Category: English

“You bastard…” I gasped out when I learned my first love was secretly entering an arranged marriage, I fled north that same night. But he found me, brought me back to his Hong Kong villa, and kept me there for three days. The pool, the balcony, the garage—everywhere bore traces of our obsession. I cried until my voice gave out, but he only grew more intense. Finally, gripping my waist with bloodshot eyes, he pleaded, “Isabelle, please don’t leave me.” I pushed him away, weak but firm. “If you’ve chosen an arranged marriage, I won’t be your hidden mistress.” Five relentless years later, Sebastian rose to power over North Harbor, divorced immediately, and knelt before me. “Isabelle, I had no choice back then. Now, I’ll never let you suffer again.” For three years of marriage, he doted on me endlessly—racing across districts at midnight for wontons I craved, canceling meetings to kneel with me at my parents’ memorial. Everyone said Boss Sterling treasured his wife above all. Then, one night, I overheard his confidant joke, “Heard Amy’s pregnant again? You’re even more efficient there than in business!” Sebastian took a drag of his cigarette and laughed softly. “Isabelle is too proper in bed. Amy… she knows how to play.” In the dim light, I stared blankly at the positive pregnancy test in my hand, then turned to schedule an abortion. … The laughter was like a sharp blade piercing through my heart. I stood frozen, like a hollow puppet, until the waiter carefully asked, “Mrs. Sterling, you look very pale. Shall I call Boss Sterling for you?” I snapped back to reality, my voice dry. “Don’t tell him I was here.” I left the club in a daze, and that very night, I drafted the divorce agreement. The next day, as I pushed open Sebastian’s study door with the documents, he was on the phone, his tone unusually gentle. Seeing me, he immediately put away his phone. “Isabelle?” He smiled and pulled me closer. “Why the sudden visit? Did you miss me?” Catching sight of the documents in my hand, his eyes held a hint of indulgence. “Do you want to buy jewelry again? Just take money from the account, no need to show it to me specifically.” I looked at his usual gentle demeanor, about to speak. “No, it’s for the divo…” The word “divorce” hadn’t even left my lips when a subordinate suddenly burst in. “Boss Sterling! Ms. Thorne is downstairs, says you’re not answering her calls, and wants you to come down immediately! Otherwise, she’ll go find other men!” Sebastian’s face changed drastically. He grabbed his jacket and headed out. “Isabelle, I have an urgent matter. You wait here for me!” He left in such a hurry that his shoulder bumped me, sending me stumbling. My side hit the corner of the mahogany desk hard. A sharp pain made my vision go black. I barely managed to stand, waiting in the study for three hours. Until my phone lit up with a post from his old friend: [Only Amy has the guts! Making Boss Sterling himself kneel to put on her shoes!] In the photo, Sebastian was indeed kneeling on one knee, carefully tying Amy’s high heel straps. Everything had an answer. I no longer needed to wait. I walked out and hailed a car directly to the private hospital. On the operating table, the doctor frowned at my medical record. “Mrs. Sterling, you’re expecting twins. Are you really not going to reconsider?” I shook my head, touching my lower abdomen for the last time with reluctance. “They… came at the wrong time.” The surgery quickly ended. When I opened my eyes again, the heavy tugging sensation in my lower abdomen was gone. I suppressed the sting in my nose and slowly walked out of the hospital. Just as I reached the entrance, I ran straight into Sebastian, who was rushing in. He grabbed my wrist. “Isabelle, why didn’t you wait for me last night?” “I signed the document you left in the study and put it in the bedroom. The bodyguard said you came to the hospital. Are you feeling unwell somewhere?” His brows were tightly furrowed, his eyes full of concern. But I no longer had the strength to feign anything, calmly pulling my hand away. “It’s nothing, just treating a back injury.” Only then did he remember bumping into me last night, his face filled with regret. He reached out to touch my waist. “I’m sorry, I was in such a hurry then…” Before he could finish, a seductive female voice cut in. “Boss Sterling, quite the mood you’re in, pulling your wife around in broad daylight. Do you need me to sponsor something, send you two to get a room?” Amy, in a tight spaghetti-strap dress, showcased her graceful figure. Behind her followed a group of men in suits, exuding an extraordinary aura, surrounding her like a moon amongst stars. Sebastian’s hand, hanging by his side, suddenly clenched. He asked coldly, “Amy, what are you doing here?” “What am I doing?” She raised her red lips, her finger lifting the chin of a handsome man next to her. “I’m here for my prenatal check-up, since the baby’s father isn’t around, I have to find someone to accompany me, don’t I?” She glanced at me, her smile deepening. “Boss Sterling, you should worry less about me and spend more time with Mrs. Sterling, lest she blames me again.” A sharp cramp in my lower abdomen grew stronger. I pushed Sebastian’s hand away. “You two chat. I’m leaving.” Sebastian chased after me. “Isabelle, don’t misunderstand. I didn’t know she would be here today…” I interrupted him. “I’m tired. I want to go home.” Seeing my pale face, he helped me into his black SUV. On the way, he kept trying to soothe me until his phone vibrated. A message lit up the screen: [Sebastian, I’m registering the baby’s birth. If you’re not here in ten minutes, I’ll pick the most handsome of these men to be our son’s father!] Sebastian slammed on the brakes, his lips pressed into a tight line. After a long moment, he said hoarsely, “Isabelle, I have an urgent business matter. Get out of the car first, I’ll have the driver pick you up.” Before I could react, he had already pushed open the car door. The SUV roared and sped away, splashing me with mud. I stood in the cold drizzle, watching the taillights disappear at the end of the mountain road, my blood running cold. It was completely dark when I finally hitched a ride back to the hilltop villa in a delivery van. Soaking wet, I opened the door to a pitch-black living room. That night, Sebastian didn’t come home. He only reappeared early the next morning, his eyes bloodshot, yet his expression seemed lighter. “Isabelle, I was negotiating a big deal last night. It ended too late, so I just slept at the club, afraid of waking you.” I looked at the lipstick stain on his suit collar, lowered my head, and said nothing. Sebastian’s expression flickered with panic. He quickly pulled out a velvet box. Inside was a beautifully translucent jade bangle, with excellent clarity. “Don’t be angry anymore. Grandpa’s seventieth birthday is in a couple of days. He’s always doted on you the most. Come with me, okay?” I wanted to refuse, but the words caught in my throat. Back then, no one in the Sterling family thought much of me, the daughter of a small-town carpenter from the borderlands. Only Grandpa would smile warmly and call me “little Isabelle” every time he saw me. Consider it… a farewell to the old man. The birthday banquet was held at the Sterling family’s ancestral home. As soon as we arrived, we saw Amy in a vibrant red dress, standing in the center of the hall. Sebastian’s face instantly darkened. He stepped in front of me. “Who allowed you to come?” “I was once Grandpa’s granddaughter-in-law, after all. Can’t I come to offer birthday wishes?” Amy pouted, her gaze suddenly fixed on my wrist. She abruptly rolled up her own sleeve. On her wrist was a matching diamond-studded jade bracelet. Her face changed drastically. She fiercely tore off the bracelet and threw it at Sebastian. “Sebastian, you’re trying to fob me off with scraps that belong to your wife? You’re really something!” She turned to leave in her high heels. Sebastian instinctively moved to follow but stopped himself, turning to grab my hand. “Isabelle, that bracelet was an old item she used to offset her family’s debts. I just casually…” “Casually what?” I smiled. “Casually gave it back to her? Next time, will you even casually give yourself back?” A flicker of panic crossed Sebastian’s eyes. He was about to explain when a sudden scream erupted in the hall: “Watch out! Gunman!” The crowd instantly scattered! A person dressed like a waiter pulled out a handgun from under a tray, and the barrel was pointed directly at Amy! Sebastian, almost instinctively, shoved me backwards, then lunged towards Amy like a leopard! “Bang!” The moment the gunshot cracked, he wrapped his arms around Amy and rolled behind the curtains. The bullet struck where Amy had just been standing, sending sparks flying. I was pushed back, stumbling, and knocked over a champagne tower. Cold wine mixed with shattered glass splattered all over me, soaking my dress, which clung to my body, leaving me utterly disheveled. But Sebastian, from start to finish, never once looked back at me. He gripped Amy’s shoulders, his voice laced with suppressed anger. “Are you an idiot? Standing there like a target?!” Amy, her eyes red, pounded his chest. “I wish I’d died! …Anyway, you don’t care, so don’t pretend… Ah!” She suddenly cried out in pain, bending over and clutching her ankle. A flying bullet fragment had grazed her calf, and blood was seeping out. Sebastian’s brows furrowed tightly. He scooped her up in his arms and strode quickly towards a lounge. I was completely forgotten, left standing where I was. That ridiculous spark of hope in my heart shattered completely. I wiped the wine from my face, dragging my damp, cold dress, and walked towards the side room. A maid brought me clean clothes and a cup of hot tea. “Thank you,” I said hoarsely. “Please tell Grandpa that Isabelle isn’t feeling well and can’t join his birthday celebration… I’m sorry.” With that, I took off the jade bangle and tossed it into the trash can. Then I opened the door, ready to leave, but was suddenly blocked. Amy’s calf was bandaged, but her face showed no trace of panic, only blatant triumph. “Isabelle Lin, trying to leave already?” She blocked the doorway, lowering her voice. “Let me tell you something, that gunman, he was someone I arranged.” She leaned closer, satisfied to see my expression instantly freeze. “Sebastian acts like he cherishes you, but when it truly comes down to life and death, his body reacts faster than his brain. He only cares about me.” “Instinct can’t be faked. Being Mrs. Sterling, you’re quite boring, aren’t you?” She scoffed. “A wild chicken might fly onto a branch, but it won’t become a phoenix. There’s no room for you in his heart anymore.” “But then again, it’s no surprise. Three years of marriage, and in bed, you’re like a block of wood. Touch you once and you tremble and cry. What man could stand that?” I felt like I’d been stripped naked and thrown into the snow, cold from my fingertips to my core. I have a weak constitution, and Sebastian’s movements were rough. At night, the pain brought tears, completely beyond my control… did he even tell her that? When they were messing around in bed, did they also use me as a topic to spice things up? The extreme humiliation made me raise my hand and slap her hard! Amy’s face snapped to the side, and a red imprint immediately appeared. She shrieked, “You dare hit me?!” “You eagerly threw yourself into being a mistress. What’s wrong with hitting you?” The word “mistress” stung, and her eyes hardened. She suddenly grabbed my wrist. “Bitch, you…” Footsteps sounded from the stairs. Amy’s eyes changed. She suddenly grabbed my hand, pushed it against her own chest, and shrieked as she fell backward. “Amy!” The bottle of medicine in Sebastian’s hand clattered to the floor. He rushed down the stairs to help her up, then looked at me, his brows tightly furrowed. “Isabelle, why did you push her?” He paused, then seemed to understand. “Because I saved her? That was an emergency; I would have saved anyone. Don’t be unreasonable.” My eyes welled up, but I smiled. “Sebastian, I’ll only say this once: I didn’t push her. If you don’t believe me, then divorce.” His movements froze. He released Amy’s hand, his eyes showing disappointment. “You pushed her, you pushed her. I won’t do anything to you. Is it interesting to threaten me with divorce?” Just then, Amy moaned. Sebastian immediately turned. “Bodyguards! Send Mrs. Sterling back to the hilltop villa. She’s not allowed to leave the mountain without my orders!” I stared at him in disbelief. Before I could speak, two burly men grabbed my arms and dragged me away. I was virtually held captive in the hilltop villa. For seven whole days, apart from the maid who brought food, no one spoke to me. Until my phone vibrated. An unknown number sent several photos. A dim private room, two almost naked bodies in various positions, one clearly showing Amy’s slightly swollen abdomen. A live erotic painting. Below it was a message: [Isabelle Lin, learn a lesson. Your man can’t even resist me while I’m pregnant. He said you’re like a dead fish, and he wasn’t wrong.] [He ruined my family, then brought me back to sleep with me. Do you think he hates me, or loves me to madness?] The phone dropped to the floor. I rushed into the bathroom, throwing up until I was dizzy. With trembling hands, I blocked the number and stared at the calendar on the wall. Three more days. In three days, the divorce agreement would take effect, and I could finally leave this prison forever. The next day, as I was packing, Sebastian kicked open the door and slammed his phone on the table. “Isabelle! What have you done!” On the screen, those indecent photos were wildly circulating online, with a stinging headline: [Boss Sterling forcibly occupies bankrupt ex-wife, driven mad by hatred]. Sebastian’s eyes were bloodshot. “You took these photos? And posted them online? Do you know how much trouble this has caused me?!” “Several of my businesses have been investigated! Amy’s backer has already vowed to pursue this to the end!” “How could you be so foolish? I truly regret…” “Regret marrying me?” I finished his sentence for him, my voice hoarse from laughter. “‘Isabelle is too well-behaved, too restrained in bed. Amy, having been in the pleasure quarters, can handle any kind of play. She’s got spice.’ …How many times have you slept with her behind my back all these years?” “Keeping me in the dark, watching me foolishly love you, while you forcibly took advantage of your ex-wife. Were you particularly proud, Sebastian Sterling?!” His face stiffened. A subordinate urgently knocked on the door. “Boss Sterling! People from Amy’s side are here. They say they’ve traced the photo source to Mrs. Sterling’s phone!” Sebastian’s eyes instantly turned cold. He ordered outside the door, “Notify the security team! Take Mrs. Sterling to the basement for reflection!” As I was being led away by two subordinates, he lowered his voice. “Isabelle, this is your own doing. Don’t ever touch Amy again.” Three days in the basement felt like hell. The day I was released, I thought the nightmare was finally over. But as I stepped out of the villa gate, I was knocked unconscious. When I woke up, I found myself thrown onto a poker table in a casino lobby, completely naked. The sound of camera shutters and whistles around me was deafening. I screamed and rushed back to the villa, but the online trending topics had already exploded: [Mrs. Sterling suspected of mental breakdown, publicly seeking affection in casino]. I knew Amy did it. And I knew Sebastian had implicitly allowed it. I trembled as I booked a flight and asked my lawyer to retrieve the signed divorce agreement. As I was packing, a bodyguard came over with a phone. “Mrs. Sterling, Boss Sterling is looking for you.”

