Category: English

The day before my final senior exams, a girl showed up at my house claiming she was my parents’ biological daughter. I knew she had deliberately chosen the day before the exams to show up, hoping the shock would make me fail. Because she was reincarnated, and I had transmigrated into this book. 1 The day before my final exams, my parents’ biological daughter knocked on our door. She said we had been switched at birth in the hospital and asked for a DNA test. My mom immediately hugged her and burst into tears. “Sweetheart, we don’t need a DNA test. A mother just knows. You are definitely my daughter.” The reason was simple: this “true daughter” looked exactly like my mom did in her youth. The true daughter seemed a little stunned. She looked at me and said, “Maybe we should still do it. Just in case I made a mistake.” “It’s not a mistake,” my mom wept. “You are my daughter.” But at the true daughter’s strong insistence, they still had someone come over to collect samples for a rapid DNA test. After the technician collected their three swabs and was about to leave, the true daughter spoke up at the perfect moment. “Harper, you should take one too.” The atmosphere instantly grew awkward. I just smiled and said, “No need. You guys go ahead.” She was persistent. “You really should. Just in case I’m the one who made a mistake, it would give everyone peace of mind.” My dad said flatly, “It’s fine. Harper already did a DNA test with us.” I flashed the true daughter a sweet smile. This reincarnated true daughter had no idea that she wasn’t the only one who knew the plot. I knew it too. Because I was a transmigrator, and I actually knew more of the story than she did. I knew long ago that she would show up at the Sterling family’s doorstep the day before the finals. She believed her past life was miserable because the original owner of my body had stolen her rightful place. So, she wanted revenge. She deliberately chose to drop this bomb the day before the exams to catch Harper off guard and ruin her academic future. In the original novel, the original Harper was the state’s Valedictorian. But after the true daughter’s sudden appearance, Harper’s mental state collapsed, and she bombed the exams. So, before the true daughter even knocked on our door, I had already found an excuse to tell my parents that I suspected I wasn’t their biological child. At my request, we did a DNA test. The results were obvious: I was not a Sterling. I immediately offered to move out, but my parents refused. After all, they had raised me for eighteen years. Even without blood ties, the love was still there. To ease the true daughter’s awkwardness, my mom proactively brought up changing her name. And so, even before her DNA results were officially printed, Olivia Hayes became Olivia Sterling. 2 After returning to the living room, Olivia said, “Mr. and Mrs. Sterling, until the DNA results are officially out, I should probably go back to the Hayes family.” My adoptive mother couldn’t bear to let her go. She gently started asking about the Hayes family’s situation. When Olivia arrived today, she was wearing a faded, washed-out t-shirt. I knew my adoptive mother wasn’t saying it out loud, but she already assumed Olivia had a terrible life with the Hayes family and wanted her to stay immediately. Olivia looked hesitant. “Dad is a doctor, and Mom is a teacher. Even though they don’t make much money, squeezing into our tiny house together is still really happy.” I mentally highlighted the key words in Olivia’s speech: don’t make much money and tiny house. My adoptive mother’s face changed instantly. Her eyes filled with heartache. “Olivia, please don’t go back. Your final exams are tomorrow. Tossing and turning with all this traveling… I’m worried it will affect your performance.” My adoptive father thought for a moment before finally speaking up. “Give me the Hayes family’s contact info. I’ll communicate with them.” He made the call from his study, so none of us knew exactly what he said. But not long after, my biological parents appeared at the entrance of the Sterling mansion. The two sets of parents stayed in the living room to talk, while Olivia and I were sent back to our rooms. Because Olivia arrived so suddenly, my adoptive mother could only put her in the guest room for now. Once back in my room, I quickly organized my luggage and the supplies I needed for tomorrow’s exams. There really wasn’t much to pack. Since the day I realized I had transmigrated into a book, I had been preparing for this. I knew Olivia would show up eventually, and my time at the Sterlings was limited. It was better to be packed and ready than to be kicked out. I don’t know what they discussed downstairs, but my biological parents actually agreed to let me stay at the Sterlings’ house until my exams were over, after which we would do our own DNA test. When they were leaving, I walked them out. My biological mom took my hand, her voice incredibly gentle. “Can I call you Harper?” I nodded. “Of course.” She smiled warmly. “Harper, right now, nothing is more important than your exams. Whether we cry or laugh about this, let’s save it all for after you’re done testing, okay?” She spoke so softly, offering me endless comfort. I knew she was terrified that this sudden upheaval would ruin my state of mind. But how could it? In my past life, just like the original Harper, I was also my state’s Valedictorian. Olivia, on the other hand? In the original novel, after she reincarnated, she was so obsessed with scheming against Harper that she barely touched her textbooks. She ended up failing to even get into a community college. She still didn’t realize that in the original novel, both she and Harper were nothing more than cannon fodder meant to make the female lead look good. 3 Exam day arrived. Olivia and I were assigned to different testing centers. In the original book, Olivia played the insecure victim card, manipulating Mr. and Mrs. Sterling into driving her to the exam center together. Meanwhile, the original Harper—reeling from the double blow of finding out she wasn’t their real daughter and being suddenly neglected by the parents who raised her—performed disastrously on her first subject. Taking these exams is like a domino effect; if you mess up the start, your mental state shatters, ruining everything that follows. To top it off, later in the week, Olivia secretly tampered with Harper’s food, giving her severe food poisoning and forcing her to take the rest of her exams while violently ill. As a result, the Harper who was supposed to be Valedictorian ended up barely qualifying for a low-tier community college. Meanwhile, the original female lead—who had always been forever second place—effortlessly claimed the Valedictorian title. And Olivia? Even worse. Before her reincarnation, she had been out of school for years. She had forgotten everything and lacked the discipline to study. She couldn’t even get into a community college, so Mr. Sterling eventually paid an exorbitant fee to ship her off to an overseas diploma mill. Knowing Olivia was going to pull a stunt, I spoke up first at breakfast. I proactively suggested my adoptive parents drive her to the testing center. “I already scoped out my route yesterday. I know exactly how to get there, I can just take an Uber.” Oh, you want to play the innocent white lotus? Two can play that game. Hearing this, my adoptive mother looked instantly heartbroken for me. Olivia was caught completely off guard. She just sat there, mouth slightly open, desperately trying to maintain her fake, sweet smile. It was hilarious. My adoptive father frowned. “Harper, what nonsense are you talking about? Your mother will drive Olivia, and I will drive you.” In the original book, the Sterlings were actually always very good to Harper. Even after she moved back to the Hayes family, they frequently visited her. I flashed a harmless smile. “Okay!” The smile on Olivia’s face slowly vanished. 4 After the exams finished, the official DNA results came back. Unsurprisingly, Olivia was the Sterlings’ true daughter. The moment she saw the paperwork, Olivia shot me a provocative glare before throwing herself into Mrs. Sterling’s arms, sobbing loudly. Mr. Sterling stood to the side, silently lighting a cigarette. I walked up to him. “Dad, can we talk?” He instinctively put out the cigarette. He glanced at Mrs. Sterling and Olivia, who were crying their eyes out, and nodded. “Let’s go to the study.” I followed him in. The soundproofing in the Sterling house was top-tier. The moment the study door clicked shut, the crying vanished completely. I got straight to the point. “Dad, now that the results are out, I’m planning to move back to the Hayes house today.” He froze. “Harper, have you thought this through? Our family isn’t short on money. We can easily afford to raise both of our daughters.” In the original book, when Harper moved out, he tried to make her stay just like this. They say the bond of raising a child is stronger than blood. Eighteen years of living together isn’t something a piece of paper can just sever. I smiled gently. “Dad, from the moment I found out I wasn’t your biological daughter, I already made my decision.” “If I stay, Olivia will definitely feel uncomfortable. There will inevitably be friction between us. No matter who you and Mom side with, the other will feel wronged.” In this regard, I actually sympathized with Olivia. Having eighteen years of wealth and privilege taken from you? It’s completely normal for her to be resentful. But in this situation, both she and Harper were innocent victims of a hospital error. Harper’s biological parents never mistreated Olivia. Olivia’s miserable past life was entirely her own doing. She shouldn’t have pinned all that hatred on Harper. I continued, “Besides, my biological parents only have one daughter. If I stay here, what about them?” This was the responsibility the original Harper owed them. Since I had taken over her body, I had to fulfill that duty. Mr. Sterling fell silent for a long time before sighing. “Harper, you’ve grown up. You’re thinking about things much more thoroughly than before.” I replied softly, “People have to grow up eventually.” Looking guilty, he pulled a property deed out of his desk drawer. “I was originally going to give this to you as a gift when you started college. Take it with you to the Hayes house.” I shook my head and didn’t take it. “Dad, I’ll just pack the clothes you bought me and my personal items. I don’t need anything else.” In the original book, Olivia threw a massive fit at the Hayes house specifically because of this property. “Listen to me.” He forcefully pressed the deed into my hands. “I raised you for eighteen years. You are my daughter. Even if you go to the Hayes family, that will never change.” But in the end, I still didn’t accept it. I knew that if I took this multi-million dollar property, I wouldn’t be able to righteously put Olivia in her place the next time she tried to start drama. I understood the principle of not biting the hand that feeds you.

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I am the true heiress who was intentionally switched at birth. When my biological parents finally found me… I had already joined the neighborhood senior citizens’ Zumba squad. They looked at my bright, floral-embroidered velour tracksuit. And their faces twisted in absolute disgust. 1 “You’re Chloe? These clothes…” Seeing the bedazzled floral tracksuit I was wearing, the elegantly dressed woman faltered. Ignoring the fleeting look of disgust in her eyes, I dropped the twenty-pound bag of rice and the gallon jug of cooking oil from my shoulder, then pulled a giant Stanley tumbler out of my tote bag. After taking a slow sip of my iced tea, I looked at the group standing in front of me and asked, “So, you’re my biological parents?” Richard frowned but nodded. “Yes. We are your biological parents.” “And her?” I pointed at the frail, delicate-looking girl standing behind them. The girl’s eyes instantly welled up with tears. The two young men standing beside her—one older, one younger—instinctively stepped forward to shield her. “Don’t you dare bully Serena!” The younger one couldn’t hold back and yelled what was on his mind. I stared at the girl’s face, which shared a fifty-to-sixty percent resemblance to mine. Then I looked at the Sterling family’s protective attitude toward her. Instantly, I found this whole family incredibly amusing. I leaned back against my dilapidated sofa, watching them with the detached amusement of someone watching a soap opera. Perhaps realizing his brother’s outburst was inappropriate, the older guy stepped up to explain: “We know you’ve suffered a lot all these years, but that was all that woman’s fault. Serena is completely innocent…” Before he could finish his sentence, the door to my cramped apartment was pushed wide open. A massive group of aunties and grannies—all wearing the exact same floral velour tracksuit as me—swarmed inside. They instantly surrounded my biological parents, talking over each other to defend me: “So you’re our little Chloe’s real parents!” “What took you so long? Do you have any idea what Chloe has been through all these years?” “Let me tell you, that adopted mother of hers is a monster! You know those heavy wooden baseball bats? That woman would pick one up and beat her without a second thought!” “Exactly! Starving her was an everyday thing, but in the dead of winter, she purposely shredded Chloe’s winter coat so the poor girl had to walk to school in a ripped T-shirt. And during the state scholarship exams, she locked Chloe in her room so she couldn’t go!” “I always said there was no way a real mother could be that evil. Turns out, she really wasn’t!” “You need to have the cops arrest that woman! And you better investigate that fake daughter of yours, too. She probably knew her mom switched the babies on purpose…” “Wait, who’s crying?” Auntie Martha, who was leading the pack, suddenly paused. The group of aunties looked around to find the source of the sobbing, their eyes finally landing on the girl in the pristine white dress. “Sister, I’m… I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to steal your life, I…” The girl lowered her head, crying so hard her shoulders shook. “Is this her?” Auntie Martha’s eyes widened, putting a finger to her lips in a hushed motion. I nodded. “Yep. That’s Brenda Miller’s biological daughter, Serena Sterling.” 2 “Chloe, Brenda Miller is Brenda Miller. The things she did have absolutely nothing to do with Serena.” My biological older brother, Grayson Sterling, spoke up. The rest of the Sterling family nodded, completely agreeing with him. But these were women who survived the cutthroat gossip circles of the neighborhood. With a single exchanged glance, the aunties saw right through the dynamics. Before the Sterlings could say another word, Auntie Betty—a woman who refused to even coddle her own grandsons—went on the offensive. “Oh, please, you can’t spin it like that!” “Whether the girl is innocent or not is one thing. But by standing there crying like a victim, what is Chloe supposed to do? Is she supposed to turn around and comfort her?” Auntie Betty marched over and rolled up my sleeves, revealing the jagged scars on the backs of my hands. “Look at this! Her own mother burned her with a red-hot clothing iron!” “Now look at this girl. Draped in designer brands, raised with soft skin and delicate hands.” “If you expect Chloe to apologize to her and comfort her, do you honestly think that’s fair?” Auntie Betty then turned her sights on Serena. “Listen, little girl. Maybe we can’t blame you for what your mother did, but do you have any idea what kind of hell Chloe lived through for the past sixteen years because of her? Have some decency! Stop crying and playing the victim. Don’t you realize you’re just twisting the knife in Chloe’s heart?” With that, Auntie Betty wiped a tear with her sleeve and pulled me into a tight hug. “You poor, sweet child. You always keep everything bottled up. Before, you had no one to love you, but now your real parents are here! Surely they won’t play favorites and side with an outsider over you, right? These are your real parents! If you have grievances, you speak up!” “Chloe’s parents, am I right?” The entire squad of aunties turned their piercing gazes onto the Sterling parents. Richard and Catherine Sterling smiled awkwardly. “Yes, of course. If you feel wronged, tell Mom and Dad.” Choked by Auntie Betty’s words, Serena couldn’t say a thing. All she could do was stare at the Sterlings with red, watery eyes, biting her lip. 3 Before I got into the Sterlings’ luxury SUV, Auntie Betty shoved a shopping bag into my arms, claiming it was the dance squad’s new uniform. But inside was a brand-new, trendy athletic outfit. I knew the aunties were worried I wouldn’t have decent clothes for my new school, so they all chipped in to buy this for me. I quietly thanked them, handed over the discounted eggs I had fought for at the supermarket, and securely locked my new bag of rice and cooking oil in the cabinet. Standing nearby, Grayson reminded me that there was no need to lock things up; I would never be coming back to this dump. I tilted my head, glancing at the Sterling parents and the younger brother huddled behind Grayson, whispering comforting words to Serena. I just smiled at him and didn’t say a word. Grayson looked back, then couldn’t help but say: “Chloe, Serena didn’t mean it. She really feels guilty toward you. She’s cried about it at home so many times…” “Ah, yes. Sure, sure.” I brushed him off, grabbed the new clothes the aunties gave me, slung my backpack over my shoulder, and slid straight into the car. In the car, I looked at my phone while the Sterlings looked at me. Auntie Martha sent me $500 on Venmo: [This is a little something from the aunties. Do not refuse it!] Auntie Betty messaged the group chat: [Chloe, honey, if you don’t feel comfortable over there, you just come right back home.] The other aunties chimed in with their agreement. Everyone in our neighborhood was working-class. Even though the aunties were retired, they lived on meager pensions of less than a thousand dollars a month. Women like Auntie Betty still worked at the farmer’s market just to make ends meet. Every dollar they spent on me over the years was saved by literally taking food out of their own mouths. Sending me such a huge amount of money now meant they had noticed my biological parents’ blatant favoritism and were terrified I would suffer in the Sterling house. “Chloe, honey… your outfit.” Catherine Sterling frowned at my bedazzled tracksuit, finally unable to hold her tongue. “From now on, you are a daughter of the Sterling family. Your attire and manners need to be appropriate.” “And at your age, you should be making friends with people your own age. Broaden your horizons, expand your social circles, instead of hanging around those… elderly women every day.” “In this regard, you can learn a lot from Serena. It’ll also help the two of you bond as sisters.” Catherine spoke with utmost sincerity, and Serena, of course, played along perfectly. She reached out to grab my hand, her attitude so artificially affectionate it gave me goosebumps. “Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll make sure to teach my sister everything.” “Sister, when we get home, I’ll pick out a few nice outfits for you from my closet. As for what you’re wearing, let’s just have the housekeeper throw it away.” “Yeah,” Mason, sitting next to Serena, chimed in. “I don’t even know what that garbage is on your back. It’s hideous. If you dress like that from now on, don’t tell anyone you’re a Sterling. It’s humiliating.” I paused, stopped typing a reply to my beloved aunties, and looked at the group with a bright smile. “But do you know why I’m always wearing these grandma tracksuits?” 4 “Because her mother—Brenda Miller—shredded all my clothes so I couldn’t go to school. And that wasn’t all. When the neighbors couldn’t stand watching me freeze and gave me their old hand-me-downs, she burned and cut those up, too.” “Later, those aunties you look down on came up with a plan. They recruited me into their dance crew as a helper. They told Brenda these tracksuits were the team’s official property. If she destroyed them, she’d have to pay the crew back in cash. Only then was I able to wear these tracksuits and leave the house like a normal person.” “Oh, right. Do you know why your mother tried to stop me from going to school?” I stared dead into Serena’s eyes. “It’s because during the middle school math decathlon, she realized you and I were testing at the same regional center. She suddenly realized that if I kept succeeding in school, the truth might be exposed.” “And speaking of… Auntie Martha and the others were too polite to say it earlier. Do you know what Brenda Miller did on the day of my final high school scholarship exams?” “She locked me in a room and let a creepy old drifter inside. She said she sold me to him for three hundred bucks, telling him he could take my virginity…” “Stop it!” Catherine’s face went deathly pale. She clutched her chest, looking as if she couldn’t bear to hear another word. The rest of the Sterlings looked sick to their stomachs, completely at a loss for words. “Heh.” I chuckled softly, as if oblivious to their expressions. “So you see, you really should be thanking my aunties. If they hadn’t smashed the door down, dragged me out of there, and personally driven me to the testing center, I would either be dead right now, or chained in a drifter’s basement, probably already a mother of three.” The entire car went dead silent. I curled my lips into a smile, leaned back against the leather seat, and closed my eyes to rest. Perhaps my words were a little too hardcore. As soon as we arrived at the Sterling estate, my biological parents used “urgent work” as an excuse and fled the scene. Unable to withstand my gaze, Serena and Mason quickly scurried away, too. Leaving only my eldest brother, Grayson, to take me to my prepared room—a converted guest bedroom on the first floor. I glanced up the stairs where Serena and Mason had vanished, and simply smiled at Grayson. Grayson instantly looked embarrassed. He quickly explained, “This is just temporary. I’ll have the empty suite on the second floor renovated for you, and then you can move upstairs.” Seeing that I just kept smiling without a word, his expression darkened. “Chloe, we know you suffered a lot, but all of that is in the past. Mom, Dad, and I will make it up to you. Why must you aggressively cling to the past and embarrass everyone like this?” “Embarrass?” I asked as I slowly paced around the room. “Did you not see Mom and Dad’s faces just now?” he said, his tone full of reprimand. “And not just them, but Serena. How do you expect her to live in this house after hearing the horrifying things you said?” I spotted a heavy, cylindrical wooden sculpture on the desk. My eyes lit up. I grabbed it and swung it hard right into Grayson’s back. Hit out of nowhere, Grayson stumbled forward, clutching his back and glaring at me in fury. “Are you insane?!” I weighed the wooden baton in my hand and smiled. “Does it hurt?” “What do you think?!” Grayson looked at me like I was a psychopath. “Chloe Miller, apologize right now!” “But I hit you seconds ago, so it’s already in the past. Besides, this strike is barely a tickle compared to what I’ve endured. Why must you aggressively cling to the past and embarrass me, brother?” I repeated his exact tone and words back to him. Grayson choked on his rage. I just waved my hand at him and shut the door in his face. “Bye, brother.”

