Category: English

1 Heavy snow sealed the mountain passes, burying the jagged peaks in deadly white. As the only woman to conquer Deadwood Pass’s seventy-two switchbacks unscathed, I was offered a ten million dollar rescue job. The target was stranded at the ridge’s end. I’d been there before—ten years earlier. My seventeen year old daughter and her friends were paragliding when a sudden storm forced a brutal cliffside landing. Rescue never came in time. My girl froze to death on those merciless rocks. Later, I learned my husband, James, ignored her plight. He spent millions redirecting every helicopter and snowcat to save his first love’s child—who’d only sprained an ankle. That day, I quit my tenured professorship and moved to this frozen backwater, becoming a penniless tow truck driver. For a decade, I ran that lethal highway until every icy curve and drop was etched in my bones. No one else died on my watch. Now my best friend begged me to take this job, slapping the offer on my grease stained table. I glanced at the photo—a face I’d never forget—let out a dry laugh, and dropped my keys. “Not this one.” Jess was still riding the high of a massive payday dropping out of the sky. Hearing my words, she froze, her jaw practically hitting the floor. “Wait, Sarah, are you out of your damn mind? This is ten million bucks!” “We’ve been rotting in this frozen armpit of a town for a decade and haven’t seen a fraction of that kind of cash. And you’re just walking away?” We had bled and frozen together on these roads for years. Jess wasn’t about to let me throw away a winning lottery ticket. She physically blocked the door as I tried to leave the dispatch cabin. “Sarah, wake the hell up. Go splash some freezing water on your face and think about this! Ten years ago, you dragged yourself in here looking like a stray dog. You had nothing. Your ex-husband threw you away like garbage!” “This is your golden ticket! Don’t you want to shove this massive win right in his arrogant face? Make him grovel and beg for a second chance?” I gently but firmly pushed Jess’s hand away from the doorframe. My chest felt incredibly heavy. “I don’t care about getting back at anyone. My mind is made up. Drop it, Jess. I’m going home.” “Sarah!” Frustrated by my stubbornness, Jess was practically sweating despite the drafty cabin, screaming at my back. “Even if you bail on this, you need a damn good reason! I know you. You are not the kind of person who just sits back and watches someone die!” I stopped in my tracks. Slowly, I turned to look at her, my eyes entirely dead. “Maybe I am exactly that kind of person.” Jess’s chest heaved. “We’ve known each other for a decade. Every time the scanner goes off, you never say no. You are always the first one behind the wheel. It doesn’t matter if it’s an avalanche warning or a whiteout blizzard. When the whole crew begs you to stay back, you always say a kid’s life matters more than yours.” “How could you possibly be that cold? Sarah, just tell me why.” “There is no why. Find someone else. I’m not driving.” I pushed the door open. Jess followed me out into the biting cold, violently running her hands through her hair in pure agitation. “The weather up on Deadwood gets worse every year! A few guys tried to run it a couple of winters ago and none of them came back alive. If you don’t go, nobody on this mountain will touch that route.” “Are you sick? Is it your back? Look, I’ll ride shotgun. I’ll handle the winches and the heavy lifting, you just drive.” “You have to give us something, Sarah! The girls in our crew are drowning in debt. They are waiting for a miracle, and you owe them an explanation!” Looking out at the towering, snow-capped peaks in the distance, I asked myself what had kept me coming back to these seventy-two deadly switchbacks that had claimed so many lives. It was my daughter. It was her voice, echoing in my nightmares, crying out for her mom to save her. It was the sheer, desperate will to keep her memory alive. Even when I was bleeding out in a wrecked cab, I forced myself to stay awake. I swore to myself that no other mother in this world would ever have to feel the soul-crushing agony of losing a child. Swallowing down the lump in my throat, I fought back the tears threatening to spill. “I’ll explain it to the crew myself. Just stop pushing me.” Maybe it was the absolute, raw devastation in my eyes that finally silenced Jess. She didn’t try to block my path again. “I don’t get it,” she whispered. “But you’re my girl. I believe you have your reasons. I’ll go talk to the others.” Before I could even reach my beat-up truck in the yard, my burner phone buzzed. It was a number I had spent a decade trying to scrub from my brain. “My wife and I are almost at the base of the mountain. I want to know why you’re refusing the extraction. Is it the money? I can write a check for another ten million right now.” “Or name your price. As long as you pull my daughter off that ridge, I will give you anything you want.” That familiar, suffocatingly arrogant voice pierced right through my eardrum, exactly the same as it was ten years ago. My knuckles turned white around the plastic casing of the phone. “I don’t want anything. I cannot save your daughter.” James didn’t recognize my voice. He began to shout, the polished veneer cracking to reveal a desperate, trembling panic. “You sound old enough to be a parent! Do you not have kids of your own?” “If your child was trapped in a freezing death zone, could you really just sit there and leave them to die?” 2 Leave them to die? A bitter, twisted smile crept onto my lips. Back when I found out James had diverted the entire fleet of helicopters for his first love’s kid, I had screamed those exact words at him. I had screamed until my throat bled, asking him how a stranger’s child could possibly be more important than his own flesh and blood. He was terrifyingly calm. His voice over the phone hadn’t held a single tremor. “I had the medical team analyze their vitals. Sophie has a stronger baseline constitution than Beth, so logistically, we had to secure Sophie first.” “Neither of us wanted anyone to die. It’s a tragedy, but the situation is what it is. I’m grieving too, you know.” He claimed he was grieving, yet the moment I shoved the divorce papers at his chest, he turned around and married his precious first love before the ink was even dry. “The kid up there isn’t your biological daughter, right? If she was your real flesh and blood, would you be doing all this?” James didn’t hesitate for a microsecond. “I don’t care about biology. I raised her. She is my daughter.” “And if she was my biological child? I would liquidate every asset I own and risk my own life to get her down from there.” Before I could even formulate a response, he let out a scoff of pure condescension. “Since you clearly did your homework and know I’m the CEO of Bode Holdings, you should understand that doing me this favor will set you up for life.” “I can bump the bounty to fifty million dollars. People like you couldn’t make fifty million if you worked for a thousand lifetimes.” “If you have half a brain, you’ll grab this ticket out of poverty instead of being a stubborn hillbilly and dragging your husband and kids down with you.” I actually laughed out loud. “You really are Father of the Year.” I had dreamed of my little girl more times than I could count. In the dreams, she always looked up at me with those big, innocent eyes, asking why Daddy didn’t want to save her. Why he picked a friend’s daughter over his own. I could never give her an answer. Deep down, I knew the ugly truth. James never loved me, which meant my child was never going to be his priority. “Fifty million is a hell of a lot of money. But it’s a shame. I don’t need it. Find another driver.” I killed the call and powered off the phone completely. The second I stepped out of the yard, the rest of the crew swarmed me. Rhonda, our grizzled team captain, blocked my path. “Sarah, you can’t walk away from this. Do you have any idea who’s trapped up there? The Bodes. We are dirt-poor mechanics and tow-truck drivers. We cannot afford to piss off billionaires.” Of course I knew. James and Lexi’s fairytale wedding had been plastered all over the national news. A real-life romance that made the internet swoon. Nobody remembered me. Nobody remembered my daughter. “James is Sophie’s stepdad, but he treats her like gold! And he controls Bode Holdings. He practically owns Denver!” “And Lexi Bode? She’s a world-renowned surgeon. People like that can crush us like bugs.” Jess stood there with red eyes, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “On top of that, they did background checks. They found out about Brenda’s kid needing a kidney transplant. Lexi said if you drive the rig, she’ll pull strings at the transplant center. Toby will have a new kidney by next Friday.” Brenda dropped to her knees right in the filthy slush, dragging her sickly son Toby down with her. She looked up at me, absolutely broken. “Sarah. Please. I’m begging you. I’ll kiss the dirt you walk on. He’s my only baby. Please save my Toby.” Toby, his face pale and swollen from the dialysis, wrapped his thin arms around my work boots. “Auntie Sarah… I don’t want to die…” James hadn’t changed a bit. He still knew exactly how to manipulate human weakness. He was still completely devoid of humanity. I stood there in silence. I pulled a crushed cigarette from my leather jacket, lit it, and exhaled a thick cloud of smoke into the freezing air. My voice came out like gravel. “Today is my daughter’s death anniversary.” Rhonda rushed to speak. “We know, Sarah, we remember! Once you get this kid down the mountain, we will all go visit Beth’s grave with you.” “Yeah!” Brenda sobbed, snot and tears freezing to her face. “You’ve saved so many kids out here! Just save Toby too! This is the only chance he has left!” Before I could say another word, the deep, aggressive roar of a V8 engine echoed through the canyon. A sleek, matte-black G-Wagon skidded to a halt right in front of us. The heavy door swung open. James stepped out into the mud, his sharp, predatory eyes locking instantly onto my face. 3 Almost immediately, naked disgust flashed across his features. He didn’t recognize me. I hadn’t seen a salon in years. After a decade of brutal mountain winters, I was no longer the radiant, soft-spoken, highly respected university professor he once knew. Right now, I was wrapped in a greasy, peeling leather jacket I hadn’t washed in weeks. My face was weather-beaten, covered in rough windburn and premature, deep-set wrinkles from squinting into snowstorms. Compared to his tailored wool overcoat and pristine Italian leather shoes, I looked like absolute gutter trash. “So you’re the so-called legendary female driver of Deadwood Pass?” He let out a short, mocking laugh. “Do you have any concept of what fifty million dollars is? It could buy your pathetic life a hundred times over.” I didn’t answer. I just took another drag of my cigarette. The passenger door opened. Lexi stepped down into the slush. Her gaze swept over me. She tried to maintain a facade of calm grace, but the elitist superiority practically rolled off her in waves. “My husband’s delivery might be harsh, but he’s stating facts. Your entire crew works yourselves to the bone year-round, and what do you bring in? Maybe thirty grand? Split five ways?” “This fifty million won’t just buy you groceries. It will catapult you into a tax bracket you can’t even comprehend. It’s generational wealth.” “Are you really going to let pride ruin your life?” I gave her a faint smile. “My answer is still no.” “Why? Give me a rational explanation.” “I don’t need one.” James’s patience snapped. He glared at me, his eyes looking like chips of dirty ice. “Bullshit. Every human action has a motive. If you’re refusing, it’s because you think you have leverage to squeeze more out of us!” Lexi’s elegant mask finally slipped, her face hardening. “Look, don’t be greedy. People who bite off more than they can chew end up choking.” “You people reek of cheap booze and desperation. All you want is to climb out of the mud and be somebody, right? I can give you that.” “Cash, status, connections. I can get your husband a cushy corporate job in Denver. Whatever he wants, I can make it happen by making a single phone call.” “And your kid. I can get them into an Ivy League feeder school. Pay for a study abroad program in Europe. I’ll even set up a trust fund for when they get married and have kids of their own.” I chuckled, the sound dry and hollow. “Married and have kids?” Beth had actually talked about that. When she was a little girl, she watched some cartoon where the kids grew up and left the parents behind. She had buried her face in my chest, crying her eyes out. “Mommy, I’m never getting married! That way, when you and Daddy get old, I can just stay with you forever so you won’t be lonely!” Someone in the crew, eager to appease the billionaires, blurted out an answer to James. “Her ex-husband cheated on her, man. And her daughter passed away.” James raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms with a smug, knowing look. “Well, your ex-husband was a smart man. A cold-blooded, heartless woman who’d watch a kid die for leverage? Any random whore off the street would be a better partner than you.” “Walking out on you was the best decision he ever made. And your kid died? Let me take a wild guess. Was it your fault?” My hands balled into tight fists, my nails digging into my palms as I glared at him with pure hatred. James didn’t back down an inch. He sneered, enunciating every syllable. “When your kid was dying, were you acting exactly like this? Stubborn, detached, playing stupid mind games until you literally dragged her to her grave?!” “Shut your damn mouth!” I hissed through clenched teeth. The sheer venom in my eyes was impossible to hide. Lexi stepped smoothly in front of him, playing the diplomat. “Excuse my husband’s temper. But since you’ve been a mother, you should be able to empathize with the absolute panic of parents trying to save their child.” She glanced at her Rolex. “The blizzard hits in exactly thirty minutes. If we delay, the extraction becomes physically impossible, and you’ll be risking your own neck.” “Playing hard to get once is a negotiation tactic. Doing it twice is just arrogant stupidity. Get in your truck. Now.” When I still didn’t move, James suddenly pointed a manicured finger right at Brenda. “You can stand your ground. But what about these friends of yours? The ones who bleed with you? Are you really going to screw them over too?” “You cross me today, and not only will her kid never see a kidney donor, I will personally guarantee that everyone standing in this yard is blacklisted.” His voice dripped with absolute malice. “Unless you can guarantee your families will never get sick, there isn’t a single hospital in the state of Colorado that will admit you. And no company in this city will ever hire you.” 4 Brenda’s face drained of all color. She practically crawled to my boots, her tears running completely dry from sheer terror. “Sarah. Sarah, please. Please, I am begging you on my life. Just say yes.” “Nobody else can drive that ridge! Have some mercy, please look at my boy!” Rhonda’s face was grim. She grabbed my shoulders, letting out a heavy sigh. “The Bodes actually have that kind of power, Sarah. You have to…” I shoved Rhonda’s hands away. I looked down at Brenda and her frail son. In their desperate bid to survive, Brenda had slammed her head against the frozen ground so hard that blood was trickling down her forehead, mixing with the dirt. “I will figure something out for Toby,” I said softly. “But this gig… I really can’t do it. My hands are tied.” Something snapped inside Lexi. She lunged forward, grabbing the collar of my heavy leather jacket, and delivered a vicious, stinging slap across my face. Every ounce of her fake, upper-class grace evaporated. “We called every single rescue outfit in the state! They all said you’re the only freak crazy enough to run this pass, and now you’re telling me your hands are tied?!” “That is a human life up there! You let her die, and you are a goddamn murderer!” I let out a dark laugh. My hand shot out, grabbing a fistful of her expensive, blown-out hair. I yanked her head back and returned the slap, twice as hard. “You’re the goddamn murderer!” James, who had just watched his wife slap me with smug satisfaction, turned purple with rage the second my hand made contact with her cheek. “Get her!” he barked. The massive private security guards he brought swarmed me, slamming me face-first into the filthy, packed snow. James stepped forward, grinding the sole of his designer shoe directly into the side of my face. “You think you can lay hands on my wife, you piece of trash? You want to do this the hard way? Fine. Tie every single one of her friends up. For every minute she refuses to drive, throw one of them off the ravine!” I struggled wildly against the heavy boots pinning me down, screaming at the top of my lungs. “Don’t you dare!” “Watch me,” he growled, pressing his shoe down so hard I could hear my own teeth grinding together against the ice. “This place is off the grid anyway. We’ll just tell the cops your little crew got buried in an avalanche during a heroic rescue attempt. Who’s gonna prove otherwise?” The guards dragged Rhonda, Brenda, and the others toward the sheer drop at the edge of the yard. The first one they pushed to the brink was Jess. Sweat soaked through her winter gear despite the freezing wind. She was absolutely terrified, screaming back at me. “Sarah! Sarah, please! I don’t want to die! I haven’t even seen my boy graduate yet!” My eyes went bloodshot. I stared at my crew, my jaw clenched so tight I tasted copper. Slowly, I turned my gaze up to James’s face. “Pull them back from the edge!” James smirked. He lifted his foot off my face and surprisingly reached down, grabbing my arm to help me up. He even brushed the dirty snow off my lapels with a patronizing smile. It was as if the psychotic billionaire from three seconds ago had never existed. “I’m so glad you’ve come to your senses. I expect you to bring my daughter back without a single scratch on her.” “Because if anything happens to her, my wife and I will get very, very creative with you.” Hearing those words, a raw, manic laughter clawed its way out of my throat. I couldn’t stop. “Is that right? Losing a kid makes you suffer? Really? Because rumor has it, the kid you had with your first wife died too.” James’s eyebrow twitched violently. “You didn’t shed a single tear for her. You finalized the divorce, married the mistress without skipping a beat, and didn’t even bother to go to the morgue to identify your own daughter’s body.” “Do you ever think about her? Does your chest ache? When you wake up in the dead of night, have you ever shed a single goddamn tear for her?” James’s lips began to tremble. For a split second, a flash of genuine, agonizing pain cut through the ice in his eyes. “Who… who the hell are you? How do you know that? Did you… did you know me before?” I spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva. “Someone as high and mighty as you? How could gutter trash like me ever know you?” “James, stop! A broke mechanic wouldn’t know us. She’s just reading tabloid garbage. Stop wasting time and get her in the truck!” Lexi grabbed my arm, practically dragging me toward my reinforced tow rig. “Get in the damn driver’s seat!” When I still refused to move my feet, she shrieked at the guards. “Throw the loudmouth off the cliff!” Rhonda screamed until her voice cracked. “Sarah, get in the truck! Are you really going to let Jess die? She’s had your back for ten years!” Jess was ghost-pale, her eyes wide with total despair. “Sarah, why?! At least tell me why before they kill me!” I squeezed my eyes shut. The pain radiating through my chest was so intense my knees almost buckled. “Because if I get up there,” I whispered, my voice trembling with a decade of suppressed venom, “I won’t be able to stop myself from wrapping my hands around her throat and choking the life out of her.” “I can save anyone in this godforsaken world. But I will never save her.”

