Category: English

On what was supposed to be the happiest day of my life, my fiancé and I went to get our marriage license. But a strange man suddenly appeared, pointed at me, and shouted, “Honey, I finally found you!” Two children at his side burst into tears and rushed toward me, crying in unison, “Mommy! Mommy!” I had no idea who they were. But my fiancé, without a moment’s hesitation, turned on me, his words like venom. His accusations quickly turned to violence. The strange man, fueled by his own rage, joined in, striking me until I collapsed. Even as I drew my last breath, I couldn’t understand. How could I have two children with a man I’d never met? And why had my fiancé, who had always loved me more than life itself, turned on me so suddenly? When I opened my eyes again, I was back. It was the day before we were supposed to get our license. 1 “Babe, I can’t wait for tomorrow! Once we get that license, you’ll officially be my wife. Get some sleep tonight, okay? Love you.” The sound of Richard’s voice confirmed it—I had been reborn. But before I could even respond, he’d already hung up. In my past life, Richard had always been a perfect gentleman. Before we were engaged, the most intimate he’d ever been was a soft kiss on the cheek. He’d treated me like a precious treasure, showering me with affection and care. But on the day we went to get our license, when that stranger accused me, he hadn’t even listened to my explanation. He’d just started screaming, his fists flying. The terror of my own death had overshadowed the disappointment, but now, the most important thing was to cancel our appointment for tomorrow. I found my parents in the living room, cuddled together watching a movie. “Mom, Dad,” I began. They looked up, surprised. “Ella, honey, why are you still up?” “Did we wake you?” They exchanged a confused glance. I took a deep breath. “Mom, Dad, I’m not getting the license with Richard tomorrow. I’m not going to marry him.” “What?!” “What?! I won’t allow it!” My mom’s reaction was… odd. She had always been against my marriage to Richard. She thought he was irresponsible, immature, and broke. The only reason she’d consented was because I’d threatened to do something drastic. So why the sudden change of heart? Was it because she thought I was treating marriage like a joke? My dad put a comforting arm around her shoulder and turned to me. “Ella, did Richard do something to upset you? Why the sudden change of heart? You know all our friends and family know you’re getting married. The wedding is in two weeks. Everything’s been booked. You can’t just call it off.” “We’ve spoiled you, that’s the problem,” he continued, his voice hardening. “Letting you think marriage is some kind of game!” My voice was steady and firm. “Richard cheated on me. He slept with another woman.” In my past life, I’d waited at the courthouse for two hours before he finally showed up, looking like he’d just rolled out of bed, his clothes a mess, a hickey on his neck he hadn’t even bothered to hide. My mom just frowned, her tone dismissive. “You said he loves you. A man who loves you that much wouldn’t do something like that. You must be mistaken.” I stared at her, a flicker of confusion in my eyes. The old Mom would have been dragging me to Richard’s place to confront him, to defend my honor. But now, she just gave me a cold, detached look, as if I were a stranger, not the daughter she had cherished her whole life. “Well, I’m not marrying him,” I said, my voice resolute. “And I’m not going to the courthouse tomorrow. You can deal with it.” My parents had handled all the wedding arrangements. Richard’s parents had passed away when he was young, and his older brother, who had raised him, had died recently. Now, his only living relative was his sister-in-law. “You can’t just not marry him!” my mother shrieked. “What about our reputation? What will people say?” Her words triggered a flash of memory from my past life. After the stranger had accused me, and everyone was pointing and whispering, my mother had screamed at me, “You’ve brought such shame on this family! How could you be so shameless?” At the time, I had been so focused on defending myself, on trying to explain things to Richard, that I had completely missed how strange my parents were acting. My dad, seeing the confusion in my eyes, quickly tried to placate my mother. I shot them a suspicious glance but said nothing. I just turned and went back to my room. A second chance at life. Nothing was more important than that. And this time, I wouldn’t let that man destroy me. 2 I barely slept that night, the memories of my past life replaying in my mind like a horror film. I was in a daze when I heard my mother’s furious voice from outside my door. “Ella, you get up right now! So that’s why you suddenly didn’t want to marry Richard! You’ve been cheating on him, having kids with some other man!” The door handle rattled. Oh no, I thought. I rushed to the window. A crowd of neighbors had gathered outside, their faces eager with gossip. My heart sank. We lived in a townhouse. My room was on the second floor. There was no way to escape without being seen. While I was desperately trying to think of a plan, my dad kicked open my bedroom door. His face was a thundercloud. “Get downstairs. Now.” My heart pounding, I followed him down. The living room was filled with a gawking crowd. And there, in the middle of it all, was the same man from my past life, with his two children. I thought if I just stayed home, I could avoid him. But he had found me. The two children saw me and rushed forward, clinging to my legs. “Mommy! Mommy!” I frowned, looking down at the two small faces that bore a striking resemblance to my own. No wonder my parents had believed him so easily. Looking at them, a part of me almost believed it too. “I always thought the Miller girl was a good kid,” someone whispered. “Who knew she was so… loose.” “No morals at all! Having kids with one man and then trying to trap another.” “That guy looks old enough to be her father.” “Who cares? Maybe she’s into that.” “In that case, maybe she’d consider me! I’ve never been with a woman, hahaha!” “Me too! Let’s see if I’m her type!” The air was thick with their malicious whispers. I seethed with anger, but my parents just sat on the sofa, their faces impassive, as if they couldn’t hear a thing. “I’m not your mother,” I said, pushing the children away. “Stop calling me that!” They stumbled and fell, their cries adding to the cacophony. The crowd, enjoying the drama, grew louder. “Hey, that’s no way to treat your kids!” the man said, his voice laced with indignation. “You carried them for nine months. You gave birth to them. You’re the one who begged me to have them, and then you just abandoned us.” One of the children looked about eight, the other four. Eight years ago, I was still in high school. It was impossible. Four years ago, I was swamped with grad school applications. I had no time to have a baby. My best friend could vouch for me. In my past life, when Richard was late, I’d asked my best friend, Sarah, to go find him. She’d missed the whole scene with the stranger and the kids. But last night, I had told her I was calling off the wedding. She’d been completely supportive. And when she found out why, she’d vowed to give Richard a piece of her mind today. I pulled out my phone, but the man snatched it from my hand and smashed it on the floor. “Bitch! I heard you were getting married today. Not on my watch!” The screen shattered. My anger flared. “Are you insane?! Look at me! I’m not the person you’re looking for!” He stared at me intently. “Don’t you have a red birthmark on your back? And a black mole on your ass? And another one on your lower back?” He was right. But I didn’t know him. I’d never even seen him before. “If you want to prove I’m wrong, just take off your clothes and show everyone!” Without another word, he lunged at me, tearing at my clothes. I fought back, but he was too strong. The back of my shirt ripped open, exposing the birthmark and the mole to the gawking crowd. A wave of shame washed over me. My face was pale, my lips trembling. “It’s a coincidence,” I stammered, tears streaming down my face. “It’s all a coincidence. I don’t know him…” I looked at my parents, my voice pleading. “Mom, Dad, make him leave…” But they were gone. Seeing that my parents were no longer there, the man grew bolder. He pushed me to the floor. “Let’s see if you’re my woman or not.” His hands were all over me, pulling at my pants. 3 I struggled, but he held me down, his weight pinning me to the floor. Disgust and helplessness threatened to consume me. “Tsk. Still got a good body after two kids. A natural-born whore, aren’t you? It’s been a while. How about you give me a good time right now?” “Get off me!” I screamed, my voice raw with desperation. “Get off! I’ll call the police!” A sharp sting across my cheek. Then another. He’d slapped me, hard. I could taste blood. “The police?” he sneered. “I’m your man. I can do whatever I want with you. I could sell you, and the police wouldn’t do a damn thing. Anyone want a taste? Ten bucks a pop.” “Me! Me!” someone shouted from the crowd. “Me too!” “She’s a hot piece of ass. I’ll pay fifty!” The humiliation was a burning fire in my chest. I wanted to die. But he held me fast. Was this it? Had I been reborn just to die again? “Ella! I waited for you at the courthouse for hours, and you’re here putting on a live show with another man! You fucking slut! You cheated on me!” Richard pushed through the crowd, his eyes filled with disgust as he looked down at me. “Richard, help me…” I pleaded, ignoring the hatred in his eyes. “Help you? You cheated on me, and you want me to help you? Am I a fool?!” He kicked me in the stomach. A sharp pain shot through me, and I cried out. The man loosened his grip. I tried to scramble away, but he grabbed my hair, yanking me back. He then turned to Richard, grabbing him by the collar. “So you’re the one she was marrying. Tsk, tsk, tsk. You’re no better than her. Can’t even clean up your own mess.” He shoved Richard away and started dragging me by my hair. Just then, the sound of police sirens filled the air. “The police are here!” someone shouted. The man’s face hardened. “Who called the cops?!” “I did!” It was Sarah’s voice. A wave of relief washed over me. I was saved. The police dispersed the crowd. My parents reappeared, their faces a mask of concern as they spoke to the officers. “Officer, our daughter is just… promiscuous. She gets herself into these situations. We can handle this ourselves. You don’t need to get involved.” The officer gave me a strange, pitying look. Richard stood by, his eyes burning with rage. The two children huddled by the man’s side, their faces streaked with tears. “Mr. and Mrs. Miller, you know Ella better than anyone!” Sarah’s voice was filled with righteous anger. “You’re just going to believe this man’s lies? She’s your daughter! You’re just going to stand by and let him assault her?!” But they just looked at me with disgust, as if they’d never seen me before. “Who said I was lying?” the man said, pulling out a piece of paper. “I have proof.” It was a paternity test. It clearly stated that Ella Miller was the biological mother of the two children. I demanded another test. Under the watchful eye of the police, a new sample was taken. The result was the same. A 99% probability that I was their biological mother. “Now what do you have to say for yourself?!” Richard sneered. My parents just shook their heads, as if they’d known all along. Only Sarah kept staring at the report, muttering, “This can’t be right… there must be a mistake…” The officer sighed. “Well… this seems like a family matter.” “No!” I grabbed his arm. “Officer, I swear, I don’t know this man! I’m willing to have a medical examination. That will prove I’ve never given birth.” The officer considered this. But then my parents started to make a scene. “A medical examination?! What for? Isn’t the paternity test enough? Ella, are you trying to drag our family’s name through the mud?! Do you want the whole world to know our business?! If that’s the case, I might as well just die!” My mother burst into tears, pretending to be on the verge of collapse. The officer, flustered, tried to calm her down. After a moment, he seemed to agree with her. “Miss Miller,” he said, his voice gentle. “The paternity test is conclusive. You don’t have any siblings. If the children aren’t yours, whose could they be?” His words hit me like a ton of bricks. The pieces of the puzzle, the things I had missed in my past life, started to fall into place. My parents’ sudden change in behavior… it was all starting to make sense. “What if there was a twin?” I blurted out. “Wouldn’t a DNA test have trouble telling us apart?” “Well, there is that possibility, but…” I gripped his arm tighter. “I know who the mother is.”

