Category: English

I fought my way up from nothing, clawing a name for myself in my field before most people my age had even started. To the world, I am a man of integrity, a respected figure. But no one values the reputation I’ve bled for more than I do. Which is why it’s so damning that I’ve developed… feelings for one of my students. When she stands before me, earnestly reporting on her project’s progress, her lips parting with each word, a single, forbidden thought seizes my mind: What would it feel like to kiss her? But a secret of this magnitude could never stay hidden from my wife. She noticed the change in me. And then, with an unnerving calm, she asked, “Do you want to sleep with her?” Before I could even process the question, she delivered a second blow, one that left me reeling. “I can help you.” Fear, cold and sharp, pierced through me. I didn’t have the courage to act on this twisted infatuation. 1 I stared at her, utterly stunned. My wife, Audrey, simply adjusted her glasses, her expression as placid and scholarly as ever. “Don’t look at me like that, Julian. Scientific studies have shown that romantic love only has a shelf life of about seven years.” “Lifelong monogamy is, by its very nature, anti-human.” “Besides, for a man of your stature, having a… confidante… is perfectly normal.” “What’s the catch?” I asked, my eyes fixed on her. She never did anything without a price. Audrey slid a bank card across the table. “Tomorrow, deposit one million dollars into this account. I have a use for it.” I didn’t hesitate for long. A million dollars was nothing to me now. The next day, Audrey invited the student to our home. Her name was Anna. She had wide, doe-like eyes that sparkled with an innocent light. Anna greeted us both with a respectful deference, then her eyes began to wander around the room. A blush crept up her cheeks. “Is… is Finn not home?” she asked, her voice soft. The girl’s crush was written all over her face. And Finn… Finn was my son. A hot spike of anger shot through me. The woman I wanted was in love with my own son. Just then, Audrey returned with a fruit platter. “Finn went to see the Northern Lights with some friends,” she explained to Anna, her voice warm and motherly. “But with the holidays coming up, the house feels so empty. We were hoping you could keep us old folks company. You don’t mind, do you?” Anna quickly assured her she didn’t. Audrey was an exceptional cook. The table was laden with an extravagant feast. Throughout the meal, she kept pouring wine for Anna, who was too polite to refuse. Eventually, the girl couldn’t drink anymore. “I think I’ve had a bit too much,” she said, her words slightly slurred. “I don’t think I can make it back to the dorm.” Audrey, ever the expert on a young girl’s heart, said, “Oh, don’t you worry about that. You can stay the night here.” “Finn will be back tomorrow. He can give you a ride.” Anna’s face flushed a deep crimson. She didn’t object. In fact, she seemed to be deliberately trying to get drunk. The knot in my stomach tightened. She was still just a naive young girl. It didn’t take long before she was slumped over the table, fast asleep. I glared at my wife. “You knew she was in love with Finn.” Audrey didn’t answer. Instead, she lifted the hem of Anna’s skirt, revealing a pale, slender calf. Her hand stroked the smooth skin. “So young,” she said with a cold sneer. “Like a flower bud, ready to bloom.” “So tender you could practically squeeze water from her skin. No wonder my husband and my son are so bewitched.” I stared at her, my voice low. “So the million dollars was only part of it.” “The real reason is you want to keep her away from Finn.” Audrey took a sip of her wine. “Julian, you and I both crawled our way out of the gutter. No one knows the struggle better than we do. Our son will stand on our shoulders and climb higher, reach for things we never could.” “He will not marry some country girl who survives on financial aid, a girl who can’t even afford to go home for the holidays.” “Marriage is a tool for consolidating class, and I will not be careless with it.” Finally, her plan became clear. Helping me get Anna was one thing. More importantly, she wanted to destroy any chance of a future between her and our son. As she spoke, she gestured for me to help her carry Anna to a bedroom. The moment my hands touched Anna’s arm, her delicate, youthful scent washed over me, intoxicating. I intended to take her to the guest room. But Audrey walked straight toward our master bedroom. She shot me a sharp look. “Has lust addled your brain? If we put her in our room, we can say she was drunk and stumbled in by mistake. How would you explain her being in the guest room?” Her accusation stung, but my mind was already consumed by Anna. Her flawless skin, her intoxicating fragrance… it was all I could think about. I didn’t have the energy to argue. When we got to the bedroom, I expected Audrey to leave. Instead, she stayed. And then, one by one, she began to unbutton Anna’s blouse. I grabbed her hand, shocked. “What are you doing?” Audrey looked at me with derision. “Have you been on your pedestal for so long you’ve forgotten the laws of the jungle?” “If you sleep with her tonight, do you really think you can rely on her morals to keep her quiet forever? Don’t be a fool.” She stared at me, her voice a low, sharp whisper. “Never forget, Julian. Blackmail is a far more effective silencer than morality.” With that, she ripped the remaining clothes from Anna’s body. In an instant, Anna was completely bare before me. I swallowed hard. Audrey pulled out her phone and began to meticulously photograph every part of Anna’s body. When she was finished, she looked at me with satisfaction. “Before I decided to help you, I did a thorough background check. Her family is dirt poor. They’ve sacrificed everything to send her to university, hoping she’ll be their ticket out.” “They love her, of course. But they love their reputation more. The phrase ‘pride comes before a fall’ exists for a reason.” “If she makes a scene, we can threaten to print these photos and plaster them all over her hometown.” I stared at my wife, a chill running down my spine. Yes. After years of success, we had both softened, tamed our baser instincts. I had almost forgotten that at our core, we were both predators. As we stood there, a video call came in from Finn. Audrey and I exchanged a look and walked out to the living room. She glanced in the mirror, composed her face into a warm smile, and answered the call. On the screen, Finn was grinning under the aurora borealis. He showed us the vast, beautiful landscape, promising to take us with him next year. Just before he hung up, he said, “Everyone here is so jealous that I have you guys as parents. Mom, Dad, I love you. You’ll always be my heroes.” After the call, Audrey began to organize the photos, already drafting a statement. As a professor with degrees in both law and literature, she was a master of words, particularly skilled at this kind of damage control. I, on the other hand, couldn’t wait any longer. I went back to the bedroom. Looking at Anna’s peaceful, sleeping face, I leaned in without a moment’s hesitation. Anna was a delicate flower, and tonight, she would bloom for me. With that thought, I threw back the covers. My hand began to wander downwards. Halfway through, Anna stirred, her eyes fluttering open. I held my breath, quickly turning off the lights. In the dim moonlight, I saw her blink a few times. I expected her to scream, to fight. But instead, her arms wrapped around my neck. “Finn,” she whispered, her voice thick with sleep. “I thought you weren’t coming back until tomorrow.” Seeing the shy, adoring look on her face, my own gaze darkened. It was true. I looked a lot like my son. And years of a comfortable life had kept me well-preserved. In the dark, it would be easy to mistake us. But to have her in my bed, whispering another man’s name… it infuriated me. Even if that man was my son. My tenderness vanished. And then… With a small, sharp cry from Anna, I took her completely. Afterwards, I looked at the stain of blood on the sheets. I pressed a light kiss to her forehead. Such a pure, clean girl. Not like my wife, a sullied, used thing. When Anna woke up the next morning, she was huddled in a corner of the bed, clutching the sheets to her chest. Her eyes were wide with disbelief and brimming with tears. “Why?” she choked out. “Why did this happen?” I was trying to think of an explanation when Audrey pushed the door open. Her expression was grave, a mask of righteous indignation that could turn black into white. She looked at Anna. “Anna, this happened last night while I was in the shower. By the time I came out, it was too late. I sat in the living room all night, thinking.” “Why would a student of mine, a brilliant young woman I considered a future daughter-in-law, climb into my husband’s bed?”

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During a routine inspection at St. Jude Medical Center, I went to the cafeteria for lunch. After picking up an extra meal for my sister Clara, who interns there, I overheard whispers as I walked toward a quiet corner. Someone recognized Dr. Norris from Dental and wondered about the new person sitting with her. Before I could react, a furious young doctor rushed over and punched me in the face. “Who do you think you are, pretty boy? Trying to flirt with my girl?” he yelled. My sister panicked, grabbing his arm. “Jacob, stop! It’s not what it looks like!” But he shoved her away, gripped my wrist, and insisted, “We’re going to the Chief of Staff!” I tried to explain. “You’re mistaken. We’re just friends.” He scoffed. “Don’t lie. Come on!” I sighed inwardly, blaming my youthful face. He dragged me into the Chief’s office, shouting, “Mom! This new intern is already hitting on someone’s girlfriend! This guy has no ethics—fire him now!” The Chief turned, her expression dark, and snapped at me, “Which department are you from? Give me your supervisor’s number. You’re fired, effective immediately.” I couldn’t help a faint smile. Calmly, I replied, “I’d be glad to give you the number. I’m just not sure you’d dare call it.” 1 Monday morning, eight-thirty. I pulled up to St. Jude Medical Center. My mission today was an undercover inspection. The County Health Commission had received several complaints about this place: overcharging, ghost employees, substandard equipment. The office wanted me to lead a team down here to investigate. My name is Alexander Stone, Deputy Director of the Medical Oversight Division at the County Health Commission. By rights, I should have walked in with my badge prominently displayed. But for an undercover visit, discretion was key. Today, I’d deliberately dressed down in a white tee, jeans, and styled my short hair casually. A subtle pin-style body cam was attached to my shirt. With this face, I could easily pass for a college student. After parking, I headed straight in. Just inside the entrance, I immediately spotted a stack of cardboard boxes blocking the fire escape. Snap. Photo taken. Further in, a fire extinguisher on a hallway corner had its pressure gauge in the red zone. Snap. Another photo. The outpatient lobby was packed, but only two registration windows were open. Three others sat dark. A nurse at the reception desk was engrossed in her phone. An elderly gentleman approached her, holding a form and asking for directions, but she didn’t even look up. “Third floor, left.” The old man, hard of hearing, asked again. The nurse’s voice sharpened with impatience. “Third floor! Left! Can’t you hear me?” The old man shuffled away, looking embarrassed. I documented all of it. Plenty of issues. But no rush today. First, gather information, collect evidence. I’d write the report back at the office, then deal with it officially. I took the stairs to the second floor, glancing specifically at the Dental Department. My sister, Clara Stone, was interning there. She’d just graduated from State Medical University this year and was assigned here for her residency. She’d called me earlier, complaining about the terrible cafeteria food and asking me to bring her something if I had a chance. Perfect timing. I didn’t go into the department to disturb her, opting instead to walk the entire building first. The inpatient ward wasn’t much better in terms of hygiene. A persistent, musty smell hung in the corridors, which even the disinfectant couldn’t quite mask. A notice posted in the pharmacy window was so faded it was almost illegible. Everything was photographed and recorded. Around eleven-thirty, I sent Clara a text. “Where’s the cafeteria? Your brother’s bringing food.” She replied instantly: “First floor, east end. What are you doing here?” “Work trip, just passing through. Keep it on the down-low.” “Got it, big bro.” When I arrived at the cafeteria, lunch had just started, so it wasn’t too crowded. I got two meals: a braised pork combo and sweet and sour ribs. Clara loves meat. Carrying both trays, I found a corner table and sat down. A few minutes later, Clara, in her white lab coat, came scurrying over. “Alex!” She sat down and immediately started shoveling food into her mouth. “Slow down, no one’s going to steal it.” “Only forty minutes for lunch break, gotta be quick.” Her voice was muffled by food. “This hospital only gives residents forty minutes for lunch?” “Yeah, Dr. Patton set that rule. Residents and interns can’t go over their lunch time.” “Which Dr. Patton?” “The big boss here, Emily Patton.” I filed that name away. “How are you settling in?” Clara paused, her chopsticks hovering. “It’s… okay, I guess.” “What do you mean ‘okay’? Spill it.” “Well… some of the senior staff in the department are a bit difficult. They dump all the work on the residents and then make us take the fall if anything goes wrong.” “Any specific instances?” “Last week, a patient complained about a treatment plan. It was clearly the attending’s decision, but I ended up having to write a reflection report.” I put down my chopsticks. “Why didn’t you tell me?” “What’s the point? It’s like this for residents in every hospital, isn’t it?” I was about to respond when I heard two nurses at the next table whispering. “See that? Isn’t that the new Dr. Stone from Dental?” “Yeah, who’s the guy eating with her? Haven’t seen him before.” “No idea, he looks pretty young. Boyfriend, maybe?” “Don’t even joke. Isn’t she dating Dr. Patton’s son?” “You never know. If Jacob finds out, she’s in deep trouble…” I didn’t pay it much mind, going back to my food. Clara, however, heard them and her face visibly changed. “Alex, eat fast. Finish up and get out of here.” “What’s wrong?” “Nothing, just… my boyfriend has a bit of a temper.” “Your boyfriend?” “Yeah, Dr. Patton’s son, Jacob Miller. He’s a doctor here too.” “You’re dating and you didn’t tell the family?” “It’s not that serious yet.” “The Chief of Staff’s son, huh?” I raised an eyebrow. “Good for you, kiddo.” “What? He’s the one who chased me.” “Alright, alright.” I didn’t press further. But I made a mental note. The Chief of Staff’s son working in the hospital she manages… wasn’t that a conflict of interest? I’d have to check if he went through proper hiring procedures. I’d just finished my last bite when I heard a rapid series of footsteps at the cafeteria entrance. Clatter, clatter, hurrying. Clara’s chopsticks clattered onto the table. “Oh, no.” Before I could react, a young man in a white lab coat burst through the crowd. Early twenties, short hair, a scowl on his face. He stared at me for two seconds. Then he turned to Clara. “Who?” Just one word. Everyone eating nearby started to look over. I put down my chopsticks and stood up, intending to explain. “Hello, I’m—” Before I could finish. Whack! A fist slammed directly into my left cheek. The entire cafeteria went silent. My face burned, and my ears rang. Jacob stood with his arms crossed, pointing a finger at my nose. “Which department are you from? You’re just a little intern, got some nerve, huh? Trying to steal someone’s girlfriend?” Clara frantically grabbed his arm. “Jacob! Are you out of your mind? He’s—” “You shut up!” Jacob shoved her hand away, his eyes wide with fury. “I’ve heard rumors about guys trying to hit on you, and today I finally caught one!” I clutched my face and took a deep breath. “You’ve got it wrong. We’re not involved like that.” “Not involved like that? You bought her food, you’re sitting at the same table, you’re laughing and joking around, and you’re telling me you’re not involved like that?” “I’m her—” “Don’t bother! I don’t want to hear your made-up stories!” The crowd in the cafeteria grew larger, some people