Category: English

When Mason asked for a breakup, I thought he was just throwing another tantrum. After all, everyone in the Upper East Side elite circle knew we had been childhood sweethearts, breaking up and making up for over a decade without ever truly severing ties. Too proud to be the first to beg for peace, I had my best friend text him, saying I had committed suicide. I didn’t expect Mason’s reply to her: [Tell her to drop dead! In fact, why didn’t you go die with her!] At the exact same time, Mason’s grad-school mentee updated her Instagram story. “Spring is here. I was going to hire a male stripper for the night, but this gorgeous guy insisted on throwing himself at me. Saved me $500.” The “stripper” wrapping his arms tightly around her neck in the photo was none other than Mason. When Mason asked for a breakup, I thought he was just throwing another tantrum. After all, everyone in the Upper East Side elite circle knew we had been childhood sweethearts, breaking up and making up for over a decade without ever truly severing ties. Too proud to be the first to beg for peace, I had my best friend text him, saying I had committed suicide. I didn’t expect Mason’s reply to her: [Tell her to drop dead! In fact, why didn’t you go die with her!] At the exact same time, Mason’s grad-school mentee updated her Instagram story. “Spring is here. I was going to hire a male stripper for the night, but this gorgeous guy insisted on throwing himself at me. Saved me $500.” The “stripper” wrapping his arms tightly around her neck in the photo was none other than Mason. …… I couldn’t believe my eyes. After staring at that painfully familiar face in the photo for a few seconds, my hands shook as I FaceTimed Mason. To my shock, the face that abruptly popped up on the screen was Scarlett’s, beaming with a radiant smile. “Mason is in the shower. If you have something to say, you can just tell me. It’s the same thing.” I stared blankly at the screen. Across Scarlett’s exposed collarbone was a cluster of bright red hickeys. The background was a messy, white hotel bed. I could faintly hear the sound of the shower running. Scarlett let out a scoff. “Looks like you’re still confused. I’ll send you a link to a post; you’ll understand everything once you see it.” Without waiting for my reply, she hung up and texted me a link from her own account. Numbly, I clicked on it. Though the poster’s profile picture was just a blurry silhouette, I instantly recognized it as Mason. Turns out, he had a secret burner account I knew nothing about. The post featured a video he had taken of me during our ski trip to Aspen last winter. In the video, I was holding a bouquet of winter blooms, skipping happily through the snow-capped mountains. But the caption read: She’s always so happy every time we go out. How do I tell her I stopped loving her a long time ago? I stopped loving her a long time ago! Every single word felt like a dagger plunged directly into my chest. It hurt so much I could barely breathe. But my first reaction was still denial. Mason and I had twenty years of history, a passionate and fiery romance. Everyone in New York society knew the Sterling and Crawford families had essentially arranged our marriage. Next month, after graduating with our Master’s degrees, we were supposed to have our wedding. Unless I heard him say he didn’t love me with his own mouth, some bullshit burner post meant nothing! Like a madwoman, I ran downstairs, hopped into my car, and sped straight to The Ritz-Carlton. Mason had a permanent VIP suite there. But the moment I reached his door, I heard the unmistakable, heavy panting echoing from inside. The sound wrapped around me like a curse, driving me to the brink of insanity. I bit my lip so hard that the metallic taste of blood bloomed in my mouth. I don’t know how much time passed, but masochistically, I stood there and listened to the entire process. Suddenly, the door swung open. Along with Mason’s face came the heavy, unmistakable scent of sex. The corners of Mason’s eyes were still flushed with lust. Seeing me, he didn’t panic at all. He just raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Didn’t you say you committed suicide? You look perfectly healthy grinding your teeth like that.” My gaze bypassed him, landing on Scarlett, who was taking her sweet time getting dressed on the bed, and the used condoms scattered on the floor. Through my blurry, tear-filled eyes, I saw her smile provocatively. “What are you so shocked about?” “It’s not like this is my first time with him. Empty classrooms, campus rooftops, the bed in his parents’ mansion, and even the sofa in that apartment you share with him… we’ve done it everywhere.” “Today I just wanted a thrill. I wanted you to come stand outside the door and listen, which is why I posted that story for you to see.” “Got to say, I’ve never seen Mason as excited as he was just now.” A wave of intense nausea hit me. My internal organs felt like they were twisting into knots. I looked up at Mason, my voice hoarse. “Is everything she said true?” Our eyes met, and Mason gave a lazy shrug. “I have nothing to defend.” The next second, I rushed into the hallway bathroom and threw up until my vision went dark. Footsteps echoed behind me, and a familiar, large hand gently patted my back. I looked up, seeing my bloodshot eyes in the mirror. Mason let out a sigh. “Chloe, can we calm down? We’ve already broken up.” My entire body ran cold. I stared at his reflection dead in the eye. “Scarlett joined your advisor’s lab three months ago. Over these last three months, we’ve ‘broken up’ so many times. Tell me, which time was the real one?” “Every single one.” The brief answer made my scalp go numb with agony. It turned out that what I thought were just lovers’ quarrels were his premeditated attempts to leave me. Seeing how deathly pale my face was, he sighed helplessly and turned to Scarlett. “You head back first. Chloe and I need to talk.” Scarlett smiled with absolute confidence. “Sure. After all, it’s not easy to cleanly sever twenty years of history.” With that, she left. Mason’s infatuated gaze followed her retreating figure, exactly the way he used to look at me with such deep devotion. It wasn’t until Scarlett’s footsteps completely faded away that he finally brought his eyes back to my face. “Why?” I asked, my voice trembling. “There is no ‘why’.” Mason lit a cigarette and leaned lazily against the wall. “I got bored of you. I got tired of us.” “But none of this has anything to do with Scarlett. She might seem arrogant on the surface, but she’s innocent at heart. She never wanted to get between us.” “Don’t go looking for trouble with her. If you’re mad, take it out on me. I’m the one who wanted to break up with you over the last three months; you’re the one who refused to take it seriously.” I suddenly burst into laughter, my heart aching so badly it trembled. “Mason Crawford, are you really defending her like this?” “Then what about me? What am I?!” I screamed at him, my voice tearing. “When you ran toward me with flowers at seventeen, when you kissed me under the stars at eighteen, when we lay in the same bed for the first time at twenty… did you ever think there would come a day where you’d treat me like this for another woman?!” His hand holding the cigarette paused, his cold eyes flashing with a hint of red. “No. I never thought we’d end up like this. But that’s all in the past.” “Chloe, maybe the seventeen-year-old me loved you desperately, but the twenty-five-year-old me undeniably doesn’t.” “We can’t let a few moments from our past shackle our entire future.” I stared at his hardened profile. My heart squeezed with a pain so intense I couldn’t speak. Twenty years of feelings. From childhood companionship to adult intimacy—shattered into dust by his few weightless sentences. My last shred of dignity stopped me from making any more futile arguments. I turned and walked away, every step feeling like I was walking on broken glass. But the man behind me suddenly lunged forward and grabbed my wrist. “You’re too emotional right now. I don’t feel safe letting you leave alone. I’ll drive you home.” One sentence, and in a daze, it felt like we were back in the days when he still loved me. But there was undeniably no trace of that past affection left in his eyes. I forcefully ripped my hand out of his grasp, shedding tears of self-mockery. “No need. Since the love is gone, we should make a clean break. Dragging things out isn’t my style!” “Even if we aren’t a couple anymore, we still grew up together! I still care about your safety!” He yelled at me, frowning, and without giving me a chance to refuse, he practically dragged me to his car and shoved me into the passenger seat. My gaze abruptly landed on the plushie hanging from his rearview mirror—a little figure in a racing suit. Belatedly, I remembered Mason once mentioning that Scarlett was an amateur race car driver. When did this plushie get hung up here? I couldn’t even remember. I watched Mason driving with a serious expression, not knowing exactly when the love between us had begun to rot. The car drove all the way into my upscale neighborhood and stopped in front of my family’s estate. Usually, at this moment, we would share a passionate, lingering kiss, refusing to let each other go. But today, swallowing the burning acid behind my eyes, I didn’t look at him. I simply reached for the door handle. Yet Mason grabbed my hand again. “Chloe,” he called my name, his voice hoarse. “I’m sorry…” “Save your apologies,” I cut him off. “They make me sick!” I violently yanked my hand back. As I did, my arm struck the rearview mirror, shattering the little racer plushie. Instantly, his brow furrowed in deep distress. He ignored me entirely, dropping down to meticulously gather the broken pieces. I gave him one last look, turned, and ran into my house. Outside the door, Mason’s phone started to ring. Perhaps because his hands were full, he put it on speaker. “Mason, I saw your mentee’s Instagram story. Are you really with her? What about Chloe? Are you seriously throwing away twenty years together?” It was my best friend, Maya. I bit my lip so hard it bled, waiting for Mason’s response. After a long silence, his exhausted voice drifted through the door. “Even if it’s hard to let go, I’ve already said the cruelest things to Chloe to her face. Ripping the band-aid off quickly will hurt her less in the long run.” “Because right now, I am absolutely certain: I want to be with Scarlett, not Chloe.” In that exact moment, I heard something inside me snap. It completely shattered. A thick, intense wave of sourness mixed with the metallic taste of blood surged up my throat. I violently coughed up a massive mouthful of blood. The next second, I completely lost consciousness. The smell of antiseptic. I slowly opened my eyes. My vision was filled with the stark white ceiling and walls of a hospital room. My parents and Maya were standing by my bed, their eyes red, watching me anxiously. “Chloe! Two days and two nights! You’re finally awake. Do you have any idea that you’re pregnant?!” I froze, my hand subconsciously moving to my flat stomach. Why? Why now, of all times? My mom took my hand, tears streaming down her face. “Chloe, we know what that bastard Mason did.” “This baby… what do you want to do?” “Don’t worry, aside from the three of us, no one else knows this child exists.” “Whatever you decide, we support you.” I lowered my eyes, a thousand thoughts rushing through my mind. Seeing my conflict, my parents and Maya knew I was struggling. “We’ll go get you some food and pastries. Take your time and think about it.” “Even if you want to keep the baby and ditch the father, the Sterling family is more than wealthy enough to raise a child!”

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Five years of marriage, and this morning was the first time Mark actually sat across from me at the breakfast table. He wasn’t alone. He was holding the hand of a three-year-old boy. “My buddy from the Marines passed away,” Mark said, not looking at me. ” Kid’s got no one. I want to adopt him. Put him under both our names.” 我 kept moving my fork, not breaking rhythm. The boy looked up. His eyes, his nose—they were a carbon copy of the man sitting across from me. “A buddy?” I asked coldly. “Three years ago, when you did that ‘consulting gig’ in Vegas… did you stay at the Bellagio, or did you rent a private condo in Summerlin?” His face went pale. “Look, the mother… she doesn’t want any drama. She’s just going to live here and help take care of the kid…” “Live here? In the guest room right next to the master?” “Come on, you get a son out of the deal, you stay Mrs. Sterling. It’s a win-win.” I set my fork down. I looked at this man who had used my dowry—my inheritance—to launch three separate LLCs. His family’s “conglomerate” was a hollowed-out shell, currently sitting on an eighty-million-dollar deficit. Every cent keeping it afloat was my father’s money. “Mark, I already had my attorneys draw up the divorce papers.” I leaned in, my voice icy. “Every asset under your name is about to belong to me.” 01 “Belong to you?” Mark repeated the phrase, his tone twisting it into the punchline of a bad joke. He picked up the boy, placed him in a high chair, then turned back to me, jamming his hands into his pockets. “Harper, we’ve been married five years. Who is listed as the registered agent and CEO of all three Sterling subsidiaries?” “You are.” “Whose name is on the deed to this house?” “Yours.” “Exactly.” He pulled out his chair and sat down, methodically buttering a piece of toast. “That eighty million your dad pumped in? That went through corporate loan channels. P-to-P agreements signed between entities. Your name, Harper Vance, appears on exactly zero of those documents.” He took a bite of toast. “You have no leverage. How exactly are you going to divorce me?” The three-year-old boy sat in his high chair, stabbing at a cup of yogurt with a spoon. Every few stabs, he’d peek at me. His brow, the bridge of his nose, even the tiny mole near the corner of his mouth—it was a genetic blueprint of Mark Sterling. “You really think I didn’t come prepared?” I asked. “Prepared with what? A lawyer?” He chuckled. “You mean Miller? I had dinner with him last night. His firm is now on retainer as external counsel for Sterling Corp.” I just stared at him. He put the toast down, clapped the crumbs off his hands, and stood up. “Harper, stop making a scene.下午 (This afternoon), a woman named Chloe is coming over. Do me a favor and make sure the room next door is made up.” He walked to the mudroom to change his shoes. As he bent over to tie his laces, he looked back at the boy. “Ace, buddy, be good for Daddy. I’ll be back tonight.” Daddy. Not Uncle. He wasn’t even pretending anymore. Twelve minutes after the door slammed shut, my phone rang. An unknown number. “Hi, um, Mrs. Sterling? This is Chloe.” The voice was soft, saccharine, with a slight Southern lilt. “Mark told me to come by around three. Is the room ready?” She called him Mark. “What else did he tell you?” I asked. “He said… he said you were okay with this.” “When exactly did I say that?” Silence on the other end for two seconds. “Look, I really won’t be in the way. I’m just here to help take care of Ace, maybe do some cooking. Think of me as a free live-in nanny…” “The person you have pinned at the top of your iMessage list—what is their nickname?” Her breath hitched. “I saw his screen this morning, Chloe. Between eight and nine a.m., you sent him eight texts. The last one said—’Hubby, did she agree yet? I’m so nervous.’” “Mrs. Sterling…” “You have a second Instagram account. ‘Chloe’s Blessed Life.’ Hundred and seventeen thousand followers. Three months ago, you posted a reel. The background was a living room—recessed warm lighting, a custom mahogany bar, Italian silk curtains. You looked into the camera and said, ‘Guys, this is the home hubby and I built.’” Total silence on the line. “That living room is my living room. Those curtains were custom-ordered from Milan by me. I bought that bar.” Silence. “Are you still coming at three?” Her voice was barely a whisper, but there was no surrender. “Mark told me to be there.” At 3:02 p.m., the doorbell rang. She was wearing a cream-colored knit dress, her hair in a low ponytail, her skin ridiculously pale and glowing. When she smiled, she had two deep dimples. “Hi, Harper.” She bent down, dragging two large suitcases across the threshold. The boy, Ace, jumped off the sofa and sprinted into her arms. “Mommy!” He hugged her tight. She kissed his forehead, then looked up at me. There wasn’t a hint of guilt in her eyes. She took a slow turn around the living room, acting like she was returning home. Because in her mind, it was her home. “Which way to the guest room, Harper? I can find it myself.” “That ring on your left hand.” Her smile froze. On her left ring finger was a sapphire and diamond ring. My engagement ring. Two years ago, Mark said he took it to the jewelers for a professional cleaning and “security check.” It never came back. She hid her hand behind her back. “Mark gave it to me…” “I know who gave it to you.” I turned and walked upstairs. Behind me, her voice followed, high-pitched, laced with a sweet, nauseating brand of grievance. “I’m really just here to help!” 02 “Harper, you are being ridiculous.” My mother-in-law, Brenda, called sooner than expected. “Mark told me everything. That child is the son of his Marine buddy who died in theater. Where is your compassion? Where is your grace?” “Brenda, the child calls Chloe ‘Mommy.’” “Kids say things. He’s three. He calls whoever holds him Mommy.” Her words were rapid-fire, like she’d been rehearsing this script all night. “And Mark was very clear with me. That girl is temporary help. She’ll be gone in a few weeks. You are only twisting this because you’re bitter that you haven’t given him a child in five years.” When those words hit, my nails dug so deep into my palms it broke the skin. “Brenda, do you know why I haven’t had a child in five years?” “If your health is poor, go to a specialist. I have told you a thousand times—” “During our second year of marriage, Mark made me take holistic herbal supplements for six months. He said it was to help with fertility. I took the prescription to a real lab to be tested. Three of the ingredients, if taken long-term, cause permanent sterility.” Two seconds of dead silence on the line. “You’re lying.” “I have the lab report. I can send a copy to your attorney.” Brenda sputtered. “I don’t need to see anything! Has my son not taken good care of you? Are you really trying to destroy this family?” She slammed the phone down. At noon, Chloe came down from the room next door and cooked a massive spread. BBQ ribs, roasted vegetables, artisanal bread. The boy, Ace, sat at the table, clutching a fork, his face covered in sauce. She sat next to him, wiping his face with a wet wipe, one gentle dab at a time. She stood up when she saw me come downstairs. “Harper, I made a plate for you, too.” The plate was placed at the far end of the table. She was sitting in my usual chair. I didn’t touch the food. Later, when I went to the pharmacy to pick up some medication, I swiped Mark’s business credit card—the high-limit one he gave me for household use. “I’m sorry, ma’am. This card has been declined.” I switched to my personal debit card and entered my PIN. Insufficient Funds. I opened my mobile banking app. Three days ago, a massive transfer had been executed from my personal savings account. Every dime—one hundred and forty thousand dollars—was gone. Transferred to a Sterling Corp holding account. Authorized by: Mark Sterling. He used a clause in the power of attorney I signed years ago for investment purposes—”Party A grants Party B authority to allocate and manage funds for investment opportunities.” Brenda arrived early that evening. Seventy years old, wearing kitten heels, carrying a high-end gift bag of fruit. The moment she saw Chloe, Brenda beamed. “Oh, look at you, sweetie. You are absolutely stunning. Come here, let Brenda see little Ace.” She scooped the boy up, rubbing his cheek, kissing his forehead, her eyes crinkling into slits. “This nose. He looks exactly like Mark did at this age.” She knew. She knew everything. Brenda reached into her purse and pulled out a velvet box. She opened it. A jade bangle bracelet. Deep emerald green, flawless, incredibly high quality. I recognized it instantly—item eleven on my pre-nuptial inventory list. It was part of my family inheritance, valued at ninety thousand dollars. During our second year of marriage, Brenda said she wanted to borrow it for a charity gala, just for one night. I never saw it again. She slid the bangle onto Chloe’s wrist. “Here, this is for you. For taking such good care of the boy.” Chloe made two polite attempts to refuse, just enough for show, then accepted it on the third. “Thank you, Brenda.” She smiled directly at me when she said it. Brenda sat on the sofa, took a sip of the tea Chloe had brewed, and looked at me. “Harper, you’re thirty. Everyone knows it gets harder for a woman to conceive after thirty. Ace is such a sweet boy. Let’s just focus on raising him for now, and we can discuss the future later.” “Brenda, that bracelet is mine.” “What’s yours is mine? Harper, you married into the Sterling family. What belongs to you belongs to the family.” She set her teacup down. “Harper, if you’re really struggling to understand how the real world works, then let me put it plainly—Mark told me you want a divorce.” Brenda looked at me, her gaze switching from “sweet grandmother” to predatory matriarch. “You entered the Sterling family through a gilded door. There is no exit.” “Your father’s money? That was an investment in Sterling Corp. Investments carry risks. Did you not learn that in school?” “Think about it. You’re one woman. No children. No assets. What are you going to do out there on your own?” Chloe stood near the kitchen door holding Ace. She didn’t say anything. But she was smiling. Those deep dimples. Brenda stood up, brushing imaginary lint off her designer skirt. “Think long and hard before you speak to me like that again.” “Women are lined up down the block hoping for a shot at a man like Mark Sterling. You should be counting your blessings in silence.” 