Category: English

On the day of my agonizing labor, I fought with everything I had to bring my husband’s child into the world. Ben wept with relief, pressing his forehead against mine, his eyes full of deep, aching tenderness. “Jess, he is perfect. He is healthy, and he looks just like you. The doctor gave you a sedative, sweetheart. Just close your eyes and rest.” I squeezed his hand, a weak smile brushing my lips. The Monroes had struggled with fertility for generations. After years of painful injections and endless medication, I had finally delivered a healthy baby boy. But just before the darkness claimed me, the muffled voices of my husband and my brother, Nate, drifted through the heavy haze of the sedative. “Do it, Nate. Rainey might have been adopted by our family, but she has always been fragile and insecure. She compares herself to Jess in everything.” “This time, because her own baby was born with a dark birthmark, she has been completely devastated. If she finds out Jess gave birth to a perfectly healthy boy, it will break her.” Nate’s hands trembled as he held the surgical shears. “Ben, are you sure? This might be the only child you ever have. You really want to clip his finger and make him disabled?” My heart constricted violently. The blood in my veins turned to ice. “Don’t talk about it, Nate.” Ben’s voice wavered, but then it hardened with terrifying resolve. “We already agreed. Rainey has suffered too much. Protecting her is our responsibility. If I wasn’t bound to Jess by that childhood arrangement, well, forget it. I’ve already failed Rainey in this life. Nothing matters more than keeping her happy from now on.” I tried to wake up, screaming inside, but my limbs felt like lead. 1 But my body betrayed me. Under the heavy weight of the sedative, I could not even flutter my eyelids. A sharp, piercing wail of a newborn shattered the quiet of the room. Nate’s voice drifted over again, carrying a faint, relieved chuckle. “It’s done. Go tell Rainey the good news. This should cheer her up.” Ben’s response was eager and hurried. “Thanks, Nate. I’ll leave the rest to you.” I lay there, my body frozen, feeling as though I had been plunged into an abyss. That desperate cry echoed in my mind, refusing to fade. “No!” I jolted awake, gasping for air. Looking around the unfamiliar recovery room, my heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. I threw off the blanket, desperately trying to get out of bed, but a pair of strong, familiar hands caught my shoulders, pinning me down. “What’s wrong, Jess?” Ben looked down at me, his eyes wide with concern. “You just gave birth. You are incredibly weak. The doctor said you cannot get out of bed yet.” “Where is my baby?” I stared at him, my gaze cutting like a knife. Ben’s eyes rimmed with red. He hesitated, looking away before speaking in a low, choked voice. “Jess, I am going to tell you the truth, but you have to stay calm.” “The baby, he was born with a congenital defect. His middle finger is missing half its length. Nate took him to a specialist right away to see if there is any way to reconstruct it.” “Don’t worry.” He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me tight against his chest. “No matter what it takes, no matter the cost, I will find a way to fix our son.” Listening to his shameless lie, my chest tightened. It felt as though a thousand needles were piercing my heart over and over, suffocating me. I pushed him away with all the strength I could muster. “I want to see my baby. Now!” I stumbled toward the door, my legs trembling. Just as I reached the hallway, I ran headfirst into Nate. He was cradling a sleeping infant in his arms. A gasp of relief escaped my throat. I snatched the baby from him, immediately unwrapping the blanket to check his tiny hands. Ten perfect fingers. Not a single scratch. Wait. Something was wrong. My hands shook, and I nearly dropped the child. Nate quickly took the baby back, glaring at me with deep disapproval. “You are a mother now, Jess. How can you be so careless? Rainey’s baby is the pride of our family. What if you had dropped him?” Ignoring his scolding, I gripped his arm. “Where is my baby, Nate? Ben said you took him. Where is he?” Nate blinked, a sudden look of guilt crossing his face. “Oh. I ran into Rainey on the way, and she needed to use the restroom. I just left your baby on the plastic chairs by the elevator.” The world seemed to spin. I pushed past him and ran down the corridor. Ben chased after me, calling my name. But then, a soft, delicate voice echoed from behind us. “Ben.” The hurried footsteps behind me stopped instantly. Mercifully, my baby was still on the bench. Two kind strangers were standing guard over him. I wept as I thanked them, cradling my son against my chest. Looking down at his tiny, bandaged hand, a fresh wave of agony washed over me. When I carried my baby back to the room, sound of laughter drifted through the half-open door. Ben and Nate were huddled around Rainey, eagerly playing with the baby in her arms. They looked like a perfect, happy family. And I felt like the stray they had accidentally brought home. I wiped a tear from my baby’s soft cheek, turned around, and walked to the nurse’s station to borrow a phone. I dialed a number I hadn’t called in years. “I’ve decided to join the classified research project.” The voice on the other end lit up with excitement. “Jess! I am so glad you finally realized how much the department needs you. But this project is a ten-year commitment in a secure, isolated facility. Are you sure you can leave your family behind? What about the baby?” “I am bringing my son with me,” I whispered, my voice thick with unshed tears. “But I have one condition.” “Name it.” “Help me find the best pediatric reconstructive surgeon in the world. We need to leave within the week.” The line went quiet for a moment, the tone shifting to one of serious concern. “Jess, what happened?” “Please don’t ask. Just help me.” A heavy sigh came through the receiver. “Alright. Consider it done. I will have everything arranged within seven days.” 2 “Jess.” Rainey was the first to notice me standing at the door. Her soft call made the two men freeze, the cheerful smiles on their faces instantly turning into awkward grimaces. Ben quickly hurried toward me. “Jess, is the baby okay?” I didn’t say a word. I walked past him, heading straight for my bed. “Please don’t be sad, Jess.” Rainey handed her baby to Nate, then reached into her bag, pulling out a delicate gold bracelet and a matching lock charm. “Ben and Nate got these for my baby. They had them blessed at a temple to keep him safe and healthy.” “But I want your baby to have them instead. I am sure your little boy will get better soon. Don’t worry.” I looked down at the gleaming gold pieces. Before Rainey’s baby was even born, I had watched Ben spend weeks meticulously choosing these exact gifts. At the time, I foolishly thought they were for our child. It was all a lie. “No, thank you,” I said, my voice cold and flat. “Since it was a gift of love from them to your child, my son doesn’t deserve to wear it.” Rainey’s hand hovered in the air, her knuckles whitening as she gripped the gold. “Jess, are you still angry with me? Do you still think I am trying to steal what is yours?” Her lower lip trembled, and her face grew pale. I wanted to laugh. Had she ever stopped? From the moment she was adopted into our home at ten years old, she had taken over my life. On her very first night, she claimed she was afraid of the dark, and my parents gave her half of my bedroom. Later, when she caught a mild cold, she said she was afraid of making me sick, and I was permanently moved to a tiny, drafty spare room down the hall. When I was thirteen, I scored the highest marks in the city. Nate bought me a limited-edition Lego set as a reward. Rainey cried in her room for an hour, and by evening, my Lego set belonged to her. My new dresses became her dresses. Even the university I fought so hard to get into, she entered right alongside me, riding on the coattails of my family’s connections. And then there was Ben. He was my childhood friend. When he knelt and proposed to me, I finally believed there was something in this world that belonged solely to me. But it was only because of a stupid childhood arrangement between our parents. How blind had I been? It took the mutilation of my own son to finally wake me up to the truth. Seeing my silence, Rainey stuffed the gold lock into Ben’s hand. “Forget it, Ben. Since Jess is unhappy, you should take it back.” Ben’s face darkened instantly. “Jess, it is just a gold lock. If you want one, I will buy you another. There is no need to make a scene and ruin everyone’s day.” I turned away, too exhausted to argue. My body was still aching, and my energy was rapidly draining. I placed my baby gently into his bassinet, intending to lie down and rest. But Rainey suddenly lunged forward. Seeing her hands reaching directly toward my baby’s bassinet, right toward his injured hand, panic surged through me. I threw my weight forward, pushing her away. The next second, a stinging slap cracked across my face. The force of the blow made my ears ring. I turned my head slowly, looking at Ben. His hand was still raised in the air, his expression icy and furious as he held a trembling Rainey in his arms. “Jess, how can you be so vicious?” “Over a gold lock, you would put your hands on your own sister?” “Do you have any idea how bad Rainey’s back injury is? If I hadn’t caught her, she would have slammed into the sharp edge of that table!” Nate stepped forward, his eyes cold. “I saw the whole thing, Jess. Rainey just lost her balance, and instead of helping her, you shoved her.” “You grew up in the same house, ate the same food. How did you turn out so incredibly selfish and cruel?” “Apologize to Rainey. Now.” 3 I was the cruel one? Rainey had targeted my baby’s bandaged hand on purpose. She had been standing perfectly fine, yet somehow, she managed to lose her balance on a flat, even floor. Looking at the two of them shielding her like she was a fragile glass doll, a bitter laugh escaped my lips. “I am sorry, Rainey.” Rainey sniffled, leaning into Ben’s chest before stepping back. “It’s okay. I know Jess didn’t mean to.” Ben’s expression softened slightly. “I will have my assistant buy another gold lock and send it over. You don’t need to be jealous of Rainey.” I didn’t even bother to smile. My child would never need anything from him again. On the day I was discharged, Ben had promised to pick me up. But by the time I took a taxi back to the Taylor residence, he was nowhere to be found. Instead, I saw Rainey’s latest social media update. “Taking the baby for his vaccinations. I am so terrified of needles, but thankfully, I have someone here to keep us safe.” The post was accompanied by a photo of a man’s back, a baby resting on his shoulder. I didn’t even need to zoom in. I recognized the slope of those shoulders instantly. It was Ben. The ringing of my phone broke my train of thought. “Jess, I have managed to contact a world-class reconstructive surgeon. But he is currently in Europe and cannot travel here. You will need to bring the baby to him.” “Okay,” I said, a weight lifting from my chest. “I will pack our things and leave tomorrow.” “Going where?” Nate’s voice startled me. He was standing near the doorway, his brow furrowed in disapproval. I quickly locked my phone, my voice returning to a neutral calm. “A friend recommended a private wellness retreat. I am going to check it out.” He didn’t press further, his tone turning indifferent. “Rainey is coming back to stay for a few days. If you don’t have any pressing business, you should leave early.” My grip tightened on the phone. Ten years of secure, classified research meant I would not see this place again for a very long time. Before leaving, I simply wanted to spend one last night in the house where my parents had raised me. Five years ago, I refused to give up my research assistant position to Rainey. In a fit of tears, Rainey had run out of the house. Our parents had chased after her into the rainy night, only to be hit by a truck. Since that day, Nate had hated me. He believed I was the one who killed them. “I will be gone tomorrow morning,” I said quietly. “Good.” Before dinner, Ben walked through the door, carrying Rainey’s bags. “Ben, when that needle went into the baby’s arm, I couldn’t even look. I am so glad you were there,” Rainey said, her voice dripping with sweet affection. Ben gave her a gentle smile, but then his eyes found me, and he quickly walked over. “Jess, I spent the afternoon consulting with several specialists about our son’s hand. That’s why I couldn’t pick you up. Nate told me you came here. Why didn’t you call me?” Rainey’s eyes flashed with a sudden spark of jealousy, though she quickly masked it with a sweet smile. I tested the temperature of the formula on my wrist, gently placing the bottle into my baby’s mouth. “I forgot,” I replied, not looking up. He hesitated, reaching out to touch the baby. “You must be exhausted, sweetheart. Let me hold him.” I subtly shifted my shoulder, shielding my baby from his touch. His hand froze in midair, his face tightening as he slowly drew back. That night, my baby’s soft whimpering woke me. Before I could even open my eyes, low whispers from the hallway drifted through the door. “Ben, can my baby call you Daddy?”

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1 For our third anniversary, three-year-old Nate brought home an alpaca. “Her name is Sugar!” he chirped. “I bought her for you!” Garrick smiled. “He spent hours picking her out. He said she’d keep you company.” The alpaca tilted its head, its dark eyes sweeping over me with a cold, calculating stare. The moment I thanked my son, it opened its jaws. Pfft! A thick, foul gob of spit hit my face. I calmly wiped it away. I had been reborn. In my past life, the abuse started the same way. I spent two years trying to win it over while it spat at me constantly. Yet Garrick and Nate received nothing but affection. My husband called me petty; my son accused me of being mean. I developed auditory hallucinations and nightmares before swallowing a bottle of pills. As my soul drifted toward the ceiling, I heard the truth: the alpaca housed the soul of Archie, my fragile adopted sister who had stolen my life for twenty years. She had been sickly since childhood, the pampered darling of my biological family. When I was finally brought back to the mansion, everyone treated me like an uncultured, dirty intruder. Only Garrick seemed to love me. He married me and gave me a home. I thought it was true love. In reality, he just needed a healthy vessel to house Archie’s soul. Even the son I had carried for nine months was created from Archie’s harvested egg, secretly swapped during my IVF treatment. My own parents were in on the plot. Their cruelty toward me was designed to isolate me, forcing me to cling desperately to Garrick. Every time that alpaca spat on me, Archie’s soul pushed a little deeper into my body. After two years of torture, they had finally succeeded in erasing me. But now, my eyes flew open. I was back on our wedding anniversary. Garrick’s smile faltered, a hint of awkwardness crossing his face. Nate’s little face darkened, and he slapped my hand away. “Mommy! You scared Sugar!” He threw his arms around the alpaca’s neck, cooing softly. The alpaca leaned into him, rubbing her head against his cheek. At the same time, it cast a sly, triumphant glance at me. I smiled. “Since she doesn’t seem to like me, I probably won’t be a good owner. Why don’t we send her back?” 2 Nate panicked, screaming, “No!” Garrick’s expression shifted, and he quickly intervened. “Sugar is just nervous because it’s her first day. Give it some time. This is Nate’s special gift to you. Don’t throw away our boy’s sweet gesture.” I watched their faces. Both of them were incredibly tense, terrified their perfect little plan was about to fall apart. I nodded slowly. “You’re right. I love the gift. Sugar is her name, right? I’ll make sure to take very good care of her.” Nate let out a sigh of relief, and the tension left Garrick’s shoulders. I crouched down, ruffling my son’s hair with a smile. “Go on and set up her room. Since she loves you both so much, she’ll definitely love whatever space you arrange. Let me spend some quiet time with her to build a connection.” I nudged them toward the study, then led the alpaca out to the courtyard. Before we even reached the grass, she opened her mouth to spit. I dodged easily. The glob of green bile hissed as it hit the stone tiles, bubbling faintly. That wasn’t normal animal saliva. It was the concentrated malice of Archie’s rotten soul. Garrick peeked through the door one last time before shutting it, satisfied. Now, it was just me and the beast. She tilted her head, her eyes flashing with pure defiance. She opened her mouth to try again. But I was prepared. I reached behind my back and pulled out a long aluminum catch pole with a sturdy U-shaped collar at the end. With practiced precision, I pinned her neck to the grass. She thrashed wildly, her hooves kicking at the dirt, but she couldn’t break my grip. I leaned down, my voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “Listen to me, you miserable parasite. I’m the one who’s going to be home with you all day. If you push me, I will make your life a living hell.” “I could drive this metal pole straight through your neck right now and claim it was an accident. Do you want to test me?” Terror flashed in her eyes, and she let out a desperate, wheezing shriek. Hearing the commotion, Garrick and Nate rushed outside, their faces pale with anger. “Audrey! What the hell are you doing?!” Garrick roared. Nate charged like a little cannonball, shoving me aside. “You mean woman! Don’t hurt Sugar!” I stepped back smoothly, retracting the pole. The alpaca scrambled to her feet, running straight to her protectors, her eyes locked on me in sheer terror. I raised my hands, looking entirely innocent. “Why are you both so upset? I was just playing with her.” “Look, the collar is padded with soft foam. It doesn’t hurt her at all.” The two of them froze, their mouths agape, completely speechless. I smiled gently. “I told you, I wanted to build a connection with our new family member.” It took Garrick a moment to find his voice. He patted Nate’s back. “Apologize to your mother, Nate. You shouldn’t speak to her like that.” Nate mumbled a reluctant apology. I turned and walked back into the living room, masking the freezing cold in my eyes. This time, I was going to make Archie pay back every single drop of torment she owed me. 3 That night, Nate didn’t ask for his usual bedtime story. “I want Sugar to sleep with me, Mommy,” he declared, hopping onto the alpaca’s back and riding her into his room. Garrick watched their retreat, his eyes filled with a tenderness I had never received. Seeing how tightly Nate clung to that animal, a sharp pain pricked my heart. But then I reminded myself: he wasn’t my child. No matter how much I loved him, he would always be Archie’s spawn. Half an hour later, Nate fell asleep. The alpaca trotted casually out of his room. I reached out to lead her to the study, but she leaped back, dodging my hand. Instantly, she spat another wet glob onto my blouse. Garrick walked up, placing a hand on her neck. “Audrey, Sugar doesn’t want to sleep in the cold study. Why don’t we let her sleep in our room?” He stroked her head lovingly. “Come on, Sugar. Be sweet to Mommy.” The alpaca tilted her head and delivered another wet pfft right at me. I grabbed a few tissues, calmly wiped my shirt, and headed to the bedroom. “I’m a light sleeper. If she keeps spitting at me in the middle of the night, I’ll never get any rest. Put her in the study.” My expression must have been terrifyingly cold because Garrick didn’t push further. “Fine. I guess Sugar will have to make do tonight.” Before he closed the study door, the alpaca glared at me, her eyes dripping with pure venom. In the middle of the night, I drifted into a light sleep. Suddenly, I felt a warm, wet breath on my face. Then, a freezing sensation. I snapped my eyes open. The alpaca was standing right by the mattress, her face hovering inches from mine, her throat working as she prepped another blast. I didn’t know how she had unlocked the doors, but I was ready. The moment I woke up in this new life, I had traveled to the outskirts of the city to St. Jude’s Hermitage. There, Reverend Silas had given me a powerful spiritual warding talisman. I reached under my pillow and gripped the paper amulet tightly. Instantly, the alpaca froze. It was as if an invisible, iron hand had clamped around her windpipe. She tried to scream, but only a wet rattle came out. Her legs buckled, and she collapsed onto the floor, trembling violently as the dark light in her eyes faded significantly. I grabbed a wet wipe and slowly cleaned my skin, staring down at her. “How does that feel?” She couldn’t answer. She could only shiver in agony. The next morning, Nate ran straight to the study, only to find the alpaca slumped on the floor. Her fleece was dull, and her eyes were half-closed. “What’s wrong with Sugar?!” he shrieked. Garrick rushed over. The alpaca weakly raised her head, looking at him with desperate, pathetic eyes. He whirled on me, his face contorted with rage. “Did you beat her because she snuck into our room last night?” Nate glared at me, tears of anger in his eyes. “You’re a bad mom! You made Sugar sick!” I knelt down, looking calmly into Nate’s eyes. “Nate, I slept the entire night. I didn’t touch her. She’s probably just struggling to adapt to a new home.” “But don’t either of you find it strange? How did an alpaca manage to open two locked doors to get into our bedroom?” My question caught them off guard. Their expressions tightened in panic. Sensing the shift, the alpaca summoned the last of her strength to spit right onto my knee. Nate threw his arms around her, sobbing. “Look! She’s so sick and she still hates you! You must have done something horrible to her yesterday!” Garrick sneered. “Audrey, when did you become so incredibly petty? Picking fights with a helpless animal? She only spits at you because she senses your malice. You need to look in the mirror and reflect on your own toxic behavior!” The last spark of warmth in my heart died completely. In my past life, it was always the same. Whether it was the alpaca or Archie, whenever there was a conflict, I was always the villain. But Archie was the fake daughter who had stolen my identity. While she grew up wrapped in luxury, I was digging through trash to pay for my school supplies. While she was pampered, my adoptive parents tried to sell me to a remote village for a dowry. They had even used my body to bear her child. Yet, to them, Archie was always the fragile victim, even while she was actively stealing my life. I wiped the spit from my knee and walked away. This time, I wouldn’t give them a single inch. 4 I locked myself in the bedroom, pulling a small vial of consecrated elixir from my drawer. Reverend Silas had blessed it. If the alpaca consumed it, the soul-transfer would backfire. Every time she spat, Archie’s soul would tear away from my body and dissipate. The more she spat, the faster she would fade. But the beast was clever. Whenever I tried to feed her, she kicked the bowl over. She would only eat when Garrick or Nate offered the food. “You have no patience,” Nate complained. “That’s why she hates you!” Garrick chimed in. “You need to try harder to win her over. Stop looking so miserable around her. If she doesn’t like you, do something sweet to please her. Our son went to so much trouble for this gift.” I laughed inwardly, but kept my expression perfectly submissive. “I understand. I’ll be more gentle.” I knelt down, offering a handful of clover to the alpaca. “Come on, sweet girl. Just take one bite.” She didn’t even look at the food. Instead, she kicked me hard, sending me sprawling to the ground, before spitting on my shoulder. Nate didn’t even check to see if I was hurt. He snatched the clover from my hand and fed it to her himself. The alpaca cast a smug, mocking look at me as she chewed slowly. Nate glared at me. “Sugar is sensitive. She knows you’re secretly evil!” I hid my smile as I watched her swallow every last bite of the clover. I knew she wouldn’t take it from me. I had intentionally provoked Nate to feed her myself. Because that entire batch of feed had been thoroughly soaked in the elixir. That evening at dinner, Garrick made an announcement. “The preschool has a week-long trip to Europe next week. I’ll take Nate.” Nate cheered happily. I set my fork down, looking at them. In my past life, I was the one who went on every school trip. Garrick was taking him this time for one reason: to leave me entirely alone with the alpaca. He wanted Archie to finish taking over my body. I smiled warmly. “Have a wonderful trip. Don’t worry about Sugar. I’ll take great care of her.” Garrick nodded, satisfied, and Nate actually gave me a rare smile. The next morning, I waved them off at the gate. The alpaca stood by my side, whimpering as she watched the car disappear. She rubbed her head against Garrick’s hand and nuzzled Nate’s cheek before they left. The moment the car cleared the driveway, my smile vanished. Sensing the shift in the air, the alpaca whipped her head around to spit. I dodged easily, swinging the metal catch pole to pin her neck to the gate. I bound her tightly to the post. Then, I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I had saved days ago. “Hello, is this the Apex Circus? I heard you recently imported a new male alpaca.” The director laughed over the line. “Oh, yes! A massive beast from South America. He’s incredibly strong, but he’s in constant heat and tearing up the enclosures. We’re at our wits’ end.” The alpaca locked her eyes on me, her body stiffening with dread. “I have a female here,” I said smoothly. “She’s ripe for breeding. I’ll donate her to your program.” The director gasped in delight. “Really? When can you bring her over?” “Today.” I hung up and looked down at the trembling animal. She understood every word. I tightened the rope around her neck, offering her a sweet, merciless smile. “Don’t worry, sweet girl. Your best days are just beginning. And don’t you dare complain if your new husband spits too much.”

