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On the day of my wedding, I knew perfectly well that the cup of chamomile tea my half-sister handed me was laced with sedatives. Still, I smiled and drank every last drop. I watched her eagerly slip into my custom bridal gown and climb into the wedding limousine belonging to Tristan Vance, the golden boy of Manhattan’s elite. In my previous life, I woke up hysterical. I tore apart her innocent facade, ruined her reputation, and had her banished from New York. Meanwhile, I married Tristan. Using my father’s authority as a Four-Star General at the Pentagon, I helped Tristan wash his family’s dirty money clean and pushed him to the absolute pinnacle of power. It wasn’t until I was lying on my deathbed after a critical surgery that the truth came out. Tristan dismissed my doctors, wrapped his arm around my sister, and held their one-month-old son. He looked down at me with cold, calculating eyes. “Chloe, if it weren’t for the Sterling family’s military connections, I would have sent you to your grave years ago for the way you treated Harper. Now that your father is under federal investigation and can’t even save himself, it’s time you give up your seat.” My sister ground the heel of her stiletto into my fingers, her smile twisted and cruel. “Sister, the empire you built? My baby and I will enjoy it to the fullest. From now on, the title and glory of Mrs. Vance are finally returning to their rightful owner.” Amidst the agonizing pain and soul-crushing betrayal, I took my last breath. Then, I opened my eyes. I was reborn, right back on the morning of my wedding. …… Outside the window, the faint, melodic notes of the wedding march drifted into the room. I sat up, waited in the silence for about fifteen minutes, and then massaged my temples before pushing the door open. My mother was just turning to walk down the hall, the unshed tears still glistening in the corners of her eyes. She looked up, freezing when she saw me leaning against the doorframe. A loud gasp escaped her lips. Hearing the noise, my father turned around and froze. “Chloe? Didn’t you just get in the car?” He pointed a shaking finger toward the front gates in absolute shock. “Then who the hell was wearing the wedding dress and just got driven away?” I placed a hand over my chest, feigning panic and confusion. “No way… Last night, Harper told me how much she was going to miss me. She brought me a cup of warm chamomile tea. After I drank it, my head felt so heavy, and I slept right through until just now…” The joyous, celebratory atmosphere of the estate instantly plummeted to freezing. The gathered high-society guests exchanged subtle, knowing glances. My mother’s chest heaved violently. She nearly collapsed before her voice rang out like a whip, “Bring Ruby to me right now!” Ruby, the mistress, was dragged out of the crowd by my father’s military aides. She was clutching a designer suitcase, clearly having tried to slip away in the chaos. “No wonder you were crying harder than me earlier,” my mother sneered. “I thought you were actually heartbroken to see my daughter leave. Turns out, you were crying tears of joy because you personally sent your own daughter into the Vance family’s limousine!” Ruby’s eyes darted around nervously, but she forced a brazen look onto her face. “What do you mean, Madam? The eldest Miss overslept and missed her own wedding. How can you pin this on my poor Harper?” Before she could finish her sentence, the estate butler hurried over, his voice hushed but urgent. “General, Madam, the motorcade from the Hayes family has arrived at the gates for the Second Miss.” My mother’s face was covered in frost. “Which car did Harper get into? Chase her down and bring her back!” A cold smirk ghosted across my lips. It had been almost half an hour. By now, she was definitely already inside Tristan Vance’s Upper East Side penthouse. And knowing Tristan, he had probably been unable to keep his hands off her the second the doors closed. My eyes swept over the poorly concealed triumph at the corners of Ruby’s mouth. Everything clicked into place. This mother and daughter had played a brilliant hand. Years ago, Ruby was planted by my father’s political rivals. She drugged him, got pregnant with Harper, and my father—to protect his military reputation—had no choice but to let them into the estate. Now, Harper was using the exact same playbook. She drugged me, swapped our places, and stole my groom. Even if I realized it now, the damage was done. The rice was already cooked. There were only two choices laid out before me: swallow this ultimate humiliation, or take her place and marry into the Hayes family. The Hayes family wasn’t old money or a massive political dynasty, but Carter Hayes was young, fiercely capable, and already my father’s most trusted Colonel. His military record was decorated with honors, and his future in Washington was limitless. My father had personally arranged Harper’s marriage to him because he admired Carter’s steadfast and resilient character. But Harper had stolen the sky and swapped the sun. She took the billionaire heir she coveted and tossed the military arrangement she despised right into my lap. If I accepted this, within half a day, the news would spread across all of New York: the eldest Sterling daughter was tossed aside like garbage by the Vance family, forcing her to marry the Hayes boy instead. I would become the laughingstock of the entire elite social circle. 【Chapter 2】 In my past life, Harper had relied on Tristan’s backing to brazenly steal my marriage. At the time, with my parents’ furious support, I led our security detail to crash the lavish Hamptons wedding venue. Tristan, terrified of my father’s authority in the Armed Forces, flat-out denied knowing about the bride swap. He stood by and watched as my father’s men dragged Harper away in tears. Naturally, I proceeded with the ceremony. After the wedding, Tristan treated me like a queen. I had been naive enough to believe he was genuinely kept in the dark that day. Little did I know, he and Harper had been sleeping together for months. He was simply waiting for the perfect moment, using my family’s military influence to expand his illicit empire, before mercilessly throwing us into an abyss of despair. “The Second Miss isn’t in her room!” the butler reported urgently. “The wedding dress sent by the Hayes family was left on her bed, but all of her personal belongings and passports are gone!” He handed over a sealed manila envelope. “We found this hidden in a false bottom of the Second Miss’s drawer.” My father’s face was stormy as he tore it open. Inside were several passionate, sickeningly sweet love letters written in Tristan’s own handwriting, along with pieces of breathtakingly expensive jewelry. The veins on my father’s forehead throbbed. He violently slammed the envelope right into Ruby’s face. “This is your precious daughter! Seducing her own brother-in-law! You and your spawn have dragged the Sterling family name through the mud!” Harper had obviously treasured those tokens of affection. But the moment I woke up, I knew exactly where to find them and expose them to the light of day. I wanted everyone to see clearly that they had been carrying on an illicit affair long before today. Just as expected, whispers instantly erupted among the high-society guests, their voices dripping with disdain. “The daughter of a homewrecker. The General showing them mercy and letting them stay was already a massive favor, and she repays it by drugging the rightful heiress? Stealing a marriage to climb the Vance social ladder? She’s begging for death!” “That Vance boy is a piece of trash, too. He was engaged to the eldest Miss Sterling, yet he still messed around with that unpresentable side-piece. Shows exactly what kind of character he has!” Ruby calculated the time in her head. Assuming the deed was already done and the wedding finalized, she actually straightened her spine and looked my father in the eye. “General, Harper is still the Second Miss of the Sterling family! Why not just give them your blessing? It would make things much easier to explain to the Vance family…” My mother trembled with rage. She raised her hand and delivered a sharp, echoing slap across Ruby’s face. “Give them my blessing?! You and your bastard daughter use vile, disgusting tricks to steal my daughter’s marriage, and you have the audacity to ask for my blessing?!” “Guards! Lock this woman up. We are handing her over to the NYPD later today!” Ruby collapsed onto the floor, screeching at the top of her lungs, “You wouldn’t dare touch me! I am Tristan Vance’s mother-in-law now! When my son-in-law finds out, he won’t let any of you get away with this!” “I only have one daughter, and her name is Chloe,” my father said, his voice dropping to a glacial chill. “Taking you in all these years was the absolute limit of my mercy. Since you dared to plot against my real daughter, don’t blame me for what happens next.” He waved his hand. Two military aides immediately dragged Ruby away without an ounce of hesitation. 【Chapter 3】 The butler looked conflicted. “General, the Hayes motorcade is still waiting at the gates. They are asking what time they can come in to receive the bride.” My father’s face was dark as iron. He spoke with absolute finality. “Gather the men. We are heading to the Vance estate! We will tie that wretched girl up, drag her back here, and force her to marry into the Hayes family immediately!” “Dad, don’t.” I took a step forward, calmly placing a hand on his arm. “If Tristan Vance’s heart belongs to Harper, then I, Chloe Sterling, have zero interest in fighting over a two-timing, unfaithful piece of trash.” My eyes were steady and resolute. “Carter Hayes is a man you mentored yourself. He is brilliant, capable, and fiercely loyal. If we reject his motorcade today because of this mess, how will he and the Hayes family ever show their faces in society again? I am willing to marry him.” My mother grabbed my hand in shock. “Chloe, don’t speak out of anger. How could you possibly…” “Mom, I’m not acting out of spite.” I squeezed her hand back. “Carter is young and promising. He’s climbed the ranks through his own military merit, and his future is bright. I trust my father’s judgment, and I trust Carter’s future.” Hearing this, the surrounding guests looked at me with deep admiration and respect. “The eldest Miss Sterling truly has an incredible grace and vision. So rare to see!” “Compared to her, that illegitimate daughter who uses dirty tricks is like mud next to a diamond.” My mother pulled me into a heartbroken embrace, her voice choking with sobs. “I just don’t want you to be wronged…” My father took a deep, shuddering breath. “That Vance boy dared to humiliate my daughter like this. From this day forward, he can forget about getting even a shred of protection from me! Those gray-area businesses he runs on the coasts? Let’s see how well they do without my cover!” His tone was ruthless. “But right now, I must go to the Vance family and demand an explanation. Otherwise, that arrogant punk will really think the Sterling family is weak and easy to manipulate!” By the time our convoy arrived at the Vance family’s breathtaking Upper East Side penthouse, the wedding reception was in full swing. The elite guests paused, turning their heads and whispering furiously as our imposing group stormed into the ballroom. “Isn’t that the eldest Miss Sterling? Wasn’t she supposed to be today’s bride? Why is she just walking in now?” “Wait, then who was the woman who exchanged rings with Mr. Vance and was just taken upstairs?” An uncle who had accompanied us let out a cold scoff. “Just a bastard daughter born from a mistress. She used underhanded drugs to steal her older sister’s wedding!” The ballroom erupted into a tidal wave of shocked gasps and gossip. As the commotion grew louder, Tristan finally descended the grand staircase. Seeing me, he immediately took the offensive, scolding me before I could speak: “Chloe, haven’t you made enough of a scene? You can’t blame Harper for all of this!” “If you want to blame someone, blame the fact that your family scheduled your weddings on the exact same day. She simply got confused and got into the wrong limousine. And I,” he paused, his eyes completely devoid of guilt, “had a few too many drinks earlier. I was caught up in the moment and mistook her for you. What’s done is done. I have to take responsibility for her now.” He looked down at me from the stairs. “But don’t worry. With my status in New York, I won’t just toss you aside. I’ll make sure there’s always a place for you by my side.” 【Chapter 4】 I almost wanted to clap and cheer for his shameless, breathtaking audacity. Leave a place for me by his side? What century did he think we were living in? Did he really think he was some king who could have a wife and a harem? If it weren’t for the massive shadow of the Sterling family protecting him, his shady, borderline-illegal empire would have been eradicated by the feds ages ago. He wouldn’t even have the platform to stand here and spew this garbage. Did he seriously believe the daughter of a high-ranking General would settle for being his side-piece? My father was so furious he actually laughed. “Tristan Vance, say that one more time? You want my daughter to be your mistress? Who the hell gave you the nerve?! Have you forgotten who keeps you out of federal prison?!” Just then, Mr. Vance—Tristan’s father—hurried out of the VIP lounge. “General, what’s all this…” He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw me. “Chloe? What are you doing down here?” My mother violently threw the stack of love letters directly at his chest. “Read them yourself, Richard Vance! Your precious son has been sleeping with that illegitimate wretch behind our backs. They conspired to drug my daughter and steal her wedding! Today, your family owes the Sterlings an explanation!” Mr. Vance’s face turned a sickening shade of purple. He raised his heavy walking cane and cracked it viciously across Tristan’s back. “You ungrateful bastard! Explain yourself! What is the meaning of this?!” Before Tristan could defend himself, Harper stumbled out of the elevator. She was clutching a silk bathrobe that wasn’t even fully buttoned, tears streaming down her face as she threw herself in front of Tristan to shield him. “Mr. Vance, it’s not Tristan’s fault! It’s all my fault. I just couldn’t control my feelings for him. If you have to hit someone, hit me!” She then turned her tear-streaked face to my father. Her voice was trembling, but every word was a calculated trap. “Dad, it’s already done. If you make a massive scene, the Sterling family’s military reputation will be ruined. Think of the press. You’ll lose face…” My mother’s fingertips shook with rage. “You didn’t care about the Sterling family’s face when you drugged my daughter and stole her groom! And now that we are demanding justice, we are the ones ruining the reputation?! You shameless little bitch!” I stepped forward, my voice eerily calm. “Harper, if you had just been honest with me from the beginning, I might have simply let you have him. Why did you have to use such dirty, underhanded tactics on the morning of my wedding? Did you want to humiliate me, or did you want to turn the entire Sterling family into a joke across New York?” Her face went stark white as I hit the nail on the head. “Tristan and I are truly in love…” she whimpered, looking up at Tristan like a helpless doe. The elite crowd wasn’t stupid. They saw right through the theatrics and began whispering loudly: “Like mother, like daughter! Her mother climbed into the General’s bed using dirty tricks, and the daughter is even better at it!” “If she were my daughter, I’d break her legs!” Someone even called out sarcastically to Mr. Vance: “Richard, if your son pulls a stunt like this and your family doesn’t make it right today, you’re going to have a very hard time doing business in this city.” 【Chapter 5】 Mr. Vance looked ready to die of humiliation. He threw his cane to the marble floor with a loud clatter and delivered two stinging, back-to-back slaps right across Tristan’s face. “You piece of trash! Get on your knees and apologize to your father-in-law, your mother-in-law, and to Chloe! Then we are re-doing this ceremony, and you are marrying Chloe today!” Tristan took the blows without flinching. When he looked at me, his eyes were dripping with raw, undisguised malice—the exact same look he gave me right before I died in my past life. In his twisted mind, I was the villain of this story, not the victim. He let out a dark sneer. “Dad, the only woman in my heart is Harper. Chloe is a stuck-up, arrogant princess. I’m sick of just looking at her, and I will never marry her!” “If she’s willing to lower her head and be obedient, maybe I’ll take her out to social events once in a while. Otherwise, let me make this clear right now: I will never give her the title of my wife! I’d love to see who in New York would dare take a woman that I, Tristan Vance, have publicly discarded!” The sheer audacity of his words left even the hardened socialites in the room gasping in horror. No one could comprehend where this man—who relied entirely on the Sterling family’s military umbrella to survive the criminal underworld—was getting the courage to act so arrogant. Ever since Mr. Vance retired, Tristan had become increasingly reckless. He stole territory from rival syndicates and offended countless dangerous men. It was me who begged my father to deploy resources to save his life when the cartels came for him. Tristan had literally dropped to his knees in front of my father, swearing on his life that he would never betray me. But now, with his wings slightly hardened and a little bit of street cred to his name, he dared to trample on the very people who built him! Seeing my silence, Tristan thought I was intimidated. He pushed his luck even further: “Since you clearly can’t let me go, I’ll give you one last chance. We can do it the old-fashioned way. You can move in as my mistress.” “Pour a drink for Harper, apologize properly to the true Mrs. Vance, and if you behave yourself, I might consider letting you bear one of my children.” The ballroom erupted into sheer pandemonium. Even the elders of the Vance family looked away in absolute disgust at his shamelessness. My father’s rage had reached its absolute peak, and it suddenly settled into a terrifying, dead calm. He spoke slowly, his voice echoing in the massive room: “Mr. Vance, you certainly think highly of yourself. The Sterling family cannot reach your lofty heights. And my daughter will certainly not accept your generous offer of being a mistress.” He turned his piercing gaze onto Harper. “As for this wretch, as of today, I, Arthur Sterling, have no second daughter! From this second onward, Harper is completely severed from the Sterling family! Whatever she does, whether it brings glory or ruin, it is solely the Vance family’s burden to bear!” 【Chapter 6】 Harper forced a few fake tears to fall. “Dad, you always favored my sister anyway. Now you finally get what you want.” “But Tristan and I are truly in love. Sister is the real third party here.” She turned her chin up to look at me. “I’m going to post on Instagram and let all of New York know that Tristan dumped you! Don’t come crawling back begging for him later.” I raised a hand to stop my father, who looked ready to explode. “Don’t worry,” I said smoothly. “Only you would treat a piece of garbage like a prized treasure. Oh, and by the way, the three trucks of dowry sitting in the motorcade outside? I’m taking every single box back.” Harper instantly lost her mind, shrieking, “That’s my dowry! You have no right to take it!” I let out a cold laugh. “Your pitiful share is still sitting at the estate. I can be generous and have a servant drop it off for you later. But my belongings? Don’t even think about touching a single thread.” She lunged at me, screaming and trying to tear at my clothes. “You bitch, those are mine!” My mother moved lightning fast, shoving her hard in the chest. My father immediately signaled his military aides to go start the trucks. Tristan snapped his fingers. Instantly, dozens of burly, suited bodyguards swarmed forward, forming a massive wall around my family. “Nobody moves,” Tristan sneered. “I gave you an out, and you threw it in my face. Since that dowry followed Harper’s car here, it belongs to her. If you try to take it today, you’re declaring war on me!” Faced with this mafia-style intimidation, my father didn’t even blink. “Tristan Vance, touch me and see what happens.” Tristan laughed like a maniac. “Old man, don’t think those stars on your shoulder mean everything! If I didn’t keep the underground in check, those cartel psychos would have bombed your Pentagon office by now! If you know what’s good for you, leave your oldest daughter here for my bed. Otherwise, none of you are walking out of those doors!” My father’s chest heaved violently at the disrespect, his face draining of color. My mother quickly held onto him, rubbing his back to calm his breathing. Harper leaned into Tristan’s chest, giggling mockingly. “See? Your family is so stubborn and blind to reality!” “Leave the dowry here for me. Who knows, maybe when you inevitably get in trouble later, I’ll put in a good word for you with Tristan.” My mother was so furious she tried to lunge forward to slap her, but Harper actually raised her foot and kicked my mother in the shin. “Back off, you old hag! I’m sick of looking at your miserable face!” I immediately stepped in front, shielding my parents with my body. But Tristan shot his hand out, gripping my jaw painfully and forcing my face up to look at him. “Chloe, it’s not too late to regret it. For the sake of our past, I can let you stay here tonight.” “As for these two old fossils, since they disrespected me, they can drop to their knees, kowtow to apologize, and I’ll let them leave.” He gestured. Two of his thugs grabbed my parents by the arms, twisting them painfully, while two massive bodyguards stepped toward me, preparing to drag me upstairs by force. My father’s military aides were hopelessly outnumbered and blocked by Tristan’s mob of men. They couldn’t break through. Just as the situation was about to turn violently ugly, a booming, authoritative voice echoed from the grand entrance: “NYPD! Nobody move!”