03 “Dinner tonight at my mom’s. She invited a few relatives.” Mark’s text arrived at 4:00 p.m. When I arrived at Brenda’s estate, there were seven or eight people sitting in the living room. aunts, uncles, cousins. People we never saw, but they were all here today. At the dinner table, my chair was gone. Chloe was sitting to Mark’s right, with Ace on her lap. My chair, the one I had sat in for five Thanksgiving dinners, had been moved to a dusty corner of the dining room. “Harper’s here,” Brenda announced, not looking up from her plate. “Pull up a stool, sweetie.” Mark’s Aunt Carol spoke up. “Mark, this is the young lady you were telling us about? She is stunning. And the boy… he is the image of you.” Mark smiled. He didn’t deny it. Carol then turned to Chloe. “Sweetheart, how old are you?” “Twenty-four,” Chloe replied, sounding like a shy choir girl. “Twenty-four and already raising a beautiful boy. Impressive. Shows character.” Aunt Carol shot me a pointed look. Brenda chimed in. “Tell me about it. Some people spend five years in a house and leave it emptier than they found it.” The entire table fell silent. Not one person spoke up for me. I stood there, clutching a glass of water. “Harper, don’t just stand there. Sit.” Mark finally spoke. He pointed to a small, wooden step-stool that had been placed at the very end of the table. I didn’t sit. “Mark, my attorney has been trying to contact you all day.” “We’re having a family dinner, Harper. This is not the time.” “Miller’s firm has been completely compromised by the retainer you put them on. I tried contacting six other law firms in the city today. Three are existing clients of yours, two received personal calls from you advising them not to take the case, and one told me outright they ‘don’t have the bandwidth’ for high-asset divorce cases right now.” The dining room went silent for two seconds. “Harper—” Brenda chopsticks clattered against the fine china. “Are you really going to humiliate us in front of the family?” “Humiliate you? Is that what this is?” “You are being completely unreasonable,” Aunt Carol snapped, slamming her hand on the table. “Mark has provided everything for you. Look at the wives in this city. How many live in a house as nice as yours? How many get to spend money the way you do?” I looked at Aunt Carol. “Spend money? My credit card was declined at the pharmacy today. He transferred a hundred and forty thousand dollars out of my personal savings account. Right now, I have three hundred dollars in my pocket, and that’s only because I withdrew cash yesterday.” Aunt Carol blinked, stunned. She turned to Mark. “Mark, is this…” “Aunt Carol, this is a private marital matter. Please don’t listen to her histrionics.” Mark didn’t stop eating. His tone was smooth, perfectly calm. “Harper hasn’t been herself lately. She’s under a lot of stress. I’ve actually made an appointment for her with a top-tier psychiatrist.” A psychiatrist. He was telling everyone I was mentally unstable. In front of the entire extended family. Chloe sat next to him, her head bowed, feeding Ace. She didn’t speak. She didn’t look at me. But her phone screen lit up on the table. I saw her quickly type two words and hit send. “Handled.” I couldn’t see who she sent it to. But I saw the nickname on the chat window. Hubby. At 11:00 p.m., I sat alone in my master bedroom. All my bank cards were frozen. My legal avenues were blocked. The entire family was aligned against me. From the room next door came the sound of Chloe singing a lullaby, her voice saccharine sweet. I pulled out my phone. I scrolled to a number I hadn’t dialed in five years. Dad. I didn’t press call. As the phone screen dimmed, Brenda’s voice drifted up from downstairs. She was talking to Chloe. “Chloe, sweetie, you make yourself comfortable. This house… it’s going to be yours sooner rather than later.” “Honestly, if Harper just packs up and leaves, it’ll be easier. We won’t have to look at her miserable face anymore. It’s not like she can take anything with her. Nothing useful, anyway.” 04 “Sign it.” The next morning, Mark threw a thick legal document on the table in front of me. A Supplemental Post-Nuptial Agreement. Twelve pages, professionally drafted. I flipped it open— Article 3: Party B (Harper Vance) hereby waives all future claims to equity, profits, or assets of Party A’s associated business entities. Article 7: Party B assumes sole responsibility for all personal debts accrued during the marriage. Article 9: Party B confirms that all assets previously designated as ‘dowry’ or ‘inheritance’ were converted into business capital upon investment and are non-refundable. Article 11: Signing of this agreement constitutes Party B’s consent to a peaceful dissolution of marriage, with no further claim to marital assets. I flipped to the last page. Under “Party A,” Mark had already signed his name. Sterling Corp had also applied its corporate seal. “You sign this, we have a clean break. I won’t make this difficult for you.” He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat opposite me. “You can stay in the house until the end of the year. I’ll give you a debit card with twenty thousand dollars a month for living expenses. That’s more than enough for you to get back on your feet and find a job.” Twenty thousand. I brought thirty million dollars in assets into this marriage. My father pumped in eighty million to save his empty shell company. And he was offering me twenty thousand a month. “What if I don’t sign?” He took a sip of coffee. “If you don’t sign, you can still leave. But you will leave with nothing. Not a dime. Not even your jewelry—I should remind you, Brenda is currently in possession of your inheritance collection, and she claims it was a gift. You want to sue her in probate court? Go ahead. Get in line. It’ll take years.” He set his mug down and stared at me. “Harper, you have vastly overestimated your own value.” “What do you think you have? Your father’s influence? Your father’s influence matters in a boardroom. It is worthless in a divorce court.” Chloe walked out of the kitchen carrying a breakfast tray. Eggs benedict, artisanal toast, fresh-squeezed orange juice. She set a plate in front of Mark and a small plate in front of Ace. Nothing for me. “Breakfast is served, Mark.” She sat next to him. At my table. In my chair. Brenda came downstairs and glanced at the agreement on the table. “Sign it, Harper. Get it over with. Look at you. No money, no children, no lawyer. Why are you still fighting?” “Honestly, if you don’t sign this, let me be blunt—what are you, without your father’s bank account?” Mark leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs, looking at me with total amusement. I knew that look. It was a look of absolute, bone-deep certainty. He was certain I would sign. Certain I had no cards left to play. Certain he had won the game. “Harper Vance, you can refuse to sign. But the moment you walk out that Sterling door, you are nothing.” He was smiling when he said it. At that exact second, my phone rang on the table. The screen lit up. The caller ID read one word—

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Mia and I both entered into strategic marriages with other wealthy families. But after the weddings, despite my perfect health, I couldn’t get pregnant. Meanwhile, Mia, who had been diagnosed with an inhospitable womb, quickly had a daughter with her husband—a man notorious for severe male-factor infertility. Outside the delivery room, a private doctor mistook me for my adopted sister and offered a comforting smile. “Everyone’s luck is different. Your sister has an incredible constitution, but you still have hope.” I forced a smile and politely corrected him about my identity. The doctor’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Then why haven’t you…” I was deeply stung. I assumed I just wasn’t trying hard enough. I went home and rigorously managed my diet and fitness, pushing my body to the limit. I even took Mia’s recommendation and started undergoing IVF treatments. Right after waking up from the procedure, cramping so badly I couldn’t stand straight, my phone buzzed. Mia, whose first pregnancy was already deemed a medical miracle, was pregnant with her second child. …… I stared at the text message on my phone, frozen in place. Envy and resentment washed over me like a suffocating tide. For some reason, my mind drifted back to the day I was brought home to my biological family. I was wearing faded, cheap clothes, looking entirely out of place in the sprawling Sterling estate. Mia, wearing a custom designer dress, showed no hostility in her eyes. Instead, she reached out and took my hand. “Sister, we’re family now.” My biological parents, their faces etched with guilt, sat me down. “Harper, Mom and Dad are so sorry. We promise to spend the rest of our lives making it up to you.” “We’ve already arranged strategic marriages for both you and Mia. Take a look and see which family you prefer.” Compared to living paycheck to paycheck as a wage slave for the rest of my life, an arranged marriage seemed like a small price to pay. I agreed without a second thought. A few days later, our pre-marital medical checkup results came back. The doctor’s expression was grave. “Harper exercises regularly and is in peak physical health.” “However, Mia… you have a congenitally weak reproductive system. Conceiving will be incredibly difficult for you.” That night, Mia came to see me privately. “Harper, the Vance family is incredibly powerful, but Carter Vance has severe fertility issues. If you marry him, you’ll definitely suffer the blame for not producing an heir.” “But with my condition, if I marry into the Vance family and we can’t conceive, neither of us can blame the other.” I was deeply touched at the time, thinking this was terribly unfair to Mia. She just smiled, her voice soft. “I lived in the Sterling house for twenty years, enjoying everything that was rightfully yours. It’s the least I can do.” My parents urged me as well. “Harper, listen to Mia. The Vance family is too complicated.” “You should marry into the Hayes family. Our families are on equal footing, and we know Ethan is a good man.” At the time, I thought I had finally found my happily ever after. Not only did I have a family, but I also had a great marriage lined up. I had no idea it was the beginning of a nightmare. Ethan Hayes was indeed very good to me. He was honest, loyal, and accommodated my every need. But a year into our marriage, my stomach remained perfectly flat. In these high-society alliances, producing an heir is the absolute top priority. The already tense atmosphere in the house completely exploded the day we received the news of Mia’s pregnancy. My mother-in-law went from polite and smiling to increasingly hostile. She muttered complaints all day long. “We bought a barren hen. If I had known, I would have had my son marry Mia. At least she could give me a grandson…” I was both furious and humiliated. Ethan immediately stepped in front of me, shielding me. “Mom, Harper is trying her best. You can’t blame her if it hasn’t happened yet. We can’t rush this.” My mother-in-law glared at me, raising her voice. “How can I not rush? Look at the Vances! They used to look down on Mia, but now that she’s pregnant, the whole family treats her like royalty. Everyone says she’s blessed with incredible luck. And look at our family…” Because of this, I cut out all my favorite foods. I worked out, tracked my sleep, and lived with a monk-like discipline that didn’t belong in the 21st century. I didn’t even dare use my regular skincare products, terrified that the chemicals might affect conception. Ethan and I went to the hospital for multiple extensive checkups. But the reports showed we were both perfectly healthy without a single issue. As for why I couldn’t get pregnant, even the doctors couldn’t explain it. My thoughts snapped back to the present. I tucked my medical file away and prepared to head home. A sudden gasp rang out, blocking my path. “Sister, are you here to visit me?” I looked up to see Mia wearing a loose, elegant maternity dress. One hand was carefully protecting her belly, while the other was tightly held by Carter Vance. Carter, who used to be arrogant and constantly spoke to Mia with cold disdain, now had eyes full of tenderness. “Walk slower, don’t be in such a rush. What if you bump into something?” Mia smiled and patted his hand. “I’m fine, I’m not that fragile.” Then, she turned to me, her eyes brimming with concern. “Harper, why are you at the hospital? Are you here for more tests?” I hid the IVF report behind my back, keeping my tone flat. “Yeah, just finished.” Just then, our parents walked out of a nearby clinic room. Seeing me, their smiles stiffened for a second. Then, they immediately turned their doting attention back to Mia. “Mia, you’re a mother of two now, you have to be careful with everything.” Carter quickly spoke up, his tone respectful. “Mom, Dad, don’t worry, I’ll take good care of Mia. She’s the hero of our entire family now.” Ever since Mia helped Carter—who was practically sterile—have a daughter, her status in the Vance family skyrocketed. Mrs. Vance bragged to everyone in their social circle about Mia’s “fertile aura,” claiming her second child was guaranteed to be a boy. Even the Sterling family secured several lucrative business contracts riding on her coattails. My parents, who once felt deeply guilty toward me, now revolved their entire lives around Mia. My mom held Mia’s hand, looking more satisfied by the second, showering her with praise. “Mia really is our lucky charm. You are the pride of the Sterling family.” Saying that, she turned to me, her tone noticeably cooling. “Harper, how were the results? Still nothing?” My chest tightened. I gripped the medical file harder and whispered. “No.” My mom frowned, her voice dripping with disappointment. “Look at you. You’re so healthy, why can’t you just get pregnant? Are you even trying?” My dad sighed heavily. “Harper, stop being so stubborn. Take care of your body. The Hayes family is waiting for a grandchild.” Mia quickly played the peacemaker, grabbing my arm. “Oh right, Harper, did you drink that herbal remedy I sent you? It’s really helpful for conception.” Just hearing about that remedy sparked a fire in my gut. My tone was sharper than I intended. “I drank it. It didn’t work.” Not only did it not work, but it also caused a horrible breakout of cystic acne all over my face. I reached up and touched my cheek. The redness that had finally started to fade felt hot and inflamed again. Mia’s smile deepened for a fraction of a second, before she feigned surprise. “How could that be? It worked wonders for me. It completely stabilized my pregnancy.” I had zero patience for small talk, so I made an excuse and walked away. Without realizing it, I wandered over to the maternity ward nursery. I stopped in my tracks, looking through the glass at the tiny, pink newborns, my heart aching with envy. I had loved babies since I was a little girl. I thought they were the most beautiful things in the world. But now, it felt like I would never be able to have one of my own. “What are you doing?!” Suddenly, a shrill woman’s voice pierced the air. A new mother in postpartum loungewear rushed over and shoved me hard, her eyes fierce. “Who are you? Are you trying to steal my baby?” I stumbled back, desperately trying to explain. “You’re misunderstanding! I’m just a patient here for a checkup. I thought the babies were cute, so I was just looking.” The woman shielded the glass, her gaze still vicious. “A patient? How do I know you’re not faking it? What if you have some infectious disease and you give it to my kid?” “I don’t!” I said, my voice shaking with panic. “You don’t? Then show me your medical records!” The woman advanced on me, reaching out to snatch the file from my hand. I instinctively hid the papers behind my back, hesitating. The words IVF Report printed on the paper felt like a branding iron. I didn’t want anyone to see it. Especially not in such a humiliating situation. I didn’t want to be a laughingstock. But the more I dodged, the more certain the woman became that I was hiding something sinister. “What? Feeling guilty?” She sneered and lunged at me. She ripped the report right out of my hand. She quickly scanned the paper, then shouted to the growing crowd. “Everyone, look at this! This woman is doing IVF! She can’t have her own kids, so she came here to steal mine! How creepy!” The surrounding crowd immediately cast bizarre looks my way. Some were curious, some were disgusted, and some were full of pity. Those stares felt like physical needles piercing my skin. I clenched my fists, my voice freezing over. “What kind of nonsense are you spewing?! If I wanted a child, I could adopt! Why on earth would I steal yours?” Just then, Mia and my parents hurried over. Mia held her belly, took in the situation, and her eyes darted around. She quickly stepped forward, gently pulling the woman’s arm, and said softly. “Ma’am, please don’t be angry. My sister has just been struggling to get pregnant and is very anxious. She saw how cute your baby was and couldn’t help but look. She had no intention of stealing anyone.” The woman looked me up and down, her tone even more disdainful. “Look at the acne all over her face. You can tell she’s psychologically twisted and bitter. Someone like her, even if she could get pregnant, would be a terrible mother! Who knows what sick ideas she had in her head?” I was trembling with rage. I opened my mouth to tear into her, but my mom yanked me back. She frowned, her voice full of impatience. “Harper, you were the one at fault first. Stop causing trouble and making us a public joke.” I looked at my mother in utter disbelief. I had just glanced through a window, and I was being humiliated and slandered. Yet my family didn’t defend me; they thought I was the embarrassment. Mia quickly patted my back. “Sister, Mom is just looking