Category: English

The day I got married in May, I saw a glitch in the air. A line of floating text, shimmering like a live-stream comment, drifted across my vision: [The bride is going to die today!] I blinked, my heart hammering against my ribs, assuming it was a migraine hallucination brought on by the stress of the wedding. I brushed it off. But the moment the reception ended and I stepped out of the hotel, a car appeared out of nowhere. The impact sent me flying. As the world blurred into a haze of red and asphalt, I saw another message hovering above the pavement: [Poor girl. Someone traded a glass of wine for your soul.] Then, darkness. When I opened my eyes again, the smell of expensive lilies and floor wax rushed back into my lungs. I was back. Reborn. I looked up just in time to see my best friend, Helen, walking toward me with a radiant smile, holding a glass of vintage red wine. 1 “Claire! Congratulations, babe! You finally got your fairytale ending with the man of your dreams!” Helen’s voice, sweet as spun sugar, pulled me back into the present. I looked around the ballroom, the realization hitting me like a physical blow: I was really back. “Claire, as your maid of honor, I’m the first to toast to the new Mrs. Miller!” As she held out the glass, the blood in my veins turned to ice. The phantom pain of my bones shattering under the weight of that car hadn’t fully faded. That haunting message flickered in my mind again: [Someone traded a glass of wine for your soul!] My hand shook so violently that when I reached for the glass, I ended up knocking it straight out of her hand. It shattered against the marbled floor, a dark stain spreading across the white rug like a fresh wound. “Claire? What’s wrong? I’m your best friend!” Helen’s eyes welled with tears, her lower lip trembling. The commotion drew Don over immediately. Seeing my ghostly pale face and Helen’s tears, he frowned, his protective instincts kicking in. “Helen, what did you do to upset my wife?” He pulled me into his arms, his grip firm and steady. His eyes were filled with nothing but genuine worry for me. Suddenly, a new comment scrolled across my vision: [The groom seems so devoted. So why did he marry the best friend the second the bride died in the last life?] [Wait, did the best friend really use a glass of wine to steal the bride’s life and her man??] My heart skipped a beat. They were right. Don loved me. We had been together for five years, and he had always been my rock, my fiercest advocate. Even now, without knowing what had happened, he instinctively took my side against Helen. But the thought chilled me to the bone: this man, who supposedly loved me to the point of obsession, had married Helen only two months after my gruesome death. I remembered how he used to say he found Helen “tiring” and “superficial.” I stared at the broken glass on the floor. Helen must have done something. She didn’t just kill me; she used some dark obsession to steal my life. Fuelled by a sudden, sharp clarity, I stepped forward and snatched Helen’s designer clutch from her hand. Ignoring her protests, I dug through it until I found a small, leather-bound journal. In my previous life, I remember seeing her give a journal just like this to Don as a wedding gift when they got married. It had been a chronicle of her secret, years-long pining for him. I realized then that she hadn’t stayed close to me out of friendship. She stayed close to stay near Don. I flipped the journal open, exposing the pages to the crowd, and asked with a cold sneer, “Helen, you’ve been lusting after my husband for years. Is this what a ‘best friend’ does?” Helen turned deathly pale. She lunged for the book, her face a mask of terror. “Claire, no! It’s not like that, please—” She tried to grab my arm, but Don shoved her back. “Get away from her, Helen. You’re pathetic.” Amidst the hushed whispers and judgmental stares of our guests, Helen fled the hotel in tears. As her figure vanished through the revolving doors, the weight on my chest finally began to lift. Don turned to me, his eyes full of remorse. “Claire, I’m so sorry. I should have seen through her sooner. I knew she was off, but I didn’t want to force you to cut ties. I’m so sorry, honey.” I threw my arms around him, overwhelmed by the joy of having him back. “It’s okay. I was the blind one.” I thought I had solved it. I thought Helen was the one who had traded my life away. But as the night ended and I stepped out of the hotel, the same car appeared. The same impact. The same agonizing death. When I opened my eyes again and saw Helen walking toward me with that same glass of wine, my heart didn’t just sink—it screamed. I was back. Again. 2 “Claire! Congratulations, babe! You finally got your fairytale ending…” I didn’t move. I just stared at her face, searching for a crack in the mask. [The bride got hit again! Guess the best friend wasn’t the killer after all. So who is it?] [Wait, if she isn’t the killer, why did the groom marry her?] The comments mirrored my own confusion. I decided to be direct. “Helen, you’re in love with Don, aren’t you?” “Claire… I’m so sorry…” Her eyes filled with tears again, but this time, she didn’t deny it. “That was a long time ago…” Before she could finish, a different glass of red wine was thrust between us. “Claire, happy wedding day! Here, let’s toast to your success.” Helen took the opportunity to slip away. “I’ll let you talk to your guest, Claire. We’ll chat later.” Standing before me was Victor, the Senior VP at my firm. He didn’t wait for me to take the glass; he simply pressed it into my hand. The deep crimson liquid caught the light, looking thick and viscous. [Here we go! This is the second drink of the night!] [Victor and the bride are total rivals. He’s a prime suspect for sure!] I looked at the text and set the glass down on a nearby table as if it were a poisonous snake. “Victor, I’m so sorry. I’ve developed a sudden allergy to alcohol. I can’t touch it.” I had known Victor for six years. We were the CEO’s two right hands, locked in a brutal power struggle for the Managing Director position. Last month, I had effectively ended that war by landing a $300 million contract. The CEO had promoted me on the spot, and Victor had been seething ever since. In my first life, he had stepped into my role the moment I was gone. He hated my guts. If a single glass of wine could get me out of the way and hand him the career he craved, would he hesitate? He didn’t buy my excuse. His eyes darkened with irritation. “An allergy? You didn’t seem to have one last month when you were throwing back shots to celebrate that merger.” I gave him a chilly smile. “Maybe that’s why I developed it. Too much of a good thing.” He stepped closer, his voice low and insistent. “Claire, it’s your wedding day. It’s bad luck to refuse a toast from your partner.” His persistence felt like a threat. I was certain now—this was the drink. I pretended to reach for the glass, but as my fingers brushed it, I “accidentally” swept it off the table. The red wine splashed all over his pristine, white designer suit. “Victor! Oh my god, I’m so sorry! Let me help you.” I grabbed a dirty rag from a busboy’s tray and started scrubbing at his chest. “Claire! Are you kidding me?” He was shaking with rage. “This suit cost five thousand dollars, and you’re rubbing it with a grease rag?” He was too livid to continue the toast. He pushed my hand away and stormed out of the ballroom to find a restroom. A server quickly swept up the glass shards. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. I knew Victor obsessed over his appearance; ruining that suit was the only way to get rid of him. I looked over at Helen, wanting to finish our conversation. But before I could take a step, a car materialized out of thin air and slammed into me again. 3 Everything went black. When I woke up, I was back in the ballroom. The music was playing. The flowers smelled like a funeral. [Tsk tsk… wrong again!] [This is her third reset. If she misses this time, she’s gone for good.] Panic, cold and sharp, took hold of me. One last chance? I racked my brain, replaying every second of the night. I only ever had three drinks in my hand throughout the entire reception. If it wasn’t Helen, and it wasn’t Victor… then it had to be her. I walked toward the head table. Don saw me and took my hand, leading me straight to his mother. “Claire, there you are. Come on, let’s go toast with my mom.” His mother, Judith, was beaming. She handed me a thick envelope. “Claire, dear, a little something for the honeymoon.” At that moment, someone filled my glass. Judith raised hers, waiting for the clink of crystal. I looked at the wine, and my limbs felt like they were filled with lead. In my first life, this was the last drink I ever had. Judith had always been against our marriage because I was four years older than Don. She only relented last month after being diagnosed with terminal stage IV cancer; she didn’t want to die without seeing her son settled. But I remembered something from the first life. After I died, the doctors told her she had been “misdiagnosed.” What are the odds? I die, and she’s suddenly cured? It had to be a trade. My life for hers. I reached for the glass, but my fingers wouldn’t close around it. I didn’t care about the scene anymore. “Judith!” I slapped the glass out of her hand. It shattered. “Stop acting! You did something to the wine, didn’t you?” The ballroom went silent. Every guest turned to stare. “This is the trade, isn’t it? If I die, your cancer goes away! How convenient that you were ‘misdiagnosed’ the moment I was put in the ground!” Judith’s face went from pale to a mottled, angry red. “Claire? What are you talking about? What trade? What cancer?” Don grabbed my shoulders. “Claire, honey, stop. You’re not making sense. My mother would never—” He didn’t finish. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, a red sedan was silently hurtling toward the hotel entrance. The comments above me exploded: [Look out! The car is back!] I tried to run, but my body was frozen, anchored to the floor. [The car appearing means she guessed wrong again!] [But how? If it’s not the friend, the rival, or the mother-in-law… who the hell is left?] The car grew larger in the window. My heart hammered against my teeth. I closed my eyes, waiting for the final crush of metal— And then I saw it. In the corner of the room. The shards of Victor’s glass. Why were they still there? In a flash of lightning, the pieces of the puzzle slammed together. The inconsistencies. The “misdiagnoses.” The way everyone was reacting. They were all lying. I finally knew who had traded my life away. 4 The car, which had been seconds from impact, vanished into thin air. The suffocating pressure in my chest evaporated as the truth set in. I slowly stood up from the floor. The guests were all staring at me, but their expressions had changed. Their faces were identical—blank, expectant masks. They all stood up in unison. They spoke with one voice: “Claire, who is the real killer?” I let out a dry, hollow laugh. “You tell me.” The Helen-construct stepped forward, pointing at Victor. “It’s him. He’s the only one who stood to gain. He took your job, Claire. He took your life’s work. He’s the benefactor.” I shook my head. “No. It wasn’t him.” As the words left my lips, the ballroom began to dissolve. The walls melted away, and suddenly, I was standing in my old office. It was the day after I had been “killed.” The CEO was announcing the search for a new Managing Director. Victor stood up. “I’ll do it,” he said. My former assistant jumped up, her face red with indignation. “Claire worked her life away for this! You can’t just swoop in! Even if she never comes back, she’d hate for you to be the one to take it.” The CEO frowned. “Victor, didn’t you apply for the transfer to the London office?” Victor took his transfer papers out of his pocket and tore them into pieces in front of everyone. “Sir, my capabilities are proven. Claire’s projects are at a critical stage. If I don’t take them over, no one can finish them. They’ll fail.” My assistant sneered. “You just want her commission. You want the glory.” Victor didn’t argue. He just looked at the CEO. I had left behind a $300 million project. If it failed, the firm would owe triple that in liquidated damages. Victor was the only one who could save it. So, the CEO gave him my seat. The Helen-vision hissed in my ear. “See? The motive! He wanted your life!” “Keep watching,” I whispered. The scene fast-forwarded three months. The project was a massive success. At the celebration party, Victor stood on the stage with a microphone. “Everyone in this room knows Claire and I were rivals for six years,” Victor said to the silent crowd. “But what you don’t know is that she was the only person in this industry I truly respected. If we hadn’t been competing, we might have been friends. But being enemies suited us just fine.” He paused, looking at my empty chair. “I took her job, but I’m not a thief. This project was her blood and sweat. Her name stays on the contract. And the seven-figure bonus attached to it? I’ve requested the firm pay it directly to her mother’s estate. I don’t want a dime of it.”