pulling out their phones to record. A few nurses whispered in the back. “Oh my god, Jacob actually hit him.” “Who’s that guy? I can’t believe it.” “He’s got some serious guts, messing with the Chief of Staff’s son.” “He’s toast.” Hearing these comments, Jacob straightened up even more. He grabbed my wrist, his fingers digging in painfully. “Let’s go! We’re going straight to the Chief of Staff!” “Let go of me first,” I said, my voice calm. “Let go? If I don’t get this sorted out today, I’m changing my last name!” He started dragging me out. Clara ran after us, blocking our way. “Jacob! Just calm down! He’s really my brother! His name is Alexander, he’s—” “I don’t care what he’s called!” Jacob flung her aside. “Don’t try to fool me with some made-up name! Your brother? Do you think I’m three years old? How come I’ve never seen your brother? You told me you were an only child here!” Clara choked. I understood. This girl had completely omitted mentioning her brother to him for the sake of her relationship. I shot her a glare over my shoulder. Clara shrunk her neck. “I… I did say I was here alone before…” “Hear that?” Jacob sneered. “Can’t even keep your own story straight, and you’re still defending this pretty boy?” He was surprisingly strong, dragging me out of the cafeteria. People in the hallway quickly made way, their gazes filled with sympathy. As a male doctor brushed past, he murmured, “This kid’s finished. Cross Jacob, and you can forget about making it in this hospital.” I was hauled along the corridor, past the emergency room entrance. Several interns poked their heads out to gawk. One female intern recognized Jacob and quickly ducked back inside. As we reached the elevators, I finally spoke. “Shouldn’t you figure out the situation before you start throwing punches? What if you hit the wrong person?” Jacob’s hand paused on the elevator button. He turned and glared at me. “Hit the wrong person? With that face, that age, hovering around my girlfriend, you think hitting you was wrong?” “Have you ever seen a thirty-two-year-old intern?” “Thirty-two?” He looked me up and down. “Who are you trying to fool? Look at that face, you’re barely twenty-something.” “I told you, you’re mistaken.” “Enough talk! You can explain it all in the Chief of Staff’s office!” The elevator doors opened, and he pushed me in. Clara squeezed in after us, her face ashen. Two other doctors in white coats were already in the elevator; seeing the commotion, they quietly retreated to a corner. On the sixth floor, the Chief of Staff’s office was at the end of the corridor. Jacob dragged me forward with big strides, his shoes echoing loudly through the entire floor. As we passed the administrative office, several staff members peered out of their windows. A middle-aged man whispered, “Here we go again. Jacob’s causing trouble again.” “Who’d he get this time?” “Don’t recognize him, looks new.” The Chief of Staff’s office door was flung open by Jacob. The door crashed against the wall, making the teacup lid on the desk clatter. Inside, a woman in her fifties, wearing gold-rimmed glasses and with her hair impeccably styled, was reading documents. Emily Patton. Chief of Staff of St. Jude Medical Center. And Jacob’s mother. “Mom!” Jacob let go of me and rushed to the desk. Emily Patton looked up, a frown on her face. “What is it? What’s all this ruckus during working hours?” “Mom, look at this guy!” Jacob turned and pointed at me. “A new intern, running off to the cafeteria during work hours to hit on someone else’s girlfriend – my girlfriend! Do we really need someone like this in our hospital?” Emily Patton followed his finger to me. I stood in the doorway, my left cheek still a little red, but my expression calm. “Which department are you from?” Emily Patton asked. I remained silent. “Mom! He’s not from our hospital, he must be some outsider who snuck in! This kind of morally bankrupt man needs to be reported to security!” Emily Patton waved him quiet, turning her gaze back to me. “I’ll ask you one more time. Which department are you from? What’s your name?” Clara squeezed in from behind. “Dr. Patton—” “It’s Chief of Staff!” Emily Patton shot her a glance. Clara swallowed. “Chief of Staff Patton, this is a misunderstanding. He’s really my brother, not some—” “Your brother?” Jacob cut her off. “You said you were the only one from your family in this city. Now suddenly a brother pops up? Do you take me for a fool?” “I… I didn’t mention him before, but he really is my brother!” “You shut up.” Emily Patton’s words silenced Clara. Emily Patton stood up, walked around her desk, and stood before me, looking down. “Regardless of who you are, causing trouble in my hospital and disrupting my son’s work and life, I have to deal with this.” I looked up at her. “Chief of Staff, it was your son who publicly slapped me. Who exactly is causing trouble here?” Emily Patton’s eyelid twitched. “He hit you? Jacob, you laid hands on him?” Jacob retorted, his voice full of self-righteousness. “He was hitting on my girlfriend first! What’s wrong with me hitting him?” Emily Patton sighed, but clearly had no intention of reprimanding her son. She turned back to me. “I don’t care what the situation is between you two. If you’re an intern, give me your internship certificate and your attending’s contact information. If you’re an outsider who snuck into our hospital, I’ll call security right now to have you escorted out.” “I’m not an intern.” “Not an intern?” Emily Patton adjusted her glasses. “Then what is your identity?” Jacob interjected, “He must be some outsider clinging to Clara! Mom, call security now!” “Hold on.” Emily Patton stopped him. She scrutinized me again. My white tee, jeans, and ordinary canvas bag indeed didn’t draw much attention. “What exactly is your identity?” “Let me ask you a question first,” I said. “What right do you have to ask me questions?” “Is your son working in a hospital under your jurisdiction through the proper hiring process?” The air in the office froze. Emily Patton’s face changed. Jacob paused for a second, then immediately jumped up. “What are you implying? You’re an outsider, what business is it of yours where I work?” “Exactly, Chief of Staff. Are your son’s employment documents, qualifications, and recruitment process all in order?” Emily Patton stared at me, her Adam’s apple bobbing. “Who exactly are you?” “Didn’t you just ask me for my supervisor’s number?” “Yes, give me your supervisor’s number! No – answer my question first!” “No, let’s just make the call.” I pulled out my phone from my pocket, scrolled through my contacts, and found a number. “Dial this number, and you’ll know exactly who I am.” I turned the phone screen towards her. Emily Patton’s pupils contracted as she looked at the number. The contact’s name was four simple words. She recognized those four words. “What’s wrong, Mom? Dial it!” Jacob urged. Emily Patton didn’t move. Her hand began to tremble. 2 No one spoke in the office. Jacob waited for his mother to speak for a long time, but she remained silent. He walked over and peered at the phone screen himself. “Director… Dawson?” He read out the contact name. Director Dawson. Head of the County Health Commission, Arthur Dawson. Jacob’s brain clearly wasn’t processing things as fast as his mother’s. “Who’s Director Dawson, Mom?” Emily Patton ignored him, her eyes fixed on me. “You’re with the Health Commission?” I put my phone away and pulled a blue leather ID case from my canvas bag. I flipped it open and handed it to her. County Health and Wellness Commission, Medical Oversight Division, Deputy Director. My photo was there, embossed with the red seal. Emily Patton took the ID, looked at it three times. Her hand was still shaking. “Deputy… Deputy Director Stone?” Her voice had changed completely. “Not Director, Deputy Director,” I corrected. Jacob still hadn’t caught on. “Mom, what Deputy Director? Isn’t he an intern?” Emily Patton turned to look at him, her expression unreadable – her mouth agape, as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t. “I am the Deputy Director of the Medical Oversight Division at the County Health Commission,” I repeated to him directly. “I’m here today to conduct an unannounced inspection of your hospital. That slap you gave me? Many people in the cafeteria recorded it, and my body cam recorded the whole thing too.” Jacob’s face visibly drained of all color. “You… what did you say?” “I said, I’m here to investigate your hospital. You publicly slapped me today, and the handprint is still on my face. Want to take a look?” I turned my left cheek towards him. Five red, distinct finger marks. Jacob took a step back, bumping into a chair. “No… impossible. You’re so young, how could you be a Deputy Director…” “Thirty-two years old, serving as a Section Chief level Deputy Director. One of the youngest Section Chiefs in the city. You can check the promotion notice online from last year.” Jacob looked at Clara. She stood in the doorway, head bowed, barely daring to breathe. “So he really is your brother?” Clara nodded. “I told you several times, but you wouldn’t believe me.” Jacob’s legs gave out, and he sank onto the chair. Emily Patton handed my ID back, wiping sweat from her forehead. “Deputy Director Stone… this is all our fault… Jacob is young and foolish…” “Young and foolish is an excuse for hitting people?” “No, no, that’s not what I meant…” “Chief Patton, let me ask you, did you receive the rectification notice sent by the Health Commission last month?” Emily Patton paused. “What… what rectification notice?” “The one concerning fire safety, medical equipment annual inspections, and outpatient service quality. Three copies were sent: one official hard copy, two by email. Are you telling me you didn’t receive it?” Emily Patton’s lips moved. “I… I had the office manager handle it.” “And the results of that handling? The rectification report?” “That… should be in the process…” “I walked through your hospital this morning. Fire exits blocked with clutter, expired fire extinguishers, less than forty percent of outpatient windows open. Reception nurses on their phones during shifts, a strange odor in the inpatient ward corridors, illegible notices in the pharmacy. Is this what you mean by ‘in the process’?” With each point I made, Emily Patton’s face grew paler. “These issues… I’m really not aware of them…” “You’re not aware? You’re the Chief of Staff, and you’re not aware?” Emily Patton opened her mouth, but no words came out. A crowd had gathered at the office door, I hadn’t even noticed when. Several administrative staff, and a few department heads passing by, were all peering inside. A middle-aged man whispered, “It’s the Health Commission, an undercover inspection.” The rumor spread like wildfire. In less than five minutes, the entire floor knew. News traveled faster through the hospital than any official notice. Before I even left the Chief of Staff’s office, my phone rang. “Alex, this is Sarah from Oversight. Director Dawson wants me to ask about the situation on site. Do you need us to send people over?” “Yes, send them. Bring Lily with you, and officially file today’s inspection records.” “Understood, arranging it now.” I hung up and looked at Emily Patton. “Chief Patton, by regulation, after an undercover inspection, I need to write a formal oversight report. Regarding the issues I just mentioned, what do you have to say now?” Emily Patton stood behind her desk, gripping the back of her chair, her knuckles white. “Deputy Director Stone, some things… could we sit down and discuss them first?” “Fine, let’s discuss.” I pulled up a chair and sat. Jacob was still in the adjacent chair, hunched over, not making a sound. “First issue,” I said, opening my phone’s notepad. “Your son, Jacob Miller, is a doctor at this hospital. Through what channels was he hired?” Emily Patton hesitated. “Normal public recruitment.” “Public recruitment? Can you provide the recruitment announcement, written exam scores, interview records, and public notice document?” “Those… HR should have them archived.” “Then please have HR send the materials over now.” Emily Patton picked up the desk phone and dialed an internal number. “Is that Jane? Please send Jacob Miller’s personnel file to my office. Yes, I need it now.” There was a clear pause on the other end, then an affirmative. While waiting for the materials, I asked the second question. “I’d like to see your hospital’s resident and intern management policies. Especially the lunch break regulation – forty minutes. Who set that?” “That… was formulated based on the hospital’s actual situation.” “The Ministry of Health’s regulations on standardized residency training clearly state that residents’ work-rest schedules should ensure adequate rest. Do you think a forty-minute lunch break is reasonable?” “I’ll have the Medical Affairs Department look into it…” “Third question. Last week, a resident in the Dental Department was asked to write a reflection report for a medical dispute involving her attending physician. Are you aware of this?” Emily Patton paused, glancing at Clara, who was still standing in the doorway. “This… I’m not familiar with the specific situation.” “There’s quite a lot you’re not familiar with.” Two knocks on the door, and a woman in glasses entered, holding an archive envelope. “Chief Patton, here are the materials you requested.” She placed the envelope on the desk and left. I took it, opened it, and flipped through the documents inside. Copy of recruitment announcement – check. Written exam scores – check, ranked third. Interview records – check. Public Notice Document – check. It all looked very complete. I looked closely at the dates. Recruitment announcement issue date, March 15th. Application deadline, March 18th. Three days. “Chief Patton, for this public recruitment for a doctor position, from announcement to deadline, was it only three days?” “We were in a bit of a rush at the time.” “So rushed that you only gave three days? Standard public recruitment usually has at least a two-week announcement period, and you gave three days.” “The department urgently needed staff…” “How many applicants?” Emily Patton didn’t speak. I flipped to the back; the applicant statistics form stated: four applicants. One was hired out of four. “Four applicants, and your son was hired. Chief Patton, do you honestly think this procedure is compliant?” Jacob finally couldn’t sit still and stood up. “I got in on my own merits! Third in the written exam, first in the interview!” “Third in the written exam out of four people,” I said, flipping further. “Who were the interview panelists?” Interview panel list: Dr. Susan Chen, Head of Medical Affairs; Mr. David Wong, HR Manager; Deputy Chief of Staff, Dr. Robert Lee. “Your mother didn’t participate in the interview, but who holds the power to appoint the interview panelists?” Jacob fell silent. I closed the archive envelope. “I’ll keep this file for now.” “Deputy Director Stone—” Emily Patton took a step forward. “One more question.” I stood up. “Your son publicly slapped me in the cafeteria today. At least thirty to forty people witnessed it. Regardless of his reasons, striking someone in the workplace, how do you intend to handle this?” Emily Patton looked at Jacob. Jacob bit his lip. “Jacob, apologize to Deputy Director Stone.” “An apology is enough?” I said. “Then… what do you suggest?” “It’s not up to me to suggest. Your hospital has an employee management policy; handle it according to that policy. Also, there’s video evidence from bystanders and my body cam recording. If I decide to pursue legal action, your son is looking at assault charges.” Jacob’s face completely lost its color. “I… I didn’t know you were from the Health Commission… I thought you were…” “You thought I was an intern, so it was okay to hit me? Interns can be slapped around by you?” He couldn’t speak. Just then, there was a commotion at the office door. My colleagues had arrived. Sarah had come with Lily. Both carried briefcases, nodded to me upon entering, then each took out a notebook and a voice recorder. “Sarah, take Lily to the fire escape and the inpatient ward. Double-check all the issues I photographed this morning, and document them with photos. Lily, stay here with me to handle the administrative materials.” “Understood.” Sarah took Lily out. Emily Patton stood behind the desk, hands in her pockets, lips pressed together, silent. I turned to her. “Chief Patton, next, I need to review your hospital’s financial statements, equipment procurement lists, personnel hiring records, and patient complaint logs for the past year. Please arrange for someone to prepare them.” “Now?” “Now.”

