Category: English

After getting married to—and pregnant by—my sworn enemy, a freak accident sent me hurtling back in time. Back to the year our hatred for each other was at its absolute peak. He handed me a tissue as a sudden wave of nausea hit me, his voice laced with ice. “Whose is it?” “Not telling me? Fine,” he scoffed. “Doesn’t matter.” He lowered his gaze, his long lashes concealing the dark, turbulent emotions in his eyes. “If you won’t tell me, I’ll find out myself.” “And when I find him,” he promised, his voice a low, dangerous growl, “I’m going to kill him.” I poked his grim, stormy face. “But Jason,” I said, “the baby is yours.” Jason: “?” 1 The moment I saw Jason, I knew something was off. His shoulders were slightly hunched, the corners of his eyes tilted upwards, and a ghost of a smirk played on his lips. Every word out of his mouth was dripping with sarcasm. “Well, well, Chloe. Fancy seeing you here. But—” He snatched the wine glass from my hand. “Do your parents know?” He continued his one-man show. “I seem to recall they explicitly forbade you from drinking ever again. Should I give them a little reminder? Maybe get them to cancel this credit card, too?” I stared at him, suspicion creeping in. I held his gaze until the tips of his ears turned a faint red. He cleared his throat. “Don’t even try the puppy-dog eyes. It won’t work on me.” A theory started to form in my mind. “Jason, what year is it?” His face darkened, his voice edged with annoyance. “Chloe, I take my eyes off you for five minutes, and you’re already drunk off your ass?” The back of his hand was cool against my cheek. He leaned in, his nose almost touching mine, and I caught the familiar, pleasant scent of cedarwood. “You don’t even smell like alcohol,” he murmured, confused. “How are you…” Jason hadn’t worn cologne since I got pregnant. The scent hit me like a ton of bricks. I clapped a hand over my mouth and bolted for the restroom, heaving until my head spun. As I was rinsing my mouth at the sink, Jason appeared beside me, offering a paper towel. The warm, orange light of the bathroom blurred his features, but his voice was thick with resentment. “Is the sight of me really that repulsive to you? Did you have to throw up?” I wiped my mouth. “Sorry. Can’t help it.” His eyes darkened. He clenched his jaw, forcing the words through his teeth. “…Chloe, do you hate me that much?” Looking at him, it all clicked. The post-marriage Jason would never dare speak to me like this, would never look at me with such open hostility. This dynamic—this was us, years ago. This was back when we couldn’t stand the sight of each other. No love. Pure, unadulterated hate. Seeing his reaction, a mischievous urge took over. “Can’t you tell, Jason?” I said sweetly. “This isn’t disgust. It’s morning sickness.” 2 Jason and I were inseparable as kids. We shared popsicles in the summer and huddled under the same blanket in the winter. Our parents’ favorite joke was that they should just arrange our marriage then and there. But then puberty hit, and Jason turned cold. He walked around with a permanent scowl, acting like he was God’s gift to the world. At that age, the lines between boys and girls were already a minefield. Sensing his hostility, I started to pull away, too. But Jason wouldn’t let me go. He went out of his way to antagonize me, using our childhood friendship as an excuse to control my life. If I so much as went to the library with a male classmate, he’d run to my parents and accuse me of having a secret boyfriend. I once grabbed him by the collar, furious. “Jason, what the hell is your problem? You can’t stand to see me happy, can you? Just because your love life is a train wreck, you have to drag me down with you?” His hair was a mess from my grip, and he bit his lip, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, looking for all the world like a kicked puppy. I froze, the heat from his skin burning my palm. I dropped my hands as if I’d been scalded. “Ugh, stop faking it, you manipulative jerk,” I spat, before turning and running away. After that day, we became mortal enemies. We fought, we schemed, we were constantly at each other’s throats, locked in a battle to the death. But the outcome was something no one ever saw coming. In the end, after all the fighting, Jason and I got married. 3 Jason snapped out of his shock. “I don’t believe you,” he said immediately. Classic Jason. I didn’t waste time arguing. I dragged him to the hospital and let him watch as I went through a full prenatal check-up. He stared at the damning numbers on the report, unable to deny it any longer. His fingers trembled, his voice like shattered glass. “Whose is it? Does he know?” I tilted my head. “Well, he probably does now.” His face was a thundercloud. He slammed his fist into the hospital wall, muttering a curse under his breath. He took a deep, shuddering breath, then softened his tone. “I won’t tell your parents. You need to rest for the next couple of days. I’ll arrange for a doctor to perform the procedure.” “What procedure?” I asked, feigning innocence. “An abortion.” He forced a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I already spoke with the doctor. It’s still early, so the risk to you is minimal… You’re not going to tell me you want to keep it, are you?” I nodded firmly. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing back and forth in front of me. “Chloe, are you out of your mind?! You’re still so young! Do you think this is as simple as getting a puppy? You’re still in college! How are you going to be responsible for another human being?” “You’re overthinking it, Jason,” I said vaguely. “If I can’t handle it, the baby’s father will help out.” Jason just laughed, a cold, bitter sound. The corners of his eyes were unnaturally red. “If that bastard had any sense of responsibility, he wouldn’t have let you get pregnant in the first place. He’s just trying to trap you, tie you down with a baby!” I tried to defend my “baby daddy.” “Don’t talk about him like that. He’s actually a pretty good guy.” Jason’s hands fell to his sides. His gaze was like a snake, coiling around me. Then, he smiled. “You know, Chloe, I never took you for the type to be blinded by love. You like him that much? Enough to throw away your entire future? I’m dying to know who this guy is. Who could possibly make you stoop so low?” I was about to tell him the truth before he completely lost it, but then he started spilling his own secrets like a broken dam. “That senior you had a crush on? I had him sent abroad. That aspiring actor who was hitting on you? His career is over. And that pretty boy who lives next door to you? He’s playing for the other team now. Chloe, I’ve always been watching you. Besides me, who else do you have?” I froze. I remembered all those guys. We’d had brief, flirtatious moments, but then, one by one, they had all disappeared from my life for one reason or another. I had always just chalked it up to my terrible luck with men. “…That was all you?” My feelings were a complicated mess. After we got married, I’d told him about my past relationships, and he had pretended to know nothing. “Jason, you are one seriously messed up individual.” He just smirked. “It’s fine if you don’t tell me. I’ll find out myself.” His expression turned vicious, a vein popping on his forehead. “And Chloe, when I find him, I swear I’m going to kill him.” I sighed. “You really want to know who it is?” Under his intense, scrutinizing gaze, I reached out and poked his stormy face. “It’s you.” The darkness on his face only deepened. “Chloe, you’d really go this far to protect him? You’d even lie to me?” Ugh, this was getting nowhere. I looked at his tightly pressed lips. I remembered his younger brother once telling me that Jason had a secret crush, a “white moonlight,” that he’d been pining over for years. I never said anything, but it had always bothered me. Had he held her? Had he kissed her? The thought always left a bitter taste in my mouth, a frustration I could only relieve by kissing him senseless. But no matter how many times I kissed him, I would never be his first. If my timeline was correct, his “white moonlight” wasn’t even back in the country yet. A wicked idea sparked in my mind. I stood on my toes, hooked my arms around his neck, and pressed my lips against his. His lips were cool, but his mouth was like molten lava. The Jason in front of me