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Friday night, we sat down to dinner. Halfway through, Lisa looked up. “Daddy, when are we moving into the new house?” I froze. “What house?” Teri forced a smile. “Just a nice neighborhood we drove past.” “No!” Lisa insisted. “Silas took us. He said it was built for me and Mommy. I get a princess room with glowing stars!” My fork hit the bowl with a sharp clink. Teri went white. “He said I can call him Daddy,” Lisa added, eyes wide. “He bought me dresses. They’re already in the closet.” She slapped her hands over her mouth. “Mommy said not to tell you.” Teri yanked her up. “Go brush your teeth!” “Wait.” My voice stopped her cold. “Who is Silas?” “A colleague,” she whispered. “A colleague who buys my daughter houses and tells her to call him Daddy?” Lisa peeked out, voice small. “He’ll be so good to me, Daddy.” She wasn’t scared of losing me. She was already looking forward to the day I was gone. 1 “When exactly were you planning to let me in on this?” Teri’s hand was still clamped onto Lisa’s shoulder. Her knuckles were white. Lisa shrank back, wincing. “Mommy, you are hurting me. Did I say the wrong thing again?” Teri immediately dropped to a crouch, her voice dropping into a sickly sweet, soothing register. “No, sweetie. You go to your room for a bit. Mommy needs to have a grown up talk with Daddy.” Lisa glanced at me. In the past, whenever she looked at me like that, she was waiting for me to swoop in and rescue her from trouble. But today, that look was different. She was terrified I was going to ruin her shiny new princess room. “Daddy, please do not yell at Mommy.” I just looked at her. “I have not even raised my voice.” Lisa’s bottom lip trembled. “Silas says men who raise their voices have no manners.” Teri’s face morphed into absolute horror. “Lisa. Go to your room. Now.” The bedroom door clicked shut, leaving only the two of us in the dining room. I looked at my wife. “I want Silas’s full name.” She avoided my eyes. “Silas Vance.” “Who the hell is Silas Vance?” “He is the behavioral consultant for the new pediatrics project at the hospital.” “And your hospital consultants make a habit of taking other men’s wives and children on real estate tours?” Teri furrowed her brows, pivoting to defense. “Nolan, do you have to make it sound so dirty?” A dry, humorless laugh escaped my throat. “Then enlighten me. Tell me how I should phrase it. Silas Vance prepares a brand new home for you and my daughter, teaches my kid to call him Daddy, and I am supposed to praise him for his charity work?” Her expression darkened. “You are incredibly emotionally unstable right now.” “Another man is walking my daughter through a house he bought for her, and I am supposed to be stable enough to give you both a standing ovation?” Teri snapped, her patience apparently exhausted. “So what do you want to do? Terrify the child? Tear this house apart and scream until the cops show up?” I stared at her. “You are terrified of me making a scene, but you were not terrified of him crossing the line?” She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Her phone buzzed on the table. She instinctively reached for it. I was faster. I slammed my hand down over the screen. Caller ID: Silas. Her eyes widened, a flash of genuine panic settling in her pupils. “Nolan, give me the phone.” “Answer it.” “Stop acting like a child.” “Answer it and put it on speaker.” Teri took a deep breath, wearing the exhausted expression of a woman dealing with a lunatic. She tapped the screen. A man’s voice floated through the speaker. Smooth. Warm. Cultivated. “Teri? Did Lisa let the secret slip?” The dining room plunged into a suffocating silence. Teri squeezed her eyes shut. Silas let out a gentle, forgiving chuckle. “It is alright. Do not panic. If Nolan is upset, I am more than happy to explain it to him. Lisa likes me because I offer her genuine presence and companionship. It does not mean I am trying to replace anyone.” I kept my eyes locked on Teri. She did not hang up. Silas continued, his tone dripping with pseudo psychological wisdom. “Honestly, I have always believed that family dynamics should not be held hostage by biology. If a child naturally gravitates toward someone, it simply means that person provides her with a deeper sense of safety.” I finally spoke. “If you are such an expert on safety, Silas, why did you not consult the girl’s actual father before playing house?” A brief pause on the other end. When he spoke again, his voice was even softer, dripping with condescension. “Nolan, I completely validate your feelings of inadequacy right now. It is very common for traditional fathers to struggle when they realize they are being outpaced in their child’s heart.” “You take my kid house hunting, and you call that outpacing me?” “I am simply allowing Lisa to experience the standard of living she actually deserves.” Teri finally broke her silence. “Silas. That is enough.” But Silas ignored her entirely. “Teri, you do not have to keep covering for his shortcomings. You told me yourself how exhausting these past few years have been. If a husband’s only contribution is cooking dinners and doing school drop offs, but he cannot provide his wife with actual emotional value, the marriage is bound to fracture.” The words hung in the air like a toxic cloud. I looked at Teri. She could not meet my gaze. I asked, “You told him that?” Her throat bobbed. Her voice was tight. “I was just venting. Everyone vents.” “You vented so thoroughly that he went out and bought a house for you and my kid?” Teri lunged forward and ended the call. “Nolan, fine. I admit I failed to maintain proper boundaries. But do not look at me like I am some kind of whore.” “Where is the house?” “What?” “The house Silas mentioned. Where is it?” She stayed quiet for a long moment. “It is just a model home that belongs to a friend of his.” I picked up my car keys from the counter. “Let’s go see it. Right now.” Total panic finally shattered her composure. “Lisa needs to sleep.” “She has already been there. The route should be familiar.” “Nolan!” She hissed my name, her tone thick with warning. “Do not push me.” I stared her down. “What are you so terrified of?” She did not answer. The door to the children’s room cracked open just an inch. Lisa stood in the gap, clutching her stuffed bunny. She whispered, “Daddy, the keys to the new house are in Mommy’s purse. Silas said the front door is going to have a scanner for my fingerprint.” Teri whipped her head around. “Lisa!” The little girl flinched and vanished back into the room. I looked at Teri’s designer handbag resting on the back of the dining chair. Teri practically threw her body in front of it. “Nolan, if you go through my bag, that is a violation of my privacy.” My hand stopped mid air. That word used to work like magic. She asked for respect, so I backed off. She asked for space, so I gave it. She asked me not to let the child see us argue, so I swallowed every ounce of my pride and kept the peace. Today, I was done backing off. “Fine. Get them out yourself.” She glared at me, her eyes slowly filling with tears. “You are treating me like a criminal in an interrogation room.” “Think of it however you want. I am just reading my own execution order.” She froze. I reached past her and grabbed the bag. She panicked, her fingers wrapping frantically around my wrist. “That house has absolutely nothing to do with you.” I looked down at her hands gripping my skin. “My daughter’s fingerprints are programmed into the door, and you are telling me it has nothing to do with me?” She bit her lip so hard it turned white. I tipped the bag. Contents spilled across the hardwood floor. A heavy keychain hit the ground. The metal tag flipped over, catching the light. Four words were elegantly engraved into the steel. Val & Lisa’s Haven. My name was nowhere to be found. From the bedroom, Lisa’s tiny voice called out. “Mommy, did Daddy find the keys?” I bent down, picked up the keychain, and held it right in front of Teri’s face. “Tomorrow night, you are taking me to see this haven.” She stood there, paralyzed, refusing to take the keys. “If you do not take me,” I said, my voice dead calm. “I will just have Lisa give me the directions.” All the blood rushed out of Teri’s face. It took her a long time to force out a single sentence. “You are going to regret this, Nolan.” 2 “Daddy, I do not want you to take me to school today.” The next morning, Lisa stood in the entryway with her little pink backpack. Her voice was barely a whisper. I was kneeling on the floor, tying her shoelaces. My hands stalled. “Why not?” She threw a nervous glance toward the bathroom. Teri was leaning against the sink, applying her lipstick. She acted like she heard nothing. Lisa looked down, picking at the straps of her backpack. “Silas said he was driving right past my school today. He said he could take me.” I pulled the laces tight and tied a perfect knot. “Did your mother say yes?” Teri finally spoke up from the bathroom. “It is on his way to work. After the terrifying stunt you pulled last night, it is perfectly normal that she does not want to sit in a car with you.” “Terrifying stunt?” She capped her lipstick with a sharp click. Her voice was ice. “Nolan, Lisa had nightmares all night. She dreamt about you throwing things. She dreamt you did not want her anymore.” Lisa immediately chimed in, backing up her mother. “Daddy, your eyes looked really scary yesterday.” I looked at my six year old daughter. “And when Silas took you to see that big new house, did his eyes look scary when he told you to keep it a secret from me?” Lisa’s mouth opened and closed. Teri walked out of the bathroom, cutting her off. “Here we go again.” “I am asking my daughter.” “She is barely six years old, Nolan. Why are you forcing her to pick a side?” Tears instantly welled up in Lisa’s eyes. “Daddy, I do not want to pick sides.” I stayed kneeling on the floor. “Then just tell Daddy the truth. What else did Silas say to you?” She took a step backward, bumping right into Teri’s legs. Teri leaned down and wrapped her arms protectively around the girl. “He did not say anything. Stop interrogating a child. She does not remember.” The doorbell chimed. Teri let out a visible sigh of relief and practically sprinted to open it. Silas stood on the porch. He was dressed flawlessly in a crisp white button down. A sleek onyx bead bracelet was wrapped tightly around his left wrist. He held a brown paper bag from an upscale bakery. Poking out of the top was Lisa’s absolute favorite brand of strawberry milkshake. “Morning.” He said it so casually. Like he belonged here. Like he did this every single day. Lisa’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Silas!” She threw herself forward and wrapped her little arms around his waist. Silas smiled, resting a hand on her hair. “Did my little princess sleep well last night?” Lisa shook her head tragically. “No. Daddy was really mad.” Silas lifted his gaze and locked eyes with me. That perfectly practiced, serene smile never left his face. “Nolan. Children are incredibly sensitive to negative energy. As adults, it is our responsibility to process our emotional baggage maturely.” Teri stood right beside him. She said absolutely nothing to defend me. I asked him, “Did you come to my front door just to teach me how to be a father?” Silas acted like he was completely immune to my hostility. “I am simply looking out for Lisa’s well being. Teri texted me last night. She said she was genuinely frightened of your behavior.” I shifted my gaze to Teri. Her face tightened awkwardly. “I just said you were acting erratic.” Silas handed the breakfast bag down to Lisa. “Eat up, sweetie. I have a brand new pack of Disney princess stickers waiting for you in the car.” Lisa snatched the bag eagerly. “Thank you, Silas!” He chuckled warmly. “No need to thank me. Soon enough, we are all going to be family anyway.” I took a step forward. Teri immediately stepped directly into my path, using her body as a shield. “Nolan, stop. The child is right here.” Silas lowered his voice into a soothing, patronizing hum. “It is alright, Teri. I fully empathize with Nolan’s defensiveness. It stems from insecurity.” I stared at the onyx beads on his wrist. Every time he dropped another piece of pseudo intellectual garbage, his thumb would slowly rub against one of the stones. He looked like a judge handing down a sentence from a moral high ground. “Your empathy is remarkably cheap, Silas.” His smile lost a fraction of its warmth. “There is no need for the passive aggression, Nolan. If you truly loved your daughter, you would not view her as property. You would respect her autonomy to choose the environment where she feels most loved.” Lisa, chewing on her straw, mumbled quietly, “Daddy, stop being mean to Silas.” That single sentence cut deeper than every psychological buzzword Silas had thrown at me combined. I looked down at her. “Do you really want to ride in his car today?” Lisa hesitated for a split second. Teri immediately intervened. “Lisa, it is completely your choice.” She said the words, but her hand rested flat against Lisa’s back, giving her a gentle, unmistakable push forward. Lisa nodded. “Yes.” I stood up straight. “Fine.” Teri blinked, clearly caught off guard by how quickly I surrendered. Silas smiled in triumph. “It is a sign of personal growth that you know when to let go, Nolan.” I kept my eyes on him. “Drop her off at the front gates.” He raised an eyebrow. “Naturally.” Lisa slipped on her shoes and reached out to grab Silas’s hand. In the past, her tiny fingers always sought out my palm. When it was cold, she would demand I tuck our joined hands into my coat pocket. Today, she walked out the door without a second glance. Just before the elevator doors slid shut, she suddenly looked back. “Daddy, are you going to pick me up after school?” Teri turned to look at me too. I said, “Ask your mother.” The smile vanished from Lisa’s face. “But you always pick me up.” “Silas dropped you off today. You can ask Silas to pick you up too.” Silas’s expression faltered for a microsecond. He recovered instantly. “If my meetings wrap up early, I would love to.” Teri frowned at me. “Nolan, stop being petty.” I grabbed my car keys from the console table and dropped them right into the drawer. “I am not being petty. You two clearly have it all figured out. I would hate to intrude on your perfectly blended family.” The elevator doors closed. Lisa was still staring at me. Teri called me exactly thirty minutes later. I answered. Her voice was dark and heavy. “What exactly is your problem, Nolan?” “Did you not say I was emotionally erratic? Stepping back is what is best for the child.” “You know damn well Silas was only offering a ride this morning because it was on his way.” “What about you?” She paused. “Can you do the afternoon pickup?” “I have back to back consultations at the hospital this afternoon.” “Right. So all those other afternoons over the last three years, you did not have a job?” Dead silence on the line. Teri’s voice dropped. “You are a freelance designer. Your schedule is flexible. Mine is not.” I stared at the architectural blueprints scattered across my desk. Last night, until three in the morning, I was redrafting the structural plans for a client’s commercial space. In her mouth, the word ‘flexible’ was just a cheap excuse. A rag she used to plug whatever holes she created in our lives. “Figure it out yourselves today,” I said. Her tone turned hostile. “Are you seriously going to do this, Nolan?” “Yes.” “Lisa is going to be heartbroken.” “She looked ecstatic this morning.” Teri’s breathing hitched. “You are using our daughter to punish me.” I gripped the phone tightly. “Is that not the rule you both established this morning? The child chooses whoever makes her feel safe.” She had no response. Right before she hung up, I heard Silas’s voice bleeding through the background noise. “Teri, do not beg him. He is just weaponizing his title as a father to manipulate you.” Teri did not defend me. She did not disagree. I listened to the dial tone for a long moment before setting the phone face down on the blueprints. At noon, Lisa’s kindergarten teacher sent a photo to the parent group chat. Lisa was standing in front of the school gates, holding up a crayon drawing. It featured a massive house with a huge yard, a dog, and a beautiful princess bedroom. Standing in front of the house were three stick figures. Mommy. Lisa. Silas. Written in messy, uneven letters at the top: My New Home. I stared at that photograph until my eyes burned. A private message from the teacher popped up. [Hi Lisa’s Dad! Lisa wanted me to tell you she drew this for you today. Will you be picking her up this afternoon to see it?] I typed back: [Please contact Lisa’s mother for pickup today.] The moment I put the phone down, a text from Teri came through. [Are you really so stubborn that you refuse to even look at your own daughter’s artwork?] I replied: [I am not in that drawing.] She did not text back. At exactly 5:00 PM, my phone rang again. This time, it was Lisa. She was sobbing hysterically. “Daddy! Silas said he got stuck in a meeting, and Mommy is not here! The teacher is making me sit in the security office all by myself!” I squeezed my eyes shut. “Tell your teacher to call Mommy.” She cried harder. “Daddy, please come get me! Please!” My hand hovered over the drawer where I put my car keys. I slowly pulled it back. “Lisa. This morning, you and Mommy chose Silas to be the one who takes you to school.” “But he did not come back!” “Then you wait for Mommy.” She choked on her tears. “Do you not love me anymore?” I did not answer immediately. In the background, I could hear the security guard trying to comfort her. After a long time, I spoke. “I love you very much, Lisa. But I am not the spare tire you keep in the trunk for when your real plans fall apart.” The crying stopped for a split second. Then Teri snatched the phone. Her voice was trembling with absolute rage. “You are a monster, Nolan.” 3 “You are going to apologize to her right now.” Teri walked through the front door at 9:00 PM. Those were the very first words out of her mouth. Lisa was practically glued to her shoulder, her eyes swollen red from hours of crying. I was sitting at the dining table. Resting perfectly flat in front of me was a printed copy of the drawing the teacher had sent. Teri saw it. Her expression faltered. “Why did you print out a child’s drawing?” “To keep a record.” She set Lisa down on the couch, her voice rising in pitch. “A record of what? A six year old’s crayon doodle? Are you really going to build a conspiracy out of a piece of paper?” Lisa whimpered softly. “Daddy, the teacher just told us to draw our future home.” I looked right at her. “And in your future home, where exactly am I?” She lowered her head, avoiding my eyes. Teri immediately stepped between us, shielding the girl. “You already completely shattered her heart today by abandoning her at school. Is that not enough for you?” I asked, “Why did Silas not pick her up?” Teri’s face darkened. “He had an emergency meeting.” “He stood right in my house this morning and promised he would be there.” “Nolan, you are being ridiculous. The man runs a business. Things change at the last minute.” “Did I not have a business to run?” She frowned deeply. “Why are you so obsessed with comparing yourself to him?” I laughed. A cold, bitter sound. “Me? You are the ones who turned this into a competition. Competing over who provides better emotional value. Competing over who can buy a princess room. Competing over who makes a better father.” Teri’s remaining patience snapped. “Nolan, we have been married for seven years. Is this truly how low your opinion of me is?” I stared at her. “How low is your opinion of me?” She froze. Lisa suddenly spoke up from the couch. “Silas says Daddy has a persecution complex.” The air in the room evaporated. I slowly turned my head to look at my daughter. Realizing she had crossed a massive line, Lisa shrank back into the cushions. Teri bit the inside of her cheek. “He was just joking.” “What else did he say?” Lisa was too terrified to speak. Teri answered for her. “He said you have been under an immense amount of pressure lately. He suggested you look into professional therapy.” [Billing Point] I pushed the printed drawing across the table toward Teri. “Let me get this straight. He takes my wife on private real estate tours, coaches my daughter to call him Dad, and now he is officially diagnosing my mental health?” Teri kept her voice low. “Nolan, Silas is a behavioral specialist. He knows what he is talking about.” “So his professional expertise involves auditioning to be a stepfather while the husband is still in the house?” She slammed her hand against the table. “Can you stop being so incredibly toxic for one second?” The loud noise terrified Lisa. She burst into tears again. “Mommy, I do not want to be here anymore! I want to go to the new house!” That sentence paralyzed Teri. I looked at Lisa. “How many times have you been there?” She sobbed louder. “Three times.” “Did you scan your fingerprint into the lock?” “Yes.” “Are there dresses waiting in the closet?” “Yes.” Teri squeezed her eyes shut. I kept going. “Are there glowing stars on the ceiling?” Lisa nodded frantically. “Silas told me if I sleep in that room, I will never have bad dreams again.” I stood up and grabbed my coat from the back of the chair. Teri immediately blocked my path. “Where are you going?” “To the new house.” “You are not going anywhere.” “Give me the address.” “Nolan, I am warning you.” “The address.” She suddenly let out a shaky laugh, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “The way you are acting right now… you are genuinely terrifying me.” I just looked at her. She pulled out her phone and tapped the screen a few times. A few seconds later, my phone rang. It was Silas. When I answered, his voice was even more composed and clinical than last night. “Nolan. Teri is in an incredibly fragile emotional state right now. I highly advise against stimulating her further.” “Give me the address.” “What address?” “The house you built for my wife and daughter.” He let out a long, heavy sigh, like a disappointed parent. “Look at yourself, Nolan. This is textbook controlling behavior. That property is