Category: English

1 The moment Gavin brought his new mistress home, I started screaming and crying, throwing yet another hysterical tantrum. As usual, Gavin looked at me with pure disgust, shielding the girl behind his back and telling me to stop being insane. My rage was boiling over. Just as I was about to raise my hand to strike, a familiar, long-forgotten mechanical voice chimed inside my mind. “Dear Host, your five-year submissive trophy-wife mission has officially ended. Emotional manipulation has been deactivated.” “Please claim your one-billion-dollar cash prize and your divorce certificate. Wishing you a wonderful life!” My high-raised hand paused mid-air. I let it drop gently, smoothing the wrinkles on Gavin’s collar. Then, I reached past him and softly stroked the mistress’s hair, marveling at how smooth and perfect it was. It was definitely a head of hair worthy of marrying into wealth. I let out a sudden, ecstatic laugh, turned on my heel, and bolted out the door. … Gavin’s grip was brutal, clamping down hard around my wrist. He towered over me, his gaze dripping with cold contempt. “Are you done making a scene? Aren’t you embarrassed, acting like this in front of guests?” Behind his broad shoulders, his mistress shrank back, throwing me a smug, mocking smirk. I stared at Gavin’s face, the face I had been desperately, pathologically obsessed with for five long years. I felt a sudden wave of detachment. Just seconds ago, that mechanical voice had vanished. And with it, the submissive, pathetic personality I had been forced to play was finally gone. Five seconds passed. I stopped fighting. The wild obsession and desperate love in my eyes receded like a pulling tide, leaving behind nothing but pure, blissful relief. Gavin froze, caught off guard. Taking advantage of his confusion, I yanked my arm back with a sharp, forceful twist. As if his touch had left a layer of filth on my skin, I rubbed my wrist vigorously against my jeans. Then, I walked over to the coffee table in the living room. Lying right there was the divorce agreement Gavin had thrown in my face the night before. At the time, I had wept hysterically, kneeling on the floor and begging him not to abandon me. But now, a massive grin spread across my face. My steps toward the pen were light, almost bouncy with anticipation. I signed my name and pressed my thumbprint onto the paper in one fluid motion. Gavin stared at me, his eyes wide with disbelief. “What are you doing? Do you honestly think this reverse psychology is going to…” I slammed the papers hard against his chest. The force of the impact actually made him stumble back half a step. “I signed it. I’ll see you at city hall tomorrow.” I looked him dead in the eye, my voice crisp, clear, and ringing with absolute certainty. “If you back out of this, you’re a dog.” With that, without giving his dumbfounded mistress a single glance, I threw my pre-packed bags over my shoulder and walked out of the villa, never looking back. Once I was safely in the back of a taxi, my hands began to shake as I pulled out my phone. I opened my banking app. Logged in. Checked the balance. Hundreds, thousands, millions, tens of millions, hundreds of millions… One billion. One billion dollars, sitting in cold, hard cash. I took a deep, shaky breath, my heart hammering against my ribs. Five years ago, a bizarre system had bound itself to me. It forced me into a marriage with Gavin, requiring me to play the part of a miserable, submissive wife. The rules were strict: never strike back, never argue, and always show him unwavering, desperate devotion, no matter how much he humiliated or neglected me. Worse still, to make the act convincing, the system had manipulated my hormone levels. It made me genuinely, painfully love him. For five years, I served him like a maid and trailed after him like a dog. Whenever he stayed out all night, I suffered from excruciating insomnia. Whenever he brought women home, my heart shattered, yet I could only beg him to spare me a single glance. Thinking about it now, a familiar, sharp pang echoed in my chest. I instinctively pressed a hand to my heart. It was a residual, biological reflex, a lingering echo of the desperate attachment that had been hardwired into me for half a decade. Was I seriously still feeling sad over that piece of trash? I looked back down at my phone screen. I counted the zeros again. Still one billion dollars. The suffocating tightness in my chest vanished instantly. Gavin was wealthy, sure, but his company’s net worth was tied up in fixed assets and heavy liabilities. If you asked him to produce one billion dollars in liquid cash right this second, he couldn’t do it even if he sold himself. I patted my chest, feeling the steady, strong beat of my heart, and let out a laugh. Loving Gavin brought nothing but heartbreak. But one billion dollars? Money would never betray me. 2 When you have a billion dollars, life becomes incredibly simple. Moving used to feel like losing a layer of skin, but now, it was just a matter of swiping a card. With enough money, a luxury penthouse overlooking the river downtown would gladly open its doors to you at a moment’s notice. Within three hours, I went from viewing the property to fully moving in. I didn’t have to lift a single finger; the building’s gold-star concierge handled every detail. As I lay stretched out on my new custom mattress, Gavin’s assistant, Ryan, called. His tone was polite, but the message was insulting. “Ma’am, Mr. Vance wanted me to convey that the villa is pre-marital property, so you have no right to its value. As for the car…” I put the call on speaker, inspecting my freshly manicured nails as I cut him off. “Tell Gavin I don’t want the house, and I find his car disgusting.” There was a stunned silence on the other end. “I have only one condition for the asset division,” I added. “I’m happy to walk away with absolutely nothing. Just make it fast.” “The faster, the better.” “Whoever drags this out is a coward.” The assistant had clearly never dealt with a wealthy divorcee so eager to be cast out with nothing. He stammered, unable to find his words. Through the speaker, I heard a faint, arrogant scoff. It was a familiar sound, dripping with that insufferable, high-and-mighty superiority. Gavin. “I told you she was just playing hard to get,” his voice drifted over the line. “Ignore her. Let her stew for two days, and she’ll crawl back on her own.” If this had happened before, I would have broken down, crying and begging him to listen. But now, I just rolled my eyes. The sheer delusion of this man was astounding. I hung up without another word. Arguing with an idiot was only going to slow down my spending. The next morning, I drove straight to Rodeo Drive. Standing outside the Hermes boutique, I pulled a dusty black card from my wallet. It was the allowance card Gavin had given me during our first year of marriage. To maintain my pious, “I only love you for who you are, not your money” persona, I hadn’t even memorized the card number over the last five years, let alone used it. I had even clipped coupons and hunted for discounts just to save him a few bucks. Looking back, my brain hadn’t just been full of water; it had been full of Gavin’s dirty bathwater. I snapped the black card in half and tossed it into a nearby trash can. Then, I pulled out my own personal card and walked into the store. “This, this, and that entire rack,” I said, pointing casually. “Except for those three colors, I’ll take everything.” The sales associate’s smile practically split her face. “Of course, ma’am! We’ll pack everything up for you immediately!” Card swiped. Pin entered. Transaction approved. Watching the long string of numbers print out on the receipt, I didn’t feel a single pang of regret. Instead, a wave of profound, liberating satisfaction washed over me. Spending money was fantastic. Just as I was instructing the staff to deliver the bags to my new penthouse, a sweet, fragile voice echoed from behind me. “Naomi?” I turned around. It was a small world indeed. Isla was standing at the entrance, clinging tightly to Gavin’s arm. She was holding an out-of-season bag that I had passed on, her face a mask of delicate, slightly provocative surprise. “What a coincidence, Naomi. Are you out shopping too?” As she spoke, she shrunk back slightly behind Gavin, as if she expected me to fly across the room and claw her face. “Gavin… is Naomi still mad at me? Maybe we should go somewhere else…” Gavin’s face darkened instantly. Dressed in a sharp, bespoke suit, he stared at me, his eyes filled with absolute irritation. “Naomi,” he sneered, his voice dropping an octave. “You really went to extreme lengths to track my schedule, didn’t you?” I blinked. “What?” He took a step forward, looking down at the shopping bags in my hands with a dismissive glare. “I finalized my schedule for the day only a few hours ago, and here you are.” “You even managed to bribe my secretary for my itinerary.” “What’s the plan? Are you trying to tell me you’ve changed your mind about the divorce?” The nearby shoppers and sales staff began to murmur, casting curious glances our way. Gavin pinched the bridge of his nose, looking thoroughly exhausted by my presence. “Stop wasting your time.” “Your pathetic display yesterday only made me realize how much you disgust me.” 3 Gavin stood there, radiating absolute confidence. He looked as though he expected me to drop to my knees and beg for his mercy at any second. I opened my mouth, ready to tell him he was out of his mind. But the words died on my tongue. Looking at his smug, self-satisfied expression, I suddenly smiled. “You’re right,” I said, nodding cheerfully as I met his gaze. “I tracked you down.” Gavin blinked, clearly not expecting me to admit it so easily. Beside him, Isla’s eyes flashed with a triumphant gleam she couldn’t quite hide. She gently tugged at Gavin’s sleeve, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. “Gavin, see? I told you she still cares about you…” She turned to me, her brow furrowing into a look of deep, self-sacrificing sorrow. “Naomi, it’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have let myself get caught between you two. If I’m the reason you’re fighting, I’ll just leave…” She said she would leave, but her feet remained glued to the floor. In fact, she pressed herself even closer to Gavin’s chest. The wealthy women browsing the boutique stopped what they were doing, their eyes darting between the three of us. I crossed my arms, watching Isla’s little performance like I was watching a cheap comedy. “You’re right, you shouldn’t have gotten between us,” I chuckled, my voice quiet but clear enough for everyone nearby to hear. “Do you actually feel proud of being a mistress? Coming out in public and shouting about it, are you that desperate for everyone to know you’re a homewrecker?” “Is the barrier to entry for your profession really this low now? No license required, just a thick face?” Isla’s face turned white. Her triumphant smirk froze, and the tears she was trying to force out dried up instantly. The whispers around us grew louder. “So she really is a homewrecker…” “She looks decent enough, but she’s doing that?” “Girls these days…” The critical glares pricked Isla like needles. Panicked and humiliated, she looked up at Gavin, her eyes pooling with real tears this time. “Gavin… I didn’t…” Gavin’s face turned livid. He pulled Isla behind him, turning a furious glare on me. “Naomi! Have you lost your mind?” He gritted his teeth, a vein throbbing at his temple. “Who gave you the right to humiliate Isla? You’re resorting to cheap, trashy insults just to force me back to you? How pathetic can you be?” I rolled my eyes. Honestly, how pathetic could he be? “Who has the time to play games with you?” I pulled my phone out of my bag and tapped on the calendar, thrusting the screen directly in front of his face. “I didn’t come here to watch you two put on a circus. It’s hurting my eyes.” My smile faded, replaced by a cold, sharp look. “I’m here to ask you: what time are we meeting at the registry office tomorrow to finalize the paperwork?” Gavin choked on his words. His theory of my “reverse psychology” was still fighting for dominance in his brain. He sneered. “Filing the papers? Do you honestly think threatening me with divorce is going to make me back down? Don’t play with fire, Naomi.” This man literally could not comprehend plain English. I took a step closer. “I don’t want the house. I don’t want the car. I will sign a clean-break agreement with zero claims. I’ll ask you one more time: what time are we signing?” I raised my voice slightly, my expression dripping with mockery. “You keep dodging the question, Gavin. Don’t tell me… you’re the one who can’t let go?” “Or are you just acting tough while trying to drag this out because you don’t want to lose me?” Sometimes, you have to fight fire with fire. The moment those words left my mouth, Isla was the first to panic. She clutched Gavin’s sleeve, her knuckles turning white as she looked up at him with desperation. “Gavin… does she really want to divorce? You’re going to agree to it, right?” If Gavin backed out now, his proud image in front of his new mistress would shatter. If he agreed, I would get exactly what I wanted. I had backed him into a corner. Staring into my eyes, which held absolutely no lingering affection, only pure annoyance, the first cracks began to appear in his blind arrogance. His fragile male ego could not handle being dismissed so casually. “Fine. Great.” Gavin let out a harsh, angry laugh, the words forced through his teeth. “You want a divorce? I’ll give you one.” He took a deep breath, raising his voice to salvage his pride in front of Isla. “Tomorrow morning, nine o’clock, right outside city hall!” Finally, some common sense. The weight lifted from my chest, and a bright smile spread across my face. “It’s a date.” I picked up my luxury purchases from the counter and turned to leave. At the door, I paused, turning back to throw a wink at Gavin, whose face was now darker than a storm cloud. “Don’t forget the time, Gavin.” “If you don’t show up, you’re a dog.” I walked out of the boutique without looking back, leaving Gavin standing there looking like he had swallowed a fly, while the onlookers tried to stifle their laughter. The next morning, I did a full face of makeup, choosing a bold, crimson lipstick. At exactly nine o’clock, I stood outside the registry office at city hall. The system had promised me that Gavin would show up. But by nine-thirty, the entrance was crowded with couples waiting to file their divorces, and I was still standing there entirely alone. Unbelievable. I pulled out my phone and sent Gavin a message. Blocked. I called his number. It rang for a long time before he finally answered. The sound of rustling papers came through the line, accompanied by his insufferable, smug tone. “What do you want?” I let out a sharp laugh. “Gavin, we agreed in front of a dozen people yesterday that whoever backed out was a dog. Are you planning a sudden species change?” Gavin sneered. “Naomi, this reverse psychology works once. Keep doing it and it just becomes pathetic.” “I didn’t show up for your own good. You have no job, and you’ve been out of the workforce for five years. Without me, you wouldn’t even know where your next meal is coming from.” “I’m pitying you, understand? Stop throwing tantrums and let me get back to work.” The line went dead. I stared at the screen, taking a deep, slow breath. Fine. You pity me? You think I’m helpless? You clearly haven’t seen a rabid dog bite. I stared at the road, my expression colder than a fishmonger’s.

