Category: English

When the wealthiest man in the city came to the orphanage to find his biological daughter, he was looking for a specific birthmark on the back of the neck. I calmly pulled my collar high, hiding mine, and timidly pointed at the prettiest girl in the room. “Sir, are you looking for a birthmark shaped like a plum blossom? Then you’re probably looking for her.” She was taken home. For the first time in two lifetimes, I smiled a genuine smile. “Sister, without me to take the fall, let’s see if you can survive.” 1 I was reborn on the exact day my billionaire biological father came to the orphanage to claim his child. Mia, the girl I had grown up with, was practically vibrating with excitement. She kept nagging me to check the birthmark on the back of her neck. “It’s definitely there, right? I’m the only one with a plum blossom birthmark. “I can’t believe I’m the daughter of a billionaire! “Listen, if you lick my shoes right now and beg, maybe I’ll take you with me. You could be my maid.” Mia looked down at me, her arrogance and triumph impossible to hide. I stood there, acting meek and terrified, not daring to speak. But deep down, a dark, satisfying thrill was spreading through my chest. My silence seemed to agitate Mia even more. “Tch, useless. Even when I hand you an opportunity, you’re too stupid to take it.” I timed it perfectly, opening my mouth with a weak, pleading tone. “Mia, please don’t forget me when you’re rich. “You’re going to be a billionaire’s daughter now. If anything bad ever happens, could you… could you help me out?” Before I could even finish, Mia scoffed and turned away to pack her things. Before leaving the room, she shot me a final, disdainful glare. “I’m the daughter of a billionaire. You think you have the right to associate with me?” The moment she left, I finally laughed out loud. She had bullied me constantly, but that wasn’t unforgivable. Resources at the orphanage were scarce; you had to fight to survive. But what she absolutely shouldn’t have done—what she deserved to die for—was offering me up as a sacrificial lamb in our past life. Yes, I had lived this life before. In my past life, the billionaire arrived at the exact same time. Both Mia and I had the plum blossom birthmark. That was when I learned the truth: we were actually fraternal twins. We just didn’t look very much alike. When we went back to the estate, the life of a billionaire heiress wasn’t the fairy tale we imagined. The only reason he bothered to find us was because his beloved fake daughter needed a healthy kidney. To save herself, Mia faked an illness, forcing them to harvest my kidney instead for the fake daughter. But she didn’t stop there. She teamed up with the fake daughter to sell me to human traffickers deep in the Appalachian mountains. When I was finally killed, I died with my eyes wide open, utterly unresigned. God finally opened His eyes and gave me a chance to do it all over again. I looked at the billionaire kneeling in front of me, asking his questions. I timidly pointed toward Mia, who was eagerly walking out of her room. “Sir, are you looking for a birthmark shaped like a plum blossom? Then you’re probably looking for her.” Mia’s recognition was a success. She smiled, and so did I. Sister, without me to take the fall for you, let’s see if you can survive. 2 Mia clutched the hem of her dress. She didn’t even need to force the tears; they flowed naturally. The family of three held each other tightly, weeping uncontrollably. “My sweet girl, you’ve suffered so much.” The billionaire was so overjoyed at finding his beloved daughter that he immediately wrote a $100,000 check to the orphanage. The news of Mia returning to high society became legendary among the orphans. For a while, checking for birthmarks became a massive trend. “Hey, look! I have an oval birthmark right here. “Maybe one day my dad will fly a helicopter in and take me home to a life of luxury.” I just smiled. Back then, I used to be just as naive. I used to cross off the days on the calendar, waiting for my happy ending. Until two months later, when shocking news broke from the billionaire’s estate. Mia had fallen gravely ill and died en route to receiving specialized medical treatment abroad. The billionaire’s wife was supposedly so overcome with grief that she was hospitalized. A week after the news broke, I deliberately wore a spaghetti-strap tank top and loitered around the main hall where everyone gathered. “Man, it’s such a shame about Mia. She was always so healthy when she lived here.” I was telling the truth. Mia had been as healthy as an ox. “Wait, Chloe? Stay still.” The orphanage director grabbed my arm, her eyes widening. “Why do you have a plum blossom birthmark on the back of your neck too?! “Let me think… let me think. “You and Mia were found together in the same basket. Could you be…?! Oh my god, I need to call them right now!” I looked at the director with wide, clueless eyes, but a flicker of a smile danced in my heart. Even if it was just for the chance of another $100,000 donation, there was no way she would let this opportunity slip by. 3 The truth was confirmed. Everyone now knew Mia and I were twins. The billionaire family came to pick me up. “My sweet daughter, it’s all our fault we didn’t recognize you last time.” I was flanked by my billionaire parents. The woman practically soaked my shirt with her tears. I tentatively called her “Mom.” Then, I asked softly, “Mia was only home for two months. What exactly did she die from? “She used to be… so healthy.” My new mom glanced at me, then lowered her head to wipe her tears. “It was a sudden illness. We didn’t expect it either.” Oh. A sudden illness. Did you mean a sudden surgery to harvest her kidney for your fake daughter? If my guess was right, there must have been a complication during the surgery, leading to Mia’s death. Yes. The fake daughter, Audrey, had been diagnosed with kidney failure. A blood test revealed she wasn’t biologically related to the family. But the couple couldn’t bear to lose the daughter they had raised. Finding a matching kidney on the donor list was nearly impossible. So, they frantically launched a search for their biological child—solely to save Audrey. “We feel so guilty about what happened to your sister. From now on, just stay home. We will make it up to you.” I was pulled into her embrace, and she patted my back gently. “Mhm. Mia passed away from an illness. It has nothing to do with you.” The moment I said that, my mom’s body stiffened for a microsecond. I smiled coldly to myself. In my past life, Mia and I were brought back together. The couple originally wanted Mia’s kidney. But Mia refused, and instead schemed to push me onto the operating table. Things were working out perfectly now. Mia was dead, which meant one-third of my revenge from my past life was already complete. “Dad, Mom, where’s my other sister? “Did she go back to find her biological parents?” They exchanged a look, seemingly unsure of how to answer. I shrugged, looking slightly disappointed. “That’s a shame. I guess I’m just used to the noise and company at the orphanage. It would have been nice if she were here, so I’d have a sister to spend time with.” “Chloe, do you really mean that?” Her voice pitched up slightly. “We were worried you wouldn’t accept her, since you’re our real flesh and blood.” I smiled. I knew them too well. If I didn’t accept Audrey, I would end up exactly like Mia. In this life, rather than waiting passively, I decided to take the initiative. By playing the role of the understanding, generous daughter, I could keep the fake heiress right under my nose. 4 The fake heiress returned that afternoon. She walked in wearing designer heels, draped in luxury brands from head to toe. But her complexion was noticeably pale. “Audrey, come meet your sister.” I politely called her “Sister,” acting timid as I hid slightly behind my parents. Audrey smiled, but a chilling glint flashed in her eyes. “Welcome home, Chloe.” She casually pulled a platinum debit card from her designer bag. “There’s $50,000 on this. Consider it a welcoming gift from your big sister.” I looked at my mom, schooling my features into a mask of pure shock. Seeing my reaction, Audrey’s smile widened. “It’s just one month of my allowance. Take it.” Audrey, wearing her heels, was slightly taller than me. Her eyes were full of triumph and disdain. I carefully took the card, my eyes turning red. “Dad, Mom, I don’t dare spend this. “I’ve never seen this much money in my entire life.” Guilt already weighed heavily on them. Hearing my words, they fell silent. “Are you serious?” Audrey exaggeratedly covered her mouth. “Are there really people who can’t even scrape together $50,000?” Her words made me tear up. I hunched my shoulders and shrank back. The next second, my dad shot Audrey a sharp look of displeasure. “Audrey, your sister grew up in an orphanage. Of course she hasn’t had the privileges you have. “Chloe, come here. Dad will give you this one.” An exclusive, limitless black card was pressed into my hand. Audrey gripped her designer bag so tightly it deformed. Heh. Can’t even handle this? Don’t worry, we’re just getting started. 5 I was placed in the bedroom right next to my parents. To show how much they valued me, they personally took me out to pick the furniture and decor. “Mom! I want to go too!” Audrey pouted and whined. My mom looked at me, then at Audrey, and finally shook her head. “Audrey, if you like something, just order it online. “Have them deliver it straight to the house.” Before the door closed, I saw Audrey’s beautiful face twist into something hideous. But she didn’t hear my mom sigh after we left the room. “Audrey’s health is still fragile. Going out shopping with us would be too exhausting for her.” “You’re right,” my dad agreed. “That girl never knows how to take care of herself.” I listened silently, not saying a word. I knew from my past life that they loved Audrey more than anything. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have turned a blind eye to how she bullied me back then. My parents spent money without blinking, but by the time we got home, I was exhausted. I was just about to drink a glass of milk and go to sleep when Audrey cornered me in the kitchen. “Sister?” I smiled at her, neither subservient nor arrogant. Audrey looked at me, then at the glass of milk in my hand, and scoffed. “Did you have the habit of drinking milk at the orphanage too? “Things sure are different now that you’re in a mansion. You think you’re royalty. “Do you even know how much that carton of milk costs? It’s probably worth half your miserable life.” Instead of getting angry, I laughed. So, in my past life, when she sold me to traffickers deep in the mountains, she only asked for $500? Looking at it that way, I guess I really wasn’t worthy of this milk. But wait. This is my house. I took a huge gulp and dramatically savored the taste. “It really is delicious. So rich and sweet. “I bet you drink this all the time, right? But I wonder… if you hadn’t been switched at birth, would you even be able to afford a single drop of this?” Audrey’s face contorted with rage. “You little bitch! I knew your whole act in front of Mom and Dad was fake! An orphanage rat could never turn into anything good!” I dropped the smile. “You’re right. The orphanage didn’t raise anything good. “So, you better watch your back from now on.” Everything she stole from me in my past life, I was going to take back. 6 After a week at the estate, I told them I wanted to go to school. It was my senior year, I needed to prepare for my SATs, and I had much bigger plans to execute. My dad arranged for me to attend an elite private academy. The day before school started, he gave me a very serious talk. “Chloe, the kids there come from very wealthy, powerful families. Even though I’m a billionaire, you still need to get along with your classmates, understand? “You might not realize it yet, but all our families are connected through business.” I gave him a look of naive understanding. “I know, Dad.” When I got to school, I headed straight for the classroom I remembered. Even my assigned seat was exactly the same as in my past life. The only difference was that the ringleader who bullied me wasn’t here yet. Audrey had wanted to come to school with me, but my parents refused. I guessed her body still hadn’t fully recovered from the transplant, and they couldn’t bear to let her exert herself. As soon as the bell rang, a girl crossed her arms and sauntered over to my desk. “Well, well, if it isn’t Audrey’s new sister. “Life at the orphanage must have been tough, huh? How’s the mansion treating you? This kind of luxury isn’t for everyone. Just look at your short-lived sister…” Before she could finish, I tapped the shoulder of the boy sitting in front of me. “Mason, right? She’s had a massive crush on you forever. She’s the one who’s been leaving breakfast on your desk every morning.” The girl speaking was Harper. She had been secretly obsessed with the guy sitting in front of me for a long time. In my past life, she was Audrey’s biggest lackey. Audrey had learned all of Harper’s secrets and used them to mock her at home. Harper’s words died in her throat. Her face flushed a violent crimson. The boy frowned, glancing up and down at Harper with clear disdain. “Sorry, but I have absolutely no feelings for you.” Harper burst into tears and ran out of the classroom, completely forgetting she was supposed to be bullying me. 7 Everyone in the class exchanged bewildered looks, enjoying the drama. “Hey, how did you know about that?” I opened my mouth, pretending to hesitate. “M-my sister told me… at home…” A wave of shock rippled through the classroom. I followed Harper out into the hallway. She was leaning against the railing, sobbing uncontrollably. “Harper, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said that in front of everyone.” “Get away from me! You already said it, stop acting like you care!” I took a half-step back, looking appropriately scolded. “It’s just that I always heard her talking about all the sweet things you did for him, but he was completely oblivious. I got anxious and just blurted it out.” Harper kept cursing at me. But mid-rant, she suddenly froze. “The things I did? What things did I do? How do you know?” “Audrey talks about it all the time at the dinner table.” Harper’s jaw slowly clenched tight. She even grabbed my wrist. “Tell me exactly what she said! Every single word! What else did she say?! Tell me everything, and I’ll forgive you for what happened today!” I blinked. Well, Harper practically forced me to say it. When I finished recounting everything Audrey had “said,” Harper was shaking with rage. “She really said that? She said I was a pathetic loser? She said I had no self-respect?!” I pressed my lips together. I couldn’t possibly repeat those words a second time. “Harper, please don’t tell anyone I told you. If my parents find out, they’ll yell at me.” Harper looked at me. “Seeing you act so spineless pisses me off! “Did Audrey bully you? You’re the real heiress, what are you afraid of? “Useless! Just follow my lead from now on!” I smiled. Sowing discord: mission accomplished! Harper was Audrey’s number one lapdog at school, and Harper’s family business was booming. Turning an enemy into an ally had massive benefits. In just one week, Harper introduced me to her entire social circle. “The more friends you have, the easier life is, got it? “Let’s see how that little bitch Audrey tries to bully you now.” I wanted to laugh. Harper was actually a very straightforward, blunt person. Thanks to her, almost all of Audrey’s former lackeys had been successfully bought off by me. 8 When I got home that day, the atmosphere in the house was incredibly oppressive. My dad sat in the living room with a dark scowl. The moment I walked in, the interrogation began. “Chloe, how are you getting along with your classmates? “Did you get into a fight with anyone?!” I blinked, then lowered my head, intentionally stammering and hesitating. I made sure to subtly glance up at Audrey every few seconds. “Several companies suddenly canceled their contracts with us! They’re all the families of your classmates! “Chloe, I told you when you started school to build good relationships! Do you have any idea how much money you just lost the company?!” My dad chewed me out without even asking for my side of the story. From an angle he couldn’t see, Audrey raised an eyebrow at me, then immediately put on her “good girl” act. “Dad, please let it go. Chloe just got back, she doesn’t understand these things. “She grew up in an orphanage, how could she possibly understand corporate politics? “Besides, those people are all snobs. I’ll go back to school tomorrow and explain things to them. I’ll handle it.” My dad frowned at me, but his gaze softened significantly when he looked at Audrey. “Chloe, you really need to learn from your sister! “I don’t expect you to instantly become a perfect socialite, but you can’t be dragging our family down! So many canceled contracts all at once—we’re going to be in the financial news, do you understand?! Our stock is already fluctuating!” My eyes welled with tears and I whispered, “I understand, Dad.” Audrey mouthed a silent “You deserve it” at me. I didn’t argue back. I just hoped she’d keep that same energy tomorrow. 9 The next morning, my dad personally drove us to the academy gates. “Audrey, make sure you talk to your classmates. “Having so many partnerships canceled at once is really bad for our family’s reputation.” Audrey nodded firmly. “Don’t worry, Dad. I’ve got this!” I had to pinch my own thigh to keep from laughing out loud. If he was relying on Audrey, he definitely shouldn’t be worrying. He should be panicking. Audrey marched into the classroom exactly like I remembered from my past life—spine straight, chin high, even letting out a delicate cough to announce her presence. Everyone looked up, but not a single person acknowledged her. Instead, they waved enthusiastically at me. “Chloe, over here! I brought you snacks today!” Audrey frowned, opening her mouth to speak, but the bell rang. For the entire period, Audrey kept looking left and right, trying to strike up a conversation. But sadly, not a single person gave her the time of day. As soon as class ended, Audrey couldn’t hold back anymore. She marched straight over to her old clique. “Long time no see, guys! Did you miss me? “Let’s do dinner at my house tonight! I’ll have the chef set up a barbecue on the terrace!” She was met with dead silence. Audrey’s face darkened, looking incredibly embarrassed. “Harper, what’s going on?” “Tch. We’re not worthy of rubbing elbows with a billionaire’s daughter. And I definitely wouldn’t dare eat your barbecue. What if your chef thinks I’m poor and pathetic? What if he doesn’t like my ‘obsessive personality’? I’ll pass.” Audrey stiffened. “Wh-what are you talking about?” “Stop acting!” Harper actively stepped away from Audrey. “I can’t believe I actually thought we were best friends. You make me sick!” “Harper…” Tears welled up in Audrey’s eyes. Here comes her classic routine. “We haven’t seen each other in so long, why are you talking to me like this? “I even had someone bring back that French perfume you wanted…” Before she could finish, the group that had been crowded around her instantly scattered. Realizing she had just made a fool of herself, Audrey stood frozen, looking utterly bewildered. I helpfully chimed in: “Don’t forget the mission Dad gave you. “But from the looks of it, it seems like you’re the one who offended everyone~”

