Category: English

I got home late, exhausted and starving, shoveling cold pasta into my mouth when Alan spoke. “You look pathetic.” Jimmy chimed in from the living room. “Mom, you work hard, but you’ll never be like Miss Lily.” He walked over, disappointed. “The way you eat is ugly. You’re not feminine. You’re just a replaceable housekeeper. Miss Lily is graceful—you can’t compare.” I remembered Jimmy’s preschool conference—me in my wrinkled pantsuit, him sullen afterward. Now I knew why. He was ashamed of me. I tossed the leftovers and ordered expensive takeout. Then, a promotion email popped up—Head of European Division. The one I’d refused for years to be home for them. Not anymore. But when I finally let them have their perfect fantasy family, they didn’t celebrate. They fell apart. 1 A few hundred dollars’ worth of food arrived at our door. I unpacked it all, laying it out on the dining table—lobster, Wagyu steak, things I hadn’t let myself dream of since the wedding. Alan’s eyes widened. “Are you insane?!” he bellowed. “How many times have I told you we need to save money? There was perfectly good food in the fridge, and you go and blow our budget on this?” He sneered. “What, because I called you pathetic and Jimmy said you’re not as good as his teacher, you throw a tantrum with my credit card? We weren’t wrong! Now get away from the table. What kind of mother steals food from her own child?” I ignored him, savoring each bite of the meal I deserved. If I didn’t like something, I tossed it directly into the trash can, not even glancing at my son, who was staring at the feast with wide, hungry eyes. Jimmy, spoiled rotten by years of my indulgence, immediately began to wail. He charged the table, swiping his arm across it, sending hundreds of dollars of food crashing to the floor. Then he lunged at me, his sticky, sauce-covered hands grabbing at my clothes. “You’re a bad mommy! You’re not as good as Miss Lily! I don’t want you! I want Miss Lily to be my mom!” A year ago, those words would have shattered me. I would have done anything to win back his affection. But tonight, something inside me had finally clicked into place. I looked down at my expensive work trousers, now smeared with grease and grime, and without a second thought, I pushed him away. “Fine. Go ask Miss Lily to be your mother, then.” He stumbled and fell, his fake sobs turning into genuine shrieks of pain and shock. Alan rushed to scoop him up, cradling him protectively while glaring at me. “Sarah, what the hell is wrong with you? Taking your anger out on a child?” “This is how you act like a mother? No wonder he prefers his preschool teacher over you!” The words were like needles in my heart. These were the two people I had dedicated the last five years of my life to. The year Alan and I married, I was slated to lead the company’s expansion into Europe. It was my dream—to build an entire division from the ground up. But a month before my flight, Alan had been relentless, and on the day I was supposed to leave, I discovered I was pregnant. He convinced me to stay for the baby, promising he’d take care of us, that our family would be his world. So I stayed. I took a step back, refusing promotion after promotion for five years, all to make sure my husband and son had a hot, nutritious meal on the table every single night. Meanwhile, I ran myself ragged. Some nights, after a brutal shift, I’d come home to find they hadn’t even saved me any leftovers. I’d just drink a glass of cold water and chew on a stale piece of bread. And for all my sacrifice? In their eyes, I was no better than the hired help. They resented me for being too busy with work and home to look perfect, for becoming a frumpy housewife they were embarrassed by. They never once stopped to think about why I had become that way. I looked at Alan, my voice cold and steady. “Was I wrong? He’s the one screaming for Miss Lily to be his mother. Let him go find her. See if she wants him.” My detached tone seemed to enrage Alan even more. “Are you really going to hold a child’s words against him, Sarah? Fine! I’ll take him to Lily right now! You’re the one pushing us away. Don’t you dare regret this!” Seeing no flicker of protest in my eyes, he scoffed, grabbed his car keys, and stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him with our son in his arms. A moment later, I heard the roar of his engine as he peeled out of the driveway. I stood there for a beat, not an ounce of hesitation in me. Then I turned and walked straight to our bedroom to pack my bags. I was done. As I clicked the final latch on my suitcase, my phone rang. It was my boss, Sarah Evans, the one who had brought me into the company when it was just a startup. “Sarah?” she said, her voice serious. “This is it. The last spot for the European division. If you say no this time, there’s nothing more I can do for you. It’s now or never.” She had always believed in me, always wanted to pull me up into management with her. But for five years, I had chosen my family, letting her down time and time again. This was her last effort. I had to take it. “Thank you for everything, Sarah,” I said, my voice clear. “I’ll take the transfer.” There was a pause on the other end, followed by a burst of relieved laughter. “You finally came to your senses! When a woman loses herself in her family, Sarah, even her own husband and child stop seeing her value!” I managed a small smile. “Don’t worry. I’m ready to work.” 2 Alan transferred a couple thousand a month into a joint account for “household expenses.” It was never enough. The cost of raising a child, from diapers to an elite preschool, was astronomical. But he never saw that. He just thought I was sitting at home, living a life of leisure. My entire salary went to supporting him and Jimmy. The portion I kept for myself was laughable. Now, I was canceling orders for their new clothes, returning shoes I’d bought for them, and letting the utility bills sit unopened. Suddenly, my own salary felt like a fortune. I was finally learning the most important lesson: you can’t set yourself on fire to keep others warm. I opened my laptop and started reviewing the files Sarah had sent me. As I worked, a notification popped up. A new social media post from Lily. The picture was of her and Alan at a candlelit dinner. They were smiling at each other, a sweet, intimate moment. Jimmy was wedged between them, clutching their sleeves like they were already his real parents. It was a perfect portrait of a happy family. Her caption read: He just heard me mention I’d never had a candlelit dinner and poof! Mature men really know how to make a girl’s heart flutter! This is the romantic married life I’ve always dreamed of! With a husband and son like this, why would you ever want to go home? Nausea churned in my stomach. In five years of marriage, Alan and I had never once had a candlelit dinner. He always said things like that were “a silly waste of money for a married couple.” Apparently, it wasn’t the money. It was that he never thought I was worth it. Out of sight, out of mind. I blocked her number and all her social media accounts. A few days later, Sarah called again. The flight was booked for a week from today. I had to get everything in order. The work piled up, and I dove into it, grateful for the distraction. I spent three days at a downtown hotel. For three days, I had no contact with Alan. I thought it would be hard, that I would feel the gaping hole left by the life I had known for five years. But it wasn’t. Having time that was purely my own was… liberating. It was blissfully, beautifully quiet. I had an appointment with my lawyer that afternoon to discuss the divorce papers, but before I could leave, I got a call from the preschool. It was Jimmy’s main teacher, asking why I hadn’t shown up for the Family Sports Day. I’d never been told about it. And the person responsible for parent communications was, of course, Lily. I didn’t care about her petty games and was about to make an excuse, but then I remembered: the school always sent notifications to both legal guardians. I needed to go there one last time to officially remove my name and contact information from Jimmy’s file. I didn’t want to be bothered with these calls once I was on the other side of the ocean. “I’m on my way,” I told the teacher. 3 After the call, I asked my lawyer to draft a preliminary divorce agreement. I needed the paperwork to officially unbind myself as Jimmy’s contact at the school. After today, whatever happened to him there would no longer be my problem. By the time I arrived, the Sports Day was in full swing. Jimmy didn’t look like a boy who was missing his mother. He was bouncing with excitement, cheering at the top of his lungs. “Go, Dad! Go, Mom!” I was standing right here. Who was he calling “Mom”? I followed his gaze to the field and saw them. Alan and Lily, tangled together in a three-legged race. Their faces were flushed, their laughter echoing across the field, the air between them thick with a flirty, undeniable chemistry. My cold, stony expression must have stood out in the sea of smiling parents. Lily saw me first. She let out a little gasp, instinctively pushing Alan away before rushing over to me, her face a perfect mask of apology. “Sarah, please don’t misunderstand! Alan and I are just friends!” she pleaded. “Jimmy was so sad that you weren’t here, and all the other kids had their moms competing. He begged me to fill in for a little while. If you’re upset, I’ll quit right now!” Before she could finish, Jimmy ran up, positioning himself in front of Lily like a tiny, furious bodyguard. He glared at me. “You bad woman! What are you doing here?! Miss Lily is my mom now! I don’t need you!” Alan followed, his expression disapproving. “You’re the one who threw the fit, Sarah. You can’t just show up and expect us to drop everything for you. If you apologize to me and Jimmy, properly, we can let you take part in the rest of the events.” He stood there, waiting, expecting me to crumble and beg for forgiveness like I always had. I just frowned. “Who told you I was here for the Sports Day? I have other business to take care of. Get out of my way.” My dismissal only made Lily look more wounded. Her eyes welled up, her lip trembling. “Sarah, it’s all my fault! Blame me, please, just don’t be angry with Alan and Jimmy! I just couldn’t bear to see Jimmy feeling left out. That’s the only reason I agreed to participate.” As she spoke, she bowed deeply, a full ninety degrees. To any outsider, it looked as though I was bullying a kind, compassionate teacher. Murmurs and judgmental glances started rippling through the crowd. I was done wasting time on this drama. I turned to leave, but Alan grabbed my arm, his face dark with anger. “Sarah! Have you not caused enough trouble? Apologize to Lily. Now!” His grip was painfully tight. “Stop playing these games. You’re the one who pushed us away, remember? You deliberately waited until halfway through the event to show up, just to ambush Lily and make her look bad, to announce to everyone that you’re still my wife! I see right through your pathetic little schemes, and I won’t let you bully her! Either you apologize in front of everyone, or you get lost!” His baseless accusations were so ridiculous I almost laughed. I wrenched my arm from his grasp. “Get off me! Are you deaf? I said I’m not here for your stupid Sports Day! I couldn’t care less! You and your son can play happy families with whoever you want. It has nothing to do with me!” As I pulled away, Lily stumbled backward as if I had shoved her, collapsing to the ground in a heap. This time, the tears flowed freely, though she choked back her sobs, looking utterly heartbroken. That was all it took. Jimmy, her little knight in shining armor, launched himself at me like a cannonball, slamming his head directly into my stomach. The force of the impact knocked the wind out of me. I staggered back several steps before crumpling to the ground, my vision swimming with black spots as a sharp, searing pain shot through my abdomen. Through the haze, I heard Jimmy’s vicious little voice. “You’re an evil woman! I won’t let you hurt my mommy!” The contents of my purse spilled across the pavement, and the folded divorce papers slid out. Before I could reach for them, Lily snatched them up. She glanced at the document, and her hand flew to her mouth in a theatrical gasp. “These… these are divorce papers! Sarah, are you… are you divorcing Alan?!” 4 The sight of those papers made Lily’s eyes light up, but her expression was one of pure horror. She scrambled to her knees in front of me, bowing her head repeatedly. “Sarah, marriage is a sacred thing! If… if it’s because of me that you and Alan are having problems, then I am so, so sorry! I promise I will never see Alan or Jimmy again! Jimmy is still so young; he needs his mother!” Alan, who had looked momentarily panicked at the word “divorce”—a word I’d never used, no matter how bad our fights got—was visibly relieved by Lily’s performance. He and Jimmy rushed to her side, one helping her up, the other gently checking her forehead for scrapes. Then Alan turned to me, his face a mask of fury. “I thought giving you a few days to cool off would help, but instead you resort to threats like this? You think waving divorce papers around will make us come crawling back? Let me tell you, Sarah, it won’t work!” So, he’d been deliberately ignoring me. He and Jimmy hadn’t been home, which meant he didn’t even know I’d already moved out. I didn’t bother correcting him. Instead, I looked at the perfect little trio they formed and let out a cold laugh. “With what you and Lily have been doing? I have more than enough grounds to divorce you a thousand times over.” My statement captured the attention of every parent nearby. Lily flushed with shame, instinctively grabbing Alan’s sleeve for protection. “Sarah, watch what you say!” Alan hissed, his voice low and threatening. I raised mine. “You want me to air all your dirty laundry right here? The candlelit dinners? The weekend trips you took with my son while I was working? Where have you been staying these last few nights, Alan? At her place?” I pulled out my phone and displayed the screenshots of Lily’s boastful social media posts for all to see. My voice grew sharper. “Anyone looking at these would think you two are the married couple, and I’m just some stranger!” A wave of whispers spread through the crowd. “Oh my god, is that a picture of them in bed together? That’s not right…” “I knew it. That teacher always looked like trouble. She’s not here for the kids; she’s looking for a rich husband.” “The last time I was here for a conference, she barely gave me the time of day, but when my husband asked a question, she was all over him! I bet Jimmy’s dad isn’t the only one she’s been cozying up to!” The accusations struck Lily like lightning. Her face went pale. She had posted those pictures to taunt me, thinking I was too meek and quiet to ever fight back. She never imagined that the quietest people can have the most explosive breaking points. With one move, I had threatened to destroy the career she had worked so hard to build. She couldn’t find the words to defend herself. Tears streamed down her face, and she turned and fled. Alan didn’t hesitate. He hauled me to my feet, and his palm cracked across my face. His features were twisted with rage. “I think you’ve actually gone insane! Spreading vicious rumors about Lily in public! You just wait, Sarah. You are going to pay for this.” He scooped Jimmy into his arms and chased after her, leaving me alone in the center of a circle of gawking, gossiping strangers. 5 It took Alan a while to calm Lily down. When he and Jimmy finally returned home, they were hit by the stench. The food Jimmy had thrown on the floor three days ago was still there, a congealed, greasy mess that reflected the dim light. The entire apartment reeked of sour, rotting garbage. Alan gagged, stumbling back out the door to retch against the hallway wall. It finally dawned on him: in the days he’d been gone, I hadn’t come back either. There was no other explanation for the state of the apartment. A fresh wave of fury washed over him. He grabbed his phone and dialed my number, but all he got was a busy signal. He knew that sound. It was the same one I heard whenever he blocked my calls. The realization that I had blocked him sent him into a rage. He threw his phone against the wall, where it shattered. “Fine! So you’ve grown a backbone, have you? You’re blocking my calls now? You want to run away? Go on, then! See if I care! Stay away forever!” His first instinct was to punish me by cutting off my access to his credit card, his usual power move. But when he checked the account, he found I had already unlinked myself. For the first time, a sliver of doubt crept into his mind. Was this real? Was I actually leaving? Meanwhile, the story of what happened at the preschool had gone viral online among the parent groups. Lily was suspended from her job, and she spent her days at home, crying. Alan and Jimmy felt terrible for her, but as the other parties involved, anything they said in her defense would be dismissed. The only person who could clear her name was me. But Alan couldn’t find me. He was at a loss. One evening, Lily looked at him, her eyes gleaming with a new idea. “I know a way,” she said softly. “But I’m not sure you’ll be willing to do it.” After she explained, Alan hesitated. “Isn’t that going too far?” Even Jimmy pouted. “The house is a mess since Mom left. I don’t want to push her away again. Miss Lily, maybe you should just say you’re sorry.” Lily’s tears started instantly. “My reputation is ruined! You two are the only ones I have left! If you’re turning on me too, then what’s the point of even living?” That was enough. Alan gritted his teeth and agreed. That woman needs to be taught a lesson, he thought. Then she’ll learn not to defy me. We still need her around the house.

