Category: English

Discovering my husband’s affair was actually a small matter. I was at a parking lot with my best friend, Rachel, checking out a high-end maternity care center, when I spotted his car. I walked to the front desk: “Excuse me, could you check if my husband, Ryan Walker, has an appointment here today?” Soon, the receptionist looked up: “I’m sorry, ma’am, we cannot disclose client appointment information.” My heart tightened. Can’t disclose? That meant he really was here. Rachel stared at the black Mercedes in confusion. “Didn’t Ryan say he was on a business trip? Why is his car here?” Yes. He left on a business trip last night, saying he’d be back by evening to celebrate my birthday. I pulled up his number and called. —Ring—Ring—Ring— No answer. I checked the time: 11:30. “Forget it, let’s just go up.” This maternity care center was located above the city’s most expensive private women’s hospital. It operated on a strict members-only appointment system, specializing in pre-pregnancy care, pregnancy support, and postpartum recovery. I was three months pregnant. Rachel originally wanted to bring me here to check out the place for my birthday. The elevator doors opened, and the receptionist greeted us with a practiced smile: “Hello, ma’am. Do you have an appointment?” “Yes, under Anna—” “No.” I pulled my friend back behind me: “It’s under my husband’s name, Ryan Walker.” The staff member paused, then looked down at her computer. Then she looked up: “I’m sorry, ma’am. Due to client privacy, I cannot confirm specific appointment details with you.” My heart tightened. Can’t disclose? That meant he really was here.

Rachel looked at me with concern. She understood immediately. A man who claimed to be on a business trip out of town suddenly appearing at a high-end maternity care center. He couldn’t possibly be here for a business meeting. I took a deep breath and looked at the young woman in front of me: “Here’s the situation. My husband mentioned he wanted to look into pregnancy packages for me and asked me to come today to register family information. I’m a bit tired now and would like to sit in the waiting room for a while.” The staff member maintained her smile: “I’m sorry, ma’am. Without appointment confirmation, we cannot escort you into the client area at this time.” I nodded: “I understand. Could you please call him to confirm? Just tell him a Ms. Nichols is here and ask if he can come out to meet me.” The staff member hesitated for two seconds: “May I have your surname?” “My surname is Nichols. My husband’s name is Ryan Walker.” She entered the information into the system to search, then picked up the internal line. My heart jumped to my throat. “Hello, Mr. Walker. This is the front desk. A Ms. Nichols is here, saying she’s come to register family information for the package you inquired about. Would you be available to come out to meet her?” There was a long pause on the other end. “What did you say?” The staff member turned to me: “Ma’am, may I have your full name?” “Emma Nichols.” “Alright.” She spoke into the receiver again: “A woman named Emma Nichols is at the front desk. Would you be available to come out?” One second. Two seconds. Just when I thought he’d hung up, a response finally came from the other end: “I’ll be right there.” The call ended. The staff member gave a professional smile: “Ms. Nichols, you may wait in the lounge area.” I barely managed to stay standing by gripping Rachel’s arm. He really was… here. But for now, I only knew he was at this maternity center. I didn’t know who he came with. The staff wouldn’t tell me. That was private information. Ironic, wasn’t it? The rules protected his privacy while he accompanied another woman to look at postpartum suites, but wouldn’t give his own wife a heads-up. My phone lit up. It was a call from Ryan. I watched his name flashing on the screen and pressed decline. Soon, my phone vibrated again. “Emma, the company suddenly arranged for me to discuss a collaboration here. You guys look around, I’ll be right down.” “What did Ryan say?” I turned my screen toward Rachel. She glanced at it, and two words squeezed through her teeth: “Bastard.” “How shameless can he be?” She stared at me, her eyes redder than mine: “But we still don’t know who he came with.” I glanced at the warm yellow lighting in the center and the rows of pamphlets as polished as showroom displays, then took a deep breath: “Who says I’m going to ask now?” “Then what are you—” “Wait for him to come.”

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The night before my wedding, my fiancé and I went to try on wedding dresses. The legendary store owner, Sophia—who had studied abroad but never showed her face—personally attended to us. When I saw her in person, I didn’t miss the flash of shock on my fiancé Julian’s face. Sophia brought over a wedding dress I hadn’t selected, her smile ambiguous. “This one was designed by me and my first love together. You and I have similar profiles and figures—it’ll look stunning on you.” I said nothing and took it into the fitting room. It did look stunning. When I pulled back the curtain, Julian was deep in intimate conversation with Sophia, their posture suggestive. I asked him, “Does it look good?” He jerked his head toward Sophia, his eyes reddening, visibly losing his composure—a rare sight. The woman looked understanding. “It’s understandable that Mr. Walker lost his composure for a moment.” I smiled and walked out. “Probably because the one wearing this wedding dress isn’t you, his first love.” Then I turned to Julian. “You’ve seen me in a wedding dress now. Let’s break up.”

Dead silence. I suppressed my smile and repeated myself. “Why?” Julian finally snapped out of it. I opened my mouth to speak, but Sophia beat me to it, her voice thick with tears. “Miss Rivers, this is my proudest creation. I just thought it would suit you. If you don’t like it, you can say so directly. There’s no need to slander others!” “Julian and I are in the past. I have nothing but blessings for you two, truly.” Her tears fell in steady drops. A flash of heartache crossed Julian’s face. He instinctively reached out, then froze mid-air. He strode forward and gripped my shoulders. “Just because of this wedding dress?” “We’re about to get married. You’d better not make a scene over nothing.” The words stuck in my throat, making it tight. I pulled a stack of photos from my bag and thrust them at him. “Look carefully! Who’s the one making a scene?” My chest filled with dense, stabbing pain. I had always thought Julian was my soulmate. Until three months ago, when I started receiving photos of him with a strange woman—all angles, intimately close. The times and locations all matched Julian’s schedule perfectly. The woman in the photos bore a sixty percent resemblance to me, becoming a thorn lodged in my heart. I tossed and turned at night, my emotions drowning me like waves. When I met Sophia, everything became clear. Why Julian loved taking profile photos of me, why he liked me in bright colors. First love and substitute. He didn’t even look. He snatched the photos away and scattered them. As the photos fluttered down, he said, “She and I…” “Undying first love! Rekindled romance! Need me to help you remember?” I interrupted loudly, blinking to force the tears back. Sophia’s sobbing grew louder. Julian shouted, “Enough! Did you come here just to cause trouble?!” The overwhelming sense of grievance stuck in my throat. I shoved him hard and strode away. But the next second, my wrist was gripped tightly. Julian yanked me back into the fitting room, his tone forceful. “It’s raining. This fabric can’t get wet. Change out of it!” I looked down at the wedding dress, unable to hold back the tears that filled my eyes. Right—it was designed with the woman he loved, so even after ten years, he remembered every detail of the fabric clearly. A deliberately lowered voice drifted through the curtain. I peered through the gap. Julian had his back to me, his shoulders trembling. “Why did you bring out that dress? It was clearly…” Sophia cut him off, her eyes red. “Because it’s time to let go. Julian, we shouldn’t contact each other anymore.” “I never wanted to interfere with your relationship. As long as you’re happy, I don’t mind losing you again.” He pulled her into his arms. She struggled, but he held her tighter. Sophia looked up, shot me a provocative smile, then buried her head in the man’s neck. A sharp pain pierced my heart. I suddenly couldn’t breathe. Every expression on that face reminded me— I was a fake. I couldn’t control my tears anymore. I grabbed my bag and ran out. Julian caught up from behind and forcibly pulled me into the car. He wiped the rain from his face, started the engine, then reached over to hold my hand. “Vivian, we’re about to get married. Stop being paranoid.” “Sophia and I aren’t as sordid as you think.” The next second, his phone rang. The hand holding mine instantly withdrew. “Julian, the wedding dress is torn. It was deliberate…” Sophia’s tearful voice filled the car. The car jerked to a stop. “Don’t cry. I’m coming back now.” He looked at me, his eyes filled with disgust and indifference. “Using such despicable tactics. Get out.” I met his gaze stubbornly. “The innocent have nothing to fear. Check the surveillance footage and you’ll know.” “I said get out!” I stood in the rain, watching him scan the car interior before finally unbuttoning and tossing his suit jacket at me. “No umbrella. Make do with this.” Then with a roar, he disappeared into the rain. Tears mixed with rainwater splattered on my phone screen, which displayed a message about starting work in a week. Without hesitation, I accepted and booked a flight to San Francisco.

I walked home through the rain. My phone buzzed. My special follow had posted an update. It was Sophia. I had traced her account months ago but never had the courage to ask anything. I’d been secretly following her for three months. Her latest post showed just one image— A small asteroid named Sophia. Caption: Whose stars am I? Julian’s first comment: Mine. I stared until my eyes stung. The night he proposed successfully, Julian took me to a mountaintop to watch the stars for three hours. How fortunate I thought I was—a CEO worth millions per minute willing to waste time with me. Tears dripped onto the screen, making the little asteroid shine even brighter. So he’d been reminiscing about her all along. Julian, when you gazed at the stars, did you ever think about whose hand you were holding? I hadn’t eaten or drunk anything all day. My stomach suddenly cramped. The pain made me break out in cold sweat. I stumbled up to find medicine. After joining the company, I was determined to catch up to Julian. To close deals, I could drink through three to five business dinners for one contract. That’s how I ruined my stomach. I picked up a box—empty. They were all empty. My face pale, I curled up on the bed and gradually lost consciousness. When I woke, my forehead was pressed against Julian’s chest. His breathing was steady, his arm around my chest, naturally holding me close. My eyes stung a bit. I blinked to force the tears back. I sat up. Don’t let me keep misunderstanding. Misunderstanding that you, holding me so tightly, actually love me. The movement woke Julian. He rubbed his eyes and sat up. “You’re awake? You got caught in the rain today. Let me get you some hot water.” He brought the cup to feed me, but I turned my face away and choked out the words. “We’ve already broken up.” “How long are you going to keep this up?!” Julian’s expression changed. He slammed the cup heavily on the table. “I told you, she and I aren’t what you think. The wedding dress—if you don’t like it, we’ll change it. Besides, you already ruined that one!” I laughed coldly. “You convict people without evidence?” “You don’t need to deny it. Sophia doesn’t plan to hold you responsible or even make you apologize.” Tears streamed down my face. “I don’t want to hear anything about her. I said we’re breaking up! I told you before—if you ever fell in love with someone else, I would hate you.” Julian reached out to wipe my tears and sighed. “Vivian, you’re wrong. I loved Sophia first. You’re the one who came later. Are you going to hate yourself?” “But none of that matters. I told you I’d marry you. Stop being childish, okay?” “You love Sophia so much—go marry her! Sleep beside her every night!” “Get out! We’ve broken up. This is my home. Get out!” I knocked his hand away and pushed him toward the door. He personally tore away the last shred of dignity, voiding all the promises he’d made. True Sophia had arrived, and I, this cicada, should obediently die immediately. Julian watched calmly as I lost control, then sneered. “Your home? Vivian, everything you have now—which part didn’t I give you? I even funded your college education.” “How is it that after all these years, you still haven’t learned to use your pride in the right place? You always act like you don’t need me!” His eyes reddened as he spoke through gritted teeth. “Since you don’t need it, I’ll take it all back.” Like being slapped across the face, tears rolled down in fat drops. I bit my lip hard to keep silent. From the very beginning, I was just a poor student he kindly sponsored. I couldn’t refute that. But standing shoulder to shoulder with him now was something I fought for through more than a thousand grueling days and nights. The self-respect I desperately protected was trampled underfoot. His casual words knocked me back to my original wretched state. Do people always need to bleed something from their bodies to dilute the pain? My stomach churned. Tears mixed with vomit fell into the trash can. The sound of the door slamming made my heart go numb. My phone vibrated repeatedly. Sophia had followed me back and sent a message asking to meet. With shaking hands, I replied “okay,” then listed both the house and car for sale. Everything I’d saved from years of desperate work. Julian, I’m giving it all back to you.

Sophia asked to meet at a coffee shop. “Did you come here to humiliate me?” I sat down expressionlessly. “Did you offer yourself up for humiliation?” Her aura was completely different from when she was around Julian. I caught sight of her phone’s lock screen—a photo of them together. At an amusement park, she and Julian laughing wildly at the camera. I’d never seen Julian laugh so freely. Then my gaze dropped to his wrist, and my psychological defenses completely collapsed. Sophia followed my gaze, triumphant. “That’s from the amusement park today—I randomly gave him that freebie. He loves it.” When we were dating, I once gave Julian a men’s watch, spending all my savings. He politely declined, raising an eyebrow with a smile. “I never wear watches. I have all the time in the world.” Now that cheap trinket on his wrist reached across time and space to slap me hard. So, Julian—does your time only flow for her? I suppressed the bitterness inside and said nothing. “Vivian Rivers, you know better than anyone that you’re not worthy of Julian. If I hadn’t gone abroad back then, this marriage would never have been your turn.” She laughed lightly. “Leaving him to pursue my dreams abroad is my biggest regret. You wouldn’t understand. When Julian and I were dating, you were still following your mom around looking for a new husband.” Before my brain could react, my hand had already raised the coffee and splashed it at her. Sophia screamed. I trembled all over, hurt and angry. I’d grown up in a single-parent home. My mom had been trying to remarry. Julian had even told her that. I shot to my feet and left without looking back. She was right—I really did offer myself up for humiliation. But walking aimlessly down the street, when the evening breeze blew, my eyes couldn’t help but moisten again. Julian, who am I to you? My phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. Julian’s messages were pinned at the top. He sent me an image—him leaning against the headboard smoking, Sophia sleeping peacefully in his arms. Even though I was mentally prepared, my breath still caught when I opened it. The next message read: “As you wished.” Eyes red, I replied “Congratulations.” After sending it, the screen showed “typing” intermittently. My phone kept buzzing. I stared at the chat screen. After a long while, he replied: “Since you don’t need me, handle the online situation yourself.” Online? Thinking of something, I immediately opened Sophia’s profile. Sure enough, her latest post showed her covered in coffee. In a few words, she painted herself as the rightful partner being provoked by a mistress. As a famous designer with a massive fanbase, her followers automatically charged into battle for her. Following the clues she provided, they quickly traced everything back to me. My inbox filled with all kinds of vile insults. I wiped the tears from my face and laughed bitterly. Julian, do you really not want to deal with this, or do you just feel sorry for her? I unpinned Julian from the top of my contacts and canceled all the pre-booked wedding services one by one. The wind lifted my hair. I repeated to myself mentally— Vivian, don’t look back. I sold both the house and car at urgent prices. The final payment would hit my account next week. I stood downstairs from the company and took a deep breath. Now—time to resign. But as soon as I entered the company, various stares stuck to me. “She still has the nerve to show up? Guess the people online didn’t curse her hard enough.” “I said all along she wasn’t innocent—always throwing herself at Mr. Walker. Turns out she wanted to be a homewrecker.” The mockery drowned me. I clenched my fists hard. Julian and I had dated for five years, but to avoid affecting work, we never went public. Now it had become a boomerang stuck in my back. “Vivian, the Marketing Director’s surname is now Sophia.” My colleague pointed. “Your workstation is over there.” I looked over. All my things were piled messily in the corner. And the position I’d fought five years to earn now belonged to Sophia. To please his first love, I had to hand over my life’s work with both hands. I told myself it was fine—at least I didn’t need Julian’s signature to resign anymore. I looked away and crouched down to organize my things bit by bit. Scattered laughter rang out. When I looked up, Julian stood not far away, his expression dark. He still wore that freebie on his wrist. I turned my face away. “Vivian, pack up and come sign a contract with me.” Consider it the final punctuation mark—one last work handover.

