Category: English

My college roommate from four years ago, Anna, is getting married and asked us to be her bridesmaids. We had to pay for our own travel, accommodation, and bridesmaid dresses. And there was no traditional red envelope given to thank us for our help. The day before the wedding, we arrived at her rural hometown at 6 AM to help set up the bridal suite. The next evening, right after the wedding wrapped up, we had to find our own way out of the countryside. Thinking about our supposed “sisterhood,” the three of us still showed up like absolute suckers, even bringing generous cash gifts. We endured the humiliation of the vulgar, rural wedding hazing customs. And what did we get in return? She publicly referred to us as “my three maids.” The groom was my ex-boyfriend from college. During the reception, we had to sit through the retelling of their “eight-year-long romantic journey.” Throughout the story, Anna used all of our most embarrassing photos and awkward college moments to make herself look elegant and superior by comparison. Finally, we couldn’t take it anymore and smashed the giant LED screen. That night, I woke up in my college dorm room. Anna was standing there, bragging about an expensive bottle of perfume a suitor had given her. There were four people in this dorm. Three of us had just been reborn. 01 “I told him I didn’t need any perfume, but he insisted! Giving me this on Christmas Eve… do you guys think he’s into me?” Anna held up the expensive bottle of perfume, posing for a selfie, her humblebrag anything but subtle. She didn’t notice that the way I was looking at her had completely changed. When nobody responded, she just kept talking to herself: “This senior said his girlfriend isn’t as pretty as me, and doesn’t have my figure. Is he hinting at something? He even asked me out tonight, but I don’t think of him that way at all.” At that exact moment, my phone buzzed. My boyfriend sent me a selfie from his dorm room, followed by a $5.20 Venmo transfer. The message read: So sorry, baby. I’m stuck finishing a paper tonight and can’t be with you for Christmas Eve. Once I save up some money from my part-time job, I’ll buy you a real present! In the corner of his selfie, I spotted the torn wrapping paper from the exact same expensive perfume Anna was holding. The cheap audacity made me want to throw up. No wonder they had an “eight-year-long romantic journey” at their wedding. They were hooking up right now! Anna was wearing my Gucci coat and carrying my Chanel bag. She spritzed herself with my Jo Malone perfume and said, “Chloe, is your boyfriend not taking you out? I’m so jealous of you. I had plans booked for Christmas Eve a month ago. It’s like these guys have never seen a pretty, rich girl before…” “I’m going to the library tonight. Take off my coat and leave my bag here. I need to use them.” Anna froze. “Oh, and I forgot to mention,” I continued casually, “my family has a habit of putting rubbing alcohol into expired cosmetics so nobody accidentally uses them. Which foundation and perfume did you just put on? Does your face burn?” Anna’s face dropped. She frantically grabbed makeup wipes, furiously scrubbing her face, and yelled, “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?! Are you trying to ruin my skin on purpose?!” I hopped down from my loft bed and stared at her coldly. “Did you ask me before you stole my stuff? Just because I didn’t say anything before doesn’t mean I didn’t know.” “Why… why are you being so mean all of a sudden? It’s just a little bit of makeup.” Anna rolled her eyes, put on a face mask, and headed for the door. “Well, you aren’t wearing this dress, right? I’m running late, I have to go to my date.” The dress she was wearing was also mine—a designer summer slip dress. Anna grabbed a winter coat but purposefully draped it over her arm instead of wearing it. She strutted through the freezing December campus, her bare shoulders exposed, her curves on full display. She tossed her long, curled hair, ensuring every guy she walked past stared. Her intentions couldn’t have been more obvious. I smiled and used my phone app to remotely lock my Porsche. Sure enough, not even half an hour later, Anna kicked the dorm door open. She was completely wrapped in her winter coat, shivering violently, her lips practically purple. “What a broke loser! He actually expected me to take the bus! Taking the bus downtown for dinner?! Is he insane?!” At the exact same time, my boyfriend aggressively texted me five times in a row, asking why the Porsche wouldn’t start. Before I could even reply, he FaceTimed me. The loud ringtone startled Anna. She looked over at me and was about to speak when I answered the call right in front of her. “Chloe, what the hell is your problem? Why did you lock the Porsche?” 02 Hearing my boyfriend’s voice, Anna quickly looked away. But she didn’t look guilty or panicked at all. Wow. So they were intentionally making a fool out of me together. “I’ve been driving that car for weeks, how could you just—” “Who do you think owns the car, buddy? I was in a bad mood, can’t I lock my own car? I thought you were in your dorm doing homework. Why do you need to drive?” My tone was even more aggressive than his, completely catching him off guard. He stammered, “…I, I was just asking! Why are you so mad?” I saw Anna furiously pulling off my dress on the bottom bunk. I laughed and said to the screen, “Let me guess, were you planning to drive my car to take some girl out and pretend you’re rich?” “Well, let me tell you a funny story. I heard about a girl going on a date tonight. She wore her roommate’s clothes, carried her roommate’s bag, and even used her roommate’s expensive three-ply toilet paper. Am I at college to study, or am I running a charity for the homeless?” My boyfriend’s face flushed bright red. He immediately hung up the call. Anna immediately snapped, “Who are you being passive-aggressive towards, Chloe? I washed the clothes before I wore them! Are you really going to hold a few pieces of toilet paper over my head? I don’t owe you anything!” “Just because your boyfriend is broke and pathetic doesn’t mean you get to take your anger out on your roommate! I didn’t do anything to you!” Just then, Mia pushed the door open, returning from the library. As soon as she set down her thermos, Anna rushed over to her, playing the victim. “Mia, please talk some sense into her! Chloe is holding a grudge over a few sheets of toilet paper. Aren’t we supposed to be sisters?” Mia remained completely expressionless and said coldly, “That’s highly debatable.” Mia was also reborn. After attending that disastrous wedding, her hatred for Anna ran deep. Because during the wedding slideshow, Anna had publicly displayed a photo of Mia walking around the dorm in nothing but her bra and underwear. “What… what is wrong with you guys today? You’re acting so weird.” Anna awkwardly sat down in her chair, trying to change the subject. “We’re usually such good friends. It’s like you guys took crazy pills today. Whatever, I’ll let it slide. Mia, pour me a cup of hot water, I almost froze to death out there.” Mia didn’t even look at her. She slammed the lid onto her thermos. “If you want hot water, get it yourself. We aren’t your maids.” Anna froze. Her eyes instantly filled with tears. She curled up on her bed, crying, “I didn’t do anything to you guys…” Girl, are you ever going to drop the princess act? You played us for fools in our past life. Do you really think we’re going to put up with you this time around? Mia glanced at me, asking if I wanted to go shower, treating Anna like she didn’t even exist. When we came back from the showers, Anna was sitting on her bed, happily video-chatting with someone. “…Yes, Sean, I miss you too.” “Of course I’m in my dorm! It’s just three of us right now, one of the girls went home for the weekend.” “What’s so interesting about a girls’ dorm? It’s just a few beds and desks. Here, I’ll show you.” Saying that, Anna leaned out of her bed, switched to her rear camera, and brazenly started filming the entire room. I immediately clutched my towel tightly around myself and warned her, “People are changing in here! Stop filming!” Anna kept her AirPods in, acting like she couldn’t hear me, giggling and introducing the room to the guy on the phone. Mia lost it. She charged forward, hung up Anna’s FaceTime call, grabbed her by the collar, and slapped her hard across the face. “Are you deaf?! People are changing, and there’s underwear hanging up! Who the hell are you filming that for?!” Anna shrieked like a stepped-on cat. “Sean is my cousin! So what if I show him?!” “You’re acting like anyone actually wants to see you! Even if a fat cow like you stripped naked, nobody would want to look!” 03 Mia instantly went silent. She was from the Midwest. She was 5’7″ and weighed maybe 130 pounds. How on earth did that make her fat??? Her eyes, blazing with hatred, locked onto Anna. The fury practically radiated from her head. “You are utterly disgusting!” Mia was strong. She shoved Anna down onto the bed, forcefully ripped her phone from her hands, grabbed Anna’s thumb, and forced it onto the scanner to unlock the phone. “What are you doing?! Why are you taking my phone?!” Mia signaled to me with her eyes. I grimly opened Anna’s photo gallery. It didn’t take long to find the problematic photos. There were pictures of my drying underwear, photos of our other roommate Sarah changing her clothes, and… The photo of Mia completely naked while changing. When we got to that photo, I handed the phone to Mia. Her eyes instantly went red. “That… that was an accident! I must have hit the camera button by mistake, I didn’t even know I took that!” Anna stammered for a moment, then turned her head, acting tough. “What does my photo gallery have to do with you?! Stop invading my privacy! Do you know that’s illegal?!” The next second, she let out a bloodcurdling scream. Mia grabbed the front of Anna’s shirt and ripped it clean in half. “Are you crazy?! You fat pig, you—” Mia shoved the torn fabric into Anna’s mouth to shut her up. She violently stripped Anna completely naked and threw her onto the bed. The dorm door was wide open, the hallway lights blazing. Anna turned pale as a ghost, huddling on her mattress, trembling and whimpering. “Listen to me very carefully. I have permanently deleted everything on your phone. If you ever dare to secretly film us again, I will strip you naked and throw you out the front doors of the lecture hall. Do you understand me?” Anna, crying and snotting all over herself, nodded frantically. Only then did Mia let her go, turning around to grab her laundry basket. Anna stayed curled up on the bed for a minute, recovering. Then she rapidly threw on fresh clothes, grabbed her phone, and bolted out the door. “Is she going to the RA?” I asked. “Maybe. But Mia has a stubborn streak. I’m guessing she’ll escalate this all the way to the top. I wonder what will happen if this blows up?” Anna suddenly stopped in the doorway. Her fists were clenched so tight her knuckles were white, and tears were still streaming from her bloodshot eyes. I walked over with a cold smile, hooked my arm through hers, and offered some fake advice. “Come on, blowing this out of proportion is bad for everyone. Besides, we’re all roommates. We’re sisters, right?” Anna shot me a tearful look, a flash of calculating shrewdness hiding in her eyes. She quickly put on her best victim act. “Of course we’re sisters. I just wanted to record our memories together so we’d have something to look back on after graduation. How could Mia treat me like this?” What a masterclass in gaslighting. The manipulation was so thick, it was no wonder we had all been fooled by her in our past life. “She’s probably just stressed from working three jobs and is in a bad mood. Since we’re all sisters, why don’t you just let it go?” Anna wiped her tears and grabbed my hands, faking sincerity. “You’re right. Sisters shouldn’t hold grudges over small things. Mia is from the country, so she has a bad temper. I’m a well-educated city girl; I should just be the bigger person and tolerate it!” That very night, Anna sent massive paragraphs of text to our fourth roommate, Sarah, who had gone home for the weekend. The gist was: I’m being bullied and isolated in the dorm. Mia physically assaulted me. If you help me speak up, we can go to the RA together and get Mia expelled. I won’t let her get away with this. Do you really think Chloe cares about you? She’s so rich, she looks down on you. Do you really think Mia cares about you? She’s jealous that you’re a local city girl, and she curses you behind your back. You’re my only true friend left. We need to stick together. Sarah read it, instantly forwarded the screenshots to me, and added three words: Is she insane? Sarah was also reborn. She was lucky enough not to have her underwear photographed, but at the wedding, Anna had shamelessly mocked her during the toasts: “So what if she grew up in the city? Both her parents are dead anyway. She’s not nearly as happy as a country girl like me.” 04 Sarah’s parents had died in a car crash shortly after our college graduation. Because of that single, vicious comment, Sarah was the first one to throw a glass at the wedding’s LED screen. Late that night, the three of us reflected deeply in our group chat about why we had let Anna manipulate us so thoroughly in our past life. We were all first-time dorm residents. We figured that living together required tolerance and compromise. Living together for four years was like gaining three new family members. If one family member had “princess syndrome,” liked to take advantage of small things, and lacked a filter… well, she had flaws, but we definitely had flaws too. We decided to just tolerate it and let it go. Even after graduation, when Anna called us crying, saying she couldn’t find any bridesmaids, we stepped up and played the fools. We never expected her to completely trample over all of our bottom lines at her wedding. It finally showed us exactly how garbage her character truly was. So, getting a second chance, none of us planned on letting her off the hook. The next day was Monday. During class, Anna stuck to Sarah like glue, sitting in the very back row, leaning in close, and trying to act buddy-buddy. Her intentions couldn’t have been more obvious. During the lecture, my boyfriend texted me, asking why he couldn’t log into my PSN account. My PSN account had every single game and expansion unlocked, so I always let him use it. After being reborn, the first thing I did was change all my passwords. I instinctively glanced over at Anna. Sure enough, she was holding her phone sideways, sitting in a pre-game lobby, waiting for someone. I pulled out my phone and logged onto my gaming account. Within a second, I received a game invite from a user named [BeNiceToAnna]. In the team chat, Anna typed: I just need one more win to rank up! Carry me, big brother! It’s so nice getting to use your skins. She was even using a matching couple’s avatar with my account. Absolutely disgusting. In my past life, they had flaunted this right in front of my face, and I had been completely blind to it! I joined the game, picked a character, and spent the entire match stealing her loot, stealing her kills, and intentionally getting her killed. She got so mad she almost threw her phone multiple times. But, I still carried her to a win. Anna got so excited she ran to the bathroom to send a voice memo. In her most sickeningly sweet, baby voice, she cooed, “Thank you so much for carrying me to the next rank, big brother—” Before she could finish, I kicked open her stall door and shoved my victory screen right in her face. “Does it feel good to flirt with someone else’s boyfriend in a public toilet?” “Is that loser really as good as me? Can he carry you with a 12-0 streak, or can he drive a Porsche downtown to buy you dinner?” “Since you love digging through my trash so much, how about I put a dumpster on your bed so you can play in it day and night? You two are dating using my money. Am I your sugar daddy? Should I pay for your wedding and his honeymoon too?!” Anna’s face turned beet red. She stood awkwardly in the stall, shifting her weight from foot to foot, and mumbled defensively, “I don’t know what you’re talking about… I’m just playing a game with your boyfriend, are you jealous or something…” Mia just happened to walk into the bathroom. She rushed over, her eyes wide, and asked me loudly, “What? I heard she’s a homewrecker sleeping with taken guys now?” Mia rolled up her sleeves, looking ready to throw down. Anna shrieked, ducked under Mia’s arm, and sprinted out of the bathroom. Sarah walked past us carrying Anna’s abandoned backpack, giving us a reassuring nod. “Anna, what’s wrong? Why are you running?!” Sarah chased after her, pretending to be a concerned friend. As they walked away, I smiled. Insulting someone’s deceased parents is the ultimate line to cross. I knew that by trying to buddy up to Sarah, Anna was signing her own death warrant. Right then, my boyfriend called me again. Seeing I wasn’t picking up, Mia bluntly asked, “Do you want me to cuss out the cheating bastard for you?” How could I let him die so easily? I had to keep him around to properly torture him. Mia stood by the sink, rubbing lotion onto her hands, advising me, “Just don’t let him fool you again. I remember you two broke up senior year last time. This time, dump him early.” She was working a part-time job washing dishes in a cafeteria kitchen. Her hands were red and cracked from the cold water; sometimes she could barely hold a pen. Her family lived in a deeply impoverished rural county. In this second life, she wanted to ride the wave of social media to make money. During those years, platforms like YouTube and TikTok were just beginning to explode, offering massive creator incentives. Mia was working three jobs just to save up enough money to buy a high-end camera to start vlogging. I asked her if she needed any financial help, but she confidently declined. She believed that with her future knowledge, she could definitely make money. This time around, she didn’t even want to apply for the university’s low-income financial aid. She wanted to leave it for students who actually needed it. We never expected that on the day the financial aid applications were announced, someone casually mentioned Mia’s name in the dorm group chat. Instantly, Anna spammed the chat with four or five selfies. The caption read: I finally met a rich girl! This is the newest DJI camera, it’s so cool! My roommate bought a new drone! Turns out she’s been living frugally just to fund her expensive hobbies! She’s so amazing! Sneaking a touch of Mia’s (my roommate) new drone! [Heart] [Heart] Even though she quickly unsent the messages, a lot of people in the dorm group still saw them. She followed it up with a sticking-out-tongue emoji, acting totally innocent, saying she sent it to the wrong chat. And then she immediately posted the exact same thing on her Instagram story. I figured Mia was probably at work and hadn’t checked her phone. Otherwise, she would have climbed through the screen and strangled her. The next second, a direct message from [Class President Sarah] popped up on my screen: Anna actually applied for the low-income financial aid grant. She’s preparing her paperwork right now. What do you think, should we ‘arrange’ a little surprise for her?

