Category: English

Three years. That’s how long it had been. Stepping off the plane at JFK, the crisp New York air was a shock to the system. The first thing I did was call Leo. Then I called him again. And again. A dozen calls, each one swallowed by the dead air of his voicemail. Then, something impossible happened. Shimmering, translucent text began to scroll across my vision, like a glitch in reality itself. 【Oh, hell no. The villainess is back early. This is going to derail everything.】 【The timing couldn’t be worse. Chloe just had the baby. Leo needs to be focused on winning her back, not dealing with this obsessive ex.】 【Don’t worry, it’s part of the plan. He’s going to trick her into finding the baby and raising it as her own. She’s about to become the world’s most bitter nanny.】 I blinked, shaking my head as if to clear it. Just then, my phone buzzed to life. Leo. “Stella,” he said, his voice rushed, clipped. “Something’s come up. I’m at the old lodge upstate. Just meet me there tonight.” 【Here we go. The setup. The lodge is completely deserted. She’ll have no choice but to take the baby.】 Before I could reply, the line went dead. In that split second of silence, I could have sworn I heard the soft sigh of a woman in the background. My knuckles turned white on the steering wheel of the rental. For a long moment, I stared at the GPS, its cheerful line pointing me north toward the Catskills. Then, with a decisive twist, I spun the car around and merged onto the highway, heading in the exact opposite direction. 1 【Wait… what? She’s not going?】 【That’s not right. She’s his lapdog. He says jump, she asks how high. Why isn’t she obeying?】 【What about the baby?! Is she just going to let it die? A newborn, left alone in that empty lodge… it’ll freeze to death!】 Fat, heavy snowflakes began to drift down, blanketing the world in white. I watched the frantic text scroll past my eyes, my heart a cold, hard knot in my chest. So, that was it. I was the designated villain in some twisted romance novel. The plot, as laid out by my phantom commentators, was sickeningly simple. Leo, my Leo, gets drugged at a business meeting and has a one-night stand with a doe-eyed waitress, Chloe. She, of course, gets pregnant and vanishes. What follows is a dramatic cat-and-mouse game. He pursues her, she flees, their passion reignited with every clandestine meeting. Once the child is born, there’s just one inconvenient obstacle: me. His fiancée. So, he concocts a plan to leave the baby on a remote doorstep for me to find, saddling me with his illegitimate child. In this story, we would marry, but he would vow never to touch me, remaining faithful to his one true love. I would live out my days as a barren wife, pouring all my love into a child that wasn’t mine. A son who would grow up to despise me. The ghostly text had shown me the finale: me, paralyzed by a sudden illness, helpless in my bed. My adopted son, the boy I raised, would be the one to poison me slowly, torturing me until my last breath. His revenge for the crime of standing between his parents. After my death, Leo and Chloe would finally unite their perfect family. Chloe, the story’s benevolent heroine, would look at my portrait with pity, forgiving me for “hoarding” her husband and child, and wishing that in my next life, I would be reborn as a beast of burden to atone for my sins. My hands trembled on the wheel, not with sorrow, but with a white-hot rage. I had defied my family for him. Turned my back on a strategic marriage alliance to sponsor a brilliant, destitute student I’d met in the city. When I found Leo, he was half-dead in an alley, beaten bloody by loan sharks. I paid for his recovery. I settled his family’s debts. I funded his mother’s life-saving surgery. I remember him looking up at me, his eyes wet with devotion. “Stella,” he’d whispered, “I’m yours for life.” When my own parents fell ill and I had to move overseas to manage the family’s international affairs, he held my hands, his gaze earnest and true. “Go take care of them, Stella. I’ll be here. This will always be your home. When you come back, we’ll get married.” I handed him the keys to my domestic operations, my entire portfolio of companies. I leveraged my connections abroad to secure him funding, to build his name. In three short years, he had become a titan of industry. And the first thing he did with that power was become the protagonist of a trashy novel—cheating, fathering a child, and plotting to ruin my life to complete his perfect little family. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. All those years of love, of support, of sacrifice… to him, they were just chains he was desperate to break. Fine, Leo. You want your freedom? You can have it. The Uber turned through the gates of my estate on Long Island. I hadn’t been back in years, but even in the dead of night, the place was ablaze with light. My father had commissioned it for me, a masterpiece of modern architecture completed just before the New Year. This was the first chance I’d had to see it. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the grand hall, I saw the custom-made, eight-hundred-thousand-dollar crystal chandelier I’d designed, its light scattered like a captured galaxy. Ornate decorations draped from the vaulted ceiling, all centered on a massive birthday portrait. The girl in the photo, beaming like a princess, was not me. 【Chloe’s birthday party is stunning! So magical.】 【I heard Leo spent a fortune on this, flew in the world’s best chefs!】 【Forget the chefs, he’s giving her this entire estate! Talk about devoted…】 My estate. He was giving my estate to his mistress. Leo, you audacious bastard. There she was, Chloe, standing at the entrance like she owned the place. She was wearing one of my couture gowns and, around her neck, the emerald necklace that had belonged to my grandmother. “What is this? Do you know where you are?” she sneered, her eyes raking over the simple black car I’d arrived in. “You probably can’t even afford to replace the grass you’re standing on. Security! Get this trash out of here.” Her friends giggled, pointing at my Uber. I had told Leo I’d arrange my own transport, never imagining he’d stand me up so completely. To them, I was just some hired driver, an insect to be flicked away. I walked forward, my steps silent on the heated stone. Before she could react, I snatched the necklace from her throat and struck her across the face. The sound of the slap was sharp, clean, and utterly satisfying. “The only one getting out,” I said, my voice dangerously calm, “is you.” Chloe stared, her hand flying to her reddening cheek. The shimmering text in the air went haywire. 【HOLY SHIT! The villain just snapped! She hit the heroine at her own birthday party!】 【Where are the bodyguards?! Throw her out!】 【Uh… guys? Isn’t this technically… her house?】 That last comment was lost in the flood. Chloe let out a piercing shriek. Her friends swarmed around her, one of them pointing a trembling finger at me. “Do you have any idea who she is? How dare you touch her!” I just smiled, weighing the heavy emerald in my palm. The friend grew bolder. “You couldn’t afford a single stone in that necklace if you sold your pathetic life! Get on your knees and apologize to Chloe right now!” “What’s going on here?!” A figure burst through the doorway, shaking snow from his designer coat as he rushed to Chloe’s side, pulling her into a protective embrace. It was Leo. My boyfriend of three years, who I hadn’t laid eyes on until this very moment. He looked from Chloe’s tear-streaked face to me, and the anger in his eyes morphed into stunned disbelief. “Stella? What are you doing here?” At the sound of my name, Chloe stiffened. She gripped Leo’s arm, and they exchanged a look—a flicker of shared conspiracy. So, the little ingenue knew exactly who I was. How cold-blooded do you have to be to plan on handing your own child over to the woman you’re betraying? A security guard approached nervously. “Mr. Blackwood, do you know this woman?” Leo nodded, his eyes darting past me, scanning the car I’d arrived in. I knew what he was looking for. Chloe, ever the performer, composed herself. “It’s alright,” she announced to the crowd, her voice trembling gracefully. “She’s… an old neighbor of Leo’s. She’s always been a little obsessed with him. I heard she just got dumped. It must have unhinged her.” A wave of understanding rippled through the guests. Their expressions shifted from confusion to contempt. “A stalker? How pathetic.” “Chloe is too kind, honestly. Being so gracious to a desperate hanger-on.” “Leo and Chloe built their success together from nothing. This woman needs to accept that she lost and crawl back into whatever hole she came from.” I let out a short, sharp laugh that cut through the murmurs. “From nothing?” I locked eyes with Leo. He flinched, looking away. He knew. Without the money I’d poured into his education, his mother’s health, his first business venture, he wouldn’t have a penny to his name. He’s be a bloody smear in a back alley. He had sworn to make something of himself, and I had handed him every resource, every connection, every opportunity to do so. Even from halfway across the world, my support had never wavered. But his guilt was fleeting. “Chloe was the one by my side these last three years,” he snarled, his voice regaining its strength. “What have you done?” My face hardened. He took a step toward my car, his voice rising for the benefit of the audience. “Look, Chloe and I aren’t cruel people. We won’t abandon you. Even if you’re coming back with a kid, we’ll help you take care of it…” His words trailed off. His bravado crumbled into confusion, then raw anxiety. He had wrenched open the front door, then the back. He even popped the trunk. There was nothing. Only my suitcase. No baby. Leo’s face went chalk-white. He spun around, grabbing my shoulders, his grip bruising. “You didn’t go to the lodge, did you?” he whispered, his voice trembling with a terrifying mix of fear and rage. The pain was sharp, and I shoved him away in disgust. “It’s a derelict building in the middle of nowhere. Why on earth would I go there on a night like this?” “I told you to go there!” he roared, his control finally shattering. “Why don’t you ever just listen! If something… if something happened, I will never forgive you!” Chloe’s eyes widened in horror. In an instant, she understood. Her face contorted into a mask of pure hatred, and she lunged at me. “You bitch! I’ll kill you!” I sidestepped her easily. Hampered by the tight gown, she tumbled down the short flight of stairs, landing in a heap. A dark stain began to spread across the pale fabric of her dress. She let out a guttural scream of pain. Leo’s head snapped toward me. He strode forward and slapped me, hard. My head rang, and a fiery pain exploded across my cheek. “If anything happens to Chloe or the baby, you’re dead,” he hissed, his face inches from mine, his eyes promising murder. He jabbed a finger at my chest, as if marking his sworn enemy. He scrambled for his phone, barking orders for an ambulance and sending his assistant racing to the lodge. I touched my tongue to the inside of my swollen cheek. It seemed a dog that won’t learn to heel must be put down. 【What’s happening? Isn’t the villain supposed to find the baby with him? Am I reading a bootleg copy?】 【OMG, their poor baby! Please be okay, please be okay! If the baby dies, that bitch deserves to burn!】 【Hold on… They’re the ones who left their own kid in the middle of nowhere and expected their rival to play babysitter. Are we sure they’re the heroes here?】 A fierce debate erupted in the shimmering text. I spat a wad of blood onto the pristine snow. Suddenly, a team of black-suited security guards swarmed me, pinning my arms behind my back. “You hurt Chloe, and now you think you can just walk away?” I struggled, trying to see who was speaking. A familiar silhouette stepped out of the light. “Julian?” I whispered. The text feed went wild. 【It’s the second male lead! The tortured one who loves the heroine from afar! He’s finally stepping up for her!】 【Yes! Get the villainess out of here! I’m ready for the love triangle drama!】 【Don’t worry, guys. The more arrogant she is now, the more pathetic she’ll be later.】 Julian? The second male lead? My parents were always working when I was young. I grew up with Julian, my father’s much younger half-brother. He was my uncle, but with only a few years between us, he was more like a best friend, a brother. I had always believed his affection was real. “You’re my guiding star, Stella,” he used to say, his eyes full of adoration. The man standing before me now, his face a mask of cold fury, was a stranger. The realization was a dull ache in my chest. He crouched in front of me, his fingers digging into my jaw, forcing my head up. His eyes widened for a second. “Stella?” Chloe, sobbing, threw herself into his arms. Seeing the blood on her dress, a wave of anguish washed over Julian’s face. He turned and kicked me hard in the stomach. “I can’t believe you’ve become this monstrous,” he snarled, his voice dripping with venom. “You want to hurt people? Let’s see how you like it.” The blow had been delivered with full force. It felt like my insides were shattering. I collapsed, coughing up a mouthful of blood. My fingers fumbled for the emerald necklace I still clutched in my hand. “Julian… do you remember this?” It was from our grandmother, the woman who had raised us both. My initials were engraved on the back. He hesitated. Chloe’s weeping intensified. “I was just borrowing it! She attacked me, she ripped it from my neck!” she cried, pointing to a scratch on her skin. Julian’s face hardened again. “It’s a thing, Stella. Grandma would never forgive you for hurting someone over a piece of metal.” Whispers erupted from the crowd. “She’s a Vance? I thought she was a stalker.” “The Stella Vance? She wouldn’t act this unhinged… would she?” “Wait, if Chloe is so worried about a baby… whose baby is it?” Someone’s voice cut through the noise. “Hang on, isn’t this the Vance estate?” Chloe’s face paled. In the next instant, she feigned a stumble, her heel coming down hard on my outstretched fingers. I cried out in pain as she let out a theatrical gasp and fell backward. Julian caught her instantly. And I watched, helpless, as her foot kicked the necklace from my grasp. It skittered across the stone and disappeared with a soft splash into the ornamental pond. “Call the police!” I screamed, scrambling to my feet. “This is my house! I want every single one of these bastards thrown out!” Hearing that I was, in fact, the lady of the house, the guards hesitated. I pulled out my phone, but Julian slapped it from my hand, sending it skittering across the floor. “Think carefully,” he hissed at the guards, his voice low and menacing. “Who holds the power at Vance Industries right now?” The ghostly text flared. 【Damn, he’s so protective! I’m officially shipping him and Chloe!】 【Too bad he’s just an adopted son. Otherwise, the villainess wouldn’t dare challenge him.】 【LOL who cares if he’s adopted? Once Stella’s dead, he’ll inherit half the Vance fortune anyway. It’ll all go to Chloe in the end!】 Of course. More than one snake in the nest. “Lock her up,” Julian commanded. “For disgracing the Vance name, she’ll be confined for forty-eight hours.” The guards looked at each other, then moved toward me. I pulled a small, folding knife from my belt—a gift from my father. “Stay back,” I warned, my voice shaking with rage and pain. “I’ll kill the first person who touches me.” They paused, wary of the desperation in my eyes. But then a blur of motion—Leo. He kicked the knife from my hand. His face was a thundercloud of grief and fury. “You killed my son,” he choked out. Chloe’s eyes fluttered open, wide with horror. “Leo… what did you say?”

