Category: English

After school, my daughter climbed into the backseat of the car and pulled out a blueberry muffin. My husband’s face instantly darkened. “No eating in the car! Who taught you to be so undisciplined?” My daughter jumped, terrified. My husband stared at a tiny crumb that had fallen onto the leather seat, and his temper exploded. “You’re exactly like your mother. Absolutely zero class!” My hand froze on the door handle. Sitting in the passenger seat, his female assistant pulled her phone out of the latest season’s Chanel bag and checked the time. “Derek, the client is arriving soon. Let’s not delay business over something so trivial.” Derek threw a pack of tissues at my face. “Pick up every single crumb, then take an Uber home!” The car sped off, its tires splashing a puddle of dirty rainwater all over my clothes. I stood on the sidewalk holding my daughter’s hand. The damp wind blew against my freezing face. Back then, to help him keep up appearances for his business, I had used the inheritance my dad left me to buy that Mercedes S-Class in cash. I shook the muddy water off my coat and dialed my older brother’s number. “Lucas, I need to sell the Mercedes. As fast as possible. Also, that loan you were preparing to send Derek for his materials? Cancel it.” …… I waited on the curb for twenty minutes before finally flagging down a cab. The moment I opened the door, the stench of stale cigarette smoke and cheap leather hit me in the face. I instinctively covered my nose. The driver looked at me with open disdain. “It’s rush hour, lady. Cabs are hard to find. Are you getting in or not?” I swallowed my discomfort and lifted my daughter into the backseat. The driver lit a cigarette and started puffing away like we weren’t even there. “Excuse me, could you please put that out? I have a child in the car.” The driver looked me up and down through the rearview mirror. “You sure are demanding. If you want luxury, go drive your own private car. Don’t take a cab!” I kept the windows rolled down the entire ride, the biting wind making my eyes sting. When we got home, my daughter pulled out her crushed muffin and started scarfing it down. “Mommy, our school had a jump rope competition today. That’s why I got out two hours late.” “I won first place! I was just so hungry earlier, that’s why I…” I gently smoothed my daughter’s messy hair. “Chloe did amazing.” I took off my damp coat, washed my hands, and started cooking dinner. An hour later, Derek sent me a text. “I have to entertain a client tonight. Won’t be home for dinner.” I didn’t reply. After Chloe and I finished eating, I scraped the portion I had set aside for Derek straight into the trash can. I cleared the table, washed the dishes, gave Chloe a bath, tucked her into bed, and prepped her backpack for school the next day. By the time I finally lay down in bed, it was almost 10:00 PM. Derek texted again. “This client is a nightmare to deal with.” “But if we land this contract, it’ll cover the company’s losses from last year.” “Once this busy period is over, I’ll take you and Chloe to Disneyland this weekend.” I texted back: “Is Harper with you?” “Yeah. If she wasn’t here taking shots for me, I definitely wouldn’t be able to handle this guy.” I replied: “Drink less. Come home early. You still have to drop Chloe off at school tomorrow.” Two hours later, Derek texted: “I drank too much, can’t drive. I’m just going to crash at a hotel nearby tonight. Go to sleep.” I locked my phone screen. Three years ago, Harper joined his startup. Within three months, she went from an intern to Derek’s personal executive assistant. “Harper is highly capable. We need to keep her at the company.” “Harper lives really far away. It’s not safe for a girl to commute alone at night, I’ll drive her home.” “Harper sits in the passenger seat because it’s easier for us to discuss work.” …… I used to fight with Derek about it. I told him to fire her. He had just spread his arms, leaning back on the living room sofa. “I can’t. She is my right-hand woman in this business. I can’t function without her right now.” “Stop overthinking everything. Just stay home and take good care of the kid.” Derek said he couldn’t function without her. Derek and I were college sweethearts. On the first day of freshman year, we literally crashed into each other on the quad. I was about to snap at him, but when I looked up and saw his face, all my anger evaporated. It was love at first sight. I chased him for six months. On my birthday, he played his acoustic guitar and sang a love song just for me. He looked at me with such deep affection and leaned in to kiss me. We got married the day after graduation. Derek said he wanted to launch a startup. He wanted to give me a better future. He used the $15,000 his parents gave him to open a small studio. For two years, he practically lived in that studio day and night. He used the profits to put a down payment on a house for us. Then, Chloe was born. Derek held his daughter and promised he would treat her like a princess for the rest of her life. One night, he rested his head against my chest. “Babe, the company is in a critical growth phase. I need a luxury car to keep up appearances with investors. Could you…” I took the entire inheritance my dad left me and bought him that Mercedes. And then, Harper joined the company. I flipped my phone over. It was almost 2:00 AM. Go to sleep, I told myself. I have to drop Chloe off at school tomorrow. The next morning, on my way back from dropping Chloe off, I saw Derek’s latest Instagram post. “Nailed the contract! VIP Room at The Reserve tonight. Company dinner is on me!” Harper had commented with a playful, winking emoji. I sent Derek a text. “Company dinner? I want to come too.” The next second, my phone rang. “Nora, it’s not appropriate for you to come to a company dinner!” “I’m the boss’s wife. What’s inappropriate about it?” I went home and dug out my dusty makeup bag, applying a simple, clean look. I took off the faded jeans I wore every day. I tore through my entire closet, but I couldn’t find a single outfit suitable for a high-end restaurant. Forget it. I put the faded jeans back on. Derek and I arrived at the VIP room at the exact same time. He looked me up and down, didn’t say a word, and guided me to a seat in the far corner. The rest of the employees trickled in. Harper walked in wearing immaculate makeup, a tight mini skirt, and designer heels. She walked right up to Derek and sat in the empty chair directly between him and me. She placed her handbag on the table right next to my arm. I recognized it. It was the newest Chanel flap bag. It cost over $5,500. Derek raised his wine glass. “As soon as the new materials arrive, production starts! When this order is finalized, everyone gets a bonus!” Every face in the room lit up with smiles. Harper picked up her wine glass, but Derek gently stopped her wrist. “You worked too hard last night. I’ll take this drink for you.” The table immediately started teasing them. “Derek’s right! If Harper hadn’t held her liquor so well, we never would have closed the CEO!” “That’s our boss’s right-hand woman! Come on, let’s all toast to Harper!” Harper picked up a glass of warm water Derek had poured for her. “Oh, stop it. It was all for the company.” “Don’t flatter me too much, the food is getting cold. Let’s eat!” Our boss’s woman. Those words drilled into my ears. I looked up at Harper. Right on her collarbone, there was a very distinct, reddish-purple mark. I turned my head to look at Derek. The mark on his neck was even more obvious. Derek started peeling shrimp for Harper. One after another. Harper gave him a coquettish look. “Alright, Derek, that’s enough. I can’t eat anymore. Give some to Nora.” She scraped the shrimp from her plate onto mine. I didn’t touch them. Derek wiped the juice off his hands with a towel. “Nora, I thought you loved shrimp. Eat up.” Oh, so he still remembered. Derek had ordered this entire banquet. Out of dozens of dishes on the table, not a single one was something I actually liked. He had been hustling in the business world for years. He was a master at catering to people’s preferences and playing the social game. When it came to me, he just didn’t care to try. Right in front of me was a plate of Pineapple Glazed Chicken. It was sweet and tangy. Harper’s favorite. Harper picked up a large chunk of pineapple with her chopsticks and dropped it onto my plate. “Nora, you just focus on staying home, raising the kid, and enjoying a relaxing life. I’ll be here to share the corporate pressure with Derek.” Derek looked at her, his face practically glowing with the words, You really understand me. I am deathly allergic to pineapple. I used my chopsticks to pick the chunk up and set it on the tablecloth. Derek’s face instantly darkened. “In front of all these people, you’re really going to disrespect Harper like that?” “Pick it up and eat it.” “Did you forget I’m allergic to pineapple?” “What kind of pathetic excuse is that? I’ve never seen you have an allergic reaction in my life.” He picked up the piece of pineapple from the table and dropped it forcefully back onto my plate. “Eat it.” I ate it. A few minutes later, my face started burning up. I rushed to the bathroom, but no matter how hard I gagged, I couldn’t throw it up. My brother, Lucas, sent me a text. “I have a client who needs a used luxury car. He took one look at the specs for your Mercedes and wants it. Cash offer, ready to wire the funds today.” “Nora, is that punk treating you badly again?” The emotions I had suppressed for years suddenly shattered. I crouched on the bathroom tiles, covering my mouth to muffle my devastating sobs. I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, wiping away the cheap foundation that my tears had ruined. I don’t want the car anymore. And I don’t want the man anymore, either. That night, Derek came home and tossed a box of allergy medication onto the table. “You shouldn’t have gone tonight. You’re a stay-at-home mom. Going to a corporate dinner like that is just asking to be humiliated.” I stared at him with ice-cold eyes. “And who exactly did I become a stay-at-home mom for?” Derek’s tone softened. He walked up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. “Babe, I know taking care of the house these past few years has been exhausting for you.” “But it’s not easy for me either. I’m out there grinding every single day, and it’s all for you and Chloe.” I peeled his hands off my body. “Who you’re really doing it for… you know better than anyone.” Derek slammed the box of pills onto the table. Smack. “Why are you like this now?! Always acting crazy and paranoid.” He started packing a suitcase. “I have to travel for work for the next few days. Stay home and take care of the kid.” “Oh, and that loan your brother promised me for the raw materials? Why hasn’t it hit my account yet? Hustle him. I need that money urgently.” The front door slammed shut. Over the past few years, Derek constantly used “cash flow issues” as an excuse to borrow money from my brother. The first time, he said a client delayed a payment, and he’d pay Lucas back as soon as it cleared. The second time, he said they were expanding, and he needed seed money for a new department. He’d pay it back when the project was profitable. The third time, he said their equipment needed upgrading… Derek always told me, I’m working this hard for you. When your brother helps me, he’s helping you. I believed him. Every single time, I was the one who went to Lucas and begged for the money. This time, he said he needed to buy a massive batch of new materials. He asked for $100,000 without blinking. I texted Lucas and asked him to send me the ledger of every wire transfer he had ever sent to Derek. $15,000. $30,000. $40,000. $50,000… It added up to exactly $300,000. Derek had never paid back a single cent. He always said Later, When we make a profit, Soon… I saved the ledger screenshots to my camera roll. While I was cleaning the house, I found a crumpled receipt shoved in the back of a drawer. Chanel Boutique. $5,500. Dated February 5th. I remembered that day. It was right after Derek had borrowed $60,000 from my brother. He had told me the holidays were approaching and he absolutely had to pay his employees their end-of-year bonuses. I was the one who borrowed that money for him. I swore to my brother that Derek would pay him back this time. Instead, Derek turned around and bought Harper a $5,500 designer bag. I opened Harper’s Instagram. Her latest post was tagged in Cabo San Lucas. “Taking a few days to properly unwind.” The photo featured the back of a man looking out at the ocean. I recognized Derek’s shoulders instantly. I scrolled to the next post. “Wheels up to Cabo! First-class seats are so spacious.” The next one. “Year-end bonus picked out by the boss. Love it.” (A photo of the Chanel bag). Further down. “Business trip. The boss booked me a luxury suite.” “Women really need to focus on their careers! My salary just doubled!” “My commute was too long, so the boss rented a luxury apartment for me right next to the office! Ahhh, he’s so sweet!” …… I kept scrolling down, all the way to her very first post at the company. “First day at the new job. The boss is really nice.” A notification popped up from Chloe’s school group chat. “Parents, please submit the spring uniform and extracurricular activity fees. The total is $150.” After I paid the fee, my bank account balance was exactly $45. For years, Derek constantly told me the company was tight on cash, telling me to be frugal and save money. I listened to him. I stared blankly at my $45 balance. My phone rang. “Nora, where’s the car parked? I brought the buyer.” I looked at the Mercedes. Back then, I had paid $160,000 in cash for it. In three years, the number of times I had actually sat in this car could be counted on one hand. The buyer inspected it thoroughly and was thrilled. The agreed price was $100,000. He would wire the funds in three days. Three days later, Derek came home. There wasn’t a trace of fatigue on his face. But his mouth said otherwise. “Business trips are exhausting. I’ve been working to the bone.” “Alright, unpack my suitcase for me. I have to go to the office.” He shoved his luggage at me, turned around, and left. That afternoon, I went to his office. His private office door was locked from the inside. I could hear voices murmuring. It sounded like Harper. I knocked on the door. No one answered. I knocked again, and Derek’s impatient voice rang out. “Didn’t I say I was resting?! No one is allowed to knock during this hour!” I didn’t say a word. I just kept knocking. I heard frantic footsteps. The door clicked open. When Derek saw me, he froze. “What are you doing here?” “The office isn’t a place for you. Go home!” I said calmly: “Chloe left something in the car last time. I came to get the spare car keys so I can look for it.” I took two steps into the office. I saw a shadow cast on the wall from behind the large filing cabinet. Derek hurriedly pulled his keys out of his desk drawer. “Here, take them. Go find it, and bring the keys right back!” I took another two steps into the room. I saw a large, suspicious wet spot soaking into the leather of Derek’s executive chair. Derek nervously rubbed his nose. “Uh, I accidentally spilled some water earlier.” I kept walking further in, but Derek leaped in front of the filing cabinet to block my path. “Didn’t you say you needed to look for something?! Hurry up and go!” I stopped, holding the keys, and turned around. The moment the office door clicked shut behind me, the muffled sounds of passionate moaning that I had interrupted resumed. The buyer arrived with the money. $100,000, wired instantly. The second the money hit my account, I let out a massive sigh of relief. As for the depreciation loss, I considered it the idiot tax for being blind enough to love him. An hour later, Derek called me. “Did you find it?! Bring the keys back immediately, I have to go meet a client!” “And did you hustle your brother like I asked?! Why hasn’t the money hit my account yet?!” “If those materials don’t arrive, we can’t ship the product. The client is going to sue us for breach of contract!” “Nora, do you ever actually listen to a single word I say?!” I hung up the phone and texted Lucas. “The car is sold and done.” “The money he owes you? We’re making him spit every last penny of it out.” Derek called back immediately. “Nora, what the hell is wrong with you?! Did staying home and wiping a kid’s ass rot your brain?! Can you not understand basic English?!” “The entire company is waiting on these materials! If this contract goes up in flames, can you afford to take responsibility?!” I hung up on him again. Derek was panicking. “Nora, this is my final warning! Tell your brother to wire the money right now!” I declined the call. I watched as Derek stormed out of the office building, his face twisted in rage. Harper was trailing closely behind him. I was standing on the sidewalk waiting for them. I noticed that the wet stain on Derek’s slacks hadn’t dried yet. He marched up to me, furious. “What the hell are you playing at?!” “And your brother! He promised to wire the money on the 5th! It’s two days late! What is his problem?!” “Give me the keys! I need to go see my client right now!” “Where is the car?! It was literally parked right here!” His phone buzzed. It was a text from Lucas. When Derek opened it, he almost collapsed.

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My husband parked in my assigned spot again. The front of his SUV was angled sharply over the yellow line, obnoxiously taking up two spaces. This was the third time. I didn’t call him right away to come down to the garage and move it. Instead, I took a quick video and posted it on my Instagram Story. A second later, the new 22-year-old intern I was mentoring—a guy who bragged about having had eighteen ex-girlfriends—sent me a direct message: [Hey, based on my experience, this is super sketchy. If you still want to make it work with him, call him to come move it. If you’re done with him, march straight upstairs, open the bedroom door, and make sure your phone is recording.] My hands and feet went ice-cold. I went upstairs with my heart pounding in my throat, only to find my husband calmly sitting on the living room sofa, typing away on his laptop. I peeked into the bedroom. Nothing. No anomalies. I was just about to breathe a sigh of relief, thinking I was overreacting again. But when I looked back at him, my stomach dropped. The tie he was wearing when he left the house this morning wasn’t this red polka-dot one. Plus, he only ever worked in his home office… I placed my purse on the entryway console, swapped my heels for slippers, and tried to keep my voice steady. “You parked in my spot again.” “I got an urgent email from a client on my way back and had to revise a pitch deck. I parked in a rush. I was going to move it when you were close to home. Give me a minute to finish this, and I’ll head down.” Sterling’s tone was relaxed. He answered slowly, completely unbothered. “Don’t worry about it. I parked in visitor parking.” I suppressed my racing heartbeat and sat down on the armchair opposite him. “Why are you working in the living room?” “The desk lamp in the office is broken. The bulb kept flickering.” Sensing my gaze, Sterling stopped typing and looked up. “What’s wrong?” “Where’s your other tie?” He looked down, a sheepish, helpless smile crossing his face. “I had a lunch meeting with a client and spilled some coffee on it. You bought me that tie for our anniversary, so the second I got home, I rushed to hand-wash it.” He gave me a sweet, pleading look. “I was clumsy. Don’t be mad, okay?” I glanced toward the laundry room. Sure enough, a blue striped tie was hanging on the drying rack, dripping water onto the tiles. It all made sense. Every single piece of it made perfect sense. But my mind was a chaotic mess. I subconsciously started biting my thumbnail. “Have you been too tired lately?” I didn’t even notice Sterling getting up. He knelt in front of me, gently pulling my hand away from my mouth. He let out a soft sigh, pulled me into a hug, and rested his chin on the top of my head, gently patting my back. He knew. My anxiety was acting up again. “Come on.” “Where?” Sterling took my hand and led me into his home office. He flicked the switch on the desk lamp. It flashed twice and died. The desk was spotless. The trash can was empty. There were no suspicious traces anywhere. “Feel better now?” He held my shoulders, his voice incredibly soft and gentle. I nodded, then shook my head. I didn’t know. He didn’t get angry. He led me back to the sofa, went to the kitchen to pour a glass of warm water, and pulled a bottle of pills from the cabinet. Anti-anxiety medication. Prescribed by my psychiatrist three years ago. I had stopped taking them a long time ago, but he always kept a refill handy. He held two pills up to my lips. A violent surge of agitation boiled up inside me. I slapped his hand away. The water glass tipped over, splashing warm water all over his shirt. Sterling froze. A flash of utter exhaustion crossed his eyes. My breath hitched. But, true to form, he calmly picked up the glass, grabbed some paper towels to wipe the coffee table, and smiled as he ruffled my hair. “I’ll go make you some pasta.” I pulled my knees to my chest, curled up on the sofa, and watched his back as he moved around the kitchen. My eyes burned. I felt terribly guilty, but I couldn’t stop my brain from spiraling: Is Sterling cheating on me or not? Three years ago, I asked that exact question a thousand times. The answer was: No. But the process of proving it almost cost me half my life. And now? Was I going to torture him and myself all over again? I didn’t sleep a wink that night. I tossed and turned, analyzing his explanations about the parking spot and the tie until my head felt like it was splitting open. The next morning, Sterling left early. He left breakfast on the counter with a sticky note drawn with a smiley face. I didn’t touch a single bite. I stood in the laundry room, staring at the half-dry tie. I took it down and examined it. It was mostly clean, but on the back of the narrow end, right near the brand tag, there was a tiny, crusty white spot. Coffee stains are brown. Even if it didn’t wash out completely, it would be faint yellow. It wouldn’t be white. The tie was dripping wet yesterday, which meant he washed it in a frantic rush. But if it was just coffee, he could have tossed it in the hamper for the dry cleaners. Why was he so desperate to scrub it out by hand the second he walked through the door? Driven by some dark intuition, I lifted the tie to my nose. Beneath the heavy scent of laundry detergent, there was a faint, distinct smell… The sour-sweet scent of baby formula. Clutching that tie, the last thread of sanity in my brain snapped. I stumbled into the storage closet, digging through dusty cardboard boxes until I found it—the hidden nanny cam. When I finally found the perfect spot to mount it on Sterling’s bookshelf, I froze. There was already a sticky residue of double-sided tape right there. Left by me. Three years ago. My fingers were numb. My lips were numb. Three years later, and I had never actually been “cured”… But I wasn’t always this “sick.” Three years ago, Sterling was promoted to Department Director. He hired a new executive assistant. I didn’t think much of it until a friend who worked at his company sent me a photo from their corporate weekend retreat. It was taken secretly. Sterling was manning the barbecue grill, and standing right beside him was a woman with a low ponytail, gently using a tissue to wipe the sweat from his forehead. The body language was intimately blurred. [Penelope, do you know this new assistant?] my friend texted. I zoomed in on the photo and recognized the face. Rachel Dawson. Sterling’s college girlfriend. When we started dating, he didn’t hide his past. He was upfront about her, claiming she was his only serious ex. I was actually very calm at the time. That night, when Sterling came home, I placed the photo on the kitchen island. He didn’t hide it. He said Rachel had been working as a hotel waitress. He ran into her by chance, saw she was struggling, and since his department needed an assistant, he gave her the job. “Wiping the sweat was a lapse in boundaries on my part. I am so sorry.” His attitude was incredibly sincere. The very next day, he even brought Rachel to me so she could apologize in person. I accepted it. But a thorn remained in my heart. And that thorn finally drew blood the day I found a pair of black pantyhose shoved into the gap between his passenger seat and the center console. “Rachel’s pantyhose snagged and tore on our way to a major client pitch. It was a bad look for the company, so we stopped at a pharmacy and she changed in the car.” Sterling’s expression was perfectly normal. He explained it with infinite patience. He said Linda, the Finance Director, was also in the car with them. He said Rachel shoved the torn pair into the seat gap in a rush and forgot to throw them away. Linda actually vouched for him. She even sent me a voice memo confirming the story. But I didn’t believe it. I wanted to rip that thorn out completely. I stormed into his corporate office. When I pushed his door open, Rachel was pouring him a glass of water. I snatched the glass from her hand, threw the water directly in her face, and pointed at her nose, screaming that she was a homewrecking slut. Rachel didn’t say a word back. She just stood there and cried. The entire office floor watched me. That was the first time Sterling ever lost his temper with me. He slammed his schedule logs, GPS data, and sign-in sheets from the client pitch onto his desk. “The evidence is all right here! What more do you want from me?!” But I couldn’t hear reason. From that day on, I demanded he report his every move. What time did he leave? What time did he get to work? Who was he eating lunch with? What meeting was he in? If he didn’t answer my call within an hour, I would lose my mind and call him twenty times in a row. I installed