Category: English

I loved him for ten years, but I accidentally witnessed my husband Ethan and a female streamer making out in the elevator. When I confronted him with red-rimmed eyes, he said: “I still love you, but you’re old and boring now.” Ethan turned and pulled his mistress close: “Sophie is young, and… she looks a bit like you. That’s proof enough that I still love you.” I was infuriated by his absurd logic. So in his eyes, cheating was his way of showing devotion to me. I immediately posted photos of him and his mistress cheating online. But Ethan locked me in the basement and forced me to kneel and apologize to Sophie. I continued to fight back, and he continued to force me to apologize. Until the tenth time, when Ethan once again forced me to publicly clear things up for that female streamer. I pulled out the divorce papers and chose to compromise. Charlotte POV When Ethan once again forced me to publicly clear things up for that female streamer. I chose to compromise. His hand paused slightly while adjusting his tie. After a long moment, he smirked: “What, being so obedient this time?” “Did you finally realize that making a scene is useless, so you’re trying a new tactic?” I opened Ins and spoke calmly: “No, I just don’t want to keep entangling anymore.” After a long silence, Ethan picked up the car keys from the table. Leaning against the entrance, he said unhurriedly: “Actually, there’s no rush.” “It’s mainly because Sophie is in a critical period for the Golden Microphone Award selection.” “You always use the title of Mrs. Walker to pressure her. It’s really annoying.” I didn’t answer. Word by word. I seriously posted the tenth clarification statement in five years on that account with only a few hundred followers. Admitting I was being unreasonable, admitting Sophie and Ethan were just a simple boss-subordinate relationship. After posting, I said: “Don’t worry, it won’t happen again.” Ethan’s figure paused slightly, as if thinking about something. A moment later, he straightened up, his voice carrying a barely perceptible irritation: “That’s for the best.” “Otherwise… you know the consequences.” My body trembled involuntarily. Last time I refused to compromise and went to the TV station to confront him. I was directly mocked on Sophie’s live show as a crazy woman with extreme control issues. Afterward, her millions of fans dug up my gallery address and splashed paint on it for three whole days. When he heard about my gallery going bankrupt. Ethan was just like this, watching me break down with complete calm. Then he raised an eyebrow and dropped a line: “Charlotte, have you learned your lesson?” How strange. It was so humiliating and hopeless at the time. But thinking back on it now. My heart felt nothing. As the door closed, Ethan left. He was rushing to celebrate with his new love. I had no time for sadness. With trembling hands, I opened my phone messages. Two messages popped up on the screen. One from the bank: [Your supplementary card has been unfrozen.] The other from the emergency room ten minutes ago: [Ms. Harper, if the surgery fee isn’t paid soon, the ICU equipment will be adjusted according to procedure if further delayed.] I stared at those words, my fingertips cold. I took a deep breath and quickly transferred all the newly unfrozen money into the hospital account. Watching the successful transfer screen, I collapsed onto the cold floor. That clarification post on Ins was the only bargaining chip I had to keep Grandma alive. As long as the money arrived, the equipment wouldn’t be removed, and Grandma could hold on until surgery day. I lifted the back of my hand to wipe the cold sweat from my forehead, my gaze falling on the critical condition notice the caregiver had just sent. The red danger character stung my eyes. Only then did I realize. I could finally let go of this relationship. On the TV screen. Sophie was hosting “Metropolitan Observer,” the number one rated show nationwide, smiling with intellectual elegance. She gradually overlapped with the memory of that timid intern who used to follow me calling me Ms. Harper. Ethan had one thing right. Sophie was indeed in a critical period for the Golden Microphone Award selection. Those rumors about her being a homewrecker not only didn’t affect her. Instead, her team used them for publicity. A few lines she said on the show about daring to love and hate were clipped into short videos and spread everywhere. Fans praised her as a clear-headed, independent strong female lead. But the first time I discovered Ethan’s change of heart. It came from Sophie actively crossing boundaries. At that time, in Ethan’s study, I saw Sophie’s late-night makeup test photos she’d sent him. During that period, all the socialite wives I knew were advising me. Advising me to be magnanimous. But I hated that Ethan betrayed our vows. Hated that he forgot who stayed up late writing business proposals for him until she had a stomach bleed during his most difficult startup days. Yet he himself took a substitute who looked a bit like my younger self, thriving in high society. I was unwilling and refused to compromise. Until that time, I confronted him with the contract for the multi-million dollar mansion he’d given Sophie. The matter blew up big. To protect Sophie’s public image. Ethan decisively chose to suppress the news and locked me in the villa for a whole week. At that time, the entire finance section was praising the Walker Group CEO’s business empire. I was so provoked I went crazy, screaming at Ethan when he came home. Ethan patiently let Sophie leave first, which made me break down even more. I threw that property deed with Sophie’s name on it in his face, calling him an immoral bastard. In the end, he said coldly: “Yes! I am keeping her, so what? If you can’t take it, then get lost!” When those words landed, both he and I froze. But in the end, I was the first to speak. I became even more hysterical than before. “Why should I be the one to leave?!” “Why should I fulfill you and that bitch?!” “Ethan Walker, you owe me for life! You and her should be condemned forever!!!”

Charlotte POV After that argument, we parted on bad terms. Ethan didn’t even come home anymore. The only way I could know his whereabouts was through Sophie’s talk show previews. Under multiple blows, I made an extreme decision to drag them both to hell. I compiled evidence of Ethan’s suspected irregular operations during his startup period, as well as Sophie’s use of charity funds for money laundering. Planning to send it directly to the regulatory department. But before I could click send on the email, Ethan made his move. He not only froze all my supplementary cards. He also used his connections to cut off the imported medicine supply for my grandmother in the ICU. That was the last lifeline keeping Grandma alive. The moment I learned the news, I broke down. I didn’t even notice the provocative post Sophie made on Ins. I frantically dialed his number and screamed: “Ethan Walker, you clearly know Grandma’s surgery is this week!” “You clearly know stopping the medicine will kill her!” “How can you be so heartless?!” But Ethan remained unmoved. The sound of papers rustling came through the phone, terrifyingly calm. Only after I collapsed exhausted on the cold floor. Did he speak casually: “Charlotte, don’t expect me to go easy on you.” “You know, Sophie’s new show still needs a newsworthy guest.” “Tonight at eight, come to the station to record a clarification interview. As long as you perform well, the medicine will naturally be renewed.” In that moment, my heart suffocated like never before. I couldn’t even believe the cold-blooded man on the phone. Was once the boy who ran through half the city in a snowstorm just to buy me a cake. It was also in that moment I finally understood. The Ethan who loved me had long been dead. Dead in the decadence of fame and fortune. For Grandma, I could only wipe my tears. It was also that day, looking at my haggard self in the mirror. I finally decided to end this marriage that had made me unrecognizable. But what made me miserable was far from over. Grandma’s illness couldn’t wait. I could only choose to compromise. That night at eight, I appeared on time at the TV station’s studio. The moment the spotlight came on, I felt a moment of disorientation. Once, I was a regular here. When Ethan first took over the group’s media division, countless all-nighters were spent with me in the corner of this studio, helping him revise scripts and supervising rehearsals. Back then the staff respectfully called me Ms. Harper. But now, I sat on a cold bench at the edge of the guest seats. While Sophie sat in the main seat, wearing a pure white business suit with exquisite makeup. The live broadcast began. Sophie smiled warmly at the camera: “Today we have a special guest. She was once Mr. Walker’s capable assistant, but for various reasons, regrettably departed. Let’s welcome Ms. Charlotte Harper.” She emphasized the words “regrettably departed” heavily. Immediately after, a series of photos appeared on the big screen behind me. They were candid photos of me without makeup from the past few years when I was exhausted, contrasted with Sophie’s polished and retouched images. Sophie pretended to be shocked and covered her mouth: “I heard your mental state hasn’t been very good recently, always imagining non-existent business disputes. Actually, Mr. Walker has always been very understanding toward you, even keeping a nominal position for you at the company.” “Look, this is the mental health fund Mr. Walker set up for you. As long as you’re willing to cooperate with treatment…” She took out a document and waved it in front of the camera. That wasn’t any fund document at all—it was clearly a mental evaluation application. I jerked my head up to look at Ethan in the audience. He sat in the first row, hands folded, watching all this coldly. Tacitly agreeing that I was a lunatic. My hand holding the microphone was trembling. I wanted to refute. But a cold prompt came through my earpiece from the director: “Ms. Harper, if you don’t want the hospital to lose power, please answer according to the script.” That was Grandma’s ventilator lifeline! There absolutely couldn’t be a power outage! I closed my eyes and swallowed my hatred. Under the gaze of millions of viewers, I nodded mechanically: “Yes… my mental state isn’t good.” “I misunderstood Ms. Sophie.” “I… don’t deserve Ethan Walker.” In that moment, the comments exploded. The studio’s big screen scrolled real-time viewer comments, each one cutting to the heart: “OMG, so she’s crazy? I knew there was no way Goddess Sophie could be a homewrecker.” “This woman looks abnormal. No wonder Mr. Walker dumped her.” “A mental patient coming out to attack people? Suggest sending her straight to the asylum, don’t let her harm society!” “Crowdfunding to send her in, I’ll contribute five bucks!” “I’ll contribute ten bucks to cleanse Mr. Walker’s eyes!” That half-hour live broadcast felt like a lifetime. The moment the director called cut, Sophie immediately dropped her compassionate facade. She walked up to me and in a voice only we could hear, laughed contemptuously: “Charlotte, you see, this is how public opinion works now.” “As long as I control the narrative, I can make black seem white.” “Mr. Walker values his reputation. Your so-called past affection is worthless compared to my ratings.” I walked out of the TV station in a daze. The night wind was cold, making my bones ache. I thought this was rock bottom. As long as I could save Grandma, enduring some humiliation was nothing. At least I still had Grandma. But fate loves to torment the unfortunate.

Charlotte POV After that live broadcast, I became the despised wealthy madwoman of the entire internet. I didn’t dare look at my phone, didn’t even dare miss a single call from the hospital. I could only shut myself in my rental apartment in a daze. That villa where Ethan and I had lived for five years—I could never go back. It was now filled with Sophie’s presence. Even the lilies I’d planted were dug up and replaced with her favorite tulips. I thought hiding away would bring me peace. But I underestimated human malice and the madness of Sophie’s die-hard fans. In just one day, my address, phone number, and even the hospital room number where Grandma stayed were all dug up by Sophie’s fans. On the third morning, I was just preparing to cook and take food to the hospital. The moment I opened the door, a bucket of stinking red paint splashed toward me. Though I instinctively dodged, I was still splattered with quite a bit. Outside the door, several young girls wearing masks were frantically taking photos of me with their phones, cursing: “It’s her! That crazy woman who slandered Sophie!” “Looking so shabby, she dares to bully our goddess?” “Sisters, teach her a lesson and wake her up!” Flashlights went crazy, blinding me. Before I could explain, someone pushed me. I fell miserably onto the paint-covered ground, my knees hitting the cement floor. The pain was excruciating. But I couldn’t care about the pain. I desperately protected the thermos in my arms—the food I’d made for Grandma was still hot. “What are you doing? This is illegal!” I screamed. A mocking laugh came from the crowd: “Oh, you know about the law? Why didn’t you think about the law when you were slandering people online?” “We’re punishing you!” In the chaos, someone kicked over the thermos. I watched the mess on the ground, and tears finally couldn’t help falling. That was the last little thing I could do for Grandma, and they destroyed it. I struggled to get up, to rush out. The hospital hadn’t called me yet. I had to go check on Grandma. But this group of people surrounded me like an iron barrel, not leaving me any gap. Just as I was despairing, my phone suddenly rang. It was the emergency room at the hospital. The ringtone sounded weak yet piercing amid the noisy cursing. I frantically pushed away the person in front of me and answered with trembling hands. “Ms. Harper! Come quickly! The patient’s condition has deteriorated!” “Someone splashed paint in the hospital room. Your grandmother was frightened and is being resuscitated now!” In that instant, my world collapsed. Splashing paint in a hospital room? How dare they?! That was the ICU! A place that saves lives! I don’t know where I found the strength. I pushed away a girl blocking me and rushed out of the crowd desperately. Behind me came the girls’ screams and curses: “The crazy woman is hitting people! Call the police!” I couldn’t hear anymore. My mind was filled only with the doctor’s words. I frantically tried to hail a car on the roadside. But not a single car was willing to stop for a madwoman covered in red paint. In desperation, I dialed Ethan’s number. This was my last hope. He grew up under Grandma’s care. Grandma once sold her only jewelry to help him with tuition. He couldn’t ignore this. Even for old times’ sake, he absolutely wouldn’t stand by and watch someone die. Finally, the call connected. Just as I was about to cry out for help, a woman’s voice came through: “Ms. Harper?” “What bad timing. Ethan is taking a shower.” “You know, last night’s celebration was exhausting. He just went to sleep.” “Whatever it is, let’s talk tomorrow.” The call ended. I stood on the street holding my phone. Heavy rain poured down, washing away the paint on my body but unable to wash away the bone-deep cold in my heart.

Charlotte POV The rain kept falling. I begged a kind truck driver to take me to the hospital. But when I stumbled into the inpatient building, everything was already too late. Yellow police tape was pulled up at the elevator entrance. Several security guards stood around with serious expressions. I frantically tried to rush in but was held back firmly. “What are you doing? You can’t go in!” “Please, I’m a patient’s family member! My grandmother is being resuscitated! Let me in!” My face was covered in rainwater mixed with paint, my voice hoarse beyond recognition. The security guard frowned and was about to drive me away when a nurse happened to pass by and recognized me. She spoke a few words to the security guard in a low voice and pulled me through the staff passage. She looked at me with complex eyes—eyes filled with sympathy and pity. “Ms. Harper… there’s no need to go in.” She said softly. Those few short words were like a thunderbolt, shattering me completely. I stood frozen in place, opening my mouth but unable to make a sound. No need to go in… what did that mean? The nurse turned her head away, unable to bear looking at me: “Just now a group of people caused trouble outside the hospital room, throwing things and shining laser pointers at the patient’s eyes…” “Your grandmother already had a weak heart. She was frightened, and… and she kept calling your name. She couldn’t catch her breath.” “They tried to resuscitate her for half an hour but couldn’t save her.” I don’t know how I made it to the morgue entrance. That kind old woman who used to warm my hands in her armpits during winter now lay quietly on a cold metal bed. Covered with a white sheet. With trembling hands, I lifted a corner of the white sheet. Grandma’s eyes were still half-open, as if she died with unfinished business, or as if she was waiting for someone. “Grandma…” I knelt on the ground and pressed my face against her already cold hand. Tears burst forth but no sound came out. The caregiver who had been looking after Grandma walked over with red eyes and handed me a crumpled plastic bag. “Ms. Harper, this is what your grandmother was clutching tightly before she passed.” “She said… this is money for you, telling you not to wrong yourself.” I opened the bag with trembling hands. Inside was a stack of small bills and a credit card. The credit card had only thirty thousand dollars. That was what Grandma had saved penny by penny over these years through frugal living. She knew I wasn’t doing well at the Walker house, knew Ethan had changed. She wanted to leave me a way out. But I didn’t even see her one last time. I could even imagine her fear in the last moments of her life, surrounded by those cyber bullies. She was waiting for me. Waiting for the me she’d protected since childhood to save her. But I didn’t come. And the man she once loved was now holding the murderer who killed her, dreaming sweet dreams. I clutched that stack of bills still warm with body heat and sat on the cold morgue floor all night. The next morning, the rain stopped. I walked out of the hospital and looked at the rising sun. The sunlight was blinding, shining on me but without a trace of warmth. I took out my phone and looked at the dozens of missed calls, all from the hospital. Ethan’s chat box still stopped at last night’s message: “Sophie is timid. Don’t call and scare her.” I looked at that line of text and suddenly found it funny. Really funny. I laughed out loud, laughed until tears flowed, laughed until my stomach cramped. It was in that moment. A certain corner of my heart completely collapsed. The Charlotte who loved Ethan Walker died in last night’s rainy night.

Charlotte POV During the three days I handled Grandma’s funeral, I disappeared. There was no funeral service. I went to the crematorium alone and watched Grandma turn into a small box. Then I scattered her ashes in the river she loved most in life. After doing all this, I returned to that villa. I walked into the bedroom and started packing. My clothes, gifts Ethan gave me. Even our wedding photos—I threw everything into black garbage bags. Only keeping Grandma’s bankbook close to me. At eight in the evening, Ethan came back. He reeked of alcohol, obviously just coming from some party. Seeing me sitting in the empty living room, he paused, frowning: “Where have you been these past few days? Not answering calls either.” “Sophie said you called her that night? Didn’t I tell you she was preparing for interviews, not to disturb her?” He loosened his tie while complaining casually, his tone carrying a natural sense of reproach. I sat on the sofa, quietly watching him. Watching this face I’d loved for a full ten years. At this moment, it felt terrifyingly unfamiliar. “Ethan.” I spoke. “Let’s get divorced.” “I’ve already submitted the divorce registration. Whether you sign or not, it will go through the court process.” Ethan’s movements paused, then he laughed mockingly and threw his tie on the sofa. “This again? Charlotte, are you kidding me or what?” “Still making a fuss three days later over a stupid award? How long are you going to keep this up?” He obviously thought I was still angry about the live broadcast. I took out the divorce agreement I’d already printed from my bag and placed it on the coffee table. “I’ve already signed. I don’t have any demands regarding property division.” “As long as you sign, I’ll leave right now.” Ethan’s eyes finally turned cold. He picked up the agreement and glanced at it, as if he’d heard the funniest joke: “Leave with nothing? Charlotte, are you insane?” “Without me, where can you go?” He didn’t believe at all that I would really leave. In his eyes, without him, Ethan Walker, I, Charlotte Harper, was like a dodder vine without water—couldn’t survive three days. “That’s none of Mr. Walker’s concern.” I stood up, picked up my already packed suitcase, and walked straight toward the door. Ethan was enraged by my attitude. He strode over and grabbed my wrist, his grip so tight it felt like he wanted to crush my bones. “Charlotte! Stop right there!” “I’m giving you a way out and you’re taking it! Don’t be ungrateful!” “Next week Sophie and I are going to the Maldives. You come too. Consider it my apology. Will that work?” I looked down at my wrist, now red from his grip, and suddenly smiled. “Mr. Walker, your apology is too valuable. I can’t afford it.” “Also, let go.” “Otherwise, I’ll call the police right now and report you for marital rape.” Ethan looked at me in disbelief, as if seeing me for the first time. After a few seconds of standoff, he roughly let go of my hand, his face dark enough to drip water. “Fine, impressive.” “Walk out that door and don’t even think about coming back to beg me!” “I want to see just how long you can keep this up.” I didn’t look at him again. I pulled my suitcase and walked out the front door. Sitting in the taxi, I took out my backup phone and dialed a number. “Police?” “Regarding evidence that Walker Group is suspected of using shell companies to launder money for a certain foundation, I’ve compiled everything.” “I want to file a real-name report that Sophie incited fans to cyberbully someone to death.” “All the evidence is on that USB drive.”

