Category: English

My mother set my sister up with a blind date who was rich, handsome, and highly educated. But my sister found fault with everything. She complained that he didn’t peel her shrimp at the dinner table. She complained that he didn’t understand internet slang and couldn’t keep up with her jokes. She even complained that he was showing off when he drove her home in his Lincoln. So, after she came back from yet another date with him, whining about his supposed flaws, I asked her calmly, “Do you really not like Liam Smith?” My sister tossed her long hair back with an air of superiority. “Of course not. What’s there to like? He’s just a guy with some money.” “If you don’t like him, then can you let me have him?” A flicker of something crossed her face, but she stuck her chin out defiantly. “He’s just a man. Take him if you want him.” The next day, when Liam Smith came to pick up my sister, I was the one who ran downstairs to meet him. “I’m sorry, Mr. Smith,” I said, my heart pounding. “My sister doesn’t like you. But I do.” 1 A shadow passed over Liam Smith’s face. He glanced up at the small balcony of our apartment. Just then, the curtains in the room behind the balcony were drawn shut. A look of profound disappointment washed over him. Desperate to hold his attention, I quickly pulled a folded piece of paper from my cheap handbag. “Mr. Smith, this is my resume.” “I graduated from a top-tier university, I’m 5’6″, and you can see what I look like. I look about half like my sister. The only difference is she’s better at dressing up, so she looks prettier. But don’t worry, once I have money, I’ll learn how to dress up, too. I’ll be just as beautiful as she is.” “As for work, I’ve been sending out my resume like crazy. Two major tech companies have already called me for an interview. I’m preparing for them now. I’m confident I can get a respectable job.” My voice trembled as I spoke, my hands shaking so much the paper rattled. Liam looked up at the balcony again, a long, searching look, before finally taking the paper from my hand. “Does your sister know you’re here?” I nodded emphatically. “She does. She said your personalities aren’t a good match.” “When she found out I had a crush on you, she was very encouraging. She told me to go for it.” 2 Liam’s fingers tightened on my resume. He glanced up at the balcony one last time. Then, with a sigh of resignation, he told me to get in the car. I was thrilled with how my plan was working. But not wanting to overstep, I chose the passenger seat. The car ride was silent. I was too nervous to speak. And Liam… I snuck a couple of glances at him in the rearview mirror. He was clearly still reeling from the news that my sister didn’t like him. His brow was furrowed, a veil of sadness clouding his features. I didn’t mind. I just watched the city lights streak past the window. Halfway to our destination, my mother called. The cheap, tinny ringtone of my old phone blared through the quiet car. I frantically hung up after the first ring. The noise must have startled him, because Liam finally spoke. “It’s alright. You can take it if it’s important.” I turned to look at him. “It’s not important. Right now, being on a date with you is the most important thing to me.” He didn’t say anything. But in the rearview mirror, I saw the tips of his ears turn a faint shade of pink. Liam took me to a trendy, Instagram-famous restaurant. The moment the car stopped, a valet rushed to open my door before circling around to get Liam’s. As Liam got out, I smiled. “Mr. Smith, I’ve always wanted to eat here.” “A friend from college recommended it once.” “But I never had the money to come.” With that, I pulled a small notebook from my bag. I flipped to a page in the middle, and among the densely packed handwriting, I found the line “Eat at the trendy restaurant” and checked it off with a flourish. Liam was a head taller than me and could easily see what I was doing. “‘One Hundred Things to Do with Liam Smith’?” he read aloud. “What’s this?” I grinned. “I made it last night, after I asked my sister if she liked you and she said no.” I ducked my head, feigning shyness. “I’m sorry, is this too forward? I just thought… even if we don’t end up together, at least I’ll have these memories. That way, I won’t have any regrets.” He didn’t speak, but his ears turned red again. He was listening. He was paying attention. The small victory made me giddy. As we walked upstairs, I practically bounced with excitement. When I’m happy, I can’t stop talking. I chattered about the ads in the elevator, the floor numbers, anything and everything. When we were finally seated, Liam was the perfect gentleman. He asked about my preferences before ordering for us. I just smiled at him, my admiration obvious. After the waiter left, I sighed contentedly. “Liam Smith, you’re exactly as wonderful as I imagined.” His ears turned red yet again. It was like discovering a new continent. After that, I peppered every sentence with praise. I complimented him boldly, expressed my affection without reservation. And though he was a man of few words, he always responded. I felt like I could leap out of my seat with joy. Just as our food arrived, he asked me his first real question of the night. “Why do you like me? Have we met before?” 3 His question sent a shiver through me. I didn’t want to dredge up the disgusting memories of my past. But I wasn’t about to pass up an opportunity for sympathy. If it would make Liam Smith fall in love with me, I would gladly rip open my own chest and show him my bleeding heart. I smiled calmly, about to answer. Just then, his phone rang. He frowned slightly and looked at me. “Excuse me, I need to take this.” I nodded, still smiling. He stepped away from the table. The moment he was gone, I deflated like a punctured balloon, slumping onto the table. He had been quick, but not quick enough. I had seen the caller ID. “Rina.” My sister’s name. The wait felt endless. He was on the phone for a full ten minutes. When he returned, the apology in his eyes made my heart sink. As I expected, he said, “I’m so sorry, Miss Yates, but something’s come up at the office. I have to go.” A sharp, stabbing pain pricked at my heart. But I just smiled and nodded. “Of course. Drive safe.” He grabbed his suit jacket and walked out without a second glance. I watched him go. A wave of panic washed over me. After a moment of hesitation, I chased after him. “Liam Smith,” I called out. “Can I see you again tomorrow?” He stiffened, but after a moment, he nodded. I quickly held out my phone for him to add me on social media. He hesitated for a second. But he added me. Then he walked away, his pace quickening. I went back to our table and sat there until two in the morning, when the restaurant finally closed. 4 My first encounter with Liam Smith was a cliché story of salvation. When I was eighteen, I got into a top-tier university. While my classmates and teachers were celebrating with me, my father called me out of my room as I was preparing to register. He lit a cigarette and spoke calmly. “Sierra, there’s something I need to discuss with you. I’ve talked it over with Aunt Jane, and we’re getting married in a few days.” Aunt Jane was his girlfriend after he and my mom divorced. I neither liked nor disliked her. “If you’re happy, that’s all that matters,” I said. But his next words plunged me into an abyss. “Aunt Jane is pregnant. And you know, I don’t make much money. So, she said… she’ll have the baby, but I have to stop supporting you financially. Your mother has money. You can ask her for your university fees.” My fists clenched. Tears welled in my eyes, but I forced them back, my voice a desperate plea. “My tuition isn’t that high… maybe five thousand a semester. The first year is only three thousand. Can you just help me with that? I… I can get a student loan…” But he just stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray. “Sierra, the law only requires me to support you until you’re eighteen.” Then he went back to his room and slammed the door. The sound echoed in the empty house for a long, long time. I stood there, tears streaming down my face, for I don’t know how long. The next day, I did as he said. I messaged my mother. I drafted the message like a report to a CEO, agonizing over every word before finally summoning the courage to hit send. Her reply was swift and brutal. “Sierra, I hope you understand that laws are meant to be followed, not broken. When your father and I divorced, we agreed that he would support you, and I would support your sister. Your father is incompetent, and you are eighteen now. You’re an adult. Don’t be a useless parasite like him, coming to me for money. My money is for your sister. It has nothing to do with you.” I hid in my room and cried for hours. It was just like when they divorced. They had fought over who got my sister, Rina. They had even come to blows at the courthouse. Neither of them wanted me. In the end, my mother had to give up her rights to the house we lived in just to get custody of Rina. I never understood why I was so unwanted. Why, when we both came from the same womb, did my sister get all their love, while I was an inconvenience no one was willing to take? My tears soaked my pillow. The next day, just as they wanted, I packed my bags and went to the city where my university was, looking for work. To save money, I took the slowest train. The journey took two days and two nights. I cried the entire time, mourning the cruelty of my parents, my uncertain future. As I sobbed, a man struck up a conversation with me. He was kind. He gave me a piece of his bread, some of his cured meat. He told me he had a daughter my age, who had also gotten into a good university. He was on his way to a factory job to earn her tuition. His face was so full of paternal love that I, so starved for it myself, believed him. When he told me he could get me a job at the factory, earning five thousand a month, I trusted him completely. But that night, he led me down a dark, deserted alley. He slapped me dozens of time, ran his hands all over my body, molesting me in the most degrading ways. Then he took my luggage, all my money, and left. The moon was bright that night, so bright it seared my eyes. I went to the police. I had lost not only my money but also all my documents, including my university acceptance letter. That night, I wanted to die. A policewoman looked at my desolate eyes. “You should be thankful, kid. It’s a safe city now, isn’t it?” My cheek throbbed where he had slapped me. I borrowed the station’s phone and called my father. He listened to my story and said calmly, “Isn’t your mother in that city? Go find her.” Then he hung up. My hand trembled as I held the receiver. But the tears threatening to spill over stayed put. I turned to the policewoman. “Can I borrow a hundred dollars? I need to go find my mother.” She looked at my unfocused eyes. Her colleague tried to signal her to say no, but she pulled a hundred-dollar bill from her pocket and handed it to me. I took a bus to my mother’s villa. I didn’t cry. My head was buzzing. I walked the rest of the way from the bus stop. As I approached the house, I heard the sound of music. A banner hung over the gate: “Congratulations to our little princess, Rina, on getting into university.” Through the iron bars, I saw my sister standing in front of a giant cake. She wore a beautiful crown and a princess dress. The living room was filled with beautifully dressed young men and women. They were probably her classmates, or my mother’s business partners. The tears I had been holding back all night finally broke free. The bitter taste mixed with the pain in my mouth. It was a raw, agonizing ache that made me tremble. I clung to the iron gate, the peeling paint digging into my flesh. I was a pathetic, peeping Tom, a miserable clown watching a life that could have been mine. As my tears threatened to run dry, a luxury car pulled up beside me. A handsome, impeccably dressed gentleman got out. Fueled by a desperate, vengeful impulse, I walked up to him, tears streaming down my face. “Hello, I’m so sorry to bother you, but… can I borrow five thousand dollars? No, ten thousand. I’ll use my face as collateral.” “You can take a picture of me and show it to the owner of this house. Tell her to pay you back. She will.” The man studied my face. He was silent. I knew it was a lost cause. My shoulders shook with choked sobs. “I’m sorry, I… I shouldn’t have bothered you,” I stammered, turning to leave. But just as I turned, he called out to me. “Give me your phone. I’ll transfer it to you.” I froze, then collapsed to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably, the raw, guttural cries of a broken heart. Through my tears, I looked up at him. “I… I don’t have a phone. It was stolen.” He thought for a moment, then pulled out his own phone and made a call. “Wait here. I’ll have someone bring you the cash.” I stared at him. Then he walked into the villa, disappearing into the crowd that was my mother’s and my sister’s world. Ten minutes later, a man brought me ten thousand dollars. Clutching the money, I felt a new emotion bloom in the desolate landscape of my heart. It wasn’t just sadness anymore. It was jealousy. Jealousy of my sister. And for the first time, it was hatred. Hatred for my mother. But it was also the first time I felt a flicker of desire for my own barren, disgusting life. I wanted that man.

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I was on my way to meet a client when I tapped open the GPS. A syrupy, flirtatious female voice purred from the speakers. “Hehe, your darling Robin is ready to start our little journey, just the two of us. It’s like we’re running away together~” I slammed on the brakes, my chest hitting the steering wheel. The voice chirped on. “Up ahead is a convenience store with Robin’s favorite cookies. Please, please buy some for me~” I froze. Listening to that voice, I dialed my husband’s number. “Patrick,” I asked, “have you used the Porsche recently?” On the other end, his tone was as gentle as ever. “My car broke down a few days ago, so I took it for a spin. Why? What’s up, honey?” “Nothing,” I said with a tight smile, then hung up and drove straight to his office. 1 I rarely visited Patrick’s company. I’ve always believed that trust is the cornerstone of a marriage. I didn’t want to suspect him, but that GPS voice echoed relentlessly in my mind. I was sitting in his office, having just asked HR to bring me the files of every new female employee, when Patrick walked in. “Honey,” he said, a playful grin spreading across his face as he sat down opposite me. “Keeping tabs on me, are we?” He leaned forward. “Find anything interesting?” Tapping his fingers on the desk in a lazy rhythm, he added, “If you don’t, you’ll have to make it up to me. I’m thinking you can take me skydiving.” Looking at his open, disarming smile, I felt a pang of guilt. Maybe I was being paranoid, too small-minded. The personnel files revealed nothing. There wasn’t even a new hire with the last name associated with “Robin.” Had I really overreacted? I pushed the files aside and met his teasing gaze, sighing. “It was just a routine check.” I slid the stack of folders toward him. “If it makes you uncomfortable, I won’t do it again.” Patrick’s expression immediately softened into a placating smile. “Uncomfortable? Honey, the fact that you care this much about me… I couldn’t be happier.” Patrick was always like that. A titan in the boardroom, but with me, he was like a boy. Even when I was in the wrong, he’d be the first to apologize, determined to keep me perpetually cherished and adored. I shouldn’t have doubted him. I followed him home. As he carried groceries into the kitchen, I headed to the study to finish some work. Just then, his phone, left on the desk, buzzed to life. I was about to call out to him when the caller ID caught my eye. My breath hitched. I picked up the phone and answered. That same, sickeningly familiar voice filled the air. “Jules, oh, Jules! My numbers for the second half of the year are all riding on that big deal of yours! The boss praised me today, I owe you a huge thank you for that.” My heart clenched. “I heard the tigress was on the prowl today,” she continued with a giggle. “So, give me the all-clear, Jules. What’s the situation on your end?” The contact name read “Robin – Silver Creek.” She was calling my husband Jules. Not even the old guard from when the company started dared to be so familiar; they all called him Mr. Sterling. No one, no matter how close, spoke to him like that. But now, this woman… She paused, a note of hesitation in her voice. “Jules? Are you there? Why aren’t you answering? Is the connection bad?” The line suddenly went dead. I stared, pale-faced, at Patrick, who was still humming to himself in the kitchen. A memory surfaced—his recent, sudden interest in wine tasting. A new partnership that had appeared on the company’s roster, a winery that made no strategic sense. I had asked him about it. Why the sudden change in direction? “It doesn’t matter the industry,” he’d told me, his eyes soft as he looked at me. “If there’s a pie, I want a slice. I’m going to make my wife the happiest woman in the world, give her the best life imaginable.” The memory, once so sweet, now felt like a vicious slap, shattering the beautiful illusion of our marriage and all my hopes for it. Patrick. How far had he and this woman gone? 2 Huddled in the study, Robin’s voice replayed in my head. I remembered going with Patrick to a winery event once, but I couldn’t recall meeting anyone named Robin. I opened a chat with my best friend, Maya. [Can you run a check on Silver Creek Vintners? And Patrick.] My hands trembled as I typed, a cold dread creeping up my spine. [I need everything. All of Patrick’s recent transactions and his full itinerary.] The tears welled up, but I stubbornly blinked them back, forcing myself to be rational. [I think Patrick is having an affair.] The moment I hit send, Patrick’s voice came from behind me. “Honey.” He walked over, his face etched with apology. “Something’s come up at work, a project emergency,” he said, his tone strained. “I know I promised I’d be with you tonight, but they can’t handle it, and I really have to go.” He stroked my hair. “I’ll be back as soon as I’m done.” He was holding his phone, the screen still lit up, a chat window open. I grabbed his hand, my voice tight. “Can’t you stay?” Normally, he would have heard the tremor in my voice. He would have seen the unsent message on my screen, the raw vulnerability in my eyes. But not tonight. His focus was split between the door and the text messages he was still typing. He just answered with strained patience. “I’ll be back soon. Don’t make this difficult.” His voice was tinged with an urgency I’d never heard before. “Honey, you’re always so understanding. Please, don’t put me in a tough spot.” It was as if all the air had been sucked out of me. I sat there, a deflated balloon, watching as he rushed out without even a proper goodbye. The tears finally fell, silent streams carving paths down my cheeks. It was true. There was no such thing as a faithful cat in a world full of cream. My phone rang. It was Maya. “Okay, I’ve got something,” she said, her voice grim. “Patrick personally financed and pushed a new project with Silver Creek. The whole thing stinks.” A file appeared in my chat. “Everyone at Silver Creek is talking about it. How Patrick’s throwing money around to promote some girl. No one there dares to even look at her sideways.” Maya’s voice turned to ice. “They’re having a ‘celebration dinner’ tonight. At the Hawthorne Hotel.” “Patrick didn’t go, did he?” The last sliver of hope inside me shattered. I looked at the dinner Patrick had prepared—the perfectly peeled shrimp, my favorite sweet soup, the single rose laid beside my plate. And then I remembered his words from earlier that morning. “Honey! Did you forget? Today’s our anniversary.” Our wedding anniversary. And he still chose someone else. He still left me here alone, even after I begged him, told him I didn’t want him to go. He walked away, toward the person who was clearly occupying all of his thoughts. “I’m going to the Hawthorne,” I told Maya. “Even if this is the end of my marriage, I deserve to know who I lost to.” I had imagined it a thousand times—the kind of woman I might lose him to. Someone sophisticated and elegant, or maybe someone young, vibrant, and full of sunshine. I never, ever imagined this. When I saw her, sitting next to Patrick, clinging to his arm and cooing his name, she was shockingly plain. The kind of face you’d never remember seeing in a crowd. She had no grace, her clothes were ordinary, and her hair was tied back messily. She was bare-faced, beaming up at him. “Jules,” she whined, “they’re trying to make me drink.” She pouted, pointing at the other executives at the table. “I told them my knight in shining armor would protect me, but they didn’t believe me. They said you had to come and deal with them yourself.” Inside the private room, the laughter was slick with insincere compliments. “You’ve gotta hand it to Robin, she knows how to pick ’em. When she finally decides on a man, she lands a whale.” 3 “And a romantic one at that!” a portly man slurred, raising his glass. “Everyone in the industry knows Patrick Sterling would choose the girl over the glory, hahaha.” “Damn right,” another chimed in. “So, Robin, aren’t you going to join us in a toast to your hero?” My feet were rooted to the spot, my hand frozen on the door. Patrick was allergic to alcohol. He never drank. At every social function, I was the one on the front lines, his shield. Now, I watched as Robin giggled. “Oh, I don’t drink. My Jules wouldn’t want me to. Right, Jules?” She snuggled against his arm, and to my horror, Patrick actually picked up his glass, his gaze cool as he met the other man’s eyes. “Robin isn’t drinking,” he said flatly. “If you need a toast, Mr. Chen, you can have one with me.” He downed the glass in one go. The room erupted in cheers. Robin, her cheeks flushed, praised him for being her hero. Patrick just smiled that indulgent smile and pinched her cheek. It felt as if a dull, rusty blade was being dragged across my skin, carving one hideous, terrifying gash after another. I could feel the blood welling up from those wounds, could feel myself being torn to shreds, and yet, a small, insane part of me was still whispering, maybe there’s a misunderstanding. Maya, seeing me sway, grabbed my arm, ready to storm in. “That son of a bitch!” she hissed. “I’m going to kill him!” I held her back. I pulled out my phone and dialed Patrick’s number. I was clinging to one last, desperate hope. I wanted to hear it from him. I wanted him to tell me there was some other explanation. I watched him pick up his phone from the table, his expression shifting as he glanced at Robin. Robin didn’t hesitate. She reached over and pressed the red decline button. Then she wrapped her arms around his again. “You promised,” she whispered, her lower lip trembling just so. “You said you’d have my back.” She looked at him, her gaze stubborn and demanding. I stubbornly redialed, again and again. The screen on the table lit up, went dark, lit up again, until finally, Patrick made his choice. “Right,” he sighed, a note of resignation in his voice. “I promised you.” He placed his phone face down, severing my last connection. Robin’s triumphant smile was the final straw that broke me. I nearly collapsed, but a sliver of cold, hard reason cut through the agony. “The cameras,” I rasped, my voice shaking as I pointed to a security camera in the corner of the hallway. “Get the footage. I want the evidence.” Looking from the camera to Patrick’s face, which was already paling from the alcohol, I told Maya, “He made his choice. Now I’ll make sure he lives to regret it.” Back in Maya’s car, I scrolled through the files she had pulled. There were photos of Patrick and Robin on trips, hiking and laughing. Robin’s Instagram was a meticulously crafted web, weaving a love story for her and Patrick, a story in which I had no part. I saw a video from last month, while I was away on a business trip. Robin was sitting in my Porsche, recording herself. “Hey fam!” she chirped at the camera. “So hubby’s car broke down, so he bought this new one. It’s a little… feminine for him, so I’m planning a little surprise!” She recorded the custom GPS greeting and then put a finger to her lips, winking at the lens. “What do you think? Will my hubby like his surprise? And will he buy his favorite girl some cookies?” Swallowing the bile rising in my throat, I kept scrolling. I found a post from the day I was at the clinic for an IVF consultation. Robin had been at the same OB/GYN clinic. In her picture, she was holding up a lab report, a bashful look on her face. The caption read: “Your girl is a month and a half late! What do you guys think? Is it just a wacky cycle, or…” She added a winking emoji. “Is your girl about to become a mommy?!” “That conniving little bitch!” Maya slammed her hand on the steering wheel. But I was strangely calm, the initial storm of pain and rage having passed, leaving behind a chilling clarity. “Patrick has a low sperm count,” I told her, my voice flat.

