Category: English

When I checked out of my hotel, the receptionist handed me two invoices. The first was for eight hundred dollars—the cost of my own room. The second invoice was for thirty-eight thousand dollars. “Mr. Lin, this is the final balance for the fifty-two suites your wife booked for your wedding party. She said you would be settling the bill.” The receptionist offered a polite, professional smile. Her voice carried, and absolutely everyone in the hotel lobby heard her. I stared at the two pieces of paper resting side by side on the marble counter. One standard room. My room. One luxury presidential suite, quantity: 52. The problem? I was single. I did not have a wife. And I absolutely had not hosted a wedding. “I am not married. Whoever booked this, you need to find them.” I grabbed the handle of my suitcase, ready to walk away. But the receptionist raised her voice, stopping me in my tracks. “Mr. Lin, you had the money to throw a massive wedding, but you do not have the money to pay the final bill?” Every single guest waiting in the checkout line turned to look at me. People started whispering to each other. I did not waste my breath arguing. I pulled out my phone and dialed immediately. “Hello, I need police assistance at the Grand Horizon Hotel. A receptionist is attempting to extort thirty-eight thousand dollars from me.” “Also, please contact the local Consumer Protection Bureau. This hotel is engaging in aggressive, fraudulent billing practices.” 1 I frowned at the receptionist and pushed the invoice back across the counter. “I did not get married. I did not book these rooms. Why would I pay for this?” Her professional smile did not waver. “You are Mr. Nick Lin, correct?” “Yes.” She continued smoothly, “You stayed in room 1806 for the past three nights, correct?” “Yes.” My frown deepened. I despised having my personal information broadcasted in public. Still smiling, she slid the invoice back toward me. “Then there is no mistake. This is your wedding banquet bill. Look, your wife even left a handwritten note and signature for you!” I looked down at the scribbled handwriting at the bottom of the page. Hubby, I am taking our relatives back to our hometown first. Do not forget to pay the final balance! — Chloe. My face darkened. “I do not know anyone named Chloe.” “I do not have a wife.” The receptionist’s smile slipped slightly, replaced by a tone of exasperated patience. “Mr. Lin, we are only asking you to pay because of your wife’s explicit instructions.” “Your family booked dozens of rooms for your relatives to attend your wedding. Now you are suddenly claiming you do not have a wife? That is a very low blow.” The crowd around the front desk was growing by the minute. I was trapped in the center of a very public spectacle. “If Chloe left the note, then you can wait for Chloe to come back and pay it.” Her tone remained strictly professional. “Mr. Lin, it is not our place to get involved in your domestic disputes.” “But taking out your marital anger on our hotel by refusing to pay is unacceptable.” I let out a cold laugh. “You keep insisting I threw a wedding at this hotel. Where is the proof?” “Who did you communicate with? Who organized the logistics?” Her smile stiffened. “Your wife coordinated everything with us. She wanted to handle the details so you would not be stressed.” I stared at her, deadpan. “I am a tourist visiting this city alone. I have never been married.” A mocking edge crept into her voice. “Mr. Lin, you are trying very hard to deny this. Could it be that you have someone else in your life who cannot know you are married?” The moment she said that, the crowd in the lobby erupted into loud murmurs. A middle-aged man standing behind me shot me a look of pure disgust. “No wonder he is fighting it so hard. Sounds like he has a mistress he is trying to hide.” The receptionist maintained her perfect posture, though her smile was now laced with open irritation. “Mr. Lin, stalling is not going to make this go away.” She tapped her manicured fingernail against the thirty-eight-thousand-dollar invoice. A rhinestone on her nail caught the lobby lights, flashing obnoxiously. “Your wife left explicit instructions. We are simply following our client’s orders.” I looked at her. “This Chloe woman. Have you actually met her?” She paused for a second. “Of course I have. She booked the rooms in person. I handled her reservation myself.” “What does she look like?” She thought for a moment. “Pretty tall. Around five-foot-five. She was wearing a white summer dress.” “How old?” “Early thirties, maybe.” “Did you scan her ID?” “Obviously. Our hotel requires real-name registration for all bookings.” “Then pull up her ID profile and let me see it.” The receptionist’s smile vanished completely. “Mr. Lin, that would be a violation of guest privacy…” “You just spent ten minutes screaming that she is my wife. How is looking at my own wife’s ID a privacy violation?” She choked on her words, completely stumped. When she finally looked at me again, her tone had turned ice cold. “Mr. Lin, this little game is getting old.” “If you do not pay that bill today, you are not leaving this lobby.” 2 I leaned against the marble counter, staring her down. “Are you threatening me?” “I have never been married. I do not know a Chloe. I never hosted a wedding, and I never invited any relatives.” “Whoever paid you the deposit is the person you need to chase for the balance.” The receptionist, whose name tag read Sarah, finally dropped the polite act. Her mouth pulled into a tight line. “Mr. Lin, let me be completely honest with you.” “When Ms. Chloe booked these rooms, she provided your exact name and phone number.” “She told us you were the groom. She said that after the wedding, she needed to escort her elderly relatives back to her hometown, and that you would settle the final bill.” “She said you two had agreed on this arrangement.” “We approved the payment plan as a courtesy to our VIP clients.” “The wedding happened. The rooms were used. Now you are trying to dine and dash. Do you really think you can get away with this?” I kept my eyes locked on hers and took a slow, deep breath. “Fine. Tell me exactly what day this supposed wedding took place.” “The day before yesterday.” “Which banquet hall?” “The Grand Ballroom on the third floor.” “How many guests attended?” “Over two hundred.” “What color was the bride’s dress?” Sarah frowned deeply. “How am I supposed to remember that?” “You just said you coordinated everything with her. You handled a two-hundred-person wedding, and you do not remember what color the bride was wearing?” Sarah opened her mouth, then snapped it shut. The people waiting in line behind me were getting restless. “Can we speed this up?” a man yelled from the back. “I have a train to catch!” A woman whispered to her friend, “That poor guy. His wife runs off right after the wedding and leaves him drowning in debt.” “Poor? He is just trying to skip out on the bill! Thirty-eight grand is a lot of money.” “Still, you cannot just rob a hotel.” The gossip buzzed in the air like a swarm of angry bees. I glanced over my shoulder. There were about seven or eight people in my line. Some were scrolling on their phones, some were staring at me like I was a zoo animal, and others were actively debating my morals. Right behind me was a guy in a tracksuit, gripping two massive suitcases, looking furious at the delay. Next to him was an older woman with a tight perm. She was looking at me like I was a deadbeat son-in-law. “Young man, you need to be reasonable,” she scolded loudly. “Your wife planned the wedding. She booked the hotel. You cannot just refuse to pay because you two had a little lovers’ spat.” I looked her dead in the eye. “Ma’am, I do not know who that woman is.” “Oh, please! If she does not know you, how did she know your exact name?” “That is exactly what I would like to know.” The older woman shook her head in disgust, muttering about how irresponsible men were these days. Seeing that the crowd was on her side, Sarah’s tone softened, playing the victim. “Mr. Lin, look around. Everyone is watching.” “Making a massive scene is only going to embarrass you further.” “How about this? You pay half the bill now, and we will contact Ms. Chloe for the rest?” I almost laughed out loud. “Why on earth would I pay half?” “I am not married. I am not paying a single dime for a wedding I did not have.” Sarah sighed heavily, like a tired mother dealing with a spoiled toddler. “Mr. Lin, you keep claiming you are not married. Can you prove it?” The lobby went dead silent. I stared at her. “Prove that I am not married?” “Exactly.” Sarah smiled, a smug, victorious gleam in her eyes. “You see? You cannot prove a negative.” “Our hotel operates on hard evidence.” “Ms. Chloe provided your name and phone number. We verified your ID at check-in, and it was a perfect match.” “The wedding happened. The suites were occupied.” “And now you think you can just say ‘I am not married’ and walk away free?” “Mr. Lin, the real world does not work like that.” Looking at her arrogant smirk, it suddenly hit me. She was gambling. She was betting that I would be too embarrassed by the public humiliation and would just pay the thirty-eight grand to save face. It was pure profit for them. And if I refused, she would rally the entire lobby into believing I was a scumbag fraud. It was a classic trap. I pulled my suitcase closer, locked the wheels, and sat down right on top of it. “Alright. Then I will wait.” Sarah blinked, caught off guard. “Wait for what?” I pulled out my phone and held it up. “I just called the cops. I am waiting for them to arrive so I can report a thirty-eight-thousand-dollar extortion ring at the Grand Horizon Hotel.” 3 The smug confidence on Sarah’s face cracked. “Mr. Lin, what are you doing?” “Do you really think calling the cops means you can skip out on your bill?” Her voice wavered, but she was trying desperately to maintain control. I flashed her a dark smile. “I guess we will find out when they get here.” A sharp snort of laughter broke the tension. It came from a young guy wearing headphones standing a few spots back in line. He glanced at me, realized everyone was looking, and quickly pretended to be fascinated by his phone. Sarah glared at him before taking a sharp, hissing breath. “Mr. Lin, do you really think this is a game?” “Do you think sitting on your luggage like a child is going to solve your financial problems?” I looked up at her from my suitcase. “Do you think forcing a thirty-eight-thousand-dollar fake invoice on me is going to solve yours?” Sarah’s expression hardened into pure granite. She turned to the junior receptionist working next to her. “Go get me a glass of water.” The younger girl scrambled away immediately. Sarah leaned against the front desk, crossed her arms over her chest, and glared down at me. “Mr. Lin, I have been working in hospitality for eight years.” “I have seen every type of scammer walk through those doors.” “People who dine and dash. People who claim their wallets were stolen. People who pretend to have amnesia.” “But a man who denies the existence of his own wife over a hotel bill? You are a first for me.” I laughed. “And this is a first for me. A hotel that assigns me a wife just to extort thirty-eight grand.” Sarah’s face flushed dark red. “Mr. Lin, you need to watch your mouth. Do not make accusations you cannot back up with evidence.” “Show me your evidence, then.” “Ms. Chloe’s ID registration, the wedding photos, the banquet catering receipts, the liquor tab, and your check-in logs for room 1806. I can pull all of it up.” The lobby fell into a tense, agonizing silence. People in line started giving up. A few moved to the other receptionist’s desk. Others walked over to the velvet sofas to sit down and watch the drama unfold. Sarah stood behind the counter, aggressively tapping her manicured nails against the marble. I sat on my suitcase, checking my phone. It had been almost twenty minutes since she handed me the insane invoice. No new messages. I scrolled through my contacts and stopped on my mom’s number. I hesitated, then locked my screen. If my mom found out about this, she would be so furious she would probably book the next flight down here just to scream at the manager. Better to handle this myself. Sarah suddenly reached into a drawer and pulled out a piece of paper, sliding it across the counter. “Mr. Lin. Look at this. This is a photocopy of Ms. Chloe’s ID.” I took it. It was a standard black-and-white photocopy of a driver’s license. Name: Chloe Jenkins. The photo showed a woman with a bob haircut, a round face, and thick eyebrows. She looked to be in her early thirties. The address listed was from a completely different state. I stared at it for a second before sliding it back. “Never seen her in my life.” Sarah’s patience completely evaporated. “Mr. Lin!” My patience was gone, too. I cut her off, my voice dropping to a low, dangerous warning. “We will wait for the cops. When they get here, you pull out your evidence, and I will pull out mine.” “If the cops say I owe the money, I will wire it to your account on the spot.” “But if the cops say I do not owe you a single cent, you are going to stand in the middle of this lobby and publicly apologize to me.” Sarah checked her phone. Suddenly, she looked up at me and smiled. It was a cold, victorious smirk. “Mr. Lin. You are not going anywhere.” My stomach dropped slightly. “What does that mean?” Sarah picked up the desk phone and dialed an internal extension. “Chloe? Are you here yet?” She hung up and looked right at me. “Like I said, Mr. Lin. You are paying this bill today, whether you want to or not.” From the long, carpeted hallway behind me, I heard the sharp, rhythmic clicking of high heels against the marble floor. Click. Click. Click. 4 “Sarah? What is going on?” I did not turn around, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw a slender silhouette step out from behind one of the lobby’s massive pillars. It was a woman. Her voice was low, carrying a slight out-of-state accent. Sarah looked at her, then pointed straight at me. “Chloe. Your husband is refusing to pay the bill.” The woman turned to look at me. Her eyes lingered on my face for exactly two seconds. Then, she smiled. It was a completely natural, exasperated smile. The exact kind of smile a wife gives a stubborn, misbehaving husband. “Nick, stop throwing a tantrum.” She walked right up to me and reached for the handle of my suitcase. “Let’s go home.” I took a sharp step back, pulling my luggage with me. “Do not touch me.” Her hand hovered in midair. She blinked in surprise, then let out a heavy, long-suffering sigh. “Nick, I know you are mad at me.” “But my parents are old. They cannot handle a long train ride. I had to drive them and the relatives back home. It was the right thing to do.” “We are married now. All of my savings are tied up in the joint account for the house down payment. Just pay the hotel, and we can go home and talk.” Her acting was flawless. It was so terrifyingly sincere that if I did not know for an absolute fact I had never met her, I might have actually believed her. “Who are you?” I asked sharply. She frowned, looking genuinely hurt. “Nick, you…” “Do not call me Nick.” “I do not know who you are.” She looked at Sarah and gave a helpless, bitter laugh. “See, Sarah? I told you he was just throwing a fit.” Sarah immediately played along, sighing loudly. “Chloe, you cannot really blame him. You left the groom all alone right after the wedding. Any man would be furious.” “I did not have a choice! My side of the family is huge, and my mom insisted I escort them personally.” “You should have communicated better with your husband.” “I tried! I left him a note, I called his cell a dozen times, but he refused to pick up.” The two of them bounced lines off each other like a perfectly rehearsed Broadway script. I looked back and forth between them. It was almost hilarious how insane this was. “Are you two done with the performance?” Sarah turned to me, plastering that fake, professional customer service smile back on her face. “Mr. Lin. Look. Your wife drove all the way back here just to sort this out. If you two have marital issues, please discuss them privately. Do not cause a scene in our lobby.” I stared at the woman claiming to be Chloe. “You are saying you are my wife?” “Yes.” “When did we get married?” “The day before yesterday.” “Where?” “Right here. The Grand Horizon Hotel. Third floor, Grand Ballroom.” “How many guests?” “Two hundred and thirty.” “Were my parents there?” Chloe paused for a fraction of a second. “Of course they were. Your mom, your dad, my parents. Everyone was there.” “What is my mother’s name?” Chloe opened her mouth, but nothing came out. “You married me, but you do not know my mother’s name?” Chloe’s expression hardened. Her eyes narrowed, and her voice dropped to a scolding whisper. “Nick, what exactly are you trying to pull here?” “I asked you a question. What is my mother’s name?” “You are legally my wife, and you do not know your own mother-in-law’s name?” She instantly reverted back to playing the exhausted, victimized wife. “Nick, if you are going to act like a child, I cannot help you.” “I drove all the way to my hometown, dropped off my family, and drove straight back here because I knew you would struggle to handle this alone.” “And you choose to humiliate me in public like this?” “How am I supposed to look these people in the eye?” She spun around, facing the crowd of guests who were still watching the drama unfold. “I am so sorry, everyone. My husband is just acting out. I am sorry we are holding up the line.” Right on cue, the peanut gallery chimed in. “Honey, do not argue with him when he is angry. Just let him cool off,” a woman yelled. “Yeah, men just need their egos stroked. He will get over it,” another chimed in. “Honestly, leaving your husband alone on your wedding night? No wonder he is throwing a tantrum.” Chloe offered the crowd a tragic, apologetic smile. “I know, I know. It is entirely my fault.” She turned back to me, making her voice soft and pleading. “Nick. Stop making a scene. Let’s just go home.” I stared at her, deadpan. “Alright.” Chloe’s eyes lit up. “You will come home with me?” “Show me the marriage certificate.” “What?” “If we got married, there is a legal marriage certificate. Pull it out. Let me see it.” Chloe’s smile completely froze. “The certificate… is back in my hometown.” “Which hometown?” “My parents’ house.” “Call your parents right now. Tell them to take a picture of it and text it to you.” “Are you telling me not a single person in your family knows how to use a smartphone?” Sarah aggressively interrupted. “Mr. Lin, the marriage certificate is a private matter you can handle later. Right now, the priority is settling the hotel balance.” “As you can see, your wife drove hours just to be here. She is being incredibly reasonable—” Before she could finish, Chloe lunged forward. Her hand clamped onto my wrist like a vice grip, and she yanked me violently toward the exit. “Your debit card is in the car, right? I will go with you to get it.” “Stop ruining everyone else’s day! Behave!” Her grip was shockingly strong. For a split second, I actually could not rip my arm away. “I do not know this woman! This is kidnapping! Someone help me!” I shouted. But Sarah and Chloe just laughed it off, playing to the crowd. “He is still throwing a tantrum! So sorry, everyone. We will send up some wedding chocolates to your rooms later as an apology!” Sarah chirped brightly. Not a single person in the lobby moved to help me. They were all completely convinced this was just a toxic newlywed fight. My arm was starting to ache, and my mind was racing. This was a highly organized, premeditated extortion ring. This was not a random scam. I braced my legs, preparing to physically shove her off me, when a voice boomed from the sliding glass doors. “Nobody move! We received a 911 call reporting an attempted kidnapping and extortion!”

