Category: English

The brand new Tesla I just bought for $100,000—I sold it for a measly $30,000. All because of my past life coworker Kate, who was eight months pregnant and suddenly clutched her belly in pain, crying and begging me: “Alice, I’m going into labor. Please take me to the hospital.” I panicked immediately and drove her to the hospital in my new car. When we got there, the baby had the umbilical cord wrapped around its neck and was stillborn. The next day, her husband hung a banner at the company entrance: “Heartless coworker’s reckless driving caused improper fetal position and suffocation death!” The video went viral online. I was cyberbullied and doxxed across the internet. Her husband wouldn’t let it go either. He said I killed his son, forced me to kneel and apologize, and demanded compensation. My dad was so upset he had a stroke and became paralyzed. Our house was vandalized with paint. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the office. I had just sold my car when Kate clutched her belly with a pained expression: “Alice, I think I’m going into labor. Can you drive me to the hospital?” I replied calmly: “If you need to go to the hospital, call 911. Why are you asking me?”

Kate clutched her belly, cold sweat covering her forehead, her whole body swaying unsteadily. She grabbed my arm: “I’m about to give birth. Please drive me to the hospital. It hurts so much…” That expression, that tone, those words—every single punctuation mark was exactly the same as in my past life. I stared at her face as my mind exploded with a roar. In my past life, I was deceived by this very act. She had cried and begged me just like this, saying things like “can’t get a cab,” “no time,” “you just bought a new car.” I had softened then. I was so panicked I could barely grip the steering wheel, but I still gritted my teeth and rushed to the hospital in my newly purchased Tesla. On the way, I ran two yellow lights and went over three speed bumps. When we got to the hospital, she was wheeled into the delivery room. Two hours later, the doctor came out with a very grave expression: “Is the family here? The baby had the umbilical cord wrapped around its neck. Stillborn.” My legs went weak right then. Kate cried, “It’s you. It’s all because you drove too fast. You killed my baby.” I didn’t know any better then and actually thought it was my fault for driving. I apologized to her helplessly. Marcus didn’t say anything at the time. He just looked at me with red eyes. The next day, he hung a banner at the company entrance. White background, black letters: “Heartless coworker’s reckless driving caused improper fetal position and suffocation death!” A dozen relatives stood behind him. Some held phones livestreaming, others cursed on the street. The video shot to the top of the local trending topics that same day. The topic “Tesla Driver Kills Baby” got over 200 million views in three days. My name, my photo, my ID number, my home address—all of it was posted online. Every single comment cursed me out. “Someone like this is allowed to drive? Murderer!” “Oh, so driving a Tesla makes you special? Pay compensation! Go to prison!” “Why doesn’t she just die?” The company called me in for a meeting that same day. The HR manager said expressionlessly, “Alice, this incident has caused extremely negative impact on the company’s image. The board has decided you’re fired.” I was terminated without even a chance to defend myself. Marcus even came to my house: “You killed my son. My wife is traumatized now, physically and mentally. You have to come take care of her, or you won’t have peace.” Every day at six in the morning, I went to his house to cook for Kate, wipe her down, and wash her underwear. Kate lay in bed, crying and cursing me: “Alice, give me back my son, give him back…” I served at their house for a whole month. When I got home, I learned my dad had been so upset he became paralyzed, and relatives and friends had cut ties with us. I wanted to drive to the hospital, but I was killed by an out-of-control truck. Now, Kate was still grabbing my arm. That pitiful look on her face was exactly the same as in my past life. I pulled my arm from her hand, prying off one finger at a time. “If you’re going into labor, call 911. Why are you asking me?” Kate froze. Tears still hung on her face, and her expression suddenly stiffened, like someone had pressed pause. Madison beside us got anxious: “Alice, how can you talk like that! She’s about to give birth!” “Exactly! You have a car at least. Waiting for 911 takes forever!” Kate snapped out of it and cried even harder: “Alice, wouldn’t it be faster if you drove me? I really can’t hold on…” Tears dripped down, hitting the floor. Her acting was as good as in my past life. I looked at her, the corner of my mouth twitching. “Car? I already sold it.” The moment those words landed, the entire office went silent for a full two seconds. Kate’s crying caught in her throat. The expression on her face changed from pitiful to disbelieving. “Your Tesla that you just bought! $100,000! You’re telling me you sold it? Impossible!”

Her voice suddenly became shrill, drawing everyone’s attention. “Alice, that’s really uncool. If you don’t want to take her, just say so. Why make up such lies?” “You just got that car last week. You sold it after a few days? Who’s going to believe that?” “That was a new car, $100,000. She doesn’t want to take her, so she won’t.” Everyone’s eyes fell on me in unison. Kate reacted even faster. She clutched her belly, her body tilting as she leaned against a nearby desk, tears dripping down. “Alice, if you don’t want to take me, I really won’t force you…” Her voice was soft and trembling: “But you can’t lie about selling your car. My belly really hurts. I just wanted you to help me…” As she spoke, her whole body started sliding down, as if she couldn’t stand anymore. Madison rushed over to support her, then glared back at me. “Alice, look! She’s about to faint from the pain! And you’re here making up stories!” Carter chimed in too: “Exactly. How hard is it to drive someone? Do you really want to just watch her die?” Tony picked up his tea, took a leisurely sip, his voice neither loud nor soft, just enough for everyone to hear: “Some people act all mighty when they’re driving nice cars, but when it’s time to actually use them, they play poor. Sold the car? Who believes that?” I didn’t say anything. I watched this group coldly. In my past life, they wore the same faces. Madison was the first person to repost the cyberbullying video. She even said in the company group: “Having someone like this in our department is so embarrassing.” Later, when someone doxxed my home address, Tony twisted the knife: “Someone like that doesn’t deserve to live in that neighborhood.” Now they stood here, surrounding me. Their eyes full of contempt, as if I were some cold-blooded animal. I felt not a ripple of emotion inside. I simply said calmly: “My car is mine to sell whenever I want. I don’t have a car. Don’t come asking me.” Kate let out another scream, this time much louder than before. Her face really did turn pale, her forehead covered in cold sweat, her lips purple, even her breathing becoming rapid. The people around started panicking. “Call 911 quick!” Someone shouted, “Right, right, call 911!” Carter pulled out his phone, his hands shaking. Kate collapsed on the floor, still crying, still screaming in pain. But her eyes looked past the crowd, staring straight at me. Full of hatred. She hated me for not taking her. In my past life, after I obediently served her for a month, I also supplemented my knowledge about babies extensively. I read over a dozen books and watched hundreds of educational videos online. The videos said that when the umbilical cord wraps around the neck three or more times, the probability of fetal death is already extremely high. Especially in late pregnancy, the wrapping causes insufficient blood supply. It has nothing to do with riding in a car or bumpy roads. But they insisted it was my fault. I was guilt-ridden and devastated. Until I accidentally saw text messages on Kate’s phone that she sent to Marcus during her late pregnancy. The baby clearly had the cord wrapped around its neck, yet they still refused a cesarean section. She and her husband had been waiting for this day from the start, waiting for a “sucker” to take them. The sound of an ambulance came from downstairs. I stood in place, motionless. The moment Kate was lifted onto the stretcher, she looked at me again. I smiled at her. That smile held no warmth. “Kate, don’t blame the wrong person this time.” After Kate was carried away, the office was quiet for less than half an hour. Then my phone started buzzing. In the company group, Kate was handing out good person cards: “Thank you everyone for calling 911 for me just now. Without you all, I really wouldn’t have known what to do.” “I’m at the hospital now. I’ll be going into the delivery room soon.” “Thank you all so much. You’re all my lifesavers…”

Three messages in a row, the tone excessively polite. Then she added a fourth. “But I still want to say, some people can’t be so cold-blooded. Refusing to help will bring karmic retribution!” After the message went out, the group fell silent for a dozen seconds. Madison was the first to respond: “Some people are like that. When they buy a new car, they want the whole world to know. But when it’s time to actually use it, they play dead.” Carter followed closely: “Exactly. Kate even helped her get breakfast all the time.” Tony sent a sarcastic emoji with the caption “heh.” Other people in the group started talking too. “What’s going on? Who’s cold-blooded?” “I heard Alice refused to help? The pregnant woman was about to give birth and she wouldn’t even lend her car?” “Not wouldn’t lend—she said she sold it.” “The Tesla she just bought for $100,000. She said she sold it. Who’s going to believe that?” Messages came one after another. The group exploded. I didn’t reply. Not a single word. I stood up, pushed my chair back, and walked straight to the manager’s office. When I pushed the door open, Mr. Pierre was holding his thermos and reading the group messages. He looked up when he saw me. His expression clearly paused as he turned his phone face-down on the desk. “Alice, have a seat.” I didn’t sit. “Mr. Pierre, I’m resigning.” The air went quiet for two seconds. Mr. Pierre furrowed his brows: “You just got top sales for the quarter. Your bonus hasn’t even been paid yet. Do you know how much the quarterly bonus is? $80,000. If you leave now, you won’t get a cent.” “Just because of what they said in the group? Let them talk. It’s not like you’re losing anything.” I shook my head. “It’s not because of that.” Mr. Pierre sighed and pulled out a piece of paper from his drawer, pushing it over. “Are you sure? Once you sign this, the bonus is gone.” I picked up the pen and signed my name on the resignation letter without hesitation. “I don’t need it. My health isn’t good.” In my past life, the despair of being wrongly accused was vivid. Not a single person at the company stood up for me. Many even stabbed me in the back. That’s when I understood—Kate targeted me as a sucker because I was top sales. The others were unrecognizable due to jealousy. Now I was staying away from this pit of fire. I wanted to see who else they’d target! Mr. Pierre looked at me for a few seconds and didn’t try to persuade me further. He put the resignation letter in his drawer, stood up, and shook my hand. “Alice, you’re the best salesperson I’ve ever managed. If you ever want to come back, find me anytime.” I nodded at him and turned to walk out of the office. As I passed through the office area, several people looked up at me. Madison’s gaze scraped over me like a knife. She muttered under her breath, “Guilty conscience, huh.” Carter leaned over to whisper with her, and both of them laughed together. I didn’t look at them. I picked up my bag from the desk, took off my ID badge and placed it on the keyboard, and walked out without looking back. The moment the elevator doors closed, I realized my palms were covered in sweat. Since being reborn, this was the first moment I truly felt alive again. After leaving the company building, I pulled out my phone and dialed my cousin Molina’s number. “Molina, help me look into someone.” “Who?” “Kate. Obstetrics. Just admitted. Help me check her prenatal examination records.” There was silence on the other end for two seconds. Molina’s voice lowered: “Why are you checking her prenatal records? That’s not according to protocol.” I paused, then said word by word: “I suspect there’s something wrong with the baby in her belly.” “Make sure to photograph all the records for evidence. Examination reports, consent forms, doctor’s notes—save everything.”

Only after Molina assured me repeatedly did I hang up. At ten that night, in the small group I hadn’t left, messages were still coming. Someone gossiped curiously in the group: “Do you think Kate’s having a boy or a girl?” Bella responded fastest: “Definitely a boy. Look how pointy her belly is. Round is a girl, pointy is a boy. The old saying is never wrong.” “Boy or girl, as long as it’s safe.” “Kate has such good relationships. God will definitely bless her.” As they talked, the topic gradually turned to me. Tony sent a message: “Speaking of which, since Alice didn’t take Kate today, shouldn’t she make up for it somehow? Buying something to compensate isn’t too much to ask, right?” Madison replied instantly: “Exactly. The pregnant woman was about to give birth and she refused to help. Shouldn’t she at least buy some bird’s nest to visit her later?” “I bet Alice never sold that car at all. It was just an excuse not to take her.” “Someone @ her and make her come out and say something.” Someone @’d me. I ignored it. Messages kept coming. I stared at the screen, reading word by word. These people were the same in my past life. Madison led the charge demanding I pay compensation. Tony egged Marcus on to sue me in court. Carter posed as an “insider” online to spread rumors. Now, before the baby was even born, they were already arranging how I should “atone.” My phone buzzed. It was a voice message from Molina. I played it. Her voice was very low but extremely fast: “The baby didn’t make it. The doctor said it was due to umbilical cord strangulation causing suffocation, directly related to the mother’s refusal of a cesarean section.” I stared at this message for a long time. At this time in my past life, I was kneeling in the hospital corridor kowtowing until my forehead bled, my mouth repeating “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Marcus stood beside me filming a video, the camera shoved in my face, his voice cold: “Everyone look. This is the perpetrator’s attitude.” That video went viral the next day. In this life, I just wanted to see how they’d continue their act without me. Early the next morning, I opened a short video platform. A topic hung prominently on the trending list. I clicked on the first video. Marcus stood at the company entrance with a white banner with black letters behind him. “Heartless company abuses pregnant woman—give me back my son!” Kate’s parents were collapsed on the ground crying. Seven or eight relatives stood nearby. Some held phones livestreaming, others cursed. The scene was even bigger than in my past life. The video already had over ten thousand comments. Netizens were commenting with all kinds of opinions. “This kind of company should be exposed!” “Are the managers hiding too? Pay compensation!” “The coworkers are all accomplices!” In the livestream, Madison and Carter were trapped inside the revolving door, their faces completely pale. Suddenly, Bella squeezed out from the crowd. She rushed up to Marcus, her voice shrill and urgent: “Stop making a scene! The person who killed your son isn’t the company! It’s Alice! She refused to drive your wife to the hospital! If you’re looking for revenge, go find her!” Marcus froze for a moment, then cried even louder: “Where’s that bitch? Make her come out!” “She resigned! She ran away!” Bella pointed back at the company entrance. “We’re all good people! She’s the only cold-blooded animal! Go find her, not us!” Carter also shouted: “Right, right, it has nothing to do with us! Alice refused to help!” Madison shrank in the back, nodding vigorously. Various discussions came from the crowd. “Is she fleeing from guilt?” “If she’d driven the pregnant woman to the hospital right away, maybe the baby could’ve been saved.” “So cold-blooded. If it were me, I definitely would’ve taken her immediately.” I stood outside the crowd, listening to everyone’s discussions and watching my coworkers’ righteous indignation. Suddenly, I smiled and said loudly: “You want me, someone without a car, to take a pregnant woman? With my two legs?”

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In my rock climbing team, I’d always been paying out of my own pocket to get my friends the best equipment to keep everyone safe. Until a new member joined the team. “Twelve hundred for rock climbing gear? Are you robbing us, Elena?” Someone explained, “Twelve hundred isn’t bad, actually. This stuff goes for seven or eight thousand on the market.” “Elena owns a shop. She only charges us cost price.” Muniz continued, “Cost price? Don’t make me laugh. My family owns a shop too. I know exactly how much markup there is.” “Why don’t you all order from me instead? I’ll give you the real cost price—two hundred a set.” Everyone in the group chat was tempted. “Two hundred? That’s way too big a difference.” “Let’s have Muniz handle the equipment from now on.” “Elena, don’t be upset, but how much have you made off us all these years under the guise of friendship?” Made money? All these years, to help the team win, I’d been giving them 1-on-1 custom-made gear. The kind you couldn’t buy on the market even if you had money. I tapped my keyboard lightly and replied, “OK.” Two-hundred-dollar equipment—as long as they weren’t afraid of falling off the rock wall, it was fine by me.

Half a month before the rock climbing competition, my teammates sent me their latest body measurements. “Elena, we’re counting on you for the equipment!” Before I could respond, Muniz mentioned me. “Twelve hundred a set for equipment? Am I reading this right…” “That price… is way too outrageous.” I thought she found the price too low and was about to explain that for the team’s overall benefit, I didn’t mind taking a small loss. Instead, she sent a voice message, her tone particularly agitated. “This stuff costs less than two hundred to make. How can you have the nerve to charge everyone twelve hundred?” “Elena, even if you’re ripping off your friends, this is way too ruthless!” My typing fingers froze. Cost of two hundred? The cost of knockoffs on Amazon, maybe? My teammate Verna explained on my behalf. “Muniz, you just joined the scene, so you don’t understand. Good rock climbing equipment really is expensive.” “Elena owns a shop and only charges everyone cost price. This stuff would be at least seven thousand on the market.” Muniz replied: “I understand perfectly well. My family owns a shop too.” “Market price is one thing, but the markup is huge.” “When my family buys wholesale, even the best equipment only costs two hundred, but we can retail it for ten thousand.” The group fell silent for a moment. Verna spoke up again, but this time directed at me. “Elena, why don’t you explain to everyone…” “We understand you want to make money, but isn’t a six-times markup a bit… too excessive?” Other teammates chimed in as well. “I knew no one gets up early for nothing. No wonder Elena was always so enthusiastic.” “Elena, this is too much. Every time we thanked you for the low prices, were you secretly calling us idiots?” Muniz sent a hand-over-mouth emoji. “Oops, should I not have said anything? I’m ruining someone’s cash cow…” “But I really couldn’t help it. I can’t stand people who make money off their friends.” “I used to provide equipment for my old team too, but I charged the real cost price—two hundred a set.” “If you’re willing, I can give you all the same price.” The group got even more excited. “Muniz, you can really give it to us for two hundred? That’s such a savings!” “I won’t have to scrimp and save for equipment anymore.” “Ugh, all the money I saved by going hungry ended up enriching a capitalist.” Even the usually fair-minded captain, Johnson, came out and sent a message. “My fault for not properly researching the market and human nature. I let certain people rip everyone off.” Immediately after, Johnson private messaged me. “Elena, everyone’s pretty upset about this. Can you refund this round of payments?” “We want to get equipment from Muniz.” “It’s not that everyone doesn’t want to support you. It’s just that your price difference is too big.”