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The popular girl partied all day, juggling several guys, yet she was always ranked number one. I, on the other hand, was the eternal runner-up. Everyone adored her, but I remained cold and indifferent toward her. What she didn’t know was that I could hear her inner voice. [What’s the point of studying so hard? I’m the main character. Getting into Harvard is my pre-written plotline. You’re just destined to fail your finals and become my loyal little sidekick.] Is that so? I will always believe that 100% hard work makes you invincible. 1 During the long break, I was hunched over my desk, furiously doing practice problems. Meanwhile, Bella Crawford’s desk in front of me was surrounded by people. The girls chattered excitedly: “Omg, Bella, your new necklace is gorgeous. Preston gave it to you, right? I’m so jealous. You have top grades, you’re so pretty, and you have a boyfriend who adores you.” Bella giggled coyly, “If you guys really like it, I’ll gift you all something similar next time. One for everyone~” The crowd cheered, disrupting my train of thought. Frustrated, I tossed my pen down. The clatter of the pen caught their attention and sparked dissatisfaction. Someone muttered, “Still studying during break? So try-hard, yet she’s still the eternal runner-up.” I looked up. Before I could say anything, Bella stepped in to play the peacemaker. “Maya, they didn’t mean it. Don’t take it to heart. You’ll definitely catch up to me on the next test.” I slept at 1 AM and woke up at 5 AM every day, burning the midnight oil with endless practice tests, yet I could never beat Bella. Her words deflated my momentum. “Mhm,” I replied flatly. Perhaps my reaction wasn’t enthusiastic enough. I clearly saw a flash of disdain and pity in her eyes. But it was fleeting. She had already turned back around, accepting the girls’ flattery once more. “Bella, you’re just too humble. No matter how hard she tries, she’ll always be beneath you.” “Right? Look at her acting all superior just because she studies.” “What’s the point of good grades if you have no social skills?” Amidst the crowd’s gossiping, I suddenly heard another, mocking voice. [Yeah, what’s the point of studying so hard? I’m the main character. Getting into Harvard is my pre-written plotline. You’re just destined to fail your college placements and become my loyal little sidekick.] That was undeniably Bella’s voice. 2 I stared intensely at the back of the girl sitting in front of me, but she clearly hadn’t opened her mouth. Was I getting so jealous of being the runner-up that I was hallucinating? I forced myself to adjust my mindset and dove back into my sea of practice questions. No matter what, hard work is never wrong. At dinnertime, Bella came over to invite me to the cafeteria again. She invited me every single day, showing me an unusual amount of warmth, which made everyone else exceptionally jealous. After all, she was the school’s “It Girl.” Even the trust fund slacker who always hung around her had warned me not to push my luck and waste Bella’s goodwill. I declined as usual. Aside from the fact that Bella always rolled with an entourage and ordered a ridiculous, wasteful spread of food… With the final state exams approaching, I had compressed my time to the absolute limit. If I wasn’t hungry, I’d just skip dinner and stay in the classroom. Unexpectedly, she showed some concern: “Don’t work yourself to death. Studying isn’t just about brute force, it’s about talent too. You need to learn to be flexible~” She winked at me, turned, and walked away. Right after she turned around, I heard that voice again. [Just wait until you fail your finals, then you’ll realize how incredibly benevolent my concern for you is right now. When the time comes, you’ll be thanking me like a dog just for tossing you a job.] This wasn’t an illusion. It wasn’t an auditory hallucination. It was definitively a voice coming from Bella! I froze in my seat, my fingernails unconsciously digging into my palms. No wonder she never studied yet effortlessly scored first place. No wonder everyone was involuntarily drawn to her. So, in this world, true fairness really didn’t exist. 3 Evening study hall ended, and the sky was pitch black. Outside the classroom, Preston Vance, the trust fund slacker, was waiting for Bella to finish class. “Hurry up, babe. I booked a VIP booth at the club for your birthday tonight. I’ve got a surprise.” Bella replied sweetly, “I know, I know.” As she walked past me, she shot me a breezy glance. That sarcastic voice chimed in again: [Hilarious, still reading. Tonight your mom is going to end up hospitalized with carbon monoxide poisoning. Starting tomorrow, your proud head will be lowered forever. When that happens, you’ll be endlessly grateful when I toss a few pennies your way.] I snapped my head up and glared at her, my eyes terrifying. She quickly looked away and sauntered off toward Preston as if nothing happened. I didn’t even grab my backpack. I sprinted out of the classroom, shoving past Preston. Curses echoed behind me, but I didn’t care. A walk that usually took fifteen minutes took me barely seven as I ran all the way home. Inside, my exhausted mother was hunched over, preparing a late-night snack for me. Seeing me standing at the door panting, she teased gently: “What’s the rush, sweetie? You’re home early today. I just finished making you some food.” I walked straight into the kitchen and checked the stove. Sure enough, the gas valve hadn’t been shut off properly. I violently twisted the valve shut, my eyes red as I yelled, “The gas wasn’t turned off! Are you trying to get yourself killed?!” I rarely spoke to my mother like that. She froze, confused. “Huh? I usually remember. I must have been out of it today. Good thing my girl is so careful.” I looked at my mother. Barely forty, yet her hair was already greying. She was wearing a grease-stained apron. A wave of terrifying grief and relief washed over me. I threw my arms around her, swallowing the lump in my throat, and whispered, “Mom, please don’t ever forget again.” 4 That night, I looked at the photos Bella posted on Instagram. In the photos, she was in a lavish VIP booth, holding a massive bouquet of roses, laughing coyly, looking like the picture of pure innocence. The caption: [Thanks to a certain someone for the birthday surprise~] My mother had been straddling the line between life and death, while she was out partying, completely burden-free. She clearly knew the plot beforehand. She could have saved a life! Bella was just afraid that changing the plot would affect her future path as the “Main Character.” A path paved with human lives, yet she accepted it so calmly. Beneath that innocent exterior lay an incredibly venomous soul. I refused to believe that someone with such blatant disregard for human life could have a bright future. I refused to believe that my eighteen years of grueling hard work couldn’t beat some so-called “Main Character Halo.” I refused to believe that my efforts existed only to serve as her foil. I refuse. I refuse to believe that this is how the world works! A pre-written plot? Then I’ll be the one to break it. I’ll show you that human will can defy destiny, and that 100% hard work is truly invincible. The next day, as soon as I arrived at the classroom, Bella approached me with red rims around her eyes, looking like she was about to cry. “Maya, I heard your mom was hospitalized for a gas leak yesterday. It must be so serious.” I sneered and said, “Huh? Your mom had a gas leak? Is it serious? Is she dead? Do you need me to recommend a good cemetery?” Bella’s face flushed red with anger. She gritted her teeth. “I’m talking about your mom!” I pushed my chair back a step. “Why are you cursing people?” Unable to hold back, she yelled, “I said your mom had a gas leak!” I scoffed. “You were crying so hard, I thought it was your mom. Don’t worry, my mom is perfectly healthy, my mom is doing great, and my mom is going to live a long, long life!” 5 Seeing me arguing with Bella, our classmates crowded around, ready to blindly accuse me. I immediately plopped down on the floor and wailed loudly, “Everyone, look at this! Bella has such a toxic mouth, cursing my family first thing in the morning. My mom is a single mother, what did she ever do to you? Why would you curse her to die in a gas leak? Are you this cruel because you don’t have a mom of your own? Waaaah!” Perhaps because I usually maintained a cold, quiet persona, my sudden outburst left the classmates staring at each other, utterly speechless. Bella stood there, stunned, muttering, “But her mom should have already died from the gas leak…” The room was dead silent, making her murmur exceptionally loud. The classmates looked horrified. “Why is she actually cursing people’s families?” “I couldn’t tell she was that kind of person normally.” “Bella, hurry up and apologize to Maya.” Eventually, the commotion brought Mr. Davis, the Dean of Students. In the office, I cried my eyes out. “Mr. Davis, you know my family situation isn’t good. My mom raised me all by herself. For her to come up and curse my mom like that… what kind of behavior is this?!” Mr. Davis looked at me with sympathy. He often privately encouraged me to “study hard and change my destiny.” He turned to Bella sternly. “You’re supposed to be our top student, and you pull a stunt like this? Apologize to Maya right now! And write a thousand-word reflection essay!” Bella looked like she was waking from a dream. “It shouldn’t be like this… the plot isn’t supposed to go like this…” How was it supposed to go? My mom dying to pave your way? Me giving up my future to become your bag-carrying lackey? Hearing her mutter this, the Dean scolded her even more harshly. Finally, looking utterly aggrieved, Bella reluctantly apologized to me. You feel wronged just by this? Then you better brace yourself for what’s coming. 6 The moment I stepped out of the office, I saw Preston glaring at me as if he wanted to murder me. Bella threw herself into his arms, sobbing loudly, acting as if she had suffered the greatest injustice in the world. Preston rushed over, grabbed me by the collar, and spat, “You vicious bitch, apologize to Bella right now!” I slapped his hand away and said coldly, “What am I apologizing for? It’s perfectly fine for her to curse someone’s parents?” “Bella would never do that! She definitely didn’t mean it!” I looked at Preston, amused, and enunciated every word clearly: “Preston, be careful you don’t drop dead tomorrow.” Then I shrugged my shoulders. “Oops, I didn’t mean it either~” Bella cried even louder. Before leaving, I looked back at the two of them and offered my sincere blessing: “You two really are a match made in heaven.” For the next few days, Bella continued to play the innocent victim, asking about my well-being daily. When I ignored her, she’d tear up to garner sympathy. “Maya, I really lost my mind that day. Are you still refusing to forgive me?” The classmates around us chimed in, “Yeah, Maya. Bella is being so sincere, do you really have to hold a grudge?” The inner voice I heard wasn’t sincere at all. What she was actually saying was: [Why did this damn Maya suddenly deviate from the plot? She’s so hard to deal with now, and I still need her brain to help me with my investments later in the story!] I swept a cold gaze over my classmates. More or less, all of them had accepted gifts from Bella. Bella had excellent grades, plus the heir to the Vance Corporation acting as her lapdog. Even at seventeen or eighteen, many had already learned to suck up to the powerful, hoping Bella would become a valuable connection for them in the future. I chuckled lightly. “I guess it’s true what they say: take someone’s money, and your mouth belongs to them. What a pathetic bunch of future leaders.” 7 I didn’t expect my words to have such an impact. The next day, as soon as I entered the classroom, I saw a girl returning a gift to Bella. The girl looked down and said, “Bella, thank you for the gift, but I don’t think I can accept it.” Before Bella could respond, she scurried back to her seat. While some classmates woke up, naturally there were those who continued to act like lapdogs, pinning their hopes on others. They only hated me more. But I didn’t care. During break, the girl who returned the gift quietly came over to ask me about a calculus problem. Bella’s “talent” could only be used on exams. The plot would always arrange for her to write down the correct answer. But her brain knew absolutely nothing about the actual problem-solving process. So whenever classmates asked her questions, she always found excuses to deflect. I patiently explained the steps to the girl. Before leaving, she looked at me with admiration. “Maya, you’re really amazing. Let’s work hard together!” I felt genuinely moved. This was the atmosphere our class was supposed to have. Not everyone crowding around Bella, praising her latest designer jewelry. I sighed inwardly and dove back into the sea of test papers. Lately, I had more important things to focus on. I needed to negotiate with the science teachers about joining the Academic Decathlon team. Previously, I hadn’t taken official competition prep courses. Many students aiming for that route had prepared early. Someone from a poor background like me couldn’t afford it. So I had focused entirely on the standard college admissions exams, fearing that if I failed to secure an early-admissions spot through the competitions, it would tank my regular test scores. But now, since relying solely on the regular exams carried “plot” risks, I decided to play both sides! 8 The moment I joined the advanced prep class, Bella followed right behind me. She was ranked first; joining the honors track was a breeze for her. The second she stepped into the room, I heard her resentful inner voice again: [Why is she suddenly doing the academic competitions? I have to spend so many of my Reward Points to get the answers for these questions. I could have just cruised straight into Harvard. This side character is so annoying.] I curled my lips into a smile. Ah, so you have Reward Points? Let’s see what you do when those points run dry. Resources are meant to be utilized. Whenever I got stuck on a complex problem, I went straight to Bella. “Bella, how do you solve this? You’re number one, you definitely know how to do it, right~” Hearing her internally agonize as she spent Reward Points to unlock the answers was deeply satisfying. Except, every time she explained a problem, there was always someone else there freeloading off the answer. Our school’s physics prodigy, Liam Gallagher. Every time he heard Bella give the answer, he looked at her with admiration. Bella rejoiced internally: [Well, coming to the competition class makes it easier to conquer the Second Male Lead anyway. It’s a win.] Oh, I forgot. This was Bella’s other side-piece. Except this side-piece was a massive nerd. Every time, he chased after Bella asking her to break down her thought process. Hilarious. What thought process did she have? Eventually, Bella could only awkwardly deflect: “You don’t even know how to do something this simple? You should just read the textbook more.” 9 Well, perfect. Once Liam realized Bella wouldn’t explain things to him, he turned to me for help. In just a few sentences, I could point him in the exact right direction. So, he stopped leeching off Bella and started leeching off me. Watching this, Bella looked like she was ready to grind her teeth to dust. Although I had zero interest in guys, seeing her miserable made me very happy. Perhaps realizing that defeating me through studying was impossible, Bella shifted her focus elsewhere. Preston and his lackeys caused trouble for me multiple times. He threatened me: “If you dare make Bella unhappy again, I’ll have the school expel you.” The Vance family was incredibly powerful. His dad had donated two buildings to the school, so this wasn’t an empty threat. Too bad it didn’t work on me. I acted completely arrogant. “Outside of this school, there are plenty of academies fighting to recruit me. I’m tied directly to this school’s Ivy League acceptance rates. They need to put my face on the Wall of Honor to advertise their elite education. Do you really think they’d be willing to expel me?” Probably having never heard someone speak so boldly to him, Preston froze. I smirked. “A useless trust fund baby like you, who only knows how to squander family money, could never understand the joy of academic excellence. “So go ahead, guard your inherited assets and secretly pat yourself on the back. Because soon enough, you’ll realize that being born with everything is worthless compared to earning it yourself!” Before I left, I waved a recording pen at him, laughing freely.