was just an inexperienced kid; he was no match for the seasoned woman I had become. When the kiss ended, I winked at him. “So? Do you believe me now?” He looked like a malfunctioning robot, a deep blush spreading from his cheeks all the way down his neck. He opened his mouth a few times, but no words came out. After a long, awkward silence, a look of grim determination settled on his face. “Have the baby,” he said. “I’ll be the father.” … I slapped him across the face. “Get lost.” 4 “Chloe? Nah, my brother’s not here.” I pushed his younger brother, Caleb, into the apartment. “I’m not looking for your brother. I’m looking for you.” The moment I stepped inside, I wrinkled my nose. “Caleb, when was the last time you left this apartment?” I pulled open the curtains, and he shrieked like a goblin exposed to sunlight, scurrying into the shadows. Caleb was Jason’s polar opposite. Jason was the life of the party; Caleb was a hardcore recluse. He wore the same black jacket every day and glasses as thick as Coke bottles. He spent all his time hunched over his computer, doing God knows what. “Chloe, what’s up? Does my brother know you’re here? Maybe I should let him know.” “Tell your brother what?” I glared at him. “You’re not to say a word.” “…It’s nothing, really,” I continued. “Remember how you told me your brother has been hung up on his first love for years?” Caleb was quiet for a moment, thinking. Then he let out a slow, “Ohhh.” “What about her?” I cleared my throat. “She’s coming back to the country soon, isn’t she? Do you know her flight information? I’m just curious. I want to see what the woman who’s had your brother obsessed for so long looks like. No other reason.” No other reason. Yeah, right. Jason had dropped out of college and fled the country because she had rejected him. Even after we were married, I could still feel his lingering affection for her in the careless things he’d say. “It’s fine,” I’d once said, waving a dismissive hand, trying to act magnanimous. “Everyone has an ex. I dated like, seven or eight guys before you.” Jason’s hand on my waist had tightened. “Is that so, darling? You’re quite… experienced, then.” His voice was low and dangerous. “So I guess you won’t mind if we get a little wild tonight?” I’d stuck my chin out. “Of course not!” After that night, I swore I would never try to act tough in front of Jason again. At least, not in bed. 5 Now that I had the chance to go back, I was going to nip their little romance in the bud. Caleb’s expression was even more bewildered. “You mean back in high school?” I prompted. “When he suddenly became all cold and aloof? You told me it was because the girl he had a crush on liked that type, so he was trying to imitate it.” Understanding dawned on his face. His thick glasses hid his eyes, but his tone was laced with a strange, knowing quality. “Ohhh, that.” “Is your brother still in touch with her?” “…I don’t know if I’m allowed to say.” “Hey!” I snapped. “I’m the one who pulled you out of the pool when you were a kid! You used to follow me around calling me ‘sis’! Are you telling me you’re choosing your brother over me? You don’t have to cover for him. I already know who the girl is.” Caleb looked skeptical. “You really know, Chloe?” I remembered back in high school, the only girl Jason was ever close to was the class president, Maya Evans. People were always whispering about them. Then, right after graduation, Maya’s family emigrated. So, she had to be the one. “I’m not asking you to do anything bad,” I said. “Just get me her flight information. I’ll handle the rest.” Caleb’s protests were futile. He sat down at his computer, and a few clicks later, Maya’s flight details were on my phone. I beamed, then noticed his collar was flipped up. I reached out to fix it, and he shot up from his chair as if he’d been electrocuted. My hand froze in mid-air, suddenly awkward. “Ch-Chloe, I can get it myself.” I clicked my tongue. “So jumpy. It’s not like I’m going to eat you.” He clutched his collar like a damsel in distress. “But… this isn’t right. What if my brother sees? He’ll get the wrong idea.” I was speechless. “The wrong idea about what? Caleb, you really need to get out more. Your social skills have completely atrophied. What am I, the scandalous sister-in-law having an affair with her husband’s brother?” He stumbled backward, tripping over his computer tower. My hand was still on him, and I went down with him. My forehead smacked into his chin, and we both lay there, stunned and speechless with pain. When I finally recovered, I saw that his glasses had fallen off. “You know,” I mused, “you’re actually kind of cute without your glasses.” And of course, at that exact moment, the door opened. It was Jason. “Caleb,” he asked, “why is Chloe here? When did you two get so…?” The door swung open, and the first thing Jason saw was me, kneeling on top of his brother, one hand on his chest, the other cupping his chin, while Caleb lay there with his shirt in disarray, teary-eyed, and a suspicious blush on his cheeks. Jason strode over, grabbed my wrist, and yanked me off Caleb. He smiled, but it was a smile that held no warmth. “Well, Chloe,” he said, his voice dripping with venom. “No wonder you wouldn’t tell me. So, you’re carrying my little niece or nephew, are you?” 6 Caleb scrambled to put his glasses back on. “Bro, it’s not what it looks like! The floor was slippery, we fell, that’s why she was on top of me… Stop glaring at me, I’m getting off her, see?” He was only making things worse. “Ugh, Caleb, just stop talking,” I groaned. “Jason, it was an accident… a-and unclench your fist, okay? He’s your only brother, let’s not kill him.” “An accident?” Jason sneered. “Fine. Let’s say this was an accident. What about the pregnancy?” “Pr-pregnancy?” Caleb stammered, his eyes wide. “Who’s pregnant?” Before Jason could say more, I clamped a hand over his mouth and shot Caleb a look that could kill. He took the hint and practically flew out of the room, shutting the door behind him. Jason’s eyes were dark and stormy. “You’re still protecting him? After he’s clearly trying to shirk his responsibility? Don’t stop me, Chloe. I’m cleaning house today.” His voice was terrifyingly calm. I had no doubt he was serious. “What are you talking about? The baby’s not his! Me and Caleb? Do you really think that’s possible? He’s like a little brother to me!” “I’ve already looked into it, Chloe. Besides him, you haven’t been in close contact with any other man recently. The timing fits perfectly. What else am I supposed to think?” Jason’s expression was unreadable, but the trembling of his fingertips betrayed his inner turmoil. “I’ve… I’ve known you longer than he has.” I scratched my head. This whole situation was too bizarre to explain. How could I tell him I was from five years in the future? Then, his words sparked an idea. “But in the past three months, the only other guy I’ve been in close contact with, besides your brother, is you.” Jason looked down, his lips pressed into a thin line. “Chloe, my memory is perfectly fine.” “You don’t remember because you weren’t in your right mind when it happened! Remember two months ago? I snuck out to that bar, lost a drinking game, and you suddenly showed up and took the penalty shot for me? And you only realized after you drank it that the drink was spiked.” I had to rack my brain to remember that old story. At the time, I’d been so grateful to him. I took him to the hospital, stayed by his side, and eventually fell asleep by his bed. I remember thinking that maybe this was our chance to finally call a truce. But then he woke up, yelled at me, and told my parents. He was so harsh, and I was so hurt. It wasn’t my fault; how could I have known those guys had bad intentions? I’d finally snapped. “Jason, who do you think you are? You have no right to tell me what to do! Even if something had happened, it would have been none of your business!” He’d just stared at me, his face pale, his lips pressed together. After that, things between us got even worse. Seeing the flicker of recognition in his eyes, I pressed on. “That night, you were completely out of it, and I’d had a few drinks myself… and well, one thing led to another, and we slept together.” The range of emotions that crossed Jason’s face was truly spectacular. “So, you’re saying…” I puffed out my chest and lifted my chin. “That’s right, Jason. I took advantage of you!”