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It’s been three years since I left this world. My ex-girlfriend, Cara, now an A-list actress, was in the middle of a paranormal investigation livestream. Her camera accidentally swept across my tombstone. Engraved on it was a QR code next to the words, “A Final Farewell.” When Cara saw it, her face twisted in disgust. She turned to the camera with a cold sneer. “Blake, you were the one who insisted on breaking up. What is this? Another pathetic stunt to get my attention?” she said. She then told her audience that she had moved on, that she was in love with her co-star, Owen. In the live chat, comments flooded in, calling me the obsessive, clingy ex who couldn’t let go. Then, one comment caught everyone’s eye: “Has anyone scanned the QR code? I think… I think he might actually be gone.” 1 Seeing that comment, Cara’s famously cool and collected expression hardened with even more annoyance. “He’ll do anything to get under my skin, won’t he?” The chat lit up with jokes: [The only person who can crack Cara’s ice-queen facade is her crazy ex.] [Seriously. He’s the one who dumped her. Now that she’s famous, he crawls out of the woodwork every chance he gets.] [Yeah, I heard he sent her letters and gifts just last week. No way he’s dead.] Amid the audience’s skepticism, a member of the production crew scanned the code, and a pre-recorded video began to play on the main feed. The first shot was of me, holding a medical report confirming a cancer diagnosis. I let out a forced, easygoing sigh. “Hey. Today is day one of my diagnosis. It’s also day one of our breakup. Happy breakup day, Cara!” “Forgive me for being so abrupt about it. The last thing I want is to drag you down with me.” I was wearing a crisp shirt, trying to look sharp and handsome, but it couldn’t hide the deathly pallor of my skin. “Let me guess, you’re heartbroken, right? Career in a slump and getting dumped at the same time… that’s gotta suck.” “But hey, you’ll bounce back. I know you will.” As the video played, my predictions were proven true. Someone in the chat had dug up Cara’s old social media posts. In the days following our breakup, she had posted a string of bleak, melancholic updates. The discovery that the industry’s resident ice queen had once been so vulnerable and deeply in love sent her trending for days. Back then, Cara had quickly hidden those old posts, leaving only one public statement: [I have someone better by my side now.] At the time, her historical drama had just become a massive hit. Her co-star was the industry’s rising heartthrob, Owen. He had even liked that post. Cara did seem to move on quickly, much to her fans’ relief. “But don’t worry,” my video-self continued. “I have no intention of bothering you. I just wanted to leave something behind.” “I’ve never asked you for anything, ever. But just this once… let me be selfish.” As I said those words, my voice caught, a choked sob breaking through. The confident, charming man from the start of the video dissolved, replaced by a fragile, lost little boy. Perhaps not wanting anyone to see me so exposed, I abruptly cut the video. [Date: April 9, 2019. Weather: Overcast. Hate lasts longer than love.] “Day two. It’s an overcast day. Perfect for feeling miserable, right?” I was in my pajamas, holding my phone up to show Cara’s sad posts while I brushed my teeth. “Looks like she’s really hurting. But I’m sure she’ll get over it soon!” My tone was light, a gentle smile fixed on my face. The live chat erupted in defense of Cara: [Cara was heartbroken over him for so long, and all he can say is she’ll ‘get over it’? You’d have more feelings for a dog you’d had for seven years. What a monster!] [Exactly. He doesn’t even look sick. This is all a publicity stunt. I hope he gets what’s coming to him.] [Dude, just die already and stop torturing our girl!] In the video, I fell silent after that comment. The camera panned down to my phone screen, showing a message I’d sent to Cara from an alt account: [Even when you’re sad, please remember to eat and rest. A fan who will always support you!] Her reply came almost instantly: [There was only ever one person who paid that much attention to me. Did you really think I wouldn’t recognize you just because you used a burner account?] [So, Blake. What are you trying to prove with this pathetic act? Are you here to laugh at me?] I stared at her words, frozen. A long moment passed before I slowly typed back: [Yeah. It’s exactly what you think.] No reply came. When I refreshed the page, I saw that she had blocked me. The chat cheered: [YES! Our queen knows her worth. She deserves so much better!] [This must be when she developed her killer instinct and cool-headedness. We should thank this asshole for that.] [I’m so curious about what the old Cara was like, though.] [Don’t be. That must have been the darkest time of her life.] The angry comments scrolling across the screen obscured the corner of the frame, where the boy clutched his phone, his eyes rimmed with red. [Date: May 2, 2019. Weather: Sunny. I want you to be happy more than anyone.] “Today… cough… I came to see you in secret.” The moment the boy in the video appeared, the stream of hateful comments came to a sudden halt. “Surprised to see me like this? To be honest, I’m not used to it either. It took a lot of courage to even turn the camera on.” The boy was wearing an awkward wig, and his cheeks were terrifyingly thin, but the same gentle smile was on his face. The camera showed the set of Cara’s breakout TV series, the one where she played the second female lead opposite Owen, who was also a supporting actor at the time. Amid a crowd of fans cheering for the main actress, I stood in a quiet corner, holding a small sign with Cara’s name on it, watching her act. She was more mature, her features sharper, her presence more commanding. The cheers for the lead actress grew louder. In the chaotic roar, on some strange impulse, I called out Cara’s name. The next second, as if she’d heard me through the noise, she looked up. Our eyes met. I ducked my head instantly, my heart hammering against my ribs. I didn’t even wait for the scene to end before I turned and fled. “Phew… I don’t think she saw me.” I was hiding in an alley, catching my breath, glad I’d gotten away. Suddenly, a firm hand clamped down on my wrist. “We broke up. Is it fun for you to stalk me now, Blake?” Cara was panting, her brow furrowed in anger. But as she took in my face, her expression faltered. “You… haven’t you been sleeping?” I quickly composed myself, turning my head away. “That’s right,” I said, my voice cold. “I have a new girlfriend. She keeps me up all night. A lot more exciting than you ever were.” Rage flared in Cara’s eyes. “Blake! You son of a—” She cut herself off. Owen’s voice came from behind her. “Cara? Why’d you run off mid-scene? The director is furious. Are you okay?” Cara let out a long, heavy breath and released my wrist. “You’re the one who said anyone who betrays a true heart deserves a thousand cuts.” “Forget it. Just don’t come back here again.” I kept my head down, silent. She turned to leave. Owen was still asking, “Who was that? A friend of yours?” Cara’s voice was clear and chillingly indifferent: “Just someone unimportant.” A bitter tide rose in my chest. When I looked up again, my vision was blurred with tears. “See? I told you. You were always going to be great.” “You were right. I’m the one who betrayed us. So let all the bad karma come to me. All I want… is for you to be happy…” [Date: June 3, 2019. Weather: Sunny. Not a hard decision.] A sophisticated man sat across from me at a café table. He took an elegant sip of his coffee. “You want to hire me as Cara’s agent? You know my rates aren’t cheap.” Someone in the chat recognized him. It was Marcus Vance, the legendary agent. With him in her corner, Cara’s career had skyrocketed. She had thanked him publicly more than once, but his only response was always a cryptic: “It was a business arrangement.” In the studio, watching the livestream, the real Marcus Vance looked up, his eyes slowly turning red. In the video, I nodded firmly and pushed a bank card across the table. “Marcus, there’s ninety-seven thousand, six hundred and thirty-six dollars in there. It’s every penny I have.” Marcus’s eyes flickered to the card, his voice unchanged. “I’m a businessman, you know that. This isn’t nearly enough for me to tie my career to some unknown actress.” I bit my lip. Then, I reached up and took off my wig, revealing my emaciated, sickly face underneath. It was the first time I had shown myself on camera without any disguise since I got sick. The live chat fell into a stunned silence. “Marcus, I’ll be honest with you. I have stomach cancer. I don’t have much time left.” “She’s the only thing I can’t let go of. I believe in her. I know she can make it big.” “I know this money isn’t enough to persuade you. But I’ll give you the rights to this entire video series I’m making. After I’m gone, whatever it earns can be my payment. What do you say?” I looked at him, my voice pleading. Marcus stared at me for a long time, then finally spoke. “And what about you? You’ve planned everything for her. Are you just going to fade away and die?” “If you used this money for treatment, you might live longer…” He trailed off. I just shook my head, a faint smile on my lips. “I can’t be a burden to her. We’ve already been through enough.” “It’s okay. I’m not afraid of dying. I’m just afraid of her crying if she sees me like this.” My face was calm, but the tremor in my voice betrayed me. A heavy silence filled the café. Marcus looked up, blinking hard, and took a deep breath. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll do it.”

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My brother, Ryan, vanished that night. I was ten and he was seven. We were in the woods behind the old mill when we stumbled upon an abandoned spaceship. Curiosity got the better of him, and Ryan scrambled inside. The hatch slammed shut behind him, and no matter how hard we pushed, it wouldn’t budge. Panic, cold and sharp, pierced right through me. I ran home, screaming and crying for Mom and Dad. Every adult from our little mill town turned out, combing every trail and thicket in those woods, turning the whole place upside down. They found nothing. Not a single clue. When they finally pried the hatch open, the inside was empty. A few of the men squeezed into the dark, narrow, dust-choked cylinder. They came out grimy and grim-faced, saying it was just an old industrial mixing tank. There was nothing inside. No other exits. No secret doors. No holes. Ryan had simply vanished into thin air. 1 That night, two officers from the local precinct came by and drilled me with questions. Every word they said made me feel like I’d done something wrong. “Why did your brother climb into that tank?” “You’re the older sister. Why didn’t you stop him?” “Are you sure you’re not just making this up?” I defended myself, my voice raw and hoarse, but all I got in return were heavy, meaningful stares. A seven-year-old boy, gone. No witnesses, no leads, no evidence. It wasn’t the first time something like this had happened, and it wouldn’t be the last. Every summer, some kid would wander too deep into the woods and get lost. Some were found. Some weren’t. They treated it like any other missing person case. No one yelled at me, but no one believed me, either. The search lasted two weeks. The police exhausted every possibility. In the end, my brother became just another name on a list of the missing. After Ryan was gone, the air in our house changed. It grew heavy, suffocating. Mom would lock herself in her room and just cry. Dad would finish his shift at the mill and go straight to the woods, sitting by that “spaceship” and drinking until late into the night. No one could accept that their son had evaporated inside an old, rusted-out tank. No sign of life, no body to bury. The whispers started in the hallways of our apartment building. Some said the spirits in the woods had taken him. Ryan had always been a frail kid, and they said those things preyed on the weak. Others pointed their fingers at me. “Tsk, tsk. Kids these days. The things they’ll do to get all their parents’ attention.” The gossip swirled around like dead leaves in the wind. But life had to go on. Mom and Dad made a silent pact to never speak his name again. Mom packed all his clothes, toys, and photos into a large wooden chest and locked it. Back then, the cartoon Starblazers was all the rage. Ryan had a complete set of stickers from the show plastered all over his headboard and pencil case. He used to say that one day, he’d become a Starblazer too, and fly off into space. Now, all his dreams, along with the name Ryan, were locked away at the bottom of that chest. My dad had us take a new family photo. Mom and Dad forced tight smiles for the camera, determined to start over. Not long after, Mom got pregnant again. Maybe it was to wash away the sorrow, or maybe it was the universe’s way of offering compensation. She nurtured the new life quietly, her face a mask of something between grief and hope. Dad threw himself into his work, his eyes fixed on the promise of a new beginning. Only I, weathering the storm of neighborhood gossip, kept searching for Ryan, praying he would come back. I refused to believe a seven-year-old boy could just disappear. I chose to believe he’d really done it—he’d launched his ship and was out there, somewhere in the vast, starry expanse. In my dreams, I could still see him, his small back turned to me as he climbed into the tank. “Cassie, I’m leaving now.” “I’m going on an adventure in space, just like a real Starblazer.” “Wait for me, okay? I’ll write to you.” And I believed him. I believed he would write. Ryan had never, not once, lied to me. And then, it happened. A letter arrived. It was a perfectly ordinary evening. I was walking home from school and, out of habit, glanced at the milk box by our front door. Tucked into the seam was an envelope. No stamp, no return address. Just three words scrawled in a shaky hand: Cassie. My name. I knew that handwriting. It was Ryan’s. I tore it open. Inside was a piece of paper ripped from a notebook, covered in messy script. Cassie, The ship took off. I’m in space, and all I can see are stars out the window. There are so many buttons in here. I pushed a red one and the ship went super fast. I almost fell over. I’m going on an adventure, just like in Starblazers. I’m doing good here. There’s food and water, and I have a little dog with me. His name is Astro. He can talk and he tells jokes, but they’re not very funny. Cassie, do you miss me? I’m okay, so don’t worry. And don’t tell Mom and Dad. This is our secret. They’ll ruin it if they know. If you miss me, go to our secret base. My telescope is still there. Keep it safe for me. I’ll write again soon. Ryan After reading the letter, I felt a small, hard disk in the envelope. I tipped it out into my palm. It was a little white button shaped like a rabbit. My whole body started to shake. It was the button from the collar of the shirt Ryan was wearing the night he disappeared. Ryan was alive. He had written to me. A thought seized me, and I took off, running like mad toward the woods. The rusted old mixing tank was still there, lying in the clearing, silent and inert. His words from that night echoed in my ears: “Cassie, I’m going on a trip to space.” Clearly, the “spaceship” in the letter wasn’t this hunk of metal. Could it be? Was there some kind of mysterious power inside the tank that had sent him to the stars? I didn’t know. But I was sure of one thing. This letter was real. Ryan was still out there. And he had kept his promise. He wrote! Ryan didn’t want me to tell anyone. Mom and Dad were wrapped up in the new baby, the last thing they wanted was to be reminded of their lost son. If I told any other adults, they’d think I was crazy. A boy who vanished from a sealed tank suddenly sending letters from space? They’d assume I’d faked it for attention, just to stir up a settled tragedy. At ten years old, I’d already learned to read the expressions on grown-ups’ faces. The search parties were long gone. It was up to me. I carefully folded the letter and tucked it inside my dictionary. Before Dad had dinner on the table, I slipped out to our secret base. The “secret base” was just the old recycling depot behind our apartment building. Before Ryan disappeared, we used to scavenge for treasures there: marbles, old toys, weirdly shaped plastic cards. I dug to the very bottom of our stash and pulled out Ryan’s most prized possession: his toy telescope. His “interstellar observation scope,” he called it. I pulled open the drawer of the old desk we used as our command center and found it right where he’d left it. I figured, if Ryan could get a letter from outer space into our milk box, then he could definitely get one back. So that night, I hunched over my desk and wrote a reply. Ryan, I got your letter. Are you feeling better? Space must be so beautiful. I’ll keep our secret. Be careful out there by yourself. They’re coming out with new Starblazers stickers soon. You need to come home soon for your shots and your medicine. Come home soon. Cassie I was never good with words. I wrote and erased and rewrote, but that was the best I could do. The next morning, I tucked my reply and the telescope into the milk box before heading to school. I was a wreck all day, couldn’t focus on a single thing the teacher said. My mind was consumed by the letter. The second the final bell rang, I sprinted home. The milk box was empty. My letter and the telescope were gone. After that, I checked the milk box every single day, waiting for Ryan’s next letter. It didn’t come for a month. When it finally did, it was the same kind of envelope, the same handwriting, the same lack of a stamp. Cassie, The ship flew past Mars today. It’s red, like Mom’s chili sauce. Astro says there are volcanoes on Mars taller than Mount Everest. Cassie, how tall is Mount Everest? How are Mom and Dad? Are you eating okay? I miss Mom’s pot roast. Eat some extra for me, okay? Ryan I sat at my desk and read the letter three times over. Eat some extra of Mom’s pot roast for me. We did have pot roast last night. How did he know? Could he see our dinner table through the telescope? That must mean he was somewhere close. A spark of hope ignited in me. I quickly wrote a reply and went to hide by the milk box, determined to see who was picking up the mail. But my dad, taking out the trash, found me. He yelled at me for loitering and was about to drag me off to school. I couldn’t take it anymore. I decided to tell him everything. The moment the name “Ryan” left my lips, he slapped me across the face. His eyes were blazing. “We don’t have a Ryan anymore! You say that name again and I’ll beat you!” he roared. “And if you ever think about skipping school, I’ll beat you for that too!” I’d always been terrified of my dad, so I did as I was told and went to school. When I got back, my letter was gone. A small part of me felt a flicker of relief. Waiting for Ryan’s letters became the one thing I looked forward to each day. They didn’t come on a regular schedule. Sometimes it was a few days, sometimes a few months. They always seemed to arrive when I was at school or taking a test. But they never stopped. The letters were mostly the same. He was on his ship, he flew past a planet, he saw something cool, Astro told another bad joke. Sometimes I was tempted to tell Mom about the letters. I watched her belly grow bigger every day. She started knitting clothes for the new baby. Her spirit seemed to have left her; even with a new life inside her, she looked hollowed out. One day, I couldn’t hold it in. “Mom,” I started. “Do you think… do you think Ryan might still be alive?” Her hands stilled. The silence in the room stretched on for a long time. Then she let out a long, weary sigh. “Cassie, I know you miss him. I do too.” She put her knitting away and walked to the window, her back to me. “But some things… you just have to let them go. We have to look forward now.” Her shoulders trembled slightly. I knew she was crying. I didn’t say another word. In that moment, I understood. They had all given up on Ryan. Back in my room, I pulled the letters from my dictionary and read them again under the starlight pouring through my window. I knew every word by heart. After I finished, I just stared out at the night sky. The moon, the stars, the scattered lights of the town. And then I saw it. My eyes locked onto the small park below our building. A little boy was standing in the middle of the empty playground, holding a telescope. And he was looking right at my window.

