Category: English

I starred in a queer romance show and it turned me gay. When I confessed, the younger actor shot me down. “You’re five years older than me, Liam. Can’t you tell the difference between acting and reality?” I walked away and avoided him for three years. I never imagined the show would become a massive hit, forcing us back together for promotional events. Worried he’d be uncomfortable, I puffed out my chest and assured him, “Don’t worry, I went through some intensive therapy and got it all sorted out. I’m as straight as you are now.” But now, at every event we do together… whenever I get close, his lips find mine. “Sorry,” he’ll whisper, “we kissed so much back then… my body just remembers.” 1 Three years ago, I shot a TV series with two male leads alongside Theo Thorne. Given the subject matter, I figured it would never see the light of day. Who knew that when it was finally released this year, it would explode? Back then, I was the seasoned actor and Theo was the fresh-faced rookie. Now, I’m just a guy who reliably plays supporting roles, never quite breaking through. Theo, on the other hand, is one of the biggest stars in the industry. Thanks to him, my name has been trending lately, too. My agency is desperate to capitalize on this sudden wave of popularity. I’d made a point of avoiding any event Theo was at, but they sent my agent, Jenna, to personally persuade me. “Liam, whatever beef you have with Theo, you have to do this joint live stream while the show is airing,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Otherwise, the rumors will get nasty.” I was taken aback. “What beef could I possibly have with Theo?” It was nothing like that. I’d just gotten too deep into my role and let him turn my world upside down. I’d poured my heart out to him, only to be rejected. I wasn’t avoiding him out of hatred. I was avoiding him because there was no point. But no matter how hard I tried, Theo was inescapable. He was so famous his face was everywhere. I ran my thumb over the sandalwood beads on my wrist and finally agreed to the live stream. “Jenna, believe it or not,” I said, meeting her gaze, “we were each other’s only male lead. I’ve never wished him anything but the best.” From my 28th to my 31st year, that chapter should have been long closed. Jenna looked relieved. “Oh, I thought you were homophobic or something. That you regretted doing a queer show with him and that’s why you were hiding.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “I mean, you two were practically shoving your tongues down each other’s throats in every other scene. I can’t imagine any straight guy being okay with that.” I choked on my water. “Ahem… well, you’re not wrong, but you don’t have to be so crude about it.” 2 When I arrived at the studio, the reality of Daybreak’s popularity hit me. A crowd of shippers was waiting, holding signs for “TheoStorm”—our couple name—and chanting for us. I gave them a respectful bow. As I straightened up, an egg splattered against my head. “You leech! Stop sucking the life out of my idol! Just die!” a girl screamed. I was stunned. I’d been in the business for a while, built a reputation for being professional and easy to work with. I’d never been publicly insulted like this. Gooey egg yolk dripped into my eyes, blurring my vision. “Jenna? Where are you?” It sounded like Jenna was arguing with the egg-thrower. My vision went dark, and I swayed on my feet. The next second, a jacket was thrown over my head. A hand steadied my shoulder, and a calm, deep voice said, “This way.” I was led into a restroom inside the building. After a quick rinse, I licked a drop of water from my lips and thanked the person beside me. “Theo. Thanks for that.” He was dressed in all black, completely covered up. He pulled off his hat and mask. At six-foot-three, I had to crane my neck to meet his eyes. “The fans didn’t even recognize me. How did you know?” I paused. Looking at his curly lashes, the high bridge of his nose, and those lips that were slightly upturned, so damn kissable… how could I not know? While filming, I had kissed every feature of his face. I knew the faint, clean scent of pine that clung to his skin. I knew about the mole on his neck. For those few months, I knew his body better than he did. I shook my head, trying to clear the strange thoughts along with the water from my hair. I extended my hand like a gentleman. “Theo. It’s been a while.” He took it, his gaze deep and unreadable. “Liam. You look well.” Tsk. Three years ago, it was always “Liam, my friend” or “Liam, my brother.” Now he was just using my name. So quick to forget. Then again, he’d earned the right. “Oh, by the way, Theo,” I said, my smile wide and sincere. “I’m straight now.” 3 Theo must have been thrilled. The troublesome colleague who’d confessed to him so recklessly had finally seen the light. He wouldn’t have to worry about me crossing any lines. A straight guy and a straight guy. There was zero possibility. In the makeup room, Jenna told me the girl who threw the egg had been taken to the police station. She was an extremist fan of Theo’s, and the popularity of our on-screen couple had apparently driven her over the edge. Jenna was still fuming. “You haven’t once tried to ride his coattails since the show aired! How dare she call you a leech?” I sighed. I hadn’t actively tried, but I had definitely benefited. When we shot Daybreak, Theo was a newcomer, but his talent was astonishing. I knew he’d be a huge star; I just didn’t expect it to happen so fast. He shot up like a wildfire, reaching heights I could no longer touch. In the month since the show started airing, my friend Evan, another actor, called me, his voice