out for you. Don’t argue with her, it’s not worth it.” I looked at the cold expressions on my parents’ faces, and then at the judging eyes of the crowd. All my grievance and anger were swallowed by a suffocating sense of powerlessness. I bit my lip, forcing my tears back down, turned on my heel, and walked away without another word. Just as I rounded the corner of the corridor, I heard a familiar voice. It was the new mother from a moment ago. Standing across from her was her husband. “Honey, I don’t think that woman meant any harm. Weren’t you a bit too harsh, poking right at her insecurities?” The woman stammered for a moment before finally confessing. “Actually, a pregnant woman named Sterling told me to do it. She said if I put on a good show, she’d pay me.” “I just saw how hard you work and wanted to make some quick money for diapers.” The man paused, shocked. “Aren’t they family? Why would she do that?” The woman shook her head, quickly pulling her husband away, lowering her voice. “Keep it down! We got paid, that’s all that matters.” It felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over my head. I stood frozen, unable to process the shock. Mia. Why would she do this? Chapter 2 When I got home, Ethan was already waiting in the living room. Seeing my pale face, he quickly rushed over to support me. “You look awful, are you feeling sick?” “I’m sorry, work has been so crazy I haven’t had time to go with you.” I forced down the turmoil in my heart, shook my head, and squeezed out a smile. “I’m fine, just a little tired. The IVF went smoothly. The doctor said we’ll do a follow-up in a week to see how things look.” Ethan breathed a sigh of relief and helped me sit down. “That’s good. Don’t stress too much. No matter what the result is, I’m right here with you.” My heart ached, but I didn’t dare tell him about the nightmare at the hospital. Over the next few days, while resting my body, I couldn’t stop replaying the past in my mind. The more I thought about it, the more twisted it all felt. Mia’s concern over my pregnancy felt too deliberate. Too passionate. Ever since I got married, she frequently sent me obscure folk remedies, always adding a special note. “Harper, I had to pull a lot of strings to find this. It works miracles. I’m drinking it myself, you have to try it.” Before, I was overflowing with gratitude, thinking she genuinely cared. But looking back, those remedies were bizarre. Some smelled putrid, others made my body run unnaturally hot. I only dared to drink one once before I couldn’t stomach it anymore. But coincidentally, the day after I drank that potion, Mia announced her first pregnancy. At the time, I was genuinely thrilled for her. “Mia, your hard work finally paid off!” “But you’re fragile, and the doctors said you’re high-risk. Please be careful.” Later, I found out Mia’s daily routine was a mess. She stayed up late and did whatever she wanted. Yet, her pregnancy was unnaturally stable. There wasn’t a single scare. And that was exactly the time I was driving myself crazy trying to conceive. Going to bed early, strict diets, daily workouts—and still, an empty womb. When Mia safely delivered her daughter, the Vance family rejoiced. I felt envious but bitter, and my anxiety pushed me to try IVF. But I never expected that right after my procedure… Mia, who hadn’t even finished her postpartum recovery, announced she was pregnant again. The doctors explicitly said she had an inhospitable womb and severe fertility issues. Even if she conceived, miscarriage was highly likely. Yet she not only got pregnant on the first try, she got pregnant back-to-back. It was too much of a coincidence. Especially since every time I made a major move to get pregnant, she magically had good news. Was all of this really just luck? The week flew by. On the day of the follow-up, Ethan took time off work to go with me. But the doctor only sighed. “Mrs. Hayes, I’m very sorry, but the transfer wasn’t successful.” My eyes instantly reddened with tears. Right at that moment, my phone rang. It was my mother. “Harper! Great news! The doctors checked, and Mia is having a boy!” “The Vance family is going crazy with joy. Our family’s luck is finally turning around!” Unable to bear it a second longer, I hung up on her. Ethan pulled me into his arms, comforting me softly. “You’ve tried your best. We can’t force fate.” I leaned against his chest, tears blurring my vision. My suspicions had grown into a roaring fire. It was all too coincidental. I drank her remedy, she got pregnant. I did IVF, she got pregnant with baby number two. My IVF failed, and she immediately found out she was having a boy.

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After working in outdoor sales for a year, my adopted sister’s normally pale complexion had gotten a little tanned. Heartbroken, my mother dragged her to a high-end department store to buy skincare products. She settled on a luxurious La Prairie set, ringing up at a whopping $4,000. My adopted sister feigned hesitation. “Mom, this is way too expensive. Plus, Chloe has been working for five years and you’ve never bought her anything like this. I’d feel awful using it.” Mom brushed it off completely. “She’s used to roughing it. Buying her something this nice would be a waste. But you’re different. You’ve never suffered a day in your life. You’re my precious baby.” “Then I’ll accept it. Thank you, Mom!” My sister smiled sweetly, turning to shoot me a smug, triumphant look. I just smiled. Right in front of them, I pulled out my phone and called my boss. “Mr. Davis? I’d like to take a year off. I’ll come into the office tomorrow to sign my resignation papers. I’m really sorry for the inconvenience.” Lowering my phone, I looked at my mother, whose face was frozen in disbelief. “Starting tomorrow, I have zero income. Don’t come to me for the household expenses anymore.” “And by the way…” I pointed at the shiny bags in my sister’s hands. “That’s way too expensive. I need to start budgeting immediately, so don’t expect me to swipe my card for it.” Chapter 1 Mom’s lips trembled with rage. She screamed at me right there in the aisle, “Just because I picked out some skincare for Mia, you’re throwing a tantrum? You’re going to quit your job and stop providing for this family?!” I corrected her. “You didn’t just pick it out. You expect me to pay for it.” “What’s the difference?! I raised you for over twenty years! Spending a little of your money is my right!” Mom yelled, pointing a finger in my face. “Chloe Sterling, just because you’ve been working for five years, you think you’re all that? Don’t forget you came out of my womb. Providing for me is your absolute duty!” “Mom, please calm down!” Mia quickly rubbed Mom’s back to soothe her, then turned her big, innocent eyes to me. “Sister, I don’t want the makeup anymore. Just apologize to Mom. Don’t make her angry.” Her expression was so full of grievance, it perfectly painted me as the ultimate villain. “Mom’s health is already fragile. What if you give her a heart attack? I’m begging you, just apologize to her!” Other shoppers at the beauty counters began whispering, shooting me dirty looks. “What an ungrateful daughter. If you have an issue, take it home. Why make a scene in public?” “Didn’t you hear? She hasn’t gotten a gift in five years, so seeing her mom buy something for her sister made her jealous.” “The daughter is immature, but the mom is wrong too. You can’t play favorites like that.” Maybe it was the embarrassment, or maybe her ego couldn’t take the whispers, but Mom suddenly grabbed another luxury set off the counter and shoved it at me. “You’re just jealous, aren’t you? There! Are you happy now?” I let out a soft laugh. “I’m used to roughing it. Using something this expensive is a waste. Besides, it’s my own money anyway.” Seeing my attitude, Mom’s face turned livid. She raised her hand, ready to slap me across the face. Mia rushed to block her, looking at me with red, teary eyes. “Sister, if you’re mad at me, take it out on me! Why are you trying to trigger Mom? She carried you for nine months! She raised you for two decades, suffered so much for you… how can you be so cruel?” Hearing that, the crowd’s sympathy shifted entirely. They conveniently ignored my mother’s blatant favoritism and aimed all their fire at me. “Your mom loves you, she just has a blind spot out of habit!” “Exactly, there’s no mother in the world who doesn’t love her child.” “Look at how upset your mom and sister are. Just drop it.” “Families shouldn’t hold grudges. Are you really going to abandon your own mother?” I stayed dead silent. Mia shoved the skincare set into my hands. “Sister, Mom neglected you in the past, but it won’t happen again! From now on, whatever I have, you’ll get a share too.” I stared down at the exorbitant boxes in my hands, my tone dripping with sarcasm. “So, I’m supposed to thank you for your charity?” Mia’s tears spilled over. “Sister, how could you think that? I’ve always seen you as my real sister. I never wanted to fight you for anything. I just want to stay by Mom and Dad’s side, take care of them, and be a good daughter. I don’t understand why you have so much hostility toward me!” She sobbed uncontrollably, wiping her tears like a broken doll. “Mia!” Mom’s eyes overflowed with heartache. She pulled Mia behind her like a mother bear protecting her cub, glaring at me. “Chloe Sterling, there is a limit to your tantrums! You clearly don’t want this family anymore, and you clearly don’t want me as a mother!” “Get out. Get out of my sight right now.” “I should be the one to leave,” Mia choked out. She suddenly dropped to her knees right on the pristine department store floor. “Mom, thank you for raising me all these years. I’m an unfilial daughter. I can’t stay by your side anymore.” “Mia!” Mom tried to grab her hand, but Mia dodged it. Weeping, she stumbled toward the exit. Watching this dramatic display, the crowd looked at me with pure disgust. “She really forced her sister out. How venomous.” “What goes on in her head? Ruining a perfectly good family just to satisfy her own ego?” “It’s just a skincare set! Sure, it’s pricey, but making such a huge fuss over it? She clearly hasn’t faced enough real-world hardships.” Listening to their verbal daggers, I kept my face totally indifferent. I pointed at the skincare set Mia had dropped on the counter and looked at my mom. “So, we’re not buying it? If not, let’s go. I need to head to the office to hand over my projects so I can sign my resignation papers tomorrow.” Mom stared at me in disbelief. “You’re still quitting?!” “Obviously. When I say I’m going to do something, I do it.” “You…” Mom pointed a shaking finger at me, so furious she couldn’t even speak. Mia, who had just reached the store entrance, suddenly spun around and screamed at me. “Chloe! I’m already leaving just like you wanted! Why are you still quitting?! Are you really not going to be happy until you put Mom in the hospital today?!” I looked at her blankly. “Didn’t you say you were leaving? Why do you care?” “You… I…” Mia’s face flushed deep crimson. The next second, she fell backward, fainting dead away on the floor. “Call 911!” “Help her up!” “Check her pulse, see if you can wake her up!” The crowd devolved into absolute chaos, shouting and panicking. “It’s a sin!” Mom wailed, slapping her thighs as she glared at me with pure hatred. “Chloe Sterling, if anything happens to Mia today, I will never forgive you! Get the hell out! I never want to see your face again!” I was more than happy to leave. If I stayed, I would have had to ride in the ambulance and fake a worried, anxious expression. I really didn’t have the acting chops for that. But halfway home, I got a furious call from my dad demanding I come to the hospital. The second I walked into the hallway, Dad marched up to me without a word and slapped me across the face so hard my ears rang. Then, he grabbed a stack of medical reports from a nearby table and hurled them at my face. “Look! Open your eyes and look! Mia has terminal cancer. The doctor says she has three months to live at most. Are you happy now?!” Mia had terminal cancer? I froze, ignoring the stinging in my cheek, and instinctively looked toward the hospital bed. Mia was lying there, her face paper-white. Dad’s eyes were bloodshot as he roared at me. “Keep throwing your tantrums! Keep making a scene until you kill me and your mother too! Then this whole house will finally belong to you!” A few of the department store clerks who had followed the ambulance looked at me with venomous sneers. “Are you happy now? You won’t have to worry about your mom playing favorites anymore, because soon she’ll only have you.” “Why aren’t you throwing a fit anymore? Feeling guilty now that you know she’s dying? Where was this attitude earlier?” “People like you deserve to live in the shadow of guilt for the rest of your miserable life.” I remained expressionless. “Chloe, you have to save your sister.” Mom, who had been tightly gripping Mia’s hand, suddenly let go and dropped to her knees in front of me. “I’m begging you! It’s all my fault, I was biased! Blame me, but please, don’t abandon your sister!” I shook my head. “Once I quit my job, I won’t have an income. Even if I wanted to help, I couldn’t.” The entire hospital room froze. The silence was suffocating, like the exact second before a volcano erupts. Then, the eruption came. Dad looked at me like he wanted to rip me apart. “Quitting! Quitting! That’s all you know how to say! Mia has been in our family for over a decade, has she ever done a single thing to hurt you?! Now she’s dying, she desperately needs money for treatments, and you’re washing your hands of her?! Is your heart made of stone?! Do you care about family at all?!” Mom lunged at me, trying to claw my face. A nurse managed to hold her back as she thrashed wildly. “Let me go! Let me kill her! How did I raise a daughter like this?! If I knew she’d turn out this way, I would have drowned her the day she was born!” The retail clerks looked at me like I was the devil incarnate, hurling every curse in the book at me. “You’re the one who should be dying in that hospital bed! You’re a waste of oxygen!” “Karma is real. God will strike you down for this.” “You better go pray at a church, or you’re going to get hit by a bus the second you step outside.” I looked at them. They glared right back, completely unfazed. I knew for a fact that if we weren’t in a hospital, they would have physically assaulted me. “Thanks for the advice. I’ll be sure to stop by a church.” I gave a polite smile to the clerk who told me to get hit by a bus, turned around, and walked right out of the room. Thanks to the internet, by the next morning, the story of me throwing a fit over a skincare set and putting my “dying” adopted sister in the hospital had gone completely viral. The moment I arrived at the office, my closest work friend dragged me into the breakroom. “Chloe, is the stuff online true?! Did you really cut off your mom and put your sister in the hospital? That doesn’t sound like you at all!” “If it’s fake, you need to post a video defending yourself right now. You don’t realize how huge this is. It’s trending everywhere, and the whole company is talking about it.” I just smiled. My coworker was frantic. “Chloe, don’t brush this off! Before you got here, I heard HR talking. They said you’re damaging the company’s public image and they’re preparing to discipline you.” “You’ve grinded for five years to get to this position. You’ve eaten so much dirt to get here. Don’t throw it all away over family drama!” I paused, then laughed. “The company wants to discipline me? Perfect. I was just about to resign anyway.” My coworker choked on her coffee, her eyes going wide. “You’re quitting?! Chloe, when did you get so impulsive? I know your mom favors Mia. Worst case scenario, you rent your own apartment and stop visiting them! You don’t need to quit your job!” “I’m warning you, if you quit, you have to start from zero. Do you even have the energy for that anymore?” I was just about to say, Of course I do, when my phone buzzed. It was a text from Mr. Davis, the CEO. [Come to my office.] I patted my coworker’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.” I turned and headed straight for the executive suite. Mr. Davis didn’t ask me about the viral rumors. He just looked at me and asked, “Are you really resigning?” I nodded. He tapped his fingers on his mahogany desk, silent for a moment. “Is it because of your mother and sister?” I didn’t answer. Mr. Davis smiled. “I understand. Ignore the office gossip. I am not approving your resignation. If you need a break, take an extended leave of absence. Your position will be waiting for you.” “Mr. Davis…” I barely got the words out before he raised a hand to stop me. “You’ve worked under me for five years. I know your character perfectly well. I trust my own judgment, and I trust that you can handle your family situation. I expect you back when you’re ready.” I sat in stunned silence for a long time. Finally, I took a deep breath. “Mr. Davis, thank you for your trust. I won’t make you wait too long. But I’m going to need a favor first.” “Name it.” “I need your legal team’s help. I need to freeze all my joint accounts with my parents and lock down my personal assets. I don’t want anyone touching a single cent of my money but me.” Mr. Davis frowned. “Reason?” My expression went ice cold. “Because I refuse to let the money I bled for end up padding someone else’s pockets.” He stared at me intently, his gaze sharp. I met his eyes without flinching. After a long moment, he nodded. “Done. I’ll make a call to a friend at the bank and get our lawyers on it.” “Thank you, Mr. Davis.” By noon, my dad called. His voice was trembling with rage. “Is this your doing?!” Mom’s frantic voice echoed in the background. “Chloe! The bank won’t let us withdraw a single penny! Mia is waiting for her life-saving surgery! She’s called you her sister for over a decade, you can’t just watch her die!” I replied calmly. “Dad, Mom. Wait for me at the hospital for thirty minutes. I’ll explain everything.” I hung up the phone and immediately went online. I drafted a quick post. [Want to know the truth behind the viral video? Come to City Hospital, Room 402. The truth drops in thirty minutes.] Because of the massive controversy, I was highly trending. The moment the post went live, it rocketed to the top of the timeline. People who had witnessed the department store drama commented that they were driving over immediately to hear my excuses. Several large influencers promised to live-stream the confrontation, and local streamers were already rushing to the hospital. Thirty minutes later. The small hospital room was packed shoulder-to-shoulder. When I walked in, the “witnesses” from the store glared at me with absolute contempt. “Quite the spectacle. Let’s see what kind of lies you spin today.” “You have some nerve talking about ‘the truth’. We watched the whole thing happen with our own eyes.” “Stop wasting our time and start talking.” Mia was leaning weakly against the headboard, her face pale. “Sister, what are you doing? Are you worried that I’m ruining your reputation? You really don’t have to do this. I was planning to go live and clear your name as soon as I felt better.” “Me getting terminal cancer is just my bad luck. It has nothing to do with you. I never blamed you, Sister. I’ve always loved you.” Hearing that, the entire room melted with sympathy. Mom wiped her tears frantically. “Mia, stop talking. You’re going to break my heart!” Dad’s eyes were bloodshot as he yelled at me. “Chloe! Do you hear her?! Even now, Mia is thinking about you! If you have a single shred of conscience left, unfreeze the accounts and pay for her surgery!” I looked at my dad, my voice dead calm. “If you still want me to pay after I’m done talking, I will do it without a second word.” With that, I turned to face Mia. I let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Mia, do you really see me as a sister? Or do you just see the money I’ve made over the last five years?” “And second… are you really dying of terminal cancer?”

