Category: English

1 I’ve been able to understand animals since I was born. When I was three, the old golden retriever at my grandma’s house started barking frantically at me. [Don’t drink that! There’s rat poison in the soup!] I got so scared I knocked the bowl of chicken soup off the table. Half an hour later, a rat that licked up the spill on the floor dropped dead by the baseboard, foaming at the mouth. When I was seven, the neighbor’s pet canary spent all day cursing out their nanny. [Thief! Stole the money and hid it under the bed!] The police did a search and found the missing three thousand dollars exactly where the bird said it was. Fast forward to today. I was waiting in the ER to pick up my dad from his shift when a chaotic scene broke out. The young daughter of a powerful, old-money heiress had been bitten by a snake. The heiress’s fiancé rushed into the ER. His own hand was swollen from a snakebite, but he didn’t care. He practically shoved a clear plastic container with a snake in it right into my dad’s face. My dad, an ER doctor with twenty years of experience, immediately identified it as a cobra and ordered the nurses to prep the cobra antivenom for the little girl. But suddenly, a piercing, frantic series of barks erupted from a fluffy Pomeranian near the door. [That’s not the snake that bit the little master!] [That man swapped the snakes! He wants to marry into the rich family, but he doesn’t want to be a stepdad! He’s intentionally misleading the doctor to let her die!] [The snake that actually bit her was a King Cobra!] My pupils contracted violently. I yelled out before I could stop myself. “Dad, stop! You can’t just give her cobra antivenom! You need to give her banded krait antivenom too!” The entire emergency room froze and stared at me. My dad looked utterly confused. “Leo, a cobra bite only requires one type of antivenom. We don’t need the banded krait serum.” I took a step forward. “But what if the snake that bit her wasn’t this one? What if it was a King Cobra?” The moment the words left my mouth, the man claiming to be the heiress’s fiancé went completely pale. That was all the confirmation I needed. The Pomeranian was telling the truth. This guy had swapped the snakes. I looked at my dad, keeping my voice steady. “Dad, you know a King Cobra bite delivers both neurotoxins and cytotoxins simultaneously. A single antivenom isn’t going to be enough.” My dad was a veteran of the ER. He was sharper than most. Hearing me lay it out like that, his expression shifted. “But her current symptoms align perfectly with a standard cobra bite. And the family brought the specimen right here…” [He’s full of crap!] The Pomeranian was jumping up and down in a panic, wagging its tail so hard it looked like a helicopter blade. [Adam intentionally sent the nanny away and had someone release a King Cobra through the garden fence!] [After the little master was bitten, he let the King Cobra escape, pulled out this regular cobra he had prepared beforehand, and let it bite his own hand!] [If the doctor only gives her one antivenom, she is going to die! And then the mistress will definitely make the doctor take the fall for it!] I sucked in a sharp breath. This guy was pure evil. He wasn’t just trying to murder a little kid; he was setting my dad up to take the blame for medical malpractice. Before I could say another word, Adam, who had just finished receiving his own dose of antivenom, lashed out. “Who the hell are you? Do you know spouting nonsense in an ER can kill someone?!” The tear tracks on his face were still wet, but his eyes were sharp and vicious. “I’m warning you. This is the granddaughter of the Sterling family! If you delay her treatment, you won’t be able to afford the consequences!” I didn’t back down an inch. “You’re the one delaying her treatment! You want the Sterling family fortune, but you don’t want the baggage of a stepdaughter. So you came up with a sick plan to swap the snake and mislead the doctors.” “You thought you could walk away with clean hands, inherit the money, and even look like a tragic hero who tried to save her!” The ER went dead silent. Every single pair of eyes snapped to Adam. Except for the Pomeranian, who was staring at me in absolute shock. [You can hear me?!] It read my expression and went completely wild with excitement. [Oh my god! Yes! The little master is saved! Finally, someone is exposing this evil man!] Adam’s face lost all its color. He clearly couldn’t fathom how I knew the exact details of his plan. But he was a good actor. He regained his composure in a split second. “Do you have any proof of this insane conspiracy theory? Keep spouting this garbage and I will sue you for defamation!” I ignored him. I turned to look at the Sterling family patriarch, a distinguished older gentleman standing near the bed. “Sir, please believe me. The little girl was bitten by a King Cobra.” “If you only administer one type of antivenom right now, the neurotoxins in her system will go untreated. She won’t survive the night.” The old man’s deeply lined face was tense with anxiety. He hesitated. “Adam… are you absolutely sure this is the snake that bit Kayla?” He asked it gently, but Adam instantly made his eyes red and glassy, putting on a masterful display of wounded grievance. “Grandpa, you’ve seen how much I love Kayla. You know how good I am to her.” “I was so terrified she would be misdiagnosed that I chased down the snake with my bare hands, knowing I would get bitten! Why would you listen to the crazy ramblings of a total stranger over me?” “If you still don’t believe me, ask the nanny! She was right there when it happened!” Everyone’s gaze shifted to the middle-aged nanny hovering nervously in the corner. She was already terrified because her negligence had led to the child getting bitten. Hearing Adam essentially offer her a lifeline, she immediately nodded vigorously. “Y-Yes… sir, little Kayla was definitely bitten by this exact snake.” “It came out of nowhere, bit her, and tried to slither away. Mr. Adam reacted so fast, he just threw himself at it to protect her.” The Pomeranian was grinding its teeth in pure rage. [I spit on you! This man is the biggest faker in the world! He bribed the nanny months ago to find out everything the little master liked, just so he could suck up to the family and get engaged to the mistress!] [Behind their backs, he calls the little master a burden! He even calls the old man a half-dead geezer!] [But look at the old man’s face! He’s getting soft! He’s going to fall for it!] Just as the dog predicted, the old man hesitated for a few seconds before sighing. “Adam, forgive me. My mind is just clouded with panic. I didn’t mean to doubt you.” “Doctor, go ahead with the cobra antivenom.” My dad knew I wasn’t the type to cause a scene without a reason. He had been quietly but intensely observing the little girl’s symptoms this entire time. “Sir, I strongly advise we exercise caution here. The patient is already beginning to exhibit subtle signs of neurotoxicity…” Before he could finish his sentence, the Director of the ER shoved his way through the crowd and yanked my dad aside by the arm. “Dr. Hoffman! The family literally brought the specimen with them! What is there to hesitate about?!” “This is the Sterling family! We need to administer the antivenom immediately! If you delay this any longer and something happens to that child, who’s going to take the fall? Because it won’t be me!” The Director glared at me, his face turning an ugly shade of purple. “And why are you letting your son run his mouth in my ER?! He’s a vet med student! What does he know about human clinical toxicology?!” My dad’s brow furrowed, ready to argue back, but Adam exploded first. “Director Vance! Is this how the doctors in your hospital operate?!” He lifted his chin, radiating arrogant entitlement. “I risked my own life to catch this snake, and you’re going to ignore the hard evidence because a vet student had a hunch?!” “It seems I need to have a serious conversation with my father about pulling the Adam Corporation’s funding for this hospital next quarter.” Director Vance’s face instantly went sheet white. The Adam Corporation was the hospital’s largest private donor. They funded millions in medical equipment procurement every year. Vance didn’t hesitate for half a second. He whirled around and screamed at my dad. “Dr. Hoffman! Administer the cobra antivenom immediately! This is a direct medical order!” “If you don’t execute it right this second, you can pack up your locker and get the hell out of my hospital!” My dad looked down at the little girl on the bed. She was seven years old. The swelling on her arm was traveling rapidly up her lymphatic vessels toward her shoulder, and she was crying weakly in pain. He took a deep breath, turned to the nearest nurse, and spoke with absolute clarity. “Nurse Sarah. Go to the pharmacy and pull the banded krait antivenom.” Director Vance’s eyes bulged out of his head. “Are you insane?! She was bitten by a standard cobra!” My dad’s voice was rock solid. “I am the attending physician for this patient. I have the ultimate authority to determine the treatment plan based on clinical presentation.” Nurse Sarah froze for a second, then nodded and turned to run toward the pharmacy. Adam panicked. He lunged forward and grabbed Sarah by the sleeve of her scrubs, his voice pitching high. “Don’t you dare! Kayla was bitten by a cobra! If you pump her full of unnecessary antivenom and she dies from toxic shock, who is going to take responsibility?!” He whipped his head toward the Director. Director Vance was sweating profusely. He yelled at my dad. “Dr. Hoffman, wake up! Mr. Adam and the little girl were bitten by the exact same snake!” “Mr. Adam is showing absolutely zero signs of neurotoxicity! He only has localized swelling!” But that only made my dad more confident. “Exactly. Putting aside what species of snake it is, why would two people bitten by the exact same snake exhibit two completely different physiological reactions?” Someone in the crowd of onlookers muttered quietly. “Yeah… why are their symptoms different?” “Could the kid be right? Did this guy really swap the snake because he didn’t want a stepkid?” “It’s totally possible. Remember that crazy true crime case on the news last month?” Adam’s face visibly tightened, but he recovered fast. “It’s obvious! I’m a full-grown adult with a strong immune system. My body metabolizes venom differently. Kayla is a small child, so the toxins are overwhelming her system!” “Plus, I already received the antivenom and I’m fine. That proves it’s the right treatment!” Director Vance nodded frantically like a bobblehead. “Mr. Adam is absolutely right, this is basic physiolo—” Before he could finish, a woman in a sleek black trench coat strode into the ER, flanked by four massive bodyguards. Maya Sterling, the heiress herself, looked at her daughter lying on the bed, her jaw tightening so hard it looked like it might snap. “What is going on? Why hasn’t she received the antivenom yet?” Adam threw himself at her, trembling and crying. “Maya! It’s this vet student! He keeps physically blocking the doctors from giving Kayla the shot! I caught the cobra with my own hands, but he keeps insisting it was a King Cobra! He’s trying to force them to give her a second, highly toxic antivenom! He’s literally trying to kill her…” Maya didn’t even look at him. She took a step forward, her freezing, calculating gaze landing directly on my face. “You’re claiming the snake that bit my daughter isn’t the one in that box. What proof do you have?” The Pomeranian was going absolutely feral, jumping and barking at Maya’s ankles. [Mistress! Mistress! I told the nice boy! I saw it with my own eyes!] Unfortunately, Maya couldn’t hear the dog. But I could definitely feel the intense, suffocating pressure of her stare. Proof? What proof did I have? Was I supposed to tell a billionaire heiress that I heard it from her fluffy lap dog? She’d lock me in a psych ward. Seeing that I was temporarily speechless, a flash of smug triumph crossed Adam’s eyes. “See? I asked him for proof earlier and he couldn’t produce a single thing! He’s just deflecting and throwing insane accusations at me to delay Kayla’s treatment!” “Maya, it’s been almost an hour since she was bitten! We have to give her the shot now!” Maya finally turned her head to look at him. “You seem very eager.” Her eyes were completely devoid of emotion, but something about the way she said it made Adam flinch. “N-No… I’m just terrified for Kayla. Even I feel dizzy and sick, and I’m an adult who already got the antidote.” Maya acted like he hadn’t spoken. She turned her icy gaze back to me. “I checked the security footage from the estate. Kayla ran into a blind spot in the garden. The cameras didn’t catch the bite. Did you see something?” I was desperately trying to figure out how to spin a believable lie when the Pomeranian started barking frantically again. [The Boss! Find the Boss! There’s a stray tabby cat that lives in the garden! The little master always feeds her, and the Boss loves her!] [After the little master got bit, I saw the Boss chase after the snake! The other strays followed her! They’re definitely going to avenge the little master!] A tabby cat? I’m a vet med student. I know animal behavior. A cat’s reaction time is ten times faster than a snake’s. To a street-smart stray cat, a snake is basically just a very spicy string toy. If what the Pomeranian was saying was true, the tabby had definitely caught it. I looked up at Maya, radiating absolute confidence. “Ms. Sterling. The cameras might not have caught it, but you can send your security team to sweep the perimeter of your garden. Check every inch outside the fence, specifically anywhere the stray cats congregate. The snake that actually bit your daughter is going to be right there.” Adam’s face warped in horror. “Are you insane?! I already caught the snake! You’re sending people on a wild goose chase just to—” I let out a dry laugh, cutting him off completely. “Mr. Adam, for a guy who just claimed to be dizzy and sick, you’re awfully energetic. What exactly are you so terrified of? Are you scared they’re going to find the snake? Or are you scared they’re going to find something else?” “You—!” He realized he was overreacting and forced himself to calm down. “What do I have to be scared of? My conscience is perfectly clear! But if Kayla suffers permanent nerve damage because of your little stunt, you will pay for it!” I ignored his empty threats and kept my eyes locked on Maya. “The golden window to administer antivenom is two hours. I’m sure the Sterling family’s security team is efficient enough to sweep a garden in a fraction of that time.” “But if you inject the wrong antivenom right now, there is no undo button. It’s your call.” I had done everything I could. If they insisted on giving her the wrong treatment, it was out of my dad’s hands. I just had to pray that this woman wasn’t the type of mother to let her kid die just because her fiancé told her to. Maya stared at me for two long, agonizing seconds. Then she pulled out her phone. “Sweep the garden. Find the snake.” I had barely let out a sigh of relief when she locked eyes with me again. “Listen to me very carefully. The golden window might be two hours, but every minute counts. If my daughter suffers any lasting neurological damage because of this delay, I will personally destroy your life.” So I try to do a good deed and get a death threat in return? Nice. But there was a kid’s life on the line. I swallowed hard and nodded. “Understood.” Now I just had to pray to God that the street cat actually won the boss fight against a King Cobra. The next ten minutes felt like ten years. My dad stood by the bed, continuously checking the little girl’s blood oxygen levels. Director Vance paced back and forth, muttering under his breath. “We’re dead. If the Sterling family blames the hospital, the entire ER is going down… no, the whole hospital is finished.” The Sterling patriarch was frantically rolling a string of wooden prayer beads through his fingers, murmuring silent prayers. Adam was staring daggers at me, his eyes practically dripping poison. The Pomeranian was lying flat on the floor by my feet, its ears pressed against the tile, its tail thumping rhythmically. [The Boss definitely killed it. I just hope those stupid bodyguards aren’t blind…] Ten minutes later, Maya’s phone rang. She answered it. Slowly, a deep crease formed between her brows. She hung up, looked at me, and her eyes turned utterly lethal. “They swept the garden three times. They checked a ten-mile radius. Aside from a few feral cats, there is no King Cobra.” [Impossible! The Boss would never let it get away!] The Pomeranian jumped up in a panic. My heart sank into my stomach. Did the cat lose? Adam instantly burst into dramatic, heaving sobs. “Maya! I told you he was just stalling! Please, tell the doctors to give Kayla the shot before it’s too late!” Maya’s gaze on me was colder than liquid nitrogen. She raised a single finger, gesturing to her bodyguards. “Take him to the police station.” Two massive men in suits stepped forward and grabbed my arms. The Pomeranian let out a miserable, high-pitched whine. [It’s over… it’s over… the little master is dead…] As the bodyguards started dragging me toward the door, I fought back, screaming at the top of my lungs. “You can’t just give her one shot! You’re going to kill her!” Adam stepped up and slapped me hard across the face. “Shut your mouth!” “What King Cobra? What stray cats? You made up this entire psychotic fantasy just to delay Kayla’s treatment!” “Who paid you?! Was it one of Maya’s corporate rivals?!” He was working himself into a frenzy. He raised his hand to slap me again. My dad, who was being restrained by hospital security, screamed, his voice breaking. “Don’t touch my son! He doesn’t lie!” Adam whipped around and roared at my dad. “He didn’t even see the snake and he’s screaming about a King Cobra! If that’s not lying, what is?! You two are in this together!” “This whole snake incident is suspicious! He won’t tell the truth until he learns a lesson. Throw him in the back of my car! I’ll interrogate him myself!” “And grab his dad too! He’s probably an accomplice!” Adam smiled smugly as the bodyguards dragged me closer to the automatic doors. The Pomeranian was desperately biting at the hem of Maya’s trench coat. [No! It’s not true! The nice boy didn’t lie!] [Don’t let him take the nice boy! Adam will torture him!] Maya glanced down at the little dog tugging on her coat, a slight frown on her face. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could— A golden-brown blur launched itself through the sliding glass doors of the ER. With a wet, heavy thud, a six-foot-long, dark brown snake was dropped onto the sterile white tiles. A ragged, battle-scarred tabby cat sat down next to it and casually started licking its paw. “Meow.” [I’m exhausted. It took me forever to find out which hospital the kid was at. Better not be too late.] The second Adam’s eyes locked onto the mangled corpse of the King Cobra on the floor, his face drained of every single drop of blood.

