Category: English

I am a princess of the Manhattan elite. After being married to the city’s newest tech billionaire for barely a year, he went bankrupt. Following our divorce, I experienced a horrifying vision of my ultimate, tragic fate. Desperate, I went to find him to demand we get back together. He just frowned, his thin lips forming a cruel, icy line: “I’m sorry, Miss Sinclair.” “The Sterling family has fallen. We are no longer worthy of a deity like you.” Standing right beside him was his childhood best friend, her smile blindingly smug. I touched my flat stomach and let out an awkward laugh: “Alright, then should I just find a new dad for the baby?” His pupils violently contracted, a massive storm surging in the depths of his eyes: “What. Did. You. Just. Say?” 01 I was wheeled into the operating room for an abortion. The freezing cold of the surgical table stimulated every single one of my senses. Suddenly— Strange, unfamiliar images flashed through my mind. In these visions, following my parents’ arrangements, I entered into a second marriage with a man who basically married into our wealth. Less than six months later, my parents died in a tragic car accident, and this new husband immediately threw me out onto the streets. Penniless and homeless, I was starving to the point where I had to dig through dumpsters for food. The stench of rot and sour decay, the sticky, filthy textures—it was a suffocating, absolute despair. Finally, a passing vagrant snatched the spoiled food right out of my hands and shoved me to the ground. Under a sky full of swirling snow, my body withered and frail, I lay completely motionless. Until I was entirely buried by the snow. The vision permanently froze on that image. Right at that moment, the harsh, surgical spotlight snapped on above me. “Hello, please relax your legs.” The nurse’s voice seemed to echo from far away. I shot up from the table like a coiled spring, my throat choking with sobs. “I’m… I’m sorry. I don’t want to do this anymore.” Walking out of the operating room, my mom immediately grabbed my arm. “Mia? Are you finished already?” “No…” I shook my head, lingering terror gripping my heart as tears rolled uncontrollably down my face. “Mom, I don’t want to go through with it.” If I got rid of this baby, I was going to die a miserable, horrific death. I needed to find Elias Sterling! I needed to remarry him! 02 I headed straight for the rundown, walk-up apartment complex the Sterling family had just moved into. The rusted, peeling metal of the main entrance door reflected my panicked, unsettled face. It seemed to overlap with that dark purple, frostbitten, shriveled face from my vision. I shuddered in sheer terror. Just then, the sound of voices and laughter drifted from nearby. I panicked and ducked into the dark space beneath the stairwell. Peeking out, I saw Elias walking in from outside with another woman. He was carrying a bag of groceries. He looked completely focused as he listened to her speak. “I’ll keep an eye on that project for you. I won’t let you treat me to this meal for nothing.” “How are your parents adjusting since the move?” “If you need anything, I can come over whenever. I actually got really good at cooking while I was living abroad these past few years. You can try my food today.” … The woman’s clear, elegant voice was laced with a light, natural laugh. And Elias, who was usually so cold and aloof, actually responded to her. I bit my lip, feeling an uncontrollable surge of suffocating frustration. The ink on our divorce papers wasn’t even dry yet, and he already had a new woman in his life. But if we didn’t remarry… I was going to lose everything and die a miserable death on the streets! Those horrific images flashed through my mind again, “swish, swish,” like a computer virus spamming pop-up windows. A string of rainbow-colored text wiggled across my vision like a caterpillar: [Uh-oh~ This is what happens when you get a divorce~] My entire body violently trembled. The fear was like a massive, suffocating black shroud pressing down on my head, making it impossible to breathe. Ugh! It was too terrifying! The instinct to survive overpowered everything else. I gritted my teeth and bolted out of the shadows. I had just opened my mouth to shout: “Eli—” CLICK! The apartment door shut. I stared at the closed door in absolute defeat. Suddenly, the door opened again!! A pair of long, straight legs stepped out. I froze in complete shock. 03 Elias stood in the hallway. His gaze, entirely devoid of warmth, landed on my face, carrying the distant annoyance of someone whose peace had been disturbed. “What are you doing here?” His tone was absolute ice. He had always possessed a cold, aloof personality and kept people at a distance. But during the nearly twelve months we were married, whenever it was just the two of us, his demeanor was always warm and gentle. This was the very first time he had ever used such a freezing, hostile tone with me. My heart involuntarily tightened, and my voice trembled: “I… I came to see you.” “I want… to rem…” “What? I can’t hear you.” “I said I want to remarry! I want to remarry you!” I gathered every ounce of courage I had, squeezed my eyes shut, and shouted it out. The lighting in the stairwell was dim. The flash of pure shock in Elias’s eyes disappeared as quickly as it came, so fast it felt like a hallucination. He didn’t say a word. The air stagnated, leaving only the drafty, suffocating silence of the hallway and the thunderous pounding of my own heart. He glanced at the half-open door behind him, then raised a hand and pulled it shut. His long legs stepped forward, descending the stairs one by one. His movements were deliberate and unhurried, carrying a silent, crushing pressure. Like a low-pressure system rapidly building before a massive hurricane. I held my breath, my fingernails digging deeply into the soft flesh of my palms. The flashing images of my tragic death were still actively stimulating my nerves. Elias stopped right in front of me, barely an arm’s length away. His gaze locked onto me again, his eyes as dark and cold as a deep abyss. “I’m sorry, Miss Sinclair.” His tone was perfectly flat, every syllable razor-sharp. He paused, devoid of any emotion, offering only a freezing, objective statement: “The Sterling family has fallen. We are no longer worthy of a deity like you.” 04 He said, no longer worthy… Those three words hit my heart like massive blocks of ice. Humiliation instantly swallowed me whole. My face burned with a searing heat. When the Sterling family filed for bankruptcy, right when Elias needed me the absolute most, I listened to my parents’ arrangements and demanded a divorce. And now, barely a week after receiving the official divorce decree, I was shamelessly showing up to beg for a “remarriage.” It was incredibly abrupt, and deeply offensive. It was entirely natural for him to assume I was just playing some sick game with him. But… “I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant. I’m here because…” I frantically tried to explain, but the words died on my lips. What was I supposed to say? Say that I foresaw the future? Say that if I left him, I would die a gruesome death? He wouldn’t just think I was playing with him; he’d think I belonged in a psychiatric ward! I was so anxious that tears welled up in my eyes. One blink, and they spilled over without warning. “Why are you crying?” His brow furrowed slightly, a hint of impatience leaking into his voice. “Isn’t a divorce exactly what you wanted?” His Adam’s apple bobbed. He seemed like he wanted to say something else, but ultimately just pressed his lips into a tight line. “We are finished.” “Go home. The princess of the Manhattan elite shouldn’t be in a place like this.” He gave a slight nod, assuming the posture of a formal farewell. Just as he turned to leave, I practically threw myself at him, wrapping my arms tightly around his waist, crying out with a trembling voice: “Don’t go!” “I… I really need you!” “Ever since we got the divorce papers, I’ve actually been thinking about you every single day. I think about what it was like when we were together. I… I realized I can’t live without you. Can we please get back together? I can’t do this without you!” Through the thin fabric of his shirt, the muscles in his waist instantly went rigid, radiating an aura of intense, suppressed power. He lowered his eyes, his gaze falling onto my hands wrapped around him. His eyes held scrutiny, probing curiosity, and a sliver of dark, turbulent emotion buried deep beneath the ice. After a moment, he raised his hands and, inch by inch, pried my fingers apart. My heart jumped into my throat. He turned his head to look back at me, his dark eyes bottomless. “On what grounds?” His thin lips barely moved. His voice was as cold as a knife plunged into freezing water, piercing with agonizing precision into the deepest, most vulnerable part of my heart. He paused, and every word was devastatingly clear as he delivered his cold-blooded interrogation: “What does marriage mean to you?” “A tool you can summon and discard at your convenience?” He didn’t speak quickly, but every word was a blade. “Or do you think that just because I, Elias Sterling, am down on my luck, I have to allow Miss Sinclair to manipulate me however she pleases?” “…” Dead silence surrounded us. I opened my mouth several times, but I couldn’t force a single sound out. He was right… On what grounds? Seeing me completely speechless, the last microscopic trace of emotion in Elias’s eyes completely vanished, leaving only a profound, abyss-like stillness and… utter exhaustion. “Nothing to say?” He curled his lip in a mocking sneer. “Then, regarding remarriage—” “Ab. So. Lutely. Not.” Four words. Ironclad. Leaving absolutely zero room for negotiation. 05 The atmosphere was frozen solid. The words hanging on the edge of my lips were completely shattered by the sheer exhaustion and disgust in his eyes. Right at that moment, a faint noise came from upstairs. That tightly closed door was pushed open a crack once again. The voices inside were a bit distant, but they filtered clearly into my eardrums: “…You’re cooking tonight yourself. What is that boy doing running out into the hallway? Let me go find him.” “It’s fine, Mrs. Sterling. I’ll go.” A clear, elegant, and gentle female voice drifted closer. I went completely rigid. It felt like all the blood had instantly drained from my body. My fingertips turned to ice. For some inexplicable reason, my heart violently clenched. I stared intently at that crack in the door, where a sliver of light spilled out. In my peripheral vision, Elias remained turned sideways, perfectly still. His cold, almost clinical, scrutinizing gaze remained heavily fixed on my face, as if he were trying to dissect something from my expression. But what was he looking at? Looking at the humiliation of my rejection? Or… something else? I subconsciously bit my dry lips, my gaze uncontrollably drifting back upstairs. The door was pushed open a bit wider, and a slender, pale hand rested on the doorframe. That female voice sounded again, carrying a hint of intimacy and inquiry: “Elias? Are you out here?” Elias finally stopped looking at me. He turned his body fully away, his jawline tight, his tone absolute: “Go back. And from now on, don’t ever come looking for me again.” Before he even finished the sentence, he had already lifted his foot to leave. But the moment his foot hit the first step, I couldn’t stop a sharp, pathetic sniffle from escaping my nose. His footsteps faltered. His tall, broad back stiffened for a fraction of a second. Then, with a look that seemed like a mix of exasperation and impatience, he turned back around. I looked up at him with pathetic, pleading eyes, meeting his gaze, and whispered timidly: “I… I don’t know how to get back…” “Where is your driver?” His brow furrowed deeply. I shook my head, my voice getting quieter and quieter: “I took the bus here by myself…” Elias turned completely around to face me. He stared at me intently, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “…Why?” His voice was dry, carrying its usual coldness, but it also seemed layered with another, entirely different emotion. I kept my head down, wringing my hands, feeling an inexplicable sense of guilt, answering like a child who had been caught doing something wrong: “I wanted to try it.” “Try what?” “Try… if we get remarried, and I don’t have a driver or a car anymore, and I can only take the bus or the subway… try to see if I can actually handle it.” I explained honestly, shooting him a quick, nervous glance. “I just… wanted to adapt ahead of time!” The air went dead silent for a second. Elias stared at me, his eyes as deep as a dark pool. Something seemed to flash rapidly across the depths of his eyes, like a pebble tossed into a deep well, sending out microscopic ripples. But in the blink of an eye, it was covered by ice again. I couldn’t read his expression. I only felt that his jaw was clenched as tight as a drawn bowstring. Tight, but still incredibly handsome. That thought made even me pause in shock. Upstairs, the light in the crack of the door shifted. That clear female voice drifted down again, tinged with confusion: “Elias? Are you not done yet?” That voice was like a kill switch. Whatever microscopic emotion I couldn’t understand in Elias’s eyes instantly froze over, leaving nothing but pure, unadulterated coldness. He pulled at the corner of his mouth, the icy curve laced with an indescribable, mocking bitterness: “You probably couldn’t even recognize half the bus routes if you tried. What are you talking about ‘adapting’?” “Stop being naive. We are no longer people who walk the same path.” “Go back. Go live the life you’re supposed to live.” With that, he didn’t spare me another glance. He turned and took long, purposeful strides up the stairs. His back was resolute. He didn’t hesitate for a single second. 06 I stood frozen in place. The door upstairs had already clicked shut. The soundproofing in this walk-up building was terrible. In the stairwell, I could still hear the muffled, indistinct sounds of their conversation from inside. The July wind was supposed to be sweltering. So why did I feel so incredibly cold? My chest felt tight and suffocating, and my nose stung painfully. He seemed… even angrier now? But I was just telling the truth… Amidst the suffocating feeling, those pop-up-like visions flashed through my mind again. But what was different this time was that I wasn’t entering a second marriage. Instead, I was heavily pregnant, being shoved down a flight of stairs by the man who was supposed to be my second husband. Bright red blood rapidly pooled beneath me. I died with my eyes wide open, as my devastated parents came running from a distance… This scene was infinitely more terrifying than freezing to death on the streets! I instinctively clutched my lower abdomen. Go back and live the life I’m “supposed” to live? No, no, no! I don’t have a life I’m supposed to live! If we don’t remarry, I’m just going to die in a variety of gruesome ways. His refusal to remarry must just mean he thinks I’m not showing enough sincerity. I have to prove it to him! If he rejects me once, I’ll go back twice. If he rejects me twice, I’ll go back four times! I’ll overwhelm him with sheer volume until it causes a qualitative change! 07 And so, I went back time and time again. Everyone in the building, and even half the neighborhood, knew that Elias Sterling’s ex-wife was begging for a remarriage. But when Elias faced me, he continued to reject me with a cold, stony expression. It was only occasionally, when I clumsily tried to help out, that his deeply furrowed brow would ease, and his gaze would linger on me for a moment. Carrying a complex, scrutinizing weight. As if I was the one who bankrupted his family, rather than the business partner who had embezzled the funds and was currently on the run. Elias’s parents still treated me with the same warmth and affection as always, but even they tried to dissuade me: “You grew up in the lap of luxury. Your parents couldn’t bear to see you suffer, and we equally can’t bear to see you come back and suffer with us!” “Look at your hands. You just peeled some garlic, and your manicured nails are already chipping.” “Mia, be a good girl. Don’t come back starting tomorrow.” I completely disagreed, smiling as I said: “But I don’t feel like I’m suffering at all! Everyone has to experience a lot of ‘firsts’ in life.” “I’m going to work hard and get better at this!” That’s what I said out loud. But the reality was, the person navigating the kitchen with expert ease was Audrey Jenkins. While I could only stand outside the kitchen, watching helplessly. There was no helping it. Lately, if I smelled even the slightest hint of cooking odors, my stomach would violently churn. Watching Elias’s mom and Audrey interact like family, a thick, indescribable wave of envy and bitterness washed over me. When no one was looking, I quietly slipped out the door. Just as I pulled the door shut, I looked up and ran right into Elias, who was just returning home. His eyes were cold, and his tone was even colder. “What’s wrong?” I shook my head in utter defeat. I couldn’t exactly tell him that I was feeling incredibly frustrated and useless, could I? He stepped up the last two stairs, stopping just inches away from me. “If you can’t handle it, just go back,” his low, raspy voice seemed to carry a hint of a sigh. I was stunned. I looked up at him, defiant. “I am not unable to handle the hardship! This doesn’t even count as hardship, okay?! I’m just…” “Just… feeling like I can’t really help with anything…” My voice trailed off, laced with a subtle, hard-to-hide despair. I couldn’t accept the fact that, compared to Audrey Jenkins, I was so incredibly useless. Audrey’s family used to be neighbors with the Sterlings. She and Elias had practically grown up together as childhood sweethearts. After high school graduation, the Jenkins family immigrated to Europe. She must have heard about the Sterling family’s bankruptcy and specifically flown back. That kind of deep, supportive loyalty in a time of crisis was infinitely better than me, the ex-wife who demanded a divorce the second he went bankrupt. “Anyway!” I paused, biting out the words with emphasis. “I’m not leaving! Unless you agree to remarry me!” Having delivered my ultimatum, I immediately looked away. Tears were pooling in my eyes, and I bit down hard on my jaw to keep them from falling. His gaze swept over my eyes, and he remained silent. After a long time, he finally spoke. “Understood.” Understood? What did he understand? The reason I couldn’t go into the kitchen wasn’t because I lacked the ability; it was because I was carrying a tiny human life in my belly, okay?! You don’t understand anything at all! 08 My morning sickness was getting progressively worse. Seeing my misery, my mom couldn’t stand it anymore and suggested I just use the pregnancy to force Elias into remarrying me. I refused. What if he was truly ruthless and didn’t even want the baby? I couldn’t risk the baby’s life. 09 Elias had been working like a maniac lately. The only time I ever saw him was when I brought him food. In his sparse, rundown office, his profile as he bent over his desk under the harsh fluorescent lights looked incredibly focused and lonely. The interplay of light and shadow highlighted his sharp, deep features, his straight nose, and his tightly pressed, thin lips. I suddenly remembered that in the past, late at night, he used to sit in his home office, focused on his documents just like this. And I would curl up in a rocking chair nearby, hugging a throw pillow, just watching him. I would watch him until I fell asleep, and when I woke up, I was always in his arms. Thinking about that, my heart gave an inexplicable, phantom flutter. The past and the present overlapped, creating the illusion that we had never actually gotten divorced. He was always so cold and distant with the outside world. I was the only one who had ever seen him lose all control. Those indescribable days and nights were seared into my bones, making me blush and my heart race just thinking about them. “What are you standing there for?” He looked up, noticing me, and stood up to walk over. As he took the insulated lunch box from me, his fingertips casually brushed against mine. He frowned. “Are you feeling sick?” “Huh? No, I’m fine…” I shook my head, totally oblivious. His cool hand rested on my burning cheek. He looked suspicious, his eyes searching. “Your face is really red.” “Uh… I’m really fine…” I looked away in embarrassment, but the heat spread from my cheeks all the way to the tips of my ears. He stared at me, his gaze growing darker and deeper, like a predator gathering its strength. That kind of surging, highly aggressive gaze was incredibly familiar. So familiar that my heart almost beat out of my chest. After a moment, his Adam’s apple bobbed, and his voice was slightly hoarse. “It’s late. You should head back.” “What about you? Are you still working?” “Yeah.” He turned to walk back to his desk, and I followed right behind him. I clasped my hands behind my back, shaking my head back and forth, and said, “Then I’m not leaving either.” “It’s too dark outside. I’m scared. I need you to walk me home.” Under the harsh spotlight, our two shadows, one tall and one short, intersected and overlapped. After a long pause, I finally heard his response: “…Suit yourself.” 10 With his tacit approval, delivering food became my excuse to linger and refuse to leave. After eating, he went back to burying himself in his work. I rested my face in my hands, staring at him for hours, inevitably becoming completely mesmerized. Beneath his thick, long eyelashes, his eyes held a glimmer of starlight. I loved seeing my own reflection in his eyes, as if I were the only person in his entire world. And those thin, warm lips. Whenever he kissed me, he always liked to start with a tentative, gentle taste. Sometimes, unable to withstand my pleading, this seemingly cold man would actually whisper a few incredibly romantic, dirty things to me. My thoughts drifted from those memories back to the present, and as if possessed, I called out his name: “Elias…” “Hmm?” “Elias,” I called again. “Yeah.” “E…li…as?” He looked up from his documents, looking at me with helpless exasperation. “What is it?” I leaned closer, asking with absolute, profound sincerity: “The way things are between us right now… isn’t it nice?” “Why won’t you just remarry me?” “If you remarry me, my family will help you. Everything will become so much easier, and…” “Mia.” He cut me off, his gaze as heavy and impenetrable as fog. “Have you ever thought about what would happen if… your family fell, too?” My heart plummeted instantly. The horrific images that had flashed before my eyes surged into my mind. “There is no such thing as a permanent safety net,” his voice was cold and hard. “Relying on yourself is the only reliable thing.” After saying that, his expression softened slightly, his tone becoming gentler, laced with a hint of apology. “I’m sorry, I can’t.” “Your safety net will always be there,” he added, his eyes carrying a heavy, unspoken weight. Looking at the absolute sincerity in his eyes, a warm current seemed to flood my heart. See? This is the Elias Sterling I married. He had always treated me with such tender warmth. His coldness was nothing but a shell he presented to the outside world. I shook my head, pretending not to care, and smiled encouragingly. “Then I’ll cheer you on! I’ll wait for you to make your comeback, and I’ll wait for you to become someone else’s safety net!” He let out a sudden, faint laugh. It was very subtle, but blindingly beautiful. “I have no intention of being anyone else’s safety net.” “You have the Sinclair family now, and in the future, you’ll have…” The rest of the sentence was incredibly soft, as light as a sigh. I didn’t catch it. When I looked up again, he was already focused back on his documents. As if the tenderness and the unfinished sentence from a moment ago were entirely a figment of my imagination. I stared at his handsome profile, entirely unable to tear my eyes away. It felt as if a voice was secretly whispering in my ear: Just looking at him like this… is actually pretty wonderful…