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“Mom, you’ve spent this entire marriage walking on eggshells. Get a divorce. I’ll take care of you from now on.” My mother fell silent for a long time. Finally, she decided to give my father one last chance. “If he buys me a bouquet of flowers for International Women’s Day this year, instead of his usual logic, I’ll drop it. I’ll keep the peace and stay with him.” I could see she still held onto a sliver of hope. Not wanting to see her disappointed, I bombarded my dad with texts every day, reminding him to buy flowers. He promised he would. When the day finally arrived, Dad was uncharacteristically generous. He bought my grandmother a heavy solid gold bracelet, and got my sister-in-law a gold necklace. He even venmoed me $1,200 for high-end skincare. But when it came to my mother. He pulled out a $10 bottle of generic, store-brand laundry detergent from a supermarket clearance bin. … The moment he set the detergent down. The smile on my mother’s face froze. The last bit of light in her eyes went out. Dad didn’t notice. He just grinned, nudging her. “What are you standing there for? Take your gift and put it in the laundry room.” Mom didn’t take it. She just stared at the bottle. It was the same brand. Same blue bottle, same red “Buy One Get One Free” sticker. For thirty years. Every single Women’s Day, this is what she received. Dad finally sensed something was wrong. He frowned. “What? Not good enough? I got the economy size this time. Cost two bucks more than last year. Guaranteed to wash more clothes and last longer!” I couldn’t stand listening to this, and I couldn’t bear to see the look on my mother’s face, so I tried to create a diversion. “Dad, did you forget to bring out the rest of her gifts?” He looked like he just remembered something and slapped his knee. “Right! I did prepare another gift for your mother.” A flicker of hope returned to my mother’s eyes. But it vanished instantly when she saw what was in his hand. It wasn’t flowers. It was a pair of yellow rubber dish gloves. “The day before yesterday, when you were doing dishes, I saw your old gloves had a hole. I walked past the hardware store today and picked these up for you. Happy?” He waved the gloves, looking proud of himself. “Sarah, you always say I don’t know what you want, that I don’t care. I bought you these gloves, didn’t I? How is that not caring?” My mother’s lips were already trembling. She was clearly shaking with rage. But she said nothing. I was furious, too. I had texted him every single day, explicitly telling him to buy flowers for her, to not let her down. He had promised he would. Hell, even today when he was shopping, he sent me photos of roses and lilies. Asking me: “Sunny, which do you think Sarah would prefer? Roses or lilies?” So why did he still end up buying laundry soap! I couldn’t help but raise my voice. “Dad, Mom doesn’t want detergent, and she doesn’t want gloves. She wants flowers. I texted you every day. You promised me. Why are we back to laundry detergent?” As I spoke, I pulled up our chat history. [Sunny: Dad, Mom wants flowers for Women’s Day. Make sure you get them!] [Dad: Yeah, got it.] My father finally seemed to recall this. But his expression immediately soured. “What use are flowers? they’re dead in two days.” “Besides, the markup for holidays is ridiculous. $100 for a dozen roses? That money buys ten bottles of detergent. Spending money on flowers is a waste.” “A waste of money? How is buying a gift for Mom a waste of money?” My voice turned icy. “Grandma’s gold bracelet cost thousands. Chloe’s gold necklace cost over a thousand. Even I got $1,200 for skincare. How is a $100 bouquet considered a waste?” “That’s completely different!” My father shot back without hesitation. “Your grandmother raised me. My money is hers; it’s a no-brainer. I’d give her every penny if she needed it.” “Your sister-in-law Chloe just gave birth to my grandson. She’s a hero in this family; it’s only right to reward her. That thousand bucks was worth every penny!” “And you. You need to land a rich husband one day. If you don’t take care of your face, how is anyone going to look at you? Skincare is a long-term investment!” “As for your mother…” He paused. His tone was casual, laced with a familiar contempt. “She’s a housewife… she’s eaten my food and lived under my roof for years. What has she actually contributed that makes her deserving of a $100 bouquet?” All color drained from my mother’s face. She slowly lifted her head, looking at my father. Her eyes were drowning in tears. “So in your eyes, my thirty years in this house aren’t even worth $100.” My father didn’t care about the pain in her eyes. It barely registered. He looked back down at his plate, helping himself to seconds. “I’m just telling the truth. For years, you just wash clothes and cook food. You haven’t exactly made any money!” My mother opened her mouth, about to say something. But she closed it. My father was satisfied with that. That’s how my mother always was. She didn’t argue, didn’t scream, didn’t make scenes. She was a doormat. Letting everyone walk all over her. He assumed this time was no different. Dad kicked the detergent and the gloves toward her feet. “Grab your stuff. Let’s have a nice family dinner. Don’t ruin the night.” My mother stood up obediently. Everyone thought she was going to pick up the soap and the gloves. Even I thought she was going to cave again. But she didn’t. She didn’t even look at the detergent. She turned and walked straight into the master bedroom. A minute later, she walked out pulling a small carry-on suitcase. The sound of the wheels rolling filled the silent room, finally stopping next to me. “Sunny, let’s go.” My mother’s voice was calm. Her eyes were incredibly determined. If her rim were not still red, you almost wouldn’t have known how heartbroken she had just been. The entire family was stunned. Grandma was the first one to react. “Sarah, what do you think you’re doing?” “It’s International Women’s Day. Mark got you gifts. What more do you want?” “So he didn’t buy flowers. Big deal. You have your own money, buy them yourself if you want them that bad. Are you really going to ruin a family celebration over this?” Chloe, my sister-in-law, awkwardly touched the gold necklace on her neck, urging quietly: “Mom, you know Dad. He’s always blunt. You’ve put up with him for thirty years. There’s no need to get dramatic over one bouquet.” “Besides, Dad bought detergent and gloves. They’re practical. Isn’t that better than dead flowers? It just shows he’s a down-to-earth man looking out for the household.” She forced a small smile. “When I’m older, if my husband still buys me useful stuff like this, I’d actually find it quite touching.” Chloe nudged my brother’s arm. “Right, honey?” My brother jumped in immediately. “Exactly. Detergent and gloves are better than flowers.” “You don’t make any money, you should probably spend less. Try to save Dad some money.” “Besides, you don’t work, you don’t go out. You have chores and you’re helping with the baby. Even if we bought flowers, you wouldn’t have time to look at them.” Hearing this, my mother’s shoulders sagged. Her face turned pale again. It was as if she was putting back on her mask of silent obedience. Seeing everyone backing him up, my dad grew bolder. “You hear that? I’m not the only one who thinks so.” “If you really feel like you have it so hard, then go out and get a job.” “Bring in ten grand a month, and I’ll buy you flowers every single day. If you can’t, then you don’t get to be picky!” Hearing this, I couldn’t take it anymore. I flipped the entire table. If they wanted to treat my mother, who made this entire meal, like trash, then none of them were going to eat her food. Dishes crashed to the floor. Food was everywhere. Everyone was paralyzed. But they were about to get an even bigger shock. “You ungrateful son-of-a-bitch.” I slapped my brother across the face. The slap was loud and vicious. His right cheek turned red instantly. My brother clutched his face, looking completely confused. “Have you lost your mind?” I looked him dead in the eye. “I’ve lost my mind?” “I think the four of you are the ones who have lost your minds!” “No, actually, I think you’ve lost your goddamn souls!” Grandma saw the slap mark on my brother’s face and exploded. “You little bitch, who do you think you are putting your hands on him? If you actually hurt him, I’ll kill you!” I ignored her and glared at my brother. “You say Mom doesn’t make any money, so let me ask you: when you graduated and had that $20,000 credit card debt, who paid it off?” My brother’s face turned white. “Mom sold her engagement ring to pay your debt. You didn’t tell her to ‘save Dad money’ then, did you? You didn’t think she was useless then.” “But now that you have drained her, now that you have used her to pay off your debt, she is just a cheap housewife, right?” “And you.” I looked at Chloe, my sister-in-law, who was muttering insults under her breath. “You say detergent and gloves are better than flowers. You said you want my brother to send them to you one day. Let me ask you this: two years ago, when Mark actually did bring you laundry detergent as a prank gift, who went screaming to their parents’ house? Who almost divorced him?” Chloe’s face turned bright red. “That… that was different!” “How was it different?” I let out a cold laugh. “Every single year my brother gives you jewelry, and the one time he pranks you with detergent, you were livid, ready to end it. But my mother has endured this disrespect for thirty years, and when she finally cannot take it anymore, you tell her she’s dramatic? You say it’s trivial? Are you even a human being?” “This family, my mother, has done so much for you specifically.” My voice grew louder. “When you were recovering from childbirth, who took care of you?” “Your own mother came for seven days and went back because she was tired. My mother, terrified you would have postpartum health issues, waited on you hand and foot for forty-two days!” “Four meals a day, getting up in the middle of the night to change the baby, to feed the baby. No other daughter-in-law in this city has had such a happy, stress-free postpartum experience!” Chloe opened her mouth, but not a single word came out. I kept going. “When you went back to work, you had it so easy. Every day you just came home and ignored your son. The second the baby cried, you threw him into my mother’s arms. When you’re off work, you and my brother go on romantic vacations!” “What about my mother? Has she had a single day to herself since that baby was born? And after all of this?” “Has a single one of you even thanked her? No, instead, you see the injustice she’s facing and you ignore it, trying to force her to be miserable for the sake of your comfort!” When I screamed that last sentence, Grandma couldn’t handle it. “Enough! Every grandmother helps out with the grandchild. Why is it different with your mother?” “Every grandmother helps, so why weren’t you one of them?” I sneered at her. “When my mother was pregnant, where were you?” “Didn’t you claim your back hurt and you couldn’t serve people?” “My mother, pregnant with my brother, then me, still had to cook, clean, and do all the household chores herself.” “How come you didn’t have any of this ‘help’ then?” Grandma’s face turned multiple colors. “I… I was actually in bad health then.” “In bad health, yet you could go to bingo every night? In bad health, yet you could eat three huge meals a day? In bad health, yet you could scream insults at my mother without pausing for a breath? In bad health…” Grandma was about to faint from my retorts. My father finally couldn’t help but jump in, pointing his finger at my nose. “Enough!” “Who the hell do you think you are? Your mother hasn’t said a word, yet you are here putting on a show attacking everyone. Who do you think gave you the right?” Just as he finished, my mother grabbed my hand and said, loud and clear: “The right came from me!” The entire room went silent. Everyone’s eyes were locked on my mother. For thirty years, she had always been the quiet one. Silent when accused, silent when ignored, silent when abused. But this time, she spoke for herself. My dad couldn’t take her resisting him, feeling like he was losing face. His face turned dark, and he angrily kicked a dining chair over. “Sarah Miller, say that again. Who gave that bitch the right to come in here and make a scene?” My dad’s eyes were bloodshot, looking like a wild animal ready to bite. But my mother looked him in the eye without a hint of fear. She repeated herself, slow and clear. “I did!” “And.” She paused, looking at me with nothing but love. “Sunny is not a bitch!” “She is my daughter, my heart. She is the only person in this family who truly cares about me, loves me, and stands by me no matter what.” As she spoke, she calmly glanced around the room—at my brother, his wife, and Grandma. She said nothing to them directly, but they all instinctively looked away, unable to meet her gaze. “Fine. Since you say she’s the only one who treats you well, then when you leave with her tonight, don’t ever come back! From now on, you let this recent college grad support you!” “If she runs out of money, if she can’t feed you, and you are starving out in the streets, you aren’t allowed to come back. And don’t you dare call me, asking me for a dime!” As he spoke, his gaze was fixed on my mother. He assumed he would see her panic, see her immediately regret her actions. But he was wrong. My mother didn’t even blink. He was surprised for a second. But he immediately dismissed her reaction, deciding she just had no grasp of money. He began calculating on his fingers. “Your daughter just graduated. Her monthly salary is what, $5,000 max?” “Rent is at least $1,500, food is at least $800. She has a car, so that’s a $400 payment plus insurance. Utilities, phone, gas… that’s another $500.” “After all that, she still has to support a useless housewife like you who can’t make a dime. Do you really think that’s enough?” He finished, let out a cold laugh.