Charlotte POV Early the next morning, I didn’t go to the police station. Because I knew that the moment I stepped through that door, Ethan would be notified. With his power and influence, there were ninety-nine ways I could disappear. So I went back to the villa. Ethan was sitting at the dining table eating breakfast. Seeing me return, a trace of expected mockery flashed in his eyes. “What, figured it out so quickly?” “I knew it. Without me, you can’t even afford breakfast.” He put down his coffee, his tone resuming that condescending sense of charity. I placed my suitcase in the entryway, changed into slippers, and even smiled at him: “I have figured it out, Mr. Walker.” “Yesterday I was impulsive. After all, we’re married—no need to make things too ugly.” Ethan raised an eyebrow, obviously satisfied with my sensibility. “Tear up that divorce agreement. Tonight Sophie has a gala. Come with me.” I nodded obediently, then walked into the kitchen and heated him a glass of milk as usual. Just when my back was turned to him, I crushed a sleeping pill and mixed it into the milk. Ethan drank it without suspicion. Half an hour later, he fell into a deep sleep on the study sofa. Using his fingerprint, I opened the safe that only he could access. Inside were not only Walker Group’s core secrets but also the original ledgers of Sophie’s money laundering through charity projects over the years, as well as Ethan’s stock market manipulation records done secretly to promote her. Once these things were exposed, they would be enough to bring down the entire Walker empire. I copied all the data onto a hard drive I’d prepared in advance. And set a timed send. The send time was set for the climax of Sophie’s party. After finishing all this, I restored everything to its original state and even thoughtfully covered Ethan with a blanket. Looking at his face that appeared cold even in sleep, I felt only deathly silence in my heart. At two in the afternoon, Ethan woke up. He rubbed his temples, only feeling that he’d slept unusually deeply, but didn’t think much of it. Seeing I was still home, he was in a good mood and casually tossed me a black card: “Go buy an outfit. Tonight’s gala is very important.” “Sophie is announcing her promotion to deputy director tonight. Remember to congratulate her.” He truly perfected humiliation. I took the card and responded meekly: “Okay, I’ll give her an unforgettable gift.” Ethan smiled, thinking I genuinely wanted to please Sophie. “Charlotte, as long as you’re sensible, the position of Mrs. Walker will always be yours.” With that, he got up to handle company matters. Watching his car leave the villa. I turned around, cut that black card in half, and threw it in the trash. Then, pulling my already prepared suitcase, I left without looking back. Afternoon. Terminal 3. I sat in a corner of the departure hall, watching planes take off and land through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The boarding announcement came through the speakers. My phone screen lit up. It was a video call from Ethan. I hesitated for a second, then answered anyway. I wanted one last look at him celebrating at hell’s gate. The video connected. The screen showed a magnificent ballroom. Ethan wore a perfectly tailored black suit, holding champagne, with Sophie in a red dress looking stunning on his arm. The background was full of flattering voices and camera flashes. “Charlotte, why aren’t you here yet?” Ethan frowned slightly. Even through the screen I could feel his displeasure. “Sophie’s speech is about to start. All the city’s media are here. As my ex-wife, your absence makes me look bad.” Sophie also leaned over and smiled fakely at the camera: “That’s right. Everyone’s waiting for you. Tonight is my highlight moment. It won’t be perfect without your blessing.” Looking at them, I felt like I was watching two clowns. “Ethan.” I spoke. “I’m not coming.” “But the big gift I prepared for you will arrive in ten minutes.” Ethan paused, then laughed mockingly. He obviously thought I meant an actual gift, even teasing somewhat: “Okay, looks like you really have learned to behave.” “As long as the gift is substantial enough, I’m not unwilling to forgive your previous tantrums.” “If you want to go out and clear your head, that’s fine too. When you figure things out and come back, the Walker family will still have a place for you.” Even now. He still thought my so-called leaving was just throwing a tantrum. Still thought I, Charlotte Harper, couldn’t leave him, Ethan Walker. “Ethan.” I called his name again. “Enjoy these last two minutes.” “Because after tonight, you’ll never have another chance to talk to me like this.” The smile on Ethan’s face froze. He seemed to finally sense something was wrong. “Charlotte, what do you mean?” “What are you doing?!” I didn’t answer again. I hung up directly. Then, in front of the security cameras, I pulled out my SIM card. With two fingers I snapped it in half. I casually threw both the phone and broken card into the nearby recycling bin. The announcement came through again: “The flight to London is about to depart. Passengers who have not yet boarded, please hurry…” I pulled my suitcase and turned toward the gate. On the big screen behind me, the live broadcast of Sophie’s party had just switched on.

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I’d been secretly married to Charlie for six years, and this was the eighteenth time he’d refused to take wedding photos with me, using his busy work schedule as an excuse. As I removed my makeup and changed out of my wedding dress, preparing to leave, I unexpectedly heard Charlie’s voice. “Bring out all the most beautiful wedding dresses in your shop today. I want to take the most beautiful wedding photos with my wife.” My heart leapt with joy, and I blushed. I never expected Charlie to say such romantic words. I pulled back the curtain of the dressing room, about to call out to him, when I heard the attendant’s flattering voice. “Mr. Charlie, rest assured. Your wife is as beautiful as a celebrity. She’ll definitely be the most gorgeous bride.” The smile froze on my face. The manager wasn’t complimenting me, but another woman Charlie had his arm around. At that moment, our eyes met. His gaze shifted away guiltily. Seeing me emerge, the manager turned to me. “Miss Jenny, your husband doesn’t have time today. Should I schedule your shoot for next week instead?” I shook my head. “No need.” A flash of embarrassment crossed the manager’s face. “But we don’t refund deposits. If next week doesn’t work, how about next month? That would be fine too.” “No need. He got into a car accident today and died. He won’t have time ever again.”

The manager’s face went pale. “How could this happen so suddenly? Didn’t he just say he was too busy with work to make it?” “Miss Jenny, given your special circumstances, I can apply to see if we can refund your deposit.” I shook my head, a dense, prickling pain spreading through my chest. Charlie and I had a secret marriage. No ceremony, no wedding banquet. Even our friends and family didn’t know. That’s why I was obsessed with taking wedding photos. In six years of secret marriage, he’d refused me eighteen times, claiming he was too busy with work. But now, he was here taking wedding photos with someone else. Seeing my silence, the manager assumed I was in shock from my husband’s death and carefully supported me. “Miss Jenny, are you alright?” I suppressed the sour feeling in my throat, my voice hoarse. “I’m fine. Keep the deposit.” With that, I walked step by step toward Charlie. He took a guilty step back. A mocking smile appeared at the corner of my mouth, then I turned and walked out the door. That evening, he came home with a bouquet of red roses, his face showing a rare hint of flattery. “Jenny, you did great today. Thank you. Eve is sensitive. If you’d made a scene, I don’t know how much she would have cried.” “Didn’t you want to vacation in Hawaii? Once I get through this busy period, I’ll take you there.” A tear slid down my cheek. The scene I’d dreamed of could be realized so easily. My husband coming home from work with flowers, gently promising to take me to Hawaii. I should have been happy, if I hadn’t discovered his affair. I didn’t answer his question. Instead, I asked, “Why her?” Eve. My stepsister. Back then, to force my mother to divorce, she and her mother had joined forces and driven my mother to her death. She was my mother’s killer. Charlie knew full well that I hated her most. He could have cheated with anyone, but choosing her hurt me the most. Tears fell like beans as my voice began to tremble. “You know I hate her most of all. What did I do wrong that you would treat me like this?” Hearing this, Charlie frowned, his tone impatient. “Jenny, that’s all in the past. You can’t blame Eve for your mother’s death. She was just a child then.” “If you want to blame someone, blame your mother for being too weak. She couldn’t handle it, so she killed herself.” My vision gradually blurred. I stared in shock at the man who had promised to protect me for life. I never imagined he could say such things.

A slap landed across his face. I knew we could never go back. “Let’s get divorced.” After being slapped, Charlie could no longer control his temper. He looked at me furiously. “Jenny, I’ve put up with you for a long time. Why are you so stubborn? Why can’t you just let the past go?” “Your mother has been dead for ten years. All these years, you’ve been making things difficult for everyone, making yourself miserable and dragging others down with you.” “Back then, your father stopped loving your mother long ago. If she’d agreed to divorce earlier, things wouldn’t have turned out that way.” “It was all caused by her personality. She got what she deserved. You can’t blame anyone.” Hearing him insult my mother again, I completely lost control. Like an enraged lion, I rushed at him, my fists flailing wildly against his body. “Shut up! Don’t you dare talk about my mother like that!” “It was that pair of shameless mother and daughter who drove my mother to death! They’re shameless! Shameless!” Smack! I was violently slapped and pushed to the ground. My forehead hit the coffee table, instantly breaking the skin. Liquid slid down from my forehead. Charlie was terrified. He rushed over worriedly to support me, regret flashing in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Jenny. I didn’t mean to. I was so angry I lost control.” “I’ll take you to the hospital right now. You’ll be fine. Don’t be scared.” Seeing him so worried about me, I felt momentarily dazed. It seemed like the man who put me first had never left. After my mother died, I lived a painful life at home. My father didn’t care about me. Eve and her mother constantly found ways to torment me. On rainy days, they’d kick me out of the house, or “accidentally” push me down the stairs. In that dark childhood, Charlie was my only light. For my sake, he’d rush into my house with a stick to confront Eve and her mother. Even when his father tied him up and beat him for it, he never made a sound. Thinking of how good he’d been to me, I suddenly wanted to give him a chance. My eyes pleaded. “Charlie, please don’t be with Eve, okay?” Charlie’s eyes flickered. He opened his mouth to speak when his phone rang. A familiar voice came through the receiver. “Charlie, my mom found out about us. She’s going to break my legs. Come save me, quick.” Then came a miserable scream, and the call disconnected. Charlie anxiously stood up, knocking me over again without even noticing. The worry in his eyes wounded me once more. I crawled on the floor and grabbed his pant leg. “Charlie, please don’t go.” Charlie pushed me away, his eyes full of conflicted panic. “Jenny, go to the hospital and get bandaged up yourself. Something happened to Eve. I have to go save her.” With that, he strode away without looking back. I laughed bitterly and collapsed to the floor, letting the blood from my head drip down drop by drop. Eve’s mother had stolen my mother’s husband. Now Eve was stealing mine. But I couldn’t be like my mother, ending up dead by suicide over a man. After a while, my phone received a friend request from an unfamiliar account. The profile picture showed Eve in a wedding dress kissing Charlie’s face. Both looked deeply affectionate. I wanted to see what she had to say, so I accepted. She said nothing, just sent me a video. In the footage, Charlie was kneeling on the ground, making promises to Eve’s mother. “I will never let Eve down. I’ll give her a grand wedding.”

“But I heard Jenny has been living in your villa all along. Aren’t you two already married? I won’t let my daughter be a mistress.” Facing Eve’s mother’s interrogation, Charlie raised his palm in oath. “Jenny and I have no relationship whatsoever. I only let her live at my place out of pity, to help me clean.” “If Eve doesn’t like it, I’ll make her move out immediately.” The video stopped abruptly. The wedding I’d begged for in vain, he could so easily give to someone else. Six years of secret marriage, only to be told we had no relationship at all. Charlie, you gave up on our relationship, so I don’t want you anymore either. I dialed a number. “I agree to what you asked.” The next day, Charlie brought breakfast, his expression the same as last night’s. “Jenny, I stood in line to buy you breakfast. Mango smoothie and a sandwich. Come eat.” I’m allergic to mangoes, and Eve’s favorite is mango smoothies. Later, when she found out about my allergy, she deliberately put mango in my food. I ate it without noticing, then started having an allergic reaction. My whole body broke out in rashes, and my throat swelled so I couldn’t breathe. Eve deliberately told Dad I’d eaten it out of greed. Dad was so angry he whipped me before finally sending me to the hospital. After Charlie and I got together, for my sake, he stopped eating mangoes too. There had never been a single mango in the house. Now he’d forgotten. I knocked the breakfast from his hands. Charlie suppressed his anger, looking at me impatiently. “Jenny, I already bought you breakfast as an apology. What more do you want from me?” My expression was emotionless. “I’m allergic to mangoes.” Only then did he react, a flash of guilt in his eyes. “I was in such a rush this morning, I forgot. How about this—tell me what you want to eat and I’ll go buy it.” “No need. You only need to remember what Eve likes to eat.” Seeing my sarcastic tone, his expression hardened again. “You don’t need to be so passive-aggressive. Look at everyone in our circle. Who the hell stays faithful to just one woman?” “I’ve been married to you for six years, and I’ve only had one other woman. You should be grateful.” I froze. I never imagined he could say something so shameless. Caught cheating, he felt no guilt. Instead, he acted like I should understand him. It was completely absurd. Did he think that just by giving me the title of wife, I should be grateful and tolerate his infidelity? Seeing my silence, he assumed I’d compromised. His attitude softened considerably. “Good girl. You’re a smart woman. You know what’s best for yourself.” “I already promised Eve’s mother yesterday that I’d give Eve a grand wedding. Otherwise, her mother will beat her to death. But don’t worry, you’re still my legitimate wife.” “I’ve already cleaned up the West Hill villa. It’s quiet there. While I’m preparing the wedding these next few days, move there. Don’t worry, I’ll visit you often.” He’d finally said it out loud. I looked straight at him. “No need. I—” I wanted to say divorce, but he impatiently interrupted me before I could finish. “Alright, who else can you depend on besides me? Stop being so stubborn.” “I’m going to be late for work. Move there yourself.” I shook my head and started packing my things, clearing away all traces of myself from this home. I took out my phone to order a pickup service for my old belongings, when a new message popped up.

It was a beautiful wedding photo. The two people in the photo were Charlie and Eve. I hurriedly pulled out my own marriage certificate to compare. I collapsed on the spot. Marriage certificates are supposed to have an official seal. Mine and Charlie’s didn’t. It was fake. That meant Charlie and I had never been married. His claim that I was his legitimate wife was also a joke. I laughed until tears came. I couldn’t believe the man who’d protected me since childhood had deceived me for six years. No wonder he refused to make our marriage public or take wedding photos with me. It was all fake. “Do you know why Charlie used a fake certificate to deceive you?” Eve had appeared behind me at some point. She looked at me triumphantly. “Because he thinks you’re not good enough. You’re an embarrassment. So he lied to you, kept you hidden away. He never took you to meet family or friends. When people asked, he just said he took you in out of pity to work as his housekeeper.” “Jenny, your mother couldn’t compete with my mother, and you can’t compete with me either.” She grabbed my collar, her eyes full of malice. “Didn’t you call my mother a mistress? Didn’t you hate mistresses most? Look at yourself now! You’re the mistress. You’re the mistress between Charlie and me!” I shoved her away, eyes bloodshot, shouting, “I’m not the mistress! I’m not! You’re the mistress! You’re the one who destroyed us!” Eve laughed triumphantly. “But now the marriage certificate has my name and Charlie’s. If you keep clinging to him, then you’re the mistress! The mistress!” “No, I’m not! No!” I rushed at her like a madwoman, grabbing her clothes and shouting, “I’m not! You’re lying!” But she didn’t struggle. A vicious smile appeared at the corner of her mouth. “Do you know how your mother really died? Let me tell you—your mother didn’t commit suicide!” I froze, stopping my movements, my whole body trembling. “What do you mean?” “My mother didn’t commit suicide?” She shook her head. “You’re just as stupid as your mother. That day, after I cursed at her, she did try to jump into the river to kill herself. But at the last moment, she regretted it. She said she couldn’t leave you behind, that she had to live for you. How could that be allowed? So I helped her along.” Eve made a pushing motion with her hands. “I just pushed her like this.” I staggered, unable to stay on my feet. “You pushed my mother? You killed her?” She nodded proudly. “Yes, I killed your mother. So what can you do about it?” I rushed at her like a madwoman. “I’m going to kill you to avenge my mother!” I exploded with tremendous strength, knocking her to the ground, pummeling and biting her wildly! Then I became more and more frenzied, eventually punching and kicking her like a beast that had lost all reason. “You killed my mother! Go to hell! Die!” But Eve suddenly flashed me a sinister smile. “You’re finished.” Then a great force struck me, and I was kicked to the ground. “Charlie, our baby! My stomach hurts so much. Quick, take me to the hospital.” Her lower body was covered in blood. She was pregnant. Charlie frantically picked up Eve and ordered the bodyguards behind him, “Lock Jenny up. I’ll deal with her when I get back.” After Charlie left, the bodyguards locked me up and directly set a fire. “Miss Jenny deliberately set a fire trying to escape, but ended up burning herself to death.” So this was Eve’s real goal—to burn me to death. The fire gradually grew. I struggled but couldn’t untie the ropes. I was choked by the smoke and gradually lost strength. A burning cabinet suddenly fell toward me. I closed my eyes in despair.