I replied with an “OK” and transferred back the seven thousand two hundred I’d collected today. People in the group were still complaining. “We got refunds for this round, but what about all the previous ones? We’ve ordered at least eight times, if not ten.” “She tearfully made a thousand bucks off each of us every time, right? That’s six thousand from the six of us!” “Ten times is sixty thousand. Tsk tsk. I bet we’ve been supporting her entire shop.” I silently exited WhatsApp without responding. There was no point. Even if I told them my cost price alone was over six thousand, so what? They’d just accuse me of bullshitting. I looked at each team member’s latest body measurements on my computer and called the factory. “Don’t make those six sets of custom equipment.” The technician, Nelson, let out an excited shriek. “You’ve finally come to your senses!” “Every time you custom-make stuff for them, and you only charge that little—it’s not even a fraction of the cost.” “Some people, even if you don’t make a cent off them, will still think you’re making a fortune.” “This is the right move!” After hanging up, I laughed at myself. When I first joined the team last year, my teammates’ eyes lit up when they saw my equipment. “Elena, your shoe soles are amazing. You can tell they have great grip just by looking!” “Wow, your rope is clearly lighter than mine, but how does it feel sturdier?” Johnson looked at his own equipment and sighed despondently. “My set still cost almost three thousand. Elena’s set must be over ten thousand, right?” “Forget it, can’t be jealous. My salary can barely sustain even this set.” After spending time with them, I was infected by their passion for rock climbing. So I volunteered that I could get them the same quality equipment I had, for only twelve hundred. I said I owned a shop and could get cost price. Actually, I was the founder of UP Company, the largest rock climbing equipment manufacturer. The first competition after they switched equipment, our team took first place. Before that, we couldn’t even make top three. From then on, every time we competed, advertisers even approached us. Everyone got paid while pursuing their hobby. To help everyone perform better, I asked for their body measurements and started making personalized custom gear for them. Custom gear couldn’t be mass-produced on assembly lines. It required technicians to supervise and adjust every detail. My factory price for one set was twelve thousand. The technician advised me not to subsidize like this. I said it was fine, we were all friends. I never expected the slap in the face to come so quickly. Johnson’s message came again. “Send our body measurements to Muniz right away. Don’t delay!” “OK.” I sent the team members’ data files to Muniz. Shortly after, she replied: “Elena, you really are quite the actress.” “Equipment comes in fixed sizes for each model. What do you need body measurements for?” “Making it all fancy to make scamming easier, is that it?”

I didn’t reply. Someone who dared sell equipment for less than two hundred dollars—explaining to her would be a waste of breath. Then the group messages started again. Muniz: [Elena wants your body measurements to put on a show and tearfully earn a thousand. Actually, this data is completely useless.] Verna: [We don’t really understand this stuff either. We just believed whatever she said.] Johnson: [If it weren’t for Muniz, who knows how long we would’ve kept getting scammed.] Diallo: [Thanks, Muniz. You just joined and you’re already so real with us, unlike certain people.] I muted the group chat notifications and pulled up a message on WhatsApp that I hadn’t replied to. It was from Pratt, the captain of another rock climbing team. They used to always place first, but ever since I joined Johnson’s team and provided equipment, Pratt’s team had been stuck in second place. Pratt had contacted me many times. “Elena, I’ve looked everywhere on the market and can’t find equipment like yours.” “Can you give me a purchasing channel? I won’t let you help for nothing.” Yesterday, he somehow found out that I was the CEO of UP. “Miss Elena, could you also make a few sets of that kind of equipment for us? Name your price!” I hadn’t replied. Special customization was time-consuming and labor-intensive. If I took their order, I wouldn’t be able to finish our team’s in time. Now, I opened Pratt’s chat window. “Nineteen hundred a set. Ordering?” Pratt replied instantly: “Seven sets!” Right after, a transfer notification came through. A hundred and forty thousand. The seven thousand two hundred I’d just refunded Johnson wasn’t even enough to cover the零头. In the team group, Johnson @ mentioned me. “Elena, why haven’t you paid Muniz to order equipment yet?” “The competition is coming up soon. Don’t delay things!” I replied: “I have my own equipment. I don’t need to order from her.” Muniz sent a wronged emoji. “Is Elena mad at me for taking your business?” “Even if you’re angry with me, you can’t affect the team. We’re a unit. It’ll look so uncoordinated if you’re wearing different equipment from everyone else.” Johnson sent a message: “If you’re only thinking about yourself and have zero team spirit, then quit the team.” Before I could say anything, Johnson kicked me out. I looked at the “You have been removed from the group chat” notification and gently locked my screen. It didn’t matter. I couldn’t possibly use two-hundred-dollar stuff for rock climbing just to fit in, could I? I valued my life. Pratt quickly compiled his team members’ body measurements and sent them to me. “Thank you. But won’t your teammates be angry?” “No, I just got kicked out of the team.” Right after I sent the message, Pratt pulled me into their rock climbing group. “Elena’s joining us! Everyone welcome her!” I sent a “?” Pratt said: “I was afraid you’d refuse, so I acted first.” I laughed. The group was buzzing with enthusiasm. “Elena, you’re finally here! Do you know how long we’ve envied your team’s equipment?” “I knew there was something special about Johnson’s equipment—it looked so comfortable, fit perfectly. Turns out it was custom-made!” “I went everywhere trying to find the same kind and couldn’t find it anywhere!” “How did they kick you out?” I said: “Because a new member is providing them with two-hundred-dollar equipment sets, and they think I’m a scam artist.”

Everyone couldn’t help but laugh. “Two hundred a set? And they dare use that?” “When I first started, I saw that kind of stuff. Those carabiners aren’t as sturdy as wire. Pure scams targeting beginners. Using that stuff for rock climbing—aren’t they afraid of falling to their deaths?” “We’re guaranteed to win this time. The sponsors should keep investing in us!” Ever since Johnson’s team started winning first place every time, all the advertisers who used to sponsor Pratt’s team had left. Rock climbing competitions had high viewership, and each advertising sponsorship was worth three hundred thousand. Over these years, Johnson had gone from a working-class guy who had to grit his teeth to buy three-thousand-dollar equipment to quitting his job and earning five figures a month from competitions alone. That’s why he was so eager to kick me out. Three hundred thousand—one less person meant he could get a bigger share. Before I knew it, competition day arrived. At the team assembly point, Johnson and the others were waiting for Muniz to deliver the equipment. I drove up to the assembly point with equipment loaded in my car. As soon as I opened the trunk, Johnson ran over to stop me. “What are you doing, Elena? Didn’t we say we don’t want your equipment? Are you still trying to force a sale?” “Aren’t you done making dirty money? You can’t sell your stuff without us, can you?” Verna frowned too. “Elena, your behavior is really ugly.” Diallo pursed his lips. “Still trying to make us your suckers, huh?” I said expressionlessly, “I’m here to compete. This equipment isn’t for you.” Johnson looked completely annoyed. “Compete? You’re not part of our team anymore!” “Our sponsorship and prize money have nothing to do with you!” “I’m going to tell the referee right now that you’re not a member of our team. Don’t even try it!” “Hurry up and take your stuff back home!” Pratt ran over with his team members and pushed Johnson aside. “Elena is our team member. It’s not your place to boss her around.” The team members helped me unload the equipment from the car and distributed the bags with their names on them. “Damn, this feels different!” “How is this helmet so light yet so sturdy?” “These shoes are so comfortable!” Johnson and the others looked embarrassed, but finally turned away with a sneer. “A bunch of idiots. Getting sold out and helping count the money.” Just then, Muniz’s car pulled up. She opened her trunk and called to everyone: “Come get your equipment!” Johnson and the others grabbed their gear while shooting us sideways glances. “Sigh, some suckers are going to be biting their teeth and crying when they see we bought our equipment for two hundred, right?” Diallo laughed out loud. “Captain, why are you provoking them? What if they cry so hard they can’t climb?” Verna covered her mouth. “No, they’ll lose the strength to climb from beating up Elena.” Diallo picked up the bag with her name on it. “So light and convenient, even lighter than our old equipment!” Johnson eagerly went to unzip it. Muniz raised her eyebrows smugly. “What I’m giving you is the best—” Before she could finish, Johnson’s incredulous voice rang out. “What the hell is this pile of crap!”

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I’d broken up with Ethan six times, and every single time it was because of Mara. To support this bankrupt heiress and her extravagant lifestyle, he’d always sneak behind my back to fight in illegal underground matches, trading his life for money. Every time I steeled myself to break things off, he’d kneel before me, eyes red, swearing it was the last time. Seeing him covered in bruises, I’d soften every single time. Today was supposed to be the day we met each other’s parents and set our wedding date. I sat in the private dining room, enduring judgmental looks from relatives, waiting from noon until dark. Ethan never showed up. It wasn’t until ten at night that I got a call from his buddy, Marcus. “Gianna, Ethan went to fight again. He’s in the emergency room right now, you need to—” I cut him off. “Let me guess. For Mara again?” Marcus stammered an explanation. “Mara had her eye on some limited edition bag…” Through the phone, I could hear chaos on his end, and faintly, Mara calling out Ethan’s name. Suddenly I felt so tired. This endless cycle of boundary-crossing and breaking up and getting back together—it was like torture with no end in sight. I closed my eyes and spoke calmly into the phone. “I’m not coming. Tell him we’re completely done this time.”

My mom looked at me and sighed with heartache. “Breaking up is for the best.” “Our family isn’t afraid of embarrassment. It’s better than you living in constant anxiety for the rest of your life.” I held back tears and nodded. “Mom, you and Dad should head home. Don’t worry about me.” “I just need to take care of a few things.” After seeing my parents off, I sat alone in the empty private room. My phone screen lit up. It was a video from Mara, just over ten seconds long. In the footage, Ethan lay in a hospital bed, face bruised and swollen, looking pathetic and weak. He forced the corner of his mouth into a smile. “Why are you crying?” “I told you I’d get you what I promised, didn’t I? When have I ever broken my word?” The video cut off abruptly. Right after, Mara sent a text message. [Ethan’s awake now, and he got me the bag too. Don’t be mad at him, and don’t worry, okay?] I didn’t reply. I just locked my screen. Half an hour later, I returned to the apartment Ethan and I rented together. I pulled my suitcase out from under the bed and started packing. When I opened the bottom drawer of the closet, my hand froze. There sat a cheap trophy Ethan had won from his underground fights. Looking at it, I suddenly felt dizzy with memories. I thought back to two years ago. The first time he snuck off to that underground fight club without telling me, I found out and completely broke down. I told him we were done. That night, it rained hard. Ethan, his body covered in injuries, blocked the entrance to my rental apartment and refused to leave no matter how much I tried to make him go. I told him coldly I’d never forgive him. He panicked so badly his eyes turned red, and then he actually passed out at my feet. I was terrified, shaking all over, holding his unconscious body and crying so hard I couldn’t breathe. I thought I was really going to lose him. That fear of losing the person I loved most made me surrender completely. Later came the second time, the third time… “Bzz bzz bzz—” My phone’s vibration pulled me out of the memory. It was Ethan calling. “Gianna, I bet I scared you. I’m fine, just some superficial wounds.” “Marcus is such a drama queen. The doctor said I just need to stay for observation for a couple days and I’ll be good.” “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it today. Your parents must be really upset, right?” I made a neutral sound of acknowledgment. Hearing that I wasn’t crying and making a scene like usual, he sounded relieved. “But hey, I want to discuss something with you.” “About our wedding—could we maybe push it back a couple years?” He paused, seeming to choose his words carefully. “Mara was just in my hospital room telling me all her old friends recently bought cars, and she wants one too.” “So I transferred her the money we’d been saving for the wedding.” When I didn’t respond, his tone became coaxing. “You know Mara’s family did so much for me. I’ve always treated her like a real sister.” “Her family went bankrupt. If I can help her, of course I have to…” He kept rambling on the other end about how deeply loyal and righteous he was. If this had been before, hearing those words would have made me scream myself hoarse demanding answers. What am I to you then? What about my youth and my dignity? But now, I didn’t even have the desire to argue. I spoke flatly. “You can do whatever you want.” On the other end, Ethan’s voice couldn’t hide his joy. “Gianna, I knew you were the best.” “You were so quiet just now, I thought you were going to break up with me again. You scared me to death.” I smiled slightly. “I won’t. I’ll never fight with you again.” Suddenly his tone turned serious. “Gianna, trust me, this is the last time I’ll ever fight.” “I’ll never let you suffer even the slightest grievance again. Even though we’re postponing the wedding, I swear I’ll give you the most spectacular wedding in the entire city and marry you with all the honor you deserve…”

I listened quietly. He’d said the same words too many times over these five years. The first time I heard them, I was moved to tears. But now my heart was like a dry well that couldn’t even produce an echo. Just as he was painting our future with passionate promises, I heard the hospital room door being pushed open on his end. Then came Mara’s excited voice. “Ethan! Marcus just brought my car back! It’s downstairs right now, and it’s super cool!” “Come on, come downstairs with me to see it, please?” Ethan’s heartfelt confession to me stopped abruptly, and his tone immediately switched to indulgent. “I just got stitches… Fine, fine, fine. Let me throw on some clothes and I’ll go with you. Stop pulling.” I didn’t keep listening. I hung up directly. Actually, Ethan and I weren’t always like this. When we first got together, Mara didn’t even exist in my world. It wasn’t until two years ago, when the Morrison family went bankrupt and Mara was forced to return from abroad. That’s when I learned Ethan was an orphan who’d grown up with the Morrison family’s support. In Ethan’s heart, Mara wasn’t just an ordinary sister—she was a benefactor he had to repay with his life. This debt of gratitude was like an insurmountable mountain, making our relationship a dead end from the start. I took a deep breath, picked up my phone, and called my university advisor. “Professor Wilson, that position you mentioned before—the one at the Iceland polar observation station—is it still available?” The professor’s voice was serious. “The position is still open.” “But I need to remind you again—it’s highly classified. Once you’re in, you can’t return home for at least three years. Are you willing to accept that?” I said firmly, “I’m willing.” The professor paused for two seconds and sighed. “You refused so adamantly before. Did you break up with that guy?” I made an affirmative sound, my eyes stinging slightly. “We broke up.” I was just pulling my suitcase out of the building when headlights swept over me. A brand-new car pulled up by the curb. The window rolled down. Mara’s eyes swept over my suitcase, and she smiled with raised eyebrows. “What, running away from home in the middle of the night?” I smiled back. “If I don’t leave, how will I make room for you?” Mara pushed open the car door and stepped out. “Don’t make it sound like I’m the other woman. That’s pretty funny.” “Ethan willingly gives me his money to spend. What can I do about it?” She paused deliberately. “Actually, you’re pretty pitiful. You know that?” “One time when Ethan was drunk, he told me that if I weren’t the high-and-mighty Morrison family heiress and he weren’t the poor kid they supported—” “If he hadn’t felt the class difference was too vast to dare reach for me, he never would have settled for someone else.” “So don’t really think of yourself as the main wife.” “If I actually wanted to compete with you, what chance would you have?” The night wind blew past, tousling my long hair. Hearing these words, I didn’t feel sad at all. I only felt how absurd these five years had been. I smiled faintly. “Then I wish you two a long and happy life together. May you be locked together forever.” My reaction made Mara freeze. It gave her the frustrating feeling of punching cotton. Seeing me about to leave, she grabbed the strap of my suitcase. “Wait, who said you could leave now?” “If you leave, Ethan’s still lying in the hospital. I’m not going to take care of him. You need to go look after him.” I looked at her hand gripping my suitcase. “Let go.” Not only did Mara not let go, she actually pulled out her phone and video-called Ethan. “Ethan… did I make Gianna mad again?” “I just wanted to show her the new car, but she’s pulling her suitcase and insisting on leaving. She won’t even go to the hospital to see you. I can’t stop her…”