a personal asset of mine. Teri simply brought the child over for a playdate.” “The keychain literally says Val & Lisa’s Haven.” “I bought a personalized gift for a friend. Is that a crime?” Teri stood a few feet away, listening in complete silence. Silas continued. “Nolan, I am giving you professional advice. Calm down. If you continue to harass and intimidate Teri, I will have no choice but to advise her to file a restraining order.” I listened to his smooth, practiced voice. I could practically hear the soft click of those onyx beads rolling against each other through the speaker. He was not just trying to steal my family. He was methodically setting the stage to have me thrown out of my own home like an abusive lunatic. “Silas,” I said slowly. “Have you already picked out a lawyer for her too?” Teri flinched. The phone line went dead silent for a full second. Then, Silas chuckled. “Part of being a mature adult, Nolan, is anticipating risk and mitigating it.” I looked right at Teri. “Are you planning to divorce me?” Her lips parted, trembling slightly. “I was just looking at my options.” “Options that leave me with absolutely nothing?” “Who said anything about taking everything?” I reached over to the couch and picked up the manila folder she had dropped when she walked in. All the blood drained from her face. She lunged forward to rip it out of my hands. Papers scattered across the floor. The top page read: Strategy for the Isolation of Marital Assets. Halfway down the page, a specific paragraph was highlighted in bright yellow ink. If it can be demonstrated that the husband exhibits emotional instability or tendencies toward domestic violence, the client can petition for exclusive rights to the primary residence and full custody of the minor child. I stared at that highlighted sentence. Lisa’s crying stopped abruptly. Teri was on her knees, frantically scrambling to gather the papers. “This is just some boilerplate garbage a friend of Silas sent over. It means nothing.” I asked, “Tendencies toward domestic violence?” She refused to look up. “You threw my keys across the room last night.” “They fell out of the bag.” “You terrified Lisa.” “And what? You were planning to put a six year old on the stand to testify against me?” Lisa’s face went completely white. “Mommy, I do not want to go to a courtroom.” Teri instantly dropped the papers and wrapped her arms around the girl. “No, baby. Mommy would never make you do that.” But when she said it, she could not meet my eyes. The phone call was still active. Silas’s voice drifted through the speaker, calm and unbothered. “Nolan, let’s not make this ugly. If you truly care about the child, you will step aside gracefully. You can walk away with your dignity, maybe keep a piece of the assets, and retain visitation rights. Fight this, and you lose all three.” I picked up the phone. “You really have my entire execution mapped out, do you not?” Silas laughed softly. “I am not mapping anything out. I am simply reading the reality of your current psychological state. This is the best outcome you can hope for.” Teri looked up at me, her eyes red and pleading. “Nolan, just sign a temporary separation agreement. Pack a bag, move out for a few weeks, and let everyone cool down.” I looked down at the legal documents clutched in her hand. In that exact moment, the horrifying truth clicked into place. The princess bedroom was not the worst part. The worst part was that they had already rehearsed my total destruction behind my back. “Where is the agreement?” I asked. Teri let out a massive breath, her shoulders sagging in relief. She spoke softly. “Silas is bringing his attorney over tomorrow morning.” I nodded slowly. “Fine.” She blinked, stunned. “You agree?” I knelt down, picked up the scattered papers one by one, and set them neatly on the coffee table. “Tell him to bring the paperwork tomorrow.” Over the phone, Silas sounded incredibly smug. “Knowing when you are beaten is a highly valuable life skill, Nolan.” 4 “Daddy, can you please move out for a few days?” The next morning, Lisa sat at the dining table, clutching a glass of milk, her tiny voice filled with a practiced earnestness. Teri was in the kitchen, toasting bagels. Her hands paused for a second, but she did not turn around. She did not stop the child. I looked at Lisa. “Who told you to say that?” She looked down, chewing on her plastic straw. “Mommy said Daddy needs a time out to calm down.” Teri walked out of the kitchen, setting a plate on the table. “I did not put words in her mouth. She can feel the toxic energy you are bringing into this house.” I looked at the bagels on the plate. The edges were burnt to a crisp. For the last six years, I made breakfast every single morning. Lisa refused to eat anything with burnt edges, and Teri hated cold milk. Today, neither of them touched their food. Teri slid a thick folder across the table toward me. “This is the temporary separation agreement.” I flipped open the cover. Page one explicitly stated that I was voluntarily vacating the marital home and temporarily surrendering primary physical custody of the child. Page two contained a clause where I formally acknowledged that my recent “emotional instability” had caused undue psychological distress to my family. Page three was a blanket authorization handing over control of our joint finances. I looked up. “You call this a separation agreement?” Teri pressed her lips together. “It is just a transitional document.” The doorbell rang. Lisa instantly abandoned her chair, her face lighting up. “Silas is here!” She sprinted to the door and yanked it open. Silas stood on the porch alongside a sharp looking man in a tailored suit. Silas was holding a massive, beautifully wrapped pink gift box. Lisa grabbed it instantly, completely forgetting that just two minutes ago, she was asking her father to pack his bags and leave. “Is it another dress?” Silas smiled that infuriatingly perfect smile and patted her head. “My little princess needs to be brave today, okay?” I stared at him. “Brave about what exactly?” Silas stepped into my house. He smelled faintly of expensive cedar cologne. The onyx beads were still wrapped securely around his wrist. The man in the suit set a sleek leather briefcase on the dining table. “Mr. Lu, my name is Brooks. I am acting as legal counsel for your wife.” I looked at Teri. “You brought a shark into my dining room.” She looked away, her voice dropping. “I just want this to be peaceful.” Brooks adjusted his wire rimmed glasses. “Nolan, we highly advise you to sign the temporary agreement. Teri is generously offering to maintain your visitation rights. This is the most dignified exit available to you.” “And if I refuse?” Silas pulled out a chair and sat down at my table, completely at home. “You are free to refuse. But remember, Lisa was sobbing in the security office yesterday. Both the teachers and the guards can testify that you explicitly refused to pick up your own child. Combine that with your aggressive behavior in the home, and how do you think a family court judge is going to view you?” Lisa stood in the corner clutching her pink box. She did not know what a family court judge was, but she recognized the threat in the air. “Daddy, Silas said if you sign the paper, the fighting stops.” I looked at my little girl. “Do you want me to sign it?” She hesitated. Teri quickly interjected. “Lisa, Daddy is just going to stay in a hotel for a little while.” Silas leaned back in his chair, adding the final nail to the coffin.

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The day Fred and I walked out of the courthouse with our finalized divorce papers in hand, his billionaire father finally tracked him down. His old man was sitting on a multi-billion dollar empire. We are talking about a sprawling three-story estate and a subterranean garage packed to the brim with luxury cars. Fred was his one and only heir. Suddenly, his future was blindingly bright, and I had just been officially reduced to the role of the ex-wife. Damn it. What kind of joke was this? I had dragged myself through the mud and starved right alongside him for ten long years! 1 I never in a million years imagined I was only one signature away from becoming a billionaire’s wife. The regret was eating me alive. I was furious! How could fate be so endlessly cruel to me? What did I do to deserve this? Fred and I had been together since we were eighteen. He was dead broke for a solid decade. Even the ring he proposed to me with was fashioned out of a pull-tab from a soda can! When things were at their absolute worst, we were crammed into a tiny, two-hundred-square-foot studio apartment, surviving on ten dollars a day and washing down stale bread with tap water. But look at him now. Fred had hit the ultimate jackpot, and we were legally strangers. If my best friend Brooke had not come running over to congratulate me on becoming a filthy rich socialite, I would have never known. I still had Fred’s social media blocked. That very afternoon, barely a month after our divorce, this bombshell news blew my entire reality to pieces. It was also that same afternoon when Fred rolled up in a sleek black Maybach just to rub it in my face. He stepped out of the luxury ride looking like a magazine cover, decked out in a tailored suit and tie. Dark aviators covered half his face, leaving only his sharp jawline and tightly pressed lips visible. He looked ridiculously, devastatingly handsome. I will admit it right now. A huge reason I agreed to marry him back then was simply because he was gorgeous. A one-in-a-million kind of gorgeous. Just picture it. A fresh-faced, fiercely passionate eighteen-year-old boy handing his entire heart over to you. How could anyone resist that? Not to mention, given his legendary high school track record of taking down every tough guy across five neighboring districts without losing a single fight, his stamina was absolutely incredible. Look, I am only human. The attraction was intoxicating. You would have fallen for it too. But who could have guessed that ten years of grinding poverty would shatter that rose-tinted filter into dust. And yet, here he was again, tall and commanding and gorgeous, because money had just given him the ultimate glow-up. As he handed me a manila folder, the heavy luxury watch on his wrist caught the afternoon sun. The diamonds were so blindingly bright they almost seared my retinas. So my question is, under these specific circumstances, can I take him back to family court and petition for a brand new division of assets? Asking for a friend. It is urgent. 2 “Allie, I came over today because I want to renegotiate custody of Toby.” I stared at him blankly. The folder in my hands suddenly felt like it was on fire. I practically threw it back at his chest. “In your dreams!” Internally, I was panicking. If Fred really wanted to fight me for custody now, I would lose without a shadow of a doubt. I just wanted a little bit of his newfound cash, but this guy was coming for my actual life! “In my dreams?” Fred let out a dry, mocking chuckle. “With my current resources, Allie, I assure you it is very much a reality.” My heart did a terrifying stutter. “Don’t you dare! Fred, Toby is only three years old. He needs his mother.” “He needs his father too.” Fred took a step forward. His presence was completely overwhelming. I instinctively shrank back. “And as his actual flesh and blood, I will obviously treat him better than whatever new stepdad you try to bring into the picture.” I rubbed my nose awkwardly, forcing the most pathetic smile I could muster. “If you are worried about my dating life, I will break up with him. I will break up with him right now! Tomorrow! It is done!” Fred clearly had not expected me to offer up a breakup so easily. He froze, completely thrown off guard. I immediately took advantage of the silence, keeping that sickeningly sweet smile plastered on my face. “I heard your biological parents found you. Congratulations.” Fred let out a soft scoff through his nose. It was the absolute truth. His sudden transformation into a trust-fund heir felt like a wild hallucination. He reached up and pulled off his sunglasses. Those deep, expressive eyes stared down at me for a long moment before he let out a contemptuous laugh. “What, are you regretting it now?” “Regretting it so much I could die.” I nodded, laughing softly. “So Fred, how about we go down to City Hall and get remarriage papers?” “Keep dreaming.” His face instantly went ice-cold. He turned his back on me, walking straight into the apartment to scoop a sleepy Toby right out of his bed. He announced he was taking Toby out for the day. Obviously, I was not going to let that happen. If the man had motives to steal my custody, I was not letting my kid out of my sight for a single second. Thankfully, Toby was on my side. He rubbed his little eyes and instantly burst into tears the second he saw me. “Mommy! I want Mommy!” Toby always seemed to naturally clash with his dad. Ever since he was born, Fred found the little guy mildly annoying. He complained Toby took up too much space in bed and made too much a fuss at dinner. It was almost as if Fred was just a slightly older kid, constantly throwing a jealous fit because his exclusive attention had been stolen away. So Toby thrashed in his arms, reaching out to me with big, watery eyes full of tears. Left with no other option, Fred let out a defeated sigh and shoved the boy into my arms. Sitting in the backseat of Fred’s luxury car, Toby looked up at the roof with massive confusion in his tiny eyes. “Mommy, the car lost its hair.” He pulled a chubby little finger out of his mouth to point. Fred scoffed from the driver’s seat. He pressed a button, and the convertible roof smoothly slid into place. “Whoa!” Toby scrambled up from my lap, his eyes sparkling like stars. “Daddy, Daddy!” Fred finally cracked a smile. “At least you remember how to call me Daddy. Good to know someone in this car has a conscience.” He let the words hang in the air for a second before adding quietly, “Unlike some people.” My smile faltered. I knew Fred just needed to take a few jabs at me to feel better, so I let it slide. It did not matter. His words barely had any real sting to them anyway. Honestly, I knew exactly what today was about. Fred just wanted to make me uncomfortable and flash his wealth in my face out of pure spite. Whatever Toby pointed at, Fred bought without blinking. Snacks, toys, anything the kid desired. He even rented out an entire floor of a high-end steakhouse right in the middle of the day. Look at me, Allie. I am filthy rich now. Every single movement he made screamed that exact sentence. It was incredibly annoying. That money was not mine, and it was stressing me out. I propped my chin on my hand, frantically trying to brainstorm a game plan. Right in the middle of my scheming, a terrible sense of dread washed over me. My chest tightened for absolutely no reason. And then I looked up and saw my supposed rich boyfriend standing in the restaurant lobby, screaming his head off at the manager while his current girlfriend stood right beside him. In that exact moment, Fred stiffened up like a cornered beast. 3 The ex-husband meets the current fake boyfriend. If this was not a catastrophic disaster, I do not know what is. I ducked my head, desperately trying to shrink into the upholstery, but Fred was already moving. He lunged forward and threw a brutal punch, catching the rich kid square in the jaw. The guy stumbled back, barely missing the wall. “Are you insane!” The rich kid, Cole, was completely stunned by the ambush. His body reacted faster than his brain, and he immediately swung a heavy kick right back at Fred. In seconds, the two of them were locked in a vicious brawl. Cole’s girlfriend was standing off to the side, having an absolute meltdown. “Stop fighting! We are leaving! We do not even want to eat here!” The saddest part was that neither of the guys fighting even fully understood why they were getting hit. I let out a heavy sigh of pure exhaustion and threw myself between them, looking like a martyr. “Stop it!” My kid was sitting right there. This was terrible parenting! Fred held a hand to his bruising jaw and screamed at me, completely betrayed. “You are two-timing him, and you are still trying to protect him?” Cole’s girlfriend caught onto that immediately. “What do you mean, two-timing?” Oh God. Before I could even attempt damage control, Cole completely lost his mind. “Who the hell is two-timing who? Who the hell are you?” He snapped his head toward me, his face red with fury. “And who the hell are you?” The amount of cursing coming out of his mouth was spectacular. I swore the guy was a walking bleep machine. But wait a minute. He definitely was not this clueless the last time we met. He had a garbage temper, sure, but he at least knew how to play along. Why was his brain completely short-circuiting today? “Cole, what are you doing here?” I asked loudly, hoping the hint would land. But Fred was standing right there, glaring at us with laser focus. I could not even risk making a facial expression. I knew my face probably looked like absolute death. Thankfully, Cole was not entirely stupid. He swallowed whatever string of insults he was about to spit out next. It was like a lightbulb finally clicked in his head. In that moment, he just stood there with his mouth hanging open like a fish gasping for air. Silence. Dead, agonizing silence. The awkwardness was so thick I wanted to dig a hole through the marble floor and bury myself. But surprisingly, a tiny sliver of petty joy bubbled up in my chest. Was I the only one suffering in this nightmare scenario? No. Cole was drowning right beside me. Thinking about that made me feel significantly better. “Cole, you better explain this right now. What does he mean, two-timing? Who is she?” Now it was the girlfriend’s turn to explode. “Do not forget all the pretty words you said when you were begging me to date you!” Cole was sweating bullets. “Sienna, let’s talk about this at home. Just wait until we get home!” “Why should we wait? You explain it right here, right now! Who is she?” She thrust a manicured finger so close to my face it almost poked my nose. Off to the side, Fred crossed his arms and watched the chaos unfold with a freezing, cynical sneer. Did you think Fred was the only one enjoying this? Absolutely not. I was having a fantastic time. Turns out karma comes fast for jerks like Cole. But I knew one thing for sure. He would never dare explain the real situation in front of Fred, no matter how bad this blowup got. If the vibe was not so dangerous, I would have crossed my arms and smirked just like Fred. But I could not. I had to drop my gaze, pivot on my heel, and play the victim to get both of us out of this mess. “I should go.” As I lowered my head, I forced my eyes and brows into an expression of profound sorrow and quiet heartbreak. Self-deprecating and painfully lonely. Fred was staring right at me. I knew he saw it. I did not say a single word until I was entirely out of the restaurant. Holding that in was exhausting! “So, Allie. Is this the incredibly wealthy, deeply devoted man you traded me for?” Apparently, holding it in was exhausting for Fred, too. He walked up holding Toby, flashing a massive, brilliant smile. “Serves you right.” He was enjoying my misery way too much. Half of his face was swollen from where Cole had clocked him, but his eyes were curved into bright, gleaming crescents. It was like the sun breaking through heavy clouds. Stunning. 