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For three years, my husband spent every weekend night fishing with his female coworker. I’d screamed. I’d smashed things. He’d just looked at me, his voice dripping with righteousness. “We’re just fishing. Do you have to act like a complete psycho?” He was even baiting her fishing spot the day I miscarried. All he said was, “There’s nothing going on between us. You’re disgusting.” In the fourth year, I stopped checking up on him. I started leaving early and coming home late, wearing a new, expensive perfume every day. At first, he sneered. “Playing the independent woman now? This is just another one of your games, isn’t it?” But then he came home late one night, fishing gear in hand, to a house stripped bare, even the furniture gone. That’s when he finally panicked. When he called, his voice was trembling. “Where the hell are you in the middle of the night?” Listening to his impotent rage, I replied, my voice a lazy drawl. “So, it’s okay for you to go ‘fishing’ with your coworker, but I can’t go ‘hunting’ with someone else?” 01 My hand was still shaking after I signed the consent form. The doctor glanced at me, her voice flat. “Where’s your family?” “He’s… busy.” “Then you’ll have to go in alone.” The cold metal slid inside me, and my body seized with a pain so sharp it stole my breath. As my consciousness faded, I found myself back three years ago, on that first weekend. Mark was heading out the door, carrying his tackle box for the first time. “Where are you going?” “Company thing. A few of us are going fishing at the reservoir.” I didn’t think anything of it. I even packed sunscreen and lunch for him. He came back beaming, showing me pictures. In a large group of people, a girl named Tiffany stood next to him, her smile brilliant. Soon, the company outing became a weekly event. Then, the large group dwindled, until it was just him and Tiffany. Every weekend, from Friday night until the early hours of Sunday morning. A knot of unease started to form in my stomach. “Why is it always her?” “She’s the only other one who’s into fishing. We’re just friends, what are you thinking?” Then I saw the post on Tiffany’s Instagram. “Thanks to my best bud Mark for another great catch! The night breeze by the lake is amazing.” It was a nine-photo grid. Every shot was a profile of Mark, silhouetted against the water, plus a picture of two glowing fishing bobbers floating close together. I shoved the phone in his face. He snatched it from my hand and threw it onto the sofa. “What is wrong with you? We’re just fishing! Do you have to be so hysterical?” “There is nothing going on between us. We have nothing to hide. Can’t you get your mind out of the gutter for once?” From that day on, “hysterical,” “disgusting,” and “crazy” became my labels. I screamed. I smashed his precious fishing gear. All it got me was colder shoulders and longer absences. “If you keep this up,” he warned, “we’re done.” I was scared. So I learned to swallow it. I told myself I was being too sensitive, that it was just his hobby. I even started helping him pack for his night fishing trips. Mosquito repellent, hand warmers, a thermos filled with hot coffee. The impatience on his face finally began to soften. “See? This is much better. Trust and personal space are the most important things in a marriage.” I clung to those words, fooling myself for another year. Until I got pregnant. The doctor said it was a high-risk pregnancy. I needed bed rest, preferably with a family member around. I clutched Mark’s sleeve, begging him. “Please, don’t go this weekend. Stay home with me.” He frowned. “I already made plans with Tiffany. She’s already reserved the spot. It wouldn’t be right to bail.” “But the doctor said…” “The doctor’s just trying to scare you. You’re not that fragile.” He pried my fingers off his arm. “Look, I’ll be back early on Sunday.” And he left. Saturday afternoon, the cramping started. A sharp, pulling pain deep in my belly. I lay in bed, afraid to move, and called him. The first call went to voicemail. The second one connected. “Yeah?” He sounded annoyed. I could hear the wind and a woman’s laughter in the background. “Mark, I’m in so much pain… please, come home…” “Pain? How much pain can it be? You’re just freaking yourself out.” Over the line, Tiffany’s voice came through, clear as day. “Mark, who is that? Is your wife checking up on you again? You should be nicer to her, you don’t want her getting the wrong idea about us.” Her voice was sugary sweet, laced with a giggle. Mark’s tone immediately softened when he spoke to her. “It’s nothing. You just focus on baiting the spot. The wind’s picking up, the fish should be biting soon.” Then, his voice turned to ice as he spoke back into the phone. “I’m busy! You’re a grown woman. If you don’t feel well, go to the hospital. Stop calling me!” Click. He hung up. Blood trickled down my thighs, staining the white sheets crimson. I struggled out of bed and dialed 911. Lying on the cold operating table, the chill of the anesthesia seeped into my bones. The doctor’s face was impassive. “We couldn’t save the baby. Three months along. It was a boy.” “Your health is poor. It… it might be difficult for you to conceive again.” I couldn’t cry. My chest felt like a hollow cavern with an icy wind whistling through it. I took out my phone and, with the last of my strength, sent Mark a text. “I had a miscarriage.” The screen stayed lit for a long, long time, with no reply. I don’t know how much time passed. Just as I was about to drift off, my phone buzzed. It wasn’t Mark. It was an update to Tiffany’s Instagram story. A photo of her and Mark by the reservoir, a huge net between them, teeming with writhing fish. The caption read: “What a haul! The luck is always insane when I’m with Mark!” Below it, I saw that Mark had liked the post. Five minutes ago. My text message still sat in our chat, unread. In that moment, staring at the sterile, white light on the ceiling, I started to laugh. Olivia, you are such a pathetic fool. These four years have been a joke. After I was wheeled out of the operating room, a nurse handed me a bill. “You need to go settle this.” I looked at the amount and my head spun. I didn’t have my wallet. I had no choice but to dial that number I knew by heart one more time. It rang for a long time before he picked up. “What now?!” The rage in his voice practically burst through the speaker. “I’m at the hospital. I don’t have enough money, can you…” “Are you fucking kidding me?!” he cut me off. “I told you, we’re fishing! Fishing! Do you not understand English? It’s Tiffany’s birthday today, we’re all celebrating! Can you not be such a buzzkill?!” “Her birthday?” I whispered. “Yes, her birthday! We got a cake, we’re right by the lake! Do you have to ruin everything right now? It’s just money, right? I’ll send it to you! Just stop calling me, you’re so damn disgusting!” The line went dead again. A moment later, a notification. A five-hundred-dollar transfer. With a two-word memo: “Shut up.” I stared at those words, and the last bit of warmth drained from my body. I didn’t accept the money. I used the last of my credit on my phone to pay the bill. Alone, I braced myself against the wall and slowly walked out of the hospital. The night air cut against my face like a razor. I looked up at the moon. It was full and bright. Mark. Tiffany. I repeated their names, syllable by syllable. From this day on, I’m no longer the “hysterical” Olivia who revolves around you. What you owe me, I will take back. Every last cent, with interest. 02 I sat on a bench outside the hospital all night. At dawn, I took a cab home. The house was empty. On the coffee table sat the thermos and hand warmers I’d prepared for him. Next to them, a pile of his dirty clothes. Everything was exactly as I’d left it. It was as if yesterday’s heart-wrenching agony had been nothing but a hallucination. I walked into the bedroom and opened the closet. Half of it was mine: simple, elegant clothes. The other half was his: a collection of outdoor brands, tactical jackets, and fishing gear. Tucked in the very back was the tuxedo and wedding dress from our wedding day. I stared at that white gown for a long time. Then, I picked up my phone and made the first call. “Hey, Sophie? It’s me.” Sophie was my best friend, a take-no-prisoners lawyer. “Liv? What’s wrong? You don’t sound right.” “I had a miscarriage.” Three seconds of silence on the other end, followed by a surge of contained fury. “Where is that bastard Mark?!” “Out fishing with his ‘little sister’.” “Fuck!” Sophie swore. “Give me his location. I’m going to go skin him alive!” “Don’t,” I cut her off, my voice terrifyingly calm. “Sophie, I want a divorce.” Sophie was stunned. She knew better than anyone how much I loved Mark. “Are you sure?” “I’m sure.” I looked out at the gray, dreary sky. “I’ve been sure since yesterday afternoon.” “Okay,” Sophie snapped into work mode. “Don’t panic. Don’t do anything. Wait for me to get there. Division of assets, evidence of his infidelity—we need a solid plan.” “Evidence…” I gave a bitter laugh. “I don’t have any.” For four years, I’d been a fool, so focused on fighting with him that I never thought to protect myself. “Doesn’t matter,” Sophie’s voice was steady. “If we don’t have direct evidence, we’ll build a chain of circumstantial evidence. Listen to me. From this moment on, you need to become a completely different person.” After the call, I sat on the cold floor and began to think. Sophie was right. What I wanted wasn’t to stand in a courtroom, crying and begging for a pittance in compensation. I wanted his life in ruins. I wanted him to feel a fraction of the pain I’d endured for four years. I wanted him to watch as I personally tore down everything he held dear. I got up and started moving. First step: assets. I opened my laptop and logged into our online banking. All these years, both our salaries went into a joint account that I managed. Mark was careless. He never asked about it. “The money’s with you, I’m not worried,” he’d always say. Looking back, it wasn’t that he trusted me. He just didn’t care. I looked at the balance. Seven figures. Our entire life savings, built from nothing. Without a moment’s hesitation, I started transferring half of it into a separate account under my mother’s name. Next, I found our stock portfolio. Mark had bought most of them, bragging about some inside tip that was a sure thing. I looked at the sea of red on the screen and let out a cold smirk. Sell. All of it. At market price. I didn’t care about the losses. Once that was done, I made a second call. A moving company. “Hello, I’d like to schedule a move.” “Of course, ma’am. When would you like to schedule it for? Do you have a lot of items?” “Next Saturday. And yes… a lot.” I looked around the home I had so carefully built. “Everything but the floor and the ceiling, I want it all gone.” “And especially, a six-foot-tall glass display cabinet.” That cabinet held Mark’s most prized possessions: his complete set of limited-edition fishing rods and lures. Every single one of them was more valuable to him than my wedding dress, which was currently stuffed in the back of the closet. The next week passed in a strange state of calm. On Sunday afternoon, Mark finally came home. He carried his empty tackle box, looking exhausted, and brought with him the faint scent of a perfume. Tiffany’s favorite. He saw me sitting on the couch and froze. He was probably expecting the usual interrogation, the tears. “You’re back?” I even managed a small smile. He looked uneasy as he set his gear by the wall. “Yeah, I’m back.” He was waiting for me to explode. But I didn’t. I stood up and walked into the kitchen. “You must be hungry. I’ll make you some pasta.” He followed me, leaning against the doorframe, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Are you… okay?” “I’m fine.” I poured the pasta into a bowl, adding a fried egg on top. “Why wouldn’t I be?” I placed the bowl in front of him. “Eat up. You should get some rest.” He picked up his fork but didn’t eat, his gaze fixed on me. “Olivia, what game are you playing now?” I looked up, meeting his eyes with a gentle smile. “No game. I’ve just had some time to think.” “Think about what?” “That trust and personal space are the most important things in a marriage, right?” I threw his own words back at him. “I was too clingy before, always trying to keep you tied down. I won’t be like that anymore. You have your hobbies, and I support you.” Mark’s expression shifted from wary to confused, and finally, to a look of smug relief. He thought he had finally tamed me. He thought I had finally accepted my fate. He dug into his pasta, eating ravenously. “That’s more like it,” he said, his mouth full. “If you’d just thought like this from the start, we could have avoided so many fights.” “Tiffany is always telling me I should spend more time with you, that you must be lonely at home by yourself. I told her you just overthink things.” He rambled on as he ate. I listened quietly, a perfect smile plastered on my face. Inside, I was counting down the days. Enjoy this peace while it lasts, Mark. The storm is coming. 03 From that day on, I changed. I stopped checking his phone, stopped asking where he was. When he went out for his weekend fishing trips, I would even help him clean his gear beforehand and clear out the trunk of the car. At first, Mark reveled in my 180-degree turn. He could talk loudly on the phone with Tiffany at home, discussing which reservoir had the best fish. He could like and comment on her latest Instagram post right in front of me. He savored the feeling of being in complete control. And I just smiled and nodded. “That’s nice.” “Have fun.” “Do you need me to pack anything for you?” A hint of contempt began to creep into his eyes. He believed I had completely given up. A pathetic woman who couldn’t live without him. Meanwhile, my own life was quietly transforming. I threw out all the plain, muted clothes in my closet. I replaced them with sharp, brightly colored power suits. I started using the supplementary credit card Mark had given me to buy things I never would have dared to before. Handbags that cost thousands, perfumes that cost hundreds. Every morning, I’d leave the house wearing a scent he couldn’t possibly name, my makeup flawless. I’d come home late. Sometimes, with the smell of alcohol on my breath. Mark finally started to notice something was wrong. That weekend, as he was getting ready to leave, he saw me standing in front of the mirror, putting on earrings with a little black dress. “You’re going out again?” he asked, frowning. “Mhm, meeting up with some friends.” “Male or female?” I met his gaze in the mirror and smiled. “Mark, we agreed, remember? Mutual trust, personal space.” My words left him speechless, his face turning a dark shade of red. “Don’t you dare use my own words against me! Olivia, something’s been off with you lately!” “Oh?” I turned to face him. “What’s off?” “Who are you dressing up for? Who are you screwing around with, coming home so late every night?” The suspicion and jealousy in his eyes were practically burning. I laughed coldly to myself. He could spend his nights with a female coworker, but he couldn’t stand the thought of me having a life of my own. The hypocrisy was laughable. “It’s just a normal social life,” I said, picking up my purse. “Weren’t you heading out? If you don’t leave soon, you’ll miss the best spot.” I started to walk past him towards the door. He grabbed my wrist, his grip shockingly tight. “Stop pretending to be some independent woman! Do you think your measly salary pays for all this? Tell me! Did you find some rich guy to latch onto?” His fingers dug into my wrist, but I didn’t flinch. I just looked at him calmly. “You’re hurting me.” My composure only fueled his rage. “Answer my question!” “Every penny I spend is clean,” I said, enunciating each word. “But you, Mark, can you say the same about you and Tiffany?” He reacted like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. “Why are you bringing her up again? There is nothing going on between us! You’re the one who’s disgusting me right now!” There it was again. That word. “Disgusting.” It used to feel like a knife to the heart. Now, I just felt numb. My phone rang. I pulled my arm free and answered. “Hello, Mr. Peterson.” A warm, male voice came from the other end. “Ms. Scott, about that position we discussed, the CEO of the company would like to meet you in person. Are you free sometime tomorrow?” “Yes,” I said, my voice bubbling with excitement. “Of course.” “That’s wonderful. I’ll send you the restaurant details shortly. This is an incredible opportunity; they’re very serious about bringing you on.” “Thank you, Mr. Peterson. Thank you so much.” I hung up, a smile still on my face. Mark was staring at me, his eyes practically murderous. “Mr. Peterson? Sounds pretty friendly.” “He’s a friend.” “A friend?” he sneered. “Or your sugar daddy? Olivia, I underestimated you. Playing hard to get while you were already lining up your next meal ticket?” I didn’t bother explaining. He wouldn’t believe me anyway. In his world, a woman was always dependent on a man. If I left him, it must be because I had found someone else to cling to. He couldn’t imagine that a woman could build a better life for herself, by herself. “Think whatever you want.” I opened the door. “I’m leaving. Hope you get a great haul tonight.” The door clicked shut behind me. I heard a loud crash from inside, the sound of something shattering. I leaned against the door and took a deep breath. Sophie’s plan was falling into place. This “Mr. Peterson” was a top-tier headhunter she had introduced me to. I wasn’t looking for another man. I was looking for a job that would let me leave this city for good and start a new life. A new, glittering future. And Mark’s suspicion, his anger—it was all playing right into my hands. The more convinced he was that I had another man, the more completely his world would shatter when the truth finally came out.

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The night before the SATs, my mom slipped sleeping pills into my brother’s milk, just so he could get a good night’s rest. I tried to stop her in time, but she scolded me for having ulterior motives. “If you hadn’t ruined Tyler’s sleep, would he have bombed the test?” Later, I was forced to drop out of school to work, and then forced into an engagement with a wealthy idiot just so she could use the money to buy my brother a house. The day before the wedding, I tried to escape through a window, but accidentally fell six stories to my death. Given a second chance at life, I returned to the night before my brother’s SATs. I stood there and watched as the sleeping pill dissolved into his milk, releasing a rapid stream of tiny bubbles. 1 Mom frowned at the bubbles in the baby bottle, added a spoonful of honey, and finally nodded in satisfaction. Yes, my brother was nineteen years old, but he still drank his milk from a baby bottle. My mom spoiled him rotten, claiming that drinking straight from a glass might make him choke, and a bottle was much safer. “Mom, are you prepping milk for Tyler?” My mom shot me a nasty glare. “Keep your voice down! Don’t wake your brother.” I looked at the blister pack of sleeping pills next to the bottle, two pills visibly popped out. I asked in a hushed whisper, “Did you put sleeping pills in his milk?” Our house was right next to a busy highway. Even at night, you could hear the piercing sound of car horns. My mom wanted my brother to sleep soundly, so she took it upon herself to come up with this brilliant idea. Sleeping pills might knock a person out fast, but they also slow down neural reaction times, causing the side effect of sluggish thinking. In my past life, I forcefully poured the spiked milk down the drain and ran out in the middle of the night to buy noise-canceling earplugs for him. Unfortunately, even if good sleep could magically add points to your SAT score, my brother still wouldn’t have qualified for anything better than an unaccredited strip-mall college. The day the scores came out, Tyler hung his head in anger. Mom hugged him, heartbroken, and then aggressively slapped the apple right out of my hand. “Eat, eat, eat, all you know how to do is eat! Your brother is devastated, and you still have an appetite?” Of course I had an appetite. He usually scored an 800, and this time he scored an 850. It wasn’t exactly a miracle, but you could at least call it a stroke of luck. “Your brother has a habit of drinking milk every night. If you hadn’t poured it out, he wouldn’t have performed so poorly!” From childhood to adulthood, I had heard things like this countless times. “Your brother only likes the tips of the strawberries. You can eat the rest.” “Your brother likes the room that gets the morning sun. You can sleep in the study.” “Your brother likes it quiet. Stop talking so much.” I was so angry I actually laughed. “If you love your precious son so much, why did you even give birth to me?” “If it wasn’t so Tyler would have someone to support him later in life, I would have thrown you out ages ago. You wretched little girl.” I’ve seen plenty of families that favored sons over daughters, but treating the son like a literal god and the daughter like a slave? My mom was truly one of a kind. 2 I always had better grades than my brother, but my mom never praised me once. Instead, she constantly hyped him up, claiming that boys were late bloomers and he would eventually surpass me. Maybe. Maybe when he was buried in the dirt, the grass on his grave would grow a little taller than me. “You still want to go to college? What use is reading so many books for a girl? While you’re young, you should be waiting tables. By the time you’re thirty, even the back of the kitchen won’t want you.” My mom went to my high school and officially withdrew me, completely ruining my bright future. Then she spent a fortune registering me as a VIP on an elite matchmaking site. Did you think she was trying to find me a good husband? Of course not. she wanted to find some rich idiot to extort a massive financial settlement from, all so she could buy her precious son a house. Thinking of everything from my past life, I couldn’t help but hate myself for playing the villain for nothing. “Tyler loves his milk with honey. After drinking this, maybe he’ll get a perfect score and get into an Ivy League,” I said smoothly. In this life, I turned a blind eye to the sleeping pills next to the bottle. My mom could dig her own grave for all I cared. The wrinkles on Mom’s face smoothed out as she beamed. “Your brother has always been smart. If he over-performs tomorrow, I’d be perfectly happy with a top-tier state school.” I smiled along, suppressing the sharp retort that almost slipped out. Hot tip: Scoring an 850 on the SATs does not get you into a top-tier school. 3 Tyler always used to say that Mom had a hard life, and told me I shouldn’t argue with her so much. Heh. He was the sole beneficiary of the system, so naturally, it was easy for him to sound so high and mighty. If Mom stopped favoring him, if her sacrifices suddenly cost him his own privileges, would he still be so magnanimous? After drinking the spiked milk, my brother, predictably, couldn’t wake up. In the morning, Mom paced nervously outside his bedroom door. It was 8:20 AM, and she still couldn’t bear to wake her baby boy. At 8:40 AM, Tyler was finally woken up by his own bladder. Sporting a severe case of bedhead, he stumbled out of his room. “Mom, what time is it?” he mumbled groggily. Mom dipped a mini dumpling in soy sauce and literally carried it all the way to the bathroom for him. “It’s 8:30, honey. Quickly, take a few bites, and then your sister will bike you to the testing center.” To ensure he ate peacefully, Mom deliberately lied, shaving ten minutes off the actual time. I followed right behind her holding a glass of juice. “Yes, exactly! You need a full stomach to have the energy to ace the test. Mom woke up at 5 AM to make these for you. She even hid a lucky silver coin inside one of them so you’d pass with flying colors!” Gag. My brother dry-heaved, his eyes rolling back. “What the hell, are you trying to choke me to death?!” He spat the silver coin aggressively onto the floor, knocking the plate of dumplings out of Mom’s hands. “Look what time it is! Why didn’t you wake me up earlier?!” Mom’s expression instantly morphed into that of a scolded child. “Mom just wanted you to get some good rest…” “Can you use your brain for once instead of just doing whatever pops into your head?!” The more he thought about it, the angrier he got, his words absolutely merciless. He was the only one allowed to speak to her like that. If it had been me, I would have been slapped across the face. “Tyler, Mom was just doing what’s best for you. How can you talk to her like that?” Wow, so this is what it feels like to be a saint. Being generous at someone else’s expense was truly exhilarating. Tyler shot Mom a hateful glare. “Hmph. ‘For my own good.’ If I don’t get into college, are you going to take responsibility for it?!” SLAM. Tyler stormed out of the house. Mom stood there, tears pattering down onto the bathroom floor. 4 The day the scores came out, Tyler held his 850 score report and sighed heavily. You have to hand it to him. He might have been dumb, but he was remarkably consistent. Even with a fresh start in a new life, it was the exact same familiar 850. This time, I was smart. I didn’t sit there eating an apple. Instead, I wore my neat school uniform and sat primly on the couch, my face twisted into an expression of deep, thoughtful sorrow. Snore… snort… In the dead-silent house, Dad’s booming snores from the bedroom felt incredibly jarring. Mom’s explosive anger finally found a landing spot. Taking three steps at a time, she kicked open the master bedroom door and slapped Dad right across the face. “Sleep, sleep, sleep! Is that all you know how to do?! Tyler’s future is ruined, and you can still sleep?!” My dad, Robert, was a safety engineer at a local plant. He had worked the night shift and only gotten home at 6 AM. He hadn’t been asleep long before Mom woke him with a slap. He groggily sat up, a mix of sheer exhaustion and rage twisting his face. “Are you crazy?! What the hell are you screaming about now?!” “You’re the crazy one!” Mom threw the printed score report directly at Dad’s face. “Take a good look! These are Tyler’s SAT scores. An 850! He can’t even get into a community college.” Mom cried as she spoke, grabbing Dad’s collar and pounding her fists against his chest. “Are you done yet?! You lunatic!” Dad forcefully shoved her away. He didn’t use much strength, but Mom used the momentum to throw herself onto the floor, slapping the wood planks as she wailed. “You hit me! I gave you a son, and this is how you treat me?! Oh my god, I was blind to marry you…” In our house, Mom had the highest combat power. I had already tasted the benefits of picking the right side, so if I didn’t jump in now, when would I? “Dad, even though you earn the money, Mom works incredibly hard running this house. You can’t just ignore her sacrifices.” I helped Mom sit up and confronted Dad with absolute, righteous indignation. “Running this house?! Good, fine! Let’s ask your mother exactly how she runs this house.” “In March, she spent $800 on ‘genius focus gummies’ for your brother.” “In April, she spent $2,000 enrolling him in an elite SAT boot camp.” “In May, she spent another $1,500 paying a psychic for a manifesting crystal to guarantee he’d get into a top school.” Dad seemed desperate to vomit out all his built-up bitterness. He couldn’t stop. “Every single cent of my hard-earned blood money was wasted by your mother! I haven’t even started crying yet, but here she is throwing a tantrum!” Hearing this, Mom refused to back down. “Isn’t Tyler your son too?! You’re so stingy about spending a few bucks on your own child, it makes me sick!” They went back and forth, throwing spectacular insults at each other. Meanwhile, I stood to the side, my mind floating in outer space. In my past life, my heart broke for Dad’s exhaustion, Mom’s labor, and my brother’s confusion. But none of that empathy brought me any good; it just made me the family’s eternal scapegoat. In this life, I chose to stay out of it. By refusing to intervene in their karma, the resentment buried deep in their hearts finally found a different outlet. “ENOUGH! Stop arguing! From today on, I’m never spending another dime of your money! I’ll go get a job myself!” Tyler jumped up from the couch in irritation, dropped his dramatic ultimatum, and slammed the front door on his way out. 5 The atmosphere in the house was terrifyingly suffocating. Taking advantage of the fact that my parents were too busy fighting to care about me, I slipped out the door. I had a part-time job as a barista at a coffee shop near my school. It paid a few hundred bucks a month—not much, but it was a safety net. With my brother failing his exams, whether he repeated his senior year or went to a shady private college, it would cost a fortune. Sooner or later, I was highly likely to be forced down the same path of dropping out. In this life, I couldn’t just sit and wait to die. I had to save up enough for my own tuition and living expenses so I could keep studying. “Why is a pretty girl like you working so hard? If you need cash, I can give it to you.” As I was wiping down a table, a clammy hand covered mine. I looked up. It was a guy around twenty years old. He had a bleached-blonde bowl cut, spoke with a raspy fuckboy voice, and was aggressively winking at me. I was naturally very pretty. Back at school, creepy guys always tried to harass me. In my past life, I asked my mom for help. She told me that flies don’t bite seamless eggs. “Why are they targeting you and not anyone else? Seducing men at your age, have you no shame?!” Now, having lived a second life, I decided to protect myself. I kept my right hand completely still while my left hand picked up a half-full cup of iced coffee, ready to splash it right into his flat face. “Little girl, are you thinking about throwing that coffee on me? Friendly warning: this T-shirt cost $300.” The blonde guy looked me up and down. Seeing my cheap thrift-store clothes, he assumed I was an easy target. He smirked confidently, his acne-scarred face leaning in closer. “That’s a good girl…” “Oh… SPLASH.” Before he could finish his sentence, his face was met with two cups of murky brown coffee. One was from me. “Three hundred dollars is a bit steep. Go ahead and call the cops. If they say it’s my fault, I’ll pay you back full price.” The other cup came from a guy sitting at the next table. He had just ordered an espresso and poured the entire thing onto the blonde punk’s head without taking a single sip. My eyes trailed down his rolling Adam’s apple, past his grayish stubble, all the way up to his hair, which was tied into a high ponytail. “Are you blind?! I’m sitting right here looking this gorgeous, and your eyes are glued to this scrawny girl?! You have zero taste!” Terrified, the blonde guy fell backward onto the floor, screamed “Freak!” and scrambled out of the coffee shop as fast as he could. I never expected to meet such a uniquely helpful civilian in our isolated little town. I bowed to the guy. “Thanks a lot, man.” “No problem.” He stared at me, slightly dazed. “I had a younger sister. If she were still here, she’d be about your age.” He explained that his sister was a year younger than him, but she went missing as a toddler. The trauma completely shattered his mother’s mental health, so she frequently coped by dressing him up like a little girl. Kidnappers deserve to rot in hell. For their own selfish greed, they destroy entire families. “Don’t worry,” I comforted him. “Since they stole your sister, they obviously wanted a girl very badly. She’s probably living a great life right now.” The guy nodded, the tight crease between his brows relaxing slightly. “If bad people try to bully you again, try acting completely unhinged.” “There’s no point reasoning with people like that. It’s better to just give them a taste of their own medicine.”

