Category: English

I was the ultimate ghostwriter for a billionaire’s daughter. Bianca got to look gorgeous and live her best life, while I spent my days and nights replying to her endless stream of suitors. The desperate simps? I’d ignore them for three hours, then hit them with a dry “cool.” The brooding, tragic boys? A two-hour delay, followed by a soft, “Sorry, been so busy.” The delusional narcissists? Instant block. I had my system down to a science. Until I ran into a guy who defied every category. Not only was he completely unbothered, but he randomly sent cash gifts, shirtless gym selfies showcasing a perfect eight-pack, and face drops that belonged on a high-fashion runway. Behind Bianca’s profile, I couldn’t resist. I fell deep into a thrilling, late-night exchange with him. But all good things come to an end. Bianca suddenly announced her engagement to a wealthy heir and demanded I clear out her roster and hand over the work phone. Swallowing my tears, I cashed out the hundreds of thousands of dollars in commissions I’d accumulated over the past six months. Then, I cleanly deleted and blocked my favorite mystery guy, whispering a silent prayer: May our digital thread burn, and may we never, ever meet in the real world. But fate is a cruel writer. Three days later, I was standing in a dim, exclusive VIP lounge with Bianca when we ran right into him. The second Bianca spotted him, she leaned in, her voice hushed and urgent. “That’s Dean Elton. His family just got back from London, and his standards are impossibly high. Keep your head down, Gwen. Don’t breathe his way.” As I watched the heir march directly toward us with a thunderous look in his eyes, desperation clawed at my throat. “Too late,” I whispered. “I already breathed his way…” 1 Bianca turned to glare at me, her eyes dripping with condescension. “Are you out of your mind, Gwen?” “Someone like you belongs in the gutter with the rest of the trash. Dean Elton? You couldn’t even dream of him in your wildest fantasies.” My mother was the Caldwell family’s maid, and as her daughter, I had spent my entire life under Bianca’s heel. In her eyes, I existed solely to serve her whims. She despised me. She had no idea that just a week ago, the untouchable Dean Elton—the man she claimed was lightyears out of my league—had sent me a string of frantic, pouty messages because I hadn’t replied in ten minutes, asking if I didn’t love him anymore. I swallowed the bitter irony rising in my throat and forced a meek, submissive smile. “I only meant… a man like him might find someone of my status offensive. I don’t want to get in his way and make him angry.” Bianca let out a mocking laugh. “At least you know your place. Stand behind me then.” She shoved me backward. In the brief seconds it took to reposition myself, Dean had already reached us. Bianca elegantly swept her freshly blown-out hair over her shoulder and offered him her most practiced, radiant smile. “Mr. Elton. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I’m Bianca Caldwell.” Dean stopped in his tracks, his eyes narrowing as he scanned her face. “Finally meet?” Bianca blinked, visibly thrown. “Have… have we met before?” Dean’s gaze darkened. Panic seized my chest. If this blew up right here, both of these powerful, ruthless people would destroy me. Thinking fast, I reached out and gently tugged at Bianca’s sleeve. “Miss Bianca, your fiancé is waiting for you in the private suite.” At the sound of my voice, Dean’s sharp gaze immediately whipped over to me. His eyes were intense, heavy with scrutiny and a quiet, probing curiosity. I didn’t dare meet his eyes. I kept my head bowed, staring at the polished floor, barely breathing. Then, he let out a cold, dry chuckle. “Excuse me.” He brushed past us, carrying a frigid aura that made it clear we were nothing more than a minor annoyance. He walked away as if he really had just been passing through. I watched his retreating figure, my heart hammering against my ribs. But before I could even draw a breath, a sharp sting exploded across my cheek. Bianca’s palm slammed into my face. “You useless bitch!” “Why did you bring up Wyatt in front of Dean? Are you blind? Couldn’t you tell I was trying to make a connection with him?” I cradled my throbbing, burning cheek. A sharp trickle of warmth told me one of the heavy crystals on Bianca’s manicured nails had sliced my skin. This pain was nothing new. Whenever Bianca was unhappy, her frustration was written on my skin. It had been this way since we were children. I took a deep breath, keeping my voice low and deferential. “I’m sorry, Miss Bianca. But you just got engaged to Wyatt. If rumors get out that you’re chasing Dean Elton, it could ruin your family’s reputation.” Bianca crossed her arms, her lip curling in disgust. “You idiot. If I could land Dean Elton, Wyatt Pendleton wouldn’t even be worth the dirt on my shoes.” She paused, studying me from head to toe with sudden, venomous suspicion. “Wait. You didn’t do that on purpose because you have a crush on him, did you?” “Let me warn you, Gwen. If you try to pull any pathetic little tricks behind my back, I will call the hospital and have them pull the plug on your mother’s ventilator by tonight.” A cold shiver ran down my spine. If Bianca ever discovered that I had been virtually dating Dean Elton right under her nose, my mother wouldn’t survive the week. I had only one path forward: I had to make Dean utterly loathe Bianca. I had to make her so repulsive to him that he wouldn’t even bear to look at her face. That night, sitting in the dark of my tiny room, I created a burner account on a messaging app. I typed in the phone number I knew by heart—Dean’s private number. I sent the friend request with just one word in the verification box: [Babe.] It was the pet name we used during our online romance. Simple, direct, and something he absolutely loved. Given how icy he had been at the lounge, I didn’t expect him to accept easily. But barely a second later, my phone vibrated. He was added to my friend list. He accepted! My heart leaped. I opened the chat box, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. After typing and erasing several drafts, I settled on a single, evocative line: [Babe, I haven’t stopped thinking about you.] If I was going to play the villain, the first step was to reel him back in with devotion. 2 I waited and waited, but the message remained unanswered, sinking into the digital void. I began to wonder if he had only accepted the request by accident. But before I could figure out a way to handle Dean, the next evening arrived—the night of the Caldwell family’s charity gala. As always, my role was to stand beside Bianca in the most plain, shapeless clothes imaginable. I was her contrast; my dowdiness made her shine brighter, and I was there to serve as her hands and feet. “Bianca, you brought your little stray dog again?” “Honestly, I’m so jealous. It’s impossible to find someone so obedient these days. The girl my dad hired for me is completely useless.” Bianca’s friends giggled, throwing superficial barbs at me right to my face, as if I were a piece of furniture rather than a human being. Bianca smiled warmly, basking in their praise. “Well, loyalty is something you have to train from a young age. You can’t just pick it up later.” The group erupted into quiet laughter. I kept my head lowered, pretending to be deaf and dumb. It was the only way to survive among these monsters. Finding his lack of reaction boring, they quickly drifted to a more exciting topic. “I heard Dean Elton is actually showing up tonight.” At those words, both Bianca’s eyes and mine flared with interest. “Really? Do any of you know him well? Introduce us!” Bianca said, her voice laced with desperate eagerness. Her friends shook their heads with sighs of disappointment. But out of their line of sight, I had already slipped my phone from my pocket and typed out a message to Dean: [Babe, are you coming to the gala tonight?] [It’s so wonderful that I’ll get to see you again.] [It’s my fault… I’m trapped by this family arrangement, unable to speak to you. I can only watch you from afar. Babe, I love you so much, but we have to pretend to be strangers. It’s breaking my heart.] This time, Dean replied almost instantly. But his words had none of their former warmth: [So, you want me to be your side piece?] My hand shook so violently I nearly dropped the phone. Before I could formulate a reply, gasps echoed from the grand entrance of the ballroom. “Dean is here.” He strolled in alongside a friend, wearing a relaxed, tailored suit, chatting casually with an easy, effortless air. Most of the room turned to watch him, but his eyes didn’t linger on anyone—until he approached our circle. His dark, piercing gaze landed directly on Bianca. Usually so arrogant and self-assured, she blushed instantly under his look. But a second later, Dean’s eyes shifted and locked onto me. The intense, probing look from the lounge was back, striking my chest like a physical blow. My heart hammered wildly. He and his friend soon headed up toward the private suites on the mezzanine, but that single look had already stirred up a storm. “Did you see that? Dean looked at me!” Bianca squealed, clutching her friend’s arm. “He definitely wants to get to know me.” But one of her friends smirked, casting a malicious glance in my direction. “Actually, Bianca, it looked like he was staring at Gwen for a solid few seconds.” Bianca’s smile vanished. She subtly reached out, digging her sharp, acrylic nails deep into the tender flesh of my upper arm. “Why weren’t you standing behind me like you were supposed to?” she hissed under her breath. “Do you honestly think a man like Dean Elton would ever look at a piece of garbage like you?” Wincing at the sharp pain, I forced my voice to remain even. “Miss Bianca, he definitely wasn’t looking at me because of that. Look at what I’m wearing. I stick out like a sore thumb. You all look beautiful. I look like a peasant. He was probably just confused by why someone dressed like this is even here. Please don’t misunderstand.” Bianca scrutinized my washed-out, oversized t-shirt and faded jeans. My face was bare of makeup, marred by the fake freckles and mock scars she forced me to wear to hide my features. I looked worse than the catering staff. Satisfied, she finally let go of my arm. “True. You look like a freak. It’s natural people would stare.” Ever since she found a love letter from a boy in my backpack back in high school, Bianca had forced me to make myself ugly. Even though she hadn’t cared about the boy, she couldn’t tolerate anyone preferring me over her. My arm was already beginning to bruise, but inside, a much darker storm was brewing. I pulled out my phone and sent a deliberately toxic reply to Dean: [Would that be so bad?] [Babe, you love me so much. Wouldn’t you be willing to be my secret for a little while?] [Don’t worry. Once I’m married, I’ll give you Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, and Sundays. He can have the rest. Deal?] Asking a proud, old-money heir to be a secret side piece was perhaps the greatest insult he could ever receive. I didn’t have wealth or power, but from my dark little corner, I could chew away at the foundations of Bianca’s life like a mouse gnawing on a support beam. I would take away everything she ever wanted. 3 When the gala ended, Bianca lingered by the grand foyer, clearly waiting for someone. Finally, when most of the guests had departed, the man she was waiting for descended the spiral staircase. Bianca’s eyes lit up, and she took an eager step forward. But before she could utter a single word, Dean uttered a single, frigid command: “Move.” He didn’t even grant her a glance. Bianca’s hand froze mid-air, her face flushing crimson as a wave of sheer humiliation washed over her. I kept my head bowed, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing aloud. The insult had clearly stung Dean to his core, and it was working perfectly. But this was only the beginning. Later that night, I visited the hospital to see my mother. She lay motionless on the bed, deep in a vegetative state, unable to hear my voice. But I clung to the belief that she would wake up one day. She just needed time. I had saved enough money. I was just waiting for the right moment to slip away from Bianca’s grasp forever. My thoughts were interrupted by the harsh ring of my phone. Bianca’s name flashed on the screen. “Where the hell are you?” she demanded. Hiding my hatred, I kept my voice soft. “I’m at the hospital.” “Ugh, why do you waste your time on that vegetable? The Caldwell family pays for her room anyway. Honestly, it’s pathetic.” She tossed out the cruel words so casually it made my stomach turn. If it weren’t for her obsession with perfection, my mother wouldn’t be in this bed. Bianca had forced my mother to climb onto a high window ledge in the blistering summer heat just to wipe away a microscopic smudge. She had threatened to fire her if it wasn’t spotless, leaving my mother out there for two hours until she fainted from heatstroke and fell. Bianca treated the medical bills like a generous act of charity, completely ignoring that she was the architect of our tragedy. My lips trembled with suppressed rage. Bianca continued, completely oblivious. “Tomorrow is Wyatt’s birthday. Go to the Norton Hotel first thing in the morning. Book their top penthouse suite and decorate it. I want to give him a surprise.” She hung up without waiting for my reply. She knew I would obey like a well-trained dog. But she forgot that even the gentlest dog will bite when backed into a corner. The next day, Bianca didn’t make me tag along for her date with Wyatt. But I watched them from the shadows. I watched them arrive at the hotel, kissing passionately outside the door before disappearing inside. Once the door clicked shut, I stepped out from the corner, placed a spare room key on the hallway floor, and took a photo. I messaged Dean: [Babe, I was only joking yesterday. How could I ever let you be a side piece?] [I’ve decided to fight my family. Even if I have to give up my inheritance, I want to be with you!] [But before I do, can we please see each other? Without you, I don’t think I have the courage to go through with this. Please. I love you.] The message went through. I knew he wouldn’t block me. During our online relationship, Dean had never been this cold or aloof. It’s only when someone is genuinely invested that they reveal their softest, most vulnerable sides. I was betting that Dean still cared. I retreated back into the shadow of the corridor, waiting to see if my gamble would pay off. Thirty minutes later, the quiet ding of the elevator echoed through the hall. Someone stepped out. 4 I watched him walk down the hall toward suite 1880. He picked up the keycard I had left on the floor, swiped it, and pushed the door open. Immediately, the muffled sounds of passion spilled into the quiet corridor. He stepped inside. A moment later, Bianca’s terrified shriek pierced the air. “Ah! Who are you?!” “Dean?!” Hearing those words, a dark, victorious smile spread across my face. My gamble had paid off flawlessly. Dean emerged from the room moments later, his face dark with fury, looking like a volcano on the verge of eruption. He strode toward the elevator, but just before entering, he cast a sharp look toward the corner where I was hiding. My heart stopped. I shrank back into the shadows. Fortunately, it was only a brief glance, and he stepped into the elevator and disappeared. By the time Bianca ran out into the hallway, wrapped in a plush hotel bathrobe, Dean was long gone. She bit her lip, panic coloring her voice. “Why on earth was Dean Elton here?” Wyatt followed her out, adjusting his shirt. He looked at her frantic expression and frowned. “What are you so freaked out about? You look like we just got caught cheating.” Bianca stiffened, quickly forced a smile, and wrapped her arms around Wyatt’s neck. “I’m just worried about making a bad impression. Doesn’t your family have a major business deal with the Eltons coming up? I was just thinking of our future.” Wyatt’s suspicion melted. He pulled her close. “I didn’t know you cared so much about my business. Don’t worry, Dean’s a guy. He’s seen plenty of this stuff. He won’t care.” He pulled her back into the room. Seeing Bianca’s submissive expression, I felt a wave of disgust, recalling how she had sneered at Wyatt in the lounge. The Caldwell family’s finances were failing, and they desperately needed this marriage. Wyatt was her lifeline, which was why she had shut down her digital roster to focus on him. But now, with Dean in the picture, her greed had taken over. Could she really balance on two ships at once? Dean’s ship had already sailed, and I was going to make sure Wyatt’s ship sank too. As I walked out of the hotel, my mind raced with plans to expose Bianca’s infidelity to Wyatt. Lost in thought, I crashed straight into a firm, warm chest. “I’m so sorry,” I stammered, looking up. I froze. It was Dean. He stepped back, looking down at a cigarette that had fallen from his hand to the floor, his brow furrowed in annoyance. I knew he was in a terrible mood, and crossing him now would be dangerous. “Mr. Elton, I am so, so sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going. What brand do you smoke? I’ll replace them right away.” Dean didn’t answer. He just stared down at me, his dark eyes deep and unreadable. I felt a chill run down my spine under his intense gaze. “Mr. Elton? Is that okay?” I whispered. His voice was low and cold when he finally spoke. “You’re Bianca’s shadow, aren’t you?” I swallowed hard and nodded. “Yes.” “And you want to make it up to me?” “Yes. If you don’t want cigarettes, I can do anything else.” A slow, dangerous smirk spread across Dean’s lips. “Anything?” He tilted his head toward the upper floors of the hotel. “Your boss just humiliated me by pretending to be my girl. If you help me ruin her, we’ll call it even. Can you do that?”