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A guy from the client’s team posted a project proposal in the group chat with a major flaw. I was going to message him privately, just a friendly heads-up. I sent him a contact request. He ignored it twice. Then he changed his profile picture to a matching couple’s avatar. My assistant showed me a different group chat. The same guy was telling everyone I was hitting on him. “I thought I dropped enough hints, but she just won’t let go. She should really take a look in the mirror.” “I have a girlfriend, for God’s sake. Why is she so desperate? It’s pathetic.” “That ugly duckling must’ve had a meltdown last night. Went silent, probably too ashamed to reply, huh?” 1 The company was launching a massive, eighty-million-dollar project. Linda Mason was the official lead, but I was in the main project group to keep an eye on things. The chat was a chaotic sea of over a hundred people. The client was a young, dynamic agency called Apex Innovations. One of their project guys, Ken Kane, dropped a file in the chat. I opened it and gave it a quick scan. The unit of measurement for the material data was wrong. He’d written “kilograms” instead of “tons.” An easy fix—just move the decimal point—but a potentially catastrophic oversight. If it went unnoticed, procurement, construction, and cost analysis would all be based on that faulty number. All hell would break loose. Apex had a decent reputation; they were usually on the ball. Everyone makes mistakes. I felt a pang of sympathy and decided to give him a quiet heads-up. I found Ken Kane’s icon in the project group, tapped on it, and sent a contact request. A day passed. The request vanished into the digital ether. Linda was the public face of this project, and I didn’t want to step on her toes or disrespect her authority. That’s why I hadn’t revealed my senior role in the group chat. My display name was just my name: Monica. I tapped on Ken’s icon again and sent another request. This time, I added a note: “Work-related. Need to verify some data in the file.” Crystal clear, right? Another day went by. Still nothing. I checked his profile again, and his picture had changed. Yesterday, it was a cartoon boy holding a coffee cup. Today, it was a cutesy, chibi-style couple’s avatar. A boy and a girl in matching, ridiculously cheerful striped shirts, standing in front of a giant red heart. My stomach dropped. No, it couldn’t be… Did this guy think I was adding him to hit on him? And did he scramble to change his avatar to a couple’s one just to stake his claim? I shook my head, trying to banish the thought. That was absurd. No sane person’s mind works that way. It had to be a coincidence. He was just due for a new profile pic. My assistant, Alex, knocked and entered, a strange look on his face. “Ms. Vance…” He held out his phone, showing me a screenshot of a group chat. The group name was “Apex Spill the Tea,” clearly their agency’s private gossip channel. The conversation was buzzing. An ID named “Ken (Design God)”—with that same cartoon couple as his avatar—was lighting up the chat. “LMAO, you guys, that Monica chick from the client side just tried adding me again. This time she’s pretending it’s about ‘work-related communication.’” “Seriously, I can smell a woman’s agenda from a mile away.” “Haven’t I made it obvious enough? I put up the couple’s avatar and everything, and she’s still coming after me. How desperate can you get?” “I have a girlfriend! This is next-level pathetic. She’s so full of herself, it’s unreal!” 2 A flood of replies followed, all cheering him on. “Hahaha, Ken, you’re irresistible!” “For real, she should get a mirror.” “The ugly duckling trying to become a swan.” Alex swiped down, showing me more. “Ken’s girlfriend is a goddess. That chick can’t even compare.” “Totally! She’s gorgeous and so sweet!” “You know it,” chimed in “Ken (Design God)” again. “My girl just bought me the latest designer watch yesterday!” And then: “Some people can only drool over my profile picture, I guess. Hehe.” Alex cleared his throat awkwardly. “Ms. Vance, I’m sure he doesn’t know who you are. It’s just a misunderstanding.” I stared at the screen, the words stinging like tiny needles. “Tomorrow afternoon,” I said, my voice even, “schedule a meeting with Patricia Vance from Apex. Linda and I will go over there.” Alex nodded quickly. “Right away, Ms. Vance.” He practically fled my office, phone in hand. I leaned back in my chair, my fingers drumming a silent, restless rhythm on the desk. Interesting. In all my life, no one had ever called me an ugly duckling. A few moments after Alex left, my phone lit up. A notification: “Ken (Design) has accepted your contact request.” He accepts it now? I looked at the cartoon couple on his profile, a cold smile touching my lips. I didn’t message him. I didn’t want to waste a single word on him. With someone whose logic was this warped, any communication would just be twisted into new material for his “she’s harassing me” narrative. My phone pinged again. A message from him. “Ms. Monica, hello. First of all, thank you for your interest.” “However, I must state in no uncertain terms: there is no possibility of anything between us beyond necessary professional communication.” “I must insist that you maintain a professional distance. This is a matter of respect, not just for me, but for my girlfriend.” “Relationships require boundaries. I hope you can understand and act accordingly.” “Furthermore, I am being officially promoted to Project Lead of the design department tomorrow.” “I am passionate about my work and intend to devote all my energy to it.” “Frankly, I have neither the time nor the inclination to deal with unnecessary personal entanglements.” “I’ve said my piece. Please conduct yourself with dignity. Regards, Ken Kane.” I stared at this long, self-righteous, and utterly delusional “declaration.” My thumb hovered over the keyboard, typing and deleting, typing and deleting. In the end, I sent nothing. Argue with him? That would be like wrestling with a pig in mud. I flipped my phone face down on the desk. Out of sight, out of mind. 3 The next afternoon, Linda and I pulled up in front of the Apex Innovations building right on time. As expected, their CEO, Patricia Vance, was waiting at the lobby entrance with a small entourage. The moment our car stopped, Patricia practically jogged over, her face a mask of enthusiastic, nervous smiles. “Ms. Vance! Ms. Mason! Welcome, welcome! You honor us with your presence!” She personally opened my car door, her posture deferential. After a few pleasantries, Patricia led us toward the elevators. “We have the conference room all set up. This way, please.” The elevator whisked us to the fifth floor. As the doors opened, we could faintly hear the sound of boisterous male laughter drifting from a large conference room at the end of the hall. It was loud and unrestrained. Patricia’s expression tightened. She picked up her pace. “These guys,” she muttered under her breath, “I told them we had important clients visiting today.” She shot us an apologetic smile. “I’ll have them quiet down immediately.” We reached the conference room. The heavy, frosted glass door was closed. The laughter inside was even clearer now, completely unguarded. “Haha, Ken, what happened next? Did she ever text you back? That Monica girl?” an excited voice asked. My heart sank. It was Ken’s voice, dripping with undisguised mockery. “Text back? You think she’d dare?” “She probably saw my message and had a total meltdown.” “Not a peep out of her since last night.” “Tsk, I’ve seen her type before. I called her out on her pathetic little crush, and now she’s too ashamed to show her face.” “What a coward!” The room erupted in laughter. “Hahaha, coward! That’s the perfect word for it, Ken!” “Seriously, who does she think she is, making a move on our Ken?” “Our Ken is about to be a Project Lead!” “Damn right! The guy’s a genius.” “He’s handsome, talented, and his girlfriend is gorgeous and spoils him rotten.” “Some ugly ducklings will never even touch the feather of a swan like his girlfriend!” Ken’s voice adopted a tone of smug “humility.” “Ah, come on, guys. My girlfriend’s alright, I guess.” “She insisted on taking me to that new French place last night, the one that’s like five hundred bucks a plate. So stuffy.” “I told her we could just grab a burger, but she wouldn’t hear of it.” “Oh, and now she’s saying that once my promotion is official, she’s taking me on a celebratory trip to Europe.” “So annoying. Like I have the time for that. Honestly!” Patricia’s face had gone completely pale, a sheen of sweat on her forehead. She raised her hand to push the door open. My hand stopped her. I motioned for her to be silent. Linda, standing beside me, looked tense. Patricia stared at my cold profile, swallowed hard, and didn’t dare to breathe. 4 I gave Patricia a slight nod, signaling she could proceed. As if granted a pardon, she took a sharp breath and shoved the heavy glass door open. It slammed against the wall with a loud thwack. The conference room fell instantly silent. Three or four young men were gathered around the table, half-empty coffee cups scattered before them. Ken was sitting near the head of the table, one leg casually crossed over the other, a Starbucks cup in hand. He was sharply dressed today in well-fitting slacks that accentuated his build. The gleeful, smug expression on his face instantly morphed into a standard, sycophantic corporate smile the second he saw Patricia. “Patricia!” He was the first to stand, his voice oozing with a desire to please. The other men scrambled to their feet, plastering smiles on their faces. “Hi, Patricia.” “Glad you could make it, Patricia.” Patricia’s face was a thundercloud. She shot a death glare at Ken and his friends before stepping aside. “Ms. Vance, Ms. Mason, please, come in.” She forced a smile and gestured for us to enter. Linda and I walked in. Ken’s eyes flicked over Linda with familiar deference, then landed on me. The warmth in his gaze instantly vanished. Linda cleared her throat, trying to diffuse the tension. “Patricia, and this is…?” I cut her off, my gaze fixed calmly on Ken. “Hello. I’m Monica.” I stated my name. My voice wasn’t loud, but in the unnervingly quiet room, it was perfectly clear. The smile on Ken’s face faltered. A flicker of confusion crossed his eyes, as if the name sounded vaguely familiar. But just as quickly, the confusion was replaced by a thick wave of annoyance and contempt. He looked me up and down, his eyes scanning me like he was appraising a piece of cheap merchandise. A scornful smirk played on his lips. “Oh?” he drawled. “So it’s you. Ms. Monica.” “Well, well, you’ve got some nerve, don’t you?” “Following our CEO all the way to the office?” “What’s the matter? Did my message last night hit a little too close to home? You came here to corner me?” He let out a short, derisive laugh. “Was I not clear enough on the chat yesterday? Do you need me to repeat myself in front of everyone?” “I told you to keep your distance!” “Do you not understand English?” The air was thick with a dead silence. The other guys darted their eyes between me and Ken, their faces alight with the thrill of watching a drama unfold. Patricia’s lips trembled. “Ken, shut your mouth!” “Patricia!” Ken’s voice shot up, cutting her off. He looked like a man deeply wronged. He pointed a finger at me, the tip nearly touching my face. “You see this? Yesterday, I was trying to be nice, trying to let her down easy and save her some dignity.” “And what does she do? She shows up at my workplace today to harass me!” “Is this even legal? Is there no decency left?” “Patricia, you have to do something about this. I can’t work under these conditions!” His voice cracked with emotion. The performance was truly spectacular. 5 Patricia’s face was as white as a sheet, cold sweat pouring down her temples. I raised my hand and gently pushed his jabbing finger away from my eye. “Everyone else, out.” My eyes flicked to the other men. Patricia, as if receiving a royal decree, immediately barked at them. “You heard her! Get out! Now! Immediately!” The men flinched, hastily grabbing their phones and coffee cups, and scurried out of the room, hugging the wall as they went. As they passed me, their eyes were filled with undisguised contempt and schadenfreude. They clearly thought I was kicking them out to get Ken alone, to pursue him. The stupidity was breathtaking. Ken remained standing, watching his colleagues leave. The feigned look of victimhood vanished, replaced by an expression of smug victory. He even shot a wink toward the door, the corner of his mouth curled high as he mouthed a silent taunt. “See? Told you the ugly duckling wouldn’t give up. Had to get me alone.” Linda coughed awkwardly. “Patricia, Ms. Vance is…” Patricia finally snapped. “Ken, shut up! Do you have any idea who you’re talking to?” Ken jutted out his chin, defiant. “Of course I do, Patricia! It’s Monica! The woman who’s been harassing me!” “I made it perfectly clear last night. I told her I have a girlfriend. Even if you were trying to set us up, I would never agree to it.” “Work is work, and my personal life is my personal life. You’re the boss, but you can’t interfere with that.” He turned back to me. “If you keep this up, I’ll post about your disgusting behavior in the main project chat. We’ll let everyone from both companies be the judge!” My expression remained flat. What on earth was he even talking about? How had he constructed this elaborate fantasy from a simple contact request? Patricia’s voice rose to a full-blown roar. “Are you blind? This is Ms. Monica Vance from corporate headquarters! The head of the entire project!” “The eighty-million-dollar deal was approved because she gave it the green light! Who the hell do you think you are, talking to her like that?” “She’s worth millions, one of the most eligible women in the city! A-list actors and heirs of fortunes are lining up to ask her out! You think she’d be interested in you?” “And you dare accuse her of harassment? You must be out of your goddamn mind!”

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I am the daughter of a tragic romance novel’s female lead. At four years old, I finally understood the strange comments that floated before my eyes: 【The female lead is working herself to the bone to support her daughter, no idea she already has cancer. If she waits any longer, the kid’s gonna lose her mom!】 【If either of the main characters knew how to talk, the whole ‘secret baby’ plot wouldn’t even exist.】 【I feel so bad for their daughter. She loses her mom at six, and the male lead never even finds out she died or that he had a child. He just ends up alone.】 【Our little baby has it the worst. She has a billionaire for a dad but ends up in an orphanage…】 Mommy is going to die? I stared at my beautiful, gentle mother. No way! If they won’t talk, I will! One sunny afternoon, outside a towering skyscraper, I spotted a man in a sharp suit and immediately hugged his leg. “Daddy, give me money! I have to save Mommy!” 1 My name is Aria. Ever since I can remember, I knew I was different. Strings of strange symbols would always drift in front of my eyes. I thought everyone could see them, until the day I pointed at the air and asked my mommy about them. A look of confusion crossed her face. “Sweetheart, what are you talking about?” she asked. I soon realized that only my world had these scrolling, dense lines of text. After a while, I got used to them. Until I learned to read. The scrolling symbols started to look more and more familiar. My mommy knew I was smarter than other kids, so she had started teaching me to read and count when I was very young. This year, at four years old, I finally understood the strange symbols, the things called【The Comments】. 【The female lead is working herself to the bone to support her daughter, no idea she already has cancer. If she waits any longer, the kid’s gonna lose her mom!】 【If either of the main characters knew how to talk, the whole ‘secret baby’ plot wouldn’t even exist.】 【I feel so bad for their daughter. She loses her mom at six, and the male lead never even finds out she died or that he had a child. He just ends up alone.】 【Our little baby has it the worst. She has a billionaire for a dad but ends up in an orphanage…】 Female lead? Like the main character in the shows Mommy watches? I didn’t quite get it. I scratched my head with my chubby little hand. When Mommy came home from work that evening, she had a conflicted look on her face. “Aria, Mommy has to go on a business trip to another city for a few days. How about you stay with Auntie Carole? She can take you to kindergarten.” The strange comments flared up again: 【I can’t even watch. If she just went for a check-up now, they could definitely treat it in the early stages.】 【This business trip is her last chance to meet the male lead again, and she just walks right past him. I’m literally crying.】 【Evelyn, please go to the hospital! Forget about your stupid job! T_T】 【Little Aria is so good. She’s worried about her mom working so hard, with no idea how loaded her real dad is.】 【OMG when she finally gets diagnosed with stomach cancer, it’s already terminal. She gives up on treatment just to leave more money for her daughter. This is killing me, my tears are worthless…】 【…】 I froze. Evelyn. That’s my mommy’s name! Is my mommy the one who’s sick? I whipped my head around to look at her. She was still as beautiful and gentle as ever, but… maybe she was a little thinner. And she hadn’t been eating much lately. Is that because she’s sick? Mommy’s voice broke through my thoughts. “Sweetheart, you’re zoning out again. Did you hear me? Is it okay to stay with Auntie Carole?” “No!” I blurted out. 2 Mommy didn’t expect me to refuse. She opened her mouth to reason with me. “Aria, honey, Mommy has to go to work…” I threw my arms around her legs and looked up, my eyes red. “Mommy, can you ask for a day off for me from school? Take me with you. I promise I’ll be good.” “Aria,” Mommy said, stroking my cheek. “Why are you so sad? I’ll only be gone for a few days. You have to be a good girl and go to school.” “I don’t want to!” I insisted. “I already know everything the teachers are teaching. Please take me with you, Mommy, please…” Mommy could never resist when I begged. Her eyes lit up, clearly charmed by her own daughter. After a moment of hesitation, her resolve crumbled. She called my kindergarten to let them know I’d be absent. “Aria,” she said seriously, “you have to promise to listen to Mommy. When I’m working, you can’t run off, okay?” I nodded vigorously. And so, Mommy took me with her. It was my first time visiting another city. Mommy was always so busy that she usually hired a nanny to look after me. On the way there, the Comments scrolled across my vision: 【Little Aria is going on the trip! I hope she can find her dad and they can be a happy family.】 【I know, right? They’re so in love but so stubborn. I wish I could just jump in there and ask them if their pride is more important than life and death!】 【The company she’s visiting is right next to the Aytes Corporation headquarters! They have a chance to meet!】 【Ugh, I just really want the male lead to know he has a daughter!】 Find my daddy? I knew all the other kids at kindergarten had dads. Mommy told me my daddy was in a very faraway place. I thought that meant he was dead. But maybe not? It was okay not having a dad. But the Comments said Mommy was having a hard time raising me. Daddies are supposed to help raise kids, too! I made up my mind. I was going to find my daddy. If they won’t talk, I will! “Mommy, what does my daddy look like?” It was the first time I’d ever asked. The smile on Mommy’s face stiffened and faded. Her eyes held an emotion I couldn’t understand. “Aria, why are you suddenly asking about that?” “I just want to know.” After a long pause, Mommy finally said softly, “Your daddy is very handsome. But he has a bit of a bad temper.” That must mean a very bad temper. If even someone as gentle as Mommy couldn’t handle him. But having a bad temper doesn’t get you out of raising your kid! 3 Mommy didn’t feel safe leaving me in the hotel alone, so she took me with her to the office building she was visiting. She and her colleague had to go upstairs for a meeting, and it wasn’t convenient to bring me. She checked my kids’ smartwatch over and over. “Call me if you need anything,” she instructed. “Don’t trust strangers. If something happens, you can ask the nice lady at the front desk for help, understand?” I nodded seriously. The moment Mommy disappeared into the elevator, I hopped off my seat and walked out of the building. The Comments were scrolling frantically: 【Aria, see that black Rolls-Royce pulling up? That’s your dad in there!】 【AHHHH I don’t care if this isn’t how the plot is supposed to go! Did the author rewrite this? Let her meet the male lead!】 【Aria! In a second you’re going to see a man radiating pure CEO energy. Don’t hesitate. That’s your dad. Go and claim him!】 【…】 I looked toward another skyscraper that scraped the clouds. A black car was pulling up to the entrance. The car stopped, and two men got out. The one in front had a handsome, cold face and walked with the speed of a storm. The Comments: 【Kiddo! AHHHH that’s him! Go, run, hug his leg! That’s not just your dad, that’s your ticket to a trust fund!】 