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A female employee from our external vendor made a massive error on a project proposal in our shared Slack channel. I planned to send her a direct message to kindly give her a heads-up. I sent her a message request, but she ignored it twice. She even changed her profile picture to a matching couple’s photo. My assistant showed me the chat logs from their private company channel. She was bragging to everyone that I was aggressively pursuing her. “I’ve dropped enough hints, but he just won’t let it go. He really needs to look in the mirror and see what a creep he is.” “I literally have a boyfriend. How can he be this desperate? It’s so gross.” “That toad probably had a breakdown last night and didn’t dare reply. He must feel so insecure now, right?” 1. Our company was working on a major project, an eighty-million-dollar deal. Although Manager Hayes was the lead, I was also in the main project Slack channel keeping an eye on things. There were over a hundred people in that channel, an absolute chaotic mess. The vendor was a young creative agency called Vanguard Creatives. A woman named Jessica from their project team dropped a file into the channel. I opened it and gave it a quick scan. The units for the material data were completely wrong. She had written “kilograms” instead of “tons.” The decimal point needed to be moved over three places. It was an easy fix. But if nobody noticed, and the procurement, construction, and cost accounting teams proceeded with those incorrect numbers downstream, it would be an absolute disaster. Vanguard generally had a good reputation and was usually quite responsible. Everyone makes a slip of the finger sometimes. I felt a bit of sympathy. I found Jessica’s profile in the project channel, clicked on it, and sent a direct message request. A day passed. My request vanished into the void. Manager Hayes was the public-facing lead for this project. I didn’t want to step on his toes or seem disrespectful to his authority. So, I hadn’t revealed my actual title in the channel. My display name was just my real name: Michael Thorne. I clicked on Jessica’s profile again and sent another message request. This time, I specifically added a note: “Work-related communication. Need to verify some data in the file.” That should be clear enough, right? Another day passed. Still nothing. I tapped on her profile again. Her profile picture had changed. Yesterday, it was a cartoon girl holding a coffee cup. Today, it had been swapped out for a matching couple’s avatar. It was a little boy and girl, wearing matching goofy striped shirts, with a giant red heart in the background. My heart skipped a beat. Could it be… Does this person think I’m messaging her on a professional app to hit on her? And she specifically rushed to change her profile picture to a couple’s photo just to mark her territory? I shook my head, throwing the thought out of my mind. No way. A normal person’s brain doesn’t work in such a bizarre way. It must be a coincidence. She just happened to change her picture. My assistant, Sam, knocked on my door and walked in. He had a weird look on his face. “Mr. Thorne…” Sam held his phone screen out to me. It was a screenshot of a Slack channel. Looking at the channel name, “#Vanguard-Watercooler,” I guessed it was a private channel set up by the vendor’s employees just to spill tea. The chat was blowing up. An ID named “Jessica (Design Dept Demon Boss),” whose avatar was the exact same matching couple’s photo, was extremely active in the chat. “LMAO, that Michael guy from the client’s side tried to message me again. This time he pretended it was for ‘work-related communication’.” “Ugh, men are so transparent. I can smell his desperation through the screen.” “I think I dropped enough hints, right? I literally put up a couple’s profile pic, and he still won’t let it go. How obsessed with me is he?” “I have a boyfriend, and he’s still acting this desperate. Total creepy, entitled male behavior!” 2. Below her message was a pile of people chiming in. “Hahaha, Jessica’s charm is irresistible!” “Seriously. He needs to take a good look in the mirror.” “A toad trying to punch way above his weight.” Sam scrolled his finger quickly down the screen. There was more. “Jessica’s boyfriend is so hot. He leaves that toad in the dust.” “Right, right?! Handsome and so sweet!” “Of course! My man just bought me the newest designer bag yesterday!” It was that “Jessica (Design Dept Demon Boss)” again. “Some people can probably only drool over my profile picture, hehe.” Sam coughed awkwardly. “Mr. Thorne, I think she really doesn’t know who you are and totally misunderstood.” I looked at the blindingly arrogant words on the screen and spoke. “Tomorrow afternoon, set up a meeting with CEO Mercer from Vanguard. Manager Hayes and I are going.” Sam nodded quickly. “Understood, Mr. Thorne. I’ll arrange it immediately.” He practically sprinted out of my office, phone in hand. I leaned back in my chair, my fingers unconsciously tapping the desk. Interesting. I’ve lived this long, and nobody has ever laughed at me for being a “toad” before. Not long after Sam left, my phone screen lit up on my desk. A notification popped up: “Jessica (Design Dept) has accepted your message request.” Now she accepts it? I looked at that matching couple’s profile picture and let out a cold laugh. I didn’t send a message. I didn’t want to say a single word to her. Talking to someone whose brain operated on such a bizarre frequency was a waste of breath. If I wasn’t careful, it would just become new material for her “harassment” claims. My phone buzzed again. It was a message from her. “Mr. Thorne, hello. First of all, thank you for your admiration.” “But I must formally state: Between us, aside from necessary project-related communication, there will be absolutely nothing else.” “Please ensure you keep your distance from me. This is not only a matter of basic respect for me as a person, but also respect for my boyfriend.” “Emotional boundaries are necessary. I hope you understand and act accordingly.” “Secondly, I am officially being promoted to Project Lead in the Design Department tomorrow.” “I love my work and will be pouring all my energy into it.” “I simply do not have the extra time or energy to deal with unnecessary personal entanglements.” “I’ve said all I need to say. I hope you have some self-respect. – Jessica.” I stared at this massive, righteous, logic-defying “declaration.” My finger hovered over the keyboard. I typed something, deleted it, typed something else, deleted it again. In the end, I didn’t reply with a single word. Reason with her? That would just be asking for a headache. I simply put my phone face down on the desk. Out of sight, out of mind. 3. The next afternoon, Manager Hayes and I arrived right on time outside the Vanguard Creatives building. The vendor’s CEO, Robert Mercer, was indeed waiting by the main lobby entrance with several of his people. As soon as the car stopped, Robert jogged over, his face plastered with an enthusiastic yet slightly nervous smile. “Ah, Mr. Thorne! Manager Hayes! Welcome, welcome! It’s an honor to have you here. You grace our humble office!” He personally opened the car door for me, his posture incredibly deferential. After exchanging a few pleasantries, Robert led us toward the elevators. “The conference room is all set up. Right this way, gentlemen.” The elevator took us straight to the fifth floor. As soon as the elevator doors opened, I could faintly hear a burst of giggling and chatting. It was a group of women’s voices coming from the large conference room at the end of the hall. Chirping away. Robert’s face changed slightly, and he quickened his pace. “These guys. I told them we had important clients coming today.” He muttered under his breath, turning back to give us an apologetic smile. “I’ll have them quiet down immediately.” We reached the conference room. The heavy frosted glass door was closed. The laughter inside was even clearer now. Completely unrestrained. “Haha, Jessica, what happened next? Did that Michael guy reply to you?” An excited female voice asked. My heart sank a little. It was Jessica’s voice next, carrying an undisguised tone of mockery. “Reply? Do you think he’d dare?” “He probably saw my message and completely broke down.” “From last night until now, not a single peep out of him.” “Tsk, I’ve seen so many guys like him. Once I called out his dirty little thoughts, he probably felt so ashamed of himself.” “What a coward!” The room erupted in laughter. “Hahaha, a coward! Jessica, that description is too perfect!” “Right, right?! He doesn’t even know his place, and he dares to hit on Jessica?” “Our Jessica is about to become a Project Lead!” “Exactly, our Jessica is so capable.” “Beautiful, capable, and her boyfriend is so handsome and spoils her so much.” “Some toad could never even compare to one of her boyfriend’s fingers!” Jessica’s voice carried a hint of smug “humility.” “Oh, stop it. My boyfriend is just okay, I guess.” “Yesterday he insisted on taking me to that Michelin-star French place that costs two grand a head. It was so overwhelming.” “I told him we could just eat anywhere, but he wouldn’t listen.” “Oh, right. He also said that once I officially get promoted to Lead, he’s taking me on a trip to Europe to celebrate.” “It’s so annoying. Who has the time? Ugh, he’s such a pain!” Robert Mercer’s face was completely black. His forehead was covered in sweat. He raised his hand to push the door open. I stopped him, signaling him to stay quiet. Manager Hayes stood next to me, his expression also looking a bit stiff. Robert looked at my ice-cold profile. His Adam’s apple bobbed. He didn’t dare breathe too loudly. 4. I gave Robert a slight nod, signaling him to go ahead. Robert looked like he had just received a royal pardon. He took a sharp breath and violently shoved open the heavy glass conference room door. BANG. The door slammed against the wall, making a massive racket. The conference room instantly went dead silent. Inside sat three or four young women, gathered around the conference table. Several half-empty iced coffees were scattered across the table. Jessica was sitting next to the head seat, legs crossed, holding a Starbucks cup. She was wearing fairly heavy makeup today and a rather form-fitting dress. The smug, animated look on her face instantly switched to a standard, sycophantic corporate fake smile the moment she saw Robert. “Mr. Mercer!” She was the first to stand up, her voice sickeningly sweet. The other women also scrambled to stand up, plastering smiles on their faces. “Hello, Mr. Mercer.” “Mr. Mercer, you’re here.” Robert’s face was livid. He glared fiercely at Jessica and the others, then stepped aside. “Mr. Thorne, Manager Hayes. Please come in, please.” He forced a smile, gesturing for us to enter. Manager Hayes and I walked in. Jessica’s gaze swept over Manager Hayes, carrying a familiar respect. Then her eyes landed on my face, and the warmth in her eyes visibly plummeted. Manager Hayes coughed, trying to ease the tension. “Mr. Mercer, this is?” I cut him off directly, looking calmly at Jessica. “Hello. I’m Michael Thorne.” I stated my name, my voice not loud. But in the excessively quiet conference room, it was exceptionally clear. The smile on Jessica’s face froze for a second. A flash of shock quickly darted across her eyes. She seemed to think the name sounded familiar. But that brief shock was quickly replaced by a much stronger sense of impatience and disdain. She looked me up and down. Her gaze was like she was evaluating a cheap, defective product. The corners of her mouth curled into a mocking sneer. “Oh?” She dragged out the syllable. “So it’s you, Mr. Michael Thorne.” “Tsk, tsk. You really don’t know when to quit, do you? Are you that desperate?” “You actually chased me all the way to my company, right behind our CEO?” “What, did I bruise your ego when I called you out last night? So you came here today to corner me?” She let out a scoff. “Was my message yesterday not clear enough? Do I really have to repeat it in front of all these people to get it through your thick skull?” “I told you to keep your distance!” “Do you not understand English?” The air was dead silent. The other women’s eyes darted back and forth between me and Jessica, filled with the excitement of watching a trainwreck. Robert’s lips were trembling. “Jessica, shut your damn mouth!” “Mr. Mercer!” Jessica suddenly raised her voice, cutting Robert off, wearing an expression of someone who had suffered the world’s greatest injustice. She pointed her finger at me, almost jabbing it into my face. “Look at him! I was trying to be nice yesterday. I gave him enough face on Slack, hoping he’d take the hint and back off.” “But what does he do? He actually follows me to the office today to harass me.” “Is there no law? Is there no justice?” “Mr. Mercer, you have to do something about this, otherwise I can’t work in peace!” Her voice carried a dramatic sob. Her acting skills were practically Oscar-worthy. 5. Robert’s face was now as white as a sheet. Cold sweat was pouring down his face. I raised my hand and gently batted away the finger that was about to poke me in the eye. “Everyone out.” I glanced at the other women. Robert immediately acted like he had received a divine command, roaring at the women who were watching the show. “Did you hear him?! Get out, immediately! Right now!” The women flinched in terror. They quickly grabbed their drinks and phones, kept their heads down, and scurried out, hugging the walls. As they passed me, their eyes were filled with undisguised disdain and schadenfreude. They definitely thought I was sending everyone away to create an opportunity to be “alone” with Jessica so I could “pursue” her. Truly incredibly stupid. Jessica stood her ground. Watching her coworkers scurry away, the fake grievance on her face vanished instantly, replaced by a smug “I knew it” expression. She even shot a look toward the door, her lips pouting high, and mouthed the words: “See? I told you this toad wouldn’t give up. I yelled at him, and he still wants to be alone with me.” Manager Hayes coughed awkwardly. “Mr. Mercer, Mr. Thorne is…” Robert let out a ragged, heavy breath. “Jessica, shut your f*cking mouth! Do you have any idea who you are talking to?!” Jessica stiffened her neck, looking completely defiant. “Mr. Mercer, how could I not know? He’s the Michael who’s been harassing me!” “I made it very clear to him last night. I told him I have a boyfriend. Even if you’re trying to play matchmaker for him, I’m not going to agree.” “Work is work, and private life is private life. Even if you are the boss, you can’t interfere in your employees’ personal matters.” She turned to look at me. “If you keep doing this, I’m going to expose your disgusting behavior right in the main project channel. Let everyone from both companies judge who’s right!” I was completely speechless. What the hell was she talking about? Her imagination was running wild. What disgusting behavior? Was it just a direct message request? Robert almost roared, cutting her off. “Are your eyes glued to the ceiling?! This is Mr. Thorne from the client’s corporate headquarters! CEO Michael Thorne!” “The biggest boss of our entire project! The eighty-million-dollar deal depends on Mr. Thorne’s approval! Who the hell do you think you are, talking to Mr. Thorne like that?” “His net worth is in the hundreds of millions. He’s the most sought-after eligible bachelor in the city. How many socialites and celebrities are lining up for him? You think he’d look at you?!” “And you dare falsely accuse Mr. Thorne of harassing you? I think you’ve lost your damn mind!” 6. Robert roared until his voice was hoarse, spit flying everywhere. He really couldn’t hold it in anymore. If he let this idiot keep talking, Vanguard Creatives would be shutting its doors tomorrow. “Mr. Thorne from the client’s corporate headquarters?” Jessica’s eyes—which just a moment ago were filled with disdain and impatience—suddenly went wide. Her pupils practically dilated in shock. She stared at me, her mouth slightly open, as if trying to confirm whether Robert was talking crazy. Manager Hayes appropriately chimed in with a low voice. “That’s right, Jessica. This is CEO Michael Thorne from the corporate group. He is responsible for the final review of this project. The project proposal was personally reviewed and vetted by Mr. Thorne.” “The project proposal?” Jessica muttered, repeating the words. Her face started turning from white to red, and then back from red to white. Beneath that shock and disbelief, did I actually catch a hint of secret delight? Her eyes flickered rapidly, and her posture seemed to unconsciously straighten a bit. That shrew-like, aggressive stance she had just a second ago instantly vanished. Her entire aura changed. Hah. I couldn’t be bothered to watch her rapidly changing expressions. I walked straight over and sat in the head seat of the conference table. Manager Hayes and Robert quickly stood on either side behind me. “Sit.” I pointed to the chair across from me. Jessica forced out what she probably thought was her most graceful, even slightly shy smile. “Mr. Thorne, it really was a misunderstanding just now. I didn’t purposely ignore your message request. I just really didn’t expect you to be so young.” “Since you are so sincere, I will definitely give you some serious consideration.” I couldn’t believe it. Even at this point, she still thought I was trying to hit on her. Was her brain broken? I didn’t listen to her nonsense at all. I simply threw the manila envelope in my hand onto the conference table. The sound wasn’t loud, but it was enough to make her jump. I pulled out a printed document from inside. It was the exact file she had uploaded to the main project channel. I flipped to the critical page and tapped my finger heavily on the glaringly incorrect unit. “Jessica. Project Lead Jessica.” My voice was ice-cold. “Is this how Vanguard Creatives works?” “The most basic material data unit possible. You wrote ‘kilograms’ instead of ‘tons’? Moving the decimal point three places?” “Do you know what this means?” “If we procured materials based on this incorrect data, how much would the cost accounting be off on an eighty-million-dollar project?” “How massive of a disaster would the construction materials be?” “The entire project’s timeline, quality, and even safety could have landmines planted in them because of this incredibly stupid mistake!” “Is this the work you ‘love’? Is this the professional competence you are ‘proud of’? Is this the level of someone who is about to become a Project Lead?” I pushed the document forward. “This is why I tried to message you. I wanted to tell you privately, to save you some face.” “But instead of appreciating that, you go full drama queen and imagine this whole theatrical plot.” “And you go around telling everyone I’m harassing you? Desperate? Creepy entitled male? A toad trying to eat swan meat?” “Jessica, tell me. What exactly is inside that head of yours?” My voice wasn’t loud, but every word was a kill shot. Robert’s face turned green listening to this. He violently slammed his hand on the table. “Jessica, you incompetent, blundering idiot! You almost killed the company! You almost ruined all of us!” “And you dare to slander Mr. Thorne? Accuse him of harassing you? Who the f*ck do you think you are! You think Mr. Thorne would look at you? I spit on that!” “Apologize! Apologize to Mr. Thorne immediately!”