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The raid was meant to be simple: destroy the nest, extract the team. Mission accomplished. Until I found the ledger in the ruins—names that could burn the entire syndicate and its protectors to ashes. But when I stumbled back, evidence in hand, I wasn’t met with backup. Just my captain’s gun. Lucas Thorne. The bullet tore through my chest as he shouted into his radio: “Ethan’s turned! Hostile!” Executed by my own team. Body burned. Name branded a traitor. Vandals smashed my mother’s windows. My father collapsed from shock, left paralyzed. Claire, my wife, took my death benefits and married Lucas. Even let my daughter call him Dad. Three years later, construction crews dug up a charred skeleton from the frozen earth. And inside it—a bullet hole stuffed with a fireproof memory card. Lucas. Claire. Hell is cold. And I’m not going alone. … At the border monument construction site, the roar of the excavator died abruptly. Cradled in the steel bucket was a blackened skeleton, curled into itself, horrifying wisps of tissue still clinging to the bone. I’d been trapped here for three long years. “What the hell… is that a person?” a young officer, Ben Carter, stammered, shrinking back. The veteran detective, Miller, spat his cigarette onto the ground, his eyes as cold as the wind. “Who else could it be? The traitor, Ethan Hayes.” He sneered. “Tried to kill his own guys to protect a shipment of scum. Dying on the border was too good for him.” My soul hovered in the frigid air, my spectral nails digging into palms that were no longer there. A traitor? Me? Ethan Hayes, who had bled for this department, for this country? How did I become a traitor? My gaze drifted through the small crowd and landed on two familiar figures. Claire wore a tailored uniform, her expression severe and professional. At her side was Lucas, now the Captain of the Narcotics Division. He was gently straightening the collar of her coat. The captain I trusted with my life, the man I respected above all others, was now my wife’s new husband. And he was the one who had pulled the trigger three years ago. “Captain Thorne, Head Supervisor,” Ben asked hesitantly, “what should we do with… the remains?” Claire’s eyes swept over me. Her fingers tightened for a fraction of a second, but her composure returned just as quickly. “Treat it as a John Doe. Call the morgue, have it cremated tomorrow.” “Wait.” Lucas stepped forward, his eyes locked on my chest cavity. “What’s that in there?” He reached out, trying to pry at the object, but my charred hand bones were fused over my chest, shielding it. He couldn’t break them apart. “Forget it,” Lucas said, pulling his hand back. His face was a shade paler than before. “It’s nothing. Just a piece of rotten cloth. Get rid of it, quickly. We can’t let this delay the monument’s construction.” Claire said nothing, only casting one last, lingering glance at the skeleton before turning to leave with Lucas. My spirit followed them, drifting through the walls of the house that was once my home. A wedding photo of Lucas and Claire hung on the wall of what used to be my living room. In the picture, Claire was holding a little girl, her smile radiant. The girl… she had my eyes. “Daddy, where do people go when they die?” my daughter, Lily, asked, tugging on Lucas’s sleeve. Lucas knelt, stroking her hair. “Good people who do good things all their lives go to Heaven, with the angels.” “What about the bad people?” “The bad people, of course, they go…” Lucas trailed off, his expression souring as if a dark memory had surfaced. Claire walked over with a bowl of fruit, her gaze flickering. “Don’t talk to her about things like that. Lily, honey, go do your homework.” Once Lily was gone, Lucas wrapped an arm around Claire’s waist, his voice low and soothing. “Stop thinking about it. He was a traitor. Are you still not over him after all these years?” He tightened his grip. “If you hadn’t stood up back then and testified that Ethan was colluding with the traffickers, I’d never have made Captain. And that death benefit of his? It was just enough for the down payment on this house.” He let out a low chuckle. “In a way, I should really be thanking him.” I stared at him, my spectral form trembling with a rage that had no outlet. I wanted to rip the words from his throat. My death benefit? The money I had earned with my life was now paying for their happy home? I looked at Claire. The smile was gone from her face, but she didn’t argue. She didn’t even flinch. She simply leaned into Lucas’s embrace. “Don’t talk about it. It’s all in the past. Let’s just focus on our life together.” “What? You still can’t let him go?” Lucas’s voice was laced with irritation. Claire gently placed a hand over his mouth and hugged him closer. “I’m so happy now. I’m so lucky to have you.” I floated in place, watching them hold each other, the hatred in my chest a churning magma that threatened to incinerate my very soul. Suddenly, Claire looked up. “Lucas, let’s go to the courthouse tomorrow.” Lucas paused. “Let’s have Ethan’s name removed from the records. Add yours.” “From now on, it’ll be you, me, and Lily. A real family.” Her voice was soft, but each word was a dagger twisting in my heart. A flash of surprise, then triumph, lit up Lucas’s eyes. He pulled her into a tight embrace. “Claire, are you sure?” Claire rested her head on his shoulder, her tone serene. “I’m sure.” “The dead are dead. We have to look forward. Happiness belongs to the living. To our future.” “And Lily needs a good father. I want her to grow up healthy and happy.” Lucas bent his head and kissed the top of her hair. “Then we’ll do it first thing in the morning.” “From tomorrow on, there will be no Ethan Hayes. Just us and Lily.” My soul shuddered violently, nearly tearing free from its ethereal bonds. Eight years ago, on a sweltering summer day, I held the deed to this house and knelt on one knee in this very living room, holding a ring up to Claire. “Claire, marry me. This will be our home. I’ll protect you with my life.” Later, when our daughter Lily was born, the list of people I would die for grew by one. Claire used to say, “Ethan, I don’t want anything, except for you to come home safe.” But now, she was the one erasing every last trace of my existence from this home. My gaze fell on Lucas’s face, and a sick feeling churned in my gut. He was the captain I trusted, the brother I confided in. During a raid three years ago, a trafficker tossed a grenade at our feet. Without a second thought, I tackled Lucas to the ground, shielding him with my body. Shrapnel tore through my arm, leaving a scar that went down to the bone. “Ethan! Are you insane?” Lucas had shouted, holding me, his voice trembling. “Aren’t you afraid of dying!?” “Of course I am,” I’d grinned through the pain. “But you’re my captain. I couldn’t let you die.” After that, every time I showered, Claire would see the scar and gently blow on it. “Don’t be so reckless next time. You make me worry.” “It’s fine. It was for the Captain. It’s just a scratch.” Back then, at every department cookout, Lucas would clap me on the shoulder and declare, “Ethan, you saved my life. From now on, your problems are my problems!” And I believed him. I treated him like a brother, sharing everything with him. I even told him I was going to propose to Claire before I told anyone else. But what did he do? He started showing up at my house more and more often. Bringing Claire her favorite pastries, giving her expensive makeup, fixing broken furniture. He even offered to “look after” Claire for me when I was on assignment. Claire mentioned it more than once. “Ethan, Lucas is being… a little too attentive. It makes me uncomfortable.” But I always defended him. “He’s just grateful. He’s treating you like a sister-in-law, that’s all. Don’t overthink it.” “We’re brothers. He would never do anything to betray me.” Claire would frown. “But…” Eventually, she stopped voicing her doubts. It wasn’t until Claire became pregnant with Lily that Lucas finally started keeping his distance. At the time, I was naively grateful. I never imagined he was playing the long game. All that so-called “concern,” every word, every gesture—it was all designed to drive a wedge between me and Claire, to pave the way for him to steal my life. The cuckoo in my nest. And I, the damn fool, had mistaken a wolf for a brother and nearly pushed my own wife into his arms. You played your part perfectly, Lucas. The person I trusted most fired the bullet that killed me. My memory snapped back to that border raid three years ago. Three hours before the operation, a few silent villagers had gathered at the edge of our temporary command post. “Officer, please, you have to investigate!” an old woman pleaded, clutching my sleeve with a trembling, withered hand. “My son… the traffickers forced him to run one shipment for them, and then they killed him to silence him!” “They told everyone he did it willingly, but they dragged him from our house at gunpoint!” “Those men have protection,” a middle-aged man whispered, his eyes wide with terror. “The last person who reported them was accused of slander, and the police beat him for it!” I looked over at the village chief, who was in a hushed conversation with a few men in sharp suits. One of them wore a gold watch that was worth more than my car. He looked important. Noticing my stare, the chief hurried over. “Oh, Officer, please don’t listen to their nonsense,” he said with a sycophantic grin. “That woman’s boy was never right in the head. They’re just spinning wild tales. Protection? Here? Ridiculous.” “Is that so?” I watched him coolly. “Then how is it that reports of trafficking in your village never reached our department? Who buried them?” The chief’s face paled. Just then, Lucas walked over, cutting me off. “Ethan, don’t get bogged down in this. The villagers’ information is all over the place, none of it admissible.” “But the details they’re describing match the intel we have,” I countered, frowning. I turned back to the chief. “Who was that man you were just talking to?” Lucas’s expression flickered. He quickly changed the subject. “Just a local informant. Don’t worry about it. The mission is the priority. Let’s not get sidetracked.” I stared into his eyes, and for the first time, I felt like there was something hidden behind the gaze of my trusted brother, something I couldn’t understand. Looking at the villagers’ desperate faces, I made a silent vow: If I get the chance, I will find the proof. I will get justice for these people. Three hours later, the signal was given. The drug den was destroyed in a fiery explosion. The team began a systematic withdrawal. I was at the rear of the formation when a flash of white in the smoldering debris caught my eye. A blood-stained file folder, half-buried under the rubble. A quick glance confirmed it. It was the list. The ledger of protectors. “Captain, I’ve got critical evidence!” I yelled into the radio. But the moment I burst from the ruins, clutching the file, I was met by the cold, black muzzle of a gun. It was Lucas.