On the screen, Ethan had gauze wrapped around his head, his face pale. After hearing Mara’s words, he didn’t ask why I was out on the street with a suitcase in the middle of the night. He didn’t ask if I was cold. He frowned, his tone helpless. “Gianna, what are you throwing a fit about now? We were just fine on the phone earlier.” “Don’t make things difficult for Mara. Just come to the hospital.” I stood in the night wind, about to turn and leave, when I suddenly remembered what Professor Wilson had told me. “The security clearance for the Iceland polar project is very strict. First thing tomorrow morning, you must bring your original passport and ID to the dean’s office to process everything.” All my important documents, including my passport, were with Ethan. Because today was supposed to be when we met each other’s parents and set our wedding date, with plans to go to the civil affairs bureau first thing tomorrow morning to register our marriage. Last night, I’d put all my documents together in his personal bag. That bag was sitting on the bedside table in his hospital emergency room. I looked at Ethan on the screen. “Okay.” “I’ll come to the hospital right now.” Half an hour later, I arrived on the third floor of the inpatient building. Just as I was about to push the door open, I heard Marcus’s voice inside. “Ethan, you really went too far this time.” “That was the down payment money for you and Gianna’s wedding, and you spent it all on a car for Mara?” “You stood up Gianna’s parents today. Aren’t you afraid Gianna will really be heartbroken this time and break up with you for good?” “We’ve all seen how good Gianna’s been to you these past five years.” My hand froze in midair. Through the crack in the door, Ethan was silent for two seconds, then his confident voice came through. “She won’t break up with me.” “Five years—with this many years of history between us, how could it end so easily?” “You know Gianna. She’s so soft-hearted. Every time we fight, as long as I apologize, she comes back on her own.” “I’ll wait a couple days until I’m discharged, buy her a gift and really make it up to her, and this whole thing will blow over.” Marcus sighed. “But Ethan, you’re giving Mara way too much, aren’t you?” “What woman could stand her husband taking care of another woman with no boundaries? What are you even thinking?” Ethan’s tone suddenly became serious. “How can you compare the two?” “Mara’s family went bankrupt. She has nothing left.” “I said I’d take care of her for life, so there’s no way I’m abandoning her. This is a debt I owe her. I have to repay it.” He paused, then softened his tone slightly. “Gianna’s understanding and reasonable. After we get married, I’ll be twice as good to her. Worst case, I’ll make it up to her in other ways.” “But with Mara, I can never let her go for the rest of my life. Gianna will get used to it eventually.” Just then, Mara’s pampered voice suddenly rang out from behind me. “Hey! What are you doing standing at the door?” The conversation in the hospital room stopped abruptly. Ethan in the bed jerked his head up. When he saw clearly that it was me standing outside the door, panic filled his face. “Gianna, when did you get here? Let me expl—” I cut him off. “No need to explain.” “Ethan, I’ve heard enough of your explanations. I’m sick of them.” Ethan’s face went white. “Gianna, stop making a scene, okay? What I just said to Marcus—we were just talking.” “And didn’t I already tell you? This is the last time. From now on I’ll definitely—” I pulled at the corner of my mouth. “The last time?” “How many times have you told me it’s the last time?” “You’ve been lying to me all along. You never planned to cut ties with her. You’ve just been testing me over and over, forcing me to slowly accept this twisted relationship between you two, right?” Ethan’s expression changed. His lips moved but he couldn’t come up with a rebuttal. My eyes felt swollen. “Ethan, every single time you went to those underground fights, I couldn’t close my eyes all night long!” “I sat there clutching my phone, terrified of getting a call from the hospital, terrified that one day you’d die in that octagon cage!” “But did you ever think about me? Even once, did you think about me waiting for you at home?” Ethan urgently raised his voice. “Nothing’s going to happen to me!” “I know what I’m doing. I always come back in one piece. Look, I’m fine, aren’t I?” I laughed once. “Fine?” “Then let me ask you, Ethan.” “Even if we get married, even if we have children someday—as long as Mara says the word, as long as she wants something, you’ll still go behind my back to those places and risk your life to earn money for her, won’t you?” Ethan fell silent, lowering his head, not daring to look at me. I looked away. “Give me that black bag on your bedside table.” Ethan froze. “What do you need the bag for? Gianna, what are you trying to do?” “Give it to me!” Seeing the situation, Marcus quickly turned and handed me the bag. I unzipped it, took out my ID and passport, and turned to leave. The next morning at nine o’clock, I stood punctually in Professor Wilson’s office. “You’re sure? Once you hand over these documents and the process starts, you can’t go back.” I said firmly, “I’m sure. I won’t regret it.” … Three days later. Ethan, with thick bandages on his head, pushed open the apartment door. He’d bought a bouquet of lisianthus from the flower shop downstairs, planning to apologize and humble himself like he had every other time. “Gianna, I’m discharged. I brought you…” The apartment was completely silent. No one answered. He frowned and changed his shoes, walking into the bedroom. “Still mad? I came straight here after discharge to make it up to you…” His voice stopped abruptly the moment he opened the closet door.

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I sat in the passenger seat and the driver told me I wasn’t cut out to be the lady of the house. My husband couldn’t get away from his meeting, so he sent the family driver to pick me up. I had just opened the passenger door and sat down when Jackson, the driver, frowned. “Ma’am, please sit in the back.” Thinking he meant well, I smiled and said, “It’s fine. There’s more space up front. I’m not picky.” To my surprise, he turned off the engine. “Not everyone is qualified to sit in this seat.” I froze. “It’s just a passenger seat. What’s the big deal?” Jackson glanced at me through the rearview mirror. “Mr. Smith’s former fiancée always sat here.” “She was gentle and considerate, never spent his money recklessly.” “Unlike some people. Married in for three years and can’t even produce a child.” I was so angry I laughed. I’d been married to Ethan Smith for three years. I bought the car, and I paid the driver’s salary. And here he was, taking my money while guarding the passenger seat for some woman I’d never even met.

I stared at Jackson. “What did you just say?” Jackson’s mouth turned down at the corners. “Ma’am, I was just speaking casually. Don’t be so sensitive.” I unbuckled my seatbelt. “You’re a driver. Since when do you get to tell me where to sit or comment on whether I have children?” Jackson said nothing. He rolled down the window and lit a cigarette. “I don’t like the smell of smoke. Put it out.” Jackson exhaled a puff of smoke. “Mr. Smith never minded these things. Miss Sullivan never made a fuss like you do when she rode in the car.” “Which Miss Sullivan?” “Susan Sullivan. Mr. Smith’s ex-girlfriend. If she hadn’t gone abroad, you wouldn’t have had your chance.” I pulled out my phone and called Ethan. “Vivian, did Jackson pick you up?” I looked at Jackson. “He did. But he says the passenger seat is reserved for your former fiancée and I’m not worthy of sitting there.” Ethan paused. “What former fiancée?” Jackson immediately turned around. “Mr. Smith, that’s not what I meant!” I put the call on speaker. Ethan’s voice turned cold. “Jackson, explain yourself clearly.” Jackson quickly changed his tone. “Mr. Smith, Mrs. Smith misunderstood. I was just worried the passenger seat wasn’t safe, so I asked her to sit in the back. As for Miss Sullivan, I only mentioned her in passing. Nothing more.” Ethan spoke up. “Vivian, don’t be upset. I’ll have Assistant Blaise come pick you up right away.” “No need.” I pushed open the car door. “I’ll take a cab myself.” “The meeting ends in ten minutes. I’ll come find you.” Jackson quickly got out of the car. “Ma’am, it’s blazing hot out here. Don’t throw a tantrum. If you leave on your own, Mr. Smith will think I bullied you.” “Didn’t you?” He choked on his words. He lowered his voice. “Ma’am, don’t be so difficult.” “I’ve been driving for the Smith family for eight years. The old master used me when he was alive.” “How many years have you been married in?” I nodded. “Fine.” “You don’t need to do this job today.” Jackson’s face darkened. “What do you mean?” “Starting now, you’re fired.” He let out a scoffing laugh. “Mr. Smith pays my salary.” “You think you can fire me just like that?” I waved my phone. “The salary comes from my personal account.” “I bought this car before I got married.” “Do you still think I’m not qualified?” Jackson’s expression changed. He laughed coldly. “Ma’am, don’t use money to push people around.” “Mr. Smith values loyalty. He won’t fire me just because of one word from you.” “If you make a scene like this, people will just say you can’t tolerate the Smith family’s old employees.” “Let them say it then.” I turned and walked toward the roadside. Jackson drove the car after me. “Ma’am, get in the car.” “If something happens to you in this heat, I can’t bear the responsibility when Mr. Smith blames me.” I ignored him. He suddenly swerved the car and stopped in front of me. I nearly crashed into the hood. “Jackson, what do you think you’re doing?” Jackson Hill’s face was stern. “Nothing much.” “Just asking Mrs. Smith to get in the car.” “Don’t make this difficult for me.” I took out my phone to call the police. Ethan’s call came through. Just as I pressed answer, Jackson got out of the car and grabbed my wrist. “Ma’am, that’s enough. A woman crying and making a scene on the street—aren’t you embarrassed?” I shook him off forcefully. “Touch me one more time and see what happens!” A black business car screeched to a halt at the roadside. Ethan got out and strode over quickly. Jackson immediately let go. “Mr. Smith, thank goodness you’re here.” “Mrs. Smith insisted on getting out of the car. I tried everything to persuade her.” “She even said she’d fire me.” “I was just afraid something would happen to her, so I stopped her.” Ethan walked to my side and held my wrist. There was a red mark where it had been grabbed. Ethan’s eyes turned completely cold. “Jackson.” “Who gave you permission to touch her?” Jackson panicked. “Mr. Smith, I really didn’t mean to.” “Mrs. Smith lost her temper. I was afraid she’d run off.” I pulled my hand back. “Ethan, I don’t want to see him again.” Ethan nodded. “Alright.” Jackson became anxious. “Mr. Smith!” “I’ve driven for the Smith family for eight years. Even if I haven’t achieved much, I’ve worked hard, haven’t I?” “Are you really going to fire me just because of a few words from Mrs. Smith?” “It’s not just a few words.” Ethan’s gaze was extremely heavy. “You crossed the line.” Jackson stared at me intently.

Early the next morning, property management called. “Ms. White, Mr. Hill brought a young woman to the underground garage.” “She says Mr. Smith approved it—they’re here to get something from your parking space.” I was instantly awake. “What young woman?” “She says her name is Sophia Hill, Mr. Hill’s niece. She claims Mr. Smith agreed to let her use your car.” “Tell them to wait.” I changed clothes and went downstairs. Level B2. Jackson was standing next to my Bentley. Next to him was a curly-haired girl in her early twenties. She was taking photos of the car with her phone. Jackson was all smiles. “Sophia, stand by the hood.” “You’ll be driving this car to and from work from now on. Take a couple photos to post on social media.” I walked up. “Who said this car is hers to drive?” Sophia looked me up and down. “You must be Mrs. Smith?” “My uncle told me Mr. Smith agreed to take care of me. I just got to Harbor City and it’s inconvenient.” I looked at Jackson. “You were already fired yesterday. How dare you bring someone here today?” Jackson looked uncomfortable. “Ma’am, don’t speak so absolutely.” “Mr. Smith called me last night and told me to rest for a few days.” “Ethan said that himself?” Jackson’s eyes darted away. “Mr. Smith is busy, he didn’t say it so directly.” “But I’ve worked for him for years. I understand what he means.” I took out my phone to make a call. Sophia stepped in front of me. “Is this really necessary?” “I’m borrowing the car for a few days, it’s not like I’m trying to kill you.” “A nice car sitting there doing nothing—what’s wrong with letting me drive it?” “Do you have a driver’s license?” Sophia rolled her eyes. “Obviously.” “I just haven’t gotten a license plate number yet.” I held out my hand. “Show me your license.” “What are you, taking a census?” Jackson stepped in front of her protectively. “Ma’am, Sophia just graduated. She’s thin-skinned. Don’t be so aggressive.” “She has an interview at Smith Corporation in a couple days.” “She’ll be working under Mr. Smith in the future. It’s not good for you to offend her now.” I stared at him. “Not only driving my car, but you want to get her into Smith Corporation?” Sophia sneered. “My uncle worked for the Smith family all these years. What’s wrong with him recommending someone for a job?” “Mr. Smith needs an assistant who knows how to take care of him.” “Does Ethan know you want to be his assistant?” Sophia tossed her hair. “He doesn’t know now, but he will eventually.” “Men can’t just look at the same woman their whole lives, you know.” Several car owners stopped in their tracks. Jackson’s voice immediately rose. “Ma’am, I know you look down on us poor relatives.” “Sophia just wants to borrow the car for an interview. There’s no need to humiliate her.” Sophia’s eyes reddened. “Uncle, I told you not to come.” “Rich wives like her could never respect people like us.” The property manager stepped forward. “Ms. White, should I ask them to leave?” “Please do.” Jackson stood in front of the car. “I’d like to see who dares move me.” “I used to manage this car. The keys are with me too.” He pulled out a spare key and pressed it. The car lights flashed. My face darkened. I had never given him this key. “Where did you get the key?” Jackson gripped the key tightly. “Mr. Smith gave it to me.” “Call the police.” Sophia screamed. “Who are you trying to scare!” “My uncle drove for your family. What’s wrong with having a key?” “Just because you’re rich doesn’t mean you can bully honest people!” The property manager took out his phone. Jackson suddenly fell backward. “Ow!” “My back!” “Ma’am, why did you push me!” Sophia rushed over, holding up her phone to record. “Everyone come look!” “A rich wife bullying people, she pushed my uncle down!” Jackson clutched his back and groaned. “My back’s been bad. If I’m paralyzed, Mrs. Smith will have to support me for life!”

Sophia held up her phone. “Don’t you dare leave!” “We need to get to the bottom of this today!” “I’m not planning to leave. I’m waiting for the police.” Jackson groaned even louder. “It hurts so much.” “Sophia, call an ambulance quick.” “If something happens to your uncle, you have to get justice for me.” Sophia burst into tears. “Uncle, don’t scare me.” She turned and shouted. “My uncle has worked like a dog for the Smith family for eight years, and you still bully him like this!” “Do rich people get to hit whoever they want?” “I didn’t touch him.” Sophia shoved the camera in my face. “Everyone listen to this—she still won’t admit it!” “My uncle is lying on the ground and she says she didn’t touch him!” Several aunties who regularly walked their dogs in the complex came over. Auntie Zoe in the purple jacket immediately called out. “Mr. Hill, what happened?” Jackson looked as if he’d seen his savior. “Zoe, I’m alright.” “Mrs. Smith fired me, wouldn’t let my niece borrow the car, and then she pushed me.” Auntie Zoe glared at me. “Young lady, you can’t be so excessive.” “Mr. Hill is so nice normally. He even helps us carry packages when it rains.” Another auntie chimed in. “He always says your Mrs. Smith has a bad temper. I didn’t believe it, but now I see it’s true.” I looked at Jackson. “Is this how you’ve been spreading rumors in the complex?” Jackson kept his head down. “I haven’t said anything bad about you.” “I occasionally chat with the neighbors and mention that you’re young and don’t know how to be considerate.” Auntie Zoe immediately backed him up. “And you still won’t admit it?” “Mr. Hill said you don’t even give him a cup of hot tea at home.” “You often make him buy things in the middle of the night.” “He’s getting on in years. How easy do you think it is for him?” “He’s a driver, not my father.” “I pay him. I didn’t hire him to retire on my dime.” The aunties instantly exploded. “How can you speak so harshly!” “No wonder Mr. Hill says you have no manners.” “That Miss Sullivan from before was so gentle and filial.” “You know Susan Sullivan?” Auntie Zoe pursed her lips. “Mr. Hill showed us photos.” “Now she’s the type who gets married and has children properly.” “Not like you, all flashy and dressed up. Anyone can tell you’re not the type to run a household.” Sophia turned the camera toward the aunties. “Aunties, speak up for justice.” “Hasn’t my uncle been dedicated and loyal to the Smith family?” Auntie Zoe nodded. “Of course. Mr. Hill is honest and upright. He’d never lie.” Sophia shouted at the phone. “Did everyone hear that?” “Even the neighbors know how Mrs. Smith usually mistreats old employees.” I realized what was happening. She was livestreaming. I reached out to block the camera. Sophia screamed. “She’s hitting someone!” “She’s going to hit me again!” The aunties immediately surrounded me. “Don’t get physical!” “We’re all watching!” I was trapped in the middle. The property manager tried to pull people away, but Auntie Zoe blocked him. “Property management can’t play favorites!” “Rich people bullying others, and you’re helping them too?” I called Ethan. No answer. Sophia smiled triumphantly. “Calling Mr. Smith to intimidate us?” “Men hate it when women make unreasonable scenes.” She lowered her voice. “Vivian White, don’t think you’re secure just because you married Mr. Smith.” “My uncle says Mr. Smith’s always had Susan in his heart.” “You’re just occupying a position.” “Your uncle said that?” Sophia’s expression flickered. Jackson immediately shouted. “Sophia, stop talking to her.” “Let the online viewers judge!” Sophia read the comments loudly. “Someone says rich people are disgusting.” “Someone else suggests investigating whether this woman was a homewrecker.” “Vivian White, do you dare say you didn’t steal Susan’s position?” The onlookers got even more excited. “She’s a mistress?” “No wonder she’s so arrogant.” “Stealing someone else’s man and then bullying old employees—truly shameless.” “I met Ethan when he was single. I didn’t interfere with anyone.” Jackson lay on the ground with a sinister smile. “Ma’am, don’t speak so absolutely.” “Mr. Smith gave you face by not bringing up certain things. You should know better.” The looks from everyone around me changed completely. Sophia seized the opportunity. “Did everyone hear that? Even the Smith family’s old employees are saying it! She used schemes to marry in!” “Jackson, I’m giving you one last chance. End the livestream, apologize, and hand over the keys. Otherwise I will sue you until you lose everything.” I said angrily.