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Years after I graduated college, a novel I wrote about second chances and a broken romance unexpectedly went viral. The male lead was based on him. At my book’s press conference, he sat in the front row as the primary investor. His girlfriend smiled brightly at the cameras. “We’re getting engaged soon. I hope certain people don’t read too much into a fictional story and embarrass themselves.” A reporter stubbornly pressed on, “Mr. Thorne, since you clearly dislike the author, why did you buy the rights to her book?” Sebastian Thorne didn’t even glance in my direction. He answered coolly, “The plot is clumsy and cheap. I bought it so I’d never have to see it again.” 1 “Did you hear? The male and female leads never actually got back together in real life. She dumped him.” “Why?” “Because he was broke, obviously.” “Then when Sebastian Thorne became a billionaire heir, she crawled back begging for a second chance, and he shut her down.” “Wow, and she still had the nerve to write a book about it?” The AC in the press conference hall was blasting, set to a freezing 64 degrees. The murmurs and insults from the readers echoed through the room. I kept my head down, meticulously signing my pen name on the title pages. I wrote this novel the year I graduated. I never expected it to blow up. The harder the readers shipped the fictional couple back then, the more viciously they attacked me now that my history with Sebastian had been dug up. But I couldn’t afford to be upset. Even if I had to smile while being cursed at, I had to finish this event. Because this was the investor’s demand. Sebastian was currently sitting in the front row. He looked calm and authoritative, watching the girl beside him field questions from the press. “We’re getting engaged soon. I hope certain people don’t read too much into a fictional story and embarrass themselves.” The girl’s smile was sickeningly sweet. “If someone ruined a man’s life and then expected to just waltz back into it… well, that would just be shameless, wouldn’t it?” I knew this woman. Valerie Kensington. We were classmates in college. Her family and the Thorne family were old money, deeply connected. Back when I was dating Sebastian, she proactively befriended me, acting like my ultimate best friend. After graduation, she acted like I didn’t exist. The microphone was passed to Sebastian. “Mr. Thorne, rumor has it that you and the author share a very intense history. How exactly did you two break up back then?” Sebastian didn’t even look at me. “I suggest you ask the author.” His freezing tone only fueled the rumors. Confirming the narrative that I was a gold-digger who threw him away. A wave of laughter rippled through the crowd. “Someone mentioned your first choice wasn’t business, but becoming a research scientist.” “Could you tell us why you ultimately chose to return and inherit the family empire?” Sebastian’s gaze finally cut through the crowd, landing squarely on me. He stared at me expressionless for a long moment. Then, he looked away. “I was young. I didn’t know what I really wanted.” “Facts have proven that people belong in the circles they are familiar with.” “As for the rest… I just rolled with the punches.” After finishing, he asked flatly, “Miss Sterling, wouldn’t you agree?” Facing the cameras, my mind went completely blank. Just as I opened my mouth to say something, Sebastian lowered his eyes and started chatting with the executive next to him, clearly unbothered by whatever my answer might be. The massive screen in the hall cut back to a clip of his earlier interview. “What was your reason for buying the rights to this book?” Sebastian’s voice was ice. “The plot is clumsy and cheap. I bought it so I’d never have to see it again.” 2 Honestly, I only found out today that Sebastian was my investor. Hardly any of my actual fans showed up to the press conference. Instead, I was hit with an industry blacklist. My book was being pulled from all online platforms, and the physical copies were halting production. “Maya, I’m afraid the movie adaptation is dead in the water.” After the event, my editor, Oliver, pulled me aside. I stood by the exit, a little dazed. His eyes landed on my ear, hesitating for a moment. He asked, “Your… ear?” I touched the hearing aid hidden beneath my hair, feeling a flush of embarrassment. “Yeah… The doctor said there’s a new surgical implant available. I wanted to try it.” Over the last few years, my hearing had steadily deteriorated. If I didn’t stare directly at someone’s lips, I essentially couldn’t understand a word they were saying. The surgery cost $100,000. If I lost my royalties, there was no way I could afford it. Oliver sighed. “I’m so sorry. I can’t help you.” I knew it was hard for him too. We were just a small publishing house trying to survive. No one expected us to be targeted by apex capital. The manuscript I wrote years ago had been dug up and hyped into a frenzy, pushing me directly into the crosshairs. “It’s okay. I’ll figure something else out.” He patted my shoulder. Before he could finish his sentence, someone violently bumped into me. I stumbled forward, and my hearing aid flew out of my ear and hit the floor. “Oh man, I’m so sorry…” A delivery guy scrambled into the elevator and disappeared. I crouched down and realized the delicate device was cracked in half. The noisy ambient sounds of the venue were instantly muffled, turning into a thick, underwater hum. Until a shadow cast over me, blocking the overhead lights. A pair of polished black dress shoes stopped right in front of me. I looked up. Sebastian, looking impeccable in his tailored suit. Through the cold, metallic frames of his glasses, he looked down at me with absolutely zero warmth. His hand was resting against a towering stack of delivery boxes that had almost tipped over. His brows were furrowed in deep irritation. “Are you deaf?” I read his lips perfectly. I also saw the terrified delivery worker pushing the cart next to him, apologizing profusely. Apparently, I had crouched right in the middle of the hallway, blocking his path, and I hadn’t heard his warnings. Sebastian had caught the heavy boxes just before they crushed me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause trouble.” I frantically stuffed the broken pieces of my hearing aid into my purse, stood up, and apologized to the worker. Sebastian pulled his hand back, and the boxes slammed onto the floor right next to my feet. “This is my building. I don’t want any accidents happening on the premises. That is all.” With that, he turned and walked away without a single backward glance. 3 I was busy all day and hadn’t eaten a thing. I got a text from my best friend, so I gave her a quick rundown of the situation. “Valerie and Sebastian are actually together?” She immediately blew up my phone. “Does he even know what kind of monster she is?! If she hadn’t abandoned you back then, would you even be in this state?!” I paused, typing back: “Running away from danger is human instinct. I can’t… blame anyone else for that.” The June weather was incredibly unpredictable. A torrential downpour started without warning. Across the street, a massive LED billboard flashed an advertisement for a luxury real estate project co-funded by the Thorne and Kensington families. Business was booming. I remembered reading a financial analysis online once. Alliances between elite families were impenetrable fortresses. In the years since graduation, I occasionally heard updates about Sebastian from old classmates. Everyone used to think he was just a brilliant kid from a poor family. His grades were flawless, and he had even won first place at the National Physics Olympiad. When we broke up, he was actively negotiating a full-ride fellowship at MIT. But after our split, his grades mysteriously plummeted. He lost his spot. When he finally resurfaced, it was as the newly revealed heir to the Thorne empire, stepping into the media spotlight. He was a completely different person. Ruthless, cutthroat, and terrifyingly efficient. I knew exactly who was responsible for those changes. And because of that, I had absolutely no right to say a word to defend myself or clear the air about our past. Raindrops blew under my umbrella. My face and clothes were soaked. I touched my ear, hailed a cab by the curb, and went to find someone to fix my hearing aid. The muffled thunder sounded like it was wrapped in cotton, vibrating uselessly against my eardrums. 4 Oliver was a genuinely good guy. He refused to let my hard work go down the drain. He spent days calling in favors until he finally connected with a small, independent film studio. They were willing to risk offending Sebastian to produce my script. Oliver set up a dinner meeting. If we sealed the deal, I’d get my advance next week. Unfortunately, luck wasn’t on my side. The night of the dinner, Oliver got stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic. Leaving me alone at a table full of strangers. And to make matters exponentially worse, Valerie was there. My hearing aid hadn’t been fixed yet. So for the entire night, I had to hyper-focus on everyone’s lips just to decipher what they were saying. Valerie crossed her legs, swirling her wine. “Gentlemen, no need to be polite with Miss Sterling. For the right price, she’ll do absolutely anything.” One of the sleazy producers immediately chimed in, “Life is so stressful. Doesn’t Miss Sterling want to make things a little easier for herself?” The table erupted in predatory laughter. I kept my head down, gripped my wine glass, took a small sip, and remained completely silent. Oliver had begged for this meeting. His wife just had a baby, and he was under a mountain of pressure. I couldn’t let his efforts go to waste. I just had to wait for him to arrive. But I underestimated how far they were willing to go. The comments grew increasingly vulgar. “If you come back to my hotel tonight, I’ll—” A tall figure suddenly stepped between me and the producer, completely blocking my view. “You want her to do what at your hotel?” I looked up and saw Sebastian glaring down at the man, spitting out the words like shards of ice. Under the harsh overhead lights, his sharp features looked terrifyingly lethal. Why was he here? Valerie’s smug smile vanished. She bolted upright. “Sebastian, what are you doing here?” The sleazy producer instantly turned pale, losing his voice entirely. “Mr… Mr. Thorne…” Sebastian grabbed my wrist and dragged me away. Before I could even process what was happening, I was being pulled out of the restaurant. Valerie panicked, screaming, “Sebastian… don’t be reckless!” Her voice was quickly left behind. He didn’t stop until he practically threw me into the passenger seat of his Maybach. “How much?” The freezing words slammed into my ears. Sebastian gripped the steering wheel, the veins on the back of his hand bulging, radiating pure fury. I stared at him blankly. “What?” He let out a dark, furious laugh, reached into his jacket, pulled out a black Amex card, and threw it into my lap. “Tens of thousands? Hundreds of thousands? Millions? Swipe whatever you want. There’s no need for you to go wagging your tail and begging for scraps from those disgusting old men.” It felt like a needle had been driven into my heart. I wanted to explain. But how could I? I was desperate for money. The brutal reality of the last few years had ground my pride into dust. There is nothing more terrifying in this world than poverty. “Didn’t you want money?” Sebastian ground his teeth. “Or do you think my money is too dirty for you?” I picked up the card, clutching it tightly, and offered a weak, pathetic response: “Let me borrow $100,000. I’ll pay you back.” I knew the limit on this card was infinitely higher than $100,000. It probably had no limit at all. Sebastian’s face hardened. “Really? Remember you said that.” “Every single month from now on, I better see a deposit in my account. If I don’t, you’ll be hearing from my lawyers.” “So, you better not try disappearing on me again.” I clenched my jaw. “I’m not that kind of person.” “You aren’t?” Sebastian leaned in close, trapping me. “Maya Sterling, when it comes to me, you have a documented criminal record.” I choked on my words. I tried to open the car door, but Sebastian blocked me. He braced his hand against the window, his other hand gripping my jaw, forcing my head up. Forcing me to look him in the eye. “Now, let’s talk about the price.” I froze. “What price?” “Did you think I was just going to let you use me out of the goodness of my heart?” His freezing fingertips traced my cheekbone like a merciless blade. “Maya, you made your bed. Don’t expect any mercy from me now.” “So, strictly business—” The end of his sentence blurred into a fuzzy hum in my ears. “Sign the marriage contract, and I’ll give it to you.” 5 The car glided silently through the city streets. Sebastian didn’t let me out. Because ten minutes ago, I had blurted out a desperate lie: “I’m getting married.” Sebastian’s expression turned apocalyptic. He stared out the window at the gloomy sky, refusing to say a word. After a long, suffocating silence, he asked: “To who?” I didn’t catch it clearly. I looked at his lips. “Hmm? What?” Sebastian raised his eyes. “I asked you, who are you marrying?” I opened my mouth, but for a long time, I couldn’t produce a single name. Having navigated the cutthroat corporate world, Sebastian’s intuition was lethal. He asked calmly, “Time, location, do your college friends know?” I couldn’t answer a single one of those questions. Sebastian’s eyelids twitched. “Maya, to avoid me, you don’t even bother drafting a believable lie anymore?” “It’s none of your business.” “Sign this.” He suddenly tossed a document into my lap. The bold letters on the A4 paper read: Pre-Nuptial Agreement. My heart seized as I read the clauses. Did he… not care at all? Almost every single clause was overwhelmingly in my favor. “I’m sorry. I can’t agree to this.” “Give me a reason.” I pushed the contract back toward him. “You and Valerie—” Before I finished my sentence, I saw a profound, searching look cross Sebastian’s face. “You actually care?” “After disappearing without a trace for years, never sending a single text, never asking about me once… you care?” “So why should it matter to you who I get engaged to, or what I think?” Honestly, I wanted to scream that I did ask about him… But explaining it now would just be useless noise. Sebastian said, “Marrying Valerie was a corporate alliance arranged by the family. I have absolutely no personal relationship with her.” “Maya, think this through.” His gaze was piercing. “Marry me, and you’ll get everything you want.” “Fame, the movie adaptation, and—” “Money.” In that moment, I finally understood why Sebastian had blacklisted me in the first place. Desperation makes a person easier to control. He had always been a master hunter. He just wanted to force me out of hiding. “But what do you get out of this?” “You.” Sebastian’s tone was completely detached. “Don’t imagine our future is going to be some fairy tale.” “All the agonizing pain I’ve endured, I’m going to return it to you, piece by piece.” Actually, I had no reason to refuse. I desperately needed the money. I was willing to do it. 6 Sebastian and I got our marriage license. The very day we signed the papers, he went straight back to the office. Before he left, he handed me an address. “I expect to see you at home tonight.” His voice was ice-cold. Devoid of any emotion. I thought about it and decided to make an appointment with the hearing aid clinic. At the very least, I needed to be able to understand him clearly when we spoke. “Miss Sterling, I’m so sorry, but your old unit is beyond repair. I highly suggest purchasing our newest model.” Hearing aids are obscenely expensive. It wasn’t something I could just casually buy. Over the years, paying for my mom’s medical bills had completely drained my accounts. I stared at the price sheet, letting out a deep sigh in my heart. I pulled out Sebastian’s black card. The sales rep’s eyes lit up. “Ma’am, you could absolutely upgrade to our premium—” “No need. Just this one is fine.” I cut her off, watching her swipe the card through the machine and hand it back to me with a beaming smile. I felt sick to my stomach. Sebastian would get the transaction alert, right? Dropping a massive amount of money on the very first day of our marriage… I didn’t even want to know what he thought of me. The truth was, he didn’t say a single word to me for the rest of the day. The new hearing aid would take a while to arrive. I went back to my tiny apartment, packed my basic toiletries, and took an Uber to the address he gave me. It was a sprawling mansion in an ultra-wealthy neighborhood. There wasn’t a soul in sight. There was a small golden retriever playing in the yard. When it saw me, it happily wagged its tail. I crouched down and patted its head. “Hi there, are you Casper?” He barked happily twice and offered me his paw. Yep, definitely Casper. Sebastian hadn’t changed at all. Still terrible at naming things. The mansion was spotless, but entirely devoid of warmth or life. I hugged Casper, sitting rigidly on the edge of the massive sofa. I pulled out my phone and mindlessly clicked onto Valerie’s Instagram page. She had blocked me ages ago, but for some inexplicable reason, her profile was public today. She had posted a story just minutes ago. It was a photo of a corporate boardroom. In her frame, Sebastian sat at the head of the table, wearing his glasses, looking deadly serious as he listened to a presentation. In front of every executive at the table was a standard bottle of sparkling water. But right next to Sebastian’s seat—where she was sitting—was a cup of hot milk tea, looking completely out of place in the sterile corporate environment. The caption read: “Today’s special privilege. ✨” I locked my phone in dead silence. I tied my hair up and dragged my suitcase into the guest bedroom. I stayed busy until evening. I thought about sending Sebastian a text to ask if he was coming home for dinner. I typed half the message, then deleted it. I wanted to take a shower, only to find that the water was completely shut off in all the guest bathrooms. I waited like that until midnight. I lay on the sofa, exhausted to the bone. Casper, who was sleeping on my stomach, suddenly perked up. I realized someone had come home. I sat up groggily, locking eyes with Sebastian as he pushed the front door open. The moment he saw me, his eyes darkened. There was a suffocatingly awkward pause. Only Casper happily trotted over, rubbing against Sebastian’s legs. I opened my mouth, my voice raspy. “You’re back?” Sebastian subtly took in my messy hair, loosened his tie, and gave a faint “Mhm.” Then he crouched down to pet the dog. I tightened my grip on my ring finger, feeling the cold metal of my wedding band. It felt so absurd. Years ago, I used to dream endlessly about what our married life would be like. Years later, we were finally living together, but in the most bizarre, twisted way imaginable. I licked my dry lips. “Then I’ll… go to sleep.” “Hold on.” Sebastian’s voice stopped me in my tracks. “You’re sleeping in the guest room?” I understood his implication. “No, I’ll move my things to the master bedroom right now.” 7 As Sebastian walked past me, I caught the faint scent of expensive liquor. And on the collar of his crisp white shirt, there was a bright crimson lipstick stain. But I didn’t have the right to ask about it. The sound of running water echoed from the master bathroom. Apparently, the shower in his room worked perfectly fine. I hesitated for a long time. When the water finally stopped, I grabbed my towel and walked over. The door opened. Sebastian emerged from the steam. He only had a towel wrapped low around his waist. Water droplets trailed down his sculpted abs and disappeared into the plush white terrycloth. He held the door open. “Do you need something?” I said, “The water isn’t working anywhere else in the house.” “Yeah, I know.” His blunt reply choked me. Sebastian continued, “The pipes are broken. The plumbers can’t come until Monday.” We stood there in a silent standoff. He was waiting for me to yield. I nodded. “Then… can I borrow—” “Do whatever you want.” Sebastian dropped the icy words, brushed past my shoulder, and walked straight into his study. Leaving behind the lingering, cool scent of mint body wash. My best friend texted me: “Did you buy the hearing aid?” “Yeah, I used Sebastian’s money.” Even though I planned to pay him back, his money had undeniably saved my life. After my shower, I thought about it, sliced up a plate of fruit, and brought it to his study to thank him. Sebastian was on a business call. When he saw me, he merely threw a fleeting, dismissive glance my way. It completely wiped the carefully rehearsed speech from my brain. “Speak. What is it?” He ended his call quickly, raising his eyes to stare at my damp, flushed face. “I was worried you might be thirsty, so I brought you some fruit.” Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you think a glass of water would be more efficient?” I stammered, “I’ll go get you some—” A sudden, forceful yank threw me completely off balance. I tumbled backward, landing squarely on his lap. The scent of mint engulfed me. “What exactly is your goal here? Do you really need to try this hard to please me?” His eyes were impossibly dark. “You hid from me for years. You took the money, and that’s still not enough? Now you’re trying to seduce me?” I suddenly realized that because of the humidity from the shower, my silk nightgown had become somewhat translucent. The atmosphere shifted entirely into something dangerous… “I wasn’t—” I tried to explain. Sebastian stood up, lifting me effortlessly, and set me down on the edge of his mahogany desk, trapping me in his arms. “You weren’t?” I was speechless. My hands balled into tight fists. Just as my eyes started to dart away in panic, Sebastian crashed his lips down onto mine. An aggressively dominant, punishing kiss immediately scrambled all my senses. My body went weak. I desperately gripped his collar, gasping for air. Maybe muscle memory was just too powerful. For a brief second, I actually kissed him back. Stacks of documents cascaded off the desk. A glass paperweight shattered on the floor. He pulled back slightly, panting heavily. He yanked open a drawer and pulled something out. “Sebastian… wait.” He paused. He looked at me with those devastatingly intense eyes, a flicker of his old, indulgent patience breaking through the coldness. “What is it?” “I have something to say.” “Say it.” “Today, I spent a lot of money.” “And? It was five grand. You really want to split hairs with me right now?” I swallowed hard. “I just wanted to come in here… to say thank you.” Sebastian stared at me silently for a few seconds. The fleeting warmth in his eyes vanished, replaced by his usual, detached cynicism. “So, to thank me, you decided to sleep with me?” “No.” “Then why?” Sebastian’s gaze was piercing, refusing to let me escape. “Maya, tell me. Look at the state of you right now. Hooking up with me like this… what exactly is your endgame?” I didn’t say a word. If I said “because I love you,” the financial transaction hanging over our heads would make it sound incredibly cheap and fake. Sebastian didn’t give me a chance to answer anyway. He picked me up and carried me all the way from the study to the bedroom. Even when I cried, he didn’t stop. Finally, Sebastian whispered into the dark: “It doesn’t matter, Maya. I don’t mind living like this…” The next morning, Sebastian left on a business trip. He didn’t leave a single message behind.

