Category: English

I grew up alongside New York’s most untouchable heir, Carter Winchester. For ten whole years, I transitioned from the “older sister” who took care of him, to his unacknowledged underground lover, and finally to the most obedient piece in his endless rotation of women. Everyone in our circle knew I loved him. Until his first love—his white moonlight—returned to the States. To prove his devotion, he cleared out all the beautiful distractions around him. Including me. The night I left, he and his friends laughed me out of the room. But later, they all said the same thing. Carter Winchester had lost his mind. By the time I dragged myself out of bed, Carter was still sound asleep. The floor was a mess, and my sheer stockings were completely ruined. But I had an executive meeting at the company this morning. I clicked my tongue in annoyance, rubbing my aching lower back as I rummaged through the dresser drawers. I distinctly remembered leaving a spare pair here last time, but I couldn’t find them anywhere. Just then, a low whistle sounded behind me. Carter’s voice dripped with teasing amusement. “Big sis, your body is still as incredible as ever.” I didn’t have the energy to entertain him. “Where are my stockings?” He furrowed his handsome brows, thinking for a second, looking entirely unbothered. “I think Chloe or Lily from Columbia University might have worn them home last time? I don’t remember.” My hands stopped moving. Even though it wasn’t the first time I had heard him say something so casually cruel, my heart still gave a dull ache, followed closely by a wave of self-deprecation. After all these years, hadn’t I learned my lesson? I was never anyone special to him. I let out a long sigh, stood up, and started putting on my clothes. But Carter patted the empty space beside him. Like a lazy, satisfied predator, his implication was heavy. “Big sis, why are you leaving so early?” “I have a meeting at the company.” He gave me a look and clicked his tongue. “Is this about that commercial plot in Manhattan? Why work so hard? Just stay here with me this morning, and that land is yours.” It was afternoon by the time I made it to the office. My whole body ached. The moment I sat down, my father called. His voice was oozing with praise. “Maddie, we got the land! You did great this time. Keep Carter happy, your younger brother’s future depends entirely on you.” Holding the phone, I stared at my twenty-six-year-old reflection in the glass window. A bitter smile crept onto my face. “Dad, I’m not that young anymore. Carter has plenty of eighteen and nineteen-year-old girls throwing themselves at him. What makes you think I can keep his attention?” My father paused on the other end of the line. “Besides, this is probably the last time Carter is going to look out for us.” “Why?!” My father’s voice instantly spiked with panic. “Madeline, did you offend him?! Go apologize right now! Your brother’s inheritance—” I gripped the phone tightly. My so-called family was a bottomless pit of greed. To them, I was just a bargaining chip. As long as I slept with Carter, I brought in resources. I could be anything to them, except a human being. A crushing wave of humiliation washed over me, and the tears I’d been holding back finally fell. “Because Madison is coming back.” I didn’t want to say another word. I hung up. Outside, my secretary knocked tentatively on the door. “Ms. Hayes, the gift you requested is ready. Would you like to inspect it?” I wiped my tears and signaled her to come in. The watch in the velvet box was stunning, and obscenely expensive. A Vacheron Constantin Les Cabinotiers. Just like me. An endless traveler, lost at sea, never finding a place to land. That was the reality of my relationship with Carter. You could call us lovers, or you could call it a transactional exchange. But out of all the women in his orbit, I was undeniably the most obedient. After all, my father relied heavily on the Winchester family empire. From the time I was in high school, I was constantly given orders: “Serve the young master of the Winchester family well.” I carried his bags, did his homework, and cleaned up his messes. He went from being annoyed by me and ordering me around, to secretly beating up an upperclassman who was harassing me. I genuinely thought I was special. I watched him grow into a devastatingly handsome young man. I watched as countless beautiful girls flocked to him. I watched him fool around with one—or several—of them the night before, only to throw his arm over my shoulder the next day, looking incredibly smug. “Listen up, everyone. This is my big sis.” His hand was so warm against my shoulder that I almost shivered from the heat. I watched my own heart sink into an abyss of unrequited love, forcing myself to hide it carefully. Until the night he got blackout drunk and called me to pick him up. I finally managed to get the drunken heir back to his penthouse. I was just about to leave when he grabbed my wrist. He narrowed his eyes, half-asleep, looking at me with a gaze dripping in affection. “Maddie.” When his kiss fell, I didn’t push him away. There were no confessions, no flowers. Only pain. But I took it willingly. I just never expected the look in his eyes when he woke up the next morning. It was pure disdain. “Madeline, you really are…” Are what? I sat up, bewildered. Before I even had the chance to feel shy, Carter went straight to the shower, changed his clothes, and left. The door slammed shut with a deafening bang. He didn’t even look back at me. I sat frozen on the bed for a long time, having no idea what I had done wrong. It wasn’t until later that I found out. The day before, my father had gone to him on his knees, begging for a massive capital injection to save our crumbling family business. And it wasn’t until much, much later that I realized the “Maddie” he was calling out for that night wasn’t Madeline. It was Madison. He didn’t love me. My fragile, blooming feelings were slaughtered before they even saw the light of day. From that day forward, he only ever called me “Big Sis.” It felt like a custom-made, condescending brand of humiliation. Reserved only for me. He didn’t contact me for a whole week after that. Until his birthday. Carter loved grand spectacles. His birthdays were massive events, swarming with the heirs and socialites of New York’s upper crust. I originally didn’t want to go, but his childhood friends kept blowing up my phone. “Madeline, Carter is celebrating at The Onyx tonight. It wouldn’t look right if you didn’t show, would it?” I hesitated for a long time before finally giving in. I planned to just show my face, hand over the gift, and leave. But right as I reached for the handle of the VIP suite, I heard one of Carter’s friends ask a question. “Carter, now that Madison is back, what are you gonna do about her?” The room erupted in a chorus of teasing whistles. My hand froze on the door. A moment later, Carter’s lazy, careless drawl drifted through the wood. “What do you mean, do about her? She’s been following me around for years. We’ll just deal with it how it usually goes.” “Damn, you’re generous. A breakup gift of prime Manhattan real estate? Careful, she might cling to you like a leech. Sugar daddies as generous as you are hard to find.” It felt like someone had slapped me across the face. My fingers gripped the watch box so tightly they trembled. I just wanted to turn and run. But suddenly, someone shoved me hard from behind. I lost my footing, stumbling straight through the door and crashing violently into a towering champagne pyramid. The glowing, crystal tower collapsed in an explosive crash of breaking glass. Sticky champagne soaked my hair and drenched my body. My white strapless dress was ruined, clinging to my skin. My carefully done makeup ran down my cheeks with the alcohol. I was a pathetic, unsalvageable mess. “Oh! My bad, I didn’t mean to.” It was Blair Kensington. A wealthy socialite and Madison’s best friend. I looked up. Carter was sitting dead center on the plush leather sofa. Madison was leaning delicately against his chest, wearing a perfectly calculated expression of surprise. “Madeline? What are you doing here?” When did she get back to the States? I didn’t want to look this pathetic in front of her, but everyone in the room was watching the show. Not a single person stepped forward to help me up. Blair’s voice was the loudest. “I’m just saying, Madeline, if you’re getting too old for heels, just say so. Didn’t know you wanted to bow down to us so badly.” “Too bad we aren’t Carter. We don’t have any real estate to hand out.” The room erupted into laughter. They exchanged secretive, knowing glances, fully enjoying the spectacle. Until the laughter naturally died down. Carter furrowed his brows, looking at me like I was a stain on his reputation. “What are you doing here?” If I didn’t understand it by now, I was an idiot. This whole thing was a coordinated ambush by Carter’s inner circle—a welcoming “gift” for Madison’s return. As I tried to stand, a sharp, shooting pain flared in my ankle. I almost collapsed again. When I threw my hand out to catch myself, shards of broken glass dug deep into my palm. I shuddered in pain. “I… came to give you your birthday present.” “No need.” He glanced at the watch box in my hand, his tone airy and dismissive. “I have plenty of things like that. Keep it for yourself. I’ll have my driver take you home.” The AC in the club was blasting heat, but I felt like I was drowning in a freezing lake. I couldn’t stop shivering. The moment the suite door clicked shut behind me, the room erupted into roaring laughter again. My heart finally, entirely, sank to the bottom. Later that night, someone texted me a video. Carter, slightly drunk and egged on by the cheers of his friends, pulled Madison into his arms and kissed her deeply, passionately. He murmured her name over and over. “Maddie, Maddie…” So cherished. Like she was the most precious thing in the world. Watching it, a sudden laugh escaped my throat as tears rolled down my cheeks. Carter had never kissed me in front of his friends. To him, I was just a convenient, well-worn object he kept around. Tasteless to chew on, but a pity to throw away. My phone buzzed again. Another message from an unknown number in their circle. “What do you think you are?” Yeah. What am I? Just a joke. I parked my car under the Brooklyn Bridge and walked up to the pedestrian walkway. In front of me was the endless, rushing stream of New York traffic. Below was the dark, silent river. People in Carter’s circle hated crowded places. They always felt like being around normal people tainted their status. But I loved watching people. I watched young couples kissing in beat-up sedans. I saw exhausted blue-collar workers resting their heads against the bus windows, looking drained of life. I saw girls with perfectly engineered faces sitting in the passenger seats of convertibles, ecstatic as they clutched orange Hermès bags. They were so young. They didn’t realize that every gift life hands you already has a price tag secretly attached. Just like me. I turned around, stepped onto the lower railing, and reached my hand out toward the open water to feel the freezing wind. Suddenly, a voice screamed from behind me. “Don’t do it!” Before I could even process the words, a massive force yanked me off the railing. The person dragged me backward, shouting at the top of his lungs. “You’re so young! Don’t do anything stupid!” Caught completely off guard, I tumbled onto the concrete, tangled up with a man. The heel of my shoe snagged, twisting my already injured ankle again. I let out a sharp cry of pain. But the nightmare wasn’t over. My already ruined cocktail dress let out a horrifying, audible RIP. I froze, absolutely terrified to move, and screamed at him in blind panic. “I wasn’t trying to kill myself! Let go of me!” “Don’t be st—” The guy froze mid-sentence. “Wait, you weren’t jumping?” It was only then that I got a good look at the culprit. He was young. Really good-looking. Wearing a white hoodie, looking as fresh and earnest as a sapling. His face turned bright red, and he started stammering. “I-I’m so sorry…” He frantically stripped off his oversized jacket and draped it over me. “I am so sorry, I really thought you were jumping, I just panicked and tackled you.” I must have forgotten to check my horoscope today, because every single thing that had happened was an absolute disaster. But this guy wouldn’t leave me alone. He trailed behind me like a guilty puppy. “Let me walk you to your car.” “I said no.” But the kid was acting like a Golden Retriever with a wagging tail, desperately trying to show his remorse. He followed me step for step. My patience finally snapped. I spun around, reached out, hooked a finger into his hoodie strings, and yanked him down. The kid went rigid as a board. I watched my reflection grow larger in his wide, panicked eyes… Then, a sudden flash of white light blinded me. I turned my head stiffly. The speeding traffic on the bridge had slowed to a crawl. In almost every passing car, someone was excitedly holding up their smartphone—filming this highly entertaining “rescue” scene. I didn’t even have to guess. By tonight, every social media platform would be flooded with the tag: #HeartbrokenWomanJumpsOffBridge #HandsomeCollegeStudentSavesTheDay. I made a split-second decision. I pulled his oversized jacket completely over my head. And I bolted. When I got home, I drew the blackout curtains and slept like the dead. Until I was jolted awake by a vicious slap across the face. I opened my eyes to see my father’s face twisted in rage. “What kind of shameful, humiliating stunt did you pull?!” My vision went black for a few seconds before I finally caught my breath. “What are you doing?” “Madeline, you’ve really outdone yourself! You get dumped and you go jump off a bridge?! Do you care about the Hayes family’s reputation at all?!” He was breathing heavily, his nostrils flaring like an enraged bull. Behind him stood my stepmother, Linda, barely hiding the smug look on her face. “Oh, Richard, calm down. Maddie definitely didn’t mean it. She was just upset about being dumped. Don’t yell at the poor girl.” My mother had barely been dead a month before Linda moved in, already heavily pregnant. My nightmare started the day she crossed the threshold. Even sending me off to act as a “study buddy” for Carter was Linda’s “well-intentioned” suggestion. She had used her soft, venomous voice: “Childhood sweethearts are the hardest to forget. If our Maddie gets lucky, she might be able to help her little brother out in the future.” And just like that, I was boxed up and given away as a gift. “She’s a useless piece of trash! She clung to him for all these years and couldn’t even secure a ring. And now she’s been thrown out on the street!” My father was getting angrier by the second, barking orders at me. “Since you can’t get Carter to change his mind, there’s no reason for you to sit on the board of the company anymore. Hand over the keys!” As if I actually cared about that sinking ship. It was almost funny. “I can give you the keys.” I cut him off. “Give me my mother’s ashes.” For years, the only reason I hadn’t disappeared was because they were using my mother’s urn as collateral. I stared dead into my father’s eyes. I watched his face shift from red, to green, and finally to purple, before he erupted into a screaming fit. “You little bitch! You’re just like your mother—” “Don’t you dare talk about my mother!” A sudden wave of intense nausea hit me. I turned my head and vomited over the side of the bed. Linda violently tugged on my father’s sleeve, cutting off his tirade. She whispered something to him, and to my horror, I saw a flash of wild ecstasy ignite in both their eyes. Instantly, my father’s entire demeanor flipped. “Maddie, sweetie… are you pregnant?” I froze. Come to think of it, last time we really didn’t… “You rest up. Your stepmother and I will make you some soup and come check on you later.” My father rubbed his hands together greedily, looking like a disgusting blowfly hovering over rotting meat.