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“Who gave you permission to use Operating Room 7?” I had just pulled down my mask, my hands barely out of the sterile field, when the question hit me like a slap to the face. I looked up. Liam Carter stood in the center of the hallway, his lab coat crisp, his ID badge glaring under the fluorescent lights. “As of right now, you are suspended.” The surrounding area instantly fell silent. The lights at the nurses’ station were on, and several doctors stopped dead in their tracks, all eyes turning toward us. I let out a short laugh. “Excuse me?” Liam took a step forward, his voice louder. “I said, you are suspended. Operating Room 7 is no longer open to you.” “On whose authority?” Right in front of everyone, he reached out and ripped the printed schedule off the wall at the nurses’ station. The paper tore with a sharp rip. “The Chief of Medicine.” I nodded slowly and didn’t say another word. In that moment, I knew this wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment decision. I pulled out my phone and sent a quick text to the Mayor. “I’m sorry, my surgical privileges have been revoked. I’m afraid I won’t be able to perform your wife’s liver transplant.” 01 The OR doors slid shut behind me, and the moment the “In Use” light flicked off, the tension in my shoulders finally released. For ten straight hours, I had stood at that operating table, performing a highly complex organ transplant. I had personally verified every single suture. When the patient was wheeled out, the lines on the monitor were clean and stable. I pulled down my surgical mask, the sharp scent of antiseptic still clinging to my breath. Just as I rounded the corner of the hallway, a figure stepped directly into my path, blocking me. “Dr. Hayes.” The tone was abrasive, the volume intentionally dialed up. I looked up and saw Liam Carter. He wore a pristine white lab coat, his ID badge so new it reflected the overhead lights. He was a surgical intern, personally mentored by Julian—no, excuse me, by Arthur Sterling. He stood ramrod straight, looking as if he’d been waiting there for a while. At the nurses’ station and in the waiting area, several doctors paused what they were doing, drawn by his loud voice. “Who gave you permission to use Operating Room 7?” Liam raised his chin, making sure everyone could hear him. “As of right now, you are suspended.” The air instantly tightened. I froze for a split second. It wasn’t that I hadn’t dealt with arrogant people before, but I hadn’t expected it at a moment like this. I gave a small smile, tossed my gloves into the biohazard bin, and kept my voice light. “Oh? And on whose authority?” He sneered, as if he’d been waiting for me to ask that very question. Right in front of me, he reached out and yanked the printed schedule off the wall. The sound of tearing paper echoed unnaturally loud in the quiet corridor. “The Chief of Medicine.” After delivering the line, he tossed the torn schedule aside, the edge of the paper grazing a nurse’s hand. Nobody made a sound. I watched a few young residents lower their heads, pretending to be deeply engrossed in charting. The charge nurse’s lips parted, but she ultimately said nothing. I nodded. “Understood.” My tone was so calm it surprised even me. Liam was visibly taken aback. It clearly wasn’t the reaction he’d been hoping for. He took another step forward, lowering his voice but still ensuring those nearby could hear every word. “Chloe Hayes, know your place. You should know perfectly well who runs Surgery now.” I didn’t dignify that with a response. The light above OR 7 was still illuminated. Through the observation window, I could see the scrub techs breaking down the sterile field. That surgery was my first since returning to the States. It was also my first time truly standing in a core position at this hospital since coming back from my fellowship abroad. I sidestepped him and headed toward the locker room. A scoff sounded behind me. “Stop acting tough.” In the locker room, I washed my hands for a long time. The sound of running water drowned out the noise from the hallway. The woman staring back at me in the mirror had dark circles under her eyes and a red indentation across her forehead from the surgical mask. Chloe Hayes, forty-two years old, attending surgeon. I had completed numerous complex transplant surgeries during my time abroad. According to protocol, I was supposed to be the hospital’s key asset for their next phase of development. And now, I had just been publicly suspended by an intern. My phone buzzed in my scrub pocket. I pulled it out. The caller ID read: Arthur Sterling. He was the Chief of Medicine at this hospital. He was also my husband. The message was brief. “Don’t cause a scene. Let me handle it.” I stared at that line of text for a few seconds before the screen went dark. He hadn’t shown up. No explanation, no denial. That scene in the hallway—if he hadn’t green-lit it, it never would have happened. Suddenly, it became crystal clear: this wasn’t a misunderstanding. When I got back to my office, the door was slightly ajar. On my desk, my nameplate had already been removed, leaving only a faint, sticky residue behind. Administration moved fast. I stood there for a moment before I started packing my personal belongings into my bag. I didn’t rush, meticulously organizing even my files, paper by paper. Someone knocked. It was a veteran attending from the surgical department, his voice hushed. “Chloe… maybe you should just head home and take a few days off?” I nodded. “Alright.” He hesitated, looking like he wanted to say more, but eventually just let out a heavy sigh. By the time I walked out of the administrative building, the sky had already grown dark. I stood on the steps and lit a cigarette for myself. As the smoke curled upward, my mind drifted back three years to when Mayor Davis came to inspect the hospital. Mayor Richard Davis was a man of few words. He stood in the patient room, looking people dead in the eye when he spoke. At the time, he asked me a direct question: “If the risks become uncontrollable, will you stop the procedure?” I answered, “Yes.” He simply said, “Good.” Later, the Mayor’s wife, Eleanor Davis, was diagnosed as needing an organ transplant. After multiple rounds of evaluation, it was finally decided that I would be the lead surgeon. It was a surgery with absolutely zero margin for error. My phone lit up again. Without a second thought, I opened my contacts and sent a message. It wasn’t long, but every word was clear. “I’m sorry, my surgical privileges have been revoked. I’m afraid I won’t be able to perform your wife’s liver transplant.” Message Sent. The cigarette burned down to the filter. I crushed it out in the receptacle on top of the trash can. In the distance, the lights in the inpatient tower flicked on one by one. At the end of the corridor, Liam Carter stood amidst a group of people, talking animatedly. He looked thrilled, as if he were already accustomed to being the center of attention. No one noticed me. At this moment, everyone assumed I was just a suspended doctor. But I knew that things were only just beginning to shift. 02 Early the next morning, I arrived at the hospital as usual. When I swiped my ID badge at the main entrance, the scanner flashed red for a second before the turnstile opened. The security guard glanced at me, said nothing, and quickly looked away. I entered the inpatient tower. The elevator was packed with white coats. Usually, people would nod and say hello, but today, everyone suddenly seemed incredibly fascinated by the digital floor display, staring intently as the numbers ticked up. The elevator chimed at the sixth floor. The sign for the Department of Surgery was still there, but the atmosphere inside had noticeably shifted. The printed schedule at the nurses’ station had been replaced with a fresh sheet. The handwriting was neat and clean. Under the “Lead Surgeon” column for several upcoming procedures, the name “Chloe Hayes” was completely absent. I set my bag down, pulled out my phone, and opened the hospital’s internal portal. The login screen popped up an error message: Insufficient Privileges. I tried my backup account. Still nothing. I clicked over to the surgical schedule. It looked as if the screen had been wiped clean. All the surgeries originally assigned to me were now blank, reading only “Pending Assignment.” I looked up and saw the charge nurse standing behind the counter, clutching a clipboard so tightly her knuckles were white, her lips pressed into a thin, pale line. “Who changed the schedule?” I asked. Her voice was barely a whisper. “Administration sent down a memo… said you were suspended from all surgical and clinical duties, pending further assignment from the board.” “Where’s the memo?” She hesitated, then slid open a drawer and handed me a stamped document. The header was bold: Decision Regarding the Suspension of Surgical Privileges and Clinical Duties of Dr. Chloe Hayes. It was issued by the Executive Office. In the approval signature box was Arthur Sterling’s name. I set the paper back down without so much as a frown. A young nurse nearby softly called out, “Dr. Hayes…” Before she could finish, someone coughed lightly from behind. She immediately swallowed the rest of her sentence, lowered her head, and went back to sorting medication orders, though her fingers were visibly trembling. The cough came from Liam Carter. He strolled down from the end of the hallway, his pace leisurely, almost like he was on patrol. Two interns trailed closely behind him. “Morning, Dr. Hayes.” He smiled politely, but his eyes were taking roll call. “Having trouble logging into the system? That’s normal. The Chief had it disabled last night.” I looked at him. “Are you in charge of surgical scheduling now?” “Temporarily assisting.” He emphasized the word ‘temporarily’. “The Chief asked me to keep an eye on things, to make sure no one goes rogue. Don’t blame me, rules are rules.” The area around the nurses’ station grew even quieter. I didn’t waste my breath arguing with him. I turned and walked toward the Department Head’s office. The door was unlocked. I pushed it open. Two people were sitting inside: the Deputy Director of Administration and a coordinator from Medical Affairs. There were file folders laid out on the desk, clearly waiting for me. The Deputy Director spoke first, his tone strictly business. “Dr. Hayes, we’re just executing the board’s decision here. Please hand over your OR access card, your authorization for anesthesia consult sign-offs, and your ER green-channel clearance.” “My ER green-channel clearance is suspended too?” I asked. The coordinator rushed to explain. “You’re not barred from the ER; you just can’t act as the final authorizing signatory. The board has designated a replacement.” “And who is the replacement?” The Deputy Director shot the coordinator a look and didn’t answer, instead sliding a sign-off sheet toward me. “Please sign this.” I didn’t pick up the pen. His smile turned stiff. “Dr. Hayes, don’t make this harder for us.” I flipped the sign-off sheet to the last page. In the box labeled “Designated Replacement,” I saw a name: Liam Carter. I looked up. “An intern is acting as the final authorizing signatory?” The coordinator’s face drained of color, and he hurriedly backpedaled. “It’s not the final signature! He’s just assisting… the actual approval still goes through the Chief.” I snapped the clipboard shut. “I’m not signing this.” The Deputy Director’s voice grew colder. “Dr. Hayes, you are currently suspended from clinical duties. Per hospital policy, you must cooperate with the handover. If you refuse, we will have to report this up the chain.” “Then report it.” I stood up. “Have the Chief of Medicine tell me himself.” Coming out of the office, I ran head-on into an old med school classmate from Anesthesiology. When she saw me, her steps faltered, like she wanted to say something but was terrified of being overheard. “Chloe…” she whispered, dropping her voice. “Don’t fight this head-on. The political winds in the hospital are blowing the wrong way right now.” I nodded. “I know.” She sighed and hurried away. I went back to the locker room to change out of my scrubs. Just as I hung up my white coat, my phone rang. Caller ID: Arthur Sterling. I answered. He skipped the pleasantries and cut straight to the chase. “Why are you causing trouble in Administration? They’re just doing their jobs.” “I was asking for clarification on the name on the sign-off sheet,” I said. He paused for two seconds, his tone shifting into that familiar “voice of reason.” “Stop getting hung up on details. The hospital needs order right now. You just got back; there are a lot of protocols you aren’t accustomed to yet. Taking a step back to breathe is a good thing for you.” “Suspending my surgical privileges is ‘taking a step back’?” “Chloe, stop twisting my words.” His voice grew tighter. “You’re too emotionally invested right now. If you keep operating, you’re going to make a mistake.” I didn’t give him an inch. “Last night’s surgery was a success. If you want to talk about risk, let’s look at the data.” Silence on the other end of the line. Then, he switched to a more blunt approach. “I’m not going to beat around the bush. The hospital needs to move forward, and that requires people who follow orders. You’re too aggressive, and it’s making a lot of people uncomfortable.” “Who are ‘a lot of people’?” “Don’t push me.” Arthur’s tone was clearly irritated now. “You’ve been out of the country too long. You don’t understand how the game is played here. The Department of Surgery isn’t your personal stage.” I heard footsteps and knocking on his end, like he was in the middle of a meeting. He lowered his voice, almost like a warning. “Don’t go running to Mayor Davis again, and don’t try to use his wife’s case as leverage. She is a patient, not a bargaining chip.” I didn’t argue, nor did I explain. He took my silence as a concession. His tone softened slightly. “I’m doing this for your own good. Go home, take a few days off. Don’t wander around the hospital. Once this blows over, I’ll figure out a new arrangement for you.” “What kind of arrangement?” I asked. “You can focus on academia, mentor the young doctors, write grant proposals.” He said it so casually. “Clinical work is high-pressure. You don’t have to be the one on the front lines all the time.” I hung up. The locker room was silent except for the dull, annoying hum of the exhaust fan. I grabbed my bag and walked out of the surgical wing. Just as I reached the elevator banks, Liam Carter appeared again. It was like he was intentionally guarding the chokepoint. His eyes flashed when he saw me, and then he smiled even more brightly. “Dr. Hayes, the Chief spoke to you, didn’t he? You should head home and rest. The hospital has a lot of inspections coming up; don’t go looking for trouble.” “Inspections?” I stopped in my tracks. Liam feigned casualness. “The city is sending people down to review our protocols. Word is they’re focusing on OR management. Someone like you, who just got back, should definitely stay out of it. Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on Surgery for the Chief.” He said “for the Chief” very loudly, seemingly making sure the passing nurses heard. The elevator doors slid open. I didn’t get in. I turned and headed toward the other wing of the inpatient tower. That was where the ward consultation rooms were. I had post-op follow-ups scheduled for two transplant patients today, and I needed to check on them. When I pushed open the door to the consult room, the attending physician inside practically leaped out of her chair. She moved so fast the legs of the chair screeched against the floor. “Dr. Hayes… this consultation has been rescheduled,” she said. “Rescheduled for when?” “Medical Affairs sent down a notice… another team is taking over.” She refused to meet my eyes. “You shouldn’t show your face right now. The patients’ families are highly emotional; if they cause a scene, it’ll be hard to manage.” “Who’s taking over?” She hesitated before saying, “Liam Carter is shadowing… it was arranged by the Chief’s office.” I stared at her. She couldn’t hold my gaze and muttered defensively, “There’s nothing I can do. The paperwork is already filed.” I didn’t press the issue and turned to leave. At the end of the hallway, the patients’ families were waiting. When they saw me, their eyes visibly lit up. “Dr. Hayes, how is the patient from last night doing?” someone asked anxiously. “We heard you were back, we wanted you to look at my mother’s labs.” I stopped, keeping my tone as even as possible. “You can give me the reports, and I’ll review them. But the hospital is reorganizing all surgical schedules right now. Medical Affairs will contact you with specific updates.” The family members were stunned. “You’re not doing the surgery anymore? Weren’t you the one in charge?” I offered no emotional response, only saying, “It’s a hospital decision.” As I said that, I could feel the stares around me intensifying. Several nurses standing nearby seemed to suddenly find their charting clipboards very heavy. I flipped through the lab reports, highlighted two key metrics, and handed them back. “Keep her on this regimen for a week, then re-test.” They thanked me profusely, but their frustration was evident. “Dr. Hayes, you’re the only one we trust.” I didn’t acknowledge the comment. I just nodded and walked away. I didn’t need anyone to cry foul on my behalf. Every move I made here was being watched. When I reached the main lobby on the first floor, I saw a new notice tacked to the bulletin board. During the specialized standardization review of the surgical operating rooms, all OR usage, authorization sign-offs, and personnel deployments will be centrally managed by the Executive Office. The official hospital seal was stamped at the bottom. People were whispering nearby, but scattered immediately as I approached. I stood in front of the notice board for a moment before heading to the parking garage. Just as I started the car, my phone buzzed again. It wasn’t Arthur, nor was it anyone from the hospital. It was a reply from the Mayor’s Office. It contained only two words. “Hold on.” 03 I didn’t go back to the hospital. By the time I drove up to my neighborhood gate, it was pitch black. The guard saw my car, raised the barrier as usual, and didn’t give me a second glance. The lights were on inside the house. I changed my shoes in the entryway. The living room was quiet; the TV was off. On the dining table sat two plates of food that had already gone cold. Arthur was sitting on the sofa holding a tablet, looking like he was reviewing documents. He heard me come in, glanced up, and his tone was flat. “You’re back.” I set my keys in the tray by the door, didn’t reply, and walked over to the dining table to pour a glass of water. “You don’t need to go back to the hospital anymore,” he said, closing the tablet and standing up. “I’ve already made it clear to Administration. I told them to stop bothering you.” “Made what clear?” I asked. “That you’re not in the right emotional state, and you need to take a break.” He walked over, picking up the cold plates to take them into the kitchen. “You acting like this will only make things more difficult.” I followed him into the kitchen and watched him dump the food into the trash. “Did you sign off on Liam Carter’s authorization form?” His hands paused for a second, but he didn’t turn around immediately. “He’s just a proxy,” he said. “The final approval still comes to me.” “He’s an intern,” I stated. “So what?” He turned around, his tone edging into impatience. “Stop bringing up titles all the time. Young doctors need to be trained; someone has to be ready to step up. What’s the point of fixating on a name?” I leaned against the doorframe, watching him. “That transplant patient… I was the one responsible for her.” “I know,” he frowned. “But the hospital doesn’t revolve entirely around you. How long have you been back in the country? Can you even keep up with the changes in the surgical department over the past few years?” “You think I can’t keep up?” He didn’t answer directly, merely sighing. “Chloe, you’re too stubborn. The way things are done overseas… it doesn’t work everywhere.” I offered a half-smile. “So what works here? Putting an intern on the front lines?” His face finally darkened completely. “Do you have to speak like that?” He tied a knot in the trash bag. “You just can’t accept change. Do you think you’re still the only option available?” My smile vanished. “You’ve already made up your mind,” I said. He stared at me, as if weighing the impact of my words. The living room fell silent, save for the low hum of the refrigerator compressor. After a few seconds, his tone softened slightly. “I won’t deny it. Right now, I have to think about the entire hospital. The Chief of Surgery position can’t remain vacant, and someone has to be able to hold the fort. You wanting to drag everything back to how it was the second you returned… it’s just not realistic.” “So you chose him,” I said. He didn’t deny it. “Liam is at least obedient, and he’s willing to do the work,” he said. “He knows which side to stand on.” The implication hung heavy in the air, clearer than any direct accusation. I nodded. “Understood.” He seemed surprised I agreed so quickly, taken aback for a moment. “What do you understand?” “You don’t want successful surgeries,” I said. “You want positions filled by people who fall in line with your agenda.” His temple twitched, and his voice dropped. “Don’t make this sound so malicious.” “Then be honest with me.” I met his gaze squarely. “If someone else had been suspended today, would you have been this decisive?” He avoided my eyes and turned to pour himself a glass of water. “You’re being too sensitive,” he said. “We’re married. Stop trying to turn this into an adversarial situation.” “But you’ve already taken a side.” He set the glass down on the counter with a soft clink. He looked up at me, and for the first time, his eyes showed clear annoyance. “Chloe, this attitude of yours isn’t doing anyone any favors.” “I’m not sure if it benefits you,” I said. “But it definitely doesn’t benefit me.” He was silent for a moment before speaking more directly. “You currently have zero privileges and no say in this matter. Continuing to make a fuss will only make it harder to wrap this up.” “Is that a warning?” “It’s a fact.” I didn’t continue the conversation, turning instead toward the study. The study door was ajar, the room exactly as I had left it. A stack of medical journals sat on the desk; my suitcase, still half-unpacked from my return trip, rested in the corner. I pulled the suitcase out and started throwing clothes inside. He followed me in, standing at the doorway. “What are you doing?” “I’m moving out for a while,” I said. “Is that really necessary?” His voice rose slightly. “Your home is right here.” “Here, my voice means nothing.” I zipped up a compartment. “A change of scenery will give me some peace and quiet.” He stared at me like he was looking at a complete stranger. “Are you trying to pick a fight with me now?” he asked. “No.” I stood the suitcase upright. “I just don’t want to be involved in your decisions anymore.” He let out a cold laugh. “Do you think taking a step back absolves you of everything?” “At least I won’t be used as an excuse anymore,” I said. His expression turned ice cold. “Chloe, don’t forget—right now, you have nothing.” I paused and looked at him. “I have my expertise,” I stated. The word seemed to hit a nerve, his tone suddenly sharp. “Expertise? Who cares only about that nowadays? You’re too naive.” I didn’t argue back. Some things only need to be said once. I pushed the suitcase to the door and casually grabbed a stack of documents from the study. They were case analyses I’d compiled over the past few years, intending to slowly review them after returning to the States. He stood in the middle of the living room, watching me, as if waiting for me to say something more. I changed into my shoes and grabbed my coat. “You’re going to regret this,” he suddenly said. I paused for a second but didn’t turn around. “You always think you’re in control of everything,” I said. “But you can’t even manage patient triage correctly.” As the door clicked shut, his voice was sealed inside. 04 I checked into a hotel nearby. The room wasn’t large, but it was quiet. After unpacking, I opened my laptop and reviewed several transplant cases I’d worked on over the past few years. The data was solid; the protocols were flawless. The issue wasn’t the surgeries themselves. The next morning, I received a call from an unknown number. The caller identified himself as a staffer from the Mayor’s Office. His tone was restrained, asking only one question: “Dr. Hayes, is this a good time to talk?” I said yes. He didn’t elaborate, merely confirming one fact: “You were responsible for the pre-op evaluation for the Mayor’s wife, correct?” “That’s correct.” A brief pause on the other end. “Understood. If we need your further cooperation, we will contact you.” The call ended. I didn’t return to the hospital, and no one reached out to me. That afternoon, I visited an imaging center I frequently collaborated with and requested a follow-up report from an outside facility. It was Eleanor Davis’s most recent scan, taken just two days ago. The numbers weren’t promising. Her liver function was highly erratic, with some markers approaching critical levels. According to the original plan, if the transplant wasn’t expedited, post-op management would become significantly more difficult. I slipped the report back into its folder without doing anything else. For a VIP patient of this caliber, any delay would leave a paper trail. By the third day, things at the hospital began to shift. First, a brief text from my old med school friend in Anesthesiology: “They swapped the surgeon for your transplant case.” I replied, “I know.” Shortly after, another text: “It’s Liam Carter. The Chief handpicked him.” I stared at the screen for a few seconds before placing the phone face down on the desk. I knew Liam’s resume. His fundamentals were okay, but he had never been the primary surgeon for a transplant of this magnitude. At best, he had stood in as second assist, handing instruments and keeping time. Pushing him to the front line wasn’t bold; it was reckless. That evening, I received a third phone call. This time, it was the Deputy Director of Administration from the hospital. “Dr. Hayes, just giving you a heads-up,” he said vaguely. “The city might inquire about the scheduling of that upcoming surgery. If anyone contacts you, just stick to the facts.” “Who’s inquiring?” “The Mayor,” he lowered his voice. “Richard Davis.” The call ended abruptly, as if he feared being overheard. The following morning, the hospital convened an emergency coordination meeting. I wasn’t there, but the details of the meeting quickly leaked out. Eleanor Davis’s latest test results were placed squarely on the conference table. Representatives from Medical Affairs, Surgery, and Anesthesiology were all present. The original surgical plan was pulled out, and comparative data was laid out page by page. Someone suggested changing the lead surgeon. The justifications were perfectly bureaucratic: young, energetic, capable of handling pressure. Liam Carter volunteered. “I can do it,” he stated firmly. “I’ve been involved in all the prep work. I know the patient’s condition inside and out.” No one openly objected. But no one nodded in agreement either. Midway through the meeting, a secretary slipped in and whispered something into Arthur’s ear. His expression shifted momentarily before returning to a neutral mask. The meeting continued. Not long after, Richard Davis himself arrived. There were no pleasantries, no superfluous expressions. Upon sitting down, his first question wasn’t about the surgical plan. He looked directly at the head of Medical Affairs. “Who was the original lead surgeon?” A brief silence settled over the conference room. The head of Medical Affairs stood up. “The original plan was Dr. Chloe Hayes.” “Then why the change?” This time, no one answered immediately. Arthur spoke up, his tone measured. “Dr. Hayes’s recent condition makes her unsuitable to handle such a high-intensity surgery right now. The hospital made an adjustment based on risk assessment.” Davis nodded, then asked, “Who conducted this assessment?” “It was a comprehensive internal review by the hospital board.” “Where is the assessment report?” The air in the room noticeably tightened. Administration handed over a file. It wasn’t thick, mostly consisting of procedural outlines rather than clinical data. Davis flipped through two pages without commenting. He then turned to Liam Carter. “You are the replacement?” Liam stood up straight. “Yes, sir. I will give it my absolute best.” “How many procedures of this specific type have you been the primary surgeon for?” “As the sole primary surgeon… none yet.” “How many have you participated in?” “Seven.” Davis closed the file. “Seven participations, and you are prepared to take ultimate responsibility?” His tone wasn’t loud, but the weight of his words was undeniable. “Who gave the final approval for this?” Arthur answered, “I did.” Davis looked at him but didn’t press the issue further. He pivoted. “Have you reviewed Eleanor’s latest lab reports?” “Yes.” “With the markers fluctuating this wildly, why are we still debating personnel changes?” This time, no one rushed to answer. The only sound in the room was the rustling of paper. Davis pushed the reports back to the center of the table. “I don’t interfere with hospital personnel decisions. But when it comes to patients, there is no room for trial and error.” He stood up. “Compile the entire approval process for this surgery—from initial proposal to current status, including all personnel change logs and risk assessments—and submit it to the Mayor’s Office.” “By the end of today.” With that, he left the conference room. The door closing wasn’t loud, but it left everyone shifting uneasily in their seats. After that day, the rhythm of the hospital drastically changed. The surgical department found itself under constant scrutiny. Protocols were double-checked line by line. Approvals that usually sailed through were suddenly put on hold. Liam Carter’s name was, for the first time, being debated, rather than accepted as a foregone conclusion. I was notified that evening. Someone from the Mayor’s Office contacted me, requesting a written statement covering only one topic. “Explain exactly why your surgical privileges were revoked.” I agreed. After hanging up, I sat quietly for a moment. The situation was pivoting in a new direction, but a conclusion was still far off. Some people had already sensed the shifting winds, but no one dared make the first move. Early the next morning, I submitted the compiled materials. When the “Sent Successfully” notification popped up, dawn was just breaking outside my window. The real problems were now laid bare on the table.