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1 My ex-boyfriend, whom I had desperately loved for years, was throwing a highly publicized engagement party with an avant-garde female director. But playing on the massive screens at their engagement was a five-year-old video of me, crying and begging outside a police station, pleading with him not to abandon me. “Schwartz! I’ll be your secret lover, I don’t care! Just please don’t leave me!” “If you leave me, I’ll die!” The short film was Samantha’s breakout masterpiece. It was a raw, humiliating documentary of my entire pathetic existence as Schwartz’s devoted lapdog. Amidst the disgusting, mocking laughter echoing through the ballroom, a spotlight suddenly snapped onto Samantha’s feet. I was wearing a catering uniform, kneeling on the floor, adjusting the hem of her designer gown. Samantha took the microphone from the host and pointed it right at my face. “Five years later, Stephanie, do you regret being such a shameless, desperate stalker?” I looked at the handsome man standing beside her—Schwartz. I looked right into his eyes and gave my completely honest answer. “I regret it.” Hearing those words, Schwartz, who had always looked at me with pure disgust, suddenly panicked. But I truly didn’t care anymore. Back then, to heal my own broken heart, I had used him as a substitute. Now, my heart was anchored to something much better. He didn’t matter to me anymore. … “Stephanie! Today is my engagement party!” “You sneaked in here just to ruin everything, didn’t you?!” Schwartz violently shoved me backward. “And now you’re trying to act tough?!” “As long as I’m here, you will not ruin Samantha’s special day!” I stumbled backward, the old injury in my knee flaring with sharp pain. My cheap heels flew off my feet, sliding across the marble floor into the crowd. I scrambled barefoot to retrieve them, only for a smirking guest to kick them further away in disgust. “They’re literally getting engaged, and she’s still stalking him! Have some shame!” “Does this bitch have a life outside of chasing men?” “She’s just gold-digging! Schwartz is young, rich, and successful. She’s just too stupid to secure the bag!” Many of Schwartz’s friends at the party had personally witnessed my shameless obsession with him years ago. Back then, Schwartz was the long-lost heir of the prestigious Sterling family, having just been brought back into the fold. As his personal assistant, I pursued him with a manic, suffocating desperation. I drank for him at business dinners until I was hospitalized for stomach bleeding. The very next morning, I ripped out my IV to cook him porridge and deliver it to his office, only for him to hand it directly to the water delivery guy. And I still smiled. He called me at 1 AM saying he hated my long hair. I immediately got out of bed, chopped off the hair I had been growing since childhood, and sent him a video. His response? “Stephanie, are you actually stupid?” “It was a truth-or-dare joke. Did you seriously believe me?” The tipping point was a party with a bunch of trust fund kids. They made a bet on who could eat the most ghost peppers to win a limited-edition necklace. Schwartz casually mentioned he wanted it. I was deathly allergic to peppers, but I ate enough to land myself in the ICU. That day in the ambulance, his voice was gentle for the very first time. “You really like me that much? Enough to throw your life away?” The way his eyes curved when he smiled made me break down in tears under my oxygen mask. “Yes. I can’t live without you. As long as you let me stay by your side, you can have my life.” I finally got my wish. For a year, we dated, and I obeyed him like a loyal dog. Until Samantha released her documentary: The Subservience of a Gold-Digger. It was a year-long compilation of my most pathetic, degrading attempts to beg for his love. The moment the film dropped, Schwartz poured massive funds into marketing it. As the internet ripped me to shreds, Samantha swept every major international documentary award that year. And my reward? A breakup text from Schwartz. “If it wasn’t for Sam, I would have never tolerated your disgusting presence for a whole year.” Samantha was his unattainable high-school sweetheart, the girl he chased before he became a Sterling. The necklace I had almost died to win for him was resting proudly on her collarbone. “Women like you throw yourselves at me because of my bank account,” he told me. “Only Sam is different.” Even then, I refused to let go. I stalked him, crying, begging him not to chase me away. “You can be with someone else! Just let me stay near you, I’ll do anything!” “Please! I’ll die without you!” My hysterical, tear-streaked face from five years ago was currently playing on the massive LED screens, broadcasting my absolute degradation. But today, I simply picked up my shoes, slipped them on, and stood up calmly. “Mr. Sterling, I am a temporary worker hired by the catering company.” “I had no idea this was your engagement party. If I had known, I wouldn’t have taken the shift.” I turned to leave, but Schwartz lunged forward, gripping my arm like a vice. “Five years ago, why did you disappear without a trace?!” “Is that really all you have to say?!” Standing behind him in her haute couture gown, Samantha looked much wealthier than she did five years ago. She tilted her chin at me haughtily. “You vanish for five years, only to conveniently show up on the day Schwartz and I get engaged.” “Stephanie, you used to be a pathetic stalker, but now you’ve learned how to play mind games?” “But since you’re using this ‘coincidence’ to save face, I won’t embarrass you further by calling out your lie in public.” I ignored her completely and looked at Schwartz. “Actually, I do have one thing to say.” “You shoved me and caused me to injure my knee. Mr. Sterling, you need to pay for my medical bills.” 2 Schwartz couldn’t hide the absolute shock on his face. Back in the day, I would have willingly died for him without ever asking for a single dime. The catering manager rushed over, sweating profusely. He threw two hundred-dollar bills directly at my face. “You always act so quiet and innocent! I didn’t know you were this kind of trash!” “You dare ruin Mr. Sterling’s engagement?! Take the cash and get the hell out! You’re fired!” Schwartz’s friends used to love making me the butt of the joke, asking me how much money it would take for me to leave him. Every time, I would panic and swear I didn’t want a single cent, just the privilege of staying by his side. But today, I bent down, picked up the two crumpled bills, and turned to walk away without a second of hesitation. The crowd erupted in fresh mockery, but Schwartz frowned deeply. His grip on my arm tightened. “Stephanie! If you push this act too far, you won’t have a way back!” “Are you seriously telling me you came here just for a couple of bucks?!” Five years later, I could finally look him dead in the eye without flinching. “What else? Why else would I work a minimum-wage job if not for money?” He scoffed, his tone dripping with arrogance. “You’re not still delusional enough to think I have ‘lingering feelings’ for you, are you?” “Pathetic.” I yanked my arm out of his grasp. Kindergarten was letting out soon. I needed to pick up my son. My son, Leo, was four years old. He was a sturdy, bright-eyed little boy. The second he saw me at the gate, he peeled a gold star sticker off his shirt and pressed it onto my forehead. “Mommy works so hard! Here is your reward!” Even though he was only four, the gentle cadence of his voice and the way his eyes curved when he smiled were identical to his father’s. I breathed in the scent of his hair, and all the dark clouds from the afternoon instantly evaporated. I kissed his chubby cheek. “Leo and Mommy both worked very hard today!” I pulled the two hundred-dollar bills out of my pocket. “Let’s go buy a little cake, okay?” “Does Leo remember what special day it is today?” His little hands shot straight up into the air. “It’s Daddy’s birthday!” … I had graduated with a finance degree from a top-tier university, but the documentary scandal completely destroyed my career. When I left Schwartz, I was treated like a diseased rat. I had to bounce between cash-in-hand odd jobs just to raise my son. I had pre-ordered a small, four-inch cake that morning. The design was simple, with the words Miss You written in icing. Leo was proudly carrying the little cake box as we walked out of the bakery. Suddenly, someone violently bumped into him. The cake hit the pavement, smashing into a ruined mess. Ignoring my son entirely, Schwartz grabbed my arm again. “You think you can just disgust everyone and walk away?!” “You are coming with me to apologize to Sam right now!” “Stephanie, you want to play hard to get with me? Do you even have the right?!” In the past, whenever I got “jealous” and forgot my place, I would try to give Schwartz the silent treatment. But it never lasted more than an hour before I came crawling back, begging him not to ignore me. Because I used to be so unconditionally submissive, Schwartz simply couldn’t comprehend that my “tantrum” today ended with me actually walking away. That’s why he tracked me down. “Mr. Sterling! Today is your engagement party. You abandoned your fiancée to chase after me? If you need a psychiatric evaluation, go to a hospital, don’t come here to disgust me!” Seeing me being bullied, Leo lowered his head and headbutted Schwartz’s leg. “Let go of my Mommy! You big bully!” My tiny, four-year-old son spread his arms wide, standing between me and the towering billionaire. “You broke my Daddy’s cake! And you’re being mean to Mommy!” “Apologize to my Mommy right now!” Seeing my son’s brave little face made my heart skip a beat. For a split second, I saw him again. But reality snapped me back. I didn’t want Leo dragged into this mess. I scooped him into my arms and turned to walk away quickly. “Stephanie! You actually got married and had a kid?!” Schwartz’s voice actually held a tremor of panic. “How could you?! How dare you?!” His possessive outrage left me completely baffled. In the past, he used to scream at me in disgust: “There are billions of men on this planet! If you want to get married and breed so badly, go drag a homeless guy off the street! Why the hell are you stalking me?!” Now that I had finally stopped stalking him, he was losing his mind. “Yes, Mr. Sterling. The law doesn’t forbid me from getting married and having a child.” “And it certainly doesn’t require me to stay celibate for you!” I barely took two steps before I collided head-on with Samantha, who had just rushed over. She was breathing heavily, a thin layer of sweat ruining her perfect makeup. “Stephanie! You ruined my engagement party! Are you happy now?!” The sudden shouting match in the middle of the street quickly drew a massive crowd. Videos of the chaos at the engagement party were already trending online. People in the crowd started recognizing me. “Isn’t that the crazy stalker from five years ago? She crashed the engagement and she’s still stalking him?!” “Why is she holding a kid? She has a kid and she’s still acting like a psycho?! Let me guess, it’s a bastard child!” When Samantha’s eyes locked onto the boy in my arms, her brow furrowed fiercely. Alarm bells practically rang in her eyes as she muttered under her breath. “That’s impossible…” Leo was still upset about the cake for his dad. He squirmed out of my arms and reached toward the ground. “Don’t step on my Daddy’s cake!” As he tried to salvage the crushed box from near Samantha’s feet, his little hand accidentally brushed against the hem of her dress. Samantha shrieked dramatically. “Why are you grabbing my dress?!” The massive bodyguard standing behind her surged forward and delivered a brutal, open-handed slap right across Leo’s face. “You little bastard! Getting handsy at your age?!” The force of the blow knocked Leo flat onto the pavement. Half of his soft, delicate face instantly swelled into an angry red welt. 3 My maternal instincts kicked in violently. I lunged forward to tear that man apart, but another bodyguard instantly pinned my arms behind my back. The crowd’s toxic whispering buzzed in my ears. “What kind of child did you expect a mother like that to raise?” “The mom is a gold-digging whore, and the kid is already a little pervert! He’s gonna grow up to be human garbage!” “That little brat needs to be taught a lesson! Pull his pants down! Let him learn what public humiliation feels like!” Eager to impress Samantha, the bodyguard actually reached down, fully intending to strip my four-year-old son in the middle of the street. He was only a baby. Faced with a giant, violent man, Leo broke down into terrified, hysterical sobs. Every single cry felt like a jagged knife carving into my heart. “Let go of my son!” “I didn’t try to ruin your engagement! You two are the ones chasing me down the street like maniacs!” “Schwartz! What the hell is wrong with you?!” Schwartz ignored my screaming. He walked over to Leo. When he finally got a clear look at the boy’s face, he froze dead in his tracks. It was a face that shared a sixty percent resemblance to his own. Suddenly, Schwartz started laughing. It was a laugh dripping with absolute, triumphant arrogance. “I was wondering why you suddenly vanished five years ago. Turns out, you snuck off to secretly have my baby.” The crowd immediately started murmuring, craning their necks to get a better look. My son, whom I had protected so fiercely for four years, was being gawked at like an animal in a zoo. “He really does look like Mr. Sterling!” “She couldn’t trap the man, so she stole his sperm and had a baby in secret! This bitch is actually psychotic!” “She’s probably trying to extort him! Crashing his engagement on purpose so he ‘discovers’ his bastard son! What a shameless homewrecker!” But Samantha denied it almost instantly, her voice bordering on frantic. “Impossible!” She glared at me with pure venom. “How could you possibly give birth to Schwartz’s child?!” It was true that I had gotten pregnant with Schwartz’s child once. But Samantha had personally ensured that pregnancy didn’t survive. I bit down savagely on the bodyguard’s hand, using every ounce of my adrenaline to break free. I threw myself over Leo, pulling him tight against my chest. I glared at Schwartz, my voice made of ice. “He is my son!” “Schwartz! I don’t care what kind of mental breakdown you’re having right now! If you touch my son, I will kill you myself!” Seeing my fury, Schwartz’s smile only grew wider. He looked like a man who held all the winning cards. He tapped the crushed cake box with the toe of his expensive leather shoe. He read the smeared Miss You written in the frosting. “If I remember correctly, today’s date is the exact anniversary of the day we first met.” “Stephanie, who else could you possibly be missing besides me?” He crouched down, using a sickeningly gentle voice to speak to Leo. “Where is your Daddy?” Before I could stop him, Schwartz threatened that if Leo didn’t answer, he would have me arrested. My brave little boy’s eyes welled with tears, but he answered. “My Daddy is dead…” “But I’m a big boy now! I’m here! You can’t bully my Mommy!” I wasn’t going to give them another second to traumatize my child. I pulled out my phone and dialed 911. “Let us leave!” “Schwartz! You really want to spend the night of your engagement in a police precinct?!” Remembering a news broadcast I had seen a few days ago, I raised the stakes. “You’re currently in the middle of a critical transition to take over the Sterling Group, aren’t you? If a scandal like this breaks, aren’t you afraid your stock will tank? Aren’t you afraid the board of directors will hold you accountable?!” The crowd hurled insults at me. “She’s the mistress and she’s acting like the victim!” “Threatening him with his own company?! She’s insane!” But Schwartz looked at me like he had completely figured me out. He actually looked pleased. “Must have been hard, constantly tracking my corporate news.” “Fine! Let’s see how long you can keep this stubborn act up!” He signaled the bodyguards to step aside, flashing me a calculated, gentle smile. “You can walk away. But think very carefully. If you walk away now, you will never get the chance to see me again.” In the past, I would have paid any price just to see him smile like that. But today, I didn’t need it. I carried my son in my arms and walked away without looking back once. Behind me, I heard Schwartz’s voice crack with genuine shock. “Stephanie! Where are you going?!” “If you walk away today, don’t ever expect me to acknowledge the child you gave birth to!” His stare burned into my back, trying to read my mind. He saw my footsteps pause. But before his lips could even curl into a triumphant smirk, he saw me break into a full sprint away from him. Watching my silhouette disappear down the street, Schwartz instinctively took a step forward to chase me, but Samantha grabbed his arm tight. “Everyone is watching. She’s doing this on purpose.” “Relax. Today proves that she went through all this effort just to stop you from getting engaged to me.” “As long as you hold your ground, she’ll definitely find another excuse to come crawling back to you.” When I got back to my tiny apartment, I immediately started packing our bags. I had specifically chosen this quiet southern town because it was a safe, healthy environment to raise a child. I never imagined Schwartz would choose to host his destination engagement party here. I owed Schwartz absolutely nothing. It was true that I had used him as a substitute to cope with my own devastating heartbreak. But while we were together, I had given him every ounce of my devotion. I never hurt him. Not once. He, on the other hand, only used me as a stepping stone to build Samantha’s fame. My initial intentions may have been “impure,” but considering the horrific trauma I endured because of him, Schwartz and I were completely even. 4 Leo was poking at his little smartwatch, his mouth turned down in a miserable pout. “Mommy, the kids at school are calling me a bastard. They said they’re never going to play with me again…” In just a few hours, the internet had exploded. Samantha, whose career had completely stalled over the last two years, was suddenly dominating the trending charts again. Millions of people were romanticizing the “turbulent journey” of her and Schwartz’s love story, while viciously attacking my lack of shame. The manager at my catering job had officially fired me in the staff group chat. My phone was vibrating endlessly with messages from former coworkers, gossip bloggers, and even Leo’s preschool teachers. The peaceful life I had spent five gruelling years building was incinerated in an afternoon. Schwartz was forcing me to bow my head. I knew perfectly well that a “peasant” like me couldn’t fight the Sterling Group. To avoid any more nightmares, I bought two bus tickets out of the state for that very evening. But the moment Leo went to the station restroom, he vanished. The security footage showed me waiting outside the door. A man in a black suit had walked in carrying a massive, empty hard-shell suitcase. When he walked out, the suitcase was visibly heavier. I was just dialing 911 when my phone buzzed. It was a photo of Leo, fast asleep in the backseat of a luxury car. [I brought our son back to the Sterling estate. If you want to see him, come yourself.] [If you call the cops, I guarantee you will never see your son again for the rest of your life.] The next photo was a forged DNA test, showing a 99.9% probability of paternity between Schwartz and Leo. The Sterling family’s roots ran deep and corrupt. Even if I called the cops, with that fake DNA test in his hand, I probably wouldn’t get my son back. Standing in front of Schwartz’s sprawling mansion felt like returning to a past life. Through the massive floor-to-ceiling bulletproof windows, I saw Leo sitting alone on the living room floor, his eyes swollen shut from crying. He saw me, jumped up, and ran toward the glass, only to be effortlessly scooped up by a bodyguard and carried back to the center of the room. He tried over and over again. Even through the thick glass, I could hear him screaming for his mommy. A heavy, matte-black camera lens was suddenly shoved into my face. A bodyguard stared at me with dead eyes. “You gave birth to the Sterling heir in secret. Your intentions are malicious.” “Mr. Sterling said that if you want to see the child, you must publicly confess to your disgusting schemes.” “Be a good girl and provide the footage Miss Samantha needs for her new documentary.” He was actually using this despicable extortion tactic to force me to be the stepping stone for Samantha’s career again! I ground my teeth together so hard my jaw ached. “Tell Schwartz to get out here!” The bodyguard ignored me completely. I picked up the heavy metal tripod sitting next to the camera and smashed it directly into the mansion’s front doors. Schwartz thought he had me backed into a corner. But he vastly underestimated what Leo meant to me. If anyone dared to touch that boy, I would burn this entire city to the ground, even if it cost me my life. The camera equipment shattered into pieces. As the bodyguards surged forward to subdue me, I reached into my coat and pulled out a heavy pair of fabric shears. “Who wants to go first?!” A mother pushed to the brink of insanity is more terrifying than a wild animal. For a moment, the wall of muscle hesitated. I used that split second to sprint through the doors and scoop up Leo, who had cried himself into a state of semi-consciousness. Just then, a group of trust fund kids sauntered down from the second floor, flanking Schwartz. “Schwartz, your charm is seriously lethal. This crazy bitch couldn’t have you, so she actually risked her life just to secure your bloodline.” “Did we get enough footage of her mental breakdown?” Schwartz was holding a compact camcorder. He had recorded my entire desperate display from the indoor balcony. He snapped the screen shut, looking incredibly satisfied. “Stephanie, when I found out you had a kid, I thought you had finally grown a spine.” “I didn’t expect your obsession with me to transfer to the kid. You really bet your entire life on a child just because he has my blood.” His tone was dripping with arrogant charity, as if he were a god granting a peasant a pardon. “I never believed anyone could actually be as pathetically devoted as you.” “But your absolute stupidity and your sheer stubbornness… it actually moved me.” “As long as you cooperate with Sam and film the sequel to The Subservience of a Gold-Digger, I will allow you and the child to stay by my side forever.” “I obviously can’t give you a title or marry you, but I’ll set you up in a nice house. I’ll give you the life you’ve spent years dreaming about. I am finally giving you permission to love me.” The sycophants surrounding him erupted in cheers and catcalls. “Is she crying from happiness?!” “She’s probably too shocked to speak!” I covered Leo’s ears with my hands. In front of the entire crowd of elites, I gathered the saliva in my mouth and spat directly into Schwartz’s face. “Schwartz! Wake the hell up from your delusion!” “Stop acting like a narcissistic psychopath! It’s sickening!” It was the first time I had ever spoken to him with such pure, unadulterated venom. Schwartz’s face froze in absolute shock. He didn’t even have time to wipe the spit off his cheek before I delivered the final blow. “Open your ears and listen to me very carefully! This child is not yours!” “And I have never, ever loved you!” Schwartz looked like he had been struck by lightning. His voice cracked with disbelief. “Impossible! Leo is a carbon copy of me! How could he not be my son?!” “Stephanie! If you’re claiming I’m not the father, then tell me! Who the hell is?!” Watching his chest heave with panicked breaths, I opened my mouth and revealed the secret of my five-year disappearance.

