Category: English

When my wife was in labor with our second child, the doctor called for the husband to come in for the delivery. I stood up, ready to go to her side, but the nurse called a different name. “Johnny? The husband? She’s ready for you.” I froze. Later, my wife, Chloe, explained she was just worried I’d be scared by the process, so she didn’t call for me. Thinking of the child she had just endured so much to give me, I let it go. But yesterday was our daughter Melissa’s one-month milestone. I suggested we take her for a professional photoshoot, but Chloe refused, saying she didn’t want to bother me while I was so busy with work. Then, at the office, I opened my phone and saw a new post from Johnny. It was a picture of him, Chloe, our son Leo, and our new daughter, Melissa. In the picture, they looked like a perfect family of four. And I… I felt like a stranger, a voyeur spying on a life that should have been mine. That night, I came home and asked for a divorce. She didn’t even take me seriously. “It’s just a few pictures, Ethan. Are you really going to throw our marriage away over this?” “Yes. I am.” 1. Chloe didn’t even look up from her phone. “So, Johnny was in the one-month photos. Is it really that big of a deal? He posted it to his story by accident, and I already made him take it down.” She scrolled, a small smile playing on her lips. “You’re a grown man, Ethan. Are you always going to pick fights over every little thing? If you’re not tired of it, I certainly am.” An accident. If Johnny hadn’t “accidentally” posted that picture, I wonder how much longer I would have been kept in the dark. So, her refusing my offer wasn’t about sparing me from work; it was because she wanted to take the photos with him. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. Chloe’s eyes remained glued to the screen, her smile widening at something she saw. On a sudden, reckless impulse, I snatched the phone from her hand. In all our years of marriage, built on what I thought was absolute trust, I had never once looked through her phone. The shock of it left her momentarily stunned. The screen was still on her social media page. I tapped her profile picture, and the first post I saw made my blood run cold. It was a gallery of Melissa’s one-month photos. Nine pictures. Johnny was in eight of them. The comments below were a sea of cheerful congratulations that burned my eyes. “Such a beautiful couple! And the baby is adorable.” “Wow, my daughter finally came to her senses and started looking at other people!” Chloe hadn’t corrected any of them. Her silence was an endorsement. Before I could scroll further, she lunged for the phone. “What the hell is wrong with you? Give it back!” I held it higher, a cold sneer on my face. “You said Johnny posted it by accident. What about you? This carefully curated nine-picture layout, with me specifically hidden from the post… was that an accident, too?” A flash of guilt crossed her face. She opened her mouth to argue, but a knock at the door cut her off. It was Johnny, standing there with a respectful smile. “Chloe, it’s about time we head out. Everything’s ready at the restaurant for the party. Your mom sent me to hurry you guys along.” Chloe instantly turned off the phone’s screen. “We’ll talk about this when we get back. You wouldn’t want to ruin our daughter’s party over something so small, would you?” she said, her voice low and threatening. “Go get Leo. He should be upstairs watching TV.” She then turned to Johnny, her expression softening instantly. “Thanks for coming to get us.” With her silent permission, Johnny expertly scooped our daughter into his arms. I just stood there, my legs feeling like they were cast in lead. Seeing my inaction, a flicker of annoyance crossed Chloe’s face. “Well? Are you going to get Leo, or do you want to make everyone wait?” I gritted my teeth, swallowing the words that were trying to claw their way up my throat. Hearing the commotion, our son, Leo, appeared at the railing on the second floor. He peeked his head over, saw Johnny, and his face lit up. He came bounding down the stairs. “Uncle Johnny!” I reached out to ruffle his hair, but he dodged my hand and darted behind Johnny, shooting me a look of pure disgust. My hand fell limply to my side. I had steeled myself for this, but the rejection still felt like a knife twisting in my gut. I tried to take Melissa from Johnny’s arms, but Leo shoved me away. “You’re a bad guy! Don’t touch my sister! You’re not allowed!” Chloe looked embarrassed. “Just let Johnny hold her, Ethan. He’s more careful, and she’s always calmer with him.” The casual words were the final straw. “Let’s get a divorce,” I said, my voice flat. “Sign the papers before you go.” Surprise flashed in her eyes, quickly replaced by irritation. “Are you serious? Over a few photos? I was trying to be considerate of your work schedule, that’s why I didn’t ask you to come.” “Johnny was there, so he was in the pictures. If you want some, we can take more later. Why do you have to make such a big deal out of everything?” “And the delivery? I didn’t let you in because I was worried you’d be traumatized by it! Johnny and I grew up together, and he’s a doctor. He’s seen it all before, so I asked him to be there for me.” Her voice rose with every word. “Besides, I already explained all of this to you! What more do you want? Is it fun for you to keep bringing up the past? Can you stop being so unreasonable?!” Her shouting startled Melissa, who began to wail. Johnny rocked her gently, looking at me with a pained expression. “Ethan, I apologize for the photos. I really shouldn’t have been in them,” he said, his tone placating. “It’s all my fault, it has nothing to do with Chloe. If you’re angry, take it out on me. Please don’t let this come between you two.” Chloe stepped in front of him protectively. “This isn’t your fault. You don’t need to apologize.” Leo chimed in, “That’s right! Uncle Johnny, you don’t have to say sorry to the bad guy! When Mommy divorces him, we can all come live at your house!” Chloe, who had been so self-righteous a moment ago, quickly clamped a hand over Leo’s mouth. “Leo, don’t say things like that.” Johnny freed a hand and pulled Leo to his side. “Hey, buddy, let’s not get involved in grown-up stuff, okay? If you’re good, I’ll buy you that new Transformers toy you wanted.” Leo started jumping with excitement. “You’re the best, Uncle Johnny! Not like the bad guy. All he does is bully Mommy and fight with her.” Chloe shot me a look of strained apology, then took Leo’s hand and pushed past me. “If you’re not coming, then you can just stay home and rest. We’re leaving.” I grabbed her arm. “Sign the papers first.” She rolled her eyes, her patience clearly gone. Just as she was about to explode, her phone rang. After a moment, her voice was sharp and annoyed. “You should talk to Ethan. He’s trying to divorce me because Johnny was in Melissa’s photos, and now he won’t let me leave for the party.” She listened for another moment, then put the phone on speaker and shoved it in my face. Her mother’s shrill voice filled the room. “Ethan, what is wrong with you now? Are you not happy until you’ve completely humiliated my daughter? Look at the time! Stop this nonsense!” “Chloe and Johnny are childhood friends! If anything was going to happen between them, it would have happened long before you came along! Frankly, I wish it had.” “Johnny is successful, he’s caring—he’s ten times the man you are! Instead of throwing tantrums, maybe you should try learning something from him!” Her mother’s tirade left me speechless. It was pointless. Their complete lack of concern, their casual dismissal of my feelings, it made me feel like I was the one going crazy. And maybe I was. They had driven me to it. I met Chloe in college. We were young, clumsy, and fell into a relationship that somehow lasted for five years. When it was time to talk about marriage, her parents were dead set against it. They thought I was poor, that I wasn’t good enough. They threatened to break her legs if she married me. After we got married, I threw myself into my work, determined to prove them wrong. I worked until I was sick, literally. I once landed in the ER after drinking so much at a client dinner that I ended up with a bleeding stomach. When her parents came to visit, their words were laced with venom. “I told you she shouldn’t have married you. You’re useless. You land yourself in the hospital trying to close one deal.” “Why didn’t he just drink himself to death? Then you could find someone better while you’re still young.” I buried their words and worked even harder, building my company from the ground up. But it was never enough. Nothing I did would ever be enough for them. I thought Chloe, at least, would understand. But she complained that I was neglecting her. Our son grew distant. I tried to pull back from work, to make it up to them, but she pushed me away. When Melissa was born, she had Johnny in the delivery room. She took him to Melissa’s one-month photoshoot. And her parents, who despised me, encouraged it all. I’ve had enough. I finally see things clearly. All I want now is for it to be over. “Just sign the divorce papers, and you can go to your party,” I said, my voice devoid of emotion. “After this, we can go our separate ways. I’ll give you half of everything.” “As for custody,” I added, “Melissa stays with me. I will give her the best life, the best education.” Chloe’s patience snapped. “The best education? Ethan, are you trying to raise her to be a paranoid maniac like you? Did you beg and plead to marry me just so you could torture me to death?” She grabbed the divorce agreement from the table and, in a fit of rage, ripped it to shreds, throwing the pieces at my chest. “Is that what you want? For me to admit I was wrong? Fine! I was wrong! I’m sorry! Okay? Can we go now?” Her words were an accusation, not an apology. She was trying to force me to back down. Leo tried to shield her with his small body. “You’re a bad guy! Don’t you bully my mom! And you’re not taking my sister!” After a moment, Chloe took a deep breath and patted his shoulder. “Leo, apologize to your father.” “Daddy is angry because Uncle Johnny was in the photos with us,” she explained, her voice deceptively calm. “If you don’t apologize, he’s going to leave our family.” Leo pouted. “Let him leave! I hope I never see the bad guy again!” he shouted. “I’m not saying sorry! Get out of our house! I want Uncle Johnny to be my dad!” Looking at his defiant little face, I could barely hold back my tears. He used to adore me. He used to wait by the door for me to come home from work so we could play. Chloe sighed heavily. “Leo, don’t talk to your father like that. Apologize to him, or he might really leave.” Leo’s little fists were clenched at his sides. “I won’t! I won’t say sorry to the bad guy!” With that, his face crumpled, and he burst into tears. Johnny knelt down and gently wiped his cheeks. “Hey, no crying. Big boys don’t cry, remember?” he murmured. “Just say you’re sorry to your dad. If you do, I promise I’ll take you to my secret hideout, okay?” Leo rubbed his eyes. “Really?” After Johnny nodded, Leo turned to me and mumbled a reluctant, “Sorry.” Chloe looked at her son, her eyes filled with pity. “There. Are you happy now? He apologized. Can you stop this nonsense?” Just then, Leo started pounding on my leg with his small fists. “You big bad guy! Let go of my mom!” “Mommy, just divorce the bad guy! I want Uncle Johnny to be my daddy! Grandma said the bad guy is a jinx and that Mommy will only be happy with Uncle Johnny!” Something inside me snapped. My grip on Chloe’s arm tightened without me realizing it. “Who taught him to say these things?” I roared, my voice shaking with a rage I hadn’t known I possessed. “He’s a child! Why would he say that? Tell me! All these years, I have worked myself to the bone, day and night, to give you a better life! And you… what have you done to me? Do you even have a heart, Chloe? Why would you turn our son against me like this?” Chloe shrank back, trying desperately to pull her arm free. “Bad guys die!” Leo screamed. He grabbed the heavy ceramic vase from the entryway table and, without a moment’s hesitation, swung it with all his might into the small of my back. A sharp, shattering pain exploded across my spine. The shards of the vase sliced through my shirt, followed by the warm trickle of blood. I sucked in a sharp breath, frozen in place. In that instant, all the strength, all the fight, drained out of me. I clutched at the bleeding wound and slowly turned my head. Leo’s expression, though frightened, held no regret. At that moment, the dam broke. Tears I had held back for years streamed down my face. Chloe was clearly shocked. “Leo! What have you done? How could you hit your father with a vase?” Summoning his courage, our son stammered, “Mommy, I just… I just didn’t want the bad guy to hurt you.” Chloe stared at him for a few seconds, then rushed forward and wrapped him in a tight embrace. I wiped the tears from my eyes. From the drawer under the table, I pulled out another copy of the divorce agreement. “Sign it.”