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My fiancé, Marcus Grayson, died trying to save me. After his death, his parents knelt before me, begging me—someone blessed with exceptional fertility—to bear a child for the notorious mafia boss Xavier Cross to settle their debts. Overwhelmed with guilt, I tearfully agreed. Everyone assumed that becoming the gang leader’s woman would bring me endless luxury and privilege. But these past three years, I’ve been nothing more than his breeding tool, subjected to endless humiliation. Three months into my pregnancy, Marcus came to visit me. As I gazed at that face I’d longed for day and night, I felt like I’d fallen into an icy abyss. I never imagined the man I’d loved for years had been deceiving me for three whole years. With trembling hands, I scheduled an abortion and sent Xavier a delayed message. “The child we worked so hard to conceive has been killed by Marcus.” Now I’d just sit back and watch them tear each other apart. During the three years Marcus faked his death, I lived every day consumed by heartache and guilt. I was even willing to stay by Xavier’s side, never fighting back no matter how he beat or cursed me, just hoping to get pregnant soon and clear the debt. “Wendy, my son and I have wronged you so deeply. If Marcus hadn’t died so young, we would never have let you suffer like this…” Every time my depression flared up and I wanted to end it all, my father-in-law would blame himself. Seeing his graying hair and his anguished expression, I could only endure. Only in the dead of night, alone with Marcus’s photo, could I pour out my grief and longing. Who could have imagined that this very man had sent me to Xavier just so he could run away with another woman? My phone suddenly rang. I frantically pressed the power button to turn it off. But Marcus’s voice continued. “Dad, Vivian rejected an arranged marriage for my sake. I have to make her happy.” “Besides, Wendy’s pregnant with Xavier’s child now. She already has a good life. Even if she knew I was alive, she’d only be able to wish us well. Now is the perfect time to plan the wedding.” My chest felt like it had been filled with concrete. I couldn’t breathe, and everything went dark. I stumbled back to the living room. Before I could even sit down, a slap struck my face. “How dare you hang up on me? Were you sneaking around with some guy just now!” Xavier’s eyes were bloodshot as his hands clamped around my throat. Stomach acid surged up, and I vomited all over him. Xavier froze for a moment. When he came to his senses, he yanked off his belt and began beating me viciously. “You disgusting bitch! I’ll beat you to death!” I curled into a ball, letting my tears fall silently. Marcus, is this the happy life you promised me? Glass suddenly shattered. Marcus jumped through the window. “What gives you the right to hit Wendy!” Before Xavier could explode in rage, my father-in-law rushed over and held the pregnancy test result up to his face. “Mr. Cross, please calm down. She’s carrying your child now.” When he turned to look at me, a flash of impatience crossed his face. “Wendy, why can’t you behave now that you’re pregnant? What if something happens to the baby? How would you face Marcus?” Marcus frowned and pulled me behind him, using his body to shield me from my father-in-law’s accusing gaze. Xavier stared at the pregnancy test with wild joy, examining it over and over, completely ignoring me. “So the useless woman finally did something right. My money wasn’t wasted! But you’d better know your place. Don’t think being pregnant makes you special.” My father-in-law’s eyes lit up as he leaned close to Marcus’s ear and whispered. “Judging by that lunatic’s reaction, we’ll definitely get the final payment in the next few days! Once the money comes through, we’ll hold your wedding with Vivian right away!” I clenched my fists hard against my abdomen, my heart aching so badly I could barely breathe. Since I owe him nothing, then this ends here. Xavier didn’t leave until he’d laughed maniacally for what felt like forever. Only then did Marcus breathe a sigh of relief. He turned to help me sit down, then quickly brought me a glass of milk. “Wendy, you need to learn to protect yourself. Even for the baby’s sake, you can’t let that maniac abuse you like this.” “If Marcus knew about this, how heartbroken would he be?” He knelt on one knee, holding my ice-cold hands, his eyes full of concern that seemed completely genuine. His gentleness made me feel disoriented again, as if everything had returned to three years ago. A bitter, self-mocking smile tugged at my lips. I asked him softly. “Marcus, would you really be heartbroken?”

Marcus froze for a moment, then affectionately ruffled my hair. “Wendy, you’re Xavier’s woman now. Don’t bring up the past anymore. If Xavier found out…” I closed my eyes, unwilling to see his false concern any longer. “I want to rest. Please leave.” Seeing that I didn’t press further, he secretly breathed a sigh of relief. “I heard you have a prenatal checkup tomorrow? Let me take you.” I laughed softly and tilted my head back, refusing to let my tears fall. I’d only agreed to this pregnancy out of guilt. Now that I knew it was all a lie, what reason was there to keep going to checkups? “We’ll see tomorrow.” After he left, I furiously wiped away my tears. Ten years ago, we had a brief encounter. He protected me throughout my senior year of high school. He still has a scar on his ribs from when he fought off street thugs for me. At the freshman welcome party, he stood on the stage and confessed his love for me through a passionate guitar solo. Once our jobs stabilized, he proposed to me without hesitation. “Wendy, give me two years. I’ll make you the happiest bride.” I was completely intoxicated by the vision of our future together. I even told him my secret—that I had exceptional fertility—right before our wedding. Who knew it would become the beginning of this nightmare? My father-in-law walked in from outside, contentedly playing with his bank card. When he saw me, his eyes shifted, and he sat down beside me with a smile. “Wendy, Marcus came all this way to see you. Now that he’s getting married, it wouldn’t be right if you didn’t send some money as a gift, would it? We’re all family, so you don’t need to give much—thirty thousand should do.” I just wanted to escape as quickly as possible, so I went along with what he said. “Fine. I’ll definitely attend the wedding. I’ll prepare a big gift.” My father-in-law’s face creased with his smile. I stood up and went straight to my room. He had no idea that day would never come. The next day, I wanted to return to the place Marcus and I used to live together to retrieve my belongings. The moment I pushed open the door, the blood in my veins began to freeze. Torn clothes were scattered across the floor. The trash can was filled with used condoms. My eyes instinctively scanned the room. The guitar he’d used to confess his love to me was now covered in childish stickers. Three words were crudely carved into the body: “Vivian Fletcher.” A faint burning smell drifted from the balcony. I walked closer and looked down. Only scattered ashes remained, with a few fragments of paper showing the words “Love Wendy Forever.” The last thread in my mind finally snapped. These were the love letters Marcus had written to me. They’d been my spiritual anchor, read countless times over these three years. A scream suddenly came from outside the door. “Who are you? How dare you break into my house?” I turned around to find a girl in a tank top and short skirt standing in my line of sight. Before I could speak, she began crying and shouting loudly. “Marcus, where are you? Someone broke into my room!” Marcus ran over and embraced her, his voice carrying a tenderness I’d never heard before. “Vivian, don’t cry. I’m here!” His sharp gaze stabbed toward me, but softened when it touched me. “Why is it you? Vivian’s been sick. Don’t upset her like this—her body can’t take it.” “Wait, I should be questioning you. Why are you crying like that?” I stood there in a daze, wiping my face only to realize tears were already streaming down my cheeks. “My letters were all burned. Even this room has been defiled!” Marcus frowned impatiently, his expression darkening. “Is that all? You’re dredging up ancient history? Wendy Turner, I’d advise you not to make a scene with me.” I glanced at Vivian making faces at me, unable to say another word. Forget it. It was all fake anyway. What’s there to miss? I turned and left the estate, heading to the hospital for the procedure.

I walked alone for a long time through the drizzling rain. At some point, a trail of blood began streaking across the wet ground behind me. The cramping in my lower abdomen grew more and more obvious. My whole body felt increasingly heavy. Marcus’s villa was in a remote location. There was no way to catch a cab nearby. In my daze, the screech of brakes pierced the air. Muddy water from the roadside splashed all over me. A Cayenne stopped not far away. The window rolled down, revealing Marcus’s panicked voice. “Wendy, what are you doing?” I turned to look at him and called out for help. “Help… help me…” After I spoke, everything went black and I collapsed toward the ground, struggling to breathe. Marcus’s face went deathly pale with alarm. He pushed the car door open, about to come help me. Vivian’s sweet voice complained from inside. “Wendy, even if you’re mad at me, you can’t take it out on your baby. If something happens to your child, that maniac Xavier will never let the Grayson family off.” Marcus’s movement to exit the car stopped. When he looked at me again, only disgust remained in his eyes. “Wendy, I never realized you were such an actress. What’s that on the ground? Ketchup, right? You almost fooled me!” With that, he slammed the door shut forcefully. I weakly shook my head desperately, using every ounce of strength to try to explain. But in the end, I didn’t even have the energy to speak. Vivian laughed mockingly. “Wendy, you don’t actually think you look like some fragile beauty right now, do you? You just look dirty and pathetic, like an idiot.” “Marcus, I’d advise you to control her better, so she doesn’t keep acting stupid. If she really does something extreme someday, it’ll be too late…” I couldn’t hear the rest. A ringing filled my ears. I couldn’t hold on any longer and collapsed completely. Marcus observed me with furrowed brows, a hint of internal struggle occasionally flashing in his eyes, but ultimately replaced by coldness. “Stop pretending even now!” Blood flowed more and more freely, gradually staining the ground beneath me into a red puddle. I kept praying in my heart, hoping he would change his mind and take me to the hospital. But all I got in return was choking exhaust fumes. “Vivian’s in a hurry to get to her concert, so I’ll let you off today!” “Since you love acting so much, go ahead and put on a show for yourself!” The Cayenne’s departing taillights became the last image I saw before losing consciousness. The pungent smell of disinfectant filled my nostrils as I frowned and slowly opened my eyes. My hand instinctively moved to my lower abdomen. The cramping pain had completely disappeared. “You’re still young. You can have children again in the future.” The doctor shook her head sympathetically. “Thank goodness a kind person got you to the hospital in time. A few minutes later, and not even a miracle could have saved you.” I weakly thanked her. Even though I’d already decided to terminate this pregnancy, my heart still ached uncontrollably. “Baby, I’m sorry. But I absolutely cannot let that maniac Xavier be your father. You’ll understand Mommy, won’t you?” The moment I closed my eyes, tears seemed to break free from all restraint, pouring out recklessly. My phone suddenly rang. Seeing “Marcus” displayed on the screen, I didn’t hesitate to hang up. Now that the deception was exposed, I would settle accounts with him one by one.