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I am a patient in a vegetative state. Before I jumped off a building, I carried a specific title: the fake heiress. Once, the world revolved around me. But when the true heiress returned, I became the cuckoo that stole the dove’s nest. My dad guarded his assets against me, my mom asked me to move out, my older brother called me a thief, and my fiancé broke off our engagement entirely. My sins were grave, my crimes unforgivable. I had nothing left to compensate them with, except my one and only life. But I couldn’t even jump off a building right. Instead of dying, I turned myself into a vegetable. Lying in this bed, trapped in a living death, my still-conscious mind heard my former family weeping: “Harper, please wake up. We misunderstood you…” But what they didn’t know was that I would never wake up. How could someone who had abandoned every single ounce of their will to live ever wake up? 1 I lay in the hospital bed, completely paralyzed. I couldn’t do anything but breathe. My attempt to jump off the building had failed, leaving me in a vegetative state. But my hearing remained intact. I could hear every sound around me. I heard the quiet, hollow emptiness of my hospital room. Only the footsteps of doctors and nurses echoed back and forth. Oh, one girl did come to visit me. Her name was Chloe Kensington. I used to be Chloe Kensington, too. Once upon a time. Now, that name belonged to her, and I had changed mine to Harper Miller. After all, she was the real heiress, and I was the fake one. She had been taken by my biological parents and suffered through a life of hardship, while I stayed in the Kensington estate, enjoying a life of luxury and endless privilege. Yet now, lying in this hospital, she was the only one who came to see me. She sat by my bed, using a cotton swab to moisten my dry lips. “I’m going abroad. I never intended for this drama to turn into a tragedy. Harper, get better soon. Go home. I don’t blame you anymore…” I genuinely couldn’t move. If I could, I would have smiled a bitter smile. Even if she didn’t blame me, I could never go home. The people in that house were no longer the family who loved me deeply. Aside from me, no one even remembered that we once loved each other. The turning point happened one day when my brother ran into a girl who looked exactly like him. She even had the same signature red birthmark by her eye that ran in my father’s bloodline. Feeling an inexplicable connection, my brother brought her home. When my parents saw her, they were stunned. They looked at her, then looked at me—who bore little resemblance to anyone in the family—and fell into a deep silence. A few days later, a DNA test declared my true identity: a fake heiress. My biological parents’ last name was Miller. Years ago, my biological mother had given birth in the same hospital, on the exact same day as my adoptive mother. Before discharge, my adoptive dad had gotten drunk at a business dinner, and my adoptive mom was distracted talking to a cosmetic consultant about postpartum recovery. The Millers were busy with God knows what, and in the confusion, the babies were swapped. As the Kensington empire grew, I was spoiled and pampered. Meanwhile, the true daughter of the Kensington family struggled to make ends meet in the Miller household. I was raised as a delicate little princess. Chloe Kensington, on the other hand, fought her way up, eventually landing an internship at my dad’s company while finishing her studies. That was where my brother found her. The rest of the story was a cliché. The princess returned to the palace. And the wicked maid who stole her nest—who still shamelessly craved their affection—was humiliated until she was utterly broken and discarded. The only deviation from the script was that the wicked maid was supposed to be executed. Instead, I survived, turning into a vegetable, dragging out a miserable existence where I couldn’t even end my own life. This was perhaps an even crueler punishment. I heard Chloe say, “Harper, get well soon. Mom, Dad, and Carter are waiting for you at home.” She fell silent for a moment before adding, “By the way, Liam is going abroad with me. Did he come to see you? He probably told you, right?” I felt my breathing stall. It was as if my nervous system was intentionally trying to shut down my respiratory functions. Liam was my fiancé. If nothing had happened, we would have been officially engaged next month. The suffocation caused my heart rate to fluctuate wildly, and the monitor began to beep frantically. Chloe quickly ran to get the doctor. The doctor rushed in, checked the monitors, and sighed. “Given her current condition, whenever her bodily functions start to recover even slightly, it’s as if the patient is using her own subjective consciousness to cut off her own life force. She immediately starts failing again.” The doctor spoke solemnly. “You are her sister, right? Why haven’t your parents visited even once? Right now, I suspect the patient simply doesn’t want to wake up. If this continues, she will…” I heard Chloe freeze, suddenly panicking. “I’ll go home right now and tell my parents and brother!” She turned and ran. But I felt the urge to laugh. They wouldn’t come. They hated me to death. I was a thief. 2 I thought I knew my family well. No, wait—Chloe’s family. But facts proved me wrong. My mom—or rather, my adoptive mom—actually came. She sat next to me. I couldn’t see her, but I could hear her voice. “Doctor, haven’t we paid enough for her treatments? Why is she still deteriorating?” The doctor paused, explaining by the book: “Currently, the patient herself has lost the will to live. Some things cannot be solved by medicine. With many illnesses, once the patient gives up hope, their body quickly collapses. This psychological issue requires the cooperation of her family.” My mom sounded annoyed. I could hear it in her tone. “I know her better than anyone. She loves luxury, she loves going out and having fun. She is not the type to just give up on life.” The doctor was stunned again. After a moment, he asked hesitantly, “Do you still wish to continue her treatments? If not, you actually have the option to pull the plug…” My mom flared up. “Who said we don’t want to?! She is my daugh—” She stopped herself mid-sentence. After a long pause, she muttered, “She called me Mom for twenty years, at least.” The doctor then suggested, “In that case, try thinking about the books she used to like, the shows she watched, the celebrities she followed. Read to her, talk to her. Maybe it will strengthen her will to live.” My mom thought about it and called my brother. I heard my brother’s cheerful voice echo through the receiver. “Mom, I’m helping Liam plan his proposal right now. What’s up?” A proposal. If I could control my eyelids, I would have shed a tear. Holding it in was agonizing. Liam was going to propose to Chloe. My mom also froze for a second, then simply said, “Mm. Come home and bring the books Harper used to love to the hospital. I want to read to her.” My brother sounded deeply impatient. “That’s what doctors and nurses are for. Why are you stressing over this? As long as we pay the hospital bills, who cares?” My mom paused. She didn’t say anything else; she just told him to hurry up and bring the books before hanging up. I completely understood their behavior. In their eyes, I had stolen the true heiress’s life and ruined Chloe. I had ruined the Kensington family. In her second month back home, my mom discovered Chloe had depression. Chloe said she kept thinking about those years of grinding poverty. In those years, she was forced to do hard labor until her hands were covered in cracked, bleeding chilblains. Because of their poverty, the Millers grew increasingly violent, and she was relentlessly mocked at school. My mom broke down. Looking at Chloe’s scarred hands, she wept uncontrollably. I stood to the side, completely at a loss. I didn’t know what to say. I just felt a primal fear. Just the day before, I was the beloved princess of the Kensington family. How did I suddenly become a sinful imposter? Seeing me zone out, my mom looked at me with eyes colder than ice for the first time. “Shouldn’t you say something?” I stood there, frozen. I had always been the little girl who rolled around in my mother’s embrace. My mom used to say that even when I grew up, I would still be her baby. I even jokingly called myself a mama’s girl. But now, she was looking at me with absolute freezing hatred. She hadn’t even looked that cold when our maid was caught stealing. My face instantly flushed red. A lifetime of being pampered had blinded me to the impending crisis. I even stomped my foot and whined, “Mom, don’t look at me like that!” My mom gripped Chloe’s hand, gritting her teeth. “Then how should I look at you? Should I throw a parade to thank your biological parents?!” Your parents… I instantly fell silent. A profound, suffocating terror bloomed in my chest. The mother who had given me all her love, the person I was closest to in the world—she was gone. Even though, on the day they found Chloe, my mom had told me I was still her child and I just had a new sister… instinct told me things would not end up that way. Something absolutely terrifying was about to happen. 3 My brother arrived quickly with the books he had dug out of my old bookshelf. I was never a big reader, so there weren’t many books there. Growing up, my dad always told me that if studying was too hard, I shouldn’t bother. He said I was the Kensington princess, and the Kensington family didn’t need me to be a scholar. He told me to just eat, drink, and shop—seeing me happy was what gave him the motivation to make money. But when Chloe returned, my dad looked at her Ivy League resume and beamed with pride, giving himself a thumbs up. “As expected of Kensington blood. Good seed blooms beautifully no matter where you plant it.” After saying that, he glanced at me, a flash of realization crossing his eyes. That look of realization made me want to crawl into a hole. So, I was the bad seed. Chloe’s study was packed with books, and she truly loved reading. Meanwhile, my study still only had one set of fairy tales. I only loved reading fairy tales, even as I grew older. That set of fairy tales was bought for me by my brother when we were little. He had always been cold to me. It was the only gift he had ever given me. But because I loved following him around as a kid, I treasured that gift more than anything. He handed the book to my mom, coughed, and said somewhat awkwardly, “Why did she even keep such old, beat-up books?” I treasured that set of books deeply. Even when I finally moved out of the Kensington estate, I had wanted to take them with me. But my brother had watched me like a hawk, terrified I was trying to steal something valuable. In a fit of anger, I left them behind. My mom opened the fairy tale book. Her cold fingers hesitantly brushed against the withered, bony back of my hand, trying to soften her voice. “Harper, I’m going to read to you. Wake up soon.” The first story in the book was Snow White. My mom read a few sentences and stopped. “Did she really like this kind of stuff?” I had no way of telling her that I did. I had been reading it the night before I moved out, and my tears had even stained the pages. My brother, surprisingly, understood me. “She liked it. Look how worn the pages are.” My mom continued reading: “The little princess had skin as white as snow, hair as black as ebony, and lips as red as blood… She had a kind heart and loved playing with the animals in the forest…” As she read, my mom suddenly paused. As if remembering something. After a while, she forced a strained smile at my brother. “Doesn’t this sound exactly like Harper when she was little? Snow-white skin, dark hair, always loving little animals.” She suddenly remembered, “The stray cats near the house… no one’s fed them in a long time. Once Harper moved out, no one took care of them, right?” Someone did. Even after I moved out, I still came back to feed them, Mom. Because they were the only ones who still wanted to be near me. Even after I decided to die, I bought a massive amount of cat food and asked a volunteer I knew to keep feeding them. My brother didn’t say anything, seemingly lost in thought as well. After a moment, he reminded my mom, “Don’t mention stuff like this in front of Chloe. She’s getting engaged to Liam soon. She needs to be in a good mood.” My mom quickly agreed and kept reading. When she reached the part where Snow White gets a stepmother, she paused again. I think that was because I had a habit of writing my thoughts in the margins. I remembered what I wrote there when I was a kid: So scary. Thank God I have the best mom in the whole world who loves me so much. My mom got stuck reading that line. Thankfully, she only froze for a moment before pushing through, though her voice was noticeably unsteady. When she got to the part where the stepmother gives Snow White the poisoned apple, she stopped again. I remembered my margin note there, too: Why did she hate Snow White so much? She even called her Mom! After being called Mom for so many years, didn’t her heart soften even a little bit? Snow White didn’t know anything, she just treated her like a real mother! I remembered that note so clearly because I didn’t write it when I was a kid. I wrote it right before I left the house. Every word was written through tears, leaving deep indentations on the paper. My mom suddenly started coughing violently. It was a terrifying, chest-rattling cough that startled my brother. He snatched the book from her hands. “Mom, you should go home. The smell in here is awful. Don’t choke on it.” My mom kept coughing and ignored him. He added, “Chloe is getting engaged. Go back and help her plan it. It’s her first time getting engaged; she doesn’t know what to do.” My mom finally stopped coughing. She agreed, turned to leave, and told my brother as she walked out, “You keep reading to Harper. Read a few more stories.” My brother sounded impatient. “I know.” Right then, the doctor walked in and looked surprised. “You’re leaving so soon? It’s only been ten minutes.” My mom brushed it off. “Something came up at home. Her brother will stay with her.” She paused, then asked hesitantly, “Doctor, is it really true that she is consciously choosing not to live?” The doctor was firm. “Of course. Let’s not forget how she ended up in a vegetative state in the first place.” My mom fell silent. But I heard my brother scoff. “She’s so greedy and terrified of dying. There’s no way. She was probably just trying to scare me into giving her money and took it too far.” 3 A month before I jumped, I did ask my brother for money. My biological father, Mr. Miller, was hospitalized and they couldn’t afford the medical bills. They couldn’t reach Chloe because she was on a business trip, so they cautiously came to me, asking if they could borrow some money. But I had just moved out of the Kensington estate. To prove that I wasn’t greedy and wasn’t trying to fight Chloe for the inheritance, I had returned every single cent I had to my brother when I left. My brother had drawled lazily, “I’ll hold onto it for you. Someone as lazy and spoiled as you will come crawling back for it eventually.” What did I say back then? I said I had hands and feet. Even if I wasn’t as smart as Chloe, finding a job to feed just myself wouldn’t be a problem. My brother had watched me leave with a cold sneer. I found a job as a cashier. It was enough to support myself, but I had zero savings to pay the massive medical bill the Millers needed. Left with no other choice, I called my brother, hoping to borrow a little bit from the money I had given back to him—just enough to cover the hospital fees. But the moment he heard I was asking for money, he didn’t even let me finish. He burst into mocking laughter. “What happened to your backbone? Done pretending?” Then he said he was in a meeting and too busy to deal with me. He told me to wait until he had free time, and hung up the phone. I lowered my head and smiled bitterly. I really had some nerve. I wasn’t a Kensington daughter anymore, yet I was still eyeing my old allowance. I should have returned everything to the Kensingtons. I took a deep breath and downloaded a payday loan app. I had to pay for their hospital bills somehow. I contacted the loan agent, and they told me to come in for an in-person interview on Monday. I sighed, agreed, hung up the phone, and waited for Monday to take out the first loan of my life. But on Sunday, Chloe came back. Hearing that her adoptive father was hospitalized, Chloe went to the Kensingtons and begged them for help, eventually paying off the medical bills. When Mrs. Miller called to tell me, I let out a massive sigh of relief. After all, payday loans were predatory and dangerous. If I fell into a debt trap, it could take years to recover. Who wouldn’t be terrified to borrow from them? But when Mrs. Miller heard me sigh in relief, she fell into a long silence. After a while, she said coldly, “A person who doesn’t even show filial piety to the people who gave her life is worse than an animal.” I froze. I wasn’t being unfilial. I was just waiting until Monday for the loan interview. But Mrs. Miller didn’t wait for my explanation. She hung up. I called back, but she didn’t answer. From that day on, it felt like my spirit had been completely drained. Just getting out of bed in the morning took a monumental amount of effort. Opening the curtains and washing my face felt like impossible, monumental tasks. I had to lie in bed for hours just to mentally prepare myself to stand up. I loved keeping the curtains drawn, lying in the dark doing absolutely nothing. Just lying there, crying pointlessly until I fell asleep. At the time, I thought I was just sad and would get over it soon. I didn’t know it was depression. By the time I found out, it was already severe. Even now, trapped as a vegetable, the severe depression still controlled me, draining me of all my will to live. Even today, when my brother actually took the time to read to me—something I wouldn’t have dared dream of when I was a kid—it didn’t make things any better. My brother held the worn fairy tale book, flipped to The Ugly Duckling, and read in a slow, detached voice: “The ugly duckling finally realized that he was a swan, unlike the ducks on the farm.” His voice was cold but pleasant. But when he read that line, the irony was deafening. If I could open my eyes right now, I would definitely see the mocking sneer on his handsome face. He murmured softly, “A swan is a swan. Even if it’s placed among ducks, it will eventually return to the swan lake.” He came alone today. I heard him on the phone earlier; it seemed my mom forced him to come. He was highly displeased and spoke with obvious irritation. He kept reading, hitting the exact spot where I had written another margin note: But who put the swan egg in the duck pile? That’s so mean! My brother fell into a long silence. After a while, he suddenly reached out and touched my face. The movement was so abrupt that if I wasn’t covered in tubes, I would have jumped out of my skin. My brother touching my face? The sun must have risen in the west. Looking back carefully, my brother wasn’t always completely cold to me. I always felt like he hated making eye contact with me. If our eyes met, he would look away. This started when we were very young. When I was a kid, I thought my brother hated me so much he couldn’t even stand the sight of me. I clung to him, followed him everywhere, and tried to please him, but nothing worked. It wasn’t until he was an adult and I was fifteen. My parents came home late, and there was a massive thunderstorm. I was terrified and crying uncontrollably. My brother sighed, came into my room to comfort me, patted my back until I fell asleep, and in my half-asleep haze, just like today… he touched my face. But after that night, he seemed to hate me even more. Just like today. After finishing The Ugly Duckling, he abruptly stood up, kicked his chair back, and hurried out of the room. If I wasn’t a vegetable, I would have thought he was fleeing in a panic. When he reached the door, his footsteps paused. I heard him take a deep breath, as if he wanted to say something, but ultimately he stayed silent. He closed the door. 4 Sometimes I really couldn’t understand why my brother hated me so much. When I was little, I followed his every footstep. When I grew up, I was gentle and obedient to him, but I could never warm his heart. He was so gentle with everyone else, but to me, he was as cold as ice. When Chloe returned, I didn’t feel threatened at first. I just thought I had gained an older sister. I saw how much my brother adored her. He bought her gifts constantly—clothes, bags, shoes, jewelry, everything. Meanwhile, growing up, all I ever got from him was a single fairy tale book. I thought he just admired her driven, career-oriented personality. I wanted my brother to like me too. So I told my dad I wanted to intern at the Kensington company, starting from the bottom in sales. I wanted to work my way up and become as brilliant as Chloe. Not for any other reason—just so my brother would look at me a little longer. I worked so hard. I arrived early, stayed late, worked overtime every day, and learned with relentless enthusiasm. The employees and managers knew I was the Kensington daughter. Seeing how hardworking, humble, and sweet I was, they often invited me out to their gatherings. I thought doing this would make my brother happy. But I never expected that when he saw me having dinner with my coworkers after a shift, he would glare at me with a dark expression and drive away. When I got home, he was talking to my dad. When my dad saw me, his expression changed, flashing with a sudden, sharp vigilance. My dad was a brilliant businessman—alert, sharp, and naturally distrustful of others. He often looked at people that way. But he had never, ever looked at me like that. That day, he scrutinized me with that look for a long time. He said, “Your brother said you’re doing really well at the company? Better than Chloe?” I was completely confused but nodded. “Um, I guess it’s going okay. Chloe is executive material, so naturally she doesn’t need to blend in with the regular staff.” I was telling the truth. Chloe was brilliant. She was destined to manage the company alongside my brother, so of course she wouldn’t be joking around and eating street food with the regular employees like I did. My dad nodded, said nothing else, and told me to go upstairs and rest. As I walked up the stairs, I could feel his eyes burning into my back. But I had had a few drinks, so I didn’t realize what my dad was actually thinking. It wasn’t until the next morning. I arrived at the office early and overheard my manager and an assistant whispering in the bathroom stalls: “Don’t let Harper touch any of the important documents.” “Why?” “Orders from above. Don’t ask questions. Now that the true heiress is back, they obviously have to guard against the imposter trying to steal the inheritance.” Sitting in the stall, my hands suddenly turned freezing cold. Cold all the way to my fingertips. I waited until the manager left before opening the stall door and stepping out. My face was covered in tears. I wrote my resignation letter that very day and left the Kensington company. When my brother found out, he sneered and called me a useless piece of trash that couldn’t be molded into anything. I admitted he was right. In this world, besides geniuses like him and Chloe, there are ordinary people, and even idiots like me. But even idiots have feelings. Even idiots get heartbroken. I packed up my desk and walked out of the building, wandering aimlessly down the street. When I was younger, my dad used to take me everywhere, calling me the apple of his eye. He told me girls didn’t need to study too hard, that living a simple, happy life was enough. He said he would protect me before I got married, and my husband would protect me after. Whenever I stayed up even thirty minutes late studying for exams, he would get so upset, forbidding me from reading and telling me my only job was to be happy. I was terrified and lost. Had the father who loved me so much vanished forever? Had all his love transferred to Chloe, leaving absolutely nothing for me? I was so naive back then. I didn’t believe it. I didn’t believe that over twenty years of love could vanish overnight. I called my dad, still whining playfully like I always did: “Dad, you still love me, right?” My dad hesitated for a moment before telling me in a flat, emotionless voice: “Harper, if you need money, I can give you money. When I’m gone, your brother will provide for you too. But don’t covet things that aren’t yours. What isn’t yours will never be yours.” I froze. I didn’t understand what he was saying. No, it wasn’t that I didn’t understand. I was just terrified to understand. The harsh autumn wind pierced through my bones, chilling me to the core. I quietly agreed and hung up the phone. I just wanted a little bit of love. I didn’t want anything else. But who would believe me?