green with envy. “You sly bastard, you kept it a secret that you did a show with Theo Thorne! Your career is about to take off…” For most actors, working with Theo was a dream come true. “So, what was it like shooting those intimate scenes with him? Isn’t he supposed to be walking pheromones, irresistible to everyone?” “It was years ago,” I deflected. “Who remembers?” But the truth was, I remembered every single detail. I still haven’t watched the final cut of Daybreak. The thought of reliving that obsessive crush I had on him… it was too humiliating. I didn’t want to remember. But I forgot one thing. The studio’s live streams were famous for being bold. As the broadcast began, the host played a fan-made compilation of Daybreak’s best moments. On the high-definition screen, the story unfolded. I played a volunteer teacher who meets a young, free-spirited ranch hand in the mountains. The teacher falls for him at first sight but doesn’t pursue him directly, instead using subtle ways to seduce him. The young man struggles, slowly falling for him, only to find out the teacher is planning to return to the city after the New Year to get married. At the break of dawn, after a night of turmoil, the young man pushes open the teacher’s door. They finally give in. Their first sweet, stolen moment. 4 The clip dragged me right back to that sweltering, intense summer. The summer I was utterly mesmerized by Theo. The sound of our breathing echoed in my ears, and my mind went blank. “Liam,” a voice said beside me. Theo was sitting next to me on the sofa, his handsome, mature face just inches away. “What are you spacing out for? The host asked what you thought of the fan edit.” My throat was dry. “It was great. Both Theo and I looked very handsome.” Theo chuckled, leaning closer. His dark, bright eyes reflected my own image back at me. “I thought it was great, too. Especially that last intimate scene. Your expression was so sweet… and so dirty.” A sense of dread washed over me. Was Theo actively trying to play up our couple dynamic? The live chat exploded. [Whoa, did he really just say that? My poor virgin ears!] [Theo seems VERY satisfied with the beautiful husband the production provided. It’s been three years and he’s still teasing him!] [Look at his face, he’s totally reliving it. The shippers said Theo had a great time filming this, and yeah, looks like he did!] [I didn’t believe the rumor that Theo disguised himself as a fan to save Liam from that egg attack, but now… I’m a believer!] Theo continued, “The director had really high standards for that scene. We had to kiss so many times our lips went numb.” I just stared at him. Who asked you? Literally no one asked you. My scalp was tingling. Had Theo been possessed? Every word out of his mouth was loaded. Little did I know, this was just the beginning. The more he talked, the bolder he got. The host would ask, and he would answer. “My first impression of Liam? His skin is very fair, very soft. It bruises easily.” “I was the one who usually led the intimate scenes. He gets shy.” “To get into character faster, Liam and I slept in the same room every night.” “Liam’s birthday was on set. I gave him a sandalwood bracelet. He got drunk that night, and I had to carry him back to…” My face was on fire. I clamped a hand over his mouth. Was he using my name as a comma? “Theo! This is a live broadcast,” I hissed through gritted teeth. He just raised an eyebrow and whispered in my ear, “Don’t worry. I won’t mention how you forced a kiss on me when you were drunk…” He was doing this on purpose! The show started trending topic after topic. No one was accusing me of leeching off his fame anymore. Now, the fans were convinced we’d been secretly dating for years. The host asked, “So, you two have kept in touch all this time?” My heart sank. Everyone in the industry knew I’d been avoiding him for three years. But Theo just smiled sweetly and said, “Of course.” 5 During a commercial break, I lit a cigarette and blocked his path. “What the hell are you playing at?” If I wasn’t me, I’d actually believe we’d fallen in love on set. Theo snatched the cigarette from my fingers. His bangs fell over his eyes, casting a dark shadow over his face. “I’m just telling the truth.” “You’re talking about the past,” I said calmly. “Three years in the past. We’re not in that kind of relationship now.” He suddenly reached out and pinched my earlobe. It was one of my sensitive spots. He used to toy with it whenever we kissed. “Liam, before this live stream, people were saying our shippers were just eating up fake, manufactured chemistry. What do you think about that?” During the show’s run, they’d been releasing behind-the-scenes footage. In the clips, we were incredibly close. Even when we weren’t filming, we were always smiling at each other, holding hands, with our arms around each other’s waists. That genuine affection from back then was now being dismissed as completely fake because of the huge gap in our career status. Theo’s eyes were defiant. “I don’t care what’s real or fake. All I know is that you and I, hiding in our room and making out, was real.” The tension in my brow eased. “Oh, I see. You were giving the shippers what they wanted.” It was a shame, really. He had to create content on the spot. I felt a surge of admiration. Theo had more talent than me, and he worked harder. No wonder he was a superstar while I was still stuck in mediocrity. My mind was always filled with useless things like feelings and kissing and… other stuff. I was so shallow. It was surprising that an actor of his stature needed to resort to this, but then again, in this industry, who didn’t want to be more famous? There was no shame in