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Three days before my wedding, I discovered Eric had changed our venue from my grandmother’s estate to a Spanish castle—Chloe’s favorite place. I rushed to confront him but overheard him complaining: “Thank God Chloe has taste. Otherwise, I’d be a laughingstock.” His friend asked, “But you promised her grandmother’s place. Won’t she call it off?” Eric scoffed: “Her family’s bankrupt. Marrying me is her only way out. She can’t afford to gamble.” He smirked, “The planner already called her. She’s probably rebooking her flight right now.” Anger and betrayal twisted inside me. I bit my lip and walked away. Three days later, the castle wedding proceeded. I didn’t rebook my flight. I didn’t show up. Instead, in my grandmother’s garden, I exchanged rings with another man. To this day, Eric doesn’t understand: I didn’t marry him for a way out—but for a love that lasted ten years. When the dream ended, I simply made another choice. 1 Not long after I left the Levine Corporation building, Eric sent me the address of the Spanish castle along with a photo. It was a stunning shot of the castle’s facade—ivory limestone walls, a gilded dome, the very picture of opulence. But front and center in the photo, a striking figure in a flowing red dress with a cascade of auburn curls, was Chloe. My finger hovered over her beaming face for a moment, and a wave of absurdity washed over me. I was the bride. This was supposed to be our wedding venue. Yet the star of the photo he sent was his childhood friend, the one he always insisted was “just a friend, don’t overthink it.” After that, silence. I knew Eric. He figured the wedding planner had already broken the news, so he was just nudging things along, sending the address so I wouldn’t book a flight to the wrong country. A stone had settled in my stomach. I couldn’t wrap my head around it. He had promised me we’d have the ceremony at my grandmother’s estate. Why would he change everything, without a second thought, just because Chloe liked a castle? It was dark by the time I got home. As I approached the door, I heard Eric snapping at the housekeeper. “Ava isn’t a toddler. Does she really expect me to worry if she’s a little late?” “But sir,” the housekeeper said nervously, “Ms. Quinn left right after the call from the wedding planner this morning. I was worried she might…” Eric laughed, a harsh, cutting sound. “She left to sort out her visa and change her flights. Getting the entire Quinn clan rerouted isn’t a simple task.” He sounded so sure of himself. “Don’t worry. Ava has been dreaming of marrying me for years. She’d be lost without me. I could move the venue to Antarctica and she’d crawl her way there, let alone to a castle hand-picked by Chloe.” The housekeeper fell silent, but Eric kept muttering to himself. “Chloe hasn’t texted back in five minutes… I should go check on her.” He hurried out of the house just as I was slipping away. It was the Levine family villa, after all. Not my home. He’d asked me to move in to make wedding preparations easier. At first, it was perfect. We were honey-sweet, just like any other engaged couple. Then Chloe came home, nursing a broken heart, and Eric announced he had to go comfort her. That “comforting” had now stretched into four months. Anytime Chloe felt down, he would drop everything—drop me—and run to her side. I chose the wedding dress alone. I designed the layout for the ceremony in my grandmother’s garden alone. He had no part in it. Whenever I dared to complain, he’d look up from his phone, his face a mask of irritation from being interrupted while texting her. “You only want to marry me to save your family’s business, right?” he’d say. “I’ve already agreed to that. What more do you want?” Then his phone would ring—Chloe, of course—and he’d walk out, a smile already on his face, leaving my words to vanish into the air. “You were the one who proposed to me,” I’d whisper to the empty room. “I said yes because I loved you…” In that moment, I went from a woman giddy with the joy of her upcoming wedding to a lonely spectator in my own life. And now, even the choice of where I would get married had nothing to do with me. I spent that night at a friend’s place. Eric never once tried to contact me. The next day, after finishing the handover at my job, I walked into the villa to the sound of Chloe’s cheerful laughter. “During the vows, you have to have flower petals floating down from both sides,” she was saying, her eyes sparkling. “It’s so much more romantic that way.” Eric sat beside her, his gaze soft and full of adoration, following her every move. “Whatever you want.” It was a look of devotion he had never given me. When she saw me, Chloe waved me over. “Ava, you’re here! I have the most amazing idea for the wedding!” From the corner of my eye, I saw Eric frown at me. “Where have you been? Chloe’s been working on this wedding for four months, and you’ve barely lifted a finger.” He didn’t stop there. “It’s for the best, I guess. Chloe’s taste is far better than yours. That rustic theme you came up with was so embarrassing. I almost became a joke in my circle.” That feeling of being an outsider washed over me again, cold and sharp. “I’m tired,” I said, my voice flat. “I’m going to rest.” Ignoring the deep furrow in Eric’s brow, I walked straight to the guest room. As I closed the door, a message popped up on my phone, one I had ignored many times before. “Just say the word, and I’ll crash that wedding, even if it costs me everything.” From outside the door, I could hear Chloe describing her dream of a flower-filled castle wedding, punctuated by Eric’s endless, patient refrains of “Whatever you want.” I gave a bitter smile and typed a reply. “You don’t have to crash it. You’ll be the groom.” Eric, if you were destined for a castle, then I would go south, back home. I would set you free. And in doing so, I would finally set myself free. 2 I tossed and turned all night. Every time I closed my eyes, I was flooded with memories of the last ten years with Eric, of a love I thought was boundless. He used to be my staunchest defender. No matter who said I wasn’t good enough for him, he would stand by my side, unyielding. My grandmother, in her final days, had taken his hand and told him she was entrusting me to him. His gaze had been a fire, and he’d nodded solemnly. “Grandma, don’t worry. I love Ava more than I love myself. I will never let her suffer.” “I promise you,” he’d sworn, “we’ll get married right here in your garden, so you can see her walk down the aisle with your own eyes.” Those vows felt like granite then, unbreakable and eternal. But I had forgotten that even stone can be worn away by water, that time erodes even the most sacred of promises. The day before the wedding, I found a long purple dress laid out in the living room. It had a sweeping train and a giant, blood-red flower blooming on the chest. Chloe rushed over, beaming. “Ava, look! I designed this wedding dress for you myself.” “Eric said you liked a rustic, countryside style, so I did a lot of research on village weddings to get it just right!” Even though I had already made my decision, the sight of this so-called “wedding dress” made me cringe. “In my hometown, the bride wears a wedding dress,” I said coolly. “Not a bridesmaid’s gown.” Chloe’s smile faltered, and she took a step back. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Ava. I didn’t mean to overstep.” “I just thought… I thought you would like it… I’ll get rid of it right now!” She grabbed a pair of scissors and moved toward the dress, but Eric, emerging from his study, snatched them from her hand. “How many times have I told you not to be careless with scissors? What if you hurt yourself?” Tears welled in Chloe’s eyes, her voice trembling. “Eric, did I do something wrong? Ava is so angry with me…” Before I could explain, Eric turned on me, his face dark. “Chloe spent four months designing this for you. She pulled all-nighters talking to the seamstress. Is this how you repay her?” “If it weren’t for her, you wouldn’t even have a dress to wear.” “Apologize!” he commanded. I met his furious gaze, and the situation struck me as utterly ridiculous. When I had tried to discuss the dress with him weeks ago, he’d told me not to bother him while he was taking Chloe to Bali to cheer her up. Yes, Chloe was so very important. When Chloe was sad about her breakup, he stayed up all night talking to her. On my birthday, he booked out a theater for Chloe so she could watch a romance movie. When I was burning up with a fever from overwork, he told me to “drink more water” before rushing Chloe to a private clinic for a tiny scratch on her arm. This was my wedding. I had done everything I was supposed to do. But because Chloe had inserted herself, the narrative had become “she did everything for me.” Eric’s relatives all saw me as lazy and ungrateful. They all despised me. The truth was, my real wedding dress and his suit were hanging in the closet of my guest room right now. He hadn’t even bothered to look at them, yet here he was, demanding I apologize to her. The disappointment settled deeper, and my expression hardened. Eric sneered. “You’re not going to apologize? Fine. Then the wedding is off. We’ll get married when you decide to say you’re sorry to Chloe!” Suddenly, my clenched fists relaxed. I looked at him, my voice clear and steady. “Fine.” With that, I went to my room to pack. Noah had told me the bougainvillea at my grandmother’s house was in full bloom. I wanted to see it again. Grandma and I had planted it together before my parents moved me to the city. In the living room, Eric was comforting Chloe, but a flicker of irritation crossed his face. He glanced at the guest room door and, turning away from her, discreetly texted his assistant. The reply came quickly: “Mr. Levine, Ms. Quinn does have a record of a flight change with LevineAir, but I don’t have the clearance to see the final flight information. You’ll have to check it yourself.” The tension in his face eased. He replied with a simple, “No need.” As I finished packing, a text from Eric came through. “If you’re going to be my wife, you need to work on that temper. Chloe was only trying to help. How could you hurt her feelings like that?” “Anyway, there’s a family dinner this afternoon. I’ll take Chloe over first, and I’ll send a driver for you.” “When you get there, just apologize to Chloe, and we can move past this. We’re getting married tomorrow. Let’s not ruin the mood.” A Levine family dinner, and he was escorting Chloe. When the driver knocked, I took one last look at my luggage. Fine. Eric had proposed to me in public. It was only fitting that I call it off in public, too. 3 When I arrived at the old Levine estate, Chloe was the center of attention, surrounded by admiring relatives. “Ava, over here!” She spotted me and glided over in her stilettos. I noticed she had changed into a stunning red evening gown. It was identical to the reception dress I had chosen for myself. I instinctively bit my lip. Just then, Eric came down the stairs. His eyes landed on Chloe, and they lit up with genuine wonder. “Chloe, you look beautiful!” She blushed. “Eric, stop it. Ava’s right here.” She turned to me, her expression a perfect mask of contrition. “Ava, please don’t be upset. I feel so terrible about causing that fight between you two this morning.” Eric couldn’t take his eyes off her, the sparkle in them undeniable. He didn’t even glance at me as he gently brushed an eyelash from under her eye. The gesture sent a ripple of laughter through the room. Eric’s father sighed wistfully. “Chloe and our Eric always did make a better pair, didn’t they?” I looked down at my own simple sea-green dress. I was no goddess, but Eric used to tell me I was beautiful all the time, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear with such care. Chloe was now chiding his father playfully. “Uncle, please don’t say things like that in front of Ava. You’ll hurt her feelings.” Eric’s parents just chuckled. Finally, Eric deigned to look at me, his face clouded with annoyance. “My parents watched Chloe grow up. Can’t you be a little less petty? It was just a compliment.” “No wonder my mother always says a good upbringing is everything,” he continued, his voice dripping with disdain. “You grew up with your grandmother in the countryside and didn’t move to the city until you were eighteen. You really don’t have any class at all.” My brow furrowed. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Eric, you know how much my grandmother loved you. Aren’t you afraid of hurting her by saying that?” He looked momentarily guilty, but with his family watching, his expression hardened again. “The point is, Chloe and I are just friends who grew up together. Don’t let your petty female jealousy upset her.” It always came back to Chloe. A profound weariness washed over me. The weight of the past few months, of our entire history, felt like a mountain crushing my chest. After a long moment, I finally spoke. “I came here today because I wanted to tell you…” “Eric!” Chloe interrupted loudly. “My best friend wants to come to Spain too! Are there any empty seats on the flight?” Eric nodded immediately. “Of course. I’ll arrange it.” His assistant hesitated. “Sir, wasn’t the last seat reserved for Ms. Quinn…?” “Oh, then never mind,” Chloe said, her voice laced with disappointment. “I don’t want to upset Ava…” Eric couldn’t stand to see her sad. “Ava can take another flight,” he said decisively. “Chloe’s friend doesn’t know anyone. She has to fly with us.” Chloe beamed, grabbing his arm and swinging it playfully. “Eric, I knew you were the best!” The contemptuous glances in the room shifted back to me. “Eric chartered two private jets just for the wedding, and now the bride isn’t even on one of them.” “So what? To save her family, Ava would walk there if she had to.” The whispers of ridicule surrounded me, but Eric, his eyes only for Chloe, didn’t hear me, didn’t see me. I was, and always had been, just a spectator. Sighing internally, I turned to leave. I would cancel the engagement later. But as I did, my eyes caught a glint of gold around Chloe’s neck. A necklace. Dangling from it was a diamond, cut in the shape of a plum blossom. My world exploded. “Where did you get that diamond?!”

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In my last life, I took the fall for the Ashford family’s perfect daughter. Five years in a concrete cell was the price. The day I got out, my welcome home party was the news of her lavish birthday gala, followed by the Ashford family stripping me naked and leaving me to freeze to death in a blizzard. When I opened my eyes again, I was five years old. It was the day my biological parents, the Ashfords, were supposed to take me home. But this time, my brother, Caleb Ashford, burst out of the house and stood in the doorway like a sentinel, pointing a trembling finger at my ragged clothes. “Dad, Mom, don’t bring her home,” he pleaded, his voice cracking. “She will destroy this family!” Seeing the raw terror in his eyes—a look so different from the cold indifference of my past life—I knew instantly. He remembered, too. After my parents left, their faces etched with disappointment, Caleb walked over to me. He shoved a hard candy into my hand, his small fingers digging into my palm. His voice was a low, chilling whisper. “This family only needs one daughter. And her name is Sophie.” He leaned closer, his breath a cold puff in the air. “A curse like you should have died out here where you belong.” 1 My fingers clenched around the candy, the sharp edges pressing into my skin until my nails nearly broke the surface. He was right, wasn’t he? In his memory, my only purpose was to be the family’s designated disaster shield. The scapegoat to be sacrificed whenever his precious Sophie made a mistake. Now, with a second chance, he saw the future. He saw me as a stain on their pristine reputation. A piece of trash like me didn’t deserve a place in the Ashford home. A bitter laugh escaped my lips, but it was followed by a tear that slid, hot and traitorous, down my cheek. I scrubbed it away fiercely, my knuckles raw. The girl they called Amelia Ashford was dead. She froze to death in the snow. The person standing here now was someone else. I was just… me. I turned my back on the grand house and walked back to a forgotten corner of the St. Jude’s Home for Children. It wasn’t long before a black sedan, sleek and silent, pulled up to the curb. The director of the home, Mrs. Gable, led an elderly man inside. He was tall and elegant, with a shock of silver hair and a kind face, leaning on a dark wood cane. The home erupted. The other children swarmed him like sparrows, a cacophony of chirps and desperate pleas for attention. “Hello, Grandpa!” “Sir, I can sing for you!” “Look at my drawing, sir! Look!” I stayed in my corner, an unnoticed shadow, a silent observer of the spectacle. But he noticed me. His eyes found mine across the chaotic room. He gently parted the sea of children and, with a steady rhythm from his cane, made his way toward me. “Little one,” he said, his voice warm and deep. “Why are you all alone over here? Don’t they like you?” I shook my head. I looked up at his face, into eyes that held a universe of wisdom, and offered him the candy. It was warm and slightly sticky from my clenched fist. “For you, sir,” I said, my voice steady, aiming for a calmness that no five-year-old should possess. He paused, a flicker of surprise in his expression. He took the candy, unwrapped the crinkling cellophane, and popped it into his mouth. A genuine, pleased smile spread across his face. “Mm. That’s very sweet.” He looked at me, really looked at me, for a long moment. “What’s your name?” “Mrs. Gable calls me Claire.” “Claire,” he repeated softly, nodding to himself. “Would you like to come home with me, Claire? Would you like to be my granddaughter?” The room fell silent. Every child’s head snapped in my direction, their eyes burning with envy. I didn’t hesitate. I gave a single, firm nod. “Yes.” A booming, heartfelt laugh filled the room. “Excellent! Wonderful! From this day forward, your name is Claire Sterling.” He took my hand. His was warm and dry, a safe harbor. “Sterling means of the highest quality. A person of integrity,” he said, his voice taking on a new gravity. “My child, I want you to grow into a woman who champions justice.” I understood the weight of his words, the promise they held. This was Marcus Sterling, a retired Supreme Court Justice, a living legend in the world of law. In that moment, I gripped his hand tighter. I became the cherished granddaughter of the Sterling family. Justice Sterling treated me like a precious gem. He personally taught me legal theory and logical reasoning, took me to sit in on court proceedings, and opened my eyes to a world of intellect and purpose. My new aunts and uncles, all brilliant lawyers, were busy but always brought me legal textbooks and case studies from their travels, their affection genuine. But the one who loved me most was my brother, Leo, who was ten years older than me. The first time he met me, he took off his gold-rimmed glasses, and his handsome, serious face broke into a gentle smile. “This is the littlest Sterling,” he declared to the world. “Nobody messes with her. Ever.” Wrapped in that kind of love, the wounds of my past life began to scar over. I poured myself into my studies. From law school to the bar exam, I was always number one. My room filled with trophies from mock trial championships and debate competitions. Twenty years later, I became one of the youngest and most formidable Assistant District Attorneys in the city. 2 Life was calm, full, and meaningful. I truly believed the Ashfords were a nightmare I had left behind forever. Until the day my paralegal, Sarah, knocked on my office door. “Claire? There’s a Mr. Caleb Ashford here to see you. He’s asking for you by name.” She glanced at her notepad. “Says he wants to retain you for a major corporate fraud case involving his company.” The name was a punch to the gut. My heart seized, a painful, involuntary spasm. I took a deep, steadying breath, pushing the emotion down until my voice was flat and professional. “Send him in.” A man in a perfectly tailored suit walked in. He was tall, with the same sharp jawline I remembered, but the boyishness was gone, replaced by a deep, handsome intensity. The moment Caleb Ashford saw me, he froze. His dark eyes widened with pure, unadulterated shock. He couldn’t have imagined, not in a million years, that the star prosecutor he was desperately trying to hire was the little girl he’d thrown away two decades ago. It took him a long moment to find his voice, and when he did, it was laced with disbelief. “You… you’re Claire Sterling? The Claire Sterling?” I nodded coolly. “Mr. Ashford. Please, have a seat. Though I believe there’s been a misunderstanding. I work for the District Attorney’s office. I don’t take on private clients.” He ignored my words, his gaze sweeping over me, scrutinizing, suspicious. “You’re really an attorney? How good are you? What are the odds you can win this for us?” His tone was so condescending, it was as if he expected me to be an