Category: English

I was retouching my makeup when a colleague suddenly tapped me on the shoulder. “That lipstick looks exactly like the one I lost a couple of days ago.” Everyone in the open-plan office stopped what they were doing and turned to look. I calmly put the lipstick away. “Really? Then I better keep a close eye on mine.” “Wouldn’t want yours to turn up right when mine goes missing.” Chapter 1 1 “What is that supposed to mean?!” Brooke Davis’s voice spiked, unable to hide the surge of fury in her eyes. “I just saw it was the same shade and made a passing comment.” “Was there any need to get so passive-aggressive?” “I didn’t say you took my lipstick, but acting like this makes you look incredibly guilty!” I curled my lip slightly. “Right, you didn’t explicitly name me as the thief who stole your lipstick.” “But with all your insinuation and subtext, aren’t you just trying to make everyone here believe that I did?” Brooke was rendered speechless by my retort, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson. She probably hadn’t expected me to completely ignore the usual script. I didn’t rush to prove my innocence; instead, I directly attacked her motivation. “I… I didn’t mean it like that!” She tried to defend herself in a panic. But in the next second, she seemed to find her confidence again. She intentionally emphasized her words, her tone dripping with a sense of superiority. “This lipstick is a limited-edition shade I specifically brought back from Europe. You can’t even buy it in this country.” “No one in the office ever used this shade before, yet right after mine goes missing, you start wearing it. Even if I suspect you, isn’t that reasonable?” I raised an eyebrow, countering her slowly and deliberately. “It’s limited edition, but there’s still an ‘edition,’ right?” “Does ‘limited’ mean only you, Brooke Davis, are allowed to buy it? I can’t own one? Your logic is truly fascinating.” My words caused several colleagues who had been silent to chuckle under their breath. Brooke’s expression became even uglier. Just then, a female colleague at the next cubicle over, who was on good terms with Brooke, stood up to play the peacemaker. “Alright, let’s not fight. It’s not worth ruining office harmony over something this small.” “Audrey, since you say you bought the lipstick yourself and didn’t take Brooke’s, why don’t you just show everyone the receipt? That would clear up the misunderstanding, right?” Brooke immediately chimed in, her tone aggressive. “Exactly! You say you bought it, then show us the proof! Unless, of course, you can’t!” The gaze of the entire office focused on me again, pressuring me. I smiled. “Brooke, let’s get one thing straight.” “Right now, you are the one accusing me.” “Based on the principle of ‘innocent until proven guilty,’ the burden of proof is on you.” “First, you prove that this specific tube of lipstick is yours. Then, and only then, will we discuss anything else.” I intended to disrupt her rhythm and force her to follow my logic. Brooke stunned for a moment, then her chest began to heave with rage. “Fine! You want proof? I’ll give you proof!” She glared at me fiercely, pulled out her phone, and tapped aggressively on the screen. Very quickly, she held up her phone. The screen clearly displayed an order confirmation for an international personal shopper service. “See that?!” She held the phone screen out for everyone to see, her voice boasting. “This is my purchase record.” “Where’s yours? If you can’t produce it, it means you’re hiding something.” 2 People around us began to nod, as if they had already passed a verdict of “guilty” on me. I ignored their looks, calmly pulled out my own phone, and pulled up a text conversation with a friend. “I actually didn’t buy this lipstick myself,” I said frankly, displaying my phone screen to everyone. On the screen, the conversation between my friend and me was clearly visible. “This was a gift from a friend.” I pointed to the timestamp on the chat record; it was from a week ago. It showed messages my friend had sent while traveling, saying she had specifically picked up this lipstick as a surprise for me. The expressions around the room shifted from doubt to understanding. “Looks like it really was just a misunderstanding. It was a gift.” “Exactly. Audrey doesn’t seem like she’s strapped for cash; why would she steal?” “Brooke was a bit too sensitive this time. Maybe she’s just in a bad mood because she lost something.” “She’s never gotten along with Audrey anyway. You don’t think she did this on purpose, do you?” The atmosphere in the office instantly became strained. People whispered among themselves. The suspicion originally directed at me dissipated instantly, replaced by judgment aimed at Brooke. Someone started advising her. “Brooke, since it’s a misunderstanding, you should apologize to Audrey.” “Yeah, you were a bit harsh with your words earlier.” Brooke bit her lip tightly, not saying a word. Asking her to apologize to me was probably harder than asking her to swallow glass. She took a deep breath, attempting one final struggle. “My lipstick really is gone! We have had professional disagreements, but I wouldn’t make something like this up!” “I lost something, and she just happens to be using the exact same kind. It’s normal for me to get confused!” Her logic was that her “misunderstanding” was excusable. I put my phone away and crossed my arms, mimicking the exact posture she had used moments ago. “Okay. So?” I countered calmly. “The misunderstanding is cleared up now. Facts prove I didn’t take your things.” “You need to formally apologize right now for publicly slandering me in front of everyone.” Brooke’s face was a map of conflict and reluctance. 3 Just as she was stuck between a rock and a hard place, a male voice rang out. “I don’t think this situation is that simple.” Caleb Stone stood up from his seat. He had just been transferred to our department a few months ago, and no one knew him very well. Nobody expected him to speak up at this moment. In an instant, every eye in the room snapped toward him. He pushed up his glasses, walked slowly into the middle of the room, his expression serious. “Text records can be easily faked, can’t they?” With his opening statement, he directly invalidated my evidence. I narrowed my eyes at Caleb. He didn’t look at me, but spoke to the surrounding colleagues instead. “A few days ago, around noon on Tuesday, most people had gone to the cafeteria. I came back to grab something and saw Audrey standing right by Brooke’s desk.” “There were barely any people in the office then, so I didn’t think much of it.” “But looking back now, her demeanor… seemed a little sneaky.” He was very precise with his wording: “seemed,” “sneaky.” Highly suggestive. “And, let’s not forget, the nominations for the department manager promotion are coming out next month.” “Audrey and Brooke are the two strongest contenders in our department.” “At a time like this, if a scandal about stealing broke out involving one of them, what kind of blow would that be to her career?” He surveyed the room, his voice not loud, but carrying a tone of seeing through everything. “So, is it possible—” “That someone deliberately set this whole thing up? They obtained the lipstick first, forged a text thread, and then intentionally used it today to bait Brooke.” “The goal being to destroy a rival’s reputation during the critical promotion window.” “To make everyone think Brooke is petty and casually accuses colleagues, thereby rallying people to their side and locking in support early.” 4 Caleb finished his speech. A collective gasp of realization rippled through the crowd. “My god, is corporate competition really this cutthroat?” “Playing dirty tricks like that is disgusting!” “I always thought Audrey was quiet, turns out she’s got deep schemes.” “There’s nothing more toxic than a catfight. This is why women can’t be leaders!” Everyone settled in with a spectator mentality, waiting to see how I would handle this. Normally, the person who should be the most smug, the one to immediately jump on this bandwagon, would be Brooke. As long as she nodded along with Caleb’s words, I wouldn’t be able to clear my name even if I had a hundred mouths. Yet, she didn’t look smug. She just frowned deeply, looking at Caleb, her eyes filled with complexity. On the other hand, amidst the wave of chatter turning against me, Caleb calmly pushed up his glasses. A faint smile of satisfaction touched the corner of his mouth. I took all of this in, finding it absurd yet hilarious. I looked up at him and spoke directly. “Oh my god, seriously, guy?” “Brooke and I—two women—are bickering over a stupid tube of lipstick, and you, a grown man, jump out to insert yourself? Trying to act like you’re some genius profiler?” “And you’ve got it all painted out so vividly. Saw me by Brooke’s desk on Tuesday at noon? Are your eyes connected to the security cameras, or did you just hallucinate that?” “Let me tell you, on Tuesday at noon, I wasn’t even in the office.” I took a step forward, staring him down. “Furthermore, even if Brooke and I are professional rivals, I, Audrey Miller, will only win based on merit. Playing low-class, underhanded tricks like that? I’d be worried about dirtying my hands.” “But you, on the other hand.” I shifted the attack, my voice turning icy cold. “An outside hire who’s barely been in the department for two months, and you’re already this desperate to pick a side and muddy the waters.” “Escalating a personal disagreement between Brooke and me into a promotion conspiracy theory.” “Did you really think we couldn’t see your desperate desire to snatch that manager position?” Those words were like a resounding slap in the face to Caleb. His expression twisted instantly, a flash of panic darting through his eyes. He stammered in defense: “You… you’re lying! I saw it with my own eyes! You say you weren’t here, but who can prove that?” That question hit a nerve, and the surrounding people began to whisper among themselves. “Yeah, there needs to be proof.” “Just saying you weren’t here isn’t convincing.” “Audrey, I remember asking you to go to lunch on Tuesday, and you said you weren’t going. You were left in the office.” 5 In that nearly frozen atmosphere, a voice rose that no one expected. “I can prove it.” The speaker was Brooke Davis. For a moment, everyone was stunned, including Caleb. Chapter 2 He looked at Brooke in disbelief: “Brooke, you…” Brooke ignored him. She took a deep breath, as if she had made a difficult resolution. Her cheeks flushed an unnatural shade of red, and she darted her eyes away, not daring to look at anyone. Under the prodding and questioning gazes of the crowd. She used almost all her strength to get the words out completely. “On Tuesday at noon, everyone had gone to lunch. In the office… there was only me and her.” “That day… I had an emergency with my period. It stained my white skirt.” As soon as these words came out, an uproar erupted in the office. The faces of several female colleagues softened with understanding and sympathy. Brooke’s face grew even redder, and she gripped the hem of her jacket. “At the time… Audrey was the only person left in the office. She saw it, didn’t say anything, and just… just went out and bought me pads and a new pair of pants.” “Audrey, I’m sorry.” “The lipstick… I probably just misplaced it myself somewhere. I shouldn’t have suspected you.” Finishing her sentence, she turned and ran quickly out of the office. The colleagues who had been righteously accusing me moments ago now looked at each other, their expressions awkward and complex. “Cough, looks like it was all just a misunderstanding.” “I told you so. We’re colleagues; why would there be so much plotting?” “Someone just intentionally steered the conversation. It was a small thing to begin with; glad it’s cleared up.” Caleb Stone had become the sole clown in this farce. He cleared his throat, forcing a smile that looked more painful than crying, and said to me: “Um… looks like I saw wrong. Audrey, I’m really sorry. Be the bigger person and don’t take it to heart.” I gave him a cold look and let out a light huff. “A grown man, spreading gossip everywhere without knowing the truth. Acting like a little office busybody… it’s a pathetic look.” After saying that, I ignored him, lowered my head, and continued with my work. I originally thought this matter ended there. After all, Brooke and I argued constantly, clashing over work priorities every other day—it was our normal state. We didn’t actually have a bad relationship; we weren’t genuine enemies. Our work philosophies just frequently diverged, leading to arguments whenever our opinions didn’t align. We’d argue and then drop it, never truly holding a grudge. But I never dreamed that someone would use this little friction between Brooke and me as a tool for corporate warfare.

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In the fall of 1982, my husband, Captain Arthur Hayes, was awarded a Meritorious Service Medal. The base hosted a massive twelve-table banquet to celebrate. No one bothered to tell me. By the time I rushed back, the banquet was long over, and there wasn’t a single scrap of food left on the stove. Sarah, the widow of his fallen squadmate, was sitting in our living room, sipping from a steaming bowl of homemade chicken stew. Her daughter was happily chewing on a piece of saltwater taffy. My own daughter was squatting by the kitchen door, gnawing on a stale, cold biscuit. Arthur cast a cold glance my way. “You’re finally back? Sarah is due any day now. Go wash up and help her.” In my past life, I wouldn’t have dared to disobey. Because he was an officer. Because my mother-in-law used “Christian charity” and “family duty” to crush my spirit. Because Sarah was a Gold Star widow, and the entire base had babied her. I spent twenty years serving them, until I was lying in a hospital hallway, dying of stage-four stomach cancer. That was when I finally heard the whispers from the nurses. Both of Sarah’s children belonged to Arthur. When I died, he didn’t even show up. Living a second time, I crouched down, took the cold biscuit out of my daughter’s hands, and handed her a fresh cupcake I had bought in town. Then I stood up. “Arthur, I want a divorce.” The living room fell dead silent. The bowl of chicken stew in Sarah’s hands hit the edge of the table, spilling halfway. The little girl riding on Arthur’s shoulders burst into loud wails. Arthur set the child down, handed her to Sarah, and took long strides toward the kitchen door. He was in his dress uniform, the top two buttons undone. He was frowning at me, looking exactly as he had in my past life. “What did you just say?” “A divorce.” I didn’t back down. I crouched to wipe the frosting off Chloe’s mouth. “I think I spoke clearly enough.” Arthur froze for three seconds, then let out a cold laugh. “Eleanor, have you lost your mind?” My mother-in-law, Martha, stormed out of the back room, holding a freshly baked pie meant for Sarah. “Divorce? You think you can just marry into the Hayes family and leave whenever you please?” I ignored her. I stood up, brushed the dust off my knees, and looked Arthur dead in the eye. In my past life, I had cried, screamed, and begged on my knees in front of this man. His response was always an impatient rub of his temples, as if I were nothing but a nuisance. “I’m going to the county courthouse tomorrow.” I took Chloe’s little hand and walked toward the door. Arthur grabbed my arm, his grip so tight my bones ached. In my past life, I would have endured it. He was a soldier, a decorated hero. The whole town said I was lucky to bag a man like him. What else could I do but endure? This time, I violently wrenched my arm free. “Touch me again, and I’m walking straight into the Base Commander’s office.” Arthur froze completely. He cared about that uniform more than his own life. I had never used it to threaten him before. He couldn’t believe those words came out of my mouth. Sarah hurried out of the living room holding her child, her eyes red. Her voice was soft and sickeningly sweet. “Eleanor, is this because of me? If I’m making you unhappy, I’ll pack my bags and go.” In my past life, the moment she said that, Arthur would explode at me for being petty and jealous. Then Sarah would cry, Martha would yell at me, and the cycle would repeat infinitely. This time, I didn’t even bother to entertain her performance. I led Chloe out the front gate, leaving Martha’s curses and Sarah’s perfectly timed sobs behind me. Chloe looked up at me. “Mommy, where are we going?” “To Grandpa and Grandma’s house.” As we walked out of the neighborhood, I glanced back. Arthur was standing at the gate, silhouetted against the light. I couldn’t see his expression. He didn’t chase after us. Exactly as I expected. From the Hayes’ house to my parents’ farmhouse was a forty-minute walk down a dirt road. Halfway there, Chloe couldn’t walk anymore, so I crouched down and carried her on my back. A five-year-old child, and she was terrifyingly light. She weighed less than the backpack of books I had lugged back from the city. It was the same in my past life. She never had enough to eat or warm enough clothes. Any good thing that came into the house went straight to Sarah and her kid. I only fought back once. It was when Sarah’s daughter and Chloe both caught a high fever at the same time. There was only one bottle of Children’s Tylenol left in the house. Martha gave it all to Sarah’s kid. I carried my burning daughter and ran three miles to the clinic. By the time we got there, Chloe was having febrile seizures. When Arthur found out, what did he say? “Sarah’s child has a weaker constitution. As a mother, how can you not see the bigger picture?” That night, sitting in the yard holding Chloe, I realized for the first time that this marriage was hopeless. But hopeless or not, I couldn’t leave. Martha crushed me with family duty, the neighbors guilt-tripped me with Sarah’s “widow” status, and Arthur’s single phrase—”You’re being unreasonable”—could turn the whole base against me. I didn’t understand the law. I didn’t know how to file for divorce, or how military custody worked. Back then, aside from crying, I knew nothing. This life was different. I had studied for four years at the State Teachers College. Right before graduation, I secured a teaching contract at a high school in the city. In my past life, I gave up that contract for Arthur. I didn’t even mention it to him. The Dean told me he would hold the position until the end of the month. I had twelve days left. When we reached the farmhouse, my dad, Thomas, was chopping wood in the yard. Seeing me carrying Chloe, the axe almost slipped and hit his foot. “Ellie? Aren’t you supposed to be in the city?” “Dad, I’m divorcing Arthur.” My dad froze. The wood in his arms tumbled to the dirt. My mom, Mary, poked her head out of the kitchen. She beamed when she saw Chloe, but the second she processed the word “divorce,” the color drained from her face. “Are you crazy? Arthur is an officer! Half the girls in the county would kill for a husband like him—” “He’s keeping another woman and her kids in our house,” I said, cutting her off. I set Chloe down and nudged her toward the kitchen to find a snack, lowering my voice. “Let me come home.” My mom stood paralyzed. My dad slowly stood up straight, his face turning an iron-grey. “Is what you’re saying true?” “Every word.” There was a long silence. My dad drove his axe hard into a tree stump. “Mary, stop crying. Our girl is home. Fry up a chicken.” Early the next morning, I went to the county courthouse. It was a cramped room with two desks and faded posters on the wall. The clerk recognized me. “Eleanor, what brings you in?” “I need to file for divorce.” He pushed his glasses up his nose. “Your husband is Captain Hayes out at the base, right? Is he with you?” “Not yet. I want to know the process first.” The clerk flipped through a binder, looking uncomfortable. “A divorce requires both parties to sign, unless you want a drawn-out battle. He’s military, Eleanor. The courts around here favor the uniform. If he contests it, and you don’t have a lawyer, the judge won’t grant it. And he could sue for full custody.” The uniform. That uniform had locked me in a cage for a lifetime. But I had spent time in the