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College acceptance letters rolled in, and I sent a message to my online tutor and virtual crush. “I didn’t get into Harvard. Goodbye.” Then I turned right around, enrolled at MIT, and blocked him. Fast forward to my freshman year lab. The grad student TA called me out in front of the entire class. “Come up to the board and solve this. I’ve taught you this before.” Me: “…” Are you kidding me?! Why is the online crush who desperately wanted me to go to Harvard standing in an MIT classroom?! Chapter 1 When I started taking AP tracks in my junior year of high school, my GPA tanked hard. I was terrified I wouldn’t make it into MIT. Out of desperation, I started flirting with a guy on a study forum whose username was “Harvard Reject.” I asked him to help me study. He was gentle, considerate, and incredibly understanding. “Don’t worry. With me around, I guarantee you’ll get into Harvard.” I was flattered, but panicked. “No, no, Harvard isn’t necessary.” Secretly, I was muttering to myself: MIT is exactly what I want. “Tsk, what kind of talk is that? You can look down on your own IQ, but don’t insult my abilities.” Me: “…” Right, right. I certainly didn’t dare insult his abilities. “Harvard Bro” really knew his stuff. Under his tutoring, my grades didn’t just skyrocket; they stabilized. On my final practice SAT, I scored a massive 1560. I excitedly shared the news with him. Harvard Bro was completely unfazed. “Yeah, that score should be enough for Harvard.” It was definitely enough, but I didn’t want to go to Harvard. I had my heart set on MIT since day one. But over the year he tutored me, I clearly felt that Harvard Bro had a weird obsession with Harvard. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have kept “Harvard Reject” as his username for over a year. If I didn’t go to Harvard, would he be disappointed? Staring at his message, I decided to test the waters. “What if I don’t get into Harvard?” “Relax, you’ll definitely get in.” Hmm… He probably thought I was just having pre-test jitters and was trying to comfort me. Just like that, I kept my MIT dream a secret. The day before college decisions, Harvard Bro messaged me, telling me to stay calm. He said he was busy with his master’s thesis and told me to text him the moment my official acceptances came through. Chapter 2 Late March arrived, and decisions dropped. I had a near-perfect SAT and stellar extracurriculars. Hmm… I got into Harvard, and I got into MIT. While I was agonizing over which to officially accept, my mom got a personal recruitment call from MIT admissions. She practically forced the decision for me: MIT it was. Goodbye, Harvard. Getting into my dream school was obviously amazing. But whenever I thought of Harvard Bro, who had tutored me for so long, anxiety crept in. He kept pushing me toward Harvard. Choosing MIT felt like a massive betrayal. While I was agonizing over how to break the news, his message popped up first. “Decisions are out, right? How did you do?” Look at that gentle check-in. My guilt deepened tenfold. I steeled my heart, gritted my teeth, and sent a message. “I didn’t do well. I didn’t get into Harvard.” “…” He fell silent. Before his second message could come through, I fired off another line: “I’m sorry. Goodbye.” Then I decisively blocked him and went offline. Chapter 3 After that, I completely lost touch with Harvard Bro. Even though it was just a fleeting digital romance, passing by the Harvard campus in Cambridge during my first week of college still made me stop in my tracks. My roommate, Zoe, asked what was wrong, noticing the mix of regret and longing in my eyes. I sighed. “Once upon a time, I was this close to going to Harvard.” “…” Zoe was speechless. She grabbed my arm and dragged me toward the library to fight for a seat. “Let me tell you a secret: every MIT student walking past Harvard says the exact same thing. Now hurry up, or all the good tables will be gone.” Me: “…” What a painfully honest humblebrag. Sure enough, the library was already packed. Zoe groaned. “Are these people monsters? We made it to MIT, why are we still grinding this hard?!” At a glance, every table was full. There were a few spots in the group-study zone, but after hearing a chaotic blend of three different languages, we decided the silent reading area was vastly superior. “Hey, I see a spot! Over there!” Zoe smacked my shoulder in excitement and sprinted over to negotiate with the occupants. Seconds later, she waved me over. “Chloe, hurry! We got seats.” As I walked up, I caught the end of their conversation: “Don’t mention it. You guys freshmen?” “Yeah!” Zoe smiled, her voice dripping with sweetness. I sat down quietly, noticing the seat directly across from me was empty, though a textbook was resting on the desk. “You should technically call me ‘Senior,’ but I’m actually a few years ahead. I’m a grad student now,” the guy said. “Wow, impressive!” While I was wondering if the empty seat across from me belonged to someone else, Zoe had already exchanged contacts with the senior. Once everyone settled, silence fell again. I looked down at my textbook. A few minutes later, a shadow fell over the desk, and someone pulled out the chair across from me. Whispered conversation ensued. “The PI dragged you back to the office?” “Yeah. Found an error in the data. Had to recalculate.” The first voice was Ethan, the senior who gave us the seats. The second voice was unfamiliar, but incredibly pleasant. I peeked up. Sitting across from me was a young man with glasses. He had high brow ridges, deep, expressive eyes, and thick eyelashes. His eyes were stunningly gorgeous—like something straight out of an anime. Sensing my gaze, he looked up. The moment our eyes met, my breath hitched. He was ridiculously handsome. But the anime-esque guy merely gave me a cold, sweeping glance. Then, his eyes landed on the textbook in front of me, and he raised an eyebrow. “Materials Science and Engineering? You’re an MSE major?” he asked, sounding surprised. Oh? He was actually talking to me. I nodded. I was always good at STEM in high school, largely thanks to Harvard Bro, so I declared MSE the moment I got into MIT. I don’t know if it was my imagination, but the guy’s lips curled up slightly. “Not bad.” Before I could process that, Ethan chimed in amicably, “What a coincidence! That’s our department too.” Ah. Very coincidental. Direct seniors. “Hi, nice to meet you,” I said politely. The handsome guy just gave a noncommittal “Hmm,” his attitude turning frosty again. “Don’t mind him,” Ethan laughed. “He’s just like that.” I smiled and brushed it off. Chapter 4 My major is notoriously brutal. The homework is endless and soul-crushing. It was another weekend. Zoe and I were trapped in our dorm, pulling our hair out over a Physical Chemistry problem set. Finally, Zoe let out a dramatic wail. “I literally can’t do this anymore. Just kill me. Why is it this hard?! I’ve recalculated it three times and it’s still wrong.” Looking at the stray hairs she had literally pulled from her scalp, I felt bad for her. But I was just as helpless. The difficulty jump from high school to college was a massive cliff. “Should we ask someone?” “Ask who?” Zoe’s question stumped me. The professor? Absolutely terrifying. Classmates? Zoe was the valedictorian of her high school and even she was stuck. In my despair, a figure popped into my head. Harvard Bro. If he were here, this problem would probably be child’s play for him. But I deleted him! If I had known college homework would be this torturous, I wouldn’t have acted so impulsively. Suddenly, Zoe sat bolt upright from her dead-corpse pose on the bed. “I know exactly who to ask!” “Who?” “That senior we met at the library! Ethan! I have his number. He’s an MSE grad student, he definitely knows this.” Zoe didn’t hesitate. She grabbed her phone and fired off a text. A minute later, she was dragging me out the door. “Let’s go, let’s go! He said yes. We’re heading to his lab right now.”

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During a reality show, my phone’s lock screen was exposed. It was a picture of Manhattan’s most elusive, old-money billionaire heir. The internet immediately tore me apart, accusing me of clout-chasing. My rival starlet sneered, “Delusional fangirls are honestly terrifying.” That very night, the billionaire heir created an official X (Twitter) account just to post: [She uses a picture of her own man as her wallpaper. Delusional? Are you out of your fing minds?]* 1 I am a trending actress in Hollywood. To build up some hype, I joined a highly popular, live-streamed reality TV show. The very first game required us to call our top pinned contact and invite them to dinner. If they refused, we failed the challenge. I pinched my phone, looking troubled as I racked my brain. Chloe Sterling strolled over to my side, a sweet smile plastered on her face. “What are you thinking about, Serena? Are you afraid of failing?” She was a big deal in the industry. We shared the exact same career trajectory when we blew up, making us undeniable rivals. Right now, though she was smiling, her eyes held a hidden, mocking glint. I glanced at her and stayed quiet. Given the time difference in Europe, my top pinned contact was definitely dead asleep right now. Even if I got lucky and woke him up, expecting him to cross the Atlantic just to eat dinner with me seemed pretty unrealistic. Seeing me ignore her, Chloe looked a bit annoyed. “Serena, why aren’t you saying anything?” The live chat was already coming for me: [This Serena Blake is so rude. Chloe is trying to interact with her and give her screen time, and she’s just giving her a resting bitch face?] [She’s probably pinning some guy who strung her along. She’s terrified of the embarrassment when he rejects her, lol.] [So annoying! Chloe is beautiful and sweet, don’t pay attention to this trashy girl.] I snapped back to reality and met her fixed stare. “Sorry, I zoned out.” She smirked at me provocatively, urging, “Then hurry up and start.” I had no choice but to slowly unlock my phone, revealing my top pinned contact. I never had the habit of setting long nicknames. My pinned contact was simply the letter “F”. Live chat: [Who is that? F? Doesn’t even have a full name? Probably some random nobody.] [Agreed. This girl doesn’t even have any friends in the industry. She’s struggling so hard.] I hit the audio call button. The dial tone echoed from the speaker. Once, twice… The ringing filled the room, but no one picked up. Chloe covered her mouth, giggling. “Are you not close with this person? Why aren’t they answering?” He was definitely fast asleep. I didn’t bother explaining. I just lowered my eyes, fully prepared for the call to automatically disconnect. Chloe looked like she was enjoying a show. “If you can’t even reach your top contact, we should just announce that you…” Before she could finish her sentence, the ringing abruptly stopped. The call connected. A lazy, incredibly magnetic, deep voice came through the speaker. It was thick with the raspy tone of someone who had just woken up. “Hello? “What’s wrong, baby?” 2 Chloe froze. The live chat instantly went ballistic. [Holy sh*t! This voice is lethal! I’m pregnant!] [Hold off on the pregnancy, didn’t you hear him call her baby?!] [Omg omg omg, if I dated a guy online with this voice, I’d let him scam me out of my life savings!] [Just asking quietly… is this Serena’s boyfriend?] I hadn’t expected to actually wake him up. I always thought he kept his phone off when he slept. But right now, I couldn’t care less about that. I just wanted this segment to be over. “Do you want to get dinner together tonight?” He clearly paused. “Tonight? “Your tonight?” Chloe looked confused. “Who is this guy? Why does he have to specify ‘your tonight’?” Her fans echoed: [Lmao, looks like she found herself a long-distance loser boyfriend.] I ignored her and continued, “Yeah.” The person on the other end didn’t hesitate for a second, his voice gradually clearing up. “Alright. I’ll have the jet prepped now.” I was stunned. “You’re really coming?” There was a rustling sound through the speaker, like he was getting out of bed. Then came his teasing voice. “It’s rare for you to take the initiative. Even if I have to cross the ocean, I’m going.” Live chat: [Wait, what?! Cross the ocean? He’s flying internationally just for dinner??] [No wonder he asked about ‘tonight’, he’s definitely in a different time zone right now!] [Who is Mr. F?! The bar is on the floor and he just raised it to the sky!!] Chloe’s face looked a bit ugly. She seemed displeased that I had stolen the spotlight. She gritted her teeth and raised her hand. “I’ll go next.” The host immediately passed the mic to her. She aggressively tapped into her pinned contacts. The name was boldly displayed: “Felix T.” Just as she hoped, the chat started spamming. [Felix T.? Is that the Felix I’m thinking of?] [Is there even a second one? It has to be Felix Thorne! The heir to the Thorne Empire, a true Wall Street heavyweight!] [Omg, I heard even tech CEOs can’t get a meeting with Felix Thorne. Is Chloe really that close to him?] [Lol, compared to Felix Thorne, that random Mr. F is a literal nobody.] [Hahaha, Serena definitely thought she was about to go viral, but she didn’t expect Chloe’s connections to be this insane!] Chloe feigned modesty. “Oh stop, don’t say that. Felix doesn’t like being too high-profile.” She turned, gave me a triumphant smile, and pressed the call button. I watched her quietly. I was actually a little curious about what was going to happen next. Almost immediately, a notification popped up on her screen— [You are not friends with this user. Call cannot be completed.] 3 Chloe’s face instantly turned green. She awkwardly tried a few more times, but the result was the same. She could only mutter to herself, “Huh? Felix must have accidentally deleted me. I totally forgot, he mentioned he was going to clear out his contacts…” The host quickly tried to save her face. “It’s fine, it’s fine! You can just pick someone else.” Next to her, I silently closed out of my messaging app. What I didn’t realize was that my phone was still being mirrored to the studio screen. My lock screen wallpaper flashed brightly for everyone to see. It was a man in a bespoke suit, looking straight ahead. His long, elegant fingers gripped a steering wheel, and a sleek, black luxury watch rested on his wrist. I quickly locked my phone. But the damage was done. The live chat absolutely exploded. [Holy sht! Felix Thorne! That’s Felix Thorne!] [I’m getting a nosebleed. How have I never seen this picture before?! He is so hot, is he trying to kill me?!] [Wait, this btch’s wallpaper is Felix Thorne? And she deliberately flashed it for us to see right now?] [Yeah, what is she trying to prove? Trying to chase clout on a live stream, excuse me?!] [Uh, what if she just genuinely likes him?] [That makes it even funnier! Does she not look in the mirror? Dreaming of marrying into a billionaire family? Especially someone on Felix Thorne’s level. I’m laughing my head off.] The other celebrity guests on set widened their eyes, covering their mouths and whispering. Chloe shot me a look and rolled her eyes. The host immediately asked if she was okay. Chloe gently touched her cheek, looking delicate. “It’s nothing. I just suddenly realized… delusional fangirls are honestly terrifying.” Live chat: [Oh yeah! Isn’t Chloe really good friends with Felix? Someone tell Felix there’s a stalker fangirl here using him for clout!] [Too bad Felix Thorne doesn’t care about the entertainment industry. Otherwise, I’d love to see Serena get blacklisted, hahaha.] Everyone on set caught Chloe’s implied insult. They all turned to look at me in unison. I didn’t say a word. I just pocketed my phone and stared at the production crew to cut my screen feed. Because it was a live broadcast, this tiny incident snowballed instantly. Someone clipped that segment and posted it on X. The caption read: [Chloe is such a straightforward queen, love her! Delusional trash needs to get out of Hollywood!!] The hashtag started trending, and a massive wave of netizens voiced their support: [Tsk tsk, my girl Chloe is a boss! I felt secondhand embarrassment for Serena through the screen.] [She probably didn’t expect Chloe to be so blunt. Look at her deadpan face, her clout-chasing failed and she’s big mad.] [Vomiting. I never understood how she got famous anyway. Cancel her already.] Chloe kept scrolling on her phone and somehow clicked into the trending hashtag. A screen full of insults directed at me was mirrored onto the main studio screen for everyone to read. She froze for a second, then looked at me in a complete panic. “Oh my gosh! How did this happen?! I’m just too outspoken, I never thought people would say all this! Serena, you aren’t mad at me, right?” I was the one getting dragged, yet she looked like the victim. Someone nearby immediately put an arm around her. “Chloe, we know you have a good heart. This is totally normal in Hollywood, it has nothing to do with you.” Chloe looked innocently into the camera. “I just think as public figures, we should watch our behavior and not do anything inappropriate.” The surrounding crew threw me looks of pure disdain. Feeling their judgmental stares, I was speechless. I just didn’t get it. If these people cared so much about Felix Thorne, couldn’t they recognize his voice? The “F” I just called… was him. And that picture? I took it on a whim when he came to pick me up from work one day. Is it illegal to use a picture I took of my own husband as my lock screen? 4 We had been secretly married for three years, and Felix had protected me flawlessly. No one had ever dug up our relationship, and I was perfectly happy with that freedom. But Chloe’s constant insinuations about being close to Felix felt incredibly bizarre. I had never heard of Felix being in contact with any Hollywood starlet other than me. How did she even get his contact info? Chloe was still acting wronged. The host pivoted to comfort her. “Don’t be sad, Chloe! We’re still recording, you can make another call!” She wiped away non-existent tears, scrolled through her list, and found someone named Preston Vance. “Okay! Can I call Felix’s absolute best friend?” The host nodded frantically. “Of course!” As Chloe dialed, she explained to the camera, “Preston is the heir to Vance Industries. He grew up with Felix, they’re practically brothers!” Live chat: [My girl Chloe is so professional. She was so wronged, but she immediately jumped back into work mode!] [Upvote! But who is Preston Vance? Never heard of him.] [Checking in, I just Googled him. His family runs a massive construction empire. Filthy rich!] [Anyone who is best bros with Felix Thorne is definitely a big deal. If Chloe is this close to all of them, she must be a real high-society princess!] [Omg, our Chloe is gorgeous AND comes from a crazy background! That’s my queen!] Amidst the envious gazes of the room, I slowly furrowed my brows. Preston Vance? Felix’s best friend? How come I had never heard of this guy? If I remembered correctly, Vance Construction was merely a sub-contractor for one of Thorne Enterprises’ subsidiaries. Preston Vance probably hadn’t even met Felix in person. How were they best friends? I was genuinely baffled, and I couldn’t help but ask, “Are you absolutely sure this guy is Felix Thorne’s good friend?” Chloe’s expression instantly changed. “What do you mean by that? Serena, if you have a problem with me, say it to my face, but you shouldn’t question me like this!” I looked her dead in the eye. “I just think that bragging on a live stream might be hard to walk back later.” She lost her media training for a second and glared at me. “Why don’t you look in the mirror? What right do you have to accuse me of bragging? Preston and Felix are incredibly close. When you’re ruined, don’t come begging me for help!” Looking at Chloe’s supreme confidence, I was both confused and fascinated. Where was she getting this audacity? The chat debated: [Is Serena Blake mentally ill? She can’t access high-society circles, so she gets jealous and accuses others of lying? How dark is her soul?] [Knowing Chloe’s background is so insane, I really want to know who Mr. F is. He was so obedient on the phone, is he just some boy-toy model Serena paid for? No wonder she’s having a meltdown comparing herself to Chloe!] [Lmao, it’s probably someone she’s ashamed to show. With Chloe’s powerful friends, Serena is about to be humiliated on all fronts!] Someone next to us chimed in, “Chloe, ignore the jealous hater. Make your call!” Chloe glared at me, then acted all sweet and flirty once the call connected, quickly completing the challenge. Everyone praised the Vance heir for treating her so well. She just smiled, looking shy and modest. Director Davis seemed to have a sudden stroke of genius. He pulled Chloe aside, practically fawning over her. “Chloe, since you have plans with Mr. Vance, why don’t we invite him to the studio for dinner? Let our little show bask in some of that billionaire aura! “I’ve been trying to get an interview with Felix Thorne for ages, but he never looks twice at our productions. It’s been my biggest regret…” Chloe immediately understood the assignment and patted the director’s shoulder aggressively. “Oh, Director Davis, say no more! I’ll send Preston the location right now. He and Felix are practically family. Getting him an interview? It’s just a matter of saying the word!” A matter of saying the word? Felix absolutely despised fluff interviews meant only to farm engagement. Did she really not consider the consequences of talking this big?