cameras in our house. I hid a nanny cam in the study. I needed to watch his every single second at home. Everyone around us pitied him. “Sterling has it so rough.” “Rachel is a completely innocent victim in all this.” “Do you think his wife… has mental issues?” I knew what they were whispering. But I couldn’t stop. Until the day I forced him to personally process Rachel’s termination papers. Usually so mild-mannered, he finally snapped. He shattered a coffee mug against the wall and screamed something at me—I can’t even remember the words now. I only remember stepping backward, tripping over the leg of the coffee table, and falling hard onto the floor. Blood… so much blood pooled beneath me. It wasn’t until I woke up in the hospital bed that I found out I had been pregnant. Twelve weeks. The baby was gone. Strangely, the loss brought a terrifying wave of clarity. It was like a blistering fever had finally broken. The doctor said my massive emotional swings were likely exacerbated by pregnancy hormones, especially during the volatile first trimester. Sterling fell to his knees by my hospital bed. For the first time, he cried in front of me, gripping my hand like a lifeline. “Penelope, I surrender. It’s all my fault. I just don’t want you to get hurt anymore.” Rachel was fired. Sterling swore to God we would never have another crisis of trust. But my heart was a tangled mess of guilt and confusion. When I looked back at the cold, hard facts… had I been the one making a psychotic scene over nothing? I felt a deep, gnawing unwillingness to accept it, but I was too terrified to question it. Sterling didn’t cheat. Wasn’t that a good thing? I spent an entire year recovering. Therapy, anti-anxiety medications, rebuilding my life piece by piece to return to normal. Everyone comforted me, saying young couples go through dark phases, and once you get past them, it’s smooth sailing. But today, three years later, I was crouching in the study, staring blankly at the hidden camera in my hand. The green light was on. It was ready to record. I suddenly felt like I couldn’t breathe. Three years ago, this was the exact step that started my descent into madness. And now, I was standing at the exact same crossroads. Was the faint smell of baby formula on a necktie enough for me to drive myself insane a second time? I closed my eyes and rested my forehead against the edge of the bookshelf. The hard wood dug painfully into my skin. Two voices were going to war in my head. Penelope, how much longer is this nightmare going to last? I left work early and waited in the lobby of Sterling’s office building. When I saw him step out of the elevator, laughing and chatting with a few colleagues, I walked up to him. “Sterling.” He saw me, and his smile faltered for a fraction of a second. “Penny? What are you doing here?” “We haven’t had dinner together in a while. I came to pick you up.” I linked my arm through his and smiled at his coworkers. “Sorry to interrupt your post-work drinks. I’m stealing my husband for the night.” The coworkers exchanged subtle, awkward glances and politely laughed it off. One person looked down, avoiding my eyes entirely, while a younger guy instinctively took a half-step back, almost as if he were afraid of me. The memory of my hysterical meltdown in this exact building three years ago had probably become legendary office lore. Sterling said goodbye to his team, naturally wrapped his arm around my shoulder, and guided me toward the parking garage. At dinner, I asked casually, “Have you been busy lately? Did that project from last week wrap up?” “Yeah, we closed it. This week is mostly following up with new clients. A lot more networking dinners.” “Was Wednesday night a networking dinner too?” “Yeah. Took a client out to play golf.” I nodded, pretending to suddenly remember something. “Oh, right! I heard you had your assistant run to the grocery store for you? What did you have her buy?” Sterling’s chopsticks froze in mid-air. He set them down, looking at me, his tone dropping a few degrees. “When were you talking to my assistant?” “When I was waiting for you in the lobby today. The receptionist had her come out to keep me company.” “She’s a fresh grad. She doesn’t know anything,” he said, staring at me as if trying to confirm my mental state. I smiled. “Relax. I’m not a monster. I didn’t give her a hard time.” I looked down, poking at the food in my bowl but not eating it. “I just feel like… the distance between us is getting wider.” Silence stretched over the table for a few seconds. Sterling reached across the table, covering my hand with his. His thumb gently stroked my knuckles. “I’ve just been swamped with work lately. I’m sorry.” I shook my head and didn’t push further. When we got home that night, I told him I needed some space and insisted on sleeping in the guest room. Sterling stared at me for a long time but didn’t force the issue. I locked the guest room door, leaned against the headboard, and opened my phone. I stared at the screenshots of the store receipts over and over. That afternoon in the lobby, the young assistant had been terrified. She clearly knew my reputation, and her hands were literally shaking when she poured me a glass of water. I didn’t interrogate her. I just made small talk, casually slipping in: “I heard you’re always running errands for Sterling. Sounds exhausting.” The poor girl smiled in absolute relief, assuring me it was no trouble, and eagerly showed me screenshots of the grocery lists on her phone to prove it. I asked her to text me one of the screenshots and left it at that. Now, I zoomed in on the image, reading line by line. Bottled water, printer paper, manila folders, espresso pods… all perfectly normal office supplies. Teething biscuits, one box. Organic fruit puree pouches, two packs. I opened an app, searched the brand of the fruit puree, and scrolled through the reviews. Hundreds of moms posting photos, raving about how much their toddlers loved them, saying they bought them constantly. I stared at those reviews until my eyes burned dry. At noon the next day, I showed up at the reception desk of Sterling’s company holding an insulated lunch bag. When he walked out of a conference room and saw me, he visibly froze. Colleagues walking by recognized me. They sped up their pace, only whispering to each other once they were a safe distance away. “Why is that woman here again? Mr. Brooks has it so rough being married to her…” “It’s terrifying. Her need for control is psychotic.” Sterling frowned at the whispers. He grabbed my shoulders and quickly ushered me into his private office, shutting the door. “Why are you bringing me lunch in the middle of the workday? Aren’t you exhausted?” “I took the day off.” I placed the insulated bag on his desk and unzipped it. “Try the bento I made you.” He looked at me, the crease between his brows deepening. “Penny…” “Just open it and look.” He stared at me for a few seconds. Unable to talk me out of it, he popped the lid off the bento box. The moment the lid came off, he went rigid. “What is this?” Half a bowl of teething biscuits. Half a bowl of fruit puree. I smiled warmly. “Baby food.”

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I’m the kind of person who forgets where they came from the second they lay eyes on a dollar sign. The moment I found out I was a long-lost heiress to a fortune, I scrubbed my phone of all the discount shopping apps and unceremoniously dumped the broke “boy toy” I’d been keeping on a budget. He actually pulled out a fistful of crumpled, expired coupons, begging me not to go, pleading with me not to abandon him. But the “fake” heiress—the daughter who had taken my place—caught us in the act. She immediately spun a web of filthy lies to our newfound parents. “I saw them with my own eyes, locked in a disgusting embrace, his hands all over her. Who knows, she might already be carrying that trash’s mistake.” My parents were shaking with rage. They demanded I get on my knees and think about what I’d done to disgrace the family name. “You are an embarrassment. You will not be the one marrying into the Sterling family; we can’t risk you making a fool of us. Let Audrey go instead.” But I was terrified of being poor again. Panicking, I called my ex, begging him to come and kneel with me, to help me ask for forgiveness. “There’s strength in numbers. If we kneel together, maybe they’ll see how sorry I am.” “Then you can explain to them that nothing happened, that we’re innocent. Please, I’m begging you.” He looked hurt, but in the end, he knelt beside me. It lasted until the day of the engagement party, when the Sterling family’s crown prince was nowhere to be found. That’s when my parents finally really looked at who was kneeling beside me, and let out a collective, blood-curdling shriek. “Oh, good lord! Master Sterling, why on earth are you on your knees with this wild girl? Please, get up, we can’t possibly accept this!” Chapter 1 The second I was brought back to the Sterling estate, the media was all over us, cameras flashing like machine guns. “The Sterlings have had one son in three generations, a single heir to the throne. Now that the Vance family has found their other daughter, who gets the merger marriage?” “The Sterling Group is worth billions, and it’s all going to him. Last year, every financial mag rated him the bachelor most women want to marry. He was number one.” Audrey Vance bowed her head slightly, a blush creeping up her cheeks. “Master Sterling is indeed very impressive. We’ve met a few times at events. He’s actually very gentle, not arrogant at all.” The reporters went wild. “Miss Vance, you’ve met Master Sterling personally?” “Was it a private meeting?” Audrey just smiled, playing the silent, mysterious role. She stood next to me, wearing a perfectly tailored, pale pink designer suit, her hair styled to perfection. I looked down at myself. A five-dollar t-shirt from some discount site, and jeans that were washed so thin they were practically white. The press started whispering. “Is that the one they just found? Look how she’s cowering. Totally out of her league.” “Look at Audrey, though. That poise, that class. You can tell she was raised for this.” “This is why you don’t leave your kids to be raised by strangers. Look at this girl. Complete waste of potential.” Before I could even wrap my head around what was happening, my father took the podium. His face was a mask, completely emotionless. But the second he stood in front of the microphones, the room went dead silent. “Finding Sienna is a miracle for our family. However, this changes absolutely nothing regarding Audrey’s status here.” “I raised her myself. What is hers will remain hers.” Audrey cracked a small, triumphant smile, shooting me a look that was pure challenge. Father took another step forward, taking control of the narrative. “Regarding the Sterling marriage merger, no final decision has been made.” “The Sterlings are an old-money dynasty. The woman who marries into that family must be the absolute best our family has to offer. It’s entirely up to my daughters now.” The press went into another frenzy. “Mr. Vance, do you mean this is an open competition between them?” Father didn’t say another word, ushering us away from the podium. As Audrey and I walked down the final few steps side-by-side, her hand found mine. Her perfectly manicured nails dug deep into the back of my hand, her voice a poisonous whisper. “Sister, you can’t compete with me.” She dug her nails in deeper. I gasped at the sharp pain, trying to pull my hand away, but her grip was like iron. “Don’t move,” she hissed, the gentle, fake smile still plastered on her face for the cameras. “They’re still watching.” “If it weren’t for you, the Sterling deal would have been mine by now. Why couldn’t you have just died out there in the real world?” My eyes widened. I was about to push her off me. Then my phone exploded with a ringtone. “I’m bringing sexy back! Yeah! Those other boys don’t know how to act! Yeah!” It was Liam’s custom ringtone for himself. He’d set it, and it was the most embarrassingly loud thing on the planet. Everyone froze. Every single eye in the vicinity snapped toward me. My face was burning hot. I fumbled for my phone for what felt like an eternity before I finally managed to silence it. I glanced at the screen. Over 99 unread messages from him. [So you’re a big-shot rich girl now, too good for a broke loser like me, is that it?] [I’m coming to find you right now. You just wait.] Before I could react, Audrey snatched the phone right out of my hand. “Let me see who that is.” I was too slow. She was already holding the phone high out of my reach, dodging my attempts to grab it back. She looked down at the screen, her eyes going wide with mock horror. “Sister, who is this man? Why is he sending you such… graphic messages?” “Please tell me you weren’t doing something disgusting on the streets to survive.” The world seemed to hold its breath for one second before erupting into pure chaos. “What does that mean? Was she… working the streets?” “I heard her adoptive parents died years ago. How do you think she survived this long? Ugh, what a filthy thing.” Audrey’s face was a masterpiece of manufactured heartbreak. “Sienna, I know you were desperate, but you can’t sell your body.” “But now that you’re back, you’re a Vance. I will personally teach you everything you need to know about how this family behaves.” She turned to Father, her eyes brimming with tears, but her expression was steel. “Father, don’t you worry. I won’t let her embarrass this family ever again.” The whispering in the crowd grew louder. “Miss Audrey is so impressive. A true lady. It just proves that raising them yourself is always better.” “Tell me about it. Blood doesn’t mean anything if they’re ruined by the streets.” Father nodded, placing a comforting hand on Audrey’s shoulder. Before he could speak, his assistant rushed over, whispering urgently in his ear. Father’s eyes lit up instantly. “Young Master Sterling is back in town? Today? Since when?” The assistant whispered, “He just landed. He should be at the Sterling estate right now.” Father nodded, all the anger vanishing from his face. He looked at Audrey. “Audrey, get ready. We’re going to the Sterling estate.” Audrey looked up, unable to hide the absolute thrill in her eyes. “You’re taking me? But what about Sienna?” Father cast a dismissive glance in my direction. “She can go home and learn some manners. When she’s not an embarrassment to be around, maybe then she can leave the house.” The assistant walked over and handed me a small slip of paper. “Miss Sienna, this is the address to the main house. Please take a cab. The driver needs to take your father and Miss Audrey.” I looked down at the address. It was on the other side of town. Audrey’s voice was pure sugar, but her eyes were lethal. “By the time you walk home, Father and I should be getting back. Then we can all have dinner together as a family.” I just sighed, turning around and walking away from them. As I walked, I heard the telltale ring of a bicycle bell behind me. I didn’t turn around, just stepping to the side to let whoever it was pass. The bike didn’t pass, though. It skidded to a stop right next to me. Liam was sitting on the bike, his brow furrowed in annoyance. “No one’s giving you a ride home?” I was stunned to see him. “What are you doing here? I thought I told you we were done.” “They’re off to meet the Sterling heir. They don’t have time for me.” Liam was quiet for a few seconds, his expression unreadable. “Who said we were done? And why are they meeting that guy?” I cracked a bitter smile. “The whole merger-marriage thing. Everyone assumes Audrey is the one who’s going to marry him. They’re going to introduce them, let them ‘bond.’” Liam didn’t say anything, just staring at me for what felt like an eternity. “You don’t want to marry him? The Sterling heir. I hear he’s rich, and not terrible to look at.” “If you want that, I can make it happen. I can guarantee he’ll marry you.” I just rolled my eyes. “As if. I don’t want that. If I can just be a good little girl, my family name is enough to make sure I never starve again. Being married to that kind of money is just begging for a headache.” He cracked a small smile, patting the metal rack over his back wheel. “Come on. I’ll give you a lift.” Liam got me back to the Vance estate quickly. I was about to say thank you, when I noticed my father’s black Maybach was parked right outside the gates. How were they back already? I looked up. Audrey was standing on the second-story balcony. My stomach dropped. I tried to push Liam away. The next second, the front doors burst open and Audrey was racing down the steps, her shrill voice echoing. “Father! Mother! You have to see this!” I pushed Liam again, panicking. “Get out of here! Now!” He looked at me, confused, before getting back on his bike and pedaling away. Audrey ran right out the front door, just as Father and Mother hurried out behind her. Audrey threw herself at them, grabbing their hands. “I saw it! A man just brought her back! They were practically on top of each other! His hands were inside her clothes!” “Right here! In front of everyone! She was letting him feel her up!” Audrey bit her lip, pouring on the fake drama. “He was pinning her against the wall, and she had her arms around his neck, kissing him…” My jaw dropped. I was completely paralyzed. “That’s a lie! None of that happened!” Audrey wasn’t letting go. “Sister, I saw it with my own eyes. Why are you lying? It’s one thing to have those disgusting conversations on your phone, but now you’re bringing that trash right to our doorstep.” Father took a deep, shuddering breath, his chest heaving with fury. “Master Sterling hardly ever comes to town, but when we went to see him, he refused to even show his face.” “It’s obvious he doesn’t want anything to do with us. The second you show up, you bring your filthy behavior with you. The second you show up, you shame this family!” Audrey started talking again, playing the part of the supportive sister trying to help me “reform.” She said, “Sienna, just admit you’re wrong! This is your chance to change! Your body might be filthy, but your heart can still be clean! Don’t you worry, none of us will ever speak a word of this outside this family.” A wave of pure, exhausted hopelessness washed over me, climbing up from the ground and choking off my voice. I just hung my head, saying nothing. Father let out a cold, sharp snort that sounded like an icicle snapping. “From this moment on, you are kneeling in the back courtyard until you learn your lesson. You aren’t to leave this property. If you cause one more scene at the engagement party tomorrow, I will publicly disown you.” “Audrey will be the one marrying Sterling. It’s your own fault you’re useless.” Audrey, with fake tears in her eyes, came over and pulled me into a hug. When her mouth was right next to my ear, she whispered so softly only I could hear. “Who cares if you’re his biological daughter? They’re still giving me the best life has to offer.” “Sister, I’ll bring you some wedding cake from my engagement party tomorrow.” I knelt on the stone pavers of the back courtyard, the sharp edges digging painfully into my knees. I could still hear Father’s furious roars from inside the house, with Audrey constantly stoking the flames. “I think I might have seen her face in one of those disgusting trashy pop-up ads…” “You know, the ones for those kinds of sites… some woman was naked, the face was blurry, but it looked just like her.” She paused, then quickly added with a note of mock concern: “But I’m sure I’m wrong. Sister would never do something like that. They probably just look alike.” Mother let out a sharp gasp. Father’s roar grew deafening. “What? Are you serious?” “Once we survive this engagement party tomorrow, I’m sending her right back to whatever gutter she crawled out of.” My whole body went rigid. Sending me back? Audrey’s voice was choked with fake tears. “Father, please don’t. Sienna is young. Maybe she just made some bad choices. Please, give her one more chance.” The more she pretended to plead for me, the more furious Father became. “Give her a chance? That Sterling boy didn’t even show up today. He obviously heard rumors. If we keep her, she’s going to completely destroy our family name!” Mother sighed, her voice sounding exhausted. “Fine, fine. Stop fighting. Tomorrow is Audrey’s big day. Let’s not let this ruin it. We’ll figure out what to do after the engagement party.” Father was panting, his voice like ice. “Fine. Once Audrey is engaged tomorrow, I’m kicking her out. We do not keep shameless trash like that in this house.” A jolt went through me. I couldn’t just sit here and wait to be thrown out. I fumbled for my phone and texted Liam. [I’m being punished. Come here and kneel with me.] The other end was silent for a few seconds. Then a long string of question marks popped up. [???] [I have to kneel too?] I typed furiously. [None of this would have happened if it weren’t for you. I remembered we have security cameras on the front gate, but they’re not going to believe me if I explain it now.] [Just climb over the wall and kneel with me. When my parents are less angry, you can explain that we’re innocent, that you were just harassing me.] Silence on the other end for a long, long time. So long that I was sure he wasn’t going to reply. Then, my phone buzzed. [I’m here. Which wall?] I replied immediately. [Follow the wall around to the back. There’s a crooked tree. Climb up that and jump down.] A few minutes later, I heard the telltale rustle of the tree branches. Liam was sitting on top of the wall, checking the drop before jumping down. He sighed, walking over and kneeling right next to me. We knelt there all night. At some point, I must have fallen asleep. The next morning, I was jarred awake by the sound of furious shouting. I snapped my eyes open, realizing I was practically buried in Liam’s chest. He was kneeling up straight, one hand on the ground for balance, the other holding me gently so I wouldn’t collapse. His spine was like steel, like he was a statue. I scrambled up into a straight kneeling position. He glanced at me, his voice rough and incredibly raspy. “Finally awake?” The shouting outside was getting louder. “Master Sterling is here! And Master Sterling’s grandmother!” “Please! Right this way!” I strained my ears to listen. Father’s voice was laced with panic. “But Young Master Sterling? Why didn’t he come?” An older woman’s voice, surprisingly strong and commanding, carried a hint of helplessness. “That foolish grandson of mine. We have no idea where he ran off to today. He’s not answering his phone. We can’t find him anywhere. So it’s just us elders today. We wanted to come meet the future in-laws.” Audrey’s voice rose, pure, undiluted heartbreak. “How could this happen? Today is our engagement day.” The Sterling grandmother’s voice was a bit awkward. “Audrey, please don’t be upset. He’s been like this since he was a child. The more important the event, the more he loves to hide. When he’s done playing, he’ll come back.” Mother let out a dry, forced laugh. “Yes, yes. Young people. It’s normal.” The whole entourage was moving this way, the sounds of their footsteps and voices getting closer and closer. I shrunk my shoulders, wishing I could hide my face. The Sterling grandmother was squinting as she looked toward the courtyard. Father tried to block her view, clearing his throat. “Our… troublesome daughter we just took back is kneeling in there. We wouldn’t want her to offend your eyes.” The Sterling grandmother stared at me for a few seconds. Then her gaze fixed on Liam. She froze. And then, she blurted out: “Isn’t that the foolish boy right there? He got here earlier than we did.” Chapter 2 Audrey, who had been following behind, saw Liam too, and her eyes practically popped out of her head. She suddenly charged forward, pointing a trembling finger at Liam, her voice a shrill shriek. “It’s him! It’s him!” She spun around, shaking with rage and excitement. “Father! Mother! That is the man I saw clinging to her last night!” “I saw them with my own eyes, locked in a disgusting embrace at the front gate. His hands were inside her clothes, and they were kissing against the wall. This is the trash she was sleeping with!” She stopped, turning a watery gaze toward the Sterling grandmother, a perfect picture of concerned righteousness. “Sister is just so… shameless. I wanted to say something yesterday, but I was so worried it would ruin the engagement party, so I kept quiet. I had no idea this man would have the nerve to show up here today.” She wiped her tears, acting the part of the heartbroken but moral victim. The silence that followed was terrifying. Every single eye was fixed on the two of us. Audrey stood at the front of the crowd, her face practically glowing with triumph. The Sterling grandmother just looked at her. “Are you sure about that?” she asked. Audrey nodded violently, letting a few more tears escape. “Absolutely, grandmother. I saw it with my own eyes. They were… intimate.” The Sterling grandmother was silent for a few seconds. And then, she smiled. “Well, since they’ve already been intimate,” she said calmly, “then the only option is for Master Sterling’s engagement to be with Sienna.” The world went silent for a single, perfect second. The triumph on Audrey’s face frozen solid. “What… what?” Father was stunned. Mother just stood there, her mouth open, unable to form words. Audrey took two frantic steps forward, her voice cracking. “Grandmother, what are you saying? Give it to her? But she’s… she’s filthy.” She pointed a shaking finger at Liam. The Sterling grandmother looked at her, her smile absolutely serene. “Audrey, dear, do you know who this is?” Audrey just froze. The Sterling grandmother walked over and tapped Liam on the back of his head. “You foolish boy, aren’t you going to say something?” Liam rubbed his head, a corner of his mouth turning up slightly. “Grandmother.” Every ounce of color drained from Audrey’s face instantly. She staggered back, collapsing against Mother. “No way.”