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1 The first time I flew on a plane piloted by my husband, I was met by the flight crew. They smiled, “What a rare sight! Looks like Miles finally saved a ticket for you this time, ma’am.” I smiled back, “Nope, I snagged it myself.” Miles always reserved one ticket, and every single time, it went to his childhood friend, Scarlett Thorne. Even when my father was critically ill, and I needed to fly back to see him one last time. I never got that ticket. “Got it, got it. Must be for your wedding anniversary, giving Miles a surprise, right, Mrs. Shaw?” “After you land, Mrs. Shaw, you should ask Miles to take you to Crystal Lake. It’s absolutely stunning. He always takes amazing pictures of Scarlett there, they get hundreds of thousands of likes on social media.” I’d seen them. When I unexpectedly miscarried our first child and couldn’t reach Miles. I used to dream of it. Through years of broken promises, Crystal Lake became nothing more than a blue and white dream. “Don’t tell Miles I’m on the plane,” I said. They all nodded. “Understood, understood. A surprise, right?” “Miles will definitely be surprised.” Surprised? Perhaps. After all, I was going to find the most reputable obstetrics and gynecology hospital to terminate my last child with him. I no longer needed Crystal Lake. I wanted my freedom. … I only managed to grab an economy class seat. And even then, it was through a favor, costing me a hefty sum. As I was about to board, hurried footsteps sounded behind me. A girl ran up, panting, slapping her boarding pass onto the staff’s counter. “Oh? Scarlett, I thought you weren’t coming today.” Scarlett braced her hands on her knees, then lifted her flushed face, smiling at him. “Of course, I’d come.” “I’ve flown with Miles for six years. Have you ever seen me miss a flight?” I quietly stepped back a little. “Besides, he promised to take me to that trendy restaurant tonight,” Scarlett said. The staff hesitated, glancing at me, then at her. I subtly shook my head. Given Scarlett’s personality, she didn’t like her plans disrupted. Though she wouldn’t say anything out loud, she’d remember it, like a pebble in her shoe, occasionally acting out to annoy you. But she didn’t bother me. She bothered Miles. Miles and I had several arguments because of her, the worst time, I left home, and he, in a huff, didn’t come looking for me. A month-long cold war almost led to divorce. “Isabelle,” Scarlett noticed me. “What are you doing here?” My gaze fell on the necklace around her neck, a piece I had admired for a long time. Miles had lied to me, saying it was sold to someone else. Turns out, he gave it to Scarlett. “Shouldn’t I be here?” I countered. The girl pouted. “I’m just worried about you. At least let Miles get you a business class seat.” “Your back isn’t good, and you’re sitting so far back…” “You don’t need to worry about me,” I cut her off. Scarlett said nothing more, pushing past me and walking through the VIP channel. The door opened, revealing Miles standing in the jet bridge, waiting. Scarlett jogged over and hugged his arm. “Miles!” “That was close, I almost missed this flight today.” Miles gently ruffled her hair, smiling. “It’s no big deal.” “If you want to fly, I can always save a spot for you. This time is no different.” I was used to this scene. I should have stopped feeling the pain, become numb to it. The door slowly closed. From beginning to end, Miles never noticed me standing in the front row. “Miles Miller.” The door reopened. I didn’t understand why I called out to him. Perhaps when a person is at their most vulnerable, they instinctively seek support, just like when I had a severe hemorrhage after my miscarriage, and, in my delirium, kept calling Miles’s name. Miles looked at me, his eyes filled with surprise. “What are you doing here?” The exact same words as Scarlett. Was it so strange for me, his wife, to be by my husband’s side? A thousand words caught in my throat. When they finally reached my lips, only one sentence remained: “Don’t mind me. You two have fun.” 2 After boarding, Miles sent me a message. 【Are you upset?】 I wanted to ask him back, should I be happy? Should I applaud and cheer as I watched the boundless intimacy between him and Scarlett, their care and actions exceeding those of mere friends? The words were typed into the chatbox, then I deleted them one by one. It was pointless now. Even my hysterical questioning back then couldn’t elicit a single explanation. No matter how much I cried, argued, or even threatened, Miles still contacted Scarlett, still treated her well. It only made me look like a shrew. 【Don’t leave after we land. Scarlett and I will come find you. Let’s go to Crystal Lake together.】 【You’ve been talking about it for years. Go see it for yourself.】 I turned off my phone. The moment we landed, I went straight to the hospital. The surgery had been pre-booked; I could have it done immediately. When I woke, the sky was completely dark. Miles had called me, and sent messages, but I hadn’t been able to answer any of them. 【Who upset you? Throwing a tantrum again.】 【Never mind, I won’t wait for you. Scarlett’s celebrating her piano award today. I don’t want to argue with you on such an important day.】 Today was also our wedding anniversary. Only, Miles never remembered it. The next morning, I quietly handled my discharge papers alone, then took a lonely flight back to King’s Landing. Miles’s social media updated. It was a photo of Scarlett and a cat. The caption: “Little cat and you, both adorable.” A long time ago, Miles mentioned wanting a cat, but I’m allergic to cat fur. So he kept the cat at Scarlett’s place. Every day after work, his first stop wasn’t home, but Scarlett’s to play with the cat. They bathed the cat together, took it out for sun, and in front of it, called themselves Mom and Dad. What was I then? What was the child in my womb? I remember shortly after my miscarriage, Scarlett brought the cat to me, flaunting it. I had just suffered a major blow and was weak from illness, so I could only lie in bed, crying silently, unable to even make a sound. That cat even triggered my allergies. But Miles brushed it off, saying Scarlett was just being thoughtless, and swept the whole thing under the rug. 【I’ll be back tomorrow. Do you want any souvenirs?】 The pop-up message pulled my thoughts back. I glanced at the bag at the bottom of my closet. It was full of gifts Miles brought back for me when he and Scarlett went on trips. Fridge magnets and trinkets easily bought at tourist spots, beaded bracelets with misprinted names, and jade scraps Scarlett used for her own bracelets, then carved a few small beads for me. Too bad to throw away, but just taking up space to keep. I typed: 【No, thanks.】 The other side displayed “typing…” for a long time. Then, the chatbox fell silent. 3 When Miles returned, I was on the balcony, trying to save a few nearly dead flowers. “I asked you to buy some fertilizer to sprinkle on them. Did you forget?” He glanced at them. “Yeah.” “It wasn’t really on the way to the flower market, so I didn’t buy it.” I turned away, choosing not to look at him. I tenderly snipped the discolored branches. I knew it. I’d been meticulously caring for these flowers every day, but they weren’t getting better. Turns out, he hadn’t even buried any fertilizer. “If they’re dead, they’re dead,” he said. “Tonight I’ll drive you to the flower market, and we can buy some more.” “Just pull them out now. I’m going downstairs to take out the trash, can toss them along the way. The vase is pretty, we can keep…” “Shut up!” I yelled. Anyone would be angry if their beloved possession was treated with such disregard. Miles stopped speaking. He ignored me, carrying a large bag of groceries, and turned to the kitchen to cook. I didn’t even change my slippers, immediately went downstairs, and took a taxi to the flower market. “Owner, can you tell me if there’s any hope for these?” I showed the owner a picture of the flowers. He examined them for a while, then shook his head. “Get a new pot. Your flowers are in bad shape. I have plenty that are much better.” The owner suddenly looked up at me. “…You look familiar.” “Ah! I remember now! Your husband used to come here every day to buy you flowers.” “How come he hasn’t been around for almost two years?” I lowered my eyes, not answering the owner’s question. Just looking at the flowers on the screen. Two years. They no longer bloomed as beautifully as they did when Miles first gave them to me. Many leaves had fallen, and the flowers grew smaller and smaller. Of course, I knew they weren’t pretty enough anymore. But Miles never gave me new ones. So, they withered little by little in the pot, until they were beyond saving. “Alright.” I turned off my phone. “Show me some other flowers. I’ll get a new pot.” 4 As soon as I returned with the new flowers, Miles said to me, “You’re so impulsive.” “Didn’t eat dinner, didn’t say goodbye, just ran off.” “And you’re pregnant. What if someone pushed you and you fell in a place like that?” I ignored him. Walked onto the balcony and busied myself with the flowers. Miles went into the kitchen to reheat the food. After he finished, I finally sat at the dining table, surveying the spread. Meat broth with green onions floating in it, steamed eggs with a milky smell, and asparagus, which I detested, mixed into the cold salad. My appetite vanished instantly. I couldn’t help but ask, “Miles Miller, it’s been six years. Don’t you know what I can’t eat?” “What?” “I hate green onions; they have a weird smell. And why did you steam the eggs with milk? I’m lactose intolerant, it’ll give me an upset stomach. This asparagus is what I hate most; I’ve told you at least ten times. I hate it, I hate it! Why can’t you remember?! Why?!” My already gloomy mood tonight was subtly reaching its breaking point. It was crashing headfirst, looking for an outlet. “It’s not that serious…” “I remember all your habits and preferences. What about you? How can you forget even the simplest things?” I slammed my chopsticks on the table. He buried his head, silently eating his dinner. Just like before, resorting to avoidance, leaving me to process my negative emotions alone. I stood up, walked to Miles, grabbed his arm, and pulled up his sleeve. Revealing a hair tie on his wrist. “How can you remember that Scarlett always forgets her hair tie?” I opened his bag, dumping everything out. Sanitary pads, mosquito patches, a cartoon water bottle… all sorts of things. “Wow, you’re so thoughtful, Mr. Thoughtful,” I laughed. “She says one thing, and you treat it like gospel.” “Who exactly is your wife?” Miles swallowed his food, took a deep breath. Then he spoke, his tone flat. “Are you crazy?” “I’ve made dinner. Eat if you want, otherwise I’ll take you out to eat, or we can order takeout.” “There’s no need to drag Scarlett into this.” “Or maybe I’ll take you to the hospital tomorrow to get some medication. It feels like your pregnancy hormones are unstable, and you’re constantly getting angry for no reason. It’s tiring everyone out.” Suddenly, I had nothing more to say. I was tired too. “I have a flight tomorrow. I don’t want to argue with you,” he said. “Okay,” I nodded. “Then let’s sleep in separate rooms.” 5 I heard Miles talking to Scarlett on the balcony. The girl was saying playful things, making him laugh. They were discussing where to go for their vacation; Miles’s annual leave was in a month. “I want to go to Florence.” “Anything you want, I’m just there to accompany you,” Miles chuckled. “What about Isabelle, then?” “She’s pregnant, it’s not convenient for her to travel. I’ll hire a nanny to take care of her at home,” Miles paused. “After the first child miscarried like that, she has a trauma from it.” “I’ve spent a lot of energy these past few years taking her to doctors, for both therapy and physical conditioning. She finally got pregnant again, so nothing can go wrong with this one.” I couldn’t help but wonder what his expression would be if he knew the baby was already gone. Would he be as indifferent as usual? Would he cry? Would he hate me? Or would he forgive me, just as he forgave Scarlett when she caused my miscarriage back then? I pulled the blanket over my head and slowly drifted off to sleep. But the sounds of a thunderstorm, unbefitting a peaceful night, filled my ears. I was nearing my due date, already admitted to the hospital. That night, Scarlett called. She was crying and yelling on the other end, and I could only vaguely make out Miles’s name. My heart pounded wildly. “What happened to Miles?!” “Hello? Speak up! What happened to him?!” The call disconnected. When I tried calling back, no one answered. Miles’s phone was also off. I, heavily pregnant, ran towards home in the pouring rain, crying and shouting Miles’s name. Countless horrifying conjectures flashed through my mind. Did he get into a car accident? Did the gas explode while he was making me soup? I was terrified, my body cold and numb, biting down hard to run back home. But when I opened the door. They were having a party. Miles, who was princess-carrying Scarlett as part of a dare, met my eyes, which were red from the rain. Drip—drip— At first, I thought there was a leak somewhere. I looked down and saw blood all over the floor, only then realizing it was me. In the end, I suffered a severe hemorrhage and almost didn’t make it off the operating table. The baby had suffocated to death. I overheard the nurse say that when the baby was delivered, his face was bruised purple. Of course, I didn’t get to see him. Because Miles had already taken care of it. “How could you! How could you?!” “That was my flesh and blood! My child, carried for ten months. Why couldn’t I see him… he was due in just a few days…” I cried hysterically. The police came, investigated the situation, and then I learned that Scarlett had lost a dare that night. It was a punishment she had devised herself. This matter, in a broad sense, was grave—it cost a human life. In a narrow sense, it was trivial—they were just playing a game. Miles signed a letter of understanding behind my back. He kept it a secret. When I asked, he said Scarlett had been sent for rehabilitation. Turns out, he secretly hid her at his old family home. If Scarlett hadn’t gotten drunk and let it slip last month, I would never have known. My heart died instantly. That’s why I decided to terminate the pregnancy again. 6 When I woke up the next day, Miles had already prepared breakfast. The milk in the cup had been replaced with soy milk, and the green onions in the omelet were gone. “I saved a ticket for you. The flight departs this afternoon.” Only then did I look up at him. “What for?” “To get some fresh air,” he said. “So you don’t stay cooped up at home all day, overthinking everything.” Miles fiddled with his phone for a moment. Then my phone rang. The screen showed a business class ticket. But I didn’t want it anymore. “Today I don’t have a round trip. I’ll land, wait four hours, then take another flight to Japan.” “It’s cherry blossom season soon. You like flowers, we can go see them.” I didn’t reply. His unusual behavior finally made sense at check-in. “Where’s Scarlett?” I hid in the crowd, listening to the staff’s casual chat. “Scarlett has something on today; she really couldn’t make it.” “What a shame. Scarlett was talking about wanting to see the cherry blossom rain, but Miles changed his flight for her, and she’s not going anymore.” “Not entirely a shame, I guess. Miles called his wife instead.” So, it was my turn when others didn’t want it. I said nothing, checked in and boarded as if nothing were amiss, found my seat, and slept until landing. Miles met me, explaining, “I have some matters to attend to. You wait at the airport for a bit.” “I’ll come find you soon.” I shook my head, saying flatly, “It’s fine. You go on with your work.” Watching his back disappear around the corner. Only then did I pull out the divorce agreement document I had prepared on my phone, found the nearest print shop, printed it, and signed my name. Then I took out the abortion certificate that had been in my bag. Finally, I folded them both and handed them to Miles’s assistant. “Tell him to have a good flight. He can look at these once he lands in Japan,” I said. The assistant nodded. “Mrs. Shaw, why don’t you come with me? I can transfer you.” “No need,” I declined. “I’m not a child, I won’t get lost.” “I’ll just wander around.” Wander around. That’s how I wandered to the boarding gate, and onto another plane. Through the window, I could see the plane Miles had just piloted, growing smaller, until it became a tiny dot and vanished. By the time this flight landed, his must have landed too. As the announcement sounded. I picked up my bag and got off the plane. Only then did my phone get signal. Messages flooded in, one after another.

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1 The Metro Emergency Dispatch Center was hosting its live broadcast for the annual Dispatcher of the Year award. The host turned to Luke, asking for the secret behind his flawless eight-year record of zero dispatch errors. Facing the cameras, Luke spoke with calm, absolute composure. “Maintaining absolute rationality. I never let personal emotions compromise emergency resources.” The host seized the opportunity to follow up. “Have you ever encountered any absurd calls where people tried to maliciously block the emergency channel?” Luke’s eyes instantly turned cold. “Three nights ago, during that torrential storm, my ex-girlfriend wanted to stop my upcoming engagement.” “She pretended her car was trapped under a flooded overpass and called the dispatch line 143 times, trying to block our emergency channel.” “I blacklisted her number on the spot.” The comment section erupted with praise for his unwavering dedication to duty. But just as the host was about to transition, the guest caller, forensic pathologist Audrey, broke onto the broadcast with bloodshot eyes. “Luke, Grace is dead!” “Three nights ago, during that storm, she drowned inside her car after struggling for six hours.” “And when we found her, her hand was still clutching her phone, showing those 143 blocked calls to you!” The feed cut to static immediately, and the internet erupted. … “Audrey, has your professional ethics as a medical examiner gone out the window just to help Grace force me into a marriage?” Though the live stream had been cut, the reporters and media in the studio remained. Dozens of cameras were aimed squarely at Luke. He did not look panicked at all. He just looked coldly at the screen. “Tell Grace that this desperate cry for attention is pathetic.” “Tomorrow is my engagement party with Melanie. Even if she paid you to pull off this fake-death stunt, I won’t spare her a second glance.” Audrey, on the other end of the screen, was trembling violently. She held up an evidence bag containing a bloated, water-damaged phone. “Luke, do you honestly think this is a joke? Her body is lying right here on the autopsy table at the county morgue.” “You are listed as her emergency contact. Do you even have the guts to come down here and identify her?” I hovered near the ceiling of the studio, watching this play out in silence. Luke and I grew up together. He was the only bright spot in my otherwise miserable life. We only drifted apart when he went abroad to study medicine, while I stayed behind to scrape by. But eight years ago, when my parents passed away from illness, leaving me utterly alone and helpless, he appeared like a savior. He took charge of everything, making sure the funeral went smoothly. Ever since that day, Luke had been my designated emergency contact. “Nice props,” Luke sneered. “Grace is so desperate to win me back that she’d actually write a script cursing herself to death.” “Doctor, making false reports to the police is a crime. For the sake of our past, I won’t file a complaint.” “But tell her to stop making an absolute fool of herself.” Across the screen, Audrey’s tears fell freely. “Luke, you are a monster!” “When Grace died, her fingernails were torn to pieces. There was blood smeared all over the inside of the car windows.” “While you were busy dispatching an ambulance to rescue Melanie’s spoiled little dog, did you once think about Grace suffocating in the rising tide?” Luke’s brow finally furrows. The harsh words seemed to pierce his armor, making him uncomfortable. “Enough! A coward like Grace would never have the guts to die.” “If she is actually dead, I’ll buy her a headstone myself and throw her a mock funeral tomorrow!” With that, he tore the power cord of the monitor from the wall. The screen went black. The reporters in the studio looked at one another, none of them daring to speak. His assistant, Carter, ran over, wiping cold sweat from his forehead. “Luke, the social media backlash is getting out of hand. Everyone is asking if Grace actually died.” Luke let out a cold laugh. “Put out a statement. Say it is just a cheap stunt by an obsessive ex.” “Grace cares too much about her pride. Once the internet starts ripping her apart, she will crawl back and apologize.” Hearing his absolute certainty, I felt as though I never truly knew him. Years ago, when I nicked my finger while cutting vegetables, he would panic and run to the pharmacy in the middle of the night for bandages. He would hold my hand, his eyes red with worry as he blew gently on the cut. “Grace, from now on, I do the cooking. I can’t bear to see you get even a scratch.” That was the Luke from six years ago. The Luke of today believed my death was nothing but a clumsy act to ruin his engagement. Carter hesitated. “But Luke… the police department actually called earlier. They need you to sign the release forms…” Luke stopped in his tracks. “I said, it’s just one of Grace’s games.” “Ignore it. Let her play dead in the morgue for as long as she wants.” He strode out of the TV station, his posture tall, proud, and entirely unbothered. I floated behind him, drifting out into the open air. The sun outside was blindingly bright. I instinctively raised a hand to shield my eyes. But I felt no warmth. I guess the dead don’t have to worry about sunburns. I watched him slide into the back of his sleek, black Mercedes-Maybach, feeling a sudden wave of detachment. The passenger seat of this car used to be mine. But then Melanie complained that my scent lingered on the upholstery, so he had the entire interior refitted. Luke pinched the bridge of his nose, looking tired. His phone rang. It was Melanie. Instantly, his harsh expression melted into a gentle, soothing tone. “Melanie, what’s wrong?” A whimpering, tearful voice came through the speaker. “Luke… Coco’s paw is hurting again. He won’t stop crying, and I’m so scared.” 