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At a gathering with friends, someone patted my wife Lara Blanchett on the shoulder and asked: “Lara, a beauty like you must have had a first love back in school, right?” Lara smiled and reached up to adjust my shirt collar. “No, I only love my husband.” As soon as the words left her mouth, Parker, her male best friend sitting beside her, suddenly laughed out loud. “First love? No.” “But she did have a fuck buddy.” He propped his chin on his hand and looked at me, blinking smugly. “Don’t be nervous, Mason. I’m talking about back then.” “Lara was like a nymphomaniac—she dragged me to all kinds of places for sex. Nearly wore me out.” Someone cursed in surprise, and laughter instantly exploded in the private room. Parker wasn’t satisfied yet. He slowly twisted the knife deeper: “Sorry about this, but I got to sleep with your wife before you did. Three hundred and sixty-five times, to be exact.” He raised his glass and smiled at me with curved lips: “Don’t take it personally, Mason. Just joking between guys. It’s all in the past.” “If we still had something going on, we wouldn’t pick the day you announce you’re having a baby to say it, right?”

The air froze for a moment. Finally, someone reacted first, raising their glass to smooth things over. “Well, everyone did foolish things when they were young.” “It’s all in the past. Don’t dredge up old accounts.” “Besides, Lara treats Mason so well now. No matter how busy she is at work, she comes home. He can use the card however he wants. She drives him everywhere. Now that she’s pregnant, she’s arranged everything at home perfectly.” Another person chimed in: “Exactly. A woman like Lara is already rare.” “Parker has a loose tongue and loves to joke. Don’t take it to heart.” The private room became lively again, laughter and clinking glasses mixing into a cacophony. As if that previous exchange had really just been a harmless joke. I smiled too, but my fingertips were growing colder bit by bit. They weren’t wrong. Lara treated me well—proper, thoughtful, flawless. She gave me a watch for our anniversary, called a doctor when I was sick, never missed giving me gifts or clothes. But when Lara had sex with me, she was always calm, like completing a task. Always the same rhythm, the same positions, the same silence. No kissing, no flirting, no eye contact. From start to finish, she barely made a sound. Even her breathing was as controlled as if she were in a meeting. After it was over, she’d get up to shower immediately, her retreating figure efficient, without even asking how it was. At first, I thought it was because she had a reserved personality. Later, I thought it was because I wasn’t good enough. I tried many times. Changed to shirts she might like, learned those clumsy, pleasing moves from videos, and on nights when she came home from working late, I’d hold her with a flushed face. But she’d only frown and remove my hands. “Stop it. I’m tired today.” “Behave yourself.” Once, I worked up the courage, sprayed on new cologne, and changed into the suit she’d once complimented. She didn’t even look. She just draped her coat over the sofa, her tone flat. “Don’t wear that anymore. It doesn’t suit you.” Doesn’t suit me. That night, I washed the hair gel out bit by bit alone in the bathroom, suddenly feeling like the person in the mirror was a ridiculous clown. And now, Parker leaned next to her, laughing as he talked about their wild times back then. Lara said “that’s enough,” but she didn’t deny a single word. I finally understood. She wasn’t naturally cold. She just gave her passion to someone else and saved propriety for me. “Honey?” Lara suddenly called me, handing over a glass of warm water. “You don’t look well. Don’t overthink it. He’s had too much to drink and is talking nonsense.” I took the glass, my fingertip pressing against the warmth of the cup. Warm. But it couldn’t warm my heart at all. I looked up at her and asked softly: “Lara, have you ever truly loved me?” Her expression froze. She was about to speak. But Parker beside her laughed first, slowly swirling his wine glass: “Mason, that question really hurts the mood.” “For women, isn’t it enough that she’s willing to give you status and bear your child?” “After all, Lara slept in my arms for so many years and never gave me status.” I looked at him and suddenly laughed too. “You’re right.” “Status really is enough.” Except from this moment on, I don’t want it anymore.

On the drive home, the car was so quiet only the sound of the windshield wipers remained. Lara gripped the steering wheel. After a long time, she finally spoke. “Don’t take what Parker said seriously.” “It was just youthful foolishness. He can’t keep his mouth shut.” She paused, as if soothing someone being unreasonable. “I married you now. The baby is ours. Isn’t that enough?” I looked at the neon lights retreating outside the window, my nails digging into my palm bit by bit. “So you think I should be grateful?” Lara frowned. “Your emotions are running too high tonight. Go home and rest first.” When we got home, she took off her coat and, as usual, poured water, washed her hands, checked her phone. Calm, as if the humiliation in that private room had never happened. I stood at the bedroom door, my throat tight. At that moment, I suddenly wanted to know— Did she have no feelings for me, or did she simply not want me? I bit my teeth, unbuttoned my collar, and walked toward her. My fingers trembled, but I still reached out to hold her. “Lara…” “Look at me.” Her body stiffened for a moment, then she pulled away. No desire, no attraction—only exhaustion and impatience. She picked up the coat beside her and draped it back over my shoulders, her tone cold: “Stop fooling around.” My eyes immediately reddened. “You’ve been pregnant for three months. The doctor said it’s safe during the stable period…” “I’m not fooling around. I just want to know if you still want me.” Lara looked at me, her expression sinking bit by bit. “Mason, are you really this desperate?” Those words hit like a slap across my face. I froze in place, even my breathing trembling. But she had already turned around, grabbed her car keys, and headed out. The door slammed shut. The entire house was left with only me and my wretchedness. I sat on the edge of the bed, tears falling onto the back of my hand one by one. Half an hour later, my phone lit up with a notification. Parker had posted on Instagram. The photo showed a woman’s wrist in the driver’s seat, wearing the bracelet I’d given Lara. The caption read just one line: 【Someone’s mad I said too much when I was drunk. But she still came over in the middle of the night.】 Below that, he added another line: 【Back when we were poor students, we tried every place except car sex in a luxury vehicle.】 【Looks like we’re unlocking a new location tonight.】 I stared at those two lines of text and suddenly laughed. So when she said don’t overthink it, She meant for me to stay home with dignity. While she went to his place to let her true feelings run wild. I wiped away my tears, opened the family group chat, and sent a message. “Dad, Mom, please arrange a lawyer for me.” “I don’t want the baby anymore. I’m getting divorced too.” As soon as I sent the message, my father’s call came through. His voice was cold as ice. “Finally figured it out?” “Your mother and I never approved of Lara.” “The Blanchett family is good, but she’s been spoiled since childhood. Plus she keeps that unclear relationship with Parker as her male best friend.” “A woman like that has too fickle a heart. She can’t sustain a stable marriage.” “We only stepped back because you liked her.” “Now that you’ve woken up, it’s not too late.” My mother took over the phone, her tone both heartbroken and decisive: “I’ll have someone pick you up first thing tomorrow morning.” “The divorce lawyer is already on their way.” “As for the baby in her belly, Mom knows you can’t bear to give it up.” “But once this child is born, you and Lara will be entangled for life.” “This kind of marriage—cutting it off early is the real blessing.”

The next morning, I was woken by the sound of the door unlocking. Lara walked in carrying a paper bag, her expression unusually gentle. “You’re awake? I bought you a small cake.” She pushed the box in front of me, her tone coaxing like talking to a child. “Isn’t this your favorite place?” I looked down. Mango mousse. My stomach immediately churned. I’m allergic to mangoes. In severe cases, I have trouble breathing. I stared at that piece of mango mousse, suddenly remembering many small, piercing moments. Parker can’t eat onions. She remembered. Every time before ordering, she’d say first: “No onions in his portion.” Parker gets stomachaches from iced Americanos. She remembered. On rainy days, she’d order him a hot latte in advance, with a note for less sugar. Parker’s flight lands at 1 AM. She remembered that too. I’d seen the reminders on her phone more than once. 【Parker lands at 01:20, temperature drop, remind him to bring a jacket.】 These reminders were accurate down to the minute. But the fact that I’m allergic to mangoes—after three years, she still forgot. Seeing my terrible expression, Lara’s movements paused, and a flash of embarrassment crossed her face. “I… grabbed the wrong one.” She quickly pulled another box from her bag, rushing to make amends. “Then look at this. I passed by the boutique today and got this for you.” “You said you liked this watch before.” The box opened to reveal a beautiful timepiece. It really was the one I’d admired for a long time. If it were before, I probably would have forgiven her with tears in my eyes. But now, I only felt exhausted. I pushed the box back flatly. “Just leave it there.” Lara frowned: “Still sulking?” I didn’t respond. I picked up my phone. As soon as the screen lit up, group messages popped up. The group was still that familiar “Original Crew.” Parker had posted a nine-grid photo set. Men’s shirts, women’s short skirts, black lace lingerie scattered all over the floor. The group instantly exploded. “Holy shit, who was Parker with last night?” “That’s some intense action!” “Details, details! How many rounds did you go?” Parker replied leisurely: “Seven or eight, at least.” “Nearly killed me.” “Some people act all refined normally, but when they get wild, they really know what they’re doing.” A bunch of smirking emojis followed below. Then he sent another line: “@Lara Did you get home?” “Does Mason like the watch you picked for him?” I stared at that line of text, my fingers growing colder bit by bit. So even the apology gift was chosen by Parker. Beside me, Lara’s phone vibrated almost simultaneously. She glanced down, her face changing instantly, and reached out to grab my phone. I pressed the screen dark first and looked up at her. “I haven’t even asked you yet. No need to rush to explain.” Lara’s movement froze mid-air, her throat bobbing. “Don’t jump to conclusions.” “What happened between Parker and me is long in the past.” “After the baby’s born, I’ll take you on a trip. You’ve always wanted to see the Northern Lights in Iceland, right?” “Besides, if I still had something with him, the baby would be gone by now. Would we have made it to today?” She reached out to hold my hand, but I gently avoided it. I looked at her and suddenly smiled. “Yes, you’re right.” Lara paused, thinking I’d been pacified, and her tone relaxed. “See? That’s better. Don’t always get stuck in your head.” “Parker just loves to run his mouth. He posts whatever without thinking. Don’t stoop to his level.” I nodded, my voice flat and waveless. “For me, it doesn’t matter anymore.” Lara frowned slightly, clearly taking this as me being petulant. She glanced at the time and grabbed her car keys. “Alright, stop being moody.” “I have something this afternoon. I’ll come back later and have dinner with you.” The moment the door closed, the room became quiet again. I looked at the mango mousse on the table, slowly picked up my phone, and sent the lawyer a message: “We can proceed with the process now.”

At 3 PM, I sat in the hospital consultation room. The sunlight outside the window was blinding. The doctor finished reviewing the materials, looked up at me, and spoke in a calm tone: “Mr. Mason, terminating a pregnancy requires confirmation from the pregnant woman herself.” “As her husband, you can accompany her and sign some of the documents, but you cannot make the decision for her.” I nodded. Actually, before I came, I already knew. It was Lara’s body. Even if I hated her, even if I no longer wanted this child, I shouldn’t be the one to put her on the operating table. But I still came. Because I needed to hear a clear statement with my own ears before I could extinguish the last bit of hope in my heart. The doctor pushed the form back, his voice softening somewhat: “If you’re just having marital problems, I suggest resolving the relationship first.” “Children shouldn’t be used as bargaining chips.” I lowered my eyes, my fingertips gripping tighter bit by bit. I wasn’t being petulant. I finally understood that once this child was born, Lara and I could never cut ties cleanly. My phone vibrated once on the table. The screen lit up with a message from Lara: “Honey, I just picked out a baby stroller.” “It’s made so beautifully. He’ll definitely love it.” I stared at those two lines of text, my vision blurring. I suddenly remembered the day we found out about the pregnancy. When the test results were handed to me, Lara froze first, then tears filled her eyes the next second. She hugged me, laughing in the living room like a child. “I’m going to be a mom?” “Mason, I’m going to be a mom!” That night she leaned on my shoulder and talked about so much. Said the nursery should be painted light blue, or light yellow would be good too. Said I should choose the name. Said no matter how busy she was, she’d come home on time to be with me and the child. Back then, I really believed her. I thought this child would warm up the cold places between us again. But now, the same person was sending me baby stroller photos while leaving ambiguous traces in Parker’s social media during the night. Sincerity and betrayal could actually exist on the same face. I pressed the phone screen dark and said quietly to the doctor: “Thank you.” “I understand.” When I came out of the hospital, the lawyer was already waiting for me at the entrance. He handed over the drafted agreement. “Mr. Mason, the agreement states that if Ms. Lara insists on having the child, subsequent custody, visitation rights, child support, and property division can all enter separate clauses.” “However, whether to terminate the pregnancy cannot be unilaterally decided by you under the law.” I took the documents. The pages were light but felt like they weighed a thousand pounds. “Then let’s divorce first.” “The child’s matter will follow legal procedures.” The lawyer nodded. “Understood.” When I got home that evening, I’d just pushed open the door when I heard familiar laughter in the living room. Parker sat on the sofa while Lara poured him hot water. Seeing me, he immediately stood up, his eyes reddening, his tone sickeningly soft. “Mason, you’re back.” “I drank too much last night and talked nonsense. Please don’t take it to heart.” He walked forward two steps, as if sincerely apologizing. “Lara and I have just been fooling around since we were kids. I can’t keep my mouth shut.” “She’s pregnant now, and you’re emotionally sensitive. I understand.” “I’ll be more careful about boundaries from now on and won’t let you misunderstand again.” The words were apologetic, but the knife was hidden in every syllable. As if all of this was just me, the husband, making a mountain out of a molehill. Lara also spoke up, her tone certain: “I already said it was a misunderstanding.” “From now on, let’s live our lives well and raise the child properly. That’s more important than anything.” “You’re about to be a father. Stop overthinking and getting jealous all the time.” I leaned against the doorway, pale-faced, feeling exhausted even lifting my hand. Parker saw the hospital documents in my hand and exclaimed with fake surprise: “Mason, why do you look so terrible? You didn’t go to the hospital for random tests and scare yourself, did you?” “Men shouldn’t be so sensitive.” “Lara still has a baby in her belly. Don’t use the child as leverage in a fight.” I slowly raised my hand and waved it lightly. “Stop acting.” The living room fell silent. I looked at Lara and spoke word by word: “I don’t want this child anymore.” Lara’s expression instantly froze. “What did you say?” Before I could answer, the lawyer behind me stepped forward and handed over documents. The pages opened. Black text, clear and piercing. “Divorce Agreement.” The lawyer’s tone was steady: “Ms. Lara, this is the divorce agreement drafted by Mr. Mason. Please review it.” “Regarding the child, the agreement clearly states: if you insist on giving birth, Mr. Mason will fulfill his legal obligations.” “But this marriage—he has decided to terminate it.”

