Category: English

While hiking deep in the mountains, we decided to spend the night in an abandoned chapel. In the middle of the night, I was violently awakened by the unmistakable, sickening sounds of my best friend and my boyfriend sleeping together. I quietly sat up in my sleeping bag to eavesdrop. “You’re a genius for using this hiking trip as an excuse.” “I locked the heavy wooden doors. She can’t escape. There’s an old stone well out back. After she falls asleep, we’ll smash her skull in with the hatchet and dump her at the bottom.” My blood ran completely cold. Trembling, I silently crawled behind the crumbling altar at the front of the chapel to hide. They had absolutely no idea that my hometown was just a few miles from this mountain ridge. And they had absolutely no idea that the deity worshipped in this specific chapel wasn’t a saint. It was a demon. Listening to my boyfriend and my best friend whisper about my murder, a freezing, unnatural gust of wind swept through the room, sending a shiver down my spine. The deep wilderness. A ruined chapel at midnight. Three people. There’s an old superstition in the mountains: Never enter a haunted shrine alone. Looking at my situation now, three people shouldn’t enter one, either. Murdering me. That was the real reason they dragged me out into the wilderness for this hiking trip. I didn’t have the time to feel heartbroken over my boyfriend’s betrayal, and I didn’t have the luxury of wondering why they wanted me dead. Right now, my only thought was how to make it out of here alive. My boyfriend, Carter, had bragged before we went to sleep about securing the heavy iron deadbolt on the main doors. My best friend, Riley, had tightly latched the only two windows. The only remaining exit was a jagged, gaping hole in the chapel’s rotten roof. Right now, this abandoned building was a perfect locked-room trap. If I tried to make a run for it, I would instantly alert them. One against two. I had zero chance of winning a physical fight. Was I really destined to die here tonight? As my heart hammered against my ribs, my eyes darted around and caught sight of the wooden idol resting on the altar. By the pale moonlight filtering through the roof, I could clearly see the idol’s features. It was a carving of a short, hunched old man squatting on a pedestal. He had a round face, a creepy smile, a crescent moon carved into his forehead, and a massive beard that touched the floor. He wore a complex, blood-red crown. It was the Caretaker of the Earth. I instinctively looked at the idol’s eyes. Normal statues of the Caretaker always have intricately carved eyes. But the eye sockets of this specific idol were completely hollow, resembling two pitch-black, bottomless pits. This was the exact entity from my hometown’s darkest urban legends! It was only then that I remembered I had never told Carter the exact location of the rural town where I grew up. Because I hadn’t been back in years, and Carter had driven a completely unfamiliar backroad to get here, I hadn’t even realized we were on the outskirts of my hometown. This meant that if I could just escape this chapel and run into the woods, I would eventually hit familiar territory and find the neighboring villages. But the only way out of this chapel… was him. But local lore always warned: Once you invite the Caretaker, it is almost impossible to send him away. I gritted my teeth. Walking on my tiptoes, I carefully bypassed the corner where those sickening, intimate noises were coming from. I crept up to the idol, reaching into the shadows behind the pedestal to pull out a single, unlit wax candle. Placing candles or offerings behind the idol was a tradition in these parts, meant to make it easier for passing travelers to pay their respects. Lighting three candles was a standard prayer of respect. But lighting exactly one candle… was a desperate summon. This was something my grandmother had taught me. But at the same time, she had given me a terrifying warning. “If you ever find yourself facing certain death, light a single candle to the Caretaker and sincerely whisper your plea. The Caretaker is immensely powerful and can solve any problem. But successfully summoning him is a massive gamble. It all depends on your fate!” “However, unless you are completely out of options, absolutely never light a single candle to him. Inviting a demon is easy, but banishing it is hell. Catastrophic things will happen.” My grandmother had repeated that final warning to me countless times. But right now, I was truly facing a brutal execution. I had no choice but to follow her instructions. I quietly pulled a lighter from my pocket and lit the wick. The tiny, flickering orange flame was glaringly obvious in the pitch-black room. Cold sweat poured down my face. I closed my eyes, pressed my trembling palms together, and silently pleaded in my head. Caretaker of the Earth, Carter and Riley are going to murder me. I don’t want to die. I want to live. I don’t want to die, please let me live… I placed the candle onto the iron tray at his feet. My grandmother had said that if the candle burned down completely within one minute, it meant the Caretaker had accepted your request. If it went out, you were doomed. My entire body shook as I stared at the candle, anxiously waiting, praying for it to melt faster. “Where are you? Sylvia—” Carter’s cold, menacing voice suddenly pierced the darkness. A freezing chill shot straight up my spine. I scrambled up onto the altar and huddled directly behind the wooden idol. “Sylvia! Where are you? Where did she go?!” It was Riley’s voice. I could hear the sheer, frantic panic in her tone. I crouched down, making myself as small as possible, using the idol to block my body. “Where is she?!” “I don’t know! I turned around and her sleeping bag was empty!” “Find her, now! I have a really bad feeling about this. Do you think she heard us talking?!” “Check the corners! She has to be in here somewhere. I double-checked the locks on the doors and windows myself.” My heart violently leaped into my throat. Because I could hear the crunching sound of heavy hiking boots slowly creeping toward my side of the room. I clamped both hands over my mouth, desperately trying to muffle my own rapid, terrified breathing. After what felt like an eternity, the footsteps in the chapel faded away. Riley’s voice echoed again: “Carter, did she manage to run away? I literally can’t find her anywhere. Did we just not hear the door open because we were too… focused?” “Maybe…” Just as I thought I had narrowly escaped death, Carter’s next sentence made my blood run completely cold. “Why is there a lit candle sitting here?” After a moment of dead, suffocating silence, the brutal sound of a heavy hatchet violently chopping into wood echoed through the room. CRACK—! The top half of the Caretaker’s wooden head was cleaved clean off. It tumbled heavily off the altar and crashed onto the stone floor, leaving the idol with only half a nose and a carved mouth. Tears welled up in the corners of my eyes. I was so paralyzed by terror that I couldn’t even cry out loud. “Damn it, I missed,” Carter’s voice was dripping with annoyance. He stared directly at the spot where I was hiding, enunciating every single word. “Sylvia. I originally planned to chop your head clean off with one swing. That way, you wouldn’t feel any pain.” My legs felt like jelly, but I took advantage of his distraction, leaped off the back of the altar, and limped frantically toward the heavy wooden doors at the front of the chapel. “Sylvia, you really shouldn’t have woken up. After all, our plan was to let you die peacefully in your sleep.” Riley laughed maliciously, then ordered Carter, “Hurry up and get her. Stop wasting time.” I pounded on the doors with everything I had, but the rotting, antique wood was unbelievably sturdy. It wouldn’t budge an inch. “HELP! SOMEBODY HELP ME! THEY’RE TRYING TO KILL ME! PLEASE!” My screams for help were entirely useless. In this isolated, abandoned mountain shrine, it was physically impossible for anyone to be walking by. “AHHHHH!” The heavy steel hatchet slammed into the wood right next to my ear. If it had been one inch closer, it would have sliced my ear clean off. Riley giggled flirtatiously. “You’re so annoying, your aim is terrible tonight. Let me do it this time.” I turned around and dropped to my knees, frantically bowing and begging them. “Please don’t kill me! Whatever you guys want, I’ll give it to you! I’ll step aside, I promise I won’t tell anyone you cheated on me! Just let me go!” Riley smiled sweetly. “But, Sylvia. Only dead girls don’t tell lies.” Suddenly, I felt incredibly cold. It wasn’t a psychological chill. It was a visceral, physical, freezing drop in temperature. A violent gust of freezing wind swept through the closed room, and all three of us heard a strange, rustling noise. Carter violently whipped his head around. “Who’s there?!” But there was no one behind them. Just shattered pieces of rotting wood and swirling dust. Riley suddenly looked terrified. She grabbed Carter’s arm, her voice tight with anxiety. “Baby, I suddenly feel really, really cold. Is it because you hit the idol with the hatchet? Is the spirit angry?” Carter patted her hand, trying to comfort her. “Don’t be scared, I’m right here. Let’s just kill her first…” Saying that, Carter looked at me, picked up a secondary hatchet from the floor, and took a step closer. But out of the corner of my eye, I noticed something. The single candle I had lit… had completely burned down to a puddle of wax. Which meant… my summon had worked! WHOOSH— The previously dead-silent night suddenly exploded into a howling gale. I knelt on the floor, my face deathly pale. Because I could see the Caretaker. He had materialized, completely silently, directly behind them. He was staring at me with a sickeningly sweet smile, not saying a single word. His face was frozen in a perfectly symmetrical, terrifyingly cheerful grin. My trembling finger pointed over Carter’s shoulder. “The Caretaker… he’s right behind you…” Carter violently spun around. “WHAT THE FUCK!” He grabbed Riley and leaped backward, staring at the entity with pure, defensive hostility. “Where the hell did you come from?! We locked the doors from the inside!” The Caretaker maintained his creepy smile. “Someone invited me. So, I arrived.” “Carter, Riley. You are committing murder for money.” He was incredibly short, barely reaching Carter’s chest. Because he looked so physically unimposing, Carter’s hostility shifted into arrogant annoyance. Carter scoffed at him. “None of your damn business!” Riley tugged hard on Carter’s jacket, lowering her voice. “Baby, he’s terrifying. Let’s just get out of here…” “Tomorrow at noon, buy a Powerball ticket. At 6:00 PM, buy the exact crypto coin you lost eleven grand on last month. At 7:00 PM, stand outside the Neon Tavern downtown.” Carter remained deeply suspicious. “Why the hell should I believe you?” The Caretaker kept smiling. He slowly turned his head to look at Riley, his voice rattling like a mechanical automaton. “Tomorrow at 5:00 AM, go for a morning jog. At noon, take a walk across the downtown suspension bridge. At 9:00 PM, call 911 for the very first elderly woman you encounter.” Riley clung to Carter, her voice trembling violently. “What… what exactly are you?!” “I am the Caretaker of the Earth.” The entity’s empty eyes seemed to glint in the dark. He looked incredibly sincere. “You are only killing her for the fifty thousand dollars in her savings account. Do exactly as I say, and you will walk away with tens of millions.” Having their darkest secrets exposed so casually, the two of them exchanged a shocked look. For some reason, they began to actually trust this bizarre, spectral entity. Because everything he had just said was 100% accurate. “You cannot kill her, or I will be very angry,” the Caretaker said, pointing a short, wooden finger at me. Walking away with tens of millions without having to murder anyone, and without having to live in paranoia about hiding a corpse. If they backed off now, they didn’t even have to worry about me calling the cops. After all, they hadn’t committed any actual crime yet. The worst they were guilty of was cheating. It was a guaranteed, zero-risk jackpot. After a few minutes of whispered debate, Carter and Riley chose to trust him. “Fine. But what happens if we do it and we don’t get the money?” The Caretaker let out a raspy chuckle. “If you don’t get the money, you can chop me to pieces. I will die in her place.” The way he phrased it was incredibly disturbing, sending a chill down everyone’s spine. Just like that, a brutal, backwoods murder was completely defused by a few sentences from a ghost. My execution was permanently canceled. But… I felt a deep, gnawing sense that something was horribly, terribly wrong. I just couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was. Since all the cards were on the table and our relationship was officially over, Riley wordlessly packed up their gear, and the two of them hiked down the mountain in the dark. Leaving me alone with the Caretaker. “What about you.” His voice made me jump out of my skin. “What?” The Caretaker stared dead at me. His face still carried that perfectly symmetrical, horrifyingly cheerful grin. “What do you want?” “I already got what I wanted. I survived. Thank you, Caretaker.” “Not enough.” I finally realized what was so horribly wrong about him. From the very beginning, every single time he spoke, his carved, wooden mouth had never once opened. My grandmother had warned me. Only a corpse-stealing demon speaks without opening its mouth. “Sylvia, the Caretaker isn’t a saint. He’s a demon.” I finally remembered that exact sentence. That night, I fled the abandoned shrine in absolute terror. Not long after, Carter actually struck it rich. The Powerball ticket he bought won him a ten-million-dollar jackpot.

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1 The agonizing cramps in my abdomen were so unbearable that I dragged myself to the ER, where I was diagnosed with acute appendicitis. The doctor was typing on his keyboard to prescribe my pre-op meds when his hands suddenly stopped. He looked up at me. “Why do you have an IUD in place if you haven’t had children yet?” An IUD? I gripped my medical chart so tightly my knuckles turned white. Impossible. I had severe infertility issues. Over the past seven years, I had poured tens of thousands of dollars into treatments and endured endless physical and emotional torture just to try and get pregnant. “Doctor, are you sure you didn’t misread the scan?” The doctor turned his monitor toward me and tapped his pen against a distinct shadow on the imaging. “Look right here. See this? How do you forget that you had an IUD inserted?” I stared dead at the screen, my fingertips trembling uncontrollably. Forgot? I never had one put in! For seven long years, my mother-in-law had pointed her finger in my face, calling me a “barren bitch,” and I had swallowed every ounce of that humiliation. Looking at that contraceptive device—something that had absolutely no business being inside my body… I finally realized the truth. It wasn’t that I couldn’t conceive. It was that someone had deliberately ensured that I wouldn’t! … Staring at the shadow on the screen, my hand instinctively drifted to my lower abdomen. Seven years ago, right after we got married, we went in for pre-pregnancy checkups. That was when I was diagnosed with a “hostile reproductive environment” and a small ovarian cyst. I remember looking at David in an absolute panic. He had held me gently, whispering words of comfort. “Baby, don’t be scared. We’ll get the surgery to remove the cyst first. I’ll be by your side the whole time.” For the next seven years, David accompanied me in and out of that hospital countless times. I snapped back to reality and looked at the ER doctor, asking him to remove the IUD during the appendectomy. After the surgery, as I lay in the recovery room, I got a phone call from David. “Emily, where are you? Why was your phone going straight to voicemail?” “I’m at the hospital. I just had surgery.” I kept my voice low. On the other end of the line, I heard genuine panic in his voice. “Hospital? Which hospital?!” Seemingly realizing he had overreacted, he quickly changed his tone. “Baby, what surgery? Are you feeling sick?” I couldn’t even begin to describe the storm of emotions inside me. I gave him a brief, vague answer and hung up the phone. Moments later, the door to my recovery room burst open, and David hurried in. “An appendectomy? Why didn’t you go to St. Jude’s? My Uncle Frank is the Chief of Surgery there, he could have made sure you were taken care of.” As he spoke, his eyes darted over my face, carefully observing my expression. I clenched the small copper IUD hidden in my palm. Without letting my mask slip, I offered him a weak smile. “It hurt too much. This hospital was closer.” My mother-in-law, Martha, pushed the door open just in time to hear my answer. She immediately started loudly complaining. “It’s just appendicitis, how much could it possibly hurt? If you can’t even handle this, you’d never survive childbirth.” “Oh, right. Assuming you can even have kids, which is highly doubtful.” “Mom, say less. Emily just got out of surgery, she’s not feeling well.” David poured me a glass of water. Once he was satisfied that I hadn’t discovered the truth about the IUD, he was already in a rush to leave. “Baby, the company has been struggling lately, I have to get back to the office. I’ll leave Mom here to take care of you.” I nodded, watching his back disappear into the hallway. “I don’t have the time or energy to wait on a barren hen,” Martha sneered. She turned on her heel and left as well. The hospital room fell quiet again. I let out a long, heavy sigh. Three days later, I was discharged. During those three days, the number of times David and Martha visited could be counted on one hand. It was the nurses who took pity on me and helped me out. I didn’t go home. Instead, I drove straight to St. Jude’s Hospital, where Uncle Frank worked, and where I had supposedly gotten my cyst removed. After confirming that Uncle Frank had the day off, I walked over to the Medical Records department. The nurse quickly pulled up my file. I flipped through the pages, one by one. Over seven years, we had spent nearly a hundred thousand dollars on exams, experimental medications, and IVF rounds. Yet, this file only contained a few sparse pages of standard, normal physical reports. I flipped back to the very first page. The surgical record from seven years ago clearly stated it was not a cyst removal—it was a surgical sterilization via IUD insertion! My hands shook uncontrollably. The irony was suffocating. Seven years of absolute torment. Seven years of crushing guilt. And it turned out that I had been artificially, maliciously stripped of my right to be a mother. I pulled my lips into a bitter smile, but the tears spilled over my eyelashes. After a long time, I wiped my eyes and pulled out my phone, ready to take photos of the evidence. That was when I noticed that the page requiring the “Family Consent Signature” was entirely missing from the file. I didn’t alert the hospital staff. I closed the folder, politely thanked the nurse, and walked out. The second I left the building, I called my old college friend, Ethan, who now worked at the State Department of Health. I explained the situation. He agreed to help immediately and told me to give him a few minutes. Shortly after, my phone rang. “Emily, I found the missing signature page. I just emailed it to you.” “Okay. Thank you.” Ethan hesitated for a second before speaking again. “Your husband scrubbed his digital medical footprint incredibly thoroughly. I got curious, so I ran his Social Security Number through our dependent registry.” “I found something. I attached it to the email as well. You…” “You need to brace yourself, Emily. If you need anything, call me anytime.” “I will…” I walked over to a bench by the street, sat down, and opened my email. The first image was the missing consent form. The signature on the bottom line was David’s. Even though I fully expected it, the confirmation still felt like a knife to the chest. David’s patient, comforting voice from seven years ago echoed in my ears. What was going through his head at that exact moment? Did he feel even a shred of pity for me? Or was he laughing at how gullible I was? I clicked on the second attachment. It was a birth certificate. My heart seized with sharp, stabbing pains. I looked at the box labeled “Father.” It was David. I compared the signatures on the two documents. They were completely, perfectly identical. One signature was the blade that severed my right to be a mother. The other was the signature that crowned him a father. Tears poured down my face unconditionally. A volcanic hatred shattered through my heart. I sat on that bench for a very long time before finally driving home. Martha was on the sofa watching TV. The moment she saw me walk in, she ordered me to go to the kitchen and cook dinner. Because I believed I couldn’t give them a child, I had always carried a deep sense of guilt. In the past, I would have dragged myself to the stove even with a 104-degree fever. But this time, I flatly refused. Seeing that I wouldn’t obey her, Martha immediately threw herself in front of my late father-in-law’s memorial picture and started wailing. She sobbed about how I was ending the family bloodline, and how her son refused to listen to her and divorce me. For seven years, I had listened to this exact performance on repeat. Every single time, I had felt incredibly guilty, while simultaneously feeling deeply grateful that my husband hadn’t abandoned me. Now, watching her theatrical display, I suddenly wondered: Did she know she had a big, healthy grandson living out there somewhere? I must have been staring at her too intensely, because she suddenly couldn’t keep up the fake crying. She picked up her phone and called my husband instead. I ignored her, turned around, and walked into our bedroom. I searched the room meticulously, but I couldn’t find a single medical record from any of my past checkups. I had gone through IVF three times, and failed every time. Whenever I asked to look at the medical files, David always refused, claiming he was keeping them from me so I wouldn’t get depressed. Back then, I believed him and was actually moved by his protectiveness. Looking back now, it was nothing but a sick joke. I lay in bed with my eyes closed, completely drained of all energy. A little while later, David pushed the door open. He walked over to me naturally, leaning down to kiss my cheek. I turned my head to dodge it. He didn’t seem to mind. “Baby, are you feeling better? Come on, let’s go eat.” He reached out his hand to pull me up. Looking at the hand extended toward me, I had a sudden, violent urge to scream the