Jackson sat up from the ground. “Ma’am, who are you trying to scare?” “Everyone here saw it.” “You pushed me. You’re abusing your power.” “You say you’ll sue me—where’s your evidence?” The support pillar happened to block the fixed surveillance camera. This was premeditated. The police arrived. Sophia’s livestream was still on. She cried pitifully. “Officers, you have to help us.” “My uncle wanted to get his own things back, and she pushed him down.” “She even threatened that we won’t be able to survive in Harbor City.” Jackson held his back, supported by two aunties. “I didn’t want to make a big deal out of this. A working person can’t afford to offend the Smith family.” “But she’s gone too far.” The police looked at me. “Is this accurate?” “No, it’s not.” I pointed at Jackson. “He was already fired yesterday. Today he came to my parking space with someone without permission.” “He has my spare car key and wanted to lend the car to his niece.” “I didn’t push him. He’s faking an injury.” Sophia yelled. “Lies!” “That key belonged to my uncle all along!” “I’m the car owner. How could the key be his?” Jackson quickly jumped in. “Mr. Smith asked me to keep it. I drive for the Smith family—it’s normal for me to have a key.” The police verified the electronic vehicle registration. “Do you have authorization from the owner?” Jackson stammered. “Mr. Smith authorized it.” “Do you have written proof?” “No.” Sophia quickly added. “Mr. Smith said it verbally.” I laughed coldly. “Then let’s wait for Ethan.” Footsteps came from the elevator. Ethan and Blaise walked over quickly. He pushed through the crowd and pulled me behind him. “Are you hurt?” I shook my head. Sophia’s eyes lit up as she hurried forward. “Mr. Smith, I’m Sophia Hill. My uncle often mentions you.” Ethan stared at Jackson. “Was I not clear enough yesterday?” Jackson’s face paled. “Mr. Smith, I know you were angry.” “I came today to get some things. I didn’t expect Mrs. Smith to push me.” Ethan’s voice was ice cold. “You’re certain she pushed you?” Jackson gritted his teeth. “Certain.” Sophia nodded along. “I saw it with my own eyes.” The aunties all chimed in. “We saw Mr. Hill lying on the ground too.” “This young woman is too aggressive. She even said she’d sue people until they lost everything.” Ethan glanced at them. Auntie Zoe muttered. “Having money doesn’t mean you can silence everyone. The people have eyes.” Ethan took a tablet from Blaise. “The underground garage surveillance has already been pulled.” Jackson’s eyelid twitched. Sophia tried to stand tall. “Pull it then.” “The pillar’s blocking it anyway. Who knows if it caught anything.” Ethan looked up. “How did you know the pillar was blocking it?” Sophia’s face went white. “I just saw it.” “So you already picked out the location?” Jackson cut her off sharply. “Shut up!” Ethan handed the tablet to the police. “The fixed camera really can’t capture everything.” Jackson relaxed. Ethan continued. “But the car has special surveillance. All sounds and images were recorded crystal clear.”

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Lily, my husband Ethan’s secretary, sent me a photo. In the photo, my husband was sound asleep, covered with my coat. The caption read: “Emma, Ethan had too much to drink. He’s staying at my place tonight.” I stared at the photo for three seconds, then smiled. With a light tap of my finger, I screenshotted the photo and chat record, then sent them both to the company’s group chat of nearly a thousand employees. “Congratulations to Lily on her successful promotion to CEO’s wife.” Send. Power off. All in one smooth motion. Two days later when I turned my phone back on, hundreds of missed calls nearly crashed it. In the photo, my husband Ethan was sleeping peacefully, his profile pressed against the pure white hotel pillow. I stared at that coat. That morning before leaving, I’d personally helped Ethan put it on. I smiled. I didn’t reply, just took a screenshot. Then sent it to the company’s thousand-person work group. “Congratulations to Lily on her successful promotion to CEO’s wife.” Then I turned off my phone. The world went quiet. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows of the living room, the city lights merged into a silent ocean. I walked to the wine cabinet and poured myself a glass of whiskey. Today was our fifth wedding anniversary. On the table sat the custom cake I’d picked up that afternoon. Ethan had called in the afternoon, saying he had an important business dinner he couldn’t skip. He said he’d make it up to me when he got back later. So this was his idea of “important business.” This was how he planned to “make it up to me.” I carried my glass and walked over to the cake. The black swan held its head high, graceful and proud. I reached out a finger and gave it a gentle push. The swan toppled over, falling into the soft cream, its neck broken. What a shame. I drained my glass in one gulp, the burning liquid searing my throat. Perfect. This relationship that had lasted eight years, from campus to wedding dress, from nothing to company IPO. It was time to end it. I walked into the dressing room and pulled out the largest suitcase. Started packing. Mine, I’d take everything. His, I’d leave nothing. Including those matching couple outfits we’d bought together, the expensive jewelry he’d given me, all those mementos symbolizing every bit of our past. One by one, I took them out and threw them into the trash bags beside me. Like I was doing a complete decluttering. Throughout this process, my heart remained completely calm. No tears, no angry screaming. Like a surgeon performing an incredibly composed operation on herself. Cutting away the necrotic tissue. Though it would hurt, it had to be done. Two hours later, the suitcase was full. Three large trash bags were piled beside it. The 24-hour moving company I’d booked arrived promptly at 3 AM. The workers silently and efficiently loaded my things onto the truck. I took one last look at this home I’d personally decorated. On the wall hung our wedding photo. In it, I was smiling blissfully. In it, Ethan’s eyes were so tender they could drip water. I walked over and took the photo down. Then, I let go. Crash. The glass frame shattered across the floor. I said to the movers: “Let’s go.” The vehicle pulled out of the complex and merged into the city traffic. I didn’t look back. My new place was an apartment I’d bought several months ago, keeping it empty all this time. I’d told myself a woman always needs to leave herself an exit. Now it seemed that decision was incredibly correct. By the time I’d settled my luggage, dawn was breaking. I took a hot shower, changed into clean pajamas, and lay down on the unfamiliar bed. Not the slightest bit sleepy. My mind began replaying the entire incident. Lily. Ethan’s secretary, hired a year and a half ago. Young, beautiful, elite university graduate, outstanding abilities. That was how everyone in the company described her. When I’d come to the office to bring Ethan lunch, she’d eagerly approach me, sweetly calling me “Emma.” She’d thoughtfully remember my preferences, brewing my favorite tea before I arrived. She’d subtly display her work chemistry with Ethan in front of me. For instance, Ethan would give her a look and she’d know which document to hand him. Before Ethan finished a sentence, she could immediately complete it. She’d tell me in a joking tone: “Emma, sometimes I feel like I understand Ethan even better than you do.” Back then, I’d just smile it off. I figured a man’s capable work assistant and his life’s soulmate were two different tracks. They didn’t conflict. Now it seemed I’d been naive. Or rather, I’d been too confident. So confident I’d overlooked all those telltale signs. Like how Ethan kept coming home later and later. Like the occasional unfamiliar perfume scent on him. Like how he started reflexively countering some of my decisions using Lily’s phrasing. “Emma, your idea is too idealistic. Lily’s proposal would be more practical.” “Lily said this project is too risky, we should wait and see.” Lily, Lily, Lily. Her name appeared with increasing frequency. And I’d actually kept treating it as normal “work communication.” Until that photo, like a sharp knife, punctured all the fake peace. I closed my eyes, that photo surfacing in my mind again. Ethan’s sleeping face, my coat, and Lily’s provocative caption. Why did she dare do this? She was certain I wouldn’t make a scene. She was certain I’d choose to swallow my grievances for the sake of Ethan’s career, for the company’s stability. She was certain I’d find her privately, or find Ethan, cry, make a fuss, then accept an explanation of “just a mistake all men make.” Then she could continue lurking by Ethan’s side as the victor, until she completely replaced me. Unfortunately, she miscalculated. I, Emma, never make losing deals. Since you want war, I’ll give you the grandest spectacle. Let nearly a thousand people in the entire company witness your love. I don’t know when I finally fell asleep. I only know this sleep was exceptionally deep. No dreams.

Two days later. I slept until I woke naturally. Sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting dappled patterns on the wooden floor. An unfamiliar room, but the air carried my familiar perfume. I sat up and picked up my phone from the nightstand. After two days off, it was time to see how far this storm had blown. Deep breath. I pressed the power button. The phone vibrated once, the screen lit up. After the familiar startup animation, the signal bars instantly filled. Then, my phone went crazy. “Bzz—bzz—bzz—” Violent vibrations, like it would break free from my hand any second. On the screen, missed calls, texts, SnapChat, notifications from various apps flooded in like a burst dam. Hundreds of missed call alerts. Dozens of unread texts. I looked at the call list. At the very top was Ethan. 99 missed calls. Below were company executives, my friends, and some unknown numbers. I put the phone on silent and tossed it aside. Got up and went to the kitchen to make myself a simple breakfast. Fried egg, toast, a glass of hot milk. I ate slowly and methodically. As if the storm that had already turned everything upside down had nothing to do with me. After breakfast, I washed the dishes. Only then did I pick up that burning hot phone again. I ignored all of Ethan’s messages. Instead, I opened the company group chat on SnapChat. Two days was enough time for many things to ferment. The group messages had exploded. The “congratulations” message I’d sent was like a depth charge. Below it was several minutes of dead silence. Then, the first to jump out was the company’s HR director. He sent a shocked emoji, then quickly deleted it. Immediately after, various whispers began appearing. “Holy shit? What’s going on?” “Did Emma’s account get hacked?” “That’s Mr. Brooks in the photo, right?” “My god, this is too much information.” “Did Lily mess up?” After the initial shock, public opinion quickly divided. Some were watching. Some were secretly enjoying the drama. Others began taking sides. A female colleague who was usually close to Lily jumped out saying: “Everyone stop speculating. I believe Lily isn’t that kind of person. There must be some misunderstanding.” Someone immediately echoed: “Exactly. Mr. Brooks and Emma have such a good relationship, how could this happen?” “Maybe Emma was just joking.” These weak defenses were quickly drowned by more details. “Joking? About something like this?” “Are you blind? Didn’t you see Lily’s own text? ‘Staying at my place tonight.’ How could that be fake?” “I always thought something was off about Lily. Always dressing up, her mind clearly not on work.” “Right. At the last project celebration, she kept blocking drinks for Mr. Brooks, got herself wasted, and Mr. Brooks ended up taking her home.” When someone falls from grace, everyone loves to pile on Lily’s carefully cultivated “perfect secretary” image was torn to shreds in this moment. As for the other protagonist of the incident, Lily herself finally appeared about half an hour after I sent my message. She posted a long text in the group. That text was written tearfully, pitifully. “Everyone, I’m sorry for using public resources for my personal matter.” “Last night, Mr. Brooks drank a lot at a business dinner to close an important deal. He could barely stand.” “As Mr. Brooks’s secretary, I have the responsibility and obligation to ensure his safety, so I took him to a nearby hotel to rest.” “Because he’d drunk so much and gotten his clothes a bit dirty, I took off his suit jacket and covered him with a spare coat from my car—one Emma had left at the office before—so he wouldn’t catch cold.” “After I settled him in, I left. I called his home but no one answered.” “In my panic, I remembered Emma’s SnapChat and wanted to let her know.” “That message might have been ambiguous and caused a misunderstanding. I really didn’t mean it that way.” “I don’t know why Emma would send such a message. I’m really scared.” “Mr. Brooks and I are completely innocent, just a normal superior-subordinate relationship. Please don’t misunderstand.” “Emma, if you see this message, please, can you come out and explain?” “I’m a young woman and my reputation is ruined. How can I face people anymore?” At the end, she even @-ed me. What a delicate little hypocrite. This PR piece was written flawlessly. Portraying herself as a diligent, dutiful, yet innocently wronged victim. Throwing all the blame onto me. Saying I “misunderstood,” that I was “making a mountain out of a molehill,” ruining her reputation as a “young woman.” Once this statement came out, the group’s sentiment shifted subtly again. Some clueless “saints” came out to uphold justice. “Oh, so that’s what happened. I knew there must be a misunderstanding.” “Emma was a bit impulsive this time. Posting to the group without asking clearly really hurt Lily.” “Yeah, how can a young woman continue working at the company after this?” “Feel so bad for Lily. Hugs.” Watching these messages, the cold smile on my lips grew wider. Playing the public opinion game? Lily, you’re still too green. Just then, a call came in. The name flashing on the screen made my expression turn cold. Not Ethan. My mother-in-law. I let it ring for a long time, only pressing accept in the last second before it would auto-disconnect. “Hello.” My voice betrayed no emotion. On the other end, my mother-in-law’s shrill, furious roar immediately came through. “Emma! You finally answer! Have you lost your mind! What do you think you’re doing!”

“Are you trying to destroy Ethan!” My mother-in-law’s voice, from extreme anger, carried a hoarse crack. In the background, I could hear the sound of things being smashed. I held the phone away a bit, my tone flat. “Mrs. Brooks, I don’t understand what you’re talking about.” “Still playing dumb with me!” My mother-in-law’s volume shot up another octave. “Look what you’ve done! Now the whole company knows!” “Where can Ethan show his face! What about the company’s stock price! You vicious woman!” I listened silently without interrupting. When she tired herself out from cursing and was gasping for breath, I spoke unhurriedly. “Mrs. Brooks, you should ask your precious son what he did.” “What could he have done! A man having too much to drink at business dinners, isn’t that normal?” “That girl Lily was kind enough to take care of him, and instead of being grateful, you turn around and bite her! Where are your manners!” “My manners don’t allow my husband to spend our wedding anniversary night at another woman’s place.” I enunciated each word clearly. “And I certainly don’t allow that woman to cover him with a coat I bought, then take a photo and send it to me to show off.” There were a few seconds of silence on the other end. Then my mother-in-law’s tone shifted from anger to a kind of righteous favoritism. “So what! Men, they just play along sometimes! Did you have to make such a huge scene that everyone knows? Can’t you just endure it for Ethan’s future, for this family?” “Endure?” I sounded like I’d heard the biggest joke. “Mrs. Brooks, that’s not how the world works anymore.” “You! What kind of attitude is that!” My mother-in-law was clearly choked by my words. “Emma, let me tell you, the Brooks family will never accept an unclear woman into our family!” “You need to go to the company right now, explain to everyone in the group that it was just a joke! Then apologize to Lily, and this matter is over!” “Apologize?” The curve of my lips turned colder. “Is she worthy?” “You ungrateful woman! Don’t think Ethan can’t do without you! Let me tell you, there are plenty of women who want to marry our Ethan! Younger than you, prettier than you, more sensible!” “That’s wonderful.” I replied lightly. “Please have him switch to someone else quickly. I won’t hold him up.” “You just wait! I’ll have Ethan divorce you right now! A woman like you should leave with nothing!” “Great.” I said. “I’ll be waiting for the court summons.” With that, I hung up directly. Then blocked her. All in one smooth motion. Making peace, twisting the truth, always only protecting her son. That was my wonderful mother-in-law. I’d already experienced it before. The phone vibrated again. This time, it was a familiar friend’s profile picture. I answered. “Emma! You’re finally back online! Are you okay?” On the other end came Madison’s anxious voice. Madison was my college classmate, my best friend, now a senior executive at a headhunting company. “I’m fine.” Hearing her voice, my taut nerves relaxed slightly. “Thank god. You scared me to death! That move was brutal, detonating it directly in the group. The whole circle is talking about it now.” “Ethan’s company must be as lively as a marketplace today.” Madison’s tone carried gleeful excitement. “That’s exactly what I wanted.” “Well done!” Madison didn’t hide her support. “Dealing with scumbags and homewreckers, you can’t go easy!” “But what are you planning to do next? I heard that secretary Lily is no pushover.” “She’s apparently crying all over the office now, telling everyone she’s innocent, that you misunderstood her, making it seem like you’re some evil crazy woman.” “I know. I saw her ‘essay’ in the group.” “So what are you thinking? Just let her twist the truth like that?” Madison sounded worried. I picked up the milk from the table and took a sip. The warm liquid slid into my stomach, very comfortable. “Don’t worry.” I said. “Let her fly for a while.” “The bullet’s already been fired. It needs time to fly and ferment.” In a public opinion war, the worst thing is being led by the nose. If Lily wanted to play the victim and gain sympathy, I’d let her act. The harder she performed, the more pitifully she cried, the more fierce the backlash would be when the truth came out. What I wanted wasn’t a war of words. I wanted to nail her to the pillar of shame, never to rise again. “What about you? What are your plans today? Just staying home?” Madison asked. I looked at the bright sunshine outside the window and spoke slowly. “No.” “I’m going to the office.” “There are some things I need to take back myself.” “And it’s time to meet those two protagonists.” “Yes!” Madison’s tone was excited. “Do you need me to come with you? To back you up! I happen to be free today, can come anytime.” “No need.” I declined her kindness. “This is my battlefield. I’ll handle it myself.” After hanging up, I walked into the bedroom and opened the closet. Inside were clothes I’d newly bought, tags still attached. I picked out a bright red dress. V-neck, cinched waist, slit to the thigh. Paired with ten-centimeter black heels. Then I sat at the vanity and gave myself an exquisite yet sharp makeup look. The focus was bright red lipstick. Full, sharp, with strong aggression. Looking at the radiant woman with cold eyes in the mirror, I smiled with satisfaction. Emma, welcome back. This show had just begun. I grabbed my car keys and headed out. Destination: the office. I wanted to see just how far they’d taken this performance without me, the “evil crazy woman,” present. My car was a white Porsche. A gift from Ethan on the day the company went public. He said it was to thank me for my companionship and contributions along the way. Now it seemed truly ironic. The car drove smoothly toward the CBD in the city center. There stood the business empire he and I had built together. And there waited for me a showdown.