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The silent war for the inheritance had begun. My parents had handed me and the “impostor son” each a startup, setting a three-year deadline. Whoever turned the biggest profit would take over the family empire. I drove myself into the ground to prove my worth. It wasn’t just about the fortune; I was desperate for a single, approving glance from my parents. I slammed back glass after glass of hard liquor at business dinners until a bleeding ulcer landed me in the ER. Countless nights bled into dawn as I hunched over proposals, my office becoming my only home. The pride I once had? I swallowed it, learning to suck up, to read the room, to play the game and kiss the right asses. Just as my company’s profits were skyrocketing and victory was within my grasp, the woman who swore she loved me casually handed a game-changing contract to the impostor. He won without lifting a finger. If they were all going to play this dirty, then so was I. The gloves were coming off. 1 They threw a victory party for him on my birthday. Because I didn’t show, my parents took turns calling to tear me apart. “Asher beat you, and now you can’t even show your face at his party? What will people think of us? If you were such a sore loser, you should never have agreed to the bet in the first place. You’re a disgrace.” “You have thirty minutes. If you’re not here, don’t ever bother coming back. We’ll consider ourselves son-less.” To legitimize Asher Blackwood’s claim to the family fortune, my parents had invited every big name in town to witness his coronation. The three-year wager between the real and fake Blackwood heirs was common knowledge in our circle. Some had even placed private bets on who would come out on top. For three years, they’d watched me grind, they’d seen my results. They bet on me to win. So when the news of my loss broke, they were stunned. Just a week before, my company’s profits had dwarfed Asher’s. Who could have guessed that my own girlfriend would hand him the win on a silver platter? When I first took over the startup, I knew nothing. My girlfriend, Genevieve, was already running her family’s corporation. I’d asked her for a little guidance. “You need to do this on your own, Noah,” she’d said. “Stop looking for shortcuts.” With that one sentence, she’d shut down any hope of help from her. And yet, the same person who told me not to take shortcuts had just opened the floodgates for someone else at the most critical moment. I could handle losing. But I couldn’t stomach the betrayal. Faced with my parents’ fury, I answered calmly, “It’s my birthday. Some friends and I are out on the boat. I can’t make it back.” Silence on the other end of the line. Clearly, they’d forgotten. Then, Asher’s voice, thick with feigned tears, drifted through the phone. “Does Noah still not want to come? Does he hate me for winning the bet? If I’d known, I would have just lost. I don’t want our family to fight.” Whatever guilt my parents might have felt vanished in an instant. My mother’s voice turned sharp with irritation. “You knew today was the day Asher inherited the company, and you chose to go screwing around with your good-for-nothing friends. You’re doing this on purpose. Fine. Stay out for all we care.” She hung up. The old me would have dropped everything, rushed to their side, and desperately tried to explain. But now? I felt nothing. The only thing on my mind was catching more squid. My best friend loved fresh-caught calamari, and I intended to deliver. The day was a success. My friend and I feasted on our catch, even saw a pod of dolphins break the surface. We didn’t head home until nine, spirits high. But a few unwelcome guests were waiting for me at my door. My father was the first to charge, his hand raised to strike me. My friend, Rick, was quicker. He yanked me back. I dodged the slap but lost my footing, tumbling to the ground. Rick winced, offering a hand to pull me up. My father, trembling with rage, roared, “If you had a problem, you could have come to me! Why did you have to call your grandmother and tattle on us? She’s been ill, recovering overseas for years. We never trouble her with anything! But today, she called, screamed at all of us, and now she wants to kick Asher out of the family. What did you say to her to make her that furious?” Asher collapsed to his knees before me, sobbing. “I don’t want the inheritance anymore! You can have it. Just say I lost the bet. Please, just don’t make them send me away. I only want to be with Mom and Dad. They’re all I have left…” I took a step back, my face a cold mask. “Don’t try that crap with me. I didn’t do anything.” My father couldn’t stand the sight of Asher kneeling. He rushed to help him up, his fury at me deepening. “You do it and then deny it? Don’t think your grandmother’s support means you can break our deal. We agreed, whoever wins, inherits. You lost because you weren’t good enough. What right do you have to steal this from Asher?” In that moment, I finally understood what it felt like to be truly unloved. I said nothing. Instead, I pulled out my phone and played a recording. The voices were clear. “I never knew Miss Devereaux had such feelings for Asher. It’s a good thing she stepped in. Otherwise, I would have had to arrange something behind the scenes. That boy, Asher, is too simple-minded. Three years, and he still couldn’t get that company off the ground. Not like him. He’s got a calculating mind. If he took over, I doubt our retirement would be very peaceful.” It was my father’s voice. My mother paused, then said, “I didn’t tell you, dear. When Miss Devereaux visited last time, I let it slip that if Asher didn’t win, we’d have to marry him off to secure his future. I was just giving her a little push. I didn’t expect her to act so decisively. It seems her feelings for Asher are quite serious.” “Well, Miss Devereaux is a brilliant woman. Asher would do well with her. I just worry that Noah will throw a fit.” “Let him. As long as it doesn’t affect Asher’s happiness, he can do whatever he wants.” The recording ended. The silence that followed was heavy and suffocating. I looked at them, my mind flashing back a month ago. My company’s profits were soaring, victory a sure thing. Then an employee burst in, telling me Asher’s company had just landed a massive partnership. The partner was Genevieve Devereaux. Blood roared in my ears. I called her immediately. She didn’t answer. Our bet had a clause: neither Asher nor I could receive any help or resources from the Blackwood family. But Asher, knowing Genevieve’s influence, had insisted on an addendum: Genevieve was also forbidden from helping me. My parents, in the name of “fairness,” had agreed without even asking me. The game had been rigged from the start. Asher had grown up in the Blackwood mansion, receiving the best education, groomed to manage a corporation. I had learned nothing. But to prove myself, I gritted my teeth and accepted. I had poured ten times the effort into it, only to lose to a backroom deal. The injustice was a bitter pill. I had driven to the family home that day, demanding an explanation. I found them in the garden, discussing this very thing. I stopped and listened, and the more I heard, the colder I grew. They never intended for me to be the heir. Even without Genevieve, they would have found another way to ensure Asher won. I didn’t storm in and confront them. I just recorded their conversation. Driving away from the house, tears streamed down my face, my heart constricting until I could barely breathe. Later, Genevieve called. She claimed the partnership was a decision made by her marketing department after extensive research. It wasn’t a personal favor, she said. I shouldn’t overthink it. I didn’t cry or scream. I just said, “Okay, I understand,” and hung up. Some truths don’t need to be spoken aloud. “When… when did you record that? You were spying on us? You’re a monster.” My father’s eyes darted away, but he didn’t miss the chance to shift the blame. My mother joined in, her voice dripping with condemnation. “So you sent this to your grandmother? No wonder your father said you were cunning. You’re terrifying, stabbing us in the back like this. How could we ever trust you with the family business?” Seeing no remorse, not an ounce of regret, I forwarded the recording to my grandmother’s assistant. “I don’t have her number,” I said flatly. “You made sure of that from the beginning, telling me she was too ill to be bothered with matters here. A family friend gave me this contact, said it was a way to reach her. This is the first time I’ve ever sent a message.” Since returning to the Blackwood family, I had only seen my grandmother once, on a video call. I had no idea how she even found out about this ridiculous bet. My father’s tone suddenly softened. “Well, if you didn’t tell her, there’s no need to. This is a family matter, we’ll handle it ourselves. Your grandmother put a stop to the party tonight, so we’ll just… we’ll reconsider who is the most suitable heir.” Hearing his phony, placating words, I felt a wave of revulsion so strong it made me sick. My eyes, cold as ice, locked onto his. “You are… disgusting.” He looked utterly shocked. “What did you just say?”