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1 My heart beats with corpse-like steadiness. Fever, blood loss—nothing changes it. At eighteen, the Heustons locked me in their penthouse ICU. Not for love. Cindy’s one-of-a-kind bio-neural heart needed my rhythm as its core frequency. My steadiness kept her alive. Three months ago, a nurse bumped a monitor patch. Five minutes later, Cindy’s heart stopped cold in Europe. By morning, the agency was bankrupt, staff blacklisted. The penthouse elevator ran silent after that. Then Cindy left for Europe. Garrett Montgomery, her fiancé, took over. He slammed down my nine-figure medical bill. “Millions for this? A useless parasite?” He tore off my patches, killed the sync lines, and shoved me onto a treadmill. “Ten miles. Fail, and you’re out.” I gripped the rails. My heart hammered—first time ever. He killed the alarm instantly. He didn’t know. Twelve time zones away, Cindy’s heart was spiraling with mine. … Within three seconds, the treadmill belt went from a slow walk to a sprint. Two security guards grabbed my arms, pinning me to the handrails. The spot on my chest where the patch had been ripped off burned like fire. “Crank the speed up.” Garrett stood behind the glass wall, arms crossed, watching coldly. The nurse paled. “Mr. Montgomery, he cannot engage in strenuous exercise…” “The Heuston family spends a hundred million a year to maintain his heartbeat,” Garrett sneered, his eyes narrowing. “Let’s see just how precious it actually is.” The speed climbed to level ten. My knees slammed against the edge of the belt, and my vision went dark. Alarms screamed through the intercom: “Mother frequency lost. Remote synchronization risk rising.” I gripped the handrails, my knuckles turning white, my voice shredded by gasps. “Don’t… don’t cut the synchronization cable.” Garrett stepped in, leaning down to look at me. “Still acting?” He slapped a stack of annual bills against my face. Maintenance for the climate-controlled chamber, salaries for the medical team, imported drugs, dedicated servers: the numbers were staggering. He picked up a page and read it aloud. “One hundred and thirty million a year.” “What value do you bring to the Heustons?” “Nothing. You just lie there and breathe.” Cold sweat poured down my forehead, and my heart felt as though it were being squeezed by a giant fist. It wasn’t that my heart was weak; it was that if my heart rate spiraled, Cindy’s artificial heart across the globe would collapse with it. “Mr. Montgomery,” I gasped, the words catching in my throat, “stop this now… while you still can.” He slapped me across the face. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. A young nurse, Gwen, rushed forward to grab a spare monitoring patch. “Asher can’t run anymore!” With a flick of Garrett’s finger, the guards dragged Gwen away. The patch was tossed into the trash. “You’re suspended,” Garrett barked. “Say one more word, and you’ll never work in medicine again.” Gwen froze, terrified, unable to move. When the treadmill finally ground to a halt, my legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the floor. The pressure in my chest grew heavier, but the alarm suddenly cut out. Garrett had switched off the display. The room fell silent, save for my ragged breathing. He glanced toward the penthouse and smiled. “Go search his room. I want to see what kind of garbage the Heustons have been funding all these years.” Two legal consultants and guards stormed the penthouse. By the time I was dragged back up, my room was in ruins. The climate chamber was open, vials of rare medication were scattered across the floor, and the safe by my bed was forced open. A lawyer handed Garrett a stack of papers. “We found these, Mr. Montgomery.” Garrett scanned them, a slow, victorious smirk spreading across his face. “Kickback agreements with medical equipment suppliers.” He pulled out another page. “Offshore bank transfers.” He looked down at me. “What do you have to say for yourself, Asher?” I stared at the papers, a dry laugh bubbling in my throat. They weren’t mine. But I didn’t even have the strength to stand, let alone defend myself. Garrett had already written my sentence. “Colluding with suppliers, embezzling Heuston medical resources, and falsifying medical records to steal special funds.” He slapped the papers against my cheek. “As of right now, Asher’s penthouse privileges are revoked. Transfer him to a standard observation ward.” I forced my head up. “No.” The penthouse environment could not be broken. The temperature control, the silence, the servers, the patches; they were all vital. But Garrett only saw my desperation as fear. “What? Can’t survive without your luxury suite?” He knelt, gripping my jaw. “Then go ahead and die.” As they dragged me out, the central monitoring screen in the facility flashed a violent red. “Mother Frequency Lost.” “Remote Artificial Heart Synchronization Failure.” “Emergency Contact: Cindy Heuston.” Garrett looked at the screen, expressionless. With a click, he turned off the entire alarm system. At that exact moment, in a high-rise conference room in Europe. Cindy was leaning over to sign an acquisition treaty. Her pen suddenly scratched violently across the paper. In the next second, the artificial heart inside her chest let out a shrill, warning shriek. The standard ward on the third floor was loud and lacked proper climate control. I lay curled on the bed, fingers digging into the sheets, the pressure in my chest making it impossible to breathe. The door was kicked open. Dr. Alistair rushed in, his white coat unbuttoned, his face pale with panic. He was Cindy’s primary physician, the only doctor who knew the full truth. Seeing my bare chest, he turned on Garrett. “Who authorized the removal of his monitoring patches?” Garrett was lounging on the sofa, flipping through my chart. “Dr. Alistair, I am the temporary director of this facility.” He pushed a board authorization letter across the desk. “With Cindy away, I call the shots.” Alistair didn’t even look at the paper. He rushed to my bedside. “Asher can’t be in this room.” As he reached for a portable synchronizer, two guards blocked him. “Move!” Alistair roared. Garrett stood up. “Why so protective? He is a fraud, and yet you treat him like he’s more precious than Cindy herself.” Alistair clenched his jaw. He couldn’t speak. The mother-frequency connection was a closely guarded Heuston secret. If leaked, Cindy would become an immediate target in the financial markets. He forced the words out: “His synchronization cannot be interrupted. If anything happens to him, Ms. Heuston will die.” Garrett laughed. “If Asher gets hurt, Cindy dies? Dr. Alistair, I didn’t think a respectable physician like you would help a con artist spin his lies.” I tried to speak, but my lungs felt like they were filled with cement. Alistair’s face drained of color. “Mr. Montgomery, this is my final warning. Stop this now, and we can still salvage her status.” “Salvage?” Garrett’s smile was freezing. “What we need to salvage are the millions he stole.” He pointed at Alistair. “Confiscate his ID badge.” The guards pinned Alistair and dragged him out. “You’ll regret this, Garrett! You’ll kill her!” Garrett ignored the screams, turning to the IT director. “Is the backup server in the penthouse still active?” The IT director trembled. “Mr. Montgomery, we cannot shut that down. It carries the remote calibration parameters for Ms. Heuston’s artificial heart. If we cut it…” “Cindy again.” Garrett’s eyes darkened. “Every single one of you uses her name to threaten me.” He raised his walkie-talkie. “Shut it down.” The IT director lunged forward, but a guard kicked him to the floor. A moment later, the lights in the entire building flickered and dimmed. The monitor beside my bed screeched with static. My heart rate line went completely erratic. I clutched my chest, arching off the bed in violent convulsions. Outside, Alistair was pinned to the floor, veins bulging on his forehead. “Garrett! She’s going to die! Cindy is actually going to die!” Garrett stood over me, watching me convulse without moving a muscle. “Then let her.” His phone rang. An encrypted number from Europe. He answered. His assistant’s voice was frantic: “Mr. Montgomery! Ms. Heuston collapsed during the meeting! Her artificial heart has gone into emergency safe-mode! Is something happening at the facility?” Garrett’s expression flickered. He looked down at me, taking in my cold sweat and ragged, shallow breaths. Then, the hesitation vanished, replaced by cold cynicism. “They’re really playing the part well, aren’t they?” “Mr. Montgomery? Can you hear me?” the assistant screamed. Garrett hung up, turned off his phone, and threw it into his bag. “Cindy is surrounded by Europe’s finest medical minds. She doesn’t need a con artist to save her life.” I lay on the cold mattress, listening to my heartbeat slow down, beat by agonizing beat. By the time I was wheeled into the examination room, my fingers were shaking uncontrollably. The electrodes pressed against my skin felt ice-cold, and the waves on the monitor remained wild and chaotic. Dr. Alistair was pinned outside the door, his clothes covered in dust, his eyes fixed on me. “Asher, hang on!” I tried to smile, but the muscles in my face wouldn’t cooperate. It felt as though invisible wires were tightening around my chest, squeezing the life out of me. Dr. Kingsley, the chief of medicine, rushed in holding a tablet. He showed Garrett the split-screen data: my chaotic heart rate and Cindy’s remote cardiac logs. The timestamps, the spikes, and the moments of instability aligned perfectly. “The moment you ripped off his patch, her heart destabilized,” Kingsley said, his voice trembling. “When you cut the server, she collapsed. Now his heart is failing, and her artificial heart is entering critical shutdown.” Garrett smiled. “Data can be falsified. Everyone in this facility answers to Cindy. If you wanted to spin a lie to protect him, it would take you five minutes.” “Garrett, this is a human life!” Kingsley pleaded. “Which is why we are getting to the bottom of this.” Garrett forced a pen into my shaking hand. “Sign it.” I looked down. It was a voluntary confession of medical fraud and embezzlement. I managed a weak, raspy laugh. “Garrett… you aren’t punishing me. You are destroying her heart with your own hands.” His expression turned icy. “Still trying to threaten me?” “I’m not threatening you,” I whispered. “I’m trying to save her.” Garrett grabbed my wrist, forcing the pen down, scratching the paper and my finger. “You’re trying to save her? You’re just a parasite plucked from an orphanage.” He turned to the nurse. “Inject the stimulant.” Kingsley tried to stop him. “No! His rhythm is already fractured! A stimulant will trigger a complete cardiac collapse!” Garrett grabbed the syringe himself and drove it into my vein. My heart felt as though it had been dropped into boiling oil. The monitor shrieked. I slipped from the chair, knees hitting the floor, my vision fading. In the darkness, I remembered the first time Cindy met me. She was pale, hooked to machines, asking gently, “Are you willing?” I had asked what would happen if I said no. She said, “Then we won’t do it.” But I had stayed because she didn’t force me. Now, someone else was forcing me to die. At that moment, in the European ICU, Cindy opened her eyes, ripped off her oxygen mask, and gasped, “Prepare the jet. We’re going home.” By the time Garrett convened the board hearing, I couldn’t even stand. I was wheeled into the main auditorium. The room was packed with board members, lawyers, and legal advisors, their eyes filled with pity, suspicion, and disgust. Garrett stood at the front, his suit pristine. “Today, we are here to expose a massive fraud that has drained Heuston resources for years.” He projected the forged agreements onto the screen. “Asher, an orphan with no affiliation to the Heuston Group, has occupied our top-tier medical suite for years. We have reason to believe he colluded with suppliers to embezzle millions.” The room erupted into quiet whispers. Garrett turned to the nurses. “Tell everyone what Asher does in the penthouse.” The head nurse stood up. “He doesn’t participate in any research or treatment. He just rests while we cater to his every need.” Gwen tried to shout from the back of the room. “That’s because his monitoring data is directly connected to Ms. Heuston’s!” But the guards quickly dragged her out. Garrett smiled, satisfied. I looked up, committing their faces to memory. Not for revenge, but because if I died, someone needed to remember what they had done. The doors opened, and a bruised Dr. Alistair was brought in. Garrett pointed to my chest. “Dr. Alistair, you claimed Asher has a core proprietary chip implanted near his collarbone?” “That chip was authorized by Ms. Heuston herself,” Alistair spat. “It cannot be removed!” Garrett smirked. “An unauthorized civilian harboring proprietary Heuston technology. This is corporate espionage.” He stepped up to me. “Extract the chip. Send it to legal for analysis.” I panicked, struggling against the chair. “No… Garrett, don’t. She is on her way.” “Even if she returns, she will thank me for disposing of a leech.” I was pinned to the operating chair. No anesthesia. The scalpel sliced into my skin, and blood immediately soaked my shirt. The forceps reached in, grabbing the synchronizing chip near my collarbone. The main monitor flashed a violent red, warning of a complete communication failure. Garrett didn’t care. He pulled the forceps back, ripping the chip out. Just as darkness claimed me, the heavy double doors of the auditorium were blown open. Cindy, pale as a ghost, collapsed from her wheelchair directly at Garrett’s feet, her artificial heart alarm blaring at maximum volume.

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Monday morning. I was standing in the conference room, waiting for our new intern to finish photocopying a contract. The irritating whir of the paper shredder finally ground to a halt. She turned around, cradling a massive pile of paper confetti in her arms, looking at me as if expecting a gold star. My eyes zeroed in on the remnants of the paper. It was the original copy of the thirty-million-dollar contract we had just signed. My blood pressure instantly spiked to a stroke-inducing level. “Are you out of your damn mind?!” Her lower lip quivered, and massive crocodile tears immediately pooled in her eyes. “I… I didn’t know. You are being too mean.” Right at that moment, a string of glowing pink text suddenly floated through the air right in front of my eyes. [The CEO is angry! He definitely thinks our baby girl is so clumsy and cute!] [This is such a unique way to get his attention! She didn’t shred paper, she shredded the walls around his heart!] [So sweet! The domineering CEO is falling for his clumsy little wife!] Domineering CEO? Walls around my heart? Cute my ass! That was a thirty-million-dollar deal I spent six months negotiating! And I need these floating idiots to open their blind eyes. I am a female Vice President! 1 “VP Wright, look!” Bella held up the overflowing wastebasket with a proud smile. “Nobody has used that shredder in days. I was worried it might rust, so I shredded all the papers on the desk to keep it running.” “Aren’t I so thoughtful?” I stared at the bucket of destroyed documents, feeling the blood rush straight to my temples. “Are you completely out of your mind?!” Bella shrank back, her eyes turning red. She bit her lower lip and looked up at me through her lashes. “I… I was just trying to help…” she whimpered, her voice dripping with fake innocence. “You are so fierce, you terrified me.” Another string of glowing pink text materialized out of thin air, scrolling rapidly across my vision. [Wow! The CEO looks so hot when he’s mad! Is he just trying to cover up how fast his heart is beating for her?] [She didn’t just shred a contract, she shredded his defenses!] [Is this the legendary enemies-to-lovers trope? I am living for this!] I froze right where I stood. Through the translucent text, I could still see Bella’s pathetic, pouting face. The conference room door swung open. Mr. Harrison from Apex Dynamics had arrived early for our meeting. His polite smile completely vanished the second he saw the floor covered in shredded paper and Bella clutching the wastebasket. “VP Wright,” Mr. Harrison said, his gaze darting between me and the crying intern. “What exactly is going on here? Where is the contract?” I forcibly swallowed my boiling rage. “Mr. Harrison, my apologies. There has been a slight accident…” “VP Wright!” Bella let out a high-pitched shriek and dove right behind me. She grabbed fistfuls of my tailored suit jacket, pressing her body flat against my back. “Mr. Harrison, please don’t blame him! It is all my fault, I was just too clumsy. VP Wright was just disciplining me…” She shivered dramatically behind me, her fingers wrinkling the expensive fabric of my jacket. Given our current posture, Mr. Harrison was absolutely going to think we were engaging in some sort of twisted workplace roleplay. Mr. Harrison’s face turned dark. “VP Wright,” he said, his tone turning to ice. “I was under the impression that you were a professional.” “I had no idea your private life was so colorful that you needed to bring it into the boardroom for entertainment.” He turned on his heel and stormed out. Thirty million dollars. Six months of my blood, sweat, and tears. I had literally been hospitalized three times for exhaustion and revised the proposal over a dozen times for this project. Now, it was all gone. “VP Wright…” Bella peeked out from behind my back, holding up a cup of boba tea. “Please don’t be mad. Have something sweet to calm down, okay?” She tried to shove the sickeningly sweet drink into my hands. I should have just thrown it right in her face. The pink comments went absolutely wild. [Look! His hand is trembling as he takes the tea! He is so emotional!] [He loves her so much! Even after losing thirty million, all it takes is a cup of milk tea from his baby to calm him down!] [This is pure indulgence! This is a CEO’s true love!] I looked at Bella’s innocent face, then looked at the brain-dead comments floating in the air, and suddenly let out a cold, hollow laugh. 2 The next morning, we held an executive debriefing. The conference table was packed with directors. Declan Cross, our CEO, sat at the head of the table, flipping through the damage report with a face like thunder. I stood in front of the projector screen, my back perfectly straight, analyzing our contingency plans point by point. “The legal team at Apex Dynamics has given us a forty-eight-hour grace period. For the new clauses, I will…” The door banged open. Bella pranced in carrying a tray of black coffees. She wasn’t wearing her corporate uniform. Instead, she had changed into a tiny pink slip dress with a hemline that barely covered her upper thighs. Declan’s brow furrowed into a deep V, but he didn’t say a word. “You all worked so hard!” Bella chirped, her voice airy and overly sweet. “Freshly brewed coffee to wake everyone up.” She bypassed several senior directors and made a beeline straight for me. Seeing that walking disaster in pink approaching, I immediately took a half-step back. “VP Wright, you have been talking for so long. Your throat must be so dry, right?” I didn’t take the cup. I just stared at her. “Put it on the table.” “Oh, come on, just take it. I brewed it especially for you…” She shoved the cup forward. Somehow, her left foot tripped over her right, and she pitched forward. The scalding coffee flew out of her hands and splashed directly onto my lower half. My suit trousers were instantly soaked. Acting on pure reflex, I raised my hands and shoved her away before she could plaster herself against me. “Ah!” She fell sideways, her short skirt flipping up. She clutched her elbow, tears instantly spilling from her eyes. “I am so sorry… I am sorry, VP Wright. I wasn’t trying to seduce you… Please don’t touch me like that in here…” Dead silence fell over the conference room. Over a dozen pairs of eyes stared at Bella’s exposed underwear. Then their gazes shifted to my crotch, which was currently dripping with hot coffee. Finally, they looked at my hands, which had just pushed her away. Someone awkwardly coughed and looked down. Others exchanged subtle, knowing glances. The pink comments danced across the air. [Wet shirt play! So spicy!] [He is panicking! He felt so bad seeing his baby fall!] [He only pushed her away because he was afraid he couldn’t control his urges if she touched him!] [And look where he got wet… Hehehe!] “Rowan!” Declan slammed his hand on the table. “What the hell are you doing?!” All he saw was me shoving a crying girl to the floor. I didn’t bother wiping the stain. I didn’t even dare to move my legs. “Declan, she just threw boiling water on me.” “You were clearly trying to grab me… your hands were everywhere…” Bella hugged her knees, shivering like a leaf. “VP Wright, we are in the office. There are people watching…” Her words made absolutely no sense, but they successfully cemented the dirty rumor. Declan threw his files onto the table. “Get out.” He pointed at the door. “Rowan, go clean yourself up. Bella, you leave too.” I grabbed my folder and practically sprinted to the restroom. Locking myself in a stall, my hands shook as I unbuckled my belt. The inner skin of my thigh was an angry, blistering red. Outside the stall, I could hear hushed whispers. “Did you hear? VP Wright just sexually harassed the new intern right in the middle of the boardroom.” “I knew it. He uses his executive status to act all proper, but since he’s a guy, you know he plays dirty behind closed doors.” “That poor intern was crying so hard. I heard she spent the night in his office a few days ago…” I didn’t go to the hospital. I needed a new proposal drafted within forty-eight hours. I blindly smeared some burn ointment on my leg, wrapped it in gauze, changed into my backup trousers, and marched back to my office. At eleven o’clock. I finished inputting the final set of core data. All I had to do was run it through the modeling software, and the risk assessment would be complete. I hit the Enter key. My screen flickered. The monitor went pitch black. Three seconds later, the screen lit up again. But it wasn’t my desktop. It was a bright pink loading screen. Right in the center, in bold, cursive font, read: Love Simulator: The Domineering CEO’s Personal Secretary. The system threw up a fatal error. My hard drive light blinked frantically before dying completely. Every single file, including my local backups, was wiped clean. “Surprise!” Bella bounded into my office holding a tiny cupcake, not even bothering to knock. “VP Wright, I saw how hard you were working, so I specially installed a stress-relief game on your computer! Are you surprised?” 3 I slowly turned my head to look at her. “You touched my computer?” “Yeah!” Bella blinked her big, innocent eyes. “This game is super fun! Once you max out the affection meter, you unlock…” “Get out.” Bella froze. “VP Wright?” “Get the hell out of my office!” She stumbled back in terror, dropping the cupcake onto the carpet. Tears immediately flooded her eyes. Her mouth scrunched up. “Why are you yelling at me… I was just trying to be nice…” Pink text literally bounced in the air around her. [Our clumsy beauty is so cute! She just wants him to have a healthy work-life balance!] [Who cares about a bunch of boring data when he has his baby’s love?] [He looks so hot when he’s mad! He’s just using anger to hide how flustered she makes him!] [Kiss her! Press her against the desk and kiss her right now!] I stared at the floating words, the veins in my temples pulsing violently. “Boring data?” “That is the livelihood of hundreds of employees for the next month! It is something a brainless idiot who only thinks about being in heat could never comprehend!” I pointed directly at the door. “Disappear from my sight right now. HR will be contacting you tomorrow.” Bella’s expression stiffened. The very next second, she suddenly pitched her voice an octave higher and burst into screaming sobs. “VP Wright! Last night in your office, you clearly told me you loved how clumsy I was!” “You said I was like a little kitten! You even… you did all those things to me on the sofa… How can you just pull up your pants and pretend you don’t know me today?!” The CFO and several coworkers who were working overtime suddenly appeared at my door. They saw my face pale with absolute fury, while Bella huddled in the corner, shaking like a victim. “Rowan, this is…” The CFO adjusted his glasses, looking extremely uncomfortable. Bella wailed even louder. “I won’t leave! I gave my body to you, you can’t just throw me away! I don’t care about a title, I just want to stay by your side…” There were no security cameras inside the private offices. And I had been the only one pulling an all-nighter last night. My coworkers exchanged loaded glances, looking me up and down before turning their pitying eyes to Bella. “Rowan, this is really too much,” the CFO shook his head, turning to walk away. “You young men really need to watch your professional boundaries.” The pink comments scrolled at lightning speed. [Abuse your wife now, chase her in the crematorium later!] [10/10 execution! The rumors are locked in, he can never escape her now!] [Tonight is the perfect time to take him down!] [Sleep with him tonight! Once the rice is cooked, the domineering CEO will never be able to leave his baby!] The victory gala was held at the Grand Hyatt. Relying entirely on a proposal I had written by hand overnight, I managed to salvage the Apex Dynamics contract. To save face and show off our success, Declan invited over a dozen media outlets to the event. Bella was there too. She didn’t have an invitation, yet she was standing in the crowd wearing a plunging lace dress cut all the way down to her navel. I changed locations three times, and she followed me with a wine glass three times. Finally, in a secluded corner of the lounge, Bella blocked my path and offered me a glass of champagne. “VP Wright,” she said, pushing the flute toward me. “Drink this as an apology, and we can wipe the slate clean. Deal?” Several guests nearby turned their heads to watch. I took the glass but didn’t drink. “Too scared to drink it?” Bella leaned her body against mine. “Afraid I poisoned it?” I sidestepped to avoid her touch. Turning my back slightly, I dumped the champagne straight into the soil of a potted money tree, then raised the empty glass to my lips and tilted my head back. Five minutes later, my stomach began to burn. The chandeliers overhead blurred into glowing halos. The chatter of the crowd faded in and out. I pinched my thigh hard, but I couldn’t feel any pain. Whatever she used was incredibly potent. “Are you drunk, VP Wright?” Bella whispered right into my ear. “Let me help you.” She shoved me down a quiet corridor and into a private VIP suite, locking the door behind us. I collapsed heavily onto the leather sofa. Standing in front of the coffee table, Bella entirely dropped her innocent victim act. She reached up and violently ripped the collar of her dress. The lace tore with a loud rip. Then she messed up her hair and used her own fingernails to scratch harsh red lines down her arms. I couldn’t force a single sound past my lips. “System,” she muttered, staring at the empty air. “Has the item taken effect?” Pink comments exploded across the ceiling. [High-grade synthetic aphrodisiac deployed! You got this, Host!] [Forced love! Right here! So exciting!] [The villainous male side character has been immobilized. Please initiate the victim protocol immediately!] Bella suddenly unleashed a bloodcurdling scream. “Help! No, VP Wright, please! I am a decent girl!” She threw herself onto me, using her half-naked body to pin me down. She grabbed my paralyzed hand and forced it onto her chest. Crash! The door was kicked open. Declan, Mr. Harrison, and a swarm of reporters flooded the room. From their angle, all they could see was me pinning Bella to the couch. My face was flushed red, and my hand was aggressively grabbing her chest. Bella sobbed so hard she could barely breathe, desperately shoving at my shoulders. “He threatened me… He said if I didn’t obey him, I would fail my probation…” Declan stormed forward. “Rowan!” He pointed a shaking finger right in my face. “Look at what you have done!” He turned around and yelled at the security guards. “Call the police! Call them right now!” I opened my mouth to defend myself, but all I could do was gag on my own stomach acid. Bella shrank back and buried her face into Declan’s chest. In the blind spot where no one else could see, she tilted her head to look at me. The corners of her mouth curled up into a bright, victorious smile. The pink text completely flooded my vision. [Congratulations, baby! The villainous male side character has been eliminated!] [Now you are the terrified little bunny in the CEO’s arms!] [This is what happens when you mess with our clumsy beauty!] Right before my vision went completely black, I heard those five words echo in my mind. Villainous male side character. So I was nothing more than a stepping stone meant to add flavor to the male and female leads’ romance. I tried to raise my hand to rub my pounding forehead, but I was met with the sharp clatter of metal. My right wrist was yanked back. A pair of silver handcuffs locked me securely to the metal bedrail. Sitting in a chair next to the hospital bed was a female police officer in full uniform, staring at me coldly. “Awake?” The officer snapped her notepad shut. “Rowan Wright. You are under investigation for attempted sexual assault and workplace harassment. Given your medical condition, you are under supervised residential surveillance here at the hospital.” Heh. I closed my eyes. Villainous male side character. The entire foundation of Bella’s master plan relied on the core assumption that I was a “man.” Because I was a “CEO,” I was supposed to spoil her. Because I was a “male executive,” I was supposed to harass her. Because I was the “villainous male side character,” I was supposed to force myself on her. That so-called System had gotten my gender completely wrong. And Bella had never once bothered to question it. That was their fatal flaw. My phone was resting on the nightstand. The screen was lit up, bombarded with push notifications. Famous Corporate Executive Sexually Assaults Intern. A Beast in a Suit! The Dark Private Life of VP Wright. Survivor Bella Speaks Out: I Just Wanted to Do My Job. I didn’t even need to click the links to know the comment sections were praying I rotted in prison. People were probably already throwing red paint on my front door. “Officer.” The female cop looked at me coldly. “Save your breath for the interrogation room.” “The burn on my thigh needs a fresh dressing,” I said, slowly pushing myself up. “Also, I want to request a blood test.” The officer frowned. “A blood test?” “I was dosed with a heavy sedative last night. The residue should still be in my system. And…” I paused for a second. “I want to request that you personally conduct a preliminary physical examination on me, right here in this room.” “Check for what?” “Check my biological sex.” The officer froze. Her eyes scanned my face, completely bewildered. “What are you talking about? Your ID says…” “My ID says I am a woman,” I interrupted her. “But Bella, the media, and everyone outside this room seem to think I am a man.” The officer opened her mouth, but no words came out. She stood up, took three quick steps to the bed, and sharply drew the privacy curtain closed. Five minutes later. The curtain was pulled back. The officer’s face was rigid, a mixture of utter shock, deep embarrassment, and rising fury. “I will get a doctor in here to draw your blood immediately,” she said, her tone entirely stripped of its previous hostility. “And I will report this to my superiors right away.” I leaned back against my pillows, staring up at the blinding fluorescent lights. “Officer, I want to report a crime.” “Defamation, malicious framing, and poisoning with a dangerous substance.”