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Everyone knows that Manhattan’s most untouchable billionaire heir has a beloved dog. How much does he love it? When a popular Hollywood “It” girl’s perfume irritated the dog enough to make it sneeze, she was instantly blacklisted from the industry. That was, until I kicked his dog. Everyone thought I was completely ruined. No one knew that the dog was my breakup gift to the heir. First thing in the morning, the hashtag #HarperKicksDog shot to the top of the trending page. It started with a video shot by a bystander. In the clip, a woman kicked a Golden Retriever, sending the massive dog tumbling into a shallow ditch. The Golden Retriever dramatically collapsed at the bottom of the ditch, eyes squeezed shut, all four paws stiff in the air, looking absolutely dead. [Oh my god, animal abuse! That poor dog!] [This isn’t just abuse; she practically killed it! She needs to be in jail.] [You can tell just by looking at her that she’s a terrible person. Dox her!] At that point, the traction wasn’t huge. Until someone recognized the woman in the video was me. I am the entertainment industry’s most notorious “love-to-hate” actress. Normally, I get dragged into the trending topics just for sneezing. Let alone kicking a dog. In a flash, the hashtag skyrocketed to the number one spot on the entertainment charts. Haters flooded in, teaming up with outraged locals to hurl a tsunami of abuse at me. It escalated to the point where they were photoshopping gore and black-and-white memorial photos of me, cursing me to die. Soon enough, other celebrities jumped into the fray. Namely, my industry rival, Vanessa Blake. Vanessa was the current rising “It” girl. And she built that status by stepping on me. We had filmed a rustic farm-life reality show together, where she was edited to look hardworking and sweet, while I was portrayed as lazy and gluttonous. Vanessa posted a tweet: [Spreading love starts with me.] She attached a photo of herself volunteering at an animal rescue. It was a blatant jab at me. Sure enough, her fans flooded the replies, praising her for being beautiful inside and out—unlike some people with mean faces and toxic hearts. It sparked another massive wave of hate directed at me. Even as things reached this point, my manager was completely unfazed. It wasn’t that she considered me disposable. In fact, I was her only client and her biggest cash cow. She was calm because I got dragged online all the time. To her, this just meant another wave of free publicity. “As long as the Golden Retriever is fine, let them yell for a bit. We’ll post a cute selfie of you with the dog later, explain it was a misunderstanding, and this whole thing will blow over.” My manager had the entire PR strategy mapped out. She calmly sat beside me, snacking on sunflower seeds. That is, until someone on the internet discovered that this wasn’t just any dog. It was the beloved pet of the ultimate Manhattan billionaire heir. [Holy crap! That’s the Heir’s dog! Harper Evans is completely finished!] [Do you guys know how obsessed he is with that dog? An A-list starlet got blacklisted just because her perfume made that dog sneeze!] [Harper didn’t just irritate the dog; she literally kicked it. Being blacklisted is going to be the least of her worries.] [Tsk, karma always catches up. Grab your popcorn, let’s watch this toxic witch get destroyed.] My manager was no longer unfazed. She looked like the sky was falling. She immediately whipped around, dragged a suitcase out of the closet, and started frantically packing her things. “Maggie, what are you doing?” I asked curiously. “Packing so I can skip town! You think I’m going to sit here and wait for the apocalypse?” “Isn’t that an overreaction? All I did was kick that stupid mutt once.” Here is what actually happened: I was on location shooting promo photos yesterday. That stupid dog came out of nowhere and wouldn’t stop sticking to me. I didn’t want to see the person who owned it, so I nudged it away with my foot. I didn’t use any force at all. It dramatically threw itself into the ditch and played dead. It was just acting spoiled—that was its favorite trick. Because in the past, whenever it pulled that stunt, I would forgive it no matter what trouble it had caused. Too bad I wasn’t going to pamper it anymore. So, before it could react, I quickly slipped away. “Stupid mutt?! Are you actually calling the New York billionaire heir’s beloved pet a ‘stupid mutt’?!” Maggie looked like she was about to tear her hair out. Suddenly, her phone rang. She answered it with trembling hands. When she finally lowered the phone, all the color had drained from her face. “It’s over. We can’t run. The Heir is at our door.” Maggie had just received an offer for a reality show called Celebrity Kitchen. It was an A-list, top-tier variety show broadcasted entirely via live stream, boasting massive ratings. The guests they invited were usually Oscar winners and Grammy-level pop divas. Even though my name generated a lot of traffic, it was mostly trashy tabloid fame; I had no real prestigious work. I could never naturally land a resource this good. Normally, Maggie would have been over the moon. But now, she looked like she was attending a funeral. Because the biggest financial backer behind this show was none other than the Manhattan billionaire heir, Kingston Astor. This invitation felt exactly like walking into an execution. “Harper, reading between the lines… they made it clear that if you refuse, you’ll never book another job in this town again.” Maggie looked conflicted. “If you don’t go, you’re blacklisted. If you do go, he might make your life a living hell. Honestly, maybe you should just retire from showbiz?” I felt equally conflicted. I didn’t want to have anything to do with Kingston. But based on what I knew about him, his pride was carved into his bones. He seemed cold and difficult to approach, but he was a man of his word. Even though we had a bit of a dispute over the dog’s custody when we broke up, we generally parted on decent terms. Once the breakup was final, he wasn’t the type to stalk or exact petty revenge. So, inviting me to this show might have had nothing to do with him at all. Maybe the producers just wanted to exploit my current viral infamy for ratings? After all, my bad reputation was generating massive numbers. “Maggie, how much does the show pay?” She gave me a number. My eyes lit up. As expected of an A-list show, they threw cash around like water! To buy a giant mansion and retire early… I gritted my teeth. “Maggie, we’re taking the gig.” I officially announced my participation in Celebrity Kitchen. The internet was entirely filled with people gloating over my impending doom. [Isn’t the investor for Celebrity Kitchen the billionaire heir? He made a brief cameo in a video before. He’s incredibly hot. I must have replayed those few seconds a hundred times.] [Haha, seriously gorgeous. Plus, his dad is a Wall Street tycoon, his mom is a legendary director, his sister is an Oscar winner, and his older brother is a tech mogul. The ultimate heir.] [He might be hot, but his personality is supposedly ruthless, and he’s wildly protective of his own. Especially that dog. Remember the trending hashtag #ManRushesGoldenRetrieverToVetInTheRain? That man was the heir.] [Hahaha, Harper Evans is so dead. He invited her to Celebrity Kitchen just to torture her on live television, right?] [I was planning to go throw trash at her house, but since the billionaire heir is handling it, I’ll just sit back and enjoy the show.] Shortly after, Vanessa Blake also announced she was joining Celebrity Kitchen. Maggie rolled her eyes. “Is she a piece of gum on our shoe? We can’t shake her.” Vanessa’s fans, however, were ecstatic. Most of them were fiercely protective “mom” fans. And their ultimate dream son-in-law was the billionaire heir. Kingston had the looks, the pedigree, the competence—he was top-tier in every category. In their eyes, he was barely worthy of their perfect, fairy-like daughter. Furthermore, they had actually managed to dig up some “clues.” Once, the luxury SUV that picked Vanessa up from set belonged to Kingston. Not only that, but she had posted a photo of a Golden Retriever’s back on her Instagram. The dog looked remarkably like Kingston’s. Being allowed to walk his beloved dog obviously meant she had an intimate relationship with him. All signs pointed to the billionaire heir being the mysterious man backing their precious Vanessa! [Did the Heir personally invite her on the show?] [No way, no way! Is the Heir finally getting impatient and ready to go public?!] [He’s probably been dying to go public so he can openly dote on her. But because our girl wants to focus on her career, she made him keep it a secret. The Heir finally snapped, pulled her into his arms, and said: “Woman, I can’t hide you anymore.”] [Ahhh that narrative is so good, keep it coming!] Vanessa’s fanbase was partying like it was New Year’s Eve. And naturally, they didn’t forget to trample all over me in the process. [I heard a certain someone was also invited. The Heir and our girl are going to tag-team destroy her.] [Can’t wait to watch them beat the drowning dog.] [Hey, don’t insult dogs. That woman doesn’t even deserve the comparison.] Before long, Celebrity Kitchen began broadcasting. Maggie dropped me off at the live stream location. The show had strict rules: no managers and no assistants allowed on set. So Maggie had to say a tearful goodbye at the front gates. “If the producers try to torture you, just endure it for the sake of avoiding the breach-of-contract penalty.” She paused, then added, “But if it gets truly unbearable, I’ll sell my kidney to pay your buyout fee.” I felt a mix of exasperation and genuine warmth. I reached out and gave her a tight hug. “Don’t worry, Maggie. I’ll be fine.” The shooting location for this season was an expansive, rustic farmhouse estate in the Hudson Valley, full of vintage charm. After saying goodbye to Maggie, I walked in. There were five guests in total. Vanessa and I were the new additions. The other three were Oscar-winning actor Harrison Reed, pop diva Serena Cole, and the current teen heartthrob Liam Pierce. When I arrived, Vanessa, Serena, and Liam were already there. Vanessa had said something that made Serena giggle uncontrollably, and the way Liam looked at Vanessa was painfully tender. The moment I stepped inside, the atmosphere instantly froze. Liam and Vanessa in particular looked at me with open hostility. My chaotic fans had previously shipped me and Liam, editing romantic fan-cams of us. Liam, however, felt I was leeching off his popularity. Whenever we shared a stage, he stayed as far away from me as physically possible. He had even publicly expressed his disdain for me. Simultaneously, he was a massive simp for Vanessa. Sadly for him, Vanessa didn’t give him the time of day. I greeted Serena politely. Liam acted like he was terrified I would speak to him and immediately scurried to Vanessa’s other side. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. Who wants to talk to you anyway, you narcissist? Shortly after, the Oscar-winning actor arrived. “Sorry to keep everyone waiting! But I’m not the last one here. We have a mystery guest!” Harrison wasn’t just a guest; he effectively acted as the host, guiding the flow of the show. “Our guest is a big deal. He’s the youngest billionaire on the Forbes list… and this is his first ever reality show appearance…” Harrison knew exactly how to hype up the crowd, rattling off a string of impressive titles. At this point, both the guests and the viewers watching the live stream had their suspicions. Vanessa’s fans had completely taken over the live chat. [No way, no way! Is it really him? I thought he’d just make a cameo, but he’s actually a guest!] [He definitely came for Vanessa. Ah, he loves her so much, I totally approve of this marriage.] Harrison dragged out the suspense before finally dropping the name. “Let’s give a warm welcome to our mystery guest, Kingston Astor!” Honestly, the moment Harrison mentioned a mystery guest, I had a terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach. I kept a calm poker face, but inside I was panicking. No way, no way. Is Kingston actually participating in this show? Doesn’t that mean we’re going to be staring at each other all day? How awkward is it to be stuck with your ex? What the hell is he thinking? I held onto a sliver of hope, praying to every deity that it wasn’t him. Until Harrison said the name, and that tall, striking figure stepped onto the set. My last shred of hope shattered. Objectively, Kingston was breathtaking. He stood six-foot-two, with broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and incredibly long legs. Because his grandmother was European, he had a stunning mixed-heritage bone structure with deep-set features and pale amber eyes. Add to that his aura of cold, untouchable old money. Just standing there, he made the trendy teen heartthrob Liam look like a valet parking attendant. And he didn’t come alone. In his hand, he held the leash of a massive Golden Retriever. The Golden Retriever was bouncing out of its skin, barking enthusiastically in our direction. If Kingston hadn’t been gripping the leash so tightly, the dog would have charged right at us. Kingston swept his gaze toward our group, his deep eyes unreadable. Simultaneously, the live chat exploded. [Oh my god! The Heir brought his beloved dog to the show!] [He is SO hot. That face, that body, he’s basically a god. I’m drooling.] Vanessa’s fans chimed in right on cue: [Hey, wipe your mouths, the Heir belongs to our girl.] [Wait, bringing the dog to the show… he’s letting the dog exact its own revenge!] [Looks like the Heir is legitimately furious. Look at that Golden Retriever barking at them, it must despise that toxic witch. Grab your popcorn, the show is about to start!] When Kingston appeared, whether it was due to his freezing aura or the wildly barking dog, no one spoke. The silence was deafening. “What an adorable dog! Can I pet him?” Vanessa finally broke the ice. [Hehe, our girl’s acting is so good. She’s obviously walked the dog before, but she’s pretending this is their first meeting.] [She’s definitely super close with the Golden Retriever. Watch it pounce on her the second she gets close.] [Oh man, is their secret romance about to be exposed?!] [Bold theory: The Heir did this on purpose. This man is so calculating.] [Manipulative mastermind boyfriend, hehe, I love this dynamic.] Vanessa walked toward Kingston, looking at the Golden Retriever with overflowing affection, and reached out a hand to pet it. I watched with cold indifference. I had to admit, Vanessa was a spectacular actress. Previously, when we filmed the farm-life show, the host family owned a dog. Vanessa absolutely despised it and threw a tantrum until the dog was banished to a locked vegetable garden. I used to sneak it leftover bones. When the show aired, the editing team twisted the narrative entirely. They made it look like I was the diva who demanded the dog be locked up, and framed Vanessa as the sweet angel sneaking it food. However, this stupid dog was just as neurotic and elitist as its owner. Furthermore, it was highly intelligent—practically psychic. It knew exactly who actually liked it and who didn’t. Vanessa was about to kick a steel plate… Sure enough, the stupid dog violently leaped backward. Its canine face practically spelled out the words: Don’t touch me, peasant. Then, it furiously kicked its hind legs, launching a fistful of dirt straight into Vanessa’s face. The set fell dead silent.