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Married for eight years, everyone praised me as the luckiest woman in New York high society. My husband was notoriously devoted, showering me with jewelry, buying yachts, and renting out entire private islands just to celebrate my birthday. I, too, tirelessly played the role of the gentle, compliant, and frugal Mrs. Sterling. Even the media dubbed us a rare example of true love emerging from a business marriage. That is, until the day our daughter was born. His little kept woman intentionally had a C-section early to deliver his son, publicly provoking me, the legitimate wife. Naive as I was, I thought he would consider the Sterling family’s reputation and send the mother and son abroad. I never expected that he would swap my daughter for that illegitimate son. He even handed me a custody agreement, righteously forcing me to sign it. “I owe her. I have to repay her.” “Our daughter will recognize you as her godmother. When she’s older, I’ll send her to Switzerland for school. Don’t worry, she will be a little princess that everyone envies.” “And you will always be my wife.” I nodded and smiled as I took the pen to sign. He let out a long sigh of relief, thinking I had finally accepted my fate. Little did he know, today was the exact day I had been waiting for. Chapter 1 I handed the signed custody agreement back to Arthur Sterling. He glanced over it and nodded in satisfaction. “Get some good rest.” As he reached the door, he looked back once more. “By the way, the boy’s name is Leo. The girl… is Chloe.” The door clicked shut. The hospital room fell quiet again. I stared at the baby boy in the bassinet, studying him. He was awake, looking right back at me with his big eyes. That little face definitely resembled Arthur, especially the eyes and the bridge of the nose. A wave of nausea surged up my throat, and I covered my mouth, dry heaving. My nanny, Maria, pushed the door open and walked in. When she saw the baby boy in the bassinet, she jumped in shock. “Mrs. Sterling! Didn’t you have a baby girl? Why…” I offered a self-deprecating smile. “This is Maya Harper’s child.” Hearing this, Maria was furious. “Mrs. Sterling! How… how can this be allowed?! Who does that woman think she is? An illegitimate child is now the heir to the Sterling family?” “You went through ten months of pregnancy and a grueling labor to deliver your daughter, and she’s just going to be given to some D-list Instagram model to raise?” “This… this is just too much bullying! How could you… how could you agree to this?” Her hands were shaking with anger, her words filled with indignation on my behalf. I looked out the window at the dreary, gray sky, smiling bitterly and shaking my head. “Does it really matter… whether I agree or not?” Maria sighed. “But you are Mrs. Sterling! Is there no law and order anymore?” Law and order? In Arthur Sterling’s world, he is the law and order. I closed my eyes, that familiar feeling of powerlessness creeping back up. It didn’t matter. My wishes had never mattered. After all, from the very beginning, the person Arthur loved wasn’t me. During his years abroad, he had a constant string of women, but Maya Harper was the one who stuck around the longest. She was beautiful, had a killer body, and knew exactly how to play coy, completely bewitching Arthur. But for a top-tier old-money family like the Sterlings, there was no way they’d let a model who made a living flashing skin marry into the family. Old Mr. Sterling, without a second word, ordered him back to the States to meet me. As soon as the news of our arranged marriage leaked, Maya started throwing massive tantrums. To appease her, Arthur funneled all the best entertainment resources from the Sterling Group directly to her. He single-handedly elevated a kept woman who couldn’t see the light of day into a massively popular, A-list star. He gave her whatever she wanted, acting as if he’d rip his own heart out to compensate her. And now, he was even giving my child to her. Thinking of this, I pulled out my phone and sent a text to an old friend: [The fish took the bait.] Chapter 2 In the blink of an eye, little Leo turned one month old. The one-month celebration was held at the Sterling family estate. Inside and out, the five-story mansion was adorned with peonies flown in directly from Holland. The champagne tower was stacked even higher than the one at our wedding. Wearing an elegant evening gown, I greeted guests in the ballroom. Arthur held his son, a triumphant, beaming smile on his face. The wife of the Vanguard Group’s chairman approached me, raising her glass with a smile. “Mrs. Sterling, you look radiant. You’ve recovered so quickly.” I smiled and thanked her, catching a commotion at the entrance out of the corner of my eye. Maya Harper had arrived. She was wearing a custom Valentino gown with a plunging neckline that went almost down to her navel, looking incredibly sexy. The entire room fell silent for a second, all eyes zeroing in on her chest. A massive pink diamond necklace sparkled brilliantly under the crystal chandeliers. That necklace was the grand finale piece at Sotheby’s auction last month, selling for twenty million dollars. The media had reported that Arthur bought it as a “push present” for his wife. Yet now, it was glaringly hanging around Maya Harper’s neck. When Arthur saw her, his eyes lit up. He handed the baby to a nanny and walked toward Maya. Maya habitually looped her arm through his, pressing herself tightly against him. Camera flashes erupted like fireworks. The reporters, like sharks smelling blood in the water, swarmed them. “Ms. Harper, what is your relationship with Mr. Sterling?” “Did Mr. Sterling gift you this necklace?” Maya smiled for the cameras. As she raised her hand to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear, a hickey on the back of her neck was exposed, glaringly obvious against her pale skin. She tilted her head to look at Arthur, saying shyly, “Mr. Sterling, why don’t you answer?” Arthur wrapped an arm around her shoulder and spoke to the cameras. “Maya is the star artist of the Sterling Group’s entertainment division. Please don’t write any baseless rumors! The company’s legal department will pursue any false reporting to the fullest extent.” The reporters exchanged skeptical glances, their faces screaming disbelief. But intimidated by the power of the Sterling family, they didn’t dare press further and resentfully dispersed. Several society wives gathered around to comfort me. “Stella, don’t take it to heart. You know how men are…” “Exactly. Let him play around; at the end of the day, he still has to come home to you.” I smiled and nodded. It wasn’t until I raised my champagne glass to my lips that I realized my hand was shaking violently. A little champagne spilled onto my hand. It was freezing cold. Maya walked over, her arm still linked with Arthur’s. She stood in front of me, looking me up and down. “Stella, you look absolutely beautiful today.” I offered a faint smile. “Thank you. You look quite stunning yourself, Ms. Harper.” She stepped closer and whispered, “Don’t worry, Arthur told me. You will always be his wife. No one can replace you.” As she spoke, she purposefully touched the necklace around her neck. I pointed to the necklace. “Worthy of an eight-figure pink diamond. Very flashy.” “Right?” she let out a light laugh. “Arthur said it suits me perfectly. Unlike you—it would just look old and dated on you.” Arthur frowned slightly. “Maya.” “Just joking,” Maya tugged at his arm playfully. “Stella won’t mind, right?” I nodded. “I don’t mind.” That night, Twitter blew up. #MayaHarperHickey# #NewYorkSocietyPrincessOvershadowed# #ArthurSterlingMayaHarperIntimate# My name was sandwiched in between, utterly ridiculous. Chapter 3 Arthur didn’t come home until late into the night. He paused when he saw me. “You’re still awake?” I smiled. “Waiting for you.” He walked over to the bed and said softly, “Next month, I want to take Maya and Leo to Switzerland for a vacation.” I put my phone down and replied nonchalantly, “Sure, have a great time. Take lots of pictures.” “You… you’ve changed,” he said, looking at me, hesitating. I looked up at him. “Have I?” He stared into my eyes, speaking earnestly. “You didn’t use to be like this. Back then, there was light in your eyes. Now… it’s like you don’t care about anything anymore.” I scoffed inwardly. Of course I changed. From the day Arthur swapped my daughter at the hospital, that Stella Hayes died. The person living now is nothing but a walking corpse wearing a mask of docile obedience. But I just smiled. “People change. You’ve changed too, haven’t you?” Arthur let out a heavy sigh. He stood up, walked to the door, then turned back. “If you want to go, you can come with us.” I shook my head. “No thanks. I have things to handle at the company.” After Arthur left, I immediately shed that mask of docility. While he was off having a blast in Switzerland, I turned around and enrolled in the top Executive MBA program in the city. The coursework was brutal, but I relished every second of it. Maya, however, hadn’t forgotten about me. Every few days, she’d send me photos of them looking intimate, occasionally accompanied by a few boastful remarks. I patiently replied to every single one, even complimenting her photography skills. My calmness seemed to confuse her. She probably found it boring, so she eventually stopped sending them. When Arthur returned to the States, he clearly noticed the change in me. He likely assumed my “understanding” behavior was a compromise born of total despair, and miraculously, he actually tried to make amends. A Birkin bag one day, a Michelin-starred dinner reservation the next. Even his tone became ingratiating. One time, he got drunk and held my hand, saying, “Stella, can we go back to how things used to be?” I pulled my hand away and smiled. “How did things use to be? I’ve forgotten.” The light in his eyes instantly died. No matter what he said or did now, it couldn’t stir even a ripple in my heart. I was just waiting for the right moment to take back everything that belonged to me. Chapter 4 For Chloe’s fourth birthday, Arthur made an exception and allowed her to celebrate at our house. I got up early to bake a cake for her. I had just finished whipping the frosting when Maria frantically knocked on the kitchen door. “Mrs. Sterling, Chloe is here!” I didn’t even bother wiping my hands as I hurried out. As soon as I reached the living room, I heard the disjointed notes of a piano. In the distance, I saw my daughter, wearing a beautiful princess dress, sitting on the piano bench playing. Maya leaned over and asked her, “Does Chloe like playing the piano?” Chloe nodded enthusiastically, answering in her sweet, toddler voice, “I love it!” “Then we’ll play it all the time from now on, okay?” Maya smiled and stroked her hair. Chloe was even more thrilled, shouting, “Okay!” She was so excited that she accidentally knocked over the amethyst vase sitting next to the piano. The vase crashed to the floor, shattering into pieces. Everyone froze. Maya’s face changed instantly. She grabbed Chloe’s arm, yanked her off the bench, and raised her hand, delivering a hard slap. SMACK! A crisp, loud sound. Chloe’s head snapped to the side from the force, a red handprint rapidly blooming on her cheek. She stood stunned for two seconds before bursting into loud wails. That crying sounded like a sharp blade, stabbing into my heart over and over again. I charged forward. Maya was still yelling, “You little brat! Do you know how much that vase costs?! Mr. Sterling had that custom-made just for me!” She raised her hand to strike again. I grabbed the cake knife from the dining table. Before her hand could fall, I seized her wrist and twisted it viciously. Maya screamed and stumbled backward, and I pinned her against the piano. The piano let out a chaotic jumble of discordant notes. I pressed the knife against her throat and demanded fiercely, “Do you want to die?” The living room erupted into chaos. Little Leo started crying in terror, and the nanny rushed to pick him up. Maya struggled frantically trying to escape. I grabbed a handful of her hair, yanked her back, and delivered several vicious slaps across her face! SMACK! SMACK! The sharp sounds were piercingly loud in the chaotic living room. She screamed and tried to protect her face. I backhanded her hard across the mouth, and blood immediately seeped from her lip. “You dare hit me! Arthur! Arthur, save me!” she screamed hysterically. I raised my hand, fully intending to keep teaching this reckless idiot a lesson. “Stella Hayes, stop!” Arthur stood in the doorway, glaring at me coldly. Maya screamed for help. “Arthur, save me! She’s trying to kill me!” I pressed down hard on Maya, looking at Arthur, and roared, “If Maya Harper ever shows her face in our house again, I will kill her!” “What did you say?” Arthur frowned. I scoffed coldly. “I don’t repeat myself!” Arthur was stunned. He had probably never seen me like this—eyes bloodshot, veins bulging on my hands, acting like a mother wolf protecting her cub. Chloe ran over and hugged my leg. “Godmother…” Maya used the distraction to struggle. I applied pressure with my hand, and she instantly stopped moving. “Arthur!” she cried out. “Are you just going to watch her bully me?” Arthur remained silent for a long time. So long that Maya’s crying began to trail off. Finally, he spoke. “Take her back.” The bodyguards standing nearby were also stunned. “Are you deaf?!” Arthur’s voice rose. Two bodyguards immediately stepped forward, and only then did I release my grip. They hauled Maya up. She glared at Arthur in disbelief. “Arthur? You’re treating me like this?” Arthur looked away. “Just go home for now.” “Arthur Sterling! You—” She was dragged out, her curses fading into the distance. That night, for the first time ever, Arthur didn’t go to comfort Maya. He leaned against the headboard, scrolling through his phone. I lay on the other side of the bed, my back turned to him. In the darkness, he suddenly spoke up. “You were too impulsive today.” I didn’t say anything. “However…” he paused. “Maya was definitely out of line, but I believe she didn’t mean to do it.” I sneered. “She hit my daughter, so of course it doesn’t hurt you.” He sighed. “Don’t say that. Chloe is my daughter too, how could I not feel bad for her?” I let out a cold laugh, choosing not to expose his lie, and just said, “Go to sleep.” He shifted closer, wrapping his arms tightly around me from behind. It was an intimate posture, just like a real married couple. But all I felt was disgust. Chapter 5 On the first day of spring, Arthur surprisingly had some free time and suggested taking the kids to the country club. The men headed out to the golf course, while the wives sat in the lounge area, sipping tea and chatting. Chloe sat next to me, drinking orange juice. “Chloe, is your godfather good at golf?” Mrs. Bennett asked curiously. Chloe set her cup down and said earnestly, “My godfather doesn’t know how to play golf, but my daddy does.” “Really?” “Really.” Chloe nodded. “My daddy said he hit a hole-in-one when he was 18, and he gave that little white golf ball to my mommy.” The room fell completely silent. The wives exchanged knowing glances. Arthur never played golf. He considered the sport a waste of time. His expertise lay in the stock market; he knew absolutely nothing about what happened on a golf course. But his biggest rival, Julian… excuse me, Harrison Thorne, was an expert. Harrison had grown up in Hong Kong, where golf was practically mandatory. Fifteen years ago, at a charity golf tournament. Arthur, trying to save face, forced himself onto the course and ended up making a complete fool of himself. But Harrison, with a casual swing, sent the little white ball flying in a perfect arc, landing squarely in the hole. The crowd erupted in cheers. Harrison took off his white glove and, in front of everyone, handed the golf ball, signed with his name, to me, sitting right next to Arthur. Arthur’s face was so dark he looked ready to commit murder. Later, I hid that little white golf ball in the jewelry cabinet in my walk-in closet. My thoughts snapped back to the present. As I turned to pour Chloe some more juice, I caught a glimpse of Arthur standing in the doorway out of the corner of my eye. He had heard every single word. Chapter 6 That night, Arthur went straight to his study as soon as we got home. By 10 PM, he still hadn’t come back to the bedroom. I went downstairs to get some water and saw the light in the study was still on. I pushed the door open. Arthur was sitting at his computer, the country club’s membership list displayed on the screen. “Still awake?” I asked. He looked up at me, his voice low. “What did Chloe mean by what she said today?” I held my water glass, feigning confusion. “What did she say?” Arthur stood up and walked over to me. “She said her daddy hit a hole-in-one and gave the golf ball to her mommy.” “When have I ever hit a hole-in-one? When have I ever given you a golf ball?” I pretended to think for a moment. “She probably saw it in some cartoon. Kids can’t tell the difference between reality and TV.” “Is that so?” Arthur sneered. “Stella, are you sure?” “What else could it be?” I shot back. “Do you really think I have a lover who plays golf and hits holes-in-one?” Even I was surprised by how sharp my words sounded. It was very unlike my usual self. Arthur was taken aback too. He stared at me, stared for a long time, and finally waved his hand. “Forget it. Go to sleep.” Although I obediently went to bed, he didn’t sleep. Over the next few days, he launched a frantic investigation. He questioned the club manager, checked my credit card statements, and interrogated anyone who interacted with me regularly. Just as Arthur was about to dig deeper, Maya threw a massive fit. She marched right into the Sterling Group headquarters, dragging Leo behind her, and caused a huge scene at the front desk. I happened to be waiting for the elevator and heard the chaos outside. “I want to see Arthur Sterling! Now! Immediately!” “Ms. Harper, Mr. Sterling is in a meeting…” “I don’t care about his meeting! Tell him to come out here!” I walked over and saw Maya, her hair a mess, her eyes swollen like walnuts. Little Leo was hiding behind a chair, crying in fear. Employees formed a circle around them, no one daring to step forward. When Maya saw me, she got even more riled up. “Stella Hayes! Arthur doesn’t love you at all! He should have divorced you and married me ages ago!” Before I could even respond, Arthur yelled sternly, “Maya, what the hell are you doing?!” “I’m making a scene?!” Maya shrieked. “Arthur Sterling, you said you’d marry me as soon as I gave you a son! Look how big Leo is now! How much longer do I have to wait?!” Dead silence. Utter, dead silence. The employees lowered their heads, pretending they hadn’t heard a thing. Arthur grabbed Maya’s arm and dragged her toward the elevator. “We’ll talk upstairs!” “No! We are settling this right here, right now!” Maya struggled. “If you don’t get a divorce, I’m going to leak everything—” “Shut up!” Arthur cut her off fiercely, shoving her into the elevator. The spectacle was over, but the news spread like wildfire. Arthur was completely overwhelmed. Maya was throwing tantrums every day, and the media, catching wind of the drama, started digging up the luxury mansions and sports cars she had received over the years. Arthur was busy trying to pacify her and suppress the news, temporarily putting his investigation into Harrison Thorne on hold. I took advantage of this window to set my next steps in motion. When we got married, Arthur gave me 5% of the Sterling Group’s shares, and transferred a bit more to me over the years. Combined with the shares my family originally held, I now controlled 20%. I had already prepared the transfer agreements for these shares. That night, Arthur came home later than usual. As soon as he entered the bedroom, he threw a stack of photos onto the floor in front of me. I stepped closer to look, my breath catching in my throat. The photos were all of me and Harrison Thorne. I offered a faint smile. “Just catching up over dinner with an old friend. Was it really worth hiring someone to stalk me?” Arthur picked up a photo of Harrison and me hugging and sneered. “Is this how ‘old friends’ act? Stella, do you take me for an idiot?” I ignored him and turned to go take a shower. He grabbed my arm and roared, “Answer my question!” “What exactly is your relationship with Harrison Thorne?”

