Category: English

In my ultra-wealthy, old-money family, the biological daughter was finally found. My entire adoptive family sat around, waiting for me—the fake daughter—to have a total mental breakdown and fight for their love. Instead, I just efficiently packed my bags. “I can finally leave? Oh my god, thank you. Seriously, thank you.” The real daughter stared at me, completely bewildered. “You don’t… you don’t hate me?” I patted her on the shoulder. “Honey, do you have any idea what the rules are in this house? “6:00 AM mandatory morning run. 8:00 PM strict curfew. No speaking allowed while eating. All romantic partners must be vetted and approved by the family board…” Her face went pale, inch by inch. I gave a cheerful, dramatic wave. “Good luck, sis! I’m going to go pursue my freedom!” 01 My phone buzzed aggressively. I was currently at my desk at work, slacking off and playing a video game. The estate’s head butler calling me scared me so badly my hand jerked, and my character instantly dropped dead on the screen. “Miss Harper, your father requires you to return to the main estate immediately.” I sat up straight, glancing at the date on the bottom right corner of my computer monitor. My heart tightened. Is this it? Finally? “Arthur, is it…” “Yes,” the butler said, his tone grave. “Miss Stella’s DNA results came back. Your father has sent the security detail to pick her up.” I practically launched myself out of my office chair. My cubicle neighbor, Mia, was still immersed in her own game. Startled by my sudden movement, her eyes went wide. “Whoa, Harper! Did you hit the lottery or something? Why are you so happy?” “Better than the lottery!” I replied, shutting down my computer at lightning speed. I grabbed the little potted succulent from my desk and shoved it into my tote bag. “I’m finally getting my freedom!” “…Okay, but why are you stealing the company plant?” “I’ve been raising it for three years. We have an emotional bond.” Half an hour later, I was standing at the front doors of the Thorne family estate, taking a deep breath. This is the last time, Harper Thorne. Perform this final act perfectly, and you are free from this gilded cage! 02 I pushed open the massive mahogany doors. The atmosphere in the living room was so heavy you could cut it with a knife. My dad, my mom, and my older brother, Connor. The three of them sat on the pristine white leather sofa in a rigid, perfect triangle. A very stable shape, mathematically speaking. “Dad. Mom. Connor.” I greeted them politely, one by one, keeping my voice sweet and submissive. My gaze swept over the glass coffee table, landing on the DNA test report. I kept my expression perfectly neutral. Internally, I was doing backflips. I wondered which limited-edition designer bags I should pack in my suitcase tonight. My dad didn’t notice the joy vibrating right under my skin. He gave a tactical, awkward cough. “Harper, sit down. We have some news…” “I’m the fake daughter switched at birth, the real one has been found, and she’s on her way home right now, right?” I interrupted, cutting right to the chase. “Where is she? I’ll go out to the driveway and welcome her.” Dead silence filled the cavernous hall. They all looked like they had just swallowed a lemon. Connor narrowed his eyes at me. “Harper, are you okay? Did the shock break your brain?” He paused. “Look, if you want to scream and cry, just do it. Don’t hold it in.” “Harper, Mom knows you must be devastated…” “Stop! Both of you. I am perfectly fine,” I said, holding up my hands. “When is my new sister arriving? Does she need help setting up her room?” My dad’s brow furrowed tightly. “Harper, you… you aren’t sad? You know we still love you…” “Why would I be sad?” I blinked rapidly, putting on my best innocent act. “Having a sister is amazing!” Three pairs of eyes stared at me with profound suspicion. They clearly didn’t buy it. In the script they had written for this moment, I was supposed to: A. Break down in hysterical tears. B. Flip the coffee table in a rage. C. Faint dramatically. They had probably already planned on waiting for me to calm down before letting Stella in the front door. “Stella is back. Your status in this family…” Connor said darkly, waiting, almost hoping, for me to finally snap. Sorry to disappoint, big bro. I just kept blinking, refusing to take the bait. Nobody can use my emotions against me if I don’t have any to give them. 03 Connor let out a cold sneer. “Pathetic act.” Then, like a petulant child demanding a show, he gestured to the butler. The butler immediately led in a girl wearing a simple, faded white dress. She was biting her lip, her expression terrified and anxious. She looked like a deer caught in the headlights. The moment I saw her face, I knew why the family had found her so easily. They didn’t even need a DNA test. She was the spitting image of my dad. I took a step forward. My family immediately tensed, their eyes darting between me and her like security detail waiting for an attack. I had to suppress a laugh. I walked deliberately slow, just to mess with them. Then, under their petrified gazes, I opened my arms wide. “Sister! Welcome home!” Stella froze, her eyes going round. She stammered, “You… you don’t hate me? I’m taking your place.” “Hate you? I can’t thank you enough!” Before I could say anything else to reassure her, a loud, theatrical wail erupted behind me. My mom threw herself forward like the lead actress in a soap opera, snatching Stella into a crushing hug. “My poor, suffering daughter!” My lip twitched. I silently sidestepped to give my dad and Connor space to join the performance. The four of them huddled together in a weeping mass. It was an Emmy-worthy display of family drama. I stood on the sidelines, watching their raw display of emotion. A tiny, fleeting sting of loneliness brushed against my heart. But it vanished quickly. I shook it off. While they were immersed in their sentimental reunion, I quietly backed away. I turned and bolted up the stairs, my movements swift and efficient as I started packing. The very first thing I did was pick up the book titled High Society Etiquette from my nightstand and chuck it straight into the trash can. Twenty minutes later, I appeared at the top of the stairs, dragging a massive suitcase. The expressions on my family’s faces instantly solidified into pure shock. “Harper Thorne! What are you doing? Have you lost your mind?!” Connor barked. “I’m just clearing space for my sister.” Stella stood to the side, looking utterly lost. “You don’t have to…” I saw how overwhelmed she was, so I patted her kindly on the shoulder. “Sweetie, do you know what the rules are in this house?” 04 She shook her head blankly. I started counting them off on my fingers. “Mandatory six AM morning runs. Strict eight PM curfews. No speaking allowed while eating. All romantic partners must be vetted and approved by the family board…” “Oh, right, I remember my very first date when I was seventeen. The family sent three bodyguards to follow us. They literally scared the poor guy so badly he transferred out of state the next day.” Her face went pale, inch by inch, and she looked at our parents with genuine terror. My mom interrupted me. “Harper! Stop scaring your sister!” “I’m not scaring her. I’m just listing the Tuesday schedule.” Connor was the quickest to react. He was the first to realize I was actually serious. He took a long stride, blocking my path. “You’ve been pampered and spoiled your entire life. Do you honestly think you can survive outside the Thorne estate?” I stopped and gave him a mysterious smile. “Connor, take a wild guess at how much secret slush-fund money I’ve saved up over the years.” “To be perfectly honest, right now, I just feel like thanking the heavens for finally setting me free.” Connor: “…” Stella grabbed the sleeve of my faux-fur jacket, tears welling in her eyes. “Sister, please don’t go…” I patted her head affectionately. “Be a good girl. You’re the sole hope of the dynasty now.” With that, I gave a cheerful, dramatic wave. I shoved my suitcase forward and walked out of the mansion without a single backward glance. “Good luck! I’m going to go pursue happiness!” Outside, my best friend Mia was waiting in her blacked-out SUV. Her jaw practically dropped when she saw my outfit. “Harper, are you running away to join a rock band?” I clattered down the driveway in my stilettos, breaking into a light jog. “This isn’t running away, it’s a jailbreak!” I buckled my seatbelt and yelled, “Go, go, go! Drive! Before they realize I’m actually leaving.” As the engine roared to life, I took one last look at the sprawling estate where I had spent over twenty years. I let out a laugh that sounded suspiciously like a supervillain. “I, Harper Thorne, am finally free!” Maybe it was my imagination, but as we drove away, I swore I heard my mom scream from the front door: “Stop her! She packed my vintage crocodile Birkin bag!!!” 05 “Alright, girl. Where are we going to celebrate?” Mia’s words reminded me of my new reality. Celebrate. Damn right. An event of this magnitude required a massive celebration. I excitedly rubbed my hands together. I pulled out the “Top 100 Things to Do After Escaping the Thorne Dynasty” note from my phone and passionately announced: “First stop: Greasy street-cart tacos! Second stop: The spiciest, cheapest ramen joint! Third stop: Late-night food truck burgers!” Outside the open windows, the wind rushed past. It carried the chaotic scents of the city, the smell of street food, the heavy aroma of fried onions and smoke. Back in the mansion, every single bite I ate was monitored by a private chef. Nothing that could make me gain weight. Nothing that could affect my complexion. Nothing with a strong smell was allowed. But now, I hung my head out the window and let out a triumphant cheer, screaming into the night sky: “Screw debutante etiquette! I’m going to eat whatever the hell I want!” “Okay, settle down. With your pampered, sensitive stomach, three bites of that street food and you’ll be in the ER,” Mia deadpanned, before adding meaningfully, “And besides, are you acting like Grayson Pierce doesn’t exist?” I instantly choked on my own laughter, my arrogant energy vanishing like smoke. Grayson Pierce. That name was like a bucket of ice water poured directly over my head. Mia saw my silence and clicked her tongue. “What? Scared now?” I forced a smile. “I’m not scared. But the engagement is a core exchange of business interests between two empires. The only reliable partner is a biological daughter. Who the hell am I in this scenario?” It was smarter to just proactively create some distance. “Please. You two grew up together. Grayson, to you…” “You’re overthinking it,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s a business arrangement. He’s cold and ruthless. He doesn’t care if his fiancé is Harper Thorne, Stella Thorne, or even my brother Connor, as long as they represent the Thorne family.” Who was Grayson Pierce? At sixteen, he was already forcing veteran negotiators to break into a cold sweat at the boardroom table. At twenty, he took over the family business, and his methods were so brutal they terrified the entire corporate world. He was the undisputed king of the business elite. Feelings were probably the least valuable commodity to him. I thought about it, my heart breaking just a little bit. “He used to be my fiancé, but now he’s just going to be my brother-in-law.” 06 The next day, I woke up around noon with a massive hangover. It felt like a freight train had parked on my skull. I groggily dragged myself out of bed. The sun was blindingly bright outside. I squinted at my phone—1:30 PM. Perfect. I had successfully slept through breakfast and lunch. Classic me. My phone was saturated with notifications from Mia’s text bombing: “Well? How was it? Was last night with Grayson enjoyable? Did you guys unlock any new locations? On the bed? On the sofa? In front of the mirror? Against the floor-to-ceiling windows? “Don’t thank me. I know you’ve been thirsting after his body for years, so it was only natural you couldn’t control yourself~” [Winking emoji.gif] “And honestly, Grayson looks incredible in a suit. I kinda want to bury my face in his chest, too.” ? What Grayson? What is she talking about? I rubbed my temples violently, trying to mine any shred of memory from the blackout, but my mind was a total void. I scrolled down to find one last notification. It was a video. The moment I clicked play, I almost threw my phone across the room. … In the video, my face was flushed red, my eyes were unfocused, and I was standing on a plastic folding chair outside a food truck. I was staring up at the night sky at a dramatic angle, looking incredibly moody, taking a loud sip from a juice box. Then, I spoke with profound seriousness: “Mia, you need to remember this—love will betray you, but cheesecake never will.” Mia’s voice came from off-camera, dripping with disdain: “? Speak English.” In the video, I dramatically pointed a single finger at the camera lens. With my other hand, I slowly pulled a snowy white chef’s hat from my tote bag and solemnly placed it on my head. My voice was funereal: “The old Harper Thorne is dead. “Standing before you now is the new and improved Harper— “The woman who is going to make sure this entire city has to wait three hours in line for her signature cheesecake!” Mia’s laugh was so violent the camera shook uncontrollably. “Haha, you total dork… wait!” Her voice suddenly cut off. “Look behind you…” In the video, I scoffed, not even bothering to look back. “Nice try. Last time we went to the club, you used the exact same…” The next second, the Harper in the video froze completely. Because in the lens, a long, pale, elegant hand had reached out and rested on my shoulder. In the video, I turned my head drunkly, locking eyes with a familiar pair of calm, slightly resigned eyes. It was Grayson Pierce. 07 Grayson Pierce was dressed in a perfect, tailored suit, his tie flawlessly knotted. He looked utterly out of place amidst the chaos and grease of the late-night food truck lot. And there I was, standing on a plastic chair, wearing a chef’s hat, waving around a juice box. The air in the video seemed to solidify. The Harper in the video blinked, then suddenly burst into a massive grin and poked him in the cheek. “Huh? Why would Grayson Pierce appear in a place like this? Am I dreaming…” I leaned in close to Grayson, squinting at him through a drunken haze. “But why is this Grayson Pierce so cold? He isn’t even smiling…” As I spoke, I suddenly grabbed his face with both hands and forced the corners of his mouth upwards— Manually giving him a “smile.” I had pushed his expensive glasses completely askew. Behind the lenses, the calm, unperturbed eyes actually widened in shock, his long lashes fluttering. The video cut off. Me: “…” My phone clattered onto the bed. I slid out of bed and onto the floor, burying my face in my hands, letting out a scream of pure despair. “Just kill me—” Just as I was contemplating how to gracefully fake my own death, my phone rang again. Caller ID: [The Iceman] I scrambled to pick up the phone, my voice trembling with guilt. “H-hello??” On the other end of the line, his voice was low, carrying a hint of exhaustion I couldn’t quite place: “You’re awake?” “Y-yeah, I’m awake…” I was reduced to a terrifying puddle of nerves. “Head hurt?” “I’m… I’m okay…” “Okay. The kitchen is on the second floor of my place. The housekeeper prepared some hangover soup for you.” Your place? I suddenly realized something. I looked around the room. It was a strange bedroom, decorated in an extremely minimalist black, white, and grey style. There was a half-finished iced Americano on the nightstand. This was Grayson Pierce’s bedroom! “Wait! Why am I at your house?” 08 There was a silence on the other end for about two seconds. “Last night you drank too much. You threw up all over me, and you got your own clothes dirty. “I said I would take you back to the Thorne estate, but you grabbed a streetlamp and refused to let go, saying, ‘I am never going back there, even if I die.’ “And then you grabbed my sleeve and asked me if I would run away with you, and asked if I was willing…” Me: “…” “Mia seemed to remember she had some kind of emergency. She took her car keys and left immediately, looking like she had made a solemn vow.” “So, I had no choice but to bring you back to my place.” My toes were already curling so hard I could have dug a trench in the hardwood floor from pure embarrassment. “So… so nothing happened, right? Like, nothing… nothing, or we didn’t do anything we shouldn’t have, right?” “…You don’t remember any of it?! Last night you…” His tone sounded genuinely incredulous, but he cut himself off halfway through the sentence. My heart rate instantly spiked to 180. A million explicit scenarios flashed through my mind. On the bed. On the sofa. In front of the mirror. Against the floor-to-ceiling windows. We… couldn’t have actually… done it… right? Harper Thorne, this is your future brother-in-law! You are an absolute animal! “I remember, I remember! It’s just… maybe I don’t remember… everything…” I gave a couple of dry chuckles, trying to hide the fact that I remembered absolutely nothing. From the receiver, I heard the sound of a fountain pen tapping on a desk. Tap—tap—tap— each one hitting my tightening nerves. A moment later, a faint, almost imperceptible sigh came from the other end: “Harper.” “Here!” I snapped, reacting automatically, standing up straight like a soldier at roll call. “You said yesterday…” He paused. “You wanted to open a bakery?” My heart skipped a beat. “Y-yeah…” “Do you need an investor?” I immediately waved my hands frantically, even though he couldn’t see me. This little business didn’t need investment. I had already done the math. With the cash I had saved up over the years, plus the money I would get from selling the designer bags I snagged from the house, I had more than enough to lease a commercial space! “No, no, I’m good. I have the money. Just make sure you come to my shop and support my business!” “Okay,” he agreed readily. “On opening day, I’ll be there.” My eyes lit up. That’s a giant cash cow walking right into my shop! On the other end of the line, Grayson watched the city skyline from his office, a faint chuckle escaping him, his voice laced with a strange, unspoken joy. However, right before the conversation was about to end, he suddenly said something completely out of nowhere: “What if I said I was willing?” Me: “Huh?” “…Nothing.” His voice instantly returned to its usual icy calm, as if that fleeting moment of vulnerability had been entirely my imagination. “Get some rest.”