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It was the Labor Day weekend rush when my car got rear-ended just before the toll plaza. When I went to the police precinct on Monday to sort out the paperwork, the entitled jerk who hit me didn’t even bother to apologize. Instead, he whistled at the Porsche crest on my steering wheel. “Hey, gorgeous. Sugar daddy buy this for you? Give me your number. I’ll cover the repairs, and maybe we can grab dinner tonight. My treat.” He reached out, his fingers brushing toward my cheek, but before he could touch me, a large, calloused hand clamped around his wrist like a vice. With a sharp click, a pair of silver handcuffs slammed onto the metal desk. Lieutenant Willie, sharp in his tailored dress blues, stared him down with a gaze that could freeze water. “Hit-and-run coupled with sexual harassment. You can have your dinner in a holding cell.” The guy’s knees practically buckled. Willie turned to me. When he spoke, his voice softened, carrying an almost pleading tone. “Are you okay? Did he scare you? Wait until my shift ends—I’ll drive you home.” The nearby officers stared, their jaws practically dropping. After all, Lieutenant Willie was famously cold, a man who kept everyone at arm’s length. I pulled a wet wipe from my bag, meticulously cleaning the sleeve where the man’s fingers had brushed against my coat. I didn’t even look up. “Thank you, Lieutenant, but my husband is already on his way to pick me up.” Willie’s face went entirely bloodless. I suppose he’d forgotten. Three years ago, he was the one who pushed me down a flight of stairs, causing the miscarriage that ended our baby’s life, before telling me to get the hell out of his. 1 The air in the precinct lobby seemed to freeze solid. Willie’s towering frame went rigid. He stared at my hands as I wiped my sleeve, his chest rising and falling in shallow, erratic breaths. “Paula. What did you just say?” I tossed the used wipe into the nearby trash can. “You’re too young to be losing your hearing, Lieutenant.” I finally met his eyes, my gaze perfectly flat. “I said, my husband is on his way.” His hands clenched into fists at his sides, the veins tracing hard, angry lines over his knuckles. He took a step toward me, reaching out. “Paula, stop this. Please.” His voice was a tight whisper. “I know you’re still angry about what happened three years ago. But making up a marriage just to hurt me? It’s childish.” I took a step back, effortlessly slipping out of his reach. The sheer arrogance of him—believing with absolute certainty that I was still desperately in love with him—turned my stomach. Three years apart, and his ego hadn’t shrunk an inch. Before I could tell him exactly where to go, a soft, delicate voice drifted from around the corner. “Willie, honey, I warmed up your tea for your stomach.” Una stepped into the lobby, holding a stainless steel thermos. She was wearing an oversized police patrol jacket over her shoulders—Willie’s jacket, obviously—which made her look impossibly small and fragile. When she saw me, her steps faltered. A flicker of genuine panic crossed her eyes, but it was quickly replaced by a thin, triumphant smile. “Paula? Oh my gosh, what are you doing here?” She hurried over to Willie, her hand wrapping naturally, possessively around his forearm. “It’s been three years. How have you been?” I stared coldly at her hand on his sleeve. Three years ago, those same hands had clutched at Willie’s collar, painting her as the ultimate victim. And because she looked so helpless, Willie had lost his mind. With bloodshot eyes, he had shoved me backward. We were in our second year of marriage. I was three months pregnant. As the warm, terrifying rush of blood ran down my legs, he was already lifting a “fainting” Una into his arms, racing toward the ambulance without looking back. The woman named Paula died on that cold hardwood floor that night. “I’m here to file an accident report,” I said, my voice empty of any feeling. “It has nothing to do with either of you.” Una glanced out the window at the gleaming black Porsche parked in the precinct lot. She gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “Oh, wow. A Porsche. Paula, you used to save up for months just to buy a nice handbag. What kind of job did you get after you and Willie split? How can you afford something like that now?” She blinked her wide, innocent eyes, but her voice was pitched perfectly to carry across the quiet lobby. The desk officers began whispering among themselves, their glances shifting from me to each other. Even Brad—the guy who had rear-ended me—smirked, sensing a vulnerability he could exploit. “Told you so,” Brad sneered. “A girl that young driving a hundred-thousand-dollar car? Definitely riding some old guy’s wallet.” Willie snapped his head toward him, his eyes murderous. “Say one more word, and I’ll make sure you spend the next five years in county jail.” Brad shrunk back, instantly silencing himself. Willie turned back to me, his brow heavily furrowed. He took in my tailored silk dress, then looked out at the luxury car. “Paula, what have you been doing with your life these past three years?” His voice was thick with a self-righteous sort of grief. “You used to have so much pride. Why are you throwing your dignity away just to spite me?” A bitter laugh escaped my throat. I pulled the police report from my clutch. “My money is clean, Willie. If your mind is too filthy to imagine a woman earning her own living, I suggest you get professional help.” I turned to take the paperwork to the claims desk, but Una suddenly let go of Willie’s arm and blocked my path. Her eyes were already rimmed with red, tears spilling down her cheeks on cue. “Paula, please don’t be mad at Willie. He’s just worried about you. What happened back then… it was my fault. I shouldn’t have let my heart condition get in the way. If you still hate me, you can hit me, you can scream at me. But please, don’t ruin your life with some old married man just to get back at him.” She sobbed softly, putting on a masterful performance of a concerned sister trying to save a fallen woman. The murmurs in the lobby grew louder. The stares felt like a hundred tiny, poison-tipped needles pricking at my back. 2 I watched her performance with an empty expression. She had perfected this routine years ago. Back then, all it took was a single tear for Willie to abandon all logic and take her side. I raised my hand, intending to push past her shoulder. But Willie was already moving. He lunged forward, throwing his arm in front of Una, shielding her from me. “Paula, what are you doing?” he barked, his eyes filled with defensive hostility. “Una has a congenital heart defect. She can’t handle stress. You already hurt her once—are you trying to repeat what happened three years ago?” Looking at his fierce, protective stance, a cold wave of absurdity washed over me. Three years ago. Una had come to our apartment while Willie was on shift, smirking, telling me how he had spent the previous night holding her hand at the hospital. I did nothing but tell her to get out. She had immediately collapsed onto the hardwood floor, clutching her chest, pretending to gasp for air. When Willie burst through the door, he didn’t even look at me. He just shoved me out of his way to get to her. I went flying backward, tumbling down the steep wooden steps. He never gave me a chance to explain. He had already pronounced me guilty. “Willie, if you aren’t using your eyes, you should donate them,” I said, staring at his protective huddle. “I didn’t even touch her. What are you screaming for?” Una shrank behind his back, her fingers clutching the hem of his uniform. “Willie, don’t blame Paula. She was just moving her hand. My heart is fine… please don’t fight with her because of me.” Her soft-spoken act made me look like an unhinged harpy. Willie’s expression softened as he spoke to her, but when he turned back to me, his face hardened with deep disappointment. “You’ve changed, Paula. You used to be stubborn, but you were never this cruel. Look at you now—dripping in designer clothes, bitter, cold. Where is the girl I fell in love with?” He was trying to use his moral high ground to crush me. I didn’t even want to argue. I moved to walk around them. At that moment, the glass doors of the precinct burst open. A heavy-set woman in her mid-fifties stormed in like a heat-seeking missile. It was Brad’s mother. The moment she saw Brad standing by the desk, she rushed over, wailing and clutching his face. Brad, seeing his backup arrive, immediately pointed a finger at me. “Ma, that’s her. The bitch in the Porsche. She’s demanding I pay for everything, and she’s got this cop trying to lock me up.” The woman spun around, her eyes locking onto me with pure venom. She marched over, thrusting a manicured finger directly in my face. “You’re the little home-wrecker bullying my son? You think because you drive a Porsche you’re special? God knows how many men you had to sleep with to buy that car! Drop the charges right now, or I’ll tear that fake face of yours off!” She lunged at me, clawing. I stepped back quickly, her nails narrowly missing my cheek. Two desk officers rushed forward to pull her back. The lobby dissolved into chaos. I was backed into the corner near a filing cabinet, my jaw clenched. Willie stepped between me and the shouting woman. “Ma’am, watch your language. This is a police station, not a circus.” His voice was firm, finally displaying a sliver of his authority. But the woman didn’t care. Seeing his uniform, she threw herself onto the floor and began to wail. “Police brutality! The cops are taking the side of a high-class whore over tax-paying citizens!” Her shrieks echoed off the tiled walls. Una, seeing her cue, suddenly clutched her chest, leaning heavily against the drywall. “Willie… my chest. It hurts… I can’t breathe…” Instantly, Willie’s attention snapped away from the screaming woman. He grabbed Una by the shoulders, panic written all over his face. “Una? Do you have your inhaler? Your pills?” Una shook her head weakly, looking at the crying mother and son with watery eyes. “Willie, they look so desperate. Paula has so much money… the repair bill is nothing to her. Why is she doing this to them? Why is she ruining their lives?” Though her voice was weak, it carried clearly across the room. The mother on the floor picked up on it instantly. “See? Even the officer’s family knows what’s right!” Willie looked from a distressed Una to me, trapped in the corner. He let out a long, heavy sigh and walked over to me. “Paula, please. Just apologize to them and drop the claim. Una needs a quiet environment. If this keeps up, she’s going to have an attack.” 3 I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Willie wanted me to apologize to a man who had hit my car and sexually harassed me? All so his darling, fragile “little sister” could have a quiet room to recover in? I stared at him, feeling a wave of physical nausea. “Willie, are you out of your mind?” My voice shook, but I kept it sharp. “I’m the one who got hit. I’m the one who was harassed. I’m the one being screamed at by his mother. And you, a police officer, are telling me to apologize to the people who did this?” My knuckles turned white as I gripped my bag. Willie’s frown deepened. He stepped closer, dropping his voice so only I could hear. “Paula, I know you’ve been wronged here. But these people are trash. If you keep fighting them, you’re the one who’ll end up looking bad. I’ll write you a personal check for the repairs. Just let it go, okay? Stop making a scene.” That condescending tone—like he was doing me a favor—was the final match thrown onto a lifetime of dry tinder. He had always been like this. Every time Una targeted me, he would tell me to take the high road, to be the bigger person. Because I was his wife, I was expected to swallow every insult to feed his savior complex. “Keep your charity to yourself,” I said, shoving his reaching hand away. “They are paying for every cent of damage. And I’m not apologizing to anyone.” I turned to leave. The air in this room felt toxic. But as I went to pass Una, her knees buckled again. She went limp, falling directly toward me. I tried to dodge, but her hands clamped onto my purse strap with surprising, desperate strength. With a loud rip, my bag was torn from my grip and crashed to the floor. Lipsticks, keys, and a deep blue velvet box spilled across the linoleum. The brass latch on the box popped open. A flawless pink diamond ring rolled out, catching the harsh fluorescent lights of the precinct. Gideon had bought it at a private auction in London. It was one of a kind. Una hit the floor hard, landing directly on top of my things. “Ow!” she squealed, scrambling to sit up. As she scrambled, the sharp metal heel of her boot ground directly into the face of the pink diamond. The sound of metal scratching stone made my heart stop. I pushed her aside with a force I didn’t know I possessed, dropping to my knees. I scooped up the ring. The once-perfect, brilliant surface of the diamond now had a jagged, deep scratch running across the face, and the platinum band was slightly warped. Gideon had placed this on my finger. I rarely wore it, terrified of losing it. I had only tucked it safely into my bag today because of the accident. My hands shook as I squeezed it in my palm. I stood up, staring down at Una. Sensing the sheer rage in my eyes, Una shrank back, tears streaming down her face. “Paula, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to, I just got dizzy… please don’t look at me like you want to kill me. You’re scaring me.” Willie immediately stepped in front of her, pulling her into his arms. He looked at the warped ring in my hand, a flicker of shock crossing his eyes. Even a novice could tell that stone was worth a fortune. But he quickly masked it, pulling his wallet out and slamming a black credit card onto the desk. “It’s just a ring, Paula. Una apologized. Are you going to keep badgering her until she collapses? There’s fifty grand on this card. Go buy yourself a better one.” The absolute arrogance of his gesture felt like a blunt knife sawing at my chest. I looked at the card on the table and let out a cold laugh. “You think your petty cash can fix this, Willie? You couldn’t afford this ring in ten lifetimes.” I pulled out my phone and dialed Gideon’s private number. It rang twice before he picked up. His deep, velvet voice filled my ear, instantly soothing. “Hey, sweetheart. Are you finished?” “Gideon,” I said, my voice cracking despite my best efforts. “Someone broke my wedding ring. And they’re telling me it doesn’t matter.” The line went dead silent for a beat. Then, I heard a cold, quiet chuckle that made my spine tingle. “Stay right where you are,” Gideon said. “I’d like to see who in Chicago thinks they can touch my wife’s things and get away with it.” 4 I hung up the phone. Carefully placing the damaged pink diamond back into the velvet box, I slipped it into my coat pocket. Willie watched the soft, familiar tone I had used with Gideon, his face turning an ugly shade of gray. A bitter, mocking laugh escaped his lips as he took a step toward me. “Paula. Are you seriously playing make-believe now? You hired some actor to pretend to be your husband just to get a rise out of me?” He reached out, trying to grab the box from my pocket. I was ready. I slapped his hand away, stepping back. “Don’t touch me with your filthy hands.” Una watched this from the floor, a tiny spark of excitement dancing in her eyes. She scrambled up and grabbed Willie’s sleeve, her voice dripping with artificial sympathy. “Willie, please don’t be mad at Paula. Maybe she… maybe she really hit hard times after the divorce. That’s why she’s doing this… selling herself to some old businessman. Don’t you have friends in the Vice division? Maybe they can help her get out of that life.” Every word was designed to paint me as a high-class call girl. Brad’s mother joined in instantly, barking a laugh. “I knew it! A cheap streetwalker. Officer, you should lock her up for soliciting! She’s a public nuisance!” Willie’s face was dark. He stared at me, a dangerous mix of possessiveness and jealousy burning in his eyes. “Paula, you’re coming with me.” He grabbed my wrist. His grip was so tight my bones practically clicked under the pressure. “We are going somewhere quiet, and you are going to tell me exactly what you’ve been doing these past three years. If you need money, I’ll give it to you. Just stop humiliating yourself in public.” He began dragging me toward the exit. The sheer, arrogant force of it was exactly like three years ago, when he had tried to force me onto my knees to apologize to Una. I struggled, my heels screeching against the polished tile floor. “Let go of me, Willie! My husband is coming! This is kidnapping!” I grabbed the doorframe with my free hand, the wood scraping under my nails. But Willie didn’t care. He was entirely trapped in his own delusions, convinced I had ruined my life just to hurt him. “You’re getting in the car, Paula.” He dragged me out into the gravel parking lot. But just as he opened the door of his unmarked Ford patrol sedan, a deafening engine roar shattered the afternoon quiet. A sleek, custom black Rolls-Royce Phantom tore into the precinct lot. The driver swung the massive car around, the tires screaming and kicking up a cloud of grey dust and white smoke. The Rolls-Royce came to a halt inches from Willie’s patrol car, completely blocking him in. The desk officers and half the people in the lobby ran outside to see what was happening. The heavy rear door of the Rolls-Royce clicked open. A pair of immaculate, hand-crafted leather shoes stepped onto the gravel. Gideon stepped out of the car. He was wearing a charcoal, bespoke three-piece suit that clung perfectly to his broad shoulders. He was tall, striking, with sharp features and a quiet, terrifying gravity that only came from holding immense power. The midday sun caught the hard lines of his jaw. Gideon Blackstone. The undisputed king of Chicago’s financial elite. His dark, piercing eyes swept over the crowd and locked onto Willie’s hand, which was still gripping my bruised wrist. The temperature in the parking lot seemed to drop thirty degrees. Gideon walked toward us, his strides slow, deliberate, and heavy. With every step he took, the air grew tighter. Willie froze, seemingly paralyzed by the raw, dangerous aura radiating from the man. His grip on my wrist loosened slightly. Gideon stopped directly in front of us, looking down at Willie like he was looking at dust on his shoe. He parted his lips, his voice a low, lethal rumble that echoed across the concrete lot: “Let go of my wife.”