college library looking up family law. The law protects the soldier, yes. But if the soldier has committed a major fault—that’s a different story. “What if the officer is at fault?” I asked. “For example, living in adultery.” The clerk’s hand stopped. He looked up. My expression was completely calm. He cleared his throat. “Do you… have proof?” I smiled, didn’t answer, and turned to walk out. Arthur would never agree to a divorce voluntarily. Not because he loved me. But because of his pride. A decorated officer getting dumped by his wife? It was a scandal. Furthermore, he needed me as his “legal wife” to serve as a smokescreen while he kept his mistress in the house. In my past life, I was that smokescreen. Used for twenty years, torn and tattered, and he couldn’t even be bothered to replace me. Only after I died did he finally make Sarah his legal wife. Standing outside the courthouse, I thought for a moment, then headed to the post office. I mailed two letters. One to the Dean at the college, confirming I would take the teaching position. The second to my college roommate, Joan. She worked at a radio station in the city, and her husband was a court clerk there. In my past life, I was too embarrassed to ask for help and carried all the suffering myself. This time, I understood: use the connections you have, borrow the strength you can. I wasn’t stealing or cheating; I was just refusing to be a victim. After mailing the letters, I stood on the post office steps. The August sun was merciless. Squatting outside the local diner across the street was a man in fatigues. Arthur’s aide, Private Miller. He jogged over, a fake smile plastered on his face, his tone dripping with condescension. “Mrs. Hayes, the Captain told me to give you a message. He says you need to hurry back. Sarah is about to pop, and the house can’t run without you.” In my past life, this was the guy who constantly badmouthed me to Arthur. “Your wife is so narrow-minded, Captain.” “Sarah has it so rough, why can’t your wife just be a little generous?” I looked at Private Miller and gave him a cold smile. “You go back and tell Arthur Hayes that if Sarah is having a baby, he needs to find a doctor, not me. I’m a teacher, not a midwife.” Miller’s mouth hung open. He choked on his words. I didn’t look at him again. I walked into the general store and bought a tin of premium coffee and a box of Carnation instant milk. The coffee for my mom. The milk for Chloe. From now on, I was only serving the people I cared about. Back at the farmhouse, I mixed a cup of warm milk for Chloe. She held the enamel mug with both hands, drinking it sip by sip. When she was done, she licked the rim clean. Watching her do that made my chest physically ache. In my past life, all the milk powder went to Sarah’s kid. Martha used to say, “That poor child has no father, we can’t let her starve.” But what about my Chloe? Her father was alive and well, yet she lived worse than an orphan. I crouched down and wiped the milk mustache off Chloe’s face. “Chloe, Mommy is going to take you to a place far, far away. There’s a giant school there, and lots of kids to play with. Do you want to go?” Chloe nodded eagerly. Then she hesitated. “Is Daddy coming?” “No.” “What about Auntie Sarah?” “Not her either.” Chloe thought for a second, put down the mug, and wrapped both her little arms around my neck. “Wherever Mommy goes, I go.” That afternoon, my dad went out for a while. When he came back, he had a canvas pouch in his hand. He opened it—a stack of cash. “This is the money we’ve been saving for your brother Sam’s wedding. You borrow it first. Pay me back once you’re settled in the city.” “Dad—” “Don’t be polite with your old man.” He pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. “I went to see Mr. Miller, the town accountant. His daughter works at the county office.” Scrawled on the paper was a name and an address. Women’s Legal Aid Society. Helen Carter. “Mr. Miller says finding this Director Helen is a lot more useful than you fighting the courthouse alone.” I gripped the piece of paper, my eyes burning. In my past life, my dad never knew the truth. He thought I had a good life. Even on his deathbed, he mumbled, “My Ellie married an officer… she’s living the good life.” In this life, I wouldn’t let him die carrying a lie. On the third day, I went to the Women’s Legal Aid Society. Helen was in her early forties, with a sharp bob cut. Her voice wasn’t loud, but every word had weight. I told her the entire story from beginning to end. No crying, no hysterics. Like giving a professional briefing, I laid out the dates, the people, the details. When I finished, Helen slammed her coffee mug onto the desk. “Son of a bitch.” She wasn’t cursing at me. “Eleanor, do you have proof?” “No physical proof yet. But Sarah’s husband, Sergeant Davis, was killed in action in February 1979. Her first child was born in March 1981.” “Unless she was pregnant for twenty-four months.” Helen’s pen stopped. She narrowed her eyes. “How do you know Davis’s exact date of death?” “When I was at college, I went to the state military archives and looked it up. I had my suspicions the first time Sarah moved into our house, but I was too much of a coward to face the truth.” Helen stared at me for a long time. “You’re a smart woman.” “But I was stupid for a whole lifetime,” I replied. Helen didn’t understand what I meant by that, but she didn’t pry. She stood up and pulled a manila envelope from her filing cabinet. “I’ll help you with the divorce. But you need to do something for me. Take this letter of introduction. Go to Sergeant Davis’s old base and pull his records. Get his death certificate and the child’s birth certificate. Once we have it in black and white, he won’t be able to deny a thing.” I nodded. “I’ll go.” “How long until your teaching offer expires?” “End of the month. Nine days.” “We have time.” Helen handed me the letter. “Come straight to me when you get back. I’ll go with you to the Base Commander.” I took the envelope, stood up, and gave her a deep bow. Helen waved her hand. “Don’t thank me. Your situation isn’t unique. There’s a lot of rot hidden under rugs in this county.” On the fourth day, I rode a Greyhound bus all day to reach Sergeant Davis’s old base. The man who received me was a Lieutenant Brooks. He read Helen’s letter and pulled the files. Black and white. Sergeant Davis. Killed in Action: February 17, 1979. Sarah’s eldest daughter: Born March 4, 1981. A gap of exactly two years and one month. I copied the dates into my notebook. Lieutenant Brooks watched me, his expression complex. “Why are you looking into this?” “Family matters.” He didn’t ask further. But as I got up to leave, he suddenly called out to me. “There’s something I don’t know if I should mention.” I stopped. Chapter 2 “When Sarah came to collect the survivor benefits years ago, an officer came with her. He claimed to be Davis’s squadmate. Last name was Hayes.” Brooks sighed. “Sarah was heavily pregnant at the time. This Hayes guy had his arm around her the entire time. We all assumed they were husband and wife.” I gripped my notebook, my knuckles turning white. In my past life, I had cowered in that house for twenty years. Everyone knew the truth, and I was the only one kept in the dark. “Thank you,” I said softly. The bus ride back was incredibly bumpy. Outside the window, endless stretches of dusty fields and sparse poplar trees rolled by. Leaning against the glass, I felt completely at peace. In my past life, learning the truth felt like the sky was caving in. In this life, these papers were just the bargaining chips for my freedom. I rushed back to town on the evening of the fifth day and went straight to Helen. She reviewed the documents I brought back and slapped the desk. “Ironclad.” “Day after tomorrow, we go see the Base Commander.” When I got back to the farmhouse, my mom told me Arthur had come by. “He brought that aide of his. Acting all fierce, demanding you go home immediately.” “And then what?” I asked. “Your dad chased him three blocks down the street with a pitchfork. Didn’t catch him, though.” I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. In my past life, when Arthur came to fetch me, my dad slaughtered our best chicken to welcome him. Because he thought his son-in-law was a respectable officer, his daughter’s pride and joy. In this life, he knew the truth. A pitchfork was much more fitting than a chicken. My mom sat by the stove, wiping her tears, muttering old sayings about how a married daughter is like spilled water—you can’t take her back. My dad, peeling an apple for Chloe, snapped back: “What spilled water? My daughter is a flowing river. If one pond is too small for her, she’ll just wash it away and keep moving.” Chloe took a bite of the apple and chimed in: “Grandpa is right! Mommy is a mighty river!” The whole room burst out laughing. It was the first genuine smile I had worn since my rebirth. On the seventh day, Helen took me to the base headquarters. We didn’t go to the Hayes house. We went straight to the chain of command. Colonel Vance was an older veteran in his fifties. After reading the documents, he sat in absolute silence for a long time. “Are you sure you want to take this step?” he asked, looking at me. “Captain Hayes was just awarded a commendation.” “Colonel, his medals belong to him, but his sins are his too,” I said. My voice wasn’t loud, but it didn’t shake. “One does not cancel out the other.” Helen added from the side: “The violation of military conduct and adultery are clear and proven. You can’t sweep this under the rug just because he has a medal.” Colonel Vance sighed and ordered someone to fetch Arthur. Twenty minutes later, Arthur pushed the door open. He obviously didn’t know I was there. The moment he saw me, his footsteps faltered. Then he saw Helen, and the documents spread across the Colonel’s desk. The color drained from his face, inch by inch. “Eleanor. You’re throwing a tantrum at Command HQ now?” His tone carried that suppressed, icy rage. In my past life, that tone would make my knees buckle. This time, I remained seated, perfectly still. “I’m not throwing a tantrum. I’m here to finalize our divorce.” “I refuse,” Arthur shot back, a conditioned reflex. Colonel Vance cleared his throat and pushed the files toward him. “Captain Hayes. Look at these yourself.” Arthur looked down. Whatever blood was left in his face vanished entirely. Davis’s KIA report. The birth certificate of Sarah’s child. The written testimony from Lieutenant Brooks at the old base. The timeline, in black and white. He looked up at me. His lips moved, but no sound came out. I had known Arthur Hayes for ten years. It was the first time I had ever seen this expression on his face. Not anger. Not impatience. It was the sheer terror of a man stripped naked in public. “When… when did you investigate this?” “Does it matter?” I asked. He opened his mouth, then suddenly turned to the Colonel, his voice dropping low. “Colonel, this is a private family matter, could we please—” “Captain Hayes.” Vance cut him off. He didn’t yell, but his voice was crushing. “Are you worthy of the medal pinned to your chest?” The office was dead silent for a full thirty seconds. Helen pulled the divorce papers from her briefcase and set them on the table. “Sign it,” I said. “We have nothing left to talk about.” Arthur didn’t sign it right away. He gripped the edge of the desk so hard his knuckles turned white. Finally, he forced the words through his teeth: “Give me two days.” I was about to refuse—in my past life, his “just wait a little longer” was always a stalling tactic, dragging things out until I softened, until I compromised. But Colonel Vance spoke up first. “Two days. Not a second more.” Helen looked at me. I nodded. Not because my heart was soft. But because I had five days left until the end of the month. I had plenty of time.

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They say no one remembers who comes in second place. Unless, of course, you’re the one who’s always in second place. After securing the rank of salutatorian for three consecutive years in high school, I had grown numb to it. I calmly accepted my fate as the eternal runner-up. That was until the early college admissions quotas came down. Our homeroom teacher called me and the valedictorian into his office at the same time. “We have two early admission spots for the Ivy League program,” Mr. Davis said, pushing two sheets of paper across his desk. “Based on academic ranking, the spots go to you two.” “Fill out these recommendation forms.” I nodded. I quickly and meticulously filled out the entire form. Just as I was about to hand it back to Mr. Davis, the valedictorian—who had been standing off to the side, completely motionless—finally moved. He reached out, snatched my form right out of my hand, ripped it into shreds, and tossed the pieces into the air. With an icy glare, he declared: “I’ll accept the early admission. But on one condition.” “Chloe has to be admitted with me.” I let out a cynical laugh. Wow. The delusional romantic is really flexing his muscles. The white pieces of paper fluttered down in front of my eyes like snow. After shredding my recommendation form, Arthur Sterling dusted off his hands, looked straight at our homeroom teacher, and said coldly: “Mr. Davis, I will accept the admission spot, but Chloe Miller must go with me.” As the words left his mouth, a deathly silence fell over the office. After what felt like an eternity, Mr. Davis pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, asking in total bewilderment: “Arthur, do you have any idea what you’re saying?” “I know exactly what I’m saying.” Arthur stood tall, one hand casually shoved into his pocket. “Either Chloe and I both get early admission, or I don’t want the spot at all.” What a tragic, earth-shattering love story. If he wasn’t trying to use my admission spot as a bargaining chip, I almost would have been moved to tears. Mr. Davis’s chest was heaving with anger. The finger he pointed at Arthur was visibly trembling. “You… you are being absolutely ridiculous! Early admission spots are strictly based on academic ranking! Do you not know what rank Chloe is in this school?!” “I make the rules.” Arthur’s tone was incredibly flat and arrogant. “These are my terms. Think it over carefully.” I didn’t say a word. I just stood there, calmly watching this absurd, melodramatic play unfold. Mr. Davis stared at him for a solid thirty seconds. Finally, looking as if all the energy had been drained out of him, he slumped back into his leather chair. He waved his hand, his voice heavy with profound disappointment. “Get out. I don’t want to see your face right now.” Arthur didn’t even bother with a polite goodbye. He turned on his heel and walked out, acting as if he already held all the winning cards. The office door clicked shut, cutting off the noise from the hallway. Mr. Davis let out a long, heavy sigh. He pulled open a drawer, took out a brand-new, blank recommendation form, and slid it across the desk toward me. “Stella, fill this out again.” His voice was a little hoarse. “The school has two spots. If Arthur forfeits his, the spot automatically rolls down to the student ranked third.” I carefully wrote out my name and intended major, stroke by stroke. I almost wanted to burst out laughing. Has Arthur been watching too many teen soap operas? Who exactly does he think he’s posturing for? When I returned to the classroom, I carefully folded the new, completed form and tucked it into the hidden pocket of my backpack. The very next second, a shadow fell over my desk. It was Chloe. She had specifically worn a brand-new lace sundress today. She leaned forward, bracing both hands on the edge of my desk. Her sickly-sweet voice dripped with undisguised gloating: “Stella, what’s the point of having good grades? In the end, it all amounted to nothing, didn’t it?” “When it comes down to it, I’m just luckier. Arthur is willing to give up everything for me.” As she spoke, her eyes were shining. She looked exactly as if she believed she was the beloved main character in a romantic teen drama. Right on cue, Arthur appeared behind her, naturally wrapping his arm around her shoulders in a protective, possessive stance. He looked down at me, using a condescending, pitying tone: “Sorry for taking your opportunity, but Chloe can’t be without me.” “You know how it is. I can’t just let her go off to an out-of-state college all by herself. I wouldn’t be able to stop worrying.” They played off each other flawlessly, their duet practically seamless. They were clearly waiting for me to break down, demand answers, or burst into tears. The eyes of the surrounding classmates covertly darted over, eager to see how this dramatic spectacle would end. Unfortunately for them, they were going to be deeply disappointed. I leaned back in my chair, looking at this couple acting out a soap opera scene right in front of my desk, and suddenly found it incredibly hilarious. So, I actually let out a light, genuine laugh. “Are you guys done?” My reaction was clearly not what they had anticipated. The smug smile on Chloe’s face froze, and Arthur’s brow furrowed slightly. I ignored them completely. I pulled out my AP Physics prep book, flipped to the page I hadn’t finished yesterday, spun my pen, and started solving the final free-response question. The air in the room seemed to solidify. The lines they had so carefully rehearsed, the emotional performance they had put on… It was all completely blocked and suffocated by my flat, apathetic reaction. It was like punching a pillow—not even a sound came back. Ultimately, Arthur grabbed Chloe’s hand and stalked away from my desk, looking incredibly sullen and frustrated. As they walked away, I could hear Chloe’s indignant, hushed complaining: “Arthur, did you see her attitude?!” Arthur comforted her softly: “Ignore her. She’s just a sore loser.” My pen paused for a fraction of a second as I wrote down the final answer on my scratch paper. I had never entertained the thought of arguing with someone who was already destined to be eliminated from the game. What they didn’t realize was… Their grand performance, in my eyes, was nothing but a premature, pathetic one-man show. And I didn’t even have the slightest interest in being part of the audience. Ever since that day, Arthur and Chloe genuinely believed they had both secured early admission. As a result, they completely checked out and stopped trying. During morning homeroom, their desks were empty. During first period, they would stroll in right as the bell rang, carrying iced coffees and breakfast sandwiches from off-campus. By afternoon periods, they simply stopped showing up altogether. Rumors about them flooded the campus. Someone saw them catching the latest romance movie at the downtown theater. Someone bumped into them playing the claw machines at the mall arcade. Someone else snapped a photo of them holding hands while strolling around the lake park and posted it on the school’s anonymous forum. In the gray, high-stress, suffocating environment of senior year, they became the only splash of reckless, uninhibited color. Everyone was envious of them. Envious of Arthur’s profound devotion, envious of Chloe’s incredible luck. A perfect match—the genius valedictorian throwing away his bright future for love. It was practically the script for ‘Teen Romance of the Year.’ And in this script, I became the ungrateful, bitterly jealous, villainous side character. Once, while filling up my water bottle in the hallway, I overheard two girls whispering. “Look at Stella. All she does is study all day. She’s so boring.” “I know, right? She must be insanely jealous of Chloe. What’s the point of having good grades if you still get kicked out of the early admission spots in the end?” I finished filling my bottle and walked right past them, my face entirely expressionless. Jealous? Absolutely unnecessary. I just felt that, standing right before the finish line, watching two runners who mistakenly believed they had already crossed it begin their premature victory laps… It was a behavior that severely challenged the lower limits of my cognitive understanding. My final act of charity happened exactly thirty days before the SATs and final exams. During evening study hall, the classroom was so quiet you could only hear the scratching of pens on paper. Miraculously, Arthur and Chloe had actually shown up. But they didn’t bring any textbooks. Instead, they were using their phones to look up itineraries for a post-graduation senior trip. “Let’s go to the beach, Arthur! I want to take aesthetic photos in pretty sundresses,” Chloe said. Her voice wasn’t exactly shouting, but it was loud enough for everyone in our immediate radius to hear. “Okay. Whatever you want,” Arthur replied, his tone so sickeningly sweet it could give you cavities. The guy sitting in front of me ruffled his hair in absolute frustration. Finally, he couldn’t hold it in anymore and turned around, whispering harshly: “Hey, you two. Can you keep it down? You’re distracting everyone who’s actually trying to study.” Chloe immediately pushed out her bottom lip, looking incredibly wronged, and turned her big, sad eyes toward Arthur. Arthur looked up, his eyes turning cold. “Is our conversation bothering you?” The guy shrank back under Arthur’s aggressive glare and didn’t dare say another word. I put my pen down, turned around, and looked directly at Arthur. “There are thirty days left. Are you absolutely certain you want to waste your time on this?” Hearing my words, Arthur let out a scoff. He leaned back in his chair, looking at me with overwhelming pity. “Stella, did you forget? You’re the one who didn’t get early admission. Not me.” He enunciated every single word, making sure they were crystal clear. “You should spend more time worrying about yourself. It’d be a real embarrassment if you can’t even score high enough to get into a decent state school.” Chloe sat next to him, covering her mouth as she let out a light, mocking giggle, immediately chiming in: “Yeah, Stella. Thanks for caring about us, but we really don’t need your concern.” I nodded slowly and turned back around to face the front. “Okay.” From that day forward, I never spoke a single word to either of them. I watched them live every day basking in the imaginary halo of being “early admitted scholars,” enjoying their final, delusional carnival. Time flew by. Soon, it was time for the final mock exams. When the massive red bulletin board displaying the school-wide rankings was posted, the entire hallway erupted in chaos. Unsurprisingly, I saw my own name right at the very top. Rank 1. Valedictorian. As for Arthur’s name… I had to scan for a very long time before I finally found it, buried in a corner in the lower-middle section of the board. An unprecedented, historically catastrophic drop: Rank 173. As I was looking, Arthur and Chloe pushed their way through the crowd, holding hands. They saw the ranking board. They saw my name at the top. And they saw Arthur’s name, which had plummeted off a cliff. The surrounding area fell into a dead silence. Everyone held their breath, eager to see how the former golden boy would react to this. But Arthur just shrugged carelessly. He pulled Chloe closer, whispered something in her ear, and the two of them exchanged a look before actually bursting into laughter. Finally, completely ignoring everyone around them, they turned and walked away. I watched their retreating backs disappear at the end of the hallway, and let out a soft, quiet exhale. The day of the final exams, the sun was almost blindingly bright. The school gates were packed with anxious parents dropping off their kids. I found a spot in the shade of a large oak tree, leaning against the trunk leisurely, waiting for my best friend—who had very nearly forgotten to bring her exam admission ticket. “Stella?” A familiar, yet somewhat uncertain voice rang out. I looked up and saw two people who absolutely should not have been here—Arthur and Chloe. They were wearing casual street clothes, holding hands, looking like tourists visiting a local landmark. The moment they saw me, the expressions on their faces shifted from shock to a knowing, gloating schadenfreude. Arthur walked up, feigning concern as he asked: “Stella, why aren’t you going inside? They’re about to open the testing rooms. Don’t tell me… you’re giving up?” Chloe, standing behind him, didn’t say a word, but she raised a hand to elegantly cover her mouth as she giggled. “Don’t tell me you realized you didn’t have a chance, so you decided to just not take the test at all?” She delivered the vicious insult with her usual soft, delicate tone. “Honestly, it’s fine. You’re a girl, anyway. You don’t necessarily have to go to a top-tier university.” I watched their perfectly synchronized double act, and I smiled. Meeting his probing, arrogant gaze, I asked softly: “Arthur, did you know? The acceptance letters for the Ivy League early admission program were mailed out last week.” His expression froze for a fraction of a second. I paused, giving him ample time to process and savor the implications of my words. Then, I spoke, slowly and deliberately. “Did you get yours?” The chaotic noise of the crowd around us seemed to instantly mute. Arthur stared at me. For the very first time, a look of utter bewilderment—and a trace of panic he hadn’t even realized was there—appeared in his eyes. Instinctively, blankly, he shook his head. “Oh,” I nodded, the smile on my face deepening just a fraction. “Is that so?” “Because I got mine.” Chapter 2 The destructive power of that single sentence was far greater than I had anticipated. The color drained from Arthur’s face at a visible rate. In exactly one second, his expression morphed from shock to a deathly, ghastly white. His lips trembled. He looked like a fish suffocating on dry land. It took him a long time to finally force out a few choked words: “You’re… lying…” Chloe, standing behind him, finally realized something was catastrophically wrong. She yanked hard on his arm. “Arthur, don’t listen to her! She’s just jealous of us! Let’s go, ignore this psycho!” Arthur reacted as if he had been burned, violently ripping his arm out of her grasp. He stared dead at me, his eyes rapidly filling with bloodshot veins. It was the desperate, final struggle of a man watching his entire belief system collapse. “Impossible! Mr. Davis promised me! He said he’d transfer my spot to Chloe! You were the one who got cut!” I couldn’t be bothered to waste another syllable on him. Sometimes, silence is infinitely more powerful than any words you could speak. My absolute calm completely obliterated his final psychological defense. Looking like a madman, he shoved his way through the dense crowd of parents, screaming hoarsely as he sprinted toward the main administration building. “I’m going to find Mr. Davis! I’m going to demand an explanation!” Chloe hiked up her sundress and went stumbling after him, crying and screaming his name. My best friend, who had just arrived and witnessed the tail end of this circus, stared in open-mouthed shock. “What the hell just happened? What triggered the former golden boy?” I shrugged. “He probably just realized he’s a complete idiot.” We didn’t have to wait long. The warning bell for the exam hadn’t even rung yet when the former “power couple” burst out of the administration building, one after the other. The expressions on their faces were even more spectacular than when they went in. Arthur looked completely hollowed out, like a marionette whose strings had been violently severed. And Chloe? Her face was covered in tears, and her eyes burned with a venomous, unadulterated hatred. SMACK! A sharp, resounding slap echoed over the noisy campus gates. Using every ounce of her strength, Chloe viciously slapped Arthur across the face. Her shrill, hysterical screaming tore through the air. “Arthur Sterling! You liar! You ruined me! You destroyed my entire life!” Arthur held his cheek, staring at her in absolute disbelief. Then, he exploded too. “I ruined you?! Chloe, I threw away my early admission spot to an Ivy League school for you! And now you’re blaming me?!” “Did I ask you to throw it away?! YOU wanted to play the hero! YOU said you could handle everything! And now look?! What the hell am I supposed to do now?! I don’t even have a college to go to!” Chloe broke down completely, pounding her fists against his chest. “You’re just a selfish narcissist! You only care about making yourself feel like a martyr!” “What about you?! Weren’t you thrilled when it happened?! Now that things went south, you’re shoving all the blame onto me?!” Arthur roared, his eyes red and frantic. “If your grades weren’t so pathetic that you didn’t even qualify for the waitlist, would any of this have happened?!” That sentence was the spark that detonated the powder keg. Chloe lunged at him like a feral animal, scratching and tearing at his clothes, screaming the most vile, venomous curses imaginable. However sweet and romantic they used to be, that was exactly how humiliating and ugly they were right now. Their grand, earth-shattering love story, when confronted with brutal reality, was as fragile as wet tissue paper. The surrounding parents and students formed a tight circle around them, pointing and whispering, treating them like a free circus act. I calmly withdrew my gaze and turned to my best friend. “Let’s go. I’ll buy you a matcha latte.” My friend was still in a daze. “Huh? We’re not going to wait until they finish fighting?” I smiled, grabbed her hand, and turned away. Behind us, that pathetic, miserable brawl was still raging on, but I had absolutely zero interest in it. They were just two fools paying the inevitable price for their own stupidity and arrogance.

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They say time heals all wounds, but some scars are etched too deep into the soul to ever fade. They throb with the turning of the seasons, a constant reminder of what was lost, of the path not taken. For ten years, I lived in the shadow of a lie, a comfortable, golden lie built upon the ruins of my best friend’s dreams. Or so I thought. The truth is often far uglier, far more pathetic than the grand tragedies we imagine. My story isn’t one of brilliant criminal masterminds or vast, sinister conspiracies. It’s a story of a devastating mistake born of envy, pride, and a crushing, self-inflicted ignorance. And on the day of the Centennial Celebration at Redwood University, the most prestigious Ivy League school in the country, that mistake finally came hunting for me, bringing with it a reckoning I never saw coming. 1 “Maddie Sterling, I’m begging you—give me back my life!” The woman was a complete disaster. Her hair was a matted rat’s nest, and tear tracks cut through the grime on her face. She was on her knees in front of me on the manicured lawn of the Redwood University quad, her forehead hitting the stone pathway with sickening thuds. Blood began to seep from the breaking skin. “From the first day of freshman year, I treated you like my sister. How could you be so cruel? How could you push me into the abyss just so you could have the perfect life?” I stared down at her, my mind a blank slate of confusion. I squinted, trying to find a familiar feature in the ravaged face before me. It took a long, painful minute before the pieces clicked together. This was Chloe. Chloe Vance. My high school best friend. In high school, Chloe had been everything. Brilliant, gorgeous, popular. She carried herself with the terrifying confidence of a girl who knew the world was her oyster. But the woman kneeling before me was ancient. Her hair was streaked with gray, her spine was bowed as if breaking under an invisible weight, and she looked utterly consumed by misery. Seeing my old friend in such a horrific state sent a sharp pang of grief through my chest. Instinctively, I reached down to help her up. “Chloe, what on earth happened to you? Please, get up. Talk to me.” Chloe’s eyes snapped up, burning with a sudden, toxic hatred. She violently slapped my hand away. “What happened to me? You know exactly what happened to me, you sociopath!” “Maddie Sterling, you stole my life. You switched our SAT scores, took my spot at Redwood, and now you’re standing here as a tenured professor, soaking in the glory. Does it feel good? Do you feel accomplished?” “Did you ever once stop to think about how I spent the last ten years? I had nothing. No degree, no future. I worked eighteen-hour shifts on a factory assembly line just to feed myself, assembly lines so dangerous I lost three fingers when a machine crushed my hand, and I didn’t even get worker’s comp!” She was screaming now, thrusting her right hand into my face. The index, middle, and ring fingers were missing, leaving only ugly, gnarled stumps. I felt sick. I took a few steps back, my hands up in a defensive gesture. “Chloe, please. We were best friends for years. Why would you say something so horrible? Why would you accuse me of something like that?” “Accuse you?” Chloe shrieked, a wild, manic laugh bubbling up. “I don’t need to accuse you. I have proof!” 2 She yanked a thick manila folder from her oversized bag and hurled it into the air. Papers exploded outward, fluttering down around us like confetti at a nightmare parade. A crowd had already formed—students in university hoodies, proud parents visiting for Centennial weekend. They immediately began scrambling for the papers, their curiosity piqued by the drama. I bent down and picked one up. It was a photocopy of Chloe’s transcript from high school. Looking at the numbers, a wave of nostalgia washed over me, immediately followed by a dull ache. She really had been brilliant. Straight A’s, top percentile in every mock exam. She was a lock for any top-tier university she wanted. Then I looked at the very bottom of the page. It was the official report for her SAT scores from senior year. The score was zero. A cold hand clenched around my heart. In that moment, the mystery of senior year was finally solved. I finally understood why, after graduation, Chloe had vanished without a trace. She blocked my number, ignored my emails, and cut off contact with everyone we knew. I had spent years wondering if I had done something to hurt her, if our friendship had just meant less to her than it did to me. But I never could have imagined she was going through this kind of hell. While I was standing there, lost in my own grief for my friend, the atmosphere around me shifted violently. The murmurs from the crowd turned sharp, accusing. I looked up to find hundreds of eyes fixed on me, burning with judgment. “This is disgusting,” a woman muttered, hugging her acceptance folder to her chest. “How could anyone do that to their best friend?” “Redwood needs to address this immediately,” a man added, pulling his phone out to record. “This is a scandal. Don’t worry, honey,” he said, turning to Chloe, “we’ll help you. This won’t stand.” “Yes!” someone else shouted. “Tell us what you need. We’re on your side!” Amidst the chorus of support, Chloe began to weep again. She pushed herself up, staggering to her feet. She slowly, deliberately rolled up the leg of her faded jeans. “I want my life back,” she sobbed, her voice cracked and broken. “I want my body back. I want everything she stole from me!” A collective gasp sucked the air out of the quad. Chloe’s left leg, from the knee down, was a prosthetic made of carbon fiber and plastic. The crowd looked from the fake limb to me, their expressions hardening into pure, unadulterated rage. If looks could kill, I would have been torn apart on the spot. “Maddie Sterling, you ruined her,” a student seethed, stepping closer. “You’re a monster.” “You drive a luxury car and sit in an ivory tower while the friend who trusted you is forced to live like this? You deserve to rot!” My frustration was starting to boil over. This was insane. The accusations were getting more theatrical by the second, and I had no idea what game Chloe was trying to play. “Chloe, listen to me,” I said, my voice tight. “You are claiming I stole your scores. Do you have a single shred of actual evidence? Because this is slander, and I will sue you for it.” “Sue me?” Chloe whispered, fresh tears leaking from her eyes. “Of course you would. You’re the powerful professor, respected and untouchable. And I’m nothing. I’m scum on the bottom of your shoe. I have no power, no money, no voice. Of course I can’t win against you in court!” “But Maddie, answer me this. For ten years, every single month when you cashed your massive paycheck, every time you looked into the adoring eyes of your students… did your conscience ever bother you? Even once?” Seeing her play the victim so effectively, the crowd erupted again, their insults raining down on me. I let out a harsh, defeated sigh. “Chloe, I admit it. Your grades were incredible. Better than mine. I never denied that.” “But I swear to you, I did not steal your scores. Think about it logically. How would that even be possible? I didn’t know your personal information. How could I possibly pull off a conspiracy that massive? How could I trick the College Board, the university admissions, and everyone else?” Chloe listened to my defense, and a slow, terrifying smile spread across her face. Then, she threw her head back and laughed, a high-pitched, fragile sound that set my teeth on edge. “Maddie, I knew you’d say that. Of course you’d deny it. People like you never take responsibility.” “Maybe you couldn’t do it alone. But your father could. Our high school guidance counselor, Mr. Sterling? He knew everything about me.” “I found the proof, Maddie. I found the bank records showing the bribes your father paid to an insider at the testing center. If you don’t confess right now, I’m taking this entire family down. You can all rot in federal prison together!” My father… Samuel Sterling? The ground seemed to tilt beneath my feet. My heart hammered against my ribs, fueled by a terrifying mix of confusion and pure, blinding anger. “My father is not Samuel Sterling,” I seethed, each word a chip of ice. “His name is Robert Sterling. I told you that in high school. Why won’t you listen?” Chloe didn’t even hesitate. She lunged forward and slapped me, the crack echoing like a gunshot. “You’ve been planning to steal my future from the day we met, so of course you’d lie about something as simple as your father’s name!” “But it doesn’t matter, Maddie. You can deny the physical evidence all you want. But I have a witness!” Before I could process what was happening, a man pushed through the tight circle of the crowd. He stepped in front of Chloe, placing a protective hand on her shoulder, and looked at me with chilling indifference. “Maddie, I’m the witness Chloe was talking about.” The blood in my veins turned to ice. The man standing before me was my high school crush, the one I had pined over for years. The man I was currently dating, and whom I believed was the love of my life. Caleb Reynolds. 