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The Blackwood Ridge massacre of 1995 shook the entire state. Three escaped convicts brutally murdered a forest ranger and his entire family—nine souls in total. Only the nine-year-old youngest daughter survived. When she was attacked, she fell beneath the open planks of the staircase, barely escaping with her life. But she was left permanently crippled, trapped in a lifetime of agony and suffocating regret. I am that youngest daughter. And I have just been reborn. Right back to ten minutes before the slaughter begins. 1 July 27, 1995. 10:00 AM. This exact date and time are burned into my soul. After turning nine, my life in the previous timeline was confined to a wheelchair. No family left. Only endless terror and whispers of what-ifs. Why did I open the door for them? Deep down, I knew that even if I hadn’t opened it, they would have broken in anyway. But a part of me always clung to that desperate, foolish illusion. Now, I am back. In exactly ten minutes, they will knock on our door. 2 I looked back into the cabin. My elderly grandparents were sitting in the corner, braiding heavy jute rope. The rope wouldn’t fetch much at the local market; they just couldn’t bear to let their hands sit idle. Dad hadn’t gone out to patrol the ridges today. It was a rare treat to have him home, mostly because Mom was away visiting her sister in the next county. My second older brother, Tommy, had wrecked his dirt bike and busted his leg, so he was home recovering. His wife, Jessica, was holding their two-year-old daughter, Lily, complaining endlessly about his recklessness. Her belly was noticeably round—in a month, my second nephew would be born. In just a few days, Mom was supposed to come back and take her to the county hospital to wait for the delivery. My oldest brother, David, worked a corporate job in the city. He had sent his two kids back to the mountains for summer vacation. The boy was twelve. His name was Ethan. True to his name, he was already five feet tall and built like a truck. Right now, he was outside helping Dad split firewood. The girl, Grace, was two years older than me. A bit spoiled. In those days, in the deep backcountry, it wasn’t weird for a niece or nephew to be older than their aunt. Terrified of the sun, Grace had pitched a large patio umbrella on the second-floor deck, curled up underneath it reading comic books. “Hey, looks like someone’s coming!” her sharp voice rang out. In my past life, she was the first to spot them too. But everyone in the yard ignored it. Blackwood Ridge was isolated and rugged. The only people who ever stumbled up here were lost hikers. Mountain folks are hospitable. We would always cook them a hearty meal, and then Dad would guide them back to the main highway. It was no different this time. Ten minutes later, they knocked. I had eagerly run to open the door, letting them in. Dad welcomed them warmly. Grandpa stoked the woodstove. Grandma started slicing our home-cured ham. Jessica handed baby Lily to Tommy and helped wash the vegetables. Grace was dragged down to help, rolling her eyes with every step. Tommy even chatted with one of them about his dirt bike injury. Dad went down to the root cellar to fetch a jar of blackberry moonshine he’d buried the previous winter. It was a joyful feast. But just as Dad asked whether they wanted to stay the night or head out while the sun was still up, the atmosphere shattered. One of the men reached out and grabbed Jessica. 3 It all happened so fast. I was upstairs on the second floor, trying to put baby Lily down for a nap. She was fussy and restless, which made me anxious. Suddenly, a strange sound echoed from downstairs. Short, sharp, instantly cut off. Then, a blood-curdling shriek. I flew to the window. The yard had turned into a living hell. Dad was slumped over the wooden table, blood jetting from his throat. Grandpa and Grandma were on the floor, one face down, one face up, their necks nearly severed. Ethan had been struck with his own wood-splitting axe, his skull split open, his body still twitching on the dirt. Those three men—one was overpowering Tommy, one was pinned on top of Jessica, and the third was dragging Grace toward the door. I shoved my fist into my mouth and bit down hard. It wasn’t a nightmare. It was real. Right then, Lily burst into a loud, frantic cry. The man dealing with Tommy finished his grim work, snapped his head up, and glared at me with cold, dead eyes. I spun around, scooped up Lily, and ran. The stairs leading from the second floor to the third were made of open-backed wooden planks. I tripped. The man bounded up the steps, closing the distance in seconds. He ripped Lily from my arms and threw her violently over the railing. Her crying stopped instantly. Driven mad, I lunged forward and bit his arm with everything I had. He roared in pain and hacked down on me twice with his blade. My body went limp. I felt my life force rushing out of me. The wooden stairs became slick and red. My small, frail body slipped right through the open gap between the steps. The man reached down to grab me, but I was out of reach. Seeing that I was bleeding out and surely a goner, he turned and walked back downstairs. The horrors that followed were things I only learned from police reports after I was rescued. They stayed in our cabin for three days and three nights. Jessica was murdered, her unborn baby brutally carved from her womb. Grace didn’t have a single inch of unmarred skin left. She was tortured to death. Mom suffered the cruelest fate. She returned on the third day, walking right into the house, only to have her throat slit the moment she stepped through the door. 4 Under the bright morning sun, my body broke into a violent chill. I shook so hard I couldn’t form words. The memories brought an agonizing, soul-crushing pain, but now was not the time for tears. I had been reborn. I would not let this tragedy happen again. I slammed the heavy yard gate shut, throwing the iron bolt into place. Then I dashed into the house, grabbed the old wall-mounted landline, and dialed the local automated ringback code followed by our home number. The moment I slammed the receiver down, the phone began to ring. In the past, I used this trick all the time to prank Dad. I picked it up, pretended to talk to someone for a few seconds, and then sprinted back to the living room. “Dad! Quick, get everyone inside! The Ranger Headquarters just called—they said three armed killers escaped into the mountains, and they’re heading right for us!” This was the only way to make them listen. If a nine-year-old girl tried to explain reincarnation, no one would believe me. I would waste the precious ten minutes just trying to explain the impossible. Hearing that armed killers were loose in the mountains, Dad instantly went on high alert. Something like this had actually happened a few years back. Tommy didn’t take it seriously, laughing it off. “Three of ’em? I’ll bash their skulls in with my crutch!” “Get inside, you idiot. You talk too much,” Jessica snapped. Knowing he was in the wrong—since the family had forbidden him from riding that dirt bike in the first place—Tommy didn’t dare argue. He meekly followed her inside. Grandpa and Grandma were hard of hearing. Sensing that explaining would take too long, Dad and Ethan grabbed them by their arms and practically carried them into the house, telling them a massive storm was rolling in. Grandpa looked up at the crystal-clear sky, muttering under his breath, refusing to move. Dad was incredibly strong. He physically hoisted Grandpa and his heavy bundle of rope right through the doorway. With a sharp whistle from Dad, two large golden hounds bounded over the low wall, tails wagging as they rushed into the house. One was still missing, probably wandered too far off, and there was no time to search for him now. Mountain dogs were free-roaming creatures; they’d run wild and sometimes disappear into the woods for two or three days. In my past life, they came back too late. They found their family slaughtered, went completely feral with rage, bit two of the killers, but were ultimately hacked to death. Yet, it was because of their attack that the three men were slowed down enough to be captured by the state police. Seeing that all the people and dogs were inside, I rushed over, closed the heavy oak door, and threw the deadbolt. Dad held the landline receiver, his brow furrowed deep as he looked at me. The line was dead. Absolutely no signal. I remembered the case files from my previous life. By this time, they had already cut the external telephone wires. “Did they cut the lines?” I prompted, keeping my voice urgent. Having been a forest ranger for so many years, Dad didn’t deal with humans often, but he dealt with dangerous beasts daily. He possessed a sharp survival instinct. He looked at Tommy decisively. “Go put up the heavy window shutters. Now.” By then, Grace realized something was wrong. She hurried down from the second floor, staring at us blankly. “Let’s go lock the upstairs windows,” I told her. Grace dragged her feet, reluctant as usual, but I squeezed past her and ran up the stairs. With Dad downstairs, the first floor would be tightly secured. I wasn’t worried about that. 4 This house was built of heavy stone. Originally, it had only been a single-story cabin. But as Dad’s generation expanded the family, he added two more floors on top. Our family had been forest rangers since Grandpa’s time. The legacy was supposed to pass to my oldest brother, David, but he worked hard, went to college, and flew out of the mountains. He was never going to come back to this wilderness. Tommy had also talked about finding a job in the city, refusing to be cooped up in a mountain valley. Dad had rushed to marry Jessica into the family just to anchor him down. Back when Grandpa was a ranger, the forests were dense, teeming with all kinds of predators. Grizzly bears would bang on the doors in the dead of night. Therefore, the doors and windows on the first floor were heavily reinforced. With the six solid wooden shutters locked down, it became a veritable fortress. I had zero worries about the ground floor. The second floor, however, was a different story. It was built haphazardly. By Dad’s time, logging had cleared much of the forest, and wild animals dwindled. You could barely spot a timber wolf, let alone a grizzly. The second floor also had stone walls, but it featured four large glass windows—two facing south, two facing north. Though they were old-fashioned double-hung wooden windows, smashing through the glass would be effortless. Worse, they lacked heavy shutters. This was the weakest link in the entire house. The third floor was just an attic for storage. It had no windows, only a small hatch leading to the roof, which we used for drying wild mushrooms and harvested herbs. Jessica and Grace had already closed the four windows. Out of sheer anxiety, Jessica’s face was flushed, and she kept saying her heart was hammering against her ribs. I quickly guided her to a chair. This was no joke; shocking a heavily pregnant woman could trigger an emergency. “Are we safe now? I’m going back to my book,” Grace said testily. Her words jolted me. I looked in her direction, and my heart dropped. I screamed, “Oh no!” 5 Grace was standing right in the middle of the second floor, where a recessed open-air balcony sat, originally built for hanging laundry in the winter. There was supposed to be a heavy door separating the balcony from the interior rooms, but the hinges had snapped. Dad had taken the door down to repair it and hadn’t reinstalled it yet. Wasn’t this giving them a direct highway inside? My gaze darted to the wooden extension ladder resting against the outside wall in the courtyard. A wave of despair washed over me. Even without their brute strength to climb up, the ladder was practically set up for them! Who else could we blame? “Dad! Ethan! Get up here, now!” I roared. Dad and Ethan came bounding up the stairs. “Quick, we need to block this opening!” By now, my expression was grim and deadly serious, entirely uncharacteristic of a nine-year-old girl. Dad looked startled. He was a simple, honest woodsman, never one to make big decisions. He was used to being ordered around by Mom. Being yelled at by his little daughter left him dazed, and he instinctively followed my orders. There was a massive, old-fashioned solid oak wardrobe in the hallway, incredibly heavy. I called Dad and Ethan over to push it. The three of us exerted every ounce of strength we had, but the wardrobe barely budged an inch. “Sweetie, let’s… let’s try something else…” Dad gasped, wiping sweat from his brow as he straightened his back. Bam! Bam! Bam! The front door rattled violently under a heavy knock. “They’re here! Hurry!” I leaped toward the wardrobe, tearing open the doors and hurling the heavy winter coats and blankets onto the floor. Lightened, the wardrobe scraped loudly across the floorboards, leaving deep grooves as we forced it to block the gap. The knocking grew deafening. Just as the wardrobe was about to shut out the final sliver of light from the balcony, I saw Grandma, waddling on her small feet, hurrying toward the front door downstairs. She muttered, “Where did everyone go? Why isn’t anyone answering the door?” 6 My brain felt like it was about to explode. I flew down the stairs with lightning speed. Just as Grandma’s hand touched the deadbolt, I threw my arms around her waist and dragged her back with everything I had. Though Ethan didn’t fully comprehend what was happening, he realized one thing: listening to me was the only way to survive. He rushed over to help pull her away. Fortunately, the knocking outside was so loud it drowned out our frantic scuffling in the entryway. The moment we dragged Grandma into the inner living room and locked the connecting door, a heavy thud echoed from the courtyard. Someone had jumped over the perimeter fence. Our two golden hounds stood up instantly, low, menacing growls vibrating in their throats. Dad’s eyes turned lethal. Compared to human strangers, he trusted his dogs. The hounds knew exactly who was good and who was evil. He raised a hand, signaling everyone to be silent. The dogs obediently shut their mouths. “You’re useless!” I mouthed fiercely at Tommy, blaming him for not guarding the door and letting Grandma wander out. Tommy was terrified out of his wits and didn’t dare talk back. Afraid that Grandma and Grandpa might cause another accident, I directed Dad and Ethan to drag the heavy oak dining table over to barricade the front door. The table was made of a solid slab of timber, nearly four inches thick. Since the front door opened inward, it would be impossible for them to break through. The first-floor windows were completely secure. I told Ethan and Tommy to keep a strict eye on Grandparents, then I followed Dad back up to the second floor. Grace was scared to death now, clutching baby Lily tightly as she sat beside Jessica, not daring to breathe loudly. “Anyone home?” a man’s voice boomed from the courtyard. “We’re just passing through! Looking to get some water!” 7 Dad and I crouched beneath the second-floor window sill, peering down into the yard. Three men had entered the enclosure. They wore matching navy-blue utility jumpsuits. Stenciled across the backs in large bold letters was: PACIFIC POWER. Dad frowned, looking at me with deep suspicion. There was a wind farm on the adjacent ridge, and utility workers often came up for maintenance. Could they have just taken a wrong turn? “Dad, I really got that call. They are killers,” I whispered urgently. “But aren’t they from the electric company? Could the station have made a mistake?” Dad muttered, still hesitant. “Is anybody there? Just need some water!” the man shouted again. We held our breath, watching their every move. Seeing no response after a few shouts, the men sat down on our porch steps and took off their hard hats. One was tall and gangly, one was short and stocky, and the third wore wire-rimmed glasses. They looked exactly like ordinary blue-collar workers. It was impossible to connect them to vicious murderers. Dad’s brow furrowed even deeper. “Hey Marcus, looks like nobody’s home. Maybe we should hit the trail,” the tall one said. The short, stocky man—Marcus—ignored him. He walked over to our chicken coop, bending down to peer inside. “Clint, bring the bag over here. There are fresh eggs. Take them.” Marcus reached in and pulled out a handful of eggs, covered in feathers and dirt. Clint, the man with glasses, brought a canvas sack over, a look of pure disgust on his face. He clearly didn’t look like a country boy. “Hey, there’s smoked ham and dried corn hanging under the eaves. Should we grab ’em?” The tall, thin man stood on his tiptoes, reaching up. “Garrett, find another sack. We’re heading deep into the wilderness; we need to hoard all the food we can.” The tall one was Garrett. In truth, I knew exactly who they were. Twenty years later, when the case files were unsealed in my previous life, their names and faces had been branded into my very bones. Marcus Vance had served five years for violent assault. In prison, he met Garrett Boyd, who was doing time for attempted armed robbery. Clint Brady was Garrett’s brother-in-law. Not long after Marcus was paroled, Garrett invited him to a bar, where they got into a brutal brawl. They severely injured two people and killed another before fleeing into these mountains. Seeing them steal our food, Dad finally started to believe me. These were definitely not honest workers. I prayed silently, Just take the food and leave! Go deep into the woods and never come back! As if answering my prayers, they stuffed their sacks full of our provisions, opened the main gate, and strolled out arrogantly. I let out a long breath, my legs turning to jelly as I collapsed onto the floor. “Aunt Chloe, look!” Grace cried out, her voice trembling. I spun around, and my heart stopped.