truth in his face. But I couldn’t. I still hadn’t investigated everything completely. I couldn’t afford to tip my hand. I submissively placed my hand in his, letting him pull me out of the room. After dinner, David crouched down in front of me, his eyes brimming with absolute devotion. “Baby, you just had surgery. I really didn’t want to lay this on you, but the company just can’t hold on anymore.” “What happened?” I played along, asking the right questions. “Our competitors teamed up to cut off our supply chains. The banks are recalling our loans. The company is on the verge of bankruptcy.” Before I could even respond, Martha started screaming from the living room. “Why are the banks recalling the loans?! Because you can’t give him a child, that’s why!” “Mom, this has nothing to do with Emily.” He turned his gaze back to me. “The banks ran a risk assessment. Because I don’t have a legal heir, they view the company as high-risk. The second there was a hiccup, they recalled the loans. Baby, this company is our life’s work. I don’t want us to go bankrupt.” Right. This company was entirely bankrolled by my father to give David a startup. When he incorporated the company, he immediately transferred 80% of the shares to my name, which was why I had never, ever doubted him all these years. “If you don’t have an heir, then just adopt one! A living person isn’t going to let themselves suffocate just because they can’t find a bathroom!” Martha’s booming voice echoed through the house again. “She’s right, baby. Can we adopt a child from the foster system for now? If we have a kid on paper, the banks will resume our credit lines.” His eyes were filled with pleading and choreographed pain, but I didn’t believe a single word anymore. “I’m tired,” I said, lowering my eyes. “Okay. You rest first, baby. We can talk about this later. I’ll try to think of another way.” 2 For the next few days, David stayed home, drinking whiskey and acting like a man drowning his sorrows, while I secretly investigated the company’s financial status. One day, David didn’t drink. He left the house early in the morning. I received a message from the private investigator I had hired. It contained irrefutable evidence that David was actively tunneling assets out of the company. I held onto the evidence, waiting for him to come home so I could put the divorce papers on the table. That afternoon, David returned. “Baby! I figured out a way to solve the company crisis!” His excited voice interrupted the divorce demand I was about to drop. “I have a distant cousin who recently died in a car crash. He left behind a widow and a young son. The widow can’t afford to raise him, and she’s willing to let us legally adopt him.” “Oh, thank the Lord! Little Noah is related to our family by blood anyway, so this perfectly continues the family name!” Martha was practically cheering from the sidelines. Noah? That name triggered my memory. “What’s the widow’s name?” “Jessica.” I pulled the corners of my mouth into a cold smile. Jessica. That was the mother’s name listed on the secret birth certificate. “What do you think, baby? We adopt the boy, host a massive Welcome Home banquet, and solve the company’s financial crisis first.” “If we manage to have our own biological child later, the company will still go to our flesh and blood.” “Sure.” I nodded. A Welcome Home banquet was a fantastic idea. The more people, the better. I gripped the evidence folder in my hands tightly. The day before the banquet, David brought the “widow” and her child to the house. The moment Jessica walked through the door, she yanked the little boy to his knees. “Hurry up, get on your knees and thank your Auntie! Thanks to her taking you in, she is going to be your new mommy.” “I won’t kneel! I don’t want a new mommy!” Noah screamed and thrashed, lunging forward to hit me. He clawed at my arms, leaving deep red scratches. David was busy helping Jessica up from the floor. “Emily, Jessica is graciously giving you her son. Even if you aren’t grateful, you shouldn’t make her kneel.” Jessica leaned weakly against David’s chest. “It’s fine, David. As long as you both treat Noah well, that’s all that matters.” Unable to dodge in time, I was shoved hard to the floor by Noah. With a sharp crack, the jade bracelet on my wrist shattered against the tile. It was the heirloom my late mother had left me. With bloodshot eyes, I reached out and slapped the brat across the face. David instantly pulled Noah behind his back. “Emily! Are you insane?! Why are you fighting with a child?!” “He broke the bracelet my mother left me!” A brief flash of guilt crossed his eyes, but it vanished instantly. “If it’s broken, it’s broken! I’ll buy you the exact same one in a few days!” David brushed me off, fussing over Noah’s red cheek. But he had conveniently forgotten that when he proposed to me, he had held that exact jade bracelet and sworn to my mother’s memory that he would protect me for the rest of my life! At dinner, Noah hoarded all the best food onto his own plate and openly spit into my food. David and Martha turned a blind eye to it. The four of them sat there laughing and joking like a perfect, happy family, making me look like the hired help. After dinner, David brought a legal document to me. “Baby, to get Noah enrolled in the local school district, I need to use your downtown condo as proof of residency.” “Just sign here, so we can get his paperwork finalized.” I took the document and tried to flip to the previous pages to read the fine print. David clamped his hand down over mine. “Baby, do you still not trust me? Just sign the signature line.” The old me would have never questioned anything he did, but now… “Are you absolutely certain this document is only to prove residency for his school?” Standing directly in the field of view of the hidden nanny cam I had installed, I asked the question loudly and clearly. “Relax, baby. When have I ever lied to you?” Watching his greedy, triumphant expression, I lowered my head and signed, immediately saving that specific clip of footage to the secure cloud. That afternoon, when I logged back into the camera feed, that entire segment of footage had been permanently deleted. That night, Noah threw a tantrum, demanding to sleep in the master bedroom with David. David looked at me, pretending to be conflicted. “Baby, Noah is still little. Can you sleep on the couch tonight? Just for one night.” I didn’t even wait for him to finish before turning and walking away. That bed disgusted me anyway. In the middle of the night, I got up to use the bathroom. As I passed the guest bedroom, I heard David and Jessica moaning inside. “Husband, when can we finally be together openly?” “Soon. I’ve tunneled almost all the company’s assets out. Once the adoption is finalized and I get the deed to the condo, I can divorce her.” David laughed darkly. “My mom can’t wait either. She’s been dying to hold her real grandson in public.” I clenched my fists in the dark. Since this was how they wanted to play it, they couldn’t blame me for being ruthless. 3 We arrived at the banquet hall, getting out of the car and walking toward the entrance. Noah violently shoved me aside and grabbed David’s hand. “I want to walk in with my mommy and daddy!” He flashed me a provocative, mocking grin. David just patted his head indulgently. “Baby, he’s just a kid who doesn’t know any better. Don’t take it personally. We’re going to head inside first.” I stood under the blistering sun, watching the backs of their “happy family of three.” It was the ultimate, sickening irony. I walked into the grand hall. Distant acquaintances who didn’t know the truth came up to offer their congratulations. “Mr. Miller, this must be your wife and son! What a beautiful family, and the boy looks so sharp.” Jessica smiled gracefully and thanked them, while David just smiled and said nothing. Martha was standing to the side, grinning from ear to ear, displaying a grandmotherly warmth I had never seen her direct at me. But the moment she caught sight of me, her smile vanished. “Why are you just standing there like a statue? You’re in the way. If you aren’t doing anything, go grab some trays and help the servers.” I didn’t move. “Go! You can’t even give us a child, all you do is cause trouble. If you won’t help, get out.” I gripped the evidence in my hand tightly, repeating a mantra in my head: Just endure it a little longer. Not everyone is here yet. A show needs a full audience to be entertaining. I silently picked up a tray of appetizers. As I walked past Jessica, she subtly stuck her foot out and tripped me. The scalding hot food spilled directly onto me. But Jessica was the one who let out a blood-curdling shriek, clutching her wrist where a few drops of broth had landed. “David, it hurts so much!” David rushed over instantly, blowing on Jessica’s arm with exaggerated heartbreak. “Emily, why are you always so careless?!” “Come on, let’s go run this under cold water.” He shot me a look of pure disgust, frowning deeply. “Go change your clothes immediately. The banquet is about to start. Try not to be so clumsy next time.” I ignored the dozens of judgmental stares from the crowd. I endured the burning pain on my skin and walked toward the restroom. Just wait. Just wait a little longer. You two are going straight to hell. By the time I changed into my backup dress and returned to the hall, the banquet was officially underway. David was standing on the stage, delivering his speech. “I want to thank you all so much for coming to this Welcome Home banquet. As many of you know, due to my wife’s… medical complications… we have been unable to have children since we got married.” The crowd cast sympathetic looks in my direction. I kept my head down and said nothing. “The arrival of little Noah is a gift from God. He will be our future, and my successor.” “Everything I own will one day belong to him.” Thunderous applause erupted from the audience. Someone handed David a massive bouquet of red roses. David took them, dropped to one knee, and presented them to Jessica. “Thank you so much for bringing this child into the world. You are welcome to visit him anytime, and he will always know who you are.” Jessica blushed deeply, accepting the roses with a demure smile. The applause grew even louder. Watching their interaction on stage, I felt a bizarre wave of disorientation. It didn’t feel like an adoption banquet; it felt like I was attending their wedding reception. Jessica shot a subtle look to the MC, who immediately turned his attention to me. “Ms. Emily, how does it feel to suddenly be gifted a wonderful, grown son?” David followed the MC’s gaze, looking at me with feigned impatience. “The lucky hour is almost here. Come on up to the stage.” I took slow, deliberate steps toward the stage. David leaned in and muttered instructions under his breath. “Jessica is gifting you a child. You need to show some profound gratitude.” “Now that we have a son, you need to put him first. You can’t act as selfishly as you used to.” “You don’t have any experience raising kids. Make sure you ask Jessica for advice…” Hearing that, I let out a cold laugh. I stepped up, violently snatched the microphone right out of his hand, and looked out at the sea of faces. “Ask for advice?” I enunciated every single word. “I don’t think that will be necessary. I will be having my own children.” “But I’m sure everyone in this room would be incredibly interested to know the real reason why I haven’t been able to get pregnant for the past seven years!!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “400811”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

When I was five years old, I was adopted from the foster system by the wealthy Montgomery family. My sole purpose was to be a companion for their only daughter, Chloe. The very first time Chloe saw me, she grabbed her best friend, Liam, by the hand, ran over, and split her candy in half with me. From that day on, the three of us became an inseparable trio. The “Iron Triangle.” Until the summer after high school graduation, when I finally accepted Liam’s confession of love. After that, Chloe quietly applied to a college three thousand miles away. The night before she was supposed to leave, she went to a bar to drink away her sorrow. She was dragged into a dark alley and brutally assaulted until she died. Liam and I lived the rest of our lives carrying an unbearable, suffocating guilt. When I turned forty, I was diagnosed with ALS (Lou Gehrig’s disease). The night before I died, Liam held my rapidly deteriorating body, sobbing so hard he shook. “Anna, I love you. I have always loved you.” “But if there is a next life, I have to protect Chloe. I absolutely cannot let anything happen to her ever again.” When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the exact day Liam was planning to ask me out. Inside the karaoke room, our classmates were screaming into the microphones, beer bottles clinking loudly against the glass tables. Liam and Chloe were missing. The horrific image of Chloe’s mutilated body in that dark alley flashed violently through my mind. My hands trembled as I pulled out my phone and texted her. “Chloe, I’m not feeling well, so I headed home early. Please come home soon.” I grabbed my purse, muttered an excuse to the person sitting next to me, and practically ran out the door. Standing in the elevator, I leaned against the metal wall, tears streaming uncontrollably down my face. In this life, I absolutely will not let history repeat itself! When I got back to the Montgomery estate, it was dead silent. Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery were already asleep. I tiptoed upstairs. As I passed Chloe’s room, I saw the door was slightly ajar. Sitting on her desk was a framed photo of the three of us from elementary school. Tears fell before I could stop them. In my previous life, I had been so wrapped up in the joy of accepting Liam’s confession. I completely failed to notice Chloe’s forced smiles and her shattered heart. Later, when it was time to submit our college applications, Chloe secretly chose a university in freezing, remote Alaska. The night before she left, she went to that bar. When we finally found her, she was lying in that damp, foul-smelling alley. She looked like a ragdoll that had been torn to pieces. There wasn’t a single patch of untouched skin on her body. The bruises, the lacerations, and the lingering terror and absolute despair in her dilated, lifeless eyes… it became a nightmare that Liam and I could never, ever escape. We stayed together, bound by our massive, shared guilt, trying to keep each other warm while simultaneously torturing each other. Until I was diagnosed with ALS, my body slowly freezing into a living corpse. The night before I passed away, he held me, his scalding tears dropping onto my neck. He said: “Anna, if there is a next life… I have to guard Chloe properly. I can never let anything happen to her again.” … My breath hitched violently, a sharp pain seizing my chest. The tragedy of our past life will absolutely not happen again. I went back to my room and didn’t sleep a wink all night. The next day, the angry, questioning phone call I expected from Liam never came. My iMessage and texts were completely silent. According to the timeline of my past life, after I ghosted his meticulously planned confession, given his personality, he should have stormed over to demand an explanation immediately. I opened my phone and saw a few scattered messages in our class group chat. “Liam has been hanging out with Chloe all day today!” “Yeah! They’re inseparable. Didn’t he act super mysterious yesterday, saying he was going to do something huge?” “And Liam is acting incredibly protective of her today.” “Do you think there’s something going on between them?” My confusion deepened. I put my phone down and went downstairs to get a glass of water. I saw Liam and Chloe sitting in the living room. Chloe was laughing, talking to him while peeling an orange and popping a slice directly into his mouth. Liam didn’t pull away. His gaze was entirely focused on her. When Chloe shifted slightly to the left, his eyes tracked her immediately. Seeing Chloe so vibrant and alive, a wave of intense emotion washed over me. I walked over, clutching my water glass. “Chloe.” She looked up, her smile radiant. “Anna! Come here! The oranges Liam bought are so sweet!” I was just about to sit down when someone suddenly grabbed my arm. Liam yanked me around the corner into the hallway, pinning me aggressively against the wall. He gripped my shoulders so hard it hurt. He stared at me, his eyes bloodshot, his voice dropped to a lethal whisper: “Anna. Stay away from Chloe.” I froze. He continued, “Stay away from me, too. It’s better for all three of us this way.” His eyes were a storm of regret, self-blame, and a complex, indescribable agony. I stared at him, stunned. In a fraction of a second, all the missing pieces connected, exploding in my mind! Liam. He had been reborn too. After that day, I became the sole target of Liam’s “special attention.” As long as I came within ten feet of Chloe, he would materialize instantly, physically wedging himself between us. If I went to the kitchen for water and passed through the living room where she was, his entire body would tense up. If I took three steps toward her, he would immediately stand up. One time, Chloe was standing on a dining chair, trying to reach a photo album on the top shelf of a cabinet. I reached out to help her. Before my hand could even touch hers, Liam lunged forward and roughly swatted my arm away. “I’ve got it.” He shoved my arm so hard I stumbled back two steps. Chloe glared at him. “What is your problem?! Why are you being so mean to Anna?!” He didn’t explain. He just pulled the album down and handed it to her. Chloe turned to me, offering a sweet, apologetic smile. “Just ignore him. He’s been acting like he ate a bowl of gunpowder lately.” With that, she pulled a piece of chocolate from her pocket and shoved it into my hand. “Liam bought it! We can split it! What’s mine is yours~” The chocolate still carried the warmth of her palm. I clutched it tight, my nose stinging with unshed tears. When we were little kids, this was exactly how she had shared her candy with me. But I knew I couldn’t get close to them anymore. I stopped participating in any activities that involved the two of them. Chloe invited me out ten times, and I rejected her ten times. My excuses ranged from being lazy, to having a headache, to needing to study at the library. She finally realized something was wrong. That weekend, she forcibly “arrested” me and dragged me to a dessert shop. Liam followed closely behind, his face dark as a thundercloud. Chloe aggressively scooped her mango shaved ice, her eyes full of worry. “Anna, seriously, what is going on with you?” “The three of us haven’t hung out together in forever. Did you… get into a fight with Liam?” I stirred the boba in my milk tea, unable to look her in the eye. “No. I’m just… the SAT scores are coming out soon, and I’m really anxious.” I tried to change the subject, acting as casual as possible. “Have you thought about which colleges you’re applying to?” “Honestly, the local State University is great. It’s close to home, and their programs are strong. If you go too far away, your parents will worry.” The moment those words left my mouth, Liam, who had been completely silent across the table, snapped his head up. His voice was ice cold. “Staying close to home isn’t always a good thing. Sometimes, the further away certain people are, the better it is for everyone.” The implication was glaringly obvious. He wasn’t even trying to hide it. Chloe froze, then lightly shoved his shoulder. “Liam! Watch your tone! Why are you acting like such a jerk?!” She turned back to me, offering a comforting smile. “Anna, seriously, ignore him. He forgot to take his meds today.” Watching Chloe aggressively defend me, my heart felt simultaneously warm and agonizingly broken. Late that night, I curled up in bed, and a flood of beautiful memories crashed over me. At six years old, some neighborhood kids mocked me for being an orphan. Liam and Chloe teamed up and beat them until they cried. At twelve, when I had a high fever, they skipped class, climbed the school fence, and bought me hot soup. At fifteen, sitting on the roof, we screamed at the stars, promising to be “best friends for life.” … All that kindness… it was real. But now, the cautious, disgusted look in Liam’s eyes when he looked at me… that was real, too. The day before the college application portal opened, Chloe and I sat on the swings in the neighborhood park, swaying gently. The setting sun stretched our shadows long across the grass. I hesitated for a long time before finally speaking up. “Chloe, no matter what happens in the future… please, never go to a bar or a club by yourself. It’s not safe.” “If you’re ever feeling upset or depressed, you can call me anytime, okay?” Chloe blinked, then burst out laughing. “Okay, okay, Mom! I don’t even like those loud, annoying places anyway!” I was just about to breathe a sigh of relief when a voice, vibrating with suppressed rage, echoed from behind us. “Anna. Evans.” I didn’t know when Liam had arrived, but he was standing a few yards away, his face looking absolutely murderous. He took long, aggressive strides toward us, grabbed Chloe by the arm, and yanked her off the swing. “We’re leaving.” “Liam, what is your problem?! I’m talking to Anna!” “There’s nothing left to talk about.” Liam dragged her away, shooting a warning glare over his shoulder at me that was thick with venom. “Anna. Stop trying to brainwash Chloe with your cryptic bullshit.” As Chloe was being dragged away, she kept looking back, shooting me confused and apologetic looks. I stood rooted to the spot, watching their silhouettes shrink in the distance, unmoving, until my entire body felt freezing cold. When it was finally time to submit our college applications, I sat right in front of Chloe and Liam and selected the exact same local State University as them. Chloe cheered in excitement. Liam stared at me, his eyes dark and unreadable, but he didn’t say anything else. What they didn’t know was that later that same night, I opened my laptop. I submitted applications to several prestigious universities overseas, and then I spent hours researching the early-onset symptoms of ALS. That weekend, Mrs. Montgomery cooked a massive, elaborate dinner and specifically invited Liam to stay. At the dining table, Mrs. Montgomery kept putting the best cuts of meat onto Liam’s plate, smiling so hard she couldn’t close her mouth. “Liam, eat up. We really appreciate you spending so much time with Chloe lately. This girl has been smiling like a fool all week.” She then shot me a loving look. “In this house, both Chloe and Anna are my precious girls.” Chloe giggled. “Mom, you’re being so cheesy!” Mr. Montgomery chuckled warmly. “Liam is a solid, reliable kid. Knowing he’s looking out for you gives us incredible peace of mind.” The atmosphere at the table was incredibly warm and domestic. Chloe chattered non-stop about her college plans, while Liam offered occasional, quiet agreements. I ate my food silently. It tasted like ash in my mouth. Mrs. Montgomery looked at Liam and Chloe sitting side-by-side, suddenly letting out a soft sigh. “You know, I never really thought about it before, but looking at you two now… Liam and our Chloe really are a perfect match. You look so good together.” The moment the words landed, the entire dining room fell dead silent. Chloe’s face instantly flushed a dark, brilliant red. She stole a shy glance at Liam. Liam didn’t look up from his plate, but he didn’t deny it, either. Mrs. Montgomery then scooped a bowl of soup for me. “And Anna too. I know you’ll find a wonderful man who will love and cherish you.” I took the bowl. My fingertips were ice cold, but I forced a perfectly shy smile onto my face. “Thank you, Mom.” After dinner, I cleared the table and went into the kitchen to wash the dishes. Just as I turned on the faucet, I heard footsteps behind me. Liam stood in the doorway, dropping his voice to a harsh whisper. “Anna. Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery just want what’s best for Chloe. They saved you from the foster system. You owe them a massive debt of gratitude.” My heart began to sink, inch by inch. “I logged into the portal and changed your college application. You’re going to the University of Alaska. It’s far away from here. It’s better for you.” The water rushed loudly into the sink. I gripped the ceramic bowl in my hands tightly. He was right. Being far away from here was better for me. But hearing those words come out of his mouth still felt like a jagged knife twisting in my chest. I turned off the water and turned around to face him. “Okay.” He froze for a second. He probably hadn’t expected me to agree so easily. I dried my hands and walked past him. “Liam, protect Chloe. I won’t come near either of you ever again.” He opened his mouth, but no words came out. That night, an email notification lit up my screen. It was an acceptance letter from a top-tier university overseas. Attached was also an invitation to participate in a cutting-edge clinical research program focusing on early intervention for neurodegenerative diseases. I stared at the screen for a very long time before finally knocking on Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery’s bedroom door. I showed them the acceptance letter on my phone. Mrs. Montgomery gasped. “Anna, you want to study abroad?” I nodded. “I want to see the world.” Mr. Montgomery was silent for a moment before asking, “Do Liam and Chloe know?” I shook my head. “Could you… please not tell them just yet?” “I’m afraid they’ll try to stop me. You know how Chloe is; she’ll definitely try to make me stay.” Mrs. Montgomery sighed heavily and gently stroked my hair. “Silly girl. If you want to fly, then fly. We’ll help you keep it a secret from Chloe.” My eyes burned with tears. I dropped to my knees and bowed my head deeply to them. “Thank you, Dad. Thank you, Mom.” Mr. Montgomery pulled me up, his own eyes red. “We’re family. You never have to thank us.” The next day, I booked my flight. The departure date was three days after Chloe’s birthday. Two days before her birthday, I went up to the roof to bring in the laundry. Down in the garden below, Liam and Chloe were sitting together on a bench. Chloe seemed a bit sleepy, her head nodding slightly. And then, her head gently came to rest on Liam’s shoulder. Liam’s body went completely rigid for a fraction of a second. But he didn’t push her away. He slowly lifted his hand and gently stroked her hair. I turned around, my eyes stinging painfully. As soon as I walked back inside, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Chloe: “Anna! Liam is taking me to the amusement park tomorrow! Do you think he’s going to…” Before I could finish typing a reply, she sent a rapid-fire string of blushing emojis. I typed: “He definitely likes you.” She replied instantly: “Really?!?!?!” “Really.” That night, Chloe came into my room and refused to leave my bed. “Anna, honestly, I used to think he liked you. I secretly cried about it so many times.” I turned my head to look at her. She continued, “But I really hate how mean he’s being to you lately. I’ve yelled at him about it so many times, but he never listens.” I smiled softly. “It’s okay. How he treats me doesn’t matter. As long as he treats you well, that’s enough.” “Of course it matters! You’re my best friend! What gives him the right to be mean to you?!” I didn’t say anything. I just pulled her into a hug. Chloe, you don’t know. He’s mean to me because he’s trying to protect you. On Chloe’s birthday, the Montgomerys hosted a small, intimate party at the house. Liam’s entire family was there. Mrs. Montgomery held Chloe’s hand in one of hers, and Liam’s hand in the other. Tears welled in her eyes, but her smile was overwhelmingly joyful. “Seeing you two so happy together… as parents, it’s the greatest comfort we could ever ask for.” I stood on the outskirts of the crowd, watching Chloe’s face flush bright red. Suddenly, she stood up. “Liam, I… I have something to tell you.” The entire room went dead silent. She took a deep breath. “I like you. I’ve liked you since we were kids. Will you… will you be my boyfriend?” Liam stared at her. The seconds ticked by agonizingly slowly. The hopeful light in Chloe’s eyes began to dim with every passing moment of his silence. Just as she was about to burst into tears… Liam closed his eyes for a second, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Then, very slightly, but undeniably, he nodded. He said, “Yes.” The room erupted into cheers. Mrs. Montgomery cried tears of joy, covering her mouth. Liam’s parents were grinning from ear to ear. Chloe launched herself like a joyful little bird straight into Liam’s arms, hugging him fiercely. Liam’s arms hovered in the air for a moment, before slowly, securely wrapping around her. He lowered his head and gently kissed the crown of her hair. I stood hidden in the shadows near the doorway, quietly watching this perfect, happy scene unfold. The warm glow of the candles illuminated every smiling face. I thought back to my previous life. I thought of his scalding tears, and the words he had forced out with the last ounce of his strength: “If there is a next life… I have to protect Chloe properly.” Liam. In this life… you did it. I quietly turned around and walked back to my room. I placed the gift I had prepared on Chloe’s desk. It was a glass jar, filled with hundreds of origami stars I had spent the last week folding. Inside every single star, I had written the exact same sentence. “Chloe, be happy.” I rolled my suitcase down the stairs. The party in the living room was still loud and vibrant. No one noticed me. The taxi was waiting outside the gate. I got in. Closed the door. The airport. The security line. The boarding gate. My phone buzzed. A text from Chloe: “Anna!!! Where did you go?! I looked all over the house for you! Mom said you went out to buy me a present?” “Hurry back! Liam gave me a necklace, it’s so beautiful! I want to show you as soon as you get home!” I typed: “That’s wonderful. I’m so happy for you.” I powered the phone off. The plane taxied down the runway and lifted into the air. Outside the window, the lights of the city grew further and further away. I leaned my head against the seat and closed my eyes. Memories flashed through my mind like a movie reel. At five years old, Chloe grabbing Liam’s hand and splitting her candy with me. At fifteen, eating popsicles on the roof, promising to be best friends forever. At eighteen, the brilliant light in Liam’s eyes when he confessed his love to me. And in my past life… the sterile white hospital room, him holding my freezing, dying body, his tears burning my skin. “If there is a next life…” Finally, the reel stopped on tonight. In the flickering candlelight, him nodding and saying “Yes.” Chloe throwing herself into his arms, her smile absolute perfection. The tears I had held back for so long finally, uncontrollably, flooded down my face. In the quiet cabin of the airplane, no one noticed. Goodbye, Liam. Goodbye, Chloe. I hope that in this life, the two most precious people I have ever known get everything they ever wanted. I hope you stay safe, happy, and grow old together. As for my battle… it lies thousands of miles away in a foreign country, fighting against a body that is destined to betray me.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “400796”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The results of my pre-employment physical finally came back. Under “Blood Type,” it clearly stated: O. I dug out my birth certificate and medical records from when I was a kid. There it was in black and white: Type B. I called my mom, and she just laughed it off. “Oh, the person who filled out the paperwork back then probably just made a typo. It’s no big deal.” I wasn’t convinced. I went to a different hospital and paid for another blood test. Still Type O. My dad is Type A. My mom is Type B. My high school biology teacher taught us that this specific combination can produce a Type O child, but it’s incredibly rare. Both parents must carry the recessive O gene. I stood in front of my mom holding both lab reports. She took them and glanced at the paper. But her eyes didn’t stay on the results. They immediately darted past me, looking over my shoulder. She was checking to see if I had brought anyone home with me. A sudden, icy chill shot up my spine. “Mom, what are you looking at?” She shoved the reports back into my hands, her tone a little too cheerful, a little too forced. “Just looking to see if you finally brought a boyfriend home, that’s all!” She laughed and turned to walk into the kitchen. But I saw her hand gripping the doorframe. Her knuckles were bone white. The smell of cooking oil and garlic began drifting from the kitchen. My mom, Martha’s, voice carried over the roar of the exhaust fan. “Chloe, don’t just stand there spacing out! Go tell your sister dinner is ready.” I folded the medical reports, shoved them deep into my purse, walked upstairs, and knocked on Mia’s door. “Mia, dinner.” “Yeah, yeah, hold on a sec!” I could hear the loud, obnoxious sound of TikTok videos blasting from inside. I stood in the hallway. On my left was Mia’s room. A spacious master suite, south-facing, with a custom bay window covered in plush pink cushions. On my right was my room. Barely eighty square feet. It used to be a storage closet. The single tiny window faced the brick wall of the neighbor’s house. It had been this way since we were kids. I was used to it. At the dinner table, the massive plate of BBQ ribs was placed directly in front of Mia. In front of me was a small plate of cheap, stir-fried potatoes. Mia picked up a rib, chewed it twice, and immediately frowned in disgust. “Mom, these ribs are super tough today.” “I left the heat on too high,” Mom replied instantly, eager to please. “I’ll slow-roast them longer for you next time.” My dad, Frank, sat at the head of the table, his chopsticks moving rhythmically between the meat and the side dishes. I kept my head down, mechanically shoveling rice into my mouth. My brain was screaming, completely consumed by those two blood test reports. Type O. Both tests said Type O. I swallowed a mouthful of rice and forced my voice to sound as casual as possible. “Dad, you’re Type A, right?” His chopsticks stopped in mid-air. It was a fraction of a second. If I hadn’t been staring directly at his hand, I never would have noticed. “Yeah, Type A.” “Can a Type A and a Type B have a Type O child?” The dinner table went completely dead silent for two seconds. “Of course they can!” Mom jumped in, answering before he could. “Anything is possible. Stop reading all that nonsense on the internet.” “But my biology teacher said—” “Are teachers always right?” Mom slammed her chopsticks down, flashing a perfectly natural smile. “Look at the Johnsons next door. Both parents have brown eyes, and their kid has blue eyes! Genetics are crazy, you can’t predict them.” Having delivered her expert scientific analysis, she picked up a prime, meaty rib and dropped it onto Mia’s plate. “Eat up, Mia. The cafeteria food at your college is absolute garbage. You need the protein.” Mia was a senior at a private university. Her tuition was forty thousand dollars a year. Adding in her lavish living expenses, she easily burned through six grand a month. As for me? I had been working a corporate job for three years. I made around $4,000 a month, and every single month, I was forced to transfer $2,500 of it directly to my mom. “The household expenses are high, and your sister is still in school. As the older sister, it’s your duty to shoulder the burden.” Those were my mom’s exact words. And I had shouldered that burden for three grueling years. But today, I suddenly desperately wanted to know one thing. What exactly was I to this family? After dinner, I retreated to my eighty-square-foot closet, locked the door, and opened Google on my phone. Can a Type A and Type B parent have a Type O child? A flood of results popped up. Most medical articles stated: Yes, but the probability is low. Both parents must carry the recessive ‘O’ allele for it to happen. So… it was possible. I almost let out a sigh of relief. But then I clicked to the second page of results. A bolded thread title on a forum stabbed me right in the eye. Mismatched blood types don’t necessarily prove anything, but if your mother’s very first reaction is to check if anyone followed you home— The top comment underneath only had one sentence: Then she’s hiding a massive, guilty secret. I dropped my phone face-down onto my mattress. I stared up at the jagged crack in the ceiling, completely paralyzed. That crack had been there for as long as I could remember. Eighteen years. My mom had sworn she would fix it, but she never did. Not once. Meanwhile, the expensive wallpaper in Mia’s bedroom had been replaced three times. The next day at work, the events of last night were still looping violently in my head. The HR rep at my new company handed me my ID badge. “Chloe, Administration Department. You have a 90-day probationary period.” I took the badge. It was my first day at a new job. During lunch, my new coworker, Sarah, sat down across from me in the breakroom. “Chloe, right? I’m in the cubicle next to yours. Let me know if you need anything.” She had a bright, infectious laugh, her eyes crinkling happily. I nodded, tapping my paper cup against hers. “Are you from around here?” she asked. “Yeah, born and raised.” “Oh, that’s awesome! Living at home must save you a ton on rent.” I didn’t respond. Save on rent. I handed over $2,500 a month. I could rent a luxury one-bedroom apartment in the city for less than what I paid to live in a closet. In the afternoon, my mom sent me a text. “When are you transferring this month’s money? Your sister needs to sign up for a GRE prep course next semester. It’s two grand.” I stared at the glowing screen. Two grand. Last winter, I wanted to take a specialized accounting certification course to boost my resume. It was $500. My mom screamed at me for half an hour. “Why the hell are you wasting money on that garbage? You’re not smart enough for school anyway!” I typed out two words: “Got it.” And hit send. Then, I opened a new browser tab. Search query: How to get a private DNA paternity test. The results showed that for a non-legal, personal knowledge test, you only needed to mail in biological samples. Hair follicles, nail clippings, cheek swabs. All acceptable. The parties being tested didn’t even need to be present. Cost: Around $150 to $300. I checked my bank app. After deducting my monthly “tribute” of $2,500 and my bare-bones living expenses, my total life savings sat at exactly $15,000. That $15,000 was the result of three years of eating instant ramen for lunch, walking home in the freezing rain to save bus fare, and only buying clothes off the clearance rack once a year. Every single dollar was scraped together with blood and sweat. My entire life savings from three years of grinding… wasn’t even enough to cover three months of Mia’s college tuition. On Saturday, I made up an excuse to leave the house. My mom was lounging on the sofa watching TV. She didn’t even look up. “Where are you going?” “A coworker asked me to go to the mall.” “Don’t spend money. You barely make anything as it is.” I didn’t answer. I just put on my shoes and walked out the door. Before I left, I had discreetly pulled a few hairs with the root attached from my dad’s hairbrush, sealing them in a plastic bag. I did the same with a few hairs I found on my mom’s bath towel. Along with three of my own hairs, I sealed them all securely in my purse. The DNA testing clinic was located in a sleek, quiet office building downtown. The receptionist handed me a form to fill out. “Standard processing is seven to ten business days. Expedited processing is three days, but there’s an additional rush fee.” “Expedite it,” I said. She glanced up at me. My expression must have looked terrifying. She didn’t ask any questions. She just took my payment and the samples. When I walked out of the clinic, the sun was blindingly bright. I stood on the sidewalk, suddenly realizing I had absolutely no idea where to go. If the results came back normal, then my life would continue as this miserable, gray existence. But if they didn’t… My phone buzzed. It was a voice memo from Mia. “Hey Chloe, can you buy me that new YSL lipstick while you’re out? I’ve been wanting it forever. It’s like forty-five bucks.” Forty-five bucks. Last month, the soles of my only pair of work shoes completely wore through. I spent thirty dollars on a cheap replacement pair from Target, and I felt guilty about spending the money for an entire week. I typed back two words: “Sure thing.” Then I opened Sephora’s website and started browsing shades. For her. The three days waiting for the results felt like I was holding my breath underwater. On the surface, everything looked perfectly normal. Go to work. Come home. Cook dinner. Hand over my paycheck. But every single thing I had accepted as “normal” my entire life began to look incredibly, violently suspicious. Like the photo wall in the living room. I counted them. There were fourteen photos framed on the wall. Mia was the sole focus of eleven of them. I was in exactly two. They were group shots, and I was shoved to the very edge of the frame. The last one was a family portrait. It was taken when I was twelve, at a cheap mall photo studio with a fake blue-sky backdrop. Mia was sitting happily on my mom’s lap, wearing an expensive, frilly pink dress. I was standing awkwardly next to my dad, wearing Mia’s faded, outgrown winter coat from the year before. I stared at that photo for a very long time. In the picture, twelve-year-old me was smiling so hard it looked painful. On the third day, right around noon, my phone vibrated on my desk. A text from the clinic. I took my phone, locked myself in a bathroom stall, and opened the message. “Hello. Your DNA test results are ready. You may pick up the physical copy at our office, or opt to receive a secure electronic report via email.” My thumb clicked “Electronic Report.” The email arrived three minutes later. I opened the PDF and scrolled frantically, bypassing all the scientific jargon, straight to the conclusion on the final page. Probability of Paternity between Subject A (Chloe) and Subject B (Frank): 0%. The tested individuals do not share a biological parent-child relationship. Probability of Maternity between Subject A (Chloe) and Subject C (Martha): 0%. The tested individuals do not share a biological parent-child relationship. Two lines of text. I am not their daughter. Not related to either of them. The central AC in the office building hummed loudly. But I couldn’t hear it anymore. The only sound in the world was my own heartbeat, slamming against my ribs like a sledgehammer against a brick wall. My fingernails dug so deeply into my palms they drew blood. After what felt like an eternity, I closed my email, opened my Excel spreadsheet, and continued doing data entry. Row 138. Row 139. Row 140. My hands were perfectly steady. When I got home that night, the dinner table looked exactly the same as it always did. The expensive meat was placed directly in front of Mia. The cheap, stir-fried potatoes were placed in front of me. My mom cheerfully piled food onto Mia’s plate while talking to me without looking up. “Mia’s GRE prep course is all signed up. You need to transfer an extra $800 this month to cover it.” “Okay.” “Also, let Mia borrow that gray puffer jacket of yours. She’s going out with friends tomorrow and she complains she has nothing to wear.” That jacket was the only new piece of clothing I had bought for myself in the last two years. I bought it on clearance for $80. “It’s in my closet,” I said flatly. Mia immediately jumped up from the table and sprinted upstairs to claim it. My mom nodded approvingly. “That’s exactly how a big sister should act. Generous and accommodating.” I kept my head down, staring at my bowl of rice. If I wasn’t their daughter. Then who the hell was I? After dinner, I waited until the entire house was dead asleep. At 1:00 AM, I stood barefoot in the dark hallway. My parents’ bedroom door was shut tight. I could hear my dad snoring loudly inside. I crept into the living room and approached the heavy, antique wooden cabinet in the corner. I was strictly forbidden from ever touching this cabinet. When I was seven years old, my curiosity got the better of me, and I tried to open it. My mom caught me and beat me black and blue. “These are adult things! What the hell is a kid doing snooping around in here?!” The cabinet was padlocked. The key was hidden in the drawer of my mom’s nightstand. I had seen her put it there earlier this afternoon. But tonight, I didn’t have the key. I crouched down in the dark and pulled a bobby pin from my hair. During my lunch break, my coworker Sarah had shown me a YouTube video on how to pick a basic lock to get into a jammed locker at work. The mechanism on this old padlock was practically identical. Three minutes. Click. The cylinder turned smoothly. I gently pulled the cabinet doors open. Inside, sitting on the bottom shelf, was a rusted metal lockbox covered in a thick layer of dust. The box itself wasn’t locked. I lifted the lid. Inside were a few yellowed, aging documents, a sealed envelope, and a red bank passbook. The document resting on the very top was a legal contract. It was handwritten. The paper was brittle and yellowing at the edges. I turned on my phone’s flashlight, holding it close, and read every single word. [Guardianship and Financial Trust Agreement] Grantor: Eleanor Vance Trustee: Martha Johnson … “Due to terminal illness rendering the Grantor incapable of continued care, the Grantor hereby entrusts the Trustee with the physical custody and guardianship of her biological daughter, until said minor reaches the age of eighteen…” “The Grantor shall transfer all liquid assets, life insurance payouts, and accumulated savings, totaling $450,000 USD, into a designated trust account managed by the Trustee. These funds are legally mandated to be utilized strictly and exclusively for the living expenses, healthcare, and education of the minor child…” “The Trustee legally binds herself to ensure the aforementioned funds are spent solely for the benefit of the minor, Chloe Vance…” My name. In stark black and white. $450,000. Four hundred and fifty thousand dollars. In the year 2000. I crouched in the pitch-black living room, my entire body violently shaking with a freezing, bone-deep cold. I pulled out my phone and photographed the agreement. I photographed the envelope, the bank passbook, and every single piece of paper stacked underneath it. Then, I meticulously put everything back exactly as I found it. The metal box. The wooden cabinet. The padlock. Everything looked entirely untouched. I walked barefoot back to my eighty-square-foot closet. I shut the door. I slid down the doorframe until I was sitting on the floor, hugging my knees to my chest. Four hundred and fifty thousand dollars. All these years. Wearing Mia’s worn-out hand-me-downs. Eating the cheapest garbage in the cafeteria. Eating instant ramen every day to save money. Being extorted for $2,500 every single month. Being told to my face, “You’re not smart enough for school anyway.” Being told, “As the older sister, you need to be generous.” Being told, “The household expenses are high, you need to shoulder the burden.” $450,000. Exactly who had they spent my mother’s money on? I didn’t confront them immediately. Because there was another name written on that contract. Eleanor Vance. My biological mother. For the next few days, I worked my corporate job during the day and frantically scoured the internet at night. I started with the name of the law firm printed on the letterhead of the contract. Sterling & Associates Law Firm. It had been over twenty years. Information online was scarce. I called the number listed in an old digital archive. Disconnected. I searched the state business registry. The firm had officially dissolved in 2015. But the dissolution documents listed the name of one of the founding partners: Arthur Sterling. I searched his name through the State Bar Association database. He was currently practicing at a different, high-profile corporate firm downtown. I saved his office address and direct line. That entire week, I continued transferring my “rent” money to my mom.