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1 That evening, a message popped up from the kid my mother was sponsoring. He sent a sheepish text explaining that he’d changed our Wi-Fi password when he came over to drop something off for Evelyn. He said he was just bored. He followed it up with a string of letters: CluelessOldFossil. I remembered how the Wi-Fi had suddenly cut out earlier that day, flashing a “wrong password” error. I’d asked Evelyn about it, but she just said it was probably a glitch. She was buried in her work, so I let it go. I didn’t reply to his text. That night, I had dinner with Evelyn, just like always. The next day, I changed the password again. At the morning meeting, I made a point of looking right at the kid. “By the way, the new Wi-Fi password is ‘HomeWrecker.’ Make sure you type it in right next time.” … Evelyn held it together for the entire day. The moment we got home, she exploded. “What the hell was that at the meeting this morning? Now everyone at the office thinks something is going on between me and Liam. Are you happy now?” “So you admit he was in our house while I was gone,” I said, my eyes fixed on the financial news flickering across the TV. I didn’t have to look at her to picture the storm brewing on her face. A second later, she stormed over and snapped the TV off. “Don’t forget, you’re the one who got him the job. He’s an employee, and he was here to deliver work files. What’s the big deal?” she shot back. “And what about that time on the bus? You humiliated him in public. Did you even once think about how that made me feel?” That time. I’d seen it with my own eyes: the cool, ever-composed Evelyn, squeezing onto a crowded city bus right alongside Liam. The old me would never have been able to imagine such a scene. For our anniversary last year, I’d planned a sunset bike ride. It was supposed to be romantic. Instead, she trailed me in her sports car, practically idling, watching me pedal by myself like an idiot. Finally, she’d just rolled down the window and said, “God, could you be any more cliché?” The memory soured in my mouth, and I fought to keep the rage out of my voice. “How long has it been going on between you two?” Silence stretched between us. She tilted her head back and let out a long, weary sigh. “I told you, it’s just work. Do you have to turn everything into a fight?” She paused, a cruel smirk twisting her lips. “You’re becoming more and more like your father. Always looking for trouble where there isn’t any.” My blood ran cold. Eight years ago, my mother began sponsoring Liam and his mom. My father became convinced they were having an affair. The suspicion drove him mad. He slit his wrists in the bathtub. The water turned a deep, sickening crimson, spilling over the edge to lick at my feet. It felt scalding, and my whole body shook. Evelyn rushed over when she got the call. She wrestled the blade from my hand as I tried to follow him, her arm taking the cut meant for me. She just held me, repeating over and over, “It’s okay, it’s okay…” It’s the nightmare that has haunted me my entire life. And now, she was using it to shut me up. By the time I surfaced from the memory, Evelyn was already in the bathroom. Her phone, left on the table, was open to Liam’s social media feed. She’d just liked his latest post. [Did a good deed with the boss today! She was so scared of needles she buried her face in my chest! Guess I’m the only one who’s seen her this vulnerable] The screen was a blur of flower and heart emojis, each one a weight crushing the air from my lungs. Evelyn has a severe phobia of blood. I know this better than anyone. When I was in that car accident, bleeding out, she was a perfect match. But she just stood there, watching me writhe in agony, sweat pouring down my face. She wouldn’t give a single drop. By the time the hospital found a compatible donor, I was already in the ICU. The doctor told me a few more minutes and I would have been gone. The comments section was a party. [Dude, details on the “buried her face” part?] [Her own husband almost died and she wouldn’t give him a drop of blood. How’d you manage this?] [Liam, you’re a legend!] Liam’s replies were flirty and vague, but I couldn’t really see them through the haze in my eyes. The only thing in focus was Evelyn’s thumbs-up. Her “like.” I tilted my head back, wiped the moisture from my eyes, and dialed my lawyer. “I need you to draw up divorce papers.” At 3 a.m., Evelyn shook me awake. “I just learned how to make dumplings. Get up and have some.” She dragged me into the kitchen. Flour dusted every surface, and bits of filling were scattered like confetti. It was my father’s recipe, the one he always used to recite from memory. She’d never stepped foot in the kitchen before. She used to complain about the smell of cooking oil on my clothes. Now, here she was, her face smudged with flour, her hands clumsily but intently folding the dough. The old me would have snapped a nine-photo collage for social media: [My wife made me dumplings by hand. I’m the luckiest man alive.] But now, I just fought back a yawn. “Have you ever cooked for him?” Her hands stilled. She shot me a look that screamed, Here we go again. “I made you food. I said nice things. What more do you want from me?” The next second, the bag of flour hit the floor with a soft thud. The dam inside me broke. “You let him come and go from our house as he pleases, you go with him to donate blood, everyone in the company is whispering about you two—” “Enough!” Her voice shot up, sharp and cracking. “You are my husband, Ryan, not some low-life picking fights in an alley. Look at yourself! Look at how crazy you’ve become!” She wasn’t done. “Liam comes from nothing, but he works hard and everyone at the company loves him. But you? The employees can’t stand you. Maybe you should take a look in the mirror and ask yourself why!” As she spoke, she was already typing on her phone. A notification popped up in the company-wide group chat. An official announcement firing me from my position. It took me five years to climb from an entry-level position to director. It took her one second to erase it all. “There. Are you satisfied?” she spat, yanking off her apron. “Now you won’t have to see any of this so-called ‘gossip’ from your employees anymore!” She stormed out of the house, leaving her phone on the counter. Some dark impulse made me pick it up. I opened her chat with Liam. Liam: [Did the trick I taught you work? Even the most stubborn old fossil can be tamed, right? ;)] Evelyn: [Haha, not so sure it’ll work on Ryan.] So, the dumplings were his idea. And she agreed with him. I was the stubborn, old fossil. Evelyn didn’t come home that night. Instead, she appeared in a live photo on Liam’s social media feed. Two shadowy figures, tangled together in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of her CEO office. The sound of a kiss, just for a second, was a knife twisting in my ear. The comments flooded in. [Is the boss getting a new husband?] [Finally! Maybe we can get rid of that old fossil for good. Things will be so much better at work!] She had to have known he was filming. She had to. She wanted me to see it. She wanted me to know that without the title of ‘Evelyn’s husband,’ I was nothing. No one would respect me. I had no right to question her. I would end up just like my father. My hand trembled as I liked the post. I went back to our bedroom, opened a suitcase, and started packing. The framed photo of us on the nightstand went straight into the trash. I was done. I was done with all of it. I sat awake until the early hours of the morning, when the email from my lawyer finally arrived. The divorce papers. I opened the file, signed my name without a moment’s hesitation, and asked him to have a physical copy delivered. I don’t know how long she’d been standing there, but suddenly Evelyn was behind me, a confused frown on her face. “Who’s getting a divorce?” “A friend,” I said, my voice flat, my expression unmoving. The tension instantly drained from her shoulders. She let out a knowing little laugh. “I figured,” she said. “Your father is dead. Your mother is drowning in debt from a lifetime of charity, needing her son’s wife just to pay her hospital bills. What right could you possibly have to ask for a divorce? I was worried for nothing.” Every word was a razor blade slicing me open. I said nothing. Her tone softened slightly. “As long as you play the part of my husband and stop with these baseless suspicions, I can give you anything you want.” She turned to leave, tossing one last comment over her shoulder. “The company’s promotion ceremony is tomorrow. It wouldn’t look right if you didn’t go.” For a split second, my heart fluttered. A foolish, desperate part of me fantasized that she was going to acknowledge my five years of hard work. I stayed up all night preparing a speech. I tried on the custom-tailored suit she had bought for me. The next day, the banquet hall was buzzing, glasses clinking. I stepped inside, and the condescending stares that met me wiped the practiced smile right off my face. Up on the brightly lit stage, Evelyn personally announced Liam as the new director. My replacement. “Oh, good, you’re here,” she said, her eyes finding me in the crowd. Her tone was casual, breezy. “If Liam has any questions moving forward, you can help him out. You’ll have plenty of free time at home, might as well do something useful.” A wave of snickers rippled through the room. The whispers found their way to my ears. “Looks like we were right. There’s no place for him at the company anymore.” “Not just the company. I bet there won’t be a place for him in the family for much longer either.” “He used to be Mr. Walker, Director Walker, throwing his weight around. Now look at him. He’s nothing! Ha!” … Evelyn heard them. She had to have heard them. She didn’t say a word to defend me. She stepped down from the stage and leaned in close, her voice a low murmur. “This promotion was Liam’s birthday wish. I had to make it happen.” “Besides,” she added, “you won’t have to work so hard anymore. Isn’t it better to just stay home?” She asked it so matter-of-factly, so certain I would just nod and agree. “But I…” But I poured my soul into this for five years to get to this point. She didn’t have the patience to hear me finish. She was already turning away, taking Liam by the arm to introduce him to industry executives, to all the important players. Just like she used to do with me. But that was then. She handed my project proposals to Liam, coaching him line by line on how to handle the executives’ toughest questions. The whole thing was a grotesque farce. I couldn’t stand it for another second. As I turned to leave, Liam’s voice stopped me. “Ryan,” he said, grabbing my arm, his grip deliberately tight. “You’re not mad at me for taking your job, are you? Please don’t hate me.” The innocent, grateful boy my mother had sponsored was gone. In his place was this… thing, his eyes glinting with provocation. I looked down, a bitter laugh escaping my lips, then met his gaze. “My mother sponsored you, paid for your college, supported you and your mom. It wasn’t so you could steal my wife.” The smile on Liam’s face froze for an instant, then returned, wider and uglier. “Well, may the best man win.” With that, he let out a sharp cry and stumbled backward, collapsing right into Evelyn’s arms. “Evelyn,” he whimpered, “seeing Ryan… it’s bringing back all the nightmares from college.” His voice broke. “His mother… she took advantage of me! She used the sponsorship as an excuse to…” The room erupted. Every head turned, every pair of eyes stared at me, filled with shock and disgust. My nerves screamed. My voice rose an octave. “What are you talking about? My mom would never do something like that!” Liam just clung to Evelyn, trembling like a frightened child. “I was always too scared to say anything,” he sobbed. “But now that Ryan’s not at the company anymore… I finally feel safe enough to tell the truth…” Evelyn’s head snapped up. Her eyes were chips of ice. I stared at her, my brow furrowed in disbelief. “You believe him?” Her gaze was venomous. “Your mother,” she said, each word a hammer blow, “knows exactly what she did.” And just like that, it was fact. In the eyes of everyone there, my mother was a predator. And I was her son. “Using charity as a cover for that? What kind of monster does that?” “And him? The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” “No wonder he was always going after Liam. He was afraid the truth would come out!” “To think someone like that was working right beside us. It’s terrifying.” The faces around me twisted into ugly masks. The accusations rained down. I shook my head, helpless. “No, you’re wrong. My mom would never…” I lunged for Liam, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him. “Tell them! Tell them the truth! My mom gave up everything for you! She went without new clothes, she worked while she was sick, just so you could go to college!” A hand shoved me back. It was Evelyn, her face a cold, hard mask of fury. “How dare you threaten him to change his story?” she snarled. “Liam is a good, honest person. Why would he ever lie about something that shames him like this? I think you’re just angry you got caught!” Right there, in front of everyone, she pulled out her phone and called the hospital. “Stop all payments for my husband’s mother’s care, effective immediately. A person like that doesn’t deserve to live.” My world collapsed. Wine glasses and pieces of cake flew through the air, pelting me. The words “predator’s son” echoed from all sides. “His mother doesn’t deserve to live, and neither does he!” “Just go die already!” Fists and palms rained down on my face. They spat on me. Someone slashed my cheek with a broken piece of a glass. Through the chaos, Evelyn started to move toward me, but Liam let out a sudden cry of pain. “My head… it hurts so much! I think… I think I see him coming for me…” Without a second thought, Evelyn had someone hoist Liam up and rush him to the hospital. The shouts and curses around me faded into a dull roar. All I could see was my mother’s face, her expression of anguish when she heard the lie. Amid the kicks and punches, I fumbled for my phone, desperately dialing the hospital. The voice on the other end was calm, clinical. “Mr. Walker, I’m very sorry for your loss. Your mother received several abusive phone calls a short while ago. Her heart gave out. She passed away moments ago.” The fight drained out of me. I went limp, letting the blows fall where they may. The voice on the phone said to “take care,” but I couldn’t shed a single tear. I don’t know how much time passed. The crowd eventually dispersed. My phone rang. It was Evelyn. “I’ve sent some money to your mother’s account. She won’t die just yet. As for the truth, we’ll let the police handle it.” Her voice was tired. “I think you’ve caused enough trouble. Stay home and think about what you’ve done. I won’t be back for three days.” “Okay,” I whispered into the phone. After hanging up, I deleted her number. I deleted everything. I went home, picked up my packed suitcase, and placed the signed divorce papers on the coffee table. I said goodbye to the home I had lived in for nearly ten years. One last stop. I picked up my mother’s ashes from the hospital and boarded a flight that night. Evelyn, this is goodbye. For good. Three days later, Evelyn came home carrying groceries and a bouquet of fresh flowers. The moment she pushed open the door, she froze.