2 Coco was Melanie’s tiny toy poodle. Three nights ago, during that catastrophic rainstorm, this dog had sprained its paw. “Don’t cry. I’m on my way.” Luke hung up and urged the driver to speed up. “Luke, thank goodness you’re here.” Melanie threw herself into his arms, her eyes red and puffy. He rubbed her back gently, taking the dog from her arms. He knelt, pulling antiseptic and gauze from the medical kit, wrapping the dog’s paw with tender, practiced ease. Floating above them, I watched him tie the final knot. I was the one who taught him how to tie that specific bow. One freezing winter, when he had a high fever, I ran out into a blizzard to get his medicine and ended up taking a nasty fall. While waiting in the emergency room, I watched the nurses bandage a wound and learned the technique, teaching it to him when I got back. I told him, “Luke, if I ever get hurt, you have to bandage me up just like this.” He held me close back then, swearing he would never let me get hurt. Now, he used that very knot to tend to Melanie’s dog. “Luke, I saw the live broadcast.” Melanie looked at him, her voice tentative. “Is Grace… really dead?” Luke’s hands did not hesitate for a single second. “A woman like her? She loves herself too much to die.” “She would do anything for money. This is just a pathetic attempt to extort me before the wedding.” Melanie bit her lip. “But the medical examiner sounded so sure. What if…” “There is no what if.” Luke cut her off. “Melanie, you are too soft-hearted. That’s why she is able to manipulate you.” “Back then, she took a million dollars from your mother and walked away from me without a single regret. You can’t trust a single word that comes out of her mouth.” Hearing this, I did not even have the energy to smile bitterly anymore. Years ago, when Luke was still a medical intern, he made a mistake that threatened to cost him a massive settlement. If he could not pay, his license would be revoked, and he would face prison time. Melanie, who was actively pursuing him, had her mother approach me. They offered me a million dollars. The condition was that I had to leave Luke forever. I did not take their money. Instead, I signed up for a high-risk, unregistered clinical trial to earn the money, paying off his settlement anonymously. But when Luke was cleared, Melanie told him that I had taken the money and run. And he believed her. From that moment on, in his eyes, I became a mercenary wretch who sold her soul for a paycheck. Carter’s voice broke through the silence over a phone call. “Luke, the police are calling again.” “Audrey says if you don’t come down to sign the papers, they will have to file Grace’s body as unclaimed.” Luke sighed, his patience wearing thin. “Then let them.” “Tell Audrey that the act has gone on long enough. If she keeps pushing this, I will personally see to it that her department’s funding gets pulled.” Carter stammered over the line. “But… Audrey sent over a photo.” “Luke… the girl in the photo… she looks exactly like Grace.” Luke’s breath caught for a fraction of a second, but his voice remains cold and steady. “AI filters can recreate anything these days. What does a photo prove?” “If you have nothing better to do, go down to the morgue and see her little show for yourself.” He cut the call. Melanie leaned in, wrapping her arms around his. “Luke, the tailor sent over your suit for tomorrow. Why don’t you try it on?” Luke nodded, the tension leaving his shoulders. “Sure. Whatever you want.” 3 The bespoke suit fitted Luke perfectly. He stood before the floor-to-ceiling mirror as Melanie adjusted his tie. “You look incredible, Luke.” I hovered near the ceiling, staring at their perfect reflection. Once, I used to dream about adjusting his wedding suit. Back when we lived in that cramped basement, he wore a cheap, off-the-rack shirt, and I used safety pins to taper the waist. He had told me, “Grace, when I make it big, I’m going to buy you the most expensive wedding dress in the city.” Now he had the money, but the dress was for someone else. The doorbell rang. Carter stood in the doorway, panting, his face entirely drained of color. “Luke… I went… I went to the morgue.” Luke frowned, annoyed by his assistant’s hysterics. “Why did you go there? Didn’t I tell you to ignore it?” Carter was trembling, clutching a manila folder tightly against his chest. “Luke, it’s real.” He swallowed hard, his voice shaking. “Grace… she really is dead.” A heavy silence stretched for ten seconds before Luke let out a dismissive snort. “Carter, you’ve worked for me for five years.” “How much did Grace pay you to play along with this ridiculous lie?” Carter thrust the folder forward with trembling hands. “Luke! I didn’t take any money!” “I saw the body on the table with my own eyes. It’s her.” “The water bloated her face, but the scar on her wrist… there’s no mistaking it!” The scar. It happened years ago when Luke tried to cook for me for the first time. He accidentally started a grease fire, and when the kitchen cabinets collapsed, I threw myself over him, taking the scalding metal to my wrist. “Absurd!” Luke walked over to the sofa, crossing his legs and lighting a cigarette. “Grace is clever. She knew exactly how to get to you.” “She draws a fake scar on her wrist, lies down on a slab, and you fools fall for it hook, line, and sinker.” Through the rising smoke, his eyes were freezing cold. “Does she honestly think that playing victim will make me crawl back to her?” Carter looked at him with sheer desperation. “Luke, it’s a corpse! There is no breath, no heartbeat, and her skin is already pooling with lividity…” “Enough!” Luke snapped, his voice echoing through the room. “I said she isn’t dead! She’s alive!” “A selfish woman like her would never have the guts to kill herself!” Melanie shrank back, startled by his sudden outburst. Luke took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. “If she wants to play this game, fine. I’ll play.” “Get the car. We’re going to the morgue.” “I want to see the look on her face when I stand right in front of her. Let’s see how long she can keep her eyes closed then.” I watched him storm out the door. He was moving so fast that he had not even noticed he buttoned his coat unevenly. Was he afraid? No. He was just angry. He was furious that I would push his boundaries with such an extreme stunt, utterly convinced that this was a performance and that I would break the moment he arrived. I drifted above the car, following him all the way to the precinct. The rain began to fall again. A dark, oppressive downpour, just like the night I died. Audrey stood outside the examination room, her white lab coat looking stark against the dim hallway. When she saw Luke, her eyes held nothing but a profound, empty sorrow. “You finally decided to show up.” Luke glared at her. “Where is she? Tell Grace to get her ass out of here.” 4 Audrey did not bother replying. She simply turned and pushed open the heavy double doors of the autopsy room. The sharp, stinging scent of formaldehyde, laced with the faint, sweet stench of decay, hit us instantly. Luke pinched his nose, letting out a sharp scoff. “Pathetic dramatics.” In the center of the room lay a table. On it was a shape covered by a white sheet. Peeking out from the bottom was a pale, swollen ankle. Luke stopped two paces away, a cruel sneer on his lips. “Grace, drop the act.” “Do you honestly think that lying here will make me cancel the wedding?” “Get up. Let’s talk like adults. How much money do you want to end this little circus?” The figure beneath the sheet remains perfectly still. Luke’s patience snapped. He strode forward and tore the sheet away. I hovered near the ceiling, staring down at my own body. It was truly hideous. Having spent three days submerged in water, my skin had turned a ghostly, mottled grey, with patches of epidermal peeling. My fingernails were completely torn and split from clawing at the car windows, exposing raw, dark-red flesh underneath. And there, stark against the ruin of my arm, was the deep, thick scar on my wrist. Luke’s gaze landed on my face, his pupils shrinking to pinpricks. But a moment later, a cold laugh escaped his lips. “The special effects makeup is impressive. Must have cost a fortune.” He reached out, his fingers stretching toward my cheek. “Let’s see how long you can hold your breath under this mask.” Audrey lunged forward, slapping his hand away with a vicious crack. “Are you insane, Luke? She’s dead! Have you no respect for the deceased?” Luke glared at his reddening hand, his expression darkening with rage. “Audrey, assisting a civilian in faking a death is a federal offense. I can have your license revoked by tomorrow morning.” Audrey let out a bitter, hollow laugh, staring at him as if he were a monster. “You still think this is fake?” She reached onto a metal tray, picking up the evidence bag containing my ruined phone. “Fine. If you won’t believe your own eyes, listen to this. The tech department just recovered the audio logs.” I desperately reached out, trying to tell Audrey to stop. Please don’t play it, Audrey. Please don’t. You’ve done more than enough for me. My parents only helped put you through college, but you’ve already repaid that debt tenfold by finding my body. Please, just let it go. The living need to move on. A moment later, the sound of my ragged, desperate breathing echoed through the sterile room. “Hello… is this dispatch? I’m trapped under the Southside Viaduct… the water is rushing into the car…” Luke’s face froze. That was the first call. Audrey skipped forward, pressing play on the fiftieth recording. “Please… send help… the water is up to my chest… I can’t open the doors…” My voice on the recording was trembling, thick with the terror of impending death. Luke’s chest rose and falls rapidly, his knuckles turning white as he clenched his fists. Audrey did not stop. She dragged the timeline all the way to the very last call. The 143th call. The voice that came through was barely a whisper, drowned out by the terrifying sound of rushing water filling the cabin. “Luke… why… why won’t you pick up…” “It’s so cold…” “I didn’t take the money back then… I just… I just wanted to hear your voice one last time…” The line went dead with a harsh, flat beep.

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He took her ditching class, taught her to smoke and drink, and sent her grades plummeting. I couldn’t bear to watch her spiral, so when her parents asked, I told them everything. From then on, she was kept under strict watch by her folks. The night she and the school rebel planned to elope, her parents stopped her. She couldn’t make it to him. And that same night, he tragically died in a freak accident. Years later, set up by our families, we got married and had a child. During a terrible car crash, to protect her and our daughter, I pushed them away and took the brunt of the impact. Just before my consciousness faded, she leaned in close to my ear: “She isn’t your daughter. I never loved you. I only married you to get revenge.” Under her resentful glare, I took my last breath. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in my senior year of high school, right on the day the bad boy asked her out. “Ethan, Caleb asked me to hang out with him tonight. Do you think I should go?” I stared blankly at the young, pretty face in front of me. Suddenly, I realized I had been reborn. I was back in my senior year. Seeing me space out, Chloe waved a hand in front of my face and complained, “Why aren’t you saying anything?” Chloe Davis was my childhood sweetheart. She was a dancer, banking everything on getting into a performing arts conservatory. She was slender, had an incredible presence, and her dance routines were top-tier. Her only flaw was that her academic grades were a disaster. Meanwhile, I was in the AP Honors track. With my GPA, I was guaranteed a solid state university, but I was gunning for the Ivy League. At her parents’ request, I spent three evenings a week tutoring her, trying to help her get the scores she needed for her dream dance academy in New York. Once upon a time, I thought this was a perfect arrangement. I thought we would go to the East Coast together, that I’d find the perfect moment to confess my feelings, and that we’d get married, have kids, and become the perfect couple our parents always hoped we’d be. Our future was laid out right in front of us; all it took was a little effort to reach it. But right at that crucial moment, Caleb Vance showed up. Just like Chloe, Caleb was a notorious figure at our school. He was ridiculously good-looking, and his family background was a mystery. Countless girls threw themselves at him, though they tried not to be too obvious about it. After all, Caleb had a terrible temper. He was rebellious, violent, slacked off constantly, and had zero respect for anyone. Rumor had it that just this week, he made an English teacher quit in tears. Even the principal couldn’t do anything about him. Yet, this was the guy who successfully caught Chloe’s eye. “I know he has a bad reputation and everyone’s scared of him. But last time I got cornered by some creeps off-campus, he saved me. He’s nothing like the rumors. He’s actually a really good guy, just tough on the outside but soft on the inside.” Chloe rested her chin on her hands, her cheeks flushed pink. Whenever she talked about Caleb, her eyes lit up like they held a sky full of stars. It was completely different from how she looked at me. In my past life, on the day of our wedding, even her bridesmaids were crying, begging me to treat her right. But Chloe, the bride, just maintained a shallow, perfectly polite smile the entire time. From start to finish, her emotions barely fluctuated. It was only later I realized that because she didn’t love me, she could stay as calm as an outsider. When she truly loved someone, even if she covered her mouth, the love would still pour out of her eyes. “Ethan, why are you being so quiet? You can’t just judge a book by its cover, you know. Don’t think I’m just trying to make excuses for Caleb; I’m telling the truth!” Chloe already had her answer. Asking for my permission now was just her way of dragging me down with her. If her parents found out, she could smoothly shift the blame to me, claiming I let her go, making me the scapegoat. She had been like this since we were kids. I was six months older, so I always played the protective older brother. Every time she caused trouble, I stepped up and took the fall. And she happily enjoyed my sacrifices without a second thought. But now, I was done with that. Seeing I wasn’t responding, Chloe compromised, “Okay, fine, I admit it, I want to go. Just do me a solid, please? You don’t even have to do anything, just don’t rat me out to my parents. If they ask how tutoring went, just say it was great.” She suddenly leaned close, pressing her hands together pleadingly, looking at me with big doe eyes. “Please, please, please?” She always knew exactly how to manipulate me. I was about to speak when a commotion erupted outside the classroom. Classmates started whispering loudly, “Whoa, it’s Caleb! What’s he doing here?!” Caleb stood in the doorway, tall and easily standing out from the crowd. Even as a guy, looking at his face, I had to admit he was incredibly handsome. Handsome enough to make anyone else feel inadequate. Caleb leaned against the doorframe, lazily asking Chloe, “Have you made up your mind yet? Are we going or what?” The whispers grew louder. “So he’s here for Chloe. Wait, wasn’t Chloe supposed to be studying with Ethan tonight?” “Are you stupid? Between Caleb and Ethan, who would you pick?! Caleb, obviously! He’s gorgeous!” “Whatever, slacking off in senior year for a guy is just setting yourself up for regrets later.” Caleb looked annoyed. He swept his gaze over the room and kicked the door loudly. “You guys tired of having teeth?” The whole room fell dead silent instantly. Chloe shot me a begging look. I said flatly, “Go if you want. It’s not my place to manage you.” After everything I went through in my past life, I had learned a deep truth: Drop the savior complex and respect other people’s destinies. Chloe jumped up with joy and even gave me a quick hug. “I knew you were the best, Ethan!” The class let out a collective gasp. “Whoa!” But Chloe quickly let go, though her faint perfume still lingered in the air. Usually, Chloe was quiet and reserved, widely seen as the untouchable, ice-queen goddess of the school. She rarely acted this bubbly and proactive. If this were the old me, I would have been ecstatic, feeling like I’d just been handed the greatest gift on earth. But now, all I wanted to do was get back to figuring out the final calculus problem on my practice test. Caleb’s expression shifted slightly. He walked right between us, smoothly forcing us apart. “Let’s bounce, then. Nerd, don’t you dare snitch to her folks, or you’re dead meat.” He casually snatched my glasses off my face and tossed them onto my desk, clicking his tongue. “Tsk, you look even uglier without them.” Getting involved with him only led to bad endings. I had no reason to invite trouble. I put my glasses back on and told Chloe, “I won’t be your shield. If you don’t want me tutoring you anymore, you can explain that to your parents yourself.” Chloe nodded distractedly, pulling a Tupperware container from her backpack and shoving it at me. “Eat both of these. Don’t waste them! My mom worked hard cooking this!” Mrs. Davis was grateful for the tutoring, so whenever she packed dinner for Chloe, she packed a portion for me too. Before I could say another word, Chloe ran off toward Caleb, shouting, “Hey, wait up!” In my past life, she ignored my warnings and went out with him anyway. He took her ditching, causing her already poor grades to tank further. When Mrs. Davis asked me what was going on, I couldn’t stomach the lie and told her everything. Furious, her parents pulled her out of our school and sent her to a strict, lockdown-style prep academy to keep an eye on her. Right before graduation, she and Caleb planned to elope. Her mom caught her, so she never made it. And that very night, Caleb died in an accident. Chloe threatened to end her own life over it. Desperate, her family sold their house and moved abroad with her so she could study there. When I saw her again six years later, she was a somewhat famous dancer—beautiful, elegant, captivating with every smile. When we talked about the past, she laughed and said, “I was just too young and foolish back then. You were just looking out for me.” Pushed together by our parents, we grew closer, fell in love, married, and had a baby. Until a massive truck came barreling toward us, and instinct took over as I shoved her and our daughter out of the way. But as I was being loaded into the ambulance, Chloe leaned into my ear and whispered the truth. “The kid isn’t yours. Every time you went on a business trip, I brought men home. “I never loved you. I only married you to ruin you. Do you have any idea what these past years have been like for me? Every time I think of him, my heart hurts so much I want to die. “Trading your life to save someone else’s kid—you deserve this, Ethan! You killed the love of my life, and this is your karma!” I died looking into her eyes, which were filled with nothing but pure hatred. Worse, in my previous life, trying to save her had dragged me through hell. Caleb brought his crew to the AP classrooms constantly to corner me. He wrote ‘SNITCH’ on my desk and exams, and tried to force me to crawl between his legs. When I refused, he pinned me against the teacher’s podium and beat me. I tried to fight back, but he had too many guys with him. Any resistance just meant a worse beating. The harassment only paused when a teacher intervened. It was endless. Back then, I was just a sensitive, inexperienced teenager. The bullying wrecked my focus. When Caleb died, Chloe blamed the entire tragedy on me. I took the most important exam of my life drowning in guilt, pain, and anxiety. When the results came out, I had dropped out of the top thirty in the school for the first time ever, landing in a mediocre, bottom-tier state college. It was the biggest