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By day, I’m the second-ranked student in my year. By night, I’m a thirst-trap streamer. My top donator is the cold, untouchable genius from the dorm next door. Pretending I don’t know, I subtly bait him into showering me with gifts, vowing to win back every cent of the scholarship he snatched from me. But I never expected him to walk in on me during a live stream. There I was, in a backless sweater, cornered in an elevator by Ethan Shroyer. “Don’t worry,” I stammered, “I’ll never tell anyone you’re… this kind of pervert!” Ethan just chuckled, leaning in to breathe a whisper against my ear. “Twenty grand a month. Private video calls on WhatsApp. You dance only for me.” 1 “Thanks for all the love, my beautiful people. Hit that follow button so you don’t get lost.” Dressed in a new black lace shirt, I moved to the rhythm in front of my phone camera. In the comments, a pack of ravenous female fans were howling. That’s right. I’m a thirst-trap streamer. When I started, I was all passion, genuinely trying to be a serious dancer. The result? A handful of viewers, if I was lucky. One of my loyal followers kindly offered some advice: 【Dude, you don’t show your face, which is fine, but you’ve gotta at least show off those abs, right? What else is gonna pull people in?】 【If you wanna make it on the internet, you gotta be willing to go all out. No risk, no reward, you know?】 I took the advice. The long sleeves came off, replaced by a tight black tank top. That night, over two thousand people flooded my stream, showering me with gifts. In this day and age, a little bit of skin is what sells. To avoid being recognized by anyone I knew, I always wore a mask during my streams. I glanced down to switch songs, and when I looked back up, my screen was frozen, stuck in a dizzying loop of the “Carnival” gift animation. Beneath my mask, my face was stretched in a grin so wide it hurt. “Thank you! Thank you so much, ‘S’… my lady—wait, my good man!” The user ‘S’, who had just dropped ten Carnivals in a row, had their gender listed as male. Uh oh. A little bit of edge attracts the girls. Too much, and you attract the guys. Whatever. As long as they’re spending money, they’re my patrons. Time to charm my audience. “What would you like to see, S?” I asked twice, but the mysterious benefactor, nicknamed ‘S’, remained silent. So cold? I couldn’t leave the rest of my viewers hanging, so I got back to dancing. After a while, a line of text finally crawled across the screen from S: 【Show me your abs.】 2 By the end of the stream, S had donated a total of two grand. He was officially my number one fan. After logging off, I clicked on S’s profile to do some digging. His avatar was a generic photo of the sky. Age: 20. Location: Unknown. How could someone so young be so loaded? His profile was completely blank, not a single post. Looked like a brand-new account. Just as I was wondering how to build a connection with this guy, a private message from S popped up. 【Hey, streamer. Can I get your WhatsApp?】 Wow. Straight to the point. My internal alarms started blaring. Out in the world, a guy’s got to know how to protect himself, especially in my line of work. People can get the wrong idea. But maintaining a relationship with my top donator was crucial. Otherwise, who’d be foolish enough to keep throwing money at me? 【Of course.】 To protect my privacy, I used a burner account specifically for my fans. Clearly, he had no such concerns, adding me from what was obviously his personal number. I typed his username into the search bar. The moment his profile popped up, my eyes nearly fell out of their sockets. You have got to be kidding me. This ‘S’ was someone I knew. He lived in the dorm right next to mine. 3 Ethan Shroyer, the math department’s resident saint, the ice-cold academic prodigy, was secretly a pervert who watched male thirst-trap streamers! Unbelievable! To think he could maintain that holier-than-thou, untouchable facade every day, making all the girls in our department swoon over him. I’d never liked the guy. He was always number one. No matter how hard I studied, I was always stuck in second place. I was like the bitter rival in a novel, forced to watch year after year as the Chancellor’s Scholarship went straight into his pocket. And this bastard was using that money to tip thirst-trap streamers! The rage! If I wasn’t afraid of exposing myself, I would’ve screenshotted his donation history and blasted it in the department group chat, exposing his disgusting true colors. But then it hit me—the money was only taking a short detour through his wallet before landing right back in mine. My mood brightened considerably. The guy clearly had money to burn. I had to seize this opportunity and squeeze every last penny out of him. After he accepted my friend request, I put on my most sycophantic persona, sending a couple of cute, welcoming emojis. Ethan didn’t reply immediately. Five minutes later, I heard the door to the next dorm slam shut with a loud thud. Someone was back. Right on cue, a message from Ethan came through: 【Sorry, was just walking. Didn’t see your message.】 I scoffed. More like he was too paranoid to be seen texting his favorite streamer in public. I typed furiously: 【I’d wait forever for you, handsome.】 Six months in the business had not only perfected my dance moves but also armed me with a whole arsenal of sweet nothings. 【Are you always this enthusiastic with your viewers?】 【Of course not. It’s only because you’re so handsome. I saw your pictures on your profile.】 【You know which one is me?】 I froze for a second, then quickly opened Ethan’s profile. He only had one picture posted: a group photo of the university basketball team after a game. Awkward. 【Of course I do. You’d be the hottest one there.】 God, I’m quick on my feet. I immediately changed the subject: 【Are you going to come watch me dance tomorrow? If not, I’ll just wait for you.】 【You stream every day?】 【I used to just do Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays at seven, but if you want to watch, I can be online every night for you.】 The subtext was clear: as long as you pay, I’ll dance whenever you want. But I knew he wouldn’t be free tomorrow night. We both had a class on Tuesday evenings. 【I have something tomorrow. The day after.】 【Okay! See you then.】 4 My three roommates were all out of the dorm from seven to nine on Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays for club activities or tutoring gigs. This gave me the perfect, private space to stream. To keep the music from bothering the other dorms, I’d even installed soundproofing strips around the door and the balcony entrance. Ethan became a fixture in my stream for the next couple of weeks, dropping hundreds in gifts every night. After each stream, we’d chat on WhatsApp. Occasionally, I’d send him a little bonus—a picture of my abs, for instance. I also built up a tragic backstory for myself: a sick grandma, a younger sister, divorced parents, and crippling tuition fees. It worked like a charm. Soon, Ethan wasn’t just donating during streams; he was sending me money directly through WhatsApp. All I had to do was keep playing the adoring fan, changing my outfits and props based on his requests. 【Can you show me what you look like?】 I replied with my well-rehearsed rejection: 【I’m not very good-looking. If I showed my face, you might not like me anymore. It’s better to keep a little mystery, don’t you think?】 During the day, whenever I saw Ethan in class, I couldn’t help but look away, terrified he’d see right through me. He always wore crisp white shirts, his handsome, sharp features giving off a cool, distant aura that made him seem unapproachable. The only time he showed any sign of being human was the slight furrow of his brow when he was deep in thought, solving a problem. The thought that this guy was secretly drooling over my streams was enough to make me laugh out loud. “Leo, what are you grinning at? You’ve already turned the page,” my roommate, Alex, poked me in the ribs. I jumped, nearly shooting out of my seat. “Ugh… I told you not to touch my sides, they’re ticklish!” Our little commotion must have been loud, because a few people in the rows ahead turned to look at us. Even Ethan glanced over from his seat. Mortified, I ducked my head and viciously pinched Alex’s thigh. Alex winced, hissing through his teeth, “My bad, my bad, I forgot.” That evening, when I got back to the dorm, it was already 6:50 PM, and my roommates were still there. I tested the waters. “You guys not going to your club meetings tonight?” “Nope. They’re using all the activity rooms for the anniversary gala rehearsal. All club activities are canceled.” Well, crap. That meant I had to find a new place to stream. I quickly updated my stream profile, announcing a thirty-minute delay. Then I sent a private message to Ethan: 【Hey handsome, something came up tonight, so I’m going to be a little late. (Love ya~.jpg)】 Ethan replied instantly: 【What’s wrong?】 【I have family over, so I can’t stream from home. I’ll have to get a hotel room.】 Ethan didn’t say anything else. He just sent a direct transfer for a thousand dollars. He was covering my expenses. So decisive. So generous. If this keeps up, I’m afraid I’ll really fall for him… for his money. 5 I was walking out of the dorm, head down, typing a reply: 【You’re the best.】 The moment I hit send, I collided head-on with someone. I looked up, and my eyes met Ethan’s. My heart hammered against my ribs. I quickly locked my phone. “Sorry, wasn’t watching where I was going.” Ethan let go of my shoulders. “It’s fine,” he said, his voice a calm, low murmur. His gaze fell to the large black duffel bag in my hand. I broke into a cold sweat. Inside was the low-cut tank top he’d specifically requested to see. “Going off campus?” My throat felt tight. “Uh… yeah.” Normally, Ethan and I barely spoke. Offering too much of an explanation would just be weird. As expected, he didn’t press further and simply walked into his dorm. To save time, I found a cheap motel about five hundred yards from campus. By the time I had all my gear set up, it was already past 7:30. I rushed to start the stream, and viewers quickly began to pour in. When Ethan entered the room, his “Top Donator” animation nearly blinded me. “Welcome, S! Good evening, everyone. Sorry for the change of scenery tonight, had people over at my place, so I had to come out here.” 【Whoa, that top is cut down to his navel!】 【Is this a special fan service night? Damn, I’m on my period, I can’t watch this today.】 【His pecs look so soft, I wanna squeeze them.】 … My phone buzzed with a stream of WhatsApp notifications. It was Ethan. I had to pause the stream to check them. 【Change your shirt.】 Such a commanding tone. Did he think he owned me? Luckily, I’d brought a spare outfit. “Hold on, guys, the streamer just got a wardrobe warning. I need to change.” Three minutes later, I was back on camera. From the front, it looked like a plain, white sleeveless sweater. But when I turned around, the entire back was open, completely bare. 【Holy hell, that’s so hot! I’m getting a nosebleed.】 【I’m crawling through the internet to get to you right now!】 【I’m close! It’s only a ten-minute cab ride!】 I paused. A ten-minute cab ride? What did that mean? A wave of panic washed over me. I quickly checked my settings and realized, in my haste to go live, I’d forgotten to turn off my location sharing. “Sorry everyone, having some network issues. Let me just reset a few things.” I immediately shut down the stream. As I fumbled with the settings, another message from Ethan came through. 【I’m outside your hotel.】 【Want to meet?】 6 Meet? Hell no! This two-faced psycho actually tracked me down using my location. My entire body clenched. I crept over to the window and peeked through a crack in the curtains. Down below, under a streetlight, a figure in a white shirt stood silently. It was unmistakably Ethan. 【How did you know where I was?】 【You said you were streaming from a hotel. This is the only one nearby.】 【But I’m still streaming. And this is so sudden, I’m not mentally prepared to meet anyone.】 【Then I’ll wait downstairs until you’re done.】 If we actually met, how could I ever show my face at school again? I had to find a way to make him leave. At this critical moment, I knew I might have to give up Ethan, my personal ATM. I gritted my teeth and deployed my ultimate weapon: 【I’m sorry, but my boyfriend is on his way over. Tonight’s not a good night to meet.】 Ethan went silent. After a long pause, he sent a voice message. “You have a boyfriend?” His voice, even distorted by the phone’s speaker, was a low, magnetic rumble that seemed to kiss my eardrum. The thought of losing all that future income was excruciating. It hurt more than realizing I’d misread the last question on my calculus final. 【Yes. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before.】 Another voice message arrived. His tone was unreadable. “So he knows you chat with me every night? That you send me… private photos?”