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My parents were terrified I’d never get married, so they told everyone I was a “Security Consultant.” It wasn’t until a blind date that I finally tied the knot with a covert domestic abuser. Six months into the marriage, my husband desperately tracked down the most elite security firm in the city to hire a bodyguard for his own protection. I pushed open the door to the consultation room, a massive, brilliant smile on my face: “I’d be thrilled to provide my services! The only thing is… my rates might be a little steep. Can you afford it?” 1 I got married when I was 26. I met him—Arthur Sterling—on a blind date. He was handsome, and his family had money. But it was two specific things that locked me in within the first ten minutes. We were both dating with the goal of marriage, so we put all our cards on the table. I told him upfront that I had absolutely zero intention of ever having kids. He just smiled and said he thought the DINK (Dual Income, No Kids) lifestyle was actually pretty great. Boom. Accepting that single condition eliminated 99% of the dating pool right there. He didn’t smoke, though he drank occasionally for networking events. Acceptable! During our conversation, his thoughts were incredibly clear, and his reaction time was sharp. IQ: Check! He was honest about having two serious ex-girlfriends. They broke up amicably, and he didn’t say a single negative word about either of them. He didn’t make me uncomfortable. EQ: Check! I was extremely satisfied. Right then and there, I asked him if he wanted to just skip the games and get married. Arthur was visibly stunned for a second. “That fast? Don’t you want to get to know each other a little more first?” I explicitly told him I was perfectly fine with it, and the final decision was entirely up to him. His looks made me happy. His money could solve 90% of my current problems. A high IQ meant I wouldn’t suffer from “idiot allergy,” and a high EQ meant he could buffer most external conflicts. With specs like that, what was there to nitpick? 2 The very next day, our families met at a nice restaurant. Arthur’s parents and his younger sister all showed up. The whole family was ridiculously good-looking. On my side, my older brother was out of state for work, but my parents, my sister-in-law, and my little nephew all dressed to the nines. During dinner, Mr. Sterling was charismatic and chatty. He constantly placed food on Mrs. Sterling’s plate, and Arthur smiled and agreed with everything. They looked like the picture-perfect, harmonious family. My sister-in-law was thrilled for me. She leaned in and whispered, “Seeing how loving his parents are, Arthur is definitely a good catch.” I just pursed my lips and smiled, saying nothing. A good catch? Not necessarily. I had noticed that several times when Mr. Sterling raised his hand to serve food, Mrs. Sterling couldn’t control a slight, involuntary flinch. I put down my fork and excused myself to the restroom. While I was touching up my makeup in the mirror, a thin, fragile silhouette appeared behind me. It was Arthur’s younger sister, Mia. Mia walked up to the sink next to me. Her eyes were dull, and her voice almost blended in with the sound of running water. “What exactly do you like about my brother?” “Mmm… it’s not really about ‘liking’ him. It’s just that our conditions match perfectly.” She turned off the faucet and looked me dead in the eye through the mirror. “My family isn’t as perfect as you think it is. If you become my sister-in-law, you are going to regret it.” I asked, “Drugs? Gambling? Prostitution?” She shook her head. I asked again, “Undisclosed medical conditions?” She shook her head again. I asked one more time, “Domestic violence?” All the color drained from her face for a split second. She didn’t answer, but the silence was deafening. I stopped looking at her and focused on the mirror, gently wiping a smudge of red lipstick from the corner of my mouth. In an instant, I projected an aura of fragile, tragic vulnerability. “I don’t think I’ll regret it. It’s just a transaction of mutual needs. But thank you for going out of your way to warn me.” 3 From the blind date, to meeting the parents, to the engagement, to getting the marriage license—it took Arthur and me less than a month. Both families handled the entire process immaculately. I didn’t have to lift a finger or stress about a single detail. All I had to do was show up when required and build some rapport with Arthur. Arthur was incredibly good at providing emotional value. He frequently took me out to amazing dinners, planned weekend getaways, and constantly surprised me with little thoughtful gifts. He even took care of my friends, getting them small presents too. He was gentle, refined, and perfectly calibrated. In that short month, every single person around me sang his praises. So when I casually mentioned that he had violent tendencies, everyone just assumed I was making a dark joke. But I was dead serious. It wasn’t until I moved in after the wedding that I realized something insane: in the massive, sprawling Sterling estate, they hadn’t hired a single maid or housekeeper. Every single dirty, exhausting chore in the house was shouldered by the women. Meanwhile, the men didn’t lift a finger, acting as if their mere existence as “the pillars of the family” was enough to hold up half the sky. And right now, the older “half the sky” was currently giving me a lecture. “Since you’ve married into this family, you are a Sterling now. A married daughter is like spilled water. You need to maintain proper distance from the Vance family from now on. Taking your maiden family’s side over ours is the ultimate taboo in this house.” “The Sterling family has its own culture and rules. Learn from your mother-in-law and behave properly. Don’t disappoint us.” I glanced over at my mother-in-law, who was rushing around the kitchen without a second to rest. Then I looked at the Sterling father and son, sitting perfectly upright at the dining table, waiting to be served. I nodded obediently. Then, I sat perfectly upright right next to them, waiting to be fed. My father-in-law’s satisfied expression instantly froze on his face. He aggressively cleared his throat a few times. I pretended to be completely deaf, intensely studying the floral pattern at the bottom of my empty bowl. Arthur finally looked up from his phone. He nudged my arm. “Be good. Go help Mom in the kitchen. In our house, women aren’t allowed at the table until the men give permission.” I almost rolled my eyes so hard they got stuck. What century were we in? Women didn’t even have the right to sit at the dinner table? My hands were itching. I had an overwhelming urge to flip the table. But then I realized I still needed it to eat off of later, so I held back. I controlled my hands, but I couldn’t control my feet. As I turned around, I covertly delivered a brutal, full-force kick to the leg of Arthur’s chair. Before he could even process what happened, he was splayed out spread-eagle on the hardwood floor, letting out a muffled groan of pain. I looked at my father-in-law with wide, innocent eyes. “Is performing such an exaggerated bow before dinner also a Sterling family rule?” My father-in-law glared at Arthur in utter disappointment and kicked him. “Get up! You can’t even sit in a chair properly! You’re an embarrassment!” 4 On the kitchen wall hung a small chalkboard detailing the daily menus. The Sterling men dictated their cravings, and the Sterling women washed their hands and made the soup. For example, today the Sterling father and son had requested a massive spread: Millet porridge, dry-fried green beans, potato and beef stew, and a cold daylily salad… To prepare such an elaborate breakfast, no wonder my mother-in-law had to be up at 4:30 AM. She smiled apologetically at me. “It’s just a coincidence they requested all these complex dishes today. Usually, if it’s Western breakfast, it’s much simpler.” “Did you cook at home before you got married? Do you recognize all these ingredients?” “I don’t cook, but I’m extremely familiar with the ingredients.” As soon as the topic came up, I perked up, rattling off information like an encyclopedia: “Green beans contain toxic proteins like saponins. If they aren’t cooked thoroughly, consuming them causes food poisoning within 1 to 5 hours. Mild symptoms are headaches and dizziness; severe symptoms are nausea, vomiting, and agonizing abdominal pain.” “Fresh daylilies contain colchicine. Once ingested, it oxidizes into a highly toxic compound that aggressively attacks the gastrointestinal and respiratory systems, causing severe poisoning.” “And potatoes. Look here, these green spots. They contain solanine, a toxic alkaloid. Once they sprout, the concentration of solanine in the buds, roots, and green or rotting areas spikes exponentially.” After I finished my TED talk, I realized the kitchen had fallen into an eerie, dead silence. My mother-in-law forced an awkward laugh to break the tension. “You… you certainly know a lot, dear.” “It’s nothing. Anyone who’s killed people knows this stuff. Many common foods can be turned into lethal weapons. What I just mentioned is child’s play. The real pros use the principles of food combining to poison someone without a trace. The perfect, undetectable murder.” “Mother-in-law, if you’re interested, we can research it together sometime? It’s just a shame I get so few practical opportunities. My parents never let me in the kitchen before I got married. Sigh!” I shook my head, looking profoundly disappointed. As I turned around, I saw my father-in-law standing in the kitchen doorway, his face the color of oxidized iron. “Forget it, you come out. You don’t know how to do anything, you’re just making a mess in there.” 5 I have to admit, my mother-in-law was a phenomenal cook. The presentation, the aroma, the taste—everything was perfect. It was just that Arthur and his dad were complete buzzkills. Even incredible food couldn’t shut their mouths. “The beef is a little tough today. Hard to chew. Remember to slow-cook it longer next time.” “The green beans are a bit bland. Not spicy enough, not enough kick.” My mother-in-law kept her eyes down submissively. “Understood. I’ll pay attention next time.” I sat on the sidelines, eager to jump in. “Next time, let me cook! I have a secret family recipe.” The table went dead silent again. But after only a few minutes, my father-in-law couldn’t help himself. He started a new topic, and this time, he targeted my career. “Since you’re married now, you need to quit your job. The Sterling family has always operated with the man handling the outside world and the woman managing the home. A woman showing her face in public every day is disgraceful. Our family doesn’t need that pathetic little salary of yours.” Arthur chimed in. “Yeah, exactly. Mom is getting older, and Mia is living in the dorms for college. We need someone at home to help out.” Tsk. These men really had two completely different faces before and after the wedding. They sounded so supportive before, but now they were insufferable. And I highly suspect they repeatedly brought up these topics today specifically to assert dominance and establish the hierarchy over me, the new daughter-in-law. I offered a direct solution: “Then let’s hire a housekeeper. The house is huge; doing this all alone is exhausting for Mom.” Who knew my father-in-law would literally throw his chopsticks at that suggestion? “Hire a housekeeper?! Men work themselves to the bone out in the world and never complain, but the people enjoying the luxury at home are suddenly too delicate?!” My mother-in-law, sitting next to him, was splashed with soup broth. She trembled violently, frantically trying to clean up the mess while speaking in a terrified whisper. “We don’t need a housekeeper. I can handle it myself. Elara just got here, she doesn’t know how things work. I’ll…” Before she could even finish, my father-in-law delivered a brutal backhand slap across her face. “When men are talking, women do not interrupt! If you had set a better example as a mother-in-law, would this brat who just walked through the door dare to be so disrespectful?” Oh, hell no. My temper instantly flared. I had planned to give everyone some basic respect since we were newly married, but this guy literally threw his dignity in the trash! I can tolerate my mother-in-law, but I will absolutely not tolerate this! Since I was full anyway, I stood up and flipped the entire dining table over. “ENOUGH! If you have something to say, say it to my face. There’s no need to beat around the bush and use her to attack me. If things not going your way is what you call ‘disrespectful,’ then the world is full of disrespectful people. I’m just one more to add to the list.” “And I’m genuinely curious: is the Sterling family running an animal testing facility? The second a perfectly good person walks through your doors, they’re supposed to become a beast of burden?!” 6 Arthur, who had been playing dead since the chaos started, finally came alive when I rebelled. “Elara Vance! How dare you speak to an elder like that?! My dad is just trying to teach you for your own good. Don’t bite the hand that feeds you!” I aggressively swatted away the finger he was pointing at my face. “I’m not drinking any of your toxic Kool-Aid! I married you; I didn’t sell myself to you. What gives you the right to demand I quit my job? I absolutely refuse!” The exact second the words left my mouth, Arthur threw his glass of ice water directly into my face. I tilted my head. “Ah~ So refreshing~” In stark contrast to the ice water on my face, my blood was beginning to boil. Anyone who knows me knows I am the textbook definition of “looks deceiving.” I look fragile and easily bullied, but in reality, I am an absolute apex predator in combat. Unfortunately, the Sterling family didn’t know me. So, when I reached out, grabbed the back of Arthur’s head, and violently smashed his face directly into the potato and beef stew that had spilled onto the floor, everyone was paralyzed with shock. Arthur was the first to react. He frantically clawed the mashed potatoes off his face and lunged at me to teach me a lesson. I was disgusted by the food debris covering him. In the split second he lunged, I grabbed his clean hand, executed a flawless shoulder throw, and followed it up with a brutal kick that launched him across the room. He lay on the floor, his face twisted in agony, unable to get up for several minutes. I pulled out my phone, snapped a quick photo, and then kindly asked them, “Do you need me to call an ambulance?” “Do you need to call the cops?” “Do you need to invite your friends and relatives over to mediate this dispute?” Arthur managed to grind out two words through clenched teeth: “No need!” My father-in-law’s face had gone completely pale. He pointed a trembling finger at me, his lips shaking so hard he couldn’t form a complete sentence for ages. I brushed the nonexistent dust off my clothes, took a few steps toward him, and flashed a perfectly elegant, dignified smile. “Does my esteemed father-in-law have any other Sterling family rules he’d like to discuss with me?” He started trembling even harder. Tsk. People are just evolved monkeys. Some are just begging to be put in their place! You try to reason with them, and they don’t listen. They literally have to be beaten into submission to behave. 7 When I arrived at the office, my boss, Jenna, was just heading out to meet a client. “Working this hard? You didn’t even take a honeymoon?” she asked. “A client specifically requested me. I figured I’d go assess the situation first. Since you’re heading out anyway, I’ll ride with you.” The client’s name was Sarah. She was 24, married for less than two years, and had a baby just over three months old. According to her file, the first time her husband beat her was during her third trimester. Because the baby was due any minute, and her husband cried and begged, swearing he would change, she forgave him. But domestic violence has only two settings: zero times, or infinite times. She suffered two more brutal beatings before finally making the ironclad decision to file for divorce. Currently, the couple was in their mandatory divorce cooling-off period. However, the husband had an extreme, volatile personality. He completely ignored the restraining order issued by the court, constantly harassing, threatening, and intimidating her. He had even forcibly kidnapped their baby. Sarah revealed the dark, mottled bruises covering her body. The last sliver of hope flickered weakly in her eyes. “There are exactly ten days left in our cooling-off period. I want a divorce, and I want my baby back. Can you help me?” We’ve met clients like this before, and she certainly wouldn’t be the last. According to national statistics from women’s advocacy groups, domestic violence occurs in roughly 30% to 35% of households. Over 90% of the victims are women. Every single year, domestic violence destroys hundreds of thousands of families. And when a child is involved, the situation becomes infinitely more complex. In some cases, the child becomes a shackle chaining the victim to their abuser; in other cases, the child becomes a weapon wielded by the abuser. Although the law explicitly prohibits the snatching and hiding of children, the current legal framework, judicial interpretations, and practical enforcement lack effective punitive mechanisms. The legal liabilities for snatching a child are frustratingly vague. This is the exact agonizing reality that leaves countless mothers feeling helpless and devastated.

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I only found out later. The reason they didn’t come to pick me up themselves was because Maya had attempted suicide. No wonder everyone in that house treated me with such icy indifference. It turns out, they were terrified of triggering her. They explained to me later that Maya had a history of severe clinical depression. She had finally started to open up and become happy again. But my sudden reappearance caused a massive relapse. They asked me to be understanding. I didn’t care. If they didn’t love me, that was fine. I wasn’t starved for affection. I already had a family who truly loved me. 1 To say I wasn’t expectant would be a lie. What kid wouldn’t be expectant when they finally find their biological parents? When I found out from our nosy but well-meaning neighbors that my mom and dad weren’t my biological parents… I went home and cried my eyes out. But my parents managed to coax me out of it with a mountain of snacks, new toys, and endless promises. The main reason it worked was because they treated me so incredibly well. There was absolutely no difference between how they treated me and how other parents treated their biological kids. When I messed up, they would scold me and teach me the right way to do things. When I brought home good grades, they were bursting with pride. When I threw irrational tantrums, my dad would get so mad he’d give me a couple of swats on the rear, but never in front of other people. When I caught a severe flu and had a dangerously high fever, my mom cried her eyes out in the ER, and my dad stayed awake all night taking care of me. Every scrape or bruise I got made their hearts ache. Even after my little brother was born, they never showed an ounce of favoritism. Kids have short memories. Wrapped in the warmth of that home, I quickly forgot about the adoption revelation. I grew up happy and carefree all the way into middle school. Both of my parents were public school teachers, so my academic discipline was always pretty strong. Since elementary school, I had never dropped out of the top three in my grade. During the high school entrance exams, I overperformed and scored the second-highest in the entire city. The top two magnet high schools in the district both offered me full rides. While my parents and I were still debating which school would be a better fit… That was when my biological parents found me. It turned out that a while back, when I went to Chicago for the national finals of a physics competition, a chaperone parent—who happened to be a distant relative of my biological parents—thought I looked incredibly familiar. Apparently, my eyes and brow line were a carbon copy of my biological mother’s. Combined with the fact that I was the exact right age, she snapped a photo of me right then and there and sent it to my biological mother. My biological parents immediately launched an investigation and discovered I had been adopted by my current family. After that, it was a blur of police involvement, DNA testing, and legal paperwork. When the DNA results came back positive, the elegant, highly refined woman who looked so much like me completely lost her composure, holding me and sobbing uncontrollably. I could feel the overwhelming, uncontrollable emotion pouring out of her. The tall, broad-shouldered man standing next to her—my biological father—was also secretly wiping his eyes. My biological mother’s body trembled as she held me. She cried and laughed at the same time, saying thank God I was adopted by a kind family and didn’t have to suffer. Since the biological connection was confirmed, and I was a minor, the law technically favored me returning to my biological parents. But there was still a lot of paperwork to sort out on both sides, so they couldn’t just take me away immediately. I also needed time to properly say goodbye to the parents who raised me. When my biological parents left, they stopped the car several times before finally driving away. My biological mother got out of the car multiple times, hugging me tightly, looking back at me with every step she took toward the vehicle. They promised they would come pick me up in a few days. 2 Finding my biological parents and learning I wasn’t intentionally abandoned by them brought me a deep sense of joy. They told me the story of what happened when I was born. Shortly after I was born, a nanny they had hired stole some expensive jewelry from my biological mother. When she found out, she fired the nanny immediately. The nanny harbored a deep grudge. A few days later, she snuck back into the Vance family estate and abducted me. I vanished just like that, and they could never find me again. They didn’t know exactly what happened after that, but it was highly likely the nanny eventually just abandoned me. My current adoptive parents had adopted me from a local orphanage. They had been married for several years and couldn’t conceive, so they decided to adopt. I was incredibly lucky to cross paths with such a kind-hearted couple. They truly treated me as their own flesh and blood, pouring everything they had into raising me. When I was four, they miraculously conceived a child of their own—my little brother. They always said having a daughter and a son made their family perfectly complete. Knowing I was going to be separated from them and move to my biological parents’ home in Chicago, I hugged them and cried hysterically. I asked them if I could just stay. I wanted to keep living with them. As for my biological parents, I could just visit them during summer and winter breaks. Of course, my parents didn’t want to let me go, but they swallowed their own pain and gently reasoned with me. “We raised you for all these years, of course we don’t want to let you go. But they are your biological parents, and they’ve been searching for you for over a decade!” “As parents, the agony of losing a child is like having your heart ripped out. They’ve been living in torment every single day.” “The sheer miracle of finding you again… how could we possibly be cruel enough to stand in the way of that?” “Besides, we can tell they truly love you, which is the only reason we’re willing to make this sacrifice.” “And there’s another thing. Your biological parents live in Chicago, in one of the most expensive zip codes in the country. They are a true, old-money family.” “The resources and opportunities they can provide for you are things we couldn’t match even if we worked for several lifetimes.” “They can give you a much better life.” “But, Chloe, you will always, always be our daughter.” “Even if we don’t live under the same roof, remember that this house in Maple Creek will always be your home.” Despite the agonizing reluctance, I knew I had to leave. The one silver lining was that both my adoptive father and my biological father shared the last name Vance. Which meant I didn’t have to face the awkwardness of changing my last name. That night in bed, the faces of my biological parents floated through my mind. I realized that my features really did carry echoes of theirs. Especially my biological mother. I looked so much like her; it was no wonder that relative instantly thought of her the second she saw me. Maybe that innate biological connection was real? Thinking about the sheer joy and concern in their eyes, and their extreme reluctance to leave me, a wave of warmth flooded my heart. What would it feel like to live with my biological parents? Would they be as good to me as my mom and dad are now? A seed of anticipation began to take root in my heart. But, when the day came for me to be picked up, the only person who arrived was an older man who introduced himself as the Vance family butler. My biological parents did not personally come to take me home, as they had promised. 