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When the fire alarm blared, I was taking a bath. I was sobbing and screaming at the firefighter about to break the door down: “I’m not even married yet! I’d rather die in here than go out like this!” “Come out! I’ll marry you!” 1 When the fire alarm went off, I was soaking in the tub, happily scrolling through TikTok, practically drooling over a few firefighters who had recently gone viral. “Sir, my heart is on fire—” Single since birth, twenty-four years running, I thought my heart was as cold as the meat cleaver at the local butcher shop. I never imagined that just by scrolling through TikTok, I’d fall in love with four men simultaneously. No, wait. I fell in love with one, and really liked the other three. The Captain, in his early thirties, named Carter Sterling, had striking eyebrows and bright eyes. He was absolutely my type. I frantically tapped the heart icon. “Hubby, when are you coming to put out my fire?” Right after I commented, I realized something was wrong. There was a commotion downstairs, and it was loud outside my apartment door too. Crackle, pop, sizzle. It sounded like things burning, and thick smoke was seeping in under the door. Panic set in. I jumped up and rushed to the bathroom window. Down below, people were frantically waving their arms at me. “Fire! Huge fire! Get out!” Oh my god. As soon as my hand touched the bathroom doorknob, I yanked it back. It was scorching hot. I grabbed a wet towel and wrapped it around the handle, only to realize the door was jammed. Thankfully, all those firefighter TikToks hadn’t been a complete waste of time. I forced myself to calm down, quickly soaked all the towels in the bathroom, and jammed them into the crack under the door. Just as I finished, I heard shouting from the hallway. “Is anyone in there?!” I nodded frantically, even though they couldn’t see me. “I’m here!” “Stand back! We’re coming in!” We? Wait, how many of them were there? I looked down at my naked body, covered my chest, and let out a shriek. Oh my god, this is so embarrassing! Multiple firefighters?! They’re going to see everything! I burst into tears. “I haven’t even gotten married yet! No! I’d rather die in here than go out like this!” “Come out! I’ll marry you!” A deeply resonant, magnetic voice replied. I froze. I was just spewing nonsense out of pure panic and embarrassment. I never expected someone on the other side to actually agree. Snapping back to reality, I glanced in the mirror. Fair skin, pretty face, long legs, tiny waist. Heh, look on the bright side. At least I have a great body. I backed against the far wall and covered my chest. No, wait, covered my lower half. No, that wasn’t right either. After a second of thought, I just slapped both hands over my face. “Come in!” CRASH! The door shattered. A tall, broad-shouldered figure stood in the doorway, flames roaring behind him. He had a clean buzz cut, his sharp features shadowed, looking like a literal god descending from the heavens. My eyes went wide. “Hubby?” Wait, no. Carter Sterling?! Did God hear my prayers and deliver Carter directly to me? Carter draped a fire blanket over me and scooped me up into his arms. I clung tightly to his neck, clapping my other hand over my mouth, terrified I might actually laugh out loud. Carter thought I was crying. He comforted me: “Don’t be scared. I’ve got you.” Me: “Sob, sob… Hubby, I was so scared.” Carter: … 2 When we left the fire station, I was still wearing Carter’s oversized t-shirt. After taking my statement, Carter offered to drive me home. “Remember to unplug your hairdryer after you use it from now on. Understand?” I nodded obediently. “Let’s go. I’ll take you home. Do you have a place to stay tonight?” After I graduated college, my mom bought me an apartment of my own. It was in the same complex as hers, even in the same building. So of course I had a place to stay. I shook my head. “I have nowhere to go, Captain Sterling. My ID burned up in the fire too, so I can’t even check into a hotel.” Carter frowned. “Fine. We’ll go to my friend’s place. You can replace your ID tomorrow and contact your family.” “Also, um, Chloe… What I said earlier was just an emergency tactic to get you out. Don’t take it seriously.” After dropping that bomb, Carter clamped his mouth shut, adopting a strictly professional demeanor. He ignored me for the rest of the car ride. What does that mean? He’s backing out?! I was caught completely off guard by his sudden change in attitude. Carter drove me to a nearby apartment complex, unlocked a door with his key, and looked at me coldly. “This is my girlfriend’s place. She’ll take care of you.” Girlfriend?! Thunderbolt! Lightning strike! I, Chloe Thorne, had been in a relationship for exactly one hour, and now I was dumped! A young woman popped out from inside the apartment. She looked about my age, with a delicate, heart-shaped face and big eyes. She was just as pretty as me. I was instantly bitter. “Big brother—who is this?” Hearing that title, I felt even more bitter. My crush was out here flaunting his relationship right in my face. I had no chance. Carter pulled her aside and whispered something to her. A minute later, his “girlfriend” walked up to me and warmly pulled me inside. “You’re a year older than me, right? Just call me Mia.” I followed Mia inside. The apartment had a cozy, rustic, minimalist vibe, with an entire wall in the living room dedicated to bookshelves. It felt very clean. Mia poured me some tea and then rummaged through her drawers to find me some pajamas. She was so nice; I felt incredibly guilty. Such a sweet girl, and I was plotting to steal her boyfriend. I was a monster. A moment later, Mia’s stomach gave a loud, rumbling growl. She looked at me awkwardly. “Are you hungry? Should we order some UberEats?” I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was 8:30 PM. Wasn’t it a bit early for a midnight snack? Mia scratched her head. “I was busy studying, so I didn’t eat dinner.” I immediately rolled up my sleeves. “Takeout isn’t nutritious enough. Let me cook for you!” To repay him for saving my life, I’ll repay his girlfriend! 3 By the end of the meal, the way Mia looked at me had completely changed. “Chloe, seriously, the pasta you made is so, so, so good! Oh my god. Whoever marries you is going to be the luckiest person on earth.” I chuckled awkwardly. “It’s just pasta. Tomorrow I’ll go buy some groceries and make you a real feast.” After eating, Mia voluntarily washed the dishes, then hauled a massive stack of practice exams to the desk, sighing heavily as she started working. I leaned over curiously. “Are you studying for grad school entrance exams?” Mia nodded. “Yeah. It’s so competitive right now. I’ve failed two years in a row. Sigh… if I just had half my sister’s IQ, I’d be fine.” I flipped through the stack of textbooks on the desk and was surprised to realize she was studying my exact major. “Which school are you aiming for?” “Columbia.” “Why not NYU? Professor Roberts there is an absolute authority in this field.” Mia shot me a helpless look. “That’s Professor Roberts! Everyone says he’s insanely strict and demands perfection. He’s terrifying. I wouldn’t even dare to dream about his program.” Coincidentally, Professor Roberts was my advisor, and we had a great relationship. I offered to introduce her to him. She jumped up in pure excitement. “Chloe, are you getting your Master’s with Professor Roberts too?!” I shook my head. “No, I’m his PhD student.” “What?! PhD?!” Mia let out a groundhog-level shriek. “You’re only a year older than me, and you’re a PhD candidate?! And I can’t even pass the entrance exam for a Master’s program?! What kind of garbage am I?!” We sat by the desk chatting, and I helped tutor her through some of her practice tests. By the end of it, the look in Mia’s eyes was pure hero-worship. The next day at lunch, after devouring the feast I cooked, Mia looked at me and shook her head in awe. “A PhD who can cook like a Michelin-star chef. What kind of fairy descended from heaven are you?” Then, she took a deep breath and grabbed my hands eagerly. “Chloe, do you like my brother? Do you like Carter?” My face instantly flushed beet red. Under her aggressive, interrogating stare, I lowered my head in shame. “I’m so sorry, Mia. I was just attracted to his looks. But now we’re friends, and I swear I won’t have any inappropriate thoughts about him anymore.” “No way! You can’t give up that easily!” Mia lunged forward and hugged my arm. “My name is Mia Sterling. Carter is my actual, biological older brother! Sister-in-law!” 4 I felt like, empowered by love, I was already being pretty bold. But I never imagined Mia was even bolder. She dragged me straight to the fire station. “I need to speak to the Chief. I want to file a formal complaint against Carter Sterling for misconduct.” Carter’s face was rigid. “Mia, what kind of tantrum is this?” Mia didn’t even look at him. The two of us marched into the Chief’s office. Mia viciously pinched my thigh. I winced in pain, and my eyes instantly welled up with tears. “Chief, this is my sister-in-law. My brother promised to marry her, and now he’s backing out. You have to give us justice.” The Chief, a stern, middle-aged man, looked at us in surprise. “Is that so? Where is Carter? Tell him to get in here.” When Carter arrived, Mia launched a preemptive strike. “Carter, I’m asking you: did you promise to marry her?” Carter looked at me coldly and gave a stiff, expressionless nod. “Let me ask you again: have the two of you… seen each other without anything to hide? Did you see her completely naked?” Carter’s eyebrow twitched. My face burned as red as a tomato. Mia pinched me again, so I looked up at Carter pitifully. “Say something—” Meeting the Chief’s stern gaze, Carter gave a helpless nod and opened his mouth to explain. “Chief—my brother is a Captain! He and my sister-in-law have known each other for years. Our families already know about them! And now he’s abandoning her! It sets a terrible example!” “Alright, I understand the situation. You girls step outside for a minute. I’m going to have a serious talk with Carter.” Mia pulled me out of the office and gave me a triumphant, smug grin. “Sister-in-law, it’s a done deal. Just relax!” Having a future sister-in-law on your side isn’t just an assist; it’s the main carry! After waiting outside the office for half an hour, Carter emerged. The three of us walked home together, Carter keeping a stony silence the entire way. Once we got to the apartment, he pulled me into his bedroom. Behind us, Mia flashed me a “go get ’em” hand gesture. Carter stood in front of me, a good head and a half taller. His gaze slowly, inch by inch, swept over me. I felt like I was being stripped naked all over again. I was incredibly uncomfortable. Carter took a step forward, pinning me against the door. He rested one hand on the doorframe, leaning down right next to my ear. His deep, magnetic, raspy voice sent shivers down my spine. “When will your new ID arrive?” His voice was so incredible, I felt like my ears were getting pregnant. My legs turned to jelly, and I leaned heavily against the door, too afraid to look up. “Next week.” “Mm. Then make an appointment. We’ll go to City Hall next Friday to get the marriage license.” 5 “What? Marriage license?” I snapped my head up in shock. I felt like the Sterling family had a few screws loose. Mia sold out her own biological brother over a plate of pasta. Carter had seen me exactly twice, and now he was saying we should get a marriage license. I was just a fangirl, not an idiot! Yes, I wanted a sweet romance with a handsome guy, but I absolutely never thought about getting married this fast. “Scared? Hmm?” Carter raised an eyebrow at me. The corner of his mouth ticked up slightly, giving him a slightly wicked, devastatingly handsome look. I felt like I had just lost half my life. “Chloe Thorne, I said I would take responsibility. If you’re the one who doesn’t want to marry me now, then—” “I’ll marry you!” I reached out, grabbed the hem of his shirt, and nodded firmly. “I will.” Carter froze. From outside the door, Mia’s cheering erupted. “Woohoo! Wedding! Wedding! AHHHH I’m getting a sister-in-law!” Carter’s face darkened again. He opened the door and glared at Mia, who was jumping up and down in excitement. Mia glared right back, put her hands on her hips, and tilted her chin up. “What are you looking at? You! Go to the grocery store. My sister-in-law and I are going to make lunch later.” After Carter left, Mia rushed over, hugged my arm, and laughed triumphantly. “Sister-in-law, you really live up to that PhD! Your IQ is off the charts. My brother was just trying to scare you into backing down, and you saw right through it! You called his bluff and trapped him so he can’t make any more excuses! Hahaha, you’re amazing!” I’m so sorry, Mia. I was just genuinely blinded by his looks. I laughed guiltily. When Carter came back with the groceries, Mia shoved the two of us into the kitchen. “Carter, sister-in-law’s cooking is incredible. You be her sous-chef.” My face turned bright red. I clumsily fumbled with my apron. Carter proactively walked over to tie the strings for me. His breath ghosted over my neck, hot and tingling. My mind went completely blank. I couldn’t think. “Chloe Thorne, are you really sure about this?” “Mm-hmm! (Honestly, I didn’t hear a word he said.)” Carter stopped talking. He stood quietly beside me, washing and prepping the vegetables. “Carter, could you grab the peppercorns from the top shelf for me? I can’t reach.” Carter was in the middle of marinating chicken wings, one hand covered in sauce. Hearing me, he walked over, didn’t even think twice, bent down slightly, wrapped his clean arm around the back of my legs, and effortlessly lifted me up. After I grabbed the peppercorns, he slowly loosened his grip, letting me slide back down to the floor. His hand slid upward, naturally landing around my waist. He was standing right behind me, his chest pressed flush against my back. Pinned against the kitchen counter by him, my face was red enough to boil an egg. “Carter, Serena just called and said she’s coming back— YOU! Ah! I didn’t see anything! Continue, continue!” Mia shrieked and ran away. Carter let go of me, gave a low cough, and walked back to the sink to wash his hands. “Um, actually, I meant for you to just grab them for me—” I blushed furiously. Carter stood with his back to me at the sink, his voice perfectly calm. “Sorry. Habit from fire academy training. I wasn’t trying to take advantage of you.” His back was stiff, and both his ears were bright red. Looking at his broad shoulders, I suddenly thought he was kind of cute.