When I got in the car, Julian was teaching Sophia. How to grasp market trends, the company’s product advantages… Things I’d never heard from him. He explained everything point by point on the computer, very professionally. I used to look at him with the same admiration Sophia now showed, watching him so spirited and accomplished. Then I vowed in my heart—I would become someone like Julian. The wedding ring on his ring finger hurt my eyes. I looked away and turned toward the window. Through the rearview mirror, our eyes met. I lowered my gaze. I don’t want to become someone like Julian. Finally we arrived at the private room. When I saw who was there, my expression immediately changed. I stared hard at Julian, asking in disbelief. “Why are people from Sterling Group here?! This project belongs to Huarui!” I’d worked overtime for three months to finally land this tough account. If the collaboration went smoothly, Walker Corporation’s year-end profits would rise two percentage points. Sterling Group had been declining for years. They couldn’t handle a project this large, and Sterling had always been at odds with Walker Corporation. “I proactively canceled the partnership,” he said. “Sterling Group needs this project more.” Slap! I trembled with rage. Julian turned his head, running his tongue over the inside of his cheek. He grabbed the hand I’d hit him with, his voice low. “You said it yourself—you joined Walker Corporation to repay your debt. This is what you owe me too.” The impact didn’t register. My hand shook until it went numb, the numbness spreading all the way to my heart. I stared into his eyes and couldn’t help but laugh. Taking my life’s work to pave the way for Sophia—he was so naturally good at it. I pulled my hand free. “Fine.” I turned and entered the private room. I saw Sophia give a look to Ms. Sterling across from her. The man immediately raised his glass and walked over to me. ” Ms. Rivers, I’ve heard so much about you. It’s an honor to work together. I’ll drink it all—you do as you please.” He drained his glass in one go. The other two men followed suit. Julian was about to speak when Sophia immediately clung to his arm. “Julian, when we broke up before, my father felt so guilty.” Julian fell silent. Ms. Sterling laughed heartily. “Julian, once you marry my dear daughter, Sterling and Walker will be like family.” Julian tapped his phone a few times, then leaned over to whisper in my ear. “Don’t worry. I had someone go buy hangover medicine.” He sat up straight and filled my glass, not daring to meet my eyes. The high-proof liquor’s scent shot straight to the top of my head. I didn’t look at him. I picked up the glass and drained it. A round of cheers. ” Ms. Rivers can really drink!” An irrepressible nausea surged from my stomach. I suppressed it hard. One glass, two glasses… Soon the bottle was empty. A strong burning sensation came from my stomach, constantly spasming. Each time felt like the pain of near-death. I gasped weakly and rapidly, my face drained of color. Julian suddenly pressed down on my hand, hissing under his breath. “Stop drinking!” I shook off his hand and tilted my head back to pour it down. A sweet fishy taste surged up my throat. I grunted and vomited a large mouthful of blood. “Vivian!” The world became very quiet. I stared down at that pool of blood, actually feeling relieved. Julian, I don’t owe you anymore. When I woke, I was in a hospital room. Cold liquid entered my body through an IV. Cold. Julian heard the noise and jerked his head up. His eyes were red. “You’re finally awake. You scared me to death.” I didn’t speak. He hesitated. “Rest well. Sophia was frightened tonight. I’m going back to stay with her. I’ll come see you tomorrow.” I stared quietly at the ceiling. Sleep peacefully. From now on, you won’t wake up next to this fake anymore. … Julian got up early the next morning to make oatmeal. He carried the thermos toward the hospital room but was stopped by a nurse. “Excuse me, sir, there’s no patient in the VIP room now.” He turned around. “The woman with stomach bleeding from last night.” “That lady checked out last night.” How is that possible? Julian rushed forward and pushed open the door. Clean—no trace that anyone had been there. The thermos crashed to the floor.

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I traded three years of my life to buy a lifesaving miracle drug from a black market doctor, only to have my fiancé Ethan North casually feed it to his first love when she twisted her ankle. “Vanessa’s foot is badly swollen. She needs it for the pain and swelling. You’re healthy—you can tough it out for a few days.” He slapped the contract terminating our engagement in my face, wiped his fingers, and walked away. He drove off in his sports car with his precious first love in his arms, not even glancing at the blood I’d coughed into my handkerchief. No one knew that this pill was my only chance to survive my congenital heart disease. I clutched the contract and wiped the blood from my lips. That very night, I drove to the North family ancestral estate and knocked on the iron gates that hadn’t opened in ten years. Behind those gates lived the true power of the North family—Damien North, Ethan’s uncle who had been in seclusion for years. The next day at the North family banquet, Ethan walked in with Vanessa on his arm, publicly announcing he would marry her while mocking me for not knowing my place. The whole room was in an uproar. Everyone waited to see me humiliated. Then Damien walked in holding my hand, pulled me tightly into his arms, and looked at Ethan with dark, menacing eyes: “Ethan, come here and greet Emily, my wife.”

“Vanessa caught a cold. She needs this to recover. You have a strong constitution—you’ll get through this.” Ethan’s voice was colder than the December wind. That vial of Western medicine I’d desperately acquired through black market connections was now being mixed into a supplement and placed before Vanessa Reed. Vanessa leaned against Ethan’s chest, coughing delicately twice, though triumph flashed in her eyes: “Ethan, is Emily upset?” “She wouldn’t dare.” Ethan’s eyes turned ice cold. “If your father hadn’t forced mine into this engagement years ago with that port shipping deal, I would never have gotten involved with you, Emily. Vanessa is using one of your medications, and you dare to sulk?” I stared at that dessert, a metallic sweetness rising in my throat. He didn’t know that vial was the only medicine that could cure my heart disease. Without it, I wouldn’t survive the winter. “Ethan, that’s my life,” I said hoarsely. “Enough.” He threw the termination papers in my face. The sharp edge of the paper cut my eye. “I’ve had enough of these three years. Now that Vanessa is carrying the North family heir, it’s time for you to step aside.” The termination papers fluttered to the ground. I didn’t cry or make a scene. I bent down to pick up that paper and swallowed back the blood that had risen to my throat. “Fine.” I turned and walked into the snow. Three years. I’d taken assassination attempts meant for him, helped him quell internal company revolts, and carved a bloody path through the cutthroat family power struggles. In the end, it couldn’t compare to one cough from his first love. The night was black as ink, the snow sharp as knives. I didn’t return to the Sterling family estate. I drove straight to the most secluded private manor in the North family’s holdings. The true head of the North family—the ruthless Damien North, who’d been recovering there for six months—lived in that place. I knelt at the manor gates and pulled out the bloodstained seal representing the highest authority in the North family. “Emily Sterling requests an audience with Mr. North.” The cold wind swallowed my voice. The iron gates remained shut, silent as a tomb. I don’t know how long passed before the heavy gates let out a low groan and slowly opened. The old butler, Harold, approached with a lantern. When he saw the seal in my palm, his pupils contracted sharply. “Miss Sterling, the master will see you.” Inside, there was no incense—only the smell of antiseptic and bitter medicine. From behind dark curtains came a low, hoarse laugh that carried endless authority. “You’ve finally come.” I knelt on the ground, holding the termination papers high above my head. “Emily Sterling has been cast aside by Ethan North. I have nowhere else to turn. Does the promise you made years ago still stand?” A pale, broad hand suddenly pulled back the curtains. Damien wore loose dark silk robes, his chest wrapped in bloodstained bandages. He leaned down, his ice-cold fingers gripping my chin. “What do you want?” I looked directly into those terrifying eyes. “I want the most honored position in the North family. I want those who trampled on me to spend the rest of their lives fit only to kneel at my feet.” Damien stared at me for a long moment, then began to laugh—a low laugh that made his chest shake. “What an ambitious woman.” He pulled me roughly into his arms. The scent of blood and sandalwood immediately enveloped me. “As you wish.”

The next day, in the council hall of the North family manor. The core family members and directors from major branch companies gathered. The atmosphere was tense. Ethan strode to the center of the hall in a sharp suit, full of confidence, leading the elaborately dressed Vanessa by the hand. “Everyone, Emily Sterling is consumed by jealousy. I have officially terminated our engagement. Vanessa Reed is gentle and virtuous, and she carries the North family heir. Today, I will take her as my wife.” The room erupted. The Sterling and North families were old allies. My father controlled half the world’s port shipping operations. Ethan’s actions amounted to burning bridges, but he didn’t care at all. Damien had been bedridden for years. The North family was already his domain. Vanessa lowered her head, unable to hide the wild joy at the corners of her mouth. Just then, from the main seat that had always sat empty, came a light, cold snort. “Did you ask my permission before terminating this engagement?” The voice wasn’t loud, but it struck like thunder. The hall fell instantly silent. Ethan froze for a moment, then perfunctorily bowed toward the main seat: “Damien, you’ve been unwell. I didn’t dare disturb you with private matters. Besides, Emily—” “How dare you.” The coffee cup from the main seat was hurled violently at Ethan’s feet. Shattered porcelain flew up, cutting Vanessa’s cheek. She screamed and collapsed to the ground. Ethan stumbled back a step. “Damien, please calm down.” “Mutual affection?” Damien’s voice carried bone-chilling mockery. “What wonderful mutual affection.” The screen was slowly pushed aside. Damien wasn’t wearing casual clothes, but a somber black custom-tailored suit. What made everyone’s eyes nearly pop from their sockets—there was a woman standing beside him. A dark red gown. Around her neck, the pigeon blood ruby necklace passed down through generations of North family matriarchs. It was me. I looked down at the two people in the hall as if they were insects. Ethan’s head snapped up. The moment he recognized me, his features twisted with extreme shock. “Emily?! Are you insane?! Get down here right now!” He roared instinctively, forgetting who sat in the main seat. Damien’s eyes darkened. His large hand gripped my waist and pressed me firmly against him. “You insolent fool. Is this how you speak to Emily?” *Boom*—those words struck like lightning. Ethan froze in place, his lips trembling violently, unable to utter a single word. Vanessa forgot to cry, collapsing like mud on the ground. Damien surveyed the room, his authority crushing as a mountain: “Emily is my wife. From today forward, she will manage all family affairs.” His gaze coiled around Ethan like a venomous snake, his lips curling into a cruel arc. “Ethan, come here and greet Emily.” Ethan stared at me, his eyes full of humiliation and resentment. Vanessa was already terrified out of her wits. She scrambled to her feet and bowed: “Hello, Emily! Hello, Emily!” I didn’t look at her. I only stared quietly at Ethan. “What’s the matter? Have you forgotten even the most basic manners?” My voice was soft, but each word cut deep. Ethan’s fists clenched tight, his nails piercing his palms. Blood dripped to the floor. Under Damien’s gaze that looked ready to devour him alive, he finally bent his proud spine. “Emily.” Each word sounded like he was chewing up flesh and blood and spitting it out. I watched his humble posture, my lips slowly curving upward. Ethan North, the gates of hell have only just opened.

Damien mobilized nearly all his connections just to give me a wedding that would shake the entire city. I sat in the main hall of the North estate, my fingers lightly tapping the redwood armrest. For three years, I’d worn no makeup and used all the Sterling family’s resources and connections to pave the way for Ethan. Now, a single diamond bracelet on my wrist was worth more than his trading company’s annual revenue. “Madam, Ethan North and Vanessa Reed are here,” the housekeeper Mrs. Harris said quietly. I raised my eyelids slightly. “Let them in.” The two entered one after the other. Ethan’s eyes were bloodshot, his expression dark and menacing. Vanessa was trembling like a frightened sparrow. “Emily,” Ethan said stiffly, lowering his head slightly. “Hello, Emily,” Vanessa echoed with a bow. I didn’t respond. I picked up my porcelain coffee cup. The hall was deathly silent except for the crisp sound of the lid tapping against the cup, each sound striking their nerves. After a long while, Ethan—who’d been pampered since childhood—couldn’t endure this cold treatment. His breathing grew heavier. “If you have no other instructions, I’ll take my leave,” he said through gritted teeth, barely suppressing his rage. I set down my coffee cup and let out a laugh. “What’s the rush? I’ve just taken charge of household affairs. There are some rules I need to teach Miss Reed properly.” I looked at Vanessa like a blade: “Miss Reed, do you know your mistake?” She trembled all over and bowed deeply: “I don’t know what I did wrong. Please enlighten me, Emily.” “You don’t know?” I stood and walked toward her step by step. “Yesterday at the family shrine, you—an unmarried woman—dared to wear a crimson gold-embroidered dress and stand side by side with Ethan. Where did you place the North family rules? Where did you place me?” Vanessa’s face went deathly pale. “Emily, please understand. Ethan gave me that dress—” “Ethan gave it to you, so you dared to wear it?” I looked at her coldly. “Do you have no concept of hierarchy? Someone come. Miss Reed doesn’t understand the rules. Slap her face.” Two burly servants stepped forward and pinned Vanessa down on either side. Ethan stepped forward to shield her, glaring at me: “Emily! Don’t go too far! Vanessa is pregnant. She can’t take this!” I looked at his enraged face, my heart completely unmoved. “Ethan North, what did you just call me?” He choked, his face flushing red. “I am Damien North’s legally wedded wife. You called me by my first name—are you disrespecting Damien, or are you disrespecting the North family rules?” I stepped closer, staring at him coldly. “Since you feel so sorry for Miss Reed, you can take her punishment.” Ethan looked at me in disbelief. “You dare hit me?” “Why wouldn’t I dare discipline you?” I waved my hand. Guards flooded in and surrounded Ethan completely. Vanessa threw herself at his legs, crying: “Emily, please calm down! It’s my fault. I’ll accept the punishment. Please don’t hit him!” She cried pitifully. Ethan protectively shielded her: “Vanessa, don’t be afraid. As long as I’m here, no one can touch you.” Watching this touching display of devotion made me sick. Years ago, when I’d taken a bullet meant for him and nearly died from infection and three days of high fever, he’d been accompanying Vanessa to the opera. “What a touching performance.” I sneered. “Since Miss Reed is so understanding, let’s grant her wish. Do it.” *Crack!* The crisp slap echoed. Vanessa screamed continuously. Her lip split open, blood pouring out. The guards held Ethan down while he watched helplessly as his beloved woman was punished. His eyes turned blood red as he roared: “Emily! You vicious woman! I will never let this go!” I looked down at his impotent rage with utter contempt. “I look forward to it.”