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After I was blacklisted by the entire industry, my agent took me to meet a titan. I timidly lifted my eyes to look at her, my voice barely a whisper. “Vivian…” A slow smile curved her lips as she pulled me into her arms. “Here,” she murmured, her voice a low hum against my ear. “Say my name again.” My face flushed crimson. Weren’t we moving a little too fast? 1 I was a no-name actress, barely clinging to the eighteenth rung of the Hollywood ladder. Three years in, and I was still a nobody. A few weeks ago, I’d managed to piss off Chloe, the girlfriend of Landon Hayes, Hollywood’s own crown prince. The result? I was canceled, my career put on ice indefinitely. The funny thing is, I didn’t cross her over a role or a rivalry. I was just gossiping with another actress on set about who in the industry had gotten work done. We never even mentioned Chloe’s name, but she was convinced I was throwing shade at her. The other actress came from a family with connections, so she got off with a simple apology. But me? I had no one in my corner. Landon Hayes had me blacklisted overnight. My agent, Sarah, stared at me for a long time, her expression grim. “Scarlett,” she said, her voice low, “you have one last shot at this. Do you want a comeback?” I had a feeling this “last shot” wasn’t going to be an easy one. But for the dream of acting… I gritted my teeth and nodded. “Yes.” That settled it. Sarah led me to an exclusive, low-key lounge, the kind of place with no sign and an unlisted address. The room was filled with seven or eight people, all strangers to me, but the sheer power radiating from them nearly made my knees buckle. Sitting in the center of it all was the ultimate titan of the industry—Vivian Croft. To put it simply, in this town, what she said, went. Even Landon Hayes’s father, a studio head in his own right, had to treat her with the utmost respect. On the way over, Sarah had prepped me. My mission was simple: get on Vivian Croft’s good side and claw my way back into the industry. “Go on, introduce yourself,” Sarah said, giving me a gentle push forward. She smiled at the woman in the center. “Vivian, this is Scarlett O’Malley. The girl I told you about.” Vivian exhaled a thin stream of smoke, her eyes glinting with amusement. I summoned every ounce of courage I had, lifted my gaze, and whispered, “Vivian…” She stubbed out the cigarillo. A custom, diamond-banded piece that probably cost more than my rent for a year, extinguished after a single puff. A slow smile curved her lips as she reached out and pulled me into her arms. “Here,” she murmured, her voice a low hum against my ear. “Say my name again.” I stumbled into her embrace, my face instantly on fire. My breath hitched, my heart hammering against my ribs. We were both women, but this felt…intensely intimate. Before I could process it, Sarah was already singing my praises. “Vivian, she’s just a bit shy. But her acting? It’s the real deal.” She shot me an encouraging look. I caught her meaning, my voice coming out impossibly soft. “Vivian… I want to keep acting. I won’t let you down.” It was only then that I got a clear look at her face. She had classic, sharp features—high cheekbones, a strong jaw, and narrow, almond-shaped eyes that held a captivating allure. Her entire presence was a blade, beautiful and dangerously sharp. An alpha. For no reason at all, my heart felt like it was going to burst out of my chest. She was only six years older than me, and we were both women. Why was I so terrified? Vivian raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips. “Alright. But what can you give me?” I froze, my mind blank. I stammered, “I… I’ll work hard. I’ll act. Most of the money I make… you can have it.” At that, Vivian let out a genuine laugh. “Sweetheart, what would I do with your money?” Sarah wiped a bead of sweat from her brow, frantically trying to signal something to me with her eyes. I didn’t understand. Besides my work, what else did I have to offer? A kind-looking woman sitting nearby chimed in, smiling. “Honey, does Vivian look like she needs money?” Then what was I supposed to give her? In a panic, I did the only thing I could think of. I tightened my grip on the lapel of her blazer, shifted in her lap, and whispered, “Whatever you want. I just want to act again.” My words seemed to please her. The playful glint in her eyes softened into something deeper, more inscrutable. “Good,” she said, her voice a low purr. “You said it, not me.” She glanced at Sarah, her tone lazy but firm. “From now on, anything Scarlett O’Malley wants, people will deliver it to her on a silver platter.” Sarah was ecstatic. “What are you waiting for? Thank Vivian!” A genuine smile finally broke through my anxiety. I nodded eagerly. “Thank you, Vivian!” Vivian’s smile was knowing as she pinched my cheek. “You’re welcome.” After all, everything has a price. 2 After that day, my career trajectory shifted seismically. The supporting roles I used to beg for were now beneath my notice. Every script that landed on my table was for the female lead. The resources, the opportunities—they were being thrown at me. I didn’t want to waste Vivian’s efforts, so I poured everything I had into this second chance. I practiced, I filmed, I worked myself to the bone. My relationship with Vivian grew closer, too. But something about it felt… strange. We weren’t like sisters, nor were we just a boss and her subordinate. Sometimes, when I looked at her, my heart would start to race. When she was happy, I was happy. But when I saw her smiling at someone else, a strange, sour feeling would twist in my gut. Why is she smiling at them like that? We’re supposed to be the closest. Yes. I was becoming possessive of Vivian Croft. 3 Three months later, my first feature film as the lead officially wrapped. At the wrap party, I saw Chloe again. As one of the investors, she sauntered over to me, her chin held high. “You really think latching onto Vivian Croft makes you untouchable?” she hissed, her voice low enough for only me to hear. “Let me tell you something. The only reason she’s backing you is because you look a little like her ex-girlfriend. She’s into women, you know.” My breath caught in my throat. “Vivian is helping me because she’s a good person,” I retorted. “Don’t you dare talk about her like that. We’re friends.” Chloe scoffed. “Stop pretending. You’re in love with her. I can see it written all over your face.” “I—I’m not…” The denial felt hollow even to my own ears. One night, I’d had a high fever. In my delirious state, I felt someone kissing me. Who else could have gotten into Vivian’s villa? I knew it was her, but I didn’t push her away. Afterwards, I told myself it was just a fever dream. Could Chloe be right? Was I… in love with Vivian? “I’ll give you a little tip,” Chloe said, her voice dripping with malicious glee. “Vivian flew to the States to win her ex back. Once she does, you, the little replacement, will be thrown out like trash.” This time, I didn’t argue. Because Vivian had gone to the States. It was sudden. A late-night phone call had woken her, and she’d left in a hurry. And she never, ever mentioned that kiss. Was it possible? Was all of Vivian’s kindness, her support, just because I was a stand-in for someone else? The thought was a physical pain, a sharp, cold ache spreading through my chest. Chloe must have seen the doubt in my eyes. “If you don’t believe me,” she purred, “go to City Central Hospital right now. Vivian’s ex has health issues. She’d have to get a check-up as soon as she’s back in the country.” I didn’t say another word. I left the party and got in a cab. On the way to the hospital, a question finally surfaced through my panic: How did Chloe know all this? 4 I arrived at the hospital, my legs feeling stiff and heavy. Vivian’s phone location showed she was back in the city, but she hadn’t contacted me. Normally, she’d already be home, waiting for me. The video call I’d just tried went straight to voicemail. With a heart full of dread, I walked inside. Following Chloe’s directions, I found the VIP suite. Through the small window in the door, I saw Vivian. She was alone, sitting up in the hospital bed, working on her laptop. There was no one else there. Was she sick? Is that why she didn’t tell me? A wave of guilt washed over me for believing Chloe. But then, the bathroom door opened, and a beautiful young woman walked out. She was smiling sweetly as she wrapped her arms around Vivian from behind. I saw her face clearly then. She looked… she looked seven or eight parts like me. “Vivian,” she murmured, her voice soft. “I’m never leaving again.” My knees went weak. A bone-deep chill spread through me. Chloe was telling the truth. I was just a substitute. The moment she hugged Vivian, a ferocious, ugly jealousy clawed at me. I wanted to tear her face apart. This was so much more than simple possessiveness over a friend. Yes. I was in love with Vivian. The realization shattered my composure. I turned and fled, escaping the hospital as if my life depended on it. 5 I went back to the home I shared with Vivian and started packing. But as I pulled things from drawers and closets, I realized almost everything I owned had been bought for me by her. I’d arrived at this sprawling villa with a single small suitcase. My few belongings couldn’t even begin to fill the 800-square-foot master suite. I remember Vivian laughing at the sight. “A young woman should be cherished, properly cared for.” The next day, my closets and vanity were overflowing with designer clothes and luxury cosmetics. But now, thinking back, who was she really seeing when she looked at me? The person she wanted to cherish… it wasn’t me, was it? I gave a bitter laugh. I didn’t take a single thing she had given me. … It was 2 a.m. when Vivian finally got home. By then, I was on a high-speed train to a different city. I opened my phone and pulled up the live feed from the villa’s security cameras. Vivian stumbled in, clearly drunk, leaning heavily on the girl from the hospital. The girl entered the security code with a practiced ease, as if she’d done it a hundred times before. Inside, she led Vivian to the sofa and got her a glass of water. Everything about their interaction screamed intimacy. Vivian rubbed her temples, her voice hoarse. “Why isn’t Scarlett out here?” Whenever Vivian came home late, I would wait for her on the sofa. Sometimes I’d fall asleep, and she’d carry me to her bed, and we’d sleep in each other’s arms. But why was she asking for me now? Her ex was back, wasn’t she? What a player, I thought bitterly. On the screen, she reached out and took the girl’s hand. Her voice was tender. “Sweetheart, go get her for me.” My heart skipped a beat. Sweetheart? Were they back together? The person she called “sweetheart” glanced towards my wing of the house and pouted. “It’s so late, she’s definitely asleep. Why are you always thinking about Scarlett O’Malley? Vivian, have you fallen for someone else? I just got back and you’re not even paying attention to me.” To me, it looked like a girlfriend teasing her partner, a playful, jealous spat. My fingers trembled. I couldn’t watch anymore. I slammed the app shut. 6 I drifted in and out of a restless sleep, my phone buzzing incessantly. 99+ missed calls. I knew it was Vivian. She must have realized I was gone. A fresh wave of self-pity washed over me. You’re calling her ‘sweetheart,’ so why are you looking for me? Steeling myself, I finally answered her call. She sounded frantic. “Scarlett O’Malley, where are you? You’re not home, you’re not answering my calls, do you have any idea how worried I was? If your agent hadn’t told me you were heading to B-City, I would have called the police.” I listened in silence until she was done. “I’m sorry,” I said, my voice flat. “I just left for a shoot.” I had decided last night. If Vivian didn’t love me, then I would stop loving her. I would bury myself in work to get through the heartbreak. There was a pause on the other end. “Scarlett,” she said, her tone softer now, “I didn’t mean to yell. But next time you leave, can you please just tell me where you’re going? I hate not being able to find you.” Find me for what? Isn’t your precious ex back? Now that she’s here, you can’t even let your substitute go? I didn’t dare say any of it out loud. I couldn’t afford to burn that bridge completely. “I know,” I said meekly. Vivian started to say something else, but I cut her off, blaming a bad signal, and hung up. I made a silent vow: I was done with her. A hand extended a few tissues toward me. I looked up to see a cool-looking woman in a jumpsuit and sunglasses. “Don’t cry,” she said simply. I hadn’t even realized tears were streaming down my face. I took the tissues with a mumbled, “Thanks.” The cool girl smirked. “No problem.”

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After the class reunion, my best friend, Monica, naturally expected me to be the driver and take everyone home. I agreed. But on the way, my car was rear-ended by a limited-edition Rolls-Royce. The owner of the luxury car claimed to be a wealthy tycoon. He said dealing with insurance was a hassle, that our crash was fate, and with a grand gesture, he simply gave me the car. Later, watching me drive around in a million-dollar car every day, Monica went insane with jealousy. When I wasn’t looking, she tampered with my car, causing a crash that killed me. My boyfriend, instead of helping me, testified that I had been driving while fatigued. The shock was too much for my parents; they both died of heart attacks. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the class reunion. 1 “I’ll drive! I know the roads around here better than anyone. It’ll be safer if I get everyone home!” Monica’s voice cut through the haze. I snapped my eyes open to see her dangling my car keys, looking expectantly at the group. I realized then: Monica had been reborn, too. Seeing my silence, she gave my shoulder a tentative push. “Ava, I’m just trying to help since everyone’s so tired. It’s just your old car. Don’t overthink it.” In my previous life, Monica knew I was allergic to alcohol and couldn’t drink, so she’d pestered me into driving my own car to the reunion. Whenever a classmate mentioned leaving early to catch the last train, she’d point at me with a sly grin and say, “What’s the rush? We’ve got our personal chauffeur, Ava!” “She used to be our class president. What’s wrong with serving us a little now?” “Next time any of you are in a jam, just do what I do. One call and she’ll pick you up. She’s so nice, she never says no.” Back then, I thought she was just tactless. She was my best friend, and I was genuinely happy to help. But now, her words dripped with a sarcasm so thick it was suffocating. After dying once, I finally understood. She never saw me as a friend. I was just her servant. I snapped back to the present and snatched the keys from her hand. “This is my car. If you’re really so kind-hearted, you can pay for everyone’s Uber.” Monica froze, then put on a wounded expression for the crowd. “Oh, so Ava drove here tonight just to show off how rich she is!” she whined. “It’s just an old car. Do you have to be so possessive?” Heads turned in my direction. “Tch, always such a show-off. She hasn’t changed a bit since graduation.” “Monica’s the only one nice enough to stay friends with her all these years.” “It’s just a beat-up car. If you love it so much, you should have just locked it up at home!” Even my boyfriend, Liam, chimed in, tugging at my arm. “Come on, Ava. Monica’s just trying to be nice and get everyone home safely. Just let her.” I stared at him, my heart a cold knot of fury. If I hadn’t been reborn, I never would have known that he and Monica had been sleeping together for who knows how long. I yanked my arm away. “Have you forgotten? Monica’s been drinking! If she gets in an accident in my car, who’s going to be responsible?” The air went still for a few seconds. Everyone exchanged uneasy glances. “She has a point. Forget it, Monica. If she doesn’t want to lend you her car, we’ll just find our own way home.” “No!” Monica waved her hands frantically. “I have to be the one to drive you all home!” She lowered her voice, trying to sound reassuring. “Don’t worry! I only had a tiny sip! Besides, it’s after one in the morning. The cops won’t be out. Trust me.” She reached out and clamped her hand over mine on the car keys. Her grip was surprisingly strong. It wasn’t hard to guess why she was so insistent. In my last life, my car was rear-ended by a Rolls-Royce. The owner, a supposed tycoon, didn’t want the hassle of insurance and just gave me the car. But how could she be so naive? To think someone would just hand over a car worth millions? Seeing my continued refusal, she suddenly burst into tears. “It’s so late! There are girls here! It’s dangerous to take a cab! It’s safer if one of us drives.” “Ava, if you think we’re taking advantage of you, I can pay you for the gas.” She fished five crisp hundred-dollar bills from her purse and shoved them at me. “Is this enough?” Liam snatched the money, pressed my keys into Monica’s palm, and turned on me. “Just let her do it!” he sneered. “Monica is just worried about everyone’s safety. I think you’re just jealous that she’s prettier and more popular than you.” Before I could retort, Monica had already plopped herself into the driver’s seat. The others started pulling me toward the back. “Come on, let’s go. I’m exhausted.” As soon as I was in the car, I heard Monica whisper excitedly, “Just you wait. This time, that million-dollar car will be mine!” I took a deep breath and smiled to myself in the darkness. You’re in such a hurry to die? Fine. I’ll help you. 02 Monica pulled out onto the road, her eyes, reflected in the rearview mirror, gleaming with a manic light. “Monica, slow down!” the classmate in the passenger seat warned. She just giggled. “Don’t worry, I’m a great driver!” I don’t know if it was the excitement or the alcohol, but we hadn’t even left the parking lot when the car lurched into a sharp, sudden turn. My stomach clenched. Before I could even open my mouth to scream, there was a sickening crunch. An electric scooter was on its side, and a woman was sprawled on the pavement. The car erupted in chaos. “Monica, what the hell are you doing?” “Can you even drive? Maybe you should just give the keys back to Ava!” As the others berated her, Monica’s face went pale, her hands trembling on the steering wheel. Liam panicked. He quickly unbuckled her seatbelt. “Monica, get in the back! Quick!” He lowered his voice, his eyes darting around nervously. “When the police get here, we’ll just say Ava was driving.” I stared at him in disbelief. “You want me to take the fall for her?” Liam squared his jaw, his voice dripping with self-righteousness. “Monica is your best friend. What’s the big deal with helping her out?” “You haven’t been drinking, and you have insurance. What are you so afraid of?” He yanked Monica out of the driver’s seat. “Hurry, Monica. I won’t let anything happen to you.” But Monica suddenly snapped back to reality. She glanced at her watch, then violently shook her head, pulling away from Liam. She ran over to the woman on the ground. “How much do you want?” “Name your price. Just don’t call the police. I can give you whatever you want!” The others started whispering. “What’s wrong with Monica? A private settlement will cost a fortune.” “Yeah, what if the woman asks for something outrageous?” “Monica, Ava’s car is insured. Just come back.” Monica ignored them, pressing the woman insistently. “Tell me how much you charge! Quick, I’m in a hurry!” The woman staggered to her feet, looking Monica up and down. “You think you can just leave? How do I know I won’t have long-term injuries?” Monica pointed at my car. “If you’re worried about that, take a picture of my license plate. But I really am in a hurry. Just name a number. I can afford it.” Liam, utterly confused, grabbed her arm. “Monica, are you drunk?” Monica surreptitiously pulled him aside and whispered something in his ear. The color drained from Liam’s face. His demeanor shifted instantly. He turned to the woman and shouted, “Monica’s right! You have the license plate. If you have any problems later, you can find the owner of this car. We have to go now!” I couldn’t believe them. This was my car! I quickly pulled out my phone, secretly started recording, and got out of the car. “I’m calling the police and my insura—” Before I could finish, Liam clamped a hand over my mouth. “Don’t!” Seeing everyone staring at him, he stammered, “Monica was just being nice driving us home. We can’t rat her out. If the police get involved, she’ll never be able to get her license. What about her reputation?” Hilarious, I thought. What about my reputation? Before I could argue, Liam leaned in close, his voice venomous. “Ava, we’re getting rid of this piece of junk tomorrow anyway. When I’m rich, I’ll buy you a new one.” Monica pulled him to her side and sneered at me. “Alright, you just think that because I was driving, you can extort me for money, right? I suggest you think bigger. There’s nothing that can’t be solved with a little cash.” At her words, the older woman held up five fingers. Monica let out a sigh of relief and immediately took out 5,000 dollars from her wallet and gave it to that woman. The woman’s jaw dropped. Monica, looking completely unfazed, said, “I thought it would be a lot more. It’s only fifty thousand.” The others were even more stunned. “Monica, I thought your family wasn’t that well off. When did you become so rich?” “Yeah, that lady looks fine. A few scrapes at most.” “Did you accidentally add an extra zero?” The woman swallowed hard, quickly righted her scooter, and took off. “Since it’s settled, it’s settled. This was your choice. Don’t come looking for me later!” The others started to go after her, but Monica stopped them. She looked smug, almost mystical. “After tonight, I’m going to be a rich woman. Think of this fifty thousand as paying to ward off a disaster. It’s no big deal.” 03 With that, Monica slid back into the driver’s seat, muttering under her breath, “Good thing that old hag didn’t waste too much time. My luxury car should be showing up any minute now.” Liam’s face lit up with excitement. He rubbed his hands together. “This is great! We’re about to be millionaires!” The people in the back seat ignored them, probably thinking they’d both lost their minds. Sure enough, ten minutes later, as Monica drove onto the same stretch of road where I’d been rear-ended in my past life, a limited-edition Rolls-Royce appeared in the rearview mirror, following closely behind. Monica saw it and started trembling with excitement. “That’s it!” She slammed on the brakes. A second later, the Rolls-Royce crashed into us. This time, the others had had enough. They started crying and screaming at Monica. “What is with our luck tonight?” “Seriously! If you can’t drive, stop trying to show off with someone else’s car!” “Let us out! I’m not riding in this car anymore!” “Monica, did you do that on purpose?!” But Monica just sneered. “Oh really? Well, when I’m a millionaire, don’t come crawling back to me.” She got out of the car, feigning bewilderment as she looked at the crumpled trunk. “What happened…?” A man hurried out of the Rolls-Royce, frowning. “Why did you brake so suddenly?” He looked to be in his thirties, his hands adorned with gold jewelry. Monica put on an innocent act. “Oh, did I? I didn’t notice. Isn’t that a crosswalk up ahead? I was just trying to slow down.” She batted her eyelashes, looking pitiable. Liam’s eyes were glued to the Rolls-Royce. “Monica, you’re a genius. It really happened…” He looked up at the driver, his tone suddenly aggressive. “No matter what, a rear-end collision is always the fault of the car behind! How dare you yell at Monica? So, how are you going to pay for this?” I pretended to panic. “This is my car! Look what you’ve done to it…” Monica shot me a sharp look. “What do you mean, your car? The car I’m driving is mine! I only let you borrow it because we’re best friends. I can’t believe you started telling people it was yours.” Liam chimed in with a smirk. “That’s right. I can vouch for that. I’m Ava’s boyfriend, I know the whole story. Monica was just trying to protect her feelings by not calling her out.” The others immediately started pointing fingers at me, sneering at my supposed hypocrisy. “So Ava’s just a poser.” “Yeah, driving someone else’s car and pretending it’s hers.” “How pathetic.” Just then, the Rolls-Royce driver glanced at his phone, and his face went white. He stumbled forward, interrupting them. “You said you’re the owner of this car, right?” he asked Monica. “Look, I just got back from overseas. I’m not familiar with the police and insurance procedures here. Besides, I have too many of these cars at home.” His voice trembled slightly. “Since I hit you, why don’t I just give you the car?” At his words, everyone sobered up instantly. “No way! What kind of crazy luck is that?” “He’s just giving away a million-dollar car?!” “Oh my god, that’s insane!” Monica was so excited she was on the verge of tears, but she tried to play it cool. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly…” The driver then looked at me. “How about I give it to you?” Before he could finish, Monica lunged forward and grabbed his arm. “Well, if you insist, I’ll accept! Let’s transfer the title tomorrow. What time works for you?” The man was sweating profusely. He hastily gave her a phone number. “Three o’clock tomorrow afternoon. I’ll meet you at the DMV.” Then he flagged down a taxi and sped away.