The Porsche pulled into the company garage’s reserved parking spot. I turned off the engine but didn’t immediately get out. I looked at myself in the rearview mirror—red lips like blood, eyes like ice. Perfect. This was the armor and weaponry I needed. I pushed open the door and got out. My heels struck the polished epoxy floor, making crisp “click, click, click” sounds. The sound echoed through the empty underground garage, amplified and clear, like war drums. I entered the elevator and pressed the top floor directly—the CEO’s office level. The elevator doors opened. The familiar reception desk, the familiar logo wall. But today’s atmosphere was completely different. The normally quiet and orderly office area now permeated with an eerie silence. Everyone sat at their workstations, pretending to work diligently. But their wandering eyes, perked ears, and the subtle movements of secretly communicating through office software betrayed them all. The air floated with the scent of gossip and speculation. When I appeared in their view wearing a strikingly red dress. The entire office area seemed to hit pause. All eyes, in an instant, focused on me in unison. Shock, curiosity, sympathy, schadenfreude… Various complex emotions wove into an invisible net, covering me. I ignored it all. I straightened my back, chin slightly raised, eyes looking straight ahead. My target was the office at the end of the corridor, the one belonging to Ethan. The sound of my heels became the only sound in this dead silence. Each step seemed to land on everyone’s hearts. They watched me like watching the lead actress of the year’s biggest drama personally take the stage. I walked past expressionlessly. The closer I got to the CEO’s office, the clearer the whispers became. “Oh my god, Emma really came!” “Dressed like that… is she here to declare war?” “There’s going to be a good show. Quick, quick, open the meeting software, let’s livestream this.” “Lily’s still in Mr. Brooks’s office. Saw her crying when she went in this morning, hasn’t come out.” I listened to these voices, the cold smile on my lips flashing briefly. Perfect. The audience was all in position. I walked to that closed, heavy solid wood door. The door’s soundproofing was excellent, but I could still faintly hear from inside the suppressed, intermittent sound of crying. Lily’s voice. I didn’t knock. Under everyone’s gaze, I raised my hand, directly turned the handle, and forcefully pushed open the door. The moment the door opened, the scene inside clearly entered my view, and also entered the countless pairs of eyes peeking from the corridor. Inside the office, Ethan stood by his desk. And Lily sat on the guest sofa, crying piteously, shoulders shaking. Ethan held a tissue in his hand, his body leaning slightly forward, about to hand it to her. His face was full of irritation and sympathy. Hearing the door open, both looked toward the entrance simultaneously. Seeing me, Lily’s crying stopped abruptly, like a duck with its neck grabbed. Panic flashed quickly through her eyes, then was covered by thicker grievance and tears. And Ethan, the moment he saw me, froze completely. The tissue in his hand just awkwardly stopped in mid-air. The entire office was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, looking at this “touching” scene before me. I smiled, breaking the silence. “Mr. Brooks, busy? I’m not interrupting, am I?”

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I stood by the window, my fingertips tracing the rough fabric of the blackout sleep mask that covered my eyes. Three years. For three years, fumbling through a world of shadows has been my “normal.” It all started with an accident—a flashlight beam caught my younger brother’s eyes while I was looking for a torch during a power outage. He had weak vision back then, a delicate condition. My mother didn’t see it as an accident. She saw it as a calculated strike. Without a word of explanation, she began administering “treatment” to me—unknown dilating drops that stung like acid. “You want to know what it’s like for him?” she had hissed, her voice a jagged blade in the dark. “Fine. If you won’t empathize with your brother, I’ll make sure you have no choice. Only then will you understand how miserable his world is.” Every time the drops hit my corneas, the pain was agonizing. Any hint of light sent tears streaming down my face, hot and unstoppable. Eventually, the pain became too much, and I was forced to wear this mask permanently to keep the world out. Today was my brother’s eighteenth birthday. I felt my way toward my mother, catching the hem of her cardigan. I kept my voice small, hopeful. “Mom, Tyler’s an adult now. Haven’t I been punished enough?” She wrenched her arm away as if my touch were toxic. “Three years and you’re already whining? Your brother was born with this! He has to live a lifetime in the blur!” “He’s so fragile, and you still try to bait him,” she spat, her heels clicking toward the door. “Keep the drops going.” The door slammed, the sound echoing in my hollow chest. I let out a shaky breath, but it was drowned out by a burst of cheering from the backyard. Tyler’s friends were there. “Ty, man, you’re a freaking legend! Ten bullseyes in a row? Since that corrective surgery, your vision is better than all of ours combined!” “It was never that bad to begin with,” Tyler’s voice drifted in, smug and casual. “Mom just likes to blow things out of proportion.” I froze. The room seemed to tilt on its axis. Tyler’s eyes were fixed. He could see. He could see perfectly. I slowly reached up and peeled back the mask. I stared into the hallway mirror, though all I saw was a hazy, gray smear where my reflection should be. My eyes were bloodshot, the pupils blown wide and fixed, staring at nothing. Six months ago, I had secretly swapped the medication for plain water. But it didn’t matter. The damage was done. Whether it was a “punishment” or not was irrelevant now. Because I was truly, irrevocably blind. … I reached for the small silver arrow pendant around my neck—the one Mom gave me when I won my first state archery championship. She used to say my eyes were like North Stars, guiding every shot. Now, the stars had gone out. With a sudden, sharp jerk, I ripped the necklace off. “Yo, Ty! Your recovery is honestly insane,” a voice boomed as the front door swung open. “I told you, it’s all in the focus. Honestly, I think the ‘weakness’ just made me train harder,” Tyler replied, his voice brimming with the confidence of a golden boy. I heard them—Tyler and his pack of friends—striding into the living room, their footsteps heavy and vibrant. I pressed my palm against the wallpaper, using it as a guide to shuffle toward them. I had to tell her. I had to tell Mom that it wasn’t a game anymore. My eyes were broken. Really broken. “Mom…” My voice was a raspy ghost of itself. Immediately, I felt a sharp, piercing gaze hit my face. “Cassidy? Who told you that you could take that mask off?” I instinctively moved to cover my eyes, but Mom was already there. She grabbed my wrists, her fingers digging into my skin. “Your brother struggles every day, and you have the nerve to flaunt your sight in front of him? What, you think you’re better than him because your eyes ‘work’?” She didn’t care that his friends were watching. She didn’t care about the scene. She was vibrating with a misplaced, manic protective rage. I heard the boys shifting uncomfortably. “Wait, is that your sister? Wasn’t she the Junior Olympic hopeful? What happened?” “I thought she went away to college,” another whispered. “She looks… sick.” “Tyler, you’re fine now. Why isn’t she getting help? The coach said she was a once-in-a-generation talent. She was supposed to go pro.” Tyler let out a dry, dismissive laugh. “She had a bit of a setback. Mom’s handling it. She’ll be fine.” “Too bad,” one of them muttered. “Since she dropped off the map, nobody’s even come close to her records.” Mom yanked me upward, her grip bruising my shoulder as she shoved me down onto the sofa. “You clearly haven’t learned your lesson,” she hissed near my ear. “Double doses today.” The pungent, chemical smell of the drops filled the air. “Mom, please. Stop. I’m begging you…” I struggled, but I was weak. Tears, thick and laced with broken capillaries, leaked from the corners of my eyes, blurring the nothingness even further. I flashed back to being ten years old, coming home with a gold medal. Back then, Mom was obsessed with protecting my vision. She wouldn’t even let me look at a screen for more than thirty minutes. She visited three different specialists before she’d even let me use basic hay fever drops. Now, she was a stranger. A woman so consumed by the perceived unfairness of Tyler’s life that she was willing to extinguish mine to balance the scales. I was shoved aside as the group moved to the dining table. The smell of roasted chicken and garlic potatoes wafted over, making my stomach churn with nausea. I heard the clinking of silverware, the sounds of a family celebrating Tyler’s acceptance into the sports academy. “My boy,” Mom said, her voice dripping with pride. “With your vision back to 20/20, there’s nothing you can’t do.” I huddled in the corner of the sofa, squinting, trying to make out the shapes on the table. I was starving. I reached out a trembling hand toward where I thought the bread basket was, but my coordination was gone. At that moment, Tyler leaned back, gesturing wildly as he told a joke. His elbow caught my arm. The bowl of scalding hot gravy I hadn’t seen tipped over. It drenched his brand-new tracksuit. “Crap! My new gear!” Tyler shrieked. “Cass, watch what you’re doing! You’re cleaning this!” The laughter in the room died instantly. I felt the air grow cold. Mom slammed her fork onto the table. “Cassidy. Was that on purpose?” “Mom, I… I couldn’t see it,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “I didn’t mean to…” “Stop lying!” Mom stood up, her voice rising to a scream. “You’ve been using those drops for three years. You aren’t blind. Tyler was born with it and he never acted this pathetic!” “If you want to play the martyr, do it in your room. Don’t you dare ruin this day for your brother. Get out. Now.” I stood up, my eyes throbbing with a dull, rhythmic ache. I refused to cry in front of them. I turned to walk away, but with the world a kaleidoscope of gray smears, I miscalculated the turn. Crack. My shoulder slammed into the sharp edge of the mahogany hutch. I gasped as a searing pain shot through my arm, and my forehead hit the wood next. I felt a knot rising instantly, but behind me, I only heard Mom telling Tyler to eat his dinner. They didn’t even look back. Ever since Tyler’s condition worsened years ago, I became the family’s designated scapegoat. Any mistake meant “reflection time” in the storage closet. I opened the door to the small, windowless room, the scent of dust and mildew greeting me. It didn’t matter that it was dark. It was always dark now. I sat on a small wooden stool, my hands searching the drawer of the old desk. My fingers brushed against a cold, plastic surface. The family photo album. I opened the first page. Even though it was a blur, the memories were etched into my brain. There was one of me as a toddler, holding baby Tyler. Our parents were beaming, their faces full of a future that hadn’t turned rotten yet. There were photos of my first bow, my first trophy. Mom used to be my biggest fan. When did it change? As Tyler’s vision faded, Mom’s love morphed into something jagged. My success became an insult to him. My sight became a debt I owed him. I used to think that if I won enough, if I got a big enough scholarship, I could pay for his cure. The irony was a bitter pill. I had saved his eyes, only to have mine stolen by the person who gave them to me. I don’t know how long I sat there in the dark. Eventually, the door was wrenched open. “Cassidy, the guests are gone. Are you going to rot in here? Get out and do the dishes.” I didn’t have the strength to move. My eyelids felt like they were weighted with lead. When I didn’t respond, she grabbed me by the hair and hauled me up. “Stop acting! You’re fine! You just don’t want to work.” She forced my eyelids open, staring at my dilated, unresponsive pupils for a split second. I felt her hand tremble, just once. “Why are they so wide…?” she muttered to herself. “It’s probably because you were sleeping in the dark. It’s a natural reaction.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a new bottle. “Stop the drama. These are high-quality restorative drops. Use them, sleep, and you’ll be fine by morning.” The familiar, burning sting returned. I didn’t fight her. I let the darkness take me. The next morning, a sliver of light—a muddy, gray smear—returned. I could see the vague outlines of the kitchen cabinets. It was a miracle, or so I thought. I wanted to be good. If I was perfect, maybe she’d listen. I spent an hour painstakingly making her favorite breakfast—lemon ricotta pancakes and fresh coffee. When she sat down, her expression softened by a fraction. “At least you’re being useful for once.” I sat across from her, my voice small and desperate. “Mom, Tyler is better now. I’ve done my time. Three years… Please, can we go to a real doctor? I want to go back to the range. I miss the bow. I want to compete again.” Mom paused, her fork halfway to her mouth. She looked at my bloodshot eyes, a flicker of something—guilt, maybe?—crossing her face. “Fine. Now that Tyler is settled at the academy, I suppose we could…” “Mom! My stomach is still messed up from yesterday!” Tyler lounged into the room, wearing his expensive new athletic gear. He smirked at me, that entitled, cat-like grin he always wore. “Cass, remember when you won that state title? You told me I’d always be a ‘little loser’ who could never even hold a bow. That hurt, you know? You think a few pancakes makes up for years of being looked down on?” My heart plummeted. “Tyler, I never said that. I never, ever mocked you!” He shrugged. “I remember it differently. But hey, I guess when you’re the ‘star,’ you forget the people you step on.” Mom’s face turned to stone. she stood up and scraped the pancakes into the trash. “Cassidy, you’re unbelievable. You’re still trying to manipulate us? After everything I’ve done to keep this family together?” “Mom, I didn’t! He’s lying!” I reached for her sleeve, but the world was darkening again, the gray smears turning to black ink. “Mom! I really can’t see! It’s happening again! If we don’t go now, I’m going to be blind forever!” “Enough with the theatrics! Tyler wouldn’t lie about that! You’re just bitter because he’s the one with the future now!” “You claim you can’t see? Then who cooked this breakfast? A ghost?” “Mom, please… no…” Tyler stood back, likely thinking this was just another round of our lifelong sibling rivalry. He didn’t realize the stakes. He didn’t realize he was playing with the last flickers of my life. Mom continued to scream, but as the world went pitch black, her voice seemed to drift away. A hollow, freezing cold settled in my bones. I turned toward the sound of her breathing and spoke softly. “Mom… if I disappeared one day… would you miss me?” There was a beat of silence. Then, a sharp, dismissive scoff. “What kind of game is this? Honestly, if you disappeared, maybe I’d finally have some peace. I wouldn’t have to look at your ‘poor me’ face every day.” “Go back to your hole, Cassidy. Get out of my sight.” She stormed out. “Cass?” Tyler’s voice was closer now, teasing. “You ruined my gear yesterday, I was just messing with you. Why aren’t you laughing? Don’t be such a drama queen.” He leaned in, his warm breath hitting my face. I forced a smile—a jagged, broken thing. I just wanted to get to my room. I turned, counting the steps in my head, but my foot caught on something. CRASH. I tripped over the trash can where she’d dumped the food. The cold, sticky mess covered me. I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I just crawled through the filth, trying to find the wall. One step. Two. THUD. My knee hit the corner of the coffee table. I went down again. This time, my forehead cracked against the hardwood floor. I felt a warm, sticky liquid trickling down my brow. I could hear my father and Tyler nearby. I could hear their breathing. But nobody moved to help me. I gritted my teeth and pushed myself up, determined to stand. But my legs were like jelly. I took one step and collapsed again. THUD. THUD. THUD. Falling, rising, falling. The living room wasn’t large, but the journey felt like crossing a continent. Blood ran into my eyes, stinging, but I couldn’t tell if it was blood or tears anymore. “…Cassidy?” My father’s voice finally held a note of genuine fear. “Enough!” Mom yelled, marching back in. “Stop this! You’re making a scene just for attention!” She grabbed her newest bottle of drops. “This is the medicine! I’m going to give you one more dose, and if you keep ‘acting’ blind after this, I’m done with you!” She pinned me down, forcing my eye open. The cold liquid hit. This time, there was no burn. There was nothing. My eyes were dead. “Why… why aren’t her pupils reacting?” Mom whispered, her voice suddenly thin. “Cassidy? Look at me. Why isn’t it working?” I “looked” at her, my face a mask of terrifying calm. “Mom,” I whispered, my voice a dry husk. “In the next life… please don’t punish me. I don’t want to be in the dark anymore.”