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On my wedding day, my fiancé slid the diamond ring meant for me onto my sister’s finger right in front of my eyes. I stood there, frozen, watching Toby cup Daphne’s face and press a tender kiss to her lips. My mind went completely blank. Before I could even process the sight, Toby took Daphne by the hand and walked out of the bridal boutique. “Stop!” I lunged forward to chase after them, but my parents stepped in, blocking my path like a wall of cold stone. My father’s voice was devoid of warmth. “Toby’s heart has always belonged to Daphne.” My mother sniffed, her eyes scanning me with disdain. “You’ve barely been back with the Clifford family, and already you’re trying to steal your sister’s man?” I stared at them, the shock hollow out my chest. “Mom, Dad… I’m the one who’s engaged to Toby. I’m his fiancée.” “You flatter yourself,” my father countered coldly. “Only a true daughter of the Clifford bloodline is fit for a Dwight. Daphne is the only one who belongs with Toby.” A bitter laugh escaped me. “Are you saying I’m a fake?” “Daphne grew up under our roof, in our warmth,” my mother said, her chin tilting up. “The bond we share with her isn’t something that can be replaced by twenty years of you drifting out there in the world like a stray. You had better behave yourself. No tears, no scenes. The prestige of the Clifford name was given to you by us, and we can strip it away just as easily.” The silence stretched between us. Slowly, the tension left my shoulders. I smiled, letting the corners of my mouth curl upward. “Fine. Then I hope they grow old together and rot.” … I pulled off the tulle veil with an indifferent flick of my wrist and tossed it into the stainless-steel trash can beside the mirror. The boutique manager’s face twitched. She cleared her throat, her voice tight with anxiety. “Miss Clifford… that veil is a custom piece. It’s highly expensive…” “Bill them,” I said, pointing a lazy finger toward my parents. Perhaps pricked by a tiny, lingering shred of guilt, neither of them argued. My father simply gestured for the manager to put it on their corporate account. Stepping out of the air-conditioned boutique into the humid city air, I raised a hand to hail a cab. My father’s heavy footsteps sounded behind me. “We know this is hard for you, Flora. But it’s the reality of things. Even if you don’t want to accept it, you have to.” “Exactly,” my mother chimed in, catching up. “You probably think we’re just favoring Daphne, but the truth is, Toby never loved you in the first place.” I turned my head, looking at them through narrowed eyes. “No need to explain. And please, don’t waste your breath comforting me. I accept the outcome. I really don’t care.” They had expected a breakdown. They had expected me to scream, to tear at my dress, to lose my mind over the betrayal of my sister and my fiancé. They never could have anticipated this hollow, chilling silence. What they didn’t know was that I had lived this life once before. And more importantly… I didn’t even belong to this world. In my previous life, my soul had been inexplicably pulled into this parallel universe. I had woken up bewildered, only to be “found” and reclaimed by the wealthy Clifford family as their long-lost eldest daughter. But it was a trap. Under Daphne’s meticulous, cruel machinations, I had been tormented, isolated, and eventually driven to a painful death. That death, however, had triggered something unexpected: a “Vengeance System.” The system didn’t just bring me back to life; it gave me a mission. And this time, I had a cosmic shield. My parents stood on the sidewalk, staring blankly as I slid into the back of a black sedan and drove away. I gave the driver the address to my apartment, but the car didn’t head toward the city center. Instead, the streets grew narrower, the buildings sparser, until we were speeding toward a sprawling, half-abandoned construction site on the desolate outskirts of town. Looking out at the skeletal concrete structures overgrown with weeds, I didn’t panic. I merely frowned, meeting the driver’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “Why did you bring me here?” The driver let out a harsh laugh. “Miss Daphne’s orders. You’re taking a little vacation for the next week. Hand over your phone, Miss Clifford, and let’s make this easy. No need to get hurt.” I didn’t argue. I nodded, pulling my phone from my pocket and placing it in his outstretched hand. He had me step out of the car, then used a thick nylon rope to bind my hands and feet. I remained perfectly still, offering no resistance. Once I was secured against a concrete pillar, he dialed a number. “It’s done,” he said into the receiver. “She’s secure. Under complete control.” After hanging up, the driver hauled a large cardboard box out of his trunk. It was packed with instant noodles, bottled water, and canned goods—provisions meant to last. “I’ve got water and food here. If you get hungry, let me know,” he said, his voice dropping into a flatter, more professional tone. He dragged a folding chair over to the entrance of the unfinished room, sitting down to keep watch. For a long time, we simply stared at each other. Perhaps unnerved by my absolute calm, the driver shifted uncomfortably, looking away. “Look, Miss Clifford, as long as you cooperate and stay quiet this week, I won’t lay a finger on you. I promise.” “Thank you,” I replied softly. There was no anger in my voice, no trembling fear. I actually sounded grateful. The driver blinked, completely thrown off. “Your name is Frank Dolan, right? Your daughter is very sweet,” I said. Frank’s entire body went rigid. He snapped his head back toward me, his eyes wide and wild. “I met her once,” I continued, my voice steady, carrying softly through the empty concrete hall. “We talked for a bit. She told me her dad was the greatest man in the whole world. It’s a shame. She doesn’t know her hero is actually a kidnapper.” Frank scrambled out of his chair, lunging toward me until he was hovering inches from my face. “When did you see my daughter?” “Her name is Gracie, isn’t it?” “You…” Frank’s face drained of color. If he had any doubts before, the mention of her name shattered them. He knew I wasn’t bluffing. I really knew his little girl. “I know about her medical bills, Frank. I know you’re doing this dirty work for Daphne because you need the cash for her surgery. But have you thought about what happens when she gets better? What happens when she grows up and realizes her life was bought with the blood money that sent her father to a federal penitentiary?” My voice softened, dripping with quiet pity. “How is she supposed to live with that? She’ll carry that guilt like a stone in her chest. It’ll drive her mad.” “Stop it!” Frank roared, his voice cracking. “Enough! Don’t talk about her!” He slammed his hands over his ears, pacing back and forth, his face twisted in an agonizing struggle between desperation and morality. “I know it’s wrong!” he screamed at the empty walls. “But what choice do I have? I can’t just sit by and watch my little girl die in a hospital bed! Even if she hates me for being a criminal, even if she never wants to look at me again—if she’s alive, it’s worth it!” With a ragged breath, Frank turned and bolted out of the building, unable to bear the weight of my gaze. But less than ten minutes later, his footsteps echoed back into the concrete shell. He stood before me, his eyes bloodshot, his fists shaking. “You win, Flora. I can’t do this. I won’t let my daughter spend her life ashamed of me. I won’t let her be the girl whose father is in prison.” He knelt down, slicing through the nylon ropes with a pocketknife, then gestured toward his car. “Get in. I’m taking you back to the city. If you want to call the police, do it now.” He pulled my phone from his pocket and pressed it into my hand. I looked at his pale, trembling hands, then quietly slid the phone into my pocket. Frank stared at me, bewildered. “Miss Clifford… you’re not calling the cops?” “No need.” I paused, looking him dead in the eye. “You realized your mistake. I’m willing to give you a chance to make it right.” Frank’s brows furrowed. He wasn’t stupid; he knew mercy in this world always came with a price. “What do you want me to do?” I smiled. “Come with me to the wedding. Tell everyone exactly what Daphne made you do.” Frank immediately shook his head, stepping back. “No. Absolutely not.” “Why?” “Miss Daphne has been incredibly generous to my family,” Frank explained, his voice thick with conflicted loyalty. “She paid for Gracie’s first surgery out of her own pocket. I’ve already failed her by letting you go, and I feel sick about it. I can’t go on a stage and publicly destroy her. I just can’t. I’ll drive you back to the city center, but after that, I’m out.” He turned toward the driver’s side door, but before his hand could touch the handle, the roar of multiple engines shattered the quiet of the wasteland. Three dark SUVs tore through the dirt, kicking up clouds of yellow dust as they swerved to box Frank’s car in. The doors flew open, and a dozen rough-looking men armed with heavy metal pipes stepped out. The lead thug, a brute with a scarred jaw, dragged Frank and me out into the open. “Who the hell are you guys?” Frank gasped, clutching his bruised arm. Before the leader could answer, I looked at the pipes in their hands and whispered, “They’re Daphne’s cleanup crew. They’re here to make sure neither of us speaks again.” The leader chuckled, a cold, dry sound. “Well, aren’t you a clever girl, Miss Clifford?” He stepped closer, his boots crunching on the gravel. “But you know what they say about clever girls. They don’t live very long.” Frank’s eyes went wide. “No… Miss Daphne wouldn’t do this. She wouldn’t order a hit!” “Are you really that naive, Frank?” the leader sneered. “Miss Daphne knew you were soft. She knew a guy like you, acting out of desperate love for his kid, would eventually fold. That’s why she kept us on standby. Just in case you messed up.” Without another word, the leader raised a hand and gave a sharp, downward flick of his wrist. His eyes gleamed with a chilling finality. “Make it clean. No witnesses.” The thugs lunged forward. Frank reacted instantly. “Get in the car and lock the doors!” he screamed, throwing himself into the path of the nearest man. He fought like a wild animal, driven by pure survival instinct, but he was outnumbered and outmatched. Within seconds, a pipe caught him across the ribs, and he went down, coughing up dark blood as the boots kept coming. The leader turned his attention to me, walking with slow, deliberate steps. “Miss Clifford,” he sighed mockingly. “You spent twenty years living in the gutter. Why did you have to come back and try to take what belongs to Miss Daphne? You got nothing out of it. And now you’re going to lose your life. It’s almost tragic.” He reached out, his thick, dirty fingers aiming for my throat. But I didn’t back down. My arm, which had been hidden behind my back, swung forward with everything I had. Crack. The jagged, heavy concrete stone I had scooped up from the ground smashed squarely into his temple. He hadn’t expected me to fight. He certainly hadn’t expected a girl in a wedding dress to strike with lethal, calculated precision. With a sickening groan, his eyes rolled back, and his massive body crumpled to the dirt. A thick, crimson stream began to pool rapidly from the gash on his head. I didn’t hesitate. I dropped to my knees, grabbed him by the collar, and pulled his upper body up, holding the sharp, blood-smeared stone directly over his eye. “Tell them to stop!” I yelled. But the leader’s head lolled to the side. He was completely unconscious. The other thugs were still brutally kicking Frank. Seeing that their boss couldn’t call them off, I realized I had to handle this the hard way. I stood up, gripping the bloody stone, and threw myself into the fray like a woman possessed. I didn’t care about form or safety. I fought with the frantic, terrifying energy of someone who had already tasted death once. I lunged at the nearest man, smashing the stone into his face, then swung wildly at another who tried to grab my arm. After three of them fell to the ground, howling in agony as blood splattered across the dirt, the remaining men stopped. They took a collective step back, their eyes wide with sudden, gripping terror. “You’re just getting paid for this,” I panted, my voice low and trembling with adrenaline. “Is it worth your lives? Step forward. Try me. I will paint this concrete with your brains.” My once-white wedding dress was now ruined, stained with dirt and splattered with dark, fresh blood. Combined with the manic fire in my eyes, I looked less like a victim and more like a specter of vengeance. Without their leader to guide them, and facing a girl who looked ready to tear them apart with her bare hands, the remaining thugs hesitated. After a tense, breathless silence, they scrambled to drag their bleeding comrades and unconscious boss back into the SUVs. The engines roared to life, and they sped away, leaving a trail of dust in their wake. The moment they were gone, Frank collapsed onto the dirt, clutching his chest and gasping for air. I dropped the stone and ran to help him up, hauling him toward the passenger seat of his car. “Hang on. I’m getting you to an emergency room.” Frank shook his head weakly, spitting blood onto the dashboard. “No… no hospital. Take me to the Dwight Hotel. Take me… to the wedding.” I paused, my hand hovering over the gear shift. “Are you sure you can make it?” “I have to,” he wheezed, his eyes burning with a desperate, fatherly rage. “Just drive.” As the car tore down the highway toward the city, Frank leaned his head back against the headrest and began to speak. He told me a secret. A secret that I had never known, not even in my previous life. When we finally pulled up to the glittering five-star hotel, I helped Frank out of the car. He was coughing violently, the metallic scent of blood heavy in the air. “Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked, my brow furrowing as I looked at his pale, sweat-slicked face. “I’m fine,” he muttered, gritting his teeth. I didn’t waste any more time. Supporting his weight, I guided him through the polished glass doors of the lobby. The guests and hotel staff we passed froze, their conversations dying instantly as they stared at the two blood-drenched figures marching toward the elevators. We rode the elevator up to the 18th floor, where the grand ballroom was located. Through the double doors, I could hear the muffled sound of music and laughter. Toby and Daphne’s wedding was in full swing. As we approached, two security guards stepped forward to block us. “You can’t go in there without an invitation—” “This is my wedding!” I snapped, my voice cutting through the corridor. “Get out of my way.” I shoved past them, throwing the heavy oak doors open. My voice wasn’t exceptionally loud, but the sheer sight of me caused a ripple of silence to cascade through the room. One by one, heads turned. And just like that, the girl in the bloody wedding gown became the absolute, undeniable center of attention.

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My daughter was dead set on marrying a broke man twelve years older than her. Not only was he drowning in debt from online loans, he also came with a deadweight son suffering from kidney failure. I froze her accounts to force the breakup. She went on a hunger strike in protest, then ran away from home. Half a month later, the man showed up at my door with my frail daughter in tow, demanding compensation like he was owed it: “Ma’am, Vivi has already donated one of her kidneys to little Benny behind your back — her way of proving she’d treat him like her own son.” “All I’m asking is that you transfer your downtown penthouse to Benny for his recovery, and give me ten million to start a business. Do that, and I’ll consider letting Vivi officially join the Lancaster family.” I looked at my daughter standing beside him — hand pressed to her surgical wound, wearing a dreamy, lovesick smile as she nodded along. That was the moment I gave up completely. “Fine,” I said. “As long as you’re both happy.”