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After I lost my memory, I forgot I was the villain. I sent a group text to my close contacts: [Sorry, I have amnesia. Who is this?] My phone immediately buzzed with four new messages. From the aloof childhood friend I used to bully: [Is this another one of your new ways to torture me? Your food is downstairs. Remember to eat it.] From the loyal stepbrother I used to torment: [Still mad at me? I transferred you some spending money. I’ll be home tonight to keep you company.] From the cool female lead I used to mess with: [Putting on an act again? If you have amnesia, go back to sleep. I signed you in for class.] Me: “?” Was I secretly the beloved main character all along? 1 The hospital room was a blur of doctors and nurses, the air thick with the sterile scent of antiseptic. I pushed myself up, my head swimming. Nearby, a doctor was speaking with a middle-aged man. “How is she doing now?” “Miss Shen’s amnesia isn’t too severe at the moment. She just seems to have forgotten specific people…” I blinked, trying to process their words. Amnesia? How could I have amnesia? “I don’t think I have amnesia!” I interjected. “I remember my name is Ava Shen. My father is Robert Shen, and my mother is Olivia Song.” The middle-aged man turned to me, his expression patient. “Well, do you remember my name, Miss Ava?” I nodded eagerly. “Of course. You’re our butler, Mr. Peterson.” He was silent for a long moment, his face a mixture of emotions. “Miss… I’m your family’s driver. And my name is Mr. Miller, not Peterson.” Me: “?” He sighed and turned back to the doctor. “Please, do whatever you can for her. I need to go contact her parents.” From their brief conversation, I gathered that I had slipped on the library stairs, fallen unconscious, and been brought to the hospital by a classmate. After they left, it finally sank in. I started scrolling through my phone. If it weren’t for my parents’ names in my contacts, I’d think I had picked up a stranger’s phone. Just then, two messages popped up from someone saved as “Cold-Hearted Monster.” [Come downstairs in thirty minutes to get your takeout.] [I’m not paying extra for delivery to your door.] I racked my brain, but I had no idea who this person was. I typed back: [Are you buying me lunch?] The reply was swift, each word dripping with sarcasm. [It is my duty to procure lunch for the great Miss Shen.] [But next time you want something from off-campus, could you perhaps provide some advance notice?] [I just wasted thirty minutes in line. Wouldn’t want to delay your precious mealtime.] Well, he’s certainly polite, I thought. But food wasn’t my main concern right now. [No need. I’m not eating today,] I replied. The other end went silent. I couldn’t see his face, but I could almost feel the waves of irritation radiating through the screen. [Is this because you didn’t like the breakfast I brought you this morning?] [So you’re throwing another tantrum?] I quickly tried to explain. [No, it’s not that. I have amnesia. qwq] He scoffed. [Is this the latest method Miss Shen has devised to torture me?] Me: “?” Was I really that awful? Worried he wouldn’t believe me, I sent him a photo. [I’m not lying. See? I’m still in a hospital bed.] A long time passed with no reply. He had probably fainted from anger or just couldn’t be bothered with me anymore. I scrolled through our chat history. This “Cold-Hearted Monster” seemed to be my personal assistant, fetching my meals, picking up my packages, and buying my bubble tea. He even tutored me and let me copy his answers on exams. But my attitude toward him was appalling. My messages were demanding and imperious. A wave of guilt washed over me. How could I talk to a classmate like that? “Ava—” The door to my room burst open, and a boy rushed in. He was wearing a simple white shirt, but his features were sharp and elegant. Even the fingers gripping the takeout container were long and pale. I found myself staring. Some people lose their memories, but their appreciation for beauty remains unchanged. My standards for my ideal type certainly hadn’t wavered. I looked up at him and asked cautiously, “And you are?” His body went rigid. He pressed his lips together, his gaze dropping to the floor. “You don’t remember who I am?” I frowned, trying hard to recall. “Are you the Cold-Hearted Monster?” His expression was complicated. “…My name is Eddie.” Eddie reached out as if to check the wound on my forehead. “You fell down the stairs? Is it serious?” Seeing me flinch, he awkwardly dropped his hand, his tone turning cold again. “I’m not worried about you. I’m just afraid you’ll hit your head and find a way to blame it on me.” His words painted a vivid picture of a selfish, spoiled brat. My guilt deepened. When I didn’t say anything, he asked again, his voice softer, “You really don’t remember me?” “I don’t,” I answered honestly. “But from our chat history, it looks like you’re the one who runs all my errands.” “…Not exactly,” Eddie said. I looked at him, puzzled. He took a deep breath. “We’re childhood friends.” When I remained silent, he added coolly, “And, well, our parents arranged for us to be married.” I was shocked. “What? But our chats don’t look like that at all…” I thought he was just a classmate I barely knew. Eddie’s anger turned into a bitter laugh. “If we weren’t engaged, who do you think would be willing to run your errands every single day? Who would buy your meals and save you a seat in class?” “But you just said it was your duty,” I argued, confused. Eddie’s eyelids flickered. “Yes. My duty as your fiancé. Is it not?” Just then, Mr. Miller, the driver, walked in. He looked surprised to see Eddie. “Eddie? What are you doing here?” Eddie stood up politely. “I came to see how she’s doing.” Mr. Miller was about to sit down when Eddie’s next words made him jump back up. “By the way, Mr. Miller, Ava doesn’t believe we grew up together. Can you tell her? That we’re already engaged.” Mr. Miller’s eyes widened. “Huh?” He glanced from Eddie’s dead-serious face to my bewildered one. After a moment of thought, he gave a slow, complicated nod. “Yes… that’s true.” 2 Mr. Miller was the first person I saw when I woke up. He had been running around handling my paperwork and contacting my parents, so I had already started to trust him. And Eddie didn’t look like he was joking. A secret part of me was thrilled. My ideal type had just turned into my fiancé. I felt like I’d hit the jackpot. I guess even with amnesia, you still fall for the people you were meant to like. When Mr. Miller stepped out to take a call, Eddie placed the food container on the bedside table and handed me a bowl and chopsticks. “Eat up.” I glanced at the food and smiled. “What a coincidence. These are all my favorite dishes.” Eddie ladled some soup into my bowl, his voice flat. “It’s not a coincidence. This is the menu you specifically requested this morning.” “Oh…” I said, my guilt returning. “Was it a lot of trouble for you?” He wiped his hands with a napkin, his tone detached. “It’s not like today was the only day you’ve been trouble. I’m used to it.” A pang of sympathy hit me. I tugged on his sleeve. “Why don’t you eat with me, then?” Eddie’s body tensed. He touched his nose and cleared his throat. “I only bought one serving.” “Don’t we usually eat together?” I asked, confused again. He turned to look out the window. “…We do. I just already ate today.” I didn’t doubt him and started my meal. While he was drinking some water, I started chattering away. “You know, Eddie, the moment I saw you, I felt like I was starting to remember things.” He choked on his water, coughing violently. For a moment, he completely lost his composure. “You’re remembering?” His voice sounded strained, a far cry from the cool demeanor he’d had just moments before. I nodded. “Yeah. The second I saw you, I just knew we were perfect for each other. It must be because we’re engaged. My fated husband.” I beamed at him. “And even though I have amnesia, my standards for my ideal type haven’t changed a bit. The husband I imagined looks just like you.” Eddie: “…” A faint blush spread across his handsome face, and the tips of his ears turned a deep crimson. He shot up from his chair so quickly he almost knocked over the table. Me: “?” Eddie struggled to regain his composure, but his flushed cheeks betrayed him. He held up his phone. “Uh… I just got a notification from my study group. I have to go back. I need to submit something to my advisor this afternoon.” “Oh, then you should go!” I said, trying to be understanding. “I’m feeling much better. I’ll just rest this afternoon and I should be fine.” He nodded, his voice softer. “I’ll come back to see you later tonight.” He practically fled the room. Wow, being a grad student must be tough, I thought. A message from an advisor is like a summons from the grim reaper. Mr. Miller came back in just as he left. “Eddie’s gone already?” I nodded, smiling. “Yeah. He said he’ll be back later.” Mr. Miller looked relieved. “The doctor thinks it would be best if a family member came to the hospital,” he said. “Your parents are abroad and can’t get back right away. Should I contact your brother?” Brother? I have a brother? Seeing my blank expression, Mr. Miller looked unsurprised. He took my phone, tapped the screen a few times, and handed it back. “This is your brother.” I looked down. The profile picture was a beagle wearing sunglasses. The contact name was “Human Wishing Well.” Our chat history was sparse, consisting almost entirely of money transfers from him to me, and him immediately offering to “take care of” anyone who made me upset. He was faster than Amazon Prime. “Ava, you probably don’t remember, but Ethan is your brother. Not by blood, though. Your parents adopted him,” Mr. Miller explained. “He’s three years older than you and always takes good care of you.” That made sense. I sent him a message. [Brother.] He replied almost instantly with a string of fifty question marks. I had no idea what he was so surprised about, but I typed on. [Are you free right now?] Human Wishing Well: [Of course! What’s wrong? Who’s bothering you this time?] Human Wishing Well: [Send me their info. I’ll take care of them.] Human Wishing Well: [Need some money? I’ll transfer it right now.] Human Wishing Well: [And what did you just call me? Can you say it again? TvT…] What a strange brother. And what a strange request. But I humored him. [Brother, can you come to the hospital?] Another row of question marks appeared, followed by an incoming voice call. I’ve always hated phone calls. Amnesia hadn’t changed that. I ruthlessly declined it. Human Wishing Well: [? Why didn’t you answer? What’s wrong?] Human Wishing Well: [Is this a scammer?!] Human Wishing Well: [Scammers should rot in hell. Give her phone back or I’ll hunt you down.] Me: […Don’t feel like talking. Too lazy.] Human Wishing Well: [Oh, it’s you.] Me: [I have amnesia.] Another long string of question marks. It fit his profile picture perfectly. Human Wishing Well: [Do you still remember who I am?] I was starting to get annoyed. [Yes, you’re my brother, aren’t you?] Human Wishing Well: [Yes!! Yes!! I’m your favorite brother!!] Please stop adding weird adjectives yourself, I thought. I pretended not to see it. [If you’re free, can you come to the hospital? The doctor needs to speak with a family member.] Human Wishing Well: [Send me the address.] After I sent the location, I added, [Don’t worry, it’s not serious,] just in case he was worried. Human Wishing Well: [Okay, I’m on my way ^^.] [No rush,] I typed. [Mr. Miller is here with me. And my fiancé came to visit earlier.] There was a moment of silence. Then, a new, even longer row of shocked question marks. Human Wishing Well: [Fiancé?? Who the hell is that!!?] 3 It wasn’t long before Ethan arrived, looking flustered. He was still in a suit and tie, but his short, stylish hair and the single earring in his left ear clashed with the formal attire. “Ava…” he began, sitting by my bed, his face a mixture of excitement and emotion. “So, after losing your memory, I’m the only one you remember?” “Uh, actually, I don’t remember you either…” Ethan: “?” I handed him my phone. “Mr. Miller told me the person with this profile picture is my brother.” Ethan took the phone and glanced at the screen. His mouth twitched. “Why did you save my name as ‘Human Wishing Well’?” I felt like everyone I’d met today belonged in a hospital bed more than I did. “If I knew that, would it still be called amnesia?” “Good point…” Even though my stepbrother seemed a little unreliable, he was the only family I had right now. I tugged on his sleeve and whispered, “Brother, can I be discharged? I want to go home.” Ethan’s heart melted. “Of course! I’ll go take care of the paperwork right now!” He strode to the door, then turned back and cleared his throat. “Oh, by the way, Ava, there’s something I forgot to tell you.” I looked at him, curious. He took a deep breath and said in a low, serious voice, “At home, you’ve always called me ‘Big Bro’.” … Half an hour later, I was in the car on the way home. Ethan kept fussing over me. “Want a drink? How about a snack?” I shook my head, smiling. “No, thank you, Big Bro.” “Ah… Music? A game?” “I’m good, thanks, Big Bro. You don’t have to go to any trouble.” Ethan savored the title, a satisfied look on his face. As I scrolled through our chat history, a question popped into my head. “Big Bro, I get the feeling we didn’t get along very well before.” Ethan bristled like a stray dog. “Who said that! Who said that!” I showed him my phone. “I saw it myself. And my tone with you was… not very nice.” Tears welled up in Ethan’s eyes. “What do you mean, not nice? I thought it was great.” Me: “?” Are you okay, bro? In our chats, I treated him like a dog. If he did anything to displease me, I would chew him out. And he would just take it, never arguing, only saying, [Don’t be mad. It’s all my fault. I transferred you some money. Go buy yourself a nice bag.] How could I have been so awful? But Ethan started listing my virtues. “Look, whenever someone bullied you, you’d tell me to go beat them up. Isn’t that just you being concerned about my health, afraid I’d get a beer belly, making sure I got some exercise?” “And you made me give you money every week. Why? Because you knew I’d just waste it! You were stopping me at the source! And you didn’t buy junk, you bought gold and luxury bags. What’s that? An investment! You were managing my finances for me!” “And sure, sometimes you were a little blunt, but who cares? We’re family! They say the people who love you the most hurt you the most. You love me the most, so I totally get it.” Me: “?” The car pulled into a gated community of villas. As I got out, Ethan held a parasol over my head. “By the way,” he said suddenly, “you mentioned your fiancé came to see you. Who is he?” I smiled. “He said his name is Eddie. Do you know him?” Ethan fell silent. After a long moment, he ground out, “Damn it. My house has been robbed.” “Don’t you dare believe a word he says,” he hissed. “He looks all innocent on the outside, but he’s rotten to the core. A total liar.” Just as he finished, a cynical laugh echoed from the front steps. “Are you introducing yourself?”