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I am a pureblood human, adopted by a family of vampire nobles. I thought I was destined to become their walking, breathing blood bank. Who knew the Duke and Duchess were obsessively doting parents, and my newly minted adopted brother would be head over heels for me? Overnight, I reached the absolute peak of my life. 1. Humans and vampires had been at war for over two hundred years before finally signing a truce. To show their sincerity, the human leaders decided to send someone over to be adopted by the Vampire Duke’s family. And the unlucky bastard chosen for the job was me. During the two centuries of war against vampires, humanity had genetically modified and evolved themselves to survive. I, however, was one of the very few remaining “pureblood” humans. As a pureblood, I couldn’t fight my way out of a paper bag. My combat power was a flat zero. In the old days, I would have been considered utterly useless. Nowadays? With a twist of fate, I was treated like a rare, endangered mascot. I had no right to refuse. I was packed up overnight and shipped off to the castle of Duke Dracula. Before I left, a kindly-looking old government official patted my shoulder with a smile. “Kid, you’ve seen spy movies, right? We don’t need you to do anything crazy. Just observe them and see if they actually intend to keep the truce.” I focused my mind and instantly heard his inner thoughts. [The girl is definitely pretty, but she doesn’t look too bright. I really hope she doesn’t mess this up.] I sneered internally. Surprise, old man. I might be a weak, delicate pureblood human, but I had my own cheat code—telepathy. Otherwise, going into vampire territory completely alone would be no different from throwing a sheep into a wolf’s den. 2. I finally met the Duke’s family. It was nothing like the creepy human folk songs from two hundred years ago. The Dracula Castle wasn’t dark or desolate at all; it was lavish, opulent, and brilliantly lit. The butler wasn’t a talking pig, there were no fat witches riding broomsticks, and no creepy black cats smiling from the shadows. I have to admit, the vampire race was blessed with absurdly good genes. They were breathtaking. The Duke was noble and handsome, and the Duchess was stunningly beautiful. Their only son, Wyatt, was exceptionally striking. He had deep, dark eyes, pale marble skin, and blood-red lips. Despite having such vivid, intense features, his overall aura was incredibly cold and untouchable. They threw a massive welcome banquet in my honor. At the party, the Duke proudly announced my adoption, officially declaring me the very first Human Princess of the vampire race. The entire banquet was livestreamed, instantly blowing up the internet and trending worldwide. Before coming here, I was terrified I’d just be a walking blood bank for the Dracula family. So, when they invited me to sit down for dinner, I was trembling like a leaf. The Duchess’s eyes sparkled as she smiled warmly. “Don’t be afraid, sweetheart. The noble House of Dracula gave up drinking human blood a long time ago. Besides, you are my daughter now.” [She’s so cute! A cute little human like this… I could kiss ten of her to death!] Me: ??? The Duke patiently comforted me. “Rest assured, darling, we will never hurt you.” His dark green eyes shimmered as he gazed at me with overwhelming tenderness. [She seems to lack a sense of security. Should I go kidnap a few more humans to keep her company? Wyatt won’t do; he walks around with a deadpan face all day, he’s too boring.] [Come to think of it, I haven’t raised a child in centuries. What do kids even like these days? Whatever my baby wants, I’ll buy it for her.] I was completely blown away by the wind. So, the legendary, ruthless, and bloodthirsty Duke and Duchess… were actually obsessive, doting parents?! When it was time to take our seats, I chose to sit next to Wyatt. At least my new brother seemed a bit more like a “normal” person. He remained entirely expressionless and indifferent to me sitting so close. His brows were slightly furrowed, and he didn’t say a single word. He looked the definition of aloof. I hesitated for a second, then gently tugged at his sleeve and gave him a friendly smile. “Brother.” To my shock, Wyatt reacted violently. He stood up abruptly, shaking off my hand. “Let go!” I was so startled I almost cried. A flash of regret crossed Wyatt’s eyes. [Is my sister going to cry? Damn it, I didn’t mean to do that.] [Her eyes are so pretty. Red and misty, like a fragile little bunny.] [She smells so incredibly good.] [No, I have to restrain myself. I can’t scare her.] As his inner thoughts popped into my head one after another, the corners of his eyes flushed pink, and a faint blush spread across his cold, pale cheeks. Meanwhile, my own face grew paler and paler. Help me! What kind of bizarre family had I just walked into?! 3. The dinner ended with Wyatt leaving the table early, and the Duke and Duchess showering me with endless comfort. That night, I lay in the gorgeous princess room the Duchess had prepared for me, tossing and turning. Unable to sleep, I eventually got up, planning to sneak down to the kitchen for a midnight snack. The moment I stepped out into the hallway, a hand shot out and violently yanked me into the adjacent room. My dear brother pinned me against the wall. His hair was damp with sweat, his face heavily flushed, and his dark eyes were misty, staring down at me with an intense, heated gaze. He looked… like a delicious, molten chocolate lava cake. I gulped uselessly. “Brother, what’s wrong? Are you sick?” He buried his face in the crook of my neck. His heavy breathing brushed against my skin, sending a tingling numbness down my spine. When he spoke, his tone was still fierce and cold: “Shut up.” [What do I do? I love my sister too much.] Well, then… After the mental bombardment at dinner, I was already immune to this. Was my brother’s inner monologue just permanently set to “embarrassingly affectionate”? The contrast between his outward behavior and his inner thoughts was way too extreme. Classic case of a guy whose mouth says no, but whose body says yes. Certain that he had no intention of hurting me, my anxiety dropped by half. I obediently acted as a human body pillow, staying perfectly still and letting him hold me. As a result, my brain was flooded with his thoughts, scrolling like a live chat feed. [Am I holding her for too long? Is this a bit weird?] [But it’s just so hard to push her away…] [House Dracula gave up human blood ages ago. Why am I feeling like this…] Suddenly, I felt something sharp pressing against the side of my neck. It felt like two conflicting emotions—restraint and aggression—were fighting a war inside him. I suddenly realized what it was. Those were the sharp fangs of a vampire. Instantly, my blood ran cold. [She is… so intoxicating.] [She seems to be shivering. Is it because she’s scared?] [Enough, Wyatt. Stop it right now!] Wyatt finally let go of me. I breathed a massive sigh of relief. The very next second, with a wave of his hand, I was swept right out the door. Bang! The door slammed shut behind me. I felt like I had literally taken flight, landing dizzily back in the hallway. My head was spinning. Once I calmed down, I analyzed the situation. Even though his confusing actions were rude and impatient, I was completely unharmed. He probably… wouldn’t hurt me, right? 4. The next morning, I went downstairs. The Duke and Duchess weren’t around, and neither was Wyatt. The butler approached me with a polite, professional smile. “Princess, the Duke and Duchess are still resting. They instructed me to have you eat breakfast first, and then Prince Wyatt will take you to school.” I looked at the butler’s warm smile, nodded gently, and pretended I couldn’t hear his inner monologue. [What on earth is the Duke thinking? Prince Wyatt can hardly be described as friendly toward the Princess.] The maids brought out over a dozen different American-style breakfast dishes. Pancakes, crispy bacon, scrambled eggs, golden hash browns, avocado toast, and blueberry muffins… they had everything. I was amazed. These were the kinds of real, traditional foods I had only read about in the human historical archives. Ever since humans underwent genetic evolution and became obsessed with strength, nobody cared about actual food anymore. Most humans survived on nutrient paste just to maintain bodily functions. Only aristocrats cooked real meals daily as a symbol of their wealth and status. Back home, I obviously wasn’t qualified to eat stuff like this. But I was a pureblood human. That disgusting nutrient paste tasted like literal poison to me. Sitting at the table, I finally felt a genuine sense of gratitude that my fate had changed. Just as I was aggressively stuffing my face with a blueberry muffin, Wyatt slowly walked down the stairs wearing his school uniform. I took one look at him and almost burst out laughing. The uniform was tailored to perfection, crisp and sharp, giving him the ultimate aura of a noble aristocratic heir… Assuming, of course, you ignored the weird mask strapped to his face. I bit my lip to hold back my laughter and stole another two glances at him. His eyes and brows were still beautiful, but the thing covering his mouth… was that seriously not a dog’s anti-bite muzzle? Right then, I heard Wyatt’s inner voice. [Does this anti-bite mask look weird?] [But this is already the coolest-looking one they had!] [Why does my sister keep staring at me?] [She looks like… she really wants to laugh?] I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I let out a loud snort of laughter. Good lord, it actually was an anti-bite muzzle. 5. Because of my untimely laughter, Wyatt was as cold as a block of ice for the entire car ride to school, refusing to give me a single pleasant look. But I wasn’t afraid of him at all anymore. He was so scared of losing control and hurting me that he voluntarily strapped an ugly, bizarre muzzle to his own face. Wyatt was exactly like a hedgehog. His back was covered in sharp spikes, but if you flipped him over, his belly was soft, white, and completely harmless. I could feel the gentle warmth hiding beneath his icy exterior. The butler, perhaps afraid we might actually fight, rode in the car with us. Throughout the ride, I relied entirely on the butler to educate me on everything I needed to know. “St. Jude’s Academy is the most elite aristocratic school in the vampire community. The students are all sons and daughters of high-ranking officials and nobles. However, Your Highness, you outrank them all.” The highest leader of the vampire race was the Duke; they had no king or queen. That was why the butler said I was the most prestigious student there. “There are magical wards placed over the campus. All vampire abilities are neutralized on school grounds, so you don’t need to worry about them using powers to hurt you.” Thanks to the butler’s enthusiastic and detailed introduction, I learned everything I needed to know. St. Jude’s was a comprehensive academy combining middle school, high school, and university. It had produced countless top-tier geniuses across every industry in vampire society. Before I was sent here, I was a freshman at a human art college. I just had to continue my major here. I had heard that St. Jude’s had produced historically famous artists. Getting to study here was definitely me marrying up in life. Wyatt was in the medical school. He was their top genius student and was close to graduating. Thinking about this, I glanced over at him. My eyes naturally fell to the hands resting lightly on his lap. Pale, slender, with distinct knuckles. Hands that pretty were definitely suited for holding a scalpel. Sensing my gaze, Wyatt’s expression grew even colder, and he turned his head to stare out the window. But his fingers unconsciously curled into fists. [Damn it, why did Merlin have to bring me up?] [Will my sister think I told him to brag about me on purpose?] Help me. I wanted to laugh again. 6. Once we arrived at the school, Wyatt gave me a haughty, icy warning: “Behave yourself. Don’t cause trouble!” [I already warned all the old geezers on the board. She shouldn’t run into any trouble, right?] I flashed him a brilliant, sweet smile. “Okay, brother.” Wyatt frantically averted his eyes. His pale, jade-like earlobes flushed crimson. He turned around with a blank face and practically fled the scene. [My sister is… s-so cute.] The butler smiled and handed me my backpack. “You can head in now, Your Highness. I can only escort you this far.” I tilted my head, my eyes curving into happy crescents. “Thank you, Uncle Merlin.” The butler’s eyes lit up. “Just Merlin is perfectly fine, Your Highness.” [No wonder the Duke and Duchess adore Her Highness so much. What a good kid.] I grabbed my bag and walked onto campus. Every step I took resulted in a 100% head-turning rate. I could hear their inner thoughts constantly. [Oh my god, is that a human?] [Is that Princess Chloe? I watched the livestream, she really looks like that!] [Does someone like her really deserve to be Prince Wyatt’s sister?] … For a moment, it felt like tens of thousands of flies were buzzing in my ears. I couldn’t take it anymore, so I mentally blocked out their voices. My telepathy was controllable, like a switch. If I didn’t want to hear someone’s thoughts, I could just turn it off. Otherwise, I would have been driven insane a long time ago. The principal personally welcomed me, escorted me to my classroom, gave me a few words of advice, and left. With a polite smile, I introduced myself to the class. “My name is Chloe, I’m 19, and I live at the Dracula Castle.” A sneer echoed from the crowd. A blonde, blue-eyed girl stood up, looking at me with pure disdain. “Are all human women as ugly as you?” 7. The classroom went dead silent for a second. Then, the entire room erupted in mocking laughter. Everyone stared at me with varying degrees of ridicule, coldness, or contempt. Vampires, male or female, were naturally pale, gorgeous, with long legs. It was their racial trait. But I wasn’t exactly bad-looking either. I had classic almond eyes, big and round. Even if I couldn’t compare to their supernatural, physics-defying beauty, I hardly deserved to be called ugly, right? I gritted my teeth. I endured it. This was vampire territory. Why would they ever submit to a fake human princess? I had anticipated this kind of reception before I even arrived and mentally prepared myself for it. Sticking to my “don’t cause trouble” principle, I just smiled and didn’t say a word. But the blonde girl wasn’t going to let me off the hook. She walked right up to me and yanked my hair. “Hey, ugly freak. Roll back to your human territory, or sooner or later, I’ll suck your blood dry!” Screw this. I can’t take it anymore. I threw down with her. We brawled until the teacher rushed in and pulled us apart. Just like in human schools, fighting meant they had to call your parents. And my “parent”… was Wyatt. The teacher didn’t dare disturb the Duke and Duchess, so they called Wyatt over. I stood in front of him, hair a messy bird’s nest, hanging my head in shame. He had just warned me not to cause trouble, and five minutes later, I was fist-fighting a classmate. Why couldn’t I just hold it in?! Wyatt furrowed his brows deeply, his dark eyes scanning me up and down. He turned to the teacher, his voice chilling to the bone: “What exactly happened here?” I really couldn’t grasp his actual mood. So, I sneakily turned on my cheat code to hear his thoughts. [Is the Sinclair family tired of living?! Turning my cute, pretty sister into a scruffy little mud pie!] I had been feeling pretty wronged and upset a second ago.

