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I spent ten years trapped in a cage, poked, prodded, and torn apart in the name of psychic research. When I finally broke free, I stepped out into a world that had already ended. A zombie apocalypse had ravaged the surface while I was underground. Now, I’ve found my old best friend from the orphanage. But her husband, a newly awakened “evolved” human with powers of his own, is bullying her into giving up her last scrap of food. “Everyone else chipped in, Sarah. Don’t be selfish. Are you really trying to hide those candy bars?” Sarah protested in a weak whisper, “I was saving them for JJ.” A young girl standing next to the husband interrupted with a cold sneer. “Come on, Sarah. You always use your son as an excuse when you get greedy. It’s pathetic.” As the crowd glared at her with disdain, I stepped out of the shadows. I threw a heavy backpack right at the girl’s head. It struck her hard, sending her stumbling. “Is that enough?” I asked, my voice dead and flat. “Say one more word, and I’ll kill you all.” Chapter 1 The zipper on the backpack hadn’t been closed properly. Loose chocolate bars scattered across the dirty floor. “Who the hell are you?! How dare you talk to me like that?” the girl screamed, her face flushed with rage and shock. No one answered her. Every eye in the room was glued to the chocolate on the floor. The sound of involuntary swallowing echoed through the quiet factory. “Chocolate… an entire backpack full of chocolate…” “I checked with my sensory abilities,” a guy whispered nearby. “It’s real. It’s not an illusion.” They surged forward, completely ignoring the girl’s outrage, scrambling to grab the candy. She bit her lip, grabbing the tall man next to her by his arm, shaking it. “Elias, look at them!” The man, Elias, frowned, his voice dropping to a low command. “Stop. Don’t touch it.” “All supplies must be turned in. They go into Chloe’s sub-space storage for rationed distribution. Have you all forgotten the squad rules?” The scavengers froze, reluctantly stopping their grab for the candy. The girl, Chloe, giggled. She walked over to confiscate the chocolate bars from their hands. As she touched them, I saw faint blue sparks flicker in her palm. Spatial manipulation. Storage power. Through all of this, my friend Sarah—whose face was so pale she looked bloodless—didn’t spare a single glance at the food. She was staring only at me. Her voice trembled, filled with absolute disbelief. “Nova? Is that really you? Are you alive?” She rushed forward and threw her arms around me, hugging me tightly. I felt distant, confused by the physical contact. Yet, a dormant instinct kicked in, and I brought my hands up to pat her back gently. “My name… is it Nova?” “You don’t remember?” She pulled back from the hug, her hands frantically roaming over me, checking for injuries, laughing through her tears. “Back at the home, the director said you were adopted. I asked by who, but he absolutely refused to say. I tried looking for you later, but I couldn’t find a single trace…” I remained silent as she rambled. Of course she couldn’t find me. For the last ten years, I had been in a top-secret underground laboratory. I was subjected to extreme human experimentation to unlock psychic potential. I don’t know how many times they cut open my brain, how many chips they implanted, or how many serums they injected. My memories and emotions were fractured, dulled to almost nothing. I didn’t even remember my own name. I only had a vague, hazy recollection that before I was taken, I had a best friend named Sarah. And she… loved me very much. “Who are you? How do you have this many resources?” While Sarah was still fussing over me, checking if I was okay, the tall man walked over. His eyes were sharp with suspicion as he eyed me. I thought about it for a second. “I was passing through the city center. Just picked it up.” Elias narrowed his eyes. “Just picked it up? Do you have any idea what it’s like out there…” Before he could finish, Sarah spun around, spreading her arms to shield me. “Elias, stop. She’s my friend. I told you about her—she’s my best friend in the whole world.” She looked back at me. “Nova, this is my husband, Elias King. We got married five years ago.” After the introductions, she looked earnestly at Elias. “Please, let her join our squad!” Elias didn’t say anything. Behind him, Chloe, the spatial user, walked over. “Sarah, I don’t mean to be harsh, but we are an elite squad. Carrying you—an ordinary human with no powers—already holds us back severely.” “If we take your friend too, are we ever going to make it to the safe zone in the capital?” Sarah’s face turned cold. “Chloe, if you won’t take her, then give her back her chocolate.” “Why, you—!” Chloe’s face turned red with anger. She turned back to Elias, whining. “Elias, look at Sarah! Why is she taking an outsider’s side against us?” “Enough. Stop fighting.” Elias issued his final command. “She turned over her supplies, so we have an obligation to protect her. Sarah, your friend can come with us. It’s settled. I don’t want to hear another word about it.” Sarah’s eyes crinkled with a smile. Beside her, Chloe’s face fell, and she rolled her eyes at me. I scanned her with my mental acuity. Her energy signature was incredibly weak. Chloe’s spatial storage was less than three cubic meters. It was the lowest tier of spatial power. I could kill her with a single thought. But I looked at Sarah standing next to her. …I decided to let it go for now. We drove for two days before entering a small town. Sarah still loved to talk, just like when we were kids. Along the way, I pieced together her life from her stories. After I was “adopted,” she got into college. She started dating Elias during her sophomore year and married him right after graduation. Two months ago, the zombie virus erupted globally. Elias awakened a rare metal-manipulation power, allowing him to control metal for combat. As for Chloe, she was Elias’s step-sister from a remarriage. They weren’t blood-related. “They have such a tight bond,” Sarah sighed. “Sometimes I’m actually jealous. After you left, I was always alone.” “I have a son, too. JJ. He’s four, just started preschool. On the day the outbreak started, he was on a summer camping trip at the coast. I begged Elias to go get him, but Elias said he couldn’t find him in the chaos. Later, Elias got in touch with the camp organizers through the radio. They said due to a change in plans, the group had flown to the capital safe zone early.” “So, we’re heading to the large safety base in the capital. Once we get there, you can meet him.” Sarah smiled brightly, resting her chin on her hands as she looked at me. “JJ knows about you, Nova! I always tell him, ‘Mommy has a wonderful, dear friend named Nova.’ I told him so many stories about us growing up in the orphanage. He knows you like origami, and he’s folded hundreds of paper cranes. He said he wants to give them to Auntie Nova.” I looked at her smile. Something shifted in my mind, like a block of ice that had been frozen for ages finally starting to melt at the edges. “Okay.” I held out my hand to her. In my palm lay a few chocolate bars. Sarah’s eyes went wide. I smiled slightly. “Saving these for JJ.” That night, we rested in an abandoned factory. Sarah came to find me, clutching two loaves of bread. “Nova, eat this.” After countless physical modifications, my body barely needed food to function. But looking at her shining eyes, I took the bread anyway. Sarah sat down next to me and took a bite of her bread. “Where have you been for the last ten years? How did you suddenly show up here?” I remained silent for a moment, staring at the soft, warm bread in my hand. Images of the cold, sterile lab flashed in my mind. Endless precise machinery, researchers in white coats walking back and forth. “Attempting to inject the latest serum into Subject 09!” “Increase the chip stimulation current!” “Oh no! She’s spiraling!! System breach!” There had been a deafening explosion. My mental powers were so intense they shattered the glass of my containment tank. By the time my sanity returned, the lab was deserted. Corpses lay scattered everywhere. I had grabbed some clothes off the floor, put them on, and stared blankly into the distance. “Sarah… I need to find Sarah…” … “I was in a special place,” I said vaguely. “It wasn’t convenient to contact the outside world during that time.” “Later, I got out. I wanted to see you, so I came looking.” “Nova~” Sarah suddenly threw herself into my arms, nuzzling against me. “I knew you loved me the most. Hmph. Elias kept saying you were probably adopted by some rich family and were living the good life, that’s why you didn’t want to contact me. I didn’t believe him for a second! I told him he just doesn’t understand the bond we have.” Yes, who could understand? During those ten years of experimentation, not even the world’s top scientists understood. The agonizing pain caused by excessive doses of neural drugs was enough to kill a normal person. Yet I had survived hundreds of injections. Of the hundred subjects brought in with me, I was the only one left alive at the end. I often heard them through the glass, saying, “Subject 09 is a gift from God.” There is no God. I just vaguely remembered someone saying to me: “Nova, we’ll still be best friends when we’re a hundred years old.” I had to live to be a hundred. I couldn’t break my promise. In the middle of the night, Sarah fell asleep leaning against me. I carefully adjusted her position so she was comfortable, then stood up. In the darkness, I locked eyes with Elias, who was watching me with a scrutinizing glare. He began walking toward me. Psychic energy condensed into an invisible blade, gathering in the palm of my hand. The next second, a piercing siren shattered the night! “Crap!! It’s a horde!!” The factory doors, which had been barricaded with vehicles, were forced open. Densely packed zombies surged inside. Everyone in the squad woke up instantly, utilizing their powers to fight. There were six evolved humans in this squad. Aside from Elias, who had mid-tier metal manipulation, the others only had low-tier powers. Their mental stamina was depleted almost immediately. The defensive line collapsed. Several zombies, clawing and gnashing, lunged toward Chloe and Sarah. “Elias!!” Chloe shrieked. “Elias!” Sarah cried out. Hearing Chloe’s blood-curdling scream, Elias didn’t even hesitate. The metal spike in his hand drove through the skull of the zombie lunging at his step-sister. Then, as if realizing Sarah was crying for help too, he whipped his head toward us. Just in time to see— Thwack— The rebar in my hand drove through the brains of two zombies consecutively. They tottered and fell to the ground. Sarah grabbed the hem of my jacket, her face utterly colorless. “Nova, are you okay? Are you hurt??” “I’m fine.” I casually wiped the foul, dark blood that had splashed onto my face, noticing even more zombies surrounding us. “Get in the car, I’ll cover the rear!” Elias gritted his teeth. “Let’s move!! Drive out of here!” Chapter 2 Sarah remained silent throughout the drive. After dawn, we finally escaped the zombie horde. We found an abandoned, empty house nearby to rest and regroup. Sarah kept rubbing the cuff of her sleeve nervously. I gently took her hand, looking into her eyes. “I will protect you.” Sarah looked up at me. The scene in the factory hung between us. When Sarah and Chloe both needed protection at the same time, Elias had chosen his step-sister. “All our supplies are in Chloe’s sub-space. She has to be prioritized for protection. It’s not that I don’t understand that, logically. It’s just… it’s just…” Sarah sobbed, “Nova, am I being selfish?” I shook my head. “You are good.” In my heart, Sarah was the best person in the whole world. I was dumped at the orphanage door when I was four years old because my biological parents realized I wouldn’t speak. A trip to the hospital confirmed I was on the autism spectrum. After the orphanage took me in, the older kids bullied me. It was Sarah, three years older than me, who grabbed a brick and chased them all over the yard, ready to fight. “Don’t touch her! Don’t you dare touch her!” One night, when I was nine, the director called me into his office. He said he had brought a doctor in to give me a physical exam. I went. There were two strange middle-aged men in the room. They told me to take off my dress for the exam. The director was standing nearby, smiling. “She can’t talk. It’s perfectly safe.” Right then, the office door was slammed open. Sarah charged in waving a massive, filthy shovel meant for the septic tank. She swung it wildly at the director and the two men. “AHHHHH! Get away from my Nova! I’ll kill you!” Amidst their screams of surprise and disgust, the shovel cracked open their skulls. The incident caused a huge scandal. The director and the two men were arrested. That night, in the dark, Sarah held my hand, repeatedly stroking my messy hair. She said, “Don’t be scared, Nova. When there’s danger, just shout my name!” … I awkwardly tried to imitate the tone she used back then. “Don’t be scared, Sarah. When there’s danger… just shout my name.” She stared at me, stunned. Her lips began to tremble. “Nova…” Before Sarah could say another word, the light in front of us was suddenly cut off. I looked up. Elias and several other evolved squad members had surrounded us. Sarah immediately pushed me behind her, shielding me. “What’s going on?” Chloe spoke up. “Sarah, I know you want to believe in your friend, but haven’t you noticed how weird things are?” Sarah frowned. “Weird? How?” Chloe shot Elias a look of concern. Elias didn’t speak. He just used his power to condense a metal spike, holding it ready in his hand. A rat-faced man next to him said, “Sarah, think about it. Outside, it’s crawling with zombies. It’s nearly impossible for us to find a scrap of food. Yet your friend here is lugging around a whole backpack full of chocolate, surviving all alone in the middle of a zombie infested city for two months.” “She claims to be an ordinary person with no powers. How is that possible?” Sarah grabbed my hand even tighter. “So, what are you actually trying to say?” Elias took a step forward, dropping his voice to a low rumble. “Sarah, I know she’s an important friend to you. But these are dangerous times. We have to be cautious.” “Our squad has been traveling for nearly a month. We specifically picked low-population rural routes and barely ran into any zombies. It’s too coincidental that the very night your friend joins us, we get hit by a massive horde.” “The military radio broadcast mentioned a few days ago that zombies are evolving. They’ve confirmed high-level zombies that are indistinguishable from humans, and even Zombie Kings capable of commanding legions.” He raised the metal spike, aiming it right at my eyes. “I suspect your friend… is a legendary Zombie King.” “Impossible!” Sarah retorted immediately, without even a moment’s hesitation. “If she were a Zombie King, she would have bitten me ages ago! I’m still standing here fine, aren’t I?” “Sarah, you are so naive.” Chloe looked at her, shaking her head and sighing, acting as if she were counseling a clueless child. Elias said in a low voice, “Sarah, step aside.” The metal spike grew brighter. Sarah continued to shield me, her voice cracking with desperate emotion. “Are you all insane?! Elias, last night when those two zombies lunged at me, you ran to save your sister. If Nova hadn’t killed them to save me, I’d be dead right now! How could she possibly be the Zombie King you’re talking about?!” At the mention of last night, Elias’s jaw clenched, but he said nothing. Chloe smirked. “Sarah, you’re not blaming Elias for saving me, are you?” Sarah gritted her teeth. “I didn’t say that.” “If you want your friend to keep traveling with us and ease everyone’s fears, then let her go outside and prove herself.” Chloe pointed a finger toward the few zombies visible outside the door. Sensing the presence of living humans, they were slowly converging on our location. “If she’s not the Zombie King, if she’s not one of them, those zombies will definitely attack her. How about it?” Sarah’s hand clamped onto my wrist like an iron vise, her nails digging into my flesh. “I won’t let you go out there.” Her voice was shaking, her eyes red and desperate. “Nova, you can’t go out. There are zombies outside—” “Sarah, if you truly care about your friend, don’t stand in her way.” Chloe leaned in behind Elias, her tone casual. “If she’s clean, the zombies will attack her, and we’ll just pull her back inside. It’s easy.” “Bullshit!” Sarah spun around and screamed at her, her voice raw. “One bite and you’re infected! You make it sound so simple!” “Well, if she doesn’t go out, how can she prove it?” Chloe shrugged. “Right, Elias?” Elias didn’t respond. But he never lowered the metal spike. Several other evolved members had scattered, taking positions that implicitly formed a semi-circle around us. They weren’t waiting for an answer; they were waiting for the signal to attack. I looked down at Sarah’s hand. Every finger was straining, as if she believed that as long as she didn’t let go, no one could take me away. I pried her fingers open, one by one. She held on tightly, refusing to let go, so I had to apply a little pressure. “Let go.” I looked into her eyes. “You can’t protect me.” Sarah looked like she had been slapped. Her fingers went rigid. Then, one by one, they loosened their grip. As her hand fell away, a flash of a memory from twenty years ago crossed my mind. That night, two men in white coats were dragging me toward a car. Sarah had chased after us, grabbing my arm with both hands, gripping with all her might. She lost a shoe, her knees got scraped bloody on the concrete, and even after being kicked away, she got back up to keep chasing. She chased us for three blocks. Later, I heard her say something over the phone to someone; she thought I couldn’t hear. She said, “I couldn’t hold on to her.” It wasn’t a statement of fact. It sounded like a confession of guilt. This time, she couldn’t hold on either. I turned and walked toward the door.