The VIP suite of a high-end private hospital reeked of antiseptic. Derek Lancaster was sprawled across a leather armchair, one leg crossed over the other, cradling a cup of premium tea that my well-paid private nurse had just brewed for him. My daughter, Vivian — Vivi — lay in the hospital bed, barely able to move. She’d just undergone surgery to have a kidney removed. Her face was as white as the sheets beneath her. Yet the way she looked at Derek — soft, syrupy, completely devoted — you’d think she’d just saved the entire human race. Beside the bed, Derek’s eight-year-old son Benny was using Vivi’s limited-edition Chanel handbag as a soccer ball, kicking it across the marble floor. The metal hardware cracked against the stone with a sound that set my teeth on edge. A bag worth tens of thousands of dollars, destroyed in minutes. I stood at the foot of the bed, staring at this absurd little family of three. I reached into my Hermès bag and pulled out a bank card I’d prepared in advance. I set it on the nightstand. Cold. Deliberate. “That’s one million dollars.” “Take the money, take your son, and disappear from my daughter’s life forever.” Derek paused mid-sip. Before he could say a word, Benny dropped the bag, charged across the room like a tiny bull, snatched the glass of water off the nightstand, and hurled it to the floor. Shards of glass skittered across the tile and landed on my heels. “You mean old witch! You can’t make my dad leave!” “New Mommy said she gave me her kidney! That means she’s my real mom now, and all her money is mine! Get out!” Derek didn’t scold his son. He set down his teacup with quiet, practiced ease, stepped in front of the boy, and arranged his face into an expression of wounded dignity. “Ms. Sullivan, I know you’re the CEO of a publicly traded company. I know you look down on someone like me — a man who’s had to fight for everything from the bottom up.” “But Vivi and I love each other. Genuinely. Throwing a million dollars at us to ‘buy us off’ — that’s not just insulting. That’s cruel.” “Mom! What is wrong with you!” Vivi’s eyes flooded with tears. She pressed a hand to her surgical site and struggled to push herself upright, her face twisted with accusation. “Derek quit his sales job to be here with me every single day. He hasn’t left my side once. How dare you humiliate him like this!” I looked at this girl. My daughter. The one I’d carried for nine months, raised in luxury, given everything she ever wanted. The blood drained from my face, and a cold, hollow grief spread through my chest. “I’m humiliating him?” “He’s a thirty-five-year-old unemployed man with hundreds of thousands in debt. He’s been draining your bank account from the moment you met. And I can’t pay him to go away?” “Ms. Sullivan, I’m going to stop you right there.” Derek straightened up. A flash of pure, unmasked arrogance crossed his eyes. The corner of his mouth curled. “I may be going through some financial difficulties. But I give Vivi something money can’t buy — emotional connection. I understand her. I cherish her.” “And Vivi has already proven that her love for me is worth a thousand times more than whatever’s sitting in your accounts.” He paused for effect, then looked directly at me. “To prove she would treat Benny as her own — no favoritism, no hesitation — Vivi signed the consent forms last week without telling you.” “She donated one of her kidneys to Benny.” The room tilted. A living donor surgery. The kind that causes permanent, irreversible damage to a healthy body. I lunged forward and grabbed the front of Vivi’s hospital gown, my hands shaking. “Vivian! Is that true? Have you completely lost your mind?!” She flinched. But then she turned and caught Derek’s warm, approving gaze — and just like that, she squared her shoulders like she was ready for a fight.

“Mom, stop being so dramatic.” Vivi shoved my hand away and lifted her chin. “Benny grew up without a mother. He has kidney disease. Do you have any idea how much that little boy has been through? He needs to feel safe.” “If I didn’t show him — really show him — that I’m serious about being his mom, why would he ever believe me?” “Besides, people have two kidneys for a reason. Losing one doesn’t kill you. I traded one organ I didn’t need for the future happiness of our family. That’s not crazy. That’s a great deal.” Those words hit me like a blade between the ribs. Derek smiled — the smile of a man handing out favors. “Ms. Sullivan, what Vivi did was impulsive, I’ll give you that. But it also proves she’s an extraordinary stepmother. Rare, honestly.” “Here’s what I’m proposing. Sign over your downtown penthouse to Benny — he’ll need a comfortable place to recover. And transfer controlling shares in one of your subsidiaries to me as startup capital.” “I promise you, once I get back on my feet — and I will — I’ll give Vivi a real wedding. She’ll become Mrs. Lancaster. Properly. With everything she deserves.” He wanted my apartment. He wanted a piece of my company. And in exchange, he’d graciously allow my daughter the privilege of taking his last name. My insides were burning. My hands were shaking. Before I could say a word, Vivi grabbed Derek’s arm with both hands, her eyes shining like she’d just heard a marriage proposal in a movie. “Derek, don’t beg her.” “As long as I have you and Benny, that’s everything. I’d give up anything for you both. I have no regrets. None.” No regrets. Those two words dropped into me like ice water, spreading through every vein until I was numb from the inside out. And in that moment, the last thread of maternal love I’d been holding onto — the thing that had kept me from walking away — simply snapped. I took a slow breath. Swallowed everything I wanted to say. “Alright.” I stood straight. I looked at both of them. My face gave nothing away. “If this is what makes you happy, then I have nothing more to say.” I turned and walked out of the room without looking back.

The hallway was empty. Nothing but the clean click of my heels on polished tile. I leaned against the wall beside the elevator and felt every ounce of strength leave my body at once. I slid down until I was sitting on the floor. I’m forty-six years old. Twenty-two years ago, my husband died in a car accident. I buried my grief and rebuilt everything by myself — fought through boardrooms and hostile takeovers and years of being underestimated — until I had a company worth billions. All that time, I never once raised my hand or my voice at Vivi. I spoiled her. I admit it. Whatever designer bag she wanted, I bought it. Whatever country she wanted to visit, I chartered the flight. When she decided she wanted to try acting, I funded the production and got her on set. And this is what I raised. A girl so thoroughly fooled by a man that she carved out her own organ to prove her love. I thought back to the night Vivi first brought Derek home — six months ago. He showed up in a cheap suit and spent the entire dinner holding court. “Vivi is pure. Untouched by the corruption of money. I don’t want that world to get its hands on her.” “Real love means stripping away all the materialism. Even if you’re sharing instant noodles in a studio apartment, if you’re together, it’s enough.” “A woman’s greatest achievement isn’t her career or her net worth. It’s standing beside a man who loves her and building a home.” Toxic nonsense. Every word of it. Vivi had listened with tears running down her face. She told me afterward that I was the problem — too obsessed with work, too consumed by money, too cold to understand what love actually felt like. When I dug into Derek’s background and found the debt and the manipulation and the pattern, I cut off Vivi’s accounts and told her it was over. She stopped eating. She disappeared. She used her own suffering to force my hand. A mother can never win against a daughter who’s willing to destroy herself. So today, I had come here ready to give in. Pay off his debts, swallow my pride, and accept him into the family. Then I found out about the kidney. I’ve spent decades in cutthroat business. I know a calculated move when I see one. This wasn’t impulsive. This was deliberate. Derek knew I only had one child. One heir. If he could permanently damage Vivi — make her physically dependent, emotionally broken, impossible to separate from him — then my entire fortune would eventually flow through her, and straight into his hands. This wasn’t a love story. This was a predator executing a very specific plan. The most heartbreaking part was Vivi. She was the lamb on the chopping block, convinced she’d found the love of her life. She’d decided that no matter how angry I got, my money would come to her eventually. She thought that gave her all the leverage she needed. Ding. The elevator opened. My personal assistant and bodyguard, Cole, stepped out. He was holding a freshly settled hospital bill. “Ms. Sullivan. All charges have been cleared.” Cole is thirty-two. Six foot two. Former Special Forces. Sharp features, composed face, not a word wasted. He’s been with me for six years, and there is no one in the world I trust more. I looked at his broad, steady shoulders, and a thought detonated in my mind. Wild. Logical. Completely irreversible. I’m forty-six, but I’ve invested heavily in my health for years — top-tier doctors, annual comprehensive screenings, tailored nutrition and training programs. Last month’s full physical confirmed it: every metric, optimal. Fully capable of carrying a child. Vivi had made her choice. She’d handed her body to a man who saw it as a transaction. Why should I leave my life’s work to someone who would hand it straight to him? Starting over — was that really so far-fetched? “Cole.” I stood up. I looked directly into his eyes. “Come with me to the car.”

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“Sis, if your husband won’t come home, that still doesn’t make it okay to video chat naked with some random guy!” It was Christmas Eve in the countryside, and my aunt’s gloating voice cut through the air like a knife. That was when I saw it — a video of a woman in a naked video call, spreading like wildfire through the family group chat. The lower half of her face, unblurred, looked exactly like my mom’s. And then there were the three moles on the woman’s left shoulder, lined up in a row. That had always been my mom’s signature mark. Except — my mom had those moles removed two years ago. My phone went crazy with vibrations. Every call was from my dad. The neighbors were loving every second of it. I let out a quiet sigh. It had been a long time since anyone dared to mess with my dad’s family. “That woman doing naked video calls is obviously her — even the gold necklace is the same style!” At the holiday dinner table, several women glared daggers at my mom. My aunt stood up, phone in hand, staring at the solid gold necklace around my mom’s neck with barely concealed envy. “Sis, Renee’s already grown up — how could you do something this shameless?” “Even if your husband’s been living apart from you, that’s no excuse to do naked video calls with some guy!” I looked at the video circulating through the family group chat. The upper half of the woman’s face was blurred out, but the lower half was identical to my mom’s. Every piece of jewelry she wore was something my mom had owned for years. The most obvious detail was the three moles on the woman’s left shoulder, lined up in a row. That had been my mom’s birthmark since childhood. But two years ago, my mom had decided she didn’t like them and had them removed. I frowned, studying my aunt’s face. She shared about seventy percent of my mom’s features. In the video, the woman’s breathy moans made my mom’s eyes go red with humiliation. “Does that woman have my name written on her face? Don’t go throwing wild accusations!” My aunt covered her mouth in exaggerated shock. “Whether it’s you or not, only you know the truth — yelling at me won’t change anything.” My gut told me something was off. I stepped in front of my mom and held her back. “Do you have any actual proof this is my mother?” Mrs. Li cracked open a sunflower seed, clearly enjoying the drama. “Honey, the bottom half of that face is your mom’s spitting image, and the necklace is the exact same one.” Mr. Yang’s face was full of contempt. “Chloe, I’m not trying to be harsh, but when a man doesn’t come home, it’s on the wife. How could you just go looking for your own fun?” “Exactly — everyone knows your mom has three moles on her shoulder. Same as that woman in the video.” My mom stared at the aunts and uncles she’d grown up around, disbelief written all over her face. Her eyes turned cold. My dad’s business kept him busy, and he’d tried countless times to get my mom to move abroad with him. But my mom never liked the noise and flashiness of city life. She couldn’t bring herself to leave the village she’d grown up in. Dad had no choice but to send a housekeeper to look after her back home. He and I didn’t make it back very often. Occasionally, people in the village would gossip about how he was never around. My mom would just smile and explain that he was busy with work. But now, out of nowhere, rumors had spread that my parents’ marriage was falling apart and that my mom had been doing naked video calls with some man. My mom was being dragged through the mud for something she didn’t do. Looking at the crowd of self-righteous faces around us, my mom and I exchanged a glance. The necklace. The matching moles. The face. It was obvious. Someone had been planning this for a long time, and they wanted to destroy my mom. In a small town like this, a woman’s reputation was everything. Without flinching, my mom grabbed her neckline and pulled it open in front of everyone. “That woman cannot be me. My moles were removed a long time ago!” My aunt froze, her eyes going wide. The people around us leaned in, craning their necks to see. My aunt rushed forward and yanked my mom’s collar back up. “Have you no shame? Pulling your clothes open in public! You probably just had them removed recently because you were scared of getting caught!” “How did someone like you end up with a man like Nathan? You couldn’t even keep him home!” “If it weren’t for you getting in the way back then, Nathan would have married—!” That hit me like a slap. I suddenly remembered. The person who had been engaged to my dad back then was my aunt. She’d looked down on him — thought he was all looks and no money. She’d broken off the engagement on her own and married a government worker instead. My grandfather, not wanting the family to look bad, had given my mom away in her sister’s place. Then, not long after the wedding, my aunt’s husband dropped dead unexpectedly. Meanwhile, my dad had grinded his way up from nothing. His business grew bigger every year, and within a few years, he was the kind of man everyone envied.

My mom was shaking with fury. “Talk is cheap. If you have real evidence, go ahead and call the police. Let them investigate.” I backed her up immediately. “That’s right. If the woman in that video isn’t my mother, then everyone who made up these lies and spread that video is looking at criminal charges.” “No! Don’t call the police!” The moment those words landed, my aunt lunged forward and snatched my mom’s phone, then hurled it against the ground. She spun around and put on the face of a concerned elder. “If the police get involved, your mother’s life is ruined. How is she supposed to show her face after that?” “She may have done something wrong, but we’re still family.” At the mention of calling the police and spreading defamatory content, it wasn’t just my aunt who reacted. The neighbors who’d been watching all had the same shift in expression. They’d probably been forwarding that video and those messages all over town just to have something to gossip about. Everyone started talking over each other at once. “Renee, listen to your uncle — don’t make this worse for your mom. Let it go.” “That’s right, Chloe made a mistake, but if she’s willing to own up to it, that’s enough. No need to blow this up.” I looked every one of them in the eye. “If someone was spreading lies like this about you, would you just let it go?” A few of them went awkward and quiet, no one willing to be the first to answer. Then Mr. Yang’s son suddenly lit up and aimed his phone camera straight at us. “Ha! Threatening to call the cops? You’ve got no shame — just like your trashy mom.” “Don’t go anywhere, everyone — I’m about to do some real justice here. I’m going live to expose a mother-daughter pair from our own neighborhood.” Jason Yang was a small-time streamer. I’d known that. And now he saw this as his ticket to a bigger audience. He wouldn’t shut up, shoving his camera almost into my mom’s face. “This woman couldn’t hold onto her man. He’s gone all year, so she’s been messing around behind his back — doing naked video calls with God knows who!” The more he talked, the more worked up he got. He grabbed his dad’s phone and started playing the video directly into his livestream. The comments flooded in. “Oh my God, I finally caught up — this woman is disgusting!” “Women never can handle being alone. Should’ve kept her on a leash.” “Lol I’ve got the original — her body’s insane, lmk if you want it 😏” I was furious. I stepped forward and grabbed his arm. If that video spread online under my mom’s name, we’d both be destroyed — turned into content for Jason Yang’s next viral moment. But before I could even start, I was blindsided by a heavy slap across my face. “Grandpa?!” I pressed my hand to my stinging cheek and stared in disbelief at my grandfather, who had just arrived in a hurry. He was breathing hard. He grabbed me by the hair and slammed my head toward the wall. “Look what your mother raised — a shameless little brat! She sleeps around and you cover for her!” “Dad!” My mom threw herself in front of me and pried his hand loose. “You dare call me Dad! I don’t have a daughter like you!” He shoved my mom aside and drove his foot hard into her back. My mom begged him. “Dad, the woman in that video is not me. You’re my own father — don’t you believe me?” “Would your sister lie? She’s protecting what’s left of your dignity by not calling the cops!” “From today on, get out of this town. You are no daughter of mine.”

The neighbors murmured among themselves. “Even her own father wants nothing to do with her. Women like that should be run out — she’ll drag everyone else’s reputation down.” “Who knows who she’ll go after next. Get rid of her. Get rid of both of them!” Hands grabbed at our hair with no good intentions, dragging my mom and me across the ground like we weighed nothing. Some of the women decided that wasn’t enough. They picked up scalding bowls of food from the table and threw them at us. I dug my fingers into the ground, nails torn back, bleeding, using my body to shield my mom from the rotten eggs being thrown at her. My aunt covered her nose in disgust, bent down, and spat on me. She reached out, tore the gold necklace from my mom’s neck, and fastened it around her own throat with a look of pure satisfaction. “Finally, I don’t have to sneak around to wear it.” Barely conscious, I heard my aunt muttering to herself. “Sweetie, some people are just born to lose. Married well and still couldn’t hold on to it.” The raw red marks across my mom’s neck made my eyes burn. I don’t know where I found the strength, but I screamed and launched myself at my aunt, fighting her with everything I had. In the chaos, her jacket was torn open. And there on her shoulder — three moles, identical to my mom’s. My aunt panicked. She cursed and aimed her sharp nails straight at my eyes. A burst of searing pain, and everything in front of me turned red. My phone was still going crazy — all calls from my dad. I ignored the pain, grabbed the phone, and fired off a quick message to my dad, then dialed emergency services. I could barely get the words out, but I’d just finished giving the address when my aunt’s heel came down and crushed my phone screen. “She’s trying to call the cops!” Her voice was shrill and vicious. “Renee, you want to ruin all of us? How could you be so heartless?” “Your mom messed around with some guy, and we didn’t even push her to name names. The adults in this family are trying to protect what little dignity you two have left — can’t you see that?” The women who had been watching from the sidelines went pale when they heard that. One by one, shoes came down on my hand. A crack. My fingers broke. I clutched my hand to my chest, rolling on the ground in agony, tears and blood mixing on my face. When my mom heard my screaming, she wrenched herself free from the men holding her and threw herself over me. My grandfather’s cane came down hard across her back. “That’s what you get for running around behind your husband’s back!” My mom’s choked denials were swallowed up by the fists and kicks raining down on her, but she only held me tighter. Dust and tears caked my face. I kept begging them to stop, which only made the blows harder. Jason’s excitement peaked as he locked the camera on my mom’s face. “Yeah, yeah — her name’s Chloe Hartley, lives at — her ID number is — someone in the comments just dug up her phone number too, nice work!” “Heh, I’ve got a whole collection of her private photos. I’ll drop them in the fan group later. Enjoy, fellas.” The blood in my veins went cold. Jason’s followers had found my mom’s personal information and put it online. His fat lips kept moving. “Trending — we’re trending — hahaha, my livestream is trending!” A few of the younger guys shoved their way up next to Jason. “Bro, you’re about to blow up! Don’t forget about us when you make it big!” Jason laughed and waved them off, then reached toward my mom’s clothes, shoving his camera down toward her neckline. “Please — Jason, please stop filming, please—” My mom’s voice was so weak I could barely hear her. I growled through my teeth, pushed past the agony of my broken fingers, and smashed Jason’s phone out of his hand. The screen crackled, flickered twice, and went dead. “My stream!” A kick slammed into my chest. Jason’s thick hands closed around my throat. “You little brat — I’ll kill you for that!” My aunt laughed with satisfaction. “Strip them and throw them out on the street. Let’s see if they ever show their faces around here again.” The crowd tore at our clothes. Scraps of fabric littered the ground, and Jason’s hand was already reaching toward my mom. I clawed at him desperately, but I was thrown back. Then, in the next second, Jason was yanked off the ground by two hands. AA fist connected with his face — savage, deliberate — and a voice came through clenched teeth. “You’re the one spreading lies about my wife?”