using a popular ship to boost your profile. I was moved. “Don’t worry,” I said earnestly. “You want to play up the couple angle? I’ll cooperate. I’ll give it my all.” Theo’s expression was strange. He even cursed at me. “Liam, you’re an idiot.” He probably didn’t trust a “straight guy” like me to do a good job. My competitive spirit flared. Who was he looking down on? Playing a part for the fans was just another form of acting. When Theo was just starting out, I was the one who taught him everything, step by step. He said he’d never really kissed anyone, so I let him kiss me until my lips were numb. He said he didn’t understand the dynamics between men, so I let him use me for practice… Eventually, he was the one taking the lead, biting the back of my neck with a primal intensity, his eyes red like a wild animal’s. He was so convincing, I thought he’d actually fallen for me. Turns out, I was the one who got lost in the role. He was just being a professional. But I was fine now. I could play a straight guy playing a gay guy. Easy. 6 For the game segment, I chose the most intimate option: the Pocky challenge. The host was practically vibrating with excitement. “Oh my god, are they actually going to kiss?!” I took a bite, closing the distance. Our lips were a hair’s breadth apart, our breaths mingling. Theo either had to forfeit or kiss me. This was just for show; he wouldn’t actually do it. I held my position, blinking innocently. Suddenly, his large, warm hand clamped onto the back of my neck, pulling me forward. He stole the last tiny crumb of the biscuit from my mouth. Theo held up a script to block the camera’s view. The audience couldn’t see it, but we were really kissing. Only the host saw everything, and she was screaming into her mic. “AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “I NEED A RESPIRATOR! GET ME A RESPIRATOR!” Theo rested his chin on my shoulder, his damp lips brushing against my earlobe. “Sorry,” he whispered. “We kissed so much back then… my body just remembers.” I didn’t dare look at the live chat. And I couldn’t exactly scold him for using his tongue. After all, I was the one who taught him how. It was an exhilarating live stream. Theo and I dominated the trending topics all night. After that, my career took off. Offers started pouring in. Jenna, ever the pragmatist, knew we owed Theo. She arranged a dinner to thank him. At the table, she told me to propose a toast. In this industry, status trumps age. I willingly poured a glass of wine, but before I could raise it, Theo took it from me, his thumb brushing the palm of my hand. “You can’t handle your liquor, so don’t force it,” he said. “Jenna, I actually brought my manager, Mark, to talk about our upcoming joint activities.” The two agents excused themselves to the adjacent private room, leaving Theo and me alone. 7 His presence was overwhelming. The shippers said he was like a snake and I was a rabbit, and every look he gave me was like he was about to swallow me whole. There was a time I was hopelessly lost in those eyes. Now I understood: a good actor can look at anyone with devotion. I looked at Theo and offered a gentle warning. “Playing up the couple thing is a win-win, but there has to be a line. Let’s not actually kiss next time. If people start thinking you’re not straight, you’ll be in trouble.” He had a big movie coming out. Going too far would definitely have consequences. “You were so close,” Theo said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “And your lips were all puckered up. Of course I couldn’t resist.” My lips? Was he saying I started it? Well, I was the one benefiting most from this partnership. To do some damage control, I pulled him in for a selfie and posted it online. Reunited with my good friend @TheoThorne. Reminiscing about the old days. The shippers descended immediately. [The more you try to hide it, the more obvious it is.] [You were just making out on a live stream, and now you’re pretending to be straight? A little late for that, sweetie.] Hmph. I didn’t need to pretend. I was straight. Theo leaned over my shoulder to look at my phone. The strands of his hair tickled my neck, and the scent of pine filled my senses, throwing me back to those months we spent living in each other’s pockets. My heart began to race. Just then, a new comment popped up. [This is the great thing about straight guys. Even if they catch feelings, they convince themselves they’re supposed to like girls. Even if they get turned on, they think they’re sick. They keep lying to themselves until they realize they only react that way to one person!] A smirk played on Theo’s lips. “Speaking of which, you used to have some pretty strong reactions during our scenes. Got me all wet once.” I couldn’t deny it. My face burned, and I shoved him away. “You were no better.” The atmosphere was getting tense. And hot. I tried to steer the conversation back to safer ground. “Theo, I was the one who got too into the role back then. I made a mistake.” I had to make it clear I wouldn’t be a problem. “Don’t worry. I went to therapy and got it sorted out. Guaranteed straight now.” Theo’s expression soured, and his focus was… odd. “What kind of therapy works that well?” “Uh…” I felt awkward. “It wasn’t actual therapy. It was more like… chat-erapy.” “Chemo?” Theo looked alarmed. “Are you sick?” I scratched my head. “No, not that kind of chemo. My friend Evan, you know him? He can talk for an entire night without stopping. He could talk a man out of any problem.” “I wasn’t that far gone. He talked me straight in one session…” The words had barely left my mouth when I saw Jenna standing in the doorway, her face a mask of shock. “Who’s not straight?!”