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The seventh time Arthur Vance locked me in the estate’s freezing attic to “reflect on my sins,” the long-delayed System finally spoke to me: As long as you die, you can return to your original world. And so, I became the perfect, emotionless high-society wife. I stopped caring that Arthur frequently spent his nights in his widowed sister-in-law’s bedroom. I stopped fighting for his broken promise of monogamy, and I stopped fighting for control over the estate’s finances. When my own son knocked over the meal I had spent hours cooking for him in absolute disgust, I didn’t scold him. I simply had the maid wipe his hands and calmly told him I would never cook for him again. Even when the head butler brought me that cup of abortifacient tea—even knowing I was already pregnant—I drank it down without a single second of hesitation. By the time Arthur rushed into the room, all he saw was a blinding pool of crimson on the floor. He drew his tactical blade, pointing it directly at my throat. His usually calm, authoritative voice was trembling with a total mental breakdown. “Claire Bennett, do you really hate me this much?!” “You grew up studying medicine! You knew how lethal that drug was, yet you’re so vicious you couldn’t even tolerate our own flesh and blood?!” Looking at the gleaming edge of the blade, I let out a relieved smile. And then, I thrust my body directly onto the knife. …… The exact second the blade pierced my flesh, Arthur’s pupils violently shrank. He desperately yanked the knife back. But he was a fraction of a second too late. The razor-sharp edge sliced across my neck. Beads of crimson blood rolled down, staining the pure white collar of my dress. With a loud clatter, the blade dropped to the floor. Arthur fell to one knee, frantically pressing his hands against my neck to stop the bleeding. “Claire! Have you completely lost your mind?!” I sighed internally. What a shame. Seeing that I hadn’t managed to kill myself, I finally answered his first question. “Mr. Vance, you told me yourself that having one son was more than enough.” “If I were to give birth to another child, wouldn’t that make your widowed sister-in-law—who only managed to give you a daughter—look bad?” Arthur’s breath hitched violently in his throat. “What did you just call me?” I fell silent. It was only then that I realized just how incredibly estranged Arthur and I had become. After we got married, I always loved calling him by his first name. Because of that, his elitist mother constantly ridiculed me for being a low-class commoner with no respect for authority. But I had always stubbornly refused to change. Now, I had finally learned my place. The fingers pressing against my neck suddenly tightened. I let out a gasp of pain, and only then did he loosen his grip slightly. Arthur’s voice, grinding through clenched teeth, echoed in my ear. “I told you. My older brother dying in that accident was a tragedy. Me stepping in as a surrogate to provide his widow with an heir was an absolute, desperate necessity to secure her portion of the family trust.” “As soon as my brother’s line has a male heir, I swear I will never touch Serena again.” “I am begging you, just wait a little longer. Please?” That single word—wait—kept me sleeping in an empty, freezing bed for three entire years. From visiting her once a month, it escalated to him spending almost every single night in her room. My only companions were burnt-out candles and endless, exhausted tears. When Serena finally got pregnant, I thought the nightmare was over. But Arthur used the excuse of “taking care of his fragile sister-in-law” to permanently move his belongings into the West Wing. I waited through another agonizing year of seasons changing. But the child Serena gave birth to was a daughter, Mia. Seeing that Arthur was preparing to continue sleeping in her room to try again, I couldn’t wait anymore. I started throwing tantrums. I forbade him from stepping foot in the West Wing. I acted like a hysterical, screaming lunatic, sobbing and threatening to end my own life. I did all of those things because I just wanted a husband who belonged solely to me. But in Arthur’s eyes, my desperation morphed into the unforgivable, toxic actions of a jealous, petty woman. Yet, when he proposed to me years ago, he swore that what he loved most about me was my fiery, unapologetic personality. He promised me that after we married, I would be his only woman. He swore he would never take a mistress, and that he would never lock me away in a gilded cage. But in our seventh year of marriage, in order to establish absolute authority for the widowed Serena, Arthur locked me in the freezing attic in front of the entire household staff. Over and over again. He told me I needed to learn to be as gentle and magnanimous as Serena. He told me I needed to learn how a true high-society matriarch behaved. My knees were bruised black and blue from kneeling on the hardwood. My hands shook in agony from being forced to transcribe hundreds of pages of etiquette manuscripts and apologies. And all I got in return was his disappointed sigh: “Claire, when are you finally going to grow up and be reasonable?” Even the child currently bleeding out of my womb was an accident. It happened after Mia’s one-month milestone party, when a blackout-drunk Arthur stumbled into the wrong bedroom. At the time, I foolishly thought he had come to make peace, and I allowed him to have his way with me. But right as he reached his climax, he slurred the name of his sister-in-law. The suffocating agony of the past surged up my throat. I swallowed it down along with the metallic taste of blood. I looked up at him, enunciating every single word: “Mr. Vance, you no longer need to feed me these fake promises to placate me.” “From this day forward, wherever you want to go, go. Whoever you want to sleep with, sleep with them. I will not utter a single word of complaint.” “And if you are still dissatisfied, I am perfectly willing to sign the divorce papers and step aside so you two lovers can finally be together.” Arthur’s chest heaved violently, the veins in his neck bulging. “Claire Bennett, how much longer are you going to torture me?!” “Serena and I are strictly family! There is absolutely zero romantic affection between us!” Listening to those words, one might actually believe he loved me to death. Yet he addressed me, his legal, lawfully wedded wife, by my full, cold name—Claire Bennett. But he affectionately called his sister-in-law “Serena.” I shook my head. “You’re overthinking it, Mr. Vance. I am being entirely sincere.” I don’t know which of my words triggered his fury again. Arthur violently let go of me. The back of my head slammed hard against the sharp edge of a wooden stool. I gasped as a blinding spike of pain shot through my skull. Panic flashed across his face, and he reached out to help me up. A freezing, mechanical voice echoed in my brain. [Host’s vital signs dropping rapidly. Estimated time until death countdown: 24 hours.] It turned out that the abortifacient tea, combined with the blood loss from the blade, had struck a fatal blow to my core. I shoved Arthur’s hand away, bracing myself against the floor as I shakily stood up. “Please leave, Mr. Vance. I am tired.” I walked right past him, heading toward the inner bedroom to rest. With every step I took, the blood dripping from beneath my skirt left a winding, horrific trail on the floorboards. Right at that moment, seven-year-old Noah burst through the doorway. He violently hurled his wooden toy sword directly at me. The jagged wood slashed across my cheek, leaving a stinging, bleeding scratch. Arthur was completely paralyzed by the sudden chaos for a second. Then, he aggressively snatched Noah up by the collar and delivered a harsh smack to his backside. “You little brat! What the hell are you doing?!” Noah wailed at the top of his lungs, but he stubbornly refused to admit he was wrong. “Dad, I don’t want this evil woman as my mom!” “Why can’t she just stay locked in the attic and never come out for the rest of her life?!” Arthur’s face turned livid. He barked coldly: “Who taught you to say such disrespectful things?!” Noah struggled out of Arthur’s grip, puffing out his cheeks in fury. “Dad, you told me yourself that you hate her!” “If she hadn’t saved your life at the bottom of that mountain, you never would have married a cheap, common doctor!” “Plus, she’s a petty, jealous witch who’s always bullying Aunt Serena! She doesn’t deserve to be the mother of this family at all!” Noah grew more energized the more he spoke. He pointed a tiny finger directly at my nose, his young, childish face contorted with absolute disgust. “You evil witch! Dad and I both hate you! Just disappear already!” They say children speak the unvarnished truth. His words acted like a meat grinder, taking the very last, microscopic shred of hope in my heart and shredding it to dust. Years ago, Arthur’s private military convoy was ambushed and pinned down in a lethal cartel zone in the valley. Ignoring the fact that I was seven months pregnant, I led a heavily armed extraction team to rescue him. We barely survived the bloodbath. I took dozens of knife wounds during the extraction. The trauma triggered premature labor. As I bled out on the delivery table, Arthur gripped my hand, his eyes burning red as he begged me: “Claire, please don’t leave me.” “If you die and leave me alone in this world, I’ll put a bullet in my own head and follow you.” Just to honor those words, I bit down on my lip and fought through the agony. Basin after basin of bloody water was carried out of the room. I miraculously survived the gates of hell. But because Noah was born so severely premature, the estate’s top pediatricians declared he wouldn’t live past three days. They told me to prepare a tiny coffin. I refused to believe them. Dragging my broken, unhealed body out of bed, I took care of him day and night. During that time, I read until the bindings of my medical textbooks fell apart, searching the world for the rarest, most potent medicines. Yet Noah’s cries only grew weaker and weaker. Driven to absolute desperation, I placed my final hope in a higher power. I did a grueling, agonizing pilgrimage to the St. Jude Mountain Sanctuary. Three steps, one bow. Five steps, one prostration. To this day, the five thousand stone steps leading up to the sanctuary still bear the faded stains of the blood from my knees and forehead. Perhaps the heavens were moved by my sincerity. After that day, Noah’s health miraculously began to stabilize. However, his immune system would always be significantly weaker than a full-term child’s. Whenever the temperature dropped, I would strictly confine him to his heated room to read and study. Serena, on the other hand, constantly indulged his every whim. Even in the dead of a freezing winter, she allowed him to gorge himself on bowls of ice cream. Within three days, Noah spiked a terrifyingly high fever, coughing so hard it sounded like his lungs were tearing. Arthur was busy with corporate warfare. Serena avoided the boy like the plague, terrified of catching whatever virus he had. I was the one who sat by his bedside for days without sleeping a wink. I sponge-bathed him over and over to lower his temperature, constantly inventing new, creative ways to brew foul-tasting medicines so he could keep them down. When he finally recovered, Noah blamed the entire miserable experience entirely on me. He threw tantrums, violently knocking over the bowls of medicine I had stayed up all night brewing for him. The boiling hot liquid splashed onto the back of my hand, leaving a massive, blistering burn scar. He grew to passionately hate me—the woman who forced him to drink bitter medicine. Yet he absolutely adored Serena, the woman who only ever gave him sweet treats and was the literal reason he got sick in the first place. Arthur’s face instantly darkened, and he aggressively shouted Noah down. “Noah, shut your mouth! Stop speaking nonsense!” Then, he looked at me with frantic panic, desperately trying to explain. “Noah is just a kid, he definitely heard the maids gossiping…” In the past, hearing those words would have shattered my heart. I would have put on a stern face and tried to teach Noah right from wrong. And every single time, all I got in return was a glare filled with pure, unadulterated hatred. Now, I was just so incredibly tired. I didn’t care to parent him anymore. Arthur also sensed that something was fundamentally wrong with my reaction. He frowned, studying my face, before stubbornly concluding that I was just playing hard to get. “Claire, what exactly are you trying to pull now?” “Putting on this ‘dead inside,’ indifferent act is just a pathetic, cheap imitation. You’re making a fool of yourself.” “Since the baby is already gone, you will stay confined to your quarters and rest your body. Stop constantly plotting against Serena and her daughter!” He grabbed Noah’s hand and stormed out of the room, violently flicking his coat. The exact second they crossed the threshold, the father and son began cheerfully discussing the widow and her daughter. Arthur mentioned he was going to buy Serena a breathtaking vintage diamond necklace at an exclusive auction. Noah said he was going to use his allowance to buy a solid gold locket for his new little sister. Meanwhile, pinned in my own hair, was the simple, cheap silver clip Arthur had given me when we first got engaged. Back then, he had looked at me nervously, telling me he crafted it with his own hands and begging me not to despise it. He swore that one day, he would buy me the most expensive, beautiful jewelry in the world. Back then, my heart was overflowing with sweet joy. I genuinely believed I had married the perfect man. But ten years had passed. The delicate plum blossoms carved into the silver clip had long since been worn completely smooth. And I had yet to see a single piece of the “new jewelry” Arthur had promised me. At the elite high-society galas, I was always the most poorly dressed, pathetic-looking wife in the room. Whenever I finally gathered the courage to ask for a budget to buy some jewelry, Arthur would instantly reject it, citing the estate’s massive overhead costs and the need for me to be frugal and responsible. Yet he would turn around and drop hundreds of thousands of dollars on imported, ultra-rare skincare serums just to make Serena smile. Looking back on it now, all my blind, desperate devotion had been thrown into a black hole. The freezing, mechanical voice echoed in my mind once again. [Detecting Host’s severe emotional depression. Countdown to world detachment: 10 hours.] I sat at my vanity, staring at the woman in the antique bronze mirror. Her face was haggard, her eyes swimming in a deep, lifeless exhaustion. I pulled the worn-out silver hair clip from my hair. My fingertips gently traced the faded, smooth lines where the plum blossoms used to be. Then, with a sharp twist of my wrist. SNAP. The silver clip broke into two pieces. I casually tossed them into the burning fireplace in the corner of the room. After dealing with that, I forced my failing body up and began cleaning the bedroom. I dug out all the custom ties, the hand-knitted scarves I had made for Arthur over the years, and all the tiny, handmade clothes I had sewn for Noah. Two massive, overflowing trunks. Every single stitch was woven with my desperate hopes for this family. But right now, I just wanted to watch it all burn. The roaring flames illuminated my body, bringing a profound, comforting warmth that I hadn’t felt in a very long time. I waited until the very last ember disintegrated into ash. Then, I laid down on my bed, quietly waiting for the System’s countdown to reach zero. Suddenly, the bedroom door was violently kicked open. Arthur had returned. He stormed into the room, his face a mask of pure fury, and violently dragged me off the mattress. “Claire Bennett, I knew you couldn’t just sit quietly and behave!” A Voodoo doll, completely covered in long, silver sewing needles, was hurled directly at my feet. Serena was standing in the doorway, clutching her infant daughter to her chest, looking as if she were about to pass out from crying into Arthur’s shoulder. “Arthur, I refuse to believe Claire would do something this evil.” “But this doll has so many needles shoved into it, and Mia’s exact birth date and time are written on the back… I can’t help but be terrified…” Before she could even finish her sentence, Arthur’s face had darkened to the color of a thundercloud. He raised his heavy boot and delivered a brutal, full-force kick directly to my chest. “Claire, I tolerated your petty jealousy and your tantrums!” “But I never imagined you were malicious enough to use disgusting, dark magic curses on an innocent baby!” A massive mouthful of blood exploded from my lips, splattering across the floor. The wound on my neck violently ripped open again. Arthur looked down at me with absolute, towering superiority, his eyes filled with overwhelming disappointment. “What? Too terrified to even try and explain yourself now?” I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth. My gaze swept over the supposed “evidence,” and I let out a low, dark chuckle. “The fabric used to make this doll is exclusive Parisian haute couture silk. Even the A-list celebrities in Hollywood are waitlisted for months just to get a single yard of it.” “Mr. Vance, your heart bled so deeply for your sister-in-law that you took every single roll of that silk in the estate’s vault and had it delivered directly to the West Wing.” “So please, enlighten me: how did it magically turn into evidence of me cursing your niece?” Hearing this, Arthur’s face drastically changed. His eyes remained glued to the Voodoo doll on the floor for a very long time. Serena’s face, which had just been a masterpiece of tragic, weeping beauty, instantly turned as white as a sheet of paper. “What are you implying? Are you accusing me of framing you?!” “I did use that fabric to make dresses, but I lost the scraps a few days ago…” “ENOUGH!” Arthur barked, violently cutting her off. It was glaringly obvious he had absolutely no desire to investigate the gaping plot holes in this setup. In his heart, Serena was a fragile, gentle angel who would never lie or harm another living soul. Therefore, I had to be the one who was wrong. “Claire, how much longer are you going to twist the truth and argue?!” “Mia was just born, and Serena’s health is incredibly fragile. How could she possibly withstand your toxic, psychotic scheming?!” “Since you cannot tolerate the people in this house, this house will no longer tolerate you.” He waved his hand with absolute, dictatorial finality. “Guards! Drag her to the cellar and force her to her knees!” “Without my explicit permission, do not give her a single drop of water or a single grain of rice!” “When she finally admits she’s wrong, you can let her out!” I didn’t bother defending myself again. I had pointed out the massive, glaring holes in the evidence, and Arthur had deliberately chosen to play blind. Honestly, the cellar was quiet. It was the perfect place to sit and wait for death. But as the rough, brutish guards began aggressively dragging me across the floor, Arthur’s heart inexplicably skipped a beat. “Wait!” I paused my steps, but I didn’t turn around. “Does Mr. Vance have any further instructions? Are you going to divorce this evil, toxic woman, or are you going to demand I pay with my life?” Arthur opened his mouth, but he had absolutely no idea what to say. Finally, he waved his hand in deep, agitated frustration, barking an order to the butler standing nearby. “Make sure the private trauma surgeon takes a look at her wounds. I don’t want any ugly rumors spreading to the press.” I let out a mocking, cynical laugh. A brutal beating, followed by a piece of candy? It was a tragic shame. Even if God Himself descended from heaven, He wouldn’t be able to save my life now. That brutal kick from Arthur had completely shattered the remaining fragile arteries around my heart. The System whispered: I had exactly three hours left to live. The cellar was pitch black. The agonizing physical pain in my body was slowly mutating into a heavy numbness. For some reason, I started thinking about all those days and nights I had spent locked in the attic. In the beginning, I knelt and prayed with absolute devotion, begging for nothing but Noah’s safety and health. Later, when I was locked up as a punishment, my heart was filled with nothing but suffocating injustice. Back then, I always prayed for the time to pass quickly. I wanted to get out so I could see Arthur, so I could desperately explain myself and clear my name. I wanted time with Noah, terrified that if we were apart too long, my son would become estranged from me. Right now, I was still praying for the time to pass quickly. So I could die faster, and finally return to the modern, equitable era where I truly belonged. I don’t know how much time passed, but a blistering fever consumed my body. In my hazy, delirious state, I heard a massive, chaotic commotion exploding outside the cellar. I fought with everything I had to force my eyes open. Through the cracks in the rotting wooden door, I saw my father. He looked exhausted, having clearly rushed straight here. He was clutching his medical bag, but he was being physically blocked in the courtyard by a wall of estate guards. Serena was standing safely under the covered walkway, her eyes dripping with pure, unadulterated malice. “Mr. Vance has given absolute orders. No one is permitted to visit.” Arthur rushed to the scene upon hearing the noise, his brow furrowing deeply as he took in the standoff. Before my father could even open his mouth to explain, Serena threw herself dramatically into Arthur’s arms, violently shaking in fake terror. “This man just trespassed into the private family quarters! He tried to sexually assault me!” “Arthur, you have to get justice for me!” My father trembled with apocalyptic rage. “You lying, venomous snake!” “I am an old man! Why on earth would I do something so repulsive?!” Arthur’s face turned to absolute ice. “Claire is locked in solitary confinement because she committed a severe crime.” “And you come bursting in here with absolutely zero respect for the law. If the press gets ahold of this, her reputation will be completely destroyed.” “Guards! Give him thirty strikes with the cane! Let this be a warning to anyone else who tries to break my rules!” Thirty strikes with a heavy cane. That was more than enough to literally beat an elderly man to death. “DAD—!” I desperately, frantically pounded my bleeding fists against the wooden window frame. Arthur shot a glare toward the cellar, but then coldly, indifferently looked away. The old man who had protected me from every storm my entire life was brutally shoved face-down into the freezing snow. The heavy, sickening THWACK of the wooden cane hitting flesh and bone slammed into my heart over and over again. Arthur Vance. You are a heartless, psychopathic monster. [Host’s vital signs are in catastrophic failure. You have exactly three minutes remaining.] A thin, fragile silhouette came stumbling frantically toward the cellar. It was Sarah. The loyal maid who had accompanied me into the Vance estate on the day I married. She had waited until the guards were distracted, stolen the heavy iron key to the cellar, and sprinted here. But just as she managed to unlock the heavy door, a guard noticed her and brought a tactical machete down in a brutal arc, completely severing her right hand. That was the exact hand that had embroidered handkerchiefs for me. The hand that had held my medicine bowls when I was sick. Sarah’s face went ghastly white from the sheer, incomprehensible agony, but she used her remaining left hand to fiercely grip the doorframe. “Ms. Claire, run! Go to the back gate, I already have a car waiting for you…” Before she could finish her sentence, the guard drove the blade brutally through Sarah’s chest. Sarah’s entire body collapsed backward onto the snow. By the time I dragged my broken body out of the cellar and collapsed beside her, Sarah… wasn’t breathing anymore. An apocalyptic, towering inferno of hatred exploded in my chest. I ripped the bloody blade from the guard’s hands and stumbled wildly into the courtyard. In the center of the estate, Arthur was standing with his arms crossed, watching my father being beaten half to death with cold, dead eyes. Hearing the commotion, he whipped his head around and barked aggressively: “Claire Bennett! Who the hell let you out?!” I threw my body over my father’s fading, bloodied form, shielding him from the blows. “ALL OF YOU, STOP IT RIGHT NOW!” A dark, dangerous fury began to pool in Arthur’s eyes. “Claire. Are you genuinely so arrogant that you think I won’t severely punish you?” Right in front of his eyes, I pulled the heavy, blood-soaked blade from the folds of my ruined dress. Arthur let out a cold, mocking laugh. “What? Threatening suicide again?” “You’ve used this pathetic trick a million times. I’m completely sick of looking at it.” “If you actually have the guts, then go ahead and…” [Detachment from current world countdown: 10 seconds.] [9, 8, 7…] Before he could finish his sentence, I drove the heavy steel blade brutally and flawlessly directly into my own heart. “Thirty strikes with the cane. I am paying you back, with interest, using my own life!” Crimson blood erupted like a geyser from my chest, violently splattering directly across Arthur’s face. The arrogant, mocking superiority in his eyes instantly shattered, replaced by a massive, apocalyptic tidal wave of absolute terror.