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Just because I carried a limited-edition bag on my first day of the internship, my department manager had the nerve to pressure me into personally funding a company-wide trip to the Maldives — chartered flight included, two million dollars out of my own pocket. “Stella, you’re so loaded — what’s the big deal about treating your colleagues? Consider it an honor to buy your way into the inner circle.” I turned her down flat. She never forgave me for it. On the day of our global launch event, she didn’t just steal my core strategy proposal — she locked me inside a server room held at fourteen degrees below zero, planning to ride my work straight to the top in front of the billion-dollar conglomerate’s chairman and a top-tier investor. She thought I’d quietly freeze to death in the dark. What she didn’t know was that the billion-dollar chairman she was killing herself to impress was my father. And that untouchable top investor? My fiancé. Ding — In the quiet of the open office, my phone screen lit up. It was a direct message from my department manager, Sandra Zhou. I had just finished sorting through a stack of market analysis data. I rolled my stiff neck and tapped the notification open. It was a quote for a seven-day luxury trip to the Maldives. Total cost: $2,150,000. I hadn’t even processed that number when Sandra’s second message popped up right behind it. 【Stella, that Hermès Himalayan you had today — that’s the real thing, right? I looked it up. Those go for six figures easy.】 【Since your family is clearly doing so well, how about you cover the company’s annual team retreat this year? Full sponsorship?】 【Nothing crazy — just charter a private jet and book the overwater villas at a five-star resort. Think of it as your initiation gift to all the senior staff. Do this right and everyone will have your back on the job.】 I stared at those words on my screen and almost laughed. I was interning at this subsidiary under a fake identity to learn how operations ran at the ground level. It was my own money I spent on my own bag. What gave her the right to expect me to drop over two million dollars on a hundred-plus employees I barely knew? I typed back without hesitating. 【Sorry, Sandra. That’s not my responsibility, and I don’t have that kind of money lying around.】 The message had barely sent when the company group chat exploded. Sandra had posted a company-wide announcement to the group — all hundred-something members. 【HUGE NEWS!! A massive thank-you to our very generous intern, Stella Lin!! She’s offered to personally sponsor this year’s annual company retreat!! Seven days in the Maldives, first-class flights, five-star overwater villas the whole way!! Drop a comment to thank our girl Stella!!】 The chat went absolutely insane. Notifications rained down like a thunderstorm. “No way!! Stella’s a secret heiress?? Legend!!” “Thank you so much, Stella!! I’ve been dreaming about the Maldives forever, and now it’s actually happening!!” “She’s always so quiet at work — didn’t see this coming at all. This is the kind of energy that makes people rich, honestly.” “Stella, I already checked out the itinerary — can we lock in the charter for Friday night? That way it doesn’t eat into the weekend.” I looked at every single one of those messages — every grasping, entitled face behind them — and something cold settled over me. She was going to spend my money to buy herself goodwill. Didn’t even ask me. Just announced it publicly and let the social pressure do the rest. I exhaled slowly and started typing. “@SandraZhou Sandra, when exactly did I agree to sponsor anything?” “Using someone else’s wallet to play generous — don’t you think you’re laying it on a little thick?” The moment those two messages went out, the group chat went dead silent. For a full two minutes, not a single person dared to respond. Then Sandra called me on FaceTime. I looked at her name on the screen and hit decline without blinking. She panicked and started leaving voice messages — one after another, rapid-fire. I used the transcription feature to read them. “Stella, don’t push your luck. I’m giving you an opportunity here. Do you have any idea how the real world works? You just graduated.” “Showing up with a six-figure bag like that — what was that supposed to be if not showing off? So what if you put in a little money?” “I’m telling you, the list has already been submitted. If you ruin this for everyone right now, your career at this company is finished. I will make sure of it.” I read every word, and my expression went completely flat.

“My money is mine. Team retreat expenses go through the company’s finance department on the official account. If you want to be generous with someone else’s wallet, you need their consent first.” I typed back, voice cold. “You have three minutes to post a correction in the group chat. If you don’t, I’m filing a report with corporate HR for workplace coercion.” The message had barely sent when the sharp click of heels cut across the office floor. Sandra came storming over to my desk, face set hard under a full face of makeup. Slap. She threw a thick stack of papers — the retreat sign-up list — directly onto my keyboard. The sound made heads turn all around the office. “Stella Lin, who do you think you are?” Sandra crossed her arms and looked down at me, her voice slicing through the air. “Threatening me with corporate HR? You think that actually scares me? There are a hundred and twenty people on that list. They’ve all made plans.” “I’ll say it once. If you don’t put up that money, you fail your performance review tomorrow. Pack your things and get out.” A few of her usual sycophants — the ones who always trailed behind her in the hallways — piped up from the sidelines. “Seriously, if you weren’t going to pay, you shouldn’t have let people get excited.” “She strung everyone along and now she’s backing out? That’s just bad character.” “No team spirit whatsoever. People like that are just a liability.” I sat there and didn’t even look up. I reached over and picked up the stack of papers she’d thrown on my keyboard. I turned it over in my hands once. “Sandra, with sales instincts like yours, you really missed your calling at a flea market.” “You—!” Sandra’s face went white-hot with rage. She jabbed a finger with bright red nails directly at my face. “I’ll say this one more time.” I stood up. I grabbed the stack of papers and tore it in half, then dropped the pieces into the trash can at my feet. “I’m not paying. And I’m genuinely curious — exactly how much authority does a department manager have to fire someone without going through HR?” Sandra was shaking. She stared at me with something close to hatred. “Fine. Stella Lin. You want to play it that way?” “You’ll regret this.” She spun on her heel and clicked furiously back to her office. The rest of the team watched her go, then turned and gave me the kind of look people reserve for someone walking toward a cliff. “Young people these days. So impulsive.” “She just made an enemy of Sandra. Her life here is going to be miserable.” I ignored all of it and went back to work. I thought that was the end of it. I underestimated how far Sandra was willing to go. At three o’clock that afternoon, the company was in full preparation mode for the next day’s global product launch. Sandra walked to the center of the office and announced loudly, “The event materials just arrived. They’re down in the basement storage on level three.” She turned and looked directly at me. Her eyes were cold. “Stella. Go bring all hundred boxes of promotional packets and gift sets up to the rooftop conference center.” I stopped typing and looked at her. “I’m a strategy intern. Moving materials is logistics department work.” Sandra let out a short, contemptuous laugh. Her voice went up several notches. “Cross-department support is standard when we’re short-staffed. What, you can’t handle a little hard work and still expect to get paid?” “The elevator is restricted today. Use the fire stairs. If it’s not done before you clock out, I’m marking you absent for the day.” The office went quiet. Not a single person spoke up. I looked at the satisfied expression on Sandra’s face and let the corner of my mouth curl. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

The basement storage on level three was dim and damp. A hundred cardboard boxes. Each one close to thirty pounds. I didn’t touch a single one of them. I pulled out my phone, photographed the towering stacks of materials, and sent the pictures straight to my personal assistant. “Send a few people over to move these upstairs. And while you’re at it — I want everything you can find on Sandra Zhou.” I had barely sent the message when I heard quiet footsteps approaching from behind. Before I could turn around, something slammed hard into my back. I lost my balance completely and pitched forward. Thud. My knees hit the concrete floor. The pain shot through my entire body like electricity. I threw out my right hand to protect my head. My palm scraped across the rough ground and came away bleeding. I sucked in a sharp breath and forced myself to turn around. Sandra was standing less than six feet away, a cup of iced coffee in her hand. “Oh my goodness, I am so sorry.” She pressed a hand to her mouth in exaggerated shock, but her eyes were glittering with something ugly. “It’s so dark down here — I didn’t see you. Are you okay?” She walked over at a leisurely pace and looked down at my bleeding hand with an expression of mocking concern. “Tsk. I guess a girl like you really is delicate. Can’t even keep your footing. How are you ever going to make it in the real world?” I clenched my jaw and pushed myself back to my feet. The pain in my knee nearly buckled me again, but I grabbed the metal shelving beside me and held on. I pulled out my phone and photographed my injured knee, my bleeding palm, and Sandra standing across from me — one shot after another. “What are you doing?!” Sandra’s expression shifted. She reached out to grab my phone. I stepped to the side. My eyes were flat. “Evidence.” “Whether you pushed me on purpose is something the security footage will answer.” The word footage made Sandra flinch for just a second — and then she smiled again. “Security footage? Stella, did you hit your head?” She stepped closer, dropping her voice to something low and mocking. “The system on this level went down for repairs yesterday. Every camera down here is blind. What exactly are you planning to prove?” She poked me in the shoulder. “You’re playing in my house. You’ve got a lot to learn.” “I’ll tell you right now — this is just the beginning. You’re finishing those boxes today, and tomorrow’s launch? Don’t think for a second that’s going to go smoothly for you.” She gave a short, dismissive laugh, turned around, and walked away. I watched her go and said nothing. I pressed a tissue against my palm to slow the bleeding, then limped out of the basement. The cameras went down? The security system in this building had just been upgraded last month by corporate — a full overhaul using enterprise-grade cloud redundancy. There was no way it had simply gone down. I didn’t go back to the strategy department. I took the elevator straight to the eighteenth floor and knocked on the division director’s door. Sandra was out of line. So I was going above her head. I wanted to see exactly how deep the rot went in this branch. Bang. I didn’t knock. I pushed the door open. Division Director Gary Wu was in the middle of practicing his golf swing in his office. He turned at the sound, and his expression curdled. “Stella? Were you raised in a barn? You knock before you come in.” I walked straight to his desk, limping, and held up my injured palm and my swollen, bandaged knee. “Gary, Sandra Zhou deliberately pushed me in the basement storage room. I’m injured. I’m requesting immediate security footage review and formal disciplinary action against her.”

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I held my daughter close, her breathing gone ragged, and knelt in the snow, pounding on the door like a man possessed. On the video doorbell screen, my wife Susan was raising a glass with her high school sweetheart. “Susan! Nora can’t breathe! Open the door and give me her medication!” Susan let out a cold laugh, her voice cutting like frostbitten air. “Ethan, are you seriously pulling this act just for that little bastard of yours?” “She’s your own daughter! She’s only five years old!” Susan’s first love chuckled from beside her. “Babe, I heard that little side-piece of his has asthma too. Runs in the family, I guess.” Susan’s eyes went cold in an instant. “Ethan, if you love playing the victim so much, then take your little bastard and freeze to death out there!” The next second, the second-floor window swung open. A basin of ice water came crashing down, and the moment it hit my daughter, it turned to frost on her skin. Nora convulsed in my arms. She looked up at the window one last time, and in a voice barely above a breath, she called out, “Mommy…”

The ice water soaked through my collar and down my spine, freezing solid almost instantly. Nora shuddered violently in my arms. The sharp, desperate wheeze that had been her breathing was suddenly cut off, like something invisible had reached down and squeezed her throat shut. Her whole body went rigid. Her tiny hands locked onto my collar, knuckles white. “Nora! Nora, don’t be scared, Daddy’s here!” I threw my body around her like a shield, trying to melt the shell of ice forming over her with whatever warmth I had left. From the second-floor window came the sound of Susan laughing, free and unbothered. “Wow, Oscar-worthy performance. What a waste of talent.” She swirled a glass of red wine, looking down at me from above like I was a dog sprawled in the snow. Jason stood beside her, one arm around her waist, watching the whole thing with a grin. “Babe, look at him shaking. Someone who didn’t know better might actually think he was freezing.” “That water had ice cubes in it. Figured these two needed cooling down before they started embarrassing themselves.” I looked up, the corners of my eyes burning, every blood vessel ready to burst. “Susan! Are you even human? That is your biological daughter!” “Nora’s asthma is real. Her inhaler is on the living room table. Please, just throw it down to me!” “Whatever you want from me, I’ll do it. Just give me the medication!” In that moment, dignity, pride, every last shred of my self-respect — I threw it all away without a second thought. All I needed was for my daughter to live. Susan took a slow sip of wine, her expression dripping with contempt. “Biological daughter? Ethan, you have a lot of nerve.” “If your people hadn’t forced my father’s hand back then, do you think I would’ve ever married a deadbeat like you?” “That child has your worthless blood in her. She makes me sick just looking at her.” Jason leaned in close to Susan’s ear, his voice deliberately loud enough to carry. “Babe, forget about him, today’s my birthday. Don’t let this trash ruin the mood.” “Although, with the snow coming down this hard, if something actually happened…” Susan let out a short, cold huff and turned back into the room, returning with something in her hand. It was Nora’s asthma inhaler. Hope ignited in my chest. I shuffled forward on my knees, reaching out. “Give it to me! Susan, please, give it to me!” Susan dangled the inhaler between her fingers, a slow, cruel smile spreading across her face. “Want it?” “Then beg.” “Bark like a dog. Give me two good ones, and I’ll think about it.” In my arms, Nora’s breathing was fading. Her lips had gone from blue to nearly black. Her eyes were half open, pupils losing focus — but she was still instinctively curling into my chest. The will to survive. My heart felt like it was being sliced apart, piece by piece. I ground my teeth until my jaw ached. A low, broken sound tore out of my throat. “Woof. Woof.” For my daughter, I would give up everything. Susan and Jason exploded into laughter. Jason doubled over, pointing at me. “Babe, look at him, he literally sounds like a dog!” “Well, if he’s a dog, he should go fetch.” Susan flicked her wrist. The inhaler traced an arc through the air. It didn’t come to me. She hurled it straight into the garbage can in the corner of the yard — the one overflowing with filth. “Go get it. If you find it, it’s yours.” “Though with snow this deep, by the time you dig it out, I’d say that little bastard of yours will be stone cold.” “Ha!” The window slammed shut. Cutting off the warm light and laughter inside. Leaving only the howling wind, the endless snow, and me. “Nora, hang on. Daddy’s getting the medicine, Daddy’s going right now!” I set her down in the corner of the wall where it was slightly less exposed, pulled off my soaked, half-frozen jacket, and draped it over her. Then I crawled toward the garbage can on all fours. The snow was thick. Every inch forward felt like dragging myself over broken glass. But I couldn’t feel the pain. My mind had only one word in it: Medicine. Medicine. Finally, I toppled the garbage can. Reeking kitchen waste spilled across the snow in a wet, filthy mess. I tore through it with my bare hands, glass slicing open my fingers, blood running hot into the cold. There. The blue inhaler. I snatched it up and scrambled back to Nora, half-crawling, half-falling. “Nora, I’ve got the medicine! Open your mouth!” With shaking hands, I pressed the inhaler between her lips and pushed down. Once. Twice. Three times. Nothing came out. Just a hollow hiss. I went still. In the dim glow of the streetlight, I read the label. It was last month’s empty canister. Susan had lied to me. She’d done it on purpose. From the very beginning, she never intended to let Nora live.