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1 After I married Dr. Hayes, every morning at seven, I’d 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. Hayes. 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 Robert’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. Robert walked out, drying his hair, and saw me sitting on the bed, pale, holding the tablet. “Amy, what’s wrong? Feeling unwell?” I turned the tablet and pushed it toward him. Robert’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’?” Robert sat beside me, his voice full of helplessness: “A new colleague who joined our department, her name’s Bethany White. She… has some issues up here.” 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 Bethany’s one-sided barrages. “Dr. Hayes, 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. Robert’s replies were few and far between, and entirely about stiff work matters. I tapped into Bethany’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. Robert smiled bitterly, pulling me into his arms. “Amy, 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, Amy. 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 Robert’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, Robert…” 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. Robert glanced at it, his face instantly changing, and he decisively stood up: “Amy, 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. Hayes 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 Robert made an excuse about an emergency surgery and rushed off. I went straight back to the hospital. Not to find Robert, but to the HR department. “I want to file a formal complaint against Bethany White, 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: “Bethany White? Cardiac surgery? Please wait.” A minute later, he looked up, puzzled: “Are you mistaken? We have no doctor named Bethany White in our hospital system, nor any nurse.” “Impossible!” I raised my voice. “She’s new! She’s in the same department as Robert Hayes, 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. Hayes’s wife?” “Why is she causing a scene here?” “I heard her mental state isn’t very good, always suspicious…” “Poor thing, Dr. Hayes 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, Robert 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, Robert’s eyes reddened. “Amy, I’m sorry… I lied to you.” I looked at him blankly. “Bethany White 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!” Robert 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! Amy, 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 Robert Hayes!” 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 Starcorp Group! A notorious party girl in the social circles.” The day I received the documents from my sister happened to be my birthday. Robert 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. “Amy, 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: “Amy, 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 Robert Hayes at the Cloudhaven Club! He went into a VIP room, and Bethany White 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 Cloudhaven Club following the location. “Bang!” After kicking open the private room door, Robert and Bethany were sitting very close on the sofa. I shrieked, grabbed the ice water from the table, and splashed it onto Bethany’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. Hayes’s pampered wife?” Bethany’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. Robert looked bewildered, simultaneously blocking the camera and shouting at me: “Amy! 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. Bethany 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 Robert. He looked at me, sitting blank-eyed on the sofa, then suddenly slapped himself twice. “Amy, 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. Bethany was the daughter of a Starcorp 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… Amy, 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, Robert 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, Robert 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 Robert returned. It wasn’t the sound of one set of footsteps, but two. Like a cat lurking in the dark, I 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. “Robert… 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?” Robert gasped, his voice already trembling with passion, completely devoid of any cold aloofness. “Gentle! Amy’s right next door, aren’t you afraid of waking her?” My sister laughed playfully. “Afraid of what?” Robert’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? Amy 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,” Robert 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 Bethany. It was all fake?!

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When he said he wouldn’t come home for the holidays, I packed my bags and returned to my hometown alone. When he helped Eleanor rent the apartment next door, I moved my things out. When he decided to take a permanent position at the local college, I applied to a university out in the Pacific Northwest. In my previous life, when we were old and gray, even our two children urged me to divorce him. All so that, after they passed, those two star-crossed lovers could be buried side by side. 1 Looking at the college acceptance letter in my hand, I nearly shed a tear. No one knew that I had been reborn. At the very last minute, I had changed my college application to the Pacific Northwest Engineering Institute. Even my high school counselor, Mr. Harrison, was perplexed. “I thought your fiancé was staying to teach at the local college? If you go so far away for your degree, will he wait for you?” At the mention of Oliver Smith, the image of his tall, youthful figure flashed through my mind. Honestly, everyone thought I was the lucky one to have Oliver. He was ambitious and handsome. I only had the right to stand beside him because of a childhood promise made by our families when we were kids. I smiled and replied loudly, “Mr. Harrison, free love is the trend now!” “That childhood betrothal our families made is just an outdated tradition, it’s got to go!” Perhaps he hadn’t expected me to be so forward-thinking. Mr. Harrison patted my shoulder, his eyes full of approval. Leaving the school, I followed the flow of the crowd toward home. 2 In my past life, I never even went to college. Because just a few days from now was the date set for my wedding to Oliver. Soon after, I got pregnant, and my education ended there. Shortly after Oliver stayed to teach at the college, he was transferred to a government agency. From then on, we lived entirely different lives. Outside, he climbed the corporate ladder. Wherever he went, Eleanor Davis—the star of the local community theater—followed, transferring her job and bringing her daughter along. And me? I was trapped in my little domestic bubble, taking care of his bedridden parents and raising the kids. I watched my son grow from a babbling toddler who clung to me, to a young man who gradually grew distant, drifting step by step toward Oliver. Later, I didn’t even know my son was marrying Eleanor’s daughter until after the wedding was over. I only saw it in a photo shown to me by an old friend. In the picture, as my son and his new bride made a toast, Oliver and Eleanor stood side by side, smiling at each other with undeniable affection. Later still, my son urged me to get a divorce on more than one occasion. He said, “Mom, Dad has suffered his whole life. If it weren’t for you, he’d have been with my mother-in-law long ago.” “Mom, you two don’t match at all. Why can’t you just let go?” Even my daughter-in-law refused to see me. But what could I do? I was so bitter! I was bitter because when my in-laws were paralyzed and I was serving them day and night, he was out playing house with another woman. I was bitter because when my son had a midnight fever, I was in such a panic that I ran three miles barefoot to get the doctor, while he was taking someone else’s woman to piano lessons and helping another man’s daughter with her homework. I was bitter because I had given up everything for this family, only to reach the end and hear… Him say it. Them say it. Everyone say it. We didn’t match. Everyone blamed me. Why couldn’t I just let go? But I refused. The exhaustion of my youth had carved deep trenches into my face, leaving me looking ancient and withered. Even if it killed me, I was going to drag them down with me. As for whether they got together after I died, I didn’t care anymore. I didn’t have the strength to care. Finally, I died right after my son urged me to divorce him one last time. He had talked for hours, and seeing my stubborn silence, he stormed off in anger. What he didn’t know was that before his slamming door even latched, I had a massive heart attack. I called out to him, but he didn’t even look back. In that moment, I felt an overwhelming sense of regret. Why did I ever give birth to him… Why did I throw my entire life away for him? But thankfully, I was reborn. I returned to the days right before my wedding to Oliver. There was still time to change everything. 3 When I got home, I hid the acceptance letter and started making dinner. This two-bedroom apartment was subsidized housing provided by Oliver’s university. While waiting for the water to boil, I found the calendar in the living room. I located the date I needed to report to the university next month and drew a big red circle around it with a pen. I stared at that circled number with longing. Soon. Very soon. Soon, I would be completely free. 4 The food was barely on the table when Oliver walked in. Unsurprisingly, Eleanor was right behind him, holding her daughter’s hand. “I’m so sorry to intrude again,” she said softly. Eleanor was pale and pretty, with an oval face. The bright red trench coat she wore gave her an indescribable charm. The little girl, Lily, was used to coming over. Seeing that I had finished cooking, she cheered and expertly went to serve the mashed potatoes and roast beef. A plate for her, a plate for Oliver, a plate for Eleanor. Only… None for me. By the time I walked out of the kitchen, the three of them were sitting around the table, laughing and talking as if they were a happy family. But as soon as they took a bite, all three spat their food out simultaneously. “Mommy, it’s so salty!” I leaned casually against the kitchen doorframe. I watched Oliver quickly pour a glass of water for both mother and daughter. But the water was heavily salted, too. Finally, Eleanor left in tears. Before walking out, she turned to Oliver and said, “She obviously doesn’t welcome me here. I just won’t come around anymore.” Oliver walked them to the door. When he came back, his brows were tightly knit. I ignored him and went straight to the kitchen to cook myself a fresh meal. “Did you do that on purpose?” Oliver seemed genuinely baffled. Then he started his usual defense. “Her husband died in the line of duty, and he asked me to look after them. You’re a great cook, and Lily loves your food.” Seeing my continued silence, Oliver shook his head, seemingly compromising. “Since you don’t like it, I won’t invite them over for dinner anymore.” 5 The next morning, after Oliver left, I pulled out my duffel bag to pack for a trip back to my rural hometown. Although our parents had promised us to each other, our families had officially exchanged heirlooms. If we were really going to break it off, the engagement had to be annulled with the town elders present, to avoid any messy rumors later. While packing, I saw the quilts and crocheted blankets I had secretly made over the past few years. I thought about it, stuffed them all into a heavy canvas bag—along with some hand-stitched shoes I’d made—and hauled it down to the antique consignment shop at the end of the street. Things I had spent years making sold for a mere thirty dollars. It wasn’t much, but food and rent at college would be a massive expense, and I needed every penny I could save. When I got home, I drew a massive X over today’s date on the calendar. Twenty days left. Just twenty more days, and I could leave this place and start my new life. 6 Oliver came back very late. The dinner I had left out was completely untouched. “I ate at the campus cafeteria,” he explained casually. But smelling the faint, white-tea perfume lingering on his jacket, I knew exactly who he had eaten with. He knew bringing them here would irritate me, so he just took them out to eat instead. I silently cleared the table and went to my room. My room was filled with high school textbooks and test papers. Since they wouldn’t all fit, many were stacked in the living room. I started tying the books in my room together with twine. I planned to pack up the ones in the living room tomorrow when Oliver was at work. Since I was leaving, it wasn’t appropriate to leave anything of mine behind. As I was packing, I heard a knock on my door. I knew it was Oliver. He was always polite to me and would never step foot into my room without my permission. “What is it?” I asked, not wanting him to see me packing. There was silence on the other side for a moment before he spoke. “I’m filling out the marriage license application for City Hall. Does the ninth of next month work for you?” The ninth of next month. The exact day of my wedding in my past life. I glanced at my packed duffel bag and said flatly, “Marriage is a big deal. Let me ask my folks back home tomorrow before we decide.” There was a long silence outside before I finally heard his footsteps walk away. I breathed a sigh of relief and leaned against the headboard. Honestly, with his current status, he didn’t need to consult my family for a marriage license. Since my parents passed away when I was young, Oliver’s parents had taken me in because of our families’ promise. In everyone’s eyes, I was already a part of the Smith family. The paperwork was just a formality. Besides, he was handsome, had a great job, and treated me decently enough. Anyone with eyes could see that my heart had belonged to him for years. It was true that I owed the Smith family. But no matter what, I had already paid off that debt with my entire past life. I owed them nothing anymore. In this life, I was going to walk my own path. A path without Oliver Smith.