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Everyone in the military base housing envied me. I was the “slow” girl, yet I was going to be the wife of Captain Liam Hayes. But they didn’t know that when I was eight years old, I took a hit meant for him. That incident nearly cost me my life, and it permanently froze my mental development at that age. Knowing he owed me an unpayable debt, Liam promised to marry me. He promised to treat me well for the rest of his life. And for a long time, he actually did. While the other officers’ wives were elegant, sophisticated, and perfectly poised, Liam never found me embarrassing. He never minded how slow or clumsy I was. Once, during a devastating flash flood, he even gave up his spot on the rescue chopper for me. Until… Mia showed up. Her arrival made Liam’s trips home fewer and farther between. Even the little boy we had adopted together started saying: “I wish Auntie Mia was my mom. I don’t want a stupid girl for a mother!” Before I even had time to process the heartbreak, I was sent away to a rundown cabin in the country, where I died alone in the freezing drafts. When I opened my eyes again, I was unexpectedly back on the exact day Liam was supposed to fulfill his childhood promise. But this time, I didn’t want his guilt. And I didn’t want to marry him anymore. I didn’t understand why, but I should have been dead. Dead in that dilapidated, freezing cabin. But when I opened my eyes, I saw Liam, standing tall and handsome in his crisp military uniform. He asked me gently, “Ellie, let me take care of you forever, okay?” I lowered my eyes, knowing this meant we would spend the rest of our lives together. Because the last time he asked, I agreed, and not long after, I put on a white wedding dress. Honestly, marrying Liam was something I used to be thrilled about. It had been my birthday wish every single year since I was eight. But my head was spinning. It felt like I had just woken up from a vivid, identical dream. In that dream, Liam said the exact same thing. Then he married me, but shortly after our wedding, he regretted it. The very last time I saw him in that dream, I was crying, clutching his hand, begging him not to throw me away. He coldly shook me off. His voice was so tired, so utterly exhausted. “Ellie, please, just let me go.” “You took that hit for me when we were kids. I owe you, I know. But I’ve poured my heart and soul into taking care of you for all these years. Isn’t the debt paid by now?” “Just have some mercy. Sign the divorce papers. Let Mia and me be together.” Mia was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. In my memories, Liam was always by her side. I heard the other wives on the base whispering about her. They said Mia was incredible. She was a brilliant, highly educated researcher who had just returned from studying in Europe. The kind of person I could never compare to in a million lifetimes. They also said she and Liam were a match made in heaven, unlike him and me—a slow girl who could barely even read. I had pouted. I felt so wronged. Actually… I wasn’t born slow. I grew up with Liam. We went to elementary school together, and teachers used to call me bright. But when I was eight, I drank a glass of poisoned cider that was meant for him. When I woke up, a crowd was gathered around my hospital bed. A doctor with a white beard shook his head and sighed. “There’s no cure. Severe neurological damage. She’ll be like this for the rest of her life.” Back then, I didn’t understand what “the rest of her life” meant. But I remember Liam holding me tight, crying endlessly. He shed so many tears. Finally, the little boy made a promise: “Ellie, I’m so sorry.” “When you grow up, we’ll get married. I’ll take care of you forever.” I didn’t know what marriage really meant, but Liam said marriage meant two people getting to stay together forever. My eyes instantly lit up. I smiled so wide my cheeks hurt. That sounded wonderful. I loved Liam more than anything. I wanted us to be together forever. But for some reason, after that day, the kids on the base stopped playing with me. They walked around me. They would huddle in groups far away and secretly point and laugh. I ran to Liam and asked him why. He comforted me so patiently: “It’s okay. Our Ellie is just a little sick right now. When you get better, your friends will come back.” “Besides, you have me, right? I’ll play with you.” “I’ll always stay with you, Ellie.” And he kept his word. He took care of my every need. When I turned nineteen, Liam kept his promise and married me. But shortly after, he met Mia. And he regretted it. The very first time I heard the phrase “love of my life” come out of Liam’s mouth… It was when he was describing Mia. Liam didn’t know that on the day he asked for a divorce, I wasn’t plotting anything. I had no intention of clinging to him. I just wanted to ask if he could please not send me back to that empty cabin in the country, because it was too lonely there. But the more anxious I got, the harder it was to form a complete sentence. Huge tears just kept rolling down my cheeks. That was when little Noah stepped forward. He was the son of Liam’s fallen squadmate. Liam and I had adopted him together. I knew the little guy never liked me. He thought I was an embarrassment. So when Liam brought up the divorce, Noah quickly shoved me away. He glared at me viciously. “You burden! You’re just dead weight! How much longer are you going to drag my dad down?” “Get out! Get out of our house! Auntie Mia is coming over soon, and she’s going to be my real mom! I don’t want a stupid girl for a mother!” Liam was also disgusted by my crying. In the end, I was sent away to the country, where I died in that broken-down cabin. A cold sweat broke out across my back. The dream felt too real. So real that it chilled me to the bone. I didn’t want to die. So I gently pushed Liam away and waved my hands frantically. “Let’s not do that, Liam.” For the first time, a look of utter confusion crossed his face. Before he could ask why, two soldiers in uniform walked in and saluted him. They told him there was a new mission. Liam hastily said goodbye, telling me to take good care of myself before he left. I watched his back as he walked away. If I remembered correctly, this was the exact rescue mission where he was going to meet Mia. I really didn’t expect Mia and I to cross paths so soon. A week later, she showed up at my door with gifts. She said she wanted to thank Liam for saving her life. She covered my table with beautiful, delicate pastries. Mrs. Higgins, the sweet older lady who lived next door, pulled me aside to warn me. “Ellie, honey, you need to keep your eyes open. You aren’t officially married yet, and you have no idea how many women are gunning for your Captain.” When she said that, her eyes were locked onto Mia. Seeing that I still didn’t react, Mrs. Higgins patted my head and sighed. “Oh, you poor, sweet girl.” Then, she turned her head and quietly spat in Mia’s direction, muttering, “Homewrecker.” Mrs. Higgins told me that after Liam saved Mia, she had used “gratitude” as an excuse to invite him out to dinner multiple times. People had spotted them alone at the local diner more than once. Mrs. Higgins knew I had saved Liam’s life, and she knew about our arrangement, so she was trying to help me guard against Mia. But I just shook my head. After that vivid dream, I was more certain than ever that I couldn’t use a childhood debt to hold Liam hostage. He deserved to choose his own life. And I wanted my freedom, too. I didn’t want to stay in the Hayes household anymore. After all, besides Liam, no one there actually liked me. In stark contrast to me, Mia was incredibly popular. Liam’s grandmother absolutely adored her. How much? She would constantly hold Mia’s hand, pushing her toward Liam, saying the family was just missing a granddaughter-in-law exactly like her. During their very first meeting, Grandma Hayes even gave Mia the antique diamond bracelet that had been passed down through the family for generations. I remembered Liam telling me that bracelet was meant for his future wife. Liam happened to be walking downstairs when it happened. Hearing his grandmother’s words, he frowned, clearly displeased. He stopped her. “Grandma, stop talking nonsense. I’m marrying Ellie.” But even though Liam said he was marrying me, he and Mia were becoming increasingly inseparable. Coincidentally, Liam’s newest assignment was to act as the protective detail for this brilliant researcher. As a result, they were glued to each other. The people on the base laughed at me constantly. They would walk right up to my face and joke: “Ellie, your man took Mia to the movies again.” “Hey there, slowpoke, the Captain took someone to the mall today.” “Does the Captain even want you anymore? We all saw him buy Mia a gorgeous dress. Did he buy you one?” Whenever they started talking like that, I would run out and sit under the old oak tree by the gate. I wouldn’t say I was heartbroken. I really was fine with not marrying Liam. But could he please not abandon me? I didn’t want to be completely alone. I… needed family. Liam treated me well, and he was all I had left. If we couldn’t be husband and wife, could I just be his little sister? I picked up a twig and drew circles in the dirt. The answer was no. A couple of weeks before Thanksgiving, Grandma Hayes took Noah and me to the department store downtown. She wanted to buy some holiday treats and toys. And right there, we bumped into Liam. And Mia. At that exact moment, he was looking at her with absolute tenderness, gently helping her tie a silk scarf around her neck. From the back, they looked like a perfect, beautiful match. Little Noah immediately squeezed next to me, gloating proudly. “See that? That’s the kind of person who actually deserves my dad.” “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll pack your bags and leave, you dead weight.” Mhm… Noah loved calling me that. Dead weight. A burden. I bit my lip, just about to pinch his cheek and tell him: Listen here, kid. I can be really mean. I’m not someone you want to mess with. But when I looked up, I locked eyes with Liam. Seeing me, he completely panicked, instantly putting a massive distance between himself and Mia. He rushed over to explain, “Look, Ellie, it’s not what you think. Mia and I are just…” I didn’t wait for him to finish. I just nodded. I didn’t blame him. Truly. Ever since that dream, I knew that the Liam who met Mia was no longer just my Liam. I just didn’t expect Mia to take him away so absolutely, so completely. Because that night, I came down with a terrifyingly high fever. Maybe I hadn’t worn enough clothes at the mall. Usually, when I got sick, Liam would make me hot tea, stay right by my bed, and tell me stories until I fell asleep. But this time, a single phone call from Mia changed everything. I heard her crying through the receiver. “Liam, I sprained my ankle. It hurts so badly. Can you take me to the ER?” Liam didn’t hesitate for a second. As he headed for the door, I made one last, desperate attempt. “Liam, can you not go? I feel really sick too.” Liam grabbed his truck keys, not even turning around. He brushed me off. “Be a good girl, Ellie. I need to get Mia to the hospital, it’s an emergency.” “I’ll bring you your favorite caramel apples when I get back.” And then he was gone. The house he left behind was suffocatingly quiet. Not a single sound. I rolled over in bed, tears streaming down my face. I cried because, once again, I had no family. It was true. Liam… my Liam, was no longer my family. I knew I wasn’t smart. But when my mom was still alive, she told me: No matter what happens, family will never abandon you when you need them most. Liam’s excuse—it’s an emergency—translated to one simple truth: Mia was more important than me. I curled into a tight ball under the covers. I waited, and waited. By the time the middle of the night rolled around, Liam still hadn’t returned. I was dizzy with fever, my throat parched and burning. I had to get out of bed to boil some water myself. I guess I really am just clumsy and stupid. So stupid that I tripped over my own feet just trying to get a glass of water. I hit my head hard against the edge of the cabinet. I saw stars. I finally understood why, in my dream, Liam had slowly grown to resent me. Just like Noah said, I really was a burden. I was dead weight. I couldn’t do anything right. I bit down hard on my lip to stop myself from crying out loud. It hurt… It hurt so much. My forehead was throbbing. I mimicked the way my mom used to comfort me when I was little, whispering to myself: Don’t cry, Ellie. Be a good girl. Ellie is the bravest. Ellie is… is very strong. But the more I whispered, the faster the tears fell. Mom, I miss you so much. I miss you and Dad. You were the only ones who never thought I was stupid. I crouched on the floor, sobbing quietly. That night, the moon and stars were completely hidden behind dark storm clouds. I dug through my closet and pulled out a floral dress my mom had made for me years ago. I used it as a pillow, and finally cried myself into a heavy sleep. My fever raged on and off for days. It wasn’t until Thanksgiving arrived that I finally started feeling better. During that entire time, Liam stayed by Mia’s side. He didn’t forget I was sick, though. But every time he showed even the slightest inclination to come check on me, Mia conveniently found a reason to call him away. I got used to it. In my dream, this exact scenario had played out countless times. Perhaps out of guilt for abandoning me while I was sick, Liam went out of his way to buy me a bunch of my favorite pastries. And peanut butter cups. I had a massive sweet tooth. Ever since my parents passed away, candy was the only thing that could reach the bitter depths of my heart. Sitting on the sofa, Noah rolled his eyes at me. “Are you a baby? I stopped eating that childish junk years ago.” I pressed my lips together, clutching a crumpled candy wrapper in my hand, saying nothing. Of course Noah didn’t need candy. Even though he didn’t have his biological parents, he had Liam to dote on him. He had Grandma Hayes to spoil him. I was different. I only had candy. It was the only sweetness I could actually hold onto. Later that evening, the Thanksgiving family dinner began. Liam finally came home. He wasn’t alone. He brought Mia with him. Liam explained that it was Mia’s first holiday back in the States, her family was still in Europe, and she didn’t have many friends around here yet. So, he just brought her home. Mia walked up to me with a brilliant smile, handing me a beautifully wrapped gift box. “Ellie, I heard you love sweets. This is my Thanksgiving gift to you.” She winked at me. “I had a friend specifically send these from a boutique down south. You have to try them.” I didn’t want them. But after glancing at the warning look on Liam’s face, I took the box. Pecan pralines. All the color drained from my face. There was absolutely no way Liam didn’t know that I had a severe, life-threatening allergy to pecans. I realized then that I truly despised Mia. Especially when she tried to force me to eat something that could kill me. When it was just the two of us left in the living room, she aggressively pushed her gift on me. “Ellie, just take one bite. Don’t you love candy?” I ignored her, shifting my seat further away. She followed me. “Ellie, it was so hard to get these imported. Why are you being so disrespectful?” Mia aggressively tried to shove one of the pralines toward my mouth. I slapped her hand away. During the scuffle, a glass cup on the side table was knocked to the floor. It shattered into a dozen pieces. It was a custom, matching couple’s cup I had hand-painted for Liam and me. Now it was shattered, just like the far-from-perfect ending Liam and I had in my dream. Mia reached down to pick up the pieces, and a shard of glass sliced her finger. It was a long, bleeding cut. Her eyes instantly welled up with tears of pain. Liam walked into the room at that exact moment. Mia stood pitifully next to the broken glass. She pointed a trembling finger at me. “Liam, I just wanted Ellie to try the candy I brought her, and she aggressively refused. Does your family really hate me being here that much?” Before Liam could even speak, Noah rushed over. “Auntie Mia, it’s not your fault! Evelyn is just a weirdo, none of us like her anyway!” “She’s stupid. Don’t let her get to you.” “Does your finger hurt?” Seeing Mia bleeding, Liam’s face turned terrifyingly dark. “Ellie, apologize.” I didn’t understand. I just didn’t want to eat the candy that would make me deathly ill. Why did I have to apologize? I refused. But the price of not apologizing was that I had to eat the pecan pralines. Liam said that eating them was the only way to prove I wasn’t intentionally disrespecting Mia’s kindness. I stood frozen in the middle of the room. My throat bobbed. I wanted to scream, Why? Why are you treating me like this? Didn’t you say you’d treat me well for the rest of your life? Didn’t you say Ellie was the most important thing to you? But Liam was unyielding. Either I apologized, or I ate the candy. Noah stood protectively in front of Mia. The two of them, father and son, stood like a united front, guarding a woman they had only known for a few months.

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To murder my husband, Richard Vance, I spent an entire year preparing. I smiled as I saw him off on his mountain expedition. I had secretly swapped his GPS for a dummy model that would never emit a signal, ensuring he would vanish forever in the treacherous, uninhabited wilderness. I coldly calculated the timeline of him getting lost, succumbing to hypothermia, and eventually dying of sheer exhaustion. The plan was flawless. I had even prepared my eulogy for his funeral. Ten days later, the search and rescue team called. The voice on the other end was bone-chilling: “Mrs. Vance, we found your husband. However, there is another body right next to him.” When the phone rang, I was trimming a dying pothos plant in the living room. It was Richard’s favorite plant. He used to say green represented vitality and brought good luck to his business. What he didn’t know was that every single day, I watered its roots with boiling water. I watched it wither day by day, just as I imagined Richard’s life slowly draining away in the snowy mountains. The caller ID showed an unknown number from the state where Richard had gone climbing. It’s time. My heart started to pound—not out of fear, but from a suppressed, overwhelming ecstasy that was about to burst out of my chest. I took a deep breath, forcing my voice to sound perfectly hoarse and trembling, like a woman who had spent countless days and nights washing her face with tears. “Hello?” The voice on the other end was steady and cold, carrying a sort of official detachment. “Is this Harper Evans, Mrs. Vance? We are calling from the Mountain Search and Rescue Team.” I covered my mouth, squeezing out broken sobs, perfectly mimicking a wife anxiously awaiting news of her husband. “Yes… it’s me! Is there… is there news about Richard?” The man hesitated for a moment, seemingly choosing his words carefully. “Yes, Mrs. Vance. We found your husband.” Found. That word was like a key, instantly unlocking the dark cellar in my heart. Countless fireworks exploded in my mind, every single one spelling out the word “Freedom.” I almost laughed out loud, quickly covering it up with more violent sobbing. “Is… is he okay?” I asked the question knowing the answer, relishing this final, cruel game. The line went silent again, this time for a little longer. “Mrs. Vance, I am so sorry for your loss. Mr. Vance has no vital signs.” My body went limp, and I allowed myself to slide down onto the carpet. The phone slipped from my grasp, hitting the floor with a dull thud. I let out a gut-wrenching wail into the empty air. If you’re going to act, you have to commit to the bit. My neighbors had likely heard my continuous crying over the past few days. Now, this wail was the grand finale of the show. I picked up the phone, continuing my performance with a voice ragged from crying: “How… how could this happen… He said the route was perfectly safe…” “Mrs. Vance.” The man interrupted my performance, a strange undertone in his voice. “The situation at the scene is… a bit complicated.” “There is another body next to him.” My heart plummeted. The blood in my veins seemed to freeze instantly. A body? That bastard! Richard actually took his mistress out there to fool around! A sick sense of satisfaction washed over me, mixed with the humiliation of betrayal and the thrill of revenge. Good riddance! They deserved to die! That cheating pair deserved to be buried together in the freezing snow, never to return! I suppressed the upward twitch of my lips, asking with a trembling voice, blending the humiliation and pain of a “victim wife”: “Is it… is it a woman?” The man on the phone—who I later learned was Detective Miller—fell silent once more. This time, his voice was colder than a Siberian blizzard. “It’s a male.” Boom— My mind went completely blank. Every pore on my body stood on end from sudden, sheer terror. Not a mistress? A man? Who could it be? There was never a second man in my plan. From scouting the route and tracking the weather, to researching Richard’s physical limits and swapping the GPS, every step had been simulated thousands of times in my head. It was supposed to be perfect. Foolproof. This extra man was like a nuclear bomb dropping out of nowhere, threatening to obliterate my entire world. Who was he? A hiking buddy Richard made plans with? Impossible. Richard was arrogant and selfish; he never hiked with others. He loved the thrill of conquering nature alone. A random hiker who had an accident? Then why would he die right next to Richard? Or… or did he know about my plan? That thought made my blood run cold. My teeth began to chatter uncontrollably. My brain raced through the storm of panic, running through a million possibilities. Every single one pointed to a fatal, unpredictable flaw in my scheme. I forced myself to maintain my composure, asking with a trembling voice: “Who is he? Why would he… why would he be with my husband?” Detective Miller’s voice betrayed no emotion: “His identity is currently unknown. We need family members to come down and identify the remains. Also, Mrs. Vance, it’s best if you come here immediately. Certain circumstances are quite… unique.” He emphasized the word “unique.” Hanging up the phone, I rushed to the bathroom, staring at my pale face in the mirror. On that face, the shell of grief I had carefully constructed over the past ten days showed its first hairline crack. Fear crawled up from the depths of my heart like ivy, wrapping tightly around my throat. I turned on the faucet, splashing freezing water on my face over and over, trying to force myself to calm down. Harper, pull yourself together. You planned this for a year. You cannot fall apart now. No matter who that man was, he was already dead. Dead men tell no tales. As long as I kept my mouth shut, no one would know about the GPS. Richard’s death would just be a tragic hiking accident. Yes, an accident. I repeated those words to myself in the mirror until the fear on my face was replaced by a dull numbness. I changed into a simple black outfit and wore no makeup. My pale, exhausted appearance would be my best disguise. Before I left the house, I took one last look at the pothos plant I had killed with my own hands. Its leaves were completely yellow and lifeless. How nice, I thought. It finally doesn’t have to pretend to thrive anymore. Just like me. By the time I arrived at the city where the rescue team was headquartered, it was the afternoon of the next day. The air smelled strangely of bleach mixed with the scent of death. Detective Miller was waiting for me at the entrance. He was a tall man in his forties, with tanned skin and eyes as sharp as a hawk’s—eyes that looked like they could pierce straight into the darkest corners of a person’s soul. He skipped the pleasantries, simply looking me up and down before leading me toward the morgue. “Mrs. Vance, my condolences,” he said, his voice even harder than it was on the phone. “What’s inside might be disturbing. Please prepare yourself.” I nodded, lowering my eyes to let my long lashes hide my emotions. The lighting in the morgue was a sterile, freezing white. The chill seeped into my bones from all directions. In the center of the room, two gurneys covered in white sheets lay side by side. My heart began to pound wildly. Detective Miller walked over to one of the gurneys and looked at me blankly. I took a deep breath and stepped forward. The moment the white sheet was pulled back, Richard’s frostbitten, purplish face, contorted in agony, appeared before my eyes. His eyes were still open, filled with terror and bitterness, as if he had seen something unspeakably horrifying right before he died. My stomach churned, a strong wave of nausea rushing up my throat. It wasn’t out of grief, but out of visceral, biological disgust. This face had appeared in my deepest nightmares countless times. He would smile and say the most vicious things in the gentlest tone. “Harper, you put too much salt in the fish today. So stupid.” Then he would pour the scalding hot broth right over the back of my hand. “Harper, look at you. You can’t even mop the floor right. What use was marrying you?” Then he would kick me hard in the stomach. “Harper, are you thinking about that broke ex-boyfriend of yours again? You’re nothing but a cheap whore!” Then he would press a lit cigarette to my wrist, leaving behind brand after brand of shame. And now, he was finally dead. He died a miserable, ugly death. I should be thrilled. But I had to look devastated. I threw myself over his body, letting out a harrowing wail. My body trembled violently as I dry-heaved. The tears were real. They were tears of relief, pent up for five long years, finally breaking free. Detective Miller didn’t comfort me. He just stood coldly to the side, waiting until my emotions settled slightly before pulling me away from Richard’s corpse. Then, he walked over to the other gurney. “Mrs. Vance, I need you to identify this man as well.” My heart jumped into my throat. The white sheet was pulled back, revealing a face I completely didn’t recognize. It was a man in his thirties, thin but with sharp features. His face was also a frostbitten purple. What was bizarre was that the corners of his mouth were turned up into a smile—a look of relief, almost satisfaction. I scrambled through my memories, but I was absolutely certain I had never seen this face before. I shook my head, my voice trembling with genuine fear: “No… I don’t know him. I’ve never seen him before.” This time, the fear was real. A stranger dying with a smile on his face, right next to my husband who died in absolute terror. The scene was too bizarre, like the opening of a cheap horror movie. Detective Miller didn’t seem surprised by my reaction. He just nodded and signaled the medical examiner to cover the bodies back up. He led me out of the morgue and into an office. He poured me a cup of hot water. Then, from a locked cabinet, he pulled out a clear evidence bag and pushed it across the desk toward me. Inside the bag sat a black device I was far too familiar with. The dummy GPS tracker I had swapped out—the one that could never send a distress signal. My heart skipped a beat, the blood rushing straight to my head. My fingers tightened around the paper cup, but the scalding water couldn’t chase away the ice in my palms. Still, I maintained my facade, looking at him with innocent confusion. “Detective Miller, what is this?” “Richard’s personal effects.” Detective Miller stared unblinking into my eyes, every word hitting like a hammer. “A dummy GPS model. It can’t emit a single signal. Mrs. Vance, do you know what that means?” I played the role of the naive, innocent wife who knew nothing about outdoor gear. “I don’t know… He loved buying this kind of outdoor stuff. We have a lot of it at home. I really don’t understand it.” My voice sounded clueless and lost. Suddenly, Detective Miller let out a cold laugh. It was filled with undisguised mockery. From the cabinet, he pulled out a second, identical evidence bag, slamming it down heavily next to the first. “Is that so? What a coincidence. We found the exact same thing on the other victim.” Boom— I felt the entire world spinning and collapsing in front of me. Two identical dummy GPS models. Two identical “murder weapons.” My “trademark,” my supposedly perfect murder method, had been duplicated. In a split second, I went from a mastermind controlling the board to a trapped participant in a bizarre mystery I couldn’t explain. This was no longer a flawless murder. It was a chilling, inexplicable puzzle. My hands and feet went numb. My mind was completely blank. The psychological fortress I had so carefully built crumbled the moment I saw that second dummy GPS. The fluorescent lights in the interrogation room were blindingly white. They stretched my shadow long across the floor, making me look like a silent sinner. Detective Miller sat across from me. He didn’t slam his hands on the table. He didn’t yell. He just looked at me calmly with those sharp eyes. But every question he asked acted like a precision scalpel, peeling back my disguise layer by layer until he hit my deepest secrets. “Mrs. Vance, you used to enjoy mountain climbing too, didn’t you?” He asked it casually, like making small talk. Alarm bells rang furiously in my head. I had never mentioned this to anyone, especially not after marrying Richard. How did he know? I steadied myself and admitted it: “Yes, I was into it back in college. But… I stopped after we got married.” I tried to project the image of an ordinary woman bound by domestic life, someone who had abandoned her hobbies. Detective Miller nodded, seemingly accepting my answer. “So, you must know a fair bit about GPS and outdoor equipment, right?” There it is. His real target. My defense sounded weak: “Just the basics. I haven’t touched the stuff in years. The gear updates so fast, I wouldn’t know how to use the new models.” I knew my background was already my first red flag. No matter how much I denied it, in the eyes of the police, I possessed the technical knowledge required to commit the crime. Detective Miller didn’t linger on the topic. He smoothly transitioned and dropped his second bombshell. “We discovered that last month, you added a five-million-dollar accidental death policy to Richard’s life insurance. You are the sole beneficiary.” My heart sank to rock bottom. That insurance policy was a crucial part of my plan. It was my safety net and the capital for my new life. But now, it was a blade pressing against my throat. “It… it was Richard’s idea.” I forced myself to stay calm, searching for the most reasonable excuse. “He loves extreme sports. He said it was just adding an extra layer of security for our family.” I pushed the blame onto the dead man. Dead men can’t argue. Detective Miller smiled. It was a knowing, profound smile. “Really? But we spoke to the insurance agent. He said you reached out to him, and you handled the entire process. He also mentioned that Mr. Vance didn’t seem to know the specific details of the policy.” I went freezing cold. It felt like all my blood had been drained. I never imagined that bastard Richard would complain about the insurance to an outsider. Or maybe this was just a bluff. Detective Miller was testing me. But I couldn’t risk it. To Detective Miller, my silence was an admission of guilt. The fatal blow was yet to come. A young officer walked in and handed a file to Detective Miller. He glanced at it, then tossed it heavily onto the table in front of me. “Mrs. Vance, our cyber division recovered the last three months of browsing history from your home computer.” My eyes fell on the document. Printed on the pages were the keywords I feared the most. “Remote hiking trails” “How long does it take to die from hypothermia” “How to block GPS signals” “How are hiking accidents classified” … Every keyword was a glowing red chain, binding me tightly to the suspect’s chair. My supposed brilliance, the tracks I so carefully erased in the dead of night… in the face of professional forensic technology, it was all a joke. They had become the noose around my neck, and the knot was tightening. Detective Miller leaned forward, resting his crossed hands on the table. His gaze was as sharp as a razor. “A massive insurance payout, specialized knowledge, a clear motive, and now two inexplicable dummy GPS trackers. Mrs. Vance, is there anything else you’d like to share?” My mind was a complete blank. All my defenses and lies were laughable and futile against this mountain of ironclad evidence. I was finished. My plan, my freedom, the new life I dreamed of—all of it was bursting like a soap bubble. Despair washed over me like a tidal wave. I could feel the freezing water rising above my head, stealing my last breath. The interrogation hit a dead end. I was like a butterfly trapped in a spider’s web; no matter how I struggled, I couldn’t break free from the layers of damning evidence. I gave up defending myself. I chose silence. Because I knew the more I spoke, the more mistakes I’d make. Just as I was hovering on the edge of despair, ready to accept this absurd fate, someone knocked on the interrogation room door. The young officer hurried in, whispered something in Detective Miller’s ear, and handed him a folder. Detective Miller took the file and scanned it quickly. His furrowed brow slowly smoothed out, his expression turning incredibly complex. He looked up at me. His eyes held scrutiny, confusion, and something else… something hard to detect. He remained silent for a long time. So long I thought time had stopped. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and clear. “We’ve identified the second victim.” My heart jumped, and my body involuntarily sat up straighter.