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It was the seventh year since I’d framed my girlfriend and sent her to prison. On a freezing winter day, I was found in the streets, my legs mangled, my body naked, begging in the pouring rain. The onlookers cheered. “It’s karma! He knocked up Amelia Hayes and refused to take responsibility. Then he ran her over with his car to force a miscarriage.” “Even worse, after tossing her a check for a hundred and fifty grand at the hospital, he turned around and sued her for extortion, getting her locked up.” “About time, though. Amelia should be getting out soon. I heard some big shot from the city’s elite circles is picking her up from prison himself. Probably going to get justice for her.” That night, I was dragged to the outskirts of town. I was forced to watch as my parents’ throats were slit, their blood draining onto the cold ground before my eyes. The next morning, I cradled their lifeless bodies, tears of blood streaming down my face. There were some things I had planned to take to my grave. Now, I regretted that decision. 1 A well-known social justice blogger paid for my parents’ funeral. In return, I finally agreed to let him film me. In front of the camera, my twisted fingers held up my ID. “Hello, everyone. I’m the monster, Laurent Cross. The truth is, there’s more to what happened all those years ago. Today, I’m here to formally report the powerful socialite, Jacob Croft…” As soon as I sent the recorded video and all the evidence to the blogger, I got a message back from him. “Give me three days. I swear I’ll get this video trending. I’ll get you justice.” I clutched my battered old phone, a bitter, helpless smile on my face. Justice didn’t matter anymore. But there was one last thing I needed to tell Amelia. BANG! The iron door of my hovel was kicked open by the local gang leader. Before I could even turn, he grabbed me by the hair and started slapping me, left and right. “Where’s today’s take?” He held out his hand, his face a grotesque mask of menace. A wave of terror washed over me. I curled into a ball on the floor, my head in my hands, trembling and begging for mercy. “Spike, I’m sorry, please don’t hit me. This is all I made today.” My blood ran cold. My numb fingers fumbled in my pockets, finally pulling out all the money I had. A few dimes, some quarters, a couple of dollar bills. All told, it was barely twenty bucks. Ever since I fell into Spike’s hands, my daily quota was five hundred dollars. Anything less earned me a beating. After all these years, I was terrified of him. As expected, Spike was not pleased. The veins on his forehead bulged. He beat me with a wooden stick, then slammed my head to the ground, his knee pressing into my stomach, pinning me down. Then he unzipped his pants and urinated all over my face. The stench was so foul it made me gag. Before he left, he glanced dismissively at my mangled legs. “Never thought the great Laurent Cross, the heir to the Cross fortune, would end up like this. Sacrificing your own legs just to keep Amelia’s parents in that fancy nursing home, becoming my personal beggar.” “Too bad,” he sneered. “You lost your legs for nothing.” I froze, a seed of doubt planting itself in my mind. Before I could process his words, the old man who tended the local cemetery came running in, his face panicked. “That plot of land on the outskirts, the one with the graveyard… it’s been bought out for development! They’re starting construction now! They’ve already dug up your parents’ graves!” My eyes instantly turned red with fury. I ignored the filth and pain, clawing my way out of the shack as fast as I could. My parents were buried in a small, private plot owned by the villagers, where old burial traditions were still honored. By the time I got there, their bodies had been unearthed, dismembered, and tossed carelessly aside. The other graves remained untouched. “Stop! Who are you? Who told you to do this?” My face was ashen with rage. I picked up a rock and hurled it at the still-operating excavator, then pounded my fists against the hard, unforgiving ground. I hated my own powerlessness. I hated the injustice of the world. My parents had been good people their whole lives. They’d never hurt a soul. Why couldn’t they even rest in peace? “I did.” A clear, female voice sounded from behind me. Amelia stood there, looking down at me, her eyes filled with an endless, burning hatred. I stared at her, stunned, my fingernails digging into my palms. The bitter, suffocating feeling in my chest was becoming unbearable. She used to be beautiful like a spring blossom, vibrant yet gentle. Now, her beauty was sharp and cold, like a shard of ice. I knew she was here for revenge. She shot me a venomous glare, then lifted her foot, bringing the four-inch heel of her designer shoe down hard on my twisted, mangled fingers. “Argh!” A searing pain shot through me, turning my face white. My body trembled uncontrollably. I could almost hear the bones in my hand snapping. “Laurent Cross,” she hissed, “you never thought I’d get out, did you? You ran me over, killed my baby, framed me, and threw me in prison, all for your own sick pleasure.” “Today, in front of your parents’ corpses, you’re going to get a taste of what it feels like to be humiliated!” She gave a meaningful look to Jacob Croft, who was standing behind her. Jacob clapped his hands lightly, a wicked smile playing on his lips. Immediately, the construction crew gagged me with a dirty rag and dragged me over to my parents’ bodies. They tore off my clothes and began to whip me, filming the entire thing… “Mmph! Mmph!” Despair and rage consumed me. My eyes, wide with fury, were locked on her as I fought for the last shreds of my dignity. When it was over, I was tossed aside like a piece of trash, left to die. And all I could see were the faces of my parents, their eyes wide open in an eternal, silent scream. “Is that all you can take, Laurent? Do you have any idea what I went through in prison?” “No, you don’t. How could a heartless monster like you, who could even kill his own flesh and blood, possibly understand?” Amelia shrieked, her voice raw with a year’s worth of pent-up hatred. She grabbed a bag of salt and poured it over my open wounds, a cruel, triumphant smile spreading across her face. I was in so much pain my face was completely white. Silent tears streamed from the corners of my eyes. My gaze was empty, dead. “I didn’t… back then… I had no choice…” 2 Back then, my family’s sworn enemy, Jacob Croft, had come for us. He swore that he would destroy everything I held dear. I thought the Cross family was powerful enough to stand against the Crofts. But I never imagined Jacob would forge alliances with the city’s criminal underworld. In just six months, he had completely erased the Cross family name from the city’s elite circles. At the time, Amelia and I were about to have our baby. For her safety, I planned to send her away in the middle of the night. But as soon as we got in the car, I was knocked unconscious. When I came to, someone had already taken my car, impersonated me, and run Amelia down. The fetus was forced out, a bloody, mangled mess. It was a horrifying sight. I knew it was a warning from Jacob. In a moment of cold, desperate clarity, I decided to play along, to let her believe the worst of me so she would hate me and stay away. But I still gave her a hundred and fifty thousand dollars, disguised as a breakup settlement. After that day, Jacob had his men watch me around the clock. I couldn’t go anywhere. By the time I was finally released, I learned that Amelia had been charged and sentenced to seven years in prison, based on a complaint that bore my forged signature. By then, the Cross family had lost all its power. All I could do was blame myself. Then, her parents were suddenly poisoned and fell into a vegetative state. Jacob used them as leverage, threatening to have them thrown out of the nursing home unless I did as he said. He forced me to lie down in the middle of the road and let a semi-truck run over my legs. Once wasn’t enough. He made the driver do it again, and again… until my legs were completely severed, a mess of flesh and bone. Only then was he satisfied. He had his men dump me with Spike, to be tortured for the rest of my days. I was terrified. I thought that by keeping the truth from Amelia, I was protecting everyone. But the moment she was released, she was manipulated by Jacob. She murdered my parents in cold blood, and now she was desecrating their graves. I finally realized how terribly wrong I had been. “No choice?” Amelia interrupted me impatiently. “You didn’t have a choice? You’re just scared of my revenge. Well, you just watch. What I have in store for you is far from over.” She pointed at my parents’ corpses, a strange, twisted smile on her cold face. “Watch closely. I’m going to feed your parents’ bodies to the dogs, as an offering to the spirit of my dead child.” “No! You can’t! My parents are innocent! They even…” My eyes widened in terror. Jacob’s eyes flickered. He kicked me hard in the chest, the pain stealing my breath and silencing my words. He shot me a mocking glance, then turned to Amelia with a gentle smile. “Amelia, even if his parents did poison yours… didn’t your mom and dad tell you when they woke up yesterday that I was the one who saved them? Let it go. An eye for an eye will only make the whole world blind.” At his words, Amelia’s eyes reddened. She fell into his arms, her voice choked with emotion. “Jacob, thank you. I see now that you’re the one who’s always been there for me.” My eyes widened in disbelief. Amelia’s parents knew! They knew that my parents had done everything in their power to get them to the hospital after they were poisoned. Why would they lie to her and say Jacob had saved them? Suddenly, Spike’s words from earlier echoed in my mind. A deep sense of unease settled over me. I felt like I was trapped in a meticulously woven web. And I was already like this… why was Jacob still lying to Amelia? What did he want? Then I saw it. The way he looked at her. There was an unmistakable, possessive affection in his eyes. Could it be that he… for Amelia… Realizing the truth, I fought through the sharp pain in my chest and forced the words out. “You’re lying! The ones who saved Amelia’s parents were—” “That’s enough, Laurent!” Jacob cut me off, his voice sharp with annoyance, but still laced with that sickeningly false sincerity. “I’m trying to calm Amelia down. Are you trying to add fuel to the fire?” I couldn’t take it anymore. I started to crawl toward Amelia, desperate to tell her everything. But Jacob stepped in front of me, his foot coming down hard on my shattered hand. “Don’t worry,” he said, his voice a low murmur. “Amelia won’t really do it. Even though you killed her child, she’s not the type to desecrate the bodies of the elderly.” The pain was excruciating. I shoved him with all my might, and he stumbled backward, falling into the pit the excavator had dug earlier. “Jacob!” Amelia cried out, rushing to help him up. Her face was flushed with anger. She glared at me, her voice a low, venomous hiss. “Isn’t it enough that you’ve already ruined my life? Now you’re trying to hurt Jacob, too? You’ll see what happens when you dig your own grave!” She shot me one last, cold look and made a phone call. A sense of dread washed over me. Ten minutes later, a small girl, no older than six or seven, was brought to the site. “Now you can watch,” Amelia said, her voice devoid of emotion, “as your sister dies in front of you.” She gave a signal, and a car sped toward the little girl. “NO!” I screamed, my voice a raw, desperate cry, my vision turning red. The one thing I had wanted to tell her was that this little girl… was our daughter. 3 The fetus that had been forced from her body that day had, by some miracle, survived. To protect her, my family had claimed she was my younger sister. The car struck the child, and she collapsed in a pool of blood, barely breathing. Jacob shot me a look that was a mixture of amusement and contempt, then picked up my daughter and tossed her in the trunk of his car. “Amelia, this one’s on her way out,” he said nonchalantly. “Let’s not let her go to waste. I can use her as a human specimen for my collection.” “Fine,” Amelia agreed without a second thought. She turned and got into the car with him, leaving me behind. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I let out a crazed, desperate roar and started to crawl after them. The sharp gravel on the ground tore at my skin, leaving a bloody trail, but I didn’t dare stop. “Amelia! She’s our daughter!” The news of Amelia’s release from prison had become a media sensation. The tragic story of what had happened seven years ago was dredged up again, and I became a reviled figure, a monster everyone loved to hate. Passersby recognized me on the street, beating and cursing me as I dragged my broken body toward the hospital. By the time I reached the entrance, I was fading in and out of consciousness, my face as white as a sheet. I saw Amelia walk out of the hospital, empty-handed. The unease in my heart spread through my entire body. I forced myself to stay awake, crawling to her feet and looking up at her with what little strength I had left. “Amelia… the child… where is she? What happened back then… it’s not what you think. The truth is…” “Shut up,” she said, her voice cold as ice. “Scared now, are you?” Her eyes, filled with malice, scanned the street and landed on a large, discarded ceramic vat. A dark, sinister idea seemed to take hold of her. The onlookers, following her gaze, understood her intention immediately. A few of the more eager ones pulled off their own filthy socks, stuffed them in my mouth, and lifted me up, dumping me into the vat, leaving only my head exposed. Amelia watched, her face impassive, a flicker of satisfaction in her eyes. “Thank you all for your support,” she said to the crowd, her voice ringing with a newfound confidence. “Things are different now. I have powerful friends. No matter how you choose to humiliate him today, no matter how far you take it, I have the power to clean up any mess.” She gave Jacob a look filled with adoration, then bowed deeply to the crowd. Everyone knew what that meant. With Jacob Croft backing her, they could kill me, and no one would ever be held accountable. “Mmph! Mmph!” All I could think about was my daughter’s safety. I thrashed around in the vat, trying to make any sound I could to get her attention. But she didn’t spare me a single glance. She just turned and got into the car, driving away. Jacob shot me a malicious look, then whispered something to the men who had put me in the vat before getting into the car and following her. That night, they sawed off both of my arms. They filled the vat with snakes and scorpions and other venomous creatures, torturing me for three days and three nights. When I was barely breathing, Jacob appeared. He pulled the gag from my mouth. “Laurent, you really have lost everything, haven’t you? To be destroyed like this by the woman you love.” “I bet you don’t even know,” he continued, a cruel smile on his face. “It was me who knocked you out. It was me who drove your car and ran Amelia over. And it was me who forged your signature to send her to prison.” I had already figured out most of what he was saying. But his next words hit me like a physical blow. “Actually, Amelia’s parents were never poisoned. All it took was a few well-placed words from me, and they were more than happy to play along with my little charade to get revenge on you. The one driving the truck that ran over your legs? That was Amelia’s father. He was just getting even for his little girl.” “And do you know why I sent her to prison, only to be the one to get her out? Because I needed to sever all her ties, to break her completely. Only then, when she was at her most helpless, would she let me in, would she let me control her.” I met his gaze, my own eyes filled with a cold, mocking light. “You can’t fool me, Jacob. You’ve fallen in love with her. You sent her to prison to cut her off from everything she knew, so that when she was at her lowest, she would cling to you like a lifeline.” “If she ever finds out that everything she’s suffered was because of your twisted, obsessive love… do you think she’ll hate you?” My words struck a nerve. For a fleeting moment, I saw panic in his eyes. But he quickly composed himself, his face twisting into a hideous grin. He grabbed my jaw, forcing my mouth open. He raised a small knife and plunged it into my mouth, slicing off my tongue. “Hmph. If you can’t talk, how will she ever know?” A warm, metallic liquid filled my mouth. An unbearable pain consumed me, threatening to swallow me whole. But I held on, clinging to consciousness, desperate to find out what had happened to my daughter. “Jacob? How is he?” Amelia’s voice, filled with concern, came from the end of the alley. Jacob’s body tensed. He quickly tossed the knife aside, wiped the blood from my mouth with the back of his hand, and then clutched his own hand, letting out a pained cry. “Ah!” “Jacob! What’s wrong?” she cried, rushing to his side. Jacob bit his lip, sucking in a sharp breath. “I was just trying to give him something to eat. I guess he’s still angry about his ‘sister.’ He took it out on me… he bit me.” Amelia looked up and saw the blood around my mouth, then looked at the bloody marks on the back of his hand. Her face contorted with rage. I could only shake my head helplessly, silent tears mixing with the blood in my mouth. “Laurent Cross, I’m going to kill you!” she shrieked. She ordered her men to take the vat, with me still inside it, and throw it into the river to drown me. I was terrified. My breath came in ragged gasps. I thrashed against the sides of the vat, my eyes pleading with her. I tried to tell her, with every fiber of my being, that the girl she had run over was our daughter, that this was all Jacob’s sick game. But she ignored my frantic movements. As the vat was submerged, the last thing I heard was her cold, detached voice. “Jacob, that girl is still breathing. But the people at your lab said that for the best vascular specimens, it’s better to use a live subject. I don’t understand any of that, so I’ve already sent her over.” “Thank you, Amelia,” Jacob replied, his voice smooth as silk. “Thank you for putting aside your personal feelings and providing the girl’s body for study. This will be an invaluable contribution to clinical medicine.” In that moment, the last thread of hope that had kept me alive snapped. I closed my eyes in despair and let my consciousness slip away.