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Just before bed, a sponsored post popped up on my feed. The algorithm had flagged it as something my husband had “liked.” The title read: A Love That Marriage Cannot Contain: My Knight Will Always Ride for Me. The article was a travel blog, chronicling the author’s trip through the Sahara with her boyfriend. The blogger called herself “Wildcat.” But not a single photo in the post showed her boyfriend’s face. My husband, Caden, is a cop. He doesn’t read this kind of sentimental drivel. And a week ago, he missed the birth of our child because he was away on a “training exercise.” The location? Africa. A coincidence? To be sure, I called him. “Where are you?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. His tone was clipped, impatient. “Still in the Sahara for drills. Can you stop being so paranoid? I’m hanging up.” I froze. Just before the line went dead, I heard it—a soft, distinctly female giggle in the background. … I forwarded Wildcat’s blog to my grandfather’s personal assistant and then dove into her archives, reading every post she’d ever written. There weren’t many, but they all chronicled her adventures with her boyfriend. And in every single one, his face was conspicuously absent. The titles were strange, too. They had nothing to do with travel. A Love That Marriage Cannot Contain. Only the Unloved Choose Marriage. What Drab Housewife Can Compete with a Wildcat in the Sun? My Knight Doesn’t Want a Pregnant Lady. A free-spirited couple, committed to love but not to marriage? My gut told me this was no coincidence. When I checked my social media feed again, the “liked by a friend” feature had been disabled for Caden’s account. I could no longer see his activity. The knot in my stomach tightened. Just then, a message came through from my grandfather’s assistant. “Ma’am, the blogger ‘Wildcat’ is a young woman from the mountains you once sponsored. Her birth name was Cassie Miller. She later changed it and became a travel blogger, spending most of her time abroad.” Suddenly, a memory surfaced. It was right after we got married. Caden, who was usually so reserved, came up behind me and started massaging my shoulders. He told me he’d been on assignment in a remote mountain region and had seen girls who couldn’t afford to go to school. He asked if I would sponsor their education. It was such a rare moment of tenderness from him. I was so touched, I agreed without a second thought. My fists clenched. A sickening suspicion began to form. Just then, Wildcat’s blog updated again. “Hey guys! Next stop is the ancient site of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon! My boyfriend is so worried about me, he’s insisting on coming along to protect his girl! Tee hee!” “Way better than giving birth alone in a loveless marriage, amirite? A real knight by my side is all I need!” A wave of relief washed over me. Caden had said the training exercise was only a week long. He should be home in a day or two. I felt a pang of guilt for doubting him. This was all just a series of bizarre coincidences. He was distant, yes, but that was just his nature. And he had, in his own quiet way, told me he loved me before. Feeling reassured, I sent him a few pictures of our newborn baby. He hadn’t even seen him yet. But hours passed, and there was no reply. I was just drifting off to sleep when the unique notification tone I’d set for his messages chimed. I snatched up my phone. It was a cold, terse update. [Not coming home tomorrow. The squad’s been deployed to the Middle East for a counter-terrorism drill.] The blood drained from my face. The Hanging Gardens of Babylon are in the Middle East. I stared at the screen for a long moment, then immediately tried to video call him. It didn’t even ring for a full second before he rejected it. [What are you doing?! You’re interrupting my training!] His text was sharp, accusatory. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. He had time to type out a lecture, but not one second to answer my call? And what kind of training exercise lets you keep your phone on you? Was I interrupting his training? Or was I interrupting something else entirely? I called again. Rejected. And again. Rejected. Finally, another message came through, laced with fury. [Grace, did giving birth scramble your brain?!] [Do you have any idea how seriously you are compromising my mission right now?!] [So I’m coming back a few days late, what’s the big deal?! You’re getting more and more pathetic!] I was stunned. He was calling me, his wife who had just given birth to his child, “pathetic”? Still, a foolish part of me clung to hope. [Honey, I’m really not feeling well. Can you please just ask for leave and come home?] [Don’t you guys get paternity leave?] [My C-section incision is healing so slowly. The pain at night is so bad I have to take a handful of painkillers just to sleep.] [The baby is so fussy, and your mom won’t let me hire a nanny. I can’t handle this alone.] His response was another barrage of blame. [And you think I can handle it any better?!] [You’re a mother now, a woman in your thirties. Stop being so damn dramatic!] [Every woman goes through this! What makes you so special? So fragile? You’re not a teenager anymore!] His words struck me dumb. I couldn’t believe a husband, a new father, could be so callous. I was about to type a furious reply when I saw it: a red exclamation mark. He had blocked me. From the bassinet beside the bed, the baby, sensing my distress, began to wail. I forced myself up, ignoring the searing pain in my abdomen, and went to soothe him. Looking at his tiny, red, crumpled face, a cold realization dawned on me. Since the moment I went into labor, Caden had not once asked how I was, or how the baby was. Was it really just his “cold nature”? Or was it something else entirely? Utter, absolute indifference. After rocking the baby back to sleep, I opened Wildcat’s blog again, torturing myself by scrolling through her past posts. When I reached the very beginning, I covered my face with my hands as silent, hot tears streamed through my fingers. The dates of every single one of her trips, her “romantic getaways,” corresponded perfectly with every single one of Caden’s “business trips” and “training exercises.” It was true. He was cheating on me. When the tears finally ran dry, a cold, hard calm settled over me. I called my assistant and booked the first flight to the Middle East. Without a word to his mother, I dropped the baby off with the trusted nannies at my family’s estate. The next day, I was standing on the sun-scorched earth of an ancient land. I had to see it with my own eyes. Only then would I let my heart truly die. I used Wildcat’s latest post to find her location, staking out a spot near the ruins of the Hanging Gardens. I disguised myself, wrapped in scarves like a thief. My C-section scar throbbed violently, a pain that even the strongest painkillers couldn’t completely numb, a searing pain that crawled through me like thorny vines. Then I saw her. The blogger, Wildcat. My heart leaped into my throat. She was tan and tall, radiating a vibrant, youthful energy. She was undeniably beautiful. And the man beside her— He stood straight and proud, his handsome face softened by a gentle, adoring expression. An undeniable pair. Anyone would say they looked perfect together. If only the man hadn’t been my husband of ten years. Even the t-shirt he was wearing… I had picked it out for him myself. The world went dark at the edges. There, in front of the ruins of a wonder of the ancient world, my husband was kissing another woman. Wildcat’s post from the night before flashed in my mind: The Gods of Babylon will forever bless lovers who kiss before their temple. It was over. Maybe it was because I had prepared myself for the worst, but in that moment of shattering heartbreak, my first instinct was strangely clinical. I raised my phone and took a picture. Evidence. My heart was a gaping wound, but my mind was crystal clear. For the rest of the day, I shadowed them. I watched Wildcat leap onto Caden’s back like a playful child. Caden—the man who was so stoic with me he’d never once uttered a word of sweet-talk—was now carrying her with a tender smile I had never seen before. I remembered once, by the river at night, I’d asked him to take a picture of me with the city lights. He’d refused instantly. “My hands are for holding a gun, Grace. Not for doing useless things like that.” But now, this same man was patiently taking shot after shot as Wildcat handed him her camera, posing and preening. So, all those third-person photos on her blog… they were taken by my husband, whose hands were “only for holding a gun”? A desolate coldness seeped into my bones. It wasn’t that he couldn’t. It was that I wasn’t worthy of it. I pulled out my phone and dialed his number. His phone rang. I watched him, my expression unreadable. Wildcat leaned over to see the screen, then pouted. I was close enough to hear every word. “Is it that old hag again?” she whined. “Hang up! Or I’ll get mad! Your time is my time! You are mine! She already has your marriage, your love can only be mine! Your eyes, your heart, your body—they all belong to me!” Faced with her tantrum, Caden immediately went to soothe her. My call, unsurprisingly, was rejected. The next time I tried, I’d been blocked. The sun was blindingly bright, but I felt a chill deep in my bones. And this woman, this vibrant, sunny creature, was a willing homewrecker. Just then, another message came from my grandfather’s assistant. As I read the contents, the full, sickening scope of the deception came into focus. Eight years ago, Caden had an accident during a mission in the mountains. He’d fallen into a ravine. His captain called me immediately. Frantic, I’d rushed to the airport, and on the way, I got into a car crash. While I was in the ICU, fighting for my life, my husband, Caden, was in a remote village, celebrating a makeshift wedding ceremony with Wildcat. She was the one who had found him in the ravine and “saved” him. After a few nights alone together, her parents had used her “ruined reputation” to force Caden to marry her, demanding a hefty sum to make things right. I suddenly remembered Caden asking me for thirty thousand dollars around that time. He’d said it was for the widow of a colleague who had died in the line of duty. I had personally funded his dowry to another woman. And shortly after that, he’d approached me with the idea of sponsoring her education. I was the fool. The clown in their twisted little play. If he was going to betray our marriage, then he could not blame me for being ruthless. I didn’t just want a divorce. I wanted to ruin him. I followed them all day, numbly documenting every kiss, every touch, every loving glance. That night, Wildcat’s blog updated again. As I suspected, the photos were all taken from Caden’s perspective. The title was another dagger to my heart: Marriage is Nothing. True Love is Everything! I finally understood. The nonsensical, unrelated titles were her justification. The pathetic mantra of a mistress trying to paint her affair as something noble. To my surprise, she added a little note at the end of the post. [Hey guys, my amazing boyfriend got me a job offer at a Fortune 500 company! Should I take it?] [Oh, and I mentioned I needed a new car today, and he said he’d buy me a luxury car when we get back home! I’m so spoiled!] The comments were a flood of fawning praise. [I’ve followed Wildcat forever! Their love is like a fairytale, and her boyfriend is crazy rich! He buys her designer everything!] [Marry him already, girl! Before someone else snatches him up!] Wildcat replied personally to that second comment. [When you have true love, who needs marriage? Marriage is just a safety net for people who aren’t really loved!] I laughed out loud, a harsh, grating sound. With Caden’s police salary, he couldn’t afford a single one of the designer bags she flaunted. But I, worried he might be short on cash, transferred him hundreds of thousands of dollars in “spending money” every month. He had been using my money to fund his “true love.” Suddenly, my phone buzzed with that special notification tone. Caden had unblocked me. [Cooled down yet? Had a night to think about it?] [If you pull a stunt like that again, I won’t be so forgiving.] [Oh, by the way, the widow of my fallen comrade needs a car. You have that Maybach in the garage, right? Give it to her. It’s the least I can do.] [And talk to your father. I have a friend who needs a senior management position at his company. Make sure you take care of her.] The audacity. The sheer, unmitigated gall. When I loved him, I would have given him the world. I extended that generosity to all his friends and family. That kindness had not only given him the courage to be arrogant but had also fed his greed and his nerve. And now, he was shamelessly asking me to provide for his mistress. This was the man I had loved for ten years. I took a few deep breaths, forcing the rage down, and typed out the compliant, agreeable response he wanted to hear. Pleased with my “reasonableness,” he chatted for a bit longer, even graciously informing me that he had a celebratory banquet with his squad next week and wouldn’t be coming home that night. I simply agreed. After all, the best dishes, and the best dramas, are worth waiting for. I had a very special gift planned for him.

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My girlfriend’s entire family was taken hostage by terrorists. As members of a special operations team, it was our job to rescue them. During the firefight, I took a bullet shielding my girlfriend, Lisa. Just as I was breathing a sigh of relief, thankful for my body armor, I saw blood seeping through my uniform. A quick check revealed the horrifying truth: the vest Lisa had given me wasn’t bulletproof. It was a standard-issue cotton vest. As I stared at her, my eyes filled with pain and confusion, Lisa’s voice was flat, devoid of emotion. “I gave your vest to Noah. He’s new. He doesn’t have your skills. He needed two vests to be safe.” I clutched my side, my voice tight with rage. “You thought he wasn’t safe with one vest, so you took mine? Were you trying to get me killed?” Lisa’s face twisted in annoyance. “Why are you so selfish? Can’t you think about the rookie for once? It was just a vest.” “Besides,” she added with a sneer, “it didn’t hit anything vital. What are you crying about?” I knew arguing was pointless. I patched myself up as best I could and sent a secure message to my father, the director of the agency: Wounded in action. Requesting immediate evac. Mission compromised. Abort. 1 A short while later, Lisa, as team leader, received the director’s order to stand down. She stormed over and grabbed me by the collar, her eyes blazing. “You’re the one who tattled, aren’t you?” “Do you have any idea that my parents and my brother are in there? Every second we waste puts them in more danger.” “And you requested to abort the mission? Are you trying to get them killed?” Her violent shove tore open my makeshift bandage. Blood poured from the wound, pooling at my feet. I pressed hard against my ribs, gritting my teeth against the pain. “We walked into an ambush. The enemy knew we were coming. Going in now is a suicide mission.” “And another thing,” I added, my voice strained, “I’m shot. Is it wrong to call for a medevac?” Before Lisa could answer, Noah chimed in, his voice dripping with condescending sarcasm. “Come on, Mason. You’re a veteran of this unit. Are you really calling it quits over a scratch?” “It’s embarrassing, man.” “Besides, we’re here to save Captain Hayes’s family. Your future in-laws. And you’re just going to walk away?” “Are you a coward, or does our captain just not mean that much to you?” His words acted as a signal. The rest of the team turned on me. “Mason, if you’re scared, you should train harder. Running away just makes you look weak.” “‘No man left behind’ is our motto. You get a scrape and you’re calling for mommy? The other units will laugh us out of the service.” The searing pain was bad enough, but their mockery was a fresh kind of agony. I let go of the wound, pointing to the blood that was now pulsing out in a steady rhythm. “Are you all blind, or did you check your conscience at the door? Does this look like a scratch to you?” The other team members fell silent, but Noah just smirked. “You think getting shot makes you a hero? Stop showing off.” Lisa stepped forward, her expression disdainful. “Why is it that everyone else is fine, and you’re the only one who got shot?” “It’s because you slack off during training. When it comes to real combat, you’re useless. And you have the nerve to complain?” I wanted to defend myself, but the pain was a steel band around my chest, squeezing the words out of me. As the blood loss mounted, my vision blurred. The world started to sway. Thank God I had sent that message. Otherwise, I’d be dead for sure. Just when I thought Lisa would finally order a retreat, I heard her give the command to advance. “Everyone, on me. We hit them now, before they regroup. We take the compound and rescue the hostages.” I struggled to my feet, the pain a white-hot fire in my side. “You… you’re disobeying a direct order?” A smirk played on her lips. “I’m the field commander for this operation. I have the final say.” “And I’m not going to let a coward jeopardize the mission.” Seeing the manic look in her eyes, I knew there was no reasoning with her. “Lisa, I understand you’re desperate. But I’m wounded. I can’t go on. I have to wait for evac.” “No!” Noah cut in before Lisa could respond. His eyes were cold and calculating. “If we leave him here, he’ll tell the director that Captain Hayes deliberately disobeyed orders.” “The only way to protect ourselves is to make him complicit.” “If he dares to say a word, we’ll pin the whole thing on him.” 2 The other team members, intimidated by Lisa and Noah’s authority, quickly agreed. I looked at Lisa, her face an icy mask. “Lisa,” I said, my voice thick with emotion, “including today, this is the fourth time I’ve saved your life.” “The first time was four years ago. I pulled you out of a pile of bodies and carried you for three days and three nights across the desert.” “You cried, you said you’d spend the rest of your life repaying me. You swore you’d never betray me.” “I know I don’t mean anything to you now. But please, for all the times I saved you, just give me a chance to live.” My words seemed to reach her. She hesitated, about to speak, but Noah cut her off. “Lisa, you can’t be soft now.” “Leaving him here will ruin everything! He could sabotage the entire rescue with one call.” At his words, Lisa’s