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The morning after my high school reunion, I woke up, eyes still glued shut, and immediately brushed my hand against a long, incredibly hairy leg. Driven by sheer, sleepy curiosity, I couldn’t resist running my hand up and down it a few times… The very next second—BANG! The hotel room door burst open, and a crowd of people flooded inside. Terrified, I snatched my hand back, snapped my eyes open, and clutched the duvet tightly to my chest. “Dr. Carter, the Chief of Surgery needs you in…” The group of men who had just barged in suddenly stopped dead in their tracks, letting out a collective gasp of shock. Me: ??? What Dr. Carter? I followed their wide-eyed stares and glanced to my side. There was a man lying right next to me. Two long, straight legs, covered in enough masculine leg hair to scream raw testosterone. And further up… My eyes practically burned out of their sockets. “We… we didn’t mean to…” The group of guys frantically covered their eyes, stammering apologies. I didn’t recognize a single person in that group, and I definitely didn’t recognize the man currently occupying my bed. Just as I was sitting there, completely paralyzed with panic— The man next to me reached out, gave the duvet a slight tug, cracked one eye open to look at me, and rasped, “Mind sharing a little?” It took my brain a full second to process that sentence before I let go of the blanket like it was on fire. The duvet slipped down, barely covering his essential anatomy. He closed his eye again and drawled lazily at the crowd by the door, “Are you guys leaving or what?” Whoa… I was so spooked by his casual attitude that I started to scramble out of bed. He let out a heavy sigh, sounding incredibly exhausted. “Not you.” Upon hearing that, the group of men finally stopped gawking. One of them threw out a hasty, “The Chief is waiting to start the M&M conference, hurry up and get downstairs!” Then, they all practically tripped over each other running out of the room. The world suddenly went dead quiet. I sat there, clutching a corner of the duvet, shivering uncontrollably. The Playful Doctor vs. The Good Girl “What are you so scared of?” My trembling seemed to have finally killed his desire to sleep. He sighed, opened his eyes to look at me, but clearly couldn’t keep them open and let them fall shut again. “I… I think… I’m a little sore,” I blabbered, my brain completely short-circuiting from the shock. The second the words left my mouth, I wanted to slap myself. This time, his eyes snapped open and stayed open. He stared at me for a few long seconds, reached up to massage his temples, and then slung a long arm around my waist, pulling me haphazardly against him. “The first time is always like that. It’ll fade in a bit.” I think he was trying to comfort me. But I felt absolutely zero comfort. Instead, a cold sweat broke out all over my body. Then, I looked down and saw a small patch of blood on the pristine white hotel sheets… My scalp went numb. He noticed the bloodstain too. He froze for a moment, then reached out, ruffled my hair, and let out a dry, self-deprecating laugh. “Sorry. I guess I lost control.” Lost control?! Another wave of cold sweat washed over me. “Who are you?” I asked, my voice cracking with pure misery. My question actually made him laugh, a sound born of sheer disbelief. “You don’t even know who I am, and you still broke in here and slept with me?” “I… I can’t remember anything…” I had never been in a situation like this in my entire life. I was covered in goosebumps. “I’m not going to get pregnant from this, am I?” Okay, I really had to hand it to myself. In the midst of all this existential panic and utter confusion, I still managed to prioritize the most critical question. Classic me. “…” He cracked an eye open to look at me again. He looked incredibly, profoundly exhausted. He looked so weak that I felt like if I poked him too hard, he might actually stop breathing. Just how wild was I last night to exhaust a grown man to this point? I was dying of shame. “No,” he stated simply, getting straight to the point. I had zero experience, and I couldn’t even remember the mechanics of what happened last night, so I didn’t dare press for details. If he said I wouldn’t get pregnant, I chose to believe him. After all, those guys called him a doctor. Maybe he used protection? That was the only thing I could tell myself. “So, um, bye?” Desperate to avoid the agonizing awkwardness of both of us being fully awake and sober, I chose the coward’s way out. Flight. “…” He glanced at me, then suddenly chuckled. “Sure.” I truly believed I would never see him again. Yet, two weeks later, clutching a positive pregnancy test, I found myself sitting outside his office at the hospital, shivering like a leaf. “Hey, future Mrs. Carter!” A young male doctor bounded up to me. I jumped out of my skin, almost having a heart attack right there in the waiting room. “Are you waiting for Dr. Carter?” He was grinning at me with the aggressive enthusiasm of a close friend. But in reality, the only time I had ever seen him was during that chaotic, mortifying morning in the hotel room. The morning I wanted to scrub from my brain forever. Two weeks ago, I attended my high school reunion, drank way too much, and stumbled into the wrong hotel room. I only found out later that Dr. Carter and a team of surgeons were at that hotel for a medical conference. In a twist of terrible fate, his room was right next to mine. He had come down with a severe fever, and the colleague who was checking on him had forgotten to pull the door shut when he left… and I just wandered right in. And then his colleagues came to wake him up for their morning meeting… Leading to the apocalyptic scene I woke up to. “Uh, yeah,” I mumbled, my face burning so hot it felt like it was going to melt off. “Come wait inside.” Without waiting for an answer, he practically dragged me into the doctors’ private lounge. As we walked past Dr. Carter’s desk, he glanced up at me. His expression was completely blank. It was like he had never seen me before in his life. To be fair, I was having a hard time recognizing him too. I had never seen him out of bed, fully dressed in his crisp, professional white coat. I waited in agonizing suspense for two hours. Staring at the nameplate on his desk, I finally learned his full name: Dr. Liam Carter, Cardiothoracic Surgeon. I discreetly googled him on my phone. And discovered he was already… 29 years old? I mentally calculated the massive generational gap between us. Finally, Liam walked into the office to change out of his scrubs. He shot me a suspicious look. “Are you waiting for Dr. Weeks?” Me: ??? “Dr. Carter, I’m waiting for you.” I stood up, gripping my purse so tightly my knuckles were white. My voice was as quiet as a mouse. “And you are?” Me: ??? Did he seriously have amnesia the second he got out of bed? “Two weeks ago. At the Marriott. We…” I forced myself to explain, my voice losing confidence with every syllable. Finally, I gave up, pulled the pregnancy test out of my purse, and carefully held it out to him. “I think… I’m pregnant.” “Liam, it’s time for lunch.” Right at that exact second, a female doctor barged into the office. I panicked, trying to hide the pregnancy test, but fumbled it. It clattered directly into the trash can next to his desk. I stared at the trash can, terrified he hadn’t seen it clearly, agonizing over whether I should dig it out. “…” Liam didn’t say a word. He just stared at me, a highly amused, calculated look in his eyes. “Is this your patient?” The female doctor clearly had no intention of leaving. She turned her scrutinizing gaze onto me. I opened my mouth, but no words came out. The awkwardness was suffocating. “I have something to take care of. You guys go ahead.” He didn’t introduce me. I felt like I had been caught stealing. The female doctor looked incredibly displeased about leaving. Before she walked out, she intentionally tugged on Liam’s sleeve—a blatant territorial claim. He has a girlfriend. The realization hit me like a bolt of lightning. Yet Liam acted like absolutely nothing had happened. He sat back down in his rolling chair, pulled a patient chart toward him, and started writing. Then, in a half-joking tone, he asked, “Feeling better?” Whoa. My heart did a violent flip at his words. “I’m fine,” I replied automatically. He shot me a fleeting, breezy glance and smiled again. “Want me to take responsibility?” I was honestly in awe of him. How could he calmly write medical charts at a time like this? He was acting like I was just here for a routine checkup. “I just don’t know what to do.” I had never expected him to take responsibility. I was just completely lost and overwhelmed by the result, hoping he might have some medical or practical advice. I tested the waters. “I should probably schedule an abortion, right?” I was trying to play it cool, but my palms were dripping with sweat. He kept writing in the chart, acting like I was discussing the weather and not our potential unborn child. What a jerk. His absolute calm was driving me insane. “Up to you.” He suddenly looked up, his gaze locking directly onto mine. His face was entirely devoid of emotion. “If you’ve decided you don’t want it, then don’t have it.” “Okay.” Could I even have it? Given the absolute trainwreck of a situation… “Scared?” There was a distinct teasing lilt in his voice. “Yeah.” I didn’t know what else to say. “So now you know how to be scared…” He shot me a highly unreadable look, flipped to a fresh page in the chart, and smirked. “That’s definitely not the girl I met that night.” Me: ??? Thinking back to how half-dead he looked that morning, I desperately wanted to know what the hell I had actually done to him. But his comment made it sound like this entire disaster was 100% my fault, and that pissed me off. “It wasn’t entirely my fault either,” I mumbled, my voice so quiet I could barely hear myself. He suddenly stopped writing. He raised a single, perfectly sculpted eyebrow at me, and a sudden, disarming smile broke across his usually stern face. “I was running a 103-degree fever that night. Did you really expect me to have the strength to fight you off?” Well… I was completely boxed in. If you didn’t have the strength to fight me off, where did you find the strength to absolutely wreck me? I thought bitterly. A player is a player. He could casually bring up the most mortifying, unmentionable details without batting an eye. He was clearly a seasoned pro at handling ‘situations’ like this. I was completely out of my league. “If you’ve made up your mind…” He fell silent for a moment, finishing his notes. Once he signed the bottom of the page, he let out a sigh and looked up. “Let’s do it next week.” “Next week?” “Next week is the only time I have an opening in my schedule,” he explained. “Okay.” Adults have to pay the price for their actions. I didn’t argue, I was just incredibly anxious. A week later, I was back in his office. My resolve to go through with the surgery was crumbling. It started because my mom had invited me over for family dinner this week. Sitting at the table with my stepdad, my younger half-brother, and my mom, the atmosphere was so warm and loud. When I got back to my tiny, silent apartment, I looked around the empty walls. The contrast of the warm family dinner flashed in my mind, and I let out a heavy sigh. I felt a wave of profound, crushing loneliness. My parents divorced when I was very young. After the split, I stayed with my mom. From middle school onward, I had been living in dorms. Because when I was in middle school, my mom met my stepdad and they built a new life together. She was so happy. I knew I should be happy for her. But coming back to this empty apartment, I just felt physically and emotionally drained. I suddenly really, really wanted to keep this baby. I was just so incredibly lonely. I knew Liam would never agree to it. No sane man in his position would. And he probably had a girlfriend. So, even as I sat in his office again, I was still agonizing over whether to keep it. “Future Mrs. Carter! Back to see our Dr. Carter again?” It was Dr. Weeks, the guy from last time. “Yeah.” I sat there, feeling stiff and awkward. “Please don’t call me that!” I whispered frantically. “Don’t be shy,” Dr. Weeks instantly slid into the chair next to me, looking around conspiratorially before dropping his voice. “We’ve all been taking bets for months on who would finally manage to tame the Ice King… We never saw you coming. We have mad respect for you, seriously.” “Huh?” I was totally lost. “You guys have the wrong idea… He and I aren’t…” Finally, I just threw my hands up and blurted out, “Doesn’t he have a girlfriend? Please stop saying things like that.” “Who?” Dr. Weeks suddenly looked deadly serious. “How do I not know about this?” “…” Now I was even more confused. Liam didn’t have a girlfriend? Did I misread the situation with that female doctor? “Are you saying Dr. Carter is seeing another woman behind your back?!” “?” I had no idea how to explain that I was the “other woman.” “Do you have a lot of free time on your hands, Dr. Weeks?” A voice suddenly floated down from above us, and a tall shadow fell over the desk. Liam! I jumped to my feet so fast I almost knocked the chair over. I felt exactly like a middle schooler caught gossiping in the back of the class. “I…” I tried to formulate a sentence. Dr. Weeks was equally terrified. He grabbed a random stack of charts and practically sprinted out of the room, pretending to be incredibly busy. “I wasn’t talking to you.” Once Dr. Weeks was gone, Liam’s tone softened significantly. He reached out, gently ruffled my hair, and gestured for me to sit back down. He then took his seat behind his desk. I felt my face heat up. Why did he always insist on petting my head? Didn’t he know it felt way too intimate and totally embarrassing? “Why do you always look so terrified of me?” he asked, studying me intently. “Do I look like a monster?” I sat down nervously. “No, it’s just… you’re a lot older than me… you feel like a…” “Like a what?” He looked highly amused. “An authority figure. An elder.” I answered honestly. “An elder?” He let out a sharp bark of laughter. “How old are you?” “I’ll be 22 next month.” His laughter made me feel incredibly insecure. When a guy who is usually dead serious starts laughing, it is absolutely lethal. Especially since he possessed an objectively devastating face. “Yeah, you are pretty young.” He stopped laughing, his expression turning thoughtful. “Wait here for a second.” He suddenly stood up and walked into the adjoining locker room to change. Those few minutes of waiting were pure agony. I was agonizing over how to say what I needed to say. Because of what Dr. Weeks had just said—that Liam didn’t have a girlfriend—my resolve had wavered even more. I was almost 22, and I had never had a real boyfriend. And Liam… well, whether it was his looks, his demeanor, or his career… he pretty much checked every single box I had ever imagined for a partner. Except for the fact that he was a massive player, obviously. I started thinking, maybe… maybe I could try dating him? Finally, I gathered every ounce of courage I had, stood up, walked to the locker room door, and knocked lightly. “Dr. Carter, I have a question.” My fists were clenched tight. I honestly didn’t have the guts to look him in the eye when I said this, so talking through the closed door was much easier. He didn’t answer. I hesitated, but pushed forward anyway. “Do you have a girlfriend? Because if you don’t… could we maybe… give this a try? I really want to keep the baby.” Saying that sentence felt like it drained my entire life force. I stood outside the door, bracing myself for the verdict. Then, the door swung open. But instead of hearing his verdict, I was blasted by a voice coming from his phone on speaker…

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My younger brother, Tyler, wanted to buy a new car and asked me to help him look. I specifically took half a day off work to drive him around to three different dealerships in the city. That evening, I posted a quick status on Facebook: “Car shopping with my little brother. That Audi A3 we looked at seemed like a solid choice.” Less than ten minutes later, Tyler’s girlfriend, Chloe, called me. “Emily, buying a car is between me and Tyler. What are people supposed to think when you post stuff like that? That I can’t afford it myself?” Her voice was cold enough to freeze water. Before I even had a chance to explain, I saw that she had just updated her own Facebook status: “Some people just love to perform. So old and still desperate for attention from her little brother. Maybe check your own bank account before you start bossing us around on what car to buy?” She attached a photo of me and Tyler looking at cars at the Audi dealership. Even though she blurred my face, our relatives would instantly recognize it was me. A text from Tyler popped up right after: “Em, can you just delete that post? Chloe is really sensitive about this stuff.” I let out a dry laugh and deleted my post. And while I was at it, I also “deleted” the $40,000 I had set aside to help them pay for the car. The next day, Tyler panicked and called to ask what happened. I only replied with six words: “If she’s sensitive, don’t take it.” 1 My phone rang. It was Tyler. I could hear the suppressed anger in his voice: “Em, what is your problem? If Chloe made you mad, take it out on me! Why the hell are you holding back the money for the car?” I replied, my voice completely flat: “The money is in my bank account. I’m choosing not to give it to you.” Less than ten minutes later, someone started pounding on my front door like they were trying to break it down. The second I unlocked the deadbolt, Tyler shoved his way inside. His muddy sneakers left two dark streaks on the living room rug I had just vacuumed. Chloe trailed closely behind him, her arms crossed over her chest, her chin tipped up in a textbook display of arrogance. “Emily, are you done throwing your little tantrum?” Tyler yelled, his voice so loud spit was literally flying from his mouth. I stared at the muddy footprints on my rug and fired back, “What exactly am I throwing a tantrum about?” “You’re holding the forty grand hostage! How the hell are we supposed to go pick up the car today?” He lunged forward and grabbed the sleeve of my shirt. I violently yanked my arm out of his grip. Chloe stepped forward, looking at me out of the corner of her eye. “Emily, are you trying to use money to manipulate me? Let me tell you right now, I don’t play those games. If you didn’t want to give us the money, you shouldn’t have pretended to be so generous in the first place.” I picked up the glass of water from the coffee table, took a slow sip, and said calmly, “I wasn’t pretending. I just simply don’t want to give it to you anymore.” The moment the words left my mouth, Chloe aggressively slapped the glass out of my hand. It smashed against the hardwood floor. The glass shattered. Scalding hot water splashed directly onto my calves, the skin instantly turning a furious, stinging red. “You think having a little bit of money makes you special?! I can buy a car with Tyler just fine without your forty grand!” she screamed, pointing her finger inches from my nose. I looked down at the burning red patches on my legs. Whatever warmth was left in my heart for them instantly burned away, leaving a gaping, cold hole. “Get out.” “Em, Chloe is just stressed…” Tyler quickly stepped in front of her, trying to play peacekeeper. “Let’s just forget this happened. Just wire the forty grand to my account right now.” I walked over to the entryway and pulled the front door wide open. “Get the hell out of my house.” Chloe didn’t move an inch. She let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Emily, Tyler already told me. Half of your assets legally belong to him anyway. He has a right to this condo. Who the hell do you think you are to hoard it all for yourself?” I stared dead into her eyes. “The deed is in my name only. I paid the mortgage. I paid for the renovations. Every single cent came from my pocket. Where do you get the absolute audacity to claim any of this?” Tyler took a step toward me, his face hardening. “Em, Chloe is right. Mom’s life insurance and inheritance were supposed to be split. You need to sell this place and give me my half, so I can buy my own house.” I looked at this boy—the brother I had fiercely protected since we were kids—and the last shred of familial love I had for him completely evaporated. “When Mom got sick, the hospital bills drained every single penny of her savings. I bought this condo years later, entirely with my own money and loans I took out myself. It has absolutely zero connection to you.” Chloe flipped her hair over her shoulder, her tone dripping with venomous sarcasm. “Emily, as a woman, I honestly feel sorry for you. You’re pushing thirty, you’re single, and your entire pathetic life revolves around obsessing over your little brother. You have zero self-worth. You’re holding the car money hostage right now because you want to keep controlling Tyler so you can keep leeching off his life, right?” I glared at her with absolute, freezing contempt. “I’m not leeching off him. And I’m certainly not giving him a dime. Both of you, leave.” Tyler’s face flushed a dark, angry red. His fists clenched tightly at his sides. “Fine. Em, you’re going to regret this!” He grabbed Chloe by the wrist and stormed out the door. Chloe stopped right at the threshold, turning back to shoot me one last look: “Emily, if you don’t cough up that car money, Tyler is done with you. He won’t even acknowledge you as his sister. When you finally manage to trick some guy into marrying you, don’t expect us to be there to support you.” I slammed the door shut and locked the deadbolt. A second later, a heavy kick rattled the door frame. “You shameless, selfish bitch! Just you wait!” Tyler’s muffled scream echoed through the heavy wood. I walked to the kitchen to grab a broom to sweep up the shattered glass. My phone buzzed. I glanced at the screen. In our extended family’s WhatsApp group, Tyler had posted a massive paragraph: “I need the elders in this family to weigh in. My sister is intentionally withholding the money she promised for my car just to control my life. Chloe just posted the truth on Facebook, and now Emily is trying to force us to break up. She’s also hoarding the condo Mom left behind and trying to kick me out on the street.” Immediately below his rant, Chloe posted a screenshot. It was a screenshot of the photo I had originally posted of us looking at cars at the dealership. Aunt Susan was the first to reply: “Emily, this is completely out of line. Your brother buying a car is a major milestone. Why are you interfering and causing drama?” Uncle Robert chimed in right after: “Em, Tyler is your only brother. Just give the kid the money. Don’t tear the family apart over something this petty.” I stared at the screen, reading line after line of their “helpful” advice, and without a second thought, I permanently exited the group chat. 2 The next morning, I left for work as usual. The moment I stepped out of my apartment building’s main gate, Tyler jumped out from behind a concrete pillar, blocking the sidewalk. “Em, what was that stunt leaving the group chat? Are you scared?” When I didn’t answer, he doubled down. “If you’re scared, then wire me the money right now.” He kept aggressively demanding the transfer while pulling out a brand-new iPhone 15 Pro to check his banking app. That iPhone was bought and paid for entirely by me. He told me he just wanted to “borrow it for a couple of days to play with the camera,” but he never gave