4 I have to hand it to Fred. The man knows how to look good. You do not punch a guy in the face! Cole really was a piece of trash. I let out a long sigh and threw my hands up. “Men. Always chasing the next shiny thing. The novelty wears off eventually.” Fred jumped like he had been burned. “Stop making stuff up. I am not like that, and you know it.” That shut me up instantly. Alright then. I reached over and took Toby back into my arms. The little guy was already whining from hunger. “I want meat!” Fred leaned in, his smile returning. “Daddy is going to take you to get fried chicken!” He walked around with a bruised face, completely unbothered by the weird stares we were getting from the people on the street. He did not look like a guy who just got beat up. He looked like a guy wearing a badge of honor. I had no idea what he was so proud of. He spent the entire day showering Toby with two things he never had before: unlimited free time and unlimited cash. By the time we headed back, Toby was so exhausted he was dead asleep against my shoulder. Toby was usually a very easy kid. Back when Fred was killing himself trying to get his startup off the ground, he worked late into the night. I raised Toby practically on my own. But I never realized that having a quiet, ridiculously cute kid would actually make me a hot commodity on the dating market. At least, that is what the overly enthusiastic neighbor lady told me. She explicitly said she was only offering to set me up with her highly successful nephew because Toby was such a well-behaved boy. Of course, she made sure to remind me multiple times that being a divorced single mom was a huge disadvantage, whereas her nephew owned three fully paid-off properties in the city and drove a Mercedes. Just for context, the apartment building we lived in was practically crumbling. Anyone with real money would never step foot in this neighborhood. I politely declined every time she brought it up. Eventually, her patience wore thin, and she hit me with a brutal parting shot. “You really think you are such a catch, huh?” I just gave her a tired smile and mentally cursed Fred ten thousand times. When you fall in love with someone truly breathtaking in your youth, it ruins you. Because for the rest of your life, no matter who you meet, your brain will unconsciously compare them to him. 5 The year Fred and I got married, I sneaked my birth documents out of my parents’ house. He grew up in the foster system. My parents thought he had no family, no backing, and no future. But I was incredibly stubborn. I firmly believed that without the nightmare of dealing with awful in-laws, Fred and I would never have any real problems. By the time my parents realized what happened, the ink was dry. They were so furious they refused to attend our little wedding. I brushed it off. I was convinced that with enough time, they would eventually see how amazing he was. After we got married, Fred treated me like gold. He was desperate to make something of himself so he could give me the life I deserved, so he threw himself into starting his own company. Building a business from scratch is pure torture. But he never complained once. The only thing that changed was that his time with me shrank, and his overtime hours stretched deep into the night. I did not mind. That is just how life works. If a man gives his woman happiness, she will gladly stand behind him and hold down the fort. And that is exactly what I did. Except our bank accounts were always empty. His company bled money constantly, and since I was a full-time stay-at-home mom, my own savings vanished entirely. So honestly, what good is love? Money is the only thing that actually matters. With money, you can do whatever you want and buy whatever you want. Just look at Fred now. He has money, which means he gets to have his success. So who cares about pride? I was lying on my bed, debating whether I should swallow my pride and text him goodnight. The moment I picked up my phone, I saw a missed video call notification sitting on the screen. Toby was sprawling on the mattress, kicking his little feet in the air and blowing bubbles with his saliva, looking incredibly pleased with himself. “Did you call your dad on video?” “Yep.” Toby giggled and threw himself at me for a hug. I was amazed he figured out how to use the buttons. I leaned in, super curious. “What did you and Daddy talk about?” “Mommy is finding Toby a new daddy.” Toby dropped the bomb effortlessly. I froze. “What?” “Finding a new daddy.” I was speechless. Are you kidding me? Out of everything I told that nosy neighbor lady to reject her nephew, the only words this kid retained were “new daddy”? And he spent five minutes repeating that to Fred? 6 Fine. Toby was officially a little traitor. I had to do damage control immediately. What if Fred completely misunderstood? I frantically typed out a message, only to see the bright red exclamation point pop up. He had blocked my number. Great. Absolutely useless. Now I had to wait a whole week until Fred came to pick up Toby again. I was sitting at home, restless and waiting, when someone finally showed up at my door. Except it was not Fred. It was the fake boyfriend. Cole looked absolutely furious. He literally kicked my front door. “Allie!” I jumped off the couch in a panic. “What?” “You are going to come with me and explain this mess!” Cole’s brows were knotted together, his face a picture of pure frustration. It clicked immediately. He wanted me to go do damage control with his girlfriend. “I can explain it, sure.” I crossed my arms and sat back down on the couch, finally holding the upper hand. “Fifty grand. I will make everything crystal clear for her.” Cole looked like he had just swallowed a bug. “My sister already gave you three hundred grand, and that wasn’t enough? Are you absolutely obsessed with money?” “That was a completely separate transaction.” “How is it separate?” Cole scoffed. “Does my sister know you are still secretly going on dates with Fred?” “Get lost.” My patience was gone. “If you are not paying, get out.” Cole scowled. “I have never met a woman as incredibly greedy as you!” I just shrugged. He kept swearing under his breath, thoroughly agitated. “Fine, fine, I will pay! Just hurry up and come with me!” Honestly, clearing the air was not that hard. A fake relationship is a fake relationship, and a misunderstanding is just a misunderstanding. But Sienna was not just any girl. Cole had spent months putting her on a pedestal and worshiping the ground she walked on. She was way out of his league, and she knew it. The second any real drama or red flags popped up, a girl like her cuts her losses and walks away without looking back. She had a line of guys waiting for her anyway. So I spent twenty minutes talking until my throat went dry, only to secure front-row seats to their official breakup. Cole’s face was beet red. He begged, pleaded, and apologized, but it was completely useless. I almost felt bad for the guy. He was young, rich, and handsome, yet he was playing the pathetic puppy dog. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. I clutched my purse tightly, ready to slip out while they were distracted. Thankfully, I made him wire the money before we even left my apartment. That cash was securely in my account, and there were zero refunds. The two of them were engaged in a screaming match, so neither of them noticed me inching away. I had just taken a step toward the exit when a hand suddenly clamped down hard on my arm. The veins on Cole’s forehead were bulging. He yelled at the top of his lungs, “Fine, Sienna! You think you are so great? We are done!” He yanked me forcefully to his side, his fingers wrapping tightly around my hand. “You were completely right! I have been messing around with her this whole time! Who do you think you are? You think I was going to stay loyal to you?” I was paralyzed. What the hell was happening? Why was he dragging me down with his sinking ship? I stomped hard on his foot, kicked him away, and bolted. Whatever. I already got my money. Taking part in his theatrical revenge plot would require an entirely different hourly rate. I practically sprinted out of the restaurant, feeling fantastic. Making fifty grand in one afternoon was better than robbing a bank! Cole was such an easy target. That is what he gets for having a sister like his. Serves him right! Tonight, I was going to buy Toby the expensive shrimp he loved, and maybe even a whole box of those fancy cheese sticks. “Allie!” The second I stepped onto the pavement, someone called my name. The voice was painfully familiar. I froze in my tracks. My neck felt like rusted metal as I slowly turned my head. Unsurprisingly, Fred was standing right there. He was leaning against his car, smoking a cigarette. The afternoon sun was blinding, making his sharp face look pale and exhausted. “What are you doing here?” I frowned, my eyes fixating on the cigarette in his hand. I hated it. “What? Am I interrupting your date?” Fred’s lips curled up slightly. “Crazy coincidence. I happened to be eating here too.” The corners of his eyes were slightly red, probably irritated by the smoke. He took the cigarette from his lips, dropped it onto the concrete, and crushed it out violently beneath his shoe. The look he gave me was pure venom. “How dare you leave Toby home alone?” “I didn’t.” I stared at him, exhausted. “I dropped him off at Brooke’s place.” “He was getting in the way, right? You were just so desperate to go out and secure your next husband.” Fred took a step forward. I took a step back. His face was terrifying. His eyes were even worse. I swallowed hard, too afraid to fire back. He was never this volatile in the past. Even when his company was failing and people were humiliating him left and right, he always kept his temper perfectly in check. “Fred, I am not on a date,” I explained softly. He turned his head away. “I do not care if you are on a date. It has absolutely nothing to do with me.” His words hit me like a physical blow. When it comes to tearing someone apart, the people who know you best know exactly where to slip the knife. “Allie, I am taking Toby. That is a promise.” He spun around, yanked his car door open, and slammed it shut with terrifying force. The sound echoed like a gunshot straight through my chest. The thrill of getting the cash vanished instantly. I had no idea why I was suddenly so upset. I was the one who dumped him first. He was right—I had nothing to do with him anymore. Why was I feeling so heartbroken? I was being pathetic. I deserved this. But seeing Fred look so deeply hurt while saying such incredibly vicious things completely broke me.

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I bought a mini-fridge out of the goodness of my heart to help a student store her medication. Two weeks later, the medicine spoiled. She collapsed in the classroom, leaving her permanently disabled. Her parents protested at the school gates, weeping and hoisting banners that read, “Heartless teacher ruined our daughter!” I took care of her for ten agonizing years, but it was never enough. They demanded I marry her and support her for the rest of her life. I had a girlfriend whom I was forced to leave behind. On the way to her wedding, I suffered a sudden heart attack. When I opened my eyes again, I was back ten years in the past. Amy stood right in front of me, looking fragile and helpless. “Mr. Mercer, my medicine needs to be refrigerated, but there isn’t a fridge in the classroom…” I looked at her and said, “That sounds like a question for Facilities.” 1 I was reborn. I woke up at the exact moment Amy first claimed she needed a refrigerator for her medication. Behind her stood her three roommates, all of them my students. Four pairs of eyes stared up at me, wide and pleading. I was twenty-four, fresh out of a top-tier master’s program in philosophy. Hoping to eventually secure a tenure-track position, I had taken a temporary assistant job at this private university to build up my resume, all thanks to my mentor’s recommendation. In my past life, I was fueled by nothing but naive idealism. Hearing a student in need, I ran myself ragged trying to help. But when the administration told me to just submit a formal request and wait, I couldn’t bear to let her suffer. I paid out of my own pocket for a small fridge to speed things up. Two weeks later, she collapsed during a break. Only at the hospital did the truth come out. She didn’t have diabetes, and she wasn’t refrigerating insulin. She suffered from osteogenesis imperfecta, commonly known as brittle bone disease. It was incurable, requiring lifelong medication. An investigation revealed her medication had degraded because the fridge’s plug had slipped from the outlet, cutting off the cooling. Her parents demanded answers from the school, but the administration washed their hands of the matter, claiming the appliance wasn’t university property. They threw me under the bus. The public backlash was suffocating. My family was relentlessly doxxed and harassed online. Broken and desperate, I surrendered and took on the burden of caring for her. I carried that cross for ten years. But her family’s greed was bottomless. They demanded I marry her and support her parents too. I had a girlfriend whom I loved with all my heart. She waited for me for a decade. Realizing I would never escape this nightmare, I forced myself to be cruel, pushing her away so she could find a real life. She went back home to settle down. The night before her wedding, Amy had a flare-up, and I stayed up all night taking care of her. The next morning, as I drove toward the wedding venue just to catch a glimpse of her in her dress, my chest seized. A massive heart attack. My emergency medication was sitting right in the cup holder, but I didn’t reach for it. I didn’t call 911 either. Instead, a strange, profound peace washed over me. My only regret was for my girl. Today was supposed to be her happiest day, and here I was, ruining it one last time. 2 Now, I was back. Looking at these four hopeful faces, my chest burned with nothing but cold hatred and disgust. “Is the applicant Amy?” I asked, my voice flat. “If you require a refrigerator, you need to download the medical accommodation form online. Detail your condition, the storage requirements of the medication, fill it out, and submit it to Facilities. They will forward it to administration for procurement.” Her roommate, Maddie, a loud and self-righteous girl, frowned. “That sounds incredibly tedious. Won’t that take forever? Amy has diabetes. She needs insulin shots before every meal, right, Amy?” Exactly. Amy had never actually stated what her illness was. The diabetes rumor started because people saw her giving herself injections, and she simply let the rumor run wild without ever correcting anyone. Just like how she had never explicitly asked me to buy the fridge. In my past life, her roommates and I had made that decision for her. In my previous life, when her parents protested at the gates and made the evening news, the internet came for my throat. My parents, both respected high school teachers on the verge of a proud retirement, were forced into early resignation because of the scandal. Stripped of their pensions and forced to support me, they hid their own failing health from me to spare me the worry. Within a few years, they both passed away. I knew that even in death, my name would remain dragged through the mud. And the heroes of that story would be the four young ladies standing before me. Amy was the delicate princess, and the other three were her loyal handmaidens, eager to charge into battle on her behalf. In my past life, they were the ones who posted online, fabricated testimonies, and painted me as a creepy predator who bought the fridge to hit on his student. This time, I was going to sit back and watch who got burned. “The bureaucracy is what it is,” I said, gathering my lecture materials. “If you have any questions, take it up with your academic advisor.” I turned and walked away, feeling lighter than I had in a decade. I hadn’t even cleared the hallway before Amy’s whimpering voice drifted after me. “What’s wrong with Mr. Mercer today? He was so cold.” Maddie scoffed, comforting her. “Just dodging responsibilities. He’s just a green intern who can’t make a real decision to save his life. Don’t worry, babe, I’ll handle this.” 3 I was just a teaching assistant, barely two months into my internship. Aside from teaching, I was burdened with every scrap of administrative grunt work, and I didn’t even have my own desk. Back in my dorm, I pulled up the resignation portal, but my finger hovered over the submit button. First, my mentor had gone out of his way to secure this position for me to build my resume, and I hated to throw his kindness back in his face. Second, in my past life, I had tried to resign, but the university HR rejected the immediate release. By contract, even if I quit, I had to give a thirty-day notice. A month was more than enough time for everything to go to hell. If I couldn’t quit gracefully, I would have to get myself fired. Right then, my phone buzzed with a message in the family group chat. My uncle wrote: “Your grandmother hasn’t been feeling well. Her blood pressure spiked to 200 today, and the doctor is admitting her.” I had chosen this college because it was barely sixty miles from my hometown. I was about to reply that I would drive back tonight, but my cousin Mike, who worked as a doctor in the city, messaged back: “I’m heading home in a bit. Silas, someone gifted me two crates of fresh lychees. I’ll drop them off at your campus on my way out.” An idea sparked in my mind. I hurried back to my room, threw off my cheap teaching clothes, and changed into a high-end designer outfit that accentuated my height and sharp jawline. I looked ten times sharper than usual. My roommate, noticing the upgrade, raised an eyebrow. “Who’s the hot date? Is your girl coming to town?” I just smirked, offering no explanation. In my past life, when the walls closed in on me, not a single colleague spoke up for me, including this roommate. After all, we were both interns competing for the same permanent slot. I grabbed a designer leather bag worth thousands, the prominent luxury logo practically blinding him. His jaw dropped. “Silas, since when are you loaded?” Ignoring him, I swept out of the dorm and strode toward the campus gates like a peacock in full display, turning heads all along the way. 4 From a distance, I spotted Mike’s luxury SUV. I stood at an even six feet, but he was taller, wearing wire-rimmed glasses and exuding an effortless, scholarly charm. He was dressed in a similar style. In fact, most of my nice clothes were gifts from him, and the bag I held was one of his hand-me-downs. It was perfectly normal for an older, established cousin to help dress his younger, broke relative, right? Mike stepped out and popped the trunk to haul out the crates of lychees. Without warning, I threw myself onto his back, wrapping my arms around his shoulders just like we used to do when we were kids. He nearly stumbled into the trunk under my weight, but he caught himself, hooking his hands under my thighs to support me. “You absolute menace! You’re not ten years old anymore. You weigh a hundred and sixty pounds, you’re going to snap my spine!” He was a gym rat with solid muscle beneath his shirt, so I wasn’t worried. Instead of climbing down, I clung tighter. “Is Grandma going to be okay?” Mike sighed, adjusting his grip. “Don’t listen to my dad. Her blood pressure was fine when I checked her last week. He’s just using her as bait to drag me home for a blind date.” “Oh, I see.” Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed several students slowing down, whispering and pointing their phone cameras at us. I finally slid off his back, but immediately looped my arm snugly through his elbow. Mike handed me the crates, then reached over to ruffle my hair affectionately. “How’s the new gig? Colleagues treating you well? Are the kids behaving?” I flashed him a bright smile. “Everything is perfect. Don’t worry about me.” 5 After his car disappeared down the avenue, I stood there waving for a long moment before carrying the crates back to my room. The moment I walked in, my roommate met me with a bizarre, loaded look. “What?” I asked. He let out a strained, awkward chuckle. “Oh, wow. Lychees this early in the season? Those are my absolute favorite.” Usually, he would have helped himself without asking. But this time, I pointedly loaded them into my personal locker and clicked the padlock shut. “Sorry, these are special. None for you.” His expression shifted from awkward to outright disgusted. He grabbed a box of tissues he had previously borrowed and slid it back over to his side of the desk, clearly trying to draw a line between us. I opened the campus forum on my laptop. Sure enough, several threads had already popped up featuring “intimate” photos of Mike and me at the gate. I systematically saved every single screenshot. That afternoon, during roll call, the whispers followed me. Rumors that I was keeping a sugar daddy and showing off his wealth spread like wildfire. I didn’t offer a single word of defense, letting the gossip mutate. That was when I saw Amy and her entourage again. Maddie rolled her eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck. “Mr. Mercer, we went to Facilities during lunch. They said the university doesn’t buy individual appliances for students. We have to file a petition with administration. In the meantime, they suggested using the cafeteria freezer, but the kitchen staff told us it violates health codes and turned us away. Then we tried to buy a mini-fridge for the dorm, but the resident advisor threatened to write us up for a fire hazard!” I shrugged indifferently. “Well, looks like you’re out of options.” Amy looked up, her eyes wide and watery. “Mr. Mercer, could we keep a small one in your office? Or maybe your dorm room?” I shook my head. “I don’t have an office, and my dorm has the same strict utility policy.” Tears welled up in Amy’s eyes, trembling right on the edge of her eyelashes. Maddie, fiercely protective, patted her on the back. “Don’t cry, babe. I’ll buy one myself and put it in the student lounge. We’ll put a lock on it. It’ll be fine.” Yet Amy didn’t look comforted. Her gaze remained locked on me. Honestly, she was beautiful in a fragile, tragic way that naturally triggered people’s protective instincts. In my past life, I had gone out of my way to help her out of professional duty, never realizing it would feed a dark, twisted obsession. Maddie sneered, her voice dripping with venom. “Some educator you are. Dressing up like a runway model while ignoring a sick student in need. You don’t deserve this job. I’m filing a formal complaint against you today!” I rolled my eyes right back at her. “Oh, heavens, I’m absolutely trembling. Please, go right ahead. If you don’t file it by five, you’re a coward.” The four girls froze, utterly stunned. As an intern, I had always been desperate for a good evaluation, catering to every student whim. I was famous for being a pushover. This sudden hostility was completely out of character. Once they recovered from the shock, they aggressively whipped out their phones to draft emails to the dean. Instead of panic, I let out a dry laugh. “Look at you, acting like entitled toddlers. You think the universe revolves around you just because you’re pathetic? Do you ever look in a mirror?” Amy burst into tears. The other two roommates looked close to crying too, while Maddie stared at me like a raging bull. “You’re going to regret this,” she spat. I crossed my arms. “I’ll be right here. Give it your best shot.” Trembling with rage, Maddie jabbed a manicured nail in my direction. “Fine! Enjoy getting fired!” I believed her. These girls were failing students and terrible human beings, but when it came to character assassination and online harassment, they were absolute professionals. 