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My neighbor’s child fell from the twelfth floor, landing right on my window awning. I held onto her with everything I had. For forty agonizing minutes, I grit my teeth and refused to let go, only relaxing my grip when the firefighters finally hauled her to safety. Yet, afterward, her parents demanded I pay for her medical bills because her shoulder had dislocated during the struggle. “The doctor says her ligaments and joint capsule are severely damaged, and her shoulder will keep popping out,” they told me. “You did this to her. Why are you trying to dodge responsibility?” During our argument, they shoved me. I went over the balcony. The little girl survived her fall from the twelfth floor, but I didn’t survive my fall from the sixth. Now, I have been reborn back to the very day of the accident. And as a shut-in who rarely leaves her apartment, I decided to spend the entire day out on the town. 1 The phone buzzed relentlessly on the wooden table, the screen flashing the caller ID: Brenda Apt 1201. Once. Twice. Three times. I sat in the quiet corner of the neighborhood café, slowly stirring my iced latte, watching the screen light up and fade. I had absolutely no intention of picking up. I knew exactly why she was calling. And I knew that right now, she must be losing her mind with panic. Only hours ago, I woke up in this life, realizing I had been reborn. In my past life, on this very afternoon, I was taking a nap when the sound of frantic screaming and a heavy, metallic thud jolted me awake. I rushed to my balcony and froze. Paul, Brenda’s five-year-old daughter, was hanging precariously from the edge of my protruding metal window awning. Half her body dangled in the empty air, six floors above the concrete. Without a second thought, without even putting on shoes, I scrambled through the security grates. Barefoot on the narrow, slippery metal sheet, I reached down and grabbed Paul’s wrist. The child was heavier than I expected. The sudden downward jerk felt as though my shoulder was being ripped from its socket. “Don’t look down, Paul. I’ve got you. Just hold on,” I gasped, trying to keep my voice steady. I pulled with everything I had, but a slender woman trying to hoist a thirty-pound child back up onto a narrow ledge is a near-impossible feat. All I could do was lock my grip. I grit my teeth as my muscles began to tear, my bones aching under the immense strain. Time stretched into agonizing, infinite seconds. A crowd began to gather on the pavement below. Gasps, pointing fingers, and the distant wails of emergency sirens blended into a chaotic blur of noise. Ten minutes later, Brenda finally realized her daughter was missing. She poked her head out of her twelfth-floor window, screaming hysterically. “Nora, please! Hold on to her! Don’t let her go!” “I’m coming down! Just don’t let go!” Her voice was thick with terror and gratitude. I believed her. I truly thought I was saving a family from tragedy. I stared at Paul’s tear-stained, terrified face, sweat and tears stinging my own eyes. “It hurts,” the little girl sobbed. “Just a little longer, sweetie. The paramedics are coming,” I whispered, my voice raw. My arm had gone entirely numb. I was operating on pure adrenaline and sheer willpower. Ten minutes. Twenty minutes. Thirty minutes. My mind went blank. My vision blurred around the edges, and the only sound in my universe was the ragged pounding of my own heart. Just as my grip began to fail, a pair of strong hands reached out from my apartment window. The rescue crew had finally arrived. They hauled Paul inside. The girl was safe. I collapsed onto the balcony floor, my body shaking violently. Forty minutes. I had held on for forty minutes. My right arm hung limply at my side, useless as a broken branch. I couldn’t even wiggle a finger. Brenda rushed in, sobbing as she hugged her daughter. She showered me with endless thank-yous. I thought that was the end of it. I had done a good deed. It was painful, but it was worth it. I had no idea the real nightmare was about to begin. 2 The very next day, Brenda and her husband knocked on my door. They weren’t carrying flowers. They were holding a medical report. “Nora, look at what you did to my daughter!” Brenda screamed, throwing the papers directly at my face. “The doctor said Paul’s shoulder ligaments are severely torn, and her joint capsule is ruined! She has habitual dislocation now! Her arm is going to pop out of its socket at the slightest tug!” I stared at her, utterly bewildered. “That… that happened during the rescue. I had to hold her…” “You did this!” Brenda’s husband snarled, shoving his finger in my face. “Paul told us you squeezed her arm so hard it hurt. You’re an adult. Couldn’t you have been gentler? You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I had nearly ruined my own arm to save their child from plunging to her death, and now they were blaming me for the minor injuries sustained during her rescue. “I was losing my grip,” I said, my voice trembling with rage. “It was either hold on tight or let her fall. How could I possibly control my grip strength in that moment? Would you have done any better?” “How do we know you didn’t do it on purpose?” Brenda spat, her eyes wild with malice. “Maybe you’re just jealous because you don’t have kids of your own!” They demanded fifty thousand dollars for medical bills, physical therapy, and emotional distress. I refused. “Your wife is the one who wasn’t watching her child!” I yelled back. “She fell because of your neglect! I saved her life! Instead of thanking me, you’re trying to extort me? What is wrong with you people?” My words pushed them over the edge. “How dare you deflect the blame!” her husband roared. They lunged at me, pushing and shoving me back onto the balcony. In the chaotic scuffle, they shoved me right against the low railing. My feet slipped. Suddenly, I was falling. The wind roared in my ears, and the horrified screams of pedestrians below quickly faded into a muffled hum. I fell from the sixth floor like a bird with clipped wings. In my final seconds of consciousness, only one thought flashed through my mind: How pathetic. The girl who fell from the twelfth floor survived, but the woman who saved her was murdered. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in my bedroom. It was noon on the day of the accident. Instead of staying in to take a nap, I got up, put on some light makeup, dressed in a nice outfit, and left the apartment. I went shopping, watched a movie, and ordered a nice lunch at a café. I did everything I usually avoided. I wanted to be as far away from that building as possible. I wanted to make sure nobody could find me. 3 My phone buzzed again. This time it was an unknown number, likely the police or the fire department. I let it ring. Some parents need to learn the hard way that negligence carries a steep price. I wasn’t going to be the martyr this time. I was going to live for myself. I finished my coffee and checked the time. It was about forty minutes since the first call. I opened a smart-home app on my phone, which was connected to the camera over my front door. A crystal-clear video feed popped up. A crowd had gathered outside my apartment. Brenda was pacing frantically, surrounded by a few anxious neighbors and several firefighters in heavy gear. The lieutenant was explaining the situation to Brenda. “Ma’am, the child is currently caught on the sixth-floor awning. From what we can see from below, the metal frame is stable for now. But because of the building’s layout, the awning sticks out too far. We can’t safely reach her from the fifth or seventh floors. Our only option is to cut through the security grates of Apt 602 and pull her in.” “Then break the door down! Hurry!” Brenda shrieked, stomping her foot. “We can’t do that,” the lieutenant replied firmly. “This is a private residence. Without the owner’s consent or an immediate fire hazard inside, we do not have the legal authority to force entry. We are setting up an inflatable rescue cushion below, but from this height, it’s a gamble at best.” “Who cares about the law? A child’s life is on the line!” Brenda screamed. “If anything happens to my baby, I will sue all of you!” “We are doing everything we can to contact the tenant. Please remain calm.” “She’s in there! I know she is!” Brenda yelled, her face red. “Nora is a total hermit! She never goes out! She’s doing this on purpose! She’s ignoring the calls!” The lieutenant frowned. “Ma’am, let me remind you that as her guardian, it was your responsibility to watch your child. We are trying our best. Do not interfere with our work.” Brenda choked on her words but quickly dialed my number again. Through the camera, I watched her face twist with venom. I could hear her muffled curses echoing through the hallway. “That stupid bitch! Is she deaf or dead? Why isn’t she picking up?” “Just wait until Paul is safe. I’ll tear her apart! Selfish piece of garbage!” Her insults were identical to the ones she hurled at me in my past life right before she pushed me. Only this time, I was sitting in a cozy café, watching her unravel from a safe distance. 4 I kept my eyes on the timer on my phone screen. In my past life, I held on for forty minutes. This time, they were going to feel every single second of that agonizing wait. When the timer hit exactly ten minutes, I finally swiped to answer. “Hello? Brenda?” I kept my voice light, laced with confusion. “Is everything okay? You’ve called so many times. I was in a movie theater and had my phone on silent.” Brenda’s voice came screeching through the receiver, barely holding back her fury. “Nora! Thank God! You need to get back here right now! Paul fell onto your balcony awning! The firefighters need to get into your apartment to save her!” “What?” I gasped dramatically, letting a wave of panic flood my voice. “Oh my god! Is Paul okay? Don’t panic, Brenda! I’m coming right now! I’ll grab a cab, I should be there in twenty minutes!” Before I hung up, I heard Brenda turn to the lieutenant and hiss, “She’s on her way. Of course she had to pick today of all days to leave her apartment. Useless curse of a neighbor.” I smiled, walked out of the café, and hailed a taxi. “Fairview Apartments, please,” I told the driver. As the car merged into traffic, I watched the city lights fly past. They wanted a savior, but they would have to wait. Midway through the drive, Brenda called again. “Where the hell are you? Why aren’t you here yet?” “I’m almost there, Brenda! There’s some traffic, but I asked the driver to take a shortcut!” I kept my tone apologetic, but my heart rate didn’t elevate even a beat. By the time the taxi pulled up to the apartment complex, thirty minutes had passed. As I walked toward the lobby entrance, I noticed a bright yellow sign taped to the glass door: Elevator out of service for maintenance. How perfect. Even better, right in the middle of the narrow lobby floor sat a pink plastic toddler walker. I recognized it instantly. In my past life, Brenda always left Paul’s toys, strollers, and walkers in the common areas because she didn’t want them cluttering her own apartment. The neighbors had complained dozens of times, but Brenda was incredibly defensive, picking fights with anyone who brought it up. Eventually, everyone just stopped trying. Looking at that pink walker, a flawless plan fell right into place. Fate was truly on my side. 5 My phone vibrated violently in my pocket again. Brenda. “Nora! Where are you? Are you trying to kill my daughter?” I answered the call as I picked up my pace, making sure my breathing sounded heavy and rushed. “I’m in the lobby! I’m running up the stairs right now! I’m coming—” I let out a sharp, genuine-sounding shriek. I deliberately kicked the wheel of the plastic walker, letting my momentum carry me forward. To make it look authentic, I didn’t brace myself. I let my knees and elbows slam hard against the cold, unforgiving terrazzo floor. A dull thud echoed through the lobby. A sharp, searing pain shot up my leg. My vision went black for a second, and I gasped for air, nearly crying out in actual pain. The phone flew from my hand, the screen spiderwebbing across the tiles, but the call remained connected. Brenda’s voice kept blaring from the speaker, distorted and grating. “Nora? What was that? What game are you playing now?” I crawled over, reaching out with a trembling hand to grab the cracked phone, groaning into the receiver. “I… I fell. The elevator is broken. I’m climbing the stairs now.” And I did crawl. I pulled myself up, letting the blood from my scraped knees stain my jeans. Using the handrail to hoist my weight, I dragged myself up the concrete steps, one painful step at a time. On the second floor, a neighbor, Mrs. Gable, opened her door and gasped at the sight of me. “Nora! Oh my goodness, what happened to you? Let me call an ambulance!” I shook my head weakly, panting heavily. “No… don’t worry about me. Save the girl first. Brenda’s daughter is hanging from my awning. I have to open the door.” My words left Mrs. Gable and the other neighbors who had peeked out completely stunned. Their expressions shifted from surprise to deep sympathy and respect. “Look at her, dragging herself up like that just to save a child…” “What a brave girl…” “Hurry, someone go upstairs and see if they can help!” The tide of public opinion was turning exactly the way I wanted. I kept climbing. Third floor. Fourth floor. Fifth floor. The stairwell echoed with my heavy, ragged breathing and the scraping of my shoes against the concrete. My phone rang again. It was Brenda, but I didn’t have the strength to answer, letting the ringing echo in the empty stairwell. I could picture her upstairs, pacing, cursing, and sweating. The longer I took, the weaker Paul would get. In my past life, I held onto her for forty minutes. How long could a five-year-old child dangle from a high ledge on her own before her grip gave out? I didn’t know. But I was going to let them experience every second of that agonizing uncertainty. Finally, with the last ounce of my strength, I dragged myself onto the sixth-floor landing. 6 Outside my door, the firefighters and Brenda were waiting. The moment Brenda saw me, she rushed over like a rabid animal. She didn’t look at my bleeding knees or my torn clothes. She simply snatched the keys out of my trembling hand. “What took you so long? You slow, useless idiot!” she screamed, scrambling to unlock the door. Her hands shook so badly she missed the keyhole several times. The firefighters and neighbors finally noticed the state I was in. “Oh my god, look at her legs! She’s seriously hurt!” “Her knee looks dislocated…” But with a life on the line, the rescue team rushed past us into my apartment, heading straight for the balcony. Supported by a neighbor, I hobbled inside behind them. On the balcony, the rescue team quickly set up their ropes and harnesses. They leaned out the window, preparing to secure Paul. “Paul! Hold on baby! Mommy’s here!” Brenda shrieked, leaning over the window frame. On the metal awning below, the tiny pink figure stirred. Maybe she heard her mother’s voice, or maybe it was just a final surge of survival instinct, but she tried to reach upward. But she had been hanging there far too long. Her strength was entirely spent. Just a second before the rescue harness could reach her, Paul’s tiny fingers lost their grip. The pink figure tumbled through the air like a falling leaf, plunging out of sight. Time stopped. From below, a chorus of horrified screams shattered the silence. The balcony fell into a deathly quiet. A moment later, Brenda let out a guttural, inhuman scream. “Paul!” She collapsed onto the floor, her face pale as ash. The firefighters slowly pulled their ropes back in, bowing their heads in solemn silence. The rescue had failed. And I, the neighbor who had dragged herself up six flights of stairs to open the door, was finally ready for my performance.