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1 Stella enforced extreme boundaries. For three years, I never entered her apartment or touched her phone. At dinners, she seated me far away. I believed she feared intimacy. On our wedding eve, she sent a live location pin. Thinking she was finally opening up, I went to her apartment. The door was unlocked. Inside, a man lounged on her couch in sweats, his feet in her lap, laughing as he begged for a massage. Stella looked startled, then cold. “Wrong person,” she said. “That pin was for Dylan. Carter, stop acting like a desperate dog. You’re suffocating me.” I stayed silent, amused. She was entangled with another man yet demanded privacy from me. I opened my phone and accepted my regional director’s transfer offer. If I suffocated her, she could have all the space she wanted. Space where I no longer existed. The screen loaded, displaying a brief confirmation text. [Relocation Term: 3 Years. Destination: London Branch. Departure: This Saturday.] Today was Wednesday. There were exactly three days left until the wedding, and three days left until I left the country forever. Seeing me staring silently at my phone, Stella furrowed her brows in deep annoyance. “Carter, I am talking to you.” I locked my screen and looked up at her. “Yeah. I heard you.” She clearly had not expected me to be this calm. The harsh reprimand she had prepared got stuck in her throat, making her expression turn even uglier. Dylan finally decided to pull his legs off her lap. He tugged at the fabric of his hoodie, a matching oversized piece identical to the one Stella was currently wearing. He looked at me with a sheepish, awkward smile. “Stell, this is Carter, right?” Stell. I had been dating her for three years, and I almost exclusively called her by her full name. When we first got together, I asked if we could use pet names. Stella hated the idea. She said overly affectionate nicknames made her skin crawl and made her highly uncomfortable. It turned out she was not uncomfortable with pet names at all. It just depended on who was saying them. Dylan gripped the armrest of the sofa and stood up. “Bro, please do not get the wrong idea. I twisted my ankle playing basketball, so Stell was just rubbing it out for me.” I looked down at his feet. He was wearing fuzzy blue dog slippers. The glass of milk resting on the coffee table was a novelty cartoon mug. The cushion he had been leaning against was a limited edition gaming pillow. None of those things belonged to Stella. And none of them belonged to me. A bitter sense of irony washed over me. This was my very first time standing inside my fiancée’s apartment, yet I felt like a trespasser invading a cozy little love nest she shared with someone else. Seeing my silence, Dylan’s innocent smile began to falter. “Bro, Stell and I were born in the same year. We grew up together. We have always hung out like this, so we do not really have a lot of boundaries with each other.” I shifted my gaze to Stella. She was frowning slightly, completely unfazed by the blatant absurdity of Dylan’s excuse. Yet throughout our three year relationship, her demands for boundaries with me were so severe they bordered on absolute cruelty. I was banned from her apartment. I was banned from touching her phone. I was kept entirely isolated from her inner social circle. Once, I accidentally bumped into a decorative air freshener in her car, and she instantly scowled. “Carter, I really hate it when people touch my things.” Every single rule and restriction she had meticulously drafted for me was completely non existent when it came to Dylan. I let out a soft chuckle and looked at the man standing next to her. “Dylan. I have heard a lot about you.” Stella’s face darkened. “Carter, what is with the sarcastic tone?” I looked at her, genuinely surprised she interpreted it that way. I was not being sarcastic at all. I really had heard his name brought up time and time again. The first time was on my birthday. I had booked a reservation at an upscale restaurant half a month in advance. But at the very last minute, Stella called to cancel. She said Dylan had watched a horror movie and was too terrified to sleep, so she needed to go over and coax him. The second time was when I ran a hundred and three degree fever and had to go to the emergency room. I called Stella, hoping she could drive me. She told me Dylan was throwing a massive fit over wanting artisanal donuts from a specific bakery across town, and if he did not get them immediately, he was going to cry. The third time was the day we were supposed to try on our wedding attire. She showed up two hours late. I sat alone on the velvet sofa outside the dressing rooms in my suit, waiting until my eager anticipation curdled into sheer humiliation. When she finally rushed in, her white blouse was stained with spilled iced coffee. She casually explained that Dylan had lost his cat and was devastated, so she spent the entire morning scouring the neighborhood for it. During every single one of those incidents, I never actually got angry. Because I always assumed the person capable of making someone as cold and distant as Stella break her own rules over and over again must be a helpless, immature little kid. I even promised myself that after we got married, I would treat Dylan well if he was truly that dependent on her. Stella did not have many close friends. I never wanted to put her in a difficult position. But seeing him in the flesh today, the truth slapped me across the face. Dylan was not some little kid. He was the exact same age as Stella, making him two years older than me. Dylan bit his lower lip, his eyes instantly turning red and watery. “Stell, I do not think Carter likes me.” He reached down to grab his denim jacket off the sofa. “Maybe I should just leave. I do not want you guys getting into a huge fight because of me.” Before his hand could even touch the fabric, Stella reached out and grabbed his wrist. “Why should you be the one to leave?” “The person who showed up completely uninvited is the one who needs to get out.” A sharp sting hit the back of my nose. I forced the corners of my mouth up into a dry, hollow smile. “Alright.” “I will leave.” I turned around and walked out the door. As I stood in the hallway waiting for the elevator, a quiet realization settled over me. This was my first time visiting Stella’s apartment. And it would undoubtedly be my last. 2 By the time I unlocked the door to my own apartment, it was nearly eleven at night. I bought this place entirely on my own. Stella had never stepped foot inside it. Not even once. Months ago, I suffered from stomach cramps so severe I could barely stand straight. I called her, practically begging her to drop off a box of painkillers. She just replied over the phone with chilling indifference. “Carter, we are not legally married yet.” “A man and a woman alone in an apartment at night sends the wrong message. It will ruin your reputation.” Back then, I was foolish enough to be touched by her words. I actually believed she respected me and was fiercely protecting my image. It took seeing Dylan draped over her couch in a matching outfit, resting his legs on her lap and begging for a massage, to finally wake me up. All those pristine boundaries were just convenient excuses to keep me at arm’s length. I shook the thoughts out of my head, opened my suitcase, and started packing my life away. Halfway through folding my shirts, my knuckles brushed against a heavy garment bag shoved into the very back of the closet. I froze. Inside was the custom tailored tuxedo I had paid for in full. During our wedding preparations, Stella had been completely hands off with the planning, but she was incredibly generous with her credit card. She booked the most exclusive five star hotel in the city. She secured a fleet of luxury vintage cars. She spared absolutely no expense on the catering menu. Even her wedding dress was a bespoke gown crafted by an elite Italian designer. But when it came to my tuxedo, she simply said, “Just rent one.” “You are only going to wear it for a few hours. There is zero point in wasting money on it.” On the day of our fitting, after keeping me waiting for two agonizing hours, she breezed into the boutique, pointed lazily at a random rack, and said, “That one is fine. Stop dragging this out.” But I refused to compromise. I did not want to look back on the most important day of my life with the woman I loved and feel a shred of regret. So the following week, I went to a high end menswear boutique alone and purchased the most elegant, expensive tuxedo they had. Now, it was completely useless. I took a clear photo of it and listed it on a popular second hand marketplace app. [Brand new custom tuxedo. Never worn. Selling for cheap.] The moment I hit publish, a banner notification dropped down from the top of my screen. It was a new friend request on Instagram. I opened the app. The profile picture was a shot of a guy standing on a beach, facing the ocean. At first glance, it just looked vaguely familiar. But when I noticed the specific angle of the waves in the top right corner, it hit me like a ton of bricks. It was the exact same beach from Stella’s profile picture. I used to tease her for being an old soul, picking a boring landscape photo as her avatar when she was still in her twenties. Now I knew the truth. It was never a landscape photo. It was just the cropped out half of a matching couple’s picture with Dylan. I hit accept. A second later, a direct message popped up. [Bro, really sorry about everything today. I hate that I made you misunderstand the situation.] [Let me treat you to dinner tomorrow to make up for it.] My thumbs hovered over the keyboard. I typed out “No need,” but before I could hit send, he dropped a location link. [This is my absolute favorite spot in the city. Tomorrow at 5 PM. Do not leave me hanging!] I stared at the address on the screen, feeling entirely hollowed out. It was the exact restaurant Stella always insisted on taking me to for date nights. I never really liked the place. The food was way too sweet for my taste, and the ambient lighting was frustratingly dim. But Stella suggested it every single time we went out. Over the last three years, we had eaten countless meals in that dim dining room. Most of the time, we just sat across from each other in total silence. She would be glued to her phone dealing with work, and I would quietly cut my steak. Occasionally, I would glance up at her and convince myself that this quiet companionship was its own kind of romance. Looking back on it now, the irony made me sick to my stomach. I could not help but ask the ghost of her in my head. Stella. Whenever you sat across from me at that table, who were you actually picturing in your mind? In the end, I decided to go. The next afternoon, I walked into the restaurant right on the dot. As soon as I stepped past the host stand, I spotted them in a booth by the window. Stella and Dylan were sitting shoulder to shoulder on the same side of the table. I walked over and slid into the empty booth seat across from them. Dylan stuck his tongue out in a playful, boyish manner. “Sorry about this, bro.” “I was planning on coming alone, but Stell was too worried about me. She insisted on tagging along.” Worried? What was there to be worried about? Did she think I was going to throw a drink in his face? Hearing that triggered a memory from our second year of dating. My firm had a female client who was notoriously touchy feely with the single guys whenever she had a few drinks. Every time we had a corporate dinner with her, my colleagues’ girlfriends would wait outside in the parking lot to escort them home. I casually brought it up to Stella once. She did not even look up from her laptop. “I trust you.” “You are a brilliant professional. I am sure you can handle a minor inconvenience like that.” Love, it turns out, is entirely measured in double standards. She could not even trust me to eat a simple dinner with Dylan without acting as his bodyguard. But she was perfectly fine leaving her own boyfriend to fend for himself against a predatory client because she “trusted” me. 3 The food had been ordered before I even arrived. Seeing that the table was full, the waiter began bringing out the dishes. Halfway through the service, a heavy realization sank in. Almost every single plate was seafood. Steamed coral grouper, butter and cheese baked lobster, braised sea cucumber with scallions. It was a near identical replica of our finalized wedding banquet menu. When we were selecting the catering options, I had specifically asked her about it. “I have a severe shellfish allergy, and you hate seafood. Why did you pick so many ocean dishes?” She did not even lift her eyes from the brochure. “The guests like it.” I was so blinded by love I did not think twice about it. Now the truth was staring me right in the face. Her vague “guests” was entirely singular. She catered our entire wedding menu to Dylan’s palate. I barely touched my fork the entire meal. I picked at a few pieces of boiled bok choy, chewing them like flavorless cardboard. Dylan, on the other hand, was having the time of his life. He cheerfully peeled shrimp with his bare hands while endlessly chattering about childhood memories he shared with Stella. Right in the middle of a laughing fit, he naturally reached over and dropped a large piece of crab meat directly into Stella’s bowl. “Stell, try this. It is so fresh.” My hand froze over my plate. Stella had scolded me countless times for doing that exact same thing. “Carter, focus on your own food. Stop talking while we eat.” “I hate it when people put food on my plate. It is unsanitary.” But right now, she did not push his hand away. Instead, she leaned down slightly and ate the crab meat straight off his chopsticks. A suffocating wave of isolation washed over me. I was a completely irrelevant outsider intruding on their date. I set my chopsticks down cleanly on the napkin and stood up. “Take your time. I have things to handle, so I am going to head out.” Stella finally looked up at me. “Carter, what kind of tantrum are you throwing now?” I did not bother giving her an answer. I turned my back and walked straight out of the restaurant. The moment the cold evening wind hit my face, the heavy, suffocating knot in my chest finally loosened. I pulled out my phone and drafted a text to Stella. [Let’s cancel the wedding. I am going to the hotel at 10 AM tomorrow to void the venue and catering contracts. You can come along if it is convenient.] I hit send, flagged down an Uber, and went straight back to my apartment. By the time I went to bed, she had not replied. I did not wait up for one. I spent the evening organizing my relocation paperwork, took a hot shower, and fell fast asleep. The next morning, I arrived at the hotel lobby right on time. I sat on a velvet armchair for nearly half an hour. Stella never showed up. I dialed her number. It rang twice before she picked up. Before I could say a word, her deeply annoyed voice came through the speaker. “My mom told me to bring you over to the house today to finalize the last details for the wedding. I am already here. Just grab a cab and come over.” I gripped my phone, silence hanging in the air for a long moment. She clearly had not seen my text. Or maybe she did see it, and just dismissed it as another one of my empty bluffs. After a long pause, I gave a quiet reply. “Alright.” Fine. If she wanted an audience, I would cancel the wedding right in front of everyone. The Davis family shared Stella’s obsession with strict boundaries. Even with the wedding literally days away, I could count the number of times I had been invited to their house on one hand. Every time I visited, Mrs. Davis would politely pour me a cup of tea while Mr. Davis sat silently in the corner reading his newspaper. We were supposed to be merging our families, but it always felt like there was an impenetrable pane of bulletproof glass between us. But today was entirely different. The moment my Uber pulled up to their driveway, I could hear loud, echoing laughter spilling out of the living room windows. I pushed the front door open, immediately realizing Stella had not come alone. Dylan was sitting right next to Mrs. Davis on the plush sofa. He was practically hanging off her arm like a spoiled toddler. “Godmother, you need to tell Stell to back off.” “I wanted to wear my vintage shorts today, but she threw a fit and forced me to change into these jeans.” Mrs. Davis laughed so hard the wrinkles by her eyes crinkled. She affectionately tapped him on the forehead with her index finger. “I am on Stella’s side for this one.” “Those shorts are way too short. You are absolutely forbidden from wearing them out.” “I will take you to the mall this afternoon and buy you a whole new wardrobe.” Dylan’s eyes crinkled into bright crescents. “You are the best, Godmother.” My own mother passed away when I was very young. When Stella and I first got serious, I genuinely wanted to treat Mrs. Davis like a second mother. I bought her lavish gifts for every holiday. I brought back expensive local specialties every time I traveled for work. I cautiously invited her out for lunch or shopping trips to bond. But she never once wore the silk scarf I bought her. The luxury skincare sets I gave her were quietly passed down to their housekeeper. As for my invitations, her answer was always a polite, “Maybe next time,” or “Let us see how my schedule looks.” Back then, I naively believed she was just a busy woman. Now, the brutal truth was undeniable. When someone actually wants to see you, they will give you a specific time and place. They do not brush you off with a vague “next time” to keep you at a comfortable, permanent distance. The laughter in the room instantly died the second they noticed me standing in the doorway. Mrs. Davis seamlessly slipped back into the polite, distant mask I was so accustomed to. “Carter, you made it. Come sit down.” I walked over and chose a single armchair placed as far away from them as possible. I looked directly at Stella. “Did you not see the text message I sent you last night?” Stella frowned, looking genuinely confused. “What text message?” She pulled her phone out of her pocket. “If you have something important to say, why can’t you just say it to my face instead of texting…” Her voice trailed off abruptly. 4 “The entire chat thread is completely gone. What happened?” Dylan immediately scrambled off the sofa and jogged over. He clasped his hands together, flashing Stella a guilty, highly exaggerated smile. “Stell, my bad!” “I borrowed your phone last night to play a mobile game and accidentally swiped left and deleted Carter’s chat. It shouldn’t be a big deal, right?” Stella let out a fond, exasperated sigh. “If it is deleted, it is deleted. It is not the end of the world.” “You accidentally factory reset my phone a few months ago and I did not even yell at you for that, did I?” Dylan giggled mischievously and darted back to the safety of Mrs. Davis’s side. I sat frozen in my armchair, feeling the blood slowly drain from my fingertips. The woman who treated her phone like classified government property, refusing to let me even tap the screen to check the time, casually handed it over to another man to play video games. Even when he wiped her entire data history, she brushed it off with a gentle smile. Stella turned her attention back to me. “What did you text me last night? Just tell me now since we are all here.” I suddenly changed my mind. For three agonizing years, she had never given me a single ounce of the respect a fiancé deserved. Why was I trying so hard to give her a formal, respectful notice? It was pathetic. I lowered my eyes and kept my voice perfectly flat. “Nothing. It was not important.” Stella’s frown deepened, but she did not press the issue. Instead, Mrs. Davis chimed in with a warm smile. “Carter, how is the groomsmen situation looking?” “Do you think you can clear a spot for Dylan in your party?” She patted the back of Dylan’s hand, her tone dripping with affection. “He and Stella stayed up all night picking out the most gorgeous custom suit for him.” “He really wants to show it off on the big day.” My fingers curled tightly into my palms. Stella could not spare ten minutes of her day to help me select my wedding tuxedo. But she was perfectly happy to stay up all night styling a bespoke suit for him. Since there was not going to be a wedding anyway, what did it matter who stood at the altar? I did not argue. I just gave a quiet nod. “Sure.” I paused, then added, “My boss needs me back at the office. I am heading out.” Mrs. Davis gave a curt nod of dismissal. She did not even offer a fake pleasantry to ask me to stay for lunch. I walked out the front door, flagged another cab, and went straight to the hotel. When I told the events manager I was canceling the wedding, the color completely drained from his face. “Mr. Carter, your date is literally this Saturday.” “If you void the contracts now, we will not be able to refund the vast majority of your deposits.” I gave a firm nod. “I am well aware.” “Keep whatever cancellation fees you need.” He looked at me standing alone at the reception desk, choosing to swallow whatever questions he had. After all, no sane family plans a luxury wedding where the bride and her parents refuse to show their faces, leaving the groom to handle all the grueling logistics entirely by himself. By the time I initialed the final termination clause, the sky outside had turned pitch black. I handed the luxury pen back to the manager and walked through the revolving glass doors. My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a notification from the second hand marketplace app. [Hello! Is this tuxedo still available? I would like to purchase it immediately.] I opened the app. The buyer had already wired the full asking price. A few seconds later, a long paragraph popped up in the chat. [I am so sorry if this is overly personal.] [My fiancé and I have been together for three years, and we are getting married this Saturday.] [My salary is not great, so I could not afford to buy him a nice suit. We were just going to rent a cheap one.] [He kept telling me it did not matter, but I know deep down he was disappointed.] [When I saw you listed this for such an incredible price, I had to buy it. I want to give him a real surprise.] [Thank you so much.] I stood on the curb under the harsh glow of a streetlamp, reading those words over and over until a hot sting pricked the back of my eyes. The exact same three years. The exact same Saturday wedding. Someone out there was completely broke, yet still desperately trying to give the man they loved a beautiful, dignified surprise. Meanwhile, someone with an unlimited budget would rather burn thousands on vintage cars than buy her fiancé a proper suit. I typed out a quick reply. [Happy wedding day.] She instantly replied with a smiling emoji. [Thank you! Wishing you a lifetime of happiness too.] I stared at that blessing for a long time. Finally, a genuine, soft smile broke across my face. I will be. But my happiness would have absolutely nothing to do with Stella ever again. When I got back to my apartment, I pulled the tuxedo out of its heavy garment bag. The dark, luxurious fabric pooled across my bed, catching the warm amber light of my bedroom lamp. It truly was a stunning piece of tailoring. It was so beautiful that I used to genuinely believe the day I wore it to walk down the aisle toward Stella would be the absolute peak of my existence. Now, I was just incredibly grateful. Grateful that I had never tainted it by putting it on. The courier arrived twenty minutes later. I handed the pristine garment box over to him and watched the elevator doors slide shut. The moment the lock clicked into place, my apartment felt remarkably empty. I did not waste another second. I grabbed the heavy suitcase I had packed days ago, flipped the light switch, locked the front door, and walked out of the building. My Uber was already idling at the curb. The driver popped the trunk, helped me heave the luggage inside, and glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “Where to, my man, this late at night?” “The airport.”