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The day my parents got divorced, I pushed away my loving mother and clung desperately to my cheating scumbag father’s leg. In my previous life, I chose my mother without hesitation. But because the family wouldn’t accept me, I dragged her down to a lifetime of scorn and suffering. This lifetime, looking at my mother Diana Smith’s heartbroken eyes, I left without looking back. Five years later, I was gutting fish in a damp, stinking seafood market to make ends meet. As I skillfully sliced open a dead fish’s belly. My mother walked over in high heels, carefully avoiding the dirty water on the ground. She covered her nose in disgust, looking at my filthy clothes with a cold laugh: “That disgusting fish stench that won’t wash off—is this the result of abandoning me back then?” “The crazy billionaire heir of the Godfrey family wants to form a marriage alliance with us now.” “As long as you kneel and beg me, I’ll let you live the good life. How about that?” “You know I always mean what I say.” Hearing the disdain in her words, I swallowed the bloody taste in my throat and put on a cheeky smile as I moved closer: “Not only will I not kneel, but you have to kiss me first.” Even just once would be enough to get me through the remaining month.

“Quinn Hart, my patience is limited. You’d better quit while you’re ahead.” My mother spoke coldly. I didn’t budge, staring straight at her. This might be my last chance to be this close to her. I leaned my face even closer. Her brow furrowed, a flash of offended anger in her eyes. She raised her hand as if to slap me away, but eventually lowered her arm. We were locked in a standoff for a full minute. The housewives around us shopping for groceries gathered to watch. Unable to stand the onlookers’ gazes, my mother compromised. Her eyes swept over my face covered in fish scales: “Too dirty. Go wash your face clean.” A surge of secret joy rose in my heart, though I kept my shameless, carefree expression on the surface. I rinsed the grime off my face and brought it close to hers again. “All clean now, Miss Smith—please inspect.” She closed her eyes, held her breath, and touched my cheek extremely quickly. Then her face turned completely cold as she turned to leave: “Follow me.” As we walked out of the market, the butcher from the neighboring stall poked his head out. “Quinn, closing up early today?” “Who’s this rich lady? Here to buy fish from you?” I waved at him. “Not doing this anymore—off to be a rich kid now.” “Uncle, the leftover fish are yours!” Diana, walking ahead, paused in her steps, the coldness on her face deepening. She sneered: “Five years apart, and you’ve completely fallen into a money pit.” “Back then when you followed that good father of yours, I thought you two could accomplish something earth-shattering.” I didn’t argue back, obediently following her into the Rolls-Royce parked by the roadside. The car’s interior was filled with a faint woody fragrance. My mother leaned back in the passenger seat, her gaze passing over me to look out the window. In a flat tone, she began describing her current status: “I’ve acquired basically all the competing companies on the market.” “Even if you worked your whole life, you couldn’t earn what I make in interest in a single day.” But she didn’t mention a word about how she’d reached this point over the past five years. I knew how much scorn we’d endured in the family in my previous life. Looking at her exquisite but exhausted profile, I felt genuinely happy for her. She finally didn’t have to relive the misery of her previous life. When she finished, I calmly replied: “Oh.” That single flippant word infuriated her. She whipped her head around, staring at me hard. “I shouldn’t have had any expectations of you.” “You’re hopeless mud that can’t stick to a wall—not a single brain cell in your head.” The pressure in the car plummeted. She turned away, showing me the back of her head, completely refusing to communicate. After the car drove for a while, I broke the stalemate: “What’s the marriage partner’s name? I should at least know who my meal ticket is, right?” “In case it’s some seventy or eighty-year-old geezer, I need to prepare quick-acting heart pills in advance.” She kept her eyes closed, not even wanting to look at me: “Caspian Godfrey. Around your age.” I froze instantly, my heartbeat skipping. Caspian Godfrey? Wasn’t that my ex’s name?

No, it had to be an illusion or someone with the same name. Back when we were together, he was just an ordinary medical student. How could he be the heir of the Godfrey family? I leaned back in my seat, my mind buzzing. The car smoothly entered a luxurious hillside estate. When my mother led me into the main hall, quite a few people had already gathered inside. Elegant piano music echoed through the air. I recognized several familiar faces at a glance. Those relatives who had mocked and even kicked us when we were down in my previous life. Now they all fawned around her, having become her subordinates. When their gazes fell on my hoodie reeking of fish, they didn’t bother hiding the contempt and mockery in their eyes. My aunt Linda covered her nose and exaggeratedly stepped back two paces. “Diana, is this that girl of yours who followed her gambling deadbeat father?” “That smell on her could knock someone out.” “Anyone who didn’t know better would think some beggar broke in here.” My mother looked at me sideways. I knew she wanted to see self-consciousness and shame on my face. Even tears of regret for not choosing her back then. Since she wanted to see it, I’d play along. I looked around awkwardly, like a clueless clown, and moved closer to Linda. Linda’s face paled in fright as she kept backing away: “Go, go, go! So filthy! Don’t touch my clothes—you can’t afford to pay for them!” My mother watched my actions, the disgust in her eyes deepening. She looked away, the corners of her mouth lifting in a smile of satisfied revenge. “Take her upstairs.” After giving instructions to a nearby servant, my mother turned to socialize. I was left alone in a spacious guest room on the second floor. The servant pointed to the dress on the bed and said expressionlessly: “Madam wants you to clean yourself up and change into new clothes.” After the door closed, I let out a long breath. Walking to the mirror, I pulled off my hoodie. My skin was covered with wounds of all sizes. These were marks left from five years of struggling at the bottom with my scumbag father. When he got drunk, he’d get violent, and I could only endure it. I walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Warm water washed over my exhausted body, taking away the fishy smell. Just then, a sharp pain pierced through the depths of my mind. I bent over in agony, my hands gripping the edge of the sink. My vision began to blur. A strong taste of blood surged from deep in my throat. I opened my mouth and spat blood into the basin. I gasped for breath, skillfully turning on the faucet. Washing away the blood traces until they were completely clean. I raised my head, looking at my deathly pale face in the mirror, forcing out an ugly smile. Time was running out, but I had to hold on a little longer. As long as my mother could be well, it didn’t matter if I rotted in the mud. Just as I was steadying my breathing, a knock came from outside. I quickly wiped away the cold sweat at the corners of my mouth. Rapidly pulled on the dress and hurried to open the door. Outside stood a little girl in a princess dress. About seven or eight years old, delicate as a porcelain doll. She looked up at me, staring for quite a while. “Quinn, you’re so pretty, but you look so weak.” I crouched down to meet her eyes, showing a gentle smile: “It’s okay, big sister just hasn’t eaten yet.” “How come you’re here all by yourself?” She didn’t answer my question but tilted her head curiously instead: “What’s your relationship with Diana? I saw her bring you in earlier.” I lowered my gaze, my voice very soft: “I’m Diana’s daughter.” The little girl blinked, then suddenly smiled: “I’m also Diana’s daughter!” My heart skipped a beat, dense waves of sourness spreading through my chest.

She had a new daughter now? That was good. At least someone would be there for her in the future. But why did my heart hurt so much? Just as my nose began to sting, the little girl added another sentence: “But I’m adopted though.” “Mom said she used to have a daughter, but she didn’t want her anymore.” I froze for a moment. This was for the best. In my previous life, because the family wouldn’t accept me, she suffered half a lifetime of hardship. This lifetime, she finally had a clean, unblemished daughter. I patted her head. The little girl tugged at the corner of my dress, pointing down the hallway: “Mom told me to bring you to meet your future husband.” I followed the little girl down the corridor, my heart racing. What kind of person was the crazy heir of the Godfrey family? Could it really be him? Someone as cold and aloof as he was—how could he have become the “crazy” person others described? The little girl stopped in front of a wooden door, waved, and ran off. I stared at that door, my heart pounding incessantly. I pushed it open. A tall, slender man stood by the window. Hearing the sound, he turned around. That familiar, cold, hard face instantly crashed into my line of sight. It really was Caspian Godfrey. He was more mature than five years ago, and colder. The moment I saw him, memories flooded back of when I’d heartlessly dumped him. Even telling him he was a pauper who couldn’t give me a future. I instinctively turned to flee. “Where are you running!” He reacted extremely fast, crossing the distance in a few strides. He grabbed my wrist and yanked me into the room. The door locked heavily behind us. He threw me onto the sofa, looking down at me from above, his eyes full of mockery: “You walked away without a second thought back then, and now that you see I’ve become the Godfrey heir, you’re feeling guilty?” I opened my mouth to speak. But his violent movement had aggravated my fragile nerves. A fierce dizziness struck. The world before my eyes instantly twisted and went black. I didn’t even have time to explain before completely losing consciousness. I don’t know how long passed before a cold touch jolted me awake. I struggled to open my eyes. Caspian was sitting on the edge of the sofa, two fingers resting on the pulse at my wrist. His face was extremely grim. Seeing me wake up, his voice was cold and piercing: “Quinn, what’s wrong with your body?” I looked at his tense face, knowing I couldn’t hide it. He was studying medicine—five years ago he was already a prodigy at medical school. Even with just a simple pulse check, there was no way he couldn’t detect how desperately weak my pulse was. I calmly pulled my hand back. Smoothing out my wrinkled dress, I met his gaze. “Brain cancer. Late stage.” His body shook violently, the coldness in his eyes instantly shattering. I ignored his shock and continued: “Caspian Godfrey, I agree to the marriage alliance.” “But I have one condition. After we’re married, you can’t tell my mother about any of my movements.” Caspian stared at me intently. His chest heaved violently, his hands clenched into tight fists. I looked at his pale face, thinking he would lose his temper. But he said nothing. He gazed at my bloodless face for a long time, then slowly closed his eyes. Hiding all his emotions. His voice was hoarse: “Okay.” My tense nerves finally relaxed. I’m sorry. I can only let you bear this pain. But my mother is different. I’m not afraid of my mother hating me, but I’m afraid of her worrying about me. Hatred is better than worry. After I die, my mother will have my adopted sister with her. She’ll only think her vain, greedy daughter is better off far away. I looked at Caspian and said to him sincerely and calmly: “Thank you.”

When I walked down the stairs on Caspian Godfrey’s arm, more than half the guests in the hall had dispersed. The few remaining relatives saw Caspian and immediately put on fawning expressions. But when they looked at me, they still couldn’t hide the contempt in their eyes. My mother sat in the main seat on the sofa, holding a glass of red wine. Her gaze paused for a second on our clasped hands, her expression inscrutable. I couldn’t read her expression, only knew that when she opened her mouth, every word still had thorns. “Since Caspian Godfrey has taken a liking to you, this hopeless case is yours now.” My mother’s gaze turned to me. “Quinn, when you get to the Godfrey family, don’t use my name to embarrass yourself.” Her tone was cutting to the extreme, carrying thick vengeful satisfaction. I forcefully suppressed the waves of stabbing pain in my mind. Putting on a carefree smile. “Don’t worry, Miss Smith.” “I’ll definitely cling to the Godfrey family tree for dear life, absolutely won’t come leeching off your glory.” “After all, I’m going off to be a rich wife now.” My mother’s hand holding the wine glass trembled slightly. She turned her face away, coldly spitting out two words: “Get lost.” The moment I turned around, the tumor in my brain frantically compressed every nerve. The severe pain made everything go black, and I could barely stand. The familiar bloody taste in my throat surged up again, rushing toward my mouth. I bit down hard on my back molars, pressing all my weight onto Caspian Godfrey’s arm. In a voice only the two of us could hear, I trembled as I begged: “Caspian… take me away. Hurry.” I couldn’t collapse here. I absolutely couldn’t let my mother see me half-dead like this. I had to play the role of a greedy, heartless social climber to the end, make her completely give up on me. Caspian sensed my distress and gripped my hand in return. He turned his head and said to those behind us: “We’re leaving.” Then he half-hugged, half-supported me by the waist, leading me out at a faster pace. The night wind outside the estate was cold, carrying the bone-chilling cold of late autumn. The black Maybach was parked right at the bottom of the steps. Just a few more steps. As soon as I got in the car, I could pass out without restraint, wouldn’t have to force myself anymore. But just then, urgent high-heel footsteps came from behind. My mother had followed us out at some point. “Quinn!” “Back then you abandoned me for that gambling father, and now you’re latching onto the Godfrey family.” “A selfish, rotten-to-the-core person like you doesn’t deserve anyone’s genuine heart!” “Once you leave through that door, even if you die outside, I won’t spare you another glance!” I stopped in my tracks, my heart feeling as if it were being squeezed by a hand, the pain making it impossible to breathe. I wanted to turn back and look at her one more time. Even just one last look at the mother I’d fought so hard to protect. But the moment I turned my head, the bloody sweetness in my throat could no longer be suppressed. “Ugh!” A large mouthful of fresh blood gushed out. The severe pain completely stripped away my consciousness. In the last second before I collapsed. In my line of sight was my mother’s face instantly pale as paper, and her figure rushing toward me in a loss of control.