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My first love and I were kidnapped. My fiancé, Roger, had to choose. After agonizing silence, he picked me—his childhood friend. Days later, Beth, his first love, was found dead in an alley, violated and broken. He never showed grief, but I knew he hated me. For eight years, he never touched me, watching coldly as society mocked me. I thought we’d suffer forever. Then, during a terrorist attack abroad, Roger—who’d hated me for a decade—shielded me with his body. As he died, he smiled. “Ellie, I can finally be with Beth. Next life… don’t stand between us.” I woke back on the kidnapping day. This time, I wouldn’t let him save me. This time, I’d let him go. In this life, I’d wish him and Beth happiness—without me. 1 I woke up to the smell of smoke and the roar of flames. Just as I expected, I was tied up next to Beth. The kidnapper was already on the phone with Roger, forcing him to make his choice. “One is the girl you grew up with, your little sister. The other is the old flame you can’t forget. A little game of Sophie’s Choice for you, Mr. Pierce. So, who will it be?” The kidnapper’s voice was laced with a cruel amusement, not urgency. He was enjoying this, curious to see what Roger would do. Outside the burning warehouse, Roger was silent. His mother, however, was frantic. “Don’t you dare hurt Eleanor!” she screamed into the phone. “Please, we’ll give you anything you want, any amount of money!” “Don’t hurt Eleanor,” she repeated, her voice cracking, before turning on her son. “Roger, what are you waiting for? Choose her! Her father died saving your father’s life. Are you going to make us owe the Dereks another life?” Still, Roger said nothing. I knew what he was thinking. He wanted to save Beth. She was the one he cherished, the one he held on a pedestal in his heart. In our last life, even after she was gone, he remained celibate for her, a twisted form of devotion. He only chose me because his mother had forced his hand. The kidnapper was losing his patience. “You’d better decide quickly, Mr. Pierce,” he snarled, glancing at the thick plumes of black smoke billowing into the sky. “A few more seconds of hesitation, and you’ll lose them both.” Across the inferno, our eyes met. He was looking at me, but his gaze was filled with a torturous conflict. “Fine,” he finally said, his voice strained. “I choose Elea—” Before he could finish my name, just as he had before, I scrambled to my feet and screamed with every ounce of strength I had. “Save Beth!” Roger’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with disbelief. After all, in the past, I would throw a fit if he didn’t prioritize me in even the most trivial matters, let alone a life-or-death situation. To see me hand him over to another woman—and not just any woman, but Beth—was unthinkable. Everyone in the city’s elite circles knew that if there was one person Eleanor Derek despised, it was Beth Dean. Roger and I had been inseparable since we were children. I had always believed he was mine, and I’d made it my mission to extinguish any romantic spark he had with anyone else. I was on high alert with any girl who got too close. But Beth was different. She was the one Roger had actually loved. His one true sweetheart. And there was nothing I could do about it. My hatred for her was really just fear. The smoke was getting thicker, the heat suffocating. The sea breeze whipped at my dress. I said it again, my voice firm. “Save Beth.” Don’t hesitate, Roger. Save the woman you love. This time, I don’t want to be in your debt. And I don’t want to be hated by you for the rest of my life. 2 In the end, Roger paid the eight-million-dollar ransom. For Beth. As he scooped her up and ran from the fire, he didn’t spare a single glance in my direction. From where I stood, I could see the pure, unadulterated joy of having her back in his eyes. A bitter smile touched my lips. Even though I knew he never loved me, it still hurt. More than a decade of shared history, of a bond I thought was unbreakable, had apparently left no mark on his heart at all. … Just before the warehouse exploded, one of the kidnappers dragged me out through a hidden back path. As I watched Roger carry Beth away, their figures shrinking in the distance, I remembered my past life. I remembered Roger, bleeding out in my arms, begging me to let him be with her. Well, Roger, I thought, your wish is granted. I owed him a life. Now, I’ve given it back to him and the woman he loves. This time, we’re even. And this time… I can finally let him go. 3 I was safe. The rescue team arrived just in time. The city’s special police force had been lying in wait at the other exit the whole time. A sudden, chilling thought occurred to me: If they were here all along, why did Beth die in my past life? She should have been rescued too. But I didn’t have time to dwell on it. My best friend, Sarah, launched herself at me, a mess of tears and snot, seemingly more traumatized than I was. “Oh my god, Eleanor, you scared me to death!” she sobbed. As the ropes were cut from my wrists, I patted her head, a small laugh escaping me. “It’s okay, I’m fine.” Sarah’s face was flushed with anger. She pointed toward the front of the warehouse. “That bastard Roger! Can you believe he chose Beth? He abandoned his own fiancée for that worthless piece of trash!” Yes. Roger and I were engaged. I knew that by tomorrow, at the latest, the city’s gossip columns would be screaming the headlines: PIERCE HEIR DUMPS FIANCÉE FOR OLD FLAME. It would make me the laughingstock of our social circle. I had always been the one to force Roger into public displays of affection, desperate to prove to everyone that he loved me. So much of our “love story” had been a fabrication of my own making. Thinking back on it now, it was all so pathetic. True love doesn’t need to be flaunted. It’s the ones who have nothing who show off the most. Sarah was still cursing Roger’s name, defending my honor. I cut her off, dropping a bombshell with quiet calm. “They used to date.” Roger and Beth had a history. He told me himself, late in our last life. They had been forced to break up because his mother disapproved. Sarah’s eyes went wide with disbelief. I just smiled, a hollow, weary expression. So you see, he was just saving the love of his life. Perfectly understandable. In the chaos, my eyes caught a flash of a man in a black suit with a silver stud in his ear. I squinted, certain I wasn’t mistaken. Nearly 6’3″, the silver earring, an air of quiet authority… There was only one man in the city who fit that description. The heir to the Leonard family fortune, Archer Leonard. 