3 “I’m Maddie’s boyfriend, but I was also her classmate in high school. I can testify under oath that her grades were nowhere near Chloe’s. The only possible way she could have gotten into Redwood, let alone become a professor here, was by stealing Chloe’s scores.” The crowd, which had briefly been silenced by my confusion, erupted again with twice the fury. “Her own boyfriend is testifying against her! What more proof do you need?” “There’s no way out of this one, Maddie. The game is over. Confess!” I couldn’t speak. I just stared at Caleb, my mind trying to reconcile the man I loved with the person standing there destroy me. The pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place, creating a horrifying picture. A few days ago, when I received my official tenure offer from Redwood, I was so ecstatic I posted a picture of the letter on social media. That was when Caleb, who I hadn’t seen since high school, suddenly slid into my DMs. He told me he had a massive crush on me back then but was too intimidated to say anything. He suggested we grab a drink to catch up. I was on cloud nine. I thought my high school dream was finally coming true, that the crushing unrequited love of my youth was transforming into a beautiful reality. But looking back now, I realized how idiotic I had been. There was no love, no hidden pining. Caleb’s sudden appearance was a tactical move, part of a calculated trap. The fact that I had opened up to him completely, trusted him with my heart and my soul, only for him to turn around and commit the lowest form of betrayal… it was too much to bear. I felt like my heart had been physically ripped from my chest. I stared at him, my eyes silently pleading for him to tell me this was all a twisted joke. He didn’t even flinch. Instead, he pulled out his phone and began tapping on the screen. “I also have access to her financial records. I manage her accounts.” “Look at this. She spends five thousand dollars on a single dinner without even blinking. Every piece of jewelry she wears, every bag she owns, is a luxury item.” “But this lifestyle? The luxury, the security, the respect? This was supposed to be Chloe’s life!” As he listed my expenses, contrasting my life of luxury with Chloe, who was standing there in a threadbare coat in the middle of winter, the quad descended into chaos. The supporting crowd was ready to lynch me. The media reporters Chloe had brought with her swarmed me, thrusting microphones and cameras into my face, eager to document my downfall. “Maddie Sterling, for ten years, you have knowingly occupied a life that wasn’t yours. How do you sleep at night?” “You’ve been basking in the glory of being a professor at an elite university, adulated by everyone, while the ‘best friend’ you betrayed was forgotten on a factory floor. Do you feel even a shred of remorse for your catastrophic selfishness?” Hearing the wave of support for her, Chloe began to sob again. “Maddie, it’s been ten years. Everything I learned in high school is gone. Even if you gave me the chance to go back to school right now, I don’t have the money or the strength to do it.” “I have the evidence. I have the witness. I want justice, and I want compensation for everything you took from me. Ten million dollars. Not a penny less.” The quad erupted again, but this time, the reaction was mixed. “Ten million? Isn’t that a bit much? Whose ten years is worth ten million dollars?” “I think she’s asking for too little,” someone argued back. “Three fingers, a prosthetic leg, and a decade of brutal, crushing labor? If I offered you ten million dollars, would you swap places with her?” “No amount of money can truly heal the psychological trauma,” another voice chimed in. “I support her claim!” “Chloe, don’t cry anymore. Everyone is on your side,” a reporter cooed, checking her phone. “Look, the live stream of this is over a million viewers already. The whole world has seen what Maddie Sterling did to you. We’ll make sure you get the justice you deserve.” My heart did a painful flip-flop. I yanked my phone out and clicked on the live stream link someone had tweeted. The comments section was a toxic sludge of hatred. Hundreds of thousands of people were calling for my head. 【This woman is a parasite. I’m flooding Redwood’s official page right now demanding they fire her and press charges. Justice for Chloe!】 【Redwood needs to be held accountable for hiring a criminal. Maddie Sterling stole a life. Stripping her of her tenure isn’t enough; she needs to be in federal prison.】 My entire world was collapsing around me, online and offline. I let out a long, ragged sigh, held my hands up, and spoke the absolute truth. “Listen to me. You are all standing here accusing me of stealing Chloe’s life.” “But the truth is, I am not a tenured professor at Redwood University.” “In fact, I never even went to college.” 4 The quad descended into an uneasy silence before exploding with twice the fury. “Are you serious? Look at the coat you’re wearing, it’s brand new. The shoes on your feet are designer. Where did you get that money, Maddie? Everyone knows the truth. Stop lying!” “She’s clearly desperate,” another voice added. “Look at how well-maintained she is. She looks at least ten years younger than Chloe. Do you know how much money it costs to look like that? We aren’t idiots, Maddie. Stop the act!” “She definitely has money,” a student seethed. “She probably used the university prestige to bag some rich husband, and now she’s lying about her degree to avoid paying Chloe back!” They started surging forward, pushing and shoving me. In the chaos, I fumbled my car keys, and they clattered onto the stone pathway. Immediately, someone with sharp eyes spotted the key fob and shrieked. “That’s a key for a brand-new Ferrari! Those cars are over two hundred thousand dollars! You have money to throw around on luxury cars, but you don’t have money to compensate the friend whose life you stole?!” “This woman is pure evil. She needs to pay, right now! We aren’t letting her leave until she gives Chloe the money!” Hearing the wave of support, a look of smug triumph flashed in Chloe’s eyes. “Maddie, you enjoyed the life that was meant for me. You have to pay me back.” “The second the money hits my account, we’re even. I’ll walk away and never bother you again. This is my account information. Transfer it now.” She shoved her phone with the bank info into my face. Caleb stood right behind her, his gaze intense, waiting for me to break. I stared at her for a long, painful moment. Then, I used my hand to slap her phone away, and it clattered onto the pavement. “Chloe, are you serious? I already told you, I never went to college.” “I see what this is now. This whole thing—the performance, the witness—it’s all just a pathetic shakedown for money. Well, I have news for you. I wouldn’t give you a single dime, even if I was drowning in it!” Chloe’s eyes went wide with fury. She looked utterly incredulous. “Maddie Sterling, you stole my life! Compensating me isn’t optional, it’s mandatory!” “But not only do you show zero remorse, you have the audacity to insult me like this? Today, one way or another, you are giving me that money!” I actually burst out laughing. It was a cold, harsh sound. “Fine. Since you are absolutely convinced I switched our scores, call the police. Let them investigate. Let’s see what kind of magical powers I have that allowed me to switch scores, trick the federal government, and then conveniently skip college entirely to move abroad!” Chloe was momentarily speechless, her mouth opening and closing like a fish. Caleb Reynolds, however, immediately stepped forward, shielding her. “You’re still trying to lie! Maddie, you claim you didn’t go to college. Then explain this!” He yanked his phone out and thrust the screen into the crowd’s face. Everyone leaned in, then burst into collective scoffs. “This is hilarious. Look at the diploma on the screen. It clearly has Maddie’s name on it, and it clearly says she graduated from Redwood University. You seriously have the nerve to deny this physical evidence?!” “This woman has lied so much she actually believes her own delusions!” Chloe seized the opportunity, lunging forward to grab my legs, sobbing historically, begging me to just give her the money. The crowd erupted again, the dynamic shifting from insults to physical intimidation. It felt like they were moments away from tearing me apart right there on the quad. Online, the live stream was also boiling over. People were demanding to know my background, theorizing about what kind of vast, deep-state conspiracy allowed me to be so untouchable. Amidst the chaos, President Harrison of Redwood University and the heads of several departments burst through the crowd, escorted by campus security. They shoved people aside to get to me. President Harrison took a deep breath, looked around the hostile crowd, and spoke clearly into a megaphone. “According to our official university records, Maddie Sterling is not a graduate of Redwood University.” “Furthermore, she is not, nor has she ever been, employed here as a professor.” “The reason she is currently on campus is because she was recently hired through an external staffing agency as one of our new dorm janitors…”

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1 I never imagined that my husband’s ashes wouldn’t just be buried, but would be sliced down the middle and divided up like a birthday cake. On the day of my husband’s funeral, a young boy suddenly walked into the memorial hall. “Ma’am, my family is taking half of my dad’s ashes. We’re going to put him in our family’s private mausoleum.” “From now on, on the anniversary of his death, we will pay our respects separately. Do not bother us.” I stared at the boy, who looked like a carbon copy of my late husband, Marcus. It felt like I had been struck by lightning. Fighting back my violent trembling, I asked him, “Who is your mother?” The boy shot me a look of pure disdain. “My mom is waiting in the car. She said she doesn’t care to see your face. She just wants half the ashes.” I sprinted down the stairs like a madwoman, but the moment I saw the face of the woman sitting in the luxury SUV, I froze completely. It was Vanessa. The same Vanessa who, according to Marcus, was his money-hungry first love who had moved to Europe years ago to marry a rich expat! I gripped the wooden urn tightly, my mind a blank, buzzing void. Suddenly, my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was an anonymous text message: [Marcus isn’t dead. He is currently at a mansion in the Hills, fitting wedding dresses with his third wife!] …… The tinted window of the SUV slowly rolled down. Vanessa sneered and threw a heavy manila folder out of the window, hitting me square in the chest. “Take a good look at that, Chloe,” she mocked. “This is the ten-million-dollar trust fund Marcus set up for me and our son before he died, along with the paternity test.” “What exactly are you? You were nothing but a free maid who served his family for seven years.” Impossible… All of Marcus’s money was in our joint account! My hands shaking, I pulled out my phone, desperate to open my banking app to check the balance. Before I could even unlock the screen, a series of automated bank alerts popped up. [Your checking account ending in 8831 has a current balance of: $0.32.] [Notice: A $500,000 personal line of credit under your name is past due…] My brain practically exploded. The money was gone, and I was somehow saddled with half a million dollars in debt! Immediately following the bank alerts were several vicious texts from an unknown number: [The $1.2 million loan your husband Marcus took out against the house is past due. If you don’t pay up tomorrow, we’re taking your organs as collateral!] My ears were ringing so loudly I couldn’t process a single thing. “Oh, sweet Jesus!” “Those eyes, that nose! He is absolutely a child of our bloodline!” A shrill, wailing cry snapped me out of my trance. My mother-in-law, Martha, burst out of the funeral hall from nowhere. She shoved me hard out of the way and threw her arms around the boy, hugging him tightly. “Mom… what are you doing?” I stared at her in absolute disbelief. Martha whipped her head around, her face twisted with malice. She pointed a trembling finger right at my nose and screamed. “You barren, useless bitch!” “You’ve been married into this family for seven years and haven’t produced a damn thing! What right do you have to speak?!” “Vanessa gave our family a golden grandson! Half of these ashes rightfully belong to her and the boy!” Vanessa looked at me with open disgust and handed a legal document through the car window. “Sign this waiver relinquishing all claims to marital assets, and get out of my sight.” I kept my head down, biting my lip so hard I tasted blood. My husband faking his death, his mistress forcing me out, the crushing, astronomical debt… I was trapped in a suffocating web. I thought about the anonymous text mentioning his “third wife.” My fingernails dug so deeply into my palms they drew blood. I had to find out what the hell was going on. If Marcus wasn’t dead… then whose ashes were currently sitting inside this urn?! “Fine… I’ll give you everything,” I whispered. “But Marcus was my husband. Please… let me keep half of his ashes as a keepsake.” I kept my head bowed, putting on the perfect performance of a thoroughly broken, devastated widow to hide the murderous hatred burning in my eyes. Vanessa let out a triumphant, mocking laugh. Her bodyguard stepped forward with a brand-new, mahogany urn. Unbelievably, she actually had him use a silver spoon to scoop out half of the ashes from Marcus’s urn, splitting it exactly like a cake. As I watched their taillights disappear down the street, I rushed back into my house and dug out an old, unwashed razor Marcus used to use. I carefully sealed it inside a Ziploc bag. Then, following the address from the anonymous text, I took an Uber to the upscale gated community in the Hills. Peering through the tall, black wrought-iron gates, I stared at a massive, European-style mansion in the distance. The front doors were wide open, and a sleek luxury transport van was parked in the driveway. Through the pouring rain, I saw a man in a crisp white tuxedo holding an umbrella. He was gently and lovingly adjusting the train of a wedding dress worn by a beautiful young woman. When the man turned his profile toward me, my breathing completely stopped. It was Marcus! He was alive! My hands shaking violently, I pulled out my phone, desperate to open the camera and record this. THWACK! My vision went completely black. A sickening, agonizing pain erupted from the back of my skull. 2 “Ms. Sterling, there’s some psycho stalking the property, trying to record you on her phone.” The world spun dizzily as three men in black suits pinned me face-down into the muddy grass. I fought to open my eyes, blinking through the blood dripping down my forehead, and watched Marcus and the young woman walk toward me under the umbrella. I stared dead into Marcus’s eyes, desperately looking for a single flicker of panic or guilt. But there was nothing. Absolutely nothing. “Honey, what’s going on?” “She looks terrifying. Why was she staring at us?” The third wife, the young Ms. Sterling, shrank timidly into his chest. Marcus’s voice drifted down from above, his tone completely flat, devoid of a single ripple of emotion. “Probably just some escaped lunatic from the psych ward down the street looking for a handout.” “Don’t be scared, baby. Don’t let her ruin your view.” He turned to his guards. “Break her leg and throw her in the city dump.” The bodyguard didn’t hesitate. He swung a solid steel baton directly down onto my calf. My bloodcurdling scream tore through the rain, and I passed out from the excruciating pain. When I woke up, it was the dead of night. I was surrounded by the nauseating, suffocating stench of rotting garbage and sewage. My phone screen had been stomped into a shattered spiderweb. My lower leg was swollen and twisted, the agonizing pain making every breath taste like copper. I couldn’t die. I absolutely refused to die quietly in a pile of garbage. Gritting my teeth, I fell and dragged myself back up, over and over again. Dragging my broken leg, I crawled and limped through the torrential rain for two grueling hours. It wasn’t until my shattered phone finally caught a sliver of cellular signal that I managed to call a ride back to the small apartment my parents had left me before I got married. But when I pulled out my keys and shoved them into the lock, they wouldn’t turn. The locks had been changed. I stumbled backward in shock. As the motion-sensor lights in the hallway flickered on, I noticed a pile of cardboard boxes and junk dumped in the corner near the stairs. Sitting at the very top of the trash pile, discarded like garbage, were the framed memorial portraits of my deceased parents. “Look who finally showed up.” The sharp click of high heels echoed as the front door swung open. Vanessa and my mother-in-law, Martha, stepped out of my apartment. Martha was holding a legal document stamped with a bright red thumbprint. “Vanessa! What the hell are you doing in my house?! My parents left this place to me!” Vanessa took a step back in dramatic disgust and shot Martha a look. Martha immediately shoved the document—a Voluntary Property Transfer Agreement—right into my face. “Open your blind, pathetic eyes!” “Hahaha! When you signed that asset forfeiture at the funeral yesterday, you signed this apartment over to Vanessa entirely free of charge!” Looking at the document, my blood ran cold. They had slipped that page into the stack of joint-asset waivers. They had exploited the moment when my mind was completely shattered and broken with grief at the funeral to trick me into signing away my home! “This is fraud! I’m calling the cops!” I screamed, my voice hoarse and raw. “Call them! Go ahead and call them!” Vanessa stepped forward and intentionally planted her designer heel directly onto the glass frame of my mother’s portrait. The glass shattered instantly. She leaned in, mocking me in a whisper only the two of us could hear. “Go tell them you were ‘tricked’ into signing it.” “Let’s see if my uncle, the District Attorney, believes a legally binding document with your signature on it, or a mentally unstable, raving widow?” The commotion in the hallway had woken up the neighbors. Doors cracked open as older tenants peeked their heads out. Martha immediately threw herself onto the floor, slapping her thighs and wailing theatrically. “Look at this, everyone! Look at this vicious, rotten woman!” “She was out sleeping with other men, racked up millions in loan shark debt, and drove my poor son so crazy he got into a fatal car crash!” “And now she has the nerve to come back begging for money! My poor, poor boy! He can’t even rest in peace!” “Oh, so that’s what happened…” “She looked so quiet and polite, too. Cheating on her husband… how shameless.” “People like her don’t deserve to breathe. She should just go drop dead.” The disgusted glares and vile whispers from the neighbors felt like needles piercing my back. Right then, Vanessa’s six-year-old son ran out of the apartment. He pulled a massive water gun out of his backpack and started blasting me with water. I didn’t dodge. Instead, amidst the chaotic shoving, I faked a collapse, falling weakly at the boy’s feet. Using the distraction, I slipped a micro-listening device—which I had originally bought to plant in the mansion—directly into the side pocket of his backpack. I decided to retreat for now and head to the ER to get my leg treated. The real war was just about to begin. 