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1 After the miscarriage, my best friend booked me a session at a virtual-reality AI memorial studio. She told me that through immersive simulation, I would be able to hold my baby girl in my arms one last time before letting her go. My daughter had been stillborn at seven months, a tragic accident where the umbilical cord had wrapped around her neck. This memorial was supposed to be a fragile, digital balm for my shattered heart. Naturally, I called Thomas, asking him to come with me. But his voice through the receiver was flat, thick with irritation. “It’s all a marketing gimmick, Gemma. I already had a priest say a prayer for the baby. He’s in heaven now. Let it go.” He hung up before I could say another word. In the end, I went to the studio alone. When I finally stumbled out of the building, my eyes swollen and bloodshot from crying, I ran straight into Thomas. He was standing near the entrance, holding his graduate student, Serena, as she sobbed. They had just finished an AI memorial service for her deceased cat. A digital projection of a playful kitten was still bounding around their ankles. Serena, crying hysterically, threw her arms around Thomas’s neck. Thomas held her close, leaning down to gently kiss the tears from her face. That night, after wandering the freezing streets of Boston for hours, I returned home. The heels of my black pumps had worn my skin raw, and the biting wind had left me dizzy and feverish. The moment I crossed the threshold, I collapsed onto the sofa, my head spinning. A few minutes later, the front door opened. Thomas walked in carrying a bouquet of tulips and a boxed Mille-feuille pastry. Seeing me slumped on the sofa, he rushed over, kneeling before me and grasping my hands in a panic of guilt. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I was buried under peer reviews and thesis grading today, which is why I couldn’t make it to the studio. If you still want to do the service, I’ll take off work and go with you tomorrow. I promise.” He rambled on, but my mind was numb. My eyes drifted past him to the pastry box on the coffee table. When I had walked out of the memorial studio earlier, I had watched Thomas and Serena leave together. I couldn’t help myself; I had hailed a cab and followed them to the upscale shopping center downtown. I watched him take her to the very French bistro we had frequented since our college days. He ordered her favorite Mille-feuille, the exact dessert I loved. To cheer her up, he had bought her tulips from the boutique florist next door. I watched him smile, pluck the glazed cherry from the top of the pastry, and feed it to her. I had fled before the tears could blind me. Now, looking at the Mille-feuille on our coffee table, I saw the empty indentation where a single cherry had been plucked away. A bitter, dry burn rose in my throat. I pushed Thomas away, stood up without a word, and locked myself in the bedroom. He knocked on the door repeatedly, offering frantic apologies, saying he knew how much I was hurting after losing our baby and that he was a fool for prioritizing work. I buried my face in the duvet, sobbing until the pillows were soaked. Thomas slept on the sofa that night. He always did that. Whenever we had a disagreement, he would play the martyr, sleeping on the couch without even a blanket just to make me feel guilty. Usually, I would slip out of bed in the middle of the night, kick his leg to wake him up, and tell him to go to the guest room. By the next morning, the anger would be gone. But not tonight. I walked out silently and picked up his phone. The passcode was still my birthday. But his WhatsApp had a new pinned chat. I was number one, and Serena’s profile picture was number two. Unlike our dry, transactional messages about groceries or bills, his chat with Serena was alive, buzzing with messages every few minutes. It had started with academic questions, but quickly evolved into sharing their daily lives, meeting for breakfast before going to the clinic, and then, something far more intimate. She had sent him photos of herself in a silk slip, complaining about a bug bite on her neck. He had gone from short, professional replies to buying her soothing creams online. Last night, he had told me he had a breakthrough on a research paper and had to run to the clinic. In reality, Serena had messaged him: My cat passed away. I’m so heartbroken. I put the phone down, my tears spilling onto the cold screen. Later that night, he slipped into the bedroom, wrapping his arms around me and whispering, “I love you, wife,” before falling back asleep. I stared at his face, then quietly slipped out of bed, walked to the dining room, and tore the divorce papers I had drafted the night before into tiny pieces, throwing them in the trash. The next morning, he was gone, but he had left my favorite breakfast on the kitchen counter. My phone buzzed. It was Sasha, my best friend. “Did you talk to Thomas? What happened yesterday?” I had called her from the studio, so she knew I had seen him there. But I couldn’t bring myself to say the words out loud. I was still clinging to a desperate hope that it was all a misunderstanding. “I asked him,” I lied. “It was just a misunderstanding. She’s his student, and they ran into each other.” I turned off my phone, sat at the table, and began to eat. But as I chewed, my tears began to fall, splashing into my coffee cup. After breakfast, I called the assistant nurse at his dental clinic. “I’m ready to schedule my dental implant procedure. I can come in this afternoon.” Thomas is a dentist. In fact, he had chosen the profession because of me. As a child, I had terrible cavities and was absolutely terrified of dentists. When we were teenagers, Thomas had grown so frustrated with my tears that he declared, “Fine, I’ll become a dentist so I can fix your teeth myself.” After establishing his practice, he had imported a specialized titanium implant material from Switzerland, customized specifically for me, with a fifty-year warranty. I was supposed to get the procedure months ago, but my pregnancy had put it on hold. Now seemed like the right time, and it gave me an excuse to see Serena in person. But the nurse hesitated on the other end. “Oh, Gemma… Dr. Bennett already used that imported material for someone else.” My heart faltered. “Who?” “His new graduate student’s younger brother. The boy just finished his high school exams and needed the procedure before moving out of state for college.” I sat in silence, unable to process her words. It took her calling my name several times to bring me back. I muttered a quick thank you and hung up. I sat on the sofa for half an hour, staring at the wall, before dialing Thomas’s number. He answered almost instantly, his voice dripping with warmth. “Hey, sweetheart. Why are you calling at this hour?” “I was planning to come in for my implant today,” I said, keeping my voice remarkably level. “But your nurse told me you gave my customized Swiss material to your student’s brother. I wanted to ask what happened.” Thomas remained completely calm. “Ah, the nurse told you? That’s my fault, Gemma. I figured you wouldn’t be able to get the procedure this year anyway since you’re still recovering from the miscarriage. Serena’s brother really needed it before college. But don’t worry, I’ve already ordered another batch from Switzerland.” It was the first time in twenty years I had ever known Thomas to show such soft-hearted generosity to anyone other than me. He was naturally reserved, almost cold, barely speaking to his own parents. I opened my mouth, the bitter urge to scream rising in my chest. Did she beg you in your office? Did she beg you in your bed? But before the words could leave my throat, a sweet, youthful voice echoed on his end of the line. “Dr. Bennett, I’ve booked our table. Let’s go get lunch.” Without another word to me, Thomas hung up. Listening to the dial tone, the tears finally spilled over. At four in the afternoon, my phone rang again. “Sweetheart, some colleagues are gathering for drinks tonight, so I’ll be home late. Don’t wait up for me.” True to his new pattern, he hung up before I could reply. This time, I didn’t sit on the sofa and cry. I went to the bedroom, changed into a sleek dark dress, and took a cab straight to his clinic. I needed to see the truth with my own eyes. I arrived at six. The other dentists from his department waved to each other, getting into their cars in the parking garage and driving away. Thomas walked out, lit a cigarette, and stood by the entrance. Once he finished smoking, he took a detour to the secluded alley behind the clinic. Ten minutes later, Serena slipped out of the back door. The moment she saw him, she ran forward and threw herself into his arms. Thomas didn’t push her away. Instead, he cradled the back of her head and kissed her passionately. When she finally pulled back, breathless and flushed, she whispered something that made them both laugh. The scene looked agonizingly familiar. It was the exact mirror of when we were eighteen, hiding in the shadow of my parents’ house, sharing stolen kisses. I would push him away, blushing, saying, “Stop, what if my parents see us?” and Thomas would pull me back, growling, “Who cares? We’re adults.” Now, Thomas did the exact same thing. He pulled Serena back to him, deepening the kiss until they were both breathless. Then, holding her hand, he led her to the luxury SUV my parents had bought us as a wedding gift. They drove away. The cab driver turned to look at me in the rearview mirror. “Do you want me to follow them, ma’am?” My tears were silent, hot as they tracked down my face. “No. Take me to Sasha’s law firm, please.” When I walked into Sasha’s office holding a six-pack of beer, she looked up from her desk in surprise. “Gemma? What are you doing here? I have three divorce files to draft tonight, I don’t have time to listen to you brag about your husband.” I set the beer on her desk, cracked open a can, and took a long swig. “Let me skip the line. I need a divorce.” Sasha’s pen slipped from her fingers, clattering onto the hardwood floor.

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I fell in love with Beckett from the varsity swim team at first sight. My roommate encouraged me to go after him, eagerly offering to act as my wingman. She coached me on how to be sweet, how to flirt, and insisted that I call him “handsome” every time we crossed paths. She even went so far as to buy me a form-fitting swimsuit, telling me to wear it to ask Beckett for private swimming lessons. But despite chasing him relentlessly for two months, to the point where even his teammates were starting to root for me, he remained completely indifferent. It wasn’t until today that my roommate giggled, stuck her tongue out, and finally confessed. “To be honest, that online boyfriend I told you about? It’s actually Beckett. I only had you pursue him to test his loyalty. But I never expected him to be so strong. He managed to reject a total catch like you. I’m sorry, sweetie, but I guess I can’t let you have him after all.” 1 The dormitory fan buzzed overhead, cutting through the heavy afternoon heat. I sat frozen in my desk chair, my mind completely blank as I tried to process Sienna’s words. “What do you mean, your online boyfriend is Beckett?” “Oh, Sweetie, you aren’t actually mad, are you?” Seeing my lack of response, Sienna set down her vanity mirror and stuck her tongue out playfully. “Honestly, it’s because you’re just so gorgeous.” “Think of it as vetting him for your best friend. You were the one who kept saying you were worried I’d get scammed online, so now you know his character is absolutely solid.” I clenched my fists, my fingernails biting into my palms as the sharp sting of betrayal began to spread. Sienna had started dating a guy online over the summer. She had told me he was a sports major at Kensington University, our own school. Halfway through the summer, she had been desperate to cut her vacation short and fly back to meet him in person. Afraid she would get taken advantage of, I had spent days convincing her to wait until the semester started. I had no idea the guy was Beckett. “Why didn’t you tell me from the beginning?” When I finally spoke, my voice was incredibly hoarse. Sienna offered a breezy, dismissive laugh. “I was insecure, okay? Beckett is handsome, wealthy, and you are so dazzling. When you told me you fell for him at first sight, I genuinely wanted to help you. I just had no idea he was already so deeply in love with me.” I stared at her face, a wave of intense humiliation washing over me. For the last two months, Sienna had eagerly acted as my wingman. She knew every text I sent him, every conversation we had, and every time we crossed paths. She had analyzed his favorite foods, his hobbies, and his ideal type for me. She had urged me to leave breakfast outside his dorm, to arrange “accidental” meetings at the gym. She had even purchased a form-fitting swimsuit for me, insisting I wear it to ask him for swimming tips. And all the while, she was dating him behind my back. I was nothing but a puppet to her. A clown in her private show. “Iris, seriously, don’t be like this,” Sienna said, crossing her arms and sighing as if my silence were completely unreasonable. I had always valued our friendship. Whenever she adopted that wounded expression, I would back down to keep the peace. But not today. “So what do you want? Should I just hand him over to you?” I looked up at her. “Fine. He’s yours.” Sienna blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Are you joking?” Before I could answer, she quickly added, “Oh, come on. My best friend would never try to steal my boyfriend. Besides, they say best friends and partners never get along. Once you see him again, you’ll probably realize you can’t stand him.” I watched her in silence, refusing to offer her the comfort of an argument. Suddenly, the dormitory door was kicked open with a loud bang. 2 Our roommate, Valerie, burst into the room, panting. “Ladies! The swim finals are about to start! Why are you two still sitting in the dorm?” I blinked, momentarily disoriented. I had almost forgotten. This afternoon was the university swim championship. Last night, Valerie and our other roommate, Tessa, had spent hours planning a grand post-race confession for me to deliver to Beckett. I looked over at Sienna, who was wearing a flawless face of makeup. No wonder she had remained so uncharacteristically quiet during our brainstorming session last night. “I’m not going,” I said flatly. “What? Why?” Valerie asked, pausing as she searched her bag. Sienna’s expression shifted instantly. She grabbed my hand, her eyes pleading. “Iris, please. I want to surprise him today. You promised you’d be there when I finally met my online boyfriend. I’ll be too nervous without you. Please come with me.” Before I could shake her off, Valerie grabbed my other arm. “Exactly! Let’s go! Tessa has been saving a prime seat for you since early morning, making sure you’re the very first person Beckett sees when he climbs out of the pool!” The refusal died in my throat when I caught the smug, triumphant glint in Sienna’s eyes. I had done nothing wrong. If she wasn’t afraid of a confrontation, why should I be? Valerie was always impatient. Without waiting to see if Sienna could keep up in her platform heels, she dragged me out of the dorm and sprinted toward the natatorium. 3 By the time we arrived at the pool, we had left Sienna far behind. Tess immediately stood up, waving us over to the front-row seat she had secured. “I came straight here after my morning lecture. Pretty impressive, right?” I forced a tight smile. “Thank you, Tess.” Valerie shrugged, settling into the seat beside me. “Of course. Though, there’s a senior from the law department competing today. He’s incredibly popular, and I hear his times are insane. I’m not sure Beckett can pull off a win. Iris, if he loses, are you still going to confess?” I looked down at the staging area where Beckett was standing. He was staring at his phone, looking thoroughly distracted. One of his teammates spotted me and nudged his shoulder, pointing in our direction. Beckett glanced up, his brow furrowing as he saw me. I let out a quiet, self-deprecating laugh. During my months of pursuing him, I had been too blinded by my crush to realize his cool indifference was actually irritation. Even the sight of me was enough to make him frown. Before he could catch me staring, I turned back to Valerie. “No. I won’t be confessing.” Valerie nodded understandingly. “That makes sense. It’s probably awkward to confess right after a loss. We can always wait for the next meet.” I shook my head. “Whether he wins or loses, I am never confessing to him again.” 4 Valerie and Tess stared at me in absolute shock. “Actually,” I began, my voice tight, “Beckett is—” “Why didn’t you guys wait for me?” Sienna’s complaining voice cut me off as she finally caught up, her face flushed from running. Valerie squeezed closer to Tess, gesturing to the small space beside her. “I was worried Iris would miss the warm-ups. Sit down, the introductions are starting.” Sienna didn’t sit. Instead, she stood directly in front of me, pouty-lipped. “Iris, do you mind letting me have your seat?” Val and Tess looked at her as if she had lost her mind. “The race is about to start, stop joking around,” Valerie said, grabbing Sienna’s arm and pulling her firmly into the empty seat. Over the loudspeaker, the announcer began introducing the swimmers. Sienna bit her lip, shooting me a sharp glare before reluctantly settling into her seat. It was almost amusing. She was the one who had insisted I come to witness her grand reveal, yet now she was furious that I was sitting in the front row. Beckett was assigned to lane two. The student broadcaster happened to be Beckett’s roommate, and when his name was called, the camera on the jumbotron panned directly to my face. Thanks to Sienna’s constant encouragement, my pursuit of Beckett was public knowledge. She had always told me that a bold chase was the most romantic, which led to my confessions being shared on the campus forum. “Ooh!” Valerie and Tess led the crowd in a playful cheer. Normally, I would have smiled and waved for the camera. Today, I simply looked away, my expression completely blank. As I turned my head, I noticed Sienna’s hand tightening around her plastic water bottle until it bent out of shape. The announcer continued down the lanes. When the final swimmer was introduced, a sudden, loud murmur swept through the spectator stands. “Oh my god, it’s Sebastian Kingsley!” Tess gasped, jumping to her feet. I looked down at the tall, broad-shouldered senior stepping up to lane eight. In that instant, a realization washed over me. I hadn’t actually been in love with Beckett. I had simply been attracted to tall, athletic, good-looking guys. And Sebastian was all of those things, and more. Even with his hair tucked beneath a plain black swim cap, his sharp features and effortless grace were undeniable. Tess nudged me, her eyes sparkling. “Well? Sebastian is easily on par with Beckett, right?” “Better,” I murmured, watching him step onto the block. “Much better.” Sienna let out a sharp, cold scoff from beside us. Tess shot her a glare. “Do you have a problem?”