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Every year for my birthday, my boyfriend would team up with his childhood best friend to throw me a “surprise.” Last year, they rented out an escape room, claiming it was for my birthday party. I went inside and was locked in there for four hours. Outside, they were watching the security monitors, laughing so hard they couldn’t stand up. Inside, I was shivering uncontrollably from sheer terror. By the time the staff finally pulled me out, my legs were complete jelly. I’ve had severe claustrophobia ever since. Afterward, my boyfriend held me and apologized profusely, swearing he would never do something like that again, promising that this year, he would give me a proper, wonderful birthday. So, when my birthday rolled around this year, and he mysteriously invited me out to a bar… I specifically got my hair blown out, bought a brand new dress, and even busted my ass at work to make sure I could leave early. But the moment I happily pushed open the door to the private VIP room, a bucket of rancid, foul-smelling liquid poured directly onto my head. I stood frozen in the doorway. A thick, sticky red substance dripped down my hair and over my face. It was watered-down ketchup, mixed with crushed eggshells that were now clinging to my bare shoulders. The entire room erupted into exaggerated, booming laughter. “I told you she’d wear a dress tonight! Liam, you lose!” Liam stepped out from the crowd of his friends, holding out a napkin to me, acting exactly like he always did. “You dressed up so nice, too. What a shame.” “I made a bet with the guys on whether you’d wear a dress tonight. I bet you wouldn’t. If I won, I was going to take you out to pick your birthday present. If I lost, you’d have to wait until next year.” “Sorry about that. Since you wore a dress, no present for you this year.” The pungent, sour smell invaded my nose. I stared at him in absolute, dead silence. “So, you did know it was my birthday today?” He laughed, reaching out to playfully ruffle my ruined hair. “Of course I know. We’ve been together for six years, how could I forget?” The foul-smelling liquid dripped steadily down the hem of my dress. In that exact moment, I felt a profound, overwhelming wave of absolute disgust. My birthday was nothing but the punchline to a prank. Just like how my feelings were nothing compared to his childhood best friend. I reached up and unclasped the necklace around my throat. It was the very first birthday gift he had ever given me. “Then let’s break up.” 1 The sound of the delicate necklace hitting the floor was completely drowned out by the roaring laughter in the room. Liam frowned slightly. “Don’t be dramatic. It’s just a little juice. I’ll help you wash it out when we get home. You know how Chloe is, she’s been a prankster since we were kids. Honestly, she went easy on you this time.” “It’s so hard to get everyone together. Don’t make my friends think I’m dating someone who can’t take a joke.” Chloe, his childhood best friend, pouted and sauntered over. “Geez, Chloe, it was just a prank. If you hate it that much, we won’t do it again, okay? Don’t just throw around the word ‘breakup’.” “I told Liam you couldn’t handle it, but he insisted you come. Look what happened.” She huffed and threw herself onto the nearest leather sofa, puffing her cheeks out. Instantly, the gaze of everyone in the room shifted to me, their expressions turning judgmental and knowing. Chloe was the only daughter of a wealthy family in their elite, old-money neighborhood. She grew up pampered, the undeniable princess of their social circle. Whenever she was unhappy, everyone scrambled to coddle her. Liam was no exception. The first time I met her, she organized a game of Mafia. Everyone else drew standard character cards. But when it came to me, she secretly slipped me the ‘Siren’ card, leaned into my ear, and whispered: “When it’s your turn, read the lines for this character. Make sure you act really slutty.” I completely froze. I pushed the card back to her. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Her face instantly dropped. She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Can’t handle a game? Whatever. Forget it.” The way the rest of the group looked at me instantly shifted. I heard someone mutter, “Why is she acting like such a prude?” Liam frowned at me too. “It’s just a game, Chloe. Is this really necessary?” In the end, I didn’t play. I sat alone in a corner drinking soda for the entire night. Meanwhile, Chloe was laughing hysterically, eventually revealing that there was no ‘Siren’ card in the deck—she had just made it up to mess with me. Feeling exhausted by the bullying, I casually remarked that it wasn’t a very fun way to play. Chloe’s eyes instantly welled up with tears, and she ran out of the room crying. The entire group chased after her to comfort her, including Liam. What was supposed to be a welcoming party for me ended with me sitting in an empty room, entirely alone. Liam didn’t say anything about it afterward, but for future gatherings, unless Chloe explicitly gave the green light, he never brought me along. And now, Liam was glaring at me, his brows knitted in frustration. “Chloe, apologize to her.” In the past, just to fit into his world. Just to save him from embarrassment in front of his friends, I would have swallowed my pride. I would have apologized and smoothed things over before he even had to ask. But right now, standing here covered in garbage, I realized that me ending our six-year relationship carried less weight than Chloe experiencing a minor moment of displeasure. I finally understood that, from the very beginning, our entire relationship meant absolutely nothing to Liam compared to his bond with his precious childhood best friend. I reached down and picked up the small clutch I had bought specifically for tonight. I met their judgmental, mocking stares. “Liam, we are done. I mean it. It’s over.” I turned on my heel and walked toward the door, the hem of my dress still dripping sticky red fluid onto the floor. Behind me, I heard Chloe’s teasing laugh. “Your little ‘pick-me’ girlfriend is leaving. You really aren’t going to chase her?” Liam let out a cold scoff. “She’s just throwing a tantrum. If I actually chase her, what happens to you?” “Besides, she doesn’t have anyone else but me. She’s easy to calm down.” My heart, already sliced open, was burning. His words were like freezing wind scraping against an open wound. Six years ago, Liam had confessed his love to me right in this very bar, swearing I was the only girl for him. When I was seventeen, my parents divorced and immediately started new families. I was dumped at my grandmother’s house. After my grandmother passed away, I went through high school completely alone. I was terrified of relationships. I was terrified of relying on anyone. I rejected Liam five times. The last time, I was trying to pull laundry off the balcony line, lost my footing, and fell. He sprinted forward and caught me, but the momentum slammed the back of his head into the brick wall. He needed seven stitches. When I went to see him at the hospital, his eyes were red. “Chloe, why do you always have to act so tough? Can’t you just let me protect you?” In that exact moment, my walls crumbled. I thought that maybe, if I dated someone this gentle, life wouldn’t be so bad. That same day, he took me to the amusement park and officially asked me out. When he heard me say “yes,” this guy—who was usually so composed and serious—picked me up and spun me around like a little kid. We spun until we were dizzy, both collapsing onto the grassy lawn. He used his body to shield mine so the rocks on the ground wouldn’t hurt me. Sitting under the Ferris wheel, he swore to the starry sky above us that as long as he was around, I would never be lonely, and I would never be abandoned again. But now, the deep, vulnerable wounds I had finally gathered the courage to show him, the wounds that had finally started to heal, were being viciously ripped open by him all over again. I let out a bitter, self-deprecating laugh. I pulled out my phone, opened my email, and clicked on the international job offer that was about to expire. [Accept Offer.] Turns out, clicking those two words wasn’t hard at all. I looked up at the night sky, heavily polluted by the city’s neon lights. Liam, I actually wasn’t easy to calm down at all. And from now on, I will never need you to try. My flight was booked for the morning after next. I didn’t have much time. As soon as I got back to our apartment, I rushed to shower off the disgusting, sticky mess, and then immediately started packing. I didn’t own a lot of things. Packing was quick. One large suitcase and one carry-on, and I was done. At 2:00 AM, I booked a room at a nearby hotel. Just as I grabbed my bags to walk out the door, I ran straight into Liam, who was just getting back from the bar. He dumped a heavily intoxicated, stumbling Chloe onto the sofa, pulled a packet of brown sugar from his pocket, and handed it to me. “Good thing you’re still awake. She’s got her period but still insisted on drinking. Go boil some ginger and brown sugar water for her, or she’s going to have brutal cramps tomorrow.” I stood perfectly still, not moving an inch. When we first moved in together, my period cramps were so severe I was practically rolling on the floor. He had been a frantic, anxious mess trying to take care of me. In the middle of the night, I had tried to get up to boil my own ginger water. Because I was dizzy and distracted with pain, I ended up severely burning my hand on the stove. When he saw the burn, his sleepiness vanished instantly. Seeing me sweating from the pain, he was heartbroken and consumed with guilt. From that day on, he never let me touch anything remotely dangerous in the kitchen. Even when he was craving a home-cooked meal, he would rather order takeout than let me cook. For the past few years, I hadn’t stepped foot in the kitchen to cook a single meal. He even pre-cut all my fruit before handing it to me. To this day, there was still a sticker he made hanging on the kitchen door: [DANGER ZONE: CHLOE KEEP OUT.] I let out a dry laugh, walked over, ripped the sticker off the door, and threw it in the trash can. “Sorry, not my job. If her stomach hurts, she can boil it herself.” With that, I grabbed the handles of my suitcases, ready to leave. He lunged forward, grabbing my wrist in a vice grip, pinning me against the front door. “Okay, Chloe, enough. Talk is one thing, but packing your bags? I already told you it was just a joke, stop being so dramatic.” “I know you were really looking forward to celebrating your birthday with me. I wanted to, too. Next year. We’ll celebrate together next year, okay?” His breath, laced with the smell of alcohol, brushed against my neck. But unlike the past, a few soft words weren’t going to fix this. I shoved him hard in the chest and slapped him squarely across the face. “Liam, I made myself perfectly clear. We are breaking up. I am not marrying you!” The slap didn’t just sober him up; it seemed to shock Chloe out of her drunken stupor on the sofa. She stumbled over, raising her hand to slap me back. “Who the hell do you think you are?! Who gave you the right to hit Liam?!” “Break up then! There are plenty of good girls out there! You… you’re nothing but a piece of trash!” A burning, stinging pain erupted across my cheek. My eyes blazing, I raised my hand to strike back. But Liam grabbed my wrist with terrifying force and violently shoved me away. The small of my back slammed hard into the metal door handle, a sharp pain radiating through my entire body. He shielded Chloe behind him, his expression filled with intense irritation. “She’s drunk! Why are you fighting with a drunk person?!” “Enough. Go outside and cool off. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.” I stared at his complete apathy in sheer disbelief. He was treating me like an annoying, irrelevant stranger. He never looked at me again. Instead, he lowered his voice, gently comforting the drunk, erratic Chloe. He saved all of his tenderness for her. I dug my nails so deeply into my palms they almost drew blood. I grabbed my suitcases and walked out the door. After checking into the nearest hotel, I didn’t close my eyes until dawn. When I woke up, my phone was blowing up with notifications. Besides birthday wishes from friends, it was mostly messages from coworkers asking why I wasn’t at work, gossiping about whether I had some “good news” to share. My heart gave a painful throb. I typed a quick reply saying we broke up. I felt profoundly, deeply exhausted. The ping, ping, ping of notifications continued. Some thought I was joking. Some said it was impossible. Some even told me not to throw away a good relationship just because I didn’t get an engagement ring. After all, in their eyes, Liam was gentle, considerate, and eternally reliable. A rare, perfect catch. But they didn’t know that this “perfect catch”… On our two-year anniversary, arranged a romantic stargazing camping trip, only to use it as a setup for Chloe’s prank, having a fake “ghost” jump out of the woods and nearly giving me a heart attack. And on our five-year anniversary, he watched as rancid, rotting liquid was dumped all over me. He had his reliable moments, yes. But the person he was reliable for was never me. In the past, I had automatically blocked out all these awful moments, constantly gaslighting myself into believing that, aside from the Chloe situation, he was truly good to me. But now that I was awake, I realized that a relationship like this wouldn’t survive a marriage anyway. I offered a bitter smile and, out of habit, opened Instagram. Amidst the sea of birthday posts, Chloe’s photo carousel was the most prominent. Liam took her stargazing, rode roller coasters with her, and ate cake with her. Even though in the past he would always finish humoring Chloe before coming to celebrate my birthday… He had never, ever done any of those things with me. He always claimed those activities were too childish, that staying home and watching a movie was more meaningful. I thought it was just a sign of his maturity, so I suppressed all my girlish, romantic hopes. But now, looking at the relaxed, genuine smile on his face in those photos… I realized it wasn’t that those activities were childish. It was that doing them with me was a chore. The comment section was a miles-long parade of people calling them a perfect match. All our mutual friends had liked the post. It had more likes than our official relationship announcement did. Just as I was about to close the app, a message popped up. It was from Liam. 【Don’t get the wrong idea. I just took her out to clear her head. Come by the apartment when you have time, she said she wants to apologize to you.】 I frowned, my fingers hovering over the keyboard to type No thanks. A delivery notification suddenly popped up at the top of my screen. I tapped it. It was for the birthday present I had bought for myself weeks ago. The shipping address was still set to his apartment. I thought about it. I did need to make things crystal clear. And I needed to return his keys. A clean break. I got ready quickly and hurried over. But the second I stepped through the door, Chloe sprinted toward me and grabbed my hand. “Chloe, come here! I have a surprise for you!” Before I could react, she dragged me toward the balcony, shoved me outside, and— The door slammed shut. The lock clicked from the inside. It was a chilly March night. The wind was biting. I was only wearing a thin sweater, standing barefoot on the freezing balcony tiles. Through the glass door, I saw Chloe making a grotesque face at me, mouthing the words: “Happy Birthday!” I pounded on the glass, screaming her name. She just giggled, shook her head, and turned back to the living room. From inside, I could hear their laughter. Someone turned the music up. I heard the clinking of glasses. I pounded on the door for ten minutes. My hands were bright red. No one came. Twenty minutes. Half an hour. I started shivering violently. I didn’t know if it was the cold or the panic. I have severe claustrophobia. Liam knows this. Ever since Chloe locked me in that escape room, my claustrophobia had gotten exponentially worse. But right now, he was drinking and laughing with his friends. He had completely forgotten I was on the balcony. I curled into a tight ball in the corner, my body shaking uncontrollably. My throat was so tight I couldn’t even force a sound out. Until my vision went completely white. Right as my eyes fluttered shut, I heard a familiar voice through the glass. “Chloe!” When I woke up again, it was evening. My heart was still hammering against my ribs, the suffocating terror of confinement still lingering from my dreams. My movement woke Liam, who was dozing in the chair beside the hospital bed. “Chloe, you’re finally awake! You terrified me. The doctor said being in a confined space for too long, combined with extreme emotional distress, caused hypoxia and made you pass out.” “She really does want to apologize. You know she’s been spoiled since she was a kid, she doesn’t know where the line is sometimes. But she didn’t mean any real harm. Please don’t hold this against her, okay?” In his desperate, rapid-fire rambling, there wasn’t a single shred of concern about whether this trauma would permanently worsen my claustrophobia. Only excuses for her. I looked at him. I looked at the face I had loved for so many years, a face that now felt completely alien to me. Tears suddenly spilled down my cheeks. “I’m not angry. I just feel profound regret. I never, ever should have dated you.” He froze. He opened his mouth to speak, but his phone screen lit up. Seeing the name [Chloe B.], Liam instantly swallowed his emotions. “I need to step out for a second. Get some rest. I’ll be right back.” He walked out quickly. Driven by a morbid impulse, I pulled myself out of bed and followed him. Through the crack in the heavy fire doors of the stairwell… I saw him sitting next to Chloe. “It’s okay, stop beating yourself up. She won’t be mad. She always gets over it.” Chloe punched him lightly on the arm. “If she can’t even handle this, imagine if she knew you only asked her out because we made a bet! A bet on whether you could get her to sleep with you in a month! She’d absolutely lose her mind!” In that split second, it felt like a bomb detonated inside my skull. Besides a deafening ringing, I couldn’t hear a single thing. Liam covered her mouth, looking around nervously. “Shh! Keep your voice down! That was years ago, take that to your grave!” My legs gave out. It felt like every bone in my body had been vaporized; I couldn’t even stand. The questions that had tormented me for years finally had their answers. Why, when forced to choose between the two of us, I was always the one discarded. Why Liam, who swore he loved me, could stand by and watch her hurt me over and over again. I had been stupid enough to believe he was just naturally non-confrontational and didn’t know how to say no to a friend. I never imagined that every single thing he gave me was a lie. Even what I thought was our beautiful, cinematic meet-cute… was just a predatory bet, and I was the prey. To them, I was never Liam’s girlfriend. I was just a pathetic clown performing for their amusement. In that moment, every last shred of my dignity was annihilated. I clamped my hand over my trembling mouth. I had to leave. Leave this suffocating, fraudulent nightmare. I took a cab back to the hotel, grabbed my luggage, and headed straight for the airport. I changed my ticket to the earliest available international flight. Right before takeoff, a message from Liam popped up on my screen: 【The doctor said you need to stay overnight for observation. Don’t wander off. Where are you? I’ll come pick you up.】 Looking at his hypocritical, sickening concern, I laughed until there were tears in my eyes. I didn’t reply. I blocked his number, blocked Chloe’s number, and deleted every single mutual friend we shared. Liam. I’m officially tapping out of your sick little game.