regret of my life. But this time, I was getting into the Ivy League. God had given me a chance to hit the reset button, and I was going to give it everything I had. The next time I saw Chloe was in the stairwell of the gym. I had just finished P.E. and was sent by the coach to put the equipment away. Chloe was wearing a cheap faux-leather jacket, a row of metal cuffs up her ear, and heavy, exaggerated smoky makeup. I hadn’t seen her in a while. The arts track classrooms were two floors away from the AP track. If she didn’t come looking for me, we naturally never crossed paths. Besides, I was busy studying. I had zero interest in the school rumor mill. Seeing me, Chloe expertly put a cigarette to her lips and blew out a cloud of smoke. She looked no different from the sketchy dropouts hanging around street corners. How could I have forgotten? She always thought this stuff was cool. As an only child, her parents had kept her on a very short leash. She was raised to be the perfect, obedient daughter. But sometimes, when she heard the roar of street racers outside her window, she’d lean out, watch them, and sigh, “So cool. That’s what being young is all about.” Deep down, she had always harbored a rebellious streak. Caleb’s arrival was like dropping a chunk of sodium into still water—it exploded with fire and light. That intense reaction scrambled her brain and gave her permission to unleash her true self. Seeing this group of delinquent-looking kids, Maya, our class monitor who was walking next to me, froze and shrank behind my shoulder. Our conversation about the math decathlon problems abruptly stopped. I gave her a reassuring look and said, “Maya, why don’t you head back to class? There isn’t that much stuff left. I can carry the rest to the equipment room myself.” Maya looked at me gratefully, then glanced at the hostile-looking group in front of us. After a brief hesitation, she said, “It’s fine. Let’s just go together.” Chloe clicked her tongue in annoyance. One of the guys behind her immediately barked, “Can’t you see our girl has something to say to him? Get lost if you know what’s good for you!” Chloe smirked, clearly enjoying the tough-guy act on her behalf. I told Maya, “It’s okay. Head back. I’ll have that decathlon problem solved for you before study hall.” Once Maya scurried away, Chloe raised an eyebrow and asked, “Ethan, I heard you’ve been getting awfully cozy with some girl lately. Was that her?” They rearranged the seating chart last week, and Maya ended up next to me. She had squeaked into our AP class with the lowest qualifying score. She lacked a strong foundation, but she worked incredibly hard. Hard work always pays off eventually. Since I was doing better in class, she often asked me questions. Sometimes, even if we bumped into each other in the cafeteria, she’d come over with a textbook. But I didn’t owe Chloe an explanation about my life. So I said, “None of your business. Tell your friends to move. I have to get to class.” Chloe sounded almost whiny as she said, “What do you mean, none of my business? We grew up together! How could you get a girlfriend and not tell me?” “No offense, but your class monitor is kind of chubby. If you date her, it’ll be embarrassing to take her anywhere! I don’t know what you see in her.” She scrunched up her nose, looking utterly disgusted. “Of course, if you found a girlfriend as pretty as me, I definitely wouldn’t stop you.” She blew a smoke ring right at my face, a teasing smile on her lips. Caught off guard, I inhaled the harsh smoke and doubled over, coughing violently until tears streamed down my face. I had asthma. Strong chemical smells or smoke easily triggered it. Chloe knew this perfectly well, yet she did it anyway. She and the guys behind her burst out laughing. It suddenly hit me: Chloe had known all along that I had a crush on her. That was exactly why, in my past life, she used my feelings as a weapon to destroy me. And like an idiot, I thought she had actually fallen for me and recognized my worth. I was so incredibly wrong. It took me a minute to catch my breath before I stood up straight. “Maya is a great person and she’s incredibly smart. Looks aren’t the only way to judge someone’s value. “She and I are just classmates. Not everyone makes high school entirely about who they’re dating.” I didn’t hold back. Chloe’s expression darkened, and she tossed her cigarette onto the ground. “Ethan, you’re so boring!” She kicked over the plastic bin I was carrying, sending shuttlecocks scattering all over the floor. As if that wasn’t enough, she deliberately stepped on several of them as she walked past me. The guys with her mimicked her, stomping on the shuttlecocks as they followed. I stood there, looking at the crushed plastic and feathers on the floor, feeling a strange sense of emptiness. What kind of person had I been in love with all those years? Senior year flew by, and midterms were right around the corner. Soon, I’d be able to test exactly how much my hard work had paid off. I scarfed down my dinner, trying to save time. But just as I stepped out of the cafeteria, I ran into Chloe. She grabbed my arm. “I knew you’d be here! Ethan, you have to help me!” My first instinct was to pull away, but she gripped tighter. “Exams are coming up and I haven’t studied at all! If I bomb this, I’m dead! My mom will definitely ship me off to one of those lockdown prep schools! “Then how am I supposed to see Caleb? I’ll die without him. “Ethan, please, please help me. Let me borrow your notes. I swear I’ll actually study them!” The same pitiful, damsel-in-distress act. She assumed I’d never say no to her. I gave it to her straight. “Didn’t you say you didn’t need me to tutor you anymore? I haven’t been taking detailed notes lately.” It was the truth. I kept the key concepts in my head and reinforced them by running practice drills. Writing out pretty notes was a waste of time. Besides, the notes I did jot down for myself were shorthand, skipping basic steps. She wouldn’t understand them anyway. A flash of relief crossed her face. “That’s fine, as long as you’re willing to help. I need the notes ASAP. Stay up tonight and organize them for me. Pulling an all-nighter should be enough.” “Give them to me tomorrow, got it? Otherwise, I won’t have enough time to memorize everything.” She had planned out exactly how to use me before she even walked over. I shook my head. “I can’t help you. If I pull an all-nighter, I’ll be a zombie all week. It’ll ruin my focus for the exams.” Looking completely shocked that I had refused, Chloe furrowed her brow, her voice growing shrill. “What do you mean you can’t stay up?! When you agreed to tutor me, you stayed up all night making study guides! Why can’t you do it now?!” She looked so entitled. As if I existed solely to take her orders, as if I owed her endless, unconditional indulgence. I made it crystal clear. “That was before. Back when you actually wanted to learn. The way you are now… I’m not wasting my time.” Chloe glared at me furiously, pointing a finger right in my face as she screamed: “Fine! You think you’re so great just because you can read a damn book! Let me tell you, valedictorians don’t become the bosses in the real world! “With your garbage social skills, if you think you’re going to make it big, keep dreaming!” Her words meant nothing to me. What could she possibly say that would hurt more than what she said to me in my past life? She spat her venom, but as she walked away, she purposely slowed her steps. She was waiting for me to chase after her. Waiting for me to apologize and cave, to say I’d stay up and write the notes. Just like I had done so many times before. I did call out to her. Chloe turned around, crossing her arms, wearing a triumphant smirk. I continued, “Oh right, you haven’t told your parents that we canceled tutoring, have you? If you don’t tell them, I will.” “I’m a terrible liar. If they ask me why, it’s highly likely I’ll let the truth slip.” Hearing this, Chloe’s face turned livid. “Damn it, Ethan, you’re gonna pay for this!” She looked at me like she wanted me dead. But I really didn’t care anymore. Between her and my future, I was picking my future. I should have woken up a long time ago. After evening study hall, the second I stepped out of the school gates, a deafening motorcycle engine roared. Caleb, with Chloe on the back of his bike, stopped right in front of me, blocking the sidewalk. A whole gang of colorful-haired delinquents pulled up behind them. I asked, “Can I help you?” Caleb just sneered at me. He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, and one of his guys immediately rushed forward to light it for him. He exhaled a slow stream of smoke, tilting his chin up. “You pissed off my girl? Pretty brave for a four-eyed nerd.” Chloe wrapped her arms around his waist, looking incredibly smug. “Ethan, apologize right now. And write up those study notes for me tonight. If you do, I’ll tell my boyfriend to let you off the hook.” What a blatant shakedown. I never realized she could be this shameless. Or maybe she had been this way all along. It was just my crush on her that had painted her in a golden, flawless light. I let out a slow sigh. “I don’t want any trouble. But Chloe, I’ve kept my mouth shut about everything you’re doing. If I tell your parents, do you really think you’ll still be living this carefree lifestyle?” The smirk froze on Chloe’s face. I kept going. “You know exactly how fiercely protective your parents are. If they find out you’re running around with a gang and dating this guy, will they ever let you leave the house again?” Caleb looked entirely dismissive. “So what if they know? Worst case, I show up at their front door to meet the in-laws. With a son-in-law as awesome as me, they should consider themselves lucky!” The delusion was almost impressive. Chloe, humiliated and enraged, threw an empty cigarette box at my head. “You really think I give a crap about your stupid notes?! Keep your nerd crap! I have my own ways, just you watch! “Let’s go, babe!” Caleb threw a mock punch in the air at me before revving his engine and speeding off, his entire crew trailing noisily behind him. That night, Mrs. Davis called me. “Ethan, sweetie, thank you so much for tutoring Chloe lately. You have excellent grades, and with college applications coming up, you really need to spend more time focusing on yourself.” Chloe had definitely spun a story. No doubt she painted it like I was too obsessed with my own grades to bother helping her anymore. She was the one slacking off, yet she pinned the blame squarely on me. But whatever. At least now, whatever happened to her going forward, her parents couldn’t blame me for it. Her life was officially none of my business. Midterms wrapped up, and the school gave us a rare half-day off. I went home, caught up on sleep, ate dinner, and headed back to school for evening study hall. As soon as I walked into the classroom, I heard the gossip. “Did you guys hear? Chloe and Caleb got caught cheating on the exams! The school is calling their parents in!” So this was the “own way” Chloe had bragged about. “And guess what happened next? Chloe literally dropped to her knees in front of the dean, begging him not to tell her folks! Caleb thought she was being embarrassing, kicked a desk, and just walked out on her!” “Then what? What happened?” “Then—get this—the dean actually let it go!” “No way, seriously?” “I mean, look at her. She’s gorgeous, great body, crying her eyes out like a damsel in distress. What guy wouldn’t cave? The dean’s only human.” I couldn’t stand listening to it anymore. “Watch your mouth.” The guy who was talking scoffed. “She doesn’t even like you, why are you still defending her? Ethan, you’ve played the pathetic lapdog for so long you actually think it’s romantic, huh?” He was being completely aggressive, making the people around him snicker. “I’m not defending anyone; I’m just stating facts. Just because it’s the 21st century doesn’t mean you can spew garbage rumors like that.” The guy thrived on attention, so getting called out made him snap. “Ethan! You looking for a fight?!” “Gentlemen use their words. Resorting to fists just because you can’t win an argument is pretty pathetic.” Having worked in corporate America for years in my past life, dealing with sarcastic passive-aggression was second nature. These high school kids couldn’t touch me. Right then, Maya shouted, “The rankings are out!” Instantly, the tension evaporated. Everyone swarmed Maya. It was completely packed. Maya sighed. “Give me some space, guys! Let me tape the sheet to the wall first, then you can look.” I really wanted to see my score, but there was no way I was fighting that crowd. Might as well review some vocabulary while they finish up. Maya walked over to my desk and handed me a slip of paper. My grades were written on it. “I copied them down for you. No big deal. Ethan, you killed it! Ninth in the whole grade!” Ninth in the grade! Even at my absolute best in my past life, I only ever made it to eleventh. It was true: when you put your head down and shut out the noise, the hard work pays off. I stretched my arms over my head, took a breath, and dove right back into my textbooks. The semester blew by. Time felt like it was on fast-forward, moving almost too quickly to catch my breath. My dad looked at my final report card, beaming. “Sixth in the grade! Awesome job, son. Keep this up, and the Ivy League is in the bag.” I nodded. “I’ll keep pushing.” My goal was a top-tier Ivy, so I still had work to do. My mom chimed in with a sigh, “It’s such a shame about the Davis girl. She was just diagnosed with depression. She has absolutely no interest in school anymore, and her grades have completely tanked. Her parents are stressing out, wondering if they should have her take a gap year and try for college next year.” Depression? She really knew how to find an excuse for herself.

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1 “Gwen, has pig manure addled your brain?” Tanya’s shrill voice rang out as she jabbed a trembling finger at the piglet in my arms, her face twisted in disgust. “You treat that trash like treasure? Marcus is a filthy pig farmer! Only a desperate loser settles for a peasant!” I stayed silent. The tiny piglet trembled against me, its fragile heartbeat proof I was alive, back before I was pushed into the septic tank. Marcus stood rigid in our dirt yard, his face burning under neighbors’ stares. Two dazed piglets twitched on the gravel. His fists clenched until his knuckles whitened. “Tanya, these piglets are special—” “Shut up!” She yanked off a heel and hurled it at his chest. “Don’t call me Tanya! It’s vile! I’ve endured enough. Your barnyard stench, your cheap gifts of produce and animals. I’m going to be a star, Marcus. Being seen with a dirt-covered peasant ruins my reputation!” The heel left a dusty smear on his worn shirt. He didn’t flinch, but the light in his eyes dimmed. My chest tightened. In my past life, Marcus endured this humiliation. When his genius made him a billionaire, Tanya altered her face, wept that our parents forced her to leave, and Marcus forgave her. Then she drowned me in the septic tank and poisoned him for his fortune. This time, history would not repeat. I stepped forward, cradling the piglet close, and gently brushed the dust from Marcus’s chest. “Since Tanya doesn’t want them, these piglets belong to me now.” Tanya let out a harsh, mocking laugh, crossing her arms as she sneered at me. “Gwen, are you really that desperate for a man? You’re actually collecting my discarded garbage?” “Fine! I’ll happily bless this match made in heaven!” “Mom! Dad! Come out here! Gwen is about to elope with the pig farmer!” At Tanya’s scream, the screen door of our farmhouse was thrown open, and my parents marched out, their faces dark with fury. My mother didn’t even hesitate, stepping forward to shove me hard against the wooden railing. “You shameless, disgraceful girl!” she shrieked, her finger nearly poking my eye out. “Your sister is trying to end things with this loser, and you’re out here making a fool of yourself?” “Are you trying to give your father a heart attack?” My father’s face was as dark as a thundercloud, his calloused hand gripping his walking stick as he pointed it at Marcus. “Get out! Take your filthy animals and get off my property!” “If I ever catch you lurking around Tanya again, I’ll break your legs!” Marcus flinched, bending down to retrieve the remaining piglet from the gravel. I reached out, firmly grabbing his wrist. His hand was rough, covered in thick callouses from years of hard labor, but it was incredibly warm. Looking directly into my parents’ furious eyes, I spoke clearly, letting every neighbor hear. “I’m keeping Marcus.” “And we are keeping these piglets.” “Since Tanya thinks he’s not good enough, I’ll take his hand instead.” Tanya doubled over with laughter, her voice dripping with malice. “Oh my god! Mom, Dad, did you hear that?” “My sister is so starved for affection she’s actually willing to settle for a guy who smells like pig manure!” “Fine, Gwen. This is your choice. When you’re eating slop and sleeping in a barn, don’t you dare come back crying to us!” My mother searched the yard wildly, grabbing a broom. “Unbelievable! Absolutely disgraceful!” “How did I raise such a shameless leech?” “If you walk out of this yard with that peasant, don’t you ever think about calling us family again!” 2 I stared at these people, my biological family, with absolute detachment. In my past life, when I was drowning in that septic tank, gasping for air and screaming for help, they had stood on the edge, watching me die. Tanya had convinced them that only my silence would guarantee the massive payout Marcus would offer to avoid a scandal. They had taken my blood money, used it to fund Tanya’s career, and moved into a massive mansion. I had absolutely no attachment left to this house. Taking a deep breath, I tightened my grip on Marcus’s hand. “Fine.” “Remember those words.” “From this day on, I have no family.” Without looking back, I pulled the stunned Marcus toward the gate, leaving the screaming behind us. Tanya’s bitter curses followed us down the dirt road. “Gwen! You’ll regret this!” “You’re meant to spend your entire life crawling in the dirt!” Regret? A cold smile played on my lips. Tanya, very soon, you’ll see exactly who is destined to crawl in the dirt. Once we reached the main road, Marcus stopped, gently pulling his hand from mine. He kept his head low, unable to look me in the eye. “Gwen… please, don’t do this. Don’t ruin your life for me.” “I’m just a nobody. I’m not worthy of you.” “Go back and apologize to your parents. Don’t throw away your family over a guy like me.” I turned to face him, staring at the honest, hardworking man. Who would believe that this shy, bruised farmer would one day control the global agricultural supply chain? I lifted the piglet in my arms, holding it up between us. “Marcus, do you trust me?” He blinked, nodding instinctively. “Yes.” “Then take me to your farm.” I met his gaze, my voice steady. “I want to invest.” Marcus’s farm sat at the base of the foothills. Calling it a farm was generous; it was mostly just a few run-down wooden barns surrounded by a wire fence. The air was a thick mix of fermented feed and manure. In my past life, I would have wrinkled my nose. But today, it smelled like absolute fortune. Marcus scrambled to clear a dusty plastic chair, wiping it down frantically with his sleeve. “Please, sit. It’s dirty out here. I’m sorry.” I didn’t sit, walking straight toward the pens. The two piglets Tanya had thrown were already resting in a separate pen. They looked exhausted, but their eyes were bright and active. Most piglets were a generic pink or black. But these piglets had a distinct, almost imperceptible tuft of golden hair behind their ears. These were the legendary Kirin Swine. In my past life, Marcus had utilized this rare, gene-edited breed to extract a highly specialized active enzyme. Not only did they produce the most premium meat on the market, but their biological profile was crucial for organ transplantation research. A single mature breeding hog was worth a fortune. “Marcus, these aren’t ordinary farm pigs, are they?” I turned to look at him. The water pitcher in his hand shook, spilling water onto the concrete floor. He stared at me, his mouth slightly open. “How… how did you know?” “A genetics professor at the university gave me these experimental specimens. He said if I could keep them alive, they could be worth millions.” “But they’re incredibly fragile. The slightest temperature change or feed imbalance makes them sick. I’ve already poured all my savings into them.” “That’s why Tanya left. She said I was throwing money down a drain…” His expression darkened at the mention of her name. I walked over, taking the pitcher from his hands. “She has no vision. It’s her loss.” “Marcus, I have fifty thousand dollars in savings. I’m investing all of it in your farm.” “We’re going to raise these Kirins together.” Marcus waved his hands frantically. “No! I can’t take your money!” “We don’t even know if they’ll survive the winter! I can’t let you risk everything on me!” I pulled out my phone, immediately executing the wire transfer right in front of him. A quiet chime echoed from his pocket. Marcus pulled out his phone, staring at the notification, his eyes suddenly filling with tears. “Gwen…” “Don’t call me Gwen. Call me your