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1 On Valentine’s Day afternoon, the dorm room was pure chaos. Everyone was doing their makeup, trying on outfits, and getting ready for their dates. I was the only one sitting on my bed, clutching a half-eaten bag of chips, opening my iPad to catch up on Netflix. Avery changed into her millionth outfit, still unsatisfied, and drifted over to my closet. “Harper, this dress of yours is so gorgeous.” It was a plum-red, form-fitting slip dress with lines that subtly teased the imagination. I had specifically picked it out a month ago when Weston and I agreed to get dinner tonight. Avery looked at me. “Did no one ask you out tonight?” When I didn’t answer, the corner of her mouth curled up. She dropped a specific name: “Did Weston leave you on read again?” The moment she said his name, everyone else in the dorm looked over in unison. Weston Sterling was always the center of attention. He was drop-dead gorgeous, top of his pre-med class, and treated life like a game he was playing on easy mode. Romance was the same. Growing up constantly worshipped, he never lacked beautiful, proactive girls throwing themselves at him. And me? I was just the neighbor who happened to attend the same schools as him from elementary school all the way to college. I held the script of the “childhood friend next door,” but that was exactly where the story stalled. I pulled out my phone. His pinned conversation at the top of my messages had no red notification dot. If I didn’t text him, he would never initiate contact. By 9:30 PM, I had finished my show, and I was the only one left in the dorm. Avery had accidentally smeared a little foundation on the cuff of the plum-red dress. I knelt down, trying carefully to wipe it off. It wouldn’t come off. What’s the point anyway? Right as the thought crossed my mind, my phone buzzed. It was an unsaved number, but I recognized the digits instantly. I never saved him to my contacts because I didn’t want to admit how much I cared. But in reality, I had his number memorized by heart. “Hello?” I unconsciously picked at a stray thread on a hanger, trying to distract myself. He chuckled softly. It was like he could hear the suppressed grievance in my voice and was trying to coax me. “Wanna come out and hang?” The upward lilt at the end of his sentence was incredibly magnetic. It was his signature lazy charm. So he did remember. “It’s 9:30,” I said. “And?” he asked. “Is this how you always ask me out? At the absolute last minute? Weston, that’s really rude.” I forced a joking tone. “Did someone else cancel on you, so you’re calling me?” I tried to sound breezy, but my heart was pounding, desperate for his reaction. But no response came. The line was dead silent. I thought my Wi-Fi had dropped and was about to switch to cellular data when I realized he had simply hung up on me. In our iMessage thread, underneath the massive blocks of green texts I had sent him previously, he had just sent two new lines. Weston: […] Weston: [Whatever. Don’t force yourself.] Muscle memory took over. I instantly started typing, I was just joking, trying to explain myself. But my thumbs hovered over his two short, callous sentences. I had waited for him all night, and he hung up on me without a second thought. I deleted the draft. Instead, I typed: [Are you mad?] Send. He replied instantly: [Can’t you tell?] This was him demanding that I lower my head and grovel. Just like always. I replied instantly too: [Stay mad, then.] Then, I blocked his number. I turned around and opened Quizlet. Hah, men? I was going to memorize a hundred vocab flashcards tonight. Two hours later, right as I was finishing my deck, I got a call from Weston. “Are you hungry?” “No,” I said coldly. “Come downstairs. I brought you late-night food.” I poked my head out the window. Sure enough, his black SUV was parked in front of the dorm building. He was wearing a sharply tailored overcoat that made his complexion look even paler in the cold. He was leaning lazily against the car door, looking up at my exact window with a practiced smirk. He raised a hot bag of seafood chowder in the air. It was the exact same soup I had bought for him when he was running a high fever a while ago. As I walked down the stairs, two girls from my hall passed by me. “Wait, isn’t that Weston from the pre-med track?” “Who?” “The incredibly hot guy out front. I’ve seen TikToks of him around campus.” I pushed open the heavy dorm doors and reached out to take the bag of chowder. He pinched the top of the bag. It wouldn’t budge. “Give me your phone,” he said, holding his other hand out. “No.” I let go of the bag and turned to walk back inside. He caught my arm with one hand, and before I could react, he slipped his other hand into my pocket and pulled out my phone. I reached up to snatch it back. “What are you doing? You don’t even know my pass—” Before I could finish, the screen unlocked. “Is there anything about you I don’t know?” His smile deepened. He steadied me with one arm, tapped the screen a few times, and unblocked himself from my settings. Because he was pinned, he was easy to find. Because my passcode was his birthday, it was easy to guess. He knew absolutely everything. “Here. Eat up and go to sleep.” He placed the warm bag in my arms. “I feel like a pig farmer.” I looked up, meeting his eyes. “Weston…” “Weston.” Two voices spoke at the exact same time. I looked past him and saw someone sitting in the passenger seat of his SUV. Avery opened the car door, her cheeks slightly flushed. “Did I fall asleep? Why didn’t you wake me up?” Weston let go of my arm and smiled at her. “You looked like you were sleeping deeply. I figured I’d let you rest.” “My sorority went to an escape room today, and surprisingly, Weston was there too.” Avery walked over and looped her arm through mine. “He was just dropping me off on his way back.” She pointed at the chowder in my hands, her tone playfully coy. “It’s all because that seafood chowder was too good. I got a food coma on the ride back.” So he took Avery out to eat, and just grabbed this for me as an afterthought? “Avery’s stomach was acting up, so I took her to get some food,” he explained, noticing my gaze. “Yeah.” I forced a smile. “Thanks. I’m going back upstairs.” “Harper, wait a sec.” Avery gripped my elbow tightly, stopping me from leaving. Instead of looking at me, she turned to Weston. “Can I get your Snapchat or number? I need to Venmo you for tonight.” I followed her gaze and looked at Weston. The plastic handles of the takeout bag were digging red indents into my fingers. He gave a nonchalant smile and said, “Sure.” But right before he said it, he looked directly at me. Avery finally let go of my arm to add him on her phone. Suddenly, I felt an overwhelming sense of relief. “You guys take your time chatting,” I said. Then, I walked upstairs without looking back. 2 Avery pulled back my bed curtain. “Harper, you don’t mind, right?” “Then again, it’s not like you’re his girlfriend anyway.” She was right. I had no right to mind. “Do you like Weston?” I asked bluntly. “Oh.” Her eyes darted away. “Not really. We were just heading the same way tonight.” “Why aren’t you eating the chowder?” She pointed at the soup I had abandoned on my desk, sounding slightly offended. “We bought that specifically for you, you know.” “I’m not hungry.” I tried to pull my curtain shut, but she held onto it. “Harper, did you know Weston has a group chat with his frat brothers?” My hand froze. I didn’t know. “Mason is in that chat too.” Avery shoved her phone screen in my face. “He sent me these screenshots a few days ago.” I recognized Weston’s profile picture instantly. During the week he had a high fever, I skipped classes to take care of him. Once he recovered, I ended up catching a terrible flu. My bones ached so badly I couldn’t get out of bed. I texted him, begging him to drop off some soup for me. He never replied to me. Instead, he forwarded my barrage of texts to his group chat. The screenshot was entirely filled with my desperate messages to him. Weston: [Look at this simp.] Weston: [Even if she isn’t annoyed, I’m getting sick of it.] Weston: [Does she seriously think she’s my girlfriend?] The group chat erupted in mockery. Mason: [Lol, which number is this one this week?] AntiSimpBro: [This girl is trying way too hard.] AntiSimpBro: [You two clearly don’t match.] AntiSimpBro: [Does she seriously not realize she’s entirely out of your league?] AntiSimpBro: [Trying to guilt-trip you just because you’ve known each other a long time. Anyone got a picture? Let me see what she looks like.] Mason immediately sent a blurry photo. You could barely make out my features. AntiSimpBro: [Not bad, but she looks like a manipulator.] AntiSimpBro: [I wouldn’t touch her if you paid me.] Weston: [@Mason, where did you even get a picture of her?] Mason: [From a club event, I think. Forgot.] Weston: [Unsend it.] Mason: [The unsend window passed. Are you actually bothered?] The screenshots ended there. “It really seems like he doesn’t like you, Harper.” Avery pulled her phone back. “Take my advice: it’s better to have some self-awareness.” I looked at her. “Who is ‘AntiSimpBro’?” My sudden shift in focus caught her off guard. “Oh, him. That’s Weston’s roommate—Asher Reed.” “Do you have his contact?” “Yeah.” She hesitated. “Why do you want his contact?” Midnight. Someone occasionally tossed and turned in the dorm. I opened my phone, changed my lock screen password, and unpinned Weston from my messages. I added Asher on Snapchat. AntiSimpBro: [Who are you?] Me: [Harper.] AntiSimpBro: [?] AntiSimpBro: [Why did you add me?] AntiSimpBro: [If this is about Weston, forget it.] AntiSimpBro: [I’m not helping you.] Me: [It’s not.] AntiSimpBro: [Then what? I’m deleting you.] Me: [Asher, has anyone ever told you that you’re incredibly special?] AntiSimpBro: [No.] Me: [In my eyes, you’re different from everyone else.] AntiSimpBro: [Look, lady, what do you actually want? Spit it out.] Me: [For years, my only goal in getting close to Weston was actually for one specific reason.] AntiSimpBro: [Because you’re obsessed with him?] Me: [To sleep with you.] The other side completely died. It was like his brain short-circuited for five solid minutes. The screen jumped back and forth between “Typing…” and silence. Right as I was about to fall asleep, my phone vibrated. Weston had sent an iMessage. [Sign my name for the 8 AM elective. Room 801.] He was so used to ordering me around. Like he was absolutely certain I would love him forever. 3 For our 8 AM elective, Avery and I were in the same class. To be precise, she only signed up for it because Weston was taking it. When I registered for the course, she hovered over my laptop, watching me closely. “Harper, were you actually texting Asher last night?” She looked me up and down. “It’s a shame he never posts selfies. I don’t even know what he looks like. But guys who never post pictures are usually pretty ugly. He probably looks like that.” She pointed randomly at a nerdy guy in the corner, then turned to me with a smirk. “Actually, you two would be a great match.” Right as Avery finished her sentence, a deep male voice spoke next to me. “Excuse me, can you scoot in?” Avery rolled her eyes, annoyed, but when she looked up and saw his face, her eyes lit up. He had an incredibly intimidating, towering presence, with sharp, deep-set eyes that practically radiated a do not approach aura. Even though there were plenty of empty seats, Avery immediately cleared space for him. Leaning across me, she tried to strike up a conversation. “Hey, are you taking this class too?” “Yeah.” He answered coldly, completely ignoring her. Instead, his eyes lingered on my face for an extra second. “What’s your name?” Avery asked sweetly. “The ugly one you were just talking about,” he said flatly. “Asher.” Avery’s jaw dropped. She quickly gathered her things and practically sprinted a few rows to the front, desperate to escape the blast zone. “Nice to finally meet you, Harper.” Asher pulled out his textbook and slammed it onto the narrow desk, right up against my notebook. He raised an eyebrow, looking ready for a fight. “What was it you said you wanted to do to me last night?” I smiled politely, slid my notebook away, and maintained my distance. He mimicked my smile mockingly. “I knew you were just using me to get a reaction out of Weston.” “Absolutely not.” I denied it three times in a row. A look of contempt crossed his face. “You really think you’re worthy?” “Weston is never going to fall for a girl whose entire personality is desperately chasing boys.” “Furthermore, I’m a man of principles.” His sharp jawline tensed, his tone absolute. “Do you honestly think your cheap manipulation tactics would work on me?” “Is that right?” I asked. The attendance sheet was passed to me. I skipped Weston’s name and only signed my own. When I handed the clipboard to Asher, my fingers accidentally brushed against his hand. He flinched like a startled cat, pulling his hand back as if I carried a plague, radiating massive single-guy energy. “You…” He cleared his throat. “Why didn’t you sign Weston’s name?” He was acting like the righteous moral judge of Weston’s love life. Too bad for him, I fully intended to drag him down into the mud with me. “Because you’re sitting right next to me now!” I gave him a bright smile. He completely avoided eye contact, staring rigidly at the chalkboard. “Here, borrow my pen,” I said. He snatched it frantically and forged Weston’s signature, looking visibly panicked. His handwriting was actually really nice. “Your name isn’t on the roster,” I said, tilting my head to look straight into his eyes. “So, did you come here specifically to see me?” He instantly went on the defensive, drawing a hard line. “I came here to warn you!” “Oh.” I held my hand out. “Can I have my pen back?” The pen in his hand seemed to burn him like a hot potato. He shoved it back to me. I held the pen gently in both hands, examining it like a priceless artifact. “What are you doing?” He couldn’t resist asking. “This is the very first pen we’ve ever shared. I’m going to lock it in a safe.” I spoke with utter sincerity. The moment the bell rang, Asher bolted from the room without looking back. I dropped the smile, packed my bag slowly, and stopped by the podium on my way out. Handing the attendance sheet to the professor, I noticed him searching for a pen. “Here, Professor, you can keep this one. I have plenty.” Walking out of the building, I leaned against the brick wall and pulled out my phone. I switched to a burner Snapchat account, styling the bitmoji to look like a guy, and added Asher. AntiSimpBro: [Who are you?] There was a heavy dose of paranoid defense in his words that wasn’t there last night. DogTrainer: [8 AM class. Room 801. I got a picture of you secretly holding hands with Harper.] AntiSimpBro: [?] AntiSimpBro: [Our hands literally just brushed!] AntiSimpBro: [I swear to God, it was an accident! Well, she did it on purpose, but I didn’t! Whatever, I didn’t do it!] A few minutes passed. AntiSimpBro: [How much money do you want to delete it?] He instantly sent $100 via Apple Pay. I didn’t accept it. DogTrainer: [You and Weston have a group chat?] AntiSimpBro: [How do you know that?] DogTrainer: [Add me.] AntiSimpBro: [It’s our frat chat. Why do you want in?] DogTrainer: [Because I have a massive crush on Weston.] I pulled the wildest excuse out of thin air. AntiSimpBro: [Aren’t you a dude?] DogTrainer: [Got a problem with that?] He added me to the chat. Then he DM’d me again to reiterate. AntiSimpBro: [Make sure you delete that photo.] AntiSimpBro: [I would literally rather die than hold her hand.] I didn’t reply. I switched back to my main account. As soon as it loaded, texts from Weston popped up. Weston: [Did you sign my name?] Weston: [Wanna go camping this weekend?] Before I could even type a response, a text from Avery came through. Avery: [Weston just invited me camping! Do you think I should say yes?] Weston was always like this. He invited someone else first, then invited me. I was his eternal, fail-safe backup plan. But this time, I wanted him to taste his own medicine. 4 For the weekend camping trip, everyone was from Weston’s circle. Avery shoved past me and claimed the passenger seat of Weston’s SUV. “Sorry, Harper. I’m just used to riding in Weston’s car. I get carsick in anyone else’s.” The back seats were already packed. Weston looked at me. “Why don’t you ride in Asher’s car?” “Yeah, you guys can chat,” Avery winked at me from the window. “After all, you were desperate enough to add him in the middle of the night.” “You added him?” Weston zeroed in on the keyword. Mason, sitting in the back, laughed and looked at me. “What’s wrong, did you change your target, freshman?” Weston’s expression subtly shifted. But it only lasted a second. He quickly reverted to his usual untouchable, arrogant demeanor. He smirked and yelled toward the other car, “Asher, I’m leaving her in your hands!” Then he slammed the passenger door shut for Avery, completely cutting off any chance of me riding with him. “As a friend, don’t say I never hooked you up,” he muttered to me under his breath. With that, he shoved me toward Asher’s car. But Asher, standing by his door, completely rejected the idea. “Sorry. My car doesn’t take female strangers.” He gave me zero face. The entire group burst into laughter. I was the outcast no one wanted to drive, left standing awkwardly in the middle of the parking lot. Avery laughed the loudest. “What are you laughing at?” Asher snapped at her. “You aren’t allowed in either.” Avery’s smile vanished. Flustered and embarrassed, she shot back, “Who said I wanted to ride in your car anyway?” “Oh, just the fact that you practically sprinted to steal shotgun,” he exposed her bluntly. Mason stepped in to defuse the situation. He gave up his seat in the back of Weston’s car for me and hopped into Asher’s passenger seat. On the highway, Avery and Weston were laughing and chatting in the front seats. When the cars pulled over at a rest stop, the bro group chat started blowing up. Mason: [Weston, stop bullying the freshman just because she’s obsessed with you.] Mason: [You know exactly what kind of guy she likes, why are you throwing her at Asher?] Weston and Asher were polar opposites. One was a seasoned playboy treating the world like his playground; the other was an arrogant, isolated cynic who shot straight from the hip. No one in their right mind would ever pair me and Asher together. DogTrainer: [Harper and Asher are literal soulmates.] AntiSimpBro: [?] Mason: [Who is this guy? When did he get added?] DogTrainer was removed from the group by AntiSimpBro. Asher immediately DM’d my burner account. AntiSimpBro: [Try talking that garbage one more time.] DogTrainer: [I still have the picture of you guys holding hands.] I looked up toward the driver’s seat of the other car. Asher was staring at his phone, his face completely expressionless. His jawline was sharp, and the messy hair falling over his forehead couldn’t hide the icy glare in his eyes. Looking at him, you would never guess he was currently spamming my DMs with stickers of a cartoon dog crying on its knees begging for mercy. AntiSimpBro: [Bro. My guy. Everyone makes mistakes.] AntiSimpBro: [Give me some face here.] AntiSimpBro invited DogTrainer to the group. AntiSimpBro: [Lol, he’s a nobody. Just some dude.] AntiSimpBro: [He gets a kick out of stirring up drama between me and Weston.] Mason: [Your usernames actually match pretty well.] Mason: [Don’t worry, literally no one would believe him.] Mason: [Soulmates, lmaoooo. She’d fall for Avery before she’d fall for you, bro.] AntiSimpBro: […] Weston walked out of the rest stop convenience store and handed a plastic bag of snacks to Avery. “Omg, thank you Weston!” She looked thrilled, digging through the bag and pulling out a mango juice. “That one’s for Harper.” Weston effortlessly snatched the mango juice out of her hand and tossed it directly into my lap. “It’s the only flavor she drinks.” Avery’s face froze. She forced a stiff, awkward smile. “Yeah, I was actually just grabbing it to hand to her.” She shot me a dirty look, then poked Weston’s arm. “Weston, look at the group chat, it’s hilarious. Asher added some random comedian.” Weston raised an eyebrow, swiped through the messages on his phone, smirked, and dismissed it entirely. As the car started moving again, Avery turned around and whispered to me, “It’s such a shame you aren’t in the chat. You have no idea what we’re all laughing at.”