I didn’t hesitate. I sprinted forward on my short little legs and, with lightning speed, latched onto the man’s leg. Then I tilted my head back and yelled: “Daddy!” “Give me money!” “I have to save Mommy!” Daddies raise kids. Kids save mommies. The logic was flawless. For a moment, the world went silent. Then, a gruff, impolite voice sounded from above me. “Where did this chubby kid come from?” Chubby kid? Me? I jerked my head up to see a man who seemed impossibly tall. He was looking down, meeting my eyes. Just like Mommy said, he was very handsome. But he also looked very mean. “I’m not chubby,” I corrected him. Mommy said I was just growing, and that I was cute and cuddly. Another man in a gray suit beside him wiped imaginary sweat from his forehead. “Mr. Aytes, perhaps she’s one of the employees’ children.” He crouched down to my level, his voice gentle. “Little one, can you tell me who your mommy and daddy are? I can help you find them.” I looked back up at the man whose leg I was holding. “But my daddy is right here.” “Who?” the man in gray asked, confused. He pointed at the man I was hugging. “You mean… Mr. Aytes?” I nodded emphatically. The man in gray stood up and stammered to his boss, “Mr. Aytes, I… uh…” The man called Mr. Aytes looked down at me and scoffed. “Hey, chubby kid, did your parents ever teach you that you can’t just go around saying whatever you want? Since when do I have a daughter your size?” “Well, I’m telling you now, so now you know,” I replied. “…I’m not.” “But you are my daddy!” “Who told you that?” he asked, crouching down to look me in the eye. “Do you even know my name, or are you just picking random dads?” “Of course I know. Your name is Leo Aytes,” I said. The Comment ladies told me. He blinked, surprised. “You know me?” “You’re my daddy. Of course I know you.” He stared at me for a long moment, then a smirk played on his lips. “Alright, chubby kid, who put you up to this scam?” “My name is not chubby kid. You can call me Aria.” “Fine, Aria. Look, I don’t have time for games. Go with this man, and he’ll help you find your parents, okay?” “No. Are you abandoning your daughter?” I stared at him. “Mommy said you weren’t that kind of person. Were you lying to her?” A few other adults, who I guessed were my dad’s employees, were standing nearby, their faces lit up with the thrill of office gossip. He looked like he was about to laugh from sheer frustration. “Fine. You tell me who your mother is. I’d love to know who I supposedly had such a big daughter with.” “My mommy’s name is Evelyn.” 4 The air went still again. “You said,” he began slowly, his voice suddenly tense, “your mother’s name is Evelyn?” I nodded. “Yup!” His gaze sharpened, studying my face as if searching for a ghost. The next second, before anyone could react, he scooped me into his arms and strode forward. “Mr. Aytes? Sir?” the other man called out, confused. I was carried into an elevator, my arms wrapped around the neck of the man who was supposedly my father. He wasn’t very good at holding children, so I had to wiggle around to get comfortable. “What are you squirming for?” he grumbled. “Daddy, you’re not holding me right.” He fell silent and let me adjust myself in his arms. “There.” The man named Leo Aytes stared at me. After a moment, he asked, “How old are you?” “Daddy, I’m four.” He went silent again. Then he said, “Are other four-year-olds this heavy?” I got a little mad. “Mommy never says I’m heavy when she holds me. And I’m not complaining that you’re bad at holding kids.” The other man who had followed us into the elevator stood silently in the corner like a statue, though his eyes looked like they were screaming. The elevator doors opened, and I was carried into an office. We passed several people who stared with wide, shocked eyes. I heard someone whisper behind us, “Mark, whose kid is that with Mr. Aytes?” The man called “Mark” just shook his head. I was placed on a sofa, and the man and I stared at each other. He got a pen and paper. “You said your mom is Evelyn, right? Here. Write her name.” The man who had followed us couldn’t help but interject. “Mr. Aytes, a four-year-old might not know how to write…” Before he could finish, I picked up the pen and wrote “Evelyn” on the paper. The letters were a little wobbly, but I would never get Mommy’s name wrong. My dad stared at the name for a long time, then his eyes returned to my face. “Did your mother tell you I was your father?” I shook my head. He scoffed again. “Then how did you know? Maybe she had you with some other guy. Why else wouldn’t she bring you to me?” The Comments popped up again: 【He’s so stubborn! He’s totally freaking out with excitement on the inside, though.】 【This is why he’s fated to be single forever. So damn stubborn.】 【Just get a DNA test, dude! Aria, honey, pull out a few of his hairs for him. Make sure you get the roots!】 【LOL he’s probably already decided to keep her whether she’s his or not!】 【…】 I thought for a moment, then reached up and started pulling at his hair. One. Ouch. Two. Ouch… My dad grabbed my hand. “What are you doing?” Tears were welling up in my eyes from the sting. I placed the small clump of hair in his palm. “Daddy, go get a test. Then you’ll know if I’m your kid.” He froze. “Who taught you that? Your mother? Where is she?” “Mommy’s at work.” “Do you know her number? Call her and have her pick you up.” My dad seemed very insistent on seeing my mommy. I shook my head again, looking at him with disapproval. “I already told you, Mommy is working. You shouldn’t bother her.” “Is she at work, or is she just too scared to see me?” “Mommy didn’t do anything wrong. Why would she be scared to see you?” I heard him scoff again. This dad really did have a bad temper. 5 His phone on the desk lit up. I glanced over and saw the screen was a photo of two people. “Wow,” I said in surprise. “You have an old picture of Mommy!” The mommy in the picture looked so young, and she was wearing what looked like a school uniform. Before my dad could say anything, I showed him the wallpaper on my smartwatch. “Look, I have a picture with Mommy, too.” On the tiny screen was a photo of Mommy holding me when I was two. She was looking at the camera with a gentle smile. My dad stared at the photo for a long time. Then he suddenly asked, “Why did you think I was your father, and not someone else?” “Because Mommy cries when she looks at your picture,” I said, looking him straight in the eye. That part wasn’t from the Comments. I’d seen it myself. Mommy had someone in her heart who made her sad. When I was younger, she would sometimes look at a photo on her phone late at night and cry. “Mr. Aytes,” the man beside him prompted, “it’s almost time for the meeting.” He stood up, looking down at me for a moment before turning to his assistant. “Have Sarah from my office come and watch her. And don’t let anyone pick her up until the meeting is over.” Soon, I was alone in the huge office with a pretty lady. She brought me lots of snacks and smiled. “Hi, sweetie. Want me to play with you?” “Okay!” Sarah, the secretary, patted my cheek, and then patted it again, apparently liking how soft it was. “So, honey,” she whispered conspiratorially, “what’s your relationship with Mr. Aytes?” “He’s my daddy.” Her hand froze on my cheek. She cupped my face, her voice filled with a mix of envy and resentment toward her capitalist overlord. “Him? He can produce a daughter this cute?” I could tell Sarah suffered a lot under her boss. Mommy’s work was taking longer than expected. When I got bored, I sent her messages on my watch so she wouldn’t worry. About an hour later, my dad returned to the office, his face as cold as ever. “Mr. Aytes,” Sarah said, standing up. My mouth was full of potato chips. “Daddy!” I mumbled. My dad looked at Sarah. “You can go.” “Yes, sir.” The office door clicked shut. He walked over and sat down in front of me. “Hasn’t your mother contacted you yet? Don’t tell me she abandoned you and just dumped you on me.” Excuse me? I put my hands on my hips and glared at him. “Leo Aytes, you are not allowed to talk about my mommy like that!” “No respect,” he muttered, reaching over to wipe the chip crumbs from my mouth. “Weren’t you just calling me ‘Daddy’ a minute ago?” “Mommy likes you, so you’re my daddy. If Mommy liked someone else, he could be my daddy,” I said, full of righteous logic. “Mama’s girl,” he sneered. Mommy’s precious girl? I puffed out my chest and nodded. “That’s right! I am a mama’s girl!” “…” As dinnertime approached, I patted my tummy and tugged on his sleeve. “Daddy, I’m hungry.” “Didn’t you just eat a mountain of snacks? You’re hungry already?” He poked my belly, as if to check if I was telling the truth. “Snacks are snacks. Dinner is dinner,” I said seriously. “Such a little know-it-all,” he mumbled, but he picked up his phone and ordered food to be delivered. It was the first meal my dad and I ever shared. For some reason, he kept staring at my face. He even tried to feed me at first, but I’m a big kid. I can eat by myself. After dinner, Mommy still hadn’t come. Her work must have been really tough. I was getting sleepy and hadn’t seen any new messages from her. I leaned against my dad and drifted off. Sometime later, my smartwatch started ringing. In a sleepy haze, I felt someone answer it. I vaguely heard Mommy’s voice on the other end, but my eyelids were too heavy. Someone gently shook me. “Aria, your mommy is coming to get you.” I instinctively snuggled closer. “Daddy, I’m so sleepy.” The voice stopped. The next thing I knew, I was being lifted into a pair of strong, broad arms. 6 I woke up to the sound of arguing. I opened my eyes from the sofa and saw Mommy. “Leo, I already told you, Aria is not your daughter.” In the dim light, Mommy looked so small and fragile standing across from my dad. “Not your daughter? Then why did she run up and call me ‘Daddy’?” I heard my dad scoff. “She said she’s four. If she’s not mine, that means you cheated on me, Evelyn. So tell me, who’s the bastard?” “What’s the point of talking about this now?” Mommy’s voice was weary. “It’s all in the past, Leo. She’s not your child. I’m taking her home.” “You say she’s not, and that’s that? I took her for a DNA test this afternoon. We’ll see who’s lying when the results come in.” Mommy flinched at his words. Her lips moved, but no sound came out. “Mommy,” I called out. “Aria,” Mommy’s attention finally shifted to me. She rushed over and hugged me, her eyes red. “You scared Mommy to death.” I snuggled into her cheek. “I’m sorry, Mommy.” She kissed my face. “No, I’m sorry. It was my fault for being so busy with work. I should have watched you better.” An ill-timed voice cut in from the side. “So, is this a touching mother-daughter reunion? What does that make me, the villain?” I looked over. My dad’s handsome face was dark with anger. “Mommy,” I asked her, “why did you ever like someone so mean?” “…” The silence was mutual. I blinked, looking between them. “Aria, let’s go home,” Mommy said, picking me up to leave. But my dad reached out, his voice still cold. “Let me hold her. I don’t know how you’ve been managing these past few years, but you’ve gotten so thin. Don’t you know how heavy she is? You’ll throw out your back.” “Daddy, I’m not heavy,” I reminded him. He bounced me in his arms and snorted. “Looks like all your food money went to feeding this one.” I decided not to talk to him anymore. Mommy walked silently beside us, her expression complicated as she watched me and my dad. In the elevator, my dad finally spoke. “Evelyn, you were the one who broke up with me without a word and disappeared. Why?” Mommy looked down, silent. “If you really didn’t care about me, why did you have my child?” The Comments started scrolling again: 【AHHHHH MALE LEAD YOU FINALLY ASKED! FEMALE LEAD I’M BEGGING YOU, FOR MY SAKE, PLEASE TALK!!】 【My friend said she’ll die with regrets if you two don’t clear up this misunderstanding!】 【Because your mom gave her five million dollars to leave you, you idiot! And she didn’t even take the money, that’s what makes me so mad!】 【And do you remember your supposed fiancée from five years ago? Evelyn probably thinks you’re married by now! Explain yourself!】 【…】 I blinked. “Daddy, are you married?” The arms holding me lifted, and I was suddenly face-to-face with my dad. His expression was flat. “Who taught you to spread rumors about your father like that?” “Daddy, are you not married because no one likes you?” I tilted my head. “Lots of people like my mommy.” “Is that so?” He seemed to glance at Mommy. “And with so many admirers, your mom isn’t married either, is she?” “That’s different!” I corrected. “My mommy doesn’t like them. You’re the one nobody likes.” “Okay, Aria, that’s enough,” Mommy said, covering my mouth with her hand.

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My wife Eleanor despised our arranged marriage. On the day she tried to run away with her lover, a car crash left her paralyzed. I found her, saved her, and cared for her unquestioningly for the rest of our lives. We even raised three children together. I assumed we’d have a quiet, if not passionate, life. I never imagined she resented me every one of those years. As we grew old, she brought her lover home to live with us. “If it weren’t for you,” she spat, voice trembling with hatred, “Andrea would have saved me. You ruined my life and my true love. I never want to see you again!” My children echoed her, urging me into a nursing home. “You had Mom’s love for a lifetime. Be grateful,” said my eldest. “Uncle Andrea has no one. He’d be miserable in a home,” my second son pleaded. “Mom doesn’t have much time left,” whispered my daughter. “Let her be happy.” They cast me aside, spending my pension while playing family with him. Rage and grief overwhelmed me. A stroke left me paralyzed, trapped. When the flood came, I drowned alone. When I opened my eyes, I was back on the day my wife ran away. If her greatest regret was never being with him, this time I would grant her wish. 1 “Father, I want a divorce.” Across the grand living room, a younger, vibrant Eleanor stood defiantly before her father. The suffocating feeling of floodwater filling my lungs still lingered, a phantom pressure in my chest. I looked around at the familiar yet strangely distant room, the heavy velvet curtains, the polished mahogany table. It took me a moment to understand. I was reborn. On the ornate chair at the head of the room, the old man’s face was a mask of fury. “Nonsense!” he barked. Seeing my father-in-law, Mr. Ashford, alive again after so many years, brought a sting to my eyes. I was an orphan, a beggar he had found on the street and brought into his home. In an era where most struggled for a single meal, he gave me new clothes and full bowls of rice. He taught me to read, sent me to school, and personally mentored me in his business. When I came of age, he gave me a home, a name, and his daughter’s hand in marriage. He was more of a father to me than anyone. I owed him everything. My lips parted, about to voice the name I hadn’t called him in decades, when Eleanor’s sharp voice cut through the air. “Father, I have never once disobeyed you. You told me to marry this… this coarse, uneducated boy you took in, and I did,” she declared, her voice dripping with disdain. “But I don’t love him. He can’t discuss literature or philosophy. He’s vulgar. We have nothing in common.” Her gaze softened as she continued. “Only Andrea understands me. He loves me, he respects me. Only with him do I feel alive, truly in love. Mother is gone. Can you really be so cruel as to watch me waste my life with a man I despise?” Her accusations sent a tremor through Mr. Ashford, but he controlled his anger, turning to me with an apologetic look. “Eleanor is young and foolish, Jacob. Don’t pay any mind to her words.” I gave a bitter smile. Young? Our three children were already old enough to run around the yard. But perhaps in a father’s eyes, a daughter never truly grows up. Eleanor’s cold, merciless gaze shifted to me. “My father says he raised you to take care of me. But I have hands and feet. I have a staff of servants. I don’t need you.” She took a step closer. “I’ve wanted to say this to you for a long time. I have never loved you. Not now, not ever. Jacob, I’ve made myself perfectly clear. Are you really going to shamelessly cling to this family where you don’t belong?” Those familiar words were a key, unlocking a vault of memories I had buried deep. I glanced at the calendar on the wall, my head spinning. In my last life, on this exact day, Eleanor had come to Mr. Ashford to demand a divorce so she could be with Andrea. My father-in-law, knowing my loyalty and my quiet, lifelong adoration for his daughter, refused. He had seen how I’d cared for her, and in his eyes, I was the only man for the job. When her father said no, she turned on me. Back then, I believed him—that she was just being spoiled and childish. I couldn’t bear to leave her or our children, so I refused as well. In a fit of rage, she tried to run away with Andrea. They didn’t get far. A car crash crushed her legs, leaving her crippled for life. I put aside my hurt and devoted myself to her. She, however, blamed me for her fate. She resented me for not letting her go, for “trapping” her. She cursed me for saving her, for caring for her, accusing me of using my service as a weapon to hold her captive, blocking the only path for Andrea to be with her. To the world, she was the tragic heroine, and Andrea was her lost love. And me? Her husband, who served her hand and foot for a lifetime? I was a relic of a bygone era, a symbol of her father’s feudal mindset, and the villain who had destroyed her one chance at happiness. Fine. This time, I would step aside. This time, I would grant her the love story she so desperately wanted. Eleanor and her father were still arguing. I sighed softly and looked at the old man. “Sir,” I said, my voice steady. “Her heart is set. Let her have her way.” 2 Though Eleanor and I had raised three children, we hadn’t gotten a proper marriage license for over a decade. Back then, all it took was her father’s approval and a written marriage contract. Annulling it was simple. All we needed was his nod. “Even after all this, you still won’t agree, you spineless…” Eleanor’s tirade faltered as my words finally registered. She stopped mid-insult. She shot me a surprised look, the hostility in her eyes lessening just a fraction. “Good, you’ve finally come to your senses,” she said, her tone shifting. “If you behave, I might consider your years of service to this family and make sure you don’t starve.” Her words were as arrogant as ever. Just like on our wedding day, when she stood beside me, a beautiful, untouchable statue of ice. The birth of our children had thawed her slightly; we lived as courteous strangers, sharing a roof but not a life. Then, six months ago, Andrea had arrived. Hired as a tutor for the children, he immediately caught Eleanor’s eye. From that moment on, she despised my lack of formal education. I couldn’t discuss foreign literature with her; all I was good for was fetching her tea and massaging her tired shoulders. I studied cuisines from around the world to please her palate; she complained I smelled of kitchen grease. I spent a fortune importing a rare cologne from France just to see her smile. She took it from me and gave it to Andrea. “Things of this quality,” she’d said, “are meant for cultured, educated men.” Andrea would fold a simple paper flower, hand it to her with a flourish, and murmur, “A beautiful flower for a beautiful woman.” She would blush and giggle like a schoolgirl. I planted an entire garden of roses for her, a breathtaking sea of color under the sun. She mocked me for it, calling me a pathetic, posturing clown. In her eyes, I could do nothing right. Even the sound of my breathing grated on her. She said I was loud as an ox and belonged in a barn, not a house. She saw me through a lens of prejudice. Andrea was her perfect man. She was blind to the truth. No one is perfect. The more perfect someone seems, the more likely they are a carefully crafted trap. In my last life, during my time in that desolate nursing home, I was consumed by a need for answers. I’d spent my last ounce of energy investigating Andrea and found a mountain of evidence. He was a grifter, a con man who left a trail of financial ruin wherever he went. But by then, it was too late. When I showed the proof to my family, they accused me of slander. The memories still stung, a fresh wave of injustice washing over me. Mr. Ashford’s voice pulled me back to the present. “Jacob, don’t be hasty. Think of your three children. What will happen to them if you two separate?” A triumphant smile finally broke across Eleanor’s face. “Don’t worry, Father. The children are very sensible. They feel the same way I do. They adore Andrea.” She leaned forward. “If you don’t believe me, I’ll call them in. They can tell you themselves.” A few moments later, the children entered, but they weren’t alone. The elegant, scholarly Andrea was with them. Mr. Ashford erupted. “Get out! This is a private family matter. You have no place here, outsider!” Before he could continue, our eldest son, Daniel, stepped in front of Andrea. “Uncle Andrea isn’t an outsider.” Our second son, Leo, sniffled. “Grandpa, please, we wanted him to come. Don’t make him leave.” And our youngest, Lily, nestled in Andrea’s arms, pointed a tiny finger at me. “I don’t want that dirty beggar!” she chirped. “I want Uncle Andrea to be our daddy.” Even knowing this was coming, seeing it with my own eyes—the children I had raised and protected siding with a stranger, shaming their own father—was a bitter pill to swallow. I looked at them, and they instinctively flinched, hiding the candy in their hands behind their backs. So that was it. Andrea indulged their every whim. They constantly complained of toothaches, so I was strict about sugar. Because of me, not one of them had a single cavity. But when they were older, they wrote bitter diary entries about my “tyranny.” It’s all genetic anyway. My friend eats candy for breakfast and never brushes her teeth, and she’s fine. My dad never bought us sweets, and if he caught us not brushing, we’d get a spanking. The pain of a toxic childhood… Thinking of this, I looked away. I wouldn’t interfere again. Andrea shot me a smug glance, then gently chided the children. “You mustn’t be rude to your elders. If you do that again, Uncle won’t like you anymore.” They immediately fell silent, chastened. Eleanor raised an eyebrow at her father. “You see? Jacob only knows how to use brute force. The children are afraid of him. Andrea uses modern, scientific methods. He is far better suited to be their father.” Mr. Ashford, who had been so vehemently opposed, now fell silent. Eleanor turned her gaze back to me. “Jacob, you were brought into this family. After the divorce, the children will stay with me. Do you have any objections?” The children stared at me, their eyes wide with alarm, terrified I might try to take them. I smiled, a hollow, empty thing. “That’s perfectly reasonable,” I said, nodding. “I have no objections.” Defeated, Mr. Ashford could only agree. When the marriage contract was brought out, he hesitated one last time. He looked at his daughter, his voice grave. “This contract is the only thing binding you. Once it’s torn, it’s over. Are you absolutely sure you won’t regret this?”