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I’ve been married to Nolan Sterling for three years, yet everyone in our circle still firmly believes in his carefully crafted “single and available” persona. At the company’s annual success gala, his personal assistant sang a love song dedicated entirely to him. She even got down on one knee, delivering a deeply passionate confession of her love. I thought, surely, this was the moment he would finally announce our relationship to everyone. But instead, faced with the roaring encouragement of our colleagues, he simply offered a helpless, indulgent smile, nodded, and accepted Chloe’s confession. The cheers erupted like a tidal wave, each wave louder than the last. I stood in the shadows, my entire body trembling with a cold so deep it chilled my bones. Nolan’s gaze met mine across the room. His eyes carried a sharp, unmistakable warning. But this time, I didn’t pull him aside to demand an explanation like I usually did. I just stood there and clapped along with the rest of them. “Congratulations, Director Sterling. Congratulations, Chloe.” “Such a happy occasion! Doesn’t this mean the Director owes everyone here a round of drinks on his tab?” … The moment the words left my mouth, the crowd’s cheering grew even more frantic. Nolan’s brows knotted together. He shot me a covert, furious glare. But, trapped by the sheer enthusiasm of the crowd, he had no choice but to bite the bullet and pull out his black card, paying for a massive round of expensive champagne for everyone. When he finally made his way over to me, he waited until no one was looking, grabbed my arm, and dragged me into the breakroom. “Why are you joining in and making a scene? Do you have any idea how much money I just dropped buying drinks for this entire department?” “What kind of tantrum are you throwing now?” He genuinely believed my comments out there were just me being petty. I forced a bitter smile. I wanted to speak, but it felt like something was suffocating me, blocking my throat. I couldn’t force a single word out. I just let out a heavy sigh. “Nolan, we’ve been married for three years. You promised me.” “You promised that once your career stabilized, we would make our relationship public. What exactly are you doing right now? Are you cheating on me?” Nolan’s eyes had been darting toward the breakroom window, nervously checking if anyone was listening. Hearing my accusation, his head snapped back to me. “What kind of nonsense are you spewing?!” Realizing his voice had spiked, he forcibly swallowed his anger. “Harper, yes, I made a promise.” “But have you stopped to think about your mother? If I hadn’t been financially supporting her treatments, do you really think she’d still be alive today?” “I have to climb higher. I have to make more money. Otherwise, how many months of her medical bills do you think your pathetic little salary could cover?” Every single word he spat out hit my eardrums like a physical blow. “So you accept Chloe’s confession right in front of my face? What am I to you? I am your wife!” I growled, keeping my voice low but fierce. This only made Nolan angrier. “Can’t you be a little understanding?! If it weren’t for me these past few years, your mother would be dead and buried by now!” I had heard these exact words countless times over the years, but they had never ripped my heart apart quite like this. In Nolan’s eyes, our marriage, our home, our entire future… They would always, always be secondary to his ambition. And all of this was simply because Chloe was the CEO’s daughter. That was why he desperately maintained his single persona, while brazenly flirting with Chloe in front of the entire company. He was affectionate with her right in front of my eyes, yet he demanded that I be “understanding.” From the day we started dating to the day we got married, he had always been this intensely ambitious. After we got married, he even took control of all my bank accounts, insisting he manage our finances. As he worked harder and harder, and the money piled up, his heart grew colder and colder. Whenever we had an argument, he always, without fail, weaponized my terminally ill mother’s life against me. “Then give me back my bank cards. From today on, my mother doesn’t need a single cent from you…” My words were cut off by the sound of the breakroom door being pushed open. Chloe leaned against the doorframe, looking at Nolan and me with a surprised expression. Nolan immediately took a huge step away from me, acting as if nothing had just happened. “Oh, Manager Vance, you’re here too. I was looking everywhere for you guys. I thought something was wrong.” Chloe beamed a massive smile, walking over and naturally intertwining her fingers with Nolan’s. She affectionately pressed her cheek against his. “I’ve already told my parents about us. They want to meet you.” I could clearly see the flash of absolute ecstasy in Nolan’s eyes. He instinctively shot me a glance, then tightened his grip on Chloe’s hand. “Of course. I’m available whenever they are.” My hands, hanging loosely at my sides, clenched into tight fists. My nails dug deep into my palms; only the sharp, stinging pain kept me grounded in reality. Chloe walked over to me and shoved a thick, bulging envelope into my hands. She flashed a radiant, triumphant smile. “Manager Vance, you work so closely with Nolan and handle so much. Consider this a little bonus for all your hard work.” As soon as she finished speaking, Nolan gently pulled her away. Before he walked out the door, he didn’t even spare me a single glance. I was left completely alone in the breakroom. Outside, the celebration continued to rage. The notifications in the company group chat were exploding with congratulatory messages for the new couple. I looked down at the hidden photo album on my phone. It was a scan of our official marriage certificate photo. He had forbidden me from using it as my lock screen, so I could only hide it deep in my camera roll. Every time I looked at it, I somehow convinced myself I could hold on a little longer. I stared at that photo with its bright red background for a very long time. Then, I uploaded it directly to the company’s internal message board. I had endured this for three years. I had absolutely no strength left to keep pretending. It took exactly one day for that photo to circulate to every single screen in the building. When I walked into the office, the way my coworkers looked at me was entirely different. The relentless, hushed whispers drifted into my ears from every direction. [What the hell is going on? Manager Vance and Director Sterling are married?] [Then what was all that yesterday? Chloe is the other woman…?] Some of the bolder employees walked right up to my desk and asked me directly. “Manager Vance, you never mentioned you were married. Is that photo photoshopped?” Before I could even open my mouth to answer, Nolan summoned me into his private office. The moment the door clicked shut. A splash of scalding hot water was thrown directly into my face. Nolan’s face was twisted with absolute fury. He violently smashed the glass mug onto the floor right at my feet. The flying shards of glass sliced a shallow cut near the corner of my eye. Drops of blood hit the floor. “Harper, are you intentionally trying to ruin me?!” “Didn’t I explicitly tell you that absolutely no one could know about our marriage?! The entire company is gossiping about it right now!” “Did you even stop for one second to think about how this would affect Chloe?! Everyone out there is calling her a homewrecker!” I wiped my face. The skin where the boiling water had hit was searing red. “I just posted the truth. Is telling the truth a crime?” I didn’t feel I had done anything wrong. “Are you afraid of losing face, or are you just terrified of ruining your perfect image in Chloe’s eyes?” “Does the CEO’s precious daughter know she’s sleeping with a married man?” Nolan’s lips parted, a flash of undeniable guilt crossing his eyes. He aggressively rubbed his temples, then, predictably, brought up my mother. “Don’t you dare forget that your half-dead mother is currently laying in the most expensive VIP suite at that care facility, being kept alive by the most expensive imported drugs.” “If I get suspended over this scandal, how the hell are you going to pay her medical bills?!” I let out a dry, exhausted chuckle. The fatigue weighing on my soul felt infinitely heavy. Always this. It’s always this. “Give me my bank cards back. I can pay my mother’s medical bills myself.” Nolan looked at me in shock, which was quickly replaced by utter contempt. He let out a mocking scoff. He marched over to his safe, pulled out a thick, heavy stack of hospital bills, and slammed them onto his desk. “You want to settle accounts with me? Fine! Let’s go through it line by line. Let’s see exactly how much money you and your mother have bled from me!” He stabbed his finger at the stack of bills, speaking through gritted teeth. Only then did I realize that from the day we got married until this exact moment, he had meticulously tracked every single penny he had spent on me. Three years ago, when he asked me to marry him, he had looked me in the eye and said: Your mother treated me like her own son. She saved my life once. I will give everything I have to help her. He did keep his word. But Nolan turned that help into a weapon to control me. Every time. Every single time. Whenever I did the slightest thing that displeased him, he weaponized my mother’s life against me, forcing me to surrender over and over again. He climbed higher and higher, eventually becoming the highly respected Director Sterling everyone admired. And then he told me: “Harper, my career is on a massive upward trajectory right now. I can’t let the executives know we’re married. It’ll ruin my image as a fully dedicated company man.” “You have to understand. Mom’s life is more important than anything else right now.” I believed him. I watched him meticulously build his “single, eligible bachelor” persona, while simultaneously getting closer and closer to his new assistant, Chloe. Whenever I confronted him about it, he would look at me with sheer impatience and say: “Chloe is the CEO’s daughter. She is going to inherit this entire corporation one day.” “I’m just trying to climb the ladder and secure our financial future. What exactly am I doing wrong?” The office door was violently shoved open. Chloe burst into the room, her eyes completely bloodshot. She held up her phone, the screen displaying our marriage photo, and screamed at Nolan. “Nolan Sterling! You lied to me?! Are you two actually married?!” Nolan didn’t miss a beat. He shook his head with absolute conviction. “No, I have always been single. Harper has already admitted she made a terrible mistake. She’s going to issue a public clarification right now.” His expression didn’t change as he pulled out his phone and opened a live security feed. The camera was pointed directly at my mother’s hospital bed. He lowered his voice into a vicious, lethal whisper. “The private nurse at the hospital works for me. If you don’t go out there and clarify this right now, I will order him to pull her oxygen tube.” My pupils dilated in sheer, unadulterated terror. I stared at him, unable to believe what I was hearing. “Nolan?! Have you lost your fucking mind?!” Nolan raised his hand, counting down on his fingers. “Three. Two…” “Fine.” I clenched my fists so tightly my nails drew blood. The agonizing, tearing pain in my chest was the only thing reminding me I was still alive. I stood in the center of the bullpen, facing the entire company, and confessed. “I photoshopped that image. Director Sterling and I have absolutely no romantic relationship whatsoever.” Because of my “confession,” Nolan was immediately reinstated and cleared of all suspicion, while I was indefinitely suspended pending an investigation. As I packed up my desk into a cardboard box, I could feel the malicious stares piercing my skin like needles. The hushed whispers had escalated into open, blatant verbal abuse. “I knew Harper was shady. She’s been acting so desperate for a sugar daddy lately.” “Exactly. Director Sterling always said he was single. How could he possibly be married to someone like her? She was clearly trying to force his hand and be the other woman.” “She’s so disgusting.” I bore the brunt of their malice, fleeing the corporate building like a cornered rat. When I finally got back to our apartment, my phone buzzed with a text from Nolan. [Harper, no matter what happens, we are still husband and wife. Once my promotion to VP is finalized, I’ll fix all of this, and I’ll cut ties with Chloe completely.] [Just wait a little longer. You have my word.] Staring at those empty promises, I realized I didn’t believe a single syllable anymore. I don’t know who did it, but someone had recorded a video of my forced confession and leaked it onto the internet. Overnight, I became the city’s biggest laughingstock. “Tarnishing the company’s reputation.” My suspension was quickly converted to a termination for cause. I didn’t even receive a severance package. The internet mob relentlessly attacked me, flooding my social media with vile, degrading insults. Some deranged vigilantes even tracked down my address and splashed red paint all over my front door. I was terrified to step outside. Every single day, people would gather outside my door and scream abuse. “You desperate, homewrecking slut! If you want money so badly, go find an old creep to pay you!” “People like you are the absolute scum of society!” No matter how I tried to defend myself, no one was willing to listen to the truth. I sat on the couch, completely hollowed out, scrolling mindlessly through Nolan’s Instagram. He had just posted a new carousel of photos. Aside from a series of romantic couples’ portraits with Chloe… There was a close-up shot of two hands, both wearing matching Cartier diamond rings. The diamonds caught the light flawlessly. The caption read: [The love of my life.] I covered my face with my hands, hot tears pouring through my fingers. I grabbed my heavy glass water bottle and hurled it violently at the massive framed wedding portrait hanging on the wall. The glass shattered, raining down in a thousand pieces. I took a deep, shuddering breath and dialed the number of a lawyer friend. “Draft divorce papers for me and Nolan Sterling. I want to completely maximize my financial settlement.” “He committed adultery. I have irrefutable proof.” During the days I spent finalizing the divorce strategy, Nolan never came home. He never even called. A week later, it was company payday. When I was terminated, HR had assured me that my final month’s base salary would be paid out normally. But when I checked my bank account, the only deposit was a pathetic $200 attendance bonus. At the exact same time, my former colleagues in the departmental group chat were throwing a digital party, celebrating Chloe for single-handedly closing a massive, highly lucrative corporate contract. I stared at the signature on the finalized project brief. A deafening ringing filled my ears. That was the contract I had literally drank myself into a stomach hemorrhage to secure during a brutal negotiation dinner. I was the one who had built the relationship with that client from the ground up. If that commission had paid out to me, I would have had enough money to cover my mother’s bills. I wouldn’t have needed Nolan’s money anymore. My hands shook violently as I tried to message the client, confused as to why they had signed early without me. But the message bounced back. The client had blocked my number. I called Nolan. The phone rang and rang, but he didn’t pick up. It wasn’t until my nineteenth call that the line finally connected. Before I could even speak, the sound of heavy, rhythmic breathing came through the speaker. Chloe’s voice, thick with annoyance, snapped at me. “Harper, you’ve been fired. Could you stop harassing my boyfriend?” “Can’t you take a hint?” I instinctively slammed the ‘End Call’ button. But those repulsive, wet sounds kept echoing in my brain. The hand holding my phone was trembling uncontrollably. A sharp, piercing agony radiated from my heart, spreading through my entire body like venom. But reality didn’t give me a single second to catch my breath. My phone rang again. This time, the caller ID showed the hospital. It rang relentlessly, sending me into a blind panic. “Hello…” “Ms. Vance, there has been a critical incident regarding your mother.” I don’t even remember how I made it to the hospital. The attending physician met me with a terrifyingly grim expression. “When our nurses did their rounds, they discovered that your mother’s oxygen supply had been disconnected.” “We investigated immediately. The private nurse hired by your husband admitted to doing it. He stated that he was acting under your husband’s direct orders.” The doctor forwarded an audio recording to my phone. “Your mother’s condition is extremely critical. She’s been moved to the emergency surgical wing and requires an immediate, high-risk operation to stabilize her.” “However… there are insufficient funds in her account to proceed…” The doctor’s voice was heavy with profound regret. I tapped play on the audio file. It was unequivocally Nolan’s voice. He said: “I’ve spent enough money keeping that old woman alive, and honestly, she’s tired too.” “Find a window when no one’s looking and pull the oxygen. Yeah, Harper agreed to it too. It’s what she wants.” The world tilted on its axis. My knees buckled, and I had to grip the edge of the doctor’s desk just to keep from collapsing onto the floor. “I… I never said that… I would never say that…” My voice was incredibly hoarse, tearing at my throat. The doctor’s eyes remained filled with deep pity. “Can’t you please just start the surgery? I’ll go get the money right now, I swear!” “Ms. Vance, I’m so sorry, but you have to understand our position. Hospital policy dictates…” I couldn’t lose my mother. I absolutely could not survive that kind of pain. She was the only family I had left in this world. After frantically signing the consent forms, I sprinted to the billing department. But the balance on my debit card wasn’t even enough to cover the anesthesia. My salary, my savings—it was all sitting in an account controlled entirely by Nolan. I texted Nolan over and over and over again. He didn’t reply to a single one. Gritting my teeth, I used a hospital landline to call his cell. Finally, the call connected. “Nolan, my mom needs emergency surgery right now! Transfer my salary to me, and my commission from the contract…” Before I could finish, Nolan replied with a slow, arrogant drawl. “Didn’t I just pay her facility bill last week? Why does she suddenly need emergency surgery?” “Stop making up these pathetic lies just to get my attention, okay?” I knew he wouldn’t believe me, so I took photos of the critical condition notice and the surgical authorization form and texted them to him. “She needs surgery because the nurse you hired pulled her oxygen! Nolan, you are responsible for this!” The line went dead silent for a moment. Perhaps a flicker of guilt finally hit him, because his tone lost its aggressive edge. “Got it.” He hung up the phone. I stared at the clock on the hospital wall, pacing the hallway in agonizing panic. But minute after minute ticked by, and the money never hit my account. My mother’s breathing grew weaker and weaker. They had already attempted to resuscitate her once, but the monitors showed she was still in the critical red zone. My phone screen lit up. I scrambled to open it, praying it was a bank notification. Instead, it was a photo from Chloe. A picture of her and Nolan lying in bed, their fingers tightly intertwined over the sheets. [So sorry, Harper! The money is going to have to wait a bit. Let us finish what we’re doing first, okay? 😉] It felt like I had been plunged into an icy abyss. At that exact moment, the life support machines in my mother’s room began blaring a frantic, continuous alarm. The crash team rushed in to resuscitate her again. But this time, there was no miracle. She stopped breathing. Her heartbeat flatlined. She was gone. The doctor walked out, removing his mask, and offered a grim, apologetic shake of his head. “I’m so sorry for your loss. We did everything we could.” Ding. My phone chimed with a bank transfer notification. I stared at the screen for a very, very long time, my mind completely detached from reality. The sheer absurdity of the world felt suffocating. The money had arrived. But my mother would never, ever need it again. “I sent the money. Now you and your mother need to behave and stop causing trouble.” “Harper, these next few days are critical for me. I’m meeting with the CEO and the board to negotiate my VP salary package and finalize the promotion.” “Once that’s done, I’ll come straight home. Just trust me one last time, okay?” A long string of voice notes arrived, his tone laced with that familiar, manipulative coaxing. I didn’t listen to the rest of them. Instead, I attached the finalized divorce settlement—the one demanding he leave the marriage with absolutely nothing—and sent the PDF directly to Nolan. “I don’t need it anymore, Nolan. We are done.”