Despair swallowed me whole, like a black hole opening beneath my feet. I gripped the empty inhaler, my fingernails digging into the plastic hard enough to crack it. “Susan!!!” I screamed into the sky, a sound so raw and broken it didn’t even sound human. In my arms, Nora had stopped convulsing. She’d gone soft and still. That terrible silence was more terrifying than the desperate gasping had been. “Nora? Nora, don’t scare Daddy!” My hands shook as I checked her breathing. Almost nothing. Her warmth was draining away fast, like a piece of metal cooling after the heat is cut. I couldn’t just stay here. This was a private hillside neighborhood. The snowstorm had cut off the road. An ambulance couldn’t get up here. The only way out was inside. Heat. An oxygen bag. The real medication. I scooped Nora up and threw myself at the front door. “Bang. Bang. Bang.” I used my body. My head. My fists. I slammed against that heavy wooden door with everything I had. “Susan! Open up! That was an empty canister!” “Nora’s not going to make it! Please, just let me in!” “You don’t even have to let me in — just let Nora in! I’ll stay out here! I won’t set foot in your house!” Blood ran down from my forehead and into my eyes. I couldn’t feel it. The video doorbell flickered on again. On the screen, Susan was cutting a steak, her movements calm and composed. Jason sat across from her, casually twirling a fresh blue inhaler between his fingers. Nora’s real medication. “So annoying.” Susan furrowed her brow, looking thoroughly inconvenienced. “Ethan, are you done? It’s the middle of the night and you’re out there wailing like a ghost. We’re trying to eat.” I pressed my face against the camera lens. My blood smeared across the glass. “Susan, that was an empty one! If you want to hurt someone, come after me. Leave Nora out of it!” “Give me the medication! Unlock the door!” Jason held up the inhaler and gave it a little wave at the camera. “Oh wow, looks like we grabbed the wrong one earlier.” “Babe, he seems pretty desperate. Maybe we should… give it to him?” He wore a saint’s smile, but his eyes were full of amusement. Susan sliced off a piece of rare steak and chewed it slowly. “Give it to him? Why?” “He barked like garbage before. No sincerity whatsoever.” “Want to come inside? Fine.” She set down her knife and fork and dabbed the corner of her mouth with a napkin. “Get in the dog cage.” “Stay in there for one full hour without coming out, and I’ll have someone bring the medication to you.” In the corner of the yard sat a large iron cage. It was the kennel for Susan’s two Tibetan Mastiffs. Those dogs only ever listened to Susan. They had never treated me as their owner — just shown me teeth. Right now, both of them were in the cage, barking furiously at me and Nora. Saliva dripped from their fangs and hit the snow, steaming in the cold. “Not going to do it?” Susan’s voice dropped. “Then freeze to death out there.” “Honestly, that little bastard dying would be a gift. One less person to split the inheritance with later.” “You have three seconds.” “Three.” “Two.” I looked down at my daughter. Her face was white as paper. Frost had gathered on her eyelashes. She looked like a shattered porcelain doll. I had no choice. “I’ll do it!” “I’ll do it — don’t cut the feed! Don’t cut it!” I carried Nora and stumbled toward the kennel. The two Mastiffs saw me coming and lunged at the iron bars, unleashing a roar that rattled the whole cage. I set Nora down in the most sheltered corner outside the cage and peeled off my last layer — my sweater — and wrapped it around her. I had nothing left but a thin dress shirt. “Be good, baby. Daddy’s just going to put on a little show for Mommy, and then she’ll give you your medicine.” I pressed my lips to my daughter’s ice-cold forehead. Then I pulled open the iron door and climbed inside. Both Mastiffs launched themselves at me instantly. Their teeth sank through my arm, tearing at my flesh. The pain was blinding. I bit down on my lip and made no sound. I couldn’t scream. If I screamed, Susan would be displeased. If she was displeased, she wouldn’t give me the medication. I curled into a corner thick with filth and let the dogs tear at me. My blood soaked red into the snow. On the video doorbell screen, Susan and Jason were laughing so hard they could barely breathe. “Incredible! This is incredible!” Jason clapped like he was watching a gladiator fight. “Babe, look at this pathetic creature. Even the dogs don’t respect him.” Susan sipped her wine, her eyes bright with satisfaction. “This is what happens when you cross me.” “Ethan, you used to be so proud, didn’t you? Tell me — how exactly did you force me into this marriage?” “Now I’m going to grind you into the dirt. You will never, ever get back up.” The seconds crawled by. Every one of them felt like a year. My vision was going dark. Blood loss and cold were pulling me under. But I kept my eyes locked on Nora through the bars. As long as she was still alive, I could hold on. Finally, the hour was up. “Susan… time’s… up…” I turned toward the camera and pushed the last of my strength into my voice. “The medicine…” Susan yawned, like she’d nearly dozed off. “Oh, I got so caught up watching I lost track of time.” “Fine. Since you’ve been such a good boy.” “Jason, go. Take him the medicine.” Jason stood, grabbed the inhaler, and walked out onto the second-floor balcony. I dragged myself out of the cage, crawling on ruined legs, and pulled myself to the spot beneath the balcony. “Ready to catch?” Jason smiled and let go. The inhaler dropped straight down. I reached up with both hands. And then, in the split second before it landed — a basin of foot-washing water came pouring off the balcony. The force of it knocked the inhaler sideways, sending it crashing into the stone several feet away. The blue plastic shattered. The medication inside spilled across the snow and was swallowed up in seconds. Jason covered his mouth in mock surprise. “Oh no. Butterfingers.” “What do we do now? The medicine’s gone.” “Ethan, looks like even God doesn’t want to save that little bastard of yours.”

That sound — plastic shattering on stone — went off like a thunderclap inside my skull. I stared at the dark stain spreading through the snow where the medication had been. That was Nora’s last chance. Gone. All of it, gone. “No — !” A sound ripped out of me that I didn’t recognize, raw and animal and broken. I clawed at the ground with both hands, trying to scrape up the snow that had swallowed the liquid. Even a little. Even one drop. I cupped a handful of dirty, contaminated snow and crawled back to Nora on my knees. “Take it, baby, come on, the medicine…” I tried to press the snow to her lips. But her teeth were clenched shut. Nothing was getting through. Her body had gone completely cold. No movement at all. That silence hit me like a blade driven through my chest and twisted. “No… no…” My hands shook as I reached for her pulse. Nothing. I checked her breathing. Nothing. I pressed my ear to her chest. Nothing. My entire world collapsed in that moment. On the second-floor balcony, Susan and Jason were still laughing. “Look at him trying to feed her snow. Ha!” “Father-daughter bond, truly moving stuff.” Susan leaned lazily against the railing, a slim cigarette held between her fingers. “Ethan, drop the act.” “You’ve had your fun. Now take your little bastard and get off my property.” “You’re ruining the vibe.” I raised my head slowly. No tears on my face. Just blood, and melted snow. My eyes were empty, hollow as a dried-out well, fixed on Susan without blinking. Something in that look made her pause mid-laugh. She frowned, almost involuntarily. “What is that look?” “What, you want to kill me?” “Think you’ve got what it takes? You worthless piece of nothing.” I didn’t answer. I just reached down, gently, carefully, and lifted Nora into my arms. She was so light. Light as a feather. Five years old, and she barely weighed forty-five pounds. Because Susan always said girls needed to watch their figures. Don’t eat too much. Because Susan always said asthma was a rich girl’s condition. Skip a few meals, it’ll clear up. I pressed my face against Nora’s cold, still cheek. “Rest now, baby.” “Daddy’s taking you home.” “It’s too cold here. And the people are too ugly inside.” I held my daughter and turned and walked into the storm. Behind me, I heard Jason’s voice. “Babe, he’s actually leaving.” “That kid… you don’t think she actually…?” Susan made a dismissive sound. “Die? It’s not that easy to die.” “It’s all a performance. He’s trying to make me feel guilty.” “Tomorrow morning he’ll be right back on his knees at the front door begging for forgiveness.” “Forget him. Let’s keep drinking.” “Oh, and post that video from earlier to your Instagram. Caption it something like: ‘Abusive ex stages breakdown to steal custody money.’ Let everyone see exactly what kind of man he is.” I kept walking through the storm, listening to every word. Each one landed like a nail driven into bone. I wasn’t angry anymore. I mean it. Anger is cheap. It’s a feeling for the living. For the dead, there’s no need for anger. I carried Nora. One step at a time. Out of the neighborhood. Out of the place I used to think was home. My phone buzzed in my pocket. My assistant calling. I picked up. My voice came out quieter than I expected. Steadier than it had any right to be. “Yeah.” “Boss! You finally picked up! About the company—” “Never mind that.” I cut him off. “Initiate the Judgment protocol.” Silence on the other end. A full five seconds. “Boss, are you sure? Once it starts, the Sullivan family is finished. Everything you’ve built over the past five years—” “I said initiate it.” I looked down at my daughter’s face, still and pale in my arms, and a slow, cold smile formed at the corner of my mouth. “And get me a coffin.” “Best quality wood you can find.” “Also, contact every media outlet in the city.” “Three days from now, I’m going to deliver Susan a gift she’ll never forget.”

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While we were out shopping, I stopped to tie my shoelace. When I looked up again, my boyfriend Robert and my best friend Nia were already ten feet ahead. I was about to step forward to catch up, but the space between them — the space that had always been mine — was slowly closing. They fell into step side by side, picking up a conversation I had no way of joining. As if there had never been a third person there at all. Back in school, Robert and Nia were the ones everyone called gifted. After graduation, Robert and Nia became the youngest attending physicians at the hospital. No matter how hard I pushed myself, I could only trail behind them — just another ordinary nurse. Robert would always ruffle my hair and say, “You’re adorable, even when you’re clueless.” Then he’d turn around and seamlessly perform one complex surgery after another with Nia. Watching their backs, I suddenly felt exhausted. This road I had been walking — always chasing after Robert — I didn’t want to walk it anymore.

We turned the corner, and Robert and Nia disappeared from view entirely. Not once, from start to finish, had either of them turned around to check if I was keeping up. I stood there quietly for a moment, then turned and walked away. Back at the hospital, a coworker raised an eyebrow and leaned over. “Didn’t you switch shifts to go on a date? That was fast.” “Yeah. It’s done.” I changed into my scrubs and sat back down at my station. The hospital kept us all busy. Over the course of a year, Robert and I had been on proper dates fewer than ten times. Today he had a rare day off, and I’d called in a favor with a coworker to swap shifts in advance. I thought that even just holding hands and walking around the neighborhood together would be enough. Then Nia showed up out of nowhere and threw everything off. Before we left, I’d made a point of telling them — with a straight face — not to talk about work. Not one word. Both of them had pinched my cheeks and nodded eagerly. “Okay, okay. We get it.” But halfway through dinner, someone brought it up, and before long the two of them were going back and forth about patient cases. I sat there beside them, pushing rice around my plate. I don’t even remember when the check was paid. Then the landline at the nurses’ station rang, snapping me back. My coworker had already picked up. A car accident up north — several people were being rushed into the ER. I was about to text Robert when a message from him came through first. “Patient came in. Nia and I are heading back to the hospital.” I turned the screen off and sat there, blank. He still hadn’t asked, not even once, where I had gone. After my last procedure of the day, I ran into Robert in the hallway. He looked worn out. I kept my eyes straight ahead and didn’t fall into my usual habit of fussing over him. But the moment we crossed paths, he caught my wrist. He buried his face in the curve of my neck — a habit of his. “What’s wrong? Don’t recognize your own boyfriend?” Every time he came home after a long shift, he’d do this. Said it was how he “recharged.” My mind told me to pull away. But there was a dull ache spreading through my chest that I couldn’t explain. It had taken me three years to go from quietly loving Robert to actually standing by his side. The day we got together, someone in our cohort immediately started a side bet on how long we’d last. Because honestly, the gap between us was hard to ignore. Robert had been at the top of his class every single year. Me? Since elementary school, I’d had teachers point fingers in my face and call me stupid. The one who’d stepped in front of me with open arms back then was Nia. I knew I wasn’t the smart one. I always needed Robert’s patience and Nia’s encouragement just to keep going. So even though I had made up my mind — the moment he leaned in close, all that resentment I had been holding onto began quietly dissolving. We sat together in an empty stairwell. It was a rare moment alone. In the silence, Robert finally spoke. “Maya.” “Yeah?” “Can you try to act a little more mature from now on?” I blinked, caught off guard. After a long pause, I slowly turned to look at him. “What?” His eyes were closed. His voice was flat — the way you’d talk about the weather. “This afternoon you disappeared without saying a word. You had Nia and me worried sick.” “We both finally had a day off. Even if you don’t care about me, you could at least consider Nia. She’s not your babysitter.” I didn’t move. But I felt like something inside me had cracked open, and cold air was rushing in. Worried about me? Then why wasn’t there a single call or text on my phone? Was it worry — or was I just ruining their day? “Look at you. I say two things and you’re already crying.” Robert’s expression was full of resignation. The way he looked at me was the way you look at a child who refuses to grow up. I dropped my head. Tears hit the front of my shirt, leaving a damp patch. “Okay. It won’t happen again.” He sighed and patted the top of my head. “Go home and get some rest. Nia and I still need to go over a treatment plan.” After Robert left, my phone rang. It was my dad. “Hey sweetheart, didn’t you say you were bringing your boyfriend over for dinner? Still at work?” I pressed my hand hard over my mouth so he wouldn’t hear me break. “Honey? Maya?” It took a while before I could speak normally. “Dad. He’s not coming.”

At dinner, my parents could tell something was wrong. They kept piling food onto my plate. When I set down my fork, I took a slow breath. “I don’t want to be a nurse anymore.” They both stared at me. “Didn’t you say you’d repeat a whole year of high school just to get into nursing school?” “Are you having a rough time at work? Don’t give up on your dream over a bad stretch.” I shook my head without saying anything. Medicine was Robert’s dream. It had never been mine. It started during a late study session in our senior year. He reached out his hand to me. “Maya, work a little harder. Let’s be together — always.” For that one sentence, I threw myself headfirst onto the road chasing after him. What followed were years of dense medical terminology, precise and unforgiving procedures, and nights that never seemed to end. Things that came easily to everyone else took me ten times the effort — sometimes a hundred. Once I started working, I had to stay alert every single hour, terrified of betraying a patient’s trust. And even then, all Robert would do was cup my face and say, “Watch how Nia does it. Stop being so scattered on the floor.” I was his girlfriend. But it had been a long time since he had looked at me like an equal. The next day at lunch, I submitted my resignation and went to the cafeteria to eat. Nia carried her tray over and sat down across from me. She slid half of her tomato scramble into my bowl and studied my face. “You were crying last night, weren’t you?” I looked up, not sure what she meant. Nia looked mildly surprised. “Nia and I worked so late we just got a room at the hotel for the night,” she said. “Robert just told me he forgot to let you know. He figured you’d be upset.” I had slept at my own place last night and had no idea whether Robert had come home. And honestly, it didn’t matter anymore. I kept eating. “Is that so.” Nia tilted her head, studying me with wide eyes. “Wait, you’re really not upset? Then — someone owes me a yogurt!” She spun around. Robert appeared from behind me, placed a yogurt in Nia’s palm, then sat down next to me. He frowned slightly. “Our Maya’s finally growing up. Normally this would’ve set you off for three days straight.” “Hey, Maya is not like that.” And just like that, the two of them launched into a debate about who knew me better. I sat between them, and everything became noise. My hands were shaking around my utensils. A wave of nausea rolled through me. The two people closest to me in the world were placing bets on my emotions. I turned to Robert slowly. My voice came out steady. “I want to break up.” The table went quiet. Robert stared at me. “You—” Before he could finish, Nia leaned over carefully. “Maya, are you mad at me? Last night was really just work. I didn’t ask him to stay.” Robert’s brow tightened. When he looked back at me, the surprise in his eyes had curdled into irritation. He took my words as a tantrum and spoke coolly. “It’s fine, Nia. You don’t need to explain yourself. She’s always like this — dramatic. It exhausts everyone around her.” Nia opened her mouth to say something, but Robert pulled her away. I was left alone at the table. I threw out most of my food and went to submit my resignation to the head nurse. She didn’t try very hard to talk me out of it. She just said the process would take at least a month.