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My little brother is the most hated rising star on the internet. When we joined a family reality show together, he was walking on eggshells, while I roasted everyone in sight—I would have kicked a passing dog just on principle. My brother: “Sis, keep a low profile, I’m begging you.” The fans: “This is so satisfying! Keep roasting them, we love to see it!” 01 I had just returned from studying abroad when my younger brother, Hayes, took a gig on a family reality show. He invited our mom. She took a sip of her coffee and said coldly, “No. I can’t afford that kind of humiliation.” He invited our dad. Dad didn’t even look up from his stack of corporate files. “For five million an episode, I’ll consider it.” Hayes: “…” So, he could only turn his pleading eyes toward me. I waved a hand dismissively. “It’s just a reality show. I’ll go with you.” My mom looked at me like she wanted to say something, but held back. Hayes was so moved he practically cried. He hugged me tight. “Sis, you’re the absolute best. I’m so grateful for you.” I patted his head modestly. “Hayes is a big deal now. Having a superstar brother is my pride and joy.” Hayes looked a little embarrassed. “Sis, maybe you should check the internet first?” I had rushed back to the States so fast I hadn’t caught up on local news. Hearing him say that, I pulled out my phone and opened Twitter with a smile. Then, my smile froze. He was “popular,” alright—but not in a good way. Ever since he debuted two years ago, the internet had been flooded with non-stop hate. His singing and dancing were mediocre at best, yet he had debuted near the top of an idol survival show. People accused him of “crying” his way to a debut spot, and someone had even edited his dance compilation to look like a “geriatric physical therapy” video. In that exact moment, I severely regretted saying he was my “pride and joy.” And soon enough, Hayes would severely regret saying he was “grateful” for me. 02 The show, Dearest Family, was shooting at a luxury resort. It was a seven-day live-streamed event. From the moment we stepped onto the property, camera drones buzzed overhead. When Hayes and I arrived at the foot of the hill, another pair of guests was already there. The guy was around twenty-five, tall with a slight tan, accompanied by a girl in casual clothes. They were whispering to each other, and the girl looked visibly annoyed. Seeing us, she tilted her chin up and let out a cold scoff. Hayes leaned in and whispered in my ear. “That’s Carter Vance. He ranked twelfth and got eliminated in the survival show two years ago. The internet says I stole his debut spot.” I instantly understood. The producers were just trying to stir up drama for the ratings. As we walked over, Carter lowered his eyes and greeted us meekly, looking like a bullied victim. Hayes was so traumatized by the online hate that he was practically walking on thin ice. He reached out to shake hands with a painfully eager, people-pleasing smile. But even then, the live-stream chat was going rabid: “Carter is so pitiful. He actually has to shoot a show with the guy who stole his spot.” “Seeing Hayes’ fake, pretentious face makes me sick.” “Carter is too nice for initiating the greeting. Hayes has zero social awareness.” “If it wasn’t for his face, Hayes would have nothing on Carter!” I stood to the side, staring blankly at Carter until he flashed me a friendly smile. “You must be Hayes’ sister, right? I’m Carter Vance, and this is my little sister, Riley. She won the National Youth Dance Championship last year.” Right on cue, Riley smugly lifted her chin and looked at me with disdain. “Oh, Hayes actually has a sister?” Carter chimed in softly, “Hayes doesn’t like mentioning his family in public. It’s normal you didn’t know.” Riley’s sneer deepened. “Makes sense. For someone who debuted purely on his looks, his family probably isn’t very presentable anyway.” 03 The Vance siblings were coming out swinging from second one. I didn’t know if the producers put them up to it, but the chat was eating it up. “True, I’ve never found any background info on Hayes online.” “Some influencers analyzed that his family must be poor, otherwise he wouldn’t have used the ‘pity card’ to debut and make a quick buck.” My brows furrowed slightly. Seeing this, Hayes quickly grabbed my hand. “Sis, endure it. Please. Fan outrage is terrifying.” While we waited for the other guests, Carter and Riley rattled off like a machine gun. “The Youth Dance Championship—do you even know what that is? Ah, I forgot you probably never studied dance. You definitely wouldn’t know.” “Winning a national title is okay, I guess, but my real goal is to win an international competition within five years.” The chat showered them with praise: “Expected nothing less from Carter. Even his sister is outstanding.” “A dance champion! Compared to a certain someone who debuted high and knows nothing, the irony is thick.” “His sister isn’t even saying anything. Guess that whole family is just empty pretty faces.” As Riley got more and more carried away, I suddenly turned to my brother. “Go get me a bottle of water.” Hayes nodded obediently and trotted off to find a staff member. Watching him disappear, I finally turned my deadpan gaze back to them. “Carter? Your sister is a dance champion, but what about you? What titles or honors do you have?” I looked at the mocking man, pulled out my phone, and opened a search bar. “All the info I can find on you online is that you placed twelfth on a reality show. If you had any actual achievements, considering how much you love showing off, the PR articles would be flying everywhere by now, wouldn’t they?” Carter: “…” I turned to Riley. “National Dance Champion? Which competition? Which category? What scale? As far as I know, there are no less than twenty youth dance competitions in the US every year, and a dozen of them are worth even less than your brother’s twelfth-place finish.” Riley: “…” 04 Their faces turned from red to a very ugly shade of green. I calmly looked away. Sigh. I should hold back a little. No need to bully the kids too hard. I was ready to call a truce, but they weren’t letting it go. Riley’s eyes widened in defiance. “My brother is just low-key! Everyone knows he was better than Hayes on Idol Maker!” “Oh.” She choked, then took a deep breath. “Last year, I won the Dance Revolution championship. That’s a hell of a lot better than you and your talentless brother.” Dance Revolution. The name rang a bell. My nine-year-old niece had won it three years in a row. But last year, she thought the judging system was flawed and rejected the organizers’ invitation to return. Listening to Riley’s arrogance, I frowned. With the drone hovering above and the crew standing nearby, I walked over, pointed at Riley, and asked the staff, “She’s making personal attacks. Does production not care?” The crew member made a hand gesture. “This is a live broadcast. The directors can’t interfere during filming.” I had an epiphany. “So, you don’t care about insults?” “According to the rules, we can’t step in.” “Understood.” My simple questions sparked massive outrage in the chat. “What is she doing? Tattling? Is she in elementary school? Disgusting!” “Exactly like Hayes!” “I admit Riley is a bit arrogant, but at least she has talent. Does this woman only know how to run to the teachers?” “Production obviously wants drama. Tattling is useless. She looks like a clown.” “She only knows how to play these pathetic tricks behind people’s backs. Riley is much more straightforward.” 05 By the time I returned to the group, two more sets of guests had arrived. Riley was still dramatically recounting her glorious competition days. I listened for a moment, then spoke up. “Dance Revolution, huh? That rings a bell.” Everyone instinctively looked at me. Riley’s smile stiffened, but she raised an eyebrow smugly. “I’m impressive, aren’t I?” I smiled faintly. “They invited me, but I didn’t go.” “Why?” “Because I was overseas at the Golden Swan International Cup.” She was completely playing into my hands. Her eyes went wide in disbelief. “What place did you get?” The Golden Swan International Cup was one of the most prestigious, heavyweight dance competitions in the world. The chat went wild: “She’s bluffing, right? Does she even know how big the Golden Swan is?” “The competitors are the elites from every country. If she’s that good, how could Hayes be so untalented?” I raised my eyes and, under everyone’s expectant gazes, said completely deadpan: “Oh, I was a judge.” Riley: “…” The silence lasted for a full ten seconds. Then Riley shrieked, “You’re lying! You’re only in your early twenties! That’s impossible!” I tilted my head. “The Golden Swan is divided into twelve regional tracks. I was just a judge for one of them, not the grand finals.” Remembering something, I looked over at Carter, who was staring blankly. I let out a dry laugh. “Twelve tracks. That’s so funny. Just like your ranking.” Carter: “…” Riley was practically jumping in anger. “Impossible! You’re definitely lying.” I looked at her like she was an idiot. “The judges’ roster is public online. Oh, right—my name is Blair Sterling.” 06 At first, the audience reacted just like Riley—complete disbelief, fiercely accusing me of bragging. That was until someone posted a screenshot of the official judges’ roster from the Golden Swan website. In the screenshot, under the five judges for the sixth track, the name “Blair Sterling” was unmistakably there. “Holy shit, Blair Sterling really is a judge.” “My god, just competing is incredible, but she’s actually a judge?! How good is she?!” “She might be awesome, but Hayes still has zero talent. The fact that he stole Carter’s spot remains. His sister’s talent doesn’t change that.” “Exactly, don’t get it twisted. Even if Blair is a god, Hayes should still get out of the entertainment industry.” “Am I the only one who thinks Blair’s comebacks are brutal? Lmao, look at Carter’s face, he looks sick.” “…” The conversation ended when Hayes ran back happily with a bottle of water and handed it to me. I took it naturally and opened it. “What took you so long?” “They were short-handed setting up the venue, so I helped out a bit.” “Oh. Well, everyone’s here. Let’s go.” Hearing that, Hayes finally looked up and smiled at the others. Then, he shuffled closer to me and asked, thinking he was whispering, “Sis, why does the vibe feel so weird? What did you guys talk about while I was gone?” Carter and Riley’s venomous glares immediately locked onto me. I stayed completely composed and tilted my head. “Huh? Weird vibe? Not at all, we’re getting along fabulously.”

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My wife, Vivian Wright, was drugged with an aphrodisiac at a cocktail party and had sex with a male college student who looked a lot like me. I gave her three chances. The first time, to prove her loyalty, Vivian immediately sent that college student named Zachary overseas and spent three days and three nights with me in our bedroom. The second time, I ran into Zachary accompanying her to a prenatal checkup at the hospital. Vivian clutched my chest tightly, her voice trembling: “I’m sorry, Ethan. I’m pregnant. The doctor said if I abort, I might never get pregnant again.” “I swear, once I give birth, I’ll send the baby to my parents’ house right away and send Zachary away too. Please don’t leave me…” But just three days later, she competed against me at an auction for my father’s belongings—because of Zachary. When she saw my bids getting more and more aggressive, Vivian directly offered the highest price. This was the third time, and the last chance I’d give her. I rushed over to confront her. But Vivian didn’t panic. She just frowned slightly: “Ethan, you know I’m about to give birth. Why are you still angry with me?” “Just endure for three more months, and we can go back to how things were.” Hearing her words, I almost laughed until I cried. I finally decided to get divorced. But Vivian brazenly brought Zachary home. 1. “Ethan, I was wrong. Please don’t leave, okay?” Seeing me decisively coming downstairs with my suitcase, Vivian’s eyes instantly turned red. She immediately abandoned Zachary, whom she’d been comforting, and rushed to me, grabbing my wrist. Her whole body was trembling. “Honey, please! Don’t leave me. Trust me one last time.” “Zach just wants to be there when the baby’s born. Once he sees the baby, he’ll go abroad immediately. Everything will go back to how it was.” Go back to how it was? During our struggle, the ring I’d worn on my finger for seven years suddenly fell off. I watched as Vivian panicked and let go, her pregnant belly making it difficult as she bent down to pick up the ring. But I was forced to remember that just this morning, eight-months-pregnant Vivian had brazenly brought Zachary through our door. He sat on the sofa, cradling my wife’s pregnant belly, soothing her in gentle tones. At that moment, my heart—which should have been beating fresh and alive—felt like someone had split it open with an axe. The pain tore through me. I watched Vivian pick up the ring, full of joy as she tried to put it back on my hand. I stepped back and suddenly laughed, tears falling. “Vivian, we can’t go back to how things were.” “…Ethan.” Vivian stood frozen in place, the ring falling from her hand again, rolling to where Zachary stood. I ignored it, pulling my suitcase to leave past Vivian. But the next second, my hand was grabbed again with desperate force. I turned back to see Vivian, tears streaming from the corners of her eyes, her head turned, lips trembling. “Ethan, tell me what I need to do for you to stay…” I looked at Zachary, who was standing on my wedding ring, his face full of anxiety as he watched me. My eyes unconsciously swept to Vivian’s belly, ready to give birth any day. I was about to say it didn’t matter—whatever Vivian did couldn’t change my decision to leave. “Vivian…!” Behind me came Zachary’s alarmed cry. His face pale, he collapsed to the floor. “My heart hurts…” Vivian’s expression changed instantly. She immediately released the hand she’d refused to let go of and shoved me aside, rushing to support Zachary. The force made me lose my balance, and the back of my head hit hard against the corner of the stairs. Everything went black. “Vivian!” I called out to her, my voice shaking. But Vivian didn’t look back. I watched her frantically call for the driver, gently comforting Zachary, leaving me with only her hurried back. I was left kneeling there, laughing harder as more tears fell. Staggering to my feet, I casually wiped the blood from my forehead and called my lawyer. After drafting the divorce agreement, I went to the hospital. I stood outside the hospital room, watching Vivian anxiously guarding Zachary’s bedside, though she was the pregnant one. Even though she wasn’t carrying my child, whenever she showed even slight nausea during her pregnancy, my brow would knot in concern. But now she was serving Zachary tea and water. “Vivian, I want to eat food you cook yourself…” Zachary said pitifully. Vivian didn’t hesitate for a second, her pregnant belly protruding as she headed out: “I’ll make it for you. Wait for me.” My heart ached. After she left, I emerged from the shadows and pushed open the hospital room door. When Zachary saw me, his eyes reddened and he started his act: “Mr. Wright, I’m sorry. I really do have a heart condition. I didn’t mean to interrupt you two. Please… don’t hit me.” His shoulders trembled, his sobs continuous, like a kicked puppy. What did Vivian see in him? I had no interest in watching his performance. I handed over a document: “I have no intention of blocking your rise to power.” Seeing the word “divorce” on the document, Zachary’s tears froze on his face. “You know very well that Vivian loves me. She won’t agree to divorce. So, this document—you help me get her to sign it.” “But…” Zachary seemed conflicted. “This is a one-time opportunity, Zachary,” I emphasized. Zachary stared at the document for a long time, biting his lip, finally clutching it in his hand: “…Thank you for making our family of three complete, Mr. Wright.” Family of three. My heart seized painfully, the pain stabbing through every breath. “Then… I wish your family of three happiness.” 2 Returning to the villa, I packed up and burned everything related to Vivian. Gold and silver jewelry, luxury goods, dolls, and couple photos—I burned them all. But when I saw a drift bottle, I paused. Inside was a wish written by seventeen-year-old Vivian. I’d read it many times. But today, holding the thin letter paper, I still couldn’t resist opening it to read one last time. The paper had yellowed, but the handwriting remained clear. Seventeen-year-old Vivian’s handwriting was graceful and neat: [To Vivian Wright ten years from now: Vivian, you must be married to Ethan now, right? I’m so jealous of you. You have to love Ethan well for me! Remember to cook for him often. Ethan said he loves my cooking the most. Give him handmade gifts. He says the gift doesn’t matter, it’s the thought that counts. Make sure he stays warm. He gets cold so easily. Also, I promised to give him a baby that looks like him. A family of three would be the happiest…] At the end of the letter, I discovered a line of small text I’d never noticed before. It was written to me: Ethan, if the me ten years from now treats you badly, leave me and never forgive me. A tear fell heavily on that line of small text, accompanied by my bitter smile and nod of agreement, before I threw the letter into the fire. The flames leaped higher, bursting with sparks. By the time Vivian returned with Zachary, the sky was darkening. Zachary eagerly piled large and small luxury brand packages in front of me, saying they were gifts for me. Seeing this, Vivian looked at him with approval, but when she saw my lukewarm response, she helped Zachary try to please me: “Ethan, look, Zach is actually quite kind. He picked all these out for you. If… you don’t like them, tell me what you want and I’ll buy it for you, okay?” But before she could finish, Zachary spoke up: “Miss Wright, it’s fine. Besides these, I prepared another gift for Mr. Wright. He’ll definitely like it!” With that, Zachary handed me a document envelope. I paused. Without thinking, I knew it contained the divorce agreement. I reached out to take it, but couldn’t pull it away. Zachary hadn’t let go. In front of Vivian, he looked at me, his voice low: “Mr. Wright, don’t forget what you promised me…” “Promised what?” Vivian’s face showed doubt as she turned to me with searching eyes. Under her sharp gaze, my heart tightened. I quickly nodded and pulled the agreement away. “Fine! I promise.” Perhaps Vivian’s gaze was too probing, as she moved forward to look at the agreement. I glanced at Zachary. He smiled triumphantly, then turned to Vivian and said: “Miss Wright, Mr. Wright said that after I leave, he’ll take good care of the baby. So I specially prepared this gift. You don’t mind, do you?” “I don’t mind. Of course I don’t mind.” Hearing this, Vivian’s eyes lit up, smiling as she kissed my lips: “Ethan! That’s wonderful. You’ve finally come around. I knew you still loved me.” Vivian, delighted, kissed my lips several times, making Zachary’s eyes flash with jealousy. Perhaps the look was too obvious. Vivian released me, her eyes hesitating: “Ethan, Zach wants duck soup… You’re the best cook. Could you let him try some?” The joy of finally getting the divorce agreement was instantly dispersed by absurd, laughable mockery. So what exactly did Vivian take me for? Her lover, her husband, or Zachary’s personal chef? But thinking that I’d soon be able to leave and not wanting any complications, I nodded wearily: “I understand. I’ll make it for him.” The moment I returned to my room, I opened the envelope and saw Vivian’s signature on the agreement. I suddenly smiled. After signing the divorce agreement and hiding it, I went downstairs to the kitchen and made the soup as promised, instructing the servants to take it to Zachary. But soon after, I was startled awake by Zachary’s alarmed cry. Hearing hurried footsteps in the hallway and Vivian’s piercing scream, I quickly threw on clothes and opened the door. Then I heard Zachary’s shout: “I know now, Vivian—the soup… that soup! There’s something wrong with it!” As his words fell, I met Vivian’s disappointed, resentful gaze, then watched as Zachary carried her rushing downstairs. By the time I realized the large patch of crimson blood on her nightgown—miscarriage blood— I was completely stunned. 3 I watched Zachary carry Vivian rushing toward the door, but even at this moment, she was still gently comforting him. “Don’t be scared… I’m fine. I only had a small sip.” “Vivian.” I instinctively called out, my voice trembling. Finally Vivian looked back at me. Seeing my terrified expression as I followed behind, her eyes suddenly became conflicted and sad. “…Ethan…” She wanted to call to me, but the pain in her body made Vivian’s gaze turn from conflicted to ice-cold. “Ethan Wright, you bastard!” I still followed to the hospital. Standing outside the operating room, I watched Vivian gripping Zachary’s hand, crying out again and again. “Zach, I’m sorry. If I die, take care of the baby. We were meant to be but fate pulled us apart!” The gurney was pushed inside, and Zachary desperately clutched at the door, shouting inside, his voice trembling terribly: “Vivian! Come out alive! Do you hear me! You and the baby both have to live. I love you. I can’t live without you.” Watching their life-and-death vows, my heart quietly fell into an bottomless abyss. Fortunately, Vivian was fine and was eventually transferred to a hospital room. I breathed a sigh of relief, but unexpectedly overheard Vivian’s conversation with the doctor. “Miss Wright, you ingested an excessive amount of abortifacient medication, which caused the miscarriage. And the soup you asked us to test does contain abortifacient components.” As the words fell, the hospital room filled with suffocating silence. I could barely stand, clenching my fists tightly. Vivian lay in bed, pale and cold all over. She didn’t speak, but I only felt suffocated. But I hadn’t done anything! So who put the abortifacient in—that was obvious. I hurried away to the water room to confront Zachary. “Zachary, what’s the point of this? I said I’d leave. I never wanted to get involved in your games. Why do you still have to frame me like this?!” Looking at Zachary’s haggard face across from me, my heart filled with both anger and confusion. But when Zachary met my eyes, his gaze revealed twisted malice: “Of course I know. But… she loves you, doesn’t she?” “Even if you leave, just that love alone will crush me and my son’s future. So I had to do this…” I laughed bitterly. By his logic, wouldn’t it be more convenient to just kill me directly? With a light laugh, I suppressed my anger and spoke coldly: “Since you know that… do you think she’ll believe you?” Hearing this, Zachary’s expression froze, looking at me with clenched teeth and helplessness. Clearly, he had no confidence he could make Vivian hate me. In the standoff, Vivian appeared in the hallway in a wheelchair. Her eyes were dark, but she said nothing. She told Zachary to leave, then looked at me with longing: “Ethan, I want to go home.” As she spoke, I caught the slightest tightening of Zachary’s hand clutching his clothes. “But…” He tried to say something, but his words were stopped by Vivian’s icy gaze. Zachary immediately fell silent, not daring to say more. I looked at Vivian’s weak, exhausted face, completely devoid of anger, and pushed her wheelchair out of the hospital. Vivian’s voice was still warm, but my heart was cold. The car was deathly silent. Vivian unusually didn’t speak to me the whole way. I didn’t pay attention, focused only on going to the civil affairs bureau in the morning to process the divorce. After arriving home, she sent Zachary back to his room. I was about to leave, but Vivian’s hand holding mine still hadn’t let go. Her voice was gentle: “Ethan, come with me.” Not suspecting anything, I obediently followed her all the way to the underground wine cellar. Then I saw it—a huge golden cage. Immediately, my temples throbbed. I instinctively turned to run. But Vivian reacted faster. With a wave of her hand, bodyguards suddenly appeared and grabbed me. She had them stuff me into the cage!