it back. I sidestepped him and kept walking. “Move. I have to go to work.” He reached out and violently grabbed the strap of my purse. “You are not leaving until you wire me that money.” A few neighbors walking their dogs stopped and started staring at us. I yanked my purse back with all my strength. “Tyler, if you keep this up, I’m calling the cops.” He let out a loud, mocking scoff. “Call them! Are the cops going to get involved in a family dispute? You’re stealing my money, and now you want to silence me?” Chloe, wearing a brand-new cashmere coat and holding a Venti Starbucks cup, looked me up and down with obvious disgust. “Emily, everyone is watching. Do you really want to make a scene and embarrass yourself? Just wire the money, and we’ll leave.” I stared at the coffee cup in her hand. “That coffee cost seven bucks. The coat you’re wearing cost eight hundred. Both of those were bought using my secondary credit card, weren’t they?” Chloe’s smug expression instantly cracked. “What the hell are you talking about?! Tyler bought these for me!” I pulled out my phone and opened my banking app. “I canceled the secondary card this morning. Oh, and the iPhone you’re holding is mine too. Make sure you give it back.” Tyler’s eyes bulged in shock. “Em! Are you psycho?! You’re taking back a phone?!” I held out my hand, palm up. “Yes. Give it back.” Tyler took a rapid step backward. “No way in hell! I’m using it, which means it’s mine!” He grabbed Chloe’s hand, frantically hailed a passing taxi, and the two of them dove into the backseat and sped off before I could say another word. I watched the taxi disappear into traffic, then turned and walked toward the bus stop. The bus rattled its way downtown, eventually dropping me off outside my office building. I swiped my badge, walked through the glass doors, and sat down at my desk. Before I could even log in, my department manager walked over. “Emily, can you come to my office for a minute?” I followed him inside. He closed the door, his expression looking incredibly strained and awkward. “Is… is everything okay at home? Any major issues?” “No.” The manager sighed heavily, opened his desk drawer, pulled out a piece of paper, and handed it to me. “This morning, reception received a local courier package. It was a stack of these flyers.” I took it. Printed dead center was a photo of me, surrounded by bold, aggressive block letters: [EMILY CHEN: TOXIC, CONTROLLING SISTER. STEALS BROTHER’S INHERITANCE, TRIES TO FORCE BROTHER’S GIRLFRIEND TO GET AN ABORTION. MORALLY BANKRUPT. DO NOT TRUST HER!] It was printed on cheap, flimsy printer paper, the edges ragged. I stared at the words, my fingers slowly clenching into tight fists. “Reception intercepted the package,” the manager said, watching me closely. “But… someone took a photo and posted it in the general company Slack channel. Now… the entire office has seen it.” I pulled out my phone and opened the company Slack. The general channel was dead silent. Nobody was typing a word. But the photo of that flyer was sitting right there as the most recent message, glaringly obvious and humiliating. I placed the flyer back onto his desk. “I understand. I’ll handle it.” I turned and walked out of the office. In the hallway, several coworkers were walking toward me. The moment they saw me, their eyes darted away. They lowered their heads and hurried past without a word. I walked back to my desk, grabbed my purse, and turned to my cubicle mate. “I’m taking a half-day. If anything urgent comes up, text me.” As soon as I walked out of the revolving doors of my office building, I saw them. Standing on the sidewalk across the street, Tyler was holding a thick stack of flyers, and Chloe was aggressively shoving them into the hands of passing pedestrians. I marched across the street and stopped right in front of them. Chloe held out a flyer toward me. When she realized it was me, she froze for a second, then quickly pulled her hand back. “Well, well. Emily, leaving work early today?” I kept my eyes locked on Tyler. “You printed these?” Tyler looked away, refusing to meet my gaze. “Chloe said this was the only way to make you back down. Em, just give me the money, and we’ll leave right now.” I reached out and snatched the stack of flyers out of his hands. With one swift motion, I ripped the entire stack in half, letting the shredded paper flutter to the sidewalk. “Tyler, you are twenty-four years old. You graduated two years ago, and you’ve already quit or been fired from six different jobs. You don’t even make enough to pay your own rent.” I stared directly into his eyes. “The money you were going to use for that car? I saved it. The hoodie you’re wearing right now? I bought it. Even the money you use to buy her coffee every morning comes off my credit card.” Chloe lunged forward and violently shoved me in the chest. I stumbled back half a step, catching my balance. “Stop acting like a pathetic victim! Tyler told me you make over ten grand a month! Why shouldn’t you spend it on him?! You’re just a selfish, greedy bitch!” I looked at Chloe, my voice ice cold. “My money belongs to me. I will give it to whoever I want. And since I don’t want to give it to you, you won’t see a single red cent of it.” Tyler’s face flushed a furious, dark red. “Em! Are you seriously trying to ruin my life?! Chloe said if I don’t get a car, she’s breaking up with me! Do you really want to destroy a four-year relationship?!” I stared at him, completely deadpan. “That sounds like a ‘you’ problem.” I turned and walked toward a nearby trash can, tossing the shredded flyers inside. Tyler charged at me, grabbing my arm in a vice grip. “You are going to give me that money today! Or I swear to God, I will stand outside your office every single day handing these out!” I violently ripped my arm away from him. “Touch me again, I dare you.” In the same fluid motion, I snatched the iPhone 15 Pro right out of his hand. Tyler stood there, totally stunned. Chloe immediately rushed forward to grab his arm. “Tyler, stop wasting your breath! People like her won’t learn until you destroy them completely!” I pulled out my own phone and dialed a local electronics recycling service I had used before. “Hi, I have an iPhone 15 Pro I want to sell. Latest model, mint condition. Can you send someone to pick it up right now?” The voice on the other end was enthusiastic: “Absolutely! Text me the address, we’ll be there in ten minutes.” Tyler lunged forward, trying to wrestle the phone out of my grip. “Emily! Are you fucking insane?!” I ended the call and shoved both phones deep into my purse, stepping back out of his reach. Ten minutes later, a white commercial van pulled up to the curb. A guy in a blue polo shirt hopped out. “Ms. Chen? You have the phone?” I pulled the iPhone 15 Pro out of my purse and handed it to him. Tyler charged the guy, grabbing him aggressively by the shoulder. “Don’t you dare buy that! That is my phone!” I pulled up the digital receipt on my own phone and held it out to the tech. “Hi, here is the proof of purchase and the serial number. The physical receipt is at my apartment; I can go get it if you need it.” The tech carefully checked the screen against the phone’s settings, nodded, and forcefully shoved Tyler’s hand off his shoulder. “Buddy, the phone legally belongs to this lady. We only care about who holds the receipt.” Tyler stood frozen on the sidewalk, his face turning a mottled, furious purple. “Emily! You’re actually selling your own brother’s phone?! Are you even human?!” “I bought this phone with my own money. I can sell my own property whenever I want. What does that have to do with you?” The tech pulled a thick wad of cash from his bag, counted out eight hundred dollars, and handed it to me. “Here you go, ma’am. Count it to be sure.” I took the cash, counted it right in front of their faces, and slipped it into my purse. “It’s all here. Thanks.” The white van drove off. Tyler glared at me with absolute, unfiltered hatred and roared: “Emily! As of today, you are dead to me! I don’t have a sister!” I didn’t even bother turning around. “Good.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “400803”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The first major case I took over after transferring back to the precinct in the city was a prostitution bust. And the suspect was my husband. The case file was spread open on the desk. The stark black ink on the white paper made my eyes sting. Seeing me zone out, my subordinate gently reminded me, “Captain Hayes, you just transferred back, so you might not be fully up to speed. The suspect is the wealthiest man in the city, Arthur Sterling. And the girl with him is his young girlfriend.” “Those two are practically internet celebrities around here. It’s the classic ‘billionaire CEO and his sweet little princess’ trope. There’s a massive age gap, but their followers eat that drama up.” He lowered his voice, a knowing, slightly amused smirk playing on his lips. “Word on the street is the girl got upset because Mr. Sterling hasn’t been spending enough time with her. She threw a tantrum and called the cops on him just to prove a point. It’s basically just a rich couple’s foreplay. They’re just messing around.” I didn’t say a word. I stood up and walked toward the mediation room. The door was slightly ajar. With one glance, I saw Arthur Sterling bent over, half-kneeling beside the sofa. He was using the sleeve of his multi-thousand-dollar bespoke suit to gently, meticulously wipe a splash of milk tea off her designer sneaker. He handled it like he was polishing a priceless artifact. The girl kicked her legs playfully, her voice a mix of a whine and a pout. “Arthur, are you an idiot? I literally called the cops to arrest you, and you’re still treating me like this?” Arthur looked up at her, his eyes overflowing with a profound, tender adoration. A look I had never, ever seen directed at me. “My little star. As long as you’re happy, you can have my life.” The fluorescent lights overhead flickered. My heart plummeted into a bottomless abyss. If you two love using 911 as foreplay, then as your legal wife, I’ll personally escort you to a holding cell. I tightened my grip on the official summons in my hand, turned back to Officer Miller, and said, “Take them to the interrogation room. Process them completely by the book. No skipped steps.” Officer Miller hesitated, a look of deep discomfort crossing his face. “Captain Hayes, this… are you sure we need to go that far? You just got back, so you might not know, but Mr. Sterling is a major player in this city. Even the Chief of Police treats him with kid gloves…” “I don’t give a damn how big his name is,” I cut him off, my tone turning to steel. “Filing a false police report is a crime. Wasting police resources is a crime. This is a law enforcement agency, not his private playground. He gets no special privileges here.” Rendered speechless by my absolute resolve, Officer Miller simply lowered his head, mumbled a “Yes, Ma’am,” and pushed open the door to the mediation room. Immediately, there was a commotion inside. Chloe’s voice was shrill and dripping with impatience. “On what grounds are you detaining us?! I didn’t actually mean to report him, it was just a joke!” Closely followed by Arthur’s voice. It wasn’t rushed or angry; in fact, it was incredibly indulgent. “Stop making a fuss, babe. Just listen to the officers and cooperate. It’ll be fine.” Footsteps approached, and the two of them walked out. Chloe stormed ahead, her face completely sour, dragging her feet like a petulant child. “This is all your fault! I wanted you to take me to the mall yesterday, but you absolutely had to go to some stupid board meeting! That’s why I jokingly said I was going to call the cops on you!” Arthur trailed closely behind her, practically jogging to keep up, his tone entirely placating. “Next time, I’ll clear my entire schedule just to take you shopping. Whatever clothes you want, I’ll buy the entire boutique and have it moved to our house.” Chloe turned and glared at him. It was then that I finally got a clear look at her face. Small face, bright eyes, cherry-red lips. She was undeniably, strikingly beautiful. The most eye-catching thing about her was her platinum blonde hair. Her skirt was so short that if she walked any faster, you’d see her underwear. She looked to be in her early twenties, radiating a flashy, attention-seeking energy. She looked like someone who lived for the spotlight. We were completely, fundamentally different. I was someone who wore a uniform every day and buried myself in police files. We didn’t exist in the same universe. A heavy, suffocating weight suddenly pressed down on my chest, making it hard to breathe. Who was Arthur Sterling? He was the apex predator of the city’s elite circles. Countless people lined up just for a chance to kiss his ass. But right now, here he was, bowing his head, bending his knees, coaxing her like a teenage boy who had just made his high school girlfriend mad. “Don’t be angry anymore. I’ll cancel all my meetings. I’ll go shopping with you, I’ll take you to dinner, whatever you want. Okay?” Chloe let out a cold hmph and didn’t answer, but her pace noticeably slowed down. I watched them walk into the interrogation room. With a sharp click, the heavy door shut, locking their nauseatingly sweet conversation inside. Officer Miller walked over and asked, “Captain, who’s conducting the interview?” “You do it personally,” I said, my voice slightly raspy. “Ask every single detail. Especially the exact reason for the 911 call. Don’t leave a single word out.” Miller nodded and went inside. A few minutes later, Chloe’s voice drifted out from behind the door. You could hear the smugness dripping from every word. “Officer, I swear I was just playing around. He’s always so obsessed with his company. Getting him to take me dress shopping is harder than pulling teeth.” “What’s the point of giving me an unlimited black Amex? No matter how much money is on it, the card can’t stand next to me in the mirror and tell me which color looks better, right?” Officer Miller likely followed protocol and asked about the prostitution allegation, because the room went quiet for a few seconds. Then, Chloe’s voice returned, laced with a giggling smirk. “Oh, I only said that to piss him off. A few days ago, he used his tie to bind my wrists, saying he wanted to try something new… I was just mad that he only cared about his own pleasure, so I intentionally threatened to tell the cops he was paying for it.” She paused, clearly showing something off to the officer. “If you don’t believe me, look at my wrists. You can still see the red marks. He looks like such a refined gentleman on the outside, but behind closed doors… hehe…” The details were getting progressively more sickening. I couldn’t listen anymore. I turned around and leaned against the wall. My mind was an absolute mess. Arthur and I had been married for three years. His family was old money in this city. My family had deep, sprawling political roots in the state capital. When we got married, the elite circles hailed it as the textbook definition of a perfect, equal-status power couple. A match made in heaven. And we certainly played the part flawlessly. We attended all the required holiday galas together. He bought me expensive, thoughtful gifts. I handled the aggressive, politically complex social networking for him. But I was the only one who knew how freezing cold this marriage actually was. He was always calm, detached. He rarely spoke, and he almost never smiled. Even during our most intimate moments, he acted like he was executing a corporate merger. Last year, I made the agonizing decision to transfer back to this city, giving up a highly coveted position at the state headquarters to become a Captain at this local precinct. On paper, it was a promotion. In reality, everyone knew it was a career detour. But I came back anyway. I stupidly believed that if I was closer to him, maybe, just maybe, I could thaw his frozen heart. Thinking about it now, it’s absolutely hilarious. I sacrificed my career trajectory to come back, and this was my welcome gift. Watching my husband look at another girl with a burning, passionate tenderness that he had never, ever shown me. In the end, the arrest warrant wasn’t issued. The Chief of Police rushed down to the precinct personally, rubbing his hands together, playing the ultimate peacemaker. “Captain Hayes, regarding Mr. Sterling… his corporation is critical to the city’s economic infrastructure. Let’s just let this go, alright? No need to blow it out of proportion.” I didn’t say a word, which the Chief took as silent agreement. Given the Sterling family’s massive influence, a false police report was never going to leave a scratch on Arthur. I watched Arthur carefully, protectively guide Chloe into his car. I pulled out my phone and sent a text to my mother-in-law. [I just saw Arthur at the precinct. He was brought in on suspicion of soliciting a prostitute.] Arthur’s mother replied almost instantly: [Evelyn? You’re back in the city? I’m sending my driver to pick you up right now. Don’t worry, I absolutely will not let you suffer this indignity.] Half an hour later, I stepped into the Sterling family estate. I could immediately hear Arthur’s father roaring in fury, tearing into Arthur so aggressively that the man couldn’t even lift his head. It wasn’t that his parents were unaware of Chloe’s existence. They usually just couldn’t be bothered to intervene in his personal life. But this time, the drama had spilled over into a police precinct, officially involving law enforcement. The nature of the scandal had completely changed. The Sterling family’s dominant position in the city relied heavily on the political backing of my family in the state capital. Not to mention, to secure our marriage, Arthur’s mother had practically lived in the capital for years, treating me better than her own biological daughter. The moment I walked through the door, Arthur’s mother instantly plastered on a warm, loving smile, grabbing my hands tightly. “Evelyn, my dear, you’ve been so wronged. I am going to teach this useless boy a lesson today, I promise you.” Arthur instantly realized what was happening—I was the one who ratted him out. He glared at me, his eyes burning with absolute fury. Before he could even open his mouth, his father barked a low, commanding order: “Apologize to Evelyn immediately! And cut all ties with that Chloe girl, do you hear me?!” Arthur’s head snapped up. His eyes were completely bloodshot. “I WILL NOT!” “Chloe is the only woman I am ever going to love! No one is going to tear us apart!” His father was so enraged his hands were shaking violently. “Say that again?!” “If it weren’t for Evelyn’s family protecting us in the capital, do you think the Sterling Group would be where it is today?! If you dare betray Evelyn, you are no longer my son!” Arthur ground his teeth together. In the end, he didn’t talk back, but he didn’t offer a single word of apology either. He just kept his head down and stormed out the door. His father turned to me and gave a heavy nod. “Evelyn, go home with him. Talk some sense into him.” I gave a slight nod and followed Arthur outside. Just as we reached the front steps, Arthur suddenly spun around, grabbed my arm in a vice grip, and violently dragged me toward his car without saying a word. The car door slammed shut with a deafening SLAM. Before I could even buckle my seatbelt, he slammed his foot on the gas. The car shot forward like a rabid animal. His eyes were burning red. He gritted his teeth and spat out: “Evelyn Hayes, you are unbelievable.” “You transferred back here just to spy on me? The arranged marriage wasn’t enough to chain me down, so you had to use the police to intimidate me?” I rubbed my arm where his fingers had dug in, not saying a single word. Seeing my silence, he shot me a sideways glare dripping with pure, venomous mockery: “Don’t blame me for finding someone else. Take a look in the mirror. You wear those depressing, rigid uniforms every single day. Your face is colder than a corpse.” “And let’s not even talk about us in bed. Every single time, it’s exactly the same. You just lie there with your eyes closed, like a dead piece of wood.” “Chloe is younger than me, but she knows exactly how to please a man. Being with her is the first time I’ve ever felt my heart race. It’s the first time I’ve ever felt alive!” He was likely furious that I had him arrested, so every word he threw at me was designed to cause maximum psychological damage. Every sentence felt like a serrated knife carving into my chest, leaving me bleeding and raw. For three years of marriage, I had stupidly believed that if I was just patient enough, I could eventually warm his frozen heart. Instead, all I got in return was absolute humiliation and freezing indifference. While I was sitting there paralyzed, his phone suddenly rang. I glanced down. The name flashing on the screen was: “Little Star.” The moment I saw those two words, my nose stung sharply, and tears threatened to spill over. He quickly answered the call. A sobbing, fragile voice instantly came through the speakers: “Arthur… I cut my finger… it hurts so badly… please come here…” Arthur’s face drastically changed. The vicious hostility he had aimed at me vanished instantly, replaced by a voice so soft and tender it didn’t even sound like him: “Don’t cry, baby, don’t be scared. I’m on my way right now. Be a good girl, wait for me.” He hung up the phone, violently wrenched the steering wheel, and slammed on the brakes, pulling the car to a screeching halt on the shoulder of the road. He threw out two freezing words: “Get out.” “We’re at least ten miles from the city center. How am I supposed to…” Before I could finish, he aggressively leaned over, unbuckled my seatbelt, violently shoved the passenger door open, and roared: “GET THE FUCK OUT!” I was brutally shoved out of the car. My foot caught on the curb, and I nearly face-planted onto the asphalt, stumbling several steps before I caught my balance. The next second, the car door slammed shut. The black Maybach kicked up a massive cloud of dust and sped away, completely abandoning me on the side of the road. The biting wind cut through my clothes. I stood completely alone on the edge of the deserted highway. My phone battery was at exactly 5%. I gritted my teeth and dialed the precinct’s dispatch number. But before the call could even connect, the screen went completely black. My phone had died. I dragged my freezing, trembling legs down the highway for what felt like hours. My vision started to blur. Finally, my body gave out entirely, and I collapsed onto the freezing asphalt. When I woke up, the overwhelming stench of hospital antiseptic filled my nose. I was lying in a hospital bed, an IV drip taped to the back of my hand. A doctor walked over, his expression grim and complicated. “You’re awake?” “You suffered a miscarriage. The pregnancy was already high-risk, and walking in the freezing cold for that long…” Miscarriage? I froze. My fingers subconsciously drifted down to rest on my flat stomach. So… there had been a tiny life growing inside me… It didn’t even give me the chance to realize it was there before it slipped away. The doctor let out a heavy sigh. “Get some rest. You need to recover.” After the door closed, I plugged my dead phone into the wall charger. The second it booted up, a breaking news alert popped up on my screen: [Billionaire CEO Arthur Sterling Summons City’s Top Surgeons at Midnight Because Young Girlfriend Suffers Minor Papercut!] In the attached photo, Arthur was holding Chloe tightly in his arms, his face etched with profound, agonizing concern. Chloe’s hand was zoomed in on, clearly showing a