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1 I worked online as an anonymous relationship coach, untangling other people’s messy love lives. Yet I was the one trapped in a suffocating marriage. Vaughn came home on time every single day. He ate dinner across the table from me, and he kissed my forehead before bed. He bought extravagant bouquets for holidays, wired generous amounts of money to my account, and even remembered my parents’ birthdays. On paper, he was the flawless husband. But when I told him I was hurting, he turned a deaf ear. When I said I was exhausted, he simply told me that everyone gets tired. When I asked if he loved me. He gave a detached reply, “Don’t make life so exhausting.” But the most exhausting part of my life was trying so desperately to get close to him, only to realize that even humoring me felt like a chore to him. So I stopped asking. And he seemed perfectly content with the silence. Tonight, a new consultation popped up on my screen. A young woman asked, “I messed up a long time ago, and he married some fat girl just to spite me. Now he still says he loves me. Should I steal him back?” I was just about to type a professional reply when she sent a photo. A man was looking down, gently wrapping a cashmere scarf around her neck. Resting on his wrist was the luxury watch I had painstakingly hunted down for his birthday last year. The man she wanted to steal back was my husband. … I stared at that photo for a very long time. His cuff was pulled back just enough to reveal the dial. Last year, I visited three different boutiques and called over a dozen friends just to track that exact model down. [Hey, do you think he still has feelings for me?] My fingers hovered over the keyboard. They felt stiff, frozen in place, before I finally managed to type a response. [What was your relationship with him?] Her reply came almost instantly. [We dated in college!] [But he’s way too proud. I made him mad back then, so he just grabbed the resident campus whale who had a crush on him and married her as payback. I regret it so much!] It felt like someone had driven a fist straight through my chest. The girl kept typing. [I know he doesn’t actually love her. He was just throwing a tantrum and found a cheap substitute who could never compare to me.] [You’re a relationship expert. You get how guys like that work, right?] I was used to analyzing other people’s heartbreaks. I never expected the arrow to strike my own chest. In a daze, my mind drifted back to a time many years ago. When I first started college, I had to take heavy steroid medications for an illness. The side effect was massive weight gain. I had worked hard to get into a top-tier university, but the only thing I heard in the lecture halls was mocking laughter. Someone snapped a picture of my lunch tray and posted it in the class group chat. [Porky’s got a hollow leg! Incredible!] Someone else taped a sticky note to my chair. [Weight limit warning. No whales allowed.] Another guy even walked up to me with a smirk and asked, “Hey Jill, do you walk on all fours in private? Can you really put away half a barrel of slop in one sitting?” They knocked my pill bottles onto the floor just for a laugh. I didn’t dare to cry. Crying would only make me look uglier. Vaughn wasn’t the typical heroic, sunshine-filled boy who stood up for the weak. He was always cold, aloof, separated from the rest of the world by an invisible layer of frost. But that day, he bent down, picked up my medicine bottle, and handed it to me. Then he looked at the crowd. “If I see this again, every single one of you will be facing the disciplinary board.” “Come on, Vaughn. Why do you even care about her?” He raised his eyes, his gaze freezing the room. “Verbal harassment goes straight on your academic record. Want to test that theory?” No one dared to bully me in the open after that. I carried the memory of that day with me for years. So when Vaughn called me late one night, long after graduation, I listened to his heavy silence before he finally spoke. “If you’re still single… would you marry me?” There was no diamond ring. There was no romantic proposal. I didn’t even ask him why. “I will.” At ten o’clock that night, Vaughn walked through the front door. He took off his overcoat and asked the same question he always did. “Why are you still awake?” He walked into the kitchen and poured me a glass of warm water. “Remember your follow-up appointment at the hospital tomorrow. Don’t skip your meds. Your health comes first.” He was always like this. Perfectly decent. Perfectly thorough. Even his affection felt meticulously calculated. I looked at him and suddenly asked, “Why did you marry me?” He turned his back to me, flipping through a stack of documents on the counter. “The past doesn’t matter.” A thin wire of tension pulled tight across my heart. “Does it have anything to do with Serena?” This time, he didn’t answer immediately. After a long pause, he simply said, “It’s late. Go to sleep.” Silence can be deafening. A moment later, my phone buzzed on the table. [He skipped work today and spent the whole day shopping with me. It feels exactly like when we were dating in college!] I thought about the text I had sent Vaughn earlier that afternoon. I had taken a picture of the new bakery downstairs, asking if he wanted to try it together tonight. He didn’t reply until he was off the clock. Just one word. “Busy.” I put my phone face down and headed toward the bathroom to wash up. As I passed the balcony, I heard Vaughn’s hushed voice. “Don’t cry. I’ll be right there.” He hung up the phone. When he turned around and saw me standing there, his expression stiffened for a fraction of a second. “Emergency at the company.” I stared at him. For some reason, I desperately wanted to fight for him just this once. I wanted to know if, just for a single moment, he would choose me over Serena. I gripped the edge of the sofa, letting my voice soften. “I really don’t feel well.” “My heart is racing, and my head is pounding. Can you please stay?” He walked straight to the cabinet, pulled out the medical kit, and placed it on the coffee table in front of me. “Check and see what you need to take.” “Get some rest after you take your pills. Don’t let your imagination run wild.” With that, he picked up his coat. The sound of the front door clicking shut was incredibly soft, yet it felt like a brick wall collapsing on top of me. I sat on the couch, the medical kit resting by my knees. The pill bottles inside were arranged in perfect, sterile compartments. Just like the marriage he gave me. I had quietly challenged her to a match, and I had lost completely. 2 I started suffering from severe insomnia after that night. My head was crammed with alternating voices. I had studied psychology in college. I knew exactly what happens to a person when their mind is repeatedly punctured by severe emotional trauma. I just didn’t want to admit it. Admitting a relapse meant admitting that this marriage was dragging me back into the abyss. Early the next morning, I booked an appointment with my psychiatrist. Vaughn stepped out of his study. “Where are you going?” “Follow-up appointment.” He checked the schedule on his phone. “I’ll go with you.” The withered leaves in my heart felt a sudden, desperate drop of rain. But right as we reached the door, his phone rang. He spoke a few words, and his posture immediately grew tense. “Don’t go outside. Send me your room number.” He hung up and looked at me. “Serena got cornered by a stalker at her hotel. She’s terrified to leave the room.” My throat tightened. “Can you not…” “It’s just a routine checkup. I’ll have my assistant drive you.” “But if I don’t go to her, something terrible might actually happen.” Those words cut deeper than any insult. He casually placed me in second place. Again. In the end, his assistant was the one who accompanied me to the hospital. Sitting in the backseat, watching the city streets blur past the window, I suddenly felt like a piece of mishandled luggage being shipped to temporary storage. I waited in line alone. I filled out the diagnostic scales alone. By the end of it, all I felt was a bitter sense of irony. I was an expert at telling other women when to cut their losses, yet I had allowed myself to be drained dry. “You are showing clear signs of a severe Bipolar relapse. You cannot afford any more emotional triggers right now. We need to adjust your medication. I strongly suggest your family keep a closer eye on you.” The moment the doctor handed me the new prescription, a message from Serena popped up on my screen. [He canceled his plans with his wife today just for me.] [Tell me, is this what true love looks like?] I walked out of the hospital and crouched by the curb, trying to swallow down the suffocating wave of panic. The sun was beating down on my head, but I was shivering uncontrollably. I took one step onto the street, and an electric bike swerved past me, the handlebars clipping my shoulder. “Do you have a death wish?!” The rider slammed on his brakes and turned back to scream at me. “Watch where you’re walking, you crazy bitch!” I fell onto the concrete. My first instinct wasn’t to cry, but to scramble for my scattered prescription papers, as if they were the last shred of dignity I possessed. When the nurse cleaned my scraped arm back inside the clinic, the stinging pain made my fingers curl inward. My mind drifted back to the first year of my marriage. My mother came to visit our new house, dragging bags full of fresh groceries, insisting that takeout was toxic. Vaughn stood in the doorway of the kitchen, watching her roll out homemade pasta dough. “Do you need any help?” He had no idea what he was doing. The ravioli he folded were misshapen and lumpy. My mother laughed until she couldn’t breathe, picking out the best-looking one and putting it on his plate. “For your first try, Vaughn, that’s practically a masterpiece.” He looked down, ate the ravioli, and the tips of his ears turned slightly red. The night my father drank too much, Vaughn practically carried the older man to the guest room, leaving a glass of warm water and antacids right on the nightstand. My mother had pulled me aside later, whispering. “Jill, I know Vaughn seems cold on the outside, but he pays attention to the details. Give him time. You’ll build a good life together.” I used to believe that, too. I thought he wasn’t heartless, just slow to warm up. I believed that if I just waited a little longer, he would eventually turn around and look at me. But now, my hands were covered in blood, strangers were screaming at me on the street, and the man I married was playing the knight in shining armor for someone else. That evening, Vaughn came home on time as usual. He walked through the door just as I was changing my bandages. I hadn’t wrapped the gauze tight enough, and a fresh bead of blood seeped through the white fabric. He frowned, walking quickly toward me. “What happened?” “I tripped.” He didn’t press for details. He sat down right in front of me, took the tweezers, and used a cotton ball to carefully clean the dried blood from my skin. To an outsider, he looked like the absolute perfect husband. He didn’t yell. He didn’t throw tantrums. He never used the silent treatment as a weapon. But looking at him, my eyes welled up with tears from a completely different kind of pain. I couldn’t hold it back anymore. “When you married me… was it because of Serena?” His hand stopped moving. The cotton ball pressed firmly against my raw wound, and I sucked in a sharp breath. It was as if my flinch brought him back to reality. He loosened his grip. “Don’t overthink things.” The same empty phrase. I looked down at his familiar, lowered eyelashes. He was so close, yet lightyears away. “Just say no. Just say the word, and I’ll believe you.” But what hurt far worse than my scraped arm was his absolute, suffocating silence. In that quiet span of seconds, I already had my answer. 3 Some old college classmates organized a reunion dinner. I originally had no intention of going. When the invitation popped up in the group chat, I glanced at it once and closed the app. I hadn’t seen most of those names in years. Some people didn’t need to be seen again. Just thinking about them made old scars itch. But Vaughn actually pushed back. “You shouldn’t lock yourself in the house all day. Go out. Get some fresh air.” I desperately wanted to ask him. Are you trying to get me to see old friends, or are you just looking for an excuse to see Serena? But I swallowed the question. Asking too many questions would only make me look pathetic. I arrived late. The heavy door to the private dining room was slightly ajar. “Honestly, Vaughn and Serena were the ultimate power couple back then.” “The untouchable campus prince and the golden girl.” “Who wasn’t obsessed with them?” Someone else chimed in. “Who would’ve guessed he’d end up marrying Jill?” A brief silence hung in the air, followed by a wave of muffled laughter. “Wasn’t she built like a literal tank back then?” “Oh yeah, the resident hippo who always sat in the back corner.” “It’s like a bad rom-com script. Except the male lead still loves his golden girl, and the trope of the cheap substitute just became real life.” Someone in the room let out a soft, mocking click of their tongue. Serena was sitting in the very center of the crowd. She didn’t deny a single word. She just lowered her head and offered a bashful smile. Vaughn heard it all too. “Stop joking around,” he said. It sounded like a feather dropping onto the surface of a frozen lake. Not even a ripple. The Vaughn who had stood in a college hallway and threatened to end their academic careers with a single glare was gone. Or maybe he hadn’t changed at all. Maybe my naive, younger self just assigned far too much meaning to a passing moment of pity. One of the classmates noticed me standing in the doorway, and the color drained from their face. “Jill?” I walked in. “Sorry. Traffic.” Vaughn stood up, reaching out to pull out a chair for me. Before I could even sit down, Serena suddenly set her wine glass on the table and pressed a hand against her stomach. “I think I drank that too fast. My stomach is killing me.” Instantly, the entire room’s attention pivoted to her. Someone teased, half-joking and half-testing the waters. “Hey Vaughn, Serena’s in pain. You’re not gonna do something?” Vaughn hated those kinds of jokes. But his eyes darted straight to her anyway. The raw, instinctive panic in his gaze was unmistakable. A deep, bone-aching exhaustion washed over me. “I’m going to the restroom.” He took a step toward me, opening his mouth to say something, but Serena grabbed the cuff of his shirt. “Vaughn, do you think my ulcer is acting up again? It hurts so much.” Vaughn stopped dead in his tracks. Those few seconds of hesitation were all the time I needed to make my pathetic escape. I turned on the faucet in the restroom, scrubbing my hands for a long time, but I couldn’t wash off the sticky residue of pure humiliation. When I slipped out the back door of the restaurant, it was raining. The cold drizzle hit my face like dozens of icy fingertips. I didn’t call a cab. My thoughts were a chaotic, swirling mess. I knew these were the warning signs of a severe manic episode, but I couldn’t ground myself. As I walked past the parking lot, an SUV suddenly reversed out of a blind spot. I threw myself out of the way, twisting my ankle hard and scraping my arm against a pile of rusted metal debris. Blood dripped steadily from my fingertips. The pain in my ankle was blinding. The driver rolled down his window, cursed at me for being in the way, and sped off into the night when he realized I wasn’t fighting back. I sat alone on the wet asphalt. Suddenly, I really wanted to call Vaughn. Not because I expected him to save me. I just wanted to hear his voice. I wanted to see if my pain would make him panic the way hers did. The phone rang for a very long time before he finally picked up. “What is it?” The background noise was deafening. Serena, who had been in agonizing pain just minutes ago, was laughing brightly. “Vaughn, look at this! This is hilarious.” He spoke into the receiver again. “Jill? What’s wrong?” I opened my mouth, but the massive knot of grief lodged in my throat choked off my words. All that came out was a quiet whisper. “Nothing. Have fun.” I hung up the phone. The screen faded to black. But the torrential rain pouring inside my chest showed no signs of stopping. At three in the morning, the harsh fluorescent lights of the emergency room glared down at me. The doctor finished bandaging my arm and reviewed my X-rays. “Severely sprained ankle. Make sure to keep the stitches on your arm dry.” She looked up from her clipboard. “Is your family here?” I gripped the edge of my medical file, staring into space for a long time. Who was I supposed to list? My husband? He was busy entertaining his college sweetheart. My parents? I couldn’t bear to make them worry. I stared at the blank line for the emergency contact, and a sharp sting hit the back of my nose. I honestly didn’t know whose name I was allowed to write anymore. 4 I didn’t tell my mother about the accident. She had a weak heart and dangerously unstable blood pressure. When I was young, she and my father ruined their health running a tiny diner just to pay for my tuition. I couldn’t let her know that the daughter she cherished more than life itself had ended up in the ER at 3 AM with absolutely no one by her side. So when she called to ask why I hadn’t been home for Sunday dinner, I just told her I was slammed at work. “Jill, don’t lie to your mother.” I gripped the phone, forcing a cheerful tone. “I’m perfectly fine, Mom. I promise.” But my mother wasn’t stupid. That very afternoon, she brewed a thermos of herbal soup and took the bus to the city to find me. Before she even reached my apartment building, she spotted Vaughn. He was walking out of a high-end luxury jewelry boutique, carrying a glossy shopping bag. Serena was walking right beside him. She said something to him, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed him squarely on the lips. He didn’t push her away. Standing in the middle of the crowded sidewalk, my mother understood everything. It wasn’t that she didn’t know how cruel the world could be. She just never wanted to assume the worst about the man I loved. I had lost an alarming amount of weight recently. The light in my eyes had completely burned out. Now she knew why. I was being bled dry by a dull blade. She tried to chase after them, desperate to demand an explanation. But Vaughn had already wrapped his arm around Serena’s shoulder and guided her into the passenger seat of his car. By the time I rushed into the hospital lobby, my mother had already been wheeled into the resuscitation room. My father was trembling so violently he couldn’t even hold a pen to sign the critical condition notice. “Suspected cerebral hemorrhage. The situation is extremely volatile. We need to operate immediately, or else…” A deafening ring echoed in my ears. I pulled out my phone and dialed Vaughn’s number. “My mom is in the ER. Can you get here? No, wait! Have your private surgical specialist come first! It’s an absolute emergency!” A few seconds later, a voice came through the speaker. It wasn’t Vaughn’s. It was Serena. Her tone was sickeningly sweet, laced with feigned surprise. “Oh, Jill? Is that you?” The blood in my veins turned to ice. “Where is Vaughn?!” “He’s accompanying me at the OBGYN clinic. He’s consulting with the chief specialist right now, so he left his phone with me.” OBGYN? The red light above the resuscitation doors was still glaring brightly. I didn’t have the luxury of dissecting her words. “Put him on the phone! My mother is dying. I am begging you, put him on the damn phone right now!” Serena paused for a second, then immediately reassured me. “Jill, don’t panic. I’ll tell him right away.” I gripped my phone, pacing the sterile hallway. Ten minutes passed. No call back. The nurses rushed out, their voices frantic. “Did you get a hold of the specialist? The patient doesn’t have much time.” I dialed Vaughn’s number over and over again. It rang out every single time. My father stood in the corner, his eyes bloodshot. “What did Vaughn say?” Just then, a notification from my consulting app pinged. Serena had sent a new photo. Vaughn was lying on a plush sofa beside her, his eyes closed, fast asleep. [Just wanted to brag a little bit. Isn’t he so handsome when he sleeps? I really hit the jackpot.] The doors to the ER swung open and shut. Nurses sprinted past me. My father was begging the doctors to try anything, everything. But all I could see was the image of my husband resting peacefully by her side. The woman who gave me life was bleeding out on an operating table. The son-in-law she treated like her own flesh and blood never showed up. Later, a doctor walked out and pulled down his surgical mask. I watched his lips move in slow motion. “I am so sorry. We did everything we could.” My mother didn’t make it. The golden window for surgery had been stalled away minute by minute. I collapsed to my knees outside the surgical doors. I couldn’t even force a sob out of my throat. It felt like a crucial wire inside my body had snapped, leaving me suspended in a terrifying void. Someone tried to help me up. They let me inside the room. My mother was lying there, completely still. Suddenly, a blinding, tearing pain ripped through my abdomen. Hot blood rushed down my legs, soaking my pants. Someone screamed. Hands grabbed me. My vision went entirely black. When I finally opened my eyes again, I was staring at a white hospital ceiling. “You were pregnant. But… the trauma was too severe. You lost the baby.” It took a very long time for those words to process. Pregnant. Baby. Lost. The three concepts crashed into each other, forming a language I couldn’t comprehend. I didn’t even know this child had existed. I had no idea a tiny life had briefly made its home inside of me. And just like that, it vanished, leaving this world at the exact same time as my mother. My phone buzzed on the nightstand. It was Serena again. [Great news! I’m pregnant!] [He is totally freaking out about being a dad. It’s actually kind of adorable.] [I’m starving. Here’s a sneak peek of him looking at the ultrasound.] In the picture, Vaughn was holding a medical report. His profile was remarkably soft, genuinely preparing to welcome their child into the world. I didn’t even have the strength left to cry. Vaughn didn’t come home for the next several days. Serena had pouted and said, “I don’t want to spend Valentine’s Day alone.” So he stayed with her. The day after Valentine’s Day, he finally walked through our front door, looking tired but accomplished. Sitting right in the center of the dining table was a beautifully wrapped gift box. He stared at it for a moment before guilt washed over his features. He remembered that I prepared a lavish gift for him every single year. Driven by remorse, he reached out and untied the silk ribbon. When he finally saw what was resting inside, every drop of color vanished from his face.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “447282”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I spent a decade bullying the Vance family’s heir, relying entirely on our childhood sweetheart status. Who could have predicted that the very day after he went abroad, I’d be exposed as a fake heiress and kicked out of my home overnight? Later, at the true heiress’s birthday banquet, the newly returned Carter Vance confessed his love on the spot. The surrounding crowd was moved to tears. But the very next second— “Wait, who the hell are you?! Where is Chloe?!” Thanks for asking. I’m currently busy selling corn dogs at the night market. 01 When Carter found me, the night market was at its absolute peak. The streets of the old downtown district were packed with people, bustling with noise, and thick with the smoky scent of street food. He was wearing a custom-tailored three-piece suit, a pair of thin-rimmed glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. As a wealthy heir pampered since birth, every single strand of his hair was styled to perfection. He looked completely and utterly out of place in this gritty night market. “Chloe?” He stared at me in sheer disbelief. I glanced up at him, not surprised in the slightest. “Oh, you’re back?” Then, I lowered my head and expertly flipped a sizzling corn dog on the grill. “I’m a bit swamped right now. No time to catch up. Just give me a minute.” Hearing this, he instinctively frowned, then raised his voice. “Chloe!” I didn’t even look up. “Corn dogs are three dollars for one, five dollars for two. How many do you want?” Silence hung in the air for two seconds before he choked out a single sentence: “…Two.” “You got it.” Two minutes later, the two of us were squatting behind my food cart, eating corn dogs. The pampered young heir had probably never eaten anything this cheap in his life. After one bite, his brows knitted together in disgust, but when he met my gaze, he obediently swallowed it down. He looked like a pathetic, kicked puppy. Meanwhile, I scarfed down my corn dog in three bites and turned around to get back to the grind— “Chloe,” he called out to me again. I turned to look at him. “What?” He stared at me earnestly. “I went to your house to find you. You weren’t there.” “Oh, right, I haven’t had the chance to tell you. I left the Sterling family.” I thought for a moment, then asked, “Did you see Riley?” “Yeah.” “Is she pretty?” Carter frowned slightly. The gentlemanly upbringing he’d received since childhood prevented him from insulting a girl, so he simply mumbled, “She’s alright, I guess.” After a pause, he added, “But she’s not as pretty as you.” I nodded. “Alright, keep this in mind. She is the true heiress of the Sterling family. She’s the one who was supposed to grow up with you. She had a really hard life all these years and finally made it back home. You need to treat her well.” At the very least, don’t make an enemy out of her because of me. That way, you won’t end up with that tragic ending again. With that said, I turned to leave— But I couldn’t move. I sighed in exasperation. “What is it now, Your Highness?” “You said that if I came back, you’d agree to be my girlfriend.” Carter gripped my arm tightly and blinked. His eyes instantly turned red, looking exactly like a wronged golden retriever. “Does that still count?” Only then did I remember. Back when Carter was refusing to study abroad, I might have promised him a few things just to coax him onto the plane. Carter and I were childhood sweethearts. Relying on that status, I had bullied him for over a decade. He was the dignified heir of the Vance family, sitting at the absolute pinnacle of high society, yet he always followed my every command. Back then, I treated Carter like he belonged to me. But who could have imagined that in just two short years, the gap between us would become as vast as the sky and the dirt? But… this was an ending I had anticipated a long time ago. “It doesn’t count anymore.” I reached out and gently pried his fingers off my arm. Meeting a gaze that looked like he was about to burst into tears at any second, I lowered my eyes. “Carter, we aren’t equals anymore.” So, in this life, you need to live well. 02 In my previous life, my ending was incredibly tragic. From the day Riley returned to the Sterling family, I became obsessed with making her life miserable. Relying on my status as the Vance family heir’s childhood sweetheart, I did everything in my power to sabotage her. In the end, everyone turned their backs on me. The Sterling family, having finally reached their breaking point, joined forces and threw me into a psychiatric hospital. Riley, on the other hand, went from an innocent little flower to the beloved darling of the Sterling family. Later, she voluntarily broke off her engagement with Carter and slapped everyone in the face by marrying his shrewd, capable uncle. She ended up having triplets in one pregnancy and became the absolute treasure of the Vance family’s true patriarch. Riley and I were like two sides of a mirror in a trashy billionaire romance novel. One fell from grace to total abandonment; the other rose from the ashes to ultimate glory. It was as if we were just blindly following a script. From beginning to end, only Carter stood firmly by my side. He defied his engagement for me. He publicly went to war with the elders in his family multiple times and treated his actual fiancée, Riley, with nothing but cold disdain. Because of that, his position as the heir was snatched away. He went from the golden boy of the Vance family to an outcast. Eventually, on the day I was dragged off to the asylum, he died in a horrific car crash while trying to save me. He could have had a wonderful life. Carefree, wealthy, and perfectly happy. If it hadn’t been for me… So, when I was reborn, I didn’t hesitate to persuade Carter to study abroad. And on the day I was exposed as the fake heiress, I didn’t fall to my knees and beg the Sterlings to let me stay. Instead, I took my severance check, packed my bags, and left cleanly. This time, I didn’t want Carter to see any of my misery or humiliation. I would rather remain in his memories as the bright, arrogant Chloe he grew up with—his proud childhood sweetheart. 