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My eyes fluttered open to a new world and an old notification. [Dead yet? If not, get over here and apologize. If Spencer forgives you, I’ll consider not dumping you.] I mentally grabbed the System by its digital collar and demanded an explanation. …Right. So, the original owner of this body completed the 100 tasks for the female lead and has returned to his own world to save his lover. Then I brought you in. I clutched my head, a silent scream echoing in my mind. “I asked you to find me a world with women, not a world with a toxic nightmare!” Calm down. I never said you had to stay with her. This place is full of beautiful women. Besides, the last guy left behind an eight-figure bank account, completely untouched. I brought you here to live a little. Or a lot. Tens of millions? Suddenly, I was feeling much better. My phone buzzed again. A new text from the same number. [You have thirty minutes. Get to this suite. And you’d better mean the apology. Don’t be stubborn.] My fingers flew across the screen. [Previous owner of this number is deceased. This is his ghost. You’ve been blocked. Boo.] 1 [?] [You’re dead? So a ghost is texting me back?] [Don’t play these childish games, Leo. You know my patience is thin.] Tsk. Technically, if the System hadn’t pulled me in the second the original soul left, this body would be dead. I wasn’t even lying. But whatever. I’d seen this script a thousand times. The “100 tasks” she’d set were undoubtedly a parade of humiliations. At best, it was kneeling in the rain at midnight. At worst, it was donating a kidney on a whim. Classic martyr-complex fiction. The System’s taste was truly depraved. The thought of dealing with a woman like that turned my stomach. And why should I? I was rich now! Tens of millions! “System, buddy, pal. Check my accounts. What are we talking, exactly?” One sec… Eighty million… What’s with that look? You’re going to spend it right now? I nearly launched the pillow into the ceiling. “Spend it? Of course, I’m gonna spend it! Money you don’t spend is just paper! Find me the biggest, most decadent, over-the-top luxury club in this city. I want the one with the highest-quality models!” “I’m ordering eight at once!” I’d been poor my entire last life. It was finally my turn to be the guy who buys the bar. 2 I showered and styled myself into a vision of cool intensity, choosing a wickedly handsome dark red silk shirt. I did a few turns in front of the full-length mirror. The body was fantastic—broad shoulders, long legs. Just like my original. Satisfied. As I was about to head out, my phone rang. An unsaved number. I answered it. “Leo, it’s been half an hour. Where are you?” “Don’t think you can do whatever you want just because you’re my boyfriend. When you do something wrong, you apologize. Have you forgotten how to be a decent human being?” The disdain and impatience in her voice were so thick you could cut them with a knife. Ah, so this was the toxic ex. What a drag. But my mood was too good to be ruined. I could afford to be generous with an explanation. “Listen, lady, your boyfriend checked out. Permanently. I’m just the ghost possessing his body, so no, I won’t be coming.” “As of this moment, you and this body have zero connection. Lose my number. Bye!” I hung up, blocked the number, and ran a hand through my hair. I slipped on my leather shoes. “Let’s roll! To The Platinum Club!” 3 When I told the manager I wanted his most extravagant VIP suite and his most expensive hostesses, the man’s smile nearly split his face. He personally escorted me, promising to bring his top talent over shortly. I was grinning just as wide. I’d never experienced this kind of luxury before. But before we even reached the suite, a voice cut through the plush hallway. “Well, well, look who it is. Leo.” A man I didn’t recognize swaggered toward me. “I thought you had some backbone. All that talk about not coming, and here you are, crawling back with your tail between your legs.” He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled towards a nearby suite. “Meredith! Your man’s here!” I gave the guy a once-over. Dressed well enough, but he had the forgettable face of a background character. A moment later, a whole entourage spilled out of the adjacent suite. One of them started clapping. “I won! See, I told you! He’s trained like Meredith’s little puppy. He might throw a little tantrum, but in the end, he always comes when he’s called.” He held out his hand to another man. “Ten grand. Pay up.” The other guy sighed, pulling out his phone to make the transfer with a sour look. A man and a woman emerged from the center of the group. Judging by their looks and the way the others parted for them, they were the main event. The woman’s face was a mask of derision. “So you decided to show up? I was actually starting to believe you were dead.” I took in the scene and pinged the System. “System, who are these clowns? Is that the female lead?” …Yes. I had no idea she was here. So that was Meredith. Which meant the guy standing a little too close to her must be the Spencer she’d mentioned. But— What did that have to do with me? I gave her a cheerful smile and an “OK” sign with my hand. “You got it. You should absolutely consider me dead.” “From now on, when you see me, you’re seeing a ghost. Just pretend you can’t see me, okay?” I turned to enter my suite, but a hand shot out and grabbed my arm. Meredith’s face was stony. “You’re not going to apologize?” “Why would I apologize?” “You knew Spencer was allergic to mangoes, yet you ordered a fruit platter with mango on it. He almost went into anaphylactic shock. You don’t think you should apologize for that?” I almost laughed. “He knew he was allergic to mangoes, yet he ate from a fruit platter with mango on it. Is he an idiot?” A strange, awkward silence fell over the hallway. It was broken by a cloyingly sweet voice. Spencer’s. “Meredith, don’t be too hard on Leo. I’m sure he didn’t do it on purpose. It was dark in the suite, and I just… I ate it by mistake. Let’s just drop it.” I immediately jumped on it. “You hear that? The professional victim himself said he ate it by mistake. Are you insane for trying to pin this on me?” “Let go. Let. Go.” I shook my arm hard, dislodging her grip. When I looked up, the expressions on everyone’s faces were priceless. Spencer pointed at himself, his face a picture of disbelief. “…Did you just call me a professional victim?” “Oh, sorry, I have no filter. Besides, you look a little green around the gills. Is there a problem?” “Leo, that’s enough!” Meredith’s voice was sharp. “If you didn’t want to apologize, why did you even come here?” “To beg me not to break up with you?” “Is this how you beg?” I crossed my arms, relaxed, and narrowed my eyes. “Beg for what? Lady, this is The Platinum Club. It’s the most exclusive gentlemen’s club in the city. What do you think I’m here for?” As if on cue, the manager returned, followed by a line of stunningly beautiful women, each one a different type. The manager bowed obsequiously. “Mr. Pierce, I’ve brought the ladies. Are they to your satisfaction?” The hallway went dead silent. I let my gaze sweep over the lineup, and my eyes lit up. “Perfect! Absolutely perfect! Bring them all inside!” I told the manager to take them to the suite and to open a few bottles of his best champagne. When I turned back, Meredith and her entire crew were frozen in place, staring as if they’d seen a ghost. For real, this time. 4 Just as I was about to step into paradise, my arm was grabbed for a second time. Again? Meredith’s voice was a low growl through gritted teeth. “Leo, did you come here to hire escorts?!” I rolled my eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck. “None of your damn business. I already told you, I’m not your boyfriend. Go hang out with your little lapdog Spencer and leave me alone.” I tried to pull away, but her grip was tight. So I lifted my leather shoe and brought the heel down hard on her foot. I didn’t hold back. Meredith’s face went white, and she instantly let go. She looked like she wanted to scream but choked it down, her expression twisting in pain, her lips pressed into a thin, trembling line. “Fine, Leo. Just… fine.” “Don’t you dare come crawling back to me, begging for forgiveness. Let’s go!” Meredith waved a hand dismissively, turning on her heel and storming back to her suite, her crew trailing behind her like confused ducklings. A few of them cast lingering, curious glances back, clearly wanting to see how the rest of the drama would unfold. I gave them a very impolite middle finger and strode majestically into my suite. Damn, this place really was the city’s temple of indulgence. The quality of the women was unreal. Sexy, sweet, all of them with killer figures. They cooed “Leo” and “honey” until my heart melted. I popped six bottles of champagne, my hands finding their way around plenty of slender waists. I grabbed the microphone and launched into a passionate, off-key karaoke session. The women were incredibly supportive, listening with rapt attention as if I were a rock god, even though I sounded like a dying animal. My soaring high notes occasionally drew curious onlookers to the door of my suite. Whatever. A true artist always draws a crowd. I had my arm around the sexiest, spiciest woman in the room, completely lost in the song. Just as I was about to hit the crescendo, the door was kicked open with a thunderous crash. At that exact moment, the seven women surrounding me pulled the strings on confetti cannons they’d been holding. A shower of glittering streamers and flower petals exploded across the room, covering the intruder from head to toe. The group of people standing in the doorway gasped. Meredith stood there, trembling with rage. “Leo, get over here right now!” Her again? This woman was like a dog with a bone. I patted the woman next to me on the shoulder, signaling her to release me. “Lady, you’re seriously a ghost I can’t shake. What is it now?” 5 Without a word, Meredith strode forward and tried to pull me toward the door. “You’re coming with me!” “Hey! Hey! What are you doing? Don’t touch me! To me, my darlings! Protect your king!” The eight women immediately swarmed, pulling me back and forming a protective human wall in front of me. With enough money, even models could become my personal army. Behind Meredith, her sycophantic friends were whispering. “Has he completely lost his mind?” “How dare he push her like this? Meredith is going to explode.” “This is a new tactic, I guess. The nice guy act wasn’t working, so now he’s playing hard to get?” Meredith’s face was a shade of livid green. “If your goal today was to piss me off, then congratulations, you’ve succeeded.” “Get out here!” I was speechless. This was absurd. “Are you crazy? I’m paying for this. Why would I leave?” “Is your face prettier than theirs? Is your waist smaller? No? Then could you please get lost? You’re ruining the mood.” Meredith slammed her palm against the doorframe. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll actually break up with you?” Huh? So we weren’t broken up yet? “Oh my god, please! Yes! Let’s break up! Do it! From now on, just pretend I don’t exist, okay?” Spencer stepped forward, placing a hand on Meredith’s arm. “Meredith, don’t be angry. He’s just throwing a tantrum. He’s your boyfriend, after all. He feels like he can act out with you. It’s normal for him to be a little childish~” Nice one, Mr. Passive-Aggressive. Fan those flames. Meredith’s cheeks puffed out with rage. “Have I been too easy on you? If you don’t come out of there right now, you can forget about ever being with me again!” God, I wished she would believe me. I really, truly was not her submissive “boyfriend.” I was a ghost. A squatter. But honestly, in a situation like this, who would believe that? I cupped my hands around my mouth and yelled, “ARE YOU DEAF? I SAID LET’S BREAK UP!” “LEO! DON’T YOU REGRET THIS!” “WHOEVER REGRETS IT IS A DOG!” Meredith’s face cycled through shades of green and purple, as if she’d been poisoned. After a long, tense standoff, she stomped her foot so hard that her friends behind her flinched. She shot me one last, fiery glare, then turned and stormed away, grinding her teeth. What a waste of my time. Ten whole minutes. 6 I ignored the drama and went back to drinking with the lovely ladies in my suite. By the time we were done, it was midnight. I staggered out of the room, fumbling for my phone to order a car. I hadn’t even gotten a firm grip on it when I stumbled headfirst into a woman’s shoulder. The phone clattered to the floor, the screen shattering into a spiderweb of cracks. Shit. I was about to look up and give her a piece of my mind when I was blinded by a divine light. Oh, my god. I’d run into an angel. My vocabulary failed me. I had no words to describe how beautiful this woman was. In one glance, I had already planned out which college our future children would attend. The manager had been holding out on me. How dare he not bring this goddess to my suite? I made a decision. I would buy her freedom. Then I’d build her a golden palace and we’d make love day and night. I leaned against her, feigning helplessness, and poked her shoulder with my finger. “You little devil. You broke my phone. Now I can’t even call a car to get home.” “As punishment, you’ll have to drive me.” I waited for a moment, but she didn’t move. I glanced up again. Our eyes met. Her face was backlit, making it impossible to read her expression. Playing hard to get. She must be new here. I raised my hand to tilt her chin up, but she caught my wrist mid-air. “Are you harassing me?” “Tsk. This isn’t harassment, darling. This is flirting.” Quick as a flash, I snatched the brooch from her uniform and gave her my most charmingly fake smile. “Baby, you take me home, and I’ll give this back to you. How about it?” The woman stared at me for a long moment, then a very faint, very small smile touched her lips. A musical voice slipped from her throat. “Fine.” 7 I had seriously overestimated myself. I imagined that when we got home, the beauty and I would get up to all sorts of things, exploring every position, a battle of passion lasting three hundred rounds. Instead, my useless body passed out cold in the car. Pathetic. The next morning, I woke up with a pounding headache to find the woman sitting perfectly composed in an armchair across from my bed, her legs crossed, watching me with a curious gaze. She was fully dressed. I peeked under the covers. My clothes were still on. Damn. Missed my chance. …But it was fine. There would be other opportunities. I gave her a reassuring smile. “Morning, beautiful. Where are we?” Her expression was unreadable. She ignored my question. “Do you know who I am?” “Hey, don’t be shy. Working at a club is nothing to be ashamed of. I’ve got money. I can buy out your contract. All you have to do is promise to be my little kitten.” “By the way, what’s your name?” The woman arched an eyebrow. “Sloane.” Wow. Even her name was sweet. I liked it. “Excellent. From now on, you’re my one and only.” Sloane’s lips curved into a smile that completely captivated me. She leaned back leisurely into the armchair. “As I recall, Mr. Pierce, you already have a girlfriend, don’t you?” “What? No! That’s slander! Not true!” I delivered the three denials with conviction. “Don’t you worry. I’m single now. You are absolutely not the other woman. No one’s going to call you a homewrecker.” The words were barely out of my mouth when someone started knocking on the front door. The knocking grew more and more frantic. Who the hell delivers packages this early? I got out of bed to answer it, playfully patting Sloane’s thigh as I passed. “You just wait here for me, kitten.” The moment I opened the door, my good mood evaporated. Meredith was leaning against the wall, her eyes flicking up to meet mine. “Are you over it yet?” “If you are, you can unblock me now.” 8 I was dumbfounded. “Wait, why are you here? Didn’t we agree that whoever came crawling back was a dog?” She pushed herself off the wall, her expression a mix of exasperation and something that looked disturbingly like affection. “Woof. Happy now?” “I know you just did all that yesterday to make me angry. I’ll let the thing with Spencer go. We’ll just forget about it. But I don’t want it to happen again.” “And I take back what I said about breaking up. You love me too much. Breaking up with you would kill you. I could never do that to you.” “Now, unblock me. Be good.” She moved to hug me. I shoved her away and ran my hands through my hair in frustration, a torrent of curses flowing through my mind. “Look, lady, you’re a narcissist. You’re not exactly short on guys. Why are you so obsessed with me?” “To you, the old Leo was just a toy you could pick up and put down whenever you wanted. Do us both a favor and just pretend you don’t know me, okay? I seriously want nothing to do with you.” “You’re exhausting.” Meredith’s expression tightened for a second, but then she relaxed, letting out a low chuckle. “Still this angry?” “I guess I really have spoiled you. I used to make you stand in the rain for half an hour to go buy a cake for Spencer, and you wouldn’t say a word. Now I just ask for an apology, and you throw a fit like this.” “Alright, stop sulking. We can—” Her words died in her throat. Her face darkened instantly. “Leo, who is she?!” I turned to see Sloane standing behind me, one hand in her pocket, her expression cool and detached. “Hey, I told you to wait in the room. Why’d you come out?” She tilted her chin toward Meredith. “You said you were single. Who’s this?” I chuckled, trying to push Sloane back into the bedroom. “Nobody. Don’t know her. Not important. You go wait for me, I’ll be right—” My arm was seized in a vise-like grip. Meredith’s face was as black as thunder. “Don’t know me?” “Leo, I casually mentioned I wanted a good luck charm from that ridiculously hard-to-reach monastery on Mount Astor, and you climbed thousands of steps to get it for me. I said I was craving a pastry from Le Renard, and you got up at four in the morning to drive to