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Six years ago, I went to prison for Ethan’s accidental assault. Six years later, I stood at the prison gates and watched Ethan ride past in a wedding car. And his bride was the very person who had landed me in jail all those years ago. The officer escorting me out handed over my belongings and asked casually: “You got out two years early for good behavior. Didn’t you call your family to pick you up?” I looked away and took the bag, my voice hoarse: “My mom’s health isn’t good. She’s in the hospital.” “What about your husband?” the officer added. I paused, then fished out the marriage certificate from the bottom of the bag, revealing the seal that had long since faded. “This?” I pulled at the corner of my mouth in something like a smile. “It’s fake. Three bucks for a rubber stamp.” Chapter One This was the certificate she and Ethan had obtained before her imprisonment. Back then, his eyes had been calm as he promised that no matter how long it took, she would be his only wife. She had always believed what he said, until the stamp gradually faded and peeled away over these six years. The officer looked embarrassed and turned to watch the luxurious convoy disappear into the distance, changing the subject: “What a spectacle. I heard it’s a merger between the Pierce and Taylor families. The groom is the young master the Pierces found a couple years ago.” “Apparently he spent years struggling in the slums. Who would’ve thought? One day he’s nobody, the next he’s a wealthy heir.” Sophia Bridge lowered her eyes gently. Yes, who would have thought that a guy who had to deliver packages to save up for tuition a few years ago was the Pierce family’s lost heir? And who could have imagined that after returning to his birth family, he would marry Clara Taylor—the woman he once despised most? In college, Clara had used the Taylor family’s influence to pursue him relentlessly. And because she was his supposed childhood friend, she constantly made trouble for Sophia. So Ethan had hated Clara with a passion. Until Clara was publicly rejected by Ethan yet again. Humiliated and furious, she called people to corner him. When Sophia arrived, she threw herself in front of him without hesitation, blocking the blows and shoving someone away. But that person fell down the stairs and ended up in a vegetative state. Afterward, Clara sued her for intentional assault. She was sentenced to eight years in prison. At first, Ethan came almost every day. Even when he couldn’t see her, he would stubbornly stand outside the prison. Later, Ethan could only make it once every few months. On visiting days, she could only stare out the empty window, though she understood his life was difficult and his work demanding. Then for two full years, he never appeared again. And in her day-after-day waiting, she had actually been preparing herself. Seeing him get married today with her own eyes finally shattered that last sliver of hope. She picked up her bag, said goodbye to the officer, and headed toward a slum area well-known throughout River City. The alley was narrow and cramped, but it had been home for her and Ethan for several years. But when she reached the entrance, she stopped abruptly. The rows of dingy low houses had vanished, replaced by a massive shopping mall. She stood there almost dazed, not knowing where to go. The lady running a food stall by the road saw her and exclaimed: “Sophia? You’re back!” It was Mrs. Wilson, who used to live next door. Sophia’s throat felt tight as she pointed at the mall: “When… when was this demolished?” Mrs. Wilson sighed and looked up at the mall’s sign, her tone complicated: “Two years ago. Right around when that Pierce heir returned to his family.” Sophia’s heart skipped a beat. “If you ask me, your mom shouldn’t have been so soft-hearted and taken him in back then. Such a beautiful child—you could tell he wasn’t from an ordinary family.” “Look, once he grew up and went back to his wealthy parents, he thought living here was embarrassing. He bought up everything and had it demolished, said he wanted to give his fiancée a new mall.” “This place was run-down, sure, but a lot of people could only afford to live here. Even with compensation, it wasn’t enough to survive on. So plenty of folks didn’t want to leave. In the end, a construction crew came and forced everyone out. Those who refused were driven away anyway.” It was summer, but Sophia felt cold all over. Instinctively, she didn’t want to believe Ethan could do such a thing. But Mrs. Wilson’s words were crystal clear, leaving no room for disbelief. Mrs. Wilson packed up her stall, shook her head, and said wearily: “I don’t know where you’ve been these years, but take my advice—even though you two grew up together, he’s a Pierce heir now. Not someone people like us can reach anymore.” With that, she pushed her cart away, leaving Sophia standing alone. Sophia didn’t know how long she stood under the blazing sun until someone shoved a flyer into her hand, snapping her back to awareness. The glossy paper showed a photo of Ethan and Clara together. The man wore a tailored suit, his features refined and distant—nothing like the green boy in her memories. Below was a line of gold text: “Celebrating the Pierce-Taylor union. Our hotels offer three days of complimentary stays and meals.” Sophia clutched the flyer tightly. She knew she and Ethan now lived in two different worlds. She had no intention of disturbing his bright future, but she was worried about her mother. Before going to prison, she had entrusted her chronically ill mother, who had been hospitalized for years, to Ethan’s care. Following the address, she found the hotel. One glance told her it was luxurious beyond measure. And all she had was a six-year-old outfit, washed until it was nearly white, standing out awkwardly. She also saw Ethan coming downstairs. Money really did transform people. His perfectly tailored suit accentuated his broad shoulders and long legs, his bearing aloof and distant. When he saw her, Ethan paused briefly, as if encountering an insignificant old acquaintance. He stepped forward and spoke unhurriedly: “Why didn’t you let me know you were getting out early? I could have arranged for someone to pick you up.” Sophia was speechless, momentarily unsure what to say. Ethan paused, then spoke again. “What happened back then—I owe you for that.” “I’ll compensate you. But I hope you won’t disrupt today’s wedding.” Sophia took a deep breath. She lifted her head, meeting his gaze directly. “No need to go to such trouble. I only came to ask which hospital my mother is in now.” As if not expecting this reaction, Ethan paused, but quickly replied: “She’s at a nursing home under the Taylor family. The environment is excellent.” “Assistant Chen will take you there.” With that, he called someone over and turned to leave. But Assistant Chen approached with an embarrassed expression, stammering: “Miss Bridge… your mother actually passed away a year ago.” “As for the body, it was donated to the medical school according to her wishes.” Chapter Two A roar, like something exploding in her head. Sophia stood frozen, her ears ringing. A year ago? She died? Then why did Ethan say her mother was still at the nursing home? Her legs went weak. She could barely stand, stumbling as she pushed through the glass door. “Miss Bridge! You can’t go up! There’s a ceremony in progress!” Assistant Chen tried to stop her but was shoved away hard. “Move!” Sophia’s mind went blank. She had only one thought: to demand answers from Ethan. From the time she could remember, her father had died of illness. Her mother raised her alone. When she was four, on a stormy night, her mother brought home six-year-old Ethan. She’d meant to hand him over to the police, but Ethan was traumatized and wouldn’t let go, so she brought him back. Unable to find his birth parents, Ethan stayed. From age six to sixteen, Ethan was treated like her mother’s own son. They shared childhood bonds and a sibling-like connection. After her mother fell ill, it was Ethan who ran back and forth handling payments and prescriptions, working with her—attending school by day, working nights to save for her mother’s medicine. No matter where things stood between her and Ethan now, she couldn’t believe he would abandon her mother. Inside the revolving door, the banquet hall door stood ajar. She could faintly hear the emcee’s passionate voice. Sophia charged forward without thinking, shoving the door open. The room fell silent. Every gaze turned toward her. Ethan on stage turned his head as well. When he recognized her, his expression darkened. He strode down and stood before her. “Sophia, I told you I would compensate you, but only if you didn’t disrupt today’s banquet.” “I thought you knew better.” Sophia stared at him, her voice raw. “Ethan, didn’t you promise to take good care of my mom?” Curious guests cast nosy glances. Ethan frowned at her appearance, his words tinged with anger. “The nursing home under the Taylor family has top-tier resources. Clara wouldn’t be petty enough to mistreat Aunt Bridge because of you. What’s wrong with her being there?” Without another glance at Sophia, he gave the security guards a cold order. “Lock her in a lounge. Don’t let her out without my say-so.” Security rushed forward and forcibly dragged Sophia out. Sophia struggled desperately but was eventually shoved into an empty room. Bang. The lock clicked. She slid down the door and sat on the floor, trembling all over. Voices came from outside—the guards talking. “Who is that woman? She looks pretty pathetic.” Another voice spoke sympathetically: “She’s the childhood friend from when Mr. Pierce was stuck in the slums! But damn, what bad luck, making a scene on his wedding day.” “Though her mom really did die horribly. She could’ve lived a few more years with proper treatment, but Miss Taylor interfered and stopped the medication.” “Even made the old lady clean to pay off medical bills. The woman could barely get out of bed—how could she survive that? In the end, even her body was put to use, donated to the medical school.” Sophia froze. The other person asked in surprise: “Mr. Pierce didn’t do anything? She raised him, didn’t she?” “Hard to say. If Mr. Pierce hadn’t gone over a year without visiting the old lady, Miss Taylor wouldn’t have just killed her off.” The rest became a buzzing roar in Sophia’s ears. Chapter Three Her mother hadn’t died of illness—she’d been driven to death by Clara Taylor. And after death, she couldn’t even keep her body intact. And Ethan, the man who once swore to protect her, either knew nothing about it or chose to turn a blind eye. Sophia curled up on the floor, tears streaming down uncontrollably, but she couldn’t make a sound. At some point, the voices outside stopped. The door cracked open quietly. An old cell phone was pushed inside. A hushed voice came through: “Miss Bridge, my condolences.” “This was your mother’s belonging. Before she died, she asked me to give it to you if I could.” Sophia thanked them shakily, her hands trembling so badly she could barely unlock the phone. Finally opening it, she saw a video file. The camera showed her mother’s gaunt, pale face. Anyone could see she was in terrible condition. But her tone was as gentle as ever. “Sophia, I might not be able to wait for you to get out.” “The doctor said I owe fifty or sixty thousand in medical bills. I thought about cleaning hospital rooms to offset some of it… but it’s nowhere near enough.” “Ethan’s been so busy he hasn’t visited in over a year. Sometimes I think I’ve been too much of a burden on you both.” “If I’m gone, the weight on your and Ethan’s shoulders will be much lighter. So I’ve decided to stop treatment.” “The young lady at this hospital told me that if I voluntarily donate my body to the medical school, she’ll write off the debt.” “Sophia, when you learn about this, don’t blame Ethan. He did his best. You two be happy together, okay?” The video ended abruptly. Sophia felt as though all the blood had been drained from her body. She was ice-cold. Her mother chose to end her own life simply because she didn’t want to burden the child she’d raised as her own. Even in death, her mother had worried about Ethan. But what was fifty or sixty thousand to Ethan after returning to the Pierce family? Less than the cost of a single meal. The phone dropped to the floor. The emotional shock was too much—her vision went dark. In the darkness, Sophia seemed to return to a rainy night many years ago. She’d just started middle school. Her mother was working the night shift. She woke up in the middle of the night with a fever, burning up. Ethan hoisted her onto his back and ran to the clinic. Rain dripped from his hair, mixing with sweat and splashing onto her face. He gasped for breath but still comforted her: “Don’t be scared, Sophia. I’m here.” Later, when she woke up, she saw him slumped over the bedside, fast asleep with dark circles under his eyes. That was their poorest time, and the time when they thought they’d always be together. When she opened her eyes again, tears had crusted in her lashes. She exhaled softly and picked up the phone again. Sophia dialed a number she knew by heart. It rang three times before an elderly voice answered: “Hello?” “Professor Lewis, it’s me.” Silence on the other end, then rapid breathing: “Sophia? You’re out?” “Good girl,” the old man’s voice trembled with emotion. “You gave up your grad school recommendation to take the fall for that Pierce boy. Such a promising student, wasted… It’s been eating at me all these years!” “That aerospace materials project proposal you submitted—I’m actually heading it up now. If you’re interested, you’re always welcome.” Chapter Four Sophia lowered her eyes, her voice gentle. “Not becoming your student back then is one of my regrets. I heard you mention this project last time, but didn’t you say the team was full? And that Clara Taylor was on it too.” The professor’s voice clearly grew heavy. “She just wants to pad her resume. I hate people who fish for glory like that. If you agree to join, I’ll have my assistant adjust the team roster immediately.” “Alright.” Sophia’s reply was soft. “Thank you, Professor Lewis.” After hanging up, Sophia closed her eyes. During her six years in prison, it was Professor Lewis who visited her monthly and updated her on the world outside. So she knew Clara had been trying to join Professor Lewis’s research team to polish her image and shed her “trophy wife” label. Well, she’d take that away from her—this was only the first step. After the wedding banquet noise died down, her door finally opened. The guard indicated she could leave. Sophia took a deep breath, grabbed the old phone, and walked out. She didn’t look at the lavish venue or at Ethan in the distance. She simply walked, step by step, back to her alma mater, waiting for next Sunday to head to South City with her research team. Over the following days, she buried herself in the library and lab, slowly recovering what she’d lost over six years. Until the university hosted an internal banquet to send off Professor Lewis’s project team. She saw Ethan and Clara again. The pair stood intimately together, radiant under the lights. Their presence wasn’t surprising—both held PhDs from River University. Sophia lowered her eyes, pretending not to see them. She stood quietly behind Professor Lewis like a dutiful shadow. Midway through the banquet, Sophia excused herself. She’d just turned a corner when she saw Ethan. He leaned against the wall, blocking her path, a thin card pinched between his fingers and held out toward her. “This is the compensation I promised you. The amount inside is enough for the rest of your life.” Ethan’s tone was indifferent. “I won’t hold what happened last time against you. But after you take this, stop appearing in front of me and Clara.” Sophia looked at the card and almost wanted to laugh. “Ethan, get this straight.” “I’m not trying to appear in front of you two. I’m just living my normal life.” She stepped back, creating distance, her voice calm: “I don’t need your compensation. I just want us to be even. Nothing more between us.” Ethan frowned, apparently not expecting this reaction. He was about to say more when Sophia sidestepped him and walked forward without looking back. After the banquet ended, the crowd gradually dispersed. Sophia remembered she still had materials Professor Lewis had hastily compiled that needed to be delivered to a team member. Following the room number from memory, she lifted her hand and knocked. The door opened quickly. The next second, a powerful force struck. Caught off guard, Sophia was yanked into the room by someone inside, her back slamming hard against the door. Only then did she realize the person in the room was Ethan! He was clearly not in his right mind—skin burning hot, eyes tinged red. He gripped her tightly, his scalding body heat seeping through and making her momentarily dazed. But that daze vanished instantly. She snapped alert and began struggling violently, shoving hard at his chest. Chapter Five But not only did Ethan not let go, he began tearing at her clothing, kisses falling on her neck. In the struggle, Sophia could bear it no longer. All the humiliation and rage she’d accumulated erupted in that moment. She raised her hand and slapped him across the face with all her strength. Ethan’s head snapped to the side, a red mark blooming rapidly on his cheek. The slap seemed to restore some of his senses. He shook his head and pressed his stinging cheek. “Sophia Bridge, what are you doing here?” His head throbbed. He looked down, and his expression darkened completely. “…You drugged me?” Before he finished speaking, Clara’s voice came from the hallway. “Sophia Bridge, what are you two doing?” She stood in the doorway, taking in the scene, and shrieked. “Have you no shame? Ethan just got drunk and came here to rest, and you take advantage to throw yourself at him?” “Even if you were childhood friends, he’s married to me now!” The commotion immediately drew nearby faculty and students. A crowd gathered outside the door, pointing and whispering like a rising tide. “So that’s the one who went to prison…” “No way, Mr. Pierce is married. How shameless is she?” “Throwing herself at him on campus—my God, I think I heard Mr. Pierce say she drugged him?” Sophia bit down hard, suppressing the metallic taste in her throat. “I didn’t.” “I didn’t do this. I only came to deliver a document.” Ethan’s brow furrowed tightly, the last trace of warmth vanishing from his eyes. “If not you, then who?” “You refused the money, then turned around and pulled this stunt. Sophia Bridge, what exactly do you want?” His words cut off any path for her to defend herself. The surrounding gazes became tangible needles, piercing her densely. Ethan cast Sophia a cold glance, his breathing still unsteady, then turned to face Clara: “To the hospital.” The protagonists left, and naturally the crowd dispersed too. But that very night, the incident exploded across the campus forum. Someone had recorded video. Ethan’s final words were captured clearly. The comment section fell instantly, countless anonymous IDs launching personal attacks. They dug up everything from her prison record to her background, saying she’d deluded herself into thinking she could marry into wealth just because her family took in Mr. Pierce, that money wasn’t enough and she wanted more. Someone even found Professor Lewis’s project team and mocked him for being senile, recruiting anyone into his group. The next morning, the dorm supervisor came to her door with a cold tone, telling her to pack up and leave. The reason: bad influence. Actually, she didn’t need the university to kick her out—she knew she had to leave. Professor Lewis couldn’t keep her even if he wanted to, so he moved up her flight to South City by two days and pressed some cash into her hands. Sophia first checked into a hotel near the airport, waiting for departure time. But the fallout from public opinion far exceeded her expectations. She’d just grabbed her suitcase to head downstairs when someone blocked her path. The man wore flashy designer clothes, his eyes raking over her up and down. “Well, well, if it isn’t the infamous bed-climbing Sophia? Why don’t you have a drink with me?” Sophia paused but didn’t acknowledge him, gripping her suitcase and trying to walk around him. But he grabbed her arm, his hand falling to her waist as he tried to drag her toward a nearby room. Sophia tried to shake off his grip but couldn’t break free. “Get off me!” People watched but no one intervened. The man snorted coldly and reached for her clothes. Chapter Six “Playing innocent? Aren’t you just selling yourself anyway?” “I’m not eating for free, sweetheart. I’ll pay you, okay?” Just then, a commotion came from the lobby downstairs. She instinctively looked down and saw Ethan entering. The hotel manager bowed and scraped at his side, holding a stack of documents—clearly they’d just finished a business meeting. In that moment, Sophia had only the instinct to escape. She couldn’t care about dignity or appearances anymore. Across the railing, she shouted loudly: “Help! I don’t know him! He’s harassing me, someone help me!” Ethan, who’d been speaking to the manager, paused. Then he raised his eyes, his gaze landing on her. But his eyes stayed only a moment before shifting to the man beside her. The man grinned and waved casually downstairs: “Brother-in-law! Is this the one who climbed into your bed?” “She was just throwing herself at me, but the second she saw you she started acting, claiming I’m harassing her. I’m innocent here!” Brother-in-law. Sophia’s whole body went rigid, her pupils contracting sharply. He was Clara’s brother. Ethan’s expression remained cold. He didn’t even glance at Sophia, simply speaking flatly without a trace of warmth: “You’re saying a Taylor heir is harassing you?” He paused, his gaze returning to Sophia’s ashen face, a mocking edge entering his tone: “Does he need to?” Sophia stood frozen, her face burning hot. He didn’t believe she was being harassed. Instead, he believed she was deliberately trying to latch onto someone. Seeing her silence, the subtle anger in Ethan’s eyes intensified. He continued coldly: “Can’t climb into my bed, so now you’re looking for another branch to climb?” His words were clear, each one like a slap across the face, leaving her dizzy and disoriented. Ethan stopped looking at her. He turned back to the hotel manager: “Go over the contract details one more time. I’m going to check the site.” With that, he strode away, his figure quickly disappearing through the hotel entrance. Seeing Ethan leave, the man grabbed Sophia’s wrist with a sleazy grin: “Come on, beautiful. My brother-in-law won’t help you. He only likes my sister. You might as well come with me.” Sophia’s limbs went stiff as he dragged her into the nearby guest room. She closed her eyes. The instant he pressed down on her, she grabbed the water glass beside her and smashed it hard against the back of his head. A dull thud. The man screamed, clutching his head and rolling to the floor. Sophia stumbled to her feet. Without thinking twice, she rushed to the window. Without hesitation, she pushed it open, climbed over, and jumped. Searing pain exploded from her ankle on impact. She even heard the horrible sound of bone displacement. But she didn’t dare stop. Enduring the agony, she practically crawled to the roadside. Fortunately, the airport was nearby, and a kind passerby helped her. By the time Sophia sat in the airport, her ankle was already in a cast. She took out the fake certificate she’d never gotten around to throwing away, studied it briefly, then tossed it in the trash. The plane would depart for South City in two hours. In two hours, she would begin a new life. Ethan had filled her first twenty years. He would not be in the rest of her life.