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In my seventh year with the East Coast elite heir, he had another girl by his side. A friend teasingly asked him why he swapped her out. He smiled thinly. “Do I need a reason to want or not want a woman?” I turned and walked away, never to appear in his world again. A long time later, he cornered me in a dressing room, giving me no room to escape. His eyes were shadowed. “Still not planning to come back?” I smiled politely and raised my ring finger, showing off the diamond. “Sorry, you’re too late.” 1 The next time I saw Vance, it was at a charity auction. To win the emerald bracelet “Heart’s Desire,” I kept raising my paddle. Just as I was about to secure it for two million dollars, a cold, lazy male voice rang out. “Ten million.” My heart sank heavily, and I turned my head stiffly. The shadowed crowd separated us, and I only caught a glimpse of his rugged profile. His chiseled jawline cast a faint shadow, and the Adam’s apple on his neck radiated a silent, arrogant sex appeal in the dim light. Two years unseen, and he didn’t look like he had changed much. Yet, something felt different. The faint curve of his lips still carried that careless, lazy tune. But the aura around him felt exceptionally cold and gloomy. “What is Vance playing at?” My best friend, Stella, leaned over, her tone dissatisfied. “He’s deliberately bidding against you, isn’t he?” I calmly withdrew my gaze. “Not necessarily.” Spending ten million to buy a moment of pleasure was just a regular Tuesday for someone like Vance. “But he knows exactly how important that bracelet is to you.” Yes, he knew. I unconsciously tasted bitterness in my mouth. “So what?” “Bid higher, we have to win it.” Stella was fuming. “Whatever the cost, consider it my gift to you.” I forced a laugh. “Forget it.” When this man sets his sights on something, he always gets it. Fighting him for it meant zero chance of winning. At the banquet following the auction, a young woman came over to greet me, holding a glass of champagne. She was incredibly young, looking fresh enough to pinch water from, delicate and blooming. Like me at twenty. Even the tiny teardrop mole under her left eye was identical to mine. She smiled sweetly. “Chloe, I’ve always watched your movies. I love you so much, and I finally get to meet you in person today.” I saw her raised hand, and on her pale, slender wrist rested the glowing, luxurious bracelet. It was “Heart’s Desire,” the one Vance had just bought. Noticing my gaze, she feigned shyness. “My boyfriend gave it to me.” 2 She purposely turned and pointed not far away. I followed her gaze. Amidst the glamorous crowd, the noble man, as if sensing something, cast an attentive look her way. The girl’s face flushed with a charming pink, and she exchanged a deeply affectionate look with him across the room. No matter how I looked at this scene, it felt abrupt. “Chloe, I saw you raise your paddle several times. Is this bracelet really important to you?” There was a hint of apology in her bright smile. “I told him to let you have it, but he insisted on giving it to me. It makes me feel quite bad.” I looked at her with amusement, not saying a word. She bit her lower lip uneasily. “Are you very disappointed?” “What’s it to you?” Stella couldn’t hold back anymore. “Are you and my Chloe close? Stop acting out.” Perhaps she didn’t expect Stella to be so blunt, and she bit her lip, looking genuinely wronged. Vance saw it, and a shadow fell over his eyes. I suddenly felt a heaviness in my chest, unable to explain why. “Your boyfriend is waiting for you.” Whatever intentions this girl had, I didn’t want to explore them at all. She didn’t say anything else, quickly walking through the crowd to take Vance’s arm. From beginning to end, Vance hadn’t looked at me directly. His gaze fell on the bracelet on the girl’s wrist, and then, inexplicably, he suddenly brushed her hand away. With a cold face, he left the banquet hall. “Vance, that bastard.” Stella gritted her teeth in anger. “You were with him for so many years, and he never went public. Now he’s parading around with Blair! “And outbidding you for something you wanted just to please her, that’s too much.” I took a sip of champagne, suppressing the dark tide in my heart. Throwing away a fortune to win a beauty’s smile—Vance had done that for me, too. Now that he was doing it for another girl, it wasn’t surprising. “It’s nothing.” “Bullshit.” Stella sneered. “Can’t you see? Blair is just here to show off, deliberately trying to disgust you. “Covered in the sour stench of a small-minded nobody, pretending to be a pure, innocent little flower.” I drained the wine in my glass. “Don’t be angry, it’s not worth it.” “I’m just furious. You and Vance were together for so long, and he purposely found a plaything that looks so much like you to disgust people. He’s really a piece of trash.” 3 These past two years, I had been calm enough. But Stella’s words still brutally tore open a gash in those memories. I seemed to be standing in front of that scene from two years ago again. At that time, after a month-long cold war with Vance, I planned to soften up. On a winter night with the first snow, I came out of the hospital and went straight to Vance’s private club to find him. Inside the private room, it was a scene of debauchery. I pushed the door open. Just in time to hear someone teasingly ask Vance, “Where’s Chloe? Why the change of personnel?” Vance leaned lazily against the sofa. A girl with a pure, clean look held a lighter, her tender fingertips seemingly unintentionally brushing against his hard jawline—green and secretly provocative—as she lit the white cigarette between his lips. As the thin smoke rose, he raised an eyebrow and looked toward the door, glancing at me carelessly. His gaze didn’t linger for a second, and his words were arrogantly and dismissively lazy: “Do I need a reason to want or not want a woman?” I don’t know how I left. On the street late at night, the heavy snow didn’t stop, and the cold wind cut to the bone. The chill in my heart swept through my limbs, and I felt as if I were soaking in an icy lake, the biting cold making it hard to breathe. Vance’s best friend, Hayes, chased after me. “Sister-in-law, don’t be mad. Vance had too much to drink, he’s just joking.” My tone was quite flat: “Is he?” “Really.” He carefully observed my face and explained, “That girl is just a little model, ignorant and lacks boundaries. Vance didn’t do anything.” “Oh.” “Sister-in-law, you…” Seeing me so calm, he actually felt a bit scared. “Let’s go back inside first, it’s cold out here.” I looked quietly across the street, unmoving. When that suffocating feeling gradually dissipated, something in my chest was drawn out along with it. “No.” I shook my head slightly, a faint smile appearing on my lips. “Actually, he’s right.” The eldest grandson of the top Old Money elite family on the East Coast, an unruly heir, surrounded by stars like the moon, so noble that people dared not look him directly in the eye. A playboy like Vance naturally had the capital to look down on everything. Young, frivolous, and reckless, the girls passing by him were like flowing water. No matter how much they poured out their love, he never showed true feelings. To want a woman, or not want one, he never needed a reason. “I’m leaving.” The snow was falling harder, and I got in the car to leave. Hayes wouldn’t give up and chased after me: “Sister-in-law.” I waved my hand without looking back: “Goodbye.” Saying goodbye to Hayes, saying goodbye to Vance. The car drove into the world of ice and snow. Even though the heater was on full blast, I was still shivering from the cold. I curled my body up, burying my head in my knees, just to catch a little warmth. I remembered that, in the beginning, I had avoided Vance like the plague too. How did we end up entangled for seven years? It was hard to explain, and I didn’t dare look back and think about it. Those long seven years, our love and hate were too distinct. When things were good, we were deeply in love and inseparable; when we fought, the words that stabbed each other’s hearts were ruthless and bitter. How many times we bickered, broke up, and got back together was hard to count. Getting to this point, our fate seemed to have run its course. 4 I was decent enough to withdraw from his world without making a fuss. I didn’t even remember what the girl next to him looked like. Only later, in a foreign country, did someone occasionally pass on news about him. I heard that the girl sent to his side looked like me and was named Blair. Vance pampered her in every possible way, chauffeuring her around, generously giving her houses and cars, and throwing countless resources to pave her way in the entertainment industry. The two years I disappeared from the screen without a trace were the two years Blair’s career took off. Because she looked so much like me and had astonishing resources, the path she took was exactly the same as mine. She even earned the nickname “Little Chloe.” Inside and outside the circle, everyone said that it wouldn’t be long before Blair completely replaced my position in the entertainment industry. I thought with amusement, replacing my position—it wasn’t just in the entertainment industry. The man, too. “Chloe, what are you thinking about?” Stella waved her hand in front of my eyes. I snapped back to reality. “Nothing, just probably had too much to drink, a bit dizzy. “Let’s go, let’s go home.” Saying goodbye to Stella, I returned to my door. I took a deep breath before pushing the door open. The lights were off inside, and it was quiet. Just as I was about to breathe a sigh of relief, the lights suddenly blazed. The woman sitting in the wheelchair didn’t know how long she had been waiting. Full of impatience, she opened her palm toward me. “The bracelet.” I subconsciously clenched my hand, my nails digging into my palm. “Mom, I didn’t get it.” She was stunned for a moment, then burst into a rage. “Useless trash.” The next second, she grabbed whatever was on the table and threw it at me. A thermos hit my collarbone, a dull, aching pain. I stood there calmly, listening to her roar in the night: “I told you, no matter how much it costs, you have to get it back. Are you reluctant to spend the money? “Or do you not have me, your mother, in your eyes at all, so you didn’t take my words seriously?” “Neither.” How should I explain it to her? Tell her I couldn’t outbid Vance? I couldn’t say it, and I didn’t want to. She excitedly beat the armrests of her wheelchair. “Then why?” “Mom, let’s just forget about it.” “Shut up.” She became even more irritable, her body rocking frantically. “If you can’t get the bracelet, then go die.” The steps I wanted to take to comfort her stopped weakly. She cursed for a long time, and I didn’t make another sound. With the heavy slamming of that door, the world finally quieted down. I dragged my heavy steps up to the third floor and sat down in front of the dark French windows. The city lights in the distance stretched for miles, like a sea of burning stars in the dark sky. I thought of the bracelet on Blair’s wrist, and I thought of Vance. At this moment, the pain on my collarbone seemed to spread to the bottom of my heart. An inexplicable emotion swallowed me along with the darkness. My phone rang abruptly. I answered it, but no one spoke for a long time. The sound of the wind tore through the receiver, and the person’s breathing was blurred by the wind. My heart trembled, and Vance’s face floated in my mind. It’s him, it must be. His silence was as intriguing as this call. I thought, he was waiting for me to speak first. Waiting for me to beg him. Two people who had possessed each other in negative distance for seven years couldn’t have a superficial understanding of each other. However, for an arrogant playboy like Vance to make this call, he must have been extremely unwilling. If I didn’t speak again, he would probably get furious. I moved the phone away from my ear and threw it aside. Let him be furious. It’s better if he’s furious. With enough patience, I took out a cigarette, the lighter clicking open and shut as I lit it. I don’t know which of Vance’s nerves was triggered, but the next second, the call was disconnected. This couldn’t help but remind me of some old romantic affairs. One night after his post-coital cigarette, on a whim, I wanted to taste it, so I took the cigarette from his lips and took a drag. Inexperienced, I took a hard drag, immediately choked, coughing repeatedly, my eyes turning red. Vance laughed gloatingly. “Serves you right.” Then, with thin smoke on his lips, he kissed my lips recklessly, lingering and grinding. “Is tasting it like this still not enough?” I guessed Vance probably thought of it too. How good we were in the past, how embarrassing it is now. 5 I didn’t go begging Vance, but a few days later, I received “Heart’s Desire,” which he had someone send over. “No, is he crazy?” Stella was greatly puzzled. “Snatching it from you to give to his little lover, and then taking it back to give to you. Isn’t this deliberately disgusting?” I didn’t want to guess Vance’s psychology; I just felt tired. Closing the box, I returned the item exactly as it came. “You really don’t want it?” Stella felt a bit reluctant to part with it instead. “Yeah.” She was silent for a moment, then said, “I think he’s trying to soften up a bit. If you don’t appreciate it, he’ll explode.” I laughed. “There is no such thing as softening up in his world.” “I don’t think so.” Stella disagreed. “Vance has indeed done a lot of ridiculous things, but I think he doesn’t want to break up with you; he’s just too proud.” I stroked my empty ring finger; a simple band used to sit here. Relieved, I said softly, “Two years ago, he and I broke up.” A few nights later, the recording of a show ended. On the way home, I fell asleep groggily. When I woke up, I was already at my door. There was already a chill in the late autumn wind. I barely looked up and caught a glimpse of that incredibly expensive supercar and the figure standing in the night. I don’t know how long he had been there, slightly hunched over, his fingers flicking a lighter on and off. The flickering light and shadow drifted over his eyebrows, masking his usual reckless arrogance, making him look extremely cold and deep. And dangerous. My footsteps hesitated, and he lazily lifted his eyes to look over at this moment. The night was heavy, and I couldn’t see the emotions in his eyes clearly, but being looked at by him still made me feel like there were needles on my back. Vance reached back into the car seat, grabbed the box containing Heart’s Desire, and played with it, opening and closing it in his hand, waiting with great patience for me to approach on my own. He knew the significance of this bracelet to me. My father was a superstitious man. Even when he later accumulated massive wealth, the Heart’s Desire that had been passed down for generations was always his most prized possession. He always said that Heart’s Desire had an aura; if it was gone, it signaled that our family line was broken. When the family went bankrupt back then, all our belongings were auctioned off to pay debts. This had always been a sore spot for my mother. I asked around many times, but to no avail. It was hard enough that the wealthy lady who bought Heart’s Desire put it up for auction this time. I rushed back in a hurry, only to be intercepted by Vance. “What’s the meaning of this?” He lowered his eyelids, his voice sounding a bit lazy. Two years unseen, without a single word exchanged, this was the first sentence he said. But I knew him too well; the calmer he was, the more violent the undercurrents hidden beneath. I spoke coldly: “I don’t want it anymore.” That day, seeing Heart’s Desire on Blair’s wrist, I was sad. We used to be too intimate; Vance knew best what kind of soft knife could stab into my heart. Vance’s hand movements paused. After a long while, he let out a light sneer. “Okay, you have backbone.” The night breeze blew, and an uncertain storm lurked in the air. He casually raised his hand, and the bracelet hit the ground with a crisp sound, breaking into several pieces. I held my breath, making no sound. “Chloe.” Vance’s tone was very light, not revealing the slightest bit of temper. “Don’t constantly test my patience.” 6 The roar of the engine tore through the night sky as he sped away. I stood quietly for a moment, then turned and went inside. Why didn’t Vance understand? I wasn’t throwing a tantrum or making a scene. I truly didn’t care anymore. Early the next morning, Ms. Reed came to pick me up for an audition. She spoke to me earnestly: “You’ve had a blank slate for two years. This is your best chance to return to the top. You must seize it.” The overseas-returned genius director, Archer, had reached the pinnacle of domestic and international film awards with just two movies in three short years, his momentum unparalleled. The news that Archer was the executive producer and director of the upcoming film “For Her” brought its own nationwide buzz. To get a role, stars of all tiers had long been fighting tooth and nail. I laughed self-deprecatingly. “With so many A-listers fighting for the female lead, why would he choose a washed-up nobody like me?” For an actress who had been completely absent for two years during her peak, this was undoubtedly career suicide. A harsh, worldly genius like Archer probably wouldn’t choose an actress like me. “No matter how washed up you are, you’re still an actress who took home the Best Actress trophy.” Ms. Reed was quite optimistic. “Besides, I read the script, and I feel like the female lead’s role was made for you.” I didn’t think much of it. The entertainment industry has always worshipped the high and trampled the low. Even if Archer was aloof, it was hard to avoid being hijacked by capital. I didn’t hold out much hope for this role. Especially when waiting in the lounge, I saw Blair arriving with a massive entourage, surrounded by a crowd. Ms. Reed went next door to coordinate, leaving only me and my little assistant. “A newcomer sure puts on a big show,” the little assistant muttered under her breath. I closed the script, speaking gently. “Gossip less about others.” The little assistant pouted, clearly disliking Blair. “Chloe.” Blair came over with a beaming smile. “What a coincidence, we meet again.” I nodded slightly. “It is quite a coincidence.” Blair’s expression had some subtle changes. Soon, she raised the corners of her lips, took a coffee from her assistant’s hand, and handed it to me. Out of politeness, I stood up just as I was about to refuse, but her hand suddenly tilted, and the coffee spilled, splashing all over me. To match the character for the audition, I was wearing a long white dress, and the stain was particularly obvious. The scalding heat seeped through the fabric, stinging my skin. “Oops.” She let out a soft cry, her apology insincere. “Sorry about that, my hand shook.” She feigned panic, taking a tissue to wipe the stain for me, her smile sweet. “Chloe, if I were you, I wouldn’t have come. “You probably don’t know, my boyfriend is the investor for this movie. He said the female lead can only be me.”