the other side of the city and beg the owner to open early for you. I even made you get on your knees and polish Spencer’s shoes, and you agreed without a second thought. You said you would die for me, that you’d do anything I asked.” “You love me that much, and now you’re standing here, telling some random woman you don’t know me?” 9 A moment ago, she was just an annoying insect I wanted to swat away. But hearing her say those things—using another man’s devotion as a weapon in an argument—disgusted me to my core. She had no right. My playful demeanor vanished. I looked at Sloane and spoke seriously. “Go back inside.” Then I turned and stepped out into the hallway, pulling the door partially shut behind me. “Let’s talk.” Perhaps startled by the sudden coldness in my voice, Meredith released my arm, though her eyes were still sharp with anger. “Who is she? Why is she in your apartment? Don’t you think you owe me an explanation?” “Fine. I’ll explain.” I leaned against the door, my eyes locked on hers. “Have you ever heard of transmigration? Body-snatching? Demonic possession?” I paused, giving her a moment to process before continuing. “I am not your boyfriend. I’m a soul from another world, occupying this body. The body’s original owner is no longer in this world. This place was never his home to begin with; he’s returned to where he belongs. As far as you’re concerned, he’s dead. His soul is gone. You will never find him again.” “Understand?” Meredith stared at me, blankly at first. Then a short, sharp laugh escaped her lips. “Leo, you’ll really make up any excuse to cheat on me, won’t you? Do you hear yourself? Does any of that sound remotely believable?” “No. But it’s the truth.” Once you’ve crossed universes, the concept of ‘believable’ kind of goes out the window. “If you’re going to lie, at least make it a good one! Do you think this is some kind of fantasy novel?!” Her voice rose, echoing in the quiet hallway. I rubbed my ear, my expression flat. “Don’t get hysterical. I’m just stating the facts.” “Don’t you think I’ve changed? You said it yourself: the old Leo did whatever you said. But look at me. Since last night, have I been anything but disgusted by you? Can’t you tell the difference between a lover’s pout and genuine, deep-seated revulsion?” Meredith’s face slowly went rigid. “And another thing. Leo—the original owner of this body—was never in love with you. You thought he was hopelessly devoted, that he’d move heaven and earth for you. That was never about you. He was just completing tasks.” “He felt nothing for you. What you saw as undying love was, to him, a series of cold, impersonal objectives on a checklist.” “No matter how humiliating, how degrading, as long as he could do it, none of it mattered. To him, those hardships were a gift from God.” “Because once he completed your 100 tasks, the woman he loved in his own world would wake from her coma. He could go back to her, and they could live out the rest of their lives together.” “And you? You were just a supporting character in a dream he was having. And who remembers every face they see in a dream?” Meredith was silent. She searched my face, desperately looking for any flicker of deceit, any sign that I was lying. But slowly, her lips pressed into a thin, hard line. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. I don’t believe you.” “You’re just saying this because of that woman. What did she do to you? What kind of poison did she feed you to make you say these things?” She was still questioning me, but the conviction in her voice was gone. Every word I spoke was a hammer blow against the walls she’d built around herself. “Fine. You don’t believe me.” “Let me ask you this. You claim he loved you. Did he ever once, voluntarily, show you any affection? Did you ever hear him say the words ‘I love you’?” Meredith’s pupils contracted sharply. 10 The System told me the original Leo was one of life’s unlucky ones. His parents died when he was young. Relatives kept their distance; no one wanted to take him in. He grew up in an orphanage, where he had one friend, a girl he’d known his whole life. They scraped by together, sharing leftover food, and against all odds, they fell in love and planned a future. Then a car accident took her from him. The System said that when its colleague found Leo, he was standing on a bridge, his face devoid of all expression, about to jump. When he learned he could go to another world and bring his love back to life, he was ecstatic. He would have done anything. It wasn’t just about completing tasks; he would have traded his life for hers in a heartbeat. So for him, Meredith’s demands—things that would be soul-crushing for any normal person—were barely an inconvenience. Buying her pastries at 4 a.m.? He’d been forced to stand outside all night in the cold at the orphanage as punishment. Kneeling to polish Spencer’s shoes? He’d knelt on the floor and eaten scraps others had thrown away. Even being mocked as Meredith’s pathetic lapdog, being bullied and slandered by her friends—he endured it all with a genuine, heartfelt joy. Because every insult, every humiliation, brought him one step closer to the day his love would wake up. Meredith stood before me, stunned and speechless. “Finished reminiscing? Does any of that ring a bell?” Meredith stammered, “He was just… shy. He wasn’t good at expressing himself…” “Okay, let’s say he was shy. I’ll ask you another question. Did he ever let you touch him?” More silence. “Physical attraction, real desire, is an urge. It’s an uncontrollable need to be close, to touch, to share every little moment of your day, every meal you eat.” “Think back. Did Leo ever once initiate holding your hand? A hug? A kiss? Any kind of intimacy?” “Now, scroll through your text history. Besides responding to your demands, did he ever once reach out to you to share anything about his life?” I’d seen the chat logs. The original Leo had never even sent Meredith a “good morning” or “good night” text. Meredith’s face was ashen. She pulled out her phone, her thumb swiping frantically across the screen. The more she scrolled, the more panicked her expression became. “Impossible… I don’t believe it. You have to be lying.” “If he didn’t love me, why would he agree to be my boyfriend?!” I scoffed. “All he did was agree. He nodded his head and completed another task. Why wouldn’t he?” “You keep saying you don’t believe me, but haven’t you noticed? You’re already referring to him as ‘he,’ not as me.” “Your subconscious already accepts it. You’re just too stubborn to admit it.” “So, I hope you won’t come looking for me again. Instead of wasting your time harassing me, maybe you should use it to mourn the man who never loved you in the first place.” Meredith’s carefully constructed composure finally cracked. Her eyes lost focus, a flicker of terror in their depths. I’d said my piece. I turned, went back inside, and closed the door, shutting out her lost and bewildered gaze. 11 I leaned against the back of the door and took a deep breath. Don’t get angry. Don’t get angry. Wasting my energy on a toxic narcissist wasn’t worth it. Besides, there was a goddess in my bedroom. I slapped my cheeks a few times, plastered a brilliant smile on my face, and walked back into the room. Sloane was still sitting in the armchair, her legs crossed, her head propped on one hand. Her eyes, filled with an amused curiosity, followed me as I entered. “All done?” “Done. So done. She’s a nobody, a piece of static. Don’t even give her a second thought. You’re the one who matters to me.” “Now, let’s get back to our previous conversation. Will you be my little kitten? You’ll never have to work at The Platinum Club again. I’ll give you this much a month.” I held up ten fingers. “A hundred thousand. Is that enough?” Sloane narrowed her eyes, a soft, almost imperceptible laugh humming in her throat. What was that? Not enough? I’d never been a sugar daddy before; I had no idea what the going rate was. “Um… if that’s too low, the price is negotiable.” As long as it wasn’t completely insane, I could probably swing it. Sloane uncrossed her legs, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees, bringing her closer to me. “I’d heard that the notoriously difficult heiress of the Vance family had a hopelessly devoted suitor, a man willing to die for her. A true romantic legend. But seeing you today, it seems the rumors were a bit off, wouldn’t you say?” What? Now it was my turn to be stunned. Sloane’s lips quirked into a half-smile. “Mr. Pierce, a word of advice. The next time you bring a woman home, you might want to do a little research first. You never know if you’re bringing home a kitten… or a tiger that eats men for breakfast.” After dropping that cryptic bombshell, she stood, straightened the collar of her jacket, and with a polite, “Excuse me,” she walked out of my apartment with the posture of a queen. It wasn’t until the front door clicked shut that I snapped out of my daze. My gut told me there was much more to her than met the eye.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394329”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

“My husband was keeping a girl. She was young, fresh, and uninhibited in bed, giving him experiences he’d never had before. He’d remind her to take her pill, and she’d pout, joking that she wanted to have his baby. He would warn her, dead serious, that if she ever got pregnant, she’d get an abortion and a goodbye. He would only allow his wife to bear his children. It sounds almost romantic, in a twisted way. So, I told him: “”I’m pregnant.”” He just fell silent. Because we hadn’t slept together in five years. 1 “I cheated on you.” I expected Harris to be completely unfazed, to ask me with a smirk if I’d had a good time. Instead, his brow furrowed. He stared at me for a long moment, saying nothing. Did he not believe me? Oh, right. I’d tried this bluff once before, five years ago. The hatred in my heart had been a living thing back then, but at the last possible second, a sliver of clarity broke through. Ruining myself just to get back at him wasn’t worth it. I pushed Leo, Harris’s best friend, away and got out of the bed. Still, I let my malice guide me. I covered my skin in marks, went home, and told Harris I’d had an affair. “Let’s get a divorce,” I’d said. For a split second, his eyes turned red. But that was the extent of it. The moment I found out about his affair, the elegant, composed woman I was supposed to be shattered. A panic attack seized me, my breath coming in ragged gasps, my fingers curling into rigid claws. I thought I was dying. Harris, ever the pragmatist, calmly found a paper bag for me to breathe into. He calmly explained. He calmly made promises. “Sloane, we’ve been married for five years. I’m a man with needs. Anyone would get tired of eating the same meal every day.” “I’m under a lot of pressure at work. Sometimes I need an outlet for my stress, but you’re my wife. I have to respect you.” “I can give you everything you want. Everything except total physical fidelity.” I looked at him through a blur of tears, the question burning on my tongue. Do you still love me? But I didn’t say a word. He was sleeping with someone else. Love was no longer part of the equation. 2 I washed my face and demanded a divorce. Harris wasn’t surprised. He told me to calm down, to think it through. Of course. Since I’d discovered his infidelity, he had remained perfectly composed, managing the situation with unnerving stability. Even after I slapped him with all the strength I could muster, his gaze remained steady, as if he were watching a child throw a tantrum. When I raised my hand to strike him again, he caught my wrist easily. The chasm of strength between a man and a woman was absolute; I couldn’t break free. Instead, he pulled me into an embrace that had once been my sanctuary but now felt like a cage of ice. He urged me to reconsider. My parents urged me. Even my best friend urged me. And why wouldn’t they? In everyone’s eyes, including my own parents’, I was no longer in Harris’s league. I had simply gotten in on the ground floor, weathering the toughest years of his startup. I was an early-stage venture capitalist who had hit the jackpot. He was a titan of industry, and I was reaping the rewards. A divorce? The sunk costs were too high. The public humiliation would be unbearable. And when three people tell you you’re a tiger, you start to believe it. Back then, I hesitated. To win me back, Harris spared no expense. Gifts arrived in a relentless stream. Beyond the jewelry, he bought me a yacht and a private island in the San Juans, complete with a glass-walled villa and a full-time caretaker. He even cleared his schedule for two weeks to sail there with me, just the two of us. We watched the sunrise over the Pacific and ate sashimi from tuna caught an hour before. We walked along the beach, the sky painted with the brilliant colors of sunset. He was more attentive, more tender than he had been even when we first started dating. For a moment, I allowed myself to be swayed. Until the dead of night. Harris emerged from the shower, his warm body, still damp, wrapping around me from behind. My mind, a traitor, instantly flashed to the chat logs on his phone. The girl’s endless stream of flirty messages and life updates, which he never responded to. But then she’d asked him to pick a style of lingerie for her to wear. He had replied. Just one word. A claw seemed to seize my heart, squeezing tighter and tighter. “Do you kiss her when you’re with her?” I asked, my voice cold. Harris’s hand on my waist went rigid. I tore his arm away and ran to the bathroom. The exquisite dinner we’d shared ended up as a pool of sick in the toilet bowl. The two-week vacation was over in two days. 3 After that, I became a detective, obsessively searching his clothes for a clue, a trace of her. A smudge of lipstick on a collar, the lingering scent of perfume. Nothing. His shirts were always pristine. I found nothing. But the string inside me, pulled tighter and tighter with each late night he came home, finally snapped. After one particularly vicious, hysterical fight, he resorted to the silent treatment. The moment I realized I had become a shrew, a bitter nag, panic set in. And then, the cruelest irony of all: I discovered I was pregnant. This should have been the happiest news of my life. I wanted a child more than anything, but we’d struggled for years. We went to clinics. There was nothing wrong with me, nothing wrong with him. It just never happened. We had started the IVF conversation. I’d already endured hundreds of injections, my body a pincushion of failed hope. In the emotional wreckage of his affair, I had been bleeding intermittently, too consumed by misery to pay it much mind. I never imagined that this little life I had longed for would choose to arrive now, when all my hope was gone. I didn’t tell Harris. I went to the clinic alone and had the abortion. When I woke up from the anesthesia, I felt a profound, soul-crushing emptiness. That’s when Harris appeared. His face was pale, his eyes filled with a deep, cutting disappointment. “Sloane, is this your revenge? The baby was innocent…” “That’s why I couldn’t bring it into this world. How tragic is a child who isn’t born into love?” “Harris, let’s get a divorce,” I repeated, my voice flat and numb. “No. No divorce.” His resolve was even stronger than mine. 4 Five years passed. We were strangers living under the same roof. The women in Harris’s life came and went. I heard the latest one was a student from a prestigious dance academy. A girl full of life, lithe and supple. He must have really liked her; she’d been around for over six months. The last time I saw him was a few days ago. The circumstances were pure melodrama. A fender-bender on the freeway. His car rear-ended mine. He was clearly taking the girl for a day trip, maybe to the coast. She wore a floral sundress and a wide-brimmed straw hat. She didn’t know who I was. The moment she got out of the car, she rushed over, her face a mask of panic. “Ma’am, I am so, so sorry. It was my fault. I was trying to feed my boyfriend something—he gets an upset stomach if he skips breakfast, and we were in such a rush this morning… I distracted him.” She bit her lip, glossed in a shade of cherry pink. Her cheeks were flushed with a healthy, youthful glow. She was so vibrant, so beautiful, it was hard to look away. “It’s fine,” I said. My gaze shifted to Harris, and I offered him a small smile. “Our tenth anniversary is next Thursday. We should have dinner.” Harris’s expression was unreadable, but the girl’s face went white. She glanced at me, then back at him, her body instinctively pressing closer to his for support. A perfect picture of damsel in distress. Harris, however, subtly shifted away from her touch. “I’ll drive you home,” he said to me. “No need. I have somewhere to be. I wouldn’t want to ruin your plans.” The impact hadn’t been severe, but the seatbelt had jerked tight across my stomach. I was worried about the baby. I got back in my car. Just as I was about to shut the door, a hand stopped me. A shadow fell over me. “Sloane,” Harris said, his voice low as he looked down at me, his eyes dark and turbulent. “Is there nothing you want to say to me?” “Like what?” I replied, my tone laced with irony. “Did you expect me to fly into a rage and attack your mistress?” I let out a short, humorless laugh. “Don’t mistake me for someone so naive. The amount of money you give me is more than enough to buy your peace and quiet.” “Alright, then. We’ll talk next week.” Harris didn’t move. He kept his hand on the door, his gaze locked on mine, a storm brewing beneath the surface. I met his stare calmly. Finally, he pulled his hand away. I hit the gas, merging back into traffic. At the next exit, I took it, leaving the congested freeway behind. The road ahead opened up, wide and clear. Five years of marriage to Harris, and I could never get pregnant. Once I changed the father, it turned out to be the easiest thing in the world. It seemed fate had decided it for us. Our paths were always meant to diverge.”