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The night before our wedding, I found a photo on Ryan’s phone—him with a delicate, starry-eyed girl. I confronted him immediately. After an all-night smoking session, he confessed: “I rescued her on a mission. She’s depressed. I wavered… but I’ll keep my distance.” I swallowed my pain and forgave him. But at the altar, his teammate burst in: “Captain! Skye’s on a roof—she’ll jump if you marry!” The ring hit the floor as Ryan sprinted out. “Leave now, and we’re through!” I screamed. He hesitated—just for a second—but kept running. 1 The wedding hall descended into chaos. The whispers of the guests were like a thousand tiny needles piercing my eardrums. Our parents rushed over, a storm of confusion on their faces. Ryan’s teammate, Cole, stood by helplessly, his face flushed red. “Mia… I… Skye, she has depression. The last time she tried to jump, the captain was the one who saved her. She… she really depends on him. He’s the only one who can talk her down… It’s a matter of life and death. The captain had no choice. Please, don’t blame him…” Cole had been with Ryan’s squad for three years. He’d always been respectful, calling me “Mia” with a warm, easy smile. Now, he couldn’t even meet my eyes. I had no idea how many secrets he’d helped Ryan keep, or how entangled he was with this girl, Skye. A dense, suffocating pain spread through my chest. This was betrayal, real and sharp. My parents gripped my hands, their voices tight with panic. “What on earth is going on? Isn’t he on leave for the wedding? Who could possibly need him to go on a rescue now?” Ryan’s parents, mortified, started dialing his number, muttering frantically, “Mia, don’t you worry, I’ll get that brat on the phone right now. If he doesn’t come back, I’ll break his legs!” The diamond ring lay on the red carpet, kicked aside by passing feet until it rolled far away, much like my shattered heart. I stood frozen, the train of my wedding dress pooled on the floor like a cloud wilted by a storm. The wedding I had dreamed of a million times had turned into this humiliating spectacle. The groom had abandoned his bride in a hall full of well-wishers, all for another woman. For five solid hours, I made 108 calls. Ryan didn’t answer a single one. I watched my phone screen go dark, light up, and finally fade to black. The sun streamed through the stained-glass windows of the chapel, casting mottled patterns of light on the floor. A beam landed on my empty ring finger, a touch as cold as ice. The guests gradually dispersed, leaving behind a battlefield of streamers and half-eaten reception food. Suddenly, the room started to spin. The last thing I heard was my mother’s terrified cry. When I opened my eyes again, the sterile smell of disinfectant filled my nose. A nurse was changing my IV drip. Seeing I was awake, she said softly, “You have to take care of yourself now. You’re taking care of two.” I stared at the ceiling as silent tears streamed into my hair. From the moment he handed me a love letter on the high school track at seventeen, to the surprise of him taking a twenty-hour train ride just to see me when we were in different colleges, to the day he became a firefighter, his eyes red as he promised, “From now on, I’ll protect the people, but I’ll always protect you first.” Seven years. The memories flashed through my mind like a movie on fast-forward. I looked at the poorly concealed excitement on our parents’ faces and managed a bitter smile. How was I supposed to tell them that our seven-year love story had just reached its end? At seven o’clock that evening, after disappearing for six hours, Ryan finally showed up. 2 His face was pale, and he looked at me with a flicker of guilt. “Mia, I’m sorry,” he rasped. “Skye… I couldn’t just let her die. Saving people is my duty.” I swallowed the bitterness in my throat. “There are dozens of other firefighters. Did they really need you?” “She chose today, our wedding day, to jump. She wouldn’t come down until you arrived. What do you think her intentions are?” “Ryan, I’m not an idiot.” After a long silence, he took my cold hand, his voice strained. “Mia, in seven years, I’ve never asked you for anything. Just this once, I’m begging you, please don’t make a scene. Don’t let this get out and affect Skye’s reputation. Can you do that for me? I’m afraid… with her condition, she can’t handle that kind of blowback.” I stared at the desperate plea in his eyes. My heart felt like it was being squeezed by an iron fist, the pain so intense I could barely breathe. He shouldn’t have been begging me. He should have been apologizing to me. A person’s first instinct doesn’t lie. He hadn’t thought about how humiliated I would be, left alone at our wedding. He hadn’t worried about why I was in the hospital. His first words, his first thoughts, were all for Skye. Tears fell like broken pearls, landing on the white duvet and spreading into dark, wet stains. It took all my strength to force out a single word. “Fine.” He visibly relaxed. “Skye knows I was getting married now, and she’s very unstable. Let’s postpone the wedding for a while.” “I’ll stay with her while she gets treatment. Once she’s a little more stable… maybe three months. Just three months, and then we’ll have our wedding. Okay?” His voice was a careful, tentative probe. I had waited seven years. What was another three months? But looking at the undeniable concern for another woman in his eyes, I suddenly felt that I couldn’t wait another three months. I couldn’t wait another day. The little life inside me seemed to sense my turmoil and gave a gentle flutter. I placed a hand on my abdomen. A six-week-old life was hidden there—ours, yet it felt like it had nothing to do with him anymore. I slowly pulled my hand away, my voice as still as a dead pond. “Ryan.” “I don’t have the best memory, but I remember when I was seventeen, you handed me that letter on the track, so nervous you were tripping over your own feet.” “I remember the first time you held my hand. Your palm was slick with sweat, and you walked three whole blocks without daring to let go.” “I remember the day we graduated from college, you held me and swore you’d take care of me forever, that you’d make me the happiest bride in the world.” “All these years, you remembered I don’t eat onions, you remembered I need ginger tea during my period, you remembered every little habit… I always thought you cherished me, that you held me in the palm of your hand.” I looked up at him, and the tears finally broke free. “But today… today I don’t feel your love for me at all.” Seven years of memories surged through his mind as well. Ryan’s eyes reddened, and a single tear traced a path down his cheek. “But Mia,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, “Skye… she can’t live without me right now.” She can’t live without me. That one sentence shattered the last remnants of hope I had. I looked at him and suddenly, I smiled through my tears. “Then go to her.” He stared, clearly not expecting me to say that. But in the end, he said nothing more. He just turned and walked out of my hospital room. The next day, as I was packing up to leave, I ran into Ryan in the hallway. 3 He didn’t even see me. All his attention was focused on the girl by his side. She was wearing a hospital gown, her face pale, half-supported in his arms like a frightened fawn. So this was the person who had made him abandon me at the altar. My gaze must have been too heavy, because Skye saw me first. She instinctively shrank behind Ryan, her fingers clutching the corner of his shirt. Only then did Ryan turn to me. His brow furrowed, his tone laced with impatience. “Mia, Skye is emotionally fragile. Whatever you want to say, we can talk about it at home. Don’t make a scene at the hospital and scare her.” Skye peeked out from behind him, her voice a barely audible whisper. “Mia… Ryan and I… it’s not what you think. Please don’t misunderstand.” I clutched the ultrasound report in my hand, my knuckles turning white, but I managed a faint smile. “You’re overthinking it. I’m just here to handle my discharge paperwork.” With that, I turned my back on them and walked toward the payment counter. Ryan’s expression was strange for a moment, as if my calmness had thrown him off, leaving an inexplicable hollowness in his chest. He reached out to grab my arm, but I instinctively pulled away. My eyes caught on a small, fresh stain on his jacket. His gaze followed mine. Seeing me shrugging off my own coat, he took off his jacket, intending to drape it over my shoulders, but I dodged him. He froze, then followed me, trying to take my coat from my hands. “Let me take that. I know how much you love this coat. I’ll have it cleaned for you.” I shook my head and tossed the coat into a nearby trash can, my voice flat. “Just throw it away. I don’t like things with stains on them. You know me, I’m a bit of a perfectionist.” Seeing my cold expression, the flicker of a smile on Ryan’s face froze. He knew I wasn’t just talking about the coat. I was talking about us. He tried to speak again, but I had already paid and walked away. A short while after I left the hospital, my phone buzzed with a text from him: [Don’t be mad at me. I ordered you that Napoleon cake you said you wanted the other day. It’s on its way.] When the delivery arrived, I stared at the familiar pink box and suddenly laughed. Whenever he made me angry, he would buy me this cake to appease me. I mechanically took a bite. It used to taste so sweet. Now, it was just bitter and hard to swallow. That night, Ryan didn’t come home. The pain of severing a seven-year bond was worse than I had imagined. I lay awake until dawn, then finally got up and started packing. The matching couple’s hoodies in the closet, the photo frames lined up on the bookshelf, the sticky notes on the fridge… every object was a memory, sharp and piercing. I remembered the year we graduated. Ryan had just become a firefighter and was constantly busy. But he would use his days off to come see me, his eyes shining like stars. “Mia, as soon as I save up for a down payment, I’m going to marry you.” Three years later, he stood before me with a deed and a diamond ring, his voice trembling. “I did it. I’m giving you a home. I keep my promises.” The sun was so beautiful that day. I cried in his arms for a long time, feeling like the luckiest person in the world. We painted the walls together, assembled furniture together, and filled the balcony with sunflowers, my favorite. He said he wanted to make sure the sun would always shine in our home. But now, this home no longer had a place for me. As I sealed the last storage box, the sky began to lighten. Just as the moving truck I’d called arrived, both sets of our parents showed up. I hadn’t told them the details, so they couldn’t understand why two people on the verge of marriage were suddenly splitting up. My parents sighed but didn’t press, only saying, “You can always come home.” But Ryan’s mother clung to my hand, refusing to let go. “Mia, please, just give Ryan one more chance. What happened at the wedding… he was just confused for a moment…” I didn’t speak, just motioned for the movers to continue. Just as Ryan’s mom was about to wear herself out talking, the door opened. Ryan was back. 4 And he had brought Skye with him. She was wearing his jacket, clinging to his arm like a newly claimed kitten. The room fell deathly silent. Every eye was fixed on them. Ryan’s mother’s voice trembled. “Ryan… did you… did you do something to betray Mia?” His father was shaking with rage. “Who is this girl?!” Ryan didn’t answer. He just scanned the empty living room, his gaze finally landing on me. “You’re moving out?” “Yes,” I answered calmly. “Back to my parents’ place.” He seemed to relax. “Okay. I’ll come get you before the new wedding date.” He said it so casually, then turned and pulled Skye in front of him. “This is Skye. She’s a patient with depression I rescued on a mission. The department has asked me to look after her for a while to help stabilize her condition.” His straightforwardness made our earlier suspicions seem petty and small-minded. Skye offered a sweet smile and reached for his mother’s arm. “It’s so nice to meet you, ma’am. Ryan takes such good care of me. He even brought me home for dinner today. Since everyone’s here, why don’t I cook? You can all try my cooking.” Ryan’s mother looked at me, her expression pained. “Mia, maybe… maybe we should all sit down and talk this through?” I was about to refuse when Skye cut in, a glint of defiance in her eyes. “You should stay too, Mia. The more the merrier, right?” SLAP! The crisp sound of a slap echoed through the room. My eyes widened in shock as I saw my mom hit Skye across the face. “Mom!” My mother’s eyes were red as she glared at me, her voice shaking violently. “I gave birth to you. You think I don’t know you?” “You’ve been with him since you were seventeen. You’re twenty-four now! Seven years! For him, you quit your job at the design firm to be a housewife. You learned to cook his favorite dishes. You even know exactly where he keeps his socks… Do you think you would leave unless your heart was completely broken?” “I don’t care if you marry rich, but today he brought another woman into your home to humiliate you, and I will not stand for it as your mother!” “If you won’t stand up for yourself, I’ll do it for you!” My mother’s words hit me like thunder, and my eyes burned with tears. Skye clutched her cheek, her own tears welling up, but she didn’t dare cry out. Ryan immediately shielded her, his face dark with fury. “Mia! How old are you? Still running to your parents to tattle…” Before he could finish, I rushed forward and slapped him. “Ryan, you’re the one who deserves to be hit!” Then, I pulled a piece of paper from the coffee table drawer and threw it at his chest. It was the ultrasound report. “Do you know what my biggest regret is?” Ryan picked up the paper. As he read the words, his pupils constricted. “Mia… you’re pregnant?”