6 By that evening, dozens of complaints flooded the dean’s inbox. The accusations were a wild, colorful mix: homosexuality, flaunting wealth, unprofessional conduct, and emotional abuse of students. The next morning, the department head called me into his office. He sat behind his mahogany desk, the campus forum pulled up on his monitor. On the screen was the photo of me clinging to Mike’s back, a bright smile on my face. He tapped the glass. “Silas, is this you?” “Yes.” “And who is this man?” “A friend.” The department head paused, adjusting his glasses. “Are you gay, Silas?” “That is personal, and it has no bearing on my job.” His expression hardened. “I asked you a direct question. I expect a proper answer.” “And I gave you one. It is irrelevant to my work.” The door clicked open, and the dean strolled in. My roommate trailed behind him like a loyal lapdog, casting a smug, victorious look my way. If I got booted, he would secure the permanent position automatically. Sometimes, this world feels like a cheap theater production run by amateurs. In my past life, I let people like this ruin me. It was pathetic. Let them burn. The dean looked down his nose at me. “Silas, I will ask you one more time. Are you homosexual?” “No comment.” “Then explain these photos.” “I am under no obligation to do so.” He let out a cold, humorless chuckle. “Who do you think you are? You haven’t even finished your internship, and you’re carrying this attitude?” I scoffed. He glared at me. “One final time. Are you gay?” “Are you discriminating against sexual orientation?” “That’s enough,” the dean interrupted, waving his hand dismissively. “His roommate already told us everything we need to know. We can’t have someone like you corrupting our students.” He straightened his tie. “You’re fired.” He delivered the verdict as if he were a medieval king handing down an execution. Yet his eyes betrayed his pettiness, lingering greedily on the designer logo of my bag. I spun on my heel and walked out. Minutes later, an official termination email from HR popped up on my phone. According to my contract, a termination without cause entitled me to a month’s severance. But HR claimed I wasn’t getting a dime, not even my final paycheck. An intern’s monthly pay was barely a few hundred dollars, which normally wouldn’t be worth fighting over. But wage theft is a sin, and I fully intended to make them beg me to take it later. For the first time in ten years, I was completely free. Before leaving, I went to the student lounge. I ripped out the water dispenser, the surge protectors, and the water jugs I had purchased with my own money, smashing them and throwing them into the dumpster. “Mr. Mercer, you took the water cooler! What are we supposed to drink?” a student complained. I stomped hard on the plastic jug, cracking it in half. “I bought this with my own money, and you’ve been freeloading off me for months. If some lunatic decides to poison the water and blame me, I’d rather smash it now.” As I tossed the last piece into the bin, I turned around to find Amy standing a few yards away, biting her lip and staring at me with tear-filled eyes. Every hair on my body stood on end. She didn’t look like a fragile young girl; she looked like a venomous viper ready to strike. I took an involuntary step back. It wasn’t cowardice; it was the sheer trauma of my past life screaming in my ears. She stepped closer, her eyes glittering with an obsessive, unsettling intensity. It wasn’t the look of a student for her teacher, or even a woman for a man. It was a spider sizing up a fat fly caught in its web. “Mr. Mercer,” she whispered. My stomach turned, and I spun to run. “Don’t go!” she cried out. I stopped and slowly looked back. The hatred inside me burned so hot my bones ached. I wanted nothing more than to wrap my hands around her neck. But I couldn’t. I had fought too hard for this second chance, and a bright future lay ahead. She closed the distance, tears cascading down her pale face in the dim corridor light. “I’ll talk to Maddie. I’ll make her withdraw the complaint. Everything will go back to normal. Please, don’t leave. If you stay, I’ll do whatever you want.” Her voice was soft, but her words carried a heavy, desperate weight, as if she were offering a sacred vow. I remembered my past life. During my second year of caring for her, she had taken my hand in the dead of night, dragging it onto her blanket, whispering, “Mr. Mercer, marry me. I’ll be so good to you.” At the time, I thought it was just dependency, a drowning girl grasping at her only lifeline, or perhaps a mind warped by chronic pain. I never realized that she had been spinning this web from the very beginning, and I had walked right into it. “Amy,” I said, dropping any pretense of professionalism, “you absolutely disgust me.” She froze, tears still wet on her cheeks. Slowly, her innocent mask melted away into a chillingly confident grin. “Oh, Mr. Mercer,” she giggled softly. “You’ll be back. I know you will.” I smiled right back. “I’ll be back, alright. For your funeral.” Leaving her standing there, I went back to my room, packed my bags, and checked out. I didn’t waste a single second escaping the place that had been my living hell for half a lifetime.

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1 When I returned from studying abroad, my childhood sweetheart had already become a billionaire tycoon, passionately involved with my lookalike stand in. His mother came to me and said, “Ten million dollars. Get back with my son.” I politely declined. “Ma’am, you of all people should know. A proper lost love should remain like the dead, thoroughly buried.” “One hundred million. Do we have a deal?” “Absolutely, ma’am! Customer satisfaction guaranteed!” On the day I landed back in the country, my phone rang with a long lost number. Looking at the caller ID, which I had saved as “Sugar Mama,” I smiled and picked up. “Hello, Mrs. Montgomery.” Indeed, my ex boyfriend’s mother was my biggest investor. She was the angel sponsor who had funded my entire education abroad. “Sally, I will give you ten million dollars. Get back with my son.” “What are you talking about, Mrs. Montgomery? Oliver and I broke up three years ago. Besides, have you checked the market lately? Even inflation has driven up the price of basic goods.” “Thirty million. Just get rid of that little girlfriend of his.” “Ma’am, you of all people should know. A proper lost love should remain like the dead, thoroughly buried. How could I possibly interfere with their beautiful romance?” Knowing my true colors, she went silent for a few seconds before gritting her teeth. “One hundred million. Do we have a deal?” As expected of my primary investor, she was incredibly generous. I agreed instantly. “Absolutely, ma’am. Customer satisfaction guaranteed.” Having secured my promise, she hung up immediately, as if spending another second talking to me would shorten her lifespan. Two minutes later, my phone pinged with a bank alert. A deposit of thirty million dollars had cleared. What a wonderful loyal client, so efficient with the upfront retainer. I tapped on my account balance, beaming at the long string of zeros. It was absolutely beautiful. Meanwhile, the massive screen at the airport terminal was broadcasting the entertainment news: [Montgomery Group’s CEO Splashes Fifty Million on Luxury Mansion for Actress Giselle.] I looked up and caught sight of a very familiar face. Three years had passed, and Oliver had somehow grown even more handsome. The boyish softness had completely faded, replaced by the sharp, commanding aura of a mature man. His features were colder and more defined than before, and that rare, gentle warmth only flickered in his eyes when he looked at the woman beside him. Standing next to him was Giselle. Her striking, glamorous face bore at least a fifty percent resemblance to mine. I could not help but chuckle. So, Oliver, you resorted to the classic lookalike substitute trope too. 2 Three years ago, my parents died in a car crash. The family business collapsed, and I, barely an adult, was left an orphan, ruthlessly kicked out of my home by a pack of greedy relatives. In the pouring rain, Oliver had held me tight against his chest. “Sally, do not be afraid,” he had promised. “I will protect you.” I had clung to him, desperately soaking in his warmth. Back then, he was too young. He had nothing to his name, nothing but a raw, honest heart. And he had offered that heart to me on a silver platter. But a pure heart is often the most fragile currency. So, when his mother cornered me and slid a ten million dollar check across the table, demanding that I walk away, I barely hesitated before accepting. The day I left, Oliver called me countless times, begging over and over. “Sally, please do not go. I can take care of you, I swear! Please, do not leave me!” For a guy who had always played the protective older brother figure, his voice cracked with tears for the very first time. I comforted him gently, telling him to be a good boy, and then immediately blocked his number. 3 After sending my resume to the jewelry design firm under the Montgomery Group, I rented an apartment nearby. Then, I opened my laptop to catch up on everything that had happened over the last three years. What I found blew my mind. For the first two years, Oliver had fought his way through the corporate ranks. He went from a dismissed rookie to the undisputed, iron fisted CEO in record time. My childhood sweetheart had transformed into a ruthless tycoon, even managing to strip his own mother of any real power in the company. As for how he met Giselle, it was a classic, melodramatic story. A year ago, before Giselle hit the big time, she was tricked by a shady agent into attending an upscale cocktail party. The agent wanted to trade her for favors, and some sleazy executive wanted a fresh young starlet. Clueless and vulnerable, Giselle became their prey. Enter Oliver, who swooped in to play the hero, saving the damsel and effortlessly winning her heart. Since then, the famously stoic and aloof CEO seemed possessed. He escorted Giselle to every high profile gala, throwing prime roles, sponsorships, and connections her way without an ounce of secrecy. Though they had never officially confirmed their relationship, the public already treated them as an item. “The billionaire and his starlet,” I muttered, scrolling through fanfictions written by netizens. “Wow, these bloggers really know how to spin a tale.” Though exaggerated, most of the rumors held a grain of truth, aligning with the high society gossip everyone whispered about. Take Giselle’s background, for instance: an orphan who graduated from a second rate college but worked her way up from an extra to a leading lady. A truly inspiring rags to riches story. Then there was Oliver’s doting nature: buying her rare gems, designer gowns, and villas, while securing top directors for her projects. And finally, the drama: Oliver’s mother despised Giselle, prompting him to openly clash with his mother several times for his girlfriend’s sake. Reading all this, I finally understood why my loyal investor had contacted me the moment my plane touched down. Back then, when Oliver merely wanted to stay with an orphaned heiress like me, his mother had treated me like dirt and paid me to disappear. Now that he was actively defying her for a rising actress, she probably wanted to erase Giselle from the face of the earth. 4 I settled into my new place with the golden retriever puppy I had just bought from the pet store, stroking his fluffy head. “Cash! Cash! Who is a good boy?” My phone rang, breaking the quiet. “Miss Sally? Your resume has cleared our screening. When can you start working with us?” “Tomorrow morning works perfectly.” Hanging up, I planted a kiss on the puppy’s snout. “My lucky charm! Cash is really coming in!” The next morning, I dressed in a sleek power suit and walked confidently into the Montgomery Group headquarters. “Oh my gosh! Are you Sally?” The second I stepped into the design department, a girl with a bouncy ponytail rushed over, her eyes sparkling. “I am Sophie! I am absolutely obsessed with your work! Especially the Rose Sonnets collection! I cannot believe I get to work with you! I am screaming!” I smiled. “Thank you. That collection is my personal favorite too.” After all, the muse behind the Rose Sonnets was none other than Oliver. Sophie was incredibly warm, immediately filling me in on the office dynamics and the juicy workplace gossip. Slowly, I began to adjust to my new environment. Two days later, Sophie rushed back to my desk, whispering frantically, “Did you hear? The big boss is coming down for an inspection this morning!” I raised an eyebrow. “Which big boss?” “Mr. Montgomery! Word has it he is bringing his little actress girlfriend along too.” Oliver and Giselle? Hearing this, I grabbed my makeup bag and headed straight for the restroom. I thought it would take a while to cross paths with Oliver, but the opportunity had presented itself on a silver platter. When meeting an ex, one must never lose the battle of style. 5 As the news of Oliver’s arrival spread, the entire floor buzzed with nervous energy. But the moment the department head led a striking man and woman out of the elevator, the room fell dead silent. Oliver held Giselle’s hand, their fingers tightly intertwined, projecting an undeniable aura of intimacy. Sophie nudged my back. “Hey, don’t just stand there! The manager wants the design team in the conference room!” Snapping out of it, I followed her inside. Oliver sat at the head of the table, his posture immaculate, the sharp lines of his tailored suit accentuating his commanding presence. As we walked in, his gaze drifted toward the door. When our eyes met, I wondered what his reaction would be. Instead, he merely spared me a cold, indifferent glance before looking away. It was as if he were looking at a complete stranger. A sudden pang of bitterness flared in my chest. Suppressing the feeling, I took a seat. Our department head bowed politely. “Mr. Montgomery, Miss Giselle, the design team is all here.” Oliver arched an eyebrow at Giselle. “Take your pick.” Giselle turned to us with a radiant smile. “Sorry to bother you all. Oliver insisted on having a custom piece designed for our anniversary, so I will be relying on your talents.” What a lovely public display of affection. “Ugh, the stench of romance is suffocating,” Sophie muttered in my ear. “Wait, is it just me, or do you and his girlfriend look strikingly similar? Am I seeing things?” Before I could answer, Giselle spoke up. “I heard that Sally recently joined the team. May I meet her?” Under the collective gaze of the room, I stepped forward with a polite smile. “Hello. I’m Sally.” Giselle looked at me, her eyes widening in mock surprise. “I adore your work! I didn’t realize we not only share the same taste but also look so much alike!” 6 A provocation? It certainly felt like one. I had not expected Oliver’s little actress to be so bold. But that was fine, I was not exactly a saint either. “Yes, and I’m equally surprised,” I said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. Meeting Oliver’s burning gaze, I smiled. “Three years later, and your taste hasn’t changed a bit, Mr. Montgomery. No matter how much you shop around, you always end up choosing the same model.” Giselle’s smile faltered. Oliver stiffened, his dark eyes locking onto mine, filled with mock hostility. “Well, unlike some people, I don’t change my mind like the weather, heartless and cruel.” The surrounding colleagues began to sense the underlying tension, exchanging looks as their inner gossip mongers practically screamed with excitement. “You certainly have a sense of humor, Sally.” Eager to cut the conversation short, Giselle stepped between us, blocking Oliver’s view. She forced a tight smile. “Then it’s settled! I’ll leave Oliver’s anniversary gift in your capable hands!” She emphasized the words anniversary gift heavily, as if to remind me of her secure position. Too bad for her, I did not feel provoked in the slightest. “My pleasure,” I replied coolly. “Just remember to wire the thirty percent retainer first.” Business was business. If she wanted my expertise, she had to play by my rules, and the boss’s girlfriend was no exception. The conference room went dead silent. Our balding department head shot me a look of pure horror. I could practically read the words written across his forehead: Are you insane? Oliver stood up, his towering figure casting a heavy shadow over the room. He let out a harsh, mocking laugh. “Don’t worry. You’ll get your money.” With that parting shot, he turned on his heel and strode out. The department head sighed heavily, turning to me. “Sally, what did you see in Mr. Montgomery’s departure?” I played dumb. “That he is tall and handsome?” “Wrong! You saw a man ready to murder someone!” the manager barked in frustration. “A golden opportunity was handed to you, and you threw it right back in his face!” As the manager stormed off, my coworkers cast pitying or mocking glances my way. Only Sophie looked genuinely worried. “Sally, being honest isn’t a crime, but in corporate life, you need to watch your back.” “Me?” I pointed to myself, amused. “Oh, don’t worry about me. I have plenty of tricks up my sleeve.” Before Sophie could reply, my phone vibrated on the desk, displaying an unknown number. I offered an apologetic smile and stepped away to answer. A man’s voice spoke. “Miss Sally, I’m Mr. Montgomery’s assistant. The boss would like a word with you.” I scoffed. “Are billionaires always this arrogant? Can’t even make his own phone calls?” Silence stretched on the other end. Two seconds later, a familiar, gravelly voice cut through the receiver, sounding thoroughly annoyed. “Sally, if you want your retainer, take me off your block list.” 7 I tapped my forehead, realizing I had completely forgotten about that. Come to think of it, Oliver’s number and social media profile had been sitting in my blocked contacts for three whole years. It was high time to let him breathe. As soon as I unblocked him, I looked up to see Sophie staring at me with pure curiosity. “Was that the boss? I’ve been dying to ask, what is the history between you two?” I closed my eyes and summarized it in three words: “My ex. We loved.” Sophie’s jaw dropped so low it could have hit the floor. That evening, while I was out walking Cash, my phone buzzed with a bank transfer. I tapped it. A new message sat at the top of my chat screen, sent from a contact labeled simply with the letter O. His deep blue profile picture looked vaguely familiar, stirring up distant, hazy memories. That summer had been incredibly hot. I had been obsessed with a melancholy love song about star crossed lovers. I used to walk around with my headphones on, humming about how a bird and a fish falling in love was just a beautiful tragedy, while frantically sketching ocean views on my tablet. Whenever I was buried in my work, chewing on the end of my stylus, Oliver would come over to pester me. Back then, I still had some baby fat on my cheeks, and he loved to pinch them. “Do you really love the ocean that much? I will buy you an island one day so you can look at it every single second.” I would glare at him. “How many times do I have to tell you? Hands off the face!” The boyish teenager would grin, looking absolutely smitten. “But you’re so chubby, like a cute little woodchuck.” That wasn’t exactly flattering. In a fit of pique, I had sketched a drawing of a boy sitting alone on a deserted island, pointing to the figure to threaten him. “Call me a woodchuck again, and I’ll dump you on a deserted island!” Pulling myself back to reality, I stared at the image on my screen. Oliver was actually still using that very sketch as his profile picture. But wasn’t he terrified of deep water? A sudden tug on the leash snapped me out of my thoughts. Cash barked twice toward a storefront, then looked back at me with big, pleading eyes. I looked up to see the pet store where I usually bought his kibble and treats. “You greedy little thing, you have an incredible memory,” I laughed, stroking his head as he leaned into my hand, panting happily. “Lucky for you, your mama just came into some money. Come on, let’s go on a shopping spree!” Cash bolted forward, and I struggled with the leash, using my free hand to accept the transfer and send Oliver a playful sticker. [Thanks, big boss!] 8 Since the responsibility of designing the gift for Oliver’s girlfriend fell entirely on me, the department head generously granted me paid leave. I did not even have to come into the office, allowing me to focus on the project and communicate directly with Oliver. I slept in until I woke up naturally, lounging on the couch and cuddling my puppy. Suddenly, a text alert chimed, showing a deposit of five million dollars. I stared at the zeros in utter disbelief. Since when was my investor this generous? Was she worried about my slow progress and sending a subtle financial push? Nothing motivates quite like money. I propped my chin in my hand and typed out a message. [Mr. Montgomery, are there any specific design elements your girlfriend prefers?] Five minutes later. Oliver: [Can’t discuss this over text. Come to my office.] Just what I wanted! I bounded off the couch, picked out a stunning outfit, and applied some natural looking makeup. When I walked into Oliver’s office, he tried his absolute best to look professional, but I caught the sudden spark of warmth in his eyes the second I entered. Oh, please. You’re not fooling anyone. His assistant escorted me in before quietly slipping out, closing the door behind him. The massive office was left entirely to the two of us. He was wearing a crisp black shirt today, buttoned all the way to the top, radiating an aura of cold restraint. He looked incredibly handsome, and highly respectable. Noticing my gaze, Oliver raised an eyebrow. “What are you looking at?” I lied smoothly. “Just admiring how remarkably handsome and dignified you look, Mr. Montgomery.” He scoffed, a look of disapproval on his face. “Flirtatious.” I rolled my eyes. If you’re so displeased, why are the corners of your mouth twitching upward? I took out my tablet and showed him a few concept sketches. “What kind of jewelry are we thinking? A bracelet or a ring is simple enough, we can just incorporate some meaningful symbols. A necklace would allow for more elaborate details.” Oliver, acting like a true tycoon, replied, “How about a full set?” I flashed a professional smile. “Of course.” He spared me a cool glance, his long fingers tapping slowly on the mahogany desk. “Design it with the Rose Sonnets aesthetic in mind.” My smile vanished completely. Staring at his calm expression, a sudden wave of anger surged in my chest. “Absolutely not.” I gripped my tablet. “The Rose Sonnets collection belongs to my memories with my ex boyfriend. I doubt your girlfriend would appreciate her anniversary gift being a recycled memory of another woman.” “Is that so?” Oliver’s voice dropped, his gaze turning dark and intense. “You seem to care quite a lot, Miss Sally. It sounds like you still hold deep feelings for your ex.” I nodded slowly. “Of course. After all, the dead cannot rise, and this collection is my only remaining tribute to him.” Oliver’s smug smile froze instantly. He stood up and walked toward me, his presence suddenly suffocatingly cold. “I had no idea I was no longer among the living.”