imposter, a fraud who had stolen a name. Sarah, standing by the door, bristled. “Sir, Ms. Sterling is one of the most respected prosecutors in the state. Her time is extremely valuable—” I looked at Caleb, the corner of my mouth twitching into a ghost of a smile. “It seems you have reservations about my professional capabilities, Mr. Ashford.” I leaned back in my chair. “In that case, I believe this meeting is over.” I looked at my paralegal. “Sarah, show our guest out.” Caleb’s face darkened. He clenched his jaw, but in the end, he said nothing. He just turned on his heel and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Sarah threw her hands up in exasperation. “Claire, that guy has some nerve! Who does he think he is?” I gave a casual shrug, a small, genuine smile finally reaching my lips. “Don’t worry about it. Just a potential defendant who doesn’t know his place.” To me, it was nothing more than a minor, if bizarre, interruption. Later that evening, as I was leaving the courthouse, Caleb appeared out of the shadows of the main entrance, blocking my path. His expression was a dark, complicated storm. My brow furrowed instantly. “Can I help you?” He stared at me, a long, unnerving silence stretching between us before he finally bit out the words. “Amelia. I’m warning you.” The sound of my old name made my stomach turn. Twenty years ago, he was the one who refused to let me have that name, and now he was spitting it at me like an accusation. He continued, his voice low and threatening. “I don’t know what you’re playing at, but you will not use this case to hurt Sophie.” I almost laughed. He shows up on my doorstep begging for help, then has the audacity to warn me not to harm his precious sister? On what planet did he think I’d waste a second of my life on either of them? I looked at him like he was a raving lunatic. “My name is Claire Sterling, Mr. Ashford. You’d do well to remember that.” My voice was ice. “And for the record, I don’t know you. And I certainly don’t know your sister.” “As a prosecutor, my duty is to the law, not to frame innocent people. Why on earth would I want to harm a complete stranger?” Caleb stared, a flicker of genuine confusion crossing his face. “You… you don’t remember me?” He seemed fundamentally unable to process this. His voice rose, incredulous. “Twenty years ago! At the St. Jude’s home! I was the one who stopped them from—” He cut himself off, the words catching in his throat. Even he seemed to realize how monstrous his next words would have sounded. I looked at his flustered, guilty face, feeling nothing but a profound sense of disgust and pity. Of course I remembered. I remembered every contemptuous glare, every venomous word. I remembered the way he physically shoved me away, single-handedly obliterating every childhood fantasy I ever had about family. But I would give him nothing. I tilted my head, putting on a show of deep concentration. Then, my face broke into a look of slow, dawning realization. “Ohhhh,” I drew the sound out. “Now I remember.” I looked him straight in the eye, my expression a perfect mask of polite innocence. “I’m so sorry. It was twenty years ago, you understand. It’s all a bit of a blur. With all the important case files I have to review every day, I’m afraid I don’t have much space left for… trivial matters.” 3 Caleb’s face went rigid. Trivial matters? For him, it was a life-altering decision. For me, I had just dismissed it as insignificant clutter. It was a deeper cut than any insult I could have hurled. He gritted his teeth, refusing to let it go. “Stop playing games! You’re just holding a grudge because I stopped my parents from adopting you, and now you’re looking for revenge against me and my sister!” This time, I did laugh. A short, sharp, humorless sound. “Mr. Ashford, are you always this narcissistic?” My smile vanished, and my eyes turned to steel. “Revenge? On you? Do you honestly think you’re that important?” I took a step closer. “If anything, I should be thanking you. If you hadn’t been so adamant about casting me out, would I ever have been found by Justice Marcus Sterling? Would I have the life I have now?” My voice was light, conversational, but every word was a precisely aimed dart. “So, you see, I’m far too grateful to ever hate you.” He was speechless, his face a mottled canvas of red and white. “Marcus Sterling? Don’t be ridiculous!” he finally sputtered, latching onto what he thought was a lie. “You think sharing a last name makes you his family? Stop dreaming! Someone like you could never step foot in the Sterling house!” As the last word left his mouth, a black Bentley glided to a silent stop beside us. The back door opened, and a tall, impeccably dressed man emerged. Leo. He walked straight to my side, draping his suit jacket over my shoulders with a familiar, easy gesture. He didn’t even glance at Caleb, his focus entirely on me as he gently brushed a strand of hair from my face. “Claire, what’s taking you so long? Grandpa’s getting impatient.” Only then did his gaze fall on Caleb, his expression coolly indifferent. “Sister, who’s this?” I looped my arm through Leo’s, my smile bright and genuine. “No one, big brother. Just a man asking for legal advice. We were just finishing up.” Caleb was frozen to the spot. He stared, dumbfounded, at the casual intimacy between us, then at the car that screamed of old money and influence. He wasn’t an idiot. He knew who Leo Sterling was—the founder of Sterling & Croft, one of the most powerful law firms in the country. And he knew the rumors: that Leo Sterling had a younger sister the entire family doted on. He just never, in his wildest nightmares, imagined that sister could be me. I saw the flicker in his eyes, the image that must have flashed through his mind: the ghost of a girl in a prison jumpsuit, staring at him with dead eyes through plexiglass. And now, here I was, smiling, vibrant, holding onto the arm of another man and calling him brother. While he was still reeling, I was already sliding into the plush leather of Leo’s car. The next day, Sarah informed me that Caleb Ashford had pulled every string he could, petitioning to have his company’s fraud case transferred to my jurisdiction at the D.A.’s office, specifically requesting my involvement as the lead prosecutor. Sarah sorted through the documents on my desk, shaking her head. “Is this guy for real, Claire? One day he’s acting like you’re a hack, the next he’s practically begging for you. I bet he found out who you are and now he’s trying to kiss up.” I just smiled, saying nothing. I signed my name on the case transfer request. Let’s see what game he was trying to play. 4 At three o’clock that afternoon, the Ashford family—Caleb, his parents, and Sophie—appeared in my office. This time, they were here as the family of a suspect under investigation. Twenty years hadn’t changed Sophie much. She was still meticulously put together, radiating a fragile, helpless innocence that made you want to protect her. Caleb’s demeanor was a complete one-eighty from our last encounter. He was deferential, almost timid. “Ms. Sterling, I was out of line the other day. I apologize.” Richard and Helen Ashford stood awkwardly behind him, their gazes filled with a complex cocktail of guilt and curiosity. I ignored them, my eyes landing directly on Sophie. “The suspect can stay. The rest of you can wait outside.” The heavy office door clicked shut, sealing us in. The room was now just me and Sophie. Instantly, the mask of frail vulnerability fell from her face, vanishing without a trace. It was replaced by a look of pure, undisguised venom. Her eyes raked over me, my suit, my office, a mocking smile playing on her lips. “Amelia. Oh, sorry, I guess I have to call you Claire now.” Her voice was saccharine sweet, but laced with poison. “I have to hand it to you. You’re a survivor. Kicked out by our family and you still managed to latch onto the Sterlings. You’re quite the social climber.” I watched her, my expression placid. She was a clown, and I was the unimpressed audience. “Sophie Ashford, this is a formal interrogation. I suggest you remember where you are.” My coldness seemed to fuel her fire. She leaned back in her chair, her tone becoming even more acidic. “What, you think being a prosecutor makes you special? You still have to sit there and watch me live a better life than you, don’t you?” She smirked. “Let me tell you something. Even if you’re a Sterling now, it doesn’t matter. In my brother’s heart, you’ll never be worth a single strand of my hair.” “The only reason he’s even talking to you is because he didn’t know who you were. So don’t get any ideas. You were born to be beneath my feet, and that’s where you’ll always stay.” In our past life, she was exactly the same. A master of the two-faced performance. The sweet, perfect sister in front of our parents and Caleb; a vicious, cruel tormentor in private. She was the one who hit someone with her car, then tearfully begged me to take the blame, swearing she would be indebted to me for life. The moment I was behind bars, she was off touring the world with her rich friends, forgetting I ever existed. And I could never defend myself. Every time I tried, it only earned me deeper disgust from Caleb and utter abandonment from my parents. But none of that mattered anymore. In this life, I was immune to her pathetic games. I conducted the interview by the book, a two-hour-long interrogation where every question was a scalpel, aimed at the heart of the case. She thought she was clever, denying every key point, even trying to accuse me of abusing my power to settle a personal vendetta. I watched her shoddy performance, my own expression growing colder and harder. I could feel the old anger rising, a familiar beast in my chest, and I suppressed it, giving her a single, sharp glare. She flinched, a flicker of fear in her eyes. When it was over, I had her sign the official transcript. Then, my face a grim mask, I walked out of the office without another word. The three Ashfords were pacing anxiously in the hallway. Caleb rushed forward the moment he saw me. “Ms. Sterling, Sophie… how did it go?” Helen Ashford grabbed my arm, her eyes red-rimmed. “Ms. Sterling, please, my daughter is innocent! This has to be a misunderstanding!” I looked past her, directly at Caleb, my face devoid of all emotion. “Your sister’s case is open-and-shut,” I announced, my voice carrying down the hall. “The evidence is conclusive. We’ll be filing formal charges shortly.” The air went still. Even Sarah stared at me, her mouth slightly agape. I had never, ever made such a swift, definitive statement about a case. It went against my entire professional ethos. The color drained from Richard and Helen’s faces. Helen’s knees buckled, and she nearly collapsed. “No… how can that be? Sophie would never…” Caleb’s expression immediately hardened into a sneer. “That’s impossible! Sophie swore to me she was innocent! You have no proof!” His voice rose to a shout. “You’re framing her! This is your revenge!” Right on cue, the office door opened and Sophie emerged. She heard my declaration, and a flicker of triumph crossed her face before she expertly crumpled, sobbing, into Caleb’s arms. “It’s okay, Caleb… I knew she would do this to me. It’s not her fault…” I stared coldly at their family drama, and then I delivered the final blow. “She is guilty because your precious daughter just gave a full confession.”

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To win over the boy I’d loved my whole life, I took my yoga teacher’s advice. I got my braces off, had laser eye surgery, and threw myself into self-improvement. My yoga teacher, Jasmine, had an icy sort of beauty, but her love life was anything but. On a few urgent occasions, she even had me run errands for her—delivering condoms to her dates. I was finally ready to confess my feelings to him. Then, I got a call from Jasmine. “Sweetie, be a doll and bring me the morning-after pill.” Her voice was a husky, seductive purr. “I really hit the jackpot. Never met a virgin with this much stamina.” She hung up. My heart sank as I looked at the address she’d sent. The location pinged to the house of the one person everyone considered untouchable, the school’s ice prince— My childhood friend, Chaz. 1 I stood at Chaz Levine’s front door, but I couldn’t bring myself to knock. For years, this was my spot. Every morning, I’d wait here for him so we could walk to school together. Every evening, I’d stand here to bring him dinner. But this time, clutching the small paper bag with the pill inside, my hand wouldn’t move. As I hesitated, another message from Jasmine came through: 【Just hang the bag on the doorknob! Whatever you do, DO NOT KNOCK!】 Before I could even wonder why, a series of voice notes followed. I played the first one, my phone pressed tight against my ear. 【I take back everything I said about college guys. This one knows what he’s doing… or at least, he’s an enthusiastic learner.】 Jasmine was slightly breathless, a thrill humming in her voice. 【He might not have the technique of a more experienced guy, but damn, that raw strength… He’s wearing me out in the best way…】 Her words were cut off by a sudden rustling sound. The chat went silent. But through the thin wood of the door, I could hear it—Jasmine’s voice, a playful, purring plea for him to go easy on her. I fought back the acid rising in my throat. My fingers hovered over the keypad of the lock, the code a familiar rhythm under my skin. But I couldn’t do it. I hung the bag on the handle and sent a single word back to Jasmine: 【Done.】 Then I fled, like a deserter abandoning the battlefield. 2 I had imagined a hundred different ways Chaz might react to my confession. The worst-case scenario was a simple rejection. I never, ever imagined it would be like this, a suffocating, silent blow. I clutched the eight-hundred-word love letter I’d poured my soul into and hid in a quiet corner of the park, crying until I couldn’t cry anymore. By the time night fell, I walked home with two puffy, red-rimmed eyes. 3 When I got home, Dad poked his head out of the kitchen. “Annie, you’re back! Was it a long day?” I mumbled a noncommittal reply and was about to escape to my room when Mom grabbed my arm. “Where do you think you’re going?” Before I could answer, she tapped my arm playfully. “Annie, you’re such a scatterbrain. Did you really forget what today is?” I stared at her blankly. Before my mind could catch up, the front door opened with a familiar click, and Chaz walked in, carrying a bag of fresh fruit. Mom instantly let go of me, her face lighting up as she went to greet him. And then I remembered. It was Chaz’s birthday. That’s why I had chosen today to confess. But now, seeing him, I couldn’t find the courage to even look him in the eye. Chaz acted as if nothing was wrong, heading straight to the kitchen to help my dad. I used the moment to splash cold water on my face, trying to erase the evidence of my breakdown. When I came out, the table was set with dinner and a birthday cake. In the flickering candlelight, I watched the sharp, elegant line of his jaw and couldn’t stop picturing him with Jasmine, their bodies tangled together. Jasmine was adventurous. She loved to brag to us about the new tricks she tried with the men she slept with. … “Chaz, you and our Annie have known each other your whole lives.” After a few glasses of wine, my dad’s eyes were red with emotion. “It’s been so many years since your parents… well, your Aunt Sarah and I have always thought of you as our own son.” He paused, his voice thick. “You know that, right?” I snapped out of my thoughts, my head jerking up to look at my dad. I was about to say something, anything, to stop him. But under the table, my mom gently patted my hand, giving me a slight shake of her head. I heard my dad, usually so steady, his voice trembling with a rare uncertainty as he spoke to Chaz. “We’ve all seen how much Annie looks up to you… how much she likes you. You’re both adults now, you’ll be starting university together soon. Your uncle was hoping…” He trailed off, then downed another glass of wine as if for courage. “I’ve watched you grow up. We wouldn’t trust anyone else with her. You… you’ll take good care of our Annie, won’t you?” The air in the room froze. My parents stared at Chaz, their faces filled with hopeful expectation. I could feel my mom’s body trembling slightly next to me. But Chaz’s expression was as cool and unreadable as ever. His long, elegant fingers tapped a light, rhythmic pattern against his wine glass. Just as I was about to jump to my feet and break the unbearable tension, I heard him speak. A soft, simple, “Yeah.” He lifted his gaze to meet my father’s, his voice calm and even. “I will.” 4 I looked up, my eyes wide with disbelief. Chaz’s gaze met mine, and a faint smile touched his lips. “I’ll take good care of Annie. You and Aunt Sarah don’t have to worry.” Just as I was about to speak, my phone buzzed. It was a video from Jasmine, of her dancing with a male model at a club, followed by a voice note. Flustered, I quickly hit the voice-to-text option: 【Annie Song! Are you still hung up on that boring childhood friend of yours? Take a lesson from me, babe. It’s about the body, not the heart!】 【I was supposed to have a date with a rich heir tonight, but that college guy completely wrecked me today. I’m too sore for anything serious, so I just came out for some eye candy and to feel up some abs. ;)】 【But thanks for the help today! I’ll give you a free class tomorrow, good girl!】 I stared down at my phone like a student caught cheating in class. I typed back: 【Are you and that college guy… a couple?】 My question must have seemed to come out of nowhere. The “typing…” indicator blinked for a long time before she replied with a single “?” I glanced at Chaz across the table, a wave of guilt washing over me. Just as I was about to delete my message, her reply came through: 【Are you kidding? Me, tied down by him?】 【He’s lucky I’m even letting him be my friend with benefits. He wants a title? He’ll have to get in line behind the forty other handsome, rich guys who’ve tried!】 For some reason, a wave of relief washed over me. I shut off my phone, looked up at a slightly tipsy Chaz, and smiled at him. “Happy birthday.” 