microscopic, superficial scratch near her cuticle. My heart was brutally impaled all over again. While he was holding another woman, terrified over a papercut, I was lying unconscious on the side of a highway, losing our child… I ripped the IV needle out of my hand. Like a sleepwalker, I stumbled out of my hospital room. But as I rounded the corner of the hallway, I ran straight into Arthur and Chloe. Arthur’s brow instantly furrowed, his eyes filling with absolute, unadulterated disgust. “Evelyn, are you completely insane? You followed us to the hospital and faked an illness just to stalk me? Weren’t you supposed to be the proud, untouchable career woman? How could you stoop to something this pathetic?” I looked at him, my voice trembling so violently I could barely form words. “I had a miscarriage.” Chloe’s eyes widened in shock. She violently grabbed Arthur’s arm. “Arthur! Didn’t you swear to me that you hadn’t touched her in years?! Whose baby is that?!” “You lied to me! We’re done!” Arthur’s face panicked. He immediately wrapped his arms around her, desperately coaxing her, “Don’t listen to her psychotic lies! I see her exactly once a month for a mandatory dinner, and I haven’t laid a single finger on her!” “Baby, you exhaust me every single night. I don’t have an ounce of energy left to give to anyone else, I swear!” After placating Chloe, he turned back to glare at me, his tone turning vicious and cruel. “Evelyn Hayes, who the hell do you think you are? You think you can get pregnant from sitting across a dining table from me? Have you looked in a mirror lately?” A crowd of patients and nurses had gathered in the hallway, their whispers drilling into my ears. “Who is that woman? She’s wearing a police uniform, but she’s harassing Mr. Sterling?” “Did you hear her? She’s claiming she had a miscarriage. She’s probably trying to trap him with a fake pregnancy to extort him.” “Everyone knows Mr. Sterling is completely obsessed with Ms. Chloe. This cop is delusional.” Those judgmental stares felt like razor blades slicing my skin. There was nowhere to hide. My body went completely numb, but my brain suddenly exploded with a realization. Last month, Arthur flew to the state capital to visit me. During dinner, he had a few too many drinks. That night, he didn’t sleep in the guest room. He held me tightly in his arms, refusing to let go, constantly whispering “Baby” and “Little Star.” His voice was so burning and passionate it made my heart race. I thought he had finally dropped his guard. I thought our relationship was finally changing. It was because of that exact night that I made the definitive choice to transfer my career back to this city, hoping we could finally build a real home. But now… seeing the contact name he used for Chloe on his phone—”Little Star”… Hearing him call her that exact nickname over and over again… I finally understood everything. That night, he wasn’t calling my name. He had hallucinated that I was her. That night of overwhelming tenderness, that embrace that made my heart pound… It was nothing but a humiliating case of mistaken identity. A violent, agonizing cramp twisted my stomach. I leaned heavily against the wall just to keep from collapsing. Arthur was still whispering sweet nothings to Chloe, his voice so soft and gentle it dripped with honey. It was a terrifying contrast to the freezing, venomous hatred he had just aimed at me. Chloe finally stopped fake-crying. She plastered a condescending, fake smile on her face and sauntered slowly over to me. “Evelyn, you really shouldn’t take things so seriously.” “Love can’t be forced. Arthur doesn’t have a single shred of feelings for you. The harder you try to hold on, the more pathetic you look.” I stared at her with dead eyes, not saying a single word. She acted like she didn’t even notice my silence, continuing her arrogant monologue. “To put it bluntly, the person who isn’t loved is the third wheel. If you just let go now, it would be a lot easier for everyone.” Saying that, she suddenly pulled up the hem of her designer crop top, revealing a blue tattoo on her waist: Arthur’s Little Starlight. Then, she violently yanked the hem of Arthur’s shirt up, intentionally showing me the exact same spot on his waist. On Arthur’s waist, there was indeed a line of small, tattooed text: Chloe’s Protector. Seeing those words, I wanted to laugh hysterically, but I also wanted to vomit. The ruthless, cutthroat CEO of the Sterling Group, a man whose gaze was as cold as a butcher’s knife in the boardroom… willingly tattooed that nauseating, cringey garbage onto his body. It felt like someone was taking a sledgehammer to my chest, pounding it until it was completely numb. So he was capable of going insane for someone. It just wasn’t me. Chloe proudly dropped his shirt. Her fingers lightly traced his waistline as she pouted playfully. “Arthur said I was the only woman in the world who could make him do something like this. Evelyn, could you ever make him do that?” A violently nauseating wave of bile rushed up my throat. I turned to walk away. Chloe suddenly reached out to grab me. The very second her manicured fingertips brushed the sleeve of my uniform, she dramatically threw her body weight backward, shrieking as she collided with a metal medical cart. CRASH! Glass IV bottles shattered all over the floor. Chloe sat amidst the broken glass, clutching her arm. A tiny trickle of blood seeped through her fingers. “Arthur!” she sobbed, struggling to catch her breath. Arthur’s eyes instantly turned demonic. He lunged forward and grabbed me violently by the collar of my uniform. “EVELYN HAYES! ARE YOU ASKING FOR A DEATH WISH?!” “APOLOGIZE TO HER. RIGHT NOW!” I shoved his hands off my collar, acting on pure instinct. “I didn’t even touch her! Why the hell should I apologize?!” His face turned an apocalyptic shade of purple. He roared at his bodyguards standing nearby. “Hit her! Slap her until she begs for forgiveness!” Two massive bodyguards instantly tackled me. One pinned my arms behind my back in a vice grip, while the other raised his hand and delivered a brutal, full-force slap to my face. SMACK! The sound echoed through the hospital corridor like a gunshot. My cheek burned with agonizing, blinding pain. “Are you going to apologize?” Arthur glared at me, his eyes colder than the Arctic. I gritted my teeth, blood seeping from the corner of my mouth. “No.” SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! The slaps rained down on me, each one heavier than the last. My head was violently whipped to the side by the force of the blows, only to be forcibly yanked back to face forward, helpless as I watched the hand strike me over and over again. The crowd of onlookers was completely paralyzed by terror. Not a single person dared to intervene. Chloe was nestled safely in Arthur’s arms, covertly peeking out from behind his shoulder, a twisted, victorious smirk hiding on her lips. After more than a dozen brutal slaps, my face was swollen, bruised, and burning. My vision was swimming. Arthur raised his hand, signaling the bodyguards to stop. He spoke with a terrifyingly calm, dead voice. “I am going to ask you one last time. Are you going to apologize?” I shook my dizzy, throbbing head. Blood dripped steadily from my chin onto my uniform. “I… didn’t… push her.” His eyes turned to absolute ice. He bent down, picked up a jagged shard of broken glass from the floor, grabbed my arm, and viciously slashed a deep, bleeding gash into my skin, in the exact same spot Chloe claimed she was injured. “Then remember this pain! Let’s see if you ever dare to touch her again!” Blood instantly erupted from the wound, pouring rapidly down my arm. He didn’t even spare me a second glance. He scooped Chloe up into his arms and walked away. The hallway emptied out. I leaned heavily against the wall. My face was throbbing, my arm was bleeding, but none of it compared to the apocalyptic, freezing cold inside my heart. He never believed me. Never. My words were completely worthless compared to a single fake tear from Chloe. Since he had made his choice, he couldn’t blame me for being ruthless! Gripping the crumpled ultrasound report in my hand, I stood silently in the hallway for a few moments. Then, I dialed two numbers I had memorized by heart. That night, squad cars surrounded the hospital.

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“I’m so sorry, but this flight is oversold. Here is a two-hundred-dollar voucher. You need to deplane immediately!” The lead flight attendant had a death grip on my carry-on roller bag. I looked at him coldly, then shifted my gaze to the woman standing next to him. She had just been escorted onto the plane, dripping in head-to-toe designer gear. “Why does she get to board late, while I, holding a full-fare ticket, am being kicked off?” I demanded. The flight attendant sneered, leaning in close to whisper sarcastically, “Because she is Chloe Sterling, of the Sterling Medical Group family. She’s rushing to New York to beg ‘The Miracle Surgeon’—the one no one can ever find—to save her life.” “You think whatever emergency you have matters compared to a life-and-death situation? If you delay Ms. Sterling, you couldn’t repay that debt in ten lifetimes. Now, get lost!” I was dragged off the plane by several beefy security guards. I watched through the terminal window as the cabin door closed. I started laughing from sheer anger. The “Ms. Sterling” he was talking about has a terminal illness. And what he didn’t know was that I am that “Miracle Surgeon.” Her family had spent three months begging on their knees before I finally agreed to fly to New York today to perform her operation. Since they kicked me off, I’m not doing the surgery. Good luck, Sterling. You’re going to need it. Chapter 1 I dragged my suitcase, step by heavy step, over to the gate agent’s counter. “I need to cancel and refund my ticket.” I slammed my ID onto the laminate countertop, my voice thick with resentment. The agent glanced at the screen, looked me up and down, and actually rolled her eyes. “So sorry, but since you ‘chose’ not to board, this is considered a voluntary cancellation. You only get back the taxes and facility fees. That’s sixty bucks. No full refund.” I was so angry I laughed. “Voluntary?” “Your airline oversold the flight and had security drag a full-fare passenger off the plane. You call that voluntary on my part?” The agent’s fingers flew across the keyboard, clacking loudly. She looked incredibly impatient. “Look, you were causing a scene in the jet bridge, disrupting order. Breaking federal regulations.” “Honestly, you should be happy you’re getting sixty bucks back. Don’t push your luck.” Just then, the sound of expensive leather shoes echoed from the terminal floor. That same lead flight attendant from before was walking over, head held high, holding his phone up, recording me. “Look at this loser, trying to scam the airline for cash after getting booted. Totally broke and desperate!” “You just want a bigger compensation voucher, don’t you? Why act so high and mighty?” The flight attendant crossed his arms, his face twisted in mockery. “Is two hundred not enough for a peasant like you?” “Maybe I should post this video online so everyone can see how pathetic you are. Who knows? Some nice person might start a GoFundMe for you. A charity case!” I stared at his insufferable face, fighting to keep my rage under control. “You are going to regret everything you did today.” The flight attendant reacted as if he’d just heard the funniest joke in the world. He laughed so hard tears almost came out. “Regret? Me? Regret something concerning a piece of trash like you who can’t even afford Economy Plus, let alone First Class?” “Ms. Sterling chartered the entire First Class cabin. Even her bodyguards are in Business. Her security detail is worth more than your life.” “Who do you think you are, making me regret something?” He spun around, shouting at the top of his lungs to the passengers milling around the concourse. “Everyone, look at this guy!” “He’s the one who refused to cooperate during an overbooking situation and tried to blackmail the airline! Now he’s harassing the gate agents, delaying everyone. He’s a menace!” The surrounding passengers were instantly drawn in. Whispers and judging looks began to fly. “He looks decent, how can he be such a scumbag?” “Exactly. The airline offered compensation, and he still made a scene. He’s crazy for money!” “Just get out of here, stop embarrassing yourself!” I ignored the onlookers and turned back to the gate agent. “Fine. Cancel it.” “But you are going to write down, in black and white, on the receipt, that this was an Involuntary Denial of Boarding due to airline overbooking.” I needed a paper trail. When the Sterling family inevitably came looking for me, I wasn’t going to let them think I broke the contract voluntarily. I was not taking the fall for this. The flight attendant’s face darkened. He slammed his hand on the counter. “In your dreams!” “We offered you a solution, and you refused it. Now you want to slander the airline?” “Where is security? Are they deaf? Drag this lunatic out of here!” Several airport police officers immediately rushed over, grabbing my arms from both sides in a vice grip. “Let go of me!” I struggled desperately, but the cops didn’t listen. They began dragging me toward the airport exit. As they dragged me past the flight attendant, I couldn’t help but issue a final warning. “You better remember my face today. And remember every word that just came out of your mouth.” “Very soon, you’ll be on your knees begging me.” He wasn’t intimidated in the slightest. Instead, he kicked my rolling suitcase over. The already damaged suitcase split completely open. Clothes and specialized, custom-compounded medications spilled across the dirty floor. The flight attendant stomped on one of the glass vials, crushing it instantly. The specialized formula inside turned to powder under his heel. It was over. That was the specialized medication I had compounded specifically for Chloe Sterling. It was the only dose in the world! Without those meds, Chloe Sterling would never survive the post-operative recovery period! “Oh my, I am so sorry,” the flight attendant mocked with fake sympathy. Countless phone cameras were aimed at me. A barrage of mockery overwhelmed me. I was thrown out of the departure terminal, landing hard on the concrete sidewalk. The flight attendant tossed my suitcase—broken and open—onto me like he was throwing out trash. “Take your garbage and get lost! You make trouble again, and we’re locking you up for disturbing the peace!” Just then, my phone began vibrating like crazy in my pocket. The second I answered, a barrage of furious questions blasted through the speaker. “What is wrong with you!” “The plane took off ages ago. I just checked the flight manifest, and your name isn’t even on it!” It was the Sterling family’s chief of staff. His tone was arrogant, demanding answers. “The Sterling family put so much effort into hiring you. We wired you a massive retainer, and you decide to play diva at the last second?” “Who do you think you are, making the Sterlings wait?” “If it weren’t for the fact that you’re supposed to be the best surgeon for this, you think you’d be worthy of treating our Ms. Chloe?” I tried to explain it was the airline’s fault, but he wouldn’t listen. “I’m warning you. Our daughter’s illness cannot wait. If you are not in the operating room at New York-Presbyterian before sundown today, don’t blame the Sterlings for getting nasty!” “You took Sterling money, you better deliver. Believe me, I can make sure you never practice medicine in this country again!” The call slammed shut. The dial tone droned in my ear. My heart was bursting with fury. I dialed the number back. The second it connected, the chief of staff’s impatient voice snapped, “What else could you possibly have to say? Figure it out and charter a private plane if you have to!” “Don’t bother,” I said, my voice cold. “If you want to know why I’m not on that plane, go ask the lead flight attendant of Chloe’s flight.” “What does that mean?” “Exactly what I said.” I hung up immediately. I opened my mobile banking app, found the three-million-dollar retainers—the “good faith payment”—the Sterlings had sent, and hit ‘Return to Sender.’ I added a four-word note: Find Someone Else. Three million might be a fortune to some, but to me, it wasn’t worth the humiliation I endured today. I blocked every Sterling family contact number. Total blackout. Looking at the crushed specialized medication scattered on the pavement, I let out a cold laugh. Chloe Sterling, your life is out of my hands. I hailed a cab and went straight back to the hospital. I had just sat down in my office when my phone started vibrating like crazy again. It was Dr. Evans, the hospital President. He was screaming the moment I answered. “Ethan Vance! What in God’s name is going on!” “The Sterling family just called me! They said you were causing a riot at the airport and tried to attack Ms. Sterling!” “The flight attendant was apparently forced to remove you from the flight to protect Ms. Sterling. Instead of being remorseful, you had the audacity to return their retainer?” I was stunned. Once it clicked, I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. That flight attendant’s ability to twist the truth was world-class. To cover up the airline’s overselling mistake, he concocted a lie like that. And the hilarious part was that the Sterling family actually believed that total garbage without checking for two seconds. “Old Mrs. Sterling herself gave the order. You are to get on the next flight to New York, get on your knees, beg Chloe Sterling for forgiveness, and perform the surgery immediately!” “If you dare refuse, consider yourself fired!” I ignored the screaming through the phone. I pulled out a blank sheet of paper and quickly scrawled my letter of resignation. I walked upstairs and pushed open the President’s office door. Dr. Evans was still holding his phone, looking surprised to see me. Slap! I slammed the resignation letter hard onto his desk. “Don’t bother firing me. I resign.” Dr. Evans stared at the paper, his eyes wide. “Are you insane? You think resigning lets you off the hook with the Sterlings?” I leaned over his desk, looking down at him. “Dr. Evans, I’m burned out. I’m taking a very long vacation out of state.” “If the Sterlings have the power to revoke my medical license, let them try. If they want to blacklist me, let them.” I turned and walked out. “Wait!” “You come back here!” Dr. Evans was screaming behind me in useless rage. I didn’t look back. I walked right out of the building. I did the math in my head. It was about time. Chloe Sterling’s terminal illness was being held at bay solely by that specialized medication I compounded. Now the meds were gone, and she was at thirty thousand feet. It was time for the symptoms to flare up. When I got home, I turned off my phone, drew the curtains, and slept like the dead. Early the next morning, the moment I turned on my phone, it was flooded with missed calls from the Sterling family. Immediately, an unknown number with a local area code called. I answered, and a familiar voice came through. “Dr. Vance! Please, you have to get to the airport right now! Ms. Sterling started vomiting blood on the flight and collapsed into a coma!” “The airline has authorized a complimentary Business Class seat to fly you specifically to New York on a private charter!” It was the lead flight attendant from yesterday. I let out a cold sneer and exposed him immediately. “Complimentary Business Class? Didn’t you say yesterday I was a broke loser who only deserved to be dragged off the plane?” “Shut up!” He was panicked, but his tone was still demanding and arrogant. “The Sterling family is putting immense pressure on the airline. If I lose my job because of you, I’m coming for you! Get your ass down here now!” I hung up immediately. I blocked that number too. Less than half an hour later, a thunderous pounding erupted at my front door. Boom! Boom! Boom! Along with a strong, pungent chemical smell. “Ethan Vance! You murderous quack! Get out here!” I ripped the door open. A bucket of red paint had been thrown over my outer security door, dripping down the crevices. The flight attendant, flanked by several beefy airline security guards, stood aggressively at my doorstep. Neighbors were already gathering in the hallway, peeking out and whispering. “What a shame. He seemed like such a nice young man, but turns out he’s a corrupt doctor.” “Exactly. They’re throwing paint on his door. He must have done something truly awful!” Hearing the gossip, the flight attendant got even more smug. “Look at this quack, everyone!” “He took a patient’s money and didn’t do his job. He intentionally delayed treatment, causing the patient to be in critical condition!” “Now he’s hiding in his apartment playing dead. A corrupt doctor like this belongs in prison!” His face was contorted in fury. He was clearly being pushed to the brink by the Sterling family and was trying to use me as a scapegoat to save himself. “You think hiding works? Today, you are getting to New York even if I have to drag your corpse there!” I looked at the red paint on the floor and was about to call the police when a heavy set of footsteps echoed from the stairs. Several bodyguards in black suits roughly pushed the spectating neighbors aside. Sterling’s chief of staff walked up, looking down at me with supreme arrogance. The flight attendant immediately fawned over him. “Chief, look, I found him! This won’t delay Ms. Sterling’s treatment!” The chief of staff didn’t even give him a glance. He walked straight up to me. “Dr. Vance, are you done with your tantrum?” He pulled out a check and waved it between his fingertips. “Six million. Double the original retainer.” “Come with me right now, and the Sterlings will let bygones be bygones.” I didn’t even look at the check. I coldly spit out two words. “Not interested.” “Don’t push your luck, kid!” The chief of staff’s face instantly darkened, the polite mask slipping. “You really think you can afford to offend the Sterling family?” He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping low, filled with an icy chill. “You don’t want to go? Fine. Today, I am kidnapping you. I will strap you to that operating table myself.” “You don’t want to pick up the scalpel? The Sterlings have plenty of ways to make you.” “I heard… Dr. Vance’s father currently resides at the Cornwall Assisted Living Facility?” My entire body shuddered. They were despicable enough to track down my father’s whereabouts. “You dare touch my father, and you’re dead!” I gritted my teeth, staring at him with pure hatred. “To cure our daughter, the Sterlings will do whatever it takes.” The chief of staff sneered repeatedly, supreme arrogance on his face. “You better smarten up. Go pack your things now.” “Otherwise, I guarantee your father will be thrown out of that facility today, left on the street!” The surrounding bodyguards immediately stepped forward, restraining me. The flight attendant gloated from the sidelines. “Did you hear that? Still trying to act tough in front of the Sterlings? You really won’t give up until you see the coffin, will you?” Looking at their ugly faces, I suddenly started to laugh. The chief of staff’s brow furrowed, extremely impatient. “What are you laughing at!” “I’m laughing at how stupid you are.” I stopped smiling and looked at the flight attendant, who was still looking triumphant. “You really think I’m refusing to save Chloe Sterling because of a grudge?” “Even if I went right now, she’s already dead.” The chief of staff’s face changed dramatically. She grabbed my collar. “What do you mean!”