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We were right in the middle of being intimate when my husband of ten years abruptly pulled away. “Honestly, I find this incredibly boring. You are just tedious.” The very next second, he walked straight to the guest room without looking back. When I stood outside his door, crying and begging him to open it, my son was busy pouring the warm bedtime milk I had prepared for him down the sink. “Daddy doesn’t like Mommy, so Archie doesn’t like Mommy either.” Late that night, entirely crushed by despair, the woman chose to hang herself in the study. But I am a top tier system host, born with an absolute deficit of empathy. When I took over the body, the System told me I had one wish. I pondered for a long time before speaking with icy calm. “I want to have some class.” So that very night, I did not go crying to my husband’s door again. Instead, I graced the biggest nightclub in the city with my presence. 1 The next day. Covered in a chaotic mosaic of hickeys in various shades of lipstick, I watched with great interest as Dillamond paid my bail with a face like thunder. [Ahhhhh! You stupid host, what the hell were you doing at the club last night!] [The male lead’s affection meter just dropped into the negatives! We are going to be obliterated at this rate, you jerk!] I ignored the noisy voice that had been buzzing in my head all night. Carefully, I adjusted the Burberry plaid silk scarf around my neck. I reached out and patted Dillamond’s broad, tailored shoulders. “Thanks. Whatever the fine is, I will wire you double later.” Dillamond’s spine jolted violently beneath my palm. He turned his face with great difficulty, gritting his teeth as he growled at me in a low voice. “Keep your voice down. Do you think it is glorious for Mrs. Lockwood to get caught soliciting female escorts?” I brushed it off, casually borrowing an excuse he used to give me all the time. “Nothing even happened between us.” “Stop being so paranoid.” Dillamond shook off my hand in disgust and strode ahead. “True. What could a woman like you possibly do to them anyway? You just wanted to get my attention.” A woman like me? Dillamond suddenly curled his lips into a smirk, turning back with a hint of cruel amusement. “I get it. Just because I said you were boring last night, you wanted to sneak out and learn a few tricks from other wo…” The rest of his sentence died in his throat. As his eyes swept over my entire figure, he suddenly jumped back as if stung by a hornet. He did not even bother to pick up his favorite designer sunglasses that had slipped from his face and clattered onto the pavement. He just frantically reached out, his hands trembling as he touched my waist. “Sylvia, are you insane? What did you do to yourself?” “What are these rock hard ridges on your stomach?” I shook my head and sighed to the System. “Look.” “Look at how interested he is in me now.” System: [?] [Care to repeat that? Does this look like normal romantic interest to you!] I let out a helpless, breathy laugh. Then, effortlessly, I caught Dillamond’s hands as he tried to feel further down. I pressed my long, slender knuckles against his lips, which were flushed red from agitation. I spoke with dripping indulgence. “Be good. There are too many people around, do not make a scene.” “I know you like it. Wait until we get home, and Daddy will let you take your time and look all you want.” After a burst of chaotic static in my brain, the System let out a roar of absolute despair. [What the hell are you talking about! Did the original host’s hanging cut off the oxygen to your brain too?] [And why are you acting like the dominant CEO! Dillamond is the actual male lead of this book!] I absentmindedly planted a soft kiss on the corner of Dillamond’s mouth to soothe his growing restlessness while replying to the System. “Who made the rule that there can only be one male lead? I have heard of a genre called double male leads.” Right as the System and I were deeply debating why romance novels could not have two alpha male leads, Dillamond finally snapped out of his daze and violently broke free from my grip. He frantically wiped his mouth, gagging, his eyes red as he roared at me incoherently. “Get away from me, you freak! This is disgusting. You belong in an asylum. I want a divorce!” I looked at him with profound disappointment, as if watching a street urchin throw a tantrum. “You are being entirely too unreasonable. You know I prefer my partners to have some dignity.” “I will give you some time to cool off.” Then I slipped into his Porsche parked by the curb. Without a shred of hesitation, I slammed the gas pedal to the floor. The System instantly started screaming in my head again. [Who is the one that needs to cool off!] [Did you not see the male lead looking like he was about to wet himself? How are you supposed to win his heart now that you are acting like a macho man!] [Turn the car around right now and apologize to him sincerely! Tell him you will never go to a nightclub again!] Just as the System’s pitch reached a piercing high C, a sudden notification chimed. [Book’s Abuse Satisfaction Value +20] 2 The System’s screaming abruptly changed its tune. [Wait, what?] I curled the corners of my lips into a faint smile. “I am the main character too, am I not?” “I am perfectly capable of abusing others to make myself feel good.” I left Dillamond stranded on the sidewalk and drove back to the Lockwood estate with zero guilt. As I walked through the door, the usually quiet house was echoing with sharp, piercing wails. My eight year old son, Archie, was currently burying his face in my mother in law’s chest, crying as if his heart had been shattered. “I do not care, I want Auntie Lily to be my mommy!” “Mommy is mean and bad. She never takes me to play with other kids like Auntie Lily does. Archie hates the mommy we have now.” His pale little face, which looked exactly like a miniature version of Dillamond, was completely red from sobbing. My mother in law, her heart aching, kept wiping the teardrops from his cheeks. “Do not cry, my sweet boy. Grandma will tell Daddy to bring Auntie Lily home to marry him, okay?” As she coaxed him, her own anger flared up. “If Dillamond had not been so young and blind back then, insisting on marrying Sylvia, there is no way she could have scammed her way into our family.” “Look at Lily. She is so much better. Young, beautiful, and a PhD graduate. She would be a million times better at raising a child than this useless housewife.” “When Dillamond gets back, I am going to convince them to divorce immediately!” Archie did not understand the heavy words, he just kept hiccuping. “Thank you, Grandma. Archie loves Grandma the most.” The System was pacing anxiously in my head. [Why is this little brat turning on you? The original host used to love him more than her own eyes.] [Host, hurry up and butter up this vicious mother in law. If the male lead really marries the side character, we are totally screwed!] I slightly narrowed my long, sharp eyes, shooting a dangerous glare at the crying child. I reached out with a long arm, hauling him into my embrace by his collar, and warned him in a low, husky voice. “You spineless little thing. How can a son of Sylvia shed tears so easily?” Seeing me, the deep disgust on my mother in law’s face froze into shock. “Sylvia, what the hell are you wearing? Are you trying to get yourself killed looking like some androgynous freak?” “Children do not lie. If you are unlikable, do not take your anger out on Archie!” I ignored her completely, offering my son a merciful promise instead. “By the end of this year at the latest, I will give you a few younger brothers to keep you company.” Archie froze for a few seconds. Then, terrified tears instantly flooded his eyes again. “Archie does not want brothers!” “Mommy promised Archie would be Mommy and Daddy’s only favorite child!” He looked toward his usually doting grandmother out of habit, begging for help. But upon hearing the words younger brothers, my mother in law was practically ecstatic. She brushed Archie off with a half hearted pat. “Archie, you are still too young. When you grow up, you will understand the benefits of having brothers.” “When your little brothers are born, you have to let them have their way. You need to learn how to share and never bully them.” Archie’s little face went deathly pale, and he started wailing even louder. My expression gradually turned freezing cold. I raised my hand and slammed it viciously onto the solid mahogany coffee table. “Did you not just say you wanted lots of kids to play with you? Now that I am actually going to give you brothers, why are you throwing a fit?” “Crying constantly, changing your mind every five seconds. You do not have my last name, and you do not even look like me. Why should I waste my time raising a useless child like you?” “Shed one more tear, and you will stand in the corner of the study for half an hour.” Archie stared at me in pure disbelief, then opened his mouth and howled as if his lungs were tearing apart. “Mommy is mean! Bad Mommy, ugly Mommy! Get out of my house! I want Auntie Lily to be my mommy!” I stood right where I was, my eyes as cold as if I were training a disobedient dog. “Are you done crying?” “You can sleep on the floor of the study tonight.” I grabbed the wrist of my mother in law, who was trying to rush forward to comfort him, pinning it down hard. “Do not bother playing the saint. If you love serving a prince so much, go give birth to one yourself.” “Your husband was a very generous man in his youth. If you look hard enough, you might even find a few of his illegitimate kids to bring home.” 3 I dropped like a nuclear bomb, equally traumatizing everyone in the room. The System was already jumping up and down in sheer panic inside my brain. [It is over! Host, your life is totally over!] [Great, just great. You managed to deeply offend the two people the male lead cares about the most in one breath. Let’s just pack up our bags and hit the reset button.] I remained completely unbothered. I grabbed Archie by the collar and marched him all the way into the study. I forced him to stand right in front of the noose that was still firmly bolted to the ceiling. Only then did I raise my eyes, looking at that thick hemp rope, which still bore faint, dark red stains. “Last night, you poured out the bedtime milk I warmed for you, did you not? You said you only wanted to eat things made by Auntie Lily.” Archie stiffened his neck, shivering violently in fear, yet stubbornly refusing to look at me. I lowered my head, looking at him with a sliver of genuine pity. “As you wish.” “The love you so deeply despised will never be given to you again.” “Stand here and think about it. Consider it our final goodbye.” Archie did not get the comfort he imagined. He had no idea why his mother had suddenly become so bizarre and icy. Looking utterly pathetic, he tentatively reached out, trying to hug my leg. “Mommy, Archie knows he was wrong.” I remained entirely impassive. “You already did the thing you are sorry for, so keep your apologies to yourself.” He was sorely mistaken if he thought I would act like that pitiful woman. She would have melted into a puddle of forgiveness at the first sign of a half hearted apology. Not me. Ignoring the teary eyed child, I walked into the master bedroom and dove into the soft, luxurious mattress. In the dead of night, someone pounded urgently on my door. “Sylvia! Archie is having febrile seizures from a high fever! Get up right now and take him to the hospital!” It took me a long moment to process the noise before I slowly sat up. My hands patted around the nightstand. I easily pulled out a brand new pair of industrial earplugs. Dillamond used to wear these all the time. Because he detested the sound of my light breathing and the faint rustle of my pajamas when I slept. Once I put them in. Archie’s crying and the chaotic panic of the Lockwood household instantly vanished. They worked wonderfully. Forgive everything before you sleep, hold all grudges when you wake up. When I opened my eyes again, I felt incredibly refreshed. But it seemed someone else was the one holding a grudge. I was gently biting off a strand of pasta, enjoying my morning intermittent fasting routine. Suddenly, Dillamond’s cold, impatient voice echoed from the top of the stairs. “Lily is returning from abroad today. Give me the car keys, I am picking her up from the airport.” I paused my chewing. “Archie was hospitalized last night. He relies on Lily the most. From today onward, I am having Lily move in to keep him company.” “Sylvia, do not say I did not warn you. The crazier you act, the faster whatever feelings I have left for you will disappear.” “That girl is not like you. I sponsored her education, and she just graduated and entered the real world. If you dare to use your disgusting, underhanded tricks on her…” He tapped his fingers lightly against the stair railing, looking down at me with ruthless indifference. “I would not mind letting her become Archie’s actual mother.” I remained silent, meeting his gaze. The System was already losing its mind. [Dead dead dead! We have officially entered Nightmare Mode!] [Who told you to play crazy and ruin all your relationships! You stupid host, are you trying to destroy me?] The moment Dillamond turned his back to leave. I finally stood up, staring at him without blinking. “I think, between us, we should at least have a fair competition.” Dillamond looked as if he had just heard the funniest joke in the world. A mocking sneer touched his lips. “You? You think you can compete with Lily?” “Stop making a scene, Sylvia. Just sit quietly in your position as Mrs. Lockwood. Is it not better to just take the money and forget about love?” “This is the biggest concession I am willing to make, and it is only because you gave birth to Archie.” I watched Dillamond’s arrogant, aloof silhouette. I shook my head in regret. Who said I was competing with Lily for the title of Mrs. Lockwood? I picked up the phone from the table, which had been buzzing continuously from last night all the way to this morning. Slowly and methodically, I replied to Lily’s message. [Okay, I accept your confession.]