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1 I was born a human lie detector. When people lie to me, they hiccup—a telltale glitch that makes even the smoothest deceptions clear as glass. But knowing too much truth leaves you utterly alone. Then Eleanor Kensington, matriarch of the Kensington Group, appeared. She took my hands, her diamond rings digging into my skin. “Someone inside is cooking the books. After two years of failed audits, you’re the only one who can look them in the eye and tell me who it is.” She offered a hundred grand a month and promised if her son, Declan, ever wronged me, I could leave with a fortune. Having no real friends anyway, I accepted. For three years of marriage, I uncovered five executives stealing from the company, recovering over a hundred and fifty million dollars. The Kensingtons became an untouchable fortress, and I moved from a tiny apartment to a Hampton estate so large I could bike down its halls. One Tuesday, pedaling past Declan’s study, I heard him and his partner Carter talking. “The books are clean. Isn’t it time you got rid of your freakshow wife?” Carter said. “Give her severance, say we’re restructuring.” “And if she refuses?” “Who’ll take her side? She has no friends.” I stopped my bike, knocked, and pushed the door open. “Let’s draw up the divorce papers now,” I said, looking at Declan. “Sinclair Enterprises is desperate—their board is throwing blank checks at anyone who can find their missing funds. I’m sure they’d love a human lie detector at their door. Beats hiring the Big Four.” Catherine. How long have you been standing there? Declan’s voice held no surprise. Just the cold irritation of a man whose neatly arranged schedule had been disrupted. Carter recovered quickly. He leaned back into the leather sofa and crossed one leg over the other. Perfect timing, actually. Saves Declan the trouble of breaking the news to you. He doesn’t need to break anything. I leaned the bicycle against the doorframe. Do we have the papers ready? If not, I can wait by the printer. Declan had not anticipated this. He probably thought I would cry. Beg. Demand answers. Or refuse to leave the gold-plated cage. After all, like he just said, where else would a friendless woman go? He walked around the mahogany desk and shoved his hands into his tailored pockets. Are you absolutely sure you have thought this through? After three years, I knew that body language. Hands in the pockets meant the verdict was already sealed. Now it was just administrative work. Crystal clear. But one quick question. Is that hundred grand before or after taxes? Carter let out a sharp laugh. Declan did not even smile. His eyes swept over my face like he was taking inventory of a broken piece of office equipment ready for the scrapyard. My lawyers will email you the paperwork, Catherine. But let me make one thing abundantly clear. You signed an NDA. Every piece of corporate data, every scandal, every name you caught. Not a single word leaves your mouth. Including the names of the embezzlers? Including everything. They were gagging me. Before I could reply, Carter stood up. He reached down and adjusted his silver cufflink. I had watched him do that for three years. It was his physical starting pistol right before he said something incredibly cruel. Catherine, do not take it personally. The board just hired Dr. Mia. She has a Ph.D. in criminal psychology from an Ivy League. She uses micro-expression analysis. Actual science. He put a heavy, crushing weight on the word science. The Kensington Group no longer needs to rely on… He paused, tasting the insult before letting it drop. Voodoo. Voodoo. Three years ago, Declan’s mother sat in my dingy apartment and called me their last hope. Now, I was voodoo. A parlor trick. But right as he said the word voodoo, he hiccuped. It was a soft, muffled sound, rolling up from the back of his throat. He did not even notice it. But I did. That hiccup meant he did not believe I was a parlor trick. He knew exactly how terrifying my gift was. He just wanted to grind me into the dirt anyway. Fine. I grabbed a custom pen off the desk, skimmed the nondisclosure agreement for two minutes, and signed my name on the bottom line. As Declan took the folder back, his phone buzzed. He had just wired me the hundred grand. The memo line read: For three years of service. No thank you. No apologies. Not even the fake excuse about European restructuring. Walking back out into the hallway, it felt longer than before. Halfway down, I saw two maids carrying cardboard boxes out the side door. Fast and efficient. My things. They had already packed my life away. This was not a spur-of-the-moment decision. It was choreographed. They had probably practiced their facial expressions in the mirror. I just happened to ruin their opening night. Mrs. Kensington. Your items are all here. Two boxes. I brought two boxes when I moved in. I was leaving with two. I carried them out through the wrought-iron gates. The June evening wind rustled through the sycamore trees, smelling of fresh-cut grass and gasoline. The gates clicked shut behind me. The heavy metallic thud sounded like a goodbye no one wanted to say out loud. Sitting on the curb, I pulled out my phone and scrolled through my contacts. Three people. Eleanor Kensington. The estate butler. And a delivery guy who brought me Thai food on Tuesdays. Declan was right. A woman without a single friend. That line didn’t make him hiccup. It was the brutal truth, and that was why it cut right down to the bone. I took a deep breath, opened my hidden folder, and tapped a number I had saved a month ago. The private line to the CEO of Sinclair Enterprises. I had seen a top-secret competitor analysis file in Declan’s study. The Sinclair board was getting absolutely cannibalized by internal fraud. It rang four times. Executive office of Sinclair Enterprises. Put me through to Nate Sinclair. Tell him Declan Kensington’s ex-wife is calling. Five seconds later, the line clicked. A deep, gravelly voice bled through the speaker. It sounded like sandpaper dragging across cello strings. The voice of a man who had not slept in days. Catherine? He knew who I was. Mr. Sinclair. I hear you are looking for someone to audit your ghosts. You signed a non-compete and an NDA. I am not auditing Kensington. I tightened my grip on the cardboard box resting on my knees. I am auditing you. Dead silence on the line. When Nate finally spoke, the texture of his voice had changed. It sounded like a match striking in a pitch-black room. Tomorrow. Nine sharp. Floor thirty-two. Do not be late. 2 So you are the walking polygraph. Nate Sinclair leaned against the edge of his massive mahogany desk, his arms crossed over his chest. He was younger than I pictured. Late twenties, maybe thirty. Sharp jawline, heavy brow, but the dark circles under his eyes were so deep no concealer could ever hide them. His office was cavernous, but three of the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves were completely empty. The dust outlines of where the books used to be were still visible. Sold them. Sinclair Enterprises was bleeding out faster than I thought. Take a seat. He gestured to the leather chair opposite him. I stayed standing. Test me first. He raised an eyebrow. You brought me in, but you don’t believe it. That is normal. Nobody ever believes it at first. Say a few true things, then say a lie. Feel it for yourself. Nate stared at me for three long seconds before dropping his arms. Alright. I had a ribeye steak for dinner last night. Silence. No hiccup. Truth. I said. He kept going. The current financial health of Sinclair Enterprises is robust, and there is no internal fraud. Hiccup. It popped out of his chest, a dull thud against his ribs. The cool facade on his face cracked right down the middle. His hand instinctively shot up to touch his throat. That is impossible. I do not hiccup. You do when you look at me. He tried one more. I decided to meet you today on a whim. No hiccup. Truth. I finally sank into the leather chair. Mr. Sinclair, we can do this a hundred times. But in front of me, there are only two options. Fact, or fiction. A heavy, suffocating silence filled the room. He tapped his fingers against the edge of the desk, the rhythm slow, like a metronome calculating a risk. Assume I believe you. How exactly do you help me? How many partners do you have on the board? Seven. Put them all in one room. I will ask them questions down the line. Whoever lies, hiccups. We catch them in broad daylight. It is that simple? It is that simple. He picked up his desk phone. Toby. Get the seven partners into the main conference room at ten o’clock. Tell them it is an emergency financial review. He hung up, looking at me with a lingering shadow of doubt. What is your rate? See the results first. If you like the show, you write the check. At ten o’clock on the dot, seven executives filed into the glass-walled conference room. As they took their seats, the stares began. Curious, disdainful, defensive. A bald man on the far left stared at me for two seconds before turning to Nate. Nate, who is the guest? Our external risk management consultant. Catherine. The bald man scoffed loudly. I opened the financial summary folder Nate gave me and turned to the first page. Good morning. I am going to ask a few simple questions. I expect honest answers. Number one. In the past twelve months, has anyone at this table authorized an off-the-books expenditure? A beat of absolute silence. A tall man in a tailored suit answered first. No. No hiccup. A woman in wire-rimmed glasses. No. No hiccup. It was the bald man’s turn. No. Hiccup. It was loud. A wet, hollow sound like a fist hitting a snare drum. The entire room froze. The bald man rubbed his throat violently. Swallowed wrong. Choked on my own spit. I completely ignored him. Question number two. Have you ever shared internal Sinclair financial data with an external party? Of course not. Hiccup. Louder this time. The other six partners started exchanging frantic looks. I leaned forward. Have you ever heard of an offshore entity called Avalon Holdings? The bald man, Gage, jerked backward in his chair. His lips parted, but no sound came out. He didn’t dare speak. Because he knew the second he said no, his own throat would betray him. Nate took over, his voice cold enough to snap steel. Gage. You have the right to remain silent, but the legal department is seizing your hard drives at noon. Gage shoved his chair back. It screeched horribly against the hardwood. He bolted out of the conference room, slamming the heavy glass door so hard the floor vibrated. The remaining six partners slowly turned their heads to look at me. The weight in their eyes had changed. They were not looking at a consultant anymore. They were looking at a terrifying, hyper-precise weapon. I recognized that look. I lived with it at the Kensington estate for three years. Freak. They weren’t saying it, but it was echoing in their skulls. After the room cleared out, Nate asked me to stay behind. Two minutes. One parasite gutted. The way he looked at me had shifted too. Earlier, it was a test. Now, it was an evaluation. He was calculating my blast radius. Catherine. Declan used you for three years and only caught five people. Why? Because some people are smart. I kept my eyes on the polished table. They never speak a single lie in my presence. They only state verifiable, unarguable facts. They hide behind the truth. And when they do that, I cannot touch them. He frowned. I caught five of Declan’s ghosts. But the sixth… in three years, the sixth person never spoke a single word about money when I was in the room. Who is it? I didn’t answer. The ink on my NDA was still wet. He didn’t push it. A frantic knock shattered the quiet. Toby, Nate’s assistant, burst in. He looked completely rattled. Mr. Sinclair. The Kensington people are downstairs. Carter Brooks is here personally, and he brought… A behavioral analyst. I finished his sentence. Toby shot me a wildly confused look. I stood up and smoothed out the collar of my blouse. Her name is Dr. Mia. She is the weapon the Kensington board bought to replace me. Nate leaned forward, his hands flat on the desk. How did you know she would come here? Because the Kensingtons want to burn every bridge I could possibly walk across. I stared at the door, my voice dead flat. She is not here to collaborate. She is here to steal my job. The door pushed open. Carter strolled in first, exuding the effortless arrogance of a man playing with house money. Right behind him was a woman in a razor-sharp black skirt suit. Low ponytail, pale skin, a perfectly measured smile. She saw me and widened her eyes in flawless, manufactured surprise. Catherine? Oh my god, what a coincidence. You are here too! 3 What a crazy coincidence finding you here, Catherine. Mia’s voice was sweet enough to pour over pancakes. As she walked in, her eyes swept the room. A rapid, microscopic scan that missed absolutely nothing. She was a professional. Carter adjusted his silver cufflink, his tone as casual as a man discussing the weather. Mr. Sinclair, let me introduce Dr. Mia. Top-tier expert in micro-expression analysis. Sinclair and Kensington might be rivals, but when it comes to risk management, we can share resources, right? Nate did not take the bait. He just glanced at me. I stayed completely silent. Mia did not miss a beat. She extended a hand to Nate, then turned to me, dialing up the wattage on her smile. Catherine, I heard you just caught a mole for Mr. Sinclair? That is so impressive. Right as she said impressive, she hiccuped. It was tiny. Just a little bubble popping in her chest. She obviously didn’t notice. But I heard it loud and clear. She did not find me impressive at all. Carter. Nate finally spoke, his voice dry. You didn’t drive all the way across town just to play door-to-door salesman. Carter chuckled. Not selling anything. Dr. Mia has quite the reputation. Half of Wall Street uses her software. I brought her today to give you a complimentary demonstration. He paused and let his eyes slide over to me. And, you know, a little A/B testing never hurt anyone. Let’s see whose method is more effective. You can judge for yourself, Nate. A side-by-side comparison. He wanted to put me and Mia on a scale in front of my new boss and watch me tip into the mud. Nate frowned. I don’t think that is necessary. Mr. Sinclair, Mia cut in, her voice soft but coated in iron. I have been in this field for six years. I use a peer-reviewed Facial Action Coding System. It is not… She pretended to search for the right words. It is not an unverified gut feeling. That sentence triggered no hiccup. She genuinely believed that. She thought I was a total hack. Nate looked at me. Do you mind? he asked. I held out a hand. Be my guest. Mia set up the test with terrifying speed. She had Toby pull three random Sinclair employees into an interrogation room next door. The room was divided by a one-way mirrored glass. Mia and I sat on the dark side of the glass, a microphone console resting between us. The rules are simple, Mia explained, tapping her manicured nail against the desk. All three employees will state a claim. One of them is lying about a fake expense report. Catherine and I will individually spot the liar. Reasonable. Except for one massive detail. The glass. They were in another room. My gift… my curse… only works when the person is lying to my face. To me. Not through a speaker. Not through a reinforced mirrored wall. My spine locked up. Mia had already pressed the intercom button. Subject One, begin. The voice fed through the speaker. A guy reading a monotonous excuse about a business dinner receipt. I strained my ears. No hiccup. But I couldn’t tell if he was telling the truth, or if the glass was acting as a shield. Subject Two. No hiccup. Subject Three. No hiccup. My fingers dug into the plastic barrel of my pen until it cracked. No one had ever tested me with a wall between us. Because at the Kensington estate, the golden rule was that all interrogations had to be face-to-face. Did Mia not know the rule? No. I saw the tiny, razor-thin smirk at the corner of her mouth. She knew exactly what she was doing. I have my verdict. Mia spoke first. Subject Two is lying. When he described the dollar amount, there was a zero-point-three-second micro-contraction in his right brow ridge. His lip corner pulled down forty percent past the baseline. It sounded clinical. Flawless. Bulletproof. Everyone turned to look at me. Catherine? Your turn. I stared through the glass at the three people sitting completely still in the sterile room. I need them in this room. Face to face. Mia tilted her head, performing perfect, innocent confusion. Catherine, what does face to face have to do with it? I thought you said you could just tell when people lie? My ability requires proximity. So the second you aren’t close enough, the magic turns off? Carter’s voice dripped with mocking delight from the back of the room. See, Nate? This is exactly what I was talking about. Unverified gut feelings. Nate remained silent. But I saw his index finger tap against the table once. He was hesitating. Mia’s verdict was locked in. Subject Two. Toby went next door to confirm with the script. The answer came back. Subject Two was the liar. He was given a fake number to read on purpose. Mia smiled. It was warm and entirely devoid of aggression, which somehow made it slice twice as deep. Catherine, I mean absolutely no offense. But some lines of work require actual science. Don’t you agree? When she said those words… Hiccup. Just one. Faint and fast. She hiccuped on I mean no offense. She meant every ounce of offense. This entire spectacle was a targeted assassination of my credibility. But in that room, nobody cared about the hiccup. They only cared about the scoreboard. Mia got it right. I choked. Carter stood up, slowly adjusting his cuffs. Mr. Sinclair, take your time deciding. The Kensington Group is happy to lease Dr. Mia’s services to you whenever you are ready to upgrade. As he walked past my chair, he dropped his voice to a whisper only I could hear. Your little parlor trick is dead, Catherine. When he said dead, he did not hiccup. He firmly believed my career was over. I stood in the empty conference room watching them leave. Nate didn’t follow them out. He lingered near the heavy oak doors. Catherine. Yeah. Why did you need to be in the same room for that test? Because my gift is real. I looked down at the carpet. My voice felt hollow, thinner than I wanted it to be. But it has rules. The person has to be in front of me. Glass, walls, phone calls… they block it out. Nate let that sit in the air for a few seconds. Then why didn’t you say that from the beginning? Because nobody believes it anyway. I looked up and met his eyes. Nate. You spent three years hunting your ghosts and found nothing. I spent two minutes and handed you Gage. Is that not enough? His expression was impossible to read. It was a tangled mess of calculation, but at the very least, there was no disgust. Right as he opened his mouth to reply, Toby rushed back into the room. He was clutching a tablet, his face pale. Mr. Sinclair. Dr. Mia’s PR team just posted something on Twitter. Toby handed the tablet over. It was Mia’s verified professional account. The bio read: Behavioral Analyst / Criminal Psychologist. The newest tweet had a glossy photo of her smiling in a boardroom. Just did a risk management demo for a major firm. Ran into a woman claiming to be a “human polygraph.” But she demanded to be face-to-face, claiming her magic powers vanish through a glass window. Science respec ts hypotheses, but repeatability and verification are the bare minimum. Stay rational out there, corporate America. Don’t fall for superpowers. The comment section was already exploding with thousands of replies. LMAO human polygraph? So she’s basically a tarot card reader for corporate. How does a fraud like that even get into a boardroom? Ivy League micro-expressions vs. magical hiccups. If you believe the hiccups, you need a psych eval. I stared at the glowing screen. I tapped my thumb against the plastic edge of the tablet twice. Nate shifted his gaze from the screen to my face. Catherine. What is your play here? I am not playing anything. I handed the tablet back to Toby. I am just wondering whose orders Mia was following when she hit post. You think Carter put her up to it? She hiccuped when she said ‘I mean no offense’. I looked dead into Nate’s tired eyes. Aren’t you curious, Nate? Why is the Kensington Group so utterly desperate to erase me from this industry?

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I became the villainess and the System gave me a mission: to make both twin male leads fall in love with me at the same time. They were pure, unadulterated psychos! Even if the System wasn’t wiped out, those two would happily send me straight to my grave. I decided to just give up, walked into a club, picked two male models, and decided to have some fun before I died. After a night of heavy drinking, I woke up stunned. When did the male models turn into the male leads? On my left, my brother leaned in close, “My dearest fiancée, did you enjoy playing with me?” On my right, my brother wrapped his arm around my waist, “Sister-in-law, were those paid men as good as me?” My breathing hitched. I tried hard to remember. Ugh, I think I blacked out. So… who exactly did I sleep with? 1 I woke up groggily, feeling warmth on both sides of me. My body stiffened, and I slowly turned my head to the right. A face of exquisite beauty was suddenly magnified before me. I gasped, then tremblingly looked to the other side, where an identical handsome face was nestled on my shoulder. My pupils dilated in shock, blood rushing to my head. Oh my god! These two… they’re the twin male leads the System told me to conquer! Why were they lying naked beside me? Their necks and abs were covered in hickeys, clearly indicating some intimate activity. And me, the villainess of this novel, how did I end up lying between them? Did I… sleep with both of them? “Finally decided to wake up.” A hoarse, cold laugh suddenly came from my left. My scalp tingled as I met Julian’s terrifying eyes. He gripped my neck, leaning closer. “My dearest fiancée, did you enjoy playing with me?” I smiled, looking worse than crying. “Should I… be enjoying myself?” My waist suddenly felt heavy, and I was pulled into an embrace, a scorching chest pressing against my back. “Sister-in-law, were those wild men you paid for as good as me?” Their words were so ambiguously intimate, I felt faint just listening to them. “If I said I blacked out, would you believe me?” 2 Last night, I transmigrated into an old-fashioned, dramatic romance novel. I was the villainess, obsessed with the elder twin brother. In a year, these two twisted brothers would gouge out my eyes and take my kidneys to save the female lead. And that damned transmigration system told me: My mission was to make both twin brothers’ affection for me reach 100% within a year, or else I’d be eliminated. I shivered, remembering their cruel methods. This was an impossible mission. Since I was going to die anyway, I might as well die comfortably. I grabbed the original owner’s platinum card and rushed to a top-tier nightclub, ordered two escorts, but got too drunk. My memory was fragmented. I vaguely remembered going to the restroom midway, coming back, and then dragging them to a hotel room. So, who exactly did I sleep with? Julian? Adrian? Or in turns… Or together… In the novel, their characters were described as two extremely twisted sociopaths who enjoyed sharing everything, including people. There seemed to be some hidden settings, which the System said I needed to discover myself. But I was already resigned to death and couldn’t be bothered with its nonsense. But now, whether it was one or both, I was completely screwed. The more I thought about it, the more I broke down, screaming internally. “System, what exactly did I do last night, and who did I sleep with? Tell me now!” System: [This system has built-in privacy protection. The footage here is pixelated and cannot be verified.] Heh, what good are you?! 3 “Blacking out is good.” Adrian narrowed his eyes, smiling as he leaned in to kiss me. “If you blacked out, sister-in-law, you’ll just have to accept me too. I’m willing to be your… companion.” Julian forcefully slapped Adrian’s face. “Show some respect. She’s your future sister-in-law.” Adrian looked utterly wronged. “Why be so stingy? We’re lying in the same bed now, aren’t we family? Can’t the three of us just live happily together?” He even deliberately showed off the bite marks I’d left on him. “Brother, look, sister-in-law left me a mark. You don’t have one.” “Oh, she’s my fiancée.” “…” Julian’s expression was cold as he threw back the covers and got out of bed. I unexpectedly saw the large claw marks on his back and covered my face. He calmly stepped over the scattered clothes on the floor, glancing at me. “Ten minutes. Clean yourself up and get out of bed.” With that, he walked into the bathroom without looking back. Through the frosted glass, his tall and imposing figure was faintly visible. The sound of water began, leaving only me and Adrian, half-reclining on the bed, in the room. I sat stiffly in place, not even daring to breathe too loudly. As expected of an old-fashioned novel, the male leads had no shame! Adrian rested his head on one hand, playing with my hair with amused interest. “Sister-in-law, is my brother more handsome, or am I?” I flinched back in fright. “Stay away from me.” Adrian’s smile didn’t fade. “You weren’t like this last night. You were very passionate with me, you really liked me.” I cautiously asked, “So yesterday, was it with you, or with… both of you?” “Last night…” He deliberately drew out his words, keeping me in suspense. Seeing how nervous I was, his smile widened. “You got drunk and insisted on taking me home to sleep, and you also forced my brother…” “And then that’s how it happened.” I felt he was making things up, but I had no proof. Just as I meekly tried to defend myself, the System’s prompt sounded in my mind again. [Beep! Detected strong emotional fluctuations from Julian…] [Beep! Detected strong emotional fluctuations from Adrian…] [Overall assessment in progress…] [Congratulations, Host! Both conquest targets’ affection values have simultaneously reached 100%! Mission complete!] [Mission rewards issued: Host’s elimination crisis removed, permanent residency in this world granted.] [This is a fictional world. As the villainess, please ensure your survival and keep yourself safe.] [System service concluded. Wishing you a pleasant life and a long one!] I was completely dumbfounded. How did the mission get completed? Did we really fall in love after sleeping together? Also, what did “keep yourself safe” mean? Would I have other dangers? 