expression hardened. “Stop trying to guilt-trip me with ancient history. That was a long time ago.” “You’re the only one who knows the layout of their compound. If you don’t come, how are we supposed to rescue the hostages?” “That’s right! Mason has to come! No playing dead,” Noah added quickly. Looking at their ugly, determined faces, I knew that reason was off the table. I played my last card. “Don’t be stupid. The director of this agency, Director Evans… he’s my father. If you do this to me, he won’t let you get away with it.” Noah burst out laughing. “That’s hilarious, Mason. I didn’t realize you were so desperate to save your own skin you’d start making up dads.” The others joined in. “Our Director Evans? Why would he have a kid with a different last name?” Lisa slapped me hard across the face. “Mason Turner, I am so ashamed to have ever called you my boyfriend.” “Say one more word of that nonsense, and I’ll put a bullet in your head myself.” She pressed the barrel of her gun against my forehead. I knew they were serious. Arguing was futile. But I had one condition. “Fine. I’ll go with you. But you have to make Noah give me my vest back.” “I’m shot, I can’t move well…” “Shut up!” Lisa snapped before I could finish. “You’re wounded, which means you’re useless in a fight. Why waste a vest on you?” “I’ll say it again. Noah is new. He has no experience. He needs two vests to be safe.” Hearing her say those words, so full of blatant favoritism, was a dagger to my heart. I couldn’t believe that the woman who once looked at me with so much love would now, for another man, completely disregard my life. Ever since Noah joined the team, she’d been different. Obsessed. Her eyes followed him everywhere. I had thought it was just a crush, an innocent attraction. I never believed she would betray years of shared history, of life-and-death situations, for some pretty boy. I was a fool. When I didn’t move, Lisa racked a round into the chamber, the sound echoing in the tense silence. She pressed the gun harder against my head. “Don’t think I won’t pull the trigger. Get up. Now.” 3 Defeated, I clutched my wound and struggled to my feet. “I’ll help you, Mason,” Noah said with a sickeningly sweet smile. Before I could refuse, he slammed the butt of his rifle into my side, directly on the wound. The pain was so intense tears sprang to my eyes. I shoved him away with all my might. “Get off me!” Noah yelped and fell to the ground dramatically. Without a word, Lisa lunged at me, shoving me hard. “What the hell is your problem? Noah was trying to help you!” Noah seized the opportunity to add fuel to the fire. “It’s okay, he’s just mad I’m wearing his vest. I can take it. As long as he calms down and leads us to the hostages, it’s worth it.” His words sent Lisa into a rage. She slapped me twice, hard. “Don’t think you can bully Noah just because he’s a good person. I won’t allow it!” she screamed. “If you hurt him again, I’ll make you pay double!” The slaps were powerful, leaving my ears ringing and my face stinging. But the pain in my heart was worse. I didn’t have the strength to explain, nor the desire. “I can walk on my own.” “It’s not that you don’t need help,” Noah sneered. “You’re just looking for a chance to run.” Lisa shot me a look of pure disgust. “Mason, if you screw this up and my family gets hurt, I will make you regret it.” She turned to Noah. “Watch him. If he tries anything, you have permission to execute him on the spot.” Her voice was cold. “We’re in a combat zone. Accidents happen.” I knew she was speaking for my benefit. I also knew she was capable of it. These were her people. If she gave the order, they would follow it without question. I had to play it smart. I just had to hold on until the evac team arrived. Noah pulled me to my feet and forced me into a run, completely ignoring the fact that my wound was bleeding more and more heavily. After a few minutes of this brutal pace, I was struggling to breathe. Black spots danced in my vision. I felt like my heart was about to give out. Suddenly, shadows flickered in the alley ahead. “Take cover,” Lisa hissed. “Movement ahead.” Before I could react, Noah shoved me forward, throwing me out into the open at the intersection of two alleys. At the same instant, I heard the tell-tale click of a machine gun being loaded just down the alley. I knew I had a second, maybe less, before I was torn to pieces. With the last of my strength, I threw myself toward the corner of a building. The impact was so hard that the crumbling brick wall gave way, collapsing around me. As the wall came down, the air filled with the deafening roar of machine-gun fire. If I hadn’t moved, I’d be dead. While they were engaged in the firefight, I crawled through the rubble and found a small, dark room to hide in. I activated my locator beacon again, praying the evac team would find me soon. The gunfire outside died down quickly. It must have been a small patrol that retreated after making contact. I huddled in the darkness, not daring to breathe. My enemies weren’t just the terrorists. They were my own teammates, who wanted me dead. I stared at the broken doorway, torn between hoping for rescue and fearing who might walk through it. Just as my anxiety reached its peak, the door creaked open. 4 A tall, thin figure stepped inside, a strange, twisted smile on his face. When my eyes adjusted, my heart sank. It was Noah. I curled into a ball, praying he wouldn’t see me. “Don’t hide, Mason. I see you.” I looked up. The bastard was standing right over me. “What do you want?” I rasped. Noah’s smile was predatory. “To help you, of course. My dear teammate.” “Get away from me. The best help you could give me is to leave me alone.” “Don’t be like that. I found some antiseptic. Let me clean your wound.” He reached for my bandage. I tried to fight him off, but I was too weak from blood loss. He tore off the gauze, then jammed his fingers directly into the bullet wound. He ripped the flesh, widening the hole, and a fresh torrent of blood gushed out. “Aaargh!” The pain was unimaginable. I screamed, and with a final, desperate surge of adrenaline, I kicked him as hard as I could. He flew back, slamming against the wall. That kick took everything I had left. Noah wiped a smear of blood from his lip and brushed the dust from his pants. “Just performed a little surgery for you,” he said with a cold smile. “Don’t worry. You’ll be fine soon.” “I’ve never done anything to you… why are you doing this?” “Nothing? You…” Just then, Lisa and the others burst in. Seeing them, Noah immediately collapsed to the ground, clutching his chest. “Mason, I was just trying to help you with your wound! Why did you kick me?” Hearing that I had attacked Noah, Lisa charged at me, but Noah grabbed her arm, stopping her. He didn’t want her to see what he’d done to my wound. “It’s okay, Lisa. It’s my fault. He’s mad I took his vest. He wouldn’t have gotten hurt otherwise. It’s normal for him to hate me.” “Noah, you’re too kind,” Lisa seethed. “But kindness is wasted on some people. Mason is a monster, and he doesn’t deserve it.” “I’m going to teach this ungrateful bastard a lesson he’ll never forget!” She shook Noah off and lunged at me. But as she raised her foot to kick me, she froze, her eyes widening in shock. “You… your wound… it’s so bad. It was just a shot to the ribs. How are your intestines hanging out?” I used my last ounce of strength to point at Noah. “He… he did this…” “He means I was the one who bandaged him up,” Noah interrupted smoothly. He adopted a look of grave concern. “He was like this when I found him. He must have caught it on something when he was running.” He looked around at the others. “As it stands, there’s nothing we can do for him. It’s time for us to make a decision.” Lisa’s face was filled with worry. “What do you mean?” “I mean he’s not going to make it. We can’t take him with us. If the terrorists find him, he’ll compromise our position.” “The best thing we can do is end his suffering now. It’s a mercy, and it protects the team.” He said it with such conviction, as if he was doing me a great favor. The others hesitated. Noah pressed on. “If you’re not worried about him giving us all away and getting us killed, then fine. Forget I said anything.” That did it. Lisa nodded grimly. “Do as Noah says. We’ll be helping Mason… easing his pain.” With the captain’s approval, the others reluctantly agreed. Noah brought over a basin of water and a stack of paper towels. “We’ll each take a towel, soak it, and place it over his face. It will only take a few minutes.” “This way, we’re all involved. No one can snitch.” Hearing this, the others dropped their reservations and started soaking the towels, pressing them over my nose and mouth. With each new layer, it became harder to breathe. Just as I thought I was about to suffocate, the door burst open. A team of operators stormed in, their leader shouting, “Stand down!” Everyone froze.

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I was raised by my grandmother. When she died, she left behind four houses. In her will, Grandma Rose divided the properties, one for each of her four sons’ sons. One house for each of my cousins. My name wasn’t mentioned once. My uncle, Ben, sobbed uncontrollably, but then his tears dried up as his eyes started sizing up the mahogany furniture around me. “Ava,” he said, his voice suddenly stripped of grief, “this house belongs to your cousin now. I’ll give you two days to pack your things and get out.” He paused, adding as an afterthought, “My mother loved her vintage silk gowns. She had over twenty of them in that wardrobe. You can take those, as a little something to remember her by.” I nodded, tears blurring my vision. That night, I saw my grandmother in a dream. She was smiling, and she asked if I was angry with her for leaving me nothing. I shook my head, crying, and told her I didn’t want the property, I just wanted her back. Grandma Rose stroked my hair, her touch feeling impossibly real. “Oh, my sweet girl, such foolish words,” she murmured. “Now, listen to me. Get up and open that wardrobe. Grandma’s left you a little something special.” 1 The memorial in the living room had just been taken down. Tomorrow, I would have to leave the old house I had called home for fifteen years. My parents died in a car crash when I was three. It was Grandma Rose who pulled me back from death’s door, feeding me warm broth and soft porridge, one spoonful at a time, nursing me back to life. She was a formidable woman, tough as nails with everyone but me. With me, she was always soft. If it hadn’t been for the sudden heart attack, she would have been with me for many more years. I’d spent the last few days weeping until I felt hollowed out. But my four wonderful uncles, upon hearing of her death, had a first reaction that was chillingly uniform. “So… what did Mom leave behind?” I handed them the envelope my grandmother had prepared three years ago. Inside was a single phone number. My third uncle, Frank, his hand trembling, dialed the number. A lawyer arrived shortly after. He was dressed in a crisp black suit, his face an emotionless mask as he opened his briefcase and produced the will. “…The four properties under my name will be inherited by my grandsons: the eldest, Will; the second, Leo; the third, Jake; and the fourth, Finn. Each shall inherit one house.” As the last word was spoken, a collective, audible sigh of relief filled the room. The men deflated as if they, not the woman lying in the cold casket, had been the ones holding their breath. My fifth uncle, David, even patted his chest, a smirk playing on his lips. “Thank God Mom wasn’t senile. At least she knew better than to leave the family assets to an outsider.” As he spoke, his eyes darted pointedly in my direction. I said nothing. It felt like a hollow cavity had been carved into my chest, and a bitter wind was whistling through it. Grandma Rose used to say, “A woman makes her way in this world with her own two hands and the skills she carries.” She had already given me the greatest gift by raising me; I never once thought to fight for these material things. The lawyer packed up his documents. Before he left, he gave me a long, meaningful look. At the time, I didn’t understand the depth of what he was trying to convey. The crowd dispersed, leaving only Uncle Ben behind. He started by squeezing out a few crocodile tears, pulling me into a theatrical hug. But halfway through his performance, his gaze began to wander, appraising the fine lines of the furniture. “Ava, don’t be too hard on your grandmother,” he said, patting my shoulder. “This house belongs to your cousin now. Business is business, you understand. It’s just not right, a young woman like you living here alone.” He cleared his throat, putting on an air of generosity. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll give you two days. Pack up and be out.” I clenched my fists, my nails digging so deep into my palms I should have felt pain, but I felt nothing. Uncle Ben didn’t notice. His attention was now fixed on the closed doors of my grandmother’s wardrobe. “Oh, right. Mom adored those old silk gowns of hers. There are more than twenty in there. The fabric’s probably a bit dated, but the styles are classic.” “Take them,” he offered magnanimously. “A keepsake.” Tears streamed down my face as I nodded. The old clothes they scorned were the last tangible connection I had to her. After the burial that afternoon, they were all gone. The sprawling house was suddenly, terrifyingly empty, filled with nothing but the echo of my own memories. That night, I slept in my grandmother’s bed, the scent of her favorite sandalwood soap clinging to the sheets. I buried my face in her pillow and cried for hours, finally drifting into an exhausted sleep just before dawn. And then, I dreamed of her. She was wearing a stunning, moon-white gown, sitting right on the edge of the bed, watching me with a gentle smile. “My sweet girl,” she whispered. “Are you angry that Grandma left you nothing?” I threw myself into her arms, the embrace feeling so warm, so real. “I don’t want anything,” I sobbed. “I just want you back.” Grandma Rose stroked my hair and sighed. “We all have our time to arrive, and our time to leave, my dear. I can protect you for a while, but not for a lifetime.” “Now, get up. Go and open that wardrobe.” Her voice held a spark of mischief. “Grandma’s left you a little something special.” 2 I jolted awake. A glance at the digital clock on the bedside table showed 3:00 AM, sharp. My grandmother’s words from the dream were seared into my mind, as clear as if she’d just spoken them. My heart hammered against my ribs. As if moved by an unseen force, I slid out of bed and switched on my phone’s flashlight. The narrow beam cut through the darkness, landing on the enormous rosewood wardrobe in the corner of her room. Everyone knew what was inside. Just twenty old gowns. But for her to come to me in a dream… there had to be more to it. Taking a deep breath, I pulled open the double doors. The next second, the blinding glint of gold nearly seared my eyes. I stumbled back, the phone almost slipping from my grasp. Steeling myself, I crept closer, my heart pounding. Inside, the twenty gowns hung in a neat row. But under the focused beam of my flashlight, every single one of them was shimmering with an impossible light. It wasn’t the sheen of silk. It was… the gleam of gold. My hand trembled as I reached out to touch the nearest gown, a deep emerald green one. The touch was cool, unyielding, with the distinct heft of metal. It was only then that I saw it clearly. This wasn’t silk at all. The entire gown had been woven from threads of pure gold, each as fine as a human hair. And the phoenix embroidered on the chest with colored silk thread… its eyes were two pigeon’s-egg-sized rubies. I gasped, my breath catching in my throat. I turned the light to the sapphire-blue gown next to it. Its traditional knotted buttons were a row of perfectly round, lustrous black pearls. The silvery-white one beside that had its hem dusted with crushed diamonds that fractured the light into a thousand dazzling stars. Twenty gowns. Twenty masterpieces crafted from gold thread, rubies, diamonds, pearls, and the finest jade. Any single one of them was worth enough to make my four uncles, with their eyes glued to property deeds, tear each other apart. I stared, mesmerized, my heart threatening to beat its way out of my chest. This wasn’t a wardrobe. It was a vault. A king’s ransom disguised as old clothes. My mind buzzing, I took a step back and fumbled for the light switch on the wall. Click. The room was flooded with bright, even light. And just like that, the golden shimmer from the wardrobe vanished without a trace. I froze, then rushed back to look. They were just twenty gowns, hanging neatly in a row. Under the bright overhead light, they looked like ordinary silk and brocade. Beautifully made, certainly, with intricate stitching and vintage charm, but utterly devoid of their previous otherworldly glow. It was as if I had imagined the whole thing. My hand shaking, I reached out and switched the ceiling light off again, leaving only the weak, narrow beam of my phone. The miracle happened again. The gleam of gold thread, the fire of gemstones, the soft luster of pearls—they all burst forth in the focused light, a treasure trove so brilliant it hurt to look at. I understood everything in that instant. Oh, Grandma. My clever, clever Grandma. She had foreseen it all. Who would ever think to look for a fortune hidden in such an unbelievably clever way? And who, in the dead of night, would examine a rack of “unwanted old clothes” with nothing but a single, narrow beam of light? Only me. Her Ava, who loved her so much that I would be up at all hours, missing her. Grandma Rose used to say, “Never depend on anyone else. Always look one step ahead, think one step ahead, and only then, take your step.” She hadn’t just left me the means to stand on my own two feet; she had meticulously planned how I could secure it safely. An overwhelming wave of love and sorrow washed over me. I pressed my hand to my mouth, choking back silent sobs. But after the tears, a far more practical problem presented itself. How was I going to get all of this out of here without anyone noticing? I was being kicked out tomorrow. These twenty gowns were incredibly heavy. I couldn’t possibly move them all by myself. And if I hired a moving company, my four vultures of an uncle would surely see. Even if they couldn’t tell what the gowns were made of, the sheer weight and secrecy would make them suspicious. If that happened, I feared I wouldn’t make it out of this house, with or without the treasure.