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On National Doctors’ Day, March 30th, I boarded an Amtrak Acela express train heading back to Washington D.C. for work. I never expected that the moment I boarded, I would find a strange man sitting in the seat I had paid for. At first, I politely asked him to move. But he decided to act like a creep, spouting some nonsense about “waiting for destiny to bring him the right person.” After several failed attempts to reason with him, I had no choice but to find the train conductor. Instead of helping, the conductor accused me of having “Princess Syndrome” and actually took the seat-stealer’s side. I stared at their ugly, smug faces in absolute shock. I pulled out my ticket confirmation and refused to back down. Suddenly, the seat-stealer exploded into a violent rage. He snatched the medical sample box out of my hands and smashed it onto the floor. “You crazy bitch! You steal my stuff and then act like a victim?! Let’s see how you like this!” He had absolutely no idea. What he just smashed was the only existing vial of KD-1 antibody serum in the entire country, specifically synthesized for pediatric acute lymphoblastic leukemia. During the struggle, I accidentally caught a glimpse of the man’s train ticket. I couldn’t help but smile. Since you love stealing seats and smashing things so much, you’d better be ready to face the absolute devastation coming your way! 1 I am a senior researcher at a National Laboratory. Shortly after the holidays, I received an urgent directive to personally transport a highly classified medical sample back to the D.C. headquarters. Because the timeline was so tight, the only ticket I could secure was a standard coach seat on the Amtrak Acela. Before I left, my department head explicitly warned me: “This sample is of paramount importance. You must bring it back intact. I have already arranged for personnel to coordinate with you along the route.” But when I boarded the train and found my assigned seat—Car 3, Seat 4A—there was a strange man sitting in it. After double-checking my ticket on my phone, I politely spoke up: “Excuse me, sir, I believe you might be in the wrong seat.” The man shot me a sideways glance, shifted his weight, and closed his eyes, pretending to sleep. I assumed that because the train was packed with people returning to work after the holidays, it was just too loud and he hadn’t heard me. So, I repeated myself a little louder. The moment the words left my mouth, he didn’t even bother lifting his head. He just grunted, “Waiting for destiny!” and squeezed his eyes shut again. Seeing that he had absolutely zero intention of moving, my patience snapped. I lowered my voice and said sternly: “Sir, refusing to vacate an assigned seat on federal transit is a violation of Amtrak policy and constitutes a public disturbance. Please move immediately!” “Who the hell are you trying to scare?” The man finally opened his eyes, letting out a mocking scoff. “You buy a coach train ticket and suddenly think you’re a princess? You say this seat is yours, so it magically belongs to you? Is your name carved into the cushion?” I shoved my digital ticket screen right in his face: “Read it. Car 3, Seat 4A. My seat.” I looked him up and down. “Where’s your ticket?” The man pulled a crumpled ticket from his pocket, glanced at it, and then guiltily slouched back against the headrest. “Why are you yelling? This is a quiet car!” He then puffed out his chest, acting incredibly self-righteous: “Fine, the seat is yours. But I never said I wasn’t going to give it back! Do you know why I’m not moving?” He answered his own question: “Because your attitude was terrible! You were extremely disrespectful to me!” I actually laughed out of sheer disbelief. I set my suitcase down in the aisle. Just as I opened my mouth to argue with this absolute clown, a chorus of impatient groans erupted from the passengers bottlenecked behind me. “Hey, are you guys done up there?!” “Can you let us get to our seats before you start a screaming match?” “You’re blocking the whole aisle, what is your problem?!” The moment he heard the crowd, the man instantly switched masks. He waved his hands placatingly at the people behind me: “Sorry folks, no need to rush, take your time—” Then he turned his head and began “advising” me in a loud, patronizing tone: “Jeez, lady, look at yourself. You have a whole line of people waiting on you, aren’t you embarrassed? Even if you want to throw a hysterical tantrum, learn to read the room!” As soon as he spun the narrative, the ignorant bystanders immediately pointed their frustration at me: “Seriously, the guy is being so polite about it, why are you being so aggressive?” “It’s a morning train, everyone’s stressed. Just show a little grace!” “I’m going to be late for work! Can you stop wasting everyone’s time?!” In the chaos of people pushing past us, someone violently shoved me from behind. The force knocked the sample box off the top of my suitcase, sending it crashing to the floor. My heart stopped. This was the only existing vial of the KD-1 antibody serum in the United States. It was engineered specifically for a highly aggressive, historically untreatable strain of pediatric acute lymphoblastic leukemia. Three years of grueling research. Over a thousand rounds of synthesis. Methodically eliminating over two thousand candidate strains until this single, viable culture remained. This trip to D.C. was specifically to deliver it for immediate, Phase 1 clinical trials. If successful, this serum would save the lives of thousands of children who had been issued a death sentence by their doctors. I frantically dropped to my knees, snapped the box open, and checked the structural integrity of the vials. Seeing that the vials were intact, I let out a massive breath I didn’t know I was holding. Clutching the box to my chest, I stood up and screamed at the man: “MOVE! I am telling you for the absolute last time, get out of my seat!” “Why the hell are you screaming at me?! I didn’t knock your stupid box over!” The man remained glued to the seat, utterly shameless. He even rolled up his sleeves in a blatant display of provocation. “Wow, with that kind of psychotic attitude, I really don’t feel like moving now!” My anger ignited into a roaring inferno. Just as I was about to unleash on him, a man in an Amtrak conductor’s uniform pushed his way through the crowd. “What’s all this shouting about? What’s the problem here?” The man leaped out of his seat before I could even blink, rushing up to the conductor with a face full of exaggerated grievance. “Oh, officer, thank god you’re here!” “This woman is completely unhinged! She’s been screaming at me over a seat for ten minutes! Absolutely zero class!” I didn’t have the energy to argue with his delusions. I shoved my phone with the digital ticket directly under the conductor’s nose. “He is occupying my assigned seat. Please remove him.” The conductor took my phone, stared at the screen, swiped it back and forth a few times, and frowned deeply. “Ma’am, this ticket… why is the seat number completely distorted?” I froze. I looked down at the screen. The previously crisp “Car 3, Seat 4A” was now a pixelated, corrupted blur. I suddenly remembered that when I shoved the phone in the man’s face earlier, he had grabbed it for a second, his thumb swiping aggressively across the screen. I looked up, locking eyes with him. He was wearing a sickeningly smug smirk. “Sir, may I see your ticket?” The conductor turned to the man. The man slowly pulled a paper ticket from his pocket and beckoned the conductor closer. The two of them huddled together, whispering furiously. I watched the conductor’s expression shift from confusion, to shock, and finally, to extreme deference. He nodded frantically: “Understood! Absolutely, sir! I will handle this immediately.” Before I could even process what was happening, the conductor spun around and addressed me in a cold, bureaucratic tone: “This seat has been confirmed to belong to this gentleman. Your digital ticket is corrupted and cannot verify your seating assignment.” I stared at him, my eyes wide with sheer disbelief. “Are you serious?! Every single person in this aisle just heard him admit he was sitting in my seat! He confessed to it out loud!” The conductor replied with chilling calm: “The gentleman just explained the misunderstanding to me. Currently, your digital ticket cannot prove 4A belongs to you. Do you have any other witnesses who can verify your claim?” I looked around. The passengers who had been so self-righteously indignant just moments ago were now universally staring at their phones or their shoes, completely unwilling to get involved. I let out a harsh laugh and pulled up my Amtrak app. “Fine. You can look at my purchase history in the app database—” The conductor barely glanced at it before aggressively pushing my hand away, smiling condescendingly: “Ma’am, with how advanced Photoshop and spoofing apps are these days, a screenshot on your phone doesn’t prove anything.” Before I could respond, the automated chime signaling the doors were closing echoed through the car. The conductor smirked, pointing to the only empty seat left in the entire car—the one directly next to the man. “Ma’am, I suggest you realize you made a mistake. Your seat is clearly 4B. Sit down immediately, and stop delaying the train’s departure.” “Yeah, little lady,” the man drawled, his voice dripping with condescension. “I understand you women get a little emotional sometimes. I’ll be the bigger man and let this slide.” “Sit your ass down, and stop keeping this man from doing his job!” Little thing? When standing up for my legal rights was branded as a “hysterical tantrum,” and the victim was painted as the aggressor. No matter how small the issue, I was going to fight for what was mine! “I demand you pull up the central passenger manifest on your tablet and verify exactly who purchased Seat 4A!” “Are you out of your mind?” The conductor scoffed loudly. “This is an express train, I am incredibly busy, and I have five other cars to patrol.” “If I waste my time checking the system for your ego trip, and someone in another car gets robbed or has a medical emergency, are you going to take responsibility for that?!” The moment he said that, the “champions of justice” in the car immediately found their voices again: “The conductor works so hard, we’re all just trying to get through the day. Why are you making his life miserable?” “Seriously, keep your Princess Syndrome in check. If everyone was as selfish as you, how is the train staff supposed to do their jobs?” Facing a train car full of people actively villainizing me, I felt my blood pressure spike dangerously high. I grabbed my phone, ready to dial 911. But as I did, my gaze accidentally fell on the paper ticket the man had casually tossed onto his tray table. Train K1127. Unreserved Standing Room. That was… That was the regional commuter train boarding on the opposite platform! I stared at that line of text for three full seconds. Then, I lowered my phone and smiled brightly at the conductor. “You know what? Fine. He can keep it. I’ll just wait.” I clutched my sample box and sat down heavily in the seat next to the stunned, triumphant man. “See? That wasn’t so hard! You should have just done this from the beginning instead of fighting a losing battle!” He leaned back into the plush headrest, immensely satisfied, and closed his eyes. As the Acela Express smoothly accelerated out of the station, I watched the scenery blur past the window, practically biting my lip to keep from laughing out loud. Since you love stealing seats so much, don’t blame me for not telling you that you’re on a non-stop train heading in the exact opposite direction of your destination! 2 The train hummed along the tracks. I kept my eyes closed, just wanting to survive this agonizing ride in peace. But the man next to me was relentless. One minute he was manspreading, driving his knee into my space. The next minute he was violently bouncing his leg, shaking the entire row of seats. And every few minutes, he would let out a deafening, wet snore that made it impossible to relax. Driven to the edge of my sanity, I finally grabbed my sample box and fled to the café car to find some quiet. As soon as I found an empty booth, my phone rang. It was the Director of the National Laboratory. “Dr. Vance, is your transit proceeding smoothly?” I gave him a brief rundown of the absolute circus I had just experienced. When I mentioned the sample box being dropped, the Director’s voice turned lethal. “Hold your position for another hour and a half. I am dispatching a federal security detail to meet you directly at Union Station to escort you to the lab.” “I will handle the situation with Amtrak administration. Your only priority is protecting that sample!” “Understood!” I had just hung up when a terrifying, guttural howl echoed from the direction of Car 3. Remembering my suitcase was still at my seat, I clutched the sample box and sprinted back. As I entered the car, I saw the seat-stealing man standing in the middle of the aisle, looking absolutely frantic: “Where is my bag?! Did anyone see my bag?!” “That bag has the medicine to save my kid’s life! I fell asleep, and now it’s gone!” He grabbed the arm of the conductor, who had just rushed over: “Officer, you have to help me find it! My kid is waiting for me!” A wave of panicked murmurs swept through the car. Passengers immediately started checking under their own seats and in the overhead bins, but the man’s bag was nowhere to be found. In the midst of his panic, the man’s eyes locked onto the metal sample box I was clutching to my chest. “It was you! You stole my medicine to get back at me, and you hid it in that box!” He charged at me like a raging bull, reaching out to snatch it from my arms: “Give me my stuff back!” I scrambled backward, instinctively shielding the box with my body. “Your things are not in here!” “Bullshit!” The man’s eyes were completely bloodshot. “You’ve been holding onto that metal box like your life depends on it since you got on!” “You were conveniently gone exactly when my bag disappeared! You definitely stole my medicine while I was asleep and hid it in there!” The conductor marched up to me, his face a mask of severe authority: “Ma’am, return this gentleman’s property immediately, or I will be forced to place you under arrest!” I stared at the conductor, absolutely appalled: “Which one of your eyes saw my box magically swallow his bag?! You can’t accuse someone of theft without a shred of evidence!” The conductor frowned, leaned in close to my ear, and hissed menacingly: “Do you have any idea who this man is?” “He is a senior researcher for the National Laboratory! He is on a highly classified federal mission to D.C.! You stole from him—are you trying to get yourself thrown in federal prison?!” My brain completely short-circuited. He was the researcher? Then who the hell was I? While I was paralyzed by shock, the conductor violently ripped the sample box from my grasp. He spun around, holding it out to the man with both hands like he was presenting a sacred artifact: “Sir, please inspect the contents. Is your property inside?” “DO NOT OPEN THAT!” I screamed. If the internal climate seals were violently breached, the consequences for the biological sample would be catastrophic! But the man ignored me completely. He grabbed the heavy latch and violently ripped the lid open. Seeing the contents, his face froze. “It’s not in here!” He glared at me, and with a roar of frustration, he hurled the metal box directly onto the hard floor. “Where the hell did you hide my stuff?!” CRASH. My heart completely stopped beating. I watched in slow motion as a splash of pale golden liquid erupted from the shattered glass inside the casing. The sound of that shattering glass felt like the sound of thousands of dying children taking their final breath. I shoved my way through the panicked crowd, dropped to my knees, and stared at the glittering shards and the golden liquid rapidly seeping into the floor mats. I was shaking so violently I couldn’t breathe. “Do you have any idea what you just did?!” I lunged upward, grabbing the man by the collar of his shirt. He didn’t back down. His eyes looked like a rabid animal’s: “You have the nerve to yell at me?! So I broke a stupid glass tube! I lost the medicine that’s going to save my child’s life!” “Are you completely insane?! That is federal—” Before I could finish the sentence, a massive force wrenched my arm behind my back, and I was violently shoved face-first into the passenger seat. As the pain of a dislocated shoulder blinded me, I heard the conductor screaming into his radio: “Car 3 needs backup! Car 3 needs immediate backup! We have an active assault on a protected federal target! Get here now!” The agonizing pain radiating from my shoulder made my vision swim, but I didn’t care. I just stared at the puddle of golden liquid on the floor, my eyes burning with tears of absolute devastation. “Open your goddamn eyes and look at me—” I screamed at the conductor with every ounce of strength left in my lungs: “I AM THE RESEARCHER FROM THE NATIONAL LABORATORY!” The backup security officers who had just rushed into the car froze, looking at each other in confusion.