5 Maybe it was the alcohol, but my dad’s eyes welled up. “Good, good,” he said, repeating the word several times. He stood and clapped Chaz on the shoulder. “Good boy. I always knew you were a good boy.” His voice cracked. Realizing he was getting overly emotional, he stood up abruptly, wiping his face with his hand. “I’ll… I’ll go make you some longevity noodles.” I was feeling a little dizzy myself. I leaned against my mom and started counting on my fingers. “This is the… seventh birthday we’ve celebrated together…” Time really did fly. The timid, fragile little boy had grown into a tall, handsome young man. That year, he had lost both his parents overnight. He was left completely alone. The thought of raising a child, paying for his education, a car, a house, a wedding… it was enough to make all his other relatives avoid him like the plague, terrified of the responsibility. Only my parents, their hearts breaking for him, stepped up. To make sure he never felt like a charity case, our whole family went out of our way to give him the best of everything. And it had all been worth it. Everything had turned out so well. “Chaz’s had a bit too much to drink. Why don’t you walk him home?” Mom nudged me with her elbow. “Go on.” “Oh,” I said, looking up. My eyes met Chaz’s. They were dark, intense. He smiled, his voice a low, husky whisper that felt like a spell. “Annie. I’ll be in your care, then.” 6 Chaz’s apartment was just one building over from ours. For years, he’d spent nearly all his waking hours at our place. I’d never once thought the short walk between our homes was long. Until tonight. “Annie Song.” I was lost in thought when Chaz’s voice, soft and lazy, called my name. “Annie Song.” There was an intimacy in his tone I’d never heard before. Before I could ask, he had pulled me into his arms, pinning me against the cold metal wall of the elevator. I struggled for a moment, but froze when he suddenly leaned down. His eyebrow was arched, a smirk playing on his lips. Flushed with alcohol, he lowered his face to mine— I squeezed my fists, my heart hammering as I shut my eyes. After a few long, agonizing seconds, Chaz chuckled. “So you really are in love with me.” His beautiful, dark eyes stared directly into mine. “How did I never notice? How did I miss it?” A sense of dread washed over me. I blushed, my voice barely a whisper. “What?” “Why did you close your eyes?” he asked. “Did you think I was going to kiss you?” Just like that, his voice turned cold, back to the familiar, distant tone he always used. “Is this fun for you? What is this, some kind of guilt trip? Forcing me to repay your family’s kindness?” “I told you, once I start making money, I’ll pay your family back for everything, with interest. Why are you trying to force me into a relationship?” “I don’t get it! Am I your family’s… what? Indentured husband? Just because you took me in, I have to be with you? Tie myself to your family for the rest of my life?” His voice grew louder with every word. I had never seen him so out of control. In my shock, I forgot the one thing I should have said. “You know, you could have just said no.” 7 Chaz pulled a cigarette from his pocket. As I stared in shock, he let out a bitter laugh. “What? Going to run and tell on me?” He took a drag and blew a perfect smoke ring right in my face. “Go on. Tell them I smoke. Tell them I’m not the good guy you should spend your life with. Then… set me free.” I looked at him, and it was like seeing a complete stranger. After a long, heavy silence, I spoke, my voice soft. “I’ll talk to Mom and Dad.” I looked down, fighting to keep the tears from falling. My voice was choked. “You don’t have to do this.” 8 Chaz was always distant with everyone. He hated when people got too close. Except for me. Not only did he not push me away, but he’d secretly laugh when I did something silly. He’d carry me on his back to the clinic when I was sick with a fever. I always thought he liked me, too. That he was just naturally reserved and bad at expressing his feelings. So I told myself that if I could just become a little more beautiful, a little more confident, I would be the one to confess. I signed up for yoga classes to improve my posture. After I met Jasmine, she taught me how to be beautiful. How to… capture a man’s heart. Looking back now, I was such a fool. 9 The next morning, I went to my yoga class as scheduled. My plan was to act like nothing had happened, finish my remaining sessions, and then go on a long trip with my parents. I never expected to be slapped the moment I walked through the door. Jasmine stood there, her long neck held high, her voice dripping with contempt. “You look so innocent. Who knew you were such a shameless, backstabbing bitch?” My head was ringing from the blow. When I looked up, I saw that it wasn’t just the other students in the room. Chaz was there, too. “Writing love letters to my boyfriend? You have some nerve, don’t you?” Jasmine’s face was red with fury. Her long, manicured nails poked me hard in the chest. “What, you think because you’re young you can just seduce other people’s boyfriends? You want to be a homewrecker?” She stomped her foot dramatically and linked her arm through Chaz’s, her voice breaking into a sob. “Chaz, say something! This is the little tramp who’s trying to ruin our relationship! This is why you wanted to break up with me, isn’t it?!” 10 I didn’t even have time to process what she meant by “break up.” My hand flew up instinctively to strike back. But Chaz caught my wrist. “Have you caused enough trouble?” he snapped, his voice filled with irritation. “Isn’t this exactly what you wanted to see?” He started pulling me towards the door. He glanced back at Jasmine, his voice low and heavy. “This is my fault. I’m the one who’s sorry.” “Forget about me.” His grip on my wrist was painfully tight. The look he gave Jasmine was a mixture of resignation and something that looked like regret. “Once school starts, Annie and I will be at Kingston University. You… you won’t see me. It’ll be better that way.” Jasmine’s mouth fell open in disbelief. I knew her. She was proud, arrogant. A veteran of the dating scene who had never lost. Chaz was probably the first man to ever deal her such a blow. I never imagined she would get so angry that she would forward my love letter, along with intimate photos of her and Chaz, to the entire yoga class group chat. 【Everyone, meet my star student! Not only does she take my class, she also tries to steal my boyfriend!】 After sending it, she tagged my parents. 【Is this how you raised your daughter?】 I lunged for her phone like a madwoman, but Chaz held me back, whispering soothing words to Jasmine. “Let it out, it’s better this way. It’s already happened, I didn’t…” I laughed, a bitter, broken sound. Fine. I pulled out my phone and scrolled back through my chat history, finding all the records of my condom delivery runs for her. “Chaz,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “You don’t actually think your so-called girlfriend is some kind of innocent angel, do you?” 11 In the month I’d known Jasmine, I had delivered condoms for her fifteen times. “So many men, so little time,” she’d always say. “The new ones are always the most fun.” I’d once asked her if she was ever afraid of getting her heart broken. She just laughed. “Oh, you really are still just a little flower bud, aren’t you?” “Listen, sweetie—I’m always accepting boyfriend applications, but I’m never looking for a long-term commitment. I have no exes, you understand?” Back then, I had just blinked at her, confused. I had to admit, Jasmine was stunning. She had that bold, striking beauty that turned heads, and she always wore tight dresses that showed off her figure, adding to her allure. Sensing my gaze, she had tapped my forehead playfully. “Stick with me. In one month, I’ll turn you into the kind of woman men can’t resist. You’ll have your crush eating out of the palm of your hand. The only condition is, you have to be my errand girl. Because you… you’re fast.” A call from my dad pulled me from my thoughts. I looked at the screen, then hit decline. Without another thought, I forwarded my entire chat history with Jasmine, along with the receipts, to the group chat. Behind me, the other students staring at their phones gasped. “Holy crap, she’s wild!” “I knew she played around, but this is a whole other level! Damn. How does someone like that even become a teacher?” “So she’s that promiscuous, and she has the audacity to accuse someone else… Wait, so is Annie the other woman or not?” Their scorching gazes felt like they were burning holes in my skin. I tried to stay calm, pulling up the screenshot from last night where I had asked Jasmine if she and Chaz were a couple, ready to prove my innocence. “Jasmine is my girlfriend.” Chaz’s voice cut through the murmurs. His face was a dark mask. He stepped forward and put a protective arm around a stunned-looking Jasmine. His voice wasn’t loud, but it was firm. “I don’t care what she was like before. She is my girlfriend now, and I don’t want to see any of you prying into her private life and making a big deal out of it.” Jasmine’s head snapped up, a deep blush spreading across her cheeks. I stood frozen, feeling like I’d just been nailed to a cross for the whole world to see.

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I flew halfway across the world for her. A red-eye from Paris, straight into the buzzing chaos of the national dance finals in New York, all to see Seraphina win. I was running on fumes, but the thought of her smile was better than any caffeine. Then I heard the interviewer’s voice boom through the auditorium. “Sera, we’re all dying to know,” the bubbly host said, holding up a phone, “who is ‘Maybach Moneybags’ in your contacts?” A ripple of laughter went through the crowd. On the giant screen above the stage, Seraphina offered a practiced, delicate shrug. “Oh, him?” she said, her voice light as air. “Just… an admirer.” In the shadows of the back row, the brand-new, custom Chanel box slipped from my grasp. It hit the floor with a soft, sickening thud. My car is a Maybach. And I’m the one who provides the “moneybags.” … I bent down, my hands trembling slightly as I retrieved the box, carefully brushing a speck of dust from its glossy surface. Another question echoed from the stage. “The word is, Seraphina, that your boyfriend is absolutely devoted to you. He’s often seen dropping off gifts, even meals, in a Maybach.” Seraphina’s smile was flawless, but her answer was a masterpiece of evasion. “My career has to be my focus right now,” she demurred. “Besides, I don’t think showering a girl with expensive gifts is truly a sign of love. A true connection is about a meeting of the minds, a spiritual bond.” In the roaring auditorium, I heard a distinct, quiet crack. It might have been my heart. Five years together, and I had been reduced to a nickname in her phone, a label. Seraphina was a star, the kind of beautiful that commanded attention the moment she entered a room. Smart, a gifted dancer, with a voice that could charm anyone. Whenever I was stressed out from a business deal gone wrong, she’d perform an impromptu dance for me, right there on the street, drawing a small crowd of mesmerized onlookers snapping pictures with their phones. She’d caused a major stir her senior year at Juilliard. A prestigious dance company had offered her a spot, a dream for most, but she’d turned it down to pursue a master’s fellowship instead. She’d laughed, her face bright with ambition. “A job can wait. This time, right now, is for my art.” I had to admit, she was strategic. In the three years of her master’s program, she’d not only swept every major award in the contemporary dance world but also fielded offers from half a dozen elite companies. Everyone called her an “angel born to dance.” Compared to her, I was painfully ordinary. My grades had been average. I had no artistic talent to speak of. The only thing I had going for me was a relentless work ethic and a decent head for business. In college, while others were studying, I was hustling—hawking water bottles at campus games, roses on Valentine’s Day, ridiculously overpriced apples wrapped in cellophane at Christmas. So, when graduation came, I didn’t follow her to grad school. I went to build my empire. I remember buying my first car that year, a beat-up secondhand Volkswagen. I drove it to pick her up from her dorm, but she stopped me at the main gate of the campus. “You can just drop me here,” she’d said, avoiding my eyes. “You should head back.” I was confused. I watched as other, sleeker cars drove past us onto the manicured grounds. “Is it the car?” I asked, the question tasting like ash in my mouth. “Are you embarrassed?” She’d pouted, her lower lip pushing out in that way I found irresistible. “Don’t be silly. I just don’t want people to think I’m getting special treatment.” There were other times, too. I’d buy coffee or snacks for her roommates, trying to be the good boyfriend, but she’d always intercept me. “I’ll take them up, it’s fine! I’d hate for them to get jealous of me having such a wonderful boyfriend,” she’d say, and the meeting would never happen. Until today. She knew I was in Paris closing a deal. She must have felt safe, posting that Instagram story yesterday: “Finals tomorrow! So nervous. Wonder who will be there to cheer me on?” It was paired with the official competition poster, complete with the time and address. A clear invitation. The interview on stage was causing a sensation. Seraphina glowed under the spotlights, a celestial body I was suddenly realizing I could never truly reach. I was about to slip away unnoticed when I bumped squarely into someone. A man in a sharp suit and designer glasses, his voice dripping with condescending amusement. “Well, well,” he said, loudly enough for those around us to hear. “If it isn’t Seraphina’s number one benefactor.” The chatter around me died. As if on cue, a spotlight swiveled and landed directly on me. On stage, Seraphina’s eyes widened. I saw a flicker of panic on the Jumbotron, but it vanished as quickly as it came, replaced by her signature, dazzling smile. “Leo! Oh my god!” she exclaimed into the mic. “Weren’t you just in Paris yesterday? Did you come all this way just to see me compete?” That look of innocent, joyful surprise. It could melt any man’s heart. For a moment, it worked. The anger, the humiliation, it all just evaporated. I found myself smiling back. “Of course,” I said, my voice smoother than I felt. “I came back just for you.” It was a flimsy lie, but after years in the business world, you learn one thing: never show your hand until the final card is played. And if I was being honest with myself, it wasn’t just habit. It was because, despite everything, I loved her. I wanted to give her a chance to make this right. Seraphina’s smile was warm, enchanting. “Everyone,” she announced to the auditorium, “I’d like you to meet a very dear friend and supporter of mine, the founder of the Pinnacle Group, Leo Pierce.” Chapter 2 A dear friend. That’s all. The words echoed in my head, and the anger and hurt I’d just suppressed came rushing back. The atmosphere was thick with unspoken questions. Every eye in the section seemed to drift down to the Chanel box in my hand, and I could see the dawning comprehension on their faces. So, he’s the one. The man in the suit, Julian, broke the tension. “Nice bag,” he sneered, his eyes glinting behind his glasses. “Must have set you back a pretty penny. Hope you didn’t have to take out a loan for it.” I just stared at him. A loan for a handbag? That was a new one. Before I could formulate a response, Seraphina cut in, her tone playfully scolding. “Julian, stop it,” she said. “Just because you landed that internship at Goldman Sachs doesn’t mean you’re the only one who understands finance.” They bantered like that, oblivious to the hundreds of people watching them, a private joke playing out on a public stage. Julian pushed his glasses up his nose, a smug, indulgent smile on his face. He looked every bit the polished, Ivy League intellectual. Julian. I’d seen the name before. On her Instagram. A photo of his back, with the caption: Hate how smart he is, always making me look bad. 😉 She’d complained to me about him, too. Some finance guy at school who was annoyingly brilliant and could sing like a professional, always stealing her thunder. The complaint was couched in annoyance, but the subtext was sparkling with something else. The host, sensing the awkwardness, tried to recover. “Mr. Pierce came thousands of miles to witness Seraphina’s triumph!” he announced. “Let’s get him up on stage to present his gift to our star in person! What do you say, folks?” A wave of applause and cheers washed over the hall. Seraphina’s face fell. I saw it clearly on the screen. “That’s not necessary,” she said, her voice quiet but firm. The host froze. Quickly, she offered an out. “We’re all going for a celebratory dinner later.” A dinner. Not a date. A bitter laugh escaped me. I stood there, rooted to the spot, feeling utterly lost. Suddenly, there was a commotion. Julian, with surprising athleticism, vaulted from the front row onto the stage. He snatched the microphone from the host’s hand and turned to Seraphina. “I know you don’t care for extravagant, material things,” he declared, his voice ringing with sincerity. “So, to celebrate your victory, I wanted to give you something from the heart. A song.” A blush crept up Seraphina’s neck. She was half-delighted, half-embarrassed. “Right now?” she whispered. He nodded. “Well… okay. Go on, I’m listening.” Seraphina was right. The guy could sing. He had the kind of voice that wins reality shows, smooth and full of emotion. On stage, they were a perfect picture: the handsome troubadour and the graceful ballerina. He sang, and she began to move, an improvised dance that was fluid and breathtaking. They were perfectly in sync, two artists weaving a spell that captivated the entire audience. The song ended. The applause was deafening. And I, standing under my solitary spotlight, began to laugh. A hollow, ugly sound. On the Jumbotron, my cynical smile was stark and jarring for everyone to see. Chapter 3 Julian looked at me, a wounded expression on his face. “Does Mr. Pierce feel my gift is inferior to a Chanel bag?” he asked, his voice laced with false humility. The unspoken accusation hung in the air: All you have is your money. Seraphina shot me a look from the stage. It was a clear, undisguised warning. Don’t you dare say a word. But I hadn’t said anything. You can be greedy, you can be vain, you can even be unfaithful. But you can’t be blind. You can’t lack basic judgment. I held her gaze for a long moment, then, just as the spotlight on me finally faded, I turned and walked out of the auditorium. Seraphina was right about one thing. People need a spiritual connection, not just a pile of money. And, I had to admit, I did love money. I’d fought tooth and nail for every penny. For years, I’d worked day and night, tackling impossible projects, building the Pinnacle Group from nothing into one of the city’s leading investment firms. I had a sharp eye for opportunity; I wanted to invest in everything, to win every deal. I bought prime real estate, drove luxury cars, wore designer clothes. This dance competition was the first investment I’d ever made without calculating the return. I’d poured a small fortune into sponsoring the event, making quiet arrangements with the organizers to ensure Seraphina was crowned the winner. The plan was for her to then become the official brand ambassador for Pinnacle. We wouldn’t just be a couple; we’d be partners. Our lives, even more intertwined. I thought she was the one pure thing in my life, a refreshing stream in my world of crass commerce. In high school, my grandparents passed away. My parents had been out of the picture for years. I was, for all intents and purposes, an orphan. But orphans have to eat, too. So I started working, juggling classes and odd jobs. In that gray, washed-out world, Seraphina was the only splash of color. She’d secretly slip her breakfast into my desk, then deny it with a proud toss of her head if I caught her. She’d round up her friends to buy water from me at the track meets, flowers on Valentine’s, apples at Christmas. When kids whispered that I was the charity case whose parents had abandoned him, she’d just catch my eye from across the cafeteria, sipping her soda, and give me a small, conspiratorial smile. It was a silent, powerful comfort. No one had ever protected me, ever truly loved me. She was the first person to offer me any kind of warmth. That’s why I worked so hard, fought so fiercely. All I wanted was to give her the world, to protect her, to love her. I hadn’t even reached the parking garage when I heard a peal of giggles. “Wow, so this is a Maybach,” a girl’s voice said. “It’s so insane. I’ve never even been in one.” Another voice, dripping with disdain, replied, “Please. When Sera’s sugar daddy gets here, just ask him for a joyride.” I had a sinking feeling they were talking about me. Sure enough, I rounded the corner to see a group of long-legged dancers, two of whom I recognized as Seraphina’s roommates, huddled around my car. They saw me approach and didn’t even flinch. Instead, one of them raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Hey, you,” she said. “Take us for a spin, get us each a little something from Dior, and we’ll put in a good word for you with Sera. What do you say?” Her friend chimed in. “And just some friendly advice? That singer on stage? He’s a finance prodigy. Your stock is dropping, fast.” If my life were a play, I would have paid to watch it from the audience, just to understand how I had become so pathetic that my girlfriend’s roommates thought they could use her as a bargaining chip to control me. I remembered all the times Sera told me her roommates were “difficult,” and how I’d constantly buy them makeup and gift cards, just so they’d be nice to her. Right then, I wished they were a pack of street thugs instead of a gaggle of aspiring ballerinas. At least then I could have thrown a punch. But I couldn’t. I had to choose my words carefully, lest they twist them into some social media horror story. As they spoke, one of the girls brazenly tried the passenger door handle. To my surprise, it clicked open. She was about to slide in when a hand shot out and blocked her way. “Hold on,” a crisp, unfamiliar voice said. “I believe this vehicle is under a rental agreement. With me.” I looked up, stunned, into a clear, intelligent face I’d never seen before. She was about Seraphina’s age, dressed in a large, stylish overcoat that hid her figure, but on her feet were a pair of limited-edition designer heels. The dancers stared, confused, before one of them scoffed. “Whatever. Broke loser, pretending to be rich,” she muttered, and the group sauntered away. The strange girl opened the passenger door, slid in, and buckled her seatbelt with an air of familiarity. “Get in,” she said. The Maybach’s engine purred to life, the sound echoing through the concrete garage. A minute later, we were cruising down the avenue. “Sorry about that,” she said politely. “You looked like you were in a tight spot, so I improvised. Don’t worry, this isn’t some elaborate scam. You can just drop me at the nearest subway station.” I managed a small smile. The first real one of the night. A girl wearing thousand-dollar shoes was probably the one doing the scamming, not the other way around. Following her directions, I pulled over to the curb. “How are you getting home?” I asked. She grinned. “On the multi-billion-dollar MTA transit system. The 1 train awaits.” I laughed. It felt good. “Thank you,” I said again, genuinely. She waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t mention it.” With that, she hopped out and disappeared down the subway entrance. It wasn’t until I was pulling back into traffic that her words from the garage fully registered. The way she’d said my name. No one in the business world called me Leo Pierce with that wry, almost playful tone. It was as if she knew me from another lifetime. A lifetime before the Maybach and the Pinnacle Group.