3 Under the butler’s guidance, I flew on a plane for the very first time in my life, and in first class, no less. When we landed in Chicago, only a driver was there to pick us up. The car navigated through the sprawling metropolis for over an hour before arriving at a stunning, gated residential community. Just as my parents had said, the Vance family was incredibly wealthy. The house in front of me was a massive, sprawling estate, exactly like the ones you see in movies about the ultra-rich. I had never seen a house this huge, or a yard this vast. There were people in the gardens using riding mowers to trim the immaculate lawns. I looked over curiously, and the butler told me they were just the estate staff and I didn’t need to greet them. Inside the luxurious, cavernous living room, there was only one woman standing there waiting. The butler said to her: “This is Miss Chloe. Please take her to her room and make sure she is settled in.” With that, he handed me off to this woman, “Martha,” and left. Martha took my suitcase, her tone perfectly respectful: “Miss Chloe, the Madam has already had your room decorated. Please follow me.” I followed her up the grand staircase. The room was on the second floor. It was massive, with its own en-suite bathroom and a walk-in closet. It was decorated in a very girly style; the furniture and wallpaper were all shades of soft pink. “Miss Chloe, you must be exhausted from the trip. You can rest for a while.” “Um—” I paused. I still couldn’t quite bring myself to say ‘Mom and Dad.’ “Are they… are they all busy?” Martha’s expression faltered for a second. “Ah? Oh, yes. The Mister and Madam are both busy.” I nodded and walked into the room. I opened my suitcase and hung all my clothes in the closet. It was a late summer afternoon. Aside from the faint hum of traffic in the distance, the entire mansion was eerily silent. My body was exhausted from the long trip, but lying in the massive bed, I couldn’t fall asleep. An inexplicable wave of grievance washed over me. When they left, they had been so reluctant to say goodbye. When they held me, they cried with such profound sorrow. The way they looked at me was so tender. She was the one who explicitly promised she would personally come to Maple Creek to pick me up. They were adults. They broke their promise. And now, they just dumped me in this massive house all by myself. Two liars. Maybe… maybe they really were dealing with a massive emergency and couldn’t get away? The CEO of the Vance Corporation, the matriarch of the Vance family… they sounded like incredibly busy people. Just like the executives on TV, constantly rushing from one crisis to the next. 4 In a hazy, half-awake state, I spent my first afternoon there. When I finally got up and looked out the window, the sky had already turned dark. Martha knocked on the door, calling me down for dinner. Right as I started eating, a tall, lean, and incredibly handsome teenage boy rushed into the dining room. “Young Master, why are you back so soon?” Martha looked shocked and hurriedly rushed over to greet him. I stared at the handsome boy under the chandelier, momentarily stunned. Even though it was our first time meeting, there was an undeniable familiarity to his face. I instantly guessed who he was. My older brother. I had heard Mrs. Vance mention before that I had an older biological brother, two years older than me. His name was Julian Vance. Mrs. Vance had looked apologetic, explaining that my brother was in Switzerland for an elite summer camp and couldn’t make it back in time to see me. She had emphasized: “Your brother was so incredibly excited when he heard we found you. He even picked out a gift for you. But the camp wouldn’t let him leave early, so he’ll have to meet you a little later.” I had nodded, expressing my understanding. Brother? That title felt very alien to me. But also very exciting. I’d heard that older brothers were usually very protective of their little sisters. Would he be like that? I felt another surge of anticipation. And now, my brother was standing right in front of me. I put down my fork, my hands balling into nervous fists. I hesitated, not knowing what my very first sentence to him should be. Should I just call him ‘brother’ right away? Would that seem too casual? But if I didn’t, would it seem impolite? While I was agonizing over it, Martha spoke up: “Young Master, you haven’t had dinner yet, have you? Perfect timing, you can eat with Miss Chloe.” “Chloe?” The boy seemed to finally notice I was there, his gaze sweeping over me. I gathered my courage, trying my best to smile naturally. “Hi, brother, I—” “Is Maya still at the hospital?” Julian interrupted me completely, looking directly at Martha. “Ah? Oh, yes.” Martha nodded. “But the Madam just called. She said Miss Maya is mostly fine now, and they should be home in an hour at the latest.” “Young Master, you should eat first. By the time you’re done, they’ll be arriving.” Julian immediately turned on his heel, taking large strides toward the front door. “I can’t wait. I need to see for myself that Maya is okay.” He was like a whirlwind. He arrived in a rush, and he left in a rush. After he left, I looked at Martha, staring blankly as I asked: “Who is Maya?” 5 “Miss Maya is the daughter the Mister and Madam adopted. She’s also the Madam’s biological niece.” Martha had originally only intended to give a brief summary. But perhaps the urge to gossip took over, and the more she talked, the more invested she got. I had absolutely no idea the Vance family had another daughter. They had never mentioned her to me. This girl named Maya was exactly my age, only two months older than me. She was the daughter of Mrs. Vance’s younger brother. When Maya was seven, her parents were killed in a tragic accident. During the car crash, her parents desperately shielded her with their bodies. At such a young age, witnessing the brutal death of her parents, the trauma was so severe that she stopped speaking completely. Psychiatrists diagnosed her with severe clinical depression. At that time, Mrs. Vance, who had lost her own daughter, felt a deep, empathetic connection with her traumatized niece. She brought the girl home, spent every day with her, and took her to countless specialists. While trying to heal Maya, she was also trying to save herself. Over time, the girl’s dependence on Mrs. Vance grew deeper and deeper. The two of them formed a profound emotional bond, mutually healing each other. As the days turned into years, Mrs. Vance and Maya slowly emerged from the shadows of their respective traumas. Their mental states gradually returned to normal. Maya even started speaking again. Reaching this point in the story, Martha couldn’t help but sigh: “These past few years have been incredibly difficult for the Madam and Miss Maya.” “To coax a smile out of them, the Mister and the Young Master have basically exhausted every trick in the book.” “When they finally started smiling again, that was when this house finally felt alive.” Saying this, she offered me a comforting look: “But now that you’re back, Miss Chloe, this family is truly complete. There are no more regrets.” “I am genuinely so happy for the Madam.” “Thinking back to those early years when she cried herself to sleep every single night… sigh, it’s better not to dwell on the past.” “Anyway, it’s nothing but good days from here on out.” Good days? I sat blankly at the dining table, staring straight ahead, feeling utterly lost in a fog of confusion. After finishing dinner, I sat on the sofa in the living room. Martha tried several times to persuade me to go upstairs, take a shower, and rest, but I refused. I stubbornly insisted on waiting for them to come home. Right around 10:00 PM, I finally heard noise outside. I looked over and saw several figures walking through the massive front doors. Mr. and Mrs. Vance, my biological parents, I recognized immediately. My brother, Julian, I had just met. But there was another girl with them, looking about my age. She looked incredibly frail and thin, her face paper-white. Mrs. Vance had her arm wrapped tightly around her shoulders. It was my first time in this strange new environment. I had spent the entire afternoon alone, and it was natural to feel timid and scared. Seeing familiar faces, I couldn’t stop myself from running toward them. I stood in front of Mrs. Vance, my eyes shining with joy, waiting for her to hug me. After all, just a few weeks ago, she had hugged me every single day, refusing to let go, looking terrified that someone might snatch me away again. But she didn’t hug me. Instead, she held the girl next to her even tighter and took a step back. She frowned, her tone laced with displeasure: “Watch where you’re going. Don’t bump into Maya. She has a weak constitution.” 6 Her expression made me feel like I was looking at a complete stranger. I glanced at Mr. Vance and Julian; both of them were looking at me with distinct disapproval. As if they were reprimanding me for being reckless. I felt completely paralyzed with awkwardness. I stood frozen in place, not knowing what to do. The three of them walked right past me, heading further into the house. I could see that Mrs. Vance’s eyes were entirely focused on the girl named Maya. She didn’t even spare me a glance out of the corner of her eye. Mrs. Vance helped Maya sit down on the sofa and instructed Martha: “Warm up a glass of milk for the Miss.” Mr. Vance and Julian crowded around her as well, their eyes full of concern. “Are you hungry? Do you want to eat something?” “Are you feeling uncomfortable anywhere?” “Do you want to go back to your room and rest?” The girl named Maya slowly shook her head. “I’m okay now, Mom, Dad.” Oh. So she called them Mom and Dad directly. Oh. So during the years I was gone, they had already gotten another daughter. Then, Maya turned her head, looked at me, and blinked. “So this is Chloe, your biological daughter?” Her voice was incredibly airy and light, making her sound like she lacked the energy to even speak. Mrs. Vance’s gaze never left Maya. She answered casually: “Yes. She’s two months younger than you, so she’s technically your younger sister.” It sounded like she was introducing a completely irrelevant person. I stood there awkwardly, digging my fingernails into my palms. “Oh right, Maya, I brought you a gift from Switzerland.” Julian spoke up. “It’s that designer plushie you’ve been wanting. I’ll go get it for you right now.” He got up, opened his suitcase, pulled out an elaborately wrapped box, and handed it to the girl. “Thank you, Julian.” The girl opened it, her eyes lighting up with joy, her tone delighted. I suddenly remembered what Mrs. Vance had told me: “Your brother was so incredibly excited when he heard we found you. He even picked out a gift for you.” A bizarre, stubborn defiance flared up in my chest, forcing me to stand there rigidly. As if I were waiting for something. But I waited, and nothing came. After Julian handed over the gift, the three of them watched adoringly as the girl showed off the plushie, discussing its origins and backstory. It felt like two distinct force fields had formed in the living room. Them in one, me in the other. I couldn’t cross into their world. Watching them patiently humor the girl and her plushie, I silently turned around and walked upstairs. That night, hiding under the covers, my grievance morphed into an uncontrollable flood of tears. They soaked half my pillow. 7 I missed my mom and dad so much. I abruptly sat up in bed. I opened my suitcase. Inside lay a solitary smartphone box. My parents had promised me that if I scored in the top three of my entire school on the high school entrance exams, they would reward me with a smartphone. They hadn’t even had the chance to buy it before my biological parents showed up, throwing everything into chaos. Right before I left, my dad rushed out of the house. When he came back, he shoved a brand-new smartphone directly into my suitcase. “A promise is a promise. Mom and Dad always keep their word.” He also handed me a new SIM card. “This is a secondary line attached to my account. It’s never been used. You use this for now, and you can switch to a local Chicago number once you get settled.” I took the new phone out and popped the SIM card in. I knew my parents’ phone numbers by heart. I immediately dialed my mom’s number. When the call connected, I had barely managed to say, “Mom, it’s Chloe,” before the sound of a little boy wailing like a banshee erupted from the speaker. “Chloe Vance, where did you go?!” “I only went to Grandpa’s house for half a month, how could you just disappear when I got back?” “You promised if I got first place on my finals, you’d take me to the arcade! You’re a giant liar!” As he kept talking, his tone shifted from righteous indignation to pathetic whimpering. “Mom and Dad said you found your biological parents. Are you ever coming back, sis?” “I already miss you so much, sis.” “How could you be so cruel and just leave me?” The tears I had just managed to dry started falling all over again. “Chloe, it’s Mom.” My mom’s gentle voice came through the receiver. “Don’t listen to your brother, he’s just throwing a little tantrum. Tell me, you’re back now, your biological parents must be thrilled, right? What kind of delicious food did they make for you? Are you adjusting okay over there?” Hearing my mom’s familiar, soothing voice flowing into my ear, my tears—which had finally stopped—began falling in massive drops once more. When people feel wronged, the hardest thing to bear is hearing the voice of someone who truly cares about them. Because the grievance instantly magnifies tenfold. I fought back the sobs, covering the phone’s mouthpiece, taking deep breaths to force my emotions back under control. When I finally spoke again, the tremor was gone from my voice. “They’re treating me really well. The house here is huge and incredibly fancy. The food is great, and my bedroom is the pink color I love. I’m adjusting perfectly fine.” My mom’s anxiety finally seemed to dissipate. “That’s wonderful. Focus on your studies, and whenever you have time, come back and visit. Your room here will always be waiting for you.” “Mhm. Sounds good, Mom.” Right before we hung up, I could still hear my little brother complaining loudly in the background: “I wasn’t done talking yet!” After that phone call, I felt significantly better. The negative emotions that had been suffocating me—the grievance, the resentment, the discomfort—vanished in an instant. I felt like my energy had been fully restored. Lying in bed, I started to think rationally. Maybe the girl named Maya really was just in very poor health. She looked so frail, so pale, she clearly didn’t look healthy. Martha had also said they had just gotten back from the hospital. So Maya must have had a medical emergency, right? When a girl you’ve raised since childhood gets sick—a girl who is essentially your own daughter—it’s completely natural for the whole family to be anxious and focused on her. This just proves they are deeply emotional people. It doesn’t mean they are cold and heartless, right? Was I being too petty by holding onto this? 8 The next morning, after getting washed and dressed, I hummed a little tune as I went downstairs. Seeing the family gathered around the dining table, I flashed a massive, bright smile and greeted them loudly. “Good morning, everyone!” As for what to actually call them, I genuinely didn’t know how to open my mouth. Mom and Dad? I couldn’t bring myself to say it yet. However, calling him “Brother” felt doable. I looked at Julian and said loudly, “Good morning, Brother!” Maya, who was looking down and sipping her soup, froze. The porcelain spoon slipped from her hand and clattered onto the floor. The other three immediately rushed over to her in a panic. “Maya, what’s wrong? Are you feeling sick again?” Maya’s expression looked like it was about to shatter, but she forced a brave, strained smile. “I was just startled hearing someone else call him ‘Brother.’ I’m just not used to it. I guess… I guess he’s not just my brother anymore.” The room plunged into dead silence. It took a long moment before Julian gently stroked the top of her head, comforting her softly: “Don’t worry. I’m your brother, and nobody is ever going to take me away from you.” Only then did Maya offer a genuine smile. I hadn’t done anything wrong, but sitting at that table, I felt incredibly uncomfortable. I just wanted to escape this awkward, suffocating situation as quickly as possible. After finishing my food, I put down my fork and practically sprinted upstairs to my room. Not long after, there was a knock at the door. I opened it. Julian was standing there. He spoke with an emotionless, flat tone: “From now on, don’t call me ‘Brother’ directly. Just call me Julian.” Perhaps seeing my bewildered expression, he cleared his throat and tried to explain. “Maya has a very weak constitution, and she’s extremely psychologically fragile. She can’t handle sudden shocks.” “You arriving so suddenly… she’s having a hard time processing it. Over time, as we all get used to each other, she’ll adapt.” “Okay, Julian.” I agreed obediently. He hadn’t been gone long when another knock came at the door. This time, it was Mr. and Mrs. Vance. They wore expressions of vague guilt and awkwardness. “Um, Chloe, as you can see, Maya is a very sensitive child.” “If you start calling us Mom and Dad, she—” “I understand.” I interrupted her with a smile. “I’ll just call you Mr. and Mrs. Vance!” Honestly, calling them Mom and Dad was something I couldn’t bring myself to do anyway. This saved me the trouble. Seeing me say this, they visibly relaxed. Mrs. Vance nodded approvingly. “I knew it. I knew from the moment I saw you that you were a very mature, understanding girl, Chloe.” She reached out, intending to pat me on the head. I instinctively took a step back, dodging her hand. A flash of hurt crossed her eyes. She froze for a second, but ultimately said nothing.

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I was officially dating the sweetest “puppy dog” boyfriend online. Every day, without fail, he’d send me photos of his abs. He was perfect. But the day before we were supposed to meet in person for the first time, he suddenly bailed. [Baby, I got jumped. It’s bad. Sobbing.] [My face is a mess. I can’t let you see me like this right now.] My heart completely broke for him. [Baby, who did this to you? What kind of animal puts their hands on you? Tell me who, and I swear I will end them!] His reply came instantly: [Julian Vance. St. Jude’s Hospital, Room 312.] I stared at the screen, and the metaphorical forty-foot blade I was ready to wield dropped from my hands. …Because I am Julian Vance. And just this afternoon, I had absolutely pulverized my insufferable stepbrother. 01 My phone buzzed. It was a message from my online boyfriend. [Baby, show me some skin.] I glanced at the screen, my ears heating up instantly. Is this guy crazy? It’s the middle of the day. I typed back: [Honey, I’m in my dorm room.] Y: [I don’t care. I’m having the worst day. I have to deal with two people I absolutely loathe in a few minutes.] [Baby.] [Pity party GIF.] Fine. I guess I have to spoil him. Luckily, my three roommates had just walked out. I locked the door, scrambled onto my bed, and started a video call. I didn’t show my face. Just… skin. … By the time we ended the call, I was drenched in sweat. I took a quick shower and headed straight for the Waterside Estate. Talk about ironies—I also had to deal with someone I absolutely loathed today. My stepbrother, who had never once looked me in the eye since day one. A year ago, after my mom remarried, we moved into my stepfather’s mansion in Waterside. I came back once a week for mandatory family dinner. And to inevitably run into Elias, my stepbrother. Today was no exception. As soon as I walked through the door, I saw him leaning back on the sofa, scrolling through his phone. He looked up and spared me a glance. His expression was anything but friendly. He had a shock of dyed blonde hair. If you didn’t know better, you’d think we owned a golden retriever that knew how to use a smartphone. My mom and stepdad, Arthur, were in the kitchen doing the cooking themselves. I let out a quiet scoff and sat down as far away from Elias as humanly possible. I pulled out my phone to reply to my boyfriend. Y: [Baby, I miss you so much~] [Being in the same room as someone I despise is actual torture.] I typed: [Tell me about it. I’m living that reality right now.] [Just looking at him makes me lose my appetite for dinner.] Y: [Ab shot photo.] [Don’t look at him, baby. Look at me.] Ugh, this look-but-don’t-touch thing is killing me. We’d been together for months but still hadn’t met up. Originally, we agreed to meet as soon as the semester started. Then he claimed he was too tan after basic training. Then he complained that some murderous barber completely ruined his hair. He definitely had a massive ego. Regardless, tomorrow was finally the day. We were actually going to meet. My mood immediately lifted. Even the insufferable blonde across from me didn’t seem quite as annoying. Mom brought the food out, and Elias and I shoved our phones away at the same time. I happened to glance at him, and the faint smirk that had been on his face instantly vanished. Me: “…” What a psycho. 02 At the dinner table, Mom and Arthur did most of the talking. Elias and I remained completely silent. We only spoke when absolutely forced to. The meal tasted like cardboard. After dinner, Arthur had an emergency at work and had to head back to the office. I was planning on leaving immediately, but Mom made me stay. Later that night, she brought a glass of warm milk to Elias. Elias didn’t take it. “How do I know you haven’t poisoned it? Trying to kill me off so your son can inherit my dad’s money?” My temper instantly flared. “Elias, take the milk or don’t, but watch your tone. Show some respect.” Elias turned to me, his expression dead. “What? Did I say something wrong?” “You think being a homewrecker and breaking up a family gives you moral ground?” I lunged and slammed a fist directly into Elias’s face. He tried to swing back. But I’d been training in boxing since I was a kid. I sidestepped, grabbed his wrist, and twisted it behind his back. “Apologize!” I spat, getting right in his face. He winced in pain, gritting his teeth, refusing to say a word. Mom started pleading, “Julian! Let him go!” I reluctantly released my grip. Elias had a toxic mouth and a rebellious streak. He always assumed I was after his father’s fortune. He always thought my mother had destroyed his parents’ marriage. Every time I wanted to teach him a lesson with my fists, I held back because of my mom. She genuinely loved Arthur. I didn’t want to make things hard for her. But today, I couldn’t take it anymore. Unexpectedly, the second I let go, Elias took advantage of the opening and landed a solid punch right on my nose. I didn’t have time to dodge. Son of a bitch. Just as I was about to retaliate and pulverize him, Arthur walked back in. Fuming, I grabbed my keys and went back to my dorm, refusing to stay another minute at the mansion. Mom sent me a novel’s worth of weary, pleading texts. I understood her position. I really did. But I was still furious. That animal Elias hit pretty hard. My nose was killing me. Back in the dorm, my roommate, Logan, looked at me in shock. “Holy shit. Your brother do that?” I gritted my teeth. “He did. But I don’t have a brother.” Logan teased, “Don’t you usually make your online sweetheart call you ‘Big Daddy’?” I glared at him, pulled out my phone, and said, “Don’t compare Elias to my baby. I need to get some sympathy from the one person who actually cares about me.” I opened messages, and he had already sent several texts and a photo. The photo only showed his profile. His lip was cut and swollen. [Baby, I got jumped. It’s bad. Sobbing.] [My face is a mess. I can’t let you see me like this right now.] Why is today such a clusterfuck? Both me and my baby got beaten up. My heart completely broke for him: [Baby, who did this to you? What kind of animal puts their hands on you? Tell me who, and I swear I will end them!] Y: [Julian Vance. St. Jude’s Hospital, Room 312.] 