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As a senior agent for the Bureau of Dimensional Affairs, I was assigned to a romance novel universe where I fell in love with the gentle second male lead. I became his salvation, cherished him, and even gave up my interdimensional career to stay in this world as he tearfully begged me to. But when the original female lead found herself in danger, he abandoned me without a second thought. He told me that she was his unattainable treasure, the one he could never let go of. He said that after half a lifetime, his memories with her still kept him warm. What he didn’t know was that the very moment he turned his back on me, I lost my bet. And the price for losing was to forget him entirely—and start over. 1. At my engagement party with Arthur Vance, the crystal chandelier above us suddenly shattered. Shards of glass exploded through the air, reflecting blinding shards of light. Arthur’s pupils shrank. Without a moment of hesitation, he lunged to the side, throwing his body over Luna Hayes. Amidst the screaming and chaos, he frantically asked her, “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Luna leaned weakly against his chest. “I’m fine…” Still visibly panicked, Arthur stared at her for a long time, scanning her for injuries before letting out a sigh of relief. Meanwhile, I—his actual fiancée—had been knocked hard to the floor. Shards of glass were embedded in my arm, beads of blood seeping through the fabric of my dress. Yet, no one was looking at me. I looked down at my bleeding arm, the jagged glass glinting in the wound. I was never someone with a high pain tolerance, but in that moment, the overwhelming numbness washing over my heart made the physical agony feel almost distant. “Arthur…” I said softly. “It hurts.” Arthur froze, finally noticing I was there. He furrowed his brows and took a step toward me to help me up, but Luna grabbed his sleeve. “My head is spinning,” she whispered pitifully. Arthur’s attention instantly snapped back to her. He threw a quick glance my way and said dismissively, “I need to get Luna to the ER. Your cut doesn’t look too bad—have someone get you a first-aid kit.” With that, he scooped Luna up into his arms and sprinted toward the exit. A lot of people had told me that Arthur Vance was a man of intense, passionate warmth. When he loved someone, his devotion was so raw and sincere it could melt a heart of stone. When he loved me, I felt like the luckiest woman in the world. But this time, he didn’t choose me. He poured all that fierce, protective love onto someone else. The banquet hall fell dead silent. Our friends and family didn’t dare make a sound. After a long pause, Luna’s older sister, Stella, let out a sharp scoff. “I guess Arthur still cares about our Luna just as much as he used to,” she sneered, her eyes locked on me. “Don’t take it personally, Hazel. They grew up together. You’ve only known Arthur for a few years. It’s perfectly normal for him to react this way.” Right. How perfectly normal. The devoted second male lead choosing the female protagonist. 2. My history with Arthur Vance was complicated. I was a senior agent at the Bureau of Dimensional Affairs, tasked with hopping between parallel universes to complete assignments. I had seen millions of worlds, but I had never stopped to rest in any of them—until I met Arthur, the tragic second male lead of this novel’s universe. He made me want to stop running. He was the unloved, illegitimate son of the wealthy Vance family, silently harboring a deep, unrequited love for the female lead, Luna. Because he was gentle and kind, he naturally lost out to the arrogant, billionaire male protagonist. In the original plot, Arthur was destined to die young, consumed by depression and regret. I originally approached him just to complete my mission: saving the doomed supporting character. I pulled him out of the toxic swamp that was the Vance family. I held his hand and taught him how to build his own tech startup, how to fight for his rightful inheritance, and how to love himself. “You don’t need to drown in the misery of unrequited love,” I told him. “You can be the best version of yourself.” It took seven years. He transformed from a despised outcast into the powerful head of the Vance empire, standing toe-to-toe with the original male lead. My mission was officially a resounding success. But when he found out I was leaving, his eyes went red. “I don’t want you to go. Stay with me. Please?” The system in my head screamed frantic warnings: “There is a massive price to pay for staying in a host world! Think this through!” I knew the risks. But looking at him, my heart softened. I accepted his proposal. I promised to stay by his side forever. He jumped up and down, cheering like a little boy who had just won the world. I truly believed he loved me. I believed he had fallen for the woman who saved him. That was, until the engagement party, when Luna—the original female lead who had just moved back from abroad—made her smiling entrance. The moment Arthur saw her, the look in his eyes completely shifted. His gaze was so tangled, so steeped in a tragic, profound longing. He was still in love with the girl he could never have. And the second she was in danger, he abandoned his fiancée without a second thought. But what about me? What about the seven years I spent by his side? What about the fact that I gave up everything to stay here for him? Faced with Stella’s mocking sneer, I didn’t have the energy to fight back. I was nothing but a joke. 3. After having the hotel staff patch up my arm, I went home alone to wait for Arthur. I waited from noon until the dead of night. Finally, the familiar sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway. Arthur walked in, looking utterly exhausted. Seeing me sitting on the couch, he looked a bit guilty. “Why are you still awake?” I lifted my bandaged arm, trying to keep my voice light. “It hurts too much. I couldn’t sleep.” “Are you mad that I helped Luna first? Hazel, Luna isn’t like you. She’s fragile, she gets hurt so easily. I was terrified something terrible would happen to her…” Arthur explained nervously. “You aren’t going to hold this against me, right?” How could I not be mad? It was true that I used to be different from Luna. As a Bureau agent, I had abilities that defied human limits. I wouldn’t have batted an eye at a falling chandelier—hell, I wouldn’t have flinched at a speeding truck. But I surrendered all of that power the day I chose to stay for Arthur. Now, I was completely mortal. I bruise. I bleed. If my luck had been slightly worse today, that glass could have killed me. But Arthur never once stopped to worry about that. Before I could even form a response, Arthur’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen, muttered a quick “I have to take this,” and walked into the bedroom. I couldn’t help but follow him. Standing by the door, I clearly heard Luna’s voice on speakerphone. “Arthur, I had a nightmare,” she cried softly. “Can you come keep me company?” Arthur’s voice instantly melted into distress. “Don’t be scared. I’m on my way.” Luna hesitated. “But… won’t Hazel be angry?” Arthur paused for a split second before answering with absolute certainty, “No. She would never blame me.” Right. Because I loved him so much. Because I had done so much for him. Because I threw away my entire existence just to stay trapped in this world for him. He was so certain I would never blame him, which meant he felt completely free to hurt me without consequence. But tonight, I was done tolerating it. I stepped out and blocked his path to the door. “If you walk out that door right now, don’t ever come back.” Arthur frowned, impatiently pushing past my shoulder. “Can’t we have a little more trust in this relationship? I seriously don’t know why you’ve become so paranoid lately!” That sentence was the final straw that broke the camel’s back. My eyes welled with tears. I looked him dead in the eye. “A long time ago, you asked me if there was a price for choosing to stay in this world. I’m answering you now: Yes. There is.” When he had asked me that question years ago, he was a man whose entire universe revolved around me. He was terrified, gentle, desperate to make sure I wouldn’t be hurt. Because I didn’t want him to worry, I lied and told him there was no cost. Hearing my words now, Arthur froze. His lips parted, as if he wanted to say something. But his phone chimed again. His expression tightened, and he brushed past me, rushing toward the door. “We’ll talk about this later! I need to go check on Luna!” Twice in one day. He still didn’t choose me. 4. The Bureau of Dimensional Affairs is an agency governed by a divine entity. Its employees are all souls who have died in their original worlds, deployed in spiritual form to execute missions across the multiverse. Because of this, it is strictly forbidden for an agent to permanently reside in a host world. When I submitted my resignation to stay, the AI system and my colleagues nearly lost their minds. They asked me, “What is so great about Arthur Vance that you’re willing to sacrifice half your soul for him?” It was true. To sever my ties with the Bureau, I had to violently rip the system out of my consciousness. The process was agonizing, and it nearly destroyed my soul. I probably wouldn’t have survived it, but that day, I happened to cross paths with my ultimate boss—the legendary God who ran the Bureau. The God had looked down at me with pity, brushing a hand over my hair with a faint smile. “Why don’t we make a bet?” he offered. “Seven years. If, in seven years, Arthur Vance is still deeply in love with you, you can stay in this world forever.” “And if he stops loving me?” I asked. The God replied, “Then you pay the price.” The price was that all my memories of Arthur would be erased. I agreed without a second thought. Back then, I was absolutely certain I would win. Because Arthur loved me so intensely. This fiercely proud man had dropped to his knees, sobbing, begging me not to leave. When I told him I didn’t want kids, he faced the wrath of the entire Vance family just to promise me we would remain child-free forever. His eyes used to sparkle as he told me, “Hazel is my most precious treasure.” But as time slipped by, that warm, devoted love slowly eroded. Maybe he still loved me in his own way, but he couldn’t erase Luna—the golden girl he had been destined by the universe to chase. As the sound of the front door slamming echoed in the quiet house, my memories of Arthur violently blurred for a fraction of a second. In that fleeting moment, a suffocating wave of heartbreak and bitter regret washed over me. I stood frozen in the hallway for a long time. Finally, I grabbed my car keys and drove straight to the hospital where Luna was staying. 5. When I reached the door of Luna’s VIP suite, she was clinging to Arthur’s arm, whining for him to peel an apple for her. “Stop messing around, I’m an engaged man,” Arthur said, though his tone was fond and helpless. Ultimately, he caved, carefully slicing the fruit and handing it to her on a small plate. Then, I heard Luna ask him, “Arthur, if I said I regretted it… if I said I still have feelings for you… would you… come back to me?” Her voice was laced with desperation. Outside the door, I stopped breathing. What would Arthur say? After a painfully long silence, Arthur’s gentle voice echoed through the room. “Luna, we can’t go back to how things were.” Luna’s eyes dimmed, and Arthur immediately rushed to comfort her. “But you will always be my Luna. I will never, ever forget the time we spent together. Even after I marry Hazel, you will always hold a special place in my heart.” He had no idea I was standing right outside the door, biting down on my lip so hard I tasted copper, just to keep from sobbing out loud. Years of sacrifice. Years of standing by his side through the darkest moments of his life. And it still couldn’t compare to the pristine moonlight of his first love. The female lead would always live rent-free in the second male lead’s heart, no matter what happened. Arthur was still talking. “Hazel loves me deeply. She won’t mind if I take care of you. If you ever need anything, you can always come to me…” I did love him deeply. And the one who loves more is always the one forced to bow their head. The fracturing in my brain grew violent. Arthur’s face in my mind was rapidly dissolving into static. Trembling uncontrollably, I stumbled away from the door, sprinting desperately toward the hospital exit. By the time I reached the main lobby, the agonizing surge of vertigo forced me to a halt. My legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the polished tile floor. A familiar figure suddenly stepped into my blurred line of sight. Long, elegant fingers held out a single, perfectly blooming red rose. A voice spoke in a melodic, highly amused tone: “Darling, you lost.” I did. I lost. A blinding flash of white light consumed my vision, and I blacked out.

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I adhered strictly to the code of the perfect girlfriend: I never snooped through his phone, never questioned his whereabouts, and if I ever bumped into him shopping with other girls, I’d panic more than he did, keeping my head down and sprinting away so I wouldn’t ruin his fun. Six months into our relationship, we were casting a movie from his phone to the TV when a text message suddenly dropped down from the top of the screen: “I’m pregnant.” After a moment of awkward silence, I hesitantly asked: “Should I… go be a postpartum doula for your baby mama?” 1 At night, I unlocked a Lime bike, feeling dead inside as I prepared to head to my tutoring gig for a spoiled brat. Suddenly, a voice called out to me. “Hey, you on the bike.” I paused and turned around. “Me?” “Yeah, you. Come here.” I walked over, completely bewildered. The guy held out a sleek bank card. “Be my girlfriend. I’ll give you $30,000 a month. Deal?” “Huh?” The guy looked incredibly impatient and repeated, “Be my girlfriend, I’ll give you $30k a month. I’ll ask one last time—deal?” To my ears, that sentence sounded like: Blah blah… free $30,000… blah blah. I snatched the bank card with lightning speed. “Hubby!” “Good girl,” the guy nodded in satisfaction. He casually wrapped an arm around my shoulder and shot a disdainful look at the person standing across from him. “See that? Thirty grand means nothing to me, but I’d rather feed it to a stray dog than give it to you. You’re not worth it.” I didn’t even flinch at his words. He just gave me thirty grand; he could call me a stray dog all he wanted. “Pfft, who are you trying to fool with a piece of plastic?” I finally noticed the woman standing across from us, arms crossed, looking arrogant. This beauty had an Instagram-filter face filled with Botox and fillers, curves for days, and a very skimpy outfit. But I didn’t have time to admire her. Alarm bells were ringing in my head. What if this card was empty? Then I just called him “Hubby” for nothing! The guy pulled out his phone. “You. Pull up your Zelle QR code.” I whipped out my beat-up iPhone and pulled up the code, not forgetting to shoot the beauty across from us a look of pure gratitude. This is what ‘Girls Help Girls’ truly means! The guy tapped his phone a few times, and an alert instantly popped up on my screen. “You received $30,000.00.” Memo: “Voluntary Gift.” “See that?” The guy waved his phone at the beauty. Her face turned an ugly shade of green, completely speechless. “Remember, I dumped you.” He pocketed his phone with satisfaction, turned, and strode away. After a few steps, he glanced back. “What are you standing there for like an idiot? Keep up.” I quickly jogged after him. “Coming, Hubby!” 2 The guy walked all the way to the campus gates and stopped by a black Porsche Cayenne. Frowning, he asked, “Where are you going? I’ll drop you off.” “I…” I was about to give him the tutoring address, but then I remembered the $30,000 currently sitting in my account. I quickly changed my tune: “I’m heading back to my dorm.” “Alright, then I won’t drive you. There’s another $60,000 on that card. With the $30k I just sent, that covers you as my girlfriend for the next three months. Any questions?” I gripped the bank card tightly and shook my head. “None at all.” He pulled up his iMessage contact info. “Add me.” I quickly saved his number, thoughtfully typing my contact name as: “Sydney (Girlfriend)” He accepted my text, then put his phone away. “Alright, that’s it for now. If I need something, I’ll text you. I’m out.” I stood there like an idiot until his black Porsche disappeared from view, still unable to process what just happened. With my terrible luck—the kind where I’ve never even won a free soda from a bottle cap—was this actually happening to me? I grabbed my phone and checked my balance again. $30,105.50 For the first time in my life, I felt that living was absolutely worth it. 3 Back at the dorm, I immediately quit my tutoring job. Then I started Googling: “New scam tactics.” I searched high and low but couldn’t find any scam that worked like this. I backed out of the browser, checked my balance again, then looked at the bank card in my hand. It suddenly hit me—he hadn’t given me the PIN! I opened our text thread. I didn’t even know his name. After agonizing over it, I brazenly texted: “Hi, Boyfriend.” Half an hour passed before he replied. “What.” I replied in a second. “Um… you haven’t given me the PIN for the bank card yet.” Another half hour passed, and he sent a string of numbers. “001223” Immediately after, he sent a four-second voice memo backed by deafening club music and chaotic shouting. “That’s my birthday. Memorize it. I’ll be quizzing you later.” I typed out, “Memorize it? I’ll carve it into my DNA.” I thought better of it, deleted it, and replied with “Got it!” paired with a cute cat emoji I hadn’t used in centuries. He didn’t reply again, so I sneaked out in the dark to the campus ATM. Once I confirmed the $60,000 balance, I returned to my dorm, completely satisfied. Showered, went to sleep. 4 In my dreams, I was living in a Manhattan penthouse, neighbors with a tech billionaire. Just as I was happily listening to him spill the tea on some A-list celebrities, an ear-piercing FaceTime ringtone yanked me back to reality. I kept my eyes shut, answering with extreme annoyance: “Hello?” “You’re asleep already?” I checked the time. It was 3:50 AM. I instinctively snapped back, “What does it look like?” “Are you yelling at me?” I woke up instantly. My sugar daddy! I softened my voice immediately. “Baby, I wasn’t yelling at you.” The line went quiet for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was laced with alcohol. “Why didn’t you tell me goodnight before you went to sleep?” Honestly, having been single since birth, I wasn’t used to reporting to anyone before bed. But I couldn’t exactly say that, so I made an excuse. “I was going to, but I accidentally fell asleep.” “You know you’re my girlfriend, right?” “I know.” “From now on, I want the same treatment every other boyfriend gets. And the treatment they don’t get, I want that too. Otherwise, don’t expect a subscription renewal.” Subscription renewal? That’s a thing?! “I got it, I’ll pay attention from now on. But—” I paused, feeling the need to clarify something upfront. “Um… just so we’re clear, I’m a paid actor, not an escort.” He chuckled through the phone. “Relax. Your boy is a law-abiding citizen.” I breathed a sigh of relief. I was very satisfied with this job. “I have an early class tomorrow. When I come downstairs, I want to see you holding breakfast. I’ll text you my dorm building and room number.” “Okay, baby.” “Yeah. Go back to sleep.” “I’m going to sleep then. Goodnight, baby.” “Yeah.” The call ended. 5 The next morning, I woke up bright and early, dressed up nicely, bought breakfast, and waited in front of the men’s dorm. Watching the endless stream of guys pouring out, I encountered a new problem. I have mild face-blindness. Plus, yesterday I was so focused on staring at the bank card, my account balance, the luxury car, and the Botox face that I didn’t actually remember what the guy looked like. I only remembered he wore all black and had a diamond stud in his left ear. Clutching the breakfast, I stared intensely at every guy’s ear, searching carefully. Five minutes later, a guy dressed entirely in black with a black stud in his left ear walked out. I quickly put on my best professional smile and jogged over. “Good morning, Hubby.” The guy froze in his tracks. The air around us went silent for a second before the guys around him started hooting and teasing him. “Wow, Ethan, since when do you have a girlfriend?” “Isn’t this the junior from our department?” “You actually bagged the ‘Ice Queen’?” Ethan? The upperclassman from my major? “Sorry, my girlfriend is still half-asleep. She recognized the wrong person.” A familiar voice rang out from behind me. A long, slender arm lazily draped over my shoulder. The guy tilted his head down, his dark eyes looking at me with a half-smile. “Your hubby is right here, girlfriend.” … I felt like I was about to get fired. 6 After we walked a fair distance away, he finally let go of me. He unhurriedly pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and raised an eyebrow. “Do I look like him?” He was standing against the morning light. I only reached his chest. He had sharp, narrow eyes, a high nose bridge, and a razor-sharp jawline. As he exhaled white smoke, he exuded a dangerous yet captivating vibe. The senior from earlier, Ethan, had a similar build, but his features were softer, his eyes kinder, giving off a warm, comforting, boy-next-door energy. I shook my head seriously. “Not at all.” “Then how did you mess that up? I stood right next to you for half an hour, and you run off to call someone else Hubby?” “Half an hour? I didn’t see you come down!” “I didn’t sleep in the dorms last night. I drove all the way back just for you.” He sighed dramatically. “Who knew I’d stand there for thirty minutes while my own girlfriend couldn’t recognize me and called another man her husband right to my face? Looks like I didn’t pay you enough.” “You paid enough, you paid enough! When I get back, I’ll carve your face into my brain. I’ll never recognize the wrong person again.” He smirked, amused. “I thought you were the ‘Ice Queen.’ Why are you acting like a comic relief sidekick?” I immediately clarified my stance. “Whatever Hubby likes, that’s the role I’ll play.” He tossed his cigarette into a nearby trash can. “I’ll forgive you this once for having good customer service. Do you have morning classes?” I finally relaxed. “Thank you, Boss. No morning classes.” He shot me a lazy side-eye. “Boss?” “I misspoke. Hubby.” “If you don’t have class, come with me to mine.” He threw an arm over my shoulder and steered me toward the academic building. “If you call someone else Hubby again, I’m docking your pay.” “Understood.” I obediently kept pace with him. For thirty grand a month, forget going to class with him—I’d go bungee jumping with him. 7 He was a junior, one year ahead of me, majoring in Computer Science. He pulled me through the back door of the lecture hall, heading straight for the last row, and started picking at the breakfast I bought. “I don’t like this one, you eat it. I like the soup dumplings. Buy more of those next time.” I casually pulled a notebook from my bag, clicked my pen, and started scribbling furiously. “Uh-huh, please continue.” He raised an eyebrow and leaned over to look at my notebook. Sugar Daddy Preferences – Breakfast Edition Soup Dumplings +1 Breakfast Burritos -1 He paused, then burst out laughing. “Why are you being so cute? Are you trying to kill me?” Then he successfully choked on his food, laughing and coughing violently. It took him a good minute to recover. I silently added a few more words to the page: “Feed with caution, prone to choking.” 