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The night before our wedding, I used my fiancé’s phone to order late-night takeout. A notification from his banking app slid across the top of the screen: Transaction: Grand Hyatt Chicago. $450. Note: “Penthouse, floor-to-ceiling windows.” My heart did a slow, sickening roll. I opened his messages. The top pinned contact wasn’t me. It was a girl—an intern at his firm. The chat history was a graveyard of digital affection: dozens of transfers for $520, $1314, $9999. The most recent message was a voice note from her. I pressed play, my breath hitching. “Last night was all your fault, babe. You were such a beast, I’m actually sore. Think of this as my… recovery fee.” He had replied instantly with a thousand-dollar transfer. Calvin saw the screen. The blood drained from his face, leaving him a ghostly, pathetic grey. He didn’t offer an excuse. He dropped to his knees, the sound of his knees hitting the hardwood echoing in the silent kitchen, and slapped himself—hard—across the face. “Megan, I’m so sorry. I was out of my mind… it was a moment of weakness. Please, ten years… don’t throw away ten years for one mistake.” Ten years. We were high school sweethearts. We had built a life from nothing. Against my better judgment, I felt my spine soften. I nodded, swallowed the bitterness, and stayed. After we married, Calvin became the “perfect” husband. He texted me his location every hour. He left his phone unlocked on the nightstand, inviting me to check. When I got pregnant and left my marketing job to focus on the baby, he transferred ten thousand dollars into my account every month like clockwork. Everyone told me I was lucky. They said a reformed man is worth his weight in gold. Then came the third month of my pregnancy. Calvin left for the office and forgot his work phone. The screen lit up with a notification from Amazon: “Your item [Lace Chemise & Thong Set] is out for delivery.” My fingers trembled as I tapped the order details. The recipient’s name was “Princess Piper.” The same name as the intern from two years ago. … I stood frozen in the hallway, the air in my lungs feeling like shards of glass. I scrolled through the order history. He had bought the same brand of silk nightgown three times—different colors, each one more provocative than the last. There were boxes of expensive condoms and sets of lingerie that I had never seen. The delivery address wasn’t our home. It was an apartment at “The Pinnacle,” a luxury high-rise just blocks from his office. I clicked on the latest product review he’d left. It said: “Fits perfectly. My husband is obsessed.” Attached was a photo of two hands interlocked. I recognized the watch on the man’s wrist instantly. It was a limited-edition Jaeger-LeCoultre I’d given him for his birthday. My hands shook so violently I nearly dropped the phone. I managed to log into his secondary messaging app. What I found there didn’t just break my heart; it incinerated it. It was still her. Piper. Her profile picture had changed. She was no longer the wide-eyed intern; she was wearing a sharp power suit, posing in Calvin’s executive office. She hadn’t been fired after the first time. She’d been promoted. She was his direct report. Their messages were a fever dream of betrayal. Piper had sent a photo of herself in a sheer black lace teddy. Her caption: The battle armor has arrived. Come tear it off me. Seconds later, Calvin sent a location pin for a hotel. At 2:00 AM on a Tuesday, she had messaged: I miss you. His reply was two words: Stay put. Twenty minutes later, he was at her door. On those nights I thought he was sleeping soundly beside me, or when he told me he was “pulling an all-nighter” at the office, he was with her. Every morning I woke up to a “perfect” husband was a lie crafted in the dark. Calvin was a master performer. He’d send me photos of his lunch, tell me he missed me, and swear he’d spend the rest of his life making up for his “one mistake.” I had congratulated myself on being “mature” enough to give us a second chance. But the “purity” of our marriage was a curated exhibit. The burner phone held the truth. Tears blurred my vision, hot and stinging. A new message popped up: “See you at the usual spot, Room 1201. I’m going to make sure you’re very, very full tonight.” The sound of the front door unlocking snapped me back to reality. I slid the phone back onto the console table and wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. Calvin rushed in, his eyes darting to the phone. When he saw it exactly where he’d left it, his shoulders dropped in visible relief. “Forgot my work phone,” he said, breathless, checking for messages. “Important clients, you know how it is.” He turned to leave immediately. I caught his arm, forcing him to look at me. “Are you coming home for dinner?” I searched his eyes for a flicker of guilt, a shadow of the man I loved ten years ago. There was nothing but a smooth, practiced mask of affection. He kissed my forehead, his voice like velvet. “Work is a nightmare lately, baby. I’ve got a late dinner with the board. Go to sleep. Don’t wait up for me.” He had said that a thousand times over the last two years. And every time, I had waited up until 1:00 AM, keeping his dinner warm. I never suspected that his “important clients” were Piper, and the “board meeting” was a hotel room. The door clicked shut. I collapsed onto the sofa. On the coffee table sat a small, heart-shaped cake I’d bought earlier. It said “Happy 2nd Anniversary.” Last night, he’d promised we’d celebrate today. One text from Piper, and he’d forgotten I existed. Maybe because I’d already been through the soul-crushing agony once before, I didn’t stay down for long. I cried until my throat was raw, then I picked up the phone and called a high-stakes divorce attorney. As night fell, I drove to the Grand Hyatt. It took me ten years to love him. It took ten seconds for that love to die. I arrived just in time to see them. Calvin had his arm around Piper’s waist, whispering something in her ear that made her throw her head back and laugh. They looked like the golden couple of Chicago. I checked into the room next to theirs. In the elevator, two room service attendants pushed a cart past me. On it was a delicate chocolate cake and a box of premium condoms. “Room 1201 again?” one whispered. “That’s three times this week.” “Mr. Killian—sorry, the guy in 1201—is a VIP. Always orders the same thing. Always the extra-large box.” I went rigid, my finger hovering over the button for the wrong floor. “Last time I dropped off the towels, the door wasn’t shut tight,” the other girl giggled. “They were right there in front of the window… didn’t even pull the curtains. The girl actually looked at me and winked.” “God, some people have no shame.” “Whatever, he’s loaded. Men like that always have a boring wife at home waiting with a home-cooked meal while they’re out here playing games.” The first girl snickered. “If she can’t keep her man happy, that’s her problem.” The elevator chimed. The penthouse floor. The words felt like a physical assault, stripping away what little dignity I had left. I watched them wheel the cart into 1201. Through the door, I heard Piper’s high, girlish voice. “Oh, Calvin! Another cake? We never finish them.” Calvin’s voice was low, indulgent. “If we don’t finish it, I’ll just take the rest back to Megan. She loves this bakery.” I gripped my purse so hard the leather groaned. Every time Calvin came home from a “late dinner” with a box of leftovers, I’d felt so touched that he’d thought of me. I had eaten her scraps like a starving dog, grateful for the attention. I walked into Room 1203 and shut the door. Almost instantly, my phone rang. It was Calvin. “Hey, honey. Just checking in. How’s the morning sickness? Still bad?” I bit my lip, refusing to let a sound escape. “I’m going to be really late tonight, so don’t wait for me. Get some rest, okay?” In the background, a sharp, rhythmic gasp cut through the silence. “Mmm… Calvin, softer… you’re hurting me…” Calvin muffled the phone, his voice hushed and frantic. “Megan? Sorry, a colleague tripped and twisted her ankle. I’m just helping her with some ice. Talk later?” This time, I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. “Okay,” I said. “Go do what you need to do.” “Love you, baby,” he said before hanging up. He really could split his heart in two. One half to tell me he loved me, the other half to lie beneath a woman ten years younger. I curled into a ball on the floor by the window and finally let the sob break. From high school to college. From prom to the altar. Ten years. We had survived exams, four years of long-distance, and the lean years of living in a studio apartment eating ramen. I had watched him claw his way from a junior analyst to a Vice President. He used to work until his eyes bled. Once, when he had a 104-degree fever, he stayed up all night coding. I had held him and cried, begging him to stop. And he’d told me, “Megan, I’m doing this for us. I’m going to give you the world. I’m going to marry you in style.” The love had been real once. That was the part that killed me. At 8:00 AM, the door to 1201 opened. I stood at the corner of the hallway, watching as Calvin led Piper out, his hand resting possessively on her lower back. “Baby, that Porsche you wanted? We’ll go pick it up after work today.” Piper’s eyes lit up. “The Taycan? Calvin, that’s over a hundred grand. Won’t your wife notice that much missing from your joint account?” Calvin scoffed. “Megan’s a housewife now. I’m the one bringing in the paycheck. She doesn’t have the right to question where the money goes.” I checked my banking app. Half of our savings—my dowry from my parents, my hard-earned commissions from my old job, the college fund I’d started for the baby—it was gone. He’d used it to buy her a condo. He was using it to buy her a car. A wave of nausea hit me so hard I leaned against the wall and gagged. A passing maid hurried over. “Ma’am? Are you alright?” The noise caught their attention. Calvin turned. My hair was a mess, my face pale and puffy from crying. “Calvin, let’s go, I’m starving!” Piper pulled on his arm, her back to me. Calvin’s gaze lingered on me for a fraction of a second—a stranger in a hotel hallway—before he let her pull him into the elevator. He didn’t even recognize his own wife. My phone buzzed. A voice note from Calvin: “Morning, beautiful. I ordered some gourmet breakfast for you; it should be at the door in ten. You’re doing the hard work of growing our baby. I love you.” The irony was a physical weight. I walked out of the hotel and found Piper leaning against my car in the parking lot. She looked at me with pure, unadulterated contempt. “You were in 1203 last night, weren’t you, ‘Big Sister’?” Before I could answer, she smirked. “Since you know, why don’t we have a chat?” We sat in a coffee shop across the street. Piper was a vision of expensive taste: a Chanel bag, a Rolex, a custom-tailored dress. I was wearing a maternity sweater that cost less than one of her buttons. She was more composed than I was. “Do you know why you can’t keep him, Megan?” She leaned in, her voice a poisonous whisper. “Men like variety. You can’t expect him to eat the same steak for ten years and not get bored. You’re the ‘good wife.’ You’re the one who has his kids and keeps his house. Me? I’m the one he actually wants to have fun with. He’d never put you through the ‘misery’ of childbirth if he really cared about your body the way he cares about mine.” I gripped my coffee cup until my knuckles turned white. “He told me you’re ‘virtuous,’” she laughed. “Which is just a nice way of saying you’re boring.” I reached my limit. I threw the scalding coffee directly into her face. Piper screamed, jumping up as the brown liquid ruined her white dress. “You bitch! You think you can touch me?” I didn’t say a word. I raised my hand to slap her, but my wrist was caught in a vice-like grip. Calvin appeared out of nowhere, pulling Piper behind him. His face was a mask of fury I had never seen before. “Megan! Enough!” It was the first time he’d ever used that tone with me. “Are you done making a scene? Go home. Stop embarrassing yourself.” I looked at him, my heart feeling like it was being shredded. “Two years, Calvin. The same girl. You really can’t let her go?” Calvin didn’t deny it. He sat down, his voice chillingly calm. “Megan, you’re my wife. That isn’t going to change. We’re married, we have a child on the way. Stop acting like a child over a side-piece. It’s not that big of a deal.” A small thing? Two betrayals were a “small thing”? He picked up a napkin and began gently dabbing the coffee off Piper’s dress, whispering sweet, soothing words to her while she sobbed into his chest. I don’t remember leaving the cafe. When I came to, I was in Calvin’s car. “I’m taking you home,” he said, his voice tight. “You’re stressed. When you’ve calmed down, you’re going to apologize to Piper.” “Apologize to a mistress? How much of a slut is she that you’re this desperate to protect her?” Calvin slammed on the brakes. My body jerked forward, my head hitting the dashboard with a sickening thud. The world went white with pain. He didn’t check on me. He just roared, “Enough! Megan, haven’t I given you enough? Why are you so obsessed with her? I only like her body. It’s you I love. Why can’t that be enough for you?” I leaned my head against the cold glass of the window. I felt a profound, hollow exhaustion. “Calvin, I want a divorce. I’ll raise the baby alone.” The car was silent for several long seconds. Calvin let out a sharp, mocking laugh and put the car back in gear. “Divorce? With what money? You can’t even afford the hospital bills without me. Sit there and be quiet.” Before I quit, I was a high-earning professional. I was on the partner track. I gave it all up because he said, “I’ll take care of you.” Those words were the greatest trap of my life. Back at the house, I started packing. Calvin ripped the clothes out of my hands and threw them on the floor. “Megan, stop the theatrics. You have no job, no income. Stay put and stop making my life difficult.” He tossed a piece of paper at me. “Piper is coming over tomorrow for her birthday. Here’s the menu. She likes spicy food—make sure you don’t skimp on the seasoning.” “I am not your maid, Calvin.” “You’re the mistress of this house. Cooking is your job.” He walked out without looking back. The next afternoon, Calvin brought Piper and a few of his colleagues over. I came out of the kitchen, drenched in sweat, wearing an apron. One of the male colleagues looked me up and down. “Calvin, your housekeeper is pretty diligent.” Piper giggled, covering her mouth. “That’s not the housekeeper. That’s his wife.” The air in the room curdled. “Oh. Sorry. It’s just… she looks…” They didn’t finish the sentence. She looks like a mess. She looks old. “No wonder Calvin never wants to go home,” someone whispered. “He’s got a plain Jane waiting for him.” Calvin didn’t defend me. He just frowned and leaned in close to my ear. “Go upstairs. You’re embarrassing me.” My hands, holding a tray of appetizers, were shaking. “Go to your room. Don’t come out until they’re gone.” He shooed me away like a disobedient dog. As I shut the bedroom door, a roar of laughter erupted downstairs, followed by the clinking of champagne glasses. A few minutes later, I went back down. “I need you to sign this medical form for the prenatal checkup,” I said, my voice flat. Calvin was annoyed. He grabbed the paper, didn’t even look at it, and scrawled his signature. “Calvin, hurry up! We’re cutting the cake!” Piper called out. He dropped the pen and ran back to her. I looked at the paper in my hand. It wasn’t a medical form. It was the divorce settlement. I took a long, shaky breath of relief. At midnight, the guests left. My bags were already in the trunk of my car. Piper pushed open my bedroom door and leaned against the frame. “Packing, Megan?” She walked in, her eyes landing on our massive, floor-to-ceiling windows. “Calvin and I love it here. Every time you were ‘napping,’ we were right here, against the glass.” She pulled back the curtain and gave me a predatory smile. “He likes the curtains open. Says the risk makes it better. Did you ever wonder why you slept so soundly? It was because he was right behind you.” I looked at her, my skin turning to ice. She pulled out her phone and showed me a photo. It was Calvin, shirtless, holding Piper from behind. They were flushed, disheveled. And in the background, in the very same bed, was me—fast asleep. She scrolled through dozens of them. Different nights. Different positions. The same background: my sleeping form. “He used to put crushed sleeping pills in your nighttime tea,” she whispered. “I love these windows. The moonlight is so romantic…” The blood in my veins turned to lead. Calvin had built this house for me. I had told him I wanted these windows so I could wake up to the sun and sleep under the stars. And he had used that light to betray me while I was drugged and helpless. I didn’t think. I swung my hand and caught her across the face. Then again. And again. Piper screamed, trying to scramble away, but I grabbed her by the hair and slammed her against the glass. “You love the view? Look at it! Look at it until your eyes bleed!” My voice was a primal rasp. I grabbed a heavy wooden chair from the vanity and hurled it at the window with everything I had. CRASH. The tempered glass exploded. The moonlight shattered into a thousand jagged pieces on the floor. Piper fell to the ground, sobbing. “Megan! You’ve lost your mind!” Calvin charged into the room. He grabbed me by the collar of my shirt and threw me away from Piper with all his strength. But the window was gone. I felt my feet leave the floor. I felt the rush of the night air. I was falling. The last thing I heard was Calvin’s voice, a high, desperate scream: “MEGAN!”

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On my wedding day, I was assaulted by my fiancé’s best friend. Afterward, everyone advised me to just let it go. “They’ve been inseparable since childhood with your husband. If you make a fuss, how can you expect him to choose a side?” “Besides, if people find out, what about your reputation?” I didn’t listen to a word. I took them straight to court. On the day of the hearing, however, Ryan tore open their shirt in front of everyone. “Stella, we’re both women.” “Why don’t you tell the judge how I, a woman, could possibly assault you?” I stared at their flat chest, my mind blank. But that day, they clearly had a *tool* for the crime, didn’t they? The courtroom was silent for three seconds. Then it erupted. “A woman?” “So it’s a false accusation?” “I knew it was impossible…” Ryan stood in the defendant’s box, shirt open, their chest binder creating red marks, chest as flat as a board. They didn’t cover up. They even turned sideways, letting Judge Hayes see more clearly. “Judge, Liam and I grew up together. To him, I was always just like a brother.” Ryan forced a smile. “Stella drank too much on her wedding day and insisted on talking to me.” “I helped her to the lounge to lie down, and I was out of there in less than two minutes.” “I don’t know why she’s falsely accusing me.” As they spoke, their eyes welled up slightly. “Perhaps it’s because… Liam is too good to me?” The gallery stirred again. “So this whole thing is about jealousy?” “That’s just too crazy, they’re a woman!” “Some women just can’t stand their husbands being nice to other people…” Judge Hayes rapped the gavel. “Silence.” He looked at me, his gaze complex. “Plaintiff, do you have any response to the defendant’s statements?” What did I have to respond to? I opened my mouth. The scene from that day flooded back. The door locked. I was pressed onto the sofa, my head spinning, figures blurred before my eyes. “You’re so fair, Stella.” It was Ryan’s voice. I felt their hand, their weight, and that *thing*. Cold, hard, pushing inside. I couldn’t be mistaken. “That day…” I clenched my fist. “You had *a device*.” Ryan paused, then burst out laughing. “What *device*? I’m a woman, what would I use…?” They didn’t finish. But everyone understood. Someone chuckled. “Plaintiff, please provide evidence,” Judge Hayes frowned. Evidence. I had the hospital report, which indeed showed signs of intrusion. But the report stated that no traces of semen were detected. At the time, I didn’t think much of it. I thought Ryan had taken precautions. Now I understood. That *thing* wasn’t a biological organ to begin with. “I…” “Judge.” Mr. Davison, Ryan’s lawyer, stood up, cutting me off. “The defendant is female and does not possess the physical means for such an act. If the plaintiff cannot provide evidence, this itself constitutes a false accusation.” “We reserve the right to counter-sue.” Counter-sue. Malicious prosecution. I was now the accuser of a false accusation. “Plaintiff?” Judge Hayes’s voice came. “Do you have anything else to say?” Everyone was looking at me. Ryan was looking at me too. They were too calm. Not like a victim of false accusation. More like they were watching me make a fool of myself. I took a deep breath. “Judge, I request a recess.” “I need to gather additional evidence.” As soon as I spoke, someone in the gallery stood up. It was Liam. “Judge, may I say a few words?” Judge Hayes glanced at him. “And you are?” “The plaintiff’s husband.” He paused. “And also the defendant’s best friend since childhood.” The courtroom fell silent.

Liam stood there, looking at me across the aisle, his brows deeply furrowed. “Stella, Ryan is a girl; I’ve always kept this from you.” “I was just afraid you’d misunderstand.” He sighed, his tone like he was coaxing a child. “If you’re jealous, take it out on me at home, whatever you want.” “But you sued them.” “Today, they publicly unbuttoned their shirt in front of everyone, just to prove their innocence.” He paused, his voice dropping low. “How can they ever show their face in public again?” Someone in the gallery chimed in. “This is really too much. Couldn’t she have talked it out? Why go to court?” “A young woman like that, how will they ever marry now?” “Liam isn’t having it easy either, wife on one side, best friend on the other, how can you expect him to choose?” He seemed not to hear those words. He just looked at me, his gaze full of weariness. “Stella, I don’t blame you.” “But you owe Ryan an explanation.” “Apologize, and we can put this behind us, okay?” His tone was so gentle. So gentle that it made me feel like I was the unreasonable one. But then I remembered. That night, when I was pinned to the sofa, desperately screaming for help. There were footsteps outside the door. They paused. Then walked away. I had always thought it was someone unrelated. Now, looking at Liam’s face. I suddenly remembered the rhythm of those footsteps. It was very familiar. I didn’t answer him. I stared at him. “Liam.” “That night, you passed by the lounge door, didn’t you?” Liam’s expression froze for a moment. “Stella, what are you talking about?” He frowned, his tone confused. “That day at the wedding, I was busy greeting guests in the main hall the whole time. How could I have been near the lounge?” “Are you… mistaken?” He said it so smoothly. So smoothly, it was like he had rehearsed it. “I’m not mistaken.” I stared straight at him. “Your footsteps, I wouldn’t mistake them.” Liam was silent for two seconds. Then he sighed, turning to Judge Hayes. “Judge, may I say a few words?” “Regarding my wife’s… condition.” Judge Hayes nodded. Liam paused, as if choosing his words carefully. “Stella… she’s been under a lot of stress these past six months.” “She started having insomnia before the wedding, and her emotions haven’t been very stable.” He looked at me, his eyes full of concern. “I didn’t want to say anything, for fear of hurting her pride.” “But in her current state…” “I’m afraid something serious might happen to her.” I was stunned. “Last October, I took her to see a doctor.” Liam pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. “This is the diagnosis from that time.” He handed it to Judge Hayes. “The doctor said she has an anxiety disorder, and…” He lowered his voice, but just enough for those nearby to hear. “…a tendency toward paranoid personality traits, prone to delusions.” The gallery instantly erupted. “I knew it, how could a normal person sue a woman…?” “No wonder Liam’s been protecting her; he was afraid she’d have an episode.” “A mental illness, that makes sense then.” I felt cold all over. “I don’t!” I violently pulled away from his hand as he tried to steady me. “Liam, what are you talking about? I never saw any doctor!” Liam didn’t get angry. He just sighed, his gaze growing even gentler. Judge Hayes took the paper and glanced at it. His brows furrowed. I snatched it. Black and white. “Anxiety disorder with paranoid personality traits, medication and psychological counseling recommended.” The signature was from St. Jude’s Medical Center, the most reputable mental hospital in this city. I stared at the paper. My mind buzzed. October 12th last year… I had indeed gone to St. Jude’s Medical Center that day. But not for a psychiatric visit. It was to accompany my dad for his pre-op checkup, and I had a routine physical myself. I had never seen a psychiatrist. This diagnosis was fake. But how could I prove it?