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1 In the eight years I was married to Andrea Chabrol, I never once laid eyes on our son. The moment he was born, Andrea whisked him away to the family estate. He’d sighed, his voice laced with a weary resignation. “Seraphina,” he’d said, “marrying you was already an exception. When it comes to the heir’s upbringing, my parents will not bend.” He’d looked at me then, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. “Besides, with your level of education and background… do you honestly think you can raise a worthy successor?” I swallowed the bitter pill of my inadequacy, telling myself this was just how these old-money families operated. Until last night. For the very first time, my son asked to see me. My heart was bursting, every fiber of my being humming with the joy of finally meeting him. But the first words out of my seven-year-old son’s mouth were: “So you’re the mistress my dad keeps on the side?” The world screeched to a halt. My head whipped around to face Andrea. … Panic flashed across Andrea’s face. He immediately tried to hustle our son out of the room. “Where did you learn such language? That’s disgraceful! Go home right now and copy your calligraphy exercises, ten times!” But the reprimand only fueled the boy’s anger. He dodged Andrea’s hand and ran towards me, shoving me hard. “You really are something else! You didn’t even have to say a word to get my dad to punish me!” he sneered. “Today, I’m going to teach you a lesson for my real mom! You filthy homewrecker!” I stared at the small, furious face before me, a face that was a near-perfect mirror of my own. A crumpled, sour dread began to churn in my stomach. “Don’t you know,” I started, my voice trembling, “I’m the one who…” “Seraphina! That’s enough!” Andrea’s roar cut me off. Confused, I opened my mouth to protest, but just then, a woman walked through the door. The scent of expensive perfume wafted from her sleek, dark hair. The tailored trench coat she wore fit her like a second skin. She had the unmistakable air of someone who had been coddled her entire life, untouched by hardship. Her eyes flickered over me, a subtle, dismissive glance that made me instinctively tuck a stray strand of my own coarse, dry hair behind my ear. Then, she walked right past me and ruffled my son’s hair. “There you are. You ran off again. Mommy’s really going to have to let Daddy punish you this time.” My son melted into her arms. “Mommy, I’m sorry! You have no idea how horrible this woman is!” My hand, still hovering near my ear, froze. A chill crept through my veins. So she was the “Mommy” he was talking about. Andrea’s childhood sweetheart—Isabelle Vance. She had always been the Chabrol family’s first choice for a daughter-in-law. Her family was their social equal, and she and Andrea had grown up together. I was just the poor scholarship kid who had managed, by sheer academic force, to walk the same university halls as him. So even when Andrea had chosen me, his parents had never stopped accusing me of being a gold digger. That was when I started working myself to the bone, desperate to prove I didn’t need their money. Andrea would secretly slip his credit cards into my purse, but I never touched them. I knew it was his way of respecting my pride while still worrying about me. Then, he’d taken our son to the estate, citing his “education.” Seven years had passed, and he had never once let me see him. “Do you have any idea how much a mother’s genetics influence a child?” he’d argued. “Don’t you want what’s best for our son? Just wait. Once his character is formed, my parents will let you see him.” I had always believed we loved and understood each other. I trusted him. I respected his decisions. But Isabelle—the woman my son was now calling “Mommy”—hadn’t even gotten into a real university. Her family had donated a building to get her a diploma. It finally hit me. It wasn’t that my education was insufficient. It wasn’t that this was some sacred, old-money tradition. It was simply that they could not bear for the world to know that the mother of the next Chabrol heir was an ordinary woman. It wasn’t just his parents. Even Andrea had never truly respected me. The realization was a punch to the gut, stealing the air from my lungs. By the time I came to my senses, Andrea was already leading our son out the door. I took a step forward, but Isabelle blocked my path. She smiled, a cold, sharp thing. “I wouldn’t waste your energy. Both Andrea and the boy… they belong to me.” I ignored her, my heart pounding with a desperate urgency. I tried to push past her. Isabelle let out a short, sharp laugh and grabbed my arm. “Are you deaf?” Her long, pointed nails dug into my flesh, leaving angry red marks. I tried to pull away, but her grip was like steel. After a moment of struggling, I finally looked up, my eyes burning. “I don’t want Andrea anymore,” I choked out. “I just want my son.” 2 The words felt raw and foreign in my mouth. The moment my son called her “Mommy,” my world had shattered. Ten months I had carried him. And even though I was never allowed to see him, the primal, unconditional love of a mother had always been there. I had swallowed seven years of longing, telling myself it was for his own good, so he could have the best education imaginable. Even my friends couldn’t understand. They’d urged me to adopt, to have a child by my side, something to hold onto. I had been horrified by the suggestion. Now, I saw how foolish I’d been. How could I have been so naive? How could I have trusted Andrea so blindly? The regret was so intense I wanted to die and start over. Isabelle’s lips curved into a smug smile. “What are you thinking? You didn’t know? I was the one who was afraid of the pain of childbirth, of ruining my figure. That’s why Andrea had you do it.” “Andrea will never be yours,” she continued, her voice a cruel whisper. “And the child will never be yours. Because from the moment he was in your womb, he was destined to call me Mother.” Her words were a physical blow, leaving me stunned and reeling. For a moment, I thought I must be hallucinating. “What are you talking about?” “Think about it,” she said, her tone dripping with contempt. “If I had been willing to give birth, do you really think someone like you would have ever been worthy of carrying a Chabrol heir? You, a low-life from the gutter, you reek of poverty. How could the mother of the next Chabrol be someone with no background, no name? Tell me, does that sound right to you?” She reached out and twirled a strand of my hair between her fingers, then burst out laughing. “You were just ashamed of yourself a moment ago, weren’t you? You know it, too. From head to toe, not a single hair on your head can compare to mine.” My private moment of self-doubt, laid bare and mocked. A hot flush of humiliation washed over me. I yanked her hand away. But as I pulled back, Isabelle suddenly crumpled to the floor in a graceful heap. I froze. Even though I knew she was faking, my first instinct was to help her. But Andrea, who had just put our son in the car, was already rushing back. He didn’t hesitate. He slapped me, hard, across the face. “If you have a problem, you take it up with me! I was the one who told him to call her ‘Mommy’! What do you get out of bullying her?” His eyes bored into me, cold and accusatory, like I was a criminal. The stinging pain on my cheek was a stark reminder of a time when his eyes had held nothing but tenderness for me. Even when we fought, I’d never seen such pure hatred in them. They say you can see love in a person’s eyes. I don’t know when it changed. But in that moment, as the force of his blow resonated through me, I realized I no longer cared. Andrea gently lifted Isabelle from the floor and settled her on the sofa. “Are you okay? Where does it hurt?” Isabelle’s eyes filled with tears, her lower lip trembling. “Everywhere,” she whimpered. “I think I twisted my ankle.” Andrea was beside himself with worry. He spun around and yelled at me, “What are you waiting for?! Get the first-aid kit! She was raised in comfort, you think she’s tough like you?!” Watching them, it all became painfully clear. Once, after I’d fallen during a track meet in college, he had been just as frantic, practically carrying the school nurse to my side. Now, his concern was just for a different person. I silently retrieved the first-aid kit and handed it to him. As he took it, I heard myself say, “Andrea, let’s get a divorce.” “The house, the cars, the money… I don’t want any of it. I just want my son.” His hand, which had been gently massaging Isabelle’s ankle, froze. 3 He slowly looked up. His eyes scanned my reddened cheek, but there was no flicker of remorse. “I was just upset,” he said flatly. He rummaged through the kit, pulled out a tube of anti-inflammatory gel, and tossed it to me, completely ignoring my previous statement. I didn’t catch it. I just watched it clatter onto the table. He hadn’t even offered a simple “sorry.” Andrea’s hand, still holding the gel, paused mid-air. When he saw I wasn’t going to take it, he dropped it on the table. “You were the one in the wrong. Being overly dramatic will just make you seem pathetic.” A chill went through me. It was in that moment I realized that in our relationship, Andrea had always seen himself as the one in power. That’s why he would never apologize, never consider my feelings, never listen to what I had to say. Even when I discovered that he had let my own son call another woman “Mother,” he felt no need to explain himself. I had thought we were equals, that we at least had mutual respect. Isabelle sighed dramatically. “Darling, it’s not a big deal. Please don’t be angry.” She then clamped a hand over her mouth, feigning a mistake, and looked at me apologetically. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I’m just so used to calling him that in front of the boy. You understand, don’t you? It’s important for a child’s development to have both a mother and a father figure.” I could only laugh coldly. “He has a real mother. I’ll be taking him back, so you won’t have to play pretend anymore.” Isabelle’s eyes instantly filled with tears. “I’ve been with him for seven years,” she cried. “He’s like my own son. You can’t just take him away! Do you know his favorite food? Do you know which classes he hates? Do you know which little girl in his class always wants to play house with him? You know nothing! Are you even fit to be a mother?” She paused, turning her head away to wipe a tear. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “I lost control. I just don’t think you are a qualified mother.” Andrea wrapped an arm around her, comforting her. “You didn’t say anything wrong. It’s okay, don’t cry. No matter what anyone says, this family and our son will only ever recognize you as his mother.” I was shaking with rage. Her words were like daggers, carving into my heart. She had stolen my role, my life, and now she was calling me unqualified. Just as I was about to retort, I felt a force from behind. I stumbled forward, catching myself just before I fell. I turned around. It was my son, his little fists flailing at me. “You ugly homewrecker! You bullied my mommy! Go to hell! You’re shameless! You bitch!”