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My stutter kept me in a car repair shop for five years. The only person who truly listened to me was my girlfriend of five years, Anna, who lived with me in the run-down city block. To deliver a smooth speech at our wedding, I practiced talking every day with a pebble under my tongue. The day I finally stopped stuttering, I was waxing a car, my mind consumed with images of my wedding to Anna. Suddenly, an arrogant male voice cut through my thoughts: “Hey Stutter Boy, is my car fixed?” It was the owner, here to pick up his car. I gave a strained smile and handed him the keys. As he raised his hand, the diamond watch on his wrist glinted, hurting my eyes. He tossed a stack of hundred-dollar bills on the ground, glancing at me. “Keep the change. My wife’s coming to pick me up.” As I bent to pick up the money, a pair of familiar white stilettos entered my field of vision. “Honey, that half-million dollar limited edition sports watch you mentioned, they have it in stock today.” I instinctively looked up. The moment my eyes met hers, the banknotes scattered from my fingertips. It was Anna, who always claimed to be allergic to motor oil, and had never once set foot in the auto repair shop where I worked. 1 Anna’s gaze lingered on me for barely a second before shifting back to the young man. “There, there, darling. Your wife will get you a year-long membership here.” Dean, with his arms around her, chuckled. “Honey, he’s such a stutterer. He sounds so silly and clumsy when he talks.” Anna giggled, ruffling the boy’s hair. “No one’s as witty as my baby. You’re the biggest chatterbox.” He leaned down and kissed Anna’s forehead, then looked at me with a smirk. “Stutter Boy, why are you always so grimy? Guess you’re only good for dealing with car parts.” My fists clenched tightly, my throat bobbed twice, but I said nothing. Compared to him, I certainly looked grimy. To earn enough for a down payment as quickly as possible, I worked from six in the morning until midnight every day. The broken-down cars in the shop were tough to fix, and I often got scratched and bruised by metal parts, always gritting my teeth to get the job done. Marrying Anna was my most steadfast goal for the past five years. In the five years we’d been together, I only had two pairs of worn-out work clothes to rotate, so I naturally looked rough. “I—” I had just started to question Anna, when her hand slamming a bank card onto the counter interrupted me. “My husband says you’re silly when you talk, so just keep quiet.” “There’s ten thousand in this card. From now on, you’re responsible for servicing his car.” Through the blurry vision in front of me, I thought I saw Anna from when we first got together. Back then, I was so self-conscious I dared not enter stores, afraid people would disdain me for my stutter. She was the one who encouraged me, often patiently listening to me practice speaking for an hour or two, never once showing impatience. Because of her, I found the courage to get a job, and first understood what it felt like to be cherished. But now, she said I was silly when I talked, telling me to keep quiet. I swallowed the bitterness in my throat and nodded. The raw wound under my tongue, chafed by the pebble, throbbed faintly, but it was nothing compared to the dull ache in my heart. Dean looked at his custom shirt, stained with motor oil, frowning and pouting. “Honey, look, this car got oil all over me.” “This shirt is a new limited edition, cost tens of thousands, and now I can’t even wear it.” Anna smiled, leaning in to rub his neck, her voice full of indulgence. “It’s okay. You’re handsome no matter what you wear. I’ll buy you new ones.” The boy pouted, then, wrapping his arm around Anna, he headed out. I stood rooted to the spot, uncontrollably shivering. For five years, before going home, I would shower and change clothes at the shop, terrified of carrying even a hint of gasoline smell. All because Anna said she was allergic to motor oil. A year ago, I was so tired I missed a tiny oil stain on my cuff. Anna saw it and immediately her face fell, she grabbed my blanket, took it to the sofa, then closed the bedroom door. That night, I curled up on the sofa and slept, the next day, I spiked a 104-degree fever. I looked at my faded, twenty-dollar work clothes, and suddenly forced a bitter smile. Laughing at my own foolishness, my own naivety. Turns out, Anna wasn’t allergic to motor oil, she was allergic to me. And in her eyes, I only deserved to wear twenty-dollar clothes. My phone rang. It was a message from Anna. The message was short, just like every other reply from her. [Don’t overthink it. I’ll explain tonight when I get back. Dean is only eighteen, you’d best not say too much in front of him.] Something inside me snapped. Anna, who at 22 told me she’d always listen to me. Anna, who at 24 said she’d marry no one but me. Anna, who at 26 held me and said I was the love of her life. The Anna I knew, she was dead. 2 I dragged my heavy feet out of the shop gate, for the first time, not staying to work overtime. The previously clear sky suddenly opened up with a heavy rain, the icy water drenching me to the bone. I had no umbrella. As I walked home through the downpour, a honk sounded behind me. A Bentley pulled up beside me, the window slowly rolling down. It was Anna. She looked at me, her expression somewhat complicated. “Where are you going? I can give you a ride.” I opened my mouth, about to speak, when Dean, in the passenger seat, stopped her. “Honey, just give him an umbrella.” “Look how dirty he is. What if he messes up our car?” I watched her wavering gaze, saying nothing, like waiting for a verdict whose outcome I already knew. A black umbrella extended from the car, then splat, fell into the mud. Anna turned, placing a kiss on Dean’s forehead. “I’ll listen to my husband. Your wife will take you to buy a watch.” I watched the receding car, my hands trembling as I pulled out my old phone, typing word by word. [Anna, let’s break up.] A sharp screech of brakes suddenly tore through the air. “Look out!” I was violently struck, my body lunging forward and falling to the ground. Warm blood trickled from my forehead, seeping through my lips into my mouth, the metallic taste spreading in my throat. An older woman climbed down from a three-wheeled vehicle, looking at me frantically. “You can’t blame me for this. Blame yourself for being an idiot and not getting out of the way.” She tossed fifty dollars onto me. “Fifty bucks is enough, right? Don’t be so young and try to fake an accident in the middle of the road. You might shorten your life.” I lay helplessly in the mud, passersby cast curious glances, but no one came to help me. I felt like I was back five years ago, being ostracized by everyone in my class. After the accident, I frantically searched my phone contacts, unable to find a single person to ask for help. Five years ago, Anna walked up to me and extended her hand. I looked up at her, meeting a familiar smile. I gently placed my hand in hers, and she pulled hard. I thought she had pulled me out of the mire. That umbrella not far away, mud splattered, leaving mottled marks on its black surface. I was like that umbrella, easily tossed from her car window, covered in mud. I’ve forgotten how I managed to pick myself up and walk home. I only remember Anna returning home at dawn that day, reeking of perfume. She saw my state and scoffed. “Found out I have money, so you’re using a pity play to get sympathy?” “Arthur Bradbury, I never knew you were so scheming.” I said nothing, simply throwing the car service card heavily onto the table in front of her. Anna picked it up, her delicate brows arching. “Arthur, ten thousand dollars would take you three months to earn.” “You should be grateful for what I give you.” “After all, without me, you would have died in that car crash five years ago.” Seeing the wound on my forehead, her tone softened slightly. “The past five years were just a test for you, Arthur. Congratulations, you passed.” “I’m actually the eldest daughter of the Sterling family in the capital, and I’ll be the future CEO of Sterling Corp.” She stepped forward, wanting to put an arm around my shoulder, but her fingers had barely touched my jacket when I avoided her touch. “Dean is just my arranged marriage partner, and you, you’re my lover.” I turned my head away, my voice a little hoarse from the injury, and with a slight stutter. “You mean, Dean will be your public husband?” Anna hesitated, then nodded. “Husband is just a title. As long as you know in your heart that I only love you, that’s enough.” I looked directly into her eyes and said, “What if I say, I want that title?” 3 Anna’s face instantly drained of color, and she sharply pulled her hand back. I stumbled slightly, then regained my footing, but she merely looked down at me from her superior height. “Arthur Bradbury, you’re a stutterer, with no money, no power, no family. Don’t dream of things that don’t belong to you.” “I can give you my love, but my husband can only be Dean.” I tightened my fingers, my nails digging deep into my palm, a sharp pain spreading from my arm throughout my body. I looked at Anna. Her face was still the same, yet I felt like I was looking at a complete stranger. I knew, she was no longer the Anna who would massage my shoulders after I finished fixing a car. She was the high and mighty Ms. Sterling, and I was merely a plaything for her to experience life while pretending to be poor. Anna’s phone suddenly rang. She answered it, a gentle smile spreading across her face. “Dean, I’ll be right back. Don’t be afraid, your wife will protect you forever.” She hung up the phone. Her gaze turned to me, becoming impatient again. “Stop messing around. Dean has nightmares if I leave him at night. You sleep alone tonight.” The door closed. I sat alone in the empty room all night, not shedding a single tear. The next day, I still put on my faded work clothes, and forced myself to the auto repair shop. Dean was already there, a modified off-road motorcycle parked at his feet. He saw me, a triumphant smirk on his face. “Hey Stutter Boy, I’ve brought you a big job, specially.” He kicked the motorcycle’s tire, his tone provocative. “Take this bike apart and put it back together for me. Finish it, and I’ll give you ten grand!” I looked at the illegally modified motorcycle, its wiring completely messed up, and took a step back. “This bike is dangerous. I won’t fix it.” But the shop manager, at that moment, fawned over Dean, pushing me forward. “Mr. Dean, don’t listen to this stutterer’s nonsense. We’ll definitely take this job.” He lowered his voice, threatening me in my ear. “If you don’t take this job, you can forget about this month’s salary.” This month’s salary would complete the down payment for the house. I gritted my teeth and nodded. Dean grinned triumphantly, and as he passed me, he whispered, “I know you’ve been with Anna for five years. But you, a stuttering mechanic, do you really deserve her?” I said nothing, took the tools, and walked over to the motorcycle. Just as I was about to inspect the wiring, the motorcycle’s battery suddenly short-circuited, sparking. The blast of air instantly knocked me off my feet, and flying metal shards savagely embedded themselves in my arm. Excruciating pain hit me. My vision went black, and I fell unconscious. In the last second before my consciousness faded, I saw Anna rushing in. When I awoke, the hospital’s stark white assaulted my eyes. Anna’s voice, clearly annoyed, came from outside the door. “You only told me you were playing a joke on Arthur, but now you’ve hurt him so badly.” “The doctor says the scar on his arm won’t go away, Dean. You’ve gone too far.” Dean complained indignantly. “I was just jealous. Sister Anna is mine!” “Why does he get to be with you for so long!” “We’re getting engaged soon. I just wanted to teach him a lesson, so he wouldn’t dare cling to you anymore!” Silence fell outside for a moment, followed by Anna’s helpless sigh. Expressionless, I pulled out my phone and called my sister. “Sis, I want to come home.” My sister’s familiar voice came from the other end. “It’s good that you’ve come to your senses. Wait there, I’ll be right there to pick you up.”