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On All Souls’ Day, my parents went home to sweep the graves. I was home alone and starving. I couldn’t resist eating a piece of bread from the offering plate. That afternoon, I started feeling nauseous. The next day, I was vomiting so hard I could barely stand. My best friend took me to the hospital for a checkup. When I saw the ultrasound results showing an early intrauterine pregnancy, I was completely stunned. I didn’t even have a boyfriend! Whose child was in my belly? I wanted to abort the baby, but my parents stopped me. They didn’t scold me or even ask whose child it was. They just took care of me attentively. Until the day of delivery, when I was delirious from pain. Before I could even look at the child, my father poured boiling water on my cervix while my mother strangled me tightly with a hemp rope. They looked at me with venomous eyes and said, “You got knocked up like a stray dog without even knowing who did it. Having a daughter like you is such a disgrace!” I fought back desperately, but it was useless. When I opened my eyes again, I had been reborn to the day of the checkup. This time I was going to find out the truth about my pregnancy!

After finishing the examination, the doctor handed me the report. It showed “early intrauterine pregnancy.” Exactly the same result as my previous life. Seeing me in a daze, the doctor seemed impatient. “Go home and think about it. Whether you want it or not, decide quickly.” My best friend Emily quickly pulled me out of the examination room, asking as we walked. “Think carefully—did you actually do it with anyone…” “No!” I interrupted her. “I’m with you every day. Have you ever seen me talk more than a sentence to any guy?” Emily fell silent. My mind was a complete mess. I clearly hadn’t crossed any lines with anyone of the opposite sex. How could I be pregnant? I just ate a piece of bread. Could there be something wrong with the bread? My thoughts grew more chaotic. I took a deep breath. No matter what the truth was, I absolutely would not keep this child. “Emily, I’m heading home first. You be safe going back too.” Emily wanted to say something, but I didn’t give her the chance. I walked straight toward the exit. Only after making sure she couldn’t see me did I turn around and head to the obstetrics and gynecology surgery department. In my last life, I was too obedient, too weak. When they told me to give birth, I gave birth. When they told me to raise it, I raised it. I died without ever knowing what was inside my belly. Not this life. No matter how this child got here, no matter what they were planning, I was getting rid of it first! There was a long line outside the operating room. I sat in the corner, clutching that ultrasound report. After waiting forty minutes, my turn finally came. The female doctor looked me up and down, her face showing mockery. “Abortion? Another case of getting pregnant before marriage, right?” Seeing that I didn’t speak, she rolled her eyes directly. “I’ve seen plenty of irresponsible young people like you. At least you’re here to get an abortion, which proves your brain still works. Otherwise, with a mother like you, how miserable would that child be?” Her words made my face burn. I tried to explain. But she waved her hand to cut me off, very impatiently. “Alright, alright, hurry up and take off your clothes and lie down. I’m very busy.” I awkwardly unbuttoned my pants. The female doctor was about to change into her surgical gown when she suddenly remembered something. “Wait, you haven’t shown me the ultrasound report yet, right?” “Not yet.” I quickly handed the report over. Looking at the operating table right in front of me, the heavy burden in my heart lightened considerably. Once the surgery was done, I probably wouldn’t die again. The female doctor took the report, and the impatient expression on her face instantly became serious. The person who had just been urging me to get the surgery suddenly did a complete one-eighty. Her face darkened, looking at me as if I were a monster, her tone hostile: “I can’t do this surgery. Get out!” Both the assistant beside her and I were completely confused, not knowing what had happened. The assistant patted my shoulder to comfort me. She was about to speak up for me when, after seeing the report, she started cursing at me directly. “Get out now! You bitch, someone like you should go to the eighteenth level of hell!”

I was thrown out. The operating room door slammed shut heavily, and my heart sank to the bottom. What the hell was going on? I looked at the ultrasound report in my hand over and over, but couldn’t see anything unusual. Suddenly a hand grabbed me. It was Emily. “What are you doing?” I stumbled to steady myself as she dragged me outside. She didn’t say anything. I was dragged all the way out of the hospital entrance, and only under a streetlight did she let go. I took two steps back, panting. “Are you fucking crazy?” Emily stood opposite me, her eyes red-rimmed. She stared at me, taking a long time before forcing out a sentence. “You can’t abort it.” I was stunned. “This child came out of nowhere.” “I don’t even know how it got inside me. You think I should give birth to it?” Emily took my hand, her eyes full of worry. “Your body isn’t good to begin with. If you abort this child, what if you can’t get pregnant in the future?” I looked into her eyes and shrugged. “Being alone is pretty good. Besides, I’ll have you to keep me company when I’m old.” Emily immediately broke into a smile through her tears. “But don’t be impulsive. Wait until things are clear before aborting. It’s not too late.” I observed her reaction calmly. She really was concerned about me. My heart warmed. “You go home first,” I said. “I want to be alone for a while.” “But you…” she said hesitantly. “I won’t do it again. It’s too late today. I’ll go home and think about it first.” Emily looked at me, her eyes still red. “Then I’ll take you home.” “No need. I want to clear my head alone.” She hesitated for a few seconds, then let go of my hand. “Then message me when you get home.” I nodded in agreement. She turned and walked toward the other side of the street. After a few steps, she looked back at me. I stood in place without moving, waving at her. She finally disappeared around the corner. I waited five minutes. Then I turned around, hailed a taxi, and went straight to the nearest private clinic—24-hour abortion services. The abortion fee at the small clinic wasn’t cheap. I gritted my teeth and paid. The receptionist led me into a small examination room. A middle-aged male doctor sat inside. Seeing that I was dressed lightly, he thoughtfully handed me a jacket. “Are you an adult, young lady? Do your parents know?” I was a bit nervous. “I’m an adult. They don’t know.” The male doctor was stunned for a moment, then showed a kind smile. “Okay, don’t be afraid. My place may be small but it’s very legitimate. Don’t worry.” He had a very approachable appearance, and most of my nervousness dissipated. He poured me a glass of water and handed it to me. “Don’t feel ashamed. Pregnancy is normal, abortion is normal too. It doesn’t mean anything.” I looked at him gratefully. “Thank you, doctor!” The male doctor smiled. “No need to thank me. Let me see your ultrasound report.” Thinking of what happened earlier, I hesitated a bit. But the surgery had to be done. Steeling myself, I handed him the report. The male doctor glanced at the report. His smiling gaze instantly became terrifyingly sinister, as if he wanted to rush over and devour me. “I can’t do this surgery! Go die!” He splashed the half-finished water in my face, roaring in a sinister voice. “Get out! You filthy bitch, get out now!”