4 Julian came out wrapped in a bath towel, calmly putting on his suit right in front of me. He quickly reverted to his untouchable CEO persona from the novel. Noticing my dazed expression, he didn’t even glance at Adrian on the bed, walking directly to my side. “Still not out of bed.” His tone was intimidating. I scrambled up, but accidentally stumbled. Adrian instinctively tried to help me. I quickly grabbed Julian. “Fiancé, I… my legs are weak.” He looked at my chest with a cold face. “Flirting with me won’t work. The full reckoning must be settled.” I looked down to find myself completely naked, let out a scream, and rushed into the bathroom, enduring the discomfort. Seeing the woman in the mirror, my lips trembled in fright. My lips were swollen and red, and my neck downwards was covered in marks, a truly gruesome sight. Anyone with a bit of imagination would know how fierce the battle was last night. I tremblingly turned on the shower, and the warm water streamed down, but it couldn’t wash away my desire to die. I dawdled for an hour before coming out. Adrian was sitting on the bed playing with his phone, and Julian was standing at the foot of the bed talking on the phone. Hearing the movement, both of them looked up at me simultaneously, their gazes like knives. I huddled in my bathrobe, not daring to look up, inching towards where my torn dress lay. Julian, however, stepped on the hem of my dress. I gave a slight tug. “…I should go.” Adrian looked utterly shocked. “Sister-in-law, didn’t I satisfy you yet? Are you going to look for those other men? Are they really that good?” “No, I’m going home!” I explained. He grinned, a brilliant smile. “This is your home. Where else do you want to go?” I wished I could find a hole to crawl into. Julian stared at me with heavy eyes. “Let’s talk.” Adrian shyly interjected, “Indeed, we need to discuss how sister-in-law will be fair with her affections in the future.” I stumbled in shock, grabbing the wall for support. “Please, stop this! My small frame can’t handle such blessings!” Adrian was about to speak again, but Julian gave him a warning glare. He shrugged, saying nothing more, but his gaze made me extremely nervous. It was as if he was undressing me piece by piece with his eyes. Julian’s eyes were cold. “Celeste Song, whether yesterday was an accident or your deliberate plan…” “It was an accident!” I held up three fingers. “I swear, I just wanted to sleep with two male escorts, I absolutely never thought of looking for you two!” The air instantly froze. Both of them stared at me, their gazes terrifying, making me swallow hard. “Regardless, what happened has happened. Your engagement to me was also arranged by our elders, and it must continue.” Julian looked at Adrian. “As for him, just consider him a toy. You played with him, now keep your distance from now on.” Wait, is my fiancé really this generous? Adrian protested indignantly, “What do you mean, ‘played with’? Am I some cheap thing?” A vein throbbed on Julian’s temple. “If you hadn’t provoked her first, would she have made a mistake?” Adrian pouted. “Grandpa said we should compete fairly.” “He didn’t say compete in bed!” Julian almost couldn’t maintain his persona. After his emotions settled slightly, he looked at me. “From today on, we’ll live in your house. You’ll sleep in the master bedroom with me. He’ll stay in the guest room. Your curfew is 8 PM.” “Why?” Adrian and I asked in unison. He complained indignantly, “The master bedroom bed is so big, it can clearly fit all three of us!” “Because Celeste Song is my future wife.” 5 Julian was a man of his word, moving into my house with force. In the walk-in closet, as he organized the original owner’s sexy clothes, he picked up a lace bra strap, his face expressionless, and warned me. “These, you’re only allowed to wear for me from now on.” “I disagree!” Adrian, who had broken in at some point, his eyes gleaming, said, “Sister-in-law, I want to see too~” “Get out.” Julian slammed the closet door shut. “Your sister-in-law and I have things to discuss.” Adrian waved his hand reluctantly. “Alright, sister-in-law, see you later.” The room fell silent, the air growing thin. He broke the silence first. “I need to keep Adrian settled, let him stay for a while, but for the sake of both our families’ reputations, you need to stay away from him.” Seeing my silence, he nudged me. “Speak up!” “Ow.” Julian was clearly displeased. He pinched my chin, forcing me to look up. “So unwilling? Have you really fallen for him?” I angrily slapped his hand away. “Why would I like him!” The chill in Julian’s eyes receded slightly. “You’d better not.” “I don’t like you either.” He said calmly, “Celeste Song, I will be your husband in the future. Our relationship is set.” “You need to try to accept me, otherwise you’ll only make yourself miserable.” Then he asked very seriously, “What kind of man do you like? I can try to change for you.” “I like them ‘hot’.” The words almost slipped out. Julian stiffened. “‘Hot’? ‘Hot’ what?” The CEO’s brain seemed to have suddenly malfunctioned. I sized him up, imagining him naked, seducing me like a male vixen. I felt a strange thrill. Julian seemed to sense my mischievous gaze and looked away. “I’ve noted that. Come downstairs for dinner once you’re ready.” He abruptly pulled open the door and left, but stopped after two steps. “I’ll study up first. You can test me tonight.” Watching him leave, I stood there, stunned, and patted my flushed cheeks. “Discussing ‘hot’ with a CEO in all seriousness… who could handle that?” 6 That evening, the atmosphere at the dining table was bizarre. Julian dined elegantly, yet his eyes kept darting towards me. Each time I looked back, his face would flush a little more. My mind was full of his promises to me, and I ate somewhat distractedly. Adrian, who arrived a moment later, noticed my absentmindedness and curiously leaned in. “Why is your face so red? Did you secretly ‘eat’ my brother behind my back?” Julian’s face darkened. “Adrian, sit farther away. Mind your manners.” Unexpectedly, he ignored the warning and hugged me, rubbing his face against my shoulder. “No, I want to stay by sister-in-law’s side.” Julian’s gaze turned dangerous. “I won’t say it a second time.” Only then did he reluctantly sit up straight. “Sister-in-law doesn’t even dislike me, why are you so angry?” He was too close, his alluring scent directly assailing my nostrils. “What perfume are you wearing?” Adrian’s eyes lit up. “Do you like it?” “It’s alright,” I said, feeling a little weak in the knees from the scent, “but…” “Snap!” Julian abruptly put down his chopsticks, glaring at Adrian with a cold expression. “Get out!” Adrian stood up irritably. “Alright, fine, I’m leaving. You’re just relying on having a title, tch!” He took two steps back and blew me a kiss. “Sister-in-law, I’ll sneak into your room tonight.” 7 These two once-close brothers suddenly at odds, was it truly as the System said, their affection for me had reached 100%? It was late, and I tossed and turned, unable to sleep, my mind consumed by this. Just then, the door was gently pushed open, and I instantly tensed up. Who was it? Julian or Adrian? Footsteps gradually approached, and a pleasant scent filled the air. Such a flamboyant scent, it had to be Adrian. Feeling the mattress sink, I secretly peeked out from under the covers, wanting to see what he was up to. By the faint moonlight filtering through the window, I slowly widened my eyes. It wasn’t Adrian, it was Julian! He was wearing only an extremely thin bathrobe. It was so thin, it was practically transparent. The bathrobe accentuated his waistline, as well as his strong, broad chest and abs. You could even faintly see his long legs and… My face immediately burned, and my breathing became erratic. Julian sensed my gaze and shyly turned his head away. “I’m learning slowly. This is how it is for tonight, are you satisfied?” “Satisfied…” “Hmm, I’m a quick learner, and I’ve researched a lot.” His voice trembled slightly, and my heart fluttered along with it. “How’s the nightwear? If you don’t like it, you must tell me so I can correct it promptly.” He asked very seriously, “If you have a particularly preferred style, I can wear it for you.” Julian’s throat worked hard, and he carefully leaned in, kissing the back of my neck. “Just wait for me a little longer. I should soon be able to… get ‘hot’ for you effortlessly.” I was struck by lightning! That shameful phrase echoed repeatedly in my mind. How could he say he’d get “hot” with such an innocent expression? I burrowed deeper into the covers, practically a screaming chicken internally. This guy was a pro; I was no match for him at all! I absolutely fell for this act, and hard! After a while, he softly asked, “I’m being so good. Does my fiancée want to reward me?” “Huh? Reward what?” He flipped over me, pinning my hands above my head. “Tonight, just me, okay?” Hiss-gasp! “…Okay.”

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1 For the third time this week, the new intern wrote me up for slacking off. She stood by my desk with her chin tilted up in that sickeningly arrogant way of hers. “Mr. Lively made it crystal clear. No one is allowed to eat snacks, drink beverages, or play on their phones at their desks.” “You broke all three rules. That’s a three-thousand-dollar fine. We’re docking a full month’s pay.” Looking at her perfectly manicured, youthful face, I couldn’t help but smile. The girl had only been working here for fifteen days. Riding on the coattails of Oliver Lively’s favoritism, she strutted around the office like she owned the place, treating everyone else like dirt on her shoe. But there was one tiny detail she didn’t know. I was the majority shareholder of this firm. Where did she get the audacity to fine the very boss who signed her paychecks? My name is Victoria. I am thirty-eight years old. Ten years ago, at twenty-eight, I founded an interior design firm from the ground up. Over a decade of blood, sweat, and sleepless nights, I grew it into a highly reputable brand in the city. Once the company stabilized, I stepped back from the front lines. I handed the day-to-day management over to the CEO I had personally mentored and promoted: Oliver Lively. Oliver was five years younger than me. He was sharp, ambitious, and my absolute top choice for a successor. I delegated my power completely. Unless there was a massive, company-altering project, I stayed entirely out of the daily operations. I just kept a single, modest desk for myself tucked away in the farthest corner of the design department. I set my own hours. I came and went as I pleased. To the rest of the staff, I was just a veteran employee with no real authority. They politely called me “Victoria” and left me alone. I loved the peace and quiet. I also never interfered with HR decisions or new hires. That was, until Blair showed up half a month ago. Oliver personally escorted her onto the design floor. “Everyone, this is Blair. She’s a fresh Ivy League graduate and the newest addition to our design team. Please show her the ropes,” Oliver announced, his tone practically dripping with admiration. Blair smiled and waved, her eyes sweeping across the open-plan office. When her gaze finally landed on me, it was loaded with scrutiny and thinly veiled contempt. From her very first day, she refused to act like an intern. She complained that the standard-issue company laptop was too slow, demanding the admin team order her the latest, fully loaded iMac. She complained that the coffee in the breakroom was cheap instant trash. By her second day, she had an assistant running out to buy artisanal pour-over coffee, charging it directly to the corporate account. When people started whispering about her diva behavior, she just offered a condescending smirk. “Mr. Lively authorized it. He said brilliant creative minds require a premium environment, and the company shouldn’t pinch pennies on the little things.” The name “Mr. Lively” was her royal decree. To give credit where it’s due, she was undeniably clever. She quickly gathered a clique of young, equally arrogant junior designers who thought they were God’s gift to architecture. To the older, seasoned staff, she showed nothing but disrespect. Right in front of the entire floor, she announced that my design philosophy was “ancient history and completely out of touch.” During a pitch review with the Design Director, she didn’t hesitate to interrupt, loudly criticizing a color palette as “tacky and entirely unfit for modern aesthetics.” At first, I brushed it off. I figured she was just young, overly ambitious, and desperate to prove herself. I even saved her skin once. We had an urgent, high-stakes project, and Blair volunteered to take the lead, bragging that she could handle it in her sleep. She severely overestimated her abilities. With barely an hour left before the client deadline, her entire 3D rendering file corrupted. The poor girl was on the verge of a full-blown panic attack, tears welling in her eyes. I stepped in, rebuilt the core models from my own archives, and sent the final draft to the client with minutes to spare. She looked at me that day with a mix of genuine shock and gratitude. I assumed that after bailing her out, her attitude toward me would finally change. I was dead wrong. The very next afternoon, I overheard her chatting in the breakroom. “That Victoria woman just has a few more years of repetitive experience. It’s really no big deal. If I had the luxury of sitting around doing nothing but studying software all day like her, I’d be ten times faster.” One of her little followers chimed in. “Seriously. I heard she’s just coasting until retirement. She abuses her seniority to slack off all day.” Blair let out a light, arrogant laugh. “Don’t worry, the company isn’t going to sponsor a charity case forever. Mr. Lively told me the future belongs to the young blood. Dinosaurs who can’t keep up with the new pace will be phased out sooner rather than later.” I stood completely still behind the breakroom door, a ceramic mug in my hand. I didn’t walk in. “I’m telling you, people like her are just dead weight taking up oxygen,” Blair continued. “Just wait and see. I’m going to clean up this toxic, lazy culture myself.” I completely lost my appetite that day. I suddenly realized that the company I had built with my bare hands had quietly bred a culture I absolutely despised. 2 Blair’s grand “clean-up” operation started almost immediately. First, the HR Admin approached me with an incredibly awkward expression. “Victoria, Mr. Lively is rolling out a strict new attendance policy. Everyone has to clock in and out using the app. So, regarding your schedule…” I had been at this company for ten years and had never once clocked in. It was one of my unspoken privileges as the founder. I looked at the stressed admin manager and nodded gently. “Alright. I understand.” The next day, HR called me into a private meeting. “Victoria, a colleague reported that you spend company hours browsing websites unrelated to your current projects. It sets a bad precedent for the floor.” I glanced at the screenshot the HR rep slid across the desk. It was a photo of my monitor showing a high-end European architectural forum. Browsing global design trends was a daily habit I had maintained for a decade to keep my inspiration fresh. “Who reported this?” I asked flatly. The HR rep stammered, avoiding my eyes. “We have a strict obligation to protect the anonymity of whistleblowers.” “Fine. I’ll keep that in mind.” I didn’t take it to heart. I assumed it was just petty, childish office politics. But I vastly underestimated just how much Oliver was willing to indulge her. A week later, a brand new “Employee Code of Conduct” was blasted to every inbox in the company. It was a massive, hundred-page document detailing exactly how folders should be arranged on desks, what kind of mugs were acceptable, and explicitly banning employees from resting their heads on their desks during lunch breaks. At the very bottom of the document was Oliver Lively’s digital signature. The author of this ridiculous manifesto? Blair. Oliver had shattered corporate protocol, promoting her straight from intern to Executive Assistant to the CEO. Her workspace was moved from the crowded design floor into a sleek, private glass cubicle right outside Oliver’s office. From that day on, she patrolled the office like a prison warden, clutching a leather-bound notebook, documenting any “infractions” she spotted. Brenda, a senior designer, took a brief phone call because her toddler had a fever. Blair wrote her up. Arthur, our Design Director, ate a sandwich at his keyboard because he was rushing a deadline. Blair issued a company-wide reprimand. The entire office was suffocating under a thick blanket of resentment and fear. And I was her favorite target. The first write-up was for a tiny potted succulent sitting next to my monitor. “Victoria, the handbook explicitly states that personal items are forbidden in the workspace. It damages the sleek, professional image of the firm.” The second write-up was for using my personal Macbook to answer private emails. “Victoria, company property is for company use only. If you need to handle personal business, please do so off the clock.” The third write-up was today. My crimes were a glass of water, a small plate of saltine crackers, and the fact that I was holding my phone, reading a client’s feedback on a recently completed project. She stood over me, looking down like a judge preparing to deliver a death sentence. “A three-thousand-dollar fine. Deducted straight from your paycheck this month. Do you have a problem with that?” I looked up at her calmly. Slowly, I rotated my phone screen so she could see it. It was a glowing letter of gratitude from a major client, explicitly praising the entire project team, including her, the intern. “I am working,” I said. She glanced at the screen and scoffed. “Save the excuses. Everyone in this building knows you coast through the day and slack off on company time. Now you’re openly insubordinate to your superiors. How exactly do you expect management to deal with you?” I let out a dry, incredulous laugh. The sheer absurdity of it was almost entertaining. I took my time standing up from my chair. The air in the design department seemed to freeze solid. Every single person stopped typing, holding their breath, their ears straining to catch every word of our confrontation. “Insubordinate to my superiors?” I repeated the phrase slowly, letting it hang in the air. My gaze drifted past her, sweeping across the entire crowded floor. “I have a quick question for everyone sitting here today. Which one of you is my superior?” 3 Dead silence. A few of the veteran designers, the ones I had personally interviewed and hired years ago, kept their eyes glued to their monitors, pretending to be invisible statues. Blair’s face flushed an ugly shade of red. She clearly hadn’t expected the entire floor to leave her hanging. Not a single person stepped up to back her. She gritted her teeth and jutted her chin out defensively. “My official title is Executive Assistant to the CEO. I am tasked with monitoring all personnel. That absolutely makes me your superior!” “If you have a problem with my authority, take it up with Mr. Lively!” “Sure,” I nodded agreeably, picking up my phone. “I’ll ask him to come down here right now.” A collective, quiet gasp rippled through the cubicles. Everyone thought I had lost my mind. A “lazy” senior employee actively provoking the CEO’s wrath was career suicide. Blair’s lips curled into a victorious, predatory smirk. I ignored her completely. I found Oliver’s name in my contacts and pressed call. He picked up on the second ring. “Hello?” Oliver’s voice was deep, steady, and thoroughly professional. “Oliver. Come down to the design floor. Now.” My tone was perfectly flat. I didn’t use his formal title. I didn’t offer any explanations. I spoke to him the exact same way a boss speaks to a subordinate. There was a fraction of a second of dead air on the line before he replied, “Understood. I’ll be right there.” I ended the call and tossed my phone casually onto my desk. Blair crossed her arms over her chest and sneered. “Putting on a brave face. Let’s see how fast that attitude disappears when Mr. Lively gets here.” I didn’t say a word. I just pulled my chair back out, sat down comfortably, and watched her with quiet amusement. Less than three minutes later, Oliver’s tall, imposing figure strode through the glass doors of the design department. After three years of holding the reins, the man I had mentored had cultivated a genuinely intimidating corporate aura. The moment he walked in, the oxygen in the room seemed to vanish. Blair immediately rushed over to his side, her voice dripping with manufactured grievance and venom. “Mr. Lively, thank god you’re here!” “Victoria is blatantly violating company policy. She’s eating, drinking, and playing on her phone at her desk. I issued a standard three-thousand-dollar fine according to your new regulations, and not only did she refuse to accept it, she openly disrespected me and demanded you come down here!” “She has absolutely zero respect for you or the rules you established for this firm!” As she ranted, she shot me a smug, vindictive glare out of the corner of her eye. Oliver’s sharp gaze locked onto me. His brow furrowed just a fraction of an inch. His eyes were a storm of complicated emotions. There was impatience, calculation, and a flicker of something much darker that I couldn’t quite read. Over the last three years, he had truly transformed into a ruthless businessman. Cold, decisive, and entirely detached. “Victoria, what exactly is going on here?” he demanded, his voice entirely devoid of warmth. I met his icy stare without flinching. “Exactly what your assistant just said. I drank half a glass of water, ate a single saltine cracker, and looked at my phone for three minutes.” I paused, picking up the small saucer of crackers and sliding it across my desk toward him. “I’m sure the CEO is unaware, but I suffer from chronic hypoglycemia. I specifically asked the admin team to keep these stocked in the pantry for me.” “As for the phone,” I picked up the device and tapped the screen to keep it awake. It was still displaying the client group chat. “Mr. Harrison from Vanguard just sent a lengthy appreciation text to the group, promising to refer a massive new client to our firm. I thought it was a phenomenal win, and I wanted to make sure the project team saw it immediately to boost morale.” “I wasn’t aware that keeping tabs on our biggest client constituted ‘playing on my phone’.” Oliver’s face darkened significantly. Seeing his hesitation, Blair immediately threw more fuel on the fire. “Mr. Lively, do not listen to her pathetic excuses! A rule is a rule. We cannot grant special privileges just because she’s been here a long time!” “She is weaponizing her seniority to challenge your absolute authority! If you do not punish her severely today, how will anyone ever respect your policies in the future?” 