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1 On the drive back from picking my daughter up from her dad’s house, she suddenly spoke up. “Mom, you’re actually pretty calculating. You dump me there as soon as break starts, and then drag me back the second school begins.” I shot her a bewildered look, not understanding why she’d say something like that. My daughter continued, “It’s just like when I was a toddler and the hardest to deal with—you bailed. Then, when I got older and easier to manage, you fought tooth and nail to take me back. You always make sure you get the best end of the deal.” When I was pregnant with her, my ex-husband, David, cheated on me. Barely a month after I gave birth, he took my daughter away from me. It was only years later, when his new wife got pregnant, that he finally allowed us to be reunited. I never imagined that, all these years, this was how she saw it. My heart turned to ice. Without a word, I spun the steering wheel around and drove her right back to her dad’s house. 2 As my car pulled up to his gated community, I saw David’s SUV pulling out. My daughter excitedly rolled down the window and yelled, “Dad! Dad!” She signaled for me to stop, then hopped out and jogged over to his car. A moment later, she came back. I watched David’s SUV drive away. His current wife and their young son were in the car with him. “What did he say?” I asked. My daughter rolled her eyes at me, her tone laced with annoyance. “Dad and Ashley are taking Liam to the community center for a class. I told him you agreed to let me keep staying with him.” “Just drop me off here. I can go in by myself.” I watched her skip away, dragging her suitcase behind her, feeling like I was in an alternate reality. When David finally returned her to me, she was already four years old. A tiny little thing, she clung to Ashley, refusing to let go. When I forced myself to pick her up and take her away, she cried so hard she could barely breathe. She kept screaming, “Mommy, Daddy, save me!” as if I were some evil kidnapper tearing her away from her real family. For the first few days, she cried herself to sleep and woke up crying. Every single second, she begged to go back to that house. Thankfully, kids are resilient. Their grief comes and goes quickly. Under my meticulous, round-the-clock care, my daughter finally started calling me “Mom.” As she grew older, she started to understand the complicated dynamics of our family. She stopped calling Ashley “Mom” and switched to “Aunt Ashley.” All these years, terrified of leaving her with any psychological trauma… I never said a single bad word about her father in front of her. I even made sure to drop her off to spend holidays with them. I never expected that in her heart, all of that was just proof of my “calculating” nature. 3 I drove back home alone. Looking at the steak and lobster I had specifically bought to celebrate her coming home, I let out a heavy sigh. Over the years, to make up for the broken home, I never skimped on her clothing, food, or housing. Knowing David had his own new family to worry about, I shouldered 100% of the financial burden of raising her. Thankfully, I had managed to build a relatively successful career for myself. I could afford to spoil my daughter. Realizing I couldn’t possibly eat all this food alone, I called my best friend, Sarah. Then, I buried myself in the kitchen, trying to use the physical labor to fend off the crushing depression in my chest. By the time Sarah arrived, I had already whipped up five dishes and a soup. Staring at the mouth-watering steak and lobster bisque on the table, Sarah clicked her tongue in amazement. “I’m telling you, Claire, with your cooking skills, Chloe is one spoiled kid.” “Why couldn’t you have been my mom? Can I be your daughter instead?” I offered a bitter smile and told her how Chloe would rather stay at David’s than come home to me. Hearing this, Sarah slammed her hand hard on the table. “That little brat! Does she really think her dad actually gives a damn about her?” Then, her eyes welled up with tears. “Claire, I’ve watched how much you’ve sacrificed for that kid all these years.” “Please don’t think this is your fault. She’s probably just hitting her rebellious teenage phase.” I let out a long, heavy sigh. Over the years, how many incredible career opportunities or great guys had I let slip through my fingers? It wasn’t that I didn’t want to grab them, but as a single mom, I had to prioritize her stability. Eight years ago, I was almost engaged to my boyfriend at the time. But when I read a line in Chloe’s diary that said, “If Mom gets remarried, I will never forgive her for the rest of my life,” I resolutely broke things off with him. When it came to Chloe, my conscience was absolutely clear. 4 After seeing Sarah out, I collapsed onto the sofa alone. I had grown so used to having my daughter around; the days without her felt incredibly lonely. I had originally thought I’d be happily bringing her home today. I never expected to have a bucket of ice water dumped over my head instead. I opened Chloe’s social media and, unsurprisingly, saw a blank grey line across her profile. She had blocked me from seeing her posts since she was 15. I couldn’t see a single thing she shared. It was as if I were some kind of terrifying monster. After thinking about it, I sent her a picture of the steak and lobster. [Hey sweetie, did Dad cook for you? What did you have for dinner tonight?] A little while later, she sent a picture back. I clicked on it. It was a pile of pizza and fried food. [Dad brought me back some leftover pizza. It was good.] Even though I could tell at a glance from the size of the takeout box that it was likely just leftovers from their dinner out. But seeing that she seemed to be in a good mood, I played along. [As long as it’s good, eat up. Mom will make it for you next time.] She didn’t reply again. Feeling melancholic, I locked my phone and got up to take out the trash. Walking through the apartment complex, I ran into an old coworker, Brenda. She had witnessed David’s affair and the messy divorce that followed firsthand. She knew all my dirty laundry inside and out. After a few minutes of small talk, she suddenly asked: “Hey, isn’t your daughter back yet?” I answered automatically, “No, she’s spending the summer at her dad’s.” “Really? I actually ran into your ex-husband and his family at Six Flags today, but I didn’t see your daughter.” Six Flags? Weren’t they taking the kid to a class at the community center? I forced a dry laugh. “Kids get older, they probably don’t want to hang out with the family as much.” Brenda nodded knowingly, her eyes filling with a deeper sense of pity. “It’s just a shame you’ve wasted so many years. If you meet someone decent, you really should put yourself out there.” Normally, I would have politely but firmly declined. But today, driven by some inexplicable impulse, I actually nodded. “Okay. If you know anyone suitable, feel free to introduce us.” 5 I didn’t expect Brenda to move so fast. The very next day, she sent me an address. “It’s a distant nephew of mine, just moved back from the States. You guys should meet.” Afraid I wouldn’t go, she quickly added: “He’s a great catch. He’s been so focused on his career all these years that he never got married. Just treat it like making a new friend.” Even though I was already regretting what I’d agreed to yesterday… Since things were already in motion, I went to the restaurant at the agreed-upon time. When I saw the silhouette of the man waiting for me, I almost didn’t process it. “Claire?” “Mark?” Looking at the surprised face of the man in front of me, I let out a surprised laugh. Years ago, because Chloe had thrown a massive fit and refused to let me marry Mark. I had initiated a harsh, clean break with him. At the time, he had desperately begged to know why, but I only apologized and refused to see him again. Later, I heard he had moved overseas, and I locked that relationship away deep in my heart. I never imagined that our reunion today would be a blind date. Was it just a massive coincidence, or was it fate? “If I had known it was you, I would have come even if I had to crawl,” he joked with a smile. I laughed along. “I can’t believe after all these years, you still aren’t married.” A shy, bashful smile spread across Mark’s face. Just like eight years ago, when our relationship was at its best. We had a wonderful dinner. Before we left, Mark looked at me and spoke with genuine sincerity. “Actually, all these years, I never forgot you. We…” “It’s not possible anymore,” I cut him off cleanly. “My daughter is taking her SATs next year. I don’t want to hold you back.” “Alright,” he shrugged with a hint of regret. “But I still wish you happiness.” 6 When I turned on the lights in my apartment, I realized my daughter was already home. “Sweetie? Why didn’t you tell Mom you were coming back?” Pleasantly surprised, I swapped my heels for slippers and moved to hug her. Chloe sat on the sofa, arms crossed, glaring at me coldly. “Where were you? Why are you back so late? Have you been drinking?” I sniffed my clothes. I didn’t smell anything. “I just had dinner with a friend and a glass of wine. What’s wrong?” “A friend?” Chloe sneered, tossing her phone onto the coffee table. “Are you sure about that ‘friend’?” On the screen was a clear photo of Mark and me having dinner together. “If a classmate hadn’t run into you and asked me why my mom was out on a date…” “I wouldn’t have even known you were still talking to this random guy.” Looking at my daughter’s mocking expression, I forced myself to be patient and explain. “Mom only found out it was Mark when I got to the restaurant. We just caught up as old friends.” “Please. You just can’t survive without a man, can you?” My daughter’s words hit me like a physical blow. I stood frozen in place. “Did you think I didn’t know about you secretly meeting up with my math teacher?” “And Mr. Davis? You guys text every single day. Isn’t that disgusting?” “You preach to me every day about not dating in high school, but your own personal life is filthier than anyone’s.” “You really think nobody knows the disgusting things you do? Having a mother like you is humiliating.” My daughter screamed at me as if she were venting a deep-seated hatred. When she finished, she grabbed her bag, slammed the door, and stormed out. Leaving me standing alone in the living room, trying to digest the vile character assassination delivered by the person I loved most in the world. 7 Chloe had always struggled with math, so I frequently communicated with her teacher, hoping to find ways to boost her grades. Since she was a sickly child, I was constantly in touch with Dr. Davis, her pediatrician, to manage her health. And Mark? Today was the first time I had seen him in 8 years, and I had no intention of seeing him again. I never, ever imagined that in my daughter’s heart, this was the kind of person I was. Selfish, calculating, promiscuous, desperate for male attention. I sat on the sofa with a bitter smile, feeling a pain in my chest that was even sharper than the day I caught David cheating. That day, he had shielded Ashley behind him and told me: “Claire, if you’re angry, take it out on me. Don’t hurt an innocent person.” They were the innocent ones. I was the villain. I don’t know how long I sat in the dark. My phone chimed. I opened it. Sarah had sent me a screenshot. [What is Ashley trying to pull? She’s really treating your daughter like her own.] I tapped on the image. It was a selfie of Ashley with her arm around Chloe. The caption read: [My poor, misunderstood girl.] Chloe’s eyes were still red from crying, but she was leaning into Ashley’s embrace. A perfect picture of mother-daughter bonding. I clicked over to Chloe’s profile. Surprisingly, I could see a new post. It was the exact same photo, but with a different caption. [Heart-to-heart with Mom.] I hadn’t been granted access to her posts in almost two years. So in this moment, I was absolutely certain she had unblocked me just so I could see this. She wanted me to see their “mother-daughter” bond. She wanted me to see her leaning on another woman. She knew perfectly well that Ashley was the woman her father cheated with, yet she still chose to call her “Mom.” Maybe only the people closest to you know exactly where to twist the knife so it hurts the most. But she wasn’t a child anymore. She needed to take responsibility for her own choices. And I was going to support her decision. This daughter… I didn’t want her anymore. 8 For the next few weeks, I poured all my energy back into my career. I proactively took on several massive, complex projects, working until my head spun every single day. Naturally, I didn’t have the time or energy to obsess over what Chloe was doing. I didn’t send five or six texts a day, desperately trying to prove my love. I imagine she was quite happy to be rid of me. During this time, Ashley only contacted me once. Her voice was still that soft, gentle purr that seemed to captivate both men and women. “Claire, when are you going to come pick Chloe up?” At the time, I was busy finalizing the final draft of a major design project. I replied with genuine confusion: “She has arms and legs. She can come back whenever she wants.” All these years, I had strictly adhered to a “no contact unless absolutely necessary” policy with David, communicating only through Ashley when needed. When it came to that cheating bastard and his mistress, my stance was always: ‘I hope you two are locked together forever.’ Ashley didn’t say much else, only trying to excuse Chloe’s behavior by saying she was in her rebellious teenage phase. She asked me to be a little more understanding if she had done anything to upset me. I almost laughed out loud. The mistress who usurped my marriage was now trying to lecture me on maternal patience. “She can do whatever she wants. You don’t need to tell me that.” To my surprise, Chloe actually did come home on her own. That day, my department had finally closed a massive deal, and as the Director, I treated my team to dinner. I drank a little too much out of sheer excitement, and one of the junior girls on my team had to drive me home. As soon as I walked through the door, I saw Chloe storming out of her bedroom, looking pissed. “You really are going wild, aren’t you? What kind of mother acts like this?” My junior, Maya, who was just about to say hello, froze in her tracks. She shot me an awkward glance, then forced a polite smile. “This must be Chloe! Director Li talks about you all the time. You’re so pretty.” Chloe glared at her and scoffed. Then she turned, slammed her bedroom door shut, and went back inside. Tipsy and exhausted, I told Maya to drive safe, and then I fell into a heavy, dreamless sleep. 9 The reason Chloe came back was that the new school year was starting. Previously, to accommodate the intense schedule of her junior year, I had meticulously planned out her schedule for the entire year, optimizing every single second. This meant I had to wake up at 4:30 AM every day to make breakfast, and drive her to school at 5:30 AM sharp. I’d rush home at 6:00 PM to cook dinner, then drive back to work at 8:00 PM. I’d sneak out of the office early at 11:30 AM just to deliver a hot lunch to her school. And the evenings were a whole new battleground… But back then, I felt incredibly fulfilled. It felt like we were fighting the battle of high school together. But now, looking at that meticulously color-coded schedule, I just felt like the old me was completely insane. I had a perfectly good life, and I chose to torture myself. I wasn’t expecting it, but on the very first day of school, Chloe was late. She barged into my bedroom, furious, screaming at me to drive her to school. “It’s 8:00 AM, do you realize that?! Morning homeroom is already over!” “Why didn’t you wake me up?! WHY!!!” I was groggily jolted awake by her screaming, her voice piercing my eardrums. “The allowance I gave you yesterday included Uber money.” “If you think the commute is too inconvenient, you can apply to live in the dorms.” “I am not obligated to drive you to school every morning. I’ll pick you up in the evenings since it’s late.” Seeing she was about to argue, I glanced at my phone. “It’s almost 8:30 now. Are you sure you want to keep throwing a tantrum here?” Chloe stormed out, slamming the door so hard the walls shook. I actually knew exactly why she had overslept. At 2:00 AM last night, I could still hear the sound of video games coming from her room. In the past, I would have gone in and scolded her, telling her to go to sleep immediately. But now, what did any of that have to do with me?