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After my arranged-marriage husband went blind, I started walking around the house in my lingerie. Sometimes, nothing at all. He would just sit there on the sofa, a picture of calm silence. But the tips of his ears would always turn pink, and sometimes, he’d get a random nosebleed. Then one day, I heard his thoughts. 【Should I tell my wife I can actually see again?】 【God, her waist looks so damn soft.】 【I wonder what it would feel like to hold…】 【Her legs are so long.】 【I wonder what they’d feel like wrapped around my shoulders…】 “Stop it!” I lunged forward and clamped my hand over his mouth. 1 I stumbled home from the club, exhausted in body and soul. My father was sitting on the sofa, arms crossed, with a serene smile on his face. “I have some wonderful news.” “What?” “The company’s bankrupt.” I stared at him. “…Dad, has the grief driven you insane?” “Don’t be silly. I’m saying it’s a blessing in disguise.” “What kind of blessing?” I had a very bad feeling about this. “The Thorne family wants to arrange a marriage.” The Thornes? They only had one son. Adrian Thorne. But he’d been in a car accident a few months ago. He was blind. I was supposed to marry a blind man? No way. I wasn’t done living my life yet. “So you’re selling your daughter?” I looked at him like he was the enemy. “Dad, I’m a mess. I cheat, I’m fickle, I’ll bring shame to their family and they’ll break my legs. Besides, Adrian Thorne is blind—” “How dare you speak about your future husband that way?” my father roared. Three days later, I was practically shoved into the wedding car. At the ceremony, the officiant asked, “Mr. Adrian Thorne, do you take Miss Gigi Carter to be your lawfully wedded wife?” The man before me was devastatingly handsome, with deep-set eyes and a cool, distant air. The perfectly tailored black suit made him look like a star from a classic movie. “I do,” he said, his voice flat and cold. Ugh. Jerk. Ice block. You’ll never have me! Who cares if you’re handsome? The officiant turned to me. “And do you, Miss Gigi Carter, take Mr. Adrian Thorne to be your lawfully wedded husband?” “I DO NOT!” I screamed. “I DON’T, I DON’T, I—mmph!” A bodyguard standing behind me clamped a hand over my mouth. The officiant didn’t miss a beat, maintaining his professional smile. “Excellent. It seems the couple is in perfect agreement.” 2 That night, I was tossed onto the wedding bed, still trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey. I’d cursed my father until my throat was raw, and I was just starting to drift off when the door creaked open. The sound of expensive leather shoes on the hardwood floor echoed in the silent room, each step a sharp tap against my eardrums. I was instantly awake. “Help! I’ve been sold against my will! Somebody help me!” “Gigi.” The man calmly adjusted his cuffs. His voice was like a cold winter rain, sending a shiver down my spine. “What do you want?” I watched, wide-eyed, as he moved closer. Help! Isn’t he supposed to be blind? Why is he walking so steadily? Where’s his cane? “Adrian! Please, let me go! You don’t like me, I don’t like you! It’s perfect! I can set you up with my best friend! She’s gorgeous and sweet, seriously!” I was practically begging. His face was now only inches from mine, his features radiating a cool indifference. His dark eyes, though supposedly unseeing, felt intensely focused, filled with a dangerous pressure. “But we’re already married,” he stated simply. He straightened up, reaching out as if to pat my head. I flinched away. “So what? We can get a divorce!” “But your father’s company needs the capital.” I froze. Right. If I went back now, the house, the cars—everything would be gone. I’d be in debt for the rest of my life. A shudder ran through me. My expression changed in an instant. “Oh! I was just kidding! Of course I’m happy to marry you! I mean… you’re so—” Rich. The word echoed silently in my head. Fine. Whatever. It was just a marriage. A husband I didn’t have to do anything for. Once my dad’s company was back on its feet, I could just leave. It was a perfect plan. I stopped struggling and flashed Adrian a brilliant smile. “Well then… hubby.” His entire body went rigid. “Don’t… call me that.” “Oh?” I leaned into it. “Hubby, hubby, hubby!” Then an idea struck me. “Since this is just a business arrangement, we need some ground rules. Rule number one: you can’t touch me. I get the bed, you get the couch!” “We have guest rooms,” Adrian said, rubbing his temples with a hint of weariness. “Then you sleep in a guest room!” 3 I woke up the next morning to find Adrian already gone, presumably to the office. So dedicated, even though he’s blind. How does he even work? As I was pondering this, I realized I was hot. The thermostat read 102 degrees. I searched everywhere for the remote. Where was it? “Hey Siri! Turn on the A/C!” Silence. “Alexa! Turn on the A/C!” Still nothing. Furious, I tore off all my clothes in a fit of frustration and flopped onto the sofa, falling back asleep. I was dead to the world when the front door suddenly opened. The familiar footsteps approached. I jolted awake. “Wait! Don’t turn on the lights! I’m not wearing anything!” All I had on was my underwear. Too late. Click. The lights flashed on. Adrian stood in the doorway, his gaze unfocused. Oh, right. I forgot. He can’t see. Heh. Relaxed, I sank back onto the couch. “You’re back. Good, hurry up and make dinner. I’m starving.” “You haven’t eaten all day?” For some reason, Adrian seemed… uncomfortable. His eyes darted away from me. He can’t see, and he’s still this shy? I decided to tease him. I padded barefoot across the floor and stood right in front of him, my body almost brushing against his. “Hubby, do you think I’m beautiful?” I took his hand and placed it on my waist. Adrian’s pupils constricted. A dark blush crept up his neck and flooded his face. “Beau… beautiful,” he stammered, turning his head away. “Tch. What’s the point? You can’t even see,” I said, disappointed, and turned to leave. Adrian’s confused voice followed me. “Can’t see? Who told you I can’t—” He stopped himself. “Right. The car accident. I’m blind.” “Well, you should get that fixed,” I called over my shoulder as I headed upstairs for a shower. After my shower, I was about to put on a robe, but then I remembered: no security cameras, and a husband who couldn’t see. Why bother? Sleeping naked was just too comfortable. Oh! Right! I pattered back downstairs and found Adrian sitting on the sofa. “Turn on the AC, I can’t figure it out. I’m dying of heat.” No reply. I looked down and saw him sitting there, perfectly still, the tips of his ears bright red. His head was bowed, his gaze fixed on the floor. “Did you hear me?” I reached out to grab his collar. Suddenly, a trickle of dark red blood dripped from his nose. ? 【Should I tell my wife I can actually see again?】 Wait. Who was that? Adrian? What did he just say? No, his lips didn’t move. I frowned, confused. 【But God, her waist looks so damn soft.】 【I wonder what it would feel like to hold…】 ? Am I hearing Adrian’s thoughts? 【Her legs are so long.】 【I wonder what they’d feel like wrapped around my shoulders…】

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My brother gave me away to Michael Moy, a titan of the city’s elite. By day, I was his pet snake. By night, I would crawl into his bed and desperately siphon the vitality he radiated, all to fuel my transformation. It was then that I started seeing the comments. Text, floating in my vision. [Where is this pathetic snake even coiling? Does she have any idea what she’s doing? Move over, I’ll show you how it’s done.] [It’s fine. The male lead gives her to the female lead at her birthday party anyway. The nasty snake gets dropped and dies by accident. Serves her right.] [And her brother tries to get revenge on the female lead, but the male lead just has him barbecued and feeds him to the dogs.] A shudder of pure terror made my body constrict. On the bed, the sleeping Michael Moy let out a sudden, muffled groan. 1. After my brother, Silas, successfully took human form, he brought me—still a simple snake—to the heart of the city. “I’ve found you a man with pure life force, a perfect vessel,” he told me. “Stick with him for a while, and I guarantee you’ll have your human form in no time.” “Once you’ve transformed,” he added, “sneak out during the night. I’ll be waiting for you at the gates of his estate.” And just like that, I was gifted to Michael Moy. The problem was, he was almost never home. I had to wait for the housekeeper to be distracted before I could slip out of my enclosure. I’d slither into his walk-in closet and absorb the lingering traces of his vitality from his clothes. But most of them were laundered, the potent energy washed out until only a faint whisper remained. It was barely enough to be considered a snack, leaving me feeling hollow and unsatisfied. A week later, I’d drained nearly every garment in his closet dry. I managed to shed my skin once—a meager step forward. To achieve human form, I needed to shed my skin a hundred times over. Just as I was sinking into despair, Michael Moy returned. He wore a tailored suit that sharpened the already severe lines of his face, giving him an aura of untouchable authority. An invisible wall of ice seemed to emanate from him, warning everyone to keep their distance. But to me? He was a walking feast. His entire being radiated a raw, intoxicating vitality that made my mouth water. His cold gaze fell upon me. His brow furrowed slightly as he spoke to a nearby maid, his voice a blade of ice. “Is this snake an idiot? It’s drooling.” I wasn’t even listening. I was completely captivated. I flicked my tongue out in a gesture of what I hoped was charming subservience. He barely glanced at me before striding away to his study. 2. His time at home was precious. I couldn’t afford to waste a single opportunity. The moment the housekeeper’s back was turned, I expertly slipped out of my glass tank. I followed the magnetic pull of Michael’s life force to the door of his study. He was at his desk, engrossed in his work, completely oblivious to my presence. His discarded suit jacket lay on the floor. I darted towards it, greedily drinking in the energy clinging to the fabric. An unwashed garment, fresh off his body, was a hundred times more potent than the sterile clothes in his closet. His scent filled my senses, a heady mix of expensive cologne and pure, masculine warmth. I was so overwhelmed with pleasure that I began to roll around on the jacket. Suddenly, the jacket was yanked away. Michael was staring down at me, his expression unreadable. “How did you get out?” I coiled into a tight, small ball, tucking my head beneath my body in a futile attempt to become invisible. He watched me with the kind of look one gives a particularly stupid animal, then pinched me between two fingers and lifted me from the floor. As he carried me back downstairs to my tank, the warmth of his skin against mine was electrifying. I took the chance to draw in as much of his energy as I could, gulping it down in greedy mouthfuls. When he placed me back inside the glass enclosure, I couldn’t resist a final, lingering lick of his fingers. Michael stared at the spot I had touched. His brow furrowed in disgust as he pulled a silk pocket square from his jacket and meticulously wiped his hand clean. I was so infuriated by the gesture that I spun around in my tank three times. What was that supposed to mean? Was I… repulsive to him? 3. Late that night, I escaped again and slithered into Michael’s bedroom. To my surprise, he was still awake, shrugging off his shirt to reveal a landscape of hard, sculpted muscle. I froze in the doorway, a wave of heat washing over me. The primal urge to surge forward, to wrap myself around him and drink my fill, was nearly overwhelming. But I restrained myself. For the long game, for a steady supply of his vitality, I had to be patient. He padded toward the bathroom. The moment the door clicked shut, I scurried into the room, making a beeline for his discarded underwear. The energy here was explosive, several times more powerful than his suit jacket. I lost myself in it, drunk on the sheer potency, completely forgetting that I was supposed to be hiding. “What are you doing?!” I snapped back to reality and looked up. Michael was standing there, fresh from the shower, his voice a cocktail of shock and fury. Panicked, I clamped his underwear on my head and made a run for it. He chased right after me, relentless. The fabric blinded me, and I slammed headfirst into a wall, dazed and confused. He snatched his underwear back and held me up. “What the hell are you doing, sneaking into my room to steal my briefs?” I went limp, playing dead. He chuckled, a low, humorless sound. “Dead? Perfect. I could use a little midnight snack. Ever tried grilled snake?” I immediately sprang back to life, flicking my tongue at him twice and nudging my head against his hand in a plea for forgiveness. He paused, a flicker of surprise in his eyes, before another, softer laugh escaped him. “I haven’t given you a name yet, have I? How about… Cleo?” As he spoke, he carried me back to my tank, this time placing a heavy vase on the lid to seal my fate. Before he left, he leaned down. “Be a good girl, Cleo. Stay put.” 4. Michael stayed home for a single day before leaving on another business trip. This time, he was gone for a month. In that month, I managed to shed my skin four times. By the time he returned, I was starving, desperate for another taste of his vitality. The moment he walked through the door, I threw all caution to the wind and launched myself at him. He froze for a fraction of a second, stunned. It was all the time I needed. I had already coiled around his ankle, my body a living vine scaling his leg, frantically absorbing his energy. His entire body went rigid. When he finally snapped out of his shock, he pried me off his leg, his voice tight with annoyance. “Cleo! What has gotten into you?!” Ignoring him, I used the momentum to wrap myself around his wrist, my tongue darting out to lick the back of his hand. His jaw tightened. The housekeeper rushed over, gently but firmly removing me from his arm and placing me back in my tank. The brief contact had restored some of my strength, but it wasn’t enough. I needed more. Even with the heavy vase weighing down the lid, I rammed my head against it again and again until it shifted, creating a gap just wide enough for me to squeeze through. After a moment’s rest, I made a beeline for his room. He was soaking in the bathtub, his head tilted back, his eyes closed. Emboldened, I crept closer to the hand he had draped over the edge of the tub. His fingers were long and elegant, the knuckles well-defined. Tentatively, I licked one. No reaction. I coiled around his finger and began to climb his arm. Still nothing. I pressed on, slithering up to his shoulder. The steam rising from the hot water was uncomfortable, a suffocating blanket of heat, but the prize was too close to abandon. I navigated the column of his neck, my gaze fixed on his lips. That intoxicating heat flared inside me again. I began to lick them, a frantic, desperate tasting. I no longer cared if he woke up. The simple touch wasn’t enough. I wanted to bite him. After a moment of deliberation, I did. I sank my fangs into his lower lip. Michael’s eyes fluttered open. He captured my head in his hand, his gaze hazy with sleep. “Licking is one thing,” he murmured, his voice thick and drowsy, “but biting? That’s new.” I saw the two tiny red dots on his lip and felt a strange pang of guilt. It wasn’t my fault he was so delicious. “You little deviant,” he scolded softly. “Aren’t you afraid of being boiled alive in here just for a taste?” I nudged his hand with my head. He watched me for a long moment, then a slow smile spread across his face. “Wrap around my hand.” Michael rose from the tub, wrapped a towel around his waist, and carried me downstairs. Back in the tank I went. This time, I didn’t fight it. I was full, content, and I drifted into a deep, satisfying sleep. 