“Judge.” Liam’s voice sounded again, interrupting my thoughts. “I’ve kept my wife’s condition a secret from outsiders, including her own parents.” “I thought if I just took good care of her, she would slowly get better.” He looked up, his Adam’s apple bobbed. “I never expected something like this to happen on our wedding day.” “She might have been under too much pressure, drank alcohol, stopped her medication, and so…” He paused, as if it was difficult to say. “So she had hallucinations.” “Her memory of Ryan helping her to the lounge was twisted in her mind into… another version.” The gallery again buzzed with whispers. Liam took a deep breath, looking at Judge Hayes. “Judge, I’m not here to accuse my wife.” “I just want to take her home, to get proper treatment.” “This lawsuit… can it please end here?” “Please, don’t provoke her any further.” As he spoke, his eyes were red. Only I knew how fake those tears were. Judge Hayes was silent for a few seconds. He looked at me, his gaze complex. “Plaintiff, do you have anything else to say?” I opened my mouth. My throat felt like it was clogged with something. Say what? Say this diagnosis was fake? But it had the hospital’s official stamp and a doctor’s signature. And I had indeed been to that hospital that day. I was speechless. “This case is adjourned.” Judge Hayes rapped the gavel. “The plaintiff must provide additional evidence within seven days, otherwise, it will be considered a withdrawal of the lawsuit.” “Also, given the plaintiff’s questionable mental state…” He glanced at Liam. “It is recommended that family members take her for a medical re-examination as soon as possible and provide a formal mental health assessment report.” Liam immediately nodded, his face full of gratitude. “Thank you, Judge. I’ll take her tomorrow.” He turned and walked toward me, extending his hand. “Stella, let’s go home.” I stared at his hand. On our wedding day, this was the hand that held mine as we exchanged rings. Amidst everyone’s blessings, he kissed my forehead and said, “Stella, I’ll protect you for the rest of my life.” Now, this hand was going to send me to a mental hospital. I stepped back. “Don’t touch me.” Liam’s smile faded for a moment. But he quickly put on his gentle expression again, walking over and grabbing my arm. The grip wasn’t strong, but I couldn’t break free. “Stella, listen to me.” He leaned close to my ear, his voice very low, so only I could hear. “You know how much I love you.” “But in your current state, I have no choice but to send you for treatment.” He sighed, as if genuinely helpless. “Once you’re better, we’ll have another wedding, okay?” I froze. He straightened up, his face once again displaying that deeply affectionate look. “Come on, let’s go home.” I was pulled by him toward the exit. Passing the defendant’s box, Ryan was still standing there. They looked at me, a slight upward curve to their lips. “Stella, take care.” They spoke, their voice very soft, only I could hear. “Next time you want to sue me, remember to get your illness treated first.” That night, I was trending online. #BrideAccusesFemaleOfSexualAssaultAndIsRevealedToHaveMentalIllness# The comment section was full of people cursing me. I turned off my phone, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. Every detail from the courtroom replayed in my mind. Mental illness. Delusions. False accusation. They had everything planned. Even if I screamed it from the rooftops, no one would believe me. The next morning, I went to the hospital to retrieve records. But when I searched, that record was gone. I sat in my car, gripping the steering wheel. Liam could make hospital system records disappear. How far did his influence stretch?

I suddenly remembered something. Last year’s corporate physical examination. It was jointly organized by Sterling Corp. and Brightwood Corp., and Ryan had also participated. The report should still be there. No matter how powerful Liam was, he couldn’t have anticipated that I would check that report. I immediately called Sterling Corp.’s administrative department. “Please retrieve a copy of last year’s corporate physical examination records for me, specifically Ryan’s. Send it over.” Ten minutes later, I received the scanned document. I screenshotted that report and sent it to a doctor friend. “Can you take a look at these results for me? Is there… anything unusual about this person’s condition?” Five minutes later, my phone buzzed. I opened my friend’s reply. I stared at the screen for a long time. Then, I smiled. So that was it. No wonder Ryan dared to unbutton their shirt in court. From the very beginning, they were certain there would be no evidence. I leaned back in my chair, closing my eyes. I couldn’t reveal it directly. If I did now, they would accuse me of slander. I had to make them confess in front of everyone. I picked up my phone and dialed Liam’s number. “I’ve thought it through.” I made my voice sound tired and submissive. “You’re right. Maybe I really was overthinking things.” There was a two-second silence on the other end of the phone. “You… you’ve really thought it through?” “Yes.” I took a deep breath. “I want to hold a press conference to clarify everything.” “This incident has caused such a stir; I need to give an explanation.” Liam clearly breathed a sigh of relief. “Stella, you’re finally being sensible. I’ll have the PR department arrange it immediately.” “How about tomorrow afternoon?” “No problem.” The press conference was scheduled for the ballroom of a five-star hotel. Liam’s PR team was highly efficient, notifying all mainstream media outlets within a day. An hour before the press conference, Liam held my hand. “Stella, just read from the script later, don’t improvise.” He handed me an apology draft. I took it, glancing over the contents. “I understand.” I nodded obediently. Liam smiled in satisfaction, kissing my forehead. “Good girl. After this, we’ll finally live our lives together.” Ryan also came. This time, they wore a white dress, sitting in the front row, looking gentle and harmless. Seeing me, they smiled, their eyes full of triumph. I walked onto the stage, facing dozens of media cameras. I took a deep breath, picking up the microphone. “Good afternoon, media friends.” “Today, I’ve called this press conference to clarify the events of the past few days.” The hall fell silent. All cameras focused on me. “First, I want to thank everyone for your concern.” “During this time, there’s been a lot of discussion online. Some say I made a false accusation, others say I have a mental illness.” I paused. “These words have indeed caused me great pain.” I glanced at the script in my hand. “I want to say I’m sorry to Ryan.” The reporters in the audience began to whisper. “She’s really apologizing?” “Looks like it really was her fault…” The smile on Ryan’s face was now undisguised. Liam also relaxed, leaning back in his chair. “On our wedding day, I did drink too much.” I continued, “My memory might have been skewed…” “So…” I took a deep breath. “So today, I want to clarify the truth in front of everyone.” Liam’s expression changed. I put down the script in my hand. “But before that, I want to ask Ryan a question.” The ballroom was eerily quiet. Ryan’s smile froze. “Stella…” Liam stood up. I ignored him, walking off the stage, step by step toward Ryan. I stopped in front of them. Looking into their eyes. “Ryan.” “In court, you tore open your shirt, and your chest was indeed female; I don’t deny that.” I paused. The entire room held its breath. “But…” I leaned close to them, lowering my voice. “What about your lower body?”

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On the bus home, I suddenly got a message from a Q&A app. “My younger daughter graduated college seven years ago and is still freeloading at home. Should I kick her out?” I tapped on the app, and the comments section exploded. The poster continued to complain. “My younger daughter is 28, has no job, is lazy and stupid. She drives me crazy every single day. How can I force her to leave?” “My older daughter, Sarah, is so successful. When I had my stroke, she got me the best doctors. My younger daughter is useless! I birthed them both, how can they be so different?!” “Sarah’s family is coming home for the holidays, and there’s no room. I’ve already packed my younger daughter’s bags. I hope she gets the hint.” I sighed silently to myself. Good thing my mom, who had a stroke, isn’t like that. Good thing I can make money from home, so I’m not freeloading. The bus announcement sounded, and I got off, carrying my bags. As soon as I got home, I saw suitcases neatly stacked by the entrance. And Sarah’s family sitting on the couch.

The suitcases by the door looked familiar, but I didn’t think much of it. “Sarah, you’re back.” I hadn’t expected Sarah’s family to return so early. After greeting them, I headed toward my room. But Sarah suddenly spoke. “What are you doing?” Her voice was tense, and I stopped. “Just tidying up my room. Usually, when you guys visit, I sleep on the balcony, and you take the bedroom, right?” We only had two bedrooms. Mom and Dad always had one, and Sarah had the other. I always had to make a small bed on the balcony. It wasn’t until Sarah got married and moved out that I temporarily got to use the bedroom. But whenever Sarah came back, I still had to sleep on the balcony. “Chloe, no… no need.” Sarah refused, a hint of guilt in her voice. I assumed Mom had already prepared the room, so I didn’t insist. Turning around, I handed the toy I’d bought to my nephew. “Leo, look, Aunt Chloe bought you a toy!” But the next second, five-year-old Leo threw the toy on the floor. “No! Aunt Chloe is a freeloader, a parasite! I don’t want anything you buy!” My hand froze in mid-air. Instantly, the air in the living room froze. After a few seconds, Sarah chuckled lightly. “Chloe, kids say the darndest things, don’t take it to heart.” Seeing my expression still stiff, Sarah pretended to be angry and lightly slapped Leo’s bottom. “Leo, apologize to Aunt Chloe right now.” Leo immediately burst into tears. Mom, who always doted on her grandson, immediately looked displeased. “Apologize for what? Leo’s not wrong. Your sister just sits at home doing nothing all day, what else would you call it but freeloading?!” My heart was pierced, and I instinctively replied. “Mom, when have I ever freeloaded? I told you, I make money online from editing!” Mom, comforting Leo, grumbled at me. “You call that a job?! I’ve never seen you contribute a single penny to the household, and I still have to support you with my pension. What else would you call it but freeloading?!” Mom’s monthly rehab costs were around $8,000, our living expenses were $1,500, plus other costs, totaling almost $10,000 a month. I took on jobs day and night, but the money I earned each month was barely enough to cover expenses. There was never any extra to give her. It wasn’t until last month, when Mom fully recovered, that I finally had a little savings. A wave of injustice washed over me. “Mom, your pension is $2,000. You give Sarah $1,200 a month and me $300. Do you really think our mother-daughter living expenses are covered by just $300?” Hearing this, Mom impatiently cut me off. “Sarah has a tough life in the city, what’s wrong with me helping her out financially? If you’re so capable, go get a job in the city too.” “And you’re complaining about $300? I think you’re just after my pension!” I never imagined that seven years of meticulous care would, in Mom’s eyes, become a calculated move. My heart turned cold inch by inch, watching her in disbelief. “Mom, have you forgotten? I was working in New York, and I was about to get a promotion and a raise. You had a stroke and pleaded with me to come back.” “I hired caregivers for you, but you drove three of them away, insisting I had to come back…” Mom coldly interrupted me. “Enough, Chloe. I was just sick and needed you to take care of me for a bit. Do you really need to keep bringing it up?!” That “bit” Mom mentioned? It was the most precious seven years of my life. A bitter ache spread through my heart. “Besides, isn’t it normal for children to care for their parents? Why else would I have raised you?!” My eyes welled up, looking at her, unwilling to give in. “If that’s the case, why didn’t you let Sarah come back to care for you then? Why did you even make me keep it a secret from her?” When Mom had her stroke, she was partially paralyzed and hospitalized for six full months. Every morning, I’d help Mom with her daily routine – washing, eating, sponge baths, changing clothes, medication, turning her over, and physical therapy… In the scorching summer, to prevent bedsores, I’d get up seven or eight times every night to turn her. Finally, I collapsed from exhaustion and had to call Sarah, only to be met with Mom’s grumbling. “Sarah is busy with work, why are you bothering her? You’re so inconsiderate!” … Now, faced with my distress, Mom’s eyes held only disdain. “How dare you compare yourself to Sarah? Why don’t you compare who’s more successful?” “Besides, when Sarah found out, didn’t she immediately arrange for me to go to the best rehab hospital and have specialists consult on my case? How else could I have recovered so well?” “With your clumsy hands, who knows how long I would have been stuck in bed?!” As soon as she finished speaking, Sarah’s eyes darted away, a flicker of guilt crossing her face.

My heart gradually cooled, and I just stared intently at Sarah. “Was it you who arranged it, Sarah?” I had booked that specialist at the rehab hospital three months in advance. I even paid an extra $300 to a fixer to rush the appointment. But I never told Mom any of this. “Sarah, Mom’s monthly $8,000 rehab fees, you didn’t pay those either, did you?” I stared at Sarah. “If not Sarah, then who? You?” Before she could answer, Mom interrupted again. Sarah managed a stiff smile. “Chloe, these are… minor things, not worth… mentioning.” Hearing this, Mom again looked at me with displeasure. “Chloe, can’t you learn from your sister? You only took care of me for a few years, put in some effort, and you keep bringing it up all the time.” “Your sister contributed both money and effort, and she doesn’t complain at all. If I’d known you were so useless, I wouldn’t have bothered giving birth to you!” Finally, my last shred of reason was shattered. I rushed back to my room, intending to retrieve all the medical bills and payment records from the past seven years to prove my capabilities. But the moment I pushed open the door, I froze. All my things were gone from the room. I stood stunned for two seconds, then turned to Mom’s room. My things weren’t there either. I slowly backed out, my gaze falling on the suitcases by the entrance. Suddenly, I remembered the post I’d seen on the bus. Those weren’t Sarah’s bags for coming home. They were Mom’s signal to kick me out. I felt like plunging into an ice pit, unable to snap out of it for a long time. Until Mom’s calm voice rang out. “Sarah’s family is back, there’s no room. You should move out for now.” “It’s good, you need to learn to be independent. I don’t want to always have a daughter freeloading.” Seeing I still hadn’t reacted, Sarah spoke again. “Chloe, David and I are planning to start a business back home. You’ve taken care of Mom for so long, you can trust us to take over now.” “Don’t worry, we’re still family. You have to come home for Christmas dinner, okay?” Hearing this, Mom disagreed. “Forget it, Chloe. This year, I don’t want relatives gossiping about me because of you again.” “Just let us have a peaceful holiday as a family.” So they were the family, and I was just an outsider. So Mom always thought I was an embarrassment. I gave a mocking laugh, utterly heartbroken. “Fine, I’ll go.” Hearing this, both of them visibly relaxed. “But from now on, Mom and I have nothing to do with each other.” Sarah froze, her voice trembling. “Chloe, what… what do you mean?” I twitched my lips. “Since Mom thinks having me as a daughter is such an embarrassment, then let’s just pretend she never gave birth to me.” As soon as I finished speaking, Mom shot up from the couch. “Chloe, you… you… what do you mean? Are you disowning me?!” I looked at her coldly. “Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?” Mom was furious. “Good! I wish I never had a daughter like you!” “From this day forward, I have nothing to do with you ever again!” I said nothing, just dragged my suitcase out the door. Downstairs, Sarah ran after me, breathless.

“Chloe, don’t blame Mom. She just wanted to push you a little. How could you really cut ties with her?” “You’re old enough now, you should find a job. Staying home all the time isn’t right.” Listening to Sarah’s seemingly caring words, I gave a cold laugh. “Sarah, when I quit my job to care for Mom, didn’t you praise me for being so devoted?” “After Mom was out of danger, I suggested hiring a caregiver and splitting the costs between us sisters. Didn’t you say a hired caregiver wouldn’t be as devoted as her own daughter? Didn’t you tell me not to work and to keep taking care of Mom?” Sarah’s face stiffened, her lips trembling for a long time, unable to utter a single word. “Seven years, a full seven years. When Mom was bedridden and unable to care for herself, did you ever feed her a single meal, or empty her bedpan even once?” “You graduated from a prestigious university, worked for an international company, earning hundreds of thousands, but you wouldn’t even pay Mom’s monthly $4,000 rehab fees. What right do you have to accuse me?” Sarah’s face flushed crimson. “I… I have… my own family, you know.” I gave a cold laugh. “So, you can righteously abandon your sick mother, yet claim all the credit for yourself?” Sarah’s face turned beet red. I continued. “Sarah, more than Mom’s blatant favoritism, I despise your hypocrisy!” “But since you want to play the devoted daughter, then play it well. Don’t let anyone see through your hypocritical facade!” With that, I dragged my suitcase away. The moment I turned, tears I had suppressed for so long spilled out. The biting wind felt like knives against my skin, but it couldn’t compare to the pain in my heart. Just then, my phone buzzed. That post from earlier had been updated. Every word oozed with the poster’s happiness. “Alright, I’ve kicked my younger daughter out. This year, we can finally have a joyful holiday!” I tapped on the poster’s profile. The background image was a picture of my nephew’s back. I silently wiped away my tears and took my suitcase to a nearby convenience store. I picked up a cup of instant noodles and a hot dog. After checking out, I quietly calculated my account balance. After buying holiday essentials, I only had $3,000 left. I needed to find a job and start before the holidays, otherwise, in another week, all companies would be on break. I pulled out my phone and called Lily, my best friend. “Lily, you said your company was looking for an editor, could I try?” “Chloe, you finally came to your senses?! You wouldn’t believe how impressed my boss was with your previous edits.” “But, it’s almost the holidays, why are you suddenly looking for a job? Aren’t you always worried about your mom?” Lily asked hesitantly. A faint ache throbbed in my heart. I swallowed all my emotions and slowly spoke. “My mom kicked me out.” After a few seconds, Lily’s indignant voice came from the other end. “What?! Chloe, how could your mom do that to you?!” I managed a bitter smile. “She said I was freeloading at home all day with no job, and she couldn’t hold her head up in front of others. Plus, Sarah’s family was coming home for the holidays, and there was no room, so she kicked me out.” “‘Freeloading’? You edit videos day and night, earning two or three thousand a month, and she calls that freeloading? What if Sarah’s successful? From the moment Mom got sick until now, she hasn’t contributed a single penny or a single bit of effort!” “If it weren’t for you, paying and putting in all the work to care for her, how could Mom’s stroke recovery have been so good?!” Lily grew angrier as she spoke. “Chloe, why didn’t you explain? You did all the work, how did the credit go to Sarah?! Your mom is too biased!” I took a deep breath, calming the indignation in my heart. “It’s no use. She wouldn’t believe me.” “Forget it, we have nothing to do with each other anyway. Now I can pursue my own life without any strings attached.” There was a moment of silence on the other end, then a sigh. “You’re such a fool. So, when are you coming to New York?” I thought for a few seconds. “Give me a day to get some good sleep. I’ll be in New York the day after tomorrow.” After chatting with Lily for a bit, I hung up. Immediately after, I booked a plane ticket. Just then, messages popped up in the family group chat. Mom had posted a picture of herself eating seafood. “My older daughter is so good, she takes me out for lavish meals as soon as she’s back.” Immediately, relatives in the group chat chimed in. “Sarah is so successful, well-educated, and has a great job! She’s truly the pride of our family!” “Exactly, Eleanor, you’re so lucky! To have such a wonderful daughter!” “I always tell my granddaughter to learn from Sarah, not Chloe…” The relative’s words trailed off. I knew that because my education wasn’t impressive and I didn’t have a “proper” job, relatives had always looked down on me. “That’s right, don’t learn from Chloe, freeloading at home at her age.” “And always going on about not getting married or having kids, she should look at herself, what right she has to be so picky. She’s an embarrassment to me, but thankfully, from now on, I only have Sarah as a daughter! I won’t have to feel ashamed because of her anymore!” Mom finished the relative’s unspoken words. Her tone was full of disdain. I said nothing, just quietly left the group chat.