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He says I’m a pathological liar. Just like my mother, always faking illness and playing the victim to beg for sympathy. On my eighteenth birthday, I called him, my voice trembling with desperation: “Please, just show up this once. If you don’t, I will die.” His voice on the other end was icy and indifferent: “So you’ve learned to threaten me now? Then go ahead and die.” The line went dead. I smiled, my heart entirely hollowed out. The mechanical chime of the System echoed in my mind: [Mission failed. Host termination sequence initiating—] I died on the day of my eighteenth birthday. And yet, that very billionaire CEO—the man who despised his eldest son more than anyone else in the world—went completely insane. 01. I was a Tasker. I transmigrated into this world when the boy, Ethan Brooks, was only six years old. The System told me that my only mission was simple: get my father to spend just one birthday with me, and the task would be complete. At first, I thought nothing could be easier. In the mirror, my six-year-old self had a chubby, adorable face with bright, innocent eyes. Whenever neighbors or sweet old ladies passed by on the street, they couldn’t help but stop to hug me. “What a precious little boy. His parents must absolutely treasure him.” But I soon discovered the brutal truth. The person who hated me most in this entire world was my own father. 02. Marcus Brooks was forced to marry my mother. Back then, he was the golden heir to the Brooks Conglomerate, deeply in love with his college sweetheart—a struggling, low-tier Hollywood actress. My grandfather was furious. He despised the entertainment industry and forced Marcus to break off the relationship, ordering him home to accept an arranged marriage. The match chosen for him was my mother, Clara. Marcus originally intended to just go through the motions to appease my grandfather. But Clara loved him. She loved him desperately, to the point of madness. She had carried a secret crush on Marcus for years. She pursued him relentlessly, crying for him, going on hunger strikes, and even resorting to self-harm. Marcus felt suffocated by the sheer weight of her obsession. Eventually, Clara became pregnant. Under the crushing pressure from both my grandfather and the public eye, Marcus finally married her. They spent six incredibly cold months in matrimony. Six months later, Clara passed away while giving birth to me. Whether it was during the grueling hours of her fatal labor or the somber days of her funeral, Marcus never once showed up. Three months after she passed, he finally returned to the estate. The nanny carried me out and placed me right in front of him. He cast a brief, sweeping glance over my face, leaving behind a single, freezing sentence. “He looks exactly like Clara.” Then he turned and walked away without a shred of lingering warmth. 03. By the time I was six, I had already learned to be fiercely independent. During an art class at school, the teacher asked us to draw “My Family.” In my drawing, there was only myself and Mrs. Gable, our nanny. The teacher bent down and asked, “Where is your daddy, Ethan?” “Daddy lives inside the television.” “And where is your mommy?” “Mommy is up in heaven.” The teacher went silent for a long time. She gently patted my head, then walked into the main office to call Marcus. “Mr. Brooks, next Tuesday is our Parent-Teacher Open Day. Would it be possible for you to come in and talk about Ethan?” I overheard her call from outside the door, and a tiny spark of anticipation flared up in my chest. Next Tuesday also happened to be my birthday. If Daddy came to school, it would count as him spending my birthday with me. When Tuesday arrived, I started waiting from noon. I waited through one class period after another. By the time the final bell rang and school dismissed, a sleek, black Maybach finally rolled through the school gates. My eyes widened with hopeful excitement. But the person who stepped out of the luxury vehicle was a sharp-looking man in a tailored suit—Marcus’s executive assistant. “Mr. Brooks asked me to hand this over to you, ma’am,” the assistant said, sliding a high-end gift basket and a premium store gift card into the teacher’s hands. “He also mentioned that the boy is inherently difficult and ill-mannered. He apologizes for any trouble Ethan might cause you.” The teacher let out a heavy, deep sigh. She wanted to tell him that it wasn’t true at all. I was incredibly well-behaved. I had a gentle disposition and worked harder than anyone else in class. But the Maybach had already pulled a swift U-turn and sped away, as if sparing even a single second for me was a massive waste of their time. For the first time, I realized a cruel truth about parental love. It is either the easiest thing in the world to get, requiring absolutely no effort at all. Or, it is the hardest thing in the world to obtain, no matter how hard you try. 04. But I didn’t give up. At first, I thought that if Daddy realized I was a good kid, he would eventually grow to love me. So I pushed myself to the absolute limit in my studies. Every single semester, I made the Principal’s Honor Roll, and my academic certificates lined the walls of my bedroom. But it was completely useless. Whenever Mrs. Gable texted these achievements to Marcus, his inbox remained a graveyard of unread messages. Later on, some boys in my grade started bullying me. They cornered me on the playground, smirking maliciously. “You claim your dad is Marcus Brooks?” “What a pathetic liar. Look at yourself. You don’t look a single bit like the son of a billionaire CEO.” “Exactly! No one ever shows up for you on Parent-Teacher night. I bet you’re just some stray orphan!” A fight broke out. We slammed hard into the glass display cases lining the hallway near the gymnasium. The glass shattered into shards. One of the boys, completely blinded by rage, grabbed a jagged piece of glass and slashed it savagely across my forearm. … Lying in the hospital ward, I overheard the parents of those boys whispering in low, hurried voices outside. “I heard this kid is just an illegitimate nobody.” “We can just throw a few thousand dollars at him to settle this out of court.” “Why don’t we talk to the Board of Trustees and have him expelled? If he stays at this academy and starts spreading rumors, it’ll ruin our boy’s chances at the Ivy Leagues…” I sat frozen on the hospital bed, my expression entirely numb. Protecting one’s own child is a basic human instinct. I didn’t blame those parents for wanting to sacrifice me to secure their children’s futures. In fact, I felt a deep, aching envy toward those boys. Suddenly, the hushed whispers outside ceased entirely. In their place came a wave of pure panic: “M-Mr. Brooks?” Marcus had arrived at the very last moment. Behind him walked a team of cold, calculating lawyers, executive assistants, and a trembling, bowing school principal. “I understand completely, Mr. Brooks. This was a severe lapse in our security,” the principal stammered, sweat dripping down his face. “I will handle this with the utmost severity. The students responsible will be expelled immediately!” Marcus gave a curt, indifferent nod. Leaving his assistants and legal team outside to handle the paperwork, he pushed open the door to my room and stepped inside. My heart had never felt so warm. In that single moment, I genuinely believed the thick sheets of ice between Marcus and me were finally beginning to melt. “Daddy…” I choked out, my voice thick with tears. But in the next second, the words died instantly in my throat. Because I saw the look in Marcus’s eyes. They were completely, devastatingly cold. “Ethan Brooks, look at you. Quite the performer,” he said softly. “Are you trying to play the exact same cards your mother used to play?” It wasn’t until much later that the nanny told me the truth. Years ago, to win Marcus’s sympathy, Clara had hired thugs to harass her on the street, only to call him sobbing in terror. “How much did you pay those classmates of yours to get them to put on this little show for you?” Marcus’s dark, fathomless eyes bored into me, filled with merciless scrutiny. I felt the blood in my veins freeze solid in an instant. “I didn’t do it.” “Don’t lie to me, Ethan.” “I really didn’t do it!!” I broke down crying, entirely unable to prove my innocence, crushed under the weight of my own helplessness. Marcus stared down at me with profound disappointment for a long moment, then lowered his voice. “I genuinely thought you would turn out different from her.” “But it seems you are becoming more like her every single day.” He turned on his heel and strode out of the room. The principal hurried to keep up with his pace. Completely unaware of the conversation that had just occurred inside, he began pouring praise over me to impress Marcus. “I had no idea Ethan was your son, Mr. Brooks! No wonder he’s so remarkable. He takes right after you.” “He tops the class in every single exam, and his essays are beautifully written. His prose actually shares a striking resemblance to the articles you published back in your Ivy League days…” Marcus’s footsteps paused slightly. But then, he let out a bitter, low chuckle. “What a waste.” With that, his footsteps resumed, growing fainter and fainter until they vanished down the corridor. 05. The years bled into one another, and I grew older. Every single year, I tried every method imaginable to beg Marcus to spend my birthday with me. A few times, I came incredibly close to succeeding. But in the end, Marcus never showed up. He would instruct his assistant to deliver gifts to me—each one more lavish and expensive than the last—alongside a custom, thousand-dollar designer cake. Perhaps, in front of the public eye, he still needed to maintain the facade of a dutiful father. But he himself never stepped foot near me. He detested me. He believed I inherited Clara’s manipulative traits and was rotten to the core. When I studied hard and excelled, he thought I was putting on a calculated act. When I was hospitalized with a dangerously high fever, he assumed I was faking illness to beg for attention. No matter what I did, it was always wrong. Eventually, Mrs. Gable grew too old and retired, leaving me completely alone in the apartment. Whenever I grew exhausted from studying, I would turn on the television. On the screen, Marcus and his wife, Madeline, were taking their younger son, Leo, onto a popular celebrity family reality show. Madeline was his first love. After my grandfather passed away, Marcus had finally gotten exactly what he wanted and married her. He poured massive resources into backing her career, transforming the once low-tier actress into an A-list Hollywood star with millions of adoring fans. When the three of them appeared together on screen—the handsome, billionaire father, the stunningly beautiful mother, and the lively, charming son—it was picture-perfect. It really was beautiful. I felt genuinely happy for Leo. He had the most blissful family in the world. And Leo truly was happy. Even though Marcus managed a global conglomerate, he always carved out time to help Leo with his homework, build Lego sets with him, and shoot hoops in their private basketball court. The live stream comments rolled across the screen in endless waves: [Mr. Brooks is literally the best dad in the world.] [I’m so jealous, I wish I had a father like him.] I smiled faintly and switched off the TV. Tomorrow would be my eighteenth birthday. This was my absolute last chance. If I failed to complete the mission, I would be permanently erased by the System. I picked up my phone and dialed Marcus’s number. I called repeatedly, but he never picked up. Left with no choice, I pressed down to record a voicemail. “Daddy, please, I’m begging you. A legal adulthood birthday only happens once in a lifetime.” “Since I was a kid, you’ve never shown up for a single birthday. Just this once… just be here with me this once, okay?” “If you don’t… I will really die…” A long time passed before a voice message notification popped up on my screen. My fingers trembled violently as I tapped to play it. Marcus’s voice came through, dripping with icy sarcasm and mockery. “So you’ve learned to threaten me now?” “Then go ahead and die.” 06. The birthday candles burned down to the very wick. The tiny flames flickered one last time, then died out, plunging the room into darkness. I used a plastic fork to scoop a bit of the frosting from the cake and placed it in my mouth. It was sweet, light, and airy, like a cloud. But I could taste nothing but bitterness. [Host, time is almost up.] The clock was rapidly ticking toward midnight. On my social media feed, a new post from Marcus popped up. It was a picture of Leo smiling brightly under the sun at an exclusive golf country club. The caption was brief, but it couldn’t hide the overwhelming adoration: “Out on the green with Leo today. The boy’s swing is improving incredibly fast. So proud of him.” I stared at it for a moment, then took a picture of my lonely birthday cake and posted a status update of my own. “No matter what, thank you for everything.” “Not every parent loves their child, but every child is born loving their parents.” “I will love you forever. And goodbye, Daddy.” The clock finally struck twelve midnight. Still wearing my paper birthday hat, I quietly stopped breathing. My soul drifted out of my physical form, floating gently into the air. Outside the window lay the sparkling lights of a sprawling city; inside, my body gradually grew cold in the lonely darkness. I asked the System, “Why haven’t I left yet?” The deep, resonant mechanical voice replied, [Because right now, this is not the end.] As if confirming the System’s words. Ten minutes later, a heavy pounding echoed at the front door. There was no answer. The only person who could open the door was currently lying breathless on the sofa. The knocking grew faster, louder, and more frantic. “Ethan Brooks!” Finally, I heard Marcus’s voice. “Open the door. I know you’re inside.”

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I grew up alongside New York’s most untouchable heir, Carter Winchester. For ten whole years, I transitioned from the “older sister” who took care of him, to his unacknowledged underground lover, and finally to the most obedient piece in his endless rotation of women. Everyone in our circle knew I loved him. Until his first love—his white moonlight—returned to the States. To prove his devotion, he cleared out all the beautiful distractions around him. Including me. The night I left, he and his friends laughed me out of the room. But later, they all said the same thing. Carter Winchester had lost his mind. By the time I dragged myself out of bed, Carter was still sound asleep. The floor was a mess, and my sheer stockings were completely ruined. But I had an executive meeting at the company this morning. I clicked my tongue in annoyance, rubbing my aching lower back as I rummaged through the dresser drawers. I distinctly remembered leaving a spare pair here last time, but I couldn’t find them anywhere. Just then, a low whistle sounded behind me. Carter’s voice dripped with teasing amusement. “Big sis, your body is still as incredible as ever.” I didn’t have the energy to entertain him. “Where are my stockings?” He furrowed his handsome brows, thinking for a second, looking entirely unbothered. “I think Chloe or Lily from Columbia University might have worn them home last time? I don’t remember.” My hands stopped moving. Even though it wasn’t the first time I had heard him say something so casually cruel, my heart still gave a dull ache, followed closely by a wave of self-deprecation. After all these years, hadn’t I learned my lesson? I was never anyone special to him. I let out a long sigh, stood up, and started putting on my clothes. But Carter patted the empty space beside him. Like a lazy, satisfied predator, his implication was heavy. “Big sis, why are you leaving so early?” “I have a meeting at the company.” He gave me a look and clicked his tongue. “Is this about that commercial plot in Manhattan? Why work so hard? Just stay here with me this morning, and that land is yours.” It was afternoon by the time I made it to the office. My whole body ached. The moment I sat down, my father called. His voice was oozing with praise. “Maddie, we got the land! You did great this time. Keep Carter happy, your younger brother’s future depends entirely on you.” Holding the phone, I stared at my twenty-six-year-old reflection in the glass window. A bitter smile crept onto my face. “Dad, I’m not that young anymore. Carter has plenty of eighteen and nineteen-year-old girls throwing themselves at him. What makes you think I can keep his attention?” My father paused on the other end of the line. “Besides, this is probably the last time Carter is going to look out for us.” “Why?!” My father’s voice instantly spiked with panic. “Madeline, did you offend him?! Go apologize right now! Your brother’s inheritance—” I gripped the phone tightly. My so-called family was a bottomless pit of greed. To them, I was just a bargaining chip. As long as I slept with Carter, I brought in resources. I could be anything to them, except a human being. A crushing wave of humiliation washed over me, and the tears I’d been holding back finally fell. “Because Madison is coming back.” I didn’t want to say another word. I hung up. Outside, my secretary knocked tentatively on the door. “Ms. Hayes, the gift you requested is ready. Would you like to inspect it?” I wiped my tears and signaled her to come in. The watch in the velvet box was stunning, and obscenely expensive. A Vacheron Constantin Les Cabinotiers. Just like me. An endless traveler, lost at sea, never finding a place to land. That was the reality of my relationship with Carter. You could call us lovers, or you could call it a transactional exchange. But out of all the women in his orbit, I was undeniably the most obedient. After all, my father relied heavily on the Winchester family empire. From the time I was in high school, I was constantly given orders: “Serve the young master of the Winchester family well.” I carried his bags, did his homework, and cleaned up his messes. He went from being annoyed by me and ordering me around, to secretly beating up an upperclassman who was harassing me. I genuinely thought I was special. I watched him grow into a devastatingly handsome young man. I watched as countless beautiful girls flocked to him. I watched him fool around with one—or several—of them the night before, only to throw his arm over my shoulder the next day, looking incredibly smug. “Listen up, everyone. This is my big sis.” His hand was so warm against my shoulder that I almost shivered from the heat. I watched my own heart sink into an abyss of unrequited love, forcing myself to hide it carefully. Until the night he got blackout drunk and called me to pick him up. I finally managed to get the drunken heir back to his penthouse. I was just about to leave when he grabbed my wrist. He narrowed his eyes, half-asleep, looking at me with a gaze dripping in affection. “Maddie.” When his kiss fell, I didn’t push him away. There were no confessions, no flowers. Only pain. But I took it willingly. I just never expected the look in his eyes when he woke up the next morning. It was pure disdain. “Madeline, you really are…” Are what? I sat up, bewildered. Before I even had the chance to feel shy, Carter went straight to the shower, changed his clothes, and left. The door slammed shut with a deafening bang. He didn’t even look back at me. I sat frozen on the bed for a long time, having no idea what I had done wrong. It wasn’t until later that I found out. The day before, my father had gone to him on his knees, begging for a massive capital injection to save our crumbling family business. And it wasn’t until much, much later that I realized the “Maddie” he was calling out for that night wasn’t Madeline. It was Madison. He didn’t love me. My fragile, blooming feelings were slaughtered before they even saw the light of day. From that day forward, he only ever called me “Big Sis.” It felt like a custom-made, condescending brand of humiliation. Reserved only for me. He didn’t contact me for a whole week after that. Until his birthday. Carter loved grand spectacles. His birthdays were massive events, swarming with the heirs and socialites of New York’s upper crust. I originally didn’t want to go, but his childhood friends kept blowing up my phone. “Madeline, Carter is celebrating at The Onyx tonight. It wouldn’t look right if you didn’t show, would it?” I hesitated for a long time before finally giving in. I planned to just show my face, hand over the gift, and leave. But right as I reached for the handle of the VIP suite, I heard one of Carter’s friends ask a question. “Carter, now that Madison is back, what are you gonna do about her?” The room erupted in a chorus of teasing whistles. My hand froze on the door. A moment later, Carter’s lazy, careless drawl drifted through the wood. “What do you mean, do about her? She’s been following me around for years. We’ll just deal with it how it usually goes.” “Damn, you’re generous. A breakup gift of prime Manhattan real estate? Careful, she might cling to you like a leech. Sugar daddies as generous as you are hard to find.” It felt like someone had slapped me across the face. My fingers gripped the watch box so tightly they trembled. I just wanted to turn and run. But suddenly, someone shoved me hard from behind. I lost my footing, stumbling straight through the door and crashing violently into a towering champagne pyramid. The glowing, crystal tower collapsed in an explosive crash of breaking glass. Sticky champagne soaked my hair and drenched my body. My white strapless dress was ruined, clinging to my skin. My carefully done makeup ran down my cheeks with the alcohol. I was a pathetic, unsalvageable mess. “Oh! My bad, I didn’t mean to.” It was Blair Kensington. A wealthy socialite and Madison’s best friend. I looked up. Carter was sitting dead center on the plush leather sofa. Madison was leaning delicately against his chest, wearing a perfectly calculated expression of surprise. “Madeline? What are you doing here?” When did she get back to the States? I didn’t want to look this pathetic in front of her, but everyone in the room was watching the show. Not a single person stepped forward to help me up. Blair’s voice was the loudest. “I’m just saying, Madeline, if you’re getting too old for heels, just say so. Didn’t know you wanted to bow down to us so badly.” “Too bad we aren’t Carter. We don’t have any real estate to hand out.” The room erupted into laughter. They exchanged secretive, knowing glances, fully enjoying the spectacle. Until the laughter naturally died down. Carter furrowed his brows, looking at me like I was a stain on his reputation. “What are you doing here?” If I didn’t understand it by now, I was an idiot. This whole thing was a coordinated ambush by Carter’s inner circle—a welcoming “gift” for Madison’s return. As I tried to stand, a sharp, shooting pain flared in my ankle. I almost collapsed again. When I threw my hand out to catch myself, shards of broken glass dug deep into my palm. I shuddered in pain. “I… came to give you your birthday present.” “No need.” He glanced at the watch box in my hand, his tone airy and dismissive. “I have plenty of things like that. Keep it for yourself. I’ll have my driver take you home.” The AC in the club was blasting heat, but I felt like I was drowning in a freezing lake. I couldn’t stop shivering. The moment the suite door clicked shut behind me, the room erupted into roaring laughter again. My heart finally, entirely, sank to the bottom. Later that night, someone texted me a video. Carter, slightly drunk and egged on by the cheers of his friends, pulled Madison into his arms and kissed her deeply, passionately. He murmured her name over and over. “Maddie, Maddie…” So cherished. Like she was the most precious thing in the world. Watching it, a sudden laugh escaped my throat as tears rolled down my cheeks. Carter had never kissed me in front of his friends. To him, I was just a convenient, well-worn object he kept around. Tasteless to chew on, but a pity to throw away. My phone buzzed again. Another message from an unknown number in their circle. “What do you think you are?” Yeah. What am I? Just a joke. I parked my car under the Brooklyn Bridge and walked up to the pedestrian walkway. In front of me was the endless, rushing stream of New York traffic. Below was the dark, silent river. People in Carter’s circle hated crowded places. They always felt like being around normal people tainted their status. But I loved watching people. I watched young couples kissing in beat-up sedans. I saw exhausted blue-collar workers resting their heads against the bus windows, looking drained of life. I saw girls with perfectly engineered faces sitting in the passenger seats of convertibles, ecstatic as they clutched orange Hermès bags. They were so young. They didn’t realize that every gift life hands you already has a price tag secretly attached. Just like me. I turned around, stepped onto the lower railing, and reached my hand out toward the open water to feel the freezing wind. Suddenly, a voice screamed from behind me. “Don’t do it!” Before I could even process the words, a massive force yanked me off the railing. The person dragged me backward, shouting at the top of his lungs. “You’re so young! Don’t do anything stupid!” Caught completely off guard, I tumbled onto the concrete, tangled up with a man. The heel of my shoe snagged, twisting my already injured ankle again. I let out a sharp cry of pain. But the nightmare wasn’t over. My already ruined cocktail dress let out a horrifying, audible RIP. I froze, absolutely terrified to move, and screamed at him in blind panic. “I wasn’t trying to kill myself! Let go of me!” “Don’t be st—” The guy froze mid-sentence. “Wait, you weren’t jumping?” It was only then that I got a good look at the culprit. He was young. Really good-looking. Wearing a white hoodie, looking as fresh and earnest as a sapling. His face turned bright red, and he started stammering. “I-I’m so sorry…” He frantically stripped off his oversized jacket and draped it over me. “I am so sorry, I really thought you were jumping, I just panicked and tackled you.” I must have forgotten to check my horoscope today, because every single thing that had happened was an absolute disaster. But this guy wouldn’t leave me alone. He trailed behind me like a guilty puppy. “Let me walk you to your car.” “I said no.” But the kid was acting like a Golden Retriever with a wagging tail, desperately trying to show his remorse. He followed me step for step. My patience finally snapped. I spun around, reached out, hooked a finger into his hoodie strings, and yanked him down. The kid went rigid as a board. I watched my reflection grow larger in his wide, panicked eyes… Then, a sudden flash of white light blinded me. I turned my head stiffly. The speeding traffic on the bridge had slowed to a crawl. In almost every passing car, someone was excitedly holding up their smartphone—filming this highly entertaining “rescue” scene. I didn’t even have to guess. By tonight, every social media platform would be flooded with the tag: #HeartbrokenWomanJumpsOffBridge #HandsomeCollegeStudentSavesTheDay. I made a split-second decision. I pulled his oversized jacket completely over my head. And I bolted. When I got home, I drew the blackout curtains and slept like the dead. Until I was jolted awake by a vicious slap across the face. I opened my eyes to see my father’s face twisted in rage. “What kind of shameful, humiliating stunt did you pull?!” My vision went black for a few seconds before I finally caught my breath. “What are you doing?” “Madeline, you’ve really outdone yourself! You get dumped and you go jump off a bridge?! Do you care about the Hayes family’s reputation at all?!” He was breathing heavily, his nostrils flaring like an enraged bull. Behind him stood my stepmother, Linda, barely hiding the smug look on her face. “Oh, Richard, calm down. Maddie definitely didn’t mean it. She was just upset about being dumped. Don’t yell at the poor girl.” My mother had barely been dead a month before Linda moved in, already heavily pregnant. My nightmare started the day she crossed the threshold. Even sending me off to act as a “study buddy” for Carter was Linda’s “well-intentioned” suggestion. She had used her soft, venomous voice: “Childhood sweethearts are the hardest to forget. If our Maddie gets lucky, she might be able to help her little brother out in the future.” And just like that, I was boxed up and given away as a gift. “She’s a useless piece of trash! She clung to him for all these years and couldn’t even secure a ring. And now she’s been thrown out on the street!” My father was getting angrier by the second, barking orders at me. “Since you can’t get Carter to change his mind, there’s no reason for you to sit on the board of the company anymore. Hand over the keys!” As if I actually cared about that sinking ship. It was almost funny. “I can give you the keys.” I cut him off. “Give me my mother’s ashes.” For years, the only reason I hadn’t disappeared was because they were using my mother’s urn as collateral. I stared dead into my father’s eyes. I watched his face shift from red, to green, and finally to purple, before he erupted into a screaming fit. “You little bitch! You’re just like your mother—” “Don’t you dare talk about my mother!” A sudden wave of intense nausea hit me. I turned my head and vomited over the side of the bed. Linda violently tugged on my father’s sleeve, cutting off his tirade. She whispered something to him, and to my horror, I saw a flash of wild ecstasy ignite in both their eyes. Instantly, my father’s entire demeanor flipped. “Maddie, sweetie… are you pregnant?” I froze. Come to think of it, last time we really didn’t… “You rest up. Your stepmother and I will make you some soup and come check on you later.” My father rubbed his hands together greedily, looking like a disgusting blowfly hovering over rotting meat.