03 I froze. My entire body turned to ice. I turned my phone off, then unlocked it again. I rubbed my eyes hard. I pinched my thigh as hard as I could. It hurt like hell. I wasn’t dreaming. I hadn’t misread it. My baby was saying I was the one who beat him up. A million things flashed through my mind at once. My baby is a freshman at St. Jude’s. Elias is a freshman at St. Jude’s. My baby’s username is Y. Elias’s last name is Yale. At this point, I had to face a brutal reality. My online boyfriend was Elias Yale. In the dorm room, I let out a gut-wrenching, agonizing roar: “FUCK!” Logan ripped his bed curtains open in terror. “What is wrong with you?!” I waved a hand at him, looking like I’d just welcomed death. Then, I let out a squeal like a terrified gopher. Just thinking about the fact that I’d been calling Elias “baby” every day. Thinking about Elias calling me “darling” and “hubby.” Thinking about the video calls we had… where we both showed… things. To each other. I wanted to die. I actively wanted the ground to swallow me whole. No wonder I thought his voice sounded familiar the first time I met him. But at the time, I’d dismissed the possibility that he was my online boyfriend within a fraction of a second. That guy always had a frozen, resting-bitch-face, like the whole world owed him money. How could he possibly be my sweet, obedient, “puppy dog” baby? In this moment, I regretted everything. I should have been more suspicious. Every time I went back to Waterside, I complained to “Y” about my awful stepbrother. We both knew the other person had someone they absolutely despised in real life. Who would have guessed the despised person was… us? I was in absolute agony, and I couldn’t tell a soul. I didn’t sleep a wink. I scrolled through my entire chat history with Elias. It was a mess of emotions. How could my perfect baby be Elias? After a night of torture, I came to a decision. Since we hadn’t met up yet, I needed to make a clean break. Now. Run! I texted Elias, telling him I’d suddenly met someone in person at school that I really liked. Then I broke up with him. I blocked him and deleted his contact immediately. My heart felt completely hollow. Online dating is a curse! I am never doing this again as long as I live. Over winter break, I was on my Xbox, trying to rank up in Call of Duty. I was in a 1v1 matchup against another player in the same tier. The other guy kept calling in teammates for help. He was beating me, and I was getting pissed. After the match ended, I invited him to a private 1v1 duel. I absolutely annihilated him. Finally, I felt a sense of release. He sent a friend request. We started playing Doubles together frequently. After talking for a while, it became clear we both… leaned the same way. He was three years younger than me and started calling me “Daddy.” I was completely whipped. One thing led to another, we set up “partner” tags in-game, bought matching skins. We started dating. Knowing he was coming to St. Jude’s as a freshman, becoming my schoolmate… I was so excited I couldn’t sleep that entire night. Thank god he had such a massive ego back then, so we never met up. Otherwise, I can’t even imagine that scene. It would have been pure hell. 04 I spent the entire next day asleep in my dorm room. I woke up in the late afternoon to a call from my mom. “Your stepdad called Elias into his study early this morning. They talked for hours.” “Then, Elias came out and gave me a very awkward, stiff apology.” “When you have some time, you should talk to him, too.” I let out a sigh. “I have nothing to talk to him about.” “As long as he doesn’t say awful things to you, I’m fine with leaving him alone.” Mom sighed on the other end. “I suppose that’s for the best.” “I saw him sitting out in the garden alone this afternoon, crying. I’m afraid something terrible must have happened.” “His eyes were swollen shut from crying.” “I didn’t dare ask him. When I tried to get him to eat, he said he wasn’t hungry.” I froze. Could this be because I broke up with him? After hanging up, I opened Snapchat and saw a dozen new friend requests from fake accounts. The accompanying messages were heartbreaking. [Darling, everything was fine yesterday. Why did you suddenly break up with me today?] [Did I do something wrong? Tell me, I’ll change. I’ll do anything.] [Please just accept my friend request so we can talk, okay?] [Baby, I’m in so much pain.] My heart twisted. I turned the phone off. How is this kid a completely different person online versus in real life? Monday, on my way to class, I ran right into Elias in the hallway. I scanned him. The cut on his lip still hadn’t healed. His eyes were indeed swollen. He stared at me with an icy, dead expression. I quickly looked away. Frozen, my ass. If you knew who I was, I wonder if you’d still be acting like this. If I was a bad person, I could play you like a fiddle. For the next few days, I had zero appetite. Logan knew the whole story by now and kept sighing about “cruel fate.” To distract myself, I dragged Logan to play basketball all afternoon. As dusk fell, we walked past the quad and saw a student band setting up for an open-mic night. We grabbed a random spot on the grass and sat down. Until I heard a voice I knew too well. “I’d like to dedicate this next song to someone at this school.” The backing music started—it was “The Long and Winding Road” by The Beatles. Elias actually had a beautiful singing voice. It was deep and resonant. Very alluring. His pronunciation was perfect. Back when we were dating over the phone, I always made him sing for me. This was my favorite song. When he finished, the quad erupted in thunderous applause. Elias had already made a name for himself during freshman orientation with his looks. After this song, he’d probably double his admirers. Logan said, “I did some asking around. Elias has put out the word that he already has someone he likes.” I buried my face in my knees and replied, “I don’t want to know!” Elias was tireless, sending me friend requests from new accounts every day. [I sang a song for you at the quad open-mic tonight. Did you hear it?] [Baby, I think about you every single second of every day.] God, he’s annoying. The more I see it, the more annoyed I get. The more annoyed I get, the less I can sleep. 05 Luckily, Arthur and Mom were going away on another vacation. I didn’t have to go back to Waterside and see Elias. I was hiding out in my dorm, playing video games, when I got a call from Arthur. His tone was strained. “Julian, can I ask you for a massive favor? Could you go check on Elias?” “He’s sick. He won’t go to the hospital, and he’s just locked himself up in that apartment I got him near campus.” After hanging up, I threw some clothes on and sprinted for Elias’s off-campus apartment building. I wasn’t worried about him. I was simply doing Arthur a favor. I knocked on the door for a while, but got no answer. So I entered the code Arthur had given me. There were several empty beer cans on the coffee table in the living room. I pushed open the bedroom door. There was a large lump under the covers. I pulled the comforter back. Elias’s face was flushed dark red, and his forehead was drenched in sweat. His temperature was dangerously high. This kid is going to kill himself. I started running around, getting a thermometer, making him take some ibuprofen. Then I used a cool towel to wipe the sweat from his forehead. He was frowning deeply, like he was having a nightmare. He started talking in his sleep. “I was wrong.” “Don’t leave me.” “Baby.” He was clutching my hand with terrifying strength. My heart suddenly felt like it was being pricked by a needle. I used my other hand to gently pat the back of his hand and said softly, “I’m not leaving.” Elias calmed down almost instantly. I stared at him closely. He actually looked pretty peaceful when he was asleep. He wouldn’t let go of my hand, and I couldn’t pry it loose without waking him. Before I knew it, I slumped against the edge of the bed and fell asleep, too. I woke up because my arm was completely numb. When I opened my eyes and tried to stretch, Elias was leaning against the headboard, watching me warily. Holy shit, you scared me. He asked, “What are you doing here?” Seeing his cold, distant demeanor again made me instantly furious. I snapped, “I’m here to take care of you, obviously.” “Arthur was afraid you were going to burn your brains out.” He looked slightly taken aback, and his tone softened a fraction. “Thank you.” I let out a cold scoff and checked the time. 3:00 AM. I was sweaty and gross. I wanted to take a shower. Ten minutes later, I walked out of the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around my waist. Elias was leaning against the door frame like some kind of sentry. I almost jumped out of my skin. My hand slipped, and the towel dropped to the floor. Furious and mortified, I snapped, “What is wrong with you? Are you standing there just to give me a heart attack?” He stared at me, and his gaze suddenly darkened. I realized he was staring at my waist. Crap. I used to send him photos of my abs all the time. I had a mole on my collarbone and another one right on my lower back, in the small of my waist. I frantically grabbed the towel and wrapped myself up. Close call. Too close. 06 I slept in the guest room. The next morning, I took Elias’s temperature, and it was normal. I let out a sigh of relief, then turned to him. “I’m leaving.” Elias called after me, looking like he was forcing himself to say something incredibly difficult: “Thank you again for taking care of me last night.” “And… about what happened the other day. I’m sorry.” “I shouldn’t have said those things to your mother. I was wrong. I misunderstood her.” I waved my hand and told him, “You’re apologizing to the wrong person. Tell my mom.” “I’ve already sent her an apology text.” I replied, “Then we’re good. After all, I pulverized you.” Elias: “…” He continued, “I used to think my dad abandoned my mom, but I just recently found out the truth. My mom abandoned my dad. And she abandoned me, too.” “She moved abroad with another guy.” “It feels like… I’m always being abandoned.” Elias’s voice got quieter and quieter, looking utterly lost and dejected. My breathing hitched. I turned around and said, “Don’t overthink it. Arthur loves you more than anything.” “You just started your freshman year. Stop skipping classes, and stop drowning your sorrows in beer.” Elias fell silent for a moment. I figured I’d successfully shut him up with my “dad lecture.” Then, I heard him say, “Julian, I swear your voice sounds more and more familiar every time I hear it.” My stomach dropped. I gave a forced, awkward laugh. “I have a generic voice.” I fled the apartment as if it were on fire. I had just gotten to the bottom of the apartment building when my phone rang. Mom. “Julian, sweetie? You and Elias seem to be getting along a bit better?” “Arthur said Elias just asked him for your Snapchat username.” I stopped dead in my tracks. My phone slipped from my hands and hit the pavement. I stood there, a total disaster. I only have one Snapchat account. I don’t have a burner. I told myself: You are dead. You are so dead. 07 I was wandering down the street like a zombie, trying to call an Uber. Then, I heard fast, urgent footsteps behind me. What will be, will be. Elias ran up to me, panting, staring at me in absolute disbelief. “Julian. It’s you.” I turned around, forcing myself to look calm. “Yeah. It’s me. Disappointed? Trust me, the feeling is mutual.” “So you can stop sending me friend requests now. I’m tired of blocking them.” Just as I finished speaking, my car arrived. I scrambled into the backseat. For the next few days, my friend request page on Snapchat was finally quiet. I sat on my bed, staring at my phone. This was exactly what I wanted. I should have been happy. But my heart was thoroughly twisted in knots. See? Elias Yale hates Julian Vance. The only person he loved was that imaginary guy online. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. Wait, what am I even angry about? Oh, I knew what I was angry about. The truth was, I still really loved my puppy dog baby. Even knowing he was Elias. Or to put it another way—I loved Elias. I couldn’t stop looking at him. I was completely drawn to him. I walked down from the second floor of the mansion. The maid was in the kitchen cooking. Arthur and Mom were on the sofa, talking. I was planning to head back to school immediately. Arthur asked, “Julian, you aren’t staying for dinner? Elias will be here in a few minutes.” I used “urgent schoolwork” as an excuse and bolted out the door. Talk about bad timing. The second I walked out of the gate, I ran right into Elias. And the girl he’d been seen with at school this afternoon. He’s bringing her home to meet his dad? Things are moving that fast? I walked right past them, ignoring them completely. Elias called out, “Julian, where are you going?” I snapped, “None of your business!” I walked away as fast as I could. None of my roommates were back yet. I was alone in the dorm. I lay on my bed, my chest feeling tight. Am I officially heartbroken? I was deep in thought when I heard a knock on the door. I opened it. Elias. “Julian, your mom said you were in a terrible mood. What’s wrong?” I spat back, “Why aren’t you with your girlfriend? Why are you here bothering me?” He looked confused. “I don’t have a girlfriend.” “The girl I was with this afternoon? That’s my cousin. She’s my uncle’s daughter.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “402461”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I agreed to a marriage of convenience with my childhood frenemy, who happened to be deaf. We did the deed every single day. No feelings involved, just pure technique. When our five-year contract was up, I planned to terminate it immediately. But then, a memory flashed in my mind: him, unable to hear the blaring horn, almost getting hit by a car while trying to buy me a caramel apple. My heart instantly softened. Just as I was heading upstairs to talk to him, to see if he wanted to just keep living together like this, I heard his buddy joking with him in the hallway: “Bro, are you addicted to playing deaf?” Liam toyed with his hearing aid, leaning against the wall with a low, smirk-laced chuckle: “Only when I’m deaf can she feel completely free to be herself.” Standing on the other side of the wall, my mind went totally blank. Wait. All those filthy, dirty things I whispered in bed… he heard all of them?! 1 Most people have a secret crush on their childhood friend. Not me. I had pure, unadulterated hatred for mine. I hated him for throwing a lit firecracker into a pile of dog crap when we were kids, blowing it all over me. I hated him for sticking gum in my hair in middle school. I hated him for ditching study hall in high school and making me take the fall. Other people’s childhood friends are sweet and considerate. Mine felt like I ordered a luxury item, it went out of stock, and they sent me a random, annoying “free gift” that I couldn’t get rid of. In all the years we hung out. There wasn’t a single good memory. The bad memories could fill a dumpster. Thankfully, right after we graduated high school, he went to college abroad, allowing me to enjoy four peaceful years of university life. Who knew that right after I graduated college, I would run into the one person I least wanted to see from my youth? And then came the even more terrifying bad news: my family’s business went bankrupt, and my totally unreliable father decided to marry me off to secure funding. “My ears might never fully recover. Technically, I’ll always be partially disabled. If you’re not willing…” Sitting across the table, Liam kept his head down. Even his impeccable, expensive bespoke suit couldn’t hide his insecurity. There was absolutely no trace of the arrogant, cocky boy from our youth. When I didn’t say anything, Liam’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the table. His eyes were filled with a heartbreaking vulnerability. “I understand. I’ll tell Mr. Davis to call off the…” Wait! I suddenly snapped back to reality. I finally processed what he had just said. His ears were damaged? A jolt of electricity shot through me. I took a large step forward, right in front of him, and finally noticed the hearing aid hidden beneath his messy hair. “Chloe, is humiliating me fun for you?” Liam’s eyes darkened, a hint of his familiar, teeth-gritting annoyance creeping back into his tone. “How did it happen?” I asked. Liam was momentarily stunned. “When I was studying abroad, I didn’t know how to use an induction cooktop. It exploded and damaged my hearing.” “…” “You…” “I’ll marry you! I’ll marry you!” I covered his mouth just as he was about to speak again. Staring into his wide, dumbfounded puppy-dog eyes, I tried desperately to suppress the wild joy erupting in my chest. Growing up, I could never win an argument against Liam. For every sentence I threw at him, his rapid-fire mouth would shoot back ten. Hell yeah! If I just took out his hearing aid, I could curse him out until the end of time! 2 “Liam, are you part dog or something?!” Clutching my red, swollen, and stinging lips, I viciously shoved against Liam’s muscular chest. He didn’t budge. Instead, he pressed in even closer. The pain made me cry out involuntarily. “Liam! Stop moving! “Get the hell off me!” Liam paused his movements, squinting as he read my lips. “Wifey, what are you babbling about? I can’t understand you.” Then he just kept going. “…I’ve had it with you! Put your damn hearing aid in!” I reached out toward the nightstand to grab his hearing aid. A large, burning hot hand forcefully covered mine, aggressively lacing his fingers through mine, and pinned my hand above my head. Liam’s scorching breath washed over my neck. It sent a shiver down my spine. I looked up. The man lazily half-closed his eyes. His gaze was deep and dark, his voice husky: “Wifey, when we’re doing this, you don’t need to hear anything.” 3 After reaching an agreement at the restaurant that day. Liam and I went straight to the courthouse and got our marriage license. But I wasn’t stupid. After all, it was a marriage of convenience. At the end of the day, it was a relationship built on mutual exploitation. Helping my family’s business survive the crisis was enough. Did they really expect me to tie myself to this guy for the rest of my life?! I didn’t even like him. The term was five years. Liam was under massive pressure from his parents to get married, and he needed a proper, understanding wife for public appearances. And out of all the candidates presented to him, I was the most suitable option. We both got what we needed. When the benefits dried up, we’d part ways. Liam readily agreed and signed the contract. On our wedding night. Lying on the massive, rose-petal-covered bed, a wave of delayed panic finally hit me. I hadn’t thought this through completely. He needed a wife, and I needed the alliance. We were actually married. We weren’t playing house. Were we… going to do that? While my mind raced, the sound of the shower in the bathroom gradually stopped. Liam walked out wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. Steam billowed out behind him. He hadn’t blow-dried his hair. It was wet, hanging over his forehead, water droplets still falling. They traced a path down his chest, disappearing into the V-line of his abs. Squinting for a closer look, Liam had a perfect swimmer’s build. Broad shoulders, narrow waist. Before I could inspect any further, Liam started walking toward me. My heart tightened. Is he going to… I swallowed hard. Isn’t this a little too fast? “Liam, I don’t think I’m quite ready for—” As he walked past my side of the bed, I squeezed my eyes shut and death-gripped the edge of the blanket. A breeze brushed past. The touch I expected never landed on me. The closet door next to me opened. Liam pulled out a spare comforter and smiled at me. “I’m going to sleep in the guest room.” ? He’s disgusted by me? I looked down at myself. Sure, I wasn’t Dolly Parton, but this was a massive insult! “Liam, do you think I’m too small?” A surge of pride-trampled anger erupted from the bottom of my heart. Liam didn’t turn around. “What is that supposed to mean?! We both agreed to this marriage! It wasn’t just my idea! “Are you looking down on me?! “I’m at least a C-cup, okay?! I’m not that small! “Hmph, you think you’re so huge?!” I unleashed a furious barrage of words. And the guy didn’t even turn his head. One more step, and he really would have disappeared into the next room. My eyes burned red with anger. I bounced right off the bed and tackled him from behind, landing squarely on his back. “Fulfill your marital obligations to me right now!” Liam looked completely bewildered as the towel around his waist was kicked off by my flailing legs. The moment my racing thoughts crashed into the mattress. I finally realized he wasn’t intentionally ignoring me. The idiot simply wasn’t wearing his hearing aid. 4 My marriage of convenience with Liam was much happier than I had imagined. We were old acquaintances, after all. Plus, by the time we got married, he had already taken over his family’s company as the CEO, and he was so busy I barely saw him during the day. What he left me with was peace, quiet, and a limitless black AMEX. Liam finished the last bite of his oatmeal, stood up, adjusted his cufflinks, grabbed a file folder, and prepared to leave for the office. I looked up from my bowl of oatmeal. “You’ve been so busy lately.” The clock on the wall showed it was only 8:00 AM. Usually, after we ate breakfast, he would sit and read the financial news for a bit, or chat with me before leaving. Liam loosened his tie slightly and walked to the door to put on his shoes. “Your dad has a project that he’s pushing really hard on. I need to go keep an eye on it.” Your dad… Whenever he said that, he meant my father. Doing the math, this was the fourth year we had spent together. And he was still working his ass off for my dad. I suddenly thought of the contract. Speaking without thinking, I blurted out: “Our arrangement is almost at the end of its term. You don’t have to work so hard for him anymore.” Liam’s hand, resting on the door handle, froze. The air in the room grew heavy and silent. Even though our marriage started as a contract, five years is a long time to spend living with someone day in and day out. Saying that now made it sound like I was just going to kick him to the curb the second I finished using him. I was just about to explain that that wasn’t what I meant, but Liam rushed to speak first: “I’ve just been too busy lately. We’ll talk about it later. “Oh, right, I have to fly out of state for a business trip tonight. Text me if you need anything.” Right before he left, I saw him awkwardly fiddle with his hearing aid. In that moment, it felt like a silver needle had been driven straight into my heart, causing a sharp, uncomfortable ache. He was feeling insecure again. Insecure about his hearing. Did he think I was disgusted by him because he was partially deaf? 5 In the beginning, I fully intended to cancel the contract the second the five years were up. But over the past four years, we had meshed perfectly in almost every way. As long as Liam wasn’t out of town, we basically did the deed every single day. On normal, quiet days, Liam would accompany me shopping, take me to theme parks, and go on vacations with me. At first, I didn’t really see him as a “husband.” He was just the guy I grew up with. Hanging out together didn’t feel awkward or unnatural. In fact, after being together for so long, I even started to struggle on the nights he wasn’t there to hold me while I slept. Like right now. Lying alone in a massive, empty bed. Staring at the empty chat log on my phone. I felt an inexplicable, restless anxiety. He had explicitly said to text him if I needed anything before he left this morning. It had been three hours since I sent a message, and there was dead silence on his end. Dammit. Did he get hit by a car or something?! A chill ran through my entire body, and I literally shot up in bed, terrified. During Christmas last year, Liam and I didn’t go back to either of our parents’ houses. Instead, we just had a simple, quiet dinner at home, the two of us. After eating, we wrapped ourselves in one long, oversized scarf and went for a walk down the street. I saw a street vendor selling caramel apples and threw a fit, demanding one. Liam pulled his head out from under the scarf, re-wrapped me tightly so I wouldn’t get cold, told me to stay put, and walked over to buy it. It was just across one street. Who could have known that a car’s brakes would fail? Liam wasn’t wearing his hearing aid. As he walked back toward me, he was even smiling and waving the caramel apple at me. If Liam hadn’t jogged the last few steps… I wouldn’t even dare imagine the consequences. He hadn’t realized how close danger had come to him at all, just smiling like an absolute idiot. He shoved the caramel apple into my hand, saying he had bought one of every flavor they had, so I could eat until I was full. Even my own father was too lazy to buy me a caramel apple when I asked. But Liam? He only regretted that he couldn’t pluck the stars from the sky and hand them to me. I don’t know if I was just traumatized by the sudden accident that day, or if Liam’s smile under the streetlights was just too beautiful. But my heart had secretly skipped a beat. The Liam of today is a good man. Even if the teenage version of him was an absolute terror. Buzz, buzz— The phone vibrating pulled me back from my thoughts. Liam: [Just finished a meeting. What’s up?] The heart that had been lodged in my throat fell back into its rightful place in my chest. I suddenly felt like there were some things… I needed to tell him face-to-face. 6 By the time I landed in Seattle. It was already the morning of the next day. There hadn’t been any red-eye flights available. I had to take the earliest morning flight I could get. After getting off the plane, I got