I ate my instant noodles completely, not even leaving a drop of broth. After eating, I found a motel, checked into a room, and took a hot shower. Before getting into bed, I turned off all the alarms on my phone. 6:30 AM: Prep breakfast for Mom; 7:00 AM: Give Mom her medicine; 8:00 AM: Take Mom to physical therapy; 10:00 AM: Cook lunch; … 8:00 PM: Massage Mom; 10:00 PM: Help Mom with her nighttime routine… For seven years, my life was filled with alarm bells. Now, I could finally get some proper sleep. After doing all this, I turned off my phone, snuggled under the covers, and comfortably drifted off to sleep. I woke up a full day and night later. I packed my luggage and headed to the airport. While waiting for my flight at the airport, I idly scrolled through my SnapChat feed. I happened to see Sarah’s latest post. “Today, I personally cooked all of Mom’s favorite dishes.” The dining table was incredibly lavish: pot roast, creamy mashed potatoes, fried chicken, bacon, a rich lasagna… Mom’s bowl was piled high with rich, high-fat, high-sodium foods. My brow furrowed. After Mom’s stroke, the doctor specifically warned her to eat less high-fat, high-sodium foods to prevent another stroke. I instinctively left a comment, “Seniors should eat lighter.” Three seconds later, Sarah replied with a crying emoji. Immediately after, Mom’s voice message came through. I tapped it open, and a harsh, shrill voice filled my ears. “Chloe, who told you to criticize your sister?! Are you jealous of me living well, is that it?!” “When I was with you, I ate bland food every day. Sarah came back and felt sorry for me, giving me good nutrition. What’s wrong with that?” “You’re such a killjoy! Besides, we’ve cut ties, why are you still bothering with me?!” I took a deep breath, about to type an explanation. But the next second, a red exclamation mark appeared after my message. It was glaring. Mom had blocked me. I scoffed at my own foolishness. Just then, the boarding announcement sounded. I grabbed my bag, passed through security, and from that moment on, I had no connection to that city anymore. A few hours later, I arrived in New York. Lily came to pick me up and took me straight to the company. After the interview, I signed the contract on the spot. I immediately breathed a sigh of relief. “Chloe, you can stay at my place first. Once your probation period is over, you can move out.” After leaving the company, Lily spoke directly. I was about to politely decline, but she pulled me into her car. “It’s fine, Chloe. I also started out struggling in the big city.” With that one sentence, I knew she understood my predicament. I no longer hesitated, but that day, I sent her a $1,500 e-red envelope via PayPal. After that, I completely said goodbye to my past, throwing myself into work, even applying for overtime during the holidays. Soon, the holiday break began, and I was the only one left in the office. My SnapChat feed was filled with photos of family reunions. Only I went to and from work, and ate, alone every day. Though it was a bit lonely, my heart was incredibly peaceful. Eight days later, the company reopened. Lily often took me out to dinner with her friends, and my life gradually became more lively. Just as I thought my life would continue this way, the day after Valentine’s Day, I received a call from Sarah. Her voice on the other end was frantic. “Chloe, it’s terrible! Mom had another stroke and is in critical condition, hurry back!”

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On Christmas Eve, I stood in the yard, holding a tube of fireworks, watching Chloe slowly light the fuse. “Chloe, do you have any wishes for the new year?” I asked, smiling. Chloe leaned against the wall, taking a nonchalant puff from her cigarette. “You’re the one who should be making new year wishes.” I blinked. “Why?” “You were switched at birth. Mom and Dad are already making arrangements to bring Ethan home.” She flicked off the ash. “Wish you don’t get sent back to some remote place.” My world suddenly went silent. In the distance, fireworks still bloomed, and children’s laughter faintly drifted over. I opened my mouth, but the words got stuck in my throat. What I actually wanted to say was: Chloe, my wish is that when I die, Mom, Dad, and you won’t be sad. Now, my wish was about to come true. But why did my chest hurt so much? “Do you think I’m lying?” Chloe pulled a folded piece of paper from her pocket and unfurled it in front of my eyes. The fireworks were bright, and I clearly saw the line of text: Liam Hayes has no biological kinship with Mr. and Mrs. Hayes. She pulled out her phone, and the screen lit up, displaying a photo of a boy. His eyes and brows were so much like Mom’s; his smile was identical to hers. “I overheard them in the study today. They’re already discussing sending you away.” Chloe saw my stunned expression and scoffed. “What, scared stiff? They won’t just abandon you. The Hayes family isn’t so poor they can’t afford to keep someone around.” I remained frozen in place. I used to think I was the happiest kid in the world. A wealthy family, loving parents. When I was twelve, I said I wanted a piano, and the next day, a Steinway stood in the living room. When I was fifteen, I casually mentioned wanting to see the Northern Lights, and that winter break, the whole family flew to Iceland. On my eighteenth birthday, Mom cried, saying she hated to see me grow up, and Dad gave me a small apartment downtown. I could easily get anything I wanted, including everyone’s affection. Except for Chloe’s. As long as I could remember, she had hated me. When I was little, I’d bring her my perfect test papers for her to sign, and she’d roll her eyes, saying, “What are you showing off for, brat? Go away, don’t bother me.” When I choked on water while learning to swim, she’d sneer, “Who are you putting on a show for? No one cares if you drown, so just keep flailing.” When I received my first love letter, she tore it up in front of me and tossed it into the trash. “Oops, my bad, I thought it was scrap paper.” Mom always said, “Your sister just acts tough, but she’s really soft-hearted.” Dad would sigh beside her, “She feels like you stole our love. She’s just childish; don’t mind her.” But I felt that Chloe genuinely hated me, hated me so much that she never gave me a kind look, hated me so much that she wished I would disappear from her life. Even so, I would follow her everywhere. I’d watch her play games, I’d secretly cook noodles for her when she stayed up late, and I’d prepare her birthday gift three months in advance. I thought, one day, Chloe would smile at me. A few days ago, I had a stomachache and went to the hospital for a check-up. The doctor held my report and told me. “Late-stage pancreatic cancer, it’s already metastasized. At this point, a cure is unlikely. With aggressive treatment, you might have six months.” I was stunned for a long time, then asked, “What if I don’t get treatment?” “Around three months.” I originally wanted to tell Chloe this secret first. She hated me so much, she definitely wouldn’t be sad for me, which was good—I hated seeing people cry the most. But now, they were no longer my family, and Chloe wasn’t my sister. Saying it now would just make me seem self-pitying. So, I kept silent.

Chloe stubbed her cigarette out on the wall, looking at me playfully. “You’re not going to be unable to accept reality and hang yourself in your room tonight, are you?” “If you’re going to die, do it at your own place. Don’t ruin our property value.” She always spoke so cuttingly. Before, no matter what she said, I would always laugh and try to get closer to her. But this time, I said nothing. I had once imagined a happy passing, surrounded by my parents. My only regret was not having a good relationship with Chloe. But now, I was about to lose all the family I loved most. “Aren’t you going to say your New Year’s wish?” Chloe pulled a small box from her pocket. “Since you look so pathetic, I’ll indulge you this year. I’ve got a little trinket for you—” I ignored her and ran off. Back in my room, I buried myself under the covers. I didn’t want to cry out loud, just bit the corner of the duvet and sobbed, my chest aching. In the dead of night, I was half-asleep, half-awake, burning with fever. I clearly heard my parents’ conversation outside the door. “In a couple of days, we’ll send Liam back. He’s been occupying our son’s life for too many years.” That was Dad’s voice. “I always thought he didn’t look like either of us.” Mom’s voice sharpened. “Look at him, he can’t learn anything well. Eight years of piano lessons, and he can’t even play a full Chopin Nocturne. Painting, dance—what is he good at? All these years, he’s had an elite education, yet he’s still not as exceptional as our Ethan. Hmph, it’s truly a base streak in his genes, just like his real parents.” “Forget it, we won’t send him back,” Dad said. “We’ve raised him for so many years; he should contribute something to our family.” “Go see if any families are looking for a marriage alliance. We can marry him off for some benefit. Doesn’t Mr. Harrison have a daughter? Even if she has some issues, we can ask for a smaller dowry.” I wanted to cry and beg them to stop. Please, stop. Why did fate have to make me learn all this right before I died, shattering my beautiful dream? But my limbs were stiff, I couldn’t move, couldn’t fully wake up. My body felt nailed to the bed, my consciousness floating. They never loved me after all. All that tenderness, all that doting, was just for the “Hayes family’s golden boy” identity. Now that the real one was back, I, the impostor, had to exit the stage, preferably after being squeezed for every last drop of value. A moment later, the door opened. A cool hand rested on my forehead. “Whoa, such poor coping skills. This little bit of news scared you into a fever. Should’ve known not to tell you.” Her voice held its familiar mockery. I wanted to retort: I’m sick, not weak! But I couldn’t make a sound, only a faint gasp escaped my throat. “Why are you so delicate? You’re not the golden boy anymore, so stop acting like a spoiled brat.” She half-hugged me, her movements unexpectedly gentle. With her other hand, she held a cup, and the bitter medicine was poured into my mouth. I frowned, wanting to spit it out, but she pinched my chin and made me swallow. “Swallow it,” she commanded. Then I heard Mom say, “Is Liam sick? Why didn’t he call the family doctor?” My heart warmed. Mom still cared about me; I knew she wouldn’t completely stop loving me. Then she spoke again, “I’ve arranged a blind date for him in a couple of days. What if he looks sickly and they don’t want him?” So that’s how it was. I thought I would cry, but I was surprisingly calm. Maybe it was because I was going to die soon. Once a person dies, everything dissipates, so nothing really matters anymore. Chloe put me back on the bed and tucked me in. She stood by the bed for a while. My eyes were closed, but I could feel her gaze. “Such a pain,” she finally said, and her footsteps receded, the door closing softly.

Two days later, Mom and Dad called me to the living room. They sat on the sofa, their expressions normal. Mom even waved gently at me, “Liam, come, sit with Mom.” I almost thought everything I’d heard was just a nightmare from my fever. But the dream quickly shattered. “Liam, ask Maria to help you get ready. Mom bought you new clothes, go try them on.” Mom smiled gently, pointing to a paper bag on the coffee table with a luxury brand’s logo. “For your future happiness, Mom and Dad have arranged a few blind dates for you this afternoon. They’re all from good families; go meet them.” Dad echoed, “That’s right, you’re twenty now; it’s time to think about your future.” I looked at their smiling faces and suddenly felt utterly alienated. “Is this really for my happiness? Or are you trying to sell me off?” I heard my voice tremble. Mom paused, then looked at Chloe, who was leaning nonchalantly by the window. “Did you tell him about his identity?” Chloe stood with her hands in her pockets, gazing at the snow outside. “He was going to find out eventually. What’s the point of hiding it?” The smile vanished from Mom’s face. She looked at me, her eyes cold and arrogant. “True.” She stood up and walked towards me. “Since you already know your identity, then you should also know that we can’t let you enjoy twenty years of our son’s life for free.” Her voice was hard. “All those lessons, all those resources, they rightfully belonged to our biological son.” Dad also walked over, standing beside Mom. “Ethan suffered for twenty years out there, while you enjoyed twenty years of fortune in our home. That’s not fair.” “This is the price you have to pay.” Mom said, word by word, “You owe him, you owe the Hayes family.” These words made my head spin; I could barely stand. A sharp pain shot through my abdomen, my legs buckled, and I fell to the floor. My forehead hit the corner of the coffee table, and warm liquid trickled down. Mom instinctively took two steps forward. “What’s wrong with you?” But she quickly stopped, the concern in her eyes fleeting, replaced by suspicion. Chloe walked over and helped me into a chair. “Such a pain. Why are you so weak? Are you still feverish?” Mom sneered, “He was full of life just two days ago. Yesterday, he heard Ethan was coming home and started faking illness. It’s just his rotten nature; what kind of cheap sympathy trick is he playing?” She walked over, her heels clacking coldly on the tile floor. Then she raised her hand and slapped me hard. “SLAP!” A sharp sound echoed in the living room. I fell to the ground, my ears ringing, my cheek burning. I struggled to grab her sleeve. “Mom, I’m not faking it. I’m really sick…” She disgustedly kicked my hand away. “Don’t call me Mom! I only have one son, Ethan!” Dad called for Maria. “Drag him out. Search him for anything valuable. From today on, he’s no longer a Hayes.” Two housekeepers came over, grabbing me by each arm. I struggled, but I was too weak from illness. They started stripping off my coat, taking my jewelry, and snatching my bag. I desperately clutched the watch on my wrist. It was a birthday gift Chloe gave me when I was fifteen. It was the only gift she ever gave me—a wristwatch studded with tiny diamonds, with “LM” (my initials) engraved on the inside of the dial. The housekeeper forcibly pried my hand open, snatched the watch, and put it on her own wrist. “Let you experience the hardship Ethan went through,” Mom said, looking down at me with icy eyes. “When your bad habits are gone, then you can come back!” I was dragged out the door. The heavy wooden door closed behind me with a dull thud.

Outside the door, I desperately cried out, “I didn’t mean to bully him! I just lost my footing!” The door didn’t open. I pounded on the door, my hands quickly turning red and numb from the cold. Finally, I gave up. Turning around, I stumbled through the snowy night. My house slippers quickly soaked through; the snowmelt seeped in, freezing my toes until they were numb. I walked aimlessly, not knowing where to go. For the first time in twenty years, I realized that outside the Hayes family, I had nowhere to go. The pain in my abdomen started again, more intensely this time. I crouched by the roadside, curled into a ball, trying to ease the pain. After who knows how long, I stood up and continued walking. I had to go home, I had to explain clearly that I wasn’t faking illness, I was truly sick, I didn’t want the people I loved most to misunderstand me… I went to the family company. Every time I came before, the receptionist would smile and call me “Mr. Liam,” and the security guard would respectfully open the door. Now, they stopped me at the entrance. “Mr. Hayes… no, sir, you cannot enter.” The receptionist’s eyes darted away. “Mr. Hayes (senior) gave instructions not to let you in.” I went to the convenience store on the corner and borrowed the public phone. My fingers were so numb they wouldn’t cooperate; it took several tries to dial the right numbers. I called Mom first. A long busy signal, then it automatically hung up. Then I called Dad. The same result. Finally, relying on memory, I called Chloe. I had never called her before; I’d seen her number accidentally once and couldn’t quite remember it. After a few beeps, the call connected. I surprisingly felt like crying, my voice thick with tears. “Chloe, can I come home? It’s so cold outside, and I feel terrible…” A stranger’s voice came from the other end, an old woman. “Child, you’ve dialed the wrong number, haven’t you?” I hastily apologized, hung up, and left the convenience store. The shopkeeper looked at me with pity. I lowered my head, afraid to meet his gaze. Sitting on a park bench by the road, I curled up. My stomach hurt terribly. I clutched my abdomen, cold sweat beading on my forehead, yet I felt feverish in the cold wind. Just then, someone hugged me. I looked up and saw an older woman in a worn-out winter coat. She looked to be in her fifties, her face etched with deep wrinkles. But her eyes were so gentle, so gentle they made me want to cry. “Liam, it’s Mom,” she choked out, her rough hand stroking my cheek. “I’m your biological mother, we’ve been looking for you for so long…” She looked very shabby, her winter coat’s cuffs shiny from wear, its color faded. My mind was a jumbled mess, but her embrace was so warm. In that moment, I clung to that warmth, like a drowning person grasping at driftwood. I buried my face in her shoulder and sobbed uncontrollably, crying out all my grievances, fears, and pain. “There, there, don’t cry anymore, Mom will take you home,” she patted my back. I had a home again. She took me back to her home, a small, worn-out but clean bungalow. “You rest here for now, Mom will go get you something to eat.” She tucked the blanket around me, her eyes gentle. “Look at your pale face, you must be frozen, dear?” I sniffed, lying quietly under the covers. My stomach hurt badly, but I didn’t say anything. I was afraid that if I did, this little bit of warmth would also disappear. She left for a while and didn’t return. I needed to use the restroom. Struggling to get up, I realized there was no bathroom inside; I had to go to the outhouse. As I reached the door, I heard her talking to another man, just outside.