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For three years, my husband Derek enforced a strict 50/50 split—mortgage, bills, even groceries, which he’d calculate to the cent. I told myself he was just frugal. Then one day, my period came early. Out of supplies, I asked him to grab overnight pads on his way home. That night, a Venmo request arrived: Always Ultra Thin Overnights – $7.99. Personal item.It hit me like a needle to the heart. Derek emerged from the bathroom, towel around his waist, smirking. “Too expensive?” he said. “Stock up next time. Or buy Walmart’s generic brand—I’m not subsidizing your choices.” I looked at him—really looked—for the first time in three years. Rising, I pulled a manila folder from beneath the table and dropped it before him. “Derek, we’re getting a divorce.” My voice was steady. He laughed. “Over eight dollars? We split everything. Remember the prenup protects my assets. Your salary can’t even cover a studio here.” He leaned in, sneering. “You leave me, you can’t afford rent.” I stayed silent, meeting his gaze. “You’ll soon see exactly how much of your money I’ll touch.” In front of him, I texted my lawyer: Initiate asset freeze. File evidence. We’re going to trial. His laughter stopped. For the first time, panic flickered across his face. 1 The next afternoon, while Derek was sitting in a board meeting at his consulting firm, a process server handed him a court summons. He absolutely lost his mind. He called my cell phone back to back, the screen lighting up again and again. I hit decline, then permanently blocked his number. Unable to reach me, he ran straight to his mother, Brenda, to complain. Through the audio feed on my laptop, I heard Brenda shrieking in the background. “That ungrateful little bitch! She ate our food and lived in our house for three years, and now she thinks she can just fly the coop?!” “Don’t you worry, sweetheart. We kept the books completely clean. She won’t get a single red cent from us!” “Let her throw her little fit. Let’s see what she can actually do!” I closed the remote access app synced to the hidden microphone in his home office and looked out the window at the busy Manhattan traffic. For an entire year, I had lived like a rat in the shadows, quietly and methodically collecting every shred of evidence proving this mother-son duo was laundering marital assets. Now, the curtain was finally going up. 2 My marriage to Derek was a meticulously calculated scam from day one. When we got engaged, he pitched the 50/50 split as a modern, progressive way to live. He said it would prevent financial resentment and give us both total independence. He said good business partners keep clean books, and a marriage is the most important partnership of all. God, I actually thought he was a visionary back then. I never imagined his 50/50 rule would become a psychological torture device. The down payment on our condo was split exactly down the middle. The mortgage, the HOA fees, the electric bill all perfectly halved. It sounded fair on paper. Except the master bedroom he occupied was a hundred and fifty square feet larger than the guest room I used as an office. So, he spent an hour on Excel calculating the square footage and demanded I pay 0.5% more of the utility and maintenance costs. He called it equity. I cooked dinner every night. He came home to hot meals. After eating, he would literally pull out a digital kitchen scale. He would estimate how many grams of salt and how many ounces of olive oil I used in the recipe. Then, he would cross-reference the grocery receipt and Venmo me exactly half the cost of the ingredients. His justification was maddening. “We only split joint expenses. You bought the groceries, but we both consumed the seasoning.” He called it respecting my labor. The most absurd moment happened when I was hospitalized for severe food poisoning. He came to visit me in the ER, bringing a small bouquet of bodega flowers. I was lying in the hospital bed, pale and violently dehydrated. He sat in the visitor’s chair, perfectly calm, and pulled out his phone calculator. “The ER copay, we split down the middle.” “The IV fluids are for your personal bodily needs, so you cover that 100%.” “My Uber ride here to see you was $38, so you owe me $19.” He pointed to the cheap carnations. “The flowers are a gift from me. No need to split those.” Lying in that sterile bed, watching him aggressively punch numbers into his phone, the very last shred of love I had for him evaporated into thin air. That was when the suspicion started. How could a man who obsessed over pennies to this psychotic degree suddenly become so “successful” in his freelance consulting side-hustle, yet our joint standard of living never improved? Where exactly was all that lucrative consulting money going? I used to be a senior financial analyst. I have an instinct for numbers and cash flow. After I was discharged, I told him I wanted to streamline our household budgeting software. I tricked him into granting me viewing access to his primary checking account. Then, using my professional background, I began secretly tracing every single dollar that entered and exited his name. It didn’t take long to uncover a horrifying secret. Every single month, a massive wire transfer was sent directly into Brenda’s personal bank account, labeled as a “Caregiving Stipend.” I remembered a conversation from a few months prior. Derek had proudly bragged to his friends that he bought his mother a gorgeous retirement property in the Hamptons in straight cash. When I asked him about it, he brushed it off. “It was money I made from an old investment before we met. It has nothing to do with our household.” Before we met? His pre-marital savings were a joke. He had to beg his uncle for a loan just to cover his half of our condo’s down payment. I knew right then he was lying through his teeth. I tapped into my old industry contacts and ran a deep background search on his shell LLCs and off-shore routing numbers. The results made my blood run cold. When my divorce attorney, Arthur, reviewed the preliminary forensic audit I put together, he actually gasped. “Vivian, every single penny your husband made from his private consulting contracts over the last three years bypassed your joint accounts entirely.” “He funneled all of it directly into his mother’s checking account under the guise of living expenses and elder care support.” The day of our pre-trial mediation, Derek’s lawyer strutted into the conference room looking like he already won the lottery. He slammed a binder as thick as a phonebook onto the mahogany table. “Your Honor, opposing counsel. Please direct your attention to this ledger. This is a comprehensive, line-by-line accounting of every joint expense shared by Mr. Davis and my client over their three-year marriage.” “Every single transaction is documented and acknowledged.” “This proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that both parties operated under a strict, agreed-upon separation of finances.” Derek sat across from me, a winner’s smirk plastered across his face. During the recess, Derek’s lawyer walked over to me, dripping with arrogance. “Vivian, you can’t even keep track of your own grocery bills. Do you really think you can unravel a multi-million dollar asset portfolio?” “I suggest you take the high road and drop this. Stop embarrassing yourself.” I looked at that massive binder of receipts and smiled. For three years, I swallowed my pride and endured your financial abuse just to make you feel invincible. I lulled you into a false sense of absolute security. The cleaner you kept these petty little books, the harder you are going to bleed. 3 When the mediation session went on recess, Derek cornered me in the courthouse lobby. He stood with his chest puffed out, looking incredibly pleased with himself. “I am giving you one last chance, Vivian. Drop the lawsuit right now, and we can walk away clean.” “Don’t even dream about squeezing a single dime out of my pockets. You don’t have the brains for it.” His voice was kept low, but it was laced with deliberate cruelty. I didn’t waste my breath arguing. I simply reached into my designer tote, pulled out a separate legal document, and shoved it into his chest. It was a formal notice drafted by Arthur that morning. The bold black header read: Notice of Intent to Litigate: Fraudulent Dissipation of Marital Assets. Derek snatched it, scanned the first few lines, and let out a loud, mocking scoff. “What a joke! You think paying some ambulance chaser to write a scary letter is going to intimidate me?” “Every dollar I spent went to my own personal expenses. Our financial boundaries are legally documented in that binder. You could take this to the Supreme Court and you’d still lose!” He crumpled the notice into a tight ball, threw it onto the marble floor, and ground it under the heel of his Italian loafer. “You are so naive, Vivian.” I stared at the crushed paper on the floor, feeling absolutely nothing. The mediation resumed. Derek’s lawyer was putting on a masterclass in theatrics, endlessly praising the modern brilliance of their 50/50 financial arrangement. He painted me as a hysterical, greedy housewife trying to steal her brilliant husband’s hard-earned pre-marital wealth over a petty argument. Right in the middle of his grand speech, Arthur stood up. “Your Honor, my client is submitting an emergency motion for a preliminary injunction.” “We request the immediate freezing of the defendant’s primary bank account ending in 8848.” The entire room fell dead silent. Arthur handed the motion directly to the mediator and the judge. “My client has uncovered evidence that Mr. Davis is currently bleeding massive amounts of capital out of his personal accounts to undisclosed offshore entities.” “To prevent the total liquidation of marital assets, we require an immediate freeze.” Derek’s face completely dropped. He snapped his head toward me, genuine panic flashing in his eyes for the very first time. But he quickly forced his features into a calm mask. He probably assumed I had only found a few hidden thousands. A minor inconvenience. His lawyer immediately jumped in. “Objection!” “The transfers in question are routine, documented financial gifts to my client’s elderly mother. It is a standard display of familial duty.” “This has absolutely nothing to do with asset concealment! We demand opposing counsel produce hard evidence of fraud!” “Hard evidence?” I finally spoke up. My voice wasn’t loud, but it cut through the heavy silence of the room like a knife. I looked dead into Derek’s eyes. “Don’t panic, Derek. This is just the appetizer.” “Every single penny you swallowed in the dark, I am going to rip out of your throat with interest.” My words completely broke him. He slammed his hands on the table, surging out of his chair, pointing a shaking finger at my face. “Who the hell do you think you are, Vivian?!” “If you can actually prove anything, I’ll legally change my name!” The room erupted into chaos. I watched him hyperventilate, a cold smile touching my lips. The higher you climb on your pedestal of arrogance, the more bones you will break when you hit the pavement. Derek finally realized I wasn’t just playing games. The second the hearing adjourned, he ambushed me in the parking garage. He slapped his hands against the driver’s side window of my car. His face had undergone a terrifying transformation. The smug superiority from the courtroom was entirely gone, replaced by a sickeningly sweet, desperate warmth. “Viv, roll the window down. Let’s just talk.” I lowered the glass a few inches, staring at him blankly. He instantly put on a face of deep, wounded heartbreak. He was playing the emotional manipulation card. “Vivian, I know the last few years have been hard on you.” “But our financial setup… I only did it so we could build a stronger foundation for our future. Why can’t you see that?” His voice was buttery soft, acting like we were still a pair of star-crossed lovers. “Are you really going to destroy three years of a beautiful marriage over an eight-dollar Venmo request?” 4 The sheer hypocrisy of his performance made my stomach turn. “Three years of a beautiful marriage?” I let out a dry, venomous laugh. “Were you thinking about our beautiful marriage when you were calculating the exact retail tax on a box of tampons?” “Were you thinking about our love when you sat by my hospital bed punching numbers into a calculator to split an Uber fare?” My questions shattered his fragile mask of affection. Seeing that the soft approach was completely useless, his eyes darkened. The vicious, cornered animal finally came out. “Don’t push your luck, you ungrateful bitch!” He snarled, leaning close to the glass. “You think I don’t know you’ve been digging through my trash?” “I’m telling you right now, whatever garbage you think you found won’t hold up in court!” “If you actually try to take this to trial, I will drag your name through the mud. I will make sure you are totally blacklisted in your industry. You will never work in finance again!” He whipped out his phone and shoved the screen against my window. They were highly edited, out-of-context screenshots of our old text messages. He had spliced them together to make it look like the strict 50/50 rule was entirely my idea, and that I was financially abusing him. “You see this?” Derek gloated, his voice dripping with malice. “You don’t have a single shred of concrete proof that I hid millions of dollars!” “Everything you say in front of that judge is going to be thrown out as malicious slander!” “You are going to lose everything, Vivian!” I looked at his face, twisted and deformed by his own terrifying ego. The very last ripple of anger in my chest finally went completely still. I gave him one final answer. “I will see you in court tomorrow, Derek.” “That ‘garbage’ evidence you are so confident about is going to cost you a price you cannot even begin to comprehend.” I rolled the window up, shifted into drive, and left him standing in a cloud of exhaust. When I got back to my apartment, I unlocked my heavy steel safe and pulled out the masterpiece I had spent a year building. A fifty-page dossier titled: Forensic Analysis of Concealed Marital Funds. I smoothed my hand over the cover and flipped to a page near the middle. It was a printed screenshot of a WhatsApp conversation between Derek and Brenda. Brenda: Honey, the wire transfer cleared. I put it in the offshore high-yield account. We’re almost at two million. Is that enough for the Hamptons property? Derek: Don’t worry Mom, it’s more than enough. Just remember, do not leave a single paper trail with your signature on it. We declare it strictly as your retirement savings. That way, even if things go south with Vivian, that leech won’t be able to touch a single dime. I took a slow, deep breath and dialed my lawyer. “Arthur, tell the judge we are submitting our core evidence exhibit on the floor tomorrow.” “I want him to stand in front of a crowded courtroom and watch the lies he built burn to the ground.” The morning of the official trial was gray and overcast. The courtroom was packed. Brenda was sitting in the front row of the gallery. She glared daggers at me, her lips moving rapidly as she quietly cursed my name. Derek sat at the defense table in a sharp tailored suit, his hair slicked back, looking every bit the untouchable corporate elite. The trial commenced. Derek’s attorney took the floor first. He elevated our toxic financial dynamic, preaching about how our marriage was a shining beacon of modern, progressive financial independence. Then, he signaled his paralegal to lug that massive, brick-like binder of receipts over to the judge’s bench. “Your Honor, I direct your attention to Exhibit A.” “This ledger, spanning over three hundred pages, meticulously documents every single shared expense incurred by my client and the plaintiff over the course of their marriage.” “From mortgage payments and utility bills, to a single box of salt, a roll of paper towels, and even… personal feminine hygiene products.” He emphasized the last few words, drawing a smattering of muffled laughter from the gallery. “Both parties have physically signed off on this ledger.” “This explicitly proves that a strict, undeniable separation of assets was established and maintained throughout the marriage.” “There is absolutely no comingling of funds.” “Therefore, the plaintiff’s demand for equitable distribution of my client’s personal assets is entirely baseless in both fact and law!” As his lawyer finished, Derek shot me a wildly arrogant smirk. He looked right at me and silently mouthed the words. This is the price you pay for eight dollars.