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Flying home for the holidays with my girlfriend to meet my parents. After we took off, I went to the restroom. When I came out, the woman in the seat next to me was gone. I called a flight attendant, but she insisted I had boarded the plane alone. I asked the other passengers. They all said the seat beside me had been empty the entire time. But I know, I’m absolutely certain, that I got on this plane with my girlfriend. She had just peeled an orange for me, telling me to eat it when I got back from the restroom. How could she have just vanished? I stared at the peeled orange on my tray table and demanded they search the cargo hold and the cockpit. My outburst forced the plane to make an emergency landing at the nearest airport. The airport police came aboard. They searched every inch of the plane but found no trace of my girlfriend. They couldn’t even find a record of her ever existing. They called my parents. My parents told them I’d always been single, that I’d never had a girlfriend. In the end, I was committed to a psychiatric hospital. The other patients beat me to death. When I opened my eyes, I was back on the plane, on the day I was supposed to take my girlfriend home to meet my parents. 1 “Alex, what are you spacing out for? It’s time to board. Let’s get to the gate.” My girlfriend, Sarah, waved our two boarding passes with a smile. Seeing her gentle face, a shiver ran down my spine. I was back. I had been reborn. I’m twenty-seven, and Sarah and I have been together for three years. I decided to finally take her home to meet my parents for the holidays. I never imagined that this one decision would lead to her vanishing without a trace, and to my own death. Thinking back on my previous life, my mind is still a complete fog. I can’t figure it out. How could a living, breathing person like Sarah just disappear mid-flight? Why did the flight attendant and all the passengers, who I know saw us board together, all sing the same tune, insisting they’d never seen her? And my parents… they’ve always doted on me. They knew we’d been dating for three years. Why would they lie and say I’d never had a girlfriend? “Alex, you look terrible. Are you feeling okay?” Sarah was looking at me, her brow furrowed with concern. A pang of grief hit me. For three years, she had been nothing but good to me. She knew I had a sensitive stomach, and though she’d never cooked before, she learned just for me, preparing three meals a day without fail. In over a thousand days together, we never once had a fight. That’s why her disappearance in my past life had driven me mad, why I had risked everything to find her. I still don’t know what really happened then, but I refuse to let history repeat itself. I looked at Sarah, my voice tight with a fear that was all too real. “Maybe… maybe we shouldn’t take this flight. We could change it, or take a train instead.” Sarah blinked, then her expression softened into a fond smile. “What are you talking about, silly?” “It’s the holiday travel rush. There aren’t any other tickets.” “We spent three days trying to get these. If we cancel them, we won’t be able to go home at all.” She was right. Changing our plans was impossible. But the thought of getting on this specific plane, knowing it led to one of us dead and the other missing, made my stomach churn with anxiety. What could I do? Was there no other way? Wait. In my last life, the reason I was sent to a psych ward was because no one except me could prove Sarah had ever been on that plane. So this time, all I need to do is create undeniable proof that she boarded with me. With that thought, I pulled out my phone. Arm in arm with Sarah, I started snapping pictures of us as we walked through the gate, down the jet bridge, and onto the plane. I documented everything until we were in our seats and the cabin doors were sealed. Then, I posted a photo dump to my social media feed with the caption: “Boarded and ready to go! Taking the girl home to meet the parents.” The post immediately started racking up likes and comments: “So sweet! Wishing you guys the best~” “Wow, meeting the parents! It’s getting serious! Congrats!” “Safe travels! Can’t wait for the wedding!” Just to be safe, I took one more photo of us holding our boarding passes together and sent it to my family’s group chat. “Mom, Dad, Sarah and I are on the plane. We’ll land in three hours.” My mom replied instantly: “We finally get to meet our future daughter-in-law! Your father and I have already bought all the groceries. We’re just waiting for you to get home!” 2 Seeing my mom’s reply and the dozens of well wishes on my post, I finally let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. There. Now no one could possibly say I didn’t have a girlfriend. As the plane began to taxi, the flight attendant instructed everyone to switch their phones to airplane mode. Then, she started beverage service. When she got to our row, the flight attendant, Jessica, had the same mishap as last time. Another passenger bumped into her, causing her to spill a little orange juice on me. “Oh, I’m so sorry, so sorry,” Jessica apologized, reaching for some napkins. But Sarah was quicker. She was already dabbing at the stain on my shirt with a tissue. “It’s okay, I’ve got it,” she said gently. Jessica offered a polite smile of thanks. Then she looked at me and said with genuine warmth, “Your girlfriend is so sweet.” I stared at Jessica, really stared at her. In my last life, she had said those exact words. But after Sarah vanished, when I frantically asked if she’d seen my girlfriend, she had just looked at me with a blank expression. “Sir, are you sure you’re not mistaken?” “I’m quite sure I saw you board alone.” To prevent her from changing her story this time, I immediately put on a friendly smile. “Could I ask you for a small favor?” Jessica looked at me, puzzled. “What is it?” I held up my phone. “Today is the first time I’m taking my girlfriend home to meet my parents, and I want to document the trip. Would you mind taking a quick photo with us?” “Just as a memento.” Jessica nodded without hesitation. “Of course.” We snapped a quick selfie: me, Sarah, and Jessica the flight attendant. I saved the photo carefully, then turned my attention to the elderly man sitting across the aisle, Mr. Peters. He was in his late sixties, and his seat was the closest to ours. In my past life, another passenger had bumped into him while he was finding his seat, and Sarah had been the one to catch him and help him get settled. He had thanked her profusely at the time. That’s why he was the first person I had asked. But his response had been chillingly firm. He claimed the seat next to me had been empty the entire flight. To make sure he remembered Sarah this time, I gently tapped him on the shoulder. “Excuse me, sir.” He looked up. “Yes?” I feigned nervousness and gestured toward Sarah. “I was just wondering… what do you think of my girlfriend? My parents haven’t met her yet, and I’m a little anxious.” Mr. Peters gave Sarah a thorough, kind look, then nodded in approval. “She’s a very beautiful young woman. A perfect match for you.” “Your parents will be thrilled.” His answer was a small relief. I thanked him and sank back into my seat, lost in thought. Both Jessica and Mr. Peters had reacted naturally. There was no hesitation in their words, no shiftiness in their eyes. So where did it all go wrong? Why, after interacting directly with Sarah, would they later deny ever having seen her? I decided to take it a step further. I pulled Sarah to her feet. Under her confused gaze, I raised my voice and addressed the entire cabin. “Excuse me, everyone. Sorry to bother you for just a moment.” “Today is a very important day for me. I’m taking my girlfriend home to meet my parents for the first time. We’ve been together for three years, and we’re planning to get engaged right after this trip.” “To be flying with all of you at thirty thousand feet on such a special occasion feels like a unique kind of fate. So, I was hoping you could all give us your blessing. Would that be okay?” A ripple of interest went through the cabin as all eyes turned to us. They didn’t disappoint. A warm, friendly round of applause filled the air. “Congratulations! Wishing you a lifetime of happiness!” “You two are so cute together! All the best!” “Can’t wait for the wedding!” Amid the chorus of good wishes, Sarah beamed, her cheeks flushed a bright red. After thanking everyone, she quickly pulled me back into my seat. “Alex, what has gotten into you today?” she whispered, embarrassed but pleased. “You’re being so public.” I squeezed her hand tightly, my voice deadly serious. “I’m just so afraid of losing you.” Now the entire plane was our witness. Nothing could possibly go wrong this time. 3 Hearing my words, Sarah gently stroked my hair. “Silly. I love you so much. How could I ever let you lose me?” “You’re just nervous about me meeting your parents, aren’t you?” To calm my nerves, she pulled an orange, my favorite fruit, from her carry-on bag. She peeled it carefully and held a segment to my lips. “Stop overthinking. Have something to eat. We still have over an hour to go.” I looked at the piece of orange she offered, and my blood ran cold. This was the exact moment. In my last life, I felt the urge to use the restroom right then. When I came back, she was gone. Only the peeled orange remained. I felt the same urge now, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave my seat. I ate the orange slice, my grip on her hand tightening. “From this moment on, you are not to leave my sight for a single second.” Sarah gave a helpless smile. “Okay, okay. I won’t move an inch.” Just as she said that, the plane gave a violent lurch. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are experiencing some turbulence. Please remain in your seats with your seatbelts fastened and hold on to your armrests.” As the announcement played, the shaking grew worse. The cabin lights flickered erratically, then went out completely, plunging us into absolute darkness. Everyone gripped their armrests, frozen in place. Two seconds later, the lights flickered back on. The plane stabilized. Still shaken, my first instinct was to grab the arm next to me. But my hand met nothing but air. I whipped my head to the side. Sarah’s seat was empty. The orange was still on the tray table. But Sarah was gone. She was just holding my hand a second ago! How could she have disappeared in the blink of an eye? A suffocating wave of panic washed over me. I tore off my seatbelt and jumped to my feet, my eyes darting wildly around the cabin. I checked the aisles, the restrooms, even under the seats. Nothing. She was nowhere. Sarah had vanished again. “Flight attendant! Flight attendant!” I yelled, my voice cracking. Jessica rushed over. “Sir, what’s wrong?” I pointed a trembling finger at the empty seat. “My girlfriend! She’s gone!” “She was here during the turbulence, but when the lights went out, she disappeared!” Jessica’s brow furrowed. She glanced at the empty seat, her expression one of pure confusion. “Sir, are you sure you’re not mistaken?” “We only saw you board the plane. We didn’t see a girlfriend with you.” There it was again. That same blank, bewildered look. Those same chillingly familiar words. My heart hammered against my ribs. I fumbled for my phone, scrolling frantically through my photo album. “How could you not have seen her?” I shouted. “You just took a picture with us…” My voice died in my throat. I froze. The photo of the three of us—me, Sarah, and Jessica—was gone. My social media post with all our pictures, my message to the family group chat… everything had vanished without a trace. What was happening? “Sir, I don’t know what photo you’re talking about, but I truly have never seen the girlfriend you describe.” “We are currently in flight. Please return to your seat and fasten your seatbelt.” I ignored her and turned to Mr. Peters. “Sir, you saw her, didn’t you? You just saw my girlfriend!” “You even said she was beautiful and that my parents would love her.” Mr. Peters looked up at me, completely baffled. “Young man, what are you talking about?” “When did I say anything about your girlfriend? I’ve never even seen her.” “From the moment we boarded until now, I’ve only seen you sitting there by yourself. This seat next to you has been empty the whole time!” His tone was so certain, so matter-of-fact, as if he was stating the most obvious truth in the world. But that only made my fear spike. “That’s impossible!” “You just complimented her a few minutes ago! She’s been with me this whole time! You had to have seen her!” My outburst drew strange looks from the other passengers. “Hey, buddy, I remember you getting on alone, too.” “The seat next to you has been empty the whole flight. What girlfriend are you talking about?” “Are you okay? Maybe the turbulence scared you, and you’re… confused or something?” I looked at the sea of questioning faces, my mind reeling. “But you all just applauded for us! You wished us a lifetime of happiness! You congratulated us!” “Have you all forgotten?!” A wave of confused murmurs and shaking heads swept through the cabin. “Applause? For what?” “It’s been quiet this whole flight. No one was congratulating anyone.” “Hey kid, you don’t look so good. Maybe you should sit down and rest.” They spoke one after another, their expressions open, their gazes clear. It was as if the moment of shared celebration had never happened. 4 But how could that be? I remembered it all so clearly. The events, the images, they were burned into my mind. There was no mistake. How could a living person just vanish at thirty thousand feet? Why was everyone denying they had ever seen her? And why had all the photos on my phone disappeared? “Sarah, where are you?!” I was on the verge of a complete breakdown, screaming her name into the void. Jessica and the other flight attendants closed in, trying to calm me down. “Sir, your behavior is disturbing the other passengers. Please return to your seat and remain quiet.” I shook my head wildly. “No! My girlfriend is missing! I have to find her!” My continued shouting forced the pilot to divert the flight. We made an emergency landing at the nearest airport. The moment the cabin door opened, several airport police officers boarded the plane. Jessica immediately pointed me out to the lead officer, a stern-looking man named Detective Russo. “It’s him. He boarded alone but insists his girlfriend disappeared from the plane. He refuses to listen to reason and has been causing a disturbance.” Desperate to avoid being sent back to the psych ward, I forced myself to speak calmly. “Officer, I’m not causing trouble. I’m looking for my girlfriend, Sarah. She was on this plane with me, and now she’s gone.” “She has to be here somewhere. Please, I’m begging you, help me find her.” My pleas must have seemed genuine enough, because Detective Russo eventually agreed to search the plane. They were meticulous, but in the end, they found nothing. Detective Russo looked me over, his expression grim. “We’ve searched the aircraft from top to bottom, even checked every passenger’s luggage. There is no sign of the woman you described.” “A person can’t just vanish from a plane, son. Are you absolutely certain she boarded with you?” Tears of frustration welled in my eyes. “I’m certain.” “I took pictures of the entire boarding process and posted them online! I sent a photo to my family! I know the posts are gone now, but my parents and my friends, they all saw them!” My conviction seemed to sway him. Detective Russo took down my parents’ number and made the call right there. But when he asked my mother if she had seen the photo I sent to the group chat, her voice came through the speaker, laced with confusion. “What photo? I didn’t see any photo.” “And my son has always been single. He’s never had a girlfriend.” My world shattered. I grabbed the phone, my voice trembling with disbelief. “Mom, what are you talking about? You knew I was bringing Sarah home! You’ve known about her for three years!” There was a two-second pause, then my mom’s voice, even more bewildered than before. “Alex, what on earth are you saying? Your father and I have been nagging you for years to find a girlfriend, and you always said you weren’t interested in dating.” “You’ve been single all this time. How could you possibly have a girlfriend of three years?” What was happening? Why was my mom denying it all, just like last time? But I had my friends. My social media post. They could prove it. “My friends can vouch for me!” I said desperately to Detective Russo. “I posted about it! They all knew I was bringing my girlfriend home to meet my parents!” Detective Russo, patient but skeptical, contacted the friends whose names I gave him, the same friends who had commented on my post. Their responses were identical. “A social media post? I didn’t see anything.” “Alex? He’s famously single in our friend group. There’s no way he has a girlfriend.” “I’ve known him since we were kids. He’s never mentioned a girlfriend, let alone posted about one online. That’s impossible.” No matter who Detective Russo called, the answer was the same. No one had seen my post. And everyone was certain I didn’t have a girlfriend. But I saw their comments. I saw their blessings under my photos! What in God’s name was going on? As I stood there, utterly lost, the other passengers began to complain. “See? The guy’s got issues. He imagined a non-existent girlfriend and caused all this trouble.” “Yeah, even his own parents and friends say he’s single. How can he stand there and keep looking for someone who isn’t real?” “What a waste of time. I’m trying to get home for the holidays, and we’re stuck here because of some psycho.” “Just take him to a mental hospital already and let us get on with our lives.” The cabin was filled with angry murmurs. Detective Russo shook his head wearily and gave the order. “Take him to the hospital for an evaluation.”

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Right after I found out I was pregnant, my husband’s first love—the woman he had pined for over ten years—returned to the country. He didn’t hesitate for a second. He threw a divorce agreement on the table and demanded I sign. I walked away with absolutely nothing. I secretly gave birth to my daughter, assuming our lives would never cross paths again. Until five years later. Desperate to scrape together enough money for my daughter’s life-saving surgery, I took a job as an escort at an underground VIP nightclub. When we met again, he was sitting in the center booth, surrounded by men treating him like royalty. One of his rich friends pointed a cigar at my heavily made-up face and laughed maliciously. “Declan, this one’s gorgeous. Mind if I drag her to the bathroom for a quick spin?” Declan slowly lifted his eyes. His cold gaze locked onto my face. He let out a low, mocking chuckle, reached into his pocket, and tossed a foil packet onto the glass table. “Be my guest. Just make sure you use that. You don’t want to catch whatever diseases she has.” … I forced my hips to sway as I walked over and picked the foil packet off the glass. Then, moving smoothly, I dropped to my knees right beside Declan’s tailored suit pants. I tilted my head up, forcing my voice to sound sickeningly sweet. “Thank you for the gift, Mr. Molesley.” “You’re so generous. As long as the price is right, I can belong to anyone tonight.” Someone in the booth whistled sharply, laughing. “Damn, Declan, your ex-wife knows how to play the game!” “No kidding. She’s way looser than the professionals we usually hire. I bet she’s a wild ride.” Declan’s friend grinned, leaning over and gripping my arm tightly, hauling me to my feet. “Come on, sweetheart. Let me show you a good time!” Every alarm bell in my head was screaming, but I didn’t dare fight back. This was their territory. I kept a frozen smile on my face as he half-dragged, half-carried me toward the private restrooms down the hall. I threw a desperate look back over my shoulder at Declan. He sat perfectly still, his face an emotionless mask, slowly lighting a cigarette. He didn’t lift a finger to stop it. The second we hit the bathroom doorway, the rich kid’s hands started aggressively wandering, his breath reeking of expensive liquor. “Stop playing hard to get, beautiful. Declan threw you away like trash. Who are you putting on this act for?” “Let me take care of you, and I’ll make sure you never have to work a day in your life.” The sheer terror in my eyes finally broke through my makeup. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted an empty whiskey bottle resting on the sink counter. Using every ounce of adrenaline in my body, I grabbed it by the neck and smashed it down onto his wrist. He howled in agony, his grip loosening just enough. I shoved him backward and ran for my life, tearing back down the hallway in a blind panic. I crashed headfirst into a solid, unmoving chest. Gasping for air, I looked up. I was staring straight into Declan’s icy, calculating eyes. He wasn’t angry. Instead, he looked down at me, the corner of his mouth lifting in a cruel, amused smirk as he took in my disheveled, terrified state. “What’s wrong?” “Did you price yourself out of the market?” The men who had followed him out into the hall started jeering. “What’s the matter, Stella? Was his offer too low? Come on, give us a number!” Declan’s voice cut through the noise, dropping the temperature in the room. “Or maybe he just wasn’t enough man for you. You want me to take you for a test drive instead?” Instead of breaking down under the humiliation, I leaned into the madness. I dropped to my knees right on the sticky club floor, landing back at his feet. I reached out, my trembling fingers grazing the hem of his trousers, and offered him the most broken, wretched smile I could muster. “You’re too funny, Mr. Molesley. Of course I’d rather have you take me for a test drive.” “It’s just… his offer was insulting.” “You know me. I’m incredible in bed, but my rates are steep.” “If the price is right, you don’t even need to test drive me. You can break me.” The mockery in his eyes darkened into something violent. He pulled his leather wallet from his jacket, pulled out a thick stack of hundred-dollar bills, and violently slapped the entire stack directly across my face. His voice was pure venom. “You want to negotiate? Fine.” “Two grand for every slap.” “How much can you take?” I needed twenty thousand dollars to hit the hospital’s account by tomorrow morning, or my daughter would be taken off life support. Without a second of hesitation, I nodded. My cheek was stinging, but I kept the smile plastered on. “I can take it. Keep them coming. Thank you, Mr. Molesley.” He raised his hand. He didn’t hold back. The first strike connected with a sickening crack. My left ear instantly started ringing in a high-pitched whine. “That’s for insulting my friend.” The second strike snapped my head to the side. “That’s to remind you of your place.” The men in the hallway watched with morbid fascination. I saw camera flashes going off as they recorded the spectacle. Surrounded by a crowd of laughing billionaires, I stayed on my knees, smiling through split lips, taking over a dozen full-force slaps without making a single sound. My cheeks swelled grotesquely, and the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth, dripping down my chin. Eventually, he grew bored. He lowered his hand, his chest heaving slightly. He pulled a pristine white handkerchief from his breast pocket and meticulously wiped the hand he had used to beat me, pressing hard into the skin. As if he had just touched raw sewage. He dropped the soiled cloth onto my battered face. His voice was a quiet, devastating sneer. “The old Mrs. Molesley used to be so high and mighty, completely untouchable. Look at you now. You’re cheaper than a stray dog.” I scrambled to pick up the scattered bills off the floor, swallowing the blood pooling in my mouth to force out a laugh. “You’re absolutely right, sir. But a stray dog doesn’t know how to beg for cash the way I do, does she?” Clutching the thick wad of life-saving cash to my chest, I ignored the throbbing agony in my skull and practically crawled my way out of the club, stumbling into the night air. As the heavy doors swung shut behind me, I faintly heard a woman’s soft, elegant voice calling his name from down the hall. It was the voice he had always loved. The gentleness that used to be mine, but never would be again. In the dingy employee locker room, I stood over the rusted sink, desperately splashing freezing water onto my destroyed face. The woman in the cracked mirror had bruised, swollen cheeks and a busted lip, but her eyes were burning with a terrifying, feral light. I gripped the wet cash in my fist. There was only one thought keeping me breathing. If it meant saving my daughter, I wouldn’t just become a dog. I would become a monster. And I would do it gladly. 