I was thrown out again. I clutched the report, nearly on the verge of collapse. What the hell was going on? Why wouldn’t anyone perform the surgery for me? What was wrong with this report? Whose child was in my belly? One mystery after another was driving me insane. But I couldn’t break down. I had to find out the truth! I wiped away my tears and started thinking about my next plan. Since hospitals wouldn’t perform the surgery, I’d just do a medical abortion. Where should I do it? I definitely couldn’t go home. That’s where I died in my last life. My phone vibrated. A message from Emily: Are you home? I looked at those three words and hesitated for a few seconds. I had no one else now, only her. I called her. “Hello?” Her voice was a bit hoarse, like she’d been asleep and was woken up. “Emily, can I sleep at your place?” I asked. There was a pause on the other end. “Where are you? I’ll come get you.” Forty minutes later, I was lying on the couch in her living room. Emily poured me a glass of hot water and sat next to me watching. “What’s really going on?” she asked. “Didn’t you say you were going home to think?” I looked at the cup in my hands without speaking. She didn’t rush me, just sat there. After a long silence, I spoke. “This child can’t possibly exist.” Emily looked at me. “I don’t even know where it came from,” I said. “I’ve never had a boyfriend, never did anything like that with anyone. I haven’t even had my first kiss.” She opened her mouth but didn’t speak. My mind went back to that bread on All Souls’ Day. “On All Souls’ Day, my parents went back to their hometown to sweep graves. I was home alone. I got hungry and ate a piece of bread from the offering table.” I looked at Emily. “That afternoon after eating it, I started feeling nauseous. The next day I was vomiting.” She froze. “You mean…” “I haven’t had sex, don’t have a boyfriend. The only possibility is that bread,” I said. “I got pregnant after eating it.” Emily stared at me, not speaking for a long time. Then she laughed. “How is that possible?” she said. “Getting pregnant from eating something? You think this is a myth?” “I know it sounds ridiculous, but I can’t think of anything else,” I sighed. “Then think about this,” she leaned forward. “The night after you ate the bread, after you fell asleep, did you feel sore all over when you woke up the next day?” I was stunned. “No.” “Are you sure?” “I’m sure. I just woke up normally.” “Then is it possible…” her voice lowered, “that someone came in?” I understood her implication. “Impossible,” I shook my head. “My house is on the seventh floor, the door lock was fine. And even if someone came in, how could I have felt nothing at all?” Emily stopped talking. After a moment of silence, I took a deep breath and said: “Emily, I don’t have any money right now. Can you lend me some? I need to take pills to abort the child.” She was stunned for a moment, then nodded. “What’s this talk of lending between us? Just use it. But won’t a medical abortion be risky? I’m worried about your body…” I shook my head: “The pregnancy is still early, medical abortion isn’t that dangerous.” Emily breathed a sigh of relief: “Then I’m relieved. But can you buy the abortion pills outside?” I sighed: “Probably not.” She frowned in thought for a moment, then her eyes lit up. “I’ve got an idea.” Emily picked up her phone and made a call. A few minutes later, she looked excited. “Done! The medicine will be delivered soon. A good friend of mine is a doctor—he prescribed it.” I hugged her gratefully. “Emily, thank you. Without you I wouldn’t know what to do.” My anxious heart settled down. At least I had a friend by my side who believed in me unconditionally. Half an hour later, the medicine arrived. Emily was afraid I’d make a mistake, so she had me rest while she busily prepared the medication herself. After preparing the medicine, she pushed me to take a shower, saying it was a necessary procedure. I happened to feel uncomfortable anyway, so I didn’t refuse and let her help me take off my jacket. The ultrasound report fell out of my pocket. Before I could pick it up, Emily had already grabbed it. “Oh, I haven’t looked at your report yet.” I tried to snatch it back, but she dodged. Emily held the report and looked at me with a smile. “Don’t be so stingy. The baby’s going to be aborted anyway—can’t you let me, the godmother, take a look?” With that, her gaze shifted to the report. Her sweet smile instantly vanished completely, replaced by a terrifying expression I’d never seen on her face before. Emily stared at me, her tone full of deep disgust and loathing. “The child can’t be aborted!” After saying this, she frantically dumped the prepared medicine into the trash can. I couldn’t care about her change in behavior. Everything stemmed from the thing in my belly. Tonight this child had to die! I lunged at her and grabbed the trash can. “Emily, what’s going on? What’s wrong with the report?” I asked while dodging. But Emily didn’t answer me, just chased after me like a mad dog. I was cornered. Her eyes were bloodshot, as if she wanted to kill me. I pressed against the wall, my mind in chaos. Just then, the doorbell rang.

It was my parents. Emily finally calmed down and opened the door. My mother stood at the entrance, my father behind her. Both their faces looked grim, but when they saw me, they forced smiles. “What are you doing here, Heather?” My mother walked in. “You sent a message saying you were sleeping at your friend’s place. We were so worried.” I leaned against the wall without moving. Everything that happened today was too bizarre. “It was too late so I didn’t go back,” I explained. My mother nodded, her gaze falling on what Emily was holding. That ultrasound report. She motioned for Emily to hand it to her. My mother took it and looked down at it. My father leaned over. The room was quiet for a few seconds. There was no change like I’d expected. They were just calm, like in my previous life. My mother looked up, her face wearing a smile. “It’s fine.” She put down the report and sat beside me. “If you’re pregnant, just give birth. Mom will help you raise it.” I looked at her. “You’ve had poor health since you were little,” she continued. “Abortion is too hard on the body. Keep this child—our family can afford to raise it.” Exactly the same as my previous life. Not a single word different. “Dad, Mom,” I spoke. “Aren’t you going to ask whose child this is?” They froze. My mother and father exchanged glances. Then my mother smiled again: “If you knew whose it was, you wouldn’t be hiding it like this. It’s okay, no matter whose it is, it’s our family’s child.” My father nodded beside her. I stared at their faces. In my previous life, I was convinced this way too. They said it was okay, said they’d help me raise it, said not to worry. I believed them, and then I died. This life I wouldn’t believe them again. “No,” I stood up. My mother froze. “What do you mean no?” “This child can’t be kept,” I said. “I have to abort it.” My mother’s face changed. “What are you talking about?” “I’m not talking nonsense,” I took a step back and grabbed the abortion pills from the trash, shoving them in my mouth. “This child’s origins are unknown. I don’t want it.” My father took a step forward: “Listen to your parents…” “I won’t listen!” Emily rushed over from the side, grabbed my arm, and kicked the trash can away. The remaining pills scattered all over the floor. “You can’t abort the child!” I shook her off. “Why not? Every single one of you won’t let me abort it, but do you know how this child got here? I don’t even know myself. Having it in my belly disgusts me!” No one spoke. I looked at the three of them. They all stared at me. Those eyes—exactly the same. I backed toward the side, backing up to the dining table and grabbing a fruit knife. Even though I knew from my previous life that my parents wanted me dead, at least not right now. I still wanted to gamble. Gamble with my life. “Let me abort it,” I pointed the knife at myself. “If you don’t let me abort it, I’ll die.” My mother screamed. “You’re crazy!” “I am crazy!” I shouted. “Let me abort it!” Emily rushed forward. I didn’t react in time. The next second, her hand was already around my throat. Her strength was frighteningly strong. She pinned me against the wall. My back hit it painfully, and the knife in my hand fell to the floor. “You fucking dare to die?” Her face was only four inches from mine. “You can die, but the child must live!” I struggled desperately, my nails clawing at her hand. My father and mother stood to the side, motionless. I suddenly understood. They were working together. From the very beginning. I was running out of breath, my vision starting to go black. Just then, my hand dropped and touched something. Then my eyes widened in disbelief. I knew—I finally knew whose child this was!

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I went diving with my boyfriend during vacation. Underwater, his classmate Keira yanked off my mask. After barely making it back to shore alive, I immediately called the police and had her arrested. My boyfriend watched everything I did and nodded silently. “Keira really needed to be taught a lesson.” But a year later on the same date, I was kidnapped and taken to a deserted island. Slaps rained down on my face. “You love tattling to the police, don’t you? Go ahead, report me! You owe me this! You owe me!” The voice was familiar yet crazed—it was Keira, my boyfriend’s classmate who had just been released from prison. My face burned with stinging pain, but my boyfriend beside me remained unmoved. He even handed Keira a glass of hot water. “Don’t be scared. Once Keira vents her anger, it’ll be fine. We owe her this.” But he didn’t know—I was pregnant. And if my phone lost signal for more than 18 hours, it would automatically send my satellite location to my three brothers. 0 Tears welled in my eyes as I looked at Zachary with desperate hope. “Save me, please.” The usually proud me was begging him. It moved Zachary, but after glancing at Keira and looking back at me, his eyes held only apology. “I…” I’m carrying our child—but before I could finish, he cut me off. “Miranda, we owe Keira this.” Zachary kissed away the tears at the corners of my eyes, gently blowing on my reddened, swollen face. “Don’t worry, Keira knows her limits.” On the other side, watching Zachary kiss me only enraged Keira further. She grabbed the rope binding me and dragged me to the shore, kicking at the back of my knees. But my pride as a Holmes daughter wouldn’t let me kneel. “Let me go!” I kept shouting, but it was useless—this was an isolated island. “Shout all you want! I’m taking you diving. You love diving, don’t you?” She grabbed my hair and yanked hard. My scalp screamed with pain. “If you hadn’t gone diving, how would I have ‘accidentally’ removed your mask? It’s all your fault!” So it was about last year’s diving incident. But that was clearly deliberate—how could a woman in her twenties do that by accident? I twisted my body, struggling violently, which only made her pull my hair harder. “Stop moving!” Keira suddenly shoved my head underwater for dozens of seconds. Watching me choke and struggle, she revealed a maniacal smile. “I just love Zachary, that’s all. He rejected me, so I wanted to punish you a little. Why did you have to be so aggressive? Why did you have me arrested? What’s wrong with loving someone?” At this, Keira’s rage peaked, and she kicked me in the stomach. That one kick nearly caused a miscarriage. The intense pain made me cry out: “Help… save my baby!” Keira panicked too. Just then, footsteps sounded from the nearby bushes. It was Zachary, returning with the medical kit. Seeing me lying on the ground screaming, his pupils constricted. He slid to his knees beside me, trembling hands lifting me up. “Zachary, she’s pregnant? I think I kicked her and she’s bleeding. Do you feel sorry for her?” Keira ran to Zachary’s side, watching him anxiously. Zachary’s face looked terrible. Seeing this, Keira broke down crying. “What about me? What about the harm I suffered in prison? You knew I liked you!” Zachary struggled to tear his gaze from me, releasing his hold and laying me back down. He turned and embraced Keira, patting her soothingly. “I know, Keira, I know. But I only love Miranda.” He sighed again, his eyes overflowing with heartache as he looked at me. “This… this is what we owe you.” Zachary retrieved surgical tools from the medical kit that he always carried. In the dusty air, he walked toward me step by step. I wanted to push him away, but I had no strength left. I could only watch helplessly as Zachary’s hands moved. The anesthesia was administered. I lost consciousness. Zachary, is this what you meant by protecting me? When I woke again, I felt the connection with my child severed. I screamed in anguish: “What gives you the right? That was my child! What right did you have to decide his life or death alone?” Just two days ago, I’d ordered so many cute baby clothes online, imagining my baby calling me “Mommy.” 0

Zachary was the city’s renowned surgical prodigy. Patients he’d saved would come to the hospital to praise his skills. When I wanted to become a travel blogger, my family disagreed. After fighting with my eldest brother, I got into a car accident. It was Zachary who saved me. He decisively performed surgery on me right in the ambulance, saving my leg. He later became my attending physician. Back then, he was gentle as jade, yet his cheeks would flush slightly whenever he looked at me, and he’d bring me breakfast every day. Because of his shyness, even after I was discharged, he never worked up the courage to ask for my contact information. The next time I ended up in the hospital was for appendicitis. Zachary had prepared several surgical plans, explaining the risks of each one to me. Later, I passed by his office and overheard his conversation with a colleague. “Miranda Holmes’s surgery was already assigned to me. Why did you suddenly take it over? I’ve done thousands of these minor procedures, okay?” But Zachary told his colleague word by word: “I want Miranda Holmes’s surgery. Nothing can go wrong!” That was the moment my heart began beating for Zachary. And now? He moved me to a picnic blanket and performed an abortion on me outdoors, completely disregarding cross-specialty surgery protocols and environmental hygiene issues. That night, I lay in the tent with tears streaming down my face. Zachary was at a loss, wiping away my tears again and again. “Miranda, Miranda, don’t cry. We’ll have another child. I’ll stay with you tonight. Don’t be afraid—there are no wild animals on this island.” He kept pecking kisses on my face, each one bringing damp warmth, trying to dissolve my sadness. But how could the pain of losing a child disappear with just a few kisses? I suppressed the nausea churning in my stomach and didn’t move. Before the lights were even off, screams and sobs came from the tent next door. “Don’t come near me! Stay away!” Zachary looked at me with difficulty, hesitating. After a final scream erupted from the neighboring tent, he suddenly stood up and left. “Miranda, wait for me. I’ll be back.” After the moon shyly hid itself away, a fierce sound suddenly burst from next door: “Zachary, be gentle!” “Keep it down. Miranda’s asleep. This is the last time. I only love Miranda.” “Zachary, love me again, love me once more! You owe me this…” Keira whimpered and moaned. I don’t know what she did, but Zachary let out a muffled groan. “Fine, one last time. This is the last time!” Then came a series of explosive sounds, as if celebrating my miscarriage. Endless “last times.” I didn’t know whether to cry for my lost child or my lost love. I lay in the tent, my whole body in pain. I tried curling up to ease it, but it was useless. I crawled out of the tent bit by bit. Just a few more hours, and I could go home. But I felt so sorry for my unborn child. I would make them pay. Early the next morning, when Zachary emerged from her tent, I was sitting at the entrance of mine watching the sunrise. Seeing me, his face filled with panic. “Miranda, Keira was too scared last night, so I slept with her. Don’t worry—I only love you.” Zachary took off his jacket and draped it over me, looking concerned about me catching cold. Keira didn’t wake up until noon. She yanked the jacket off me and tossed it to Zachary, saying, “Zachary, I’m hungry. Let’s have barbecue. But we don’t have anything to start a fire with. What should we do?” “I know! We’ll use her clothes to start the fire!” Keira asked and answered her own question, then pointed at my skirt, about to step forward and take it off. This time, Zachary stood firmly in front of me. “No! Miranda just had an abortion yesterday!” “Why not? In prison, they used my clothes to start fires. Why can’t we use hers?” Keira knelt on the ground, muttering repeatedly: “When they stripped my clothes to start fires and made me bark like a dog, where were you? Why do you always help her? Who’s going to help me?” “I want my dad back!” Hearing this, Zachary felt another stab to his heart. Keira’s father was his lifesaver. To protect Zachary from an angry patient, he’d been stabbed through the heart and couldn’t be saved. From then on, Zachary had always taken care of Keira. He softened again. 0