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I was in the school cafeteria, sipping the free broth they offered and picking at a cheap plain oatmeal bowl, when the administrators showed up for a surprise inspection. The principal noticed my bare, modest tray and asked gently why I hadn’t gotten any real food. I had no choice but to be honest: I was short on cash. That night, my mom called, her tone sharp and accusatory. She demanded to know how I could be so ungrateful. The family gave me a generous monthly allowance of a hundred thousand dollars—so why was I going around telling people I was broke? I knew all about that allowance, of course. But the money was held in a managed trust. Under the legal terms, I couldn’t withdraw a single dollar until I turned eighteen. And I was only a freshman in high school. 1 My mother’s yelling continued. “You deliberately told everyone you had no money for food, right in front of all those people. You’re trying to make your father and me look bad, aren’t you?” “Hannah, I’ve always thought you were manipulative. Ever since you were a little girl, you’ve known how to play the victim to get sympathy.” She paused, then her voice turned sharp with sarcasm. “I’ve given you a life of luxury, never let you suffer. And you’re still not satisfied. What a thankless child.” “Just like your grandmother. You’re both here just to make my life miserable.” A wave of exhaustion washed over me. For years, any little thing I did to displease her, she would somehow link back to my grandmother. My grandmother was a traditional woman, with a strong preference for boys. When I was born, the moment she heard I was a girl, she turned around and left. They say the grudges formed during the postpartum month are never forgotten. My mother had hated my grandmother ever since. I tried to explain, but she had already hung up. A moment later, a screenshot of a bank transfer popped up on my phone. [There. Another hundred thousand. That’s enough for you to eat and drink whatever you want.] [You’re still growing. Don’t eat that unhealthy, cheap junk just to save money. You need a balanced diet…] It was a performance of care and concern, as if the argument moments before had never happened. I stared up at the clear blue sky, a chill running through me. After a long silence, I finally gathered the courage to type a reply. [Could you transfer the money directly to me instead of the trust company? I don’t need that much. Two thousand a month would be enough.] The “typing” indicator flickered on and off for a long time, but no message came through. Just as I thought she wouldn’t reply, my phone rang. My mother’s furious voice exploded in my ear. “Hannah, what are you trying to pull? Are you just looking for trouble?” “Have you been hanging out with the wrong crowd at school? A hundred thousand a month isn’t enough for you?” I took a deep breath, my heart pounding. I forced myself to explain. “But Mom, I can’t access that money until I’m eighteen. I’m only sixteen. What am I supposed to do for the next two years?” “I’m starving. I can’t even afford a fifty-cent bowl of congee anymore.” “Mom, please, just give me some living expenses. I don’t need much. A thousand a month… no, five hundred would be fine. I just don’t want to be hungry anymore…” I was so hungry. At my age, I was going through a growth spurt, and with all the physical activity at school, I was hungry all the time. Even with the free soup at every meal, I was still starving. At my worst, I had resorted to drinking water from the tap to fill my stomach. But my mother was unmoved. Her voice grew even sharper. “I fought for you, went against the family to set up that trust for you because I felt sorry that you weren’t valued. There’s over five million in there by now. What more could you possibly want?” “Always demanding more, just like your grandmother. You’re both here to collect a debt. What did I do to deserve this?” I tightened my grip on the phone. In that moment, I finally understood. My mother was taking out all her resentment for my grandmother on me. She was deliberately withholding money from me, all while maintaining the facade of a “good mother.” The call ended. I went to the sink on the balcony and gulped down more water. A roommate walked in and saw me, startled. “Hannah, you’re drinking tap water again.” I nodded. She frowned, studying me for a long moment before hesitating. “But… your cousin, Iris, says your family is really rich. How can you not have money for food?” My heart stuttered. Iris was my cousin. She had lived with us since she was a child. My mother adored her. All the maternal love I had never experienced was showered on Iris. Iris had the biggest, prettiest bedroom in the house, with its own piano room. Her closet was overflowing with beautiful dresses she never had a chance to wear. And when it came to spending money, there were no limits. My mother had given her a supplementary credit card with no spending cap. I looked up, meeting my roommate’s eyes. “Not all mothers love their children.” She was stunned into silence. Just then, Iris bounced into the room, holding a small cake. It was strawberry. And I was allergic to strawberries. Iris smiled at me, a look of condescending charity in her eyes, and held the cake out. “Here, for you.” I didn’t move. We had known each other for years. She knew about my allergy. Iris’s face fell. “Come on, eat it. I waited in line for two hours to get this.” “You know I’m allergic,” I said flatly. “What allergy? I think you’re just trying to make things difficult for me.” The smile vanished from her face. The next second, she slammed the cake into my chest, her eyes red with anger. “What is your problem? Just because I’m the poor relative living in your house, you look down on me? You won’t even accept a cake I bought especially for you?” Ten minutes later, Iris and I were in the dean’s office. Iris’s hair was a mess, a clear handprint on her cheek. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying. I stood there, my face a mask, but a closer look would reveal scratch marks on my arms and hands, and my clothes were smeared with cream. We both looked like we’d been through a war. Iris sobbed, pointing at her face. “Sir, I just wanted to give her a cake, and she hit me.” The dean frowned, not immediately taking her side. He turned to me. “Hannah, tell me what happened.” I recounted the events of the last ten minutes. Iris had not only thrown the cake at me, but had also lunged at me with her long nails. I hadn’t just stood there and taken it; in the scuffle, I had slapped her. That was when she had finally backed off and started crying. And that brought us here. Iris kept crying, occasionally interjecting, “Sir, I was just so angry! Why couldn’t she just accept my kindness?” She was so self-righteous. The dean looked at her with displeasure, about to speak, when the office door was thrown open. It was my mother. She strode in and, without a word, swung her arm and slapped me across the face. The office fell silent. The dean was the first to react, pulling me behind him and confronting my mother. “Ma’am, you can’t just hit a student!” My mother pointed at me, her eyes blazing. “She’s a menace! Bullying her own cousin. Better I beat some sense into her now before she goes out into the world and does something truly terrible.” From behind my mother, Iris stuck her tongue out at me. I remained frozen, my head still turned from the force of the slap. The dean’s expression had darkened. “Mrs. Zhou, you need to be more patient with your daughter. You should have asked her what happened instead of just resorting to violence.” My mother didn’t seem to hear him, her eyes still locked on me with disappointment. The dean continued, “I’ve heard both sides. It seems Iris threw the cake at Hannah first and then tried to scratch her. Hannah was just defending herself.” My mother looked surprised, but only for a moment. Then, as if she’d heard the funniest joke in the world, her voice became even more shrill. “I gave birth to her. I know her best. She’s been a manipulative little thing since she was a child. And Iris has always been so well-behaved. Why would she attack someone for no reason?” “Hannah must have done something to provoke her.” At that, Iris buried her face in my mother’s side and started crying even harder. “It was sister… she’s always calling me a poor relative, a freeloader… I just couldn’t take it anymore.” That was all the fuel my mother needed. She struggled against the dean’s restraining arm, trying to get to me again. “You ungrateful brat! I’ll kill you!” Just as another slap was about to land, I snapped my head up and met my mother’s eyes. “With a mother like you… I’d rather be an orphan.” You could have heard a pin drop in the office. My mother’s hand froze in mid-air. She stared at me in disbelief, clearly shocked that the daughter who had always tried so hard to please her would dare to say such a thing. “Are you… insane?” After a moment of shock, her anger erupted. She slammed her hand on the desk. “Fine! You really are your grandmother’s granddaughter, rotten to the core!” Even Iris seemed taken aback by the venom in her words. Seeing the color drain from my face, my mother’s voice rose to a shriek. “Hannah, what could you possibly be dissatisfied with? I give you a hundred thousand a month! Most families don’t even save that much in a year.” “And Iris, she never complains about money. She even buys me little gifts. Such a considerate child. Is it so wrong for me to dote on her a little more?” I couldn’t take it anymore. Years of pent-up resentment came pouring out. “Because she’s not the one who’s broke! I’m the one who can’t even afford to eat! Yes, you give me a hundred thousand a month, but it’s all locked up in a trust! I can’t touch it until I’m eighteen.” “I’m only sixteen! You won’t give me any living expenses, and I can’t get the money from the trust. What am I supposed to do?!” My mother just looked at my breakdown with cold disdain. “You’re so ungrateful. You have no appreciation for what your elders do for you.” The dean could only sigh. As we were leaving, he called me back. “Hannah, if you’re having financial difficulties, please don’t hesitate to come to me.” He handed me a financial aid application form. Tears welled in my eyes. I bowed deeply. “Thank you, sir.” I had tried to apply for aid before, but the school had rejected my application after looking into my family’s financial situation. My classmates often teased me, calling me a “rich miser.” It was a Friday. I usually worked on weekends and didn’t have time to go home. But with my mother here, I had no choice but to go with her. When we got home, she shot me a sideways glance and started complaining to my father, who had just arrived. “Richard, I can’t handle your daughter anymore.” My father rubbed his temples, annoyed. “What is it now?” Iris pouted, her eyes welling up with tears. “I bought sister a cake, and she got mad…” she mumbled, her words vague and misleading. My father sighed and tried to reason with me. “Hannah, just try to get along, will you?” My shoulders slumped. My voice trembled. “Give me my living expenses.” At that, my mother, who had been heading upstairs, stormed back down and pointed a finger at my nose. “Hannah, your father and I have given you everything, and not only are you ungrateful, you resent us for it!” “I’ve already transferred the money to you. It’s not my fault if you’re not capable enough to access it.” She then pointed at my father. “Look at your father! He works so hard to provide for this family that his health is failing. And look at me! I’ve gotten so many wrinkles because of you. Do you even see any of that?” I looked at my father. His lips were tinged with blue, and he looked exhausted. I felt a pang of guilt. But that guilt quickly vanished when I heard him sigh and, as he had done so many times before, try to smooth things over. “Alright, Hannah, your mother is just looking out for you. She’s afraid you’ll waste the money if you get it all at once.” I fought back tears and screamed, “Are you both insane? I can’t touch that money until I’m eighteen! What am I supposed to do until then? Do you want me to starve to death?” “To survive, I’ve had to work in illegal factories every break, working until one in the morning for less than a thousand a month! And all the while, Iris is living like a princess in this house! Who is your real daughter?!” My mother stared at me, her chest heaving. She was furious, her parental authority challenged. But she couldn’t refute what I said. It was all true. My father clenched his fists, hesitating as he looked at my mother. She exploded. “Richard, if you dare give her a single cent behind my back, we’re getting a divorce!” That night, like so many nights before, ended in a bitter fight. I spent the weekend working. On Monday, I went to the school’s financial aid office to apply for a student grant. With the dean’s help, the process went smoothly. The grant wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep me from starving. Just as I was breathing a sigh of relief, I got a call from my homeroom teacher. “Hannah, the school has given your grant to another student.” “Why?” “Your mother came to the school and went straight to the principal. She told him she gives you a hundred thousand a month and that you’ve always been a spoiled, greedy child. The dean and I tried to reason with her, but it was no use…” My homeroom teacher’s regretful, helpless voice continued on the other end, but I couldn’t hear it anymore. My head was buzzing. A few of my classmates had overheard. They started pointing and whispering. When I got back to my dorm, my roommates looked at me strangely. The one I had been closest to deliberately bumped into me with her shoulder. “Wow, Hannah, you’re really something else. Your mom just pulled up in a Rolls-Royce, decked out in designer everything… and here you are, a rich kid, playing poor for sympathy. It’s disgusting.” “You know who got the grant instead? Iris. Bet that just kills you.” My blood ran cold. I couldn’t take it anymore. I bolted from the dorm, out of the school gates. The family car was parked on the side of the road. The windows were down, and I could see my parents sitting inside. I walked up to them, my voice hoarse. “Why?” My mother didn’t even look at me, busy admiring her manicure. My father had that same helpless look on his face. “Hannah, your cousin has never had her real parents to look after her. She’s a guest in our home. She’s had a hard life…” Iris’s mother was a single mom who had died in a car accident when she was four. No one knew who her father was. “Iris has had it tough, so you have to be the bigger person.” I had heard that line my entire life. I stood there, a bitter smile on my face. “Yes, she doesn’t have parents. But she has you two, her fake parents, who love her more than anything. I have parents, but what’s the difference between me and an orphan?” My parents stared at me, stunned. My voice was eerily calm when I spoke again. “From now on, just pretend you don’t have a daughter. You don’t deserve to be parents.”

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On my daughter’s sixth birthday, just as I was about to cut the cake, an emergency call from my department head shattered the moment. I had to get back to the ER, immediately. He said the patient was the son of a Manhattan heiress, in shock from an acute asthma attack. He insisted I handle it personally, that there could be no mistakes. I pulled on my gloves, a bitter laugh caught in my throat. The Manhattan heiress… wasn’t that my wife of eight years, Seraphina Croft? But we only had one child, an eight-year-old daughter. Where did a three-year-old son come from? After three hours of intensive work, the boy’s breathing finally stabilized. Before I could even remove my mask, the doors to the trauma bay were violently kicked open. Several bodyguards stormed in and sent me sprawling to the floor with a single, brutal kick. A woman’s voice, as cold as ice, cut through the air from above. “Why are there defibrillator burns on my son? Which hand did it? I want it broken.” Clutching my dislocated arm, I looked up. Through the glass doors of the adjoining room, I met the venomous glare of Seraphina. And the man whose arm she was holding… was her ex-boyfriend, the one she had supposedly forced out of the country years ago. 1 Crack. The sharp sound of bone breaking echoed in the silent hallway, unnervingly loud. A tidal wave of pain crashed over me, threatening to pull my consciousness under. I collapsed onto the cold tile, my right arm twisted at a grotesque angle, hanging limp and useless at my side. That was my right hand. My scalpel hand. And now, it was ruined. Behind the glass door, Seraphina was gently holding onto Nathaniel. The raw anguish and concern on her face was an expression I hadn’t seen in our eight years of marriage. Nathaniel’s eyes were red, his voice thick with self-blame. “Sera, Liam is so little… How could that doctor burn him with the defibrillator? If I had known, I would have stayed in there with him myself.” Seraphina stroked his back, her voice a soft, soothing balm. “Don’t be afraid. I’m here. I’ve already had that doctor’s hand taken care of. Consider it an apology to Liam.” I lay curled in the shadows, my mind replaying a desperate night eight years ago. Seraphina, her eyes bloodshot, had knelt before me, clutching my legs, begging for forgiveness. “Lucian, I swear! I will never have anything to do with him again!” “I’ll force him out of the country immediately! He will never appear before you again as long as I live!” “If I ever see him again, may God strike me down where I stand!” She had even blocked and deleted all of Nathaniel’s contact information right in front of me and signed a prenuptial agreement stating she would leave with nothing if she was ever unfaithful. And I had believed her. I thought she had truly severed all ties to her past for me. Reality was a slap in the face. “Forced out of the country” was nothing but a performance for my benefit. And that little boy, Liam, had Seraphina’s eyes, her mouth. All this time, she had been playing the part of a devoted wife to me while secretly building a “perfect family” with her ex. The bodyguards’ fists and feet rained down on me for what felt like an hour. They were professionals, avoiding my face and focusing on areas that wouldn’t show, especially my right hand, which they stomped on and ground into the floor repeatedly. By the time I dragged my bloodied body to its feet, leaning against the wall for support, the hallway was empty. Seraphina and Nathaniel had left with their precious son. Clearly, the surgical mask I wore had been the perfect disguise. She had no idea the doctor whose hand she’d just ordered destroyed was her legal husband of eight years. My department head burst in, his face purple with rage, jabbing a finger at me. “Lucian! Do you have any idea whose son that was?” “That was the Croft family scion! The heir!” “I specifically told you to be careful, and what do you do? You burn him with the defibrillator!” “How could you be so careless? Do you even want this job anymore?” “You’re suspended! Go home and think about what you’ve done!” His spittle hit my face. How could I not know who it was? I had been with her for eight years. I knew what a frown on her face meant. No one knew Seraphina Croft better than I did. “Sir, the boy was in shock from an asthma attack. Defibrillation is standard procedure. The redness is minor and will fade in two days…” I tried to argue, to explain that Seraphina was overreacting. But the words died in my throat. What was the point? To the Manhattan heiress, my career was nothing more than a sacrificial offering to appease her ex-boyfriend. Besides, I had my daughter to think about. The image of Rosie waiting at home for me to come cut her birthday cake flashed in my mind. I swallowed the metallic taste of blood in my throat, gritting my teeth against the searing pain in my arm. My legs felt like they were filled with lead as I dragged myself out of the hospital. It was three in the morning when I got home. When I pushed open the door, the warm glow of the living room floor lamp was still on. Six-year-old Rosie was curled up on the sofa, the uneaten birthday cake clutched in her arms. Her eyes lit up when she saw me. “Daddy! You’re finally home!” She leaped off the sofa and ran towards me. “Hiss—” She bumped into my right arm. The pain was so intense my vision went black, and I nearly collapsed. “Daddy, what’s wrong? Why is your hand bleeding? Did someone hurt you?” Rosie’s eyes filled with tears, her voice trembling. Her small hands hovered, afraid to touch me. I used my uninjured left hand to gently pat her back, forcing down the lump in my throat. “Daddy’s okay. I just slipped and fell on my way home.” “It’s okay, Rosie, it doesn’t hurt. It’s late, you should go to sleep.” I forced a smile that felt more like a grimace and managed to coax her into bed. After closing her bedroom door, I collapsed onto the edge of our bed in the master