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Three years into my marriage to Carter Hayes, he had everyone hide the fact that he was keeping a younger, fresher girl on the side. Everyone around us said I was his one true love, his guiding light, his sole weakness. Yet, after a few drinks, he laughed and told his friends, “Audrey Davis? Once I finally married her, I realized she’s nothing to write home about.” The man who swore at seventeen to love me forever… Was currently holding a young girl, coaxing her, “She’s so boring. Of course I love you the most, baby.” The day I left, it was like any other day. No one noticed a thing. The housekeeper smiled and asked if I was going out shopping and for afternoon tea. I smiled back and nodded. “You don’t need to prepare dinner for me tonight.” When a man’s heart strays, you don’t weep. You strike the match, burn the memories, and scatter his ashes to the wind. Carter Hayes didn’t know that the “nothing special” Audrey Davis had a backbone of steel. In her dictionary, the word “forgiveness” never existed. 1 I clutched my wool coat, my other hand holding a pharmacy bag filled with hangover-recovery supplements. The corridor of the private club was endlessly long. The dim lighting caught the edges of oil paintings, casting fractured shadows across the floor. Laughter echoed from the room at the very end of the hall. Carter kept this entire floor booked year-round. No outsiders were allowed within fifty feet, so they hadn’t even bothered to close the door. My heel caught on the thick carpet. As I bent down to steady myself, the pearl necklace around my throat suddenly snapped. Pearls of all sizes scattered across the floor. A sharp, inexplicable pain pierced my chest. Just as I crouched down to gather the beads, I heard Carter’s voice. “Come on, I’m not a player like the rest of you.” “My first love, the love of my life, my everything—it’s only ever been my wife.” He sounded drunk. His voice was thick with liquor, swelling with pride and arrogance. I couldn’t help but press my lips together. Clutching a cool pearl in my palm, my heart smoothed out, feeling oddly comforted. “It’s just a shame.” Carter suddenly sighed. “Once I finally got her, I realized she’s nothing to write home about. Utterly ordinary.” My hand clamped shut. The pearl dug into the soft flesh of my palm. The smile froze on my lips. “Then what about me, Carter?!” A soft, delicate female voice suddenly chimed in. It dripped with a resentful, unwilling whine. “You say your wife is the only love of your life. So what am I to you?” “Just last night, you swore you loved me the most!” The men in the room erupted into laughter. “Silly girl, you actually believe what a man says in bed?” “Besides, it’s a given that a man loves his wife.” “You’re just the side piece—what are you fighting for?” “Carter! Look at them!” The girl’s voice cracked with tears. She sounded so pitiful, it was enough to make anyone’s heart ache. 2 “Alright, that’s enough. Stop messing with her.” “What’s this ‘side piece’ garbage? This is my actual girlfriend. Watch your mouths.” Carter’s voice deepened, carrying a hint of genuine displeasure. “No way, Carter. You’re serious about this one?” Carter gave a soft “Yeah.” Then added, “She’s been with me since she was eighteen. I have to take responsibility.” “You animal. You went after her the second she was legal.” “Aren’t you afraid your wife will find out and raise hell?” Carter laughed. “She relies on me to survive. What’s she going to raise hell with?” “But seriously, keep your mouths shut. I love my wife. I don’t want to make her sad.” “You love your wife, but what about me?” The young girl started whining again. Carter reached out, pulling her into his arms to coax her. “Are you really crying over a joke?” The girl sniffled, acting spoiled. “Carter, tell me I’m the one you love the most… even if you’re lying, I just want to hear it.” “Alright, baby. She’s so boring. Of course I love you the most.” Standing in the shadows outside the door, I suddenly smiled. The man who once swore to love me for a lifetime. Was currently sweet-talking a younger girl. Yet, I didn’t even feel the urge to walk in and confront him. Once unfaithful, forever discarded. I turned around and walked back down that long, suffocating corridor. When he was seventeen, Carter had secretly carved my name into his high school desk. He said Carter Hayes loved Audrey Davis, and he would love her for the rest of his life. But his “lifetime” was nothing more than a fleeting ten years. 3 When Carter came home the next morning, I was already downstairs eating breakfast. He rushed in, clutching a massive bouquet of flowers and a gift box. His face was a portrait of apology and guilt. “I’m so sorry, honey. The business dinner went incredibly late last night. I just couldn’t make it back.” When we got married, he promised that no matter how busy he was, he would never spend the night away from home. But over the past six months, he had been coming home later and later. This time, he hadn’t come back at all. I put down my fork and looked up at him. His suit, shirt, and tie were all freshly changed. He smelled clean, crisp, and minty. It must have been so exhausting for him, being this careful. He set the flowers down and walked over, leaning in to kiss me. “Honey, I swear, this is the first and last time.” I raised a hand to block him. Staring right at him, I asked, word by word: “Did you sleep at the office last night?” Carter didn’t hesitate for a second. “Yes. Look, I even changed into the spare clothes you packed for my office wardrobe.” He gripped my shoulders, looking at me with cautious eyes. “Honey, are you mad at me?” “I’ll stay with you all day today. I won’t go into the office, okay?” I looked at him. I looked at my own reflection in his dark eyes. He didn’t flinch. There wasn’t a trace of guilt on his face. And amazingly, I managed to hide my absolute heartbreak flawlessly. “No.” I pushed his hands away. “Eat your breakfast.” But the moment he sat down, his phone rang. I watched him frown and decline the call. Seconds later, it rang again. He hesitated for a moment, then declined it again. Immediately, a text message popped up. Carter read it, and his brow furrowed deeply. “Audrey, there’s an emergency at the office…” “Go.” “Never mind, I’ll have Marcus handle it. I promised to stay with you all day.” He said the words, but his mind was clearly already out the door. “No, work is more important. You should go.” I looked at him calmly. Even the pain in my chest had gone numb. Carter only struggled for a brief second before standing up. “Then I’ll try to come back early to be with you.” I murmured a soft “Okay,” and watched him rush out to his car. Only after he drove away did I finally reach up and wipe the cold tears from my cheeks. I picked up my phone and called my best friend. “Brie, can you book me in for a full exam at your clinic today?” 4 When the test results came back, I let out a massive sigh of relief. My STD panel was entirely clean. And I wasn’t pregnant. When I married Carter, my health was incredibly fragile. Because of that, we had put off having children. But just to be absolutely safe, I asked for a comprehensive workup. “Doctor, I wanted to ask, how is my body recovering overall?” Once I got the green light that my health had fully stabilized, the heavy fog in my chest finally began to clear. Clutching my medical report, I walked out of the office. Just as I turned the corner into the hallway, I heard Carter’s name. “Carter, if I’m really pregnant, can I please keep it?” I stopped in my tracks and looked at the two figures standing a few yards away. Carter had a cigarette clamped between his fingers. He looked annoyed, his brows locked together. The young girl was bare-faced, her cheeks stained with fresh tears. She was tugging on his sleeve, practically begging. Carter sneered. “My wife hasn’t even had a child yet. You think it’s your turn?” “But this is my first baby. I can’t bear to lose it.” “I promise I’ll be good. I’ll never cause you any trouble.” “And I’ll make sure your wife never finds out about me or the baby.” Carter took the hand holding the cigarette and lightly patted her cheek. “Don’t be naive, baby. There’s no way I’m letting you have this kid.” “Be a good girl. Have the abortion, and I’ll buy you a condo.” “But if you refuse… Chloe, I’m warning you right now.” “There are plenty of pretty, obedient girls at your college. I could sleep with a different one every night if I wanted to. You’re not irreplaceable.” The girl was utterly terrified by his words. Her face went deathly pale beneath her tears. “I’ll be good. Carter, please don’t leave me.” “Good girl. Go get the ultrasound.” “I’ll go get the checkup. It’s just… you said your wife is too sick to have kids.” “If I really am pregnant, think of it as me having the baby for her. She can even raise it! I won’t fight for custody, I swear. Please?” Carter fell silent for a moment. “Just go get the checkup. We’ll talk after.” The girl sobbed as she pushed the clinic door open and went inside. Carter finished his cigarette and stamped it out. As he turned around, I pretended I had just walked down the hall. When he saw me, he froze. But a second later, his face contorted into a mask of frantic worry. “Honey! What are you doing at the hospital?” “Are you sick? Did you get hurt?”

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1 “Be good. When I’m back from my shift, we’re getting married.” My girlfriend was a fire captain; after seven years together, we were finally engaged. The night before our wedding, a massive fire left her severely burned. She fell into a coma after rushing into a collapsing building to save a boy. “Dylan, you’re young—don’t waste your life waiting,” her parents begged me to end it. I refused, quit my high-paying job, and cared for her day and night for three painful years. Our town called me the devoted partner of legend. Until she woke. Claiming amnesia, she remembered only Tedd, the boy she’d saved. She glared at me with suspicion, saving all her warmth for him. “Who are you? Why are you in my room?” A news alert lit my phone: her hospital discharge, live—where she proposed to Tedd. “Tedd, I want to forget the past. I only want a life with you.” I looked at her empty bed and the torn engagement agreement. With a bitter laugh, I tallied three years of medical bills, nursing fees, and lost wages, then sent her everything—itemized—with my lawyer’s note: “Captain Garrison. Seven years together, three years of care. With damages and lost income, you owe me $2.1 million. Amnesia doesn’t erase debts.” Less than ten minutes after the text was sent, my front door was practically being pounded off its hinges. I took my time finishing my morning coffee before getting up to open it. Rebecca’s entire family stood on my porch. Rebecca herself was fiercely shielding a fragile looking Tedd in her arms. “Dylan! Do you have a soul?! Rebecca just got out of the hospital and you are harassing her with this insane bill?!” Her father’s voice was shrill. He raised a hand, fully intending to slap me across the face. I did not flinch. I just tapped my phone screen to wake it up and held it in his line of sight. “Mr. Garrison, my porch cameras are rolling. I really do not mind putting you on the local evening news if you swing.” His hand froze in midair. He was shaking with blind rage. “What is this garbage you sent my daughter? Over two million dollars? Why don’t you just rob a bank!” I looked at him with dead eyes. “Robbery is a felony. Collecting a legally documented debt is not.” “Every single cent on that invoice is money I spent keeping Rebecca alive. I have the receipts.” “That includes the money I got from selling my late parents’ house, my entire life savings, and the salary I forfeited over the last three years.” “You are full of shit!” Mr. Garrison pointed a trembling finger at me. “You took care of her voluntarily! Now that she is awake, you are trying to extort us!” Right on cue, Tedd put on a masterclass in playing the victim. He gently tugged at Rebecca’s sleeve, looking up with wide, innocent eyes. “Rebecca, maybe Dylan is just confused. That is so much money. How could we ever pay that back?” Rebecca finally spoke. The way she looked at me was like she was scraping dirt off her shoe. She actually thought I was using this as a pathetic excuse to win her back. I chuckled. “Captain Garrison, the invoice is crystal clear. 2.1 million. I am not negotiating a single penny.” “This condo you are living in. You paid the down payment, but I paid the mortgage entirely by myself for the last three years. We can value it at 200,000 dollars to offset your tab.” “That leaves 1.9 million. You have exactly three days.” “Dylan!” Mrs. Garrison shrieked. “Do not push us! Rebecca does not even remember who you are. What is the point of stalking her like this?” “I am not stalking anyone. I am collecting what I am owed.” I leaned against the doorframe, taking in the pathetic sight of this family. “Oh, I almost forgot to mention. When we bought this place, Rebecca insisted my name go on the deed. So I am going to need you all to get the hell out of my house.” Mr. Garrison’s face turned the color of a bruised plum. “You calculating bastard! You planned this all along!” He lunged at me. I was ready. I sidestepped smoothly. He missed entirely and slammed shoulder first into the wall. Rebecca instantly caught her dad, steadying him before whipping her head to glare at me. Her voice was thick with suppressed fury. “Dylan, do you really have to be this ruthless?” Looking at her acting like a human shield for her family and her little boy toy, I realized my entire youth had been a complete joke. “Ruthless? I could never compete with you, Captain.” “If I do not see the money in three days, you will be hearing from a judge.” I did not wait for a response. I slammed the door right in their faces. I could hear Mr. Garrison cursing and Tedd whimpering outside. It was just white noise to me now. 2 I walked into the bedroom and opened the closet. My tailored wedding suit was still hanging there in its plastic cover. I grabbed the hanger, ripped it down, and tossed the whole thing into the trash can. First thing the next morning, I booked a real estate agent for a viewing. The apartment was in a prime location with high end renovations. It was going to sell fast. The agent had barely left when my phone rang. It was Rebecca. “Dylan, are you really selling the house?” Her voice sounded exhausted. “What else would I do? Keep it as a honeymoon suite for you and Tedd?” Silence hung heavy on the line. “I will figure out the money. But you cannot sell that house. My dad…” “Your dad picked it out, I know,” I cut her off. “But I paid the mortgage, and my name is on the deed. Legally and morally, it belongs to me.” “What do you actually want from me?” “I want my money.” I hung up. I was done wasting my breath on her. That afternoon, while I was packing my boxes, the doorbell rang again. I assumed it was the Garrison family back for round two. When I opened the door, I found Tedd standing there alone. His eyes were bloodshot. He looked like a fragile, shivering puppy. “Dylan,” he said timidly. I blocked the doorway, making it absolutely clear he was not stepping inside. “What do you want?” “I came to apologize on behalf of Rebecca.” His eyes welled up with tears on command. “She does not mean to be cruel. She is just sick. She does not remember anything. Please do not blame her.” “And your point is?” “We really cannot afford that kind of money.” He bit his lower lip, looking like he was about to shatter into a million pieces. “Dylan, I know you suffered a lot over the past three years. I want to thank you for taking care of her. Could you please give us more time? Or maybe, ask for a little less?” “Every cent I spent is meticulously documented. The emotional distress and lost wages were calculated by a professional attorney. Which exact charge do you feel is unreasonable?” Tedd went pale. “That is not what I meant. I just feel like, considering our shared history…” A sharp voice cut him off before he could finish. “Tedd!” Rebecca came storming out of the elevator. She grabbed Tedd and pulled him behind her back, glaring at me like I was a predator. “Why are you bothering him again? I told you never to see him alone!” Tedd shook his head, looking pitiful. “Rebecca, I just wanted to talk things out with Dylan. I hate seeing you so stressed.” Rebecca gently stroked his hair, her eyes softening for a second before snapping back to me, cold and hard. “Dylan, I am warning you. Do not touch him.” I actually laughed out loud. “Rebecca, did you forget that I dragged you back from the gates of hell three years ago?” “Now you are taking my money to fund your little boy toy, and you have the nerve to warn me?” That hit a raw nerve. Her face contorted. “That fire… I am incredibly sorry. But I did not choose for this to happen.” “But you chose to forget me. And you chose him. Right?” She did not answer, but her dead silence was all the confirmation I needed. Peeking out from behind her shoulder, Tedd flashed me a smug, victorious little smirk. It finally clicked. Some people were just born to be Oscar worthy actors. “Alright.” I nodded slowly. “Then we have nothing left to say.” “Captain Garrison, my patience has run out. I want that money by noon tomorrow.” But I severely underestimated the absolute shamelessness of her family. The next day, instead of a wire transfer, I got a mob. A whole group of people claiming to be Rebecca’s relatives barricaded my front door. They were holding up giant vinyl banners. Ungrateful Gold Digger! Give Our Niece Her Blood Money Back! 3 Neighbors started poking their heads out of their doors, whispering and pointing at me. The ringleader was Rebecca’s loudmouthed aunt, Martha. “Come look at this monster, everyone! This man scammed my poor niece out of her apartment!” “Now that she has amnesia, he is throwing her out on the street and extorting her for two million dollars!” “My niece is a decorated hero! She almost died saving a child from a fire, and this vulture is trying to bleed her dry!” I leaned casually inside my doorway, watching their little theater production with cold amusement. Mr. Garrison stood at the back of the crowd, looking deeply aggrieved, occasionally wiping away invisible tears. Tedd was conveniently absent. I guessed a trashy hallway protest did not fit his delicate aesthetic. “Dylan! Open this door! Give the house back to Rebecca!” Aunt Martha started hammering her fists against the wood. I pulled out my phone and dialed the building’s management office. “Security? I have a mob trespassing and harassing me at my private residence. I need them cleared out immediately.” A few minutes later, a squad of security guards rushed out of the elevator. Seeing the uniforms, Aunt Martha dialed the drama up to eleven. She threw herself onto the hallway carpet, slapping her thighs and wailing at the top of her lungs. “There is no justice in this world! He steals our money and now he is calling the thugs to beat us!” The guards looked completely lost, unsure how to handle a shrieking older woman rolling on the floor. I calmly pulled out a photocopy of my property deed and handed it to the head of security. “I am the sole legal owner of this unit. These people are trespassing and actively committing slander.” “If you cannot remove them, I will call the police and let them drag them out in handcuffs.” The head guard glanced at the deed, then looked at the thrashing Aunt Martha. He made his choice. He barked into his radio. Backup arrived quickly, and they physically dragged the screaming relatives toward the freight elevator. The world finally went quiet. I shut my door. My phone immediately buzzed. It was Rebecca. “Did my aunt go to your house?” “She did. Quite the spectacle. If I did not know better, I would have thought I dug up your family graves,” I replied flatly. “I am sorry. I had no idea they were going to do that.” “Is an apology supposed to fix this?” She fell silent. “Dylan, please. Can we negotiate the money? I literally cannot produce 2.1 million.” “How about this? I will give you 500,000 dollars, and you keep the apartment. We call it even.” I laughed bitterly. “Rebecca, are you trying to tip a homeless man?” “My ten years of loyalty are only worth 500k to you?” “That is not what I meant…” “That is exactly what you meant,” I cut her off, my voice dropping to a freezing temperature. “Do not try to haggle with me again. I will see you in court.” I hung up and permanently blocked every single one of her numbers. That night, while I was taping up the last cardboard box, a photo message came through from an unknown number. I opened it. It was a candid shot of Rebecca and Tedd dining at an ultra exclusive rooftop restaurant. In the photo, Rebecca was gently wiping a smudge of sauce from the corner of Tedd’s mouth. They were gazing into each other’s eyes, sickeningly sweet. Below the image was a text. Dylan, Rebecca just told me that her biggest blessing in life was waking up without her memories, because I was the first face she saw. She said she is treating the past like nothing but a bad nightmare. I stared at the glowing screen for a long time. Then, with total detachment, I deleted the thread. The very next morning, my attorney officially filed the lawsuit. The Garrison family received their court summons almost immediately. Since Rebecca couldn’t get through my blocked list, her parents started blowing up my phone. I ignored every single call. Then the text messages started pouring in. At first, they were full of vicious insults. Then came the guilt trips. Finally, they resorted to begging. Dylan, please let us sit down and talk. Taking this to court will ruin everyone. I replied with exactly three words. Pay your debt. They did not text back. Two days later, Mrs. Higgins, an older neighbor from our community, called me. She sounded incredibly hesitant. “Dylan, honey, I heard about the mess with Rebecca. Her parents are going around the neighborhood dragging your name through the mud. They are telling everyone you are a greedy monster stealing from a wounded hero.” “I know.” “Are you just going to let them…” “Mrs. Higgins, I appreciate you looking out for me, but I really do not care what they say.” Anyone who had eyes knew exactly how I had spent the last three years. When Rebecca was first hospitalized, the doctors handed me critical condition notices multiple times. I was the one who dropped to my knees in the ICU hallway, begging the surgeons not to give up on her. I was the one who slept in a plastic chair for 24 hours a day. I sponge bathed her, rotated her body to prevent bedsores, and massaged her limbs to stop her muscles from dying. When she lost control of her bodily functions, I cleaned up the mess time and time again without a single word of complaint. Back then, her parents had begged me to leave, crying that they did not want to ruin my life. Back then, everyone in the neighborhood called me a saint. But now? Now that she was awake and claimed she had forgotten me, they flipped the script. They painted me as a venomous gold digger. Human nature was terrifyingly cold. I hung up the phone and plugged in a dusty external hard drive I had not touched in weeks. It held my entire life over the past three years. Every medical receipt, every hospital bill, every video recording I took to monitor her physical therapy progress. I selected one specific video, clipped a thirty second segment, and posted it to my social media feed. In the video, Rebecca was lying in the ICU, hooked up to a dozen breathing tubes. I was carefully using a wet cotton swab to moisten her severely cracked lips. My face was in the frame, gaunt and exhausted, with bruised, purple bags under my eyes from sleep deprivation. The caption was simple. A three year nightmare is finally over. I did not name anyone, but everyone who knew us knew exactly what it meant. My feed exploded within minutes. The same people who had been whispering behind my back were suddenly flooding my inbox. Dylan, what is going on? Did Rebecca do something to you?! I did not reply to a single one. Let the bullets fly a little longer.