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Every Christmas since we married, Declan booked three international plane tickets. They were for him, his daughter Daisy, and his ex-wife. It was a tradition that started before I came into his life, and it continued year after year. When his phone rang with the special tone he had set for them, he answered right away. Daisy wanted to go to Switzerland this year, to the place where he and her mother once planned to marry. “She keeps asking what I would look like in a wedding dress there,” his ex said, her voice bright and amused. Declan did not hesitate. He began making arrangements for a bridal gown fitting for Daisy. His ex-wife paused, then asked, “But what about Vivian?” “Vivian understands,” Declan replied, not lowering his voice even though I was sitting beside him. “She would not be upset with a child. I promised Daisy she would be my only child. It is only a dress. Her happiness comes first.” My hand closed around the ultrasound report in my pocket. I smoothed the paper gently, then released it. All right, Declan. If your promise is to have only one child, then my child and I will help you keep that promise. 1 Declan flew back to Boston right on our wedding anniversary. The moment he walked through the door, he pulled a signature orange designer box from behind his back. But before he could even hand it to me, that familiar music box melody chimed again. He froze for a second, then answered it anyway. “I am busy right now.” On the other end of the line, his ex-wife Vanessa spoke through thick, theatrical sobs. “I know you are busy. But Daisy just got home and she has been crying hysterically for you.” Declan’s posture instantly went rigid. “Did you tell her I didn’t want her again?” He hung up the phone and looked at me, his eyes swimming with genuine guilt. He lowered his voice, adopting that soft, placating tone I knew too well. “You have been mentioning how much you love this bag. Look, I really need to check on Daisy. Vanessa cannot handle her alone…” Before I could say a word, he turned around and walked right back out the door. I was already used to it. As long as his ex-wife and daughter needed something, I would forever be second place. By ten o’clock that night, Declan still had not returned. My phone vibrated on the nightstand. Declan’s voice sounded heavy with exhaustion. “I won’t be able to come home for the next couple of days.” “Vanessa’s mother has terminal cancer. We have been keeping our divorce a secret from her so she doesn’t lose hope. I need to go back to their hometown with them and stay for a few days…” Listening to the hum of the highway tires through the receiver, a hollow laugh escaped my lips. “So your perfect family of three is already on the road, and you are only telling me now?” My chest felt incredibly tight. I pressed end before he could utter another excuse. 2 Declan returned to the city three days later. The very first thing he did was rush to his office to put out corporate fires. By the time he finally got home, the sun was setting. I was just walking through the front door myself. He reached out tentatively, trying to pull me into a hug. Even his embrace felt drained and obligatory. “Thank you for holding the fort these past few days, honey.” I shifted the heavy bags of groceries in my hands, forcing a faint smile. “I have something to tell you. But you look dead on your feet. Go get some sleep first.” Seeing that I wasn’t throwing a tantrum, his shoulders finally dropped. He slipped off his jacket and collapsed into the sofa. “Okay. Whatever my wife is cooking, I am eating every last bite.” He was fast asleep before he even finished the sentence. Playing the devoted son-in-law to a dying woman while taking care of his ex-wife and child must have been truly exhausting. I stood there in the quiet living room, gripping my medical report. I squeezed the paper several times, but in the end, I couldn’t bring myself to wake him. The next day was Saturday. I had lost all appetite for cooking, so I told Declan to take me out. Knowing he was in the wrong, he canceled a string of morning meetings, kept his phone on silent, and spent the entire car ride carefully making small talk. I picked a quiet, upscale sushi lounge. As I set the menu aside, he slid a velvet jewelry box across the table. Inside was a stunning, custom engraved gold bangle. The exact one I had liked on Instagram just yesterday. I snapped the box shut and looked up at him. He didn’t say anything. He just watched me with a soft, indulgent smile. The warm amber lighting of the restaurant softened the sharp angles of his face, making him look incredibly tender. For a fleeting second, my anger began to melt. Maybe it was time to tell him. I pulled my lips into a small smile. “So, I wanted to tell you…” Before the words fully left my mouth, Declan’s eyes darted to his phone screen lighting up on the table. The tenderness vanished, replaced by a flash of annoyance, quickly followed by deep anxiety. “Vanessa has called twenty times. I am worried something happened to Daisy. Let me just step outside and call her back, okay?” He didn’t wait for my answer. He grabbed his phone, pushed his chair back, and hurried out of the private dining room. When he returned, he wore an expression I had memorized by heart. A thin layer of guilt masking a total mental absence. I looked at him standing there, struggling to find the right excuse. I suddenly felt so incredibly tired. “Declan. If you walk out of here today, I promise you will regret it.” “Vivian.” His tone dropped, laced with clear displeasure. “Don’t do this right now. Daisy had a severe allergic reaction and is in the emergency room. Vanessa simply cannot handle this by herself.” A bitter scoff clawed its way out of my throat. “She has no friends? No family? She can’t afford to hire a private nurse?” The guilt in Declan’s eyes evaporated, replaced entirely by cold anger. “I am Daisy’s father! You…” He turned around and walked out to get his coat. He didn’t finish his sentence, but I heard it loud and clear in my head. [She isn’t your kid, so of course your heart doesn’t ache for her.] There was a hierarchy to emergencies in his life. And my matters would never, ever reach the top of his list. A few moments later, the waitress gently opened the sliding door. Seeing that I was completely alone, she pressed her lips together and asked softly, “Miss, would you like boxes for the rest of this? Are you about finished?” I looked up at her. I couldn’t tell if my vision was blurred from the steam of the green tea or the tears welling in my eyes. I gave a slow nod. “Yes. I am about finished.” 3 Later that evening, I called Declan’s number. His ex-wife answered the phone. “Her dad just fell asleep next to Daisy. I will go wake him up.” “Don’t bother. It isn’t important.” Vanessa ignored my dismissal, continuing in a sickeningly sweet tone. “Her dad is just like this. He promised Daisy she would be the only child he ever has, so he spoils her rotten.” Listening to her gloat, my fingers dug into the edge of my pregnancy report. If Daisy was his only child, then what the hell was growing inside my stomach? The very next afternoon, Vanessa showed up at my front door. When I opened it, she gave me a polite, practiced nod. But her eyes immediately darted over my shoulder, critically assessing the house. It was a beautiful two-story brick colonial we had purchased after our wedding. I had designed and decorated every single inch of it myself. Clearly, it wasn’t to her taste. But right now, the only thing I found distasteful was her uninvited presence. “Can I help you?” She pulled her gaze back and offered a thin, calculated smile. “Daisy’s dad is going to wait until her fever breaks before coming home. I came to pack a few changes of clothes for him.” I didn’t blink. I turned my head and called out to my housekeeper. “Martha. Please grab the black duffel bag from his side of the walk-in closet.” When Martha brought it down, I pushed the heavy bag toward Vanessa. “There is enough in there to last him a while.” Vanessa took the handles, eyeing Martha before looking back at me with a complicated expression. “Right.” I reached out to shut the door, but she quickly wedged her hand against the frame. She bit her lower lip, forcing out a quiet, hesitant sentence. “You know, back when we first got married, he promised to build me a little garden just like the one you have out front.” I had no idea why she was telling me this. Did she honestly think I, the woman who met Declan two full years after their divorce, would feel guilty? Martha stepped forward, her face stern. “Mrs. Wright needs to rest now.” Without another word, Martha firmly shut the door in Vanessa’s face. I let out a tired laugh. “Martha, have you been watching too many soap operas? Since when do you call me Mrs. Wright?” Martha had been working for me since before I even got married. She looked at me with deep, protective frustration. “Vivian, you are just too soft! His ex-wife comes marching up to your doorstep. Do you really not see what she is trying to do?” I offered a bitter smile. Of course I saw it. Vanessa using her daughter’s health to blur the boundaries and hint at a reconciliation wasn’t anything new. She had done it dozens of times. “The problem isn’t her.” The problem was Declan. Martha poured me a glass of warm milk. Her eyes drifted down to my flat stomach. She looked completely heartbroken. “You still haven’t told Mr. Wright?” I shook my head. “You stubborn girl.” That night, Declan finally called to ask if I was asleep. “Where are you right now?” I asked quietly. “I am at a hotel near Vanessa’s place. Work has been a nightmare lately, and every time Daisy wakes up and doesn’t see me, she starts crying. I really can’t pull myself away.” His exhausted voice was laced with a desperate need for me to yield. “I know I was in the wrong at the restaurant the other day. I am so sorry. Did you see the transfer I sent you?” I had. That afternoon, a massive sum of money had hit my bank account. It was his classic playbook for buying forgiveness. A lump formed in my throat, choking off my air. “Declan, can you please just come home? I…” He cut me off. His tone was gentle, but the underlying impatience was impossible to miss. “You have always been the understanding one. Just give me a few more days, alright? Go to sleep.” The dial tone echoed in my ear. He had chosen someone else. Again. From the day we started dating, I had been constantly forced to be “understanding.” That single word was a physical weight crushing the breath out of my lungs. To the outside world, Declan was the ultimate catch. Even as a divorced man, he was wealthy, handsome, and fiercely responsible to his child. To me, he was generous and attentive. Our life looked absolutely flawless on paper. Only I knew that beneath the beautiful facade, this marriage was riddled with bullet holes. 4 Declan finally came home at dawn, two days later. I had been working brutal overtime hours, so I took the morning off to catch up on sleep. When I opened my eyes, I found him kneeling beside the bed. One of his hands was wrapped tightly around my wrist, his forehead resting against the mattress. The moment I tried to pull my hand away, he woke up. Declan gently pressed me back down, brushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear. His voice was thick with sleep. “You’re awake? Are you feeling sick? What do you want to eat?” I didn’t want to talk to him. I just wanted to get out of bed. He let out a heavy sigh. He stayed on his knees, shifting closer to press a soft kiss to the back of my hand. His eyes were rimmed with red, though I couldn’t tell if it was from exhaustion or crying. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Martha must have lost her patience and told him herself. “I only found out recently myself. Let me up.” He quickly stood to help me sit up against the headboard, his hands lingering carefully on my shoulders. “What are you craving? Martha cooks a bit too salty, so I already hired a specialized maternity nutritionist. Martha will stay on just to keep you company. I also hired a landscaping crew so you don’t have to bend over to prune your flowers anymore. Your job is too stressful. Why don’t you quit and come work at my company?” He kept rambling, listing off arrangements. The crushing fatigue of the past few days seemed completely washed away by the news. He was genuinely happy. But every single arrangement he made was flawlessly efficient. Practiced. Because this wasn’t his first time doing this. A sharp, acidic bitterness pooled in my stomach. Sensing my dark mood, Declan stopped talking. He leaned in, trying to kiss me. When I turned my face away, he grabbed my hand tighter. He placed his other, perfectly warm palm flat against my lower abdomen. His eyes were filled with desperate sincerity. “I know I made you miserable these past few days. But I swear to you…” “I will treat this baby just as well as I treat Daisy.” There was a rare, pleading vulnerability in his gaze. “Please don’t be angry anymore, okay? It isn’t good for your body. You can punish me however you want. Anything you ask, I will do it.” I slowly pulled my hand out of his grip and looked him dead in the eye. “So, are you going to tell Vanessa and Daisy?” The light in his eyes instantly dimmed. His heavy hesitation gave me all the answers I needed. The bitterness in my heart bled into a mocking, frozen smile on my lips. “What? Is our child a dirty secret? Or do you expect me to keep being ‘understanding’?” “Understanding that you will only ever acknowledge Daisy as your child in public?” He panicked, cutting me off. “What do you mean, a secret? The entire company has known you are my wife since the day we got engaged!” I shoved his hand away. He had to grip my shoulders to force me to look at him. “Just wait until the baby is a little older. Maybe one or two years old. When Daisy actually sees her little brother or sister, she will naturally accept them.” My nails dug so hard into my palms they drew blood. I finally screamed at him. “Why the hell should they have to wait?!” Why does a child, born perfectly legally into our marriage, have to wait in the shadows for someone else’s permission to exist? Why do I, a woman who did absolutely nothing wrong, have to constantly pay the emotional tax for his failed marriage? Declan’s eyes turned cold. He tightened his grip on my shoulders, using the same commanding stare he used to subjugate board members at his company. Then, he finally said the words I knew he had been holding in his chest for years. “You knew exactly what my situation was before you married me, Vivian. I never lied to you.” 5 That screaming match ended with us sleeping in separate rooms. It marked the beginning of a suffocating, icy cold war. Between the crushing fatigue of my first trimester and my high-pressure job, I was passing out the second my head hit the pillow every night. But at midnight, the ringtone echoing from the guest room down the hall still woke me up. Even with my door shut tight and the blankets pulled over my head, Vanessa’s drunken, sobbing voice slithered through the cracks. I was used to this too. On my birthday, our anniversary, Valentine’s Day, or Thanksgiving, she always, without fail, found a reason to stage a crisis. I was just about to pull the duvet back over my head when my bedroom door slowly clicked open. Declan stepped quietly into the room, clearly checking to see if I was awake. I sat straight up and stared at him. By some sick coincidence, we were both wearing the matching silk pajamas we bought on our honeymoon. Staring at each other in the dark room, it felt unbelievably pathetic. “Vanessa drank too much again,” he said, breaking the heavy silence. He kept his eyes fixed on the floor. “Daisy is home alone with her. I need to go check on them. I will be back soon.” I looked at the heavy wool coat already draped over his arm. “You know this is going to make me angry, right?” He pressed his lips into a hard line. The days of cold war had left him looking absolutely drained, yet his attitude remained gentle but unyielding. “Don’t overthink this. Daisy is just a little kid. I will be back before you know it. You are pregnant. Just get some rest.” I walked out to the second-floor landing. I gripped the wooden railing and watched the little glass suncatcher hanging by the front door sway gently as he closed the heavy oak door behind him. We had bought that suncatcher on our very first vacation together. Under a sky full of fireworks, he had smiled at me and promised that every single day of our future would be filled with sunlight. But the sun wasn’t going to shine anymore. The next time we stood face to face, I was going to ask for a divorce. 6 Two days later, I finally saw Declan again. Inside a hospital room. And Vanessa was there too. My hospital visit wasn’t a major crisis. I had been rear-ended on my way to work. The doctor simply recommended I stay for a 48-hour observation due to the pregnancy. When Declan burst into my hospital room, the sheer, frantic terror on his face and the explosive rage he unleashed on the poor driver who hit me almost made me forget we were in the middle of a cold war. “I am so sorry.” The driver stood there, looking completely miserable. “I just zoned out for a second. I will cover all the medical bills.” “Who gives a damn about your money?!” Declan practically snarled, cutting the man off. He stared at me with agonizing relief before whipping his head back to the driver. “If anything happens to my wife or my baby, I will destroy your life.” Seeing him play the fiercely protective husband was a jarring, ironic contrast to the sight of his back walking out on me two nights ago. I let out a soft laugh and told the driver he could leave. “The doctor said I am perfectly fine. Besides… Mr. Wright is a very busy man. Who disturbed you enough to bring you all the way down here?” My sarcastic jab made the veins in the back of his hand bulge. “Your dashcam is linked to my cloud account. Vivian, can we please stop fighting?” He opened the thermos of warm soup he had brought with him, pushing it toward me with a pleading look. “You practically scared me to death today.” I was just about to answer when someone knocked on the door. The knock and the door swinging open happened almost simultaneously. It was Vanessa. She also had access to Declan’s vehicle tracking. Because Daisy was “used to her father’s car,” Vanessa borrowed his spare SUV all the time. “Phew, I tracked your car’s GPS all the way here. I had to ask four different nurses to find the right room.” Vanessa panted slightly, pushing the door shut behind her. “Vivian, are you feeling any better?” Declan frowned. He instinctively stepped in front of my bed, shielding me. “What are you doing here?” Vanessa immediately slipped into the tone of a complaining, exasperated wife. “What do you think? You weren’t answering your phone, so I had to track you down. Daisy’s parent-teacher conference is in an hour. You promised her you would go. Did you completely forget?” Realization dawned on Declan’s face. He subconsciously glanced back at me. I let out a sharp, mocking laugh. Hearing that, he pulled back his gaze and shook his head slightly at Vanessa. “You go this time.” Vanessa’s friendly smile vanished. She shot me a dirty look, and her eyes instantly filled with tears of betrayal. “Excuse me? Declan, just because you have a new baby on the way, you are completely abandoning Daisy?!” Before Declan could even open his mouth to defend himself, she steamrolled right over him, playing the fierce protector of her child. “Daisy talks about how much she loves Auntie Vivian every single day! And this is how you two repay her? By pushing her aside like garbage?!” “That is enough!” Declan’s brow furrowed deeply. “My wife was just in a car accident and is under medical observation. Can’t you handle one school meeting by yourself?” “I don’t care!” Vanessa glared at me, her voice breaking into a dramatic sob. “Daisy still doesn’t know you are having a new baby. If you don’t show up today, I am telling her the truth. It is exactly like they say. A stepmother makes a stepfather.” “Get out.” I cut her off with a voice made of pure ice. I clutched my stomach, fighting back a wave of nausea. “Get out of my room.” Vanessa froze. She clearly hadn’t expected me to drop all pretense of politeness. She immediately looked at Declan for backup. Seeing that Declan was already reaching for the nurse call button to have her removed, Vanessa’s face flushed with fury. “Fine! I am leaving. Enjoy your precious bed rest.” The door slammed shut with a deafening crack. I closed my eyes, my voice hollow. “If you want to go with her, go.” Declan grabbed my shoulders, his eyes searching my face desperately. “I will only be gone for two hours, max. If anything hurts, anything at all, you call me immediately. Okay?” He pushed the bowl of soup aside. “This is already cold. I will have them make a fresh batch. Wait for me.” The door clicked shut again. The exact second Declan’s shadow disappeared from the frosted glass window, my phone buzzed. A text message popped up on the screen. [Your appointment for the medical termination has been confirmed.] Declan. This time, no one is going to wait for you.