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In my hometown, when a man wants to marry the woman he loves, he must personally craft a rowing boat to serve as the wedding boat. On the seventh anniversary of our relationship, my boyfriend Julian finally built a beautiful boat. Just as I was about to step aboard, I overheard his friend asking him in a hushed voice: “Are you really giving the boat to Ivy? Aren’t you afraid Serena will make a scene?” “Seriously, Serena has quite the temper. Be careful you don’t push her too far.” Julian just laughed, sounding completely certain of himself: “She won’t. Serena’s the easiest to handle. She loves me to death.” “Besides, in her hometown, if a woman’s still unmarried at 28, she’s basically an old maid. Besides marrying me, who else would want her?” “Anyway, I’ll give Serena the marriage certificate and Ivy the wedding boat. It’s perfectly fair.” An old maid. So that’s all I was to him. My throat tightened, but I didn’t cry. I just took out my phone and sent a message. “Mom, I accept the arranged marriage you set up for me.”

The new boat, wrapped in roses, began its procession, and people started cheering and pushing. “Serena, get on the boat!” “Serena, after seven years, you’re finally getting married!” My best friend Summer sounded genuinely excited and happy for me. Under everyone’s gaze, Julian stepped off the boat and walked in my direction. He only paused beside me for a moment before walking past. He finally stopped in front of Ivy, his tone relaxed and indulgent. “Your birthday present. Do you like it?” An eerie silence fell over the crowd. Ivy covered her mouth, her eyes full of delight. They walked hand in hand toward the boat. This time when he passed me, Julian stopped, his tone casual. “Serena, I’m giving this boat to Ivy first. The next one’s already being built, so don’t worry.” Some people watched the drama unfold, others watched me. As if waiting for me to throw a fit. But I just looked at him calmly. “No need, Julian.” He froze slightly, as if he hadn’t expected this reaction. Sensing the awkward atmosphere, Julian’s friends started speaking up for him. “Serena, don’t overthink it. Julian’s just fulfilling her birthday wish!” “Right, you’ll definitely be Julian’s bride.” I listened to their clumsy excuses, feeling like laughing. My best friend Summer was beside me, grinding her teeth. “How can Julian do this!” “He knows full well that a man can only build one rowing boat in his lifetime!” A sourness welled up in my chest. Yes, in this waterside town, even three-year-old children know that a man can only marry with the first boat he builds to ensure a lifetime of love. Her voice beside me was choked with emotion. “Serena, I feel so wronged for you…” “An assistant trying to climb the social ladder—is he blind!” Actually, she wasn’t just a simple assistant. She was also the daughter of an old family friend of the Prescotts, entrusted to their care. So he gave Ivy unlimited favoritism. He’d bring her to various occasions, and any holiday gifts he gave me would also include one for her. Even the wedding boat I’d been looking forward to for seven years could be given to her because of a birthday wish. “It doesn’t matter anymore, Summer.” I patted her hand. Soon, the two on the boat finished the procession ceremony and came ashore. Ivy still had a trace of a smile on her lips as she bounced over, her tone as cute as ever. “Serena, Julian’s just fulfilling one of my birthday wishes. Don’t overthink it.” Julian—such an intimate way to address him. I was about to speak when I was interrupted. Julian stepped forward and pressed his hand on my shoulder. “Serena, it’s just a boat.” “There are so many people here. Don’t make a scene.” His tone was still gentle, but his eyes carried a warning. “I won’t.” I stepped back and smiled, nodding at Ivy. “Happy birthday.” The moment I finished speaking, an eerie silence fell around us. Julian looked at his empty hand and froze for a moment. That made sense—in the past, I would have made a scene by now. Summer couldn’t stand it anymore and questioned him loudly. “Julian, you gave the boat to her. What are you planning to use to propose to Serena?” “She’s already waited seven years for you. Give us a straight answer!” Everyone’s eyes fell on him. I also looked at him quietly, a faint hope rising in my heart. Julian, this is the last chance I’m giving you. One second, two seconds. My fingers dug hard into my palm, and just as I was about to smooth things over myself— Julian chuckled lightly and spoke casually. “Next time for sure.” Light, dismissive, and perfunctory. The last trace of love in my heart popped like a balloon and finally fell silent.

Summer’s eyes turned red with anger beside me, but I held her back. After the procession ended, they were supposed to hold a banquet on the boat and drink. Some passersby watched the excitement. “Another couple’s getting married! That wedding boat is so grand!” Someone shouted: “Congratulations!” Ivy stood at the bow, tugging on Julian’s arm. “Julian, I have another birthday wish.” Her voice was loud, drawing everyone’s attention. “I want… you to be my boyfriend for seven days!” The atmosphere instantly exploded. “Say yes! Say yes!” Julian laughed and ruffled her hair without a moment’s hesitation. “Deal, but just seven days.” From start to finish, his gaze never once turned to me. Ivy glanced at me without leaving a trace, her smile growing wider. Friends in the know kept glancing over. Some sympathetic, some watching the drama, some pitying. It seemed like I, the ex-girlfriend, shouldn’t continue staying here. Just as I lifted my foot, Julian called out to me. “Serena, you’re leaving?” “Yeah, it’s awkward for an ex-girlfriend to stay here.” He frowned. “Don’t talk nonsense. I’m just fulfilling a young girl’s wish.” “You take a cab first. I still need to take Ivy home.” “I’ll bring you fried chicken tonight, okay?” After speaking, he took the keys from my bag and rejoined the celebration. I stared at his back, my eyes finally starting to sting. After I got home, I received a video from Ivy. In the video, Ivy’s face was flushed red. People pushed her into Julian’s arms. Someone joked. “I say, why not just hold the wedding with Ivy too!” “How can Serena compare to our Miss Ivy!” Ivy laughed and cursed: “You’re drunk.” Julian just watched with a smile on his lips but didn’t deny it. Then came a message. “Serena, why did you leave early? I’m sending you the video so we can celebrate together!” Strangely, seeing all this no longer stirred any waves in my heart. I just stared at the rowing boat in the video, lost in thought. Julian used to constantly tell me that this was a major life event for girls from the waterside town, and nothing could be compromised. The deck had to be made of rosewood, the railings on both sides had to be wrapped with my favorite magnolia flowers, the windows on the boat had to be designed by me personally… I still felt some regret, after all, I’d been looking forward to it for a long time. But not for the person—for the boat. When Julian came back, it was already late, and he entered empty-handed. When our eyes met, he paused, then walked over and hugged me like usual. A strong scent of perfume hit me. The last time I wore perfume was five years ago. Back then, he frowned and said the smell of perfume made him nauseous. Only today did I learn that his nausea was selective. He looked at me, his tone still gentle. “The party went a bit late. Still awake? Waiting for me?” I didn’t respond, only asking: “Where’s my carrot cake?” Without looking at me, he picked up a nearby glass and took a sip of water. “When I was taking Ivy home, she said she wanted to try it, so I gave it to her. Didn’t you say you wanted to lose weight for the marriage certificate photo? We can eat it another time, okay?” This was the third time he’d said this. I’d been saying I wanted to eat it since half a month ago. He said he’d buy it, bought it three times. The first time, halfway there, Ivy called him to accompany her to view houses. The second time, Ivy was being ostracized by her colleagues, so Julian went to eat sushi with her. And then today. I sighed and suppressed the sourness in my heart. “Julian.” “Let’s break up.”

The glass in his hand trembled, then he scoffed. “Changed your tactics? You think I won’t call you out on it? You’re really not giving up, are you?” I froze, not understanding what he meant for a moment. He laughed coldly. “Today you had Summer pressure me to propose, didn’t you?” “What, the forced proposal didn’t work, so now you’re playing hard to get?” Only then did I understand. He thought I had Summer say that to pressure him into proposing. I found it absurd but didn’t bother explaining. I nodded. “Yes, the forced proposal failed, so I want to marry someone else.” After I finished, the mockery on his face deepened. “Serena, could you really bear to break up with me? Enough already, don’t blow this out of proportion. You’re already 28 and we’ve been together for seven years. Besides me, who else could you marry? Go to bed early. Tomorrow we still need to go to my house for Grandma’s birthday.” He turned and went back to the bedroom. I watched his back, feeling only deep exhaustion. The next day, I still went to attend Grandma Prescott’s birthday party. After all, Grandma Prescott had given me a jade ring, and I had to return it. When I arrived at the Prescott house, Julian’s mother stood at the door. Ivy was holding her arm with a bright smile, looking every bit the future daughter-in-law. Ivy saw us first and immediately smiled, walking toward me proactively. “Serena, Julian said you were angry. I thought you weren’t coming today!” She deliberately shook the jade bracelet on her wrist—the one the Prescott family gives to their daughter-in-law. Grandma Prescott’s was a ring, Mrs. Prescott’s was a bracelet. Julian had long ago gotten the bracelet from his mother, saying he’d personally put it on me someday. Now, it seemed that wouldn’t be necessary. Julian also saw it and explained in a low voice. “Ivy’s just borrowing it to wear. She’ll return it. Don’t overthink it.” Mrs. Prescott also walked over, her expression indifferent, her tone carrying a hint of admonishment. “You’re here?” “I heard about yesterday. It’s just a boat.” “Ivy is all alone now. It’s only right that we care for her more. Rein in your temper and don’t make people laugh for no reason.” Everyone thought I would lose my temper, but no one stopped Julian from doing that. I found it rather laughable. Julian reached out to habitually put his arm around my waist, trying to comfort me with an intimate gesture as usual, but I smoothly avoided him by stepping aside. His hand froze in mid-air, and Julian’s brow instantly furrowed. “What are you making a fuss about now?” Julian lowered his voice, his tone carrying a hint of suppressed anger. “It’s Grandma’s birthday. Don’t ruin everyone’s mood. I’ll apologize to you when we get home, okay?” I calmly raised my head to meet his gaze. “I’m really not angry.” I took out the jade ring and handed it steadily to Mrs. Prescott. “Mrs. Prescott, please give this to Miss Ivy as well. I won’t go in and disturb Grandma Prescott.” At this, Julian’s pupils suddenly contracted. Ivy clutched her skirt, looking aggrieved yet understanding. “Serena, are you sulking?” “Julian, this is all my fault. I was too greedy to accept that boat…” “I’m the one who made Serena angry. How about I return the boat and the bracelet to her…” As she spoke, she seemed to remember something and hurriedly tried to remove the bracelet from her wrist. But somehow, though the bracelet was quite loose, she couldn’t get it off. Sure enough, the tension Julian showed when he saw me take out the ring disappeared. He laughed coldly, snatched the ring from my hand, and walked toward Ivy. “No need to return it. I said if I’m giving it to you, it’s yours. Here, wear the ring too.” Then he looked at me, his eyes full of disdain. “Fine, Serena. Let’s see how long you can keep this up!” “Since you don’t want them, Ivy can wear them all first.” “Didn’t you say you weren’t going in? Why are you still here?” In the past, the more he provoked me like this, the more I’d do the opposite and would stay. But now, I only felt relieved. “Then I’ll head back first.” Then I turned and left. Behind me came Ivy’s considerate attempt to mediate. Julian’s anger seemed even greater, his voice louder. “Let her go! She’s desperate to get married and starved for love, trying to manipulate me with this! She should look at how old she is!” I didn’t look back and got into a taxi. Mom’s message came through right then. “Serena, look, this is your rowing boat.”

In the picture, that boat was bigger and more beautiful. Most importantly, the entire hull was covered with my favorite magnolia flowers, not a single rose. Back home, I started packing my things. Simple clothes, documents, slowly organizing everything. There were also photos of us together over the years, each with writing on the back. I flipped through them one by one. The one from Erhai Lake, he wrote: “Going to cling to Serena for life.” The one watching the sunrise together, he wrote: “Serena is more beautiful than the sunrise…” I put them all away, hesitated for a moment, then threw them in the trash. After a while, the sound of a car engine came from downstairs. Because it suddenly started raining, Julian came back quite early. The door was pushed open, bringing in a scent of Ivy’s perfume. I didn’t stop what I was doing and folded the last piece of clothing. Julian changed his shoes and walked to the bedroom door, leaning against the frame. He casually draped his suit jacket over his arm, irritation evident in his expression. “Are you done yet?” His tone wasn’t harsh, but it was full of condescending dismissiveness. I glanced up at him, closed the suitcase, and prepared to zip it up. My indifference completely wore away the last of his patience. He strode over and yanked my suitcase away. The force was heavy, and the case made a sharp sound. “Are you ever going to stop?” He frowned, his brow knotted. “I’ve had a mountain of work at the company lately. I’ve been really busy. These past few days, you’ve been giving me the cold shoulder. Do you have to let everyone laugh at me?” You’re not busy. You still have time to coddle Ivy. Most importantly, they’ve never been laughing at you—they’ve been laughing at me. “I haven’t been giving you the cold shoulder.” He grabbed my wrist, offering what he thought was a compromising concession. “I know you’re unhappy. It’s just a boat and some jewelry, right? Those are all small matters.” Everything about me is a small matter, everything about Ivy is a big deal. I looked at him and suddenly remembered what he said in the group chat that day. Serena’s the easiest to handle, loves me to death, would never dare to really make a scene. “Let me tell you something. Tomorrow Ivy and I are going on a business trip.” He leaned down, brought his face close to my ear, and threw out what he thought was his most enticing chip. “When I get back from the trip, I’ll make time to get the marriage certificate with you.” “You’ve waited seven years. Isn’t this what you’ve been waiting for? I’ll satisfy you.” He said it as if it were the most natural thing, as if getting the marriage certificate was some great favor to me. In his heart, the wedding boat could be given to someone else, his favoritism could be given to someone else. All the exceptions and special treatment could belong to Ivy. Only that cold marriage certificate was my fate. I looked at him and suddenly laughed. Laughing at how my seven years had rotted on that wedding boat covered in roses that never belonged to me. And seeing me laugh, Julian thought I’d been appeased, completely relaxed, his expression growing even more at ease. “Happy now? Wait for me at home like a good girl.” He walked toward the door, taking out his phone and tapping it twice as he went. “I still need to video call Ivy and prepare for tomorrow…” I interrupted him. “Julian, I’m going back to the waterside town tomorrow. I need to…” His phone suddenly rang. He raised his hand, stopping what I was about to say. “Ivy, what’s wrong?” The voice on the other end sounded panicked. “Don’t be scared, I’m coming right over.” Hanging up, he put on his jacket while saying to me: “It’s thundering outside. Ivy’s most afraid of thunder. I’m going to check on her.” “Whatever it is, we’ll talk later.” Then he hurried out. The words “get married” were forcibly swallowed back. … Julian rushed out. On the road, his phone buzzed a few times. He scoffed, assuming that since he’d just agreed to get the marriage certificate with me, I was getting anxious again. When he reached the building where Ivy lived, he opened his phone, only to find it wasn’t a message from me. “Julian, remember to attend the wedding of the Ashford heir next week.” Following that was a picture of a wedding invitation. After seeing the content clearly, his hand froze on the car door.