5. Michael was gone for another month. But that last encounter had been so potent that I shed my skin a full fourteen times while he was away. When he returned, I was so deep in slumber I didn’t even notice him approach my tank. He tapped on the glass, jolting me from a pleasant dream. I blinked my eyes open, disoriented. He reached in and lifted me out. “What’s this?” he asked, a note of displeasure in his voice. “Forgotten all about me after just a month? Last time you practically threw yourself at me. Now you can’t even be bothered to wake up.” I didn’t understand what he was talking about. Instinct took over. I wrapped myself around his wrist and began to lap at the back of his hand. He stroked my head with his other hand. “Did you miss me this month?” I ignored the question, focusing on the slow, steady intake of his intoxicating energy. He carried me upstairs with him, but paused at the bathroom door, placing me on the bed. “You are not allowed in here,” he warned, his voice firm. “That water will cook you alive. You wait here, understand?” I nodded my head fearfully. But the moment he stepped inside, I followed him, peeking my head around the doorframe. He turned and fixed me with a stern look. “Cleo. Out.” I pretended to retreat, then waited a moment before poking my head back through the gap. Michael tilted his head, a wry smile playing on his lips. “I knew you’d try again.” Feeling guilty, I withdrew and slithered back to the bed. When he emerged from the bathroom, he lay down beside me. I immediately crawled onto the hard plane of his abdomen. He closed his eyes, allowing me to lick the taut skin. His voice, when he finally spoke, was a raw, husky whisper. “Cleo… a little lower.” I obeyed, moving downward. I coiled around him. The fire inside me roared to life. 6. Michael’s frantic schedule seemed to ease. He started coming home every night, sometimes even working from the mansion during the day. After that first night, I shed ten skins in a single day. So it became our routine. Every night, after he fell asleep, I would slip into his room, crawl onto his bed, and drink my fill of his vitality. Until the day the comments appeared again. [Is this not supposed to be a PG story? Where the hell did this scene come from?] [A snake… oh god, I can’t handle this!] [When did the male lead develop this… particular fetish?!] [Suddenly I want to buy a snake.] [I can’t watch anymore. Thank god he gives her to the female lead at the birthday party. The evil snake gets dropped and dies. Finally.] [And her brother comes for revenge, only to be grilled by the male lead and fed to the dogs.] My body tightened involuntarily. The sleeping Michael let out a sharp hiss of breath. I froze, terrified. But he seemed to settle again, his breathing evening out, though a flush had crept up his cheeks. I started to pull away, my mind still reeling from the prophetic text. Suddenly, Michael’s eyes opened. He looked straight at me. “Why’d you stop?” The thought of him giving me away, of him cooking my brother, erased every other thought from my mind. In a surge of pure fury, I lunged forward and bit his finger. He hissed in pain but didn’t shake me off. Instead, his voice was surprisingly gentle. “Who upset you?” He stroked my head with his thumb. “Let go when you’re tired of biting, Cleo.” And I was tired. I released his finger. According to my count, I only needed to shed my skin about twenty more times to achieve my human form. The comments said the female lead’s birthday was in two days. If I could complete my transformation in that time, I could escape. I wouldn’t be given away. My brother wouldn’t be harmed. Fueled by a new, desperate anger, I slithered back to my original position and coiled around him once more. Michael just smiled and settled back against the pillows. 7. The next day, the doorbell rang. A young woman with her hair in a messy bun bounced into the house. She linked her arm through Michael’s, her voice a sugary pout. “Uncle Michael, my birthday is coming up! What are you getting me?” Michael’s eyes never left the document in his hand. “You’ll find out when the time comes.” She beamed. “Your gift is always the one I look forward to the most.” He finally set the file aside and offered her a faint smile. “Lily, if you have nothing better to do, you should probably head home. I’m quite busy.” I watched them from my tank, my head raised. Lily just huffed playfully and began to wander around the room. Her gaze landed on me. “Uncle, what a beautiful snake! Is she my birthday present?” Michael walked over, moving her hand away from my enclosure. His voice was cold. “No.” [He’s such a terrible liar. This was obviously the gift he got for her.] [He probably wanted it to be a surprise, and now that she’s found out, he’s playing coy.] [It fits his character perfectly. He’s cold and aloof on the outside, but madly in love on the inside.] [Totally. He tells her to go home, but he’s secretly thrilled she’s here.] [And when she actually leaves, he’ll be miserable. I live for this trope.] So this was her. The one who would kill me. I stared at her, my gaze hardening. Murderer. Lily frowned, clearly annoyed. “Can I at least pet her?” “No,” Michael said flatly. “She bites.” She crossed her arms. “Well, if you don’t let me, I’m just going to stay here all day!” Michael’s brow twitched in irritation. After a moment’s thought, he reached into the tank and lifted me out. There was no way I was letting my killer touch me. I shot up Michael’s arm and burrowed under his shirt. His muscles clenched. He reached into his shirt, pulled me out, and carried me back to his room. He tapped my head lightly. “Next time, you are not to crawl into my clothes in front of other people. Understood?” He then added, “And you are not to crawl into anyone else’s clothes but mine. Ever. Got it?” I went limp, playing dead. Sorry, no speak English. He scooped me up. “Cleo, if you don’t behave, you won’t be sleeping with me tonight.” But I needed to shed my skin, and time was running out. I instantly perked up, nudging his hand affectionately. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. “That’s more like it.” A knock came from the bedroom door. It was Lily. “Uncle Michael? Are you okay in there? That snake is so disobedient. Maybe you should just get rid of it.” Michael, still holding me, opened the door. “Are you ready to leave now? Or should I call your father to come pick you up?” Lily glared at him, then spun on her heel and stormed out. [Classic male lead. Pushing away the woman he loves. He’s going to spend ages trying to win her back after this.] [It’s okay, he’ll show up at her birthday party with the snake as a peace offering.] 8. That night, I resumed my usual position, coiled around him. The silence of the room amplified every sound, every shift, every soft breath. Michael’s voice was a low growl in the darkness. “Tighter, Cleo.” I constricted, my cool body slowly heating until it felt like I was burning from the inside out. It was a strange agony, both painful and exquisitely pleasurable. Two hours later, I couldn’t take the intensity anymore. I uncoiled and slithered away, collapsing in a corner of the room. I felt like I was melting. My skin began to peel away, layer after layer. I don’t know when he moved, but suddenly Michael was there, crouching in front of me. He reached out a hand, his touch gentle. “Cleo, why are you so hot?” He watched me, his thumb stroking my new skin. “Shedding again,” he murmured. “It seems you’re getting close.” He placed me back in my tank. I fell into a hazy, disoriented sleep. When I awoke, I felt… different. Bigger. I pushed my way out of the tank. And there they were. Four limbs. After another period of strange, rapid metamorphosis, I was finally, fully human. I stumbled to a full-length mirror and stared at the reflection. A woman with pale, delicate skin stared back, though patches of iridescent blue scales still clung to her body like jewels. 9. As I was examining my new form, I heard footsteps from upstairs. Panicked, I shifted back into my snake form and scrambled into the glass tank just as Michael appeared. He walked over to the tank and reached inside, stroking my body. “Your fever’s gone down.” He lifted me out and carried me toward the bedroom. He placed me on his abdomen and rested his hand over me. I waited until his breathing was deep and even, then carefully wriggled free and made my way to the window. It was only then that I realized it was shut. Taking a deep breath, I transformed back into a human. As my fingers touched the latch, a cold voice sliced through the silence from behind me. “And where do you think you’re going, Cleo?”

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After the car crash, I woke up somewhere else. The ridiculous part? I’d been picked up by a dragon. And he was keeping me as a pet. The Dragon: “Shake.” I lifted my left paw. “The right one.” I lifted my right paw. “Sit.” “Spin.” “Roll over.” Me: The hell with this! I’m done playing games! 1 The world I’d woken up in was like my own, only scaled up a hundred times over. To the dragon, I was tiny, no bigger than his palm, like a chipmunk to a human. Right now, he was placing a baked sweet potato—a sweet potato that was taller and wider than I was—into the little nest he’d just made for me out of a cardboard box. The dragon had crimson eyes with vertical, cat-like pupils. His body was covered in deep black scales, and when he opened his mouth even slightly, I could see the glint of razor-sharp fangs. When we first met, he’d dispatched two rats that were trying to drag me into their hole with a single swipe of his claws. He looked ferocious, brimming with a savage energy, but now he was just gazing at me eagerly, his ears adorably drooped. I guessed he wanted me to accept his offering. Alright, fine. Seeing as he saved my life and I was so hungry my stomach was practically glued to my spine, I decided to give the giant sweet potato a try. Other than its absurd size, it looked just like any other sweet potato. Steam was still rising from its orange flesh. I reached out a tentative finger to touch it. Hiss! It was scalding hot! I snatched my hand back with a yelp. The dragon tilted his head, blinking his huge eyes at me as if to ask, You don’t like it? He gently stroked my head with one of his massive fingers. A series of deep, guttural sounds rumbled from his chest. “Grrr-oof… whoosh… whoosh…” Me: “?” Forgive me, but I don’t speak Dragon. The dragon fell silent for a moment, then his eyes lit up with sudden understanding. He puckered his big dragon lips and blew a stream of air at the sweet potato. The force of his breath was so strong it knocked me flat on my butt, sending my hair whipping around my face. I was pretty sure my hairline receded a bit. He pinched the back of my collar between his thumb and forefinger and lifted me to my feet. Then, he produced a small spoon, scooped out a piece of the sweet potato, and held it out to me. I took a bite right from the spoon. It was sweet, not much different from the ones back home. “Rrrrrumble…” A strange purring sound came from above me. I looked up to see the dragon’s eyes curved into two happy crescents. He was smiling. In the next second, a cold, robotic voice exploded in my mind. [Ding! Kael’s Affection +1.] [Host, please continue your efforts. When the target’s Affection reaches its maximum value, a hidden quest will be triggered. Completion of the hidden quest will allow the Host to return to their original world and grant one wish.] I froze for a second before my brain caught up. A system? I had a system? A spark of joy ignited in my chest. There was a way home! But wait… who was Kael? This dragon? As I was pondering this, the dragon scooped up another piece of sweet potato and offered it to me. To test my theory, I obediently ate it, then snuggled up and rubbed my cheek against his rough, scaly claw. His claw twitched slightly. And just as I’d hoped, the voice returned. [Ding! Kael’s Affection +2.] Yes! This dragon was my target, and from the looks of it, he was a total sweetheart. This was going to be a piece of cake! For the rest of the night, I put on my best performance as a cute, cuddly pet, showering him with affection. It worked like a charm. By the time I fell asleep in my little box-nest, Kael’s affection level was already at twenty. The next morning, I was woken by the sound of Kael moving around. I was still half-asleep when I felt a finger poke my head. “Awake, little one?” I nodded instinctively. “Mmm-hmm.” Then I froze. Who was talking to me? All sleepiness vanished. I shot upright and found myself staring at a lean, handsome face. The early morning sun cast a golden glow on the young man’s black hair. He was tall and slender, with a thin scar cutting through the tail of his eyebrow. His crimson eyes were strikingly familiar. Looking up, I saw two small dragon horns peeking out from his hair. The tip of the left one was slightly chipped. Just like the dragon’s. My heart skipped a beat. This had to be him. This was the dragon who had saved me. 2 I stared at Kael, and the corner of his mouth twitched into a faint smile. “Hungry?” he asked, his voice a deep, smooth rumble that sent a pleasant shiver down my spine as he packed his textbooks into a bag. “Baby birds chirp and open their beaks wide when they’re hungry, waiting for their mother to feed them,” he continued, a hint of amusement in his tone. “You look just like that right now.” He pulled open a drawer and took out a small, ornate tin box. Inside was a neat row of teddy bear-shaped cookies. He picked one out and placed it in my arms. “Can you eat this?” “Yes,” I said. But from the look on his face, it was clear he hadn’t understood a word. Just then, the system’s voice chimed in my head. [Host, Kael cannot understand you yet. Your ability to understand him is a reward for raising his Affection to 20 last night. You now have three options.] A menu materialized in front of me. Please select the sound you wish Kael to hear: A. Squeak Squeak B. Meow Meow C. Chirp Chirp Me: … I chose ‘A’. Then, under Kael’s expectant gaze, I took a big bite out of the cookie’s ear and let out a happy squeak to show my approval. To him, it must have sounded like: Squeak, squeak! [System: Keep up the good work, Host! Raising his Affection will unlock more vocalizations!] Me: … Like I need that. Kael seemed pleased. He smiled, told me to be a good girl and watch the house, and slung his bag over his shoulder, ready to leave. Wait, if he leaves, how am I supposed to raise his affection? And in this giant world, what if another rat—or a cat—shows up? I’d be eaten in a heartbeat! I started jumping up and down, squeaking frantically. “Squeak! Squeak-squeak!” (Don’t go! Don’t go!) Kael stopped and turned around. “What is it?” I quickly stretched my arms out in a “pick me up” gesture. He let out a soft, resigned sigh. As he walked back to the desk and held out his hand, I launched myself at him, wrapping my arms tightly around his thumb. “Squeak-squeak-squeak!” (Take me with you!) “You want to come?” I nodded furiously, gazing up at him with the biggest, most pleading eyes I could manage. He rubbed my head with his thumb. “I swear, I don’t know what to do with you.” With that, he carefully cupped me in his hand and tucked me into his front shirt pocket. It was warm and snug, right next to his heart. I could feel its strong, steady rhythm against my ear and the solid muscle of his chest beneath the thin fabric. This dragon was definitely in good shape. I couldn’t resist snuggling closer, nuzzling against him. “Happy now?” he murmured. In response, I gave his pectoral muscle a little pat. “Silly thing,” he said, his voice laced with affection. Me: … I guess that’s the dragon equivalent of calling a dog a “goofball”? It turned out Kael was heading to school. So, even dragons couldn’t escape the clutches of education. As he walked into the classroom, a yellow-haired dragon with red horns waved him over. “Kael! Over here!” The yellow-haired dragon was holding a bag of candy. Kael walked over. “Let me have one of those.” “Since when do you eat sweets, man? I thought you hated sugary stuff.” “It’s for my pet.” 3 Kael unwrapped a piece of orange hard candy and lowered it into his pocket for me. I held out my hands to take it, making sure to rub my cheek against his fingertips. They were cool to the touch and smelled faintly of tobacco. He let out a low chuckle. “You sure know how to charm a dragon, little one.” And right on cue: [Ding! Kael’s Affection +1.] Wow, this dragon was way too easy to win over! I curled up in his pocket, gnawing on the basketball-sized candy, feeling pretty pleased with myself. That is, until I looked up and met a pair of yellow, vertical-slitted eyes staring right at me. They were uncomfortably close, and filled with a cold, calculating amusement, as if I were some fascinating new toy. I instinctively clutched Kael’s shirt. He must have sensed my fear, because he immediately placed a protective hand over the opening of his pocket. “Hey, what gives? Let me see,” came the voice of the yellow-haired dragon. “My pet is shy,” Kael replied smoothly. “She doesn’t like to be looked at.” Kael’s seat was in the back row by the window. The school was built into the side of a cliff, and through the clear glass, I could see the sprawling dragon city below. He was surprisingly attentive in class, a pair of glasses perched on his straight nose making him look quite scholarly. A simple black quill pen was held in his long, elegant fingers, scratching out words I couldn’t understand. “What are you looking at?” Kael’s deep voice rumbled above me. He used his thumb to nudge my head to the side. “You’re blocking my view.” I sat on the desk, smoothing my messy hair and giving him my best pout. “Bored? Looking for trouble?” he whispered. He pulled a tissue from his pocket and gently wiped my mouth. “You’ve got sticky candy all over your face. Just like the textbook said.” Me: ? What did the textbook say? As if reading my mind, Kael tapped his finger on a black-and-white illustration in his book. “Look. That’s you.” The drawing was a bit abstract, but I could make out a small… humanoid figure. “It says here,” Kael continued, “that Sprites are extremely small in stature, possess insufficient brain capacity, and are foolish and easily captured.” He paused, then delivered the final blow. “They can be used as… an Emergency Food Supply.” Me: ?! This garbage textbook is ruining my life! 4 The best sleep