partner.” I offered a small smile, rolling up my sleeves. “From today on, I’m staying here.” “You buy the premium feed, and I’ll handle the daily care.” 3 Over the next few weeks, I moved into the small storage room next to the main barn. I woke up before dawn every morning to mix the feed, wash the pens, and monitor the piglets’ vital signs. Marcus was hesitant to let me work at first, but when he saw that my handling was even more efficient than his, he slowly let his guard down. The two of us worked like clockwork, our entire world revolving around those piglets. Meanwhile, the local gossip spread like wildfire. When I went to the local general store to buy salt, a group of neighborhood women gossiping by the register immediately went quiet, whispering loudly enough for me to hear. “Isn’t that the older daughter from the Mercer family?” “I heard she’s already living with that pig farmer.” “Disgraceful. Throwing away a decent life just to shovel manure.” “Her sister Tanya is the one with real prospects. Apparently, she’s dating some wealthy city boy, ready to move to a penthouse.” “That’s just destiny, I suppose. The older sister was always meant to be a peasant.” I paid for my salt, keeping my face entirely blank as I walked out. As I approached the farm gate, I spotted a sleek red BMW parked on the grass. Tanya, dressed in a designer skirt, was clinging to the arm of a man in dark sunglasses, pointing at our wooden barns with a look of theatrical disgust. The man had bleached yellow hair, a heavy gold chain around his neck, and a smug, arrogant expression. “Oh, look, my sister is back,” Tanya drawled, dramatically clutching her nose as she leaned into the man’s chest. “Babe, look at her clothes. They look absolutely filthy.” “Keep your distance, sweetie. We don’t want her ruining your Armani.” The yellow-haired man took off his sunglasses, scanning me with a dismissive smirk. “So this is your idiot sister, Tanya?” “She’s not bad-looking, but she’s clearly lacking in the brain department, settling for a beggar.” Hearing the noise, Marcus rushed out of the barn, holding a heavy manure bucket. Seeing Tanya, he instinctively tried to hide the bucket behind his back. “What… what are you doing here?” Tanya let out a dry, venomous chuckle. “Just checking to see if you two are still breathing.” “Still playing with these pathetic pigs?” “Marcus, let me introduce my boyfriend, Chad. His family owns a massive chain of supermarkets.” “If you drop to your knees and beg, maybe Chad can find you a job throwing boxes in his warehouse.” Chad wrapped his arm around Tanya’s waist, looking incredibly pleased with himself. “Exactly. You look like you have decent muscle. We pay three grand a month for heavy lifting. That should buy you plenty of pig feed, right? Haha!” Marcus’s face flushed deep red, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the handle of the bucket. “We don’t need your charity. Please leave.” Tanya’s smile vanished, her eyes turning cold. “Ungrateful loser!” “Chad, let’s go. This place smells like a dump.” As she turned to leave, her gaze settled on the piglets in the pen. “Oh, by the way, sister.” “I hear these genetic pigs are your entire life?” “Make sure you watch them closely. It would be a shame if they suddenly dropped dead.” With a cruel smirk, she pulled a dark chocolate bar from her designer bag and tossed it directly into the pen. “Here, you filthy animals! Enjoy!” The smallest Golden Kirin piglet immediately trotted toward the chocolate, sniffing it curiously. Chocolate is highly toxic to pigs. My heart leapt into my throat. Dropping the salt, I lunged over the wooden railing. “Don’t touch it!” I snatched the chocolate away just as the piglet’s teeth clamped down, its sharp tusk grazing the back of my hand, leaving a long, bleeding scratch. Tanya watched my frantic struggle, laughing hysterically. “Oh my god, Gwen! Are you actually fighting a pig for food?” “You must be absolutely starving!” 4 Chad joined in her laughter as he started the BMW. The car kicked up a massive cloud of dust as they roared down the dirt road. I clutched the crushed chocolate bar in my hand, watching the dust settle with a cold, unwavering focus. Marcus dropped his bucket, rushing to my side to grab my bleeding hand. “Gwen! Are you okay? Does it hurt?” He was sweating profusely, tears of anxiety welling in his eyes. “This is my fault… I’m so useless…” I pulled my hand back, casually wiping the blood on my jeans. “Don’t cry, Marcus.” “Tears don’t solve anything.” I squeezed my hand, crushing the chocolate to dust. “Remember the humiliation they brought us today.” “Very soon, I will make sure they pay it back a hundredfold.” A month later, the piglets were thriving. The golden tufts behind their ears were becoming more pronounced, and their growth rate far exceeded that of ordinary breeds. Marcus spent his evenings recording data, practically vibrating with excitement. “Gwen! At this rate, they’ll be ready for evaluation in two months!” “The professor said if this first generation survives, we can extract the active enzyme for lab testing.” “If the data meets the standard, pharmaceutical companies will buy them at a premium; easily a hundred times the price of ordinary livestock!” A hundred times. That was hundreds of thousands of dollars. But I knew this was only the beginning. The real value of these Kirins lay in their genetic patent. That was a multi-billion-dollar asset. However, trouble always travels faster than fortune. One afternoon, while I was mixing the grain feed, our farm gate was violently kicked open. My parents marched into the yard, followed by several burly men. Leading them was a middle-aged man with a severe limp, a pockmarked face, and a greasy, unsettling smile. It was Greer, a wealthy but notoriously abusive bachelor from the neighboring town. He had a reputation for violence, and three of his previous wives had fled the state to escape him. Seeing Greer, my stomach turned. “Mom, Dad, what is the meaning of this?” I demanded, stepping in front of the pen, my hand gripping a shovel. My mother lunged forward, trying to grab my arm. “What does it look like? We’re taking you home to secure your future!” “Have you lost your mind, living in this dump?” “Your sister Tanya is entering a major modeling competition and needs funding to secure her connections.” “Mr. Greer has offered a twenty-thousand-dollar dowry for your hand!” “Pack your things and marry him today!” Twenty thousand dollars? To fund Tanya’s vanity, they were willing to sell me to a known abuser? I let out a cold, bitter laugh. “If Tanya needs money so badly, why don’t you sell her?” “Why is it always my life on the line?” “How dare you!” my father roared, stepping forward to strike my shoulder with his walking stick. The impact sent a sharp jolt of pain through my back, nearly forcing me to my knees. “Disgraceful girl! How dare you speak of your sister that way?” “Tanya is destined for greatness! You’re nothing but dirt!” “Being able to support your sister is the only useful thing you’ll ever do!” Greer let out a greasy chuckle, revealing a row of yellow teeth as he limped toward me. “So this is Gwen? You certainly have spirit.” “Come with me. As long as you know your place, I won’t have to discipline you too harshly.” He reached out a beefy hand to grab my wrist. “Get away from me!” I swung the shovel, striking his hand with the flat of the metal. Greer let out a sharp howl, clutching his bruised fingers. “You little bitch! Grab her! Tie her up and throw her in the truck!” The hired thugs immediately closed in. “Marcus!” I screamed. Marcus, who had been cutting clover in the hills, came running at the sound of my voice. Seeing the scene, his eyes turned bloodshot with fury. “Get your hands off her!” He brandished his scythe, charging the thugs like a wild animal. But he was outnumbered. Within seconds, several men tackled him to the ground, punches raining down on his face until blood dripped from his lip. Two men pinned my arms behind my back, rendering me completely helpless. My mother gestured frantically to the truck. “Hurry! Throw her in!” “Mr. Greer, when will the funds clear?” Greer spat on the ground, glaring at me with venomous promise. “The second she’s locked in my basement, the money is yours.” “She has a wild mouth. I’ll make sure to break her in once we get home!”

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A video of me scolding a child trended number one on Twitter. Netizens quickly figured out the kid was the son of NYC’s most elusive billionaire heir. My rival starlet tweeted her outrage: [She looks glamorous on the outside, but who knew she was a child abuser in private? Is she bullying him because he doesn’t have a mother?] Haters united to boycott me, screaming for me to get out of Hollywood. Me: “?” Wait… who said this kid doesn’t have a mother? That night, the billionaire heir tagged me: [Allow me to introduce everyone to my wife.] 1 Early in the morning, before I was even fully awake, my manager Valerie burst through my front door in a panic. “Scarlett, you’re finished!” I was completely confused, but her face looked like the sky had just fallen. “How could you have the nerve to hit Harrison Vance’s son?!” Me: “???” Valerie quickly unlocked her phone and shoved it into my face. A hashtag titled #ScarlettBlakeChildAbuse was sitting at the number one trending spot. In the video, I was pinching a little three-or-four-year-old boy’s cheeks, my mouth moving as I clearly lectured him about something. The kid looked up at me with big, teary eyes, standing perfectly still, not daring to move an inch. Because of the camera angle, my expression—which was actually super gentle at the time—looked incredibly harsh and aggressive in the video. [Oh my god, is that Scarlett Blake? What the hell is she doing?!] [Hurting a kid? That poor little boy looks terrified!] [That’s not just hurting a kid, that’s straight-up child abuse! Industry insiders have always said Scarlett is selfish, manic, and uses people as punching bags! I can’t believe she’s not even sparing a toddler! Look at her terrifying face!] The comment section under the video was a cesspool of rumors and insults. Naturally, a few people tried to defend me. That is, until someone posted a specific photo. It was a paparazzi shot of Harrison Vance holding a little boy’s hand at a private charity gala. In the photo, the man wore a sharp black suit. He was devastatingly handsome, his dark, deep-set eyes radiating a cold, untouchable aura. And the little boy holding his hand looked like a carbon copy cut from the exact same mold! [Holy crap! That kid is Harrison Vance’s son!] Everyone knew Harrison Vance, the elusive heir to the Vance empire, the ultimate “Prince of Wall Street.” He had a son whose biological mother was a complete mystery. But it was common knowledge that Harrison spoiled this kid to the heavens. No one was allowed to so much as bump into him. Harrison took his son everywhere. Once, a rival corporate executive tried to secretly “invite” little Hudson over for a “chat.” Although the kidnapping attempt failed, the billionaire heir was so furious he ruthlessly acquired and liquidated every single company under the rival’s name. That incident sent shockwaves through New York’s elite circles. The moment this photo was dropped into the thread, the internet went dead silent for a minute before exploding into unprecedented chaos. Anyone who had been defending me immediately shut their mouths. [Scarlett is done! She is completely finished! Who gave her the audacity to abuse Harrison Vance’s son?!] [Serves her right! I’ve always hated her. She’s probably going to lose her life over this, let alone her career!] At the same time, a few other celebrities decided to jump into the fray. Among them was my biggest rival, the up-and-coming starlet Harper Monroe. Since her debut, she had skyrocketed to fame by copying my fashion sense and acting roles, earning her the nickname “Little Scarlett.” But unlike my edgy, straight-shooting persona, she loved playing the pure, innocent sweetheart on the internet. Harper posted a tweet: [It’s shocking how some people look so glamorous on the outside, but are actually so vicious and cruel. How could anyone commit child abuse? Doesn’t this cross the line into criminal liability?] She even tagged several high-profile celebrity lawyers in the replies. Even though she didn’t name me directly, everyone knew exactly who she was talking about. Her engagement skyrocketed, and her comment section became a breeding ground for people hurling death threats at me. 2 I’ve always been a polarizing figure in Hollywood. I have a massive base of die-hard fans, but an equally massive army of haters. The tiniest thing I do gets magnified a thousand times and instantly hits the trending page. Let alone when my name was suddenly put in the same sentence as “Child Abuse” and “Billionaire Heir.” Valerie’s phone was ringing off the hook. When the trend first started, most of my brand sponsors and business partners were secretly watching from the sidelines, waiting to see how it played out. But the moment it was revealed that the kid was Harrison Vance’s son, they all started calling to terminate my contracts. Me: “…” Harrison and I had been secretly married for five years. Hudson is my son. I thought my own kid looked cute, so I pinched his cheeks. Is that a crime?! Yesterday, I had just rushed out of a commercial shoot and was hurrying to my next schedule when I saw my son waiting for me. He looked up at me pitifully and said Daddy had prepared a candlelight dinner and wanted to invite me home to eat. If he could, Harrison would prepare six meals a day just to keep me at home! My temples throbbed. I was terrified the paparazzi would photograph the kid—it was way less safe for him to be seen with me than with Harrison. So, I sternly told him to hurry back to his dad’s car. I didn’t expect a paparazzi to actually catch it, much less post it online and frame it as child abuse. Valerie collapsed onto my sofa, muttering, “It’s over… it’s over… it’s all over.” Seeing her looking so defeated, I felt a twinge of guilt. “Valerie, maybe there’s a turning point…” But before I could finish, she cut me off, wailing, “What turning point?! Everyone knows you don’t mess with Harrison Vance’s son! You could have pinched anyone! You could have pinched me! Why did you have to provoke his kid?!” I opened my mouth to explain, but her phone rang again. When Valerie came back from taking the call, her eyes were shining. “Scarlett! A reality TV show just reached out! They’re offering three times your usual rate! Let’s do one last big heist before you get blacklisted from the industry!” Me: “…” Looking at Valerie’s desperate, hopeful face, I sighed and nodded. 3 It was a travel and lifestyle reality show. The producers clearly saw the massive traffic my scandal was generating. They didn’t just invite me; they invited Harper Monroe, too. The entire show was broadcast via livestream. When I arrived on set, Harper was literally facing the camera, giving a legal PSA: “Child abuse is a felony. In severe cases, it constitutes a criminal offense that can carry actual prison time…” The live chat was flooded with comments praising Harper for being so beautiful and kind-hearted. However, the moment she saw me, her face turned ice-cold. The cameras immediately zoomed in on me, and the chat exploded. [Holy shit! How does Scarlett have the nerve to show her face on a live broadcast right now?!] [Where are the cops?! Why hasn’t she been arrested yet?! She committed a crime!] [Five stars to Harper! Our girl is so straightforward and hates injustice! You can tell just by her face how angry she is to see Scarlett!] [That was child abuse! Even I was furious watching it! Toxic Scarlett, get out of the entertainment industry!] Harper walked right up to me and demanded, “Scarlett, do you have anything to say for yourself regarding your abuse of that child?” I let out a cold laugh. “I have absolutely nothing to say to you. If you’re sick, go to a doctor. Don’t come barking at me; I’m not a vet.” My reputation on the internet was already in the gutter, and I had always despised Harper anyway, so I didn’t bother holding back. Harper’s face flushed bright red, clearly furious. The livestream viewers launched a new wave of attacks against me. [Damn! That bitch Scarlett actually dared to call Harper sick?!] [Toxic Scarlett! I want to rip her face off!] [Honestly, I kind of agree with Scarlett here. If you just watch the video, she’s literally just pinching a kid’s cheek. It doesn’t look like actual abuse. It’s one thing for netizens to gossip, but Harper is a public figure pinning a felony charge on her, lecturing about the law on a livestream, and leading a hate mob. She deserved to get roasted.] [To the person above, you’re disgusting. You probably enjoy abusing kids in your free time too, huh?] There were a few people speaking up for me, but they were quickly buried under an avalanche of hate. Harper sneered. “Scarlett, don’t be so arrogant. We live in a society with laws. Everyone has to pay for what they’ve done! Harrison won’t let you get away with this!” Harrison? What the hell was that? She called him by his first name like they were close friends? The livestream viewers were just as curious. [Wait, Harrison? Does she mean Harrison Vance?] [Does Goddess Harper actually know the billionaire heir personally? Otherwise, why would she call him so casually?] [Ahhh! Harper, tell us! What’s your connection?!] Harper saw the comments scrolling by on the monitor. She took a deep breath, a smug smile tugging at her lips, and looked directly into the camera. “That’s right. I wasn’t going to say anything. But Scarlett has gone too far. I can’t just stand by while she bullies my little nephew!” “As his aunt, I couldn’t just watch! I had to stand up! The truth is… Harrison Vance is my cousin!” Harrison’s cousin?! Why did I not know about this?! 4 Harper’s declaration sent a massive tsunami through the livestream. The chat went absolute feral. [NO WAY! Harper is Harrison Vance’s cousin?! She kept that hidden so well! I’ve never heard a single rumor about this!] [Omg I’m crying! My girl really comes from a super-wealthy background, but she’s still so beautiful and hardworking! She deserves all her fame!] [Scarlett is officially dead meat! She bullied the young master of the Vance family, and now his aunt is standing right here!] [At first, I thought Harper was just clout-chasing, but she actually stepped up because she’s fiercely protective of her family. Respect.] I furrowed my brows, voicing the exact question in my head: “How come I’ve never heard that you were Harrison Vance’s cousin?” Harrison is an only child. Even though our marriage is a secret to the public, I know almost all of his relatives. I had never heard of him having a cousin named Harper. Seeing the viewer count skyrocketing, the director of the show got visibly excited. The name “Harrison Vance” represented absolute power and endless traffic, but the man himself was unreachable. Now that “Harrison’s cousin” was standing right in front of him, the director knew he had to milk this opportunity! Immediately, the director signaled the cameraman to give Harper a close-up. “Harper, does that mean you hid your identity in Hollywood just to experience life as a normal person?” Harper gave the camera a perfectly practiced, modest smile. “Being an actress has always been my dream. The reason I never mentioned my background is that I didn’t want people to think my success came from my cousin’s empire. I wanted to prove my own worth to everyone.” [Oh my god! I love her so much! She works so hard!] [I’ve always said stan Harper! She never disappoints!] Harper’s words instantly trended on X. #HarperMonroeSecretHeiress #HarperMonroeChasingDreams Her hashtags dominated the trending page, and her follower count skyrocketed by the second. I only found all this out from listening to the production staff whispering off-camera; as part of the show’s rules, all guests had our phones confiscated. Striking while the iron was hot, the director asked, “Harper, our next filming location is in Aspen. I’ve heard the Vance family owns a massive private estate there. Do you think you could ask Mr. Vance to lend the estate to our production crew for a few days?” “No problem,” Harper agreed without missing a beat. I narrowed my eyes. Harrison did own a massive mansion in Aspen. I was the one who picked it out. The scenery was stunning, and it was large enough to easily house an entire production crew. But that property was legally registered under my name. “Did you even ask the owner of the house? And you just casually agreed?” I asked. Harper frowned, looking at me with deep annoyance. “My cousin and I are incredibly close. What’s the problem with me borrowing his house for a few days?” A young woman in a white dress walked up and linked her arm through Harper’s. “Harper, some people are just jealous and bitter. Let’s just ignore her.” This was Madison Hayes, another actress participating in the show. There were six guests in total: me, Harper, Madison, and three male celebrities. Right now, the other five were clustered together, deliberately keeping their distance from me. Off-camera, Valerie was frantically winking at me, signaling me not to pick a fight. I clenched my hands and kept my mouth shut. I really wanted to see how Harper planned to get into that Aspen mansion.