the exact address from Liam’s assistant and rushed over without stopping for a breath. When I see him in a little while, what should I say? Just keeping living together like this… actually seems pretty great. Liam is a solid choice for a life partner. We know everything about each other. So what if his ears don’t work perfectly? Whether we “like” each other or not, in families like ours, that usually isn’t a high priority anyway. I think I’d be pretty willing… to spend the rest of my life with him. His abs are great to touch. His face is fun to squish. His lips are highly kissable. And, if I take out his hearing aid, I can curse him out without any consequences. What other man would just take me swearing at him like a mute? I think only a guy like Liam could meet all my requirements. I suddenly regretted being so overly cautious back then. I wasn’t even sure if Liam would be willing to tear up the contract and stay with me. I finally gathered the courage to walk into the office building. I pulled my phone out of my trench coat pocket, preparing to call Liam. A familiar voice drifted from the stairwell behind me: “Bro, are you addicted to playing deaf?” What playing deaf? I froze in my tracks, turning my head slightly. A familiar face came into view. It was Liam’s best friend. I had met him before when Liam brought me to a charity gala. Liam had his back to me. He was toying with the hearing aid he had just removed from his ear. Half of his face was hidden in the shadows, but his tone carried a distinct smile: “Only when I’m deaf can she feel completely free to be herself.” “But your hearing fully recovered months ago. You can’t keep this from her for the rest of your life, can you?” “We’ll see how it goes.” “Alright, man. But you should probably tell her sooner rather than later. You’re husband and wife, after all. Keeping secrets is never a good thing.” … A massive ringing exploded in my brain. I didn’t hear whatever was said next. It sounded like they had a meeting to get to; the two men walked away side-by-side. I hid inside the fire exit stairwell, trying to process those few sentences. Liam’s hearing was fine. The reason he hid it from me was so I could “feel free to be myself.” He didn’t like wearing his hearing aid at home. I always assumed he just found it too noisy and took it off to focus on his work. Who could have known his hearing had actually been recovering this whole time! I always assumed he couldn’t hear, so I constantly acted like an absolute lunatic around the house. Did that mean he heard me when I was ripping massive farts in the living room?! And even more terrifyingly— All those filthy, dirty things I whispered in bed… did he hear all of them?! 7 As I was sprinting through the airport, ready to flee back home. Liam’s call suddenly came through. “My assistant said you came looking for me?” Hiss. I almost forgot. I had contacted his assistant to ask for his location. I stopped dead in my tracks in the terminal, spouting absolute nonsense: “I was bored at home, so I flew up here for a little vacation.” “…What a coincidence?” I gripped my phone tightly, staring intently at the tips of my shoes. Liam’s face involuntarily floated into my mind again. This was exactly what I had come here to do in the first place. But those things I said in bed… He heard them. He heard them! Whatever. We’re still legally husband and wife right now, anyway. Is it a crime for a wife to talk a little dirty to her husband? Is it illegal? Are the morality police going to come arrest me? I pumped myself up, took a deep breath, and spoke: “I’m at the airport. Come pick me up.” I vastly overestimated my psychological resilience and the thickness of my skin. When Liam appeared in front of me, I couldn’t stop myself from turning bright red. “Are you hot?” I looked up. The man was wearing the dark grey suit I had seen him in near the stairwell. His entire aura was expensive and relaxed. It seemed he had rushed over right after his meeting ended. He took the small suitcase from my hand, his other hand naturally taking mine, shielding me on the inside of the walkway. “I’m flying back tomorrow. I’ll stay here for the night. Want to fly back together tomorrow?” He smiled as he looked at the crosswalk light, seemingly in a fantastic mood. I nodded. 8 Late at night. After taking a shower, I burrowed under Liam’s covers. As expected, sleeping next to Liam was always the warmest. I hugged his waist and buried my face deeply into his chest muscles. It was that familiar citrus scent. Liam’s natural scent. It smelled so good. Every time I buried my face in his chest, I slept so much sounder. I couldn’t help but hug him tighter and take another deep breath. I was completely oblivious to the rising body temperature of the man next to me. By the time I realized what was happening, I was already pinned underneath him. The atmosphere was hazy. Our noses touched. Slightly ragged breathing tangled together. I mentioned this before, but Liam is an incredible kisser. From my forehead, to my eyes, the bridge of my nose, my lips, my collarbone… It was like a current of electricity, sending shiver after shiver through me. Restrained yet desperate. I opened my eyes, already dazed and clouded, wanting to pull him even closer. “Liam, I want you to…” Suddenly, I snapped back to reality. The leg I had hooked around his waist froze instantly. I suddenly remembered what he told his friend in the stairwell. Liam could hear. He could hear! I stared at the man who had his head buried in his work, acting as if he knew absolutely nothing. I bit my lip hard, forcing down the rest of the sentence I was about to say. What a manipulative jerk. He must have loved listening to me say all that stuff! If he’s going to act, then two can play at that game. I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing my tense body to relax, keeping my mouth clamped shut and refusing to make a sound. Liam worked away for a long time. He seemed to sense something was off, but couldn’t blow his cover and reveal he could hear. He could only keep going. In a daze. He hooked my hand and pressed it against his stomach. The corners of his eyes were wet, looking like a pure yet feral male fox. I thought back to the things I used to say. “Hubby, you’re amazing. “Hubby, right there. “Hubby, you’re making me cry so hard I…” ENOUGH! I gritted my teeth, desperately holding onto my last shred of defense. Liam seemed to be engaged in a silent battle of wills with me. His wet, puppy-dog eyes stared at me intently, but his movements grew fiercer and fiercer. I honestly couldn’t hold it in anymore. I opened my mouth. But the words took a sharp, aggressive turn: “Liam, has your technique gotten worse?” I clearly felt the man on top of me go rigid. But he had to keep moving, tilting his head with a look of pure innocence, staring at my mouth and asking me what I was saying. I held back a laugh. “I said, you’re really bad at this.” “…” The man was furious but couldn’t dare speak. “Oh, right, you don’t have your hearing aid in, so you can’t hear me. “I really want to try a different guy. “I’ve been with you for too long, there’s no novelty left. “Right now, I’m kind of into the ‘golden retriever’ type. Sweet, young, and full of energy.” Liam’s face grew darker and darker. He still had to pretend he didn’t understand, asking me what I was babbling about. But before I could open my mouth to say anything else… He buried his face deep into the crook of my neck. He didn’t want to hear it anymore. The puppy didn’t like hearing those words. Tonight, a certain man who was playing deaf had his heart quietly shattered into a million pieces.

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My daughter, who lives abroad, specifically mailed me a box of imported, supposedly very expensive strawberries. I happily followed her instructions, washing them three times in a saltwater soak. Just as I was about to eat one, my one-year-old grandson started crying. After I finished feeding him and came back out to the living room, all that was left of the strawberries on the coffee table were a few green leaves. My husband of thirty-five years criticized me for being careless, saying I shouldn’t have used a colander to hold them. “I don’t know what you do all day. Look at this, there’s water all over the coffee table.” My son swallowed the very last strawberry, too busy playing a video game on his phone to even look up. “Mom, these strawberries are actually pretty good. Ask my sister where she bought them. I want to buy some for Chloe. She’s been working so hard lately, I need to treat her.” Looking at the puddle of water on the coffee table, I suddenly felt that this life was entirely meaningless. So, I turned around and called my daughter. “That visa you mentioned last time… can we still apply for it?” Later, my daughter posted a video of me picking giant strawberries at a farm abroad. I was smiling, looking ten years younger. The father and son back home saw it and their eyes went red. “It was just a strawberry. Why wouldn’t she come back?” 01 “You’re this old and you’re still so clumsy. I really don’t know how you manage to be a grandmother.” My husband, Arthur, leaned back in his recliner, his legs crossed. He took a deep drag of his cigarette and continued nagging me through the cloud of smoke. “And you’re still thinking about going to be a nanny for someone else? You’d be lucky if they didn’t fire you on the first day.” Looking at the face I had stared at for thirty-five years, I suddenly felt nauseous. It was like looking at a pile of old, rotting manure in a vegetable patch. I walked over and snatched the cigarette from his mouth, crushing it out in the ashtray. The movement was so sudden that Arthur froze for a good moment. “Have you lost your mind?!” I picked up the rag nearby and wiped the water off the coffee table. “My daughter-in-law said no smoking in the house. The baby is too young to be inhaling secondhand smoke.” Arthur’s eyes went wide. “I wasn’t smoking right next to my grandson! What’s the big deal? The smoke clears in a minute!” Seeing him reach for his lighter again, I slammed the rag down on the coffee table. “Then you still can’t smoke!” My suddenly raised voice finally caught the attention of my son, Mark. He looked up blankly from his phone screen, looked at me, then at his dad. He didn’t say a word, just stood up and walked into his bedroom, still yelling at his game. “Push the lane! Push the lane! I’ll tank the turret!” Honestly, I was famous for having a soft temper. In all our years of marriage, I rarely ever raised my voice at Arthur. Because every time I showed even the slightest hint of dissatisfaction, he would say: “Helen! Have your wings grown too stiff? Did you forget how I worked myself to the bone from dawn to dusk to support you all these years? You should be grateful!” Just like now. After I yelled at him, Arthur immediately stiffened his neck and started throwing out harsh threats. “I think you’re getting senile. Throwing a fit out of nowhere! If you don’t like the smoke, then get out of this house. If you’ve got the guts, leave my house!” “This is my house too! It’s marital property, what right do you have to kick me out?!” My daughter, Emma, taught me to say that. Ever since she became independent, she always loved telling me I was a pushover, letting her dad control me for decades. She wanted me to grow a spine. “Women hold up half the sky! Mom, are you planning on indulging them for the rest of your life? You’re only in your fifties. Instead of being an unpaid maid for them, you should come with me and see the world.” I used to mumble and not know how to argue back with her. For decades, I had lived the first half of my life exactly like this. No one ever told me it was wrong. My mother, who died young, and Emma’s grandmother, both said men were the sky, and women should yield and endure to keep the peace in the family. But Emma said that was wrong. She said a family is built by both partners, that a woman raising children is just as formidable as a man making money, and that there’s no rule saying women have to serve men. Emma said it so often that a tiny bit of it finally stuck with me. And it came in handy right now. He yelled, so I yelled back. Arthur had never seen me stand my ground like this. For a moment, he was actually choked up. He panted heavily like an old ox, but in the end, he didn’t light the cigarette. I looked down at the empty basket that used to hold the strawberries and said softly: “Those were the strawberries Emma bought for me. I didn’t even get to eat a single one.” “What?” Arthur acted like he didn’t understand. I repeated it again. He looked at me in disbelief. “Just because of a strawberry, you’re throwing a temper tantrum at me? How old are you, and you’re still this gluttonous?” Right. Just because of a strawberry. But I served my in-laws, managed all the household chores, and raised two children. In all these years, I had never eaten a strawberry. When I was young, we didn’t have the money for them. Now that I’m old, I just wanted to eat one strawberry, and my husband calls me a glutton. “Forget it. If you want to eat them so badly, go buy a pound and eat them. I’ve never seen such a gluttonous old woman.” Arthur’s face was dark, acting like he was doing me a favor by forgiving me. He was definitely waiting for me to soften up and apologize to him like I always did. But I didn’t want to deal with him, and I didn’t even want to take care of my grandson right now. I slowly went into the bedroom, dug out my ID and passport, and walked out the door. 02 Emma had gotten me a passport half a year ago, wanting me to visit her in Australia. But my daughter-in-law had just given birth, so I couldn’t find the time. Hearing that I had finally decided to visit her, she was overjoyed. She had one of her colleagues teach me how to apply for a visa. The young girl was very nice. She helped me with everything and didn’t mind my technological incompetence at all. “Auntie, it’ll take a week at most. I’ll let you know the second your application is approved.” One week. Not long. On the way home, I felt like the air today was exceptionally sweet. Even the little dog in the elevator looked adorable. I had been terrified of dogs since I was a kid. But for some reason today, I suddenly gathered the courage to pet that little golden retriever. It wasn’t as scary as I thought, and it even wagged its tail at me. This good mood lasted until I reached my front door. Before I even walked in, I heard my daughter-in-law, Chloe, throwing a fit. “Is he not your son? You don’t even bother to look at him? He’s so small, he gets hungry constantly! Is this whole family dead?!” I paused as I opened the door, then walked in pretending I hadn’t heard anything. Seeing me, Mark, who had been keeping his head down like a scolded dog, looked like he had found the culprit. “Mom! Where did you run off to all afternoon!? The baby was crying his lungs out from hunger!” Arthur suddenly seemed to come alive too. He walked out of the bedroom with his hands behind his back, his face grim as he started nagging. “If you’re going out, go out, but at least take the baby with you.” “We don’t know how to soothe him. My grandson cried all afternoon.” “If you have to leave, can’t you at least tell someone? Coming back this late, not making dinner… is the family supposed to starve…” Thinking about how I’d be leaving to see my daughter in a few days, I originally didn’t want to fight with him. But I tried to hold it in, and I just couldn’t. “If you don’t know how to soothe him, learn.” Emma said it best. No one is born knowing how to cook, do laundry, or soothe a baby. Arthur hadn’t washed a single piece of clothing or a single bowl in his entire life. Starting today, I wasn’t washing them either. If he doesn’t know how to cook, he can learn. If he doesn’t want to learn, he can starve. After all, we had just bickered that afternoon. Seeing that I was still angry, Arthur shut his mouth. But Mark had just been scolded by his wife, and he was genuinely angry. “Mom, what is wrong with you!? Are you trying to ruin this family?” “Chloe worked all day, and I finally get a day off. You’re the only one sitting around doing nothing. If you don’t cook, who will?” I didn’t bother arguing with them. I walked straight into my room, leaving the three of them staring at each other in the living room. Through the door, I could hear them whispering. “Dad? What’s going on?” “I don’t know! She has no real responsibilities, but a massive temper. It’s like she’s got a black hole in her mouth. She didn’t get to eat a single strawberry, and she completely lost her mind.” “Ugh, all this over something so small? If I had known, I would have saved two for her. Besides, we can just buy some more tomorrow, right?” Chloe didn’t say a word. She grabbed the baby and went back to her mother’s house. I didn’t cook that night. I didn’t make breakfast the next morning, either. 03 I broke my own rule and slept in. Outside my room, it was pure chaos. Mark woke up late and was rushing to get to work. “Mom, where did you put my white dress shirt? I need it for a meeting today. Did you iron it?” “I didn’t wash it.” “Then what am I supposed to do?” Mark was dumbfounded. Arthur followed me around as I got out of bed, rushing me. “Fine, you didn’t do the laundry. But my son is about to leave for work. Hurry up and make some noodles so he can eat before he goes. I’m supposed to meet Old Man Lee to go fishing.” I simply pulled the covers over my head. “I don’t feel well. Make it yourselves.” There was silence outside the covers for a few seconds, followed by a cold scoff from Arthur. “If you won’t cook, we’ll eat out! I refuse to believe the earth stops turning without you. If you’ve got the guts, don’t ever cook again! The whole family will just pay to eat at restaurants. Let’s see how many days you can keep this up.” I thought to myself, I’ll keep it up for six days. By then, whether you want to cook or not, you’ll have to. After they both left, I got out of bed and went to find my old friend, Mary. She was lucky. Her husband died early, and her neighborhood got bought out by developers twice. She was living a fantastic life now, going out to line dance in the park every single day. Hearing that I was going abroad, she dragged me to a high-end department store. “You’re going abroad, you have to buy some nice clothes! Look at what you’re wearing, it’s washed until it’s practically transparent. I’ve seen you wear these clothes for ten years.” The full-length mirror next to us reflected the awkwardness at my temples and the frayed white edges of my cuffs. It gave me a moment of daze. Thirty-five years ago, I was a young girl who loved dressing up, too. When we got married, Arthur said he would let me be a young girl for the rest of my life. But the ravages of time meant that in the blink of an eye, I had become an old woman. Mary picked out quite a few things for me, saying she wanted to gift them to me. I politely declined again and again. I was used to being frugal, so I only picked one item. Even that one piece was fifty dollars, and it made me feel a little panicky. But then I thought about how the fishing rods Arthur left collecting dust at home cost way more than this piece of clothing. Thinking like that, I added one more item, bringing the total to a lucky hundred dollars, and bought them. When I got home, Mark hadn’t finished work yet, but Arthur was home early. He leaned awkwardly on the sofa, giving me side-eye. My gaze quickly passed over him and landed on a plastic produce bag on the coffee table. Seeing me notice it, Arthur arrogantly lifted his chin. “Four dollars a pound, you really know how to cause trouble for me! Hurry up and eat them, then go make dinner!” The bag was open, revealing a dozen shriveled, sad-looking strawberries. They looked like the bad fruit that hadn’t sold for days. They weren’t washed. Arthur obviously didn’t plan on eating bad fruit like this. He bought them for me. It had always been like this. The money-making husband ate the best, the kids ate the best, and whatever was left over or spoiling was for me. Back then, times were tough for everyone. Being a little deprived didn’t feel like a big deal. But now, Arthur gets a pension every month, and the kids are grown. I didn’t want to eat them anymore. Right in front of Arthur, I threw the bag of strawberries into the trash can. Before he could explode, I beat him to the punch. “They’re rotten. Unedible.” Then, taking advantage of his shock, I turned and walked into the kitchen. Before I came home, my daughter-in-law called and said her father was coming over tonight. He was a guest, after all. I couldn’t let people go hungry. 04 Chloe was from a single-parent home. Her father had suffered a stroke before the New Year and was paralyzed on one side. He looked even worse now, arriving in a wheelchair. As soon as we sat down at the dinner table, Chloe brought up the idea of moving her father in. “Mom, my dad can’t be left alone. I did the math. Hiring a live-in caretaker or nurse would cost at least three thousand a month. My salary combined with Mark’s isn’t even ten thousand. We just can’t afford it. Instead of paying a caretaker, we should bring him here to live with us. The family can take care of him together. “We have that extra storage room anyway. We can clear it out for my dad. We can rent out his old apartment, and the rent can help cover living expenses.” Before I could even speak, Arthur and Mark nodded in agreement. “Of course, of course. A son-in-law is basically half a son. It’s our duty to be filial to our father-in-law.” “Don’t worry, Chloe. With all of us here, we’ll definitely take great care of him.” … The braised ribs I had specifically prepared for our guest tasted like cardboard in my mouth. I looked up at Arthur and Mark amidst their chorus of agreement. “Are you two going to take care of him?” My son and daughter-in-law work every day, and Arthur is a man who wouldn’t lift a finger to do a household chore. This massive burden would undoubtedly fall on my shoulders. The memory of serving my father-in-law and mother-in-law day and night for years involuntarily sprang to mind. Sick elderly people can’t be hit or scolded, and they often cause a ruckus that gives you no peace. It was truly exhausting. I had finally seen my sick in-laws pass away, and now they wanted me to take care of a half-paralyzed patient. Just thinking about it was suffocating. My voice was very soft, but it instantly froze the atmosphere at the table to absolute zero. Arthur furrowed his brows. “What’s your problem these past few days? You’re giving attitude left and right. What exactly do you want? It’s just taking care of a half-paralyzed patient. You’re used to doing it. Why won’t you do it now?” He put down his bowl. “Helen, you spent a hundred dollars this afternoon. What kind of clothes did you buy? Were they made of gold? I let that slide. I consider it paying for peace. But you’re pushing your luck. If you keep this up, I won’t give you another dime. “You’re an old woman. You don’t care about your son, you don’t care about your grandson. Are you trying to leave this family, find some shady guy outside, and demand a divorce at your age?” The word “divorce” made me freeze. Right. Divorce. Why hadn’t I thought of divorce before? Seeing me stay silent, Arthur paused and softened his tone. “I know you’re upset. That’s why I went out of my way to buy you strawberries this afternoon, didn’t I? You should be grateful.” Mark nodded vigorously in agreement. “Exactly! Mom! Am I not your biological son? Is it really that hard to help us out?” Mark looked exactly like his dad did when he was young. His face was full of dissatisfaction with me, as if I owed him something. “Do whatever you want. I’m not taking care of him anyway.” As soon as the words left my mouth, the bowl in Arthur’s hand came flying at me. It crashed to the floor, shattering loudly. “Fine! We don’t need you! It’s just taking care of a person. You seriously think this family will fall apart without you? If you don’t want to do it, then leave! Mark, from now on, pretend you don’t have a mother!!” I clutched my bleeding forehead. It took me a long time to recover from the shock. By the time I reacted, the entire table of people had already left the dining room. Mark was still muttering. “Mom, don’t blame Dad. You’re being completely unreasonable! Making a huge fuss over and over again about such a small thing.” That night, I asked my daughter about getting a divorce. 