I’ve ever had has always been in a classroom. That hadn’t changed, even in a new world. The dragon teacher’s droning voice was like a lullaby, and the gloomy, rainy weather outside was perfect for a nap. Sitting cross-legged on the desk, I soon began to nod off. Just as I was about to topple over, I let out a little squeak of alarm. A large hand shot out and caught me. I snuggled into Kael’s warm palm, found a comfortable position, and hugged his thumb as a pillow, drifting off to sleep. I felt his thumb gently stroke my cheek. I protested with a sleepy squeak. (Stop that!) Through the haze of sleep, I heard him chuckle. “Hah. Quite the handful, aren’t you?” I slept right through until the final bell. They didn’t have classes in the afternoon. The yellow-haired dragon—I learned his name was Jax—leaned over as soon as class was dismissed. “Hey, Kael,” he said in a low, secretive voice, “you going to Old Duke’s place tonight?” Kael didn’t stop packing his books. “Not tonight,” he said dismissively. He flexed and rotated his left hand. “Hiss…” “What’s wrong?” Jax asked. “My hand’s asleep,” Kael said nonchalantly. “My emergency food supply was napping on it.” Jax: ? Me: ! After school, Kael didn’t head straight home. He stopped by the library and checked out a book titled: How to Raise Your Sprite to be Plump and Healthy. Plump and healthy… So I’d be more flavorful when he decided to eat me? I hung limply from his pocket, my will to live draining away as he scanned the pages with lightning speed. In the dead silence of the library, a series of loud gurgles and rumbles echoed through the room. Growl… gurgle… Mortified, I shrank deeper into his pocket, pressing my hands against my traitorous stomach, my face burning with shame. Several dragons looked up from their studies. Kael shot them a glare so ferocious it made them all duck their heads back down. Then, he reached up and gave the small, trembling lump in his front pocket a light smack. Right on my butt. 5 Beneath a sky thick with storm clouds, Kael unfurled his vast, night-black wings and dove off the cliff. I squeezed my eyes shut inside his pocket, my hands clutching his shirt for dear life. He flew with incredible speed, soaring past jagged rock formations and toward the heart of the city below. It was a hundred times more thrilling than any rollercoaster. By the time he landed and gently lifted me out of his pocket, I was completely disoriented, hanging limply from his fingers like a wet noodle. He pinched my cheeks between the thumb and forefinger of his other hand. “That’s all it takes to knock you out?” he teased. “The book was right. You’re incredibly fragile. Difficult to care for.” I managed to lift my head and give him a weak glare. “Fall in water, you die. Get bumped too hard, you die. Too cold, you die. Too hot, you die. Starve, you die. Eat too much, you die…” He ruffled my hair. “Useless, aren’t you?” I bit his finger. This dragon was so annoying! He was going to ruffle all my hair out! “Oh, feisty, are we?” he chuckled. “Keep biting and you won’t get any treats.” For the sake of food, I reluctantly let go. When he started to put me back in his pocket, I squeaked in protest. The space was too cramped. I pointed up at his head. He glanced at me, one eyebrow raised. “You want to sit up there?” I nodded eagerly. “Give you an inch and you take a mile.” I widened my eyes, giving him the most pathetic look I could muster. Kael: “…” “Fine. You win.” He lifted me onto the top of his head. “Hold on to my horns,” he warned. “If you fall, it’s not my problem.” His black hair was soft and fluffy, and the two small horns poking through were cool to the touch. It was a shame one of them was broken. The jagged edge felt rough under my fingers, and for some reason, it made my chest feel tight. Kael took me to a bakery in the city center. I could smell the sweet scent of baking bread from a block away. I tugged on his hair and pointed at a tray of freshly baked egg tarts. “Squeak-squeak!” (Those! Those!) “Squeak!” (And those!) He flicked my forehead with his finger. “I know, I know. What’s the rush?” After he paid, he tore off a small piece from a still-steaming loaf of bread and offered it to me. I was starving and reached for it, but just as my fingers were about to touch it, he pulled his hand back. I’d lunged with too much force and nearly tumbled off his head. He caught me with his other hand just in time. “Squeak!” I grumbled. (Why are you teasing me?!) But then Kael brought the piece of bread to his lips and blew on it gently. “It’s hot,” he said softly. “Let me cool it for you.” I froze. Why was it that this dragon, black as charcoal, suddenly seemed to be glowing?

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The moment I successfully completed my redemption task and was free to leave the world of the novel, the second male lead, Michael, confessed his love for me. I couldn’t bear the thought of him returning to the lonely, desolate life he’d lived before, so I chose to stay. We fell in love, a whirlwind romance just like any normal couple, and with everyone’s blessing, we walked toward the altar. Until our wedding day, when a girl crashed the ceremony. “Michael will betray you in the future! Don’t marry him!” she screamed. “Who are you?” Michael’s voice was firm, his eyes fixed on me, filled with nothing but adoration. “Allison and I are deeply in love. If you continue to spread these lies and ruin our wedding, don’t expect me to be polite.” The girl ignored him, her gaze locked on me, her eyes red-rimmed and desperate. “Mom,” she pleaded, “please, believe me… this man will not make you happy.” 1 Every guest in the hall froze. A few seconds later, the tense silence broke into a wave of poorly suppressed chuckles. I’m twenty-four. The girl looked like she had just turned eighteen. How could I possibly be her mother? But she seemed oblivious to the mocking stares, her eyes still fixed on me, pleading. “He won’t bring you happiness. He’ll only make you cry.” “He’ll tell you he’s busy with work on every holiday, but he’ll be spending them with someone else.” “He and that bitch, Samantha, have been tangled up for over a decade!” At the name “Samantha,” a chill ran down my spine. She was the original female lead of the novel, the woman Michael had been secretly in love with for years. How did this girl know about Samantha? “What nonsense are you talking about? I haven’t had any contact with her in years!” Michael’s voice was sharp, and he turned to me, his expression laced with anxiety. “Allison, don’t listen to her. We haven’t seen each other at all.” 2 Michael wasn’t lying. Samantha had moved abroad four years ago and had never come back. In those four years, our relationship had been wonderful. We had never once fought over the ghost of his past love. “I believe you,” I said. “Mom, he’s lying…” The hotel security finally arrived, unceremoniously hauling the girl out. “False alarm, everyone! Let’s continue, let’s continue!” “Now, where were we?” Friends and family raised their glasses, trying to salvage the atmosphere, but it was impossible. The floral arrangements were knocked over, the aisle was a mess, and the officiant, having never witnessed such a scene, stood there in a daze. The hotel manager came to apologize personally, offering to compensate us and reschedule the entire event. “What kind of security are you running here? You can’t even handle a teenage girl?” Michael’s face was dark, a rare flash of anger directed at someone other than me. Only after the manager left did his features soften. He rested his chin on my shoulder. “You’re not angry at all?” How could I not be? When the System had told me my task was complete, that I could go home, it also meant my story with Michael would end. 【You want to stay?】the System had asked. “Yes. Michael just confessed to me.” I’d always read fairy tales and imagined the prince and princess lived happily ever after. Now, someone had just crashed my own fairy tale to tell me the ending was a complete train wreck. My mind was a chaotic mess. That night, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. A pair of strong arms pulled me into an embrace. Michael, half-asleep, murmured as his hand moved down, finding my cold feet. “Did the cold wake you?” He expertly tucked my feet under his shirt to warm them, shivering himself from the chill but pulling me even tighter. Listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing, I just shook my head, trying to banish the chaotic thoughts from my mind. 3 Sensing my low spirits, Michael took charge of all the wedding arrangements. He told me to just relax and wait, promising he would give me the grand, once-in-a-lifetime ceremony I deserved. In the meantime, I went back to work. I didn’t expect to see the girl from the wedding—she’d called herself Thea—at the coffee shop downstairs from my office. I had wondered if she was a Tasker like me, but the System had been clear: there could only be one outsider in each book. Thea stared at me for a long time. “This is the first time I’ve seen you dressed like this.” It was just standard professional attire, but it seemed to trigger a flood of memories for her. “I’ve never seen you in heels. Your hair was always tied back in a bun, never down like this—it was inconvenient for housework.” “You never wore belted coats like that one. They’re too hard to maintain, and you never had anywhere to wear them.” Her gaze shifted to my wrist. “Your hands were always bare, except for a simple wedding band. You were devastated when you lost one earring, so you just wore plastic spacers to keep the holes from closing. Eventually, you got too busy and forgot even that. The piercings closed up.” I managed a small smile. “That won’t happen. I don’t like that kind of life.” “What is your life like now?” Although I was still an orphan in this world, the System had given me a proper identity. I had a history here—I went to college, pursued Michael, fell in love, and made friends. I had my own social circle, my own career, and I was about to start a family with the man I loved. “So I won’t end up like you described,” I said. “I’m very happy with my life right now. I love my job.” I picked up my bag to leave, but Thea grabbed the corner of my coat. “But what if you get pregnant?” 4 I froze, studying Thea’s face carefully for the first time. When she furrowed her brow, she looked so much like Michael. That night, Michael’s kisses trailed from my shoulders down to my waist, his touch a teasing fire through the fabric of my nightgown. The moment his fingers hooked the strap to pull it aside, I instinctively caught his hand. Michael smoothed my hair back, his lips moving to my ear. “I thought we agreed to just let nature take its course?” “If we have a child, who will take care of it? Will I have to quit my job? I’m up for a promotion right now, and I don’t want to miss this opportunity.” Michael stilled. After a long moment, he spoke. “Allison, you believed her, didn’t you?” I was taken aback. “Ever since that girl showed up, you haven’t been yourself. You believed what she said, that I would neglect our family, that I would be a bad husband to you.” I rubbed my temples. “If we let nature take its course, these are all things we have to consider.” Michael’s voice grew heavy. “She’s a complete stranger, Allison. But you’re already letting her words define our future.” In the darkness, I couldn’t see his expression. I lifted the covers and slipped into his arms, my face brushing against the stubble on his chin. He had been so busy, juggling work and replanning our wedding, that he hadn’t even had time to shave. But a sense of unease still plagued me through the night. I took a day off and went to the doctor. As I sat staring blankly at the test results, Thea appeared and sat down beside me. “My birthday is July 23rd,” she said softly. Nine months from now. The report in my hand confirmed I was already over a month pregnant. After we had decided to get married, we had stopped being careful. One of those times had planted this seed. “You compromised,” Thea said. “No,” I denied it instantly. “I have no intention of giving up my career.” Thea just looked at me. “That’s not what I’m talking about.” I froze, my mind flashing back to the night before, to the drawer I had opened and then closed. “You didn’t retreat all at once,” she whispered. “You gave ground, step by step.” 5 Looking at Thea, I was suddenly terrified of what she might say next. As I was leaving, she reached out and grabbed my arm again. “You still don’t believe me?” “We’re a couple about to get married. Getting pregnant is a perfectly normal thing.” As for what came after, we could work it out. It didn’t have to end up the way she described. “Give it two weeks,” Thea said, closing her eyes. “Decide whether you’ll tell him in two weeks.” I didn’t know what she meant by that. That night, Michael said something urgent had come up at the office and threw on his coat to leave. I followed him. His car didn’t go toward his office. It parked next to a restaurant. He sat alone for fifteen minutes before a familiar figure pushed through the door. Samantha. “It’s been a long time,” she said, extending a hand. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.” 6 I hadn’t seen her in four years, but she was just as the novel described her: pure, gentle, and graceful. I unconsciously crumpled the menu in my hands, watching Michael’s reaction. His expression was cold, distant. “I forgot to tell you,” he said, ignoring her outstretched hand. Samantha awkwardly retracted it and was about to sit down. “I’m getting married.” The words came out in a rush. Michael’s hand moved instinctively toward his pocket for a cigarette, then stopped as he remembered he was in a public place. He looked calm, but I knew him. That small, aborted movement was a sign of immense turmoil. “Married?” Samantha nodded. “I heard. To Allison, right?” “Yes.” Michael seemed agitated, as if he couldn’t bear to stay a second longer. “I have to go. There’s something at the office.” Samantha grabbed the hem of his coat, her expression wounded. “Michael, I know it’s probably too late for me to come back now. But… can’t we at least be friends? You helped me so much in the past… If it’s okay, could you just… walk with me for a bit?” 7 The moment the words were out, Samantha seemed to realize her mistake. She let go of his coat, stood up first, and mumbled an apology before walking out of the restaurant. Through the glass door, I saw her raise a hand to wipe away a tear. Michael hesitated, then his steps toward the exit seemed rushed, almost frantic. He pushed the door open, then stopped dead in his tracks. He turned back and asked the waiter for a pack of tissues. I couldn’t hear what he said through the glass. I only saw his hand, holding his coat, lift as if to drape it over her shoulders, then fall back to his side. He didn’t give her the coat, but he stood in front of her, shielding her from the wind. He couldn’t bring himself to refuse her. They walked down a familiar street, golden leaves scattered like lonely confetti on the cobblestones. Before Samantha left the country, this was the street where Michael would “accidentally” run into her every day. His bright eyes would dim the moment he saw the male lead walking beside her. And every time, I would be trailing behind, waiting for Michael to turn around. “Why are you turning back? You got all dressed up, even got a haircut, just to walk down this lane, didn’t you?” The teenage Michael was stunned at being found out. “It would be a shame to leave now,” I’d said. “The person I was waiting for stood me up, too. Why don’t we walk together?” “I wasn’t waiting for anyone,” he’d retort, but his ears would be burning red. “Okay, okay, you weren’t waiting. Consider it my invitation, then.” The truth was, I had also worn my favorite dress and a new hairclip. But just as Samantha never saw him, Michael never saw me. He refused my invitation, but that didn’t stop us from becoming partners in misery on that lonely lane. After it happened enough times, Michael finally snapped. He stopped and turned to me, his voice harsh. “I will wait for her. I am waiting for her. Stop wasting your time.” I looked him straight in the eye. “And I will wait for you.” Michael froze. And so did I. 8 The truth is, I had fallen for Michael long before the System brought me into this world. So when I was tasked with his redemption, I was ecstatic. Every day, my only thought was to make him a little happier, just a little bit more. The first time we walked down that lane together, we didn’t say a word. The second time, the third, the fourth… we finally started walking side by side. Then came holding hands, then kissing. We used the fallen leaves as our wedding confetti as he whispered his confession in my ear. He had faced so much disappointment. I wanted to fill every empty space, piece by piece. One day, I thought, he would finally see me. I would make him see only me. A dry twig snapped under my foot with a sharp crack— I came back to the present and stopped walking. Michael and Samantha were walking side by side, not speaking. He was just silently accompanying her down the entire length of the street. Their silhouettes blurred in my vision. 