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At dinner, my husband Julian suddenly spoke up. “Don’t you think,” he began, his fork hovering over his plate, “that our new housekeeper is in a rather tragic situation?” I looked up from my meal. “What do you mean?” He frowned slightly, a troubled look in his eyes. “You haven’t noticed? She’s a single mother with five sons. Her father’s a gambling addict, and her mother has cancer.” My eyes drifted to Phoebe, who was currently bent over, mopping the floor in a short maid’s uniform and black stockings. Before I could respond, Julian cleared his throat. “I was thinking of giving her a raise. Say, twenty thousand a month.” He continued, gaining momentum, “And a three-month bonus at the end of the year. A four-day work week, premium health and dental for her entire family, plus a 401(k).” He laid it all out in a single breath, then looked at me with grave importance. “That way, she can support her family and focus on her work here without any distractions.” I set down my fork and dabbed my lips with a napkin, my movements slow and deliberate. “Let’s just fire her,” I said coolly. “Anyone overhearing you might think you’re setting up a kept woman. Don’t you think?” 1 “I most certainly do not!” His composure finally snapped. “Eleanor, what is with the snide remarks?” “As a woman,” he pressed on, his voice rising, “can’t you find an ounce of empathy for what Phoebe is going through?” I looked at Julian, a genuine laugh almost escaping me. “You’re the Director of my brother’s hospital, managing a staff of thousands. What’s your monthly salary? Does it even compare to the package you just proposed for her?” He faltered, then tried to pivot. “I’m talking about basic human compassion, Eleanor. Do you have any at all?” I shook my head without hesitation. “I’m not a saint.” As the future head of the Vance family corporation, compassion was a luxury I couldn’t afford. “Either she goes, or we get a divorce. Your choice.” I had laid it on the line. He had to understand I was giving him a chance to clean up his own mess. If I had to step in, he would lose everything. But instead, he slammed his hand on the table. “You want a divorce just because I want to give our housekeeper a raise?” he roared. “Is it because you paid for my medical degree and got me the job at your brother’s hospital? Am I destined to be beneath you for the rest of my life? As your husband, don’t I even have the right to decide a housekeeper’s salary?” Julian was always the picture of calm. Even when a distraught patient held a scalpel to his back, he hadn’t lost his cool. I stared at him. “So you choose her. Is that it?” His lips tightened into a thin line as he glared at me. Just then, Phoebe scurried over, her head bowed. “Ma’am,” she whispered, “I think… I think you’ve misunderstood things between me and Julian.” She called my husband by his first name. “Julian.” “He’s so successful and handsome, like a movie star. Just being associated with him feels like I’m tainting his reputation. I’m a divorced mother of five. No man would ever want me. What could they possibly see in me?” Her low-cut uniform showcased her generous cleavage, and the black stockings hugged her long, slender legs. I thought of the out-of-place pillow in Julian’s study. The anime maid printed on it was a dead ringer for Phoebe. And his phone wallpaper, the one he’d had for years… it was an animated version of her, wasn’t it? A cold smile touched my lips. I looked at Julian. “Phoebe’s asking what you see in her,” I said. “Let me guess. Is it her great figure and pretty face? Or maybe this whole pathetic, damsel-in-distress act?” I paused, letting the silence hang in the air. “Or is it the five sons? You’ve always wanted a son, haven’t you? Can’t have one of your own, so you figured you’d try playing daddy without any of the hard work?” “Eleanor!” Julian shot a panicked glance at Phoebe before rushing over to cover my mouth, his fingers digging into my cheeks. “I have azoospermia,” he hissed. “Do you have to broadcast it to the entire world?” I shoved him away, my laugh sharp with irony. “What are you afraid of? That Phoebe will find out and be disgusted by you?” He averted his eyes. “It’s a private matter between a husband and wife. It’s not appropriate to discuss it.” “Besides,” he added quickly, “didn’t you arrange for that top specialist to fly in for me? I’m sure it can be fixed. We’ll have our own children. Why would I need someone else’s?” As if on cue, Phoebe spoke up, her voice a mask of innocence. “Well… all my friends say I’m just incredibly fertile. I don’t really know what they mean by it.” “But I have five sons—one set of twins and one set of triplets. Even I think it’s pretty amazing.” A faint blush colored her cheeks. “I always think that… with me… even if a husband had… issues… he could probably still have a baby.” A flash of something—hope? excitement?—lit up Julian’s eyes before he suppressed it. He stiffly put an arm around my waist, creating a deliberate distance between himself and Phoebe. “Phoebe, don’t say things like that again,” he said sternly. “Even without children, Eleanor is the only wife I will ever have.” The way he said it… it sounded like I was the one who was barren. As if with Phoebe, he would have no problem at all. A wave of nausea washed over me. Just two weeks ago, I had flown halfway across the world to consult with that specialist for him. And while I was gone, he had secretly moved Phoebe into our home. When I’d returned, she was serving burnt, inedible dishes for dinner. Julian, normally so picky about his food, had devoured three bowls of rice. The vintage sapphire earrings he’d won at auction—the ones I thought were for my birthday—were now dangling from Phoebe’s ears. And every night, he would wait until I was asleep before coming to bed, as if he couldn’t bear for me to touch him. I took a deep breath and pointed at Phoebe. “Julian, I’m asking you one last time. Are you sure you want to keep her here?” He pushed me away, his patience gone. “Are we still on this? I already told you my position! Why do you have to keep making baseless accusations and causing drama? Do you enjoy grinding my dignity into the dirt?” The push sent me stumbling back against the staircase railing. A sharp pain shot through my lower back, and I gasped, unable to straighten up. Julian rolled his eyes and came over to pull me up. “Oh, stop it. Don’t play the victim. The fragile damsel act doesn’t suit you. You didn’t earn your ‘tough girl’ reputation for nothing.” In college, he was walking me back to my dorm when a heavy ceramic planter fell from a window ledge above. Without thinking, I shoved him out of the way, taking the full impact on my head. I’d laughed and told him I was fine. I ended up with five stitches and a new nickname. Now, he used it as an insult. I flinched away from his hand. “Don’t touch me. You’re filthy.” His face hardened, his hands balling into fists. “You’re just determined to be impossible today, aren’t you?” “I’ve said what I needed to say. It’s her or me.” With that, I turned and walked upstairs. Julian started to follow, but Phoebe let out a small, choked sob. “I get it. No one’s ever liked me. Everyone says I’m slow and stupid. They all look down on me.” Her voice was a pathetic whimper. “That’s why my ex-husband left me to raise five boys all by myself. My dad hits me when he loses at poker, and my sick mom calls me worthless when she’s in a bad mood. Even my own children say I’m useless.” “And now… now even the ma’am hates me. You and her are fighting, getting a divorce, all because of me. Maybe I should just die.” She turned and made a show of running towards the wall. Julian lunged, grabbing her just in time. The pity in his eyes was so thick it was practically dripping. “Phoebe, don’t. I’ve never looked down on you.” “You’re not slow,” he soothed. “You’re… you’re adorable.” Phoebe’s tears magically vanished, replaced by a tentative smile. “Really?” Julian reached out and stroked her hair, raising his voice so I could hear him from the top of the stairs. “Of course. Not like some people, who walk around with a permanent scowl, all business and no warmth. There’s nothing feminine about them. Who could ever love someone like that?” Phoebe let out a little giggle and shot a glance in my direction. “Julian, that sounds a little bit like the ma’am.” “The first time I met her, she was in a pantsuit with her hair pulled back so tight… I almost called her ‘sir’.” Julian laughed along with her. “Here’s a little secret,” he whispered conspiratorially. “The staff at the hospital call her ‘The Warden’ behind her back.” My feet froze on the stairs. My heart hammered against my ribs, threatening to break free. I snatched a vase from a nearby table and hurled it down at them. “Julian, get your whore out of my house!” “Ah!” Phoebe shrieked. Julian instantly threw himself in front of her, shielding her with his body. The vase shattered against his back. His first instinct, however, was to steady Phoebe, making sure she didn’t fall. “Eleanor! Why don’t you just kill me and get it over with!” he spun around, his eyes red-rimmed and furious. “I have no family connections, no background, and I can’t even give you a child! So go ahead, hit me, scream at me, belittle me all you want! I don’t care! But leave innocent people out of it!” “Phoebe is the kindest, most genuine woman I have ever met! She’s only working as a housekeeper to support her family. She has a bachelor’s degree, for God’s sake! She could have a much better job!” He grew more agitated with every word, his voice turning to ice. “In my eyes, a useless, silver-spoon princess like you isn’t fit to touch the hem of her garment!” Every word was a knife, every sentence drew blood. He had no family, no background, and he was sterile. I had defied my parents, ignored all the warnings, and married him anyway. The price was that within two years, I had to double the family