03 I changed into my uniform and stepped out of the locker room. My part-time job tonight was as a bottle service waitress at a high-end private club. In the past, as the eldest daughter of the Sterling family, I used to frequent this place with other rich kids. But this was my first time being here as the help. The manager sent me to deliver drinks to a VIP room. The moment I pushed the door open, the first person I saw was Riley. Just like in my past life, she sat in the center of the crowd, wearing a pristine white dress, surrounded by admirers. According to the timeline, she had fully adapted to high society by now. Relying on her innocent and kind personality, she had won the approval of the Sterling family and was their undisputed little princess. Sitting next to her was a crowd of familiar faces—all my former wealthy playmates. I frowned slightly, kept my head down, and walked in. I originally just wanted to drop off the liquor and slip out unnoticed because I had much more important things to do tonight. But as I turned around, someone recognized me. “Chloe?” The guy who spoke happened to be holding the microphone. As his voice echoed, the entire room fell dead silent. Everyone’s eyes locked onto me. “It really is you!” The guy chuckled, as if he had just found a hilarious new toy. “When did our great Miss Sterling become so pathetic?” The moment he said that, laughter erupted across the room. “Figures. A fake is still a fake.” “Hilarious. I can’t believe she actually fell this hard.” The rich kid who spoke first, Chase, leaned in close to Riley and sneered. “See, Riley? I told you Chloe was inferior to you in every way.” “Carter only plays nice with her because they grew up together. Don’t worry, give it some time, and he’ll naturally fall for you.” Riley glanced in my direction and spoke in a timid, soft voice. “But… I think Carter still likes her more.” Hearing that, I instantly understood. Chase was doing this on purpose. Because at the birthday banquet two days ago, Carter had confessed his love on the spot before realizing he had the wrong girl. It made Riley a laughingstock in their social circles. So, to get on Riley’s good side, these people were purposely kicking me while I was down. How childish, I mocked internally, though my gaze shifted to a girl sitting in the crowd. My former best friend, Mia. In my past life, her family went bankrupt right before I was exposed as a fake heiress. They sold all their real estate just to barely cover their debts and had to move to a different city. Later, even after the true heiress scandal broke, I was allowed to stay with the Sterlings, though my allowance was slashed in half. Even then, I gave half of that money to Mia to help her family survive their darkest days. Because she was my one and only best friend. In this life, her family’s company unexpectedly received a massive injection of capital. Not only did they avoid bankruptcy, but over the last two years, their assets had skyrocketed, nearly matching the Sterlings. Yet, meeting my gaze now, she guiltily shrank back into the sofa, avoiding my eyes. In the end, she didn’t speak up to defend me. My expectation slowly turned into sheer disappointment. I opened my mouth, wanting to ask her, Why? But I found that the words just wouldn’t come out. “Chloe, are you okay?” Seeing my silence, Riley took the initiative to walk over. “I’m so sorry, everyone didn’t mean to laugh at you.” She looked like the perfect, considerate little flower. Logically, this was the part where I was supposed to feel “humiliated,” drop the drinks, and storm out— “Hey, hey, hey, where do you think you’re going? Is this how the club trains its staff? Get over here and pour my drink!” Chase yelled, looking incredibly smug as he actively picked a fight. “Maybe if I’m in a good mood, I’ll toss you a couple thousand in tips.” “Chloe, life must be pretty hard since you left the Sterlings, huh?” When I didn’t reply, his eyes rolled, and he took it a step further. “Perfect timing. My bed has been a little cold lately.” “You’ve got a decent face and a killer body. Why don’t you just follow me…” As his words grew increasingly vulgar, the rest of the room put on faces eager for a good show. Only Riley frowned slightly. Just as she was about to speak— BANG. The VIP door was kicked open. Carter, who had arrived late, stood in the doorway with a face like thunder. Under everyone’s stunned gazes, he stormed into the room. He stopped dead in front of Chase, his eyes sharp as daggers. Gritting his teeth, he asked, word by word, “Who exactly did you just say had a ‘decent face’?” For a split second, the room was terrifyingly quiet. Even I was a little surprised. Carter liked peace and quiet. Unless he was following me around, he rarely set foot in places like this. “C-Carter, bro…” Chase hadn’t expected Carter to show up. His legs instantly turned to jelly. “I-I was just joking…” In front of Carter, he didn’t dare act tough. “Oh?” Carter tilted his head, his face completely devoid of emotion. “Who gave you the nerve to joke with her?” At that moment, another wealthy heir who used to be close with Carter stepped up to smooth things over. “Come on, Carter, we all know you and Chloe used to be close, but she’s not one of us anymore. We all grew up together, there’s no need to ruin the vibe over her…” Before he could finish, Carter cut him off. “Oh, so you do remember we all grew up together?” He glared at the guy, then swept his icy gaze across the varying expressions in the room. “What exactly did she do wrong? Did she ask to be switched at birth? Did she ever do a single thing to wrong any of you?” “The girl I held on a pedestal like a princess—this is how you treat her?!” He scowled furiously. “Are all of you out of your damn minds?” 04 Honestly, it wasn’t just Carter. Even having lived two lives, I still couldn’t understand it. Why did the playmates I grew up with instantly kick me while I was down the second they learned my true identity? Why did the best friend who swore we’d be sisters for life refuse to say a single word for me when I hit rock bottom? It felt as if the world operated on a pre-written code. More than a decade of affection and loyalty vanished into thin air the exact moment the “fake heiress” label was slapped onto me. From beginning to end, only Carter stood firmly by my side. So, the more he did, the less I wanted him dragged into this mess. But Carter was like a husky off its leash—completely uncontrollable. The rest of the room was too stunned by his screaming to react. The next second, Carter, whose aura had just been ten feet tall, turned to face me and instantly deflated. “Don’t be scared, I wasn’t yelling at you.” He thought for a second, then added, “I know swearing is bad. It’s a character flaw of mine. Don’t learn from me.” Catching the complex, bewildered looks the others were shooting me, my mouth twitched. I quickly grabbed Carter by the arm and dragged him out of the room. “Hey, I wasn’t finished! How could they treat you like that…” “Shut up.” It wasn’t until we reached the emergency stairwell that I finally turned to look at him. “Why are you here?” “To find you, obviously,” he said, looking completely innocent. “Didn’t I tell you we aren’t equals anymore? You don’t need to follow me around…” “Chloe,” he interrupted me. Looking at me with dead-serious eyes, he asked, “So, for the past two years, while I was gone… is this the kind of life you’ve been living?” Hearing that, I fell silent. “Chloe, I regret it. I shouldn’t have listened to you and gone abroad.” His eyes were filled with so much heartache it made me dizzy. It reminded me of my past life. Back then, he had looked at me the exact same way and whispered, “Chloe, my heart breaks for you.” If there was anyone in this world who would love me unconditionally and without reservation… It could only be Carter. Taking a deep breath, I said softly, “Carter, just give me a little more time.” I will work hard to stand by your side once again.

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1 After being beaten bloody by my autistic son yet again, I finally collapsed onto the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. I had cared for him meticulously for thirty years, and he had tormented me for thirty years. My son, John, sneered and walked away. My husband, Adam Clarke, came downstairs, ignoring my blood-soaked face. “Thirty years have passed, it’s time I told you the truth.” I looked up, blood trickling down my cheek and onto the floor, listening as he spoke indifferently. “John isn’t your biological son. Your biological son is Finn.” “Thirty years ago, when Sarah Willett was pregnant, she found out her child had a genetic defect. So, after they were born, I swapped the two babies.” My body froze. He glanced at me indifferently. “Now, thirty years have passed. The children are grown, and everything is settled. There’s nothing left to hide from you.” With that, he walked away without looking back. I slumped to the floor, recalling thirty years of torment, laughing through tears, crying through laughter. Finally, a rush of blood to my head, and the wound John had inflicted gushed blood. I collapsed, closing my eyes. “Congratulations, it’s a boy, seven pounds, six ounces.” I opened my eyes, finding myself lying in an operating room from thirty years ago, having just given birth… … The nurse brought the baby closer, “Look, it’s a little boy.” I reacted, looking down. Gazing at the wrinkled baby, I gently pulled back his small blanket and indeed saw an inconspicuous red mole behind his ear. It was real… In my past life, when I was blow-drying Finn’s hair, I had incidentally discovered this red mole. I even teased, “Finn, I have one behind my ear too.” At that time, my cousin, Sarah Willett, instantly changed color, her tone sharp. “We’re family. What’s so strange about a red mole?” But when I saw Finn again later, I noticed his red mole had been removed… I didn’t think much of it then, but now I knew, it was clearly a sign of guilt! I couldn’t help but clench my hands. Intense hatred and relief washed over me. I held Finn, tears streaming down my face. The nurse saw my reaction and said with a smile. “It certainly wasn’t easy. The baby was quite large, and you almost hemorrhaged. But now it’s all good, mother and son are safe, don’t worry.” I nodded. The thought of the child I’d nearly died giving birth to being given away by Adam Clarke made my heart ache. The nurse wheeled me out. Almost simultaneously, Sarah Willett, who had given birth in the room to the left, was also wheeled out. Adam Clarke, waiting outside the delivery room, didn’t hesitate, rushing straight to Sarah Willett. Everyone exchanged bewildered glances. I coldly turned my head away. Only then did I realize how intimate those two were. In my previous life, I must have been blind not to see their affair! Adam Clarke also realized his behavior was overly emotional. He quickly turned and walked towards me, taking my hand, his face filled with concern. “You worked so hard, my love. I love you.” I pulled my hand away, no longer looking at him. Adam Clarke’s body stiffened for a moment. Back in the hospital room, I dared not sleep. In my previous life, I never knew when they made the switch, but thankfully, this time there was the red mole. John was diagnosed with autism when he was three. Further examinations revealed he also exhibited severe violent tendencies. As his mother, I felt I had failed him, so I desperately tried to compensate and treat him. But what I received in return? Only increasingly severe beatings, day by day. When John bludgeoned me to death with an ashtray, I was only fifty, yet my hair had already turned completely white. Thinking of this, I took a deep breath to suppress the rising bitterness in my chest. Looking down at the sleeping Finn, a wave of tenderness washed over me. Thank goodness I was back… Soon after. Adam Clarke entered with a thermos, spooning out nutritious porridge and feeding me bite by bite. During this, I carefully observed him, noticing he kept glancing at Finn, his eyes shifting uneasily! Adam Clarke snapped out of it, seeing my inscrutable expression, his face stiffening slightly. “What’s wrong?” I spoke faintly, “Nothing.” He quietly exhaled, relieved. After putting away the thermos, he reached out towards Finn. “Come here, Daddy will hold you.” I reacted reflexively, pushing his hand away with a slap, my breathing rapid. “Get out! Don’t touch him!” Adam Clarke nearly lost his balance, his brows furrowed in surprise. “Isabelle, what’s gotten into you? Why such a temper after giving birth?” I held Finn tightly. My gaze filled with hatred. What’s wrong? In my previous life, when he saw me being beaten and kicked, all he would say was, “What’s a little hit? It won’t kill you.” Yet when Sarah Willett fell ill, he would drop everything to care for her! Just then, Mom, Dad, and Sarah Willett arrived. Mom lightly nudged me, “Adam, don’t be angry. Women’s emotions can be off after childbirth.” Sarah Willett stepped forward, “Cousin, let me see him. These two brothers born on the same day, how fated.” I looked up at them, my voice hoarse and cold. “I need to rest. Everyone out.” Adam Clarke and Sarah Willett exchanged a bewildered glance, which I clearly saw. He pursed his lips. “Then I’ll go pay the bill.” As he turned, I called out to him, my eyes indifferent and resolute. “Adam Clarke, we’re getting a divorce.” Silence instantly fell in the room. Everyone stopped, turning to look at me in shock. “You, what did you say?” Adam Clarke’s voice trembled with surprise. He quickly walked to my side, taking my hand. “Isabelle, what’s wrong with you?” I closed my eyes, pulling my hand away. “I’m tired. Everyone out.” Mom and Dad exchanged glances. Seeing my overly pale face, they dared not say anything. He frowned. Withdrawing his empty hand, “Alright, you rest first. I won’t disturb you. I’ll come back to stay tonight.” The room became quiet again. I held Finn, looking at the red mole behind his ear, my eyes a little sore. Soon after. A nurse entered, “The baby needs a blood test. Who will accompany him?” “I will,” I replied. I picked up Finn and stood. As I passed the emergency exit, I heard hushed whispers. “Adam, why did Isabelle suddenly want a divorce from you? And she won’t let us touch the baby.” Sarah Willett sounded flustered. “Did she find something out? Can we still successfully swap the autistic child with her? I don’t want to raise a disabled person!” Adam Clarke quickly tried to reassure her, his tone also heavy, tinged with doubt. “She couldn’t possibly know.” “Only the two of us know about this plan, and we haven’t even acted yet. How could Isabelle possibly suspect?” His tone was confident. “Don’t worry, it might just be emotional instability. We’ll switch them as soon as possible. I’ll stay with her tonight, and we’ll act then.” Sarah Willett whimpered, “Okay.” At this moment. I stood outside the door. A gust of wind made me shiver, my face completely drained of color. Tonight… I hugged my child tightly. No one would take him from me! Evening. Adam Clarke indeed sent Mom and Dad home, citing their age and susceptibility to fatigue, and retrieved a folding bed from a nurse. I watched him constantly, my gaze dark and unreadable. Adam Clarke kept touching his nose under my scrutiny; I knew it was a sign of his guilt and nervousness. “What’s wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?” He set up the bed, acting as if he was genuinely protecting me. Sitting there, he looked at me gently and sighed. “Izzy, I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear you talk about divorce today. I know you just gave birth, and your hormones are running wild.” “Don’t worry, I’ll always be here for you and the baby.” As he said this, his eyes were incredibly sincere. I sneered inwardly. In my previous life, Sarah Willett had suddenly become pregnant. She only said she’d met the wrong person outside and gotten herself pregnant. Mom, Dad, and I thought she’d encountered a bad man. Sympathetic and heartbroken. We didn’t dare ask for too many details. Only now did I realize, ‘met the wrong person’? That was clearly Adam Clarke’s child! Adam Clarke spoke, interrupting my thoughts, “Okay?” I hummed in response. Without any emotion. He quietly let out a breath, confirming that I hadn’t detected any sign of the plan. He turned to grab his phone, likely to confirm the plan with Sarah Willett. I was genuinely exhausted. My nerves had been on edge since nearly dying in childbirth that morning. Unbeknownst to me, I actually fell asleep. I don’t know how much time passed, but the entire hospital grew quiet. Adam Clarke got up and walked to my side. “Isabelle, Isabelle?” I woke up on his second call, but didn’t move. Soon after. After a flurry of hurried but deliberately quiet footsteps, the child in my arms was taken, and then another was put back. “You take the baby back quickly. Don’t worry, all newborns look the same. She won’t notice.” Adam Clarke was instructing Sarah Willett. After Sarah Willett left, he called me softly twice more. Seeing I still didn’t react. Only then did he let out a sudden sigh of relief. He lay back on the folding bed, emitting a faint snore. At this moment, I opened my eyes. Looking at the child in my arms without the red mole, all I felt was heartbreak, a cold numbness, and hatred. Three AM. I secretly went to Sarah Willett’s room and swapped the two babies back! In my previous life, John first exhibited violent behavior at the age of eight. That day, I took him to the street to buy ice cream. As we crossed the road. John suddenly and unexpectedly broke free from my hand, pushing me straight into the path of speeding traffic! I was slammed onto the ground, my face and body covered in blood. And John stood not far away. Watching me with a sinister smile. “Heh heh, serves you right! Mommy got hit by a car!” My face was ashen, but I was rushed to the hospital in time. However, I suffered permanent brain trauma, and every rainy day, I would get splitting headaches. But I didn’t blame him. The more abnormal he became, the more guilty I felt. After all, I had given birth to him. Later, he would reach out and slap me hard when I was helping him with homework. As he grew older, he started punching and kicking, throwing cups and ashtrays at me—it was commonplace. And at home. Adam Clarke was often nowhere to be found, spending his time with Sarah Willett, leaving me alone to crumble. On the way back with my child, I reminisced, gently pushing open the door. Lying back on the bed, I finally let out a sigh of relief. Morning. I was woken by Adam Clarke. His eyes were smiling, as if a great weight had been lifted from his mind. “I bought red bean porridge for breakfast. Drink some, it helps with milk production too.” I gave him a long, hard look. Lowering my gaze, I hid all my thoughts. “Okay, bring it to me.” Then I added. “You should hold the baby. After all, you’re his father.” Now, my Finn was completely safe. Being overly cautious would only raise suspicion. Adam Clarke’s eyes lit up at my words. I didn’t know if he was happy about being able to hold the baby, or if he was simply relieved that my ‘madness’ yesterday was just an anomaly. Just then, Finn whimpered and woke up, crying from hunger. Adam Clarke handed the baby to me, then cleared his throat. “By the way, I should go check on Sarah Willett.” “She’s your relative, and she doesn’t have a husband around. As her brother-in-law, I should go check on her and bring her some food?” I soothed Finn. Then nodded, saying indifferently, “Okay, go ahead.” No sooner had he left than Mom and Dad arrived. I handed the baby to Mom, my expression normal, “Mom, I’m going to check on Sarah. She’s quite pathetic.” Then I followed him. I needed to confirm if they truly believed that was Finn, and if they had any suspicions. In the hospital room, Sarah Willett held ‘Finn,’ her face soft and tender. “Adam, thank you for helping me.” The man held her, “What are you thanking me for? It’s my fault I can’t give you a proper status.” “Now it’s all good. Our child is healthy. As for Isabelle, that’s her fate.” I listened from outside the door. My hands clenched tightly into fists, trembling uncontrollably. In that instant, I felt both absurd and heartbroken. Fate? Thirty years of torment, thirty years of being beaten and kicked. Why was that my fate?! I took a deep breath, suppressing my rage. When Adam Clarke returned, there was a faint hickey on the back of his neck. I averted my gaze, pretending not to see it. Only feeling sickened. In the afternoon, Sarah Willett came with ‘Finn,’ a barely concealed triumph in her eyes. “Good boy, Mommy’s baby is so well-behaved.” She glanced at me, then began to show off. “Cousin, I hear your baby cries constantly and can’t be soothed? Oh, I envy you, boys should be lively.” “Not like mine, who just eats and sleeps all day, giving me no worries.” I looked up, a faint, unreadable smile on my face. “Is that so? Well, cousin, you must take very good care of him, and hope he becomes lively.” The biggest characteristic of an autistic child. Is that they are especially quiet and well-behaved in the first few days after birth, and then… the symptoms will slowly begin to show! And so, three days later. Sarah Willett suddenly broke down. That morning, I was woken by Sarah Willett’s cries. Everyone opened their doors to investigate. Adam Clarke, frowning, instinctively opened Sarah Willett’s room door. Her hair was disheveled, and her eyes were bruised. Clearly, she hadn’t slept all night. “Why won’t he sleep?! He just cries and cries! Is there something wrong with him?!” She instinctively appealed to Adam Clarke, then looked at me after a moment of realization. “Cousin, can you ask my brother-in-law to help me soothe him?” I sneered inwardly. But outwardly, I said, “Of course. We’re family. Darling, go help Sarah.” Seeing this, everyone dispersed. Watching them flounder, I felt a kind of vengeful pleasure. In my previous life. No one helped me. Only I, myself, got up again and again from despair and breakdown, until I lost my life! In the middle of the night, after I fell asleep, Adam Clarke went to the next room again. I opened my eyes and quietly followed. I heard Sarah Willett’s broken sobs, “Adam, what’s wrong with this baby? I’m truly losing my mind.” Adam Clarke frowned, his voice a little hoarse. “Hungry? Or what?” Sarah Willett sobbed and cried, suddenly clutching his arm tightly, her voice trembling. “Do you think the tests were wrong? My baby was never sick. Isabelle also had an amniocentesis. Could the nurse have mixed up the reports?!” “What if Isabelle’s baby is the one who’s actually sick?!” The more she spoke, the more plausible it seemed to her, and she started to break down. “Then didn’t I give her my healthy biological son?! No, I have to swap him back!” Adam Clarke held her down. “It’s not that easy. The babies have grown now; there’s no way to switch them back!” Sarah Willett’s breathing was ragged, reckless. “Then I’ll just say Isabelle secretly swapped the babies! At worst, we’ll do a paternity test. Anyway, she has my biological son right now! That way, my child will be back, won’t he?!” Adam Clarke pondered, found it feasible, and then nodded. I took in everything. Sarah Willett thought I had her child and wanted to use a paternity test to get him back, but she didn’t know I had already swapped them back! Let them cause a scene. The bigger the scene, the better. Then everyone would know that her child was the one with the condition! The next morning. My door was thrown open by Sarah Willett. She advanced, grabbing my hair and slapping me hard, crying hysterically. A crowd of curious onlookers began to gather at the door. “Isabelle! You’re my sister, the only person I care about in this world! Why would you do this to me?!” The family members and patients at the door frowned. “What’s going on? Aren’t they family? Why are they fighting?” “I don’t know.” The slap left me seeing stars, my face instantly red and swollen, stinging fiercely. Sarah Willett cried uncontrollably. “Isabelle, tell everyone here, why did you swap my baby?!” Everyone gasped in shock, their eyes wide. “Swap babies?!” “That can’t be true. Why would she swap babies?” I said nothing. Sarah Willett continued her self-pitying performance, crying incessantly. “Because her child has autism, a mentally disabled child! So she swapped my healthy child!” She placed the constantly crying child on the bed. “This is her child!” At this, I got out of bed and confronted her, “How can you claim I swapped the babies? Don’t you dare accuse me falsely!” Sarah Willett was convinced. “You won’t admit it? Cousin, I originally thought we shouldn’t make such a spectacle as family, but now, you’re forcing my hand!” “We’ll do a paternity test!” The crowd at the door was shocked, then turned to criticize me. “That girl is willing to do a paternity test, so it must be true. Can’t believe this sister is such a vicious woman!” “How shameless!” The incident escalated, and the hospital, fearing complications, had to arrange a paternity test. Sarah Willett sat on the bed. She wouldn’t even glance at the crying child. “So noisy! Shut up!” I held Finn, observing coldly. At 6 PM, the paternity test results were ready. The crowd of onlookers was even larger than that morning, chattering, accusing me of being malicious and shameless. Sarah Willett looked at the doctor holding the report, reaching out to me. “Isabelle, the paternity test results are out! What do you have to say for yourself now that it’s come to this! Give me back my healthy biological son!” I stood still. Adam Clarke glanced at us, then quickly snatched the report and tore it open to read. Then. His confident expression suddenly froze, his face turning ashen.