4 Later that night, Sarah drove me back to the Pierce estate. The butler informed me that Roger’s mother, Diana, had been so furious with him for not choosing me that she’d made him kneel in the family chapel all afternoon. She had even used the “family discipline,” which was code for a cane. She’d forbidden anyone from giving him food or tending to his wounds until he admitted he was wrong. But Roger would never believe he was wrong. He had saved the woman he loved; he was probably thanking his lucky stars. After a lifetime as his wife, I knew him. And honestly, I didn’t blame him. I went to find Diana to comfort her, but my presence only made her more emotional. She pulled me into a hug, tears streaming down her face, apologizing on Roger’s behalf. “Eleanor, don’t you worry. I’ve taught that boy a lesson he won’t soon forget. I won’t let him off easy this time.” Her anger flared again. “The nerve of him! I told him years ago that I would never approve of him and that Beth girl. And he still dared to put you in danger for that little fox!” She took my hands in hers. “Don’t you be angry, dear. I’ll beat that boy until he gets on his knees and apologizes to you personally, and then he’ll swear to never see Beth again.” Diana’s fierce protectiveness moved me. After my father died, I became an orphan, taken in by the Pierce family. But I never once felt the insecurity of a guest in someone else’s home, all because Diana treated me like her own precious daughter, spoiling me even more than she spoiled Roger. The moment I confessed my schoolgirl crush on him, she had immediately arranged our engagement. In her eyes, if I wanted something, she would move heaven and earth to get it for me. My eyes welled up, and I buried my face in her shoulder. It had been so long since I’d felt such unconditional love. In our last life, Diana had passed away early on, never knowing the bitter, resentful couple Roger and I had become. “Thank you, Aunt Diana,” I mumbled, my voice thick with emotion. “But… it was me. I told Roger to save Beth.” I pressed myself closer, finally saying the words I’d been holding back since my rebirth. “Aunt Diana, I think we should call off the engagement.” The words hung in the air. Both Sarah and Diana stared at me, utterly stunned. Everyone knew I loved Roger to the point of obsession. Since middle school, I had followed him around like a lost puppy he couldn’t shake. At my eighteenth birthday party, when someone asked what my wish was, I had declared in front of all our friends and family, “I will marry no one but Roger Pierce.” So much time had passed. I couldn’t remember the look on Roger’s face that night, only that it wasn’t a happy one. How ridiculous. I should have known then that he didn’t love me. That no amount of chasing or devotion would ever change that. If someone doesn’t love you, they don’t love you. And yet, I’d ignored his feelings and forced him into a marriage he never wanted. I never once considered how he felt. No wonder he despised me. 5 Thank God, in this life, there was still time to change everything. After my relentless pleading, Diana finally, reluctantly, agreed. Armed with the news Roger most wanted to hear, I went to the family chapel. A twenty-four-year-old Roger knelt quietly on the cold stone floor, his profile sharp and perfect in the dim light. In this life, his eyes held no hatred for me, no disgust. Just a sincere, profound apology. “I’m sorry, Ellie, I—” I shook my head. “It’s not your fault, Roger.” He flinched. It had been a long, long time since I’d called him by his first name without the possessive tone of a lover. Not since I’d confessed my feelings for him. He frowned, confused. But I just smiled at him, a genuine, uncomplicated smile, as I stepped back into the role of his little sister. “I was selfish and immature before. I never considered your feelings, and I’m truly sorry for that.” “It won’t happen again.” “I just spoke with your mother. I asked her to cancel our engagement.” When I said the words “cancel our engagement,” a flicker of something—surprise? disbelief?—crossed his usually placid face. He stared at me, his voice certain. “You’re angry.” I shook my head. I didn’t understand. He should be happy. Happy that I was finally letting him go. Happy that he was free to be with Beth. And yet, all he said was a quiet, “Fine.” Then he closed his eyes, refusing to look at me again. I turned and left, trying not to overthink it. In this life, this was for the best. Our paths would diverge here. 6 That weekend, Sarah threw a party to “calm my nerves.” It was just our close circle of friends. After a few rounds of drinks, we had some uninvited guests. Beth, pushed forward by her older sister, came to thank me personally. She looked terrified of me. “Eleanor,” she stammered, “about the other day… th-thank you.” Everyone in the private room exchanged glances, waiting for the inevitable fireworks. They all knew how much I loathed Beth, how I never missed an opportunity to humiliate her, calling her a homewrecking fox who was seducing Roger. I had made a public spectacle of her more than once. But my hatred for Beth had roots. I wasn’t wrong. She had seduced Roger. Beth was the unloved second daughter of her family; all their affection was reserved for her older sister. Before I met her, she had been nothing more than a living blood bag for her chronically ill sibling. One day, she’d had enough and tried to run away from the hospital. Roger and I found her. Roger knew the dark secrets of her family and warned me not to get involved. He tried to hold me back as I rushed to her defense, but I broke free. I saved Beth. The Pierces were the most powerful family in the city, and everyone wanted to be in their good graces. The Deans were no exception. They were thrilled that Beth had connected with me. I took her under my wing, just as she’d hoped. She was a frail, malnourished little thing back then, a frightened rabbit hiding behind me. Sarah and I showered her with gifts and food. But it wasn’t enough for her. I treated her like a friend. I told the world, and her, that I loved Roger, that he was my fiancé. And she still went after him. I was furious. Diana had raised me to be proud and imperious. I could not tolerate betrayal from a friend. I used my influence with Diana to have Beth’s family force her to kneel outside in the freezing cold for two hours. But Beth was too weak. After only a short time, she collapsed and was rushed to the ICU. That was the first time Roger ever truly got angry with me. “Eleanor! Didn’t I warn you to leave her alone?” he’d yelled. “Her life at home is hard enough. You’ve disappointed me more than I can say.” My eyes had filled with tears. It was the first time I’d seen genuine pain and concern for someone else in his eyes. He ignored me for a month after that, all for Beth. I finally got scared. I promised him I would never bother her again. But Beth was a master actress. On Christmas, Roger made me bring a gift to her house and apologize. Because I loved him, I went. But that night, the media reported that Beth had spiked a high fever after I left, nearly dying. Everyone, including Roger, believed I had pushed her to the brink of death. I had no way to defend myself. Later, at a high-society gala, I saw her again. I lost control. I had my bodyguards force her to her knees in front of everyone who mattered in the city and slapped her twice across the face. That was the day my relationship with Roger shattered completely. … “Miss Derek?” Her sister’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. The past felt like a long, terrible dream. But now, standing before me was a very much alive Beth. And Roger and I had not yet reached the point of mutual hatred. I raised my glass, looking at the woman my husband had obsessed over for a lifetime. A wry smile played on my lips. “No need to thank me. Roger always wanted to save you anyway. If you want to thank someone, thank him.” I couldn’t take credit for his choice. Beth dared to look up, her eyes studying me, as if she couldn’t believe I was letting her off so easily. Just then, a waiter entered with a large tureen of soup. Beth and I were standing closest to him. With a sudden cry of alarm from Beth, the entire pot of scalding soup tipped over, splashing directly onto her.