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1 My wife was pregnant. But I had been diagnosed with absolute infertility years ago. After smoking on the balcony all night, my chest heavy with a suffocating weight, I made a choice. I decided to forgive her. “As long as you promise never to see him again and carry this baby to term, I will raise it as my own,” I told her, my voice cracking. But instead of looking relieved, Tessa handed me a signed abortion consent form, her eyes rimmed with red. “I am going to say this one last time, Logan. I have always been committed to being childfree. I have never, ever done anything to betray you.” “I don’t know how I got pregnant. I had the clinic preserve the embryo tissue because I’m going to the police. I was drugged and assaulted.” I clenched my fists, the blood rushing to my ears as I roared. “Are you insane? You want to go to the police so everyone can find out I can’t have kids? You want the whole town laughing at me?” “Tessa, you made a mistake and you’re too cowardly to admit it. But trying to humiliate me like this? That is pure malice!” Stunned by my harsh accusation, Tessa wept silently, ultimately agreeing to drop the police report to protect my pride. Seeing that she was willing to abort the child to save our marriage, I chose to bury my doubts and move on. But to my absolute horror, barely a month later, Tessa tested positive again. I lost my mind. I smashed almost everything in our living room, clawing at my hair as I screamed in agony. “You’re incredible, Tessa! Truly incredible! I am with you almost every single day, and you still find a way to run off and cheat on me!” “Tell me! Who is he?!” Tessa collapsed onto the floor, sobbing so hard she could barely breathe. “I don’t know! I swear, I have never touched another man! This past month, I’ve gone nowhere but the office and this house!” This time, I was the one who drove her to the clinic. Immediately after the procedure, I booked two tickets for a secluded resort in New England. “Sweetheart, I must have done something wrong to let another man slip into your life,” I murmured, holding her close. “Let’s get away for a while. Just you and me.” For an entire month, we were completely inseparable. We hiked, we read, and our relationship seemed to return to the sweet, passionate days of our early marriage. But on the very night before our flight back, Tessa stared at a plastic stick in the bathroom, her face pale. She was pregnant. Again. I snapped the plastic test strip in half, my knuckles white, my eyes locked on Tessa. “This past month, except for when you went to the bathroom, we haven’t spent a single second apart.” “But I sleep heavily at night. If you were sneaking out while I was asleep…” Three consecutive pregnancies. This time, the betrayal had happened right under my nose, and my sanity was hanging by a thread. Tessa stood up abruptly, her voice pitching into a defensive shriek. “I have explained this to you a thousand times! I have never betrayed you! You’ve never believed a single word I’ve said, have you?” “Fine! We haven’t changed hotels once this month. Let’s go down to the front desk right now and pull the security tapes. Let’s see if I sneaked out to sleep with another man while you were snoring!” The raw, desperate hurt in her voice tore at my heart. I loved her deeply, and even with the evidence staring me in the face, a part of me desperately wanted to find a logical explanation to clear her name. Closing my eyes, I let out a ragged breath. “Fine. We’ll check the tapes. For your sake, I hope they show what you claim. Because if they don’t, we are done.” But as the hotel security manager scrolled through the high-definition footage, my brow furrowed deeper. “This makes no sense,” I muttered, staring at the screen. “If my wife never left the room, and no one ever entered, how did she get pregnant? Is she capable of immaculate conception?” I shot a suspicious glance at the manager. “Is she sleeping with someone on your staff? Did you alter these tapes to make a fool out of me?” Terrified of a lawsuit, the manager quickly offered to send the raw footage to the local precinct for a forensic digital audit. Then, he hesitated, offering a quiet suggestion. “I read a thread online once… about public pools. They said if a woman swims in a pool where a man has recently… well, you know, she can get pregnant. Since you two seem so close, did you visit any public swim areas?” “No,” I replied immediately. “She had just had a procedure before we came here. To protect her health, I kept our itinerary strictly dry. We only went to mountain lookouts, cafes, libraries, and scenic parks.” “Logan, please believe me,” Tessa whispered, clutching my arm. “I could never love anyone else. I would never betray you.” Her words were deeply moving, but they only made the mystery more terrifying. If she was telling the truth, and she hadn’t sneaked out, how was this happening? Was she some kind of biological anomaly? A bizarre, impossible thought suddenly flashed through my mind, making my heart hammer against my ribs. Hearing my theory, Tessa burst into tears of hope, her eyes wide with desperation. “Are you saying… your condition might have cured itself? That these babies are actually yours?” I nodded slowly. “Is it possible? Because if it isn’t me, who else could it be?” Tessa shook her head frantically. “I’ve never touched anyone else! Logan, we can’t do a paternity test on this new pregnancy yet, but I still have the preserved tissue from the first two clinics!” Without a moment’s delay, we caught the earliest flight back, driving straight from the airport to the medical lab. While we waited for the genetic results, I booked an urgent appointment with a leading urology specialist. My chest rose and fell with a chaotic mix of excitement and anxiety. I had spent years believing I would never have a family, yet here was a miracle, chasing us down. But when the specialist reviewed my file and looked at me with a look of quiet pity, a hot flash of humiliation rushed to my face. Before I could speak, Tessa walked into the consulting room, a paper clutched in her hand. “Logan, the paternity results are back,” she said, her voice trembling. “Let’s look at them together.” I forced myself to remain calm, locking down the urge to shake the truth out of her. I wanted to see her face when she read the document. “Logan, remember, we agreed on being childfree,” she murmured, opening the envelope. “Even if these babies are ours, I still don’t want to keep them.” As her eyes scanned the page, the color drained from her face. She collapsed onto the clinic chair, the paper slipping from her fingers. Paternity index: 0.00%. Logan is excluded as the biological father. “Are you having fun playing with me, Tessa?” I whispered, my voice cold. “What did I ever do to deserve this kind of humiliation?” “Let’s get a divorce. You can go sleep with whoever you want.” Her devastated expression didn’t move me this time. I felt as though the blood in my veins had turned to ice. I turned and began to walk toward the exit, my strength entirely depleted. Tessa chased after me, grabbing my coat. Her lips parted, but no sound came out. What was there left to say? A woman doesn’t get pregnant without a man. “Logan, I’m so sorry,” she wept. I turned back, my eyes bloodshot, a bitter laugh escaping my throat. “You’re finally admitting it? Good. At least let me leave this marriage with the truth, or I will hate you for the rest of my life.” But she looked at me with a gaze so intense, so desperate, that it threw me off. “I am sorry, Logan. But this time, I cannot care about your pride. I am going to the police.” “I will not walk away from you carrying a stranger’s child while bearing the reputation of a cheat.” “I love you, but I have to find out how these babies are getting inside me.” I was so angry I wanted to scream, but instead, I let out a dry, humorless chuckle. Even now, she was committed to this lie. I grabbed her by the shoulders. “Fine. We’ll go to the police together. But you better hope you’re telling the truth, Tessa. Because if you’re lying, I will make sure we both go down together.” With our persistent demands, the police finally opened an official inquiry. They sent Tessa for a detailed ultrasound to establish the exact conception timelines, while detectives coordinated with the resort local authorities to audit every single second of security footage from our trip. A week later, the lead detective sat us down, spreading a massive, detailed timeline across the table. “Mr. and Mrs. Lin, your wife’s routine is incredibly simple. Aside from her office and your home, her only stops are the local grocery store and the dry cleaners. We have audited every camera along her daily commute. There is absolutely no window for sexual assault, and we can confirm she has not met with any other men.” I stood up, my chair scraping loudly against the floor. “That’s impossible! She had a full medical evaluation last week. She hasn’t undergone some genetic mutation. She cannot get pregnant without a man!” “If she wasn’t assaulted, and she didn’t cheat, where are these babies coming from?” The detectives exchanged uncomfortable glances. “Your wife has not been harmed, so we cannot pursue a criminal case. As for the medical mystery of her pregnancies, I’m afraid that is outside our jurisdiction.” Walking out of the precinct, I stared at Tessa’s pale, terrified face. The mystery was growing deeper and more terrifying by the hour. But at least I knew one thing: she hadn’t betrayed me. “Tessa, I’m sorry,” I whispered, pulling her into a hug. “I was a fool. I should have trusted your loyalty.” “Maybe this baby is a gift. Let’s not worry about how it happened. Your child is my child.” “Let’s keep it. We’ll raise it together, okay?” Tessa suddenly shoved me away, her expression wild with fear. “No! Don’t you find this terrifying? A child randomly appearing inside me over and over again?” “And I don’t want children! That was the deal when we got married!” My chest tightened. “But you fought so hard to find the truth. Didn’t you want to keep it?” “I wanted to prove my innocence!” she cried. “I wanted to know if I was sick or if someone was hurting me! When a person is sick, they seek a diagnosis so they can treat it!” She turned and began marching toward the clinic. A sudden, inexplicable panic seized me. A strange, quiet voice seemed to echo in my mind, urging me to stop her, telling me that we had to keep this baby. I ran ahead, blocking her path. “Are you going to abort it again? Tessa, please, let’s keep this one. Our house will be so much livelier.” “Your body can’t take another procedure so soon. Don’t you see? Every time you abort, it just happens again. This baby is meant to be ours.” Tessa stared at me, her eyes filled with a sudden, deep sense of betrayal. “You don’t care about my health at all. You just want to use this baby to prove your own masculinity.” “You don’t love me, Logan. You only care about your pride.” “I am a childfree woman, and whatever is putting these things inside me isn’t normal. It’s a monster, and I won’t carry it.” As I watched her panic, a cold shiver ran down my spine. But her words triggered a memory. I quickly pulled out my phone and called Preston. Preston was a holistic, alternative practitioner. Years ago, my mother had suffered from an inexplicable fever that lasted fourteen days. No specialist could find the cause. Preston had visited her, claimed she was carrying a heavy spiritual attachment, and prepared a herbal wash. The fever had vanished that very night and never returned. I believed in Preston’s insight. “Tessa, let’s make a deal. We’ll see Preston. If he can’t find an explanation, we’ll let the doctors handle it, okay?” Tessa didn’t fight me this time. She placed a protective, trembling hand over her stomach and nodded slowly. Preston arrived at our apartment that evening. After examining the space and speaking with Tessa, he let out a long, quiet sigh. “There is no negative energy here. If you wish to carry this child to term, you may do so safely.” I let out a massive breath of relief. Tessa leaned forward, her voice tight. “Preston, please, I can pay you more. Can you tell me how this is happening? If I don’t know, I can’t sleep at night.” Preston looked at us with a quiet, solemn expression. “The unborn carry their own path. I cannot speak further on the mechanism, or I will disrupt the natural balance.” As he turned to leave, Tessa called out to his retreating back. “If I abort this baby, will it happen again next month?” Preston paused at the door, but he didn’t turn back, leaving without another word. I wrapped my arms around Tessa, pulling her close. “See, sweetheart? It’s not a curse. He said it’s safe. Let’s keep the baby. I promise I will take care of everything.” By now, my initial confusion had turned into a desperate, eager anticipation of becoming a father. But I could feel Tessa’s body stiffening with a growing, wild terror. “No. I cannot carry a child when I don’t even know whose it is.” “Logan, if you want a child so badly, you can find someone else.” “I am going to get an abortion, and I am going to find the truth, no matter what it takes!” My brow furrowed. I knew Tessa’s stubborn nature; she would go through with it. But my biological fertility was compromised. If I let her abort this child, I might never have another chance. This baby was a miracle, even if she had to be the vessel for it. Why was she being so cruel to me? Once the child was born, she would learn to love it. Driven by a desperate, manic protectiveness, I decided to keep her confined at home. Using my physical strength, I easily locked her in the master bedroom. She went on a hunger strike, throwing herself against the walls, trying to trigger a miscarriage. Terrified for her safety, I had no choice but to secure her to the bed, administering nutrient IVs to keep her and the baby alive. “Tessa, please, I promise you won’t have to raise it,” I begged, kneeling by her bedside. “This might be my only shot at being a father. It’s the only proof that I am a complete man.” “Please, stop fighting me. Just carry it to term, and I will do whatever you want!” But she simply turned her head away, her silence a freezing shield. Her health began to deteriorate rapidly. The turning point came a month later. I unpinned her to take her to the clinic for a mandatory prenatal checkup. The moment we stepped out of the apartment, she bit my arm hard, tearing herself from my grip and running down the corridor. By the time I caught up to her, she had slipped on the stairwell, tumbling down the steps. A dark, crimson stain began to spread across her sweatpants. I screamed for help, carrying her into the emergency room. The doctor ran the ultrasound probe over her abdomen, his face tight with concern. “The fetal heart rate is dropping. Prepare the operating room immediately!” As the nurse reached for the phone, the doctor froze, staring at the monitor. “Wait… what is that?” My eyes went wide, and I pushed closer to the screen. “Is something wrong?” “There’s a second embryo here. But according to the size, this one is only five days old.” My breath hitched. “How is that possible? The ultrasound last month only showed one fetus.” “This isn’t a twin from the same conception. This is a second, separate fertilization. It’s an incredibly rare medical phenomenon called superfetation, where a pregnant woman conceives again.” The doctor’s words sent a chill down my spine. “So… she conceived again? Within the last five days?” But she had been locked in the room with only me for the past month! And I hadn’t touched her! “We don’t have time to discuss the details,” the doctor said urgently, gesturing to the orderly. “We need to get her to surgery immediately, or we will lose both.” Overwhelmed by a sudden, creeping terror, I grabbed the doctor’s arm. “No! Get rid of them! We don’t want them! They’re monsters!” “Tessa, tell them! We don’t want them!” But Tessa didn’t look at me. She stared at the monitor, her eyes wide with a sudden, wild realization. She grabbed the doctor’s hand, her voice cracking with desperation. “Doctor, please! Save my babies! Do whatever it takes to save them!” “Tessa, are you insane?” I yelled. “Your brain is being eaten by whatever is inside you!” Tessa turned her head, looking at me with a gaze filled with deep, sorrowful pity. “Logan… I know how the babies got there.”