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1 “Mom, I cannot breathe. Ms. Melinda made me eat a peanut butter cookie…” The smartwatch speaker crackled with my daughter’s weak groans. Underneath her tiny voice was a high pitched, terrifying wheeze. I glanced at my phone screen. Exactly six minutes had passed since she was force fed that peanut cookie! For severe anaphylaxis, the golden window for emergency resuscitation is only fifteen minutes! I shoved the conference room doors open and sprinted toward the stairwell like a madwoman. My department head was still shouting my name from the head of the table. My husband David was on a business trip. My mother in law was completely useless and could not even tell the difference between a common cold and a severe allergy. I could not rely on anyone else. I was the only one who could save her. The preschool was only three traffic lights away. I slammed my foot onto the gas pedal and dialed the teacher’s number, roaring into the Bluetooth mic. “Stab her with the EpiPen right now! It is in the front pocket of her backpack!” A condescending giggle echoed through the car speakers. “Oh please, Rachel. Are you auditioning for a soap opera? It is just psychosomatic. She is throwing a tantrum. Let her drink some warm water and she will be perfectly fine.” “Shut up!” I screamed. My eyes were completely bloodshot. “If my daughter suffers permanent brain damage from oxygen deprivation, I will make sure you rot in a prison cell for the rest of your miserable life!” Without waiting for her to respond, I dialed emergency services. “911, what is your emergency?” “Southwood Avenue, Sunflower Academy! A teacher force fed my daughter peanuts. She is going into anaphylactic shock right now!” I jammed my wireless earbud into my ear and jerked the steering wheel hard. The Range Rover tires shrieked against the asphalt. I cut off a black sedan with a violent brake check. The other driver leaned out his window and cursed at me, but I could not hear the outside world. My brain was completely consumed by the sound of my daughter’s fading breath. The dispatcher remained professionally calm. “Ma’am, please take a deep breath. Does your daughter have a documented allergy history? What are her exact symptoms?” “Severe peanut allergy! I signed a medical waiver and a strict dietary restriction form the day she enrolled!” I bit down on my lip so hard I tasted copper. “She is suffocating! The teacher is actively refusing to administer her EpiPen! This is medical negligence! This is attempted murder!” “Copy that. I am dispatching paramedics to your location right now.” The rapid clacking of a keyboard echoed over the line. “Officers from the local precinct should arrive on scene within five minutes. Please drive safely.” The moment the call disconnected, my dashboard screen lit up with an incoming call from my boss. The second I answered, he unleashed a barrage of corporate rage. “Rachel, have you completely lost your mind? Where the hell are you going? The international pitch is at two thirty!” “The entire executive board is sitting in this room waiting for you. Get your ass back here right now!” The traffic light ahead flipped to red. I did not even touch the brake. I pressed the accelerator all the way to the floorboards. “Cancel the pitch. My kid is dying at preschool. I am going to save her.” “Dying? Stop giving me these pathetic excuses!” my boss sneered over the line. “You called out sick last month because she had a fever. What is the game this time? Do you even want this job anymore?” The heavy SUV launched through the intersection. A chaotic symphony of car horns blared from both sides. I stared at the congested traffic ahead with absolute ice in my veins. “Do whatever you want. Fire me. Dock my pay. Just leave me alone.” I cut the call and immediately blocked his number. Nothing in this universe mattered more than Deborah’s life. The smartwatch control app was still broadcasting live audio. Through the static, I heard Jessica Melinda’s shrill, nasty voice. “Stop playing dead! Get up off the floor.” “All the other kids ate my homemade cookies and they are perfectly fine. Why are you acting like such a fragile little brat?” “Oh, you are going to fake a panic attack now? Is this how your mother lets you act at home?” A loud screech of a chair being dragged across the tiles followed. “Deborah!” I screamed into the phone, my voice cracking. “Deborah, do not be afraid! Mommy is almost there. Just hold on!” There was no response from my sweet girl. Only a heavy, agonizing wheeze that sounded like someone was crushing her throat. “Jessica!” I yelled the teacher’s name, my entire body violently shaking. “Open her backpack right now! Take the red pen and stab it directly into her thigh!” “If you do not want to go to jail, you will do exactly what I say!” Jessica seemed slightly startled by the sheer ferocity in my voice. But a second later, she let out a scoff dripping with arrogant contempt. “Rachel, do you suffer from some sort of persecution complex?” “I took a child psychology seminar. This is a classic somatic symptom disorder. She just wants adult attention.” “The more you coddle her, the worse this behavior gets.” “I am going to cure her little princess syndrome today. She needs to learn that this classroom is not her personal kingdom!” My vision went black at the edges. My fingernails dug so deeply into the leather steering wheel they almost drew blood. This self righteous, ignorant fool had absolutely no idea how fast anaphylactic shock could kill. “I am going to say this one last time. Give her the shot.” My voice dropped into a terrifyingly calm, dead register. “If she dies, I will tear your entire world apart.” The line went dead silent for two seconds. Jessica was clearly rattled by the pure malice in my words. But her deep rooted arrogance prevented her from admitting a mistake. “Stop threatening me. I am going to take her to the washroom to splash some cold water on her face. That will wake her up.” Her footsteps faded away. The smartwatch only picked up the faint buzz of static. I checked the dashboard clock. Eight minutes had passed since the allergic reaction triggered. Ahead of me was a long, narrow one way street. Two massive delivery trucks were driving side by side, blocking the entire road at a snail’s pace. I laid on the horn. The truck driver just lazily tapped his brakes in response. Every single second of that fifteen minute window was slipping through my fingers. I caught a glimpse of my own bloodshot eyes in the rearview mirror. I whipped the steering wheel to the right. The Range Rover hopped the curb and plowed directly onto the pedestrian sidewalk. The undercarriage scraped against the concrete with a deafening screech. Pedestrians screamed and dove into the bushes. I kept my foot pinned on the gas, squeezing the massive vehicle between two thick oak trees. The entire right side of the car was violently scraped. The passenger side mirror shattered and snapped off completely. I did not care. As long as the engine was running, I was going to get there. I blasted out of the bottleneck. There was only one traffic light left before the academy. The smartwatch picked up the sound of running tap water. Then came Jessica’s impatient voice. “Are you done washing your face? Stop pretending you are dying. Nobody is buying it.” “Cough… Ms. Melinda… it hurts…” Deborah’s voice was a microscopic whisper. She sounded like she was fading away. “What hurts? You just want to skip afternoon gym class.” I heard a sharp smack. Jessica was physically slapping something. “Stand up straight! Stop sliding onto the floor!” Listening to those sounds felt like someone was taking a sledgehammer to my heart. She was abusing my daughter. My child was collapsing from asphyxiation, and this monster was physically punishing her. “Jessica, if you touch her one more time, I swear to God!” I roared at the microphone. Jessica snorted dismissively. “Look, Rachel. If you bring your kid to our academy, you need to trust our educational methods.” “We are building her resilience.” “Your toxic coddling is going to ruin this child.” She reached out and manually severed the smartwatch connection. The car cabin plunged into a suffocating silence. Only the sound of my own ragged breathing echoed off the glass. The traffic light ahead turned red. The countdown timer displayed a full sixty seconds. Cross traffic began to flow into the intersection. I never touched the brake. I pressed the gas pedal flat against the floor. The engine roared, and I launched the car straight into the crossfire. A massive dump truck loaded with gravel was barreling in from the side. The driver slammed his horn in panic. The giant steel grill of the truck missed my rear bumper by an inch. The pure kinetic force whipped my body sideways. My head slammed against the driver side window. A sharp burst of pain exploded across my forehead, and warm liquid began to drip down my eyebrow. I did not even wipe it away. My eyes were locked onto the brightly colored building sitting on the corner block. Sunflower Academy. Before the car even came to a full stop, I shoved the door open. The seatbelt dug painfully into my chest as I scrambled to unbuckle it. Because the car was still rolling, I basically tumbled out of the driver seat. My knees slammed brutally onto the concrete pavement. My sheer tights shredded instantly. A blinding pain shot up my legs. Blood and gravel mixed on my skin. I crawled up using my hands and feet, stumbling frantically toward the academy’s main entrance. The automatic sliding glass doors were locked tight. Inside the lobby, a young receptionist was looking down, endlessly scrolling on her phone. “Open the door!” I threw myself against the glass, pounding on it with both hands. “My daughter is dying! Open the fucking door!” The receptionist jumped in her chair. She looked up, her face twisting into a scowl when she saw a disheveled woman covered in blood banging on the glass. She walked over slowly, standing safely behind the glass. She tapped a printed sign taped to the window. “Ma’am, it is two thirty. This is not a designated pickup time.” “According to campus protocol, parents are not permitted inside.” I glared at her. My eyes were completely bloodshot and feral. “My daughter is in anaphylactic shock! Her rescue window is closing!” “Unlock this door right now! I will take full legal responsibility!” The receptionist rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “Look, lady, do not try that dramatic nonsense with me.” “Every single day, parents make up ridiculous excuses to pull their kids out early.” “If it is really an emergency, scan the QR code on that podium outside.” “Fill out the digital release form, wait for the homeroom teacher to approve it, and then I will unlock the door.” She pointed a manicured finger at a dusty sign sitting on the sidewalk. Looking at her cold, bureaucratic face, every last thread of my sanity snapped. “Screw your protocol!” I took two steps back and threw my entire body weight against the glass doors. My shoulder slammed into the tempered glass with a heavy thud. The glass did not break, but my entire left side went numb. The receptionist stepped back in shock. All the color drained from her face. “What are you doing? That is destruction of private property!” “If you do not stop, I am calling security!” She grabbed her walkie talkie and started calling for the guards. I ignored her entirely. Through the transparent doors, I looked deep into the main corridor. At the very end of the hall, right outside the children’s washroom, a tiny, familiar figure slowly slid down the wall and collapsed onto the floor. It was my Deborah. She was wearing the little pink sundress I had put on her this morning. Now, she was lying completely motionless on the cold ceramic tiles. Jessica was standing over her. The teacher actually used her foot to nudge my baby’s lifeless body. “Stop playing dead. Get up!” Her muffled voice drifted through the corridor. I lost my mind. I completely lost my mind. “Deborah!” I let out a bloodcurdling scream. I clawed at the seam of the glass doors with my bare hands. My fingernails bent backward and snapped. Blood smeared across the pristine glass. Seeing me act like a wild animal, the receptionist did not open the door. Instead, she pressed her entire body against the glass to ensure the magnetic lock held firm. “Where is security? Get to the front lobby right now! There is a crazy woman trying to break in!” She screamed into her radio, looking at me with pure disgust. “I am warning you! These doors are custom imported! You cannot afford to replace them!” I stood there panting heavily, staring at her through the glass. “Move away… my daughter is in there… she is dying…” My voice was hoarse and broken, laced with a despairing sob. A few other parents who had just dropped off paperwork stopped on the sidewalk. They stood a few feet away, whispering and pointing at me. I turned around, my knees buckling as I dropped to the ground in front of them. “Please. Please help me.” I grabbed the pant leg of a well dressed father. “Help me smash this door open. My daughter is in shock in there. We are running out of time.” “Please have some mercy…” The man quickly took a massive step backward. He aggressively yanked his leg out of my grip and brushed off his expensive slacks. “Lady, do not touch me.” “The school has security rules for a reason. You cannot just break in like a maniac.” A woman next to him with perfectly curled hair chimed in. “Seriously. Parents these days are so dramatic.” “What could possibly happen inside a premium academy? The teachers know what they are doing.” “If you keep screaming, you are going to terrify the children inside!” They stared at me with completely dead eyes. Not a single one of them was willing to help. Not a single one of them thought a child’s life was worth more than a glass door. I looked at them, then turned back to look at the receptionist leaning against the glass. A crushing wave of despair swallowed me whole. I slowly pushed myself up from the pavement. The blood on my knees had already mixed with the gravel and begun to clot. I was done begging. Expecting strangers to care was a death sentence. I turned my head and scanned the exterior of the building. Within seconds, my eyes locked onto a bright red emergency fire cabinet mounted on the brick wall. Behind the glass doors, the receptionist was still yapping. “You need to leave right now. Security is on the way. You are going to get arrested…” I ripped the designer high heel off my foot. I held it upside down, exposing the solid steel stiletto heel. I aimed for the four corners of the fire cabinet glass and swung with every ounce of strength I had left. Smash! Smash! The impact tore the skin on my palms. Blood splattered across the cabinet. With a loud crash, the reinforced glass spiderwebbed and collapsed onto the pavement. A few jagged shards sliced deep into the back of my hand and forearm. Bright red blood instantly welled up and dripped onto the concrete. I did not even flinch. I reached my bleeding arm straight into the jagged opening of the cabinet. I pulled out the heavy, solid steel fire ax. The red handle and the gleaming silver blade caught the afternoon sunlight, reflecting a cold, merciless shine. The surrounding parents let out terrified shrieks and scattered in every direction. The woman with the curled hair tripped over her own feet and scrambled away on all fours. I dragged the ax along the ground and walked back to the glass doors. The smug superiority on the receptionist’s face completely vanished, replaced by sheer, unadulterated terror. Her legs shook uncontrollably as she tried to back away, only to realize she was cornered against the security desk. “What… what are you doing?” She stuttered, her voice cracking in panic. “That is a felony! I am calling the cops!” I stared at her through the glass. My eyes were completely dead. “You make minimum wage. Do not throw your life away for this.” I raised both hands and lifted the heavy fire ax high above my head. “Go find your security guards.” The receptionist let out a piercing scream and abandoned her post. She scrambled away toward the back corridors, leaving her phone sitting on the desk. I took a deep breath, channeling every drop of adrenaline and fury in my body into my arms. I aimed the heavy steel blade directly at the U shaped metal lock connecting the two glass panels. I swung down with absolute brutal force. Crack.