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The day I was welcomed into the lap of luxury, I was told my only purpose. I was to be a spare heart for the family’s golden girl, Vivian Thorne. My biological parents, my own brother, and even my fiancé—they all orbited her, their true sun. My fiancé, Kurt Ducey, tilted my chin up with his fingers, his voice devoid of any warmth. “Your job is to be her shadow. You will take her place, fulfill the engagement she cannot.” He leaned in, his words like chips of ice. “Once Vivian is well, I’ll give you a handsome sum of money and you will disappear.” They drew my blood, locked me away, and forced me to mimic every facet of Vivian’s life, all to keep her entertained while she withered away on her sickbed. Until the day of the transplant, as I lay on the frigid operating table. I smiled at their anxious faces behind the glass. “What if I told you her heart condition is hereditary?” I asked, my voice echoing faintly in the sterile room. “And what if I told you… I’m not related to any of you by blood?” … I calmly signed my name, Elena, on the “Living Organ Donor Consent Form.” They called it a “familial gift.” The ink was barely dry before my so-called mother, Eleanor Thorne, was already snapping at the staff. “Quickly, take Elena for a blood draw. Vivian needs to build up her strength.” A nurse’s cold needle slid into the delicate skin of my arm. My blood, my life force, began to drain, drop by drop, into a plastic bag. Not far away, Vivian, lounging on a plush sofa, wrinkled her perfect nose. “Mother, the smell of blood is so strong. It’s making me feel ill.” Eleanor instantly rushed to her side, cupping a hand over Vivian’s nose, her voice a syrupy coo. “There, there, my sweet Vivi. It will be over in a moment.” She never looked at me again. I might as well have been an IV stand. After the draw, the world swam in black spots. I reached out a hand to steady myself against the wall. My father, Richard Thorne, approached, not with a comforting arm, but with a platinum card, which he pressed into my palm. “There’s a hundred thousand dollars on this. For your nutritional expenses these next few months.” His tone was that of a shrewd investor closing a deal with a guaranteed high return. “Keep your body in prime condition. Don’t disappoint us.” I clenched the card, my nails digging into my flesh. Just then, the door opened, and a tall, imposing figure strode in. It was my fiancé, Kurt. He walked straight to Vivian, his eyes melting with a tenderness I had never seen. “How are you feeling today?” Vivian offered him a fragile smile. “Oh, Kurt, I feel so much better now that you’re here.” His gaze finally fell on me, as cold and impersonal as if he were looking at a piece of furniture. He tossed a thick binder at my feet. “Memorize this. It’s a complete file on Vivian—her likes, dislikes, her favorite phrases.” His voice was sharp. “When I take you out to company events, you will not slip up. You will not tarnish her image.” I was given the room next to Vivian’s. It had no windows, only a single, unblinking security camera mounted in the corner. They called it “convenience of care.” It was a 24/7 surveillance cell for their precious investment: my heart. My first day as a shadow was spent at the piano. Kurt loved to hear Vivian play Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata.” My fingers fumbled over the keys, striking a clumsy, discordant note. My brother, Miles, who had been standing guard, stormed over, his boot connecting with the piano bench in a violent crack. The bench flew out from under me, and I crashed to the polished floor. “Useless!” he snarled, looming over me, his face a mask of undisguised disgust. “You can’t even do this one simple thing right? What good are you?!” That night, my stomach twisted with hunger pangs. I crept to the kitchen, only to find scraps and leftovers. From Vivian’s room next door, I could hear the warm bubble of laughter as the family celebrated her “stable condition” for the day. I retreated to my cage in silence. From a hidden seam in my luggage, I retrieved a small razor blade I had concealed. I drew a thin crimson line across my fingertip. The sharp sting of it was a shock to my system, grounding me. I needed that pain to fight the creeping numbness, the soul-crushing despair they drowned me in every day. A few days later, Kurt needed me for a corporate gala. Vivian was feeling too weak, so her understudy was called to the stage. I was dressed in a white gossamer gown identical to one of Vivian’s, with the same subtle makeup she favored. At the party, one of Kurt’s friends swaggered over, a glass of champagne in hand, his eyes raking over me with a suggestive smirk. “Changing things up, Ducey? This one looks a lot more innocent than Vivian.” Kurt’s arm snaked around my waist, his grip so tight I thought my bones might crack. He smiled at his friend, a chilling smile that never reached his eyes. “Just a cheap knock-off,” he said, his voice smooth as silk. “Borrowed for the night.” I froze, the blood turning to ice in my veins as a ripple of condescending laughter spread through the group around us. When we returned to the Thorne mansion, the moment I stepped through the door, a stinging slap sent my head snapping to the side. Eleanor stood before me, her face contorted with fury, pointing a trembling finger at my face. “Who told you to drink juice at the party?!” she shrieked. “Don’t you know Vivian is allergic to mangoes? What if it affects your body?!” Her features were twisted with a rage that was terrifying to behold. “That body belongs to Vivian, not you! You get that through your head!” I held my burning cheek, staring into her hateful eyes, and felt a profound, chilling silence descend upon my soul. In that silence, a seed of hatred, black and poisonous, finally broke through the soil. Vivian’s condition took a sudden downturn; her heart rate became erratic. The family doctor announced that she needed another large blood transfusion to stabilize. I was forced into a chair, watching my own life drain away again. 400cc this time. Already anemic from malnutrition, my vision tunneled to black and I fainted. I awoke on the cold, hard floor. My vision cleared to see Richard, Eleanor, and Miles huddled anxiously around Vivian’s bed. “Vivi, my darling, how do you feel? Is it any better?” “It’s all that Elena’s fault. Her body is so weak, her blood must be poor quality!” Miles turned, and seeing me awake, the loathing in his eyes was palpable. He strode over and hauled me to my feet with one brutal tug. “Listen to me, Elena,” he hissed, his face inches from mine. “I swear, if you pull another stunt that affects Vivian, I will make your life a living hell.” I staggered, dizzy and nauseous, but couldn’t utter a single word. To make me a more convincing replica, Eleanor began giving me personal “etiquette lessons.” She wielded a long, wooden ruler, smacking my legs and back to correct my posture, my gait, even the curve of my smile. “Vivian smiles at a fifteen-degree angle, not twenty!” CRACK. The ruler struck my shins, a hot, searing pain. “Again!” Kurt appeared again one afternoon, holding a beautifully wrapped gift box. He didn’t hand it to me; he dropped it at my feet. “Change into this,” he commanded. Inside was a champagne-colored dress, an exact copy of one in Vivian’s closet. “Vivian adores this dress, but she’s too frail to wear it now. You’ll wear it for her.” I changed in silence. The dress was a size too small, the fabric straining against my skin, constricting my breath. Kurt looked me up and down, a frown creasing his brow. “You’re thin as a wraith. You have none of Vivian’s charm. It’s pathetic.” Dr. Finch, the elderly family physician, came for my routine check-up. He had kind eyes and a gentle demeanor that felt entirely out of place in this house. While taking my blood pressure, he deftly pressed a small, wrapped candy into my palm. In a voice so low it was almost a whisper, he said, “Child, don’t give up.” The hard candy dissolved on my tongue, a sweetness so intense it was almost bitter. My eyes burned with unshed tears. It was the first, and only, drop of warmth I had received since entering this gilded cage I was supposed to call home. As Vivian’s strength returned slightly, she began to torment me with renewed vigor. She made a point of being affectionate with Kurt in front of me, draping herself over him while her eyes, sharp and venomous, stayed locked on me. “Oh, Elena,” she’d purr, “you don’t mind, do you? After all, Kurt’s heart has always been with me.” Kurt would cast a cold glare in my direction. “Stop staring at Vivian like that. If you upset her, you’ll pay the price.” I would lower my gaze, burying the inferno of my hatred, my nails digging crescents into my palms. I stopped sleeping. Every time I closed my eyes, I was back on that operating table, the blinding light, the scalpel. I asked Eleanor for sleeping pills. She sneered, but agreed. “Good. A sleeping girl can’t get any foolish ideas.” One afternoon, I was carrying a glass of water through the living room when Vivian subtly stuck her foot out, tripping me. I went down hard. The glass flew from my hand, shattering her favorite crystal vase. Richard came home from work to find the glittering shards on the floor and Vivian’s eyes red-rimmed with tears. He exploded. Without asking a single question, he pointed a finger at my face and sentenced me to kneel on the stone patio for the entire night. Around midnight, the heavens opened up. A torrential rain began to fall. I was soaked through in minutes, shivering uncontrollably as a fever began to burn through me. Through a haze of delirium, I thought I saw Dr. Finch again. He administered a shot that cooled the fire in my veins. And then he leaned close, whispering something in my ear that shocked me back to full, terrifying clarity. “Your blood type is a match, of course. But I noticed something…” “…several of your other genetic markers show minute, but distinct, discrepancies with Mr. and Mrs. Thorne.” “It’s… not normal.” After the fever broke, I became more “obedient” than ever. I even offered to personally cook soup for Vivian as an “apology.” Seeing me so “sensible,” Eleanor allowed it. I used my time in the kitchen to secretly collect the disposable paper cups Richard and Eleanor had drunk from. I sealed them carefully in a plastic bag and hid them under my mattress. Now, I just needed a way out. So I began to act. I became withdrawn, staring at walls for hours. I would burst into tears for no reason. I was becoming a nuisance, and my erratic behavior finally frayed Eleanor’s nerves. She was afraid my mental instability would compromise the quality of the heart destined for her daughter. “Miles, take her out,” she ordered. “Buy her a cat, a dog, whatever. I can’t stand this deathly gloom!” With a cold scowl, Miles practically frog-marched me to a pet store. I pretended to be engrossed in a litter of kittens in a glass enclosure. The moment he stepped away to take a call, I slipped out the back door. A man in a baseball cap was waiting in the alley. He was a contact from a third-party genetics lab, arranged for me online by Dr. Finch. I handed him the sealed bag from my pocket. “Rush order. I need the results as soon as possible,” I said. “The money is already in your account.” The man nodded, took the package, and vanished down the alley without a word. I slipped back inside just as Miles was ending his call. He shot me a suspicious look. “Where did you go?” “I… I just used the restroom,” I mumbled, keeping my head down, playing the part of a frightened mouse. He waved a dismissive hand. “Have you picked one yet? Stop dawdling.” He leaned in, his voice a low threat. “This is the last time. Make another request for anything, and I’ll break your legs.” I returned to the mansion clutching a small, fluffy kitten. A few days later, it was Vivian’s birthday. The Thornes threw a lavish party, a veritable who’s who of the city’s elite. I was dressed in a servant’s uniform and ordered to remain in a corner, on standby. In case Vivian felt faint, I could be whisked away for an emergency transfusion. During the party, Kurt’s grandfather, a formidable patriarch with an air of old-world authority, spotted me. His gaze was sharp, filled with appraisal and distaste. He pulled Kurt aside, and I caught fragments of their conversation drifting over. “…bloodline…” “…reputation…” “…unseemly…” Kurt’s expression soured instantly. Vivian, the belle of the ball, was showered with extravagant gifts. After opening them, she floated over to me, a glass of champagne in hand. She plucked the most cheaply wrapped gift—a small music box—from a nearby table and held it out to me. “Here, Elena. This is for you. You look so lonely over here.” The guests nearby tittered. It was a calculated, public humiliation. I looked up at her and produced a grateful, almost subservient smile. “Thank you, Vivian.” I took the music box and hugged it to my chest as if it were the most precious treasure in the world. The moment I turned away, the smile vanished from my face, replaced by a mask of cold fury.

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The hospital lab exploded with a deafening roar, trapping me and Seraphina King, the golden girl of St. Augustine’s General, in a roaring inferno. My boyfriend, Liam, made his choice in a heartbeat. He abandoned me for her. I didn’t scream for him. I didn’t beg. I just watched as he left me to the mercy of the flames. I knew this would happen. In another life, I’d played my trump card—revealing I was the hospital director’s daughter—and used the threat of his career to force him to save me. Seraphina had died in that fire. And Liam, after inheriting my family’s fortune, had waited until I was nine months pregnant, locked me in that same lab, and burned me and my unborn child alive. As I’d pleaded for our lives, he’d sneered, his face a mask of cruelty. “Phoebe! If you hadn’t blackmailed me with your family’s power, Seraphina would never have died so horribly!” His voice had been a venomous hiss. “I’m going to make you suffer everything she felt, a hundred times over!” When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Back to the day of the fire, trapped with Seraphina King. … CRACK! The sound of splintering wood jolted me back to consciousness as a heavy cabinet crashed down on me. Pain, sharp and blinding, ripped through my body. I fought to see through the thick, acrid smoke that clawed at my lungs, my eyes watering as I doubled over in a fit of violent coughing. A deep, pulling ache radiated from my lower abdomen. Instinctively, my hand went to my stomach. “Baby… just hold on…” But where my swollen, near-term belly should have been, there was only flatness. What… how? Before the thought could fully form, a frantic voice cut through the haze. “Seraphina! Seraphina! Are you okay?” That voice. It was so familiar. From the other side of the room, Seraphina’s weak reply drifted through the smoke. “Liam… help me…” I lifted my head, my heart seizing in my chest. There was Liam, kneeling beside Seraphina, desperately trying to heave a collapsed table off her. The sight of them stole the air from my lungs. Wait… didn’t Liam just lock me in a lab? Didn’t he burn me alive? And my baby… A wave of agony, so profound it was physical, washed over me. I curled into a ball, my body trembling uncontrollably. From the doorway, my colleague Alison’s voice was a desperate shriek. “Liam! Are you insane? Get Phoebe out of there! She’s your girlfriend!” The scene was so terrifyingly real. This wasn’t a nightmare. I had been reborn. Reborn into the day I was trapped in the fire with Seraphina King. With a final, grating screech of metal, Liam wrenched the table free. He didn’t even glance my way as he scooped Seraphina into his arms and bolted for the exit. A bitter, humorless laugh escaped my lips. Just like last time. I was his girlfriend, but he only had eyes for her. Of course he did. Seraphina was beautiful, the resident goddess of St. Augustine’s. And the rumors were she was the heiress to the King Medical Group. Liam, ever