bedroom. My mind was a chaotic whirlwind of all the years of Seraphina’s coldness. She was always “too busy with work,” sometimes not coming home for months. She “didn’t like how noisy children were,” so she rarely held Rosie. But today, the way she held that other boy was so practiced, the look she gave Nathaniel so tender. I had been a fool, guarding this cold, empty house, clinging to a promise that was a lie from the start. I was the biggest joke of all. Despair consumed me like a black hole. I didn’t close my eyes until the sky began to lighten with the dawn. I hadn’t been asleep long when I heard the front door open. It was Seraphina. She stopped short when she saw me lying on the bed, my face pale, my right arm in a makeshift splint. Then she rushed over, her face a mask of concern. “Lucian? What happened? How did you get hurt so badly?” She reached out to touch my face, and I flinched away. Her hand froze in mid-air, and her brow furrowed. Her tone shifted instantly to one of anger. “Who did this? Tell me who hurt you.” Watching her righteous fury, I felt a surge of bitter irony. The perpetrator was standing right in front of me, vowing to get revenge on my behalf. “Lucian, talk to me! Who was it?” she demanded, her voice rising as if she was ready to go to war for me. I lowered my gaze to hide the mockery in my eyes, my voice as cold as ice. “No one. I fell down the stairs last night. Hit the railing. It’s broken.” Seraphina let out a breath of relief, which was quickly followed by a mix of scolding and concern. “How could you be so careless? You’re a surgeon; don’t you know how to protect yourself? Does it hurt? Come on, I’m taking you to the hospital right now. We’ll get the best specialist to look at it.” The hospital? Which one? The one you just had me suspended from? “No need. It’s been taken care of.” I pushed her hand away and struggled to sit up, a wave of nausea washing over me. “Where’s Rosie?” Seraphina paused for a second before answering gently. “I came home early this morning and saw you were asleep, so I didn’t wake you. I already dropped her off at school.” She paused again, her eyes fixed on my injuries. “Where were you last night? What happened? There’s no way you got these injuries from a fall. Don’t lie to me.” She didn’t believe me. I pulled at the corner of my mouth, my gaze locking with hers. “Yesterday was Rosie’s sixth birthday.” “Seraphina, where were you last night?” Her expression faltered for a fraction of a second. Her eyes darted away in a panic. “I…” She stammered, struggling to find her voice. “There was an emergency project at work. I was swamped. I couldn’t get away.” “I feel terrible about it. That’s why I rushed back as soon as I could. I’ll pick Rosie up from school later, and we’ll have a proper birthday celebration for her, okay?” She moved to embrace me, her touch as delicate as if I were a piece of fine art. Just then, her phone vibrated violently in her pocket. The screen lit up with the caller ID: “Important Client.” Seraphina’s expression changed. She glanced at me, then quickly silenced the phone. “It’s work, they’re pushing for an answer. I have to take this.” She walked out to the balcony. Though she lowered her voice, the gentle tone still drifted back to me. “Hello? Is Liam awake? Okay, I’ll be right there.” She hung up and turned back, her face once again a mask of deep affection and guilt. “Lucian, something urgent came up at the office. I have to go. You rest up. I promise I’ll make it up to you when I’m done with this.” Watching her lie so effortlessly, I couldn’t help but let out a small, humorless laugh. In eight years of marriage, Seraphina had never lied to me about anything else. But the moment Nathaniel was involved, she transformed into an Oscar-winning actress. I didn’t scream or demand answers. I simply leaned back against the sofa, my voice flat. “Go on. Business is business.” Hearing my easy compliance, her tense shoulders visibly relaxed. “Lucian,” she said, relief washing over her face, “I knew you’d understand. Thank you for being so patient with me.” Her eyes filled with emotion as she leaned in to kiss me. As she got closer, the scent of a woody, aggressive cologne filled my senses. It was Nathaniel’s favorite. The entire hospital corridor had reeked of it last night. A violent wave of nausea churned in my stomach. I shoved her away. Seraphina stared at me, a flicker of confusion and anger in her eyes. I lowered my gaze to hide my disgust. “Isn’t your ‘client’ waiting?” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “You shouldn’t keep them waiting.” At the word “client,” her expression became strained. She wrung her hands, her eyes darting around nervously. The guilt on her face was perfectly calibrated. “I’ll go then. You get some rest. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” She grabbed her keys and rushed out the door as if afraid I’d change my mind. The door slammed shut, and the apartment was plunged back into silence. I slumped onto the floor, the pain in my right arm radiating through my entire body. I bit down hard, using my good hand to pull a pen and paper from the coffee table drawer. I opened my laptop and created a new document. Divorce Agreement. I typed the words with a clean, final click. I didn’t want a single cent of her money. What I had earned on my own was more than enough to support my daughter and me. All I wanted was full custody of Rosie. I hit the final enter key, printed two copies, and signed my name without a moment’s hesitation. Then I opened a travel app and booked two one-way tickets to Florida for that afternoon. I couldn’t stand another second in this suffocating city. I was taking my daughter, and we were going to disappear from Seraphina Croft’s life forever. This time, we were the ones leaving her. Around noon, I gritted my teeth against the pain and pulled a suitcase from the back of the closet. I started throwing in some clothes and our important documents. I had just managed to stuff a few things inside when I heard the lock on the front door turn again. Seraphina, the workaholic who had once let me go to the hospital alone with a 104-degree fever because she was in a meeting, was back, carrying bags of groceries. On a weekday. In the middle of the day. She saw my stunned expression and explained softly as she took off her shoes. “Your hand is so badly injured, you can’t do much. I couldn’t bear the thought of you being here alone, so I took some time off to take care of you.” If I hadn’t heard her order my hand to be broken, if I didn’t know about her secret family, I would have nominated her for a “Wife of the Year” award. She slipped off her expensive designer blazer, draped it over a chair, and rolled up the sleeves of her white silk blouse before heading into the kitchen. She washed vegetables, chopped meat, and simmered soup with the practiced ease of a full-time homemaker. A short while later, a steaming bowl of seafood chowder was placed in front of me. She sat down, blew on a spoonful, and carefully brought it to my lips. She had put on a record, and a soft French ballad filled the room. A box of expensive, beautifully packaged macarons sat on the coffee table. In the past, a gesture like this would have brought tears to my eyes, making me feel like we were back in the sweet, early days of our love. But now, all I felt was a bone-deep chill. The matcha-flavored macarons. That obscure, sentimental French song. They were all Nathaniel’s favorites. She had just come from his side and hadn’t even bothered to switch gears. She was just recycling the same routine she used on him, on me. A true master of time management. A cold dread crept up my spine. I turned my head away from the spoon. Just then, her eyes landed on the half-open suitcase. Her expression hardened instantly. “What are you packing for?” she demanded, her tone sharp with suspicion. “Where are you going?”

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This time, I was back at the beginning of my downfall. It was the day my fiancée was secretly stealing company money to spend on the man she truly loved. But unlike before, I didn’t foolishly sell all I owned to cover for her. Instead, I took the evidence straight to the police. While she was held for questioning, I quietly ended our engagement. And just like that, I disappeared from her life completely. I did it because in my last life, I’d loved her completely for thirty years—yet she never once smiled at me. She even claimed I’d trapped her into having our daughter, and more than once, tried to kill our child with her own hands. Then came the earthquake. I was crushed under rubble after shielding her and our daughter. Once they were rescued, they calmly stopped the rescuers from coming back for me. My daughter, whom I’d cherished for over twenty years, was affectionately calling another man “Dad.” She told me, “If you hadn’t forced Mom to marry you with your money, we’d have been happy long ago.” My fiancée, Isabelle, wept happily in that man Marcus’s arms, saying, “It’s over. We can finally be together openly.” So in this life, I decided to let go. I’d let these “true lovers” have their happy ending. … 1 “Bryan, do you have any cash right now? Could you transfer me fifty million? It’s an emergency.” “Just think of it as an early wedding present from you to me!” The familiar voice and words snapped me back to reality. In my last life, when I hesitated, she went ahead and stole the company funds anyway. When she was caught, she came to me in tears, begging me to cover for her. I couldn’t bear the thought of her going to prison so young, so I drained my family’s savings, even took out loans from loan sharks. Only later did I learn the truth. The money wasn’t for a family medical emergency. It was for a grand, reckless gesture to win a trophy piece for her true love at a high-end auction. This time, I refused to be the fool. I hung up the phone. Then I called her boss and told him everything. Sure enough, the next day, Isabelle was taken away by the police for embezzling company funds. A colleague approached me, his voice cautious. “Bryan, I heard from the boss that if Isabelle can pay back the money, he won’t press charges.” “She’s your fiancée, after all. Aren’t you going to help her out? Otherwise, she could be facing over a decade behind bars.” I just shook my head. “I want to, but I can’t. Fifty million is no small sum. I could sell both my kidneys and still not come close.” My colleague nodded, murmuring, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” After he left, my mind drifted back to my past life. I was the one who had sacrificed everything to fix her mistake. Her parents, grateful, had pushed for our wedding to happen immediately. But Isabelle saw it as a trap. She believed I had orchestrated the whole thing to force her into marriage. As revenge, she carried on her affair with Marcus behind my back. She even had his child. And that very child, the daughter I had spoiled and adored for nearly three decades, was the one who stopped the rescuers from saving me. She said my money had torn her real family apart. That I was the monster responsible for her parents’ separation. That I deserved to die. And my beloved wife? Not only did she fail to silence her, she joined in the condemnation. “Bryan, if you hadn’t guilt-tripped me, I never would have married you. The only man I have ever loved is Marcus.” “Besides, I never forced you to help me. Even without you, I know Marcus would have saved me.” “Do you know why I could never stand to be in the same room with you? Because every time you touched me, I felt sick to my stomach! You’ve had me for thirty years. My daughter and I want to spend the rest of our lives with Marcus.” With that, they turned their backs on me, walking away arm-in-arm with Marcus, the perfect picture of a happy family. Trapped beneath the crushing weight, my heart flooded with rage, despair, and a grief so profound it suffocated me. I couldn’t hold on long enough for another team to arrive. I died of a broken heart. But fate gave me another chance. This time, I would not lift a finger for her. I would not be the fool again. This time, I was morbidly curious to see if Marcus would really be the knight in shining armor she believed him to be. 2 During her days in custody, Isabelle tried to contact me repeatedly. I ignored her calls. So, she had the audacity to call my parents. “Isabelle said she just made a stupid mistake,” my mother told me over the phone. “She said she was trying to invest the money so you two would have a better life after you got married.” “Bryan, you’re going to be husband and wife. You have to be there for each other, in good times and in bad. If you can help her, you should. Your father and I have some savings, you could…” I cut her off. “Mom, she’s lying to you. She took that money for another man.” I laid out the whole story for her. My mother was silent for a long time. “But honey, your father and I have known Isabelle since she was a little girl. Are you sure there hasn’t been some misunderstanding?” “There’s no misunderstanding, Mom. Just don’t you and Dad worry about this.” After hanging up, I booked my parents a month-long cruise. With them out of the city, they wouldn’t be caught in the middle of this mess. I never expected to see Isabelle again so soon, but there she was, at a friend’s party. Apparently, she’d cut a deal with her company, promising to return the full amount within two weeks. In return, they temporarily dropped the charges. Out of courtesy, everyone avoided the topic, but the glances they shot between me and her were charged with a strange tension. I couldn’t have cared less. But when my eyes met hers, and I saw the pure hatred simmering there, a jolt went through me. My gut told me: she’s been reborn, too. Just as the conversation in the private room was getting lively, the door was kicked open. Isabelle’s beloved Marcus stormed in, his eyes blazing with fury as he glared at me. “Bryan, what kind of man are you? Your fiancée is locked up, and you don’t even bother to visit her once!” “It’s a good thing you two aren’t married yet. You would have ruined her life!” I glanced coolly at the raging man, then my eyes flickered to Isabelle. I saw her entire face light up at the sight of Marcus, an undisguised tenderness in her eyes. I couldn’t help but think of my last life. Even after thirty years of marriage, she had begrudged me a single smile, let alone a look like that. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She could put on an act when she needed something from me. And every single time, it had something to do with Marcus. Like when she begged me to give him our house to live in, rent-free. Or when she asked me to empty our life savings to fund his startup. Or when she pleaded with me to donate half of my liver to him. Isabelle never tried to hide her feelings for Marcus. And I wasn’t blind. I knew. I just thought that if I loved her enough, if I was good enough to her, one day she would see me. I forgot that some people’s hearts are made of stone. You can’t warm them, no matter how hard you try. My silence only fueled Marcus’s anger. He grabbed the collar of my shirt, roaring, “Didn’t you hear me? I’m talking to you!” “Isabelle is your fiancée! Are you really going to let her go to prison? Are you even human?!” His outburst started a ripple of whispers among our friends. “Bryan always seemed so devoted to Isabelle. I can’t believe he’d just abandon her the second she got into trouble.” “Well, they’re not even married yet. It’s every man for himself when things go south.” Listening to them, I finally understood Marcus’s little performance. He and Isabelle were trying to use public pressure to force my hand. Too bad for them. The reborn me didn’t give a damn about any of it. I shoved Marcus’s hand away, my voice like ice. “For an outsider, you seem a lot more worked up about this than her actual fiancé. I guess it’s no wonder my fiancée would embezzle company funds just to buy you a trophy.” 3 The room fell silent. Every eye was now on Isabelle and Marcus. Isabelle’s face went through a kaleidoscope of colors. She shot me a look of pure disgust. “So, you knew.” I glanced at her, my voice flat. “And if I hadn’t, were you planning to just soft-soap me into cleaning up your mess?” In my last life, I only found out the truth after our wedding. We had just returned to our new home when Marcus showed up at our door. He held a diamond ring, one bought at that same auction, and slid it onto Isabelle’s finger, right in front of me. Then, he looked at me with a smirk. “I’m sure you don’t mind, Bryan. After all, you basically paid for it.” That was when I learned that her so-called “investment” was a lie. The money my parents and I had scraped together, selling almost everything we owned, had been spent on Marcus. When I confronted her, Isabelle just said it was the price I had to pay for tearing her and Marcus apart. Fine. In this life, I wished them a lifetime of being chained together. I thought that by laying the cards on the table, there would be nothing left for them to say. I was wrong. Marcus pointed a finger in my face and spat, “Bryan, you’re a real piece of work!” “The only reason Isabelle was even at that auction was because you said you wanted that pair of matching rings! She wanted to buy them for your wedding.” “Now that she’s in trouble, not only do you wash your hands of it, you try to drag her and me through the mud with you.” As he spoke, Isabelle looked at me with a wounded, resentful expression. I was certain I had never said any such thing. But our friends didn’t know that. The way they looked at me started to shift. “I always thought Bryan was a stand-up guy. I can’t believe he’s so twisted behind the scenes.” “Poor Isabelle. To have a fiancé like that.” “Isabelle, we’ve known you for years. We trust you.” “Isabelle, you need to break up with him before you get married. You can’t be with a man like that.” … They all started comforting Isabelle, one after another. With red-rimmed eyes, Isabelle thanked them. In that moment, it was as if I were the villain, the one who had betrayed her trust, the scum of the earth. But in my last life, I had treated Isabelle and her daughter like queens for thirty years. What had I done wrong? Why did I deserve such an end? I reined in my emotions. I had no intention of playing along with their little act. I was confident that my true friends wouldn’t doubt my character based on a few words from a stranger. As for the others, once they walked out of this room, I had no intention of ever seeing them again. When it became clear that I wasn’t going to cave and offer to pay her debt, Marcus started to get antsy. Just as I raised a glass of juice to my lips, he swatted it out of my hand. The glass shattered on the floor, the sound silencing the room once again. “Bryan, you’ve caused Isabelle so much misery, and you have the nerve to sit here and drink juice?” At this point, I was just tired of it all. I looked up, my eyes cold as I stared at him. “Isabelle embezzled that money for you. All the items from that auction ended up in your pocket. How dare you say I’m the one who caused this?” Marcus sneered. “If you hadn’t demanded those rings, Isabelle and I would never have even gone to that stupid auction!” “And what do you mean, the items are in my pocket? They’re all in your new house!” “Bryan, you go on and on about how much you love Isabelle, but when it comes down to it, you’re just trying to use her as a shield. Don’t you have a conscience?” Isabelle stood up then and, without a word, slapped me across the face. “Bryan, you are the biggest disappointment of my life. I’m breaking our engagement!” Her friends immediately chimed in to support her. “This is about more than just breaking up. Bryan, since this all started because of you, you’re the one who has to fix it for Isabelle.” “Exactly! If all those auction items are yours, how can you let a woman pay for them? That’s just pathetic.” “If Isabelle actually goes to prison because of you, will you be able to live with yourself?” … Listening to their accusations, I ran my tongue over the inside of my cheek where she’d hit me. I looked up and met Isabelle’s triumphant gaze. Did she really think a little public pressure would make me bend to her will? I turned on the TV in the room and connected my phone. A security video played for everyone to see. It showed the scene after the auction. Isabelle was walking out, arm-in-arm with Marcus. “Marcus, did you have a good time tonight?” “I did. But Isabelle, what about that fifty million you embezzled? How are you going to pay it back?” “Don’t worry. I’ve got that fool Bryan wrapped around my finger. All I have to do is cry a little, beg a little, and he’ll find a way to get me any amount of money I need.” “Isabelle, you’re so good to me…” Then, without a care in the world, they started kissing. I looked at Isabelle’s deathly pale face and smirked. “About that broken engagement you mentioned… I agree. After all, I have no desire to be anyone’s fool.” With that, I turned and walked out of the room.