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1 As the only high-altitude search and rescue operative in the country capable of traversing the Black Wind Gap without artificial anchors, I just received a private rescue contract worth thirty million dollars. The missing person was trapped down a glacial crevasse at an altitude of 23,000 feet. A massive blizzard had completely sealed the mountain, and his oxygen tank had less than sixteen hours remaining. Seven years ago, I too knelt just beyond the snowline and begged for a rescue. My daughter was trapped in a snow cave during a winter camp. The rescue rope team had already reached the base of the mountain, but they were abruptly diverted by my husband, Arthur Rauch. He redirected them simply to rescue a wildly expensive poodle belonging to his childhood sweetheart’s son. He told me the boy had severe trauma, and that dog was his entire life. But my daughter was my entire life. My daughter eventually froze to death in that snow cave. I divorced Arthur, plunged into the snow-capped mountains like a woman possessed, and spent the next seven years saving countless people who didn’t deserve to die. Until today. The exact same mountain, the exact same wind corridor, the exact same countdown to fatal hypothermia. And the person trapped at the bottom of the crevasse was his sweetheart’s son. Arthur offered thirty million dollars for me to head up the mountain immediately. I looked at the dossier and smiled. “I can’t walk that path.” … “Boss, look at it again.” Cole slid the tablet across the table, his fingertips tapping the screen so hard they turned white. “North face glacial crevasse, 23,200 feet. The GPS beacon is still moving, which means he is alive.” “The client is offering thirty million. The deposit is already sitting in the Association’s escrow account. If you just nod your head, the chopper will be here in thirty minutes.” I kept my head down, wiping the rust spots off my ice axe. I didn’t reach for the tablet. “Return it.” Cole froze, thinking he had misheard me. “What?” “I am not taking this job.” The room plunged into absolute silence. Cole had been with me for six years. He had seen me drag pregnant women out of avalanche trenches. He had seen me hang off a cliff at thirty below zero for seven straight hours. He had seen me almost lose half my foot to frostbite just to save a kid I had never met. So he didn’t understand. “Boss, you never cherry-pick your jobs.” “I am picking this time.” “Why?” He flipped the tablet around, his voice dropping low. “Look at the photo. Oliver Vance. Twenty-three years old. Stepped into a blind void while trekking with a team. He only has one backup oxygen cylinder left with him.” “The weather station says a whiteout gale is going to hit tonight. After midnight, no one will be able to get in.” My hand paused on the ice axe. Twenty-three. When my daughter, Josephine, died, she was only seven. She never got the chance to live to twenty-three. Cole kept talking. “You are the only one who can cross the Black Wind Gap. Any other team going up there wouldn’t be rescuing him, they would just be throwing more bodies into the void. Boss, I know you don’t care about the money, but that is a living person.” I looked up at him. “Cole, you have been with me a long time. When have I ever backed down from a job because of the payout, or because I didn’t think the person was worth saving?” He didn’t have an answer. I hung the ice axe back on the wall and turned to inspect my climbing ropes. “Then you should know, if I say I am not taking it, there is a damn good reason.” “But you have to tell me what that reason is.” Cole’s eyes were practically bloodshot with anxiety. “Thirty million could buy the team two brand-new snowcats and fully fund our gear for an entire year. And more importantly, there is a guy waiting down there.” I didn’t answer. The screen was still lit, displaying the client’s profile. Arthur Rauch. It had been seven years, but the eyes in his photograph were just as sharp, looking like a man who would never bow his head to anyone. He just looked colder, and much more expensive. Behind him was his Rauch Alpine Resort Group, a massive corporate machine capable of packaging an entire mountain range into a commercial commodity. I used to think those eyes would protect me and Josephine for the rest of our lives. Until Josephine was trapped in that snow cave. I knelt in the snow outside the rescue station, begging him not to pull the rope team away. But he just held his phone to his ear and said, “Kia, Chloe’s situation is more urgent. Oliver cannot lose that dog.” To this day, I remember Josephine’s final voice message. “Mommy, I’m not cold anymore. I’m just a little sleepy. Did Daddy go get my rescue rope?” No. Her daddy went to get someone else’s dog. I closed my eyes and pushed the tablet away. Cole stood there for a long time before finally asking in a low voice, “Boss, do you know the client?” I pulled on my insulated gloves, my voice completely flat. “I don’t just know him.” “Then who…” “He owes me a blizzard.” 2 At nine o’clock that night, the satellite phone rang. Cole stood in the doorway, his expression complicated. “The client is demanding to speak directly to the team captain. If you don’t want to talk, I’ll block it.” I looked at the number flashing on the screen, stayed silent for a few seconds, and finally reached out. “I’ll take it.” The second the call connected, a man’s voice came through, heavily suppressing his anger. “Are you Captain Ziskie?” Hearing that voice, my fingers unconsciously tightened around the receiver. Seven years had passed, but Arthur’s voice hadn’t changed at all. It was the same deep baritone he used to whisper in my ear when he coaxed Josephine to sleep. It was the same cold, rational tone he used when he ordered the rescue team to pack up and leave us in the snow. “I am.” “You should have read the brief. Money is not an issue. I just want him brought out alive.” “I can’t take this job.” The line went completely dead for a second. Then, he let out a short, cynical laugh. “Can’t take it? Captain Ziskie, I am not asking for your willingness. I am giving you the floor to set your price. If thirty million isn’t enough, make it fifty.” “It’s not about the money.” “One hundred million.” He answered instantly, tossing the number out like it was pocket change. “Captain Ziskie, I have run a background check on your base. Your equipment is outdated, your funding is bleeding out, and your team’s insurance premiums are about to default. A hundred million is enough to keep your operation alive for decades.” “Mr. Rauch, I said no.” His breathing grew heavy over the static. “Do you even know what you are saying? There is a human life on that mountain. The Black Wind Gap has a window open until tonight. If we miss it, he freezes to death.” “I know.” “You know, and you are still refusing?” His voice plummeted to absolute zero. “Don’t you professional rescue climbers preach about saving lives all day long? I have offered you enough money, the boy is still breathing, on what grounds are you refusing to save him?” I looked out the window. The ice pellets were violently lashing against the glass, dense and deafening, just like the sound that battered my heart seven years ago. “On the grounds that I am a human being, not a dog you can buy with a checkbook.” Arthur paused. “What is that supposed to mean?” “It means exactly what I said,” I replied. “Find someone better.” “There is no one better.” He gritted his words. “I already checked with the Association. You are the only person who can cross the gap tonight. Captain Ziskie, I don’t care what personal issues you have. If you aren’t wheels up in two hours, your team will never see another commercial rescue permit again.” Cole’s face changed drastically. He opened his mouth to speak, but I raised my hand to stop him. “Mr. Rauch, you are welcome to try.” “Are you threatening me?” “I am just warning you.” My voice was ragged, ground down by years of wind and snow. “Instead of wasting your time on me, you better start looking for someone else. If you wait any longer, forget about bringing Oliver back alive, you won’t even be able to find his beacon.” A suppressed, heavy exhale came through the line. “Do you know Oliver?” “I don’t know him.” “Then why do you sound so full of hate?” I lowered my eyes, looking at the brutal, jagged scar across my palm. It was left from when I dug through the avalanche with my bare hands until my fingernails ripped off. “Because there is a path I have walked once, and once was enough.” I hung up the phone. Cole stared at me, his lips moving before he finally spoke. “Boss, who is Arthur Rauch?” I placed the satellite phone back on the desk. “My ex-husband.” Cole froze entirely. I turned back to sort my carabiners, letting a long silence stretch before I added one final sentence. “He is also Josephine’s father.” 3 At 1:00 AM, the heavy metal door of the base was violently hammered open. When Cole rushed in, all the blood had drained from his face. The zipper of his down jacket wasn’t even pulled up. “Boss, something happened.” I shot up from the cot. My first instinct was to check the radar. “Did the mountain signal drop?” “Not the mountain. It’s my sister.” He shoved his phone toward me, his hands shaking violently. The screen displayed a text message from his younger sister, Maya. [Cole, the company suddenly transferred me to the North Face supply station as a temporary comms operator. They said it is an emergency corporate project and I had to report immediately. The wind out here is terrifying. It is just me and two guys I don’t know at the station. Don’t worry about me, I will call you in the morning.] The message was sent forty minutes ago. Reading it, my stomach completely dropped. Maya was fresh out of college, working an administrative desk job at a resort hotel owned by the Rauch Group. She had zero alpine certifications and absolutely no experience operating high-altitude comms at night. The North Face supply station was situated dangerously close to the Black Wind Gap. Once the whiteout hit, that station would be an isolated death trap. Cole’s eyes were bloodshot. “I tried calling her, but it won’t connect. Boss, it’s Arthur, isn’t it? He found out I’m your second-in-command, and he is using my sister to force your hand.” I grabbed my heavy parka. “Don’t panic yet.” “How can I not panic?” Cole’s voice cracked. “She is the only family I have left. My mom told me to protect her before she died. Maya doesn’t even know what snow blindness is! They sent her to that station, they are basically killing her!” He suddenly dropped to his knees, slamming against the concrete floor with a heavy thud that struck me right in the chest. “Boss, I know you hate Arthur, and I know I shouldn’t be asking you this. But Maya is innocent. I will do whatever you want. If you want me to save Oliver for you, or if you want me to go in your place, I will go. Please, save my sister.” I crouched down and hauled him back to his feet with all my strength. “Cole, look at me.” He looked up, tears mixing with the melting snow on his face. “Your sister is going to be fine.” “But…” “Arthur wants to force me to bow my head. He doesn’t actually want Maya dead.” I stared into his eyes. “I will bring her back, but I am still not taking the contract for Oliver.” Cole stared at me blankly, looking as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Right at that moment, the deafening roar of helicopter rotors ripped through the air outside the base. The snow was violently whipped into a cyclone, and the blinding white glare of searchlights swept across our windows. Cole snapped his head around. A sleek black helicopter touched down on our landing pad, its fuselage emblazoned with the silver mountain crest of the Rauch Group. The cabin door slid open, and Arthur stepped out. He wore a heavy tactical winter coat over a black windbreaker, flanked by two bodyguards. Trailing closely behind him was Chloe. Arthur held her arm to steady her. As her snow boots hit the ground, she stumbled slightly, looking fragile enough to be blown away by the wind. Seven years had passed, but she still perfected that delicate, helpless aura. Her eyes were rimmed red, as if the entire world owed her its pity. I stood in the doorway, watching them walk toward my base. Arthur’s eyes swept over my face, pausing for less than a second. He didn’t recognize me. Makes sense. The Kia Ziskie from seven years ago was Mrs. Rauch, the woman who wore elegant gowns to accompany him to galas. The woman standing here now had half her face windburned, a jagged avalanche scar cutting through her left eyebrow, and a voice ground down to gravel by years of shouting over sub-zero blizzards. Of course he didn’t recognize me. Because he never truly looked at me in the first place. Arthur stopped in front of the door. His gaze flicked over to Cole, and he spoke with freezing authority. “You must be Cole.” Cole’s fists instantly clenched tight. Arthur let out a faint smile. “Your sister is currently in my supply station. She is safe for now. As for how long she remains safe, that entirely depends on the choice your captain makes.” 4 The moment Cole lunged forward, I slammed my hand onto his chest, pinning him back. “Stand down.” His shoulders were shaking under my palm, strung tight like a bow about to snap. Seeing this, a flicker of satisfaction crossed Arthur’s eyes. “It seems Captain Ziskie values loyalty. That makes this much easier.” He walked into the base, scanning it like an inspector evaluating a condemned warehouse. His eyes swept over the frayed rope bags, the blunted crampons, and the heavily patched tents. A microscopic frown touched his brow. “I will say this one last time. One hundred million, wheels up immediately. Once Oliver is brought back alive, I will fund a complete gear overhaul for your team, and I will ensure Maya leaves the supply station unharmed.” I stood my ground, unmoving. “I’m not taking it.” Chloe finally stepped forward, unable to hold back. Her voice was breathy, hovering on the edge of a sob. “Captain, I know you think we are being cruel, but Oliver really doesn’t have much time. He was always a sickly child. He is terrified of the dark and the cold. It must be so narrow down there in that crevasse. He has to be so scared.” Tears began to fall as she spoke. “I am begging you. You are a woman too. Can’t you understand the heart of a mother?” I looked at her. Seven years ago, she had cried exactly like this over the phone with Arthur. “Arthur, Oliver refuses to leave. The poodle fell into the trench. He says if the dog dies, he won’t survive it. I don’t know what to do.” A dog. While my Josephine sat shivering in a snow cave on the other side of the mountain ridge, gripping her last hand warmer with tiny, freezing fingers, waiting for her daddy to come save her. “Do not use the word mother to manipulate me,” I said. Chloe’s face went completely pale, acting as if she had just suffered a massive injustice, and immediately shrank behind Arthur’s back. Arthur’s eyes turned lethal. “Captain Ziskie, my patience has a limit.” “My answer hasn’t changed.” “Fine.” He pulled out his phone and dialed a number right in front of my face. “North Face supply station. Send the new comms operator out to check the exterior perimeter lines. Yes, alone. Tell her to go read the anemometer right now.” Cole completely lost his mind. “Arthur! You son of a bitch!” A bodyguard immediately stepped in to block him. Cole was shoved backward, slamming into the sharp corner of a metal desk. The skin above his eyebrow split open instantly, and blood poured down his face. He didn’t even bother wiping it. He scrambled up and dropped to his knees right in front of me, his voice entirely broken. “Boss, please. Forget about me, just save Maya. I’ll bash my head against the floor for you if you want.” I looked down at him, suddenly remembering myself from seven years ago. I had knelt exactly like this. I knelt in front of Arthur, in front of the rescue crew, in the blinding snow, begging them not to leave, begging them to leave just one rope, begging them to give Josephine just a little more time. Nobody listened. Arthur hung up the phone and looked at me. “It’s really quite simple. You go up the mountain, and everyone lives. You refuse, and Maya becomes a tragic little accident in tonight’s blizzard. Captain, are you really going to let your second-in-command’s sister die just to protect your so-called principles?” I slowly raised my head. “Arthur, you really don’t want to force me down that path.” He froze slightly. “What did you just call me?” I took a slow step forward, locking eyes with him. “Because if I cross the Black Wind Gap and I actually reach Oliver, I can’t guarantee I won’t just take a knife to his safety rope.” Chloe let out a piercing scream. “Don’t you dare!” I didn’t even look at her. I kept my eyes locked on Arthur, spitting out every word with absolute precision. “After all, seven years ago, you personally ordered my daughter’s lifeline to be cut.”

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My husband is practically useless when it comes to basic survival. He mixed bleach and ammonia toilet cleaner, gassed himself, and ended up in a vegetative state. The internet hailed me as an absolute saint for refusing to leave his side. But they have no idea. I just could not bear to abandon my own masterpiece. 1 My phone rang while I was at the local organic market haggling over the price of jumbo shrimp. Zane had texted me his mandatory menu for the day. He demanded a medium rare ribeye steak, garlic butter fried shrimp, and a delicate asparagus soup. Dessert was supposed to be homemade tiramisu. My plan was to grab the shrimp, hit the supermarket for espresso powder, and pick up that specific brand of cold pressed orange juice he liked. I absolutely despised this daily grocery run. But I had no choice. Zane refused to eat anything that wasn’t bought fresh that exact morning. The last time I caught a fever and dared to serve him frozen fish fillets, he locked me in the pitch black basement for two days to think about my mistakes. Right as I was bagging the shrimp, my screen lit up. “Hello, is this Olivia? This is Memorial General Hospital. Your husband…” A loud ringing drowned out the rest of the sentence. I dropped the groceries. Ignoring the vendor yelling at me to pay, I hailed a cab straight to the emergency room. By the time I arrived, Zane had already been wheeled into the resuscitation bay. Standing awkwardly by the double doors was Jason, his newly recruited gaming sidekick. “What happened? He gets regular checkups. How could he just pass out?” I grabbed Jason by the sleeves, shaking him with wide, panicked eyes. “Ma’am, please try to breathe. Let the kid explain.” I turned around to see two uniformed police officers walking toward us. I put on my best face of utter confusion. “Why are the cops here? Was Zane attacked?” Jason gently patted my back. “Liv, take a breath. I was the one who called 911.” He wore a mask of sorrow, but I caught the briefest flicker of cunning in his eyes before he looked down. I wiped a dry hand over my face. “Tell me what happened.” Jason explained that he showed up at our house at eight in the morning for their usual streaming session. He knocked for ten minutes. No answer. He called. Voicemail. “I figured he just overslept, so I called you, Liv. You gave me the garage keypad code.” I nodded, confirming the story. I originally told him to wait in his car since Zane hated people in his space, but Jason claimed he was about to wet himself, so I let him inside. The moment Jason opened the door, a thick, burning chemical stench hit him. Covering his mouth, he followed the smell to the master bathroom. “Zane was just lying there dead still on the tiles. I freaked out and called the cops. That is all I know.” 2 I looked away from Jason and stared blankly at the closed doors of the emergency room. Honestly, I was tearing myself apart inside. Half of me was terrified the doors would open and Zane would walk out completely fine. The other half was worried he would just drop dead on the table. After an eternity of waiting, the red light above the doors finally shut off. They wheeled Zane out. I stumbled forward, my face twisted into a perfect portrait of agony and desperation. Anyone watching would have sworn I was a woman deeply, madly in love. In reality, I just needed to know exactly how the rest of my life was going to play out. The doctor pulled down his mask. “We did everything we could. But he inhaled a massive amount of toxic gas. The lack of oxygen to the brain was severe. He will likely remain in a vegetative state.” Vegetative state. Those two words struck me like a bolt of pure electricity. I threw myself over Zane’s unconscious body and wailed. “Zane! It is all my fault. Why wasn’t it me? Please wake up!” One of the officers stepped forward to comfort me. “Olivia, his life is saved. The doctor said he might stay in this state, but medical science does miracles every day. There is still hope.” I nodded vigorously, keeping my mouth shut. I did not dare speak a single word. I knew if I opened my mouth, a wild, hysterical laugh would burst out. A vegetative state. This was absolutely perfect. Rest easy, my sweet husband. I promise to take exceptionally good care of you. 3 After filling out the endless admission paperwork, the police pulled me aside for a formal statement. “Our forensics team checked the scene. Someone mixed bleach with an ammonia based toilet cleaner. It created a massive cloud of chloramine gas, which dropped your husband instantly.” I nodded slowly. It sounded exactly like the tragic accident it was. Detective Harrison leaned against the wall, his sharp eyes locking onto mine. “Except… it is common sense not to mix bleach and ammonia. Did your husband really not know that?” He was probing. He was suspecting me. It made sense. Whenever a spouse nearly dies under weird circumstances, the partner is always suspect number one. Especially when the victim brings in the kind of money Zane did. I sniffled loudly, wiping my nose with a tissue. “He is utterly clueless about real life. His brain only has room for video games. I am not even joking, Detective. Whenever he uses the bathroom, he leaves the toilet brush for me. He does not know how to clean a single thing in that house.” “So he is a giant toddler?” a younger cop muttered under his breath. People outside our world could never fathom this kind of dynamic. Detective Harrison shot the rookie a glare before turning back to me. “He cannot even clean a toilet? Does he have a physical disability?” “Of course not!” Jason chimed in, eager to defend his idol. “Zane is one of the top gaming streamers on the platform. The guy pulls in six figures a month. Why would a guy like that scrub his own toilet?” Jason puffed out his chest. “You have no idea how jealous his fans are of Liv. If I could marry a guy with that kind of bank account, I would gladly wipe his ass for him!” Zane had used those exact words on me. He used to tell me that if I did not want to do the chores, I could pack my bags. He had a line of girls wrapped around the block begging for the chance to scrub his floors. Under the shocked gaze of the two cops, I offered a pathetic, embarrassed nod. Zane had no outside vices. He did not drink or party. His entire existence consisted of sleeping and screaming at his monitors. Every dime he made went straight into a joint bank account with my name on it. Unlike the toxic gamer bros online, Zane built his brand on being the ultimate romantic. He loved showing me off on stream. Whenever chat called me average or asked why he was with me, he would pull me into the frame and kiss my cheek. He would tell thousands of people, “My wife is the most perfect woman on earth. I would be nothing without her.” He wasn’t lying. He would literally be nothing without me. We met back in college. I spent my evenings studying in a dingy local gaming lounge where he worked the front desk. We were both broke kids from the boondocks, which drew us together instantly. Zane was incredibly handsome. Girls threw themselves at him constantly, but they only wanted his looks and the thrill of a bad boy. They always vanished after a few weeks. Then we got together. He told me I was the only girl who didn’t care about money, and he promised to give me the world once he made it big. During my junior year, I secretly recorded a clip of him landing an impossible sniper shot and uploaded it to social media. His ridiculous good looks combined with top tier mechanics made him go viral overnight. Once he tasted that ad revenue, the obsession began. He streamed day and night. At first, the goal was sweet. He wanted to buy a house in the city and marry me. But slowly, buried under a daily avalanche of people calling him a gaming god, he completely lost his mind. Right after graduation, he locked me away in his fortress. He proposed, handed me his bank card, and told me he owed his life to me. He said he wanted me to live like royalty. He said I never had to work a miserable office job or take orders from a boss ever again. He wanted me to be his little princess. He repeated this fairy tale on stream constantly. To his millions of followers, he was the wealthy, devoted, flawless husband. They thought I was the luckiest girl on the planet. “But what about reality?” Detective Harrison asked, his voice cutting through my memories. 4 I froze, genuinely caught off guard by the question. “Behind closed doors. Were you two really that in love?” Harrison pressed. Behind closed doors? Behind closed doors was a living nightmare. There was no princess. I was an unpaid slave. I served him like a dog. When he ate, I had to sit on the floor beside his chair in case he dropped his napkin. If he woke up thirsty at 3 AM, I had to have ice water ready before he even asked. He constantly sent me screenshots of toxic forum posts about how miserable other men’s wives were. He made his streamer friends complain on voice comms about their nagging girlfriends just so I could hear it. He brainwashed me into believing that taking care of his every bodily need was a privilege. He devolved into a monstrous infant. Sometimes, I would watch videos of exhausted women working two jobs just to feed their deadbeat husbands, and I would actually feel a sick sense of relief. I convinced myself I was lucky. Sure, Zane was lazy and demanding. But at least he wasn’t cheating on me. At least he didn’t hit me. We existed in that suffocating bubble until the afternoon I accidentally overheard his Discord call with Jason. Jason was hyping him up. “Bro, you have the cash, the fame, and you are insanely loyal. You are literally the perfect guy.” Zane snorted, a wet, ugly sound. Jason kept pushing. “Man, with all the IG models sliding into your DMs, do you really not get tempted? What exactly does Liv have that makes you so obsessed?” I heard the flick of Zane’s expensive lighter. He took a long drag. “Because she is obedient. And she is stupid.” My blood turned to ice. “What is the difference between Liv and those club girls? They all spread their legs the same way. Plus, who knows how many guys those models have been through. At least Liv is clean. Maybe those other chicks know a few more tricks, but whatever I want, Liv does it. Nurse, flight attendant, whatever messed up thing I ask for, she obeys.” Then came a dark, vulgar laugh that made my skin crawl. My face burned with a fiery shame. I felt like I had been stripped naked and thrown onto a busy intersection for strangers to laugh at. Zane kept talking. “And get this. She is incredibly dumb. I put all my stream money into that account, and she thinks I love her to death. But the PIN code? She only knows the first three digits. I changed the backend password months ago. She has zero access. Besides, the stupid bitch never leaves the house anyway. It is not like she has anywhere to spend it.” I stood in the hallway, completely paralyzed. The grand romance I had sacrificed my youth for was nothing but a cheap, calculated cage. But he was right about one thing. I never left the house. He claimed his gaming lifestyle made him out of shape, and he was terrified that if I went out, I would find a better looking guy. He weaponized his own insecurities to trap me inside. To make him feel “secure,” I was banned from buying nice clothes. I only wore the cheap, trashy lingerie he ordered online. At the same time, he demanded I stay perfectly thin. He said my weight gain would make me depressed, and he just cared about my mental health. So he bought a treadmill and forced me to run every morning while he slept. He said growing up poor made him paranoid about money, so he gave me a strict, humiliating weekly allowance for groceries and forced me to haggle over pennies at the market. Standing in the police station, I wiped a single, genuine tear from my eye. The only thing he ever calculated was how to break me. When I heard that conversation, I felt like someone had taken a baseball bat to my ribs. I couldn’t hear the rest of their chat over the deafening ringing in my ears. That was the first day I ever rebelled. At exactly three in the afternoon, the time I was supposed to serve his daily dessert, I was sitting on a dirty curb a mile away, just watching the cars go by. I realized I had spent years existing as a mindless drone. I had no thoughts of my own. My entire universe revolved around Zane’s moods. If he smiled, I smiled. If he raged, I scrambled to fix it. I felt like the tragic female lead in a bad novel who suddenly gains sentience. For the very first time, I knew with absolute certainty that I could not live like this anymore. 5 That night, I declined every single call Zane made to my phone. I went to a noisy sports bar, ate a massive plate of spicy wings, and went to a late night movie completely alone. When I finally unlocked the front door, Zane was sitting in the dark on the living room sofa. The air in the room was heavy and toxic. “Did you lose your phone or get kidnapped? Why the hell didn’t you answer me?” I glanced at him. The words I want to get a real job were right on the tip of my tongue. Before I could speak, his hand cracked across my jaw. The force sent me stumbling backward. “Are you deaf or just retarded?” he roared, his face twisting into something demonic. “I pay for your pathetic life! I keep a roof over your head! You cannot even do one simple task right. What is the point of you breathing?” Pure instinct took over. I swung back and scratched his neck. He did not expect me to fight back. His eyes widened in shock before pure rage took over. He kicked me square in the stomach, sending me crashing to the hardwood floor. He knew he had a live sponsor stream the next day and needed me to bring him drinks on camera, so he expertly avoided my face. He aimed his boots at my ribs and thighs. “You ungrateful bitch! You are nothing without me! I own you!” He only stopped when the doorbell rang. It was the pizza delivery guy. Zane froze, staring at his own trembling hands. Then he collapsed to his knees, crawling toward me with tears streaming down his face. “Liv… oh god, baby, I am so sorry. I do not know what came over me. I am a monster. Please forgive me.” He started aggressively slapping his own face. “I am garbage. Hit me, Liv. Punish me. I am so sorry.” I lay on the floor, staring blankly at the man sobbing over my bruised body. I thought about a stray dog my dad took in when I was a kid. The dog was sweet for years. Then one day, it snapped and bit my dad’s hand down to the bone. My dad didn’t hesitate. He grabbed his shotgun and put the animal down right there in the yard. I cried and asked him why he did it. My dad looked at me with cold, hard eyes. “Once a beast tastes blood, it will bite again. It is easier to just kill it and save yourself the trouble.” But Zane wasn’t a dog. If I shot him, I would spend the rest of my life in a concrete cell. That was a terrible trade. I needed a flawless plan. Something that would strip away his power, silence him forever, but keep his heart beating just long enough for me to take everything. I reached out, gently grabbing his wrists to stop him from hitting himself. I forced a wet sob out of my throat. “It is okay. I know you didn’t mean it. Just promise you will never do it again.” The very next day, he bragged to Jason on Discord that I was completely broken in. He said I didn’t even flinch anymore when he raised his hand. Of course I didn’t flinch. He was never going to get the chance to raise his hand at me again.