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1 To save me from terminal cancer, my best friend Sophie and I bound ourselves to the Twin-Destiny System. We successfully captured the hearts of the two Sinclair brothers, becoming the envy of high society. But seven years later, I was left discarded and despised by both my husband and my own son. Meanwhile, Sophie was sent to prison simply for ‘bullying’ her husband’s precious childhood sweetheart. On the day of her release, she looked at me with hollow eyes. “Take care of yourself, Diana.” Then, she sprinted directly into the chaotic traffic. In a heartbeat, a speeding freight truck crushed her delicate frame into a million pieces. … Sophie left this world without a single hesitation. The sheer weight of the agony shattered my mind. The moment I saw her body torn apart on the asphalt, my heart seized, and the world went black. When I finally opened my eyes, the man sitting beside my hospital bed was my workaholic husband. Alexander Sinclair, the untouchable CEO of the Sinclair Empire. It was the first time I had seen him in two months. He shot me a cold, emotionless glance. “You’re awake.” I ignored him entirely, ripping the IV from my arm and stumbling toward the door. In the hallway lounge, his younger brother Sebastian was gently holding a photograph of his childhood sweetheart, his adopted sister Bella. A sickeningly tender smile graced his lips. Seeing their nauseating display of affection brought Sophie’s despair-filled eyes flashing back into my mind. In that instant, every ounce of my rationality burned to ash. I charged forward like a wild animal, lunging at Sebastian and slapping him across the face with everything I had. Bella screamed, jumping to her feet. “Diana! What gives you the right to hit Sebastian?” I answered by driving my palm into her cheek, sending her tumbling onto the leather sofa. “Don’t worry, you little bitch. Your turn is next.” Bella looked up at Sebastian with tear-filled eyes. Her porcelain face was twisted into a mask of pure, pitiful grievance. She whimpered softly. “Sebastian…” Sebastian instantly stepped in front of her, glaring at me. “Diana, have you completely lost your mind? I get it. This is Sophie’s doing. That toxic woman must have poisoned your head with lies again!” That bastard. Protecting his mistress was one thing, but using this moment to trample on Sophie’s name was unforgivable. I swung at him again, landing blow after blow as I screamed, “You drove her to her death, and you still have the nerve to blame her? You murderer! Sophie’s only mistake was not dragging you two vile pieces of trash to hell with her!” Sebastian froze, his face draining of color. “What… what did you just say? Sophie is dead?” Of course. They didn’t know yet. Today was supposed to be the day she left prison, signed the divorce papers, and started a brand new life far away from the Sinclairs. But Bella had deliberately gone to the prison gates to torment her, pushing Sophie into taking that final, fatal step. Alexander grabbed my wrist from behind, his brows knitting in sharp displeasure. “Diana, stop this! Are you insane?” I twisted out of his grip and slapped him squarely across the jaw. In his shocked eyes, I saw the reflection of my own deranged, tear-streaked face. “What? I hit your precious brother, and suddenly you know how to intervene? Where were you when they were teaming up to torture my Sophie? Were you deaf, or just dead?” Alexander’s expression turned glacial. “If she hadn’t used underhanded tactics to drug Sebastian and force him into bed, he never would have looked twice at her. She calculated every step just to climb the social ladder into the Sinclair family. Now that she finally secured her spot as a Sinclair wife, why would she ever kill herself? Diana, stop letting her manipulate you.” Bella chimed in from the sofa. “He’s right. I even heard someone say they saw Sophie walking down the street earlier today. Diana, she’s playing you. You care about her so much, but she’s just using you to tear our family apart. Her intentions are malicious.” A flicker of relief passed through Sebastian’s eyes as he readily swallowed their lies. His anger returned in full force. “I never realized just how deeply manipulative Sophie truly is. Diana, you tell her this for me. If she tries to drive another wedge between us, I will divorce her for real!” Looking at the absolute hypocrisy of these three, a roaring fire consumed my chest. Yes, Sophie had taken advantage of a chaotic situation to accelerate the marriage. But she wasn’t the one who drugged him that night. She offered herself to Sebastian solely to complete the System’s mission faster, desperate to save my life. She only cared about keeping me breathing. She never gave a damn about the Sinclair fortune. But the foolish girl had accidentally fallen in love with a monster. I remembered her blushing face as she once told me, “Diana, marrying Sebastian is the best thing I’ve ever done. I’m going to give him a house full of kids and love him until our hair turns gray!” And in the end? All she got was a heartless betrayal and hair matted with her own blood on the pavement. The pain in my chest was so sharp I could barely breathe. I slapped Alexander one more time, my voice trembling with raw hatred. “If you insult Sophie one more time, I will kill you.” Before the words fully left my mouth, a small shadow launched itself at me like a cannonball, knocking me hard against the floor. It was my seven-year-old son, Oliver. He glared at me with pure venom. “Don’t you dare hit my dad! Get out! We don’t want you here!” 2 Seeing Oliver look at me with the fierce hatred of an enemy felt like a sledgehammer crushing my ribs. Truthfully, Alexander and I never had a grand, sweeping romance. From the very beginning, I knew he didn’t marry me out of love. He only used me to rebel against his controlling mother. And I willingly became his pawn just to secure the life points I needed to survive my cancer. But before we had a child, we actually shared a quiet, respectful life. There were moments of genuine warmth. I had foolishly believed we might grow old together like a normal couple. Everything changed the day Oliver was born. Alexander’s mother took my baby away from me. She claimed a woman of my background was unfit to raise a Sinclair heir. She moved Oliver into the main estate and hired an elite live-in nanny. I was only allowed to visit my own son during strictly scheduled appointments. I begged Alexander, crying until my voice broke, asking him to bring Oliver home. His family only mocked me. I thought my husband would stand up for me. Instead, he looked at me with cold incomprehension. “Do you honestly believe you can provide a better upbringing for him than my parents can?” In his eyes, his son was destined to be molded into a corporate titan, a flawless machine just like him. He never felt that a child needed a mother’s warmth. Nor did he care that a mother needed her child. That was the exact day whatever small affection I had for Alexander Sinclair was completely extinguished. Oliver’s growing coldness and disgust toward me finally erased any reason I had left to stay in this house. If it weren’t for staying close to Sophie, I would have escaped this gilded cage years ago. And now, she was gone. It was time for me to leave the Sinclairs and this house full of monsters behind. Once my mind was made up, I cut all contact with the family. I went straight to the funeral home to handle Sophie’s arrangements. Her body was too shattered to be pieced completely back together. Thankfully, this foolish girl who always loved looking pretty had managed to keep her face relatively intact. After the mortician’s careful work, she looked beautiful and peaceful once again. Hot tears spilled down my cheeks as I stood by her casket. “I’m so sorry, Sophie. If you didn’t have to keep me alive, you never would have married that bastard… Dammit… it should have been me!” That same afternoon, Sophie was moved to the incinerator. I paid the staff extra to let me stay and watch her final moments in this world. I thought I had accepted her death. But watching the roaring flames consume her, a visceral, tearing pain ripped through my soul. Thirty years of memories flashed before my eyes. I saw her smiling face. I heard her sweet, teasing voice. “You’re going to be my best friend forever, right, Diana?” In a split second, something completely snapped inside me. I stood up, stepping toward the raging fire. “I’m right here, Sophie. I’ll come with you.” I lunged toward the incinerator doors, but a strong pair of arms yanked me backward. It was an older staff member. He held me back with a desperate grip. “Don’t do it, kid! Your friend wouldn’t want you throwing your life away like this!” The shock of his voice pulled me back to reality. I raised my hand and slapped myself hard across the face. What the hell was I doing? Sophie’s murderers were still living comfortably. How could I die before making them pay? An hour later, I walked numbly through the corridors of the funeral home, clutching Sophie’s urn to my chest. Suddenly, a sickeningly familiar, melodramatic crying echoed from down the hall. I turned my head and saw Alexander, Sebastian, and Bella standing in a mourning parlor right next to Sophie’s. Bella was weeping hysterically. Sebastian had his arm wrapped tightly around her shoulders, whispering sweet comforts into her ear. So they finally believed Sophie was dead. But to bring his mistress to the funeral home? Did Sebastian want Sophie’s soul to know no peace? I stormed into the parlor, my voice trembling with rage. “Sebastian, you brought this whore here? Do you have no conscience left?” But as I stepped closer, the words died in my throat. They weren’t here for Sophie. In the center of the parlor, surrounded by lavish white flowers, was a framed photograph of a small pet turtle. Bella was cradling a tiny, custom-made urn, crying as if her world had ended. She looked like a fragile, heartbroken victim. Alexander stepped forward, his voice a low, warning growl. “Diana, what kind of psychotic episode are you having now?” His eyes dropped to the black urn pressed tightly against my chest. His brow furrowed. “Why are you here? And what… what is that in your hands?” I let out a bitter, hollow laugh. “What does it look like? Your mother’s ashes?” Alexander was stunned by the venom in my voice. Before he could snap back, Bella sniffled and looked at me with wide, innocent eyes. “Diana, why are you doing this? Don’t tell me you’re still trying to push that lie about Sophie being dead. Nobody here is going to believe you. Just leave. I don’t want strangers ruining Tommy the Turtle’s funeral.” Sebastian immediately chimed in. “She’s right. Diana, get out.” 3 A blinding rage overtook me. I surged forward, slapping the tiny urn right out of Bella’s hands. It shattered on the marble floor. “Your actual wife dies, and you don’t even bat an eye! You mock her! But a damn turtle dies, and you book a luxury parlor and mourn it like it’s your flesh and blood? Sebastian, you make me sick!” Bella let out an ear-piercing shriek. “Ah! Tommy! My Tommy! Diana, why are you so evil?!” I sneered. “I’m evil? Your turtle dying is karma! The ones who deserve to be in these urns are you two!” To my shock, Oliver charged at me, his small face flushed with anger. “You bad woman! Don’t you dare yell at my uncle and Bella! She loves her turtle like family because she has a kind heart! You have no right to be mean to her!” I ground my teeth together. “Shut your mouth, you foolish little brat! Aunt Sophie loved you! She treated you like gold! And you repay her by defending these monsters? You’re just as blind and ungrateful as the rest of this rotten family!” Bella immediately stepped in, playing the saint. “Diana, please, don’t yell at Oliver. I know you hate me. But you can’t help who you fall in love with!” She suddenly stepped closer, grabbing my forearm in a desperate, pleading grip. “I know you resent me, but please, leave us alone! The baby in my womb is innocent. Stop this… I’ll leave Sebastian. I’ll disappear forever.” Alarm bells rang in my head. I tried to yank my arm away, but before I could even apply force, Bella threw herself backward, putting on a pathetic display of being violently shoved. Sebastian’s face went white. He dove forward, catching her before she hit the floor. “Bella!” he screamed in panic. Alexander erupted. He lunged at me, his fingers digging painfully into my arm. “Don’t touch me!” I thrashed against him. Seeing me protect the urn, Alexander’s eyes narrowed in disgust. He forcefully ripped the black box from my grasp. “Even now, you’re still putting on this sick play!” My heart stopped. Before I could scream, I watched helplessly as Alexander hurled Sophie’s urn against the hard floor. The ceramic shattered. The gray ashes spilled across the polished marble. “Alexander, I’ll kill you!” I shrieked, my voice tearing my throat. I dropped to my knees, frantically trying to scoop the dust into my hands. But Oliver ran over and viciously kicked the broken pieces of the urn, scattering Sophie’s ashes even further across the room. All logic vanished. I lunged at the boy, my fingers wrapping tightly around his throat. He stared up at me, his eyes wide with genuine terror as he saw the murderous hatred on my face. Alexander grabbed my wrists, twisting them painfully until I let go. He hauled me up from the floor by my collar. His dark eyes boiled with a lethal fury. “Diana, you laid hands on your own son. You really have gone completely insane. Today, I am going to teach you a lesson you will never forget.” He dragged me forcefully out of the room and shoved me into the dark, silent parlor next door. But as he stepped inside and looked at the empty, shadowy room, he hesitated for a fraction of a second. His grip on my shoulder was bone-crushing. My arm felt like it was being ripped from the socket. Alexander looked at me like I was the most vile creature on earth, pinning me against the wall to force an apology for Bella. “This is your last warning, Diana. If you don’t apologize to Bella right now, I am filing for divorce.” A second later, Sebastian walked into the parlor, carrying a weeping Bella in his arms. He looked down at me like a god showing mercy to a peasant. “Diana, no matter what twisted games Sophie played, she is still technically my wife. If you just get on your knees and sincerely apologize to Bella…” My body shook with absolute fury. I leaned forward and sank my teeth deeply into Alexander’s wrist. He grunted in pain and released me. I darted toward the altar table at the front of the room. I grabbed the black cloth covering the center frame and ripped it away. With a scream, I threw the heavy wooden portrait directly at Sebastian’s face. “You all deserve to die! Every single one of you!” The portrait struck Sebastian hard. “You think I’m lying? Open your damn eyes and look at whose funeral this is!” Blood immediately began to trickle down Sebastian’s forehead. The portrait clattered to the floor, landing face up. Staring back at them was the beautiful, tragic face of Sophie. 4 Sebastian stood frozen, looking as if he had been struck by lightning. His trembling hands slowly reached down to pick up the photograph. “No… no, it’s impossible. How could she be dead? She was only sentenced to three months… I just wanted to teach her a lesson…” Alexander’s expression shifted into profound shock and regret. He looked at me, his mouth opening, but no words came out. Suddenly, Sebastian’s eyes snapped toward the hallway. Pure horror contorted his features. “The urn… the ashes…” I pushed past them, dropping to the floor in the hallway, painstakingly scooping the scattered gray dust back into the broken remnants of the box. Sebastian rushed over, dropping to his knees to help me. I shoved him backward with all my strength. “Get off! You have no right to touch her!” Sebastian stayed kneeling on the marble floor, tears finally spilling down his cheeks. “I’m sorry… God, I’m so sorry…” Just then, Bella clutched her stomach, her face twisting in agony. “Sebastian… my stomach hurts so much… The baby… I think something is wrong with the baby.” Sebastian froze. He looked at me, torn. But after only a second of hesitation, he stood up and lifted Bella into his arms. Look at that. Even knowing Sophie had been burned to ash, he still chose Bella. Bella sobbed against his chest, playing the understanding martyr. “Sebastian, just call an ambulance… I can go to the hospital alone. You… you should stay here with Sophie.” “No,” Sebastian said, his voice tight with worry. “Right now, you are the most important thing.” He shot me a deeply guilty look. “Diana, I’ll take her to the emergency room and come right back.” I didn’t even lift my head. My eyes remained dead and vacant as I continued sweeping the dust into my hands. But as I heard his footsteps fading down the hall, a bitter sorrow washed over me. Sophie gave everything for this man. This was the man she loved. A moment later, Alexander marched Oliver back into the hallway. He forced the boy to his knees in front of me. Oliver seemed to finally realize the gravity of what he had done. He kneeled quietly, his head bowed. I didn’t want to look at either of them. Alexander frowned, his voice stiff and awkward. “I… I didn’t know Sophie was actually… But if she hadn’t tormented Bella in the past, we wouldn’t have assumed she was lying.” I looked up at him. This man, whom time and wealth had treated so kindly, was the same man who once made my heart race. Now, he looked as repulsive as a rat crawling out of a sewer. My voice was dead calm. “Let’s get a divorce.” Alexander flinched. “Are you crazy?” I let out a dry laugh. “You’re the crazy one. What makes you think I’d stay married to you after watching you desecrate Sophie’s remains?” He gestured toward the boy on the floor. “What about Oliver? He’s your son. I thought all you ever wanted was to bring him home and raise him yourself.” I stared at Oliver with absolute disgust. “I don’t want him anymore. He’s nothing but the toxic byproduct of Sinclair genetics.” The cemetery staff finally arrived. I ignored Alexander entirely and followed them to the burial grounds. After Sophie’s plot was sealed, I stood there tracing the outline of her photograph on the cold stone. Remembering the thirty years of laughter we shared, the grief finally swallowed me whole. As I walked out of the cemetery gates, Alexander’s car pulled up. He looked exhausted. He stared at me, his brow heavily furrowed. There was a trace of pity in his eyes, but his words remained clinical. “I understand you are grieving. But Sophie chose to end her own life. You shouldn’t take your anger out on an innocent child. And you shoved Bella. She almost suffered a miscarriage. She’s in the hospital right now trying to save the pregnancy.” I looked at him with ice in my veins. “Did you rush all the way out here just to demand justice for her?” Alexander looked genuinely stung by my tone. “Do you have to speak to me like that? Do you have any idea what my mother would do to you if I hadn’t stepped in to protect you?” Of course. The entire Sinclair family adored Bella. She was the daughter of his mother’s late best friend, the adopted golden child of the estate. And now she was carrying a Sinclair heir. “Are you done?” I asked coldly. “If you’re done, get the hell out of my sight.” I walked past him. He grabbed my arm, pulling me forcefully against his chest. His eyes softened with frustration and helplessness. “Diana, please stop this tantrum. Come home. “I know losing Sophie hurts. But the living are more important than the dead. Don’t you realize I haven’t slept a wink since you left? Oliver regrets what he did. He’s been crying, asking for his mother. “Come home. We will stay by your side. We can heal from this together.” Hearing those words, I actually laughed out loud. I laughed until the tears started falling again. I shoved him away with violent force. “Alexander, what gave you the arrogant delusion that you and your son could ever compare to my Sophie? “Let me tell you the truth. I only married you to stay alive. I never loved you. I certainly don’t love your son. Everything about the Sinclair family makes me physically sick!” Alexander stared at me, completely paralyzed. “What… what did you say?” I turned away. “Go tell your pathetic brother to wait. When his precious baby is finally born, I’ll be sure to deliver a spectacular gift.”

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A few days before All Souls’ Day, I was lying in bed binge-watching a show when my roommate suddenly lost her mind and bolted for the door. Terrified that something was wrong, I scrambled after her. “Trust me. Just follow me!” I barely caught up to her in the hallway. Before I could even ask what was going on, she grabbed my wrist and dragged me all the way out of the campus. My stomach was tied in knots of confusion. We crashed at a rundown motel on the edge of town for the night. The next morning, the university’s online forum exploded. [Hall 6 Girls’ Dorm. Everyone is dead!] [Rumor has it… two girls from Room 304 snuck out last night. They might be the only survivors…] My heart slammed against my ribs. My phone slipped from my trembling fingers and clattered onto the cheap carpet. I lived in Room 304. 1 I had been entirely absorbed in my show when Sandra suddenly scrambled out of the room like a maniac. It was past eleven at night. The dorm monitors had already locked the main gates. Where the hell was she going? I couldn’t just let her go alone, so I chased her down. “Sandra, what is going on?” When she turned to me, her face was completely drained of color. I had never seen such pure, unadulterated terror in her eyes. She gripped my hand so hard her nails dug into my skin. “If you trust me, you need to leave with me right now.” “What about the others? We’re just going to leave them?” She let out a guttural whisper. “If we worry about them, we die!” My eyes went wide. The rest of my words were snatched away by the chilling night wind. Sandra practically hauled me across the campus grounds. We ran so fast my lungs burned, gasping for air as I blindly followed her off the school premises. Just as we crossed the campus boundary, I started to turn my head to look back at the iron gates. “Don’t look back!” she screamed. She kept her eyes locked dead ahead. In the dim streetlights, her profile looked as cold as stone. “From this exact second forward, no matter what you hear or what you feel, you do not look back. If you do, I will leave you behind.” The sheer intensity of her threat sent a shiver down my spine. I nodded frantically. “Okay. I won’t look.” We found a cheap, cash-only motel near the edge of town and huddled together for the night. Whatever sleepiness I had back at the dorm was entirely gone. I lay there staring at the water-stained ceiling, my mind racing. After hesitating for what felt like hours, I finally whispered into the dark. “Sandra. What happened tonight?” Why did we have to run? And why couldn’t I look back? Her voice drifted over from the other bed, thick with dread. “Harper… we are hiding from It.” My chest tightened. “Who is… It?” “It is unnamable. Unseeable. Unspeakable.” Before I could press further, Sandra cut me off. “Stop asking questions. Try to sleep. We have a lot of ground to cover tomorrow.” I opened my mouth to argue but eventually swallowed my words. A heavy, suffocating anxiety settled over me. Maybe my brain was overloaded, because the moment I finally drifted off, the nightmares began. In the dream, a grotesque, raspy voice kept whispering in my ear, urging me to return. “Go back to campus. Go back. Do not head west.” A blurred face materialized in the darkness. I stepped forward, curious, but just as the features were about to sharpen into focus, someone slapped my shoulder. I jolted awake. Sandra’s pale, exhausted face hovered over me. “Harper, get up. We need to leave. Now.” I threw on my clothes. I had nothing else to pack except my phone. “What’s wrong? Why the rush?” I asked. Sandra slung her backpack over her shoulder, not even glancing my way. “Something happened. We have to get out of Northwood immediately.” Before I could ask what happened, she was dragging me out the door, heading dead west. She rented a heavily modified motorcycle from a shady garage nearby. She revved the engine, and we tore down the highway at terrifying speeds. In just three hours, we reached the county line. She pulled over at a rundown gas station to buy some cheap snacks. Taking advantage of the break, I finally pulled out my phone and connected to the internet. The moment the university forum loaded, the blood in my veins turned to ice. [Hall 6 Girls’ Dorm. Everyone is dead!] [Rumor has it… two girls from Room 304 snuck out last night. They might be the only survivors…] I lived in Room 304. 