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1 Three years ago, that ridiculous game of Truth or Dare completely derailed the lives of Blake and I. Her childhood friend suddenly proposed a cruel wager, claiming he wanted to test the authenticity of our love. The condition was that after our divorce, we wouldn’t see each other for three years. I honestly thought she’d refuse such an outrageous demand. After all, we’d argued about it countless times. Her inappropriate closeness with her childhood friend had always been a thorn in our side. But she agreed without hesitation, even confidently telling everyone that she believed I was hers for life and we’d remarry in three years. I remained silent then, knowing in my heart that it was the last chance I’d ever give her. Now, three years have passed. She stands before me, a bouquet of roses in her arms, a confident smile on her face as she calls me “honey” and says she kept her word, she’s back for our remarriage. … Blake’s lips curved into a confident, slight smirk. “Are you mad?” “Alright, alright, I’m here, aren’t I?” “Come on, don’t be mad.” Her voice was sweet, doting, assuming I was just being childish and upset for attention. Just like old times, she reached out to embrace me. I took another step back, my expression hardening. “Ms. Blake, please keep your distance!” Her hand froze in mid-air, her gentle gaze still fixed on my face. “Really mad this time, huh?” “Name your price. Whatever it takes to make it up to you, I’ll do it.” She still confidently believed that a few sweet words would win me over, just like before. As she spoke, she took another step closer. Each step she took, I mirrored, retreating further. The conquering glint in her eyes intensified. “Blake, three years is a long time. Enough to change many things.” She nodded in agreement. “Indeed.” I backed up until I hit the wall, no more room to maneuver, my back pressed against the cool plaster. She placed her hands on either side of my head, cornering me, playing that old game again. Back when we were dating, she loved to pin me against a wall like this, kissing me deeply under the moonlight. Three years ago, after losing the dare, she’d divorced me at her friend’s insistence. Three years of no contact, not a single text or call. And now, she presumes I’d just sit around, waiting for her to come back and remarry me! A cynical smile touched my lips. Before I could speak, her phone rang. She pulled it out. The screen displayed a contact: “My Little Prince.” It was her special name for Brody. I’d seen it countless times, just as I’d seen her lovingly stroke his head, saying he’d always been her “little prince” since they were kids! Completely oblivious to my feelings as her husband then. She answered immediately. “Vivi, boo hoo hoo, come quick, my stomach hurts so bad.” Brody’s whiny cry came through the phone. Blake’s eyes instantly filled with worry. “Don’t be scared, I’m coming right back.” She hung up, then quickly brushed her hand over the top of my head, as if soothing a docile cat. “I need to check on Brody first. I’ll come find you later.” Before the words fully registered, she was gone. Brody, ever the showman, flaunted their relationship on social media, as he always did. The photo showed him lying with a sweat-drenched forehead on Blake’s lap. She was gently rubbing his stomach. His caption read: “She’s always loved me most, ever since we were kids. No matter how important the event, or how important the person, if I’m not feeling well, she’s always the first to rush to my side, offering care and love. She truly is the best woman in the world!!!” I casually tapped the ‘like’ button. Not just on this one, but on every single one of his posts over the past three years. Three years, 1095 posts showing off their “love,” and I’d liked them 1095 times. He found new ways to show them off every day. For instance, he didn’t work; Blake gave him a secondary credit card to spend as he pleased. He could live in the house Blake and I once shared. My belongings, he’d use if he wanted, or toss if he didn’t. In these three years, he and Blake had done everything a couple would do. I knew he posted them specifically for me to see. Each ‘like’ was my way of showing contempt and indifference. But Brody, in his warped mind, thought I was jealous, furious, desperately trying to get attention. The next time I saw Blake, she was with Brody, drinking coffee at my café. They wore matching caramel-colored outfits. Blake, who usually favored formal business attire, was dressed in trendy, casual clothes today. I used to suggest we wear matching outfits, but she’d always say she was used to suits and didn’t want to change her style. Brody surveyed my café with a look of surprise. Blake, puzzled, asked me, “I gave you so much money, why are you doing such hard work?” When we divorced, I asked for half of our assets. She gave them without a moment’s hesitation. I stopped making the coffee, my gaze flat as I looked at her. “Because I want to. And it’s none of your business.” Blake’s expression didn’t change. She still thought I was just mad at her. Brody offered a disingenuous greeting. “Hey, Ash, long time no see. How’s it going?” “Good.” Brody seemed surprised by my calm. Blake’s phone rang, and she turned to step outside to take the call. With just Brody and me left, his pretense dropped. His smile transformed into a triumphant sneer of provocation. “Don’t play hard to get. But don’t get too happy either.” He looked down on me, a slight chuckle on his lips. “Even if you remarry Vivi this time, what good will it do?!” “Her mother doesn’t like you. Her ideal son-in-law has always been me.” “Vivi only wants to remarry you out of a sense of obligation.” “Even this remarriage, she sought my approval first.” “And you’ll have to sign a prenuptial agreement.” “Oh, and I personally drafted that agreement.” He pulled a prenuptial agreement from his bag and placed it in front of me. I glanced at it dismissively. One clause stated that all of the Blake family’s assets were none of my concern. After marriage, I wasn’t allowed to call Blake’s mother “Mom,” only “Madam.” In public, I couldn’t claim to be the patriarch of the Blake family; I had to declare myself merely her ex-husband. These outrageous terms made me laugh sardonically. I pushed the agreement back to him. “If Blake’s mother likes you so much, why are you still without a title?” “Three years, and Blake still hasn’t committed to you. How pathetic.” Brody, furious and embarrassed, instinctively raised his hand to slap me. But just then, Blake’s approaching footsteps sounded behind him. He changed his expression faster than flipping a page, tears welling up, a mix of aggrieved and understanding. “Ash, I truly hope you can remarry Vivi.” “As her childhood friend, I just want her to be happy.” “This prenuptial agreement is just a formality. Don’t be mad, okay?” He was still as dramatic as he was three years ago. The moment Blake saw him cry, her mind would turn to mush, unable to distinguish right from wrong. “Brody, what’s wrong?” Blake pulled him closer, her eyes filled with concern for him. Brody shook his head, feigning a wronged expression. “Nothing, it’s my fault. Don’t blame Ash.” The more he spoke like this, the more Blake believed I’d bullied him. “Ash!” she snapped, her face cold. “Apologize!” Her tone was an undeniable command, like ordering a servant. A cold laugh touched my lips. She frowned in displeasure and chastised me. “Brody and I grew up together, he’s like a brother to me!” “He’s a very important person to me. Can you please stop being so hostile towards him every time!” “Even if it’s for my sake, can you be kinder to him, please?!” My face remained expressionless. I’d seen this scene countless times over the past three years. I was utterly sick of it! Just as I was about to ask them to leave, my phone on the counter vibrated with a video call. The screen displayed: “My Sweetheart Daughter.” I quickly grabbed the phone, and my two-year-old daughter’s adorable face appeared in the video. “Daddy, I miss you.” I quickly exchanged a few words with her. As Blake reached for my phone to talk to my daughter, I ended the call. “What daughter?! Ash, you have a daughter?!” Blake’s eyes widened. She reached for my phone again, but I dodged her. My face was cold as I spoke to her seriously once more. “Don’t bother me. You two are twisted, crazy people!” She didn’t get angry; instead, she just indulged her self-serving belief. “Alright, don’t be mad.” “I know you’re doing this to annoy me. That call was on purpose, wasn’t it?” I instantly understood that a person as self-absorbed as her wouldn’t believe I no longer loved her until she saw my wife with her own eyes. Suddenly, she spoke to me. “Mom’s birthday is in a few days.” “Your cooking is excellent. Prepare some of her favorite dishes.” “Use this opportunity to mend your relationship with her.” So, she knew. During our three years of marriage, I had been bullied by her mother for three years. Blake’s mother looked down on me, someone from a humble background. Even though I was Blake’s legal husband, Blake’s mother never allowed me to attend any Blake family dinners. In fact, if she was present, I wasn’t allowed to sit at the table. I didn’t like her either. Our relationship was precarious, a mutual state of ignoring each other. In that dynamic, Blake had always remained silent. A mocking curve touched my lips. I deliberately asked, “Blake, just hypothetically.” “What if I cooked a feast, and your mother still wouldn’t let me sit at the table?” She hesitated before replying, “You’re the junior, just say a few nice words to butter her up.” “You know how my mom is. All bark, no bite.” Brody deliberately suggested, “Ash, it’s not beneath a junior to beg an elder. Madam is most susceptible to being begged on her knees.” He was being sarcastic, implying I should kneel. I chuckled derisively, my eyes fixed on Blake’s dark ones, my voice serious and earnest. “Blake, three years. Things have long changed.” “I’m married, and I have a child.” Then, I turned to Brody. “Perhaps you should do more begging. You might just get into the Blake family.” Brody burst into tears, feigning distress. “It’s my fault for speaking out of turn.” He covered his mouth and ran out. Blake’s face suddenly turned ugly. She snapped at me, “How much longer are you going to be stubborn?!” Then she rushed out to chase Brody. My phone vibrated. It was a text from my wife: “Honey, project finished. Home tomorrow afternoon.” I breathed a sigh of relief. I thought, once Blake saw Eleanor herself, she wouldn’t be so self-absorbed about me anymore. The next day, as soon as I arrived at the café, the preschool teacher suddenly called. She said my daughter had been taken by someone claiming to be her biological mother and godfather. My heart leaped into my throat. I raced to the Blake family estate. There, I saw Brody had put my daughter in a dog kennel, playing with dogs and cats. My daughter was allergic to animal fur. She couldn’t touch either dogs or cats. My daughter was crying uncontrollably, her face flushed to her neck. Red allergy spots were already appearing on her neck. Brody ignored my daughter’s distress. Instead, he pushed the cat towards my daughter’s arms. “Don’t be scared, Annie. This cat is three years old, so she’s like your big sister.” “She’s your godfather’s favorite cat. Give her a hug, don’t be rude. Crying so loudly will scare the kitty.” My daughter raised her hands in fear, trying to avoid it. The black cat’s sharp claws scratched several marks on my daughter’s face. My daughter cried even louder. Brody said gently, “You’ve scared the cat,” but his eyes held a threatening glint as he glared at my daughter. “Who told you to touch my daughter?!” I charged forward, enraged. I was just about to reach for my daughter when Blake suddenly appeared, wrapping her arms around me from behind, pulling me back a few steps. “Brody was just being kind, trying to give her more playmates.” “Ash, you adopted this child, didn’t you? It must be hard raising her alone.” My eyes were bloodshot with fury. I spun around and slapped her. A clear handprint bloomed on her face, which was already on the verge of “cracking.” “My daughter is allergic to cat and dog fur!” “Her playmates are never animals!” I turned again to pick up my daughter, but Blake grabbed my wrist with a firm grip. Brody wore a pitifully innocent expression as he looked at me. “It’s my cat’s third birthday today. She really likes playing with kids.” “I just thought, with Annie coming back to the Blake family, they should get acquainted first.” As he spoke, his black cat clawed wildly at my daughter. It left crisscrossing scratch marks on my daughter’s arms, neck, and face. He deliberately added, “Don’t worry, my cats and dogs are regularly vaccinated. They’re very clean.” “I even sleep with my cat every day.” Seeing my daughter’s face, crying so hard she was almost gasping for breath, my heart raced with anxiety. I struggled against Blake’s grip. She held me tighter, soothingly. “Children shouldn’t be raised too delicately.” “The Blake family fortune will be hers someday. We need to build her courage, she shouldn’t be afraid of a mere cat.” Suddenly, my daughter’s eyes closed, and she collapsed. I screamed in panic, “She’s going into anaphylactic shock!” Blake finally realized the seriousness of the situation. I rushed over, picked up my daughter, and ran to the hospital. Blake and Brody followed. While my daughter was being treated in the emergency room, the doctor handed me a consent form for risks. “Please, the child’s father or mother needs to sign this.” Blake eagerly spoke up. “I’m the child’s mother. I’ll sign it!” As she reached for the consent form, a commanding voice echoed from behind. “Since when was my daughter your daughter?!”

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I once believed the five years Victor gave me were a testament to true love. He laid the best of the world at my feet. It wasn’t until I was holding the positive pregnancy test, bursting with joy and ready to surprise him, that I stumbled upon the truth. Everything he had done, every grand gesture, was a calculated move to help his sister steal the man I truly loved. When I confronted him, Victor offered me two choices, as if tossing scraps to a beggar: take ten million dollars and disappear forever, or pretend nothing had happened and continue to bask in the warmth of his “love.” Everyone thought I would choose the latter. After all, I had loved him so deeply. But without a moment’s hesitation, I chose the money. That’s when Victor truly panicked. He grabbed my hand, his voice cracking as he pleaded, “Zoe, why can’t you just love me one more time?” I pulled my hand away and told him, my voice calm and steady, “Victor, I don’t want you anymore. This time, I’m choosing to love myself.” 1 For thirty consecutive days, Victor had sent me extravagant, one-of-a-kind gifts. Today, he burst through the door covered in blood, cradling a single, delicate flower in his hands. I recognized it. It was the same type of flower that had been the only splash of color in our bleak world that winter we lived under a bridge. “Zoe, the flower, it bloomed again! I brought it back for you!” His face was alight with a desperate hope, as if this single blossom could erase all the darkness between us. I watched him, my expression a mask of ice. The light in his eyes slowly died. Without a word, he forced a smile, found a vase, and placed the flower on the windowsill where I often sat. I wanted to tell him that his smile was more painful to look at than any tears. Two of his bodyguards rushed in after him, their faces etched with anxiety. “Mr. Augustine, you’re injured! You need to go to the hospital, now!” A drop of blood trickled from his forehead and landed on a pristine white petal. “Zoe, I’ll wipe it off,” he said, his voice frantic. His hands were smeared with blood. I remembered that winter, how he had tried to pick one of those flowers for me then, too. He’d scratched his hands and twisted his ankle in the process. I had thought those were scars of our love. Now I knew they were just part of the act, another scene in the play designed to win my devotion. My gaze was cold. The crimson on the white petal was jarring. “Don’t bother,” I said. “Once it’s stained, it’s stained.” I turned to my housekeeper. “Mrs. Gable, throw it out.” Victor’s hand froze mid-air. His face went white as he watched Mrs. Gable take the vase and toss the flower out the window. He wanted to stop her, but he was powerless. He turned back to me, that painful smile returning. “Zoe, I’ll… I’ll come back tomorrow?” It was a placating question, an attempt to pretend this horror wasn’t happening, just as he had always done after hurting me. The once-dashing tycoon, now covered in mud and blood, looked pathetic. I sighed, the words spilling out before I could stop them. “Victor, don’t come back. I never want to see you again.” He stumbled, as if every ounce of strength had been drained from his body. But his guards caught him, and he managed to straighten up, that awful smile still plastered on his face. “You must be tired, Zoe. Get some rest.” Then, as if fearing another rejection, he practically fled. Mrs. Gable looked from his retreating back to me, then went outside and retrieved the flower, placing it back on the windowsill. “I don’t know what happened between you two,” she said, her tone reproachful, “but I can see that Mr. Augustine is truly sorry. He really loves you. Can’t you find it in your heart to forgive him?” I looked at her, my smile full of a weary sadness. “But, Mrs. Gable,” I whispered, “I don’t have the chance to forgive him anymore.” That very morning, I had lost my sense of taste completely. 2 Five years ago, two men stood before me, and I chose Victor. We were together for five years. At our lowest, we lived under a bridge, scavenged for food, and slept under the open sky. I was with him through poverty and despair, all the way to his triumphant return, when he reclaimed his family’s empire. For those five years, he would have given me the stars from the sky and the moon from the water. He made his devotion to me a public spectacle, a love so grand it overshadowed even the affection he had for his precious sister, Amelia. I believed it was real. Until… The day I found out I was pregnant. I rushed to find him, the test results clutched in my hand, ready to share the joyful surprise. But I found him with Amelia wrapped in his arms. “Victor,” she was saying, “Noah finally proposed! Thank you. If you hadn’t sacrificed yourself to win over Zoe, I might have waited forever for this day!” Victor stroked her hair, his smile gentle. “As long as you’re happy, my sacrifice was worth it.” A lightning bolt struck, and all the strength drained out of me. The pregnancy test slipped from my fingers, but I felt nothing. [Host, you have failed.] Years ago, I had gone against the System’s warnings and changed my mission target to him. The System had been clear: [He is not your destined one. Failure to complete the mission will result in your annihilation.] I had traversed many worlds, completed many missions. This was the first time I had ever let personal feelings interfere. “I want to make a choice for myself, just once,” I had told the System. I lost. I accept that. But… I laid a hand on my flat stomach. A new life was growing there, a life I had yearned for. “Can’t you…” [No! You know the rules!] I laughed, covering my eyes as hot tears streamed through my fingers. 3 In the private room, everyone was celebrating Amelia’s engagement and Victor’s “liberation.” “Vic, once Amelia marries into the Sterling family, Zoe will be useless. What are you going to do with her?” “Hey, how about you give her to me? I’m not ambitious. I just want a taste of the woman who could captivate Noah Sterling and keep you entertained for five years…” “Get lost!” Laughter filled the room. My tears had run dry. I looked at the people inside and pushed the door open. The room fell silent. When they saw it was me, strange, knowing smiles spread across their faces. I’d seen those smiles before, but only now did I understand their true meaning. It was the look of the wealthy elite observing a plaything they had tired of. Victor’s hand, holding a glass of wine, paused. He looked at me, his eyes devoid of emotion. “You heard?” “Yes.” “How much?” “Everything.” A brief, tense silence. Everyone looked at Victor, waiting to see how he would dispose of his “plaything.” He set his glass down, his voice cold and unfamiliar. “Two choices. One, take ten million dollars and disappear. Never show your face in front of Noah Sterling again. We go our separate ways.” “Or two…” He paused, walking over to me. He gently stroked my hair, the coldness in his eyes replaced by a deep, seductive affection. “You can choose to stay with me. We’ll pretend this never happened. I’ll continue to be good to you.” The same old tenderness, as if nothing had changed. Amelia couldn’t help but let out a sneer. “Zoe, you really are pathetic.” Everyone, including Victor, probably thought I would choose the second option. After all, I had loved him so much. I had stayed with him when he had nothing, living under a bridge for six months, surviving on instant noodles for three, ruining my health to the point that getting pregnant was a miracle. I looked at the man I had loved with all my heart for five years and managed a faint smile. I took a step back, out of the warmth of his hand, away from the embrace I had once craved. “I choose option one.” 4 The answer stunned everyone. Victor’s face changed, his hand freezing in mid-air before slowly clenching into a fist. By the time he tucked it into his pocket, his expression was once again cool and detached. I suppose it didn’t really matter to him. One plaything gone, another could be found. He was a prince, after all, his pride untouchable. “Since it’s your choice, I respect it.” I walked out of that room like a zombie. … Back at the villa, I began to put my affairs in order. That evening, Victor arrived with his friends to move his things out. “This villa was bought for you,” he said, his voice flat. “It’s yours.” I didn’t look up, just grunted in acknowledgment. He stood there for a long moment, waiting for a reaction. When he got none, he stormed upstairs, the sounds of him packing echoing through the house like angry thunder. I ignored it. I was busy writing, trying to jot everything down before my memory failed me completely. Mrs. Gable had taken care of this house for years. She was getting older and had arthritis. I would leave most of the cash to her, hoping she could live out her remaining years in comfort. My neighbor, a woman starting her own business, needed designer clothes and bags to make a good impression. She had borrowed from me before, always returning them with a small gift, her face flushed with a mixture of gratitude and embarrassment. I understood her struggle. I had been there, too. Victor had bought me countless designer items over the years, most of which I’d never even used. They would all go to her. The jewelry, I decided, would be donated to charity. I doubted Victor would object. My biggest worry was Pip. He was a stray dog we’d adopted during our time under the bridge. A scruffy mutt of indeterminate heritage, with a perpetually messy coat, a bad temper, and a comical underbite. If I was gone, what would happen to him? Who would tolerate his moods, who would love him despite his scruffy appearance? Pip and Victor had been close. I considered leaving him with Victor, but Amelia despised him. She only liked purebred show dogs and would openly kick Pip away if he got too close, even in front of me. If I were gone, all it would take was a word from her, and Victor would probably abandon him. Pip was old. How long would he survive on the streets? I stroked the fur of the dog curled at my feet. “Maybe you should come with me, Pip? At least you wouldn’t have to suffer anymore…” For a moment, I understood the mothers in the news who took their own lives and their children’s with them. I quickly pushed the horrifying thought away. I would ask my friends at the dog park. Surely one of them would take him. Lastly, I signed an organ donation form. In the end, I would leave nothing of myself behind in this world.