3 Walking out of the hospital on crutches, I mentally replayed every detail I might have missed. Sure enough, digging deep into my digital insurance portals, I found a $3 million accidental death life insurance policy. Insured: Chloe. Beneficiary: Martha (Marcus’s mother). The effective date of the policy was exactly one month before Marcus’s “fatal accident”! My breathing stopped completely. He didn’t just want to fake his death for insurance money. This was a meticulously orchestrated murder plot! They scammed me out of my savings, stole my home, and destroyed my reputation. The final step was for me to conveniently die in a tragic “accident.” My death was going to be the bloody poker chip they used to cash out that $3 million! My phone screen flickered. The mysterious number sent me another text message. [Next Wednesday. The Grand Pearl Hotel. Marcus’s wedding.] [That is also the day you are scheduled to die in a tragic accident. Watch your back!] I snapped my head up. Without realizing it, I had wandered beneath a dark, concrete overpass. A rusted van with no license plates silently rolled to a stop right next to me. The sliding door ripped open, and three massive men dressed in black stepped out. They gripped heavy steel crowbars, advancing toward me! RUN! That was the only primal instinct left in my brain. I grabbed a handful of filthy street dirt and hurled it directly into the eyes of the closest thug! While he screamed and clawed at his face, I scrambled on my hands and knees, dragging my casted leg, and dove into a pitch-black, narrow alleyway. “Grab that bitch! Don’t let her get away!” I dragged my broken leg through the darkness, eventually squeezing myself into a cramped, foul-smelling storm drain beneath a grate. I bit down on my lip so hard I bled, refusing to make even the slightest sound. I waited in agonizing silence until their heavy footsteps finally faded away. Having narrowly escaped death, I didn’t dare call the police. I wanted to see if I could gather more hard evidence first. I opened the app connected to the micro-bug I had planted. After a burst of static, Martha’s voice came through clearly. “Almost there, almost there! As long as that idiot Chloe has an ‘accident’ and dies, all our loose ends are permanently tied up.” “The second that $3 million hits the account, we’re flying to Europe.” Vanessa let out a smug, triumphant laugh. “Marcus is brilliant. He set everything up perfectly.” “But Mom, are you sure the ashes situation is airtight? I mean… that was a real person…” Martha scoffed coldly. “What are you afraid of?” “That old, terminally ill drifter from the countryside had kidney failure. He only had a few days left to live anyway.” “We brought him to the city, gave him a warm bed, and fed him well for a few days.” “Getting to be Marcus’s body double at the end was the greatest blessing of his pathetic life!” “The body was burned completely beyond recognition in the crash. Who the hell is going to investigate it?” They didn’t just fake Marcus’s death. They actually murdered a living, breathing human being in cold blood! What made it even more ironic was that Vanessa, the mistress who thought she had won it all, was nothing but a pawn to Marcus. He was using Vanessa to launder the dirty money and send his mother abroad to retire in luxury. And then, with his hands perfectly clean and a new identity, he was going to marry the heiress of the Sterling corporate empire! Every step was interconnected, bleeding his victims dry without leaving a single trace. Marcus’s intelligence and sheer, psychotic ruthlessness were suffocating. I took a deep breath. I packaged the remaining ashes from the urn, along with the unwashed razor containing Marcus’s DNA, and overnighted them via FedEx. I sent them to an old college friend who worked as a senior analyst at a private forensic testing lab out of state. This was my final, and only, trump card to flip the board. Then, I dialed the number that had texted me the loan shark threats yesterday. “I am Marcus’s wife.” “Aren’t you guys looking for the $1.2 million he owes you?” “His mother and his mistress, Vanessa, are currently sitting on millions in cash and are preparing to flee the country.” “Next Wednesday, The Grand Pearl Hotel. If you don’t catch them there, you will never see a single dime of your money again.” They wanted to use borrowed knives to kill me. Now, it was my turn. 4 Wednesday. The Grand Pearl Hotel. The most luxurious five-star hotel in the city was completely booked for a private event. Wearing a filthy, oversized uniform I had scavenged from a dumpster, I disguised myself and slipped in with the third-party waste management crew handling the kitchen garbage. The hotel staff stepped out of my way in disgust, pinching their noses and muttering insults. I ignored them completely. Fighting through the agonizing throbbing in my leg, I limped step-by-step toward the side doors of the main ballroom. Through the crack in the heavy doors, I saw the perfect couple on the center stage. Marcus, dressed in an astronomically expensive bespoke tuxedo, was gazing lovingly at Olivia Sterling. He lifted a diamond ring the size of a pigeon’s egg, preparing to slide it onto the heiress’s finger. The ballroom erupted in thunderous applause. Right at that exact moment, a violent, explosive crash erupted from the hotel lobby! BOOM! The heavy glass entrance doors of the hotel were violently smashed to pieces by a massive, reinforced SUV! “Lock down the exits! Nobody leaves this building alive!” The mob boss, followed by over thirty massive enforcers wielding steel pipes and baseball bats, stormed aggressively into the grand lobby. And dragging behind them, screaming with faces as pale as ghosts, were Vanessa and my mother-in-law, Martha! I used the panic of the fleeing crowd to slip into the back corner of the grand ballroom. “A $1.2 million loan, with interest, brings the total to two million!” “If you don’t cough up the cash today, I’m selling this bitch to a trafficking ring in Southeast Asia!” The mob boss slapped the flat side of a machete against Vanessa’s terrified face. The elegant, high-society engagement party instantly devolved into absolute chaos. Socialites and billionaires screamed and scattered in panic, the entire venue plunging into total anarchy. Vanessa’s hair was a tangled mess, her expensive makeup ruined by tears as she shook her head frantically. “I don’t have the money! The funds haven’t cleared yet! You grabbed the wrong person!” To save her own life, Martha scanned the chaotic crowd with panicked eyes. Suddenly, she pointed a shaking finger directly at me, cowering in the corner, and began screaming like a banshee. “It’s her! She’s Marcus’s legal wife! She hid all the money! This bitch has it all!” “Boss, take her! Carve out her heart, liver, and kidneys and sell them! That will definitely cover the debt!” How incredibly evil. In a life-or-death situation, they didn’t hesitate for a second to throw me to the wolves, literally offering my organs to pay their debts. The mobsters swarmed me, kicking me brutally to the ground. I gritted my teeth, tasting the heavy, metallic tang of blood in my mouth. Surrounding me were the disgusted, amused, and mocking stares of the city’s wealthiest elites. Just then, on the grand spiral staircase leading down from the VIP suites… Marcus, holding the terrified Olivia Sterling, walked down, flanked by a phalanx of security guards. When Vanessa, currently pinned to the floor by a mobster’s boot, looked up and saw the man’s face on the stairs, her eyes bulged out of her head. Her hysterical crying instantly morphed into a stuttering, horrified gasp. “M… Marcus?! You… you’re alive?!” Vanessa wasn’t stupid. In that single instant, the money laundering, the scams, the fake trust funds… the entire puzzle violently clicked together in her mind. She had been played too! She was nothing but a disposable tool Marcus used to hoard wealth and absorb his criminal liabilities! But Marcus’s psychological fortitude was terrifying. He didn’t show a single ounce of panic. He gently patted the heiress’s hand, and using a tone dripping with polite apology and sympathy, he spoke to the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, I apologize for this disturbance.” “My name is Richard Vance. These people have clearly mistaken me for someone else.” He pointed gracefully to the massive engagement banner that read: Richard & Olivia. Then, he turned to the head of hotel security, issuing a cold command. “Get these people out of here immediately.” “Call the police and report an armed home invasion.” Even now, backed into a corner, he actually believed he could seamlessly erase all his sins! “MARCUS!” “You threw your own mother and your first love to the wolves to take the fall for you! You are a soulless, psychotic animal!” I swallowed the blood filling my mouth. Summoning every ounce of strength left in my broken body, I shoved the mobster’s boot off my chest. From the waterproof lining of my jacket, I pulled out the forensic DNA report, stamped with the official seal of the laboratory. I hurled the papers high into the air, letting them rain down over the ballroom floor. “What a brilliant performance, ‘Richard Vance’!” “Ms. Sterling, open your eyes and look closely! My husband’s real name is Marcus! To climb the social ladder and marry into your family, he conspired with his mother and his mistress to brutally murder an innocent, homeless man to fake his own death!” I stared dead into Marcus’s hypocritical, perfectly sculpted face, screaming until my vocal cords tore. “He even planned to orchestrate a tragic ‘accident’ to murder me, his legal wife, just to cash out a massive life insurance policy!” “He is a parasitic, bloodsucking demon! And right now, the prey he’s preparing to swallow whole… is YOU!!!” The sheer magnitude of these horrifying revelations struck the entire ballroom completely silent. Marcus’s perfect, saintly facade finally cracked. A flicker of genuine panic flashed across his eyes. Just as the hotel security guards unholstered their stun batons and charged toward me… “POLICE! DROP YOUR WEAPONS! HANDS ON YOUR HEADS!” Dozens of heavily armed SWAT officers swarmed into the grand lobby. Cold, black rifle barrels instantly locked onto everyone in the room. A tall, imposing man slowly took off his tactical sunglasses, his sharp, predatory gaze locking onto the stage. Marcus, who had been arrogant and untouchable just seconds ago, instantly lost all color in his face the moment he saw the man. He stumbled backward two steps. I stared dead at the man’s face, my breathing completely stopping in that instant. How… how could it be him?!

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When Carter Hayes carried me to the shower, he suddenly raised an eyebrow and let out a soft chuckle: “Damn, I seriously wonder if your actual husband will ever treat you as good as I do.” I snuggled into the crook of his neck, murmuring sleepily: “Yeah, yeah, you’re the best in the world.” “Maybe next year I’ll give you a marriage certificate and make you my official—” “Whoa, hold on. Are you biting the hand that feeds you?” Carter forced my face up to look at him, letting out a cold scoff: “Don’t mess with me.” “We’re just playing around. As for marriage, I already have someone else in mind.” 1 Carter placed me in the bathtub, slowly and methodically lathering up the body wash before rubbing it over my skin. He offered a lazy smile: “Don’t scare me like that, or I really might have to ghost you.” “When we first got set up, you explicitly said you weren’t looking for a serious romantic commitment.” I still hadn’t fully come down from the intense passion of moments ago. I looked at him with hazy eyes. “What do you mean?” “You never intended to marry me?” Hearing this, Carter’s hand froze. He stood up, visibly irritated, snatched a bath towel, and threw it over me. His tone turned ice-cold: “Okay, now you’re just killing the mood.” “Aren’t we just regular friends with benefits?” “You didn’t honestly think we were dating, did you?” He was shirtless, his exposed torso lean and muscular, the lines of his abs sexy and tight. Usually, when I saw Carter like this, even after the act, I couldn’t resist running my hands over him for a while. But right now, I didn’t care about any of that. I just grabbed his arm, asking in disbelief: “Where are you going? Are you just leaving me here?” Usually, Carter would carry me to the shower, dry me off, and tuck me safely into bed… But this time, he just looked down at me from above and said flatly: “What am I supposed to do? You aren’t a child. Can’t you wash yourself?” Seeing me frozen in shock, Carter pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Look, don’t look at me like that, okay? You’re making me feel like some irresponsible jerk.” “I just put in two hours of hard work. I’m more exhausted than you are, and now I still have to cater to you?” “I’m going to use the guest shower and go to sleep. Keep the door closed when you blow-dry your hair so you don’t wake me up.” Bang. The door slammed shut. I lay half-submerged in the bathtub, staring at the bright red love marks on my chest, my heart aching with an agonizing sourness. We did everything couples are supposed to do. He even met my parents. And yet, we weren’t dating? 2 I stayed awake all night, agonizingly waiting for the sun to rise. The moment I opened the bedroom door, I bumped into a solid, warm chest. Holding a bank card between his fingers, Carter handed it to me, his voice perfectly calm: “There’s fifty thousand dollars on this.” “The PIN is my birthday.” As his familiar cedarwood cologne enveloped me, my nose stung, and my voice trembled: “Carter…” I thought you didn’t want me anymore, I almost said. But he cut me off softly. “I’m sorry. I treated you too well before, and it made you misunderstand our relationship.” “I honestly thought we both understood what this was—we were just giving each other what we needed.” As if he couldn’t bear to look at my red, teary eyes, Carter turned his head away. “I’ve never paid for this kind of thing before, so I don’t know what the going market rate is, but fifty grand feels like a lot.” “If you aren’t satisfied, we can negotiate.” I froze, completely failing to process what he meant. It took me half a minute to finally snap back to reality. My hand reacted faster than my brain. After the sharp slap echoed through the room, my entire body was still shaking. “Carter, you are absolutely disgusting!” 3 Like a walking corpse, I numbly changed into my own clothes. I simply packed up a few of my expensive jewelry pieces and prepared to leave. During those ten or so minutes, Carter stood on the balcony, smoking a cigarette. It wasn’t until I opened the front door that he lazily pointed a finger at the drying rack. “You forgot something.” I looked over. Using his long, slender fingers, Carter hooked a pair of black thigh-high stockings, walked over to me, and handed them over. “This brand is good quality. They didn’t rip last night.” “I washed them for you.” “You can wear them on a date with your next boyfriend.” Looking at his cold, detached face, I laughed out of pure anger: “This is the first time I’ve ever seen someone so concerned about their hookup’s future love life.” “Worry about yourself, Carter.” The moment the word “hookup” left my mouth, his face darkened. He instinctively wanted to argue back but forced himself to swallow it. Finally, he just compromised and muttered: “Say whatever makes you feel better.” 4 I couldn’t understand Carter’s mindset at all. When we were first set up by mutual friends, we checked every single box on each other’s list for an ideal partner. It was a perfect match. That was why we solemnly allowed each other into our lives. Was this because I went out for drinks with my male colleagues yesterday, and he got jealous? Thinking of this, I reached out to Carter’s female childhood best friend, Chloe Adams, asking cautiously: [Does Carter have some unforgettable ‘one that got away’ or an unrequited first love?] Chloe replied very quickly: [No way! Even if he did, with his looks and background, wouldn’t he easily win her over with just a little effort?] [Why, did you guys have a fight? We’re heading out to a bar later. Do you want to come and talk to him?] Staring at the screen, I breathed a sigh of relief. It made sense. Carter had striking, chiseled features, and his body was flawless. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, with sharply defined muscles. On top of that, he was highly successful in his career, maintained strict boundaries with other women, and was incredibly polite and respectful to my parents. If a guy like him really had an unforgettable first love, he wouldn’t have been able to let her go, right? Was there just some stupid misunderstanding between us? With that thought, I gathered my courage, ready to try one last time. I swapped shifts with a coworker, bought a gift, and rushed straight to the bar Chloe had mentioned. But to my surprise, as soon as I reached the door of the private VIP booth, I heard someone teasing Carter, laughing: “Are you really willing to dump your bed buddy?” “Damn, she’s gorgeous and has an amazing body.” “Why don’t you just pass her to me? I promise I can keep her very, very satisfied!” Carter extinguished the glowing cherry of his cigarette, snapping irritably: “Get lost. You? You couldn’t even catch Stella Bennett’s eye, let alone get into her bed.” Amidst the roaring laughter, he paused. When he spoke again, his voice was rough and strained: “How could I be willing to let her go? She’s like a porcelain doll. When she looks up at you in bed with those big, watery eyes… who could handle that?” “But willing or not, I have to end it. When I agreed to go on those dates with her, wasn’t it just to provoke Chloe?” “Now that my goal is achieved, it’s time to cut ties.” Carter’s eyes darkened. He checked the time, stood up, and warned them in a stern voice: “When Chloe gets here, all of you watch your mouths.” “If she brings up Stella, just play along with me and throw a few insults her way.” “Otherwise, knowing Chloe’s temper, she’ll skin me alive.” My hand hovered mid-air, but I completely lost the courage to push the door open. Because the Chloe he was talking about was the same childhood best friend who had been constantly teaching me how to win Carter’s heart. She used to always say: Childhood friends have zero romantic chemistry. If Carter and I were going to happen, we would have gotten together years ago… 5 In the adult world, you even have to carefully pick the time and place for your mental breakdowns. Without even taking a moment to cry, I rushed straight to the hospital. I couldn’t accept that the relationship I had thought was my “perfect first love” was ending like this. So, when the emergency response leader asked who wanted to volunteer to support the earthquake disaster zone, I was the first to raise my hand. A colleague tugged my sleeve in disbelief: “If you go, it’s for a minimum of three months. Can you and your Carter really be apart for that long?” “Everyone knows you two are attached at the hip…” “Besides, disaster reconstruction is dangerous. Carter treats you so well, he’d never let you go suffer like that.” I took a deep breath and filled my name into the form as calmly as I could. “We broke up.” Honestly, I thought this was the perfect opportunity to heal my broken heart. 6 We were set to leave the following afternoon. I still had a little time to notify my parents and pack my luggage. But I never expected that, just as I was getting ready to leave work, I would be stopped by two police officers. “Hello, someone has accused you of breaking and entering, as well as grand theft.” The passing patients and families stopped in their tracks, looking at me with strange, judging eyes. My face flushed red as I explained over and over again that there must be some misunderstanding. How could I possibly do something like that? After a full five minutes of me defending myself, the people who filed the report finally hurried over from the other end of the hall. My eyes widened. Looking at the incredibly intimate couple standing before me, I was utterly paralyzed. 7 Carter and Chloe stood shoulder-to-shoulder. He pointed at me with a cold, indifferent expression: “That’s her.” “After breaking in, she took several valuable items.” Chloe, her face icy, snatched my purse from my hands and dumped its contents completely onto the floor. She crouched down and effortlessly picked out a keychain. “Officer, look. I wasn’t framing her, was I?” Chloe removed a key from the ring, compared it to the one in her own hand, and gave it to the officer. “This is the evidence.” “She met my boyfriend through mutual friends half a year ago. Not only did she shamelessly cling to him, but she actually stole the key to his apartment.” “The point is, we grew up together and are officially a couple now. Even if you’re chasing ‘true love,’ you can’t resort to these kind of dirty, gutter-trash tactics.” The patients and families in the corridor had all stopped to watch, sizing me up with unapologetic disdain. “Someone like this is allowed to be a doctor?” “What if she takes a liking to my husband during a checkup and steals our stuff too?” The hospital’s heating was blasting. Yet I felt a bone-chilling cold. Even my voice was shaking. “Carter, aren’t you going to explain this?” Standing tall and elegant, he looked down at me for a few seconds before letting out a soft sigh. “We’ve known each other for a while, so I don’t necessarily have to press charges.” “Just return my family’s heirloom jade bracelet, and we can consider this matter settled.” Looking at the man who had once been so incredibly intimate with me, I couldn’t hold back the hysterical scream that tore from my throat: “Your mother forced me to take that!” “As long as you admit you have it,” Carter replied effortlessly, his tone calm. “It’s quite valuable, so I assume you locked it away somewhere safe?” “Let’s go. With the police here as witnesses, we can wipe the slate clean.” I raised my arm, but it felt as heavy as lead. Seeing the police present, I awkwardly lowered it again. I desperately wanted to pull out all our intimate photos to prove the reality of our relationship. But looking at my own wretched, wild-eyed reflection in the glass window, I realized that taking him down would only destroy me in the process. It was utterly meaningless. After a long moment, I let out a cold laugh and gave in: “It’s at my apartment.” “I’ll take you to get it.”