8 When the professor walked in, his first question was: “Is Carter here today?” “Here,” Carter raised his hand lazily. So my wonderful husband is named Carter. “Finally gracing us with your presence. A rare sight indeed.” The professor shot him a look and started the lecture. Carter slouched in his seat, tried to listen for a bit, and then fell asleep. I was bored, so I decided to take notes for him. Whether I understood the coding jargon or not, I just wrote it all down. I spent most of the class taking notes with my head down. Carter finally woke up, resting his chin on his hand, watching me write. When the bell rang, he asked me in a raspy voice: “Girlfriend, what’s your name?” “Sydney.” “Alright.” He patted my head. “Wait here for a bit. I’m going out for a smoke.” As soon as Carter walked out, a pair of hands with a lavish, expensive manicure tapped on my desk. “Hey.” I looked up and saw my Botox-faced bestie from yesterday. “Oh, hi. You’re in the same major as Carter?” The beauty ignored my greeting and frowned. “Are you really dating Carter?” “Yeah.” Her frown deepened. “You don’t even know him! You’re just with him because he threw some cash at you?” “Yeah.” “Do you have no morals? Have you thrown away your dignity for money?” I looked at her, utterly confused. “Do you hear yourself? Would you rather I keep my dignity and throw away the money?” She grew agitated. “You… what kind of person are you?!” “A hardworking, dedicated employee, obviously.” I thought about it and added, “Don’t even think about stealing my job. Cutting off my income is like murdering my parents. I’ll fight you to the death.” “Who wants to steal your job?” Carter strolled casually through the back door. I instantly switched faces, lowering my eyes to look pitiful and fragile. “No one.” Carter scowled at her. “Why are you bothering my girlfriend?” I tugged at Carter’s sleeve, acting deeply wronged. “It’s okay, Hubby. Don’t be mad at her. Even though she said I have no morals or dignity, I know she didn’t mean it.” Carter glared at the beauty. “Jealous now? Too late.” He smoothly pulled me into his arms, stroking my hair to comfort me. “It’s okay, Sydney. Don’t pay attention to her. Hubby will take you shopping for bags and clothes later to make up for it.” I desperately wanted to look up and ask him: Are we really buying stuff? If so, can I just take the cash equivalent? But I didn’t ask, because just as I was about to look up, Carter seemed to know exactly what I was planning. He effortlessly and firmly held my head down against his chest. “You two are… disgusting!” The beauty spat out the insult and stomped away in her stilettos. Carter let go of me. “Alright, you can stop acting now. You’re quite the drama queen.” “Just defending my boss’s honor. It’s my duty.” I sat proudly next to him. Watching the Botox beauty’s retreating back in the distance, I couldn’t resist prying. “Baby, how did she make you so mad?” Carter shot a nasty look at her back. “How else? She found some forty-something-year-old real estate developer and cheated on me.” “Wait, you’re this handsome and rich. Why would she go for an old man?” “Because she’s blind.” Carter leaned in, lowering his voice to complain: “I had never dated anyone before. She followed me around for a year, so I figured, why not give it a shot? We dated for a month. Then she tells me her birthday is coming up and keeps dropping hints for me to buy her a designer bag. “The bag was only three grand. I thought that was way too cheap and tacky, so I said no. I custom-ordered a BMW for her instead. But on her birthday, she ghosted me. The next night, I saw her stepping out of some old guy’s car. She literally told me that if I wasn’t willing to buy her things, plenty of other men would. She told me if I was broke, I shouldn’t be dating and wasting her time. “I lost my mind. You can insult a lot of things about me, but calling me broke?!” “Ooooh—” I nodded in realization. So that’s how I hit the jackpot. “What a waste of my first relationship.” I solemnly patted his shoulder. “It’s okay, you have me now. Your first love might have been a waste, but your thirty grand absolutely won’t be. I promise to give you a Premium VIP dating experience.” Carter gave me a sideways glance. “You better work hard. If you keep me happy, renewing your contract for another six months or a year won’t be a problem.” Ah, capitalists and their empty promises.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “454682”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My brother is a total C-lister. To recycle their dead weight, his agency threw him into a reality idol survival show. Round two required the trainees to perform an original song. The trust-fund kid brought in a platinum-selling producer. The nepo baby dragged in his mega-star older brother. My brother brought me: an absolutely average music teacher. After the first round aired, the song we produced went insanely viral across the internet: “This is a masterpiece! His sister absolutely slayed this!” “What kind of school does this music teacher work at?! She’s a genius!” My brother silently raised his hand: “B… Berklee.” 1 I was right in the middle of grading my students’ compositions when my brother called. My top student was prepping for a new single release, and after eight revisions, he still wasn’t satisfied with the demo. I was frantically marking up the sheet music with a red pen, snapping into the phone in total frustration: “I told you I’m slammed. I can’t fly back to the States right now. Find someone else.” I was fully prepared to hang up, but Leo’s desperate voice pleaded through the receiver: “Aria, you’re my only sister! Just help me this one time. I swear, if you do this, I’ll deflect all of Aunt Susan’s nosy marriage interrogations at Thanksgiving and Christmas this year.” Women know exactly how this goes. Once you hit a certain age, every distant relative suddenly becomes deeply invested in your marital and reproductive status. Since we still had our grandparents around, flying home for the holidays was mandatory. The mere thought of Aunt Susan’s machine-gun-style questioning made me instantly cave. I rubbed my temples and sighed: “Text me the time and location. I’ll clear my schedule.” I hung up just as I finished tweaking the demo. Chase, my student, was leaning against the desk. Having overheard the entire conversation, he flashed a bright, perfectly curated smile: “Aria, are you flying back to the States?” I packed up the sheet music and handed it to him: “Yeah, family emergency. I have to head back for a bit.” With that, I grabbed my bag and rushed out to book a flight. I was in such a hurry, I didn’t even catch his final question: “Can I come find you?” 2 A week later, I stood outside the massive studio training camp, dragging three heavy suitcases, nearly blinded by the aggressive flash of paparazzi cameras. Leo conveniently left out the fact that the show would be live-broadcasting our arrivals. So, while other mentors were stepping out of tinted Escalades draped in haute couture, I was standing on the curb in sweatpants, aggressively haggling with an Uber driver. “We agreed on fifty bucks from the airport! Not a penny more.” “Lady, look at this mob! Do you see this traffic? I’m gonna be stuck here all morning. I need a surge fee.” I dug into my wallet. I had rushed back from Europe so fast I hadn’t exchanged any cash, and my Venmo balance was sitting at exactly fifty bucks from a leftover pizza split. I prided myself on perfect budgeting, but today, I was officially screwed. A reporter standing nearby couldn’t bear to watch the tragedy unfold and handed the driver a twenty-dollar bill to cover the difference. I swore up and down I’d pay him back the second I got change, but he still blasted my face all over the livestream’s front page. #LeosSisterIsBroke #LeoBroughtHisSisterToSaveTheFamilyFarm #TraineeLeoEliminatedByRoundTwo What can I say? Rumors end with the wise, but this was a PR disaster. 3 After finally sorting out the driver, I followed the production assistants down the red carpet toward the training facility. The competition had split eighty contestants into eight groups of ten. Leo was placed in Group 3, a team entirely composed of indie trainees with zero corporate backing and zero budget for famous mentors. No wonder the kid was begging for his life. The mentors took turns introducing themselves on the red carpet. First up was the mega-star brother Leo warned me about. He debuted ten years ago and was the absolute reigning pop idol of his generation: “Hey everyone, I’m Jaxon. I’m the mentor for Tyler’s team, and I specialize in rap and dance.” The fans behind the barricades completely lost their minds. The host eagerly hyped him up: “Jaxon is being too humble! Everyone knows that after a decade in the industry, his songwriting is just as legendary as his dancing.” Jaxon waved his hands modestly: “When it comes to songwriting, we have a literal platinum-selling producer right here. I wouldn’t dare claim to be a legend.” Right on cue, the woman standing next to me in a custom Dior dress stepped up to the mic: “Hi everyone, I’m Vivian. I’m a music producer, the mentor for Cole’s team, and I specialize in composition and lyricism.” She covered her mouth with a soft, elegant laugh, gently waving to her screaming fans. I don’t know if it was just my intuition, but I could swear Vivian was glaring at me with pure hostility. Before I could overthink it, the microphone was shoved into my hands: “Hi everyone, I’m Aria. I’m the mentor for Leo’s team. I’m a music teacher, mostly working in music education, and I also specialize in composition.” The moment the words left my mouth, the atmosphere in the crowd turned incredibly toxic: [Is this Aria chick trying to steal Vivian’s brand?] [Where did they find a random music teacher? Can she even read sheet music?] [Leo and his sister are so desperate for screen time.] [Ugh, my favorite trainee is stuck on Leo’s team! Is it too late for him to switch?!] The crowd was buzzing with insults. The host quickly tried to do damage control: “What a coincidence! Miss Aria is also a composer. Do you have any published works we might know?” I knew the host was trying to throw me a lifeline so I could win over the fans. Worried they wouldn’t recognize my European releases, I picked a domestic track I had recently produced. “Give Me Power.” The second I dropped the title, the crowd erupted into outright mockery: [What the hell is that? Never heard of it.] [I just searched Spotify. It literally doesn’t exist.] [Is this girl delusional? Does she count unreleased garage band tracks as ‘published’?] The host clearly thought the exact same thing. He let out a painfully awkward laugh, said, “Miss Aria is so funny!” and practically threw the mic to the next person before I could cause any more live-television disasters. It wasn’t until much later that I realized the sports committee had localized the title. To make it catchier for the domestic market, they completely changed the name. When fans eventually looked up the official songwriting credits for the Olympic Theme Song and saw the name “Aria” sitting in the composer slot, they completely lost their minds. [I am the clown. The clown is me.] [The Olympic Anthem Give Me Strength was originally titled Give Me Power!!] 4 After introductions, the mentors dispersed to claim their teams. Before I even reached my designated zone, Leo practically sprinted over, dragging me by the arm: “Guys, meet my sister! She’s an insanely talented songwriter…” “How talented? Like, ‘zero published songs’ talented?” Before Leo could even finish, a blonde trainee named Dylan cut in with pure venom. “Shut your mouth, Dylan. If you have a problem, go find another team,” Leo snapped. He absolutely refused to let anyone disrespect me. Dylan had an ego. Getting called out in front of the cameras was all it took. He immediately turned on his heel and marched straight over to Vivian’s team. The rules allowed up to 12 members per group, and she still had open slots. Seeing Dylan walk out, Leo shouted to the room: “Anyone else want to leave? Door’s right there! Go now before the other teams fill up!” That shout prompted three more guys to walk out. From the original ten boys we started with, we were down to six in under five minutes. The live stream comments were brutal: [Only six people left? That was fast.] [These poor kids have zero resources.] [Sister Uber-surge needs to quit. If she needs money, we’ll start a GoFundMe.] They left so fast I couldn’t even say a word to stop them. Leo waited until the dust settled to introduce the survivors: “Sis, these are our guys. This is Mason, veteran street dancer, currently ranked 70th. This is Spencer…” He went down the line. Not a single kid ranked in the top 50. “And then there’s me, Leo. Sitting pretty at rank 20.” “So, basically, this team doesn’t have a single debut-tier trainee,” I sighed, looking at this ragtag group of kids. I felt like I had just been drafted into a boy band retirement home. “Wait, sis! Let me formally introduce my absolute best bro, Ryder. Sings like an angel, dances like a demon, currently ranked number 3.” I looked at the boy Leo shoved toward me. Ryder was undeniably gorgeous—honestly, right up there with my star student Chase. He had this cold, aloof look in his eyes that teenage girls absolutely lose their minds over. No wonder he was top three. But… “Everyone else bailed. Why did you stay? Aren’t you terrified of losing your debut spot?” I asked. Ryder stood there, effortlessly cool, tilting his chin toward Leo: “I lost a bet to this idiot and promised I’d carry his team. I’m strong enough to survive this regardless. And if you don’t know how to write a song, I’ll do it for you.” Damn, I thought to myself. I’m shipping this. Am I getting a brother-in-law out of this show? 5 After the awkward greetings, we followed the host to draw our performance themes. By pure chance, we drew the exact same theme as Vivian’s elite group: “The Four Seasons.” Youth and the changing seasons—it was a poetic, fitting prompt. I gathered the boys in our assigned practice room and told them to share their life stories. Art requires a soul. You can only move an audience if your music bleeds with genuine emotion. That was my first official lesson as their mentor. We were deep in an emotional discussion when the heavy doors suddenly banged open. Dylan, the kid who had walked out earlier, strutted in with his chin held high: “Sorry guys, I requested this practice room first. You need to leave.” “What do you mean you requested it? You guys literally walked into Room 2 ten minutes ago!” Mason, our lead dancer, had a notoriously short fuse and absolutely hated bullies. Dylan stood in the doorway, a mocking smirk on his lips. He glanced back at a young production assistant named Jenkins. “If you don’t believe me, ask Assistant Jenkins. We told her from the start we wanted Room 5.” Jenkins was fresh out of college. Hearing Dylan throw her under the bus, she realized she was being forced to lie. She cast a terrified look at Dylan, her eyes darting away nervously as she gave a slight nod. I stared directly at Jenkins: “Little girl, the path of your life is determined by where you set your baseline. Are you absolutely sure you want to start your career by bowing to people like this?” That single question seemed to strike a nerve. The young assistant clenched her fists, staring at the floor. Something shifted in her eyes, and with a sudden surge of bravery, she blurted out: “No! Dylan’s team never asked for this room! Vivian thought Room 2’s lighting was bad for her skin, so she wanted to switch. All the other rooms were taken by big agencies. She looked around and decided your team was the easiest to bully!” Dylan’s scheme was dragged completely into the light. Furious and humiliated, he started screaming, demanding the camera operators cut the footage immediately and threatening to blacklist Jenkins from the industry forever. Leo laughed, openly mocking him: “Listen to this guy! You’re a washed-up, serial reality-show reject, and you’re acting like a mafia boss? Who the hell are you to order cuts?” “Dylan doesn’t have the authority, but I do.” The words echoed from the hallway as Cole—the infamous nepo baby—walked in with his entourage, followed closely by Assistant Director Hayes. Hearing Cole’s demand, Director Hayes immediately began kissing up. He ordered the cameras to cut, deleted the footage, and turned right to Assistant Jenkins: “Pack your desk. Don’t bother coming in tomorrow.” The power of daddy’s corporate money was truly terrifying. The commotion was so loud that trainees from all the other rooms flooded out to watch the drama unfold. Vivian finally emerged from Room 2, playing the picture-perfect, understanding victim. She offered an apologetic smile: “I am so sorry. My eyes are incredibly sensitive to bad lighting, and I just couldn’t read the sheet music in there. I just wanted to swap rooms… I had no idea it would cause this much trouble.” “Tell you what, Leo,” she continued sweetly, “I won’t just take the room for free. I know your team is struggling. When it comes to composing your song, you can come ask me for advice anytime.” She was literally offering a fake, non-existent part-time tutoring session in exchange for our studio space, while simultaneously stepping on my credibility as a mentor. Her manipulation was an absolute masterclass. Before I could even lose my temper, Leo pretended to gag: “Don’t talk to me like we’re family. I don’t have a sister like you.” That single sentence wiped the fake smiles completely off Vivian and Cole’s faces, leaving them pale with rage. “Leo, don’t push your luck!” Dylan lost his temper completely, shoving his finger aggressively into Leo’s face, mere inches from throwing a punch. Ryder instantly stepped up, grabbing Dylan’s finger with a vice grip: “Point that finger one more time and see what happens.” Yep, I thought. Definitely getting a brother-in-law. 6 But future in-laws aside, I absolutely refused to let my kids get bullied right in front of me. We’re all adults here; everyone has connections. I pulled out my phone, ready to dial Sterling. Sterling was my old college friend. Back when we were studying overseas, a bunch of us expat musicians bonded over our shared struggles, building a deep, mutual respect. After graduation, I stayed in academia to get tenured, while he returned to the US to inherit Apex Entertainment, turning it into an absolute corporate juggernaut over the past few years. But before my thumb could hit the call button, a massive wave of screaming erupted from the end of the hallway. Amidst the gasps and cheers, Chase strode through the blinding lights, his ridiculously long legs carrying him effortlessly forward, flashing his trademark, million-dollar idol smile. To everyone’s absolute shock, he bypassed the VIPs, walked straight up to me, and gave a playful wink that practically screamed, Surprise! [What are you doing here?!] I demanded with my eyes. Wasn’t he supposed to be across the Atlantic right now? Chase leaned in close, his voice dropping to a whisper only I could hear: “I asked you if I could come find you. You didn’t answer, so I took it as a yes.” Huh? When the hell did this kid ask me that? Before I could interrogate him further, the show’s executive producers and top directors rushed over, practically tripping over themselves to introduce him to the crowd: “Everyone knows the incredible Chase! He flew all the way back from his overseas tour just for this. He’s going to be joining us as a guest mentor for this segment. Let’s give him a massive welcome!” Through the deafening applause, trainees were whispering frantically: “The network must have spent a fortune! He’s literally the biggest star on the planet right now. How did they get him?!” “I know! Jaxon is famous, but that was ten years ago. Chase is an absolute A-lister at his absolute peak!” “Actually, I heard the network didn’t even dare to invite him. If they had, they would have hyped it for months. Chase’s management contacted the show directly.” “Why would he volunteer?!” “Duh, haven’t you heard the industry rumors? Chase has always credited a ‘muse’ from Berklee for his musical awakening. And Vivian is literally Berklee’s most famous outstanding alumna!” “So he flew across the world just for Vivian?!” “One hundred percent.” Hearing the gossip buzzing around the crowd, Vivian’s face flushed with a perfect, bashful pink. She offered a sweet, secretive smile, gently telling her trainees to “stop spreading rumors,” which only made it look even more obvious that she and Chase had some secret romantic history. I honestly didn’t care about Chase’s tabloid love life at that moment. The practice room hostage situation was still unresolved. If he took my side, great. But if he sided with his supposed “Berklee muse,” I wasn’t going to let our student-teacher bond stop me from going to war. With all the producers standing right there, I dialed Sterling on speakerphone. It took three sentences for him to grasp the situation. While he laughed his head off at the fact that I was getting bullied by reality TV kids, he immediately barked an order to his assistant to call the network executives. While I was still bantering with Sterling on the phone, the executive producer suddenly turned pale, hung up his own ringing phone, and approached me with absolute reverence. He aggressively apologized, declared that Room 5 was ours by right, and explicitly told me that if I ever needed anything else, I could bypass the crew and call the head director directly. In a matter of seconds, the power dynamic completely flipped back to our side. Realizing she couldn’t bully us out of the room anymore, Vivian immediately shifted her target to Chase. She looked up at him, batting her eyelashes, tears welling up beautifully in her eyes: “Chase, it’s okay. Even though the lighting in Room 2 hurts my eyes, I can suffer through it…” She was putting on an absolute masterclass in crying on command. Standing across from her, Chase furrowed his brows, looking deeply in thought, but didn’t say a word. I crossed my arms, also saying nothing. I truly couldn’t comprehend this level of petty drama. It was just a practice room! She was acting like I had stolen her husband. Seeing that Chase wasn’t taking the bait, Vivian turned up the heat: “It’s just that my doctors warned me about my severe light sensitivity. Working in that dark room is going to cause me physical pain…” “Hey,” Chase finally spoke up, cutting through the silence. Just as the crowd held their breath, expecting him to defend Vivian, he completely ignored her. He turned to me, gripping my sleeve with a deeply sulky, jealous pout: “Who were you just on the phone with?” “You guys sounded really close.” The jealousy in his voice was so thick you could cut it with a knife. What is wrong with this kid? Why is he acting so weird? “Just a college friend. I was getting bullied, so I called someone to have my back.” Chase frowned: “If you needed someone to have your back, why didn’t you just ask me? I’m standing right here. And I have a pretty great back.” To prove his point, he flexed his core, the crisp lines of his abs faintly visible through his designer shirt. …Dammit. A male idol’s waist is a lethal weapon. Just looking at him made my heart skip a beat. “Speaking of having my back,” I deflected, raising an eyebrow. “When I asked how many fans you had back at the studio, didn’t you tell me you only had ‘a few’? Since when are you a global mega-star?” “I said I had a few… million,” Chase grinned, looking completely innocent. When I was mentoring him overseas, I thought he was just a struggling, unknown indie artist, so I always went out of my way to take care of him. Turns out the kid was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Seeing us effortlessly banter in our own private bubble, Vivian couldn’t hold back her jealousy: “Do you two… know each other?” “Yeah,” Chase replied coolly, barely looking at her. Then, as if remembering a crucial detail, he added: “Also, out of respect for your peers, you should refer to her as Ms. Aria.” That single sentence was an absolute execution. The crowd of trainees who had just been swearing Chase flew back for Vivian practically felt the slap across their faces. “Is Chase really here for Vivian? Because it definitely doesn’t look like it.” “He’s strictly maintaining professional boundaries! He’s definitely avoiding rumors!” I didn’t care if he was avoiding rumors or not; Chase had handled this perfectly. He hadn’t let some fake tabloid romance rot his brain, and as his teacher, I was deeply proud. Realizing the practice room was a lost cause, Vivian gathered her trainees and retreated in total humiliation.