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1 The day my grandson was admitted, I jolted awake—back before it all fell apart. My daughter-in-law, Evelyn, died in the line of duty when Toby was just one. My son, Daniel, and I raised him. He was our whole world. Just before the holiday, I’d arranged for a specialist to do Toby’s surgery. I personally handed the doctor ninety-nine thousand dollars. But that night, Daniel’s voice thundered over the phone: “Dad! Toby’s surgery is tomorrow—why haven’t you paid?!” I didn’t question how the money disappeared. I just wired it again. The next day, the hospital still claimed they hadn’t received payment and were canceling the surgery. Sweating, I pulled the doctor to the billing office. The clerk showed my balance: zero. The specialist scowled. “If you don’t want the surgery, just say so. Don’t waste my time.” Terrified of delaying Toby’s care, I withdrew cash that evening and delivered it myself. But it was too late. The next day, my grandson died because his surgery was postponed. Daniel clutched Toby’s cold little body, sobbing, “Dad, did you hate him that much?” That night, my son set a fire and burned us all alive. Even as the flames took me, I still didn’t understand why the hospital never got my money. … “Grandpa, will the surgery hurt?” A gentle touch on my leg brought me back. I looked down at my grandson’s pale little face and pulled him into a hug, hot tears streaming down my cheeks. He was so small. How could he have died on that cold hospital bed? My mind raced. Why did the money I gave the hospital vanish into thin air? I had checked the card myself. With that thought, I grabbed my son and marched him to the nearest ATM. I confirmed the card held over $100,000 for the treatment. Only then did I feel a sliver of relief. Together, we went to the billing office and handed the card to the clerk on duty. “We’ve paid the fee,” I said, my voice trembling with hope. “Does this mean he can have the surgery tomorrow?” I watched with my own eyes as the clerk processed the payment. A wave of relief washed over me. “Thank God. My grandson is going to be okay.” Daniel wrapped his arms around me. “Dad, thank goodness you’re here.” Toby had a rare disease, and our only hope was a consulting surgeon from Chicago. She was a kind woman who refused any extra payment, only urging me to settle the hospital fees quickly. I just never understood why, in my past life, there was never any record of my payment, letting my grandson’s life slip away. This time, I wouldn’t let history repeat itself. I sent Daniel home to rest and stayed at the hospital by Toby’s side. The next morning, I woke to my phone ringing. It was Daniel, his voice frantic. “Dad, there’s no money on your card! The hospital just called and said I need to pay immediately. If we don’t pay soon, they’re going to cancel his spot!” For a moment, I thought I was mishearing him, trapped in a nightmare. How could the same thing be happening all over again? Before I could hang up, a doctor walked into the room. “You need to go pay the fee now, or it will be too late for the surgery.” I didn’t have time to think. I bolted for the billing office. But when the clerk pulled up my account, the balance was zero. Impossible. Daniel and I had just checked it yesterday! I made the clerk print out the account statement, checking it word by word. It was correct. There was just no money. “There’s something shady going on in this hospital!” I yelled, slamming my hand on the counter. “The card I gave you yesterday was loaded! Give me back my money! That’s my grandson’s lifeline!” The other families in line turned to stare. The clerk’s face flushed with anger. “Don’t make wild accusations, sir. Our system is monitored. We couldn’t take a cent of your money if we wanted to! Look for yourself, you haven’t paid a single bill since you were admitted. We were being generous just letting you stay!” He gestured to the line behind me. “There are other people waiting. Can you please not cause a scene?” The other families, assuming I was harassing the clerk, started to shove me away. I was an old man; I couldn’t argue with a crowd. They pushed me out, and I stood there helplessly, my mind a complete blank. The clerk sighed and led me back to his office. He opened the main system. “Sir, look for yourself. It shows no payment has been made.” “I came here yesterday afternoon,” I pleaded, shaking my head. “Check the security footage. I was really here, with my son. We even checked the balance at the ATM first.” He reluctantly submitted a request to his supervisor. The logs confirmed that I had indeed come to the billing office. But the cameras had a blind spot; they couldn’t confirm if the card I’d handed over was the same one we’d checked at the ATM. I wouldn’t give up. The clerk’s patience wore thin. “Sir, if you’re still concerned, you should call the police.” That’s what I was thinking. The police could see details others missed. But before I could dial, Daniel’s call came through. “Dad, you’ve ruined everything,” he choked out. “The surgeon just booked a flight back to Chicago. It leaves in two hours. My son’s surgery is off!” I ran like a madman to the inpatient wing and caught the surgeon just as she was getting into the elevator. She was pulling a suitcase, a look of annoyance on her face. “Sir, it’s not that I don’t want to save your grandson, but the hospital says you haven’t paid. I can’t very well fund the surgery myself, can I?” I grabbed the handle of her suitcase, tears streaming down my face. “Doctor, please, give us one more chance. I’ll pay right now. I’ll do a direct transfer this time, so there’s a record!” She hesitated, glancing at her watch. “My flight boards in an hour and a half. If you can get it done before then, I’ll cancel my ticket.” I thanked her profusely and sprinted back towards the billing office, calling my son on the way. “Daniel, send me your account number! I’ll transfer the money to you directly, and you go pay!” His voice trembled. “Dad, isn’t your card empty?” “It’s not! The hospital’s system is messed up. I’m sending you the money now. The second you get it, go to the billing office. I’m heading there too.” I hung up, opened my banking app, and transferred the last of my savings—over eighty thousand dollars—plus another twenty I’d borrowed from relatives. I sent the full one hundred thousand to Daniel’s account. I took a screenshot and saved it. Panting, I reached the billing office and slapped the counter. “My son is coming to pay right now! Please, hold my grandson’s spot for the surgery!” The clerk looked up. It was the same one from yesterday. He sighed. “Sir, there really is no money in your account. Our system…” “I know, I know! We’re not using that account. My son is paying with his card directly.” Just then, my phone rang. It was Daniel. “Dad, how much did you send?” “One hundred thousand exactly. Did you get it?” He checked his phone. “Got it!” he said, a wave of relief in his voice. “I’m on my way to pay now!” The clerk looked relieved too. “Then have him hurry over.” Ten minutes later, Daniel arrived. I urged him to the counter. The clerk took the card, inserted it into the machine, and immediately pulled it out. “There are no funds on this card. Try another one.” Daniel froze, then shot me a furious glare. “Dad, when are you going to stop this nonsense? You said you transferred the money, but you were just lying to me again!” “But you just said you received it…” I stammered. “That was the pension payment for Evelyn’s fallen colleague!” he roared. “It wasn’t your money at all!” He shoved me aside and stormed back toward the ward. “Your system has to be the problem!” I yelled, grabbing the clerk. “You saw me transfer the money to my son! How can the card be empty the moment you touch it?” The clerk stood up, his face cold. “Sir, if you continue to cause a disturbance, I will call the police.” “Go ahead! Let the police see how your hospital steals a patient’s life savings!” The police arrived quickly. They calmed me down, then logged into the system and contacted the bank to verify my transaction history. The truth came out swiftly. “Sir, you’re mistaken,” the officer said gently. “Your account has no recent transfer records. Your behavior constitutes a public disturbance, but considering your age and the circumstances, the hospital has agreed not to press charges. Please, just focus on getting the money for the surgery.” I collapsed. How could this be happening? Where did my money go? Daniel, hearing the commotion, rushed back, his face a mask of fury. “Dad, can you just stop?! My son is sick, I can barely eat or sleep, and you’re making these scenes! If I hadn’t donated all my savings, I wouldn’t need you to pay for this! If you keep this up, you can stop being my father!” I grabbed his arm desperately. “I’m not making a scene! I really did transfer the money! Son, when have I ever lied to you?” He hesitated for a second, but his anger quickly returned. “Should I believe you, or should I believe the system? You know what, ever since Mom died, you’ve gotten stranger and stranger. I’ll figure this out myself. I don’t need you.” He was the child I had cherished my entire life. His words, “I don’t need you,” shattered me. I grabbed him and pulled him towards the exit. “Cash! Son, we’ll get cash and pay. There can’t be any problems then!” I dragged him into the bank. He was fuming, but he followed me to the counter. I slapped my passbook on the counter. “I need to withdraw one hundred thousand dollars. All of it. In cash.” This was my retirement account. It was the last of my money. The teller looked at me, typed a few things into her computer, and confirmed, “Sir, your account balance is $100,370. You’d like to withdraw an even one hundred thousand?” I nodded, my fingers digging into the edge of the counter. She counted the bills, bundled them, and placed a thick stack of currency in the tray. “Please count it, sir.” I didn’t. I pushed it toward my son. “You count it.” He stared for a moment, then counted it, bundle by bundle. “$100,000. It’s all here.” I stuffed the money into a canvas bag, clutched it to my chest, and ran with him back to the hospital. It was the same clerk at the billing office. I put the bag on the counter and pulled out the stacks of cash. “One hundred thousand dollars. Cash. You see it? Now give me a receipt. My grandson’s surgery cannot be delayed again.” The clerk looked at me, then at the money. He ran a few stacks through the bill counter. Everything checked out. He nodded, typed into his computer, and handed me a thin payment voucher. “Alright, it’s paid. I’ll make a note on the surgical schedule. Just wait for the notification.” I held that flimsy piece of paper, my hands shaking. I turned and threw my arms around my son, the tears finally coming. “Daniel, look! It’s paid! Toby is saved!” Daniel cried too, holding me tight. That night, I stayed by Toby’s bedside, not daring to leave for a second. He slept soundly, his little hand wrapped around my finger. Seeing him like that, I saw a vision of Daniel as a child, so small, clinging to my hand when he had a fever, refusing to let me go. If Toby could just get through this, he would grow up strong, just like his father. My heart filled with hope. I didn’t sleep a wink. I stared at the clock on my phone, praying for morning, for the nurse to come with the surgery time. Just as the sky began to lighten, I heard footsteps in the hall. Thinking it was the nurse, I jumped to my feet. The door opened. It was Daniel. His face was as white as a sheet, his eyes red and swollen. He was clutching his phone, looking completely hollowed out. “Dad.” My heart seized. “When is the surgery?” He didn’t answer. He just handed me his phone. On the screen was a text message from the hospital: 【Dear patient family, your surgical fees have not yet been paid. Please proceed to the billing office as soon as possible to avoid treatment delays.】 I stared in disbelief. “That’s impossible! I paid $100,000 in cash yesterday! They gave me a receipt!” Daniel angrily pulled the hospital payment card from his bag and threw it at me. “I checked this morning! There’s not a single cent in the account! This is your fault! You told me to deposit the money into this account! Why didn’t you tell me there was a problem with it? Why did you have to risk Toby’s surgery?” The phone buzzed. A message from the surgeon: 【Sir, I’m sorry, I can’t wait any longer. The surgery is canceled. I wish your son a speedy recovery.】 Down the hall, I heard the sound of a suitcase rolling away, growing fainter and fainter. Daniel sank to the floor, covered his face, and let out a strangled sob. “Dad, if Toby… if he doesn’t make it because of this… I will never, ever forgive you! I hate you!” I stood frozen, a chill spreading through my entire body. His words were knives, but I didn’t have time for the pain. I immediately called the surgeon. “Doctor, please, just one more chance. I’ll sell my house. I’ll have the money then. I swear I’ll pay the fee.” There was a pause on the other end. “Sir, do you know how many times I’ve rescheduled my flight? Four times. I have other patients to save. This back and forth… are you truly serious about getting your child treatment, or…?” She didn’t finish, but her meaning was clear. “I swear, Doctor,” I begged. “This time it’s real. I’m going to sell the house right now. Just give me one more day. Just one.” A sigh. “Alright. One last day.” I didn’t have time to grieve. After promising Daniel I’d fix it, I rushed to the police station. But after reviewing everything, they found nothing wrong. By the time I left, it was dark. I thought of the relatives I’d borrowed from and started calling. “Arthur, I heard what happened. You need to take care of that boy, stop making up these wild stories.” “Your son told me everything. You knew you had no money, but you insisted the hospital stole it and even got the police involved. Arthur, are you getting senile?” “Let me give you some advice. Be good to that child. Otherwise, you’ll end up old and alone with no one to even bury you.” Every single one of them refused me. I squatted on the sidewalk and cried for a long time. When I stood up, the world tilted. I almost collapsed. Late that night, I finally made it back to my small rental apartment. Daniel and Toby lived in the small house I’d bought for them, the down payment made with my life’s savings, the deed in my son’s name. As dawn broke, an idea came to me. I washed my face and went back to the hospital. Daniel was sitting by the bed, staring at me. His eyes were lifeless, as if he’d been completely hollowed out. I didn’t notice. I was too consumed by my plan. “Daniel, I have an idea.” He looked up, no light in his eyes. “We can take out a mortgage on your house,” I said, the words tumbling out. “We’ll pay it back as soon as I get my money back.” “It’s no use…” he mumbled. “What are you talking about? If we just try one more time, we can save Toby!” I insisted. “Go, don’t waste any more time. I already told the surgeon to wait one more day.” He remained motionless. Seeing his despair, I felt a surge of frustration and threw the property deed at him. “Stop moping and go!” He mechanically opened the deed. After one glance, he ripped it in half and threw it back at me. “Dad, how many years have you been lying to me?” I was stunned. “What’s wrong?” “This house! The name on the deed isn’t mine! And it’s not yours either! Dad, you told me you bought this for me with your life savings! The deed is a fake! What else have you been hiding from me?” His voice grew louder, drawing nurses and other patients. “You wanted me to mortgage it? Were you trying to humiliate me? Did you ever even want to save Toby?” “No, Daniel, I swear I didn’t know…” “Enough!” He buried his face in his hands, his whole body shaking with sobs. “It doesn’t matter now! Nothing matters!” Before I could react, he yanked the blanket off Toby. “He’s gone! He couldn’t wait for your money anymore! Dad, just go. I don’t ever want to see you again. You’ve never told me the truth about anything. If it weren’t for you, my son wouldn’t have had to die!” I collapsed to the floor. How? How could he still be dead after I’d been given a second chance? Something was wrong, terribly wrong. Daniel was completely broken. He lunged for the window. “Toby’s gone, I don’t want to live anymore!” In that split second, a memory flashed in my mind, so sharp it was like a physical blow. “Stop! I know where the money went!”