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I was a child from a single-parent home. Mom always said I was her hope, bought at the cost of half her life. To pay for my ridiculously expensive prep courses, she worked three jobs a day. Her hands were raw and cracked, she wouldn’t even splurge on a pair of socks for herself. Our walls were plastered with ‘Straight A’s or Else!’ posters, making the whole place feel like a prison. I got a 99% on my final exam, the highest score in the entire school. When I got home, all I wanted was five minutes of sleep on the couch. The moment Mom saw my eyes close, she instantly tore my test paper to shreds. Her scream pierced my eardrums: “I slave away to support you, and you have the nerve to sleep? Where did that point go? You’re bleeding me dry!” She lit the curtains like a maniac, threw all my books into a fire pit, and locked the front door. “You want to sleep, huh? Wake up in this fire! If you don’t get a perfect score, we’ll die together!” Thick smoke filled my nostrils. I watched Mom’s twisted face in the flickering flames and stopped calling for help.

The flames shot up the synthetic curtains like a greedy red snake, licking at the countless award certificates plastered all over the walls. The edges of those certificates curled, blackened, and fell as ash. It was like a black snow. Mom had already retreated outside the door. She was frantically pounding on the steel door, even kicking it. Not to save me, but to make me give in. “Ashley! Do you understand what you did wrong?” “Tell me loudly, will you get a perfect score next time?” “Say it! Say it, and I’ll let you out!” Her voice, muffled and shrill through the metal door, sounded like nails scraping a chalkboard. I huddled by the couch in the corner, the intense heat causing a strange, phantom pain on my exposed skin. My throat seized up from the thick smoke, each breath like swallowing burning coals. I wanted to speak, but no sound came out. Even if it could, I wouldn’t say anything. I was too tired. Honestly, just too tired. I remembered half an hour ago, I just wanted to lie on the couch for five minutes. Just five minutes. To prepare for this test, I hadn’t touched my bed in three days, so tired I felt like I was floating when I walked. But now, it was so hot around me, yet I felt a cold shiver deep inside. I saw the shredded 99% test paper curl in the fire pit, that bright red “99” turning into a heap of black ash. I thought about going to the bathroom to wet a towel. My survival instinct made me move my leg. Then I saw the empty doorframe. The bathroom door? Mom had ripped it off last month. She said I took too long in there, probably secretly reading novels or hiding from vocabulary drills. How was I supposed to hide with no privacy at all? And now, the water source was on the other side of the inferno. The fire was too big; Mom had poured alcohol on it to fuel it earlier. I couldn’t get through. I leaned back against the corner, watching the flames devour my desk. It was my battlefield, and my execution ground. Now, let it all burn. The pounding outside the door continued, accompanied by loud kicks. “Ashley, you’re being stubborn, huh?” “Not going to talk, huh?” “Fine, let’s see how long you can last!” “You ungrateful brat! Even a dog knows how to wag its tail. I should’ve gotten a dog instead of you!” I’d heard those words for seventeen years. As long as I could remember, they were served with every meal. Before, I would cry, I would beg her on my knees, I would swear I’d get a perfect score next time. But today, I didn’t want to kneel. Rather than crawl out to face her yelling, to face the endless practice questions, to face her perpetually disappointed eyes. I’d rather just sleep here. My consciousness began to fade. My body felt so heavy, like it was filled with lead, yet also like I was floating on clouds. Finally, I could rest. Even on the scorching floor. Even surrounded by deadly toxic smoke. Through the door crack, it was no longer air seeping in, but her desperate, screaming curses. “Why don’t you just die! You’re a waste of space just living!” Mom, as you wished. I’m really going to die. In the last blurry moment of my vision, I saw a corner peeking out of my backpack’s side pocket. That small, silver tin box. It was the hand cream I’d saved three months of breakfast money to buy. I wanted to put it on her hands, those hands covered in cracks. I wanted to tell her, Mom, I feel for you too. But there was no chance now. Darkness surged like a tide, completely engulfing me. I closed my eyes in the raging fire, with a light smile. This sleep, finally, no one could wake me from.

My soul seemed to float upwards. It was light, cool, weightless. I floated on the ceiling, looking down at the small body curled up below. It was dark, like a piece of burnt charcoal. The commotion outside the door grew louder. Mr. Peterson, our neighbor, smelled smoke and was frantically slamming the door with a fire extinguisher. “Open up! Quick, open up! Eleanor, what are you doing?” “Can’t you see there’s a fire in there? The kid is still inside!” But Mom clung to the doorknob, like a wild animal guarding its kill, hair disheveled, eyes bloodshot. “Don’t interfere! This is my family business!” “She’s reflecting! She hasn’t begged for mercy, so she hasn’t learned her lesson yet!” “None of you are getting in! If she gets spoiled, how will she get into college? How will she ever make something of herself?” Mr. Peterson’s face turned purple with rage. He shoved her away. “You’ve lost your mind! Someone’s going to die!” Mom stumbled but still screamed, “She won’t die! She’s just faking it! That brat is such an actress!” “Last time she had a 104-degree fever, she was just faking it to get out of vocabulary drills!” The hallway was in chaos. Someone called 911, others were trying to break up the fight. Mom was being held back, still cursing. “What are you calling 911 for? Who dares to call 911?” “If you break the door, are you going to pay for it? That security door costs over two thousand bucks!” “Ashley! Get out here! Don’t think you’ve won just because I won’t go into the fire!” I looked at her twisted face, feeling no ripple of emotion inside. Before, seeing her angry would make me tremble. Now, I just found it pathetic. The firefighters arrived. Their orange uniforms stood out starkly in the hallway. Hydraulic cutters brutally sheared through the deformed security door. “Pfft—” High-pressure water hoses blasted in, and billows of white smoke poured out. The choking smell of smoke permeated the entire hallway. Mom collapsed on the floor, letting out a cold scoff. “Oh, you’ve gotten so clever, learning to team up with strangers to scare your own mother with fire.” “When she comes out, I’ll break her legs.” The fire was put out quickly. After all, the apartment wasn’t big, and there wasn’t much to burn. The room was a mess. The once pristine white walls were now black as ink. All the ‘Perfect Score,’ ‘Ivy League,’ ‘Top University’ slogans plastered on the walls were gone, burned away. Only mottled black ash remained, like mocking ghost faces. The firefighters entered the room. A few minutes later, two firefighters emerged, their faces grim, carrying something. It was my body. Curled, charred, stiff. To protect the backpack in my arms, my posture was strange, like a shrimp boiled alive. The neighbors gasped, some aunts covered their mouths, tears streaming down their faces. The air was deathly still. Only the lingering smoke drifted. Mom climbed up from the floor, dusting off her pants. She rushed over, a look of victorious fury on her face. Not to embrace me, not to check for injuries. She raised her hand and slapped the “black figure” on the head. “Faking death? Ashley, get up!” “Don’t think playing dead will get you out of reviewing!” “Were you feeling smug just now? Letting you keep silent! Letting you defy me!” “Smack!” The slap was crisp and loud. It landed on the stiff corpse, with no echo, no cry of pain. My head was knocked to the side, still maintaining that curled posture. The firefighters froze. The neighbors froze. The whole world went silent. Only Mom was still panting heavily, pointing at my face and yelling: “Don’t pretend! I’ll count to three, if you don’t get up, I’ll sign you up for double the advanced math classes tomorrow!” I floated in the air, watching the scene. Mom, this time, I really can’t get up. Even if you sign me up for ten times the advanced math classes, I won’t be able to get up.

Mr. Peterson, the neighbor, couldn’t bear to watch anymore. He rushed forward and grabbed Mom’s arm. “Eleanor! You’re insane! Look at Ashley!” Mom shook him off, her strength astonishing. “Get lost! I’m disciplining my child! No one interferes!” Her eyes were red, her chest heaving violently, her finger trembling as she pointed at me on the floor. “You don’t know, she’s the laziest one.” “Only 99%, what good is being first in school? That one point is the key!” “If she doesn’t get that one point back, how will she compete with others? How will she cross the single-plank bridge?” As she spoke, she pulled out the shredded test paper from her pocket, clumsily taped back together with clear tape. It was covered in black ash, the tape almost melted. She crouched down, trying to force the test paper into my charred, purplish-black hand. “Take it! Get up and redo it for me!” “I’ve prepared your mistake notebook; if you don’t finish this sheet today, don’t even think about dinner!” My hand was stiff as iron tongs. My fingers were tightly clenched into a fist, protecting what was inside my backpack. She couldn’t pry my fingers open. “Let go! Did you hear me? You’re defying your mom, huh?” She pulled hard, her fingernails digging into my burnt flesh. The surrounding firefighters finally reacted. Two young men rushed forward, trying to pull her away. “Ma’am, please calm down! The victim needs urgent medical attention!” “Urgent medical attention my ass!” Mom turned and spat at them. “She just wants to be lazy! She just wants to sleep!” “In this house, as long as she has breath in her body, she has to study!” “Even if she dies, she has to finish the test first!” She struggled free from the firefighters’ grasp and turned towards the kitchen. There was still water there. She filled a basin with cold water and, with a splash, violently threw it onto my face. “Wake up! Don’t you dare act like a corpse in front of me!” The black ash was washed away by the cold water. Revealing my pale, bloodless face. My eyes were tightly closed, my lips purple, lifeless. Water flowed into my nostrils, down my throat. Normally, I would have jumped up coughing by now. But there was no reaction. Water droplets clung to my eyelashes, like tears that would never fall. Mom’s hand visibly trembled. She froze for a second, then that neurotic smile reappeared on her face. “You’re a really good actress, Ashley.” “The Oscars owe you a trophy, don’t they?” “Fine, you can tolerate it, huh? Let’s see how long you can tolerate it!” She rushed forward and pinched my philtrum. Her fingernails dug deep into my flesh, leaving red marks, even breaking the skin. I remained motionless. Like a broken rag doll, letting her do whatever she wanted. The people around started whispering, their eyes filled with fear and disgust. They looked at Mom not as a strict mother, but as a lunatic. Mom, however, didn’t notice. She leaned close to my ear, using her usual, most effective killer move, her voice chilling: “Ashley, if you don’t get up now, I’m canceling your tutoring classes tomorrow.” “I’ll give that five hundred bucks to a dog before I spend it on you!” “If you dare make me waste money, I’ll die right here in front of you!” This was her spell that had worked a hundred times before. As soon as she mentioned dying, no matter how sick I was, I would crawl up and do my homework. Because I was afraid of her dying. I was afraid of not having a mom. But this time, the “if you don’t get up, we’ll die together” spell failed. Mom. Keep the money. Giving it to a dog is great, a dog will wag its tail at you. I only made you angry. In the distance, the wail of an ambulance siren approached, cutting through the neighborhood’s silence. Emergency doctors, carrying their bags, rushed up the stairs, pushing through the onlookers, sweat dripping from their foreheads. “Make way! Everyone, make way! Where’s the victim?” The doctor’s face fell when he saw me on the floor. He knelt down and reached for my carotid artery. No pulse. He took out his stethoscope and placed it on my smoke-covered chest. The heart beneath it, which once pounded wildly over a single lost point on an exam, which tightened at the sound of Mom’s footsteps. Now, it was finally quiet. The doctor frowned, pried open my eyelid, and shone a flashlight into it. Pupils dilated, no light reflex. The doctor sighed, checked his watch, stood up, and shook his head: “Pupils dilated, no vital signs, time of death approximately one hour ago.” “Nothing to be done. Notify the funeral home.” This simple sentence, like a clap of thunder, exploded in the narrow hallway. Everyone fell silent. Except for Mom. “Bullshit!” A sharp roar erupted. Mom charged like a cannonball, tearing at the doctor’s white coat. “What are you saying! You quack!” “She’s just sleeping! She stayed up late studying last night, she’s just tired!” “She’s only seventeen! How can she be dead! If you dare curse my daughter again, I’ll tear your mouth apart!” She frantically clawed at the doctor’s face. Two police officers quickly rushed forward and forcibly restrained her. “Ma’am! Please calm down!” The police officers pinned her against the blackened wall. Mom’s face pressed against the cold, rough surface, flushed and swollen from struggling. Her gaze was forced directly onto me, on the floor. After that basin of water was splashed, my hand had fallen from its curled state. That hand, aimed right at her face. My fingertips were melted by the heat, the skin charred and curled, revealing the stark white bone beneath. That was the hand that held pens. That was the hand that helped her wash dishes. That was the hand that countless times tried to hold hers, only to be shaken off because she found it sweaty. At this moment, she finally saw clearly. That wasn’t sleep. A living person’s hand wouldn’t reveal bone. “Ash… Ashley?” Her voice suddenly softened, as faint as a mosquito’s buzz.