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I was sick and hospitalized, and my boyfriend was running himself ragged taking care of me. The older woman in the neighboring hospital bed quietly asked me when the two of us were getting married. I just smiled, shook my head, and didn’t say a word. He had no idea that I saw his phone. I saw that he had linked his gaming account as an “in-game couple” with a girl saved as CeeCee. I saw it last night, right when he forgot to lock his screen before turning around to pour me a glass of water. 1 The day I was discharged from the hospital, the city was blanketed in its heaviest snowfall of the year. Caleb took off his scarf and wrapped it snugly around my neck, laughing and calling me a silly little goose. I opened my mouth to speak, but tears just welled up in my eyes. He crouched down, taking my hands in his, and looked up at me with those eyes full of stars, asking what was wrong. I stared back at him. I just couldn’t wrap my head around it. How could someone cheat on me, yet still treat me with such incredible tenderness? 2 Caleb’s Instagram grid was completely filled with pictures of me. Because I had severe sinus allergies, he not only quit smoking cold turkey, but he also refused to let any of his frat brothers or coworkers light up around me. Whenever he came home late from grabbing drinks with the guys, he would wait out in the freezing apartment hallway for ten minutes just to air out, all because I couldn’t stand the smell of alcohol. He remembered every food I loved and every brand of skincare I used. He even tracked the dates of my period more accurately than I did. Last month, when I went on a ski trip to Aspen with my friends, he couldn’t make it because of a massive work deadline. He stayed on the phone with me for half an hour, nagging me to be safe on the slopes. My friends laughed, teasing that his eyes only had room for me, that Professor Vance was hopelessly obsessed with his girlfriend. But this exact same man was on a multiplayer game, paired up with a girl I didn’t even know. Their “couple status” was currently at 147 days. 3 I was craving a spicy Cajun seafood boil, spicy buffalo wings—anything with a massive kick of heat. Caleb coaxed and pleaded with me until I gave in, and he ended up making me a warm bowl of homemade chicken noodle soup instead. I sat at the kitchen island, watching his broad shoulders as he busied himself by the stove. Suddenly, I asked him. “Caleb, that game you’re always playing on your phone… can you teach me how to play?” He froze for just a fraction of a second, then turned around and smiled, ruffling my hair. “Sure thing, babe. Since when did you care about video games?” I really didn’t know the first thing about gaming. The complicated interface gave me a headache. But more importantly, I noticed Caleb had logged into a burner account to play with me. When we lost our first match, I tossed his phone onto the sofa. He wasn’t even mad. “Wanna do something else?” he asked. He had finished cleaning up the kitchen and wrapped his arms around me from behind on the couch. His breath brushed against my ear, his soft hair carrying the fresh scent of his body wash. But my body reacted on instinct, and I pushed him away. He raised an eyebrow in surprise, but still just gently rubbed my stomach and told me to get some rest. 4 The next morning, I didn’t wake Caleb up. I just got dressed and went straight to the office. He sent me two texts around noon. “You just got out of the hospital, don’t eat anything greasy. I ordered you some warm soup from Panera, be a good girl and eat it all.” “Were you in a bad mood yesterday? Let’s go catch a movie after you get off work.” “…” I locked my screen, a dull ache twisting in my stomach. Caleb finished his afternoon lectures right on time and drove to my office to pick me up. I didn’t say a word as he held my hand and led me into the theater. The movie was incredibly dull. Halfway through, Caleb’s phone kept buzzing in his pocket. Suddenly, he leaned over and whispered that there was an emergency at the university he had to deal with immediately. I nodded and said that was fine, I’d just catch an Uber home after the credits rolled. But he probably never expected that I would slip out of the theater right behind him. Luckily, he was on foot. If he had driven, I never would have been able to keep up. His destination was close by—a local urgent care clinic just two blocks down. Caleb was tall and striking, easy to spot even in a crowded waiting room. Because of that, I had a perfectly clear view when a young girl sprinted out of an exam room and threw her arms around his neck. Caleb let her hold him, his hands resting casually in his jacket pockets. He didn’t hug her back. But he didn’t push her away, either. 5 I got home much later than Caleb did. He was sitting at the dining table, tilting his head as he watched me walk in. I had no intention of explaining where I’d been. As I walked past him, he reached out and caught my wrist. “Why have you been so down these past few days, hmm?” He kissed the spot behind my ear, trailing down to my neck. But the moment I thought of how that girl had practically wrapped herself around him, a violent shudder ran through me, and I shoved his chest. “Go take a shower.” I avoided his gaze, and he didn’t seem too suspicious. Before grabbing his towel, he affectionately ruffled my hair. Caleb had always kept his guard down around me. Look, he didn’t even lock his phone. This time, I dug deeper into his apps. Yesterday, he had played games with me using his main social media login, but it was undeniably his alternate gaming account. After messing around with his settings, I found a hidden encrypted messaging app buried in a locked folder. Logged in on that app was a completely different persona. … The contact list was sparse. Just a few of his frat brothers. But pinned to the very top of his messages was a chat with someone named CeeCee. As I opened it, CeeCee happened to send a brand-new text. “My cramps hurt so bad, I feel awful. When are you finally going to break up with that woman?” “…” I scrolled up. They had talked so much. So much that it felt like they exchanged more words in a single day than Caleb and I did in an entire month. A month ago, when I was in Aspen with my friends, Caleb said he was swamped with grading papers and stayed on the phone with me to make sure I was safe. But that very same day was this CeeCee’s birthday. The two of them had gone to the exact same local animal rescue cafe that Caleb and I went to on our first anniversary. Someone had even taken a Polaroid of them. The girl was smiling radiantly, holding a golden retriever puppy, while Caleb looked down at her with pure, unadulterated affection. My hands and feet turned to ice. I kept reading. Caleb sent her paragraphs upon paragraphs. He would whine to her about how exhausting his department meetings were. He would play video games with her and affectionately mock her for being a “total noob.” He even took photos of the new succulent on his office desk just to share it with her. All those times he told me he was working late? They were almost all dates with this girl. As I stared at the screen, I slowly clutched my stomach and sank to the floor. I had just gotten surgery for severe gastric ulcers, and the intense stress made the searing pain flare up all over again. To make matters worse, I was so absorbed in the texts that I didn’t even notice the sound of the shower turning off. The bathroom door clicked open right behind me. … “What’s wrong? Does your stomach hurt again? Do we need to go to the ER?” The man swept me up from the floor from behind, the crisp scent of his body wash flooding my senses. His warm palm pressed firmly against my abdomen, and for a fleeting second, it actually seemed to soothe my pain. I lowered my eyes, staring at his phone, which I had flipped face-down onto the table in the nick of time. The very last message I saw was from Caleb to that girl: “I lost my feelings for her a long time ago. You’re the one I like now.” 6 Growing up, my mom loved showing affection through food. Because of that, I developed a habit of binge-eating whenever I felt overwhelmed. Especially during the high-pressure years of high school, my weight ballooned by over thirty pounds. Most teenage girls are hypersensitive about their appearance, and I was no exception. But the more anxious I got, the more I ate. The social circles for girls in my class were a weird mix of superficial harmony and brutal exclusion. I was constantly marginalized because of my size. I wore oversized hoodies, lagged behind in gym class, and never dared to wear a sundress. Nobody wanted to be friends with me, except… Caleb. I met him during our freshman orientation assembly. He was the golden boy speaking for the guys; I was the top-scoring nerd speaking for the girls. But compared to my one fleeting moment in the spotlight, he was as radiant as the summer sun. Top grades, insanely handsome, constantly surrounded by friends. Girls flocked to him like moths to a flame. But as fate would have it, we ended up in the same SAT prep classes, and our similarly high test scores meant the teachers were always comparing us. Over time, we just clicked. I knew exactly what the guys in our grade whispered about me behind my back. They called me fat, joked that no man would ever want me, and erupted into cruel, echoing laughter. They said the most disgusting things. But Caleb… he never once looked at me with that kind of revulsion in his eyes. When did I fall for him? It was probably a humid summer night after prep class. He slung his backpack over one shoulder, took the empty seat next to me, bringing the summer heat with him. His eyes crinkled, his smile incredibly bright and clean. “Just checked the practice scores. You beat me by one point again.” “You’re too smart. Mind lending me that brain of yours?” … Caleb never knew that I peeked at his college application list, spent hours calculating my odds, and made countless silent wishes. In the end, we got into the same prestigious university. At a graduation party, a wealthy, gorgeous girl confessed her feelings to him in front of everyone. I sat in the back of the crowd, quietly listening to everyone cheer them on. I truly thought Caleb would date her. But he didn’t. He politely turned her down. … As the party wound down, I was sitting alone in the furthest corner of a booth. Years of isolation made me terrible at socializing; my default instinct was always to hide. But he could always find me. That night, Caleb sat next to me, resting his chin on his hand, his eyes slightly narrowed. I knew he was staring at me, but I was too terrified to meet his gaze. After a long silence, his voice—light and teasing—broke the quiet. “I like you.” “Wanna give us a try?”

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1 I, Chloe Sterling, was the internet’s most hated rising star. Right as my career was supposed to be taking off, I was booked on a massive celebrity reality-talk show alongside another Gen Z “It Girl” from my agency. During the segment, the topic shifted to industry connections. To manufacture some viral drama, the host challenged the guests to call a friend—in or out of the industry—and ask to borrow money on speakerphone. The amount? Exactly $100,000. In this economy, asking for a hundred grand out of the blue is an incredibly sensitive issue. Plus, the person on the other end wouldn’t know they were on live television. Anything could happen. We were all public figures. The producers were purely looking out for their own ratings, completely disregarding whether this might ruin a guest’s career. Just as I was hesitating, Harper Quinn flashed a sickly-sweet smile. “Chloe, you look a little pale. Do you not have anyone you can call?” She looked at me with undisguised contempt. Harper was, for all intents and purposes, my ultimate rival. We were signed by the agency around the same time, which meant we constantly competed for the same roles and brand deals. Because of her innocent, “girl-next-door” aesthetic, her first lead role blew up globally. Her status skyrocketed. Meanwhile, since my debut, I had only managed to land lukewarm supporting roles. I guess I partly blamed myself; I wasn’t hyper-ambitious and felt perfectly content with where I was. But I never expected that even after hitting the A-list, Harper still wouldn’t let me breathe. She had to fight me for everything. I glanced at Harper in her flashy, haute-couture gown. Her smile felt like daggers. “Don’t worry about me, Harper.” Choked by my immediate pushback, Harper didn’t get angry. Instead, she smirked, leaning in to whisper so only my mic would pick it up: “Keep faking it. Let’s see how long you can hold this front.” I lowered my eyes and stayed silent. 2 The livestream chat was already exploding. [Omg, Chloe is so arrogant. Harper was just checking on her!] [Harper is way more famous than her anyway. Why does Chloe always look so bitter?] [Our girl Harper is too nice. If it were me, I would’ve slapped her.] [No wonder she’s a D-list flop. People like Chloe are the poison of Hollywood.] Before the game began, the crew mirrored our phones onto the giant studio screen. Eager to watch me make a fool of myself, Harper volunteered to go first. I didn’t object. The host beamed. “Alright, let’s get started!” Looking incredibly smug, Harper pulled out her phone and opened her iMessage. Right at the top of her pinned chats was the name: Liam Sterling. Oh, wow. That was my older brother. The studio audience instantly lost their minds. [Wait, Liam Sterling?! Like, THE Liam Sterling?] [For anyone who lives under a rock: Liam Sterling is Hollywood’s most eligible bachelor. Insanely talented, literally won back-to-back Oscars for Best Actor.] [He is drop-dead gorgeous and so sweet in person! I met him at LAX once, totally breathtaking.] [How does Harper know Liam?! And he’s pinned in her texts? They must be super close!] [Are they secretly dating?!] [Twitter sleuths, get to work NOW!!] The studio atmosphere reached a fever pitch. Seeing that her stunt had worked perfectly, Harper feigned a shy, blushing smile. “Is it okay if I call Liam?” Liam? My mouth twitched as the studio audience screamed their approval. Having an A-lister of that magnitude featured on the show was a producer’s wet dream. The host eagerly urged her on. Amidst the deafening cheers, Harper dialed Liam’s number. It rang for a long time. Harper’s face tightened with nervous anticipation. Ring… Ring… Ring… And then, the call disconnected. Sent straight to voicemail. The studio went dead silent. Harper’s face darkened instantly, but she quickly forced a stiff smile. “Liam is probably on set right now. He must have missed it.” I smiled, looking completely innocent. “Really? Because that sounded exactly like you got sent to voicemail.” “You…” “Why would Liam ever decline my call?” she snapped defensively. I just chuckled, threw my hands up, and gave a helpless shrug. [Chloe is such a bitch. She literally cannot stand seeing other women win.] [Exactly. Liam is a busy man, missing a call is completely normal.] [Ignore her, she’s just jealous that Harper even has Liam’s number.] [I mean… it did ring three times and then abruptly stop. That literally means he declined it. Are you guys blind?] Occasionally, a viewer would drop some truth in the chat. But they were immediately drowned out by the flood of toxic stans. Everyone knew Harper’s fanbase was rabid and allergic to criticism. 3 Unable to let the embarrassment slide, Harper dialed Liam’s number again. This time, it was declined even faster. A second later, an iMessage from Liam popped up on the giant screen: [Harper, are you done?] [How much longer do you expect me to tolerate you?] The audience gasped. Harper’s face drained of all color. She frantically tried to do damage control. “No, wait, it’s not what it looks like. Liam might just be having a stressful day today! I know him so well—he hates being interrupted when he’s deeply in character on set. Let’s just be understanding and try someone else!” Clearly, the studio fans desperately wanted to believe her. Someone from the bleachers even yelled, “It’s okay, Harper! We understand!” I scoffed internally. If nothing else, Harper’s fans were blindly loyal. Looking deeply moved, Harper stared lovingly at her fans. Then, she backed out of her texts and dialed another number from her contacts. It didn’t have a saved name, but I recognized the digits instantly. That was… my dad’s private cell. Harper hit the call button, looking even more terrified than she had when calling my brother. Almost immediately, the automated carrier voice echoed through the studio: [We’re sorry, the number you have reached is unavailable…] Refusing to give up, she hung up and dialed again. Same automated voice. The audience began whispering. Harper was biting her lip so hard it was turning white. I knew my dad. His tech empire spanned the globe; he literally never missed an important call. The fact that it went straight to an automated message meant one thing: Harper’s number was blocked. The director looked completely panicked. He had assumed Harper’s segment would be a massive ratings booster. Nobody expected it to be this humiliating. But no matter how embarrassing it got, her delusional fanbase refused to turn on her. [It’s fine! The other person is probably just in a meeting.] [Don’t cry, Harper! You tried your best!] [Seeing her looking so sad breaks my heart.] [Lmao, look at Chloe’s face. She is eating this up. What a psycho.] [She literally has ‘mean girl’ written all over her face.] [It’s her turn next. Let’s see how badly she embarrasses herself.] The host forced a laugh to smooth things over and moved the segment along. Harper blinked at me, her eyes dripping with fake sympathy. “It’s okay if you can’t borrow the money, Chloe! Knowing your… reputation in the industry, we totally understand.” God, she was a piece of work. I opened my phone, pulled up my contacts, and dialed the contact saved as “Brother.” 4 Harper covered her mouth with a manicured hand and giggled. “‘Brother’? Is he actually related to you? I’ve seen this a million times. Girls like you meet a rich guy in the hills and suddenly start calling him ‘Brother’ or ‘Daddy.’ Who knows what kind of relationship you guys actually have behind closed doors.” I frowned, glaring at her. Among female celebrities, spreading implicit rumors about someone’s sex life was the lowest of the low. Harper was entirely dropping her innocent facade. [Holy shit, Harper went there.] [Industry insiders probably know the tea. Chloe is probably a high-end escort or something.] [Harper never speaks like this in public. Chloe must be genuinely vile behind the scenes.] I ignored the chat and waited for the call to connect. Within seconds, it was picked up. A deep, lazy, incredibly affectionate voice echoed through the studio speakers: “Hey, Chloe. What’s up?” In a split second, Harper’s face turned ghostly white. The live chat completely short-circuited: [Wait… tell me that isn’t Liam Sterling’s voice.] [Am I hallucinating?!] [Omg, I’ve been a hardcore Liam fan for five years. That is 100% his voice.] [AHHHHH! Liam picked up Chloe’s call?! AND HE CALLED HER CHLOE IN THAT TONE?!] [I’m shipping them so hard right now. This is wild.] I spoke directly into the phone: “Hey, can I borrow $100,000?” My brother let out a low, rumbling chuckle. “What’s wrong? Did my little troublemaker burn through her allowance again?” “Yup!” Even though he couldn’t see me, I nodded happily. His magnetic voice poured through the speakers again. “I just wired $200,000 to your account. Let me know if you need more. I can’t have my favorite girl going broke, can I?” The call ended. A second later, a notification dropped onto the giant screen: [Chase Bank Alert: Incoming Wire Transfer of $200,000.00 successful.] Harper looked like she was going to pass out. The chat was having an absolute meltdown: [HE CALLED HER ‘LITTLE TROUBLEMAKER’ AND ‘FAVORITE GIRL’!!!] [Are they actually siblings?! We need a DNA test immediately!] [My gossip radar is going crazy. Someone call TMZ!] [He is so charming. A man talking like that could ruin my life and I’d thank him.] I locked my phone, turned to Harper, and gave her a sharp, predatory smile. “Sorry about that. My brother Liam usually declines calls from people he doesn’t know.”