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I posted a photo of my daughter on Ins. She was lying in bed, staring at her phone. My caption read: [Why is she always like this the second winter break starts?] The comments immediately turned toxic and snarky: [Who knows? Maybe it’s because scrolling on a phone is the cheapest form of relaxation.] [My mom usually gives me around $15,000 so my friends and I can go on a trip. What about you, ma’am?] I replied, feeling incredibly embarrassed: [I guess I’m not as successful as your mother. I can’t afford that much.] The mockery only intensified after that. Until five hours later, when I updated with my next video. It was a vlog of my daughter at the airport, embarking on a spontaneous trip. My caption: [I couldn’t give you $15,000, but here’s $5,123.67 for your trip. Have fun.] The narrative shifted instantly. [Who gets it?! She wasn’t criticizing; she was just genuinely asking a question!] [It could be $5,000, but it had to be exactly $5,123.67… Does anyone else realize how heavy that specific number is?] Many others started tagging their own mothers, asking: [Will you treat me like this one day?] The text on the screen became denser and denser. Under that comment tagging a mom, many accounts with middle-aged women as profile pictures replied. [Baby, of course not. I wouldn’t have the heart to do that to you. /sarcasm/] I stared at these words, almost laughing out loud. This back-and-forth felt exactly like girls tagging their boyfriends or husbands on relationship posts. Sliding my finger across the screen, my thoughts drifted back to a few hours ago. At that time, I had just posted the photo of my daughter lying in bed playing on her phone. Honestly, I just wanted to ask. Why does a child seem to turn into a different person the moment winter break starts, holding onto their phone all day and never letting go? Who knew the comment section would be submerged so quickly. [Who knows? Maybe it’s because scrolling on a phone is the cheapest form of relaxation.] [My mom usually gives me around $15,000 so my friends and I can go on a trip. What about you, ma’am?] Those words were like needles piercing my eyes. I didn’t have much of an education. I didn’t really understand the twists and turns of the internet. And I certainly didn’t grasp the sarcasm between the lines. I just felt my cheeks burning, my heart heavy with guilt. Other people’s children could go on trips during their break. But my daughter could only curl up in a cramped, dark bedroom, scrolling through free short videos over and over again. I opened my mobile banking app, looking at the remaining five thousand dollars in the account. That was money I had saved bit by bit, clipping coupons and scraping the bottom of the grocery budget. Without hesitation, I transferred the entire $5,123.67 to my daughter. “Go buy a plane ticket. Go have some fun.” I pushed open her door and spoke to her softly. Watching her back as she packed and left, I felt a sense of profound relief in my heart. At least my daughter could be like other people’s children and go see the outside world. But this peace didn’t last long. My mother-in-law, Martha, came back and, out of habit, called for my daughter to come rub her shoulders and fetch her things. I lowered my head and told her that Lily had gone on a trip. The air seemed to freeze. In the next second, she slammed her grocery bags onto the floor. “Where did you get the money? Did you steal it from my son?” I shook my head. “That’s money I saved myself.” A few onions rolled into the corner, covered in dust. “You’ve gotten brave, haven’t you? What do you mean you saved it yourself? That is our family’s money!” She pointed at my nose, her spit flying in my face. “Thousands of dollars, and you just threw it down the drain? You absolute parasite, do you even want this family to survive!” She cursed while brutally tearing at my pockets. I didn’t dare resist, letting her steal the remaining few dollars of change I had on me. “What is this pittance good for? You aren’t eating today!” Martha slammed the door and went into her bedroom, leaving me standing alone in the messy living room. In the evening, my husband, David, came home from work. His mother immediately went up to him, exaggerating the story as she retold it. I thought he would at least understand my feelings as a mother. But he just looked at me coldly, his eyes filled with disgust. “Are you sick in the head? Why are you posting our private business on Ins? Don’t we have enough shame as it is without you looking for more?” He took off his coat and violently flung it onto the sofa. “I didn’t… I just…” I tried to explain. “Shut up! Delete that account right now!” “If you ever dare to go online and post this garbage again, wait and see how I handle you!” He threatened viciously. I didn’t dare disobey. I could only silently turn off my phone screen. However, the storm on the internet did not subside because of my silence. Because I hadn’t updated or replied to comments, netizens began to speculate maliciously. [Why isn’t that mom talking? Is it because we hit a nerve, and she’s at home taking it out on her daughter?] [I looked at her previous videos. Her face just looks mean. She must be an abuser!] [Everyone, dox her. Find out who she is. We have to rescue this child!] Those vicious words came like a tide, almost drowning me. Until five hours later, when I posted the video of Lily at the airport again. In the video, she was smiling brightly. The caption read: [I couldn’t give you $15,000, but here’s $5,123.67 for your trip. Have fun.] The narrative shifted instantly. Netizens began to praise me. They said I was a good mom, that even though I was poor, I gave my daughter all my love. Looking at those warm comments, my tight nerves finally relaxed. I was even a little happy. They praised me. This meant I must have done the right thing, right? Giving the money to my daughter so she could travel was the correct choice for a mother. However, the accolades on the internet did not change my reality. David saw that the online storm had calmed down, but his anger had not cooled. He felt I had exposed myself online, damaging his reputation. “Get out! You aren’t sleeping in this house tonight!” With one violent shove, he pushed me out of the apartment and heavily slammed the security door. The wind in the hallway on this winter night cut like a knife. Wearing only a thin sweater, I curled up on the freezing concrete floor. For the entire night, I didn’t close my eyes. My legs and feet were numb with cold, but my heart retained a little warmth from those praises online. At dawn, I received a call from my parents. I thought they were calling to express concern. Tears fell uncontrollably. “Mom…” Just as I opened my mouth, my mother’s piercing screams came from the other end of the line. “Rachel Barnes, you think you’re a big shot now, don’t you?” “You disrespect your husband, and you even dare to air your dirty laundry in public! Do you think it’s easy for your in-laws to support your family?” “Go back to your mother-in-law right now, get on your knees and apologize! Don’t ruin our family’s reputation!” My father chimed in from the background: “Truly an ungrateful wretch. If I had known, I never would have had you!” The call disconnected. The busy tone echoed in my ear. I leaned blankly against the wall, my tears already dried up. Just then, the security door clicked open. David stood at the door, his face grim. Before I could react, he grabbed me by the collar and dragged me inside. My old sweater, which I had worn for three years, was brutally torn by him. Cold air rushed inside my clothes, causing a flare of goosebumps. A loud backhand landed on my face. My ears were ringing, and I tasted blood in the corner of my mouth. “I’m warning you. If you ever dare to go on Ins and embarrass me again, I will break your legs!” He pointed at my face, speaking through gritted teeth. I covered my cheek and lowered my head, not daring to make a sound. David grabbed my phone and violently smashed it onto the floor. The sound of the screen shattering echoed in the living room. That wasn’t enough to satisfy his anger. He stomped on it viciously several times until that old phone was turned entirely into a pile of scrap metal. “Call that brat and get her back here right now! Using the family’s money to run wild outside—she’s out of control!” He roared at me. Martha also walked out of her room. Holding a broom in her hand, she stared at me maliciously. “Hurry up! If she doesn’t bring that money back today, don’t expect a single moment of peace!” I looked at the wreckage of the phone on the ground, and a wave of indescribable peace suddenly welled up in my heart. In this house, only I had Lily’s phone number. But I hadn’t saved the number in the phone’s contact list. Now, aside from being furious and taking their anger out on me, they had absolutely no way to contact our daughter. They couldn’t find her. I lifted my head, looking at the exasperated faces of my husband and mother-in-law. The corners of my mouth couldn’t help but slightly upturn. At this moment, I was even celebrating in my heart. Thank goodness my daughter wasn’t home. Thank goodness she had already flown toward that sky of freedom that belonged to her. Even if I suffered torment here, as long as she could be alright, everything was worth it. The phone was smashed into a floor full of broken glass, but David’s rage did not subside. He couldn’t find our daughter. It was like punching cotton; his face turned completely red with pent-up frustration. This evil fire, naturally, was poured entirely onto me. Every day, the moment he got off work, even if the slippers in the shoe rack were slightly crooked, it became a reason for him to get violent. He grabbed me by the hair and slammed me against the wall. Martha just watched coldly from the side. I was like an old, discarded rag, thrown back and forth in this cramped apartment by them. My body was always covered in bruises, some green, some purple. Even a slight movement caused a deep ache to radiate through my joints. But I didn’t cry. Taking advantage of the moment I went out to throw away the trash, I rummaged through the garbage bag to find the phone. I pried out the SIM card, which fortunately wasn’t broken. There was an old man collecting recyclables at the street corner. I used a few flattened cardboard boxes I had saved, plus the only ten dollars remaining in my pocket, and traded with him for a second-hand smartphone with a leaking LCD screen. I inserted the card and connected to the neighbor’s unsecured Wi-Fi. Messages from Lily immediately jumped out. They were a few photos. In the photos, she was wearing that washed-out white puffer jacket, standing at the foot of a snow-capped mountain. Sunshine hit her young face. Her entire being was glowing, and there was a brilliance in her eyes I had never seen before. I hid in the cramped bathroom. Sitting on the toilet lid, I gently rubbed my rough finger against my daughter on the screen. The black leak spot covered half the sky, but it couldn’t cover her brilliant smile. So beautiful. As long as I could make her smile like a normal child, those punches and kicks I endured in this apartment were all worth it. Though the second-hand phone screen was blurred, I could still see the comments on Ins. Netizens were still in my thread urging me to update, wanting to see my daughter’s follow-up. In the comment section, a netizen whose profile picture was a little girl asked me: [Ma’am, since you love your daughter so much, why did you never think about sending her out to travel before?] Seeing this sentence, I froze for a long time. Yes, why? I honestly typed on the keyboard, replying to her: [Because I didn’t have money. The family bank cards are all in my mother-in-law’s hands. That five thousand dollars was saved bit by bit, dime by dime, from my grocery budget over the past few years. Before, I didn’t even dare to dream about the word ‘travel’.] Not long after this reply was sent, comments underneath flooded in. [I’m sorry, ma’am. I misunderstood you.] [Turns out you are living such a hard life. I thought you were one of those parents who favored boys over girls. Truly, I apologize.] The screen full of apologies made my eyes turn red. Among these messages, one netizen gave me a suggestion. [Ma’am, you cannot keep enduring this!] [Next time he hits you, don’t sit there stupidly behind closed doors and take it.] [Run outside! Go cry to the community outreach center!] [Make a scene! Attract the attention of the staff so they come to mediate, force your husband to open the door, and let everyone see his true face!] I stared at these words, reading them over and over a dozen times. Go to the community center? Make a scene? This was something I absolutely wouldn’t have dared to do in the past. My parents taught me from a young age that family shame should not be aired in public. If you get beaten, you endure it yourself. Making a scene will only make people laugh at you. But, looking at the sincere advice from netizens on the leaking screen, a slightly different thought suddenly emerged in my dried-up heart. Since the first time I followed their advice it had such a good effect, following it again shouldn’t hurt. The opportunity came quickly. Friday night, David came back completely drunk. Just as he entered, he threw his briefcase against my back, knocking over the hot soup I had just brought out. “Call that brat and get her back here!” His breath reeked of alcohol. He grabbed me by the back of the neck and dragged me toward the bedroom. “If you can’t contact her today, I’m gonna skin you alive!” His grip was incredibly strong; his nails almost embedded into my flesh. If it were in the past, I would definitely curl up into a ball, letting him hit and curse at me. But today, my mind was entirely focused on that phrase from the netizens: Run outside. I was very obedient. Following the force of his dragging, I suddenly grabbed the heavy glass ashtray from the coffee table and smashed it backward with force. The glass shattered against the wall, making a dull thud. David was startled; the force in his hand loosened by half. Seizing this gap, I used all my strength to break free. Clambering and rolling, I rushed toward the entryway, twisted open the security door, and ran out with all my might. “You bitch! You dare to run!” He roared in exasperation behind me.

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My boyfriend of ten years came home with me this Thanksgiving to meet my parents. But he didn’t come for me. He came for my stepsister. That night, my entire family stayed awake. Through the thin walls, I listened to my boyfriend, Tyler, play innocent with my sister, Mia. I also heard exactly how wild Mia could be. The cheap bed frame squeaked relentlessly against the wall. Meanwhile, on my phone, my text thread with Tyler was still stuck on yesterday. He had texted me saying he was exhausted and going to bed early. Then, the very next day, he showed up at my family’s house, holding Mia’s hand and carrying a mountain of expensive gifts. “Hey, sis! Mia told me you really like…” The moment our eyes met, the designer cake he was holding slipped from his hand and smashed onto the floor. Mia immediately jumped in to defend him. “It’s his first time meeting the family after all these years together. He’s just a little nervous.” “You don’t mind, do you, Harper?” I forced a stiff, awkward smile. Mia grabbed my hand. “Didn’t you say you were bringing your boyfriend home for the holidays too? Where is he?” “He’s dead. Died right before the holidays.” A heavy silence fell over the room. Plunged into sudden mourning, no one asked any more questions about my “boyfriend.” And yet, that very night, after Tyler and Mia had gone at it for what sounded like a dozen rounds, he actually had the nerve to text me: “I still love you!” Before I even had a chance to reply, my mom pushed my bedroom door open. “Come on, get dressed. We’re going to visit your boyfriend’s grave…” In that moment, sheer panic set in. I instantly regretted everything. I completely forgot that my mother was a deeply traditional, overly empathetic Southern woman who believed in paying respects to the departed, no matter what. I never should have blurted out that my boyfriend was dead just to save face while everyone else was celebrating. Now we had to go visit his grave! What grave?! Where the hell was I supposed to find a grave?! My mom and stepdad gave me my marching orders and immediately started getting ready. They even started packing a cooler with flowers and his “favorite foods” to leave at the site. Using the excuse that I needed to use the bathroom, I locked myself in and frantically posted on Reddit. [Emergency! Does anyone know of a grave nearby for a guy who died around 27? Preferably with the last name ‘Sterling’. I just need to borrow it for a quick visit, please!] [URGENT!] At first, I fully expected to get roasted in the comments. I was mentally prepared for the backlash. But I knew my parents. Once they set their minds on something like this, they wouldn’t back down until they saw it through. Plus, because I genuinely believed Tyler and I were going to get married, I had told my parents practically everything about him. Before Tyler showed up at the door, I was literally a day away from showing them our professional couples’ photoshoot. Thank god! Thank god I thought the lighting in the photos looked a little off and wanted to run them through Lightroom one more time before sending them. Otherwise, the exact second Mia walked through the front door with Tyler in tow… This Thanksgiving would have turned into a bloodbath. While I was waiting anxiously in the bathroom, my mom knocked on the door. “Hurry up, Harper! Your sister and her boyfriend are already dressed. We’re just waiting on you to head to the cemetery.” What?! I immediately texted Tyler. “Do you know whose grave my mom is getting ready to visit?” Tyler sent back a single question mark. I replied bluntly: “She’s going to visit YOUR grave!” The second the message delivered, I heard a muffled, strangled gasp come from the living room. He sent back a massive paragraph of text. The core message being: Why the hell did you tell them I was dead?! I replied, “What was I supposed to say? That you were currently cheating on me with my stepsister?” There was a long silence on his end. Meanwhile, right outside the bathroom door, my parents were having a ridiculously comical discussion about visiting Tyler’s grave. “That boy… Mia only mentioned him a few times. I think his last name was Sterling, but neither of us can remember his first name.” “He promised to come visit for the holidays, and then he suddenly passes away. We really should go pay our respects.” I heard Mia chime in, her voice sounding appropriately choked up. “Yes, we should go. Sometimes a wound needs to be opened up and cleaned out, otherwise it never heals.” “Right, Tyler?” Tyler let out an awkward, strained laugh. “Yeah… yeah, absolutely!” The Waiting Game I stayed holed up in the bathroom, praying to whatever higher power existed that the internet would pull through for me. What if?! Just what if?! Just as I was losing hope and reached for the flush handle, a direct message popped up on my screen. A user had sent me an exact location: a specific cemetery, section number, plot number, and a name. In that moment, I believed this random stranger was an actual angel sent from heaven. I replied instantly: “Thank you so much! You’re a lifesaver. Can I get your CashApp or Venmo?” “I’ll send you a little something to say thanks.” But the user never replied. At first, I thought it might be a prank. But after waiting a few more minutes and stepping out of the bathroom, it was the only lead I had. Whatever, I’d gamble on it. I gave my dad the address. As we all piled into the family SUV, my mom kept asking me questions. “I actually had a nice little gift envelope prepared for this young man. Now I can’t even give it to him.” “How did he pass away again?” I racked my brain for a believable lie. “Cancer. He kept complaining about feeling sick right from the beginning. I told him a million times to go see a doctor, but he just refused to go.” My stepdad, who was driving, let out a heavy, emotional sigh. He looked at me through the rearview mirror. “Young people always think they’re invincible and put things off. You can’t be like that, Harper. If you ever feel off, go to the doctor immediately.” I nodded earnestly, playing the role of the perfect, obedient daughter. Mia was sitting next to me, holding my hand and looking at me with deep sympathy. Even though we weren’t blood-related—my mom brought me into the marriage, and Mia was my stepdad’s daughter from his first wife—we had always gotten along well the few times we saw each other over the years. She always treated me like a real sister. Just like right now. She was squeezing my hand, looking like she wanted to say something comforting but didn’t know how. Finally, she looked at me and said, “If I had known your boyfriend just passed away, I never would have brought Tyler home and upset you.” I shook my head. “I’m not upset.” I looked at my mom, then at my stepdad. Honestly, I’ve been pretty content all these years. After my mom remarried, my stepdad treated me incredibly well. He never pressured me to change my last name, and he helped pay for my college tuition. It was my own stubborn pride that kept me at a distance. I always felt like an outsider, refusing to view myself as his “real” daughter and hating the idea of spending his money. Because of that, I didn’t keep in touch with him or Mia as much as I should have. Right now, sitting in this car, we had spoken more in the last twenty minutes than we had in the entire previous year. I smiled, though it felt a bit bitter. My mom seemed to notice I was hurting. “Don’t dwell on it, honey. Everyone has their own destiny. Cancer is unpredictable.” “The poor boy just didn’t have luck on his side. Maybe his next life will be better. Like they always say, sometimes the greatest act of love is letting go.” I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. Those cheesy Facebook quotes actually came in handy sometimes when comforting older folks. My stepdad smiled too. “As long as you’re happy, your mom is happy. And if your mom is happy, I’m happy.” I nodded. In this car, Tyler felt like a complete and utter outsider. He didn’t dare say a single word for the entire drive. Then, Mia suddenly asked, “Harper, I have to ask… after the boy passed, his parents didn’t give you a hard time, did they?” I shook my head. “His parents are dead too!” In the front seat, Tyler violently whipped his head around to stare at me. I tilted my head, looking back at him innocently. “What’s wrong, future brother-in-law? Did you have a question too?” Tyler forced an awkward, strained smile. “No, no. Just… just thinking about how tragic that is for the poor guy.” I nodded solemnly. I squeezed Mia’s hand and continued. “My boyfriend came from a really tough background. His parents were unemployed, and from the very beginning, they entirely relied on him to support them.” “Later on, they started looking down on me. They said my family didn’t look wealthy, and that because Mia and I were freelancers, we didn’t have ‘real’ jobs and probably struggled to eat.” “Whenever I went to their house for dinner, they’d only serve me leftovers.” BANG! My mom violently smacked her hand against the car window. In that instant, the entire SUV fell dead silent. “Then he deserved to die!” Mia spat through gritted teeth. In the front passenger seat, Tyler’s face was turning an increasingly ugly shade of gray. And that was when my stepdad, who had been quiet, finally spoke up. The Journey “He doesn’t even have a job, and he has the nerve to look down on my daughter?! We own our home, we have stable pensions, your sister makes good money—between the three of us, he thinks we couldn’t support you?!” “Good riddance. Good thing he’s dead, otherwise I would have driven straight to his parents’ house and given them a piece of my mind.” To be honest, I hadn’t told them any of this before. My biological father never took my side. When I was a kid, if I was bullied and came home crying, my biological father’s response was to beat both me and my mom. So, I developed a habit of swallowing my grievances and dealing with everything alone. Hearing my stepdad say that so fiercely… I couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. I started bawling in the backseat. Mia and my mom scrambled to find tissues for me. The aftermath was the three of us hugging and crying together in the back, getting so emotional that my stepdad had to pull the car over twice just to wipe his own eyes. Through the tears and the stops, we finally arrived at the address I was given. It was a small, quiet, and slightly older cemetery on the outskirts of town. So small that my parents didn’t even know it existed. I kept staring at the address on my phone, pretending I knew exactly where I was going, and led them through the wrought-iron gates. But internally, I was a nervous wreck. Tyler texted me: “I have to admit, Harper, you’re a freaking genius. How did you even find this place?” I scoffed mentally and ignored him. As I was walking forward blindly, my dad suddenly called out, “Where are you going? You’re so overcome with grief you forgot the way, didn’t you?” I nodded quickly. Squeezing out two more tears. My mom put her arm around my shoulders and guided me down a specific path. It was a relatively new headstone. Perfect. That fit the narrative even better. I secretly vowed to send that helpful Reddit stranger a massive cash reward. The photo on the headstone looked like it had been recently attached. My parents leaned in to look closely. Then they sighed. “Such a handsome young man, gone so soon. It really breaks your heart.” I kept my head bowed, playing the role of the grieving girlfriend. Mia, fully embracing the role of the protective older sister, pulled out a massive bouquet of expensive flowers and placed them at the base of the headstone. “Listen here, kid. You had bad luck. If you were still alive, I had a nice gift card ready for you. Whatever, you can’t spend it over there anyway. Take these flowers, and don’t hold back in the afterlife.” She stood up, brushing the dirt off her knees. Then, as if suddenly remembering something, she turned to Tyler. “Don’t you have anything to say to your future brother-in-law?” “You’re supposed to be stepping up as the man of the house now. Stop standing there like a statue and say a few words!” Tyler stuttered and stammered. He couldn’t get a single word out. Finally, Mia lost her patience and kicked him in the back of the leg. “If you can’t speak, then get down and pay your respects properly!” “You guys shouldn’t care about looking cool at a time like this!” Thud. Thud. Thud. Tyler was forced to his knees, awkwardly bowing his head to the dirt in a traditional sign of deep respect. Every time his head bobbed down, I squeezed my eyes shut. I had only ever heard my stepdad say that Mia was a bit “rough around the edges.” I didn’t realize she was this hardcore. “Two… two bows is enough, right?” I asked tentatively, trying to play peacemaker. Mia forced Tyler down for a third bow. “You can’t do even numbers at a graveyard! It has to be odd!” Tyler stood up slowly, rubbing a small dirt smudge off his forehead. He forced a smile. “It’s fine. I’m fine.” Meanwhile, my parents were busy arranging the things they had brought—some high-end bourbon, expensive cigars, and a platter of fresh, out-of-season fruit that cost a fortune in our area. “When Harper told us her boyfriend was visiting, we went all out. Since you passed, we figured we had to bring it all to you. Keeping it in the house felt like bad luck.” Watching them lay out what was essentially the highest tier of hospitality reserved for a future son-in-law… It made my stomach twist with guilt. I looked down and saw a new text from Tyler. “You better compensate me for this. You literally killed off my entire family in your little story.” The Incident In that exact moment, I wanted to punch him directly in the jaw. But for the sake of my sister and my parents… I swallowed my rage! I crouched down and whispered a few words to this incredibly helpful stranger’s grave. “I don’t know if it was a friend or a relative who gave me your location, but you really saved me today.” “I’ll make sure to come visit you in the future. We’re the same age, I’m sure we’d have a lot to talk about.” I took the small, resilient succulent plant I had brought and tucked it into the soil next to the headstone. “This plant is a survivor. It’ll grow anywhere you put it.” “I hope in your next life, you’re just as resilient.” I read the name etched into the stone. Julian Sterling. [Replaced with: Oliver Sterling.]