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On the first day we started dating, I confessed to my boyfriend that I had an ex-husband. He breathed a sigh of relief, looking like he wanted to say something but held back. It wasn’t until we signed our marriage license that he confessed he had been hiding two things from me. First, he had secretly investigated my past and knew all about my marriage history long before I told him. Second, he didn’t graduate from an average state college. Just like my ex-husband, he was a Harvard alum. He lied because he was terrified I would reject him if I knew the truth. I was so furious I kicked him out of the apartment that very day. But at midnight, a frantic call from his best friend jolted me awake: “Sister-in-law! Nathan is completely wasted! Hurry up and come to VIP Room 3201 to drag him home!” Swallowing my grogginess and irritation, I pushed open the gold-rimmed doors of the private lounge and pasted on my best professional, fake smile. “Sorry for the interruption. I’m just here to pick up my husband.” The next second, the chaotic noise in the room screeched to a dead halt. Dozens of the city’s brightest elites turned to look at me. Their eyes nailed me to the spot. Sitting dead center was a man in an immaculate suit, his features sharp and freezing cold. He was slowly running his thumb along the rim of his whiskey glass. “…Chloe Thorne?” Someone finally broke the suffocating silence. “This is a Harvard alumni mixer, not a community college shelter.” “Wait, is this the legendary ‘Chloe-ism’ girl? She doesn’t even look like much. Ezra actually tanked a Philosophy final for her, writing ‘Chloe-ism’ instead of ‘Objectivism’ for the entire exam. Almost gave the professor a heart attack.” A roar of mocking laughter erupted in the room. “She schemed her way into her stepbrother’s bed to force a marriage, and now Ezra’s new fiancée is a Yale PhD. How do you even have the nerve to show your face here?” They didn’t know. My ex-husband, Ezra Vance, used to be dead last in our high school class. He grinded his way to the top of the academic ladder, and he did it all for me. But none of that mattered anymore. The past was dead and buried. Facing the searing judgment of the room, I didn’t crumble like they expected. I just calmly said: “I’m not here to celebrate with you elites. I’m here to take my husband home.” Ezra finally lifted his eyes. They were dark and heavy. “Chloe, we divorced three years ago.” I let a genuine, soft smile touch my lips. “I know.” “That’s exactly why I didn’t say I was here to pick you up, Mr. Vance.” “So shameless. Still trying to ride Ezra’s coattails even after the divorce.” A few stifled giggles echoed through the lounge. Carter Hayes lit a cigarette and looked at me lazily. “Never seen someone try so hard to play the other woman.” Carter used to be Ezra’s and my best friend in high school. He used to be the person who treated me second-best in the whole world. But when my marriage with Ezra was falling apart, Carter didn’t hesitate to take Ezra’s side. Because the girl Carter was secretly in love with happened to be the third person in my marriage. And Carter had been helping Ezra hide their affair the entire time. I was the only one kept in the dark, playing the absolute fool from start to finish. “Carter, knock it off,” Ezra snapped coldly, his lips pressed into a tight line. Carter refused to back down, crushing his cigarette in the ashtray with an impatient scowl. “What’s wrong with saying it? An idiot like Chloe Thorne can’t even hold a candle to a brilliant scholar like Valerie.” “Only you would settle for a dummy like her. She dragged you down for years.” Ezra locked eyes with me, his voice dangerously low. “Chloe isn’t stupid.” Chloe isn’t stupid. Hearing that come out of the mouth of a certified genius like Ezra was actually quite comical. But sixteen-year-old Chloe used to believe it. The summer before high school, my mom married Ezra’s dad, blending our broken families. Ezra and I were the same age and ended up at the same public high school. We were even in the same homeroom. He was the worst student in the grade; I was somewhere in the middle. Ezra hated me, so he never spoke a word to me. I’d constantly see him getting into fistfights and ending up in the principal’s office. Then, my mom would have to come to school, bowing her head and absorbing the insults from the administration. One night, I went to the kitchen for water and saw my mom sitting on the couch in the dark, crying. “Clo, what do I have to do to make Ezra accept me?” I didn’t have an answer. I only knew that after that night, my quiet coexistence with Ezra turned into a full-blown war. I put hot sauce in his sodas, poured dirty mop water into his backpack, and spiked his lunches with laxatives. Ezra cornered me and laid down the law: “Got any more tricks? Let me tell you right now, Chloe—if you don’t kill me, I’m going to ruin your mother.” We stayed at each other’s throats for over half a year. I thought I would hate Ezra Vance for the rest of my life. But in the end, he became the only person in the world who truly loved me. Our war ended the night the domestic violence started. Ezra’s dad beat my mom so badly she had to be hospitalized. As the paramedics loaded her into the ambulance, his dad was still screaming abuse at her. “I chased you for two years! You’re nothing but a pretty face! Completely useless!” My mom was nearly forty. She had been spoiled rotten by my biological father for the first half of her life, so she naturally didn’t have any real-world survival skills. When Ezra heard his dad shouting that, his cold, rebellious facade shattered. He stared at me in shock and muttered: “It wasn’t your mom who seduced my dad…” Ezra had hated my mom because he genuinely believed she was the homewrecker who drove his own mother away. It didn’t matter anymore, because after that day, I didn’t have a mother either. When I brought my mom’s favorite white freesias to the hospital, I found out she had run away. She took nothing with her. She didn’t take me, either. Chloe Thorne was homeless. I had nowhere to go. I was wandering the streets in the dead of night when Ezra found me. His eyes were bloodshot. He looked so furious I thought he was going to hit me, so I curled into a tight ball on the sidewalk. Trembling in fear, I suddenly felt his warm arms wrap tightly around me. It was the first time I ever heard him speak so gently. “Chloe, come home with me.” “From now on, I’ll be your whole world.” I took his outstretched hand and held on for dear life. And from that moment on, at sixteen years old, my entire universe consisted of Ezra Vance. After my mom vanished, Ezra’s dad grew even more violent. Afraid I’d get caught in the crossfire, Ezra moved us both out into a tiny, rundown apartment. Life went on, but everything had changed. I stopped causing trouble, and the sharp, angry edges of Ezra’s personality softened into something gentle. He started spending more and more time studying. I couldn’t help but ask him about it. “You used to hate reading. You skipped class all the time.” He looked at me with total seriousness, then helplessly pinched my cheek. “Chloe, I want to give you a better life.” I looked at the tips of his ears, which were blushing red, and nodded hard. I promised myself I would never drag Ezra down. I studied like my life depended on it, but while Ezra miraculously skyrocketed from the bottom of the class to Valedictorian, I was still stuck in the middle of the pack. Ezra would stay up until midnight tutoring me. I stared at the calculus problems and shook my head in despair. He sighed. “Chloe, you really are a dummy.” “But I love how clumsy you are. It’s too cute.” As sleep finally overtook me, my pen slipped from my hand. I mumbled into the desk, “Ezra… can you walk a little slower? I’m never going to catch up to you.” Ezra told me I would never have to chase him. He promised he would wait for me forever. He didn’t keep that promise. Later on, my clumsiness and average mind became the things he despised the most about me. I became a nuisance. “Still not stupid?” Carter toyed with his silver lighter, picking up the conversation in the VIP room. “You worked yourself to the bone tutoring her, and she still only managed to get into some safety-school state college.” I glanced around the room, still not seeing my husband, Nathan. Nathan actually did go to Harvard with Ezra, just in a different college program. They probably wouldn’t hang in the same circles anyway. I figured Nathan must have texted me the wrong room number. I had zero energy to rehash old drama. “Sorry to bother you all,” I said, turning on my heel to leave. I had texted Nathan, but he hadn’t replied, and his phone was going straight to voicemail. I decided to just head home first. Before I could reach the door handle, a hand clamped down on my wrist. “Little sister, forgive me, okay?” Ezra kept his eyes lowered, hiding an emotion I couldn’t read. Little sister. That nickname used to make my face burn. It used to be our favorite forbidden, flirtatious joke, especially since Ezra was usually so rigid and proper. But eventually, that exact “stepbrother/stepsister” dynamic was the weapon used to destroy me. “Ezra, are you addicted to playing the victim?” I shook his hand off, my face blank. “I don’t have a brother.” As the tension in the room thickened, a light scoff shattered the awkwardness. “Chloe, I never expected to see you here.” Valerie clicked over in her designer heels, as haughty and arrogant as ever. In the past, her mere presence would have intimidated me. I used to envy her, look up to her, and feel an uncontrollable wave of inferiority around her. But now, after that wretched history had burned me out entirely, all that was left was total indifference. “Chloe, why don’t you come home with Ezra and me? Your mother misses you so much,” Valerie said sweetly. Even I was surprised by how calmly I replied after three years. “I don’t have a mother.” My stepbrother. My mother. They both chose Valerie. And I threw them away a long time ago, too. Valerie grabbed my wrist, “accidentally” letting her sleeve slip to reveal a vintage emerald bracelet. It was the heirloom Ezra’s mother had left him. I wore that bracelet for ten years. My entire relationship with Ezra only lasted ten years. Carter was right. I really was an idiot. Even with Ezra tutoring me with everything he had, I only barely made it into a state school. Meanwhile, Ezra aced his SATs, became the top scorer in the state, and went to Harvard. We were both in Massachusetts, not too far apart. Even though we couldn’t be together every single day, our lives were tightly woven together. It was the simplest kind of happiness, and a memory I will never be able to fully erase. Ezra was handsome and brilliant. Everyone wanted him. But he gave me absolute security. During college, I visited him on campus all the time. He was so famous that anything he did caused a stir. Eventually, the online campus forums started gossiping that I wasn’t good enough for him. They said I was nothing but a pretty face—no talent, no background, just a beautiful idiot trying to cling to a god. Ezra had already made our relationship public. When he saw those threads, he was furious. He said no one understood how wonderful I was. So, during a massive Philosophy final, he replaced every mention of “Objectivism” with “Chloe-ism.” He nearly failed the class and was publicly reprimanded by the dean for being lovesick. The incident made waves across the entire university. Back then, Ezra wanted the whole world to know I was his girlfriend. But when it came time to actually get married, he said: “Chloe, let’s keep the marriage a secret for now.” “Give me a few years. When I make a real name for myself, I’ll give you the wedding of the century.” I agreed. By our fourth anniversary, Ezra was wildly successful. I never got the dream wedding I was waiting for. Instead, I got his infidelity. On the day of our fourth anniversary, Ezra exploded in a terrifying rage. Because I had “lost” the emerald bracelet he gave me. He stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door. It was the first time in his life he had ever spoken to me with such venom. It was pouring rain outside. I searched every single place I had been to. I eventually remembered the tiny, rundown apartment we lived in during high school. Ezra had actually bought that apartment years later, because the walls were covered with thousands of polaroids from our three years there. The moment I pushed the door open. I saw Ezra pinning another woman to the bed. My scalp went numb. I lost my voice instantly. I knew who she was. Valerie. Ezra had mentioned her before, but barely. At first, he told me her dad essentially forced her into his tech startup, and he thought she was going to be a spoiled nuisance. But later, he started mentioning how capable she was. How brilliant she was. And it was right around that time that Ezra started calling me stupid. Our shared topics dried up. Ezra would always sigh and say: “Can you stop asking? Even if I explained it, you wouldn’t understand.” “Chloe, you’re so dense.” I had genuinely been happy that he found a business partner who clicked with him. But in that apartment, Valerie was wearing my emerald bracelet, staring at me with a triumphant smirk. I had been tortured by guilt, crawling on my hands and knees like a dog looking for that bracelet. I didn’t lose it. Ezra had taken it and handed it to someone else. My ears were ringing. My body lost all its strength. Operating purely on instinct, I grabbed a heavy picture frame off the nightstand and hurled it at them. Ezra shielded Valerie in his arms, his eyes blazing red. “Chloe, you’re out of your mind!” The man who once promised to be my whole world. He shoved me violently to the floor. My hands were covered in bloody glass shards. The photo inside the shattered frame was the first picture Ezra and I ever took together. He had his arms wrapped around me, looking so proud, like he was showing off a prize. But now, the frame was broken, and the eyes of the man standing in front of me were filled with nothing but disgust. Before I could even process the heartbreak, another bomb dropped. “Chloe, can you stop throwing a tantrum? You are suffocating. It’s no wonder your own mother didn’t want you!” It turned out my mother had remarried. She married Valerie’s father. She had spent the last ten years doting on Valerie like her own flesh and blood. My ten years of holding out hope for a family had officially morphed into a nightmare. Later, Ezra demanded a divorce. I refused to give them what they wanted, but I couldn’t fight them. Everyone I loved had turned their weapons on me. My husband. My best friend. And my mother. Ezra locked me inside our Boston house. For nearly a week, he unleashed all his pent-up frustration on me. “I’m not signing. You want to marry her? Keep dreaming,” I spat. At that point, the marriage certificate felt like the only card I had left to play. I was as stubborn as a lunatic. A week later, a blurred, pixelated video leaked online. The audio was crystal clear. “Big brother, I love you the most. Love your Clo a little more, okay?” It was an intimate video from years ago, back when he traveled for work constantly. He had begged me for it, saying he needed something to comfort him when I wasn’t there. Ezra was usually so terrifyingly straight-laced, so when he asked for a dirty video, I was both embarrassed and shocked. I only did it for him. But Ezra and Valerie were master manipulators of PR. That single leaked audio clip pushed me into the crosshairs of public outrage, framing me as a psychotic, obsessed step-sister who seduced him. And the final blow was dealt by Ezra himself, who let the narrative run wild. As I lay numbly in bed, watching the entire world—including my family and friends—condemn me, Valerie came to visit. She told me she had confessed her feelings to Ezra back in college. He had rejected her then. His reason? He said he wasn’t good enough for her yet. He asked if she would be willing to wait a few years for him. Wait until he was powerful enough to stand beside her in the light. That very night, I gave up. I agreed to the divorce. As I signed the papers, I thought about the past. Sixteen-year-old Ezra, full of fire, promising to give me a better life. But twenty-six-year-old Ezra’s future never had Chloe Thorne in it to begin with. I wiped my tears and forced myself to ask him one last question. “What was I, then? Just someone to settle for?” “Or was I just a placeholder to keep you warm until you were ready for the woman you actually loved?”