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The year I was the absolute hungriest, I used intimate photos to blackmail the untouchable billionaire heir into giving me fifty bucks. The next second, lines of floating comments appeared right before my eyes. […Talk about thinking small.] [Is the villainess stupid? Doesn’t she know to ask for more? Carter Sterling is the heir to a billionaire empire!] [Baby is still so innocent right now. Stay away from Carter, or he’ll exile you to Antarctica to count penguins!!] 1 My name is Chloe Thorne. I strongly suspected I was hallucinating from hunger. I had two pieces of evidence. 2 First piece of evidence: Three days ago, I had a wild one-night stand with Carter Sterling. Shamelessly, I took a few intimate photos as evidence, just in case Carter tried to turn around and bite me. Even more shamelessly, because I currently had zero money for food, I wanted to use those photos to ruthlessly extort him. So, I found his TikTok account. He had only posted a single video, and it was just a very basic night-running clip. Clearly just a casual post. But in it, Carter was wearing a white sleeveless muscle shirt and gray sweatpants. He was tall and lean, his skin pale, and a thin layer of sweat acted like a natural highlighter on his body. His Adam’s apple bobbed. Even though it only showed his sharp jawline for a split second, you could instantly tell he was ridiculously hot. His username was just the letter [C]. This was an assignment from our social media marketing professor—everyone had to hit 10,000 followers. Carter was clearly doing the bare minimum. And he only followed one person: Lily Brooks. My roommate, and Carter’s childhood sweetheart. My stomach growled pathetically. I dug out the most conservative photo from that night. It showed Carter’s handsome side profile, his arm draped across me, revealing a tiny hint of cleavage and a visible bite mark on his collarbone. Thanks to the camera angle, my face was completely hidden. It was highly suggestive, yet beautifully cinematic. I hit send, only for the app to notify me that I could only send one message to someone who didn’t follow me. I waited quietly for his reply. Ten minutes later. Carter’s pitch-black profile picture replied with a single question mark. Arrogant and cold. I wasn’t happy, so I dropped a not-so-subtle warning. [You wouldn’t want this photo to get leaked, would you?] Everyone on campus knew Carter and Lily were childhood sweethearts, a match made in heaven. This time, he replied instantly. He was clearly panicking. [What do you want?] [Money.] [How much?] [Fifty.] Hurry, hurry, hurry! Today was Taco Tuesday, and I was fully prepared to treat myself to a massive feast. Carter was extremely annoyed. [Fifty for a single photo. You’re quite the businesswoman.] It was my first time extorting someone, so I felt a little guilty. [Is twenty-five okay, then?] [Venmo.] I let out a massive sigh of relief. What an exhilarating psychological battle. I immediately shot him my Venmo QR code. The next second, the automated voice on my phone announced the transfer. “Venmo transfer received: Five hundred thousand dollars.” !! How much?! Was I so hungry I was hearing things? 3 Second piece of evidence: While I was extorting Carter, lines of glowing text started floating in front of my eyes. […Talk about thinking small.] [Is the villainess stupid? Doesn’t she know to ask for more? Carter Sterling is the heir to a billionaire empire!] [Baby is still so innocent right now. Stay away from Carter, or he’ll exile you to Antarctica to count penguins!!] [You’re telling me this girl, currently stuffing her face with tacos, is going to become the ultimate final boss? Yeah, right.] [Hey, even femme fatales need time to grow up!] The text was scrolling so fast it made me dizzy. It wasn’t until I dragged my exhausted body to the nearest taco truck, guarded my newfound fortune, and stuffed myself to the brim that it finally hit me. I wasn’t hallucinating from hunger. This was all real. The $500,000 Carter sent me was real. These floating comments were real. I spent the entire afternoon piecing the truth together from the chat overlay. I was living inside a romance novel. The male lead was Carter Sterling. The female lead was Lily Brooks. They were childhood sweethearts, pure and innocent, a match made by fate. And me? I was the corrupted, vicious female antagonist. Who? Me? You’re telling me that someone like me—whose wallet currently held exactly two pennies, who loved drinking canned Yoo-hoo, who had perfect grades but a gambling-addict dad, a dead mom, a sick grandma, a broken home, and the title of “Campus Queen”—would eventually turn evil out of jealousy over Lily’s perfect love life and kidnap her?! …Actually, yeah, that tracks. 4 I wiped the condensation off the bathroom mirror. A beautiful body appeared in the reflection. The only flaw was the faint bruises scattered across it. My waist was tiny, and Carter’s fingerprint bruises were still lingering on my skin. But I had gotten my revenge, too. I had bitten down hard on his shoulder. I bet there was still a perfect ring of teeth marks there right now. I remember Carter’s alcohol-fogged mind clearing up for a second at the pain. “Are you part dog?” And then he had been even rougher. Truthfully, I was punishing him for not remembering me. In my cramped, dingy apartment, I had carved out one cozy little corner. Under the warm glow of a desk lamp sat a red can of Yoo-hoo chocolate drink. I popped the tab with one hand and took a sip. The sweet, chocolatey flavor flooded my mouth. I loved it. The reason probably traced back to when I was ten, scavenging the streets for recyclables. Carter was the best-looking person I had ever seen in my life. But even better looking was the can of Yoo-hoo in his hand. Aluminum cans were worth an extra five cents compared to cardboard. I stared at him like a hawk. He raised an eyebrow. “You want this?” I nodded frantically. Carter, who had never lacked for anything, casually tossed it to me. But because of chronic malnutrition, I was tiny and weak. I couldn’t catch it. The can hit the concrete, cracking open. The sweet, milky chocolate spilled out, mixing with the muddy puddles on the ground. Carter clicked his tongue, stood up looking annoyed, and said, “Wait here.” He walked into the convenience store. I picked up the crushed can, wiped the mud off with my sleeve, and sucked up the remaining liquid. It was sweet. But not as sweet as the candies I got on New Year’s. Carter walked out of the store, paused when he saw me, and turned right back around. That day, I ended up with an entire case of Yoo-hoo. I drank it like it was water. And I even filled the empty aluminum cans with a little water before selling them to the recycling center. I made $19.31 that day. So, when I saw Carter black-out drunk at a college party, I deliberately distracted Lily, then intentionally-yet-unintentionally fanned the flames of his desire. Thinking about it now… This entire plotline… felt suspiciously like a sponsored ad for Yoo-hoo. 5 [The villainess is starting to get tangled up with Carter!] [The male lead has no self-control. He doesn’t even realize he belongs with the female lead until way later.] [Am I the only one who thinks Carter actually loved Chloe all along? I mean, if he was that drunk, he wouldn’t have been able to… perform.] [True. The plot point where Carter suddenly realizes he’s in love with Lily later always felt super forced.] [Honestly, sometimes I think Chloe’s attraction to Carter is just purely biological at this point.] Holy crap. I opened my chat thread with Carter. Half a million dollars was way too much. I only wanted fifty bucks. Who knew rich people used entirely different units of measurement? So, I sent him another, slightly more conservative photo. I was terrified of getting banned for explicit content. This time, he replied fast. [Stop messing around.] [How much do you want this time?] I decided to show some backbone. [I don’t want money this time.] [Buy one get one free?] I could practically see Carter’s sneer through the screen. My villainy meter ticked up by 1%. [Nope. I just wanted to ask if you wanted to come over and relive that night~] I even added a little tilde at the end. So manipulative. Total pick-me energy. Who knew Carter was so good at playing the game? [That’s it? You can relive it with this.] [Image attached.] I opened the photo, and my face burned completely red, the heat rushing all the way down my neck. It was a mirror selfie. Carter’s long fingers were pulling up his black shirt. His abs were deeply defined, his forearms corded with veins, and his V-line disappeared dangerously low beneath the waistband of his sweatpants, leaving entirely too much to the imagination. The sexual tension was off the charts. I went dead silent for twenty minutes. It wasn’t until I was washing my face with cold water that I checked my DMs again. Carter had sent another message: [Where’d you go? No feedback?] I closed my eyes, my face still burning. I typed back with total sincerity: [I’m sorry.] Carter absolutely lost his mind laughing. This time, he sent a voice memo. “It’s only human nature.” The live comments were losing their minds, too. [Spam ‘I’m sorry’ in the chat, immediately!] [Carter, you’re too good at baiting!] [Forget the villainess, I can’t hold back either! I’M SORRY!!!] [This is entirely Carter’s fault (crying).] [I’m sorry!] [I’m sorry!] For a solid minute, the entire chat overlay was just people apologizing. I backed out of my chat with Carter. If I kept talking to him, I was going to end up in trouble! The next second, Lily sent me a text. [Chloe, I think Carter might have a crush on someone else.] ? Was this the legendary love triangle drama? 6 My feelings toward Lily were incredibly complicated. On one hand, the only reason I became her best friend was to get closer to Carter and casually steal her man. On the other hand… I didn’t really like her. Watching her wake up every morning, stretch happily, and yell, “You can do this, Lily!” before starting her perfect, sunshine-filled day… it just made my dark, rat-like crawling through life feel incredibly pathetic. When I dragged myself back to this cramped apartment, my back aching from standing all day at my part-time jobs, I felt like a zombie. I couldn’t stand being around a human sunbeam. I hated her. But right now, she was clearly very upset. [Yesterday, when Carter was playing basketball, I saw marks on his neck.] [Huh?] I replied dismissively. Marks. That night had been so chaotic. And Carter’s technique at the beginning had been… aggressively terrible. When it hurt, my nails had definitely left some collateral damage on his neck. Lily replied instantly. [Yeah! I asked him what happened, and he totally brushed it off and said a cat scratched him.] … I pressed my lips together and quietly changed my profile picture to a fat, orange tabby cat. That was a subtle enough hint, right? [Chloe, do you think he has a secret crush? When he leaned over, I swear I saw a hickey on his collarbone…] Then, she rapid-fired several 60-second voice memos. I was way too lazy to listen to them. So I hit her with the ultimate lazy responses: [Wow, crazy.] [Omg.] [It is what it is.] Eventually, Lily’s emotional spiral stabilized. Then she sent me a digital invitation. [It’s my birthday pool party on Saturday! You have to come!] 7 The birthday party. Lily hosted it at her family’s massive estate. There was a huge pool, and plenty of guys and girls were walking around in revealing swimsuits. Girls were sunbathing on giant inflatable swans, while a few guys were swimming laps like dolphins. It felt like I had walked onto the set of a reality dating show. Lily was wearing a pink bikini. Her skin was flawless, her long hair reaching her waist, the wet strands clinging to her skin in a way that was innocent but seductive. I, on the other hand, was just wearing denim cut-offs and a plain white ribbed tank top. The comments started rolling: [Huh? Did the villainess change her strategy? I thought she was going to wear a bright red bikini to steal the spotlight.] [Ngl, Chloe’s body is so insane, even I want to bury my face in her chest.] [Carter really won the lottery.] [The villainess is stupid but genuinely gorgeous. We love a beautiful queen.] I had been feeling pretty depressed lately. I always thought that despite starving as a kid, having my recycling money stolen by my gambling-addict dad, and suffering from chronic malnutrition… the fact that I still managed to grow up with a tiny waist, long legs, and a stacked chest meant I possessed protagonist-level genetics. Turns out, I was just the villainess. It practically shattered my worldview. Because of that, I had lost all interest in showing off in a bikini. Meanwhile, Lily was sitting on an inflatable flamingo, splashing and laughing brightly with Mason Hayes. But her big, round eyes kept darting up toward the second-floor balcony. I followed her gaze. Carter was standing up there, dressed entirely in black. His sleeveless shirt showed off his incredibly toned arms. His long fingers held a glass of champagne as he stared down at the party with cool indifference. Perhaps he felt my intense staring. He tilted his head slightly, and our eyes locked. I immediately looked down and started picking at my nails. When people feel awkward, they suddenly become very busy. Wow, this chair is made of such… chair material. Suddenly, Lily let out a blood-curdling scream. She had fallen into the water. Mason, who was right next to her, immediately dove under and dragged her to the edge. “Lily! Are you okay?!” Mason sounded frantic. Lily coughed violently, her eyes red. She had definitely swallowed some pool water. Carter hurried down the stairs. The moment he crouched by the edge of the pool, Lily tried to throw her arms around his neck. But Carter smoothly leaned back, and Lily grabbed nothing but air. “Carter, I was so scared. I thought I was never going to see you again,” she sobbed, her voice soft and fragile. Mason, standing awkwardly to the side, let out a bitter laugh, trying to play it cool. “Took you long enough to get down here, Carter.” But Mason’s fists were clenched tight at his sides. Tsk. As expected of the tragic second male lead. In the hierarchy of unrequited love, he was definitely the valedictorian of Simp University. The chat overlay was moving at lightspeed. [Stop, my heart is breaking for the second male lead.] [Mason looks like a sad, wet puppy.] [The second male lead belongs to the readers! But Lily wants both the male lead AND the second male lead. Greedy!] [Just saying… Lily was in the shallow end. If she just stood up, she wouldn’t have drowned.] [You can drown in the shallow end too! Let it be known!]