2 I stood completely paralyzed, the screen glaring back at me. A delayed wave of sheer horror washed over my body. I couldn’t even bring myself to imagine what would have happened if I had stayed in my bed last night. I scrolled through the thread with trembling fingers. The comment section was a mess of wild theories. Serial killer, gas leak, a cult ritual… Hall 6 had six floors. Eight rooms per floor. Four girls to a room. Last night, over a hundred girls died. The sheer magnitude of the number crushed the air out of my lungs. I was drowning in a sickening mix of terror and grief. I didn’t even notice Sandra walking back until she tapped my head. “Why are you spacing out?” she frowned, looking at my frozen posture. I slowly turned the phone toward her, playing a video someone had uploaded to the forum. The footage was shaky. Hall 6 was surrounded by layers of yellow police tape. Medics and heavily armed police officers were rushing in and out, while crowds of sobbing students and staff stood on the periphery. As Sandra processed the headline and the video, her face went totally blank. It took a long time before she finally blinked. “We need to move. We have to find a place to lay low before the sun sets.” “Sandra… you knew this was going to happen, didn’t you?” I asked, my voice shaking uncontrollably. She gave a stiff nod. Her face remained a mask of chalky white. “And if I did? Could I have stopped it?” I shook my head, desperately wanting to say she was wrong. “We could have called the police. They didn’t have to die for nothing.” A bitter, broken smile touched her lips. “The police? Do you think bullets work on It? Calling them would have just dragged us down into the slaughter. Stop being naive, Harper. We are running for our lives. You have no idea what is hunting us. We couldn’t save them. We can only try to save ourselves.” My shoulders shook as the tears finally spilled over. “Why is this happening? Everything was completely normal yesterday.” She pulled me into a tight hug, gently resting her chin on my head. “We aren’t saviors, Harper. Sometimes, you have to be selfish just to survive.” For the past three years, Sandra wasn’t just my roommate; she was my absolute best friend. When she watched that video, the agony in her eyes was just as intense as mine, but she buried it under a layer of cold survival instinct. After a brief, heavy silence, she pulled back and looked me in the eye. “We have to reach Westbridge as fast as humanly possible. It’s the only place we might actually stand a chance.” “Do you trust me? Are you coming with me?” I wiped my eyes and nodded. “I trust you.” I shoved my swirling questions to the back of my mind. Just as we were about to get back on the bike, my phone started buzzing. Unknown caller. Sandra snatched it from my hand and answered it. She didn’t say a single word. She just listened to whatever was on the other end. A moment later, she ended the call. Her expression had darkened considerably. I watched her take a deep, steadying breath. “Let’s go. We can’t afford to stop anymore.” I nodded, reaching for my phone, but she pulled it away. Right in front of my eyes, she popped the SIM cards out of both our phones, snapped them in half, and hurled the devices deep into the overgrown ditch by the road. She didn’t even look at me as she explained, anticipating my panic. “Phones carry our traces. It uses them to pinpoint our location. And we’re going to have to lose a lot more than just our phones.” Her words made sense an hour later. We stopped at an independent thrift store miles away from Northwood. We bought entirely new outfits and tossed our old clothes directly into a dumpster behind a diner. Shoes, jackets, backpacks, everything was replaced. Sandra even ditched her leather wallet, stuffing the loose cash into her new pockets. I climbed back onto the motorcycle, wrapping my arms around her waist. “If we change our stuff, will It lose our scent?” I yelled over the engine. “For a little while,” she shouted back. “We broke out of Its domain. It can’t track us perfectly outside of it.” I understood what she wasn’t saying. This blind spot wouldn’t last forever. Every second It spent searching for us was precious time we had to use to cover ground. Time was bleeding away. We were locked in a literal race against death. 3 I still had no idea what this Entity actually was. But anything that could wipe out an entire dormitory in a single night and force us into a desperate cross-country run had to be something out of a nightmare. I remembered what Sandra had said. Unnamable. Unseeable. Unspeakable. My heart skipped a beat. Just as the thought crossed my mind, that disgusting, raspy voice from my dream hissed right into my ear. “Come back. Do not go west. Come back. Come back right now…” It felt like needles driving into my brain. I buried my face into the back of Sandra’s jacket, clamping my eyes shut and trying to drown out the noise. I lost track of time. It wasn’t until Sandra finally killed the engine that the whispers slowly dissolved into the wind. She grabbed her new bag and turned to me. “We’re on foot from here on out.” I looked around. We were standing on the edge of an abandoned industrial refinery. Ahead of us was a murky creek, flanked by thick, overgrown wildgrass. I didn’t argue. Any questions I had would have to wait until we were safe. I trudged behind Sandra for what felt like miles. We only stopped once to choke down some dry granola bars and gulp warm water. Thank god I used to jog every morning before classes. If I didn’t have that stamina, I would have collapsed in the dirt hours ago. The further we walked, the sparser the vegetation became. Nestled against a cluster of jagged boulders, I spotted a crude, makeshift shelter built out of dried sagebrush and woven branches. It was primitive, but it was our safe house for the night. The moment we stepped inside, the rigid tension in Sandra’s shoulders finally dropped. A thin layer of cold sweat coated her forehead. I handed her a tissue to wipe her face as I inspected the hut. There were no beds, just piles of dried straw on the dirt floor. To me, it looked like a five-star hotel. I collapsed onto the straw, chewed on a piece of stale bread, and finally asked, “Sandra, what exactly are we running from?” A shadow of pure terror flickered in her eyes at the mention of It. She took a tiny bite of her food, chewing slowly, buying time. “It’s not something bound by the laws of science or nature.” I nodded, urging her to keep going. “This shelter… the herbs used to weave these walls were brought in from Westbridge. They mask our presence. Harper, I can’t give you a scientific breakdown of what It is.” “All you need to know is that we cannot look back. We cannot actively think about It. We cannot describe It. If we do, we establish a connection. We act as a beacon.” I swallowed hard, my throat sandpaper-dry. “Then… how did It kill all those girls?” “Because It possesses a domain,” Sandra said, her voice dropping to a terrified whisper. “Once Its domain is cast, everything inside belongs to It. That’s why we had to run. Harper, inside Its domain, It is a god. Snuffing out a hundred lives is as easy as breathing.” A domain. I stared into the dark. The way she described it… It sounded like some ancient, eldritch deity. A heavy sigh broke the silence. “I don’t know who on the sixth floor summoned It. By the time I felt the shift in the air, the only thing I could do was grab you and run. Harper, It had already descended. The dorm became Its feeding ground. We are just human. We had no choice but to run. Please, stop blaming yourself.” She was trying to comfort me, knowing that the guilt of leaving the others behind was eating me alive. Her words managed to soothe the ache a little. I squeezed her hand. “I know. Thank you.” If Sandra hadn’t dragged me out of that room, I would be a corpse on a stretcher right now. But my mind kept spinning. How did Sandra know so much about It? Just as I opened my mouth to ask, a bizarre, sickeningly sweet voice echoed from right outside the woven walls. “Sandra? Harper? Come out, it’s time for class.” It was the voice of the girl who lived next door to us. Sandra’s hand turned instantly to ice. 4 We both stopped breathing. A million invisible spiders crawled up my spine. I forced down the scream building in my throat and locked eyes with Sandra. She gave me a microscopic shake of her head. Do not make a sound. The voice outside continued, upbeat and terribly normal. “Guys, seriously, why aren’t you coming out? We’re going to be late! The professor is going to dock our grades!” That girl was dead. I knew she was dead. So what the hell was standing on the other side of that door? But the voice wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was that the crude wooden door of the shelter was slowly creaking open. An unnatural, freezing wind pushed against the wood. I sat completely paralyzed as the crack widened… and widened… The door was fully open. I could almost see the silhouette of the “student” standing in the gloom. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the silhouette’s mouth stretching into a horribly wide, impossible smile. Smack! Right before I could look directly at the thing, Sandra slammed her hand against the side of my head, forcing my face down. She breathed into my ear, “Do not look up. Do not look at It.” My heart felt like it was going to explode. How did It find us so fast? Because we didn’t answer, the thing outside shifted tactics. The voice warped, melting into the whiny, playful tone of a freshman who lived below us. “Harper, can I borrow your black dress? I really, really love it.” “Harper, why are you ignoring me? I brought you cupcakes. Come out and get them.” “Harper, let’s go downtown to take photos! Just look up at me. Just look at me!” Line after line. It was wearing the voices of my dead friends like cheap Halloween masks, trying to bait me into acknowledging it. Every word It spoke only solidified the horrific reality that my friends had been slaughtered. I clamped my hands over my ears, squeezing my eyes shut. I only had one thought left in my head. I have to live. I have to survive this. The voices kept going for hours, but for some reason, the thing never crossed the threshold. It was as if an invisible barrier kept It at bay. It wasn’t until dawn, when the first slivers of morning light pierced the shelter, that the voices finally evaporated. We had stayed awake all night. When I finally spoke, my voice was cracked and raw. “It’s… gone.” Sandra lifted her head. Her exhausted eyes were fixed on the bottom frame of the doorway. Over the course of a single night, the woven herbs at the threshold had completely rotted away, turned to black ash. “The ward is broken. It’s useless now,” Sandra said, scrambling to her feet. “We have to leave. Right now.” Our safe house had lasted less than twelve hours. We moved with practiced efficiency. Within minutes, we were back on the road. We had barely covered a few miles when a massive explosion ripped through the air behind us. I instinctively threw myself into the dirt. Sandra dropped beside me, her whole body shaking violently. Through chattering teeth, she whispered, “They… they’re here too.” I looked back. The shelter we had just slept in was nothing but a crater of roaring flames and thick black smoke. Besides the Entity, there was another group hunting us? My brain scrambled to put the pieces together, but survival overrode logic. “Run!” We screamed it at the exact same time and scrambled to our feet, sprinting wildly into the brush. We broke through the tall grass and found ourselves staring at an abandoned, rusted oil pipeline cutting through the landscape. “Follow me. Stay close to the pipe,” Sandra commanded. She took the lead, and I trailed closely behind, scanning our surroundings. If we took a bus or a train from Northwood to Westbridge, it would be a two-day trip at most. On foot, through the wilderness, it would take at least a week. And that was assuming we barely slept. I tried to visualize the map in my head. If we followed this pipeline and crossed the rolling hills ahead, we would hit the Westbridge county line. While I was doing the math, an unnatural screeching wind filled my ears. Ahead of me, Sandra’s jacket whipped violently in the gale. My survival instinct flared. “Sandra, get down!” A terrifying gust of wind roared up from behind us. We flattened ourselves against the cold steel of the pipeline, feeling an immense, crushing pressure wash over our bodies.

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The day before our wedding, my fiancé entirely skipped the rehearsal. Later that night, my phone buzzed with a text from him. [Sophie is pregnant. The baby is not mine.] [But I need to get a marriage certificate with her first. Her hyper-conservative family will disown her if she has a child out of wedlock. I have to give the baby my name on paper.] [We need to postpone our wedding for three years. Do not contact me during this time.] [Figure out a way to explain this to our parents. Whatever you do, do not ruin Sophie’s reputation. Just tell them you got cold feet.] I stared at the glowing screen. My fingers moved mechanically, typing a single word. [Okay.] It was the truth, anyway. I really did not want to marry him anymore. 1 Almost immediately after his text, his childhood best friend posted an update on Instagram. It was a picture of two hands intertwined, wearing matching platinum bands, forming the shape of a heart. Inside the heart rested an ultrasound scan. Seven weeks pregnant. The caption read: [He said he would give us a home.] The comments section was flooded with mutual friends congratulating them, saying they finally made it official, promising huge wedding gifts tomorrow. Not a single person mentioned me. It was as if tomorrow’s wedding had always belonged to the two of them, and I was just a ghost who had never existed. A bitter smile touched my lips. I double-tapped the picture to like it. Then, I left a comment. [Wishing you a lifetime of happiness together.] My comment blended perfectly into the sea of blessings. It did not stand out at all. But less than a minute later, my comment was deleted. My phone rang immediately. Lucas’s voice came through the speaker, dripping with impatience and irritation. “Valerie, what is your problem? Are you trying to cause a scene?” Words completely failed me. “I am not causing a scene. I was genuinely wishing you both happiness.” But Lucas was completely deaf to my sincerity. He was entirely convinced I was out for blood. “Give me a break. Do you think I do not know your true intentions?” “Everyone knows tomorrow was supposed to be our wedding! You jumping in with that passive-aggressive comment was just a calculated move to make Sophie look like a joke!” “Apologize to her right now! She has been crying non-stop because of what you wrote!” Through the receiver, I could hear the faint, pathetic sound of a woman sobbing. “Forget it, Lucas! It is my fault for asking you to help me. I will just book an appointment tomorrow and terminate the pregnancy! So what if I can never be a mother? It is better than being branded a homewrecker!” Lucas’s tone instantly melted into something sickeningly sweet. He began coaxing her like a fragile child. “Sophie, stop it. You are not a homewrecker. Once we sign those papers tomorrow, we will be legally married. A real, recognized couple!” “Do not listen to her thoughtless garbage. If anyone dares to mock you, I will ruin them!” Sophie only wailed louder. “But what about Valerie? Her heart must be breaking! I should really just get rid of the baby so your wedding can go on…” Lucas’s voice grew even softer, laced with frantic worry. “Sophie, please. I already worked everything out with her. She just has to wait three years and she will get exactly what she wants. It is not like I am disappearing forever.” “Please stop crying. You are going to upset the baby.” “And if you ruin your beautiful eyes, how are you going to be the most gorgeous bride tomorrow?” A watery giggle finally broke through Sophie’s tears. Lucas let out a heavy sigh of relief. When he addressed me again, his tone was slightly less hostile. “Valerie, why are you staying quiet? Apologize to Sophie right now.” My nails dug into my palms. I hated myself for having the momentary weakness to comment on her post. But I had done nothing wrong. Why should I be the one to grovel? “And if I say no, Lucas?” He froze for a second before his voice spiked in disbelief. “Valerie, if you keep throwing this tantrum, things are going to get very ugly! Sophie is pregnant. Her hormones are all over the place, and you are deliberately making her cry. You are being completely unreasonable!” “Fine, if you will not apologize, you can make up for it with your actions. Call all our friends and relatives immediately and tell them you are the one who backed out!” As if terrified I would refuse, he abruptly ended the call. Seconds later, a text popped up. [Valerie, I am begging you. Stop making a scene. I am just signing a piece of paper with Sophie. It means absolutely nothing. Delaying our wedding is just my way of making sure you get the perfect, dream wedding you deserve at a more suitable time.] A suitable time. Those familiar words stung my eyes until they watered. What exactly was a suitable time? I had listened to that exact excuse for eight years. I had waited nearly three thousand days and nights for him to marry me. And my reward was watching him become another woman’s legal husband. Lucas, I am done waiting. Because we are completely unsuitable for each other. Suddenly, the message disappeared. He unsent it. A new one arrived. [I had to unsend that. It is not good for Sophie to see it. She is pregnant and overthinks things easily. Just do what I asked. I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you after these three years!] A dry laugh scraped its way up my throat. I stared at the screen for two minutes. Right on cue, he unsent that message as well. So, was he lying to me or lying to himself? If he was purely helping Sophie out of the goodness of his heart, why was he so terrified of her seeing his promises to me? If the child in her belly truly was not his, he was certainly going to extreme lengths to protect her. But what if the baby was his? 2 I shook my head, forcing the sickening thoughts away. I casually typed the word ‘Okay’ and hit send. A red exclamation mark bounced back at me. He had already blocked me to appease his new bride. Good. It did not bother me. I opened Instagram, crafted a brief post announcing the cancellation of my wedding, and hit publish. My phone immediately blew up. My notifications were a flood of shocked questions. Not wanting to drag out the drama, I stuck to Lucas’s script. I replied to a few close friends saying I simply felt it was too early to settle down. My friends flooded my inbox, calling me an absolute fool. “Valerie, Lucas is not that broke college kid who lived in a basement anymore. He is a successful tech founder now. Women are throwing themselves at him! If you cancel the wedding, you are basically wrapping your man up in a bow and handing him to someone else!” I did not reply to any of them. Because Lucas was already someone else’s man. Shortly after I posted my announcement, Sophie sent me a picture of their freshly signed marriage license via a direct message. Her tone was dripping with smug victory, disguised as gratitude. [Thank you so much for the assist, Valerie! Lucas and I were originally going to the courthouse tomorrow, but he wanted to cheer me up, so he pulled some strings and got it done tonight!] I did not dignify her with a response. I deleted the message and blocked her instantly. My phone vibrated violently. It was my mother. “Are you out of your mind?!” she screamed into the receiver. “You helped plant the tree, and now you are letting someone else eat the fruit? What are you trying to prove? When you finally decide you want to marry him, he might not even want you!” I let out a soft, hollow laugh. “What if he is the one who does not want to get married, Mom?” She paused for a second before her voice grew even more furious. “Then it means you are not doing your job right! Swallow your pride, go to him, and talk sweetly. Do not throw away eight years of your youth just to walk away with absolutely nothing!” Eight years. I had loved Lucas for eight years. He always told me a man needed to establish his empire before starting a family. But when he finally built his empire, bought the penthouse, and got the luxury cars, giving me a home was no longer his priority. It was not that I had not fought for us. Fighting was just useless. For eight years, I built his tech startup with him from the ground up. I lived in a damp basement, ate instant noodles, and swallowed my pride to tell him a million times that my only dream was to be his wife, whether we were rich or poor. I had even terminated three pregnancies for him. All because he claimed the timing was wrong and he could not bear the thought of his children living in poverty. I loved him, so no matter how much it shattered my soul, I obeyed his wishes. Just like tonight. When he said he wanted to marry his childhood friend. In that moment, alongside the agonizing heartbreak, I actually felt a profound sense of relief. Not getting married meant I no longer had to wait in the dirt for him to throw me a crumb of commitment. My mother was still rambling on about how women who knew how to act fragile got the best lives. The suffocating weight in my chest suddenly vanished. I no longer felt the need to explain my pain. “Mom, the wedding is off. I am never marrying him.” I ended the call and dialed the wedding planner to cancel everything for tomorrow. The planner went dead silent before speaking hesitantly. “Mr. Mercer already called to discuss this. But he told us to carefully store all the custom backdrops, the floral arrangements, and the personalized posters for three years. That is going to be incredibly difficult. Those materials are meant for one-time use.” Clarity hit me like a physical blow. It was not that Lucas lacked the time to notify our guests. He just did not want to deal with their questions. And he truly believed that I, much like those cheap, artificial decorations, would just sit in a dark room and wait for him for three years. “Throw it all in the dumpster,” I said coldly. “Even if it could be saved, it will all be rotten in three years.” Just like his love for me. It would rot away with time. I hung up and stared at Lucas’s mother’s contact name. My head throbbed. She absolutely despised Sophie. If she found out her son had legally married that girl, she would likely have a stroke. Taking a deep breath, I opened my banking app and wired the entire one hundred and fifty thousand dollar wedding fund she had gifted me straight back into her account. I counted to three in my head. My phone rang. “Valerie, why did the money bounce back to my account?” “Mrs. Mercer, Lucas and I are calling off the wedding for now. I am moving abroad for three years.” Even though I was technically following Lucas’s script, his highly perceptive mother instantly smelled blood. “Did Lucas do something to betray you? I am going to his apartment right now! The wedding is happening tomorrow, no matter what!” “Mrs. Mercer, the wedding really cannot happen.” But she had already hung up. Well, Lucas would just have to figure out how to handle his own mother. It was time for me to pack my bags and leave. 