4 Every single word Blair said was precision-engineered to hit a power-hungry executive’s deepest insecurities. I knew exactly what Oliver had been trying to do since he took over three years ago. He was desperate to prove himself, desperate to scrub away my legacy and establish his own absolute, unquestionable dominance over the firm. Blair was nothing more than a convenient weapon he was using to purge the old guard and eradicate anyone loyal to me. And as the ultimate symbol of the old regime, I was naturally the first head that needed to roll. Right on cue, the temperature in Oliver’s eyes dropped below freezing. He looked down at me, pronouncing his verdict word by agonizing word. “Rules are rules. Once a policy is set, everyone must comply. Victoria, as a senior member of this firm, you should be setting the standard, not breaking it. Blair was simply doing her job. She did nothing wrong.” “And your point is?” I asked quietly. “My point is the three-thousand-dollar fine stands. Furthermore, for blatant insubordination and refusing to comply with management, your quarterly bonus is completely revoked. I expect a one-thousand-word written apology on my desk by tomorrow morning.” Oliver delivered the sentence with absolute finality, leaving zero room for negotiation. The office was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Everyone was entirely paralyzed by the sheer brutality of his decision. This wasn’t corporate discipline. This was a public humiliation. A sickeningly triumphant grin spread across Blair’s face. She looked at me like I was a peasant who had just been thrown into the mud. I looked at Oliver. I looked at the man I had trusted with my life’s work, the man I had practically treated like a younger brother. Any lingering trace of affection I had for him evaporated completely in the freezing air of his betrayal. I smiled. A slow, chilling smile. “Oliver. And if I refuse to write it?” His eyes narrowed dangerously. “Then you will submit your immediate resignation. Visionary Interiors does not employ staff who refuse to fall in line.” “Fire me?” I let out a dry, incredulous laugh, slowly rising to my feet to look him dead in the eye. “Oliver, are you absolutely certain you have the authority to do that?” “I am the CEO of this company! Do I have the authority to fire a regular employee?!” he snapped, his voice rising in anger. “A regular employee?” I shook my head, my smile widening into something lethal. “It seems that playing the role of CEO for three years has made you completely forget who actually owns this company.” My voice wasn’t loud, but in the dead silence of the office, it hit like a shockwave. Oliver’s pupils contracted violently. The triumphant smirk on Blair’s face froze solid. I didn’t give them a single second to recover. My eyes swept over their pale, panic-stricken faces, and I delivered the final blow with crystal-clear precision. “I am officially notifying you, in my capacity as the Founder and Chairman of the Board—” “Oliver, you and your little assistant are both fired.” 5 As the words left my mouth, a suffocating, graveyard silence descended upon the design department. The air was so tense it felt solid. You could hear the faint hum of the air conditioning kicking in. Every single pair of eyes in the room was locked onto the three of us like spotlights. Shock. Horror. Absolute disbelief. The arrogant smirk on Blair’s face had completely collapsed, her features twisting into an ugly, glitching mask of confusion. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. She just stared at me with wide, manic eyes, looking at me like I belonged in an asylum. Oliver’s reaction, however, was much faster. After a microsecond of genuine terror, his face darkened into a thunderous scowl. His eyes were sharp as daggers, practically boring a hole into my skull. “Victoria.” He ground my name out through clenched teeth, his tone dripping with the fury of a man whose ego had just been publicly shattered. “Do you have any idea what the hell is coming out of your mouth? Who do you think you are?” “Who do I think I am?” I repeated calmly, stepping closer to him. “I am the Founder of Visionary Interiors. I am the Chairman of the Board. And I am the absolute majority shareholder, possessing seventy percent of this company’s equity.” “Does that answer your question?” With every title I listed, the color drained further from Oliver’s face. When I said “seventy percent,” his pupils shrank to pinpricks, and a flash of genuine, visceral panic finally bled through his stoic facade. But he forced himself to stabilize. He was desperately trying to hold the line. “Heh.” He let out a harsh, mocking laugh, dripping with fabricated disdain. “Victoria, you’ve been sitting in the corner doing nothing for so long that your brain has finally rotted. Chairman? You handed the CEO position to me three years ago. You are no longer in control of this company’s operations.” “As for your so-called shares… who knows if that’s even true anymore? And even if you do hold equity, terminating a CEO requires a formal vote from the Board of Directors! Standing here having a psychotic break in front of the staff just makes you look pathetic.” His desperate counterattack fed Blair a massive dose of liquid courage. She immediately chimed in, her voice shrill and grating. “Exactly! Mr. Lively is the CEO! Who the hell are you?! You’re just a washed-up, obsolete employee on a power trip! You’re just throwing a tantrum because you got caught breaking the rules!” She turned to the surrounding staff, aggressively trying to rally the crowd. “Everyone sees this, right?! This is what toxic entitlement looks like! She thinks just because she’s old, she can publicly disrespect the CEO and destroy the corporate structure! People like her need to be thrown out immediately!” Not a single person agreed with her. The young designers who used to follow her around like lapdogs suddenly found their shoes incredibly fascinating, shrinking down into their office chairs to hide behind their monitors. The veteran employees just stared at her with expressions of profound pity, like they were watching a toddler play with a loaded gun. Oliver clearly sensed the dangerous shift in the room’s atmosphere. His face hardened. He pulled himself up to his full height, projecting maximum CEO authority, and shouted toward the glass doors. “Security! Get security up here right now! Remove this disruptive individual from the premises immediately!” He was crossing the Rubicon. He was burning the bridge completely. He was absolutely certain that in the eyes of the staff, I was just a figurehead with no actual fangs. He believed that if he threw me out into the street like garbage today, his absolute reign over the company would be cemented forever. Two uniformed security guards jogged onto the floor, looking incredibly stressed. “Mr. Lively, what seems to be the problem?” Oliver pointed a rigid finger at me, his voice a block of solid ice. “Escort her out of the building. Effective immediately, she is no longer an employee of Visionary Interiors.” Blair crossed her arms, looking down her nose at me, practically vibrating with glee. “Did you hear the man? Look at you now, getting thrown out on the street! You brought this entirely on yourself!” The two guards exchanged a miserable look, but they slowly stepped toward me. “Ma’am, please don’t make this difficult…” The entire office stopped breathing. I looked at Oliver’s twisted, power-hungry face. The very last thread of mercy I had for him snapped. I slowly reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone. Without breaking eye contact, I dialed three simple digits and put it on speaker. “Hello, 911? I need to report a major corporate crime.” The smug expressions on Oliver and Blair’s faces instantly froze over.

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I finally got my table next to hers, the deep-hearted secondary female lead. As I was moving the desk, the main male character suddenly rushed up and hugged her. “It’s so good to see you again. This time, I’ll protect you!” Bullet comments flashed wildly across the screen: [Last life, the male lead chose the wrong girl. Luckily, he’s reborn and will fiercely pursue his wife!] [LOL, the male lead doesn’t even need to chase. A smile will make the deep-hearted secondary female lead willingly surrender.] [In contrast, Ethan is a joke. He took a hit for her just to sit at the same table.] Jessica’s face was grim, but she let Christopher embrace her tightly. “Tell me, what do you want me to do for you this time?” “Write love letters for her? Or give up my competition spot for her?” The boy shook his head hard, crying in a way that tugged at your heartstrings. “I just want to be with you!” Jessica froze. After a long moment, she turned to me and said, “Let’s not move the table for now.” I suddenly lost interest and summoned the System. “See? It was never me who could save her. So, can you let me go home now?” 1 I was moving my desk to the back row when Christopher was confessing. He stopped Fiona, who had just returned to the classroom, holding a large bouquet of roses. Bright and flamboyant, just like him. Before he could speak, Fiona said coolly, “Whatever you do, it’s useless. I don’t like you.” Christopher froze, his face pale. A few seconds later, he suddenly looked around as if startled. When he saw the date on the electronic clock on the wall, his eyes widened. The next second, he pushed through the crowd and rushed over. Carrying the scent of roses, he enveloped Jessica in a hug, filled with the joy of rediscovery, tears streaming down his face. “It’s good to see you again!” “This time, I won’t let you… I’ll protect you!” Jessica stared at Christopher in astonishment, her hands hovering in mid-air, unsure where to put them. Everyone was stunned. Bullet comments flashed wildly before my eyes: [Last life, Fiona married Christopher but then fell for someone else, breaking Christopher’s heart and leaving him to die of sorrow.] [It’s a shame Christopher never looked back at the shy, deeply devoted secondary female lead, Jessica. She rushed into a fire to save him without a second thought, but got her face disfigured. After being discharged, she avoided Christopher but secretly protected him.] [The most heartbreaking part was the car accident! Christopher, after arguing with Fiona, ran a red light in a fit of emotion. It was Jessica who rushed from across the street to push him away, getting hit by a truck herself. Christopher cried hysterically, begging her not to die.] [Thinking about that just breaks my heart! Jessica never once said she loved him, but she gave her all for Christopher, boo hoo hoo.] [Thank goodness Christopher is reborn. This life, he’s going to fiercely pursue her and suffer a karmic retribution! As for Fiona, get lost!] [But Fiona’s reaction to Christopher’s confession shouldn’t be like this. Could she also be reborn?] The students watching started to jeer. “Christopher, did you get the wrong person? Weren’t you supposed to confess to Fiona?” “Exactly! You just got rejected by Fiona and now you’re switching targets?” “Doesn’t Ethan like Jessica? Tch, a love square?” Sarcastic gazes rotated among us. Jessica’s face was grim. I knew she was heartbroken that Christopher was rejected and mocked, and jealous that Fiona could possess his passionate affection. Christopher and Fiona were a perfect match, socially speaking. As for Jessica, she was just the child of Christopher’s housekeeper and driver. Plus, with her parents deceased, the Sterling family gave her a monthly allowance out of pity. 2 Christopher had always treated Jessica with condescending commands. He’d command her to give her only umbrella to Fiona during a rainstorm, forcing her to walk home drenched. He’d command her to give her late-night study notes to Fiona, and if Fiona didn’t want them, he’d tear them up in a huff. He’d command her to skip a test, giving Fiona the top spot in their grade. So Jessica didn’t take Christopher’s words seriously. She just pursed her lips and asked with a hint of self-mockery: “What do you want me to do for you this time?” “Write love letters for her? Or give up my competition spot for her?” Christopher’s voice was tearful but exceptionally clear, sincere and firm: “I want you—to be with me!” “It’s okay if you don’t believe me now; we have plenty of time! I’ll make you believe!” With that, Christopher turned and glared at me. “Get lost!” He pushed me aside, grabbed the desk I had just moved, and shoved it hard to the side. The wooden desk scraped against the floor with a grating sound, ending up next to the trash can. Then he ran back to get his own desk and merged it with Jessica’s. “From today on, your only deskmate can be me!” He lifted his chin proudly, his eyes shining as he looked at her. Jessica remained frozen throughout. She turned her head helplessly, avoiding his scorching gaze, but her eyes met mine. After a long moment, Jessica spoke: “Let’s… not move the table for now.” I summoned the System. “See? It was never me who could save her. So, can you let me go home now?” I was living perfectly fine in my original world when I was suddenly bound to the System. It said I was the only one who could save the deep-hearted secondary female lead. Only by helping her avoid disfigurement and death could I return home. Jessica was a cold-hearted person, always sitting alone at the back of the classroom, a loner. The only warmth she showed was to the male lead, Christopher. She loathed my persistent approaches, always telling me to get lost in a cold voice. Until last week, she was cornered, and an iron rod was aimed straight for the back of her head. Without thinking, I took the hit for her. That was the first time I saw Jessica’s expression change. She knelt on the ground, trembling, her voice fragmented. “Who told you to meddle?!” The rod hit my back. Fortunately, with the System, the injury wasn’t too severe. While Jessica was taking care of me in the hospital, I seized the opportunity to ask to be her deskmate. She looked very reluctant, frowning but agreeing. Yet, the deskmate status I earned with my blood, Christopher achieved with just a few tears. I continued to negotiate with the System. “Now that Christopher is reborn, he won’t let Jessica get hurt. I’m completely unnecessary here.” The System’s cold, mechanical voice replied: [We apologize for this unexpected situation. You indeed no longer need to remain here. According to regulations, you may choose a death node to return to your original world.] I’ve been here for nearly three years, and I have teachers and classmates who are very kind to me. The college entrance exam is less than a week away. If I were to suddenly die, it might affect them. I didn’t want that to happen. “After the exam.” [Understood.] 3 Having been violently pushed by Christopher and slammed into the wall, a dull ache spread from the wound on my back. I couldn’t help but wince. Suddenly, a painkiller was offered to me. Fiona pointed to my back. “Your wound has opened up. Do you need to go to the infirmary now?” Even an irrelevant person noticed something was wrong, but Jessica seemed completely unaware. In just a few minutes. Jessica’s desk was already adorned with books and a thermos that weren’t hers. A cartoon couple’s bracelet adorned her pale wrist, a stark contrast to her cold demeanor. Christopher’s school jacket was draped over her shoulders. In Christopher’s hand was the lunch I had prepared for Jessica. Christopher took a bite, then gagged and spit it out, tossing the lunchbox away. “My dog wouldn’t even eat this! No wonder you’re so thin. From now on, you’ll eat with me!” Jessica stared blankly at the lunchbox in the trash can. She didn’t say a word. I left the classroom and went to the school infirmary to get my back re-bandaged. When I returned, school was already out, and only Fiona remained in the classroom. My desk had been moved next to hers. Fiona calmly explained, “My old deskmate was Christopher. He moved, so I moved your desk here.” Without having to pursue Jessica, it didn’t matter where I sat. Fiona said, “It’s getting dark. How about I walk you home?” I didn’t want to get entangled with the original female lead and was about to refuse when. Jessica’s cold voice echoed from the doorway. “No need. I’ll walk him home.” 4 Jessica lived in a distant shantytown. For the sake of the mission, I became her neighbor, forcibly trailing behind her to and from school, talking to her incessantly along the way. When she got too annoyed, she’d put on her earphones right in front of me. But I was relentless. I talked about everything: how the school’s white cat had six kittens, how the sweet and sour pork at the cafeteria was too salty, my dream university, wanting a teddy bear for my birthday, even how many times I went to the restroom that day. Each time, Jessica would turn to glare at me, her usually cold face flushed. “Why, why are you telling me all this?” I asked slowly, “Didn’t you put on your earphones? Can you still hear me talk?” Jessica walked on, head down, trying to widen the distance. I caught up and asked loudly, “Is it really annoying?” Without waiting for her answer, I sighed and murmured to myself: “Do you know? People only want to talk when they feel happy.” “I like you, I really like you, you know. I feel happy when I’m around you, that’s why I want to talk.” “I hope one day you can talk a lot to me too.” My shining eyes burned her, and she turned her head away, but she took off her earphones. Still, she wouldn’t wait for me, remaining silent. Back then, I thought it was a distant dream for her to actively wait for me to walk home and chatter incessantly. I never expected it to come true today. The cicadas buzzed in the summer air. But they couldn’t drown out Jessica’s incessant chatter: “I didn’t expect Christopher to be my deskmate. It’s probably just a whim of his; he’ll move back in a few days, and then I’ll be your deskmate.” “He’s not as arrogant as he seems. His hands were red from moving the desk, but he still insisted he was fine.” “He said a lot of strange things today, that he dreamed I would die saving him later. I find it funny; does he really think I’m that foolish?” … It was rare. This was the first time Jessica had spoken so much to me, and it was all because of another boy. She chattered on for a long time, every word, every sentence, about Christopher. Until we were almost at the alley entrance, she suddenly stopped and asked me, “Why aren’t you talking today?” I wanted to ask her: What can I say? What should I say? But what came out was: Jessica paused, caught off guard. Before she could speak, the sound of a car door opening echoed from a distance. Christopher bounced out of the car and put an arm around Jessica’s shoulder. “From now on, I’ll walk her home. No need to trouble you, outsider!” Before he could finish, Jessica suddenly interrupted, “He’s not an outsider.” Everyone froze. Jessica seemed surprised by her own words. She pursed her lips as if regretting them, then told me, “You should go home first.” The hot summer wind wrapped around my face, making me feel stifled. Behind me, a girl’s anxious voice called out: “It’s a shantytown here. It’s not safe at night. You should go home.” She carefully escorted Christopher back to his car, leaving me alone in the dark. Christopher was right, after all. The deep-hearted secondary female lead firmly loved the male lead, yet the System insisted I save her. In this relationship, in this world, I was always an outsider. 5 In the morning, I received a message from Jessica: [I have something to do today and took the day off. You don’t have to wait for me for school.] When I got to the classroom, I found both Jessica and Christopher’s seats empty. Fiona noticed my gaze and voluntarily explained, “Today is Christopher’s birthday. He said Jessica went with him to buy birthday presents.” So, what Jessica called ‘having something to do’ meant buying presents. She was a very studious person. She once caught a fever of 102 degrees from the rain, but still refused to take the day off, enduring through her classes. When I was hospitalized with injuries, she didn’t take time off either, only coming to accompany me after school. Now, this person who valued her studies above all else, would, less than a week before her final exams. Take a day off for something as trivial as a present. But then again, Christopher’s birthday, in Jessica’s eyes, how could it be a small matter? Jessica didn’t return to school all day. I walked home alone. As soon as I entered the door, I heard a knock. The moment I opened it, a half-human-sized teddy bear filled my vision. Its round belly blocked the person behind it. The next second, the teddy bear was gently moved aside. Jessica’s face peeked out from behind, her nose tip red from the cold. “Happy birthday.” I froze. It was only then that I remembered today was also my birthday. But how did Jessica know? Seeing my bewildered look, Jessica curved her eyes into a smile. “Did you forget? You told me your birthday was today.” “You also said you always wanted a teddy bear because when you were little, you were afraid of the dark and couldn’t sleep all night. You wanted a big teddy bear to keep you company, but the orphanage didn’t have spare money.” I had indeed told her that on the way home from school. But at the time, she was wearing earphones, and I thought she couldn’t hear me, let alone remember. Jessica extended her right hand. Her fingertips were swollen and red, with shallow scratches. “I worked washing dishes at a restaurant on the weekend to save up. At first, I was clumsy and broke several bowls, so some money was deducted. Otherwise, I could have bought you a bigger one…” I was a bit surprised. She actually used her study time to work a dirty and tiring kitchen job. Jessica, both nervous and expectant, pushed the soft teddy bear into my hands. [Folks, I’m dying of laughter. Is the male supporting character moved?] [If he knew that this bear was actually meant for Christopher, but the young master, being accustomed to luxury, found it distasteful, so Jessica gave it to him instead, what would his reaction be?] I took a step back, and the teddy bear fell to the ground, getting covered in dust. “I don’t want it.” Jessica’s hand froze in mid-air, her face turning pale. She opened her mouth but ultimately said nothing, just a soft “Hmm.” She paused, then asked, “Did anything happen at school today? Tell me about it…” I cut her off. “No.” Then I closed the door, leaving her and the bear outside. 6 The next day was Saturday, and I was preparing to move all my school books home. Just as I stepped out into the alley, Christopher blocked my path. He looked me up and down. “Why are you always clinging to Jessica? I’ve never seen you before.” I had no intention of getting entangled with him and turned to walk around. Christopher snapped his fingers. Several people emerged from the alley entrance, holding sticks, blocking the way completely. Christopher walked up to me, looking down. “Did Jessica give you a bear?” “She wanted to give it to me, but I found it a bit distasteful, so she gave it to you instead.” I looked at him calmly. “So?” Christopher’s lips curled into a disdainful smile. “So you should give the bear back to me. It’s the first gift she bought with her own money from working, and it rightfully belongs to me! An orphan like you, no one wants, you don’t deserve her affection!” The word “orphan” felt like a bucket of ice water, drenching me. I had only told Jessica about my background. About how dark the nights were at the orphanage, how much I envied other children who received toys from their parents. I had explicitly told her not to tell anyone. Christopher’s smile deepened. “What? Did I hit a nerve? Well, someone like you has probably never received a gift from anyone, right?” I clenched my fists, took a deep breath. “Move.” Christopher not only didn’t retreat but, with a triumphant air, stepped closer, almost pressing against my ear. “I’ve already messaged Jessica. Who do you think she’ll choose?” Before he finished speaking, hurried footsteps sounded, and Jessica’s figure suddenly appeared at the alley entrance. Christopher immediately cried out and lunged forward. At the same time, two boys simultaneously raised their iron rods. One whistled through the air, aimed at my back, the other pointed directly at Christopher’s cheek. Time seemed to freeze at this moment. Jessica’s pupils contracted sharply, and she lunged towards Christopher. A tearing pain shot through my back, and cold sweat instantly drenched my school uniform. Jessica looked down to check on Christopher, her voice filled with an urgency I’d never heard before. “Are you okay? Did you get hurt?” Christopher held her hand and shook his head, looking wronged, but his eyes peeked over her shoulder at me, a triumphant smile on his lips. I stared at Jessica’s back, suddenly remembering what she had said in the hospital after I took a hit for her last time: “Don’t ever rush in front of me again. I should be the one protecting you.” Turns out, that protection came with priorities. The person she wanted to protect had always been Christopher. My vision began to blur. Darkness, like a tidal wave, surged and completely enveloped me. Before losing consciousness, I saw Jessica’s shocked and flustered expression, as if she wanted to run towards me. I summoned the System: “Get me out of this world.”