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My twin sister and I were getting married on the exact same day. But on the morning of the wedding, someone shredded her gown to pieces. When my husband found out, he took my wedding dress and gave it to her. The wedding coordinator was frantically calling for the bride and groom to line up. I was spinning in circles, tearing the bridal suite apart looking for my dress. That was when my husband finally looked at me, a flicker of guilt in his eyes. “It’s Hailey’s first time getting married. She deserves to have a flawless day. You two are exactly the same size, so I let her borrow your gown.” I stared at him, entirely unable to process his words. “What about me? This is my first wedding, too.” Carter furrowed his brow, completely exasperated. “Hailey is your twin sister. Can’t you just be the bigger person for once? Besides, we already signed the marriage license at the courthouse last month. Today is just for show. I already talked to Hailey. She’s going to walk down the aisle a second time pretending to be you. You guys are identical anyway. As long as you keep your mouth shut, no one will ever know.” 1 Half an hour ago, when Carter told me he gave my dress to Hailey, I thought I was having a stroke. I stood frozen in the hallway for a full thirty seconds. When my brain finally rebooted, I shoved past him and marched straight for the ballroom doors. Hailey and I had booked our receptions at the same luxury hotel. My reception was in the Sapphire Room. Hers was right next door in the Emerald Room. I stepped into the dim ballroom. Up on the altar, Hailey was exchanging rings with her groom. A brilliant spotlight shone down on her lace bodice and flowing train. Pure, radiant, and absolutely breathtaking. It was my dress. The tips of my fingers went completely numb. I planted my foot, ready to storm that stage. But Carter grabbed me from behind. His grip was brutal. His fingers dug into my bare upper arm like steel claws. He practically dragged me backward, shoving me all the way into the secluded bridal suite. “Jules, stop acting crazy! This is the most important moment of Hailey’s entire life!” He slammed the door shut and yanked at his bowtie, looking thoroughly annoyed. My eyes began to burn. A pathetic, choked sob clawed its way up my throat. “Is today not the most important moment of my life, too?” I stared at him without blinking. I wanted to look right through this man. We had known each other since childhood. We had been dating for two years. Carter avoided my eyes. A fleeting shadow of guilt passed over his face before it vanished. He reached out to hold my hands, speaking to me like a disappointed parent. “Jules, Hailey isn’t built like you. She’s highly sensitive, and you know she has a weak heart. If her wedding day was ruined, she would spiral into a depression she might never recover from.” “We all grew up together. You know Hailey has always needed extra protection. Whatever she wanted, if you didn’t have it, you helped her get it. If you did have it, you gave it to her.” “Why are you throwing a temper tantrum over something so trivial?” I slapped his hands away and let out a dry, hollow laugh. “You think I’m throwing a temper tantrum?” “What else would you call it?” Carter ran a hand through his perfectly styled hair, his voice rising with frustration. “It’s just a piece of fabric! I’ll buy you ten new designer dresses tomorrow if you want. Do you really have to be this relentless?” I looked at his self-righteous face. Every compromise I had ever made, every boundary I had ever let them cross, suddenly felt like jagged glass lodged in my throat. I couldn’t breathe. Since I was a little girl, I was conditioned to yield to Hailey. If she wanted my favorite doll, I handed it over. If she wanted the trophy I won at the science fair, I let her put her name on it. When she developed a crush on Carter and actively tried to steal him, I quietly stepped back. But then Carter came to me. He asked me out. He looked me in the eyes and said he finally realized I was the one he loved, not Hailey. That was the only reason we were standing here today. I had swallowed all the unfairness because my mother drilled it into my skull every single day. She always told me Hailey was fragile. Hailey was sickly. I had to yield. But did I really have to yield my wedding? My dress? My own husband? When I didn’t say anything, Carter assumed I had surrendered. His tone softened. He reached out to stroke my cheek. “Be a good girl. I promise I’ll make it up to you tonight, okay? Let’s go out there. We have to do our vows. You can just wear one of the bridesmaid dresses. It’s just family and friends out there anyway, nobody is going to judge you.” I leaned back, dodging his touch. I reached onto the vanity, picked up my diamond engagement ring, and dropped it onto the glass table. The sharp clink echoed in the quiet room. It sounded like a gunshot. Carter’s face went completely pale. “Jules, are you seriously doing this?” “Did you think I was joking?” I looked at him. My voice was so dead and calm it even scared me. “Carter, I’m done yielding. You can have the dress. You can have the wedding.” “I want a divorce.” “Absolutely not!” 2 The heavy wooden door flew open. My mother stormed into the suite, her face dark with fury. Hailey was right behind her, still wearing my wedding dress. “Do you think marriage is a game?” my mother hissed, glaring at me. “You’re refusing to walk down the aisle over a minor inconvenience? What are all those guests going to think of you? What are they going to think of this family?” I stared at her. “So you think it’s perfectly fine for me to walk down the aisle in a plain bridesmaid dress on my own wedding day?” “A dress is a dress! It’s just a little less flashy. When I married your father, I didn’t even have a real gown!” She rattled off her excuses rapidly. Her tone was practiced. It was entirely rehearsed. My legs suddenly felt like lead. “Mom, you knew about this. Didn’t you?” My mother paused. Her eyes darted away from mine. “Jules, my hands were tied. I’ll explain everything once the reception is over.” My voice shattered the quiet room. “So you all knew! You all conspired behind my back to strip me of my dress and give it to her!” Total silence fell over the room. The only sound was the hum of the air conditioning vent overhead. The cold air hit my face, freezing me to my very core. “Mom, am I actually your daughter?” Memories flooded my brain. Every single year on our birthday, Hailey was the one who blew out the candles. I used to beg for a second cake so I could have a turn. My mother always said buying two cakes for twins was a waste of money. She promised we would alternate years. But every year, without fail, she pulled Hailey up to the table. When we were in middle school, the neighbor’s house caught fire. The flames spread to our siding. I was trapped in bed with a broken ankle. They completely forgot about me. They grabbed Hailey and ran out into the street. Thank God the fire department arrived in time. After high school, Hailey completely bombed her SATs and didn’t get into a single good college. My scores got me into Cornell. My mother secretly called my guidance counselor and tried to force me to take a gap year. When I refused, she dropped to her knees in the kitchen and begged me. She said if I went to an Ivy League school while Hailey stayed home, the humiliation would kill Hailey. Hailey locked herself in her room and cried for two straight weeks. But what about me? What did I ever do wrong? Hailey stole everything I ever earned, and I was just supposed to swallow the pain. Was I cursed to be treated like garbage for the rest of my life? 3 My mother looked away, her voice sharp and defensive. “You are the older sister. It is your duty to accommodate her. Hailey can’t handle failure. You are tough. You can take the hits. What is the big deal?” Standing behind her, Hailey peeked out. Her eyes were red and swimming with tears. She looked like a terrified little deer. “Please don’t fight. It’s all my fault.” She sniffled, her voice trembling. “Jules, please don’t be mad at Mom. Someone maliciously ruined my dress. I didn’t want to steal yours, but Carter swore you wouldn’t mind because we’re sisters.” “If you really hate me for it, I’ll take it off right now.” I looked at her with pure disgust. “Great. Take it off.” All the blood drained from Hailey’s face. She stood frozen, awkwardly clutching the expensive lace skirt, biting her bottom lip as huge tears rolled down her cheeks. I let out a bitter laugh. “What are you waiting for? Take it off.” My mother lunged forward, putting herself between me and her precious favorite child. She raised her hand and slapped me hard across the face. “Have you lost your damn mind?! Are you trying to humiliate your sister on purpose?!” The left side of my face went completely numb. I didn’t cry. I actually smiled. For twenty-five years, no matter who was at fault, my mother always protected Hailey. I looked my mother dead in the eyes, speaking with absolute clarity. “I am walking down that aisle in my wedding dress, or I am walking out that door and filing for divorce. And I will never come back to this family again.” Carter panicked. He grabbed my wrist, his voice shaking. “Jules, stop acting like a psycho! There are two hundred guests sitting out there waiting for us! If you walk out now, my family will be a laughingstock!” Hailey spoke up again, her voice tiny and sweet. “Actually, I have an idea. If Jules is really this upset, we shouldn’t force her. We look identical anyway. Even Mom gets us confused sometimes. I can just put the veil over my face, go out there with Carter, and do the vows for her.” Carter’s eyes lit up. “That’s brilliant. We’re in completely different ballrooms. Nobody will ever notice.” My mother nodded in aggressive agreement. They stood there plotting, treating me like I was completely invisible. It was so absurd I wanted to vomit. I violently wrenched my wrist out of Carter’s grip. I didn’t know I had that much strength in me. “Do whatever the hell you want.” I grabbed my clutch off the vanity and headed for the door. Carter stepped in front of me, blocking my path. “You can’t leave. If Hailey is on stage pretending to be you, what happens if someone sees you walking through the lobby?” My mother bit her lip. She grabbed a thick spool of silk ribbon from a floral arrangement on the table and shoved it into Carter’s hands. Tie her up. “I am not letting you ruin Hailey’s perfect day,” my mother said coldly. “You’re just going to have to wait in here.” “Are you people insane?!” I swung my fists, hitting Carter in the chest and the face. I kicked at his shins, fighting like a wild animal. But I was just one woman against two people. Carter clamped a hand over my mouth, binding my wrists tight with the thick ribbon. Together, they shoved me into the massive, heavy oak wardrobe in the corner of the room. Carter looked at me through the narrowing crack of the door, his face twisting with pity. “I promise I’ll let you out the second the reception is over, Jules. Just sit tight.” The very last thing I saw before the door shut was Hailey. She was standing behind Carter. She looked right at me, and the corners of her mouth twitched up into a sickening, victorious smirk. 4 Click. The lock turned from the outside. The wardrobe plunged into pitch black. The only light came from the tiny gap under the door. Muffled through the heavy wood, I could hear the DJ in the Emerald Room hyping up the crowd. I heard the bass of the music. I heard the distant cheering of the guests. Those cheers were meant for me. Now, every single clap felt like a needle driving directly into my eardrums. My chest ached so badly I couldn’t breathe. Thump. Thump. Thump. I threw my entire body weight against the heavy doors. The wood barely rattled. Nobody outside responded. The only result was a blinding pain shooting through my shoulder. The silk ribbon cutting into my wrists felt like razor wire. Every time I struggled, the friction burned my skin raw. I don’t know how many hours passed. The music outside eventually faded into nothing. I slumped against the back of the wardrobe, gasping for air, completely exhausted. Warm blood trickled down my hands, soaking the ribbon and turning it sticky against my skin. By the time the hotel fell completely silent, it was late into the night. Suddenly, I heard heavy footsteps entering the suite. I let out a desperate, muffled scream through the gag and threw my good shoulder against the door with everything I had left. Click. The wardrobe doors were violently yanked open. A terrified housekeeper and the hotel’s night manager stared down at me. “Oh my god! What happened to you?! Who locked you in here?!” the manager yelled. The harsh overhead lights blinded me. I squeezed my eyes shut as silent tears streamed down my bruised face. “Call the police.”