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1 Before the wedding, Sebastian sent an Excel sheet with three hundred and sixty-five rows of Wife Code of Conduct. Rule 12 banned male likes on Instagram. Rule 87 limited weight fluctuation to two pounds. Rule 203 required chore photos by 10:00 PM daily. I thought it was his quirky way of building a life. After marriage, he turned it into an app scoring me daily. Below ninety meant his calm remark, “I am not punishing you, I am helping you improve.” Seven months pregnant, I scored eighty-seven for a three-minute delay to a prenatal appointment that “disrupted the family’s time management schedule.” He canceled my clinic ride. I took a cab, hemorrhaged en route, and heard a nurse scream, “We lost her blood pressure!” When I woke, his email glowed with the same spreadsheet and a voice memo: “Babe, here’s our marriage blueprint. Take a look.” I replied, “I read it,” and blocked him permanently. “Jennifer, I will only tolerate this childish ghosting game once.” A faint shadow fell over my head. I didn’t bother looking up, keeping my eyes fixed on my computer monitor. A freshly printed piece of standard printer paper was slapped hard next to my keyboard, completely covering the marketing proposal I was editing. “This is your preliminary performance review for the month. Your current score is negative five.” Sebastian pulled out the chair opposite my desk and sat down, crossing his legs in a posture of complete leisure. “Because you refused to reply to my voice memo last night and unilaterally cut off our communication channels, you violated Rule 42: Never let a conflict last overnight.” His voice was completely flat. He sounded like a heartless judge reading a verdict. A few colleagues in the open office space were already sneaking glances our way. I slid the printed paper right back to him. “Mr. Wright, we are on the clock. Please remove your personal garbage from my desk.” Sebastian frowned, clearly displeased with my strictly professional attitude. “Jennifer, do not bring your emotional baggage into the corporate environment.” He tapped his knuckles against the desk. “I spent an entire week tailoring those three hundred and sixty-five rules specifically for you.” “I am doing this to help you strip away your laziness. I am molding you into a woman worthy of being the lady of the Wright household.” I stared at his arrogant, self-righteous face, feeling my stomach violently churn. The perfect lady of the house. In my past life, I actually swallowed that toxic gaslighting. To reach that perfect score of one hundred, I wound myself up like a tight clock every single day. Once, I was running a hundred-and-two-degree fever and passed out on the living room sofa. I missed the 10:00 PM “chore completion photo check-in.” Sebastian remotely changed the passcode to our smart lock while I was asleep. I woke up confused and locked out. I froze in the winter hallway for half the night. When he finally opened the door the next morning, he just handed me a template for an apology letter. He told me, “If you cannot manage basic time management, you do not deserve to walk through this door. Go write a three-thousand-word reflection essay. Make sure your handwriting is perfectly neat.” That bone-piercing cold was something I remembered vividly right up to the moment I died. “I do not need to be tailored by you.” I hit the save shortcut and closed my proposal. “What kind of attitude is that?” Sebastian’s face finally darkened. “You threw a tantrum and blocked me last night, and I let it slide. I took the initiative to come see you today. How long are you going to keep throwing this fit?” “I am not throwing a fit. I do not accept your spreadsheet, and I do not accept you.” My phone began to vibrate on the desk. The caller ID flashed “Mrs. Wright.” Sebastian caught a glimpse of the screen and a cold, arrogant smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Answer it. Let us hear what my mother has to say.” I swiped to answer. I didn’t put it on speaker, but Mrs. Wright’s shrill voice was piercing enough to bleed through the earpiece. “Jennifer, you think you are so tough now, do you? You actually dared to block my son?” “Mrs. Wright, we are no longer a good fit.” “What do you mean, no longer a good fit? A girl from an ordinary background like yours should be thanking her lucky stars that the Wright family even looked in your direction.” The voice on the other end grew even more venomous. “Sebastian is setting rules for you to train you properly. Look at yourself. You are a total workaholic who does not even know how to cook a decent meal. How are you supposed to serve my son in the future?” “Why on earth would I serve your son?” “Because that three-million-dollar penthouse you two are moving into was secured by Sebastian’s down payment!” Mrs. Wright let out a sharp sneer. “If you still want to marry into this family, you will come over to my house tonight and recite all three hundred of those rules to my face. If you get a single word wrong, you will not be getting any dinner.” I hung up the phone right in her face. Sebastian looked at me, his eyes brimming with a sickening, high-and-mighty sense of pity. “You heard her. My mother is highly dissatisfied with your current state.” “That sounds like a personal problem for her.” “Jennifer.” He lowered his voice, lacing it with an obvious warning. “Do not mistake my indulgence for a free pass to act however you want.” Indulgence? Treating a human being like a show dog to be graded and trained. He actually called that indulgence. “Sebastian, you can keep that spreadsheet and memorize it yourself.” I stood up, grabbing my mug to head to the breakroom. He reached out and grabbed my wrist with a crushing grip. “If you insist on using these pathetic tactics to get my attention, I will strip you of the Southside Resort project.” I stopped in my tracks. The Southside project was my absolute baby. I had pulled endless all-nighters for three months and done countless site visits to secure that core campaign. “You have no right to do that. I am the lead director on that project.” “I am your direct supervisor.” He released my wrist and casually adjusted his cuffs. “Since you cannot even learn the basic duties of a wife, you certainly lack the energy to manage a project of this magnitude.” He stood up, towering over me. “I am giving you one day to reflect on your behavior. Email an apology letter to my inbox, and I might consider giving the project back to you.” … The next morning, the moment I scanned my badge and walked into the department conference room, I noticed my seat was taken. A girl with a short bob haircut, wearing a casual designer hoodie, was spinning in my chair. Daisy. Sebastian’s childhood best friend. She had been parachuted into our department three days ago as an “intern.” She was the classic “guy’s girl” he was always raving about. “Morning, future wifey.” Daisy spun a pen between her fingers, smiling at me with sickening sweetness. “Seb said you’ve been a little emotionally unstable lately, and that you haven’t even memorized your pregnancy prep spreadsheet yet. So, I’ll be taking the Southside project off your plate.” She heavily emphasized the words “future wifey” with a condescending lilt. The other colleagues in the room immediately buried their heads in their documents. Nobody dared to make a sound. I walked straight up to her and pointed at the chair. “That is my seat. Get up.” Daisy pouted, staying perfectly glued to the spot. Instead, she looked past me toward Sebastian, who had just walked into the room. “Seb, look at her. Her temper is still so explosive. I’m just trying to be a good friend and lighten her workload, but she is completely ungrateful.” Sebastian walked to the head of the table and sat down, knocking his knuckles against the wood. “Jennifer, stop being unreasonable in the office. Daisy taking over the project was my executive decision.” “I poured my blood and sweat into this. Why are you handing it over to an intern who cannot even read basic architectural blueprints?” I glared at Sebastian, forcing down the fiery rage burning in my chest. “Because your priorities should not be focused on meaningless corporate climbing.” Sebastian clicked a button, and the projector flared to life. My personal performance review spreadsheet was plastered across the massive screen. The score was highlighted in bright, glaring red. “Excel Rule 45: A wife’s energy must not be scattered on meaningless socializing or excessive career ambitions. Her core focus must be building the family.” He was actually displaying this psychotic document in front of the entire department. “Look at your performance over the past few days. Consecutive overtime, highly irregular meals. With your current physical state, how are you supposed to breed a healthy next generation for the Wright family?” The conference room was so dead silent you could hear a pin drop. Daisy let out a loud, mocking giggle. “Seb, your standards for her are way too high. But honestly, Jennifer, Seb is just looking out for you. Don’t bite the hand that feeds you.” I stared at the utterly absurd clauses glowing on the projector screen. In my past life, this exact scenario played out in this exact room. Back then, terrified of starting a public fight with him, I swallowed my humiliation and handed the project over. And the result? Daisy used my flawless proposal to skyrocket up the corporate ladder, earning rapid promotions and massive bonuses. Meanwhile, I spent my pregnancy with zero personal income and zero social life, completely crushed under Sebastian’s control. “Sebastian, if your brain is rotting, I suggest you seek medical help.” I looked at him with ice in my veins. “Give me back what is mine, or I have absolutely no problem escalating this directly to the CEO’s office.” Sebastian’s eyes instantly turned frigid. “Escalate to the CEO?” He looked at me like I had just told a hilarious joke. “Why don’t you open your employee portal right now and see if you even have the security clearance to email the executive floor?” I instantly pulled out my phone and logged into the company intranet. My account status read: Suspended. “You privately revoked my access?” “It is called workplace correction.” Sebastian leaned back in his leather chair, steepling his fingers together. “You disobeyed a direct order from a superior and displayed a hostile attitude. As your director, I have the full authority to place you on administrative leave for reflection.” Daisy chimed in, eagerly adding fuel to the fire. “Come on, Jennifer, just swallow your pride and apologize. Seb stayed up until midnight yesterday just to draft that new spreadsheet for you. If you keep acting like a psycho, nobody is going to put up with you.” I looked at the two of them. They were truly a match made in hell, and I found the entire situation incredibly laughable. “Since I am suspended, that means I do not need to be at work, correct?” Sebastian assumed I was finally backing down. His expression softened slightly. “I added a new rule, Rule 366: Talking back to your husband results in a one-month project suspension. You can go home and reflect now.” “Remember to clock in your daily chore progress photos on time. If your score drops below a ninety, the wedding will be postponed.” I nodded slowly, turning on my heel and walking straight toward the conference room doors. “There is no need to postpone it.” I stopped at the threshold and looked back over my shoulder. “The wedding is completely canceled. You can give your spreadsheet to someone desperate enough to memorize it.” Sebastian’s brow instantly furrowed, but before he could speak, the sound of measured footsteps echoed down the hallway. We both froze and turned toward the sound. A man in a sleek, tailored black trench coat was walking slowly toward us, flanked by two towering bodyguards in dark suits. The man was tall and striking, his features sharp and strikingly cold. Behind his gold-rimmed glasses, his eyes radiated an aura of absolute, unapproachable frost. Gabriel Sinclair. The youngest, most legendary cardiothoracic surgeon at Trinity Medical Center. And also the doctor who, in my past life, fought like hell to save me on the operating table. The man who gripped my blood-soaked hand with red, devastated eyes when my heart finally stopped. Sebastian obviously had no idea who Gabriel was. He eyed the newcomer with extreme impatience. “Who the hell are you? This is a private corporate floor. Get out.” Gabriel completely ignored Sebastian. He walked straight past him and stopped right in front of me. His gaze swept over my face. There was a deep, restrained emotion in his eyes that I could not quite read. “Ms. Jennifer, we meet again.” He finally turned to face Sebastian. His voice was perfectly level, yet laced with a chilling cruelty that made the hairs on my arms stand up. “I am Dr. Gabriel Sinclair from Trinity Medical Center. I am the attending physician for Ms. Jennifer’s mother.” Sebastian was taken aback for a second, but then he let out a harsh sneer. “Just a damn doctor, and you think you can stick your nose in my business? Do you want me to make one phone call and get your license revoked?” Gabriel’s lips curved upward into an incredibly icy smile. “Her mother’s medical expenses will be entirely billed to the Sinclair family account.” He raised a single finger. One of the bodyguards immediately stepped forward, handing him a sleek, matte-black business card. Gabriel casually tossed the card directly at Sebastian’s chest. It fluttered off his suit jacket and landed softly on the floor. “As for you.” Gabriel didn’t even bother looking at the dropped card. “Stay the hell out of my hospital. And while you are at it, tell your executives that all funding from the Sinclair Consortium is officially terminated as of today.” … After leaving the corporate building, I drove straight back to my apartment. This was the “three-million-dollar penthouse” Sebastian was always bragging about. Yes, he had paid the initial down payment. But the subsequent seven hundred thousand dollars spent on custom renovations, fully integrated smart appliances, and the imported Italian leather sofas were paid entirely out of my own pocket, draining five years of my hard-earned savings. In my past life, after I died, Daisy had lounged on that exact Italian sofa while flirting with Sebastian. When I reached the front door, I habitually punched in my passcode. “Beep. Incorrect passcode.” The robotic female voice echoed in the quiet hallway. I paused, assuming I had mistyped, and re-entered my birthday. Incorrect again. My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a text from Sebastian. “I changed the lock passcode. It is now Daisy’s birthday.” “This is a minor punishment for publicly disrespecting me in the conference room today. Rule 88 states: A wife must memorize the important personal details of her husband’s close friends and family.” “Stand out in the hallway for thirty minutes and think long and hard about what you did wrong. Once you figure it out, you can ask me for the passcode.” I read the text on the screen and actually let out a genuine laugh. Without a single second of hesitation, I googled a local locksmith and dialed the number. The technician arrived incredibly fast. Twenty minutes later, the screeching sound of a heavy-duty power drill echoed through the corridor. Just as the lock cylinder was about to give way, the elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Sebastian and Daisy walked out, shoulder to shoulder. Seeing the locksmith actively drilling into the door, Sebastian’s face turned a violent shade of purple. “Jennifer, have you completely lost your mind!” He sprinted forward and violently shoved the locksmith out of the way. “What the hell are you doing? Who gave you permission to break into my house?” “Your house?” I glared at him with pure ice. “Every single piece of furniture and appliance inside these walls was bought with my money. What gave you the right to lock me out?” Daisy immediately shrank behind Sebastian’s back, clutching her pearl necklace like a frightened little bird. “Jennifer, please don’t be so aggressive. Seb was just playing a harmless little joke on you. He just wanted to test your memory.” “Who the hell are you that I need to memorize your birthday?” I fired back without a shred of mercy. Daisy’s eyes instantly welled with dramatic tears as she gripped Sebastian’s sleeve. “Seb, look at how she is treating me.” Sebastian shielded Daisy with his body, looking down his nose at me with utter disgust. “Jennifer, look at the way you are behaving. You look like a hysterical street vendor!” “Daisy was kind enough to take over your heavy workload, and not only are you ungrateful, you are verbally abusing her. And now you are hiring thugs to drill out my locks?” The elevator dinged a second time. Mrs. Wright stormed out in her designer heels, radiating toxic energy. She was clutching a thick stack of legal documents in her hand. “Sebastian, I told you this woman was an ungrateful gold-digger, but you insisted on protecting her!” Mrs. Wright marched right up to me and shoved the documents directly into my face. “Look at this. It is a prenuptial agreement.” “Our family paid the down payment for this property. You do not own a single square inch of it. Even if you paid for the renovations, consider that your entry fee for marrying my son.” “Sign the papers. From now on, this house belongs solely to Sebastian. Do not even dream of getting your name on the deed.” I stared at the thick stack of notarized papers. The memories of my past life wrapped around my throat like a venomous snake. It had been pouring rain that day. I came home ten minutes late because the line at the grocery store was long. Sebastian and his mother locked the door on me. Through the wood, Mrs. Wright had sneered, “Rules are rules. If you have no concept of time, you can stand in the rain until your head clears.” I stood in the freezing downpour for two hours until a pool of blood washed down my legs. My first child died right there on the welcome mat. And when Sebastian finally opened the door, he just frowned at the mess and said, “You stained the porch. That is a twenty-point deduction.” I took a deep, shaky breath, dragging my consciousness back to the present. “Sir,” I said, looking at the locksmith. “Keep drilling. I will pay you double.” The technician hesitated for a split second, but money speaks loudly. He raised his drill again. “You ungrateful little brat!” Mrs. Wright raised her hand, aiming a vicious slap right at my cheek. I caught her wrist in mid-air and violently shoved her arm away. “Keep the damn house. You can pay the mortgage yourselves. As for everything inside, I am hiring a demolition crew to smash it all to pieces by tonight.” I turned my gaze to Sebastian. “The wedding is off.” Hearing my words, Sebastian did not look angry. Instead, he laughed. He adjusted his silk tie, looking at me like I was a toddler throwing a tantrum in a toy aisle. “Jennifer, do you really think you can just throw around words like ‘canceling the wedding’ and I will actually take you seriously?” He took a menacing step forward, trying to suffocate me with his presence. “Did you conveniently forget that your mother is currently lying in a VIP suite at Trinity Medical Center?” My heart dropped like a stone. “What are you implying?” Sebastian let out a cruel, triumphant sneer. “That VIP suite costs fifteen hundred dollars a day. Not to mention the imported targeted therapy drugs she is pumped full of every morning.” “Every single one of those medical channels was secured through my personal connections.” He reached out and flicked an imaginary speck of dust off my collar. “If you actually try to break off this engagement right now, I guarantee you, by tomorrow morning, your mother will be tossed out of that hospital for unpaid bills.” “And it will not stop there. Not a single private clinic in this entire city will dare to take her in.” Mrs. Wright cackled with wicked delight. “Exactly. Without the Wright family, your mother will not even have a clean bed to die in. And you dare to act tough in front of us?” Daisy eagerly stepped forward, hooking her arm through Sebastian’s in a sickeningly sweet display. “Jennifer, just stop being so stubborn. Seb is only doing this for your mother’s sake. Just apologize to him, sign the prenup, and we can all go back to being one big happy family.” I clenched my fists so tightly my manicured nails dug bloody half-moons into my palms. The suffocating helplessness of my past life flooded my veins. This was exactly how he operated. He always found the perfect leverage to force my head down, forcing me to compromise until I became that soulless puppet governed by his spreadsheet. “What is wrong? Cat got your tongue?” Sebastian stared down at me like a god observing an insect, holding out the prenup once more. “Kneel.” He spat the word out with terrifying calmness. “Sign the agreement, and then apologize to Daisy for scaring her with this locksmith stunt. Do that, and I will make sure your mother’s medication continues.” He was absolutely intoxicated by this power trip. He thrived on the high of pushing me to the absolute brink, watching me swallow my pride to survive. The air in the hallway felt completely depleted. Every breath I took felt like crushed glass in my lungs. Just as the suffocating stalemate reached its breaking point, a voice echoed from the corner of the corridor. It was cold, deep, and dripping with an unquestionable, terrifying authority. “I hear someone is trying to cut off my patient’s medication.”