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The year I was the hungriest, I worked for Carter Hayes. I copied his notes for a day in exchange for a single meal. Years later, after I graduated from college, Carter came looking for me. “Two million bucks. Come here and be my fiancée.” 1 Back in high school, my mom cut me off. She refused to give me a single cent. She said if I was so stubborn about staying in school instead of dropping out to work, then I shouldn’t be afraid of starving. But I went to school anyway, clutching the twenty-dollar bill I’d secretly saved up. Twenty dollars lasted me half a month of extreme penny-pinching. When the money ran out, I drank water from the bathroom sink. It was late autumn and freezing; the cold water sloshing in my empty stomach felt like solid ice. I could hear the water sloshing around every time I walked. I starved for three days straight like that. At fourteen years old, starving for three days makes you want to bite the next person you see. I was so hungry I seriously considered chewing on the grass outside the school. Just as I was about to pass out, Carter Hayes sat down next to me with his lunch. I stared at him. He turned his head and met my gaze. I didn’t move; I just stared dead at his food. Carter got thoroughly creeped out and quietly asked if I wanted to share his lunch. My eyes instantly lit up. “Can I?” He let out a breath of relief and nodded. “Yeah, eat. My mom packed way too much anyway…” Later, Carter told me that the look in my eyes didn’t say I want to eat your food; it said I want to eat YOU. He felt like giving me his lunch was the only way to save his own life. For a long time, I worked for Carter. In class, I copied his notes; between classes, I wiped his desk. The compensation wasn’t much: a meal or two. He started bringing an extra portion for me every day. I’d split it into breakfast, lunch, and dinner, but it still wasn’t enough to fill me up. So Carter would slip me whatever snacks he brought. “Here’s some beef jerky my mom brought back from a road trip. It’s probably still good.” I took it and chewed. Too tough. Kept chewing. “Here’s some fruitcake from last Christmas.” I took it. Crunch, crunch, chew. “Here are some fruit-flavored antacid Tums my mom bought.” I hesitated for a second, then swiftly ripped the package open and popped them in. Chew, chew, chew… Carter would sneak me these things during class, and I’d secretly eat them. Once the bell rang, he stared at me, eyes wide. “You ate two whole rolls of Tums?!” “Yeah…” He looked utterly defeated. “Sadie, I’m not going to accidentally kill you by feeding you this crap, am I?” I didn’t know if he would kill me, but I knew I was already starving to death. 2 For a long time, I survived on the food Carter brought. Until Fall Break. Initially, I wanted to go home. But the moment I got there, my mom grabbed me by the collar and dragged me out the door. She wouldn’t let me in. She said that for every day I stayed in school, she wouldn’t recognize me as her daughter. Other girls my age were already working full-time in out-of-state factories, but I was too delicate for that. Since I thought I was so capable and refused to listen, I shouldn’t rely on the family. Better yet, I shouldn’t come home at all. I sniffled, standing awkwardly on the porch clutching my backpack. The smell of roast chicken drifted from inside the open door. My mom brought the chicken out, and my younger siblings scrambled for it. My little sister Lily grabbed a piece and glanced at me, but my mom slapped her hand. “Eat your food! Don’t look at her!” Lily froze, sitting obediently. I lowered my head. The dim light from the house stretched my shadow, making it look as defeated as I felt. Eventually, my mom slammed the door shut. The light vanished. I hugged my backpack and walked away. That night, I slept at the Greyhound bus station. The next morning, I woke up and saw Carter. He was supposed to go on a trip with his parents. When he looked up near the ticketing gate and saw me, he jumped. “What are you doing here?” “My mom won’t let me stay at the house. It’s warm inside the bus station.” “Holy shit. Is she your biological mom?” “Yeah.” “…” Carter didn’t get on his bus that day. I don’t know what he told his parents, but he saw them off and stayed behind. He turned around, looked at me, and sighed. “Come on. Let’s go to my place.” He walked ahead, and I hurried to put on my backpack to follow him. Carter was two years older than me, tall with long legs. For every step he took, I had to take three. After a few steps, he turned back and snatched my heavy backpack. I looked up at him, and when he met my gaze, he laughed. “Sadie Harper, I’m just an unlucky bastard. How did I end up running into you? My parents were supposed to take me to the beach! And now here I am, carrying your backpack.” “I’m sorry.” “Whatever, forget it. Are you hungry?” “Starving…” “Alright then. While your boy’s still got some cash, let’s go get some real food.” 3 I stayed at Carter’s house for seven days. His house was nothing like mine. I had three siblings; the older ones cried, the younger ones threw tantrums. All four of us crammed into one room, always a chaotic mess. He was an only child. His entire house was spotless, organized, and beautiful. The neighborhood was landscaped, the building had an elevator, they had a guest room, the balcony was full of plants. The only downside was the lack of food. I woke up starving in the middle of the night but couldn’t find a single bite to eat—not even a roll of Tums. Eventually, my eyes locked onto a small, decorative potted orange tree on the balcony. I stared at the oranges for half an hour until Carter walked past the balcony, saw me, and let out a shriek. “!!! Holy shit, it’s a ghost!” I froze and looked back at him. That’s when he realized it was me. “Dude, Sadie, what are you doing squatting on the balcony? Oh… the oranges… if you want to eat them, just pick them!” Carter was so scared he actually shed a tear. I cried too, hugging my oranges, deeply moved. These oranges were delicious! So sweet. The next day, Carter took me out to buy groceries and snacks, warning me repeatedly, “Sadie, you are forbidden from squatting on the dark balcony in the middle of the night with your hair down looking like a creepy ghost girl.” I nodded vigorously, looking at him with immense gratitude. He paused when he met my eyes, and after a long moment, let out a laugh. “Come on. Let’s go home.” When we got back, I cooked. After cooking, I did my homework. After finishing my homework, I tutored Carter. He didn’t really care, casually flipping through his notebook, only half-listening. Later, he suddenly remembered something, holding my student ID. “Sadie, you’re in high school, why are you only 14?” I thought about it before explaining seriously. “I skipped grades in elementary school. I didn’t go to preschool, just started first grade at six, and then skipped straight to third grade. That’s why I’m two years younger than everyone else.” “Tsk, what was the rush?” “My parents always said I’d have to start working full-time when I turned 16. When I was little, I figured if I could test into college before turning 16, I wouldn’t have to go work in a factory. But high school requires tuition fees, so my parents still wanted me to drop out. They said labor laws are looser out of state, and if I went there, I could start earning money at 14.” “…” Carter was silent for a long time. Eventually, he was so mad he laughed. “Fourteen… your parents are real pieces of work.” I had originally planned to find a part-time job during Fall Break, but since I was under 16, no one would hire me. I finally found a gig taping up promotional flyers on telephone poles for 80 bucks a day. Carter had nothing better to do, so he found a gig too: getting paid to tear down illegally taped promotional flyers. I worked for half a day, got caught by Carter, and received a lengthy lecture from him. At the end of the shift, I made 80 dollars, and Carter made 120. I looked at my 80, then at his 120. He smirked and shoved the 120 into his pocket. I gripped my 80 bucks, hesitating for a moment before handing it to him. “Carter, let me buy you dinner.” He was stunned. After a long pause, he took the cash. We went to a greasy spoon diner near his neighborhood. Two bowls of chili, an order of fries, and some sliders—it cost 40 dollars. I don’t remember the rest, but I remember leaving completely stuffed that day. 4 Between the holiday and the weekend, I worked six days total. Minus the dinner, I had 440 dollars. The first day back to school was the happiest day of my life because my financial aid check finally cleared. I scraped together two thousand dollars, counting the cash over and over again. Then I went to borrow Carter’s phone. He asked what I needed it for. “I borrowed money from the older girl next door to pay for my high school fees. I need to pay her back.” He looked confused. “How much do you owe?” “Fifteen hundred.” After paying her back, I had five hundred left. That was enough to survive for a month, and I could find odd jobs on the weekends. I could finally breathe. I even bought myself a new backpack. My old one was practically shredded and tied together with knots. The new one was 20 bucks online—big and roomy. Carter sighed when he saw me that day. As my desk-mate, he continued to bring me food. He claimed his mom always cooked too much, so bringing a little extra was no big deal. Carter was a good person, and his mom was a wonderful person too. Because after that break, every portion of food Carter brought me had a perfectly fried egg on top. The kind sprinkled with freshly chopped scallions. One weekend, Carter asked, “Are you going home this week?” I shook my head. “My mom won’t let me.” “Perfect. Pack your stuff this afternoon, you’re coming to my place.” “…” Our prep school had a brutal schedule: classes from 7 AM to 8 PM, six days a week. Weekends didn’t officially start until Saturday evening. At 5 PM, I packed my bag and left with him. When I got there, I found out his older cousin was getting married, and they were prepping the house the night before the wedding. I helped Carter out all evening, ate the huge family-style dinner, and slept in the same room as his younger cousin. I woke up in the middle of the night and found Carter sitting in the living room playing video games. I walked over. He saw me, turned off his phone, and asked, “What’s up?” “Why aren’t you sleeping?” “Can’t sleep…” “Why?” He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “My mom’s been trying to send me to a boarding school overseas. She says with my grades, I won’t amount to anything staying here.” He lowered his head and stared at his phone. I knew better than to press him, but when I went back to my room, I stared at the ceiling and couldn’t help but think: If Carter leaves, who will I find to eat with when I’m starving? The next morning started early with the wedding prep. I rode in the same car as his younger cousin. It was a beautiful, elegant wedding. The bride looked stunning in her white gown. I stared in awe until the bride’s mother handed me a tip envelope with a warm smile. In that moment, I understood why Carter wanted me to come. The girls helping the bridal party got a 200-dollar tip and plenty of amazing food. Carter was one of the groomsmen—tall, long-legged, sharp in a tailored suit, every hair perfectly in place. I chewed on some candy, watching him standing at the altar. Later, he stepped down and waved at me. I ran over, and he shoved a handful of expensive chocolates into my hands. “Come on, grab your backpack, I’ll take you to the back to grab some more snacks…” He trailed off, looking at me and grinning. “Who did your hair and makeup? That little puffy dress, the double buns… you look like a cosplay of Princess Peach.” “Who is Princess Peach?” “A video game character. Gotta admit, it’s a good look.” I didn’t understand, so I just opened a chocolate and chewed. Chew, chew, chew. 5 Carter had phases where he studied hard, but he always gave up eventually. He was just too lazy. I kept copying his notes for him. I took my own notes during class, and copied them for him during breaks. Whenever I had a spare moment, I’d gnaw on a plain bagel and read my textbooks. I had several bagels stuffed in my desk. I’d eat whenever I got hungry. In high school, I wasn’t the only one starving; teenagers are always hungry. We had breakfast at 7 AM, and lunch wasn’t until noon. Growing kids get hungry around 10 AM. The cafeteria didn’t make enough bagels. Sometimes when I pulled one out, Carter would ask for a piece. Then the guy in front of me wanted a piece. Then the girl behind me. Eventually, it became a routine. I’d tear off a piece, pass the rest forward, and it would circle the classroom. By the time it got back to me, it had magically transformed into a few bags of chips or half a pack of cookies. High school was a blur of endless assignments, test prep, and workbooks that never seemed to end. Time flew. Shortly after New Year’s, my first semester of freshman year ended. Even though Christmas break was approaching, I still couldn’t go home. I didn’t want to fight with my mom, but I still desperately wanted an education. I was young but stubborn; I genuinely believed that going to school meant my life wouldn’t be limited to factory work. I didn’t go home for the holidays. Instead, I found a warehouse packing job that desperately needed seasonal workers. Twelve-hour shifts, a hundred bucks a day. I worked for 20 days and made two grand. On Christmas Eve, the warehouse closed. Carter came to pick me up on his electric scooter. The little scooter wound its way across half the city. The river on the outskirts was frozen solid. People were ice skating and setting off fireworks. The daytime fireworks weren’t as bright, but they were still beautiful. We hung out for hours until the sky grew dark and all the shops closed. Carter took me to his family’s main estate for Christmas Eve. His extended family was massive—seventy or eighty people all celebrating together. The holiday dinner spanned six massive tables. I blended into the crowd; no one bothered me, and no one really noticed me. Later, when it was time for gifts, all the kids gathered around. Carter pulled me along to join them. The adults handed out Christmas cards stuffed with cash, and they gave me one too. In the dim lighting of the courtyard, someone hesitated when looking at me but handed over an envelope anyway. Later, I overheard someone asking, “I don’t recognize that girl. Whose kid is she?” “Oh! Carter brought her. Probably a cousin from his mom’s side!” I was no one’s cousin. My face flushed bright red. I clutched the stack of cash, ran over to Carter, and tried to shove it into his hands. He had been trying to figure out how to light a roman candle and jumped when I grabbed him. “Sadie, why are you giving me money?” “This is your family’s Christmas money. I can’t take it.” Carter shoved the cash right back into my coat pocket. “If they gave it to you, keep it. Now back up, I’m lighting this thing.” First came the loud pops of firecrackers, followed by a brilliant spray of colorful fireworks. All the kids gathered around to watch. Carter grabbed the collar of my jacket and pulled me back a step. “Sadie, make a wish. It’s the start of a new year.” “I want to be ranked number one in the school.” “Idiot, you can’t say the wish out loud.” “Oh, really? Let me make a new one.” For the new year, I want… I want to be as happy as I was last year… and I want Carter to stay.