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It was the third month since Declan and I had gotten remarried. I found a dried, dark red bloodstain on the soft leather cushion of his car seat. Declan raised an eyebrow, his tone incredibly casual. “She was a virgin.” Unlike my usual hysterical, screaming meltdowns, I simply asked in a gentle voice, “Should I have this detailed?” Later, while accompanying Declan to an elite socialite gathering, his friends loudly discussed the young college girl he had been keeping on the side. “Dec, man! The girl you’re keeping is actually a virgin? And in the car, no less? You really know how to have a good time!” Someone whispered a warning: “Keep it down, man. His wife is right here.” But the guy purposely raised his voice even louder: “What wife? After the divorce, she couldn’t handle being broke. She came crawling right back, begging Dec to remarry her. All that ‘pride’ and ‘dignity’ shattered into a million pieces the exact second her family went bankrupt!” Faced with the overwhelming, public humiliation… I maintained a perfectly elegant smile, sipping my champagne. I didn’t lose my mind and start screaming curses at them like I used to. On the ride home, I closed my eyes to rest. Declan frowned, interrogating me. “Chloe, why didn’t you say anything back to those insulting comments tonight?” He had probably forgotten that the last time I screamed myself hoarse fighting back against them, the result was the total annihilation of my family’s business and a set of divorce papers. I had my AirPods in, my eyes closed, pretending to be asleep. Declan sighed, a hint of helplessness in his voice. “The jokes they made today were definitely out of line. No matter what, you are my wife. They should have given you basic respect.” He paused, then continued: “That college girl… she comes from a desperately poor family. Her mother is severely ill and needs money for life-saving surgery. It’s just a transaction. We both get what we need. There are no real feelings involved. Even if there were, she could never threaten your position as my wife.” It was a rare explanation from him. But in that moment, I couldn’t find the energy to care. Seeing no reaction from me, he raised his voice. “Chloe, are you listening to me?” “I’m listening.” My tone was completely exhausted, but I could still feel Declan’s probing, analyzing gaze landing heavily on me. When I opened my eyes to look at him, I reverted to the perfect, docile obedience I had cultivated lately. “Didn’t you tell me before that when they say those things, there’s no real malice behind it? That I shouldn’t be so petty and hold grudges?” “That girl is quite pitiful, and she doesn’t have much life experience. You should be gentle with her.” I thought that by echoing exactly what Declan wanted to hear, he would nod in satisfaction and praise me for being a good, obedient wife. But to my utter shock, the last remaining trace of a smile completely vanished from his face. The luxury car violently slammed to a halt on the side of the road. Declan’s voice dropped several degrees. “Chloe, I honestly have no idea what kind of tantrum you’re throwing right now.” I froze. I slowly took out my AirPods. “Declan, I haven’t thrown a single tantrum all night.” “Could you really not tell that I was wishing you two the best?” My perfectly logical answer didn’t extinguish his inexplicable, sudden rage. Instead, those words seemed to pour gasoline directly onto the fire. He ground his teeth together as he spat out my name: “CHLOE STERLING!” I looked at Declan, quietly waiting to see what he would do next. Suddenly, a torrential downpour unleashed over the city. The massive raindrops violently smashed against the car windows. The atmosphere inside the car became even more suffocating and oppressive with the pounding of the rain. Just a split second before Declan’s temper was about to explode, a frail, pathetic figure frantically trying to escape the rain on the sidewalk abruptly entered his line of sight. It only took one second. His explosive rage was forcefully swallowed by an overwhelming, visible wave of extreme anxiety. His face turned as dark as a storm cloud as he ordered me out of the car. I didn’t act like I used to—I didn’t get teary-eyed, and I didn’t scream, asking him why. I simply did exactly as he commanded and stepped out into the storm. The freezing rain ruthlessly battered my body. It stung. A few moments later, Declan stepped out of the car too. His jaw was clenched tight. Holding an umbrella, he walked directly toward that fragile, shivering silhouette. There was no conversation. He simply, dominantly grabbed the girl by the wrist and pulled her toward the car. I had heard people whispering about her. This girl’s name was Serena Vance. Suddenly, a conversation from a young couple walking behind me drifted into my ears. The girl frowned, her face full of hesitation. “A tattoo… is it going to hurt really badly?” The boy affectionately pulled her into his arms. “If you’re scared of the pain, we won’t get it.” Hearing that, the tattoo I got on the side of my waist when I was eighteen suddenly felt like it was burning. That tattoo was the wildly romantic, impulsive proof of my and Declan’s first love as teenagers. It’s just a tragic shame that the romance only survived until our third year of marriage. When I discovered his very first affair, my entire world instantly collapsed. Three years into our marriage. The brand-new executive assistant he had hired less than a month ago climbed into his bed. The image of their intertwined, naked bodies on the sheets felt like countless, brutal slaps directly to my face. I cried until I choked, acting like an absolute lunatic, screaming the most vicious, venomous curses in the world at the two of them. Declan calmly absorbed my screaming. “In elite society, a man having women on the side is the most normal thing in the world. Besides, didn’t your own father cheat on your mom when you were just a year old? Your mother played blind for decades. She never told you a word about it until the day she died. And didn’t you all just keep living your lives?” “Chloe, be smart. Grow up. Don’t scream and shout like a crazy person and ruin my mood.” In that exact moment, my blood practically froze in my veins. The curses I was about to scream got stuck in my throat. I couldn’t spit them out, and I couldn’t swallow them down. The man who had once loved me to the absolute marrow of his bones was now callously using the deepest, most agonizing trauma of my entire life just to shut me up. Chapter 2 By the time I finally made it back to the estate, it was midnight. The moment I pushed the heavy front doors open, the girl lounging on the sofa instantly jolted awake, looking like a startled deer. She was exactly Declan’s current type. Pure, beautiful, young. Yet, on her innocent face was a stubborn, unyielding defiance. I was soaked from the freezing rain, my head spinning with a fever. Yet, I forced a perfect, graceful smile onto my face. I considerately called the head housekeeper and told him to go upstairs and prepare a luxury guest suite for her. Seeing the tubes of medicinal ointment and the chaotic, messy aftermath scattered across the coffee table… I knew exactly how wild Declan had been with her. I let out a silent sigh, turned around, and walked upstairs. After we remarried, I proactively requested separate bedrooms. As I walked past his master suite, I heard him sharply, aggressively interrogating his executive assistant, Arthur. “Why the hell was Serena working a part-time job in the pouring rain today?! Didn’t I tell you to wire a million dollars into her account?!” I have no idea how Arthur replied, and I had absolutely no desire to know. At 3:00 AM, my head was splitting open, making it impossible to sleep. I decided to go downstairs to grab some Tylenol. But as I reached the landing, I saw Declan. He had both hands pressed against the wall on either side of Serena, aggressively trapping her. Her face was flushed bright red. He was forcefully demanding she make three promises. “Promise me you will take care of your body.” “Promise me you will spend my money every single day.” “Promise me you will love me forever.” But after making the promises, Serena looked incredibly aggrieved. “You’re wearing the wedding ring you gave to your wife, but you’re forcing me to say these things. What am I to you? Just a mistress?” Hearing this, Declan let out a mocking scoff. He pulled off the custom wedding band he had personally designed years ago and casually tossed it directly into the trash can. “Are you satisfied now?” The dizzying wave of nausea from my high fever made my stomach violently churn. I stumbled back, awkwardly shutting my bedroom door, and collapsed back onto the mattress. I pressed my hand hard against my chest. My heart felt like it was being carved open by a serrated knife. But in the end, the tears still pathetically betrayed me, slipping down my cheeks. Before we remarried, I naively thought that as long as I didn’t look, as long as I didn’t listen, everything would be fine. As long as I could get my mother’s heirloom back, I didn’t care if I had to play deaf and blind. But in this exact moment, I finally realized that some feelings are simply impossible to control. I knew my fever was spiking, but masochistically, I forced myself to endure it. Just endure it a little longer. I don’t know if I actually fell asleep, or if the fever just caused me to hallucinate. I dreamt of eighteen-year-old Declan. The summer right after high school graduation. We had finally thrown off the crushing weight of our college prep classes, traded our stiff school uniforms for mature suits and elegant evening gowns, and went to the highest revolving restaurant in the city. There, he formally and solemnly confessed his love to me for the very first time. The night sky couldn’t hide his flushed, nervous face. In front of those massive floor-to-ceiling windows, we were wild and passionate, over and over again. When we were finally exhausted, he pointed up at the moon and swore an oath. He swore he would love me for the rest of his life. It’s a tragic shame. Oaths are never eternal. And neither is love. When I opened my eyes again, I was greeted by the familiar stark white walls and the sterile smell of antiseptic. “What exactly is the point of treating your own body like garbage? You have a massive fever, you refuse to take medication, and you just suffer through it alone in your room. Does that accomplish anything?” Declan’s tone was entirely devoid of politeness, dripping with heavy, undisguised mockery. In the past, if I caught even a mild seasonal cold, Declan would be an absolute nervous wreck. Back then, he would frown in deep distress, pressing his warm palm against my forehead. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Did you take your meds? Does your head hurt? Do you want some water?” But now. I stared at Declan for a very long time. In the depths of his eyes, there were so many complex emotions. Sarcasm. Mockery. Disdain. The only thing missing was even a single shred of heartache. My heart felt like it was being roasted over an open, nameless flame. Before we remarried, I had warned myself a million times in my head: Do not ever beg for Declan’s love again. I forced a flawless smile. “I’m sorry. I wasted your time. Honestly, having the housekeeper drop me off at the hospital would have been perfectly fine.” Declan raised an eyebrow, seemingly caught off guard by my completely passive attitude. I still vividly remember the day we remarried. He stood outside the courthouse, smiling with arrogant, absolute superiority. “See? Without me, you are absolutely nothing. You can’t pay off your family’s massive debts. You can’t afford to eat at high-end restaurants. Hell, the place you were renting was worse than the servant’s quarters at my estate.” “I protected you too well all these years. You never had to suffer. You had no idea how brutal the real world is. I actually wanted to keep spoiling you, but your demands just kept piling up. So much so that I started to despise you.” “If, after we remarry, you can fix that pathetic temper and personality of yours… that would be ideal.” Well, I fixed it. I no longer clung to him, begging him to do childish things with me. I no longer demanded he check in with me every day. I stopped checking his phone. I stopped acting cute and vulnerable around him. And right now, I no longer needed his concern. Methodically slicing away a passionate, genuine love, piece by piece, is a long, excruciatingly agonizing process. Fortunately, in this exact moment, I felt like I was finally about to succeed. After finishing my IV drip and returning home, Serena came bursting out of Declan’s home office. Her eyes were bloodshot as she blocked my path at the top of the stairs. “Did you post these photos on the university forum?!” “Ms. Sterling, I honestly thought you were exactly as indifferent as you act!” “I never imagined you were this vicious!” “If Declan hadn’t caught it early, my life would have been completely destroyed by you!” Her shrill, piercing voice echoed violently through the hallway, incredibly grating on the ears. A stack of glossy photographs was violently hurled directly into my face. I glanced down. The explicit nature of the photos was so extreme that just a single glance would make anyone blush. I patiently explained: “Ms. Vance, I don’t even know what university you attend. How could I possibly post these photos?” But Serena had completely lost her mind. She sobbed hysterically and lunged at me, using every ounce of her strength to beat me. “Who else hates me this much besides you?! You hate the fact that Declan doesn’t love you! You hate the fact that he treats me well! So you used this disgusting method to destroy me!” Her fists, fast and heavy, rained down on me. I instinctively raised my arms to block the blows. But the next second, her foot missed a step. As she panicked and lost her balance, she made sure to grab onto me to break her fall. A terrifying, dizzying wave of weightlessness and sheer terror exploded through my system. My back slammed brutally against the floor. After a sickening, heavy THUD, my body finally stopped falling. Pain, like a torrential tidal wave, instantly rushed through every nerve in my body. In my hazy, semi-conscious state, I heard footsteps rushing toward us. Fast. Frantic. Declan’s voice was laced with absolute terror and incoherent panic. But the piercing, high-pitched ringing in my ears made it impossible to understand what he was saying. The last time I heard Declan sound this panicked… Was the day I discovered my father cheating. I was crying, screaming for justice for my mother, and my father delivered a brutal, resounding slap across my face. Declan had instantly stepped in, shielding me behind his back. He repeatedly, frantically checked to make sure I was okay, and then used the massive corporate leverage of his family’s empire to force my father to bow his head and apologize to me. The piercing ringing in my ears finally began to fade, and Declan’s words finally became clear. “Chloe, you are absolutely disgusting.” “I literally just finished scrubbing those photos off the internet to protect your reputation, and now you’re trying to murder her.” Declan’s words crashed down like a thunderbolt, completely and violently shattering the illusion of the dream I had just been living in. My explanation was weak and pathetic. My voice trembled uncontrollably from the agonizing pain. “It really wasn’t me…” But Declan refused to listen to a single word I said. Before he carried Serena out the door, I fought with everything I had to swallow my sobs. Suppressing my fading consciousness, I called out to him. “Declan, the auction tomorrow…” Declan’s body stiffened for a fraction of a second. His voice was pure, teeth-grinding fury. “I’ll go. But only on the condition that Serena is completely fine.” The heavy front doors slammed shut with a deafening crash. Only then did the terrified servants finally dare to scream and call 911. The next day, completely ignoring the doctor’s orders, I snuck out of the hospital. Early this morning, Arthur, Declan’s assistant, had texted me. He said Declan had arranged for Serena to undergo a massive, full-body medical workup. All her vitals were perfectly normal. She just had a minor sprain in her ankle. While feeling a wave of relief, I desperately tried to comfort myself in my own mind. He’s going to come. He’ll definitely come. But standing outside the auction house, watching the crowds of people come and go, I never saw that familiar silhouette. I waited from sunset until the moonlight washed over the pavement. The person I was desperately hoping for never showed up. Winter in New York is brutal. The biting, freezing, damp wind whipped relentlessly across my body. My body and my soul were both agonizingly numb. A voice in the very depths of my heart kept tirelessly repeating: He’s not coming. Tears welled up, spinning in my eyes. Even taking a breath sent sharp, stabbing pain through my chest. “Mrs. Pierce? Why are you still standing out here?” I turned my head stiffly. The moment I saw Arthur, a tiny, pathetic shred of hope inexplicably flared up in my heart. I grabbed his hand frantically, my words tumbling out in a mess. “Did… did Declan send you to bid at the auction?” Under my eyes, burning with desperate expectation, Arthur slowly nodded. He pulled out his phone and started scrolling through the list of items Declan had ordered him to win today. Out of thirty-two lots, Declan had Arthur successfully bid on thirty-one. My eyes, filled with desperate hope, scanned all the way down to the final line. I never saw the jade bracelet. The blood that had just begun to boil in my veins instantly froze solid. In a fraction of a second, I realized I was the biggest joke in the world. “Today is Ms. Vance’s birthday. They’re throwing a massive party at the estate. Mr. Pierce was in a rush to get these items back to surprise her, so he paid a massive premium to have the auction house expedite the entire process…” “As for the jade bracelet… Ms. Vance said items that belonged to dead people were bad luck. So she told him to pass on that lot…” I stood in the freezing, biting wind. My face was completely numb from the cold. I had lost count of how many times tears had blurred my vision today. Only one thought remained in my mind: Declan broke his promise. I didn’t get my mother’s heirloom back. This entire remarriage had lost its only meaning. I don’t know how much time passed. I stiffly pulled out my phone and sent Declan a single text: “Declan. Let’s get a divorce.” The message said Delivered. The reply was almost instantaneous: “Suit yourself.” Suddenly, someone roughly slammed their shoulder into mine. “Are you Declan Pierce’s wife?” I honestly didn’t know whether to nod or shake my head. But the person suddenly pulled out the exact jade bracelet I had been dreaming of getting back.