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I targeted the wrong man. By the time I discovered the truth, I was already standing at the altar, about to marry Gavin Sterling. Inside the bridal suite, a girl was wearing my custom wedding dress, preening in front of the mirror. “Gavin,” she purred, her voice dripping with sweet poison. “Do I look beautiful in her dress?” Gavin’s voice was low, raspy. “Hideous.” “If it’s so hideous, why do you look at me like—ah—” Her words were instantly shattered into breathless gasps. Today was supposed to be my wedding day. But the moment his toxic childhood friend, Scarlett Rose, heard the news, she flew back across the Atlantic overnight. Now, she was curled into Gavin’s arms, explicitly planning to ruin my wedding. A suffocating chill washed over my entire body. If this wedding fell through, my mission would be marked as an absolute failure. And the penalty for failure was immediate system elimination. Inside the room, Scarlett was panting, her voice laced with triumphant arrogance. “See? You still love me.” Gavin’s face was dark, but his hands didn’t stop. “Don’t flatter yourself.” Scarlett began to cry, her tears sounding practiced and delicate. “Gavin, please. Don’t marry that pathetic clinger. Run away with me. Leave her at the altar.” “Beg me.” “I am begging you. Please.” Gavin leaned down and covered her mouth with his. The pain in my chest was so sharp I could barely draw breath. I raised my hand, fully prepared to push the door open and unleash hell. But right then, the System—which had been radio silent for months—suddenly screamed inside my brain. 【AAAAAHHHHHHHH!】 I flinched so hard I nearly dropped my bouquet. The System’s voice was pure, unadulterated panic. 【Host! Wipe your tears right now! You spent the last six months simping for the wrong guy!!!! The mission deadline is expiring in an hour, oh my god, oh my god…】 It felt like a bolt of lightning struck my spine. “The… the wrong guy?!” The System wept inside my head. 【We glitched! Your actual romantic target isn’t Gavin Sterling—it’s his best friend, Adrian Belmont… You have exactly sixty minutes left before permanent deletion.】 My legs turned to jelly. Black spots danced across my vision. I nearly fainted right there on the pristine marble floor. For the past half-year, I had played the role of Gavin’s devoted, submissive doormat perfectly. I was at his beck and call, enduring his cold shoulder, swallowing my pride. All of it, just to get him to lead me down the aisle and complete the mission. And now you’re telling me I barked up the wrong tree? I had one hour. Where on earth was I supposed to find Adrian Belmont and convince him to marry me? I might as well just lie down and wait for death. “What do I do?” I asked, my soul completely leaving my body. The System’s voice was weak, running on fumes. 【Physical intimacy extends the mission countdown! The higher the level of intimacy, the more time we buy. My official recommendation: skip the talking and go straight for a forced kiss!】 The survival instinct is a powerful thing. I instantly surged back to life, lifting the heavy layers of my satin gown with pure survival fury. “Where is he?!” 【The ceremony entrance! Right now!】 A few minutes later, I was standing at the end of the aisle. Gavin stood across from me, looking completely detached. My eyes were brimming with tears, threatening to spill over. But I wasn’t crying for him. I was crying because if I couldn’t get my lips on Adrian Belmont within the next few minutes, I was a dead woman. Gavin looked down at me, his expression flat and unbothered. “Elena,” he murmured, his voice lacking any real warmth. “You’re finally marrying me. Aren’t you excited?” He was baiting me. He was clearly anticipating the look on my face when he publicly jilted me for Scarlett in front of hundreds of high-society guests. But I didn’t have the time or the energy to give a damn about his ego. The System’s countdown was echoing frantically in my skull. 【Host! Adrian Belmont has just entered the building! Counting down from ten, nine, eight…】 I slowly gathered the train of my wedding dress, crouching slightly into a runner’s stance. The minister beamed, his voice booming through the microphone. “Do you, Gavin Sterling, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to cherish and to hold, for as long as you both shall live?” Down in the front row, Scarlett sat with a flushed, ecstatic face, waiting for the climax. Gavin lifted his microphone, the corner of his lips curling into a cruel, mocking smirk. “I do no—” 【HOST, CHARGE!!!!!!!!!!】 Before the word could leave his mouth, under the collective gaze of the entire venue, my expression turned feral. I bolted. I launched myself forward like a literal missile, tearing down the aisle with an aggressive velocity that left a trail of white tulle in my wake. The guests’ jaws dropped in unison. The heavy double doors of the chapel slammed open. I locked eyes with a tall, imposing man who had just stepped inside, grabbed him by the lapels of his midnight-black tuxedo, and dragged him fiercely out into the blinding sunlight. Behind us, Gavin and the minister stood frozen at the altar, looking utterly stupid. A long, agonizing silence descended upon the chapel. Finally, the minister’s voice cracked through the speakers, completely breaking protocol as he turned to look at the groom. “Did the… did the bride just leave you at the altar? Like, she ran away from you?” 2 Inside the dim, cramped janitor’s closet, Adrian Belmont was leaning lazily against the wall. His crisp white shirt was completely disheveled. He radiated the dark, messy beauty of a man who had just been thoroughly ravaged. “Done kissing me?” Adrian’s tone was smooth, dripping with an indifferent, dangerous amusement. It was as if he didn’t care in the slightest that a crazed bride had just violently stolen his virtue in a broom closet. The System exhaled a massive sigh of relief. 【Whew! The forced kiss worked! Congratulations, Host, you have successfully bought us an extra thirty minutes of survival time.】 【Honestly, it would be way faster if you just slept with him. One night with a guy like him could buy us days.】 A fierce, passionate kiss only bought me thirty minutes? As expected of Adrian Belmont. The most notoriously difficult man to deal with in the entire city. As the youngest billionaire heir to the Belmont empire, Adrian was known for being unpredictable, ruthless, and terrifyingly cold. People usually cleared the room the moment he walked in. Who would ever dare to seduce a man like him? The System’s digital interface suddenly warped, aggressively flashing a banned adult romance novel across my mental screen titled The Cruel Billionaire’s Captive Submissive. 【Host, trust me! Copy the plot directly. You will break him in no time!】 A few minutes later, I found myself wearing a crimson, thigh-slit silk slip dress—courtesy of a quick emergency change—sitting directly on Adrian’s lap, my face burning with embarrassment. My pale skin formed a stark, scandalous contrast against the dark fabric of his tailored suit trousers. The System whispered in my head, 【Wow, this book plays dirty. You’ve had a rough day, Host. Keep it up.】 My day wasn’t just rough. It was cursed. I pinched my own thigh to force out a wave of tears, looking up at him with wide, trembling eyes. “Adrian… if I told you that I’ve actually loved you all along, and that I only used your best friend to get closer to you, would you believe me?” The bright afternoon sun filtered through the small closet window, casting a warm glow over my bare shoulders. Adrian narrowed his eyes, the dark depths of his pupils clouding with a dangerous intensity. “You little sociopath,” he murmured, his deep, velvety voice making my knees go weak. “Are you addicted to playing games?” Suddenly, Gavin’s furious, booming voice echoed from the courtyard outside the window. “Search every inch of this property! When you find Elena Lockhart, I am going to personally break her legs!” Adrian tilted his head down, his gaze raking over the shredded remains of my wedding dress discarded on the floor. A mocking, dark smirk played on his lips. “Sit closer, sweetheart.” The System suddenly shrieked: 【Host! If Gavin catches you cheating on him right now, your survival time will be severely penalized and deducted!!!!】 Panic seized me. I immediately tried to scramble off his lap to lock the door. But Adrian’s large hand suddenly clamped around my waist, violently pulling me back against his chest. The crisp, intoxicating scent of winter mint instantly flooded my senses. He smelled so clean. So entirely untouchable. Adrian’s fingers slid slowly down the curve of my waist, giving me a sharp, firm squeeze. I couldn’t help it—a soft, breathless gasp escaped my lips. In the exact same second, the closet door was violently rattled, and the window blinds were kicked open from the outside. The bright sunlight poured in. A rolling rack of heavy coats partially obscured Adrian’s upper body. But Gavin, peering through the glass, saw me perfectly. He saw me flushed, breathless, and straddling a pair of long legs clad in an expensive black suit, my face twisted in utter panic. The System wailed, 【Survival time is dropping rapidly! Counting down from ten, nine…】 【Oh my god, Host, stop kissing him! Seduce him! Strip him! It’s faster!】 In a frantic bid to survive, my hands flew to Adrian’s waist, desperately trying to unbuckle his leather belt. The next second, Gavin’s primal roar rattled the entire courtyard. “Elena Lockhart, take your hands off him right now!” “If you and that bastard walk out of this estate with your limbs intact today, I’ll change my damn name!” Adrian remained entirely unbothered. He reached up, casually stroking the back of my hair. “Put your hands behind your back,” he whispered. “What?” Outside, a massive crowd of wedding guests and relatives was rapidly gathering to witness the scandal. Adrian calmly unknotted his silk tie, wrapping it firmly around my wrists until they were bound together. He flashed me a terrifyingly handsome, gentle smile. “Didn’t you say you wanted to sleep with me?” “Where’s all that energy gone? How are you going to ravage me in front of an audience if you’re unpinned?” Wait a minute… The crowd outside… did he call them over?! My hard-earned survival time was ticking down at an alarming rate. Bound and helpless, tears of sheer frustration finally leaked from my eyes. “Untie me!” I sobbed. “I can’t save myself if you keep playing around!” The amused, mocking look on Adrian’s face vanished instantly. He lifted an eyebrow, his eyes darkening to a frosty chill. “You really want this?” “Do I look like I’m joking?!” Under the absolute terror of impending death, my body went entirely limp, and I collapsed sobbing into Adrian’s chest. This was likely the first time in Adrian Belmont’s life that a woman had wept inconsolably simply because she couldn’t strip him fast enough. The shouting outside grew louder as the crowd breached the hallway. Suddenly, a heavy black suit jacket was thrown over my head, completely enveloping my body from view right before the lock clicked. The lethal countdown abruptly halted. Adrian let out a dark, raspy chuckle beneath the fabric. “Crying like you’ve been diagnosed with a terminal illness. You’re pathetic, Elena.” 3 Right before Gavin could smash the door open, Adrian scooped me up into his arms. He carried me through a back exit, navigating a labyrinth of wardrobe racks, and threw me straight into the back seat of his armored Maybach. Inside the car, I was still reeling from the adrenaline, weeping and trembling into the leather seats. Adrian sat beside me, his expression dark and unreadable. “What are you still crying for? Just because you didn’t get to sleep with me?” I nodded aggressively, latching onto his torso like an absolute parasite, silently watching my digital survival timer slowly crawl back into the safe zone as our proximity remained locked. Adrian’s face twisted into an expression of cold disgust, and he turned to look out the window, completely ignoring my clinginess. The car smoothly glided into a ultra-exclusive gated estate. “Get out,” Adrian commanded coldly. “Aren’t you coming?” “I have a corporate empire to run.” If he left, I was dead meat. The System started buzzing frantically in my ear again. 【Host! Kiss him until we’re maxed out!!! I don’t want to be wiped from the server!】 I cautiously crept across the leather seats, cornering him. “Can I… can I please kiss you again?” Adrian didn’t say a word. He just stared at my wet, tear-stained eyelashes with an intense, unblinking gaze. After what felt like an eternity, his large hand clamped around my jaw, tilting my head up as he permitted me to shamelessly claim his lips once more. His mouth was incredibly cool. The rough pad of his thumb stroked the delicate skin of my throat, sending an electric, intoxicating jolt straight down my spine. It felt entirely too good. Suddenly, a violent knock shattered the intimacy. I snapped my eyes open and looked out the tinted window. Gavin’s furious, enlarged face was pressed flat against the glass. I shrieked in terror, my heart nearly stopping. “You’ve got to be kidding me—” 【Host! Maintain the innocent sweetheart persona! Do not break character!】 I quickly clamped my hands over my mouth and dove directly under the dashboard, hiding beneath Adrian’s long legs, staring up at him with begging, desperate eyes. Fortunately, the heavy tint kept the interior completely invisible from the outside. Gavin’s face remained pressed to the glass, his voice muffled but sharp as he continued to knock. “Man, open up. I need a favor.” Adrian looked down at me hiding between his knees, a dangerous glimmer in his eyes. He pressed his palm firmly onto the top of my head, pushing me down further. “Stay down, sweetheart. Lower, or he’ll see you.” Due to this incredibly scandalous posture, the intoxicating scent of winter mint radiating from him became completely overwhelming. Adrian rolled the window down a tiny fraction of an inch. “What is it?” Adrian asked, his tone flat and icy. “Elena ran away from the altar.” Adrian raised an eyebrow, a subtle, dark amusement playing on his features. “Oh? Then she really is… actively seeking death.” Gavin pulled out a cigarette, his hands shaking with rage as he lit it. “Do me a favor. A guy carried her out through the back exit. I know your security detail handles that perimeter, so they must have caught it on camera. Help me trace the license plate. I’m going to ruin him.” In my sudden spike of nerves, my head accidentally bumped hard against a very sensitive area between his thighs. Adrian let out a sharp, low hiss. He narrowed his eyes, looking down at me with a dangerous, hooded gaze. “Careful, sweetheart. Are you trying to ruin me too?” I clamped my mouth shut, not daring to make a sound. Gavin, hearing the muffled rustle, tried to peer deeper through the tiny gap in the window. He froze, his eyes widening slightly. “Since when do you keep a girl in your car? She looks incredibly flexible.” “Just started seeing her,” Adrian replied smoothly, his voice deep and steady. “She tends to bite.” Gavin narrowed his eyes, practically trying to squeeze his head through the crack. “She looks soft. Why don’t you introduce her to your boys?” As he spoke, Gavin reached down to yank the door handle. The automatic locks clicked shut instantly, courtesy of the driver. Adrian smiled, a cold, humorless expression. “She’s timid. Easily frightened. Maybe next time.” With that, under Gavin’s deeply suspicious glare, Adrian rolled the window all the way up, blocking him out entirely. He reached down and pulled me up by my chin. He noticed that my red lipstick was now completely smeared across the fabric of his dark suit trousers. With agonizing patience, his thumb brushed against my lips, wiping away the smudged makeup. “Look at that. Your ex-fiancé is suddenly getting very interested in you again.” “Which means… I have no choice but to lock you away where no one can find you.” 4 “Adrian Belmont is a literal psychopath.” I lay spread-eagled across Adrian’s massive King-sized bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. The psycho had locked me inside his private estate and vanished into thin air. In his place, his executive secretary arrived with a small army of delivery drivers, loading the walk-in closet with luxury goods. Silk nightgowns, designer shoes, and high-end handbags filled the space. The System was eating up the drama. 【Wow, Host, his keeping-a-mistress ritual is incredibly fancy.】 But was I short on cash? No! I was short on skinship! Adrian was playing a dangerous game of cat and mouse—letting me see him, but keeping himself entirely out of reach. Watching my survival timer slowly deplete to critical levels, I paced the room like a caged animal. 【Host, look out the window! There’s a high-society gala happening at the estate clubhouse down the road. Adrian is attending right now. If we sneak out, we can intercept him before the timer hits zero.】 So, I broke out. The second my feet hit the perimeter, the estate’s advanced security grid began to wail like a banshee. A moment later, my phone vibrated with a call from an unknown number. I picked it up, only to hear Adrian’s cool, amused voice on the other end. “Sweetheart, is this how you show your devotion? You better pray I don’t catch you.” I aggressively hung up the phone. Staring at the digital overlay showing exactly ten minutes left of my life, I ran faster, sprinting toward the grand ballroom. The gala was packed with elites. I pushed through the crowd, looking frantically for that familiar tall silhouette. But before I could find him, a violent grip caught the back of my hair, slamming me hard against the neoclassical stone wall. A sharp, white-hot pain shot from the back of my skull straight down my spine. I groaned, my teeth grinding together from the agony. “Elena. Where have you been hiding these past few days?” Gavin Sterling stepped out from the shadows, his face twisted into a dark, venomous scowl. My breath caught in my throat, every muscle in my body locking tight. If Gavin and Adrian ended up in the same room right now, the sheer narrative chaos would obliterate me. “Gavin,” I whispered, trying to keep my voice steady. “Let go of me.” “Let you go? So you can run back to whatever bastard you’ve been sleeping with?” His grip tightened, viciously ripping at my hair. “Tell me his name, Elena.” “I need to teach him a lesson. I need him to know that you don’t just pick up the trash I throw away.” I had almost forgotten what an absolute monster Gavin was. Whenever Scarlett ignored his texts, Gavin would use me as a literal proxy. He used to force me to go on extreme diets, ordering me to lose weight until I was as fragile and frail as Scarlett. But the moment Scarlett threw him a bone, he’d find my presence offensive, ordering me to gain weight because he couldn’t stand me looking like her. Half a year of his psychological torture had left me with chronic stomach ulcers and a broken constitution. “System, can I please call him a worthless piece of shit?” The System sighed. 【Your character template is the Innocent Sweetheart. You cannot break character or break the rules of engagement.】 As I was struggling to breathe beneath his chokehold, Scarlett emerged from the VIP lounge. She clamped her manicured hands over her mouth, her eyes instantly brimming with dramatic tears. “Gavin… why are you letting her filthy hands touch your suit?” Gavin’s head snapped around, panic flashing across his features the moment he saw her. “Scarlett, it’s not what it looks like—” “You liar!” Scarlett sobbed, her voice echoing through the corridor. “Don’t touch me! You’ve been near her… you smell disgusting!” Taking advantage of his distraction, I wrenched myself free from his grip and bolted down the long hallway. But Scarlett suddenly extended her designer heel, tripping me up. I lost my balance, smashing into a rolling cart of champagne towers, crashing heavily onto the marble floor. Shard of broken glass sliced deep into my palms. Scarlett continued to wail at the top of her lungs. Gavin rushed over, pulling her into his arms before executing a vicious kick straight into my ribs. “Hey! You made my girl cry. Apologize to her right now.” I gritted my teeth, staring at the flashing red countdown: Ten minutes remaining. The primitive urge to survive forced me to start crawling forward through the glass. A flash of pure malice crossed Scarlett’s eyes, and she raised her sharp, stiletto heel, aiming it directly at my bleeding hand. In a blind panic, I grabbed a jagged shard of green glass from the floor and drove it violently into her ankle. A blood-curdling shriek pierced the air. Instantly, a cold, mechanical voice echoed in my mind: 【CRITICAL VIOLATION: Host has assaulted a core narrative NPC. Deducting five minutes from survival time.】 It was the Chief Arbitrator—the supreme system code that governed all sub-servers. Its rulings were absolute and unappealable. The timer over my head instantly slashed in half. The System screamed in terror, 【Host! Adrian Belmont is right ahead! Forget everything else and get to him!】 I forced myself up, dripping blood as I pushed open the grand double doors of the ballroom. There, surrounded by a massive entourage of older executives, Adrian Belmont was walking slowly down the main corridor. 【Host! Drag him away from Gavin’s line of sight! Sleep with him right now!】 That was exactly my plan. Adrian paused, murmuring something to his secretary before turning his dark eyes directly toward me. My face was deathly pale, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. I bolted down the side corridor, looking for any empty room to commit the crime. Adrian’s lazy, deep voice drifted from behind me. “Elena, don’t tell me you broke out of my house just to turn yourself into a bleeding mess.” His stride was massive; one of his steps easily matched three of mine. He followed behind me with a slow, predatory leisure, like a wolf letting its prey run itself ragged. The ticking countdown in my head felt like a heavy iron bell shattering my nerves. Seeing me speed up in a frenzy, Adrian’s voice dropped into a dark, dangerous octave. “Keep running if you think you’re fast enough. But if I catch you, you already know what the punishment is.” At the end of the hall, I spotted an open conference room. The timer was flashing its final seconds. I abruptly whirled around, and before Adrian could even react, I grabbed him by his tie and violently dragged him into the room. I slammed him hard into the leather sofa, threw myself over him, and began to kiss him with a feral, manic desperation. The bleeding countdown instantly froze, slowly creeping back up. Adrian’s entire body went rigid. The cold, murderous arrogance in his eyes slowly dissolved into utter bewilderment. His lips were completely occupied by mine, rendering him speechless. His massive hand slid down my bare back, grabbing my collar and firmly pulling me back an inch to force some space between us. His handsome face was dark with irritation. “Elena Lockhart, take a breath—” “Shut up! Just let me kiss you!” Like a starving animal, I threw myself back over him, biting, bruising, and shamelessly devouring his lips. The scent of winter mint mixed with the rich, expensive aroma of aged whiskey, completely intoxicating me. But it wasn’t fast enough. The timer was rising too slowly. Breathless and completely out of my mind, I yanked at Adrian’s silk tie. “Adrian, let’s sleep together. Right now. On this couch.” It turns out that when faced with literal annihilation, human beings completely lose all sanity. I was so consumed by survival that I failed to notice a glaring detail. We weren’t alone. Far from it. “P-please… unhand our Chief Executive Officer!” A trembling, elderly voice echoed from the dark corner of the room. I froze, slowly turning my head. Sixteen elderly, high-ranking board members of the Belmont Group were sitting around the mahogany conference table, staring in absolute, petrified silence at my hands—which were currently unbuckling Adrian’s belt. The silence was deafening. Adrian suddenly let out a low, deeply wicked laugh. “Congratulations, sweetheart. You just told my entire Board of Directors that you’re going to ravage me.”