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1 To save a few hundred bucks on rent, I moved into a subdivided four-bedroom apartment. The leasing agent told me the other tenants were all young corporate professionals working in the nearby financial district. He said they left early, came back late, and were incredibly quiet. He wasn’t lying about the quiet part. I had lived there for two weeks and hadn’t seen a single shadow. That was until the third night, when I was scrolling through a news article about a shady subleaser who made copies of tenants’ keys to murder them. The ventilation window above my bed suddenly swung open. A skeletal hand reached down from the darkness and wrapped a coarse nylon cord around my throat. Right before the darkness took me, I finally got a good look at his face. It wasn’t some shady landlord. It was a homeless drifter who had been living in the crawl space above my ceiling the entire time. He was one of my “invisible” roommates. I blinked. And then I was back to the very first night I moved in. A searing, electric pain shot through my neck, violently waking me up. I shot up from the mattress, gasping for air. There was no skeletal, grinning face. There was no pitch-black ventilation window. There was only the pale blue glow of my phone screen resting on the sheets. I checked the time. July 15, 2023. 8:00 PM. I touched my throat. There were no ligature marks, but the phantom burn of a coarse nylon cord scraping against my skin was still there. I took huge, greedy gulps of air, the sound of my own heartbeat hammering against my ribs echoing in the cramped room. I was alive. Or rather, I had come back to life. Half an hour ago, or exactly three days from now in my previous life, I died in this exact room. I was strangled to death by a squatter hiding in the crawl space above my head. I scanned my surroundings. It was a windowless, closet-sized room, barely sixty square feet. It held a twin bed and a cheap canvas wardrobe. The walls were painted a sickening, clinical white, clearly a fresh coat of cheap paint used to cover up the black mold creeping up the baseboards. The air was heavy with a lingering, damp mildew smell mixed with the sour stench of cheap formaldehyde. Just to save fifty bucks a week, I had stuffed myself into this literal coffin. My banking app was still open on my phone, displaying a thoroughly depressing number. Available balance: $342.50. That was my entire net worth. It wasn’t even enough to cover next month’s rent. I remembered exactly what Chuck, the chubby leasing agent, had told me. “Listen, sweetie. You won’t find anything this cheap in this neighborhood. It’s a four-bedroom unit, and the other three rooms are rented by high-end white-collar workers. They have top-tier etiquette. They leave early and come home late. Honestly, you probably won’t even run into them.” He was absolutely right. I never ran into them. In my past life, I lived here for two weeks. Even when I got up to use the bathroom at three in the morning, I never heard a single peep from the other three rooms. But I did hear other noises. Every night, right around midnight, I would hear a faint scratching sound coming from the ceiling, like fingernails scraping against plywood. Sometimes, there was a soft tapping, like marbles rolling across the floorboards above me. I thought it was just rats. I even bought sticky traps and put them on top of my canvas wardrobe. Right up until the moment I died, those glue traps sat perfectly clean and empty. Because the real “rat” wasn’t crawling on my wardrobe. He was crawling right above my head. I slowly tilted my head up, fixing my eyes on the small ventilation square cut into the upper corner of the drywall. It was a makeshift vent installed to give these windowless, illegally subdivided rooms some air circulation. It connected directly to the drop ceiling in the hallway. In my previous life, that emaciated hand, caked in black grime, had snaked its way out of that exact hole. The initial wave of paralyzing fear began to recede, quickly replaced by the sharp, razor-edge clarity of a survivor. I knew that monster was up there right now. He was pressed against the thin ceiling tiles like a giant, grotesque cockroach, listening to every single breath I took. He might even be peering through a crack, watching me right this second. I had to get out. Even if I had to sleep on a park bench or in a 24-hour McDonald’s, I could not stay in this apartment. I slid off the bed, moving with agonizing caution. I quietly shoved my ID, my debit card, and a small paring knife I bought for self-defense into my purse. I left the clothes and the bedding. My life was worth a hell of a lot more than some cheap polyester. I reached out, wrapped my hand around the doorknob, and gave it a gentle twist. Click. The lock gave way. I pulled the door open just a crack. The living room outside was pitch black. It wasn’t just dark. It was a suffocating, ink-like blackness. The windows had been completely sealed off with heavy blackout curtains. It was quiet. Dead quiet. The doors to the other three bedrooms were shut tight. Not a single sliver of light leaked from underneath them. I held my breath and tiptoed into the hallway. With every step I took, the cheap laminate flooring let out a faint groan. In the dead silence of the apartment, it sounded like a gunshot. I didn’t dare look back. A cold chill crept up my spine, screaming that something was lurking in the dark, watching my every move. I finally reached the front door handle. It was an old-school deadbolt that required two full turns to unlock. My palms were sweating profusely. I gripped the latch and twisted hard. It didn’t budge. I tried again. Still locked. My stomach plummeted. The door had been deadbolted from the outside. With these old security doors, if someone locks it from the outside with a key, you can’t open it from the inside without your own key. And Chuck had only given me the key to the lower handle lock. He never gave me the deadbolt key. Who locked it? Chuck? The sub-landlord? Regardless of who did it, I was now officially trapped inside this giant wooden coffin. Right at that moment, I heard a noise. It was incredibly faint. Very subtle. It sounded like someone slowly rubbing the pads of their fingers against wallpaper. The sound was coming from right behind me. Specifically, from the ceiling directly above the hallway leading back to my bedroom. I stiffly turned around. In the darkness, I could just barely make out the square outline of the ceiling access panel at the end of the hall. It shifted upward, just a fraction of an inch. 2 The access panel had definitely moved. Something had pushed it up from the inside, exposing a pitch-black crack. A sickening, putrid stench immediately wafted out from the gap. It smelled like sour rot, stale urine, and the heavy, greasy musk of someone who hadn’t bathed in years. It was the drifter. He was watching me. He knew I had just realized the front door was locked. He was waiting for me to panic. He was waiting for me to scream, perfectly content to toy with me like a cat cornering a mouse, soaking in my absolute terror. The hairs on my arms stood on end. I dug my fingernails so hard into my palms that they nearly broke the skin. I had to force myself to stay calm. I couldn’t scream. In a hellhole like this, screaming would only get me killed faster. I took a deep, shaky breath and pretended I was just heading to the bathroom. I turned around and walked toward the bathroom door, intentionally making my footsteps a little heavier. “Stupid door. Gotta tell the agent to fix that deadbolt tomorrow,” I muttered to myself. I kept my voice low, but loud enough for the thing in the ceiling to hear. I stepped into the bathroom and immediately locked the door behind me. There was a window in here that looked out into the building’s stairwell, but it was completely covered by heavy security bars. I could never squeeze through. My only way out was the front door. Since I couldn’t open it from the inside, I had to wait for someone to open it from the outside. Or I had to lure someone here. I pulled out my phone, my fingers trembling as I opened my texts with Chuck, the sleazy leasing agent. The guy was a total creep who always stared at my chest when he talked to me, but he worked for a legitimate real estate agency. Surely he wouldn’t boldly assist in a murder. “Hey Chuck, the front door is stuck. I have an emergency and really need to run out for a bit.” I hit send. No reply. I tried calling him through the app. It rang twice, then the call was manually declined. A second later, a text popped up on my screen. “It’s late, sweetie. Where are you rushing off to? The door is just jammed, I’ll bring a guy to fix it tomorrow. Just go to sleep. Building security is top-notch, you’re perfectly safe.” Building security? This rundown slum didn’t even have working streetlights. What security? And how did he know I was trying to leave right this second? How did he reply so fast? Unless he was standing right outside the building. A fresh, biting chill shot down my spine. I remembered a tiny detail from my past life. Right as the squatter was strangling the life out of me, I swore I heard a noise coming from the front door. It sounded exactly like a key turning in the lock. Was this whole thing a setup from the start? The agent lures in the prey, the landlord collects the cash, and the squatter handles the disposal? No, that didn’t make sense. If it was a highly coordinated murder ring, they would have been busted ages ago. It was far more likely that Chuck knew something shady was going on, but turned a blind eye to pocket the commission. Or worse, he was actively using this squatter to terrify tenants into breaking their leases early so he could pocket their security deposits. I gripped my phone, my knuckles turning white. Since he was perfectly fine throwing me to the wolves, I had zero reason to play nice. I opened my dial pad and typed 911. Before I could even hit the call button, the bathroom lights flickered wildly. Bzzzt. The bulb died. The entire bathroom was plunged into total darkness. Immediately after, that familiar, sickening scraping sound echoed from right above me. It wasn’t in the hallway anymore. It was coming from the aluminum drop ceiling right inside the bathroom. Those flimsy aluminum panels could never support the weight of a grown man. But he didn’t need them to support his weight. He just needed to push them out of the way. Clack. The sound of the first metal panel being popped out of its frame echoed in the dark. In that exact moment, I could literally feel a wave of hot, foul breath ghosting over my scalp. I didn’t dare look up. I yanked the bathroom door open and bolted into the hall. Being trapped in a tiny bathroom with that thing dropping on my head was a death sentence. If I was going to fight, I needed the open space of the living room. I rushed back into my bedroom, slammed the door shut, and threw my entire body weight against the wood. I gripped the paring knife tight, aiming the blade straight at the door. But I knew this flimsy door wouldn’t stop him. The cheap spherical lock could be popped open with a credit card. And more importantly, he didn’t need to use the door. The ventilation window. I whipped my head around. The vent was still just a dark, empty square. But I knew exactly what was happening. He was crawling through the ceiling space right now, skittering like a massive gecko, making a beeline straight for my room. I had to find a way to save myself. Aside from this door, the room had zero exits. The only real window faced an interior air shaft. Jumping out meant a four-story drop into sheer darkness. I would either die or break both my legs. Wait. This apartment was illegally subdivided. To squeeze out maximum profit, they had built all these extra walls using cheap metal studs and thin gypsum drywall. The walls had zero soundproofing, which meant they were incredibly fragile. My room shared a wall with Room B. If I could smash a hole through this drywall and escape into the next room, I might have a chance. As long as someone was in there, I could scream for help. Even if I hadn’t seen anyone in two weeks, Chuck promised me these were young professionals. Having even one person on my side was infinitely better than fighting a monster alone. I looked at my canvas wardrobe. Right behind it was the shared partition wall. I didn’t care if the noise alerted the thing in the ceiling anymore. I shoved the flimsy wardrobe out of the way. Facing the pale, sickly white wall, I raised my leg and kicked it with absolutely everything I had. Thud! A dull, heavy impact. The wall vibrated, but it held. The crawling sounds above me instantly stopped. He was right above my head. He was listening. He was trying to figure out what the hell I was doing. I gritted my teeth, took two steps back, and launched another brutal kick. Crack! This time, the cheap drywall let out a satisfying crunch, caving inward to form a noticeable dent. It was working! I went completely feral, kicking the dent over and over again like a madwoman. Pure adrenaline completely masked the pain in my heel. Only one thought looped in my brain. Break it open! Crash! My foot finally punched completely through the drywall. Ignoring the jagged, chalky edges, I reached in and began violently tearing away the pink fiberglass insulation, widening the hole as fast as I could. A cloud of drywall dust filled the air, making me cough violently. Through the jagged hole, I finally saw the inside of the room next door. Catching the faint ambient light bleeding in from my side, I saw a bed. Someone was sitting on the edge of the mattress. It was a woman with long, dark hair flowing over her shoulders. She was facing away from me, completely motionless. “Help! Please! Someone’s trying to kill me! Call the police!” I screamed at her back, my voice shaking uncontrollably. She didn’t move. She didn’t even twitch. Panic took over. I didn’t care that the hole was barely the size of a dog door. I forced my head and my right shoulder through the jagged gap. “Hey! Wake up! Call 911!” I reached out, grabbed her shoulder, and yanked her backward. Her body was incredibly light. She spun around effortlessly. The moment I saw her face, the blood in my veins turned to ice. It was a rigid, chalk-white plastic face. She had cartoonishly exaggerated red lips, and her eyes were just two solid dots of black paint. It was a retail store mannequin. She was dressed in a neat corporate blazer, her cheap synthetic wig slightly askew, staring blankly back at me. Only then did I realize that aside from the bed and this plastic nightmare, the room was completely empty. A thick layer of dust coated the floor. There were no high-end white-collar professionals. There never were. “Hehehe.” A soft, raspy chuckle echoed from the ceiling right above my room. It didn’t sound human. It sounded like a stray cat with a throat full of phlegm, sharp and entirely deranged. A skeletal hand reached down through the ventilation window on my side of the wall. It was gripping a frayed nylon rope. He dangled the noose right in front of me as I remained hopelessly wedged in the drywall, completely trapped. 3 When fear reaches its absolute peak, it morphs into total numbness. I was stuck in the wall. Half my body was in my room, the other half in the dark with the plastic mannequin. In front of me sat a lifeless plastic doll. Behind me was a serial killer. The nylon rope swayed in the air like a venomous snake preparing to strike. I violently violently jerked my body backward. I didn’t care as the jagged edges of the drywall sliced deep cuts into my waist and ribs. The sharp sting of pain brought a wave of absolute clarity. I scrambled back on all fours, retreating to the farthest corner of my room, my fingers clamped in a death grip around the handle of my paring knife. The hand slowly retreated back into the ceiling. But that didn’t mean he was giving up. He was enjoying this. Just like a cat torturing a wounded bird before finally snapping its neck. He knew I had nowhere left to run. Room B was a fake. What about the rest? Were all of Chuck’s “high-end, quiet professionals” just plastic dolls propped up in empty beds? They faked a full house just to trick naive, broke, and paranoid girls like me into signing a lease. This entire apartment wasn’t a home. It was a carefully constructed hunting ground. I needed to know for sure. Even if knowing wouldn’t save my life, I refused to die ignorant. I charged out of my bedroom. The living room was still engulfed in suffocating silence. I sprinted straight to Room C and violently twisted the knob. Locked. I took a step back and kicked it. These hollow-core wooden doors were basically made of cardboard. Three kicks later, the wood around the strike plate splintered and gave way. I crashed into the room. Using my phone’s flashlight, I saw the exact same setup. An empty room. A bed. A “man” sitting in a desk chair. He was wearing a cheap suit and wire-rimmed glasses, a permanent, lifeless plastic smile plastered across his face. Another mannequin. I moved to Room D. The door was unlocked. I pushed it open and gagged. This one was even more twisted. There were two “people” lying in the bed, a man and a woman, tucked neatly under the covers with only their plastic heads exposed. The “couple” Chuck had told me about. It was all completely fake. In this entire four-bedroom apartment, I was the only living, breathing soul. No, wait. There was one more. Up in the ceiling. I stood in the dead center of the living room, sweeping my flashlight across the doors of this deranged wax museum. In that moment, the fear completely evaporated. I just felt sick. A profound, violent wave of nausea washed over me. They played me for an absolute fool. Just to pocket a few hundred bucks in rent, they built a tomb for the living. Drip. A drop of liquid splattered onto the laminate floor right by my shoe. I looked down. It was a cloudy, yellowish drop. The sharp, foul stench of ammonia immediately hit my nose. I slowly tilted my head up. I aimed the flashlight beam straight at the center of the living room ceiling. The large maintenance hatch had been completely pushed aside. Hanging upside down from the opening was a head so emaciated it looked like a skull wrapped in thin leather. Greasy, matted hair hung down like dead weeds. His cloudy, jaundiced eyes squinted against the harsh glare of my flashlight. He stretched his lips into a wide, grotesque grin, revealing a mouth full of rotting black teeth. He was holding a dirty plastic water bottle, slowly tipping it over the edge, letting drops of urine fall to the floor. He was mocking me. He was pissing on his territory to remind me who was in charge. This was my “roommate.” Every night, when I thought I was hearing rats, I was actually listening to him. A massive, human-sized rat. “Come down here!