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My best friend set her sights on the campus heartthrob at State U and stubbornly chased him for weeks. The guy didn’t even spare her a single glance. Feeling lonely in her one-sided pursuit, she pushed his best friend onto me—the resident sick girl. I pointed to my pale lips. “Bestie, do I really have to chase him?” She advised me with utmost sincerity: “Dating is good for your physical and mental health.” Later on, my best friend decided to give up the chase. So, I stopped chasing too. The heartthrob sent my best friend a text, his tone utterly exhausted: “I agree to be your boyfriend. Just tell your friend to take him off her blocked list. My dorm room is practically flooding with his tears.” Ever since my best friend, Chloe, took a class over at State U last month, she had been completely obsessed with their resident heartthrob, Liam Hunter. She made up her mind and chased him for weeks, but the guy wouldn’t even give her the time of day. Instead of giving up, she grew more determined, acting like she was possessed: “This is exactly the kind of man I want. If he’s too easy to get, I won’t cherish him later.” Because of my poor health, my parents rented an off-campus apartment for me. Chloe lived there with me. Around nine o’clock at night, a light drizzle started falling outside. Chloe came back carrying a bunch of shopping bags, looking absolutely furious. Kicking off her heels, she started complaining to me, “Damn it, this Liam guy is impenetrable! I specifically wore my killer dress to see him today, and he was completely immune. Like a celibate monk.” I pulled my eyes away from the movie playing on the TV and looked at Chloe in her red strapless evening gown. I said softly, “If he’s that hard to get, why don’t you look at someone else? It’s not like you have a shortage of guys chasing you.” “No, no.” She grabbed a soda from the fridge, sat down haphazardly, and took a swig. “Liam is different. He’s the only one who gives me butterflies. Plus…” She covered her mouth, smiling like a total creep. “His body is insane. I went to watch him play basketball last time, and those abs… that V-line… it’s straight out of a comic book. Kissing that would be a religious experience.” I went back to my movie, completely unable to understand people trapped in the web of love. “Hey!” She smiled slyly and nudged my shoulder. “Look at this picture.” She unlocked her phone, opened her camera roll, and shoved it in my face. I took it, confused. A guy appeared on the screen. He had a sharp, intense gaze, with rugged, highly aggressive facial features and piercing eyes. It looked like a photo she had secretly saved from Liam’s Instagram. “What about him?” “Bestie, do you like him?” Having grown up practically sharing a pair of pants with Chloe, the moment her brow twitched, I knew exactly what kind of nonsense she was plotting. I pointed to my own pale, anemic lips. “Bestie, do I have to chase him?” She blinked her sparkling eyes and grabbed my hands. “Avery, those two guys hang out together all day. Someone needs to separate them. Plus, chasing Liam all by myself is too lonely.” Chloe looked at me pitifully, pleading with utmost sincerity. “Just keep me company, please? The main point is, dating is good for your physical and mental health.” The movie was still playing in the background, the protagonist shouting: “I must be crazy to believe your nonsense!” The next second, my phone dinged. Chloe had AirDropped me the guy’s contact info. “Trust me, Avery, you have to try. He… looks a little intimidating, but he’s actually a really nice guy.” I sighed. “Fine.” “I love you to death!” She leaned in to kiss me, then suddenly remembered she still had her makeup on and hadn’t showered. “I’ll kiss you to death after I shower! Wait for me, babe!” Me: … While she was in the shower, I went to add him on iMessage, only to realize… I already had his number saved. Huh? I looked down at the guy’s contact photo. It was a picture of the Pokémon, Charizard. My own username was a bit nerdy—I went by “Sleepy Snorlax.” My profile picture was Snorlax. I just wanted to eat well, sleep well, and live a carefree life like the lazy Pokémon. The guy’s display name was “Caleb Hayes.” My finger hovered over the screen. I figured a guy who liked Pokémon couldn’t be a bad person. By the time Chloe came out, I had switched the movie to Spirited Away. I didn’t have many hobbies, but watching anime and movies was one of them. “Avery, did you add him?” She walked out drying her hair, wearing a silk slip nightgown. “Yeah.” I was engrossed in the anime, barely sparing a second to reply. Suddenly I remembered and scratched my head. “So, do I just announce to him that I’m going to pursue him?” “Hmm…” She thought about it. “Ask him if he likes anyone. If he says no, then you say, ‘Do you mind if I add myself to the list of people who like you?’” “Huh?” I looked at her with pure disgust. “That sounds so cheesy. Is this seriously how you hit on guys?” “There are too many complicated pickup artist tricks out there nowadays. A plain, unpretentious line like mine will make him think you’re pure and innocent. Do exactly as I say, you can’t go wrong.” “This tactic is called… courtesy before warfare.” Although I thought it was incredibly unreliable, I typed into the chat box: “Hi, do you have anyone you like right now?” After hitting send, I assumed it would take a long time to get a reply. I was just about to put my phone down to watch the anime. The next second, a message popped up: “?” “What if…” What if he just sends a question mark? Before I could ask Chloe out loud, he sent another message: “No.” I shuddered. Chloe leaned over my shoulder. “Girl, send what I taught you. I’m gonna go blow-dry my hair.” “Okay.” Caleb: “Why?” I typed: “Then do you mind if I add myself to the list of people who like you?” The moment I hit send, I tossed my phone away in sheer cringe. So gross. My phone stayed silent for a while, so I focused back on my anime. After Chloe finished drying her hair, she laid down next to me, picked up my phone, and asked, “How’d it go?” I answered honestly, “He didn’t reply.” She gritted her teeth in thought. I thought she was reflecting on her terrible pickup strategy, but instead, she said, “It’s fine, that’s normal. Liam didn’t reply to me at first either.” Me: … I wanted to tell her that it was probably because the line was so incredibly cringe-worthy that it shocked the guy into a coma. Chloe had a group project to work on, so she started aggressively editing a PowerPoint and a video. I casually picked up my phone, and the screen almost gave me a heart attack. By the way, Chloe had mentioned earlier that his name was Caleb Hayes. Caleb: “Um? What does that mean? I don’t just accept anyone’s feelings.” Caleb: “I’m not an easy guy.” Caleb: “Are you saying you like me?” After that text, there was a one-minute silence on his end. He was probably waiting for my reply, but I hadn’t seen it. Caleb: “Actually, I’m pretty easy. Are you trying to chase me?” Caleb: “I’m really easy to catch.” Another minute passed. He started panicking: “If you like me, let’s just get together right now.” Caleb: “I’m sorry, I was trying to act tough just now.” Caleb: “Did something happen? Can you reply when you see this?” Caleb: “It’s been ten seconds. Are you still busy?” Caleb: “I misspoke earlier. I should be the one chasing you. You don’t need to chase me. Can you please just reply?” Caleb: “I was wrong. I shouldn’t have acted so arrogant. Honestly, I was just too excited, so I asked my bro and he told me to reply like that.” Caleb: “He said if I agreed too quickly and made it too easy for you, you wouldn’t cherish me.” Caleb: “Baby, I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad.” Caleb: “Actually, baby, I’ve liked you for a long time, but I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t expect you to like me too.” … Me: “…” Chloe asked, “What’s wrong? Did he reply?” I pursed my lips, falling silent for a moment. I asked her, “When you chase someone, the other person is supposed to reject you first, right?” “Yes.” Then what the hell was happening right now? A flash of inspiration hit me. I typed: “Reject me.” That way, I’ll have a valid excuse to ‘chase’ him, and my bestie won’t be lonely. Caleb sent back a crying emoji: “Nooo, I don’t want to reject you.” “I was really wrong. I want to beat up the me from five minutes ago for trying to act cool.” “I shouldn’t have listened to my bro. I know I was wrong. You can hit me or yell at me, just please don’t abandon me.” Me: … “No, you reject me, and I will chase you.” Caleb didn’t reply as fast this time. The ‘typing…’ bubble stayed on the screen for a long time. After a while, he carefully sent: “Baby, is this some kind of roleplay kink?” “Promise me you won’t actually dump me.” “How long do you plan on chasing me? You have to tell me so I can mentally prepare myself.” I glanced at my best friend who was still battling her PowerPoint, and replied: “I don’t know yet.” “Then, baby, I reject you.” “That rejection is for the message above, not for you personally.” After seeing that, I could finally turn to Chloe and say, “He rejected me.” Chapter 2 Early the next morning, Chloe dragged me out of bed. “Avery, get up! Liam has a basketball game today, we have to go grab good seats!” I rubbed my sleepy eyes and glanced at my phone. It was 7:00 AM. “Isn’t the basketball game in the afternoon?” My voice was still hoarse from sleep. I breathed in a lungful of chilly morning air and couldn’t help coughing a few times. Chloe immediately got nervous, patting my back while pouring me a glass of warm water. “Oh, my precious fragile flower, take it easy. The game is in the afternoon, but if we go late, we’ll only get to stare at the backs of people’s heads. Besides, aren’t you officially starting your pursuit of Caleb Hayes today? Bringing him water is a mandatory basic operation!” I drank the water, suppressing the itch in my throat, and nodded helplessly. Honestly, I had absolutely no concept of what “chasing someone” meant. All I knew was that Chloe said we were doing it, so I kept her company. After washing up, Chloe picked out a cream-colored cardigan and a light blue floral dress for me. “My Avery is so gorgeous. This fragile, tragic beauty vibe… what man wouldn’t be completely mesmerized!” She pinched my cheek with satisfaction. I looked at my slightly pale complexion in the mirror and sighed. “I think I look more like a patient who just got discharged from the hospital.” When we arrived at the State U basketball court, it was already packed with people. Chloe dragged me through the crowd and forcibly squeezed out two spots in the front row. Not long after, the court erupted in deafening cheers. Liam Hunter and Caleb Hayes walked onto the court in their jerseys. Liam was wearing a white #7 jersey, his expression aloof, not even sparing a glance at the bleachers. Walking right beside him was Caleb, wearing a black #11 jersey. He was very tall, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. His muscle lines were smooth and packed with explosive power. That face really was exactly like the photo—highly aggressive, with deep-set eyes. When he wasn’t smiling, he looked fierce, like a wolf ready to bite someone’s head off. Chloe excitedly gripped my arm. “Avery, look! Your Caleb has a great body too!” I followed her gaze and accidentally locked eyes with Caleb. The moment that “fierce wolf” saw me, his footsteps abruptly halted. Then, under the watchful eyes of all the girls in the bleachers, his cold, tough face instantly turned beet red. His eyes darted around wildly, and he even stumbled forward awkwardly, almost crashing into Liam’s back. Liam turned around and looked at him like he was a complete idiot. Caleb hurriedly stood up straight, pretending nothing happened, but his eyes couldn’t stop drifting over to my section. Me: … This guy… doesn’t seem very bright. The game started. I had to admit, both Liam and Caleb were incredibly skilled. Especially Caleb. On the court, it was like he was a completely different person. His movements were swift and explosive, sinking three-pointers one after another, drawing endless screams from the crowd. It was just that, after every single shot he made, he would subconsciously look over at me. If I happened to be looking at him, he would instantly whip his head away, his ears so red they looked like they were bleeding. If I was looking somewhere else, he would act like a giant golden retriever desperate for its owner’s attention, even his dribbling looking somehow sulky. The halftime whistle blew. Chloe immediately grabbed a bottle of Gatorade, looking like a warrior charging into battle. “Avery, I’m going in! You go too!” I held a bottle of generic water and slowly stood up. Before I could even take a step, a towering dark shadow loomed over me. Caleb had somehow materialized right in front of me. His forehead was dripping with sweat, his chest heaving violently, radiating intense heat. The girls around us gasped, seemingly waiting for this “campus bad boy” to throw a temper tantrum. I looked up at him, just about to hand him the water and say the line Chloe taught me: “You worked hard.” Instead, Caleb suddenly pulled a warm thermos of jujube and goji berry tea out from behind his back like a magic trick and shoved it into my hands. “U-um…” he stammered, his voice so loud that the entire front row could hear him. “I heard your health isn’t great and you can’t drink cold water. Th-this is from my thermos, it’s the perfect temperature to drink.” Dead silence fell over the court. I stared blankly at the thermos in my hand, then at the cold water bottle in my other hand. “But,” I reminded him softly, “I’m supposed to be chasing you. I’m supposed to give you water.” Caleb snapped to his senses. The color on his face cycled from red to white, then back to red. He aggressively snatched the plastic water bottle out of my hand, twisted the cap off, and chugged half of it down. Then he practically shouted: “Yes! This water is amazing! I love it! Thank you for chasing me!” Me: … The surrounding students: … On the other side of the court, Chloe’s situation was much more depressing. She handed the Gatorade to Liam. Liam just gave it a cold glance, said, “No need, thanks,” and turned around to grab a bottle from his teammate. Chloe stood frozen with the sports drink, her eyes growing red. My heart squeezed. I was just about to go over and comfort her when Caleb suddenly leaned down and whispered in my ear. “Baby, how did I do? Did that feel like a good chasing experience?” I looked into his bright, expectant eyes, temporarily speechless. “…It was pretty good.” He immediately smiled like a kid who just got a piece of candy, revealing a small canine tooth. His fierce facial features instantly melted into something incredibly soft. “So when do you plan on officially catching me?” he asked carefully. I answered honestly, “Let’s see when my best friend catches Liam.” Caleb’s smile froze on his face. He slowly turned his head, his gaze locking onto Liam, who was drinking water a few feet away. His eyes were dark and homicidal. Liam inexplicably shivered, looked back at Caleb, and frowned. After that basketball game, my “pursuit” officially began. Even though the process was completely different from what I imagined. According to Chloe’s grand plan, I was supposed to text Caleb “Good morning” every day and ask him if he wanted to grab breakfast. At 7:30 AM, I picked up my phone on time and typed: “Good morning, have you eaten breakfast yet?” Before I could hit send, Caleb’s messages exploded onto my screen like a machine gun.

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When Silas handed me the divorce papers, he actually reached out and tucked a stray, greasy lock of hair back behind my ear. With his gold-rimmed glasses and academic tweed jacket, he looked every bit the refined university professor. “Stella, I appreciate how hard you’ve worked these past few years to support us,” he said, his voice quiet and coated in that gentle condescension he used on freshmen. “But my days are spent in the lab dealing with complex equations and abstract theories. When I come home, I want to discuss literature, philosophy, art. Instead, you just want to talk about which customer stiffed us on a check or how the price of wholesale eggs went up twenty cents.” He sighed, shaking his head slightly. “Our souls are no longer in alignment. For both our sakes, we have to let go.” With that smooth, compassionate tone, he effectively erased ten years of my life. I walked out of our apartment in a daze and stepped right into the path of a speeding delivery truck. As I felt myself hitting the pavement, my vision blurring, I saw her. The young, artsy English major who did understand his soul. She was holding an umbrella, smiling shyly as she walked toward him. Then, darkness. Chapter 1 I opened my eyes, gasping for air, and blinked against the harsh sunlight. I wasn’t on the asphalt. I was standing in the doorway of the greasy spoon diner on North Street that I had just signed the lease for. The calendar on the wall read: May 12, 1992. Silas was standing right in front of me, pinching the bridge of his nose, looking irritated. “Stella, honestly, running a diner isn’t dignified,” he said. “What if my colleagues from the university university see you? It’s embarrassing.” I looked at him—twenty years younger, just starting his tenure track, and already ashamed of the woman who bought his books. The visceral anger from my past life surged up, clean and sharp. I didn’t argue. I just ripped the dirty apron off from around my waist and threw it into the mop bucket. “You’re embarrassed? Fine,” I said coldly. “The courthouse is still open for another hour. Let’s go down there and file for divorce right now.” Silas froze. He stared at me, completely taken aback. In his mind, I was the high school dropout obsessed with him; there was no way I would ever leave him. He took a deep, controlling breath, repressing his anger and replacing it with that ‘pained intellectual’ look I knew so well. “Stella, you’re being completely unreasonable again. I’m just trying to have a rational discussion with you, and you immediately jump to ultimatums? Marriage isn’t a game. Don’t throw words like that around just because you’re throwing a tantrum.” “Who’s throwing a tantrum?” I turned my back on him and walked into the dusty restaurant. “I spent two years working double shifts in a cafeteria, saving every penny to rent this place. Who are you to tell me my hard work is embarrassing?” “Silas, your dignity is your problem, not mine. We’re getting a divorce today. If you don’t go, you’re a coward.” I felt sick just looking at him. I grabbed a rag and started viciously scrubbing the layers of grease off the old industrial stove. Silas stood in the doorway, his face flushing a deep, angry purple. A few pedestrians walking by stopped to stare. He was obsessed with his public image; he couldn’t stand being made a scene of in the street. “Fine, Stella. Have it your way.” His voice was clipped, cold enough to draw blood. “Don’t come crying to me later. You really think you can cut it out here on your own? Good luck.” He turned, hopped on his rusty ten-speed bicycle, and rode away without looking back. Early the next morning, I was waiting on the steps of the courthouse when they opened. Silas showed up in his best suit, clutching a leather briefcase as if to remind me of his superior status. He looked surprised that I actually showed up. The clerk handling the paperwork was a middle-aged woman with tired eyes and a massive coffee mug. She looked between the young, academic-looking man and me in my working clothes. “Are you sure about this, sweetie?” she asked me, trying to be helpful. “It’s a tough world out there. Maybe you two just need to talk?” Silas pushed up his glasses, his tone calm and patronizing. “It’s no use, ma’am. We just have different… intellectual wavelengths. We have different life pursuits. I am focused on academic contribution and mental development. She is entirely focused on profit and petty grievances. We are incompatible.” I slammed my ID and the marriage certificate on the table, cutting off his self-absorbed monologue. “That’s right. He’s focused on ‘mental development,’ yet he takes his whole paycheck to buy rare books in foreign languages, not bringing a single cent home for bills. Our rent, our food, everything was paid for by my double shifts in that cafeteria. I’m done supporting a moocher who complains about my cooking. Just stamp the papers.” The clerk’s eyes went wide. Silas’s face turned bright red. “Stella! How dare you speak such nonsense!” He completely lost his academic composure, his voice cracking as he shouted. I didn’t even give him a second glance. I just stared at the clerk. She didn’t ask another question. She stamped the papers with a satisfying thwack. As I picked up my copy of the divorce decree, I felt the crushing weight of two lifetimes finally shatter and fall off my shoulders. The air outside the courthouse smelled cleaner than it ever had before. “Are you satisfied now?” Silas hissed, walking close behind me. His tone was full of unearned charity. “There are four hundred dollars in the savings account. You can keep it as a settlement. I’m done with you. The university housing apartment is mine, obviously. You need to be moved out by tonight.” That four hundred dollars was money I had saved from working myself to the bone. And yet, he spoke as if handing me my own money was an act of grace. I let out a cold laugh. “Don’t worry, Silas. I won’t take a single thing that belongs to you.” I went back to that cramped university apartment. It only took me an hour to pack my few belongings. Silas was sitting on the sofa, flipping through a collection of poetry, pretending to be unbothered by the dissolution of his marriage. Then, there was a knock at the door. A young woman in a flowy sundress with her hair tied in a innocent ponytail stood outside, clutching a Tupperware container. “Professor Vance, I heard you weren’t feeling well, so I brought you some homemade chicken noodle soup.” It was Claire. She saw me holding my duffel bag and her eyes flickered with guilt for a split second before she plastered on a sweet, innocent smile. “Oh, hi, Stella. I was just… checking on Professor Vance.” Silas put down his poetry book and stood up, walking over to take the soup container from her hand. His voice was incredibly gentle when he spoke to her. “Thank you, Claire. This means a lot. Actually, I was hoping to discuss some translation theories with you. Come on in.” Soul resonance. I grabbed my bag and shoulder-checked Claire out of the doorway. “Excuse me. Don’t block the path.” Claire let out a dramatic gasp, stumbling weakly toward Silas. He caught her immediately, glaring at my retreating back. “Stella! You are a complete savage!” I didn’t look back as I walked down the stairs. Savage? Fine. In my last life, I was kind and devoted, and it ended with me dead in the street. In this life, I was going to be successful, rich, and happily drowning in money. After leaving the university housing, I moved directly into the back storage room of the diner. It was filthy and cramped, but it was wide enough. I could cook in the front and sleep in the back. I used my four hundred dollars to buy pots, pans, plates, and a few sturdy, second-hand wooden tables and chairs. 1992 was the year the economy was booming, and everyone was encouraged to start small businesses. The diner was located near a massive textile mill and a logistics hub that was currently under construction. The foot traffic was immense. But the only other food options around were expensive, sit-down restaurants with terrible service and bland food. I decided to do fast, cheap comfort food. Big portions, plenty of grease, lots of flavor—the kind of food that stuck to the ribs of men doing hard manual labor all day. The day before the grand opening, I went to the massive wholesale market on the south side of town to get supplies. Wholesale markets in the early 90s were chaotic, grimy places, full of mud, slush, and rotten produce. I needed to find reliable long-term suppliers for meat and spices. At a spice stall, I was locked in a heated debate with the owner over a price difference of fifty cents. “Look, pal,” I said, leaning over the counter. “These cinnamon sticks are old. The aroma is practically gone. If I buy in bulk, I’m giving you a dollar-twenty a pound, max. You asking for a dollar-seventy is treating me like an idiot.” The owner was a big, hulking guy. Seeing I was a young woman, he had assumed he could just bully me into paying. Now that I called him on the market price, he got defensive and waved his hand to dismiss me. “Get lost. If you don’t have the money, don’t buy. That’s the price. Take it or leave it.” “Actually, I agree with her. That batch isn’t worth a dollar-seventy.” A deep, commanding voice came from behind me. I turned around. Standing there was a man in a black leather jacket with a very short, military-style buzz cut. He was tall, nearly six-foot-two, with a sharp, piercing gaze. In this grimy, working-class wholesale market, he carried himself with an aura of authority that didn’t belong. He casually grabbed a handful of the cinnamon sticks and held them up to his nose. “They sat in humidity and were then redried. There’s no flavor left in them.” He looked coldly at the stall owner. “Lee, you need to run a honest business. You try to screw people over with garbage like this, and I’ll make sure you’re taken off the market’s approved vendor list.” The owner, Lee, went pale. He instantly morphed into a fawning, sniveling sycophant. “Oh, Mr. Pierce! I didn’t see you there! This is a complete misunderstanding, I swear! My employee must have put out the wrong sack.” The man ignored him and looked down at me. “You have a sharp eye for quality, ma’am. What kind of spices are you looking for? Go to the stall three rows over on the east side. Mention the name Grant Pierce. They’ll give you the wholesale price.” Grant Pierce. The name clicked immediately. In my past life, he was the biggest commercial real estate developer in the city, holding a monopoly on the entire Southside logistics network. Apparently, back in 1992, he was just starting out, running logistics for this wholesale market. I wasn’t going to refuse the help. I nodded at him. “Thank you, Mr. Pierce. My name is Stella. I’m opening a diner over on North Street near the factory. I imagine I’ll be sourcing a lot of goods from here.” He wasn’t overly polite, and he didn’t look down on me for being a woman in business. He just glanced at the detailed, disorganized list of items in my hand. “North Street is a high-traffic spot. Stella, I wish you luck with your opening.” Having secured low-cost, high-quality ingredients, I went back to the diner and spent the entire night simmering a massive pot of my grandmother’s secret BBQ sauce base. It was a recipe I had perfected over hundreds of trials in my past life. The smoke and spice aroma was so potent it drifted halfway down the block. The next morning, with a modest crackle of cheap fireworks at the door, “Stella’s North Street Diner” officially opened. I set up a glass display counter right at the front and filled it with massive trays of glinting, saucy ribs, pulled pork, and smoked sausage. The aroma immediately drew in the factory workers who were just finishing their night shift. “Hey, boss. How much for a plate?” “Two dollars, brother. Huge helping of pork, sides, and the coffee is free!” I yelled back over the din. I was wearing an old apron, my hair tied back, wielding a massive steel ladle. I was cutting meat, scooping rice, and pouring sauce at lightning speed. By 11:30 AM, the fifty portions I had prepared were completely sold out. In the evening, I offered spicy grilled chicken and steak tips, attracting all the long-haul truck drivers pulling into the logistics hub. By the end of the day, I was exhausted. My back ached, and my arms were sore. But as I sat under the single dim light bulb at the back of the kitchen counting the cash, smoothing out the crumpled single dollars and twenty-dollar bills in the metal tin… I realized I had made a net profit of thirty-five dollars. In 1992, that was nearly half a month’s salary for a factory worker. I carefully folded the money and tucked it into my bra. This was real security. Meanwhile, back at the university, Silas was probably hungry, debating the meaning of a poem with his “soulmate.” The diner’s business grew faster than I could have imagined. Because I used high-quality ingredients, served massive portions, and kept prices low, I captured the market perfectly. Within a month, I had to hire two women to help with prep and dishwashing. We set up a takeout window at the front for evening orders. I worked from dawn until late at night, barely stopping for a sip of water. But I felt more alive than I ever had before. My complexion was glowing, a stark contrast to the pale, depressed wife I used to be. One evening, right during the prime dinner rush, the diner was packed. I was standing in front of the open kitchen, working the grill, when I heard a voice that made my spine go cold. “This place is utterly disgusting. Look at the grease on the floor. I can’t even stand to walk in here.” I kept working the grill and looked over my shoulder. Silas and Claire were standing at the door. Claire was wearing a brand new sundress, holding a scented handkerchief to her nose, looking at the crowded, working-class clientele with utter disdain. Silas had bought himself a new suit. It looked expensive. He frowned as he scanned the room, his eyes finally landing on me. Seeing me in my stained apron, covered in sweat and grease, a look of arrogant pity flashed in his eyes. “Stella, look at yourself. Look at what you’ve become.” He walked through the crowded room, dodging a table of burly factory workers drinking beer, and stood right in front of my station. “Is this your revenge against me? Running a dive bar in a rough neighborhood just to embarrass me? How much profit are you even making, fifty cents a plate? Degrading yourself like this… is it worth it?” I finished plating an order of ribs and handed it to my waitress. I wiped the sweat from my brow with my shoulder and wiped my hands on my apron, staring at him with a amused smile. “Why, if it isn’t Professor Vance. Didn’t they have steamed vegetables and tofu at the faculty dining hall tonight? What are you doing in a ‘dive bar’? Experiencing how the other half lives?” Claire walked up and weakly grabbed Silas’s arm. “Stella, don’t misunderstand. Professor Vance just got a major grant from the university for his research, so we came out to celebrate.” “We were passing by, and Professor Vance felt nostalgic. He wanted to see if you were doing okay.” She extended her slender, pale fingers and adjusted the hair behind her ear. “Stella, your hands are completely chapped and covered in cuts. Oh, I feel so terrible for you. Unlike us who work with our minds and pens, manual labor is so incredibly hard on the body. You look exhausted.” It was blatant bragging disguised as sympathy. Ten years ago, I would have felt inferior, I would have cried. Now, I just found it funny. “If you’re here to celebrate, find a seat,” I said, pointing at the diner. I grabbed a pen and pad and slammed them on the nearest table. “Pulled pork sandwich is five dollars, ribs are ten. What can I get you?” At the mention of the prices, Silas’s face went pale. In 1992, five dollars was a lot of money for a sandwich. His salary, after buying his expensive foreign books, was minimal. He used to rely entirely on me to cover our living expenses. Now that I cut him off, where did he find the nerve to come here and order ribs? “Stella, are you insane? Five dollars for a sandwich? You are completely money-grubbing. That is armed robbery,” he hissed under his breath. “The prices are listed right there. If you can’t afford it, there’s a McDonald’s two blocks over. Their dollar menu is probably more your speed.” I didn’t hold back. Around us, several tables of customers stopped eating and turned to look. “Look at this guy in the suit,” a drunk trucker laughed loudly from a near table. “Comes in here with his girl, orders a sandwich, and then complains he can’t pay five bucks? Who is this loser?” The crowd burst into laughter. Silas’s face turned bright red. He could not handle public humiliation. He violently slammed his hand on the table, pointing a finger at my face. The mask of the refined professor was completely gone. “Stella Vance! You have become utterly grotesque!” “My colleague, Professor Davis, is on the city’s health and fire safety board! He oversees this entire district! You think your little greasy spoon is up to code? The sanitation in here is atrocious! Believe me, one phone call tomorrow and I will have your business license revoked, and you’ll be on a bus back to the sticks!” The diner went dead silent. Everyone knew you didn’t fight City Hall. Claire immediately started playing the peacemaker. “Stella, just apologize to Silas. He has a kind heart. Just admit you were wrong, and he won’t take away your livelihood.” They were completely certain that I had no choice but to bow down to them to survive.