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College acceptance letters rolled in, and I sent a message to my online tutor and virtual crush. “I didn’t get into Harvard. Goodbye.” Then I turned right around, enrolled at MIT, and blocked him. Fast forward to my freshman year lab. The grad student TA called me out in front of the entire class. “Come up to the board and solve this. I’ve taught you this before.” Me: “…” Are you kidding me?! Why is the online crush who desperately wanted me to go to Harvard standing in an MIT classroom?! Chapter 1 When I started taking AP tracks in my junior year of high school, my GPA tanked hard. I was terrified I wouldn’t make it into MIT. Out of desperation, I started flirting with a guy on a study forum whose username was “Harvard Reject.” I asked him to help me study. He was gentle, considerate, and incredibly understanding. “Don’t worry. With me around, I guarantee you’ll get into Harvard.” I was flattered, but panicked. “No, no, Harvard isn’t necessary.” Secretly, I was muttering to myself: MIT is exactly what I want. “Tsk, what kind of talk is that? You can look down on your own IQ, but don’t insult my abilities.” Me: “…” Right, right. I certainly didn’t dare insult his abilities. “Harvard Bro” really knew his stuff. Under his tutoring, my grades didn’t just skyrocket; they stabilized. On my final practice SAT, I scored a massive 1560. I excitedly shared the news with him. Harvard Bro was completely unfazed. “Yeah, that score should be enough for Harvard.” It was definitely enough, but I didn’t want to go to Harvard. I had my heart set on MIT since day one. But over the year he tutored me, I clearly felt that Harvard Bro had a weird obsession with Harvard. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have kept “Harvard Reject” as his username for over a year. If I didn’t go to Harvard, would he be disappointed? Staring at his message, I decided to test the waters. “What if I don’t get into Harvard?” “Relax, you’ll definitely get in.” Hmm… He probably thought I was just having pre-test jitters and was trying to comfort me. Just like that, I kept my MIT dream a secret. The day before college decisions, Harvard Bro messaged me, telling me to stay calm. He said he was busy with his master’s thesis and told me to text him the moment my official acceptances came through. Chapter 2 Late March arrived, and decisions dropped. I had a near-perfect SAT and stellar extracurriculars. Hmm… I got into Harvard, and I got into MIT. While I was agonizing over which to officially accept, my mom got a personal recruitment call from MIT admissions. She practically forced the decision for me: MIT it was. Goodbye, Harvard. Getting into my dream school was obviously amazing. But whenever I thought of Harvard Bro, who had tutored me for so long, anxiety crept in. He kept pushing me toward Harvard. Choosing MIT felt like a massive betrayal. While I was agonizing over how to break the news, his message popped up first. “Decisions are out, right? How did you do?” Look at that gentle check-in. My guilt deepened tenfold. I steeled my heart, gritted my teeth, and sent a message. “I didn’t do well. I didn’t get into Harvard.” “…” He fell silent. Before his second message could come through, I fired off another line: “I’m sorry. Goodbye.” Then I decisively blocked him and went offline. Chapter 3 After that, I completely lost touch with Harvard Bro. Even though it was just a fleeting digital romance, passing by the Harvard campus in Cambridge during my first week of college still made me stop in my tracks. My roommate, Zoe, asked what was wrong, noticing the mix of regret and longing in my eyes. I sighed. “Once upon a time, I was this close to going to Harvard.” “…” Zoe was speechless. She grabbed my arm and dragged me toward the library to fight for a seat. “Let me tell you a secret: every MIT student walking past Harvard says the exact same thing. Now hurry up, or all the good tables will be gone.” Me: “…” What a painfully honest humblebrag. Sure enough, the library was already packed. Zoe groaned. “Are these people monsters? We made it to MIT, why are we still grinding this hard?!” At a glance, every table was full. There were a few spots in the group-study zone, but after hearing a chaotic blend of three different languages, we decided the silent reading area was vastly superior. “Hey, I see a spot! Over there!” Zoe smacked my shoulder in excitement and sprinted over to negotiate with the occupants. Seconds later, she waved me over. “Chloe, hurry! We got seats.” As I walked up, I caught the end of their conversation: “Don’t mention it. You guys freshmen?” “Yeah!” Zoe smiled, her voice dripping with sweetness. I sat down quietly, noticing the seat directly across from me was empty, though a textbook was resting on the desk. “You should technically call me ‘Senior,’ but I’m actually a few years ahead. I’m a grad student now,” the guy said. “Wow, impressive!” While I was wondering if the empty seat across from me belonged to someone else, Zoe had already exchanged contacts with the senior. Once everyone settled, silence fell again. I looked down at my textbook. A few minutes later, a shadow fell over the desk, and someone pulled out the chair across from me. Whispered conversation ensued. “The PI dragged you back to the office?” “Yeah. Found an error in the data. Had to recalculate.” The first voice was Ethan, the senior who gave us the seats. The second voice was unfamiliar, but incredibly pleasant. I peeked up. Sitting across from me was a young man with glasses. He had high brow ridges, deep, expressive eyes, and thick eyelashes. His eyes were stunningly gorgeous—like something straight out of an anime. Sensing my gaze, he looked up. The moment our eyes met, my breath hitched. He was ridiculously handsome. But the anime-esque guy merely gave me a cold, sweeping glance. Then, his eyes landed on the textbook in front of me, and he raised an eyebrow. “Materials Science and Engineering? You’re an MSE major?” he asked, sounding surprised. Oh? He was actually talking to me. I nodded. I was always good at STEM in high school, largely thanks to Harvard Bro, so I declared MSE the moment I got into MIT. I don’t know if it was my imagination, but the guy’s lips curled up slightly. “Not bad.” Before I could process that, Ethan chimed in amicably, “What a coincidence! That’s our department too.” Ah. Very coincidental. Direct seniors. “Hi, nice to meet you,” I said politely. The handsome guy just gave a noncommittal “Hmm,” his attitude turning frosty again. “Don’t mind him,” Ethan laughed. “He’s just like that.” I smiled and brushed it off. Chapter 4 My major is notoriously brutal. The homework is endless and soul-crushing. It was another weekend. Zoe and I were trapped in our dorm, pulling our hair out over a Physical Chemistry problem set. Finally, Zoe let out a dramatic wail. “I literally can’t do this anymore. Just kill me. Why is it this hard?! I’ve recalculated it three times and it’s still wrong.” Looking at the stray hairs she had literally pulled from her scalp, I felt bad for her. But I was just as helpless. The difficulty jump from high school to college was a massive cliff. “Should we ask someone?” “Ask who?” Zoe’s question stumped me. The professor? Absolutely terrifying. Classmates? Zoe was the valedictorian of her high school and even she was stuck. In my despair, a figure popped into my head. Harvard Bro. If he were here, this problem would probably be child’s play for him. But I deleted him! If I had known college homework would be this torturous, I wouldn’t have acted so impulsively. Suddenly, Zoe sat bolt upright from her dead-corpse pose on the bed. “I know exactly who to ask!” “Who?” “That senior we met at the library! Ethan! I have his number. He’s an MSE grad student, he definitely knows this.” Zoe didn’t hesitate. She grabbed her phone and fired off a text. A minute later, she was dragging me out the door. “Let’s go, let’s go! He said yes. We’re heading to his lab right now.”

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During a reality show, my phone’s lock screen was exposed. It was a picture of Manhattan’s most elusive, old-money billionaire heir. The internet immediately tore me apart, accusing me of clout-chasing. My rival starlet sneered, “Delusional fangirls are honestly terrifying.” That very night, the billionaire heir created an official X (Twitter) account just to post: [She uses a picture of her own man as her wallpaper. Delusional? Are you out of your fing minds?]* 1 I am a trending actress in Hollywood. To build up some hype, I joined a highly popular, live-streamed reality TV show. The very first game required us to call our top pinned contact and invite them to dinner. If they refused, we failed the challenge. I pinched my phone, looking troubled as I racked my brain. Chloe Sterling strolled over to my side, a sweet smile plastered on her face. “What are you thinking about, Serena? Are you afraid of failing?” She was a big deal in the industry. We shared the exact same career trajectory when we blew up, making us undeniable rivals. Right now, though she was smiling, her eyes held a hidden, mocking glint. I glanced at her and stayed quiet. Given the time difference in Europe, my top pinned contact was definitely dead asleep right now. Even if I got lucky and woke him up, expecting him to cross the Atlantic just to eat dinner with me seemed pretty unrealistic. Seeing me ignore her, Chloe looked a bit annoyed. “Serena, why aren’t you saying anything?” The live chat was already coming for me: [This Serena Blake is so rude. Chloe is trying to interact with her and give her screen time, and she’s just giving her a resting bitch face?] [She’s probably pinning some guy who strung her along. She’s terrified of the embarrassment when he rejects her, lol.] [So annoying! Chloe is beautiful and sweet, don’t pay attention to this trashy girl.] I snapped back to reality and met her fixed stare. “Sorry, I zoned out.” She smirked at me provocatively, urging, “Then hurry up and start.” I had no choice but to slowly unlock my phone, revealing my top pinned contact. I never had the habit of setting long nicknames. My pinned contact was simply the letter “F”. Live chat: [Who is that? F? Doesn’t even have a full name? Probably some random nobody.] [Agreed. This girl doesn’t even have any friends in the industry. She’s struggling so hard.] I hit the audio call button. The dial tone echoed from the speaker. Once, twice… The ringing filled the room, but no one picked up. Chloe covered her mouth, giggling. “Are you not close with this person? Why aren’t they answering?” He was definitely fast asleep. I didn’t bother explaining. I just lowered my eyes, fully prepared for the call to automatically disconnect. Chloe looked like she was enjoying a show. “If you can’t even reach your top contact, we should just announce that you…” Before she could finish her sentence, the ringing abruptly stopped. The call connected. A lazy, incredibly magnetic, deep voice came through the speaker. It was thick with the raspy tone of someone who had just woken up. “Hello? “What’s wrong, baby?” 2 Chloe froze. The live chat instantly went ballistic. [Holy sh*t! This voice is lethal! I’m pregnant!] [Hold off on the pregnancy, didn’t you hear him call her baby?!] [Omg omg omg, if I dated a guy online with this voice, I’d let him scam me out of my life savings!] [Just asking quietly… is this Serena’s boyfriend?] I hadn’t expected to actually wake him up. I always thought he kept his phone off when he slept. But right now, I couldn’t care less about that. I just wanted this segment to be over. “Do you want to get dinner together tonight?” He clearly paused. “Tonight? “Your tonight?” Chloe looked confused. “Who is this guy? Why does he have to specify ‘your tonight’?” Her fans echoed: [Lmao, looks like she found herself a long-distance loser boyfriend.] I ignored her and continued, “Yeah.” The person on the other end didn’t hesitate for a second, his voice gradually clearing up. “Alright. I’ll have the jet prepped now.” I was stunned. “You’re really coming?” There was a rustling sound through the speaker, like he was getting out of bed. Then came his teasing voice. “It’s rare for you to take the initiative. Even if I have to cross the ocean, I’m going.” Live chat: [Wait, what?! Cross the ocean? He’s flying internationally just for dinner??] [No wonder he asked about ‘tonight’, he’s definitely in a different time zone right now!] [Who is Mr. F?! The bar is on the floor and he just raised it to the sky!!] Chloe’s face looked a bit ugly. She seemed displeased that I had stolen the spotlight. She gritted her teeth and raised her hand. “I’ll go next.” The host immediately passed the mic to her. She aggressively tapped into her pinned contacts. The name was boldly displayed: “Felix T.” Just as she hoped, the chat started spamming. [Felix T.? Is that the Felix I’m thinking of?] [Is there even a second one? It has to be Felix Thorne! The heir to the Thorne Empire, a true Wall Street heavyweight!] [Omg, I heard even tech CEOs can’t get a meeting with Felix Thorne. Is Chloe really that close to him?] [Lol, compared to Felix Thorne, that random Mr. F is a literal nobody.] [Hahaha, Serena definitely thought she was about to go viral, but she didn’t expect Chloe’s connections to be this insane!] Chloe feigned modesty. “Oh stop, don’t say that. Felix doesn’t like being too high-profile.” She turned, gave me a triumphant smile, and pressed the call button. I watched her quietly. I was actually a little curious about what was going to happen next. Almost immediately, a notification popped up on her screen— [You are not friends with this user. Call cannot be completed.] 3 Chloe’s face instantly turned green. She awkwardly tried a few more times, but the result was the same. She could only mutter to herself, “Huh? Felix must have accidentally deleted me. I totally forgot, he mentioned he was going to clear out his contacts…” The host quickly tried to save her face. “It’s fine, it’s fine! You can just pick someone else.” Next to her, I silently closed out of my messaging app. What I didn’t realize was that my phone was still being mirrored to the studio screen. My lock screen wallpaper flashed brightly for everyone to see. It was a man in a bespoke suit, looking straight ahead. His long, elegant fingers gripped a steering wheel, and a sleek, black luxury watch rested on his wrist. I quickly locked my phone. But the damage was done. The live chat absolutely exploded. [Holy sht! Felix Thorne! That’s Felix Thorne!] [I’m getting a nosebleed. How have I never seen this picture before?! He is so hot, is he trying to kill me?!] [Wait, this btch’s wallpaper is Felix Thorne? And she deliberately flashed it for us to see right now?] [Yeah, what is she trying to prove? Trying to chase clout on a live stream, excuse me?!] [Uh, what if she just genuinely likes him?] [That makes it even funnier! Does she not look in the mirror? Dreaming of marrying into a billionaire family? Especially someone on Felix Thorne’s level. I’m laughing my head off.] The other celebrity guests on set widened their eyes, covering their mouths and whispering. Chloe shot me a look and rolled her eyes. The host immediately asked if she was okay. Chloe gently touched her cheek, looking delicate. “It’s nothing. I just suddenly realized… delusional fangirls are honestly terrifying.” Live chat: [Oh yeah! Isn’t Chloe really good friends with Felix? Someone tell Felix there’s a stalker fangirl here using him for clout!] [Too bad Felix Thorne doesn’t care about the entertainment industry. Otherwise, I’d love to see Serena get blacklisted, hahaha.] Everyone on set caught Chloe’s implied insult. They all turned to look at me in unison. I didn’t say a word. I just pocketed my phone and stared at the production crew to cut my screen feed. Because it was a live broadcast, this tiny incident snowballed instantly. Someone clipped that segment and posted it on X. The caption read: [Chloe is such a straightforward queen, love her! Delusional trash needs to get out of Hollywood!!] The hashtag started trending, and a massive wave of netizens voiced their support: [Tsk tsk, my girl Chloe is a boss! I felt secondhand embarrassment for Serena through the screen.] [She probably didn’t expect Chloe to be so blunt. Look at her deadpan face, her clout-chasing failed and she’s big mad.] [Vomiting. I never understood how she got famous anyway. Cancel her already.] Chloe kept scrolling on her phone and somehow clicked into the trending hashtag. A screen full of insults directed at me was mirrored onto the main studio screen for everyone to read. She froze for a second, then looked at me in a complete panic. “Oh my gosh! How did this happen?! I’m just too outspoken, I never thought people would say all this! Serena, you aren’t mad at me, right?” I was the one getting dragged, yet she looked like the victim. Someone nearby immediately put an arm around her. “Chloe, we know you have a good heart. This is totally normal in Hollywood, it has nothing to do with you.” Chloe looked innocently into the camera. “I just think as public figures, we should watch our behavior and not do anything inappropriate.” The surrounding crew threw me looks of pure disdain. Feeling their judgmental stares, I was speechless. I just didn’t get it. If these people cared so much about Felix Thorne, couldn’t they recognize his voice? The “F” I just called… was him. And that picture? I took it on a whim when he came to pick me up from work one day. Is it illegal to use a picture I took of my own husband as my lock screen? 4 We had been secretly married for three years, and Felix had protected me flawlessly. No one had ever dug up our relationship, and I was perfectly happy with that freedom. But Chloe’s constant insinuations about being close to Felix felt incredibly bizarre. I had never heard of Felix being in contact with any Hollywood starlet other than me. How did she even get his contact info? Chloe was still acting wronged. The host pivoted to comfort her. “Don’t be sad, Chloe! We’re still recording, you can make another call!” She wiped away non-existent tears, scrolled through her list, and found someone named Preston Vance. “Okay! Can I call Felix’s absolute best friend?” The host nodded frantically. “Of course!” As Chloe dialed, she explained to the camera, “Preston is the heir to Vance Industries. He grew up with Felix, they’re practically brothers!” Live chat: [My girl Chloe is so professional. She was so wronged, but she immediately jumped back into work mode!] [Upvote! But who is Preston Vance? Never heard of him.] [Checking in, I just Googled him. His family runs a massive construction empire. Filthy rich!] [Anyone who is best bros with Felix Thorne is definitely a big deal. If Chloe is this close to all of them, she must be a real high-society princess!] [Omg, our Chloe is gorgeous AND comes from a crazy background! That’s my queen!] Amidst the envious gazes of the room, I slowly furrowed my brows. Preston Vance? Felix’s best friend? How come I had never heard of this guy? If I remembered correctly, Vance Construction was merely a sub-contractor for one of Thorne Enterprises’ subsidiaries. Preston Vance probably hadn’t even met Felix in person. How were they best friends? I was genuinely baffled, and I couldn’t help but ask, “Are you absolutely sure this guy is Felix Thorne’s good friend?” Chloe’s expression instantly changed. “What do you mean by that? Serena, if you have a problem with me, say it to my face, but you shouldn’t question me like this!” I looked her dead in the eye. “I just think that bragging on a live stream might be hard to walk back later.” She lost her media training for a second and glared at me. “Why don’t you look in the mirror? What right do you have to accuse me of bragging? Preston and Felix are incredibly close. When you’re ruined, don’t come begging me for help!” Looking at Chloe’s supreme confidence, I was both confused and fascinated. Where was she getting this audacity? The chat debated: [Is Serena Blake mentally ill? She can’t access high-society circles, so she gets jealous and accuses others of lying? How dark is her soul?] [Knowing Chloe’s background is so insane, I really want to know who Mr. F is. He was so obedient on the phone, is he just some boy-toy model Serena paid for? No wonder she’s having a meltdown comparing herself to Chloe!] [Lmao, it’s probably someone she’s ashamed to show. With Chloe’s powerful friends, Serena is about to be humiliated on all fronts!] Someone next to us chimed in, “Chloe, ignore the jealous hater. Make your call!” Chloe glared at me, then acted all sweet and flirty once the call connected, quickly completing the challenge. Everyone praised the Vance heir for treating her so well. She just smiled, looking shy and modest. Director Davis seemed to have a sudden stroke of genius. He pulled Chloe aside, practically fawning over her. “Chloe, since you have plans with Mr. Vance, why don’t we invite him to the studio for dinner? Let our little show bask in some of that billionaire aura! “I’ve been trying to get an interview with Felix Thorne for ages, but he never looks twice at our productions. It’s been my biggest regret…” Chloe immediately understood the assignment and patted the director’s shoulder aggressively. “Oh, Director Davis, say no more! I’ll send Preston the location right now. He and Felix are practically family. Getting him an interview? It’s just a matter of saying the word!” A matter of saying the word? Felix absolutely despised fluff interviews meant only to farm engagement. Did she really not consider the consequences of talking this big?