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. My voice was so raw and feral it even startled me. “If you have the guts, come down here! Hiding up there makes you a coward!” I raised the paring knife and slashed the air aggressively toward him. His sunken face twitched. He clearly hadn’t expected the cornered prey to snap back. He pulled his head back into the darkness. A second later, I heard the frantic, heavy thudding of him crawling rapidly across the aluminum tracks. He was heading straight for my bedroom. I knew exactly what his plan was. The ventilation window. It was his favorite ambush spot. I couldn’t go back into that room. But I desperately needed to use that room. My brain kicked into absolute overdrive. Adrenaline flooded my system. If he wanted to play dirty, I was going to burn his entire world down. I bolted into the kitchen. There was no gas stove, just a cheap electric hot plate. But I vividly remembered seeing a discarded metal gallon of paint thinner sitting in the corner under the sink from when they did the cheap renovations. Highly flammable. I grabbed the metal tin by the handle and shook it. It was half full. More than enough. I sprinted back toward my bedroom, lugging the tin with me. The ventilation window had already been pushed open. That grimy, skeletal hand was just starting to reach down. When he saw me barrel into the room, his hand paused in mid-air. He was probably wondering why the prey was stupid enough to run back into the trap. I let out a cold, venomous laugh. I unscrewed the cap of the metal tin, aimed right for the bed directly beneath the vent, and violently splashed the paint thinner across the mattress and the wall. The sharp, chemical fumes instantly choked the tiny room. “You want to come down?! Then come the hell down!” I pulled a cheap gas station lighter out of my pocket. Click. A small, bright flame sparked to life. The eyes peering out from the darkness of the vent widened in sheer terror. It was the primal, animalistic fear of fire. He tried to yank himself backward into the crawl space. But I wasn’t going to let him escape. I tossed the lit lighter squarely onto the soaked bedsheets. Whoosh! A wall of fire erupted instantly, roaring like a beast as it climbed the drywall, curling viciously toward the ceiling. The ventilation window acted like a chimney, pulling the flames and the blistering heat straight up into the crawl space. “AGHHHHH!!!” A horrific, blood-curdling shriek echoed from the ceiling. It was a sound that made my skin crawl, like a pig being slaughtered alive. I took a step back into the hall, watching the tongues of fire lick the edges of the vent. But I knew this wasn’t going to kill him. A quick flash fire like this would only give him severe burns. And if this entire slum went up in flames, I’d burn to death right along with him. I didn’t want a murder-suicide. I just wanted to smoke the bastard out. I wanted to force him out of his dark little fortress and drag him down to the floor, where I could look him in the eye and fight him to the death. Right on cue, a frantic, violent thrashing echoed from the ceiling panels. The crawl space was filling with thick, toxic smoke and searing heat. He couldn’t take it anymore. Crash! A massive explosion of noise erupted from the hallway. The entire maintenance panel was kicked completely out of its frame. A dark, thrashing mass of burning rags and limbs plummeted from the ceiling, slamming brutally against the hard floor. He had landed. He was a frail, emaciated man, barely five feet tall, wrapped in layers of filthy, shredded cotton coats. His matted hair was literally on fire. He was screaming in agony, rolling wildly across the laminate floor, frantically slapping at the flames eating at his clothes. I gripped my paring knife tight and stepped out into the hall. He was no longer the apex predator lurking in the shadows. He was just a pathetic, burning rat. I didn’t hesitate. I lunged forward, aimed the blade at his exposed thigh, and drove it down with everything I had. Squelch. The blade sank deep into the muscle. He let out another agonizing wail. His cloudy eyes finally registered pure, unadulterated fear. He tried to scramble backward, but I drove my boot squarely into his grotesque, rotting face. “That was for strangling me to death!” I ripped the knife out. Dark blood sprayed across the floor. I raised the knife to finish the job. But right at that second, the sound of metal scraping against metal echoed from the front door. Click. The deadbolt turned. The door swung open, and Chuck’s massive, fleshy frame filled the doorway. He was heavily out of breath, clutching a solid aluminum baseball bat. He had clearly heard the screaming and rushed upstairs. But when he saw the bloodbath in the hallway, he froze. I froze too. I figured he might show up, but I didn’t expect him to be armed to the teeth. And more terrifyingly, when he looked down at the bleeding, burning squatter on the floor, there was absolutely zero surprise in his eyes. Only… pure, unbridled rage. It was the rage of a man watching his expensive property being destroyed. “You useless piece of trash!” Chuck spat, turning around to slam the front door shut, firmly locking the deadbolt behind him once again. He turned back to face me. Those beady little eyes, usually squinting with a sleazy smile, were now blown wide open, radiating absolute malice. “Damn, you’re a vicious little thing, aren’t you?” He slapped the baseball bat against his open palm, taking a slow, heavy step toward me. “This retard might be missing half his brain, but he’s been my loyal guard dog for six months. He’s saved me a ton of headaches. You just crippled him. How the hell am I supposed to run my business now?” His tone was incredibly casual, like he was complaining about a broken vending machine. But the truth hit me like a freight train. This drifter wasn’t some random squatter who broke in. He was Chuck’s attack dog. He was kept on a leash, intentionally used to terrify tenants so they’d break their leases and forfeit their deposits. And sometimes… he was used to dispose of the tenants who didn’t play nice. I gripped my blood-soaked knife, slowly backing away. I was trapped between a wolf and a grizzly bear. And this bear was bigger, stronger, and infinitely more dangerous. “Stay back! I already called the cops!” I screamed, keeping the knife raised. “The cops?” Chuck let out a wet, ugly snort. “I installed a military-grade signal jammer in this shithole. Who did you call? The grim reaper?” No wonder the call failed. “I was just gonna let you stay a month, keep your deposit, and kick you to the curb. But you just had to play the hero.” The fat on Chuck’s face jiggled as he curled his lips into a sickening, predatory smile. “Since you figured out the game, you can stay here permanently and keep them company. I was getting bored of looking at those plastic dolls anyway. A real corpse will really spice up the room.” He raised the aluminum bat high over his head, aiming a lethal swing straight at my skull.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “446001”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

When I was two, I was abducted. My parents searched for me for eight years. When they came to pick me up, I was working in the fields, wearing tattered clothes, my body covered in bruises. I knew they were ashamed of me, that I wasn’t “presentable,” so I desperately worked to earn money. This year, at twenty, I found a decent boyfriend, and we were talking about marriage. Then I discovered they had secretly arranged an engagement party for my sister and my boyfriend. I stood at the doorway, carrying a tray of dishes, and heard my father tell my boyfriend: “Lily has a low education and won’t amount to much. Sarah is different; she’s young, pretty, elegant, and graduated from a prestigious university. She’s a better fit for you.” My mother beamed at this prospective son-in-law. “A perfect match, they look like they were made for each other!” My boyfriend looked uneasy. “Wouldn’t it be bad if Lily found out?” My mother immediately retorted with disdain: “Lily was away for eight years. Who knows what she went through? I heard girls who are abducted often end up with…” “You understand. Your auntie doesn’t want you to regret it later. You should listen to her.” “What, don’t you think our Sarah is good enough?” My boyfriend knelt on one knee in front of everyone, pulling out the engagement ring meant for me and putting it on Sarah’s hand. In that moment, I no longer wanted this family. 1 I stood at the doorway, as if plunged into an ice cave, the dense, pricking pain in my chest almost suffocating me. After the successful proposal, my parents inside clapped and celebrated joyfully. Immediately after, I received a breakup message from my boyfriend. Fearing that staying one second longer would make me crumble, I handed the tray to a colleague and fled the hotel as if escaping. My parents didn’t come home until ten o’clock that night. As they unlocked the door, they were still happily chattering outside. I took out my bank card, placed it on the table, and spoke directly: “For the past two years since I started working, I’ve sent you ten thousand a month for your retirement. Now that Sarah is here and you don’t need me anymore, please return my money.” My parents’ faces instantly darkened. “What kind of talk is that? Sarah is your sister. Besides, she hasn’t even finished her internship yet. How can she support us in our old age?” “What’s gotten into you, making a fuss in the middle of the night? We raised you for ten years; do you think that came free? We finally got a little back, and now you’re asking for it? How can you be so shameless? Did you learn that from your monstrous foster parents?” I took a deep breath. “Alright, in those ten years, I didn’t attend school for a single day. You only took me back to provide food and lodging. Subtract those expenses, and please return the rest to me.” My father was furious, rushing up to me and pointing, cursing. “Lily Reed, you think you’re so tough now, don’t you? Daring to ask me for money? I’m your father!” I suddenly laughed, and as I laughed, tears streamed down my face. I looked at the empty space behind them. “Where’s Sarah? Didn’t she come back with you?” “Let me guess where she went. Is she perhaps at the hotel, bonding with my boyfriend?” My words hit home, and my mother’s face instantly panicked. “How did you know? You’ve been following us!” “Mom, you forgot. I work three part-time jobs, and one of them is at the hotel you went to tonight.” My voice was utterly calm, but my swollen eyes betrayed all my fragility. Seeing that I knew, my mother no longer bothered to act, sitting casually on the sofa. “Since you know, we won’t hide it anymore. Jayden’s family is very well-off; his parents are retired executives. You’re not good enough for him.” “Even if you married him, you wouldn’t have the ability to keep a man. Rather than letting outsiders benefit, it’s better to give him to your sister.” “Sarah is smarter and prettier than you. In the future, we’ll all be family, and you can still benefit from the Harrison family. No need to give me attitude.” Sarah, Sarah, everything was about Sarah. Since returning home after being found, I had constantly lived under the nightmare of this twin sister. Even though we came from the same womb, just because she had never left home and received a good education, in my parents’ eyes, she was better than me in every way. At first, I thought it was because I grew up in the countryside and hadn’t studied. I wanted to go to school too, but as soon as I brought it up, they immediately vetoed it. They said because of what I had been through, they were afraid I would be ostracized by classmates if I went to school. They also said I was introverted and not suitable for interacting with outsiders. As long as Sarah studied well, and she tutored me, it would have the same effect. I believed their words and studied desperately. But later, I realized that wasn’t it at all. They felt having Sarah as a daughter was enough. And I was an extra presence in this family. Spending a single penny on me was a waste of resources. The neighbor, Mrs. Smith, said my parents gave up looking for me a year after reporting me missing. If the police hadn’t insisted on visiting, perhaps they would never have remembered they had another daughter. Years of grievances accumulated in my heart, completely erupting at this moment. I stood up abruptly. “Mom, you know Sarah and I are sisters. Is there a sister who steals her older sister’s fiancé? Are there parents who encourage their daughter to get into her sister’s fiancé’s bed?” “Since you think Sarah is better than me in everything, can’t I just leave?!” My tearful accusation was met with a heavy slap from my mother. “Who taught you to speak to your mother like that?” “You’ve learned from those monstrous foster parents, it’s utterly disgraceful! With your attitude right now, you’ll never be as good as your sister!” Sarah was interning at a big company, and her internship salary was as high as ten thousand. She never gave money to the family; instead, she occasionally needed help from my parents. My monthly fixed transfer of ten thousand was worthless in their eyes. Thinking of this, my tears completely broke free. I snatched the shopping bag from my mother’s hand and threw it to the ground. My mother’s eyes widened, clutching her chest and gasping for breath. “You… you… you’re absolutely rebellious!” My father picked up an ashtray, ready to smash it on my head. The next second, Sarah opened the door and walked in. Both their faces instantly changed. My mother’s heart no longer hurt, and my father was no longer eager to burst into anger. Doting smiles spilled from their lips, and they quickly stepped forward to take the bags from Sarah’s hands. “How was your time with Jayden? Everything alright?” “Mom always said you were a good match for him. I heard his salary is fifty thousand a month. You’ll definitely have a good life if you marry him!” Sarah blushed and lowered her head. “Mom, nothing’s set in stone yet, what are you talking about?” “Oh, by the way, these are things Jayden insisted on giving you. He said he was in a hurry to meet today and didn’t prepare any gifts, so he’s making up for it.” “You were right, Mom, Jayden even wants to give me two hundred eighty thousand dollars for the betrothal gift!” My parents were overjoyed. Sarah then noticed me in the room. Her expression was conflicted. “Sis… you know everything?” Tears welled in her eyes, still the same familiar fragile look from before. “I didn’t mean to. Actually, Jayden just said he didn’t really want to marry you, that’s why Mom and Dad thought of me…” “Please don’t be mad at me, okay?” I was momentarily stunned. “He said that himself?” “Yes, last time I accidentally went to his company to deliver a contract. He thought I was you, and when he found out I wasn’t, he said he wanted to treat me to dinner.” “He knows about your eight years away from home, and he also said…” “He said his parents didn’t want a daughter-in-law who hadn’t been to school, but he didn’t know how to break up with you.” I felt my heart being torn apart bit by bit, then rebuilt in shattered pieces. I smiled, a look uglier than crying. My mother rolled her eyes, her disdain undisguised. “What did I say? The man isn’t blind. He was just interested in you for a while for dating, but how could he choose you for marriage?” “If I hadn’t introduced Sarah to him, the duck in our mouth would have flown away!” “And you still have the nerve to be angry with me? You don’t even know who’s looking out for your best interests!” Sarah, her eyes red, came over and pulled at me. “Sis, if you really like Jayden, how about after we get married, you secretly pretend to be me and meet him? I don’t mind. We’re sisters.” From childhood to adulthood, I don’t know how many times I’d seen her like this. No matter what she coveted, as long as she said she wanted to buy it for me, as compensation for those eight years. The next day, my parents would buy it and give it to her. She got the benefits, and she got the reputation for being sweet. But I, crying and making a scene, became the malicious one in my parents’ eyes. I smiled, and said softly: “No need. Anyway, after tonight, this family will only have one daughter.” “You won’t have to act pitiful anymore.” I turned back to pack my bags. Sarah’s face instantly changed. “Mom, what’s going on? Is she leaving?” “What about my ten thousand allowance?” “Quick, think of something!” My father snorted coldly. “Not only is that ten thousand gone, but she also wants back what she gave us before!” “What kind of debtor did I give birth to! If I had known this day would come, I’d rather have left her in the countryside her whole life!” The three talked outside the door for a long time. When I finished packing, my parents seemed like different people. My mother carried a plate of sweet and sour ribs to me, coaxing, “Lily, you must be tired from work today, huh? Did something upset you at work that made you angry with us?” “Just now, Mom and Dad spoke too harshly. Don’t take it to heart.” “But you know, Mom, Dad, and your sister are the closest people to you in this world. We would never harm you!” I stared coldly at the plate of food. “Mom, actually, I really hate eating meat.” “Every time I eat it, I have to throw up in the bathroom for three hours.” “Do you know why?” My mother’s smile froze. “Why? You never told Mom about this.” “Because ten years ago, they didn’t give me food. I was starving to death, so I had to catch bugs in the dirt, and mice in the house.” My voice was calm, as if telling someone else’s story. My father’s face immediately darkened. “Eat it or don’t eat it, leave her alone!” Sarah glared at him fiercely, then turned and smiled at me. “Sis, if you don’t like it, we won’t make it at home anymore. Mom means well, you can’t make her sad, can you?” “What happened before is in the past. Bringing it up now, aren’t you just deliberately twisting the knife in Mom and Dad’s hearts?” I looked back at her. “Sarah, do you know how disgusting your acting is?” “Are you done? If so, please move aside. I’ll be working overtime tonight to sort out the bills. Then the money will be transferred to my card.” With that, I turned to leave. My mother suddenly squatted on the ground, crying inconsolably. “You’ve finally come home, and now that you’ve grown up, you’re leaving? What am I supposed to do!” “You’re my own flesh and blood. How could I not love you? It’s impossible to treat everyone perfectly equally, but I’ve tried my best, and you’re still not satisfied. If it comes to it, just take my life!” I paused, feeling an overwhelming weariness. “What would I do with your life? You don’t owe me, and I don’t owe you anymore.” “It’s fine this way, just our family.” My mother’s eyes darted, and she actually knelt down before me. “After all that, aren’t you just blaming me for introducing Jayden to Sarah?” “Alright, I was wrong, your mom was wrong! I’ll kowtow to you, beg you to forgive me this once. If you want to get married, tomorrow I’ll pay ten thousand to a matchmaking agency, put all my retirement savings into it. As long as a rich man is willing to take you, you two can get married immediately, I won’t say another word!” My mother kowtowed very forcefully, and blood immediately seeped from her forehead. My father stood up abruptly, pointing and accusing me. “Do you see? Are you trying to force your own mother to die?” “If that’s not enough, your mom and I will kowtow to you together. Giving birth to you was all our fault!” Saying this, he also knelt down. Sarah, sobbing pitifully from the side, choked out: “Sis, I know you don’t like me. After I get married, I’ll move out and never compete with you for Mom and Dad’s affection again, just please don’t leave.” “They really miss you. You don’t know how they lived during those eight years…” I numbly pulled out a photo album from the drawer. Before they came home, I had wanted to take my own photos. But opening it, I found only warm family photos of the three of them. Not a single picture of me. I pointed to their photo at the beach. “Are you talking about these eight years?” I then pointed to their photo of catching dolls. “Or this one?” “It was indeed very sad. I can see, extreme sorrow giving way to extreme joy.” Their faces were grim, they exchanged glances, but for a long moment couldn’t find an excuse to make me stay. Seeing through their expressions, I suddenly laughed, my face cold. Truly a family, even their malicious calculations were identical. My father’s phone suddenly rang. After he answered, a voice immediately congratulated him.