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On the first Monday back after the holidays, the entire company was in a frenzy, sprinting to hit our Q1 targets. Except for me. I was blatantly staring out the window, lost in thought. No one bothered me. Because last year, I was the sole reason the company’s revenue spiked by thirty million dollars. The CEO himself had granted me a special privilege: “You can do whatever the hell you want.” But our newly hired Director of Operations didn’t know that. He smashed my personal laptop in front of the entire floor and demanded I pay a three-thousand-dollar fine to set an example. I didn’t say a word. I just made one phone call, packed up my desk, and walked out. The very next morning, my former CEO drove to my apartment himself, begging me to come back to work. Because the number I dialed yesterday… Belonged to the private cell phone of his biggest rival’s CEO. On the first Monday back after the New Year, the whole company was scrambling. I was the only one leaning against the window, staring at the skyline. Heavy, deliberate footsteps echoed down the hallway. Someone was trying very hard to make their presence known. “Just her?” “Yes, Mr. Thorne. This is our ‘special’ employee, Elena Vance.” I recognized the second voice. It was Derek Hayes, the recently promoted Deputy Director. I turned around. A man in his early thirties was standing in front of me. Derek trailed right behind him. Both men stood with the exact same arrogant, puffed-out posture. Derek tipped his chin up. “Elena, this is our newly appointed Director of Operations, Marcus Thorne.” Marcus didn’t say hello. His eyes landed on the laptop resting on the windowsill behind me. “Yours?” I didn’t answer. Derek immediately stepped forward. “Mr. Thorne, that’s her personal laptop. She refuses to use the company-issued hardware…” Before Derek could finish his sentence, Marcus reached out and picked up my laptop. “So, if you use your own laptop, that gives you the right to zone out during company time?” He raised his arm high. And let go. The laptop slammed against the hardwood floor. The sound of the screen shattering was crisp and deafening. The entire open-plan office instantly plunged into a dead silence. Marcus stepped right over the shards of glass and walked up to me. “Elena, I hear your numbers were great last year. That was last year. It’s a new fiscal year, which means new rules.” Derek immediately threw gasoline on the fire. “Mr. Thorne, she’s always acting entitled! Just because she closed a few deals, she never attends team-building events. Slacking off on the most important day of the quarter? She needs to be disciplined!” Marcus pulled out his phone, tapped the screen a few times, and shoved it in my face. It was a memo on the company’s Slack channel. Posted three days ago by Marcus Thorne. “Read it carefully,” he sneered. “Rule number three: Anyone caught slacking during business hours will be fined a hundred dollars. Anyone publicly violating company policy and causing a severe negative impact will face aggravated penalties, starting at one thousand dollars.” He pocketed his phone. “Your behavior constitutes a severe negative impact. You are fined three thousand dollars. Pay it to the finance department by the end of the day. If you can’t pay it, pack your shit and get out.” I looked down at the shattered remains of my laptop. Then, I pulled out my phone and dialed Richard Sterling, our CEO. He answered on the second ring, sounding surprised. “Elena? Happy New Year…” I cut him off. “Richard, the new Director of Operations just smashed my laptop and demanded I pay a three-thousand-dollar fine, or I’m fired. I’m just calling to confirm: is this your directive?” The line went dead silent for two seconds. Then, Richard’s voice spiked. “What?! Marcus did what? Hold on, I’m calling him right now!” I hung up. Marcus and Derek were still standing there. Marcus had a smug smirk on his face. “Calling the CEO? Cute. I’ll wait.” He turned and started walking toward his glass-walled office. After a few steps, he glanced back. “Derek, stay here and keep Ms. Vance company while we wait.” Five minutes later, the phone in Marcus’s office rang. He picked it up, murmured a few words, and his posture visibly relaxed. When he hung up, he walked back out, hands shoved deep into his tailored pockets, looking down his nose at me. “Keep waiting.” Just two words. Then, he and Derek strolled off down the corridor. A second later, my phone vibrated. Richard Sterling. I answered. Richard’s voice was suddenly diplomatic, even laced with a nervous little chuckle. “Elena, hey… I just got off the phone with Marcus to get his side of the story. He said you were slacking off, just staring out the window first thing in the morning?” I didn’t say a word. “Look, he’s new, he’s trying to establish some discipline for the good of the company. Your numbers were beautiful last year, but it’s a fresh start. You need to get your head back in the game. Are you… maybe overreacting a little? Let’s not make a mountain out of a molehill. We’re all on the same team here.” My knuckles turned white as I gripped the phone. I looked down the hall. Marcus and Derek were standing by the corner, sharing a victorious, mocking laugh. I looked at my shattered computer on the floor and spoke softly. “I understand, Richard.” My phone buzzed against my ear. A text from a headhunter: [Victor Cole from Vanguard Tech is asking if you’ve made a decision yet?] I swiped the notification away. I didn’t reply. The next afternoon, the company held its Q1 kickoff meeting. The massive conference room was packed shoulder-to-shoulder with employees. I sat in the very last row, pressed against the wall. I had two Band-Aids wrapped around my fingers from picking up the glass yesterday. Marcus stood at the podium, his suit buttoned tight. Behind him, the projector displayed a massive, bold title: [New Beginnings. New Rules. New Heights.] He grabbed the microphone, scanning the crowd before locking his eyes directly on my section of the room. “I am well aware that this company used to harbor certain ‘special’ employees. People who relied on past achievements to stroll in late, leave early, skip team events, and treat company policy like a joke.” The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Marcus brought the mic closer to his mouth, raising his voice. “Starting today, all special privileges are revoked! Every single employee will clock in, attend meetings, and submit daily and weekly performance reports!” He paused, his gaze pinning me to the wall like a dagger. “And that includes those who think they are above the law.” A few people in the front row started clapping. Derek stood up, clapping louder than anyone else, repeatedly turning around to sneer at me. A smattering of nervous applause followed. I didn’t move a muscle. When the meeting ended, the crowd began to filter out. I was the last one to stand up. Just as I reached the door, Derek jogged up to me, clutching a pink slip of paper. “Elena, hold up.” He slapped the slip directly onto my chest. “Three thousand dollars. Pay it to finance before you clock out today, or it counts as a no-show. Mr. Thorne said rules are rules. No exceptions.” I glanced down at the penalty slip, then back up at his smug face. “My computer is smashed. How exactly am I supposed to work?” Derek’s smile stretched from ear to ear. “Was it a company computer? Figure it out yourself. Since you love using your own gear so much, just go buy a new one. It’s not like you’re broke.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and tilted his head. “Oh, by the way. Your desk has been moved to the spot by the restrooms. We need your old office for a new senior hire starting this afternoon. Better start packing.” I didn’t argue. I walked past him and headed into the bullpen. When I reached my desk, I bent down and started pulling things out of my drawers. A few notebooks, my coffee mug, a box of unopened pens, and the crystal trophy I was awarded at last year’s gala. Engraved on the glass: Apex Innovations – Employee of the Year. I placed the trophy into a cardboard box. I could feel the eyes of my coworkers on me. They would steal quick glances and immediately look away when I turned. Marcus strolled down the aisle, stopping about ten feet away. He stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Derek, crossing his arms and watching me pack. I carried my box toward the back of the floor, to the cramped desk right next to the bathrooms. The desk was tiny, covered in a layer of dust. Two massive boxes of printer paper were stacked in the corner, smelling faintly of mildew. I set my box down. At 2:00 PM, I was called into the HR office. The HR manager didn’t even look up as she slid a clipboard across the desk. “Elena, Mr. Thorne has assigned you to reorganize the basement storage archives this afternoon. Character-building exercise. Everyone has to do it.” I took the clipboard. The basement was a windowless dungeon, packed to the ceiling with expired legal files, broken office chairs, and promotional t-shirts from five years ago. I spent the entire afternoon hauling boxes alone. The sharp edges of the cardboard sliced into my hands, drawing fresh blood. I blindly wrapped them in paper towels and kept lifting. By 7:00 PM, I was finally home. I didn’t even bother turning on the lights. I collapsed onto my sofa, opened my contacts, and scrolled down to [Victor Cole]. My thumb hovered over the call button. I suddenly remembered what Richard Sterling had told me at the company gala last year. He was holding a glass of champagne, his face flushed with alcohol and success, patting my shoulder and laughing so hard I could see his molars. “Elena! From now on, whatever you want, you get it! The company rules don’t apply to you. You ARE the rule!” I let out a bitter, self-deprecating laugh and locked my phone. The next morning, I had barely sat down at my dusty desk by the restrooms when footsteps echoed down the hall. Marcus led the charge, holding a manila folder. Derek flanked him like a loyal guard dog. They stopped right in front of me. Marcus tossed the folder onto my desk. A few pages slid out, scattering across my keyboard. “Elena. This is the Q4 audit report on the accounts you managed last year. Several of the financial metrics don’t add up. We strongly suspect you fabricated your performance numbers. The company is launching a formal investigation. You are suspended pending the results.” I looked down at the papers. I knew those numbers backward and forward. I could recite them in my sleep. But the spreadsheets in front of me had been completely doctored. The gross revenue was slashed by 30%. Operating costs were inflated by 20%. The net profit margin was literally in the red. Derek stepped up beside my chair, crossing his arms, his voice dripping with venomous glee. “Elena, I never thought I’d see the day. You were so high and mighty last year. The CEO practically served you tea himself. Look at you now.” The surrounding coworkers kept their heads down, but the frantic clicking of their keyboards noticeably slowed. Everyone was listening. I looked up, staring dead into Marcus’s eyes. “Are you sure you want to play this game?” Marcus stood up straight, stepped around my chair, and leaned in close. His voice dropped to a sinister whisper only I could hear. “Let me spell it out for you, Elena. Richard doesn’t give a damn about you anymore. I had drinks with him last night. He told me he paid you way too much last year and it went to your head. This is my company now.” He stood back up, casually dusting off his immaculate suit jacket. “Pack your things. Don’t bother coming in during the investigation. Hand over your keycard.” I didn’t move. I could feel the stares of everyone on the floor. Pity. Indifference. Most of them were just enjoying the free entertainment. I slowly stood up from my chair. I reached into my bag and pulled out my phone. Right in front of Marcus’s smug face, I opened my contacts, found the number I had left uncalled for three months, and hit dial. It rang twice. A deep, steady voice answered. “Elena? You finally decided to call.” “Victor. I accept your terms.” The line was quiet for exactly one second before a rich laugh echoed through the speaker. “Excellent! I’ve been waiting three months for those words. I’ll send a car to pick you up tomorrow at 8:00 AM.” I hung up. Marcus stood completely still. The arrogant smile hadn’t fully faded from his face, but his eyes were suddenly laced with uncertainty. Derek leaned in and whispered frantically, “Mr. Thorne, who did she just call?” Marcus ignored him, glaring daggers at me. I started packing my bag. There really wasn’t much to take. My laptop was already dead. I shoved a few notebooks into my purse. Then, I picked up the heavy crystal Employee of the Year trophy. I walked right past Marcus without a second glance. As I reached the elevator banks, Marcus’s voice echoed down the hall, intentionally loud enough for the whole floor to hear. “Let her posture! What kind of waves does she think she can make?” Derek laughed loudly, the sound bouncing off the walls. I didn’t look back. THUD. I tossed the crystal trophy directly into the metal trash can by the elevators. That afternoon, I put my phone on silent and tossed it into my purse. Derek called me five times. I didn’t answer a single one. At that exact moment, I was sitting in a luxury boardroom on the 27th floor of Vanguard Tech’s global headquarters. Sitting across from me was Victor Cole. He personally poured me a cup of artisan tea. “The paperwork is all finalized. Tomorrow morning at 8:00 AM, my driver will be downstairs.” I picked up the teacup. “Perfect.” Meanwhile, back at Apex Innovations, Derek was pacing nervously outside Marcus’s office, clutching his phone. “Mr. Thorne, she’s not answering.” Marcus didn’t even look away from his monitors. “Let her ignore us. What is she going to do, destroy the company?” “But the audit file…” Marcus waved his hand dismissively. “Have someone else redo it. I’m glad she’s gone. I was sick of looking at her. She’s just a sales rep who thinks she’s a god.” Derek opened his mouth, swallowed his words, and walked away. The next morning. 7:58 AM. Richard Sterling walked into the Apex executive conference room holding a mug of black coffee. The long table was packed with department heads. The projector was humming. The morning sync was about to begin. The second he sat down, his phone started vibrating. Message after message. He frowned and opened the first text. [Industry Breaking News: Apex Innovations’ Star Rainmaker Elena Vance Officially Joins Vanguard Tech as General Manager of Strategic Development.] Attached was a high-res photo of me shaking hands with Victor Cole. All the color drained from Richard’s face. The coffee mug slipped from his trembling hand, crashing onto the mahogany table. Hot coffee splattered everywhere. Everyone in the boardroom stared at him in shock. He ignored them. His fingers shook violently as he dialed my number. [The number you have dialed is currently powered off.] He immediately dialed Victor Cole. It rang twice before Victor answered, his voice dripping with amusement. “Richard! How’s the new quarter treating you?” “Victor! What the hell are you playing at?! Elena signed a non-compete agreement with us!” Victor let out a cold, mocking laugh. “Richard, when she closed her first mega-deal for you, you publicly declared that the rules didn’t apply to her. A verbal waiver takes precedence. Everyone in the industry knows you said it.” “And as for that non-compete… you might want to check with your HR department. Are you absolutely certain you actually had her sign one?” “Don’t be so arrogant, Richard.” Richard’s phone nearly slipped from his sweaty grip. Victor added one final, twisting knife. “Oh, by the way. Thanks for hand-delivering me your best weapon.”