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1 On our fifth wedding anniversary, my husband abandoned me on a rain-drenched street corner in the middle of a torrential downpour. He had more important things to do, like watching the anniversary fireworks with his first love. When I called to confront him, his voice carried nothing but cold irritation. Instead of an apology, he sent me a link to a ninety-nine-cent trial service. “Glinda, get a grip on reality,” his text read. “If my parents hadn’t insisted on marrying a quiet, easily managed doormat, do you honestly think a girl with a fishmonger father would ever set foot in the Goldblum estate?” “If you’re so lonely, here is a ninety-nine-cent virtual boyfriend. You can talk to him all month.” “I bought this to keep you entertained. Next time you want to cry, do it to him. Stop ruining my night with Gemma!” Behind the screen, I could picture his sneer, discarding me like a stray dog begging for scraps. But I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I just quietly tapped the link. After adding the contact on the app, I typed with numb fingers: “What does a ninety-nine-cent monthly subscription actually get me?” I expected automated sympathy or cheap platitudes. Instead, the reply came instantly, presenting a stark, ice-cold menu: [99¢ Premium Service Package (Promo Code: First Month Free)] [1. Assist client in liquidating and transferring illicit pre-marital assets, ensuring the cheating husband is left penniless.] [2. Systematically dismantle the mistress’s reputation, leaving her completely blacklisted in high society.] [3. Provide a secure offshore tax haven to guarantee your legal claim to the entire Goldblum fortune.] “Who… who are you?” The freezing wind bit into my cheeks, but my eyes remained glued to the screen. My fingers trembled over the keypad. A random virtual chatbot found on a discount app? How could he make such absurd promises of destroying the city’s newest tech tycoon and transferring Goldblum assets? The other side didn’t answer. Three seconds later, an image popped up. It was a high-resolution wire transfer slip. A transaction from two weeks ago, routed through an offshore account. The sender was my husband, Garrick Goldblum. The recipient was an offshore real estate agency. The memo line read: [Gift for my beloved wife, Gemma Lin. Final payment for the Malibu Cove Villa.] “Beloved wife.” A dry laugh escaped my throat. I had given up my graduate studies for this man. I had lived on instant ramen for a year, pulling all-nighters to sketch designs that secured his company’s first investments. Now that Goldblum Holdings was a multi-million-dollar empire, he was using our hard-earned money to buy a beachside estate for his childhood sweetheart, calling her his “beloved wife.” The cold numbers on the screen woke me up from a five-year dream. [Take your time to think. Do not act rashly until you have established your leverage.] That was the last message. The chat fell silent. I didn’t reply. I simply turned around and walked back to the mansion that supposedly belonged to Garrick and me. The next morning. The click of the electronic lock echoed from downstairs. Garrick walked in, his designer jacket draped over Gemma’s shoulders. She was clinging to his arm, looking fragile and small. When she spotted me sitting on the living room sofa, she shrank back with practiced vulnerability. “Garrick… is Glinda mad at me? I’m so sorry. The fireworks last night were just so beautiful, and I got a bit tipsy. I didn’t mean to drag you away from her…” “Why would she be mad? She doesn’t have the right to be,” Garrick cut her off, walking over to the sofa. He looked down at me, his voice sharp with command. “Glinda, Gemma is pregnant. The doctor said she’s extremely delicate and needs absolute peace. The master bedroom gets the best sunlight, so pack up your things today. You’ll be moving to the maid’s quarters on the first floor.” I gripped the armrest of the sofa. Pregnant? He truly didn’t care about appearances anymore. If this had been yesterday, I would have thrown a tantrum, smashing the glass on the coffee table. But now, all I could see was the eighty-million-dollar wire transfer. I stood up. “Fine. I’ll move.” Garrick blinked, visibly caught off guard. A flicker of irritation crossed his face. “What kind of mind game is this?” he sneered. “Don’t think playing the quiet victim will make me feel guilty. Glinda, remember who you are. Without me, a fishmonger’s daughter is nothing in this city. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll make sure Gemma is comfortable!” I ignored him and walked into the master bedroom. I pulled out my suitcases and packed my clothes, books, and our wedding memorabilia. No tears. No drama. While they were downstairs eating breakfast, I pulled out a micro-camera I had bought at a convenience store the night before. Stepping onto a chair, I carefully hid it inside the smoke detector on the ceiling. I linked it to my phone, securing the live feed in an encrypted cloud drive. [Camera is live,] I texted the mysterious number. The response was prompt: [Patience. Let them expose themselves. Gather every piece of evidence showing him stripping marital assets. Remember, a hunter must play dead before drawing the net.] I locked my phone and dragged my bags down to the tiny service room. On the nightstand lay my hand-drawn drafts for Goldblum Holdings’ upcoming product line. I stared at them for a second, then tossed them straight into the trash. From this moment on, the Glinda who loved Garrick was dead. 2 On my third day in the service room, Garrick’s mother, Eleanor, arrived. She immediately pinched her nose as she entered the house. “Eleanor, what a lovely surprise! Please, sit down,” Gemma chimed, scurrying over with a freshly sliced fruit platter. “Oh, my sweet girl, don’t strain yourself!” Eleanor fussed, guiding Gemma to the sofa before turning a glaring eye toward me as I poured water in the corner. “Some useless hens can’t even lay an egg, yet they expect my pregnant daughter-in-law to wait on them?” “Glinda, is this how your dirty fishmonger father raised you? Dirt remains dirt, no matter how much gold you wrap it in!” I squeezed the glass in my hand, staring back calmly. “I’m finalizing the blueprints for next week’s corporate bid. I don’t have time for this.” “Oh, Eleanor, don’t be angry with Glinda,” Gemma sighed, rubbing her eyes with mock sadness. “She stays up all night drawing. It’s so hard on her. I just wanted to help look at her sketches, but I must have clumsy hands…” The front door swung open, and Garrick stepped inside. Seeing Gemma’s teary eyes, he rushed over and pulled her into his arms. “What happened? Who upset you?” “No one… I was just being careless…” Gemma sniffled against his chest. Eleanor scoffed. “Who else could it be but that ungrateful stray you took in? Gemma was only trying to help, and she gets treated like garbage!” “Garrick, I’m telling you right now, Goldblum’s reputation cannot be dragged down by a low-class street rat. Take her cards and car keys. Every single one.” Garrick frowned, walking over to me with an outstretched palm. “Hand them over.” That included the joint account card he had given me on our wedding day, which actually held my salary from working at his company. I pulled the card and the car keys from my pocket and tossed them onto the table. Garrick’s gaze drifted to the glowing computer monitor behind me. It showed the core design sketches I had spent three months perfecting for the upcoming international luxury bid. “Not bad,” Garrick muttered, turning to Gemma. “Gemma, aren’t you attending the anniversary gala as our chief designer next week? This is perfect. We’ll put your name on these blueprints. It’ll give you the perfect spotlight in front of the board.” I looked up, my eyes locking onto his. I had tolerated the financial abuse and the humiliation of moving into the service room, but now he wanted to steal three months of my sweat and blood to prop up his mistress? “That is my design!” I lunged for the computer to pull the external hard drive. “Garrick, don’t you dare!” “Get off!” Garrick shoved me back hard. I lost my balance, my forehead striking the sharp corner of the desk. A sharp sting followed, and warm blood began to trickle down my face, dripping onto the hardwood floor. I held my bleeding forehead, staring at him. Garrick flinched slightly at the sight of the blood, taking a half-step back, but he quickly recovered his cold composure. “Glinda, let’s get one thing straight. Everything you eat, drink, and wear comes from my pocket. Even your miserable life is funded by me!” “You work in my company, using my resources. Anything you draw belongs to Goldblum Holdings. Consider it paid for. Don’t push your luck.” With a swift yank, he pulled the USB drive from the port, wrapped his arm around Gemma’s waist, and headed for the door. “Come on, Gemma. Let’s go pick out your gown for the gala. We shouldn’t let this mess ruin our day.” Over Garrick’s shoulder, Gemma looked back at me, her lips curling into a triumphant smirk. The house fell dead silent. I leaned against the wall, letting the blood drip slow and heavy onto the floor. My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was the mystery contact: [Does it hurt?] [Let them steal it. It’s a gold-plated death warrant.] I wiped the blood from my brow with the back of my hand. What Garrick didn’t know was that I had embedded custom timestamps and hidden digital watermarks deep within the source code. I opened the bottom drawer and pulled out a backup drive. Let them take it. I wasn’t just going to make them spit it back out. I was going to destroy them. 3 A week later, the Goldblum Group hosted its fifth-anniversary gala and new product launch. The grand ballroom of the Regent Hotel was packed with the city’s elite. Tonight, Garrick was set to unveil the design under Gemma’s name and secure billions in venture capital. I had no gown. Eleanor had ordered the maids to throw all my clothes into the incinerator. Instead, she had tossed a catering uniform at me that afternoon. “If you still want a roof over your head, you’ll work the floor tonight. Keep your head down, do your job, and keep your mouth shut.” I stood near the edge of the ballroom, dressed in a cheap vest and slacks, holding a tray of champagne. In the center of the room, Garrick stood with Gemma, who wore the Goldblum family heirloom, a rare pink diamond necklace known as the Heart of the Ocean. They were bathed in the adoring gaze of the crowd. “Thank you all for coming,” Garrick announced, raising his glass to Gemma. “Tonight is not only a celebration of our company’s journey, but also the debut of our brilliant chief designer, Gemma Lin. She is not only incredibly talented, but she is also carrying the future of the Goldblum legacy…” The crowd erupted into applause. I watched them silently. “Oh look, isn’t that the current Mrs. Goldblum?” a group of socialites whispered, walking over to my corner with their wine glasses. “Please, she’s the catering maid now. A street rat can wear designer shoes, but she’ll always smell like the fish market.” “Exactly. Can’t even keep her husband, lost her career, and now she’s serving drinks to the woman who replaced her. How pathetic.” “If I were her, I’d have jumped off a bridge by now. Some people have no dignity.” I ignored the venom, standing perfectly still. The phone in my pocket vibrated twice. [Showtime. I’m in position.] My palms grew sweaty. I was ready. Just then, Gemma detached herself from the crowd and glided toward me, holding a glass of red wine. “Glinda,” she said, her voice dripping with sweet poison, loud enough for those nearby to hear. “You shouldn’t be working like this. Garrick was just angry. Please, go rest. Seeing you like this breaks my heart…” She reached out to grab my arm. Before her hand even made contact, she twisted her wrist, splashed the dark wine all over her white designer gown, and threw herself backward onto the floor with a dramatic gasp. “Ah! My baby! Glinda, why would you push me? If you hate me, take it out on me, but please don’t hurt my child!” She clutched her stomach, whimpering on the carpet. Instantly, a crowd gathered. “Gemma!” Garrick pushed through the onlookers, his face pale as he scooped her into his arms. He stood up, spun around, and delivered a brutal slap across my face. The force of the blow spun my head to the side, the sharp metallic taste of blood filling my mouth. “Glinda! You psycho!” Garrick roared. “If anything happens to Gemma or the baby, I will personally destroy you!” The guests began to murmur in disgust. “How malicious! Pushing a pregnant woman?” “That classless woman is just consumed by jealousy.” “Garrick should have divorced her years ago!” I wiped the blood from my lip with my thumb. My hand slipped into my pocket, gripping the backup USB. “I didn’t push her,” I said, looking Garrick dead in the eye. “You dare lie!” Eleanor pushed through the crowd, pointing a manicured finger at me. “If you didn’t push her, did she trip herself? Security! Hold this crazy bitch down!” 4 Two heavy-set security guards grabbed my shoulders, pinning my arms behind my back. “Let go of me!” I kept my spine straight, looking directly at Garrick. “There are security cameras everywhere. Pull up the feed, and let’s see who the real actress is.” “The cameras are undergoing maintenance tonight!” Eleanor spat. Of course they were. It was a setup designed to ruin me publicly. “Garrick…” Gemma whimpered, clutching her chest. “My ring! Garrick, the diamond! The pink diamond is gone!” Gasps rippled through the ballroom. “What?!” Eleanor shrieked. “It was right on your neck a second ago! You were the only one near her, Glinda! You thieving little rat, you stole our family heirloom!” Eleanor lunged forward, clawing at my catering vest. Pinned by the guards, I couldn’t move. With a dramatic flourish, Eleanor pulled a glittering diamond ring from my pocket, letting it clatter onto the floor. The room fell silent before erupting into a chorus of insults. “Oh my god, she actually stole it!” “Assaulting a pregnant woman and stealing jewelry. She’s not just pathetic, she’s a criminal!” “Trash is trash. You can’t wash away that kind of filth.” I stared at the ring on the carpet. A cold laugh bubbled up from my chest. To get rid of me, they had resorted to the most cliché, desperate setup imaginable. “What are you laughing at? We caught you red-handed!” Garrick’s voice trembled slightly as he took a half-step back. He snatched a thick folder from his assistant and threw it right at my face. “Glinda, between the assault on a pregnant woman and the theft of a fifty-million-dollar heirloom, you’re looking at a lifetime behind bars!” Garrick picked up a microphone, his voice echoing through the ballroom. “But out of respect for our past, if you sign this divorce agreement and post a public confession admitting to your crimes, I won’t call the police.” He looked down at me, smug and entirely certain of his victory. He was convinced I would beg. He thought I couldn’t survive without him. I looked down at the document. The terms stripped me of every dime and saddled me with millions in shared marital debt. As the guards loosened their grip, thinking I was defeated, I wrenched my arms free and picked up the papers. “That’s more like it,” Garrick sneered. “Sign it, and get out of my sight…” I ripped the contract in half, then tore it into shreds, throwing the confetti right into his face. “I don’t need your mercy. Call the cops,” I said. “But before they get here, maybe the guests would like to see a different kind of show.” I pulled out the USB drive and walked toward the grand projection console. “Stop her! Grab that drive!” Garrick yelled, his face suddenly pale. Several security guards rushed toward me. I slotted the drive into the console, my finger hovering over the enter key. With one press, Gemma’s fake pregnancy, the plagiarized blueprints, and Garrick’s money-laundering schemes would be broadcast to the world. Just as my finger descended, the heavy double doors of the ballroom were slammed open. The chatter ceased instantly. Every head turned toward the entrance. A line of black-suited bodyguards marched in, forming a human corridor. Then, a man walked through. The entire room went dead quiet. The man scanned the room with cold, piercing eyes. I stood at the console, my hand frozen, staring at the intruder. Garrick’s face drained of color. His knees buckled, and he collapsed to the floor. “You…” Garrick gasped, his voice shaking violently. “How are you alive… You’re supposed to be dead…”

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1 It was our first time attempting the high-altitude, single-hand throw lift during pairs training. My partner, who also happened to be my boyfriend, Tristan, failed to catch me. I plummeted straight onto the razor-sharp edge of his skate blade. The impact severed my Achilles tendon instantly. He held me on the ice as I bled, sobbing hysterically. In the weeks that followed, guilt kept him awake night after night, leaving him too terrified to even step back onto the ice. So when Coach Helena approached me, begging me to convince Tristan to resume training for the upcoming Winter Olympics, I didn’t hesitate. I rolled my wheelchair straight toward the rink. But as I approached the locker room, I overheard a conversation between Tristan and my alternate, Mika. “Keira is done. She will never step onto the ice again, Tristan. Your partner is me now, and it can only be me.” “Hold me, please?” Tristan’s voice was thick with hesitation. “I can’t do this to her.” “You already have. Those newly sharpened, altered blades, you’re the one who secretly disposed of them, aren’t you?” Mika’s voice turned into a soft, venomous purr. “Just admit it, Tristan. You’ve fallen for me.” Watching their silhouettes melt into an embrace through the cracked door, the physical agony of my severed tendon paled in comparison to the sudden, icy void opening in my chest. It felt as though I had been plunged naked into a frozen lake. I wheeled myself back to our apartment, my mind a chaotic blur of the scene I had just witnessed. Mika wanted my spot on the Olympic team, so she had sabotaged Tristan’s skates with dangerously sharpened blades, knowing what the impact would do to me. And my boyfriend, the man I trusted with my life, had realized it immediately. While everyone was frantic over my bleeding ankle, he had quietly destroyed the evidence. During my weeks in a wheelchair, he had knelt at my feet every single day, weeping and begging for forgiveness for his careless mistake. He had said, “If you never walk again, Keira, I’ll never skate again either.” Injuries are part of the sport, so I had never blamed him. Instead, I spent my days comforting him, hiding my own despair to soothe his guilt. Now, looking back, I wondered what he had actually been thinking during those quiet moments. Was he hoping for my recovery, or was he just relieved that his precious Mika’s crime remained buried? The click of the front door broke the silence. Tristan walked in, his expression tense and unnatural. Following closely behind him was Mika, looking equally solemn. He managed a weak, rehearsed smile. “Hey, sweetheart. You must be hungry. I brought takeout from that Italian place you love.” At the dinner table, the air was thick with unspoken words. They kept glancing at each other, waiting for me to make the first move, to ask the questions they were dying to answer. But I kept my eyes on my plate, silently chewing, refusing to grant them the easy way out. Finally, Mika couldn’t take the silence anymore. “Keira, Coach Helena wants me to partner with Tristan. The Winter Olympics are only a few months away. Do you… do you hate me for taking your place?” They had already made their decision. This performative guilt was just a pathetic attempt to ease their own consciences. They wanted me to bless their union so they could skate without looking like monsters. I looked up, my voice flat. “The competition is what matters. Besides, you’ve trained hard for this, haven’t you?” They exchanged a quick look, a visible wave of relief washing over both of them. After dinner, as Tristan went to clear the table, Mika smoothly took the plates from his hands. “Let me handle this, Tristan. Go sit and talk to Keira.” She moved around our kitchen with practiced ease, tossing my favorite yellow peonies into the trash and replacing them with a fresh vase of lilies of the valley she had brought with her. Her movements were so seamless, so natural, as if she were already the mistress of this house. I told them I needed to use the restroom. As Tristan went to stand, Mika quickly intercepted him, grabbing the handles of my wheelchair. “I’ve got her. It’s a bit awkward for a guy to help with this anyway.” Tristan offered her a soft, grateful smile. “Thanks, Mika. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” They had their own silent understanding. Neither of them seemed to realize how absurd it was that my own boyfriend of nearly twenty years would find it awkward to help me to the bathroom. Whether by accident or design, as she went to help me transfer from the chair, her grip suddenly went completely limp. I lost my balance, collapsing heavily onto the floor. My healing ankle slammed hard against the sharp edge of the bathroom step. A sharp, blinding agony tore through my leg, and a scream ripped from my throat. Hearing the commotion, Tristan rushed into the hallway. But before his hands could reach me, Mika let out a sharp cry of her own. She held up her hand, where a broken fingernail was oozing a tiny bead of blood. “Oh my god, it hurts so much! I don’t know why, but Keira suddenly pushed me! I tried to catch her, and my nail snapped! It hurts, Tristan!” My forehead was slick with cold sweat. “Tristan, take me to the ER,” I choked out, clutching my throbbing ankle. My Achilles tendon could not survive a secondary rupture. Mika whimpered, looking at me with tear-filled eyes. “Keira, are you doing this because you’re angry about the Olympic partnership?” Tristan, who had been taking a step toward me, froze. He looked down at me, his gaze suddenly hardening with disappointment and blame. “This was the athletic association’s decision, Keira. You shouldn’t let your personal jealousy get in the way of national glory.” With those words, he turned away from my bleeding leg, lifting Mika in his arms, and walked out the door without looking back. I watched their retreating figures, too exhausted to even cry. My only thought was that I couldn’t let my leg be ruined forever. Clawing my way from the cold bathroom floor to the living room couch, every inch of movement felt like a hot knife slicing through my flesh. It took me nearly twenty minutes of agony just to reach my phone and call for an ambulance. By the time Tristan finally showed up at the hospital, I had already undergone emergency corrective surgery. The surgeon’s words still echoed in my ears: one more trauma to this tendon, and I would walk with a permanent limp, never to skate again. I looked up at Tristan from the sterile hospital bed. “Do you know what I was thinking when they wheeled me into surgery?” He didn’t answer. “I was thinking that if I can never step on the ice again, I’ll have nothing left to live for.” Since we were children, I had always told him that figure skating was my religion. I would give everything for it, including my life. Back then, Tristan had looked at me with adoration and said, “I just want to be the one standing beside you in your sanctuary.” He wasn’t naturally gifted. But to earn the right to stand next to me, he had pushed himself to the absolute limit, risking career-ending injuries just to hear the coach say he was worthy of being my partner. I had cherished him just as much as I cherished the sport. I truly believed we would glide through life together until our hair turned gray. Tristan reached out, his hand trembling as he took mine, his eyes swimming with guilt. “I’m so sorry, Keira. I had no idea it was this bad. Mika told me you were just trying to pick a fight to make her look bad.” “She feels incredibly guilty, too. She was too ashamed to face you. And her hand was injured…” I looked him dead in the eye. “Tristan, if I told you she dropped me on purpose, would you believe me?” His eyes flickered, shifting away from mine in a stiff, awkward motion. “Keira, Mika can be a bit impulsive and blunt sometimes, but you shouldn’t let your bitterness turn into slander. You’re better than this.” Mika. Not my alternate. Not the rookie. Just Mika. Looking at this man whom I had loved for nearly two decades, a profound sense of exhaustion washed over me. I slowly turned my back to him, refusing to say another word. He stood there awkwardly for a long time until his phone rang with a call from the training center. Before leaving, he hesitated near the door. “Next week is our first public exhibition as a pair. Mika wants you to be there to guide her. It’s for the national team’s reputation, Keira. Please don’t let your stubbornness ruin this.” I stared at the pale wall. “Tristan, how long have we been together?” “Next week… it’ll be twenty years.” Twenty years. A lifetime. We had been inseparable since we first learned to tie our laces. And now, he brushed off Mika’s malicious sabotage as mere impulsiveness, while treating my pain as malicious jealousy. What a pathetic excuse for a partner. But I still went to the exhibition. Sitting in my wheelchair at the edge of the rink, I watched the two of them glide in perfect harmony. For a fleeting second, I saw a ghost of my former self on the ice. I remembered the first time I met Mika. She was just a little girl huddled in the corner of a public rink, crying because her family couldn’t afford proper coaching. She had raw talent, a natural grace that made her look like she owned the ice even when her form was clumsy. I couldn’t bear to see that potential go to waste. I had walked over, extended my hand, and said, “Come with me. I’ll teach you how to fly.” Back then, she had looked up at me with starry eyes, calling me her idol. I never could have imagined that the sweet girl I rescued would eventually tear my life apart. A hand gently rested on my shoulder, breaking my reverie. My senior mentor and coach, Helena, sat down beside me. “What do you think?” she asked softly. “She’s good,” I replied. “Her jumps are clean, and her extensions are sharp. She has a real shot at the podium.” Helena shook her head, her gaze fixed on the ice. “Don’t you think she looks too much like you?” “Or rather, she is trying her absolute best to recreate you, to copy every single detail.” Watching Mika, I realized Helena was right. Even the precise angle of her arms during her transitions was an exact replica of my own style. “She’s been asking me for your old training footage for three years now,” Helena whispered. Three years. That was only a