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After a smooth-talking grifter wiped out her savings, my tearful younger sister came to me. I took her in, fought her battles, hired a lawyer, and even gave her my year-end bonus—anything to help her recover. But my boyfriend, Arthur, grew increasingly annoyed. “You handle everything for her, and she doesn’t even thank you. Leighton, are you her mother? If she’s so clueless, she deserved to be scammed!” That’s when I threw a glass at him. I stared him down and said, “She’s my flesh and blood. Our mom died when she was eight—I raised her. So treat her with grace, if not for her, then for me.” Later, I was sent out of state for work. I called daily, watching her rebuild her life through the screen. Everything seemed to be returning to normal. Until two months later, when I came home a day early. I pushed open my bedroom door to find my sister in my favorite silk nightgown, leaning against Arthur’s chest. He was feeding her the sweetest part of a watermelon, his face full of sickening tenderness. 1 The silence in the bedroom was instantly suffocating. Amanda was the first to react. She bolted upright, springing away from Arthur’s chest like she had been burned. Her lips were visibly trembling. “Leighton? What… what are you doing home? Your flight wasn’t supposed to land until Friday…” The spoon in Arthur’s hand froze in mid-air. A drop of red watermelon juice fell, staining my pristine silk bedsheets. The color drained from his face. He didn’t say a single word. I stood frozen in the doorway. My fingers were wrapped so tightly around the handle of my suitcase that my nails were biting into my palms. The air conditioning was humming quietly, yet a cold sweat had broken out across my spine. Amanda forced a smile that looked infinitely worse than a crying fit. “You must be exhausted, Leighton. Here, let me take your bags.” She stumbled toward me barefoot in a frantic rush. Her knee clipped the sharp edge of the bedframe. She hissed in pain, and her eyes instantly welled up with fresh, pathetic tears. Arthur’s brow furrowed immediately. He reached out and caught her by the waist to steady her. “Careful. You’re always rushing into things.” His tone carried a hint of reprimand, but the way his hands lingered on her was so incredibly, disgustingly tender. I stared at his hand resting on her arm. My stomach completely dropped out. “How long has this been going on?” My voice came out much calmer than I expected. Amanda went rigid. She instinctively looked up at Arthur, seeking permission or protection. He gently pulled her behind him, finally locking eyes with me. “Leave her out of this. This is on me.” Arthur was a man of very few words. He was always stoic, never one to wear his heart on his sleeve. When I agreed to date him three years ago, it was exactly because of that steady, grounded nature. He wasn’t like the slick-talking players who left you constantly second-guessing your worth. When our mom passed away, I was twelve, and Amanda was eight. Our dad couldn’t handle the grief. He drowned himself in cheap liquor, skipped shifts, and eventually got fired. Two years later, his liver gave out, and he left us too. From that moment on, I never leaned on another living soul. Arthur was the first person who ever made me feel like being taken care of didn’t have to be a debt. He made me feel like it was okay to take off my armor and just be soft. Yet here he was, standing right in front of me, shielding my little sister with his body and looking at me with eyes colder than winter ice. He was looking at me like I was the enemy. Amanda peeked out from behind his broad shoulders. Her eyes were red and swollen. “Leighton, it’s really not what you think. We just…” “Got your story straight yet?” I cut her off, my voice dripping with ice. “Go ahead. If you’re going to explain, then spell it out. What exactly is your relationship? When did it start? And just how far have you gone?” Amanda flinched. The tears spilled over immediately. She rubbed her eyes like a toddler, letting out these soft, pitiful sobs. I let out a dry, hollow laugh. I didn’t even know if I was laughing at her audacity or my own utter stupidity. Arthur tightened his grip on her hand. His voice was incredibly soft when he spoke to her. “It’s okay. Let me handle this. Put some slippers on, the hardwood is cold.” Then he looked up at me. “Leighton, let’s take this outside.” “Arthur, this is my house.” My voice finally started to shake. “You’re telling me to leave?” He fell silent for a few heavy seconds. He glanced back at Amanda. She was shrinking into herself, her toes curling against the floorboards like a frightened rabbit. When Arthur spoke again, his tone was placating, laced with a pleading edge. “She had a panic attack last night and didn’t fall asleep until four in the morning. Just let her get some rest. Please?” A dull, agonizing ache bloomed in my chest. It felt like someone had shoved a fistful of cotton down my throat. I couldn’t swallow. I couldn’t breathe. In the three years we had been together, I had never seen Arthur beg anyone for anything. He was a proud man. He never backed down in corporate negotiations, and he never apologized when he knew he was right. But right now, he was throwing away all his pride to beg me on behalf of the sister who stole him. Arthur picked up his jacket from the back of the chair. He turned to Amanda and gave her one last gentle instruction. “Go to sleep. Don’t wait up for me. There’s milk in the fridge, make sure you heat it up before you drink it.” I turned on my heel and walked out the front door. If I stayed in that room for one more second, I was going to throw up, or worse, I was going to let them see me cry. 2 Arthur followed me out, keeping exactly half a step behind me the entire way down. His face was buried in the shadows, his expression unreadable. When we reached the underground parking garage, he opened the passenger door of his car for me. I didn’t move an inch. “Right here is fine.” His hand paused on the door handle. He closed it quietly, fished a pack of Marlboros from his pocket, and lit one. The fluorescent lights overhead were flickering, casting a sickly yellow glow over the concrete. The cherry of his cigarette flared bright red in the dimness. “I made the first move.” He took a long drag. His voice was incredibly raspy. “Don’t blame her for this.” “Amanda is your little sister. You practically raised her, so you know exactly how she is. She’s terrified of her own shadow. She doesn’t know how to survive without someone holding her hand. After she got completely wiped out by that last loser, I watched her fall apart… I just couldn’t turn a blind eye.” He flicked his ashes onto the concrete. He still wouldn’t look at me. “But you’re different. Leighton, you are the most capable, fiercely independent woman I have ever met. Even without me, you are going to be completely fine.” I stared at him. I pressed my fingernails so hard into my palms that the skin nearly broke. “So that’s it? Because I’m independent, I deserve to be stabbed in the back by the two people I trusted most?” It was the most absurd, twisted logic I had ever heard in my life. When Amanda first moved into my guest room, Arthur couldn’t even stand hearing her name. If he caught her wandering into the kitchen in her pajamas, his face would twist in disgust. He used to drag me into our bedroom and whisper-shout about how she had zero boundaries and how my apartment wasn’t a halfway house for helpless adults. Two months ago, right before my business trip, I literally begged him to keep an eye on her while I was gone. He stood at the airport drop-off, hands stuffed in his pockets, looking absolutely miserable. She’s your sister, Leighton. She is not my responsibility. That’s exactly what he told me. It had only been eight weeks. And now, this man wearing the face of the person I loved was standing in front of me, speaking words that made him sound like a total stranger. Arthur shoved the cigarette box back into his pocket. His voice was heavy with complicated guilt. “I know I screwed you over. All that money you wired to Amanda to bail her out? I’ll pay you back every last cent. And the condo is yours. I won’t ever set foot in it again.” He paused, taking a shallow breath. “I just have one request. Amanda really, truly looks up to you. Don’t let my mistake destroy your relationship with your sister.” I felt entirely hollow. I was so exhausted by the sheer audacity of it all that I didn’t even have the energy to scream. “If you know that sleeping with my sister is a mistake, then why the hell did you do it?” His jaw ticked. A long time passed before he finally answered. “Leighton, there are some things you just can’t control. It happened. I will do everything in my power to make it up to you.” “But if you blow this up and make a scene, the person who gets hurt the most is Amanda. You don’t want to see your little sister dragged through the mud by the rumor mill. Right?” “I’ll pack her things and take her to my place tomorrow morning. I booked you a suite at the Marriott for tonight. Just give them your name at the front desk.” He turned and walked toward the elevators, leaving me completely alone in the freezing garage. My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a text from him with the hotel address. At the very end of the message, he had typed, I’m sorry. I stared at those two words until my vision blurred. Upstairs, a single warm light was glowing from the window of my condo. I had changed that exact lightbulb with Arthur the day before I left for my trip. Now, that light was shining on someone else. There were millions of lights in this sprawling city. But not a single one was burning for me anymore. I finally crouched down right there on the concrete, burying my face in my knees as my shoulders shook violently. I never went to the hotel he booked. Instead, I drove my car onto the interstate and just kept driving in circles until the sun came up. 3 The next morning, I drove out to the historic district. Tucked away on a quiet street corner was a quaint floral boutique. It was owned by Harper, my old college roommate. When Amanda’s ex-husband threw her out on the street, I was the one who paid the retainer for her divorce lawyer. While the legal battle dragged on, I begged Harper to give Amanda a low-stress job at the shop just to get her out of the house. I paid Amanda’s salary out of my own pocket, strictly forbidding Harper from ever telling her the truth. I still remember Harper laughing at me over the phone. Leighton, why do you treat this girl better than you treat yourself? Amanda was standing on the porch of the boutique. She was wearing a canvas apron, crouching on the ground as she repotted a fern. When she saw me walking up the steps, the metal trowel slipped from her grip and clattered loudly against the pavement. “Leighton? How did you know I was working today?” I didn’t answer. I just pushed past her and walked inside. Amanda scrambled to her feet and scurried in after me. She frantically grabbed a wooden chair, wiping the seat down with the sleeve of her shirt in a desperate, fawning gesture. “Have a seat, please. Let me get you some water.” She spun around too fast and crashed into a display stand. A watering can tipped over, spilling a puddle across the floorboards and soaking her sneakers. She stared down at her wet shoes, then looked back up at me, wringing her hands like a grade-schooler caught stealing candy. Looking at her, my mind drifted back to when we were kids. She was only eight when we lost mom. She was so terrified of the dark that she had to wrap her arms around my neck just to fall asleep. Even as she grew older, she was always attached to my hip. She was like a little shadow I could never shake off. “Leighton.” Her shaky voice pulled me back to the present. “I know you hate me right now.” “But I swear I didn’t plan this. I don’t even know how things spiraled like this.” She tilted her head to look at me. Her eyes were already completely bloodshot. “You’ve been good to me my whole life. I know that. But you were always so busy. You were always fixing my problems, throwing money at the issue, but you never actually had the time to just sit and listen to me. Arthur is different.” “He actually asks me what I had for lunch. He remembers the tiny, stupid details of stories I tell him. He picks up the phone at 3 AM when I have a nightmare.” “You always told me you wanted someone to treat me right. Now I finally have that someone. Why can’t you just be happy for me?” Listening to her play the victim while demanding my blessing made me want to laugh until I threw up. I had poured sixteen years of my life into raising this girl, and she turned out to be an utterly ungrateful snake. “Amanda, since the day you were born, name one thing you asked for that I didn’t give you.” “Your college tuition, your rent, your groceries, your divorce lawyer, the credit cards you maxed out, the thousands of dollars that grifter stole from you. Have you ever actually sat down and calculated how much money and blood I have bled out for you over the years?” “And after all of that, my reward is the sister I raised stealing the man I was going to marry.” She dropped her gaze. Her lips quivered as heavy tears slipped down her cheeks, splashing against the wooden floor. “I was twelve years old doing homework for rich kids just to buy our groceries. At fifteen, I was bussing tables at a greasy diner. A vat of frying oil splashed on my arm and left scars I still have today. When I was twenty, I worked so many overtime shifts that my stomach started bleeding. When the ambulance took me away, there wasn’t a single person sitting next to me in the back of that truck!” I shoved my sleeve up past my elbow, exposing the faded, jagged white scars running up my forearm. “You don’t know any of this. Because I intentionally hid the ugly parts of survival from you so you could have a normal childhood.” She stared at the scarred tissue. The last bit of color drained out of her face. “For sixteen years, I carved out half my life and fed it to you! And how do you repay me?” “You parade around in my clothes, you sleep in my bed, and you climb into my boyfriend’s lap!” She collapsed onto the floorboards in a pathetic heap, her apron smudging against the dirt as she sobbed uncontrollably. I crouched down so I was eye-level with her. The ice in my chest had completely frozen over. Every warm memory I ever had of her was now rotting in my mind. “Amanda, everything you ever wanted, if it was in my power to give, I gave it to you.” “But the things I do not offer, you do not get to steal. You never had the right.” Arthur came sprinting through the door at that exact moment. He took one look at Amanda crumpled on the floor, shivering and sobbing, and his face morphed into pure rage. He crossed the room in three massive strides, yanked her off the ground, and shoved her firmly behind his back. “I told you, if you have a problem, you come to me!” He glanced back at the trembling girl behind him, then turned his furious gaze back on me. The anger in his eyes was visceral. “You know she has a bad heart! Could you not have just talked this out like an adult? Did you really have to push her to the edge of an attack?!” I looked at him and couldn’t help but let out a cold, sharp laugh. “You are getting awfully good at playing the knight in shining armor, Arthur. I recall a time when she first moved in, and you couldn’t even stand the sound of her breathing! Now you’re her patron saint?” Arthur puffed out his chest, looking completely self-righteous. “You want to keep score? Fine! You practically raised her. Calculate every dime you spent on her, every favor you pulled. Give me a number!” “I will pay you back every single cent, plus interest! Will that satisfy you?!” I stared at the stranger standing in front of me. Unbidden, a memory flashed through my mind from three years ago, back when he was trying to win me over. It was the dead of winter. A blizzard had rolled in. He stood outside my office building for three hours waiting for me to finish a late shift, keeping a bag of roasted chestnuts warm inside his coat so I would have something hot to eat. He hadn’t texted me because he didn’t want to stress me out while I was working. He just waited in the freezing wind until his face was raw. Back then, I remember thinking, This man is so undeniably good. Every horrible thing I have ever endured was just the universe testing me so I could save up enough luck to find him. And now, this same man was standing across from me, trying to boil down our entire history. Three years of devotion. Countless late-night conversations. The safety of his arms. Every promise we made about the future. Everything I thought was permanently etched into my soul. He was trying to reduce all of it into a cold, hard number on a bank transfer. A clean break. Paid in full. “Stop it!” Amanda suddenly shrieked, stepping out from behind his back. Her face was drenched in tears, her chest heaving violently as she struggled to catch her breath. Arthur immediately reached out to support her waist, but she slapped his hand away. She lifted her chin and glared at me. Her eyes were burning with an ugly, defiant resentment. “Leighton, I know I did you dirty. I know I owe you a debt I can never repay. But stop acting like you are some holy martyr!” “You raised me for sixteen years. Every meal, every coat, every dollar—I remember all of it. But do you want to know a secret? Growing up, the person I hated most in this entire world was you!” “You handled everything perfectly. You were so flawlessly capable that every time I looked at you, I felt like a piece of trash. You made me feel like I couldn’t survive twenty-four hours without you holding my hand!” “I could never stand tall in your shadow. That’s why I was so desperate to escape you! The only reason I married that absolute loser was because he promised to take me away to a different city!” “Yeah, he turned out to be a scammer too. But this time is different. I am never listening to you again.” She grabbed Arthur’s hand, weaving her fingers tightly through his. “I have finally found my true love. Even if you curse my name for the rest of your life, I am never letting go!” “You already have everything else in the world. So what if you let me have this one man?!”