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1 When my mother was pregnant with me, the Harrington family was teetering on the edge of bankruptcy. But the moment her pregnancy test came back positive, our family’s fortune shifted as if a divine hand had cleared our path. Warehouse stock that had been collecting dust for months sold out to a major European client within a week. A massive joint venture that had been stalled for six months was suddenly signed, with the partner voluntarily cutting their own profit share by two percent. Even our banks reached out, offering long-term loans with unprecedentedly low interest rates. My grandfather declared I was the family’s golden child, our lucky star. On the day I was born, he transferred twenty percent of the company’s shares directly to my name and announced to the entire board: “This child will be the future head of Harrington Enterprises.” Because of this, I grew up shielded from the harsh realities of the world, never having to compromise on anything. Until my twentieth birthday. My brother brought a woman named Vivian home to our estate for the party. While my brother went back inside to grab some dessert for me, she stood behind me near the edge of the outdoor pool. Without warning, she kicked me straight into the freezing water. “You’re just a girl destined to be married off to some other family anyway,” she sneered as I splashed. “What makes you think you have any right to inherit the Harrington empire?” I hauled myself out of the pool, dripping wet, shivering as the cold wind hit my skin. I glared at her, my voice laced with ice. “I don’t care who you are, sweetheart, but you might want to start planning your own funeral.” Vivian blinked, as if she had just heard the most ridiculous joke in the world. She let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Who do you think you’re threatening? You’re just a spoiled brat Grandfather ruined. You think you’re invincible?” Before I could tear her apart verbally, my brother, Austin, walked out carrying a plate of mango mousse. The moment he saw me standing by the edge of the pool, dripping wet, his face went completely white. He dropped the plate, the porcelain shattering on the stone tile, and rushed over. “Audrey! What happened? How did you fall in?” He immediately threw his tailored blazer around my shoulders, his hands hovering over my face in panic. “Are you alright? Come on, let’s get you inside to change.” I pushed his hands away, refusing to speak. I kept my eyes locked on Vivian. Vivian’s demeanor changed in a heartbeat. Her eyes welled with tears, her shoulders trembling delicately. “Austin… the moment you walked away, Audrey accused me of trying to steal her spotlight. She threatened to throw me into the pool. I was so terrified that I pushed her back, and she fell… Austin, please don’t be mad at me.” Austin’s brows furrowed as he turned to look at me. “Audrey, is that true?” Looking at my brother, completely blinded by this woman’s pathetic act, I let out a dry, humorless laugh. We had grown up under the same roof for twenty years. He knew my character, my pride. Yet he believed a stranger over me without a second thought. It was truly pathetic. I pushed my wet hair back from my forehead. “No. She kicked me in.” Austin’s face hardened instantly. He turned back to Vivian. “Vivian, is that true? Did you kick Audrey?” Vivian sobbed harder, her body practically collapsing into Austin’s chest. “Austin, please believe me, I would never… I just met her today. We have no history. Why would I do something so horrible to your sister?” She wept so violently she seemed to lose her breath, clinging to his shirt. “If Audrey doesn’t want me here, I’ll just leave. I don’t want to cause trouble…” Austin, completely intoxicated by her tears, didn’t question a single word. He wrapped his arms tightly around her waist and glared at me. “Audrey, you’ve gone too far! Even if you don’t like Vivian, you shouldn’t lie like this to ruin her reputation!” My heart went entirely cold. I didn’t cry, and I didn’t scream. I just looked at him and smiled. “So, you believe her over me?” Austin’s scowl deepened, his tone dripping with impatience. “Audrey, Vivian is gentle and honest. She wouldn’t lie about this. If you felt threatened by her presence, you could have just told me and I would have taken her home. You didn’t need to resort to such a cheap, vindictive trick.” A dull, suffocating pain bloomed in my chest. This man, the brother I had trusted for two decades, felt like an absolute stranger. I took off his damp blazer and threw it at his feet. “Austin, I am telling you one last time: she kicked me. I am not lying.” Seeing my anger, Vivian let a tiny, triumphant smirk slip across her lips before burying her face back into Austin’s neck. “Austin, look at her… she’s so aggressive. Maybe I really should just go before I ruin your family.” She made a show of trying to pull away, stumbling slightly for dramatic effect. Austin held her fast, his gaze toward me turning into pure resentment. “Audrey, stop making a scene, alright? Today is your birthday. There are hundreds of guests inside. Do you have to make things so ugly? Look, just apologize to Vivian, and we can put this behind us. I won’t even tell Mom, Dad, or Grandfather.” Apologize? I almost laughed out loud. I was the one who had been assaulted, and now I was being ordered to apologize to the culprit? What kind of warped logic was this? I wiped the remaining water from my cheek. “Austin, you can be as blind as you want, but I am not stupid. Apologize to her? In your dreams.” I turned toward the mansion. “But since you’ve chosen to protect her, make sure you’re ready to handle the consequences.” Inside the estate, our butler gasped when he saw me. He immediately ordered the maids to fetch warm towels, a dry dress, and running hot water for a bath. Sitting in front of the vanity, looking at my reflection, my gaze slowly turned to steel. Since the day I was born, everyone had credited our success to my good luck. It had allowed my family to assume that my achievements were just the universe throwing me a bone. Perhaps it was time to show my claws. It was time to prove that my position in this family wasn’t built on luck, but on raw, unyielding capability. Vivian thought I was just a girl to be discarded. She thought the Harrington empire belonged to Austin. I was going to show her exactly what this “discarded girl” was capable of, and whether her precious heir could actually protect her when the storm hit. By the time I changed and walked back downstairs, the grand ballroom was still filled with music, laughter, and expensive champagne. Grandfather was sitting on a velvet sofa, conversing with several prominent board members. Seeing me, he immediately waved me over. “Audrey, sweetheart, come here. Say hello to Mr. Barlow.” I walked over, offering a polite smile. Grandfather took my hand, his brow furrowing as he felt my skin. “Why are your hands so cold? Where have you been?” Before I could answer, Austin and Vivian walked into the ballroom from the terrace. Vivian’s eyes were still red, her hand resting delicately on Austin’s arm, playing the perfect victim. Austin walked up to Grandfather, smoothing over the tension with a casual tone. “Grandfather, there was a minor misunderstanding out by the pool. Vivian accidentally bumped Audrey into the water. Audrey was a bit shaken up, which is why she took so long to come back down.” With one sentence, he dismissed a deliberate assault as an accident, and framed my absence as a childish tantrum. Vivian bowed her head, her voice soft and trembling. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Harrington. It was entirely my fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going. Please don’t blame Austin.” Grandfather’s expression darkened instantly. He turned to me. “Audrey, tell me what happened.” I stood close to Grandfather, resting my hand on his arm, and recounted the entire event calmly. I didn’t exaggerate, and I didn’t leave anything out. I repeated Vivian’s exact words. Grandfather’s face grew black as thunder. He slammed his heavy mahogany cane against the marble floor. The loud crack echoed through the massive ballroom. The music stopped, and the chatter died instantly. Every eye in the room turned toward Austin and Vivian. Austin’s face pale, but he tried to stand his ground. “Grandfather, that’s not true. Vivian would never say those things. Audrey must have misheard.” “Misheard?” I looked at Austin, a cold smile playing on my lips. “There are high-definition security cameras facing the pool. Let’s pull up the footage and see who is telling the truth.” Grandfather slammed his hand on the armrest. “Exactly. Project the security footage onto the main ballroom screens right now.” The butler, who had been waiting nearby, immediately went to execute the order. But less than two minutes later, he returned, his face pale and his voice barely a whisper. “Sir… the security feed for the pool terrace… the lines were cut. They’ve been offline since last week.” The ballroom fell into a suffocating silence. The color returned to Vivian’s face. She looked at me with a sudden surge of arrogance, stepping out from behind Austin. “Audrey… you insisted there was footage. But the cameras have been broken for a week. You must have known that. What are you trying to do? Are you trying to drive me to suicide just to get your way?” Austin seized the opportunity, his brow furrowing with disappointment. “Audrey, Vivian already apologized for the accident. Why must you keep dragging this out? I tried to save your dignity, but you insist on making a scene. I suggest you drop it while you still can.” I looked at Vivian’s smug expression, and the final piece of the puzzle clicked into place. Out of all the cameras on this massive estate, only the pool terrace was offline. And Vivian just happened to attack me in that exact blind spot. If this wasn’t a coordinated setup, I was a fool. But with hundreds of high-profile guests watching, dragging out a dispute without concrete proof would only make me look hysterical. It would damage my standing as the heir. I suppressed the fury burning in my chest and let out a soft, mocking laugh. “Fine. Since the cameras are convenient offline, it’s my word against yours. Arguing further would only make me look like a bully.” I raised my glass to the room, my voice carrying clearly across the silent hall. “I apologize for the disruption, everyone. It was just a minor misunderstanding. Please, enjoy the rest of the evening.” The guests, relieved by the transition, quickly picked up their conversations, though their curious glances still drifted toward us. Grandfather’s hands were shaking with anger, his knuckles white on his cane. I squeezed his hand gently, whispering, “We will handle this tonight, Grandpa. Let’s keep up appearances for the guests first.” Looking at my calm, calculated expression, Grandfather managed to suppress his rage. He glared at Austin and Vivian, dismissively waving his hand. “I am too old for these childish dramas. I am retiring for the night. But let it be known; if I find out anyone has laid a hand on my granddaughter, they will learn exactly how ruthless I can be.” With that, his assistants escorted him upstairs. Once the crowd dispersed, Vivian walked over to me, a sickeningly sweet smile on her face. She reached out to touch my arm. “Audrey, thank you for being so understanding…” I stepped back, avoiding her touch entirely. I walked past her without granting her a single glance. My retreat wasn’t out of fear. It was strategy. I knew that without proof, throwing a tantrum would only play into their hands. It was far better to let them believe they had won, to let them grow careless, while I uncovered who was pulling the strings. For the rest of the night, I played the perfect host, laughing and drinking with our associates. Austin tried to approach me several times, but I avoided him effortlessly. Believing I had accepted defeat, he spent the rest of the night introducing Vivian to our extended family, practically presenting her as the future lady of the estate. Looking at them, I realized my brother was entirely unfit to run this company. A man with his temperament would bankrupt Harrington Enterprises within two years. As soon as the party ended, I called my personal assistant, Alistair, into my study. Alistair had been with me for years; he was brilliant, highly capable, and fiercely loyal. He had managed all my private investments outside the family firm, a secret known only to Grandfather. “Ms. Harrington, you called?” Alistair asked, noting my tense expression. I sat at my desk and laid out everything that had happened by the pool. “I need you to investigate two things immediately. First, Vivian. I want her entire background; her family, her education, how she met Austin, and every detail of her schedule. Leave nothing out. Second, find out who was responsible for the estate’s security maintenance this past week. Find out who handled the pool terrace lines, and who authorized leaving them offline.” Alistair took swift notes. “Should we keep this from your brother?” “Absolutely,” I replied, taking a slow sip of water. “Keep it from my parents as well. This investigation must be entirely silent.” “Understood. I’ll have the initial reports by tomorrow morning.” “One more thing,” I added, recalling Vivian’s arrogance. “Check if Austin has been in contact with any outside investment firms lately, particularly those hostile to Harrington Enterprises. And run a check on his personal accounts for any massive, unusual transactions.” I wanted to believe in family. But his behavior tonight went far beyond being blinded by infatuation. If he was merely stupidly in love, I could handle him. But if he was actively plotting to destroy our family legacy… Well, he had just earned a permanent spot on my blacklist.