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1 The moment my neighbor and supposed best friend found out I had forty-five thousand dollars loaded on my VIP spa account, she came hunting for me. “Danica, I just did the most amazing thing!” Penny burst through my front door, eyes shining with manic excitement. “I took all the stray dogs in our neighborhood for a luxury essential oil spa day!” She clapped her hands together. “Over twenty dogs. A fifteen-hundred-dollar premium package for each of them. Aren’t I just the best?” I blinked, genuinely caught off guard. Penny was the neighborhood’s resident clout-chasing saint. She loved playing the philanthropist online, but she never spent a single dime of her own money. Her entire charity model relied on guilt-tripping others into opening their wallets. Since when did she have a change of heart? Unless she used my membership card to give a pack of feral dogs a luxury blowout. I leaned back against the plush velvet of my sofa. I kept my voice entirely neutral. “Penny, did you sign my name on that service invoice?” She froze for a split second before rolling her eyes, her tone dripping with impatience. “Well, duh! If I gave them my name, they wouldn’t know who I was. Anyway, just let them deduct it from your account balance. I gotta go!” She spun on her heels, ready to strut out the door like she owned the place. I took a slow sip of my black coffee. Just a few hours ago, the receptionist at the spa had stopped her with a single question, and it had sent her into a panic. “Danica,” Penny had asked me yesterday, her voice overly casual. “How much is left on that Obsidian card of yours at the luxury spa?” I had glanced at her, my voice perfectly calm. “About forty-five thousand. Why?” Hearing that number, Penny sucked in a sharp breath. Her eyes darted around like a slot machine. “Oh my god, I always knew you were loaded! That kind of money is nothing to you. Just the price of a couple of designer bags.” She leaned in close, lowering her voice, and slapped on a look of profound, agonizing pity. “Danica, have you seen that pack of stray dogs hanging around the community park?” “They break my heart. Absolutely skin and bones. Their fur is completely matted with filth.” “Especially that little black one with the limp. The way he looked at me last night… it was like a cry for help.” Penny was notorious in our gated community. Her absolute favorite hobby was posting tragic animal rescue videos on her Instagram stories, always accompanied by three-paragraph essays about kindness and empathy. But if you actually asked her to drop ten bucks on a bag of kibble, she would suddenly have a thousand excuses. She sighed heavily, forcing her eyes to water. “I’m just too soft-hearted. I can’t stand seeing innocent creatures suffer.” “If I could just get them a full-body essential oil treatment, scrub away all those fleas and grime…” “Get them a professional groom so they look adorable. I just know they’d get adopted by good families immediately!” I set my coffee cup down on the glass table, completely unfazed. “A spa trip will definitely make them smell nice. But what strays actually need is solid food and rabies vaccines.” Penny scowled. She hated it when I ruined her aesthetic fantasies with logic. “Food and shelter are just baseline survival! They deserve dignity, Danica!” “I’ve made up my mind. Tomorrow, I’m giving them a total makeover. I’m doing something truly beautiful.” “There’s over twenty of them. This is going to be incredibly rewarding.” She was practically buzzing with excitement, clearly already picturing the viral TikTok fame and the flood of adoring comments. “Alright, I can’t waste any more time chatting. I need to map out my rescue route for tomorrow.” “Just you wait, Danica. You’re going to see me shine!” She hummed a trendy pop song and practically skipped out of my house. Sitting in my living room, the memory of that conversation felt incredibly wrong. Penny was the kind of cheapskate who would stall at the cash register of a convenience store just to force me to pay for her popsicle. There was absolutely no way she had a sudden stroke of generosity to drop tens of thousands of dollars on stray dogs out of her own pocket. And why had she specifically asked about the balance on my Obsidian card? Lumina Spa was the most exclusive, high-end grooming club in the city, catering to both elite socialites and their pampered pets. Even their most basic wash-and-fluff cost hundreds of dollars. My stomach dropped. I immediately grabbed my phone and dialed the general manager of Lumina Spa. “Harrison, what is the current payment authorization on my Obsidian card?” “Miss Montgomery,” Manager Harrison’s polite voice came through the receiver. “Your card holds our highest VIP tier. Currently, charges are authorized purely via your signature.” I let out a cold, sharp laugh. I knew it. “Change the security settings on my account immediately.” “From this second forward, a signature is no longer enough. I want dual-factor authentication enabled. Facial recognition and fingerprint scan.” Harrison paused, clearly surprised, but his impeccable customer service training kicked in instantly. “Understood, Miss Montgomery. I am updating the system parameters right now.” I looked out the window at the gathering storm clouds, my voice dropping to a serious octave. “Mark my words, Harrison. Unless I am physically standing in your lobby to approve it, absolutely no one is allowed to deduct a single cent from that account. I don’t care who they claim to be.” “You have my word,” Harrison replied with absolute gravity. “With the system locked, no one can bypass your biometric verification to access those funds.” I hung up the phone and opened Instagram. Penny’s profile picture was a heavily filtered selfie of her hugging a dirty street dog. Her bio read: Always leading with love. 2 The next morning, the moment I pulled back my curtains, I heard a massive commotion down on the street. I opened my phone. Penny had already spammed her story with ten different updates. The newest post was a live video. In the frame, she was dressed head-to-toe in pristine white designer athleisure, wearing surgical gloves and a chic black face mask. Trailing behind her was a chaotic, filthy parade of over twenty stray mutts, taking over the entire sidewalk. The caption read: An angel on earth! I couldn’t bear to see these fur babies suffer another day. Taking them all for a luxury spa experience! Praying that once they wash away the street grime, they’ll all find their forever homes! The comment section was already a waterfall of praise. “Penny is literally an angel! We don’t deserve her!” “Over twenty dogs? Omg, that must cost an absolute fortune. You are so selfless.” “Get this girl a Nobel Peace Prize right now!” Penny pinned a comment to the top of the chat, adding a prayer hands emoji. “For these babies, I’d willingly empty my bank account.” Reading that sentence made my stomach churn. The sheer audacity of this woman was mind-blowing. Her history of weaponizing morality to rob people blind was legendary in our neighborhood. Just last month, the Homeowners Association organized a fundraiser for underprivileged kids. Penny grabbed a megaphone, planted herself at the front gates, and publicly cornered Martha, the elderly woman who cleaned our community dumpsters. Martha barely made minimum wage, but Penny relentlessly bullied her into donating a full month’s paycheck. “Martha, if you just skip buying meat for a few weeks, a child in need gets to eat warm meals!” Penny had yelled through the megaphone. “How can you be so heartless?” Publicly humiliated and driven to tears, Martha ended up handing over a hundred dollars she desperately needed for rent. Meanwhile, Penny didn’t donate a single cent. Yet, because she “organized” the drive, the HOA awarded her the title of Charity Ambassador. Then there was the time Mr. Henderson’s grandson fell terribly ill. The poor old man set up a GoFundMe to cover the medical bills. Penny hijacked the link, spamming it in every group chat she could find. She demanded everyone post screenshots of their donation receipts. If anyone failed to post one, she would tag them relentlessly, calling them cold-blooded monsters. Curious, Mr. Henderson eventually checked the backend of the fundraiser. Penny’s total contribution? One single cent. When confronted, she brushed it off. “The size of the donation doesn’t matter. It’s about raising awareness.” But her absolute worst offense involved feral cats. She would trap stray cats around the neighborhood and casually toss them over the fences into the ground-floor patios of other residents. Then, she would march up to their doors and demand they purchase imported, premium cat food to feed them. Every single afternoon, she would stand outside their fences, taking pictures of the cats eating the food the homeowners bought, and post it online to harvest likes and sympathy. I locked my screen, changed into a comfortable sweater, and headed downstairs for a walk. The moment I stepped into the courtyard, I practically collided with Brenda, the community’s most vocal busybody. Brenda was dragging her oversized Poodle along on a sparkly leash. The second she saw me, her face split into a massive, gossipy grin. “Oh my goodness, Danica! Your friend Penny is an absolute saint!” She gave me a thumbs-up, her heavy makeup creasing. “I just watched her round up every single stray dog in the neighborhood.” “I heard she took them to that ultra-fancy Lumina Spa. They’re getting the premium package! That’s like, a thousand bucks a pop!” I stopped in my tracks, feigning perfect shock. “A thousand each? For almost thirty dogs, that’s thirty grand. Where on earth did she get that kind of cash?” Brenda leaned in close, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Well, that’s the secret, isn’t it? Penny told me she wasn’t paying out of pocket.” “She said she has a filthy rich best friend who offered to fully sponsor this beautiful act of charity.” Brenda looked me up and down, a calculating gleam in her eyes. “Danica, you don’t happen to be that filthy rich best friend, do you?” I stared her down, my expression turning to ice. “I certainly don’t have that kind of money to throw around playing savior.” Brenda scoffed, clearly disappointed she didn’t get the juicy scoop she wanted. “Right, figured. You’ve always been pretty tight with your cash. You even complain about the HOA fees. You don’t have Penny’s big heart.” “But Penny swore up and down she had it in the bag today. Said she had absolute, guaranteed funding.” I didn’t bother arguing with her. I turned my back and walked straight toward the quiet gazebo by the pond. Once I sat down, I pulled out my phone and dialed Lumina Spa again. “Manager Harrison. Has anyone tried to charge my card today?” The background noise on the other end was absolute chaos. A chorus of barking and yelping echoed through the phone. “Yes, Miss Montgomery. Your associate, Penny, brought twenty-eight stray dogs into the salon. We are currently administering the premium essential oil packages.” “She claimed she had your full authorization and instructed us to bill everything to your Obsidian card.” I watched Brenda’s Poodle hike its leg against a pristine rosebush nearby. “Remember what I told you yesterday. I don’t care what she says. Without my facial recognition, you do not authorize a single dime.” Harrison’s tone was rock solid. “Rest assured. The system is entirely locked down. We only answer to your biometric approval.” 3 Penny had fired up a TikTok Live right in the middle of the luxury pet salon. Her stream title was written in massive, bold letters: Going Broke to Save the Fur Babies! Digital Angel Live Rescue. I tapped into the stream. The screen displayed a scene of absolute, chaotic opulence. Over a dozen professional groomers in sleek black uniforms were scrambling around, trying to wrangle twenty-eight feral, panicked dogs. Penny was strutting through the salon with a selfie stick, casually panning the camera over the shelves of exorbitant grooming products. “Guys, look at this! French rose absolute oil. A tiny bottle of this costs three hundred dollars alone!” “We’re only using the absolute highest tier of care for our babies today.” She shoved the camera into the face of a scruffy terrier that was currently pinned down for a massage. “Look at him! He’s melting, he feels so good.” “He used to dig through rotting trash for scraps, and today, he finally knows what it feels like to be truly loved.” The chat was exploding with adoration. “Penny is a literal goddess! I’m sobbing rn.” “This is what real charity looks like. Putting your money where your mouth is.” “Penny, you’re dropping a fortune! How are you going to pay rent?” Penny stared at her screen, letting a single, perfectly timed tear slip down her cheek. “It’s okay, guys. It’s incredibly expensive, but to give them a shot at a real home… I’ll empty my savings!” “As long as they’re clean and happy, I’ll happily eat instant ramen for the rest of the year!” I lounged sideways on my couch, watching her perform this nauseating martyrdom. A harsh laugh escaped my lips. Eat ramen? This was a girl who constantly begged me to cover the extra fifty cents on her UberEats delivery fees. After several hours of sheer pandemonium, the twenty-eight dogs were finally done. Their matted clumps of fur were now silky and blown out, the entire pack smelling like a botanical garden. Manager Harrison stepped right into the frame of her live stream, holding a sleek leather folio. “Miss Penny, the premium luxury packages for all twenty-eight dogs are complete.” “Additionally, due to several dogs becoming distressed during the bathing process, two of our imported Italian leather sofas were severely damaged.” “The total comes out to forty thousand dollars. Will you be paying by card or wire transfer?” The live chat froze completely for one agonizing second before scrolling at light speed. “FORTY THOUSAND?! That’s highway robbery!” “Penny, don’t pay that! Sue them!” But Penny didn’t flinch. In fact, a smug, triumphant smirk played on her lips. She waved her hand at the camera, playing the calm pacifier. “Everyone, relax. Lumina is an elite establishment. These are their standard rates.” “For the fur babies, this is just a drop in the bucket!” With that, she carefully propped her phone up against a display stand, making absolutely sure the camera had a clear, dramatic angle of her settling the bill. She grabbed the gold fountain pen, didn’t even glance at the itemized receipt, and flourished a dramatic signature at the bottom. Danica Montgomery. She slid the leather folio back toward Harrison, turning to deliver her heartfelt closing monologue to her viewers. “Alright guys, our massive rescue op is a wrap! Let’s get these babies home!” She took exactly two steps toward the door before Harrison’s arm shot out, blocking her path. “I apologize, Miss Penny. You cannot leave.” Penny paused, a deep, irritated frown forming on her perfectly contoured face. “Excuse me? I signed the slip. Just run the damn card.” Harrison looked down at her, his posture perfectly rigid. “System alert. Miss Danica Montgomery’s Obsidian card has been upgraded to maximum security protocol.” “A signature alone is insufficient for payment processing.” The color rapidly drained from Penny’s face. “What are you talking about? I’ve used it a million times, I just sign her name!” Harrison maintained his flawless, customer-service smile. “Current protocols require Miss Montgomery’s biometric facial recognition or fingerprint scan to complete this transaction.” “I have just sent a remote payment authorization request directly to Miss Montgomery’s mobile device.” Right on cue, my phone screen illuminated. A sleek pop-up notification from Lumina Spa appeared. Payment Request: $40,000.00. Without a millisecond of hesitation, I slammed my thumb down on the red Decline button. “I’m afraid there’s a problem, Miss Penny,” Harrison said, glancing down at his tablet. “Miss Montgomery has explicitly denied your payment request.”