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1 The fourth year of my marriage to Amelia was the year the company started to die. To save the firm from bankruptcy, she recruited a top-tier project manager from overseas, a man who’d landed nine-figure deals. The day he came in to sign his contract, I saw the butterfly tattoo on his wrist. The color drained from my face. I vetoed his hiring on the spot. When Amelia found out, she exploded. We had the worst fight of our marriage. Seeing she was determined to hire him anyway, I told her I was resigning. And I wanted a divorce. She stared at me, her face a mask of disbelief. “Because of a tattoo? Julian, we don’t have a policy against tattoos!” The project manager himself, Adrian, stepped forward. “If the tattoo bothers you, I can have it removed.” “See?” Amelia pleaded. “He’s being more than reasonable. Stop making a scene.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “Fine. As long as you sign the divorce papers, you can give him the whole damn company for all I care.” … My words hit Amelia like a physical blow. “Julian, I know you’re upset that I’m putting him in your position, but you’re the one who said you’d do anything to save this company!” she shot back, her voice shaking with frustration. “You were on board with this yesterday. What is your problem now?!” She looked at me as if I’d lost my mind. I didn’t offer an explanation. I just repeated my ultimatum, my voice cold and flat. “If you hire him, we get a divorce.” I watched her, my eyes fixed on her face, searching for any flicker of the woman I’d married. Before today, Amelia and I were the couple everyone envied—the model of a perfect partnership. We always chose each other, even when business and personal interests collided. But today, she wasn’t budging. Not an inch. After a long, tense silence, she tried to reason with me again, her tone softening. “Julian, please. Adrian is incredibly talented. With him, we can pull the company out of this crisis. It’s not about the tattoo. We don’t have rules against things like that, you know that.” I nodded slowly as a flicker of relief crossed her face. Then I pulled out my phone. I made a call. “I need a divorce agreement drawn up,” I said into the receiver. “Have it messengered to my office. Now.” Amelia’s face froze. The air in the room turned to ice. Finally, Adrian broke the silence. “Mr. Hayes,” he said, his voice smooth and conciliatory. “To be honest, this tattoo has special meaning to me. I got it with my first love.” He paused, then added with a sigh, as if making a great sacrifice, “But if you’re this opposed to it, I’ll have it removed. However…” He let the word hang in the air. “If I’m not welcome here, I’m not so desperate for a job that I have to stay.” That was all it took. Amelia snapped. “That’s enough, Julian!” she cried, her voice cracking. “This company isn’t just yours to throw away! I won’t let you! Adrian turned down every other offer to come back here and work for us. How can you be so cruel?” Her voice rose, taking on a righteous edge. “Think about our employees! They have families to feed! Even if you want to fight with me, can’t you at least consider them?” At her words, the employees who had been trying to fade into the background suddenly found their voices. “Amelia’s right. The company’s in trouble. Why won’t Mr. Hayes agree?” “I’ve been here three years. I’ve seen enough of their PDA to last a lifetime, but I’ve never seen them fight like this.” “You think he’s just afraid of being replaced? Is that why he’s being so dramatic?” I heard that and felt a muscle in my jaw twitch. Of course, not everyone was against me. “I don’t think Director Hayes is like that,” someone countered. “He’s always been good to us, never pulled rank. Maybe there’s something else going on.” “That doesn’t matter!” another shot back. “Whatever his personal issue is, the company has to come first. Amelia is working herself to the bone, and he’s throwing a tantrum. Men…” They didn’t bother to lower their voices, making sure Amelia heard every word. It was obvious who they thought held the power, who they needed to please. But they had no idea. Without me, Amelia’s company would have crashed and burned years ago. And I hadn’t forgotten the flicker of guilt on Amelia’s face the first time I mentioned the tattoo. She had made her choice. Now, I would stick to mine. Just then, Amelia’s voice cut through the gossip. “Quiet!” she snapped. “Have you all forgotten? You will show Julian the same respect you show me. Always.” She turned back to me, her expression softening. “Okay, stop this,” she said, her voice gentle, almost cooing. “Julian, I promise you, no one is going to threaten your position here. Let’s just get Adrian onboarded, and we can talk about the rest at home.” I looked at her, but the man who loved her was gone. All that was left was ice. “No need. Once the lawyer gets here with the papers, we’ll be done.” I turned to go back to my office and pack my things. Behind me, there was a loud crash as something hit the floor. “Julian! Don’t push me!” Amelia’s voice was dangerously low. “If you can’t see what’s important right now, then you can go home and think about it. When you’ve come to your senses, you can come back.” I heard the threat, the raw power play in her words, but I didn’t turn around. She still thought I was bluffing. She even had security escort me out so I wouldn’t interfere with Adrian’s paperwork. A humorless smile touched my lips. I left, just as she wanted. Back home, I went straight to our photo albums and found Amelia’s college pictures. There it was. A butterfly tattoo on her wrist, a perfect match to the one on Adrian’s. A couple’s tattoo. I remembered asking her about it once. I’d seen a similar design at the construction site where my father had his accident. She’d brushed it off, saying she’d just thought it looked cool and had slapped on a temporary one for fun. I’d had my doubts, but when I checked her wrist, there was no trace of ink, so I’d let it go. Now, I flipped to her graduation photo. And there he was, standing a few feet away from her in the class picture. Adrian. My blood ran cold. I picked up the phone. “I need you to look into something for me.” Shortly after I hung up, the lawyer arrived with the divorce agreement. He also brought the share transfer documents I’d requested. If we were divorcing, we were settling everything. I had no intention of staying with the firm; selling my shares was the cleanest break. I was on the phone with a couple of the older board members when Amelia came home. Trailing right behind her, carrying a suitcase, was Adrian. She saw me looking and offered a bright, brittle smile. “Adrian just got back to the country and hasn’t found a place yet. I told him he could stay with us for a few days. You don’t mind, do you?” The sheer audacity of it was almost funny. She brings him into our home and then asks for my opinion? Did she think I had amnesia? We had just had a marriage-ending fight at the office a few hours ago, and here she was, acting as if nothing had happened. When I didn’t answer, she walked over to me. “Are you still mad about what happened at the office?” she asked softly. “Come on, honey. Just tell me what you want, and I’ll do anything to make this right. Okay?” Her voice was a velvet purr, her eyes full of promises. A year ago, a week ago, that would have been enough to melt my anger away. Not today. “Sign the divorce papers,” I said, my voice flat. “Then you can hire him, move him in, do whatever you want. It will have nothing to do with me.” Amelia fell silent, at a loss for words. Adrian, ever the helpful observer, stepped in. “Amelia, I hate to interfere in your personal life, but I can’t just stand by and watch this. You’re humbling yourself for him, and he’s being completely unreasonable. He’s just being petty.” He shot a pointed look at me. “You’re doing what’s best for the company. He doesn’t see it now, but he will once things turn around.” He was trying to poison her against me right to my face, a smug, challenging look in his eyes. Amelia just frowned, not responding to him. She looked at me. “Julian, that’s enough. I have a mountain of problems to deal with at the office. I don’t have time for these games.” “Fine,” I nodded. “Let me know when you’re ready to be serious.” I picked up the suitcase I had already packed. Her face hardened, her patience completely gone. “Julian, if you walk out that door, don’t bother coming back.” I glanced at her one last time, a detached smile on my face. That was the plan. I left our house and drove to the small apartment I grew up in. My father had bought it when I was in school. It was modest, but it was warm, filled with memories I cherished. After he died, I could never bring myself to sell it, but I hadn’t been able to face coming back here, either. A thick layer of dust covered everything. It took me hours to clean the place. Just as I finished, I got a text from Amelia. [You want a divorce? Fine. My office. Tomorrow. 2 PM.] I frowned. It felt wrong. She’d changed her mind too quickly. Was it a trap? There was only one way to find out. The next day, when I arrived at the office, Amelia’s secretary blocked my path. “Amelia is in a meeting with Director Adrian about work. She said she’s not to be disturbed unless it’s urgent.” I used to walk into her office without ever knocking. It was true what they said. When the first love returns, everyone else has to get out of the way. But for me, this wasn’t about love anymore. It was about finding the truth behind my father’s death. “Okay,” I said, turning to leave. Just then, a ripple of laughter came from inside the office. It didn’t sound like they were talking business. It sounded like they were flirting. The door swung open, and Adrian stepped out. “Ah, Julian. You’re here. Amelia has been waiting for you.” I gave him a cold look and started to walk past him. As I did, he leaned in and whispered, his voice dripping with malice. “You must be dying to know how your father really died, aren’t you?” I whipped my head around to see the taunting smirk on his face. My fists had been clenched since the moment I saw his tattoo. I had planned to wait, to gather all my evidence before I made a move. But he had just crossed a line. I didn’t hesitate. I swung, my fist connecting with his jaw. The secretary screamed. I hit him again. As I drew my arm back for a third punch, Amelia rushed out and shoved me away. She helped Adrian to his feet, her face dark with fury. “What is going on?” Adrian, looking the very picture of innocence, stammered, “I was just trying to ask him to speak with you calmly, and he just… he just started hitting me.” The words were barely out of his mouth before Amelia’s hand cracked across my face. “Have you lost your mind?” she hissed. “Apologize. Now. This is a place of business, not your personal playground.” Apologize to him? Not in this lifetime. I wasn’t just going to make him apologize. I was going to send him to prison. But I couldn’t say that yet. It would tip my hand, give him a chance to run. Adrian, ever the bigger man, said, “It’s okay, Amelia. It’s understandable that Mr. Hayes wouldn’t accept me. I’ll just get back to work. You two should talk.” The more reasonable he acted, the more unhinged I appeared. Once he was gone, Amelia glared at me. “In my office.” I walked in and dropped the divorce papers on her desk. “Sign it.” She ignored them. “So, after a night to cool off, this is still what you want? To throw our marriage away?” It was clear then. She hadn’t called me here to sign anything. A cold laugh escaped me. “What do you really want, Amelia?” “Julian, everything I’m doing is for the company. I don’t want to fight with you. Just move back home, and we can pretend none of this ever happened.” Without a word, I picked up the papers and turned to leave. “Wait!” She finally relented. “Fine. You want me to sign? Then you need to be at the new product launch tomorrow.” A product launch? This was the first I’d heard of it. It had to be something she and Adrian had cooked up. And if they wanted me there, it wasn’t for a good reason. Whatever they were planning, I’d find out tomorrow. The next day, the venue was swarming with reporters. Amelia’s company had done well over the years, and its recent troubles had made it a hot topic. Rumors were flying that the place was cursed. We hadn’t made any public statements. Until today. Amelia took the stage and addressed the crowd, a series of photos flashing on the screen behind her—pictures of me, looking stressed, meeting with various people over the last few weeks. “The reason our company is facing a crisis,” she announced, her voice filled with practiced sorrow, “is because my husband, Julian Hayes, leaked confidential company secrets.” I had braced myself for something, but even so, the bald-faced lie was stunning. For a moment, I just felt a strange urge to laugh. Our eyes met across the room. Her look was clear: This is your punishment for being difficult. A cold fire burned in my chest. She had no idea what was coming. She looked away, her expression turning to one of deep sadness. “I don’t know why he would do this, but we have terminated his position and brought on a new, brilliant project manager. We are very excited for the future!”

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At forty-seven, my husband Arthur was on death’s door, and he chose that moment to confess. He told me that the daughter we had raised, Aubrey, was not my child. She was his sister-in-law’s. He had switched our babies while I was lost in a postpartum haze, moments after giving birth. But his sister-in-law’s child… at six years old, she’d had a raging fever. They didn’t get her to the hospital in time. The fever had damaged her brain. The look on my face must have been horrifying. Arthur wept, begging for my forgiveness. He swore that if there was a next life, he would marry me again and spend an eternity atoning for what he’d done. He had schemed against me for my entire life, and he still dared to imagine a next one? Only the weak pin their hopes on fairy tales of rebirth and second chances for revenge. I’m the type to settle a score then and there. Besides, had he really been so blind all these years? Didn’t he ever notice that the child bore no resemblance to him, or to his precious sister-in-law? 1 After Arthur got the lab results from the hospital, he came home and locked himself in his study. He didn’t come out all afternoon. I knew he was taking it hard, so I left him alone. Not long after, the doorbell rang. I opened it to find Arthur’s sister-in-law, Helen, standing on the porch. Behind her stood her daughter, Sophie—the poor girl whose mind had been frozen in time by that fever years ago. Helen’s brow was furrowed. The first words out of her mouth were, “Is Aubrey home yet?” Aubrey is my daughter. She’s twenty-two and still in college. I shook my head. “Not yet.” Then, my curiosity piqued, “Why? Is something wrong?” Helen ignored me, pushing past me into the living room as if she owned the place. I gently guided Sophie, who was lingering by the door, inside. When I turned around, Helen was sitting on the sofa, arms crossed, watching us. “You know, Nina,” she said, her eyes cold despite the smirk playing on her lips, “from this angle, you and Sophie actually look a bit alike.” I didn’t respond. It wasn’t the first time she’d said that. We weren’t related by blood. How could her daughter possibly look like me? I had just sat down across from her when she pressed on impatiently, “Arthur is in this state, and you’re still planning on keeping it from Aubrey?” Arthur had only received his diagnosis two hours ago. How did Helen already know everything? Before I could answer, the study door opened. Arthur, who had been hiding in there since he got home, finally emerged. His eyes landed on Helen, and his lips trembled, but the word “Helen” never quite escaped. The report confirmed it: late-stage lung cancer. It had already spread. He’d missed the window for effective treatment. He only had a few months left. They stared at each other for a long moment before Helen spoke. “Arthur, I still think we shouldn’t hide this from Aubrey. She’s your daughter, after all. Don’t you agree?” She put a sharp, deliberate emphasis on the words “your daughter.” Arthur was silent for a while before finally nodding. “You’re right. We shouldn’t hide it from her.” The two of them went back and forth, their glances loaded with unspoken meaning, treating me as if I were invisible. I pretended not to notice. I hadn’t cared when I was young; why would I get worked up over a dying man now? Arthur didn’t have much family left. His parents and his older brother were long gone. Besides me and Aubrey, there was only Helen and his niece, Sophie. Just as Arthur was about to call Aubrey, I stepped in. “Aubrey’s summer break starts in two weeks. It can wait a few more days.” Arthur thought for a moment and nodded, putting his phone away. Helen’s face darkened. She shot me a sideways glance. “You’re quite the controlling mother, aren’t you?” I offered a thin smile. “What parent doesn’t want what’s best for their child?” “True enough,” she said, her tone dripping with insinuation. “A pity about my poor, simple-minded girl. No matter how much I plan for her future, it’s useless.” Sophie sat beside me, blissfully unaware, her head bowed as she played with her fingers. The contrast between her innocence and her mother’s calculated bitterness was stark. Helen’s words were a joke. What had she ever planned for Sophie? The girl was in her twenties with a buzz cut, dressed in clothes that hung off her frame, her skin tanned to leather. She looked nothing like a young woman should. Arthur walked over and sat on the same sofa as Helen, leaving an empty space between them. Since everyone was here, I asked him, “What kind of treatment are you considering?” Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose, his face a mask of despair. “I haven’t decided yet.” He looked terrible. The diagnosis seemed to have drained the very life force from him. Helen was scrolling on her phone, pretending not to hear. Doctors are always ambiguous, probably to keep patients from losing hope. They don’t say it’s incurable, but they don’t promise a cure, either. They create an illusion: with the right treatment, there’s a chance. Arthur was clinging to that illusion. He’d saved up a decent amount from his business over the years; paying for treatment wouldn’t be an issue. It was at this point that Helen suddenly chimed in. “I think you should go for palliative care. That way, you won’t suffer so much.” Arthur’s face turned ashen. In his mind, palliative care was the same as giving up. He usually deferred to Helen, but this was his life on the line. No matter how bravely a man talks about death, when it’s staring him in the face, the fear of the unknown takes over. That fear magnifies, breeding a ferocious will to live. Helen announced she would be staying with us, claiming I couldn’t possibly manage Arthur on my own and that she, as his sister-in-law, needed to help. Arthur said nothing, just looked at me as if seeking my permission. I did have my own job to worry about. I had been planning on hiring a nurse. With Helen offering herself up, I had no reason to refuse. “That would be a great help, Helen. Thank you.” She waved a dismissive hand. “We’re family. No need for formalities.” And she certainly wasn’t formal. That evening, she lay on the sofa with a face mask on, binge-watching a TV series, and had the nerve to order me around. “God, I can’t remember the last time the little dummy had a bath,” she said. “Nina, be a dear and wash her for me, would you?” Sophie was engrossed in the television, giggling uncontrollably at a Tom and Jerry chase scene. I remembered her as a bright, adorable little girl, before the fever. Looking at her now, I could only think that having a mother like Helen was a cruel twist of fate. Sophie and Aubrey were born on the same day, with Aubrey being just three hours older. Sophie didn’t want her cartoon to end and struggled when I tried to lead her away. Helen shot her a venomous glare and barked, “Go take a bath!” I felt Sophie’s whole body flinch. She dropped to the floor, curled into a ball with her hands over her head, and let out a piercing scream. It was a classic trauma response, the reaction of a child who has been hit too many times. The noise brought Arthur out of his room. He glanced at Sophie, still screaming on the floor, then at Helen, his voice laced with annoyance. “Why are you yelling at her?” Helen snorted. “I regret not strangling her at birth.” As she said it, she kept darting her eyes toward me. I stood by, a cold observer. Sophie was her only child. How she chose to treat her was her business. I had no right to interfere. When Arthur’s friends heard he was sick, they started visiting in droves. It was too crowded to eat at home, so I booked a private room at a nearby hotel. These were men Arthur had worked with for years. Mindful of his condition, they kept the conversation light, reminiscing about good times and telling jokes to keep his spirits up. During the dinner, I noticed a man named Mark who seemed to know Helen. They exchanged loaded glances several times, a silent conversation passing between them. I didn’t know Mark well; he’d only started doing business with Arthur a few years ago. Their friendship wasn’t deep, and even Arthur seemed surprised to see him there. I watched them, my expression carefully neutral. At one point, Helen excused herself. A moment later, Mark also got up, mumbling something about the restroom, and followed her out. Others had left the table throughout the evening, so their dual departure didn’t raise any suspicion. They returned nearly twenty minutes later, one after the other. Mark was in a noticeably better mood, suddenly more talkative. Then, whether by accident or design, he brought up the topic of assets and inheritance. A heavy silence fell over the table. The smile vanished from Arthur’s face, and the hand holding his chopsticks began to tremble. The friend sitting next to Mark gave him a playful punch, trying to salvage the mood. “What are you talking about that for? Our Arthur is tough as nails. He’ll pull through.” A chorus of agreement followed, and the atmosphere began to lift. But then Helen cut in. “He’s not wrong, though. Arthur, even if not for yourself, you have to think about the child, don’t you?” When she said “yourself,” her gaze flickered over to me, dripping with malice. Arthur and I put down our chopsticks at the same time. The meal was over.