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I had managed to score tickets to the World Cup, which was my fiancé’s absolute favorite sporting event. I rushed to his office, eager to surprise him, but as I approached his door, I overheard his close friend trying to reason with him. “Elena cleared her entire schedule to watch the games with you. She went through absolute hell to get those tickets. It really isn’t right for you to take Giselle instead.” Stefan took a slow drag from his cigarette, his tone entirely indifferent as he replied, “Watching the game with Elena is boring. I’m used to having Giselle with me for every World Cup.” Boring. Used to it. Those words felt like a dozen sharp slaps across my face, mocking the twelve years I had spent by his side. In our twelve years together, there had been three World Cups. The first two times, he had gone with Giselle. I had cried, I had fought, and each time he had held me close, whispering, “Giselle and I grew up together, Elly. It’s just a habit. She was there before you came along. Please, honey, next time I promise it will be just the two of us.” I believed him. I waited four long years. Yet, when the time came, his habits still had no room for me. I stared down at the pristine tickets in my hand, a quiet laugh escaping my lips. Then, I tore them down the middle and tossed them into the trash can. Twelve years of running alongside him, only to realize I was nothing but a spectator. It really was boring. 1 When Stefan came home that evening, he was carrying Giselle’s fluffy white Persian cat, Honey. “Elly, do you mind watching Honey for a few weeks?” He only looked up after he finished speaking, his expression hardening when he saw the open suitcase on the floor. “Stop packing,” he said, his voice flat. “For Giselle’s birthday last month, her only wish was for us to watch this World Cup together. I already promised her.” His tone was gentle, but there was no room for discussion. It was a simple notification of a decision already made. I didn’t answer, quietly tucking my birth certificate and social security card into the secure lining of my suitcase. Our parents had sent them from my hometown two weeks ago, intended for our marriage registration next month. Now, I realized a clean break was far better than a messy divorce. Without looking at him, I said quietly, “You promised me four years ago that you would take me this time.” “You can’t compare the two,” he said, his voice rising slightly. “Giselle is a guest. When you make a promise to an outsider, you have to keep it.” I stopped folding my clothes and looked up at him. “Out of the three of us, I am the outsider.” Stefan’s jaw tightened. “Are you being petty and jealous again? Please, not this. Giselle and I grew up together. I’ve told you a thousand times that our friendship is completely innocent. We’re getting married next month. Do you really have zero trust in me? You are exhausting me, Elena.” He rubbed his temples, adopting the same weary expression he always wore whenever Giselle’s name came up. I kept my voice calm and even. “I am exhausted too. If you are used to having her by your side, then go with her. I won’t stop you.” Stefan blinked, momentarily taken aback by my lack of an argument. Assuming I had surrendered just like every other time, he let out a long sigh of relief. “Don’t overthink things. I’ll bring you back a nice souvenir.” The white cat jumped out of his arms, wandering over to sniff at my suitcase. “Giselle’s family is on vacation, and my parents can’t stand cat hair,” Stefan explained. “She couldn’t find anyone else to watch Honey on such short notice. It’s only for a little while.” She takes my fiancé, and I watch her cat. It was almost comical. Suddenly, Stefan’s phone rang. From the sudden softness in his eyes, I knew it was Giselle. He turned and headed toward the study, pausing at the threshold to call back to me. 2 “The cat has been crying. She must be hungry. Giselle mentioned she likes steamed salmon. Could you prepare some for her?” After twelve years, his tone when speaking to me had become as casual as if he were instructing a maid. Before I could even open my mouth to respond, he stepped into the study and shut the door behind him. I went back to packing my things. My company had granted me a three-day transition period to hand over my projects. In three days, I would be leaving this city, and the man I had loved for over a decade, far behind. Passing by the study, I heard Stefan’s voice coming through the thin door. He was on a video call, and Giselle’s bright laughter echoed in the quiet hallway. “Elena has been with me for twelve years,” Stefan was saying, a trace of smug confidence in his voice. “She’s always been submissive. She won’t make a scene. Just focus on enjoying the trip with me.” I stood frozen in the hallway, my heart turning completely cold. From the age of eighteen to thirty, my entire world had revolved around him. I had always been the understanding, sensible girlfriend his friends praised. Even when we fought over Giselle, I kept our arguments private, preserving his dignity in front of others. But my silence had only become his license to walk all over me. I let out a quiet breath. I would never be submissive again, Stefan. While gathering my belongings, I noticed that one of my handmade herbal sleep pillows was missing. My job carried an immense amount of pressure, and my sleep quality had always been poor. To help me sleep, my grandmother had traveled to a distant town to find an old herbalist who specialized in hand-stuffed sleep pillows, bringing back two of them for me. On her journey back, she was tragically killed in a highway accident. Since that day, those pillows had become my most cherished keepsakes of her. Stefan walked out of the study, grabbing his keys to head out. I called out to him. “Have you seen my other sleep pillow?” He paused, thinking for a second. “Check the guest room where Giselle stays. If it isn’t there, she must have taken it to her apartment.” We had lived in this two-bedroom apartment for seven years. Initially, we rented it, but we eventually bought it from the landlord. I had always thought a one-bedroom place would be perfect for us, but he had insisted on a two-bedroom unit, claiming we needed space for occasional guests. Yet, in all these years, he had never allowed any of his friends to stay over, even when they were too drunk to drive. He always insisted on booking them a hotel room. The only person who had ever stayed in that guest room was Giselle. Every time she drank too much, he would bring her back here. When I suggested booking her a room or taking her home, he always argued that it wasn’t safe for a single woman to stay in a hotel alone. He knew how much it hurt me, but he continued to let her sleep in our home, often making the decision without consulting me first. Later, because of my protests, he even installed security cameras in the common areas, claiming the footage would prove their absolute innocence. Over the years, that guest room had slowly filled with her personal belongings, lipsticks, socks, jewelry, and even delicate undergarments. In the past, I would have thrown a furious tantrum over these things. Today, I simply walked into the guest room, saw that the pillow wasn’t there, and quietly walked out. Without a word, I took my car keys and drove straight to Giselle’s apartment. Giselle opened her door, her eyes widening in mock surprise when she saw me. “Oh, Elena! What a surprise. This is the very first time you’ve ever visited my place.” She smiled, stepping back to let me in. “I’m just here to retrieve my pillow,” I said, my voice empty of emotion. She offered a sweet smile, turning toward the kitchen to fetch some water. But as she turned, I saw her thumbs flying across her phone screen. No doubt she was messaging Stefan to complain about my sudden arrival. “Don’t worry about the water,” I called out. “I’m leaving as soon as I get my things.” She walked back into the living room, tapping her chin as if trying to recall where she had put it. 3 “Why don’t you check the guest bedroom on the right?” she suggested, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. “That’s where Stefan slept the other night.” My chest tightened. I had never known that Stefan stayed overnight at her place. As I walked past her balcony, my eyes caught a line of laundry drying in the afternoon sun. Hanging right beside her delicate dresses were Stefan’s shirts and underwear, placed so closely together that they touched. Giselle followed my gaze, offering a casual, breezy explanation. “Oh, Stefan got absolutely trashed the other night. He ended up ruining his clothes, so I had to wash them for him.” It was a blatant provocation. In the past, she had always played the innocent childhood friend, swearing up and down that they were nothing more than siblings. But over the last two years, she had dropped the act entirely, adopting a smug, untouchable attitude. Now, she was openly challenging me, waiting for me to lose my mind so she could run to Stefan for comfort. I simply looked away and said, “I see.” On her kitchen counter sat a premium coffee blend that Stefan drank religiously. It was just like our own kitchen, which was always stocked with Giselle’s preferred health supplements. My calmness seemed to catch her off guard. A shadow of disappointment crossed her face when I didn’t start screaming. I followed her into the second bedroom. The moment I stepped inside, my eyes were drawn to the headboard wall. It was covered in a massive, heart-shaped collage of photographs featuring her and Stefan. There were candid snapshots from their childhood, graduation pictures, and professional studio portraits. In the very center was a large portrait of Giselle in a flowing white gown and veil, holding hands with Stefan in a tailored suit as they ran through a meadow. It wasn’t a wedding portrait, but it was designed to look exactly like one. In every single picture, Stefan’s smile was radiant and completely unforced. “Giselle and I have so many beautiful memories together,” she murmured, watching me closely. “They certainly are beautiful,” I replied quietly, my heart completely numb. She smirked. “You should join us sometime, Elena. Though, I suppose three can get a bit crowded.” “A game meant for two is never fun with a third,” I replied, turning my gaze back to her. “Where is the pillow?” Sensing that her psychological games weren’t working, Giselle’s smile turned rigid. She opened her wardrobe, casually moving aside several of Stefan’s shirts. “Giselle is so careless. I really need to have a talk with him about leaving his things everywhere.” “You don’t need to explain anything to me. I’m only here for the pillow.” She reached for the bed, pulling back the heavy comforter to reveal a set of matching pink silk pillowcases. Resting right beside them was a partially used box of thin condoms. 4 Giselle stood by the bed, her eyes shining with anticipation as she waited for my tears, my rage, or my breakdown. I remained completely indifferent. “I have places to be. Please hurry up.” “Let’s check the walk-in closet then,” she said, her tone growing strained as she led me to the adjacent room. On the floor of the closet sat an open suitcase. Packets of summer clothes were neatly organized inside, and resting right on top was a fresh, unopened box of the exact same brand of condoms. Giselle smoothed down her dress, her voice dripping with artificial sympathy. “I’m packing for our trip tomorrow. The World Cup only happens once every four years, you know. Some people spend their entire lives trying to squeeze into a world where they don’t belong, forgetting that the seating arrangements are decided from the very beginning.” My patience finally ran out. I looked her dead in the eye, my voice cold and sharp. “I am only here to get my pillow. As for Stefan, you can keep him. I am throwing him away.” She gasped, her face instantly shifting into a mask of wounded innocence. “Elena, what are you saying? Please don’t misunderstand me. I was only talking about the soccer tournament.” “I asked you where my pillow is.” She hesitated, her eyes darting around before she muttered, “I remember now. Follow me.” She led me to a third, smaller room that had been converted into a playroom for her cat. The moment I stepped inside, my eyes fell upon my grandmother’s hand-stitched, light green herbal pillow. It was sitting directly inside the cat’s litter box, soaked through with urine and smelling foul. Giselle let out a soft sigh, her voice half-innocent and half-mocking. “Oh dear, my cat is so mischievous. It’s just a pillow, Elena. I’ll buy you a much better one to make up for it. Stefan really spoils that cat too much.” I spun around, pouring every ounce of my pain and betrayal into my right hand, and slapped her hard across the face. “You did that on purpose,” I spat. “Elena!” A furious roar echoed from the doorway. Stefan rushed into the room, shoving me aside to pull Giselle into his arms. He cradled her face, staring with immense worry at the red mark blooming on her cheek. Giselle began to weep, her tears flowing perfectly as she whimpered, “Stefan, please don’t yell at her. It was my fault.” Stefan glared at me, his eyes blazing with fury. “It is just a damn pillow! Have you completely lost your mind?” My eyes burned, but I refused to let a single tear fall. I raised my hand once more and struck Stefan across the face with all my remaining strength. “Yes,” I choked out, my voice trembling with rage. “I have.” Stefan’s face was thrown to the side, a bright red handprint rising on his cheek. He stared at me in absolute shock. “Are you insane?” “I was insane to waste twelve years of my life loving a man like you!” I turned and walked out of the apartment. Behind me, his angry voice echoed down the corridor. “Don’t you dare walk away! Stop throwing these childish tantrums!”

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1 I’ve always been obsessed with hunting for bargains on secondhand apps. It wasn’t a hobby; it was a survival tactic to keep our heads above water. Marcus would hold me close, his voice thick with guilt. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’m useless. I hate seeing you live like this.” I would brush it off with a smile. “Don’t worry about it. Secondhand stuff works just as well. Why pay retail when you can get the exact same thing for a fraction of the price?” One evening, I was scrolling through a thrift app, looking for a Lego set my six-year-old son, Toby, had been begging for. That’s when I stumbled across a seller who seemed too good to be true. Her profile was filled with high-end baby gear, designer clothes, and toys, all listed at throwaway prices. I messaged her immediately about the Lego set. She was incredibly sweet. When she found out I was a struggling mom, she even threw in a brand-new skateboard for free. Over the next few weeks, I bought several more things from her. Curiosity got the better of me, and I asked why she sold such valuable items for next to nothing. She laughed and said she didn’t need the money. Her husband absolutely adored her, showering her and their son with new gifts almost every day. She simply had no room to store it all, so she cleared it out online. We eventually added each other on Instagram. Her feed was a constant stream of domestic bliss, romantic gestures, and family outings. I watched from the sidelines, occasionally leaving a supportive comment, genuinely happy for her. Then came the photo that shattered my world. It was a shot from a family vacation. A young boy was piggybacking on a man’s back, turning toward the camera to flash a bright grin. My breath caught. The boy’s face. The man’s broad shoulders. I froze. My hands trembled so violently I almost dropped the phone. I zoomed in, closer and closer. The boy’s face was a miniature, carbon copy of my husband’s. And the man’s back… I had stared at those shoulders every night for eight years. I knew every curve, every line. I tried to scream at myself that it was just a bizarre coincidence, but the wall of denial crumbled instantly. I exited the app, my chest aching. I took a slow, shuddering breath, forcing down the urge to scream at Marcus. Instead, I went back to the thrift app and dug deeper. Using her seller handle, I tracked down her public Instagram account. Her name was Isla. I stared at her profile picture: two hands with fingers tightly locked together. Her bio read: M_and_I_Forever. Marcus and Isla. M and I. Mine. A cold, hollow laugh escaped my throat. There were over two thousand posts, a meticulous, sun-drenched archive of her perfect life with Marcus. Unlike her private accounts where he was kept in the shadows, here his face was proudly on display. I scrolled down, my heart sinking deeper into a cold, dark void with every swipe. Isla hadn’t been bragging; Marcus really did worship her. He bought her bespoke jewelry, took her on spontaneous trips to Paris and Rome, and spared no expense. I stared at Isla in her designer dresses, her flawless blowout, and her glittering diamonds. Then I looked down at my own faded, thrice-patched cotton dress. A suffocating lump rose in my throat. Marcus didn’t just have another family. He was worth millions. Yet, he played the part of a struggling blue-collar worker in front of me, claiming he made barely three thousand dollars a month at a dead-end desk job. I had starved my own needs, scrimped, and saved out of love for him, while he threw gold at her feet. What a pathetic joke. “Mom, look at the Lego castle I built!” Toby ran in, tugging my sleeve to show off his creation. Looking at his bright, innocent eyes, I had to swallow the bitter tears threatening to spill. My sweet boy had no idea that the secondhand toy he treated like gold was just a piece of trash Marcus had bought for another child, only discarded when the other boy grew bored of it. Isla’s son, Ollie, was only six months younger than Toby, but he looked so much healthier, taller, and stronger. He was a child raised on organic food, premium care, and effortless luxury. When Toby was a baby, my milk had dried up from stress. We couldn’t afford the organic formula, so I bought the cheapest generic brand on the shelf. As he grew, I tried to make sure he got enough protein, but with our tight budget, I had to ration our meals. Toby had always been smaller than his classmates. Marcus knew all of this. He had watched our son struggle and chose to do nothing. They say love is reflected in where a person spends their money. Marcus’s love was never with us. So, we wouldn’t give him ours anymore. I knelt down, brushing Toby’s hair out of his eyes. “Hey bud, how about we go to the diner for burgers and milkshakes? And then, we’re going to the store to buy you a brand-new Lego set.” Toby gasped, his face lighting up. “Really, Mom? I literally dreamed about chocolate milkshakes last night!” My heart shattered. “But Mom…” Toby looked back at the secondhand Lego on the table, his smile faltering. “If we spend all that money, will we have enough for the rent? We don’t need a new toy. This one is still really fun.” Seeing a six-year-old child worry about rent, seeing him learn to settle for crumbs, made me physically sick. “Toby, Mom has plenty of money. Don’t worry about a thing. Just be happy, okay?” I held him so tight I thought he might pop. When we got back, Marcus was already home. He stared at the brand-new Lego box and the bag of fresh groceries, a flash of cold annoyance crossing his face. “I just gave you the household budget for the month, Naomi. Why are you suddenly throwing money away like this? Since when did you become so irresponsible?” I kept my voice calm. “Toby, go play in your room for a bit, sweetie.” Toby looked at his father’s tense face, then ran into his room without a word. I turned to Marcus. “Irresponsible? Our son is six years old, and this is the first time in his life he’s ever owned a toy that didn’t belong to someone else first. You think that’s irresponsible?” Marcus flinched, pulling at his collar. “Naomi, that’s not what I meant. We just don’t have the budget for luxury items…” “Stop it, Marcus. Aren’t you tired of playing this stupid game?” I interrupted, my voice sharp. He blinked, his brow furrowing. “Naomi, what are you talking about? I don’t understand.” I didn’t want to waste another breath. I unlocked my phone, opened Isla’s Instagram page, and shoved it right in front of his face. “Eight years, Marcus. I had no idea I was married to such a calculating liar.” Marcus went completely pale. “No, Naomi, I can explain… I… I was going to tell you.” “Explain? Explain how you built a second family during our second year of marriage? Explain how you have millions in the bank while your wife and son live like beggars? Or explain how Isla and her son are the ones you actually care about?” “Naomi, don’t be so dramatic,” Marcus said, tearing off his tie in frustration. “Dramatic?” I laughed, the sound hollow and sharp. “While you were throwing thousands at Isla, I was fighting for pennies on thrift apps. While you took them around the world, I was losing sleep over the electric bill.” I pointed at the dusty box of secondhand Legos. “Do you know what that is? That’s the garbage Isla’s son threw away. Toby treated it like a treasure. Is Toby not your son? How could you do this to him?” A flicker of genuine guilt crossed Marcus’s eyes. He reached out to grab my hand, but I stepped back, leaving him clutching empty air. “Naomi, do you have to be so stubborn?” he grumbled, his guilt morphing into irritation. When I didn’t answer, his voice softened. “Look, whatever Isla and Ollie have, I promise you and Toby will have it too. I swear.” “Really? Transfer fifty thousand dollars to my account right now, then.” I held up my banking app. “You… money, money, money. Is that all you care about?” Marcus snapped, turning on his heel and storming out of the apartment. I watched him leave. Marcus, you don’t deserve a single second of the eight years I gave you. My phone buzzed. Isla had updated her Instagram. It was a clear photo of Marcus’s face. The caption read: Finally convinced my husband to show his handsome face. He was getting so tired of hiding. She knew exactly who I was. The thrift app, the friendly chats, the photo… it was all a game to her. The sheer disgust of being toyed with boiled over. I commented directly under her post: You really deserve an Oscar for this performance. Within seconds, my phone rang. It was Marcus. “Naomi, what the hell are you doing?” “She’s throwing her affair in my face, and you’re asking me what I’m doing?” “Isla isn’t like that. Just apologize to her, and we can move past this,” Marcus said, his voice cold and demanding. “Are you out of your mind, Marcus?” I spat. “Fine. Then you can figure out Toby’s school enrollment on your own,” he said impatiently. My heart stopped. Toby was supposed to start elementary school in the fall, and I had been struggling to secure a spot in a decent district. I never thought Marcus would weaponize our son’s education to protect his mistress. I couldn’t risk Toby’s future. “Fine. I’ll apologize.” That afternoon, I took Toby with me to Isla’s address. Even though I thought I was prepared, standing in the foyer of her massive suburban mansion made my chest tighten. He had built a paradise for them. Everything I had only ever seen in luxury magazines was scattered carelessly around the house. “Don’t just stand there. Come in,” Marcus said, his arm wrapped tightly around Isla’s waist as they walked down the grand staircase. “Are you ready to apologize?” “Marc, honey, let it go. This must be so hard for Naomi,” Isla murmured, her voice dripping with sweet poison. I took a step forward and bowed my head slightly. “I was jealous of you, Isla. I let my envy get the better of me. I am truly sorry.” Marcus looked surprised, a complex emotion flitting through his eyes. Before he could speak, Toby suddenly charged forward like a little rocket, shielding me. “Don’t you dare bully my mom!” he screamed at them. Before I could grab him, Ollie lunged and shoved Toby hard. Toby stumbled backward, losing his footing, and crashed into a massive ceramic vase. The vase toppled, shattering against the hardwood floor with a deafening crash. Sharp ceramic shards exploded everywhere. “Toby!” I screamed, my heart leaping into my throat. When I reached him, my breath hitched. Blood was pouring from deep cuts on his arms and legs, staining the white ceramic pieces crimson. Ollie stood nearby, clapping his hands with a nasty grin. “Serves you right! That’s what you get for yelling at my parents!” My mind went completely blank. All I knew was that I had to save my baby. I shoved Ollie aside and knelt beside Toby, tears streaming down my face as I cradled his shaking body. I looked up at Marcus and screamed, “Get the car! We need to go to the hospital right now!” Marcus panicked, grabbing his car keys and stepping toward us. But suddenly, Ollie let out a piercing shriek. “Daddy, it hurts! It hurts so bad!” Marcus froze, his eyes darting to Ollie. Isla burst into tears, wrapping her arms around her son. “Ollie, sweetie, did that woman hurt you?” Ollie nodded through big, theatrical tears. Isla looked at me, her eyes red and accusing. “Naomi, how could you lay your hands on a child?” I looked at Marcus’s darkening expression and felt my heart sink. “I didn’t hurt him! I just moved him out of the way! I barely touched him!” “He’s just a little boy, Naomi. Children don’t lie,” Isla sobbed, looking up at Marcus with trembling lips. “Marc, please, we need to get Ollie checked out. My chest hurts just looking at him.” Marcus turned around, scooped Ollie into his arms, and walked toward the front door with Isla at his side. “Marcus!” I cried out, desperate. “Toby is bleeding! He needs a hospital!” Marcus glanced back, a brief hesitation in his eyes, before he hardened. “It’s just a few scratches. He’ll be fine.” With that, he walked out. Watching his retreating back, something inside me died permanently. I picked up my bleeding son and stumbled out of the mansion. We hadn’t even reached the main road when the skies opened up, pouring freezing rain over us. Despair, heavy and suffocating, threatened to pull me under. For a split second, the thought of just giving up forever crossed my mind. But Toby seemed to sense my breakdown. “Mom, it doesn’t hurt. Don’t cry,” he whispered, reaching up with a trembling hand to wipe the rain and tears from my cheek. The gesture snapped me back to reality. I had to live. For my son, I had to be strong. “I’m here, baby. Mom’s got you.” Finally, a kind stranger driving by pulled over and rushed us to the emergency room. The doctor said the cuts were deep. Toby had to get several stitches in his arm and leg. He didn’t cry once. Instead, he reached up with his small, uninjured hand to cover my eyes. “Don’t look, Mom. I’m a big boy.” I couldn’t even speak. I could only nod, my tears soaking his hand. Over the next few days, I was consumed with taking care of Toby, changing his bandages, and desperately looking for school options. I had no time for anything else. Until my neighbor gently knocked on my door and told me to check my phone. I had gone viral. Isla had uploaded a heavily edited video of the incident at the villa. It showed me apologizing and then “shoving” Ollie, completely cutting out the part where Ollie pushed Toby into the vase. The internet was ruthless. Thousands of comments called me a bitter, unstable ex-wife trying to claw her way into a rich family, attacking an innocent child out of pure jealousy. Toby’s school admission was instantly rejected. The admissions officer told me flatly, “We cannot accept your son. The negative publicity is too much of a risk, and other parents would complain.” I didn’t go looking for Isla, but she came to me. We met at a quiet corner café. She sipped her cappuccino, looking down her nose at me. “How does it feel to have nowhere left to turn, Naomi?” “What do you want?” I asked, staring her down. “My son is starting school soon, but he doesn’t have a legitimate name,” she said, slowly stirring her cup. “You want my husband’s name. You want to be the new Mrs. Sinclair.” “You’re smarter than I thought,” Isla smirked. “I’ll sign the divorce papers. But I want half of everything Marcus owns.” “Don’t be greedy, Isla. If I were greedy, I would take him for every penny he has. He is the one who strayed.” “Don’t push your luck, Naomi. We’ll see who wins this,” she hissed, grabbing her designer bag and slamming her chair back as she left. I finished my coffee slowly, my heart hardening into steel. For my son, I would not sit back and take this. That evening, a massive expose hit the internet. Marcus’s phone began to vibrate violently. He looked at the screen with a smug grin, thinking I had finally cracked under the pressure and was calling to beg for a truce. But as he opened the trending local news app, his face drained of all color, and his hands began to shake.