company’s profits. For those two years, I never had a full night’s sleep. I worked myself to the bone, living and breathing the business. I became the man he never was. And I did it. I succeeded. And now he was telling me I looked down on him. That I was useless. That I was a joke he and his mistress could laugh about together. Something inside me snapped. I stormed into his study and slashed the anime maid pillow to ribbons. I grabbed everything within reach—picture frames, potted plants, the desk lamp—and threw them at them. He shielded Phoebe, easily dodging the projectiles. “Eleanor, I am sick of living like a guest in the Vance family’s shadow! I am a capable man! I am the youngest hospital director in this country!” he yelled. “Did you really think I needed to grovel for a job at your brother’s hospital? Let me tell you, I’ve had offers from top institutions begging me to join them!” “If you keep acting like a lunatic, then fine! Let’s get a divorce! You’ll be the one who regrets it!” I gripped the railing, my knuckles white, steadying myself. “Fine by me!” Phoebe trembled in his arms. “Julian, couples fight. The ma’am has a difficult personality, but if you just put up with it, it will pass.” “Being a divorced woman is hard,” she whimpered. “People look down on you… like they do with me.” Julian scoffed, not even bothering to look at me. “I don’t care what happens to her. She brought this on herself. Not every woman deserves to be cherished.” A profound, soul-crushing exhaustion washed over me. I let go of the railing and silently continued up the stairs. Julian stared after me, as if he hadn’t expected me to just walk away. A flicker of uncertainty crossed his face, and he opened his mouth to call out to me. But then Phoebe’s phone rang. “What? Noah has a fever?” “Okay, okay, I’m on my way to the hospital right now.” She hung up, her eyes wide with panic. “Julian, Noah has a 104-degree fever. What do I do?” The color drained from Julian’s face. “Noah? But he was fine at the amusement park yesterday.” “I’ll go with you,” he said without a second thought. I listened as the front door slammed shut behind them. My legs finally gave out, and I crumpled to the floor. His relationship with Phoebe had progressed to taking her children to amusement parks? Or was it possible… that one of those children was also his? The thought was a venomous bite. I dug my teeth into my lower lip until I tasted blood and dialed my brother’s number. “Marcus, I need you to run a background check. On Julian and a woman named Phoebe Lane.” “A check? What for? Is he cheating on you?” “I think he might have an illegitimate child.” My brother gasped. “Are you sure? I thought he couldn’t…” All the strength drained out of me, and my throat felt tight. “Phoebe says she’s… incredibly fertile.” Even as I said the words, they sounded ridiculous. A claim with no scientific basis, yet it settled in my stomach like a lead weight. “Marcus,” I continued, my voice flat, “the hospital director position is up for review every five years. It’s time for Julian to step down.” “The hospital has been losing money for years under his leadership. That performance clause in his contract… is the penalty high enough to bankrupt him?” There was a pause on the other end. “Ellie,” Marcus asked gently, “are you okay?” No. I was not okay. My heart felt like it was being slowly flayed. But I could not tolerate even a hint of impurity in my love. If I found it, I would grind it to dust. “Marcus, find me the best divorce lawyer you know. I want Julian to walk away with nothing. I know it’ll be difficult.” In our world, prenups were standard. But I hadn’t made Julian sign one. I had believed he wasn’t with me for the money. I had believed he would never betray me. How naive I’d been. After I’d made the calls, a message from Julian appeared on my phone. Eleanor, everything I said earlier… I was just angry. Please don’t take it to heart. Noah has pneumonia. I have to stay at the hospital with him tonight. I really want to come home, but he’s only four and he won’t let go of my hand. I just can’t bring myself to leave him. I typed back a swift reply. I don’t care. Pack your things tomorrow. I want you out of my house. A single, large question mark appeared in response. Eleanor, are you really going to push me to this? Are you trying to shove me into another woman’s arms? Fine. You win. I paused, then typed one last message. On our wedding day, I told you that if you ever betrayed me, you would lose everything. Do you remember? It was at our wedding. He had gently lifted my veil, his eyes shining like a whole galaxy of stars, and promised me, “There will be no betrayal. Not until the day I die.” And now? A cold, red exclamation point appeared on the screen. He had blocked me.

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I’m a cat. A tuxedo cat, to be precise. And a damn feisty one. So when a sudden slap jolted me awake, I shot up, ready to shred whichever suicidal human dared to disturb my slumber. But then— Where were my claws? My fur? My magnificent, fluffy tail?! 1 “What the hell…” The voice that escaped my lips was human. A guy with wide, panicked eyes stared at me. “Who are you? What are you doing in my bed?” I was even more shocked than he was. Because I, a cat, had fucking turned into a human. His gaze drifted downward, and his face instantly turned crimson. “Holy shit, you’re a pervert.” He scrambled to his closet, yanking out a few pieces of clothing and flinging them at my face. “Put these on, for fuck’s sake!” I glanced down at my own bare, smooth body. Hmph. So I’d lost my fur. Big deal. “I’m not wearing that,” I said, tossing the clothes right back at him. “Only sissy tomcats wear clothes.” The guy’s—Liam’s—face flushed a deeper red. “Dude, stop with the drunken act, I’m begging you.” “Drunken? I’m perfectly sober, you moron.” “I’ll count to three. You’re getting dressed. One… two—” “No!” I snapped, then my voice faltered. “I… I don’t know how.” “…What?” I puffed out my chest. “Unless you help me.” Liam took a deep breath, shaking a T-shirt open and trying to pull it over my head. “Arms up. No, those are your legs!” I thrashed wildly. “Murder! He’s trying to murder me!” “Hold still,” he growled through clenched teeth, hooking an arm around my neck to force the shirt on. My leg shot out in a powerful kick. He gasped, clutching his crotch as he doubled over, and I seized the opportunity to break free. But a second later, with a vein throbbing on his forehead, Liam lunged at me, a pair of boxers in hand. “I swear to God, today I’m gonna—” The door suddenly swung open. “Hey, Liam, the RA downstai—” Three guys stood frozen in the doorway, their words dying in their throats. The scene they walked in on: Liam, kneeling on the bed, brandishing a pair of patterned boxers, pinning down a disheveled me. Well, the human version of me. I was biting his wrist, my T-shirt hiked up to my chest, two pale legs kicking wildly in the air. “Our bad,” the guy in glasses said, and slammed the door shut with a loud BANG. Liam froze. I shoved him off me hard. I tried to scramble down the bunk bed ladder, but my footing slipped, and I tumbled headfirst to the floor. “Hiss…” The pain made me want to lick my fur, but my tongue was too damn short to reach anything. “Useless human body.” Liam leaped off the bed and clamped a hand over my mouth, his face pale as a ghost. He yelled at the door, “It’s not what it looks like! This is my cousin! He’s wasted!” A chorus of snickers came from the hallway. “Nice try, dude. Your cousin bites your wrist? You guys are into some kinky shit.” “Get lost!” Liam grabbed a slipper and hurled it at the door before turning back to me, his voice a harsh whisper. “I don’t care if you’re a man or a demon, right now, you pretend to be drunk.” I rolled my eyes. “But I haven’t been drink—” Liam leaned in close, his warm breath ghosting over my ear. “Play along. Or I’ll hand you over to the biology department for experiments.” …You despicable human. 2 The moment the door opened again, I channeled the feeling of hacking up a furball and let out a dramatic, dry heave before collapsing limply into Liam’s arms. “See? He’s completely smashed,” Liam said, patting my back a little too hard. “I was just getting him into some clean clothes.” “Then why was he biting you?” one of them asked. “He…” Thinking fast, I threw my arms around Liam’s neck. “Bro! The ants… the ants are biting me!” It was true, too. A bunch of ants had bitten my balls just last week. Liam went with it, wrapping an arm around my waist. “See? He’s hallucinating.” His hand felt… nice. I instinctively rubbed my cheek against his chest. Wait, what was I doing? Where was my feline dignity?! I instantly recoiled, forgetting the clumsiness of my new body and slamming backward into the wardrobe with a loud thud. Someone choked back a laugh. “Liam, your cousin’s pretty… lively.” “Tsk. Seen enough? I need to get him changed.” “Okaaay, changing,” they chorused, backing out of the room with knowing grins. The last one even closed the door gently for us. Liam wiped a hand over his face. “What the hell are you?” I rubbed my bruised head. “A cat.” “…What?” “A tuxedo cat. Male,” I clarified. “You were flicking my balls this afternoon.” “Oreo?!” he shrieked, then reached out and pinched my cheek. “Are you trying to die?!” I snapped my jaws at him. “It’s really you…” Liam stared, dumbfounded, at the teeth marks on his hand. “This isn’t a dream…” The next second, he grabbed my shoulders. “Listen, I don’t care if you’re Oreo or some other cookie, you are going to learn how to wear clothes right now.” He shook the patterned boxers at me. “Lift your leg.” “No!” I stumbled back. “That thing will squish my butt!” “Fine, go naked then. Don’t blame me when they drag you off to a lab to be dissected.” My courage vanished. “Fine, I’ll wear it.” I don’t know how long we struggled, but by the time Liam had forced the last piece of clothing on me, I