3 The lavishly decorated bridal suite was suffocating. Every tiny detail represented my foolish hopes for our future. Now, they were just jagged blades slicing into my chest. I did not have much to take. My clothes barely filled a single suitcase. But I had a lot to throw away. By the time I finished hauling trash bags to the chute, I realized I had missed several calls from Lucas. I did not need to be a genius to guess he was furious I had failed to pacify his mother. I dropped my keys on the entryway console. I grabbed the final item, a massive, heavy glass-framed wedding portrait, intending to haul it out the door. But the moment I swung the front door open, I collided directly into Lucas. The heavy frame slipped from my fingers and crashed onto the hardwood floor, shattering into a thousand pieces. A sharp shard of glass sliced deeply into my ankle, sending a rush of dark blood down my skin. Lucas immediately pulled the woman standing behind him into his chest, shielding her perfectly. He glared at me, his voice sharp with reprimand. “Valerie, what is wrong with you? Did you not see Sophie standing right there? What if you had hurt her?” He completely missed the blood pooling around my foot. Instead, he crouched down to meticulously brush away a microscopic speck of glass that had landed on Sophie’s designer shoe. I had no energy to watch him play the devoted husband to another woman. I gripped my suitcase handle and stepped forward. He caught sight of the luggage out of the corner of his eye. He shot up in a panic and grabbed my arm. “Valerie, where do you think you are going?” Before I could speak, his phone started ringing. I glanced at the screen. It was his mother. He answered it with an exasperated sigh. “Yes! I know! It is not canceled! I will calm her down! Just stop worrying!” He hung up and turned his demanding gaze on me. “Valerie, my mom says the wedding tomorrow has to proceed as planned.” “I refuse to upset her, so everything is back on. But I need you to be a runaway bride.” “My mother adores you. If you are the one who leaves me at the altar, she will not blame me. Then I can just tell her I married Sophie in a moment of heartbreak and spite.” My eyes widened. I stared at the man I had loved for almost a decade, completely unable to process how someone could be this utterly devoid of a soul. But then I remembered he was already Sophie’s husband. Nothing he said or did should surprise me anymore. Since I was leaving anyway, I figured I would grant him one final, pathetic favor. “Okay.” Perhaps my absolute compliance finally cleared his vision. He finally registered the shattered wedding portrait on the floor. And then he saw my blood-soaked foot. His eyes turned violently red. Panic washed over his face as he sprinted into the apartment to grab the first-aid kit. The second he was out of earshot, Sophie lifted her chin, staring at me with a triumphant, mocking smirk. “Valerie, you are truly pathetic. You know I am legally his wife, yet you still want to put on a white dress and play pretend tomorrow?” “So what if his mother hates me? No matter how much she tries to stop it, she is going to have to watch her precious son marry me!” “Tomorrow’s wedding belongs to me! Lucas is my man!” “And you? You will just be the joke of the century. The pathetic ex who got dumped at the finish line!” “Do not bother dreaming about him divorcing me in three years either. Because.” She gently rested a hand on her flat stomach, her smile turning venomous. “The baby in my belly is his flesh and blood.” I lowered my eyes to hide the sudden, violent surge of tears. So, my instincts were right. Lucas had betrayed me. And he treated me like an absolute idiot, expecting me to sit on a shelf for three years while he played house with his new family. Doing the math, Sophie’s baby was conceived on the night Lucas did not come home. It was the first time in eight years he had ever forgotten my birthday. He claimed he had a critical networking dinner. He came home the next morning, drowning in apologies. That was the morning he proposed to me. He promised me a fairy-tale wedding. I had waited eight years for that ring. Pure joy had instantly smothered all my doubts and suspicions. But that night, he forgot to lock the bathroom door while taking a shower. When I walked in to grab a towel, I saw the raw, fresh scratch marks dragging down his back. When I confronted him, he did not even blink. He calmly explained a stray cat had attacked him in an alley. He even pulled up a digital receipt showing he had gone to a clinic for a rabies shot. I forced myself to swallow the lie. But a woman’s intuition is a terrifying thing. Even as I planned our dream wedding, a cold dread sat heavily in my chest. Nothing felt real. A quiet voice in the back of my mind kept whispering that his sudden proposal was nothing more than a guilt offering. I played the ostrich. I buried my head in the sand, too terrified to seek the truth. But the lingering paranoia drove me to quietly track his movements. When I caught him claiming to meet clients while his GPS sat securely at Sophie’s apartment, I knew the end was coming. I was just waiting for him to finally put the knife in my chest. So, when he skipped the rehearsal, I did not call. When he texted me about marrying Sophie, I did not complain. “Excuse me.” I had zero desire to waste my breath on his mistress. I just wanted to leave. But just as Lucas stepped out of the bathroom with the medical kit, Sophie suddenly lunged forward, grabbed my wrist, and forcefully threw herself backward into the pile of shattered glass. 4 “Valerie, I know you hate me, but why would you push me?!” “Ah! My stomach. my baby. it hurts so much.” Sophie held up her hand, her palm sliced open and bleeding. Lucas dropped the medical box and sprinted across the room, his face a mask of absolute terror and heartbreak. “Sophie, it is okay, do not panic! I am taking you to the ER right now!” He scooped her into his arms, practically flying toward the door. Before crossing the threshold, he stopped, turning his head to shoot me a look of pure, frozen hatred. “Valerie, I never knew you could be this evil. Actually laying your hands on a pregnant woman!” “If anything happens to her baby, we are completely finished.” I watched his retreating back, my voice barely a whisper in the empty room. “We were finished a long time ago.” By the time I finished sweeping up the bloody glass, the cut on my ankle had stopped bleeding on its own. But the gaping wound in my chest was still raw and mutilated. A suffocating knot of anger burned in my throat. I pulled out my phone and dialed the other majority shareholders in our tech company. When I announced I was liquidating my entire 30 percent equity stake immediately, they were practically foaming at the mouth. I told them it was a blind auction. Highest bidder takes it all tonight. Thirty minutes later, I was sitting in a local diner, signing a legally binding transfer agreement with Marcus, our CTO. Marcus was brilliant and highly ambitious, but Lucas had always kept him on a short leash, paranoid about losing control. With my shares, Marcus would instantly become the majority shareholder of the company. I truly hoped Lucas enjoyed the little wedding gift I left for him. My phone vibrated again. It was the wedding planner. He sounded furious. “Ms. Wan, what kind of game are you two playing? First you cancel, then he calls saying the wedding is back on! But everything is already in the dumpster because you told me to throw it out! What am I supposed to do at two in the morning?!” I felt a pang of guilt for making the man’s life miserable, but this was not my circus anymore. I apologized sincerely and offered a solution. “Lucas and I are absolutely not getting married. I will not ask for a refund for the decorations. If Lucas insists on having a wedding tomorrow, tell him he has to pay a rush fee and order an entirely new setup.” “He is going to murder me!” “Do not worry. He will pay the invoice.” Because he was genuinely desperate to give Sophie a perfect day. By the time I hung up, it was 2:00 AM. I abandoned the idea of going to my mother’s house to say goodbye. I hailed a cab and checked into a hotel near the airport. The planner texted me a quick thank you, confirming that while Lucas was enraged, he had indeed wired a massive rush fee. I smiled, set an alarm, and instantly fell into a dead sleep. I had no idea my phone was being relentlessly bombarded by Lucas. I ended up blocking his number and powering down my phone to sleep in peace. Until the sound of fists hammering violently against my hotel room door woke me. “Valerie! Open the door!” Hearing Lucas’s muffled rage, I suddenly realized I had forgotten to turn off my location sharing. His voice was shaking with fury. My mind instantly flashed to Sophie’s theatrical fall into the glass. Did she actually lose the baby? Or was he here to tear me apart for selling my shares to Marcus? A second later, the heavy wooden door was practically kicked off its hinges. Lucas stormed in, his eyes bloodshot and unhinged. He grabbed my arm and violently dragged me toward the hallway. “Sophie lost the baby because of you! They had to remove her uterus to save her life! How the hell are you sleeping right now?!” I struggled against his iron grip, fighting back. “I did not push her! She threw herself backward on purpose!” Lucas shoved me brutally into the passenger seat of his car. “That was her only chance to ever be a mother! Do you really think she would murder her own child just to frame you?!” He locked the doors and drove like a maniac through the empty city streets, dragging me straight into the sterile halls of the hospital. He dragged me into Sophie’s private recovery room and forcefully shoved me to the floor beside her bed. “Apologize to Sophie! And you are going to promise to carry a child for her as compensation!” My knees slammed into the freezing hospital tiles. Pain shot up my legs. I tried to scramble to my feet, but Lucas clamped a heavy hand down on my shoulder, pinning me in place. “Are you mute? Apologize to her! Now!” I swallowed the bile rising in my throat and forced out every word clearly. “I did not touch her. If you do not believe me, go ask our neighbor for their doorbell camera footage!” The neighbor’s camera pointed directly at our open doorway. It would have captured her entire pathetic performance. But he refused to believe me. “Valerie, you disgust me! Do you realize what you took from her? The baby is gone, and her uterus is gone!” “She is being merciful enough not to press criminal charges! She only wants an apology, and you are still being a stubborn bitch?” “You destroyed her ability to be a mother. Giving her a child is the absolute bare minimum you owe her! Consider it payback for secretly selling my company out from under me tonight!” Ah. The absolute bare minimum. And here I thought the love of his life losing an organ would be his only concern. Yet, he still managed to rank his precious 30 percent equity right alongside her tragedy. It proved exactly how deeply he truly loved her. Tears of hysterical laughter pricked my eyes. I looked at the floor and whispered three words. “I am sorry.” Lucas finally released his crushing grip on my shoulder. He tossed a legal document in front of me and ordered me to sign it. He was utterly delusional. Did he seriously think my signature on a piece of paper meant I would actually become a surrogate for his mistress? But I wanted to leave this nightmare immediately. I scribbled my name without reading a single line. Lucas pulled me up by my arm, his eyes a swirling mess of conflicting emotions. “I cannot risk you ruining anything else today. You are going to have to stay put for a little while.” “And keep your mouth shut about Sophie losing the baby.” It was not until the heavy click of a deadbolt echoed through the door that I realized he had locked me inside an abandoned hospital storage closet. He had locked me in a cage so he could go marry his mistress in peace. I hammered my fists against the heavy door and screamed until my throat bled. Finally, a passing janitor heard the noise and unlocked the door. I glanced at the clock. My flight was boarding soon. I sprinted out of the hospital, jumped into a taxi, and sped toward the airport. Just as I was scanning my boarding pass, Lucas’s mother called. “Valerie, where are you? Why did Lucas just announce that you ran away from the wedding? Why is he standing at the altar with Sophie?!” Before I could even answer, the loud airport intercom echoed through my phone speaker, announcing the final boarding call for my flight. “Valerie, are you at the airport? Today is your wedding day! Where do you think you are going?” “Mrs. Mercer, today is Lucas and Sophie’s wedding. It has absolutely nothing to do with me.” Without even hanging up the phone, she turned and started screaming at Lucas, demanding to know if he had abused me. Through the line, I heard Lucas shouting back over the crowd. “Mom, Sophie is pregnant! You are finally going to have a grandson!” I expected his mother, who had been begging for a grandchild for years, to burst into joyful tears. Instead, her voice ripped through the speakers in an earth-shattering roar. “Bullshit! That girl had her uterus surgically removed when she was eight years old! What the hell is she pregnant with?!”

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To facilitate my dialysis treatments, I rented the most expensive, exclusive parking spot closest to the hospital. But my wife’s childhood friend always, on rainy days, with red-rimmed eyes, begged me to give him the spot, claiming his asthma meant he couldn’t get wet. I refused: “There’s a public parking lot nearby. It’s just a few extra steps. Why do you need to take mine?” When my wife found out, she was furious: “Can’t you be a little kinder? His asthma flared up; he nearly died on the road!” I didn’t understand: “He has a car, yet he chooses to get soaked in the rain just to take my spot. How is that my fault? Besides, it’s an exclusive spot; I paid for it, first come, first served.” My wife fell silent: “I’m sorry, I was too anxious.” For the next few months, she drove me to and from appointments, rain or shine. But on the day I suffered acute kidney failure and desperately needed emergency treatment, she drove me around for three hours, deliberately missing the crucial window for treatment. On the hospital’s large screen, she was seen embracing her childhood friend, a cold smile on her face: “Didn’t you say ‘first come, first served’? Now there are no beds available in the dialysis unit. I’d like to see how long your life has to wait in line.”

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1 My mother passed away in a sudden, tragic accident. Yet, just a day before her funeral, my wife was busy traveling back to her young assistant’s rural hometown to marry him. When I confronted her, she looked at me as if I were the one being unreasonable. “His mother is terminally ill, Arthur. Her dying wish is to see him get married. I am just helping him out. It is not like we are actually going to sleep together. Why are you acting so hysterical?” But when I called her that night, her young assistant, Noah, was the one who answered the phone. “She is already exhausted from the trip, Arthur. She is fast asleep right now. If you need something, just tell me.” I sat in the suffocating silence of my living room for a long moment before quietly ending the call. Early the next morning, my wife called. “I am going to go through with the wedding ceremony with Noah today. Just postpone your mother’s funeral for a few days.” I did not say a word. I simply hung up, buried my mother in silence, and then picked up the phone to call my lawyer. “Please draft the divorce papers.” Stella never showed up on the day of the funeral. Swallowing my grief, I handled everything alone. From carrying the casket to lowering it into the cold earth. My mother had worked tirelessly her entire life, and in death, I refused to let her suffer any more indignity. I handled every detail personally, my hands trembling but resolute. The guests offered their condolences, but my uncles were visibly furious. “Missing an event this massive? Not even showing her face? How cold-blooded can she be?” “Let us go down to her parents’ house! I want to ask them exactly how they raised such a daughter!” Their anger boiled over, and they were ready to storm her family estate. I stepped in front of them, gently shaking my head. “Do not bother. It is not worth it.” That morning, I had already seen Stella’s social media updates. She was drowning in the rustic romance of a country wedding. Why would she spare a single thought for a funeral? Her heart had checked out of our marriage a long time ago. Having her here would only poison the air. My mother’s farewell did not need the presence of someone utterly devoid of a soul. The heavy mahogany casket gradually disappeared beneath the dirt. I took the shovel from one of the gravediggers, scooped up a pile of damp earth, and let it fall gently over the wood. The only person in this world who loved me unconditionally was gone forever. When the service ended, I sent Stella a text. [The funeral is over.] The message sank like a stone in an endless ocean. No reply. Maybe she was too busy to see it. Maybe she saw it and just could not be bothered to type a response. It did not matter anymore. Because I no longer cared. After seeing off the last of the guests, I contacted a top-tier family law firm, explained my situation, and officially retained a lawyer to dissolve my marriage. The moment I stepped through my front door, my phone buzzed with a video message from Noah. The screen filled with the sights and sounds of a boisterous barn wedding. It was incredibly loud, draped in floral arrangements and rustic lights, every face in the background flushed with celebration. Noah’s voice bled through the speaker, dripping with a sickening blend of triumph and fake pity. “Oh man, it is such a shame you are not here, Arthur. Look at this. I told Stella we did not need to go all out, but she insisted. Cost an absolute fortune.” I let out a flat, hollow noise of acknowledgment and moved to hang up. But then the camera panned. There, standing in the center of the frame, was Stella. She was wearing a stunning white bridal gown, her face glowing with a sweet, radiant happiness I had not seen directed at me in years. “Look over here, babe,” Noah coaxed. Stella turned her head. When she realized he was recording a video to send to me, she did not flinch. She did not try to hide. Instead, she waved enthusiastically. “Hey honey! The country aesthetic is actually gorgeous! It is such a pity your mom passed away right now. Otherwise, you could have come down and joined the fun.” Joined the fun? The phone rattled against my shaking palm. So, in her eyes, the tragic death of the woman who gave me life was nothing more than an inconvenient schedule conflict that kept me from attending my own wife’s fake wedding. 2 Looking back, Stella and I had walked side by side for eight long years. Just last year, I had secretly counted my blessings, relieved that we had smoothly sailed past the dreaded seven-year itch. Now, reality had delivered a brutal, waking slap to the face. I could not pinpoint exactly when it started, but Stella’s patience for me had simply evaporated. The gentle, understanding woman I married was replaced by someone volatile, prone to explosive tempers and erratic moods. Sometimes, a slightly overcooked dinner was enough to make her storm out of the house. Every time we fought, I was the one who yielded. I swallowed my pride. It did not matter who was at fault or how far she crossed the line. I loved her, so I compromised. Then Noah entered the picture. Their relationship escalated with terrifying speed. Every day was a blur of lingering touches, inside jokes, and deeply inappropriate eye contact. While my mother was still alive, the neighborhood gossips made sure the whispers reached her ears. Worried, she had gently asked Stella about it. Stella had erupted into a screaming fit, shattering plates against the kitchen wall and screaming that my mother was a paranoid, toxic woman who wanted to ruin her life. My mother had only asked out of genuine concern. When I came home from work that night, I found my mother sitting alone on the sofa, her eyes red and swollen. Stella, meanwhile, did not come home at all. She ignored my calls and left my texts on read, only strutting back into the house the next morning. That was the first time I ever truly lost my temper with her. Stella looked at me like I was insane, completely bewildered as to why I was making such a big deal out of nothing. She had conveniently forgotten how my mother had treated her like her own flesh and blood from the day we exchanged our vows. Later, when my mother’s health failed and she was hospitalized, Stella never visited. Not once. At first, a blinding anger consumed me. But eventually, a numbing exhaustion took its place. We had been married for so long. I foolishly convinced myself that if we just weathered this storm, if we just survived this rough patch, the warmth would eventually return to our home. I trapped myself in a beautifully constructed delusion. I hypnotized myself with false hope. Until the flatline sounded in that sterile hospital room. Staring at my mother’s rapidly cooling body, the veil finally dropped. I realized how pathetically comical my hopes had been. Stella and I were already a rotting corpse of a marriage. There was no future. She had packed her bags the day before the funeral. I had naively assumed she was just stressed and would turn around. Instead, she called to demand I put my mother’s burial on hold. Her reason? Noah’s mother was unwell and wanted to see him bring home a bride. And that bride had to be my wife. It was sickeningly laughable. Her own mother-in-law was dead. But instead of wearing black, she was busy playing dress-up for another man. Even if she hated my mother, basic human decency dictated respect for the dead. She knew that. She just did not care. When my heart finally shattered, there was no loud explosion. Just a quiet, absolute death of everything I ever felt for her. 3 With the funeral behind me, I began packing up my mother’s belongings. There was not much. A few simple dresses, some worn knitting needles, and a handful of tarnished jewelry. When my fingers brushed against a heavy, beautifully ornate vintage gold locket, my breath caught in my throat. My mother had told me time and time again that this was my grandmother’s heirloom. It was meant to be locked around the neck of the woman who would carry our family’s love into the next generation. I sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the gold. Right then, my phone lit up with a text from Stella. [Hubby, I am going to be swamped the next few days taking wedding photos and family portraits. I will not be coming home.] I did not reply. A cynical, dry laugh scraped its way up my throat. I carefully wrapped the gold locket in velvet and placed it securely in my safe. It was my mother’s dying wish to pass this on, but I would rather melt it down than let it touch Stella’s skin. She was completely unworthy. Late that night, I saw her newest social media post. It was a professional family portrait of her, Noah, and Noah’s parents. The caption read: [A Happy Family.] In the photo, Noah’s hand was wrapped tightly around her waist. They were looking deeply into each other’s eyes, absolute adoration radiating from their smiles. I had almost forgotten that Stella could look so soft, so tender. Or perhaps, she had always been tender. She just reserved it exclusively for the people she actually loved. Two days later, she finally called. She ordered me to pick her up from the central train station. I was mildly confused at first. She had driven her own luxury SUV down to the country. Why was she taking the train back? The moment I pulled up to the arrivals curb, everything made sense. Standing there with Stella and Noah was a massive flock of elderly, loud, and visibly demanding country relatives. They were blocking the sidewalk, pointing at the city skyline and shouting over each other. Stella caught my eye and sighed, gesturing to the crowd. “Noah’s mom and his extended family wanted to see the city. You need to help entertain them.” She did not need to spell it out. The raw, unfiltered greed sparkling in their eyes was a mirror image of the look Noah wore every day. I kept my mouth shut, my face a mask of absolute indifference. Noah swaggered over, the smugness practically leaking from his pores. “Sorry for the trouble, Arthur. Really appreciate you making the trip out here.” He flashed a bright, perfectly practiced smile. “I kept telling my beautiful bride that we could just hail a few cabs, but she insisted you had to come. Makes me feel kind of bad, honestly.” He held out a hand. I stared at it, then up at his face, without moving a single muscle. Noah let his hand fall, a flush of embarrassment creeping up his neck. Stella immediately stepped forward, her voice sharp and dripping with venom. “Are you blind? Or did you just leave whatever manners you had in the gutter today?” Before I could even form a response, Noah’s mother pushed her way to the front. She was a hawkish older woman with calculating eyes, gripping Stella’s arm tightly. “Oh dear, why is there only one car, Stella? We have half the village here. How are we all supposed to squeeze into that?” “Let me call a luxury transport service,” Stella said, reaching for her phone. Noah’s mom snatched her wrist. “Nonsense! Why should you spend your money? Just have your driver here take the bus home. He can leave the car, and the three of us will take it back to your place.” Stella hesitated, looking at me. There was a flicker of something in her eyes. A request for permission. I felt absolutely nothing. I pulled the car keys from my pocket and tossed them directly into Noah’s chest. “Sure. Fine by me.” Stella let out a heavy breath of relief, lifting her chin at me dismissively. “Then hurry up and figure out their hotel arrangements. Do not keep my relatives waiting in the wind.” With that, the three of them piled into my car and sped off into the city traffic. Before the windows rolled up, I caught the undisguised gloating in the eyes of Noah and his mother. They thought they had put me in my place. They thought they had won. They had no idea that the game was already over, and I had already left the table. 