2 The moment I pushed through the back doors of the nightclub, my phone began vibrating violently in my cheap purse. It was the hospital. “Are you the mother of the patient in bed 23? The child’s vitals just crashed. She needs emergency surgery right now. We need you here to sign the consent forms! We’ve been trying to reach you!” The nurse’s voice was cracking with panic. “If you don’t get here in the next ten minutes, we’re going to lose her!” An icy fist seized my heart, squeezing until I couldn’t breathe. A torrential downpour had hit the city. I stood on the curb, instantly soaked to the bone by the freezing rain, frantically waving at empty cabs that sped right past me. Panic clawed at my throat. I was seconds away from throwing myself in front of moving traffic just to force a car to stop. Suddenly, a massive black SUV swerved aggressively through the puddle in front of me, throwing a wave of dirty water over my legs, and slammed on the brakes. The tinted window hummed downward, revealing Declan’s handsome, shadow-drenched face. Bathed in the warm, ambient light of the luxury interior, Serena—his untouchable first love—was leaning intimately against his shoulder. When she saw me standing in the storm looking like a drowned rat, a flash of vicious triumph flickered in her eyes. It vanished instantly, replaced by a mask of angelic, heartbreaking pity. She reached out, gently tugging at Declan’s suit sleeve, her voice trembling with manufactured concern. “Declan, isn’t that… Stella? What is she doing out here? Look at her, she’s freezing. And her face… it’s awful.” She paused perfectly, letting her voice drop into a conspiratorial whisper. “I heard some rumors recently… people are saying she got mixed up with some lowlife guy. He doesn’t work, and he’s deep in debt to loan sharks. You don’t think she’s running out in the middle of a storm to give him the money you just threw at her, do you? Declan, that cash you gave her…” It was a masterclass in manipulation. She knew exactly which buttons to press to trigger his deepest insecurities and rage. Declan’s face instantly hardened into a mask of pure, lethal fury. He turned to look at the “fragile” woman clinging to him, his expression softening for a fraction of a second, before barking a cold order at his driver. “Take Serena home first.” Mission accomplished. Serena offered a meek, obedient nod, but right before the tinted glass rolled up, she shot me a look of pure, unadulterated victory. The heavy SUV peeled away into the storm, abandoning me on the sidewalk. I let out a ragged breath of relief, thinking the nightmare was over, and sprinted down the block trying to flag down another taxi. But less than five minutes later, the black SUV came roaring back up the street, performing a violent, screeching U-turn and slamming to a halt inches from my knees. The rear door was kicked open from the inside. Declan stepped out into the pouring rain alone. He had ripped off his tie. He stalked toward me, the violence in his eyes completely unhinged. He hated the idea that I was degrading myself to fund another man’s life. But he hated it even more that I dared to look so utterly broken and desperate in front of him. “In a rush to go bail out your deadbeat boyfriend?” He lunged forward, grabbing a fistful of my soaking wet hair, and brutally slammed me backward against the cold metal hood of the car. The rain battered against my swollen face. “Drop the innocent martyr act!” His breath was hot against my ear, his voice a low, terrifying growl. “Are you really that desperate for a man, Stella?” “Five grand. Right here on the hood of the car. Are you taking it or not?” Without Serena there to perform for, his cruelty became visceral and completely unrestrained. Hearing the dollar amount, my desperate thrashing froze for a split second. I turned my head. Rain and tears tracked through the drying blood on my face as I forced out a grotesque, hollow smile. “Only five?” “You’re insulting me, Declan.” I forced my chest upward, leaning into the degradation. “What’s wrong? Your precious first love just left and you’re already starved for attention?” “Makes sense. I’ve always been a much better ride than her anyway.” That was the final match in the powder keg. The last thread of his sanity snapped. His hand shot to my throat, his fingers tightening like a steel vice, threatening to crush my windpipe. As his vision narrowed in blind rage, I seized my chance. I brought my hand up and dragged my jagged fingernails violently down the side of his neck, leaving three deep, bleeding gashes. I screamed, my voice tearing my vocal cords. “You’re going to rot in hell for this, Declan!” 3 The stinging pain on his neck obliterated whatever was left of his self-control. His eyes went dead. He yanked the heavy car door open and threw me into the back seat like a bag of garbage. He slammed the door, the electronic locks clicking shut with a heavy thud, and shouted at the driver through the partition. “Drive. Take us to the cliffside estate.” I knew I had pushed too far. I thought antagonizing him would make him disgusted enough to throw me back onto the street. Instead, I had trapped myself. As the car accelerated, pulling me further and further away from the hospital, I dropped to my knees on the floorboards. I didn’t care about my pride anymore. I threw my upper body forward, slamming my forehead against the expensive leather of his seat. The dull thud echoed in the quiet cabin. “Declan, I’m begging you. I was wrong!” “I have an emergency! Someone is going to die!” “Just let me go to this one place! Just this one place!” “Once I’m done, I’ll come right back to you! You can kill me for all I care, just let me go!” He stared down at me, his eyes entirely devoid of humanity. He was getting high off the absolute power he held over my suffering. “Your life is worthless.” He casually adjusted his cuffs, entirely unbothered by my screaming. “I just wanted to see you crawling on your knees like a dog. It’s incredibly entertaining.” In his warped mind, my total breakdown was just a theatrical performance to get back to my imaginary lover. “What’s the matter? Your little toy boy taking his last breath?” “Is he really worth throwing away your last shred of dignity for?” At that exact second, my phone started vibrating violently in my wet pocket. In the dim light of the backseat, the bright screen illuminated the interior. The caller ID flashed in massive, bold letters: “City Gen – Pediatric ICU.” It was the lifeline. The only hope my daughter had left. I let out a choked sob and threw myself at my pocket, clawing desperately for the phone. But Declan was faster. He snatched the device out of my hand. He glanced at the caller ID, and the cruel smirk on his face deepened. “City Gen Pediatric ICU?” He read the words aloud like the punchline to a pathetic joke. “You changed your boyfriend’s contact name, and you actually hired someone to call you? You went through all this effort just to trick me into letting you out of this car?” “Wow, Stella. Let’s see how deep your commitment to this little play goes.” Right in front of my horrified eyes, he swiped to answer the call. And just to twist the knife, he put it on speaker. Dr. Harrison’s voice ripped through the speakers, his usual calm demeanor completely shattered. “Stella! Where the hell are you?! The child’s heart rate is plunging! I need you here to sign off on the bypass right now! Every second you’re not here, she is slipping away!” It was the sound of the grim reaper standing over my baby’s bed. Hearing that voice, my organs felt like they were liquefying. I threw myself over the center console, screaming at the top of my lungs. “Doctor! Save her! I’m coming—” Declan’s large hand clamped brutally over my mouth, cutting off my scream, as he forced me back down against the seat. He leaned toward the phone. His voice was casual, bored, without a single drop of empathy. “She’s busy.” The doctor froze for a second. “Who is this? The patient is coding…” Declan let out a harsh laugh, cutting the doctor off mid-sentence. “Save the script. I’ve seen better acting in soap operas. Tell the kid to stop playing dead. It’s not going to work.” “If she wants to pull the plug, let her. Deal with it yourselves.” He didn’t wait for a response. His thumb hit the red button, killing the call. Then, he rolled down the tinted window. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed my phone—my only connection to my dying child—out the window and into the black abyss of the highway overpass. I stared blankly at the window. I watched the tiny, glowing rectangle vanish into the rain. It felt as though I was watching the monitor tracking my daughter’s heartbeat flatline in real time. A sound tore out of my throat—a guttural, inhuman shriek of pure agony. I lost my mind. I threw myself at him, snapping my teeth, trying to rip out his throat. He backhanded me so hard my vision flashed white, and I collapsed against the far door. My ears rang violently. The car tore through the rain, heading into the mountains, leaving the hospital miles behind us. I curled into a tight, trembling ball on the floorboards, clutching my chest as the invisible blades shredded my heart into ribbons. I could feel it in my bones. The most important piece of my soul was fading away into the dark. When we reached the isolated estate, he dragged my limp body into a guest room and threw me onto the rug like a corpse. The heavy oak door slammed shut, and the lock clicked into place. “You’re not leaving this room tonight.” His voice bled through the wood, cold and absolute. “Spend the night figuring out how to properly get on your knees and beg.” 4 The next morning, I lay paralyzed on the cold carpet. My eyes were wide open, staring blankly at the ceiling, completely dead inside. The extreme trauma and grief had triggered a violent physical response. My body began to convulse, burning with a terrifyingly high fever. Declan unlocked the door, intending to continue his psychological torture. But when he saw me, he froze. My lips were cracked and bleeding, my skin the color of ash. He reached down to touch my forehead. The blistering heat radiating from my skin made him snatch his hand back like he’d been burned. He let out a frustrated breath, cursing under his breath. “Damn it.” “Who are you pretending to die for? Don’t do it in my house. It’s disgusting.” Despite the venom in his words, he bent down, scooped my shaking body into his arms, and carried me to the car, speeding toward the nearest hospital. By pure, horrific coincidence, the closest emergency room was City General. In the passenger seat, I was drifting in and out of consciousness. But my cracked lips kept moving, chanting the same broken prayer over and over. “Too late… I’m too late… My Penny…” Declan gripped the steering wheel, sneering. “Still acting? You never quit, do you?” When I finally woke up from the IV drip in the ER, the overwhelming stench of bleach and iodine slammed into my senses, dragging me out of the darkness. My eyes snapped open. My heart hammered against my ribs—the terrifying, biological alarm of a mother who knew her child was gone. I ripped the IV out of my arm, ignoring the blood running down my hand, and tried to bolt for the door to find my daughter. Declan stepped into the room and grabbed my wrist, crushing it in his grip. He glared down at me, unleashing a barrage of insults. “Are you out of your mind? Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” “Still trying to run back to your pathetic loser boyfriend?” “You collapsing in my house forced me to bring you here. Serena found out. She thinks you’re putting on this sick little show to seduce me! She’s locked in her room crying right now!” “Get up. You’re coming with me to apologize to her. You’re going to get on your knees and explain everything.” The roaring in my ears drowned out his psychotic rambling. I didn’t care about him. I didn’t care about his precious Serena. I wanted my baby. With a surge of hysterical strength, I shoved him backward. I didn’t even stop to put my shoes on. Barefoot, I sprinted down the linoleum hallway toward the Pediatric ICU. “Have you lost your damn mind?! Come back here!” Declan’s furious shouts echoed behind me, but I didn’t look back. I crashed through the double doors of the ICU wing and sprinted to Bed 23. A nurse was quietly stripping the sheets off an empty mattress. That bed. I had spent months sleeping in a plastic chair next to that bed. I lunged forward, grabbing the nurse’s arm with a grip like a vise. My entire body was shaking so violently my teeth rattled. “Excuse me… where is the girl from Bed 23?” “Where is my baby?” The nurse turned. When she recognized my face, her eyes filled with a heavy, devastating sorrow. “You’re the mother?” “I am so sorry. We did absolutely everything we could.” “At 2 AM last night, she went into multi-organ failure. We desperately needed you to sign the authorization for the bypass.” She let out a shaky sigh. “We called you dozens of times. It just kept going to voicemail.” “Right before she passed, she kept crying out for you… There was nothing more we could do.” “She’s gone. Transport just took her down to the morgue.” Last night. 2 AM. The exact moment he ripped the phone out of my hand and threw it off the bridge. The exact moment he locked me in a dark room and smothered my only hope of saving her. A sickening, metallic warmth surged up my throat. I couldn’t hold it back. I violently coughed, and a spray of dark blood erupted from my lips, splattering across the pristine white tiles of the hospital floor. Declan finally caught up to me. Seeing the blood dripping from my chin, the rage vanished from his face, replaced by sudden shock. He opened his mouth, stepping forward to say something. I slowly turned to face him. My face was smeared with my own blood, but the corners of my mouth stretched upward into a smile so twisted, so completely broken, it barely looked human. I stared right through him, forcing the words out of my ruined throat. “Declan. Congratulations.” He froze, his eyes widening. I enunciated every single syllable. “You personally killed your own biological daughter.”

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A trip to the mountains with my husband and best friend. Then the blizzard hit. Now, we’re trapped. The three of us were snowed in. My best friend, Zoe, suggested she and my husband, Mark, go out to find supplies, leaving me to rest in our rented cabin with a raging fever. I don’t know how much time passed before a frantic pounding rattled the door. Mark’s voice, raw with panic and pain, tore through the wood. “Ava! Open the door, please! Zoe’s lost it! She went crazy over the supplies, she… she cut me!” Just then, a text from Zoe lit up my phone. “Ava, run! Don’t you dare open that door! Mark is trying to kill us! I’m hiding outside, don’t trust a word he says!” I stared at the two conflicting messages, a cold sweat breaking out across my skin. The first time this happened, I chose to trust Zoe. I didn’t open the door. In the end, Zoe hacked Mark to death with an axe, then broke into the cabin and strangled the life out of me. The second time, I chose to trust Mark. The moment I unlatched the door, he burst in, his eyes wild with madness, and stabbed me until I bled out on the floor. No matter who I chose, the outcome was always the same: death. And I never understood why. Why did they have to kill me? When I opened my eyes again, I was back on that very same day. This time, I would find the truth. 1 I snapped back to reality, my hand hovering over the doorknob. I snatched it back as if the metal were white-hot. The ghosts of my two previous deaths were still fresh, a chilling dread coiling in my gut. Hearing my silence, Mark began to hammer on the door with more force. “Ava, hurry! You have to let me in before she gets back! If she finds us together, we’re both dead!” My phone buzzed again. It was Zoe, calling me. Her voice was a ragged whisper. “Ava! Don’t open that door! He’s lying! Think about it—Mark’s a gym rat. How could I possibly overpower him?” “Besides,” she continued, her logic sharp despite her panicked tone, “if I was the one who hurt him, wouldn’t I have gotten back here first? Why did he, the injured one, beat me to the cabin?” From outside, Mark must have heard her voice. His own tone shifted, laced with suspicion. “Ava, who are you talking to?” “Don’t listen to her, Ava! Zoe planned this! She had a fruit knife hidden on her. She told me to scout ahead, then attacked me from behind when my back was turned! I tried to fight her off, but it was too late. My arm is bleeding, and in this blizzard… if I didn’t run, I’d have frozen to death out there with her! I broke free and ran straight back to you!” His performance was drenched in sincerity. I fought against the fog of my fever, my eyes landing on the heavy wooden cabinet in the corner. With a surge of adrenaline, I pushed it against the door, barricading us in. Mark heard the scraping sound and his voice grew frantic. “Ava, what are you doing? Don’t you believe me? Open the door! I’m losing a lot of blood. If I don’t get warm soon, I’m not going to make it! And if something happens to me, you’ll be all alone when she gets here!” When I still didn’t answer, his voice cracked with desperation. “Look! I’ll prove it! I really am hurt!” A pained grunt followed, and then his voice turned weak. “I’m sliding a piece of cloth under the door. It’s soaked in my blood.” “It’s so cold… I was afraid the wound would get infected, so I ripped off a piece of my shirt to wrap it. It’s the only reason I made it back.” I knelt down and picked up the bloody strip of fabric. The coppery tang of blood filled the air, a stark reminder of the danger I was in. He was telling the truth. He was hurt. Just then, another text from Zoe appeared. Ava, he’s tricking you! Look closely at that scrap of fabric. It’s not from his shirt! 2 I rubbed my throbbing temples. She was right. The color and texture of the cloth didn’t match the flannel shirt Mark was wearing. My fever was making it impossible to think clearly. I could only hope their words would reveal the truth. Zoe’s next text came through: Mark wants to kill us to buy himself more time until rescue arrives! He’s the one who tried to hoard the supplies, and now he wants to use us as an emergency food source! A picture followed the text. In it, Zoe’s face was deathly pale. A long, gruesome gash ran across her stomach, the ripped fabric of her parka visible beside it. I didn’t want to worry you, so I didn’t say anything before. This is what he did to me. I was lucky I reacted fast enough to get away. If I hadn’t, I’d be dead. A jolt went through me. She had been my friend for over a decade; my instinct was to worry. Are you okay? I typed back. I’ve patched it up. Don’t worry about me. Now do you believe me? I stared at the photo of the wound, my throat dry. “Send me a video,” I said out loud, as if she could hear me. A photo could be faked. After a moment of silence, a video file appeared. I played it. Zoe, looking exhausted, held up the camera and gave me a grim middle finger. The gash on her stomach was still weeping blood. It looked real. She was definitely hurt. But… I frowned, then carefully lowered myself to the floor, pressing my cheek against the cold wood to peek through the crack beneath the door. The moment I did, a single, bloodshot eye stared right back at me. A short, strangled scream escaped my lips before I clamped my hand over my mouth. “Sorry, Ava, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Mark’s voice came, feigning concern. “You were so quiet, I was worried you’d passed out from the fever.” But the pounding on the door intensified, turning from desperate knocks into violent blows. I scrambled backward, my heart hammering against my ribs, my body slick with cold sweat. The look in Mark’s eye hadn’t been concern. It was the look of a man lost in the desert who’d just stumbled upon an oasis. It was pure, ravenous craving. We were in a tough spot, sure, but we weren’t desperate enough for… cannibalism, were we? What bothered me more was what I’d seen in that brief glimpse. There were indeed drops of blood staining the snow where he knelt. The cotton stuffing was spilling from a tear in his jacket. He hadn’t been lying about that. His voice turned into a pathetic plea. “Ava, please, let me in! I’m so cold… I think I’m getting hypothermia…” His words were faint, but I held my ground. “If you’re telling the truth,” I challenged, “then why isn’t Zoe back yet? It’s been ages.” Mark let out a series of weak coughs. “Did you forget? Zoe has a terrible sense of direction! Without me to guide her, she’s probably wandering in circles right now. If you don’t open this door, she’ll eventually find her way back. She has a weapon, and I’m too weak to fight. We’ll both be finished! I… I don’t have much strength left…” 3 I slapped my forehead, cursing the fever that was clouding my judgment. He was right. Zoe couldn’t find her way out of a paper bag. It’s why she’d insisted Mark go with her instead of them splitting up to search. Just then, a video call from Zoe came through. I hesitated for a second before answering. On the screen, her face was a ghostly white, her lips chapped and dry. Her voice was a hoarse, urgent whisper. “He’s lying! I know my sense of direction is crap, but the ground is covered in fresh snow! He ran off in a panic. All I have to do is follow his footprints! How could I possibly get lost?” “Ava, I’m begging you, don’t open that door! That bloody cloth he gave you? It’s from my jacket! I tore his when I was fighting him off. He’s the one who’s lost his mind, Ava. I don’t dare come back to the cabin. I found a small cave to hide in. I’m trying to call for help. Don’t let him in! Whatever you do, protect yourself!” “You have to wait for me!” She spoke with such intensity that her features seemed to strain with the effort. Her words sent a fresh wave of fear through me, and I backed away from the door, tears welling in my eyes. I grabbed a thick fireplace poker, the only weapon I could find. It wasn’t much, but it was something. My only real hope was that the old wooden door was strong enough to hold. Zoe’s face was ashen. “The knife is in his hand,” she said, her voice dropping lower. “He didn’t tell you that because he’s planning on using it the second you open the door.” When I didn’t respond, she quickly sent another video. This one showed Mark, a vicious sneer on his face, slamming his body against the door while clutching a small, gleaming knife. The sounds in the video perfectly matched the violent thuds coming from outside. My heart plummeted into my stomach. My head felt like it was about to split open. Mark, sensing my hesitation was gone, changed his tone again. It was now laced with a desperate, trembling sincerity. “Ava, don’t believe her! Please! Just open the door a crack. You’ll see.” After a moment’s thought, I cautiously slid the cabinet aside and opened the door just wide enough to peer through with one eye. Mark’s face was pale, his eyebrows frosted with ice. He held up his hands to show they were empty, even turning his pockets inside out. There was no knife. He looked like he was on the verge of collapsing. He offered me a weak, painful smile. “Ava, I’m sending you a video. If you still don’t believe me after this, then… then I guess we’re all going to die here.” A video appeared on my phone. The footage was shaky, clearly filmed by someone terrified. It showed Zoe, a wild look in her eyes, holding a bag of supplies in one hand and a small knife in the other. “See?” Mark whispered from outside. “I risked my life to get proof. I knew you two were close. I was afraid you wouldn’t believe me.” On my other phone, Zoe’s voice rose in panic. “No! Don’t listen to him!” “Ava, look at his throat! Is he swallowing over and over again?” “Mark learned some sideshow tricks when he was younger. That knife isn’t big. He’s hiding it in his throat!” My face paled. Every second I wasted was a second closer to disaster. Forcing myself to stay calm, I peered through the crack again. “Open your mouth,” I demanded. Mark let out a bitter laugh, already slumping against the doorframe. From the phone, Zoe screamed, “Ava! Barricade the door! Now!” Her terror was contagious. I slammed the door shut and shoved the cabinet back into place. At that exact moment, a blood-curdling scream erupted from Zoe’s end of the line, and the call abruptly cut out. Simultaneously, a heart-wrenching cry of anguish came from Mark outside the door. “She’s here!” he yelled. “Zoe found me!” A blurry photo hit my screen, clearly taken in a panic. A woman, her face a mask of rage, was charging at him with an axe. It was blurry, but I could still make out her features. It was Zoe. Mark hammered on the door, his fear palpable. When I still didn’t move, his voice broke into a bitter laugh. “It’s okay, honey. You don’t have to open it. I’m done for anyway. I’m going to charge her, try to buy you some time. When you see an opening, you run!” A guttural roar followed, then the sounds of a struggle—heavy footsteps in the snow, grunts of effort, the clash of something heavy. Tears streamed down my face. I thought of all the happy times we’d shared, unable to comprehend how everything had gone so horribly wrong. What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t face it. I gripped the poker, my hand trembling. I would open the door. To hell with it. We would all die together. In my panic, the phone slipped from my grasp, clattering to the floor. The last video Zoe had sent me flickered on the screen. My eyes locked onto a corner of the frame, and suddenly, everything clicked. The memories of my past lives, the lingering doubts—they all crashed together in my mind. My pupils shrank to pinpricks. A chill colder than the blizzard outside washed over me. Of course. That’s what this was all about.