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During the years when our love was at its most pure, Oliver spent an entire night kneeling in the freezing rain beside my mother’s grave. He was terrified I was going to break up with him. He prayed to her spirit, begging her to visit my dreams and convince me to stay. My heart softened. I took him back and uprooted my entire life to move to his city. Five years after that grand gesture, he cheated on me with a beautiful, much younger girl. For her, he was ready to quit his job, pack up his apartment, and move across the country. It was snowing heavily the day he officially asked for a break. I had walked block after block in the freezing wind just to buy a bag of hot roasted chestnuts from his favorite street vendor. My hands were numb as I asked him, “Can we just fix this? What am I supposed to do if you leave?” He stared at his phone, his face twisted with impatience. “Lily, are you seriously this obsessed? Can you really not survive without me?” I stopped begging. I wiped my tears, walked away, and erased every trace of him from my existence. Six months later, he crawled back. He was completely broke, looking like a ghost of the man I knew. He dropped to his knees, sobbing into his hands. “Can we just fix this? I can’t survive without you.” I looked down at him and spoke with perfect calm. “Then go die.” 1 Discovering Oliver’s infidelity happened on an utterly unremarkable Tuesday. I was in the kitchen prepping dinner. He had been out in his car taking a phone call for three hours. By the time he walked back through the front door, the food was ice cold. I was sitting quietly at the dining table, typing away on my laptop to finish an urgent marketing deck for my boss. I didn’t even look up. “Just microwave your plate,” I said, my voice tight with work anxiety. He gave a faint grunt of acknowledgment and headed straight for the bathroom. Maybe it was just a woman’s intuition. Something felt incredibly wrong. The old Oliver never hid in his car to take phone calls. Suddenly, the marketing deck didn’t matter. My mind was racing, searching for clues. It wasn’t until he stepped out of the steaming bathroom that I spotted it. Wrapped around his left wrist was a thin, red woven thread. It was cheap. Basic. Not a single bead or charm on it. Oliver worked in high-end fashion merchandising. He was borderline obsessive about his image and aesthetic. He coordinated his luxury watches and tailored cuffs with surgical precision. If he wore something out of place, his colleagues in Manhattan would eat him alive. There was absolutely no logical reason for him to be wearing a dollar-store friendship bracelet. He noticed me staring at his wrist. Smoothly, almost casually, he slid his hand behind his back. “I’m cutting carbs this week. Think I’ll skip dinner.” “Make sure you heat up your food when you’re done working,” he added. “Don’t eat it cold.” Then he vanished into the bedroom. I watched his back disappear as the door clicked shut. It felt like someone had just swung a baseball bat into my chest. I sat frozen at the dining table, staring at that closed white door. A horrific, prickling numbness washed over my skin. A voice echoed in the back of my skull, screaming a truth I didn’t want to hear. He is cheating on you. I don’t know how long I sat there. It was December in New York, and my entire body felt turning to ice. Fighting through the nausea, I forced myself to walk over to the bedroom. I took a deep breath and pushed the door open. Oliver jumped. He clearly hadn’t expected me to come in. His reflexes took over. He slammed his phone face-down onto the duvet. As I walked closer, he ripped out his AirPods and shoved the phone under his pillow. “You’re done already?” he asked. “That was fast.” “You should eat and hit the shower. Need me to warm up your plate?” If this were the old days, Oliver wouldn’t be asking. Whenever I had late-night projects, he would bring his iPad to the living room and sit beside me until I finished. He always knew exactly when I was about to get hungry. He would have the food hot and waiting, with a bowl of freshly washed berries on the side. I used to tease him about it. “You’re making a great housewife. You’re making me look bad.” He would pull me into his lap and say, “Then let me quit my job. You can be my sugar mama.” But whenever I agreed, he would shake his head. “Nah. I need to save up for a brownstone. I have to give you a real home.” When exactly did that boy disappear? I had no idea. Oliver’s eyes darted everywhere but my face. The guilt was suffocating the room. A wave of sheer desperation washed over me. Acting on pure impulse, I stripped off my clothes right there in front of him. I crawled onto the bed, straddled his lap, and started kissing him like my life depended on it. I needed his physical touch to prove he still loved me. I needed to know that, at the very least, we still belonged to each other in this way. But Oliver shoved me hard in the chest. He grabbed a random sweater off the floor and threw it over my naked shoulders. “Lily, what the hell are you doing?” That single question shattered whatever was left of my bleeding heart. “What am I doing? Is it that hard to figure out? I want my boyfriend.” His eyes were still dodging mine. He grabbed his phone from under the pillow, stood up, and backed away from the bed. “Let’s just not tonight. I’m exhausted.” “Go to sleep. I have to head to the office and pull an all-nighter.” It felt like an invisible hand had just slapped me across the face. Is there anything more humiliating than throwing yourself naked at the person you love, only to be looked at with disgust? Actually, yes. There is. 2 Oliver changed into fresh clothes and bolted from the apartment like it was on fire. I followed him into the hallway, wanting to scream, wanting to demand answers. But as I stood behind the heavy front door, I heard his voice echoing near the elevator bank. “Babe, why would I touch her?” “Stop overthinking. I’m going to sleep in the car.” “I know, I know. I’ll stay on the phone with you. I won’t hang up.” The elevator dinged. The doors slid shut, cutting off his voice. My hand hovered over the doorknob. I didn’t dare turn it until the hallway was dead silent. The space outside my door felt like a freezing, desolate wasteland. On his way out, he had even taken the trash I left by the door. So domestic. So cruel. The dam broke. I sank to the hardwood floor and sobbed until I was gasping for air. Why? Why was he doing this? My brain felt starved of oxygen. I stumbled over to the floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room and looked down at the street. His car was parked under a streetlight. He was sitting in the driver’s seat, phone pressed to his ear, laughing at something the girl on the other end said. He looked so relaxed. So happy. He spent the entire night in that car. I spent the entire night sitting on the cold floor by the window. At six-thirty in the morning, the car door finally opened. I scrambled back into the bedroom, threw myself under the covers, and pretended to be dead asleep. I had left the bedroom door cracked open. I heard him walk in, brush his teeth in the guest bathroom, and head back toward the front door. I heard every single footstep. Every second, I prayed he would walk into the bedroom. Just to hug me. Just to press his lips to my forehead like he had done a thousand times before. To whisper, “Going to work, baby. Love you.” If he did that, I could lie to myself. I could pretend last night was a nightmare. We could go back to the way we were. He never stepped foot in the bedroom. The front door slammed shut. I lay there for hours. I lay there until my swollen, burning eyes produced fresh tears, soaking my pillow completely through. I must have passed out from exhaustion. In my dreams, I was pulled back to the very beginning. Oliver and I were childhood friends. We grew up in the same small town in upstate New York. But it wasn’t some golden, sun-kissed coming-of-age movie. When he was eight, his parents had a messy divorce. His dad remarried a woman who didn’t want a stepson. His mom, eager to start a new life in Europe, dumped him at his grandmother’s house with ten grand in a checking account and never looked back. His grandmother lived in the apartment right above mine. I was eight years old, too. I didn’t have a dad. It was just me and my mom, scraping by. Oliver and I were like two stray dogs licking each other’s wounds. We kept each other standing. From elementary school through senior year, we didn’t spend a single day apart. He became the absolute center of my universe. When teenage hormones kicked in, the transition from best friends to first loves was seamless. We promised to go to the same college in the city. We swore we would never be separated. But when acceptance letters rolled in, I secretly changed my plans. I didn’t go to the prestigious university in Manhattan with him. I enrolled at the local state college back home. He didn’t find out until the final paperwork arrived in the mail. He stormed into my house, furious. “Why the hell would you change your major without telling me?” “Was everything we talked about just a lie?” I couldn’t bring myself to tell him the truth. My mother had just been diagnosed with a severe illness. I couldn’t leave her. Instead, I played the villain. “I just don’t have the same ambition you do. I want a quiet, boring life.” “Oliver, we just don’t make sense anymore.” We didn’t speak for the entire summer. The night before he left for the city, I found a stuffed envelope jammed under my front door. Inside was a wad of cash, maybe five hundred dollars, and a note written on lined paper. [This is the money I made flipping burgers all summer. It’s mine, not my dad’s. Use it. We’re going to figure out your mom’s medical bills together.] It broke me. I ran out into the damp evening air, crying, intending to run all the way to the bus station. But as soon as I opened the downstairs lobby door, I saw him. He was leaning against the brick wall, hands shoved in his pockets, grinning at me. I avoided his burning gaze, awkwardly wiping my face. “Why aren’t you on the bus?” He walked up and pressed a warm brown paper bag into my hands. The rich, sweet smell of roasted chestnuts filled the air. “I was worried a certain someone was too stubborn to realize she still needs me.” Whenever we fought as kids, a bag of hot roasted chestnuts was our silent truce. I took the bag and walked him to the station. Right before he boarded, he crushed me in a hug. “Lily, please don’t leave me behind. You’re all I have.” “Let’s make this official. Please?” 3 I said yes. Back then, I truly believed young love could conquer any tragedy. We dated long-distance for four years. Whenever he had a free weekend, he took the bus upstate. His Instagram and Snapchat were flooded with pictures of me. He constantly told me he wanted to make me feel secure, to prove I could always trust him. But I refused to let my baggage drag him down. Shortly after graduation, my mother passed away. I was completely alone. I handled the hospital bills, the morgue paperwork, the cremation, and the funeral plot all by myself. Oliver called me a few times. He said he had final-round interviews at top-tier firms on Wall Street. He couldn’t leave the city, but promised he’d rush back the second he secured an offer. I texted back a single word: [Okay.] The people who came to the funeral were mostly older neighbors. They all knew about me and Oliver. They stood near the buffet table, whispering about how successful he was becoming. Full academic scholarships. Bidding wars between corporate giants. He was going to put roots down in New York City and make a fortune. I listened to them, and I realized they were right. He had a massive, glittering future ahead of him. He shouldn’t be chained to a grieving orphan in a dead-end town. The day after my mother went into the ground, I sent him a text ending the relationship. Then I blocked his number, deleted my social media, and disappeared into a cheap motel where no one could find me. I spent a week existing in a numb blur. It wasn’t until his grandmother managed to get a hold of me that I found out he had come back. He had gone completely insane trying to find me. When he couldn’t, he drove to the cemetery and collapsed by my mother’s grave. He stayed on his knees in the freezing mud, begging her spirit to make me stay. Hearing that destroyed my resolve. I caved and went to the cemetery. I found him curled into a ball against her headstone. I couldn’t tell if his eyelashes were coated in morning dew or frozen tears. When he saw me, he scrambled to his feet and practically tackled me, burying his face in my neck, shaking violently. His eyes were bloodshot and wild. His voice was entirely gone. “Lily, please. Please don’t leave me.” “I’m begging you…” Looking at the boy who loved me that much, I had no defense left. We got back together. I packed up my life and moved to a tiny apartment in Queens with him. He worked insane corporate hours, so I took an easy admin job just so I could manage the apartment, cook his meals, and do his laundry. As he climbed the corporate ladder, setting his sights higher and higher, I started taking night classes, desperately trying to upgrade myself so I wouldn’t be left behind. I was still fighting for our future. How did he lose his way? My phone blaring aggressively on the kitchen counter jolted me awake. It was my boss, absolutely screaming into the receiver. She wanted to know where the marketing deck was and asked if I was trying to get fired. I squinted at the clock. It was 4:00 PM. My bones ached, and my brain felt like it was stuffed with cotton. I dragged myself out of bed and dug a thermometer out of the nightstand. I was running a massive fever. After apologizing to my boss, I threw a heavy cardigan over my pajamas and walked out to the dining table to finish the deck. Last night’s dinner was still sitting there, completely untouched. But there was a sticky note pressed to the wood. Oliver’s handwriting: [Flying out for a business trip for a few days. Throw the food out.] A hot tear splashed onto the yellow paper. Business trip. Right. He was with her. I knew it in my gut. Like a complete maniac, I started calling him. Back to back to back. He didn’t pick up once. Finally, my phone buzzed with a text. [Let’s just take some space and calm down.] Calm down? Space? What did that even mean? Total panic set in. I booted up the iPad and logged into the car’s GPS tracking app. The little blue dot was parked outside a boutique hotel downtown. Before I took an Uber there, I walked for twenty minutes through the biting wind until I found a street vendor selling hot roasted chestnuts. Clutching the warm paper bag to my chest, I found his luxury sedan in the hotel lot. I used the digital key on my phone to unlock the doors and climbed into the passenger seat. I assumed the app notification would alert him, and he would come down to see me. Instead, another text popped up. [Go home. I want to be alone right now.] I wanted to scream through the phone. Alone? Are you really alone, or is she in the bed next to you? But I was too terrified to ask. My chest felt like it was being crushed in a vice. My fingers trembled as I typed: [I have a high fever.] Ten minutes later, the elevator doors in the lobby slid open. Oliver walked out, pulled open the driver’s side door, and let out a long, heavy sigh. “Lily, if you’re sick, go to an urgent care. I’m not a doctor.” Tears blurred my vision. I reached out, desperately wanting to wrap my arms around his waist. He stiffened and leaned away from my touch. “Lily. I’m seeing someone else. You already figured that out, didn’t you?”

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