the opportunist, must have fallen for her long ago. I tried to push myself up, but the cabinet pinned my legs. Shards of glass had sliced into my calf, and the floor around me was slick with blood. I couldn’t move. Liam finally seemed to notice me. His eyes held no concern, only a cold, deep-seated annoyance. He scowled. “Seraphina is a King. If anything happens to her, the whole hospital goes under! I’m thinking of the big picture here!” He waved a dismissive hand in my direction. “You’re not hurt that bad. I’ll get her out, then come back for you.” I almost laughed again. If I hadn’t lived this once before, I might have actually believed his noble lie about the “big picture.” I was bleeding out on the floor, and to him, I wasn’t “hurt that bad.” Alison, bless her heart, tried to rush into the inferno, but another colleague grabbed her, holding her back. “Alison, stop! The lab is full of flammable chemicals! It’s too dangerous!” He was right. I remembered. This lab was a ticking time bomb, with maybe fifteen minutes left before a secondary, catastrophic explosion. In my last life, I’d been rescued and immediately screamed for everyone to evacuate, saving their lives. Liam had wanted to go back for Seraphina, but one look at the intensifying blaze had been enough to kill his courage. So how could I possibly believe he’d come back for me this time? I knew he wouldn’t. But I wouldn’t let the people who actually cared about me die for his mistake. Propping myself up on my elbows, I used every ounce of strength I had to yell, “Alison, don’t come in! It’s going to blow! Get everyone out of here! Run!” The word “blow” made Liam freeze in his tracks. He whipped his head around, his eyes locking onto me with an icy disbelief, as if seeing a stranger. “Phoebe, when did you become so manipulative?” “The fire department will have this contained in thirty minutes! What do you think our colleagues will think of me now that you’ve screamed that?” he seethed. “Why can’t you be more like Seraphina? Why can’t you have a shred of kindness?!” The sheer hypocrisy of it all was so absurd, I actually did laugh. “You didn’t seem to mind my ‘manipulative’ side when you were fucking me, did you?” That struck a nerve. But Seraphina, ever the damsel, tugged weakly at his collar. “Liam, I don’t feel so good…” Instantly, his attention snapped back to her, his expression softening. “Hang on, Seraphina. I won’t let anything happen to you.” With that, he turned and ran, leaving me behind without a second glance. Gritting my teeth against the searing pain, I shoved at the heavy cabinet. The agony was immense, but compared to the memory of being burned alive… this was nothing. Alison slumped to the ground in disbelief. “Liam! You bastard!” she screamed after him. “The Director will have your head for this!” Alison was the only one at the hospital who knew my father was the director. Her threat only earned a cruel, mocking laugh from Liam. “The Director?” he called back, his voice dripping with scorn. “Please! Seraphina is the sole heiress to King Medical! He’d have my head if anything happened to her!” I finally managed to squirm out from under the cabinet. The movement tore the wounds on my leg wider, staining my lab coat a deeper crimson, but I didn’t care. I had to live. Time was running out. “Don’t beg him!” I screamed at Alison. “Just run!” I would never forget it. The insane glint in Liam’s eyes as he doused me in gasoline in my last life. There was no love left, only a roaring, consuming hatred. He ignored my screams, ignored the baby in my womb, and lit the match. I finally understood then. He blamed me for Seraphina’s death. He hated me that much. The memory was still burning behind my eyes when Alison, ignoring the flames, plunged back into the lab. “Phoebe! Hang on!” The smoke was a physical thing, choking me, blurring my vision. But through the haze, Alison’s small, determined figure was crystal clear against the backdrop of fire. “Are you fucking crazy? Get out!” I roared. She ignored me, gritting her teeth as she hooked an arm under mine, hauling my dead weight up and dragging me, step by agonizing step, towards the door. The air was scorching, blistering our skin. I saw a lock of her hair catch fire, the ends glowing like embers, but she didn’t even flinch. She just kept pulling me forward. Looking at her soot-stained profile, a storm of emotions churned inside me. I glanced at my watch. We were out of time. Any second now, we’d both be history. Taking a ragged breath, I shouted over the roar of the fire, “Alison, on three, we dive for the door! Don’t look back, just go! You hear me?” “You can count all you want,” she yelled back, her grip tightening. “I’m not letting go!” A warmth spread through my chest. No more words. I fixed my eyes on the doorway. Our only hope. Three! Two! One! “JUMP!” I shrieked, launching myself forward and pulling Alison with me with every last bit of my strength. BOOM! The world exploded behind us. We had barely cleared the threshold when a concussive blastwave threw us across the hallway. My eardrums felt like they’d been shattered. My vision went white, my hearing replaced by a high-pitched, unending shriek. “Phoebe! Phoebe! Can you hear me?” I don’t know how long I was out. Alison’s frantic voice slowly filtered through the ringing in my ears. I forced my eyes open. “I’m… I’m okay… my leg…” Alison’s gaze followed mine down to my leg. Her face went pale. “It’s bad. Don’t look. I’ll… just wait here!” She scrambled away, her footsteps echoing down the hall. Moments later, she returned with a few colleagues and a stretcher. The look on their faces when they saw my leg said it all. A young resident gasped, “My God… how many stitches will that even take?” Every inch of my body felt broken, but I clung to consciousness. As they rushed me through the ER, I saw Liam. He was holding Seraphina, stroking her hair and whispering reassurances, as if he hadn’t just left his girlfriend to die in an explosion. As if he had nothing to do with any of it. A head nurse I was friendly with gently examined my injuries, her face a mask of pity. “Oh, Phoebe, you poor thing… So many fractures. It could take a year for you to fully recover.” Her voice cracked with emotion. “Thank God your right hand is okay. You’ll still be able to operate once you heal.” I tried to smile, to say something, but the pain was a gag in my mouth. The nurse leaned in, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “That Seraphina, you know? I heard she just has a few scratches. The way Dr. Collins was fussing over her, you’d think she was dying…” Alison heard her and finally snapped. She marched over to Liam and jabbed a finger in his face. “You! You are the most disgusting piece of—” Before she could finish, Seraphina let out a delicate little cough. “Liam,” she whispered, “I’m feeling a bit tired.” Liam’s attention was instantly hers. “Just hold on, Seraphina, help is coming,” he murmured softly. Then he looked up, his gaze sweeping over me with utter indifference before landing on Alison. “Phoebe’s fine, isn’t she?” he snapped. “This is between me and her. Why don’t you mind your own business?” I stared at his smug, revolting face, and the words came out, low and clear. “From now on, there is no ‘us.’” “We’re done.” Alison nodded fiercely. “Good. No point trying to reason with an animal.” Liam looked stunned, as if the thought of me leaving him was impossible. “Phoebe, what is this? What game are you playing now?” A cold laugh bubbled up from my chest. “Play you? You aren’t even worth the game.” I fought back the tears that threatened to spill, locking my eyes on Seraphina. “You chose to save another woman over your own girlfriend. Is that what you call being a boyfriend?” Seraphina’s tears came on cue, streaming down her perfect face. “Phoebe… how can you say that to him?” she sobbed. “He just knew you were stronger than me. He had faith in you! He chose to save the person who needed him more…” The hallway devolved into chaos—Liam’s angry accusations, Seraphina’s pathetic weeping, and the murmurs of onlookers drawn by the drama. “Well, the goddess has a point. She’s so fragile, of course she needed help.” “Yeah, Dr. Collins made a tough call for the good of the hospital. Dr. Cattrall is just being dramatic.” “And let’s be real, Miss King is from the King Medical Group… saving her was the smarter move.” Just then, my father rushed in, having just flown back from an overseas conference. Liam’s entire demeanor shifted. He practically beamed as he intercepted him. “Director! The lab exploded… I managed to save Miss King, at great personal risk.” He puffed out his chest. “And she said she can help strengthen the partnership between King Medical and our hospital!” My father’s face hardened. “Where is Phoebe Cattrall?” Liam, assuming my father was about to reprimand me for the accident, quickly threw me under the bus. “Director, she and Miss King were the only ones in the lab. I’m certain Miss King made no mistakes. This accident is entirely Phoebe’s responsibility.” He didn’t stop there. “She’s been rescued and her injuries aren’t severe. But I recommend she be kept away from lab work in the future. Miss King can handle the project on her own.” My father’s expression grew darker with every word. I lay on the gurney, a cold, vengeful smile playing on my lips. Just wait, Liam. Without me to protect you, you’re about to find out what real suffering is. The world tilted, and before I could even register my father’s face, everything went black. … The next time I woke up, it was evening the following day. My limbs were encased in heavy plaster and bandages, immobilizing me completely. But I felt… reborn. “Phoebe!” Alison, her face etched with exhaustion but her eyes bright with relief, rushed to my bedside. I tried to lift a hand to her, but a fresh wave of pain shot through me. Seeing my state, her composure crumbled. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “You idiot! Do you have any idea how badly you were hurt?” I managed a weak smile. “At least… I got to keep my life this time.” This time, I owed Liam nothing. And this time, neither my father nor I would die. “You…” Alison sobbed and laughed at the same time, fumbling for a tissue. “I told your dad everything that happened. He was so furious he’s calling a full incident review meeting for tomorrow morning!” At the mention of my father, my own eyes filled with tears. Last time, because of me, he lost everything… “Alison…” I struggled to compose myself. “There’s one more thing I need you to do for me…” “Anything. Just name it.” “The lab… the security footage from before the explosion. Can you… can you get it for me?” Alison gently smoothed my hair back. “Don’t you worry,” she said with a reassuring smile. “I already have it. There was a little… hiccup… trying to get it, but I took care of it.” I looked at her, guilt washing over me. In my last life, Liam had convinced me Alison was just jealous, that she was trying to undermine me. We’d had a massive fight, and I’d cut her out of my life. I died without ever getting the chance to apologize. How could I have been so blind? Trading a diamond for a shard of glass. I was about to close my eyes and rest when Liam walked in. Trailing behind him was Seraphina. She looked completely untouched, not a hair out of place, casually flipping her hair and drawing the gazes of everyone in the ward. And then there was me, a broken doll held together by plaster and gauze. Alison took a deep breath. “Well, look at the goddess,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Not a scratch on her.” Liam ignored her, walking over to my bed and reaching for my hand. I flinched away in disgust. He didn’t seem to register his own fault in the slightest. In fact, he smiled. “See, Phoebe? You’re fine.” “Seraphina said she’s going to push for a closer partnership between King Medical and our hospital. My promotion is basically guaranteed. Aren’t you happy for me?” A choked, incredulous laugh escaped my lips. “Happy? I almost died in that lab, and you want me to be happy for you?” Seraphina sighed dramatically, her eyes narrowing. “I never realized how selfish you were, Phoebe. Willing to destroy Liam’s future over a little jealousy… frankly, I find it pathetic.” I fixed her with an icy stare. “You want to talk about destroyed futures? Let me tell you something. The moment Liam chose to leave me in that fire, his future was already over.” Liam pointed a finger at me, his brow furrowed. “Phoebe! Seraphina came here out of the goodness of her heart, she was even going to apologize to you, and this is how you treat her? Don’t forget, I’m your boyfriend! Instead of being grateful, you’re cursing me?” “This dead-end job of yours barely pays the bills! Everything I do is for our future!” The man standing before me was a monster. I fought to keep my voice steady. “Liam, let me remind you, we are broken up. Now get the hell out of my room.” The argument had drawn a crowd. Murmurs rippled through the onlookers. “I mean, Dr. Cattrall is okay now, she should just let it go. What’s more important than her boyfriend’s career…” “If it were me, I’d just take the hit. When Dr. Collins gets his promotion, she’ll benefit too.” … Alison spun around, her eyes blazing. “You have no idea what you’re talking about, so shut your mouths!” she roared at the gossiping faces in the doorway. “The Director is holding an incident review tomorrow! We’ll see who’s laughing when the truth comes out!” Liam, who usually treated Alison like she was invisible, finally looked at her. “What are you talking about? What incident review?” Alison planted her hands on her hips, her eyes darting pointedly towards Seraphina. “That’s right! A meeting to determine exactly how the lab accident was caused! I’m sure some people know exactly what happened!” At her words, Seraphina visibly flinched. The color drained from her face, and she swayed as if she might faint, the picture of fragile beauty. Liam immediately wrapped a protective arm around her. “Seraphina, don’t be scared,” he soothed. “It’s okay. I believe you.” She melted into his embrace, her tear-filled eyes gazing up at him. “Liam,” she whispered, her voice trembling, “you won’t believe their lies, will you? I tried to warn Phoebe in the lab, I really did…” She paused, shuddering as if recalling a terrible memory. “I told her… to be careful… but she wouldn’t listen… she said I was being nosy… and then… then it exploded… I tried my best… I really wanted to save her…” The crowd, which had quieted down, now erupted in a fresh wave of condemnation aimed at me. “So it was Dr. Cattrall’s mistake that caused the explosion…” “No wonder Dr. Collins didn’t save her. The goddess was the innocent one…” Seeing Seraphina so helpless and vulnerable ignited Liam’s fury. He rounded on me, his face contorted with rage. “Phoebe! So you were at fault and you refuse to admit it? If you apologize to Seraphina right now, I might put in a good word for you at the meeting tomorrow, save you from—” Alison and I exchanged a knowing glance. I cut him off. “If you two get on your knees and apologize to me right now, I might consider showing you a shred of mercy tomorrow.” Seraphina gave a faint, mocking smile. “Phoebe… I’m only trying to help you. Why must you be so ungrateful?” I was done with them. I pressed the call button for the nurse. The head nurse bustled in, pushing through the crowd. “What’s going on?” I pointed at the two of them. “Last I checked, Dr. Collins and Dr. King don’t work in this department. Why are they so far from their posts?” The nurse, who already disliked Liam, crossed her arms. “Dr. Collins, perhaps you should leave. Dr. Cattrall just came out of a full night of surgery and needs to rest.” Seeing that his intimidation tactics weren’t working, Liam could only point at me, sputtering, before grabbing Seraphina’s hand and storming out. Alison watched me for a long moment. “You’ve changed,” she said quietly. I managed a wry twist of my lips, half bitter, half self-deprecating. “Dying once has a way of helping you see who’s a man and who’s a dog. It’s an expensive lesson, though.”