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The day my tycoon father, Richard Sterling, finally acknowledged me, he tossed a black card at my feet. It came with one rule: “Spend whatever you want, but only Lily gets to call me Dad.” I clutched that limitless card, my hand trembling, and cautiously bought myself a simple dollar soft-serve cone. I was savoring the sweet, cold bliss on my tongue when Lily, the girl who had stolen my life, dropped to her knees before me. “Sister,” she wailed, tears streaming down her face, “are you mocking me? Showing me that soon, I won’t even be able to afford something this cheap?” In a flash, my brother, Caleb, slapped me. Twice. The sting was sharp, but his words cut deeper. “You may have his money, Anna, but you’ll never have his love. Lily is my only sister.” Then my father sealed my fate, snatching a cup of tea from a nearby table and splashing the scalding liquid across my face. “Someone so common,” he sneered, “has no place in the Sterling family.” As punishment, they exiled me, shipping me off to a forgotten, war-torn desert outpost to fend for myself. Ten years later… I burst into the grand ballroom, clutching a fresh ice cream cone, and collided with Caleb. He was immaculate in a bespoke suit, the very picture of wealth and power. “Still haven’t learned a shred of class after all these years, have you?” he muttered, his lip curling in disgust. I had no time for his games. “Let go of me. My father’s waiting, and this ice cream is going to melt.” He looked down his nose at me, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. “Father? Who gave you permission to use that word? The only Sterling heiress is Lily. No one will ever take her place!” I rolled my eyes. As if I was talking about his father. I was talking about my adoptive father, the Sheikh who had saved me, a man with a legendary sweet tooth. I couldn’t wait for him to try this flavor. I craned my neck, frantically searching the crowd for a familiar face. This was supposed to be my brother’s engagement party. The butler had given me this address. Caleb’s grip on my arm tightened. “This hall is filled with the elite of Ashmore. Someone like you will only bring shame to the Sterling name.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “I’m not a Sterling. How could I possibly embarrass you?” He winced as if I’d struck him, but his pride wouldn’t let him back down. “Spoken like a true country hick. All you have are sharp words and a chip on your shoulder.” I wrenched my arm free and tried to step past him. A security guard blocked my path, his eyes raking over me with undisguised contempt. “This isn’t a soup kitchen for every stray cat and dog.” He turned to his colleague, his voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “Look at this beggar, trying to crash the party for a free meal. Doesn’t she know her place?” I glanced down at myself. In my rush, my custom-made pink dress had become smudged and dirty. Caleb’s voice dripped with disappointment. “So, just because the family won’t accept you, you throw your life away and become a beggar? Have you no shame?” “Get lost!” the guard barked. I frowned, my patience wearing thin. “I’m here for my family’s engagement party.” My brother—my real brother—was expanding his business back in the States and had found a suitable match for a strategic union here. My father and I had flown in directly from our mountain retreat to celebrate with him and my future sister-in-law. A strange, knowing smile touched Caleb’s lips. “Family? You claim you have no designs on the Sterlings, yet you dare call yourself one of us?” A flicker of confusion crossed my mind. Was someone from the Sterling family also getting engaged today? “Ten years abroad and you still haven’t learned your lesson,” he continued, his tone turning righteous. “I was actually going to be merciful, convince Dad to let you back into the family. But now I see you’re completely unrepentant!” I scoffed inwardly. So, he remembered I’d been gone for a decade. When I first arrived in that desolate corner of the Middle East at twelve, I was utterly alone. I cried myself to sleep every night, the sounds of distant gunfire and roaring jets a constant, terrifying lullaby. I lived under the shadow of death. Then, by a stroke of luck, I found a man left for dead after an ambush. I nursed him back to health, fighting for scraps of food in the refugee camp and always giving him half. When he was finally strong enough to stand, he took me “home”—to a gleaming, eighty-story skyscraper that pierced the clouds. I was speechless. I learned then that the “war” was a turf dispute between powerful tycoons. The man I had saved, my adoptive father, had been left for dead by his rivals. My saving him gave him the chance to rise again, to crush his enemies and absorb their empires. After that, the fighting in our region stopped. I was seen as a lucky charm, a bringer of peace. I became known to all as the Sheikh’s daughter, the Oil Princess. If the Sterlings had shown even a flicker of concern for me in those ten years, a single phone call, they would have known. They would have known I’d been adopted by one of the most powerful men in the world. Just as I was about to speak, a bright voice cut through the tension. “Big brother, it’s my special day! No fighting, okay?” A girl in a frilly pink dress emerged from the ballroom, glowing like the morning sun. But when I saw her face, a violent