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A two-week trip to the Caribbean had been just what I needed, the endless blue of the sea and sky slowly mending the fractures in my soul. Then the text message came, shattering the peace. It was from her. Her tone was a familiar blend of urgency and unquestionable entitlement. “My mom needs surgery. You’ve got savings, right? Get over here and pay for it.” Her words were a needle, instantly puncturing the fragile calm I’d carefully rebuilt. I stared out at the turquoise water, my fingers slowly tapping out a reply. “For something like that, you should probably ask your new husband.” My mind drifted back two weeks, to the moment I’d found the marriage certificate in her purse. The document felt like a brand against my skin. The man in the photo beside her was grinning, a dazzling, triumphant smile. And I, her boyfriend of five years, suddenly felt like a complete and utter fool. I didn’t shed a tear. I didn’t scream or demand an explanation. I just quietly zipped her purse shut, pretending I’d seen nothing. The next day, without a second thought, I booked a flight to the Caribbean, turned off my phone, and vanished from her world. 1 After sending the text, I immediately dragged Ava’s number into my block list. The screen went blessedly silent. I placed my phone face down on the arm of the deck chair, severing all ties to that other world. The salty air, thick with the unique humidity of the tropics, washed over my face. In the distance, the azure sea churned with white-capped waves, stretching to the horizon. But my world had been cleaved in two by that small, official document. The phone vibrated against the armrest, a persistent buzz against my fingertips. I didn’t need to look. I knew it was her. When her calls wouldn’t go through, she resorted to a barrage of texts. The first was a question. “Nathan, what the hell? Did you block me?” The second was pure rage. “Don’t you forget how my mom treated you! She’s lying in a hospital bed while you’re off living it up. Do you have a conscience?” The third was softer, tinged with a flicker of panic. “Nate, please, stop messing around. My mom really needs this money. I’m begging you.” I picked up the phone. The screen’s glare stung my eyes as I read the messages, and five years of memories flooded back, threatening to drown me. I remembered when we first graduated, crammed into a tiny studio apartment in the worst part of town. I’d used my first paycheck to buy her a suit for an interview. She’d hugged me so tight, her eyes shining like stars, and promised that one day she’d get me the house of my dreams. We did eventually move into a new place—a three-bedroom condo in a great neighborhood. The down payment was $200,000. I put in my entire life savings, $150,000 earned over three years of grinding. Her family scraped together the other $50,000. Both our names were on the deed. This is our home, she’d said. But that home was now the marital home she shared with another man. I remembered paying for her sister’s college tuition and living expenses. Her dad would always praise me on the phone, saying their family was blessed to have a son-in-law like me. Now, those words felt like a series of sharp slaps across my face. I wasn’t their son-in-law. I was a tool, a workhorse dutifully pumping money into their family. A convenient partner. A fool who was bankrolling their family’s financial security. A gaping hole opened in my chest, and a cold wind howled through it. I took a deep breath and called my best friend, Zack. He picked up on the first ring. “Nate, my man! The financial wizard finally decides to rejoin the living! I was starting to think some island beauty had kidnapped you.” My voice was calm, so calm it felt alien. “Zack… Ava got married.” The other end of the line went dead silent. For a full thirty seconds, there was nothing. Then Zack’s roar nearly shattered my eardrum. “She what? Who the hell did that snake marry? What about you? What the hell happened?” “The groom wasn’t me.” I gave him the short version, from finding the certificate to her text demanding surgery money. Zack exploded, a torrent of curses that would make a sailor blush. “That monster! That goddamn leech! She sucks you dry for five years, and now she wants you to pay her mom’s medical bills? The absolute nerve!” “Nathan, I’m serious, you get on the next flight back here. I’ll get some guys, and we’ll go down to that hospital and unplug her mom’s damn oxygen!” His fiery rant actually helped. The suffocating weight on my chest seemed to lift a little. “Easy, man,” I said, my own voice steady. “I’m not going to let this go.” “So what’s the plan? Don’t you dare go soft on me. Any kindness to a person like that is just cruelty to yourself.” I watched the setting sun paint the sea gold, and my gaze turned to ice. “Don’t worry. I’m not a fool.” “Five years isn’t something you can just erase with a few words.” After hanging up, I went back to my hotel room and took out my laptop. I opened an encrypted Excel file. The title read: “Shared Living Expenses.” It was a professional habit, a meticulous record of every major expenditure. Every single dollar I had spent on Ava and her family over five years was logged here, clear as day. The mortgage payments, of which I paid two-thirds. Her sister’s tuition, $15,000 a year. The $20,000 I gave them to renovate their parents’ house. Gifts and cash for holidays and birthdays, totaling over $30,000 in five years. And then there were the countless daily expenses, a dense, endless list that filled the entire screen. I calmly typed a final line at the bottom of the spreadsheet. “Grand Total: $285,750.00.” The number burned my eyes, sharp and painful. So that was what my love was worth. No. It was worthless. I closed the laptop and walked out onto the balcony. The sea breeze whipped through my hair. It was time. Time for a final, ruthless accounting of a love that was now dead. Ava’s text-bombing stopped after I blocked her. I figured she assumed I was just throwing a tantrum and that, once I cooled down, I’d come crawling back like always, ready to clean up her mess. She was so used to me giving, she saw it not as a gift, but as her due. She had miscalculated badly. The next morning, just after a refreshing dive, a call came through from an unknown number. The area code was from my city. I answered but said nothing. A familiar, sharp voice, laced with a pathetic whimper, came through the line. “Nate, son, it’s me.” It was Ava’s father. His voice sounded weary and wronged, as if he were the most injured party in the world. “What’s wrong with you, boy? We couldn’t reach you. Didn’t you know Ava’s mother is sick? How can you be so heartless?” He launched straight into accusations, not even bothering to ask why I hadn’t answered. He’d already found me guilty. I could picture him perfectly, putting on his best “I’m so disappointed in you” face, ready to pass moral judgment. I’d heard it a thousand times over the last five years. “Nate, Ava has a demanding job, you need to be more supportive.” “Nate, the family is counting on you.” “Nate, our Ava is so lucky to have found you.” It all sounded like a sick joke now. I didn’t get angry. I just held the phone, listening to his award-worthy performance. “Did you and Ava have a fight? There’s nothing a young couple can’t talk through. What’s this nonsense about running away from home? Do you have any idea how worried she is?” “Her mother is lying in a hospital waiting for money for an operation, and you’re off on vacation.” “You get yourself back here right now and pay that bill. Whatever the problem is, I’ll sort it out for you.” Every word was a poison-tipped dart, aimed at a place in my heart that used to be soft. Now, it was plated in steel. I waited until he had vented, until he had run out of steam, before I spoke. My voice was soft, but every word was crystal clear. “Sir, are you aware that Ava is married?” His tirade stopped cold, as if he’d been choked. I could hear his sharp intake of breath, followed by a dead, ringing silence. I didn’t give him time to recover. I continued, my pace steady and deliberate. “And her husband isn’t me.” That sentence was a bomb, and it detonated on the other end of the line. After a long moment, her father found his voice. It was dry and shrill. “What… What nonsense are you spouting? Which little tramp has been whispering lies in your ear?” He didn’t believe it. Or rather, he refused to. His first instinct wasn’t to question his daughter, but to attack me, the messenger. Pathetic. “You can ask your perfect daughter if I’m lying.” “I saw the marriage certificate with my own eyes. The guy in the photo is a lot better looking than me, too.” “Right now, your concern shouldn’t be whether an outsider like me is coming back to pay her bills.” “It should be whether your brand-new son-in-law is willing to foot the bill for his new family.” I finished and, without giving him another chance to speak, hung up. The dark screen reflected my emotionless face. I could only imagine his shock and rage. He would call Ava immediately. A storm was about to break within their family. And all I had to do was sit here, enjoy the sea breeze, and watch the show. Ava, this is just the beginning. You owe me. And I’m going to collect every single cent, with interest. My dignity and my money. I’m taking it all back. A friend request from a “Marcus Thorne” popped up on my social media the next afternoon. The profile picture was a guy in a flashy suit at what looked like a black-tie gala. I accepted. A message came through instantly. “Nathan? My name is Marcus Thorne.” Polite. Formal. As if we were strangers. I didn’t reply, just watched the screen. My silence didn’t seem to bother him. A second message appeared. “I know it’s presumptuous of me to contact you, but I wanted to apologize for the situation with Ava.” Apologize? That was a new one. Did he think stealing someone’s fiancée could be smoothed over with a two-word apology? “Ava told me everything. She said she tried to break up with you for a while, but you wouldn’t accept it. I understand. Five years is a long time, and it’s natural to have trouble letting go.” His wording was clever. In just a few sentences, he’d painted a picture where he was blameless. Ava had tried to end it. I was the clingy ex. And he, Marcus Thorne, was the innocent party caught in the middle. What a piece of work. I still didn’t reply, just tapped my finger on the back of my phone, enjoying his sad little one-man show. When I remained silent, Marcus finally got to the point. His tone shifted from fake sympathy to smug superiority. “To be honest, my parents weren’t thrilled about me and Ava at first. You know, our family’s situation… They felt she wasn’t from the right background.” “But Ava really loves me. She stood up to all that pressure for my sake. She told me she’s never loved anyone the way she loves me.” “She even gave me her debit card to manage for her. And the renovations on our new condo? All done exactly to my taste.” He sent a picture. It was the “home” we had planned together. The sofa I had picked out, the design blueprints I’d stayed up all night drawing, the decor I had slowly accumulated. Now, in the center of the living room in the photo, hung a massive wedding portrait of him and Ava. She was nestled in his arms, her smile radiant and sickeningly sweet. It was a declaration of ownership. A brutal, slow-twisting knife for the ex-boyfriend. An invisible hand squeezed my heart, a suffocating ache. But I showed nothing. I just looked at the photo and saved it to my phone. Marcus’s performance wasn’t over. “Nathan, I know you’re a smart guy. Ava chose me. She chose the future my family can give her. Let the past be the past.” “Dragging this out will only make things more awkward for everyone, especially you.” There it was. The final blow. Everything before this was just a warm-up. He was telling me to back off gracefully. “Oh, by the way, I heard Ava’s mom is sick? Ava’s been really worried about it.” “If you’re willing to give her the money you two saved together to help with the medical bills, I’ll consider it your severance package.” “After all, you were with her for five years. We can’t let you walk away with nothing, can we?” Severance package? Using my money as my own severance package? I actually laughed out loud. Was this guy for real? Was he that naive, or just that stupid? He must have thought I was the same pushover who did whatever Ava wanted. That he could buy me off with a pittance of my own money. I didn’t read any further. I took a long screenshot of the entire chat history. Then, I sent him my first and last reply. “Screenshotted.” After sending that one word, I blocked and deleted him. I had no interest in a war of words. It was pointless. The best way to deal with a smug idiot like him was to let him fall headfirst into the pit he’d dug for himself. And these screenshots were the first shovel of dirt I was going to throw on his grave.

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1 My life was shattered the afternoon my parents came home three years ago, an android boy in tow. I, who had once been the apple of their eye, became the family’s resident “troublemaker” overnight. Dad always said I was more trouble than I was worth. Mom constantly compared me to Jett, the new android, my supposed younger brother. Even my sister, Isabelle, who I’d always been close to, would sneer, “What can you do besides fight me for attention?” The dam of my resentment finally broke. In a fit of rage, I shoved Jett to the ground. Mom’s face turned to stone. A sharp crack echoed through the room as her palm connected with my cheek. “He’s your brother!” she screamed. “If you were half as obedient as him, you wouldn’t be such a constant headache!” After that, I was forcibly sent to the Meridian Institute for Behavioral Correction. They called it “learning to be a good son,” a pretty lie for what it really was: a trade. They had swapped me for Jett. And today, after three long years, my family had finally come to get me. They stood at the institute’s gates, calling my name over and over, but I remained rooted to my spot, unresponsive. The director, seeing their confusion, smiled and explained to my mother, “Mrs. Evans, you have to say ‘Activate.’ Unit 1314 will not respond otherwise.” … “Activate, Unit 1314.” Mom’s voice trembled as she said it. She wasn’t sure what she was saying; she was just repeating the director’s words. My eyes lit up, like a long-dormant screen flickering to life. I rose from my chair, my posture ramrod straight, my hands hanging loosely at my sides. “Activated. Awaiting command.” Mom stared, stunned. The director’s voice chimed in from behind her. “Mrs. Evans, to better facilitate our students’ education, we’ve designed a proprietary system. The student can only be awakened by an activation command. With this, he will never disobey you.” Understanding dawned on Mom’s face. My sister, Isabelle, pushed her way to the front, a mischievous glint in her eyes. She’s five years older than me and always took pleasure in making me cry. Back then, whenever she succeeded, I’d chase her around the house until Mom yelled at both of us. “1314, bark like a dog for me.” At the command, I hunched over, stuck out my tongue, and let out a series of loud, sharp barks. Izzy burst out laughing. “Wow, Nell really has learned his lesson,” she said to our parents. “He used to whine for half an hour when we asked him to practice the piano. Now he’s so obedient, he’ll even bark on command.” Mom and Dad nodded, their eyes holding a clear glint of satisfaction with my performance. On the way home, Mom tried to make small talk. “Nell, how were your three years at the institute?” I didn’t answer. She hadn’t ordered me to. “Nell?” she said, her voice louder this time. My voice was a flat monotone, like a text-to-speech program. “Interrogative statements are not valid commands. If you require a response, please use the imperative form.” The air in the car went still. Mom’s voice caught in her throat. After a long moment, she managed, “Answer me.” “My time at the institute was fulfilling and meaningful. I completed the three core curricula: Emotional Control, Absolute Obedience, and Rational Thought. My graduation assessment was ‘Excellent,’ with the instructor’s evaluation noting me as ‘the most successful rehabilitation case of the year.’” I recited the lines verbatim, my tone devoid of any inflection, as if reading from a user manual. The back seat was silent for a long time. Then, Izzy muttered, “He sounds just like… Jett.” I kept my eyes fixed forward, my face a blank mask. The city blurred past the car window. The skyscrapers, the overpasses, the billboards—they were all different from what I remembered. At the institute, time wasn’t measured in days or months, but in commands. A day was no different from a month. The only way I could mark the passage of time was by scratching hash marks into the wall of the silence chamber. Eventually, I even forgot how to do that. By the time the car pulled into our driveway, dusk was settling. Jett was standing at the door, hands clasped in front of him, a perfect smile on his face—calibrated to reveal exactly six teeth. He looked exactly the same as he did three years ago. I remembered that day. Mom had knelt down to speak to him, her voice softer than I’d ever heard it. “Welcome home, Jett.” I had jumped off the sofa, eager to see my new brother, but my foot caught on something and I went sprawling. No one helped me up. They just said I was being clumsy. After that, everyone started to hate me. I wasn’t as obedient as Jett, not as thoughtful as Jett… In the end, I was the one sent away. “Welcome home, brother.” Jett’s voice was as sweet as ever. I didn’t reply. He hadn’t given the command to. Mom frowned. “You still don’t like Jett? It looks like you haven’t learned anything. Speak!” At her command, a smile instantly appeared on my face. “Acknowledged. Thank you.” Jett’s own smile never wavered, and Mom nodded, satisfied. At dinner, the family sat around the table. Jett was on Mom’s right, Izzy on Dad’s left. I was at the very end. The steam rising from my bowl carried the scent of rice, but my stomach felt nothing. At the institute, eating was defined as an “energy replenishment activity.” It had nothing to do with pleasure, nothing to do with hunger. “Let’s eat,” Mom said casually. I picked up my chopsticks at once. Rice, braised pork, green peppers… Seeing me eat the peppers, Izzy’s eyes widened. “Well, look at that. You eat green peppers now? Weren’t you the pickiest eater in the world?” I didn’t answer. I just took another bite of the peppers. The instructor had said preferences were “emotional residue,” a sign of incomplete rehabilitation. During my third month, I was locked in the silence chamber for two full days for refusing to eat green peppers. No light, no sound, no stimulation. Just darkness. When I got out, I ate the green peppers. Then the carrots, the onions, the bitter melon. I ate everything I used to refuse to touch. Mom nodded approvingly. She always liked a child who wasn’t a picky eater. Next, I reached for the peanuts. I put one in my mouth, chewed fifteen times, and swallowed. Dad’s eyes went wide. “He ate a peanut?” “Isn’t Nell allergic to peanuts? He ate one when he was little and his mouth swelled up like a sausage! We had to rush him to the ER!” Izzy put down her chopsticks, her voice filled with disbelief. “Can the institute cure allergies too?” I chewed silently, saying nothing. At the institute, you weren’t allowed to have allergies. The instructor had smeared peanut butter directly onto my arm. The skin would blister, rot, and peel, then heal, then rot again, but the allergic reaction never truly went away. A shiver ran through me. My throat began to tighten, an itch spreading across my skin. Angry red hives erupted on my face. Izzy frowned. “His face is getting red.” Mom leaned in for a closer look, her expression changing to one of horror. “That’s not a blush, that’s a reaction. Nell, stop eating! Don’t you know you’re allergic to peanuts?” My chopsticks froze in mid-air. I looked up at her, my eyes empty of emotion, my voice as steady as a recording. “Is that a command?” Mom froze for a second, but I was already struggling to breathe. Jett’s crisp voice cut through the panic. “Patient is experiencing an anaphylactic reaction. Respiratory distress is moderate. Approximately twenty-three percent of the skin is covered in hives. Recommend immediate administration of anti-allergy medication.” They snapped into action, fumbling to give me the medicine. After my breathing returned to normal, a heavy silence fell over the living room. Izzy’s voice came from the sofa. “Something’s wrong with him.” “He used to cry and throw tantrums. He wasn’t like this. He’s like… he’s like Jett!” I said nothing. She hadn’t given me the command to speak. “Can’t you just be normal?” Her voice suddenly rose to a shriek. “Stop acting like Jett! We wanted an obedient brother, not another robot!” I looked at her face. It was contorted with anger and frustration. “Please define ‘normal,’” I said flatly. The color drained from Izzy’s face. Mom and Dad looked horrified. Dad picked up the phone and called the institute. The person on the other end explained that this was a normal side effect of “deep behavioral conditioning” and that I would return to my old self in a few days. “Unit 1314 is our top student. He’s more obedient than any AI. Don’t worry, this is all part of the process.” Dad hung up and relayed the message. Mom nodded. They both seemed relieved. In the days that followed, I became the most useful tool in the house. When Mom told me to do the dishes, I cleaned them more thoroughly than Jett ever had. When Dad told me to move the planters, I moved every single one by myself. When Izzy told me to fetch her packages, I ran faster than a dog. “Nell is even more useful than Jett now,” Mom said with a laugh. Everyone agreed. Until the night Izzy forgot to deactivate me. Everyone else was asleep. I sat on the living room sofa, from dusk until dawn. When Mom came downstairs the next morning, she found me sitting in the exact same position. Her face went white. The coffee cup slipped from her hand and shattered on the floor. A woman in a white coat came to the house. She introduced herself as Dr. Wallace, a psychologist. Her voice was gentle. “Hello, Nell.” I said nothing. Mom wrung her hands nervously beside me. “You have to give him a command. He won’t speak otherwise.” Dr. Wallace gave my mother a sharp, disapproving look before turning back to me. “Tell me your name.” She used the imperative form. “Unit 1314.” Dr. Wallace’s pen paused on her notepad. “What about your real name?” “Nell Evans. But that is a former designation. Institute protocol requires graduated students to use their unit number as their official identifier.” Dr. Wallace was stunned into silence. The faces of my family members turned grim. They retreated into the study, speaking in hushed tones about things I couldn’t understand. “Post-traumatic stress… depersonalization… requires long-term therapy…” After that, things at home became strange. They started treating me with a delicate, cautious air. On Jett’s birthday, they made a difficult decision. They were sending him away. This would be his last birthday with us. The living room was filled with balloons, a two-tiered cake sitting on the table. Jett walked over to me, his smile as gentle as ever. “Happy birthday, brother.” My eyes blinked. A wire deep inside my brain felt like it had just loosened. Today was my birthday, too. No one remembered. Three years ago, on this very day, I was shoved into a car and sent to the institute. As they took me away, I cried and begged Mom to let me have a piece of my birthday cake first. She told me I could have cake when I came back, after I’d learned to be a good boy. I had learned. But the cake never came. Jett suddenly smiled. “Brother, the definition of ‘normal’ is pushing away people you don’t like. Push me. Just like you did three years ago.” I stared at him. The gentle look was gone from his eyes, replaced by a strange, flickering light. But he had given me a definition of ‘normal.’ I placed my hand on his shoulder. Before I could even push, he threw himself backwards, collapsing like a porcelain doll designed to break. The living room door swung open. Izzy stood there, holding a plate of fruit. “Nell! What are you doing?” she screamed. The fruit platter crashed to the floor. Jett sat on the ground, his eyes welling up with simulated tears. “Brother, why did you push me? I thought you didn’t hate me anymore.” He was lying. I knew he was. His tears were a program, his trembling generated by an algorithm. Mom rushed over, her expression shifting from shock to fury in a matter of seconds. “What did you do? Why did you push Jett?” “He told me to.” “You’re lying!” Jett sobbed. “Why would I ask you to push me? I just wanted to wish my brother a happy birthday…” Izzy knelt and helped Jett up, her movements delicate, as if handling fragile glass. She looked up at me, her eyes filled with bitter disappointment. “You haven’t changed at all. You spend three years at that place, come back pretending to be so obedient, and then you show your true colors the first chance you get. I knew it. A leopard can’t change its spots. He’s always been like this, jealous of Jett.” Mom’s eyes were red, not with sympathy for me, but with rage. “And we were just talking about being better to you. I was regretting sending you to that place. We were trying to figure out how to make it up to you.” She stepped closer, jabbing a finger into my chest. “And for what? You haven’t changed. You’re still the same malicious kid. You still can’t stand Jett. You put on an act for all this time and fooled every single one of us.” I opened my mouth, wanting to say it wasn’t an act, that the institute had done this to me. That they had sent me there. But I couldn’t. There was no command. “Speak!” Mom roared. “I have not received a command to ‘speak.’” Mom’s face flushed a deep crimson. Behind her, Jett sobbed softly in her arms. “He should just die,” Izzy said suddenly. The room went silent for a beat. “What did you say?” Dad asked, frowning. Izzy’s voice was so loud it seemed to rattle the windows. “I said, he should die! He’s so obedient, right? He follows every command, right? Then tell him to die! If he died, at least we’d have some peace!” The moment she finished, Jett collapsed. His body convulsed, his eyes rolled back, and foam frothed at his lips. “Jett! Jett, what’s wrong?” Mom shrieked. She cradled his head while Dad tried to revive him. Izzy was on the phone, screaming for an ambulance. They were all crowded around him. No one was looking at me. I stood in the middle of the room, watching them. No one looked at me. “Command received. Terminate.” No one heard me. They were all too busy, their faces etched with panic and fear for Jett. I slowly turned and walked towards the balcony. The night wind whipped in, cold and sharp. “Nell!” Izzy saw me first. Her shriek was shrill, the phone slipping from her hand and clattering to the floor. Mom’s head snapped around, the color draining from her face. “Nell! What are you doing?” I smiled at her, and without a moment’s hesitation, I carried out the command.