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “399954”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I had been married to Tristan Vance for three years, yet everyone around us still firmly believed his carefully crafted “single and available” persona. At the company’s annual celebration gala, his personal assistant sang a love song dedicated entirely to him. She even got down on one knee, delivering a deeply passionate confession of her love. I thought, surely, this was the moment he would finally announce our marriage to everyone. But instead, faced with the roaring encouragement of our colleagues, he simply offered a helpless, indulgent smile, nodded, and accepted Chloe’s confession. The cheers erupted like a tidal wave, each wave louder than the last. I stood in the shadows, my entire body trembling with a cold so deep it chilled my bones. Tristan’s gaze met mine across the room. His eyes carried a sharp, unmistakable warning. But this time, I didn’t pull him aside to demand an explanation like I usually did. I just stood there and clapped along with the rest of them. “Congratulations, Director Vance. Congratulations, Chloe.” “Such a happy occasion! Doesn’t this mean the Director owes everyone here a round of drinks on his tab?” … The moment the words left my mouth, the crowd’s cheering grew even more frantic. Tristan’s brows knotted together. He shot me a covert, furious glare. But, trapped by the sheer enthusiasm of the crowd, he had no choice but to bite the bullet and pull out his black card, paying for a massive round of expensive champagne for everyone. When he finally made his way over to me, he waited until no one was looking, grabbed my arm, and dragged me into the breakroom. “Why are you joining in and making a scene? Do you have any idea how much money I just dropped buying drinks for this entire department?” “What kind of tantrum are you throwing now?” He genuinely believed my comments out there were just me being petty. I forced a bitter smile. I wanted to speak, but it felt like something was suffocating me, blocking my throat. I couldn’t force a single word out. I just let out a heavy sigh. “Tristan, we’ve been married for three years. You promised me.” “You promised that once your career stabilized, we would make our relationship public. What exactly are you doing right now? Are you cheating on me?” Tristan’s eyes had been darting toward the breakroom window, nervously checking if anyone was listening. Hearing my accusation, his head snapped back to me. “What kind of nonsense are you spewing?!” Realizing his voice had spiked, he forcibly swallowed his anger. “Harper, yes, I made a promise.” “But have you stopped to think about your mother? If I hadn’t been financially supporting her treatments, do you really think she’d still be alive today?” “I have to climb higher. I have to make more money. Otherwise, how many months of her medical bills do you think your pathetic little salary could cover?” Every single word he spat out hit my eardrums like a physical blow. “So you accept Chloe’s confession right in front of my face? What am I to you? I am your wife!” I growled, keeping my voice low but fierce. This only made Tristan angrier. “Can’t you be a little understanding?! If it weren’t for me these past few years, your mother would be dead and buried by now!” I had heard these exact words countless times over the years, but they had never ripped my heart apart quite like this. In Tristan’s eyes, our marriage, our home, our entire future… They would always, always be secondary to his ambition. And all of this was simply because Chloe was the CEO’s daughter. That was why he desperately maintained his single persona, while brazenly flirting with Chloe in front of the entire company. He was affectionate with her right in front of my eyes, yet he demanded that I be “understanding.” From the day we started dating to the day we got married, he had always been this intensely ambitious. After we got married, he even took control of all my bank accounts, insisting he manage our finances. As he worked harder and harder, and the money piled up, his heart grew colder and colder. Whenever we had an argument, he always, without fail, weaponized my terminally ill mother’s life against me. “Then give me back my bank cards. From today on, my mother doesn’t need a single cent from you…” My words were cut off by the sound of the breakroom door being pushed open. Chloe leaned against the doorframe, looking at Tristan and me with a surprised expression. Tristan immediately took a huge step away from me, acting as if nothing had just happened. “Oh, Manager Harper, you’re here too. I was looking everywhere for you guys. I thought something was wrong.” Chloe beamed a massive smile, walking over and naturally intertwining her fingers with Tristan’s. She affectionately pressed her cheek against his. “I’ve already told my parents about us. They want to meet you.” I could clearly see the flash of absolute ecstasy in Tristan’s eyes. He instinctively shot me a glance, then tightened his grip on Chloe’s hand. “Of course. I’m available whenever they are.” My hands, hanging loosely at my sides, clenched into tight fists. My nails dug deep into my palms; only the sharp, stinging pain kept me grounded in reality. Chloe walked over to me and shoved a thick, bulging envelope into my hands. She flashed a radiant, triumphant smile. “Manager Harper, you work so closely with Tristan and handle so much. Consider this a little bonus for all your hard work.” As soon as she finished speaking, Tristan gently pulled her away. Before he walked out the door, he didn’t even spare me a single glance. I was left completely alone in the breakroom. Outside, the celebration continued to rage. The notifications in the company group chat were exploding with congratulatory messages for the new couple. I looked down at the hidden photo album on my phone. It was a scan of our official marriage certificate photo. He had forbidden me from using it as my lock screen, so I could only hide it deep in my camera roll. Every time I looked at it, I somehow convinced myself I could hold on a little longer. I stared at that photo with its bright red background for a very long time. Then, I uploaded it directly to the company’s internal message board. I had endured this for three years. I had absolutely no strength left to keep pretending. It took exactly one day for that photo to circulate to every single screen in the building. When I walked into the office, the way my coworkers looked at me was entirely different. The relentless, hushed whispers drifted into my ears from every direction. [What the hell is going on? Manager Harper and Director Vance are married?] [Then what was all that yesterday? Chloe is the other woman…?] Some of the bolder employees walked right up to my desk and asked me directly. “Manager Harper, you never mentioned you were married. Is that photo photoshopped?” Before I could even open my mouth to answer, Tristan summoned me into his private office. The moment the door clicked shut. A splash of scalding hot water was thrown directly into my face. Tristan’s face was twisted with absolute fury. He violently smashed the glass mug onto the floor right at my feet. The flying shards of glass sliced a shallow cut near the corner of my eye. Drops of blood hit the floor. “Harper, are you intentionally trying to ruin me?!” “Didn’t I explicitly tell you that absolutely no one could know about our marriage?! The entire company is gossiping about it right now!” “Did you even stop for one second to think about how this would affect Chloe?! Everyone out there is calling her a homewrecker!” I wiped my face. The skin where the boiling water had hit was searing red. “I just posted the truth. Is telling the truth a crime?” I didn’t feel I had done anything wrong. “Are you afraid of losing face, or are you just terrified of ruining your perfect image in Chloe’s eyes?” “Does the CEO’s precious daughter know she’s sleeping with a married man?” Tristan’s lips parted, a flash of undeniable guilt crossing his eyes. He aggressively rubbed his temples, then, predictably, brought up my mother. “Don’t you dare forget that your half-dead mother is currently laying in the most expensive VIP suite at that care facility, being kept alive by the most expensive imported drugs.” “If I get suspended over this scandal, how the hell are you going to pay her medical bills?!” I let out a dry, exhausted chuckle. The fatigue weighing on my soul felt infinitely heavy. Always this. It’s always this. “Give me my bank cards back. I can pay my mother’s medical bills myself.” Tristan looked at me in shock, which was quickly replaced by utter contempt. He let out a mocking scoff. He marched over to his safe, pulled out a thick, heavy stack of hospital bills, and slammed them onto his desk. “You want to settle accounts with me? Fine! Let’s go through it line by line. Let’s see exactly how much money you and your mother have bled from me!” He stabbed his finger at the stack of bills, speaking through gritted teeth. Only then did I realize that from the day we got married until this exact moment, he had meticulously tracked every single penny he had spent on me. Three years ago, when he asked me to marry him, he had looked me in the eye and said: Your mother treated me like her own son. She saved my life once. I will give everything I have to help her. He did keep his word. But Tristan turned that help into a weapon to control me. Every time. Every single time. Whenever I did the slightest thing that displeased him, he weaponized my mother’s life against me, forcing me to surrender over and over again. He climbed higher and higher, eventually becoming the highly respected Director Vance everyone admired. And then he told me: “Harper, my career is on a massive upward trajectory right now. I can’t let the executives know we’re married. It’ll ruin my image as a fully dedicated company man.” “You have to understand. Mom’s life is more important than anything else right now.” I believed him. I watched him meticulously build his “single, eligible bachelor” persona, while simultaneously getting closer and closer to his new assistant, Chloe. Whenever I confronted him about it, he would look at me with sheer impatience and say: “Chloe is the CEO’s daughter. She is going to inherit this entire corporation one day.” “I’m just trying to climb the ladder and secure our financial future. What exactly am I doing wrong?” The office door was violently shoved open. Chloe burst into the room, her eyes completely bloodshot. She held up her phone, the screen displaying our marriage photo, and screamed at Tristan. “Tristan Vance! You lied to me?! Are you two actually married?!” Tristan didn’t miss a beat. He shook his head with absolute conviction. “No, I have always been single. Harper has already admitted she made a terrible mistake. She’s going to issue a public clarification right now.” His expression didn’t change as he pulled out his phone and opened a live security feed. The camera was pointed directly at my mother’s hospital bed. He lowered his voice into a vicious, lethal whisper. “The private nurse at the hospital works for me. If you don’t go out there and clarify this right now, I will order him to pull her oxygen tube.” My pupils dilated in sheer, unadulterated terror. I stared at him, unable to believe what I was hearing. “Tristan?! Have you lost your fucking mind?!” Tristan raised his hand, counting down on his fingers. “Three. Two…” “Fine.” I clenched my fists so tightly my nails drew blood. The agonizing, tearing pain in my chest was the only thing reminding me I was still alive. I stood in the center of the bullpen, facing the entire company, and confessed. “I photoshopped that image. Director Vance and I have absolutely no romantic relationship whatsoever.” Because of my “confession,” Tristan was immediately reinstated and cleared of all suspicion, while I was indefinitely suspended pending an investigation. As I packed up my desk into a cardboard box, I could feel the malicious stares piercing my skin like needles. The hushed whispers had escalated into open, blatant verbal abuse. “I knew Harper was shady. She’s been acting so desperate for a sugar daddy lately.” “Exactly. Director Vance always said he was single. How could he possibly be married to someone like her? She was clearly trying to force his hand and be the other woman.” “She’s so disgusting.” I bore the brunt of their malice, fleeing the corporate building like a cornered rat. When I finally got back to our apartment, my phone buzzed with a text from Tristan. [Harper, no matter what happens, we are still husband and wife. Once my promotion to VP is finalized, I’ll fix all of this, and I’ll cut ties with Chloe completely.] [Just wait a little longer. You have my word.] Staring at those empty promises, I realized I didn’t believe a single syllable anymore. I don’t know who did it, but someone had recorded a video of my forced confession and leaked it onto the internet. Overnight, I became the city’s biggest laughingstock. “Tarnishing the company’s reputation.” My suspension was quickly converted to a termination for cause. I didn’t even receive a severance package. The internet mob relentlessly attacked me, flooding my social media with vile, degrading insults. Some deranged vigilantes even tracked down my address and splashed red paint all over my front door. I was terrified to step outside. Every single day, people would gather outside my door and scream abuse. “You desperate, homewrecking slut! If you want money so badly, go find an old creep to pay you!” “People like you are the absolute scum of society!” No matter how I tried to defend myself, no one was willing to listen to the truth. I sat on the couch, completely hollowed out, scrolling mindlessly through Tristan’s Instagram. He had just posted a new carousel of photos. Aside from a series of romantic couples’ portraits with Chloe… There was a close-up shot of two hands, both wearing matching Cartier diamond rings. The diamonds caught the light flawlessly. The caption read: [The love of my life.] I covered my face with my hands, hot tears pouring through my fingers. I grabbed my heavy glass water bottle and hurled it violently at the massive framed wedding portrait hanging on the wall. The glass shattered, raining down in a thousand pieces. I took a deep, shuddering breath and dialed the number of a lawyer friend. “Draft divorce papers for me and Tristan Vance. I want to completely maximize my financial settlement.” “He committed adultery. I have irrefutable proof.” During the days I spent finalizing the divorce strategy, Tristan never came home. He never even called. A week later, it was company payday. When I was terminated, HR had assured me that my final month’s base salary would be paid out normally. But when I checked my bank account, the only deposit was a pathetic $200 attendance bonus. At the exact same time, my former colleagues in the departmental group chat were throwing a digital party, celebrating Chloe for single-handedly closing a massive, highly lucrative corporate contract. I stared at the signature on the finalized project brief. A deafening ringing filled my ears. That was the contract I had literally drank myself into a stomach hemorrhage to secure during a brutal negotiation dinner. I was the one who had built the relationship with that client from the ground up. If that commission had paid out to me, I would have had enough money to cover my mother’s bills. I wouldn’t have needed Tristan’s money anymore. My hands shook violently as I tried to message the client, confused as to why they had signed early without me. But the message bounced back. The client had blocked my number. I called Tristan. The phone rang and rang, but he didn’t pick up. It wasn’t until my nineteenth call that the line finally connected. Before I could even speak, the sound of heavy, rhythmic breathing came through the speaker. Chloe’s voice, thick with annoyance, snapped at me. “Harper, you’ve been fired. Could you stop harassing my boyfriend?” “Can’t you take a hint?” I instinctively slammed the ‘End Call’ button. But those repulsive, wet sounds kept echoing in my brain. The hand holding my phone was trembling uncontrollably. A sharp, piercing agony radiated from my heart, spreading through my entire body like venom. But reality didn’t give me a single second to catch my breath. My phone rang again. This time, the caller ID showed the hospital. It rang relentlessly, sending me into a blind panic. “Hello…” “Ms. Harper, there has been a critical incident regarding your mother.” Chapter 2 I don’t even remember how I made it to the hospital. The attending physician met me with a terrifyingly grim expression. “When our nurses did their rounds, they discovered that your mother’s oxygen supply had been disconnected.” “We investigated immediately. The private nurse hired by your husband admitted to doing it. He stated that he was acting under your husband’s direct orders.” The doctor forwarded an audio recording to my phone. “Your mother’s condition is extremely critical. She’s been moved to the emergency surgical wing and requires an immediate, high-risk operation to stabilize her.” “However… there are insufficient funds in her account to proceed…” The doctor’s voice was heavy with profound regret. I tapped play on the audio file. It was unequivocally Tristan’s voice. He said: “I’ve spent enough money keeping that old woman alive, and honestly, she’s tired too.” “Find a window when no one’s looking and pull the oxygen. Yeah, Harper agreed to it too. It’s what she wants.” The world tilted on its axis. My knees buckled, and I had to grip the edge of the doctor’s desk just to keep from collapsing onto the floor. “I… I never said that… I would never say that…” My voice was incredibly hoarse, tearing at my throat. The doctor’s eyes remained filled with deep pity. “Can’t you please just start the surgery? I’ll go get the money right now, I swear!” “Ms. Harper, I’m so sorry, but you have to understand our position. Hospital policy dictates…” I couldn’t lose my mother. I absolutely could not survive that kind of pain. She was the only family I had left in this world. After frantically signing the consent forms, I sprinted to the billing department. But the balance on my debit card wasn’t even enough to cover the anesthesia. My salary, my savings—it was all sitting in an account controlled entirely by Tristan. I texted Tristan over and over and over again. He didn’t reply to a single one. Gritting my teeth, I used a hospital landline to call his cell. Finally, the call connected. “Tristan, my mom needs emergency surgery right now! Transfer my salary to me, and my commission from the contract…” Before I could finish, Tristan replied with a slow, arrogant drawl. “Didn’t I just pay her facility bill last week? Why does she suddenly need emergency surgery?” “Stop making up these pathetic lies just to get my attention, okay?” I knew he wouldn’t believe me, so I took photos of the critical condition notice and the surgical authorization form and texted them to him. “She needs surgery because the nurse you hired pulled her oxygen! Tristan, you are responsible for this!” The line went dead silent for a moment. Perhaps a flicker of guilt finally hit him, because his tone lost its aggressive edge. “Got it.” He hung up the phone. I stared at the clock on the hospital wall, pacing the hallway in agonizing panic. But minute after minute ticked by, and the money never hit my account. My mother’s breathing grew weaker and weaker. They had already attempted to resuscitate her once, but the monitors showed she was still in the critical red zone. My phone screen lit up. I scrambled to open it, praying it was a bank notification. Instead, it was a photo from Chloe. A picture of her and Tristan lying in bed, their fingers tightly intertwined over the sheets. [So sorry, Harper! The money is going to have to wait a bit. Let us finish what we’re doing first, okay? 😉] It felt like I had been plunged into an icy abyss. At that exact moment, the life support machines in my mother’s room began blaring a frantic, continuous alarm. The crash team rushed in to resuscitate her again. But this time, there was no miracle. She stopped breathing. Her heartbeat flatlined. She was gone. The doctor walked out, removing his mask, and offered a grim, apologetic shake of his head. “I’m so sorry for your loss. We did everything we could.” Ding. My phone chimed with a bank transfer notification. I stared at the screen for a very, very long time, my mind completely detached from reality. The sheer absurdity of the world felt suffocating. The money had arrived. But my mother would never, ever need it again. “I sent the money. Now you and your mother need to behave and stop causing trouble.” “Harper, these next few days are critical for me. I’m meeting with the CEO and the board to negotiate my VP salary package and finalize the promotion.” “Once that’s done, I’ll come straight home. Just trust me one last time, okay?” A long string of voice notes arrived, his tone laced with that familiar, manipulative coaxing. I didn’t listen to the rest of them. Instead, I attached the finalized divorce settlement—the one demanding he leave the marriage with absolutely nothing—and sent the PDF directly to Tristan. “I don’t need it anymore, Tristan. We are done.” The call was abruptly disconnected, leaving only the harsh, rhythmic beep of a dead line. Tristan stared blankly at his slowly dimming phone screen. He still hadn’t fully processed what Harper meant by her last sentence. What does she mean, ‘we are done’? What the hell is she throwing a tantrum about now? A wave of inexplicable irritation washed over him. He simply couldn’t understand why Harper was always so dramatic, why she absolutely refused to understand him. Didn’t she know how insanely busy he was with work? He aggressively cracked his knuckles. Tristan genuinely didn’t believe he had done anything wrong. Being with Chloe was simply a strategic move to ensure he and Harper could live a better, wealthier life in the future. On the countless nights he actually felt a twinge of guilt, that was the exact lie he used to soothe his conscience. Tristan let out a heavy sigh, deciding not to dwell on it. He had already transferred the money, anyway. Harper could handle whatever it was herself. Just then, Chloe walked out of the en-suite bathroom, fully dressed and looking flawless. They had made plans today to officially meet her parents. That was the real reason Tristan hadn’t rushed to the hospital. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to impress the CEO. Besides, he didn’t even know if Harper’s emergency was real or just another ploy for attention. “Tristan, my parents are already at the restaurant. We need to hurry.” Chloe thoughtfully draped his tailored suit jacket over his shoulders. Her fingers lightly brushed against his neck, sending a subtle, intoxicating thrill through his body. Chloe was young, her family was obscenely wealthy, and she was the ultimate fast-track for his career. No matter how he looked at it, she was infinitely better than Harper. Even if Harper actually wanted a divorce… But the moment that thought surfaced, Tristan quickly squashed it. Prompted by Chloe’s reminder, Tristan snapped back to reality. “Alright, let’s go. We shouldn’t keep your parents waiting.” During the drive to the restaurant, an intense, unexplainable anxiety gnawed at Tristan’s gut. He convinced himself it was just pre-meeting jitters about facing Chloe’s intimidating parents. He desperately wanted to leave a flawless impression on them. They arrived at the exclusive, Michelin-starred restaurant shortly after. Tristan took a deep breath, forcing himself to project an aura of calm, collected confidence. Noticing his tension, Chloe slipped her hand into his and squeezed reassuringly. “Don’t worry. My parents are really sweet.” Tristan returned her smile. At the end of the day, he had already been married once. He had done the whole “meet the parents” routine before. He knew the drill. But the people waiting inside that private dining room were Chloe’s parents. The CEO of his company. Given the massive disparity in their backgrounds, it was impossible for Tristan not to feel a deep sense of dread. Walking into the private room, he immediately spotted Chloe’s parents. They were impeccably groomed and dressed in quiet luxury, looking nowhere near their actual fifties. Chloe looped her arm affectionately through Tristan’s. “Mom, Dad, this is Tristan.” Following Chloe’s lead, Tristan flashed a charismatic smile and respectfully greeted them. “Chloe talks about you all the time. You certainly look the part of a rising star.” Tristan had fully expected Chloe’s parents to be the stereotypical, overbearing billionaires who would look down their noses at him. To his surprise, they were incredibly warm and approachable. They showered him with compliments until he genuinely felt a bit embarrassed. “You know, we’ve been pushing Chloe to date and settle down for years, but she always refused.” “She always insisted on waiting for someone she truly loved. A month ago, we tried to set her up on a blind date, but she shot it down, saying she had finally found the one.” Chloe’s mother continued to praise Tristan, clearly exceptionally pleased with him. “If you two are truly compatible, we should lock down the engagement. Her father and I would finally have peace of mind.” The charismatic smile on Tristan’s face froze slightly. If he married Chloe right now, it would be blatant bigamy. It would inevitably be exposed, and he would be ruined. “Chloe and I are still young, and we’re both highly focused on elevating our careers right now…” “You can focus on your career after you’re married! Our family is very modern; we wouldn’t force our son-in-law to be a stay-at-home husband.” Tristan had expected them to bring up their corporate empire, perhaps hint at the assets he would have access to, but they didn’t mention a single word about their wealth.