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Chapter 1 The so-called symbiosis between humans and vampires is a lie. A charade, thin as a cicada’s wing, stretched over the chasm between predator and prey. In the dynasty of the blood-clans, they call this charade a “delicate balance.” My job, as a Hunter of the Order, is to shatter it. My mission is here, in the deceptively serene city of Havencrest. My target: the House of Fairchild. Right now, I’m buried in a thicket of roses they call “The Blood Hells.” The name fits. The petals are a red so dense it bleeds to black at the edges, and when they’re in full bloom, the garden does look like a beautiful, terrible corner of hell. The cloying, sweet scent hangs in the air like old blood. Intel says the young master of the house, Emil Fairchild, is obsessed with them. A love for the color red. It’s about the only thing about him that fits the vampire archetype. Intel also says his name is Emil, and he’s a few years shy of his two-hundredth birthday—a teenager by their standards. Because of this, he doesn’t even have a formal blood servant. For me, that’s the perfect opening. I shift my weight, the cold, hard outline of the silver dagger tucked in my belt pressing against my palm. It keeps me sharp. The whisper of footsteps on the gravel path sends a jolt through me. I hold my breath, sinking deeper into the thorny embrace of the roses. A blond vampire appears at the end of the path. I narrow my eyes, studying my potential target. The Kindred are all blessed with an unnatural beauty, and he’s no exception. He’s tall and slender, his golden hair a stark contrast to the requisite vampiric pallor, giving his face a vitality that shouldn’t belong to his kind. He is, as the reports suggested, energetic—rumor has it even his tutor, a stern old creature named Silas, can barely keep track of him. He doesn’t seem to notice me. His gaze is lost in the sea of crimson blossoms. My briefing included a psychological profile: he despises the long, tedious lessons on Kindred history and etiquette, preferring the solitude of his garden. He claims that only here, surrounded by a red as fierce and hot as fire, can he feel truly “alive.” A creature that sustains itself on stolen life, seeking a sense of vitality from a plant. The irony is laughable. Just as I’m cataloging his weaknesses, his head snaps in my direction. I’m made. My stomach plummets. My right hand is already gripping the hilt of my dagger. But to my astonishment, his brilliant blue eyes hold no alarm, no hostility. Instead, something sparks within them, hot and fast like flint striking tinder. He freezes, as if enchanted, staring right at me. The entire world seems to fade into a gray wash around him, leaving only me, the intruder, in sharp focus. So much for stealth. I rise to my feet, making a show of calmly brushing crimson petal fragments from my clothes. I let my own eyes—red, a rare trait in humans and a mark of my lineage—fill with the practiced contempt and vigilance of a Hunter. He doesn’t seem to see it. “I—I’m Emil. Emil Fairchild.” His voice is a slight stammer, his feet rooted to the spot. He looks like he wants to step closer but is terrified of scaring me away. What a naive little fool. “I know.” My voice is ice. I’m taller than him by a few inches, and I use the height to look down on him as I initiate my backup plan. “Emil Fairchild, in the name of the goddess Themis…” “My lord! It is time for your lesson!” A furious roar shatters the moment. A silver-haired, ancient-looking vampire—Silas, it must be—leans out of a high window before disappearing, clearly on his way down. My gaze sharpens on him. “My lord, who is this?” he demands as he storms into the garden, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of the sword at his hip. This old one. He’s the real threat. Emil snaps out of his trance, his eyes, now filled with a desperate curiosity, turning back to me. He doesn’t even know my name. “Cole,” I say, my voice clipped. “Yes, yes! His name is Cole.” Emil rushes to repeat it, eager to dismiss the old man. “Cole is a… a new friend. He’s my friend.” “Cole?” Silas’s eyes are like razors, scraping over me. “I have never seen him on the grounds.” His nostrils flare. He can smell my humanity. I can almost hear his thoughts, the standard vampire litany: humans, those grasping, greedy creatures, nothing but filth and deceit beneath a thin skin. I see his hand tighten on his sword. Emil frantically steps between us. “But my lord, you don’t have any human friends,” Silas says, his tone a clear warning. Then, a new thought seems to occur to him. Perhaps he’s considering Emil’s impending coming-of-age ceremony, and the need for a human blood servant as a sort of… final project. He relaxes his grip. “The Kindred do not need to be friends with humans. I have taught you this, my lord,” Silas says, his gaze flicking from Emil to me. “But they can be kept.” He claps Emil on the shoulder. “The estate’s wards are strong. You needn’t worry about any dirty little hunters.” The first part was an instruction for Emil. The second was a warning for me. This old bastard is sharper than I thought. Once the meddling tutor is gone, Emil dares to drift closer. It’s only then I realize the golden-haired aristocrat is indeed a bit shorter than me. “Emil Fairchild. My name is—” “You already said that,” I cut in coolly, observing him. He is cautious to the point of seeming timid, a perfect match for the naive profile I was given. He seems to be wrestling with Silas’s words. I decide to force the issue. “Blood servant. What is that?” “No! That’s not—Cole isn’t my blood servant. You can do anything you want, just… as long as you’re willing to stay.” The words burst out of him, and he immediately flushes, embarrassed by his own forwardness. He’s like a child who wants to keep a bright, warm thing close to him, just like his garden of Blood Hells. And right now, I’m the bright, warm thing that has caught his eye. “In a vampire’s mansion, what else is there for a human to do?” I ask, tossing the cold, hard reality back at him. He thinks for a moment. The only job opening for a human in the entire estate is… “…A blood servant,” he whispers, his voice falling. “Will I die?” I lock my eyes on his, asking the critical question. “No! Never. I would never hurt you,” he promises, so quickly it’s as if he’s afraid I’ll vanish on the spot. “Then I’ll do that.” I accept, my voice flat. Staying is the first step of the mission. Becoming his blood servant is the perfect cover. He seems genuinely thrilled. As he leads me back toward the manor, he can’t help but return to the topic of his beloved roses. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” “What?” “The flowers.” He lights up whenever he speaks of the Blood Hells. “So beautiful. Like the purest blood, covering the whole garden until there’s nothing left but red… an ocean of red…” He must have sensed my silence, because he turns, his gaze meeting my thinly veiled disdain. “Sorry. Humans probably don’t like to hear about things like that,” he says, cutting himself off. He leads me to a room in one of the upper wings of the house. I had no idea what being a “blood servant” actually entailed. Since the day I arrived, the golden-haired aristocrat has done nothing but drag me around the estate, either listening to him talk endlessly about his horrifying roses, or convincing me to skip his lessons with Silas to go sit and stare blankly at the garden with him. But there’s something strange about him. He watches me with an unnerving, fiery intensity. At first, I tried to ignore it. But as the days stretched into weeks, his staring grew more brazen. He can watch me in silence for what feels like hours. Yet, every time I meet his gaze, he snatches his eyes away, pretending he was looking at something else entirely. The Kindred gave me a reason to be here: to be his blood servant. But that’s not my real purpose. My purpose is to assassinate the master of the House of Fairchild. As I’m lost in thought, a sharp rap comes at my door. It’s late. The only person who would visit at this hour is the blond vampire himself. Setting aside the fact that he’s a blood-sucking monster, Emil is… interesting. But that doesn’t matter. Human and Kindred. We are two poles of a magnet that can never align. I pull the door open and find, not Emil, but his tutor, Silas. “You—” The older, more refined vampire presses a finger to his lips, silencing me with a look of pure disdain. He hands me a heavy, leather-bound book, turns on his heel, and walks away without another word. Baffled, I close the door and carry the book to my desk. In the lamplight, I see it’s a history of the Kindred, detailing their origins… and the precise rituals for creating a blood servant. A chill runs down my spine. Even now, after all this time, I find it impossible to see Emil as a true vampire, a monster I am sworn to kill. I close the book. A small, unassuming note flutters out from between the pages. The ink is faded, but the message is perfectly clear. [Becoming his blood servant is the only way you stay, human.] The old bastard is forcing my hand. He’s worried that Emil spends all his time with a human and hasn’t taken a single bite, but he’s also worried I’m a threat. Only by becoming a blood servant—bound by a magical contract never to betray or harm him—will he truly trust me. But if that contract is forged, I can never harm any vampire. The mission will be a catastrophic failure. It’s an impossible choice. As I’m caught in the dilemma, another knock sounds at the door. I assume it’s Silas, returning for some reason. But when I open it, I see Emil. He looks like he just came from the bath, his skin still damp, his blond hair not fully dry. “Cole? Did you need something from me?” I swear, for a split second, I saw something pure and unfiltered in his eyes: joy. A knot tightens in my throat. I change my planned words. “Uh, yeah. Can I come in?” “Of course.” He steps aside, letting me into his bedroom before closing the door behind us. The clean, warm scent of him envelops me as I pass, and a strange unease settles in my stomach. It’s only when I glimpse the open collar of his silk pajamas, revealing the smooth, pale skin of his chest, that the unease sharpens into an unfamiliar thirst, hot and dry in the back of my throat. He steps closer, and I have to force myself to turn away, holding out the book. “Your tutor gave this to me.” Emil takes it, his cheeks flushing as he flips through the pages. “Silas, he didn’t mean anything by it… it’s just because…” Silas. So that’s the old man’s name. “You’ve never had a blood servant before, have you?” I state the fact plainly, cutting off his excuses. He looks at me and nods, suddenly not knowing what to do with his hands. Seeing him like this, so innocent he’s almost clumsy, a thought flashes through my mind: maybe being bitten by him wouldn’t be so unbearable. Besides, it’s just a bite. Not the contract. A simple set of tooth marks would be enough to placate the suspicious old tutor, making the eventual assassination that much easier to carry out. With that thought, I stand up and walk to his bed, sitting on the edge of the lavish, ornate frame. Then, looking him straight in the eye, I pull open the collar of my shirt, exposing the strong, clean line of my neck. “Care to try?” “No, that’s not what I—” I cut him off, pressing him again, my voice a low murmur, like the serpent in the garden. “Do you want to bite me?”

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For ten years, my mission was Jerry Ewing, the city’s top business magnate. And for ten years, I failed. I once threw myself in front of a car to save him—costing me the hearing in my left ear. I thought that would finally complete my mission. That he’d marry me. Instead, his voice turned icy: “Marry into the Ewings? With a heart as toxic as yours, Julia? You tried to kill Lila. Get your head fixed first.” His sentence: “Letters of contrition. Ten thousand words a day. Write until you understand your depravity.” To complete the mission, I obeyed. He sent me to his private retreat for “treatment.” A year later, I returned broken. He greeted me coldly: “A year. Have you learned your lesson?” I nodded, hand resting on my slightly swollen belly as I knelt on the frozen ground. “Julia Vance knows her place now,” I whispered. “I will never presume to be worthy of the Ewings.” The moment I spoke, a cold voice echoed in my mind: [Host has abandoned the mission. Annihilation in eight days.] 1 After a year of being locked away in that remote retreat, he had finally decided to bring me home. “Hurry up. Don’t keep the master waiting.” The butler, Mr. Henderson, found me in a damp, dark room in the furthest corner of the facility, clad in rags. The air around me was thick with the stench of antiseptic and stale sweat. He waved a hand in front of his nose, his face twisting in disgust. “Really, Miss Vance. It’s only been a year. How could you let yourself fall into such a state?” he sneered. “You knew we were coming for you today. Or is this pathetic display meant to win the master’s pity?” I fought against a sharp, stabbing pain in my lower abdomen, struggling to my feet. I tugged at the tattered remnants of my dress, trying to cover my exposed skin. “You’re right, Mr. Henderson,” I mumbled, my head bowed. “I am a disgrace to the master.” I curled my swollen, frostbitten toes into my worn-out shoes and shuffled obediently behind him. The path was slick with snow and ice. The frozen ground tore open the half-healed sores on my feet, and I stumbled, a fresh wave of pain making me slow my pace. Mr. Henderson shot me a look of pure contempt. He grabbed my arm, his fingers digging in like claws. “Stop the act, or you can stay here and rot forever!” he hissed. “Don’t think I don’t know. The master provided you with a private therapist, gourmet meals, and luxury accommodations. This whole drama queen routine is because you heard you were coming home. It won’t work.” I bit my lip to stifle a cry and forced myself onward until I stood before Jerry Ewing. Through my one good eye, I took him in. He was exactly as I remembered: impossibly handsome, with an air of cold arrogance that kept the world at arm’s length. His gaze swept over my thin rags and bare feet standing in the snow, and his brow furrowed. He shot a questioning look at Mr. Henderson. The butler leaned in and whispered something in his ear. Jerry’s expression hardened into one of pure disgust. “So, she’s still the same manipulative creature,” he said, his voice dripping with scorn. “Does she really think this pathetic act will move me?” Everyone in the city knew the story: the heiress of the Vance family, obsessively in love with the great Jerry Ewing for a decade. I had spent a fortune, poured all my energy into becoming his wife. But they didn’t know the truth. It was all for the mission. And even with all my efforts, Jerry had never once acknowledged me as his fiancée. He was convinced I had used my family’s influence to pressure his parents, forcing him into an engagement he never wanted. I once believed my devotion could melt his frozen heart. But he never truly saw me. His eyes were always looking for someone else. I remember the tenderness in his gaze when he looked at Lila Gray. A warmth he had never, not once, shown me. I had been willing to die for him, yet his heart belonged completely to another woman. The irony was a bitter pill to swallow. After a year apart, there were a million things I wanted to say, but the words died in my throat. Jerry sighed, a sound of weary impatience. “Julia. Do you finally understand what you did wrong?” His voice was quiet, but each word was a shard of ice piercing my heart. The world started to spin, and my legs gave out from under me. For months, I had survived on scraps at the retreat. My body was a fragile wreck; I could barely stand for more than a few minutes. “Still with the theatrics?” He took an involuntary step toward me, his hand outstretched as if to help, but then he froze, a sneer twisting his lips. “You have a talent for drama. It’s a shame you’re not an actress. If it weren’t for Lila insisting I bring you back for our wedding, I wouldn’t even want to look at you.” A year ago. His beloved Lila had been in her perfume workshop when she’d accused me of knocking over a vial of volatile chemicals. She claimed the fumes had sent her to the ICU. Jerry’s face had been a storm cloud of fury. “Your heart is so toxic, Julia. How could you ever be fit to join my family? If you want to marry me, you’ll first do a stint at my private retreat in the countryside. They’ll help you reflect on what a monster you’ve become.” I was a Tasker. Ten years ago, a car accident had left me in a coma, a vegetable. A system chose me, transporting my consciousness into this world. My only way back to my real life, to my family, was to complete the mission: make Jerry Ewing agree to marry me. Now, after a year of torture, he was marrying his one true love. All my sacrifices, all my pain—it was all for nothing. In that moment, something inside me broke. Why should I keep fighting in this world that wasn’t mine? I looked up at the cold, untouchable man before me and let out a soft, defeated sigh. “Julia Vance knows her place now. I will never again presume to be worthy of the Ewing family.” [Host has voluntarily abandoned the mission. All traces of Host in both worlds will be annihilated in eight days.] Even though I’d expected this, a sharp pain lanced through my heart. I forced a brittle smile to my lips. “Congratulations, Mr. Ewing. To you and Miss Gray. May you have a long and happy life together.” He stiffened, clearly thrown by my words. The old me would have screamed, raged, and thrown the tantrum of a lifetime. But that girl was gone. Nothing mattered anymore. He stared at me, his eyes narrowed in disbelief. “Since you love to perform so much,” he said coldly, “I have another stage for you.” At his command, his men dragged me roughly to the private garden. They shoved me toward the grand fountain, ignoring my struggles as they doused me with freezing water. Someone grabbed my hair, forcing me to my knees on the icy marble. The laughter of the staff echoed around me. I felt the collar of my dress being pulled tighter, the sensation of choking, of drowning. My last defense shattered. A wild, broken laugh escaped my lips. I surged to my feet, wrenching myself from their grasp, and staggered into the center of the fountain. I tore off my sodden, clinging rags. I grabbed the decorative watercolors left by the edge and, in a frenzy, smeared the vibrant pigments all over my skin. Naked and painted, I stood in the heart of the fountain, meeting their shocked stares. You want to humiliate me? You want to see me shamed? Here I am. I looked directly at a stunned Jerry Ewing and screamed, “Are you satisfied now?” My defiance must have enraged him. His next order was to have me thrown into an abandoned factory on the outskirts of the city. He wanted to break me, to force me to beg for his forgiveness. But I didn’t care anymore. I only had eight days left. The air in the factory was thick with the smell of damp and decay. Moss crawled up the crumbling walls, and the scuttling of rats was the only sound. I thought it was a fitting place to end this meaningless life. I drifted into a hazy sleep. My mind took me back to that first day, before he sent me away. “Julia. Do you know what you did wrong?” Back then, I was still naive enough to think I held some small place in his heart. My jealousy had made me reckless. “What did I do wrong? You’re just biased! You always take her side!” I had screamed. I hadn’t touched that vial. Lila had set me up. He didn’t listen. He slapped me, hard, across the face. “You’re a spoiled brat,” he’d said, turning his back on me. “Perhaps some time at my retreat will teach you some humility.” He didn’t know. He didn’t know that what awaited me wasn’t therapy. It was a pack of wolves in human clothing. They descended on me… Three months later, Jerry appeared before me again. I refused to answer his questions. His face contorted with rage. “A few months in here and you’ve decided to play deaf and dumb? Still so stubborn?” He didn’t know that after he’d left the first time, the torment had begun. Day and night. My screams lasted all night. Eventually, they tired of the noise. They slapped me, over and over, calling me the filthiest woman on earth, until blood poured from my ear. I wanted to give up. But the thought of my family, waiting for me in my own world, was the only thing that kept me going. They locked me in an empty room. Then they stopped giving me food. They said if I was too weak, I wouldn’t have the energy to make such annoying sounds. But the torment… it never stopped. When I woke up again, I was in a familiar room. My family’s city home. A system prompt floated in my mind: Annihilation in six days. I had been unconscious for two. A figure moved toward me from across the room. A jolt of pure terror shot through me. I tried to scramble away, but a hand pressed me back down onto the bed. “Don’t be scared, Julia,” a sweet voice chirped. “It’s me, Lila.” She sat on the edge of my bed, her face a mask of innocent concern. In her hand, she held a small jar of medicated balm. “Don’t be afraid, silly,” she cooed, but her other hand shot out, her fingers closing around my wrist like a vise. I remembered the perfume workshop. How she’d deliberately knocked over the vial as I walked by, then collapsed, pretending to be poisoned, pointing her finger at me. I knew she hated me. She wanted Jerry for herself. Yet she always played the part of my dearest friend. Her pity was more poisonous than any chemical. Seeing my body tremble, a smirk played on her lips. “How will your wounds ever heal if you don’t let me put some ointment on them, Julia?” “Ah!” With the last of my strength, I shoved her away. “Agh!” To my shock, Lila flew backward, as if propelled by a great force. My push had been feeble; there was no way it could have sent her flying like that. The door burst open and Jerry rushed in, catching Lila just as she was about to fall. He looked at her with such tender concern, but when his eyes landed on me, they were filled with venom. “Julia! I thought a year of reflection might have changed you, but you’re still the same monster. Lila comes here out of the goodness of her heart to bring you medicine, and you attack her? I should have left you to rot in that place!” Lila melted into his arms, her voice a soft sob. “Jerry, don’t say that. Julia’s been through so much. She’s probably just not feeling well.” “She brought this on herself,” Jerry snarled. “Crawling around in the snow like a madwoman. Why couldn’t she just walk back on her own?” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. A fifty-kilometer mountain road, in my condition? “She had the best food, the best care at that retreat! Is she so spoiled she can’t handle a single word of criticism?” “If it weren’t for your soft heart, she wouldn’t even be here. Ungrateful bitch.” The best food? The best care? “The master is right,” Mr. Henderson chimed in from the doorway. “When we went to pick her up, she said she had gotten used to the retreat and looked down on the Ewing estate. If we hadn’t begged her, she wouldn’t have come back at all.” “I think you’re too soft on her, Master. Look at her now. Does she look the least bit remorseful?” I stared daggers at the butler. We had no history of animosity, yet he stood there, weaving a web of lies. Someone had clearly coached him. Jerry’s face flushed with anger. He yanked me from the bed. The half-healed wounds on my body tore open again, and a low groan of pain escaped my lips. He gripped my arm, forcing me to stand, the agony twisting my features. He ignored my pain, his grip tightening. “Lila came to help you, and this is how you treat her? Was life at the retreat so comfortable that you’ve forgotten your place?” “If Lila hadn’t pleaded for you, you wouldn’t have the right to even stand in my presence! You’re not weak, you’re just an actress. How long are you going to keep up this charade?” “Lila is nothing but kind to you, and you repay her with this? Do you even have a heart?” He shoved me back onto the bed and stormed out of the room, pulling Lila with him. As she left, Lila glanced back over her shoulder, a triumphant, mocking smile on her face. I knew what she was flaunting. The man I had chased for a decade was now hers, effortlessly. Fine. She could have him. My time in this world was almost over anyway. My father, hearing I was back, rushed to see me. Seeing the silver in his hair, I couldn’t stop the tears. He wasn’t my father from my world, but his love for me was real. I was his only child, and he had always cherished me. Now, look what I had become. He wrapped me in a tight embrace, but as his hands brushed against the raw scars on my back, he recoiled. His eyes filled with anguish as he gently traced a long, deep wound. “Julia… your injuries! What in God’s name happened to you?” Through my tears, I managed a bitter smile. “It’s nothing, Dad. I brought it on myself.” My father’s face contorted with rage. He smashed his water glass on the floor and immediately took me to the hospital. Jerry and Lila, hearing the news, followed us there. When the test results came back, the doctor looked at us, his expression a mixture of shock and confusion. His next words sent a shockwave through the room. “Julia… she’s pregnant.”