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Chapter 1 Five years after my death, Carter Hayes demanded that I take the fall for his first love once again. Clutching a written confession, he stormed into the rundown apartment complex on the wrong side of town, only to be met with my black-and-white memorial portrait and an altar covered in dust. In his bewilderment, he grabbed a neighbor from downstairs and demanded to know where I was. The neighbor replied nonchalantly: “Sarah Evans? She died five years ago.” “It was an absolute tragedy. The family from that medical malpractice lawsuit cornered her in her apartment and stabbed her over a dozen times. Even her little boy took two of the hits!” Carter let out a cynical scoff. “She just took the blame for Chloe once. It was just a revoked medical license. Does she really need to put on this elaborate, melodramatic show?” “Tell me, how much did Sarah pay you to say this? She even got my son to play along with this pathetic pity act!” The neighbor shot Carter an impatient, disgusted look. “Are you blind? Do you not see the memorial shrine right there? For the last five years, that little boy upstairs has been living all by himself. Word around here is that he couldn’t get ahold of his father no matter how hard he tried.” “Bullshit! I’ve been sending Sarah child support every single month!” Carter roared, his anger flaring. “It was just a damn medical license! I’ve been the one paying for her mother’s medical bills too! I can’t believe Sarah has the nerve to use my money to hire actors to put on this play. She’s completely lost her mind!” “You tell her, if her signature isn’t on this confession within three days, I’m cutting off both her mother’s medical funds and the child support!” The neighbor couldn’t take it anymore and spat back, “Her and her old lady are nothing but two memorial portraits sitting right there! You’re the one who’s out of your damn mind!” With that, the neighbor slammed his door shut. Refusing to believe it, Carter kicked open the flimsy, battered front door of the apartment and barged right into my memorial room. I watched as he clutched the confession letter. Without even glancing at the portraits of me and my mother, he shouted: “Sarah Evans, get the hell out here right now! Chloe is about to be sentenced to prison, and you’re still throwing a tantrum?!” Five years ago, a patient died under Chloe Miller’s care. Carter used my mother’s life-saving medical funds to blackmail me into taking the fall for her. Then, to protect the reputation of the Hayes Corporation, he coldly and ruthlessly kicked both me and our son, Leo, out of our home and banished us to this slum. For five years, he never contacted me once. I never expected that his sudden reappearance would be to demand I take the fall for his precious first love yet again. Carter paced around the tiny room twice. Failing to find me, he curled his lip in deep dissatisfaction. “You’re an unemployed parasite who relies entirely on me to survive, and you dare throw a tantrum? You really must have a death wish!” “Chloe is about to be locked up, and you’re still hiding. I know exactly what you’re doing. You’re trying to use this as leverage to force your way back into my life. Keep dreaming!” His eyes, red with anger, swept viciously across the room as he barked an order to his men: “Smash this place to pieces! Cut off all funding for her mother’s medical bills and Leo’s child support! Let’s see how long she can hold out!” The moment the words left his mouth, several men rushed in and began destroying the apartment. The framed photos and the meager, cheap furniture were all hurled to the floor. The memorial portraits of me and my mother were smashed to pieces. I desperately tried to stop them, but my hands passed right through everything. “No! This is my and Leo’s home! This is all we have left!” “Carter, I’m already dead! Make them stop!” Carter just stood there, watching the destruction with cold, detached eyes. Noticing that his men had intentionally avoided the two cheap-looking urns sitting in front of the altar, he actually walked over to them. He picked up the two urns and sneered: “Sarah, your acting is pretty convincing. You even bought prop urns.” “You’re willing to curse yourself and your own mother just to see Chloe go to prison. You are truly a vicious, toxic bitch!” With that, he raised the two urns, preparing to smash them onto the floor! Just then, a small noise came from inside the apartment. Chapter 2 Carter froze, a cold smirk forming as he looked toward the inner room. “Sarah, I knew you weren’t dead. Finally couldn’t hold it in anymore and decided to show yourself?” “Let me tell you right now, you are signing this confession today, or else…” Before he could finish his threat, a tiny figure peeked out, looking at him with immense caution. “Daddy, Mommy is dead.” Looking at the frail, tiny Leo standing before him, a flash of shock crossed Carter’s eyes. At eight years old, Leo looked no different than he did when he was three. A sob tore from my spectral throat. I desperately tried to push Leo back into the room to hide him. Carter had gone completely insane trying to find a scapegoat for Chloe. Even though Leo was his own flesh and blood, there was no guarantee he wouldn’t hurt him. Sure enough, Carter’s gaze turned icy, though he tried to soften his tone: “Leo? Why did your mother let you get so skinny? Where is she? Once I make her sign this, I’ll take you home, okay?” “Do you remember Auntie Chloe? She misses you so much. You’ll live with us from now on.” Leo timidly pointed a trembling finger at the urns in Carter’s hands. “Daddy, Mommy and Grandma are right there.” Carter instantly lost his patience. He violently hurled both urns onto the floor. The gray-white ashes spilled everywhere. Leo froze for a split second, then lunged forward, trying to gather the ashes. Carter shoved him away impatiently, his expensive leather shoe grinding heavily into the spilled remains. “Sarah really has ruined you! You even know how to lie now! How could she possibly be dead?!” Leo burst into tears, wailing loudly. Through his sobs, he cried: “Mommy really is dead! The family of the lady Auntie Chloe killed came looking for her. They brought knives and hacked Mommy to death!” Crying uncontrollably, Leo pointed to the thick, jagged scars on his own small body. “Daddy, I’m not lying. I have scars too.” Looking at his son sobbing in agony, a flicker of doubt finally crossed Carter’s eyes. He gripped the confession letter tightly, a brief flash of pain twisting his features. The next second, his phone chimed. Chloe had texted him two photos, followed immediately by a phone call. “Carter, Sarah took her mom and ran away. She must still resent me for what happened years ago.” “I guess… I guess I’ll just have to go to prison. Just please, Carter, promise you won’t forget me.” As soon as she finished speaking, she hung up. Panic washed over Carter’s face. He quickly dialed her back. “Chloe, don’t do anything stupid! You’re about to be promoted to Chief of Surgery, your future is so bright! You can’t go to prison!” “Don’t worry, no matter where Sarah ran off to, I will drag her back. I promise you won’t go down for this!” Hanging up the phone, Carter violently yanked Leo toward him. “I funded your mother’s life for five years! What the hell could an ex-con do after getting out of prison anyway?! For all these years, I’m the one who paid for her deadbeat mother’s hospital bills! She owes me, and now is the time to pay up! Leo, if you still want to call me your father, tell me exactly where your mother is right now!” Carter’s rough, aggressive handling terrified Leo, making his small body tremble violently. A sharp, agonizing pain ripped through my chest. Carter had absolutely no idea. Five years ago, after I took the fall and had my medical license permanently revoked, I was immediately banished to this slum. As for the so-called “child support,” I never saw a single cent of it. The money had all gone to Chloe’s bank account. She used those funds to hire local street thugs to relentlessly harass me day and night. The moment I stepped out the door, I would be cornered in an alley and beaten. When I finally managed to contact my old medical school mentor for help, I was ambushed at the door of my apartment by the furious family of the patient Chloe had killed. Seventeen stab wounds. Every single one lethal. My very last memory before I died was Leo, crying hysterically, calling Carter for help—only to have the call mercilessly hung up, over and over again. The sound of Leo’s crying in the present merged with the echoes of that horrific day. Seeing that Leo was only crying and not answering, Carter, in a fit of frustration, slapped his own son hard across the face! Then, he roared in anger: “Tell me where your mother is right now! If she doesn’t show her face, I’m going straight to the hospital to cut off your grandmother’s life support!” Leo was crying so hard he was hyperventilating. Under Carter’s terrifying threats, he could only answer through his tears: “Mommy is really dead. Grandma is dead too. Daddy, you can go ask the police officers. I’m not a liar.” Looking at Leo’s red, swollen cheek, a fleeting trace of guilt flashed in Carter’s eyes. But almost immediately, Chloe called again. “Carter, the patient’s family is at my door! They’re saying I need to pay for her life with mine! You have to come back and save me!” The moment she said that, Carter shoved Leo aside without a second thought! In his frantic rush to leave, he didn’t even notice that Leo had been shoved so hard his head slammed violently against the sharp edge of the coffee table. Blood instantly gushed out, pooling on the floor. Leo weakly reached out a trembling, bloodstained hand, trying to ask his father for help. But Carter was entirely focused on reassuring Chloe on the phone. “Don’t be afraid. I’m on my way back right now!” Chapter 3 Carter pushed open the door to Chloe’s luxury townhouse. Before he could even look for the supposedly rioting family members, Chloe threw herself into his arms. “Carter, you found Sarah, right? She agreed to take the blame, didn’t she?” As she spoke, she hurriedly snatched the confession letter from Carter’s hand. When she saw that my signature wasn’t on the dotted line, her face instantly turned ghost-white. “Why isn’t it signed?! Why won’t she take the fall for me?! That pathetic bitch…” Chloe’s face twisted into a mask of pure malice. Just as she was about to spit out more venom, she noticed Carter’s deeply furrowed brow and quickly caught herself, changing her tone entirely. “Carter, forget it. It seems she’s still holding a grudge over what happened five years ago. I’ll just go to prison myself. As long as you’re okay, I’ll be fine.” Chloe’s eyes instantly welled up with red-rimmed tears. It was a move she had used countless times before. And sure enough, it worked. Carter hurriedly pulled her into a tight embrace. “Chloe, don’t worry. Just because I couldn’t find her doesn’t mean the police can’t! If she refuses to sign the confession, I’ll find someone who will make sure her name gets on that paper!” A ruthless, dark glint flashed in Carter’s eyes. Chloe hid the victorious gleam in her eyes, feigning deep emotion as she hugged him back. “But if we do that, Sarah will have to serve five years in federal prison this time. I remember your parents already had a problem with her, right? I’m afraid they might force you to divorce her…” Carter’s face darkened. “Sarah and I are never getting divorced!” “We made a promise to stay together for the rest of our lives, and I don’t break my promises. Even though she’s spent the last five years raising Leo into a pathological liar, and throwing a tantrum by refusing to help you out… once I find her this time, I will make sure she learns her lesson.” “When she gets out of prison in five years, we’ll go back to being a normal family.” I was so shocked by this delusion that my ghost literally floated in circles. What Carter meant was that he was planning to cut ties with Chloe entirely. Years ago, he had abandoned me and Leo countless times just to be at Chloe’s beck and call. Even when Leo was hospitalized with a dangerously high fever, Carter abandoned us at the ER without a second thought just because Chloe called him. And now, for the sake of some casual promise we made when we were young and stupidly in love, he was voluntarily planning to cut contact with Chloe? Chloe’s features contorted in absolute rage. But remembering the looming threat of prison, she swallowed her anger, forcing herself to look up at him with a pathetic, wronged expression. Carter’s heart softened for a moment. Just as he was about to comfort her, his phone rang sharply. “Is this Mr. Carter Hayes? Your son, Leo, was just brought into the ER by ambulance with massive cranial hemorrhaging. Please come immediately to authorize his emergency surgery and pay the deposit.” “Heh! Are you scammers really getting this sophisticated now? Let him die, then. I’m not paying a cent.” Carter sneered coldly. The hospital staff on the other end was utterly appalled. “Mr. Hayes, your son’s life is in critical danger right now. If you don’t pay the deposit, we cannot proceed with the surgery. We are calling from City General. You can come verify it yourself right now.” Carter frowned, a brief flash of hesitation crossing his face. “Carter, Sarah is actually using her own child just to avoid taking the blame. She must truly hate me!” Chloe looked up at him, her face a portrait of victimization. Carter’s eyes hardened. He suppressed the rising unease in his chest and said furiously: “Enough! I don’t care how much money Sarah paid you to put on this show. When I left earlier, Leo was perfectly fine. How dare she curse her own son just to play a trick! She’s not afraid of karma?!” With that, he violently hung up the phone. I floated around him in a frantic panic, wanting nothing more than to force him to wire the money immediately. But Carter was completely consumed with having his assistant forge my signature on the confession letter. Once done, he took Chloe straight to the police precinct. “Officer, the medical malpractice incident that occurred at Emerson Hospital was caused by my wife. Here is her signed confession!” The detective frowned as he took the document. A few minutes later, he looked at Carter like he was looking at an absolute lunatic. “Mr. Hayes, are you attempting to obstruct a police investigation? You actually had the nerve to forge a confession document!” Carter’s heart skipped a beat. “This was signed by my wife! She has fled to avoid prosecution.” The detective gave him a dead, icy stare. “The Sarah Evans you’re talking about was stabbed to death five years ago by the family of a victim from a completely different medical malpractice case!” “When we closed the case, we tried to contact you, but you never answered your phone. In the end, it was her child who had to claim her ashes.” “You tell me: how exactly did a woman who has been dead for five years sign this confession?” All the color instantly drained from Chloe’s face, leaving her as white as a sheet. Chapter 4 Carter’s body stiffened for a fraction of a second. But almost immediately, he let out a cynical laugh. “So all the money I’ve been sending Sarah for the past five years… she used it all to bribe the police department?!” “No wonder Leo hasn’t grown an inch in five years. She’s really pulled out all the stops, hasn’t she?!” Carter slammed his hand angrily on the interrogation desk. Right at that moment, the hospital called again. “Mr. Hayes, the child’s condition is extremely critical. If you do not authorize payment immediately, I’m afraid he won’t last another ten minutes!” Carter gritted his teeth, his voice dripping with absolute impatience: “Then let him die! When he’s dead, don’t bother calling me. Just send him straight to the crematorium from the hospital. Are we clear?!” He violently ended the call. Floating in the air, I wept tears of blood. I hated myself for not running as far away from Carter as possible all those years ago. Because of my mistake, my precious Leo was about to be murdered by his own biological father. Fuming with anger, his expensive leather shoes clicking sharply on the pavement, Carter marched directly to the nursing home where my mother used to stay. Only to find that my mother’s file had been purged years ago. She had also passed away five years prior. “I heard the poor woman couldn’t handle the shock of finding out her daughter had been murdered. She passed away that exact same night,” the receptionist mentioned. My heart constricted so tightly I couldn’t breathe. The brutal karma that Chloe should have suffered had entirely fallen upon me and my mother. Facing setback after setback, Carter’s brow furrowed tightly. He finally began to suspect that what he had been told might actually be the truth. He pulled out his phone and texted his executive assistant. [Run a full background check on Sarah Evans and her mother.] The very next second, Chloe called him. “Carter, I don’t know if I should tell you this, but I just saw Sarah at the airport. She was holding hands with a man, and they had Leo with them.” “At the end of the day, it was my fault for not being careful enough during that surgery. Just let Sarah go. I’ll take the prison sentence.” As soon as she finished speaking, she sent him two blurry, grainy photos. It showed the silhouettes of a woman and a child who looked like me and Leo. And standing next to “me” was a man, pulling me into a passionate kiss. The muscles in Carter’s forehead twitched violently with rage. Sarah had played him for an absolute fool. He had actually almost believed she was dead! The fury of being played, the humiliation of being betrayed—it completely shattered Carter’s remaining sanity. He violently smashed his phone onto the ground and sprinted toward the nearest family court division. “I want to file for emergency full custody of my son! I’m taking him away from his mother!” As long as he had custody of Leo, Sarah would never be able to run away! Carter’s eyes burned with a manic, obsessive frenzy. Right at that moment, a hospital administrator suddenly appeared at the precinct doors. He scrutinized Carter for a moment before suddenly speaking up: “You’re Mr. Carter Hayes, correct? Your son, Leo, stopped breathing half an hour ago. We were just about to file the paperwork to void his birth registry and issue a death certificate. Since you’re here, you can handle it yourself.” The words hung in the air. Carter hadn’t even processed them yet. The police officer standing behind him added: “Mr. Hayes, you cannot file for custody against Ms. Evans. Ms. Evans passed away five years ago. And your son was issued a death certificate exactly thirty minutes ago.”