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My best friend said a woman of my wealth only lacked one thing: security. So my husband synced all my dashcam footage to his phone—the best protection his lawyer skills could offer. That worked until the neighbor girl Penny scratched my car with a shared bike for the tenth time. In her faded uniform, tear-streaked, she pleaded, “Sister, I’m sorry… I’ll pay.” I’d let her go the first nine times. But this time, she just glanced at me, no remorse. “It’s just a scratch. You’re rich—you wouldn’t hassle a poor student, right?” I laughed coldly. “We’ll handle it legally. The dashcam has it all. Full compensation, plus the past nine incidents—three million dollars total.” She froze, then cried, “Three million? You hag, this car’s worth around five hundred thousand! My boyfriend’s a top lawyer—I’m not scared of you!” She didn’t know it was a limited Maybach—one body line alone cost half a million. I shrugged off her threat until the court date. There, a man in a sharp suit held her, whispering, “My crybaby, ready to call me your boyfriend now? I’ll help you send her and her lawyer to jail.” The man was my husband, Danny Davenport—supposedly on a London business trip—the undefeated top-tier lawyer. 1 “Really? She’s so rich, and I’m just a poor student. How could I possibly win against her?” Penny sobbed. Danny wiped the tears from her face. “You don’t trust your boyfriend, hmm?” “Your boyfriend is a famous, top-tier lawyer. I’ll make her kneel and beg for your forgiveness, how about it?” Penny finally broke into a smile through her tears. “Okay.” “Beat that old hag. Humph.” “Alright, my little princess, whatever you say goes.” I stared at the two of them for a long moment, then picked up my phone. Danny answered my call, unconsciously frowning. After a moment, he moved away from Penny and pressed the answer button. Danny’s smiling voice quickly came through: “Honey, you just left and you already miss me?” “Where are you?” I asked directly. Danny paused for only a second. “On a business trip in London, I report to you every day, don’t I?” “Gotta go. Otherwise, the client will get moody.” I watched him lose his smile, his face changing instantly as he hung up. Penny leaned in: “Who were you talking to?” Danny quickly kissed her on the cheek. “Just some insignificant woman. What, are you jealous?” I stood not far away, watching the backs of the two, like a couple deeply in love, and my heart involuntarily twitched. I didn’t attend the hearing that day; I sent my assistant in my stead. That evening, I returned home. I sat on the sofa, flipping through photo albums, looking at every little moment with Danny, my heart numb. Danny graduated from a prestigious university, and at a young age, he had already become a top-tier professional in his field. Everyone said we were a perfect match. Until then, I believed it too. I laughed, a self-mocking sound. Then, a text message arrived on my phone. Penny flaunted a message to me. “What’s the use of having so much money? Does anyone love you, old hag?” “But my boyfriend loves me very much.” Then came a series of intimate photos of them, hand in hand, cheek to cheek. The last one was her victory statement. I stared at that victory statement, every word on it mocking me. Before I could even reply, Danny’s call came in. “Blair Kingsley, what’s wrong with you? A woman almost thirty, making things difficult for a nineteen-year-old girl.” “How could you be so vicious, making a poor student pay three million dollars?” I smiled. So he knew it was me on the other side. And he knew the whole story, yet still chose to help her win the lawsuit. Truly a top-tier lawyer. I didn’t say anything, just hung up the phone and called my company lawyer. “I’m sorry, Ms. Kingsley, we’re simply no match for your husband.” “All of your dashcam videos were deleted by your husband. We have no substantial evidence to prove the car was scratched by the other party.” “It’s alright. I have another lawsuit, and I might need to trouble you further.” The person on the other end paused. “What lawsuit? Why not ask Mr. Davenport?” I spoke slowly. “A divorce lawsuit.” “He’s the defendant.” 2 Danny returned three days later. I merely gave him a cold glance and turned to walk away. “Blair, honey, why are you still angry?” “My attitude was bad the other day, I apologize, okay? I was too short-tempered.” “When I saw Penny, I remembered when I was in college, I was just as poor as her. I couldn’t even afford to eat. That’s why I felt sympathy.” He didn’t mention his relationship with Penny at all. “We don’t lack this money in our family. Just consider it good karma, helping the poor.” I stared at him, unmoving. Danny took my hand and led me out, saying it was compensation to buy me a handbag. Initially, I didn’t want to go, but I had been cooped up at home for too long these past few days. As we entered, a shop assistant walked over. “Ms. Kingsley, you’re here? And your husband too?” She enthusiastically showed me the new arrivals. Danny said beside me, “My dear wife, pick any bag you like today.” “Consider it my apology for upsetting you.” The shop assistants whispered to each other. “Mr. Davenport is so good to you, Ms. Kingsley.” “You two are even at the top of our city’s exemplary couple list.” Exemplary couple? I laughed mockingly. No longer interested in choosing a bag, I just picked one at random. Just then, Penny ran over, her face alight with surprise, and grabbed Danny’s arm. “Danny, darling, what are you doing here?” “Wow, the bag in Ms. Kingsley’s hand is so beautiful.” The shop assistant froze, looking at us in confusion. I watched Penny’s expression. It seemed she already knew I was Danny’s wife, yet she showed no intention of avoiding him. No, perhaps she had known all along. My eyes lowered, and I handed the bag toward her. “Pretty, isn’t it? Two million dollars. You wouldn’t earn that even if you worked your fingers to the bone for ten years.” Penny’s expression stiffened, then tears started to fall. She didn’t speak, just stared at Danny with tearful, wronged eyes, and after a long moment, she cried out. “I really can’t afford it.” “But Mrs. Davenport, you don’t have to look down on people so much. I’m poor, so what? Does being poor mean I don’t deserve to live?” “I’ll leave, alright? I’ll never appear before you rich, noble people again.” Danny frowned at me, his earlier patience for coaxing completely gone. “Who says she can’t afford it? I’ll pay for this bag for her.” With that, he pulled out a ten-dollar canvas bag from somewhere, throwing it at me. “You wear this today.” “Go reflect on yourself, on when you became so snobbish, looking down on the poor.” “You’re nothing but a parasite who only got by on family connections since childhood. In another ten years, Penny might not be any worse than you.” He finished speaking and ran after Penny, leaving me alone in the store. The shop assistants exchanged glances, then looked at me with pity. I watched his retreating back, my heart involuntarily contracting. A fine, prickling pain, like needles, intense and pervasive. I lowered my eyes, masking my emotions, pulled out my phone, took a photo of the bag’s payment record, and the backs of the two embracing downstairs. “Mr. Stark, evidence of infidelity.” 3 “Received.” I looked at Mr. Stark’ text, lowered my eyes, then put my phone away. The shop assistant behind me looked at me timidly. “Ms. Kingsley, that bag was the last one — are you still displaying your photo with Mr. Davenport?” My gaze shifted to the photo on the store’s shelf. It displayed a picture of Danny and me taken right after we graduated from college. Danny had just joined the law firm then, still an unknown legal assistant. He saved up his first three months’ salary, earned from eating instant noodles, to buy me the cheapest bag in this store. When he gave it to me, he held me and said, “Though I don’t have much money now, Blair, I promise you. We will definitely have a happy and bright future, definitely.” That bag is still in my closet, my favorite one. Because every time I saw it, I remembered Danny’s words, immersed in the future he had planned. Now he had money, successful and famous. That photo, however, felt like a slap, a harsh blow to my face. “Ms. Kingsley?” The shop assistant’s voice pulled me back from my memories. My gaze fell upon that photo. My smile in the picture was radiant, I had never imagined a day like this. “Throw it away.” “It’s not important anymore.” What use was a useless photo? Just like a useless person, I no longer wanted him. I averted my eyes, fiddling with my phone, then walked out of the store without looking back. I spent three hours by the sea, letting the wind blow over me. From dating in college to being married for seven years, every little moment replayed in my mind. That dull pain in my heart, which had surged like the waves, now completely subsided. I sent him a message. “Tomorrow is our seventh anniversary. I think we should talk.” Danny didn’t reply to me. Penny, however, posted something on her social media. She showed off the designer bag Danny had given her, with the caption: “The one who loves you will cross a thousand mountains and ten thousand rivers to be with you.” “In love, only the unloved are the home wreckers.” Then I saw Danny had liked her post. I laughed mockingly. He had time to look at social media, but no time to reply to my message. Fortunately, I didn’t care anymore. Just then, my phone suddenly received a video call invitation. It was from Penny. “Sister. Guess where I am now?” “Sister is indeed rich. Even the dogs in her house eat better than me. A mere animal, what right does it have?” I looked at Penny in the video. At some point, she had gone to my villa, and Snowball, the dog I had raised since it was a puppy, was tightly held in her arms. “What do you want? Let go of it.” Snowball had always been aggressive towards people it disliked. It struggled wildly in her arms, perhaps having heard my voice. It struggled even harder, and Penny gripped its head tightly. Snowball turned its head and bit Penny’s hand hard. I watched Penny’s face, which had been flaunting, begin to contort. “You dead animal.” “That old hag bullying me is one thing, but you’re bullying me too.” Penny, wearing high heels, brutally kicked Snowball. I ran like a madwoman. “Don’t you dare touch it.” The ten-minute walk from the beach to my house, I covered in just five minutes. But it was still too late. I pushed open the door of my house and saw Snowball lying on the ground, tears in its eyes, whimpering softly. That was the expression it only showed when it was in pain. My heart was fiercely pierced. “Penny, let go of it. You let go of it.” Penny smiled at me. “Sister, you’re back. Your house is really big, it’s just that your dog is a little naughty.” “Oh, by the way, are you so out of breath because you rushed back for this dog?” She looked down at Snowball, her eyes suddenly turning sinister, and she laughed at me. “You wait. I’ll bring it down for you right away.” I saw her expression, and a bad premonition instantly enveloped me. “No—”

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1 I never, in a million years, thought the three titans of my lab would get so bored they’d make a bet about me. The prize was a batch of top-tier, imported lab reagents. The wager? To see which of them this dirt-poor grad student, who barely scraped her way in, would try to seduce within a month to scrounge for equipment access and funding. So that’s how we’re playing it? Hard mode? Fine. I’ll see their bet and raise them a full-blown psychological drama, turning their little competition into an all-out war. Now, they’re practically tripping over each other to give me access, approve my funding, and invite me to their projects, the original bet long forgotten. And me? The former “target” of their wager? I’m just sipping the coffee they brought me, watching them fight for my affection. Honestly, fellas. If you’d just been this helpful from the start, we could have avoided all this drama. … My name is Aria, and I’m the lab’s resident stray. My advisor, Professor Freeman, is a legend who exists only in the signature of his emails. The most valuable things he ever gave me were my “last-chance admission” status and the sage advice to “be self-reliant.” To graduate, I’ve honed the art of resource-scrounging to a razor’s edge. My skin has thickened accordingly. The lab’s three big shots are my primary targets. Caden, the cold, brilliant academic, is the gatekeeper of all lab equipment. Want to use a machine? You have to get through an approval process stricter than airport security. Blake, the walking ATM, controls the lab’s finances. A single vial of reagent from his private fridge is worth more than everything I own. And Noah, the tech wizard, is a professional award-winner. I can’t even find the power button on the advanced equipment he builds. Today, my graduation data hit yet another wall. I mustered the courage to ask Caden to borrow an instrument, only to be shut down with a curt “I’m using it” and “It needs maintenance.” Then I tried asking Blake for some reagents. He pushed up his glasses, a sly, fox-like grin on his face. “Ah, this one is for core team members only.” The final blow came during the group meeting. Noah, with his typical bluntness, tore my data to shreds in front of everyone, even criticizing the color scheme of my charts. Once is a coincidence. Twice is an accident. Three times… this was a coordinated attack. It wasn’t until I saw an open chat window on a public computer that it all clicked. [Betting she’ll come after one of us for resources within a month.] [I’ll put up that batch of imported reagents as the prize.] [Deal.] The timestamp was from a week ago. Well, damn. And here I thought I was just trying to graduate. Turns out I’m the star of a reality show: Love & Lab Coats. Before discovering this earth-shattering wager, my life in the lab was simple, tedious, and soul-crushing. My days were more tangled than a kitten’s ball of yarn. In the morning, I’d get up before dawn to help pack meals in the cafeteria for a free breakfast. Then I’d rush to the lab’s common area to fight for a computer older than I am, constantly oscillating between “It’s almost done!” and “It crashed again.” At noon, I’d choke down a stale, discounted bread roll while sprinting to another campus to work as a teaching assistant, grading an endless mountain of papers. In the afternoon, I’d squeeze in experiments back at the lab, my most fervent prayer being, “Please, dear God of machinery, don’t break down. I can’t afford to fix you.” Evenings were spent either bussing tables at a local diner or tutoring kids who would ask, “Teacher, why are you always so sleepy?” I’d usually stumble back to my dorm late at night, forcing my eyes open to read papers and write reports, often waking up with a jolt after falling asleep at my desk, a page of my draft soaked through. I was a perpetual motion machine, the broke edition, fueled by sheer desperation to graduate and eat. Chasing a guy? Romance? That was a luxury for people with time, money, and a full head of hair. We were from different worlds. They floated on clouds, discussing top-tier journals, competitions, and their bright academic futures. I was down in the mud, clawing my way toward a diploma and a job that could ease the burden on my family. My daily worries were whether my data would run, if I’d be late for my part-time job, and if the cafeteria lady would be generous with her serving spoon. I never imagined that a low-level lab rat like me would become the subject of a bet between the three top dogs. Does this count as my big break? After discovering the bet, I spent a solid half-hour doing angry sit-ups on my dorm bed. But anger wasn’t going to get me anywhere. I had to get smart. They wanted to see me chase one of them? Fine. I’ll show them a “targeted strike” of affection so precise and devastating it’ll make their experimental data look sloppy. 2 Three o’clock in the afternoon. The lab’s common area was at its busiest. The three big shots were huddled around Noah’s computer, staring at a screen of what looked like pure chaos—some advanced algorithm, apparently. I chose my moment and made my grand entrance, carrying a tray of coffees I’d spent a small fortune on. “Hey guys, you’re all working so hard! I brought coffee for everyone!” My smile was radiant, projecting the warmth of a loving, supportive colleague. The background noise of the lab screeched to a halt. You could feel the unspoken question hanging in the air: Aria is treating? Aria, the girl who could split a penny eight ways and had mastered eighteen different methods of mooching Wi-Fi, was actually buying coffee? I could read the shock in their eyes. My reputation as the lab’s number-one cheapskate was legendary. The last time the senior students went out for a group dinner, I’d successfully escaped paying my share by claiming I had to rush back to “take in my laundry.” The time before that, when everyone chipped in for the professor’s birthday, my contribution was a handmade card on paper I’d salvaged from the recycling bin. But I ignored their stunned faces, my gaze locking onto Caden. In front of everyone, I presented him with the “special order”—a hot, black Americano, no sugar, no milk. “Caden, this one’s for you. I remembered you’re lactose intolerant, so this should be perfect.” My tone was the epitome of casual thoughtfulness. The air grew thick. Caden’s expression was a complex mix of suspicion and confusion. “You… you bought this?” I almost broke character. My inner self was screaming. No, I used the power of my sincere gaze to convince the coffee machine to give it to me for free! This cost me two lunches, you fool! The pain was real. But on the outside, I lowered my head slightly, my voice soft but with a hint of defiance. “Yeah, I did. You guys are always helping me out. It’s the least I could do.” Helping me out by blocking all my resources, you mean! I seethed internally. Blake pushed his gold-rimmed glasses up his nose, a faint, knowing smile playing on his lips. “Well, isn’t our Aria being unusually… generous. And so thoughtful, too. I guess you’re desperate to get your data from that HPLC Caden is guarding?” Caden’s hand, which had been reaching for the coffee, froze. His eyes narrowed, studying my face. Here we go. The show was on. In the next second, my eyes welled up. I looked at Blake with wide, “innocent” eyes, my expression a perfect picture of disbelief and hurt. “You’ve got it all wrong, Blake.” My voice was soft, my gaze pure as the driven snow. “I’ll figure out my own data. I can’t just expect everyone to take care of me all the time.” I bit my lower lip, then turned to Caden. My eyes now held a perfect blend of sympathy, admiration, and a shy “I understand you” look. “I saw Caden in the instrument room late last night, calibrating the equipment. He works so hard… I just thought he deserved a little extra care. That’s all.” My voice grew quieter, and a faint blush crept up my cheeks for added effect. I had perfectly embodied the image of a secret admirer, too shy to express her feelings but deeply concerned for her senior. I was so convincing, I almost believed it myself. Caden was clearly thrown by my direct approach. He looked at the coffee in my hand like it was a hot potato, unsure whether to take it. Was that… a blush creeping up his neck? He cleared his throat and, under the complicated stares of his two friends, took the coffee. His voice was a little strained. “Thanks for the thought.” Exactly the reaction I wanted. “You’re welcome!” I beamed at him. Then, as if just remembering the other two, I let out a little “Oh!” and offered them the remaining cups. “Blake, Noah, these are for you.” Blake’s smile was a bit forced. “How very kind of you, Aria.” Noah just grunted, took a cup, and said nothing. I pretended not to notice their expressions, but inside, I was cackling. Men! They all need the validation of female attention to feel secure in their own charm. They might not be interested in me personally, but with a bet on the line, whoever I “chased” would be the implicit winner. Oh, the beautifully childish male ego. 3 Just as I predicted, Blake and Noah exchanged a look that clearly said, So she’s going for Caden. I was screaming internally: You sweet summer children. You have no idea. Just when they thought I was about to launch a full-scale offensive on Caden, I calmly sat down. From my worn canvas tote bag, I dug around, and dug around, and dug some more, finally pulling out a wrinkled, 30-cent Snickers bar. “Here.” I shyly offered the candy bar to Noah. “Noah, you looked a little pale at the last meeting. Maybe low blood sugar. You should keep this handy.” Noah stared at the pathetic-looking Snickers bar as if it had personally offended him. His face was a perfect picture of bewilderment. Blake and Caden stared at each other, their expressions screaming, “WTF???” I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing at their collective confusion. But as amusing as the drama was, I had bills to pay. To scrape together next semester’s housing fees, I had opened up a new front on the battlefield of part-time jobs. “Mr. Rossi’s Diner,” a greasy spoon on the street behind campus. Today was my first day on the job. Dressed in an oversized uniform left by the previous employee, I was wiping down a table when the bell over the door jingled. I reflexively pasted on my professional smile. “Welcome t—” The “o” got stuck in my throat. Oh, crap. Why in the world were Caden and Blake in a place where the average meal cost less than ten dollars? Weren’t they supposed to be at some fancy restaurant discussing molecular gastronomy? My brain went into red alert. My body reacted faster than my thoughts, and I made a move to dive into the kitchen. But Blake’s radar-like eyes had already locked onto me. He blinked, and then a smug, “Gotcha!” grin spread across his face. He nudged Caden. Caden turned. The “mere mortals, do not approach” expression on his face cracked when he saw me, clad in a grease-stained apron, precariously balancing a tray. What are you looking at? Never seen a beautiful woman bussing tables before? I managed a smile that was uglier than a grimace. “Right this way, gentlemen.” As I led them to a booth, Blake drawled, his voice dripping with mock surprise. “Well, well, Aria? Small world, isn’t it? You’ve certainly got a wide range of talents.” I was mentally rolling my eyes so hard I was afraid they’d get stuck. It’s my first day, you jerk! But I kept the smile plastered on my face. “You’re too kind. Life’s tough, got to be versatile.” I continued my performance, sneaking a shy, embarrassed glance at Caden. He, in turn, had sunk into a strange silence. After taking their order, I waited for Caden to head to the restroom, then scurried over to the cash register. “Mr. Rossi,” I whispered to the owner, “that table over there… when they’re done, if there are any untouched dishes, could you maybe… pack them up for me?” The owner looked at me, confused. “You haven’t eaten dinner?” I lowered my head, my voice even quieter, laced with embarrassment. “I spent my meal money on coffee today…” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Caden stop dead in his tracks on his way back from the restroom. Just as I’d planned. When he returned to his seat, his gaze was even more complicated. Later, as I was serving their food, my hand “trembled,” and a dish of chili oil nearly spilled all over me. Just as I was about to star in a tragic B-movie titled Waitress Down, a long, clean hand shot out and steadied the teetering plate. It was Caden. His brow was furrowed, and his eyes darted from my face to the counter where I’d been begging for leftovers. His voice was low. “You haven’t eaten dinner?” Hook, line, and sinker. I set the dish down, my head bowed as I twisted the corner of my apron. My voice was barely a whisper, filled with the panic of being caught. “Oh! N-no, it’s fine. I’m used to it. I… I went a little over budget with the coffee this afternoon.” 4 It was true, I hadn’t eaten. Those coffees were a major expense. My heart was still bleeding over it. He watched me in silence, the cool indifference in his eyes slowly replaced by sheer disbelief. He probably couldn’t comprehend how someone could be so broke that buying a few coffees meant skipping a meal. Caden barely touched his food. He poked at his rice for ages, his gaze constantly drifting in my direction. When Blake tried to talk to him, he just mumbled noncommittal responses. As I weaved between tables, my mind was racing with calculations: the “pity + coffee” combo was working beautifully. Finally, they finished their meal. Blake took a call and left, and I was about to breathe a sigh of relief when I realized Caden hadn’t moved. He had shifted to a less conspicuous table near the door. I snuck a glance during a lull. The guy had his phone out and was pretending to read emails. Seriously? His acting was worse than mine. Who reads academic emails in a noisy, greasy diner? I pretended not to notice and went about my work—clearing tables, wiping them down, greeting new customers. But even while busy, I kept the performance going. I made sure to “accidentally” pass by his table several times, “casually” wiping sweat from my brow, and letting out a soft, pitiable grunt while lifting a heavy stack of bowls. From the corner of my eye, I could see “Mr. CEO” wasn’t reading a single word. His frown deepened, and his fingers swiped aimlessly at the screen. At 9:30, the diner closed. I rubbed my aching back, said goodbye to Mr. Rossi, and dragged my exhausted body out the door. A figure immediately blocked my path. It was Caden. He had actually waited all this time. Under the dim streetlight, he looked a little flustered. He was clutching a takeout bag, and the tips of his ears were distinctly red. “Here,” he said, holding out the bag. His tone was clipped, but his eyes avoided mine. “I was… waiting for you. It was on my way.” I almost burst out laughing. On your way? Dude, you live in the fancy apartments on the east side of campus, and I live in the crumbling dorms on the west. Your “way” is a bit of a detour. But I instantly switched into “surprised and flattered” mode, my eyes lighting up. “Caden, you waited for me?” He cleared his throat and shoved the bag into my hands, his gaze fixed on a distant lamppost. “Just eat it.” I took the warm, fragrant bag, and a genuine flicker of gratitude went through me—I was starving. But the show must go on. I looked up at him with wide, watery eyes, my voice soft. “Caden, you’re such a good person. You’re so smart and so considerate.” I blushed on cue, lowered my head, and mumbled, “I wish… I wish I could always meet people as nice as you.” Then, I “panicked,” looking up as if I’d said something scandalous, and quickly tried to backtrack. “Oh! I mean, thank you! I-I should go.” Clutching the food like a lifeline, I turned and practically ran toward my dorm. After a safe distance, I snuck a peek back. Caden was still standing there, a long, lonely figure under the streetlight. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, touched his ear again, and then, almost comically out of sync, turned and walked in the opposite direction. Seeing him looking like a flustered, love-struck teenager, a smirk played on my lips. I hugged the warm takeout container and hummed a little tune all the way back to my dorm.

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