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Julian Croft demanded my kidney to save the woman he’d always loved—the ghost of a past he could never escape. He didn’t care that I was newly pregnant with his child. There, on the deck of his gleaming yacht, with the whole world watching, he destroyed me. “You were always just a stand-in,” he said, his voice cutting through the night air. “Your only purpose was her.” My hand instinctively flew to my belly, a desperate shield for the life he’d just condemned. A broken, bitter laugh escaped my lips. “Loving you, Julian,” I said, my voice shaking with the force of my shattered heart, “was the greatest regret of my life.” And with his name as a curse on my tongue, I threw myself into the black, unforgiving sea. He wanted my kidney. He could dream on. Chapter 1 The crystal flutes of champagne on the grand yacht felt like ice against my feverish skin. Julian Croft, my Julian, had his arm locked around my waist, a possessive anchor in a sea of glittering philanthropists and corporate sharks. He led me to the small stage at the center of the deck, the Miami skyline a dazzling, indifferent backdrop against the night. His voice, amplified by the microphone, was the smooth, confident baritone that had first ensnared me three years ago. “Thank you all for joining us tonight. As the head of the Croft Corporation, it’s my honor to host this charity gala. But tonight, I have a more… personal announcement to make.” My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic bird against its cage. This is it, I thought, a dizzying wave of hope washing over me. After all the waiting, all the whispered promises in the dark. This is the moment it all becomes real. Julian turned to me. His eyes—usually a clear, piercing blue—were clouded with an emotion I couldn’t decipher. It looked terrifyingly like regret. “You all know Elara Vance,” he continued, his gaze sweeping over the silent, expectant crowd. “For three years, she has been the quiet strength at my side, supporting my vision.” He paused, letting the weight of his words settle like a shroud. “Tonight, she will demonstrate that selflessness once more.” I blinked, a knot of confusion tightening in my gut. Selflessness? What is he talking about? “An old and dear friend of mine, Miss Seraphina Thorne, is in dire need.” His voice was low, laced with a gravity that sent a chill through my very bones. “Her life is in jeopardy. She needs a kidney transplant. After extensive testing, we discovered a perfect match.” The world tilted on its axis. A roaring filled my ears, drowning out the gentle lap of the waves against the hull. I took an involuntary step back, the movement clumsy and graceless. “Julian… what are you saying?” My voice was a choked whisper. He ignored me, his focus entirely on his audience. “As the centerpiece of this evening’s charitable endeavors, I am proud to announce that Elara Vance has agreed to donate one of her kidneys to Miss Seraphina Thorne. The surgery is scheduled for this coming Monday.” A wave of applause erupted, a thunderous roar of approval for a sacrifice I had never agreed to make. The faces around me blurred into a kaleidoscope of polite smiles and admiring glances. I felt as though I’d been struck. “Julian, are you insane?” I hissed, grabbing his arm. “You want me to give my kidney to her?” His eyes finally met mine, and they were as cold and unforgiving as a winter sea. “This isn’t a discussion, Elara,” he said, his voice dropping so only I could hear. “It’s a notification.” “I won’t do it!” I shot back, my voice rising with panic and rage. “What gives you the right to make this decision for me?” His gaze sharpened, cutting through me like a shard of glass. “The right? The fact that you’re her stand-in, Elara. You exist for her. That was always the arrangement.” Chapter 2 The words weren’t just a knife; they were the deliberate, twisting turn of the blade in an open wound. I knew, of course, about the ghost in his past, the woman whose shadow fell over every corner of our lives. But to hear him say it so bluntly—that I was nothing more than a placeholder… the pain was a physical thing, a crushing weight on my chest. “So that’s all this was?” I whispered, the fight draining out of me, replaced by a hollow, cavernous ache. “Three years. Was I just a substitute?” He didn’t have to answer. His silence was a confession, more brutal than any words could ever be. Just then, a figure emerged from the crowd and glided onto the stage. Seraphina Thorne. She was exactly as I’d imagined—ethereal, fragile, with wide, doe-like eyes that radiated a practiced innocence. “Julian, darling, don’t be so harsh,” she said, her voice a soft, manipulative melody. She placed a delicate hand on his arm. “If Miss Vance is unwilling, it’s alright. I can wait for another donor.” I shot her a glare, my voice dripping with ice. “You don’t look like someone in desperate need of a transplant.” A flicker of panic crossed her features before being swiftly replaced by a mask of heartbreaking vulnerability. “The doctors… they say I might not have more than a month.” Julian squeezed her hand, his protective gaze fixed on her before turning back to me, his expression hard as granite. “Elara, you have no choice. Pack a bag. You’ll be at the hospital tomorrow for pre-operative tests.” I looked directly into his cold, unfeeling eyes and played my final card. “I can’t have the surgery,” I said, my voice clear and steady despite the tremor in my soul. “I’m pregnant.” A hush fell over the gala. Every eye was on us. Julian’s face went rigid. For a single, fleeting moment, something unreadable flickered in his eyes—shock? Fear? It was gone as quickly as it came. After a beat of suffocating silence, he spoke. “Then it’s for the best. That child should never have existed in the first place.” That was it. The last, fragile thread of hope I’d been clinging to snapped. Three years of my life, my love, my devotion… all for this. For nothing. “You’re a monster, Julian,” I choked out. Spinning on my heel, I shoved through the stunned guests, ignoring their gasps and murmurs. I ran, my only thought to escape the suffocating weight of his cruelty. I fled toward the yacht’s railing, toward the vast, dark emptiness of the ocean. “Elara, get back here!” Julian’s furious roar followed me, along with the sound of panicked commotion. I scrambled onto the railing, the wind whipping my gown around me. I turned to face him as he skidded to a halt. A bitter, broken smile touched my lips. “Tell me, Julian,” I asked, my voice cutting through the wind. “Did you ever, for even a moment, love me?” His composure finally cracked. A flicker of turmoil crossed his face before the mask of indifference slammed back into place. “It doesn’t matter,” he said, his voice strained. “Your purpose was always for Seraphina.” I laughed, a sound raw and despairing. Seraphina drifted closer, her face a perfect portrait of concern. “Miss Vance, please don’t do something foolish. Julian is just worried about me. Come down.” “Shut up!” I screamed, the venom in my voice making her flinch. “You think I can’t see your pathetic act? You’re not sick. You’ve never been sick, have you?” Her face paled. She shot a panicked look at Julian. “Julian, she’s lost her mind.” He took a cautious step forward, his hands raised in a placating gesture. “Elara, stop this.” Looking at him then, at his cold, handsome face, I felt a sudden, chilling clarity. It was all so laughable. Three years of my life, wasted on a man who couldn’t see past the ghost of a manipulative woman playing pretend. I took a deep breath, the salt spray cool on my face. “Julian Croft,” I said, my voice ringing with a devastating finality, “the greatest regret of my life is that I ever loved you.” And with that, I let go. I tilted backward, surrendering myself to the black, churning water below. “NO!” A guttural, soul-shattering roar tore from Julian’s throat. He lunged, his fingers grasping at empty air as I fell. As the icy shock of the Atlantic consumed me, a single, burning vow formed in my mind. If I survive this, I will make them pay. I will make them both pay for everything. Chapter 3 I didn’t die. I was pulled from the merciless grip of the ocean by Damian Kade, the enigmatic CEO of Kade Pharmaceuticals, whose boat had been passing nearby. Five years. Five years is a long time. Long enough for a broken woman named Elara Vance to perish and for Eris, one of the world’s most celebrated jewelry designers, to be born from her ashes. Now, it was time for my encore. I stood at the entrance to the International Business Summit Gala, my hand resting on Damian’s arm. The deep red of my gown was the color of vengeance. “Ready?” Damian murmured, his voice a low vibration beside my ear. I inclined my head, a slow, deliberate smile spreading across my lips. “Five years in the making, Damian. The curtain is finally going up.” We entered the ballroom, a grand space teeming with the world’s financial elite. My eyes scanned the crowd until they found him. Julian Croft. He stood in a small circle of men, looking older, harder, but just as commanding. I plucked a glass of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray and began to move in his direction, my path casual, indirect. As I drew near, I “accidentally” caught my heel on the hem of my dress, stumbling with a small, theatrical gasp. A server nearby steadied me. “Ma’am, are you alright?” The small commotion was enough. It drew the attention of those nearby, including Julian. I straightened up, offering a polite smile. “Thank you, I’m fine.” The moment Julian’s eyes landed on my face, I saw it. The fractional widening of his pupils. The sudden tension in his jaw. The wine glass in his hand trembled. He excused himself and moved toward me, his gaze locked on mine. The hatred that surged through me was a cold, pure fire. I banked it, forcing a serene, slightly curious smile. “Excuse me, sir,” I said, my voice smooth as silk. “Have we met?” “Julian Croft,” he managed, his voice rough. His eyes searched my face, desperately looking for a trace of the woman he had destroyed. But five years, a new country, and a subtle surgeon had changed me. I was a ghost wearing a familiar-ish face. My smile widened. “Mr. Croft. A pleasure. I’ve heard of your work. I’m Eris.” Just then, Damian arrived at my side. I looped my arm through his, leaning against him with an air of easy intimacy. “And this is my husband, Damian Kade.” Damian extended a hand, his expression coolly polite. “Mr. Croft. A pleasure.” Julian looked from Damian to me, his eyes now glacial. As their hands met, I saw a faint tremor in Julian’s. A flicker of satisfaction warmed me. “If you’ll excuse us, Mr. Croft,” I said, “we have some people to see.” As Damian and I turned to leave, Julian’s hand shot out, his fingers closing around my wrist. The touch was like a brand. “Miss Eris,” he said, his voice low and intense. “Is there another name you’ve gone by? Perhaps… Elara?” Chapter 4 I gently extricated my wrist from his grasp, my expression one of polite confusion. “I’m afraid you’ve mistaken me for someone else, Mr. Croft,” I said smoothly. “I’ve lived in Europe my entire life. This month is my first time back in the States.” Without giving him a chance to press further, I turned and walked away, Damian’s hand a steady presence at the small of my back. For the rest of the evening, I felt Julian’s eyes on me, a relentless, burning gaze. I made sure to give him a good show, laughing intimately with Damian, touching his arm, projecting the perfect image of a happily married woman. As the gala began to wind down, the side doors of the ballroom burst open. A small boy, no older than four, came running in, his dark hair flying. He made a beeline straight for me. “Mommy!” he cried, his voice clear and bright. I knelt, catching him in my arms as Julian watched from across the room, his face a mask of stunned disbelief. A small, triumphant smile played on my lips, hidden by the boy’s embrace. Later, as Damian drove us away, a figure emerged from the shadows. Julian. He ran to the car, rapping his knuckles sharply on the tinted window. “Eris! We need to talk!” His voice was ragged, desperate. The window slid down silently, revealing my impassive profile. “Is there a problem, Mr. Croft?” His eyes darted from me to the child in the backseat. “That boy,” he began, his voice cracking. “Is he…” Damian cut him off, his tone laced with steel. “You seem to have a great deal of interest in my son, Croft.” Julian’s face darkened. A smirk touched my lips. “If that’s all, Mr. Croft, we really must be going.” The window glided up, sealing him out. The black sedan pulled away, leaving Julian standing alone in the cool night air, looking like a man who had seen a ghost. Damian glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “The plan is working perfectly. He’s already questioning Leo’s parentage.” I looked down, stroking my son’s soft hair as he slept. “Yes,” I said softly. “So perfectly it’s almost unsettling.” “Don’t worry,” Damian’s voice was a warm, steady anchor. “Whatever happens, I’m with you.” I closed my eyes, leaning my head back against the plush leather. The gears of my revenge were turning. The agony Julian Croft had inflicted upon me would be returned to him, piece by agonizing piece. Chapter 5 To confirm his suspicions, Julian invested in my jewelry brand. At the signing ceremony, I extended my hand, my smile a carefully constructed work of art. “Mr. Croft, I had no idea you had an interest in haute couture jewelry.” His hand closed over mine, the contact brief but charged with a nervous energy I could feel. His pale eyes held a practiced smile. “Miss Eris, I’m particularly fascinated by the philosophy behind your ‘Rebirth’ collection.” My own smile tightened for a fraction of a second. “The ‘Rebirth’ collection was born from a period of significant personal upheaval,” I explained coolly. “It explores the relationship between destruction and new beginnings.” He leaned forward, his curiosity a palpable force. “Could you elaborate on this… upheaval?” I offered him a polite, distant smile. “My apologies, but that’s a private matter.” For the next half hour, we discussed business, but I felt his gaze drift repeatedly to my right wrist. He was looking for the faint, silvery scar from a childhood accident—a scar I’d had a plastic surgeon erase two years ago. After the contracts were signed, he asked, “Miss Eris, would you do me the honor of joining me for dinner?” “I’m sorry,” I replied, my tone professionally apologetic. “I have to pick up my son from preschool. Perhaps another time.” At the mention of my son, Julian’s expression shifted. “How old is he?” I paused as if calculating. “He’s four.” As I left, I saw his face in profile. His eyes were downcast, his features etched with a profound and complicated sorrow. The next morning, while I was sketching in my studio, Damian burst in. “He did it,” he said, slightly out of breath. “Julian went to Leo’s preschool. He had someone retrieve a straw Leo used.” I put down my charcoal pencil. “The fish has taken the bait,” I said calmly. “Is everything arranged?” Damian nodded, a grim smile on his face.