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Right before I was supposed to meet my online boyfriend in person, my best friend tried her hardest to talk me out of it. I had just blocked and deleted his contact when a floating chat feed suddenly materialized in my line of sight: [Wow, she really fits the ruthless female lead trope. The first thing she does after being reborn is steal her bestie’s billionaire boyfriend. Hilarious!] [The side character is so dumb. One little guilt trip and she deletes her multi-billionaire boyfriend. No wonder she’s just a stepping stone.] [But the female lead isn’t the one who actually chatted with him. What if she gets exposed?] [Relax! Our girl has the looks and the manipulation skills to play that pure-hearted rich boy like a fiddle. Just watch.] While I was still reeling from shock, Harper was still playing the role of the caring friend, her tone full of fake concern. “Amanda, you never know who you’re talking to on the internet. He could be a creep. Deleting him was the right call.” I slowly snapped back to reality and nodded. “Yeah. You make a good point.” 1 Even though I had seemingly blocked and deleted the “male lead”, Harper still wasn’t completely at ease. She probed further, her eyes searching my face. “Amanda, you didn’t send him your pictures, your phone number, or anything that could reveal your real identity, right?” I smiled and shook my head. “I’m not that stupid.” A flash of secret delight crossed Harper’s eyes, though she kept her voice sounding like a wise older sister. “Good. You have to protect your privacy online. Never hand out your personal info to strangers.” I nodded vigorously. “Don’t worry about me. I’m not some naive college freshman anymore. I’ve been in the real world for over a year now. I know how to read people.” Harper stifled a laugh and teased. “Right, right. You’re a seasoned veteran now. So cunning.” I pretended not to catch the dripping sarcasm in her voice and lifted my chin proudly. “Obviously!” Harper secretly rolled her eyes, then faked a yawn. “Amanda, I have my part-time shift tomorrow. I’m going to crash. You should get some sleep too. Night.” I smiled back. “Night.” [The side character is painfully stupid. Getting sold out by the female lead and still counting the cash for her. Hopeless!] [Yeah, but I’m still worried the female lead might blow her cover.] [Don’t stress. She’s a top-tier actress and came fully prepared. She won’t slip up.] [Plus, the female lead is an absolute bombshell with killer curves. Way more seductive than this plain-jane sweet girl. Even if the guy finds out the truth later, he’ll just be glad he ended up with the hot one.] [True that!] [Am I the only one who thinks what the female lead is doing is highly immoral?] [The author literally tagged this as a toxic, selfish female lead story. If you want a saint, go read something else!] I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at the floating text. Seriously? Who actively roots for a homewrecker? 2 Once Harper’s bedroom door clicked shut, I casually strolled back into my own room. I pulled out my phone and unblocked my online boyfriend, adding him right back on a different messaging app. I hadn’t given him my phone number, but I definitely had his. [Holy crap! The side character kept a backup plan!] [Why did she lie to the female lead? Did she catch onto her scheme?] [Not necessarily. Maybe she just got annoyed with the nagging and pretended to delete the guy to shut her up.] [Fingers crossed.] [It doesn’t matter why she lied. What matters is that the female lead has no idea she’s been played!] [Stay calm, the female lead will figure it out. There has to be a plot twist!] A plot twist? We’ll see about that. My boyfriend hadn’t messaged me during that brief window, so he remained blissfully unaware that he had ever been blocked. I slipped into the white dress I had bought specifically for our meetup. I took several selfies, carefully cropping them to only show everything below the bridge of my nose. I picked the most flattering shot and sent it to the contact named “Rowan”. I typed out a quick message: Don’t mistake me for someone else tomorrow, handsome. He replied almost instantly. Rowan: Wouldn’t dream of it! Rowan: You look gorgeous, babe. [Drooling emoji] Amanda: Good to know. Rowan: Your lips are incredible. Can I kiss them tomorrow? The chat feed wasn’t entirely wrong. My overall vibe was sweet and girl-next-door, lacking Harper’s natural, sultry allure. But my lips were my best feature. Naturally flushed and perfectly shaped, they looked incredibly inviting in isolation. Amanda: Not tomorrow. Depends on how you behave. [Winking emoji] Rowan: Challenge accepted! I promise I won’t disappoint. We flirted back and forth for about half an hour before I used sleep as an excuse to cut the conversation short. I could tell he was craving more. But basic psychology dictates that you never give a guy everything he wants all at once. [She actually sent him a picture. I feel like our female lead might be in trouble.] [Chill out. The female lead can turn the tide. Besides, it’s only the lower half of a face. He might not even recognize her.] [But those lips are pretty distinct. If he pays attention, he might be able to tell the difference.] [Doesn’t matter. The guy is obsessed with looks. The female lead will win him over with sheer beauty!] I closed my eyes with a cold smirk. I’d love to see Harper try to turn this tide. Of course, if this so-called “male lead” actually took one look at Harper and fell head over heels, I’d have nothing to say. But even if he was driven by pure lust, I was going to make damn sure he knew that Harper was a manipulative snake who tried to steal her best friend’s man. Harper wouldn’t be leaving any perfect impressions on anyone’s mind. 3 Harper and I had been college roommates. She came from a struggling background with parents who blatantly favored her brother. Her tuition was paid through student loans, and she survived entirely on part-time jobs. My family wasn’t filthy rich, but we were comfortably middle-class. Being an only child, my parents never let me lack for anything. When I found out about her financial struggles, I quietly took her under my wing. I frequently paid for her meals without making a big deal out of it. Whenever I shopped for seasonal clothes, I’d buy her a couple of outfits too. I shared all my expensive skincare and makeup with her. After graduation, we landed jobs at different companies. Knowing she was drowning in loan repayments, I deliberately found an apartment exactly halfway between our offices. I voluntarily covered the entire rent, electricity, and water bills just so she could save every dime. It wasn’t a completely one-sided dynamic, to be fair. In college, she was the one fetching my packages and scrubbing our dorm room. When we moved in together, she took over all the household chores without asking. I never felt it was unfair. I genuinely considered her my best friend. Yet, just to secure a luxurious lifestyle, she resorted to such deceitful tactics to steal my boyfriend. It left me feeling a freezing mixture of heartbreak and rage. If she could throw away years of loyalty for money, she couldn’t blame me for turning ruthless. I tossed and turned that night, finally drifting into a restless sleep around three in the morning. By the time I woke up, it was already ten. At eight sharp, Rowan had sent a message: Morning, gorgeous. Amanda: Morning! Five minutes later, my phone buzzed. Rowan: Sleepyhead. Just woke up? Amanda: Yeah. Taking full advantage of the weekend. Rowan: I respect that. Just don’t forget our date tonight! Amanda: Don’t worry, I won’t. I’ll text you when I’m on my way. See you there. Rowan: Can’t wait! [The female lead still hasn’t noticed anything. She’s in danger.] [There’s still hours left. She has a chance.] [What if the side character just coincidentally gets hit by a car on the way to the meetup?] [Oh man, maybe!] Thanks for the heads-up, floating chat. I’ll be sure to look both ways before crossing the street. 4 After wrapping up the chat, I took my time getting out of bed and throwing on some clothes. When I walked into the kitchen, I noticed a sticky note Harper had left on the dining table. It read in her neat handwriting, “Left some pork and century egg porridge in the pot. Make sure you eat breakfast!” A complex knot formed in my stomach. Harper was only a year older than me, but she had always acted like a protective older sister. She knew I had a habit of sleeping through breakfast on weekends, so she prepared something for me every single morning. I used to find it incredibly touching. Now, it just felt nauseatingly fake. I walked over to the stove, stared at the perfectly cooked, aromatic porridge for a few seconds, then picked up the pot and dumped the entire thing into the trash. [Holy shit! She just threw away the food the female lead made for her. Is she a reincarnated character too?] [Highly likely! I hope the female lead realizes it soon, otherwise she’s going to take a massive hit.] [Stop worrying. Harper is the true protagonist here. Amanda is just a minor roadblock!] Around three in the afternoon, my phone pinged with a message from Harper. Harper: Amanda, I’m stuck working overtime today. I’ll be home late. Just order some takeout or make something simple. I’ll cook your favorite sweet and sour ribs tomorrow. Amanda: Don’t stress about me. Focus on work so they don’t dock your pay. Harper: Will do. I just ordered a mango pomelo sago for you from that place you love. I paid extra for extra toppings. Drink it as soon as it arrives! Amanda: Aww, thanks. Harper: Don’t mention it. We exchanged a few more casual, friendly texts before she claimed a customer had walked in and ended the conversation. Ten minutes later, the delivery guy dropped off the iced drink. I had just poured the entire cup down the toilet and flushed when the chat feed flared up again. [Disaster! I don’t think the side character just reincarnated. I think she reincarnated AFTER the female lead did!] [That’s the only explanation. How else would she know the female lead ordered the staff to use heavily contaminated tap water for that drink?!] [Then the female lead is totally screwed!] [Relax, she’ll notice something is off and execute a flawless counterattack.] [Am I the only one who kind of wants to see the toxic female lead crash and burn?] [Quietly agreeing. I want to see her fail too.] I stared at the empty plastic cup in my hand, my blood running cold. I had a notoriously weak stomach. Eating anything remotely unhygienic would guarantee me a night of agonizing cramps and diarrhea. She had gone to extreme, malicious lengths just to keep me trapped in the bathroom while she stole my life. I really had overestimated her humanity. Perhaps to verify if her little biological weapon had worked, Harper sent another text fishing for information. I played along, telling her my stomach was cramping up and blaming it on some greasy takeout I had for lunch. She swallowed the lie hook, line, and sinker, even putting on a show of ordering stomach medicine for me online. 5 That evening, I arrived at the plaza twenty minutes early. Instead of heading straight to the designated meeting spot, I tucked myself behind a massive illuminated billboard near the bus stop, keeping my eyes peeled. Ten minutes later, a gorgeous guy holding a bouquet of pink roses walked into view. He headed straight for the south side of the fountain, pacing with a mix of anxiety and excitement. Unless I was completely wrong, this was my online boyfriend. The man the chat feed called the “male lead”, Rowan. Five more minutes passed. Then, Harper made her entrance. She knew I was planning to wear a white dress, so she wore one too, opting for a stunning strapless design. I had to admit it. Harper had a body that turned heads. The moment she stepped into the plaza, she drew the eyes of everyone around her, including Rowan. But probably out of a guilty conscience, she was wearing a medical mask, making her look incredibly suspicious. Rowan spotted the white dress, gripped his flowers, and strode purposely toward her. I was too far away to catch their exact words. But based on Rowan’s relaxed body language, he was clearly thrilled with what he saw. And honestly, standing side by side, they looked like a magazine cover. After a brief exchange, Rowan reached out, gently took Harper’s hand, and started leading her toward the entrance of the luxury mall. I didn’t rush out to create a dramatic scene. Instead, I calmly pulled out my phone and dialed his number. He answered on the second ring, but his voice was completely detached and cold. “Who is this? What do you want?” I feigned total ignorance and let my voice go soft and sweet. “Handsome, it’s me! I’m here. Where are you?” Rowan stopped dead in his tracks. A heavy silence stretched for two seconds before he asked, his tone dripping with sudden vigilance, “Who exactly are you?” I poured on the innocent confusion. “It’s me! Didn’t we agree to meet by the fountain at eight? Don’t tell me you forgot!” Rowan whipped his head around, his eyes desperately scanning the area around the fountain. The chat feed exploded in real time: [Holy crap! No plot twist! I’m getting massive second-hand embarrassment!] [Give it a second! There’s totally going to be a twist!] [What if he finds out she’s the real online girlfriend, but still chooses the female lead anyway? That would be the ultimate slap in the face for the side character. Hahaha!] [Exactly! They’ve only ever talked online. They’ve never even met. Plus, with the side character’s mediocre IQ, there is zero chance she can handle a dominant billionaire heir.] [So true. Only a sultry temptress like the female lead can tame a wild alpha dog like him.] 6 Rowan stood frozen, looking over his shoulder. After about ten seconds of silence, I let out an exaggerated sigh of complaint. “It’s your girlfriend! Are you seriously telling me you forgot my voice?!” “Fuck!” Rowan cursed violently under his breath. He aggressively ripped his hand out of Harper’s grasp and started marching back toward the fountain. Harper panicked, instinctively reaching out to grab his arm to stop him. “Get off me!” Rowan shoved her hard. Caught off guard in her heels, Harper let out a sharp gasp and stumbled backward, falling hard onto the concrete. Rowan didn’t even spare her a second glance. He broke into a jog, keeping the phone pressed to his ear. “Babe, where exactly are you? Some crazy woman just tried to impersonate you. She almost had me fooled!” I gasped in fabricated shock. “Are you serious? That’s psychotic! Wait, I think I see you!” I stepped out from the shadows and stood directly under the streetlamp next to the fountain, waving my arm high in the air. “I see you too!” Rowan locked eyes with me and sprinted over. I walked forward to meet him. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Harper staring in my direction with wide, terrified eyes. She scrambled up from the ground and practically sprinted away, disappearing into the crowd. Rowan jogged to a halt right in front of me. His chest heaved as his eyes darted down to my white dress, and then fixed intensely on my lips. It took him a few seconds to confirm I was the girl from the photo. He let out a heavy breath, raking a hand through his hair in frustration. “Babe, I’m so sorry. Some woman wearing a dress just like yours came up to me. I was this close to believing it was you!” “Thank God you called when you did. I was about to get totally scammed.” I widened my eyes, playing the perfect innocent victim. “Who would do something like that? That’s so creepy!” Rowan turned and pointed furiously at the empty spot where Harper had fallen. “Some psycho wearing a mask and sunglasses! She was just standing right there, but she bolted.” I crossed my arms indignantly. “What an absolute freak.” Rowan nodded emphatically, absolute disgust written across his handsome features. “A total freak.” [I can’t believe there was no twist.] [The side character played that beautifully. The male lead is definitely disgusted by the female lead right now. It’s going to be so much harder for her to steal him away.] [Wait, two fake besties who both reincarnated? I kind of like this dynamic way more!] [Honestly, reading this from an outside perspective is really satisfying. I hate homewreckers.] [When men cheat, people excuse it. When women do it, they get crucified. The internalized misogyny is real!] [Are you mentally ill? Who said anything about excusing cheating men? I literally just said I hate homewreckers of any gender!] The chat feed devolved into a messy argument. I found the whole thing ridiculous. Some of these invisible watchers seemed downright addicted to stories glorifying infidelity. Probably reflected their own twisted morals in real life.

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On New Year’s Eve, burning with a hundred-and-four-degree fever, I coughed up blood and begged my mother to take me to the hospital. She still produced that spinning wheel. “The old rule: if it lands on red, we go! If it lands on black, shut up!” I was the true daughter, swapped at birth. The night I came home, my mother said that from then on, all family matters would be decided by this red and black spinning wheel. It was the fairest way, she claimed. I nodded, full of hope. But for three whole years, thousands of spins, my sister always landed on red, and I, always on black. Not only did all the beautiful jewelry and the sunny room go to her, but even when I was sick in bed, wanting a sip of water, I had to wait for her cartoon to finish. I gripped the edge of the wheel, my fingers trembling with fever. This time, I wanted to live. In the last split second, as the pointer was about to slide to black, I used all my strength to press my index finger against the back. For the first time, it stopped on the red section. “I landed on…” “Daisy!” My eldest brother seized my wrist. “Even if your luck is bad, you can’t cheat!” My second brother shoved me to the ground: “You came back with your bloodline, only to learn such despicable tricks?” My third brother broke my finger: “Being biological, you should follow the rules even more.” They left merrily. I lay on the cold floor, watching fireworks explode outside the window. So red was truly beautiful. I’m sorry. In my next life… I will definitely try hard to land on red. … I could still hear them as they prepared to leave. “Pearl, is your scarf on? It’s cold outside.” My mother’s voice was impossibly gentle. “The private dining room for New Year’s Eve dinner is all set up, with pink balloons everywhere. You’ll love it, I’m sure.” “Really? Mom knows me best!” My second brother chuckled, joining in: “Tonight, Dad even specially ordered a New Year’s Eve cake with your favorite ballerina sugar figurine on top.” My third brother’s voice was full of indulgence: “Little princess, the head chef at the French restaurant heard you were coming and specially prepared your favorite caramel crème brûlée tart, a three-tiered one.” “That’s great! What about my New Year’s gift?” Pearl’s voice was sickly sweet. “It’s all in the car.” My eldest brother said with a smile, “Tonight is a night of reunion. Whatever our Pearl wants, she gets.” Footsteps moved towards the door, the rustle of coats filling the air. Not a single person looked back towards the living room. Not a single person remembered that someone was still lying on the floor. Every time the wheel landed on black, my mother remained perfectly calm. “The probabilities are fifty-fifty. If your luck is bad, who can you blame?” “People with bad luck don’t deserve good things.” She had said these words countless times. But what was luck? I remembered when I first came home three years ago, my mother took out that red and black spinning wheel. “Daisy, you’re my biological child, Mommy loves you.” She knelt down to look me in the eye. “But Pearl has also been with us for ten years. For absolute fairness, from now on, all family matters will be decided by the spinning wheel, okay?” A one-in-two chance. I nodded vigorously, my eyes full of light. The first time. In late autumn, the cuff of my only sweater had a hole. As the cold wind seeped in, I quietly said, “Mom, can I have five dollars to buy some yarn? I’ll mend it myself.” Mom was trying on a cashmere coat for Pearl and didn’t even turn her head: “Five dollars isn’t money? Let the wheel decide.” The pointer stopped on black. My second brother scoffed: “Such a pauper. Pearl’s coat is enough to buy you a cartful of yarn.” Later, I tied a piece of discarded red ribbon around the hole and was laughed at in school for a whole week. The second time. I clutched my test paper, my palms sweating. “Mom, I got first place.” The dinner table fell silent for a moment. Dad grunted an “hmm,” and continued to serve Pearl shrimp. “Alright, what do you want this time?” Mom wiped her mouth. “A ten-dollar workbook…” “Old rules.” My third brother put an arm around Pearl, smiling grandly: “Hear that? Our true scholar is right here. Your first place was probably just a blind squirrel finding a nut.” The pointer stopped on black again. That test paper was tucked into the bottom of my bookshelf, never to be taken out again. … The 825th time, when the news of Grandma Willow’s passing came, I stood on the stairs, my blood running cold. “Mom, I want to go back and say goodbye to Grandma…” “Enough!” She cut me off. “The dead cannot return to life. What’s the point of going back? It’s unlucky!” My third brother rushed in, phone in hand, his face beaming with excitement: “Mom! Pearl won first prize in the piano competition!” Mom’s impatience instantly turned to ecstasy: “Really? What reward do you want, sweetie?” Dad also came out of the study: “We should definitely celebrate.” My second brother had, at some point, brought over the spinning wheel. “Spin it.” He placed it on the coffee table. “If it lands on red, you can go.” I looked at the distinct red and black wheel for a long time. My fingertip hovered above the pointer, trembling, but ultimately didn’t descend. That night, I kowtowed three times towards the direction of the countryside, standing before the spinning wheel until midnight. Because I knew the outcome. It would definitely be black. Always black. The door closed. The joyous sounds of reunion were completely cut off. Inside, the house was deadly silent, save for my gradually weakening breaths and the festive crackle of firecrackers from other homes outside the window. The moment the pain vanished, I floated up. Looking down, a small body was curled on the floor. Faded, worn pajamas, the right index finger bent at a strange angle, and on the pale face, un-dried tear streaks. That was me. Thirteen-year-old Daisy, no longer breathing. It turned out some people were born to be held in the family’s palms, with even the New Year’s Eve cake figurines prepared to their liking. Some people were born only to lie on a cold floor, their deaths silent and unnoticed. I don’t know how long it was, The door was pushed open