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1 In the third year of my marriage to Carter Sterling, he set up a young, pretty college girl in an apartment downtown. Her name was Chloe Jenkins. She had a sweet, innocent look—exactly Carter’s type. Carter had been keeping her around for over six months. Other than me, she was the woman who had stayed by his side the longest. My friends warned me to be careful. They all said that this time, Carter might actually be falling in love. The first time I met Chloe was on my birthday. My nose had been bleeding since the morning. I went to the hospital for a checkup, and the doctor told me I would probably only live until next spring. I nodded gently and whispered, “That’s okay.” I wasn’t afraid of dying, but I was a little afraid of the pain. I heard there was a very expensive experimental painkiller that could make my remaining days a bit more comfortable. The money in my bank account wasn’t enough, so I went to Carter’s company to find him. It just so happened that Chloe was there, too. She had just graduated and was working as Carter’s personal secretary. Carter was in a meeting, so I sat in the waiting area. Chloe kept staring at me, whispering to her colleagues nearby: “Is that the boss’s wife? She’s so ugly. She looks dried up, like she’s about to drop dead.” “Everyone says I look like her. How do I look like her? I’m way prettier.” The polished glass wall reflected my image. I wore no makeup and was swallowed up by a bulky, unflattering winter coat. It was true. I wasn’t pretty, and I was about to drop dead. A colleague pulled Chloe’s sleeve and whispered back, “She just isn’t dressed up. If she put on makeup, ten of you combined couldn’t compare to her.” “Also, don’t let the boss’s favoritism get to your head. Don’t provoke her.” “You don’t know how much the boss loves her. If you upset her, he will literally end you.” 2 Hearing that Carter loved me deeply, Chloe pouted in defiance and rolled her eyes at me. She brought me a cup of tea, asking in a sickly-sweet voice, “Emma, how could the boss bear to make you wait so long?” “It’s so weird. Usually, whenever I come to find him, no matter how busy he is, he drops everything to keep me company. He tells me I’m the most important person to him.” “I thought he was this considerate with all his women…” She smiled, her eyes curving into sweet crescents. When she smiled, she really did look like a younger me. I thought about it. Carter really did treat Chloe differently. He had countless mistresses. He used them as tools to spite me, bringing a different woman home every night, testing my reaction over and over again. But Carter never kept them around long. A day or two, maybe a couple of weeks at most, and he would get bored. Only Chloe. Carter kept her properly on the outside—taking her to dinners, shopping, the movies. They were like any ordinary, loving couple. Carter gave her money, and he gave her affection. I looked at Chloe and smiled softly, asking her in a gentle voice, “If you’re so important, how can Carter bear to keep you hidden away as a dirty little secret?” “You should talk some sense into him. Tell him to divorce me sooner so he can marry you.” Chloe’s face drained of color. Humiliated and furious, she lowered her voice and hissed, “The one who isn’t loved is the real third wheel! You are the one who doesn’t belong!” “You’re just riding on the fact that you met Mr. Sterling a few years before I did. But look at you now—you’re old and ugly. What do you have left to fight me with?” Her colleague, probably terrified that I would snap, hurried over to grab her arm and pull her away. Honestly, I didn’t mind. I had made a promise to myself a long time ago: I wouldn’t get angry over Carter, and I wouldn’t cry over him either. And I certainly wouldn’t lower myself to fight other women out of jealousy for him. He wasn’t worth it. 3 Chloe was yanked back, lost her footing, and crashed to the floor. The ceramic teacup shattered, slicing a deep gash into her palm. Blood spilled across the tiles. Through the glass walls of the conference room, Carter saw the injured Chloe. With everyone watching, he slammed his files down, pushed open the doors, and strode over, pulling Chloe into his arms. He snarled coldly, “Who the hell hurt her?” The well-meaning colleague stumbled backward, her face ashen with terror. I sneered. “I did it. And she deserved it.” Chloe glared at me through her tears, crying out, “Yes, I deserve it! It’s my fault for falling in love with a married man. It’s my fault people call me a homewrecker and a mistress!” “But Mr. Sterling, as long as you love me, I’ll stay by your side for the rest of my life. No one can tear us apart.” She cried so beautifully. Even spouting such ridiculous nonsense, she looked brave and resolute. Carter chuckled, his anger melting. He reached up to wipe her tears, coaxing her, “Be good. Look at you, crying like a little stray cat.” He truly treated her differently. I lowered my eyes, too tired to keep watching, and simply said to Carter, “For my birthday this year, I want fifty thousand dollars.” It was funny, really. We were husband and wife, but we didn’t even have each other saved in our phones. Unless I needed money, I never reached out to him. Before we got married, we had a deal: he wanted my body, and I wanted his money. Carter always hated me for being a gold digger. But in the past, whenever I asked, no matter the amount, he would give it to me—usually more than I requested. But this time, he looked at me and smiled. A freezing, cruel smile. He said slowly, “You can have the money.” “But, Emma. Lower your noble head and apologize to Chloe first.” Carter was using fifty grand to buy my dignity, all to buy Chloe an apology. It was the first time he had ever used his money to humiliate me for another woman. I slowly clenched my fists and gave a faint smile. Suppressing the sudden, agonizing pain flaring up in my chest, I turned and walked away. I didn’t want the money anymore. I suddenly felt very curious. Carter… If one day you found out that this money could have kept me alive just a little longer, if you knew how much pain I suffered before I died… What kind of face would you make? 4 I went home alone, curling up in agony under the covers, sweating through my clothes from the pain. I took some sleeping pills, lying to myself. If I fall asleep, it won’t hurt anymore. In a hazy delirium, I had a dream. I dreamt of the year I was twenty. Carter was dirt poor, but he loved me so, so much. It was my birthday. We walked past a bakery and saw a couple sitting by the glass window. The girl was holding a delicate slice of white velvet cake. It looked exquisite, delicious, and incredibly expensive. I remember it was snowing heavily. I scooped up a handful of snow, smiled at Carter, and asked, “Carter, look at this snow. Doesn’t it look like a slice of cake?” Carter clenched his jaw and pulled me into a tight hug, hiding his red, tear-filled eyes from me. Three days later, he appeared outside my dorm building holding a massive, entire white velvet cake. A whole cake cost fifty dollars. Standing on the freezing, wind-swept streets handing out three thousand flyers only earned him twenty. I looked at the frostbite on his fingers and burst into pathetic, ugly sobs. I tilted my head back and yelled at him, “Carter Sterling! Your hands are meant for reading books and writing papers! You can’t just ruin them just to make me smile!” I told him I wasn’t worthy of such an expensive cake… Carter frowned and instantly shut me down. He said, “Emma, you are the best girl in the world. You deserve every beautiful thing this world has to offer.” That day, I ate the entire cake through my tears. So much time has passed, I can’t even remember how it tasted anymore. All I know is that since that day, I’ve never had a cake that tasted better. I slept for a long time. Groggily, I heard my phone ringing. I answered it, and heard Carter’s voice calling my name: “Emma.” I smiled weakly, my voice sweet as I called back, “Carter, it’s snowing heavily. I want to eat cake.” Without waiting for his reply, I rolled over and sank back into a deep sleep. 5 I slept until the middle of the night before I woke up starving. I went to the living room to find food, only to realize Carter had actually come home. He had bought Chloe a massive penthouse. They lived there together. Chloe cooked for him, made him laugh, and waited for him to come home. Carter was living a great life. He hadn’t been back to this house in a very long time. He leaned lazily against the floor-to-ceiling window, a cigarette between his lips, staring fixedly at me. I kept my eyes down, walking past him, but he grabbed my arm. He frowned, his voice soft. “Why have you lost so much weight?” His tone was gentle. It almost sounded like he still loved me. I froze for a second, then violently yanked my arm away, snapping, “Carter, are you out of your mind?” He looked down at his empty palm, the warmth bleeding out of his face. When I reached the dining table, I saw a large cake resting on it, covered in unlit candles. Only then did I realize that the phone call hadn’t been a dream. I said I wanted cake, so Carter went out and bought one. What was this? A peace offering? But I was dying. I had stopped needing cake—and stopped needing Carter—a long time ago. I grabbed the cake and shoved it straight into the trash can. Carter ground his teeth, grabbed me, and slammed me against the wall. He cursed viciously, “Emma, are you fucking playing with me?” I smiled and admitted it. “Yes, Carter. I’m playing with you. So what?” “I say I want a cake, and you go run and buy a cake. Why are you still as pathetic as you used to be?” I deliberately drove the knife into his heart. I watched Carter’s expression freeze into absolute absolute ice. He crushed his cigarette out, dragged me into the bedroom, and threw me onto the bed. Carter was driven mad by anger. Like a beast losing control, he roughly tore at my nightgown. I was terrified. I balled my fists and hit him. “Carter, you bastard! Don’t touch me! You disgust me!” He pinned my legs down so I couldn’t struggle, lowered his head, and bit down hard on my neck. The pain brought tears to my eyes. He pressed his lips against my ear and growled, “Emma, would it kill you to just give in for once?” “Do you have any idea how many years I’ve waited for you to just be soft with me?” “Do you know how happy I was when you told me you wanted cake?” “And then you treat me like a fucking joke?” He lifted his head, staring at me with bloodshot eyes. I fought back my tears and glared right back. In the dimly lit room, neither of us spoke. Neither of us was willing to surrender. Carter leaned down, getting closer and closer. Just as his lips were about to brush mine, his phone suddenly rang. It was Chloe. Carter paused, but eventually picked it up. I could hear Chloe crying through the speaker. “Mr. Sterling, are you really abandoning me for Emma? You clearly told me you loved me.” “I’m at a bar right now. I drank too much, and some guy is harassing me…” “I’m so scared. Please come take me home, please?” Carter didn’t say a word to her. He just stared at me, a cold smile forming on his lips. He softly ordered me, “Emma. Beg me.” “Beg me to stay. Just ask, and I won’t leave.” He must have forgotten. A long time ago, I had thrown away my pride and begged him too. “Carter, can we just sit down and talk calmly?” “Can we stop fighting?” “Can we just love each other?” “Can you please just be good to me?” That day, Carter stared at me with cold indifference, smiled, and said, “Emma, you aren’t worth it.” Those words had been embedded in my heart ever since. Until today, when I finally got to return them. I grabbed his collar, looking him in the eye, and enunciated every word: “Carter. You aren’t worth it.” Carter went silent for a moment. Then, he let out a self-deprecating laugh. He brought the phone back to his ear and told Chloe, “Wait for me. I’m coming to get you.” Without looking at me again, he got up, slammed the door, and left. 6 The next day, photos of Carter getting into a physical brawl with another man over Chloe spread through the Manhattan elite circles. It was the first time his affairs with other women had caused such a public spectacle. Paparazzi swarmed the front of my house. When I tried to leave, they surrounded me, firing off questions. Carter’s company had grown exponentially over the years, giving him massive influence on Wall Street. Young, obscenely wealthy, and handsome, he was practically a celebrity online. A young female reporter shoved a recorder in my face. “Mrs. Sterling, do you have any comments regarding Mr. Sterling and Chloe Jenkins?” I kept walking, not even looking back as I countered, “One is a man committing adultery, and the other is a homewrecker who knows exactly what she’s doing. What exactly do you want me to say?” The girl chased after me. “But I heard that when Mr. Sterling was at his poorest, you dumped him for money!” “Then, when he made it big, you emotionally manipulated him and used underhanded tactics to force him to marry you…” “Now that Mr. Sterling has found true love, he and Chloe are a perfect match. You’re the one stubbornly clinging to the title of Mrs. Sterling and calling others homewreckers.” “Don’t you think you’re the one being a bully?” I stopped in my tracks, turned with a cold smile, and snatched the press badge hanging around her neck. She was an intern. Tucked behind her press pass was a student ID from Easton University. I looked at her calmly. “You’re Chloe’s friend, aren’t you?” “Back then, Carter used every ruthless tactic in the book to force me to marry him. Do you really think I wanted this?” “Everyone in our circle knows the truth. You really didn’t know? Or did you just come here to throw mud at me to help your little sorority sister climb the ranks?” Her expression faltered. Panicked, she snatched her badge back and defended herself self-righteously: “Yes, Chloe is my friend, but I’m a journalist! Everything I say is objective and fair.” “If you really didn’t want to marry Mr. Sterling, then why won’t you divorce him now that he loves someone else?” I smiled and opened my mouth to reply, but suddenly, my nose started bleeding again. I looked a mess. Someone in the crowd laughed. “Mrs. Sterling talks a big game about not caring and being forced into marriage, but she’s so stressed out she’s giving herself nosebleeds!” I reached up with a fingertip and wiped the blood from my lip. Calmly, I said, “I’m not stressed. I’m just sick. I’m dying, so I get nosebleeds a lot lately.” The crowd suddenly fell dead silent. Nobody was laughing anymore. Only that girl kept going. “Cut the act. You get a little nosebleed and suddenly you’re playing the terminal illness card for pity.” “I am so sick of women like you. Pulling the ‘I’m dying’ stunt just to fight over a man. You’re a disgrace to women everywhere.” She flipped her ponytail and marched off. Watching her back, I realized she was just as repulsive as Chloe.