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My father arranged a marriage for me on his deathbed. The groom was Weston Cole. If you follow Wall Street, you know the name. He’s the coldest, most ruthless venture capitalist in New York. Before I moved into his penthouse, I set three strict rules for myself: Keep it business. Collect the dividends, forget the feelings. Total autonomy. He does his thing; I do mine. If a “True Love” ever appears at his door, I pack my bags immediately—provided I get double the severance pay. Weston seemed perfectly satisfied with how pragmatic I was. Until the day a teenage boy knocked on our door. He had Weston’s eyes and a striking resemblance around the jawline. He looked at me calmly and said: “Hi. I’m Weston’s son. I’m seventeen.” I froze for exactly two seconds. My first thought: Wow, Weston really plays the long game. Kept this a secret for seventeen years. My second thought: I need to mentally review my prenup. What was Rule Number Three again? Oh, right! If True Love shows up, I leave with double the money. A son counts as proof of True Love, right? I immediately stepped aside, opening the door wider. My tone was strictly professional. “Come on in. He’s not off work yet, so have a seat. Can I get you anything to drink?” The boy clearly didn’t expect this reaction. He hesitated. “You’re… not angry?” Angry? Why would I be angry? I was practically praying for Weston to have an affair. Shove a few dozen million in severance my way, and I’m instantly living my best life as a rich, single divorcée! I looked down as he changed into indoor slippers. At seventeen, his frame was nearly that of a grown man. He had Weston’s features, but his vibe was much cleaner, less cynical. “What’s your name?” “Leo.” I grabbed a bottle of fiji water from the fridge and handed it to him, offering some comfort. “Look, Leo, your dad and I have a contract marriage. It’s mutually beneficial business. I have no standing to be angry about his private life.” He gripped the water bottle, his Adam’s apple moving as he swallowed hard. He fell silent. I sat on the single armchair opposite him, observing him across the coffee table. The resemblance really was uncanny. It took me back three years. To the moments before my father passed away, gripping Weston’s hand, entrusting me to him. The Coles owed my father a life debt. Weston repaid it with this marriage. The night before we signed the papers, he handed me a prenup. I skimmed it, then held up three fingers. “I have three conditions to add.” “One: No romance. Strictly profit-sharing.” “Two: You play your games; I play mine.” “Three: If you ever want to bring a True Love home, I pave the way immediately. But the severance pay doubles.” He looked down and signed the agreement without a moment’s hesitation. “Deal.” From start to finish, the word “love” was never spoken. After the wedding, we kept separate rooms and separate schedules. He spent twenty days a month flying internationally. During the other ten, I saw him less often than his secretary did. Three years ago, at City Hall, he walked in first. Signed, stamped. He didn’t look back at me once throughout the entire process. It didn’t feel like getting married. It felt like closing a business merger. Weston got home while I was curled up on the sofa watching a reality show. His footsteps passed the sofa, then stopped for two seconds. I turned the volume up two notches and kept watching. He didn’t go upstairs. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him standing there, his gaze heavy on me. “Who did you see today?” I paused the TV and sat up straight, putting on a serious face. “Your intel moves fast, Mr. Cole. A very good-looking kid. Says he’s your son. Nice job on the secrecy, by the way.” The air went dead for a few seconds. His face was expressionless. But he didn’t deny it. “I’ll handle this.” I nodded, got up from the sofa, and paused as I passed him. “Great. If you need me to cooperate with the divorce proceedings, just say the word.” I hesitated, but couldn’t help dropping a reminder. “You do still remember the double severance clause in the contract, right?” He looked down at me, his eyes incredibly dark and intense. I waited a few seconds, but the atmosphere was getting weird, so I turned and bolted upstairs. I shut my bedroom door and leaned back against it, staring up at the ceiling light. Since the wedding, he’d been so busy, always gone. I thought our marriage was a blank slate, clean as paper. Turns out, the man had his True Love locked down ages ago, and even produced an heir. I looked down at my phone. Opened my banking app. The pre-marital transfer was sitting brightly in my asset details. $10 million. Double that is $20 million. But he hid a son for seventeen years before letting it leak. That counts as fraud, right? Asking for another $5 million on top doesn’t seem unreasonable, does it? At 1:30 AM, I was still tossing and turning, unable to sleep. After vacillating for ages, I opened my contacts and scrolled to [Lawyer Daniels]. I’d added him three years ago when I signed the prenup. His profile picture was a Golden Retriever. I opened the chat. Type. Delete. Type. Delete. Finally, I just sent: [Mr. Daniels, I need a consultation. If it’s inconvenient, feel free to ignore this.] He replied instantly: [Go ahead.] Talk about professional dedication. I carefully phrased my words. [Hypothetically—and I mean hypothetically—I have a friend. Her husband had a child before they married and never told her.] [Okay.] [That counts as concealing a material fact, right? There’s a clause in their agreement about ‘True Love’ appearing requiring double severance. Can she apply that here?] [Regarding this friend, what does the specific wording of the agreement say?] I stared at the screen. I couldn’t say it was me. I couldn’t be too specific. If the words “Mrs. Cole” circulated through the NYC lawyer group chats, I’d die of embarrassment ten times over. I typed: [My friend didn’t sign a formal prenup. Her husband verbally agreed that if he cheated, he’d leave with nothing.] Even I thought that sounded fake as I sent it. The ‘user is typing…’ indicator appeared… and stayed there for a long time. [Your friend is very… trusting.] I choked. [Mr. Daniels, the point isn’t her trust.] [The point is what she can get right now.] My fingers hovered over the screen. $20 million… $25 million would work too. Weston Cole’s face isn’t currency, but money is. [Severance pay. Preferably doubled.] [Is there evidence proving the husband acknowledged the child?] I thought of Leo’s face. I thought of Weston saying, “I’ll handle this.” He didn’t deny it. Does that count as acknowledgement? I typed: [She said her husband didn’t deny it. Does that count?] [A verbal acknowledgement counts, but it’s best to have a recording, chat logs, or a witness.] [A witness… do I count?] I slammed the phone face-down on the bed. Five seconds later, the screen lit up again. Lawyer Daniels: [Mrs. Cole, it’s not convenient for me to take a case involving the Cole family. However, I can recommend a colleague who specializes in high-net-worth family law.] … I laughed at my own stupidity. While I spent the next two days contacting lawyers and consulting on divorce proceedings, Leo came back. When I heard movement at the entrance, I was decanting red wine at the dining table. Weston walked in first, with the boy half a step behind him. Weston pulled out a chair. “Leo transferred schools. Until the paperwork is finalized, he’ll be staying here.” Wow. Bringing the illegitimate son home in broad daylight. How long until the True Love shows up demanding her title? Divorce! Absolutely must divorce! While mentally calculating the alimony, I didn’t miss a beat calling out to the kitchen: “Marie, let’s add two more dishes tonight.” Six dishes and a soup were served. I plated a piece of sweet and sour rib into $25 million’s… excuse me, into Leo’s bowl, and asked solicitously: “Is the school sorted out?” He looked down. “Yeah.” “What grade?” “Junior year.” “Can you keep up with the coursework?” His chopsticks paused. “It’s okay.” I added another spoonful of greens to his bowl. “It’s getting cold out. There are thick comforters in the guest room closet.” He didn’t respond, nor did he look up. His entire focus was communicating solely with the rice in his bowl. Weston didn’t speak either. Like father, like son—both clams. After dinner, the dishes went into the kitchen. I opened the fridge to find some fruit. I sliced oranges into eight perfect wedges and arranged them on a white porcelain plate. Footsteps stopped behind me. “You aren’t going to ask about my situation? You don’t care that he was running around outside?” Leo’s voice was a bit raspy. I kept arranging the oranges. “That’s between you two. I’m only responsible for cooperating with whatever arrangements Mr. Cole makes.” “…You really don’t care at all?” I turned off the faucet. Turning around, I dried my hands on a towel, smiling flawlessly. “Kid, we have a contract marriage.” I hung the towel back on the rack, my smile becoming enigmatic. “Caring too much counts as a breach of contract.” He didn’t speak again. His gaze fell on my face, searching for confirmation. But just as I picked up the fruit plate to leave, I saw Weston standing at the kitchen doorway. After that day, Weston’s frequency of coming home dropped noticeably. When Marie asked how many places to set, I said two. With the master of the house absent, the wife and the secret son coexisted peacefully. Nobody seemed to find it strange. Friday afternoon, Lawyer Chen, whom I had contacted, sent over a file. [Mrs. Cole, here is the rough draft of the evidence checklist for the divorce petition. Please review.] I opened it. Item Seven: [The husband concealed fathering a child out of wedlock, constituting a material fault.] “Hey.” Hearing Leo’s voice, I casually closed the file. He was standing at the terrace door, looking at me intently. “What were you just looking at?” I set my phone face down. “Work stuff.” He didn’t move. “Liar. Since you married Weston, he’s supported you. You’ve never worked a day. Are you divorcing Weston because of me? You can’t divorce him.” I asked him, “Why?” His back was to me, his voice very low. “Because…” Hey, this brat! Talk about a cliffhanger! How could he just turn around and walk away without saying anything? The next day he got up early. I was sitting on the sofa flipping through documents; he watched me. I went to get water; he followed me to the kitchen door. I came back; he followed me and sat down again. Finally, I closed my laptop. “Leo, is there something wrong with your brain?” He didn’t deny it, but repeated yesterday’s line: “You can’t divorce him.” I stared at him. “Wasn’t your goal in showing up here to let me know he cheated and ruin our marriage?” He pursed his lips. “It was, but…” “Then why are you stopping me now?” He lowered his eyes, silent. I got up to go to the study, slamming the door to shut him out. Five minutes later, a piece of paper was slid under the door. Folded, torn from a notebook. The handwriting was heavy, tearing the paper in two places.

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Chapter 1 I had just started peeling it. My cousin walked in and said she wanted a tangerine. My boyfriend followed right behind her. He looked at me, totally indifferent, and said: “Give it to her. You can just have an orange, it’s the same thing.” I looked at him—the guy who was supposed to always be on my side since we were kids—and compromised. “Fine. We’ll split it.” Mom’s smile vanished. She snapped at me: “It’s just one tiny tangerine, half isn’t enough to taste. “Is it going to kill you not to have a tangerine today?” Before I could answer, she grabbed my cousin’s hand and headed for the door to buy more. My boyfriend stayed behind, glaring at me with a cold face. “You are so selfish. “No wonder everyone likes her more than you.” The door slammed shut again. I stood there stunned for a long time. Then, I picked up my phone and called my dad, who was thousands of miles away. “I want to transfer schools.” Dad sounded confused. After a moment, he asked, “Is something wrong? Are they treating you badly?” I stared at that half-peeled tangerine on the table. My eyes stung fiercely. Since I didn’t answer immediately, Dad sighed. “When we got divorced, I said I’d take you with me. Your mom almost went crazy fighting it. “If you move here now, it’s going to be hard to see her again—” “I don’t care,” I said, my voice cracking. “Chloe is her daughter now. “If I leave, she’ll probably be happy.” There was a long silence on the other end. Then, I heard a woman’s voice in the background. She called out my dad’s name and asked, “Who are you talking to? Dinner’s getting cold.” I gripped the phone tightly, my knuckles white. “Dad… are you… married again?” I didn’t wait for him to answer. I hung up. It didn’t matter. Senior year was almost over. When it came time to apply for college, I’d just pick one as far away from this house as possible. I tried to comfort myself, scrolling through social media to distract my brain. I opened Instagram. The first thing I saw was a post from my cousin, Chloe: [Photo of a bowl of perfectly peeled tangerine segments. Every piece of white pith had been meticulously removed, leaving only pure, flawless orange flesh.] Caption: When they love you, they make sure you have the best ~ ❤️ I recognized those hands in the photo immediately. Before Chloe showed up, those hands held mine every single day, walking me through every street and alley of this city. Looking at the comments filled with people hyping up how “blessed” she was, I slammed my phone face down. I snatched that half-peeled tangerine off the table, ripped the rest of the skin off, and shoved the whole thing into my mouth. Crunch. It was bitter as hell. They were coming back from a fancy steakhouse when I finished my instant ramen. As they walked in, my boyfriend, Tyler, noticed my face—probably pale with a slight yellow tint. He frowned. “You have a bad stomach, and you’re still eating that trash?” I ignored him, keeping my face blank. Mom tried to smooth things over. She giggled and grabbed Tyler’s arm. “Tyler, you’re so handsome, get such good grades, and you’re so thoughtful. There must be tons of girls chasing you at school.” Chloe seemed to know exactly what Mom was implying. Her face turned bright red. “Auntie, why are you asking him that?” “What? I’m just saying, the early bird gets the worm.” Mom winked suggestively. “I’ve watched Tyler grow up. If he could be my nephew-in-law, I’d die happy.” I looked at the pink hair tie on Tyler’s wrist and let out a cold laugh. For once, I decided to play along with my mom. “Yeah, Tyler. You’re number one in class, she’s number two. Even the teachers say you guys are a perfect match. “I think you two should get engaged right after graduation. “Get married in college and have kids. Maybe you’ll get extra credits for it—” “Maya!” Tyler’s expression snapped. Without another word, he grabbed my wrist and dragged me out of the house. He didn’t stop until we reached a secluded spot. He stood there, looking down at me, interrogating me. “How could you try to pair your own boyfriend up with another girl?” I stared into his cold eyes. I lifted my bangs, revealing a forehead that was swollen and turning a nasty purple. “Oh, you still remember that you’re my boyfriend?” I watched his face cloud over. I knew exactly what he was thinking. This afternoon, Chloe was reading in the bleachers while Tyler was playing basketball. A rogue ball flew right toward her. Everyone in the bleachers was screaming, trying to warn her. But she was too immersed in “the ocean of knowledge” to notice. Just before it hit her, Tyler, who had been drinking water next to me, took a huge stride forward. At the very last second, he powerfully swatted the ball away. It hit my head with perfect precision. I stumbled, the world spinning. I almost blacked out. I barely managed to gasp out, “Tyler,” before I realized he hadn’t noticed my situation at all. Instead, Chloe was tugging at the bottom of his jersey. She was biting the end of her pen, looking at him cutely. “Tyler, could you look at this problem? Is there another way to solve it?” Tyler could never say no to Chloe. So, he didn’t know I got hurt and went home early. He didn’t know that since Chloe appeared, the scales in his heart had tilted so far they were broken. I looked up at him. “Tyler. Let’s break up.” Unfortunately, Tyler didn’t hear me. His phone rang, and his frown deepened as he listened. After hanging up, he looked at me, sounding exasperated. “Chloe doesn’t have a family, Maya. It’s been hard enough for her to grow up into the person she is today. “Why do you have to insist on pushing her away?” Watching his back as he turned and walked away decisively, my heart sank. Five minutes later, my unease was confirmed. Standing just outside the front door, I could hear Chloe sobbing inside. “I know Maya doesn’t like me. I know it. “It’s fine, Auntie. I can move into the school dorms.” “Absolutely not!” Mom’s voice rose sharply. “The dorms are terrible, and living in a group like that will ruin your focus on studying!” “She’s right,” Tyler’s voice added, sounding muffled. “Don’t rush into anything. Let me try to talk to Maya again, she—” Creak. I opened the door. I looked at the messy living room, still trying to process the timeline of events. Before I could, Mom rushed over and slapped me. Her hand was shaking afterward. She looked at me like I was a total disappointment. “How dare you call your father to complain? “If you think I’m kicking Chloe out, you have another thing coming. “How did I give birth to something so selfish and cruel as you?” My cheek stung like fire. My brain was buzzing. A long moment later, I heard Mom say: “Is this all because of that tangerine? Fine. I’ll make sure you eat your fill tonight.” She pulled out a fifty-dollar bill and shoved it at Tyler. “Tyler, sorry to ask, but could you run to the store? Buy a whole crate of tangerines.” I barely managed to stand steady. I looked at Chloe, standing next to her suitcase, her eyes mocking and triumphant. Instinctively, I looked at Tyler, hoping he would say something, anything, in my defense. He didn’t. He turned his head away, his face like stone. “Okay.” As he brushed past me to go to the store, Tyler said coldly: “I guess I spoiled you too much. It made you arrogant, entitled, and completely lacking empathy. “Maybe this will actually teach you a lesson.” After Mom tucked Chloe into bed, she sat in the living room, staring at me. “If you don’t eat them, I’m going to the school tomorrow and pulling you out. You can drop out for all I care.” I looked at the floor. A big, yellow crate full of tangerines. Surprisingly, my heart was eerily calm. I didn’t do what I usually did when I got alone time with Mom—I didn’t cry or explain how unfair it was. I didn’t say how Chloe was taller than me, yet since she arrived, I hadn’t gotten single new piece of clothing. I always had to wear her hand-me-downs. I didn’t say how the big, master bedroom went to her because her grades were better. I didn’t say how Mom, afraid Chloe would feel homesick, strictly forbade me from getting too close to her or showing affection. … The sun was almost up. I looked at the very last tangerine in the crate. I picked it up slowly. Mom snatched it out of my hand. She looked at me like she didn’t even recognize me. Then, she said calmly: “Wow. Look how greedy you are. “You couldn’t even save one for Chloe?” I obediently pulled my hand back. I walked to the bathroom, leaned over the toilet, and threw everything up. That was when Dad made a video call. Seeing my face—I probably looked half-dead—he started stuttering in panic. “What… what happened? What’s wrong? “I warned your mother last night, did she not listen?” I wiped my mouth, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “This is all thanks to you.” Just as I was about to hit delete and block his number, a pretty face appeared on the other end. The woman took one look at me and turned pale. It took her a moment to regain her composure. “Your father and I talked about it. There are only a few months left until graduation. Transferring now won’t do you any good. “It’s better if we rent you an apartment right next to school so you can focus on studying. “As soon as you graduate, you come here.” As she spoke, she flipped the camera to show me a bedroom. “In the meantime, your dad and I will get this room set up for you. “That way, when you come home, it’ll be comfortable.” Tears blurred my vision. I stared at the screen, unable to believe what I was seeing. I choked out one word. “Okay.” Considering that renting an apartment had too many uncertainties, I decided to move into the school dorms for the last two months instead. First thing I did when I got to school was explain the situation to my homeroom teacher. When the bell rang, I walked into the classroom with the teacher. Instantly, I caught Tyler’s eyes. His gaze darkened. “Chloe had some questions about studying, so she’s sitting in your spot temporarily. Do you really have to drag a teacher into something this small?” That was when I noticed. Chloe had taken my backpack and thrown it carelessly onto the floor. She had already arranged all her belongings neatly on my desk. Someone laughed in the back. “Come on, Maya. They’re a couple, they want to sit together. Just let them have it ~” “Yeah, seriously. Save Tyler the trouble of running back and forth between classes…” “You’ve monopolized Tyler for years. He has a girlfriend now. Have some boundaries!” Hearing this, Chloe blushed and whispered, “I really just needed help with studying… It’s not like your grades are as good as mine anyway, sitting next to Tyler is a waste for you… so…” “You two can stay locked together for all I care,” I interrupted coldly. I picked up my backpack from the floor and walked straight to the back row. For some reason, during the lecture, Tyler kept turning around to look at me. Even though I had induced vomiting, my stomach still felt awful. During the long break, I went to the nurse’s office to get some medicine. Walking past the entrance, I heard a familiar voice. “It’s Maya’s birthday today. Tyler, you should come over tonight to celebrate too.” Mom was standing in the sunlight, looking so gentle it was almost blinding. She pulled out her phone. “Chloe, sweetheart, come pick out a cake ~” Chloe smiled innocently, seemingly seeing nothing wrong with this. She took the phone and scrolled for a bit. “This one, Auntie! I’ve wanted to try this for ages. I heard the mango flavor is incredible ~” Mom laughed awkwardly. “Maybe… a different flavor? “Maya… she’s allergic to mangoes.” My feet stopped moving. I stepped back and hid around the corner. I hesitated. I was planning on moving into the dorms tonight… but I didn’t realize Mom was preparing a birthday surprise for me… “Oh, okay,” Chloe said, her eyes filling with tears, her voice trembling. “I’m just happy to have cake. “When I was little, my parents always fought on my birthday… I never got to eat cake, not even once…” “We’ll get this one,” Mom interrupted, her voice suddenly decisive. “It’s just for the ritual, anyway. Maya… she doesn’t even like cake that much. “Good girl, we’ll do what you want.” Tyler didn’t seem to think anything was wrong with that. He just smiled slightly. “I got Maya a gift, but I got one for you too, Chloe.” Watching this scene of a happy, harmonious family, I couldn’t help but mock myself. Why was I so delusional? Trying to dream a dream that didn’t belong to me? I didn’t stay to hear them discuss the details of the surprise. I turned and left. After swallowing the medicine, I went to a convenience store, bought some basic necessities, and set them up in my new dorm room. For the rest of the day, Tyler and Chloe were stuck together, chatting intimately. Every now and then, Tyler would glance back at me. When school let out, Tyler stood in front of my desk. He looked arrogant, his tone condescending, like he was doing me a favor. “Go home first. Remember to clear off your desk so there’s room for gifts. “I have to finish explaining these problems to Chloe.” He didn’t wait for me to answer. He went back to his seat. I just shrugged, grabbed my backpack, and left. Like any other boarding student, I got food from the cafeteria and went back to the dorm to eat while I studied. Until night fell. The dorm matron found me. “Maya, does your family not know you’re staying here? “Your mom and a tall, skinny boy are searching the whole school for you. “They look really worried… You should go see them.”