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To ruin my reputation, the fake heiress’s suitors deliberately approached me. The aloof valedictorian stood up for me when I was being bullied. The rebellious billionaire heir pretended to be broke, begging me to take him in on a rainy night. But on the night my heart finally fluttered and I went to confess my feelings, what greeted me was a gang of thugs ready to humiliate me. Asher trampled the scarf I had knit for him into the mud, saying in absolute disgust: “You deadbeat trash, you actually thought you could steal Chloe’s life?” Ethan stepped out of the car, urging coldly: “Let’s go. Chloe is flying back to the country today.” To save myself, I leaped from the top of the building to a tragic death. When I woke up again, I had miraculously returned to the snowy night Asher showed up at my apartment door pretending to be broke. “Riley, you absolute trash, you actually think you can compete with me for the study-abroad spot?” “Writing a complaint letter? I think you’re a bit too naive, bitch!” As soon as the words fell, an entire bucket of freezing, filthy water was splashed over me. Through my soaking wet bangs, the school’s golden girl, Chloe Sinclair, was glaring at me viciously. Immediately after, a barrage of slaps rained down on me. It wasn’t until I was weakly slumped on the dirty bathroom floor like a dog that Chloe smiled in satisfaction and told her lackeys to stop. Before leaving, she flashed her sweet, signature dimples and patted my cheek. “Know your place. Don’t try to fight me.” It made sense. She was the jewel of the wealthy Sinclair family; whatever she wanted, she got. And I was just a destitute orphan who was only able to attend this prep school because of the Sinclair family’s charity foundation. But in my previous life, right before I died, I learned the incredibly absurd truth about my origins. I was the Sinclair family’s biological daughter. And Chloe Sinclair was nothing but a fake heiress who had stolen my nest. I wrung out my soaking wet clothes and stood up. Just as I walked out of the restroom, I crashed headfirst into a firm chest. “Are you alright?” I looked up and recognized the person. It was Ethan Vance. As the wealthy, aloof top student, countless girls in school slipped love letters into his locker. But every single time, with a cold expression, he would dump the gifts and letters straight into the trash. In my past life, however, for the sake of his beloved Chloe, Ethan and the billionaire heir, Asher Sterling, launched a “capture” strategy against me. Whenever I was bullied and humiliated, Ethan would stand in front of me and be my knight in shining armor. Meanwhile, Asher pretended to be homeless just to get close to me, pitifully calling me “sister” and begging me to take him in. Eventually, after spending every day together, I fell for Asher. On his twentieth birthday, I carried a large cake I had saved up for months to buy, planning to give him a surprise. Instead, he drugged me and shipped me off to an abandoned warehouse in the suburbs. When I woke up, I watched Asher take off the scarf I had painstakingly knit for him, throwing it into the mud and grinding it under his expensive shoes. “You actually fell in love with me? You disgusting trash, just looking at your face makes me sick.” “Why are you doing this to me?” Through blurry tears, I forced the words out of my dry, hoarse throat. “Heh, blame the fact that your existence threatens to steal everything from Chloe.” He shot me a look of pity, charitably granting me the truth. Ethan stepped out of his Maybach and said coldly, “Once the photos are leaked, the Vance family won’t accept a daughter whose reputation is entirely ruined.” The thugs eagerly reached their hands toward my chest. In ultimate despair, I cried and begged them at the top of my lungs: “I won’t affect Chloe! I’ll stay far away! My little sister is still in the hospital, I need to make money to save her…” Asher’s footsteps paused for a fraction of a second. Ethan urged, “It’s just taking some photos, they won’t go too far. Chloe is waiting for us at the airport.” In the end, to save myself from the assault, I threw myself off the roof of the building. My mangled body smashed heavily onto Ethan’s luxury car. The agonizing pain of countless glass shards piercing my body still made me shiver uncontrollably. “Let me take you to the nurse’s office first.” Ethan’s gentle, deep voice pulled me out of my memories. He leaned in close, taking off his jacket and draping it over my shivering shoulders. At this close distance, I could clearly see the concern and heartache in his eyes. Ethan’s acting was truly spectacular. In my past life, forced by circumstance, I was overly mature and seemingly independent, but deep down, I was insecure, sensitive, and starved for affection. During the most helpless moments of my long-term bullying, Ethan extended a helping hand. Like a knight, he always appeared when I was at my most wretched. When my sister’s heart condition relapsed and she was rushed into emergency surgery, Ethan stepped in and got the chief of surgery to operate on her. To wait with me at the hospital, he even gave up a precious interview for an Ivy League early-admissions program. Everyone said the aloof genius was madly in love with me. But it wasn’t until right before I died that I realized every disaster I suffered had been orchestrated by him. Just to ensure Chloe secured the study-abroad spot. He used money and power to bribe the school administration, making sure my application “got lost” so I would lose my chance. The familiar scent of cold pine filled my nose. I clenched the hands hidden in my pockets so hard my nails dug into my flesh, forcing myself to smile through the phantom pain. “Thank you for the trouble, Ethan.” Ethan’s gaze faltered for a second. In my past life, due to my deep-seated inferiority complex, I always kept my head down, never daring to meet his eyes. But this time, I clearly saw the reflection of the girl in his dark pupils. Eyes curved in a soft smile, her gaze pure and clean. The absolute picture of a naive, easily manipulated little bunny. With Ethan supporting me, I limped into the nurse’s office. When the doctor rolled up my pant leg, he drew in a sharp breath. “Miss, if you are experiencing bullying, you need to report it to the teachers immediately.” I had tried fighting back before. But every single time, it only resulted in the school board interrogating and warning me. “Chloe is Mr. Sinclair’s daughter, why would she ever do something like this?” Nobody believed me. “Riley, don’t be afraid. Who is bullying you?” Ethan’s voice rang out, laced with an encouraging, heroic tone. In a blind spot where no one could see, I curled my lips into a cold sneer. If I told him it was his pure, kind-hearted childhood sweetheart who burned me with a curling iron… Would he still act this incredibly righteous? Fairness was the biggest joke in the world. I deliberately waited until my eyes were entirely red, tears brimming but refusing to fall, before looking up and whispering timidly. “My foster father beat me. He lost money gambling and got into debt. He said paying for my tuition is a waste of cash. When he came back last time, he tried to steal my savings. I fought him off with everything I had, because that’s my sister’s life-saving medical fund.” “That’s illegal, Riley. I can help…” Even though he was deliberately approaching me, it still triggered Ethan’s savior complex and desire to perform. As the tears finally fell, Ethan reached out and gently wiped them away. Perhaps the tears were too hot, because his hand flinched slightly. “Thank you for today. It’s in the past now. I believe I can work hard and give my sister a better life,” I said, pretending to be optimistic. A life so bleak, impoverished, and agonizing was clearly something this golden boy had never heard of. Ethan’s expression stiffened, and his gaze darted away from mine. By this point in my past life, he already knew the truth that I was the biological Sinclair daughter. Ethan, your heart ached at the thought of Chloe suffering if her identity was exposed. So, what do you think of me now—the girl whose entire life was stolen? I wiped my tears, rolled down my pant leg, and limped out of the room. It was a cloudy late afternoon, and a cold drizzle began to fall. Anxious footsteps chased after me from behind. “I’ll drive you home. Wait right here for me.” With that, he turned to head toward the student parking garage. I grabbed the hem of his shirt, pulled my only umbrella out of my bag, and handed it to him. “Don’t catch a cold.” Ethan froze for a second, took it, and jogged into the rain. Watching his disappearing back, I pulled out my phone and immediately ordered an Uber. In my past life, he abandoned me the second he received a phone call from Chloe. I ended up soaking in the freezing rain for two hours and ran a high fever for days. This time, I wasn’t stupid enough to wait for him. As my cab drove out of the school gates, I spotted Ethan’s bright red sports car in the distance. Rumor had it that he personally disliked such flashy colors. But Chloe loved them. As we passed by, he was leaning over the center console, carefully buckling Chloe’s seatbelt. I arrived at the lounge just in time for my shift. After changing into my uniform dress, my phone rang. On the other end, Ethan’s voice had lost its usual calm composure. “The rain is pouring. Where did you go?” His tone was level, but there was an obvious undercurrent of anger. It seemed Ethan had actually gone back to look for me. I checked the time. Compared to the freezing rain I endured in my past life, this was nothing. “I’m so sorry, Ethan. I didn’t mean to. I just… I fainted, and a passerby brought me to the clinic.” As I spoke, my voice grew softer, interrupted by light, delicate coughs. I sounded incredibly guilty and full of self-blame. “You caught a cold? Which clinic are you at?” His voice was suddenly tainted with genuine tension. I had successfully plucked his heartstrings. Ethan wanted to say more, but I quickly cut him off. “I just finished my IV drip, my fever broke. It’s nothing serious, I’m heading home now.” After hanging up, I put on my performance outfit and sat down at the piano. They were short-staffed tonight, so after my set, the boss asked me to help deliver drinks. Walking down the corridor, I spotted a familiar figure at the end of the hall. Asher Sterling was smoking, exhaling clouds of gray mist. As we brushed past each other, I kept my head down, blending into the crowd, and watched the ash drop from his fingers. Asher spoke into his phone with a tone of absolute certainty: “For a completely inexperienced country mouse like Riley, playing the pitiful card is the best way to trigger her sympathy.” “Ethan, you might be a genius at school, but when it comes to playing girls, leave it to me.” Is that so? I couldn’t wait to see who was playing who this time. Ethan must have said something, because the call quickly ended. In my past life, it was at the entrance of this very club where I found him blackout drunk. In the sub-zero snowy weather, terrified he would freeze to death, I temporarily brought him back to my apartment. But the next morning when he sobered up, with red eyes, he claimed his family went bankrupt and he was homeless. My meager income was barely enough to keep me and my sister alive. While I was hesitating, he cautiously tried to please me. “Sister, I’ll do the chores and cook for you while you’re at work. Please don’t kick me out, okay?” I had ruffled his hair and agreed. To feed him, I worked three jobs a day. Once, when he ended up in the hospital from street racing, I sold the only bracelet my mother left me just to pay his medical bills. It wasn’t until right before I died that I realized my genuine, heartfelt sacrifices were nothing but cheap, pathetic desperation in Asher’s eyes. When my shift ended, I purposefully delayed clocking out for an hour, sipping a glass of warm mulled wine in the breakroom. Feeling warm inside, I watched the clock hit exactly midnight, then stepped out the door. Just like my past life, Asher was wearing a luxurious, custom-tailored suit, slumped “drunkenly” on the snow-covered steps. The difference was, this time, shivering in the biting winter wind for an extra hour, Asher was genuinely freezing. As I walked past him, a glimmer of calculation and anticipation lit up in his eyes. But I pretended not to see him, pulled my puffer jacket tighter around myself, and walked straight toward the street. Across the road, the crosswalk light turned green. I counted down in my head. Two… One. Asher finally couldn’t hold back anymore and called out to me. “Sister.” A hand, entirely red from the freezing cold, grabbed the hem of my coat. When I turned around, the boy blinked his dark eyes, looking up at me pitifully. He had incredibly beautiful eyes, beautiful enough to bewitch anyone. Too bad I had already seen the monster hiding behind them. “Sister, I don’t have anywhere to go.” I pulled out my phone and smiled calmly. “Oh?” “Do you need me to call the police for you, little boy?” Asher clearly hadn’t anticipated this reaction. He quickly lowered his head, hiding a flash of irritation. In that moment, the dim yellow light from the streetlamp cast a glow over his dark hair. He looked soft, obedient. He spoke with a muffled, begging tone. “No, please. I just escaped. If they send me back, my dad will beat me to death.” That part was actually true. In my past life, after living with Asher, I vaguely learned about his horrific childhood—a mother who went insane and committed suicide, an alcoholic, abusive father. And the pampered little princess, Chloe Sinclair, was the only ray of light in Asher’s dark, messed-up life. He lived in hell, yet he swore to protect her happiness, ready to eradicate any trouble or threat in her path. And I was that trouble. “Sister, please take me home? I’ll be so good.” After a long silence, meeting Asher’s dark eyes, I reached out and patted the crown of his head, then pressed down hard on the bleeding cut on his forehead. I pressed so hard that sweat broke out on Asher’s face from the pain. But what was this tiny bit of pain compared to what I had suffered? Fine. This time, I was going to make Asher willingly drop to his knees for me. And when I had enough fun, I would kick him aside like trash. “Alright.” I finally relented. “You’re injured, you need medicine. Also, if you stay at my place, you have to pay rent and utilities,” I added. “Sister, I’ll figure out a way to pay you back.” Asher smiled obediently, though the smile didn’t reach his eyes. He was probably mocking my impoverished, penny-pinching mindset in his head. Of course I knew the young master didn’t care about a few bucks. For someone born into top-tier wealth like Asher, he was always surrounded by people. Whether it was genuine love or fake flattery, he had an endless supply of it. So, against a rabid dog like him, blind, unconditional sacrifice was completely useless. The thought of returning every single ounce of pain he inflicted on me… It made my blood boil with sheer excitement. I leaned in close, exhaling hot breath against his ear. “How are you going to pay me back?” Our noses almost touched, so close that I could see a flash of genuine panic in the boy’s eyes. The atmosphere instantly turned ambiguous. A flush of red quickly crawled up his ears and spread down his neck. Finally, as if making a massive sacrifice, he looked at me. “Sister, I…” In my past life, after moving in with me, Asher had complained to his rich friends: “An old hag. I’ve seriously had enough of her.” “She makes me sick.” The image of the man smoking, his face twisted in absolute disgust and mockery, was still vivid in my mind. I smiled brightly and cut him off: “You can do the chores, then.” Since he was playing broke, he obviously couldn’t drive his fleet of supercars. In my past life, not wanting him to suffer in the cold, I spent a small fortune on a cab to bring him home in the snow. This time, I chose to take the subway. Walking into the chaotic subway station, a crack finally appeared in the young master’s usually composed facade. I completely ignored him and walked briskly ahead. Asher had absolutely zero experience with public transportation. When I looked back, he was caught in a massive crowd of commuters, his brows furrowed tightly in disgust. When he looked utterly miserable, I slowly walked over and held out my hand. “Hold onto me. Don’t get lost.” Asher’s reflex was to snap in anger, but he forcefully swallowed it down, slipping back into his obedient puppy persona as he grabbed my hand tight. “Don’t leave me behind, Sister.” See? What Asher needed was never groveling. On the contrary, the more casual and dismissive you were, the more it triggered his competitive drive and desire to conquer. Being intrigued is the most important foundation for turning a stranger into someone intimate. Since he wanted to play a game with me, I was going to be the one holding all the cards. …