was exhausted and drowsy. “What kind of anti-cat design is this…?” Liam sighed, a sound of pure defeat. “I can’t believe I’m teaching a cat how to get dressed.” “Teaching? Does that mean you’ll be responsible for me from now on?” “What kind of logic is that?! I’m kicking you out of this dorm the second I can. Go wherever you want.” My eyes narrowed. I gracefully climbed back onto his bed. “I like it here.” “Get down!” “Nope.” I wrapped myself tightly in his duvet. “Or I’ll tell the whole campus you abuse cats.” “You’re a person now, you idiot!” “But my soul is a cat’s.” Suddenly, the booming voice of the dorm supervisor echoed from the hallway. “Liam! I hear you have an unauthorized guest staying overnight!” We both froze. In a blur of motion, he yanked me off the bed and shoved me into the wardrobe. “If you make a single sound, you’re dead.” 3 He argued with the supervisor for what felt like an eternity. Long enough for me to start dozing off before her voice finally faded away. I peeked out from the pile of clothes and saw him slumped in his chair, looking like he’d just survived a natural disaster. Tch. Coward. It was dark in the wardrobe, filled with stacks of Liam’s clothes. They were soft and smelled like him. I couldn’t resist burying my face in a wool sweater. Damn, this felt amazing. Even better than that velvet cushion on the balcony of the girls’ dorm. “Hey. Get out.” Liam pulled the wardrobe door open. “Are you planning on having your kittens in there?” I clutched his clothes defensively. “I’m a tomcat, you moron! I can’t have kittens!” “Then get out.” “No~” I burrowed deeper into the corner. “It’s dark and soft in here. The perfect cat nest.” Liam looked like he’d just swallowed something foul. He reached in to pull me out, and I immediately flashed my nails. “Touch me again and I’ll bite you!” “Fine. You win.” Liam sneered and pulled out his phone. “I’m calling the biology lab right now. I’ve got a cat that’s turned into a spirit.” With a yowl, I shot out of the wardrobe and launched myself at him, clamping my hands over his mouth. “Shut up! Don’t you dare!” The impact sent him staggering back two steps. His back hit the desk with a loud thump, and he winced in pain. We were tangled up, wrestling, when the dorm room door opened again. “Hey, Liam, is your cous—” The air froze solid. The guy with glasses stood in the doorway, his eyes wide and vacant. Liam: “…” Me: “…” Glasses guy: “…My bad.” The door was slammed shut. Again. Liam’s face was thunderous. He jabbed a finger at my nose, his voice a low growl. “From now on, you are my cousin, visiting from back home for a few days. Got it?” As the smartest cat on campus, I certainly understood the principle of “know when to fold ’em.” So I smiled sweetly and rubbed my cheek against his chin. “Got it, bro~” 4 In the end, Liam let me sleep in his bed. I curled into a ball, instinctively seeking out the warmest spot. Which happened to be Liam. “D-don’t get so close…” Liam’s whole body went rigid. “What’s wrong?” I mumbled, draping a leg over his waist. “This is how we cats sleep.” His breathing hitched, growing noticeably heavier. “You’re a person now.” “So annoying,” I grumbled, and simply flopped on top of him, burying my head in the crook of his neck. “There. Is this better?” Liam: “…” I could feel his heart hammering against his ribs, and his skin felt feverishly hot. “Are you sick?” I reached up to feel his forehead. He snatched my wrist, his voice raspy. “…Go to sleep.” Tch. Humans are so complicated. But… he was pretty warm. 5 The next morning, they all left for class, leaving me—the cat—alone in the dorm. Ha. As if these foolish humans could cage me. I slipped out onto the balcony and shimmied down the drainpipe with ease. I nearly twisted an ankle on the landing, though. Damn, this human body had terrible balance. I swaggered across the campus grounds and spotted that stupid calico cat crouching by the flowerbeds. The one who was always trying to claim my territory. “Hey! You want to go a round today?” I called out. “I’ll even give you a three-move head start!” The calico glanced up at me, flicked its tail, and turned its back, walking away. ??? “Hey, get back here!” I chased after it. “What’s with the silent treatment? You pretending you don’t know me?” The calico’s fur bristled. It hissed at me, its expression one of pure terror, before scrambling up the nearest tree. I stood at the base of the tree, hopping in frustration. “Coward! Get down here and fight me one-on-one!” It stared down at me, its gaze the kind you give a total moron. …No way. It really didn’t recognize me? A sudden tightness squeezed my chest. I picked up a small rock to throw at it, but then, for some reason, I just let it drop. 6 When Liam got back, I was sprawled on his bed, stewing in a foul mood. “Here. Got you some food.” He tossed a plastic container onto the bed. I lifted the lid and sniffed. Just as I was about to dig in, the image of the calico’s dismissive stare flashed in my mind. Suddenly, even the fish didn’t seem so appetizing. “Not hungry?” Liam raised an eyebrow. “I can give it to Mike.” “It’s mine!” I snatched the container back and began shoveling food into my mouth furiously. Liam sat down on the edge of the bed. “What’s wrong?” “I saw that stupid calico today…” I slammed my chopsticks down, ready to vent, but Liam clamped a hand over my mouth. He glanced toward the other side of the room. Oh, right. The other roommates were here. “Tell me later,” he whispered. I rolled my eyes and went back to my food. So annoying. As a human, you even had to watch what you said and where you said it. During the afternoon nap time, the dorm was finally quiet. Liam slipped through the curtain of his bunk and whispered, “Okay, you can talk now.” “That moron calico actually—!” My voice shot up in anger before Liam slapped his hand over my mouth again. “Keep it down! You want to wake everyone up?” Damn it. I couldn’t even be angry properly? Being human sucked. I lowered my voice to a seething whisper. “It pretended not to know me. I’ve been fighting that cat for two years! We just fought yesterday!” Liam blinked, then a snort of laughter escaped him. “What’s so funny?!” I punched his chest. “You humans will never understand!” “I get it, I get it…” he said, trying to stifle his laughter as he reached out and gently scratched the back of my neck. !!! The sensation was so familiar it made my scalp tingle. Back when I was a cat, the girls on campus loved to pet me just like this. I would always tilt my head back involuntarily and start to purr… “Hnnn…” A soft hum escaped my throat, the sound curling at the end. Liam’s hand froze. Mortified, I wanted to dig a hole and crawl into it. I decided to just go for broke and buried my face in his chest. “Keep going!” I could feel the rumble of his chest as he laughed, probably at me again. But his hand did start moving, stroking down my back, from my neck all the way to my waist. Damn… I couldn’t help but nuzzle against him, then I remembered myself. “You’re not allowed to tell anyone about this.” “Tell them what?” he asked, feigning innocence. “That someone starts purring like a kitten after a few pets?” “Liam, I’m going to claw your eyes out!” “Shhh…” He covered my mouth again. “They’re sleeping.” I bit his finger in protest, but the bastard just took the opportunity to give me a few more good strokes. Fine. His technique was pretty good. I, the great Oreo, would graciously let it slide this time. After a thorough petting session, my anger had mostly subsided. I turned my back to him and mumbled, “Being a human is alright, I guess. I get a bed and fish to eat. I don’t care about those stupid cats anyway.” Liam gently wrapped his arms around me, resting his chin on the top of my head. “Yeah. Being human is pretty good.” “Especially with a personal servant,” I added. “Hey!” “Shut up and keep petting.” “…Yes, my lord.” Hmph. That’s more like it. I snuggled a little deeper into his arms. 7 A few weeks passed like this, and I had grown quite accustomed to human life. Liam dutifully served me every day. As my personal servant, he was… adequate. But the idiot had been acting strange lately. He hadn’t petted me in three days. Not only that, but last night when I tried to snuggle into his arms like usual, he actually turned his back to me. And today, he didn’t even bring me lunch. “Where’s my food?” I blocked the doorway, glaring at him. Liam’s face was a cold mask as he sidestepped me. “Buy your own.” Buy my own??? I launched myself onto his back. “Say that again, I dare you!” Josh, one of his roommates, was watching with amusement. “Whoa, lovebirds having a tiff?” “Who’s a lovebird with him?!” Liam and I yelled in unison. Liam peeled me off his back, hissing, “Knock it off, the guys are here.” “Then get me lunch!” “Go yourself.” “I don’t know how to use the meal card!” “Learn.” I was so furious I could feel my fur wanting to stand on end. This idiot was definitely doing this on purpose. Fine. If Liam was going to be a jerk, then I, the great Oreo, would be a jerk right back. He could forget about being my exclusive servant! That afternoon, Mike was eating fried chicken in the dorm. I immediately sidled up to him. “Can I have a piece?” “Sure, man.” Mike grinned, holding out a drumstick. “Just call me ‘bro’ and it’s yours.” Hah. Childish human. “Broooo~” I cooed, deliberately rubbing against his arm. “Please~?” Mike’s face went from red to white as he shakily pushed the entire box of chicken towards me. In my peripheral vision, I saw the pen in Liam’s hand snap in two. Ha! Serves you right! That evening, when another roommate, Josh, came out of the shower, I pounced on him, sniffing his neck. “Did you get a new body wash? It smells so good.” Josh stiffened. “Uh? It’s… it’s just regular lemon scent…?” “I love lemon~” In reality, the smell was so strong it made me want to sneeze, but to piss off Liam, I endured. Suddenly, Liam slammed the door and stormed out. Heh. Victory.