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1 Three years after my death, Vanguard Enterprises matriarch Eleanor Kensington appeared on a popular daytime reunion show. Her hair turned all silver and her designer outfit stayed flawless, yet red, puffy eyes made her seem out of place; she fidgeted anxiously under studio lamps. When the host asked who she sought, Eleanor wiped tear-streaked cheeks with a shaky, rough voice, saying she searched for a girl named Hazel, her son Kurt’s first love. Kurt met Hazel during his runaway, rebellious years, and the two leaned solely on one another. After Eleanor found him and pulled him home to take over the family business, Kurt knelt and pleaded to wed Hazel. Obsessed with pairing him with a wealthy socialite heir instead, Eleanor paused, overcome with emotion. As the host passed a tissue, she squeezed her eyes tight and confessed she’d faked Hazel’s prenatal paternity paperwork, tricking Kurt into thinking the baby was not his. Her lie split the lovers apart; Kurt bore lifelong resentment toward Hazel and would not pardon her still. Burdened by guilt, she hoped to locate Hazel and amend her grave mistake. Shortly after broadcast, this interview snippet blew up across all social media. Netizens raged in anger, countless sympathizing with the ruined young woman. Meanwhile, the story’s male protagonist Kurt Kensington knew nothing of the uproar. Fresh from a board meeting in a tailored fine suit, he left the firm’s high-rise to visit his privileged, well-born fiancée. … The Maybach glided smoothly through the chaotic city traffic. Inside the cabin, a soothing cello sonata played softly. Kurt leaned back into the plush leather seat, pinching the bridge of his nose to ward off the exhaustion of the week. His phone screen lit up, displaying the bright, flawless face of his fiancée, Valerie Sinclair. Valerie pouted her lips, her voice dripping with sweet, practiced affection. “Kurt, where are you? Someone else is eyeing this custom diamond necklace. You need to get here and swipe your card right now!” Kurt’s sharp, icy features softened, a completely indulgent smile touching his lips. “I am almost there. The avenue is a bit backed up. Go wait for me in the VIP lounge and have some coffee.” “I had Carter drive down to the artisanal bakery you love to get those imported macarons. You have been stressing over the wedding plans and losing weight. You need to eat.” Valerie giggled, shaking her porcelain coffee cup at the camera. “I know, I know. You treat me too well.” “Honestly, I will never understand how your ex could cheat on a man like you. But I guess I am the lucky one who got to pick up the prize she threw away.” The second those words left her mouth, the warmth vanished from Kurt’s face, replaced by a layer of impenetrable frost. He took a deep breath, his tone hardening into absolute authority. “Valerie, I have told you a dozen times. Never bring her up in front of me.” I floated just above the roof of the Maybach, looking down at the scene unfolding inside with quiet detachment. I understood why he reacted that way. That forged paternity test had not only shattered every illusion Kurt ever had about love, but it had also turned him into the ultimate laughingstock among the trust-fund elite. Carrying the humiliation of being publicly cheated on, he threw himself into corporate finance like a man possessed. He took over Vanguard Enterprises, cutting down rivals and stepping over bones to climb to his current throne. Finally, he secured a merger masquerading as a marriage with the Sinclair family. Right now, he was standing at the absolute pinnacle of his life. Naturally, he refused to let anyone remind him of the dirtiest stain on his past. Sitting in the passenger seat, Carter, his executive assistant, noticed the shift in mood. He quickly ended his own call and turned to look at Kurt with careful respect. “Mr. Kensington, your mother just appeared on a television broadcast looking for… looking for a figure from your past. The public backlash online is escalating rapidly. Should I have the PR department step in and suppress the trending tags?” “Madame Kensington represents the face of Vanguard. This kind of scandal could cause a dip in our stock prices. Judging by the comments, the public sentiment is heavily turning against you.” Kurt rolled down his window, letting the freezing city wind flood the cabin and mess up his perfectly styled hair. He scoffed coldly, reaching up to loosen his silk tie. “Ignore her. She is getting old and suddenly has a taste for cheap melodrama.” “Let her make a fool of herself. As long as it doesn’t interfere with the engagement party next week, the PR department doesn’t need to waste resources on tabloid garbage.” Kurt arrived at the luxury boutique, stepping into the top-floor VIP suite amid a flurry of flashing cameras and bowing staff. Valerie lifted the hem of her designer dress and ran over to loop her arms around his neck. “You are finally here! I thought I made you mad and you were going to stand me up.” “Never. Why would I be that petty?” Kurt wrapped a casual arm around her waist and handed a sleek black titanium card to the store manager. “Whatever she was looking at, wrap it all up.” Watching Kurt throw millions around without blinking, a dense, suffocating phantom ache spread through my chest. I used to have Kurt’s unconditional devotion, too. But that was a lifetime ago. The atmosphere inside the VIP lounge was buzzing. Several wealthy heirs from Kurt’s inner circle were lounging on the velvet sofas, supposedly there to help Valerie pick out jewelry. A guy with dyed red hair took a sip of his champagne, leaning close to Kurt with a testing smirk. “Hey man, I was just scrolling online. I saw your mom on TV looking for someone. Looked like she was talking about your first love.” “It is blowing up everywhere. The group chats are going crazy saying your mom forged some medical papers to drive her away. Is that actually true, or is she just pulling a PR stunt with the network?” The noisy room instantly went dead silent. You could hear a pin drop. Every single pair of eyes was secretly tracking Kurt’s reaction. He slammed his empty crystal glass onto the glass table. The sharp crack made everyone flinch, but his smile was entirely nonchalant. “It is fake, obviously.” “There is nothing to talk about regarding the past. She cheated on me, plain and simple.” “My mother is just trying to drum up some fake sympathy and media heat because Vanguard is preparing for a new IPO. It is just marketing.” He spoke with such breezy detachment, as if the story belonged to a complete stranger. The heirs exchanged glances, smartly taking the hint. They immediately pivoted the conversation to a yacht party happening the following weekend. After the gathering ended, Kurt declined Valerie’s invitation for a private dinner and got into his car alone. The interior of the car was suffocatingly quiet until a jarring ringtone shattered the silence. The word “Mother” flashed on the dashboard display. Kurt frowned in irritation, tapping the screen to answer on speakerphone. “Kurt, you need to come home right now!” Eleanor’s frantic, trembling voice instantly filled the cabin. “The network producers just called me… they found out where Hazel is!” Before Kurt could even speak, her voice broke into suppressed, hysterical sobs, her words spilling out in a panicked rush. “Everything that happened back then wasn’t what you thought… I have to tell you the truth. I have been praying and doing charity for years, but my conscience is eating me alive! You have to come back… you have to see her, at least once…” Kurt leaned heavily against the leather seat, his fingers tapping an impatient rhythm on his knee. “The truth?” “What truth is left to tell?” “The truth is she slept around behind my back!” “I tore my relationship with this family to pieces for her, and she was carrying another man’s bastard child!” He gritted his teeth, his eyes turning venomous. “Mom, stop wasting your breath. So what if they found her? I have zero desire to ever look at her face again. Even if she crawled here and begged on her knees, I would only feel sick to my stomach!” Hearing that, the other end of the line plunged into a deathly, heavy silence. It felt like an eternity passed. Finally, after several long seconds, Eleanor spoke in a hollow whisper. “And what if… what if she is already dead?” Kurt froze entirely, his hand hovering mid-air. I didn’t know what was going through his head right then, but I couldn’t help but wonder. Yes, Kurt. What if I am dead? Would you still hate me this much? In the long stretch of his silence, my mind involuntarily drifted back to our memories. I remembered the first time we met. I was a sophomore in college, working a grueling shift as a promoter at a dive bar. Kurt had just cut ties with his wealthy family. He was sitting on a dirty curb, completely broke, chewing on a stale piece of bread. A group of junkies noticed the luxury watch on his wrist and jumped him in an alley, beating him until his head was covered in blood. I grabbed a metal trash can from the sidewalk and hurled it at the attackers. I grabbed his hand and dragged him through the dark, winding alleys until we lost them. He leaned against a brick wall, panting heavily. Then, very gently, he pulled a crumpled, expensive handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the cold sweat off my forehead. Under the flickering orange streetlamp, our eyes met. From that night on, the untouchable, elite heir became a poor boy who only had me to rely on. To take care of me, he would run across half the city in the freezing rain when I had a fever, desperately searching for a 24-hour pharmacy, dripping with sweat and panic. On nights when the roof of our cheap apartment leaked, he would use his own body to shield me from the freezing drips, smiling down at me in the dark. “Hazel, once I save up enough money, we are going to buy a tiny house by the ocean. We will adopt a dog.” Back then, Kurt’s eyes held the entire universe. They were bright, burning, and completely sincere. The year I graduated, I found out I was pregnant. Kurt was ecstatic. He dragged me to a jewelry store to buy cheap matching silver bands, swearing he would give me and the baby a real home. But before we could even finish dreaming, Eleanor kicked down the door of our apartment with a dozen bodyguards. She was there to drag Kurt back to his empire. Kurt fiercely refused. He demanded I come with him. But by then, his family had already arranged a perfect, highly profitable marriage for him. A brutal standoff ensued. Watching Kurt get torn apart between me and his blood relatives, my heart physically ached for him. I swallowed my tears, gently trying to pry his fingers off my wrist. “Kurt, just go home. Don’t destroy your family over me…” “What the hell are you talking about!” Kurt violently gripped my hand, holding on so tight it hurt. He shielded me behind his back, staring his mother dead in the eye, and swore he would sever every single tie to the Kensington name forever if she touched me. Weighing the total loss of her heir, Eleanor finally backed down. She offered one single condition. A prenatal DNA test. She promised that as long as the child was confirmed to be a Kensington, she would nod her head and let him marry me. I was so full of hope. I thought we had finally survived the darkest storm. But the printed medical report declared the child was not his. Eleanor smiled. She slapped the paper directly into Kurt’s chest and pointed a manicured finger at my face, screaming every vile insult she knew. “You shameless little whore!” “He was ready to throw away a billionaire empire for you! Was it worth it!?” I completely broke down. I begged, I cried, I swore to the heavens he was the only man I had ever touched. But Kurt didn’t believe a single word. He crushed the forged report in his fist, his eyes shifting from sheer shock to a bottomless, hollow despair. Finally, he delivered my sentence. “Hazel, do you have any shame at all?” “You didn’t just betray me, you played me for an absolute fool!” “I must have been blind to ever look at a piece of trash like you.” He slammed the door and walked out of my life, leaving me alone in a room with Eleanor’s cruelty. Eleanor demanded I abort the baby. When I refused, she had her guards lock me in a bedroom. I waited until they weren’t looking and threw myself out of the second-story window. My leg shattered on the pavement, but I kept my arms wrapped tightly around my stomach to save my child. Dragging my broken leg, I crawled through a torrential downpour to the Kensington estate, just wanting to look him in the eye and explain. I knelt outside those massive iron gates, screaming his name until my throat bled. The butler eventually walked out with an umbrella. He looked down at me and said the young master never wanted to see my face again. On my way back, dizzy from massive blood loss, I collapsed on the side of the highway. A speeding cargo truck struck me. When I woke up in the ICU, my baby was gone. My uterus had been surgically removed due to catastrophic hemorrhaging. I permanently lost my right to be a mother. And I permanently lost Kurt. After recovering enough to walk, I took my shattered body and left that city, vanishing into a decaying rust-belt town out west. With no degree, no connections, and a ruined body, I could only take the most grueling, filthy jobs available. In my third year working the assembly line at a textile mill, the stomach pains and coughing up blood became a daily routine. The clinic gave me the paper. Terminal stomach cancer. Stage four. The moment I held that diagnosis, a bizarre sense of relief washed over me. I was just so tired. This life had been far too bitter, for far too long. Now, I was finally going to be set free. But there was one last knot in my heart I couldn’t untie. Kurt. I just wanted to see him one last time. To explain what really happened back then. I couldn’t bear the thought of the man I loved most spending the rest of his life fueled by hatred for me. So, I gathered every ounce of courage I had left and dialed his number. To my shock, he actually picked up. We agreed on a time and place to meet. But when the time came, the person who walked into the private cafe room wasn’t Kurt. It was Eleanor. She sat across from me, looking down her nose, and proceeded to list all of Kurt’s recent triumphs. She told me he held absolute power now. He controlled Vanguard, standing at the absolute peak of the pyramid, and was preparing to marry a brilliant heiress who would multiply his empire. His future was golden and flawless. Then, breaking her usual cruelty, she softened her tone. “Hazel, I know I wronged you terribly back then. But I am a mother. To secure my son’s future, I had to be ruthless.” She slid a twenty-million-dollar cashier’s check across the table. “Consider this my compensation. If you still have even a shred of love left for Kurt, don’t tell him the truth.” “Think about it. If you tell him everything, what good will it do? It will only make him despise his own mother, tear his family apart, and destroy the flawless life he has built.” I stared at that thin piece of paper, listening to her paint a picture of Kurt’s happy, perfect life. Suddenly, everything clicked. She was right. What was the point of telling him the truth? How much longer did I even have to live? But Kurt was different. If I told him, he would carry a suffocating guilt for the rest of his life. He would go to war with his mother, plunging from the brilliant, untouchable CEO back into a miserable, broken man deserving of pity. He fought so hard to climb out of the dark. I couldn’t be selfish enough to drag him back into the mud. I couldn’t do it. Our story was always meant to end here. Not long after, the door to the cafe swung open violently. Kurt walked in. He scanned the room and locked eyes with me instantly. “What exactly did you want to explain to me?” His tone was carved from ice, but I could see the microscopic flicker of anticipation in his eyes. He was desperately hoping to hear a different answer from my lips. Unfortunately, I was about to crush him. I exhaled slowly, making my choice. “Nothing, really. I just wanted to tell you that your mother’s DNA test wasn’t wrong. That child wasn’t yours. I slept with someone else.” “I only came to say I was sorry.” Hearing those words, Kurt physically locked up. His fists clenched so hard his knuckles turned bone-white. His chest heaved violently. A full minute of agonizing silence passed before he let out a harsh, self-deprecating laugh and viciously kicked a wooden chair across the room. “Hazel, and here I thought you actually had some tragic secret.” “My mother was right about you all along.” “You make me violently sick.” Accompanied by the deafening slam of the door, Kurt walked away without looking back. Staring at the empty doorway, a massive mouthful of dark blood rushed up my throat and spilled onto the table. I knew he was finally, completely done with me. This was for the best. Let him hate me. Hating a woman who betrayed him was infinitely easier than hating himself for the rest of his life.

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