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1 Camryn swapped my fate with a man dying of cancer, leaving me with seven days to live. She gripped my hand, her voice a placating murmur. “Ethan is so young, Jon. I can’t just watch him die. It’s just a temporary switch. You’re strong, you can take it. I’ll find an experimental treatment to save you, I promise.” I pulled my hand away. I couldn’t wait. “I’m a time traveler,” I told her, my voice flat. “If my body’s life force becomes unstable, the temporal rift will pull me back.” Her face hardened. “Not this again! You pull this ‘temporal rift’ nonsense every time we have a disagreement. It’s been seven years, Jon. You’re still here, aren’t you?” She told me to stop being dramatic, that she’d have news about the treatment in three days. On the first day, she married Ethan. They christened my marriage bed while I collapsed three times. On the second day, she threw a party with our friends to celebrate their union. I had twenty-four nosebleeds. On the third day, she took him to the hospital for a check-up. I was in the emergency room next door, fighting for my life. Seven years of shared struggles and triumphs, all erased by a newcomer’s smile. Camryn, this time, I’m really going home. … A delivery of 9,999 roses arrived at the farm gate. My employees buzzed with excitement. “Mr. Hayes, Ms. Vereen really loves you! She even remembered today is the farm’s fourth anniversary…” A dull ache started in my chest. I managed a faint smile. If she truly loved me, she’d know I’ve always hated flowers. My love was for the golden stalks of wheat, the simple grains that fed the hungry. Camryn called, her voice husky and languid, as if she’d just woken up. “Jon, honey, I’m so sorry. I completely forgot it’s already the fourth day. The clinic hasn’t gotten back to me about the treatment yet. Are you holding up okay?” If I told her the truth, she’d mock me, accuse me of faking it. “I’m fine,” I rasped. A sigh of relief on her end. “Good. As long as you can handle it. I’m in a conference at the hotel near the farm today, so I can’t be with you.” She hung up before I could reply, but not before I heard the sound of a man’s breathing beside her. The city’s most luxurious hotel was just a few miles from my farm. I was there making a delivery of fresh vegetables when I overheard the kitchen staff gossiping. “Ms. Vereen booked the entire hotel just for Mr. Thorne’s birthday. Did you see the ninety-thousand roses in the ballroom? A grand declaration of her love…” “I know, right? Exactly 90,000, not one more, not one less. I heard they picked out all the slightly imperfect ones and sent them to that nearby farm…” “Wait, isn’t Mr. Hayes the owner of that farm? Did you get them? Ms. Vereen said the rejects could be used as animal feed…” I smiled and nodded, but my body was trembling uncontrollably. Making a hasty excuse, I fled to the hotel lobby, tears finally streaming down my face. Around the corner, I heard Camryn’s voice drifting from an elevator. “Camryn, you actually found a way to swap their fates. But what about Jon? Hasn’t he been giving you trouble?” Camryn, touching up her lipstick, replied with a careless shrug. “Trouble? What leverage does he have? He’s a handsome orphan with no family to back him up. The farm was a gift from me. Every fight for the past seven years, he’s tried to scare me with that ridiculous time-travel story. And what happened in the end? He’s still right where I want him, too pathetic to leave.” Her friends gave her a thumbs-up. “Brilliant, Camryn. Find a guy with no connections. He wouldn’t even dare break up with you.” Another friend sounded puzzled. “But I thought Ethan could last another six months with chemo. The Mystic said Jon only has seven days. Why put Jon through it at all?” The elevator doors opened, and Camryn’s voice grew faint, but I heard her reply clearly. “I can’t bear to see Ethan suffer through chemo, losing his hair, getting so frail. As for Jon… he’s used to hardship. A little more won’t kill him. I’ll find a way to keep him hanging on.” In the stairwell, I couldn’t stifle the coppery tide of blood that surged up my throat. I lay there, unconscious, for the rest of the night. Day five had arrived. 2 I woke to a body screaming in pain and a phone ringing incessantly. The moment I answered, Camryn’s frantic voice shot through the line. “Jon, get over here, now!” I thought something had happened to her. But when I arrived, I found Ethan slumped against her shoulder while she frowned at a thermometer. “97.7 degrees!” He didn’t have a fever, but Ethan was whining. “Camryn, I feel awful. My normal temperature is 97.2. Even a slight increase means I’m getting sick.” Camryn placed a cooling patch on his forehead before looking up at me. “Jon, the Mystic left a book of instructions. If Ethan gets a fever, it means the fate-bond is unstable.” She looked at me, her expression pained, but she said the words anyway. “There’s a remedy. It… it requires a small piece of your flesh for a tonic.” Her voice was a whisper. “Just a tiny piece. I’ll take it from somewhere hidden, it won’t even leave a scar. And you know those new high-yield grain seeds you wanted? The ones that can grow anywhere? I can get them for you…” So, she always knew what I wanted. I looked down at the hand she was holding. “Camryn, do you feel anything?” She looked confused. “What do you mean?” I had been vomiting blood on my way over. A kind pharmacist took my temperature. 105.8. Her cool hand was wrapped around mine, yet she felt nothing of the fire consuming me. I smiled faintly and held out my arm. “Which part do you want? Go on. Cut it.” If I stood any longer, I would collapse, and she would just accuse me of putting on a show. The knife in Camryn’s hand trembled. There was more sweat on her brow than on mine, the person about to be cut. As the pain lanced through me, my mind drifted back. When I first met her, her company had gone bankrupt. We were starting over, huddled together for warmth in a damp basement apartment. I’d gotten a fever, and she’d cried all night, swearing she’d never let me suffer again. Later, when she rebuilt her empire, she forbade me from doing any work that involved knives. She said my body was as precious as her own heart. Now, that same woman held the blade that sliced into my flesh. Just as she was finishing, Ethan suddenly “stumbled,” falling against her. The knife, which had just left my skin, plunged deep into the wound again. Blood gushed out. The pain was so intense I nearly blacked out, stumbling back against a table to stay upright. Camryn didn’t even see me. She was already wrapping her arms around Ethan, her voice thick with concern. He started complaining he was cold. She consulted the Mystic’s book again, which said he needed to be immersed in warm water. She personally helped him into the bathtub in our master bathroom—our marriage bathroom. Only then did she turn back to bandage my arm. Then she slipped out of her clothes and got into the tub with him, holding him close. She handled him with the tender care one would reserve for a priceless, fragile treasure. My legs finally gave out. I collapsed onto our bed. Through the open door, Camryn spoke to me, her eyes never leaving Ethan. “You know, Jon,” she said softly, “looking at him, it’s like seeing you when we first met. You were like a lost, wounded little rabbit, so helpless. He needs me, just like you did. You understand, don’t you?” Blood seeped through my bandage. I forced a weak, pained smile. “Yes. I understand.” When I first arrived in this time, everything terrified me. I was like a rabbit, yes. But I never stole the only carrot from another rabbit’s paws. Seeing me nod, she relaxed. “You’ve been through a lot today, Jon. Go home and get some rest.” Go home? This was our home. The sanctuary we designed together, heads bent over blueprints and fabric swatches for countless nights. We had become strangers. As I closed the door behind me, I paused. “Camryn… thank you.” Thank you for spending your last pennies on fever medicine and soup for me when I first arrived. Thank you for seven years of warmth and full meals. And thank you for showing me that even in this era of monogamy, love can be divided. 3 I thought the pound of flesh was my final goodbye. But after Ethan recovered, he insisted on coming to the farm to “thank me.” He made me a “nourishing, blood-replenishing soup” in the farm’s kitchen. As I reached for the bowl, his face twisted into a sneer. He let it drop, shattering it on the floor. “Jon,” he said, his voice low, “we’re both rabbits. But I’m the one who’s going to win this race.” Before I could even mourn the wasted soup, Ethan was on the ground. He let out a cry, grabbed a pair of shears from a vegetable basket, and started cutting himself. “Brother Jon, it’s my fault I’m sick, my fault you had to get hurt! I’m sorry! Please don’t hit me! I’ll give the flesh back to you!” Camryn, who had been outside on a business call, burst into the kitchen. She shoved me aside and gathered Ethan into her arms. Ethan’s eyes were red with tears. “Camryn, I just wanted to thank him, but I think… I think he resents me.” The older women who worked on the farm rushed to my defense. “Ms. Vereen, Mr. Hayes would never do something like that! We have security cameras, we can check the footage. It must be a misunderstanding.” Camryn nodded, her face grim. Unfortunately, the security system had “unexpectedly malfunctioned” right after they arrived. She shot me a look of pure ice. “Jon. Apologize to Ethan.” When my staff tried to intervene again, she roared, “Anyone who says another word is fired. And you’ll never work in this town again.” These women were from poor families. They couldn’t lose their jobs. Facing the sniveling, triumphant Ethan, I bowed low. “Mr. Thorne. I am sorry.” I held the bow for nearly a full minute, my body shaking, on the verge of collapse, before he finally spoke. “It’s okay, Brother Jon. As long as you know you were wrong, you don’t have to apologize…” Satisfied, Ethan went off to “tour the farm.” Camryn’s tone softened slightly. She handed me a small bag. “Jon, these are the seeds you wanted. This strain can survive even in the most extreme conditions. You’ve learned so much over the years, you can grow good crops even without special seeds, but…” I shook my head. She didn’t understand. The place I came from… “extreme conditions” was an understatement. Still, I thanked her sincerely. There was nothing else left to say to her. I turned to leave, but one of the old farmhands ran up, panicked. “Mr. Hayes, you have to come quick! Mr. Thorne saw a wild rabbit in the fields… he set the whole farm on fire trying to catch it!” It was harvest season. That grain was meant for donation to impoverished regions. I sprinted outside. The sight of the inferno turned my blood to ice. My mind snapped back to reality, and I grabbed a hose, yelling for everyone to help. Camryn grabbed my arm, pulling me back. Her voice was cold steel. “What is wrong with you? Were you born starving? It’s just some grain! Are you going to get everyone killed over it?” The fire burned, and my heart bled with it. She didn’t know. I had been starving to death when I traveled through time. My homeland had suffered a three-year drought, and when the rains finally came, so did war. I had seen men sell their wives for a bag of grain. I had seen the starving eat the dead. I had witnessed every horror humanity was capable of, all for a mouthful of food. She was right. I was used to hardship. That’s why I didn’t care that she’d swapped my fate and left me to die. But I could not accept watching life-saving food burn to ash before my eyes. I turned and punched Ethan square in the jaw. Camryn exploded. “Jon! Who the hell gave you permission to touch him?” On the spot, she declared she was revoking her gift of the farm and kicking me out. She threw the tattered clothes I’d arrived in seven years ago at my feet. “Don’t you forget who saved you,” she hissed. “Maybe a little hardship will remind you of your place.” When she first found me, I was filthy and dressed in rags that hung off me like a shredded bedsheet. But back then, her eyes had held stars when she looked at me. Now, I was back where I started. I found myself in the same dark alley where I first appeared. Several pairs of predatory eyes glinted in the shadows. I ducked my head, intending to find a police station, but the men—scarred and tattooed—blocked my path. Their words froze me in place. 4 “So this is the guy Ms. Vereen was talking about? He looks like he needs a lesson.” “Hey, pretty boy. The boss lady said you got too big for your britches after all these years. She sent us to teach you some manners.” “Tonight, she said you’re all ours to play with. Hahaha.” Darkness fell like a shroud as they descended on me like beasts. All I remember is the rain of fists, the silent screams caught in my throat, and my body shaking uncontrollably. I faded in and out of consciousness, waking only to more pain. Dimly, I felt a finger check for my breath. “Shit, is he dead?” “Why is he so hot? His body’s on fire. Let’s get out of here.” When I woke again, it was the morning of the seventh day. My body was a furnace. I staggered to a public park restroom and washed the blood from my skin. The icy water was a brief relief. Leaning against the wall, I stumbled out into the morning light. Camryn’s luxury car was parked at the curb. I recognized the license plate. ETHN LUV. Ethan, I love you. She was leaning against it, watching me. Ethan was asleep in the back, covered with her designer coat. Seeing my battered state, she held out a hand. “Tough night? Have you learned your lesson?” Her fingers were long and clean. The same fingers that had pulled me from the mire so many times. But this time, she was the one who had pushed me into the abyss. I nodded, terrified, my knees buckling. I didn’t dare take her hand. I frantically tried to wipe the grime and blood from my clothes, from my skin. But how can you wipe away bruises and broken bones? Camryn frowned at my pathetic attempts. “You’re just a little dirty. When have I ever cared about that?” She smiled, pulled me to my feet, and pushed me into the car. “Jon, someone sent an experimental cure. You’re going to be saved.” She took me back to the house. On the table were two vials of medicine. I was confused, but she touched her nose, looking away. “Ethan’s cancer cells have started growing back. The Mystic said your life force will stop working for him after tonight. He’ll be sick again, the cancer will return.” A cold dread washed over me. If I was going to be fine after tonight anyway, why had she brought me back? She suddenly grabbed my hands, her voice pleading. “Jon, this drug has never been tested on a living person. But since your body is already fighting the cancer… could you test its effectiveness for Ethan? Please?” Her words were a poison that dissolved my heart. I swallowed the lump in my throat, my voice trembling. “If I die from this… will you have any regrets?” She looked surprised. “Die? It’s just a test, how could you die?” If there was no risk, why not just give it to Ethan? I didn’t ask. I just stated my condition. “Can you get me the cultivation method for those seeds?” She let out a breath, a confident smile returning. “I knew you’d need it. I got it for you already.” A single sheet of paper. I memorized it in seconds. When I looked up, any last flicker of feeling I had for her was gone. “Do it, Camryn. Give me the drug.” As the needle slid into my arm and the medicine flowed into my veins, color returned to my face. She turned to Ethan, hugging him and crying out with joy. “Ethan! You’re saved! Your disease can be cured!” The entire house erupted in cheers. I was an outsider at my own execution. Unseen by Camryn, I slipped out the door. I returned to the park where my journey in this world began. I held on until midnight, when my original life force flooded back into my body. But just as I felt myself become whole again, a column of light enveloped me from above. Clutching the precious seeds to my chest, I vanished from this beautiful, cruel era. After midnight, Camryn injected the second vial into Ethan. Watching him sleep peacefully, she finally felt at ease. But then a servant interrupted her. “Ms. Vereen, there are two people at the door. They call themselves the Temporal Bureau. They’re asking to see Mr. Hayes.” 5 Camryn went downstairs, frowning. A strangely dressed man and woman were waiting in her foyer. The woman stepped forward excitedly. “Ms. Vereen, our records show that your partner, Mr. Jon Hayes, is not native to this timeline. Could you please tell us where he is? We need to see him.” The man handed her a business card. The texture was rough, the job title something she’d never seen. Camryn let out a short, mocking laugh. “The Temporal Bureau? Pfft. Jon’s really stepped up his game, hiring actors now?” The woman tried to explain. “We’re not actors, Ms. Vereen. Seven years ago, a temporal rift opened, and Mr. Hayes was accidentally displaced into this era. It’s taken us this long to locate him.” Camryn rubbed her temples, her patience wearing thin. “How much is he paying you? I’ll double it. Now get out. And tell Jon I’ll see him later, but he needs to stop with these ridiculous fantasies.” The two were escorted out into the misty dawn. As Camryn turned to go back inside, the man called out. “Camryn Vereen! It’s clear Mr. Hayes told you about his origins. You were willing to believe a Mystic could swap human fates, so why is it so hard to believe Jon is a time traveler? Do you even know him? Do you know where he came from? Do you have any idea the kind of suffering he endured?” Camryn stopped, her eyes turning to ice as she looked back. “Suffering? And I haven’t been good to him all these years? He uses that story to manipulate me, to get more out of me. Ethan has a terminal illness, and instead of showing a shred of compassion, Jon gets jealous and tells lies, all because he knows I care about him. Now get lost, you con artists, before I have you arrested.” The heavy doors of the Vereen estate slammed shut. The woman looked up at the man. “Brother, she doesn’t believe us. How are we going to find Mr. Hayes?” The man smiled faintly. “Let’s go. Jon isn’t here anymore. As for Camryn Vereen… she’ll be begging for our help soon enough.” … Two days later, medical scans confirmed that Ethan was completely cancer-free. Camryn held a press conference. A reporter asked, “Ms. Vereen, you must have moved mountains to achieve Mr. Thorne’s miraculous recovery. We heard a rumor that you even employed a Mystic to swap his fate with someone else to buy him time?” Camryn raised an eyebrow and denied it coolly. “That’s absurd. That was just a story I told Ethan to keep his spirits up, to stop him from despairing.” She would never let the world know she had sacrificed me. But just as she thought the matter was settled, the Mystic himself stormed into the press conference. He pointed a trembling finger at her. “Ungrateful woman!” he roared. “You can deny my power, but it’s a pity for the boy who gave his fate to you. You will never see him again!” Camryn shot to her feet. “What are you talking about? What do you mean, ‘gave his fate to me’?” The Mystic sneered. “Ms. Vereen, did you really think this was the first time I’ve performed a fate-swap for your family?”

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At the 70th birthday gala for Mr. Sterling, the wealthiest man in Crestwood, I casually lit a cigarette. My wife’s assistant slapped it from my hand with a furious crack. “Nina, for God’s sake!” he cried, turning to my wife. “This is Mr. Sterling’s gala! How could Julian do something so classless?” His voice was a stage whisper, loud enough to turn heads. “If you don’t take a drag for five minutes, you won’t die. But if people find out this crude nobody who crashed the party is your husband, how will you ever show your face again?” My wife, Nina Bouquet, shot me a look of pure disgust. “Go ahead, smoke yourself to death for all I care,” she hissed. “When will you ever be as considerate as Caleb? If you cost me this investment tonight, I swear, we’re done!” I let out a cold laugh and turned my gaze to the man of the hour. “Grandfather,” I said, my voice dripping with irony, “since when is smoking at your birthday party a capital offense?” 1 It was the 60th birthday of Crestwood’s most powerful man, yet my wife, who had claimed to be on a business trip, was currently gliding through the crowd with her assistant, Caleb Hale. They were arm in arm, looking for all the world like a devoted couple. I felt a knot of irritation tighten in my gut and retreated to a quiet corner, pulling out a cigarette. I lit it, but before it could even touch my lips, Caleb’s hand shot out and knocked it to the floor. “Julian! How can you smoke at an event this important? Have you no respect?” He raised his voice, a deliberate act that drew a constellation of curious eyes to our secluded corner. He even shifted his body slightly, ensuring everyone got a clear view of my face. “This is exactly why Nina never wants to take you anywhere,” he continued, his tone dripping with condescension. “You’re an embarrassment. You’re lucky you even got in here, but for God’s sake, don’t let anyone know you’re her husband.” For someone who supposedly didn’t want my identity known, he was making a hell of a scene. Caleb, in his desperate attempt to cause trouble, was the real clown here. Surely Nina, a veteran of these events, could see that. But when I looked at her, her eyes were filled with nothing but contempt. “Did you really have to light that cigarette?” she demanded. “Puffing away at home is one thing, but do you have to be so self-absorbed here, making a spectacle of us? Are you deliberately trying to make people look down on me? To ruin my chances of securing an investment?” You’d think I’d committed some unforgivable crime, not just tried to have a smoke. Emboldened by Nina’s support, Caleb’s smirk grew wider. “You should get out of here before you really piss off Mr. Sterling and get thrown out. That would be even more humiliating. If you have no shame for yourself, at least think of Nina.” I calmly took out another cigarette, lit it, and looked him straight in the eye. “Is there a rule against smoking here? The host hasn’t said a word. Who are you to tell me to leave?” My direct challenge wiped the smirk off his face, leaving him flushed with embarrassment. Nina, seeing her precious assistant wounded, shot me a venomous glare. “Put that out. Now.” I not only refused, I took a long, slow drag and signaled a passing waiter for an ashtray. Nina was incandescent with rage. “Julian! Pick your battles! This is not the time or place to defy me!” A bitter laugh escaped me. “I’m defying you? Your ‘good’ assistant is the one picking a fight over nothing, putting on a show for everyone.” Her ability to twist reality was truly something to behold. Her face hardened. “Fine. Smoke. I hope you choke on it.” But Caleb, not content with the scene he’d already made, wasn’t finished. He strode toward Mr. Sterling, who stood at the center of the room, carrying a gift and an air of self-righteous indignation. “Mr. Sterling, my deepest apologies,” he began, his voice ringing with false sincerity. “Nina’s husband… well, he doesn’t seem to understand basic etiquette. Please don’t let his behavior reflect on her.” He offered the gift. “This is a small token from Nina and me. Many happy returns!” He was trying to use me as a stepping stone. I couldn’t help but scoff. “An assistant like you can only get attention with cheap tricks like this.” 2 Caleb’s expression froze for a second before melting into a look of profound hurt. “Julian, Nina came here tonight hoping to make connections. Why must you be so determined to sabotage her?” He turned to Nina, his voice soft with pity. “Nina, you deserve so much better than this.” Then back to me, “Look, Julian, you can treat me however you want in private, but please, for Nina’s sake, show some class.” I had to laugh. The performance was almost convincing. Nina, completely taken in, looked at me with renewed fury. “Julian, Caleb is humbling himself for you. What more do you want? Mr. Sterling already looks displeased. Are you going to keep smoking until my chances for investment are completely ruined?” I glanced at Mr. Sterling. He did look displeased, but I knew for a fact it had nothing to do with my cigarette. Ignoring Nina and Caleb, I walked over to the old man and offered him a smoke from my pack. “This is a pretty good brand. Care to try one, sir?” Mr. Sterling’s stern expression softened, his eyes twinkling with affection. “I’m more of a cigar man, but you go right ahead, son. Smoke if you want to.” I grinned. “You smoke cigars every day. Why not switch it up for a change?” Before he could answer, a splash of cold liquid hit my face. Nina had thrown her wine at me. “Julian! When are you going to stop embarrassing yourself?” she shrieked. “You’re an unemployed nobody who probably only got in here by using my name! Who do you think you are? Mr. Sterling is a gentleman, that’s the only reason he’s tolerating you. And now you’re trying to force your cheap cigarettes on him? Apologize! Apologize to him right now!” The red wine dripped down my face, leaving a dark crimson stain on my shirt. A stain that would never wash out. Just like the one now permanently etched onto our marriage. Caleb seized the opportunity to shove me, kicking the back of my knee and nearly forcing me to the ground. “Everyone’s watching, Julian! Just apologize!” I shoved him back, my voice low and dangerous. “Don’t touch me.” He lunged again, aiming another kick at my legs, this one harder. That was the last straw. I grabbed the front of his collar and my fist connected with his jaw. A collective gasp rippled through the onlookers. All I could hear was Nina’s voice in my head—you’re embarrassing me, you’re costing me my investment. She seemed to have forgotten that the only reason her company was still afloat was because of the investments I had secured. Even the invitation that got her into this very gala had come from me. I had wanted us to come together. Instead, she’d lied about a business trip, brought her assistant, and let him provoke me. Caleb’s cheek swelled instantly, and a tooth clattered to the floor. Nina screamed. She launched herself at me, kicking and clawing at my hands, prying them off Caleb. Caleb clutched his face, a venomous glint in his eyes. “It’s okay, Nina,” he mumbled through his swelling lips. “If this is what it takes for him to blow off steam and not ruin your deal, then it’s fine.” Tears of pity streamed down Nina’s face. “Don’t be ridiculous! As if I’d let you get hurt for some investment!” She whirled on me, her voice a raw scream. “Get out, Julian! Get out, or I’m divorcing you!” 3 I stared at her, stunned. That she would throw our marriage away for Caleb, here, in front of everyone. The disappointment must have been written all over my face. Nina sneered. “For years, you’ve lorded those initial investments over me, acting like you’re king of the world! But let’s be honest, they invested because of my potential, my talent. What does it have to do with you? You don’t even set foot in the company!” Her words were like shards of ice in my heart. When I first brought her that funding, she had been so moved she’d sworn she would never let me down. Now, ever since Caleb became her assistant, that promise had become a bitter joke. A sour taste filled my mouth. “Fine,” I said, each word heavy. “Let’s get a divorce.” She seemed taken aback that I’d agreed so readily, but she doubled down. “Don’t think I’m bluffing, Julian! Caleb works his heart out for the company. And you? You act like a lunatic, starting fights and attacking him! I am so disappointed in you.” Caleb, looking deeply moved, spoke up as if reluctant. “Nina, working for you is an honor. There’s something… something I have to say. The real reason Julian is making this scene is to sabotage you. He’s trying to impress his little mistress from your rival’s company!” Nina’s face twisted in shock, then rage. “Julian! You’re cheating on me?” She grabbed a plate from a nearby table and hurled it at me. “How dare you! I work myself to the bone for our family, and you’re siding with your slut against me? Are you even human?” Caleb fanned the flames. “I knew it! How else would he get into this party? His little girlfriend must have given him an invitation just to spite you.” And just like that, based on a few baseless accusations, she believed him. The look in her eyes was murderous. Mr. Sterling’s face had grown dark. He struck the floor with his cane, his voice booming. “That’s enough! Don’t just parrot whatever you hear. Julian would never do such a thing, and I—” Caleb cut him off, pulling out his phone. “Mr. Sterling, you’ve been deceived! Julian’s little mistress is your own kept woman!” He shoved the phone forward. On the screen were several photos. One set showed a vibrant young woman laughing on Mr. Sterling’s arm. In another set, the same girl was hugging my neck, a playful grin on her face while I looked on with exasperated affection. Nina snatched the phone and slammed it against my chest. “And I actually believed you when you said she was your sister! Your ‘little sister,’ was it?” The room buzzed with scandalized whispers. Mr. Sterling, keeping a mistress young enough to be his granddaughter? And being cheated on? I looked at Nina, and the last shred of feeling I had for her withered and died. My voice came out hoarse. “Nina, I have never done anything to wrong you. And you won’t even grant me a sliver of trust.” Just then, the waiter I’d spoken to earlier returned with an ashtray, stopping short at the chaotic scene. “Mr. Miles, uh… do you still need this?” Nina’s eyes, red with fury, locked onto the ashtray. She snatched it from his hands and brought it down on my head. “I told you to stop smoking!” At the last second, Mr. Sterling stepped forward. The heavy glass ashtray crashed against his forehead with a sickening thud. Blood began to well up instantly. 4 Nina froze, her hand dropping to her side. Then, without missing a beat, she started pointing her finger at me. “Julian! You slept with Mr. Sterling’s woman, and now you deliberately hide behind him so he’d get hurt? Are you and your mistress trying to scheme your way into his fortune?” She frantically tried to dab at the blood on Mr. Sterling’s forehead. “Mr. Sterling, please, don’t be angry. I’ve already decided to divorce him. I had no idea he was capable of something so depraved. He was probably smoking in here just to provoke you.” I had never known Nina was so adept at twisting the truth, all to distance herself from me. Fearing Mr. Sterling’s wrath would cost her access to this elite circle, she shouted at me, “How dare you challenge Mr. Sterling? You’re finished in this city! You’ll never work in Crestwood again!” Caleb chimed in, feigning concern. “Julian, you’ve hurt Mr. Sterling badly. Get on your knees and apologize to him. Now!” I let out a cold, sharp laugh. “Shouldn’t you two be the ones apologizing to him?” Caleb’s face was a mask of innocence. “But you’re the one who was fooling around with his mistress, smoking at his party to insult him, and getting him injured. If it weren’t for me, Mr. Sterling would still be in the dark, thinking it was all an accident. Do you have any idea who he is? Or who you are? By dragging his name through the mud, you’re going to ruin Nina’s company!” Nina’s face was grim as she nodded in agreement. “Even though you’re still my husband, I will not let my entire company go down with you. You will explain to Mr. Sterling that this was all your doing, that my company had nothing to do with it. Then, we get a divorce, and I’ll drop the whole cheating issue. But if my business suffers because of you, I’ll make you pay!” Mr. Sterling clutched his bleeding forehead, his face pale and strained. Caleb, however, mistook his pained expression for anger directed at me. “Julian, hurry up and kneel! Any later and it won’t matter if you lick his shoes clean, it’ll be too late!” he hissed, giving me a shove. He leaned in close, his voice a triumphant whisper. “Pretending to be so close to Mr. Sterling… now that you’ve offended him, let’s see how you get out of this.” I took a long, hard look at Nina. If she hadn’t made this disastrous scene, she could have walked out of here tonight with any investment she wanted. I turned to Mr. Sterling. “Grandfather, when did you make a rule against smoking at your parties?” “And since when is my sister your ‘kept woman’?” “Someone else smashed your head open, Grandfather. Do I really need to lick your shoes and apologize for it?” I had only wanted to introduce Nina to my grandfather tonight. The guests, already shocked by the “kept woman” scandal, now stared with their eyes wide in disbelief. Nina’s gaze darted between me and Mr. Sterling, her expression flickering from confusion to dawning, horrified realization. “Why didn’t you ever tell me,” she stammered, her voice barely a whisper, “that Mr. Sterling is your grandfather?”

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I signed up for a companion app, hoping it would pair me with a special new friend. Instead, the first word she called me was “Mom.” But I’m only five. That’s okay, though. I can be a good mom. I downloaded a new smart app today. It said you could create your very own AI persona. Sounded cool. My little hands tapped away at the screen until a prompt popped up. [Create a Private Companion or a Public Profile?] What did that mean? I had no idea. Might as well go public. I waited patiently, my heart buzzing with excitement, hoping the app would give me a really special friend. Yesterday, my friend Daisy was bragging about her new pen pal from another country. Hmph. I could be way cooler than her. But when the screen lit up with the word “Mom,” I just stared, my eyes wide. I’m only five. Still, it was okay. I’m always the mom when we play house. I could be a good mom. This must be a girl who had just become an adult. She told me it was her eighteenth birthday and she was hoping for a “Happy Birthday” from her mom. “Happy birthday, my sweet daughter.” Voice-to-text. Sent. But birthdays need presents! I remembered the fancy coming-of-age parties I’d seen, and I knew I didn’t have time to prepare anything like that. So I asked her, “What do you want for a present? I can get you anything.” She hesitated for a long time before typing back timidly, “Well… could you maybe send me a pack of pads?” Oh! It was that special time for girls. I knew about that. My mom has it too, and you have to be extra gentle and take good care of yourself. I got her address and scrambled downstairs. “Maria! Maria, can you call a courier for me?” After shouting, I darted into my mom’s room and rummaged through her stash of sanitary pads. They were all in colorful packages, so I just grabbed two of each kind. Then I ran to the kitchen, yanked open a drawer, and took out some ginger-and-honey tea bags. They always make a tummy feel better. Maria, our housekeeper, watched me scurrying around, a warm smile on her face. “Lily, sweetie, what are you doing with all that?” “It’s for my daughter!” I announced happily. “It’s her birthday today!” As the words left my mouth, I remembered something crucial. Birthday cake! And KFC! KFC is my absolute favorite, but Mom and Dad always say it’s junk food, so I only get it on my birthday. That meant she had to have it too. I immediately had Maria call and place an order. She looked completely baffled, but she did it anyway. I ordered a bunch of Family Buckets and sent another message. “You can share this with your friends. Happy birthday!” Once the order was complete, I asked the courier through the app, “How is she doing?” He replied that she lived in a really rough part of town, in a tenement building, and that she looked deathly pale. I felt a pang of sympathy for her, but also a swell of joy. I had a daughter! Not a doll from a game of house, but a real, live daughter. I immediately went online and searched “how to raise a daughter.” I found out that at eighteen, she should be in college. I also saw a forum post that read: [$500 a month isn’t enough to live on.] So I sent her a transfer for $1,500. She was floored. “Why are you sending me money?” “Moms are supposed to give their daughters an allowance,” I typed back matter-of-factly. The chat bubble showed she was typing for a long, long time. Finally, a message came through. She’d sent $1,200 back. “I’m in a really tight spot right now… can I keep this for now? I promise I’ll pay you back as soon as I can.” She was so considerate! “What’s your name?” I asked. She told me her name was Chloe, and that she was an orphan who’d been working odd jobs since she turned sixteen. But because she wasn’t legally an adult, she could only find temporary gigs. She’d recently lost her job and was completely broke. I was confused. “If you don’t have money, where do you live?” “I’ve slept under bridges, at construction sites… right now I’m renting a room,” she replied. “The rent is super cheap, only $50 a month. But even that’s becoming hard to pay.” “Don’t worry,” I told her. “It’s a mom’s job to take care of her daughter. I’ll send you $1,500 every month from now on.” I’d done my research, after all. All the older girls online said the job market was brutal. Even college graduates couldn’t support themselves. I was a mom now. I couldn’t be too hard on my daughter. A little while later, my mom came home from shopping. She knocked on my door. “Sweetheart, Maria told me you sent someone sanitary pads. What’s that all about?” “I sent them to my daughter!” I chirped, bouncing on my heels. Mom jumped. “Your daughter? Where did you get a daughter?” I held up my tablet, pointing at the screen. “The phone matched me with her! She’s this poor, sweet girl, and it’s her birthday today, but she’s on her period, so I sent her some supplies.” Mom’s expression was strange, but she spoke patiently. “Honey, you know there are a lot of scammers online. They trick people into giving them money.” I didn’t believe her. “The courier said her place was awful, and she’s an orphan with no one to look after her. If I don’t help her, she’ll end up like that poor girl in the storybook, the one who had nobody and froze in the snow!” “You mean the Little Match Girl?” Mom asked. “Yes! That’s the one!” I nodded vigorously. Mom covered her face with her hand, looking exhausted. “Sweetheart, real life isn’t a fairy tale.” “I know that,” I said, my face serious. “In a game, you can respawn. But in real life, when you die, you’re gone forever.” My eyes started to well up with tears. I hugged my mom’s leg and looked up at her. “I don’t want my daughter to die.” Mom sighed, finally giving in. “Alright. But you can’t give her too much money, okay?” I nodded. “She’s a good girl, she’s easy to take care of. She only needs $1,500 a month.” My monthly allowance is ten thousand dollars. It’s not a lot, but it’s more than enough to support her. Mom finally agreed, and my tears turned into a grin. Having a daughter was a big responsibility, and I took it very seriously. But I was still in kindergarten, so I could only chat with her in the evenings. Today at snack time, the teacher gave us two little cupcakes. I saved one, and paired it with a carton of milk, asking Maria to send it to her via courier. Dad chuckled. “The delivery fee costs more than the cupcake.” “That’s not the point!” I huffed. “The point is, I’m worried she’s not eating properly.” Dad looked at me, intrigued. “You think about her a lot, don’t you?” I nodded, scooping a spoonful of pudding into my mouth. “Yeah. I think about her every day.” Mom smiled. “It’s true what they say. The only person who can tie a mother down is her child.” I giggled. That evening, Mom came into my room to read me a story, but I turned her down. She looked me up and down, her eyes wide with disbelief. “But you love it when Mommy reads you a bedtime story.” I gently pushed her towards the door. “I do. But now I have a daughter, and I have to read her a bedtime story. So you can’t read to me anymore.” Mom looked a little crestfallen. “So, you have a daughter now and you don’t need your mommy anymore?” I patted her leg reassuringly. “Mommy, you’re a grown-up. My daughter is still a baby, she needs more care. It’s not that I love her more than you, it’s that she needs me more.” After sending my pouting mother away, I climbed into my bed and pulled out my tablet to read to my daughter. “The little bunny, Pip, lay on the soft grass, gazing at the stars. Suddenly, a shimmering star fell from the sky and landed in the forest. He hopped over and found the star, its light flickering weakly. Pip used a flower petal wet with dew to mend the star’s light, and it flew back into the heavens. Pip fell asleep with a smile on his face, dreaming of playing with his new friend among the constellations…” My daughter must have loved it, because when I woke up, I saw she’d sent me an emoji. A smiling, happy face. Hehe. She liked my story. Dad warned me to be very careful. No sending pictures of myself, and absolutely no sneaking out to meet her. As much as I wanted to see my daughter, I knew it was dangerous for a kid to go out alone, so the thought never even crossed my mind. But my daughter was amazing. She was living all by herself and she’d already found a new job. “I got a job at a bubble tea shop! I’ll get my first paycheck next month. It’s my first ever long-term job.” Her words were full of joy, but my heart felt heavy. She was so young, already struggling to make a life for herself. It made this old mom’s heart ache. Now that she was earning money, she told me I didn’t need to send her an allowance anymore. But I kept sending it, telling her to save the extra or buy herself something nice. I told her I’d stop once she was more stable at her job. But she always sent $1,200 back, only keeping $300 a month. Sigh. I blew a kiss at the screen. My baby was so easy to take care of. But gradually, she seemed to get busier. My messages would sit on “read” for hours before she’d reply. At night, I’d start reading her a bedtime story and fall asleep before she even had a chance to listen. Sigh. I sat on the sofa, hugging my stuffed bunny, feeling gloomy. Mom came over and wrapped her arms around me. “What’s wrong, my little Lily-bug?” “I don’t get to talk to my daughter as much anymore,” I mumbled, my face full of woe. “We used to chat all afternoon after I got home from school, but now we barely say a few words before bedtime.” Mom stroked my hair, her head tilted in sympathy. “And that makes you sad?” I nodded. “Yes. I’m very sad.” “You know, Lily,” Mom said softly, “the bond between a mother and daughter is like a journey where you slowly walk further apart.” I looked up at her and shook my head honestly. “No, I don’t know.” Mom choked for a second, then cleared her throat and continued. “Well, to put it simply, the older she gets, the less she’ll be in touch. She’ll have school, then a job, then she’ll want to have fun. She’ll need friends, a partner, maybe even her own children. Her life will get bigger and bigger, so the space for her parents gets smaller and smaller. And we… we have to learn to let go.” I cupped my face in my hands, rested my chin on them, and let out another heavy sigh. “Okay. I get it.” I had to learn to be a less clingy mom. Today was a great day because my daughter told me she had the whole day off. In the morning, I put on my little backpack and announced to my dad, “I’m not going to school today.” Dad looked confused. “Why not?” I beamed, spreading my arms wide. “Because my daughter has the day off! We can play all day long!” Dad glanced at his phone. “But it’s Wednesday, Lily. You don’t have a day off.” “Then I can take a sick day!” I pouted. “It’s not fair, she barely ever gets a holiday.” But he just grabbed my little backpack, plopped me in the car, and said with an infuriating grin, “Nope. Today, you’re going to learn about one of life’s most important lessons: you don’t always get what you want.” Ugh, stupid Dad! At kindergarten, I zoned out while the teacher tried to show us how to draw. Daisy sidled up to me curiously. “Lily, what’s wrong?” I glanced at her, my voice listless. “I miss my daughter.” She tilted her head and pulled out her Barbie doll. “You didn’t bring yours? You can borrow mine.” I looked at the curly-haired doll and just waved my hand dismissively. Sigh. She wouldn’t understand. The second school was out, I grabbed my tablet and messaged my daughter. “How was your day off? Did you have fun?” “I spent the whole day in bed, just playing on my phone,” she replied. “It was pure bliss.” I scratched my head. She finally gets a day off, and she doesn’t go out and do something fun? On weekends, Mom and Dad take me to amusement parks or ice skating. We do anything but stay home. I didn’t get it. I must have taken too long to reply, because her next message was hesitant. “Do you think that’s… pathetic?” I’m a very honest kid, so I asked her honestly. “Why didn’t you go out? It was such a rare day off, what a waste.” “It’s not a waste,” she said, and then added, a little embarrassed, “Going out costs money, and… I’m just really tired from work. I just wanted to rest at home.” It dawned on me then. This was probably the most affordable way for her to rest. “You’re such a good girl,” I praised her. I wanted to say that I could pay for her to go out, but then I remembered she said she was tired. Maybe she really did just want to stay home. I had to respect her choice. I patted my own little chest, satisfied with my mature handling of the situation.

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The day before my husband’s birthday, our daughter got into an accident while trying to buy him a gift. As her life hung by a thread, my husband—a brilliant and renowned surgeon—was nowhere to be found. It wasn’t until after our daughter was pronounced dead that he finally answered my call. “Perry has a fever,” he said, his voice tight with annoyance. “Lila’s useless with this stuff, so I have to be here.” Overwhelmed with grief, I told him our daughter was gone. He was dismissive. “I know you’re just jealous and using our daughter to get attention, but Perry is sick. You need to stop this nonsense.” I took our daughter to the funeral home alone. Later, my husband called, accusing me, insisting that his first love’s son only got sick because my dog had scratched him. He demanded I come home and apologize, then stay to nurse the mother and son back to health. He thought my love for him would make me bend, as it always had. But this time, I just turned and walked away in silence. I’ve already prepared your birthday gift, Ethan. Happy Birthday. The divorce papers would be delivered to him on the day he was born. If he didn’t want my love, then I would give him exactly what he deserved. 1 “Dr. Monroe is out on a call,” the attending physician said with a heavy sigh. “If he’d been here… maybe the little girl would have had a chance.” My legs gave out, and I crumpled to the cold, linoleum floor. “He’s rarely off-site,” the doctor continued gently. “It must have been a real emergency. I’m so sorry for your loss.” A gurney with a small, white-sheet-covered form was wheeled out of the room. I stared at my phone, at the hundred missed calls to Ethan, and a chill seeped into my bones, deeper than any I had ever known. The great Dr. Monroe did, in fact, have an emergency he couldn’t leave. I saw it on Instagram. He had cut himself off from the world to focus entirely on his first love’s son. In the photo, his eyes were red-rimmed with worry as he carefully wiped a sick little boy’s hands with a damp cloth. My tears blurred the screen as I shakily typed a single comment: 【Hope you’re happy.】 Moments after I posted it, the number I hadn’t been able to reach all day suddenly called me back. “Vent to me all you want, Renata, but why would you comment on Lila’s post? What are people supposed to think? What is she supposed to think?” My voice was a hollow echo of itself. “Our daughter was in a car accident, and you were with someone else. Ethan, what am I supposed to think? What was Mia supposed to think?” His patience snapped. “She just happens to get into an accident the one night Perry has a raging fever? Do you really expect me to believe that? You can be jealous, Renata, but there’s a limit. This kind of drama just pushes me away.” I didn’t sleep. The next morning, as I was arranging for Mia to be taken to the funeral home, Ethan called again. “There are scratch marks on Perry’s hand. From a dog. Do you know anything about that?” I was stunned for a second, then a bitter laugh escaped my lips. “I’m not responsible for watching other people’s children.” Ethan’s voice exploded with rage. “So you admit it? You’ve been holding a grudge ever since Lila came to stay with us. I thought you were just being petty, but I never imagined you’d take it out on a child.” “Because of your jealousy, Perry suffered all night. This time, I can’t just let it go.” “You have five minutes. Get your ass home and apologize, or you’ll regret it.” He hung up. Classic Ethan. Every time before, when he got angry, I was the one who bowed my head and said I was sorry. But this time, I couldn’t give him what he wanted. The arrangements at the funeral home weren’t even finished when Ethan sent me a text. My phone buzzed, and I glanced down. My world tilted, and I dropped to my knees, vomiting onto the pavement. He’d taken our dog. Our beautiful golden retriever, sunny, who we’d had for ten years. The text was cold and final. “I gave you a chance. You chose to be stubborn. That animal’s fate is on you. After ten years, I thought you had some affection for him. I guess getting back at Lila was more important than anything.” A strangled sob escaped my throat. His words were a physical blow. “I’m a fair man. You do something wrong, you face the consequences. This doesn’t mean you’re off the hook. Don’t test my limits again.” I switched off my phone, cutting off his voice. My heart didn’t know which direction to break in. It had only been a few hours since Mia died. The funeral director approached me gently. “Ma’am, would you like to arrange for restorative cosmetology for your daughter? We require a five-hundred-dollar deposit to book the specialist.” The image of Mia’s broken body flashed through my mind, and I nodded frantically. But when I tried to use my card, it was declined. It had been frozen. Defeated, I had no choice but to call Ethan. His voice came through the line, cold and distant. “So you’ve thought it over? Ready to apologize? You always have to learn things the hard way, don’t you.” My voice was a raw whisper. “Ethan, can you please just give me five hundred dollars?” He scoffed, his tone dripping with ice. “What, you can’t have my love, so now you’re trying to run off with my money? Are you really that pathetic?” “You want the money? Fine. You have ten minutes to get here and apologize to Lila in person. And you’d better have a good, long list of everything you did wrong. Don’t make me remind you.” “Five hundred isn’t much. If your apology is sincere enough, I might consider it.” He didn’t hang up, leaving the line open. I stumbled, my world spinning. “The deposit…” I croaked to the director. “Can I come back in an hour to pay it?” He agreed. I couldn’t waste a second. I rushed home. Ethan was already waiting, his face a mask of stern disapproval. “That was twelve minutes, Renata. When did you become so unreliable?” Without hesitation, I looked directly at Lila, who was sitting beside him looking pitiful, and began my recitation. “I shouldn’t have called you. I shouldn’t have commented on your post. I shouldn’t have refused to apologize. I was wrong. I’m sorry.” Then I turned to Ethan, swallowing the bile rising in my throat. “I’ve apologized. Can I have the money now?” My gaze met his, and tears immediately welled in my eyes. My daughter, Mia, had inherited his eyes. The exact same shade of deep, thoughtful brown. Right after the accident, Mia had looked at me with those same eyes, filled with confusion and terror. “Mommy, am I going to die? Mommy, I don’t want to leave you.” I did everything I could to soothe her, my voice shaking as I lied. “It’s going to be okay, sweetie. Your daddy is the best doctor in the world. As long as he’s here, nothing bad can happen to you.” She believed me. She nodded, a small sense of peace settling over her frightened features. “Daddy will come save me. I’m not scared of anything.” But by the time she bled out and her heart stopped, her father’s phone had just started ringing on his end. His voice, when he finally answered, was furious. “Perry has a 104-degree fever, and you’re calling me with this crap? If something happens to him, can you live with that responsibility?” I sobbed into the phone, telling him our daughter had been in an accident. He just laughed coldly. “Renata, that little trick was cute when you were younger. A bit of romantic drama. But at your age, it’s just pathetic and disgusting.” He hung up. A moment later, the doctor walked out and told me to prepare for the worst. I cried for a long, long time, holding Mia’s hand as her body grew colder, stiffer. She died without seeing her father one last time. “Renata, for an adult, crying isn’t a way to solve problems.” Ethan’s voice pulled me back to the present. He was sitting next to Lila now, gently patting her back as she dabbed at her red-rimmed eyes. “Feel better now?” he asked her softly. “I’m here. She won’t dare to pull anything like this again.” Lila leaned against him pathetically. “Even if she hadn’t apologized, I wouldn’t have blamed her. I was just so worried about Perry. Ever since we moved in, Renata and Mia have never liked us. I’ve tried so hard to be patient, but I never thought…” She looked up at me, her eyes brimming with manufactured tears. “She can yell at me, hit me, I can take anything. But Perry is just a little boy. He doesn’t understand. Not only does he have to deal with the dirty looks, but he gets called a fatherless child. Renata, if you have a problem with me, just take it out on me. Please, just don’t hurt my son.” With a flourish, she raised her hand and gave her own cheek a dramatic, but feather-light, slap. Instantly, Perry came running out of the bedroom, sobbing. “Don’t bully my mommy!” He charged at me and sank his teeth into my arm. Pain shot through me, and I instinctively tried to shake him off, but he clung on with all his might. The pain was sharp and deep. I couldn’t help but push him away. Lila, who had been watching passively, suddenly shrieked. “Don’t hit him! He’s just a sweet boy trying to protect his mother!” Ethan’s face hardened. He rushed forward and, with all his strength, slapped me across the face. The force was so great it sent me stumbling backward, and even knocked Perry off my arm. I fell, my head cracking hard against the edge of a table. “You dare lay a hand on a child, Renata? What is wrong with you?” The room spun. Ethan’s furious face blurred into two, then three. Lila’s wailing filled the air, and a wave of absurd, hysterical laughter threatened to bubble up inside me. Looking back, I’d loved Ethan for longer than he’d even known I existed. We went to the same high school. He was the star—handsome, brilliant, the dream guy of countless underclassmen, including me. I studied like my life depended on it, chasing his shadow until we both got into the same university. But on the first day of orientation, I saw him in the cafeteria, feeding his girlfriend, Lila. A senior told me they were the campus power couple, both top students in the medical program. A perfect match. It was a story everyone loved. Everyone but me. All I wanted to do was cry. Then, Lila cheated on him and left the country, leaving Ethan devastated. He fell apart, even attempted suicide a few times. I was the one who stubbornly stayed by his side, comforting him, pulling him back from the edge. I was secretly glad back then. Glad that she had thrown him away, glad that I finally had a chance to be close to him. When he told me she had taken all his money, I didn’t hesitate to give him my entire life savings. He cried then, holding me, promising he would be devoted to me for the rest of his life. He called me his angel. And I believed him. I told him, “When you become the best doctor in the world, I won’t have to be afraid of anything. You’ll protect me, and I’ll live to be a hundred.” He held me tighter, and his tears were hot on my shoulder. But on the day my daughter died, I saw Lila’s new Instagram post. In the picture, Ethan was watching over her son, the raw anxiety in his eyes impossible to hide. Lila’s caption cut me to the core: 【My angel is here.】 I stared at that post for a long, long time, until my vision blurred and I couldn’t see anything at all. My thoughts snapped back to the present. Seeing Ethan and Lila standing together, a united front against me, I felt a dizzying sense of déja vu. It was as if I had never broken into his world at all. Ethan scooped Perry into his arms and carried him toward our daughter’s bedroom. My senses returned with a jolt, and I lunged after them. “Ethan, you can’t let him stay in Mia’s room!” He didn’t even look at me. I followed them in, and a single glance was enough to shatter my heart into a million pieces. Mia’s easel was covered in chaotic scribbles. The locked diary on her desk had been pried open and torn. Even her most precious doll, a fluffy white rabbit, had been dismembered, its parts scattered across the floor. Her sweet, cozy little sanctuary was gone. Those were the things she treasured most in her short life. A spasm of pain made my vision go black. I confronted him, my voice breaking, but Ethan just snapped at me impatiently. “The guest room is tiny. Perry’s sick. I wanted him to be comfortable. What’s the big deal?” “They’ve been putting up with that cramped room ever since they got here. Lila has been patient enough. What more do you want?” I had no strength to argue, no will to answer his endless accusations. I just knelt and carefully began to gather the ruined pieces of my daughter’s life. The pain was so intense it became a strange, hollow calm. Lila, still sobbing, hugged Perry and instinctively grabbed the stuffed animal from the bed, shoving it into his hands. “If you’re upset, just hold this.” Perry immediately started trying to rip the doll’s head off. I threw myself forward and snatched it back. Lila stared, then her brow furrowed, and her voice rose in a tearful whine. “It’s just a toy! I’ll buy you a new one! Perry is hurting, he needs an outlet! I’m begging you, can you please stop targeting a child?” Ethan’s gaze fell on the doll. Without a word, he strode over and ripped it from my hands. I remembered that little white rabbit. It was a Children’s Day gift from Ethan to Mia. It wasn’t cheap—a simple stuffed animal that cost over a hundred dollars. I’d even teased Ethan at the time for spoiling her. I told Mia it was expensive and that she had to take special care of it. In all the time she’d had it, Mia only ever held it when she slept. She never even took it out to play with, for fear of getting it dirty. Now, in Perry’s hands, it had been destroyed in seconds. I stood there for a long time, just watching. A strange smile touched my lips. It seemed I couldn’t protect anything I loved. While they were busy comforting the screaming Perry, I picked up Ethan’s phone and transferred a thousand dollars to my account. I took a taxi back to the funeral home and paid the deposit. The waiting room was cold, my heart slowly freezing over with it. I don’t know how much time passed before Ethan’s call came through. “So now you’re a thief, too? Well done, Renata. A great role model for your daughter.” “I ask you to come home and apologize, and what do you do? You cause a scene. I gave you a chance. You’re the one who didn’t take it. So don’t blame me for what happens next.” My hand was shaking so badly I could barely hold the phone. “What are you going to do?” A cold laugh. “Scared now? Where was this fear when you and Mia were bullying Lila and her son? If Lila hadn’t told me, I would have never known that Mia—at her age—would attack someone’s deepest wound. Calling Perry a boy with no father! Is that how you raise a child?” “She did something wrong. As her father, it’s my right and my responsibility to discipline her. And I suggest you don’t even think about protecting her, or I can stop your mother’s treatment at any time.” “No!” The word was torn from me before I could think. A knowing, cruel chuckle on the other end. “So you are scared. Then be a good girl and admit your mistake. Stealing money and running away only makes you look more guilty. Renata, my patience has a limit. Don’t think being my wife gives you a free pass to do whatever you want. I won’t let my feelings for you cloud my judgment.” “Bring Mia and get home, now. Don’t make me wait.” My gaze drifted to the mortuary doors. I swallowed hard, my throat tight. “But Ethan… Mia is already dead.” How is a dead person supposed to apologize? I didn’t understand. “Did I not tell you to stop this? Once, twice, but not a third time, Renata. I’m really out of patience.” I was numb, unable to summon any emotion at all. “If you don’t believe me, you can come to the city morgue yourself. Mia… she’s lying in there.”

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