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My best friend and I both married into the Thorne family, the undisputed rulers of our city. I married the family’s heir apparent, the formidable Joseph Thorne. She married the nation’s heartthrob, the award-winning actor, Parker Thorne. One afternoon, she stared at a paparazzi photo of Parker having dinner with his first love, a beautiful ingenue named Claire. With a pained expression, she turned to me. “Are you in? “Once we’re divorced, we can each get a couple of male models and travel the world.” I stared at the press release announcing Claire as the new face of Thorne Industries. I hardened my heart. “I’m in! “But the models have to be good… better than Joseph in bed!” As the words left my mouth, a shadow fell over me. Joseph’s voice was cool and dangerous. “Darling,” he murmured, “are you sure you can find anyone better?” 1 Merrin and I were sitting side-by-side on the sprawling sofa, scrolling through our phones. Suddenly, her finger froze on the screen. I leaned over to look. Oh, boy. A notorious gossip site had snapped a picture of her husband, Parker, having an intimate dinner with the recently returned starlet, Claire Vance. He had his arm around her; they looked cozy. Claire was the “one that got away” for both Thorne brothers. Their families were old friends, and since we’d married into the family, we’d only heard about her from our sweet, naive mother-in-law. “I do wish Claire would call, I miss her so.” “Would one of you dears ask Claire when she’s coming back?” Claire, Claire, Claire. The name had become a constant, low-grade source of anxiety for both of us. Merrin’s expression flickered with a brief, haunted look. But she quickly composed herself, her voice firm despite the pain. “I’m filing for divorce.” “Are you in?” My interest piqued to about a 10%. After all, I’d been Merrin’s shadow my whole life. She chose a science major, I chose a science major. She went to Stanford, I went to Stanford. She married a Thorne, and I happily followed suit. But my husband hadn’t been caught having dinner with his first love. Was divorce a bit extreme? Sensing my hesitation, she upped the ante. “Parker’s salary goes directly to my account. I can support you, babe. “Once we’re divorced, two male models each. We’ll travel the world.” My interest shot up to 40%. Male models sounded nice, but just two… probably not as good as Joseph. “Ten! Ten male models!” Interest level: 80%. My eyes widened, the word “yes” on the tip of my tongue. But a final shred of reason held me back. A notification pinged on my phone. A headline blared across the screen. ‘Ingenue Claire Vance Named Annual Spokesperson for Thorne Industries! Contract Rumored to be Worth $50 Million!’ The accompanying photo was of her and Joseph at a ribbon-cutting ceremony. She was radiant, smiling triumphantly. And behind her, my dear husband was gazing at her with a deep, intense look. He never looked at me like that. Whenever I tried to joke with him or do something silly, he’d just give me a look like I was an idiot and say: “Are you insane?” At that thought, I hardened my heart. “I’m in!” Merrin was ecstatic, immediately calling her lawyer. She rattled off her demands for the property division like a pro. My eyes went wide when I heard her say she wanted half of the Thorne family fortune. How much money was that? She even haggled with the lawyer, arguing for a discount since she was bringing him two cases. Now I remember why Merrin was the leader and I was the follower. She was just smarter. I stared at my phone’s wallpaper, a photo from our wedding. A pang of regret hit me. Joseph didn’t just give me money; he provided… other kinds of pleasure, and plenty of it. I spoke up hesitantly. “Um… the models have to be really good.” Merrin turned to me, her expression instantly freezing. Still lost in my fantasy, I continued, “They have to be better in bed than Joseph!” Merrin clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a gasp, her other hand trembling as she pointed behind me. Before I could turn, a familiar hand reached out and grabbed the back of my neck, lifting me like a kitten and depositing me at his side. His voice was laced with ice. “If I’m so good in bed, why are you leaving me?” 2 I turned my head mechanically, my eyes meeting Joseph’s frosty gaze. He narrowed his eyes at Merrin, as if she were the one who had put the idea of divorce in my head. “Sister-in-law,” he said, his voice dripping with menace, “Parker is on his way. You should probably figure out how you’re going to explain this to him.” Merrin froze, then plopped onto the sofa, her mind clearly racing. She was too preoccupied to notice the desperate SOS signals I was sending her. So much for our best-friend telepathy. I could only stare meekly at Joseph’s chiseled profile. When he finally turned to look at me, his expression shifted. A faint smile played on his lips, but his voice was still cold. “One divorce in this family is enough. They can get divorced. We won’t.” Joseph’s voice had always been like a drug to me. It hypnotized me into nodding. I nodded obediently, all thoughts of divorce and male models vanishing into thin air. The roar of a sports car echoed from outside. That had to be Parker, the flashy car enthusiast, coming home. A screech of tires, and a minute later, he burst through the door. He was clearly coming straight from a film set, still in his historical costume, his face etched with fatigue. He glanced at us. “Joseph. Aubrey.” Joseph, his arm around my waist, gave a cool nod. “Your wife is trying to convince my wife to get a divorce. You handle it.” Parker strode over to Merrin. He rubbed his temples, his voice laced with impatience. “Merrin, what is it this time? “Last time you wanted a divorce because I had a kissing scene. I haven’t taken a role with a kissing scene since. “The time before that, an assistant gave me a homemade cake. I fired her immediately. “What are you unhappy about now?” Merrin laughed coldly and threw her phone at him. “See for yourself.” I was just getting into the drama when Joseph pulled me away. “Let’s not get involved in other people’s business.” So, we’re not part of the Thorne family now? I grumbled silently, but followed him obediently. In the passenger seat, I asked him quietly, “Why Claire as the spokesperson?” She had just returned to the country, hadn’t been in the business long, and had no major credits to her name. With an award-winning actor in the family, you’d think they’d avoid any appearance of nepotism. Besides, there were countless popular actresses to choose from. Logically, she shouldn’t have even been in the running. “Aubrey, don’t listen to Merrin’s nonsense. “Claire is just a family friend I grew up with. I have no other feelings for her.” No other feelings? Then what about the photo of the two of them I found in his drawer when we first got married? I had shown it to Merrin, my hands trembling. She didn’t say anything, just went to her room and came back with another photo. It turned out to be a picture of the three of them. Claire was in the middle, smiling sweetly. Joseph had cut his brother out of his copy. Parker had cut his brother out of his. Such perfect synergy. Truly brothers. I stopped talking, turned up the car stereo, and stared out the window. 3 Joseph seemed determined to keep me away from Merrin. He took me to his office and watched me like a hawk. During meetings, he’d even give me a pen and paper so I could sit behind him and doodle. I had to admit, he was incredibly handsome when he was working. The eyes behind his gold-rimmed glasses were focused intently on the screen. He would interject at key moments, his comments sharp and insightful. He rarely showed any emotion, but occasionally he’d glance back at me, as if to say, Are you bored? It’s almost over. But the meeting dragged on forever, so long that I almost fell asleep. I was used to it. This was the man who would rush back to the office on our wedding anniversary because of a subordinate’s mistake, leaving me to stare at the flowers and cake on the top floor of a hotel. I’d had to call Merrin to come over so the king-sized bed wouldn’t go to waste. Finally, the secretary knocked. “Miss Vance is here.” “We’ll continue this tomorrow.” Only Claire could pull him out of work mode. I followed him out, seeing Claire for the first time. I’d looked her up online. 25 years old, a squeaky-clean resume, not a single negative story. Not even the media knew she was a Vance, a testament to how well her family had protected her. She was wearing a white dress, looking exactly like she had in that photo from when she was 18. I suddenly understood why both brothers were so hung up on her. That pure, innocent quality… no man could resist it. “Joseph,” she cooed sweetly. “I hope I’m not interrupting.” She completely ignored me, probably assuming I was just a secretary. “Not at all,” Joseph said. “You’re right on time.” He turned and instructed his secretary to take me to the lounge. He also told her to order some of my favorite desserts and fruit teas. The picture of a considerate man. But this considerate man hadn’t looked at me once since she’d arrived. The air conditioning in the lounge was on full blast, and a chill seeped into my heart. I saw a dozen missed calls from Merrin on my phone and called her back. This time, I was the one who asked first. “Merrin, are you still getting a divorce?” There was a moment of silence on the other end, then a firm voice. “Yes.” 4 Merrin and I met at a bar and drank ourselves into oblivion. “Aubrey, do you know what that bastard Parker said to me?” “He said he only met with Claire because she just got back and asked him to introduce her to some industry contacts.” “What about me? I was a rising star once. I had just as much talent as she does.” “But what did I get for marrying him? A life where I can’t be in the spotlight, and a man whose heart isn’t with me.” “But you got money,” I whispered. Merrin’s spending habits were legendary. Marrying into the Thorne family, with their deep pockets, was the only reason she hadn’t gone bankrupt. At my words, her hazy eyes lit up. She grabbed my hand, her voice firm, as if she were taking an oath. “You’re right! I have money! The Thornes only have two sons. We’ll take half their fortune. What kind of man can’t we find then?” She paused, as if a thought had just struck her. “You and Joseph didn’t sign a prenup, did you?” Actually, we had. Before the wedding, in front of a lawyer, Joseph had presented me with an agreement. At the time, I was so captivated by his face and his body that I signed it without even looking. When Merrin heard this, she groaned. “Damn it. Then we can only take a quarter.” “How much is a quarter?” I asked. She counted on her fingers. “Enough for each of us to hire ten top-tier male models a day, a different set every day, until we die.” “Yay!” We happily decided that as soon as the lawyers drafted the divorce papers, we would officially split. While waiting for the papers, it was our mother-in-law’s birthday. We had to keep up appearances, so we attended the gala together, leaving the two brothers to stare at each other in confusion. Usually, we would be on their arms, helping them network. Today, they were on their own. At first, Merrin and I thought our mother-in-law was trying to put us, her two less-than-satisfactory daughters-in-law, in our place. But it turned out she genuinely adored Claire. We heard she had always wanted a daughter, but had two sons instead. With the Vances being busy, she had practically raised the princess-like Claire herself. Merrin couldn’t take it anymore and was about to drag me away. But Claire glanced over, her voice intentionally loud. “I don’t believe I’ve met my sisters-in-law. Aunt Linda, won’t you introduce us?” Great. Now we were stuck. She greeted us sweetly, complimenting Merrin on her beauty. No kidding. Merrin was breathtaking. If she were still in the entertainment industry, Claire wouldn’t stand a chance. When it was my turn, she looked me up and down and said I looked… “like I enjoy a good meal.” …So what if I’d gained a few pounds recently and looked a little chubby next to Merrin? Did she have to be so catty? I held my tongue, but Merrin wouldn’t let it slide. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, sister. You have such an ethereal quality, like a pure lotus blossom, untouched by the mud.” “And that white dress… it really brings out your inner white lotus, doesn’t it?” Our mother-in-law didn’t get the dig and nodded approvingly. Claire’s face turned from red to green, like a traffic light. She didn’t retort, just scurried over to stand between the two brothers, a picture of perfect harmony. Merrin and I exchanged a look. Our resolve to divorce hardened. Many of Parker’s investors were at the party. Claire wasn’t about to miss this opportunity, coyly following him around and networking. Merrin’s eyes narrowed. “That director, Wu? He wanted me for his last film, but I was too love-struck to accept,” she whispered. “And that producer, Wang? He offered to start a production company for me. Even after I quit, he’d still email me every so often, asking me to come back.” “Damn it, she’s reaping all the benefits. If I’d known this would happen, I would have died trying to make it in the industry.” She was practically steaming. The final straw was when Claire, in front of everyone, casually brushed an eyelash from Parker’s face. The anger that had been simmering all night finally boiled over. Merrin found her moment and brought her stiletto heel down hard on Claire’s dress. Claire gasped. She looked down to see a large tear in her skirt. While it wasn’t revealing, a torn gown at an event like this was mortifying. Parker rushed over and grabbed Merrin. “Merrin! What are you doing? Why would you humiliate her like that?” Joseph came over to me. “Can you lend her a dress?” It was the first thing either of them had said to us all night. I smiled. “Of course. You bought them all, so you can decide.” He looked at me with an unreadable expression, then waved a hand, instructing a maid to take Claire upstairs to change. Merrin and I fled the Thorne mansion. We jumped into the red sports car Parker had bought her and sped off, hitting 120 mph on the highway. When we finally stopped, she said, “I’m not waiting for the papers. We’re leaving tomorrow.” 5 The next day, we were in the Maldives. This had been our dream honeymoon destination. But Joseph was too busy with work, and Parker had a packed filming schedule, so it never happened. We lounged on the beach, mojitos in hand, basking in the sun. It was pure bliss. But our phones wouldn’t stop ringing. Parker texted her: “Are you done with your tantrum? If so, come home.” “I already apologized to Claire on your behalf.” “I haven’t even gotten mad at you for wanting a divorce, and now you’re giving me the silent treatment?” Joseph was much calmer. “Stop messing around with Merrin and come home. I’ll take you shopping.” “Come back when you’re done playing. The dog is waiting for you to feed him.” One of them hadn’t grasped the severity of the situation, and the other thought his wife was just on vacation. A pair of idiots. My family must have been blind. But I did miss my dog. “Can we add a clause to the divorce agreement that I get custody of the dog?” I asked Merrin. Merrin nodded and called the lawyer. He said he could have the papers sent to the Thorne mansion the next day. We were both satisfied, turned off our phones, took off our sunglasses, and started scouting for handsome, pale-skinned, long-legged foreign men on the beach. 6 When we finally turned our phones back on, they exploded with notifications. The brothers hadn’t expected us to be serious. Now, they were truly panicking. Parker’s messages went from angry to pleading, finally ending with: “If you divorce me, you only get half my money. If you don’t, it’s all yours.” Merrin rolled her eyes. “You think I’m after your money? That’s hilarious.” She wasn’t. When she started dating Parker, she didn’t even know he was a Thorne. “What did your husband… I mean, Joseph, say?” I handed her my phone, my hand trembling. Joseph’s text read: ‘Didn’t you say I was good in bed? If I’m so good, can we not get a divorce?’ Merrin tapped out a reply on my phone. When she handed it back, I almost dropped it in the pool. ‘I was inexperienced then. Now that I’ve tried others, I realize you’re not that great.’ Talk about a low blow. But I hadn’t actually tried anyone else. We were all talk and no action. We were used to fine dining; it was hard to work up an appetite for fast food. The male model I’d ordered yesterday… I’d only managed to touch his hand. Merrin was braver; she’d felt his abs. Then she’d pursed her lips and said, “Too scrawny. Not as good as Parker’s.” We were tired of playing, and there was no news on the divorce papers, so we decided to head home. I don’t know how Joseph found out our flight details, but he was waiting for us at the arrival gate. It was a weekday; he should have been at the office. I was about to pull on a hat and sunglasses and pretend I didn’t know him, but Merrin poked me. “Don’t bother. His eyes haven’t left you since we came out.” “We have to go back and force them to sign anyway. Might as well hitch a ride.” We didn’t say a word and got into Joseph’s car. The moment I walked in the door, my beloved dog rushed over, his tail wagging furiously, his whole body radiating love. They say men are like dogs, but I think dogs are better. Parker was also home, sitting silently on the sofa. We each followed our future ex-husbands to our respective suites. I looked around the bedroom we had shared for three years. The “double happiness” character on the wall had faded. Joseph had torn it down the day after our wedding; he preferred a minimalist aesthetic and couldn’t stand all the frills. I had made him put it back up later, and it was still there. Joseph was genuinely angry. He threw the divorce papers in front of me. “So,” he said, “you’ve tried others and decided I’m not good enough? That’s why you want a divorce?” I stiffened my neck. “Yes! Others are better than you!” He suddenly pushed me down onto the sofa, his kiss so forceful I couldn’t push him away. We hadn’t been this intimate in months. He was always too busy, often coming home late and collapsing into bed. After a long time, he released me. Tears welled in my eyes. “Not only are you not that great in bed, your kissing sucks too!” That really set him off. The veins in his neck bulged, his voice as cold as ice. “You’d better tell me that’s not true. Otherwise, I will find that man and I will kill him.” He was a psychopath. I’d always known that. When we first got married, I was working at a small company and was sexually harassed by my boss. I told Joseph, crying. The next day, the company went bankrupt. The boss was ambushed on his way home and beaten so badly he was permanently disabled. He was also sent to prison for embezzlement. Joseph hadn’t let me work since. My tears finally started to fall. “Joseph, I really do want a divorce. “I’ve been married to you for three years, and in your heart, work will always be more important than me. “You missed my birthday, you left me on our wedding anniversary, and all you ever do is try to make up for it with jewelry and handbags. You can’t even say you’re sorry. “And now Claire is back, and she’s more important than me too. Why should this marriage continue?” He looked stunned. “What does Claire have to do with this?” I pointed to his drawer. “There used to be a treasured photo of the two of you in there. You think I didn’t know? How do you think the photo disappeared? I tore it up with my own hands.” He put a hand to his forehead. “I honestly don’t remember that photo, and I have no idea when you tore it up, because I never even looked at it.” I closed my eyes, feeling tired. “It doesn’t matter. Arguing about this is pointless. “Since we got married, I’ve been begging you to take me on a honeymoon. You always said you were too busy, that we should wait. And we’ve waited for three years. “Now I’ve been, and I suddenly realize that I can go out and see the world without you. “The world outside is so exciting and beautiful, so much better than sitting at home, foolishly waiting for you to come back. “Just let me go. We signed a prenup. I won’t take a single penny from you. Just let me leave, please?” I had never seen Joseph bow his head, except in the heat of passion. But now, his head was bowed, his face hidden in shadow, his expression unreadable. After a long time, he looked up, the corners of his eyes red. “Fine,” he said. “I agree.” The tension that had been holding me together finally snapped. I had gotten what I wanted, but I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “But the dog stays with me. You can come and see him whenever you want.” I forced a smile. “Okay.” He silently picked up the papers, his hand trembling as he signed. It made my own heart tremble. As I walked out of the Thorne mansion, I couldn’t help but look back one last time. Joseph stood at the door, unmoving, holding our dog, who was struggling to run to me.