Zachary turned to look at me. “Miranda, I’m sorry. I’ll only use your t-shirt. I’ll leave the skirt so you won’t catch cold.” I backed away in disbelief. After resting all night, I’d recovered some strength. I pushed him away hard and tried to run, but within a few steps, Keira grabbed my hair. “Don’t run! You owe me this!” Keira tore my t-shirt to shreds. The pieces fell to the ground. “Ah!” As the only daughter of the Holmes family, I had never suffered such humiliation. I swung my hand to slap her, but Zachary caught my raised arm. “Miranda, Keira’s still young.” Still young at over twenty? Keira was only five years younger than me. But I didn’t dare argue back. On this island, only Zachary had any surface-level affection for me. If I fell out with him, I didn’t dare imagine what would happen. I could only endure. Keira looked at the shredded clothes on the ground, her eyes suddenly brightening. She wove all the fabric scraps together into a long whip, then casually struck me across the face with it. “Bad dog!” Zachary was so close to me. He didn’t help me avoid the danger I faced, yet earlier he’d reflexively protected Keira. Though I’d decided last night I would never love him again, my heart still felt like it was being stabbed with needles. “Keira, what are you doing?” Zachary’s stern rebuke only made Keira more manic. “I’m making her be my dog! That’s what I did in prison too. If Dad were here, he’d help me.” She turned and retrieved a frisbee from the tent, threw it far away, then cracked the whip at me. “Go fetch it!” Zachary was still immersed in guilt over “if Dad were here, he’d help me,” indifferent to my situation. He even turned and said, “I’ll go make food.” Then he walked away without looking back. Keira’s whip kept striking my body, but my pride as a Holmes daughter wouldn’t allow me to submit. Seeing I still wouldn’t move, she bent down and whispered, “Miranda Holmes, if you play my dog this time, I’ll let you go.” Looking at her deranged expression, my anger reached its peak. “Keira, I can do it, but are you sure you can handle the Holmes family’s retaliation?” I stared directly into her eyes, my gaze filled with killing intent. She was startled, then burst out laughing. “The Holmes family? Everyone knows Holmes Group only has three sons. There’s no daughter! Now crawl!” When she said the last sentence, her eyes were vicious, and she struck me with another whip using all her strength. My body screamed with pain. I took a deep breath and knelt down on all fours. Keira jumped for joy, saying to me: “Good dog, go fetch!” I crawled toward the frisbee step by step. Every movement pulled at my body painfully. Keira followed behind me and whipped me again. “Bad dog! I told you to pick it up in your mouth!” I took a deep breath, picked up the frisbee with my teeth, and crawled toward Keira. When I reached her, she proudly patted my head. She bent down, revealing marks from last night’s battle, and whispered in my ear: “Good girl, so good. I’ll reward you with some good news!” “You don’t know this, but I didn’t suffer any injuries in prison. The women’s prison I stayed in—how could there be men to get me pregnant? It was just day after day of moral education lectures that gave me a headache.” “And my dad—that time when he blocked the knife during the medical dispute, I was the one who pushed him forward. I couldn’t let my beloved Zachary get hurt.” “Oh, and Zachary—last night’s Zachary was so passionate. You haven’t been satisfying him, have you? He wanted me again and again.” “Oops, I said too much. Good dog, you’ll keep my secret, won’t you?” Zachary in the distance didn’t hear what Keira said. He was still cooking with a guilty expression. Keira suddenly smiled, raised the whip, and struck herself with it. She screamed, and Zachary dropped what he was holding and ran over. But Zachary’s first glance wasn’t at her—it was at me, lying on the ground covered in sand. He wanted to come forward and brush the sand off me, but Keira collapsed weakly into his arms, her eyes brimming with tears. “Zachary, she hit me! Maybe she wants to play with you. Throw a frisbee and see if she’ll fetch it.” Zachary touched the whip mark on Keira’s arm, closed his eyes, and casually threw the frisbee dozens of meters away. I closed my eyes in despair… Suddenly, a roar came from the sky—the sound of a helicopter!

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I was leaning back against my personal trainer’s chest, mindlessly scrolling through my feed, when a post featuring my own home address stopped my thumb dead. The user, some girl cosplaying as a “struggling house help,” was sobbing in her caption. She’d “accidentally” ruined her employer’s haute couture gown and was terrified she could never afford the repairs. I didn’t need a detective to solve this one. It was Faith, the live-in maid at the townhouse I shared with my husband-of-convenience. Usually, she was all thumbs and clumsy apologies, but apparently, she was a pro when it came to curated digital sympathy. The comments were a bloodbath. Half the people were calling her out, saying if you break it, you buy it, and crying for clout wouldn’t pay the bill. The other half—the “eat the rich” crowd—was coddling her. Then, Faith replied. Her tone was the digital equivalent of a bashful tuck of the hair behind the ear. She claimed she wanted to pay for it, but her “Sir” had already found a different way for her to “compensate” him… all night long. The implication was as thick as New York humidity. I couldn’t help but laugh. I hit the share button and sent the link straight to my “Inner Circle”—a group chat filled with the city’s most eligible bachelors who had been orbiting me for years. I typed out a single message: “Whoever can shave five percent off the Pierce Group’s stock price by the closing bell gets the chance to replace my useless husband.” 1. “Ms. Blackwood, the Pierce Group just hit a five-point-three percent drop.” My assistant’s voice crackled through the intercom. I leaned back in my leather executive chair, watching the red candles flicker on the Bloomberg terminal. The sell-off had started at 2:00 PM sharp, volume spiking like a heart attack. “Understood,” I said, hanging up. I opened my phone. The “Inner Circle” chat was blowing up—hundreds of messages. [Caleb: Evie, I leaked their Q3 receivables to three major financial analysts. The numbers are cooked.] [Leo: I’ve got an ESG firm drafting a report on their environmental violations as we speak.] The last message was from Carter Walsh, my childhood best friend and the heir to the Walsh fortune. [Carter: Done. Five points, on the dot.] I smirked and typed back: “You move fast.” “I’ve been waiting three years for you to ask,” he replied instantly. “I don’t miss my window.” I was about to respond when my phone vibrated with an incoming call. Greg Pierce. “Evelyn,” his voice was a low growl, vibrating with suppressed rage. “What the hell are you doing to my stock?” “Greg,” I said, my voice smooth as silk. “The market is a fickle mistress. Your company’s failure has nothing to do with me.” “Don’t lie to me!” he barked. “Is this because I told Faith she didn’t have to pay for that dress?” “That ‘dress’?” I laughed, a sharp, cold sound. “Greg, that was a vintage McQueen. It was my mother’s eighteenth birthday gift to me. It’s worth nearly a million dollars. Your little maid ruined it on purpose, and you think I’m the one being unreasonable?” “She was just trying to be diligent! Besides, I owe her. She’s done things for me you wouldn’t understand. A dress is nothing compared to her loyalty.” “Diligent?” I interrupted. “Is that why she was posting thirst-traps with our home address at 2:00 AM? Claiming I was ‘stomping on her dignity’ while she spent the night ‘compensating’ you?” “She only posted that because you’ve been suffocating her,” Greg snapped. “I know you look down on her, Evelyn. But she works for a living. She’s earned her place more than someone born into a golden cradle ever will.” I was actually stunned into a laugh. “Greg, do you hear yourself? You’re acting like you’re some self-made man of the people. You’re a Pierce. You’re literally the poster boy for old money.” “I know who I am,” he said. “And I know what this marriage is. It’s business. You’ve used my family’s resources for three years; the least you could do is act like a wife. Faith is a girl with nothing. Why are you so obsessed with bullying her?” I looked out the floor-to-ceiling windows of my office, watching the clouds roll over Manhattan. This petty drama was beneath me. “Greg,” I said. “Since you want to talk about business, let’s talk about the bottom line.” “What?” “The Blackwood-Pierce merger involves six major projects totaling nearly four billion dollars,” I said, sitting up straight. “Because of your maid’s social media antics, my own stock took a three-point hit today. Do you know what that translates to in market cap?” Silence. “Eleven hundred million dollars,” I enunciated every syllable. “A billion-dollar headache because your ‘loyal’ maid wanted to play victim on TikTok. Now, I’m giving you two choices.” “Choice one: Faith Jenkins makes a public apology, admits she destroyed the dress and lied for clout, and she’s out of New York by tonight.” “Absolutely not!” he shouted. “She’s done nothing wrong—” “Choice two,” I cut him off. “We divorce. And I’m invoking Article Seven of our pre-nup. I assume you remember it?” I heard him catch his breath. Article Seven: In the event of gross negligence or reputational damage leading to the dissolution of the marriage, the offending party forfeits fifteen percent of their personal equity to the spouse. “You’re threatening me, Evelyn?” “I’m giving you an out. You have three days to decide.” 2. Three days later, I walked into the townhouse and found Faith on her knees in the living room, scrubbing the floor. She was using a white cashmere throw—the one I’d just brought back from Milan—as a rag. “Ms. Blackwood!” she squeaked, jumping to her feet. She stood straight, clutching the soaked, ruined fabric. “You… you’re home early.” I looked at the throw. The cashmere was matted, dripping with floor cleaner. “That throw,” I said, my eyes meeting hers, “was five thousand Euros. I’ll be deducting that from your final paycheck.” Her face went pale, her lip trembling. “I didn’t mean to… I just thought it looked soft, and I wanted the floors to be perfect for you…” “Perfect?” I stepped into the room. “Faith, we have a closet full of professional cleaning supplies. You’ve been here three months. Don’t tell me you haven’t found them.” “I… I just want to be better…” Her eyes started to well up, but there was a stubborn glint in them. “I know I’m not like you. I know I’m ‘the help.’ But you can’t just use your luxury items to humiliate me because I’m poor!” “Humiliate you?” I smiled. “Faith, if you break something, you pay for it. That’s a lesson they teach in kindergarten. Since when does being broke give you a license to be a thief?” “I’m not a thief!” She raised her voice, chin trembling like a cornered animal. “I’ll pay it back! I have a savings account. I have three thousand dollars… I’ve worked years for that.” She slammed a debit card onto the marble coffee table. “I’ll pay you five hundred a month for the rest. I’ve calculated it. It’ll take me… thirteen years. But I’ll do it. I’ll work nights, I’ll take a second job—” “Your math is off.” I picked up the card, spinning it between my fingers. “The McQueen dress is currently valued at nearly a million dollars. At five hundred a month, you’ll be paying me back for the next hundred and sixty years. And that’s before interest.” She froze. “And this?” I tossed the card back onto the table. “Three thousand dollars? That wouldn’t even cover the dry-cleaning bill for my rugs.” The tears finally fell, but she bit her lip, refusing to let out a sob. It was a masterclass in the “wronged-but-strong” archetype. I was about to end the performance when I heard footsteps on the stairs. Greg rushed down, and the moment he saw Faith crying, his face twisted into a knot of fury. “Evelyn! Again? You’re still on this?” “On this?” I gestured to the cashmere rag. “Greg, your ‘loyal assistant’ just used five-thousand-dollar cashmere to mop the floor. Asking for compensation isn’t bullying—it’s basic accounting.” Greg looked at the ruined fabric, then at Faith’s neck. There was a faint, moon-shaped birthmark peeking out from her collar. That birthmark was his twenty-year obsession. When he was a kid, abandoned by his stepmother in a rough neighborhood for a few hours, a girl with that same mark had shared her sandwich with him. He’d convinced himself she was his “Guardian Angel.” He’d only “found” Faith a few months ago. “She doesn’t know any better,” Greg said, his voice softening as he looked at her. “You could just teach her instead of—” “Why is it my job to raise your maid?” I snapped. “I pay her a salary to work, not to be my apprentice. This isn’t a charity, Greg.” “You’re so cold,” he hissed. “She’s had a hard life—” “A hard life?” I laughed. “She’s making six figures to live in a mansion and ruin my clothes. That’s a dream life for most people.” I walked up to Faith, looking at her tear-stained face. “Faith, if you want to be ‘better,’ stop talking and start paying. If you can’t afford the lifestyle you’re destroying, stop touching things that don’t belong to you.” She glared at me. The sadness was gone, replaced by pure, unadulterated resentment. “Ms. Blackwood,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “I know you look down on me. You were born with everything. You don’t know what it’s like to fight for a scrap of dignity. But I’d rather die than beg for your mercy.” “Brava,” I said, clapping slowly. “Then please, pack your bags and leave my house. As for the compensation… you’ll be hearing from my lawyers.” “Evelyn!” Greg pulled Faith behind him. “You’re really going to do this?” I looked at them—the CEO and the ‘Mistreated’ Maid. A classic melodrama. “Greg, I’m giving you one last chance to be a businessman. Because if we go the legal route, intentional destruction of property at this value carries a prison sentence of three to seven years. Faith, do you want to see if the prison jumpsuits are made of cashmere?” Faith turned ghost-white and grabbed Greg’s arm. “Sir… I don’t want to go to jail…” Greg stared at me, his eyes full of venom. “You’re a monster, Evelyn.” “And you’re a cliché.” I checked my watch. “Five minutes. Both of you. Get out of my house.” I turned and walked upstairs, calling my estate manager to ensure they didn’t “accidentally” pack any of my jewelry on their way out. 3. Three days later was the grand opening of the “Blackwood-Pierce Plaza,” a nearly two-billion-dollar commercial complex. It was the crowning jewel of our merger, the symbol of our families’ union. The gala was held in the glass-walled ballroom on the penthouse floor. Every power player in Manhattan was there. The paparazzi were lined up at the entrance, flashes firing like lightning. I was in a vintage Chanel fishtail gown, holding court in the center of the room. A reporter shoved a mic in my face. “Ms. Blackwood, rumors are swirling about your marriage. Care to comment?” I smiled professionally. “Tonight is about the Plaza. Let’s stick to business.” “But they say you and Mr. Pierce are living apart—” “In business,” I interrupted, “what matters is the ROI. Mr. Pierce and I have always been a high-yield partnership.” Just then, a hush fell over the room. Greg had arrived. And he wasn’t alone. Faith was on his arm. She was wearing a white silk dress—a dress I recognized. I’d tossed it into a donation bin last month because it was out of season. It had been crudely tailored to fit her, cinched tight at the waist to emphasize her curves. But the real insult was the necklace. A strand of South Sea pearls. My father’s wedding gift to me. Worth seven figures. I felt a surge of white-hot rage, but I kept my face a mask of bored elegance. The press swarmed them. “Mr. Pierce! Who is your companion?” “Is this a statement about your marriage, Greg?” Greg looked stiff, trying to shield her from the cameras. “This is my personal assistant. She’s just here to help with the event—” “Sir,” Faith said, her voice soft but perfectly projected for the mics. “Don’t hide me. I’ll tell them.” She stepped forward, giving the cameras a practiced, forty-five-degree-angle smile. “Hi, I’m Faith. I know I shouldn’t be here, but Greg needed someone to lean on. Evelyn is… so busy with work. She doesn’t have time for him. I’m just doing my part to care for him. It’s the least I can do.” The room went silent. Every eye turned to me. I stood my ground, the professional smile still etched on my face. The stage was set. I walked toward the podium and took the microphone. “It seems everyone has seen the headlines,” I said, my voice echoing through the ballroom. “Perfect. Since you’re all here, I have an announcement.” The giant LED screen behind me lit up with a single sentence: “THE CURTAIN FALLS.” “Three years ago, the Blackwood and Pierce families joined in a marriage of strategic interests,” I began, my voice steady. “It was meant to be a model of corporate synergy.” I paused, looking down at Greg, whose face was turning a sickly shade of gray. “Unfortunately, some people forgot that this was just a contract. They started believing in their own fairytales.” “Evelyn!” Greg tried to storm the stage, but my security team blocked his path. “So, tonight,” I raised my voice, “I am announcing three things.” “First: As of this moment, my marriage to Greg Pierce is over. The papers are signed. I wish him and Miss Jenkins a long and… expensive life together.” The room erupted. “Second: All joint ventures between Blackwood Holdings and the Pierce Group are hereby terminated. My legal team is already filing for breach of contract.” “Third…” I looked toward the back of the room. The heavy oak doors swung open.

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