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On the day my mom was getting remarried, my future stepsister blocked the entrance to the County Clerk’s office, in front of everyone. “Before you go in, there’s something you need to sign,” she announced. “We need a prenuptial agreement notarizing that my dad’s pension and his house remain separate assets. What’s his stays his.” My mom looked at me, her eyes stinging with hurt and humiliation. I took a step forward, smiling coldly at the girl. “Sure, we can notarize an agreement. But before we settle up who owns what in the future, how about we settle up what’s already owed?” She froze, a look of confusion crossing her face. “Standard rate for a full-time live-in caregiver and housekeeper in this state is easily four thousand a month. My mom has taken care of your father for four years. That’s forty-eight months.” I pulled out my phone, calculator app open, and turned the screen toward her. “That comes to $192,000. Are you paying with cash, or do you need to set up a financing plan?” The air outside the downtown County Clerk’s office was bitter, making my face sting. I held my phone screen steady in the air, the number “$192,000” staring back with a cold glow. Tiffany stood on the top step, the hem of her expensive beige trench coat whipping in the wind. She clearly hadn’t expected me to counterattack. Her practiced smile faltered for a second, her gaze darting between me and the calculator screen, finally landing on my mother, Sarah. “Sarah,” Tiffany said, her tone softening, like she was coaxing a confused child. “Maya must be joking. We’re about to be family. Bringing up money just ruins the mood. I’m only doing this so everyone can have peace of mind later. Don’t you agree?” Having said her piece, she stepped aside, revealing the man standing behind her in a sleek charcoal suit. That was her boyfriend, Mark. He was a partner at a prominent downtown law firm. Right now, he was pushing up his wire-rimmed glasses, holding a thick legal folder, wore a mask of professional neutrality. “Sarah, here is the agreement,” Mark said, offering the document with the practiced grace of someone presenting exhibit A in court. “If you don’t have any objections, just sign here, and we can go inside and finish the paperwork. We don’t want to miss our appointment slot.” My mom stood frozen, her hands gripping the unfinished marriage license application so tightly the paper was beginning to crumple. She looked at Tiffany, then at Robert, her soon-to-be husband, who was standing with his head down, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. Mom’s lips moved, but no sound came out. Around us, other couples waiting to get licensed—some giddy with love, others looking miserable—had stopped to watch. A dozen pairs of eyes were fixed on us like spotlights. Robert finally lifted his head. His face, still somewhat sallow from years of health issues, was flushed with deep embarrassment. He coughed, clearing his throat, and reached out to tug at my mom’s sleeve. “Sarah… maybe… maybe just sign it? It’s just a formality, really.” My mom flinched. The light that had finally returned to her eyes after countless sleepless nights nursing this man back to health seemed to dim. She turned to look at me. That familiar, silent plea for help pierced through me like a needle. It was always like this. Whenever a conflict arose, her first instinct was to retreat, to endure, and then look at me to either fight her battles for her or suffer alongside her. I took a deep breath, shoved the phone back in my pocket, and took a decisive step forward, my heels clicking sharply against the concrete. I stared straight into Tiffany’s immaculate makeup. “Tiffany, if you think talking about money ruins the mood, then let’s talk about devotion. Do you honestly think this retirement account and this house were built solely by your dad over these last four years? Or did they just fall from the sky?” Tiffany frowned. “Maya, what are you implying?” “It’s simple.” I pointed at Robert. “For the past four years, whether this old man was living or dying, whether he could feed himself or needed to be cleaned up in bed, whether he needed hospitalization or complex surgery, my mother was the only one managing it. Where were you with ‘family peace of mind’ back then? Why didn’t you bring notarized documents to manage his care?” “That was Sarah’s choice!” Tiffany’s voice rose an octave. “Besides, they are in love!” “Right, love.” I smiled, turning my attention to Mark. “Well, Attorney Mark, since this is based on love, is this folder in your hand meant to protect that love, or is it meant to guard against a thief?” Mark’s professional composure crackled for a second. He took a step forward, shielding Tiffany, looking down at me. “Maya, legally, assets acquired before marriage are separate. Notarizing this is standard procedure for asset protection. As for your mother’s caregiving, that is considered a moral contribution, which the law does not quantify as a debt. If you are not comfortable with the arrangement, you can advise your mother not to proceed with the marriage.” That comment sent a ripple of whispers through the spectators. “That lawyer is ruthless.” “But he’s not wrong legally. For a second marriage, you have to protect your assets.” “That poor woman, four years of nursing for nothing?” My mom’s face went completely pale. The marriage application slipped from her fingers and fluttered to the ground. “Maya…” her voice was trembling as she grabbed my arm. “Don’t say another word. I’ll sign. I’ll sign, okay?” Tiffany smiled instantly. She pulled a sleek pen from her purse, unscrewed the cap, and offered it to my mom. “That’s the right decision, Sarah. Once you sign, we really are family.” I firmly clamped my hand over my mom’s extending arm. Her hand was ice cold. Her knuckles were enlarged from years of hard work, and there was a scar on the back of her hand from a hot kettle when she was making Robert’s herbal tea two days ago. “Mom.” I looked dead into her eyes. “Think about this. Signing this means you admit that the last four years of your life, all that devotion, was worth zero. From this day forward, in that house, you aren’t a wife; you are a live-in housekeeper who has to pay for her own groceries.” “Maya!” Robert suddenly bellowed, his face red with rage. “How dare you speak to your mother that way! Today is a celebration. Do you have to ruin everything just to embarrass us?” I turned to him. This man, whom my mom had waited on hand and foot for four years, was now glaring at me like I was his mortal enemy. “Robert, don’t worry.” I let go of my mom’s hand and pulled a pre-prepared folder from my purse. “Since Attorney Mark says the law doesn’t quantify moral contributions, let’s quantify them based on current agency rates.” I flipped open the first page and shoved it directly in front of Mark’s face. “2021: Robert was hospitalized with a stroke for 43 days. Private nurse rate: $250 per shift. Nighttime care surcharge: $100. Agency total: $15,000. My mom did it all.” “2022: Pneumonia hospitalization, 21 days. Specialized care rate: $300 a day. Total: $6,300. My mom did it all.” “2023: Vascular surgery. Post-op recovery period: three months. Needed assistance with bathing, feeding, and physical therapy. Private health aide rate: $3,000 a month. Total: $9,000. My mom did it all.” As I spoke, I began slamming the photocopied medical invoices and my mom’s handwritten care logs down on top of Mark’s expensive legal agreement. “And that’s just the medical events.” I flipped to the final summary page, pointing at the calculated total. “Then we have four years of groceries, cooking, laundry, and deep cleaning. Live-in housekeeping agency rate: $3,500 a month. Forty-eight months. Total: $168,000. Let’s round the whole thing off to a clean $190,000.” I looked up, meeting the icy stares of Tiffany and Mark. “Attorney Mark, you’re the professional. How do we categorize this debt? Is it a gift, or is it unjust enrichment?” Mark opened his mouth, but no words came out. He stopped, adjusting his glasses, a look of genuine discomfort crossing his face. Tiffany’s fake smile completely shattered. She violently slapped the folder out of my hand, sending papers flying across the concrete steps. “Maya! You are completely insane! You’re presenting this disgusting invoice now? To humiliate us? My father isn’t dead yet!” “It’s precisely because he isn’t dead that we can settle the account now.” I bent down, picking up a stray receipt, gently dusting it off. “Once he’s dead, it becomes a probate dispute, and that’s a much bigger headache.” “You—” Tiffany was shaking with rage. She turned to my mom. “Sarah, are you just going to stand there while your daughter curses my father? If you truly want to spend your life with him, aren’t you going to control your daughter?” My mom stood in the cold wind, her hair messy, covering half her face. She looked at the papers scattered on the ground—the documented proof of four years of her life’s blood. Then she looked at Robert, who had turned his head away, pretending to study the brickwork of the building. Silence. A deafening, absolute silence. Five full seconds passed before my mom finally moved. She bent down and began picking up the scattered papers, one by one. Tiffany thought she had won. Her lips began to curl into a smirk, until she heard my mom speak in a low, quiet voice: “Maya, can you… can you wait outside by the car for a minute?” I froze. It felt like an icicle had been driven through my heart. “Mom?” I stared at her, unable to believe what I was hearing. My mom didn’t look at me. She gathered the papers and stuffed them into my folder, then pushed it into my hands. The push wasn’t hard, but it was decisive. “This is between Robert and me,” she said. She wouldn’t look at me, and her voice was a hoarse whisper, but it landed like a hammer blow. “Go wait outside.” Tiffany laughed. It was a triumphant, cruel laugh, with no attempt to hide the mockery. “You heard her, right?” Tiffany raised her chin at me. “This is a family matter for the adults. The hired help should stay outside. Mark, give Sarah the pen.” Mark offered the pen again. I stood there, watching my mom take the pen. Her hand was shaking, but she lowered her head and signed her name on that agreement, legally validating four years of exploitation and ensuring more to come. In that moment, I realized I was the joke. I was standing on the steps of the County Clerk’s office, clutching my folder full of “invoices,” watching my mother sell herself out for the sake of “security” and what she called “love.” “Fine.” I closed the folder, slid it back into my purse, and forced my voice to remain steady. “I’ll wait in the car.” I turned and walked down the steps, refusing to look back. Behind me, I heard Tiffany’s sugary-sweet voice: “Oh, Sarah, that’s the right decision. Now we really are one family. Dad, shall we go in?” I walked to the sidewalk, pulled a pack of cigarettes from my purse, and lit one. My hand was shaking so badly it took three tries. The nicotine hit my lungs, dulling the urge to scream or cry. My phone rang. It was my best friend, Chloe. “Hey, how’d it go? Did that wicked stepsister give your mom any trouble?” Chloe’s loud voice blasted through the receiver. I exhaled a cloud of smoke, staring at the City Hall seal on the County Clerk’s building. “No trouble. They coordinated perfectly.” “What does that mean?” Chloe asked, getting anxious. “Sarah signed? The prenup?” “She signed.” I watched the lit end of my cigarette. “She didn’t just sign; she told me to leave.” “Holy shit!” Chloe cursed. “Is she brainwashed? What does that old guy even have besides that rundown house? Is she in love with his arthritis? His dentures?” “She’s in love with the idea of a family,” I said, tapping the ash onto the sidewalk. “She always believes that if she just endures enough, she can have a home.” “So what are you going to do?” Chloe asked. “Just watch?” I squinted, looking at the Clerk’s office entrance. Tiffany and Mark were escorting the old couple inside. Tiffany was clinging to Robert’s arm, smiling like a beauty queen, and my mom followed behind them, looking like a beaten-down servant. “Watch?” I threw the cigarette on the ground and crushed it with my heel. “We’re just getting started.” “What does that mean?” “Chloe, I need you to look up something for me.” I said into the phone. “Don’t you know the HOA manager for Robert’s neighborhood?” “Yeah, I do. Why?” “Get me a copy of all the records for his address.” I watched the glass doors slowly close behind them, and my heart turned to ice. “I need every single expense itemized for the last four years. Water, electric, heating oil, HOA fees, property taxes, any maintenance. I want every penny.” “What are you planning?” “I’m going to settle the account.” I opened my car door and sat inside. “Since they are so obsessed with separate assets and ‘fairness,’ I’m going to make sure we play by their rules. Perfectly.” After hanging up, I sat in the car for twenty minutes. I waited until I saw them come out. Everyone was holding an official-looking document. Tiffany’s smile was even bigger now, and she was taking a photo of the “happy couple” with her phone. Robert was grinning, showing all his wrinkles. My mom stood next to him, still forcing a smile, but her eyes were weary. I started the engine. I didn’t go over to say congratulations. I just dropped the gear into drive and sped out of the parking lot. Round one. I lost. I lost because I cared, and because I underestimated how deeply the fear of being alone ran in my mother’s veins. The wedding reception was small and simple, held at a diner in the old neighborhood. Tiffany hadn’t contributed a single dime. My mom had managed the entire event, rushing around for weeks. Mom did all the planning, sent the invitations, and handled the decorations. Robert just sat on the sofa, drinking coffee, occasionally offering helpful critiques like “The coffee at that diner is better” or “Don’t spend too much on flowers.” I didn’t help with the reception. I only showed up for the mandatory toasts. Tiffany walked over to my table with a champagne glass in hand, right in front of all the relatives, wearing a sweet, performative smile. “Maya, let’s put our misunderstandings in the past. Today is a celebration for my dad and your mom. Let’s have a drink and try to get along from now on.” She phrased it perfectly to make me look like the difficult child. I stood up, picked up my glass, but didn’t drink. I just stared at her. “Tiffany, you’re too kind. As long as my mom is happy, I’ll be happy to ‘get along.’” Tiffany’s smile twitched, but she managed a forced giggle. “Of course she’s happy. I’m her daughter now; I’m going to take care of her.” “Is that so?” I clinked my glass against hers. “I hope you mean that. Because I have an excellent memory, and I still have my calculator.” The smile instantly evaporated from Tiffany’s eyes, but given the audience, she could only swallow the champagne in silence. Three weeks into the marriage. I was at my desk reviewing a contract when my phone rang. It was my mom. “Maya…” she said, her voice cracking with tears. “Can you come over?” “What’s wrong?” I threw my pen down, my heart instantly racing. “Tiffany… Tiffany showed up with Mark, that lawyer. They want me to sign some kind of family agreement…” I could hear her sobbing on the other end. “And they want me to hand over my debit card for ‘centralized management’ of the household finances.” I almost laughed. It hadn’t even been a month, and the wolves were already at the door. “Don’t sign anything.” I grabbed my keys and ran out of my office. “Don’t say a word to them. Wait until I get there. I’m leaving right now.” I broke speed records getting to Robert’s house. I pushed open the door, and the tension in the living room was even worse than it had been outside the Clerk’s office. Tiffany and Mark were occupying the prime seats on the sofa, legal documents spread across the coffee table. Robert was sitting in his armchair, chain-smoking, the ashtray already full of cigarette butts. My mom was sitting on a kitchen chair in the corner, wiping her eyes. When I walked in, Tiffany just arched an eyebrow. “Well, the busy professional returns. Perfect timing. You work in legal, right? Maybe you can help Sarah understand.” I ignored her, walked straight over to my mom, pulled her off that wooden kitchen chair, and sat her down in the comfortable recliner. “Mom, sit here.” Then I took a seat on the coffee table opposite Tiffany and picked up this so-called “family agreement.” I scanned the first few pages and almost started laughing out loud. This wasn’t an agreement; it was an indentured servitude contract. Clause 1: All household income (pensions, social security, interest, and Sarah’s salary) will be managed exclusively by Tiffany Sterling. A monthly allowance will be issued for living expenses. Clause 2: Any personal expenditure over $100 requires approval three days in advance. Clause 3: All pre-marital savings must be disclosed and documented; no assets may be hidden. “Attorney Mark,” I said, dropping the contract on the table. “Did you draft this? Is your firm that slow that you’ve started specializing in the financial abuse of seniors?” Mark pushed up his glasses, maintaining his ‘elite professional’ facade. “Maya, please mind your language. This is standard procedure to protect aging parents from financial scams. Robert’s health is frail, so he isn’t suited to manage large sums, and Sarah has no experience with asset management or investing. Entrusting Tiffany to handle the financials is the most prudent decision for everyone.” “Prudent?” I scoffed. “Putting all the cash directly into Tiffany’s pockets is certainly prudent for her.” “Watch your mouth!” Tiffany slammed her hand on the table, standing up. “I don’t need their money! I’m trying to make sure they are secure! Besides, my dad already agreed, so what the hell are you doing interfering?” I turned to Robert. “Robert, did you agree to this?” Robert avoided my gaze, taking a deep drag on his cigarette. “Tiffany has good intentions… besides, Sarah and I are getting older, our minds aren’t what they used to be…” “Your mind seems sharp enough to protect your own interests.” I reached into my purse and pulled out a manila envelope, slamming it onto the coffee table. “Since you’re so obsessed with asset management and ‘security,’ let’s settle some pre-existing accounts first.”