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I’d made Caleb angry. So angry that nothing I did could fix it. Even when I told him I was sick, he wasn’t worried like he used to be. After I got off the train, I called him. “Caleb? I’m in Seaport City for a heart check-up. Can you… can you take me to the hospital?” His voice was a razor’s edge. “Your heart condition was fixed years ago. Leo, stop playing the victim!” A dull ache bloomed in my chest. “It’s just a follow-up,” I whispered. He let out a cold laugh. “Fine. You wait there.” I curled up in a corner of the train station and waited. And waited. Until my heart gradually slowed to a stop. And Caleb… he never came. 01 Before I closed my eyes for the last time, I never imagined I would die so suddenly, so unceremoniously, in a train station waiting hall. All I felt then was a deep, pulling drowsiness. I’ll just rest for a little while, I thought. Just a little while, and then I would see Caleb. I pictured him standing over me, scolding me for not staying put at home, for running off to Seaport City to cause more trouble. I slowly closed my eyes, rehearsing my excuses for needing him to take me to the hospital. Because you were always the one who took me to my appointments. Because all the registration info is on your phone. Because if the doctors ask about my childhood surgery, you know the details better than I do. Yes, that was it. It had nothing to do with how much I missed you. Nothing at all. But when I opened my eyes again, I saw my own body, slumped in the corner of the loud, crowded waiting hall. My head was tilted against the wall, my eyelashes resting peacefully on my cheeks, perfectly still. As if I were just sleeping. Suddenly, my phone vibrated, slipping from my hand and clattering to the floor. I reached for it instinctively, but my hand passed right through it, grasping at nothing. I stared at my translucent fingertips. My mind, slow and thick, finally processed the truth. I was already dead. I had died quietly, invisibly, in the middle of a bustling train station. Died while waiting for Caleb to come and get me. The phone screen lit up, displaying a message Caleb had sent a minute ago. [Still waiting?] [Guess that proves you’re not sick at all.] [Leo, you lied again.] I didn’t lie. I said the words, but no sound came out. It was real. I wasn’t feeling well. I was born with a congenital heart defect, which was surgically corrected when I was six. But for the past three months, the dull ache in my chest had returned, along with occasional bouts of cyanosis—my lips and fingertips turning blue from lack of oxygen. If this had happened before… that incident, Caleb would have been frantic with worry. He would have rushed me to the hospital without a second thought. But he didn’t trust me anymore. He was convinced I was a manipulator, someone who would do anything to get what I wanted. Because I’d been frail my whole life, Caleb had become a surrogate parent by the time he was a teenager. He was mature, serious, and meticulously protective. He worried if I might get hurt, if I might catch a chill. He controlled the thermostat in my room, the layers of clothes I wore when I went out. A single cough, a slight frown from me, and he would be on high alert. I basked in his attention, his care. I was spoiled by it. I would cling to his side and declare petulantly, “I’m never getting married.” Then I’d wrap my arms around his waist, squeezing tight. “And you’re not allowed to get married either, Caleb. You have to stay with me forever!” He would just laugh and ruffle my hair, his voice soft. “Don’t be ridiculous.” But then, seeing my pout, he’d quickly relent. “Alright, alright. I’ll wait until after you’re married. How about that?” I wouldn’t say anything. I’d just tilt my head back and gaze at him, wishing that moment could last forever, but also secretly hoping for something to change. Something did change. Just not in the way I’d imagined. I should have looked at you longer then, I thought, staring at my own corpse. I never even got to see him one last time. People streamed past me, their suitcases rattling on the floor, but no one gave my body a second glance. A person sleeping in a waiting room was the most normal thing in the world. Just then, I saw a small hand reach down and pick up my phone. 02 It was the little girl who had been sitting next to me. While I was still conscious, we had chatted for a bit and exchanged nicknames. She called me “the pretty boy,” and I called her “cutie-pie.” Cutie-pie looked at the lit-up screen, seeming to read the messages. But at only five years old, she didn’t know many words. She frowned, then looked at me with her big, serious eyes for a long moment. Finally, she placed the phone back in my hand. “Pretty boy,” she whispered, as if not to wake me, “you dropped your phone. You should hold it tight.” When I didn’t respond, she scampered back to her mother’s arms. A few minutes later, the phone buzzed again. Caleb’s name flashed on the screen. [I’m at City General already.] [If you want to come, take a cab yourself.] But you told me to wait. Why aren’t you coming? A sudden thought struck me. Is Caleb the one who’s sick? The thought propelled me upwards. My spirit shot through the air, and in an instant, I was at City General Hospital. The first person I saw was Caleb. He was wearing a dark gray, bespoke suit, his back to me as he stood by a glass wall, talking on the phone. He looked as handsome and composed as ever, completely unshaken. I floated closer, planning to give him a little scare, when I heard him say, “The doctor is examining Finn now. It should be nothing serious, don’t worry.” Finn? What’s he doing here? The next second, the door to the examination room opened. Caleb hung up and walked over. “Are you okay?” he asked the person who came out. “Caleb, the doctor said I’m fine,” Finn said, grabbing Caleb’s hand and frowning. “But I still feel sick. Will you stay with me?” That drama queen. He’s faking it! I thought, so furious I could have screamed. I swooped forward to throttle him, but my hands passed straight through his neck. I was trapped between them as I saw Caleb’s lips curve into the faintest of smiles. “Of course,” he said, his voice gentle. Caleb was tall and built, with sharp features and intense, cold eyes. When he wasn’t speaking, he had an intimidating air about him. But whenever he smiled at me, I felt he was the kindest person in the world. He hadn’t smiled at me in a long time. “But,” Caleb’s gentle expression faded slightly. “Leo is coming over later. I need to be here for his heart check-up.” A flash of resentment crossed Finn’s face before he quickly masked it with a smile. “Caleb, you’re the best, kindest person I know. Leo isn’t even your real brother, and after how he lied to you, you’re still so good to him.” The mention of me seemed to trigger something in Caleb. His face darkened. “This is the last time,” he said. “If he ever pulls a stunt like this again, I’m done with him.” I hovered in the middle of the stark white corridor. A cold draft from the window passed right through me. Strange. Why does my heart still hurt? “It really is the last time,” I murmured to the empty air. “Caleb.” “I won’t bother you again…” Because I think I’m already dead. Finn, satisfied with Caleb’s answer, tugged his arm toward the exit. Before they reached the door, Caleb’s phone rang. I floated to his side as he answered. “Hello, Mr. Kane,” a voice on the other end said. “I was wondering, have you heard from Leo?” 03 “Leo is no longer my brother.” Recognizing the voice, Caleb’s brow furrowed in annoyance. “I hope you’ll stop using him as an excuse to contact my family.” The caller was my birth mother. Maybe it was the illness, or maybe it was the guilt, but she was silent for a moment before her voice came back, weak and choked with tears. “It was my fault. I never should have… switched Leo and Finn all those years ago. But Leo is innocent. Can’t you… can’t you treat him like you used to?” It was a cliché straight out of a soap opera. I was the wrong son, the cuckoo in the Kane family’s nest. I was born with a severe congenital heart defect. My birth mother, afraid I wouldn’t survive, had secretly swapped me with the Kanes’ newborn son. It wasn’t until she was diagnosed with terminal lung cancer that she confessed the truth. She had dragged Finn to the gates of the Kane estate, kneeling and sobbing. “I was wrong! And now I’m paying for it! I’m giving Finn back to you… please, just let me see Leo. He’s my real son!” But when she finally saw me, she’d said, “The Kanes paid for your treatment, so you didn’t lose out. You had twenty years of luxury. Now it’s Finn’s turn.” I wasn’t hurt. She was right, after all. The second night after Finn moved in, he came to my room, feigning reconciliation. He said he would beg our—his—parents to let me stay. Like a fool, I blushed and told him, “I want to stay too. But… not as Caleb’s brother anymore.” And so, I confessed to Caleb. I told him I was both heartbroken and relieved. I told him I’d known for years that what I felt for him was far more than brotherly affection. I told him I wanted to be with him forever. I watched him, my heart pounding with a mix of terror and hope. But his face was a mask of cold disappointment. “Hah,” he sneered. “Be with me forever? You mean you want to stay in the Kane family and live a life of comfort forever.” He pulled a small voice recorder from his pocket. My voice filled the air, speaking words I’d said to Finn the day before. But they were all wrong. It was my voice, but twisted into something ugly. “I have a way to stay. If I can get with Caleb, the Kanes will never kick me out. I was always so close to him on purpose. Now, it’s finally time to use him.” The wail of an ambulance siren outside the hospital doors ripped me from my memory. An ER doctor rushed past, accidentally bumping into Caleb. “Sorry,” the doctor said over his shoulder. “Got a cardiac arrest coming in, sorry for bumping you.” Caleb paused for a second, then shook his head, accepting the apology. He turned his attention back to the phone. “You want me to treat him like I used to? You mean watch him pretend to be innocent and pitiful while he uses me all over again?” A cruel laugh escaped his lips. “I guess cheap tricks run in the family. Otherwise, how could he even think of confessing to his own brother?” A nurse’s voice suddenly cut in from the background of the call. “Bed 3, if you don’t pay the hospital bill, we’re going to have to stop her medication…” Caleb heard it, and his voice became hard with certainty. “He didn’t come here for a check-up. He came to get money from me for you, didn’t he?” Without waiting for an answer, he hung up. He immediately opened his messages and started typing. [Leo, don’t bother coming.] [I’m not giving you a single cent.] I didn’t come for your money. I’ll never ask you for money again. Even though I knew he couldn’t see me, I took a step back. I wanted to put some distance between us. Because I could feel it. He truly, deeply disliked me. So much that he could only imagine me as the worst kind of person. “He’s not coming. Let’s go.” When he got no reply from me, Caleb stalked out of the building, fuming. As he got into the car, the ambulance screamed past them, pulling up to the entrance. A gurney, covered by a white sheet, was wheeled inside. Caleb saw it in the rearview mirror, frowned, and looked away. The Rolls-Royce began to move, but just as it reached the hospital gate, the driver stopped. Someone was knocking on the rear window. Caleb lowered it to see the same ER doctor who had bumped into him earlier. “Can I help you?” he asked. 04 “Excuse me, I think this might be yours?” The doctor held out a cufflink. Matte platinum framing a perfectly cut piece of black onyx. It was the birthday gift I had given Caleb last year. He recognized it instantly. “Yes, it is.” He took it. “Sorry about that,” the doctor said. “It must have caught on my coat when I bumped into you. It fell right into my pocket.” Caleb closed his fist around the cufflink, nodded his thanks, and raised the window. The car moved on. On the way, Finn chattered away, trying to make conversation. Caleb was mostly silent, offering only short, clipped replies. The hand holding the cufflink never opened. I sat on the far side of the back seat, looking past the babbling Finn at Caleb’s profile. I wondered if he was remembering his birthday last year. The cufflinks were from a famous independent designer, and they were absurdly expensive. I wanted to buy them with my own money, so for six months before his birthday, I had worked day and night, painting and selling every piece I could create. At the stroke of midnight, I snuck into his room. He was frowning over a financial report, but his face broke into a smile the moment he saw me. “Be serious. No smiling,” I commanded, standing before him. I ordered him to close his eyes. He obeyed, but the corners of his mouth were still turned up, refusing to be contained. The room was silent. I stared at his handsome face and felt my mind go blank. My ears roared with a sound I couldn’t place—his heartbeat, or mine. “Leo?” Caleb’s voice was soft. He must have gotten tired of waiting. Flustered, I thrust the velvet box into his hands. “You can open your eyes now.” He opened it, and his surprise was genuine and bright. “Help me put them on,” he said with a grin. I took one out, but my fingertips were trembling. I shoved the box and the cufflink back into his hands, mumbled, “Happy birthday,” and fled from the room. Back in my own bed, my mind replayed the scene over and over. One moment I was sure I hadn’t hidden my feelings well enough, the next I was convinced I’d acted like a clumsy child. A soft knock came at my door. Caleb came in, pulled me out from under the covers, and said fondly, “What are you running for?” I looked up at him, wanting to say, You have no idea, but the words wouldn’t come. He handed me a large gift box. Inside was a custom set of paints I had wanted for ages, along with a vintage paintbrush. Either one was worth far more than the cufflinks. Outside, the spring night air of Seaport City drifted in, carrying the rich, heady scent of magnolia blossoms. It was so thick it felt like it was smothering me. “Do you like it?” Caleb asked, playfully messing up my hair. His eyelashes cast long shadows on his cheeks. His gaze was so pure, so unguarded. “I love it,” I whispered. The Rolls-Royce pulled into the Kane estate, driving down the long, tree-lined lane to the main house. Mom was waiting at the door. “How is he? Is Finn alright?” she asked, her face etched with worry. Caleb assured her he was fine. Finn put on his act again, clinging to Mom and complaining that he still felt awful. She offered a few awkward words of comfort before sending him off to rest. But Mom’s worried expression didn’t fade. “Mom, is something wrong?” Caleb asked. She pressed a hand to her chest. “I know Finn is fine, but… my heart is racing. I have this terrible feeling.” “Do you think… do you think something’s happened to Leo? The place he’s staying now… it might be cold. That’s not good for his heart. Caleb, please, will you go and bring him home?”