year after I brought her to the national training center. So she had been plotting to replace me from the very beginning. As the swelling crescendo of the music filled the arena, I finally understood what Mika wanted me to see. A triple axel, followed by three successive leaps, transitioning into a sweeping black swan glide across the ice, before finally collapsing like a sleeping child against Tristan’s knee as they spun. It was a sequence that required an insane amount of core strength, with only a single point of balance at the waist. It was my signature sequence. The routine that had won Tristan and me our world championship titles. Almost instantly, the eyes of everyone in the arena shifted toward me. Some held pity, some shock, and others a sick sense of amusement. When the music died down, Mika glided gracefully toward the barrier, stopping right in front of my wheelchair. “How did I do, Keira?” she asked, her voice sweet yet dripping with triumph. “You did well,” I murmured. Helena stood up, her tone sharp and demanding. “Mika, when did you learn that sequence?” Before Mika could open her mouth, Tristan stepped in. “There’s nothing wrong with learning techniques from other elite skaters, Coach. It’s common practice.” While skaters often study each other’s mechanics, copying an entire signature sequence step-for-step was a blatant insult. It was Mika’s way of marking her territory, telling me that I had been completely erased. I reached out and patted Helena’s hand. “It’s fine, Helena. If a routine can be so easily copied, then it was never truly unique to begin with.” But in reality, that sequence had taken me months of grueling practice and countless falls to perfect. More importantly, it required an absolute, instinctive connection between partners. You couldn’t practice it alone. Mika’s execution was too seamless to be a recent development. Which meant she and Tristan had been practicing my routine behind my back for months, perhaps even years. Even if the accident hadn’t happened, Tristan would have eventually found another excuse to put her in my spot. I asked Helena to wheel me out. But as we turned, Tristan called out after me. “Keira, wait!” I looked back. “What is it?” “Wait for me to finish this afternoon’s session. I’ll take you to your physical therapy appointment.” He looked desperate, as if trying to prove that even if my routine could be stolen, he couldn’t be. Catching the subtle darkening in Mika’s eyes behind him, I offered a faint, empty smile. “Sure.” Deep down, I knew he wouldn’t make it. But I stayed in the arena lobby anyway, staring at the white sheets of ice through the glass. I wasn’t sure what I was waiting for. Maybe I just didn’t want my twenty years of dedication to end so abruptly. Or maybe the ice was the only place that still offered me some semblance of peace. During the afternoon break, Tristan came out. He wheeled me onto the ice, pushing the chair at a thrilling speed, gliding backward while keeping his eyes locked onto mine. He smiled, the familiar warmth returning to his face. “As long as I can skate, Keira, I’ll keep dancing with you on the ice. You will always have me.” It was the same promise he whispered before every major competition. “Tristan is forever devoted to Keira. Trust me.” He reached into his pocket and slid a ring onto my finger. “I should have given this to you sooner. If it weren’t for the accident, we would already be married.” I looked down at the ring. The diamond setting was shaped like our first gold trophy, with two tiny figures skating together engraved along the band. It was beautifully, meticulously designed. “Let’s get married next week, Keira. Let’s start our next twenty years together, okay?” His eyes were bright, filled only with my reflection. For a second, I couldn’t tell if this was born of lingering guilt or genuine devotion. My fingers tightened around the band. But just as I opened my mouth to speak, a sharp, agonizing shriek echoed from the locker rooms. It was Mika. Without a single second of hesitation, Tristan let go of my wheelchair. He turned and ran toward the sound, his sudden movement jolting my chair so hard it nearly tipped over. My arm slammed violently against the metal armrest. It throbbed with pain. By the time Helena wheeled me to the scene, a crowd had gathered. Mika was sitting on the bench, her bare feet covered in blood, with shards of broken glass scattered around her skate bag. She was sobbing hysterically as Tristan knelt before her, gently wiping away her tears. Seeing me enter, Mika looked up, biting her lip with an expression of profound betrayal. “Keira… why would you do this to me?” I stared at her, genuinely baffled. “What are you talking about?” “Just because I skated your sequence, you wanted to ruin my feet?” she cried, her voice trembling. “You wanted to destroy me!” A dry laugh escaped my lips. “And what makes you think I did this?” “Only you have the spare key to my locker! If it wasn’t you, did I put the glass in my own skates?” Her words were sharp, painting me as a bitter, vengeful monster. When she first joined the training center, she had been lost and dependent on me. I had looked after her, even keeping her spare key because she constantly misplaced things. Now, my kindness had been twisted into a weapon against me. “It wasn’t me,” I said simply. “I know I shouldn’t have taken your spot or your partner,” Mika sobbed, looking around at the murmuring onlookers. “But even if you hate me, could you have at least waited until after the Olympics? I just wanted to skate for our country…” I raised my voice, trying to stay calm. “I told you, I didn’t do it. You can check the security cameras, I haven’t been near the locker rooms today…” “Enough!” Tristan’s voice cut me off, loud and harsh. “Keira, you’ve disappointed me beyond words.” He scooped Mika up in his arms. As he brushed past my wheelchair, I reached out and grabbed the edge of his jacket. “The question you asked me on the ice,” I whispered, staring up at him. “Do you still want my answer?” He didn’t even look at me. Shucking off my grip, he carried Mika down the hallway, leaving me behind for the second time. I stared at my empty hands, then slowly pulled out a crumpled business card that a European scout had slipped into my pocket weeks ago. I dialed the number. “Hello, this is Keira. I’m ready to accept your offer.” Before leaving for good, I needed closure. I wheeled myself to the hospital where Mika had been admitted. But as I reached her room, Tristan’s muffled, strained voice drifted through the door. “We can’t do this, Mika. I just proposed to Keira.” Mika’s voice was thick with tears. “But we are the ones who belong together now. She only makes you chase her. When you skate with me, you’re actually happy, doesn’t it feel that way?” A long, heavy silence followed. It was the only answer she needed. Finally, Tristan spoke. “Keira has waited for me for so long. Other than skating, I’m all she has left. We already took away her career. If I abandon her now, she won’t survive.” He knew. He knew exactly what they had stolen from me, yet he had still chosen to protect her because she was the one who mattered. His proposal on the ice wasn’t a promise of love; it was a pity prize to keep me from falling apart. I looked down at the ring on my finger, slipped it off, and dropped it into a nearby trash can. There was no need for a dramatic farewell. I turned my wheelchair around and left. But the drama followed me. Someone had snapped photos of Tristan and Mika in the hospital corridor and posted them online. Within hours, the internet erupted in fury. The golden couple of pairs skating was dead. The public was outraged, pointing out that Keira was still in a wheelchair while they flaunted their affair. People began to suspect the breakup had happened much earlier, and some even questioned if Keira’s injury had truly been an accident, wondering if they had sabotaged her to take her spot. Mika was bombarded with demands to leave the team. Amid the storm of public condemnation, my phone rang. It was Tristan. There was no apology, no explanation. Only panic. “Keira, you need to release a statement to the press right now. Mika is crying her eyes out. She is young, she can’t handle this kind of cyberbullying.” “What do you want me to say?” I asked, my voice deadly quiet. “Just tell them your injury was a freak accident during training. That it had nothing to do with us.” “And the photo of you two kissing in the hallway?” “I’ll explain that to you later. Mika was just having a panic attack, and I didn’t push her away in time. Besides, if you hadn’t put glass in her skates, none of this would have happened!” Our betrayal had somehow become my fault. “How do you want me to spin it?” “I’ll post a statement saying we broke up a long time ago, and that I’m dating Mika now. You need to back it up so she doesn’t look like a homewrecker. We can put the wedding on hold for a bit. Once the drama dies down, we’ll get married.” His words were so casual, so dismissive of the ruin he had brought upon me. “Tristan, you two made this mess,” I said. “You’re the ones who owe me an apology.” I hung up. But Tristan was faster than I anticipated. He released a public statement shortly after. “Keira and I ended our relationship a long time ago. My relationship with Mika is completely normal. Keira’s injury was a tragic training accident that has nothing to do with anyone else.” But the internet didn’t buy it, pointing out the suspicious timing of the announcement right after the hospital photos leaked. Tristan replied directly to the skeptics, claiming he had wanted to protect my dignity, but since they insisted, he alleged we broke up because my jealousy had led me to bully my younger, more talented teammates. Mika immediately followed up by posting a picture of her bandaged, bleeding foot alongside her blood-stained skates, claiming she was only being comforted at the hospital because someone had put shattered glass in her boots. The narrative began to shift. The final blow came when the national athletic federation’s official social media account liked Tristan’s post and leaked a carefully edited security clip of Mika sobbing in the locker room, accusing me of sabotaging her. Suddenly, the tide of public hatred turned entirely on me. I became the bitter, crippled villain who had tried to sabotage her country’s Olympic chances. When I went to the clinic for my checkup, strangers spat insults at me in the streets. During all of this, Tristan never reached out once. Sitting in the departure lounge at the airport, I received two text messages. One was from Helena. It was simple: “I’m sorry.” I understood. Between a crippled skater who might never walk again and a rising star destined for the Olympics, the federation had made the logical choice to protect their investment. The second text was from Tristan: “Keira, this was the only way to handle things quickly. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. We’ll get married right after the Winter Games.” I didn’t reply to either. I dropped my phone into the trash can next to the boarding gate, turned my back on the country that had abandoned me, and boarded my flight to Europe.

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1 When I was eighteen, I used my heart’s blood to save Terry after he was shipwrecked, binding us in a three-year tribulation contract. But on the day of our ninth wedding attempt, Terry backed out again. Instead of arguing as I had in the past, I calmly proposed, “Let’s just call it off.” He frowned, his tone carrying a mix of exasperation and blame. “Don’t throw a temper tantrum. Amara isn’t doing well right now. This trip is very important to her. It’s just a one-week delay. We’ll get married the moment we get back.” I remained quiet for a moment, then finally nodded. Amara’s custom ringtone went off. Before leaving, he smiled and ran his fingers through my hair. “Be good. I promise, this is the last time. When I get back, I’ll transfer that beach house you love into your name.” I forced a tight, painful smile. There wouldn’t be a next time. Terry didn’t know that I was the last mermaid left in the world. If he didn’t choose me completely, I would dissolve into nothingness beneath the next full moon, exactly six days from now. “Bang!” The front door slammed shut, sharp and final. I stood alone in the center of the silent room, a dull, familiar ache beginning to throb beneath my skin. I quickly made my way to the bathroom. Under the running water, a faint, barely visible shimmer rippled across my skin, like a fading signal. After some time, the burning pain finally subsided. My limbs felt stiff, taking me back to the day I first stepped ashore. Back then, walking on the sand felt like treading on glass. Every step was the reminding price of survival. And in the end, despite bleeding for him, I still couldn’t win Terry’s heart. Just as I went to step out, the lock clicked. Terry walked back in, carrying the faint, unmistakable scent of medicine. It was the scent of his fragile, sickly adoptive sister, the girl he always had to protect. I stepped out of the bathroom, cold and dripping with water. He paused, not coming any closer. He raised an eyebrow. “A cold shower? Was your temper really that flared up?” My face was pale, and I didn’t answer. He didn’t care. He spoke casually. “Amara was worried you’d be bored here alone. Pack your bags tonight. We’re leaving tomorrow, and you’re coming with us.” I froze, looking up at him. Terry brushed his thumb gently against the corner of my eye, a soft laugh slipping from his lips. “You’re always jealous of me spending time alone with Amara. This should make you happy, shouldn’t it?” My body went rigid. He quickly withdrew his hand to check his phone. Without looking up, he added, “By the way, we’re heading to the desert. Amara has always wanted to see the night sky there.” My pupils contracted, my fingers trembling. “I… Can I stay behind?” “You know I can’t handle the heat, and my dehydration condition…” Terry looked up from his screen, his expression hardening. He let out a cold scoff. “Dehydration condition? You’re just being dramatic.” Before I could explain, his gaze turned icy. “Amara is in much worse health and she didn’t complain. She wanted to include you out of kindness, and this is how you repay her?” The blood drained from my face, leaving me speechless. Terry stared at me for a few seconds, letting out a weary sigh. “Neri, I don’t want to fight with you right before our wedding.” My body remained stiff as I looked into his warm yet unyielding eyes. “Don’t make me repeat myself.” Under his heavy gaze, I finally whispered, “Okay.” Terry smiled, satisfied. He tapped his screen a few times, and the ticket confirmation popped up before my eyes. This was the ninth time he had used our wedding as a bargaining chip to force me to yield. Even though I knew the inevitable outcome, I still found myself stupidly hoping. The door opened and closed. Terry left with a light step, eager to return to Amara. I looked out the window, watching the moon grow fuller in the night sky. 2 The desert was more brutal than I had imagined. The air was dry enough to leach every drop of moisture from a human body. Even wrapped up tightly, my skin burned fiercely. Just as I unscrewed a bottle of ice water to drink, Amara backed up and bumped into me. The bottle slipped and crashed onto the sand. The water sank into the dry ground instantly, leaving only a dark, fleeting stain. Amara looked apologetic. “I’m so sorry, Nerissa. Here, you can have my water…” Terry stepped in, pulling her back by the hand. “You’re too weak to go without water.” Then he glanced at me carelessly. “Just hold on. We’ll have water once we reach the camp.” I struggled to breathe. Beneath my layers of clothing, my skin was already starting to crack. The sun grew harsher. Amara suddenly touched her forehead and whimpered, “Terry, the sun is so bright. I feel dizzy.” Terry stopped immediately. His eyes swept over my heavily bundled figure, and without a shred of hesitation, he said, “Neri, give Amara your coat and sunglasses.” My body shook. I looked at Terry with pleading eyes. “I can’t. I’ll…” Terry’s patience wore thin. “Amara is sick. She needs them more than you do. It’s just a little sun, what are you so afraid of?” Seeing me shake my head frantically, his patience evaporated. He grabbed my wrist, tearing the protective wrap from my body. “Neri, don’t be ungrateful.” The harsh sunlight beat down directly on my face and neck. Instantly, a horrifying rash of red burns and tiny blood blisters flared across my skin. When we first started dating three years ago, Terry had noticed my fear of the sun. He had silently taken off his jacket to shield my head for an entire afternoon, never mentioning that his own shoulders had blistered and peeled from the heat. He still knew how to care for someone. It was just that the person he cared for was no longer me. I bit my lip hard, refusing to let out a cry of pain. Amara gasped and took a step back. Terry covered her eyes, frowning with disgust as he looked at me. “What did you touch to break out like that? It’s hideous.” Without another word, he wrapped his arm around Amara and turned to leave. I stood alone in the heat, my hands shaking as I reached into the depths of my bag for a small bottle. It was filled with seawater I had brought with me. I opened the cap, but before I could spray it onto my burning skin, a hand snatched it away. Terry had doubled back. He stared at me, holding the bottle tightly. “Is this trash what you’ve been spraying on yourself to cause this reaction?” “Give it back!” My voice cracked with absolute terror. “Please, Terry, give it back. That’s seawater, it’s not trash…” Terry blinked, momentarily taken aback. He had probably never seen me lose my composure like this. But his expression quickly turned cold, and he tossed the bottle far out into the desert. I reached out, but I could only watch as the bottle landed on the sand, rolling a few times before being buried by the shifting wind. “Stop buying this useless junk,” he said coldly. “Neri, you should see what you look like right now. If you don’t care about your own appearance, at least don’t scare Amara.” His voice was swallowed by the desert wind. I stared at the sand, my eyes dry and burning, but my body could no longer produce a single tear. By the time we reached the camp, I could barely stand. A guide helped me to a chair and handed me a bottle of room-temperature water. But I didn’t even have the strength to open it. Terry was making a call nearby, his voice sounding tense and anxious. Through my blurring vision, I saw Amara leaning against him, looking fragile and pale. When he finished the call, he scooped her up in his arms. As he passed my chair, his footsteps paused. But the next second, Amara whimpered, “Terry…” Terry didn’t wait. He walked away with large strides. Their figures grew smaller and smaller until they vanished. My lips parted, but my throat couldn’t form a sound. As my vision faded into black, the last thing I saw was the sand dunes outside the tent, dyed blood-red by the setting sun. They looked like a burning sea. 3 I was awakened by my phone ringing. By the time I opened my eyes, the ringing had stopped. I was in a crude medical facility with an IV drip of saline hooked to my hand. I picked up my phone to find seven or eight missed calls from Terry. I stared at the screen for a moment before calling back. He answered almost instantly. “Neri, why didn’t you answer? Do you have any idea how worried I was?” My eyes welled with tears, my throat raw as sand. “I passed out from dehydration…” “Amara isn’t doing well right now. She needs a blood transfusion,” Terry interrupted, his voice frantic. “Your blood type is rare and matches hers. I already booked your flight back. Get to the airport immediately.” My limbs went numb. The phone slipped from my fingers, clattering onto the bed. Not hearing a response, Terry’s voice grew stern. “Nerissa, did you hear me? Don’t waste time, Amara can’t wait.” I licked my dry, cracked lips and finally managed a raspy whisper. “Okay.” The screen went black, reflecting a haggard face I barely recognized as my own. When I walked into the hospital, my steps were unsteady. The nurse took one look at my damaged skin and frowned. “Your veins are too collapsed from severe dehydration. You aren’t fit to donate blood.” Before I could speak, Terry walked in, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Do it anyway.” As the needle pierced my skin, I closed my eyes. The blood flowed through the plastic tube, carrying my remaining life with it. The first time I met Terry on land, he had been lying in a pool of his own blood. I had sliced open my wrist to let my mermaid blood flow into his mouth to save him. When he woke up, he held my hand and swore, “My life belongs to you now. I will cherish you forever.” He had promised to keep my secret. Now, he was draining my life to save his adoptive sister. “Mr. Drake, Miss Amara’s condition has stabilized. We can stop the transfusion now.” The voice sounded like it was coming from a great distance. I couldn’t hear clearly. I only saw Terry look at me, a sudden look of shock freezing his features. But he quickly looked away, his voice still tense. “Keep drawing. Just in case.” The moonlight seeped through the blinds. It wasn’t the full moon yet, but I could hear the sea drying up inside my veins. When it was finally over, I pushed myself up from the chair. My legs buckled. The skin on the back of my hand peeled away, exposing grey, dead tissue underneath. But no one noticed. Terry let out a sigh of relief, his gaze softening as he looked at me. I didn’t look back. I forced myself to walk out, concentrating every ounce of my energy just to keep from collapsing. Near the exit, I ran into Amara. She gave me a weak smile. “Thank you, Nerissa. Terry told me your blood is special and could save me. He’d do anything to keep me safe. I’m sorry for causing so much trouble.” Terry held her up, murmuring, “Why aren’t you resting in bed?” I bit my tongue to keep myself conscious. Ignoring them, I dragged myself back to the villa alone. I turned on every faucet in the bathroom and tumbled into the tub. Only then did the rapid drain on my life slow down. Looking at my reflection in the water, I saw cracks running across my skin like a dry riverbed. My eyes were sunken, my skin grey and dull. I tried to cover it with my hair, but clumps of it broke off from the roots, floating away in the water. A wave of panic seized me. I scrambled out of the tub and threw on every layer of clothing I could find, wrapping myself completely to hide my decaying body. Hours later, Terry returned with Amara and a few of his friends. Seeing the heavy curtains drawn, blocking out all light, one of his friends joked, “Is your girl putting on a surprise for you, Terry?” “Or maybe she’s playing hide-and-seek. The wedding is tomorrow, after all!” Terry’s face darkened as he threw open the doors. Finally, in the last room, they found me curled into a tight ball in the corner. “What are you doing now?” he snapped, walking over to tear the heavy layers of clothing away. When my body was exposed to the light, Terry froze. The room fell into a dead silence. 4 Dry, shriveled skin, thinning hair, hollow eyes… Everyone gasped in horror. No one spoke. Terry’s brow furrowed deeply. “You…” Amara suddenly let out a soft laugh. “Is this a cosplay, Nerissa?” “The makeup is so realistic, it actually scared me.” The others laughed along. “Terry, your fiancée is pretty creative. Is there going to be a performance at the wedding tomorrow?” “This special effects makeup is incredible. It looks so real.” Terry’s expression grew even more annoyed. He stared at me for a few seconds, his irritation turning into disgust. “Nerissa, what are you trying to accomplish?” “Did you make yourself look like a monster just to disgust me? To embarrass me in front of my friends?” My fingers trembled. I avoided their gazes, grabbing my coat to cover myself up again. Amara spoke softly. “Terry, don’t be mad. She was probably just playing a joke.” This only made him angrier. “Go wash that trash off your face, or don’t expect me to show up at the altar tomorrow.” He took Amara’s hand and turned to leave. I reached out, my fingers catching the hem of his coat in a silent, desperate plea. “Terry…” My grip loosened. Terry instinctively took a step back, distancing himself from me. But a sudden, inexplicable anxiety flared in his chest. He paused, pushing down the uneasy feeling. “Leave her. Let’s go.” At the door, he stopped and threw a cold look back. “Remember what I said. Clean yourself up. Don’t embarrass me tomorrow.” The friends chuckled and followed him out. “Alright, let’s get back to the bachelor party. No sleep tonight!” The door clicked shut. The room was plunged back into silence. Only the ticking of the clock remained, counting down my final hours. As the moon climbed higher, memories of his proposal flashed through my mind. He had knelt on the beach, his hands shaking as he opened the ring box. The fearless Terry had actually been nervous. His eyes had reflected only me and the setting sun. “Neri, I’ve never begged anyone in my life. But I’m begging you to wait for me, okay?” “Please wait for me. I will give you the grandest wedding in the world.” Back then, I truly believed our love would last forever. But I couldn’t wait any longer. Meanwhile, in the VIP lounge, a drink was offered to Terry, but he pushed it away distractedly. The liquor spilled onto the floor. Amara looked hurt. “Terry?” He didn’t answer. A heavy, suffocating weight seemed to press down on his chest, as if something precious was slipping through his fingers. He couldn’t take it anymore. Just before midnight, he raced back to the villa. He found me curled up by the window, motionless. He rushed over and pulled me into his arms, but the dry, brittle feel of my body made his heart stop. He finally realized this wasn’t makeup. “Neri? Neri?!” Through my hazy vision, I saw his frantic, terrified face. “What’s happening to you?” He was shouting, his lips moving, but my ears were filled with the roar of the ocean. I couldn’t hear him. The clock struck midnight. The bright moonlight poured through the window. Under his horrified gaze, I could no longer maintain my human form. My legs transformed into a long, shimmering fish tail, glowing with a brilliant silver light before fading rapidly. My scales fell away one by one, leaving my skin dry as bone. Terry stared, his mind unable to process the sight. In his pocket, the phone was vibrating with Amara’s ringtone, but he didn’t move. I looked up at him and smiled softly. “Terry, can you hear it?” I whispered, my voice barely a rustle of dry leaves. I pressed my withered, bark-like fingers against his chest. “My blood is flowing inside you. And it’s telling you…” “I am dying.” Terry’s pupils contracted in sheer horror.