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I told my best friend that her boyfriend already had five wives back in Africa. She sneered at me with pure disdain. “I know you’re just jealous of me. So what? Are any of them as brilliant or beautiful as I am?” The next thing I knew, she brought him along to corner and threaten me. Still, I couldn’t bear to see her life ruined, so I told her parents everything. Her parents couldn’t thank me enough. They immediately locked her in her room to save her from herself. It wasn’t until her boyfriend flew back to Africa with another girl that her parents finally let her out. But instead of taking responsibility, her parents wept and blamed me for everything, telling her it was all my doing. Consumed by a burning rage, she secretly poisoned my drink and murdered me. Then, she smeared my name across every social media platform, spreading disgusting, explicit rumors about me. My mother, consumed by grief and fury, rushed to her house to demand justice—only to be mocked and literally provoked to a fatal heart attack by her parents. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the exact day she was bragging about becoming a tribal queen. This time, without me standing in her way, I’m going to sit back and watch her claim her “royal” crown. Chapter 1 “Audrey! He proposed! He said if I go back to Africa with him, he’ll make me his tribal queen!” I opened my eyes. My best friend, Tiffany Vance, was rolling around on my dorm bed, ecstatically waving a photo of her boyfriend. “What do you think if I drop out of the Stanford Master’s track and just go with him? His family is insanely rich and powerful anyway.” In my past life, an upperclassman in my sorority had already warned me about this guy. He was a lazy, shiftless freeloader who already had five wives back home. So when Tiffany said she wanted to throw away her education to follow him, I did everything in my power to stop her. But she just sneered with utter contempt. “So what? Are any of them as brilliant or beautiful as I am?” I shook my head, pulled out my phone, and showed her a real, documented news report. I told her about an American girl years ago who was tricked into a remote village by a con artist, had her passport burned, and endured unspeakable torture. Tiffany let out a cold laugh, completely unbothered. “That’s just because she was incompetent and couldn’t hold onto a man’s heart. My babe is right—you’re just green with envy! “Ugh, I was actually planning to invite you over to enjoy the luxury life once I became queen. Now? You don’t deserve it.” With that, she blocked my number, unfriended me on Instagram, and stormed out without looking back. That evening, when I went out to grab takeout, Tiffany and her boyfriend cornered me on a quiet campus path. “Babe, she’s the one who said you’re a piece of trash. I had a massive fight with her for you, look, I even blocked her everywhere!” Her boyfriend gave her a satisfied kiss on the forehead, then turned to me, his face morphing into a terrifying, menacing scowl. In thick, heavily accented English, he growled: “I’m warning you, stay the hell away from my girl. If I catch you near her again, I’ll beat you to a pulp.” I stumbled backward in fear—not just because of his hideous, violent expression, but because a rancid, overpowering stench was radiating from him, making my eyes water. It smelled like he hadn’t showered in months. Tiffany was much shorter than him, her head barely reaching his armpit. Standing right there in the epicenter of that sour, putrid body odor… I couldn’t even begin to imagine the horror. After delivering their warning, they aggressively started making out right in front of me. The scene was too foul to witness. I bolted. Even though Tiffany cut ties with me, I still couldn’t bear to watch her jump into an abyss. I called her parents. “Mr. and Mrs. Vance, Tiffany is dating a guy at our school with a terrifying reputation. Please, you need to talk some sense into her!” Hearing this, her parents thanked me profusely. They drove to campus that very night, dragged Tiffany back home, and locked her securely in her room. During the weeks Tiffany was grounded, her boyfriend quickly found a new target, and the two of them happily jetted off to Africa together. When Tiffany was finally let out, she threatened to cut off her family completely. Terrified of losing her, her parents wept and pinned all the blame on me: “It was all your friend Audrey’s idea! She kept whispering in our ears that your boyfriend was a dangerous criminal, forcing us to lock you up. If you want to hate someone, hate her!” Nursing a murderous grudge, Tiffany returned to campus. The moment I wasn’t looking, she slipped poison into my water flask, killing me. After I died, she deepfaked my photos and leaked them across Reddit and GreekRank, fabricating disgusting, explicit lies about my personal life. My mother, broken-hearted and furious, stormed into their house to demand justice, but Tiffany’s parents relentlessly mocked and berated her until she suffered a fatal heart attack right on their doorstep. This time, without me standing in her way, I want to see if she can successfully wear that crown. Chapter 2 “Whatever you decide, babe, I’m backing you up a hundred percent. “Your boyfriend sounds like an absolute emperor over there. If you go, wouldn’t that make you the ultimate Queen?” I playfully bent my knee in a mock curtsy. “All hail Her Royal Highness!” This sent Tiffany’s vanity through the roof. She laughed triumphantly for a good minute before narrowing her eyes, scanning me up and down. “Audrey, why don’t you come with me? I can totally hook you up with one of his brothers. “I’ll be the Queen, and you can be a Princess. Deal?” Ah. I wondered why Tiffany, who usually kept secrets from me, suddenly ran over to ask for my opinion. Turns out she was terrified of going alone and wanted a sidekick to drag along. I intentionally snatched her boyfriend’s photo, putting on a face of absolute adoration. “Oh my god, can you share his contact info? I heard guys over there can marry multiple wives anyway. We’re sisters—it doesn’t matter which one of us gets to be the queen, right?” Tiffany’s face instantly dropped. She snatched the photo back, stuffing it into her pocket, and snapped, “Hands off your best friend’s man. Don’t you have any morals?” Suppressing my intense disgust, I linked my arm through hers and pouted playfully. “I just want to stay close to you! Once you’re a tribal queen, how am I supposed to see you whenever I want?” Tiffany bared her teeth in a smug, wide grin. “True. Fine, I won’t hold it against you!” Right on cue, her phone rang. It was her boyfriend, demanding she meet him at a motel. Hanging up, Tiffany leaned in mysteriously and whispered that before leaving for Africa, she needed to “create a powerful anchor” to lock her boyfriend down, ensuring her royal status was secure. Enduring the nauseating wave of her odor, I walked her to the campus gates and waved goodbye. If she didn’t leave right then, I was going to throw up my dinner from last night. Spending so much time with him had clearly ruined Tiffany’s own hygiene. From that day on, Tiffany completely stopped showing up to classes. Our academic advisor was furious and left dozens of voicemails for her parents. She was an only child, and her parents doted on her blindly. The moment the advisor hung up, they drove straight to campus and cornered me right at the entrance of my dorm building. Since I was Tiffany’s only real friend on campus, I was always their first point of contact for any emergency. In my past life, I was more than happy to help them. I never expected them to repay my kindness with cold-blooded betrayal. The moment Tiffany’s mother saw me, she dropped to her knees, grabbing my hands and weeping dramatically. “Audrey, please! Ask yourself, haven’t I always treated you like my own daughter? You can’t just stand by and watch our Tiffany ruin herself!” With that, she whipped out a stack of crisp hundred-dollar bills from her purse and shoved them into my hands, sobbing. “You don’t even have to ask, I will gladly pay you. Just tell us where she is!” Students were constantly drifting past the dorm entrance. They were instantly fooled by her pathetic, weeping performance and began turning on me. “Wow, talk about a gold digger. Extorting her best friend’s grieving parents? Gross.” “Right? I heard she got a full ride for a Master’s track. Clearly, her morals are completely bankrupt. We should report this to the Dean tomorrow—maybe they’ll revoke her spot and open it up for someone else.” “Disgusting. I’m recording this and posting it on TikTok so everyone can see what a monster she is. Don’t let her ruin anyone else.” I rubbed my temples. Dealing with this family of manipulative grifters was exhausting. I dialed 911 right then and there, turned on the speakerphone, and handed it directly to Tiffany’s mother. “Mrs. Vance, I haven’t seen Tiffany in days either. For her safety, let’s let the police handle it immediately.” Her mother’s face stiffened awkwardly. She knew exactly what kind of trashy things her daughter was up to and desperately wanted to avoid getting law enforcement involved. Seeing her hesitate, the crowd of students chimed in to encourage her. “Don’t be scared, ma’am! We’ve got your back!” “Yeah, there are so many fake friends these days. Who knows if this girl did something to your daughter!” “Exactly, don’t waste time! Tell the dispatcher everything!” Chapter 3 Left with no choice, Tiffany’s mother stammered through an explanation of the situation to the dispatcher. Within a short while, the police traced her phone ping to a sketchy, hourly-rate motel down the highway. They dispersed the crowd to protect the “victim’s” privacy. But of course, some drama-obsessed students secretly followed them, opening a live broadcast on their phones. I made sure to stay far away. If Tiffany saw me there, she would find a way to blame me for the humiliation. Instead, I watched the livestream safely from my dorm room. As the viewer count exploded, it seemed like half the university was tuned in. On screen, Tiffany’s mother looked green. She was terrified of two possibilities: either her daughter was there voluntarily doing something shameful, or she was actually kidnapped. Either way, with this much publicity, her daughter’s reputation was going to be utterly trashed. She tried to call off the investigation and tell the officers to leave, but the police, fearing a dangerous suspect might be inside, insisted on verifying Tiffany’s safety before clearing the scene. Soon, the officers kicked the motel room door open, with Tiffany’s parents trailing right behind them. An absolutely grotesque, unspeakable scene filled the screen. The livestream chat went completely wild, comments flying at hyper-speed: [Ew, what the hell! I need bleach for my eyes!] [College kids these days are wilding out, omg!] Just as the chat was reaching a fever pitch, the stream was abruptly banned. Someone immediately created a burner account to restart the stream for clout. In the video, Tiffany’s parents’ faces drained of color, turning a ghostly white before flushing a deep, violent crimson. The police interrogated them repeatedly, but Tiffany kept screaming that everything was completely consensual, making her dad look like he wanted to slap her into next week. Once the police confirmed it was just a massive, trashy misunderstanding, they washed their hands of it and left. Then came the main event. Since her parents doted on their precious daughter too much to lay a finger on her, they directed a hundred percent of their fury toward her boyfriend. Tiffany’s dad let out a feral roar, raising a fist to smash it directly into the guy’s face. But before the fist could connect, her dad let out a pathetic shriek and went flying across the room, crashing into the wall. The boyfriend cracked his knuckles and snapped his fingers in a mocking, arrogant gesture. Instead of checking on her bruised father, Tiffany stood by the bed, clapping her hands and squealing with delight. “Babe, you are incredible! That was so alpha! God, I love you so much!” Fueled by her worship, the boyfriend grew even more arrogant, pounding his chest like a gorilla and flexing his muscles. Tiffany’s mother wanted to help her husband up, but one threatening glare from the boyfriend froze her in her tracks. She collapsed into a corner, slapping her own chest and wailing hysterically. “It’s all because of that miserable bitch, Audrey! I see it clearly now—she’s intentionally trying to tear our family apart! “Tiffany, you can’t let her blind you! Your father has a terrible heart condition! Go find that Audrey girl and beat her to death!” Hearing my name, Tiffany’s expression shifted drastically. Then, her eyes darted around as a twisted idea formed, and she dragged her boyfriend out the door. Shoot. They were coming for me. This family was more relentless than a curse. I quickly started throwing things into a bag, intending to go home and lay low. But then I stopped. Tiffany knew my home address. If she couldn’t find me at school, she would terrorize my mother. There was no running away from this. I walked out and found a highly public, heavily crowded quad on campus, sitting down calmly to await her arrival. Chapter 4 Tiffany marched up, dragging her boyfriend behind her. But to my utter surprise, she looked… thrilled? Baring her teeth in a massive grin, she slid into the seat right next to me, gripping my arm tightly. “Audrey, you are an absolute genius! I was so worried my parents would stand in our way, but look at them now! They won’t dare say a single word against us!” I forced a stiff, awkward smile. She leaned down, whispering directly into my ear, “Hehe, and this actually proved to my babe that my love for him is stronger than my bond with my own parents. He’s going to worship me even more now.” I was genuinely horrified by her psychological gymnastics, but I kept nodding in mock agreement. Two days later, Tiffany’s parents had the audacity to text me as if nothing had happened, asking me to help them trick Tiffany into coming home. I blocked their numbers instantly. They didn’t dare show their faces on campus anymore, utterly terrified of getting thrashed by her boyfriend again. In the weeks that followed, her parents went completely silent. Tiffany disappeared from campus for over two months; word was her parents had filed for an extended medical leave of absence for her. According to a sorority senior, the boyfriend couldn’t get ahold of Tiffany, so he simply moved on and found a new girl to hook up with. No wonder my left eyelid had been twitching lately. The timeline was realigning itself with my past life. I immediately tracked down the boyfriend’s new target. I laid out his entire history, telling her exactly how many girls he was juggling at once. Fortunately, this girl actually had a brain; she dumped him on the spot and even bought me a Starbucks drink to thank me. I couldn’t help but feel a wave of irony. The only one who treated that human garbage like a priceless treasure was Tiffany. After getting dumped, the boyfriend’s reputation on campus was entirely ruined. Desperate, he turned his sights back to his easiest mark: Tiffany. He somehow dug up her home address and began harassing her family, showing up at their house every single day to cause a scene. And just like that, Tiffany’s locked-down heart began to throb with wild romance once more. Her parents sneaked onto campus during a window when the boyfriend wasn’t around, cornering me right outside my dorm room again. With tears and snot streaming down her face, Tiffany’s mother dropped to her knees, attempting to guilt-trip me into submission. “Audrey, please! Tiffany is on a hunger strike at home! Her body is going to give out! You’re her best friend, you have to do something! If all else fails… why don’t you try to seduce that man away from her? “Honestly, this is your fault too. If you had stopped her aggressively from the very beginning, she wouldn’t be this deeply infatuated! You need to atone for what you did!” I snapped. I couldn’t swallow this garbage for one more second. “Are you insane, lady? Did I force them into that motel room? You can’t even control your own daughter, and you expect a total outsider to manage her life?” Ever since the motel livestream incident, most of the building knew about the Vance family drama. Several girls with a strong sense of justice immediately stepped up to back me up. “Seriously, fix your own trashy family instead of harassing other people. Get psychological help.” “Where is the resident advisor? Why do we keep letting these delusional strangers into our hall? It’s ruining the vibe.” Tiffany’s mother opened her mouth to screech back, but her husband quickly leaned down, whispering something urgent in her ear. Flustered, the two of them shuffled away like beaten dogs. I thought they had finally given up, but over the weekend, while walking down a quiet path on my way home, someone blindsided me from behind. Everything went black. When I regained consciousness, I found myself tied to a chair inside Tiffany’s house. She was currently throwing a tantrum, smashing decor against the walls. Seeing me wake up, her parents rushed over with oily smiles, untying my hands. “Audrey, sweetie, we know you’re a good girl. We were truly desperate, or we would never have resorted to this. Please, just talk some sense into Tiffany.” I recoiled, pulling my hands away. But then a thought struck me: if I defied them openly right now, there was no telling what desperate, violent things this unhinged family would do to me. I forced a compliant smile and nodded. Still paranoid, Tiffany’s mother confiscated my phone before unlocking the door to Tiffany’s bedroom, shoving me inside, and immediately locking it behind me. The moment Tiffany saw me, she dropped the expensive collectible figurine she was about to smash and threw her arms around me. “Audrey! What took you so long? Is my babe losing his mind out there? “My psycho parents took my phone, so I can’t text him. You have to message him for me! I’m terrified he’ll do something tragic if he thinks I abandoned him!” Suddenly, Tiffany cut herself off, doubling over and dry-heaving violently into a trash can. Though I had never witnessed it in person before, I had seen it enough on TV to know instantly—she was pregnant. Tiffany and I locked eyes, and I knew she realized that I knew. I knocked loudly on the bedroom door, calling out to her parents that Tiffany had finally calmed down and was craving the specialized wontons from the diner downtown. Her parents exchanged a thrilled look. Her dad whipped out a fifty-dollar bill, hesitated, and reluctantly handed it to me. “Audrey, thank you for the trouble. Keep whatever change is left as a tip!” The moment I left the house, I noticed her mother tailing me from a distance. I intentionally slipped through the back door of the busy diner, sprinted to a nearby pharmacy, bought a digital pregnancy test, and hid it securely inside my sports bra. When I returned, her parents patted me down thoroughly, even checking the plastic takeout bags multiple times. Once they were satisfied I hadn’t smuggled a phone, they let me back into the room. A few minutes later, I stared at the digital display in Tiffany’s hand showing a clear, undeniable PREGNANT. I fell into deep thought.