tremor shot through my body. She looked just like Martha, the woman who had kept me captive in a landfill. For eight years, my world was nothing but mountains of refuse. I ate sour, rotting scraps to survive and slept on a pillow of garbage. My eyes opened each day to an endless horizon of trash. I was finally rescued when social workers tracked me down and returned me to the Sterlings. That’s when I learned the truth: I was the real Sterling heiress, swapped at birth by that monstrous woman. The first time I saw Lily, dressed in silks and lace, I had burst into tears, begging Richard not to send her away. I knew the horrors of the life she was meant to have, and I couldn’t bear for anyone else to suffer it. The moment Lily’s eyes met mine now, the hatred and jealousy in them were raw and unfiltered. She deliberately stumbled, crashing into me. My ice cream cone splattered onto the marble floor. “Oh, goodness! I’m so sorry, Anna,” she simpered, her voice sickly sweet. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.” I stared down at the milky puddle. In the landfill, you could find almost any kind of trash, but never ice cream. I used to dream about what it tasted like. That’s why, when I got that black card, the very first thing I bought for myself was a cheap, one-dollar cone. And I remembered the hell that followed. Seeing me stare at the mess, Lily’s eyes danced with triumph. “I was just so excited to see you! I was telling Daddy just the other day how we should bring you back for my engagement party.” She flashed her hand, showing off a diamond the size of a pigeon’s egg. My heart stopped. I had personally chosen that ring. It was a gift for my future sister-in-law. Don’t tell me… my brother’s fiancée is Lily? Caleb wrapped a protective arm around her, stroking her hair. “How did this beggar even sneak back into the country? It must be because our Lily is just too kind-hearted!” He shot me a venomous glare. “Aren’t you going to thank her? You have no manners at all!” he spat. I laughed, a hollow, bitter sound. “Manners? How could I, when I had a father who wouldn’t raise me and a brother who disowned me? All for the sake of a fake.” The guests who had gathered at the entrance began to whisper among themselves. “I heard the Sterlings had a long-lost daughter. Could that be her?” “What a tragedy. Her whole life stolen by an imposter. If not for that, she’d be the one marrying the Oil Prince today.” “You—!” Caleb raised his hand to strike me again. But as his eyes met mine, he hesitated, his hand falling to his side. His voice softened slightly. “Fine. How much can an ice cream cone cost? I’ll pay you back ten times over.” “Don’t bother,” I said, my voice flat. “I don’t need your money.” No amount of money could buy back the love I had lost. He clenched his fists. “If you didn’t have Mom’s eyes, do you think I’d give you a second glance after all your pathetic stunts? You can kneel and beg all you want today, but I will never acknowledge you as my sister!” He angrily pulled out his phone to transfer me the money, then froze. The screen showed an error message: This bank card has been frozen. “How is this possible?” he stammered. “You haven’t been using the money the family sent you?” His gaze shifted, a flicker of something—surprise? Pity?—in his eyes. The card had been useless since the day I arrived in the desert. Did he really think I had been living off the Sterlings’ charity all these years? Seeing his expression, Lily’s eyes instantly filled with tears. “Sister, ten years ago, you were so desperate to get rid of me that you let a vagrant into my room…” I felt the world tilt. That was her lie. Her vicious, unforgivable lie. “I’ve finally managed to forget that trauma and find my happiness,” she sobbed. “Why won’t you let me go? I never meant to steal your life!” A chilling smile spread across my face. “You should thank your lucky stars you did. That house was so small, I could barely breathe.” Ten years ago, I had screamed myself hoarse trying to explain, to make them believe me. All I got for my trouble was a slap from the people I thought were my family. Laughter rippled through the crowd. “Is this girl insane? The Sterling mansion is one of the grandest estates in Ashmore. She could barely breathe?” “No wonder they disowned her. A social climber like that would only tarnish their name.” “I bet she only crawled back because she heard the Sterlings were making an alliance with the Al-Hamad family.” “You can’t blame her. That’s real royalty. Ten Sterling families combined wouldn’t equal a fraction of the Sheikh’s wealth.” Caleb shielded Lily protectively, his eyes filled with disgust for me. “How long are you going to keep up this act? Even if we share the same blood, I won’t let you hurt her!” “Today is Lily’s engagement. Get out!” Her special day? What a joke. My brother chose this date because it was the one day I had off. He never even wanted a big engagement party. “It’s just a business arrangement,” he’d said. “Purely transactional.” I was the one who insisted he make it public, to give my sister-in-law the respect she deserved. I stood my ground. “Are you sure you want me to leave? Because if I go, this engagement party is over.” Lily’s face twisted in fury. “Who the hell do you think you are!” Realizing she’d dropped her mask, she quickly composed herself. “Sister, you must have heard of my fiancé during your time in the desert. After all, he is the famous