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My younger brother put someone in the hospital, and the victim’s family demanded $20,000 to drop the charges. To raise the money, my parents tried to force me into an arranged marriage to collect a dowry. I refused. I went to my boyfriend and begged him to lend me the $20,000. Not only did he refuse, but he verbally humiliated me in front of all his friends. Without the money, my parents dragged me back home by force. In my desperate attempt to escape, I almost died. After I survived, terrified that my parents would track me down again, I legally changed my name, moved across the country, and cut ties with every single person I knew. In this new city, I started over. I got married, had a daughter, and built a life. Just when I thought I would live happily ever after, my husband’s tech startup was suddenly and maliciously targeted, pushing us to the brink of bankruptcy. My daughter, Lily, was crying, demanding to FaceTime her dad. I tried calling Arthur at least half a dozen times, but it kept going straight to voicemail. By the time I finally managed to coax Lily to sleep, it was past 10 PM. I stepped out of her bedroom and tried Arthur’s number again. Still voicemail. I texted him. No reply. I remembered him mentioning a high-stakes dinner meeting tonight, so I decided to wait a bit longer. But an hour later, there was still no text back. After another unanswered call, I dialed his executive assistant, Ben. Ben picked up almost immediately. “Hey, Anna. Calling pretty late, is everything okay?” “I can’t get ahold of Arthur. Did something happen to him?” “No, no, nothing like that. Arthur just… he had a bit too much to drink at the dinner, so he’s already passed out in his hotel room.” Ben’s voice sounded incredibly strained. Suspicious, I pressed him. “Let’s FaceTime. I just want to see him to make sure he’s okay.” Ben panicked. “No! We can’t!” “Why not?” “Um… well… I’m already in my own room, in bed. It’s been an insanely long day, and we have back-to-back meetings tomorrow. Please, Anna, have a heart, don’t make me get dressed and walk all the way down the hall.” “Ben, tell me the truth right now. Or I am booking the next flight out there to see for myself.” Knowing he couldn’t hide it anymore, Ben caved. “Arthur had a severe gastric hemorrhage. He’s at the hospital.” “Are you kidding me?! Why would you hide something this serious from me?!” “Arthur ordered me not to tell you!” “Text me the address of the hospital. I’m on my way.” After hanging up, Ben put his hands together in a prayer motion, looking at the unconscious Arthur on the hospital bed. “Boss, Anna is just too sharp. You can’t blame me for this when you wake up.” There were no flights out that late, so I booked the earliest Amtrak Acela ticket I could find. I threw a few changes of clothes into an overnight bag and rushed out the door. On the way to the station, I texted my mother-in-law, asking her to come over and watch Lily for a few days. When I finally arrived at the hospital, it was just past 6 AM. I grabbed some coffee and breakfast from the cafeteria downstairs before heading up. Arthur was in a private room. Ben was asleep on the uncomfortable vinyl chair bed next to him. Trying not to wake them, I quietly walked over to Arthur’s bed. His lips were cracked and peeling from dehydration. I slipped out of the room, found a vending machine, and bought a pack of cotton swabs. When I got back, Ben was awake. Seeing me, he whispered, “Anna, when did you get here?” “Just a few minutes ago. I brought breakfast. Eat up.” “Thanks, Anna.” I dipped a cotton swab in a cup of water and gently moistened Arthur’s lips. Then, I sat down and waited for Ben to finish his food. Once he was done, I asked, “I thought you guys flew out there to sign a contract? How does a contract negotiation end with a bleeding stomach in the ER?” Seeing him hesitate, I narrowed my eyes. “Arthur told you to keep your mouth shut about this too?” He nodded. “Ben, tell me exactly what he told you to hide. I’m here now. He won’t dare give you any crap for it.” That was exactly what Ben was waiting to hear. He spilled everything. “At the beginning of this month, three of our primary component suppliers abruptly terminated their contracts without cause. They just stopped shipping to us. “Without those components, our manufacturing grinds to a halt. We have massive fulfillment deadlines coming up. “Arthur tried meeting with them multiple times, but they stonewalled him. He spent the last two weeks desperately trying to find alternative suppliers, but every single firm in the industry suddenly refused to do business with us. It’s a total blacklist. “Finally, a few days ago, one supplier agreed to a sit-down. That was the dinner last night. “We had all the terms hammered out. But right at the end, the supplier brought out a bottle of hard liquor. He told Arthur that if he could drink him under the table, he’d sign the contract on the spot. “Arthur was so desperate to save the company, he agreed to the drinking contest. He drank until his stomach lining gave out.” “Someone is obviously coordinating this blacklist to destroy him. Do you have any idea who?” Ben shook his head. “No. Arthur said the only priority right now is keeping the company afloat. We can worry about who’s behind it later.” When Arthur finally woke up, the first thing he did was glare at Ben. “I told you to keep your mouth shut! Why did you…” I cut him off. “Don’t you dare yell at him! The company is falling apart and you hid it from me. You end up in the hospital and you hide it from me. You hide everything from me! Am I just some outsider to you?!” Arthur grabbed my hand, offering a weak, apologetic smile. “No, of course not. I just didn’t want you to stress out. I thought I could handle it.” “Handle it by drinking until your stomach bleeds?! How many times have I told you that no business deal is worth your health?! If something happens to you, what are Lily, your mom, and I supposed to do?!” My eyes welled up with tears. Arthur panicked and immediately started apologizing. “I know I messed up, honey. I promise, it will never happen again.” “You better remember that. If there’s a next time, I’m filing for divorce!” “There won’t be a next time. Please don’t say things like that.” Seeing him so pale and trying so hard to comfort me, my heart instantly softened. “Does your stomach hurt? Do you want me to get the doctor?” “No, I’m okay.” “Are you hungry? Do you want something to eat?” Ben, who had been trying to make himself invisible in the corner, chimed in. “Anna, the doctor said the boss can’t have any solid food for twenty-four hours.” Arthur added, “Stop worrying about me. You took the red-eye train out here, you must be exhausted. Let Ben take you to the hotel so you can get some sleep.” “I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here to take care of you.” Arthur knew he couldn’t win that argument, so he let me stay. At 9:00 AM, Arthur picked up his phone and called the supplier from the night before. “Mr. Torres, it’s Arthur Davis. When would be a good time for you to sign that contract?” Torres’s voice came through the speaker, lazy and dismissive. “I don’t have any contract to sign with you.” “Last night, you explicitly said if I won the drinking contest, you’d sign.” “I did say that. But I’ve decided I don’t want to do business with you.” Arthur suppressed his anger and kept his tone professional. “Mr. Torres, business is built on trust. Going back on your word like this isn’t exactly ethical.” “Look, I never had any intention of signing with you. I just wanted to make you realize the reality of your situation. Unless you do exactly what he wants, you have zero options.” Torres seemed genuinely baffled as to why Arthur was risking his life when the solution was supposedly simple. Arthur gripped his phone tightly. “Understood. Then perhaps we can collaborate in the future.” “As long as that guy doesn’t give the green light, your company is dead in the water. Take my advice…” Arthur didn’t wait for Torres to finish. He hung up. “He backed out?” I asked. Arthur nodded. Ben was furious. “How can a CEO act like that?! He gave his word!” I was equally angry, but Arthur was surprisingly calm. “If he backs out, he backs out. We’ll just find someone else.” Arthur stayed in the hospital for two more days before being discharged. As soon as he was cleared, we took the train back to Boston. When we arrived, he dropped me off at the house and immediately headed straight to the office without even coming inside. Late that night, I woke up to feel him pulling me into his arms. Habit took over, and I rolled over, burying my face in his chest to go back to sleep. The next morning, I walked into the kitchen to find Arthur helping his mother make breakfast. Lily, who hadn’t seen him in almost a week, was clinging to his leg like a koala bear. He was struggling to walk, but he couldn’t bear to make her let go, so he just dragged his leg around the kitchen. When he saw me, he smiled. “You’re up. Breakfast is almost ready.” After we ate, we dropped Lily off at preschool together. He drove me back to the house before heading to the office, and then he came home surprisingly early that afternoon. It felt incredibly wrong. That night in bed, I finally asked him, “Why do you have so much free time today? Isn’t the company in crisis mode?” “I’ve already found a solution.” “What solution?” “I’m going to sell the company.” I sat bolt upright in bed. “Sell the company?! Why?!” Arthur sat up too, speaking slowly and deliberately. “I’ve been thinking about this since the crisis first started. I just couldn’t bring myself to pull the trigger back then.” “Is it really beyond saving?” “I’ve exhausted every possible option. If I keep dragging this out, the financial hemorrhage is only going to get worse. Selling it now, while it still has some value, is the best move.” Arthur wrapped his arms around me. “As long as our family is together, nothing else matters.” The negotiations to sell the startup moved incredibly fast. But the night before he was scheduled to sign the acquisition paperwork, Arthur received a text from an unknown number. He was in the shower. His phone was on the nightstand, and the screen lit up with the message. I saw it. It read: Change your mind now, and your company can still be saved. When Arthur walked out of the bathroom, he saw me staring intensely at his phone. “What’s wrong?” I held the phone up. “What exactly does this text mean?” Arthur was furious internally. He had blocked the guy’s number, yet he kept buying burners to harass him! Like a ghost that wouldn’t leave him alone! “Do I really have to say?” If he didn’t want to tell me, that meant it involved me. “Yes. If you don’t tell me, I’m calling this number right now to ask.” “I don’t know exactly who he is. I just know he’s the one orchestrating the blacklist against my company. He called me a few weeks ago and told me that if I wanted the blacklist lifted, I had to divorce you. I told him to go to hell!” Arthur’s tone turned incredibly serious. “I can survive losing my company. I can always find another way to provide. But if I lose you, this family is destroyed.” The area code on the text was from New York. But it was a number I didn’t recognize. I only had a handful of ties to New York. Who could it be? “Let’s find out exactly who this is.” I dialed the number and put it on speaker. The person on the other end seemed to have been waiting by the phone. They picked up instantly. “Mr. Davis, have you finally come to your senses?” The second I heard that voice, I knew exactly who it was. But Arthur spoke first. “Who the hell are you? Why are you so obsessed with forcing me to get a divorce?” “You just need to follow the instructions. As for the rest…” “Eric.” I said his name coldly. The voice on the other end instantly fell silent. I continued, “Julian Sterling ordered you to do this, didn’t he?” Eric, Julian’s right-hand man, didn’t dare confirm it. He played dead on the line. “Give me Julian’s direct line,” I demanded. “I need to speak to him.” “I… I need to request authorization from Mr. Sterling first.” “Then go request it.” I hung up. Arthur looked at me. “Julian Sterling… is that the ex-boyfriend you told me about?” “Yes.” I hadn’t expected him to connect the dots so fast, but I wasn’t going to lie to him. Getting confirmation, Arthur looked deeply worried. Was Julian doing this for revenge? Or had he discovered the truth and wanted me back? Back in New York, Eric wanted to cry. This idiot Arthur actually called while Anna was right next to him! He’s going to get me killed! Eric dialed his boss’s number, bracing himself. “Mr. Sterling, Arthur Davis just called. Anna was with him. She recognized my voice. She asked for your direct line. Should I give it to her?” Julian’s voice was like glacial ice. “No. Tell her if she wants to talk, she has to come see me in person.” The line clicked dead. Eric shadow-boxed the air in frustration. “What a terrible attitude! No wonder she dumped you!” After his minor tantrum, Eric texted Arthur’s phone: Tell Ms. Anna that if she wishes to speak with Mr. Sterling, she must come to New York in person. Reading the text, I immediately pulled up a travel app. “We’re delaying the acquisition signing tomorrow. We’re going to New York to see Julian first.” “I’m not letting you go alone. I’m coming with you.” “Okay. We’ll go together.” The next day, Arthur and I took the train to New York and headed straight for Julian’s corporate headquarters. The front desk security refused to let us up, so I called Eric. Eric got the call, realized I was already in the lobby, and rushed to Julian’s office. “Mr. Sterling, Ms. Anna is downstairs. She’s demanding to see you.” “Tell her to wait.” Julian’s face was a mask of utter indifference, but the way his expensive fountain pen was practically tearing through the paper on his desk betrayed his internal chaos. Eric tried to sugarcoat it when he came down to the lobby. “Ms. Anna, Mr. Sterling is currently in a very important meeting. It’s going to be a little while.” “You answer my calls on the first ring, and you’re running messages back and forth in record time. Do you honestly expect me to believe he’s ‘in a meeting’?” Eric realized he was outmatched. He dropped the act and gave it to me straight. “Mr. Sterling said to tell you to wait.” “Is he standing right next to you?” “No.” “Take your phone and go to his office. I’m going to say one sentence to him.” “Just tell me, I’ll pass the message along.” “You really don’t want to be the middleman for this. If I just tell him directly, he won’t have the time to punish you for it.” Eric cautiously walked back into Julian’s massive corner office and nervously placed his phone on the mahogany desk. “Mr. Sterling, Ms. Anna is on the line.” He didn’t put it on speaker. After setting the phone down, he rapidly backed away, putting as much distance between himself and the desk as possible. He was not going to eavesdrop on anything above his pay grade! Julian picked up the phone and held it to his ear, saying nothing. Eric heard total silence from his end, but I knew Julian was listening. “I was pregnant with your child.” That single sentence hit Julian like a sledgehammer. The phone slipped from his fingers, clattering loudly against the hardwood floor. He didn’t care about the phone. He didn’t care about anything. He just needed to see Anna now. “I was pregnant with your child” looped endlessly in his brain. When Eric had first investigated Anna and reported that she was married with a five-year-old daughter, Julian had been consumed by a venomous rage. How could she dump him and immediately run off to marry someone else and start a family?! But now, the timeline clicked into place. The truth was highly likely that Anna had discovered she was pregnant with his child and, in a panic, was forced to find someone—anyone—to marry immediately! The more Julian thought about it, the more certain he became that this was the truth. A wave of overwhelming, ecstatic joy crashed over him. Watching Julian frantically sprint out of the office, almost tripping over his own expensive rug, Eric praised whatever god was listening that he hadn’t overheard the call. Then he remembered he had just bought that phone a few days ago. He rushed to the desk, picked it up, and inspected it meticulously. Finding no cracks, he clutched it to his chest. “Thank god.” I didn’t get a response after I dropped the bomb, but the chaotic sound of the phone hitting the floor, followed by the rapid, frantic clicking of dress shoes sprinting down a hallway, told me everything I needed to know. Julian was coming. Sure enough, minutes later, Julian appeared in the lobby, looking slightly disheveled despite his custom Tom Ford suit. Suppressing his intense emotional high, he forced a composed greeting. “Anna. It’s been a long time.”

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When my male neighbor found out I was a small business owner who only worked three hours a day, he rapid-fired sixty-eight text messages to me in the middle of the night. “I saw you bought more makeup. Who gave you permission to spend money like that?” “Don’t think you’re special just because you make good money! Let me remind you, your income needs to go toward supporting our future family!” I was completely bewildered, and naturally, my response wasn’t exactly polite. “That’s absolutely none of your business, is it?” The moment I sent that, he exploded. “How is it none of my business?! You’re going to be my wife! Every extra dollar you spend now is a dollar missing from my bank account!” “Also, about the dowry. We’re thinking eighty grand in cash and a brand new Audi A8. Have you saved up enough yet?” “Oh, and by the way, I’m not sexist or anything, but I want the perfect family. We must have both a son and a daughter!” He unleashed this insane barrage of texts, making my blood boil. I didn’t even bother replying; I just blocked his number immediately. But I never expected this guy to be a lingering nightmare. Days later, he showed up at my company as the lead project manager to negotiate a contract. Watching him sit across from me, confidently running his mouth and demanding endless concessions, I simply waved my hand. “I think we’re done here. Let’s cancel this partnership.” As soon as the words left my mouth, the atmosphere in the conference room plummeted below freezing. The smug smile on the face of my neighbor, Caleb Vance, instantly froze. The regional director who had come with him offered a panicked, apologetic smile and asked cautiously, “Ms. Evans, our collaboration on this project has been going perfectly so far.” “Why the sudden decision to terminate?” He rubbed his hands together nervously. “There must be a reason, right? Otherwise… it’s going to be very hard for me to explain this to the board!” I offered a dry, sarcastic smile, lazily pointing a finger at Caleb. “The reason is very simple. It’s because of him…” “Chloe Evans! Are you ever going to stop?!” Caleb violently shot up from his chair, slamming his palm against the conference table with a loud thud. He glared at me, his face red with anger. “There are a lot of people here today! I won’t say anything too harsh!” “If you want to throw little tantrums with me at home, fine!” “But today is a professional setting! Reel in your terrible attitude right now!” He then picked up the contract file and slammed it back down onto the table. “I’m finalizing this deal right now! It’s settled!” The regional director looked at Caleb with absolute awe, then frantically pushed the contract toward me. Conversely, my own managers sitting next to me were looking around in utter confusion. One of them opened his mouth to speak, but I held up a hand to stop him. I pressed my lips together into a thin line. “Caleb Vance, who the hell are you to me? What gives you the right to make decisions on my behalf?” “Do we even know each other?” A flash of intense embarrassment crossed Caleb’s eyes, but he stubbornly pushed through, attempting to soften his tone. “Alright, Chloe, stop being mad at me!” “There are people watching! I’m still your man!” “Can’t you at least leave me a little dignity?” Hearing that, every single person in the room gasped audibly. The regional director immediately jumped on the opportunity. “Ms. Evans, we totally understand that you and Caleb are having a little lover’s spat.” “But we’re on company time right now. We have to prioritize the work. You absolutely cannot let personal feelings ruin this deal!” Before he even finished his sentence, the conference room door swung open. Six security guards marched in in perfect formation. My executive assistant, who also happened to be my best friend, stood behind me and gestured to the guards, speaking with absolute coldness. “I’m sorry, but our CEO has spoken. This partnership is terminated.” “You can either leave on your own two feet, or I can have security escort you out.” The regional director was stunned. He frantically elbowed Caleb in the ribs, hissing, “Say something!” “Hurry up and sweet-talk your girlfriend! If this deal falls through, you know exactly what the consequences are!” Caleb grew even more aggressive. He reached out and grabbed my arm, his voice thick with irritation. “That’s enough!” “I tolerate it when you blow money on stupid things!” “Are you really trying to push me to the edge today?!” My patience had completely evaporated. I violently shoved him away. “Caleb, are you clinically insane?!” “We don’t even know each other! Doesn’t it feel completely pathetic to walk in here and announce yourself as my boyfriend?” The regional director’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. “Ms. Evans, please don’t say things you’ll regret in anger!” “Did Caleb do something to upset you? Please, just calm down! Calm down!” I found the entire situation hilariously absurd. “Is there something wrong with your ears, or am I not speaking English?” “I have absolutely zero relationship with Caleb Vance!” “He’s entirely delusional, trying to manifest his way into being my boyfriend!” “Chloe Evans!” Caleb roared, staring at me with bulging, furious eyes. “Don’t push it!” “Keep acting like this and I’ll break up with you!” Seeing that he was still completely submerged in his own psychotic fantasy, and having no desire to waste another second on him, I gave the order: “Escort them out.” As he was being dragged away, Caleb was