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I opened my eyes and I was eighteen again. I was in a classroom, a grimy, yellowing box, and a group of boys were using me to settle a bet. “…I’m telling you, for twenty bucks, you could get a feel of Claire. Any takers?” Their laughter was a low, dirty murmur. Finally, they settled on a champion. “Leo, you do it.” Leo’s voice, cool and confident, cut through the noise. “Sure. Why not?” I kept my head down on the desk, my eyes squeezed shut, and waited for his footsteps. 1 Tap. Tap. Tap. Leo’s knuckles rapped against my desk. I feigned a groggy awakening, lifting my head. “What is it?” “You busy after school? Need to talk to you about something.” I studied him. He was a master of feigned indifference, his posture ramrod straight, his expression meticulously casual. He looked so damn respectable. I played along, my own voice flat. “I’m free.” “Cool. Wait for me after the last bell.” He spun on his heel, a perfect, smooth pivot, and sauntered back to his seat. A wave of snickering followed him. I didn’t have to look to know the predatory grins plastered on their faces. Tch. A bunch of assholes. I buried my face in my arms again. I had no idea what kind of cosmic joke this was, being thrown back into my eighteen-year-old life. A life where my stomach was a hollow, aching pit, a void I could only try to fill with tap water from the school fountain. During lunch break, other kids napped because they were tired. I napped because the gnawing hunger made it impossible to do anything else. But sleep wouldn’t come. So I heard everything. The whispers of the boys. Their talk of video games, comics, basketball… and girls. I was one of their favorite topics. The pretty, poor girl. In any school, that combination makes you a target. But for a girl, their bullying took on a darker, more disgusting flavor. They were betting twenty dollars. And ten years ago, I had actually done it. For twenty miserable dollars, I followed Leo into the woods behind the school. He gave me the cash. I unbuttoned my shirt. Then, click. The sound of a camera shutter. The next day, the photo was all over the class group chat. From then on, I didn’t have a name. I was just “Twenty Bucks.” 2 When the final bell rang, Leo was the first one out the door. I grabbed my worn-out backpack. “Let’s go,” he said, waiting for me in the hall. I followed him without a word. We walked off campus, heading toward the woods behind the school. He kept glancing back, as if he was afraid I’d bolt. I clutched my empty stomach. “Hey!” Leo turned. “What? We’re almost there. You’re not backing out, are you?” “No,” I said. “But I’m hungry.” He blinked, then let out an annoyed sigh. “So? What do you want me to do about it?” “I want to eat.” He was impatient, eager to get this over with, but the thought of winning his bet was too tempting. He weighed his options for a few seconds. “Fine. We eat first.” I ordered a plate of fried rice from a greasy spoon diner. Leo paid. The place was cheap and grimy, and he clearly couldn’t bring himself to eat. He just sat there, arms crossed, watching me devour my food. “Christ, Claire,” he said, a look of disgust on his face. “Are you a starving refugee or something?” I ignored him completely. I couldn’t remember the precise feeling of being eighteen and hungry, but I remembered Melissa’s cruelty with perfect clarity. That beautiful woman had slithered into our lives like a disease, bringing her daughter with her and infecting my father. And just like that, I became the family charity case. Melissa had a chilling talent for calculating the bare minimum a person needed to survive. The allowance she gave me was just enough for a couple of bread rolls. Enough to keep me from dying, but not enough to stop the constant, grinding misery of hunger. It drained my energy, made it impossible to focus on my studies. If I couldn’t get into a good college, I wouldn’t be a drain on the family’s resources. All of it would go to her precious daughter. I finally put down my fork, a wave of satisfaction washing over me. “Finished?” Leo stood up. “Let’s go, then.” I reached out and grabbed his arm. He froze. His entire body went rigid, and the heat radiating from his skin could have cooked an egg. Ah, teenage hormones. So damn hot. But his eyes were even hotter. “Claire.” He looked down at me, his voice a low, rough rasp. “You need money, right?” I just smiled. What a stupid question. Of course I needed money. That was the whole point of this, wasn’t it? “Come on,” he urged, his voice dropping lower. “To the woods.” I shook my head slowly. My hand slid up his arm, and I closed the distance between us until our bodies were pressed together. “…How about a motel?” I whispered, my lips brushing against his ear. In the dim light of the alley, the glowing neon of the ‘MOTEL’ sign seemed to pulse with a life of its own. Leo swallowed hard. 3 The moment the motel room door clicked shut, Leo’s breathing grew heavy and ragged. He lunged, pinning me against the door, but then he hesitated, reining himself in. Right. He was eighteen. All instinct and no experience. He was a bundle of agitated nerves, but he didn’t know what to do next. “Wanna shower first?” I asked, my voice calm. “You or me?” He snapped back to reality, staring at me with suspicion. He was probably wondering how I could be so composed, so familiar with a scene like this. “You first, then,” I said. He shot me a look of contempt and tossed his backpack at me. “I’ll be quick.” “Take your time,” I said sweetly. The second the bathroom door closed, I unzipped his bag and pulled out the camera. Then, I picked up the motel’s landline and dialed. The number was for a woman I’d seen loitering by the salon downstairs, bored and smoking a cigarette. Her number was taped to the glass door. I have a photographic memory. The call connected. I gave her the room number, hung up, and then went for his wallet. A thick wad of cash. Leo was a rich kid. His father owned the biggest supermarket chain in the county and spoiled him rotten, mostly with money. He had a lot of it. I only took half. The other half would be his payment for services rendered. A moment later, the doorbell rang. Perfect timing. Leo was just stepping out of the bathroom. He emerged, wrapped in a towel. “Why are the lights off?” Silence. The dim lamp by the bed cast long shadows, illuminating a large, human-shaped lump under the covers. Leo’s breathing hitched, his voice trembling when he called out my name. “Claire?” He crept toward the bed, his back a pale, lean line in the half-light. I watched, a predatory smile playing on my lips. His ragged breaths were the only sound in the dark room. He reached out, his hand shaking, and pulled back the covers. A pair of soft, unfamiliar arms snaked around his neck. Leo tumbled onto the bed, a tangle of limbs with the woman I’d called. That’s when I flipped on the main light. CLICK. I took the picture. Leo’s eyes went wide. He was completely, utterly stunned. The woman from downstairs started yelling at me. “What the hell is this? This isn’t what we agreed on!” I held up a hand to quiet her, then dangled the camera in front of Leo, a triumphant grin on my face. The shock finally wore off, replaced by a wave of pure fury. “Claire!” he roared. “That photo just cost you a thousand bucks,” I said, tossing his wallet onto the bed. “I already took my share. The rest is for her. You can settle up.” I turned to the woman. “Get your payment from him.” Then, I slung my backpack over my shoulder and walked out without a backward glance. Leo scrambled off the bed, trying to come after me. “Stop!” he bellowed, his voice cracking with rage. “Claire, you fucking bitch, you set me up! You can’t just run off!” The woman grabbed him. “Where do you think you’re going? Pay me first!” “Let go of me!” “Not until you pay up!” A dog-eat-dog world. I slammed the door shut behind me, leaving them to it. He deserved it. 4 My first time at eighteen was a miserable existence. I was too young, too naive. A teenage girl with no other way to make money, my body was my only asset. That deal with Leo had bought me a week’s worth of food. It had also cost me my name. The image of my half-naked body was passed around, a permanent trophy in the phones of every boy in my grade. Slips of paper would appear in my desk, cruel, taunting notes asking for my price. Is twenty not enough? How about thirty? Can I just look, no touching? The girls, meanwhile, treated me like a leper. They’d hold their noses when they passed my desk, exchanging knowing, contemptuous looks. My life went from one level of hell to the next. No one laid a hand on me. No one yelled at me. But I was flayed alive by their silent judgment, a thousand times a day. I wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. This time, at twenty-eight, I knew how to play the game. And Leo deserved everything he got. Humming a little tune, I walked home. One thousand dollars. It was enough to get me through the next six months. Enough to get me to the SATs, and then far, far away from this town. 5 Leo was late for school the next day. He looked like a wilted vegetable, all the life drained out of him. I’d heard his parents had been called. The woman from the motel told me everything. Leo had refused to pay her, and they’d caused such a scene that the manager, fearing a bigger incident, had found his student ID and called the school. The school, in turn, called his father. His dad ended up footing the bill. What a foolish boy, letting his pride get the best of him. All he had to do was pay the woman. I couldn’t help but smirk. Leo saw it. The look he gave me was murderous. I turned away with a soft “Hah.” He looked ready to pounce. One of his friends, oblivious, sidled up to him. “Hey, Leo. So, how’d it go last night? Did you score?” Leo finally had an outlet for his rage. “Score your mom!” The friend recoiled. “Whoa, man, what’s your problem?” “Get lost!” Leo roared, kicking over a nearby desk with a violent crash. A wave of shocked gasps filled the room. I didn’t turn around. I just kept twirling my pen, calmly circling key points in my new review book. This was just a small lesson. I had no intention of being called “Twenty Bucks” ever again. Ten years from now, that nickname would have no power over me. The twenty-eight-year-old me was a fortress, immune to the petty wounds of adolescence. I had smoothed over all the rough edges of my past. But not now. Not yet. The eighteen-year-old Claire still cared. 6 After school, Leo cornered me again. This time, I didn’t waste any time on pleasantries. I just raised an eyebrow. “Move, or I start screaming.” “Go ahead and scream!” he sneered, a twisted grin on his face. “Claire, you screwed me over. This isn’t finished.” I tilted my head, a mocking smile on my lips. “What are you going to do? Take me back to the motel?” “…” The color drained from his face, then rushed back in a wave of humiliation. He opened his mouth, then closed it, finally spitting out a single, crude word. “Bitch.” I pulled out the camera. “Give that back!” he snarled. “Who’s a bitch?” I asked sweetly. “…” He was so furious he was speechless, his chest heaving, his face crimson. It was almost funny. Leo just didn’t have thick enough skin. A different kind of guy would have treated that photo as a badge of honor, proof of his manhood. But there’s no sport in bullying the weak. I tossed the camera to him. “Here. You can have it.” He snatched it out of the air and immediately started fumbling with the controls, probably deleting the photo. When he was done, he looked up, his eyes narrowed. “Did you make a copy?” “What do you think?” It was my only leverage. Of course I had a copy. He gritted his teeth. “What do you want?” I beckoned him closer with a single finger. My eighteen-year-old face held the cold, merciless soul of my twenty-eight-year-old self. I let my fangs show and hissed one word at him. “Disappear.” I wanted nothing more to do with him. I had bigger problems to deal with. My stepmother. My stepsister. They were the real obstacles in my path. I needed to save my energy for them. They had already ruined my life once. I wouldn’t let it happen a second time. And Leo? He was just a footnote. 7 I stopped wolfing down my food at dinner. Melissa noticed the change almost immediately. Before, dinner was the only real meal I got all day, and I ate like I was trying to choke myself. But now that I was eating three meals a day, I could be more composed. Melissa started watching me, her eyes filled with suspicion. But she had no proof. She searched my room, turning over my backpack, my pillow, my mattress… but she found nothing. I’d already stashed the thousand dollars under her own daughter’s bed. A place she would never think to look. “Don’t get too comfortable,” Amber, my stepsister, said with a smug smile. “You can’t hide it forever. My mom will figure you out.” She spoke with absolute certainty. “We know you got money from somewhere, Claire.” I kept my head down, pretending to read, pretending I couldn’t hear her. Amber sat on her bed, her voice dripping with condescending advice. “Why bother studying so hard? Even if you get into a good college, my mom will never let you go.” I finally looked up at her. “Don’t waste your energy,” she said. Her face wore that familiar, lofty expression of mockery, laughing at my futile efforts, knowing she could sever my lifeline and crush my dreams without lifting a finger. “This is my house,” I said, my voice low and steady. Amber was taken aback, clearly not expecting me to talk back. But she recovered quickly, her lips curling into a soft smile. “And?” She leaned forward. “Claire, sooner or later, I’m going to throw you out of it.” I stared at her, my gaze as cold as ice. “Want to bet?” she challenged. “Let’s see whose house this really is.” As if on cue, the door swung open. My father stood there. “Brought you girls a late-night snack,” he announced, holding up a small bag. “Sesame balls. Amber, share them with Claire.” “Okay!” Amber chirped, taking the bag from his hand and beaming up at him. “Thanks, Dad.” My father ruffled her hair, then his gaze fell on me. “Still studying? Don’t stay up too late.” “I know,” I replied. The door closed. Amber took a bite of a sesame ball and held it out. “Want one?” Before I could answer, she laughed. “Oh, right. I forgot. You’re allergic to sesame.” She looked so damn pleased with herself. 8 I soon found out what Amber meant by her mother’s “methods.” On Monday morning, during our homeroom meeting, Melissa burst into the classroom. She marched right up to me, her voice ringing with righteous indignation. “Claire, why did you steal money from the house? What kind of shameful things are you spending it on?” “You can’t be doing bad things, Claire,” she cried, her voice thick with fake anguish. “If you need something, just ask me! I’ll buy it for you! But you can’t steal!” Every eye in the room was on me. My face was a cold mask. “I didn’t take anything.” “I don’t believe you!” Melissa started ransacking my desk, sweeping everything onto the floor in a clattering mess. “Fine, deny it all you want. When I find the money, let’s see what you have to say for yourself!” I understood then. She thought I’d hidden the money at school. But she found nothing. Our teacher, Mr. Harrison, finally recovered from his shock and stepped in. “Mrs. Miller, please, let’s discuss this in my office. We shouldn’t disrupt the class.” He gestured for us to follow. “Come, let’s go to my office. Claire, you too.” In the office, Melissa put on a spectacular show, sobbing as if her heart was breaking. “Mr. Harrison, I’m at my wit’s end. I would never have come to the school if I had any other choice.” “It’s just… Claire is so disobedient.” “What exactly happened?” Mr. Harrison asked. “Five hundred dollars is missing from my wallet. Claire was the only one who went into my room.” Mr. Harrison looked at me. “Claire?” “I didn’t take it,” I said flatly. “I’m not the only other person in the house.” “Are you trying to blame Amber?” Melissa shrieked. “Claire, Amber is my daughter! I’ve watched her grow up, I know her character. She would never do something like that.” I let out a short, bitter laugh. “Are you sure?” My laugh seemed to ignite her rage. A venomous glint appeared in her eyes, though her voice remained pitiful. “Claire, I know your mother died when you were young, and your father is often away. You’re starved for attention, I understand. But no matter how much you need money, you cannot steal. What would your mother think?” My expression hardened instantly. She had no right to mention my mother. My kind, beautiful mother, who was worth more than Melissa’s entire being. I stood up straight. “If my mother knew you were framing me like this, she’d climb out of her grave and tear you to pieces, you bitch.” The office fell silent. Mr. Harrison stared at me, shocked that such a word could come from his usually quiet, well-behaved student. Melissa completely lost it, lunging at me. “Calm down, Mrs. Miller, please!” Mr. Harrison blocked her, then turned to me, his voice stern. “Claire, apologize. Now.” Apologize? To her? Not in a million years. “Disgusting,” I muttered. The office dissolved into chaos. I just turned and walked out. Leo was leaning against the wall outside. I walked past him, giving him a sideways glance but not breaking my stride. “Claire,” he called after me. “The money for your review books was from me, wasn’t it? Why didn’t you tell them?” I turned back. His eyes were filled with pity. He was pitying me. I didn’t want it. “None of your damn business,” I said. The look on his face was priceless, a kaleidoscope of shock and offense. 9 When I got home that night, my bed was a disaster. Melissa had given it a bath. The mattress and blankets were a sodden, disgusting heap on the floor. Amber was gloating. “You dared to curse at my mom. This is just a warning, Claire. Dad’s out of town for a week. Let’s see who you’re going to run crying to now.” I paid her no mind. Even if my father were home, I wouldn’t tell him. He wouldn’t believe me anyway. When I told him I was always hungry, he asked Melissa about it. She explained it was for my own good. “Teenage girls put on weight so easily, and it’s hard to lose it.” “Claire is so pretty, it would be a shame if she got fat. Look at Amber, I don’t let her eat too much either.” And my father believed her. Then there was my period. I had no money for pads, so I’d fold layers of toilet paper, but the blood would always soak through to my pants. I washed them by hand every single day. Melissa would ask, in her concerned voice, “Does Claire have some sort of cleanliness obsession?” My father, confused, would ask, “What’s going on?” My hands would be submerged in soapy water as I stared at Melissa. She was so confident, so sure that I would never be able to speak to a man—even my own father—about the needs of my body. So I became the girl with the obsession. Picky, silent, and increasingly strange. They dismantled me piece by piece. And all I could do was endure it. I saved every penny I could, enduring the hunger so I could afford the pads I desperately needed. My body seemed to mock me; despite being malnourished, my period was always heavy, always on time. The irony was not lost on me.