4 By the time I managed to wrangle the herd of loud, demanding relatives into the hotel lobby, Stella was waiting by the elevators. The moment she saw me, she hurried over. “Listen, Noah and his mom said they want to attend your mother’s funeral to pay their respects. They are upstairs changing right now. Wait in the lobby. Once they are dressed, drive us over.” “Absolutely not.” The refusal left my lips before she even finished her sentence. “My mother valued her peace. Besides, these people are strangers. They have no business being there.” Stella’s face instantly twisted in annoyance. “But I already promised them! They were just praising how kind-hearted I am.” “And anyway, they traveled all this way. It is the thought that counts. What is the harm in letting them take one look?” The thought? A cold smirk played on my lips. Crocodile tears from a pack of vultures. I would rather the graveyard be completely empty than tainted by their presence. I was about to shut her down completely when the elevator doors chimed open. Noah and his mother stepped into the lobby. Noah was dressed decently enough, wearing a tailored black suit with a white rose pinned to his lapel. But when my eyes landed on his mother, the blood in my veins turned to ice. She was wearing a blindingly bright, sequined neon pink dress. She looked like a walking disco ball meant for a bachelorette party. Was she going to a funeral, or was she deliberately trying to spit on my mother’s grave? “You are wearing that to a funeral?” My voice was lethal, dropping the temperature in the room. Noah’s mother did not look embarrassed in the slightest. She rolled her eyes at me, muttered the word “hillbilly” under her breath, and waved Stella over. “Stella, honey, look at this. Does this outfit work for today?” Stella rushed to her side, grabbing her hands and nodding enthusiastically. “It is perfect. Simply gorgeous. If you ask me, this is exactly what you should wear. It makes you look so youthful and full of life.” My eyes widened. I stared at the woman I had been married to for nearly a decade. She said it was perfect. Stella did not even glance my way. She smiled warmly, gently guiding the older woman toward the revolving doors. When she noticed I had not moved an inch, she frowned in irritation. “What is your problem now? I literally just married her son. The poor woman just wants to wear something bright and happy to celebrate. Is that a crime?” “You are going to throw a tantrum over some fabric?” I looked at her. I felt a terrifying, absolute calm wash over my entire soul. My lips pulled back into a chilling smile. “You are right. I am being entirely too petty.” Ignoring Stella’s confused, slightly unnerved stare, I walked past them and got straight into the driver’s seat of the rental car. It was crystal clear. Every shred of hope I had ever harbored for this woman was toxic waste. My mother did not exist in her world. She never had. The drive was agonizingly tense. Stella’s face was a storm of conflicting emotions. Several times she opened her mouth to speak, and every single time, I cut her off instantly. “It is rush hour. Keep quiet. If I get distracted, we crash.” My voice was dead. Flat. It made Stella flinch, a flash of unease crossing her features before she finally clamped her mouth shut. But Noah’s mother was not used to silence. “Stella, what is wrong with this driver you hired? He has absolutely zero manners. If I were you, I would have fired him months ago.” I almost laughed out loud. What kind of delusional parasite was she, trying to dictate my life in my own car? Stella looked mortified. “Please do not be angry, Mom. He just… he speaks without thinking. Please do not take offense.” Noah’s mother sighed dramatically, placing a hand over her heart. “You have suffered so much these past years, my sweet girl. The very first time I laid eyes on you, I knew the universe made you specifically to be our family’s daughter-in-law.” “I love you right down to my bones.” She actually brought a hand up to wipe away a completely imaginary tear. Noah immediately leaned over to comfort her. “Do not cry, Mom. Everything is perfect now. Stella already promised we are going to start trying for a baby soon. I will give you a big, healthy grandson.” Stella’s face drained of color. She frantically slapped Noah’s knee. “Stop talking nonsense! I have no intention of having a child anytime soon!” Noah lowered his head submissively, but through the rearview mirror, I caught the vicious, toxic glare he shot her. Stella rushed to explain, though her words felt directed entirely at the back of my head. “My career is taking off right now. A baby is out of the question. We will talk about it years down the line.” I nodded slowly, keeping my eyes fixed on the road. She did not need to panic. She did not need to explain. A year ago, a conversation like this would have broken me. I would have screamed. I would have demanded answers. But today? I did not care if she had his baby tomorrow. Our timeline had reached a dead end. 5 When the car finally rolled to a stop at the sprawling gates of the memorial park, Stella looked out the window in confusion. “Why are we here?” She honestly could not comprehend why anyone would host a funeral at a cemetery instead of a lavish memorial hall. “Did you type in the wrong address, Arthur?” I killed the engine. Through the rearview mirror, my dead eyes met her questioning gaze. “No. This is the place.” Something clicked in her mind. The color vanished from her cheeks, leaving her looking like a ghost. “Are you saying…” “Yes.” I nodded, shifting my gaze to the rolling green hills lined with gray stones. My voice held absolutely zero emotion. “She is already in the ground. I buried her while you were busy planning a baby with him.” Stella froze. When reality finally crashed into her, she lunged forward, her fingers digging painfully into my shoulder, her face twisted in a manic rage. “You did this on purpose, did you not? I explicitly told you to postpone it!” I violently shoved her hands off me. My voice was laced with pure, unfiltered disgust. “Do you truly believe you are the center of the universe? That gravity itself shifts just to accommodate you?” “The date was set. The arrangements were made. Did you expect my mother’s body to rot in a morgue just because you were busy playing house?” Stella was stunned into silence. But Noah’s mother screeched from the backseat. “What is the big deal about waiting a few days? A brilliant, rich girl like Stella was willing to stoop down and attend your mother’s little burial. You should be kissing her feet in gratitude! Instead, you have the audacity to complain?” “You ungrateful little rat!” Noah nodded vigorously. “Exactly. You just take and take. Stella takes such good care of you, and you do not even consider her feelings for one second?” My jaw locked. I stared straight ahead, a statue carved from ice. I considered Stella’s feelings. But who considered mine? Who considered the woman who brought me into this world, lowering into the dark alone? Stella remained silent for a long, suffocating minute. She took a ragged breath. “Where is the grave? Take me to it.” I shook my head slowly. “You can walk up. They stay in the car.” I pointed a stiff finger at Noah and the neon-pink nightmare sitting next to him. “Those people will do nothing but defile the dead. They are not stepping foot on that grass.” The old woman’s face twisted into an ugly sneer, her mouth opening to spew more venom, but Stella cut her off sharply. “Fine. Just you and me.” I walked ahead, the gravel crunching beneath my shoes. Stella trailed closely behind me. The entire walk up the hill, she did not stop talking. A relentless stream of justifications and accusations. “Why did you bury her without my final approval? You could have at least sent me a text!” “How do you think this makes me look? A wife who skips her own mother-in-law’s burial? Do you want society to crucify me?” When I refused to offer even a single syllable in response, Stella snapped. She sprinted ahead, planting herself directly in my path, forcing me to stop. “You do not care about me at all anymore, do you?” I looked into her furious, blazing eyes. My heart was a flatline. “The date of the funeral was set days ago. You knew that. Why did I need to send a special invitation to my own wife?” “And I did text you after it was done. You chose to ignore it. What right do you have to stand on my mother’s grave and demand answers from me?” Stella’s expression cracked. She yanked her phone from her designer purse, her thumbs flying across the screen. I watched in total apathy as the anger drained from her face, replaced first by shock, then a sickening, pale dread. When she finally looked up at me, there was genuine panic trembling in her eyes. “I… I am so sorry. I…” “I swear I did not see the message. I was not trying to ignore you. I…” I let out a harsh, bitter laugh, slicing right through her pathetic excuses. “Does it matter now?” “She is in the dirt, Stella. What do you want me to do? Dig her up so you can pretend to care for the cameras?” “How can you say something so sick!” Stella flared up again, her guilt instantly weaponized into defensiveness. “I was just…” “Enough.” I stepped around her, my eyes fixed on the horizon. “You wanted to pay your respects. Here we are. Do it quickly. This is the last time you will ever come here.” Stella froze in her tracks. She spun around, grabbing my sleeve, her voice suddenly small and shaky. “What… what is that supposed to mean?” I stared down at her hands, then up to her face. My voice was a death sentence. “The divorce papers are printed. I am just waiting for your signature.”

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It had been three years since I started running a flower shop to support him, and he’d gone bankrupt again. The first time, I’d sold the house my grandmother left me, paying off seven hundred thousand. The second time, I’d dug out the savings account my mother had set aside as a nest egg for my future, settling a debt of one point six million. Now, with his third bankruptcy looming, I stared at his vacant, dry eyes, my fingers hovering over the number of my estranged, billionaire father. I hesitated, wondering if I should call. But that very evening, I stumbled upon a chat group on his tablet: “Mr. Davies, how much should we put down for the bankruptcy settlement this time?” “Make it ten million. Otherwise, the little flower seller will just pay it off in one go. Where’s the fun in that?” “You really know how to play, Mr. Davies. I hear the little flower seller nurtures flowers by day and nurtures you by night. Never gets old, does it?” I set the tablet down, picked up my phone, and dialed my billionaire father. “All you want is for me to inherit the family business and marry your protégé, right? Fine. I’ll do it.” “Send someone to pick me up in three days.” 01 Hanging up with my father, Louis Davies walked back in, a signed IOU in his hand. “Cathy, I’m so sorry. I owe another ten million this time. I’m useless.” His acting was flawless; the lost look in his eyes used to always elicit the same response from me: “It’s okay, we’ll work through this together. We’ll pay it off eventually.” But now, I just stared silently at the half-exposed watch on his wrist. It looked unassuming, but I’d seen it in a magazine. It was worth one hundred and sixty million. Louis Davies, with a watch worth one hundred and sixty million, couldn’t pay off a ten-million-dollar debt. And I, with nothing to my name, was considering taking out a loan for him. My sincerity had become the very fuel for his casual manipulation. Noticing my gaze on his watch, Louis, without a flicker of expression, pulled me into a hug. “It’s just a fake, Cathy. When I’m rich, I’ll buy you anything you want.” Knowing I was poor and didn’t recognize luxury brands, he didn’t even need to put much thought into his lies. I averted my eyes, only to see another message pop up on the tablet beside me. “Mr. Davies, what’s the little lady going to sell to pay off the debt this time? Flowers? Her house? Or… herself?” “The women Mr. Davies has played with must be quite something. If she’s selling herself, I’ll take her for a night!” The subsequent messages were a barrage of vulgarity and “+1s.” I’d been with Louis for three years, and I’d paid off his bankruptcy debts twice. The first time, I sold my grandmother’s house. Louis held me, promising to build a home with me. Yet, we lived in a cramped, four-hundred-dollar-a-month basement apartment for two years before he returned with another two-million-dollar IOU. I still didn’t blame him. Instead, I used the nest egg my mother had saved for me, patching up his financial hole. He knelt before me, saying that by accepting my pre-wedding gift, he was my husband, and he would love and cherish me forever. But his promises were lies, from beginning to end. Louis’s attention was also drawn by the incessant pings from his phone. He glanced at me, and seeing that I wasn’t watching him, he confidently opened his phone to scroll through the group chat. Soon, his brows furrowed, and his lips thinned into a line. He tapped a few times on the screen, and his message appeared on the tablet: “All of you, get lost! Just wait and watch the show!” Louis put his phone down. After a long silence, he wrapped his arms around me again, his voice thick with affection. “Cathy, I promise this is the last time. Once this debt is paid, I’ll marry you, okay?” I looked at the earnest expression on his face and suddenly found it incredibly laughable. How precious must I be, to have a wealthy young master go to such lengths to deceive me? Even going as far as to utter words like “marry you.” If at first, I’d wanted to lay everything bare and ask him if he found any of this amusing, Now, I didn’t even have the energy to question him. I calmly pushed him away. “But Louis, I’m out of money.” Louis froze, perhaps not expecting such a reaction from me. After all, in his mind, I should be desperate to find any means to pay off his debts. But quickly, his face twisted into anger. “Cathy, are you just like the others? Do you think I’m a failure? That I’ll never succeed?” “I knew it, I misjudged you!” With that, he stormed out, slamming the door behind him. I watched his retreating back, understanding that he was using this tactic to pressure me into submission. But I didn’t call out to him. Instead, I pulled out my phone and blocked all his contacts. Then I picked up the IOU. No borrower, no debtor’s fingerprint. It was an obvious fake, yet I’d foolishly fallen for it twice. I gave a self-deprecating laugh and dialed the agent. “Hello, please help me sublease the flower shop on Central Street!” The flower shop was opened to support Louis. Now that I was done with him, there was no need to keep it running. Anyway, I was leaving. 02 The next morning, I stayed home to pack. Looking around the small, dim rental, there was surprisingly little worth taking with me. Birthday cards tossed from a bakery, pretty stones picked up from the street, rings fashioned from crumpled paper… Louis had presented these as surprises. But each time I opened a ‘blind box,’ he looked just as surprised. Now, I realized these ‘gifts’ were probably just random items someone else had arranged for him, and he likely didn’t even know what was inside. The only somewhat decent gift was a necklace he’d bought for eighty dollars from a street vendor after his first successful venture. At the time, I thought he was wasting money and got quite upset with him. But Louis had just laughed, an amused look on his face. He said I was silly, wondering what would happen if he ever truly became wealthy and I still couldn’t bring myself to spend money. I thought he was being considerate then. Now, it seemed he truly thought I was an idiot. In our dense chat history, Louis had called me ‘silly’ a staggering 517 times. When I ran through three streets to buy him his favorite late-night snack, he’d say, “How can Cathy be so silly?” When he had a fever, and I draped my only raincoat over him, carrying him to the hospital on my back, he’d say, “She’s ridiculously silly.” Even when I lay in his arms, dreaming of a brighter future with him, he would still type in the group chat: “Cathy is hopelessly silly, so broke yet still fantasizing about a future with me…” Even in cold text, I could imagine the disdain and mockery in his tone as he wrote that. But it didn’t matter anymore. From now on, Louis Davies would have no place in Cathy Lord’s future. I continued packing, but in the end, my large suitcase remained empty. The trash can, however, was full. I surveyed the home I’d lived in for two years once more. The walls stained with watermarks, a chair with a broken leg, a bed made of bricks and planks… When things were a little better, I’d wanted to decorate this place properly. But Louis always refused. He said we wouldn’t live here once we had money, so decorating was pointless. I’d believed every one of his promises, then stayed in this dilapidated house, foolishly waiting for those promises to materialize. Thinking of all this, I suddenly felt a profound sense of futility. I closed my suitcase just as the agent called. “Miss Lord, I can’t finalize the flower shop sublease myself. You’ll need to speak with the landlord personally.” 03 At three in the afternoon, I arrived punctually at the appointed office building to meet the agent. Down the opulent hallway, through a slightly ajar door, I caught sight of Louis. He was dressed in a well-tailored suit, head bowed, fiddling with his phone. Beside him, a woman, elegantly dressed, leaned intimately against his shoulder. The moment I saw her, I recognized her. Two days ago, the flower shop received an order for nine hundred and ninety-nine roses. Because the customer specifically requested the thorns not be removed, I’d painstakingly wrapped every single one, my hands bleeding. When I personally took a cab to deliver them, the recipient was this woman: Tiffany Chase. At the heart of the bouquet was a small card, as requested by the customer: “To my lifelong love, Tiffany. From: L.D.” It was only then that I realized L.D. stood for Louis Davies. He knew perfectly well that I, desperate for money, wouldn’t turn down such a large order. So he deliberately made those demands, watching me scramble like a fool. The thought of it brought tears to my eyes, almost making me laugh. After returning home that day, I had even excitedly shared with Louis how much money I’d made. As he tenderly bandaged my wounds, was he, in his heart, calling me silly again? Viewing me as a joke? As I wiped away the tears, the agent arrived. Seeing me standing at the door, he asked, puzzled, “Miss Lord, the landlord is inside. Why don’t you go in?” My eyes, still tearful, widened in shock as I looked at the agent. “Who did you say? The landlord? Louis Davies?” The agent looked bewildered. “Yes, didn’t you know? The entire block on Central Street belongs to Mr. Davies.” 04 I gazed at Louis’s figure in the distance, and deeply buried painful memories surged. After helping Louis pay off his second debt, I went through a long period of financial hardship, unable even to afford rent. Four or five burly men crowded the flower shop entrance, demanding payment. They smashed all the flowers in the shop, Even stepping on my cat, letting it cry out in pain without easing their foot. The little cat had been with me for twelve years; to me, it wasn’t just a pet, but family, as important as Louis. I pleaded, in tears, on my knees, begging them to spare it. In the three years I’d run the shop, I’d faced countless demands for rent and protection fees. But I’d never mentioned any of it to Louis; I didn’t want to burden him. This time, however, I was truly terrified. I called him, sobbing so hard I could barely breathe. I asked him, “Louis, what do I do? Save Muffin, please save her…” Louis knew how much Muffin meant to me, yet after a long silence, he still said he was sorry. I watched, helpless, as those burly men crushed my cat to death. I held her, feeling her grow cold and stiff in my arms. It was the same powerlessness I felt when my mother died in my embrace. Yet even then, I never hated Louis. I only regretted my own helplessness. But now, the truth was laid bare before me: the landlord who demanded my rent was Louis. The one who could have saved Muffin with a single word was also Louis. But he didn’t save her, and Muffin died. I bit down hard on my teeth, barely suppressing a sob. I ran out of the office building, hailed a taxi, and told the driver to take me to the airport. In the car, my hands shaking, I called my father. After twenty-seven years, the only person I could rely on was the father I had once disavowed. “Dad, please, come pick me up now? Please…” … Meanwhile, Louis Davies, Tiffany Chase, and his friends emerged from the office. His head was bowed, his gaze fixed intently on our chat window. Two whole days, and I hadn’t sent him a single message. He felt a surge of irritation, pulled out a cigarette to light it, then put it back, remembering I disliked the smell of smoke on him. One of his good friends clapped him on the shoulder from behind, looking rather smugly at the dark screen. “What’s up, Louis? The little lady can’t pay this time? Not playing with you anymore?” A flicker of annoyance crossed Louis’s eyes as he pushed his friend’s arm away. “Who said that? Cathy loves me so much, she’s probably off somewhere right now scraping money together for me!” “Just you wait, after I give her a few days, she’ll cough up the money!” No sooner had the words left his mouth than the agent, who had overheard my name, came over. “Cathy Lord? Mr. Davies, you know Miss Lord? Perfect, she wants to sublease her flower shop, and I was worried you wouldn’t agree!” Louis frowned. He had a vague feeling that the unease accumulating in his heart these past few days was about to find an answer today. He tried to steady his emotions, feigning a casual tone. “The flower shop is doing so well, why would she sublease it?” The agent offered him a placating smile, completely unaware of the significance of his words. “Miss Lord said she’s tired of running the flower shop. She’s going home to get married.”

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