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The lab results were crumpled behind my back, the sharp edges of the paper digging into my palm until it pulsed with a dull ache. Under the flickering glow of the dining room chandelier, I watched my son. He was picking at his dinner with a cold, practiced indifference that mirrored his father’s. I couldn’t help myself; the secret in my hand was too heavy. I asked him, my voice barely a whisper, if he’d ever wanted a little sister. He paused, his fork hovering mid-air. His lashes cast long, dark shadows over his cheekbones. Without looking up, he shook his head. “I already have a sister,” he said quietly. I started to laugh, ready to tease him about childhood imaginings, but the sound died in my throat. Beside him, my husband—the man I had built a life with for fifteen years—set his cutlery down with a clinical click. His tone was as flat as if he were checking the weather. He told me he’d been seeing a younger woman. He told me she was pregnant. The amniotic fluid test results had come back yesterday. It was a girl. “She’s young, she’s healthy. The baby will be bright,” Wyatt said, looking at me with eyes that held no more warmth than a frozen lake. “I’m keeping this child, Margot. I have to.” It felt as though an invisible hand had reached into my chest and squeezed. Every breath I took felt like inhaling shattered glass. I realized then that the “little girl” I had been dreaming of, the one currently forming inside me, had already been replaced. I was a spectator in someone else’s success story. … “Why?” I forced the word out through the bile rising in my throat. I couldn’t reconcile the man sitting across from me with the husband who had supposedly adored me for over a decade. Wyatt didn’t blink. He didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed. “Six months ago. A party, too much to drink, a mistake with a girl. I tried to pay her off, Margot. I really did. But she’s… persistent. And fertile, apparently.” A small, involuntary smirk touched the corners of his mouth. “Parker found out it was a girl. He’s the one who begged me to let her keep it. You should have seen him that day. I haven’t seen him that happy in years.” The pride in Wyatt’s voice made my blood run cold. I turned to my son, expecting to see a shred of guilt. There was none. “I want a sister,” Parker said, his voice terrifyingly mature. “It doesn’t matter who the mother is.” The first tear escaped, hot and bitter. I felt like I was looking at two strangers wearing the faces of the people I loved most. Wyatt sighed, pulling a silk handkerchief from his breast pocket and sliding it toward me across the mahogany table. “Is this really necessary? Look at the circles we run in, Margot. Half the men at the club have a second family. I thought you were more sophisticated than this.” “Don’t worry,” he added, as if granting a mercy. “Once the baby is born, I’ll set the girl up in Europe. Your position, your status—none of that changes.” I pushed the handkerchief away. I put my head down and let the sob break. Yesterday, I was the woman everyone envied. The wife of a tech mogul with a spotless reputation. The mother of a prodigy. Today, the floor had dropped out from under me. I rubbed my eyes, desperate to wake up from this fever dream. Wyatt reached out, catching my chin, wiping a tear away with his thumb. “Stop the dramatics. No one knows about this except a few close friends. You’ll always be Mrs. Wyatt Scott. I promise, okay?” The name hit me like a physical blow. I suddenly went cold. My hand instinctively hovered over my stomach, thinking of the life inside me. What a cruel joke. When Wyatt tried to pull me into a forced embrace, I shoved him back with a strength that surprised us both. “Get away from me! You’re filthy. Don’t you dare touch me.” He stepped back, holding his hands up in a mocking gesture of surrender. “Fine. I won’t touch you. Maybe Parker can talk some sense into you.” I stood up so abruptly the chair screeched against the hardwood. In one blind motion, I swept the dinner service off the table. China shattered. Wine spilled like blood across the white linen. “I want a divorce,” I choked out. “And I will never, ever raise that woman’s brat.” The silence that followed was absolute. Wyatt’s eyes turned predatory, the mask of the “good husband” finally slipping. Parker looked at me with pure, unadulterated disappointment. “If you want to leave, Mom, leave. I’m staying with Dad.” “And just so you know,” the boy added, his voice ice-cold, “if you walk out that door today, Jessie will be my new mother tomorrow.” The strength left my legs. I gripped the edge of the sideboard. “What did you just say?” Jessie. She was a student at the university where I taught. A girl who had come to my office months ago, announcing she was dropping out because she’d “hit the jackpot” with a wealthy older man. I had tried to mentor her, told her she was throwing her future away for a paycheck. She had looked at me with such pity. “Trust me, Professor. My man has enough money to support ten of me. I’m set for life.” I had felt sorry for her then. I didn’t realize she was talking about my life. “Why?” I whispered. “Of all the girls in this city, why my student?” Wyatt rubbed his temples. “It wasn’t intentional. I was at the hotel, I went into the wrong suite… by the time I realized who she was, it had already happened.” He looked at me then, a dark, hungry light in his eyes. “But I don’t regret it. Eighteen-year-olds have a certain… vitality that you lost a long time ago, Margot.” My brain felt like it was exploding. I grabbed the nearest heavy object—a crystal decanter—and hurled it at him. Then a glass. Then a plate. I screamed until my throat was raw, throwing everything within reach until I collapsed, gasping for air. Wyatt hadn’t even moved to dodge. “Feel better now?” he asked, stepping over the glass shards. He reached out to help me up. “Go to hell!” I screamed. I grabbed a broken shard of a teacup and brandished it like a knife. My hand was bleeding where the porcelain had sliced my palm. Wyatt’s expression hardened. He lunged forward, grabbing my wrist in a vice grip, ignoring my struggle as he began to wrap the wound with a napkin. “Since the secret is out,” he said, his voice dropping to a terrifyingly calm register, “Jessie is moving in. Tonight.” “She’s young, she’s inexperienced. You’ve done this before. You’re going to help her through the pregnancy.” I stared at him, certain he had lost his mind. “You… what?” He twisted his wedding band, then reached up to pinch my cheek, a gesture that felt like a threat. “Be a good girl, Margot. Jessie will be here in an hour. I’ve already called your department head and told them you’re taking a sabbatical. You’ll have plenty of time to look after her.” I couldn’t hold it back anymore. I let out a jagged, hysterical laugh. “You’re sick. You want your wife to be a servant to your mistress? You’re delusional, Wyatt.” He leaned in, pressing a finger to my lips. “Shh. Keep your voice down. You wouldn’t want your mother to hear about this, would you? She’s still in the cardiac ward, Margot. The doctors say she can’t handle any sudden stress.” The blood drained from my face. My mother. Wyatt had been a nobody when I met him. My mother was the only one who believed in him, even giving him the seed money for his first startup. She loved him like a son. “If you don’t behave,” Wyatt whispered, his smile never wavering, “I can’t guarantee that a ‘leak’ won’t make its way to her hospital room. Think about it.” He checked his Patek Philippe. “Jessie will be here in five minutes. You have that long to get yourself together.” I slumped against the wall, my fist clenched until the knuckles turned white, before finally, helplessly, letting go. I nodded. Wyatt kissed my forehead as if rewarding a pet. Then he turned and walked toward the door to greet her. Parker pushed past me, shoulder-checking me aside. The boy who usually acted like a forty-year-old executive was suddenly buzzing with excitement, his eyes fixed on the front door. I sank to the floor, the lab result for my own pregnancy still hidden in the waistband of my skirt. The front door opened. My eyes locked with Jessie’s. Her belly was just beginning to show under a tight silk dress. She didn’t look like a scared student anymore. She looked like a conqueror. “Professor,” she cooed, her eyes dancing with malice. “I’m so looking forward to learning from you.” I stayed silent. Parker stepped forward, his voice demanding. “Mom, move your stuff out of the master suite. Jessie needs the space, and you’re old anyway. You can sleep in the guest wing.” “Fine,” I said, my voice dead. If my husband and son were gone, what did a bedroom matter? Wyatt blinked, seemingly surprised by my compliance. He remembered the woman I used to be—the one who fought for every inch of her territory. I turned to walk away, but Wyatt caught my arm. “Not so fast. Since you’re being so accommodating, why don’t you finish clearing out the room now? Jessie needs to settle in.” Jessie moved closer, hooking her arm through mine in a mock-intimacy that made my skin crawl. “Thank you, Professor. I really want the baby to be close to you. Maybe your ‘wisdom’ will rub off on her. Oh—and make sure you get the dust under the bed. I have terrible allergies.” She was treating me like a maid. And Wyatt and Parker just watched. I wrenched my arm away. “There are twenty housekeepers on payroll. Let them do it.” “Margot,” Wyatt’s voice was a warning bell. “Don’t test me. You can leave, but remember your mother. If you won’t do it, maybe we should bring her here so she can help?” The threat hit its mark. I turned and walked into the master bedroom. I started pulling my clothes from the closet, my hands shaking. Parker followed me in. He didn’t help. Instead, he started grabbing my perfume bottles, my jewelry boxes, my silk scarves, and throwing them out into the hallway. Glass shattered. Precious things I’d collected for decades were ruined in seconds. “You’re too slow, Mom,” he said, his face a mask of indifference. “Besides, this stuff is all old. It belongs in the trash.” Wyatt appeared in the doorway, looking at the mess. He actually had the nerve to look pitying. “Look, Margot, I’ll make it up to you. I’ll buy those beachfront villas in Malibu you liked and put them in your name. Just… take a break. Stay in the guest wing for a while.” The hypocrisy was suffocating. I finished clearing the bare essentials and walked out without a word. But thirty minutes later, a scream pierced the air from the master suite. Two of Wyatt’s security guards intercepted me in the hall and forced me back toward the room. There, on the Egyptian cotton sheets, a long sewing needle glinted in the light. Jessie was hysterical, buried in Wyatt’s chest. “Wyatt, I’m so scared! I felt it prick me. What if it hit the baby? What if she’s hurt?” Wyatt looked at me, his face contorted with disgust. “Margot, how could you be so petty? So cruel?” “I thought you were a professional. A teacher. Have you no dignity? I told you Jessie wasn’t a threat to your status, but you just couldn’t help yourself, could you? You put a needle in her bed? You wanted to kill the baby?” I stared at the needle. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Parker, who had been standing in the corner, suddenly lunged. Before I could react, he grabbed my right hand. A sharp, searing heat exploded in my wrist. He had driven the needle into my arm. My hand went numb instantly. Parker wasn’t done; he swung his small fists at my stomach, his face red with rage. “Bad Mommy! Evil Mommy! You tried to hurt the baby, so I’m hurting you!” The physical pain was nothing compared to the sound of his voice. I had spent years worrying that Parker was too stoic, too much like his father. I had prayed for him to show emotion, to cry, to laugh, to be a child. And now he was, for the first time in his life—and it was directed at me, in defense of a stranger. I looked up at Wyatt. “Do you really believe I did this?” Wyatt didn’t answer. Jessie let out another theatrical wail. “Wyatt, my stomach hurts. Something is wrong. If I lose this baby, I don’t want to live!” Wyatt scooped her up, his eyes narrowing as he looked at me one last time. “This was your fault, Margot. You brought this on yourself. Parker was just defending his sister.” He looked at the blood dripping from my wrist. “It’s a scratch. Fix it yourself.” “And don’t worry about your mother. I’ve sent a private surgical team to her floor. They’re monitoring her 24/7. As long as you stay in line, she stays alive.” He carried Jessie out of the room. A sharp, cramping pain bloomed in my lower abdomen. I gasped, reaching out a hand to Parker, hoping for a flicker of the son I used to know. But Parker shoved my hand away with a look of pure loathing and ran after his father. I fell, my stomach slamming against the sharp edge of the coffee table. I felt a warm, terrifying rush of fluid between my legs. Panic, primal and raw, took over. I used the last of my strength to scream. “Parker! Stop! Please! There’s a baby—your real sister—please, help me!” Parker stopped in the doorway. He turned back, a cruel, mocking sneer on his face. “You’re such a liar, Mom. Dad said you’re too old and dried up to have kids. You’re just jealous because Jessie can do what you can’t.” “My sister is in Jessie’s belly. Stop pretending, it’s pathetic.” The pain intensified, a dull roar in my ears. I tried to speak, but he was already gone. In the end, it was a sympathetic maid who found me and called an ambulance. When I woke up, the fluorescent lights of the hospital were blinding. A doctor stood at the foot of my bed, his face a mask of practiced sympathy. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Scott. You were too far along for the trauma you sustained. We couldn’t save the pregnancy.” “Don’t lose hope,” he added gently. “You’re still young enough to try again.” I touched my stomach. It was flat. Empty. Surprisingly, I didn’t feel like crying. The grief was there, but it was overshadowed by a cold, dead certainty. There would be no “next time.” Not with Wyatt. Not ever. I slept for a few more hours, drifting in a morphine haze. When I finally reached for my phone to call a lawyer, it rang in my hand. It was the emergency room downstairs. “Mrs. Scott? Your mother’s condition has plummeted. You need to come down. Now. To say goodbye.” The world tilted. I ripped the IV out of my arm, ignored the blood spraying from my vein, and ran. I reached the ICU unit, breathless and shaking. My mother was lying on a gurney in the hallway. Alone. There was only one intern standing over her. “Where is everyone?” I grabbed the nurse’s arm. “Where is the surgical team? Where are the specialists?” The intern looked down, avoiding my eyes. “Mr. Scott… he called them away. He said his wife was having an emergency on the upper floor and he needed the entire cardiac and trauma team up there immediately.” My heart stopped. Wyatt had pulled the doctors to attend to Jessie’s “fainting spell.” I dialed Wyatt’s number. It took ten tries before he picked up. But it was Parker who answered. “What do you want, Mom? Why are you calling?” “Put your father on,” I hissed, my voice trembling. “Dad’s busy. He’s holding Jessie’s hand while she gets her ultrasound. Stop being a stalker.” He hung up. My mother’s breathing was becoming a series of ragged, wet gasps. I called Wyatt’s personal assistant. I begged. I screamed into the phone. “Margot, what is it now?” Wyatt’s voice finally came through, sounding bored. “Wyatt, please. My mother is dying. She needs the surgeons. Please, send them back down. I’m begging you—I’ll do anything.” There was a pause. Then, a dry, cruel chuckle. “Still with the theatrics? My team is already here, Margot. Stop trying to steal the spotlight from Jessie. It’s transparent.” “No, Wyatt, please—she’s literally dying—” “Then let her die,” he snapped. “I’m done with your lies.” The line went dead. I stood there, paralyzed, as the monitor behind me flatlined into a long, continuous drone. I watched them pull the white sheet over my mother’s face. I didn’t have any tears left. Hours later, my phone buzzed. A text from Wyatt. How’s your mother? The team said she was stable. Don’t worry, I’ve got the best meds being flown in from Germany. Tonight is Parker’s birthday dinner. Be there at seven. He wants that specific chocolate cake you make. Don’t be late. “Okay,” I whispered to the empty room. I went back to the OB/GYN wing. I asked the nurse for the remains of the child I’d lost. I placed the small, clinical container inside a beautiful, silk-lined gift box. Then I called a courier. I handed him my black Amex. “Deliver this to Wyatt Scott. Personally. In front of everyone.” At the gala dinner, Jessie was draped in diamonds, preening for the cameras. Parker was looking around, his eyes searching the crowd. “Where’s Mom? Is she still throwing a tantrum?” Wyatt checked his watch, his jaw tight. “She’ll be here. She knows better than to miss this.” The courier arrived then. Wyatt smirked, assuming it was a peace offering. He took the box, his ego preening. “See? She can’t stay away. A cake is a bit much, but I suppose I’ll forgive her this once—” He opened the box. His face went from smug to a ghostly, translucent white in less than a second.

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I’m a transfer student. I worked so hard for so long just to get into my childhood crush’s Honors class. But when I finally transferred over, I realized he already had a very pretty desk mate. She smiled at me gently and said, “Ethan still needs to tutor me. I can’t give up this seat for you, sweetie.” Ethan’s eyes landed on her, a look of unmistakable joy on his face. I froze in place, my face burning. I had no choice but to find an empty seat somewhere else, not daring to speak to him again. But later, Ethan cornered me, looking completely lost and panicked: “Tutoring? Why didn’t you come to me…?” 1 Everyone’s eyes in the classroom focused on me. Her tone was so soft and sweet. “Sweetie, cutting in line isn’t nice. Ethan still needs to tutor me.” In an instant, whispers erupted across the room. “She just transferred and already wants to steal someone’s seat? This new girl is so arrogant.” “Isn’t that Ethan’s childhood friend? I used to see her waiting for him at the door every day.” “That still doesn’t mean she can just barge in and demand a seat!” “She was top of the Regular class, so she thinks she owns the place now.” It wasn’t like that… I wanted to explain, but my throat felt completely blocked. I didn’t even know where to start telling them that Ethan and I had agreed on this a long time ago. I worked so hard to test into the Honors class just so we could sit together. He told me he had already arranged our seats. My palms began to sweat as I gripped my backpack straps. I looked at Ethan, pleading for help. Hoping he would speak up and explain that I wasn’t acting like this… But he turned his face away and looked at that girl. His eyes were smiling. “Yeah, I’m tutoring you.” The classroom fell silent for a split second. I don’t know who started it, but someone let out a scoff. Then, the entire room erupted into laughter and mocking giggles. I blushed, completely at a loss. My mind went entirely blank. I didn’t understand. Didn’t he say… once I tested into the Honors class, we would work hard together…? 2 The bell rang. All the students obediently took their seats. Ethan looked at me and casually pointed to the back. “Just find a spot back there for now.” I took a deep breath. Enduring the burning sensation on my face, I walked to the back. Behind me, I heard that girl’s lowered voice, “Ethan, your childhood friend looks a little upset.” “It’s fine. Class is starting, just focus on the lecture.” “Oh.” Her voice was tiny. I couldn’t see her. But I could imagine her adorably innocent expression. I don’t remember how I walked the rest of the way, just that I stiffly sat down in the only empty seat in the last row. There was someone next to me. He seemed to hear the noise. He lifted his eyelids, gave me a single glance, and then buried his head back into his arms. For the entire class period… I was in a daze. I couldn’t absorb a single word the Honors teacher was saying. Until class ended. Ethan stood up from his seat at the front and walked over, placing a notebook on my desk. “Honors class notes. “I didn’t expect you to actually pass the exam. Look over these first and try to teach yourself.” The cover of the notebook was pink. It was the same one I had given him at the start of the school year, filled with pages of meticulous writing. For some reason, a wave of grievance surged in my chest, and my eyes grew red. Ethan paused, startled. “What, are you that touched?” The girl sitting behind him suddenly stood up, clutching her forehead looking frustrated. “Ethan, I still didn’t catch what you were explaining earlier!” He looked back at her. The notebook I had just accepted was immediately snatched back from my hands. “Wait a bit. Let Chloe copy them first.” He took the notes and walked away. I couldn’t hold back my tears anymore; they fell on their own. The next moment. A pack of tissues was tossed onto my lap from out of nowhere. My new desk mate, who had been sleeping all class, suddenly looked up, his cold eyes laced with annoyance. “Don’t cry next to me.” He startled me. I frantically grabbed a tissue and wiped my tears away. But my eyes uncontrollably locked onto the boy and girl sitting in the front, heads bent together as they went over a math problem. My eyes stung fiercely. The unfamiliarity of a new environment. The crushing of my expectations and the coldness of my new classmates. All of it rushed into my brain at once, fighting for space. I tried to push it down. But the harder I pushed, the more I felt like I couldn’t breathe. My new desk mate looked visibly irritated. He simply pulled his hoodie off, draped it over his head, and went back to sleep on his desk. 3 The bell rang again. The teacher walked in with his lesson plans. Class began. I don’t know if the Honors class paced itself too fast, but I struggled to keep up this period, finding everything obscure and incredibly difficult. My desk mate woke up. He looked at me with an indifferent gaze. Then he suddenly spoke, “You copied that wrong.” My heart skipped a beat, and I looked at him blankly. He forcefully grabbed my pen and quickly jotted down the calculation steps for the major problem on the board. My eyes understood it. But my brain didn’t. I just stared, bewildered. He frowned. “Is the Honors class really this easy to get into?” He lowered his voice again, resting his head back down. “The standard is seriously dropping.” It wasn’t until I went to the restroom that I learned his name. Caleb Wright. The girls from the Honors class were whispering in the bathroom. “The transfer student ended up sitting with Caleb Wright.” “Isn’t that perfect? The one who bought his way in and the one who barely scraped by. They’re a match made in heaven.” Followed by snickering. I don’t know where my courage came from. I burst out of the bathroom stall. I couldn’t catch them; I only saw the backs of two girls turning the corner. 4 The academic pressure in the Honors class was intense. Every student was grinding to get into a top-tier college. When the evening study hall for the Honors class finally ended… My old class had already been dismissed for hours. I packed my backpack, intending to wait and walk out with Ethan. After a brief moment of hesitation, most of the class had already emptied out. Ethan stood up and finally walked toward me. But Chloe called out to him. Her pale cheeks were slightly flushed, looking almost embarrassed. “Ethan, I still don’t get how to apply the formula for this problem…” Ethan stopped in his tracks. He looked at her, then looked at me, torn. “It’s getting really late…” I couldn’t help but remind him. Chloe bit her lip. “Yeah, it’s so late. No one is coming to pick me up today…” Ethan immediately frowned. He shot me an apologetic look. “You should head back first. I’m going to help Chloe study.” He turned back to her. Chloe gave me a look—whether intentional or not, I couldn’t tell. Then, she asked tentatively, “Could you maybe walk me home after…?” In that moment. My heart felt like it leaped into my throat. Then I heard him say, “Sure.” My heart instantly went dead silent. My blank gaze met Chloe’s eyes. The corners of her lips curled up. And she gave me a small smile. 5 I had never left the school campus after nine o’clock. It was completely pitch black out. Only the lights from the Honors building were still on. But the further I walked, the further away the light source became. I quickened my pace. But in the shadows, I thought I saw a figure moving ahead. My heart hammered in my chest. I stopped, but the figure kept getting closer. Instinctively, I pulled out my phone and dialed my speed dial. The screen emitted a faint glow in the dark night. Ring… It connected! But the very next second, the call was hung up. I froze. Dumbfounded, I forgot my fear. Until the figure walked right up to me, and I let out a yelp. Before I could even scream. The person spoke. “With a coward’s guts like that, why even transfer to the Honors class?” I looked up, stunned, meeting Caleb’s eyes. He said he hated weaklings. He told me that if I couldn’t even handle the late hours of the Honors class, I should have quit while I was ahead. He said, in this world, nobody is born obligated to help you. With that, he turned and walked away. Leaving me behind in the dark. I don’t know how much time passed. Faintly, from the direction of the school building, I heard a girl’s silvery laughter. I heard Ethan’s promise. He said, “Chloe, I’ve got your studying covered from now on.” She sounded so delicate and fragile. “But what about your childhood friend? She worked so hard to get into the Honors class. Are you just going to ignore her?” Ethan’s voice paused. “I honestly didn’t expect her to actually pass the test…” The night breeze carried their conversation further and further away. Behind me, not a single trace of light remained. I gripped my phone tightly and sprinted forward. No one is going to help me. Then I’ll walk by myself! 6 I don’t remember how I ran home. I only remember bawling my eyes out once I got there. I couldn’t even articulate why I was crying. When I woke up, my eyes were swollen like peaches. When I went downstairs, I unexpectedly saw Ethan waiting there. He had his hands in his pockets. “What happened to your eyes? “Did transferring classes make you cry?” Just like always, he reached out to pat my head. “I was busy last night when you called. Did you need something?” I dodged his hand. “Nothing. Pocket dial.” Ethan froze. He looked at his hand, then studied me for a moment. “What’s wrong, Mia?” “Nothing.” He suddenly grabbed my arm, looking at me with a complex expression. “What is it? Are you mad?” I turned back, feigning confusion. “No? I just need to get to school.” Ethan followed me. He watched me the whole way, looking like he wanted to say something but swallowing it back. I knew why he was surprised. Ethan and I were the textbook definition of childhood best friends. His dad passed away when he was very young. Back in elementary school, when Mrs. Carter had to work overtime and couldn’t make it home, he was left alone, starving. He would just stare eagerly at my house across the hall. I noticed him and brought over a huge bowl of ribs my mom had cooked. He ate with such relish. He scarfed down two huge bowls. So I brought him two more. After he finished, his eyes sparkled as he looked at me. “Mia, you’re the best. “I want to stay with you forever!” In middle school, some pubescent boys bullied me. They snipped off the braids I had grown out for years. He went absolutely feral and fought the kid single-handedly. Even though he was losing the fight, he viciously yelled at the guy, “Mia is mine! If you bully her, I’ll kill you!” That’s why he loved patting my hair when greeting me. He was terrified someone would cut it again. And I… I had never once dodged his hand before.