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1 At Travis White’s twenty-eighth birthday gala, someone presented him with another woman, right in front of me. In that moment, I shed my years of gentle compliance, shattered my wineglass, and brought his birthday party crashing down around us. Then I packed my bags and walked out of our home, alone. Everyone said the powerless Mrs. White wouldn’t last three days before she came crawling back, tail between her legs. Travis was unconcerned. “She’s an orphan. Without the White family, where could she possibly go?” But countless sets of three days passed. People began to wonder if I had died somewhere, forgotten. That was when Travis finally called. The number was disconnected. Later, at a renowned artist’s gallery opening, a portrait of a woman in profile stopped Travis White in his tracks. He offered a fortune to buy the painting. The artist, Leo Baker, simply smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry, but that’s the best portrait I’ve ever painted of my wife. I can’t part with it.” … It was Travis White’s twenty-eighth birthday party. I wore my most exquisite gown, my arm linked through his as we made our grand entrance. The moment we reached the bottom of the staircase, he released me, leaving me standing there as the tide of the party flowed past. Every eye in the room followed Travis. I was forgotten in a corner. Guests presented him with gifts, one after another. He would give a detached nod, signaling for the butler to take them away. This continued until one guest stepped forward with a beautiful young woman. Suddenly, all eyes were on me again. Pity. Amusement. Scorn. I had grown accustomed to the weight of those gazes over the years. Travis’s normally stoic face flickered with a brief, unguarded expression. The woman was a dead ringer for his first love, Lydia, the one he’d lost. “Presenting me with a woman in front of my wife,” Travis said, a mocking smile playing on his lips. “You’ve got some nerve.” The gift-giver chuckled obsequiously. “Mrs. White is a generous woman. I’m sure she won’t mind.” It wasn’t that I wouldn’t mind. It was that they knew I didn’t dare to mind. An orphan raised by the White family fortune—how could I possibly say “no” to its new master? Travis toyed with the wedding band on his finger, his eyes glinting. “Well, since my wife has no objections, take her…” Before he could finish, I strode to his side. I looked at the woman’s face. The man had done his homework; he knew exactly what Travis desired. And in that instant, a profound weariness washed over me, bone-deep and final. I realized I no longer had the strength to play the part of the dignified Mrs. White, to honor the promise I made to his grandmother. With a gentle push, I sent the champagne tower behind me to its doom. The beautiful crystal pyramid swayed, then collapsed with a deafening crash. Glass and champagne sprayed across the marble floor, throwing the elegant party into chaos. “Mrs. White has lost her mind!” someone shrieked. I had ruined Travis’s birthday. He didn’t seem to care. The butler was already escorting the guests out, and the staff was quietly cleaning up the mess. The beautiful woman, however, remained. She stood silently by Travis’s side, her serene demeanor a perfect echo of Lydia’s. The contrast made me look even more unhinged. Travis idly played with the woman’s fingers, his gaze drifting to me. “Why so angry?” he asked, his tone maddeningly casual. “If you don’t want to see her, I’ll have her stay somewhere else. Don’t worry,” he added, “I swore to my grandmother that I would never take away your position as Mrs. White.” The woman beside him chimed in, her voice soft and placating. “Mrs. White, there’s no need to be upset. A man like Mr. White is bound to have more than one woman. I only admire him; I have no intention of threatening your status.” I slipped the ring from my finger and placed it on the table in front of Travis. He raised an eyebrow. “Here’s your ring back.” He plucked the ring from the table, tossing it casually into the air. The diamond caught the light in a brilliant arc before falling back into his palm. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he threw it to the woman behind him. “It’s yours. A million-dollar ring, and Mrs. White doesn’t want it.” Travis stood, a cold sneer on his face, and addressed the butler. “Find the madam some tutors. Teach her some etiquette. I don’t want to witness such a disgraceful display ever again.” He walked a few steps, then paused and turned back. He pulled his own wedding band from his finger and tossed it onto the floor. It rolled across the marble, coming to a stop at my feet. “If you don’t want the rings, then let’s get rid of them both.” Travis left with the woman. The roar of his car’s engine was sharp and final in the night air. The butler, Mr. Hobbs, sighed beside me. “Madam, why must you provoke him? You know he holds a grudge against you.” I picked up the ring at my feet and dropped it into a nearby trash can. “You should get back to your duties, Mr. Hobbs. You don’t need to worry about me.” He sighed again and left. I went upstairs alone and changed out of the elaborate gown, pulling on a simple white t-shirt. I found my suitcase and methodically packed my half of the closet, the clear line between his clothes and mine making it an easy task. When other couples fought, they had to consider divorce settlements and lawyers. But the connection between Travis and me was so thin, it amounted to nothing more than a pair of matching rings. No one would ever believe that the bride and groom of the city’s most sensational wedding of the century never even signed a marriage license. I still remembered what Travis had said to me on our wedding day. “The only name that belongs on that line next to mine is Lydia’s. Charlotte, you never should have married me.” But what could I do? I married him anyway. I married the man I had loved for seven years, through all my girlhood dreams, believing that one day I could win his heart. Instead, I became the hollow figure everyone knew as Mrs. White, a wife in name only. The mansion was silent as I dragged my suitcase to the door. It felt just like the rainy night his grandmother had first brought me here. A thirteen-year-old Travis had stood on the grand staircase, looking down at me with cold, indifferent eyes. Then he had turned, gone to the kitchen, and returned with a glass of warm milk. I booked a flight. Six hours in the air, three more in a car, and I was back in the small, remote southern town of my childhood. They say the old yearn to return to their roots. But a person with no home yearns for them even more, even if there’s no family left to welcome you. I rented a small cottage with a little yard. The local dialect felt both familiar and foreign. I was young when I left, and my years in Northwood City had scrubbed the accent from my tongue. Fortunately, the man in the cottage next door was an outsider too, though he’d arrived before me. He’d helped me at the market one day when I couldn’t understand the old woman selling vegetables. The next day, I made him a sweet corn cake to thank him. That’s when I learned he was an artist, here to paint the local scenery. He had the easy, vibrant energy of a recent college graduate. Away from the people and pressures of Northwood, in this simple, rustic place, it hit me: I was only twenty-five years old. But living in the White mansion, constantly upholding the posture of “Mrs. White,” had made me feel ancient and weary. I bought flowers from the street and filled my small yard with climbing roses. I put a little rocking chair next to the flowerbed. It was modest, but it was all mine. The gardens at the White estate were filled with yellow roses, Lydia’s favorite. The glass conservatory housed an expensive grand piano that Travis had designed for her. No one was allowed to touch it. His grandmother had once threatened to rip out the roses. Travis had exploded in a rare fit of rage. “If the roses go, I go with them.” No one ever mentioned it again. Lydia and her roses became sacred, untouchable ground. That afternoon, there was a knock on my gate. It was Leo Baker, dressed in a hoodie with a backpack slung over his shoulder. He grinned when he saw me. “Hey, Charlotte! I’m heading up the mountain to paint the sunrise tomorrow. Want to come along? Get some fresh air?” He pointed to the peak rising behind our cottages. I knew the mountain was something of a local landmark, the main draw for tourists. I was tempted. “Don’t worry! I go camping all the time. I’m an expert, it’s totally safe.” His enthusiasm was infectious, and I found myself nodding. Leo was true to his word. He immediately went back to his cottage and returned with another large pack. He carried both sets of camping gear himself, along with his easel and art supplies. I tried to help, but he flatly refused. “I’m strong. This is nothing.” On the way up the trail, we talked about our pasts and our futures. My past felt dull and predictable, a story that revolved entirely around the White family and Travis, culminating in my empty title as his wife. But Leo was different. He was a wellspring of fresh stories and boundless dreams for the future. “Life is all about the experience, right? My dream right now is to be a famous painter, so I have to give it my all,” he said. “And, between you and me, I kind of ran away from home. So if you wake up one day and my cottage is empty, it probably means my family finally caught me.” I laughed. It turned out we were both fugitives. The only difference was that he had a family who would come looking for him. My disappearance would probably be a cause for celebration for Travis. We reached the summit just as the sun was beginning to set. The warm, golden light bathed everything in an ethereal glow. I looked down at the small town below, nestled in the valley, peaceful and serene under the blanket of light. Leo was already busy setting up the tents. “The sunset is beautiful too,” I said. “Aren’t you going to paint it?” “I prefer the sunrise,” he replied. “Every day is a new beginning. It represents infinite possibility, new life.” I sat on the camp stool he’d set out, watching him work, his words echoing in my mind. A new beginning. Leaving the White estate was the bravest thing I had ever done. But afterward, I had acted like a coward, running back to this remote town and hiding myself away in my little cottage. I hadn’t given a single thought to what came next. Was I just going to wither away here for the rest of my life? I was only twenty-five. My future was still full of infinite possibilities. Leo finished with the tents and handed me some food and water. He plopped down on a mat beside me, hands behind his head, and stared up at the newly-starred sky. “You should try looking at the stars like this, Charlotte. It’s a totally different feeling.” At the White mansion, I was bound by a thousand rules of etiquette. Everything I did had to befit the status of Mrs. White. The phrase I heard most often was, “Madam, you cannot do that.” Lying on the ground to watch the stars was something I had never even considered. Leo didn’t give me time to think about it. He reached out, grabbed my arm, and pulled. In a second, I was off the stool and on the mat beside him. “Lie down!” he urged. I let go of my inhibitions and did as he said. Lying on my back, the sky seemed to press down, so close I felt I could reach out and touch the stars. We lay there for hours, talking about everything and nothing. And as we talked, I made a decision. I had to be brave. I had to step out into the world. Running away was just another form of hiding. I needed to meet new people, see the vast world outside my gilded cage, until the day came when I could stand face-to-face with Travis and feel nothing at all. Sometime in the night, I fell into a deep, peaceful sleep. Curled up in a simple tent on a mountainside, I felt more secure than I ever had in my life. When I stumbled out of the tent in the morning, groggy with sleep, Leo was already at his easel, his expression focused and serious. The sun climbed slowly over the horizon, its gentle rays warming my skin. I watched it rise, feeling like I was witnessing my own new beginning. “Charlotte! Don’t move!” Leo’s excited voice startled me. I froze, only able to watch him out of the corner of my eye. He was using me as his model. When he was finished, I rubbed my stiff neck. Being a muse was harder than it looked. “Let me get that for you. A thank you for being my model.” His hands were strong, and his massage was firm. I closed my eyes, melting under his touch. All the way down the mountain, Leo chattered excitedly about the inspiration that had struck him. I’d seen the painting; I thought it was nice, but I couldn’t appreciate the finer points. The moment we got back, he disappeared into his cottage. I turned on the TV. The sudden appearance of Travis’s face on the screen made me jump back. I almost changed the channel, but my hand froze. I was glad for the decision I’d made last night. Travis was a public figure. I couldn’t avoid him forever. He looked the same. During the interview, when asked about the recent rumors of a marital rift, his expression remained cool. “My wife is just throwing a bit of a tantrum. She’ll come back after she’s had her fun.” Everyone envied me. An orphan, taken in by the venerable White family and then married to the heir—I was the luckiest woman alive. Only I knew the truth: to be ignored by everyone, resented by my own husband, to hold the title of Mrs. White but still feel like a piece of driftwood in that house, utterly rootless. Every year, when the yellow roses were in bloom, Travis would have the staff cut them and fill every vase in the mansion. The piano in the conservatory was polished daily. Lydia was dead, but Travis made sure her presence was everywhere, a constant reminder of my place. “We hear the argument between you and Mrs. White was over the new assistant you’ve been seen with?” the reporter pressed. Travis’s brow furrowed in annoyance. He instinctively reached to touch the wedding band on his finger. But there was nothing there. He remembered then. Charlotte had been surprisingly defiant this time. She’d returned his ring and had the audacity to run off. He thought back to the call from Mr. Hobbs, his panicked voice reporting that the madam was gone. When Travis had returned home, he’d found Charlotte’s side of the closet completely empty. Only his suits remained, hanging in the vast, silent space. It was just another one of her tactics, a way to pressure him into getting rid of the woman who looked like Lydia. He knew how much she hated anything related to Lydia, let alone a living replica. But so what? His grandmother was gone. Charlotte had no other family, no one else to depend on. He was all she had. When she was a child, she would always hide when she was upset. His grandmother used to indulge her. He didn’t have the patience for that. Once she’d had a taste of the real world, she’d realize how good she had it at the White estate. She’d come back. “She’s an orphan,” he’d told the butler. “Without the White family, where could she possibly go? No one is to look for her. Just let me know when she returns.” Under Travis’s glare, the interviewer quickly shifted the topic from his personal life to business. Talking about work, Travis visibly relaxed. It seemed the mere mention of his wife was enough to sour his mood. I poured myself a glass of ice water and started writing my resume. This little town was a place for the old to retire, not for the young to find work. I had to leave. I worked until dusk, finally stretching and getting up to make dinner. As I sat down to my simple meal of three dishes and a soup, I wondered if Leo was still working. Did he forget to eat when he was painting, the way Travis did when he was working? When his grandmother was still alive, Travis often worked through meals, getting terrible stomach cramps. After that, whenever I could, I would bring his dinner to the office. At first, his secretary would make me wait outside for an hour or two. But eventually, he got used to it and would let me interrupt him. He’d eat, then go back to work. I sighed, put on a jacket, and knocked on the gate next door. There was no answer. Just as I was about to turn away, the gate swung open. Leo’s annoyed expression immediately brightened into a wide smile when he saw me. “Charlotte! I was just painting you, and then you appeared, like magic.” He was still holding a paintbrush. There were streaks of paint on his clothes and a smudge on his cheek. He looked a mess, but his smile was so dazzling that the paint splatters seemed like charming accessories, making him look even more alive. “Have you eaten? Want to come over for dinner?” At my invitation, he clutched his stomach and let out a dramatic groan. “I’m starving! You’re a lifesaver, Charlotte! Let me just put my brushes away.” Over the next few days, we fell into a comfortable routine. He would come over for dinner every evening, and in return, he’d help with the cleaning, and he took over all the gardening work in my yard. It was nice. I’d never had a younger brother, but I imagined it would be something like this. I sent out my resume and got a few interview requests. On the morning I was set to leave, I went to say goodbye to Leo. When I opened my gate, I saw several black sedans parked in front of his cottage. Men in suits, looking like bodyguards, stood by the cars. I hesitated for a moment before walking over. As I approached, one of the men moved to block my path. “Don’t touch her!” Leo strode out of his cottage. The sunny, cheerful boy was gone, replaced by a man with a cold, serious expression. He grabbed my hand and pulled me into his yard, slamming the gate shut behind us. “Don’t follow me in,” he ordered the men. They exchanged glances but obeyed. “Hey, Charlotte,” he said, his bright smile returning as if by magic. “Did you come to call me for dinner?” “No. I came to say goodbye.” His voice immediately jumped several octaves. “Where are you going?” I told him about the interviews. “This place is wonderful, but like you said on the mountain—every day is a new beginning, full of infinite possibilities. I want a new beginning for myself, a life without regrets.” “So, Charlotte… are you over him?” I looked at him, surprised. He just winked. “Don’t treat me like a kid. An artist’s eye is very sharp.” His directness made me blush. “Yes,” I said softly. “I think I am.” “So where are you going to work?” “Northwood City.” I had considered moving somewhere far away from Travis, but Northwood was the only home I’d known since I was a child. I grew up there, went to school there, my friends were there. Why should I force myself to start over in a strange new city, just because of him? “Then I’ll go with you,” he said. “Perfect timing, since my family found me anyway.” In the end, I hitched a ride with Leo. The nervousness I felt about returning to Northwood, about the possibility of facing Travis again, slowly faded as Leo chattered on and on about his plans for us. Life back in Northwood was surprisingly smooth. The interview went well, and I was told to start the following week. I found an apartment near the office. Two days later, Leo became my next-door neighbor again. I was taking out the trash when I saw movers carrying furniture into the apartment next to mine. I glanced over and saw the tall, lanky figure of Leo Baker, directing the workers. “What are you doing here?” “I was hoping to surprise you, but you caught me,” he said, casually taking the trash bag from my hands. “I missed your cooking, so I decided to be your neighbor again.” I was actually happy to see him. In a strange new place, having him next door made me feel safer. “Well, I’ll make a few special dishes tonight to celebrate your move.” For convenience, we decided on hot pot. The spicy broth bubbled, and Leo fished out a piece of tripe, placing it in my bowl. The first bite set my mouth on fire, and I grabbed my drink, gulping it down. “Oh, you can’t handle spicy food? I heard you loved hot pot, so I assumed…” “It’s fine. It’s just been a while.” How long had it been? I couldn’t even remember. I used to love hot pot more than anything. My grandmother would eat it with me, she’d have the mild broth, and I’d have the spicy. One time, Travis was working late, and the dinner I’d brought him had gone cold. It had started to snow outside, so I suggested we go out to eat. I took him for hot pot. Travis preferred bland food, so I