Back at my station, a coworker hesitated before sliding up next to me. “Maya — did you and Dr. Robert break up?” He hadn’t agreed to it, but as far as I was concerned, we were over. I nodded. She exhaled slowly. “That explains it. A patient got aggressive earlier and shoved Dr. Nia. Dr. Robert picked her up right away and rushed her to the ER himself. I was watching — she barely even fell, but he completely panicked.” My brow pulled together. “Did she hurt her hand?” The resentment hadn’t gone anywhere, but my legs were already moving toward the ER before I’d made the decision. Back in school, Nia used to throw an arm around my shoulder and announce to no one in particular: “I’m going to be the best cardiothoracic surgeon in the country.” “Maya, I’ve got your back once we’re both at the hospital.” If her hand was injured, how would she ever operate again? Every bad possibility tangled together in my head as I walked. By the time I got there, Nia was lying on the exam table, eyes red. “Nia, are you okay?” I crossed the room quickly. She spotted me and managed a small smile. “I’m fine. Just twisted my ankle.” I had barely breathed in relief when Robert’s voice cut through, flat and cold. “Satisfied, Maya?” I had no idea what he meant. “If you hadn’t thrown a fit, Nia wouldn’t have come after you to smooth things over. She wouldn’t have been in the way of that patient.” His words pinned me to the floor. I couldn’t think straight. Nia was already pushing at his arm. “Why are you blaming Maya? That’s not fair.” But Robert kept his eyes on me. “Why haven’t you grown up after all these years? You always make everyone adjust around you. Who do you think you are?” Silence. Something hot was slipping out of the corners of my eyes again. As if he’d finally noticed how sharp his words had been, he softened — slightly. “Just try to be calmer going forward. Okay?” He reached out to wipe my tears. I turned my head and stepped back. “Dr. Robert, we’ve already broken up. Please don’t speak to me like that.” Robert let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “Maya. Enough.” Even Nia looked at me with disapproval. “Stop being stubborn.” Honestly — they were more alike than either of them knew. Neither of them could ever really see what I said, what I felt, or who I was. I pulled up a bitter smile and walked out. The days that followed, Robert gave me the silent treatment. Between that and my own efforts to avoid him, we somehow went half a month without exchanging a single word. But he was the hospital’s golden boy, and gossip about him never stopped. Word was that he brought Nia a fresh-cut steak every single day while she recovered. Word was that they co-authored a paper published in a major journal and got recognized by the chief of staff. When coworkers asked me for updates, I just shook my head. I didn’t know anything. One afternoon, Nia stopped me in the hallway. She caught my sleeve like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Maya, did you really stop talking to me just because you and Robert fought? Come on.” “You two are both impossible. Let me be the bridge here — just meet him halfway. Please?” I looked at my best friend of so many years. And felt something cold and unfamiliar wash over me. We had known each other longer. I hadn’t done anything wrong. So why did she always take his side?

“Dr. Nia, I have work to get back to. If there’s nothing else, please excuse me.” The color drained from Nia’s face in an instant. “Nia. Come here.” Robert was standing a short distance away. The glance he gave me was the kind you’d give a stranger. That was fine. I pulled my sleeve free and walked away. Not long after, the three of us ended up in the same OR. A colleague had called in sick, and I was filling in. The patient’s case was complicated. The hospital was taking it seriously. Robert was the lead surgeon. Nia was assisting. I took a slow breath, geared up, and triple-checked every sterile instrument before we started. Halfway through the procedure, I was still tightly wound, checking every move twice. Both of them were focused, expressions serious. “Hemostat.” I passed the hemostat to Nia. Then her hand slipped. It hit the floor with a sharp clatter. Before I could bend down, Robert’s voice came through, clipped and cold. “Get her out. Jessica, step in.” Coming out of the OR, I noticed cold sweat soaking through my scrubs. It had only been a small hiccup. The surgery went fine overall. After the shift, Nia left looking shaken and distant. Then Robert’s shadow fell over me. His eyes were tired, his voice heavy with disappointment. “A mistake like that — what kind of nurse are you?” I looked up at him in disbelief. “You saw what happened. That wasn’t my fault.” “So you’re saying it was Nia’s?” Robert’s expression went cold immediately. “Maya. Since when do you pass the blame?” I understood then. He had decided, in that moment, to make me take the fall — for Nia’s sake. My fingers drifted to my chest without thinking. No wound there. But it hurt so much I thought it might kill me. I don’t know what Robert said to the head nurse. The next day, I was reprimanded in front of everyone — and a patient’s family member happened to overhear. It spread fast. “That nurse Maya can’t even hold a scalpel steady. She has no business in an operating room. One of these days she’s going to get someone killed.” To contain the fallout, the hospital suspended me for a week. The head nurse sighed. “Administration is pushing hard on this. I put a rush on your resignation paperwork. Let’s get your things today.” At three in the afternoon, I changed into my street clothes and packed everything into a cardboard box. Robert spotted me in the hallway and frowned. “They’re letting you go over something this minor?” “Suspended,” I said. He visibly relaxed and reached over to ruffle my hair. “Then take it as a vacation. Rest up. I’ll take you somewhere fun next week.” I said okay and walked out of the hospital. He didn’t know I was never coming back.

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The night before the wedding, I was trying on my wedding dress when my fiancé spoke up, his tone completely casual: “I helped make your mom’s dying wish come true, so I need you to do something for me — just deal with this clingy girl for a bit.” When he saw me freeze, he added, “I’m marrying her tomorrow. I want you there as the wedding artist.” “She knows we’ve been together five years and she’s not taking it well. She wants her moment, and I can’t talk her out of it.” I stared at him blankly, forcing a stiff smile onto my face: “What are you talking about… didn’t we already get our marriage license?” “The license was fake,” Mason André said without a trace of shame. “My identity was fake too.” “I’m actually the heir to the André family. The André family and the Carter family have arranged a union — my wife can only be Chris Carter.” “But Fiona, I do still like you. All that glamour gets boring after a while. Being with you is the best escape I have.” “As long as you behave, I can give you everything except the title of wife. We can keep things exactly the way they’ve been.” He gently wiped the tears from the corner of my eye, smiling with a cruelty that chilled me to the bone. “Fiona, choose wisely.” “I’ve got a wedding tomorrow, so I’m heading out now. She’ll throw a fit if I’m late.” So five years of love had been nothing more than a pastime to cure his boredom. Mason was right. I should choose wisely. Him and his child — I wanted no part of either. ……

I stood frozen before the full-length mirror. The dress on my body was supposed to symbolize happiness. In this moment, it felt like a sharp slap across the face — silently mocking my foolish heart. Before all of this, I had always believed Mason was someone who never wanted to get married. So for five years, I had been the understanding girlfriend who never once pressured him. Then, a month ago, my mother — the only family I had — fell gravely ill. Her one dying wish was to see me marry Mason before she passed. When Mason found out, he took me to get a marriage license without hesitation. He even got down on one knee and proposed to me in front of my mother. I thought he loved me. But it turned out this was just the leverage he needed to keep me in line — all for the sake of appeasing another girl. Lost in my thoughts, the shop attendant walked in with a warm smile: “Miss Fiona, your fiancé said these two dresses would look lovely on you. He asked me to bring them for you to try.” I slowly lifted my eyes and smiled, though it came out hollow. “That won’t be necessary.” “The wedding — it’s been called off.” I don’t know how I made it home. I thought I could handle this calmly. But the moment I stepped through the door — I saw Mason’s jacket still hanging on the balcony, and the half-finished puzzle we’d been working on together the night before, still spread out on the table. The ache hit me slowly, then all at once — a dull, suffocating pain I couldn’t hold back. I sank to the floor, and finally broke down completely. I cried until I had nothing left. Then my mother called. I wiped my face with the back of my hand and pulled myself together before picking up. Her voice was fragile on the other end, but full of warmth and anticipation. “Fiona, how did the dress fitting go? Show me — I just know my daughter is going to be the most beautiful bride.” “I’m fine, I’m just so happy. Getting to see you two get married before I go… it makes everything worth it.” I swallowed the sob rising in my throat and kept my voice steady: “Don’t worry, Mom. The dress fitting went great. Everything’s almost ready for the wedding.” After I hung up, every last bit of strength left me. I collapsed onto the cold floor. Mason had calculated this perfectly. For my mother’s sake, I surrendered.

The next day, I packed up my art supplies and showed up at Mason’s wedding. Mason looked at me with a satisfied smile on his face. “Fiona, you’ve always been such an understanding girlfriend.” My heart clenched sharply. Those words — understanding girlfriend — cut into me like a blade, leaving a wound I couldn’t close. Five years together, but we were apart far more than we were close. The time we’d actually spent in the same place barely added up to a year. Mason always said he was swamped with work — ten months out of the year, he was supposedly away on business trips. I never once complained. When he vented about his boss docking his pay and bonuses, I quietly transferred half my own income into his account. Once, I was hospitalized and needed surgery. I kept it from him the whole time so he wouldn’t worry. When he found out afterward, it was the first time I ever saw his eyes go red. “Fiona, you don’t have to be so strong all the time. You still have me.” I never forgot those words. But the person who said them seemed to have forgotten them completely. Mason reached out of habit and ruffled my hair. I kept my head down and stepped back without making a sound. He noticed the distance. I saw his chest rise and fall sharply. I didn’t have the energy to care. I quietly followed his assistant toward the wedding venue. The ceremony was held at Mason’s private estate. Under crystal chandeliers that blazed like daylight, a sea of flowers stretched in every direction. The reception hall was filled with nearly five hundred tables. The scale of it was breathtaking. And I suddenly felt like a joke. When we were planning our own wedding, Mason had said: “It’s just a formality. Let’s keep it simple.” “You know how I feel about marriage.” I understood. I gave in, over and over again. No flowers. Scaled-back everything. A small venue on the outskirts of the city. Five tables. But now I could see — his “anti-marriage” stance had been nothing but an excuse. The truth was simple: he never wanted to marry me. The deeper I walked into the venue, the larger the crowd grew, and the louder the whispers became. “Isn’t that the woman Mason keeps on the side? And she actually had the nerve to show up here?” “Shameless. She looked decent enough from the outside — never would’ve guessed.” “She’s the wedding artist? Some broke little painter. Like she’d ever step foot in a place like this if she hadn’t latched onto Mason.” My feet stopped moving. The air felt like it had been sucked out of the room. The murmurs slithered through the crowd and gnawed at my already shredded heart. I wanted to say something — to tell them I wasn’t the other woman, that Mason and I had been together for five years. But I opened my mouth, then pressed it shut again. Who would believe me? The bride today wasn’t me. That said everything. I endured the stares and the pointed fingers, quietly set up my easel and art supplies, and gripped my paintbrush tight, pretending I couldn’t hear a single word. Then the wedding march drowned out everything else. Every pair of eyes turned to the radiant couple at the altar. In front of everyone, Chris looked at Mason and said the words: “I do.” I steadied my trembling hand and painted the moment they kissed. Even though I had braced myself for this, a deep, helpless ache still bloomed in my chest, spreading through me like cracks in glass. Then came the toast. As I expected, Chris walked over on Mason’s arm. She raised her glass with a practiced smile. “You must be the artist. Thank you so much for capturing our happiness today.” I pulled together a faint smile. “I can’t drink.” Chris bit her lip, and tears welled in her eyes almost instantly: “Mason, I guess I’m just not important enough to her.” Mason pulled her close. “It’s your day, baby. Whatever you say goes.” He turned to look at me, his gaze heavy with pressure. I held his stare without flinching. The pregnancy test tucked in my pocket felt like a brand pressed against my skin. “Mason, do you really need to make me drink this?” His brow creased with impatience. “It’s just one drink.” I let out a quiet, bitter laugh and said nothing more. I took the glass and drained it. The liquor burned a trail from my throat straight down to my stomach, and a sharp cramp twisted through my lower abdomen. By the time I swallowed the last drop, the final ember inside me went cold.

The rest of the time, I got through it one agonizing second at a time. By the time the reception ended, I was drenched in cold sweat. I was about to leave when Mason’s assistant appeared and steered me into a dressing room without giving me a choice. Chris had already changed out of her wedding dress. She sat there with her legs crossed, watching me. I pressed through the cramping pain in my stomach and held out the painting. “This is yours.” She curved her lips into a slow smile, reached out, and tore it clean in half. “Fiona, right? I know who you are. My husband’s mistress.” “I’m not a mistress,” I said, forcing down the surge rising in my chest. “And you know that.” Chris’s expression shifted instantly, her face twisting with vicious jealousy. “Mason married me. You’re still clinging to him — what would you call that if not being a mistress?” “You saw it yourself today. Mason loves me. He married me. What does five years with you even matter now?” “I have no interest in fighting over anything,” I said, looking at her with complete calm. “Once I’ve handled the last thing he promised me, I’ll be gone.” I was exhausted. I had no fight left in me. I turned to leave. Chris lunged after me and dug her nails into my arm. I cried out in pain and pushed her away without thinking. But before I even used any real force, she went sprawling to the floor. At that exact moment, Mason shoved the door open, his face a picture of panic. I stood there, frozen. “I didn’t —” The rest of my sentence was obliterated by what came next. “Chris, are you okay?” Mason rushed in and pulled her up from the floor. “Mason, you’re finally here!” She flung herself into his arms. Then she tilted her tearful eyes toward me. “Fiona came to drop off the painting — and then she just ripped it apart herself.” “She said I’m a homewrecker. That I don’t deserve to marry you, and I don’t deserve to have our painting.” “That’s a lie!” The fury hit my chest so hard I could barely breathe. Mason snapped his head up, his gaze dark and heavy as it locked onto me. “Why would Chris make something like that up when she’s carrying my child?” “Fiona, if anything happens to her or the baby, don’t think for a second you’ll walk away from this.” They had a baby on the way too… The world went silent. A long, hollow ringing filled my ears. Chris leaned into Mason’s arms, the corner of her mouth curling into a quiet, triumphant smile. “Mason, my stomach hurts.” “I noticed the gemstone pendant Fiona’s wearing. It matches yours — they’re a pair.” “As an apology, why not let her give it to us? For the baby’s blessing.” My chest seized. That gemstone pendant set was my mother’s wedding jewelry — the gift she’d given me and Mason for our engagement. I reached up and clutched the pendant at my throat, then looked at Mason, silently pleading. But he only glanced at me, his tone carrying a quiet edge of warning. “It’s just a pendant. We’ll give it back when we’re done with it.” “Fiona, learn to pick your battles.” I swayed on my feet. The nausea twisting my stomach didn’t come close to the pain tearing through me right now. Mason stared at my pale face, momentarily distracted. Chris caught it. A flash of spite crossed her eyes. She shook his hand. “Come on, Mason, we still have our after-party tonight. We need to go.” As she brushed past me, she dropped her voice to just barely above a whisper: “Thanks for the pendant. And don’t worry — I left you a little gift too.” The next second, my phone rang. I nearly dropped it. “Miss Fiona, your mother’s condition has taken a turn. Please come to the hospital immediately.”