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I was folding his laundry when he spoke, his voice casual. “You know, sometimes, you’re just… cheap.” My hands froze mid-fold. Before I could form a reply, he plowed on. “Don’t get me wrong, you love me, I know you do. You’re responsible, you take good care of me, of the house. But you just can’t compare to Helen.” He sighed, a sound of profound disappointment. “Anyone could do what you do. It’s nothing special. It’s not like what I have with Helen.” My mind flashed back a month ago, to when his ex-girlfriend had invited him to a concert. I’d told her he wasn’t going. He was still holding it against me. I dropped the shirt I was holding and turned to leave the room. The irony was suffocating. Just this morning, my boss had offered me a position at our overseas division. A huge promotion. I had turned it down. For him. But now, as I was finally ready to walk away, to give his precious Helen the space she so clearly wanted… Why would he end up crying, begging me to come back? 1 I threw the half-folded laundry onto the bed. Ethan didn’t move from his chair, just watched me walk to the door. “What, was I wrong?” he challenged. “There’s another show tonight, isn’t there?” I said, my hand gripping the cool metal of the doorknob. “Is that what this is about? All this passive-aggressive bullshit? Go. I don’t care.” He’d never heard me talk back to him like that. A slow, incredulous smile spread across his face. “You really think you can stop me?” “Do whatever you want.” “Amelia!” he snapped, his voice sharp. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? Was anything I said untrue? Will you be happy if you force me to go?” “I told you,” I said, my voice flat. “Do. Whatever. You. Want.” I pulled the door shut behind me. A few steps down the hall, I heard the satisfying crash of a glass shattering against a wall. I sat in a Starbucks, stirring a latte I couldn’t afford, scrolling through my phone for Ms. Davenport’s number. For years, I’d been pinching every penny for the down payment on our first home. The most expensive drink I ever bought myself was a slushie from the corner store. This Starbucks… it wasn’t as magical as I’d imagined. But the feeling? The freedom? That was priceless. Ms. Davenport answered on the second ring. I didn’t waste any time. “Ms. Davenport, that offer for the overseas division… is it still on the table?” There was a pause on the other end. Then, a warm laugh. “It’s yours if you want it, Amelia.” “I want it!” “And your wedding plans with your boyfriend…?” “We broke up,” I said, the words tasting like liberation. There was no sympathy, no awkward condolences. Instead, she actually snorted. “Good. It’s about time you came to your senses.” For six years, everyone in my life had gently, and not-so-gently, reminded me that my career had far more potential than my relationship. That I shouldn’t have to put my life on hold while Ethan got his feet back on the ground after his failed startup. But I couldn’t bear to leave him when he was at his lowest. I stayed. The hilarious part? His ex, Helen, was the one who had dumped him back then because he was broke, running off with some rich kid she met in Europe. Now that Ethan was successful, she was back, sniffing around for a second chance without, of course, giving up her lavish lifestyle. My phone buzzed. A new Instagram story from Helen. It was a picture of her and Ethan, their faces projected onto the giant screen above the concert stage. They were nestled close, their hands forming a heart for the camera. The entire arena could see them. No one would doubt for a second that they were a couple. The caption read: After all this time, the right person is still waiting right where you left them. And right below it, a single “like” from Ethan. I took a screenshot and fired it off to my best friend. I can’t deal with these two psychos. A question mark came back instantly, followed by a screenshot of Helen’s empty profile. My friend couldn’t see the story. I checked with a few other people. Same thing. Helen had set the story’s privacy so only certain people could see it. No, not people. Just one person. Me. A cold smile touched my lips. I blocked her number and deleted her contact. 2 By the time I left Ms. Davenport’s office with the signed contract in my hand, most of my anger had dissipated, replaced by a thrilling sense of purpose. I was scheduled to fly out in a week, and I had no intention of spending another minute playing maid for Ethan. But when I got back to our apartment to pack, I found it already occupied. The place was a disaster. Helen stood in the middle of the kitchen, holding a plate of blackened, incinerated chicken wings. “Oops,” she chirped, looking at Ethan. “Is it okay that I made such a mess, sweetie?” Ethan, a notorious neat freak, just shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. Amelia will clean it up.” “I feel so bad,” Helen pouted. “I’m just useless at housework…” “Hey, don’t say that,” he cooed. “This kind of stuff isn’t for you, anyway.” I walked straight past them, heading for the bedroom to grab my suitcase. Ethan stared, stunned into silence for a moment. Helen put down the plate of charred remains and followed me. “Amelia, I— ah!” I shoved her out of my way. It wasn’t hard, but she reacted as if I’d hit her with a battering ram, stumbling dramatically and collapsing onto the floor. “Helen!” Ethan rushed to her side, helping her up. He glared at me. “Amelia, she’s my guest! If you’re going to be angry, be angry with me!” My fists clenched. Ignoring them, I started yanking my things out of the closet, tossing miscellaneous junk onto the floor. A folder slid out from a shelf and fluttered to the ground, landing right at Helen’s feet. She picked it up. Her eyes scanned the top page. Her face crumpled, and her eyes welled up with tears. She dropped the folder as if it were on fire and spun around to leave. “Helen, wait!” Ethan grabbed her arm. She struggled, her voice choked with sobs. “Let me go! You two are already engaged!” I glanced down. It was the paperwork for our engagement party venue. 3 Ethan held onto Helen’s wrist, but despite her tearful performance, she wasn’t actually trying very hard to get away. “Amelia,” Ethan said, his voice tight with frustration as he struggled to hold onto her. He shot me a furious look. “Apologize.” I stared at him. “For what?” “If you hadn’t pushed this whole engagement thing, she wouldn’t be this hurt right now! You pretended to be cleaning out your closet, but you just wanted her to see this, didn’t you?” A harsh, bitter laugh escaped my lips. “Ethan, I never realized how stupid you could be.” He blinked, taken aback. I turned my attention to Helen. “Let me get this straight. You couldn’t tell we lived together? You didn’t know we were a couple? If that’s the case, why were you calling me his ‘sister-in-law’ earlier? You knew everything. So who is this little ‘I’m the innocent, heartbroken victim’ act for?” Her eyes reddened further. She made another show of trying to leave, and Ethan tightened his grip. “Amelia! That’s enough!” I ignored him and went back to packing. Helen’s voice rose in a dramatic wail. “Don’t stop me! She already misunderstands everything! You’re engaged! I never should have come here!” “Amelia!” Ethan snapped, his grip on Helen unwavering as he glared at me. “Apologize. Now.” My hands balled into fists so tight my knuckles were white. “No.” “Are you sure about that?” My chin jutted out. “I’m sure.” Ethan stared at me for a few long seconds, his jaw tight. Then, he bent down and picked up the engagement papers. “See? This is why you’ll never be as good as Helen,” he said, his voice dripping with contempt. “All you know how to do is play these petty, jealous games. It’s so obvious you’ve never been out of the country. Your worldview is pathetic compared to hers.” With that, he ripped the folder in half. “Since you won’t apologize, I guess this engagement is off. You can keep this worthless piece of paper for all I care.” He tore it again, and again, until the documents were nothing but confetti in his hand. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he flung the scraps into my face. He didn’t look back. He just grabbed Helen’s hand and walked out. I snatched our framed photo from the nightstand and slammed it onto the floor. A spiderweb of cracks fractured the glass, splitting our smiling faces apart. I kicked it across the room until it slid to a stop next to the trash can. 4 Three days passed. Not a word from Ethan. We used to talk every single day. Our Snap streak was over two thousand days long. Though, if I was being honest, I was the one who started the conversation for more than half of those days. In just three days, the little flame icon vanished. I was in my hotel room, finalizing handover documents for my old job, when his name flashed on my screen. It was the first time he’d called. “You’re not home?” he asked, his voice flat. “Do you need something?” I replied, not looking up from my laptop. A picture message came through. It was our apartment. The trash was overflowing. There were dirty dishes in the sink, caked with dried food. A pile of his wrinkled shirts lay in a heap on the bed. You’ve had your fun. It’s time to come home now, his text read. The apartment is a mess. You should show a little more concern. “What about Helen?” I typed back. Helen tries to help, but she’s not good at this stuff. She’s used to a certain lifestyle, Amelia. She didn’t come back here to do chores. I didn’t have time for this. You’re a successful man, Ethan. Hire a maid. He was silent for a moment. Then, another text. Even the best maid isn’t as thoughtful as you. Helen has high standards. They just don’t measure up. You’re insane, I wrote, and then hung up. He called back immediately. I blocked his number. A minute later, I got a notification from my bank. The joint credit card had been frozen. It was the card Ethan had given me. After his startup failed, I was the one who supported him, encouraged him, and took care of everything at home so he could rebuild. I turned down promotion after promotion to be his stable foundation. In six years, he became the respected CEO everyone looked up to, while I remained a junior associate. The card was supposed to be his way of thanking me, of providing for me. In reality, most of the money went to household expenses. He was freezing it to force me to come crawling back. I had never been more grateful for Ms. Davenport. A separate notification glowed on my screen: a direct deposit from the company. My promotion bonus. I didn’t need his money anymore. The next day, I was at Starbucks putting the final touches on my paperwork when I saw them. Ethan and Helen. I stood up to leave, but Helen spotted me and walked right over, a sickly sweet smile on her face. I couldn’t understand how she had the audacity to approach me after I had made my disgust so clear. In the clumsy shuffle as I tried to get past her, my folder of documents slipped from my hand, scattering papers across the floor. She bent down, her eyes widening as she read the top page. “A transfer letter?” she gasped. “Sister… you’re going to the overseas division!” 5 I snatched the papers from her hand. Ethan was staring at me, his expression a mixture of shock and disbelief. “You’re… leaving?” Helen’s eyes filled with tears instantly. “Sister, did you do this because you knew I wanted to apply for that division? Are you trying to show me up?” I was speechless. Helen started swaying, her hand flying to her forehead as if she were about to faint. She stumbled, collapsing into Ethan’s arms. He held her, his brow furrowed in disapproval as he looked at me. “Amelia, is this what this is about? You see that Helen has international experience, so now you want to copy her? That division was her dream! What do you think you’re doing, applying at the same time?” “This transfer is being revoked!” he declared. I clutched the letter to my chest. “No, it’s not.” “Ethan,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “I’m curious. It’s her dream, so she’s allowed to go. But I want it, so I can’t? What’s the matter? Are you afraid to let her go?” He hesitated. “I can’t hold her back… She didn’t come back to be tied down by me. I can visit her. I will always respect her freedom.” A knot tightened in my chest. “So you weren’t angry when she abandoned you all those years ago?” Ethan closed his eyes for a moment. “She had her reasons. It wasn’t fair to ask her to struggle with me. Amelia, these overseas opportunities are rare. Be good. Withdraw your application. I’ll pull some strings and get you a better job here. Just stop competing with Helen over everything.” Crack. The sound of my hand hitting his cheek echoed through the quiet coffee shop. Helen shrieked and threw herself between us. “Sister! Don’t take it out on him!” she cried, grabbing my arm, tears streaming down her face. “I won’t go, okay? Please don’t fight with him because of me, I—” Crack. Another slap, this time across her face. Her words died in her throat. “What are you two yapping about?” I asked, my voice cold as I carefully placed the transfer letter back in my folder. Ethan pulled Helen behind him, shielding her. “You’re crazy!” he yelled. I gave them both a look that could freeze fire. “I’m leaving. That was my decision. Nothing either of you says will change that.” Then, my eyes landed on Helen. “And don’t you ever pull that pathetic act in front of me again. It’s embarrassing.” Without another word, I turned and strode out of the Starbucks, leaving them in a stunned silence amidst the shocked stares of the other customers. I could feel Ethan’s gaze on my back, a new, unfamiliar look of surprise in his eyes. He gritted his teeth. 6 I was on my way to drop off the last of my files, stopped at a red light on a deserted stretch of road, when a car slammed into me from behind. I stomped on the brake, but the car behind me didn’t stop. It accelerated. I laid on the horn, a frantic, useless blare as the force pushed my car forward. The impacts kept coming, one after another, until my car was violently shoved into a concrete retaining wall. The world spun. Half my body was thrown out the open window, my chest crushed between the deployed airbag and the driver’s seat. I couldn’t breathe. This area was desolate. There was no one around to see. My phone was gone, flung somewhere into the wreckage. The door of the other car finally opened. Helen emerged, teetering on high heels. With tears already streaming down her face, she made a phone call. A few minutes later, Ethan’s car screeched to a halt nearby. “Ethan! Help me!” I managed to gasp, the pain in my ribs blinding. “Ethan, honey! Over here!” Helen cried from where she was now sitting on the pavement, clutching her ankle and shivering. Ethan’s eyes darted between me, covered in blood and struggling for air, and Helen, with a minor scrape on her ankle. He clenched his jaw, and then walked right past me to scoop Helen into his arms. “Ethan!” I screamed, using the last of the oxygen in my lungs. “Help me first! Just… call 911! I can’t… I can’t breathe…” “Stop being so dramatic,” he snapped, his voice laced with annoyance. “It won’t take me long to get her to the hospital. I’ll send an ambulance back for you. Can’t you stop competing with her for one second? Can’t you see how much danger she’s in?” “Ethan, I—” But he was already gone, placing Helen gently in his car. My pleas were lost in the dust kicked up by his tires as he sped away. I don’t remember passing out. I don’t remember who found me or called the police. I woke up in a hospital. Thanks to a passerby, I had received treatment in time. My injuries were serious, but not life-threatening. The first thing I did was file a police report. I found out which room Helen was in. The license plate from the scene matched her car, and the police immediately opened an investigation. But when they questioned her, Helen just wept. “I’m so sorry… sister. I don’t know what happened… I… I was having an episode.” “An ‘episode’ gives you the right to kill someone?” I screamed, slamming my hand on the table. “Do you have any idea how close I was to dying?” “That’s enough!” Ethan shoved me back. “She has depression! Stop harassing her!” “Depression?” I frowned. Of course, a psychiatric evaluation report was promptly shoved in my face. “She was in the middle of a depressive episode! Do you have any idea how much she suffers?” he roared. I took the report, and a bitter laugh escaped my lips. “You can buy one of these from any shady clinic for the right price. What kind of ‘depressive episode’ allows someone to so precisely find a spot with no cameras and keep their foot floored on the accelerator? This wasn’t an episode, it was attempted murder!” “Why can’t you just leave a sick person alone? Does she have to die before you believe she’s ill?” Ignoring Ethan’s fury, I grabbed the front of Helen’s hospital gown. “Fine. Let’s have the police doctors determine if she’s really sick.” “Ahh! No!” Helen started trembling violently. I had barely touched her, but she flinched back as if I’d struck her, stumbling and crashing into a medical cart. The equipment clattered to the floor, and a sharp edge sliced her arm. Police officers rushed into the room. Ethan’s jaw was tight with rage. “Officer, I’d like to report Ms. Amelia Vance for assault and disorderly conduct!” Soon after, Helen had a new psychiatric evaluation. This one was stamped and signed by a reputable doctor. When Ethan personally handed the report to the authorities, I saw the doctor’s signature. It belonged to one of Ethan’s business partners. “Ethan, I’m the victim here!” I cried, my voice raw. He instinctively moved to shield a cowering Helen. “Alright. According to the public security laws, you’ll be held in a detention center for a while. I’ll come get you in fifteen days.” Over his shoulder, I saw a triumphant smirk flash across Helen’s face. And then I understood. All of it. It was her plan from the start. My flight was in two days. Fifteen days in jail, and I would miss the deadline for my overseas transfer. My position was a one-off opportunity. If I didn’t show, Ethan could easily use his influence to get Helen the job instead. And she, thanks to her “mental health issues,” would walk away without facing any legal consequences. “Ethan, you can’t do this to me! You’re fabricating evidence!” Helen’s eyes welled with tears again. “Sister, do I really have to die before you’ll believe me?” With a dramatic cry, she lunged toward the wall, ready to smash her head against it. Ethan shot out a hand, cushioning the impact between his palm and the wall. Slap! His other hand struck my face, his eyes blazing with fury. “Don’t you have a heart?” “Ethan!” I screamed, trying to lunge at them, but the police, alerted by the commotion, quickly intervened and separated us. “Ma’am, if you continue, your detention will only be longer,” one of the officers warned. I could only stand there, teeth gritted, as I watched Ethan gently lead Helen away. His last words echoed in my ears. “I’ll come for you in fifteen days.” All hope drained out of me. My one chance. My escape. It was gone. I spent two days in a numb haze in the holding cell. They had taken my phone. Ms. Davenport had no idea what had happened. In a few hours, when she couldn’t reach me, she would probably leave without me… I felt a pang of guilt. She had tried to promote me so many times, and when I finally accepted, I ended up standing her up. “Amelia Vance?” A police officer was at my cell door. “Come on. Someone’s posted your bail.”

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