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Out of the 203 people in the company, 197 voted for me. It was the exact same number as last year. Last year, Mr. Vance called me into his office. “Chloe, Liam’s family is going through a tough financial patch. Could you take the high road and let him have this spot?” I let him have it. This year, the moment the voting results were pinned to the bulletin board, the door to Mr. Vance’s office cracked open. I didn’t wait for him to call my name. I walked right in and slapped my resignation letter onto his desk. “Mr. Vance, no need to ask me to give it up this time.” “I’m walking out on my own.” Robert Vance stared at the resignation letter like his eyes weren’t focusing properly. He actually let out a small chuckle. “Chloe, what kind of tantrum is this?” “It’s not a tantrum.” I stood across from his mahogany desk, my voice perfectly flat. “It’s a carefully considered decision.” He picked up the crisp white paper, glanced at it, and tossed it back down. “You’ve been at Apex Solutions for five years. You know exactly how well this company has treated you.” “Yeah. I know exactly how I’ve been treated.” I nodded. He probably didn’t expect me to be this calm. His smile froze for a fraction of a second before morphing into a look of deep, paternal concern. “I know you have some lingering feelings about what happened last year. But Liam really was struggling. The ten-thousand-dollar bonus that came with the Employee of the Year award meant a lot more to his livelihood.” Ten thousand dollars. He said it so casually. Last year, that “Employee of the Year” title didn’t just come with a ten-thousand-dollar check. It came with a fast-track promotion review. Liam took that spot. By the beginning of this year, he was promoted to Account Supervisor. And me? My desk was moved from a bright spot by the window all the way to the dark end of the hallway next to the supply closet. The excuse was, “We need to clear out a spacious area for the new supervisor’s open-concept workspace.” I didn’t bring any of that up. There was no point anymore. “Mr. Vance, it’s clearly stated in the letter. For personal reasons, I’m requesting to resign at the end of the month.” “A four-week notice is plenty of time for a transition.” His smile finally vanished. He leaned back in his leather chair, tapping his index finger against the desk. “Chloe, you have three major projects in the execution phase right now. The annual retainer for Harrison Corp is up for renewal next month. Walking away right now is incredibly irresponsible to the company.” “Which is why I’m giving you a four-week transition period.” “What good is four weeks? Harrison Corp only recognizes you.” When he hit the words only recognizes you, his tone suddenly grew heavy. He wasn’t complimenting me. He was warning me—you are essential, so you are not allowed to leave. I looked at him dead in the eye. “Harrison Corp recognizes Apex Solutions’ service capabilities, not me personally.” “Once the handover is complete, anyone can take over.” As the words left my mouth, even I knew it was a lie. But I simply didn’t care anymore. The sound of the door pushing open shattered the tense silence. Liam walked in carrying two cups of artisan coffee. Seeing me, he paused in surprise. “Chloe? You’re here too.” He placed one of the cups near Mr. Vance’s hand and turned to look at me. “The annual voting results just got posted. You got the highest votes again this year! Congratulations.” He smiled, showing perfectly white teeth. I knew that smile all too well. Last year, he had walked into this exact office with that exact smile to take the award right out of my hands. Back then, he had said, “Chloe, I seriously can’t thank you enough. Let me buy you dinner sometime.” That dinner never happened. Instead, the Harrison Corp account—a client I had personally cultivated for three years—was transferred to his name by Robert Vance’s pen during Liam’s very first week as supervisor. “You’re too kind, Supervisor.” I didn’t accept his congratulations. I just turned and walked toward the door. Right as I reached the threshold, I heard Mr. Vance call out from behind me. “Chloe.” I stopped. “Think carefully about this resignation.” “I told you, it’s a carefully considered decision.” “Then let me make myself perfectly clear.” His voice dropped to a threatening baritone. “During your transition period, you are not permitted to take a single project file or client contact. If you try to take anything with you…” “The legal department won’t show you any mercy.” I didn’t look back. “Don’t worry. I won’t even take an extra paperclip.” When I pushed the door open, several people in the hallway were pretending to get water from the cooler. They had all seen me walk out of the boss’s office. The gossip would spread across the entire floor in less than ten minutes. I walked back to my desk at the end of the hall and woke up my computer monitor. The potted pothos plant on my desk was something I had bought at a farmer’s market three years ago for five bucks. Now, the green vines cascaded all the way down to the floor. I gently brushed a leaf and started organizing my digital folders. My phone lit up. A text message from Amanda, my point of contact at Harrison Corp. “Hey Chloe, are you still leading the strategy meeting next week? Mr. Harrison specifically asked for you.” I stared at the message for five seconds. I didn’t reply. The first person to approach me was Brenda. The head of Human Resources. She pulled up an empty chair next to my desk, holding a matcha latte, wearing her standard-issue corporate-empathy smile. “Chloe, I heard you submitted your resignation?” “Yeah.” “Oh, sweetie, why so sudden?” She reached out and patted the back of my hand. “Is this about the voting results last year? I know you felt wronged, but Mr. Vance was just looking out for the team as a whole—” “Brenda.” I cut her off. “It has nothing to do with that. It’s just for my personal career development.” Her smile didn’t waver, but her voice dropped an octave. “Chloe, let me speak to you from the heart. You’ve been at Apex for five years, and everyone sees your hard work. The award is just a piece of paper; it doesn’t define your actual capability.” “Take the high road here. Mr. Vance remembers your sacrifices.” Take the high road. I had heard that exact phrase no less than twenty times over the last five years. During my first year, I landed the company’s very first million-dollar contract. At the year-end review, I built the pitch deck, I ran the analytics, and Robert Vance stood on stage presenting it for forty minutes. My name was third from the bottom in the “Special Thanks” slide. Brenda had patted my shoulder then and said, “Chloe, you’re young. The higher-ups see your credit. Take the high road.” My second year, I single-handedly secured the annual retainer for Harrison Corp, totaling $500,000. On the day of the contract signing, Liam was assigned to tag along with me because Mr. Vance said he needed to “learn the ropes.” When the signing photo was posted in the company Slack channel, Liam was standing dead center. I was shoved to the far edge, half of my face cropped out. Brenda said, “Chloe, it’s just a photo. Don’t be so petty.” My third year. The Employee of the Year vote. 197 votes. Brenda didn’t come to comfort me that time. She was the one who handed the plaque to Liam. “Brenda, my mind is made up.” I slid her hand off mine. “But thanks for stopping by.” She stood up, the warmth fading from her face. “Well, I hope you’ve thought this through. The job market is brutal right now. It won’t be easy out there.” I didn’t respond. Within twenty minutes of her leaving, three different waves of people visited my desk. The first was Kevin from Admin, coming to “borrow” a stapler while awkwardly fishing for gossip. The second was Sarah from Marketing, returning a phone charger she borrowed a month ago, her eyes darting everywhere but my face. The third was Liam. He pulled up a chair and sat across from me, letting out a heavy sigh. “Chloe, did I do something wrong?” I looked up at him. His brows were slightly furrowed, wearing a perfectly crafted expression of I am so confused and guilty. It was so familiar. The night the voting results came out last year, he bought the entire department bubble tea to celebrate. He specifically left me out. Later, when someone pointed it out, he texted me: “Chloe! Omg I completely forgot to order yours, my bad! Let me order you one right now?” He was always “forgetting.” He forgot to invite me to client meetings. He forgot to mention my name in project reports. He forgot to tell clients that the strategy proposals were entirely written by me. But he never, ever forgot to add one specific phrase when reporting to Mr. Vance: “I personally oversaw this project.” “You haven’t done anything wrong, Supervisor.” My tone was ice-water flat. “It has nothing to do with you. I just want a change of scenery.” “Chloe, I just took over the Harrison Corp account. There’s so much I’m not familiar with yet. If you leave now—” “There will be a highly detailed transition document.” “About that…” He leaned in, lowering his voice. “Could you put in a good word for me with Mr. Harrison? Their point of contact has been giving me the cold shoulder.” I finally smiled. “Supervisor, that is your client now. You put in your own good word.” The fake smile on his face instantly cracked. He stood up awkwardly. “Right. Well, I’ll let you get back to work.” After he left, I pulled open my bottom drawer. Tucked all the way in the back was a thick brown manila envelope. Inside was a master spreadsheet of every single project I had touched over the last five years. Which proposal was written by whom, which deal was negotiated by whom, which client relationship was maintained by whom. Dates, revenue amounts, email archive reference numbers. Not a single error. I had spent three months quietly compiling this. Not for revenge. But so that when I finally walked out those doors, I would know exactly, indisputably, what my true value was. Once the news of my resignation officially spread, the atmosphere in the office subtly shifted. People who used to walk past my desk would usually nod or say hi. Now, most of them took the long way around. Like I was carrying a highly contagious disease. Only Emily, the young receptionist, secretly slipped a box of fresh strawberries onto my desk during her lunch break. “Chloe, I know these are your favorite.” She whispered it frantically and practically sprinted away, looking like a bank robber. I stared at the strawberries, my heart aching just a little. At 2:00 PM, Robert Vance sent a message in the department Slack channel: “Effective immediately, Liam will take full control of the Harrison Corp account. Chloe will assist with the transition for the next four weeks.” Assist with the transition. With four words, I was demoted from Lead Project Manager to Liam’s assistant. Five minutes later, Liam replied in the channel with a handshake emoji. Then he tagged me: “@Chloe, please compile the meeting minutes, communication logs, and pricing sheets for Harrison Corp from the last three years and have them on my desk by tomorrow.” Three years of data. Hundreds of files. He said “have them on my desk by tomorrow” with the tone of an executive ordering an unpaid intern. I didn’t reply in the public channel. I sent him a direct message: “Three years of data is a massive volume. I am following standard handover protocols. ETA is one week.” He replied instantly: “A week is too long. Mr. Vance needs it ASAP.” I didn’t reply again. I placed my phone face-down on the desk and went back to organizing my files. By the third day, things started getting ugly. At 10:00 AM, I sent my usual email to Amanda at Harrison Corp to confirm the agenda for next week’s strategy meeting. Ten minutes later, Liam marched over from his bright “supervisor workspace” and shoved his phone screen in my face. “Chloe, I just saw you emailed Harrison Corp?” “Yeah.” “From now on, all emails to Harrison Corp go through me. Just CC me.” I stared at him. His desk was the one he had stolen from me three months ago. He had even taken the aloe plant I had nurtured for two years and placed it on his new desk. “Supervisor, I am still the point of contact during this transition period. If an email needs to be sent, I will send it.” “Then could you at least run your drafts by me before you hit send?” He smiled condescendingly. “After all, I’m the one in charge now.” I didn’t say a word. I just turned back to my monitor and kept typing. That afternoon, Brenda came back. She didn’t bring a matcha latte this time, and she wasn’t smiling. “Chloe, I need to notify you of something.” She dropped a legal document onto my desk. It was a supplemental Non-Compete Agreement. “The legal department advises you to sign this. For two years post-resignation, you are prohibited from working in the same industry or contacting any active client resources.” I flipped through the document. Three pages of severe, suffocating legal jargon. The penalty clause read: In the event of a breach, the employee shall be liable for damages to the company in the amount of $100,000. One hundred thousand dollars. I had been at Apex for five years. My salary had barely bumped from $60,000 to $100,000. If I didn’t eat or pay rent for five years, I wouldn’t have enough to cover that penalty. “Brenda, there was no non-compete clause in my original employment contract.” “This is a supplemental agreement.” “Adding a restrictive covenant during an active employment term requires mutual consent.” “I don’t consent.” Her eye twitched. “Chloe, this is just a standard formality to protect the company’s interests—” “Brenda, I’m protecting my own interests.” I pushed the document back across the desk. “I’m not signing it.” She grabbed the papers and stormed off. Her footsteps were significantly heavier than when she arrived. That night, my mom called me. “Chloe, did you quit your job?” I froze. “Who told you that?” “That HR woman from your company called me. She said you’ve been under a lot of stress at work, that you’re emotionally unstable, and asked the family to talk some sense into you.” Brenda called my mother. I gripped my phone, my nails biting painfully into my palm. “Mom, I am not emotionally unstable.” “Then why did you quit?! It’s a good, stable job. Do you have any idea how bad the economy is right now?!” “Mom—” “Can’t you just endure it a little longer?” Endure it. Just like Brenda’s take the high road. The two phrases that had haunted my entire adult life. “Mom, don’t worry. I have a plan.” After hanging up, I stood on my apartment balcony for a long time. Looking down, I could see the company parking lot. Robert Vance’s black Mercedes E300 was parked in the premium reserved spot at the very back. Liam’s white Honda Accord was parked in the spot next to it—the spot that used to be mine. Last month, Admin revoked my parking pass under the guise of “Supervisor privileges.” I commute on an e-bike now. My phone lit up again. A text from Amanda. “Hey Chloe, I heard you’re leaving?! Mr. Harrison wanted me to ask if you’re free for a private lunch this week?” I stared at the message. I typed back one word: “Absolutely.” The lunch with Harrison Corp was set for Thursday. But on Wednesday afternoon, disaster struck. My work computer wouldn’t turn on. The IT guy came over, took one look, and said the hard drive was corrupted and needed to be sent out for repair. “Chloe, did you back up the files on your desktop?” I stared at the black screen, saying nothing. Five years of project files, communication logs, and strategy drafts. All of it was on that machine.