05 The father and son were men of their word. As soon as the caretaker left, my father-in-law’s luggage was moved in. At the same time, my daughter told me my expedited visa had been approved, the plane ticket was bought, and my flight was the morning after next. “Mom, you don’t have to worry about a thing. As soon as you get off the plane, you’ll see me.” Maybe it was an unspoken understanding between mother and daughter, but I didn’t mention this to the father and son, and Emma didn’t either. On the first day her father-in-law moved in, Arthur really did step up to take care of him, just as he said he would. Except he gagged for half an hour while changing adult diapers, and threw up for another half hour while giving him a sponge bath. He had only been taking care of him for one day. That night, as soon as Mark got home, he started complaining. “My back is completely broken. Someone acts like she’s blind, sitting on the sofa watching TV all day. Her conscience was eaten by a dog.” I pretended not to hear him, silently tending to the potted plants on the balcony. The two Rieger begonias I planted were very temperamental. Too much or too little water and they’d die. It wouldn’t be convenient to take them abroad, so I could only give them to Mary to look after. Arthur was passive-aggressive, and Mark was sarcastic towards his dad. Both of them looked at me eagerly, waiting for me to bow my head again, waiting for me to say what they wanted to hear. But I just turned around and went into my bedroom. I understood these two men too well. They were counting on me being soft-hearted, to take over the responsibility first, and then they’d wash their hands of it and leave the whole mess to me. But this time, they were going to have to suffer the consequences of their own actions. In our thirty-plus years together, Arthur had never seen me refuse to yield. He always assumed I wouldn’t be that cruel. That night, Old Man Lee called to invite him fishing the next day. He agreed without a second thought. He intentionally put the call on speakerphone in front of me. Naturally, I heard the whole conversation. But since he didn’t speak to me, I acted like I hadn’t heard a thing. I left the house early the next morning, ahead of him. I just didn’t expect that when I came back, my key wouldn’t open the front door. It was a brand new lock. The old key didn’t work. I called Mark. He hemmed and hawed for a long time on the other end of the line, finally squeezing out one sentence. “Mom, just apologize to Dad. I still have to work. I really shouldn’t get involved in you guys’ business.” At this point, how could I not understand? Arthur did it on purpose. When I made it so he couldn’t leave the house, he made it so I couldn’t enter it. Through the security door, I heard Arthur’s angry voice from inside. “Now you know how to come back? You like running outside so much, right?! Then you can stay out there forever!” I stood outside the door for a good while. I don’t know why, but all the events of the past flashed through my mind like a slideshow, stopping at a specific moment. When we were young, Arthur and I had a similar scene. At that time, I had just given birth to Mark. I hadn’t even finished my postpartum confinement when I discovered my husband flirting with the widow next door. That was the biggest fight I ever had with him. I packed up Mark, crying as I ran back to my parents’ house. At that time, I really thought about getting a divorce. But I hadn’t even stayed at my parents’ house for a week when I heard my sister-in-law complaining to my brother. “We’re already tight on money, and now we have two extra mouths to feed. What married woman runs back to her parents’ house to freeload?” My mother also advised me: “Men are all like that. They have wandering eyes. As long as he knows to come home, he’s a good man. For the sake of the two kids, just endure it and it’ll pass. You’re married. A married daughter is like spilled water. We can’t interfere too much.” I realized belatedly that I had suddenly become a person without a home. So, I could only quietly return. That time, Arthur also intentionally locked me out, only opening the door when Mark was crying so hard he could barely breathe. He had a “I knew it” expression on his face. Just like now, mocking me. “Now you know you need to come back?” Last night, my daughter asked me why I suddenly wanted a divorce. I didn’t know how to answer her then. But now I had the answer. The things I didn’t have the courage to do when I was young, I couldn’t just not do them for the rest of my life. 06 Fortunately, I had sent my luggage to Mary’s house early on. Crashing for one night wasn’t a big deal. Early the next morning, Mary drove me to the airport. Before boarding, Mark sent me a message. [Mom, can you please stop being so stubborn? Is it really that hard to just call or text Dad and admit you were wrong? You’re making it so awkward for me and my wife at home.] Arthur sent me a message too. [Helen! You’ve really grown a spine! I won’t stand in your way. If you want a divorce, fine!] I replied with a single word, “Okay,” then turned off my phone and swapped it for the new SIM card Emma’s friend had helped me get. Mary smiled from the side. “You’re really going through with the divorce?” I smiled too. “I still have a lot of days left to live. It’s time for a change of lifestyle.” 07 In his thirty-plus years of marriage, Arthur had never felt that life was so thoroughly unpleasant. He had just sent a message giving his wife an out, and then called his son. “I bet your mother will stay out for a few days, but then won’t she have to come crawling back home?” “Dad, I’m with you on this. I tried talking to Mom too. It’ll be fine. Just wait a few days, and then have Mom take over.” But before he even finished the call… In the living room, his half-paralyzed father-in-law was yelling that he needed to pee and needed his adult diaper changed. In the bedroom, his grandson, who couldn’t even speak clearly, was crying from hunger and needed a bottle. He was frantically trying to juggle the old and the young. In his rush, he accidentally dropped a glass baby bottle, spilling freshly mixed formula all over the floor. Seeing his grandson crying until he was breathless, he rushed to grab a mop to clean the floor, but slipped and banged his head against the foot of the bed. His vision went completely black for a moment. By the time he recovered, his grandson’s face was red from crying. He had no choice but to rub his bruised arm, limp back to the kitchen, and mix another bottle of formula. After his grandson finished the bottle and fell sound asleep… Arthur sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly out the window. He didn’t know why, but he suddenly thought of thirty years ago. Right after his wife, Helen, gave birth to Mark. Their older daughter, Emma, was only two. In the dead of winter, she accidentally fell into a cesspit. The stench was unbearable. He was so disgusted that he yelled at his wife to clean her up immediately. Back then, there were no water heaters. You had to boil water for a bath. By the time his wife had finally boiled the water and prepared to bathe their daughter, Emma’s lips were blue from the cold. But right at that moment, two-month-old Mark got hungry and started crying loudly, just like the baby earlier. His wife was frantically trying to manage both. “Arthur, feed the baby some formula. There’s rice cereal in the cupboard. I really can’t free up my hands.” What did he say back then? “You need my help for something this small? Did you forget how to eat? “Ugh, it stinks. Stay away from me!” And then? Then he didn’t go feed the baby. He used working overtime as an excuse and went out to play poker. When he finally came back, his son was full and sleeping soundly, and his daughter was clean. Before this, Arthur had never considered how Helen managed to take care of both kids at the same time. He just thought that since she could do it, and insisted he help, she must just be looking for trouble. But in this moment, for some reason, he suddenly remembered this insignificant little incident from decades ago. Since that day, Helen had never asked him to take care of the kids again, sparing him the trouble for his entire life. Arthur used to think he was just incredibly lucky in this life. He never imagined that one day, his partner of over thirty years would go on strike! She wouldn’t cook, wouldn’t wash dishes, wouldn’t help their son, and wouldn’t even look after their grandson. It was like she was possessed, yelling about gender equality. What kind of nonsense was that? When have men and women ever been equal? Thinking of this, he remembered the message he had sent to Helen earlier. Forget it. They were an old married couple. Bickering all the time was pointless. Maybe he would just take a step back and apologize. They couldn’t just stay in this deadlock forever. But when he picked up his phone, put on his reading glasses, and tried to type a softer-sounding message, he only saw a single, lonely word in response. “Okay.” Okay to what? To a divorce?

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I crashed the wrong wedding, snagged three envelopes of cash during the games, and ended up brawling with the groomsmen. One of the groomsmen was incredibly handsome, and I definitely hit him the hardest. But after the reception, that same groomsman blocked my exit. “Are you on the bride’s side or the groom’s side?” he asked. I thought about it for a second. “The bride’s side. I’m the step-niece of her brother-in-law’s great-uncle.” The groomsman laughed. “Then you should be on the groom’s side. But unfortunately for you, I’m the bride’s brother-in-law, and I definitely don’t have a great-uncle.” 1 This weekend, my mom forced me to attend the wedding of some distant relative. She was too busy with her weekly bridge game to go herself. I told her to just Venmo the wedding gift money, but she looked at me with wide, innocent eyes. “They’re too old-school for Venmo, sweetie. They don’t even have the app.” I tried to refuse again, but she used her ultimate mom-logic: “We already committed the money! If you don’t go and at least eat the food, we’re losing out!” Thinking about it, she wasn’t wrong. Plus, I didn’t have lunch plans anyway, so I headed over early. Because I got there so early, I actually ended up tagging along with the bridal party for the “door games”—a tradition where the bridesmaids block the door and the groomsmen have to bribe or fight their way in to get the bride. At the hotel where the wedding party was getting ready, I was waiting around bored when a group of enthusiastic older aunts grabbed me, dragged me downstairs, and shoved me into a car to join the chaotic bridal procession. Among the groomsmen, there was this one guy who stood out. He had strong, dark eyebrows and striking eyes. He was easily six-foot-two and incredibly noticeable. I followed that handsome face all the way up the stairs and into the bridal suite. The bridesmaids were blocking the bedroom door, demanding red envelopes full of cash. The groomsmen were simultaneously shoving money under the door and throwing their shoulders against the wood. The groom’s side had two guys who were built like linebackers. They hit the door with a combined charge, completely misjudging their own strength. The door literally flew off its hinges. The bridesmaids screamed and scattered. Luckily, no one was hurt. But the girls were definitely not happy. The planned, organized games were thrown out the window, and they immediately grabbed their inflatable squeaky hammers and started swinging. I was just standing on the sidelines watching the chaos when, suddenly— The handsome groomsman reached out a long arm, grabbed my shoulder, and yanked me directly in front of him. Before I could even process what was happening, an inflatable hammer smacked me square on the head. It didn’t hurt, but being used as a human shield was highly insulting. In that instant, I switched sides and fully joined the bridal defense squad. I grabbed a dropped inflatable hammer off the floor and started wailing on the groomsmen. Naturally, my primary target was the handsome jerk who used me as a meat shield. 2 Maybe my performance was just too stellar, but I successfully integrated into the bride’s squad. For the rest of the morning’s events, I enthusiastically participated alongside the bridesmaids, tormenting the group of guys. And of course. My main focus remained tormenting the best-looking guy in the room. When he was forced to push his face through a sheet of plastic wrap held up in a frame, I perfectly timed my phone camera to capture the exact moment his face was hilariously squished and distorted. Finally, during the scramble, I managed to snag three red envelopes full of cash. Maybe it’s just easy for young people to bond, but by the time the door games were over, I was basically best friends with the bridesmaids, running around helping them with last-minute details. Then, we headed to the actual wedding venue. Because there were so many people in the wedding party, only the Maid of Honor and Best Man rode in the lead car. The rest of us were dispersed among the following vehicles in the motorcade. I deliberately lingered in the back, picking the car with the fewest people to hop into. However… I ended up in the passenger seat, and the driver was none other than the groomsman from earlier. The 6’2”, dark-eyebrowed, strikingly handsome guy. …Is this guy a professional freelancer or something? A groomsman and a chauffeur? Obviously, the handsome guy remembered me too. Our eyes met. He smirked. “Did you have fun hitting me earlier?” 3 I offered an awkward, sheepish smile. “Just playing the part, you know? Sticking to the script.” Thankfully, the motorcade started moving right then. He pulled his gaze back and put the car in drive. We were the very last car in the line, and we didn’t pick up any other passengers before the lead car pulled out. The ride was silent. The handsome guy was giving off a very aloof vibe. Aside from asking me if the AC temperature was okay, he didn’t make a peep. But halfway through the drive, his phone, resting on the center console, started ringing. I subconsciously glanced over. The screen flashed with three bold words: “The Ex”. He glanced at it, and saw that I saw it. “Can you answer that for me?” He kept one hand casually on the steering wheel, his voice flat. “Do me a favor. Tell her you’re my girlfriend.” “What’s in it for me?” “I’ll give you two more red envelopes later.” I immediately answered the phone and softened my voice to a sweet purr. “Hello? Who is this?” The line was silent for two seconds before a screeching roar blasted through the speaker: “Who the hell are you?! Tell Liam to get his ass on the phone right now!” Good lord. Her scream made my ear ring for a solid five seconds. “I’m so sorry, Liam is asleep right now.” I smiled, intentionally making my voice sound husky and breathless. “He was just so incredible earlier, he’s a little exhausted right now. Whatever it is, you can tell him tomorrow.” With that, I hung up the phone. But right before I hit the red button, I added one last sentence: “Actually, don’t bother calling tomorrow either. I won’t let him answer.” The handsome guy—Liam—turned his head to look at me. He was smirking, his tone deeply suggestive: “How exactly was I ‘incredible’ earlier?” 4 …This guy. Asking questions he already knows the answer to. I just helped him block his crazy ex, and he turns around and flirts with me? No good deed goes unpunished. I ignored him. While he was stopped at a red light, I flipped the phone in my hand and tossed it back onto the console— A perfect, flawless toss. It landed directly on his lap. Right in the danger zone. Liam let out a muffled groan, his thighs instantly snapping shut, his face turning pale. “Are you going to pay for it if you broke it…” I leaned against the window, smiling brightly, and pointed ahead. “Light’s green. Drive.” Liam grumbled under his breath and hit the gas. We pulled up to the reception venue and got out of the car together. Liam didn’t forget he was still a groomsman. He adjusted his suit jacket, preparing to head inside. “Hey.” I couldn’t help myself, calling out to stop him. Liam paused and turned to look at me. “That bridesmaid with the long, straight black hair. Is she your girlfriend?” I clasped my hands behind my back, twisting my fingers together. Earlier, I had noticed that when we were all aggressively hammering Liam, that specific bridesmaid had quietly stepped in to shield him. Even though it was chaotic, I still caught the tender look in her eyes. Plus, she was easily the most beautiful bridesmaid in the group. Liam froze for a second, then his lips curved up. “No. Just a friend.” He finished speaking and raised an eyebrow. “Come on. Let’s go get some food.” 5 Inside the hotel ballroom. I found a quiet corner and sat at a relatively empty table, waiting for the reception to officially start. Before sitting down, I had stopped by the welcome table to drop off the wedding gift money. Since the familial connection was so incredibly distant, my mom had instructed me to just leave $200. The rest of the events unfolded like any standard American wedding. The bride walked down the aisle on her father’s arm. The father handed her over to another man and gave a speech. The emotional tone and heartfelt words had people in the audience wiping away tears. The only part of the ceremony that caught my attention was when the groomsmen and bridesmaids walked down the aisle in pairs. That beautiful bridesmaid with the long black hair clearly wanted to walk with Liam. But when it was their turn, Liam subtly shifted his weight, pushing the buddy standing behind him forward. Under the gaze of all the guests, the bridesmaid had no choice but to press her lips together and walk down the aisle with the guy who had been shoved forward. A moment later, on the dais, Liam’s gaze swept over the crowd and landed lightly on me. Then, the corner of his mouth ticked upward into a smirk. In that moment, sitting at the very back table in the corner, looking at that smiling face on the stage… My heart did a quiet, unexpected flutter. 6 The ceremony ended, and the reception dinner began. Since I didn’t know a single person at my table, I just kept my head down and focused on the food. I have to admit, the catering at this hotel was fantastic. As I gnawed on a short rib, I silently thought to myself: When I get married, I’m booking this place. That way, after the ceremony, I can eat an amazing meal. Fully stuffed and satisfied, I let out a small burp, grabbed a napkin to elegantly wipe my mouth, and decided that since I paid my $200 and didn’t know anyone, it was time to bounce. However— The moment I stood up, someone blocked my path. It was him. Liam. He had one hand resting on the back of my chair, a smirk on his lips. His relaxed, confident posture made it seem like he had been waiting for me for a while. “Full?” I subconsciously wiped the corner of my mouth again. “Yeah.” Thinking about it, I tried to salvage my image. “I actually have a very small appetite usually.” Liam’s smile widened. “Yeah. I can tell.” He didn’t say anything else, just stood there smiling, looking at me. His gaze was making my heart race. I tried to sidestep him to leave, but he blocked me again. Liam leaned down slightly. “I still haven’t figured it out yet. Are you here for the bride, or for the groom?” I thought about it for a second. “The bride’s side. I’m the step-niece of her brother-in-law’s great-uncle.” Liam laughed. “Then you should be on the groom’s side. But unfortunately for you, I’m the bride’s brother-in-law, and I definitely don’t have a great-uncle.” I froze. No… great-uncle? I didn’t make that relationship up. My mom drilled it into me this morning. In case anyone asked at the wedding, I had basically memorized it like a script. Our eyes met. Liam’s gaze was sincere; he didn’t look like he was lying at all. Panic set in. I quickly pulled out my phone and dialed my mom. To confirm the relationship, I asked, and my mom replied in a serious tone: “Chloe, the groom’s last name is Davis. You didn’t go to the wrong venue, did you? … Gin Rummy! I win!” Ignoring the triumphant roar at the end of her sentence, I slowly turned my head to look at Liam. “What’s the groom’s last name?” Liam raised an eyebrow. “The groom is my older brother. So his last name is also Sterling.” …I’m dead. Before my mom could start yelling at me over the phone, I hung up, snapped back to reality, and sprinted toward the doors. Behind me, Liam called out in confusion, “Where are you going?!” Where am I going? I’m going to get my two hundred dollars back, obviously! 7 However… I failed. The welcome table refused to give the money back, and I was too embarrassed to make a scene since it was my own stupid mistake. But I was incredibly depressed. Two weddings, same hotel. The only difference was that one was in Ballroom A, and the other was in Ballroom B. I stood by the lobby doors and texted my mom: “You didn’t give a gift to that distant relative, did you?” My mom replied almost instantly: “Do you want me to cut off your allowance for next month?” …I bowed my head to the reality of needing to survive. I ran over to Ballroom B, dropped another $200 in their card box, and walked out feeling completely defeated. I was supposed to use my mom’s “company dime” to score a free meal, and instead, I was out two hundred bucks. As I walked out of the banquet hall, Liam’s figure appeared in my line of sight again. He was highly amused. “What, did you crash the wrong wedding?” I refused to admit defeat. “The party over there was too boring. I came over here on purpose to see the action.” Liam chuckled, pulled something out of his jacket pocket, and tossed it toward me. I scrambled to catch it. It was two red envelopes. He raised an eyebrow. “The red envelopes I promised you. Keep them.” These kinds of envelopes usually only had a few bucks in them anyway, so I didn’t refuse and stuffed them into my purse. I let out a heavy sigh, preparing to leave this place of heartbreak. But my path was blocked by Liam again. He pulled out his phone and held it in front of me. “Let’s exchange numbers. You started helping me, you might as well finish it. I might need your help dealing with my ex again.” “What’s in it for me?” Liam smiled. “More envelopes?” “Deal!” I quickly added his number. Honestly, the money wasn’t the main draw. Mostly, I just wanted an excuse to keep talking to a hot guy. After saving my number, Liam put his phone away. “Come on. I’ll drive you home.” However, I followed Liam toward the hotel exit, and just as we were about to walk through the doors, he slammed on the brakes. I almost crashed into his back. I looked up to see Liam lowering his voice. “Girl, I got a situation.” ?? I was completely confused. Then, I saw Liam nod slightly toward the front, and I followed his gaze. Standing a few yards ahead was a girl, arms crossed over her chest, looking very slender. Liam gently grabbed my hand. His palm was warm. “That’s my ex. The real one. She’s fierce.” 8 The hand Liam was holding trembled slightly. What the hell is this? I just collected two measly envelopes, and the client is already demanding service? And… This guy is holding my hand, pretending we’re some passionately in love couple, and he didn’t even bother to tell me how “fierce” this ex of his is? I swallowed hard, silently studying the girl in front of us. Tsk. She has twig arms and legs. She can’t possibly cause that much trouble, right? I was wrong. Liam was right. His ex… was terrifyingly fierce. The slender girl marched straight up to us, her sharp gaze sweeping over our joined hands. Her opening line was a nuke: “Liam Sterling, I haven’t agreed to a breakup yet. This is cheating! You better believe I’m going to ruin you!” “You’re a three-minute-man, and you have the nerve to cheat?!” Hold up. That is a lot of information. I instantly looked at Liam, my eyes full of questions. He looked back at me, his face and neck completely red with anger. He didn’t say a single word, but his eyes clearly screamed: “I AM NOT!” As Liam frowned and stated they had been broken up for six months, and that he now had a new girlfriend, the girl didn’t say another word. She just raised her hand and swung a massive slap directly at my face! Me: ?? I didn’t even say anything! If you’re going to slap someone, slap Liam! With ninja-like reflexes, I grabbed Liam’s arm and yanked him forcefully in front of me. SMACK! The crisp sound of a slap echoed loudly. 9 That aim. That power… I swallowed hard, finally believing what Liam had said earlier. This was a life-or-death situation. How could I possibly fight someone who just throws hands like that? So, I did the only thing I could. I secretly pinched my own thigh hard, and my eyes instantly welled up with tears. Since she was playing the violent psycho, I had to play the innocent victim. With tears in my eyes, I turned and grabbed the arms of a few older ladies who had stopped to watch the drama. “Ma’am, look at them. They broke up six months ago, but she constantly stalks my boyfriend. And today she just runs up and hits him…” My leg was throbbing from the pinch, and tears streamed down my face. “Ma’am, who bullies people like this? Look what she did to my boyfriend…” I pointed at the bright red handprint swelling on Liam’s cheek. Sure enough, the nosy, good-hearted older women were instantly outraged and began scolding Liam’s ex. You do not mess with American grandmas. When it comes to public shaming and street-level debate, they absolutely obliterated Liam’s feral ex-girlfriend. The women were loud, and their scolding quickly drew a crowd of onlookers. And then— I used the chaos to grab Liam and run. Are you kidding me? Did you think I was going to stand there and wait to get slapped again?