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The day before my final senior exams, a girl showed up at my house claiming she was my parents’ biological daughter. I knew she had deliberately chosen the day before the exams to show up, hoping the shock would make me fail. Because she was reincarnated, and I had transmigrated into this book. 1 The day before my final exams, my parents’ biological daughter knocked on our door. She said we had been switched at birth in the hospital and asked for a DNA test. My mom immediately hugged her and burst into tears. “Sweetheart, we don’t need a DNA test. A mother just knows. You are definitely my daughter.” The reason was simple: this “true daughter” looked exactly like my mom did in her youth. The true daughter seemed a little stunned. She looked at me and said, “Maybe we should still do it. Just in case I made a mistake.” “It’s not a mistake,” my mom wept. “You are my daughter.” But at the true daughter’s strong insistence, they still had someone come over to collect samples for a rapid DNA test. After the technician collected their three swabs and was about to leave, the true daughter spoke up at the perfect moment. “Harper, you should take one too.” The atmosphere instantly grew awkward. I just smiled and said, “No need. You guys go ahead.” She was persistent. “You really should. Just in case I’m the one who made a mistake, it would give everyone peace of mind.” My dad said flatly, “It’s fine. Harper already did a DNA test with us.” I flashed the true daughter a sweet smile. This reincarnated true daughter had no idea that she wasn’t the only one who knew the plot. I knew it too. Because I was a transmigrator, and I actually knew more of the story than she did. I knew long ago that she would show up at the Sterling family’s doorstep the day before the finals. She believed her past life was miserable because the original owner of my body had stolen her rightful place. So, she wanted revenge. She deliberately chose to drop this bomb the day before the exams to catch Harper off guard and ruin her academic future. In the original novel, the original Harper was the state’s Valedictorian. But after the true daughter’s sudden appearance, Harper’s mental state collapsed, and she bombed the exams. So, before the true daughter even knocked on our door, I had already found an excuse to tell my parents that I suspected I wasn’t their biological child. At my request, we did a DNA test. The results were obvious: I was not a Sterling. I immediately offered to move out, but my parents refused. After all, they had raised me for eighteen years. Even without blood ties, the love was still there. To ease the true daughter’s awkwardness, my mom proactively brought up changing her name. And so, even before her DNA results were officially printed, Olivia Hayes became Olivia Sterling. 2 After returning to the living room, Olivia said, “Mr. and Mrs. Sterling, until the DNA results are officially out, I should probably go back to the Hayes family.” My adoptive mother couldn’t bear to let her go. She gently started asking about the Hayes family’s situation. When Olivia arrived today, she was wearing a faded, washed-out t-shirt. I knew my adoptive mother wasn’t saying it out loud, but she already assumed Olivia had a terrible life with the Hayes family and wanted her to stay immediately. Olivia looked hesitant. “Dad is a doctor, and Mom is a teacher. Even though they don’t make much money, squeezing into our tiny house together is still really happy.” I mentally highlighted the key words in Olivia’s speech: don’t make much money and tiny house. My adoptive mother’s face changed instantly. Her eyes filled with heartache. “Olivia, please don’t go back. Your final exams are tomorrow. Tossing and turning with all this traveling… I’m worried it will affect your performance.” My adoptive father thought for a moment before finally speaking up. “Give me the Hayes family’s contact info. I’ll communicate with them.” He made the call from his study, so none of us knew exactly what he said. But not long after, my biological parents appeared at the entrance of the Sterling mansion. The two sets of parents stayed in the living room to talk, while Olivia and I were sent back to our rooms. Because Olivia arrived so suddenly, my adoptive mother could only put her in the guest room for now. Once back in my room, I quickly organized my luggage and the supplies I needed for tomorrow’s exams. There really wasn’t much to pack. Since the day I realized I had transmigrated into a book, I had been preparing for this. I knew Olivia would show up eventually, and my time at the Sterlings was limited. It was better to be packed and ready than to be kicked out. I don’t know what they discussed downstairs, but my biological parents actually agreed to let me stay at the Sterlings’ house until my exams were over, after which we would do our own DNA test. When they were leaving, I walked them out. My biological mom took my hand, her voice incredibly gentle. “Can I call you Harper?” I nodded. “Of course.” She smiled warmly. “Harper, right now, nothing is more important than your exams. Whether we cry or laugh about this, let’s save it all for after you’re done testing, okay?” She spoke so softly, offering me endless comfort. I knew she was terrified that this sudden upheaval would ruin my state of mind. But how could it? In my past life, just like the original Harper, I was also my state’s Valedictorian. Olivia, on the other hand? In the original novel, after she reincarnated, she was so obsessed with scheming against Harper that she barely touched her textbooks. She ended up failing to even get into a community college. She still didn’t realize that in the original novel, both she and Harper were nothing more than cannon fodder meant to make the female lead look good. 3 Exam day arrived. Olivia and I were assigned to different testing centers. In the original book, Olivia played the insecure victim card, manipulating Mr. and Mrs. Sterling into driving her to the exam center together. Meanwhile, the original Harper—reeling from the double blow of finding out she wasn’t their real daughter and being suddenly neglected by the parents who raised her—performed disastrously on her first subject. Taking these exams is like a domino effect; if you mess up the start, your mental state shatters, ruining everything that follows. To top it off, later in the week, Olivia secretly tampered with Harper’s food, giving her severe food poisoning and forcing her to take the rest of her exams while violently ill. As a result, the Harper who was supposed to be Valedictorian ended up barely qualifying for a low-tier community college. Meanwhile, the original female lead—who had always been forever second place—effortlessly claimed the Valedictorian title. And Olivia? Even worse. Before her reincarnation, she had been out of school for years. She had forgotten everything and lacked the discipline to study. She couldn’t even get into a community college, so Mr. Sterling eventually paid an exorbitant fee to ship her off to an overseas diploma mill. Knowing Olivia was going to pull a stunt, I spoke up first at breakfast. I proactively suggested my adoptive parents drive her to the testing center. “I already scoped out my route yesterday. I know exactly how to get there, I can just take an Uber.” Oh, you want to play the innocent white lotus? Two can play that game. Hearing this, my adoptive mother looked instantly heartbroken for me. Olivia was caught completely off guard. She just sat there, mouth slightly open, desperately trying to maintain her fake, sweet smile. It was hilarious. My adoptive father frowned. “Harper, what nonsense are you talking about? Your mother will drive Olivia, and I will drive you.” In the original book, the Sterlings were actually always very good to Harper. Even after she moved back to the Hayes family, they frequently visited her. I flashed a harmless smile. “Okay!” The smile on Olivia’s face slowly vanished. 4 After the exams finished, the official DNA results came back. Unsurprisingly, Olivia was the Sterlings’ true daughter. The moment she saw the paperwork, Olivia shot me a provocative glare before throwing herself into Mrs. Sterling’s arms, sobbing loudly. Mr. Sterling stood to the side, silently lighting a cigarette. I walked up to him. “Dad, can we talk?” He instinctively put out the cigarette. He glanced at Mrs. Sterling and Olivia, who were crying their eyes out, and nodded. “Let’s go to the study.” I followed him in. The soundproofing in the Sterling house was top-tier. The moment the study door clicked shut, the crying vanished completely. I got straight to the point. “Dad, now that the results are out, I’m planning to move back to the Hayes house today.” He froze. “Harper, have you thought this through? Our family isn’t short on money. We can easily afford to raise both of our daughters.” In the original book, when Harper moved out, he tried to make her stay just like this. They say the bond of raising a child is stronger than blood. Eighteen years of living together isn’t something a piece of paper can just sever. I smiled gently. “Dad, from the moment I found out I wasn’t your biological daughter, I already made my decision.” “If I stay, Olivia will definitely feel uncomfortable. There will inevitably be friction between us. No matter who you and Mom side with, the other will feel wronged.” In this regard, I actually sympathized with Olivia. Having eighteen years of wealth and privilege taken from you? It’s completely normal for her to be resentful. But in this situation, both she and Harper were innocent victims of a hospital error. Harper’s biological parents never mistreated Olivia. Olivia’s miserable past life was entirely her own doing. She shouldn’t have pinned all that hatred on Harper. I continued, “Besides, my biological parents only have one daughter. If I stay here, what about them?” This was the responsibility the original Harper owed them. Since I had taken over her body, I had to fulfill that duty. Mr. Sterling fell silent for a long time before sighing. “Harper, you’ve grown up. You’re thinking about things much more thoroughly than before.” I replied softly, “People have to grow up eventually.” Looking guilty, he pulled a property deed out of his desk drawer. “I was originally going to give this to you as a gift when you started college. Take it with you to the Hayes house.” I shook my head and didn’t take it. “Dad, I’ll just pack the clothes you bought me and my personal items. I don’t need anything else.” In the original book, Olivia threw a massive fit at the Hayes house specifically because of this property. “Listen to me.” He forcefully pressed the deed into my hands. “I raised you for eighteen years. You are my daughter. Even if you go to the Hayes family, that will never change.” But in the end, I still didn’t accept it. I knew that if I took this multi-million dollar property, I wouldn’t be able to righteously put Olivia in her place the next time she tried to start drama. I understood the principle of not biting the hand that feeds you.

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I am the true heiress who was intentionally switched at birth. When my biological parents finally found me… I had already joined the neighborhood senior citizens’ Zumba squad. They looked at my bright, floral-embroidered velour tracksuit. And their faces twisted in absolute disgust. 1 “You’re Chloe? These clothes…” Seeing the bedazzled floral tracksuit I was wearing, the elegantly dressed woman faltered. Ignoring the fleeting look of disgust in her eyes, I dropped the twenty-pound bag of rice and the gallon jug of cooking oil from my shoulder, then pulled a giant Stanley tumbler out of my tote bag. After taking a slow sip of my iced tea, I looked at the group standing in front of me and asked, “So, you’re my biological parents?” Richard frowned but nodded. “Yes. We are your biological parents.” “And her?” I pointed at the frail, delicate-looking girl standing behind them. The girl’s eyes instantly welled up with tears. The two young men standing beside her—one older, one younger—instinctively stepped forward to shield her. “Don’t you dare bully Serena!” The younger one couldn’t hold back and yelled what was on his mind. I stared at the girl’s face, which shared a fifty-to-sixty percent resemblance to mine. Then I looked at the Sterling family’s protective attitude toward her. Instantly, I found this whole family incredibly amusing. I leaned back against my dilapidated sofa, watching them with the detached amusement of someone watching a soap opera. Perhaps realizing his brother’s outburst was inappropriate, the older guy stepped up to explain: “We know you’ve suffered a lot all these years, but that was all that woman’s fault. Serena is completely innocent…” Before he could finish his sentence, the door to my cramped apartment was pushed wide open. A massive group of aunties and grannies—all wearing the exact same floral velour tracksuit as me—swarmed inside. They instantly surrounded my biological parents, talking over each other to defend me: “So you’re our little Chloe’s real parents!” “What took you so long? Do you have any idea what Chloe has been through all these years?” “Let me tell you, that adopted mother of hers is a monster! You know those heavy wooden baseball bats? That woman would pick one up and beat her without a second thought!” “Exactly! Starving her was an everyday thing, but in the dead of winter, she purposely shredded Chloe’s winter coat so the poor girl had to walk to school in a ripped T-shirt. And during the state scholarship exams, she locked Chloe in her room so she couldn’t go!” “I always said there was no way a real mother could be that evil. Turns out, she really wasn’t!” “You need to have the cops arrest that woman! And you better investigate that fake daughter of yours, too. She probably knew her mom switched the babies on purpose…” “Wait, who’s crying?” Auntie Martha, who was leading the pack, suddenly paused. The group of aunties looked around to find the source of the sobbing, their eyes finally landing on the girl in the pristine white dress. “Sister, I’m… I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to steal your life, I…” The girl lowered her head, crying so hard her shoulders shook. “Is this her?” Auntie Martha’s eyes widened, putting a finger to her lips in a hushed motion. I nodded. “Yep. That’s Brenda Miller’s biological daughter, Serena Sterling.” 2 “Chloe, Brenda Miller is Brenda Miller. The things she did have absolutely nothing to do with Serena.” My biological older brother, Grayson Sterling, spoke up. The rest of the Sterling family nodded, completely agreeing with him. But these were women who survived the cutthroat gossip circles of the neighborhood. With a single exchanged glance, the aunties saw right through the dynamics. Before the Sterlings could say another word, Auntie Betty—a woman who refused to even coddle her own grandsons—went on the offensive. “Oh, please, you can’t spin it like that!” “Whether the girl is innocent or not is one thing. But by standing there crying like a victim, what is Chloe supposed to do? Is she supposed to turn around and comfort her?” Auntie Betty marched over and rolled up my sleeves, revealing the jagged scars on the backs of my hands. “Look at this! Her own mother burned her with a red-hot clothing iron!” “Now look at this girl. Draped in designer brands, raised with soft skin and delicate hands.” “If you expect Chloe to apologize to her and comfort her, do you honestly think that’s fair?” Auntie Betty then turned her sights on Serena. “Listen, little girl. Maybe we can’t blame you for what your mother did, but do you have any idea what kind of hell Chloe lived through for the past sixteen years because of her? Have some decency! Stop crying and playing the victim. Don’t you realize you’re just twisting the knife in Chloe’s heart?” With that, Auntie Betty wiped a tear with her sleeve and pulled me into a tight hug. “You poor, sweet child. You always keep everything bottled up. Before, you had no one to love you, but now your real parents are here! Surely they won’t play favorites and side with an outsider over you, right? These are your real parents! If you have grievances, you speak up!” “Chloe’s parents, am I right?” The entire squad of aunties turned their piercing gazes onto the Sterling parents. Richard and Catherine Sterling smiled awkwardly. “Yes, of course. If you feel wronged, tell Mom and Dad.” Choked by Auntie Betty’s words, Serena couldn’t say a thing. All she could do was stare at the Sterlings with red, watery eyes, biting her lip. 3 Before I got into the Sterlings’ luxury SUV, Auntie Betty shoved a shopping bag into my arms, claiming it was the dance squad’s new uniform. But inside was a brand-new, trendy athletic outfit. I knew the aunties were worried I wouldn’t have decent clothes for my new school, so they all chipped in to buy this for me. I quietly thanked them, handed over the discounted eggs I had fought for at the supermarket, and securely locked my new bag of rice and cooking oil in the cabinet. Standing nearby, Grayson reminded me that there was no need to lock things up; I would never be coming back to this dump. I tilted my head, glancing at the Sterling parents and the younger brother huddled behind Grayson, whispering comforting words to Serena. I just smiled at him and didn’t say a word. Grayson looked back, then couldn’t help but say: “Chloe, Serena didn’t mean it. She really feels guilty toward you. She’s cried about it at home so many times…” “Ah, yes. Sure, sure.” I brushed him off, grabbed the new clothes the aunties gave me, slung my backpack over my shoulder, and slid straight into the car. In the car, I looked at my phone while the Sterlings looked at me. Auntie Martha sent me $500 on Venmo: [This is a little something from the aunties. Do not refuse it!] Auntie Betty messaged the group chat: [Chloe, honey, if you don’t feel comfortable over there, you just come right back home.] The other aunties chimed in with their agreement. Everyone in our neighborhood was working-class. Even though the aunties were retired, they lived on meager pensions of less than a thousand dollars a month. Women like Auntie Betty still worked at the farmer’s market just to make ends meet. Every dollar they spent on me over the years was saved by literally taking food out of their own mouths. Sending me such a huge amount of money now meant they had noticed my biological parents’ blatant favoritism and were terrified I would suffer in the Sterling house. “Chloe, honey… your outfit.” Catherine Sterling frowned at my bedazzled tracksuit, finally unable to hold her tongue. “From now on, you are a daughter of the Sterling family. Your attire and manners need to be appropriate.” “And at your age, you should be making friends with people your own age. Broaden your horizons, expand your social circles, instead of hanging around those… elderly women every day.” “In this regard, you can learn a lot from Serena. It’ll also help the two of you bond as sisters.” Catherine spoke with utmost sincerity, and Serena, of course, played along perfectly. She reached out to grab my hand, her attitude so artificially affectionate it gave me goosebumps. “Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll make sure to teach my sister everything.” “Sister, when we get home, I’ll pick out a few nice outfits for you from my closet. As for what you’re wearing, let’s just have the housekeeper throw it away.” “Yeah,” Mason, sitting next to Serena, chimed in. “I don’t even know what that garbage is on your back. It’s hideous. If you dress like that from now on, don’t tell anyone you’re a Sterling. It’s humiliating.” I paused, stopped typing a reply to my beloved aunties, and looked at the group with a bright smile. “But do you know why I’m always wearing these grandma tracksuits?” 4 “Because her mother—Brenda Miller—shredded all my clothes so I couldn’t go to school. And that wasn’t all. When the neighbors couldn’t stand watching me freeze and gave me their old hand-me-downs, she burned and cut those up, too.” “Later, those aunties you look down on came up with a plan. They recruited me into their dance crew as a helper. They told Brenda these tracksuits were the team’s official property. If she destroyed them, she’d have to pay the crew back in cash. Only then was I able to wear these tracksuits and leave the house like a normal person.” “Oh, right. Do you know why your mother tried to stop me from going to school?” I stared dead into Serena’s eyes. “It’s because during the middle school math decathlon, she realized you and I were testing at the same regional center. She suddenly realized that if I kept succeeding in school, the truth might be exposed.” “And speaking of… Auntie Martha and the others were too polite to say it earlier. Do you know what Brenda Miller did on the day of my final high school scholarship exams?” “She locked me in a room and let a creepy old drifter inside. She said she sold me to him for three hundred bucks, telling him he could take my virginity…” “Stop it!” Catherine’s face went deathly pale. She clutched her chest, looking as if she couldn’t bear to hear another word. The rest of the Sterlings looked sick to their stomachs, completely at a loss for words. “Heh.” I chuckled softly, as if oblivious to their expressions. “So you see, you really should be thanking my aunties. If they hadn’t smashed the door down, dragged me out of there, and personally driven me to the testing center, I would either be dead right now, or chained in a drifter’s basement, probably already a mother of three.” The entire car went dead silent. I curled my lips into a smile, leaned back against the leather seat, and closed my eyes to rest. Perhaps my words were a little too hardcore. As soon as we arrived at the Sterling estate, my biological parents used “urgent work” as an excuse and fled the scene. Unable to withstand my gaze, Serena and Mason quickly scurried away, too. Leaving only my eldest brother, Grayson, to take me to my prepared room—a converted guest bedroom on the first floor. I glanced up the stairs where Serena and Mason had vanished, and simply smiled at Grayson. Grayson instantly looked embarrassed. He quickly explained, “This is just temporary. I’ll have the empty suite on the second floor renovated for you, and then you can move upstairs.” Seeing that I just kept smiling without a word, his expression darkened. “Chloe, we know you suffered a lot, but all of that is in the past. Mom, Dad, and I will make it up to you. Why must you aggressively cling to the past and embarrass everyone like this?” “Embarrass?” I asked as I slowly paced around the room. “Did you not see Mom and Dad’s faces just now?” he said, his tone full of reprimand. “And not just them, but Serena. How do you expect her to live in this house after hearing the horrifying things you said?” I spotted a heavy, cylindrical wooden sculpture on the desk. My eyes lit up. I grabbed it and swung it hard right into Grayson’s back. Hit out of nowhere, Grayson stumbled forward, clutching his back and glaring at me in fury. “Are you insane?!” I weighed the wooden baton in my hand and smiled. “Does it hurt?” “What do you think?!” Grayson looked at me like I was a psychopath. “Chloe Miller, apologize right now!” “But I hit you seconds ago, so it’s already in the past. Besides, this strike is barely a tickle compared to what I’ve endured. Why must you aggressively cling to the past and embarrass me, brother?” I repeated his exact tone and words back to him. Grayson choked on his rage. I just waved my hand at him and shut the door in his face. “Bye, brother.”

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