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Five years ago, on my birthday, I walked in on my ex-boyfriend and his former flame. My world shattered in that bedroom, but amidst the wreckage of that public humiliation, I met Simon. He had been betrayed too. We were two broken souls who found a twisted kind of symmetry in our pain. People called us a fairytale—the two “jilted lovers” who found a second chance. Eventually, we married. I never imagined that history wouldn’t just repeat itself; it would come back for blood. The day it happened, I had just finished performing a delicate reconstructive surgery on my best friend, Daisy. She was still drifting in the hazy, post-anesthetic fog of the recovery room. I leaned down, whispering instructions in her ear. I told her she had to be careful—no intimacy for at least two weeks. I told her she needed to make sure her boyfriend showed some restraint. The words had barely left my lips when Simon, who had been waiting in the corner of the room, spoke up. His voice was laced with a chilling, restless edge. “Two weeks?” he asked, his tone bored yet sharp. “I don’t think I can wait that long.” I froze. The surgical forceps in my hand began to vibrate against my palm. I couldn’t breathe. He didn’t look at me. He looked at Daisy, his lips curling into a dark, playful smirk as if he were lost in a private, filthy memory. “You have no idea, do you? Every time I was with her, I made sure to call you.” “I’d let her make just enough noise, hoping you’d hear. But you were always too oblivious, Claire. You never caught on.” He paused, a low chuckle escaping his throat. “Take last week, for instance. Your birthday. Remember how she called you crying, saying she was too sick to come to your dinner? I was pinning her to the mattress while she was on the phone with you. I didn’t stop for a second.” “She was so scared you’d recognize her voice that she bit her lip until it bled. And there you were, like a pathetic little saint, whispering comfort into the receiver.” Each word was a shards of glass driven straight into my chest. My blood turned to ice. The man who had rescued me from betrayal five years ago was the one holding the knife this time. Simon, my husband. … I stood there, paralyzed, the sterile air of the hospital room suddenly suffocating. My throat felt like it was filled with dry sand. “Why?” I managed to choke out. My eyes were burning, the heat of the betrayal finally reaching the surface. Simon didn’t even have the grace to look guilty. He actually took a moment to think about it, as if he were weighing a business decision. “I guess because she’s actually willing to please me,” he said casually. “Unlike you. All you do is hover and obsess. You’re paranoid, Claire. You act like a mental patient, constantly looking for ghosts of affairs that weren’t even there… until they were.” “Sometimes, when you push a man away with your baggage, he eventually decides he doesn’t want to come back.” With that one sentence, he shoved me into the abyss. Ever since I caught my ex five years ago, I had struggled with trust. It was my shadow. I would spiral over a stray hair on Simon’s coat or a scent of perfume I didn’t recognize. But every single night, Simon would hold me through my panic attacks. He would look me in the eye with such fierce conviction and swear: “Even if the whole world fails you, Claire, I will never be the reason you cry.” I believed him. I built my entire life on that belief. The reality hit me like a physical blow to the face. “Who started it?” I asked, my voice trembling. Simon hummed thoughtfully. “I did.” “Every time I look at you, I think about the fact that you carried another man’s child in your womb. It makes my skin crawl. That’s why I’ve been slipping birth control into your vitamins for years. I couldn’t stomach the thought of you having my baby after that.” He looked at the sleeping woman on the bed. “Daisy was the perfect choice to give me what you couldn’t.” My heart didn’t just break; it disintegrated. For years, I’d been torturing myself with fertility treatments, thinking my body was failing me because of the complications from my past abortion. I thought I was broken. I didn’t realize I was being poisoned by the man I loved. Daisy stirred, the anesthesia making her moan softly. She murmured, “Simon… baby…” and shifted restlessly. Simon immediately pushed past me, his hand reaching out to stroke her hair with a tenderness he hadn’t shown me in months. I remembered when Daisy first started “dating” this mysterious new guy. She’d bragged to me about how many times they went at it in a single night, the positions, the intensity. I had been happy for her. I’d offered to do this surgery for her for free, as a “bestie” gift, joking about her “sexual wellness.” The irony was a sickening, metallic taste in my mouth. Five years ago, when I was cheated on, Daisy had been the first one there. She’d slapped my ex across the face. “You ever hurt my girl again, I’ll kill you,” she’d screamed. She was my rock. My sister. It was all a lie. A long, orchestrated performance. I walked out of that room. I called my psychiatrist and told them I was done with the expensive prescriptions. Then, I called my lawyer. “I need a divorce. Get the papers ready today.” My colleague from the psych department stopped me in the hallway, her face full of concern. “Claire, you’re in a crisis state. If you stop your meds now, you won’t be able to handle the fallout.” I forced a hollow laugh. “I’ve realized something. I don’t want to be cured anymore.” I went to the pharmacy, bought a bottle of chronic sleep aids, and locked myself in the hospital bathroom. I sobbed until I couldn’t breathe, the pills burning as I swallowed them dry, clutching the porcelain of the toilet to keep from collapsing. My phone buzzed. A text from Daisy. The surgery worked wonders, babe! My guy and I just did it six times! It’s a little sore, but he’s so gentle I forgot the pain. Next time, help me with the ‘restoration’ project? He says he wants to feel like it’s the first time again. The words on the screen blurred. My head felt like it was exploding. When I tried to buy painkillers at the pharmacy counter, the clerk told me my card was declined. Frozen. I checked my feed. Daisy had posted a picture of a designer handbag. My amazing man gave me the keys to the kingdom. Financial freedom feels so good! I laughed at the absurdity of it. I walked home, my body heavy, my feet barely moving. When I opened the door to our penthouse, I found the floor littered with lace lingerie and used condoms. “You…” Simon was sitting on the sofa, a glass of scotch in one hand and a vivid red scratch on his bare chest. “You should really call before you come home, Claire. It’s awkward for everyone if you just barge in.” I stared at the mess. My mind flashed back to five years ago. My bedroom. My ex. The same scene. It was a loop I couldn’t escape. The trauma surged through me like a tidal wave. I grabbed the heavy crystal lamp from the side table and hurled it at him with every ounce of my remaining strength. “You son of a bitch, Simon!” The lamp caught him on the forehead, drawing a thin line of blood. His eyes darkened with rage. “You knew what you were getting into when you married me!” he spat. “Daisy is everything you aren’t. She’s fun. She’s open. She knows how to actually be a woman in bed.” “And here’s the kicker—the doctor called. Daisy’s pregnant. She gave me a child in months, something you couldn’t do in five years. You have no right to be angry.” My soul felt like it was being shredded. The entire hospital knew how much I’d struggled to conceive. The rumors that I was “barren” because of my past were the talk of the breakroom. Simon would rather give a child to my best friend than to me. I pulled the divorce papers from my bag and dropped them on the coffee table. “Sign it. We’re done.” Simon blinked, then a cold sneer crossed his face. “Don’t be dramatic. You’re a plain girl with a messy past, Claire. Without the ‘Mrs. Simon Mitch’ title, you’re nothing.” I didn’t blink. I handed him the pen. He stared at me for a long beat, then snatched the pen and scrawled his name. “Fine. I’ll wait for the day you come crawling back, begging for a second chance.” Simon left. He didn’t look back. He spent the next week taking Daisy to prenatal appointments at my hospital. The work group chats were brutal. Five years and she couldn’t get pregnant? I’d leave her too. I heard she had so many abortions back in the day she scarred her uterus. She probably tricked him into marrying her. I ignored it all. I packed my life into two suitcases while the world gossiped. I fell into a feverish sleep, haunted by nightmares, until a call from the Chief of Surgery woke me. “Claire, get to the hospital. Now. Daisy’s surgery? There’s a complication. A big one.” When I arrived, Simon was waiting in the lobby. He didn’t say a word—he just stepped forward and backhanded me so hard I hit the floor. “You sabotaged her!” he roared, his face contorted with hate. “Her incision is severely infected. You did this on purpose!” The taste of copper filled my mouth. I wiped the blood from my lip. “I didn’t.” Daisy came limping out of the exam room, draped in a hospital gown, weeping. “Claire, I trusted you. I let you operate on me because I thought you were my friend. Did you do this because of Simon? I’m going to be disfigured… I’ll never be able to show my face…” I knew she was lying. I could see the overacting. I stepped toward her to check the wound myself, but she suddenly gasped and threw herself backward, hitting the floor with a sickening thud. “My baby! My stomach!” Simon’s face went pale. He lunged for her, pulling up her gown. The crowd gasped. Blood was everywhere. Simon looked at me, and for the first time, I saw true, unadulterated disgust. “She was your best friend. How could you be this cruel?” I stood there, and then, I started to laugh. It was a jagged, broken sound. “Best friend? She doesn’t even know the meaning of the word.” Daisy whimpered, clinging to him. “I was going to let you be the godmother, Claire… I was going to let you be part of his life… how could you?” Simon turned to his security detail. “Break her fingers,” he said, his voice a low, terrifying whisper. “I want to make sure she never touches a scalpel again.” I fought, I screamed, I begged. “I didn’t do it! Simon, stop!” He didn’t stop. He turned his back. A heavy boot stepped on my wrist. Then, the sound of a bone snapping. CRACK. My scream echoed through the sterile hallways of the hospital where I had saved hundreds of lives. CRACK. CRACK. One by one, they broke the fingers of my right hand. The pain was blinding, a white-hot sun exploding in my brain. Simon covered Daisy’s eyes, whispering that it was “too gruesome” for her to see, as if I was the one being offensive. I collapsed into a heap of agony, my voice gone, my career dead. The Chief of Surgery walked over and dropped a termination letter on my chest. “We don’t employ monsters, Claire. Get your things and get out.” I lay there on the cold tile, gasping for air. “Get her to a room,” Simon muttered, his voice shaking slightly. “Patch her up.” That night, Simon sent me a meal. My favorites. I didn’t touch a bite. I stared at the ceiling until the sun came up. On the day I was discharged, my mother called. She was hysterical. “Claire, the restaurant… they’re destroying the restaurant!” I rushed there, my hand in a heavy cast. My mother’s small bistro—the place she’d spent thirty years building—was a wreck. Simon was there. He threw his phone at me. It was a local news alert: SHOCKING: Private photos of patient leaked by disgruntled surgeon. Allegations of STDs and malpractice. The post included photos of Daisy’s surgery and a forged medical report claiming she had a contagious outbreak. “Your parents leaked these,” Simon said, his voice like dry ice. “Don’t bother denying it. You used them to get back at Daisy. I was willing to let the surgery thing go, but this? You’re trying to destroy her life.” “I didn’t…” I whispered. Suddenly, a bucket of red paint was splashed over my head. A mob of “activists”—Daisy’s followers—swarmed the shop. “Murderer! Malpractice!” “You have no ethics! You’re a monster!” They called for a boycott of my mother’s restaurant. They threw chairs, smashed the windows, and tore the sign from the door. My mother collapsed. Her heart couldn’t take it. She hit the floor, her eyes rolling back. Simon sat in his car, watching through the tinted glass, unmoved. I crawled to his door, begging like a dog. “Please… make them stop… she’s dying…” Simon rolled down the window. He looked at the red paint dripping off my face with pure revulsion. “You’re the ‘Mrs. Mitch.’ Have some dignity. Stop embarrassing me.” He drove away. The tires of his Bentley rolled over my ankle. Snap. I didn’t even scream this time. The pain was just another layer of the void. I looked back. My mother was pinned under a heavy commercial refrigerator that had been knocked over. She wasn’t moving. I tried to reach her, but the mob blocked me, phones out, livestreaming my misery. “Look at the ‘doctor’ now! Justice for Daisy!” I clawed at the door until my fingernails ripped off, leaving bloody trails on the wood. I watched through the glass as my mother took her last breath. My heart didn’t break. It died. The crowd didn’t care. “Apologize to Daisy!” they chanted. I knelt on the pavement, my expression blank. I reached into my bag and pulled out the entire bottle of sleeping pills. In front of the cameras, in front of the world, I swallowed them all. “Oh, look at her acting! Fake pills for a fake suicide!” someone yelled. I kept swallowing until the bottle was empty. The world began to tilt. The voices grew distant. “Wait… she’s actually turning blue. Call an ambulance!” But as the last pill went down, the darkness finally, mercifully, swallowed me whole. Three hours later, Simon Mitch scrolled past a trending notification. His heart stopped as he read the headline: WIFE OF TECH MOGUL COMMITS SUICIDE ON LIVESTREAM; PRONOUNCED DEAD ON ARRIVAL.

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