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1 Anna is twenty-six years old, yet she insists on referring to herself as “Baby.” She calls my boyfriend “Daddy” and refers to my future mother-in-law as “Nana.” “Baby wants the pink Barbie doll. Daddy needs to buy it for me.” “Baby wants dinosaur chicken nuggets. Nana needs to make them for me.” My boyfriend’s entire family coddles her. Whatever she wants, she gets. Until the day she threw a tantrum about wanting to celebrate Children’s Day. My boyfriend agreed without missing a beat, then turned to comfort me. “You know Anna has that Little Girl Syndrome. Don’t overthink it.” I gave a soft chuckle and plucked his car keys from his hand. “I’m a preschool teacher. Nobody understands babies better than I do. I’ll be the one spending Children’s Day with her.” I drove her straight to my preschool. I made her play games with toddlers, perform on stage, and line up for a lollipop. She was absolutely furious. Her sanity finally snapped, and she screamed at the top of her lungs. “Hannah, do you really think I’m a three-year-old? I’ll kill you!” Her hands were wrapped tightly around my throat when the heavy velvet curtain was suddenly yanked back. Everyone was standing in the doorway. In a fraction of a second, the adorable little “Baby” had transformed into a twenty-six-year-old assailant. … Anna had posted on Instagram again. “Three days left until Children’s Day!” She tagged my boyfriend, Liam. “Baby wants a super huge celebration this year! Is Daddy ready?” Attached was a selfie of her wearing a frilly lace nightgown, her hair styled in twin pigtails, flashing a peace sign at the camera. I set my phone face down on the table and glanced at Liam, who was eating his breakfast across from me. His fork paused in mid-air. He let out a dry cough. “You know how Anna is. She’s got that Little Girl Syndrome.” I knew exactly how she was. Liam and I had been together for three years. We were at the stage of discussing marriage. He always told me he was an only child. I never expected him to come with a precious “Baby” sister attached. Anna was the exact same age as me. But she didn’t work. She lived in Liam’s family home, and she had been living there for twelve long years. She spoke in a sickeningly sweet, high-pitched voice, always starting her sentences with “Baby wants” or “Baby feels.” She demanded to be spoon-fed at dinner. She needed her hand held when walking. She required endless coaxing whenever she threw a fit. As an early childhood educator, I handled over a hundred actual toddlers every single day. Not a single one of them acted quite like her. My phone buzzed again. This time, it was a group chat notification. The chat was named “The Smith Family plus Hannah.” Anna was the one who came up with that name. “Daddy, Baby wants that limited-edition designer bag for Children’s Day. Then a trip to the amusement park in the afternoon, and French cuisine for dinner. Baby has it all planned out!” Another message popped up immediately after. “Auntie Hannah won’t mind, right? Baby just loves Daddy so much and wants to spend more time with him.” I lifted my gaze to look at Liam. A helpless, fond smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as his thumbs flew across the screen. “Alright, whatever Baby wants.” He typed those words without even bothering to look up at me. I placed my fork down. “Liam, I want to celebrate Children’s Day too.” He finally raised his head. “Huh?” “I’m a preschool teacher. I deal with kids from dawn to dusk. I want to be a baby for a day too. Why don’t you spend the day with me?” He clearly hadn’t anticipated my request. He stared at me in blank surprise. “Look how old you are. Why are you trying to copy Anna?” Look how old I am. Anna was four months older than me. I didn’t say another word. I stood up and began clearing the plates. Liam seemed to sense my sour mood. His tone softened. “Hannah, don’t read too much into this. How about I get you a gift too?” I wasn’t reading too much into it. And I didn’t want a gift. I was simply thinking. Thinking about how, or even if, he and I could keep going like this. Later that night, Anna sent another text. “Daddy, come coax Baby to sleep, please? Baby can’t sleep alone. Baby needs Daddy’s hugs to fall asleep.” Liam happened to be in the shower. I saw the notification light up his lock screen. A moment later, the screen illuminated again. “Has Daddy finished putting Auntie Hannah to sleep yet? Baby has been waiting forever.” “If Daddy doesn’t come right now, Baby is going to cry. And Baby is very hard to comfort when she cries.” I rubbed my temples, sinking into deep thought. Three years. Every Christmas, the check Liam’s mother wrote for Anna was twice the amount of mine. Whenever Liam’s father returned from a business trip, Anna got first pick of the souvenirs. I got the leftovers. Even when the three of us went out for dinner, Liam would always place the best cut of meat onto Anna’s plate first. The excuse was always the same. “Anna is a poor thing. She lost her dad when she was little. Just be the bigger person and let her have her way.” I had no choice but to yield. Because Anna’s father was a firefighter. Fifteen years ago, during a horrific apartment fire, Mr. Davis pulled Liam and his parents from the blazing inferno. But he never made it back out. That debt of gratitude was a crushing weight, a mountain pressing down on the shoulders of everyone in the Smith family. Twelve years ago, Anna’s mother passed away from a severe illness. From that day on, Anna moved into the Smith household and officially became their eternal “Baby.” If I hadn’t firmly insisted that Liam move out into an apartment with me, they would probably still be living under the exact same roof, breathing the same air day in and day out. The bathroom door clicked open. Liam walked out, drying his hair with a towel, and instinctively reached for his phone. “Go to her.” My voice cut through the silence. Liam froze, then quickly forced a laugh. “Anna is just joking around. Don’t say things out of anger.” “You know exactly whether she’s joking or not.” I walked into the bedroom and locked the door behind me. In the end, Liam didn’t go. He sat on the living room sofa for the entire night. But I knew the truth. He didn’t stay because he wanted to. He stayed because he lacked the courage to face my wrath. Early the next morning, my phone rang. Anna’s voice came through the speaker, thick with fake tears. “Auntie Hannah, are you mad at me?” “Please don’t fight with Daddy. Baby won’t call him Daddy anymore. Baby will be good. Baby will behave.” Her tone was so sugary sweet it made my stomach churn. I forced my voice to remain completely steady. “I’m not mad. Didn’t you say you wanted to celebrate Children’s Day?” Excitement instantly spiked in her voice. “Are you going to help me celebrate, Auntie Hannah?” “Exactly. I’m a preschool teacher. Nobody understands babies better than I do.” “Really? You’re the best, Auntie Hannah!” She cheered through the receiver. “Baby loves you! Mwah!” “I’ll pick you up at seven in the morning on the holiday.” “Okay! Baby will be waiting!” She hung up, her voice brimming with absolute joy. Liam looked at me, hesitating, as if wanting to say something but swallowing the words. I tossed the car keys in my hand and flashed him a smile. “What? You don’t trust me?” He paused for a long moment. “Just don’t push her too hard. She’s emotional. She can’t handle being stimulated.” “I know.” I patted him on the shoulder. “You and your parents can come by later. You’ll see for yourselves whether I bullied her or not.” “That’s not what I meant.” Liam tried to explain. I waved my hand, cutting him off completely. “Liam, take these next few days to really think things through.” “Think what through?” I looked him dead in the eye, enunciating every single syllable. “Think about whether we are still getting married or not.” He stared at me in stunned silence, rooted to the spot. 2 On the morning of the holiday, I pulled up to the Smith family home right on time. Anna was dressed in a puffy princess gown, a crystal tiara pinned in her hair. She looked as meticulously styled as a porcelain doll in a shop window. “Auntie Hannah, why didn’t Daddy come with you?” Her eyes sparkled as she peered into the empty backseat of my car. I held the passenger door open for her. “He’ll be here later.” She slid into the seat, buckled up, and chattered non-stop the entire drive. “Baby wants to ride the carousel today. And eat cotton candy. And Daddy has to buy Baby a giant balloon.” She clapped her hands together, then suddenly turned to look at me. “Auntie Hannah, you aren’t jealous, are you? Baby is just a little kid. You’re an adult with a big heart, so you won’t hold a grudge against Baby, right?” “Of course not.” I smiled. “I’m a preschool teacher. Why would I hold a grudge against a baby?” We drove for forty minutes. She scrolled through her phone for a while before finally glancing out the window. “Wait, this isn’t the road to the amusement park.” “Of course not. We aren’t going to the amusement park.” The color drained from her face. “We’re here.” I parked the car right in front of the preschool gates. It was my workplace. A massive red banner flapped in the morning breeze. It read: “Happy Universal Children’s Day!” “Auntie Hannah, why did you bring me to a preschool?” Panic made her voice pitch even higher. “To celebrate your holiday.” I unbuckled her seatbelt and tilted my head to look at her. “Didn’t you want the most authentic Children’s Day experience? Is there anywhere on earth more authentic than a kindergarten?” Her expression instantly froze. “I don’t want to go to preschool! I want to go to the amusement park!” She was shrieking now. “I want Daddy! I’m calling Daddy!” “Liam and his parents will be here soon. Don’t worry, they won’t miss your performance.” “What performance?” I stepped out, walked around to her side, and pulled her door open. I leaned in with a bright, professional smile. “Every baby has to perform on stage today. It’s the holiday pageant. Come on, hop out. Teacher will take you inside.” She didn’t move an inch. I held out my hand and waited with infinite patience. Three seconds. Five seconds. Ten seconds. Her lower lip jutted out. Her eyes pooled with red, looking like she was on the verge of a genuine sobbing fit. “Hannah, are you trying to humiliate me?” “Humiliate you?” I put on my best face of mock surprise. “Why would I do that? Didn’t you say you wanted to celebrate the holiday?” I nudged my hand closer to her. “Come on. Be a good baby.” She bit her lip, holding my gaze in a silent war for three brutal seconds. Finally, she surrendered and placed her hand in mine. I reached into the backseat, grabbed a small item, and pinned it directly to her chest. She looked down. It was a standard-issue name tag. It read: Senior Class, Anna. I dragged her toward the main gates. “Today, you are the newest student in the Senior Class. You are the cutest little Baby, so I just know you’re going to love it here.” She dragged her feet, muttering something vicious under her breath as she followed me. I didn’t catch what she said, and I didn’t care to. Because I knew the real show was just getting started. 3 I pushed open the door to the Senior Class. Twenty-five toddlers were sitting obediently in their tiny plastic chairs. “Boys and girls, we have a brand new classmate joining us today to celebrate the holiday. Let’s give her a big round of applause.” A smattering of confused clapping filled the room. Anna stood in the doorway, her face twisted in pure agony. Twenty-five pairs of wide, innocent eyes locked onto her. “Whoa!” A little girl in the front row dropped her jaw. “That’s a really big baby.” “That’s a grown-up! Why is a grown-up coming to preschool?” A little boy stood up and inspected Anna with absolute seriousness. “Are you a teacher?” Anna let out a strangled, awkward laugh. “No, big sister is just here to…” “She is a new student.” I cut in smoothly, patting Anna on the shoulder. “Her name is Anna. She is… three and a half years old. She just transferred from another school. Everyone play nice with her, okay?” Anna whipped her head toward me, opening her mouth to protest. I leaned in close, dropping my voice to a harsh whisper. “I thought you were a baby? Don’t tell me you’re backing out now.” Her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. I assigned her a seat. Our classroom furniture was built for toddlers. A fully grown adult woman cramming herself into a tiny plastic chair meant her knees were practically shoved against her chest. She looked like a tangled knot of limbs. The kids’ gazes swept over her like searchlights. “She’s so huge.” “Can she even fit?” “Is she going to break the chair?” A little girl with pigtails trotted up to her, tilting her head back to stare at Anna’s face. “Big sister, do you not want to be in preschool? My mommy says babies who don’t want to go to school are bad babies.” Anna’s eye visibly twitched. “Big sister doesn’t hate it.” “Then why do you look so grumpy?” The little girl tilted her head the other way. “You need to smile. You only look pretty when you smile.” The surrounding toddlers nodded in unison. “Yeah! You have to smile!” Anna forced out a smile that looked more painful than weeping. The first period was arts and crafts. I taught the class how to make origami frogs, handing out a square of colored paper to everyone. The kids launched into action. Within five minutes, the floor was littered with colorful, deformed paper shapes. Three minutes into the activity, Anna’s piece of paper sat perfectly untouched on her tiny desk. “What’s wrong?” I walked over. “Does Baby not know how to fold it?” She kept her voice low, her words grinding out through clenched teeth. “Hannah, what the hell are you trying to do?” She wasn’t even calling me Auntie Hannah anymore. “Teaching you how to grow up.” I kept my voice equally low, my bright smile never wavering. “If Baby doesn’t know how, Baby has to learn.” She glared at me, seething in silence. I picked up the paper and physically guided her hands to fold it. She remained entirely rigid, letting me manipulate her fingers like a lifeless wooden puppet. Twenty minutes later, a horribly mangled origami frog sat on her desk. “Ew, it’s so ugly.” The little boy next to her delivered the brutal truth without an ounce of hesitation. Anna’s face flushed an ugly shade of dark red. The second period was recess. I directed the kids out to the playground to use the slides. Anna stood stiffly by the fence. “I’m not playing.” “Why not?” “This is for little kids to play…” The sentence died in her throat. I kept my beaming smile in place and amplified my voice to address the playground. “Boys and girls, our new classmate says she’s too scared to go down the slide. Let’s cheer her on, shall we?” Twenty-five toddlers chanted in unison. “Go Anna! Go Anna! Go Anna!” Their high-pitched voices echoed across the entire yard. Anna’s face cycled rapidly between red and pale white. Finally, a couple of overly enthusiastic kids shoved her toward the steps of the play structure. She stood at the very top, peering down. The plastic slide was built to the exact width of a toddler’s hips. For an adult woman, it was physically impossible. “I can’t go down.” Her voice was weak, trembling. “Yes, you can! Be brave!” I yelled from the bottom, backed by twenty-five pairs of highly expectant eyes. She took a deep breath, shifted her weight, and slid down an inch. She immediately wedged tight in the opening of the tube, stuck completely fast like a cork jammed into a wine bottle. The kids instantly began whispering. “She’s stuck.” “I’ve never seen anyone get stuck on a slide before.” “That’s so embarrassing.” Anna was practically suffocating from sheer mortification. She looked like she wanted the earth to swallow her whole. In the end, it took me and another teacher physically hauling her by the armpits to pop her out of the slide. The moment her feet hit the ground, her face was completely scarlet. She shot me a look of unadulterated, venomous hatred. 4 At three in the afternoon, the Children’s Day Pageant officially commenced. The audience was packed with eager parents. Liam and his parents had arrived and taken their seats. The second Anna spotted them in the crowd, her eyes welled up with thick, dramatic tears. “Daddy.” She opened her mouth to cry out to him, but I grabbed her arm in a vice grip. “Hold on. It’s your turn to go on stage.” She froze. “On stage?” “Every student has to perform. You are the star of the Senior Class today. You’re our grand finale.” Her expression twisted into ugly outrage. “Why? You didn’t tell me this beforehand.” I gave a light chuckle. “It’s just a simple nursery rhyme. Do you really need to rehearse?” I paused for effect. “If you do a good job, there’s a huge prize waiting for you.” Anna furrowed her brows, clearly calculating the odds in her head. Before she could form a counterargument, I shoved her toward the backstage curtain. Five minutes later, her name was called. As she stepped out under the bright stage lights, Liam’s family immediately broke into loud applause. “You can do it, Anna!” Anna gripped the microphone, taking a deep, dramatic breath. She chose to sing “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.” A song any breathing human could manage. “Twinkle, twinkle, little star…” The first line was somewhat on key. By the second line, she was drifting. By the third line, she was screeching in a completely different galaxy. The expressions on the parents’ faces in the audience morphed from polite anticipation, to profound confusion, to people desperately biting their lips to hold back laughter. Anna clearly knew she sounded terrible, but she didn’t care. Halfway through the verse, she suddenly twisted her ankle with a loud “Ouch!” and dramatically collapsed onto the stage floor. Her eyes turned glassy. Fat tears hung on her lashes as she looked pitifully down at Liam in the front row. I knew that look entirely too well. I had been forced to watch it for three years. Liam’s heart immediately bled for her. He gripped the armrests of his folding chair, his body lifting to rush the stage. I was faster. I stepped out and blocked his path. “It’s perfectly normal for babies to make a little mistake on stage. As adults, we need to give them the space to grow.” I turned to address the bewildered crowd, keeping my professional smile perfectly intact. “Parents, we have to trust that our kids can stand back up on their own, don’t we?” The thoroughly confused parents nodded along. One father started clapping, and soon the entire auditorium erupted into supportive applause. “You can do it! Stand up and finish the song!” “It’s okay, sweetie! You’ve got this!” Anna lay sprawled on the floorboards, sheer disbelief plastered across her face. Her carefully orchestrated damsel-in-distress routine had completely imploded. Taking my cue, Liam slowly began to clap. Mr. and Mrs. Smith joined in, offering encouraging nods. “Come on, Baby Anna! You can do it!” Anna bit her lip so hard it nearly bled. She awkwardly dragged herself off the floor, gripped the microphone stand, and choked out the final two lines of the nursery rhyme. Her singing, much like her entire existence in that moment, was utterly pathetic and completely ridiculous. The pageant finally wrapped up, leading right into the award ceremony. I stepped to the podium holding a cheap paper certificate and a single strawberry lollipop. “And for Anna from the Senior Class, who showed immense bravery during today’s performance, we present the Ultimate Encouragement Award!” The audience clapped politely. Anna stomped onto the stage, a dark, thunderous cloud hanging over her face. She snatched the certificate and the lollipop from my hands, glaring down at them. “This is it? This is the huge prize you promised?” “Honor is the greatest gift of all.” I smiled brightly and pointed toward the front rows. “Look how happy all the other babies are.” Every toddler in the room was holding an identical lollipop and an identical cheap certificate, grinning from ear to ear. Anna looked like she was going to throw up. Her entire body was vibrating with unfiltered rage. She barely managed to wait until the curtain dropped before sprinting directly into the backstage area. “Hannah!” She crumpled the paper certificate into a tight ball and hurled the lollipop violently at the wall. “How dare you play me like this!” The backstage area wasn’t empty. A few toddlers were still milling about. But Anna didn’t care. She lost her mind, shrieking without a single shred of dignity. “I told you, I wanted the limited-edition designer bag! I wanted French food! I wanted the amusement park! Are you completely deaf?” I dropped my smile entirely. I stared at her with dead, cold eyes. “Those are things adults ask for. Don’t tell me… you aren’t actually a baby?” A little boy standing nearby nodded vigorously. “Yeah. My mommy asks for designer bags and fancy dinners. Babies don’t even know how to use forks and knives.” “And she just called Teacher Hannah by her first name. She didn’t say Auntie.” “She’s just a grown-up. She’s really bad at pretending to be a baby.” Anna’s chest heaved. The last remaining thread holding her sanity together violently snapped. “So what if I’m faking it?!” She lunged forward and shoved me hard in the chest. “You dared to mess with me, Hannah. I’ll kill you!” She took another step, her hands flying up to wrap aggressively around my throat. Right at that exact second, the heavy velvet curtain to the backstage area was yanked back. A row of people stood in the doorway, staring in absolute horror.

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