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I was hospitalized with a severe fever, and my boyfriend took care of me with flawless devotion. He even urged me to distance myself from my toxic family, telling me not to let them exhaust me anymore. But then, I found a post he made on Reddit. It was a detailed, meticulously formatted post, categorizing and comparing my “stats” against his ex-girlfriend’s. Tens of thousands of users had voted me the “Ultimate Marriage Material.” The reasons? I was an only child, estranged from my family, and a tenured public school teacher. The top pinned comment from him read: But I still can’t forget my ex. 1 While I was sick in the hospital, my boyfriend, Ethan Wright, was incredibly considerate, running around taking care of my every need. My colleagues crowded into my hospital room, chattering away about how lucky I was. They gushed about how I had just landed a secure job at Oakridge High School right out of college, and on top of that, I had the perfect boyfriend. My head was spinning with fever, but I could still hear Ethan joking around with my coworkers. He laughed and agreed when one of them suggested we use the summer break for our honeymoon, and the winter break for my maternity leave. The comment hit right at Ethan’s core desires. He nodded enthusiastically. I felt a sudden twist of discomfort in my chest. I simply closed my eyes and pretended to sleep. When it came to marriage, I still had a lot of reservations. I didn’t want to expose too much of my private life to my colleagues. Plus, Ethan had brought up marriage a few times recently, and I had intentionally avoided giving him a straight answer. He was a wonderful boyfriend. But whenever the topic of tying the knot came up, my instincts always told me to pull away. Once the visiting hour was over, Ethan walked my colleagues out into the hallway. His phone, left on the bedside table, kept buzzing. The screen lit up. The orange Reddit icon kept flashing with notifications. Messages like u/Throwaway123 commented on your post were flooding his lock screen. Driven by some unexplainable urge, I swiped to unlock his phone. I knew his passcode. Under a post titled, Ultimate Marriage Choice: Girl A or Girl B?, I saw his username. It had over 10,000 upvotes and 800 comments. It turned out, my subconscious hesitation wasn’t just baseless paranoia. 2 Ethan walked back into the room right at that moment. He adjusted his glasses, glanced at the phone that had clearly been moved, and asked with a half-joking tone, “Checking my phone?” I forced a smile, pretending everything was perfectly normal. “Just silencing a spam call. What took you so long?” His expression remained perfectly calm as he explained, “I was going to grab you some light soup from the cafeteria on my way back up, but realized I left my phone here. My brain is fried today!” The hospital AC was blasting. I pulled the blanket all the way up to my chin, shivering. He gently wrapped his warm hands around the IV tube, trying to warm up the fluid before it entered my vein. “These bags should be done by the afternoon. I’ll pick you up then, and we can go get a nice steak dinner to build your strength back up. Don’t go to the farmers’ market tonight. You teach all day and spend your evenings shouting over the crowd selling your iced teas. Your throat can’t take it. “Honestly, we should just get the wedding over with this summer. It’ll save you from your parents constantly nagging you for money every time you visit. They have their own retirement savings; I don’t know why they’re always trying to drain yours. “Once we’re married, you can move in with me. My mom can help take care of both of us. You know how much she adores you. She’s always asking when I’m bringing you home.” He spoke with such genuine excitement, smiling at me, his face glowing with anticipation for our married life. But beneath the blanket, my hands were clenched into tight fists. Ethan was great. But his greatness always felt a little… artificial. He never lost his temper with me. Everything he did was meticulously gentle. It was almost as if… he was an AI boyfriend custom-built to my exact preferences. And that Reddit post was now a jagged thorn lodged in my heart. He was definitely hiding something from me. And if I found out what it was, the dynamic between us would inevitably shatter. I gave him a noncommittal smile. “We’ll see.” Ethan didn’t push the issue. He kissed my forehead and left for work. Not long after he left, his mother called to check on me. Ethan was raised by a single mother. They had a very tight-knit relationship, sharing absolutely everything. Before, I used to envy their close bond. But thinking about that post, a cold chill ran down my spine. My tone was a bit stiff. “Thank you for checking in, Mrs. Wright. I’m fine. I won’t be coming over for dinner tonight, though. I booked an afternoon train ticket to go see my parents.” She paused, her voice taking on a slightly scolding edge. “Oh, honey. You really are too attached to your parents. It’ll be better once you’re married. Your parents have their own lives. At the end of the day, your husband’s home is your real home.” As a language teacher, I am hyper-sensitive to tone and subtext. Before today, I only suspected that Ethan and his mother harbored a subtle hostility toward my family. But with that Reddit post fresh in my mind, my suspicions were confirmed. Ethan and his mother were definitely keeping secrets. When I finally got discharged and returned to my apartment, I opened Reddit on my own phone to search for the post. It was gone. Ethan was a meticulous guy. He probably deleted it the second he realized I might snoop. But he forgot one crucial rule: the internet is forever. 3 I remembered the contents of that post almost perfectly. The whole point of his comparison was to calculate value: separating the assets from the liabilities. It read like an actuarial table. Ethan had listed out the family backgrounds, incomes, and career stability of both me and his ex-girlfriend. He literally uploaded a screenshot of an Excel spreadsheet. Height, weight, and “attractiveness ratings” were highlighted in red. I had heard about his ex-girlfriend from his mother. According to Mrs. Wright, Ethan and that girl dated for four years in college and broke up right after graduation. The reason? The girl demanded a massive $50,000 diamond ring and an extravagant wedding fully paid for by Ethan. She wouldn’t budge. His mother had told me, with fierce conviction, “I would never allow a gold-digger like that into our family.” But when she turned to me, her face softened into a warm smile. “Chloe, sweetie, you are the only daughter-in-law I’ll ever acknowledge. Here, wear this bracelet. I bought it specifically for you. It’s going to be our family’s heirloom.” Sitting in my apartment, I rubbed the emerald bracelet on my wrist, feeling sick to my stomach. On my first day wearing this “heirloom” to the teachers’ lounge, a veteran teacher with a good eye pulled me aside and told me it was cheap, dyed glass. She warned me not to wear it often because the chemical dyes could cause a skin rash. At the time, I defended her. “She’s an older lady, she probably just got scammed at a mall kiosk. It’s the thought that counts. I’ll just wear it occasionally so I don’t hurt her feelings.” Looking back, I was painfully naive. In this twisted, passive competition, my “winning” stats were glaringly obvious. The older teachers at my school always joked that a tenured public school job with full pension and union benefits was the ultimate dowry. Add the fact that I was an only child with a highly strained relationship with my parents. I vividly remembered the vile comments under his post: “Bro, secure the bag. When her parents pass, the whole estate is yours.” “Teacher benefits are top-tier. You’ll never pay for healthcare again.” “She doesn’t even want a ring? You could marry six of her for the price of your ex.” I searched the keywords on Twitter and TikTok, and sure enough, several large drama accounts had already screenshotted and reposted the thread. Ethan’s burner username was MissingM. His ex’s name was Mia. The profile picture he used for that burner account was a candid photo I took of his back on our very first date. The irony was suffocating. The post was originally made during my first year teaching—the same year Ethan and I met. Back then, I was trying to build a side hustle selling artisanal iced teas at the weekend farmers’ market. On my first day, a massive thunderstorm hit. I was struggling to push my heavy cart under a building’s awning, drenched and miserable. Yet, I still managed to sell a few cups to people seeking shelter. Ethan bought my first cup of tea that day and asked for my number. He had braved the pouring rain to run to a nearby CVS just to buy me an umbrella. That umbrella was still sitting in the corner of my apartment. I cherished it so much I refused to use it on rainy days, afraid it would get ruined. I truly thought he loved me, at least a little. I thought what we had was a real romance. But the pinned comment under his analytical spreadsheet read: I picked the teacher for the financial security, but I still can’t forget my ex. The timestamp on that comment? Yesterday. 4 I packed a small overnight bag, intending to go to my parents’ house just to clear my head. But Ethan’s words, “I still can’t forget my ex,” echoed in my mind like a cursed loop. I curled up in the corner of my room and cried for a long time. I remembered Ethan mentioning that his ex was obsessed with Instagram. Acting on pure impulse, I created a burner account, searched through dozens of variations of her name, cross-referenced locations, and finally found Mia’s profile. She had updated her story that morning. —Welcoming our little Gemini baby into the world. The photo showed a family of three in a hospital room. The newborn’s face was still red, eyes squeezed shut. On either side, two exhausted but beaming adults looked down at the baby with pure, unadulterated happiness. I scrolled down. Mia had gotten married last year. Her husband looked like a normal, everyday guy—probably a coworker. Her grid was full of the little details of her life. Things like, “Hubby picked me up from work again!” accompanied by a selfie of the two of them wearing helmets, smiling on the back of a beaten-up Vespa. I also saw a post about her wedding. It was a modest, beautiful backyard ceremony. She captioned it: True love doesn’t need a $50k ring or a country club to prove its worth. She was the complete opposite of the shallow gold-digger Ethan’s mother had described. With my sharp eyes, I noticed a familiar profile picture in her likes. It was the same photo of Ethan’s back. The account name was EW_Secret. I hated my own investigative skills in that moment, because clicking on EW_Secret led me to a public Twitter account Ethan had been using. A tweet from three months ago read: Lonely as hell tonight. Who gets this? My girlfriend plays the pure saint and insists on waiting until the wedding night. But she keeps dodging my proposals. What do I do? I didn’t realize Ethan had such a talent for being an online degenerate. The replies were disgusting. Several bot accounts with half-naked profile pictures dropped their Snapchat handles. Ethan replied to one: How much for an hour? Prices ranged from $100 to $600. Ethan didn’t reply publicly after that. Whether he slid into their DMs, I didn’t know. But less than ten days later, Ethan posted a photo of his hand resting on a woman’s bare collarbone. A comment asked: Did you score? Ethan replied: Took three days, but I made a married older woman break her vows for me. There was no shame in his words. No guilt. Only grotesque pride. I felt bile rising in my throat. Someone else commented: Why mess around with used goods? Gross. Ethan replied with a smirking emoji: You just don’t understand the benefits of an older woman. Another user chimed in: This guy is playing chess. Married women keep their mouths shut. No drama. And once you’re married yourself, keeping a side piece is way more thrilling. Ethan simply replied: You get it. Several people replied: Taking notes, bro. Looking closely at the photo Ethan posted, the woman’s face was cropped out. But you could clearly see Ethan’s arm, and on his finger was the matching promise ring he had bought for us. Meanwhile, on his main Facebook account, Ethan was constantly posting our couple photos, writing long, sappy captions about our three-year anniversary. For a moment, the room spun. I genuinely couldn’t tell what was real anymore.

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1 After graduating from college, I took a job at a prominent architectural design firm. In my first six months, I brought in over two million dollars in revenue for the company. Yet, when the year-end bonuses were distributed, my hard-earned payout was snatched by a seasonal winter intern. When I went to the director’s office to demand an explanation, he scoffed at me. “How can you even think to compare yourself to Nadia? Do you have any idea who she is, and who you are?” “Let me be completely honest with you, Paige. After factoring in your basic salary, health insurance, and overhead costs, you actually owe the company a hundred and fifty thousand dollars.” Furious, I decided to take the matter to the general manager. But the general manager simply shrugged and gave me an ultimatum: either pay back the debt immediately, or secure a five-million-dollar corporate sponsorship for the firm; otherwise, they would see me in court. I was so incredibly angry that I stepped out and dialed my father’s number that very night. “Dad, I thought you ran an architectural firm. Since when did you become a mob boss?” “I owe the company a hundred and fifty thousand dollars?” I was utterly dumbfounded. My monthly salary was barely three thousand dollars, and I had no earthly idea how I could have accumulated such a massive debt in just six months. When I first heard the number, my jaw nearly hit the floor. But Director Riggs looked completely unfazed. “Caring for you fresh college graduates is an incredibly expensive endeavor. Office rent, utilities, software licenses, travel reimbursements; those are all heavy costs for the firm.” “But my salary is what I earned by working!” I argued, my voice rising. “And the travel reimbursements? I paid for those trips out of my own pocket first!” Director Riggs slammed the stack of folders onto his desk. “Did HR not explain our system to you? Our base salary is a draw. Do you not understand what a draw is?” Seeing my blank stare, he let out a heavy, patronizing sigh. “A draw is an advance. If the revenue you generate doesn’t cover the company’s overhead, we claw it back.” “Look at you. Sure, you brought in some revenue, but it doesn’t even cover the resources we invested in you. The company has to turn a profit, Paige. If every employee operated at your level of overhead, we’d go bankrupt in a week.” I stared at him, genuinely wondering if there was something wrong with my hearing. For starters, my father had explicitly mentioned at dinner last week that our subsidiary was performing exceptionally well this fiscal year. Furthermore, the team I worked with had generated over ten million dollars in revenue. There was absolutely no risk of bankruptcy. Besides, even if the firm were struggling, that was a management issue. How on earth was that a debt to be paid by an entry-level employee? “But—” “Alright, that’s enough,” Director Riggs interrupted, cutting me off and physically ushering me toward the door. “Times are tough, Paige. You can’t just keep pointing fingers at the company. You need to ask yourself if you’ve truly been working hard enough. If you were, why aren’t you making any money?” My head was spinning as I walked back to my desk. The logic felt incredibly twisted, but my thoughts were too jumbled to find the right words to counter it. I slumped into my chair. My colleague, Hailey, immediately leaned over from her cubicle, her eyes wide with curiosity. “Paige! Did you seriously just ask Director Riggs about the year-end bonuses? You are so brave! What did he say?” I repeated the director’s explanation word for word. Hailey let out a long, knowing sigh. “You’re a top-tier graduate, and you’re still this naive? He’s practically selling you out, and you’re helping him count the cash.” She leaned closer, lowering her voice. “It’s not your fault, honestly. Those old executives are incredibly cunning. You cannot let them trap you in their twisted logic.” Seeing my confusion, she broke it down for me. “Actually, a bunch of interns before you left because of the exact same bonus issue. They weren’t stupid. Who would pay their own employer to work there? It’s a joke.” “What happened to them?” “They paid the settlement fees and left. Apparently, Riggs threatened to sue them and ruin their professional files. They were young and terrified of ruining their careers, so they just paid to make it go away.” “But the annual report shows our branch made a massive profit this year!” Hailey quickly grabbed my sleeve, shushing me. “Keep your voice down! Yes, the branch made money, but that revenue wasn’t credited to your name.” “Look at Nadia. She’s just a seasonal winter intern, but she walked away with a fifty-thousand-dollar year-end bonus!” I followed Hailey’s gaze. Nadia was standing comfortably by Director Riggs’s desk, chatting happily. Riggs, usually so arrogant, was nodding eagerly, his posture almost subservient. “But my dad said seasonal interns don’t get year-end bonuses?” I muttered. Hailey tapped my forehead with the end of her pencil. “Silly girl. Is your dad the boss, or is Nadia’s dad the boss? If Director Riggs says she gets it, she gets it!” 2 I refused to believe my father’s company could be this incredibly corrupt. Armed with my revenue confirmation sheet, I marched back into Director Riggs’s office. Seeing me back so quickly, his hand froze mid-pour as he made tea for Nadia. “Paige Carter. What is it now?” “Director Riggs, the revenue confirmation sheet from last week clearly shows that I personally generated over two million dollars. Since you claim I owe the company money, I would like to see a detailed, itemized breakdown of my expenses.” Riggs’s face instantly twisted in anger. “Paige! I just explained this to you! Why are you still making trouble? You fresh graduates do barely any real work, but you certainly know how to question your superiors! Always causing drama!” “And who told you that preliminary revenue sheet was the final result? Do you not know that management has the right to redistribute revenue based on performance?” Nadia, hearing the commotion, sauntered over with a sweet, patronizing smile. “Paige, you shouldn’t make things difficult for Director Riggs. He works so hard to keep this branch running.” I ignored her, looking past her shoulder to point directly at the director. “If I owe the company a hundred and fifty thousand, what about her? What did she do to deserve a fifty-thousand-dollar bonus?” Riggs slammed his teacup onto the glass desk. The sharp clatter made several colleagues outside turn their heads to peer through the blinds. “Who gave you the right to pry into other employees’ salaries? Do you not know what salary confidentiality is? The company can sue you for this!” He took a deep breath, forcing his voice to calm down. “Paige, I’ll let it slide this time. Go back to your desk.” “But Director Riggs, this is an issue that affects everyone in this office. We deserve a transparent answer.” “And as far as I know, the law requires employers to provide clear, individual revenue statements to their employees. The company cannot just ignore the law!” Riggs’s hand slammed onto the desk with a deafening bang. “You want to compare? You want to use the law to threaten me? Fine! Let’s talk about status! Let’s talk about who she is and who you are, and why on earth the company should pay you a single cent!” Seeing that I still refused to back down, Riggs grabbed me by the sleeve of my cardigan and dragged me out of the office. Every eye in the open-concept workspace locked onto us. In that humiliating moment, I finally understood why my father had insisted I start from the very bottom of the ladder. “Everyone, listen up!” Riggs cleared his throat, raising his voice. “I hear some of you are very curious about your year-end bonuses. Fine. Anyone who wants to see their final revenue statement can come to my office to collect it.” The office erupted into hushed, anxious whispers. Usually, individual revenue was kept strictly confidential, allowing the management to pay whatever they felt like at the end of the year. “However,” Riggs paused, letting his gaze sweep over the room. “As you know, market conditions have been incredibly poor. After factoring in overhead costs, many of you are actually operating at a net loss. In other words, the company has been losing money just to keep you employed.” “Anyone whose statement shows a negative balance will need to transfer the owed amount to my account immediately so I can consolidate and return it to corporate.” The room went dead silent. After a long, agonizing pause, an older colleague spoke up hesitantly. “Director Riggs… if we don’t collect our statements… can we just…?” “Absolutely not!” Riggs shot a meaningful, icy glare in my direction. “You can all thank Paige Carter for this. She’s the one who insisted that withholding statements is illegal, forcing us to make everything public. I wanted to protect you all and handle this quietly, but… well, my hands are tied.” Once again, every eye in the room turned to me, but this time, the look in their eyes was filled with pure resentment. 