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I am an original singer-songwriter in the music industry. I’ve elevated countless singers to the absolute pinnacle of pop, but I myself remain under the radar. The Masked Singer invited me to be a judge, but I chose to be a contestant instead. During the first round, I critiqued the other contestants: “The vocals are just okay. The vocal runs were handled poorly.” “This song isn’t written very well at all.” Netizens exploded: [Who the hell is this? So arrogant!] [This is a track written by Sienna, the collective Godmother of the music industry! I’ve never seen anyone so full of themselves!] [Can we just eliminate this woman already?] After my performance, the entire internet was torn between tearing me down and praising my vocals. But when I finally took off my mask, the whole web went into a collective meltdown: [Wait… who is this?!] The host teased, “You’ve been calling her your Godmother for so long, but now that the Godmother is standing right in front of you, you don’t even recognize her?” 1 I was right in the middle of fixing a track for Tyler Hayes when the producers called me. To beg for a song, Tyler had been shadowing me every day. It was beyond annoying. Of course, that wasn’t the main reason I agreed to write for him. It was because I saw a leaked screenshot of him in a group chat, asking: “Hey, if I make my favorite songwriter my girlfriend, does that mean I get an endless supply of hit tracks?” That scared me straight. I immediately opened my laptop and pulled an all-nighter to finish his song. This girl right here was being targeted. Time to pay him off with a track and run. 2 “Are you absolutely sure you’re inviting me to be a judge?” I asked again, feeling a bit resentful. “Well, Ms. Sienna, if you’d prefer, you could just be on the guessing panel,” the producer on the other end said, his tone incredibly cautious. I clicked my tongue in distaste. “Are there really no other options?” The producer froze, his voice tinged with a slight panic. “Ma’am, with your A-list status…” “Can’t I just be a contestant?” I was the ultimate behind-the-scenes ghost in the music industry!! Everyone considered me a breath of fresh air—a mysterious top-tier legend who never appeared on reality shows or variety programs. But the truth was… nobody ever invited me! My reputation had been hyped to the stratosphere, so obviously, I couldn’t lower my status to beg for a spot on a show. It had been ages since I stood on a massive stage. The feeling of the spotlight hitting your skin? It’s pure magic. Especially a show like this, where you wear a mask. You just go up, enjoy the stage, do a one-and-done round, and leave. It sounded perfect. “Wait… Ms. Sienna, are you serious?” The producer’s voice was literally trembling. I sighed, feigning regret. “Is that a no? If it’s a no, then I’ll just…” forget it. “Yes! Yes! Absolutely yes! Ma’am, we will make it happen!” “Awesome!” In my excitement, my finger slipped and hit “Send.” I accidentally sent the unedited, flawed demo to Tyler Hayes. Before I could unsend it, a message popped up. [Thank you, Sienna! It’s incredible. I love it.] [Should I ask for any revisions?] [You’re joking, right? A track from Sienna is flawless. No revisions needed.] I hesitated. The song genuinely had a flaw that could slightly tarnish my pristine reputation. But whatever. I was practically coerced into writing it anyway. Let it be. 3 Turning my attention to an exclusive indie-pop group chat, Tyler’s messages were glaringly bright. [Sienna wrote a song for me!] [She even asked if I needed any edits!] [Too bad I’m going on a reality show soon, I don’t have time for edits.] I stared at the screen in silence. Don’t tell me… we’re going on the exact same show? 4 Half a month later, I heard the show was switching from a pre-recorded format to live-streaming. The moment I stepped out of my hotel and into the production van, the live broadcast had already begun. The scoring system: 4 judges (100 points each), a 10-person guessing panel (10 points each), and 500 audience members (1 point each). Total: 1000 points. Looking at the roster, literally everyone except the audience had more public clout than me. I knew all of them, but wasn’t close to any of them. After all, the only way an introvert makes friends is by waiting for an extrovert to adopt them. I routinely stayed locked in my apartment for weeks at a time. No extrovert had found me yet. 5 Following the PA’s instructions, I walked the red carpet, headed backstage, and drew my number. Lucky me. I was the last to perform. Tonight, out of 6 singers, the last place would be eliminated, and the second-to-last put on probation. Thrilling. Every drop of blood in my body was screaming for the stage. Backstage, I watched the live feed on a monitor. The judges, wearing the show’s signature masks, were making their grand musical entrances. The production team had hyped up the judges’ reveals to bring massive traffic to the premiere. The first was Arthur Vance, my mentor and the undisputed Godfather of Music. He had been retired for years; the producers must have paid a fortune to get him. The second was Richard Cole, a major label boss with a ruthless eye for talent. Any song he backed went viral instantly. The third was Ethan Pierce, a massive pop star who perfectly blended idol traffic with genuine talent. I was the one who wrote his breakout hit. The fourth was Diana Cross, a veteran pop diva who notoriously despised singers carried by internet fame—making Ethan her prime target. As their intros wrapped up, the live chat was already rolling. [I thought the producers were baiting us! They actually got them?! Aren’t they worried Diana and Ethan will literally fight?] [I want them to fight. That’s good TV!] [Hehe, I’m actually hyped for this.] 6 The judges took their seats. The host stepped up, the guessing panel did their comedic bits, and finally, the contestants took the stage. The first singer wore a goofy fairy-tale costume. Surprisingly, they chose to debut a brand-new song. That’s usually a death sentence in singing competitions. But when the credits flashed on the screen: Lyrics & Music: Sienna. The live audience gasped. “Whoa!” “Who is this guy?!” “Of course it’s a Sienna track! You can tell from the first chord!” “I’m literally crying, it’s so good!” “He must be an A-lister. Sienna hasn’t written for anyone in ages!” In the various waiting rooms, contestants were showering the performance with praise for the cameras. My assigned PA, a girl named Lily, seemed to be an introvert too. Our room was dead silent. I hesitated. Should I pretend to be an extrovert? 7 Lily finally broke the ice. “This singer has to be an A-lister, right? I can’t believe Sienna wrote a song for him!” “No,” I replied flatly. “He’s a B-lister at best.” Lily froze, her voice cracking. “A B-lister?” “He mishandled the vocals. There’s an obvious flaw in his riff on the bridge.” “And…” Lily’s smile stiffened. “This is a track written by Sienna.” I nodded earnestly. “I know. The song isn’t written very well at all.” Lily was physically shaking. Her brain was short-circuiting trying to figure out how to do damage control. The room fell into a heavy silence. I twitched my lips awkwardly. Did I say something wrong? “Well, actually…” I started. “Cut it! Cut the feed!” Lily practically screamed, trying to drown out whatever I was about to say. The cameraman quietly mumbled, “We’re live on a national stream.” Everyone in the room looked at me like I had just committed a felony. I offered a stiff smile and awkwardly glanced at the live chat monitor. The viewer count was skyrocketing. The engagement rate was going through the roof. [WHAT THE HELL?!] [Is she seriously trashing our goddess Sienna?!] [This is a track by the Godmother of the industry! I’ve never seen anyone so arrogant!] [This show was going so well. This woman is an absolute stain on the program!] 8 I leaned in, squinting at the screen. “Sienna is just a person, right? We don’t need to deify her.” Lily scrambled to cut me off again. “Girl, you are my favorite person, but please stop talking! Are you even in the music industry? That’s Sienna!” I rolled my eyes. Fine. I won’t say anything. But the comments wouldn’t stop. [My God, is this just a scripted villain arc?] [Let’s pray she gets eliminated round one! Take off the mask and pack your bags! I swear I’ll make sure she never works in this town again!] [Is this the script the producers handed her???] [I don’t get it. Who could possibly survive the backlash of this script?] 9 I was put on a mandatory mute by my panic-stricken PA. I watched as the next singer took the stage dressed as Snow White. Her song choice? Autumn in Brooklyn. Yeah, one of mine. The moment she opened her mouth, she stunned the room. Even the four judges couldn’t hide their approving smiles. “That’s A-list talent right there,” one murmured. The live chat was a sea of praise. I nodded along. This girl had a gorgeous figure. Respect. The vocals were solid. If I could tailor-make a track for her, it would be flawless. Lily carefully studied my face. “Feline Empress, Snow White sang that beautifully, didn’t she?” I nodded. “She’s definitely good.” “But…” The moment that word left my mouth, the atmosphere in the room solidified into ice. Lily gasped for air, asking in a trembling whisper, “Empress… you’re not about to say something blasphemous again, are you?” Me: “???” “This song actually isn’t a great fit for Snow White. Her tone is a bit thin, and she sang it too pop-heavy. If she altered the bridge like this—ahhh~ ah~ ahhh~—it would carry much more weight.” I casually belted out two lines as a demonstration. The live chat numbers started spinning like a slot machine again! Lily and the cameraman exchanged horrified looks. I looked at them, confused. “Our stream numbers are peaking. Why do you guys look like someone died?” Lily looked like she was about to cry. “Ma’am, have you looked at the comments?” I paused, leaning closer to the monitor. “I’m a little nearsighted. Forgot my contacts.” [HOLY CRAP, THIS B*TCH IS TOXIC!] [Sienna’s songs are NOT for you to casually remix! Your riff didn’t even match the lyrics!] [This has to be premeditated. She’s using Sienna for clout!] [Sienna is the untouchable holy grail of our industry. How dare she tarnish her work?] [VOCAL THIEF, STAY AWAY FROM MY IDOL!] 10 I was genuinely baffled. “Does Sienna really have this good of a reputation?” Lily leaned in, her face pale. “Ma’am, Sienna is known as the Godmother of all musicians. Her status is unshakable. Your repeated jabs look like you’re targeting her, or desperately trying to steal her spotlight.” Wait. I have clout in this industry? “This is going to ruin your future career in pop!” Lily warned. I started to regret my choices. Maybe I should have just been a judge? Now I couldn’t even speak freely. I kept my mouth shut for the rest of the wait. I was practically suffocating. But looking at Lily’s pleading puppy-dog eyes, I felt bad. Making a cute girl stress out is a sin. “Feline Empress, please prepare for standby.” Finally. Lily helped me up, offering one last pep talk. “Ma’am, I wasn’t trying to scare you! This stage respects pure talent. Just give it your all, sing perfectly, and no one can vote you out!” On stage, the host gripped his microphone. “Next up is our final singer of the night, the Feline Empress! She seems to have… unique opinions regarding Ms. Sienna’s work. What kind of performance will she bring? Let’s find out.” The applause, which had been polite and steady all night, suddenly dwindled to almost nothing. I grabbed my mic. Every vein in my body was pulsing with adrenaline. Exciting. Thrilling. A tremor I hadn’t felt in years. I thrive on playing against the odds!

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