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My childhood sweetheart, born into the same old-money elite circle as me, fell in love with a poor, innocent damsel in distress from the wrong side of the tracks. To marry her, he withstood the pressure of his entire family and broke off his engagement with me. Heartbroken, I went abroad to further my studies. By the time I returned, he and Lily Evans had been married for almost two years. And I had long since moved on. But at my welcome-home party, Preston Harrington—the man who once fought the entire world just to be with Lily—looked at the woman he had fought so hard to marry with icy disgust. With a chilling tone, he snapped: “Didn’t I tell you to stay at home? Why are you out here embarrassing me?” 1 When I returned to the States, my close friends threw a massive, luxurious welcome-home party for me. To my surprise, Preston Harrington showed up. Seven years ago, he was so blinded by his love for Lily Evans that he insisted on breaking our perfectly matched engagement. In front of all our elders, he had declared: If he couldn’t marry Lily, he would rather marry a dog than marry me. Those words were so humiliating that they completely shattered the decades-long friendship between our two families. That day, I finally grew tired of it all. I cried in front of my parents for an hour, begging them to call off the engagement. I told them I didn’t want Preston anymore. I didn’t want to marry him. My parents looked at me with aching hearts and finally relented. They went to the Harringtons’ estate and had a closed-door meeting for an hour. The final verdict was spun not as Preston rejecting me, but as the Sterling family refusing to marry off their daughter. With things escalating to that point, the engagement was voided. While our families didn’t completely sever ties and become sworn enemies, the relationship undeniably froze over. Shortly after, I left for Paris to study. Until today, when I finally returned. I looked at Preston. Compared to seven years ago, he had grown taller and much more composed. His handsome face carried an aristocratic, aloof coldness, and his dark eyes were fixed intently on me. No one had told me Preston would be here. I turned to look at my best friend, Sophie, who was hosting the event. Sophie hurriedly waved her hands to clear her name, explaining, “I didn’t invite him, Claire! I have no idea where Preston heard you were coming back, but he volunteered to take over and host this welcome-home party for you.” She guiltily added a redundant disclaimer: “It really wasn’t me, I swear.” I didn’t say a word. Instead, Preston chuckled. His tone was gentle, exactly like it used to be back before our fallout, when he would pick me up for school every morning. “Claire, it’s been so many years. I was young and reckless back then, and I handled things terribly. I hurt you. So today, I brazenly took over as host because I wanted to formally apologize.” He paused, looking directly into my eyes, and continued, “Do you still hold a grudge about the past?” Look at how he phrased that. If I said I still held a grudge, it would make me look petty and unable to let him go. So, I looked up and gave him a dazzling, magnanimous smile. “You said it yourself—it’s in the past.” We all ran in the same circles, and it really had been a long time. He meant absolutely nothing to me now. I picked up a glass of champagne and smiled breezily. “Sophie mentioned that you and Lily got married over a year ago. I haven’t congratulated you yet. Here’s to you.” His expression remained flat. Logically, having successfully married the girl of his dreams, even with his naturally stoic personality, he shouldn’t be looking this indifferent. Before I could even process his reaction, he picked up his glass and downed it in one go. It didn’t look like he was accepting a blessing; it looked like he was drowning his sorrows. But I couldn’t be bothered to care. Reuniting with old friends naturally led to endless catching up. Since I was the guest of honor, everyone hyped me up, and the topics revolved entirely around me. Someone asked how many boyfriends I had in France. Someone brought up my global art exhibition tour. Another friend complained, half-jokingly, “Seriously, Claire, why do you have to be so overachieving? Tickets to your gallery exhibitions are impossible to get, and you’ve opened so many galleries worldwide. My old man constantly compares me to you, sighing about how I only know how to chase celebrities, shop for Birkins, and race sports cars.” I laughed. “It’s just a hobby.” Preston, who had been sitting silently on the sidelines, smiled. “After all these years, you’ve finally learned to be humble.” His tone… how should I put it? It was as natural as an old friend’s, laced with an intimate familiarity. It was as if we had never had our messy falling out, as if he had never said those agonizingly cruel things to me just to defend Lily. I didn’t quite know how to respond. I wasn’t sure if it was just my imagination, but his tone felt… almost flirtatious. While I was still debating how to reply, he added, “I went to see your exhibition, Dance of Shadows. It was breathtaking.” Now it wasn’t just me; even the friends sitting around us sensed something was off. They fell silent, their gazes darting subtly between me and Preston. My expression didn’t change as I politely replied, “Oh. Thank you.” After a brief pause, I jokingly reminded him, “Did you go see it with Lily? Speaking of which, why didn’t she come today? I haven’t seen her in years, and we are old high school classmates after all.” His expression cooled again, and he said dismissively, “Oh, she’s busy at home.” He said it as if he were talking about an irrelevant stranger. I had no idea why he was using such a dismissive tone and attitude when referring to the woman he had once loved so recklessly, but I had no desire to get tangled in his mess. So, I just let out a polite laugh and steered the conversation elsewhere. It wasn’t until the party ended and we walked out to the club’s lobby that we saw Lily sitting on the lounge sofas. Her eyes were glued to the private VIP elevator, her expression a mix of anxiousness, distress, and insecurity. The moment the elevator doors dinged open, she shot up from the sofa. It looked like she had been sitting there the entire time, just waiting for us to come down. Everyone paused. She tried her best to force a smile, scanning the group until her eyes landed on me standing next to Preston. Instantly, the color drained from her face. She stared at me, looking completely crestfallen and panicked, as if she were facing her greatest enemy. I found the whole thing baffling. 2 Lily had changed a lot. I remembered the first time I saw her. It was the second semester of our sophomore year when she transferred to our prep school. Back then, she stood at the front of the classroom wearing a faded uniform. She was so thin she looked malnourished, the clothes hanging loosely off her frame. Her features were plain and unremarkable, and her face was painted with awkward, nervous tension. Our homeroom teacher, however, smiled brightly. “This is Lily Evans, who consistently ranks at the very top of the statewide standardized tests. Let’s make her feel welcome.” A silence fell over the room as countless assessing gazes landed on Lily. We were at an elite, ultra-exclusive private academy. Everyone came from old money or massive wealth. Grades were absolutely not the only ticket to acceptance here—let alone someone with Lily’s unrefined, shabby appearance. I felt a bit of pity for her at the time, so I smiled and was the first to start clapping. Only then did scattered applause ripple through the classroom, eventually growing until it filled the room. The teacher shot me a grateful smile, pointed at me, and told Lily, “That’s our class president, Claire Sterling. If you need any help, you can go to her.” Despite the teacher’s words, Lily never once came to me for help. When Lily transferred in, the only empty desk was the one next to Preston Harrington. So, Lily became Preston’s desk-mate. I don’t know if the feelings that eventually betrayed me started budding right there. For example, because Lily’s family was so poor, she suffered from severe hypoglycemia and anemia. Once, during morning study hall, she suddenly fainted. It was Preston who scooped her up and carried her to the nurse’s office. Another time, Preston’s mother came back from a trip to Belgium and brought a mountain of gifts for both me and Preston. When she told me to pick first, Preston, who was standing nearby, grabbed a box of artisanal chocolates and said, “I’ll take this box of candy.” I was confused at the time because Preston despised anything sweet, and I had never known him to have a sudden fondness for chocolate. Later, he even asked me for my private chef’s pastry recipes. I thought it was too much of a hassle, so I just had my chef bake the pastries and sent them directly to him. Back then, I genuinely thought Preston’s palate had just changed. It wasn’t until later, when I saw the artisanal chocolate wrappers and the pastries my chef had made sitting on Lily’s desk, that it clicked. The one who loved chocolate was Lily. The one who loved sweet pastries was Lily. I convinced myself that it was just Preston’s way of looking out for his struggling desk-mate—even though Preston had never been the kind, meddlesome type to go out of his way to “save” anyone. Truthfully, it wasn’t that I never had suspicions. It was just that Lily was so incredibly plain that I never entertained the thought that Preston would betray me and fall for her. After all, I was exceptional. I was the prettiest girl in the entire academy. Back when Gossip Girl was at the peak of its popularity, people affectionately gave me the nickname “Queen C.” Not because I was a schemer, but because I had the perfect family, perfect grades, and perfect popularity. How could I have possibly imagined that Preston Harrington would betray me and fall for Lily Evans? She walked over and offered a polite smile, greeting me, “Claire, you’re back?” After speaking, her eyes shifted hesitantly between me and Preston. The probing, suspicious nature of her gaze made me deeply uncomfortable, and I frowned slightly in displeasure. Preston spoke first, his tone freezing cold: “What are you doing here?” Lily carefully gauged his mood, her smile turning into a pathetic, fawning attempt to please him. “I was out shopping. The club owner mentioned you and your friends were hosting a welcome-home party for Claire here today, so I thought I’d wait and we could go home together.” The excuse was full of holes. She then held up the shopping bag in her hand to show Preston. “The manager here heard I was in the lobby, so he specially brought over two bottles of wine. He said it was a token of respect for Mr. and Mrs. Harrington.” She heavily emphasized the words “Mrs. Harrington,” as if trying to assert her territory. Preston, who had already been looking cold, furrowed his brows in deep irritation at those words. Behind me, I heard a friend fail to stifle a quiet snort of laughter. Given the Harrington family’s status, let alone a mere floor manager, even the owner of this ultra-exclusive club would have to book an appointment half a month in advance just to get a meeting with Preston. Yet here she was, the wife of Preston Harrington, treating two bottles of wine from a manager like a rare treasure, presenting them to him like an offering. It was undeniably tacky and completely beneath their social standing. It was obvious that humiliating incidents like this had happened many, many times over the year and a half Lily had been married to Preston. Because Preston’s voice was filled with sheer impatience, completely devoid of any politeness: “Didn’t I tell you to stay at home? Why are you out here embarrassing me?” Behind me, someone laughed out loud. Lily’s already pale face instantly turned paper-white. She looked at Preston in total panic. She had no idea why Preston had suddenly snapped, nor did she know what she had done wrong. No one explained the reason to her, and no one taught her how to act. Everyone was just laughing at her lack of class and unrefined behavior. I, however, was quite surprised by Preston’s reaction. I instinctively turned to look at him. His face was stoic, completely unmoved by the suppressed laughter of the crowd, as if the person being openly mocked wasn’t the wife he had sacrificed so much to marry. I froze for a second. He… didn’t used to be like this. Back then, because she didn’t fit in, Lily had faced her fair share of collective ostracization in class. Later, when Preston demanded to break our engagement for her, I had bullied Lily too. But every single time, Preston would step right in front of Lily, taking her side and protecting her fiercely. Yet now, standing here looking down at the woman in front of him, his expression was icy, and deep within his eyes was a barely concealed layer of exhaustion and impatience. He was like a completely different person from the boy he used to be. How could he be disgusted by Lily? Had he forgotten exactly what he put me through just to defend her? 3 The first time Preston ever stood up for Lily was during French class. For the students in our circle, out of all the subjects, the one we navigated with the most effortless grace was French. Since we were toddlers, our families had hired resident native tutors. Our daily communication at home was often entirely in French. From grammar to pronunciation, we sounded like Parisian aristocrats. It was just one of our basic, required life skills. That day, the French teacher called on Lily to read a passage. The moment she stood up and uttered her first syllable, murmurs rippled through the classroom. By the time she was halfway through, someone finally couldn’t hold back and let out a snicker. There was no denying her grades were phenomenal, but having never received proper private education, her pronunciation was terrible and painfully awkward. The laughter was contagious, slowly growing into a loud uproar until Lily just stood there, unable to make another sound. The French teacher sighed helplessly, told her to sit down, and desperately tried to change the subject. After class, Sophie intentionally walked up to Lily’s desk, loudly mimicking her broken pronunciation while speaking French to her friends. Her impression was spot-on, and the people around her burst into laughter. Lily sat at her desk with her head bowed, her bangs falling over her face. From my angle, I couldn’t see her expression, but her frail silhouette and tense shoulders radiated quiet humiliation. I don’t know why, but I suddenly lost interest in the whole spectacle. I was about to call out to Sophie and tell her to stop bullying the new girl. But before I could speak, Preston—who historically hated meddling in other people’s business—moved first. He had been sleeping with his head on his desk. Hearing Sophie’s mockery, he sat up with a blank expression. He grabbed his heavy, original English copy of Harry Potter and slammed the thick spine against his desk. The loud thud cut through the noise. In the sudden silence, he shot an icy glare at Sophie, who was still laughing at Lily, and said coldly: “Shut up. You’re giving me a headache.” Sophie’s smile froze on her face. The classroom fell into a dead silence. My eyes fell on Preston. I paused, then looked at Sophie with a warm smile, breaking the suffocating awkwardness. I said, “Sophie, class is about to start.” Sophie turned back and gave me a silent “zip-it” gesture. Taking the out I gave her, she nodded and pulled her friends back to their seats, obediently saying, “Got it, Claire.” Out of the corner of my eye, I glanced at Lily. She turned her head, her eyes shining brightly as she looked at Preston, whispering something to him. I figured she was probably thanking him. But Preston just looked bored, showing no emotional reaction at all. Later that day, after lunch, I ran into Lily again in the library. The library was always empty at noon because most people were eating, napping, or catching up on the latest Upper East Side gossip. She was sitting in a hidden corner by the window. I could hear her struggling, repeating after a small MP3 player, desperately trying to practice her accent. I didn’t pay it much mind and rested my head on a desk on the other side, preparing to take a nap. Until I saw Preston. Still carrying that effortlessly handsome, careless aura, holding his copy of Harry Potter, he walked in and didn’t stop until he reached Lily. Standing beside her, he said, “Practicing like that isn’t going to work.” He casually pulled out a chair and sat next to her. Flipping open his book, he pointed at a sentence and said, “Read this line for me.” Encouraged by him, Lily’s face turned bright red. After holding her breath for a long time, she quietly and haltingly read the sentence aloud. “Mr. Dursley might have been drifting into an uneasy sleep, but the cat on the wall outside was showing no sign of sleepiness.” Preston’s fingertip tapped on the word “drifting.” I listened as he patiently taught Lily how to produce a beautiful, flawless British accent. The library was perfectly quiet. Sunlight poured through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the tiny golden specks of dust dancing in the air. The two of them, bathed in the warm light, looked like a painting. Of course, up to this point, none of this was Lily’s fault. She was merely passively accepting Preston’s help. That is, until the very end, when I saw her staring at Preston’s face, turning progressively redder, before whispering with deep envy: “I really, really envy Claire Sterling.” It was obvious what she was envious of. From that exact moment onward, I started having a serious problem with Lily Evans. 4 Naturally, no one could tell I disliked Lily. I had always been easygoing and detached. Even though the students in my class looked up to me, I never engaged in petty cliques or intentionally ostracized anyone. My first real move against her was during P.E. class. The boys and girls separated to practice tennis, and everyone had to pick their own partners. Unsurprisingly, Lily was the last one left. She stood awkwardly in the middle of the court holding her racket, her face burning red as she looked around, the absolute picture of a helpless, pitiful victim. I smiled, walked over, extended my hand, and said, “Let’s pair up.” She looked incredibly flattered, staring at me in shock as she stuttered, “M-me?” I nodded with a warm smile. “Yes, you.” She smiled back, looking incredibly grateful. Thinking back to that scene in the library between her and Preston, I wiped the smile off my face the second I turned around. With a blank expression, I thought to myself: Let’s see if you’re still smiling in a few minutes. Lily didn’t manage to return a single one of my serves. I played her like a dog. Every time I served, I aimed the ball exactly where she couldn’t reach it. She scrambled pathetically, giving it her all, running left and right, but all she did was end up fetching the balls. While picking up the tennis balls, she kept apologizing to me: “I-I’m so sorry, I’m just really bad at this.” She didn’t realize I was messing with her on purpose. It wasn’t until students from other courts started gathering around us that I heard someone whisper behind me, “What’s up with Queen C? I’ve never seen her haze someone like this.” “What did the new girl do to piss off Claire?” I smiled, pretending I didn’t hear a thing. My serves became even more vicious, until Lily, desperately lunging to return a ball, stumbled and crashed hard onto the court. I stood exactly where I was, offering a completely unapologetic apology: “Oh my, I’m so sorry about that.” She kept her head down, clutching her scraped, red knee, and whispered, “I-It’s okay.” I smiled sweetly and continued, “You really are terrible at this. When we do the group matches later, please try not to drag me down.” Lily kept apologizing while awkwardly struggling to stand up. Everyone around was just watching the show—until Preston walked over. He shot me a cold look, took the racket from the teary-eyed Lily’s hand, and glared at me. He smirked and said, “She’s bad at tennis. I’ll practice with you instead, Claire.” Preston absolutely destroyed me on the court. To make it “fair,” he even played left-handed. He had won the Junior National Tennis Championship when he was twelve. I had only taken a few years of private lessons just so I’d have a shared hobby to talk to him about. My amateur skills were a joke compared to his. I stubbornly forced myself to rally with him for thirty minutes, barely returning a fraction of his shots. But it was fine. I didn’t have to fetch the balls. Every time I missed, one of the boys who had a crush on me would scramble to pick it up and place it right in my hand. Eventually, the pain in my wrist became too much. If someone hadn’t gasped and rushed forward to catch me, I would have dropped to my knees in agony. Preston was completely unfazed. He stared at me with eyes like ice and said coldly, “With your skills, Claire, even without someone dragging you down, you could never win.” After saying that, he turned to Lily, waved her over, and said, “Come here. We’re leaving.” Lily looked at him like a damsel looking at her knight in shining armor. She nodded obediently and said, “Okay.” After that, a few classmates helped me to the nurse’s office. Once my wrist was wrapped, Sophie stayed by my side. Sophie was usually carefree and oblivious, but even she sensed something was horribly wrong that day. She asked me, “Claire… has Preston lost his mind?” It was a prophecy. Everything he did after that—wasn’t it all complete madness? But looking at him now… how hilarious. He was actually regretting it. What an absolute joke.

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