My mind went completely blank. The blood drained from my entire body. There was only one thought left in my head: I had to get to my mother. I bolted out of the room like a person possessed and threw myself in front of Mason’s car just as it was pulling away. “Mason, my mom’s condition suddenly got worse. Please — please take me to the hospital.” Mason hesitated. In all the time he’d known me, I had always been the strong one. The one who kept everything together and never let anyone see her fall apart. Seeing me now — sobbing outside his window, begging — something tightened in his chest in a way he couldn’t quite explain. He was about to tell the driver to unlock the door. Then Chris’s voice cracked through the moment like a whip: “Fiona, are you seriously doing this to me on purpose?!” “Mason has spent five years with you. The least you can do is let him be completely mine today. Why do you have to take him from me right now?” “If you want to ruin our plans, just say so. You don’t have to make up some excuse.” With each word from Chris, the warmth drained from Mason’s eyes. What was left was cold and flat. “I already checked with her doctors. Your mom has been stable lately.” “Fiona, using something like this to try to keep me here just makes me tired of you.” He ignored my cries. The car pulled away and disappeared into the dark. In complete desperation, I bit through the pain and walked. Three hours. It took me three full hours to reach the hospital on foot. When I finally got there, I understood what Chris had meant by her “gift.” She had posted about me online — spreading the story that I was Mason’s mistress. A headline was already trending: [André Family and Carter Family Unite in Matrimony — Mistress Fiona Causes Scene at Wedding!] My mother had seen it. The shock and distress sent her into a collapse. By some miracle, the doctors had been able to stabilize her. In the hospital room, my mother stroked my hair gently, her voice thin and tired: “Fiona, I believe you. I’m not falling for those rumors.” “But… did you and Mason actually break up? Did he do something to hurt you?” I blinked back the tide rising behind my eyes and smiled for her. “Those articles are all lies. The wedding is still happening.” “Everything’s fine between us, Mom. I promise. So you need to focus on getting better.” She nodded with relief and, as though the effort had used up everything she had left, drifted back into sleep. I walked out of her room and slid down the cold wall until I was sitting on the floor. In the quiet of the hallway, the only sounds were my tears hitting the tile and the muffled sobs I pressed behind my hands. The next morning, I sent Mason a message. I asked him, for the sake of everything we had shared, to help me one last time. I never got a reply from him. Instead, Chris showed up — furious and spoiling for a fight. She stood outside my mother’s hospital room, arms crossed, staring down at me with contempt. “You pathetic little thing. I knew you’d go crawling back to Mason behind my back.” “Let me ask your mother how she managed to raise a daughter like you.” I threw myself in front of the door, but her bodyguards seized me before I could stop her. My mother heard the commotion and forced herself up to open the door. “Let go of her! You have no right to treat my daughter like this!” Seeing me being held back, she rushed toward us with everything she had left. But a single sentence from Chris stopped her cold. “Your daughter broke up my marriage. Are you saying she doesn’t deserve what she gets?” My mother stumbled backward. Her lips moved, but no sound came out. Then she fell. “No!” The scream tore out of me. I wrenched free and threw myself to her side. The medical team came running. After everything they tried, the doctor turned to me and shook his head. The strength went out of my legs. I crumpled to the ground. Then the doctor’s face went pale and he rushed toward me. That was when I felt it — a crushing weight low in my abdomen, and the warmth of blood spreading beneath me. That day, I lost the two most important people in my life at the same time. My mother, who had loved me more than anyone. And my baby — two months along. I was lying in the recovery bed after surgery when Mason’s message finally came through: “Fiona, what is wrong with you? Chris told me she went out of her way to bring a specialist to see your mother today, and you wouldn’t let her in — and then you hit her? You actually broke the skin on her hand.” “Look, she’s pregnant and she doesn’t need this kind of stress. I’m going to take her somewhere to decompress. I’ll be at the wedding on Saturday as agreed.” I didn’t reply. I blocked him on everything. Before I left, I arranged a simple funeral for my mother. Then I went home and packed. I picked up my phone and dialed a number I hadn’t touched in over a year. The next day, I boarded a flight to England. Toward the future I had once given up for him. Mason — this is my choice. We will not meet again.

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My parents wanted me to keep a low profile, so they swapped out my Maybach for a used station wagon. I didn’t think much of it — until the first day I drove it to work, and my boss snatched the keys right out of my hand. “Thomas, I need to take my girlfriend camping this weekend. Lend me the car. You’re single anyway — it’s not like you’re doing anything but sitting at home.” Before I could say a word, he added impatiently: “Fill up the tank first, and make sure it’s clean. Think of it as a chance to make a good impression.” The people around us craned their necks to watch. Even my girlfriend — who didn’t know we were together, as far as anyone at work was concerned — lowered her voice and nudged me: “Thomas, don’t make things difficult. He’s your boss. Just lend him the car and stay on his good side. It’ll help you at the end-of-year review.” I almost laughed out loud. It was my family’s company. What review did I need his help with? I looked at Mark — the department director who had been parachuted in from outside. I kept my patience. “Mark, this car is a limited edition. If it gets scratched, the parts are almost impossible to source.” “Maybe you could ask one of the other guys?” Mark rolled his eyes and scoffed. “It’s a beat-up used station wagon. What parts could possibly be hard to find?” “My new girlfriend has this thing about camping and needs a big car that can haul stuff. Otherwise, who’d bother with your junk.” A few coworkers exchanged glances and tried to smooth things over. “Come on, Thomas. Director Mark already asked — just let him borrow it for a bit.” “Getting face time with the boss is never a bad thing. It’s just a car. No need to be so stingy about it.” When I still didn’t answer, my girlfriend Aurora gave me a shove. “Thomas, stop acting up. Director Mark is talking to you. Get moving.” Mark glanced at Aurora, then turned back to me. “Alright, alright. You look like you can’t make up your mind, so clearly being generous isn’t in your nature.” “How about this — I’m not borrowing your used piece of junk for free. I’ll add two points to your performance review at year-end. Consider it me doing something nice for my subordinate.” Used piece of junk. That was rich. Sure, my dad had phased this car out of his rotation — but it cost enough to buy an apartment. Even a single scratch would run more than Mark’s entire annual salary. I was about to refuse when Aurora grabbed Mark’s arm and held on. “Thank you so much, Mark! Thomas just started and he’s still learning the ropes.” “Don’t worry — I’ll personally make sure the car is clean and the tank is full before you pick it up.” Mark looked pleased with himself, gave Aurora a pat on the hand, and headed back to his office. The coworkers around us started laying it on thick. “Thomas, aren’t you going to thank Director Mark?” “Seriously — two performance points for a used car? You’re coming out ahead.” Aurora exhaled with relief and came over to link her arm through mine. “There you go. You’ve got to be a little smoother about these things — especially as a man. Know when to play the game.” “If Mark’s happy, things will be a lot easier for both of us around here.” I stepped aside without a word, letting her hand fall. I glanced at her wrist. She was wearing a couples watch — the exact same one as Mark’s. “Aurora,” I said. “Are you working late again this weekend?” Her eyes shifted. She let out a dry laugh. “Yeah… the company suddenly has this urgent thing. I really do have to go in.” “You know how it is — I’m in a good stretch right now and I need to push.” I watched Mark’s back as he walked away, and smiled to myself. I wanted to see how far her “good stretch” would take her without my help. Monday morning, I was jolted awake by Mark calling my phone. “Thomas! Get your ass down to the lobby right now!” “Come see what your piece of crap car has done to me!” I took my time. Got up, washed my face, got dressed. By the time I got downstairs, Mark was standing next to the car with his hands on his hips, a crowd of coworkers gathered around him. I walked a full circle around the vehicle. The front bumper was caved in. One headlight was in pieces on the ground. The whole body was splattered with mud. The window had been left open, and inside there was a smell I couldn’t quite name — and a few used condoms sitting right there on the floor mat, out in the open. Mark saw me coming and immediately jabbed his finger at my face. “Thomas, what is wrong with this car?” “I was driving just fine and the brakes suddenly gave out! I went straight into a tree!” “You scared me half to death — and I want compensation for the emotional distress!” He caught himself mid-sentence. Aurora, standing off to the side, chimed in to pile on. “Thomas, how could you lend the boss a car with a safety defect?” “What if something had seriously happened to Director Mark? Could you even take responsibility for that?” This car had carbon-ceramic brakes — a limited-edition spec. And he was telling me they failed?

I fired back directly. “Director Mark, I never agreed to lend you this car. I’m guessing Aurora took the keys without telling me, didn’t she?” “But since the car’s already damaged, shouldn’t we talk about repair costs?” Mark’s voice went up an octave. “You’re asking ME for repair costs?” “Have you lost your mind?” The coworkers around us started whispering. “Thomas, you’re way out of line. The director drove your car — that’s him giving you the time of day.” “Exactly. It’s a secondhand car, it’s not worth anything. If it breaks, it breaks. Move on.” I almost laughed. This car was a limited-edition custom order my dad placed overseas. It cost five million dollars. My dad only changed the exterior so I could blend in at work. And these people were calling it a no-name secondhand car. Then Mark reached into his pocket and pulled out two bills. He flicked them at me like he was tipping a busboy. “Two hundred bucks. That’s more than enough to fix that heap of junk.” “Keep the change. Call it a bonus.” The bills drifted to the ground. Aurora scrambled to pick them up and pressed them into my hand. “Thomas, let it go. The director already paid you. What more do you want?” “We all work together — don’t make a big deal out of nothing. It makes you look petty.” I turned around and threw the money back at her. “Director Mark,” I said, “one headlight on this car costs a hundred and eighty thousand dollars.” “The front bumper replacement is another two hundred thousand. Add depreciation — this accident runs at least six hundred thousand total.” “How would you like to pay?” Silence. Then the whole crowd burst out laughing. Mark stared at me like I’d lost my mind. “Thomas, are you seriously trying to scam me?” “This random used station wagon — and you want six hundred grand? What are you smoking?” “Fine. If you can prove this car costs six hundred thousand to fix, I’ll not only pay you — I’ll get down on my knees and call you Grandpa, right here in front of everyone.” I let the corner of my mouth lift, pulled out my phone, and sent the damage photos to the overseas dealership. “Good. You said it.” “Director Mark, don’t come crying to me later.” Back in the office, Mark called an immediate department meeting. One agenda item only: workplace conduct. “Certain employees,” he announced, “have their minds on everything except their work. All they think about is how to cheat and extort their superiors.” “This department has zero tolerance for that kind of behavior.” “As a consequence, I’m moving Thomas’s project over to Aurora effective immediately.” “Aurora has been performing exceptionally well — putting in extra hours, showing real initiative. She’s got potential.” The room stirred. That project was a major account I’d been working for three months. We were weeks away from signing. Handing it over now was the same as giving away everything I’d built. Aurora stood up without a hint of humility. “Thank you for the trust, Director Mark. I won’t let you down.” She turned to me. “Thomas, don’t be discouraged. Even though the project is mine now, you’re still welcome to help with some of the smaller tasks.” “After all, we’re… colleagues.” She paused just long enough to imply something more. As if I’d ever want to go public with her. Did she actually think I was proud of this? Looking back, keeping things quiet was the right call. A woman like that — my family, the Edwards family — was better off not knowing she existed. Mark saw I wasn’t fighting back and pushed harder. “Also, given Thomas’s attitude and conduct issues, his year-end bonus is canceled entirely.” “In addition, a formal written warning will be issued company-wide. This goes on record.” “If anyone disagrees, you’re welcome to hand in your resignation right now.” The coworkers who’d been jealous of me for months looked over with barely concealed satisfaction. No one spoke up. They were all waiting to watch me slink out. I didn’t flinch. I pulled out a vehicle accident liability form. “Fine. I’ll drop the project.” “All I need is a signed acknowledgment that the car damage was caused by you. Once I have that, I won’t even involve the police.” Mark picked up the form and skimmed it. “Thomas, who do you think you’re threatening?” “Call the cops? Go ahead. You think they’ll actually arrest me?” But Aurora grabbed the pen before he could even finish. Her head was full of the commission she was about to earn, the promotion she could already taste. “I’ll sign!” “Thomas is just throwing one last fit. Like this project can’t run without him.” She scrawled her name across the form in quick, decisive strokes. Then, helpfully, she passed the pen to Mark. “Sign it too. Let him give up for good.” “This project is going to be the centerpiece of this department — and it’ll have nothing to do with Thomas.” Mark loved being fawned over. He took the pen without hesitation. “Fine. You want the formalities? I’ll give you the formalities.” “It’s just a used car. The damage is a thousand dollars at most. But once this deal closes, I won’t just be a director anymore.”

I watched these two practically trip over themselves to hand me the project transfer form. I signed it with a smile. These two confident idiots. I couldn’t wait for the day my dad — the company’s CEO — came in for his inspection. I wanted to see how they planned to present a project they couldn’t even open. Over the next few days, the two of them ran themselves ragged trying to prepare. They were too busy to bother harassing me. And on the morning of the CEO’s visit, the vehicle damage assessment landed in my inbox. Mark summoned me with his usual arrogance. “Thomas, go get everyone coffee. I want an iced Americano. Figure out the rest yourself.” “And stay outside once you’re done. A meeting at this level isn’t for someone like you.” Aurora, smoothing out the blazer she’d bought new for the occasion, added sweetly: “Thomas, be good. Stop sulking.” “Once I close this deal, I’ll throw you two hundred bucks as a reward.” I looked at these two clowns and gave a slow nod. “Sure. Though I’d skip the coffee — I have a feeling you won’t be in the mood to drink it.” Mark frowned and started to say something. Then the receptionist burst in, flustered. “Mark! The CEO is here! He’s already in the elevator!” Mark’s expression flipped instantly. A wide, eager smile spread across his face. “Move! Aurora, get the presentation ready. We need to make a strong impression.” “Thomas — get to the storage room and stay there. Don’t let the CEO see you looking like that. You’ll embarrass the whole department.” Aurora gave me a shove toward the corner. I laughed quietly and walked straight into the control room beside the conference room. The meeting began. Aurora opened her laptop with full confidence and connected to the projector. “Mr. Phillips, and distinguished leadership — I’ll now walk you through the core project strategy.” The screen lit up. A giant exclamation mark appeared. File encrypted. Please enter password. Aurora froze. She clicked frantically, sweat breaking out across her forehead. “What… what’s going on? It was fine yesterday…” Under the table, Mark kicked her hard. “The password! Type the password!” Aurora’s hands were shaking. “I don’t know the password! Thomas built this file!” “But I could open it yesterday when I was reviewing the presentation — why won’t it open now?” The air in the conference room turned heavy. My dad’s expression went cold. “This is what you call being prepared?” “You can’t even open your own presentation. Do you think this company is a playground?” “If this deal falls through, whoever is responsible will be personally liable for tens of millions in penalties.” Mark went white. He jumped to his feet and immediately pointed the blame. “Mr. Phillips! This is all that employee Thomas’s doing!” “He’s jealous of Aurora’s abilities. He deliberately locked the file to sabotage us!” “I’ll fire him immediately!” My dad raised an eyebrow slightly. “Oh? Is that so?” “In that case, bring this Thomas in.” “I’d like to see for myself who gave him the nerve.” Mark thought the CEO was going to back him up. He lit up. He shouted toward the door. “Thomas! Get in here!” “Come in here and explain what the hell you’ve done!” The conference room door opened slowly. Every eye in the room turned. I walked in holding the vehicle damage report, set a cup of tea in front of my dad, and said: “Dad. Have some tea. Take a breath.”

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