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Today was our tenth anniversary, and our third wedding anniversary. To the outside world, Patrick and I were the perfect couple. But a string of disasters had cast a shadow over our life. It started with Patrick’s friend Dylan. He’d borrowed two hundred thousand dollars from us, then gambled it all away. Patrick was devastated, apologizing repeatedly. I swallowed my own anxiety and comforted him, telling him we’d figure it out. Two weeks later, Patrick had a minor car accident. The elderly other driver demanded compensation; we eventually paid ten thousand to settle it. A month later, Patrick’s father was diagnosed with kidney failure. An urgent transplant would cost around fifty thousand dollars. I remembered ten years ago, when a boulder nearly hit us on a hike. Patrick shielded me with his body, landing him in the ICU. When he woke, he transferred all his assets to my name, saying it was to ensure my safety. But now, three years into our marriage, he was secretly moving those same assets. I once overheard the delicate girl in his arms call me a washed-up hag, asking when I’d die. Patrick soothed her, saying, “Just wait a little longer.” I kept asking: what is love? Then I saw a forum post: “How do you know if he truly loves you?” The top comment read: “Love is fluid. It answers to no one.” In that moment, something settled inside me. A decade, leading here. But I wouldn’t accept this as my ending. … It was one thing after another, a crushing weight that left us breathless. Patrick held me, his tears dampening my neck. “I’m so sorry, Anna,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry for dragging you through all this.” “This is nothing,” I murmured, stroking his back as I transferred the money to his parents’ account. “We’ve been through worse.” And we had. After grad school, Patrick caught the tech wave, co-founding Serenity Tech with a classmate to develop stress-relief mobile games. In the early days, they were short-staffed and had no money for employees. After a sleepless night, I quit my stable government job and became Serenity Tech’s fourth employee. My bachelor’s was in accounting and my master’s was in finance, so I took on everything: administration, finance, sales, even cleaning. At our poorest, we were crammed into a sixty-dollar-a-month basement, living on instant ramen. I remember joking through a mouthful of noodles, “Patrick, when can I upgrade to the cup noodles?” His eyes had turned red, his voice thick. “Anna,” he’d sworn, “one day, I’ll make sure you have beef soup for breakfast, pork ribs for lunch, and Italian steak for dinner.” Back then, the good life was just a meal with meat. Now, six years later, Serenity Tech was on the verge of going public, thanks to a few hit games. We’d moved from that basement to a sprawling penthouse downtown. The recent expenses were a drop in the bucket, but old habits die hard, and every large withdrawal still felt like a punch to the gut. After sending the money, I let out a long sigh. “Patrick, I feel like we’ve had a run of bad luck. I’m going to go to the Sanctuary of Hope tomorrow and get a charm for you.” I was a staunch atheist, but four years ago, that had changed. We were on a road trip, driving through the mountains, when a massive rock dislodged and came hurtling down, slamming directly onto the hood of our car. Before I could even process what was happening, Patrick had thrown his entire body over me in the passenger seat. I was untouched. He was left unconscious with a severe head injury and rushed to the ICU. That night, the doctor told me, “He took a direct hit to the head. There’s bleeding in his brain. If he wakes up within 24 hours, he should be fine. If not, we’ll have to perform surgery. And even then, there are no guarantees.” I collapsed, my legs giving out from under me, begging the doctor to save him. He must have taken pity on me. “Miss,” he’d said gently, “there’s a small chapel near the north entrance. Maybe you should go there. He’s down, but you need to be strong.” I knelt in that chapel for two solid hours, praying to any god that would listen to let Patrick wake up. I offered ten years of my life for his safety. If ten wasn’t enough, I’d give twenty. The next morning, as the first rays of dawn streamed through the hospital window, Patrick’s eyes fluttered open. The tears I’d held back while he was unconscious came flooding out, and I cried until I couldn’t breathe. Once he was stable, he squeezed my hand. “Anna,” he said, his voice firm, “I’ve made up my mind. When I get out of here, I’m putting all my assets in your name.” I didn’t understand. He brushed a stray piece of hair from my forehead. “Anna, when I was in the coma… I could hear you. All I could think was, if I really died, what would you do? We’re not even married. My relatives would have swarmed in to fight over my inheritance, and you would have been all alone. So I’m giving everything to you. That way, if something happens, I can rest in peace knowing you’ll be taken care of.” “Don’t say that! Don’t you dare leave before I do,” I’d choked out, tapping his chest with a weak fist. He’d cried out, “Oww, that hurts!” As I leaned in, worried I’d actually hurt him, he produced a diamond ring from under his pillow. “Anna Scott,” he’d whispered, “will you marry Patrick Leigh?” There was no hesitation. This man had saved my life with his own. If it wasn’t for him, I would have been the one lying in that hospital bed. I slipped my finger through the ring. It was a perfect fit. He pulled me into a hug, his body still trembling with the aftershock. “Babe, I was going to propose on this trip. I guess fate had other plans. But they say what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. From now on, I’m going to treat you like a princess.” From that day on, I started to believe. I would stop at every church, every chapel, not for myself, but to pray for Patrick’s safety. … So the next morning, I drove to the Sanctuary of Hope, the most visited spiritual place in the city. I knelt before the altar for two hours straight. With the blessed charm in hand, I was about to leave when I heard a small cry from the entrance. “Ma’am, I twisted my ankle. Can you help me?” The girl who called out was in her early twenties, dressed in a simple white dress, her makeup minimal. A high ponytail swung as she moved, and her fair face had a touch of stubbornness to it, reminding me of myself right after college. I felt an instant sense of connection and rushed over to help her up. She thanked me profusely. “Oh, thank you so much! A lot of people just walked past, but you were the only one who stopped. You know,” she gushed, “when I saw you, I felt this instant connection, like we were meant to be sisters.” Her enthusiasm was a little overwhelming. “It’s no problem,” I said, trying to gently disengage. “Let me get security to help you.” But she suddenly gripped my hand. “Oh, by the way, my German tutor taught me a word the other day, Seelenverwandt. I can’t for the life of me remember what it means. Do you know?” The change in topic was abrupt, and my guard went up instantly. She was smiling at me, but her eyes held a new glint of condescending amusement. I’d never formally studied German, but Patrick had minored in it. The very first word he ever taught me was Seelenverwandt. A spiritual twin. A soulmate. Patrick used to call me his Seelenverwandt. He said our love was symbiotic, a bond that would last until death. For years, it was our secret code, the word we’d whisper before we kissed. My pinned social media post was still the nine-photo collage from the day we got our marriage license, the caption reading: Congratulations to my Seelenverwandt, Mr. Leigh. You’ve just won the chance to spend the rest of your life with me. And now, a complete stranger was asking me what Seelenverwandt meant. My mind went to the one place I didn’t want it to go. Patrick was cheating on me. I struggled to keep my voice steady. “Do you know Patrick?” The girl blinked innocently. “Nope, never heard of him. Oh! I just remembered I have German homework to finish. I should get going. Can we exchange numbers, though? If you don’t mind.” She continued, her words a rapid-fire assault. “By the way, my name is Piper. My German tutor loves calling me ‘Anna.’ He says Piper is peaceful, and so is Anna. Isn’t he cute? Oh, I have no filter, you’ll have to forgive me. I’ll call you later to thank you properly.” Normally, I would have politely declined. But Piper had planted a seed of doubt, and I couldn’t stand uncertainty. Some things had to be brought into the light. By the time I got home, it was evening. Patrick had said he had a business dinner and would be home around nine. Our housekeeper, Maria, brought me a bowl of soup. “Ma’am, the mister specifically asked me to make this for you. He said your period is coming, and you always get bad cramps, so you need to eat well and stay warm.” I sat at the table, lost in thought. On one hand, there was a decade of Patrick’s unwavering care and affection. On the other, a stranger’s vague, provocative words. Shouldn’t I give the man I shared my bed with more credit? Maria kept chattering. “He’s so good to you, ma’am. You’ve been married all this time with no children, and he never pressures you. Whenever anyone asks, he just jokes that it’s his fault. If you ask me, you should hurry up and have a baby. Otherwise, all those other women out there will be lining up to have one for him…” I slammed my bowl down on the table. “Maria, if you’re tired, perhaps it’s time for you to go home and retire!” She shut her mouth, looking chastened. But her words had tightened the knot of anxiety in my chest. We had been together ten years, married for three, and were still childless. At first, it was because of the startup. Then, last year, I’d had a chemical pregnancy, a loss that happened before we even knew to be excited. So, at the beginning of this year, I had stepped down from my role as CFO at the company to focus on getting pregnant. And now, I was faced with the possibility that my entire marriage was a lie. I immediately contacted the best private investigator in the city. Whatever the outcome, I needed the truth. Once that was done, I tried to clear my head and idly scrolled through my phone. The first thing I saw was a new post from Piper. Got in trouble with my German tutor again. I forgot the meaning of Seelenverwandt today, so my punishment is to whisper it in his ear a thousand times. And if my pronunciation is off, I get a little swat. Can someone report a teacher for corporal punishment? The accompanying photo was taken in a massive floor-length mirror. A girl in a tight, black lace dress was kneeling. Behind her stood a man in a suit, holding a leather riding crop. The photo was artfully blurred, but the man’s build was unmistakably Patrick’s. Half an hour later, another post from Piper. Class is finally over. I’m exhausted. The picture was just the riding crop, lying on a plush surface, the leather gleaming under the light. I couldn’t breathe. A war raged in my head. You’ve been together for ten years. You’ve been through hell and back. You know him better than anyone. How can you doubt him? He took a rock for you! He has a permanent get-out-of-jail-free card with you! Love is fickle. Do you really think it can withstand any temptation? Piper is younger, prettier, has a better body. If I were a man, I’d choose her too. “Enough!” I slammed my hand on the table, my control finally snapping. The soup bowl tipped over, red broth spilling across the wood and dripping onto the floor. A complete mess. “Babe, what’s wrong?” It was Patrick. He was home. The timing was perfect. Piper’s “class” had just ended, and here he was. The suspicion was so thick I couldn’t even pretend to be happy to see him. I fantasized, for a moment, about him confessing, and me destroying everything he had ever built. Patrick glanced at my phone screen and let out a long, heavy sigh. “Babe, I knew this day would come. Let me explain.”