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Everyone knows that Manhattan’s most untouchable billionaire heir has a beloved dog. How much does he love it? When a popular Hollywood “It” girl’s perfume irritated the dog enough to make it sneeze, she was instantly blacklisted from the industry. That was, until I kicked his dog. Everyone thought I was completely ruined. No one knew that the dog was my breakup gift to the heir. First thing in the morning, the hashtag #HarperKicksDog shot to the top of the trending page. It started with a video shot by a bystander. In the clip, a woman kicked a Golden Retriever, sending the massive dog tumbling into a shallow ditch. The Golden Retriever dramatically collapsed at the bottom of the ditch, eyes squeezed shut, all four paws stiff in the air, looking absolutely dead. [Oh my god, animal abuse! That poor dog!] [This isn’t just abuse; she practically killed it! She needs to be in jail.] [You can tell just by looking at her that she’s a terrible person. Dox her!] At that point, the traction wasn’t huge. Until someone recognized the woman in the video was me. I am the entertainment industry’s most notorious “love-to-hate” actress. Normally, I get dragged into the trending topics just for sneezing. Let alone kicking a dog. In a flash, the hashtag skyrocketed to the number one spot on the entertainment charts. Haters flooded in, teaming up with outraged locals to hurl a tsunami of abuse at me. It escalated to the point where they were photoshopping gore and black-and-white memorial photos of me, cursing me to die. Soon enough, other celebrities jumped into the fray. Namely, my industry rival, Vanessa Blake. Vanessa was the current rising “It” girl. And she built that status by stepping on me. We had filmed a rustic farm-life reality show together, where she was edited to look hardworking and sweet, while I was portrayed as lazy and gluttonous. Vanessa posted a tweet: [Spreading love starts with me.] She attached a photo of herself volunteering at an animal rescue. It was a blatant jab at me. Sure enough, her fans flooded the replies, praising her for being beautiful inside and out—unlike some people with mean faces and toxic hearts. It sparked another massive wave of hate directed at me. Even as things reached this point, my manager was completely unfazed. It wasn’t that she considered me disposable. In fact, I was her only client and her biggest cash cow. She was calm because I got dragged online all the time. To her, this just meant another wave of free publicity. “As long as the Golden Retriever is fine, let them yell for a bit. We’ll post a cute selfie of you with the dog later, explain it was a misunderstanding, and this whole thing will blow over.” My manager had the entire PR strategy mapped out. She calmly sat beside me, snacking on sunflower seeds. That is, until someone on the internet discovered that this wasn’t just any dog. It was the beloved pet of the ultimate Manhattan billionaire heir. [Holy crap! That’s the Heir’s dog! Harper Evans is completely finished!] [Do you guys know how obsessed he is with that dog? An A-list starlet got blacklisted just because her perfume made that dog sneeze!] [Harper didn’t just irritate the dog; she literally kicked it. Being blacklisted is going to be the least of her worries.] [Tsk, karma always catches up. Grab your popcorn, let’s watch this toxic witch get destroyed.] My manager was no longer unfazed. She looked like the sky was falling. She immediately whipped around, dragged a suitcase out of the closet, and started frantically packing her things. “Maggie, what are you doing?” I asked curiously. “Packing so I can skip town! You think I’m going to sit here and wait for the apocalypse?” “Isn’t that an overreaction? All I did was kick that stupid mutt once.” Here is what actually happened: I was on location shooting promo photos yesterday. That stupid dog came out of nowhere and wouldn’t stop sticking to me. I didn’t want to see the person who owned it, so I nudged it away with my foot. I didn’t use any force at all. It dramatically threw itself into the ditch and played dead. It was just acting spoiled—that was its favorite trick. Because in the past, whenever it pulled that stunt, I would forgive it no matter what trouble it had caused. Too bad I wasn’t going to pamper it anymore. So, before it could react, I quickly slipped away. “Stupid mutt?! Are you actually calling the New York billionaire heir’s beloved pet a ‘stupid mutt’?!” Maggie looked like she was about to tear her hair out. Suddenly, her phone rang. She answered it with trembling hands. When she finally lowered the phone, all the color had drained from her face. “It’s over. We can’t run. The Heir is at our door.” Maggie had just received an offer for a reality show called Celebrity Kitchen. It was an A-list, top-tier variety show broadcasted entirely via live stream, boasting massive ratings. The guests they invited were usually Oscar winners and Grammy-level pop divas. Even though my name generated a lot of traffic, it was mostly trashy tabloid fame; I had no real prestigious work. I could never naturally land a resource this good. Normally, Maggie would have been over the moon. But now, she looked like she was attending a funeral. Because the biggest financial backer behind this show was none other than the Manhattan billionaire heir, Kingston Astor. This invitation felt exactly like walking into an execution. “Harper, reading between the lines… they made it clear that if you refuse, you’ll never book another job in this town again.” Maggie looked conflicted. “If you don’t go, you’re blacklisted. If you do go, he might make your life a living hell. Honestly, maybe you should just retire from showbiz?” I felt equally conflicted. I didn’t want to have anything to do with Kingston. But based on what I knew about him, his pride was carved into his bones. He seemed cold and difficult to approach, but he was a man of his word. Even though we had a bit of a dispute over the dog’s custody when we broke up, we generally parted on decent terms. Once the breakup was final, he wasn’t the type to stalk or exact petty revenge. So, inviting me to this show might have had nothing to do with him at all. Maybe the producers just wanted to exploit my current viral infamy for ratings? After all, my bad reputation was generating massive numbers. “Maggie, how much does the show pay?” She gave me a number. My eyes lit up. As expected of an A-list show, they threw cash around like water! To buy a giant mansion and retire early… I gritted my teeth. “Maggie, we’re taking the gig.” I officially announced my participation in Celebrity Kitchen. The internet was entirely filled with people gloating over my impending doom. [Isn’t the investor for Celebrity Kitchen the billionaire heir? He made a brief cameo in a video before. He’s incredibly hot. I must have replayed those few seconds a hundred times.] [Haha, seriously gorgeous. Plus, his dad is a Wall Street tycoon, his mom is a legendary director, his sister is an Oscar winner, and his older brother is a tech mogul. The ultimate heir.] [He might be hot, but his personality is supposedly ruthless, and he’s wildly protective of his own. Especially that dog. Remember the trending hashtag #ManRushesGoldenRetrieverToVetInTheRain? That man was the heir.] [Hahaha, Harper Evans is so dead. He invited her to Celebrity Kitchen just to torture her on live television, right?] [I was planning to go throw trash at her house, but since the billionaire heir is handling it, I’ll just sit back and enjoy the show.] Shortly after, Vanessa Blake also announced she was joining Celebrity Kitchen. Maggie rolled her eyes. “Is she a piece of gum on our shoe? We can’t shake her.” Vanessa’s fans, however, were ecstatic. Most of them were fiercely protective “mom” fans. And their ultimate dream son-in-law was the billionaire heir. Kingston had the looks, the pedigree, the competence—he was top-tier in every category. In their eyes, he was barely worthy of their perfect, fairy-like daughter. Furthermore, they had actually managed to dig up some “clues.” Once, the luxury SUV that picked Vanessa up from set belonged to Kingston. Not only that, but she had posted a photo of a Golden Retriever’s back on her Instagram. The dog looked remarkably like Kingston’s. Being allowed to walk his beloved dog obviously meant she had an intimate relationship with him. All signs pointed to the billionaire heir being the mysterious man backing their precious Vanessa! [Did the Heir personally invite her on the show?] [No way, no way! Is the Heir finally getting impatient and ready to go public?!] [He’s probably been dying to go public so he can openly dote on her. But because our girl wants to focus on her career, she made him keep it a secret. The Heir finally snapped, pulled her into his arms, and said: “Woman, I can’t hide you anymore.”] [Ahhh that narrative is so good, keep it coming!] Vanessa’s fanbase was partying like it was New Year’s Eve. And naturally, they didn’t forget to trample all over me in the process. [I heard a certain someone was also invited. The Heir and our girl are going to tag-team destroy her.] [Can’t wait to watch them beat the drowning dog.] [Hey, don’t insult dogs. That woman doesn’t even deserve the comparison.] Before long, Celebrity Kitchen began broadcasting. Maggie dropped me off at the live stream location. The show had strict rules: no managers and no assistants allowed on set. So Maggie had to say a tearful goodbye at the front gates. “If the producers try to torture you, just endure it for the sake of avoiding the breach-of-contract penalty.” She paused, then added, “But if it gets truly unbearable, I’ll sell my kidney to pay your buyout fee.” I felt a mix of exasperation and genuine warmth. I reached out and gave her a tight hug. “Don’t worry, Maggie. I’ll be fine.” The shooting location for this season was an expansive, rustic farmhouse estate in the Hudson Valley, full of vintage charm. After saying goodbye to Maggie, I walked in. There were five guests in total. Vanessa and I were the new additions. The other three were Oscar-winning actor Harrison Reed, pop diva Serena Cole, and the current teen heartthrob Liam Pierce. When I arrived, Vanessa, Serena, and Liam were already there. Vanessa had said something that made Serena giggle uncontrollably, and the way Liam looked at Vanessa was painfully tender. The moment I stepped inside, the atmosphere instantly froze. Liam and Vanessa in particular looked at me with open hostility. My chaotic fans had previously shipped me and Liam, editing romantic fan-cams of us. Liam, however, felt I was leeching off his popularity. Whenever we shared a stage, he stayed as far away from me as physically possible. He had even publicly expressed his disdain for me. Simultaneously, he was a massive simp for Vanessa. Sadly for him, Vanessa didn’t give him the time of day. I greeted Serena politely. Liam acted like he was terrified I would speak to him and immediately scurried to Vanessa’s other side. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. Who wants to talk to you anyway, you narcissist? Shortly after, the Oscar-winning actor arrived. “Sorry to keep everyone waiting! But I’m not the last one here. We have a mystery guest!” Harrison wasn’t just a guest; he effectively acted as the host, guiding the flow of the show. “Our guest is a big deal. He’s the youngest billionaire on the Forbes list… and this is his first ever reality show appearance…” Harrison knew exactly how to hype up the crowd, rattling off a string of impressive titles. At this point, both the guests and the viewers watching the live stream had their suspicions. Vanessa’s fans had completely taken over the live chat. [No way, no way! Is it really him? I thought he’d just make a cameo, but he’s actually a guest!] [He definitely came for Vanessa. Ah, he loves her so much, I totally approve of this marriage.] Harrison dragged out the suspense before finally dropping the name. “Let’s give a warm welcome to our mystery guest, Kingston Astor!” Honestly, the moment Harrison mentioned a mystery guest, I had a terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach. I kept a calm poker face, but inside I was panicking. No way, no way. Is Kingston actually participating in this show? Doesn’t that mean we’re going to be staring at each other all day? How awkward is it to be stuck with your ex? What the hell is he thinking? I held onto a sliver of hope, praying to every deity that it wasn’t him. Until Harrison said the name, and that tall, striking figure stepped onto the set. My last shred of hope shattered. Objectively, Kingston was breathtaking. He stood six-foot-two, with broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and incredibly long legs. Because his grandmother was European, he had a stunning mixed-heritage bone structure with deep-set features and pale amber eyes. Add to that his aura of cold, untouchable old money. Just standing there, he made the trendy teen heartthrob Liam look like a valet parking attendant. And he didn’t come alone. In his hand, he held the leash of a massive Golden Retriever. The Golden Retriever was bouncing out of its skin, barking enthusiastically in our direction. If Kingston hadn’t been gripping the leash so tightly, the dog would have charged right at us. Kingston swept his gaze toward our group, his deep eyes unreadable. Simultaneously, the live chat exploded. [Oh my god! The Heir brought his beloved dog to the show!] [He is SO hot. That face, that body, he’s basically a god. I’m drooling.] Vanessa’s fans chimed in right on cue: [Hey, wipe your mouths, the Heir belongs to our girl.] [Wait, bringing the dog to the show… he’s letting the dog exact its own revenge!] [Looks like the Heir is legitimately furious. Look at that Golden Retriever barking at them, it must despise that toxic witch. Grab your popcorn, the show is about to start!] When Kingston appeared, whether it was due to his freezing aura or the wildly barking dog, no one spoke. The silence was deafening. “What an adorable dog! Can I pet him?” Vanessa finally broke the ice. [Hehe, our girl’s acting is so good. She’s obviously walked the dog before, but she’s pretending this is their first meeting.] [She’s definitely super close with the Golden Retriever. Watch it pounce on her the second she gets close.] [Oh man, is their secret romance about to be exposed?!] [Bold theory: The Heir did this on purpose. This man is so calculating.] [Manipulative mastermind boyfriend, hehe, I love this dynamic.] Vanessa walked toward Kingston, looking at the Golden Retriever with overflowing affection, and reached out a hand to pet it. I watched with cold indifference. I had to admit, Vanessa was a spectacular actress. Previously, when we filmed the farm-life show, the host family owned a dog. Vanessa absolutely despised it and threw a tantrum until the dog was banished to a locked vegetable garden. I used to sneak it leftover bones. When the show aired, the editing team twisted the narrative entirely. They made it look like I was the diva who demanded the dog be locked up, and framed Vanessa as the sweet angel sneaking it food. However, this stupid dog was just as neurotic and elitist as its owner. Furthermore, it was highly intelligent—practically psychic. It knew exactly who actually liked it and who didn’t. Vanessa was about to kick a steel plate… Sure enough, the stupid dog violently leaped backward. Its canine face practically spelled out the words: Don’t touch me, peasant. Then, it furiously kicked its hind legs, launching a fistful of dirt straight into Vanessa’s face. The set fell dead silent.

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