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Just as our wedding night came to a close, Liam held me in his arms and suddenly said: “There’s something I need to tell you.” “Legally, I already have a wife.” “We won’t be able to go to the courthouse to sign the marriage license tomorrow. But aside from that piece of paper, I can give you anything you want.” My mind went blank with a loud ringing. “You’re… married? Why didn’t you mention this once in all these years?” He got up to get dressed, the hickey I left on his neck still visible. “Chloe, I love you the most. We have ten years of history, after all.” “She… was forced on me by my family years ago. Since I took her in, I have to be responsible for her.” I lay paralyzed on our messy bridal bed, the lingering warmth of our intimacy still beneath me. The decorative “Just Married” sign on the wall was as glaringly red as a slap to the face. 1. Maybe the devastation on my face was too obvious. Liam sighed, took my hand, and placed our hands with the wedding bands together. “Chloe, look. Nothing is actually different.” “The wedding, the ring, the title—they’re all yours. Everyone knows you are the rightful Mrs. Sterling.” “As for her… just pretend she doesn’t exist.” He turned, meeting my red, tear-filled eyes. His voice softened. “Come on, don’t throw a tantrum.” “My Chloe is the most understanding, right?” I dodged his touch and said coldly: “We’re breaking up.” Liam’s smile froze. He let go of my hand, lit a cigarette, and said with a hint of exhaustion: “I don’t agree.” “Then divorce her.” Liam stared at me. After a long silence, he said: “Chloe, I’ll be honest with you.” “Sarah and I got married seven years ago. For those seven years, she has taken perfect care of my parents. I have no reason to divorce her.” Seven years ago? That was right after we graduated from college. We had already been dating for three years by then. He married someone else behind my back back then? My stomach churned. I rushed to the bathroom and dry heaved. “There’s no need to overreact like this.” Liam followed me in, gently patting my back. “I don’t have any real physical relationship with her. It was just a strategic marriage arranged by our parents. I had to fulfill the contract.” “The person I love most is still you.” I turned to look at him. His eyes were full of worry. It was the look I had loved most for the past ten years. But at this moment, it made me feel incredibly sick. “Overreact?” “You made me the other woman for seven years, and you’re telling me I’m overreacting?” Liam frowned, a flash of impatience in his eyes. “You’re making it sound so ugly. What do you mean, ‘the other woman’? We dated first. I just married her without telling you.” “You did nothing wrong, so you don’t need to feel guilty.” “Besides, we just lack that piece of paper. In my heart, you are my wife.” Saying that, he reached out to stroke my hair, trying to comfort me. “Don’t touch me!” I swatted his hand away. His hand froze in mid-air. In our ten years together, we had never had a real fight. I used to think it was proof of how much we loved each other. Now I understood. It was a complete and utter scam! Liam pinched the bridge of his nose, losing his patience. “Fine. Let’s both take the night to cool off.” “Chloe, think about it carefully. Giving up our ten-year relationship, the future we planned together, and your parents’ expectations… all for a piece of paper. Is it really worth it?” The door slammed shut. I started dry heaving uncontrollably. My back arched like a bow, but I couldn’t throw up anything. Tears and snot mixed on my face; I must have looked hideous. After I finished crying, I made up my mind. I got off the floor and started packing my bags. I had moved in with so much hope and excitement, and now I was moving out completely shattered. I couldn’t help but laugh at myself. My phone suddenly pinged. It was Liam’s mother. She had posted on Facebook: [My daughter-in-law is so thoughtful.] The photo showed the dining room of the Sterling family estate, featuring a table full of food. I didn’t cook that. In the past, my first thought would have been that Liam had ordered dinner for his mother in my name to help improve our relationship. I would have even rewarded him when I saw him. But now I understood. The “daughter-in-law” his mother was talking about was never me. I was just a woman who was forced to be the mistress for seven years. 2. In the middle of the night, I dragged my suitcase out of our bridal home. I walked aimlessly down the street. Suddenly, my phone rang. It was my dad. “Chloe, Liam mentioned that you two… had a little disagreement?” Hearing my dad’s voice made me want to cry. But afraid he’d worry, I held it back. My dad continued: “We’ve all seen how well Liam treats you. Tell me, in all these years, has he ever mistreated you?” How well? Like when we graduated, and his parents disapproved of us, so he resolutely cut ties with his wealthy family for me? From a glamorous rich kid to squeezing into a freezing, cramped basement apartment with me, he never complained once. Or when I worked late into the night, and he—despite struggling with his own startup—always showed up outside my office on time with a warm midnight snack? Or when he had a terrible time entertaining clients, but would always adjust his mood in the car before walking through our door with a bright smile, never letting the outside storms touch me? Those details, that seemingly ordinary yet pervasive care and protection. They flashed through my mind now like a slow-motion movie. So vivid. So warm. His kindness to me was real. But the fact that he married someone else was also real. “Chloe? Are you listening?” My dad’s voice pulled me back from my memories. “I’m listening,” I answered. “Dad, I…” I wanted to tell him what happened tonight. But the words felt stuck in my throat like cotton. What could I say? Your daughter was scammed for a decade and has been an unwitting mistress for seven years? Your perfect future son-in-law actually married someone else seven years ago? “Chloe, there’s something I need to tell you,” my dad said before I could finish. “In a month, your mother is going to have heart bypass surgery.” Suddenly, all the bitterness and accusations welling up in my throat froze. “The doctor said she cannot have any major emotional swings before or after the surgery, or it could be life-threatening.” “So Chloe, please, Dad is begging you. During this time, no matter what, we need peace in the family. We can’t let your mother worry about anything…” My dad went on, telling me to take care of my health, not to stay up late, to communicate properly with Liam… I couldn’t hear a single word of it. All that was left in my ears was a buzzing roar. The call ended. I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I crouched on the empty street and wailed. Crying for my ten years of seemingly flawless love. Crying for my mother’s life, hanging by a thread. Crying for the beautiful, gilded cage Liam had built for me with a decade of deep affection. I don’t know when it started raining. From a fine drizzle to a torrential downpour… I was drenched on the street corner, unable to tell if it was rain or tears on my face. Suddenly, an umbrella appeared over my head. I looked up. It was Liam. Just like the past ten years, he held me tightly. I could feel his arms trembling. “Come home with me…” “Chloe, I only posted that photo on my mom’s phone to make you mad. I never meant to break up with you…” Liam grabbed my suitcase and gently shoved me into the passenger seat of his car. He promised me: “Don’t worry, I’ll handle it. I’ll divorce Sarah.” “We’ll live a good life together.” “Chloe, your dad told me about your mom…” I stayed silent. I just stared at him blankly. The unfamiliar perfume scent on him, the unfamiliar shade of lipstick on his collar… They all belonged to another woman. I closed my eyes, feeling incredibly exhausted. But Liam didn’t notice my numbness; he just kept rambling about how he was going to hire the best medical team for my mom. I leaned my head against the car window. I didn’t even have the energy to reply. 3. Over the next half month, to avoid Liam, I used taking care of my mom as an excuse and practically lived at the hospital. Liam didn’t get mad. Instead, he perfectly delivered on his promise. He used his connections to bring in top-tier specialists for a consultation, crafting the most flawless treatment plan for my mom’s bypass surgery. He even pushed back his work schedule to stay with me at the hospital overnight. He acted like the absolute perfect son-in-law. My mom’s color looked a bit better. She held my hand and said to him: “Liam, knowing Chloe has you to take care of her puts my mind at ease.” He naturally held my hand, intertwining our fingers, his gaze sincere. “Mom, I’ll treat Chloe right for the rest of my life.” Seeing my mom’s earnest eyes, I looked down and nodded. But my heart felt like a waterlogged sponge, heavy and suffocating. Everything seemed normal. The turning point happened one afternoon. Liam was called away for an emergency at his company, so I went to the hospital room alone. I pushed the door open and saw that my mom’s caretaker had been swapped. I had seen that face in the photos Liam’s mother posted on Facebook. Sarah. She was talking to my mom: “…My husband is actually a really good guy. He’s just too soft-hearted and got entangled with someone outside.” “That girl has been with him for years. He always says he can’t cut her off because he’s afraid of breaking her heart.” “My heart… sometimes it just feels so awful. That’s why I came out to do some work, to distract myself.” My mom listened, a sympathetic look on her face. I stood in the doorway, the blood in my veins instantly freezing. “Chloe, you’re here?” My mom saw me and smiled. “This caretaker, Sarah, has such a hard life. If you ask me, those women who become mistresses are absolutely shameless…” I forced a stiff smile and said: “Mom, I brought some soup. Have a taste.” Then I turned to Sarah: “Can you step outside for a moment? I have something to ask you.” At the end of the hallway. I looked at her: “Those things you said—you did that on purpose so my mom would hear?” Sarah’s meek demeanor vanished, the corners of her mouth curling into a very faint smirk: “I was just talking about my own family issues. Is that a problem?” “Whatever is between us, leave my parents out of it.” I kept my voice low, trying to be reasonable. “We are both victims here. If there’s something to discuss, we can talk…” “Victims?” She let out a scoff, cutting me off. “Chloe, you’ve been a mistress for seven years, and you actually feel justified?” “Talk to you?” “Did you really think Liam would divorce me for you? He’s just stringing you along.” “Even your own mother says you’re shameless. Chloe, do you have the guts to tell your mom that you’re the mistress?” I clenched my fists, wanting to argue, wanting to hit her. But I suppressed it with everything I had. Because we were in a hospital. I couldn’t cause a scene, and I couldn’t agitate my mother. But she wouldn’t let it go: “Oh, I get it. You’re afraid it’ll affect your mom’s surgery.” “But honestly, even if you don’t say anything, I doubt your mom’s surgery will go well.” “After all, she’s old and in poor health. Who knows… she might not even make it to the operating table…” The tightly wound string in my brain snapped. By the time I realized what I was doing, my palm was already stinging. I had slapped her hard across the face. Sarah shrieked, stumbling back and covering her cheek. “What are you doing?!” Liam’s voice suddenly rang out. He rushed over, immediately pulling Sarah behind him, grabbing my wrist with a lot of force. “Chloe! How could you hit someone?” Sarah instantly hid behind him, tears flowing on cue, her voice trembling: “Liam… I just saw her mom was lonely, so I kindly came over to help out and keep her company…” “I don’t know why Ms. Evans is so angry. She just came up and hit me…” She sobbed, looking incredibly fragile and pitiful. Completely different from the vicious woman who was just talking to me. “Ask her what she said!” I was shaking with anger, trying to shake off Liam’s grip. Liam frowned tightly. He looked at Sarah’s red, swollen cheek. Then he looked at the agitated me, his eyes filled with disappointment and annoyance: “She’s always been so gentle. What could she possibly have said?” “Even if she did say something, you shouldn’t have gotten physical!” “Chloe, when did you become so unreasonable? Getting physical over a disagreement?” “I’m unreasonable?” I wanted to laugh, but tears stubbornly welled up. “Liam, the unreasonable one is you! If you hadn’t been two-timing us, would she and I ever…” “Enough!” He scolded, putting an arm around Sarah’s shoulders. “I’m taking her home first.” “Cool off and take a good look at your own behavior.” He left with Sarah, without giving me another glance. Soon, I understood exactly what he meant by “cool off.” 4. That very night. The hospital notified us that the original expert medical team had been temporarily reassigned to handle other emergency cases. Following that, vile rumors began spreading through the inpatient ward. About me, about “knowingly being a mistress,” about “harassing a married man”… I don’t know how my mom heard about it, but her face turned deathly pale. She clutched her chest, unable to breathe, and was rushed into the emergency resuscitation room. But the top medical team had already been pulled away. My dad was sweating profusely from anxiety. He grabbed me and asked: “Chloe, what is going on?” “Everything was fine. Why did the doctors just up and leave?” “Your mom’s condition is critical, she needs surgery right now!” My hands shook so badly I could barely hold my phone as I dialed Liam’s number over and over again. No one answered. Desperate, I called Sarah’s phone. Finally, the call connected. “Hello?” “Put Liam on the phone!” My voice was incredibly hoarse. The other end paused for a moment before Liam’s cold voice came through: “Have you thought things through?” “Give the medical team back! Please…” I dug my fingernails into my palms. “I can do that.” His tone was flat. “Come to the Riverside Condo and apologize to Sarah.” “If she’s satisfied, the team goes back.” The Riverside Condo was his other apartment. I went. Because I couldn’t just stand by and watch my mother… die. Inside the condo. Sarah sat on the couch; any mark on her cheek had long vanished. Liam stood by the window, his back to me. “I’m not trying to make things difficult for you on purpose. But I have my dignity too.” “I was hit for no reason, I deserve an apology, right?” Sarah spoke softly, but her eyes were full of provocation. I looked at her, then at Liam’s back. “I’m sorry,” I said. “Can’t hear you,” she blinked. “I’m sorry!” I raised my voice. “Just saying it isn’t enough.” She sighed, as if she were deeply conflicted. “How about this: kneel down and say it. Slap your own face. Whenever I’m satisfied, we’ll call it even.” “Liam, what do you think?” Liam didn’t make a sound. He just silently turned around. I closed my eyes. My knees hit the cold hardwood floor with a dull thud. I raised my hand and slapped my own face, hard. One slap after another. The sound was crisp. A burning heat quickly spread across my cheeks. “Is this enough?” I looked up at them: “Can the medical team go back now?” “I’ll do whatever you want, but my mom… she can’t wait any longer…” Sarah looked at Liam, about to say something. Suddenly, my phone started ringing like crazy. It was my dad. A wave of suffocating terror instantly gripped me. I answered with trembling hands. “Chloe…” “Your mom… she’s gone… her heart stopped just now… they couldn’t bring her back…” The phone slipped from my hand and crashed to the floor. I sat slumped there, completely motionless, unable to even shed a tear. The world dissolved into a blur of gray static. Liam seemed to notice something was wrong and turned around. He saw the look on my face, froze for a second, and walked over quickly: “Chloe? What’s wrong?” “Did something happen with Mom?” “Don’t be afraid. I already made arrangements. Mom is going to be fine.” “Your mom was so good to me, how could I actually just leave her? I just wanted to teach you a lesson…” He crouched down, reaching out to touch me. I slowly, incredibly slowly, raised my head and looked at him. Looking at this face I had loved for ten years, which now seemed so utterly alien. All the emotions—the love, the hate, the entanglement, the pain, the bitterness… They were all hollowed out in that single instant. Leaving nothing but cold ash. A lesson? But… I heard my own voice, terrifyingly calm: “Liam, my mom is dead…”

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