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After I made another group of kids at the residential treatment center break down in tears, the director dragged me into his office. He planted me right in front of a wealthy-looking young couple. “If you’re looking for a companion for your autistic son, this girl is your best bet,” the director said, sighing. “She’s the biggest chatterbox in the entire system. Actually no… let’s call it ‘vibrant.’ She is very vibrant.” He leaned in, his voice drops to a serious whisper. “But here’s my one condition. If you adopt her, you absolutely cannot send her back. Consider this my only request.” The young couple didn’t seem to hear the director’s warning. They looked at me, their eyes sparkling with excitement. “We want her!” they said simultaneously. I didn’t really understand what autism was. But my new mom told me later, “Autism just means you can talk to him as much as you want, and he’ll never tell you to shut up.” My eyes lit up. A match made in heaven. I was a born talker, and he was the ultimate designated listener. 1 My new mom and dad led me to a bedroom door that was tightly shut. They looked at me with expectation written all over their faces. “Go on in, sweetheart. Your brother doesn’t talk much, but he’s actually very sweet once you get to know him.” Mom added, “If you can just get him to say a single word back to you, Dad and I will give you anything you want.” My eyes gleamed. I reached out and pushed the door open. Before I could even introduce myself— SLAM! The door flew shut, narrowly missing my nose. I stared at the wood, thoroughly confused. Mom and Dad sighed behind me. “It’s alright, Nan Yu. That’s just how he is,” Dad said gently. “Why don’t you try again tomorrow? Let’s show you to your room so you can get some rest.” Their posture was slumped with disappointment and helplessness. It made my chest ache. Maybe I just used the wrong greeting. I was determined to crack this nut. A few minutes later, I knocked and cracked the door open. “Hey, Big Bro—” SLAM! “Dear, beloved brother—” SLAM! “Oh mighty and powerful brother of mine—” SLAM! I just stood there, staring at the closed door. It felt like it had been welded shut this time. 2 The next morning, I took a screwdriver and took the door off its hinges. Mom and Dad stood at the bottom of the stairs, watching me. I could see the total validation in their eyes. Mom whispered to Dad, “With a sister like this, I’m not worried about him never talking again. She’s an absolute angel.” I really had to lean into the screwdriver. I popped the doorknob off first. Then, with one final, mighty twist, the whole door came down. I looked inside and my eyes went wide. I didn’t expect him to be so good-looking. He was like a K-pop idol, only paler. “Hi, brother! I’m Nan Yu, and I’m going to be your sister forever—” He didn’t say a word. Instead, he took the thick hardcover book he was holding and hurled it at the cabinet, a clear expression of fury at the intruder. I just smiled at him, totally unfazed, and did a swan dive right onto his bed, tunneling under his comforter. Mom and Dad exchanged a silent look in the hallway and quietly disappeared. I reached out and tried to grab his hand. He yanked it away. I tried again. He yanked it away again. We played this game of hand-tag for about five minutes. I gave up. Time for the nuclear option: talking. I snatched the stuffed alligator he was clutching and hugged it to my chest. “You know, brother, back at the treatment center, I used to tell stories to all the stuffed animals every night. Now that I’m here, I’ll tell stories to you instead.” The boy, let’s call him Ethan, didn’t say anything. He just stared blankly at his bedspread. Honestly, I was already satisfied. At least he wasn’t calling me names like the kids at the center did. He hadn’t even tried to grab his alligator back. I flashed him a bright smile. “Brother, I’m going to tell you the story of my life. Living in the group homes was actually pretty wild. Something crazy happened every day.” “I was three when the director found me. My arm was broken. The director said it was lucky he found me, otherwise I would have ended up a disabled chatterbox. Haha.” “After I moved in, I realized the other kids loved acting. They were always playing ‘Mean Girls,’ pretending they were royalty.” “They made the little kids, like me, bow down to them. We had to tie their shoes, wash their clothes, and clean the whole place. I told them I couldn’t clean because my arm was broken. Guess what?” “They said since they were royalty, even the disabled kids had to work. I wasn’t going to listen to that. I intentionally spilled dirty water all over the leader and called her a fake bitch.” Ethan’s fingers twitched slightly. He shot me a quick look out of the corner of his eye. I didn’t notice. I just kept babbling. “But then the director walked in and heard me swearing. He got so mad. He made me clean all the bathrooms for a week. So I just fell asleep in one of the stalls for the night and didn’t do any work at all. Aren’t I smart? Hahaha.” “And those other kids, because I was small, they always called me ‘Short Stack.’ Every time I heard that, I’d jump up and crack them over the head with a plastic shovel. Nobody called me that twice.” “Of course, the big kids I couldn’t beat up, so I just got wrecked by them every time I fought back. Good thing I’m tough as nails. Hahaha.” “Eventually, I just learned to use my mouth. I could make those bullies cry just by verbally decimating them. I’m pretty good, right? Haha.” I adopted a very serious tone, like I was teaching him a life lesson. “Listen to me, brother. If anyone ever gives you crap, you just call them a psycho. Say it with total conviction. It makes them think you’re crazy, and they’ll back off.” “Psycho… just remember that, psycho.” I laughed and reached out to grab his hand again, hoping for some reaction. But as soon as I raised my hand, Ethan flinched and pulled his away violently. What the…? So we started the game again. I reached, he flinched. We did this for about thirty minutes. Eventually, I pressed him so hard he scrambled out of bed and fled to the living room. I was hot on his heels, hand outstretched. “Don’t run, brother! I haven’t finished the story yet!” Mom and Dad were in the living room and watched us burst in. Mom turned to Dad, tears in her eyes. “Honey, his mental state already looks so much better. He’s… vibrant. We definitely picked the right girl.” Dad nodded, smiling. “We did, honey.” Ethan looked completely fed up. 3 Mom and Dad decided that me just getting Ethan out of his bedroom made me some kind of genius miracle worker. They immediately rewarded me with a mountain of gifts. I dragged every single one of them into Ethan’s room (the one that still didn’t have a door). “You don’t have to be jealous,” I told him seriously. “Whatever I have, you have half. Don’t worry, I’m loyal like that!” My eyes began to gleam as I tore into the boxes. “Oh wow, a Louis Vuitton backpack! This one is mine, sorry, I need it for status.” “Ooh! Fancy Victoria’s Secret silk pajamas! Definitely mine.” “Whoa! Cute hair clips! Mine.” “Kawaii pink fuzzy bunny slippers! Mine.” “Pink dress? Mine.” “Shiny black patent leather shoes? Mine.” “Actually… everything is mine.” I stared at the sea of pink, girly gifts on the floor and then looked up at him thoughtfully. “Maybe… do you like pink?” I stood up and reached for his hand. I caught him off guard and successfully grabbed it, then immediately shoved a small pink purse into his palm. “Haha! A gift for you!” Ethan acted like he had been struck by lightning. He violently whipped his hand away, hurling the purse across the room, and then began frantically scrubbing his palm against his sleeve. I looked at my hand, then at his. “Brother, your skin is so soft.” Ethan started scrubbing even harder. 4 Mom and Dad saw that I had brought all my gifts into Ethan’s room and assumed I didn’t like them. They decided to take me to the mall so I could pick things out myself. I looked over at the doorless bedroom. “Is brother coming? We should take him shopping with us.” Mom and Dad looked uneasy. “Ethan doesn’t really… like shopping,” Mom said. I tilted my head, confused. “Who doesn’t like shopping? It’s therapy! You probably just haven’t introduced him to it the right way.” “It’s not that,” Dad explained. “He can’t handle crowds. He gets extreme sensory overload and feels very unsafe. He… he might lose control.” They took my hands and started leading me to the front door. I looked back over my shoulder. Through the sliding glass doors to the patio, I saw Ethan standing there, his face completely blank, staring at nothing. I stopped walking. I broke free from their grip and walked back toward him. He looked so lonely. I bet he wanted to be like a normal person, to just go out and live life. I turned back to Mom and Dad. “I’m not going. I’m going to stay here and hang out with my brother. Whatever you buy for me, I’m sure I’ll love!” I bolted up the stairs toward the second floor. I knew he was just standing there, waiting. Below, I heard Mom burst into tears. “Oh my god! She is an actual angel sent from above.” I burst through the doorless entryway and grabbed Ethan’s hand before he could flinch. “I’m not going. I’m going to tell you stories instead.” To my surprise, Ethan didn’t yank his hand away this time. He actually let me lead him to the sofa, and he sat down right next to me. My eyes gleamed. I was a chatterbox unleashed. “Okay, brother! I’m going to tell you the story of ‘The Little Match Girl’!” Ethan: “…” “Okay, so there was this little girl, right? She was super poor, but she lived in a house filled with nuclear bombs. She went out to sell them, but nobody wanted to buy any. She was freezing and starving, and she really missed her grandma, so she lit one of the nukes to get warm. That night, the whole village got to meet her grandma.” Ethan: “…” I was really getting into it. “And then there’s the story of Little Red Riding Hood—hey, don’t cover your ears, brother!” 5 Mom and Dad bought me even more gifts. The bedroom was almost overflowing. I started to feel a little guilty receiving all this, especially since I still hadn’t gotten their son to talk. He hadn’t even had a significant emotional reaction yet. But I still opened the closet doors to shove the new clothes in while yelling down the stairs for them to stop buying things. Mom and Dad just shared a smile. “We’ve decided to enroll you in school. Since we’ve adopted you, we’re responsible for you. Education is mandatory.” I looked at the doorless entryway. “Can I go to the same school as my brother?” Mom looked uncomfortable. “Honey, Ethan is a grade ahead of you. Even if he went, you wouldn’t be in the same classes. And we honestly think home tutoring is better for him.” I frowned. “But he needs to try to be around kids his own age. I did some research online, and it said socialization can really help.” “Don’t you want him to talk and communicate? If he goes to school, maybe he’ll make a friend. Maybe that’ll give him a reason to speak.” They saw how adamant I was. They hesitated, but finally nodded. “Alright. We’ll try it.” I cheered and bolted toward Ethan’s room. “Yes! That means we can have matching backpacks! Spiderman and Ghost-Spider!” Ethan: “…” 6 I was right about school. As soon as Ethan arrived on campus, he had a massive emotional reaction. His face went pale, his hands were shaking, and I could see the sweat on his forehead. The veins in his neck were bulging. He looked terrified. I immediately grabbed his hand and started guiding him through the crowded hallway, one step at a time. “Brother?” Ethan didn’t flinch this time. Instead, he gripped my hand with terrifying strength. It felt like he was trying to break my fingers. I gritted my teeth and endured it. But then I started hearing the comments from all around us. “Look at the freak. Why did they let the r-word back in school? If your brain is broken, stay home. You’re bad luck.” “Look at him, he can’t even walk straight. He’s twitching like a glitching video game.” “The freak brought his own personal nursemaid. Hilarious.” “Look at his hands. That’s so weird. That’s that psycho-stimming thing they do, right? Haha. Normal people don’t do that. We do this!” One kid started wildly waving his hands in a mocking gesture. In that moment, I understood. I understood why Ethan fought so hard against going to school. I turned on them, baring my teeth, my fists clenched. “Say one more word, and I will personally deliver you to the ER!” “Imagine being a literal child making fun of someone over a disability. Look in a mirror before you judge someone else, you absolute losers.” “Stimming? Yeah, he’s stimming. What are you doing? Some kind of seizure dance? Maybe you need a nursemaid, you absolute joke!” I pointed at each one of them as I went down the line, decimating them. The crowd of bullies quickly dispersed. “The mute’s got a crazy dog on his leash. Let’s go, let’s go.” I immediately turned back to Ethan, who had his head down, his fists clenched tight. I grabbed his hand gently. “Don’t be scared. I’m here now. Nobody is going to mess with you.” “They’re just psychos. Don’t pay any attention to them.” I reached into my bag and pulled out a matching Fitbit Dad had bought us. I snapped the bands around his thin wrist. Then, I dramatically snapped the matching one around my own. “If anyone gives you trouble, you call me on this immediately. I promise I will be there in five seconds!” Ethan didn’t say anything, but he stared at the Fitbit on his wrist like it was an alien artifact. 7 My morning performance at the school gates apparently scared off most of the casual bullies. Nobody messed with me in my classes. I focused on my schoolwork, but in the middle of my last period, my Fitbit started buzzing aggressively. I answered. All I heard were noises and cruel laughter. “Hey, dummy! Where’s your crazy sister now? Weirdos shouldn’t be allowed in a normal school. Go back to the institution!” I threw my books in my bag and bolted out of the classroom, ignoring the teacher. I ran toward the playground and saw Ethan. He was surrounded by a group of older boys. They were kicking and punching him, but he wasn’t reacting. He was curled in a ball, his right hand tightly protecting the Fitbit on his left wrist. I went absolutely feral. I charged into the circle, shoulder-checking two boys to the ground. “You absolute animals! Picking on him?! Fight me, you cowards!” The group of boys quickly recovered and surrounded me. “Oh look, the nursemaid. You really think you can take all of us?” I was preparing my verbal assault when I felt a hand on my arm. Ethan had stood up and was gently shaking his head at me. I finally noticed the cut on his lip. I took a deep breath, trying to control my rage. “Don’t be scared, brother. I forgot to tell you, I was the unofficial heavyweight champion of the treatment center. I can take three of them, easy.” I dropped my backpack and, under their shocked stares, I pulled a thick wooden dowel out of the side pocket. I had scavenged it from a shop class. “Holy shit. This bitch is actually insane.” 8 By the time Mom and Dad arrived at the Principal’s office, only Ethan and I were there, staring at each other. I gave a little smile and reached out to pluck a piece of grass from his hair. “My brother is so good-looking, he even looks good with a lawn on his head.” Ethan turned his head away. “What happened?!” Mom’s voice was full of panic. I immediately felt a lump in my stomach. This is it. I’m going to get in trouble. They’re going to send me back. I nervously gripped Ethan’s hand. He didn’t pull away. Instead, he gripped my hand back, hard. I was shocked. In a fit of absolute joy, I slid my fingers between his, interlacing our hands properly. “This girl… she used a wooden weapon and put three students in the hospital,” the Principal said, looking terrified. “The parents are demanding police involvement…” Mom and Dad looked at me. I shrank back, already imagining my backpack being packed. But before I could apologize, Mom and Dad surprised me. They hugged me. “Nan Yu, don’t be scared. Tell us the truth. We will handle this.” I was stunned. So you can mess up and not get screamed at or kicked out? I pulled my Fitbit out of my pocket and played the recording. “They were picking on my brother first. I didn’t beat up people. I beat up animals!” The Vice Principal rolled his eyes. “No class whatsoever…” But when the recording finished playing, the administration went silent. Mom and Dad’s faces were stony. When they heard the words “freak” and “retarded,” I could see Mom’s hands shaking with rage. “This is what you call a ‘safe educational environment’?” Dad asked, his voice low and deadly. “I think the Sterling Group needs to reconsider donating that new library wing.”