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The year I turned thirty, all my single friends married. Even my mother, who’d always opposed my dating, finally relented. “When are you getting married?” she’d ask pointedly each time I visited. “You’re almost thirty…” Before I could answer, my boyfriend Jackson would cut in sincerely, “Auntie, it’s my fault. Phoebe and I are engaged—we’ll set a date after New Year.” His earnestness and her smile made me believe our rocky relationship was finally heading toward a happy ending. But before the wedding, I dropped by his office. On the company photo wall was a collage from a recent team trip—Jackson in every shot with another girl: hiking, boating, cycling. She leaned against him, smiling brightly as if staking her claim. That night, we had our worst fight. I accused; he called me paranoid. “She’s just a kid who sees me as a brother,” he argued. Later, I unlocked his phone. My chat was muted. His only pinned chat was with a cute cat avatar—the girl sharing daily details, him replying patiently to every message. A bitter smile touched my lips. All those times he’d ignored me, his care had gone to her. Fine. He could have her. I didn’t want him anymore. 1 It was three in the morning when the bedroom door creaked open. Jackson sat on the edge of the bed, his head bowed, lost in thought. After a long silence, he placed a small box on my nightstand. The sound of the shower running startled me. I opened my eyes and looked at his phone on the pillow beside me. A new message notification glowed on the screen. As if possessed, I swiped it open. As I scrolled through his chat history, my suspicions were confirmed. My conversation was muted. While he had nothing to say to me, he had endless words for another girl. Over the past six months, his replies to her had evolved from cold and perfunctory to patient and engaged, culminating in a daily exchange of life’s trivialities. [Are you asleep? Thanks for driving me home.] [Let me buy you dinner to say thank you! (cute cat emoji)] [Goodnight, sweet dreams~] The bed dipped beside me as he lay down. The phone’s light flickered. He was silent for a long moment before he turned and wrapped his arms around me. “You’re awake?” “I’m sorry,” he murmured into my hair. “Something came up today. I couldn’t make it to your wedding dress fitting.” “My business partner had an emergency. He asked me to drive his sister to the next city for a dance troupe audition. He said it was crucial for her future…” “I thought I could make it back in time.” His excuses felt hollow, flimsy. My hand, clenched into a fist, felt strangely weak, as if all the strength had been drained from my fingertips. It was like trying to hold onto sand, watching it slip through the cracks. It was a bitter, helpless feeling. A familiar sting pricked my eyes, and a tear escaped, landing on the back of his hand. He flinched as if burned. He sighed, pulling me closer, burying his face in my neck. “I’ll be more careful from now on,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “I’m sorry.” “We’ll reschedule the fitting.” “Once this project is done, we’ll go abroad for our wedding photos, okay?” His warm breath ghosted across my skin, followed by a trail of soft kisses. The temperature in the room began to rise, but a single, stark question cut through the haze of intimacy. “Jackson, do you still want to marry me?” 2 I met Jackson when I was eighteen. After graduation, it seemed I had finally earned a sliver of my mother’s approval by outperforming the child of her ex-husband—a constant, invisible competitor in my life. It felt like the only way to divert her attention, even for a moment, was to be better, to be more successful. But I always seemed to disappoint her. In my junior year, a story I wrote was adapted for the school play. Watching my words come to life on stage planted a seed in my heart. As I continued to trudge through the endless, joyless calligraphy and violin lessons she forced on me, that seed began to sprout. I wanted to make my own choice, just once. I didn’t choose the practical, stable career path she had laid out for me. For the first time in my life, I defied her. The price was being thrown out of the house. I had less than twenty dollars to my name. She was trying to break me, certain I would come crawling back, ready to fall in line. If it hadn’t been for my best friend, I probably would have ended up on the streets, just as she’d predicted. To pay for tuition and living expenses, I slept four hours a night and worked every other waking moment. I was a waitress at a diner at dawn, a barista in the afternoon, and a clerk at an internet café late into the night. It was exhausting, but I had never felt so free. Then, on an ordinary afternoon, filled with the drone of summer cicadas and the tinkle of a wind chime, he appeared. A boy who carried the heat of the summer in his bright, intense gaze. He burst into my life and changed everything. 3 The next morning, he was gone. Staring out at the sunlight, my mind drifted back to the night before. My question had been met with a long, heavy silence. His passionate kisses had stifled any further words, and the unresolved topic had been buried. I rubbed my temples. A glint of light caught my eye. Sometime during the night, he had taken the ring from the box and slipped it onto my finger. The diamond sparkled, so bright it made my eyes water. … To reassure me, it seemed, Jackson started coming home for dinner every night, no matter how busy he was. We would curl up on the sofa and watch cheesy soap operas. On weekends, he would take me to plays and late-night movie premieres. We would walk home under the stars, just like we used to. For a while, it felt like we had gone back in time. My mother once told me I couldn’t even bake a decent cake, unlike my stepsister, who excelled at everything. Our tenth anniversary was coming up. I decided I wanted to bake Jackson a cake. Late one night, after he’d fallen asleep, I tiptoed into the kitchen. Following a video tutorial, I carefully measured and mixed. Slowly, a cake took shape under my hands. It turned out I wasn’t completely useless after all. 4 The next morning, as I reminded Jackson to take the wedding invitations with him, I caught a glimpse of a restaurant reservation on his phone. My heart skipped a beat. A flicker of hope. The sun was shining. I hummed as I pruned the wilting roses on the windowsill. After getting dressed up, I picked up the cake and headed to his office. I hadn’t been there in a long time. Perhaps too long. The receptionist stopped me at the door. “Hi, I’m here to see Jackson.” “Do you have an appointment with Mr. Thorne?” I shook my head. She was new. Her expression soured when I said his name, her tone shifting. She glanced at the cake in my hand. “No appointment, no entry.” I was taken aback by her hostility. I tried calling Jackson, but he didn’t answer. She rolled her eyes and started texting someone. “Please leave,” she said, her voice sharp with impatience. Just then, Liam, Jackson’s best friend and business partner, stepped out of the elevator. The receptionist’s face lit up. “Liam! You’re here!” Liam smiled back, then his eyes fell on me. He looked surprised. “Phoebe? What are you doing here?” “Am I not allowed?” I asked, a smile playing on my lips. He quickly backtracked. “Of course, you are! I just haven’t seen you here in a while. Why are you waiting out here?” He glanced between me and the receptionist. “Come on in.” “Liam!” the receptionist protested. “She doesn’t have an appointment…” Liam’s expression darkened. “This is Mr. Thorne’s fiancée. She doesn’t need an appointment.” The girl’s eyes widened. I shot her a questioning look before following Liam inside. Behind me, I could hear her urgently speaking into her phone. In the hallway, I asked casually, “When did that receptionist start? Is she a relative of someone?” “A friend asked me to give her a job,” he said, rubbing his nose. “She’s new. Don’t mind her.” 5 As we entered the main office area, a sweet aroma hung in the air. There was a small, elegant dessert on every desk. “This is amazing! Did Mr. Cheng’s sister make this?” one woman whispered. “Yeah, this is the second time this month, right?” “Don’t forget the cookies from last week!” I walked into Jackson’s office. It was empty. On his desk was a half-eaten slice of cake and a bag of almond cookies. My fingers tightened on the ribbon of the cake box. “You’re here.” Jackson looked surprised to see me, a flicker of something strange in his eyes. “Why didn’t you call?” “I did. You didn’t answer,” I said flatly. He patted his pockets, then came over and took my hand. “Sorry, I was in Nick’s office. My phone wasn’t with me.” His gaze fell on the cake box. Just as he was about to speak, a cheerful voice came from the doorway. “Jackson! Time for lunch! When are we leaving?” A young woman with a bright, sunny smile walked in. She froze when she saw me. I looked her over. She was pretty, with fair skin and a youthful energy that was impossible to ignore. “And you are?” I asked, turning to Jackson, though I already knew the answer. He squeezed my hand. “This is Nick’s sister, Tessa,” he said, his voice low. I stared at him for a long moment, then let out a cold laugh. The girl looked at me nervously. “You must be Phoebe. It’s nice to meet you. Jackson talks about you all the—” “Where are you two going?” I cut her off. Tessa looked at Jackson, flustered. Jackson stood up, pulling me with him. “Just to grab some lunch. You haven’t eaten, have you? Join us.” She looked like she wanted to protest, but seeing our joined hands, she just lowered her eyes and forced a smile. 6 In the parking garage, as Jackson opened the passenger door for me, his eyes instinctively darted towards Tessa. My heart, which had been tentatively warming up, was instantly doused in ice water. A lump formed in my throat. The car ride was tense. We were each lost in our own thoughts. A sad, melancholic song played on the radio. Who, I wondered, was the real third wheel in this relationship? … The restaurant was a new, trendy spot that was impossible to get into without a reservation. We knew each other so well; a single glance could speak volumes. As he held the door for me, he didn’t even spare Tessa a look. “Welcome. Do you have a reservation?” Jackson showed them the text from that morning. It felt like a cruel joke. The waiter led us to a private room. Almost every dish on the table contained almonds. Jackson and I both hated almonds. It was painfully obvious who this meal was for. My heart sank. I leaned forward, my hands clasped under my chin. “Do you two have lunch together every day?” I asked Tessa directly. She stammered, “I… I just graduated and I haven’t found a job yet. My brother’s been busy at lunch, so…” Jackson cut in, his brow furrowed. “Her brother just got a girlfriend. He asked me to look after his sister. I saw she was alone at the office, so we just grabbed lunch together.” “Phoebe, don’t misunderstand,” Tessa added quickly. “It’s just…” “Didn’t you know he has a fiancée?” I interrupted. “Do you think it’s appropriate to have lunch with an engaged man every day?” She was speechless. Jackson’s face darkened. “Can you stop being so paranoid? Now I can’t even have a meal with a friend?” “A friend?” My voice rose. “An engaged man, spending every day with another woman—you think that’s normal?! You promised me!” “Jackson was just being nice to me…” Tessa started to explain, but her phone rang, cutting her off. She quickly excused herself. A moment later, she rushed back in, her eyes red, her knuckles white as she gripped her phone. “Jackson! The dance troupe just called! There was a mistake in my application, and I have to resubmit it by five o’clock today! It’s the last day… Can you please, please drive me? I won’t make it in time!” Jackson shot up from his seat, completely forgetting about me. “Don’t worry, I’ll take you.” I grabbed his wrist. “You can’t go.” He turned, his eyes filled with disappointment and impatience. He yanked his arm away. “Can you stop being so unreasonable?!” I stared at his retreating back, my voice hoarse. “Jackson, have you forgotten what day it is?” He paused for a fraction of a second, then walked out without looking back. And just like that, the last thread holding me together snapped.

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The System bonded with me just as I finished whipping Sierra Bright. A shrill, static shriek erupted in my mind. [Host, stop! She’s the female lead! The one who’s destined to kick you out of your home and leave you for dead in the streets!] My gaze drifted down to Sierra. She was kneeling at my feet, hands bound behind her back. Expanses of pale skin were bare, crisscrossed with the angry red welts I’d just left. As if sensing my eyes on her, she lifted her head. Her expression was a blank mask, her eyes as cold and empty as a winter lake. Not a flicker of emotion. The System’s voice trembled. [Host, it’s not too late! Untie her! Put some ointment on her wounds! Ask her if she’s cold, if she needs anything…] I let out a cold laugh and slapped her across the face. A dog that bites just needs to be taught its place. 1 Sierra’s head snapped to the side from the force of the blow. Her breath came in sharp, ragged gasps. Her chest rose and fell, her legs pressed tightly together. She looked like she was at the very edge of her control. I gripped her chin, forcing her to meet my eyes. Sierra’s gaze was a black, suffocating void. It had a way of making you feel pinned, even when she was the one bound and kneeling, covered in marks. There was no sense of defeat in her, only a coiled, predatory stillness. The kind that promised she would rip your throat out the second she was free. “Do you know why I hit you?” I asked. She said nothing, just stared, her eyes burning into mine. I patted her cheek. “If you don’t know, then you can stay on your knees.” “Kneel here until I wake up from my nap. Then we can go to class together. How does that sound?” I stood up and walked past her toward the bedroom. The leg of my trousers brushed against her cheek. Her dark eyes shuttered, and after a long moment, she slowly closed them. 2 Sierra was a toy I’d acquired by chance. She had the looks, the brains… it didn’t take long for her to become a campus legend after starting university. I saw her around a few times and decided I wanted her. I pursued her, but she acted as if I didn’t exist. It was the first time I’d ever been rejected, and the blow to my ego was significant. So, I had her investigated. It turned out her family was dirt-poor and her mother was gravely ill. No matter how many part-time jobs she killed herself working, she could never scrape together enough for the medical bills. Conveniently, I had more money than I knew what to do with. Our relationship was simple. I paid her bills, and she played the part of my dog. I have a vindictive streak and a long memory. The flicker of attraction I felt for her wasn’t nearly enough to erase the humiliation of being ignored. And that face of hers… every time she looked at me with those placid, emotionless eyes, I felt an overwhelming urge to make her feel something. I wanted to rip open her prim white blouses, to leave my mark on her flesh. But Sierra rarely showed any emotion. Even when I hit her hard, she would only gasp for breath, glaring at me, stubbornly refusing to make a sound. It was as if she knew exactly what I wanted to see, what I wanted to hear. And so she denied me, her face a mask, her lips sealed. 3 But now, thanks to the System, I had some new information. Apparently, the world I lived in was a novel. Sierra was the protagonist, destined to rise from the ashes and become a titan of the business world. And I was the villain. The sadistic asshole who subjected her to endless humiliation in the early chapters. The first thing Sierra did after clawing her way to the top was to eliminate me. The System also informed me that Sierra and I had, in fact, been switched at birth. My own biological mother was the one who had swapped us in the hospital nursery. So, the life of immense wealth and privilege I enjoyed was a sham. Sierra was the true heiress. I was just the impostor. One of the novel’s major “satisfying” plot points, I was told. For me, however, it was anything but satisfying. I had no desire to live Sierra’s life of miserable poverty. I couldn’t stomach a single one of the hardships she endured as a matter of course. The System was practically weeping in my head. [Then why are you still hitting the female lead, Host?! This will only make her hate you more! When the truth comes out, your fate will be even worse than what was written in the book!] [Hurry up and untie her! Apologize! Let her go!] “No,” I said, cutting it off. “Remind me, what is it you’re supposed to do?” The System sulked. [My purpose is to help you raise the female lead’s affection score, thereby changing your tragic ending.] [It’s my fault for arriving so late… you’ve already been treating her like this for a month. Forget raising her affection score, we’ll be lucky if it’s not in the negatives!] “Why don’t you check what her affection score is for me right now?” I suggested. The System muttered as it ran the scan. [I’ll eat my own code if it isn’t negative… Affection Score: 95%?!?] [That’s impossible!] [Is this a bug?!] [Something is seriously wrong! Either I’m broken, or the female lead is broken… Who gets whipped every day and falls more in love? Is she a psychopath?!] I yawned. “She is.” You can suppress your emotions. You can control your expression. But you can’t fake a physiological reaction. Every time I laid a hand on her, Sierra’s face remained a mask of cold indifference, but her body betrayed her. A flush would creep up her neck, staining her ears crimson. A sheen of moisture would film over her eyes, making them glisten. She thought she had it all under control, but every pore of her skin was screaming for me to come closer, to touch her, to punish her. But I never truly gave her what she wanted. 4 During the university’s anniversary festival, I had a run-in with an old acquaintance. Mark, my roommate from freshman orientation. Back before my family’s influence was widely known, he’d spread a rumor on the campus gossip blog that I was being kept by some rich old cougar. I confronted him directly, threw a wad of cash in his face, and publicly humiliated him. Then I had my lawyers send him a cease and desist letter. He ended up posting a tearful apology video, which made us both infamous on campus. He’d avoided me like the plague ever since. Now, for some reason, he’d found his courage again. And all because I’d sent Sierra to grab me a bubble tea from off-campus? Mark was practically vibrating with self-righteous fury. “Julian Derringer, you think you can bully people just because you have money? Why should Sierra have to go get your damn bubble tea? Don’t you have legs?” “You’ve been ordering her around like this for a month! Do you think she’s your servant? If you’re such a sick bastard, go home! Why even come to school?” One of my friends scoffed. “Who are you to Sierra, Mark? You’re acting like Julian just ordered your girlfriend around.” “Yeah, man, don’t be so possessive of someone else’s girl. Julian just finished performing; he’s exhausted. What’s the big deal about getting him a tea?” “Unless… you have a crush on Sierra, and you can’t stand seeing her be so good to Julian?” Mark’s voice rose. “She’s never publicly admitted they’re a couple!” “I just think what you’re doing is disgusting! We’re all supposed to be equals here, but you, Julian Derringer, you act so special, treating a fellow student like your personal slave…” His shouting drew a crowd. Nothing attracts college students like a bit of drama. Right on cue, Sierra returned, a single bubble tea in her hand. She seemed oblivious to the argument swirling around her, walking through the parted crowd and silently presenting the drink to me. I was still in my stage costume, slouched in a chair. “Put the straw in for me,” I said, completely ignoring Mark’s pathetic yapping. Without a word, without a change in her expression, Sierra did as she was told and handed the drink to my side. I took a sip, then sighed dramatically. “Ugh, my hands are full. And my feet are killing me in these leather shoes.” I looked at Sierra. “Be a dear and change my shoes for me, would you?” 5 The crowd gasped, their expressions a mixture of shock and thrilled excitement. Mark stared for a moment, then sputtered, “Sierra, don’t listen to him! He’s…” Before he could finish, Sierra was already moving. She sank down before me, resting on one knee, her hand closing around my ankle. A shiver went through me. The air conditioning was on high, and my feet were cold, but her hand was burning hot. Her grip was firm, leaving faint prints on my skin as she slowly eased off my leather shoe. All I could see was the top of her head, her expression hidden from view. I took another sip of my tea and glanced at Mark’s pale, horrified face. A malicious grin spread across my lips. “You know what? You’re right. I do treat her like a servant. Why don’t you ask her if she wants to go with you?” I said it casually, as if bored. “If she says yes, I’ll let her go. I promise.” “Of course she’ll say yes,” Mark declared with a bizarre confidence. He looked at her with heroic determination. “Sierra, I know you’re being forced into this. You never smile when you’re with him. You must be sick of Julian constantly harassing you.” I started to lift my foot, but before I could tap her chin, she caught my foot, holding it firmly in her grasp. My breath hitched. After a moment, I spoke. “She’s talking to you. Are you sick of me harassing you?” Sierra was tying the laces on my sneakers. Her voice was low and steady. “No.” I smiled. “Do you want to go with him?” I leaned in, my voice dropping to a whisper. “This is your only chance to walk away, you know.” Sierra paused. The System’s voice was frantic in my head. [Host, are you really letting her go?! I know her affection score is high, but…] No sane person would endure this kind of treatment. If given a chance to escape, anyone would take it. I said nothing, just watched her. She shook her head, her voice slightly hoarse. “I’m not leaving.” 6 After getting into university, my family bought me a condo near campus. It made for a perfect little love nest. The moment we got home, I stripped off Sierra’s shirt. My thumb pressed against a whip mark that hadn’t yet faded. I traced the long, thin line, feeling the breath hitch in the body beneath me as she instinctively leaned into my touch. I shoved her away. The whip and ropes were always within arm’s reach. A month was a long time. My initial fascination with her had started to wane, but the System’s arrival had rekindled my interest. Sierra closed her eyes, probably expecting another lashing. But not this time. I stepped forward, and under her surprised gaze, I cupped her face, my other hand stroking her side. “Sierra, you made me very happy today.” She stared at me, bewildered. I met her gaze, my hand sliding down to hook a finger in the waistband of her jeans, leading her toward the bedroom. It was the first time I had ever brought her into my room. Usually, she slept on the sofa or the floor. I sat on the edge of the bed and looked up at her. “Kneel.” Her eyes darkened slightly, as if she suspected this was just a new form of torture. She knelt without a word, her expression unreadable. I had a new toy. A collar. I leaned forward to fasten it around her neck. Her gaze flickered to my own throat for a second before dropping again, submitting to my touch. Once it was on, I gave it a sharp tug. Sierra tumbled forward onto me. Her bare chest heaved, her breathing ragged. Her eyes were feral. “Julian, don’t push it too far.”

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The day I flew back home, my husband, who was supposed to pick me up, sent someone else, claiming a last-minute emergency. That “someone else” blocked my path at the arrivals gate, her chin tilted in arrogant challenge. “So you’re Adrian’s so-called ‘best friend.’” I was frantic. “Crestwood Estates in Kingsbridge. I need to get there now.” The butler had called that morning. My grandfather had collapsed. I’d caught the first flight out. But she and her friends didn’t move. They formed a wall, their eyes burning with a raw, ugly hostility. “You home-wrecking, backstabbing bitch. I’m going to kill you today.” A sharp slap cracked across my face, stunning me. Then the fists and feet started flying. Thankfully, I knew enough self-defense to react, twisting and using their momentum to throw a few of them to the ground. “Are you insane? Is this how my husband told you to welcome me home?” 1 Thrown to the polished airport floor, Scarlett scrambled back up, her face contorted with rage. “You’re just the shameless friend who doesn’t know her place! How dare you call him your husband?” she spat. “Today, I’m going to teach you a lesson about boundaries with married men!” She was prepared. Her friends produced steel batons from their bags, advancing on me. I grabbed Scarlett’s arm, twisting it behind her back, my patience wearing thin. “We can’t be talking about the same person,” I ground out. “I despise infidelity. I would never, ever wreck someone’s home.” A crowd was gathering, their phones already out. The exit was becoming impassable. Panicked that I wouldn’t make it home in time, I tried to reason with her. “Ma’am, whatever your issue is, you can take it up with my lawyer. Right now, I have a family emergency. I don’t have time for this drama.” I tried to push through the gawking onlookers, but she held up a photo. It was a professional shot of me and Adrian, smiling. My first instinct was to confirm it. “Yes, that’s my husband and me.” That was the spark that lit the fuse. Scarlett exploded. “Adrian has always told me you were just his childhood friend, practically his sister! And you have the nerve to call him your husband in public?” she shrieked. “I knew it! You’ve been using the ‘best friend’ excuse to sleep with my husband behind my back, you pathetic slut!” The crowd, which had started to disperse, surged back in, their curious glances turning to judgmental stares. I felt like a criminal on display. Scarlett, reveling in her victory, swung the baton. Pinned by the crowd, I couldn’t dodge in time. The blow landed hard on my arm. A flash of white-hot pain was followed by a spreading numbness. “My grandfather is dying,” I warned, my voice low and dangerous. “I am not playing games with you. Get out of my way, or you’ll be hearing from my legal team.” I was his only grandchild. He had always doted on me, even entrusting me with the company he built from the ground up. I couldn’t be late. I just couldn’t. Scarlett’s face was a mask of righteous fury. “Let me make things crystal clear for you,” she yelled for everyone to hear. “My name is Scarlett Pierce, and I am the legally wedded wife of the man you call your husband!” “You shameless home-wrecker! Using your ‘friend’ status to fly around the world with him, taking wedding photos, meeting his family! I swear, if I don’t beat you to a pulp today, I’ll take your last name!” As she screamed, the batons rained down on my back and shoulders. I sucked in a sharp breath against the pain. I was a woman. I could understand the rage of being betrayed. But that didn’t give her the right to do this. I caught the next baton in my hand, my fingers wrapping tightly around the cold steel. I met her gaze, my eyes narrowed. “That’s enough. I got married five years ago. My marriage certificate is in my purse. My husband would never cheat on me. You’ve made a mistake.” My voice was shaking, but firm. “If you touch me again, I’m calling the police.” Scarlett just rolled her eyes, her expression curdling with contempt. She rummaged in her designer bag and triumphantly produced her own marriage certificate, a crisp, official document she waved for the crowd to see. “Adrian and I have been married for three years. He took me to the courthouse himself,” she declared. “For three years, he’s been flying overseas for ‘business.’ I saw your texts on his phone. He said you were just friends. Then I found the photos on his social media. There’s no such thing as a platonic friendship between a man and a woman. You are the other woman!” Her entourage chimed in. “She’s just been clinging to Mr. Foster, waiting for him to make it big. Now that he’s successful, she’s back to kick you out and take her place. What a schemer!” “Exactly! In the old days, they’d drown women like you for this!” My mind went blank. I snatched the red-bound certificate from her hand. The man in the photo was undeniably Adrian Foster. Before I could process it, my phone buzzed. A text from the butler. [Miss Vance, the Director is fading fast. He’s asking for you. He just wants to see you one last time.] 2 There was no more time to think. “Miss Pierce,” I said, my voice strained, “my marriage certificate is dated two years before yours. I suggest you look into whether someone impersonated my husband to scam you. My family member is dying. I’m leaving now, but my lawyer will be in touch.” I pushed my way forward, but she grabbed my wrist, her grip like a vise. “Trying to run away?” she sneered. “Afraid your little charade is over?” My patience snapped. The desperation and fear in my chest ignited into pure rage. I told her it was an emergency. Why wouldn’t she listen? Just then, a timid voice spoke up from behind me. “I… I’m an airport official. I can verify the certificate numbers for you, check which one is authentic.” As desperate as I was, refusing now would make me look guilty. I locked eyes with Scarlett. “After this, you let me go. Deal?” My hands trembled as I texted the butler, asking for an update, praying I wasn’t too late. He replied with a video. My grandfather, lying in bed, his eyes wide and unfocused, was gasping my name, a thread of life he was clinging to just for me. My vision blurred with tears. I turned to the official, my voice a choked whisper. “Are you done yet? Please, I’m in a hurry.” Even in my panic, I tried to be decent. “Scarlett, something is very wrong here. You should contact my assistant. This might be a new kind of identity fraud.” Whoever was playing this sick game with my husband’s name, I would make them pay. Adrian was the CEO of Stellar Corp, the company my grandfather had poured his life into. This had to be a setup, a corporate sabotage plot to ruin our reputation. The official examined both documents, her brow furrowed. Then her expression shifted as she looked at me. It was a look of pure disgust. She handed Scarlett’s certificate back with a polite nod. “Yours is valid, ma’am. The number is in the system.” Then she turned to me, her face a mask of scorn, and threw my certificate on the ground. “You were so confident, I almost believed you. But this? Your number doesn’t exist. It’s a fake.” She sneered. “Trying to scam a man like Mr. Foster now that he’s famous? I guess money really does attract all kinds of trash.” Her words hit me like a physical blow. “What? How is that possible?” I cried out. “Adrian and I have known each other for ten years! We’ve been married for five! How can our certificate be fake?” I bent to pick it up, to demand she check again. Scarlett’s stiletto heel slammed down on my hand, pinning it to the floor. Pain, sharp and blinding, shot up my arm. “You see?” she said, her voice dripping with triumph. “Mine is the real one. You filthy bitch, sleeping with my husband and trying to steal my identity. I’ll teach you some manners.” Her friends closed in again, their batons raised. A blow to my back sent me crumpling to the ground, the air knocked from my lungs. “Stop!” I screamed. “You have no right! This isn’t settled! I am a director on the board of Stellar Corp, and I will sue every single person who laid a hand on me today! You will all be held legally accountable!” My threat was met with a moment of silence, followed by a wave of derisive laughter. “First she’s the wife, now she’s a director? Does this woman ever stop lying?” “Stellar Corp is the biggest company in Kingsbridge! You think just any piece of trash can be on their board?” Scarlett raised an eyebrow, emboldening them. “Stellar Corp is my husband’s company, and I’ve never heard of a director named Audrey Vance. Don’t worry,” she announced to the crowd. “As the boss’s wife, I’m giving you all permission. Whoever teaches this home-wrecker the best lesson gets a job at Stellar.” The crowd went wild. “Stellar only hires Ivy League grads and overseas talent! Their starting salaries are in the millions!” “She’s just a mistress anyway. Who cares if she gets roughed up? I hate cheaters.” A hand tangled in my hair, yanking my head back. Nails dug into my skin. I screamed, bracing for the mob to trample me. Suddenly, a chorus of sharp whistles cut through the noise. A team of airport security guards pushed through the crowd, creating a barrier around me. “What is the meaning of this assembly? We have a VIP from Stellar Corp arriving today! Disperse immediately!” 3 They parted the sea of people, and two guards helped me to my feet. Scarlett stood with her arms crossed, tapping her foot impatiently. “You’re telling me to leave? Do you have any idea who I am?” The security captain stepped forward respectfully. “Ma’am, we’ve received instructions to ensure clear passage for a VIP from Stellar Corp. We need to prevent any blockages.” Scarlett scoffed, poking him in the chest with her baton. “Stellar Corp? You mean me, right? I’m Adrian Foster’s wife.” She flipped open the marriage certificate and shoved it in his face. “Open your eyes. I’m the person you’re supposed to be protecting. This airline is a subsidiary of our company, isn’t it? A dog should at least recognize its master. Be careful, or I’ll have you fired.” The captain flinched back but said nothing, his men still forming a protective circle around me. Scarlett sneered and snapped her fingers. “Fine. If you want to play hero, you can take a few hits for her.” While they were distracted, I frantically tried to call Adrian. If Scarlett’s certificate was real, it meant my entire life was a lie. The line was busy. Over and over again. Scarlett watched me, a cruel smirk on her face. “What’s the matter? Trying to call for backup? Trying to call Adrian?” She kicked my shin lightly, her eyes glittering with malice. “My husband told me he would answer my call, anytime, anywhere. Let me show you just how little you mean to him.” She pulled out her phone and dialed. It rang twice before he picked up. “Hey, babe. What’s up?” That familiar voice. My husband’s voice. And just like that, I understood. All those years I was overseas, they were together. A bitter coldness spread through my chest. I had defied my family, turned down a strategic marriage alliance, all for him. I had personally placed him in the CEO’s chair. And this is how he repaid me. “Adrian Foster,” I snarled into the phone she held out. “You have some nerve. I suggest you get your psycho girlfriend out of here right now, or you’ll regret it.” Maybe it was the venom in my voice, but he didn’t recognize me. There was a pause, then his tone turned harsh and arrogant. “Who do you think you’re talking to? I’m the CEO of Stellar Corp. I can make sure you never work in this city again. You’re threatening me?” Scarlett pouted into the phone. “See? And this bitch is trying to frame me as the other woman! Everyone knows you only have me!” “Don’t worry, babe,” he cooed. “I’m on my way. I’ll give you some backup.” I clenched my fists, a humorless smile on my lips. No time to pick me up from the airport, but one call from her and he comes running. She hung up, then tapped the baton against my cheek. “I thought you were such an important ‘friend,’” she taunted. “He didn’t even recognize your voice. Hahahaha.” She and her goons moved closer, their expressions hardening. “Alright, everyone. Teach this cheating whore a lesson she’ll never forget.” They all held batons. The security team was outnumbered and surrounded. The crowd surged forward again, and one of Scarlett’s friends even started a live stream, her phone pointed at me. #StellarCorpBossWifeBeatsDownHomewrecker #ExposingTheMistress I made one last desperate attempt, my eyes locked on hers. “I’m warning you, stop now. When Adrian sees what you’ve done to me, he won’t let you get away with it. He owes his entire career to me!” Scarlett just laughed. “Oh, still talking tough when you’re about to die? Let’s see if that mouth of yours still works after we’re done with you.” The baton came down, a precise, brutal strike to the back of my knee. My leg buckled. I collapsed, my face pale, a cold sweat breaking out across my skin.

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