again. Mother and daughter walked in, wearing identical cashmere coats. Pearl wore a dazzling diamond necklace around her neck; it was the welcome gift my grandmother had given me when I first came home. Because the spinning wheel landed on black, Mom said, “Such precious jewelry isn’t fitting for you,” so it ended up around Pearl’s neck. Pearl lifted her skirt and knelt, her voice innocent: “The floor is so dirty… why is Sister still lying here?” My eldest brother frowned: “Country folk are just like that. When they’re tired, they lie down anywhere, regardless of cleanliness.” My third brother lazily chimed in: “That’s why, even if Pearl isn’t biological, she has an inherent grace. While some people, well, genes can’t change that inherent peasant air.” Pearl curiously touched my face, but quickly recoiled. She gasped: “Mom! Sister’s face… it’s colder than ice!” Mom’s movement of taking off her coat froze. For some inexplicable reason. I felt a faint sense of anticipation. I wondered what their reaction would be when they discovered I was dead. Mom walked over. She first saw my twisted finger, her expression momentarily taken aback: “Her finger… why is it bent like that?” My third brother leaned against the entryway, saying casually: “I broke it.” Mom glared at him, with a hint of anger: “You really don’t know your own strength. She’s still your sister, after all!” I floated in the air, staring blankly at her. A warmth spread through my heart. I knew it, Mom still loved me. But it didn’t matter anymore, I couldn’t feel pain. My third brother raised his chin: “Mom, you set the rules yourself. Cheating deserves punishment. Pearl remembers it and always follows it obediently. Is it really fair to her if you indulge Daisy?” Mom’s lips moved, then she turned to look at Pearl. The young girl bit her lip, her eyes slightly red, like a startled bunny. In that instant, Mom’s voice softened: “Alright, just remember not to do it in front of Pearl next time. She’s easily frightened.” That flicker of emotion, sparked by me, was like a pebble thrown into a deep pond, creating only a trivial ripple. Mom reached out, but didn’t check my breath. Instead, she poked my shoulder with disgust: “Daisy, get up.” “Playing dead, are we?” She kicked my shoulder with the tip of her high heel. “To avoid the family dinner, to make us feel guilty, you’re full of tricks! You’ll stoop to any despicable means.” My second brother picked up the glass cup from the coffee table, his wrist flicking. Scalding water splashed half my face. “Can you wake up now? Can you stop always using such cheap tricks to get attention?” Water droplets rolled down my temples into my collar, yet my eyelashes didn’t even flicker. Pearl retreated a small step, timidly saying: “Mom, I feel like, Sister seems… really unwell.” To soothe Pearl’s wounded spirit. My second brother patted her back and tucked an exquisite gift box into her arms. “Good Pearl, big brother knows you have a kind heart, but some people are just born to play the victim and aren’t worthy of sympathy at all.” Mom rubbed Pearl’s head: “The more you indulge her, the worse she’ll get next time. Today she’s playing dead, tomorrow she’ll hang herself. She just wants to force us to apologize by doing this.” My third brother scoffed along: “This afternoon she was making such a fuss about going to the hospital, now she’s just lying here like a corpse. What else can she do besides upsetting the family and ruining the atmosphere?” Perhaps wanting to end this farce quickly. Mom crouched down and fiercely pinched my philtrum. Even when my lips turned white from her grip, I remained motionless. She completely lost her patience. Raising her hand, she slapped me across the face. “If I had known you were such a stubborn and malicious person, I never should have softened and brought you back!” Just then, Pearl’s sweet voice came from upstairs: “Mommy, look, isn’t the new dress second brother bought me pretty?” That voice was like magic. The anger on Mom’s face instantly melted away like snow. “Sweetheart, Mommy’s coming.” After a few steps, she suddenly turned back and dragged me up from the floor. “Daisy, listen carefully! In this family, Pearl came first, then you. Bloodline means nothing! Don’t think that just because you’re biological, you can do whatever you want.” My head fell back limply, my eyes half-open, pupils dilated and lifeless, staring at the ceiling. She stared into my unfocused eyes, as if wanting to see submission and fear there. But I was already dead; I couldn’t give any reaction. This seemed to infuriate Mom. She grabbed my collar, warning me fiercely: “Know your place! If you dare to have crooked thoughts and compete with Pearl again… you can go back to your village!” She let go. My head, losing its support, hit the floor with a “thud.” She didn’t look back, clip-clopping upstairs in her high heels. My second brother kicked me: “On New Year’s, who are you putting on this deathly display for? That’s enough.” My third brother, smiling, pulled out his phone and pressed the shutter button. “A souvenir. Next time you pretend, I’ll let everyone see what kind of person the real daughter of the Sterling family is in private.” Finally, it was my eldest brother. He stood there watching me for a long time, so long that I thought he would discover something. Finally, he sighed. Reluctantly, he dragged me back to my room and threw me onto the bed. Before leaving, he stood at the doorway and said, as if offering charity: “Daisy, if your finger hurts too much to bear, come find me, but don’t alarm Pearl. I can send you to the hospital without going through the spinning wheel. However, the medical expenses will be deducted from your next month’s allowance. You caused this trouble yourself, so you bear the consequences, understand?” I answered over and over: “Brother, thank you, but I’m already dead now. I don’t need to go to the hospital…” But he would never hear it. The door closed. Outside the window, fireworks bloomed, firecrackers popped, full of festive cheer. Next door, the family was joyous, laughing heartily, so lively. Only I, floating alone in the air, was dead and no one knew. I’m sorry. In my heart, I whispered to the me who, three years ago, first walked into this house, looked up at the crystal chandelier, and thought I had finally found a home. See? Pearl is the best, obedient daughter. And I, even being biological. In their hearts, I was just a stranger with the title of “true daughter.” The next morning, Dad walked through the door, looking travel-worn. He spent years developing overseas business, only returning for holidays. In his hands, he carried two gift boxes, one large and one small. “Daddy!” Pearl, like a cheerful butterfly, flew into his arms. “What good things did you bring me again?” Dad smiled, ruffled her hair, and scanned the living room: “Where’s Daisy? How come she didn’t come out to get my slippers this time?” Mom, who was brewing tea, paused: “On New Year’s, she insists on competing with Pearl. I said a few words to her yesterday, and now she’s probably sulking in her room.” Dad frowned, but didn’t ask further. He pointed to the two gift boxes: “Brought New Year’s gifts for the children. The big one is Bulgari’s new limited edition jewelry set, which took a lot of connections to get. The small one… is a souvenir keychain I bought casually at the airport.” Million-dollar jewelry, and a keychain worth at most five dollars. The disparity was comically vast. “Daddy! This one must be for me, right?” Pearl pounced on the opulent large gift box. Dad gently chided: “Pearl, don’t be silly. You know, our family always emphasizes fairness.” Then, he solemnly took out the spinning wheel and placed it on the coffee table: “Still the old rule. Spin to red, take the large one. Spin to black, take the small one.” Mom shouted towards my room: “Doesn’t someone always complain we’re biased? If you don’t come spin the wheel, then I’m letting your sister spin it, okay? Don’t you dare cry later and say the whole family ganged up to bully you!” “I’ll spin it, I’ll spin it! The result is always the same anyway.” Pearl happily ran over. She flicked the pointer, and it began to spin. Dad watched with a smile, Mom with doting eyes, and my brothers with an air of certainty. Only I, floating in the air, teared up uncontrollably—I really was just as Mom said, naughty and stubborn, still foolishly dreaming of landing on red even after death. Unwilling, I leaned over the spinning wheel, trying to flick it, blowing with all my might. Perhaps heaven also pitied me, the pointer slowed down, trembling as it approached black… Then, it stopped. The living room was silent for a moment. I froze, then was overcome with wild joy, jumping up excitedly—Oh my god! Red was finally mine! But I was already dead, and such precious jewelry would be a waste to be buried with me. It was better for Pearl to wear it. I thought to myself. It seemed I really just had bad luck. Had I misunderstood them? They actually hadn’t been biased all this time. Mom suddenly grabbed Pearl’s wrist and examined it, then said in surprise: “No wonder. My sweet Pearl, where’s the magnet on your bracelet? It’s gone?” I felt like I had been struck by lightning. A magnet? So, Pearl’s bracelet… had a magnet hidden inside? Three whole years, thousands of blacks. I had knelt countless times, praying, secretly practicing in the dead of night, thinking it was my lowly fate, that I was despised by the gods, that I didn’t deserve a shred of special favor… “…I don’t know.” Pearl pouted, looking aggrieved. “Daddy, Sister isn’t here anyway. Can… can this time not count?” Dad’s face showed some difficulty. Just then, my brothers exchanged glances. My eldest brother immediately understood, walked over, and gave a gentle flick, and the pointer landed steadily in the red section. “See, it’s clearly red.” My eldest brother’s tone was flat. “Oh yeah!” Pearl cheered. “Thank you, Daddy! Thank you, big brother!” Dad nodded with a smile: “It seems the gods still favor our Pearl.” Mom also smiled: “Yes, Pearl always has good fortune.” The family was harmonious, as if that little “accident” had never happened. A profound sense of desolation and absurdity swallowed me. So in this family. Not only were the rules flexible, but even luck could be manual. After dinner, my third brother lost a game, and his punishment was to bring me food. He stood up, his face full of disgust, “I’m not going! It’s bad luck.” Pearl pouted playfully: “A bet is a bet, brother~” My second brother immediately frowned: “Go quickly and come back quickly. Would you really upset Pearl for that annoying person?” My third brother stood up irritably: “Tsk… This is so annoying.” Two minutes later, he threw a bowl of leftovers onto my bedside table: “Hey, stop pretending! That’s enough.” I lay motionless on the bed. He kicked the edge of the bed: “Daisy, I’m talking to you, are you deaf?” “Fine, you’ve got guts. Don’t eat, then. Starve to death.” He angrily poured the food into the trash can. “Brother! I’m not pretending! I’m really dead! Look at my face, look at my hand!” I floated in front of my third brother, waving my hands frantically, trying to catch his attention. My third brother seemed to sense something, his footsteps faltering. His gaze fell on my pale face and purplish lips. In that instant, my heart leaped into my throat. Was he going to discover it? Was he finally… going to see me? The next second, he scoffed: “Heh, your acting is damn good. You’re even so committed to playing dead.” He turned and left, the door closing crisply. …

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In the tenth year of my AA-marriage into a wealthy family, before I could fully wake up from the illusion of love, Ryan’s payment QR code was shoved right in my face. “The suite for tonight, you’re splitting the bill with me.” I barely had time to get dressed, fumbling for my phone. On the screen, my bank account balance showed a paltry thirty dollars. I awkwardly asked, “My paycheck doesn’t come until tomorrow. Could… could I pay you then?” Ryan just smiled at me, a hint of something unreadable, perhaps mockery, in his gaze: “That million dollars you used to betray me ten years ago, is it all spent? If you don’t want to split the bill… then just pretend you’re a street girl. We’ll go again, and I won’t charge you.” My eyelashes fluttered down. I said nothing more, just silently transferred the money. Only then did he get up to shower. What exactly happened ten years ago was a complete blank in my memory. When I woke up in the hospital, everyone told me that after Ryan and I eloped, I couldn’t stand the hardship. I’d gone to his mother, demanded a million dollars, and promised to leave him. A few blurry fragments flashed through my mind, and my head throbbed. Just then, Ryan’s phone chimed a few times. As if possessed, I picked up the phone and unlocked it. On the screen were a few suggestive photos from his secretary. “Mr. Howard, when are you divorcing that old hag?” My hands trembled as I morbidly scrolled through all their chat history, from their explicit flirtations to discussing rendezvous points. My tears dried and re-wet on my cheeks. Finally, I typed a reply: “Tomorrow.” 1. At two in the morning, I tiptoed out of bed. It was time to clean the restrooms at the Howard Group building. Ten years ago, I’d agreed to an AA-marriage with Ryan, but the expenses of high society were far more exorbitant than I’d imagined. Even if I ate nothing but plain pasta, just living in that villa meant monthly maintenance fees that were a colossal sum to me. And Ryan’s mother had “kindly” offered me a job: a restroom cleaner at the Howard Group. Even though I knew it was an insult, I accepted. Because I didn’t know where else I could find a fifty-thousand-dollar-a-month job to maintain my chance of staying by Ryan’s side. Luckily, starting tomorrow, I wouldn’t need to. Today’s cleaning solution was particularly acrid, and my eyes stung repeatedly. It wasn’t until nine in the morning that I finished cleaning all the restrooms in the entire building. This was Ryan’s mother’s requirement. She’d looked at my clean, unblemished hands with a smile then, saying softly, “Ophelia, before everyone starts work, all the restrooms in the building need to be sparkling clean. You can manage that, can’t you?” I’d gritted my teeth and agreed, even though my hands were once meant for painting. Exhausted, I huddled in the last utility closet in the restroom for a break. “Bang bang bang!” A loud knocking startled my heart. I opened the door, and there stood Ryan’s secretary, Laura. She was dressed impeccably in a professional suit, looking down at me. “Oh, Mrs. Howard, so you’re hiding out here, are you? The ladies’ room in the second stall is clogged. Could you please clear it?” Her words were polite, but her sarcastic gaze pierced straight through my faded cleaner’s uniform. My fists clenched tightly, my nails digging deep into my palms, though I barely felt it. Finally, I put on my mask and numbly nodded. Seeing me take out a long pair of tweezers, Laura raised a hand to stop me. “Mrs. Howard, the company’s toilets are all new. Each one is a smart toilet worth a hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Using tools like that might damage it…” I frowned, “Then what do you want me to do?” “You figure something out. Just no tools…” The implication couldn’t have been clearer. I knew she wouldn’t give up unless I did as she wished. Thinking my paycheck hadn’t arrived yet, I didn’t want any more trouble. I mechanically knelt down. My stomach churned, whether from the smell or the emotion, sour bile rising in my throat. Tears silently fell, hidden by my mask. Under her watchful, amused gaze, I began to work. As the foreign object was pulled from the toilet, I heard a few clicks of a camera behind me. “Mrs. Howard, I’ve sent your hard-working picture to the company group chat, okay? Your spirit of not fearing hardship is truly inspiring!” Laura said, smiling at me. I paid no mind to her words, staring blankly at the purple sheer thong in my hand. It was the one she’d worn in the photos she’d sent last night. Laura’s delicate brow furrowed, feigning embarrassment: “Oh, how did this end up here? Could it be with Mr. Howard that day…” She said, “I’m so embarrassed! I was going to Mr. Howard’s office to report, and he wanted to see me in it!” “Mrs. Howard, could you do me a favor and run a quick errand? There’s a self-service store a few blocks away. Could you pick one up for me?” She pulled a few thousand dollars from her pocket and, without asking, shoved it into my hand. As I walked from the restroom to the main entrance of the building, people I passed avoided me as if I carried a plague. Those who walked by me covered their noses and chuckled lightly. I heard someone say, “These gold-diggers are really working for it!” As I carried the item back towards the Howard Group, I clutched my numb heart, thinking: What have I gained? Ten years of marriage, only zero in savings, and a lover who didn’t love me. With a notification of a payment received, I felt all the strength drain from my body. The spirit and feelings that ten years hadn’t managed to extinguish now vanished into thin air. I took the thong and the two documents I had prepared, walking towards Ryan’s office. One was a resignation letter, the other a divorce agreement. 2. Before pushing open the door to Ryan’s office, I glanced at his secretary’s desk outside. It was empty. Seeing me enter, Ryan looked up, his face flushed with an ambiguous color. “What are you doing in here?” His voice was hoarse, his tone carrying an underlying restraint. Ten years ago, he’d used that same tone, tenderly and lingeringly, to call me: “Lily.” “Ophelia?” he called me. The coldness in his voice snapped me back to reality. I placed the items in my hand on his desk. “Your secretary asked me to buy these panties. Said you needed them urgently.” Ryan scoffed, raising an eyebrow: “You really can tolerate a lot to be Mrs. Howard, can’t you?” “This is my resignation letter…” Ryan looked at me with surprise, his cold remarks still unsaid. Then he heard me say calmly, “The other one is our divorce agreement.” Ryan’s eyes instantly cleared, filled with a sharp, scrutinizing coldness. His hand gripped the leather armrest of his chair tightly. He took several deep breaths before speaking, his face looking less than pleased. “Ophelia, playing hard to get won’t work on me.” If I didn’t know who was currently beneath his wide office desk, I truly might have mistaken his words as an attempt to keep me. “Mr. Howard, I’m tired.” “Tired?” Ryan laughed, his handsome features utterly devoid of emotion. “Ophelia, for ten years you couldn’t bear to leave the Howard family’s gilded cage. What makes you willing to leave today? Or have you found another sugar daddy with your looks?” “Don’t think I’ll go soft.” His words were like sharp blades, stabbing into my heart again and again. He picked up my divorce agreement with just two fingers, glanced at it dismissively, then flicked it into the air. The paper drifted lightly to the floor, like my dignity and my heart. His thin lips opened and closed, uttering cruel and vicious words. “I’m not agreeing to a divorce, Ophelia. I’m not done with you yet.” “Ow!” No sooner had the words left his lips than Ryan winced in pain. Perhaps his little mistress, upset that he wouldn’t divorce, was causing a scene under his desk. I let out a self-mocking laugh in my heart. After the brief amusement, ten years of pent-up grievances surged to the surface. I struggled to speak calmly, to maintain my last shred of dignity, but what came out was a trembling whisper, laced with tears: “Ryan, please, let me go…” 3. Ryan’s face changed. He slumped backward, utterly drained, hitting the backrest of his chair with a thud. He spoke, his voice carrying a suppressed anger: “Is being with me that unbearable?” “Please, let me go? I don’t want anything anymore…” The title of Mrs. Howard, I don’t want it. Ryan himself, along with our relationship, I don’t want it anymore. Even why I left him with a million dollars in the first place, I no longer care to investigate. That memory, that relationship, after I discovered his infidelity, it all became irrelevant. Ryan’s gaze dimmed, like a murky pool of black water. “Why? It’s always been you coming and going as you please. Did you ever consider my feelings for a single moment?” Every word sounded squeezed from between his back teeth; he clearly hated me. “My family disagreed, yet I eloped with you. The Howard Group blacklisted me, I couldn’t find work. I was willing to work construction, just so you could paint freely in your studio, but what did you do?” Ryan laughed, his eyes reddening without warning. “You played me like a dog. One day you swore eternal love, the next you went to my mother for a million dollars to go to the Northside.” “In your heart… I was only worth a million.” The Northside… A dark, damp basement, a sticky sensation flashed in my mind. I suppressed the uncomfortable feeling and forced a bitter smile: “I’ve already repaid you for ten years, Mr. Howard, isn’t that enough?” Ryan was about to say something else when someone pushed open the door and walked in. He quickly composed himself. The newcomer was Mr. Peterson, a key business partner of the Howard Group. “Mr. Howard, I saw the secretary wasn’t outside, so I came straight in.” Ryan grunted, biting his index finger slightly. Arguing with me had already drained a lot of his energy; he was now on the verge of exploding. Mr. Peterson, mistaking me for a cleaning lady, pulled out a contract from his bag. “Mr. Howard, we were very pleased with my last proposal. We’re here today to sign the contract.” He stepped forward with the contract, but Ryan raised a hand and growled, “Stop.” Mr. Peterson paused, startled, frowning slightly with displeasure. Ryan quickly amended, “I think the proposal could be even more perfect. Please wait while I gather everyone for a meeting.” Mr. Peterson chuckled, “Mr. Howard is certainly meticulous. Why don’t I call everyone to your office for a meeting now?” Saying this, Mr. Peterson, ignoring Ryan’s darkening face, called people to the meeting in the work group chat. Employees are always swift. Even though Ryan was on the top floor of the building, everyone arrived within a minute. They all looked expectantly at Ryan, wanting to know what still needed to be revised. Ryan was tense, suppressing his primal urges, and began discussing the proposal with everyone in a rigid, formal manner. I took out a rag, pretending to clean, moving from the office desk to the display cabinet behind it. Under the desk, I met Laura’s eyes. She glared at me venomously. I pulled out the purple thong I’d retrieved from the toilet that morning and, without hesitation, tossed it onto her. The damp, soiled fabric touched Laura, and she let out a disgusted gasp, scrambling out from under the desk. Just like that, dishevelled, she stood face-to-face with everyone.

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