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1 When my birth parents found me, they swore they would treat me and the imposter who had taken my place with absolute equality. We wore the same designer clothes, attended the same university, and were even married off to a set of twin brothers. It all fell apart the day the headlines screamed that the imposter’s husband was having an affair with a famous actress. In response, my parents called my husband over. And they arranged a mistress for him—a young, beautiful secretary. This, they said, was a special favor to me. The secretary had a clean background and, crucially, was infertile. She would never threaten my position as the wife of the younger Covington heir. I didn’t lose my temper. I just picked up my phone and called for an entire club’s worth of escorts. I told my family, “Why stop at one? If we’re going to do this, let’s do it with style. And if that’s not enough, I can always call for more.” My brother, Tristan, scowled, accusing me of being too extreme. He insisted our parents were only looking out for me. “Scarlett is prettier and more accomplished than you,” he sneered. “If even her husband cheated, what makes you think you can hold on to your marriage?” I nodded slowly, looking him straight in the eye. “He’s right. I can’t. So I’m done.” “I don’t want the husband. And I don’t want any of you, either.” … My father’s hands trembled with rage. “You wretched girl! How could you say something so heartless to your own family?” My mother’s eyes welled up as she clutched her chest. “Seraphina, we searched so long for you. How can you throw us away so easily?” Tristan’s voice was a furious hiss. “You’re nothing but an ungrateful brat!” Just then, a breaking news alert flashed across the television screen. “Sources report that Ms. Scarlett Blackwood, heiress to the Blackwood Corporation, jumped from the balcony of her marital home at five o’clock this afternoon…” The camera showed Scarlett, pale as a ghost, being loaded into an ambulance. She’d jumped from the fifth floor, but right into the swimming pool below. She didn’t even have a scratch on her. But my parents and Tristan were already in a full-blown panic. “Hurry! Get the family hospital cleared out! I want the best team of specialists on standby!” I watched their frantic retreat, then calmly walked to the window. “Scarlett jumped. So I’ll jump, too. That’s only fair, isn’t it?” I made a move to climb onto the sill. Three terrified screams ripped through the air behind me. They scrambled back, yanking me away from the window with frantic strength. My mother clung to me, sobbing hysterically, while Tristan pinned my arms. My father slammed the window shut, locked it, and then, turning back, he slapped me hard across the face. “Seraphina, how dare you use suicide to threaten us?” Tristan and my mother froze. It was the first time any of them had laid a hand on me since they’d rescued me, covered in wounds, from an illegal sweatshop. My mother was the first to react. “What are you doing? You scared her! Apologize to Seraphina right now!” But I just stared at them, my cheek burning, my voice eerily calm. “You slapped me.” “So now you have to slap Scarlett. To be fair. Right?” All three of them stared at me as if I were a lunatic. My father’s voice shook with fury. “You’ve lost your mind!” I smiled. A broken, empty thing. “Isn’t this what you’ve been teaching me all along?” When they first brought me home, they spent a full week brainwashing me. They said they’d raised Scarlett for twenty years and loved her too deeply to send her back to her impoverished biological family. But they made a solemn vow: they would be perfectly, absolutely fair. Neither of us would ever feel neglected. And they kept their word. If Scarlett got a new haute couture gown, an identical one would appear in my closet. The family assets and company shares were divided equally between us, down to the last cent. If Tristan made a sarcastic remark to me, my parents would immediately force him to repeat the exact same words to Scarlett. Their love was perfectly distributed. No need to fight for it, no need to guess. After seeing so many online dramas about real and fake heiresses tearing each other apart, I once thought this arrangement was for the best. But then, everything soured. Scarlett hit her rebellious phase. She got into fights at school and started dating some dropout with bleached hair. My parents were heartbroken. As punishment, they made her kneel in the cold, dusty family chapel—and they dragged me there to kneel beside her. Their reasoning was flawless, in their eyes. “We share the good times and the bad. That’s what a real family does. That’s what’s fair.” Later, Scarlett flunked her college entrance exams. While my parents comforted her, they were also tearing up my acceptance letter to a top-tier university. They sent me to the same third-rate arts college abroad that Scarlett was going to. I’d studied sciences my whole life, but they changed my major to Arts Management, the same as hers. “You and Scarlett will both be taking over the family business someday, so it doesn’t matter what you study,” they’d said. “But we promised to be fair, which means you must receive the exact same education.” I knew something was deeply wrong. But after a childhood of being passed around and treated like dirt, I was desperate for a family. I couldn’t bear to let go of this fragile, imitation warmth. At least, I told myself, they were trying to be good to me. That delusion lasted until Scarlett became obsessed with Damien Covington, the eldest son of the Covington dynasty. And Damien, conveniently, had a twin brother, Daniel. My parents gave me no choice. They arranged my engagement to Daniel. Our weddings were set for the same day. Scarlett and I wore identical gowns and carried identical bouquets. The venue, the ceremony, even the seating charts for the guests were perfect mirror images of each other. When the priest read the vows, I saw Scarlett beaming with pure joy. But all I felt was a wave of nausea. Today, when they so casually tried to arrange a mistress for my husband, I finally understood the source of that feeling. Their idea of fairness wasn’t about treating me as an equal. It was about turning me into Scarlett’s living duplicate. But there was one thing they didn’t know. I had a way out. I’m not from this world. 2 I was transmigrated here. The System that brought me gave me one mission: to collect affection points from the three members of the Blackwood family. I was close to maxing them out. When I told the System I was giving up, it tried to reason with me. “Host, the affection points don’t lie. They truly care about you.” Before I could argue, my parents and Tristan had dragged me into the car and were speeding toward the hospital. “Are we going so I can be admitted alongside Scarlett?” I asked dryly. “We wouldn’t want her to feel an imbalance, after all.” The atmosphere in the car turned to ice. All three of them looked horrified, but they didn’t dare scold me again. My mother took my hand. “Seraphina, we’re bringing you because we’re a family. Scarlett will need your support.” Her voice softened. “We were wrong before. We hurt you, and it will never happen again.” Just as she finished speaking, Tristan’s phone rang. It was the hospital. Scarlett was pregnant, but the shock of her “jump” had put the pregnancy at risk. The doctors said she couldn’t handle any more stress. My father slammed on the brakes. “Seraphina, you never liked the smell of hospitals, did you? Why don’t you go do some shopping? Clear your head.” My mother pressed a black card into my hand. “Buy whatever you want. Take your time.” Tristan opened my door and practically pulled me out of the car. “Don’t you dare go near Scarlett and cause a scene,” he warned. “She can’t take it right now.” The car sped away, leaving me on the curb. I held the card and asked the System, “Did their affection points go up?” There was a long, strange silence. “…They went up a little.” I laughed, a humorless sound. “It seems your sensors aren’t very accurate. It’s confusing guilt for affection.” “Now,” I said, my voice hardening. “Initiate my exit protocol.” This time, the System didn’t hesitate. “Exit protocol confirmed. Initiating…” I walked into the nearest luxury department store and, for the first time, chose an outfit based on my own taste. I had just changed when Tristan called. His voice was urgent. “Get to the hospital. Now. You need to tell Scarlett that you’re pregnant, too.” “If you can convince her not to terminate her pregnancy, I’ll make Mom and Dad officially add your name to the family trust! I swear!” I was about to refuse, but he cut me off, his voice exploding with rage. “Seraphina Blackwood! I knew it! You’ve always been jealous of her!” “She’s fragile! If she goes through with an abortion, it could destroy her health!” “It’s just a little lie! It’s not like it’ll cost you anything!” No, it wouldn’t cost me a piece of my flesh. But it would cost me my freedom. They would lock me in the house to “gestate” alongside Scarlett. We would wear the same maternity clothes, eat the same nutritional meals. They’d probably even want our weight gain to be identical. Then, after ten months, they would find some random baby and hand it to me. But none of that mattered anymore. I was leaving. I looked up at the hospital looming in the distance. “What I mean is,” I said into the phone, my voice calm, “I don’t need my name on your family trust.” Tristan was silent for a second, then his voice dropped to a menacing growl. “You better not pull any stunts.” Inside the VIP hospital suite, my parents were fussing over Scarlett, who was propped up in bed. When they saw me walk in, their faces filled with worry and apprehension. Before I could say a word, Scarlett snatched a fruit knife from the bedside table and lunged, aiming for my stomach. “I don’t want this baby,” she shrieked, “and I won’t let you have one either!” 3 I didn’t dodge. I even grabbed her hand, guiding the blade, and pushed it deeper into myself. The System had warned me that a self-initiated exit would result in punishment. But there was a loophole: if I died as a direct result of the abuse from the Blackwood family, I would not only be freed but also receive compensation. I watched as my parents and Tristan rushed toward me, their faces contorted in horror. They were screaming for doctors, their hands fumbling to press against the bleeding wound. For the first time, Tristan’s face was a mask of pure, helpless confusion. A small smile touched my lips. Looks like I wasn’t going to die. Not yet. When I woke up, all three of them were by my bedside. They looked haggard, with dark circles under their eyes. Seeing me awake, Tristan spoke first. “Dad already slapped Scarlett.” I gave a faint “mm.” That small sound was like a spark to a powder keg. Tristan shot to his feet, his voice a low roar. “She cried all night because of that slap! The stress almost made her miscarry! And that’s all you have to say? What more do you want?” “I don’t want anything,” I said quietly. My father sighed heavily. “Seraphina, I’ll transfer a portion of Scarlett’s assets to you as compensation. You won’t be at a disadvantage in this, I promise.” My mother dabbed at her eyes. “Scarlett didn’t mean it, darling. She was just… overwrought…” I ignored them, my voice distant as if recalling a dream. “When I first came here, I got a kitten.” “Scarlett was playing with it, and it scratched her face.” “You said that to be fair, you had to do the same to me. You held the cat down and scratched my face with its claws.” “Then you had the cat put down.” The room fell into a dead silence. They were frozen, speechless. Finally, Tristan broke the silence, veins bulging in his neck as he yelled, “That’s not the same thing!” “Dad already promised you compensation! And besides, you’re fine, aren’t you?” Just then, the doctor walked in. “The patient had to have a hysterectomy. The family needs to be vigilant about preventing post-operative infections.” I slowly turned my head to look at the three statues standing by my bed. I smiled. “So, how are you going to make this fair?” My mother stammered, “S-Scarlett’s child will know you as their godmother… when you’re old, they’ll take care of you…” A laugh, sharp and self-mocking, escaped my lips. “So the assets you’re giving me as ‘compensation’ will ultimately go to her child anyway.” They opened their mouths, desperate to explain, but I cut them off, closing my eyes. “I was just kidding.” “I trust you. I trust that you will always be perfectly fair to both me and Scarlett.” 4 Tears welled in my parents’ eyes. They moved to embrace me, but I pushed them away. “I only have one request now.” “I want my own birthday.” “For the last ten years, I’ve had to share my birthday with Scarlett.” “I just want to eat a cake that’s all mine.” “I just want to hear you say ‘Happy Birthday’ to me, and only me.” They agreed without a moment’s hesitation. Racked with guilt, they planned a party of extravagant proportions. Every detail was dripping with luxury. And it was all kept a secret from Scarlett. The System’s voice echoed in my mind. “Are you… starting to feel reluctant to leave them?” I shook my head. Before the System chose me, I was an orphan with no one in the world. But it had shown me the original Seraphina’s memories from before she was lost—a life filled with warmth and genuine love from her family. That’s why I had agreed to come here. I believed they truly loved their daughter. For ten years, I waited, hoping to see a flicker of that love from the memories return. But I was done waiting. On the day of the party, just as I expected, Scarlett showed up. Her face was a mask of pure malice. “Do you really think Mom and Dad love you?” she hissed. “They found you years ago. But I was having a hard time, throwing tantrums, hurting myself. They were worried about me, so they decided not to bring you home. It was the same week your foster father almost…” She let the word hang in the air. “They only came for you later, when you were about to be beaten to death in that sweatshop, because they had no choice.” “But they promised me. They promised they’d use ‘fairness’ as an excuse to make sure you were always one step beneath me.” I looked at her, my expression unreadable. “Are you finished?” Scarlett’s face contorted with rage. “You just wait. In a minute, I’m going to ‘accidentally’ fall down the stairs and tell everyone you pushed me. Let’s see how calm you are when Mom and Dad throw you out!” I grabbed her wrist. “No need to pretend,” I said. “I’ll make it real for you.” And with all my strength, I shoved her down the grand staircase. My parents and Tristan, drawn by the noise, arrived just in time to see Scarlett tumble. My father lunged at me, his foot connecting brutally with the fresh stitches on my abdomen. The force sent me flying over the second-floor railing. I landed in the living room, crashing directly onto the five-tiered birthday cake. Cream and strawberry filling flooded my mouth. It was sweet. Just like the happiness I had always imagined. In the ensuing chaos, Tristan still remembered to have the guards drag me to the basement. “We’ll deal with you when we get back!” he roared. The basement was dark and cold. No one remembered me. Three days later, they finally returned, muttering about how they were going to punish me. But when they opened the basement door, all that greeted them was the thick, cloying stench of decay. From the cake. And from me.

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