3 The moment Director Riggs stepped back into his office, a heavy, suffocating silence fell over the room. “Are you kidding me? What an absolute idiot, dragging the rest of us down with her.” A senior colleague nearby spat, his face red with anger. “But this is our basic right,” I argued. “Who asked you?” another colleague snapped, running his hands through his hair in frustration. “You think you’re the only one who went to college?” “Now we might actually have to pay the company back! Are you happy now?” I stepped forward to explain, but Hailey quickly grabbed my arm, pulling me away. “Are you crazy? You want to get beat up?” She dragged me back to my cubicle, whispering fiercely, “Most of these people have mortgages, car payments, and kids to feed! Because of your little crusade, they might not get a bonus at all; they might actually end up in debt! You’re literally threatening their livelihoods!” “But the company’s policy is completely illegal! If we don’t stop it, it’s only going to get worse!” “That is a management problem! Small fry like us can’t change anything!” Hailey let out a long sigh. “Honestly, this place is a sinking ship anyway. You’re young and single, Paige. Just hand in your resignation and find another job.” I shook my head. “I can’t. I made a bet with my dad.” My father had received several anonymous whistleblower letters detailing the complete lack of transparency regarding revenue and employee benefits at this subsidiary. But every time he sent corporate auditors down, they found absolutely nothing. Someone was stealing the employees’ benefits and successfully covering their tracks. “Why not just fire the management?” I had asked him at the time. “It’s not that simple,” my father had replied with a sigh. “We don’t know exactly who is involved yet. More importantly, the employees have been exploited for so long that they’ve become completely numb to it. They need to learn to stand up for themselves.” “I want you to intern there, Paige. It will be an opportunity for you, the company, and the employees to grow.” Hailey watched my determined expression, shaking her head in disbelief. “If you had a wealthy father like Nadia, maybe you could pull this off. But… well, good luck.” While she was talking, I had already found the corporate whistleblower hotline on my phone and dialed it. “What are you doing?!” Hailey looked at me as if I had lost my mind. “Reporting the lack of financial transparency,” I replied honestly. She stared at me, horrified. “Just… try to stay alive, okay?” She immediately scurried back to her desk, pretending she didn’t know me. The hotline connected quickly, and the operator promised to address the issue immediately. Within ten minutes, I received a message: the general manager wanted to see me in his office. When I arrived, Director Riggs was already standing there, looking incredibly smug. “Paige Carter! How long are you going to keep causing trouble?” Riggs snapped the moment I walked in. “Manager Briggs,” I said, ignoring Riggs entirely. “I just want to know why, after six months of hard work, I suddenly owe the company a hundred and fifty thousand dollars.” Manager Briggs offered a warm, grandfatherly smile, though his eyes were as sharp as needles. “Riggs, what is the meaning of this?” Riggs froze, stammering, unable to find his words. “Useless idiot!” Briggs slammed his pen holder onto the desk, glaring at Riggs. “How do you manage your team? You can’t even handle a simple administrative issue! What does the company pay you for?” He ordered Riggs to fetch my physical statement. The office fell silent. “Paige,” Manager Briggs said, his tone softening into a warm, paternal purr. “I’m about the same age as your parents, so I understand how hard it is for young people starting out. It’s not easy… by the way, what do your parents do for a living?” “They’re just ordinary company employees,” I lied, keeping my expression neutral. “They’re retired now.” “Ah, retired,” Briggs murmured, his smile fading slightly as he fell silent. The silence was broken by Riggs returning, clutching a few pages of paper. Briggs took the document, flipping through the pages before throwing them onto the desk. 4 “You foolish girl!” Director Riggs let out a sigh of relief as Briggs turned his anger toward me. Riggs immediately stepped forward, adopting the posture of a loyal lapdog. “Exactly, Manager Briggs! I kept telling her that the preliminary revenue statement wasn’t final, but she insisted on making a scene and disrupting company order!” “But even if the statement is final, there is no logical way I owe a hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Where is the evidence?” “Oh?” Briggs looked at Riggs. Riggs leaned down, whispering something in the general manager’s ear. Briggs nodded slowly, turning back to me. “Your director just informed me that you frequently stay late at the office, wasting company electricity. Furthermore, you consume a massive amount of bottled water. A significant portion of our utility overhead is due to your wastefulness!” “By law, the company has every right to demand immediate repayment, or we will take legal action. However, considering your parents are retired and likely under financial strain, the company is willing to offer you a concession.” Just when I thought the conversation couldn’t possibly get any more absurd, Briggs continued. “We are willing to offer you a second option. If you can secure a five-million-dollar corporate sponsorship for our branch, we will waive your debt and forgo legal action. Otherwise, we cannot keep an unproductive employee.” I stared at them, completely speechless. But Briggs and Riggs looked at me as if they had just offered me a massive act of charity. My hands clenched into tight fists at my sides. It took every ounce of my self-control not to throw a punch. “I don’t have that kind of money. If I could secure five million dollars, I wouldn’t be working here,” I said, my voice cold. “If you don’t have the money, you can always borrow it,” Director Riggs offered, a greasy smile stretching across his face. “I know some online platforms that cater specifically to young women like you. You know, those adult modeling loans?” Seeing my silence, Riggs winked at me, his eyes filled with a disgusting, suggestive light. “Don’t play innocent. Those platforms pay out incredibly fast, and girls like you love using them when you’re short on cash.” He and Briggs exchanged a vile, knowing chuckle. That was the final straw. I lunged forward, delivering a solid left hook to Riggs’s jaw, followed by a vicious right cross. Before Briggs could even react, I had Riggs on the floor, pinning him down and raining punches on his face until he was whimpering like a dog. By the time Hailey and several colleagues managed to pull me off him, the office was swarming with police officers. “It’s her! Officer, arrest her! She didn’t get her bonus, so she went completely insane and attacked me!” Riggs screamed, shrinking behind an officer, his face bruised and swollen. Manager Briggs immediately chimed in. “This employee is clearly unstable. She refused to settle her debt and violently assaulted her superior! Officer, lock her up!” Sitting in the police station, I clutched my phone, my face burning with embarrassment as I wondered how to explain this to my father. But I didn’t have much time to think. The call went through almost instantly. The moment I heard his voice, tears of frustration finally spilled over. “Dad… I thought you ran an architectural firm. Since when did you become a mob boss?”

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A video of me scolding a kid went viral on the trending charts, and netizens quickly dug up the boy’s identity: the son of Manhattan’s most untouchable billionaire heir. My biggest rival tweeted a public condemnation: [She looks so glamorous on the outside, but who knew she was a child abuser in private! Is she picking on him because he doesn’t have a mother?] My anti-fans united to boycott me, screaming for me to get the hell out of the entertainment industry. Me: “?” Wait… who said this kid doesn’t have a mother? That very night, the billionaire heir tagged me on Twitter: [Allow me to introduce everyone to my wife.] 1 Early in the morning, before I was even fully awake, my manager Brenda burst in from outside in an absolute panic. “Harper, you’re done for!” I was completely bewildered, but her face looked like the sky had fallen. “How could you dare hit Carter Sterling’s son?” Me: “???” Brenda quickly unlocked her phone and shoved it into my hands. There it was, a video titled “Harper Hayes Child Abuse” sitting at the very top of the trending list. In the video, I was pinching the cheeks of a three-to-five-year-old kid, my mouth moving as I rambled on, scolding him about something. The little boy looked teary-eyed, standing there not daring to move an inch. Because of the camera angle, my expression—which had actually been affectionate—looked incredibly harsh and strict in the video. [Oh my god, is that Harper Hayes? What is she doing!] [Hurting a kid? That poor boy looks so pitiful!] [That’s not just hurting a kid, that’s child abuse! Industry insiders have been saying for ages that Harper has a selfish, explosive temper and uses violence to vent! I didn’t expect her to target children now! Look at that terrifying expression on her face!] Below the video, there was a mountain of comments spreading rumors and cursing me out. Of course, there were a few trying to defend me. That is, until someone posted a photo. It was a picture of Carter Sterling holding hands with a three-to-five-year-old boy at an event. In the photo, the man wore a sharp black suit. His pale, devastatingly handsome face and deep, dark eyes radiated a cold, unapproachable distance. The kid holding his hand looked like he was carved out of the exact same mold! [Holy crap! That kid is Carter Sterling’s son!] Everyone knew that Carter Sterling, the crown prince of Manhattan’s elite, had a son. No one had ever seen the birth mother, but Carter spoiled the boy to the heavens from the day he was born. The kid wasn’t allowed to suffer so much as a scratch. No matter what Carter did, he took his son with him. Once, a rival company tried to “invite” little Theo over for a chat behind Carter’s back. Even though they failed, the billionaire heir flew into a terrifying rage and ruthlessly acquired every single company under that rival’s name. That incident sent shockwaves through the entire elite circle. Once this photo dropped, the internet went dead silent for a moment before erupting into an even more massive uproar. Those who had been defending me didn’t dare make a peep. [Harper is finished! She is completely done for! Who gave her the nerve to abuse Carter Sterling’s son!] [Harper deserves it! I’ve hated her for ages, and now she’s basically forfeited her own life!] At the same time, some celebrities jumped into the fray. Among them was my biggest rival, the rising starlet Stella Montgomery. Since her debut, she had skyrocketed to fame by copying my outfits and acting roles, earning her the nickname “Little Harper.” But unlike me, she loved playing the pure, innocent victim on the internet. Stella posted a tweet: [I never imagined that someone who looks so glamorous on the surface could be so ruthless. She actually committed child abuse! Doesn’t this cross the line into criminal liability?] She also tagged several high-profile lawyers in the comments. Although she didn’t mention my name, everyone knew exactly who she was talking about. Instantly, her traffic skyrocketed, and her comment section was flooded with vitriol aimed at me. 2 I am the queen of controversial publicity in the industry. I have a legion of loyal fans, but an equally massive army of anti-fans. The tiniest thing about me gets infinitely magnified and sent rocketing up the trending charts. Let alone right now, when my name was sitting right next to “Child Abuse” and “Billionaire Heir.” Brenda’s phone was ringing off the hook. If, at the very beginning of the scandal, brand sponsors and partners were just watching from the shadows without making a move… Now that it was revealed the kid was Carter Sterling’s son, they were all calling to terminate my contracts. Me: “…” Carter and I have been secretly married for five years. Theo is my son. Seeing how cute my son is, I couldn’t resist pinching his cheeks—is that a crime? That day, I had just finished an appearance and was rushing to the next one when my son showed up. He pitifully told me that Daddy had prepared a candlelight dinner and wanted to invite me home to eat together. Three meals a day? Carter could prepare six! The veins on my forehead throbbed. I was afraid the paparazzi would photograph the kid—after all, it wasn’t as safe for him to be with me as it was with Carter—so I scolded him a bit and told him to hurry back. I didn’t expect to actually get caught by the paparazzi, and for them to twist it into me committing child abuse. Brenda collapsed onto the sofa, wailing, “It’s over, it’s over… it’s all over.” Looking at her state, I felt a bit bad. “Brenda, maybe there’s still a turnaround for this…” But before I could finish, Brenda cut me off, sobbing: “What turnaround?! Everyone knows you don’t mess with Carter Sterling’s son! You could have pinched anyone, you could have pinched me! Why did you have to go and provoke his son…” I opened my mouth, about to say something to her, when Brenda’s phone rang again. By the time she finished the call and came back, her eyes were shining. “Harper, a reality TV show wants you! They’re offering three times your usual quote! Let’s do one last big job before we get forced to retire!” Me: “…” Looking at Brenda’s expression, I sighed helplessly and nodded. 3 It was a travel reality show. The producers clearly valued the heat from me getting trashed online. Besides inviting me, they also invited Stella. The entire show was broadcast live. By the time I arrived, Stella was facing the cameras, giving a legal PSA: “Child abuse is punishable by law. Under severe circumstances, it constitutes a felony and can lead to prison time…” The live chat was filled with comments praising Stella for being beautiful and kind-hearted. However, the moment she saw me, Stella’s face turned freezing cold. The camera shifted to me, and the live chat started scrolling wildly. [Damn! How does Harper still have the nerve to show her face in public and join a reality show?!] [Where are the police?! Where are the police! Why haven’t they arrested Harper yet! She committed a crime!] [Five stars for Stella. Our Stella is just straightforward and hates injustice! The moment she laid eyes on Harper, you could clearly see she was angry!] [That was child abuse! I was furious just watching it! Get the hell out of the entertainment industry, toxic Harper!] Stella walked right up to me and said, “Harper, do you have anything you want to say about abusing a child?” I sneered. “I have absolutely nothing to say to you. If you’re sick, don’t come to me. I’m not a veterinarian.” My reputation online was already garbage, and I had been sick of Stella for ages anyway, so I didn’t hold back at all. Stella’s face flushed red, seemingly from pure anger. The netizens in the live stream launched a fresh wave of attacks against me. [Damn! That bitch Harper, how dare she call Stella sick?!] [Toxic Harper! I want to rip your face off!] [To be honest, I kind of agree with what Harper said. Looking at that video alone, she just pinched the kid’s cheeks. It doesn’t reach the level of child abuse. It’s one thing for netizens to gossip, but Stella, a public figure, directly slapped the ‘child abuser’ label on Harper and is lecturing about the law on a live stream to control the narrative. She deserves to get cursed out.] [To the person above, you’re disgusting too. You probably enjoy abusing kids in your free time, huh?] There were people speaking up for me in the live chat, but they were quickly drowned out by the overwhelming insults. Stella let out a cold laugh. “Harper, don’t be so arrogant and reckless. This is a society governed by law! Everyone has to take responsibility for what they’ve done! Carter is not going to let you get away with this!” Carter. What the hell was that about? The live stream viewers were just as curious. [Carter? Does she mean Carter Sterling?] [Could it be that our goddess Stella has some kind of relationship with the billionaire heir? Otherwise, why would she call him ‘Carter’?] [Ahhhhh, Stella, hurry up and tell us! What’s going on!] Stella saw the scrolling comments in the live chat. She took a deep breath, a smirk playing on her lips, and spoke to the camera: “That’s right, I originally didn’t want to say anything. But Harper went too far. She actually bullied my little nephew!” “As his aunt, I really couldn’t stand by and watch anymore, so I had to step forward! The truth is, I am Carter Sterling’s cousin!” Carter’s cousin? Why didn’t I know about this! 4 Stella’s words undoubtedly created a massive tidal wave in the live stream. The chat was boiling over. [Holy shit! Stella is actually Carter Sterling’s cousin?! She hid it so well. We never heard a single whisper of this before!] [Waaaah, I’m crying. Our Stella really comes from a great family, and she’s beautiful and hardworking. She deserves to be a superstar!] [Harper is completely screwed now, right? Bullying the little Sterling heir, and now look, his aunt is standing right here!] [At first I thought Stella was just trying to ride the clout wave, but I didn’t expect she actually just couldn’t stand it anymore and stepped up to protect her family.] I furrowed my brow, voicing the confusion in my heart out loud: “Why didn’t I know you were Carter’s cousin?” Carter is an only child. Although he and I are secretly married to the public, I know almost all of his relatives. I had never heard of him having a cousin. Seeing the viewer count in the live stream rocketing upwards, the director was also getting excited. After all, the name “Carter Sterling” itself represented traffic and power. But Carter was unreachable; they couldn’t get near him. Now that “Carter’s cousin” had appeared right in front of them, the director definitely had to seize the opportunity! Immediately, the director instructed the cameraman to give Stella a close-up and asked, “Stella, so you hiding your identity in the industry… was that just you wanting to experience a normal life?” Stella offered a modest, elegant smile to the camera. “Being an entertainer is my dream. The reason I didn’t say anything before was that I didn’t want people to mistakenly think my achievements were handed to me by my cousin. I wanted to prove my own abilities to everyone.” [Oh my god! I love Stella so much! She is so hardworking!] [Like I said, stanning Goddess Stella is never a loss!] Stella’s quotes rushed straight to the trending list. #StellaMontgomeryIsAHiddenHeiress #StellaMontgomeryHidesIdentityToChaseDreams Several hashtags maintained constant heat, and her follower count was shooting up exponentially. Of course, I only learned all this from the discussions among the nearby staff. When recording a show, guests’ cell phones are confiscated. The director struck while the iron was hot: “Stella, we’re heading to the Hamptons next to film. I heard Mr. Sterling owns a massive mansion in the Hamptons. Could you talk to Mr. Sterling and see if he’d lend that mansion to our production crew for a few days?” “No problem,” Stella agreed immediately. I narrowed my eyes. Carter did indeed own a mansion in the Hamptons. I was the one who picked it out. The scenery around it was beautiful, and it was huge—more than enough to house a production crew. That mansion was registered under my name. “Did you ask the owner before you just agreed?” Stella frowned, looking at me with dissatisfaction. “My cousin and I have always been very close. What’s the problem with me borrowing his place for a few days?” A young woman in a short white skirt standing next to Stella immediately linked arms with her. “Stella, maybe some people are just jealous of you. Let’s ignore her.” This was another female guest participating in the show, named Aubrey Paige. There were six people in total recording this show. Aside from me, Stella, and Aubrey, there were three male guests. The five of them stood together, distancing themselves from me. Off-camera, my manager Brenda kept frantically winking at me, signaling me not to argue with them. I pinched my palms and didn’t say another word. I also wanted to see if Stella could actually get inside that mansion in the Hamptons.

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