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At 3 AM on Valentine’s Day, my husband’s little mistress bought a trending hashtag on X. “The great Victor Harding just got my nickname tattooed on his ‘manhood.’ Please take good care of him over the next few days, Mrs. Harding.” Social media blew up. The whole of New York City was taking bets. Would I pay a fortune to bury the scandal like I did the year before last? Or would I show up at the mistress’s door to tear her apart, just like last year? Almost everyone was placing bets. Only my husband, the one who loved the drama most, replied lightly under that trending hashtag. “Don’t be jealous, wifey. No matter what they tattoo, they’ll never be as beautiful as you were back then.” Page Six immediately dug up a photo of me at eighteen, arriving in Manhattan with Victor Harding. He carried me off the yacht, bathed in the flashes of cameras and the stares of the crowd. That scene overlapped with the massive headline in the tabloids: [Knocked-Up Mrs. Harding is SO Forgiving!] I looked at the gossip and rumors, but I didn’t get angry like I usually did. I calmly picked up my phone and posted a photo under that explosive hashtag—a picture of me resting against a muscular man’s chest. “Deeply in love. Do not disturb.” … The photo went out, but I didn’t see the expected wave of mockery. Less than three minutes later, my account was banned for “spreading false information.” My iMessage thread with Victor, which had been empty all year, was suddenly flooded with his texts. “Who is that guy?” “Where are you right now? Get your ass home!” “Not replying? Fine. Don’t let me catch you two, or I’ll make you pay!” After seven years of marriage, this was the first time I had to think about how to reply to him, rather than finding an excuse to bother him. But looking at his profile picture—the fifth matching couples’ avatar he had changed to this month just for Ashley—my fingers paused. Suddenly, I felt it was all so meaningless. I simply turned off my phone, rolled over, and went to sleep. Half an hour later, the door to my Four Seasons hotel suite was kicked open. Before I could even react, an iron grip seized my arm. Victor was breathing heavily, his eyes sharp as an eagle’s. “Where is the guy?” I tried to pull my arm away, but I couldn’t. “He just left.” The moment the words left my mouth, he roughly dragged me into the bathroom and shoved me into the bathtub. With a cold face, he held the showerhead and blasted my body with freezing water. Watching me shiver from the cold, he used his free hand to rip open my collar, searching for marks. Smack! I raised my hand and slapped him hard across the face. Instantly, his cheek turned red, but it still wasn’t as red as the fresh hickeys on his neck. Victor laughed and threw the showerhead aside. Seeing the cold water mix with blood, I finally realized he had injured my wrist. “Wifey, I knew you were lying to me. You’re just jealous.” “What man would even want you? Everyone in New York knows you followed me here from the middle of nowhere when you were eighteen. Now, besides the title of ‘Mrs. Harding,’ what do you actually have?” He wrapped me in a bath towel and carried me to the sofa. The fruity cologne on his body mixed with the suite’s aromatherapy. It smelled absolutely nauseating. “I can allow you to be jealous, but you absolutely cannot hurt Ashley. You know full well who she is to me, aside from being my lover.” I lowered my eyes, watching his hand—the one wearing his family signet ring—press against my flat stomach. I said flatly, “Victor, how about I give the title of Mrs. Harding to…” “What?” Victor looked up, having just finished typing a text with a smirk. I shook my head. At that moment, both of our phones buzzed simultaneously. He had texted Ashley: “Happy Valentine’s Day, baby. Love you forever.” I had texted an unknown number: “I want to go home. As soon as possible.” Victor looked at me with my wet hair, staring down at my phone, and inexplicably felt uneasy. In the past, every Valentine’s Day ended with me tearing apart whatever mistress he had, making the whole city know he married a fierce, unhinged woman. So much so that when I came home from fighting his battles, he’d look at me with disgust, retreating to his phone to flirt passionately with his other side pieces. And I would just look at him with pleading eyes, hoping he would quietly sit and share a simple late-night meal with me. Victor cleared his throat. “At the family Thanksgiving dinner yesterday… did you finally get approved for the family trust?” I froze. Getting voted into the family trust was a strict Harding tradition. Only the daughters-in-law who passed the board’s vote were considered true members of the Harding family. But I was the only one. I had waited nearly ten years, and I still hadn’t passed. Even the club dancers Victor casually brought home could easily get an approval vote. He always joked that it was because I was too abrasive and unrefined to blend into New York high society. Thinking of this, I shook my head. “Didn’t get it this year either.” A trace of confusion flashed in Victor’s eyes. “That shouldn’t be right…” If I didn’t know the truth, hearing those words right now would have moved me. I would have thought he was frustrated on my behalf. But his confusion wasn’t out of pity for me. I still remembered the phone call he had with his mother three days ago. At first, I thought he was just telling Ashley a bedtime story like usual. But the more I listened, the more wrong it sounded. “She’s pregnant. Let her into the trust this year. Otherwise, it won’t look good for her to be walking around the social circle with a big belly.” “Mom, I know you don’t like Rain… and I definitely won’t just forgive her either. Her first year, when she was supposed to pass the vote, didn’t I secretly swap her ballot for a veto?” “We’ve punished her enough for what happened back then. It’s time to stop.” Lying in the soft bed, my blood ran ice cold. So, all these years, he had been blaming me for her death (Sarah’s death). Victor seemed like he wanted to say something comforting, but before the words could come out, there was a knock on the door. “Mr. Harding, Miss Ashley says the equipment is ready. She wants you to personally go and… give her a matching tattoo.” Hearing this, Victor stood up so abruptly I was nearly dragged off the sofa. Lust surged in his eyes, and he completely forgot about me. Leaving behind a brief “take care of the baby,” he opened the door and left. My phone’s calendar notification popped up: [Day after Valentine’s Day: Get a divorce.] At the City Clerk’s office, I handed over my marriage certificate. A few seconds later, the clerk frowned and pushed it back. “Ma’am, this certificate is fake. The notary seal is forged.” My breath hitched. “That’s impossible. Please check again…” “There really is no record in the system. You and Mr. Harding are actually both listed as legally single…” The clerk turned the monitor around to show me. I suddenly felt overwhelmingly dizzy. Memories flashed frantically in my mind. One moment, it was our wedding day, when Victor impulsively took me camping on a private island and asked his family to handle the marriage paperwork. The next moment, it was returning from the island, taking the certificate from my mother-in-law’s hands, and noticing the strange look on her face. And then, there was the time after that incident happened. Victor was a mess for days, crying every night. I had heard his drunken confession. He said he didn’t want to get married. Only now did I understand. Maybe it wasn’t that he was afraid of marriage; he just never wanted to marry me. I stood up unsteadily. When I finally came to my senses, I was sitting outside a clinic room in the hospital. A few nurses pushed a cart past me. “Some people just have all the luck. You know Victor Harding’s ‘adopted sister’?” “Which one?” “Oh, you know, his little mistress they claim is his god-sister. Ashley. She’s got it made. Gets a paper cut and comes to the hospital for a full physical.” “Then look at some other people. Like her.” One of the nurses covertly pointed her chin in my direction. “Brought in the middle of the night a while back with heavy bleeding. From admission to discharge, the embryo was disposed of and not a single person came to check on her. So pathetic…” I subconsciously placed my hand on my stomach. That baby… Victor and I had both eagerly awaited her arrival once. Even after Victor stopped caring, I still hoped. But maybe it’s better this way. She left, so I could leave cleanly, too. I planned to go back to the house to pack my passport and IDs to return to the West Coast. But the moment I walked through the door, I noticed the atmosphere was wrong. Ashley was wrapped around Victor like a water snake. Her eyes were red, like she had just been crying. Seeing me walk in, she pointed at me and yelled. “Rain! Do you think just because you live with Victor, you can challenge my sister Sarah’s place in his heart?!” “Where did you hide my sister’s photo? Give it back right now!” Ever since I “married” Victor, Ashley had been finding trouble with me every few days. Either she claimed I hired thugs to ambush her, or she said I was the one leaking her scandals to the tabloids. At first, Victor still believed my explanations. Later, he would just watch me cry coldly, then assign a dozen more bodyguards to protect Ashley. He would brush me off, saying, “Her sister Sarah took care of me in the past. Now that she’s dead, I have to take good care of her little sister.” Even when I caught them in bed together, I was naive enough to believe his excuses. Seeing me standing there, supposedly unable to defend myself, Ashley smirked triumphantly. But then I said, “Who knows? Maybe your sister found out in the afterlife that you’ve been seducing her ex-fiancé, and she got mad.” “What did you say?!” Ashley stomped over in her Christian Louboutin heels, raising her hand furiously. Before the slap could land, I grabbed her wrist and gave her a light push. Exactly as I expected. I didn’t even use any force, but Ashley collapsed into Victor’s arms, acting like she had sprained her ankle. Her eyes filled with tears. “Victor, my ankle hurts so much! What if I can never dance again?” “But Sarah loved watching me dance…” The name “Sarah” was the ultimate taboo in the Harding house. Victor’s eyes instantly turned icy, chilling me to the bone. “Ashley is still young. Why are you picking fights with her?” “If she didn’t take it, she didn’t take it. Do you think she’d frame you?” I suddenly really wanted to ask: Has she framed me a few times? Try constantly. But thinking of our wedding night, when he secretly looked at that woman’s portrait behind my back… Thinking of how he actually went to a psychic to ask if marrying me had cursed that woman to death… I lost all my strength. “Apologize to Ashley. If you don’t…” Before Victor could finish his threat, I bowed deeply at the waist. “I’m sorry.” He froze slightly. He must have forgotten that in this house, my pride had been broken a long time ago. The last time I refused to apologize, the consequence was being forced to stand in the estate’s freezing lake for thirty-six hours in December. Ashley personally supervised, smiling as she watched me. “A homeless country girl coming to New York has to follow the Harding family’s rules.” Honestly, I really hate the cold. My bowing made Ashley smirk. She tilted her chin up. “Take off those emerald earrings and give them to me.” I took off the emerald earrings my mother gave me before I left the West Coast. Victor, of course, knew what they were. He frowned, a rare expression for him, and said, “I’ll have Ashley return them to you in a few days.” Return them? Of course she will. I thought to myself. Not only will she return them, but in a few days, I’ll make sure you both pay it back with interest. I ignored the two of them being overly affectionate in the hallway and went upstairs. They had clearly just had a wild round in the master bedroom. The maids were using glass cleaner to wipe handprints off the glass frame of our wedding photo. Others were carrying out tied-up garbage bags that smelled questionable. When the maids saw me enter, they bowed in greeting, their faces full of indescribable pity. I avoided their gazes and opened the safe. As I stuffed my IDs into my bag, a blank piece of paper fell out. I glanced at it, and an idea formed in my mind. Then, I took the wedding ring off my ring finger and placed it in its velvet box. “Everything is fine, why are you taking the ring off?” Before I could turn around, I felt the cold touch of metal on my neck. Looking down, it was a stunning sapphire necklace. “I’m afraid of losing it, so I’m putting it in the box for now.” I made a weak excuse and dodged Victor’s attempt to embrace me. He didn’t get the joyful expression he expected from me after giving a gift. He looked displeased, and a strange sense of foreboding hit him. “Isn’t this the Tiffany sapphire you wanted most? You’ve been talking about it for a month.” “Yeah, right. Thanks.” I did want it two years ago. But after seeing Ashley wear the exact same one for the last six months, I didn’t think it looked that pretty anymore. I gently pushed away Victor’s hand as he tried to rest it on my stomach. Just in time to meet Ashley’s hateful, doe-like eyes at the door. She swayed her hips as she walked in, bumping me out of the way. “Victor, Mom wants us to go back to the Long Island estate for dinner tonight. Let’s get ready.” Saying this, she glared at me triumphantly. Victor nodded. Usually, I’d go to the estate alone for a miserable, thankless dinner. Then the next day, my mother-in-law would have Victor bring Ashley for the real family dinner. Knowing my place, I calmly looked away. But out of nowhere, Victor said, “Rain, you should come with us tonight.” Those words made Ashley look like she was about to grind her teeth into dust. I thought about the antique safe hidden behind the painting in the Harding estate and nodded. It’s time to take back what belongs to me. Ashley dressed up dripping in jewels. I, however, picked an outfit from my closet that looked exactly like what I wore the day I first arrived in New York. This time, I didn’t desperately try to sit next to Victor and force my way into their conversations. Instead, I chose a seat far away and sat quietly. When we arrived at the Harding estate, Mrs. Harding greeted Ashley warmly. Then, she glanced at me from the corner of her eye and scoffed. “What are you doing here?” Victor, however, proactively took my hand. “Mom, how could we have family Thanksgiving dinner without my wife?” I looked down at our intertwined hands, a bit dazed. For a second, I couldn’t tell what year it was. Was it the year I loved him the most, or the year I still didn’t know someone else was living in his heart? Mrs. Harding said sarcastically, “Fine. Of course.” “But before you sit at my table, you have to follow tradition.” Tradition. The hazing. Years ago, when Mrs. Harding tried to use this to humiliate me—forcing me to serve her tea on my knees—I flipped the table. Back then, Victor laughed and called me rebellious and edgy. He said it was exactly his type. Today, he hesitated for a moment, then waved his hand. A servant shoved a cup of scalding hot tea into my hands. I endured the numbing pain in my palms. “Mrs. Harding, this is the last time I will ever serve you. After this cup, I want my blessed amulet back from the family vault.” “So petty. It’s just a cheap trinket. Our family doesn’t care about it.” Mrs. Harding didn’t notice the shocked look on her son’s face. That amulet was something I had climbed hundreds of cathedral steps on my knees to pray for, just to ensure Victor would live a safe and prosperous life. But today, I finally realized… This man was unworthy. Just as a servant retrieved the amulet and was about to hand it to me, Ashley suddenly raised her voice. “Godmother! My sister Sarah was supposed to be the real Mrs. Harding. Even though she passed away, she is still part of this family. By the rules, shouldn’t Rain serve her tea, too?” “At the end of the day, the first to arrive is the wife, and the latecomer is just the mistress!” With that, Sarah’s black-and-white portrait was brought out and placed at the head of the table. Looking at Ashley’s face, a fire suddenly surged in my chest. I pushed away the boiling tea they tried to hand me again. The hot liquid splashed, perfectly scalding Ashley’s foot. “Your sister and you are exactly the same—nobodies with no titles. Even back in the day, mistresses had to be invited in. You’re the only one throwing yourself at him.” I sneered and turned to scold the servant. “Give me the amulet.” “Don’t give it to her!” Ashley took a step forward. “Who are you to insult me and my sister? I bet you were the one who killed her! Otherwise, why would Victor have ever married you?!” I glared at her. “Don’t you know exactly how your sister died?” Ashley instinctively looked back at Mrs. Harding. In her panic, Mrs. Harding grew furious. “You bitch, what kind of nonsense are you spouting?!” In the chaos, Ashley suddenly leaned back, grabbing my sleeve, and knocked over the black-and-white portrait. Glass shards sliced my arm. The photo Ashley had been screaming about me “losing” earlier that day landed right at my feet. Ashley threw herself into Victor’s arms, wailing. “See! I told you Rain stole my sister’s photo! I heard they practice witchcraft in the countryside—she was definitely trying to curse Sarah!” “And now the portrait is broken! Those people were right, Rain killed my sister, and now she wants to kill me and my godmother!” I looked up and met Victor’s deep, dark eyes. He enunciated every word clearly. “Make my wife kneel. Make her bow and serve the tea.”

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