ordered the half-and-half pot. But he frowned through the entire meal. “Don’t eat this again,” he said in the car on the way home. “The smell clings to you.” I never ate spicy hot pot again. It’s strange how, when you avoid something for long enough, even your own body forgets how to handle it. But soon enough, I was sweating and happily devouring my meal, rediscovering the simple joy of it. After dinner, Leo cleared the table, cleaned the kitchen, and opened the windows to air the place out. He took the trash with him when he left. Life in Northwood was calmer than I had expected. The media had forgotten about the long-absent Mrs. White, and no one from the White family came looking for me. My existence was, as always, insignificant. The media was, however, very curious about the new assistant Travis was never seen without. I idly scrolled through the paparazzi photos. It was almost comical. Did Travis truly love Lydia that much? In the photos, he bent down so the woman could adjust his tie. He carefully shielded her head as she got into the car. When it rained, he held the umbrella almost entirely over her. It seemed his love could be so easily transferred to anyone with a similar face. Travis had always been fiercely protective of Lydia’s privacy; no photos of her had ever been leaked. So now, everyone was speculating that I had been completely cast aside. If I were still in the mansion, I would probably be waiting up for a husband who never came home. But now, I was busy preparing presentations, attending meetings, dealing with… “Leo, I told you, you can’t be so clingy!” I pushed his head off my shoulder. He just pushed my laptop away. “You have a handsome man right here in front of you, and you’re staring at some old guy on a screen?” It was the first time I had ever heard anyone call Travis White an “old guy.” The thought of his reaction made me burst out laughing. When I finally caught my breath and looked up, Leo’s expression was serious. “Is he the one? The one who hurt you? Travis White of the White Corporation. I know him.” I looked at him, stunned. I had no memory of ever seeing Leo at the White mansion. “When I was a kid, my mom made me call him Uncle Travis.” “…” I lost it again, collapsing onto the sofa in a fit of laughter. “Hahaha… he’s only four years older than you, and you called him uncle… haha…” Leo pinched my cheek. “He looks old.” Travis had been involved in the family business from a young age, which had always made him seem more mature than his peers. So, he wasn’t entirely wrong. “So,” Leo said, his face suddenly very close to mine. “You’re the missing Mrs. White?” I realized that in my laughter, I had ended up with my head in his lap. I tried to sit up, but for the first time, he didn’t let me. His eyes were fixed on mine, demanding an answer. “Yes.” “So does that make me your boy toy on the side?” The thought made him laugh. I playfully slapped his arm. “Don’t be ridiculous! Besides, I’ve already left the White family. I gave him the ring back.” “Then I’ll get a lawyer. You two can be divorced by tomorrow.” “We don’t need to… we don’t have a marriage license.” I gave a bitter smile. No license, no divorce. The only thing that had ever bound us was a ring. Maybe I had played the part of Mrs. White for so long that even Travis had forgotten we weren’t legally married. “Perfect,” Leo said, his eyes gleaming. “In that case, why don’t you get a marriage license with me?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394261”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

A strange girl showed up, claiming she could wake him with her “chatterbox therapy.” I didn’t believe her. Not until a stream of comments flickered into view before my eyes: 【Here comes the talkative female lead! The comatose male lead is about to wake up!】 【She’s going to use a barrage of shameless, cringe-worthy lines to make him curl his toes in his coma until he just can’t take it anymore and has to wake up, LOL.】 【And after he wakes up, they’ll start their super sweet romance. Happy ending, here we come!】 【So, the side character sister needs to step aside for the female lead. Your daily chitchat is useless. This is a job for the pro!】 And my brother did wake up, just like they said. But the first thing he did when he was back… Was to make me break up with my new boyfriend. 1 It was the weekend, so I went to the hospital, same as always. I was there to talk to Daniel, to turn him over in his bed. Every two hours, like clockwork. Left side, on his back, right side. A constant, gentle rotation. That’s when Martha arrived. My parents brought her into the room, telling me she had a way to wake Daniel. She reached out to me without a hint of shyness, as if we were old friends. “Hi there! I’m Martha. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Hope we get along!” Her voice was bright and cheerful, like a newborn canary. I didn’t answer right away. I understood why Mom and Dad were so desperate. Daniel had been in a coma for two months. People were starting to whisper that if someone doesn’t wake up after three, they might never wake up at all. But trusting a complete stranger with him… did that feel right? Just as I was about to voice my doubts, a line of text materialized in the air before me. 【Here comes the talkative female lead! The comatose male lead is about to wake up!】 【She’s going to use a barrage of shameless, cringe-worthy lines to make him curl his toes in his coma until he just can’t take it anymore and has to wake up, LOL.】 【And after he wakes up, they’ll start their super sweet romance. Happy ending, here we come!】 【So, the side character sister needs to step aside for the female lead. Your daily chitchat is useless. This is a job for the pro!】 I stared at the strange words, my mind reeling. Female lead? Male lead? What did that even mean? I must have been frozen for a while, because my mom gently tapped my arm. “Lily?” I snapped back to reality and politely responded to Martha. “Hi, I’m Lily. Please, take care of my brother.” With that, I stepped back to stand with my parents, waiting to see what Martha would do. She, however, ran a hand through her hair, a bashful look on her face. “Sorry, but would you mind waiting outside? I can’t really… get in the zone with an audience.” And so, the three of us found ourselves standing in the hallway. 2 Mom and Dad were a nervous wreck, completely in the dark about her methods. I, on the other hand, knew exactly what was happening, thanks to the floating comments. 【LMAO, she just told him she’s a stalker who’s been secretly watching him for ages. And now that he’s helpless, she can finally do whatever she wants.】 【She said she’s going to take the opportunity to admire his perfect feet while he’s out cold. I’m dying.】 【“If you don’t wake up, I’m posting the nude photos I took of you on a gay dating site and you’ll have men lining up for you!” Hahaha, this isn’t therapy, it’s blackmail!】 【Wake up, man! This adorable girl is right in front of you!】 Could these… words… really work? I had my doubts. According to the comments, the world I was living in was a novel. Daniel was the male lead, and Martha was the female lead. His coma was just a necessary plot device to bring them together. He would eventually wake up and they would begin their sweet love story. As for me? I was just a side character. A supporting role. The girl with a one-sided crush on her adoptive brother, a small obstacle in the path of their love. A pang of sadness hit me. But if the comments were right, if Daniel was guaranteed to wake up, then I was also incredibly happy. As long as he was healthy and whole, that’s all that mattered. Half an hour later, Martha emerged from the room. She looked a little drained, her voice slightly hoarse. “That’s all for today. I’ll be back tomorrow.” I nodded, handing her a bottle of water I’d bought earlier. “Thank you for your hard work. See you tomorrow.” Martha looked surprised for a second, then thanked me and left. My parents and I went back into the room. While they massaged Daniel’s limbs, I sat by his bed and worked on my differential equations homework, reading the problems aloud. “y” – 3y’tan(x) – 2y = 0…” “…Brother, I think I messed this one up again. When are you going to teach me that other method you mentioned?” 3 The comments went wild. 【Holy calculus, what have I gotten myself into?】 【Can’t even escape math while reading a novel. I give up.】 【Honey, are you sure reading that stuff out loud isn’t going to put your brother into an even deeper coma?】 【LOL I’m dead. But wait, what’s up with the sister? Why was she so nice to the female lead just now? Shouldn’t she be jealous?】 【That’s how a normal family member would act, right? If someone says they can help, you treat them like a queen!】 【Yeah, but she’s not exactly a normal family member, is she? She’s in love with her brother! Eww, as someone with a brother, I can’t even.】 【They’re not blood-related… Let’s not mix things up. Don’t you dare slander our stepsibling ship.】 … They started arguing about math and the morality of shipping non-related siblings. I ignored them and kept working on my problems, glancing at Daniel from time to time. He lay there on the bed, so quiet, as if he were just sleeping. His eyelashes were long and thick, casting dark shadows beneath his eyes. When we were little, I was so jealous of how much prettier his lashes were than mine. I used to sneak into his room while he was asleep and try to pluck them. He always caught me, every single time. But I hadn’t crawled into his bed since that one night in my first year of high school. I’d been reading a horror novel about tomb raiders and was completely spooked, tossing and turning, unable to sleep. So, I tiptoed into Daniel’s room, curled into a ball, and burrowed into his arms. “Brother, can I sleep with you tonight?” He must have still been awake, because he jumped. Then, he immediately pushed me away. “Get out.” I ignored him, pressing closer. “Please, brother? I’m so scared a boogeyman is going to grab my feet…” His tone suddenly became harsh, severe. He used my full name. “Lily, get out.” I froze, looking up at him. His face was cold, impassive. He wasn’t joking. I tried again, my voice small. “But… we used to sleep together all the time when we were little…” He shoved me off the bed, leaving no room for argument. “That was then. It’s different now. You are never to get in my bed again.” “Oh.” I was hurt and angry. I gave him the silent treatment for weeks after that. Thinking back now, he was right. We weren’t little kids anymore. He needed to create distance between us. And he was right to do so. Suddenly, my phone rang, shattering my thoughts. I glanced at the screen. The name ‘Lucas’ flashed. And I remembered. I had plans today. 4 I answered the call. Lucas’s slightly disappointed voice came through the phone. “Hey, are you busy? I texted but you didn’t reply, so I figured I’d call.” “Everyone’s at the children’s home already. We’re just waiting on you.” I put him on speaker, apologizing as I gathered my things. “I’m so sorry, something came up. I’m on my way now, I’ll be there in about twenty minutes.” His voice immediately brightened. “Okay, I’ll wait for you.” After I hung up, my mom asked with concern, “Do you have to go somewhere?” I nodded, stuffing my notebook into my bag. “Yeah, it’s a volunteer event with the university society. I’ll come right back after.” My dad ruffled my hair. “Your mom and I are here with your brother, don’t worry. You need to live your life, Lily. You can’t put everything on hold for the hospital.” I hesitated for a moment, then nodded and left. Now that I knew Daniel was going to wake up, the constant, crushing anxiety had eased a little. As I walked out of the room, a few more comments popped into view. 【WTF, did his eyelashes just flutter? Did anyone else see that?】 【I saw it, I saw it! Our girl is a miracle worker! First day and already getting results! She’s the GOAT of chatterbox therapy!】 My heart sank a little. It was a strange mix of joy and disappointment. Joy, because the comments were right. Daniel was reacting. He was going to wake up soon. Disappointment, because it meant that only Martha’s efforts truly mattered. There was just no fate between Daniel and me. 5 I spent the afternoon volunteering at the children’s home. I helped the kids with their lessons, played games with them, and sat with them for counseling sessions. It was the same home where Daniel and I had lived. We were both orphans. The year he was seven and I was four, Mr. and Mrs. Hayes came to the home, looking to adopt a boy and a girl. They chose the smart, brave Daniel first. As for me… no one ever wanted a timid, shy little thing like me. But Daniel pulled me out from where I was hiding behind the director’s legs. He gathered all his courage and presented me to Mr. and Mrs. Hayes. “She’s a really good girl. She always wipes the table after she eats, and she’s very quiet when she sleeps.” “Mom! Dad! I’ll vouch for her with every single one of my future report cards!” And after that, Daniel was always first in his class. … In the present, Lucas was waving a hand in front of my face. “Lily? Time to go.” I snapped out of my reverie and nodded, getting up to leave. “Want to grab dinner together?” he asked suddenly. I shook my head. “I can’t, I have something to do.” Lucas hesitated. “Are you going to the hospital to see your brother?” I was a little surprised he knew. He explained apologetically, “I overheard you talking to the director earlier. Sorry.” Since he knew, I just nodded. But I wasn’t expecting him to suggest visiting Daniel himself. “Your brother is a legend at our university, a top graduate. I’d like to pay my respects to a senior alumnus.” I thought about it and agreed. Maybe a visit from a stranger could help a little. Even with Martha’s therapy, every little bit of effort might bring Daniel back a day sooner. So, I took Lucas to the hospital. 6 In the hospital room, Daniel was still sleeping peacefully. Mom and Dad were delighted to see Lucas and chatted with him for a long time. Even after he left, they were still grilling me. “Lily, you two seem quite close, don’t you?” I was massaging Daniel’s arm, my mind elsewhere. “We’re okay, I guess. He’s a senior, one year ahead of me. He helps me out a lot with school.” Dad was looking at me thoughtfully. “I think that boy has a thing for you. Peeling your apples, buying you milk… he’s working hard to impress you.” My hand stilled. All my energy lately had been focused on Daniel; I hadn’t noticed a thing. I stopped massaging and asked seriously, “Really? Is it that obvious?” Mom smiled. “It is. But our Lily is such an amazing girl, it’s only normal for boys to like her. And he seems like a nice kid. But what matters is if you like him.” If I like him… I lowered my eyes, stealing a glance at Daniel. Being in love with your own brother… people would think that’s disgusting, wouldn’t they? Dad picked up the thread. “You’re a sophomore now. It’s a good time to start dating. Just don’t keep it a secret from us, okay?” I nodded, my voice soft. “I know. I’ll definitely tell you.” The comments suddenly flared to life. 【OMG, did his eyeballs just move under his lids? What’s going on? Does the female lead’s therapy have a delayed effect?】 【At this rate, he’ll be awake in a few days! Yesss, I’m ready for the romance!】 【The side character should just get with the senior already. Stop pining for your brother. The stepsibling trope is a dead end here.】 I ignored that last comment, my eyes fixed on Daniel’s. They were definitely moving. I excitedly called Mom and Dad over to look. They were so moved they nearly cried, vowing to repay Martha handsomely. I would too. I made a silent promise to myself. If she could really wake Daniel, I would wish them nothing but happiness. And now… it was time to clear out all my memories of him. 7 That night, I took out the box where I kept all my treasures related to Daniel. Birthday gifts he’d given me, paper airplanes he’d folded, tokens from the claw machines we’d played… Among all the neatly kept items, one wrinkled, crumpled piece of scratch paper stood out. It was covered in Daniel’s familiar handwriting. First, there were his notes and steps for solving a high school math problem. Then, suddenly, the writing changed. 【How many solution methods is that now? Who cares. The more the better. It means I get to spend more time with her.】 【Otherwise, she’ll just run off to watch her TV shows.】 In high school, I was obsessed with TV, especially those cheesy teen romance dramas. Daniel would always boast shamelessly. “What’s so good about this? Is this guy even half as handsome as your brother?” He was handsome. He was the star of our school—smart, popular, top of his class. But he wasn’t mine. My heart felt like it was being pricked by a thousand tiny needles, a dull, sour ache spreading through my chest. I pulled myself out of the memory and kept reading. 【When she watches the main couple kiss on screen… does her heart flutter too?】 【Does she imagine someone loving her like that?】 【Could… could that person be me?】 【I want to kiss her so badly】 The last two lines were violently scratched out. Below them, still in Daniel’s handwriting but pressed so hard the lead nearly tore the paper, were three words. 【Daniel, you’re insane.】 【You are her brother.】 The air left my lungs. A wave of pure shock washed over me, so powerful it felt physical. The hand holding the paper began to tremble uncontrollably. The words blurred on the page, the ink seeming to bleed together until it reformed into a single, undeniable truth— Daniel loved me, too. 8 So that was it. All this time, Daniel had been just like me. Tossing and turning through countless nights, wrestling with a guilt that felt like sinking in mud. The comments were in an uproar over this. 【!!! The male lead is actually in love with the sister?? WTF, I want a refund!】 【Hold on, hold on, this was from like three or four years ago. Maybe he’s over it now.】 【Uh… whether he’s over it or not, it’s still gross. They grew up together as brother and sister. How could he have those kinds of thoughts about her?】 【What’s wrong with it? They’re not related by blood! Brothers are born to become brothers-in-law! I’m shipping the male lead and the side character!】 【I have nothing to say to you people who don’t get the stepsibling trope.】 【User ‘ForbiddenFruitLover’ has renewed their annual membership X10! Congratulations! You’ve unlocked a hidden bonus scene!】 【All hail the master shipper!】 【Are you guys all perverts? I’m rooting for my girl Martha!】 … Could the comments be right? Was it possible Daniel only used to have feelings for me? Or did he still love me now? But if he did… what about Martha? What about the story? Would the plot unfold as the comments had predicted? That night, I barely slept a wink. By dawn, I had made my decision. It was time to make a move. 9 The next day, my parents had errands to run, so I went to the hospital alone. Daniel was lying there peacefully, still showing no signs of waking. I went through our usual routine—wiping his face, turning his body. Finally, I sat by his bed and started talking, filling the quiet room with the mundane details of my life. “Brother, I met a senior from school. You know, the one who came to visit yesterday.” “He walks me to the library sometimes. He brings me bubble tea.” “Since you’ve been in the hospital, I’ve been going to him with all my school questions. He even helped me with that equation yesterday.” “He’s really smart, too. Just as smart as you.” “Last night, when we were saying goodbye… he told me he had feelings for me.” “Brother… do you think I should say yes?” After I finished, I watched him, searching his still face for any sign, any flicker of a reaction. But before long, the door creaked open. Martha peeked her head in. “Good morning!” I stood up to greet her. “Thanks so much for coming again.” She waved her hand dismissively as she walked in. “Hey, don’t mention it. Your mom told me he was reacting yesterday? Looks like my treatment is working wonders.” She came closer, leaning in conspiratorially. “Today, I’m planning to use some stronger medicine. He might even wake up by tomorrow!” I couldn’t help but ask, “What kind of medicine?” Martha just shook her head, gently pushing me toward the door. “Can’t say. Spoilers! Just wait for the results!” I was skeptical, but I left the room again. I stood outside the door once more. I never imagined that Martha’s “stronger medicine” would involve physical contact.

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