Oil Prince.” “Of course, I’ve heard of him,” I replied coolly. At my admission, a smug, arrogant look spread across her face. “Heard of him?” I continued, my voice level. “We see each other every day. We grew up together.” A wave of shocked murmurs swept through the room. Lily’s eyes darted to the necklace I was wearing, and her pupils constricted. “Where did you get that necklace?!” she shrieked, lunging forward and ripping it from my neck. The chain scraped my skin, and I cried out in pain. “Give that back!” I shouted, a surge of panic rising in my chest. Lily held the necklace up, comparing it to her diamond ring. It was a perfect match. The necklace and ring were a set, my adoptive mother’s favorite jewelry before she passed away. I remember the day the Sheikh brought me home. I was so timid, hiding behind him, peering out at the vast, opulent villa. His wife had knelt down and gently wiped the grime from my face with a warm towel. It was the first kindness I had known since birth. I had thrown myself into her arms, greedily soaking in a mother’s love. Lily’s eyes were now blazing with fire. “You filthy slut! You dare to seduce my fiancé?” “What are you talking about? Give me back my necklace!” I reached for it, desperate to retrieve the last thing I had of my mother. Her face was a mask of pure malice. “The money he spent on you should have been mine!” Caleb looked from her to the necklace, confused. “Lily, it’s just a piece of plastic, isn’t it?” She looked up at him, her eyes wide and pleading. “Caleb, I’ve seen this necklace on Liam before! And now she has it! She’s doing this on purpose, trying to steal him from me!” “So she’s a mistress!” someone sneered from the crowd. “I knew she looked like a cheap tramp.” “And she’s a Sterling? I guess their family isn’t as prestigious as they claim.” Caleb stared at me, his face a storm of disappointment. He slapped me, hard. “I was going to ask Dad to let you work here as a maid!” he raged. “But you’re out here doing this… this filth! Just because Lily took your place, you have to ruin her life’s happiness?” My cheek burned. “Do you have any idea what my eight years in that landfill were like?” I shot back, my voice trembling with suppressed rage. “That was supposed to be her life!” My eyes stung with unshed tears. I pulled out my phone to call my brother and tell him to call this whole sham off. Before I could dial, Lily snatched the phone from my hand. “Look, Caleb! Her phone wallpaper is a photo of her and Liam! And she still denies being his mistress!” she screamed. “No wonder a beggar like her is so arrogant!” I laughed, a cold, sharp sound. “So this is the ‘class’ of a Sterling heiress? Spreading rumors and accusing people of sordid affairs?” Caleb’s eyes widened in disbelief. Lily paled. “That’s impossible…” I snatched my phone back and quickly dialed my brother’s number. “Hey, Anna, where are you?” Liam’s warm voice came through the speaker. “Brother, I’m at—” Before I could finish, Lily grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked. I screamed in pain, and the phone clattered to the floor, shattering into pieces. She wrapped her hands around my throat, squeezing. “You slept with him, didn’t you!” she shrieked, her face contorted with hate. “Calling him ‘brother’… how disgustingly intimate.” My vision started to blur. I clawed at her hands, desperate for air, my eyes pleading with the silent onlookers. “I’m not a mistress,” I gasped, my voice a hoarse whisper. “Liam is my brother. I am the Sheikh’s daughter!” The entire room erupted in laughter. “The Sheikh’s daughter? Buying a dollar ice cream cone?” “That’s the best joke I’ve heard all year! Why not just say you’re the President’s daughter while you’re at it?” Lily stomped her foot. “Caleb, look at her! She’s turning our family into a laughingstock!” Caleb’s face flushed with shame at the jeers. He kicked me hard in the stomach. “You shameless piece of trash!” I flew back several feet, landing hard on the marble. I coughed, a spray of blood speckling the white floor. No one would help me. No one here would save me. I clenched my fists, praying, begging for my father and brother to appear. “You’ve disgraced the Sterling name! Today, I’m going to clean house!” Caleb roared. A group of security guards closed in around me. My heart seized in my chest. I squeezed my hands tight, my prayer growing more desperate. Please, please hurry. “Insolence! What do you think you’re doing?” a deep voice boomed. Suddenly, the crowd parted. A fleet of luxury sedans had pulled up silently behind me. The guards scrambled, fawning as they rushed to open the car doors. An old man, radiating an aura of immense power, stepped out of the lead car. I looked up, my heart soaring with a desperate, fragile hope. And in that instant, my hope shattered and plunged into a bottomless abyss. It wasn’t my adoptive father. It was my biological one. Richard Sterling. For a split second, as his eyes met mine, I saw a flicker of paternal love. Then, just as quickly, it vanished, replaced by his usual cold authority. Lily ran to him, clinging to his arm. “Daddy, my sister is bullying me!” Without a word, without a single question, Richard strode forward and struck me across the face. Twice. The slaps were loud and sharp in the stunned silence.

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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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