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On the day of our engagement party, my fiancé’s beloved first love slit her wrists. He told me a life was on the line and that I needed to grow up and understand. Oh, I was very understanding. The guests had already arrived, and I wasn’t about to let a perfectly good venue go to waste. So, I swapped the groom right then and there. Why stop at an engagement? Let’s just go all the way. 1 Draped in an exquisite lace gown, I sat in the bridal suite, waiting for the ceremony to begin. Instead of the coordinator coming to lead me down the aisle, the door flew open to reveal my best friend, Tess, her face pale with fury. “What’s wrong?” My chest tightened as a cold wave of dread washed over me. Tess stared at me, silent for a long moment, before her teeth clenched. “I told you to dump George months ago. You wouldn’t listen. Now, right before the biggest moment of your life, he’s about to run off to his precious little ex.” The room went dead silent for a count of five. “Ann?” I asked. “Who else?” Tess let out a harsh, bitter laugh, her eyes darting to the door where my fiancé, George, had just appeared. “Look at the great romantic. His fiancée is waiting in her gown, but his heart takes flight the second his ex sheds a few tears over the phone.” George flinched at the sarcasm, his expression darkening. “Ann slit her wrists,” he said, his voice tense. “The situation is critical. I need to be there.” “Be there? For what?” Tess mocked, stepping in front of me. “You aren’t her family, and you aren’t her boyfriend. Why on earth is it your job to save her?” She squeezed my hand gently, turning her glare back to him. “You’re still obsessed with her. Trying to get engaged to one woman while rushing off to hold the hand of another. Quite the gentleman, aren’t you, Mr. Vance?” George ignored her, focusing his pleading eyes entirely on me. “Audie, I know today is our day. If it weren’t an emergency, I swear I wouldn’t leave. But a human life is at stake. I need you to be reasonable.” I looked at the man I had been dating for the last six months. Slowly, the tension left my shoulders, and a quiet smile touched my lips. “Alright. I’m reasonable. Go ahead.” “Audrey!” Tess gasped, spinning around to look at me in absolute disbelief. “You’re letting your groom walk out on your own engagement to comfort another woman? Do you want to be the laughingstock of the city for the rest of your life?” I stood up, wrapping my arm around Tess’s shoulders and gently pinching her cheek to keep her from saying another word. “Go on, George,” I said, my voice sweet and calm. “Hurry up. If you’re too late, her scratches might actually heal on their own.” George hesitated, sensing something off in my tone, but his desperation won. Without another word, he turned and ran down the corridor. Tess broke free from my grip, her eyes wide with rage. Just as she opened her mouth to scream at me, I smiled. “The party is still happening today.” “With what groom?” Tess threw her hands in the air. “The man just ran out. Who are you going to stand there with? A ghost?” I raised a finger, shaking it gently with a mysterious grin. “Who said the groom has to be George?” Leaving Tess completely bewildered, I smoothed down my dress, stepped into my heels, and walked toward the grand double doors of the ballroom. If the groom wanted to bail, I didn’t mind finding a better one. 2 I peeked through the crack of the double doors, scanning the ballroom. The ceremony was supposed to start in ten minutes, and the guests were already seated. I looked from left to right, front to back, but there wasn’t a single eligible bachelor in sight. Even my best guy friend wasn’t picking up his phone. Panic started to creep in. I needed to salvage my dignity, and I needed to do it fast. Just as I was about to lose hope, I saw my father walking toward the VIP section, laughing heartily as he guided a tall, striking man. “Gideon, my friend! You honor me by coming straight from the airport…” My father was beaming, introducing the handsome man to everyone nearby. Gideon Pierce. He was impeccably dressed in a tailored charcoal suit, his sharp features softened by a subtle, enigmatic smile. In that instant, my problem solved itself. He was someone we knew, someone respectable, and undeniably gorgeous. Who could be more perfect than my father’s close friend? I rushed back to my dressing table, grabbed my phone, and frantically scrolled through my contacts. When I finally found Gideon’s name, I hesitated. It was his private number, and the last time I had called it was when I was studying abroad. Gideon and my father were old chess rivals. Years ago, they had fought their way to the finals of a major amateur tournament. My father had lost, but the defeat had sparked a deep friendship. At the time, Gideon was only nineteen, becoming a close confidant to my forty-three-year-old father. Even though Gideon was only eight years older than me, my father had always insisted I call him “Uncle Gideon.” At thirty-four, Gideon had everything: wealth, looks, a brilliant career, and status. The only thing he lacked was a wife. Sometimes, my father would browse through social media, hoping to find a suitable match for his dear younger friend. As it turned out, fate was finally playing along. I dialed the number, keeping my eyes glued to the crack in the door. Across the room, Gideon felt his phone vibrate. He pulled it out, his brow furrowing slightly as he looked at the screen. Please tell me he didn’t delete my number, I prayed. To my relief, he swiped to answer. “Hello?” “Uncle Gideon,” I whispered urgently. “Can you come to the bridal suite in the back? Right now?” “Is there an emergency?” he asked, his deep voice instantly grounded and calm. “Yes. A very big one.” “I’ll be right there.” He hung up. I watched through the gap as Gideon stood, politely excused himself without alerting my father, and walked toward the hallway. Before he could even knock, I pulled the door open and yanked him inside. I had already sent Tess out. If I was going to be rejected, I wanted to keep whatever dignity I had left. “Uncle Gideon, I need a massive favor.” “Tell me.” I pointed to George’s spare tuxedo hanging on the rack, using the gentlest, most persuasive tone I could muster. “If you aren’t in a rush to leave today, would you mind getting engaged to me?” His brow arched, his sharp mind putting the pieces together instantly. “Did he run, or did you change your mind?” Having thirty-four years of life experience meant he wasn’t easily fooled. Looking at him, I was suddenly reminded of my teenage years. I had tried to play a prank on him with some friends, only for him to completely turn the tables on us. When my friends blamed me and walked away, I had angrily confronted him. He had simply looked at me and said, “A partnership requires trust, Audrey. If suspicion outweighs belief, the bond crumbles.” So, I decided to be completely honest. I told him everything about George and Ann. “The truth is,” I concluded, “he ran, and I don’t regret letting him go for a second.” “Are you certain?” I nodded vigorously. “Absolutely. George can be someone else’s headache. I will never look back.” “Even if I have to stay single for the rest of my life,” I muttered, “I wouldn’t marry him.” A warm, gentle palm pressed lightly against my lips, silencing me. Gideon smiled down at me, his eyes dark and unreadable. “Alright. I accept.” He glanced at George’s spare tuxedo, dismissing it with a critical eye. “The fabric is cheap, the cut is outdated, and the sleeves are far too short. I can’t wear this.” I took a proper look at Gideon. He was indeed much taller and broader than George. Thanks to Ann’s drama, my new groom was not only more mature, but he was also a much better fit in every possible way. Gideon pulled out his phone and dialed his assistant. “Tommy, fetch the spare suit from my car. Bring it to the groom’s changing room immediately.” Once the arrangements were made, he patted my shoulder gently. “See you at the altar, my future fiancée.” 3 Gideon’s assistant, Tommy, was incredibly efficient. Not only did he accept his boss’s sudden engagement without batting an eye, but he also stepped in as the master of ceremonies. With a professional coordinator taking the reins, the engagement party proceeded without a hitch. Since Tess had already warned my parents, they managed to look composed when they joined us on stage. As for George’s family, they had quietly slipped out of the venue earlier. I later found out that the moment George received Ann’s call, he had already instructed his parents to leave. He knew he was in the wrong and wanted to avoid a scene, choosing the most cowardly exit possible. The moment the microphones were turned off, my father rushed over to us. “Gideon, my friend, what is the meaning of this?” My mother quickly pinched his arm, whispering, “Stop calling him your friend, dear. The family hierarchy is completely ruined now.” “But this is so sudden,” my father stammered. Faced with my father’s confusion, Gideon wrapped a protective arm around my shoulder and began weaving a beautiful, entirely fabricated story. He spoke of a deep, secret love we had shared for years, a silent devotion we had kept hidden until the very last moment when we realized we couldn’t live without each other. He spoke with such sincerity that I almost believed him myself. As a prominent figure in the city’s business community, handling a minor crisis like this was child’s play for him. Soon, he had the entire room charmed. The few skeptical guests were quickly placated by my father’s finest wine. The party ended in absolute success. Back in the dressing room, Tess finally let out a massive sigh of relief. “George is a bastard, but he did one good thing today by running away,” she said, helping me unzip my dress. “You traded a piece of gravel for a mountain of gold.” I couldn’t help but laugh at her dramatics.