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Chase Sterling and I were purely platonic friends for twenty-six years. We were inseparable, but he was a relentless player who couldn’t stand being alone. So, whenever he got a new girlfriend, I would proactively distance myself and cut contact. On my twenty-seventh birthday, Chase—likely annoyed by his family constantly pressuring him to settle down—showed up at my front door bright and early. “Quinn, why don’t we just make do with each other?” I was just about to curse him out when he added, “I’m serious.” For the first time ever, Chase crossed the boundary and held his hand out to me. I looked at him and thought about it for a few seconds. “Chase, if we cross this line and become a couple, we can never be friends again if we break up.” He gave me his signature, cocky grin. “We’re not going to break up. I couldn’t bear to lose you.” And so, I took his hand. That “making do” lasted for three years. At our engagement party, Chase and his frat brother, Tyler, sneaked out to the balcony for a smoke. “Chase, I know you originally asked Quinn to be your cover because you were terrified your grandfather would go after Lily. But looking at her today… I think Quinn is actually genuinely in love with you.” “You didn’t… forget to tell her this was all just for show, did you?” The hazy cigarette smoke obscured Chase’s face. His voice was cold and indifferent. “I was in a rush that day. I forgot.” My footsteps came to a dead halt right around the corner. In my hand, I was holding the cold medicine I had just bought for him. Tyler sounded horrified. His voice spiked as he called him a bastard, then leaned in closer to ask: “So what the hell is the situation with you and Quinn now? Are you actually marrying her or not?” “Because just yesterday, right before your engagement, I saw Lily post on her private story. You were at her apartment in the middle of the night, wearing nothing but a bathrobe, cooking her late-night snacks.” Chase let out a low chuckle. “Lily is my real girlfriend, obviously.” “As for Quinn? She’s just a strategic business merger. What’s the difference between a real marriage and a fake one?” “I knew she liked me a long time ago. Giving her a picture-perfect marriage and the title of my wife… I’d say I’m treating her pretty damn well.” The glass of water in my hand grew so hot it burned my palm. I lowered my head, feeling incredibly pathetic. I realized the cold medicine tablets I was holding had already started melting into my sweaty skin. But what burned hotter was my face. It was the absolute, crushing humiliation of having my secret, years-long crush exposed, only to be mocked and trampled on. “You know what? Quinn is actually pretty clueless. I’ve been around the block enough times to know that nobody’s breathing hitches and refuses to make eye contact when they hold hands with a purely ‘business’ partner.” “She always acts so cool and indifferent, but she’s actually incredibly patient. She lets me get away with everything.” Chase coughed softly, a hint of smug bragging in his voice. “Two days before the engagement, I lied and told her I had an emergency business trip. She didn’t suspect a thing. She even packed my suitcase for me.” “Last night, Lily and I got a little crazy by the window. When I got home at 3 AM, my head was pounding, but all my meds were expired. Quinn literally threw a winter coat over her pajamas and ran out into the freezing cold to buy me medicine. Then she brewed me ginger tea and coaxed me to sleep.” “She woke up every half hour to feel my forehead, terrified I was running a fever.” “I don’t even think she realizes how obsessed with me she is.” Tyler sucked in a sharp breath. “Chase, she’s treated you like gold for years. I refuse to believe you haven’t caught even a tiny bit of feelings for her?” I stood outside the door. I felt like the biggest joke in the world. My eyes burned, and the tears threatened to spill. But I didn’t leave. I wanted to hear Chase’s answer. Without a single second of hesitation, Chase replied with dripping sarcasm. “What kind of stupid question is that? Of course I don’t.” “I’ve known Quinn for nearly thirty years. If we were going to happen, it would have happened a long time ago. I wouldn’t have waited until I was twenty-seven.” “My type has always been the sweet, innocent, soft girls. Quinn is a tough, cold badass. She completely misses every single box on my checklist.” “Love is something that hits you at first sight. I don’t believe in ‘growing to love someone over time.’ Even if you gave me another thirty years, I would never fall for her.” He took a deep drag of his cigarette, sounding completely self-righteous. “But Quinn is my best friend for life, and soon she’ll be my family. Even if I don’t love her, I’ll definitely make sure she’s taken care of.” “I want her, and I want Lily.” My heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise. But I couldn’t stop myself from smiling a bitter, hollow smile. What did Chase see me as? A convenient object he could just pick up and mold to his liking? Pick it up when he needed it, toss it aside when he didn’t. Just how pathetic and low did he think I was, to assume that marrying me was some kind of generous charity? Out on the balcony, Tyler sighed and patted Chase’s shoulder. “Let’s go back inside, man. The party is starting.” “So tonight, the plan is to introduce Lily as my cousin, right?” I turned my back and quickly hurried down the stairs. I sprinted into a vacant bathroom and dry-heaved over the sink. The tears fell faster than I could wipe them away, completely ruining my carefully done makeup. The emotions I had harbored for years suddenly felt like a putrid, suffocating swamp, pulling me under and making me physically sick. My phone buzzed constantly with group chat notifications. [It’s the engagement party! Where are our main characters?] [Chase and I are walking in now. My cousin is coming tonight too.] [Since when do you have a cousin, Tyler? Where’s Quinn? She’s been MIA.] I found an empty guest room. I washed my face clean and reapplied a light, sharp layer of makeup. For years, whenever Chase dated someone new, I proactively cut contact. Tonight, I wanted to see exactly what kind of girl had stolen his heart. As for him and me? I used a cotton swab to meticulously wipe away a stray tear from the corner of my eye, making sure my foundation was flawless. Chase probably thought I was joking when I told him on day one: If we break up, we don’t stay friends. But I, Quinn, have never been desperate for friends. And I absolutely refuse to spend another second of my life standing beside someone who doesn’t love me. “Baby, what took you so long?” The second I sat down in the VIP room, Chase leaned in, whining and acting cute. “I haven’t taken my meds tonight, and my cough is getting worse.” He blinked his puppy-dog eyes and nuzzled his face into my shoulder. There wasn’t a single trace of the cold, calculating bastard from the balcony. His friends around us started hooting and hollering. “Get a room! Leave the PDA at the door!” “You two are sickeningly sweet! If you weren’t so perfect for each other, I would have kicked you out of the group chat years ago!” “This is what you call a fairy-tale ending! Childhood sweethearts to soulmates! Chase played around for his whole life, but now he’s utterly whipped by our girl Quinn. It actually makes me believe in love.” The sticky, gross residue from the melting medicine tablets was still on my palm. I suppressed my nausea and offered a faint, detached smile. I leaned forward smoothly to grab a sparkling water from the table, expertly dodging Chase’s touch. “Where’s Tyler?” Chase had been about to lean in again, but hearing me ask about Tyler made him freeze. “He went to pick up his little sister! Oh, speak of the devil.” Tyler walked in, followed by a slender, fragile-looking girl in a white sundress. They sat down a few feet away. “You lucky bastard, Tyler. Your sister is gorgeous. You gonna introduce her to the single guys here?” one of the guys joked. Tyler shot an awkward, nervous glance at Chase and replied, “This is my sister, Lily.” “She’s a little shy and not used to this kind of scene, so go easy on her.” Amidst the roaring laughter, I looked at Lily. Her large, doe-like eyes were already locked tearfully onto Chase. The man who had just been trying to nuzzle into my shoulder quietly put some distance between us, leaning back against the armrest. That dull, throbbing pain flared up in my chest again. No matter how hard I tried to suppress it, the grief and fury were overwhelming. Lily hadn’t learned how to hide her feelings. Or maybe, because she was the one who was truly loved, she felt entitled to be bold. Her gaze lingered on Chase with reckless, unapologetic longing. My best friend, Zoe, instantly noticed I was unhappy. She didn’t hesitate. She smiled sharply and said, “Little girl, you shouldn’t be staring at that one. He’s getting married.” Lily’s face instantly flushed crimson. She quickly averted her eyes, forcing an embarrassed, fragile smile. “I’m sorry. I already have a boyfriend.” Chase still had a smile on his face, but his tone carried a sharp, defensive edge. “Zoe, you like to mess around, but not every sweet, innocent girl is like you.” Zoe’s temper flared instantly. She stood up, ready to smack him. I grabbed her arm, holding her back, and smiled directly at Chase. “You talk like you’re some saint. At least Zoe has never two-timed anyone.” Chase froze. He instinctively avoided my gaze. He forced a nervous chuckle to cover his panic. “I haven’t either, baby. Why are you suddenly getting mad at me?” Seeing my visibly icy expression, Chase grabbed a shot of liquor and downed it. “My bad, I phrased that wrong. I apologize to Zoe. Let’s drop it.” As everyone started laughing and changing the subject, I watched Lily look at Chase with profound, aching heartbreak. It was as if I was some tyrannical villain, ruthlessly torturing the two star-crossed lovers. “Alright, alright, let’s play a game! Camera Roll Roulette, how about it?” Tyler jumped in to smooth things over. “If you have anything sketchy on your phone, hide it now! Don’t traumatize us.” “I’ll pick the first date: May 17, 2023!” Everyone pulled out their phones. The rule was simple: if the bottle landed on you, you had to cast your camera roll from that exact date to the big screen for everyone to see. The bottle spun and landed pointing directly at me. I cast my phone screen to the TV. Ocean waves. A sandy beach. A candlelight dinner. And a screenshot of an UberEats delivery confirmation. “That was the year you guys went to the beach for your birthday, right?!” Zoe playfully shoved my shoulder, lowering her voice. “I even asked you if after twenty-eight years of being a saint, tasting a man for the first time was mind-blowing!” I smiled at Zoe. Those memories used to be so beautiful, but looking at them now, they only tasted like ash. One of the guys had sharp eyes and pointed at the screen. “Wait, you guys ordered delivery at 2:00 AM?” “What kind of delivery, Chase?! Was it that kind of delivery?!” The whole room erupted into wolf-whistles and laughter. But Chase, who usually loved dirty jokes, wasn’t smiling. He was staring at Lily, whose face had gone completely pale. “No, it was just some cold medicine. Don’t be gross.” A sudden, vicious wave of malice surged from my chest. “We ordered that medicine because you hurt me, didn’t we?” I smiled sweetly, willing to rip my own scars open just to make them sick to their stomachs. “You were entirely too rough. I have no idea why you were so frantic. That dress was incredibly expensive, and I only got to wear it once.” “Chase, you acted like you had never slept with a woman before. Your technique was terrible.” “Is it because the innocent little girls you usually like never let you touch them?” Amidst the roaring, scandalous cheers of the crowd… I watched Lily lower her head and wipe away tears. I watched Chase’s face twist in displeased, suffocating panic. Even though I had gotten the twisted satisfaction of laughing out loud… Why did my chest feel so painfully tight? Why did my nose sting? “Next!” Tyler wiped the sweat from his forehead and spun the bottle again. It pointed straight at Lily. She forced a fragile, trembling smile. “There’s nothing interesting on my camera roll.” Zoe looked at me, then at Lily, her sharp intuition immediately picking up on the vibe. She frowned. “Little girl, if you can’t handle the game, don’t sit at the table.” Chase frowned deeply. Before he could open his mouth to defend her, I grabbed his hand. I leaned in close to his visibly angry face. From the side angle, it probably looked like we were kissing. “Puppy, I’m a little hungry. Can you go order me some food?” Chase paused for a few seconds, but eventually stood up and walked over to the server by the door to grab an iPad. “I can handle it.” I knew Lily had watched our intimate interaction. Her voice was laced with grinding teeth. She glared at me, her eyes brimming with tears. It was the first time she had looked me dead in the eye all night, and her gaze was filled with reckless, undisguised hatred. Her phone screen was cast to the big screen. The very first image was a text message screenshot. One of the nosy guys in the group read it out loud. “‘Did you sleep with her? You swore to me it was just a strategic business merger! You promised you wouldn’t touch her!’” “‘But I was only thinking of you the entire time, my Lily.’” “‘I want fries, Quinn!’” The guy’s voice reading my food order perfectly overlapped with the last two words of that text message screenshot. The entire VIP room plunged into a suffocating, dead silence. I finished ordering and handed the iPad back to the server. I placed my violently trembling hands under the table and smiled. “What a coincidence.” “But listening to that… it sounds an awful lot like Ms. Lily is a homewrecker, doesn’t it?” “QUINN!” Chase snapped, shouting my name. Meeting my perfectly calm, dead eyes, he forced an ugly, strained smile. “Quinn. Don’t speak to a young girl like that.” Before I could even reply, Lily suddenly raised her voice. “I am NOT a homewrecker.” She stared directly at Chase, her face full of stubborn defiance. “My boyfriend and I are each other’s first loves. We were each other’s first everything. The only reason we’re separated is because his family is too stubborn and refused to let us be together!” “His relationship with his fiancée is just an open, arranged business merger. She had a desperate, pathetic crush on him, and his parents forced them together!” The young girl recklessly unleashed her pent-up emotions, swiping through the photos on her screen. “The day before May 17th, we celebrated his birthday together.” “His flight was at 11:00 PM, but he stayed with me until 9:00 PM before he finally rushed to the airport. He almost missed his flight.” “Before he left, he bought me flowers. We ate cake together, and we made love for hours.” “This is the birthday present he gave me. I just glanced at it on his phone, and he bought it for me instantly.” It was a photo of a breathtaking, dazzling sapphire ring. “He told me that in this lifetime, I am the only woman he will ever buy a ring for.” I was stunned. I had been at that exact auction. I had wanted that sapphire ring too, but some anonymous buyer had outbid everyone in the room with a blank check. Chase had coaxed me afterward. He promised he would buy me an even more beautiful one. But we were literally engaged now. I rubbed my bare, empty fingers. It suddenly hit me. Chase had never, ever bought me a ring. Lily swiped back to the screenshots from the 17th. As the images flew by, the truth hit me like a freight train. Even though he was physically next to me on that beach, Chase had been texting and coaxing her from morning until night. The beautiful scenery we saw? She got photos of all of it. The gorgeous travel souvenirs I looked at? Chase noted them in his app and had them shipped directly to her. And then, there was a photo of a cake. In the shadowy background of the picture, I could clearly see my own dress and the lower half of my chin. I saw myself, hands clasped together, eyes closed, earnestly wishing that I could stay with the man I loved forever. While he was sitting right next to me, texting Lily: “This cake is amazing. I’ll buy you one next time so you can taste it.” It was absolutely, sickeningly repulsive. I grabbed Zoe’s leg under the table. From the exact second that cake photo appeared on the screen… She had silently grabbed an empty glass liquor bottle. “Quinn, that’s… that’s…!” “Don’t rush it,” I smiled at Zoe. Her eyes were shimmering with furious tears. She muttered a few muffled curses about ‘idiots’ and ‘bitches.’ The atmosphere in the VIP room was so tense it was hard to breathe. “Is Ms. Lily finished? Then let’s move to the next round.” I calmly spun the bottle on the table. “I want to select April 2, 2025.” “Who’s playing?” For the first time all night, Chase completely lost his composure. He suddenly threw his arm around my shoulders. “Baby, my head is killing me.” “I just remembered I’m on antibiotics. I can’t be drinking tonight.” “Let’s go to the hospital, okay?” I methodically peeled his fingers off my shoulder one by one, and smiled. “No.” I was the first to cast my phone to the screen. The image was the stark, blinding white walls of a hospital room. It was a photo of the post-op care instructions for a miscarriage. It was the doctor’s warnings saved in my notes app. It was a screenshot of texts I sent to my mom. [The doctor said I might never be able to have children again.] [Mom, they still haven’t found the driver who caused the crash.] [Let’s postpone the courthouse wedding for now.] April 2, 2025, was exactly five days after the accident. On the day Chase and I were driving to the courthouse to officially sign our marriage license. A woman had suddenly sprinted directly into the middle of the road. There was enough distance to brake safely. Chase was an experienced driver; he even knew how to race cars. But he panicked. He panicked so completely that he violently yanked the steering wheel. The entire passenger side of the car—my side—was smashed brutally into the steel guardrail. The baby that had just barely developed a heartbeat was gone. I was critically injured and spent three days in the ICU. When I woke up, I saw Chase kneeling by my hospital bed. He had lost so much weight. He swore to me that he didn’t care if we never had kids, but in this lifetime, no matter what happened, he was going to stay by my side. “Let’s not look at this, Quinn.” Chase gripped my hand desperately, his eyes unable to hide his sheer terror. “I really don’t feel well. Let’s just leave, please.” Lily hesitated, about to disconnect her phone, but Zoe lunged across the table and snatched it out of her hand. With vicious speed, she swiped straight to that exact date. It was a mirror selfie of Lily wearing cheap, novelty lingerie. Followed by a shaky video, the camera pointed at a messy, dirty floor. Amidst the sounds of chaotic, heavy breathing… I heard Lily crying. “You said you hated me! You said you never wanted to see me again for the rest of your life! Why did you come back?!” She was kissed into silence. “I want to fucking kill you!” The man ground his teeth, his voice hoarse as he tried to soothe her. “Lily, that was my baby. Do you know she might never be able to get pregnant again?” “I can give you a baby!” Lily’s voice sounded so incredibly wronged and pitiful. “If you really want to make it up to her, just take our baby and give it to her to raise!” A heavy sigh echoed from Chase on the video. “I love you so much… how could I ever bear to let you lose your child?” “Just consider it… a debt she and I owe you.” I finished watching the grotesque, humiliating spectacle. I took the last sip of my drink, and set the glass down. It felt as if I was finally setting down thirty years of tangled, miserable history. “Chase, we’re done. Let’s break up.” The exact second the words left my mouth, Zoe smashed Lily’s phone against the wall and hurled the heavy glass liquor bottle directly at Chase’s head. “CHASE STERLING, FUCK YOU!” Lily threw herself over Chase to protect him. Tyler grabbed Zoe’s arms, narrowly avoiding getting his face clawed off by her manicured nails. But Chase just stared at me nervously. His eyes flickered with emotions I couldn’t understand, and frankly, had zero desire to decipher. I turned around and took long, purposeful strides out of the VIP room. My driver was already waiting downstairs. We sped all the way back to the apartment Chase and I shared. I pulled out my suitcases and rapidly packed up all my belongings. Even though we had lived together for two years, I was shocked to find that my entire life fit perfectly into just two suitcases. The driver loaded the bags into the trunk and drove me back to my parents’ estate. Everything had been such a chaotic blur. It wasn’t until I was lying in my childhood bed, staring out at the unfamiliar night skyline, that my heart finally slowed down. And then, the realization hit me. Chase and I were actually broken up. The dull, heavy pain I had been suppressing in my chest completely exploded in the silence of the empty room. I sobbed until my lungs burned. It felt like someone had literally carved a piece of flesh out of my body. Even if you know the flesh is necrotic and rotting, cutting it out still hurts like absolute hell. I don’t remember what time I finally cried myself to sleep. When I woke up, my eyes were so swollen they ached. I grabbed my phone. Chase had called me four times. And sent a barrage of texts. [Quinn, can we please just sit down and talk?] [After all these years, even if we can’t be together, are we really not going to be friends anymore?] [Quinn, please don’t do this.] The timestamp on his most recent message… Was right around the time my driver and I had pulled out of the underground parking garage at his building. So I hadn’t imagined it. That really was Chase sprinting desperately toward the elevator banks as my car drove away. I hugged my blanket tight and took two deep breaths. I raised my hand and permanently deleted Chase’s contact info. Break up. Two simple words. When I said them, I was absolutely resolute. I just didn’t expect the withdrawal period to be this agonizing. The most complicated part of all this was our engagement. Our families had deeply intertwined business interests, and we had just launched a massive joint venture. A messy, public fallout would be catastrophic for both sides. My mother saw the guilt on my face after I explained everything Chase had done over the years. Her tears fell first, her heart breaking for me. “Don’t worry about the Sterling family. Your father’s lawyers and I will handle everything.” “You just focus on resting and healing.” I kept my phone turned off for several days until my emotions finally began to stabilize, and then I slowly started checking my messages again. I heard through the grapevine that Chase had shown up at my family’s estate multiple times, but the security guards wouldn’t even let him through the front gates. “Your mom gave the security team a photo of Chase, and the license plates of every single car his family owns, and put them all on a permanent blacklist,” Zoe laughed, trying to cheer me up. “And he caught the family wrath.” “His grandfather beat him so badly he snapped a leather belt on him, and now he’s under house arrest.” “Serves him right!” Then, she scratched her head, looking a little awkward. “But his older brother… the CEO, Pierce Sterling… he asked me for your contact info. He wants to meet with you.” “At first, I told him to go to hell along with his brother.” “But then he told me some things, and I decided to pass the message along.” “Do you want to see him, Quinn?” Chase’s older brother? I searched my memory for any impression of him. He was the son of Mr. Sterling and his first wife. He had a quarter European blood and looked like he was sculpted out of marble. In my memory, he had always lived abroad. He was only three years older than our group of trust-fund brats, but he was incredibly accomplished, mature, and ruthless in business. He had already taken over half of the Sterling Group’s operations.

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