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As the first zoologist to discover the mythical Harpies, my life was once shattered by fate. In my past life, I passed the entrance exam and partnered with the brilliant Stella for an overseas fellowship. Together, we won the highest international award, hailed as a dream team. But our success drove her envious junior colleague, Toby, to overdose. The night before our return, Stella made a televised accusation, claiming I had sold our national research to a foreign corporation. “You stole Toby’s study materials and pushed him to fail!” she cried, calling me a traitor unworthy of science. Only then did I realize she had stolen my father’s research, ruining his reputation. He died in disgrace. My mother, tricked by Stella into entering a wild reserve to help me, was killed by wolves, leaving no remains. The forged “traitor’s agreement” sealed my fate. No institution would take me, and I fell from promising scholar to a homeless wanderer abroad. One snowy winter night, I froze to death on the street, my life over in half a month. Now, back from hell with bitter memories, I held back. In the selection exam, I carefully scored second place. Watching Stella and her protégé celebrate on the results board, I smiled coldly. This time, I’d watch from the sidelines and see who that coveted award would truly destroy. 1 “Toby got first place? Isn’t Oliver always the one who aces these things? Could it be true what Toby’s been saying, that Oliver was cheating all this time?” Toby held the printout with his top score high in the air, strutting around like a proud rooster. “Those little quizzes were just warm-ups. A high-level thesis discussion like today’s is what really separates the wheat from the chaff. It seems some people around here rely on cheap tricks to get by!” He shot a contemptuous glare directly at me. Everyone in our two-hundred-person research division knew I was the one who practically lived and died in the lab. This crucial selection was a fluke victory for him, a blind squirrel finding a nut, and he was going to milk it for all it was worth to grind me into the dust. I leaned against the wall, a humorless laugh escaping my lips. “The scores are right there for everyone to see. You can keep barking, but it won’t change the facts.” He bristled as if I’d stepped on his tail, then turned and sagged against Stella’s shoulder, his voice dripping with faux-pity. “Stella, look at him! The way he scoffs at me. I was just having an off-period before, that’s the only reason he ever got ahead!” Stella wrapped an arm around his shoulders, her eyes slicing towards me like shards of ice. “So, you stole Toby’s study materials and still couldn’t manage to take first. Lashing out now that you’re embarrassed, are we? Let’s see how long you can keep playing these dirty, back-alley games.” I raised an eyebrow, catching the flicker of calculation in her eyes. In that instant, it hit me. She’s been reborn, too. Whispers immediately erupted around us. “Oliver stole Toby’s notes? That’s messed up. No wonder Toby was always stuck in second place, he was being sabotaged!” “If someone at Stella’s level is saying it, it must be true. What a scumbag, using tricks like that to get ahead. Makes me sick!” The glares and sharp-edged insults rained down on me, but I didn’t even flinch. I walked over to a nearby bench and sat down, calmly waiting for the Director to arrive and make his selection. In my last life, it was because I’d so spectacularly taken first place that the Director had singled me out, kicking off the nightmare that allowed Stella to destroy my entire family. This time, I had no interest in being the nail that stuck out in this cesspool. When the Director entered with the results sheet, his brow furrowed into a knot. “How is Oliver second? I’ve reviewed his files from the past two years. His performance metrics have consistently been the best in the entire institute.” Toby immediately crossed his arms, sniffing disdainfully. “That’s only because he’s so conniving. He stole my core notes before the exam. Otherwise, first place would have always been mine!” I almost burst out laughing. In all our previous tests, he’d fought tooth and nail just to scrape into the top ten. One lucky break and he was acting like he was the next Einstein. My undisguised smirk infuriated Stella. She shot me a warning glare before turning to the Director, putting on her expert air. “Oliver’s test scores are admittedly good, but that doesn’t mean he has the scientific intuition to handle a project of this caliber.” “Toby and I have worked together in the lab countless times. Our synergy is unmatched. If he’s my partner, I guarantee the project’s progress will double in speed.” She was the lead researcher, handpicked for the project. Her words carried immense weight. It was a blatant power play: choose Toby, or she’d walk. Watching the proud, certain look on her face, so sure the Director would cave, a bottomless, cold amusement filled me. In my last life, our partnership was nothing like the harmonious duo the media portrayed. She barely even bothered to show up at the lab. The all-nighters that left my eyes bloodshot and burning? I pulled every single one of them alone. On the rare occasion she graced the lab with her presence, her only pastime was to stand aside and mock me. “Toby is my true soulmate in science. No one but him will ever touch my core data.” “You schemed your way into his spot, so this is what you get. Let’s see what world-shaking discoveries you can make all on your own.” This time, without me toiling away in the dark for her, I was eager to see what kind of “world-shaking” results she and the useless Toby could possibly produce. The Director, cornered, looked helpless. His gaze shifted between us, finally landing on me with a hint of regret. “But Oliver was the first to discover traces of that rare, harpy-like creature. The higher-ups were actually leaning towards having him lead the subsequent in-depth research.” 2 Stella’s face darkened instantly. The look in her eyes was like a poisoned blade, promising to devour me whole if I dared to nod in agreement. “I’m sorry, but I’ve already decided on a new research direction. And frankly, I have zero interest in partnering with Stella,” I said, cutting off any possibility of negotiation. The Director opened his mouth to try and persuade me, but Stella cut him off harshly. Her jaw twitched, a muscle pulsing in her cheek as she forced a cold laugh. “If he’s going to be so ungrateful, why waste your breath, Director? I wouldn’t want to share a room with a sewer rat who steals from his colleagues anyway.” “A ‘new research direction’… I wonder which poor soul he stole that from.” At that moment, Toby’s sharp eyes landed on the thick stack of files at my side. He gasped, covering his mouth theatrically. “You’re not going to work on the amphibious mutant species, are you? I’ve been the one leading that research! What you’re holding has to be the raw data I spent nights compiling!” “Oliver, have you no shame? Are you going to steal my hard work, too?” I casually flipped through the file, my gaze cold as I stared him down. “Stolen from you? Again? Toby, is it that your brain is so incapable of producing anything of value that you assume every research breakthrough in the world must have been stolen from you?” In all his years at the institute, he hadn’t even managed to win a third-rate regional prize. The jab hit its mark. His eyes reddened, and he shrank behind Stella like a wronged child. “It just looked familiar, I was just saying! I never said for sure that you stole it. Oliver, why do you have to humiliate me like that?” Stella hugged him protectively, patting his back as if soothing a puppy. Her glare at me was murderous. She lunged forward, snatched the file from my hands, and, in front of everyone, ripped it to shreds with a vicious shrrriiip. “It’s just a few scraps of paper! What’s the big deal? I could produce a dozen better proposals for Toby with my eyes closed. You enjoy twisting the knife, don’t you? Waving this in his face just to feel superior?” That was the culmination of six months of fieldwork, countless trips to remote observation sites. In her eyes, it was worth less than a single one of Toby’s crocodile tears. She turned to the Director, her tone an undisguised threat. “Do you see now? Oliver is nothing but a bully who preys on the weak. If the board insists on forcing me to partner with a piece of trash like him, I’ll quit the project altogether!” The Director panicked. The institute couldn’t afford to lose a star like Stella. He quickly capitulated. “Alright, alright! Toby it is. You and Toby will form the special research team.” Toby peeked out from behind Stella’s shoulder, shooting me a look of pure provocation and contempt. I just shrugged, turning to leave the toxic room. “Stop,” Stella’s voice, sharp and commanding, cut through the air. She had regained her icy, superior composure. “Now that Toby is my partner, you will vacate your private lab for him. Also, you’ll take over all the menial tasks the Dean assigned him. He needs to be well-rested for the intense research ahead.” The sheer audacity of her gangster-like demands made me laugh. “My private lab was granted to me for winning a national gold medal last year. On what grounds should I give it to him? And why should I be his free labor for the work he’s supposed to do?” In this brutally competitive institute, only top-tier researchers who had won national-level honors or higher were granted a private lab. It wasn’t just about resources; it was a symbol of status. Toby didn’t deserve it. The administration had considered making an exception for him once, pulling strings just for him. But then I won that prestigious gold medal. Stella herself had marched into the Dean’s office and, with a grand gesture, donated a fortune to outfit it with state-of-the-art equipment, turning it into a world-class facility as a “surprise” for me. “Oliver, this is my first big gift to you. Be a good boy, and there’ll be more where that came from.” Those words, once spoken with a mix of pride and tenderness, now dripped with nothing but ice. “I’m the one who funded that lab for you. Now, I’m taking it back. Because you are no longer worthy of it.” That single sentence was a dull, rusty knife carving a bloody, ragged wound in my chest. I clenched my jaw, swallowing the metallic taste of blood that rose in my throat, and answered, word by word. “Fine. The lab is his. But as for the Dean’s assignments, I won’t write a single damn comma for him.” That lab was filled with her presence, with things that were never truly mine. They felt tainted. I was ready to leave it all behind. 3 I scrolled to the very bottom of my contact list, found the number I hadn’t touched in years, took a deep breath, and hit dial. “You once told me you wanted me as your permanent partner. Does that offer still stand?” There was no hesitation on the other end, just a clear, steady female voice. “That spot by my side has always been yours, Oliver. You just had to say the word.” Harper. The genius researcher who had swept countless international awards. In our last life, she had delayed her entire project waiting for me to come to my senses, ultimately costing her that year’s top global prize. This time, we would finally fight side by side. After hanging up, I immediately began the paperwork for a transfer to Munich. As I walked out of the HR office, clutching a thick stack of handover documents, I ran straight into Stella and Toby. Toby’s sharp eyes caught the “Overseas Transfer Application” printed on my folder. He let out an exaggerated, cold laugh. “And here I thought you had some backbone, that you’d actually give up on Stella. Turns out you’re just going to shamelessly follow us abroad? Have you no dignity?” Stella let out a derisive snort, her eyes filled with a lofty pity. “Oliver, why do you insist on torturing yourself? Even if you follow me across the world like a stray dog, I won’t give you a second glance.” I calmly flipped the file over, showing them the name of the receiving party. “I’m going abroad because I’ve found a new partner. This has absolutely nothing to do with you.” When Toby saw the thunderous name on the document—Harper—he froze, then burst into even harsher laughter. “You barely scraped second place in our own institute’s selection, and you think a god-tier researcher like Harper would even look at you? She’s at the absolute pinnacle of our field. You couldn’t come up with a more ridiculous lie if you tried!” Stella, however, stared at the name, her expression shifting like a volatile storm. I had no time for their games and was about to walk around them when Stella grabbed my arm, yanking me into a corner of the hallway. She lowered her voice, her tone laced with fury. “I know you threw the exam to let Toby win. You were trying to get back at me. But changing partners is a massive decision. Why didn’t you report it to me first?” “Go and cancel your application with her right now, before word gets out.” She tilted her chin up, so certain that I was still the puppet who danced on her strings. I wrenched my arm free, finding her entitled expression utterly ridiculous. “And why should I take orders from you?” Her jaw tightened, her eyes flashing with impatience. “Because I’ve already planned it all out. Toby will be my public partner, a face for the media. You will continue to be my shadow partner, working behind the scenes. Isn’t that a perfect solution?” I frowned, unable to process her twisted logic. She looked at me as if I were an imbecile, continuing to explain as if granting me a great favor. “The repetitive, tedious work in the lab is draining. Toby’s a light sleeper as it is; he needs at least twelve hours of rest a day.” “So, you’ll still be the one to handle the heavy lifting, the core data analysis. When the time comes… if we win an award with that data, I’ll speak to the Dean. I’ll have a brand-new lab built just for you as compensation.” Now I understood. She wanted me to sweat and slave away like a mule in a windowless basement, while Toby strutted onto a brightly lit stage in a designer suit to accept the accolades. The sheer audacity was breathtaking. I laughed, a sound devoid of any humor. “Putting someone else’s name on your work is called academic fraud. Do you have the guts to repeat that in the Director’s office?” She was instantly enraged, her eyebrows shooting up as she pointed a finger at my nose, hissing. “Oliver! I’m offering you a way out! You’re the one who started this jealous drama, all to force me to acknowledge you as my partner again, weren’t you?” Seeing the fury and arrogance swirling in her eyes, a chilling coldness crept up my spine. I remembered my past life, how I’d unhesitatingly rejected offers from three of the world’s top labs just to stay by her side. For the crumbs of affection she occasionally threw my way, I worked like a machine devoid of pain, my eyes burning from sleepless nights, secretly fixing God knows how many of Toby’s screw-ups. I clenched my fists, my nails digging deep into my palms, and stared into her eyes, enunciating each word. “I will never agree.” Her chest heaved with rage. Just as she was about to explode, Toby’s melodramatic sobs echoed from the other end of the hall. Stella’s expression changed in a flash. She hurried over to find Toby crumpled on the floor, clutching a reference book that had been cut to ribbons, crying his eyes out. “Stella, Oliver did this! To get back at me for taking his spot as your partner, he snuck into the lab and destroyed my core reference materials!” Stella pulled him into a tender embrace, her voice soft enough to melt steel. “Don’t cry. I’ll make him pay. I won’t let anyone who bullies you get away with it.” Toby, trembling like a frightened quail in her arms, shook his head theatrically. “Let’s just forget it and go abroad. If we stay under the same roof as Oliver, I’m afraid next time he’ll destroy months of my research.” I watched this pathetic melodrama unfold, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Your mediocre research is hardly worth my effort. Besides, this entire hallway, including the lab, is covered by 360-degree surveillance cameras. We can just pull the footage and see who’s really directing this little play. Or do you prefer to just keep wailing here?” My words only made Toby cry harder. Stella whipped her head around, her eyes promising murder. She snatched the shredded hardcover book from the floor and hurled it at my face. “You commit this disgusting act of revenge against Toby, show no remorse, and then have the audacity to bully him with your words! Oliver, you forced my hand!” The heavy corner of the book struck me right beside my eye. A sharp, piercing pain erupted, and warm blood trickled down my cheekbone. The last trace of expression vanished from my face. My voice was as cold as ice. “You won’t even check the cameras. You condemn me based on his word alone. Stella, have you ever considered that you’re nothing more than a puppet, and he’s the one pulling your strings?” She clenched her fists, roaring like an enraged lioness. “Toby’s heart is as pure as a blank sheet of paper! Even if I willingly let him use me, he would never stoop to something like this! Unlike you, with your mind full of schemes and gutter-water ambition!” Faced with her fury, I simply wiped the blood from my eye, my expression as placid as if I were looking at a stranger. Suddenly, she let out a chilling, eerie laugh and strode into my lab. She grabbed a scalpel from the desk and plunged it violently into the temperature-controlled incubator. The specialized glass casing shattered with a sharp crack. Warm, light-blue nutrient fluid and viscous matter spilled across the table. Those were the rare, thought-to-be-extinct biological specimens I had spent eight years cultivating, poring over ancient texts to bring back from the brink. They were only three days away from hatching. She turned her head, a sick, almost cruel smile on her face. “How does it feel? To have your life’s work destroyed in an instant?! Toby has poured ten times more effort into his research than you ever have, so you deserve to swallow this pain ten times over!” She overturned the entire incubator in a frenzy. The precious eggs rolled across the floor. In her high heels, right in front of me, she brought her foot down, again, and again, grinding them into a stinking, putrid mess. The crowd gathered at the door was dead silent, no one daring to breathe. They were all waiting, waiting to see me collapse to my knees as I had in the past, begging her to stop. But they were disappointed. I simply bent down, expressionless, picked up my scattered transfer documents, and walked away into the deepening night. While waiting in the airport lounge, my phone lit up with a text from a colleague. [Stella says if you come crawling back right now and kneel before the whole institute to apologize to Toby, she might consider asking the Dean to let you stay.] I replied without a moment’s hesitation: [Tell her not to bother. From this day forward, I am done with her, and with this place. Forever.] I turned off the phone, snapped the SIM card in half, and dropped it into a trash can. Boarding pass in hand, I walked onto the flight to Germany without a single look back. As for who would claim that grand international award, she could just watch and see.

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