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My son, who had just started elementary school, was kidnapped by my wife’s sworn enemy. The kidnapper demanded that my wife, the police captain, show up immediately to negotiate. Upon hearing the news, she rushed out of the station. But midway, she received a mysterious phone call, and then she vanished. I was forced to watch as my son’s tiny body collapsed into a pool of blood, his ears and fingers ruthlessly severed. “Daddy, it hurts so much. Can you tell Mommy to save me, please?” My hands shook violently as I called my wife ninety-nine times, my voice begging, stripped of all dignity. “Diana, please, I’m begging you, save our son…” When she finally picked up on the hundredth attempt, her voice was dripping with impatience. “Have you had enough of this drama, Johnny? Are you really using our son to beg for attention now? Tristan is home alone tonight and he feels unsafe. It is my duty to look after my junior academy classmate. Grow up, Johnny. Let it go. I’ll come home tomorrow to celebrate Finn’s birthday.” A second later, a notification popped up on my phone. It was Tristan’s social media status. My eyes burned as I stared at the photo of them leaning intimately against each other. The caption read: [You are not just a hero to the public; you are my hero, too.] She had no idea she would never celebrate her son’s birthday again. The only thing waiting for her was his funeral. 1 I don’t remember how I made it to the morgue. Staring down at Finn’s cold, bruised body, at the empty space where his ears and tiny fingers should have been, my chest cleaved wide open. It felt as though a dry ball of cotton had been shoved down my throat. My stomach cramped so violently that my entire body began to shake. I couldn’t accept it. Just that morning, he had been holding my hand, whispering his birthday wishes. Now, he was nothing but a cold, grey piece of clay. The quiet of the morgue was shattered by my choked, dry heaving as I reached out to touch his purple cheek. “Finn, baby, please open your eyes for Daddy. Daddy is right here.” The only response was the detective’s polite, rehearsed words of condolence. They told me the kidnapper was an old convict Diana had wrongfully arrested years ago. A decade of wrongful imprisonment had shattered his mind. After torturing and killing Finn, he had turned the gun on himself. But everyone knew the truth: the kidnapper only wanted an apology from Diana. If she had only shown up when she said she would, Finn would still be breathing. The funeral ended two days later. I held the small, cold urn in my arms. No matter how tightly I squeezed it against my chest, the ceramic wouldn’t warm up. It only pressed harder against my aching ribs. When I finally dragged myself back to the empty house, I walked straight to his bedroom. Seeing the crayon drawing of the three of us taped to the wall, my bloodshot eyes overflowed again. Exhausted, I collapsed onto his small bed, curling my trembling body into a ball, desperately inhaling the faint, lingering scent of my little boy. Then, my phone buzzed, the screen lighting up again and again. Diana’s face was trending on social media. A photo of her and Tristan had been circulating under the headline: The City’s Bravest Cop and Her Most Devoted Witness. In the comment section, strangers were swooning. [They look so good together! I declare them husband and wife!] [Please tell me they’re dating. Look at the chemistry!] [Look at how she leans her shoulder into his. They are definitely more than friends!] As the gossip spread, Diana had finally stepped in to post a public comment. [We are just friends. He is a good man, please respect his privacy.] That vague, teasing reply felt like a heavy weight pressing into my lungs. Years ago, when I was being harassed online by angry citizens because of one of her high-profile cases, she had told me, “Even if I speak up for you, who would believe me? Just ignore them.” So, she did know how to protect someone. She just reserved that protection for her handsome, fragile junior. It made sense. Compared to the young, attentive Tristan, I was just the boring husband she had been tied to for seven long years. I had been a fool, clinging to the vows we made in our youth. Coughing through my tears, I unlocked my phone and sent her a text. [Diana, let’s get a divorce.] After contacting a lawyer to draft the papers, my frayed nerves finally snapped, and a heavy, dark exhaustion dragged me down into sleep. I dreamed of the day we got married. She had worn a white gown, her eyes blazing with a fierce, burning adoration. “Johnny, in academy, they always taught us that we have to protect the public before we can protect our families. But I’ve always believed that without our tiny family, the world doesn’t matter. Will you let me protect you for the rest of our lives?” The dream shifted. Finn’s small hand was holding mine, his other hand clutching Diana’s. “Daddy, Mommy, Finn, together forever.” I squeezed his tiny hand, terrified he would vanish. Suddenly, his fingers began to slip away, turning into warm, dripping blood. “Daddy, save me!” “Finn!” I jolted awake, cold sweat pouring down my back. Outside the bedroom door, a soft, whining male voice drifted in. “Diana, if Johnny finds out I’m staying here, he’s going to be so angry with me. You have to promise you’ll protect me.” My blood ran cold. Then came Diana’s soft chuckle. “Don’t worry, silly. He’s away on a business trip, and Finn is at his boarding school. The house is empty.” I couldn’t believe my ears. Our son’s ashes were barely cold, and she had already brought Tristan into our home. The phantom sound of my son’s dying screams and Tristan’s soft, playful laughter crashed together in my skull, threatening to tear my mind apart. I bit my lip so hard I tasted copper. Outside, Diana’s footsteps drew closer to Finn’s door. “You can stay in Finn’s room for now. The bed is a bit small, but…” I threw the door open, my sanity shattering into dust. “Get out! This is my son’s room! Who the hell gave you permission to stand here?” Diana and Tristan froze, eyes wide with shock. Tristan’s recovery was quick, offering a weak, nervous smile. “Johnny, you’re home? Wait, wasn’t Finn kidnapped? How is he?” Diana’s face darkened instantly, her eyes filling with cold disappointment. “I know I’ve been busy and haven’t had time for Finn, Johnny, but this is low. You didn’t have to fabricate a kidnapping just because you didn’t want him staying at school. If people find out that the husband of a police captain is spreading lies like this, do you have any idea what it will do to my reputation?” Even now, she chose to believe I was a liar rather than admit her son had actually been taken. Her only concern was her precious reputation. The room began to spin. I grabbed the doorframe to keep from falling. Diana let out a heavy sigh, her tone dripping with irritation. “I am a police officer. My duty is to the public. I don’t expect you to understand the pressure, but I do expect you to stop making things difficult for me. Tristan’s father is in the hospital nearby. Staying here makes it easier for Tristan to visit him. Finn isn’t even here, so the room is just going to waste anyway.” Emboldened by her defense, Tristan slipped past me into Finn’s room, looking around with a pleased expression. “This room is actually bigger than my master bedroom back home. Thank you, Diana.” Diana’s expression softened. “Of course. Stay as long as you need.” Watching them discuss how to redecorate my dead son’s sanctuary, a primal rage took over. I lunged forward, shoving Tristan hard. “Get the hell out! This is my son’s room! Get out!” Tristan stumbled back, his eyes immediately welling with tears. Diana caught him, her face twisting in anger. “Johnny! If you have a problem, take it out on me! Tristan is a guest. Why can’t you show some basic decency?” Tristan leaned his head against her shoulder, sniffling softly. “Johnny is probably still upset that you couldn’t pick Finn up the other day. I’m sorry, Johnny. It’s my fault. I rely on Diana too much. But please, don’t worry. I won’t stay for free. I’ll help around the house. Let me clean up this cabinet for you…” “Don’t touch that!” Seeing his hand reach toward the framed photo of Finn on the cabinet, my heart leaped into my throat. I threw myself forward. The frame slipped through my fingers and crashed onto the hardwood floor, the glass shattering, slicing my son’s smiling face into jagged pieces. The sharp pain of the glass slicing into my palms was nothing compared to the agony in my chest. I fell to my knees, desperately gathering the broken pieces of the photo. “Who told you to touch him?” Tristan shrank back, his face pale as he clutched at his shirt. He looked at Diana, his voice trembling. “Diana, I didn’t mean to. I just got startled. Finn is so young, why would Johnny put up a photo like that in his room? It looks like a memorial. Isn’t that bad luck for the boy?” Diana’s face turned incredibly grim. She stepped forward and snatched the torn photo right out of my hands. “What are you doing? Give it back! Diana, give it back!” I screamed, terrified. She pushed me away. “I should ask you what you think you’re doing, Johnny! Are you so bitter toward me that you’re willing to curse our own son? He is just a little boy! Why are you acting like he’s dead?” But Diana, he is dead. And you’re the one who killed him. Before I could speak, she tore the remaining paper to shreds, tossing the pieces in my face. The sharp edges nicked my cheek, but my heart was already bleeding. I knelt on the floor, trying to piece his face back together with trembling fingers. My mind drifted back to the years when Diana and I began to drift apart because of Tristan. I was always the one taking Finn to the park, attending his parent-teacher conferences, taking him to the clinic for his vaccines. Whenever the other parents asked, “Where is Diana? Working again?” I would just offer a tight, quiet smile and hold my boy closer. I knew she wasn’t too busy. She was just busy with Tristan. Tristan’s cat was lost, Tristan’s apartment was broken into, Tristan’s boss was giving him a hard time… On the day of the kidnapping, Finn had looked up at me and said, “Daddy, my birthday wish this year is for you to be happy.” He was so small, yet he already understood how broken we were. I had failed to protect him in life, and now, I was failing to protect his memory in death. Diana’s sharp voice dragged me back to the cold room. “Burn those stupid pieces of paper. I don’t want to see them again! Johnny, if you keep acting like this, you’re going to ruin this family. Don’t blame me if I end up divorcing you!” If Finn were still alive, I would have swallowed my pride and endured her words once again. But now, I looked up, my eyes bloodshot and dead. “You don’t have to threaten me. We are getting a divorce. Pack up your little friend and get out of my son’s room, or I’ll call the station and have your colleagues come drag you both out.” Diana pinched the bridge of her nose, her voice laced with exhaustion. “Johnny, can you please be rational for once? If I get a mark on my record, how does that help Finn? Can’t you think about him for a second?” “Think about him?” I grabbed a broom from the corner and swung it at them, screaming like a lunatic. “When you left our high-fever son with me while I was doubled over with a stomach ulcer just to take Tristan to an interview, did you think about him? When you were flirting with him, and everyone was whispering that my son and I were just a mistress and a schoolyard secret, did you think about him?” Diana shielded Tristan, her face turning pale. “That was years ago! Why do you always have to drag up the past? I have a demanding job, Johnny. I can’t stay home and watch you two twenty-four hours a day!” Tristan clutched her arm, looking incredibly meek. “Johnny, I’m so sorry. I had no idea you felt this way about me. There’s nothing going on between us. Once my father is out of the hospital, I’ll take him back to our hometown. I’ll stay far away. Please don’t fight with Diana. She works so hard every day.” His submissive tone only made Diana more protective. She glared at me, her eyes filled with disgust. “You’ve worked so hard to build a life here, Tristan. Your father deserves the best medical care. You have nothing to apologize for. He is the one who should be apologizing.” A bitter laugh escaped my throat. Our seven-year marriage was nothing but a sickening joke. “Why should I apologize? He isn’t going anywhere. He’s just putting on a show to make you feel sorry for him!” Tristan bit his lip, tears spilling over. “Johnny, I was only trying to help. Why do you hate me so much?” Seeing his tears, Diana’s anger erupted. She grabbed the broom from my hands and shoved me back with all her strength. “Enough, Johnny! Don’t push me to my limit!” The sharp edge of the cabinet corner sliced into my back. I gasped at the sudden, biting pain, but I forced a cold laugh. “I’m the one divorcing you, Diana. I regret the day I met you. If I had never married you, maybe our son wouldn’t…” Before I could finish, Tristan’s phone rang. He answered it, gasping in horror. “Diana, the hospital said my father ran away again! What do I do?” Diana immediately wrapped her arm around him. “Don’t panic. I’ll get my unit to look for him right now. We’ll find him.” She glanced at my pale, sweating face, her tone shifting slightly. “Tristan only has his father left. I’ll come back as soon as we find him. Make sure you pick Finn up from school today. I remember his birthday is coming up. Let’s have a nice family dinner.” I let out a hollow laugh. “Diana, Finn’s birthday was two days ago.” The day he died. But she didn’t hear me. She was already dragging Tristan out the door, her back turned to me once again. 2 I forced a wry smile, cleaned up my son’s room, locked the door, and went out to print a new copy of his photo. When I returned, the front door was wide open. Fear gripped my chest, and I ran inside. Finn’s bedroom door had been violently forced open. Tristan was standing in the living room, casually directing a couple of moving men as they hauled Finn’s toys and books out of the room. I rushed over, screaming, “Stop! Get out of my house!” Tristan crossed arms, looking entirely unbothered. “Johnny, Diana bought this place. She told me her father-in-law, my dad, doesn’t like the hospital. He’s going to live here from now on. She said I can redecorate the room however I want.” I shook with rage. When we got married, Diana was just a broke rookie cop. I was the one who bought this house and put her name on the deed as a wedding gift. I lunged forward, grabbing Tristan by his hair and dragging him toward the door. “This is my house! Get the hell out before I call the police for trespassing!” Seeing the fight, the movers quickly dropped their boxes and bolted. Tristan shrieked, clawing at my hands. Suddenly, a burly, disheveled older man rushed out of the bathroom, shouting obscenities. “Let go of my son, you bastard!” Tristan’s father, Mr. Ward, charged at me, delivering a heavy blow that sent me crashing to the floor. My head spun, and before I could recover, the older man pinned me down, cursing as his fists rained down on my face. My face swelled, and blood began to seep from my eye. My screams echoed through the empty house. The door flew open, and Diana rushed in. She pulled Mr. Ward off me, her face pale with anger. “What is going on here?” Tristan threw himself in front of his father, sobbing dramatically. “Diana, don’t blame my dad! Johnny was trying to kick us out, and he attacked me! My dad was only trying to protect me!” My face was covered in blood, my body convulsing with pain. I reached blindly for my phone on the floor, but Diana snatched it away before I could touch it. “Johnny! You attacked them first, and now you want to play the victim?” she yelled. “I was the one who invited Tristan and his father to stay here. If you have a problem, direct it at me! Don’t attack innocent people!” I coughed, spitting a mouthful of dark blood onto the floor. Diana knelt down, using a tissue to wipe the blood from my chin, her voice softening slightly. “I know you’re hurting, but making a scene like this won’t help. Just drop it, please. For my sake.” Tears of blood slipped down my cheeks. Seeing Diana take his side, Tristan grew bold. He began tossing Finn’s remaining things into the hallway like trash. “What is this box?” he asked, picking up a small, polished wooden container. I struggled to lift my head, my eyes locking onto the small box. It was Finn’s urn. “No… please…” I croaked, my voice barely a whisper. Diana didn’t hear me. She glanced at the box and sniffed. “I’ve never seen it before. Just throw it out. It looks like bad luck anyway.” With a casual flick of her wrist, she snatched it from his hand and tossed it toward the trash pile. “No!” I lunged forward, but the heavy wooden box hit the wall and shattered right over my head. My son’s grey ashes rained down, mixing with the fresh blood pouring from my scalp. In that instant, the world faded, and all I could see was Finn lying in that dark alley, covered in blood. The last thread of my sanity snapped. I began to wail, a desperate, animalistic sound. I thrashed on the floor, throwing whatever I could reach, completely hysterical. “Get out! All of you, get out! Get the hell out of my house!” Diana shielded Tristan and his father, screaming back at me. “Johnny, it’s just a stupid wooden box! Why are you acting like a madman?” A sharp, stabbing pain flared in my chest, cutting off my breath. I vomited another mouthful of blood and collapsed into the darkness. When I opened my eyes again, the hospital room was quiet and empty. I reached for my wallet, pulling out the small passport photo of Finn I kept in my pocket. Holding it close to my chest, I dialed a number. “Hello? I’d like to file a formal complaint against Police Captain Diana Chen.” 3 The next day, Diana walked through the corridors of the station. She noticed her colleagues looking at her with strange, distant expressions. She assumed it was just because she had been away for a few days. Suddenly, her young deputy, Thomas, tapped her on the shoulder. “Captain… I am so incredibly sorry for your loss.” “What?” Diana’s heart seized. For some reason, her mind flashed to a black-and-white photo of Finn. Thomas looked at her face, his expression growing serious and confused. “Captain, you didn’t know? The convict you wrongfully arrested years ago… he got out of prison. He kidnapped your son…” An icy chill gripped Diana’s spine. “Where is Finn?” “The kidnapper killed him before the negotiators could arrive.” The color drained from Diana’s face. She stumbled, grabbing Thomas’s arm to keep her balance. “What did you say? Say that again!” Her sudden scream startled Thomas. He stared at her pale, terrified face, realization slowly dawning on him. “Captain, you really didn’t know? The entire department knows. Johnny was weeping in this very hallway. We tried calling you dozens of times, but you never answered. Didn’t you notice that the Captain’s office didn’t call you in for shifts? We thought you were taking time off to grieve. We didn’t want to disturb you. Did Johnny really not tell you?” Diana stood speechless, her mouth opening and closing soundlessly. Her mind flashed back to three days ago. Johnny had called her frantically, begging her to come to the hostage site. He said the kidnapper demanded to see her, or Finn would die. She had rushed toward her car. But halfway there, Tristan had called, crying hysterically. “Diana, my dad ran away again. I don’t know who else to call. Please help me find him.” Tristan’s father was a compulsive gambler who had ruined his family. He had even threatened to cut off his own fingers to quit, only to rack up an even larger debt elsewhere. Tristan had moved his father to the city to hide from loan sharks, keeping him locked inside. But the old man had jumped out of a window, nearly breaking his leg, and had escaped the hospital to gamble again. Diana had helped Tristan find his father several times before. She knew exactly what the old man had done. She told Tristan that her son was in danger and that he had to search for his father on his own. But Tristan had gasped. “That can’t be true, Diana. I just saw Johnny and Finn walking through the mall. I tried to wave, but Johnny ignored me.” Hearing that, Diana assumed Johnny had fabricated the kidnapping to force her home. Furious, she blocked his number and went to help Tristan instead. Now, she had no energy to wonder if Tristan had lied to her. She only knew her son was dead. Her only child was gone. She grabbed Thomas’s jacket, looking like a hollow ghost. “Where is his body? Take me to him. I don’t believe you!” Thomas’s face fell. “The kidnapper shot himself after killing the boy. The case was closed quickly. Johnny already took the body to be cremated…” Cremation. The polished wooden box. The grey dust that had rained down on her head. What had she said to him? “Just throw it out. It looks like bad luck anyway.” That was Finn’s ashes. Her own son. A wave of intense heat rushed up her throat, and veins bulged on her forehead. Suddenly, she coughed, spitting a thick spray of blood onto the floor. Thomas panicked, catching her as she wobbled. “Captain! Are you okay? I really had no idea you didn’t know. But maybe Johnny didn’t tell you to spare you the pain. The kid… it was really bad…” Thomas’s hesitation felt like a lead weight dropping onto her chest. She looked up, her chin covered in blood, her eyes so red they looked ready to burst. “What do you mean?” Her voice was thick with the copper taste of blood. Thomas quieted, lowering his voice. “To force you to show up, the kidnapper cut off pieces of Finn’s body every thirty minutes and sent them to Johnny. First his ears, then his fingers, then…” Diana couldn’t hear the rest. Her body collapsed inward, curling onto the floor as if she could hide from the reality crashing down on her. As a seasoned officer, she had handled horrific homicides. She had seen mutilated bodies. The moment Thomas spoke, the images flooded her mind. Her son. Her beautiful little boy, who had just started first grade. How much pain must he have been in when those blades cut into him? Now, that agony was ripping through her own nerves. The world blurred, a chaotic mix of blood, tears, and cold sweat. In the dark, she could see Finn lying in a pool of blood, crying out for her. She had always taught him: “Real men don’t cry, Finn. You have to be brave.” And he had nodded, his small eyes full of determination. “I’m a brave man, Mommy. I won’t cry.” But at the end, when the pain became too much, he must have wept until his voice cracked, his blood mixing with the dust. “Mommy, it hurts so much! Where are you? Why aren’t you coming to save me? Mommy, help me!” With a dull thud, Diana hit the floor, her body shaking violently. Blood poured from her nose and mouth, a physical manifestation of a heart that had shattered beyond repair.