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Everyone in Manhattan’s elite circles knows that Sterling Vance, the ruthless and bloodthirsty CEO of Vance Enterprises, fears absolutely nothing in this world—except for a single frown from his older sister, Evelyn. Rumor has it that during the vicious, bloody inheritance war against our half-siblings, I was the one who took the literal bullets and arrows for him, paving his way to the throne. He suffers from severe insomnia. He can only fall asleep if he breathes in the custom-blended, soothing essential oils that I personally mix for him. But no one knows the truth. All those bullying incidents and assassination attempts he faced back then? I orchestrated them from the shadows. There is absolutely nothing biologically wrong with Sterling’s body. I spiked his essential oils with an untraceable chemical compound, ensuring that he would experience brutal withdrawal symptoms without it. He could never, ever leave me. With my own hands, I tamed this vicious wolf pup into a loyal dog who only recognizes me as his master. After helping Sterling thoroughly secure absolute control over the conglomerate, I voluntarily requested a transfer to our European branch to expand our market. It was a three-year stint. When I returned to the States three years later, there was a new face by Sterling’s side: a female security consultant, freshly retired from an overseas private military contractor. This consultant didn’t care for haute couture; she preferred tactical camo. She spent her days lounging in the top-floor executive suite, calling Sterling “bro” and treating him like one of the guys. She even slept directly in his private executive lounge. The first time she met me, she clamped a cigarette between her teeth and scoffed. “You’re the boss’s sister, not his wife. Why are you sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong?” The entire socialite circle was watching, waiting for a joke. They assumed that I, the former shadow-ruler of the Vance family, had lost my power, and now any random stray dog could step on me. It’s a shame. They didn’t realize that my absolute favorite game is psychological warfare. Especially when dealing with the kind of woman who uses the “I’m just one of the guys” banner as an excuse to sleep with her “bro.” …… The grandfather clock outside the penthouse office struck 3:00 AM. I sat on the French velvet sofa, casually toying with a cold, metallic lighter in my hand. My executive assistant, Arthur, pushed the door open. Despite the freezing air conditioning in the hallway, his forehead was slick with cold sweat. “Ms. Vance, Mr. Vance is… sleeping at the office again tonight.” I picked up the black coffee in front of me and took a slow sip. “With Consultant Miller keeping him company?” Arthur lowered his head even further. “Yes. Consultant Miller said the security system is undergoing an upgrade, and there are a few vulnerabilities she needs to troubleshoot with Mr. Vance overnight. She… she also said that mercenaries like her aren’t picky, so she’d just crash on the sofa in Mr. Vance’s lounge.” I set my coffee cup down. The porcelain clinked against the glass coffee table with a dull thud. Arthur’s shoulders violently flinched. Roxy Miller. Lately, that name had been echoing like thunder through the halls of the Vance Building. A female bodyguard who had spent three years dodging bullets in overseas warzones. She signed a massive security contract with Vance Enterprises, but instead of staying in the five-star hotel suite the company provided, she squatted in the CEO’s office every single day. She perpetually wore cargo pants and sported a choppy wolf-cut. She never knocked before entering a room, claiming it was a “professional habit” from the warzone. And incredibly, Sterling allowed it. At that exact moment, the faint sound of a man and woman laughing drifted down the hall from the executive suite. I stood up, smoothing out the invisible wrinkles on my designer suit. “Let’s go. Time to deliver the CEO’s essential oils. His insomnia can’t handle a break from my medicine.” Arthur looked like he wanted to say something, but ultimately walked ahead of me and swiped his keycard to unlock the security doors. The door to the executive office wasn’t fully closed. As soon as I reached the threshold, the conversation inside drifted out with perfect clarity. “Sterling, have your abs shrunk lately? Men who sit in offices all day really lose their edge. Come on, feel my core. Hard as a rock, right?” It was Roxy’s voice. She purposely lowered her voice to a raspy, tomboyish pitch, trying to sound effortlessly cool. Then came Sterling’s low, resonant chuckle. “Consultant Miller is certainly hiding some impressive skills.” “Damn right! When I was running ops overseas, I slept in the same tent as six-foot-four, two-hundred-pound mercenaries. We took bullets for each other. We aren’t like those high-maintenance Manhattan princesses back home, rushing to the ER over a papercut. So pathetic.” I pushed the door open. The entire scene inside was laid bare before my eyes. Sterling was sitting behind his massive mahogany desk, reviewing financial reports. Roxy had half her body draped across the desk, one combat boot resting casually on the edge of the CEO’s leather chair. She was holding a greasy box of takeout fried chicken, her mouth smeared with oil. Draped over her shoulders was Sterling’s bespoke suit jacket. The oversized, tailored jacket hung loosely over her frame, revealing the tight black tank top she wore underneath. Seeing me enter, Roxy paused, then casually tossed a chicken bone into the trash can. She didn’t stand up. She just tilted her chin at me. “Well, look who it is. The Princess. Shouldn’t you be getting your beauty sleep? Coming to talk business with Sterling in the middle of the night?” Sterling looked up, his gaze landing immediately on the velvet box in my hand. “Evelyn.” I walked over, pulled the glass vial of essential oil from the box, and set it on the desk. “Time for your medicine.” Roxy reached out to grab the vial. “What kind of magic water is this? Let me get a whiff for Sterling. Rule of the squad: anything that goes in the mouth or nose has to pass security.” My face turned to ice. With a flick of my wrist, I smoothly dodged her hand. “Consultant Miller, this is prescription medication.” Roxy’s hand grasped empty air. She let out a dry, awkward laugh, then proceeded to wipe her greasy fingers directly onto the hem of Sterling’s suit jacket. “Don’t give me that attitude, Princess. I’m a straight shooter. I don’t understand all these passive-aggressive high-society mind games.” With that, she forcefully wedged herself onto the armrest of Sterling’s chair, throwing an arm casually around his shoulders. “Right, Sterling?” Sterling didn’t push her away. He just looked at me quietly, his dark eyes unreadable. “Evelyn, Roxy is wild. Try to be tolerant.” The following evening, the corporation hosted a private banquet at an exclusive club to formally welcome Roxy’s security team. I sat directly to Sterling’s right. Roxy had swapped her usual gear for a black leather jacket, sitting with her legs manspreading in the seat of honor to his left. After a few rounds of drinks, Jax stood up. He was Roxy’s second-in-command—a former rich kid adrenaline junkie who had followed Roxy overseas for a few years and now acted like he was enlightened and superior to the rest of the world. “Mr. Vance, if you ask me, the fact that our overseas branch survived this recent crisis is entirely thanks to Roxy. She might be a woman, but she’s more ruthless than most men. She’s a hundred times better than those fragile, delicate little rich girls who only know how to swipe credit cards and carry Birkin bags!” As Jax spoke, he shot a highly provocative glare directly at me. A few corporate security executives exchanged nervous glances, offering dry, awkward chuckles to appease him. Roxy picked up a whiskey decanter, downed half a pint of straight liquor in one breath, and heroically wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Jax, cut the bullshit. I just can’t stand those fake, dramatic ‘mean girls’. A woman should hold up her own sky. Spending all day getting plastic surgery and plotting to steal a man’s money? Pathetic.” She pushed her chair back and walked to the dartboard in the center of the private room. “Mr. Vance, just drinking is boring. How about I show everyone a little trick to liven things up?” Sterling leaned back in his chair and nodded. “Go ahead.” Roxy grabbed a handful of professional, steel-tipped darts from the table. Her movements were indeed sharp. However, with every single throw, the trajectory of the darts intentionally or unintentionally skimmed incredibly close to where I was sitting. For her final throw, she spun around with sudden, violent force. The steel tip of the dart slammed directly into the solid wood paneling right next to my ear. It was exactly three inches from my temple. The gust of wind it generated literally brushed the hair against my cheek. The private room fell into a deathly silence. Roxy clapped her hands together and burst into loud, obnoxious laughter. “Oh man! Did I scare you, Princess?! My bad, I’ve got a heavy hand. If I frightened you, I’ll take a penalty shot!” Her mouth was apologizing, but her eyes were brimming with malicious, triumphant satisfaction. I sat perfectly still in my chair. My eyelashes didn’t even tremble. “Consultant Miller’s hand-eye coordination is certainly impressive. It’s a shame her brain’s aim seems to be a little off.” Roxy’s face instantly stiffened. “What’s that supposed to mean, Princess? Looking down on us security grunts?” “I simply think that since you claim to be Mr. Vance’s ‘brother,’ you severely lack boundaries. Brandishing a lethal weapon at the Executive Vice President during an official corporate dinner? In any other company, you would already be sitting in a police interrogation room for reckless endangerment.” Roxy turned to look at Sterling, pouting her lips in a grotesque imitation of a wronged “bro.” “Sterling, look at your sister. I told you I was just a rough-around-the-edges grunt. I don’t know the rules. That was just a slip of the hand, I wasn’t targeting her. Does the Princess just hate my guts because she thinks I’m stealing her spotlight?” Sterling set down his wine glass. “Evelyn, Roxy had a bit too much to drink. It was just a joke.” I turned to look at Sterling. He avoided my gaze, tilting his chin at Roxy. “Go back to your seat.” Roxy shot me a smug, victorious eyebrow raise and turned to walk back. As she passed Jax, the two of them shared a knowing smile and violently high-fived. After the banquet ended, I intercepted Sterling in the underground VIP parking garage. “What do you really think of Roxy?” Sterling stopped walking, signaling for his bodyguards to step back. “What are you trying to say, Evelyn?” “Her intentions toward you aren’t clean.” Sterling let out a low chuckle, looking down to light a cigarette. “Is my sister jealous?” I stared at him. “I am simply reminding you that corporate secrets and personal safety leave zero room for crossed boundaries. She uses the ‘good bro’ excuse to get close, but her actions are becoming increasingly inappropriate.” Sterling’s fingers, holding the cigarette, reached out. He gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “You’re overthinking it, Evelyn. Roxy saved my life once. She’s a straight shooter, she doesn’t have any hidden agendas. Besides…” He lowered his head. His warm breath brushed against the side of my neck, his voice turning dark and husky. “I can only stand the scent of my sister.” I swatted his hand away. “I hope the CEO remembers what he said today.” Sterling stared at his empty hand, his eyes darkening. He didn’t argue. He simply pulled open the door of the Maybach and got in. Watching the taillights fade into the distance, my heart was filled with nothing but cold mockery. A straight shooter? If she were truly a straight shooter, she wouldn’t intentionally wear his suit in his office, and she wouldn’t try to publicly humiliate me at a corporate dinner. I had gotten bored of these pathetic, low-tier power plays back when I was a teenager surviving the Vance family inheritance wars. Half a month after Roxy integrated into the company, my custom-blended essential oil disappeared from Sterling’s desk. It was the one thing he absolutely required every single night. The formula belonged exclusively to me. It contained a highly addictive, incredibly difficult-to-extract compound. I pushed open the door to the executive suite. Before I even stepped inside, I was hit by the pungent, nauseating stench of cheap coffee mixed with synthetic air freshener. Inside, Roxy was directing the cleaning staff to throw the custom-built diffuser I had placed on Sterling’s desk straight into the trash. “Throw it out, throw it out! What is this girly, fragile nonsense? It gives me a massive headache.” I walked into the room, my heels clicking sharply against the floor. “Put it down.” The cleaning lady’s hands shook in terror. She looked at me helplessly. Roxy turned around, holding a cup of iced Americano. “Oh, look who it is. Perfect timing, Princess. I’m just helping Sterling clear out all this useless garbage.” “That is Mr. Vance’s sleep medication.” “Sleep medication? Looks more like a hypnotic poison to me.” Roxy swaggered over, swirling the ice in her plastic cup. “Princess, a man needs to have a man’s bloodlust. Breathing in these soft, fragile perfumes all day is grinding away all of Sterling’s wolf-like instincts. Overseas, when we can’t sleep, we chug black coffee and spar for two rounds! That’s what real men do!” I looked at her with eyes like ice. “He has severe clinical insomnia. If he stops his medication, his body will collapse.” “That’s just a bad habit you spoiled him into having!” Roxy raised her voice aggressively. “What insomnia? It’s just him being overly sensitive. Drag him to the boxing gym, let him go ten rounds until he’s dead on his feet, and I guarantee his head will hit the pillow and he’ll sleep like the dead. Sterling has just been crippled by a control freak like you.” Just then, Sterling walked out of his private lounge. He was wearing a white dress shirt, the collar unbuttoned. Underneath his eyes were heavy, bruised, dark circles. It was obvious he hadn’t slept at all last night. “What’s the yelling about?” I pointed at the diffuser in the trash can. “Sterling, Consultant Miller just threw away your medication.” Sterling frowned, looking at Roxy. Roxy immediately walked over and bumped her shoulder against his, playing the loyal comrade. “Sterling, I’m doing this for your own good. Smelling all those random chemical perfumes damages your nervous system. Look how pale you are—it’s because you lack physical exertion. Starting today, after work, I’m taking you to the gym to spar. I promise you’ll sleep like a log tonight.” Sterling rubbed his throbbing temples. “My head really has been killing me lately.” I stared at him. “Are you going to keep her ridiculous theory, or are you going to keep the essential oil?” Sterling fell silent. Roxy grabbed his sleeve and gave it a shake. “Sterling, just trust your bro this one time, okay? Would I ever hurt you? We’ve literally dodged bullets together.” Sterling lifted his head and looked at me. “Evelyn, Roxy means well. This medicine… stopping it for a few days to see what happens won’t hurt.” My hands, buried deep in the pockets of my trench coat, violently clenched into fists. My manicured nails dug so hard into my palms that they sent a sharp, piercing spike of pain through my hands. “You’ve made up your mind?” “Yeah. I want to try Roxy’s method.” Roxy shot me a smug, triumphant look, lifting her chin in victory. “Hear that? Lady, hurry up and throw that garbage out!” I looked at the empty, barren desk. The absolute last trace of lingering warmth in my heart completely froze over. “If that’s your decision, then I won’t interrupt Mr. Vance’s journey to reclaim his ‘manhood.’” I turned and walked out of the executive suite. Behind me, I could hear Roxy’s entirely undisguised voice. “Sterling, look at her face. It’s like someone owes her a billion dollars. It’s so much more relaxing when it’s just us bros hanging out, right?” Sterling didn’t answer. But I heard the sound of him grabbing his suit jacket off the chair. On the second subterranean level of the Vance Building was a private, state-of-the-art boxing gym built specifically for Sterling. Today, Jax was there too. Inside the octagon, Roxy and Sterling were sparring with heavy gloves. The hits were brutal and wet with sweat. During a break, Sterling sat by the edge of the cage. His thumb subconsciously rubbed the watch on his wrist. It was an antique Patek Philippe. When he turned eighteen, I used the very first bonus check I ever earned, scoured the antique markets of Europe, and bought it for him. He had worn it every single day since. He never took it off. I was walking past the gym on my way to the elevators, not intending to stop. “Princess!” Jax had sharp eyes and shouted loudly across the room. “Since you’re here, why don’t you come down and give us some pointers? Oh, wait, I forgot. You’re a refined intellectual. You can’t stand the sight of blood.” Roxy took out her mouthguard and wiped the sweat from her forehead. “Jax, don’t embarrass the Princess. She’s a hothouse flower. She’s never seen a real fight in her life. She probably wouldn’t even dare to kill a chicken.” The two of them bounced off each other, drawing low, muffled chuckles from the surrounding security team. Sterling leaned against the cage mesh, not uttering a single word to stop them. He just looked at me faintly from a distance. I stopped walking and stood on the staircase leading down. “I admit, I don’t understand the primitive ways barbarians vent their frustrations.” Roxy’s face instantly darkened. “Barbarians? Princess, this is called power! If we weren’t out there bleeding and risking our lives, how could you possibly sit comfortably in an air-conditioned office signing contracts?” Saying that, she violently vaulted over the top of the octagon cage, jumping to the floor outside. Her movements were too aggressive. As she landed, she slammed heavily into Sterling with a loud thud. “Oof!” Sterling’s wrist slipped. The clasp of the antique watch snapped open, and the timepiece flew off his wrist. The mechanical watch sailed through the air in an arc and slammed brutally onto the unforgiving concrete floor. A sharp, devastating CRACK echoed through the room. The crystal glass shattered. The intricate, delicate gears and cogs scattered violently across the ground. The air instantly froze. I stared at the scattered gears on the floor, my heart violently clenching. Sterling shot up from his seat. The atmospheric pressure around him instantly dropped to absolute zero. His face was terrifyingly dark. Roxy seemed startled for a second, but quickly shrugged it off with a look of total indifference. She walked over and casually kicked the shattered watch with the toe of her combat boot. “Whoops. It broke. My bad, Sterling, I couldn’t stop my momentum.” She looked up, acting as though it was completely trivial. “It’s just a busted old watch, right? I’ll deduct it from my commission and buy you the newest Rolex. It’ll look way cooler than this antique junk.” Sterling stared intensely at the shattered watch on the ground. His hands curled into tight fists, the veins on the back of his hands bulging threateningly. I looked at him, waiting for his reaction. Waiting for his apocalyptic, thunderous rage. However, Jax rushed over to run interference. “Mr. Vance, Roxy didn’t do it on purpose! Out with the old, in with the new, right? It’s just a watch. How could a watch compare to the bullet Roxy took for you in the rainforest?” Sterling’s fists tightened, relaxed, and tightened again. He closed his eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. When he opened his eyes again, the violent, murderous rage had been forcibly suppressed. “Forget it.” His voice was incredibly hoarse. “If it’s broken, it’s broken.” Roxy let out a massive sigh of relief. She walked over and familiarly slung her arm around Sterling’s neck. “That’s my guy! We’re real men, we don’t hold grudges over a piece of metal. Come on, let’s keep sparring!” I stood rooted to the spot, looking at the mechanical wreckage on the floor. I knew the game was over. Sterling turned his head and looked at me. In the depths of his pitch-black eyes, there was a flash of frantic struggle and panic. “Evelyn, you heard her. Roxy didn’t do it on purpose. Just go back to your office.” I slowly walked down the stairs. I bent down and, piece by piece, picked up the shattered watch face and the scattered gears. The edges of the broken glass were razor-sharp. It instantly sliced open my palm, beads of crimson blood welling up and rolling down my skin. But I couldn’t feel the pain. I only felt a bottomless, freezing cold that instantly spread from the soles of my feet to my very bones. “Sterling.” It was the first time I had ever called him by his full, first name. “Do you truly believe this is just a ‘busted old watch’?” Sterling awkwardly avoided my gaze. “I’m tired. Evelyn, just leave.” I gripped the blood-stained gears tightly in my hand. “Okay.” I nodded. My voice was so calm that even I was surprised by it. “Since the CEO finds my presence so irritating, I will disappear completely. I wouldn’t want to ruin this beautiful moment of brotherhood.” I turned around and walked out of the gym, step by step. Behind me, I could hear Roxy’s contemptuous laugh. “Sterling, look how dramatic she is. It’s literally just a watch, is it really that serious?” Is it really that serious? Of course it is. Because it wasn’t just the watch that shattered. It was ten years of my blood, sweat, and tears poured into him. And it was the very last shred of my patience. When I returned to the top-floor office, I called for Arthur. “Book me a flight. Pack my things.” Arthur froze. “Where is Ms. Vance going? Didn’t you just finish the European handover?” I tossed the blood-stained, shattered watch onto the desk. “I’m going to the coastal villa.” “But what about Mr. Vance…” “Don’t tell him. Revoke all his access permissions to my itinerary.” I looked out the floor-to-ceiling window at the city’s neon lights flickering to life in the gathering dusk. “From this day forward, Evelyn Vance no longer exists within Vance Enterprises.” The rain outside the coastal villa felt even more desolate and isolated than in the city center. I wrapped a cashmere shawl around my shoulders, sitting by the floor-to-ceiling window, listening to the waves and the rain violently lashing against the glass. There were no endless trans-Atlantic conference calls here. No fake, sycophantic corporate smiles. I slept the most peaceful, uninterrupted sleep I had experienced in three years. On the first night after I left, the top floor of Vance Enterprises was unnervingly quiet. Sterling finished reviewing the final merger acquisition file. Out of pure habit, he reached toward his left side. He grasped empty air. Usually, at this exact time, I would be sitting on the sofa, holding his custom-blended essential oil, waiting for him. He ripped his tie off in frustration and called out loudly. “Evelyn?” No response. The only person to push the door open was his assistant, Arthur. He stood in the doorway, too terrified to even breathe properly. “Mr. Vance… Ms. Vance is… not here.” “Where did she go?” “Ms. Vance said she was feeling dizzy, so she went back to her apartment to rest.” Sterling didn’t press the issue. He rubbed his violently throbbing temples, stood up, and walked into his private executive lounge. The lounge reeked of a pungent mix of cheap tobacco and men’s cologne. Roxy was sitting cross-legged on his custom leather bed, holding a stack of security blueprints. Seeing Sterling walk in, she patted the mattress next to her. “Sterling, get over here! These camera blind spots are pretty interesting, let’s run through them.” Sterling walked over and sat on the edge of the sofa. The stinging stench shot straight up his nose, making his eyes burn and his stomach violently churn in disgust. “That smell is way too strong. Open the window.” Roxy waved her hand dismissively. “The strong smell is what keeps you awake! Sterling, you’re way too delicate. You’re so used to breathing in those sickly-sweet perfumes. It’s good to switch it up and get a taste of something wild. You’ll get used to it.” Sterling lay down on the sofa and closed his eyes. All he could think about, the only thing his brain could process, was the faint, lingering scent of cold, clean cedarwood. It was my scent. He rolled over. He couldn’t