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I was taking my wife’s car in for a routine service when a thick manila envelope slid out from the gap in the passenger seat. I assumed it was a stray invoice or a stray registration form, so I opened it without thinking. Inside were two plane tickets. First class. The Maldives. Departing next Wednesday. The first ticket: Claire Stanford. My wife. The second ticket: Sebastian Reed. I stared at those thirteen letters until they blurred. Sebastian Reed. Not me. I’ve memorized her company’s entire directory. That name isn’t on it. I searched the archives of my own memory, going back years. Nothing. I slid the tickets back into the envelope and tucked it exactly where I’d found it. My fingertips were like ice, but my head had never felt clearer. Four years of marriage, and for the first time, I realized that the passenger seat had never really belonged to me. 01 The mechanic at the dealership was waiting for me. I stepped out of the car, brushed a speck of non-existent dust off my slacks, and handed him the keys. “Just the standard synthetic oil change,” I said, my voice steady. “Use the high-end stuff.” “You got it, Miles. Have it ready for you by four.” I nodded, stepped out onto the curb, and hailed a cab back to the office. The leather seat of the taxi was scorching from the midday sun. I sat there, knees pressed together, clutching my phone. The screen was still glowing with the photo I’d just surreptitiously snapped of those tickets. Flight 402. First Class. Outbound December 18th. Return December 25th. A full week. They’d be coming back on Christmas Day. In the four years Claire and I have been married, she’s never spent a single Christmas with me. “It’s a commercialized Hallmark trap,” she’d always say. “Too much fuss for a Tuesday.” Back at the office, I went through the motions. I led the afternoon product meeting, reviewed the quotes for our new Southeast Asia luxury tours, and confirmed the block seating for the Lunar New Year charters. A colleague asked if I was feeling alright. I looked pale, they said. “Just something I ate at lunch,” I lied. Ten minutes before the end of the day, I texted Claire. Car’s done. You’ll have to pick it up yourself tonight. I’m pulling an evening shift. She replied instantly: Okay. Three seconds later, a follow-up: Don’t stay too late. I stared at the period at the end of that sentence. She used to be a fan of exclamation points, or at least a trailing ellipsis. When did she start sounding like a formal deposition? I flipped my phone face down, opened my laptop, and logged into the company’s GDS—the Global Distribution System for flights. I’m a senior product manager for a luxury travel firm; I spend eight hours a day in this system. I typed in the ticket numbers. Hit enter. When the order details populated, my throat went tight. Payment Method: Frequent Flyer Miles Redemption. More than half of those miles were mine. I’d spent three years flying for business, racking up over a hundred and fifty thousand miles. Last year, on my birthday, Claire suggested we merge our accounts to make it easier to book a “big trip” together. I hadn’t hesitated. I’d handed her the login. Since the merger, we hadn’t gone anywhere. But she had used my sweat and jet lag to buy a first-class seat for another man. I scrolled down to the remarks section. Four words were typed there in the “Special Requests” field. Honeymoon trip. Ocean suite. The office AC was humming, but a chill crawled up my spine. Honeymoon. Our honeymoon had been a long weekend in a budget hotel in Florida. She’d told me we needed to save every penny while she was launching her startup. I’d agreed. I’d been happy to. Four years later, it turns out she owed me a honeymoon. She was just giving it to someone else. 02 When I got home that night, Claire was on the sofa with her iPad. A glass of lukewarm water—my glass—sat on the coffee table. She looked up briefly. “You’re back. There’s some beef stew in the fridge. I warmed it up for you.” I kicked off my shoes and sat down beside her. “Are you traveling next week?” Her fingers faltered on the screen. It was subtle—less than a second—but I saw it. “Yeah. A client in San Francisco. Needs some hand-holding.” “When do you leave?” “Wednesday.” “Back when?” “The weekend, probably. Depends on how the meetings go.” I took a sip of the stew. The meat was tender, simmered with carrots and potatoes. She wasn’t much of a cook; this was almost certainly a high-end meal kit. But she had remembered to skim the fat off the top because she knew I hated greasy broth. The absurdity hit me like a physical blow. A woman planning a honeymoon with another man still remembered to skim the fat off her husband’s soup. “What’s the client’s name in SF?” She locked her iPad and set it down, her tone casual. “A project for the Reed account. You wouldn’t know them.” Reed. I set the bowl down. Claire’s company has three partners. She owns thirty-five percent. Two smaller shareholders own fifteen each. The remaining thirty-five percent belongs to a woman named Victoria Reed. Victoria Reed. Sebastian Reed. I put the names together for the first time. My heart hammered against my ribs. I didn’t dare ask anything else. I wasn’t sure my face would hold. “I’m going to shower and head to bed,” I said. Behind the closed bathroom door, the sound of the shower masked the world. I pulled out my phone and opened LinkedIn. Search: Sebastian Reed. Nothing. I tried Instagram. Private. The man was a ghost. Either he was incredibly low-profile, or he was being hidden. Neither was a good sign. The water scalded my scalp, but I didn’t turn it down. I made a decision then. I wouldn’t ask her. I would find out myself. 03 The next morning, the breakroom smelled of burnt espresso. My assistant, Ben, leaned against the counter. “Miles, you look like hell. You seeing a doctor?” “I’m fine. Just didn’t sleep well.” That was an understatement. I’d spent the night haunted by those thirteen letters. I retreated to my office and locked the door. Once the morning emails were cleared, I pulled up the photo of the ticket again. Next to the ticket number was a small string of digits: the Frequent Flyer ID. I logged into the airline’s member portal using the credentials I knew. Member Name: Claire Stanford. Balance: 3,200 miles. The account had been gutted. I clicked on the redemption history. In the last twelve months, this account had booked four trips. First: March. Two tickets to Chiang Mai. Second: June. Two tickets to Bali. Third: September. Two tickets to Hokkaido. Fourth: Next week. The Maldives. Four trips. Always two tickets. The companion passenger for every single one: Sebastian Reed. Four international vacations in a year. I hadn’t even had a weekend getaway. She told me the company was in a “growth phase.” I believed her. She said she had to work weekends. I believed her. She said her business trips were about securing investors. I believed every word. I’d spent 365 days being a supportive husband while she was busy being a girlfriend to someone else. I took a deep breath and dialed a number. “Elena, it’s Miles.” Elena was a contact I’d worked with for six years. She ran a high-end ground handling agency in the Maldives. “Miles! It’s been too long. What can I do for you?” “I need a favor. A discreet one.” I sent her the hotel name and the passport details for Sebastian Reed that I’d pulled from the flight booking. “Can you check the guest history?” “Give me thirty minutes.” Twenty-three minutes later, a PDF landed in my inbox. I opened it. My hands didn’t shake. But after I finished reading, I turned the phone face down and closed my eyes for a long time. Over the past year, Claire and Sebastian had stayed at that same resort three times. Always the same ocean suite. Every charge—the champagne, the private dinners, the spa treatments—was billed to the same corporate credit card. A company card. She wasn’t just cheating on me; she was using her company’s capital to fund her affair. I opened my eyes, saved the PDF to an encrypted folder, and named it 2024 Tax Receipts. No one ever looks at something that boring. I didn’t eat lunch. All afternoon, one question looped in my mind: Who exactly is Sebastian Reed? The hotel records had his passport number. It was a standard US passport, issued recently. I wrote down the sequence. I needed one more person to help me. 04 “Sebastian Reed. Born 1994. Registered address in Seattle.” My friend Daniel, a lawyer with a knack for finding things people want buried, paused on the other end of the line. “Miles, are you sure you want the rest of this? Once you know, there’s no going back.” “Keep going.” “He has a sister.” My grip on the phone tightened. “Name?” “Victoria Reed.” The name hit me like a physical weight. Victoria Reed. Claire’s business partner. The thirty-five percent shareholder. Her sister-in-law. Or, rather, the sister of the man my wife was sleeping with. “There’s more,” Daniel continued. “Sebastian owns a boutique trading firm. Five million in seed capital. He’s the face of it, but the ‘Beneficial Owner’ listed in the private filings…” Daniel hesitated. “It’s Claire, Miles. It’s your wife.” The silence on the line stretched out. “Miles, do you see the play here? This isn’t just a fling.” I saw it perfectly. Victoria wanted more control of the company. If Claire and Sebastian were “linked,” the Reeds could effectively control Claire’s thirty-five percent. Combined with Victoria’s thirty-five, they’d have seventy percent. Absolute power. And I, the legal spouse, was the only obstacle. In our state, the appreciation of her company shares during the marriage was considered marital property. If Claire wanted to funnel the value of the company to the Reeds, she had to get rid of me first. Divorce me, or make me want to leave. The beef stew, the “don’t stay too late”—it was all just smoke and mirrors to keep me docile until the trap was set. She was waiting for the perfect moment to cut me loose. Probably right after they got back from the Maldives. I hung up and sat in my office until the city lights flickered on outside. Four years. Was any of it real? I didn’t know. But I knew one thing for certain. She wanted me to walk away with nothing. I wasn’t going to let that happen. 05 That weekend, Claire told me there was a “company retreat” and she wouldn’t be home. “Have fun,” I said. Thirty minutes after she left, I went out. I didn’t follow her—that was beneath me. Instead, I went to a public records office and pulled the filings for every entity Claire was associated with. Three companies. The first was the tech firm she started with Victoria. I knew that one.

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My mother is a titan of industry, a permanent fixture on the Forbes list, and a ghost in my actual life. My father was the “supportive” one, the man who stayed behind to raise me while she conquered the world. He always told me she looked down on us—that to her, we were just “small-town trash.” He claimed she only sent eight hundred dollars a month for our living expenses, calling us “stray dogs that could never be fed enough.” I hated her with every fiber of my being for that. Until the day she made a surprise appearance at my university, looked at the sad tray of cafeteria food in front of me, and frowned. “I wire twenty thousand dollars to your account every single month,” she said, her voice cold and confused. “Is this really what you’re choosing to eat?” … 1 My phone screen buzzed on the library table. A notification from the bank. [Arthur Miller has transferred $800.00 to your account ending in XXXX.] Eight hundred. The number felt like a needle pricking a raw nerve. I put the phone down, a dull, hollow ache blooming in my stomach. To save money, I’d only eaten one meal yesterday. Now, I had to make this eight hundred last for thirty days in one of the most expensive cities in the country. My roommate, Sophie, leaned over and caught a glimpse of the screen. She immediately bristled on my behalf. “Rose, is your mom actually made of stone? What is eight hundred dollars supposed to do in Chicago? I spent forty bucks on a Uber and a latte yesterday! This isn’t an allowance; it’s an insult.” She reached for a small bottle of imported serum on her desk—a tiny glass vial that cost more than my entire month’s budget. I forced a smile that felt more like a grimace. She didn’t get it. She couldn’t. To my mother, the Great Diana Montgomery, we probably were just beggars. My father’s face flashed in my mind—that look of weary resignation he always wore. Since I was a child, he’d whispered the same poison into my ear. “Rose, your mother is a creature of the city. She despises where we come from. She looks down on me, she looks down on you, and she certainly doesn’t care about your sick uncle or your grandparents.” “I go to her,” he’d say, his voice cracking. “I beg her to give you a better life, and do you know what she calls us? She says the Miller family is a pack of ungrateful leeches. She says we’re just parasites trying to bleed her dry.” Those words had taken root in me, growing into a thicket of resentment. My phone buzzed again. It was him. “Rose…” His voice sounded exhausted. “It’s… it’s eight hundred again this month.” “I asked her. I swear, I practically got on my knees, but she said not a penny more.” He paused, a heavy sigh rattling through the line. “It’s my fault. I’m a failure of a father for letting you live like this.” Anger and pity surged through me. It wasn’t his fault. He was the one who had endured her cruelty for years just to stay by my side. The thought of a grown man having to beg his ex-wife for his daughter’s grocery money broke my heart. “Dad, stop,” I interrupted, my voice thick. “I’ll find a part-time job on campus. I can take care of myself.” “Good girl,” he whispered, sounding like he was on the verge of tears. “Just… don’t go hungry, okay?” I hung up. The dorm room felt suffocatingly quiet. I pulled a bag of two-day-old bagels from my drawer, tore off a piece, and forced myself to chew. It was dry, hard, and tasted like cardboard. My phone lit up again. The class group chat was exploding. [Birthday drinks for the class president tonight! Karaoke then late-night sushi. See you all at the usual spot!] [I heard that new Omakase place is $150 per person minimum. Let’s go big!] [Split the bill, obviously! But for Ben, it’s worth it!] The “it-girl” of our major tagged everyone. [@Rose Miller, you’re coming, right? Don’t be a hermit! It’s Ben’s 21st, no excuses!] I turned the phone face down, trying to shut out their world. $150. To them, it was a Tuesday night. To me, it was two weeks of survival. I picked up the phone, my fingers hovering over the glass. I typed and deleted, typed and deleted. Finally: [Sorry guys, I’ve got a shift at work tonight. Have a drink for me! Happy Birthday, Ben!] A lie. But I had no choice. I was too poor to have friends. I curled up on my bed, retreating into the dark. The joy of being a normal college student was a luxury I couldn’t afford. That night, I dreamed of the woman I only saw in business magazines. She was standing over my father, who was collapsed on the floor. “Arthur,” she sneered in my dream, “you and that hillbilly daughter of yours are nothing but dogs begging for scraps.” 2 A few days later, a glossy poster appeared on the campus bulletin boards. GUEST LECTURE: DIANA MONTGOMERY. Her name was printed in bold, authoritative serif right in the center. My heart did a violent somersault. I turned to bolt, but Sophie grabbed my arm, squealing with excitement. “Rose, look! It’s Diana Montgomery! An actual billionaire on our campus!” “Oh my god, can you imagine being her? I heard she cleared three billion in acquisitions last year alone.” “My mom literally has her autobiography on her nightstand like it’s the Bible!” I was dragged, kicking and screaming internally, into the packed auditorium. Diana stood on the stage. She was wearing a suit that probably cost more than my father’s house, speaking with a precision and clarity that commanded the room. She looked nothing like the screeching, bitter woman my father described. She looked… powerful. And terrifyingly calm. My chest tightened. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. When the lecture ended, the university deans swarmed her like moths to a flame. I kept my head down, trying to melt into the crowd of students heading for the exit. “Rose Miller.” The hall went silent. A hundred heads turned in unison. I froze, the blood draining from my face. She didn’t acknowledge the deans. She walked straight through the parting crowd until she was standing directly in front of me. “With me. Now.” She led me out of the hall. I could hear the whispers rising behind us like a tide. “Wait, is she Montgomery’s daughter?” “No way. Look at her clothes. She looks like she shops at a thrift bin.” “If that’s her daughter, why does she look so… tragic?” The words cut deeper than any knife. I clenched my fists, saying nothing. She led me to the student union cafeteria. It was the lunch rush. I felt her eyes on me as I reflexively went for the cheapest option—a side of steamed broccoli and a scoop of white rice. Four dollars and fifty cents. She looked at my tray, her brow furrowing into a sharp V. “I wire twenty thousand dollars to your account every single month,” she said. “Is this really what you’re choosing to eat?” Twenty thousand? The number exploded in my brain. “What… what are you talking about? Twenty thousand?” My voice was trembling so hard I could barely get the words out. I only ever saw eight hundred. She blinked, looking genuinely confused. “On the 15th of every month, a transfer goes out. Twenty thousand dollars.” She pulled out her phone and turned the screen toward me. There it was. A long, unbroken list of transfers. $20,000.00. Every single month. The recipient’s name: Arthur Miller. My world tilted on its axis. My hands went cold; my mind went blank. Where was the money? “Your father… he didn’t give it to you?” she asked, her eyes searching mine. I forced myself to stay upright. I swallowed the bile rising in my throat and plastered on a stiff, fake smile. “Oh. Right. Dad mentioned it. I… I just put it all into a long-term savings account. I forgot.” The moment the lie left my lips, I saw the tension leave her shoulders. “Rose,” she said, her voice softening just a fraction. “I know I haven’t been around. I’ve been… busy. I thought the money would at least make things easier for you.” “It does,” I lied again. “By the way,” she added casually, “why don’t I ever see you driving the Porsche I bought for your eighteenth? Your father said you hated it, so I didn’t push, but it seems a waste.” A car? Another thing I had never heard of. I gripped the fabric of my pockets, trying to stay grounded. “The city… parking is a nightmare. I didn’t want the hassle.” I made some more excuses and practically ran back to my dorm. I slammed the door and slid down against it, my body shaking uncontrollably. I pulled out my phone and found the contact I had never dared to call. Mom. She picked up on the second ring. “Rose?” I bit my lip so hard I tasted copper. “Mom… I… I need some money. An emergency.” There wasn’t a second of hesitation. “Of course. How much?” “Fifty… fifty thousand,” I said, a number that felt astronomical. “I’ll send it now.” “Mom, wait. Send it to a new account. I’ll text you the details.” “Done.” Ten seconds after I sent the info, my phone buzzed. $50,000.00. Instant. The memo read: Don’t ever hesitate to ask. Take care of yourself. I stared at the screen until the words blurred. This was the woman I had hated for eighteen years? I wiped my eyes and opened a different chat. I took a deep breath and typed to my father: [Dad, I have a huge emergency. Can you please, please ask Mom for some extra money?] His reply came back almost instantly. [You know how she is, Rose. She’ll just use it as an excuse to insult us. You have to learn to handle your own problems. Asking her only makes her despise us more. I’m sorry, honey. My hands are tied.] I stared at those words. My blood turned to ice. For eighteen years, I had been a pawn in his sick, twisted game. I took the money my mother had just sent and used it to hire the most expensive private investigator in the city. My goal was simple: I wanted every single bank statement associated with my father, Arthur Miller. 3 At 2:00 AM, I opened the encrypted file the PI sent over. Every month on the 15th, $20,000 arrived from my mother’s corporate account. And every month on the 16th, exactly $19,200 was transferred out. The recipient? Robert Miller. My “sick, bedridden” uncle. Eight hundred. My entire life—my meals, my clothes, my dignity—had been calculated down to the last cent. My father and his brother were tossing me the scraps of my own life like I was a dog under the table. No wonder my cousin Tyler was driving a brand-new car and wearing designer clothes. No wonder my grandparents looked at me with such pitying contempt every time I went home. They thought I was a charity case, a failure who couldn’t even get her “rich bitch” mother to love her. And my father? He was the hero. The martyr who “endured” his wicked ex-wife to provide for the family. I stared at the ledger until my eyes burned. I dragged the file into the trash and emptied it. The next day was the 16th. My father called right on schedule. “Rose, did the money hit? Make it last, okay? Don’t go wasting it on frivolous things.” “I got it, Dad,” I said, my voice perfectly level. “Thank you for begging her for me. I know how much it hurts your pride.” I could practically hear his smug satisfaction through the phone. “As long as you’re okay, it’s worth any humiliation.” I hung up and opened Instagram. I went straight to my cousin Tyler’s profile. His latest post was him sitting in a white Porsche Cayenne, grinning like a shark. The caption: Shoutout to my Uncle Artie for closing another “big deal”! Family first! The comments were a cesspool of Miller relatives. Aunt Sarah: Artie is the backbone of this family! So proud! Uncle Robert: We’d be nothing without your sacrifice, brother! A volcano of cold, hard rage erupted in my chest. I dialed my father back immediately. “Dad,” I said, making my voice tremble. “There’s an exchange program in London. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime chance, but I need a thirty-thousand-dollar deposit by tomorrow.” “Thirty thousand?!” he barked. “Rose, have you lost your mind? Where am I supposed to get that kind of money? That woman would kill me! She won’t give us a dime!” I squeezed my eyes shut, leaning into the performance. “But Dad… I heard some students say that for things like this, moms usually want to help. Actually, when she was here, she gave me her private number. She said I could call her if it was urgent.” I paused for effect. “Maybe I should just call her myself? Maybe if I explain it, she’ll say yes?” Silence. Absolute, dead silence on the other end. I could hear his breathing turn shallow and panicked. “No! Rose! Don’t you dare!” he hissed, his voice cracking. “Don’t humiliate yourself! You don’t know her like I do. She’ll tear you apart!” “Don’t worry about the money! I’ll figure it out! I’ll sell the house if I have to! I’ll go crawl to her on my hands and knees! Just… stay away from her. Do not call her!” I listened to his frantic rambling until he hung up. Thirty minutes later, a text arrived: [Rose, I found the money. I’m transferring it now. Just please, for the love of god, stay away from your mother. If she finds out we’re asking for more, we’re both finished.] I looked at the word “finished” and smiled. No, Dad. You’re done.

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