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Married for three years, and she slapped me across the face in the middle of a board meeting. All for her one that got away. She looked down at me. “Oscar, give the company to him. You don’t deserve it.” I just smiled. No tears, no screaming, no flipping tables. I quietly signed the equity transfer agreement and slid the corporate seal across the mahogany table. Everyone in that room thought I was a coward yielding to the pressure. But they didn’t know the truth. Sitting on that company’s books was a black hole of eighty million dollars. My hand was shaking when I signed those papers. Not out of anger. I was terrified she might change her mind. 1 When Beatrice walked into the conference room, every executive stood up. It wasn’t out of respect. It was because of the man walking right behind her. Oliver. Her college sweetheart. Her “perfect regret.” Word on the street was that he was a Wall Street hotshot who had just moved back from London, a financial prodigy with a ruthless edge. I was sitting at the head of the table. The coffee in my mug was still steaming. The moment I saw them walk in shoulder to shoulder, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. But Beatrice’s first words made it painfully clear. We weren’t here to discuss the quarterly earnings report. “Oscar Pendleton.” She used my full name. The last time she called me by my full name was three years ago at the courthouse when we signed our marriage certificate. I set my mug down. “What’s going on?” She marched right up to me. Her heels clicked sharply against the hardwood floor. Then, she raised her hand. Smack. She slapped me hard across the left cheek. The entire boardroom flatlined. The pen in Richard’s hand slipped. It clattered to the floor and rolled under the table. The old financial director froze for three seconds, not even daring to reach for it. My head snapped to the side. A dull ringing echoed in my left ear. It didn’t hurt. Honestly, it didn’t hurt at all. But I still put on a mask of absolute heartbreak. After all, I had been waiting three long months for this exact slap. Beatrice’s eyes were red. I couldn’t tell if it was genuine emotion or just a performance. Her acting skills had definitely improved over the last three years. “Oscar, give the company to him.” She pointed a manicured finger at Oliver standing behind her. “You don’t deserve it.” Oliver stood tall. His expression was composed, but his eyes carried a distinct glint that screamed he was simply better than me. His tailored suit fit flawlessly. His hair was styled to perfection. The guy radiated the insufferable energy of a motivational speaker on a TED Talk stage. I almost burst out laughing right there. There were eleven executives in that room. Not a single one made a sound. Some stared at their phones. Some found the ceiling tiles fascinating. Others suddenly developed a profound academic interest in the plastic water bottles on the table. My secretary, Sarah, stood in the corner. She was biting her lip so hard it was about to bleed. She was the only person in the room who knew the actual financial data. Besides me, of course. I took a deep breath and stood up. “Alright.” Beatrice blinked. She had clearly prepped herself for a massive shouting match. Behind her, Oliver also stiffened. He probably didn’t expect his hero moment to go this smoothly. I walked to the other end of the table and picked up the equity transfer agreement the legal team had drafted in advance. I flipped to the last page. Signed it. Stamped it. I slid the corporate seal right to Oliver’s fingertips. The whole process took less than two minutes. Richard finally picked up his pen from the floor. He looked at me with an expression so complicated it could have been a modern art exhibit. He was a veteran numbers guy. He knew exactly what those digits meant. But he didn’t dare say a word. Because Beatrice was Victor Sinclair’s daughter. Victor might be retired, but the old man still cast a long shadow in this industry. I pushed the signed documents toward Beatrice. “Sign it.” She picked up the pen. Her hand was trembling. Maybe it was excitement. Maybe she was moved to tears. She was finally merging the love of her life with her family’s empire. How poetic. I gave her a silent standing ovation in my head. After signing, Beatrice looked up at me. Her lips parted like she wanted to say something else. I didn’t give her the chance. “I’ve already packed my things. Keep the house. I’m taking my car. It’s not worth much anyway, so consider it my parting gift to you.” I grabbed my keys off the table and walked toward the door. “Oh, right.” I glanced back at Oliver. He squared his shoulders and met my gaze head-on. “Congratulations.” I left him with that single word and pushed through the glass doors. The hallway was incredibly long. My leather shoes clicked against the marble floor. Step after step. The elevator doors slid open. I stepped inside and hit the button for the underground garage. The second those metal doors closed. I smiled. It wasn’t a bitter smile. It wasn’t a cold smirk. It was the genuine, soul-cleansing, weight-of-the-world-lifting grin of a man who just tossed a live grenade into someone else’s lap. I covered my face and crouched in the corner of the elevator. My shoulders were shaking uncontrollably. I made it to the garage, got into my car, and slammed the door shut. Then I laughed for a solid thirty minutes. I laughed until I was starved for oxygen. I laughed until my ribs ached. I laughed until my tears soaked the leather steering wheel. I’m not a psychopath. You just don’t know the truth. Sitting on that company’s balance sheet was a black hole of exactly eighty million dollars. Eighty million. Not eighty thousand. I saw those audit reports last year. I had been fighting off furious suppliers and their unpaid invoices the year before that. Abandoned construction projects. Lawsuit payouts. Notices for unpaid taxes. They were all stuffed inside my desk drawer. I had sent Beatrice three separate emails. I texted her twice. I even called her for forty minutes straight, begging her to understand the financial reality of her father’s company. Her exact words to me were: “Can you just show a little ambition for once? Stop bothering me with your corporate whining.” Fine. I won’t bother you anymore. You wanted the company today. You got it. Thank you. From the bottom of my heart. I pulled my phone out of the glovebox and shot a text to my best friend, Mario. “Are you free tonight? I’m buying drinks at your spot.” Three seconds later, he replied. “You’re paying? Did the sky fall down? What happened?” “I’m divorced.” “What time? I’m going to murder that Sinclair woman.” “No, don’t.” I typed out the next line as fast as I could. “I’m buying drinks to celebrate.” There was a ten-second pause before his next message popped up. “Are you insane?” I chuckled and started the engine. My phone started ringing. Victor Sinclair. I glanced at the caller ID and hit decline. Today was the happiest day of my life in three years. My father-in-law. Wait, my ex-father-in-law’s calls could wait for another day. 2 Mario’s smokehouse was tucked away in a grimy corner on the Southside. Twenty sticky tables. No air conditioning. Just three massive industrial fans blowing warm air around. The beer was three bucks a bottle. You grabbed your own ribs from the warmer, and he tallied up the bones on your plate to charge you at the end. By the time I got there, he already had a table set up in the back alley. Eight bottles of cheap lager sat between us. Four were already popped open. They were all for him. “Spill it. What the hell is going on.” He shoved an open bottle into my hand. I gave him the play-by-play of exactly what went down in the boardroom. I left out the part where I giggled in my car for half an hour. Mario listened. Then he slammed his fork down on the plastic table. “That arrogant piece of work! She slapped you in front of the whole board? Who does she think she is! You’ve been breaking your back for that sinking ship for three years.” “Mario.” “What?” “The company is eighty million in the hole.” Mario froze. A piece of brisket hung halfway out of his mouth. His jaw literally unhinged. He sat there completely paralyzed for ten whole seconds. Then he slowly pulled the meat from his mouth and set it down. “How much?” “Eighty million. Probably more by now.” “What are you saying?” “I’m saying that today, Beatrice forced me to hand the company over to her golden boy, Oliver. And right now, they are probably popping vintage champagne to celebrate stealing a hollow shell drowning in eighty million dollars of debt.” Mario opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. He grabbed his beer, chugged a massive gulp, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “So you’re telling me you’re happy?” “I am ecstatic.” “Are you actually happy?” “I have never been this happy in my entire life.” Mario stared at me for ten long seconds. Then he slapped the table and burst out laughing. It started as a chuckle. Then it grew into a wheeze. Finally, he was howling, slumped over the table, pounding his fist against the plastic chair. A guy at the next table looked over, absolutely convinced we were out of our minds. “This is poetry!” Mario wiped a tear from his eye. “What do you even call this? Volunteering to jump on a live grenade!” “Pretty much.” “Does this Oliver guy have any clue?” “Not a chance. He stood behind Beatrice the whole time, chest puffed out, eyes full of determination. He looked exactly like a tech bro walking up to accept a startup award.” Mario lost it all over again. When he finally caught his breath, a thought hit him. “Wait. Why didn’t you just shut the place down before? Or file for bankruptcy?” I took a sip of my beer. “Do you really think Victor would let me close it? That company is his life’s work. Plus, I was the legal representative. If I filed for liquidation, I’d be the first one in the crosshairs. For three years, I’ve been trying to plug the holes. But eventually, I realized there were just more holes underneath.” “But the legal rep changed today?” “Exactly. Oliver signed the equity transfer. I had the legal team prep the change of representation paperwork weeks ago. The second his pen hit that paper, every single debt, lawsuit, and tax lien.” I raised my bottle and clinked it against his. “Has absolutely nothing to do with me.” Mario’s expression morphed from wild amusement into a bizarre kind of reverence. “Oscar, were you just waiting for this day?” “No.” I shook my head honestly. “I really wanted to save that company. But it’s beyond saving. Beatrice didn’t believe me. Victor thought I was just crying wolf. I issued three formal financial warnings. They ignored every single one.” “So if you couldn’t save it, you just had to.” “Wait for someone to take the fall.” “And they literally jumped in headfirst.” “She pushed him in with her own two hands.” Mario and I fell silent for three seconds. Then we both erupted into laughter again. I drank eight bottles of beer that night. It was the best beer I’d ever tasted. When I was leaving, Mario insisted on walking me to the street. He leaned on my shoulder, eyes gleaming with curiosity. “So this Oliver guy. What do you think is the very first thing he’s going to do on his first day tomorrow?” I thought about it. “He’ll probably change the artwork in the CEO’s office. He’s a guy who obsesses over aesthetics. I heard he framed two copies of his Master’s degree. One for his office, one above his bed.” “And then?” “Then he’ll have someone throw all my stuff in the trash and order a complete office remodel.” “And then?” “And then.” I looked out into the night street. “He’s going to open the desk drawer and look at the financial statements.” Mario shivered. “I almost feel bad for the guy.” “Don’t feel bad for him,” I patted his back. “Feel bad for the eighty million.” 3 How did I know exactly what happened on Oliver’s first day? Sarah texted me. My former secretary. Yesterday, Beatrice ordered her to become Oliver’s personal assistant starting today. Sarah’s text read exactly like this: “Mr. Pendleton, the new boss told me to clear everything out of your office. Do you want me to mail you that little cactus?” I typed back: “Throw it away. I’ve been watering that thing for three years. It only survived out of sheer spite. Just like the company.” Sarah sent back a crying-laughing emoji. Half an hour later, my phone buzzed again. “Mr. Sterling just finished his introductory meeting with the execs. Richard presented last quarter’s financials. Mr. Sterling has now locked himself in his office. The door is deadbolted.” I was sitting at home, eating instant ramen. Yes. Instant ramen. Not because I was broke. Because for the last three years, Beatrice banned me from eating it. She said it made the house smell cheap. Now that I was a free man, I went to the supermarket and bought one of every single flavor on the shelf. Spicy beef. Chicken teriyaki. Shrimp combo. Right now, I was slurping down the chili lime flavor. I hadn’t tasted this in three years. I took a massive bite, so incredibly satisfied that I could feel my toes uncurling. Absolute heaven. I typed back to Sarah while chewing: “Don’t panic. Last quarter was just the appetizer.” Sarah: “What does that mean?” Me: “Wait until he sees last year’s annual report.” Sarah: “Mr. Pendleton. I’m actually a little scared.” Me: “Scared of what? You’re an employee. The company got a new owner. As long as you get your paycheck, you’re fine. And if the checks bounce, it’s not your problem anymore.” Sarah: “No. I’m scared Mr. Sterling is going to pass out and no one is in there to catch him.” I choked on my noodles and nearly died coughing. At 1:00 PM, another text came through. “Mr. Sterling ordered Richard to pull up the detailed ledgers for the last three years. Richard was on the phone for forty minutes. He just wheeled three massive boxes of archives in there. The office door is locked again.” At 2:00 PM. “Three suppliers just showed up demanding payment. Mr. Sterling came out to handle it. He talked to them for twenty minutes. When he walked back in, his glasses were totally fogged up and the muscle in his cheek was twitching.” Three suppliers. Only three. Before I left, the actual number of suppliers with outstanding balances was fourteen. And these three were the polite ones. The other eleven were probably warming up their engines right now. I put my phone down and turned on the TV. I flipped through a few channels until I found a stand-up comedy special. The sound of jokes mixing with the smell of cheap ramen. My soul was at absolute peace. At 6:00 PM, Beatrice called. I hesitated. Not about whether to answer it. I was hesitating about what tone of voice I should use. Ultimately, I chose the best option. I let it ring out. She called back two more times. On the third try, I picked up. “Hello?” “Oscar Pendleton! You better explain to me right now why this company owes Apex Construction one point two million dollars!” Her voice was an octave higher than usual. It was so piercing I had to pull the phone two inches away from my ear. I got sick of that tone three years ago. “That was the final payment for the October project last year. I told you about it. You were vacationing in the Bahamas. Your exact reply to me was, ‘Stop bothering me with this trivial garbage.’” Dead silence on the other end. “Then why didn’t you handle it!” “I tried. I drafted a payment plan. It required your signature for approval. But that was the day you and Oliver went to that symphony in the city and skipped work. I followed up twice after that. You ghosted me.” More silence. Longer this time. “What about the rest of it? Richard says there’s a whole pile.” “I told you about all of them. By email, by text, and in person. Seven different times. You didn’t acknowledge a single one.” “You.” “Beatrice, you’re the majority shareholder now. These problems belong to you and your CEO. I’m just the ex-husband who got kicked out with nothing. I really can’t help you.” “You son of a!” “Oh, by the way. A few more suppliers might drop by tomorrow. Try to be nice to them. Don’t do what I did. I was way too polite, and they ended up chasing me around the parking lot.” I hung up. Then I brewed myself a cup of tea. Green tea. When Beatrice lived here, she only drank espresso. She said tea tasted like dirty water. Dirty water? I took a sip. The aroma was incredible. It didn’t taste like dirty water at all.

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