sleep at all. His head was splitting open. It felt like ten thousand needles were stabbing directly into his cerebral cortex. “Roxy.” “Yeah?” “Get out.” Roxy froze. “Get out? Go where? I thought we agreed to pull an all-nighter troubleshooting the vulnerabilities?” “I want to be alone.” Sterling’s voice was dark and freezing. Although Roxy was arrogant, even she could tell his mood had turned lethal. She pursed her lips and rolled up the blueprints. “Fine, fine, fine. You’re the boss, whatever you say. I’ll come find you tomorrow.” After Roxy left, Sterling cranked the ventilation system to its maximum setting, desperately trying to eradicate the cheap stench from the room. But the migraine didn’t fade. It escalated violently. He tossed and turned on the sofa until the sun came up. At the morning executive briefing, Sterling sat at the head of the table, his eyes heavily bloodshot. The senior executives were terrified into absolute silence. Roxy sat in the back row, winking and making faces at Jax, implying that the “battle” last night had been intense. The second the meeting ended, Sterling marched straight to my Vice President’s office. “Evelyn.” He pushed the door open. The massive office was completely empty. The desk was spotless. Every single personal item had been cleared out. The only thing remaining was sitting dead center on the desk: a pile of shattered antique watch gears, resting on top of a formal letter of resignation. Sterling’s heart slammed violently against his ribs. He rushed over. In the blank space of the resignation letter, four words were written in pristine fountain pen ink: Take care of yourself. The knuckles of the hand gripping the paper turned bone-white. His fingertips trembled uncontrollably. Arthur stood in the doorway, cold sweat soaking his shirt. “Mr. Vance… Ms. Vance cut off all contact last night and went to the coastal villa… for an extended leave of absence.” “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me earlier?!” Sterling violently swept his arm across the desk, sending the folders and the pen holder crashing to the floor, letting out a roar of absolute, unhinged rage. “I… I didn’t dare…” Sterling collapsed into the desk chair, staring obsessively at the pile of blood-stained watch parts. The dried blood had turned a harsh, glaring crimson. He reached out to touch the red stain, but his fingertips recoiled violently as if he had been burned by fire. An unprecedented, suffocating terror wrapped around his heart like a thorny vine. She left. The sister who had thrown herself in front of a speeding car during the family inheritance war, who gave him the only path to survival, who guarded him every step of the way until he sat on the throne of Vance Enterprises… had been completely driven away by him. Sterling fell violently ill. A 104-degree fever. He was delirious, muttering incoherently in his sleep. The private medical team Vance Enterprises paid millions for worked around the clock, but they couldn’t find a single biological cause for the fever. All they could do was keep him on an IV drip. Roxy paced around the top-floor penthouse, frantic like a rat on a hot stove. “You bunch of useless hacks! You can’t even break a simple fever?! What is the point of the company paying you people?!” She snatched a cup of water from a nurse’s hand, attempting to force-feed Sterling fever reducers. Sterling’s eyes were squeezed shut, his jaw clamped shut like a vice. The water spilled down his chin and soaked into his collar. “Sterling, open your mouth! It’s Roxy! It’s your bro!” Roxy screamed at him, violently shaking his shoulders to wake him up. Sterling’s brows were tightly knitted. He mumbled something incomprehensible through his fever dream. Roxy leaned in close to listen. “The essential oil… the scent…” “What essential oil?!” Roxy whipped around and glared at Arthur. Arthur kept his head down, answering quietly, “Mr. Vance is asking for the soothing essential oil that Ms. Vance personally blends.” “That garbage again?!” Roxy slammed the water cup brutally onto the nightstand. “I refuse to believe this bullshit! You’re telling me he can’t survive without that controlling bitch?!” She turned, stormed into the master bathroom, grabbed a towel soaked in ice water, and violently slapped it directly onto Sterling’s face. “Sterling, wake the fuck up! Stop acting like a coward and letting a woman control you!” The freezing shock sent violent tremors through Sterling’s comatose body. He hacked and coughed violently, his face flushing an alarming, sickly, feverish red. “Get out…” He struggled to open his heavily bloodshot eyes, his voice a raspy, jagged whisper. “Get her… the fuck out…”

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In the chaotic emergency room, the doctor looked at us with frantic urgency. “What kind of venomous snake bit her?! I need an exact species right now so we can locate the correct antivenom!” I opened my mouth to speak, but my roommate cut me off, her voice panicked and shaky. “It was a coral snake! It… it was definitely a coral snake!” The blood drained from everyone’s faces. We had just returned to our dorms after winter break. Without telling anyone, she had smuggled a highly venomous reptile into our room. The snake had escaped its enclosure and bitten our roommate, who slept on the bottom bunk. We had sprinted all the way to the hospital carrying her. A few minutes later, and she might not have made it this far. Now, the doctor desperately needed the species to administer the life-saving antivenom. But my roommate, Chloe, had always possessed a twisted sense of humor. While we were terrified and hyperventilating, she kept changing her story. She absolutely refused to tell the truth. Watching her dramatically massage her temples, pretending she couldn’t remember, my entire body shook with rage. Chloe was notorious on campus for her “pranks.” No matter the situation, she loved messing with people. She wasn’t satisfied until she pushed someone to the point of tears. When people inevitably got angry, she would just brush it off with a breezy, “I’m just messing with you. Don’t be so sensitive.” But this was life or death. This was not a joke. Mia had fallen into a deep coma after the bite. The doctors needed to confirm the snake’s species to administer the antivenom. Every passing second was a step closer to death. Sure enough, when the doctor heard Chloe’s answer, his expression turned grim. “Are you absolutely certain? I need you to confirm one more time. What kind of snake bit her?” Chloe furrowed her brows in exaggerated concentration, then slowly shook her head and crouched down on the floor. I was losing my mind. I lunged forward and grabbed her by the collar of her hoodie. “Stop messing around! Tell the doctor what kind of snake it is right now! Are you trying to kill Mia?!” Her eyes welled up with fake tears. She bit her lip and said, “It’s a cobra! It’s definitely a cobra!” My other roommates and I exchanged a look, collectively letting out a massive sigh of relief. The doctor visibly relaxed and immediately turned to the nurse, ordering her to prep the cobra antivenom. Just as the nurse was about to sprint out of the room, Chloe suddenly spoke up again. “Wait!” “I think I might be remembering it wrong… Was it actually a cobra…?” We stood there, holding the unconscious Mia, our faces turning a ghostly white. “Chloe! Stop playing games! This is a medical emergency!” “The doctor needs the exact species to give her the right medication! If you keep stalling, it’s going to be too late!” Hearing our panic, Chloe actually let out a nonchalant little laugh. “Who’s playing games? I’m just worried that if I give them the wrong name, it might actually hurt her!” “Let me think… Nope, I was right. It’s a cobra!” The commotion was drawing the attention of everyone in the ER waiting area. Whispers broke out around us. “She secretly kept a venomous snake and now she’s playing guessing games? Is she trying to commit murder?” “Joking around at a time like this… that is psychopathic.” My fingertips were trembling. Not from fear, but from an overwhelming, blinding rage. Chloe was flipping her story back and forth, casually playing Russian roulette with Mia’s life. If she stalled any longer, the neurotoxins would completely shut down Mia’s system. It would be too late. Seeing the doctor preparing to administer the medication based on her “cobra” claim, I caught a sick flash of excitement in Chloe’s eyes. A cold chill shot down my spine. I shoved my way past the gurney and blocked the doctor. “Doctor, she is intentionally messing with you! Everything she just said is a lie!” “Please, I’m begging you, ask her one more time! Make her tell the truth!” My eyes were stinging with unshed tears. Mia, lying in my arms, was ice cold. Her breathing was so shallow I could barely feel it against my skin. The doctor frowned deeply, his sharp gaze darting between me and Chloe. The triage nurse immediately sensed the bizarre dynamic. She turned to Chloe, her voice hardening into a sharp command. “I am going to ask you one last time. What is the exact species of the snake? If you are obstructing a medical emergency with a prank, I will call the police immediately!” For years, we had tolerated Chloe’s twisted pranks. We had complained to our Resident Advisor several times, but he was a spineless guy who just wanted to keep the peace. “She just likes to goof off. She doesn’t mean any harm,” he would always say. For the sake of dorm harmony, I bit my tongue and let it slide, time and time again. Until winter break ended, and she secretly smuggled a highly venomous exotic pet into our room. The snake escaped and bit Mia. By the time we found her, she was already slipping into unconsciousness. We didn’t even have time to be angry; we just picked her up and ran like maniacs to the campus hospital. And now, after barely making it to the ER, Chloe was still treating this like a game. My eyes were bloodshot, and my voice shook violently. “Please, Chloe. Mia is fading fast. Can you please just stop this?” “If you just help us save her right now, I swear I will never complain about any of your pranks ever again.” The bystanders in the ER started chiming in. “Young lady, a life is on the line. Stop playing around.” “Save the girl first! If you keep stalling, she’s not going to make it!” Listening to the chorus of criticism, Chloe just rolled her eyes, completely unfazed. “It’s not that big of a deal. I was just pulling a little prank. Why is everyone overreacting?” Seeing that the doctor’s face had turned livid and he was reaching for the phone to call campus security and the police, Chloe finally dropped the smirk. She relented, sounding deeply annoyed. “Fine, fine! I’ll stop joking!” I let out a massive sigh of relief. But then, Chloe looked around at the crowd, her eyes finally settling on us, and she slowly, casually added: “It was a coral snake. Highly venomous. I just remembered.” The doctor’s face went completely pale. Before I could even process what was happening, he shouted at the nurse to stop, physically grabbing her arm to prevent the injection of the cobra antivenom. Seeing Mia’s lips turning a bruised shade of purple, Chloe spoke up again, her tone agonizingly slow. “Jeez, why do you guys look so stressed?” “I mean, the lights were out in the dorm, it was pitch black… I didn’t get a great look at it. I was just worried that if I gave you the wrong name, it would cause a problem!” “I’m just being cautious. I need to really think about it…” “Wait, no, no. It wasn’t a coral snake. It definitely was a cobra.” After delivering that completely contradictory statement, she clutched her chest and let out a dramatic sigh, as if she had just solved a complex math problem. I thought I was going to have a stroke. Holding the dying Mia, my last shred of self-control snapped. I screamed at the top of my lungs: “Chloe! IS THIS A FUCKING GAME TO YOU?! IF YOU STALL ANY LONGER, MIA IS GOING TO DIE!” But hearing my scream, Chloe didn’t look guilty. She looked offended. “How can you talk to me like that? Aren’t we roommates? It’s not like I did it on purpose!” “Oh, so you only care about her? My feelings don’t matter at all, right?” “I knew it! You guys are always ganging up on me! You’re bullying me!” “I can’t believe you’re treating me like this! If I knew you were going to be this mean, I wouldn’t have even come!” With that, she spun around and started storming toward the ER exit. My face went white. I shoved Mia into the arms of our other roommate and sprinted after Chloe, grabbing her arm in a vice grip. “Chloe! That’s not what I meant! Mia is literally dying, I’m just panicking! I didn’t mean to yell at you.” “The hospital has every antivenom in stock. As long as you tell the doctor exactly what kind of snake it is, we can save her right now, okay?” Chloe yanked her arm away and pointed a finger aggressively in my face. “This is your fault!” “If you hadn’t been screaming and making a huge scene in the dorm, maybe I wouldn’t have been so startled and I would have seen clearly what kind of snake bit her!” “It’s just a snake bite! My snakes are usually so well-behaved…” “You know what? I bet you’re targeting me! I bet you secretly let the snake out to bite her just so you could frame me for it!” My eyes went wide. I stared at Chloe, completely incapable of comprehending the sheer delusion coming out of her mouth. When the semester first started, I saw her sitting alone in the dining hall and went out of my way to befriend her and make her feel included. But ever since she got obsessed with exotic reptiles, everything changed. She spent every day in the dorm messing with various venomous snakes, completely ignoring our unified protests and genuine fear. She would bang around with their glass enclosures in the middle of the night, totally oblivious to anyone else’s existence. For the sake of dorm peace, I tolerated it. Until a few days ago, when she smuggled a new, highly venomous snake into the room in a locked box, calling it her “newest baby.” We had gone to the RA multiple times, but he was a coward who just wanted to avoid paperwork. He did absolutely nothing. Left with no choice, we lived in constant terror, reminding her every single day to make sure the latches were secured. But she always brushed us off. Until tonight. Just after lights out, a blood-curdling scream erupted from the bottom bunk. Mia was crying hysterically, saying something had bitten her. Chloe didn’t panic. Instead, she stood by her bed, clapping her hands and laughing. “See? Isn’t my little baby so pretty?” Mia was trembling violently in agony, her face turning a ghastly white. Ultimately, it was the rest of us who practically carried Mia all the way to the campus hospital. Mia had always been frail; her immune system couldn’t handle a massive dose of neurotoxin. She lost consciousness halfway to the ER. When we arrived, my first instinct was to call 911. But the other roommates begged me not to, saying we should contact the school administration first to avoid a massive scandal. Because we desperately needed to get in touch with Mia’s parents, I swallowed my anger and called the RA instead. But I never imagined that our constant appeasement would only embolden Chloe’s psychotic behavior. Even now, with a girl dying in front of her, she was still trying to prank us, refusing to name the snake. Watching Mia’s breathing grow shallower and shallower, the tears poured down my face. The triage nurse looked heartbroken, but medical protocol dictated they had to know the exact venom type before administering the serum. A mistake could be instantly fatal. I clutched Mia, sobbing as I begged Chloe. “Chloe, please, I am begging you, stop the prank. If we wait any longer, Mia is going to die. She’s your roommate!” The other roommate, her eyes red, chimed in softly. “Please. We’re begging you.” But Chloe just flashed her signature, infuriating smirk. “Ugh, relax! Stop rushing me. The more you rush me, the more nervous I get, and the harder it is to remember…” She turned and looked me right in the eye. “Victoria, I know you’re stressed, but you need to chill.” Saying that seemed to genuinely amuse her, and she let out a loud, bubbly giggle. I stared at her, suppressing a volcanic rage. “Chloe, if you intentionally give the doctor the wrong species, you are actively delaying life-saving treatment. You will be legally responsible.” Hearing that, Chloe finally shut her mouth. But her eyes were full of spiteful resentment at being called out. The ER doctor, finally understanding the twisted dynamic at play, spoke with cold authority. “Since the species is unconfirmed, we will proceed with broad-spectrum emergency stabilization. Please clear the doorway…” I let out a massive sigh of relief and nodded gratefully at the doctor, preparing to help wheel Mia’s gurney into the trauma bay. Just as the wheels started moving, Chloe suddenly shouted: “Wait! I remember!” “It’s the new snake I got today! It must have slipped out of the transport box!” She held up her phone, her eyes darting nervously but her posture projecting absolute confidence. “I’ll just pull up my order history right now! The receipt will say exactly what species it is!” Outside the trauma bay doors. Chloe stood frozen in place, holding her phone up, swiping aimlessly at the screen, putting on a highly theatrical show of searching for an email. First she claimed her phone was lagging. Then she claimed the hospital Wi-Fi was blocking the site. She dragged this agonizing performance out for nearly ten minutes before finally shoving the screen in our direction. “See? Found it… I told you guys to stop rushing me…” The screen did indeed show an exotic pet retailer’s confirmation page. The people standing nearby naturally leaned in to look, and their faces instantly contorted in shock. “Oh my god! That is an incredibly lethal species! This is insane!” “And we were actually feeling sorry for her earlier! She literally caused this entire nightmare herself!” Chloe’s face twisted into an ugly scowl. “I’m an exotic pet enthusiast. What’s the big deal if I keep a venomous snake? How does that affect any of you?” “Doctor, look, the receipt is right here! Now you know exactly what it is!” The doctor’s face darkened into a furious scowl. “Nobody move! Let me see that receipt clearly so I can authorize the correct antivenom!” I stared at the glowing screen. Something felt deeply, instinctively wrong. Sure enough, the very next second, she yanked the phone away and locked the screen. I reached out to grab the phone from her hand, but Chloe suddenly slapped her own forehead, looking incredibly annoyed. “Oh, shoot! I totally forgot! I ordered three different snakes in that shipment. Which one was the one that got out?” I was shaking with a rage so intense it felt like my blood was boiling. The dam finally broke. “ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MIND?!” I screamed. “There is a limit to these sick jokes! Would it kill you to just shut your mouth and tell the truth?!” “You’re intentionally dragging this out! Why do you have to cause chaos right now?!” “If Mia dies because you stalled, I swear to God, I will never, ever let you get away with this!” Chloe seemed to finally realize that I was genuinely, dangerously furious. A flicker of panic crossed her face. “No… Victoria… I was just messing around with you guys. Why are you getting so mad?” At that moment, my other roommate finally snapped and screamed at Chloe. “Chloe! If you don’t have anything helpful to say, then shut the fuck up!” “Is this a time for jokes?! Mia was envenomated! If you delay this any longer, she is going to die!” “I… I didn’t mean to…” Chloe muttered, lowering her head under the verbal assault. But I could clearly see the defiant, unrepentant glare in her eyes. She truly, genuinely didn’t believe she had done anything wrong. But Mia’s body was growing colder by the second. I didn’t have time to entertain Chloe’s psychotic games anymore. I turned to the ER doctor, my voice hoarse and pleading. “I know your protocols require exact confirmation. I’m not trying to make your job harder.” “But if there is absolutely no way to confirm the species, is there anything else you can do? Please, just try to save her. Her breathing is almost gone. She can’t hold on much longer.” I bowed deeply at the waist, a gesture of absolute desperation. The doctor and the charge nurse exchanged a heavy look, and finally, the doctor nodded. As the nurses began rolling the gurney into the trauma bay, Chloe was still muttering in the background. “Why is everyone being so dramatic… it’s just a snake bite. Give her a shot and she’ll be fine. It’s not like people don’t get bit by snakes all the time…” I pretended she didn’t exist. I just held onto Mia’s cold hand, praying silently over and over again that she would pull through. Chloe mumbled a few more complaints, and when she realized no one was paying attention to her, she finally shut up. But right at that exact moment, the heart monitor hooked up to Mia flatlined. I watched in horror as the medical team swarmed the gurney, launching into a frantic, desperate resuscitation protocol. I was pulled to the side, forced to repeatedly review a binder of snake profiles with a toxicologist in a blind attempt to identify the species visually. As I waited for news from the trauma bay, my heart was hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. A suffocating wave of dread washed over me. I stared unblinking at the red “IN USE” light above the trauma bay doors, terrified of what it meant when it turned off. In a daze, Chloe’s voice echoed in my memory. Right before they wheeled Mia in, she had muttered: “I just couldn’t remember clearly, it’s not like I did it on purpose.” A violent shudder racked my body. Did she truly not understand that intentionally being vague in a life-or-death medical emergency was the exact same thing as murder? No! She knew exactly what she was doing. Just like she knew that keeping highly venomous reptiles in a tiny college dorm was strictly prohibited, yet she hid them under her bed anyway, completely disregarding our safety. She also knew that the moment Mia was bitten, she was racing against the clock. Yet she intentionally lied, stalled, and played games with the doctor. The realization made my chest physically ache. And then, from down the hall, I heard Chloe’s shrill, complaining voice again. “Stop trying to scare me! You hospitals just love to exaggerate everything!” “It’s just a tiny snake bite! Why are you making it sound like she has terminal cancer?!” “We’re not doing this! Wheel her back out here right now!” My stomach plummeted. I shoved through a pair of double doors and saw Chloe—who had “volunteered” to go to the billing department—throwing a massive tantrum at the payment counter. The young billing clerk looked completely overwhelmed and distressed. I sprinted over and grabbed the clerk’s arm. “Excuse me! I’m her roommate! What’s happening? Are they not working on her?!” The clerk recognized me from the ER and quickly explained: “Miss, the venom is spreading through your roommate’s system incredibly fast. The doctors ordered an immediate dose of a specialized, broad-spectrum anti-venom cocktail. But this young woman refused to authorize the charge or provide insurance info, and it caused a massive delay in the pharmacy…” Before she even finished her sentence, I felt my knees almost buckle. The months of accumulated frustration and rage detonated inside me. I spun around, my eyes blazing, and screamed at Chloe: “Chloe! If Mia dies in there, are you prepared to carry that charge for the rest of your life?!” Without waiting for her to spout another delusional excuse, I slammed my own debit card onto the counter. But when I checked my banking app, I was hundreds of dollars short. Seeing me panic, Chloe strutted over, looking incredibly smug and self-righteous. “I told you guys you were overreacting. There’s no need for all this expensive medical drama.” “Just listen to me. We’ll take her back to the dorm, let her sleep it off, and she’ll be fine. There’s no reason to throw away money on this scam.” I was shaking so hard I could barely stand. I opened my mouth to scream at her again. But then, the heavy doors of the trauma bay swung open. The lead ER physician walked out, his face utterly grim. “I am so sorry. We did everything we could.” My legs instantly gave out, and I collapsed onto the cold linoleum floor. At that exact moment, our Resident Advisor, Mr. Harris, came sprinting down the hallway, looking frantic. He saw the white sheet pulled over the gurney and let out a trembling, horrified yell: “What happened?! You said you were getting the antivenom! How is she dead?!”

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