9 When Michael came home, he brought a box of raspberry mochi. I had once told him it was my favorite, but the private dessert shop that made it was in the next city over. He took off his coat and came over, his hands closing around my cold ankles. “Why are you standing barefoot on the floor again?” He gently put socks on my feet and tucked them into my fuzzy slippers. I looked down at his gentle face. “Where were you?” “I had a last-minute meeting.” “Do they sell this mochi in your conference room?” The air went still. Michael rubbed his brow. “What are you trying to say?” I just stared at him, not speaking. He seemed to grow irritated under my scrutinizing gaze. “How long are you going to let those baseless accusations make you paranoid?” My heart felt like it was being squeezed, a sour, painful ache spreading through my chest. “You didn’t meet with Samantha?” Michael froze, then his face filled with disbelief. “You followed me?” 10 He let out a long sigh. “She came back a few days ago. I only found out today. She was just catching up with old classmates, not just me.” “You should have told me.” “I was afraid you’d overthink it.” He reached for a cigarette again, then glanced at me and stopped. “Since you saw everything, you know we just met for a moment.” “Just met?” A bitter laugh escaped my throat. Michael’s brow furrowed. “Can you stop with the sarcasm? Did we kiss? Did we flirt? Did we sleep together?” No. None of that. Not even a touch of hands. To anyone else, it would look exactly like two old friends catching up. Nothing more. Was I being too possessive? Too petty? I had seen Michael with Samantha before, when his crush on her was at its peak, and I’d never felt like this. “But this is different.” “How is it different?” “How could you walk down that lane with me, and then walk down it with someone else?” “It’s just a street, Allison!” Just a street. Is that all? I waited on that street for him. For so, so long. Through wind and rain, thunder and scorching sun. I waited for so long just for him to finally turn around. And in his eyes, it was just an insignificant road he could walk down with anyone? “Then why did you wait on that street every single day back then?” Michael suddenly fell silent. “You understand, don’t you?” I whispered. “You were just like me.” He knew it was different. 11 I can’t remember the last time Michael and I gave each other the silent treatment. But this time, our friends were more anxious than we were. After the disastrous first wedding, they were all eagerly awaiting the second one, for a sense of finality. “He met with Samantha,” I told my best friend over the phone. There was a moment of silence on the other end, then a cautious, “What did they do?” I realized I didn’t know how to explain it. It seemed everyone would think it was just a walk, no big deal. That I was being overly sensitive. “That doesn’t seem like a huge deal, does it?” Her response was exactly what I’d expected. “If they walked together in broad daylight, doesn’t that prove they’ve really moved on? Allison, honestly, are you letting what that girl said get to you?” They told me to think about the good times. When it came to Michael and me, my friends were always full of stories. On Christmas Eve of our first year together, Michael took an overnight train just to bring me a single, perfect candied apple. To experience the first snow of winter with me, he stood outside my dorm for hours until I came down, bleary-eyed for my 8 AM class, and pulled me into his arms. “Michael? What are you doing here?” “You said so,” he’d murmured, repeating a message I’d sent him about an old saying—that to be covered in the same snow meant growing old together. Michael was clumsy with his hands, but because I loved embroidery, he learned to use a needle, often pricking his fingers until they bled. He even designed and hand-embroidered my wedding shoes, staying up for nights on end, nearly exhausting himself into a stupor. When my friends recounted these memories, their faces would light up, as if it all happened yesterday. They were right. We had so much history. They just met once after four years and took a walk. It didn’t mean he didn’t love me. 12 I recounted these stories to Thea, my voice bright and animated. “Did you know? That winter, he stood in the snow for—” “For hours, just to see the first snow with you,” Thea interrupted, finishing my sentence. “He also used to go to the next city over to buy you your favorite raspberry mochi. And he knitted you both matching scarves. You were once sharing one while walking down the street and almost got hit by a car. He held you so tight and rolled with you to the curb to save you.” She spoke with such familiarity, as if someone had told her these stories a thousand times. I stopped, taking a sip of coffee. “We were happy after we got married, weren’t we?” Thea suddenly went quiet. It was the first time I’d seen her so silent. “You always use these stories to prove to me that you were in love,” she said softly. “But Mom, how can a person live their whole life on memories?” “If you were really so in love, why did you have to keep telling these stories?” I realized my hand, holding the coffee cup, was trembling. I gripped the spoon tightly and stirred. “Them meeting… did I tell you about that, too?” Thea shook her head. “You never said a bad word about him in front of me.” She wrote a string of characters on a napkin and slid it across the table. “I saw it here.”

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It was our seventh time filing for divorce. An hour later, wedding photos of my husband and his young assistant appeared on my feed. Her hand was intertwined with his, showcasing his elegant fingers. The caption read: Legally, logically, lovingly yours. I clicked his profile—the first “like”—and instantly blocked him. His frantic call came moments later. I ignored it. He seemed to vanish. Days later, he called again: “Withdraw the divorce, Aurora. Come home.” His voice trembled. “Your daughter and I… we’ve missed you.” I laughed bitterly. Missed me? He’d flown his assistant to New Zealand for orcas, then to Norway for Northern Lights—all documented in a hundred boastful posts. I stayed silent, switched to speaker, and playfully pinched the bare chest of the man in front of me. He groaned sharply. The silence grew heavy. “Who was that?” My husband Karl’s voice turned tense, teeth gritted. “Where’s my wife?” 1 The man holding me chuckled softly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear before ending the call and walking out the door. Half an hour later, my front door was kicked open. Karl stormed in, his eyes wild with panic. He grabbed my hands, pulling me up and spinning me around, his gaze frantically checking every inch of me. Only when he was satisfied that I was unharmed did he let out a shuddering breath and pull me into a bone-crushing hug. “Aurora, I missed you,” he whispered, his eyes red-rimmed as he nuzzled his chin against my shoulder. “Are you mad at me? I’m sorry, I’ll never do it again. Just… don’t use some other guy to make me jealous.” Listening to his heartfelt confession, I couldn’t help but smile. “He’s not a prop, Karl.” His own smile froze on his face. My voice was light, almost cheerful. “We’re divorced. I have no reason to make you jealous.” Karl let out a forced laugh, his posture immediately relaxing. “Oh, you’re still hung up on that? Don’t be mad, baby. She’s just a colleague. I didn’t do anything to betray you.” “Look,” he said, pulling a small box from his pocket. “To make up for this whole divorce mess, I’ll propose to you all over again. You know how we are—we fight, we make up. Just forgive me one more time.” The box opened to reveal a delicate DR necklace. “I got this for you on my business trip.” My gaze fell to his left ring finger. A faint, pale line circled the base—the unmistakable mark of a ring worn for a long time. We never exchanged wedding rings; he’d claimed it was unprofessional for the office. That, combined with this sudden, out-of-place necklace, made it painfully obvious who he’d been wearing a ring for. Just then, my daughter burst through the door and threw her arms around my waist. She opened her small hand to reveal a lifelike butterfly hairpin. “Don’t be mad anymore, okay? The little butterfly is saying sorry to you.” I took the hairpin and clipped it into my hair. The cold, sharp words I’d been about to say died on my lips. You can’t stay angry at your own child. BOOM! The sudden crack of fireworks made me jump. Karl grabbed my hand and led me outside. A swarm of 999 drones, arranged in the shape of a massive heart, was gliding toward our house. As they hovered over our lawn, they shifted formation, spelling out my name. AURORA, HAPPY 10TH ANNIVERSARY. My daughter looked up at me, her eyes shining with hope. Karl’s smile was as gentle and intoxicating as it was the night he’d laid out 999 candles and asked me to be his girl. It was cheesy. But it was dazzling. Passersby stopped to gasp and applaud. “Now that’s how you do it, kid! So romantic!” someone shouted. “Kiss her! Kiss her! Kiss her!” a group chanted. I stared into Karl’s eyes, saying nothing. He bit his lower lip softly and leaned in, aiming for my cheek. At that exact moment, a pair of blinding headlights flooded my face, and the sound of a woman’s heartbroken sobs cut through the air. 2 Katie teetered toward us on impossibly high heels, her eyes brimming with tears as she stared at Karl. “We just took our wedding photos, and you’re already cheating on me, Karl? You said you would only love me for the rest of your life! You lied to me! I’m just going to go kill myself!” With a dramatic cry, she ran towards a tree on the curb, only to collapse theatrically into Karl’s waiting arms. She pounded weakly on his chest. “You’re a bastard, Karl! If you’re going to break my heart, just let me die!” My daughter ran over to her, gently wiping away her fake tears. “Don’t cry, Mommy,” she cooed. “Daddy and I only love you.” In an instant, the curious glances from the crowd turned into sharp, judgmental glares aimed directly at me. “So, she’s the other woman?” “Obviously. They have a child together. I can’t believe she has the nerve to seduce a married man.” I opened my mouth to explain, but Karl cut me off, his brow furrowed with annoyance. “You should go, Aurora. I can’t do this to Katie.” My daughter then reached up and yanked the hairpin from my head, tearing out a fistful of my hair with it. She snatched the necklace box from my hand. “Did you really think this was for you? Daddy and I got these presents for Mommy.” It had only been a month, and my daughter was already calling Katie ‘Mommy.’ Karl shot me a triumphant smirk before turning and dropping to one knee in front of Katie. “I kept feeling like I still owed you something. Perhaps… it was this ring.” He produced another box, this one containing a massive diamond ring. My daughter clipped the butterfly hairpin into Katie’s hair. “Mommy loves butterflies. I bought this especially for you.” Meanwhile, someone in the crowd was live-streaming. The hashtag #EpicLoveStory was trending. [He and their daughter love her so much! She’s the real winner here!] [OMG, is that a two-carat diamond? I think that’s the ‘Heart of the Ocean’ ring! It took the designer three years to make, it’s worth over a hundred million, and it’s the only one in the world!] Basking in the crowd’s adoration, Katie shot me a look of pure contempt and melted into Karl’s embrace. He scooped her up with one arm, took our daughter’s hand with the other, and walked away. I just stood there, silently taking screenshots of all of Katie’s Instagram posts before blocking and deleting them both. I had no time to be a player in their pathetic little soap opera. 3 A few minutes later, a video call came through from my new boyfriend, Julian. “Aurora, I’ve just wrapped things up at the office. I’m on my way back now. Want me to pick up some late-night snacks?” I thought for a moment. “No, that’s okay. I don’t have much of an appetite.” His expression immediately turned serious. “What’s wrong? Did that man from this afternoon bother you? He… he didn’t do anything to you, did he?” He tried to sound casual, turning his head away, but the way he bit his lip betrayed his concern. I shook my head, a small smile touching my lips. “Don’t be silly. It’s just the heat. And from now on, don’t answer calls from unknown numbers. It’s always spam.” When Julian got home, he found the living room empty and rushed into the bedroom, looking panicked. He visibly relaxed when he saw me packing a suitcase. “I thought we weren’t leaving for another month. Why are you packing already?” I smiled and gave him a quick hug before returning to my task. “I changed the flight. We leave in three days. We can get there early and do some sightseeing.” There was nothing left for me here. Just one last piece of business to take care of, and I could leave this all behind. The next morning, I arrived at the auction hall. My parents had gone missing during a round-the-world trip years ago. An island up for bid today held the only clue I’d managed to find about their disappearance. I hadn’t even reached my seat when a stiletto shot out, tripping me. I stumbled and fell to the floor. Katie let out a snort of laughter. “Seriously, Aurora? I know your daughter calls me ‘Mom’ now, but you don’t have to bow to me.” She tutted. “You’re so much older than me. I’m worried this will shorten my lifespan.” Despite her words, she didn’t walk away. Instead, she had one of her friends help me up. “You’re so good at playing the victim,” Katie cooed. “If I were a man, I’d probably fall for it. Too bad for you, Karl is completely devoted to me.” I brushed her friend’s hand away. “Does it feel good being a homewrecker? You must be enjoying it, judging by that smile.” Her smile vanished. “You’ve got a sharp tongue. Let’s see if you’re still smiling in a few minutes.” I assumed she was talking about Karl and shrugged it off. Why would I care about a man who had already cheated on me? But when the bidding for the island began, one of Karl’s employees took the stage and began presenting my proposal. My bid, my research, my entire plan—it had been stolen. I stared at Karl in disbelief. He flinched and looked away, unable to meet my eyes. I had poured my heart and soul into that proposal, working sleepless nights for a month, all for the chance to get access to that island and investigate my parents’ last known location. I never thought he would do this to me, not even for Katie. Katie tilted her head, pointing to the presentation on the screen. “Isn’t it a great presentation, Aurora? This island is mine.” To get the answers I needed, I had no choice. I clenched my jaw and signaled my assistant. “Add another ten percent to our budget. I don’t care what it takes. We are winning that island.” Karl’s mouth opened as if he wanted to say something, to explain, but Katie tugged on his arm. “Karl, you promised you would give this island to me. How can you let Aurora use your money to steal it?” A bitter laugh escaped me. So, after all the years we’d spent building our company from nothing, in everyone else’s eyes, I was just a freeloader living off his success. I was about to tell Karl that I would fight him to the end for this, but he suddenly stopped Katie. “Why are we fighting over a deserted island? I have a much better gift for you, my love.” 4 After my employee presented our revised, much higher bid, the auction organizers smiled with approval. Seeing her chances evaporate, Katie burst into tears and fled the room. Karl shot me a dark look before following her. I frowned, wondering what new drama they were cooking up. Their malicious bidding war had already forced me to sell off all my company shares to cover the cost. Just before the auction concluded, Katie returned, wrapped in Karl’s arms. She gave me a cryptic, triumphant smile. As I was leaving the venue, I noticed people pointing and whispering. Snippets of ugly rumors reached my ears, souring my victory. Just as I reached the exit, a woman stormed up to me and blocked my path. “Are you the one sending nude photos to my husband?” Before I could react, she slapped me across the face, sending me sprawling to the ground. “Can’t you go one day without a man, you slut? Sending him videos of you in lingerie, calling him ‘daddy’?” A crowd started to gather, including some of my own business partners. “Whoa, she sent them to me, too,” one of them snickered. “I had no idea Ms. Hayes was hiding all that under her business suits. Look at all those toys… she’s wild.” “Well, now we know how she kept Mr. Shaw wrapped around her finger for so long. She probably slept her way to the top. Can’t blame the guy, what man could resist that?” My head was spinning from the slap. I looked at the explicit images on the woman’s phone, and my blood ran cold. The woman in the video was wearing lingerie so sheer it was more provocative than being naked, drawing the eye to the most intimate parts of her body. I tried to explain, but someone threw a cup of coffee at me. The hot, sticky liquid streamed down my head, soaking my blouse. At the end of the video, my voice, breathy and seductive, echoed from the phone. The entire crowd fell silent, their eyes fixing on my coffee-stained lips.

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