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1 After marrying Alan Naughton, every morning at seven, I would hear the progress of my “conquest” of him in my mind. He was unfailingly responsive to my every whim, impeccably perfect. Yet, the progress bar stubbornly stalled at 95%. I loved him with all my heart, and naturally, I wanted him to love me just as completely. So, I shed my sharp edges, embraced his preferences, and transformed myself into the gentle, virtuous Mrs. Naughton. This morning’s progress report finally hit a hundred percent! He came home early, changed into an off-white linen pajama set, and the cold aloofness that usually surrounded him softened. We snuggled together, watching an indie romance film. He got up to wash fruit, and I leaned back on the still-warm sofa, my heart full of sweetness. Suddenly, my tablet chimed twice. Curiously, I tapped it open and froze. “Your wife is so ugly, ugh.” “At 4 minutes 13 seconds, her tummy rolls are practically popping out. You must be suffering, pretending to be in love with her watching this movie.” … I stared at the two lines of text on the screen. Shock, fury, disgust. All emotions intertwined, but I didn’t explode. How could the man I had completely “conquered” be live-streaming our time together to someone else? I knew Alan’s character. He was aloof and proud; he would never do something so despicable. It must be a misunderstanding! Before he explained, I shouldn’t blindly lose my temper and accuse him. Alan walked out, drying his hair, and saw me sitting on the bed, pale, holding the tablet. “Mia, what’s wrong? Feeling unwell?” I turned the tablet and pushed it toward him. Alan’s gaze fell on the screen. I didn’t miss a single change in his expression. No panic, no guilt. He simply visibly darkened, then tiredly pinched the bridge of his nose: “She’s at it again.” “Who is ‘she’?” Alan sat beside me, his voice full of helplessness: “A new colleague who joined our department, her name’s Clara.” He pointed to his head. “Probably severe delusional disorder.” He candidly pulled out his phone, unlocked it, opened his messenger, and handed it to me. “See for yourself.” The chat history was filled with Clara’s one-sided barrages. “Dr. Naughton, you look so handsome in your lab coat today!” “Your spoiled, old-fashioned wife is no good. Only I can help you.” There were also various self-orchestrated fantasies. Alan’s replies were few and far between, and entirely about stiff work matters. I tapped into Clara’s social media, no photos, just blurred silhouettes and travel check-ins. “She’s harassing you like this, why haven’t you blocked her?” My voice was still tight. Alan smiled bitterly, pulling me into his arms. “Mia, do you think I don’t want to? She was placed by the hospital board, and she has deep connections. The board insisted we work together on several major projects recently. If I blocked her, how would I move forward with my work? To avoid delays, I can only keep her on my contacts and pretend she’s dead, just ignore her.” His voice held deep exhaustion. “I thought if I just ignored her, she’d get bored and stop. I never expected her to send such disgusting things to you!” “I’m sorry, Mia. I didn’t handle it well; I let you down.” Just then, that voice in my head suddenly spoke. [Warning: Trust crisis detected with your target. Current approval rating 100%. Please stop baseless speculation and avoid damaging the perfect marital relationship!] The bloodshot eyes and candid look in Alan’s eyes filled me with guilt. I had misunderstood him. He worked so hard outside, dealing with harassment from a crazy person, and yet I doubted him over two messages. “I’m sorry, Alan…” I hugged him back, my voice choked, “I shouldn’t have doubted you.” He kissed my forehead: “Silly girl, we don’t need apologies between us.” The next day. I personally cooked several of his favorite dishes, carefully packed them, and took them to the hospital. Pushing open his office door, he was sitting at his desk, rubbing his temples. Seeing me, a flicker of surprise crossed his eyes. “Why didn’t you call ahead? Aren’t you tired?” He smiled, taking the insulated box. “Wanted to make sure you’re well fed.” Just as he picked up his chopsticks to eat, his phone screen lit up. Alan glanced at it, his face instantly changing, and he decisively stood up: “Mia, emergency in the ER. Major car accident. I have to go save them immediately!” He grabbed his lab coat and rushed out of the office. I stood there, stunned, looking at the steaming food, a hollow feeling in my heart. But there was nothing to do. Lives were on the line. I could only quietly pack up the insulated box and take a cab home. As soon as I walked through the door, I received a text message from an unknown number. “The food you cook, just the smell of it is sickening. Not as delicious as my body, though. Dr. Naughton is starving for it~” 2 If last night’s message was her one-sided fantasy, what about today? I had barely delivered the food to the hospital when Alan made an excuse about an emergency surgery and rushed off. I went straight back to the hospital. Not to find Alan, but to the HR department. “I want to file a formal complaint against Clara, a doctor in your cardiac surgery department!” I slammed both hands on the desk. “She has an unprofessional conduct and is severely harassing a colleague’s family!” The person across from me was startled. He frowned and opened the system: “Clara? Cardiac surgery? Please wait.” A minute later, he looked up, puzzled: “Are you mistaken? We have no doctor named Clara in our hospital system, nor any nurse.” “Impossible!” I raised my voice. “She’s new! She’s in the same department as Alan Naughton, how could you not find her!” “Truly, no one.” The clerk turned the monitor towards me. “The entire staff list is here. No one by that name.” I stared at the “No matching results” message on the screen, my mind a blank. Medical staff gradually gathered outside, curious. “Isn’t that Dr. Naughton’s wife?” “Why is she causing a scene here?” “I heard her mental state isn’t very good, always suspicious…” “Poor thing, Dr. Naughton is so brilliant, how did he end up with a crazy wife.” … The fragmented whispers pierced my ears. I looked around, experiencing panic for the first time. Just as I was on the verge of collapsing, Alan rushed in, drenched in sweat, pulling me into his arms. He didn’t get angry at me; instead, he bowed repeatedly, apologizing to everyone around us. “I’m so sorry, truly! My wife has been under a lot of stress lately, and hasn’t been sleeping well. She might have misunderstood something. I apologize for disturbing everyone, please don’t mind her!” I was half-hugged, half-dragged by him into the car. As soon as the car door closed, Alan’s eyes reddened. “Mia, I’m sorry… I lied to you.” I looked at him blankly. “Clara isn’t a colleague from our hospital.” He confessed, choked up, “She’s an external pharmaceutical rep. Last night, seeing how upset you were, how much you minded this person, all my energy was spent on calming you down. I didn’t want to mention irrelevant people and upset you further, so I just casually made up a lie, saying she was a colleague, hoping to gloss over the matter…” I remained silent, showing him the text message. “I really did go for an emergency surgery just now!” Alan looked up, his eyes full of sincerity and urgency. “That car accident patient is still in the ICU! I don’t know what’s going on with the text message, she must have bribed someone, or she was staking out the hospital and saw you! Mia, I really only lied because I was afraid you’d overthink things. I swear, she and I have absolutely nothing going on!” The warning in my mind sounded again. [Please trust your target! Stop self-sabotage!] I didn’t know who to believe, or even if I should trust my own judgment. I pushed open the car door, frantically hailed a cab, and returned to my parents’ home. This was my safe haven. Seeing me return distraught, my sister was terrified. After listening to my tearful account, she angrily smashed the decorative item beside her. “That bastard Alan Naughton!” She hugged me tightly, gnashing her teeth. “I knew that opportunistic guy couldn’t be trusted! The whole family disagreed when you insisted on marrying down! Have you forgotten how I used to argue with him? I feared he’d show his true colors once he found success!” I leaned in her arms, my thoughts a tangled mess. “What should I do? I feel like I’m going crazy.” My sister gently patted my back, her voice chilling. “Don’t worry. Mom and Dad and I will back you up! I’ll find out right now who that vixen really is!” 3 My sister moved quickly. “Got it.” “She’s the daughter of a high-ranking executive at Thorne Group! A notorious party girl in the social circles.” The day I received the documents from my sister happened to be my birthday. Alan had specifically taken time off, booked out a restaurant, and even gifted me an expensive diamond necklace. Candlelight flickered, and a violin played a melodious tune. “Mia, happy birthday!” The atmosphere was warm, and he was about to clink glasses with me. His phone suddenly vibrated urgently. He glanced at the screen, his face instantly grave. After taking the call and listening for a few moments, he quickly stood up, looking apologetically at me: “Mia, I’m so sorry. There’s an emergency in the department, and I have to be the lead surgeon.” “But today…” “Come on, lives are at stake. I’ll come right back to you after I’m done!” He left the restaurant without a backward glance. I stared at the untouched glass of red wine opposite me, feeling a deep sadness. A few minutes later, my sister sent a message. [I just finished with a client and saw Alan Naughton at the Crystal Club! He went into a VIP room, and Clara is in there too! I’ve sent you the location!] That voice in my head screamed again. [Warning: Target detected meeting with another woman. Maintain composure and defend your marriage!] The stress reaction made me lose my ability to think. I rushed towards the Crystal Club following the location. “Bang!” After kicking open the private room door, Alan and Clara were sitting very close on the sofa. I shrieked, grabbed the ice water from the table, and splashed it onto Clara’s face. “You home-wrecker, are you that desperate for a man?!” She recoiled in surprise, shot a glance at a bodyguard, then pulled out her phone and started filming. “So, you’re Dr. Naughton’s pampered wife?” Clara’s eyes were contemptuous, her words deeply insulting. “Truly, seeing is believing! It’s bad enough you ruin your husband at home, but you come out here pretending to be the wronged wife and hitting people! What? He can’t have a normal social life?” I continued to scream and struggle, accusing her of coveting a married man. Alan looked bewildered, simultaneously blocking the camera and shouting at me: “Mia! What are you doing! Why are you suddenly bursting in and making a scene like this?!” “You lied to me! You said you were going for emergency surgery!” I cried hysterically. But the bodyguard’s strength was too great; I couldn’t break free. Two hours later. Clara posted the video online. #RenownedDoctorCaughtWithMistressByCrazyWife# #WifeThrowsFitLikeMadDog# … The hashtags quickly soared to the top of trending topics in our city. The entire internet was mocking me. Saying I had paranoid delusions and wasn’t good enough for Alan. He looked at me, sitting blank-eyed on the sofa, then suddenly slapped himself twice. “Mia, I’m sorry… I ruined you.” He knelt before me, sobbing uncontrollably, revealing the whole truth. It turned out he had long grown tired of the stagnant salary at the public hospital and wanted to strike out on his own, opening his private clinic. But he lacked startup capital. He disliked the nickname “Sterling family’s kept man” and didn’t want to ask me for money, so he had to find other ways. Clara was the daughter of a Thorne Group executive; she had resources and was willing to provide funding. Tonight, he was meeting her at the club to discuss the collaboration plan in detail, which was why he had no choice but to go. “If I had known you would misunderstand, thinking we were having a secret rendezvous, I would have told you the whole truth right then!” “I’m sorry, I was just too concerned about your feelings! I knew you minded her, and I was afraid you’d be upset if you knew I was meeting her, that it would ruin your birthday, so I found another excuse to leave…” “I messed up, I was too clever for my own good… Mia, hit me! Just don’t look at those comments, please!” I understood his pride, and I knew he hadn’t intentionally meant to hurt me. The pain, finding no outlet, left me only with silence. Later, Alan took extended leave from the hospital. Ignoring the public criticism, he stayed by my side at home, caring for me constantly. He cooked for me, coaxed me to sleep, and endured my occasional emotional breakdowns. I gradually improved, and we became even closer. I wondered if it was a blessing in disguise. 4 I still couldn’t help it. I threw up the noodles I’d just eaten, along with the multicolored pills, all into the toilet. The pills hadn’t had time to digest, their edges covered in murky white foam. For the past two weeks, Alan had been seeking out doctors and medicines everywhere, prescribing me a large quantity of psychiatric drugs. I took them on time every day, always feeling drowsy and muddled. My memory began to decline, and I couldn’t even walk steadily. The voice in my head came in snatches, like a fog. [Please maintain… emotional stability…] With the pills completely expelled, my mind cleared. I propped myself up by the sink: Was this still the spirited second daughter of the Sterling family from before? I splashed cold water on my face, forcing myself awake. One in the morning. The fingerprint lock clicked, and Alan returned. It wasn’t the sound of one set of footsteps, but two. I like a cat lurking in the dark, slipped silently out of bed and pressed myself against the master bedroom door. The motion-sensor light in the hallway flickered on. I saw two intertwined figures, stumbling into the room next door. A few seconds later. Nauseating gasps and the tearing of clothes penetrated the wall, stabbing into my eardrums. “Alan… don’t be so rough!” The woman’s voice was seductively soft. Even though it differed from her usual style, I easily recognized it. It was the voice I had heard since childhood. It was my closest, most trusted sister! My own sister, and my beloved husband, were fervently entwined in the guest room less than three meters from me. “I’ve waited so long, how can I slow down?” Alan gasped, his voice already trembling with passion, completely devoid of any cold aloofness. “Gentle! Mia’s right next door, aren’t you afraid of waking her?” My sister laughed playfully. “Afraid of what?” Alan’s voice was incredibly certain. “She took double her dose tonight; she’s probably sleeping like a log. Even if we dragged her out and sold her, she wouldn’t know.” After a creaking sound, my sister chuckled softly. “I just said it casually back then, and you made it happen for me? Mia still thinks she’s the chosen one, tied to some novel’s system, right?” I pressed against the wall, my breathing stopped. “It was just a medical experiment, darling. Heaven blessed you and let it succeed,” Alan responded proudly. “She’s such a fool, doing tasks according to your demands for some illusory ‘conquest progress’!” What did that mean?! All those times I suppressed my true self, trying to conform to his every whim, were actually my sister’s demands? “Why does she always have such good luck? Why does she get all the good things? I’m going to make her go insane! Only then will Mom and Dad give up on her, and the Sterling family… oh my!” My sister’s complaints were silenced by his kiss, initiating a new round of passion. I stumbled backward in shock, unable to listen anymore. Compared to the pain of being betrayed by my closest kin, I cared more about something else. So… No conquest system. No mistress named Clara. It was all fake?!