still shouting threats. “You stupid bitch! You haven’t been put in your place for a few days and you’re getting itchy, aren’t you?!” “You dare disrespect me like this?! Just wait until we get home! I’ll beat the living hell out of you!” The regional director seemed to finally realize something was horribly wrong. He remained silent, his face dark as a thundercloud. Once the walking plague was finally gone, my assistant—my best friend, Maya—leaned in. “Chloe, who the hell was that guy?” “Is he a psychopath? Why was he calling himself your boyfriend?!” I rubbed my temples, completely exhausted. “I have no idea!” “He wasn’t this unhinged before.” “In fact, he initially acted like I was completely beneath him!” About six months ago, I moved back into an older, working-class apartment complex. Everyone I knew thought I was crazy. They asked me why, when I was so wealthy and owned a massive luxury condo downtown, I would choose to live in an old, inconvenient building. “I built my business from nothing. That apartment holds too many beautiful memories from my early struggle.” So, the very first thing I did when I made it big was buy back my old apartment. During my first week there, my neighbor, Mrs. Vance, brought her son over to introduce us. She even thoughtfully presented our “credentials” to each other. “This is Chloe. She’s twenty-seven. What did you say you did for a living again, sweetie?” We didn’t know each other well, so I just gave a vague, non-committal answer and laughed it off. I didn’t expect that the second I finished speaking, Caleb would flick his cigarette ash right by my feet. “Mom! How many times have I told you? Stop trying to set me up with these low-quality women!” “I’m a senior corporate executive! I know you want grandkids, but you can’t just drag any random nobody off the street and expect me to settle!” Finally, he looked me dead in the face and sneered mercilessly, “Bringing me out to look at trash like this is a total waste of my time.” The second he walked away, Mrs. Vance grabbed my hands, bowing repeatedly to apologize. “Chloe, I am so sorry! I raised a fool! Please don’t be angry!” “Let me apologize on his behalf!” I have a soft heart, and I can’t stand seeing an older woman grovel like that, so naturally, I didn’t hold it against her. But I never expected that, two days ago, Caleb would suddenly add me on the community WhatsApp group. “You’re Chloe, right?” “I’m your neighbor, Mrs. Vance’s son. Caleb!” At the time, I was reviewing contract details. The moment I saw his name, I knew he was the lead manager for the opposing firm. Just as I was preparing to shift into a professional gear to discuss the project details, a barrage of unhinged accusations flooded my screen. “My mom told me you run a small business and make decent money?” “What’s the point of making money? The important thing is knowing how to save it and hoard it!” “By the way, how is your fertility? Are you healthy? Are you still pure?” Staring at the endless stream of psychotic texts, I was completely shell-shocked. Remembering all this, I handed my phone to Maya. “Look at what he sent me.” Maya scrolled through the chat logs, her jaw dropping. “This guy is clinically insane.” Right at that moment, the CEO of Caleb’s company called my private line. His voice dripped with blatant flattery. “Ms. Evans, I was hoping to understand how our partnership suddenly fell apart.” “You’ve always been known for keeping business and personal matters strictly separate. Why let emotions dictate things today?” “Caleb told me all about the little spat between you two. If you ask me, couples fight, but it never lasts overnight…” “Mr. Davis.” I interrupted him, my patience completely gone. “I think you have a massive misunderstanding. I have absolutely no relationship with Caleb Vance!” “We don’t even know each other!” After I briefly explained the situation, I could feel the suffocating silence radiating through the phone. Sure enough, five minutes later, Mr. Davis sent me a photo. It was Caleb Vance’s termination notice. “Ms. Evans, I am deeply apologetic that something like this occurred. I have already fired Caleb!” “As for the profit margins, to make up for this unpleasantness, I am willing to concede an additional five percent.” “Regarding the contract, could we perhaps sit down and renegotiate?” He was showing immense sincerity, and it would be bad business to refuse. That very night, we set a time and booked a high-end restaurant. But just as I arrived at the restaurant entrance, Mrs. Vance suddenly grabbed my arm, her face drenched in tears. “Chloe, my son made a terrible mistake! He wronged you!” “But you can’t be this ruthless!” “At the end of the day, you two are husband and wife! What kind of grudge could possibly be this deep?!” Right beside her, Caleb dropped to his knees in front of a crowd of people, wrapping his arms around my calves in a vice grip. “Wife!” “I was wrong! I know I was wrong!” “Please, just forgive me, okay?” The restaurant entrance was busy, and pedestrians instinctively stopped, staring at us with insatiable curiosity. Caleb pressed his face desperately against my leg. The warm, damp sensation of his tears made me feel incredibly nauseous. “Wife! If you want to be mad at me, be mad! But why would you tell people we don’t know each other?!” Mrs. Vance aggressively joined the performance. She collapsed onto the sidewalk, slapping her thighs in dramatic, theatrical despair. “Oh, dear God!” “What sin did I commit in a past life to deserve this?!” “Chloe, have I been a bad mother to you?” “Why are you doing this?!” She sobbed loudly, addressing the growing crowd. “Everyone, look at this!” “Who has a more unfilial daughter-in-law than me?!” “Just because my son criticized her for spending too much money, not only did she tell everyone she doesn’t know him, but she actually made his boss fire him!” The moment she finished, the crowd didn’t even give me a chance to explain. They immediately turned their righteous fury on me. “That is disgusting! Getting your husband fired over a petty argument? If that was my wife, I would have beaten her half to death!” “You can tell just by looking at her face that she’s bad news. She looks like a gold-digger!” “Look at how glamorous she’s dressed, and look at her husband in cheap clothes. This woman is completely ungrateful!” I was burning with fury. I desperately tried to explain to the crowd, “I do not know this man!” “Please, someone call 911!” I was sweating profusely from panic, but someone in the crowd loudly voiced their doubts. “She doesn’t look like she’s faking it… maybe we should call the police?” “I agree, this seems like something the cops should handle!” “Chloe! Can you please stop this?!” Caleb looked at me with an expression of deep, tortured devotion. Then, he pulled two bright red, official-looking marriage certificates from his pocket. “She is my wife!” “We are legally married!” I stared at those two marriage certificates, completely dumbfounded. To ensure the crowd believed him, he flipped them open. “Look, the people in this photo are us.” “This is fake! I don’t even know him!” “Chloe! Has it really come to this?! Are you still refusing to forgive my son?” Mrs. Vance’s voice cracked, shrill with panic. “Do you want him to die right in front of you before you admit he’s your husband?!” I was losing my mind. All I could do was silently pray that someone had actually called 911 and that the police would arrive quickly. Caleb had one hand gripping my leg, and his other hand locked around my wrist. He leaned his entire body weight against me, dropping his voice so only I could hear. “Let me tell you right now, you are not escaping today!” “The one thing you women care about most is your reputation, right?” “I’m going to completely destroy your reputation. Let’s see if you submit to me then!” I turned my head and locked eyes with his venomous, psychotic glare. In a split second, his eyes filled with tears again. Before I could react, he grabbed my hand and started violently slapping his own face with it. “Wife! Hit me! Beat me to death!” “As long as you forgive me, I’ll do anything!” Mrs. Vance practically crawled to my feet. “Chloe! If you’re still angry, beat me!” “I’m old and useless! But I’m not blind!” “My only wish is to see you and Caleb living happily together!” My attempts to defend myself were instantly drowned out by the roar of the crowd’s condemnation. “This woman is absolute trash!” “Yeah, and the guy is an idiot too. Can’t he just divorce her?” “What do you know? That’s true love!” As the crowd swelled, all I could do was scream at the top of my lungs, “They are trying to kidnap me! Please, call 911!” “I really don’t know him!” Suddenly, a booming voice echoed from the crowd. “I can vouch for him!” “The woman standing right there…” Looking at that familiar face, a wave of relief washed over me. But a second later, he laughed and said: “Is 100% this man’s wife!” “They are a married couple!” My voice caught in my throat, coming out as a hoarse shriek. “You’re lying!” “Mr. Davis! You know exactly what my relationship with Caleb is! Why are you lying?!” Mr. Davis casually adjusted his expensive watch, speaking with absolute entitlement. “You’re the one lying, aren’t you?” “If Caleb hadn’t shown me your wedding photos, I really would have fallen for your act!” Caleb nodded in solemn agreement. “Thank you, Mr. Davis!” “If you hadn’t helped me trick Chloe into coming here, I really wouldn’t have known what to do!” “Chloe, please just be reasonable, okay? Forgive me, please?” “I know I messed up!” His grip on my wrist was brutal, the pain radiating up my arm making it hard to breathe. I had no idea where Caleb had hidden my phone during the scuffle. My last sliver of hope rested entirely on the crowd. “I swear to God, I don’t know him! Please, someone call 911!” There was a time when I would scroll through true crime videos online about women being kidnapped in broad daylight, and I could never understand why they couldn’t just run away. Now, living it in real time, I finally understood. In this kind of chaotic, overwhelming situation, compounded by Caleb’s manipulative victim-playing, Mrs. Vance’s hysterical crying, and a “credible” witness validating their story… It was nearly impossible for me to escape. Caleb gripped my wrist like a vice, a sickeningly smug smile on his face. “Stop wasting your energy! No one is going to believe you.” Sensing an opening, I lunged forward and bit down as hard as I could on his forearm. The metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth instantly, spreading rapidly. Caleb gasped in excruciating pain and instinctively shoved me to the ground. I broke free and scrambled to my feet, sprinting away as fast as I could. But the crowd was too thick, mostly comprised of men. They formed a human wall, physically blocking my path and refusing to let me through. “Everyone, help me stop her!” Furious, Caleb lunged forward and grabbed me again, dragging me back. Gritting his teeth, he delivered a brutal backhand slap across my face. “Bitch! I’m trying to give you an out and you spit in my face!” “You want to run?!” “Fine! Give me back my dowry and every single dollar I ever spent on you!” Mrs. Vance wailed theatrically, “This is marriage fraud! This is marriage fraud!” Hearing this, the crowd’s disgust toward me reached an absolute fever pitch. “This is literally a gold-digger in the flesh!” “Wow, this is wild! This woman has zero shame!” “How much money did you steal from him?! Pay him back right now!” I had barely opened my mouth to speak when Caleb delivered another vicious slap. “You dirty whore! I was completely blind to marry you!” Just as the words left his mouth, the wail of police sirens pierced the air in the distance. I let out a massive sigh of relief, using every ounce of energy I had left to scream for help. The police quickly pushed through the crowd and reached us. By this point, my face was swollen like a balloon, but I forced myself to stay conscious to report the incident. But the moment I managed to choke out the word “Officer,” the tears began falling like broken pearls. “My husb—” Before I could finish the sentence, Caleb stepped forcefully in front of me, lifting his chin arrogantly. “What?” “Are the police getting involved in domestic disputes now?” “I am simply disciplining my own wife!” The lead officer, his face carved from stone, stared at him. “You’re saying she’s your wife?” Caleb nodded arrogantly. “Obviously.” “Who gave you the right to— AHHHH! IT HURTS!” The officer’s hand clamped down like a steel trap on Caleb’s shoulder, violently spinning him around to face me. “Her name is Chloe Evans, and she is my legally wedded wife!” “Are you implying that my wife would leave me for a pathetic piece of trash like you?”

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On New Year’s Eve, my little sister kept pestering me to play hide-and-seek. I covered my eyes. Right as I counted to thirty, the eraser in my brain moved again. I stood frozen in the middle of the living room for a few seconds. Then, I turned around, went back to the couch, and started watching TV. An hour later, Mom crouched down in front of me. “Sweetie, where did your sister go?” Sister? I blinked at her. “I don’t have a sister.” Mom’s face instantly changed. The family abandoned the holiday dinner. They rushed out into the heavy snow. But they couldn’t find my sister anywhere. Mom raised her hand and slapped me hard across the face. Her eyes were completely red. “Didn’t I tell you to watch your sister?! Didn’t I tell you not to let her out of your sight?!” “Where is she now?! Which way did she go?! Tell me!” The force of the slap shoved me backward. I fell onto the freezing, snow-covered porch. “Why couldn’t you be the one who went missing, you idiot?! You don’t remember anything anyway!” “This time you forgot your sister! What about next time?! Are you going to forget me and your father?!” Mom lunged forward to hit me again, but Dad grabbed her arm. They were both crying hysterically. My chest hurt so badly. She was right… why wasn’t I the idiot who went missing? … Mom’s hand stopped inches from my cheek, gripped tightly by Dad. “That’s enough!” Dad’s voice was hoarse. “She’s sick! You know she’s sick!” “It’s exactly because she’s sick that I told her not to let her sister step foot outside the house!” Mom violently yanked her arm out of his grasp, but she didn’t step closer to me. She just glared at me with those bloodshot, terrifying eyes. “She’s only four years old… In a blizzard like this, where could she possibly go?!” Four years old? I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. Is that sister four years old? But there was truly, absolutely nothing in my head. Nothing except the New Year’s Eve broadcast replaying on the TV, and the snow swirling wildly outside the window. Hearing the commotion, our neighbors rushed over. “Keep looking! A little kid can’t get far. Did she go to a friend’s house?” Dad grabbed Mom’s arm and pulled her up. “Why are you still sitting here?! Get up and help us look! Yelling at her won’t do any good!” Clarity flashed in Mom’s eyes for a split second. “Yes! I have to find my Lily…” Mom didn’t look at me again. She grabbed a flashlight and sprinted out into the snow. The crowd of people echoed through the neighborhood, shouting my sister’s name. I stood alone on the porch, my mind completely, entirely blank. “Lily… isn’t Lily my name?” My memory drifted back to when I was three. Back then, Mom and Dad called me Lily, too. “Mia! Why are you just standing there like an idiot?! Hurry up and help us find your sister!” Mia. Why did my name change again? Whatever. If I can’t figure it out, I won’t think about it. I had just taken a step off the porch when I heard a shout from the distance. “Found her! Lily is over here!” Everyone rushed toward the old oak tree at the entrance of the subdivision. There was a shallow ditch hidden by the accumulating snow. My sister was inside it. Her face was purple. Her hair was covered in icicles. Mom let out a guttural wail and threw herself into the ditch. “Lily… my baby Lily!” As if sensing her presence, my sister slowly opened her eyes. But she looked straight past Mom, staring directly at me. “Sister… why didn’t you come find me?” She started crying. “You promised you would come find me after you counted to thirty. I hid so well. I was waiting for you the whole time…” Mom violently snapped her head around to glare at me. She gently set my sister down and marched toward me. Smack! The slap landed squarely on my cheek. My left ear instantly started ringing. “Are you satisfied now?” Mom’s voice was shaking with pure, unadulterated rage. “You saw her almost freeze to death. Are you happy now?!” “How could I have given birth to a monster like you?” “This disease… this goddamn disease! It makes you forget your sister, it makes you forget us! Would it be better if you just forgot who you were entirely?!” Her tears finally broke, streaming down her face. “Or… did you do this on purpose? Did you pretend to forget, just so you could leave her out here in the freezing snow to die?” “Enough.” Dad finally spoke, but he only pulled my sister tighter into his heavy winter coat. “Let’s get Lily inside by the heater first. The paramedics are almost here.” Not a single person spoke up for me. And I didn’t know how to defend myself. This really was my fault. Mom shot me a look of pure, venomous hatred. “You stay right here. Stand in the snow and feel exactly how cold and terrified your sister was just now!” They turned and walked away. Seeing the situation, the neighbors didn’t know what to say. They all awkwardly shuffled back to their own houses. The snow was falling harder now. I slowly crouched down, mimicking the way my sister had curled up, and huddled into that shallow ditch. The freezing snow instantly soaked through my clothes. So this is how cold it was. I’m such a horrible person. How could I have forgotten something so important? But… I’m just sick. The doctor said it’s an incredibly rare, progressive memory disorder. It’s like something is slowly, constantly eating away at the hippocampus in my brain. New memories can’t be stored, and old memories are vanishing bit by bit. Mom calls it an eraser. But I don’t know why there’s an eraser inside my head. All I know is that things I remember clearly in the morning become blurry by noon. Mom says I’m an idiot. Maybe I am. The sky grew darker and darker. The lights in the houses down the street flickered on one by one. I could hear the faint, scattered pops of New Year’s fireworks. It was time to go home. I shifted my freezing, stiff legs. But the moment I stood up, that familiar, terrifying sensation hit me again. I blinked, looking around wildly. The trees were white. The road was white. I turned around, then turned back. What was I… what was I about to do again? Go home. Right, go home. But… where is my home? My heart started hammering against my ribs. I pressed my hand against my chest, gasping for air. Think. Today is New Year’s Eve. My sister wanted to play hide-and-seek. Then Mom hit me… And then what? I couldn’t remember. Forget it. I’ll just wait. When they realize I haven’t come back, they’ll come looking for me. Just like they looked for my sister. I sat back down in the ditch, hugging my knees to my chest, counting the distant pops of the fireworks. One, two… when I got to seventeen, I forgot what the number before it was. I sat there until the midnight countdown rang out from a distant TV. Massive fireworks exploded in the sky, lighting up the entire neighborhood. It was so beautiful. On past New Year’s Eves, Dad used to set off fireworks for me and tell me to make a wish. But what did I wish for? I forgot that, too. I curled myself into an even tighter ball. I should have felt incredibly cold, but somehow, I was getting hotter and hotter. I took off my winter coat. Then I took off my sweater. But I was still so hot. It wasn’t until I stripped down to just my thermal undershirt that I suddenly felt like I was floating. I blinked, and I was back inside my house. The New Year’s Eve broadcast was still playing on the TV. Mom was sitting on the sofa, holding my sister, feeding her hot ginger tea from a spoon. “Be a good girl, Lily. Take one more sip. It’ll warm you up.” The color had returned to my sister’s little face. She was wrapped in a thick, fluffy blanket, with only her eyes peeking out. “Where’s my sister?” she suddenly asked. Mom’s hand paused. “Don’t talk about her.” “But she hasn’t come back yet…” “She deserves it! She needs to learn what it feels like to freeze in the snow! She’s a grown teenager, and she can’t even watch her own little sister.” I wanted to walk over and say I was sorry, but I walked straight through the coffee table. I froze. “Mia still isn’t back.” Dad was standing by the window, staring outside. “The snow is coming down harder…” “Oh, now you’re worried?” Mom didn’t even look up. “What if Lily had actually died today? What then? Tell me, what then?” Dad fell silent. “She did it on purpose! She’s jealous of her sister, so she pretended to forget! That disease… who knows if it’s even real? The doctors themselves said they’ve never seen a case this bizarre…” “The doctors said it’s organic brain damage,” Dad said quietly. “Organic brain damage that conveniently makes her forget her sister, but remember how to watch TV?! Does that make any sense?!” Mom’s voice spiked aggressively. “She hates that we had a second child! She hates that we gave our love to Lily!” My sister was startled by the shouting and shrank deeper into Mom’s arms. Mom instantly softened her voice, gently patting my sister’s back. “Don’t be scared, baby. Mommy isn’t yelling at you… my sweet, perfect Lily…” Dad stood by the window for a long time before finally turning away. “When she gets back, I need to have a serious talk with her.” “Talk about what? Talk about how she tried to murder her sister?” Mom sneered. “If you ask me, we should just institutionalize her! She can’t remember anything anyway, what difference does it make where she lives?” Dad didn’t reply. I stood to the side, opening my mouth. “I…” No sound came out. I reached out to touch Mom’s shoulder, but my hand passed completely through her body. Oh. I’m dead. Well, that’s okay. At least now I won’t forget anything ever again.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “400815”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel