Category: English

Seeing the scar on my husband’s secretary’s wrist as she served me tea shattered her world. That night, her depression returned; she tried to kill herself again. My husband’s eyes were bloodshot, his hands around my throat. “Evelyn was finally hoping again,” he snarled. “Why trigger her?” On the rooftop edge, Evelyn whispered, “It’s not Annie’s fault… I remembered the pain. I can’t bear it.” As she swayed, my husband lunged—not for her, but at me. He forced a device onto my head. My mind broke. Countless leering faces swarmed me, hands tearing at my clothes, crawling on my skin. I knew it was just Evelyn’s memory, but the terror was real. I screamed, begging him to stop. But he walked away, holding Evelyn like a princess, never looking back. With that memory transplanted, Evelyn improved. Thrilled, he transferred all her trauma into me. He held the renewed, smiling Evelyn, never noticing the light fading from my eyes. He’d forgotten the device’s final cost: Exchange too many memories, and you lose yourself completely. 1 I was on the floor like a broken animal, clawing at Nathaniel’s pants, pleading with him to remove the Memory Exchange Device. But the man who once cherished me, who once worshipped the ground I walked on, kicked my hand away. The polished leather of his shoe ground into my fingertips, a deliberate, cruel pressure. “Cut the act, Annie. You know none of it is real.” This was the same man who had whispered love songs in my ear just last night. Now, his voice was laced with bitter disappointment. “You can’t even handle watching the images. Can you imagine how helpless Evelyn must have felt, living through it?” he demanded. “She was finally crawling out of that hole, and you… you pushed her right back in.” “A spoiled princess like you, who’s had everything handed to her, will never understand. It’s time you learned some empathy.” He knew. He knew the device didn’t just transmit sights and sounds. It replicated the five senses of the memory’s owner, including pain. Evelyn had relived this particular memory countless times, amplifying the agony with each recollection. The pain hit me in waves, so intense I started convulsing, tears and saliva streaming down my face. My suffering earned a tender kiss, which Nathaniel placed on Evelyn’s forehead. The same Nathaniel who hadn’t shed a single tear when I miscarried our child now buried his face in Evelyn’s chest, his shoulders shaking with repressed sobs. “Evelyn, my poor Evelyn. You’ve suffered so much.” “From the moment I learned about your past, I swore I would invent something to take your pain away,” he whispered. “But seeing it for myself… only now do I truly understand the hell you went through.” As they walked away, my fingernails scraped bloody tracks into the concrete floor. So this was it. This was the project that had consumed him, the reason he’d worked day and night, the reason he couldn’t even spare an hour to take my mother to the hospital when she had a heart attack. It was all for another woman. The first rays of dawn touched my face before the nightmare finally released its grip. A sticky warmth spread beneath me. I looked down. My white dress was soaked in blood. I stumbled to the hospital, a strange, hollow feeling in my chest. Evelyn’s most painful memory had been traded for one of my happiest. And I had no idea which one it was. I’d barely walked through the hospital doors when I saw them. Evelyn, her cheeks rosy, was being spoon-fed porridge by Nathaniel. The moment she saw me, she clutched her chest, fresh tears spilling from her eyes. “Oh, Mr. Price, thank you. Thank you for giving me Annie’s happiest memory when I was in such a dark place.” Her voice was a fragile, grateful whisper. “I… I can’t even remember what the nightmare was about anymore.” “But to experience what it’s like to marry you… even in a memory… I can die with no regrets. Even without a family, this beautiful memory gives me the strength to face anything.” She looked at me, her expression pleading. “Let’s give it back to Annie now.” Nathaniel pulled her into a fierce embrace, his voice trembling. “How could I ever let you relive that pain?” So that was it. The memory she’d stolen was my wedding day. I stood in the doorway, a ghost in my own life, watching my husband hold another woman with the delicate restraint one would use for fine porcelain. A doctor rushed over, his forehead beaded with sweat. “You miscarried nearly ten hours ago! Why are you only just getting here?” he demanded. “If we don’t clear the uterine lining now, you could get a fatal infection. We might have to perform a hysterectomy!” Nathaniel finally noticed me. His eyes widened in shock. He let go of Evelyn and strode towards me. For a foolish, fleeting second, I thought he was coming to comfort me. Then his hand cracked across my face in a vicious, stinging slap. 2 “Annie, are you insane?” he roared, his face a mask of fury. “I show you a glimpse of Evelyn’s pain, and you get rid of our child just to get back at me?” “No! It wasn’t like that! The pain from her memory, it was too much, I—” Before I could finish, he slammed the device onto my head again. “You grew up with a loving family, didn’t you? Is that why you don’t give a damn about our child’s life?” he spat. “Since you clearly don’t appreciate the importance of family, why don’t we give those memories to someone who will? Someone like Evelyn!” I was still reeling from the shock of a second miscarriage when I felt it—a massive, gaping void opening in my mind. Years of love, of warmth, of belonging, were being siphoned away in an instant. The terror of utter isolation consumed me. I collapsed, my legs giving out. The doctor tried to help me up, but I couldn’t stand. I was utterly alone. When I came to, I was on an operating table. A surgery had just ended. The doctor shook his head, his voice heavy with pity. “The infection was too severe. We had to remove your uterus. You should call your family; you’ll need a lot of care during your recovery.” I stared at him blankly. “I’m an orphan,” I replied, my voice flat. “I have no family. No husband.” I walked out of the operating room and straight to a window at the end of the hall. The wind whipped my hair around my face. I closed my eyes and leaned forward, ready for the fall. Suddenly, a pair of arms wrapped around my waist, yanking me back. I slammed onto the hard floor. Before I could even process what had happened, the person who had saved me—Nathaniel’s assistant—was scrambling to his feet and bowing to someone behind me. “Mr. Price, she’s showing genuine suicidal tendencies. It’s a good thing I got here in time.” The man called Mr. Price grabbed my chin, his grip painfully tight. “Are you putting on a show, Annie? Is this some pathetic, low-life attempt to get my attention just because I’ve been looking after Evelyn for a few days?” I squinted, my head throbbing. I had no idea who this furious man was. “Sir,” the assistant interjected nervously. “Mrs. Price has undergone two memory transfers in quick succession, both involving traumatic input. Psychological instability and cognitive dissonance are to be expected. It’s clear she doesn’t recognize you. A failed suicide attempt will likely be followed by another. We should restore her memories before it’s too late.” The man’s brow furrowed deeply. “Evelyn is finally smiling again. If we send her back to that dark place, she won’t survive it.” He scoffed. “Annie studied for her psychology license to help me through my own kidnapping trauma. She’s mentally tough. This is just a stunt to win back my affection.” “We’re not swapping the memories back. Once Evelyn is stable, I’ll… I’ll arrange another wedding for Annie. That should compensate her for the lost memory.” The assistant hesitated. “But sir… her father died saving you during that kidnapping. Her mother passed away from a heart condition, broken by grief. How do you compensate for the memory of her family?” The man’s voice rose, sharp with irritation. “Who’s your boss, Evans, her or me? You seem to be taking her side on everything.” “Letting her be Mrs. Price is reward enough for her father’s sacrifice,” he snapped. “As for the memories, we can look at photo albums, watch videos. I’ll help her remember.” Just then, his phone rang. The anger on his face melted away when he saw the caller ID. He answered, his voice turning gentle as he gave his assistant an order. “Take Annie back to the villa. Keep a close eye on her. Don’t let her try anything stupid again. Evelyn would feel terrible if she found out.” He started to walk away, then turned back, covering the phone’s mouthpiece. “That scrape on her elbow,” he muttered to the assistant. “Clean it up. And no adhesive bandages. She’s allergic to the glue.” Even after he left, I couldn’t make sense of their conversation. My brain felt like mush. Trying to think sent daggers of pain through my skull. It wasn’t until the assistant, Mr. Evans, handed me a tissue that I realized I was crying, tears streaming silently down my face for a reason I couldn’t comprehend. 3 Mr. Evans took me back to what he called “Mr. Price’s home.” Standing at the entrance, I couldn’t bring myself to step inside. Everything was decorated in purple, a color I instinctively loathed. The walls were covered in photos of Mr. Price with a strange woman, their smiles sickeningly sweet. The air was thick with the scent of white florals, a fragrance that gave me an instant headache. Every detail of the house screamed that I didn’t belong. “…Is this really my home?” I whispered. “I don’t have a family. I don’t have a husband. Am I… am I this Mr. Price’s mistress?” I backed away, bumping into a solid chest. Mr. Price leaned down, his breath warm against my ear. “After the memory exchange, Evelyn thinks she’s the lady of the house. So I redecorated everything to her taste.” “Just bear with it for a little while. Once she’s stable, I’ll explain the truth to her.” Before I could even process his words, a force shoved me hard, sending me sprawling to the floor. “There you are, you little tramp! Seducing my husband in my own house!” The woman from the photos was on me, her slaps raining down on my face. I tried to scramble away, but she grabbed a fistful of my hair. “You shameless homewrecker! I’m going to ruin that pretty face of yours!” Mr. Price jumped between us. “Evelyn, Evelyn, it’s a misunderstanding!” “She’s a patient I met during my recovery,” he explained frantically. “She has nowhere to go, so I’m letting her stay here for a while.” “A patient? Looks more like a predator to me!” A stinging slap bypassed his defense and caught me square on the jaw. My left ear rang, and the world spun. Mr. Price scooped Evelyn into his arms and carried her inside. The heavens opened up, and rain began to pour. The villa door slammed shut. The iron gate to the garden was locked. I was trapped outside with nowhere to shelter, huddling miserably under the thin eaves of the roof. By the time the door opened again, I was soaked to the bone, my body burning with a fever hot enough to fry an egg. Mr. Price frowned deeply. “Annie, you’re not a child anymore. Why do you always resort to hurting yourself to manipulate me?” His voice sounded distant. I had to turn my good ear toward him to hear properly. When he saw my bruised face, he sighed. “Did Evelyn do that? Come inside. I’ll clean you up.” He led me to a small, cramped room. The dust was so thick it made me cough. “Shh,” he hissed, covering my mouth. “Evelyn just fell asleep.” Once I was quiet, he brought out antiseptic and cotton swabs, kneeling to gently tend to my wounds. I looked at his face, and inexplicably, the tears started again. A sharp pain lanced through my heart, for a reason I couldn’t name. Seeing his frown deepen, I reached out and pressed a finger to his lips. “…Mr. Price,” I began, my voice hoarse. “I feel like I’ve forgotten so much. It hurts to even try to remember.” “Did we meet at the hospital? During therapy? Did you feel sorry for me and hire me as your secretary after I was discharged?” “My last clear memory is from this morning. At the hospital. The… the abortion.” I wiped my tears away, my resolve hardening. “I must have been confused, getting involved with you and your wife. I see my mistake now. Thank you for your kindness, but I should leave.” He grabbed my arm, forcing me to sit back down. “It’s not what you think. This is all because of Evelyn’s… never mind. I’ll explain everything later.” He brought me a bowl of steaming porridge, carefully blowing on each spoonful before offering it to me. “Don’t worry about anything. Evelyn has a big heart. She’s already accepted you. She even made this porridge herself to help you warm up.” I hesitated, then took a mouthful. The next second, I was vomiting violently all over the floor. The porridge was full of crushed glass.

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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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1 We were having fondue at home when I felt the tingle of leaking electricity. I lunged for the cord and shut it off, saving my family from electrocution. But my sister’s next words condemned me to a fate far worse. “April,” she whispered, her eyes welling with tears, “are you just jealous of my eighteenth-birthday present?” My mother’s slap sent me reeling. She screamed at me, demanding to know why I would dare covet my sister’s gift. My father grabbed me and shoved my face toward the pot, promising to get justice for his precious daughter. The scalding broth flooded my world. I spent a month in the hospital, a husk of flesh and pain, before my parents refused to pay the bills. They had me discharged and dumped under a bridge, where the stray dogs found me. This time, as I came back to myself, my father’s voice echoed in my ears. “Why does the broth feel… tingly?” “I put in some peppercorns.” 2 “I put in some Sichuan peppercorns.” At the dinner table, my face was a mask of calm, but beneath it, my hands trembled uncontrollably. A month had passed in my mind, but the memory of my death was still branded onto my soul. In my last life, it happened right here, at this very table. As my parents celebrated my sister Joy’s birthday, I was the first to notice something wrong with the fondue. A strange, numbing sensation on my tongue. I prepared all the meals in our house. I knew for a fact I hadn’t put anything in the pot that would cause that. I realized instantly: the electric fondue pot was leaking current. I killed the power and yanked the plug from the wall. When I saw the frayed, exposed copper wire, a wave of relief washed over me. I’d found the danger, we were safe. I had no idea the real danger was just beginning. My sister, Joy, lowered the champagne flute she’d been raising for a toast, her eyes instantly turning red. “April, are you just jealous that I got a birthday present?” she whimpered. “I know Mom forgot yours yesterday, but she was just so busy. If you like my teddy bear so much, you can have it. Then you won’t be angry anymore, okay?” She clutched the stuffed bear tighter, with no intention of giving it to me. But our parents couldn’t stand to see her upset. Especially not when I was the cause. A hand cracked across my face, sending me sprawling to the floor. My head struck the corner of the table, and my vision exploded with stars. “So that’s it! That’s why you’re throwing a fit!” my mother shrieked. “Who the hell do you think you are, wanting your sister’s things?” “I didn’t…” I tried to explain, but Joy cut me off. She clutched her heart, then threw the teddy bear at my face, smothering my words. “Mom, if she wants it, just give it to her,” she gasped, tugging at the collar of her dress. “I just… I don’t feel so well. It’s okay.” That was all it took. My father, his face flushed from cheap whiskey, lurched to his feet. 3 He swayed as he approached, grabbing me by the collar of my shirt. “Don’t you worry, my sweet Joy. I’ll teach this greedy little bitch a lesson for you. I’ll get you justice.” He shoved my face into the still-bubbling pot. Scalding broth seared my skin, flooding my nose and mouth, down into my lungs. The agony and suffocation were so intense I almost blacked out. I thrashed wildly, finally breaking free, but my struggle sent the entire pot tipping over, drenching my body until the pain became a white-hot nothingness. When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed, wrapped head to toe in bandages. The heat had destroyed my vocal cords. I could barely force my eyes open. A nurse looked at me with pity. “What are we going to do with her? She’s been in a coma for a month. Her parents paid once when they dropped her off, but now they won’t authorize any more treatment or pay the bills. We can’t just keep her here.” The final payment deadline came and went. My parents never answered the hospital’s calls. That night, a masked figure wheeled me out of the hospital. We were almost home when the car turned abruptly, and I was thrown into the darkness beneath a nearby bridge. “Now, no one will ever compete with me again.” The wind blew the mask aside. It was Joy. The stray dogs, drawn by the scent of cooked flesh, rejoiced at their unexpected feast. Devoid of pain, I watched them tear me apart, my unblinking eyes staring into the void, unwilling to close even in death. Back at the dinner table, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, burying the hatred deep inside. I had waited so long for this day, for this second chance. This time, I would escape this living hell. This time, I would write a different ending. 4 Hearing my explanation, Joy skeptically fished around in the pot with a ladle. She pulled up a string of bright red peppercorns. I forced a placating smile. “I know you love spicy food, Joy. Mom and Dad don’t usually let you have it, but since it’s your birthday, I thought I’d add a little something special for you.” Joy’s tastes were the opposite of our family’s bland diet. She craved the fire and numbness of spicy food, but my parents restricted it, along with any greasy, fried snacks. My father shot me a disapproving look. But my mother, seeing Joy’s happy expression, let it slide. “Just this once. Look how happy she is. And you know what they say, a happy heart is a healthy heart.” My father’s expression softened. He began serving Joy, feeding her morsels of food as if she were a toddler. My mother, not to be outdone, produced a brightly wrapped gift. “Happy eighteenth birthday, my sweet baby girl! You’re an adult now!” It was the same performance every year. A cozy, intimate scene of a perfect family of three, celebrating their beloved daughter. Joy sat at the head of the table, the center of their universe. My own birthday had been the day before, a fact everyone seemed to have collectively forgotten. It had gotten worse over the years. Their obsession with her was absolute. Even when money was tight, her room overflowed with dolls and her closet with expensive clothes. The only air conditioner in our cramped house was installed in her bedroom. I slept in the storage room next door, a wall away, fighting off cockroaches and centipedes in my sleep. “Wow, a cute teddy bear! Thank you, Mommy!” Joy kissed my mother’s cheek and twirled around, hugging the bear. Then her eyes landed on me, quietly eating at the corner of the table. “April didn’t get a present yesterday,” she said suddenly. “Will she be angry when she sees my bear?” 5 The story goes that Joy and I were supposed to be twins. But my mother had a difficult labor. I was born the night before, while Joy held on until the next morning. Whenever Joy felt the slightest bit of emotional distress, she would clutch her chest and complain of discomfort. I knew she wasn’t sick. But my parents always believed her, always accused me of upsetting her, knowing she was “delicate.” Now, her question hung in the air, and all eyes turned to me. One wrong word, and my last life would repeat itself. I lowered my gaze. “Joy’s birth was difficult, which makes her birthday especially precious. She’s the princess of this family, she deserves a wonderful celebration. There’s no need to waste money on me.” I quickly deflected the accusation of jealousy. I saw relief and satisfaction dawn on my parents’ faces. “That’s the attitude a good older sister should have,” my mother said. “You need to keep that in mind when you’re at college, so you can take good care of your sister. Understand?” “We’ll be sending all the living expense money to Joy’s account. She’ll manage your finances for you, to keep you from wasting it.” If they could have, they would have swapped my college entrance exam scores with Joy’s, sending her to the top-tier university in the capital. But Joy’s scores only qualified her for a local state school. When it came time to register, my parents had already filled out my application for the same school as her. Their excuse: an older sister needs to take care of the younger one. But I had already contacted my guidance counselor and secretly changed my enrollment back to the university in the capital. In two weeks, I would be starting my new life. Of course, they would find out as soon as the semester started. And when they did, I would face an endless torrent of screaming and beatings. I have lived two lives cowering in fear, suffering their abuse. I will not fall in the same place again. Somehow, before school starts, I have to get out of here for good. And for my escape today, I have prepared. 6 I stood and went to the kitchen to bring out the other dishes. I placed a bowl of handmade fish balls in front of Joy. “You’ve always loved the fish balls I make for you. I made them for your birthday this year, too.” My father nodded, washing them down with a large gulp of whiskey. My mother sneered. “Oh, so you hear the money’s going to your sister and now you’re sucking up? So young, and already so manipulative.” Despite her words, she ate several. My cooking was good. Eat up, I thought. Eat it all, and then have a nice, long sleep. I watched them devour the food, my heart pounding with a mix of terror and excitement. But after a few bites, Joy slammed her chopsticks on the table, throwing a tantrum. “No! These don’t taste right!” “I didn’t watch you make them today! Who knows what you secretly put in them!” My heart skipped a beat. Did she know? No, impossible. She was just angry she’d missed her favorite part of the ritual. The fish balls were her special request. Every winter, she would demand I make them. I’d have to use the boniest part of a small carp, picking out each tiny spine by hand. Then, I’d have to plunge my already chapped and cracked hands into a bowl of ice water, to which she would add lemon juice. She would watch, delighted, as I winced in pain, forced to continue making the fish balls. For days after, my hands would be red and raw. If I ever showed the slightest reluctance, she would burst into tears, and my parents’ curses and beatings would follow. Since it was the middle of summer, making them was less of an ordeal for me. Naturally, she was disappointed. She needed a reason to have me punished. “I didn’t use ice water,” I lied quickly. “Maybe that’s why they’re not as firm.” My mother slammed her hand on the table. “And why not! Now Joy is upset! What if this makes her sick?” “The freezer isn’t working well. I used all the ice for the fruit punch,” I mumbled, covering my head as if expecting a blow. My cowardice seemed to amuse Joy. She let out a small, mocking laugh and finally dropped the subject, reaching for a glass of ice-cold fruit punch instead. But Joy, my dear sister, the strong, sweet flavor of the punch is so much better at hiding the taste of sleeping pills. 7 Halfway through dinner, my father started complaining of dizziness. He glanced at the half-empty bottle of cheap whiskey beside him and thought nothing of it. He mumbled “eighteen” and smiled dreamily at Joy. “My sweet girl is finally eighteen. Daddy’s waited so long for this day. I raised you from a tiny little thing, no bigger than my knee, and now you’re almost as tall as me.” Joy smiled sweetly back at him. The alcohol had loosened his tongue. He rambled on about the hardships of raising her. He sighed, but his face was happy. “Eighteen years old. My Leo is finally…” Before he could finish, my mother quickly shoved a piece of food in his mouth, cutting him off. Leo? Who’s Leo? I was confused, but Joy didn’t seem to have heard. She was too busy enjoying being fed by our mother. My mother caught my gaze and looked away, quickly calling for a toast. Of course, it was a toast for the three of them. I raised my glass alone, clinking it against the empty air. Joy’s eyes met mine, her expression a naked taunt, mocking me for being an outcast in my own family. But my glass was raised to the heavens, and to myself—the self that was about to escape from hell. I heard a faint, crackling hum. Just then, a string of firecrackers exploded outside, drowning out the warning sound. My mother sighed contentedly. “Look at that, Joy. Someone’s setting off fireworks for your birthday. Isn’t that lovely?” Yes. It was absolutely perfect. 8 Suddenly, the electrical hum grew louder. Joy looked at the fondue pot with confusion. My father waved a dismissive hand. “It’s just the noise from outside. We just bought this pot, it’s perfectly safe.” Joy’s suspicion was momentarily quieted, but then my mother also noticed something was wrong. “Honey, do you smell that? It smells like something’s burning.” “The pot must be scorching on the bottom.” My father stirred the bubbling red broth with a slotted spoon. The rich aroma of food filled the air again, overwhelming the other scent. “See? All gone.” Joy still looked uneasy. “But I still smell…” CRASH! The bottle of whiskey on the table, “accidentally” knocked over by me, shattered on the floor. The pungent smell of alcohol filled the room. “You’re so clumsy! Can’t you even eat a meal without breaking something!” My father roared, raising his hand to strike me. I cried out and dodged, “accidentally” kicking over another bottle of liquor. The clear liquid splashed across the floor, and now all anyone could smell was alcohol. “I’m sorry, Dad, I didn’t mean to! I’ll get you another bottle right now.” I scrambled to the kitchen. But instead of going to the liquor cabinet, I opened a small side door and pulled out my hidden suitcase. The strange burning smell meant the appliance was overloaded. The fondue pot, having been leaking electricity for a while, was about to explode in their faces. The spilled liquor would act as an accelerant. In the chaos of the fire, no one would notice one girl slipping away. It was the perfect opportunity to leave this hell forever. FWOOMP. The entire house plunged into darkness. 9 The whole street went dark. It must have been a summer peak-usage surge. The old circuit breaker for the neighborhood had tripped, a safety measure, cutting power to everyone. “Ah! It’s so dark! Mommy, I’m scared!” Joy shrieked and buried her face in my mother’s arms. My mother cooed and comforted her, fanning her and getting her water until she calmed down. With the power out, the fondue pot stopped working. The burning smell gradually faded. I was disappointed, but I never put all my eggs in one basket. Just as I was about to move to my next plan, a loud banging echoed from the front door. My mother opened it and was immediately met with a tirade. “What is wrong with your family! Always causing trouble! Now the whole street’s blacked out because of you!” “If it weren’t for that little jinx of yours, none of us would be suffering in this heat!” A few of the neighborhood women stood at our door, led by Mrs. Gable from next door, who fanned herself furiously while pointing the finger at Joy. Joy immediately shrank behind my mother. My mother couldn’t stand to see Joy blamed for anything. “You’ve got a lot of nerve! What makes you think it was my Joy’s fault? Are you blind? Our power is out too!” “If you ask me, you’re the ones doing shady things, and now the whole street has to pay for it!” “Don’t you dare!” Mrs. Gable spat. “It’s because you run your air conditioner with the windows wide open! That’s what did it!” My mother froze. “The wiring in this neighborhood is ancient,” Mrs. Gable continued, her voice rising with dramatic flair. “And that relic of an AC unit of yours has been groaning and rattling for years. We can hear it through the walls. Now you’re running it 24/7 with the windows open? Of course, it overloaded the system!” That explained why the electricity bill had been so high the last few months. “I didn’t know, Mommy, I swear I didn’t know,” Joy whined, her eyes filling with tears. “I just… it’s so hot, and if I don’t get fresh air, my lungs feel tight…” Mrs. Gable snorted. “Oh, save it. You’re a menace. First, you ruin your own house, now you ruin the whole neighborhood.” “We’ve all been polite about it, but if you want to get technical, you’re the worst brat on this whole street.”

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The first time my wealthy parents found me, I was pregnant. And I didn’t even know who the father was. They were furious, declaring that the baby had to be aborted immediately to prevent it from staining the family’s reputation. But a thrill shot through me. So, my family was that powerful. Powerful enough to casually order the termination of a child belonging to the heir of the Thorne dynasty. This was… perfect. 1 “Amelia, darling, go get your sister a glass of water.” My mother squeezed my hand, her voice earnest as she addressed the girl who had been raised in my place. “From now on, you two must be like real sisters. No fighting, you hear me? We can’t have outsiders laughing at the Devereaux family.” Amelia nodded obediently, her expression perfectly demure. My father and brother watched the scene with satisfied smiles. She hurried to the kitchen and returned with a glass of ice water. “Here you go, sister.” My fingers brushed against the frosty glass, and I flinched, pulling my hand back with a touch of embarrassment. “I’m sorry, Amelia… I’m pregnant. I can’t have anything cold.” Amelia froze, her gaze dropping to my stomach with a strange, unreadable expression. In an instant, the air in the room went dead. My mother’s warm hand slipped away from mine, and a familiar sense of loss washed over me. 2 “You—you’re married?” “No.” “You have a boyfriend, then.” “No.” “You just graduated from high school.” “Yes.” “Who is the father?” “He’s… I don’t know.” 3 After the interrogation, a heavy, suffocating silence descended. The atmosphere was terrifying. All the warmth and excitement of our reunion had vanished. My parents and my brother stared at me, their eyes picking me apart, making my skin crawl. Amelia, meanwhile, sat quietly to the side, fiddling with her fingers in a way that was surprisingly hypnotic. After watching her for a while, I started doing it too. It actually helped calm my nerves. I was so absorbed that I didn’t notice the storm clouds gathering on the faces of the other three. Finally, my father broke the silence, his face a mask of thunder. “What the hell does that mean, you know but you don’t know?” 4 An image of a man immediately flashed into my mind. Proud, quiet, domineering… All I knew was that his last name was Thorne. I honestly had no idea what his first name was. Our meeting, according to him, was an accident. To me, it was the perfect cliché: the humble barmaid and the handsome billionaire. I remember looking down at him, drunk and devastatingly beautiful in my arms, his face a masterpiece of sharp lines and dark brows. When his hands started to wander, I lost all control and dragged him into the staff bathroom. I thought that would be it. A one-time thing. We’d go our separate ways and never see each other again. But he was like a ghost. He started appearing on my walk home from work. Inside my tiny rental apartment. In places I never expected. And each time, he would leave the wild marks of his possession on my skin. At first, I was lost in the thrill of it. But as time went on, I grew scared. I started avoiding him, hiding from him. It never worked. He always found me. “Why are you running?” he’d ask. “Aren’t you tired of me yet?” I’d shoot back. He would just laugh, a cold, humorless sound, before flipping me onto my back and pinning me beneath him once more. Then, about two weeks ago, he disappeared. I was ecstatic. I’m not an idiot. I’d seen his cars—the Rolls-Royce, the Bentley, and a whole collection of supercars I couldn’t even name. I think one of them was a Bugatti… His aura, the way he spoke, the power he carried… he was from a world I couldn’t even imagine, let alone aspire to. I had been lucky enough to have a taste of a man that beautiful. I was satisfied with that. Besides, he never gave me any money, so what else was I supposed to do? But then he was gone. And I was pregnant. I can’t deny that for a fleeting moment, I considered keeping it. Boy or girl, I knew my child would be beautiful. How could they not be, with a father that handsome? But I crushed the thought immediately. The baby was not an option. The grandmother who had raised me was gone. I was all alone. How was a single mother with a baby supposed to build a life, let alone find a husband? My future was a long, open road, and I didn’t want to spend it struggling. Still, I thought of his domineering nature, his raw power, his untamed temper. I was afraid that if I got rid of his child without his permission, he would find out and unleash his fury on me. That would be the end of me. I was trapped. Finally, I worked up the courage to send him a text. “I’m pregnant.” If I couldn’t decide, he would have to. Whatever the outcome, he couldn’t blame me. Three days passed. He never replied. I cursed him out for the scumbag he was, and then, in a fit of rage, I blocked him on everything. It was a little reckless, but damn, it felt good. Just as I was about to schedule an appointment at the clinic, my wealthy biological parents found me. They told me I was their long-lost daughter. It felt like a miracle. My life was finally looking up. Which brought me to this moment. As for the pregnancy, I never thought to hide it. Seeing the Mercedes they picked me up in, the opulent mansion they called home… I knew they had power. I figured that after I took care of the baby, if that Mr. Thorne ever came looking for me, my family could protect me. 5 I glanced nervously at my father, preparing to tell him the truth. “Dad, all I know is that his last name is Thorne.” You don’t even know his name? The look in their eyes shifted from disappointment to disgust. I lowered my head in shame, my hands twisting in my lap. My mother took a deep, steadying breath. “What are your plans?” “I want to get rid of it,” I said quickly, looking up. A collective sigh of relief went through the room. The tension in their shoulders eased. “But…” “But what?” my brother snapped, his patience wearing thin. “But he’s a very intimidating man,” I said, my voice trembling slightly. “I’m scared…” My brother cut me off with a derisive snort. “In the backwater town you came from? How intimidating could anyone possibly be?” My mother joined in, her voice laced with arrogance. “You’ve just returned, so you may not understand the Devereaux family’s standing. In this city, aside from a few old dynasties, we fear no one. Even if they’re richer than us, as long as they aren’t under the Thorne’s protection, we can handle them. Thorne, you say? It couldn’t possibly be…” She trailed off, looking at me, and then let out a small, dismissive laugh. A girl from the countryside and the heir to the Thorne dynasty? The idea was absurd. I could feel their contempt, but it didn’t sting as much as it should have. I was used to it. Growing up, my grandmother was the only one who ever stood up for me. No one else gave me a second glance. As long as this new family cared enough about their reputation not to abuse me openly, and maybe gave me some money, it was already a thousand times better than my old life. My father made the final decision. “Three days from now, your brother will take you to the clinic. You are a Devereaux by blood. To return to us unwed and pregnant is an utter disgrace.” I nodded. “Can’t we go tomorrow?” He turned away from me, as if he couldn’t bear the sight of me any longer. “We have an important family event in the coming days. You will attend with us. You’ll understand then.” “Okay, Dad.” A wave of relief washed over me. Three days wasn’t so long to wait. 6 “Brother, how many cars do we have?” I asked, running my hand over the sleek lines of a sports car in the garage, my eyes wide with wonder. My brother, sensing my awe, preened. “This is my Porsche 718. Pretty cool, right? Mom doesn’t like to drive. Dad has a Maybach, and your sister has a Porsche Panamera. All together, our cars are worth a few million.” “Wow,” I breathed, my voice filled with genuine admiration. “We’re so rich.” My praise seemed to please him. “You’ve been behaving yourself these last couple of days. If it weren’t for…” His eyes flicked to my stomach, and his tone cooled. “Tell you what. When Amelia gets tired of her car and wants a new one, I’ll have her give the old one to you. You are my sister, after all. Can’t have you embarrassing me when you go out.” My heart pounded with excitement. “Thank you, brother! You’re the best!” But deep down, a seed of unease was planted. I thought back to the man’s cars. They seemed… a lot more impressive than these. No. I shook the thought away. Stop thinking about that heartbreaker. Once the baby was gone and I had recovered, I would just be quiet, be good, and pick up the scraps this family offered me. It was still better than before. As for Mr. Thorne? We were in different cities, in different worlds. He was in Havenport; I was in the capital. He was probably just some local rich kid. Even if his family was wealthier than mine, what could he do to me now? 7 On the third day, I was dressed in one of Amelia’s old gowns and driven in her Panamera to the family’s five-star hotel. Amelia herself was a vision. She wore a stunning red dress, her makeup was flawless, and she was the center of attention everywhere she went. I was just a drab shadow at her side. “Sister, you really shouldn’t be at an event like this,” she whispered, her voice a mix of concern and condescension. “You’ll be nervous. Making a fool of yourself is one thing, but embarrassing the Devereaux family is another. Just remember to smile and keep quiet. The less you say, the fewer mistakes you make. Do you understand?” I nodded eagerly. “Don’t worry, sister. I’ll do exactly as you say.” Amelia offered a faint, satisfied smile, her eyes sweeping over me with disdain. She had clearly been preparing for a battle with me, but it turned out to be unnecessary. The “real” daughter had conveniently shown up pregnant with some nobody’s child, instantly ruining her standing with the family. Yesterday, our parents had hinted that I wouldn’t be seeing a penny of the family fortune. They would keep me around for a few years to maintain appearances, then marry me off to a business partner with a modest dowry. That would be the end of it. This outcome was perfect for Amelia, so she had no reason to make my life difficult. What was my name again? she thought. Ah, yes. Chloe. Chloe Devereaux. She continued to brief me on the evening’s dos and don’ts, and I listened intently, memorizing every detail.

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I envied the CEO’s sister Rachelle, whose desk neighbored mine. While I slaved 9-to-9 for 3K/month, she earned 300K doing nothing. She could even throw wine at investors—her brother made me apologize. Then the Clarkes learned Rachelle wasn’t their blood. I was. “They’ll see you as an intruder,” my friend warned. “And your brother’s obsession with her is psychotic.” I shrugged. “Who returns to wealth just to beg for love?” But if they dared give Rachelle even one share of mine—then we’d have a problem. 1 The Clarke family held a press conference for me. The great Miss Clarke, who used to sip bubble tea while dumping her work on my desk, was now sitting in the main seat, her eyes red and puffy. I found it strange. As the long-lost heiress being welcomed back, why was I seated in the secondary position? Just as I was about to make a statement, Rachelle suddenly stood up, burst into tears, and ran off. The moment she ran, my former boss and now-brother, CEO Leo Clarke, along with Mr. and Mrs. Clarke, all followed her out. The entire venue, with its thousand-plus attendees, was left staring at me. Me, all alone on the stage. My toes were curling in my shoes from the sheer awkwardness. I was contemplating telling a joke to lighten the mood when the sound system suddenly crackled to life with the voices of the Clarke family. “It’s okay, darling. We’re just acknowledging her. You are still the one and only princess of the Clarke family.” That was my father’s voice. Then came my brother’s. “Exactly, Rachelle. At the end of the day, she’s just an employee under my command. If she knows her place, I might grace her by calling her ‘sister.’ But if she tries to take anything that’s yours, I’ll kick her out of the company so fast her head will spin.” The crowd below started murmuring. “Oh no, they forgot to turn off their microphones!” I buried my face in my hands. I’d worked for that idiot Leo Clarke for years. A man so obsessed with public relations would never make such a rookie mistake. It was obvious. This was intentional. A public declaration of my status, a power play to put me in my place. The gazes that were once filled with envy now dripped with contempt. Then, my mother’s voice. “Don’t you worry, sweetie. We just won’t let her move into the manor. You’ll still be the only princess there.” The scrutinizing glares of the crowd felt like they were physically burning my skin. Anyone else would have scurried off the stage in shame. But I stayed glued to my chair, waiting for the full fifteen minutes it took for them to return. When they saw me still sitting there, brazenly refusing to leave, their faces darkened. They clearly hadn’t expected me to be this shameless. What a joke. I’d finally gotten my ticket to the high life. Only a fool would give it up over a few stupid comments. “Ahem, well, Melissa,” my mother began, her voice strained. “You’ve come back so suddenly, we haven’t had time to prepare a room for you. Why don’t you stay in your apartment for now? I’ll give you a living allowance. You can find a nicer place.” A ten-thousand-square-foot manor, and they needed time to “prepare” a room? It was just a flimsy excuse to keep me out. Rachelle, hiding behind my mother, shot me a triumphant smirk. I nodded. “Fine.” My CEO brother gave me a look that screamed, Good, you know your place. “But,” I said, my tone shifting, “since I’m back, a living allowance can’t be all there is, right?” I locked eyes with them. “I heard you prepared a portfolio of shares for ‘sister.’ Where’s mine?” Their jaws dropped. 2 Leo was clearly used to ordering me around. He slipped right back into his boss-to-subordinate attitude. “What nonsense are you talking about? Are you in any position to be asking for that?” I nodded and stood up. “Alright then. I see you’re not sincere about welcoming me back. In that case, I won’t bother.” And I actually started to walk away. My mother rushed to stop me. They were a prominent family, after all. The news of the switched-at-birth scandal had already spread. If it got out that their real daughter refused to acknowledge them, it would be a major embarrassment. “We need to discuss the shares. We’ll give them to you later.” “No. Now.” We’re all adults here. Did they really think I’d fall for such a transparent delay tactic? Leo frowned. “Stop making a scene!” “Look at this,” I said, addressing the room. “As your biological daughter and sister, you won’t even let me live in my own home, and you’re refusing to give me any compensation. What’s the point of this sham press conference?” “And I’m guessing these reporters are your trained dogs, too? I’m leaving.” “Sister!” Rachelle called out, her eyes red. She bit her lip, the corners of her eyes flushed. “You… you’ve misunderstood. What I meant was… I was afraid you wouldn’t be used to the new environment, so I thought it would be better for you to stay in your apartment for a while.” I laughed. “Miss Clarke, only the rich have trouble adjusting to a poor person’s home. Have you ever heard of a poor person not being able to adapt to a grand manor?” Rachelle’s eyes grew redder, tears threatening to fall. “I… I’m sorry. I’ll have you come home then…” Leo stepped in front of her. “If you don’t know how to talk, then keep your mouth shut.” “And what business is it of yours?” I shot back. Leo was stunned. As his corporate workhorse, I’d always been smiles on the outside, curses on the inside. “Mr. Clarke, you’re my brother now. Is it appropriate for you to still be using that tone with me, as if I’m your subordinate?” Leo’s brow furrowed. I stepped right past him and looked at the still-crying Rachelle. “And you, Miss Clarke, don’t have to look so wronged. After all, I should have been living in this home from the day I was born.” 3 In the Rolls-Royce, the family sat in a heavy, brooding silence. My mother would occasionally dab at Rachelle’s tears. Only I, sitting in a Rolls-Royce for the first time, ignored everyone’s glares and curiously touched everything, from the plush leather to the intricate stitching. Just as I was admiring the starlight headliner, my mother spoke. “The young master of the Hayes family will be here to pick us up soon. You can get to know him.” I caught the hesitation in her voice. “What’s the relationship between the Hayes family and us?” Leo answered impatiently, “An arranged marriage.” I instinctively looked at Rachelle. “Then it should be with ‘sister,’ right?” Rachelle bit her lower lip, her fingers clenching the fabric of her skirt. Leo sneered. “Of course. They’ve known each other for twenty-six years. You can’t compare.” My mother tried to smooth things over. “Melissa, we respect your wishes. Although the agreement was for you and Adrian to be engaged, Rachelle has grown up with him all these years.” “If you don’t like him, we won’t force you.” I picked at the car’s decal. If I couldn’t understand my own mother’s subtle hints, then all my years in the corporate world would have been for nothing. I met Adrian Hayes soon after. Tall, with long legs, easily six-foot-one. He was my type. But Rachelle beat me to it, flinging open the car door. “Adrian!” She threw herself into his arms. She didn’t say anything. She just cried. Adrian was flustered for a moment, then he looked up and saw me. His brow furrowed. Rachelle, sobbing, pulled away from him as if she’d just remembered something. She pushed Adrian towards me. “I’m sorry, sister. I… I didn’t mean anything by it. I’m not trying to take Adrian from you…” Adrian gave Rachelle a surprised look. Rachelle bit her lip, tears streaming down her face. “Go on. You were the one betrothed to him at birth… I… I’m just a fake…” Watching his long-time love offer him up in pain, a flash of pity crossed Adrian’s eyes. He shot me a look. It was ice-cold. “I don’t like her.” “No, Adrian.” Rachelle shook her head. “You and she are the real arranged marriage.” I raised my hand. “Uh…” “I don’t like her, and that’s final. I only like you,” Adrian said, completely ignoring me. I cleared my throat. “Excuse me, I was trying to say…” “Forget it, Adrian. My sister is back now…” Rachelle wept. “Hello?” “So what if she’s back? A low-class girl from the gutter thinks she can take what’s yours?” “But…” “Are you two done?!” I was genuinely angry now. Rachelle quickly stepped in front of Adrian. “Sister! I won’t fight with you over him, don’t misunderstand! I know my place!” “You really want to give him to me?” I stared at her. Rachelle froze for a second, then sobbed. “Of course…” “Fine.” Rachelle’s eyes went wide. Adrian refused. “I’m not interested in you.” “Is that for you to decide?” I lifted my chin. “I heard our families signed some kind of agreement for our betrothal. You can marry my ‘sister,’ no problem. Just pay the breach of contract penalty.” The agreement was signed in jest years ago, but the penalty fee was astronomically high. Even though it was a joke, if I wanted to be serious about it, it was legally enforceable. Adrian gritted his teeth. “See? If you don’t want to pay up, then you’ll marry me.” Adrian’s fists were clenched tight. I raised an eyebrow at Rachelle. “Thank you for your generosity, sister.” “Sister!” Rachelle suddenly dropped to her knees with a thud. 4 If you had told me a day ago that the pampered princess from the desk next to mine would be kneeling and kowtowing to me, I would have thought I’d gone insane. But Rachelle really did it, bowing her head so hard her forehead turned red. “I’m begging you, please let us be together! Even though you and Adrian have an arranged marriage, you’re the true heiress of the Clarke family. You can have anything you want in the future.” “But I… I only have Adrian…” Adrian immediately pulled her into his arms, glaring at me. “Don’t go too far!” Leo also gave me a harsh shove. “You’re bullying her again!” My parents rushed over, embracing Rachelle and murmuring comforting words. My mother looked at me. “Melissa, don’t make things difficult for your sister.” “I’m not making things difficult for her.” I walked towards Rachelle, step by step. “Your sister was the one who said she would give him to me. And I confirmed it with you, didn’t I?” “Since you were so sure about giving him to me, why are you acting like I stole him from you now that I’ve actually taken him?” I squatted down in front of Rachelle. “If you don’t want to give something away, then don’t offer it. Because otherwise, I will really take it.” Rachelle shrank back into Leo’s arms, looking terrified. I stood up with a cold laugh, glancing at the furious Adrian. “Don’t be so nervous. I was just kidding about wanting you. You’re not my type.” Adrian’s breath hitched. He gritted his teeth in frustration. Strange. When I said I wanted him, he wasn’t interested. When I told him the truth, that I wasn’t interested, he was still unhappy. 5 The next morning, a Van Cleef & Arpels necklace was presented to me as soon as I woke up. Seeing my parents’ smiling faces, I knew something was up. Sure enough, my mother began. “Melissa, dear, we’ve thought about the shares. We will definitely give them to you.” “However, the transfer of shares we had previously decided on for Rachelle has already gone through. If you can just wait until the company grows a bit more, we will give you every single share that you’re entitled to.” My father chimed in. “That’s right. You are our biological daughter. Don’t worry.” So that’s what this was about. Yesterday, the shares hadn’t been transferred. I go to sleep for one night, and suddenly they’re in Rachelle’s hands. This didn’t look like a family planning to leave me my inheritance. But… I picked up the necklace, worth less than ten thousand dollars, and my eyes reddened. “Okay… you are my parents, after all…” Seeing this, a flicker of pity crossed my mother’s eyes. I continued to wipe away my fake tears. “I know I wasn’t raised by you. Even though I’m your biological daughter, I’ll never have the same treatment as my sister.” “I understand. I won’t ask for a single share. You don’t have to worry.” “How can you say that, child!” My mother pulled me into her arms. “You are our daughter. That will never change!” My father nodded. “We’re happy that you’re so understanding, but you mustn’t say such things.” I sniffled. “Do you really love me?” “Of course! What parents don’t love their children!” “Then… can you transfer me to the overseas division? I don’t want shares. Just let me manage the division.” They both froze. 6 I was nervous when I made that request. I was afraid they’d see my ambition. Initially, I did want the inheritance that was rightfully mine. But after coming home and seeing how this family operated, it was clear that the Clarke company wouldn’t last another few decades with their kind of thinking. Leo was in charge of the domestic market. I couldn’t get a foothold there, and my parents would never hand over that kind of power to me. The only potential breakthrough for me was the overseas market. I wasn’t interested in the Clarke family’s shares anymore. I wanted real, tangible power in my own hands. Maybe my acting was good enough, or maybe my parents still had some lingering affection for me, but they agreed. They even added a condition. “Good girl, work hard. If you can expand the overseas market, any extra profits will be all yours!” My eyes lit up. “Really?” “Really.” “Then you have to sign an agreement!” I had someone draw up a contract in record time. They were a little taken aback, but they signed it. They thought I was just a low-level employee. What they didn’t know was that the only reason I hadn’t climbed higher was because Leo’s cronies were jealously guarding every promotion path. All I needed was an opening. Even a tiny one. I would tear it open, whatever the cost, and fight my way out. But at the dinner table, when Rachelle found out I was leaving, her eyes immediately reddened. She stood up, ready to leave. The family quickly pulled her back. She looked at me with a wounded expression. “Sister, are you applying for an overseas transfer because you don’t want to live with me?” “If you don’t want to see me, I can move out. I can even live in your old apartment.” “No!” Leo frowned. “That dump is no place for you. If anyone’s living there, it should be her!” I clenched my chopsticks. This idiot boss was as infuriating as ever. “But if I don’t leave, my sister will… I’m just the fake heiress. You’ve all loved me by mistake for so many years. How can I take what’s rightfully hers?” My parents, full of pity, put down their chopsticks and pulled her into their arms. “Melissa, don’t make things difficult for your sister. Just forget it.” “That’s right. We’ll give you a comfortable, do-nothing position here in the country. We’ve canceled your flight.” A do-nothing position? Was that what I’d been fighting for with this group of lunatics? “Then I’m leaving.” I put down my chopsticks and actually walked out. My parents grabbed me. “Why are you being so difficult? Your sister is so upset, and you’re still throwing a tantrum!” “Do I even have the right to throw a tantrum?” They were stunned. “You won’t give me shares, you won’t even let me try my hand at the failing overseas market. What standing do I have in your hearts that would even support a tantrum?” “You’re not sincere, and I’m not going to be a freeloader.” I pulled my arm free and strode away. A maid quickly stopped me. I don’t know what my parents said to Rachelle that night. But she finally stopped her theatrics. Later that night, on my way to the bathroom, I overheard my parents talking. “Let her go if she wants to. The overseas market has been losing money for a year. What can a low-level employee like her do?” “She’ll have to come crawling back to us to bail her out.” “She’ll know she was wrong, and then she won’t be so hard on our Rachelle.” I sneered. I left without a sound. The next day, my parents and Leo, who were supposed to see me off, were nowhere to be found. They called me. “Rachelle’s puppy is sick, we have to take her to the vet. You’re more independent, so we won’t see you off. Be safe on your journey.” And they hung up. I was at the airport, and I couldn’t help but laugh. Good thing I had already arranged for a car and hadn’t actually waited for them. But with me gone, they would have no control over me anymore. Whether I was just a low-level employee or someone more qualified than Leo to run the company, they would soon find out.

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A run in my stockings right before a job interview. In a panic, I called my rival. “Are you out of your car yet? Come give me a hand.” A stubborn voice on the other end. “I’m not following you.” I didn’t even look up from my ruined legwear. “You copy my outfits, my makeup, even my perfume, every single day. Now get over here. I can smell you.” 1 The other end of the line erupted in a flurry of flustered, girly squeaks. After what felt like an eternity, she finally calmed down enough to answer. “Okay… just give me a minute.” I hung up without another word, only to turn and find my best friend, Maya, staring at me with a look of pure confusion. “Who was that? So on-call for you?” “Trevor’s little lapdog.” Maya’s eyes went wide. “Holy shit, Chloe. You’ve got guts, asking your rival for a favor.” “She’s not really a rival. She’s just a simp for Trevor. I doubt he even remembers her name.” Maya let out a breath of relief. “That’s true. Half the campus is crushing on him, but you’re the only girl he ever actually looks at.” She paused. “So, is this girl pretty?” I thought for a moment. “I guess so. She just doesn’t have her own style. She copies everything I wear.” We walked into the office building and found the restroom to await the stocking delivery. Suddenly, Maya started shaking me by the shoulders. “She copies you? Everything? Oh my god, do you think she’s trying to replicate your path to success?” Her eyes grew wider. “Or maybe she’s into some weird voodoo shit! Trying to steal your luck by mimicking you! What if your recent string of failed interviews is her doing?!” I was stunned by the sheer chaos of her imagination. That little pipsqueak, practicing dark arts? Her big, innocent eyes practically screamed, “I am a simple, harmless creature.” The thought of her—with all her wide-eyed, collegiate naivety—trying to curse me was almost laughable. “I wish she’d try something,” I snorted. “Unfortunately, my job-hopping saga is entirely orchestrated by my dear old dad. He can’t stand any place I choose to work. My whole life is a puppet show he directs. If she wants to stir the pot, I say bring it on. My life could use the spice.” Maya rolled her eyes, a pained expression on her face like she was staring at a class enemy. “You’re living the dream and you don’t even know it. But what if she actually manages to steal Trevor away from you?” I considered it. “That would be great.” After all, Trevor’s entire contribution to our relationship consisted of three daily texts: Have you had breakfast? Have you had lunch? Have you had dinner? Having a boyfriend like that was pointless, not to mention the moral pressure it put on me not to look at other guys. Honestly, it would be better if he was gone. But since my father had set us up, I couldn’t be the one to break it off. If someone else was chasing him, I could just let nature take its course. Once they got together, I could play the victim and end things. I’d like to see my dad try to argue with that. Before Maya could say another word, my phone buzzed. It was my little copycat, Nina. “Chloe? I’m right outside the door. But… could you ask your friend to step out for a second? I’m a little shy.” 2 I had to laugh. She shadowed my every move, imitated my entire life, and now she was shy. Interesting. Maya left the restroom to wait for me in the lobby. I leaned against the marble sink, waiting. From outside the door, I heard a few deep, steadying breaths. Then, a small head peeked in. Her eyes were huge, blinking rapidly, her cheeks flushed a delicate pink. When she finally stepped all the way inside, her hands were knotted together at her stomach, twisting nervously. She was like a kitten. This was the college girl who was supposedly my rival? This adorable thing? “Chloe… what did you need my help with?” Even her voice was soft and sweet. I pushed myself off the counter and gave her a slow once-over, from head to toe. “Your stockings. Are they intact?” “Huh?” Nina quickly looked down, checking her legs. “Yes, they’re fine.” “Good. Take one off and give it to me.” I held her gaze, not letting her look away. “Um… well…” Her ears turned a flaming red, and her eyes started to well up. “Chloe, did you get a run in yours? I can run out and buy you a new pair right now.” “You know this brand isn’t easy to find.” I took a step closer to her. “Everything you’re wearing right now, from your dress to your shoes, is the exact same as mine. Taking one of your stockings isn’t asking too much, is it?” “I… I didn’t mean to make you angry,” she whispered, her lip trembling. “Take it off,” I said, my voice hardening. If she kept dawdling, my interview would be shot, no paternal interference needed. Nina bit her lip, her face pale as she carefully peeled off one of her stockings and handed it to me. I took it, gave it a little shake, and slid it onto my own leg. This girl… she was about my height and had a similar build. She’d make a perfect mobile backup wardrobe. When I finished adjusting it and looked up, Nina was covering her mouth and nose, her eyes bloodshot and crimson. Oh. Did she think I was some kind of creep? I cleared my throat. “I’m not taking it for free. I’ll buy you a new pair.” Nina just shook her head, her hand clamped tightly over her mouth. I thought for a moment. There were many kinds of creeps; I shouldn’t let her get the wrong idea. “And if you dare tell anyone about this,” I threatened, “I’ll strip you of every last piece of clothing you copied from me!” That… probably made me sound even more like a creep. “Mmmph,” she mumbled, her head bobbing between a nod and a shake, before she turned and bolted out of the restroom without a backward glance. Damn. Did my pervy act scare the poor girl off for good? 3 I smoothed down my outfit and walked out to meet Maya, who was practically vibrating with curiosity. “What did you do to her?” I lifted my leg slightly, showing her the pristine stocking. Maya frowned. “You took hers?” “Yup.” Her jaw dropped. “I just offered you mine and you said no! But you’ll turn around and bully your rival for hers? Aren’t you afraid she’ll run to Trevor and tell him what a psycho you are?” I linked my arm with hers as we headed for the elevator. “Relax. She has the desire, but not the nerve.” It was about a year ago that I first noticed a girl constantly staring at Trevor. I was about to graduate, and he was a junior. He’d thrown a party with a few close friends to celebrate my “homecoming to inherit the family business,” and Nina was the only stranger he’d brought along. “This is Nina,” he’d announced. “She’s a freshman from one of my clubs. Totally invisible, so she’s perfect for serving us drinks.” I was instantly annoyed. Trevor could be thoughtless, but he never used his family’s status to look down on people. What he was doing now—whether it was bullying her or some bizarre attempt to introduce her to our social circle—was deeply unpleasant. But Nina didn’t seem to mind at all. With her bright, kitten-like eyes, she actually started going around asking everyone what they wanted to drink. When she got to me, however, she became exceptionally nervous, fumbling for much longer than with anyone else. Once the drinks were served, she retreated to a dark corner, a small, shadowy figure melting into the background. She didn’t look at Trevor, nor did she try to talk to anyone. Just like he said, she was completely invisible. I found it intriguing, so I brought a glass of soda over to her. “Want something to drink?” “No, thank you. I need to look after everyone.” I couldn’t help but smile. “It’s just soda.” “Oh.” She took the glass, sniffed it cautiously, and then took a tiny sip. “Thank you… Chloe.” “You came here with Trevor,” I said, getting straight to the point. “You know he has a girlfriend, and that girlfriend is me. Right?” “I know.” “And you still came, trying to steal him away. You’re pretty bold.” “I… Chloe, please don’t misunderstand. I didn’t come for Trevor, I… I…” She started choking on her words, but she remembered to grab my hand. “I came because…” Before she could finish, Trevor appeared at our side. “Chloe, what are you doing? Why did you push her? She’s choking.” Excuse me? I shot a look at Nina. She immediately jumped to her feet, her stutter gone. “It has nothing to do with Chloe! I choked all by myself!” Trevor’s face darkened. “Trevor, don’t be mad at her,” Nina pleaded. “It was all my fault.” Wow. The textbook victim play. The atmosphere froze. One of our friends stepped in. “Nina, that was some seriously manipulative BS. Can you just stop? And Trevor, Chloe is your actual girlfriend. Get a grip on who you’re supposed to be defending.” He turned to me. “Come on, Chloe. Let’s not waste our time with them. Let’s get a drink.” After that, Nina was left alone in her corner. This time, she was so enveloped by the darkness I could barely see her. She didn’t say another word to Trevor for the rest of the night. But every now and then, I’d feel her anxious, mournful gaze drift over to me. Oh, for heaven’s sake. With her red-rimmed eyes and trembling demeanor, she was just too damn cute. I bet she’d be back pestering Trevor tomorrow. Good. I couldn’t wait to see her again. 4 To my surprise, the next day she wasn’t trailing Trevor. She was trailing me. The moment I stepped out of my apartment, I saw Nina hiding not-so-subtly, pretending to be on her phone while she watched me. I went to grab breakfast. Before my seat was even warm, she had bought the exact same pastry and tucked it into her bag. I went shopping. In the blink of an eye, she had managed to find and change into the same outfit I was wearing. Damn it. I’d revealed my favorite boutiques to her. Still, there was something strangely thrilling about seeing her in my clothes. Was my style really that captivating? And what did it say about Trevor? Was it my face or my fashion that had won him over? I called Trevor to meet me and pointed to Nina, who was attempting to hide behind a large tree. “Who’s prettier, me or her?” “You are,” Trevor said, without a flicker of interest. “Look closer,” I urged. “Nina is wearing the exact same outfit as me today.” “Even in the exact same outfit, you’re prettier,” he stated flatly. “So it’s my face you’re attracted to?” I smirked. Trevor rubbed the back of his neck. “Chloe, what’s this about? You know it’s your dad’s face that really attracts me.” We both burst out laughing. So Nina’s mimicry was useless. What Trevor was really after was my father’s fortune. Hearing our laughter, Nina, leaning against her tree, stumbled as if she’d been struck. Look at her, all flustered. She wanted to steal my man but only had the guts to eavesdrop from a distance. It was both pathetic and adorable. From then on, Nina followed me everywhere, copying my clothes, my shoes, my perfume, right down to my hair ties. And whenever Trevor and I had a date, she would magically appear, contriving some reason to be there, trying to make her presence known. A waitress in a coffee shop. A ball girl at the tennis court. Selling popcorn at the movie theater. You name it, she’d done it. It got to the point where, on my dates with Trevor, I found myself looking forward to Nina’s next surprise appearance. The unexpected, the playful, the shy… each new persona sent a thrill of mischievous delight through me. Ugh. Who was she really doing all this for? 5 The interview ended. As expected, thanks to a preemptive call from my father, I did not get the job. But I wasn’t mad. You work to earn money, and the allowance my dad gave me was more than enough. My little excursions into the corporate world were just a game to add some “father-daughter bonding” excitement to our otherwise dull lives. Maya, who had kept me company all morning, got called away by her boyfriend. I remembered I had a boyfriend too, so I gave Trevor a call. “Are you busy?” “Nope.” “Want to go on a date?” “Actually, I am a little busy.” So childish. I hung up and opened a photo Trevor’s roommate had just sent me. There was Trevor, in a secluded grove on campus, his arms around a girl, “tutoring” her on vocabulary with his lips. And standing behind a large rock, radiating a storm cloud of resentment, was Nina. Sigh. Looks like she was finally realizing that copying my wardrobe wasn’t going to work. I called her. Her voice was thick and muffled when she answered. “Chloe.” The raw hurt in that single word made my heart ache. “Meet me at the campus gate. I’m bringing your stocking back.” I drove straight to the university and picked up a red-eyed, puffy-faced Nina. “Crying this hard,” I asked with a gentle smile. “You must really be in love with him, huh?” “I’m not,” she mumbled, turning her head to stare out the window. “You’re not crying, or you’re not in love?” “Not in love!” She whipped her head back to face me. Interesting. “You’ve been chasing him for a year, and you’re not in love? You’re crying your eyes out because you saw him kissing another girl, and you’re not in love?” “That’s because…” Nina started, clearly agitated, but then she paused, composing herself. “I feel bad for you. He has an amazing girlfriend like you, and he still cheats!” The car fell silent. I swallowed hard, replaying the dynamics between the three of us in my head. Was she upset because Trevor was kissing someone else, or because Trevor was betraying me? But then, didn’t she ever think that her constant pursuit of him might hurt me? “Nina, you…” I pulled the car over into a parking spot and turned to face her fully. Nina kept her head down, her eyes still red, twisting the hem of her skirt. She’d changed back at her dorm and was now wearing an outfit identical to one I often wore during my senior year. “Nina,” I asked softly, “are you in love with me?” Her head snapped up, her eyes wide with shock. As she moved, her soft lips brushed against my cheek. “I’m so sorry, so sorry!” Her face turned a deep crimson. “I didn’t mean to. I mean, yes, I like you, but I’m not a freak, I just…” What was I supposed to do? This flustered, panicked version of her was like a startled fawn. Oh, damn. My heart was about to go into overdrive.

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The day the star salesman came to get his team-building expenses reimbursed, I rejected the claim without even looking up. “Can’t do it. The budget’s been used up.” He stared at me, his face a mask of disbelief. “It’s the first of the month! How can there be no money? We have a hundred-dollar budget per person!” But I held my ground. He finally lost his temper and stormed off to complain to the big boss. “Sir! You can’t let her get away with this! She’s intentionally trying to screw over my team!” “If she won’t approve the budget, how am I supposed to keep morale up?” “This isn’t just penny-pinching; she’s trying to tank the whole company!” Seeing that things had finally blown up, I rose with a calm smile and pulled the last six months of receipts from my desk drawer… 1 When Rick Harrison’s expense report landed on my desk, I didn’t even raise an eyebrow. My fingers danced across the keyboard, typing the last digit of a spreadsheet. Only after saving the file did I pick up the thin sheet of paper. His flamboyant signature sprawled across the bottom, and the amount in the box was a glaringly large number. “Can’t be approved.” I pushed the form back towards him, my voice flat and steady. “This month’s budget has already been exhausted.” The smug grin on Rick’s face froze, as if he hadn’t quite heard me. “What? Sarah, say that again.” I finally looked up, meeting his gaze directly. “I said, the administrative budget for this month… is gone.” “Impossible!” He slammed his palm down on my desk, drawing the eyes of the entire office. “It’s the first of the month!” “The company standard for team events is a hundred dollars a head per month. The sales department has over a hundred people. That’s a ten-thousand-dollar credit line, and you’re telling me it’s gone?” A younger salesman standing behind him immediately chimed in. “Yeah, Sarah. Our team just won a huge contract. What’s wrong with a celebratory dinner?” “You’re new here, maybe you don’t get how things work, but you can’t just shut us down like this.” “Seriously, she has no people skills.” “So petty.” “It’s not like we do this every month!” The murmurs from his team buzzed around me like a swarm of flies. I ignored them, my focus remaining locked on Rick. Seeing that I wouldn’t budge, his confusion morphed into fury. His face flushed a deep red as he pointed a finger at my nose. “Sarah, are you deliberately trying to make my life difficult?” “Don’t think for a second that sitting in that chair gives you power over the sales department! We’re the ones making money for this company, not taking crap from some bean-counter!” I leaned back in my chair, letting his spittle fly, my tone still infuriatingly calm. “Mr. Harrison, rules are rules.” “Your team’s overages from last month were automatically deducted from this month’s budget, as per financial policy.” “Therefore, as of midnight on the first, this month’s budget was already zeroed out.” My words echoed clearly into every corner of the office. An immediate, deathly silence fell, broken only by the hum of the central air conditioning. The expressions of my colleagues, who had been enjoying the show, shifted. There was pity, a little scorn, but mostly, the detached indifference of people who were glad it wasn’t them. They probably thought I was insane. A new accountant, daring to go head-to-head with the company’s golden boy, the untouchable top salesman. What could possibly cost that much? they were likely thinking. She probably just doesn’t want to release that much cash at the beginning of the month. Rick was speechless, choked by my logic. His chest heaved. He had likely never encountered a situation where his usual tactics hit a wall of solid steel. Finally, he squeezed out a sentence through gritted teeth. “Fine, Sarah. You just wait.” 2 He snatched the expense report, crumpled it into a tight ball, and slammed it into the trash can by my desk before storming out and letting the door crash shut behind him. The sound was so loud it made the pen holder on my desk tremble. The tense air in the office finally loosened with his departure. Someone shot me a quick “good luck with that” look before rapidly ducking their head and pretending to be busy. Expressionless, I retrieved the wadded-up paper from the trash can, smoothed it out, and filed it away in a dedicated folder. They all thought this was the first time I had angered Rick, that I was just a naive greenhorn who didn’t know how to play the game. Only I knew this wasn’t the first time at all. Rick’s expense reports were a creative work of fiction, filed with a frequency that was simply breathtaking. Dinners and karaoke nights were standard, but he’d even had the audacity to submit receipts from high-end spas and massage parlors. Each time, he’d just toss the slips on my desk with a charming smile. “Sarah, it’s all for team morale. Just cover it for now, and I’ll get the paperwork pushed through right away.” His “pushing it through” meant never mentioning it again. When I first started, I hadn’t yet figured out the lay of the land and had fronted over two thousand dollars of my own money. That sum still sits on my personal ledger like an unclaimed bad debt. I had asked him about it twice. The first time, he laughed it off, saying he forgot and would handle it in a couple of days. The second time, he was holding court in the middle of the office, surrounded by his underlings, boasting about a million-dollar contract he’d just signed. I simply walked over and quietly reminded him about the reimbursement. In front of everyone, he slammed his coffee mug down on the table. The sound wasn’t deafening, but it was enough to silence the entire sales department. He looked at me as if I were an annoying child, his voice slow and dripping with undisguised contempt. “A couple grand? Is that why you keep hounding me? I close million-dollar deals. You think I’m going to stiff you for that?” A wave of suppressed snickers rippled through the department. Their stares felt like needles piercing my skin. From that day on, I never mentioned the money again. They all thought I’d backed down, that I was a coward who could be silenced by a single sharp word from the star salesman. Rick, in turn, became even more brazen, taking my compliance and personal expense for granted. I never said a word in my defense. I just kept collecting the evidence, piece by piece. I was waiting for him to roll his snowball of lies until it was so big he could no longer hide it himself. I was waiting for the day when all his bad debts would explode at once, nailing him—and his so-called “achievements”—to the company’s ledger for good, with no chance of recovery. I looked at the folder, at the carefully smoothed-out receipts that documented his greed, and a cold smile touched my lips. Patience, Rick. That day is coming very, very soon. 3 The next day, my desk became the epicenter of a storm. At 5:59 PM, Mike, Rick’s most trusted lieutenant, dropped a two-foot-high stack of documents on my desk with a loud thud. “Sarah, urgent. These fifty contracts have to be mailed out tonight. The clients are waiting.” I glanced at the wall clock. The minute hand ticked over to twelve. The office filled with the sounds of people packing up to leave for the day. Mike’s voice cut through the noise, dripping with unconcealed provocation. I said nothing. I just pulled the mountain of contracts towards me and began the tedious process of verifying addresses, checking signatures, and sealing each one in a courier envelope. The office emptied out. The lights went out one by one, leaving only the stark white glare of the lamp above my head. Outside, the city sank into darkness. My desk was the last remaining pinprick of light in the entire office building. By the time I dragged my exhausted body out of the building, it was nearly midnight. And that was only the beginning. When I went to the breakroom to get water, someone would always “accidentally” bump into me. Scalding hot water would splash onto the back of my hand or drench a stack of freshly printed documents. The apologies were always flimsy and insincere, accompanied by a few stifled giggles from the sidelines. I would just blot the soaked pages with paper towels, lay them out to dry on the radiator, and watch the ink bleed into illegible smudges. The breakroom became their stage. Rick and his cronies would make a point of gathering there whenever I was heating up my lunch. “Man, look at what some women wear to work. Looks like she got dressed in a barn…” “All she does is pinch pennies. No wonder she’ll be stuck as a junior clerk for life.” “I know, right? No awareness at all. Treats the company’s money like it’s her own household budget, counting every last cent.” “Someone like that will never get anywhere.” Their voices were pitched at the perfect volume for me, and everyone else within earshot, to hear everything. I’d just take my container from the microwave, turn, and walk away, their laughter growing louder and more unrestrained behind me. The rumors started to spread, silent and venomous. There were a few different versions, but they all boiled down to one thing: Me, Sarah, was holding a grudge because Rick had publicly put me in my place. I was abusing my position to block the entire sales department’s reimbursements in a petty act of revenge, threatening to derail the company’s bottom line. Colleagues who had been neutral, even friendly, began to look at me differently. They started deliberately avoiding me, ducking into another hallway if they saw me coming. They’d rather wait for the next elevator than share the small space with me. I was completely, utterly isolated. I had become the office pariah. A small-minded, vindictive woman with no “big-picture” thinking, who was letting a personal feud threaten the company’s very survival. Through it all, I continued to arrive on time, process the mountains of work on my desk, and ignore the deliberate obstructions and glares. My silence, in their eyes, was an admission of guilt, a stubborn refusal to see reason. Seeing that I still wouldn’t “admit my mistake,” Rick finally lost his patience. That afternoon, I watched him and several of his key salespeople walk into the office of our boss, Mr. Peterson. I knew he was about to play his trump card. 4 Half an hour later, the internal line rang. A cold, female voice came through the receiver. “Sarah, Mr. Peterson wants to see you in his office.” I put down my pen, smoothed my clothes, and walked over. Pushing open the heavy wooden door, I stepped into a room thick with tension. Mr. Peterson sat behind his large desk, his brow furrowed. Rick stood beside him, a subtle, triumphant glint in his eyes. He even shot me a look of feigned sorrow and helplessness. The man could act. “Sarah,” Mr. Peterson’s voice was heavy, laced with clear annoyance. “What on earth has been going on with you lately?” I remained silent, waiting. “Rick has told me everything. You’re just approving an expense report. Do you really need to be this difficult?” “The sales team is in an uproar. Morale is at an all-time low.” “Several of my top performers have come to me saying they’re losing motivation, that they’re thinking of leaving!” Mr. Peterson’s fingers tapped a sharp rhythm on his desk. “Do you have any idea what it costs to train a core salesperson?” “They are the heart of this company! They’re the heroes who put food on all of our tables!” He paused, his tone growing sharper. “Rick and his team are out there fighting tooth and nail for deals, and they have to come back to the office and beg you for a little team-building money?” “What are you doing? You need to have more of a service mindset! Don’t be so rigid!” “The rules are just guidelines, Sarah. People are what matter! Do I really need to teach you that?” Every word was a judgment. I looked over at Rick. He could no longer hide his glee. The corner of his mouth curved into the smirk of a victor. His eyes were full of contempt and mockery, as if to say, See? You can’t win against me. So, this was it. The rot in this company went this deep. The “heroes” could ignore the rules. The “heart” could do whatever it wanted. He probably had no idea how much company money was being siphoned off, written off as the small cost of “maintaining morale.” My own heart turned to ice, but my expression remained unchanged. I lowered my gaze to my own clean fingernails and spoke calmly. “Okay, Mr. Peterson. I’ll be more careful.” No excuses. No arguments. Mr. Peterson seemed satisfied with my “cooperation.” His expression softened, and he waved a dismissive hand. “Alright, you can go. I know you’re very capable. Just work on communicating better with Mr. Harrison. I expect you two to cooperate from now on.” I nodded, turned, and pulled open the door. Outside, the entire sales department was “coincidentally” loitering nearby. The moment I stepped out, all eyes snapped to me, like a volley of poisoned arrows. Rick and his team followed me out, their faces beaming with undisguised, triumphant smiles. I knew that look. It was the look of the strong crushing the weak, the thrill of stepping on an ant that dared to challenge them. The very air in the office had changed, thick with suffocating ridicule. I could feel their stares on my back, peeling my skin, breaking my bones. I walked back to my cubicle, step by step, and sat down. It was terrifyingly quiet. Even the sound of keyboards had stopped. Everyone was watching a silent play, and I was the lone clown. I clenched my fists under the desk, my nails digging so deep into my palms that they stung.

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1 My first major case back in Weston Bay was my husband’s—for soliciting a prostitute. The file lay open, the black-and-white print a blur. “Captain Vance,” my subordinate Miller said, “this is Derek Croft, Weston Bay’s richest man, and his girlfriend. The city’s favorite couple—silver fox and ingénue. That age gap’s their whole appeal.” He smirked. “She called the cops on him yesterday as a joke. Lovers’ game.” I walked to the mediation room. Through the ajar door, I saw Derek on his knees, wiping a milk tea stain off his girlfriend’s shoe with his seven-figure suit. “Are you stupid?” she pouted. “I called the cops on you.” Derek gazed up, eyes adoring. “My little star, I’d give you my life.” The hallway lights flickered. My heart sank into darkness. If they wanted to play games with the law, I’d ensure he faced the consequences. … Clutching the summons, I turned to Miller behind me. “Take them to an interrogation room. By the book.” Miller froze, a troubled look crossing his face. “Captain… is that really necessary? You just got back, you might not know, but Mr. Croft is…” “I don’t care who he is,” I cut him off, my voice turning to ice. “Filing a false report wastes police resources and disrupts public order. He will be investigated. The law doesn’t have a VIP entrance.” Chastened, Miller mumbled a quick, “Yes, ma’am,” and pushed the door open to the mediation room. The commotion started instantly. Sienna’s voice was laced with indignation. “Why are you arresting us? I already told you it was just a joke!” Derek’s voice followed, not with anger, but with a tone of indulgent calm. “Just cooperate, Sienna. It’ll be over soon.” Their footsteps grew closer, and the two of them emerged. Sienna was still sulking, stomping ahead of him in a huff. “This is all your fault! I asked you to go shopping with me yesterday, but you had to have some stupid meeting. That’s why I got mad and called the cops!” Derek practically jogged to keep up, a fawning look on his face. “I’ll have my assistant buy out the entire new season from every designer. You can try everything on at home.” At this, Sienna turned her head, and I got a clear look at her. A delicate, palm-sized face, bright eyes, pearly teeth—she was, admittedly, a stunning girl. What caught the eye, though, was her mane of pink hair and a miniskirt so short it threatened to reveal the top of her thighs with every step. She was barely in her twenties, radiating a brazen, untamed vitality. She was from a different universe than someone like me, who lived in a uniform. A heavy weight settled in my chest, a dull, suffocating ache. Derek Croft. The man at the apex of Weston Bay’s social pyramid, the man to whom countless people bowed and scraped. And here he was, practically groveling to appease this girl. “Don’t be mad,” he cooed. “I’ll cancel my next meeting. We’ll go shopping, okay?” Sienna just huffed, but she slowed her pace. I watched them disappear into the interrogation room. The door clicked shut, sealing away their cloying intimacy. Miller approached me. “Captain, who should take the statement?” “You do it. Personally,” I said, my voice hoarse. “Get the reason for the call. I want every single detail.” Miller nodded and went inside. It wasn’t long before Sienna’s voice, thick with a need to show off, drifted through the door. “Officer, I told you, it was a joke. He’s always working, always busy with his company. Getting him to go to the mall with me is like moving a mountain.” “What good is a black card? So what if it has no limit? Can it help me try on dresses?” Miller must have asked about the solicitation, because the room went quiet for a few seconds. Then, Sienna’s voice returned, laced with a giggle. “Oh, that? I was just mad. A few days ago, he said he wanted to spice things up, so he tied my hands with his tie… I was just angry that he was only thinking of his own pleasure, so I said that to get back at him.” She paused, as if showing something off. “Look, you can still see the marks on my wrist. He looks so serious all the time, but really…” Her words grew more and more explicit. I couldn’t listen anymore. I turned and leaned against the wall, my mind a chaotic storm. Derek and I had been married for three years. His family was old money in Weston Bay; mine was deeply entrenched in the political circles of D.C. When we married, it was hailed as a merger of dynasties, a perfect match. And we played our parts convincingly, the model couple at every gala and charity event. He gave me tasteful, appropriate gifts; I handled his overbearing relatives. But only I knew the truth of our marriage: it was a cold, desolate wasteland. He was always reserved, detached, his face an unreadable mask. Even in bed, he moved with the detached efficiency of a man completing a task. Last year, I had fought tooth and nail for this transfer back to Weston Bay, leaving a core position at headquarters in D.C. for a captaincy in a local precinct. Anyone with eyes could see it was a demotion disguised as a promotion. But I’d been foolishly optimistic. I thought closing the distance might thaw the ice between us. What a joke. The first “gift” I received after sacrificing my career was a front-row seat to my husband’s performance of a lifetime—a raw, vibrant passion he had never once shown me. In the end, no charges were filed. The chief of police came down himself, wringing his hands. “Aurora, my dear… Mr. Croft is… well, he’s vital to the city’s economy. Can we just let this one go?” I said nothing, which was its own form of consent. The Croft family’s influence in Weston Bay was too deep. One false police report wasn’t nearly enough to keep him locked up. As I watched Derek carefully shield Sienna while helping her into his car, I pulled out my phone and sent a text to his mother. [I just saw Derek at the precinct. He was being questioned for soliciting a prostitute.] She replied instantly. [Aurora, you’re back? I’m sending the driver for you right now. Don’t you worry, sweetheart. I’ll make sure you get the justice you deserve.] Half an hour later, I walked into the Croft family mansion to the sound of Derek’s father screaming at him. They knew about Sienna, of course, but had chosen to turn a blind eye. But for the situation to escalate to the police, and for me to be involved—that changed everything. The Croft family owed my family for their help in securing their foothold in Weston Bay years ago. Not to mention, Derek’s mother had practically lived in D.C. for a year to make our marriage happen. The moment she saw me, her face broke into a wide smile. She rushed over, taking my hand. “Aurora, you poor thing. You’ve been wronged. I will teach this bastard a lesson he’ll never forget.” Derek’s head snapped up. He instantly understood that I was the one who had tattled, and his eyes shot daggers at me. Before he could speak, his father’s voice boomed. “Apologize to Aurora this instant! And you will swear to me that you will break things off with that Sienna girl for good!” Derek’s chin shot up, his gaze defiant. “No.” “Sienna is the love of my life,” he declared. “No one is going to tear us apart!” His father trembled with rage. “What did you just say?” “If it weren’t for Aurora’s family in D.C., would the Crofts be where they are today? If you dare disrespect her, you are no son of mine!” Derek gritted his teeth, refusing to back down, but he didn’t argue further. He didn’t apologize, either. He just stormed towards the door. His father turned to me. “Aurora, go with him. Talk some sense into him.” I nodded and followed him out. Suddenly, Derek spun around, his hand clamping around my arm like a vice. He dragged me to the car, shoving me inside. The door slammed shut with a deafening bang. Before I could even buckle my seatbelt, he floored the gas pedal, and the car shot forward like a bullet. His eyes were webbed with red veins. “Aurora Vance,” he snarled, his jaw clenched. “You’ve got some nerve. Did you transfer back to Weston Bay just to spy on me? Wasn’t this sham of a marriage enough of a leash for you?” I rubbed my reddening arm, biting my lip to keep from speaking. Seeing my silence, Derek shot a contemptuous look at me from the corner of his eye. “And don’t you dare blame me for falling for someone else. Look at you. You walk around dressed like a goddamn nun, with a face so long it could trip someone. And in bed? Please. You’re like a dead fish, just one position, lying flat on your back.” “Sienna is younger, she’s more fun, she knows things you don’t. With her, I finally know what love feels like. What it feels like to be truly alive!” He was punishing me for telling on him, his words sharper and crueler than ever before. Each one was a shard of ice, stabbing into my heart, letting the blood flow freely. Three years of marriage, three years I’d spent like an idiot, hoping to warm his frozen heart, only to be rewarded with this humiliation. The shrill ring of a phone cut through my thoughts. I glanced at the car’s display. The caller ID—”My Little Star”—burned my eyes. He answered, and a tearful voice came through the speaker. “Derek, I cut my finger! It hurts so much!” Derek’s entire demeanor shifted. The rage vanished, replaced by sheer panic. He softened his voice, cooing into the phone. “Don’t cry, don’t cry, baby. I’m on my way. Just wait for me, okay?” He hung up, yanked the steering wheel, and screeched to a halt on the side of the road. “Out,” he commanded coldly. “We’re at least six miles from the city. You’re just going to leave me…” Before I could finish, he leaned across, unbuckled my seatbelt, and pushed open my door. “I said, get out.” I was shoved out of the car, stumbling a few steps before I found my footing. A second later, the door slammed shut. The black Maybach peeled away, disappearing into the night. The wind was a blade against my skin. I stood on the side of a desolate suburban highway with only 5% battery left on my phone. I frantically dialed the precinct, but the screen went black before the call could connect. I walked for what felt like an eternity, my legs heavy as lead, dark spots dancing in my vision. Finally, I couldn’t go on. I collapsed on the side of the road. When I woke up, the sterile scent of disinfectant filled my nostrils. I was in a hospital bed, an IV drip taped to the back of my hand. A doctor walked in, his expression complicated. “You’re awake.” “You’ve miscarried,” he said gently. “The pregnancy was already unstable, and walking for so long…” Miscarried? I froze. My fingers moved unconsciously to my flat stomach. There had been a child in there… a child who had left before I even knew he existed. The doctor sighed. “Get some rest.” The door closed, and I fumbled for my phone, plugging it into the charger. The moment it turned on, a news alert popped onto the screen: [WESTON BAY BILLIONAIRE DEREK CROFT MOBILIZES CITY’S TOP SURGEONS FOR GIRLFRIEND’S MINOR FINGER CUT!] The accompanying photo showed Derek cradling Sienna, his face a mask of profound concern. Sienna held up her hand, and the photo was zoomed in on a scratch so faint it was barely visible. My already shattered heart was pierced through once more. While he was comforting his precious love, I was lying on the side of a road, losing our child. I ripped the IV from my hand and stumbled out of the room like a ghost. At the end of the hallway, I ran right into them—Derek and Sienna. Derek’s brow furrowed instantly, his disgust unconcealed. “Aurora Vance, you’re like a goddamn ghost. You just won’t go away. You followed us to the hospital to fake an illness? I thought you were supposed to be some high-society lady. Since when did you stoop to these pathetic, desperate tactics?” Staring at him, my voice trembled. “I had a miscarriage.” Sienna’s eyes widened, and she grabbed Derek’s arm. “Derek! You told me you hadn’t touched her in forever! Where did this baby come from?” “You lied to me! We’re breaking up!” Panic flashed across Derek’s face. He pulled her into his arms, kissing and cooing. “Don’t listen to her, baby, she’s lying! I see her once a month, at most, for a stupid dinner. I don’t even touch her hand!” “My little star, you know I’m completely spent by the time I leave you. Where would I get the energy for anyone else?” After placating Sienna, he turned to glare at me, his tone dripping with venom. “Aurora, who do you think you are? The Virgin Mary? You get pregnant just by looking at someone? Have you no shame?” A small crowd had begun to gather, their whispers reaching my ears. “Who is that woman? She looks so put-together, why is she harassing Mr. Croft and Miss Sienna?” “Did you hear? Something about a miscarriage? Sounds like she was trying to trap him with a baby and is making a scene.” “Everyone knows Mr. Croft worships the ground Sienna walks on. This woman is delusional.” Their stares were like needles, piercing my skin, leaving me with nowhere to hide. A chill washed over me, but my mind felt like it had been struck by lightning. Last month, Derek had come to D.C. to see me. We had a few drinks with dinner. That night, instead of sleeping in the guest room as he always did, he had held me tight, murmuring “baby,” and “my little star” over and over, his voice hot against my ear. I thought the alcohol had lowered his defenses. I thought it was the beginning of our relationship finally thawing. It was after that night that I had made up my mind to transfer to Weston Bay, thinking we might actually have a chance at a real family. But now, seeing “My Little Star” on his phone, hearing the pet names he had whispered to Sienna countless times… it all clicked into place with horrifying clarity. He hadn’t been calling for me that night. He thought I was Sienna. That one moment of warmth that had made my cheeks flush and my heart fill with hope was nothing more than a case of mistaken identity. A farce. A wave of nausea churned in my stomach, and I had to grab the wall to keep from collapsing. Derek was still explaining things to Sienna, his voice so gentle it could wring water, a stark contrast to the venom he had just spat at me. Sienna finally stopped crying and walked over to me, a smug, insincere smile on her face. “Sweetheart, you really shouldn’t get so worked up.” “You can’t force feelings. Derek’s heart isn’t with you. You’re just torturing yourself by holding on.” I stared at her, my eyes cold as ice. She ignored my glare and continued, “To be blunt, in love, the one who isn’t loved is the real other woman. It would be better for everyone if you just walked away.” As she finished, she suddenly lifted the hem of her t-shirt, revealing a pink tattoo on her hip: “Derek’s Little Star.” Then she grabbed Derek, pulling up his shirt to show me the same spot on his body. There, on Derek’s hip, was a line of text: “Sienna’s Dog.” The words were so absurd, so glaringly painful. The Derek Croft who dominated the business world, whose gaze was cold enough to freeze hell over, had willingly branded himself for the woman he loved. My heart felt like it was being beaten with a blunt instrument, over and over, until it was just a numb, throbbing pulp. He was capable of this kind of wild, all-consuming love. Just not for me. Sienna smirked, dropping their shirts. Her fingers traced the tattoo on his hip, her voice a purr. “Derek says I’m the only one who can make him feel this way. Can you, sweetheart?” The churning in my stomach was unbearable. I turned to leave. But Sienna reached out, grabbing my arm. The moment her fingers touched my sleeve, she let out a piercing scream and threw herself backward, crashing into a medical cart. CRASH! Glass shattered everywhere. Sienna collapsed onto the floor, clutching her arm as blood streamed through her fingers. “Derek!” she cried, sobbing hysterically. Derek’s eyes turned to ice. He lunged at me, grabbing my collar. “Aurora, are you trying to die?” “Apologize to Sienna. Now!” I tore his hand away. “I didn’t push her,” I retorted. “Why should I apologize?” His face was a mask of fury. He roared at his bodyguards. “Slap her! Don’t stop until she apologizes!” Two men immediately stepped forward. One pinned my arms while the other swung. CRACK! The sharp sound echoed down the hall. My cheek exploded in fire. “Are you going to apologize?” Derek stared at me. I gritted my teeth, blood trickling from the corner of my mouth. “No.” SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! The blows rained down on my face, each one harder than the last. My head was knocked to the side, then wrenched back, forcing me to watch the hand rise and fall, again and again. The crowd fell silent, too scared to even breathe. Lying in Derek’s arms, Sienna peeked up at me, a triumphant smirk hidden on her lips. After more than a dozen slaps, my face was swollen beyond recognition, and my vision began to blur. Derek raised a hand to stop them. His voice was glacial. “Last chance. Are you going to apologize?” I shook my throbbing head, blood dripping from my chin. “It wasn’t… me.” His eyes filled with a terrifying rage. He bent down, picked up a shard of glass, and grabbed my arm. In the exact same spot where Sienna was “injured,” he dragged the sharp edge across my skin. “Then let this pain be a reminder!” he seethed. “See if you ever dare to touch her again!” Blood welled up instantly, streaming down my arm. Without another glance at me, Derek scooped Sienna into his arms and walked away. The hallway was empty. I leaned against the wall, the sting on my face and the gash on my arm a roaring fire of pain. But it was nothing compared to the dead, cold silence in my heart. He would never believe me. My denials were worth less than a single frown from Sienna. Fine. Since he’s made his choice, he can’t blame me for being ruthless. My fingers tightened around the crumpled ultrasound report in my pocket. After a moment of silence, I pulled out my phone and dialed two numbers I knew by heart.

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Three years with leukemia. Three years of Lucas selling his plasma to save me. Today, locked in the bathroom, I pressed a blade to my wrist—just as voices outside my hospital room spilled the truth. “Lucas forced Stella to be a guinea pig, faking leukemia for three years—worse than real chemo.” “He even wore a bald cap daily to keep up the act.” Lucas chuckled. “She’s a janitor. Honored to help Evie’s research. I’ll marry her later—compensation.” To ease his “burden,” I’d scrubbed hospital toilets. The razor clattered as blood pooled. The door flew open—Lucas’s eyes burning crimson. As I faded, my abandoned fiancé’s voice echoed: “I’ll wait. However long it takes.” 1 When consciousness returned, it felt like my eyelids were glued shut. But I could still hear them. The same voices, filling my room. “Lucas, you looked pretty panicked back there. Don’t tell me you’re actually falling for her?” “Get real. He’s the CEO of Lockhart Pharmaceutical Group. You think he’d fall for a janitor?” The room fell silent for a beat, punctuated only by the steady, rhythmic beep of the heart monitor. I heard Lucas’s fingers tapping on the bedside table, a restless, drumming beat. Then, a short, sharp laugh. “Of course not.” His voice was cold steel. “If she dies now, Evie’s three years of research go down the drain. That’s all.” Each tap of his finger was a hammer blow to my soul. And to think, just for a second, I’d held a pathetic flicker of hope that he genuinely feared losing me. A phone rang. Not the cheap burner he always used around me, but a crisp, modern tone. “The monthly transfer came in? Good. Same as always—cash it out and toss it to some beggar on the street.” The voice on the other end was the hospital director’s. I knew it instantly. This hospital had thirty floors. Hundreds of toilets. Every single night, after my so-called “chemotherapy,” I would drag my broken body through the halls and clean them all. For two thousand dollars a month. It wasn’t much, but I had every penny deposited directly into the hospital’s account, desperate to lift some of the weight off Lucas’s shoulders. Over seventy thousand dollars in three years. All of it, thrown away to beggars. A chair scraped against the floor, the sound grinding against my exposed nerves, my shredded dignity. “Jesus, man. How can you even stand to look at her face every day? She’s a mess.” “Before the experiment started, she was actually pretty hot. I’d have killed for that body, that face.” A soft thud, like someone kicking the bed frame. “Disgusting,” Lucas spat. “Try wearing a bald cap for three years and pretending to sell your plasma to pay her medical bills. That’s disgusting,” he countered, his voice dripping with resentment. “But for Evie… it’s all worth it.” The last words were a whisper, thick with a tenderness that was never meant for me. Disgusting. The man I thought would die for me, the man I’d been with for two years before this nightmare began, was the very architect of my suffering. What a complete and utter fool I’d been. I ran away from my life, from the corporate marriage my father had arranged, only to have him freeze all my accounts. I was starving on the streets of this city when Lucas, a handsome delivery guy, offered me a bowl of simple rice porridge. For that one act of kindness, I’d torched the bridge back to my family. For five years, he was my everything. But it was time to wake up. With a monumental effort, I forced my eyelids open. “Stella! You’re awake!” Lucas’s voice was choked with emotion. He threw his arms around me, his eyes red-rimmed, clutching me like a priceless treasure. It was a performance so perfect, you could drown in it. “Don’t you ever do something so stupid again! I told you, I will never give up on you. You’re going to get better.” Then, he pulled back slightly, a flicker of panic in his eyes. “Stella… did you… did you hear anything?” I stared at his bald head. It was the same head I’d looked at for three years, but now it seemed utterly alien. I stretched my lips into a weak smile, mimicking the adoration I always showed him. “Should I have heard something?” He let out a breath he seemed to have been holding. The puff of air ghosted over my ear as he reached up and self-consciously touched his head. His tell. The nervous gesture he always made when he was lying. And for the first time, I saw it. The wig cap. The seam near his ear. It was so fake, so obvious. How had I never noticed in three years? How many times had I held him, my heart aching for him, begging him not to destroy himself for my sake? My gaze drifted to the other men in the room. They were dressed in expensive, tailored suits. Lucas, in contrast, wore a faded, washed-out shirt. The perfect disguise. Who would ever guess he was their boss? “Who are they?” I asked, my voice raspy. “Oh, them? They’re the buyers. For my plasma,” he said smoothly. “I just made a sale. Your next round of chemo is paid for.” One of the men in suits cleared his throat. “That’s right. Fifty thousand dollars, already transferred. Well, we’ll be on our way.” As they left, I spoke into the sudden quiet of the room. “I want to go home.” I knew the entire hospital was practically his property. To escape him, I first had to escape this building. He stared at me, stunned. I repeated myself, my voice firmer. “I want to be discharged, Lucas.” “I’ve been here for three years. I feel like my whole body is pickled in antiseptic!” I grabbed his arm, summoning the old, playful whine he could never resist. For three years, I had dreamed of leaving, but I’d never dared to ask. I wanted him to see me as a fighter, positive and determined. Now, uttering the words, I watched his face. And he agreed. Of course he did. He was, after all, still playing the part of the perfect, doting boyfriend who would do anything for me. The taxi sped through the city, his hand holding mine the entire time. It stopped in front of a run-down, decrepit apartment building. He carried my single bag up the stairs. The moment he opened the door, the air hit me first—stale and thick with the scent of damp and decay. “Stella, after you were hospitalized, I… I had to sell the condo we bought together. I rented this place,” he said, his voice heavy with false regret. “But don’t worry. I’ll work my ass off to buy it back for us.” The condo. We’d saved for two years, filling it with pictures of us, cozy furniture, matching towels and toothbrushes. Lucas, wearing an apron, cooking for me. How could the man in my memories be the same one whose lies I’d overheard in the hospital? Something soft and squishy under my shoe brought me back to the present. I glanced down. A dead mouse. I forced a bright smile. “It’s okay, Lucas! It’s… cozy. It even comes with a little pet!” He dragged my bag inside and began putting my clothes in a rickety dresser, just as he used to do in our beautiful home. “Stella, go get washed up. The doctor said you need to rest.” I went into the bathroom. The water meter on the wall read a definitive, stark: 0. He hadn’t just rented this place. He’d found an abandoned, condemned apartment to complete his charade. Rain began to streak down the grimy windowpane. I turned and caught my reflection in the mirror. The woman staring back sent a jolt of terror through me. Her bald head gleamed with a pale, bluish tint under the single bare bulb. Her cheekbones jutted out like razors. Her eyes were sunk deep into bruised, hollow sockets. That woman… it was me. For three years, Lucas had never let me look in a mirror. Now I knew why. I was a monster. Suddenly, the bathroom door flew open. With a roar of frustration, Lucas slammed his fist into the mirror. Glass exploded, showering the floor. A thousand tiny shards reflected a thousand versions of my grotesque face. Blood dripped from his knuckles onto the cracked linoleum. “Stella, don’t look,” he whispered, pulling me into his arms. “I’m sorry. Don’t look.” But his embrace was suffocating. He was so deep in his own lie, he was starting to drown in it himself. “I’m not that fragile,” I mumbled, pulling away to see his hand. “Let me take care of that.” As I wrapped his knuckles in gauze, the memories became sharper, more painful. Whenever he’d gotten hurt before, he would whine and beg me to kiss it better. It would always end with him pressing me into the mattress, his voice hoarse as he whispered a name over and over. “Evie… Evie…” Not Stella. Evie. A tear escaped and landed on the back of his hand. He flinched as if burned. Just then, his phone rang. He gently stroked my hair and stepped out onto the tiny, rusted balcony to take the call. The flimsy door did nothing to block the sound. “Are you coming home tonight, Lucas?” a girl’s voice, sweet and playful, chirped through the phone. “It’s my birthday tomorrow, you have to be there!” “I’m on my way back right now, sweetheart,” his voice was a river of gentle affection. “I’ll have a present for you tomorrow.” A clap of thunder rattled the windows. “I just got a call for a job,” he said, rushing back inside. “I have to go now. Lock the door behind me. If the thunder gets too loud, just cover your ears.” He was gone in a flash, but not before remembering my fear of thunderstorms. He’d left the balcony door open. A cold gust of wind swept in, drying the tears on my face. Using the last of the money on my phone, I bought a plane ticket home. Just as I confirmed the purchase, a text message popped up from an unknown number. “The Grand Imperial Hotel, tomorrow. You’ll get to see a very different side of your dear Lucas.” I knew who it was. Evie. The mastermind of my three-year-long torture. I’d never even met her. Why was she revealing the truth to me now? It was a trap. I knew it was a trap. But the next day, in an act of pure self-destruction, I went downstairs and bought a wig. … The taxi pulled up to the Grand Imperial Hotel, and the first thing I saw was the massive screen above the entrance. It displayed a looping photo of Lucas, dressed in a breathtakingly expensive custom suit, his hair styled to perfection. On his arm was a beautiful, smiling girl. Evie. So, after five years of being the center of my world, this is how I finally meet her. The invisible girl who, without ever showing her face, had turned my life into a living hell for her own ambition. I slipped into the grand ballroom like a rat slinking through the shadows, watching her moment of triumph. She stood on a stage, holding a microphone. “Thank you all for coming to my birthday celebration! I’m also thrilled to announce that my groundbreaking research on a new leukemia treatment is nearing completion!” The room erupted in applause. They were all praising her genius, her dedication. Her eyes found mine across the crowded room. A glint of challenge, of pure malice, sparked in them. Then, her voice, amplified and laced with panic, filled the hall. “Oh my god! The St. Christopher medal my brother gave me… it’s gone! Someone must have stolen it!” A wave of murmurs and commotion swept through the guests. Lucas immediately ordered the hotel security to find the thief. But they didn’t search the crowd. They walked in a straight line, directly towards me. My blood ran cold. I turned and ran. A hand tangled in my hair, yanking hard. The wig came off, fluttering to the floor. “It’s her! She’s the thief! She’s been lurking in the corner the whole time!” “Search her!” I spun around to face them, and my eyes locked with Lucas’s. He froze, the color draining from his face. He reflexively ran a hand through his own, real hair. “Stella? What are you doing here?” He took a step forward. “Whatever you saw tonight… I can explain when we get home. Please, just be good and give Evie back her medal.” Looking at him now, so polished and powerful, a bitter laugh escaped my lips. Tears streamed down my face. “Explain? Explain what? That I don’t have leukemia? That I was just a lab rat for Evie’s little project?” “You’ve been playing me for three years! Was it fun? Did you get a good laugh? I wanted to kill myself, Lucas! I almost did, over and over again!” “You know?” His voice trembled. He reached for me, his hand outstretched. He tried to say more, but Evie’s supporters were already on me. He did nothing to stop them as they grabbed at my clothes. My coat was ripped from my shoulders, exposing the thin hospital gown underneath. And beneath that, my skin. A horrifying canvas of countless needle pricks and vast, mottled bruises covering my torso and arms. Gasps filled the room. “Oh, god! How disgusting!” “What is wrong with her? She looks like she’s carrying a plague! Get her out of here!” Amidst the chorus of disgust, a sharp crack echoed on the marble floor. The St. Christopher medal had fallen from my pocket and shattered. The medal he claimed he’d gotten for me after a pilgrimage to a famous cathedral, where he’d knelt in prayer for days. I remembered him pressing it into my hand, a hot tear falling with it. “Stella,” he’d whispered, “you’re going to be okay.” “That’s it!” Evie shrieked, pointing at the broken pieces. “That’s the one my brother got for me after my fever last year! He went all the way to…” She trailed off, squinting. “Wait… no. That one just… looks like it. I remember now. This is the one he bought online for $4.99 with free shipping.” “A cheap knockoff.”

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