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My boyfriend told me he firmly believed in “bros before hoes.” He also told me he only had one ultimate, lifelong bro, named Riley. And that this bro didn’t live in our city. Because I was blinded by my boyfriend’s insanely good looks, I put up with it. After all, they just texted and played video games every night. But then, I found out that this “bro” he talked to day in and day out—was a girl. 01 When Carter Hayes told me “bros before hoes,” I looked at his face—which was as flawlessly sculpted as a Greek statue—and swallowed the words “let’s break up” right back down my throat. My name is Chloe Bennett. Like a lot of college girls, I have a massive weak spot for a pretty face. Whether my boyfriend actually had a working brain was, for me, a secondary requirement. Carter was a senior at my university. His dating history was completely blank, and his life’s only passion was soccer. He played real soccer with the varsity guys on the weekends, and played FIFA on his phone during the week. Aside from being a little too obsessed with the sport, he was virtually perfect. Until that dinner party. He told me ahead of time that Riley was coming down from their hometown to visit, and bringing their local soccer team for a friendly scrimmage with Carter’s team. Two full teams, plus “plus-ones,” made 34 people. We rented out the entire second floor of a popular sports bar near campus, taking up four huge tables. Unfortunately, my professor held me back after class that day, so I was almost an hour late. The second I walked upstairs, my eyes zeroed in on a stranger sitting right next to Carter. She was skinny, wearing an oversized black graphic tee, with a choppy, messy pixie cut. Other than her, the entire table was entirely unfamiliar guys playing loud drinking games. The girl, meanwhile, was holding a vape and aggressively playing a rapid-fire shot game with Carter. Any girl who dares to rock a haircut like that is usually stunning, and she was no exception. In other words, the moment I walked up, I saw a beautiful girl sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with my boyfriend. The chair on his other side was empty. I walked straight over and sat down. Carter’s eyes were entirely glued to the girl’s hands for the drinking game. He didn’t even notice I had arrived. “Hey! Little girl! What are you doing? That’s the missus’s seat!” the girl suddenly barked at me. I stood up instinctively. “Can’t you see all the food I saved for her?!” the girl motioned to a plate piled high with appetizers. Saving me food was the glorious result of me training my dense, oblivious boyfriend. Only then did Carter snap out of his trance and turn his head. The moment he saw me, a gentle, familiar smile bloomed across his gorgeous face. I immediately decided to let the girl’s attitude slide. “Who are you barking at, idiot? This is your bro’s girlfriend! Call her your sister!” Carter pulled me down into the seat, scolding the girl. Then he turned to me. “Chloe, this is my bro, Riley Walsh. She got kicked in the head by a donkey as a kid, just ignore her.” “You got kicked by a donkey, you absolute dog! Actually, no, you got kicked by a pig!” Riley cursed, reaching over and violently twisting Carter’s ear. “Ow! You dare twist your father’s ear? You ungrateful son!” Carter winced, verbally fighting back. Meanwhile, my mind was reeling. Riley was a girl??? I had heard Riley’s voice through Carter’s headset more than once. It was always a gruff, raspy male voice, completely different from the sweet, clear tone she was using right now. Because of that, I had never once doubted Riley’s gender. “Are you really Riley? The voice I heard before didn’t sound like this,” I blurted out. “Oh, you mean this voice?” Riley seamlessly switched to the exact deep, raspy male voice I remembered. “Your bro does voice acting, what do you think?” “Holy shit!” “That voice sounds manlier than I do!” Carter’s friends were instantly blown away by her party trick, clicking their tongues in awe. “…” I was speechless. It felt like I had just swallowed a dead fly. Suddenly, Riley stood up, walked behind my chair, and clapped her hands tightly over my eyes. “Don’t move! Hand over all your valuables!” She used the deep, raspy man voice again. Her hands were incredibly rough and heavy, pressing so hard I felt like my eyeballs were going to pop out. At that exact moment, I confirmed it: I had encountered the legendary, final-boss “Pick-Me” girl. I didn’t hold back. I flashed my freshly manicured, razor-sharp acrylic nails and dug them right into her hands, leaving a nice little souvenir. “Fuck! Man, you’ve got lethal weapons on you! Women just can’t take a joke!” Riley retracted her claws, switching back to her normal voice. “Does my bro like them wild now? You’re a lucky guy, Carter! Tell us about it!” Hearing this, the entire table of guys instantly perked up. “Carter doesn’t like them wild, he likes them wildin’ out!” “Yeah, this guy had a new girl around him every week back in high school!” “Keep your voice down! Look at his girlfriend’s face, she looks pissed!” … I finally realized this table was full of Carter’s high school buddies. “Knock it off, Chloe is shy. She’s not shameless like you animals,” Carter interrupted them with a grin. “Yeah, yeah!” Riley chimed in loudly. “We’ve got a ‘female dependent’ at the table now, watch your mouths, guys!” Saying that, she pointedly glanced at the next table over. I noticed a few unfamiliar girls looking our way. Their eyes were locked on Riley, and none of them looked friendly. Obviously, these were the other “female dependents” Riley was mocking. The guys, of course, were completely oblivious to this silent warfare. The topic was dropped, and they went right back to drinking and yelling. I was hungry, so I started eating the food Carter had saved for me. Riley started whispering to Carter, but at a volume where I could hear every single word. “Is she mad? Aren’t you gonna coax her?” Hearing this, Carter picked a chicken wing out of the leftovers on the table and put it on my plate, but kept his eyes entirely on Riley. “Chloe isn’t petty like that.” “I don’t believe it! Unless you ask her for permission to hang out right now!” Riley pushed relentlessly. “Watch me! Wanna bet?” Carter was instantly hooked. I was completely lost, but the phrase “ask for permission” created an atmosphere that aggressively excluded me, and it pissed me off. “I bet you fifty bucks!” Riley looked thrilled. “Pfft! You’re on!” Carter turned to me. “Chloe, tomorrow morning I’m taking these idiots to hike Echo Peak. I am officially requesting a hall pass! Please approve!” “…” My speechlessness was reaching astronomical levels. Carter had never, ever spoken to me like this before. But with thirty guys watching, I couldn’t embarrass him. So I asked, “Can I come with you guys?” “We’re not doing plus-ones this time!” Riley cleanly and decisively rejected me on Carter’s behalf. I looked at Carter. He actually looked conflicted. “Echo Peak is a pretty brutal hike. Chloe, are you sure you want to go? Why don’t you go shopping with Madison tomorrow?” he asked. Madison was a name I had heard a few times; she was another high school classmate and apparently the girlfriend of one of the guys at the table. “But I really want to go! I’ve never been to Echo Peak! Plus, I can run a half-marathon, I can definitely make it to the top!” I put on my most innocent, harmless expression. The advantage of a Pick-Me girl is her ability to blend in as “one of the boys,” but her fatal flaw is that she can never play the fragile, delicate card! Sure enough, the guys at the table started advocating for me. “Just let her come! Otherwise it’s gonna be boring with Riley as the only girl!” The guy who spoke wore glasses and had a face absolutely covered in severe cystic acne. If he wasn’t so tough to look at, I would have kissed him right then and there! Riley’s expression instantly darkened. Another guy with bleached blonde hair added, “Riley doesn’t count as a girl! She’s as flat as an ironing board front and back!” The whole table erupted into roaring laughter. Through the laughter, I caught Riley glaring daggers at me. “Of course we want you to come! Just make sure you wear sneakers, and oh, definitely don’t wear a skirt!” Riley put her loud, carefree mask back on, pretending to be thoughtfully advising me. … The next morning at 7:00 AM, everyone gathered at the base of Echo Peak. Riley showed up late. When I saw her, I almost coughed up blood—she was wearing a microscopic camouflage mini-skirt! So short it barely qualified as clothing! 02 When he saw her, Carter’s grip on my hand noticeably tightened. I looked at him and realized he looked genuinely angry. “Did you leave your brain at the hotel, you idiot?!” He stormed over, ripped off his own oversized windbreaker, and aggressively wrapped it around Riley’s waist. “I spilled milk on my pants at breakfast! I only packed one pair of pants and one skirt! What was I supposed to do, ghost you guys?!” Riley said pitifully. She pulled his jacket on and zipped it all the way up. The visual effect was even weirder now. Carter’s massive jacket looked like a dress on her, making it look like she wasn’t wearing pants at all! I was frozen in shock. Carter had wrapped his jacket around her so naturally, and she accepted it so intimately. Standing together, they looked like a perfectly harmonious couple. And I looked like a clown. I stood completely still. The acne-covered guy spoke up. “Riley, you had thirty minutes to be late, but you didn’t have time to buy a new pair of pants?” “Tyler Vance! You just can’t stand me, can you? You’re mad because you suck and you’re permanently benched, so you pick fights with me all day!” Riley easily deflected the topic. So the acne guy’s name was Tyler Vance. Hearing this, his face flushed bright red. “So what if I’m a sub? You’re good, so you start, that’s fine. I’m talking about you showing up late!” I already knew Riley was their team’s starting goalie, and Tyler, apparently, was the backup. A skinny girl like that as a men’s goalie? And she was actually good??? Riley ignored him and waved her hand. “Alright, stop acting like my mom!” The blonde guy chimed in, “Let’s just go. Stop arguing, or we’ll miss the Halo Cloud.” The group finally started hiking up the stone steps. Carter and Riley fell to the very back of the pack. I waited for him to walk up and reached out my hand. He grabbed it. I secretly picked up my pace, pulling us away from Riley. “Trying to show off, huh? Don’t burn yourself out and ask me to carry you later!” Carter’s competitive side was triggered. He sped up, stubbornly staying one half-step ahead of me. “I won’t!” I walked even faster. Riley was left behind, all by herself. The “Halo Cloud” was the major attraction at Echo Peak. Every afternoon around 3:00 PM, a perfect, swirling ring of clouds formed over the summit. People romanticized it as a flock of magical birds forming a bridge. Personally, I had zero interest in hiking a mountain to see something I could just look at on Instagram. The only reason I dragged out my hiking boots and athletic gear was pure, unadulterated territorial panic. When we were halfway up the mountain, a sharp “Ouch!” echoed from about fifty yards behind us. Without a doubt, Riley was acting up again. Carter immediately tried to turn around. I grabbed his arm. “Don’t look back!” “Stop messing around!” Carter tapped my nose affectionately, but then turned and sprinted down the stairs without a second thought. I stood frozen in place, so angry I felt like I was losing my mind. Five minutes later, Carter came trudging up the stairs, panting heavily, with Riley on his back. It took every ounce of self-control I had not to kick them both down the mountain. Carter’s hands were gripping the backs of Riley’s bare, pale thighs. “What happened to her?” I avoided looking at that glaring expanse of skin and asked Carter directly. “Sprained my ankle,” Riley answered for him. “Chloe, I gotta borrow your boyfriend for a bit! You don’t mind, right?” “…” I was about to explode, but right then, Tyler came jogging down the stairs. “What are you guys doing? We were resting up ahead, did a headcount, and realized we were missing three people!” he yelled. When he got closer, he immediately saw Riley on Carter’s back. “What happened to you? You have a stroke?” “Tyler, if you don’t know how to speak, shut up. I sprained my ankle. You happy now? You finally get to get off the bench!” Riley sneered. “I’m not exactly celebrating, but what’s the deal with you riding on another girl’s boyfriend?” Tyler glanced at me. “I sprained my ankle! Are you deaf?! If he doesn’t carry me, are you gonna do it?!” Riley snapped aggressively. “We’re only halfway up. You expect Carter to carry you to the summit?” Tyler asked the exact question I wanted to ask. “It’s fine, this idiot is light as a piece of paper!” Carter said, trying to act macho. “Put me down for a sec! I think Chloe looks a little mad!” Riley whispered right next to Carter’s ear, but at a volume where all of us could hear it clearly. Carter obediently set her down. “Chloe, you aren’t actually mad, are you? Listen, I’ve known Carter for almost twenty years. If we were gonna happen, you wouldn’t even be in the picture! We’re pure bros. Ride or die!” Riley slapped my shoulder hard. “Carter always told me you were super chill! Don’t be so petty!” She hit me hard. I was balancing on the edge of a stone step. My center of gravity shifted, and I instantly tumbled backward. Thankfully, Tyler had fast reflexes and caught me by the arm. Still, I twisted my left ankle awkwardly. “Are you okay?!” Carter rushed toward me. “I’m fine.” I waved him off, sitting down on a step to check my left ankle. “Fuck! I didn’t mean to do that! Chloe, don’t twist this into something else! It was an accident!” Riley hopped over on one foot. “I’ll carry you down,” Carter said, reaching out to pull me up. “What about me?!” Riley was instantly unhappy. “I came all this way to see the Halo Cloud!” “Uh…” Carter hesitated. He was fucking hesitating?! I was so furious I thought I might spontaneously combust. “It’s fine, I can walk.” I stood up. “I haven’t seen the Halo Cloud either!” “Tyler, you’re strong. Why don’t you carry Chloe?” Riley suddenly suggested. “Did you really leave your brain at home today?!” Carter whipped his head around and roared at Riley. “Then what do you suggest we do?!” Riley screamed right back at him. Carter went silent. He was actually considering Riley’s suggestion?! “Can you carry me? Wanna try?” I held my hand out to Tyler. This guy had been sneaking glances at me since dinner. I knew he wouldn’t reject me. I don’t normally use people’s crushes to my advantage, but I was forced into a corner. I would just have to buy him dinner to apologize later! Tyler paused, then turned around and easily hoisted me onto his back. “Wow, you’re really light,” he commented. Without another word, he started marching up the stone steps. Behind us, there was dead silence. 03 Carter’s explosive roar finally echoed about fifteen seconds later, by which point Tyler had carried me up at least twenty steps. Tyler’s hands weren’t touching my legs; he was awkwardly but respectfully hooking his wrists beneath my knees. His careful, gentlemanly posture—compared to Carter’s hands completely clamped onto Riley’s bare thighs—made a wave of intense sadness wash over me. Carter’s voice cracked from yelling so loud. “Tyler, what the fuck are you doing?! I thought we were bros!” Tyler turned his head and said evenly, “Carter, isn’t this a massive double standard? You can carry other girls, but your girlfriend can’t be carried by someone else?” Carter and Riley were still standing at the bottom. Carter’s face was beet red. “Riley is different! I don’t treat her like a girl!” I realized for the first time that when Carter was angry, his face didn’t look like a statue at all. It was ugly. Hideous, even. Tyler had suddenly become my ultimate spokesperson: “Whether she’s a girl or not is an objective fact. It doesn’t change just because you say so. You have a girlfriend. Shouldn’t you consciously keep your distance from other girls?” Carter was completely speechless, but Riley suddenly cursed, “Tyler, you bastard! You just have to oppose me at every turn, don’t you? You’re just doing this because I rejected you! A guy as petty as you deserves to have a ruined, deformed face!” The moment she said that, I felt Tyler’s entire body flinch. He instantly went dead silent. So Riley was telling the truth? Tyler didn’t have a crush on me… he was lashing out because he got rejected by Riley?! I felt incredibly awkward and struggled a bit. Tyler gently set me down. But wait, what did “ruined, deformed face” mean? “What did you say?” Carter was clearly out of the loop. He looked at Tyler in shock. “Since when did you go after Riley?” “I never went after her! I hate loud, obnoxious girls like her!” Tyler frowned at Riley. “I’m not like Carter, I’m not that stupid. Your little tricks don’t work on me!” “If you say you didn’t, then you didn’t!” Riley sneered, rolling her eyes so hard I thought they’d get stuck in her head. I felt suspicious again. This was a classic smear tactic. If a pretty girl falsely claims an ugly guy pursued her, the guy has absolutely zero way to defend himself. Society will always believe her. So, knowing Riley’s toxic personality, I started believing Tyler again. Wait a second! Riley was simultaneously claiming Tyler chased her, while practically wrapping herself around Carter. What kind of twisted psychological game was this? Carter wouldn’t let it go. “Now that I think about it, you two were acting shady for a while! Wow, Tyler, you animal! You wouldn’t even spare your own bro!” Tyler looked at me for some reason. He opened his mouth, but didn’t say a word. “This is so fucking lame! I don’t want to hike anymore!” Riley looked at Carter. “I’ll give you a chance to redeem yourself. Carry your bro down the mountain!” Carter stole a glance at me. Seeing I wasn’t speaking, he cleared his throat. “Chloe, um… why don’t you wait for me here? Tyler, do me a favor and stay with Chloe for a bit!” Tyler countered, “What, aren’t you afraid I’ll run off with your precious Chloe?” Carter punched him lightly on the shoulder. “We’re bros, what kind of nonsense is that?” Riley chimed in with a sarcastic drawl, “Tyler! Do you not own a mirror? Chloe is gorgeous. Even if she was blind, she wouldn’t settle for you!” Carter hurriedly covered Riley’s mouth. “Can you shut the fuck up for one second? We’re all friends here, do you have to stab people where it hurts?” Riley let him cover her mouth, rolled her eyes, and stayed quiet. I looked at Tyler. His expression barely shifted. Maybe guys really didn’t care about insults to their appearance as much as girls did? “It’s settled then! Thanks, bro! I’ll take Riley back to the hotel and come right back to find you guys! I’ll run fast, I won’t let my baby miss the Halo Cloud! Okay?” Carter promised. Okay my ass. I felt like I couldn’t control my tears anymore, but crying in front of a Pick-Me girl was too humiliating. Right now, I just wanted these two out of my sight as fast as possible. I turned my back to them and replied, “Okay.” I was certain even an idiot could tell how furious I was, but Carter somehow didn’t. There was some rustling behind me. Obviously, Carter was putting Riley back on his back. Faintly, I heard him say, “Hold on tight.” And I stood there like an ostrich, too afraid to turn around and look. My heart was filled with more shock than sadness. I had dated this guy for over two years, and only today did I realize what an absolute moron he was. Was this man even worth keeping? My chest felt like it was stuffed with cotton. I could barely breathe. “They’re gone,” Tyler said softly. Only then did I turn around. They were completely out of sight. Instead, a couple of strangers were walking up the stairs toward us, holding hands. They raised their joined hands over my head, passing by with soft giggles and whispers. That was how you were supposed to climb Echo Peak. My eyes got blurry again. “Do you still want to hike?” Tyler asked me. “Did you really try to get with Riley?” I wiped my tears and asked him instead. “No. She pursued me. I rejected her.” Tyler sighed. “She probably felt humiliated, which is why she’s been targeting me lately.” “She chased you?! Do you… have proof?” This was too bizarre, I couldn’t believe it. “Proof… do her DMs count?” Tyler scratched his head. “Yes!” I nodded vigorously. And so, I looked at Tyler and Riley’s chat history: Riley: “You up? Bro’s buying you noodles!” (Riley initiated a voice call) Tyler: “Saturday is my only day to sleep in. Ask Jackson to go with you. I don’t eat breakfast on Saturdays, please don’t ask me again, thanks.” Riley: “Idiot! If you skip breakfast you’ll get gallstones!” (Tyler didn’t reply) (Three hours later) Riley: “What are you doing? Bro will carry your rank in League!” Tyler: “Busy. Next time. Thanks.” … I scrolled up. Starting a year ago, besides a mandatory ‘good morning’ and ‘good night’, Riley sent him a dozen messages like this every single day. This went on for three months. Asking to eat, game, play soccer, study, even get haircuts together! Tyler rarely replied. When he did, he was ice cold. Out of 20 invites, he maybe showed up once, and only when the whole team was there. “Um…” I hesitated before asking, “Are you like, a secret billionaire heir or something?” For Riley to chase him this desperately, considering his… physical appearance… that was the only logical conclusion. “Just a normal family. My dad owns a small company.” Tyler blushed. “Honestly, I shouldn’t be showing you another girl’s private messages. It’s messed up. But to prove my innocence, I had to.” I stared at him. Even though his face was a disaster, his eyes were incredibly clear and earnest. Tyler was so genuine, he felt like a rare, endangered species! And he definitely liked me! Otherwise, why would he care about proving his innocence?! But no matter how genuine he was, it couldn’t hide his heavy, bulky frame and the severe acne covering his face! I cursed myself for being such a superficial monster. “You should expose her! She was clearly the one chasing you!” I faked righteous indignation to hide my shallow thoughts. “Forget it. She’s a girl, she has her pride. Plus, she never actually said the words ‘I like you,’ she just constantly bothered me,” Tyler said. I rolled my eyes internally. A girl like that would never explicitly confess! She manipulates you until you confess! But I couldn’t tell Tyler that, or I’d sound like I was stirring up drama. “Don’t look at me like that. Honestly, I used to be… not this ugly.” Tyler must have noticed the slight judgment in my eyes. His voice dropped as he opened his photo album to show me. “Look. I only started gaining all this weight a few months ago.” Tyler flipped through the album. “That’s YOU?!” I shrieked. In the photo, an incredibly hot guy was showing off shredded six-pack abs. Angel face, devil body. I looked closely—the facial structure was exactly the same, just much leaner. And in the photo, his skin was flawless. Not a single blemish.

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