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My fiancé left me for his childhood sweetheart at the altar. That night, I drank myself into oblivion. The next morning, I woke up in bed with his older brother. Flushed with shame, I scrambled into my clothes. “This was a mistake,” I stammered. “You don’t owe me anything.” But Eric stared at me, eyes red-rimmed. “Lily,” he whispered hoarsely, “what does he have that I don’t? Why won’t you look at me?” Something shifted in me. That day, we married at the courthouse. For five years, Eric treated me like a queen. Everyone said he’d loved me for ages, and I believed it. Until last night, at a party, I overheard him talking to a friend: “You funneled all your money to Ryan so Mia could have the life she wanted. You even married his ex to get her off their backs. If you love Mia that much, why not marry her yourself?” Eric laughed bitterly. “Mia loves Ryan more. I just want her happy. I’d do anything.” In that moment, my world froze. The love I thought we had was nothing but an elaborate, cruel lie. 1 I fled the hotel, a ghost in the glittering night. Back home, I sank onto the sofa, staring numbly at the worn leather notebook on the coffee table. Its pages were filled with my cramped handwriting, a meticulous record of every penny we spent, every bill we paid. From the day we married, Eric had been the perfect husband—attentive, caring, thoughtful. So when he told me, a year into our marriage, that his business had collapsed and he was broke, I didn’t hesitate. I didn’t feel an ounce of resentment. Instead, I worked harder than ever, determined to stand by him, to help him rebuild everything from the ashes. But now I knew. It wasn’t a tragedy we had endured together. It was a script he had written, and I was the unwitting star of his charade. A pair of arms wrapped around my waist from behind, and a familiar voice, still laced with that practiced tenderness, whispered in my ear. “Lily. What are you doing?” I took a deep breath, snapping the notebook shut. “Just going over the budget,” I said, my voice carefully neutral. A flicker of a frown crossed Eric’s face before it vanished, replaced by his usual look of weary affection. “You’re exhausting yourself,” he murmured, shaking his head. “I keep telling you, you don’t have to work so hard. What’s the point of having a husband if you do everything yourself?” His hand came up to cup my cheek, his eyes swimming with a counterfeit sympathy that was almost convincing. “You should get out more,” he continued softly. “See the world. Be more… free-spirited. Like Mia.” I used to melt when he said things like that, thinking he genuinely cared about my happiness. After all, before him, I was a woman who dreamed of passports filled with stamps and horizons without end. Now, his words were just acid in an open wound. This wasn’t concern. It was a comparison, and I was the one who came up short. He was telling me I wasn’t enough because I wasn’t her. He had no idea. He’d never seen the chaotic frenzy of the 5 AM fish market, never fought through the crowds for a supermarket sale. He had no concept of how the relentless grind of keeping a home, of stretching every dollar, had worn my dreams down to dust. The world he wanted me to see was a luxury I couldn’t afford, all because I was propping up the fantasy life he was funding for his brother and the woman he truly loved. I clenched my fists, forcing a placid expression onto my face. “Did you forget?” I asked, looking up at him. “Today is an important day.” Eric’s brow furrowed in concentration. He searched his memory for a long moment, and then a look of realization dawned on his face. My heart gave a pathetic little leap. He remembered. He remembered our anniversary. But in the next second, his gaze slid past me as he pulled out his phone. “Right, Mia and Ryan said they’d have time for a call today. I can’t believe I almost forgot…” He was already walking away as he spoke. Listening to his retreating footsteps, I felt the last embers of hope in my heart turn to cold, gray ash. The truth was, Eric’s love for Mia was never a secret. It was in the way his voice softened whenever he said her name, a current of emotion running just beneath the surface. My gaze drifted to the watch on his wrist, its metal slightly faded from years of wear. He’d told me once that Mia had given it to him. Back then, I’d convinced myself it was a sentimental gift from a girl he saw as a little sister. I was so naive, so stupidly in love, that I started secretly saving every spare dollar I could, dreaming of buying him a new, expensive watch—one that truly suited him. Only now did I understand what that old watch really symbolized. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I picked up the small, wrapped gift box from the table, intending to hide it away forever. Just then, Eric ended his call and walked back into the room. “What’s that you’re holding?” he asked, his eyes landing on the box. I instinctively shook my head, trying to tuck it behind my back. His frown returned, and this time, it was laced with impatience. He strode over and plucked the box from my hands before I could resist. He lifted the lid. Inside, nestled on a velvet cushion, was the new watch. “Why did you buy this?” he asked, a hint of confusion in his voice. I forced a brittle smile. “It’s our fifth anniversary. It was… it was your gift.” A flicker of guilt crossed his face. He leaned in and pressed a chaste, meaningless kiss to my forehead. “I’m sorry, I’ve been so busy, I forgot. It’s beautiful. I love it. Okay, let’s get some rest.” With that, he turned and walked into his bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind him. The moment the latch clicked, a sob tore from my throat, and the silent tears I’d been holding back finally began to fall. For the first time, the thought of divorce wasn’t just a fleeting shadow. It was a bright, searing light. But where would I go if I left him? Back to that broken-down apartment that smelled of stale beer and regret? Perhaps his conscience pricked him, because a few days later, Eric did something he’d never done before: he invited a few friends over for dinner. I had longed to be a part of his world, to meet the people he spent his days with, but he always had an excuse. It was a bitter irony that this wish was granted just as I was planning my escape. The house filled with laughter and chatter, a warmth that felt utterly foreign. Then, the doorbell rang. When the door opened and Mia stood on the threshold, the warmth evaporated, and the air in the room froze solid. Eric shot to his feet, a look of pure, unadulterated delight on his face. “Mia! You’re back in the country! You should have told me. Where’s Ryan? Did he let you come all this way by yourself?” Mia graced him with a practiced, perfect smile. “Ryan’s dropping our luggage off at the new place. He’ll be here in a bit.” Her eyes swept the room and landed on me. She glided over, holding out a chic, expensive-looking box. “Lily, it’s been too long. A little something for you two, to make up for not being at the wedding. They’re freshwater pearls, from Paris. You’ve probably never seen any like this.” I stood there, staring at the box in my hand, unable to speak. As Mia made her way to the dining table, Eric instinctively offered her the slice of mille-feuille cake he’d been holding. She took it, and in the same smooth motion, linked her arm through his, leaning against him playfully. “Eric, you remembered my favorite cake,” she cooed. “But you barely talk to me anymore now that you’re a married man. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten all about your little sister?” Eric gave a strained laugh, gently trying to disentangle himself. “Mia, you’re practically engaged yourself. We should probably keep some distance.” She either didn’t hear him or chose to ignore him, tightening her grip on his arm. Her eyes met mine across the room, glittering with triumph. “We grew up together, Eric. Is it so wrong to want to be close after all this time? Besides,” she added, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “once I marry Ryan, we’ll all be family anyway.” Eric froze. He managed a tight smile and patted her shoulder, but when his gaze met mine, he quickly dropped his hand. Sensing the shift in my mood, he quickly changed the subject. “Oh, Mia, weren’t you saying you needed a new bracelet? Lily has one that would be perfect for you. Let me get it.” Before I could process his words, he was unlocking a display cabinet and pulling out a delicate jade bangle. The moment I saw it, a primal scream rose in my throat. “Eric, no! That was my mother’s! It’s the only thing I have left of her!” His face hardened with annoyance. “Lily, don’t be dramatic,” he said, his voice laced with patronizing frustration. “You’ve never once mentioned it was your mother’s. If you like it so much, I’ll buy you another one. This one is for Mia.” Mia’s eyes lit up as she took the bracelet, turning it over and over in her hands, admiring the way the light caught the stone. My own eyes were glued to her fingers, praying she wouldn’t drop it. But when I looked up from the bracelet to her face, I saw it—a flash of smug, deliberate malice in her eyes. My stomach plummeted. A sickening premonition washed over me. And then, just as I feared, the bracelet slipped from her grasp. It hit the marble floor with a sickening crack, shattering into a dozen pieces. Mia’s hand remained suspended in the air, her face a perfect mask of innocent shock. But her eyes were dancing with victory. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Lily,” she said, her voice dripping with fake remorse. “It just slipped.” I lunged forward, falling to my knees, desperately trying to gather the fragments, to somehow piece my mother’s memory back together. But it was hopeless. It was utterly destroyed. My vision swam with red. I looked up at her, my voice shaking with rage. “You did that on purpose!” At my accusation, Mia’s face crumpled, and she looked as if she were about to burst into tears. Instantly, Eric was at her side, shielding her from me. “Lily, it’s just a bracelet,” he snapped. “Why are you making such a scene?” Just a bracelet? Yes, it was just a cheap piece of jade, bought from a jewelry store for a couple of hundred dollars. But it was the last thing my mother touched before she died. The only tangible piece of her I had left in the world. “I’m so sorry, Lily, I really didn’t mean to,” Mia gasped, and then her breath began to hitch. Her face went pale, and she clutched at her chest. Eric’s expression changed in a heartbeat. Panic contorted his features as he started frantically searching the living room. “The inhaler! Where’s her asthma medication?!” I remained on the floor, surrounded by the ruins of my past, and watched him. I watched the cool, composed man I married dissolve into a frantic mess at the first sign of Mia’s distress. He was completely undone by her. “I threw it out,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “Neither of us has asthma. It was just taking up space.” Eric stared at me, his face a mask of disbelief. For the first time, I noticed his eyes were rimmed with red again, but this time it wasn’t from sorrow. It was from pure rage. “You know she has asthma!” he roared. “Are you trying to kill her?” He swept her up into his arms. As he did, he fumbled with the top button of her blouse, trying to give her more air. My gaze froze. Around her neck, gleaming against her pale skin, was a small, intricately carved good-luck charm. It was identical to the one I had given Eric. As he turned to leave, I shot to my feet and grabbed his sleeve. “Wait,” I demanded, my voice dangerously low. “That charm around her neck. Is that the one I gave you?” Guilt flickered in his eyes, but his tone was harsh and defensive. “She was in an accident a while back. I was worried about her, so I gave it to her for protection. You’re her sister-in-law, after all. I assumed you’d be fine with it.” I laughed. A hollow, broken sound. He assumed. What right did he have to assume anything? What right did he have to give away a piece of my soul? I had climbed the three thousand steps to the shrine on Mount Crestwood for that charm, my forehead raw and bleeding from bowing in prayer at every single step, all for his safety. And in his eyes, all of my devotion, all of my pain, weighed less than a single whim from Mia. “Why would her asthma flare up so suddenly?” Eric muttered, his eyes darting frantically around the room. They landed on a bouquet of lilies on the dining table. His face turned to stone. His jaw clenched. “I told you, no flowers in this house. Ever,” he snarled, his voice a low growl. “You bought those, didn’t you, Lily?” I lifted my chin, meeting his furious gaze without flinching. “This is my home. I’ll put whatever I want in—” CRACK. The word was slapped from my mouth. My head snapped to the side, my cheek stinging with a fiery, humiliating pain. The entire room fell silent. The guests stared, wide-eyed, frozen in place. Eric was shaking, a vein throbbing in his neck. He looked like a stranger, his eyes blazing with a fury I had never seen. But as a single tear escaped my eye and traced a path through the red mark on my cheek, he seemed to falter. The rage in his eyes flickered, replaced by something else. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, his voice thick. “I was just… worried. I’m taking Mia to the hospital. We’ll talk when I get back.” Without another word, he turned and rushed out of the house, carrying her with him. One by one, the guests made their excuses and fled, leaving me alone in the wreckage. A sharp sting in my hand brought me back to the present. I looked down and saw that a shard from the broken bracelet had sliced my finger open. After bandaging the cut, I made a call to my lawyer and asked her to draw up divorce papers. Then I went to my bedroom and quietly packed a single suitcase with everything that was mine. Eric, this game is over. It’s time to bring down the curtain. I signed the divorce papers with a steady hand. I slipped my wedding ring from my finger and placed it on the dining table, next to the papers and a short farewell letter. I sent Eric one last text message, then blocked his number. The papers are on the table. Read them. I’m getting out of the way for you and Mia.

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For seven years, I was married to arms dealer Marcus Thorne. My artist’s hands learned to assemble guns and follow him through hell. In our seventh year, he became obsessed with a woman given to him as a business gift—pure, innocent, unlike anything in his bloody world. He built her a sanctuary away from his darkness. It all shattered when I found my status listed as “divorced” in public records. When I confronted him, Marcus calmly cleaned his gun. “Serena is choosing me. Name your price.” Enraged, I slapped Serena at their wedding. That night, my sick mother was strapped to an armored vehicle. “You shouldn’t have touched her,” Marcus said coldly. “This is your lesson.” I begged on the wet pavement, but the engine roared. My mother’s blood sprayed my face. Pain seized me—then blackness. I awoke back to the day I discovered the divorce. This time, I didn’t confront him. I booked a flight immediately. My only thought: take my mother and disappear where Marcus could never find us. … “Ma’am, the system shows your current marital status as divorced.” The clerk’s robotic voice yanked me back to the present. My eyes were wide with terror, the phantom scent of my mother’s blood still clinging to the inside of my nose. “When?” I asked, my voice a raw whisper. “August 29th.” The date hit me like a sledgehammer. August 29th. Our seventh wedding anniversary. That day, I’d filled our home with flowers and candles, cooked his favorite meal. I waited until the candles melted into puddles of wax and the roses drooped, but Marcus never came home. He’d been busy divorcing me. I clutched my papers and turned to leave, but a familiar black Bentley was parked at the entrance. In my previous life, I had charged at that car, screaming questions at him. To keep Serena from discovering our relationship, Marcus had smashed the butt of his gun into my jaw, fracturing it. The memory sent a jolt of fear through me. I ducked into the shadows of a nearby alcove. A moment later, the car door opened. Marcus Thorne, the imperious king of his own dark world, opened the passenger door like a chauffeur. He took off his trench coat and draped it gently over the woman’s shoulders, his movements impossibly tender. Serena, dressed in a simple white dress, looked serene and pure, like a jade statue of a goddess standing in the morning light. Marcus took her hand. “Are you sure you want to marry me, Mr. Thorne?” she asked, her voice soft and uncertain. “Of course. I’ve been dreaming of this day. I’m the one who made you break your vows. It’s my responsibility to take care of you.” Serena’s delicate fingers drifted to her slightly rounded belly. “But I was just an ordinary woman from a cloister. I’m not worthy of someone like you. I’m not worthy of carrying your child. Maybe I should…” A possessive kiss cut her off. It was a long time before he pulled away. He cupped her face, his eyes overflowing with adoration. “Serena, no one in this world is more worthy of me than you. And only you are worthy to bear my children.” A sharp, stabbing pain shot through my own abdomen. I pressed my hand against it, tears blurring my vision. I waited until they had disappeared into the building before I stumbled away, my mind set. I took a cab to the hospital and scheduled an abortion. Lying on the examination table, the doctor looked at my ultrasound with a sigh. “Miss Hayes, your uterine wall is naturally thin. This might be the only child you’ll ever be able to have.” I stared at the ceiling, my voice as still and dead as a stagnant pond. “I’m divorced. This child shouldn’t exist.” The cold liquid of the anesthesia entered my veins, and my consciousness began to fade. In the haze, I saw Marcus, his ear pressed against my belly, listening for the baby’s kicks, laughing as he promised to teach our child how to customize a firearm. I saw him poring over books, searching for the perfect, auspicious name. I saw him holding me, promising to leave the blood and violence behind, to be a good father, to live a quiet life with me… And then, the final image burned itself into my mind: his face as he told Serena, “Only you are worthy to bear my children.” Two hours later, pale and drained, I walked into my mother’s hospital room. She was still in a coma, on a ventilator, but she was alive. Whole. Last time, I had gotten her killed. This time, I wouldn’t be so foolish. I used a private channel to arrange for her transfer to a secure facility. I went to the immigration office and filed the paperwork. In three days, when everything was finalized, I would be gone from Marcus’s world forever. As I stood in the rain, a sense of relief, lighter than any I’d felt in years, washed over me. I took a step forward, and three men in masks and hats lunged out of the downpour. Before I could react, the iron pipes in their hands whistled through the air. Pain exploded across my back, and I collapsed to my knees, the rain instantly turning red around me. I didn’t have to guess. They were Marcus’s enemies. I reached for my phone to call for help, but a pipe shattered it in my hand. Then the blows rained down, a merciless storm of metal on bone. Just then, the familiar Bentley glided past the end of the alley. It was Marcus’s car. “Marcus!” I screamed, using every last bit of my strength, struggling to get his attention. The car slowed. My heart hammered against my ribs. He saw me! But a second later, the Bentley accelerated, pulling away without a moment’s hesitation. Through the rain-streaked window, I saw Marcus raise a hand to cover Serena’s eyes. Of course. He couldn’t let his pure, innocent snow-white dove see such a bloody scene. The strength to call out again vanished. Agony ripped through me. Black spots danced in my vision, and the world faded into the coppery smell of my own blood. … When I opened my eyes, it was to the sterile white ceiling of a hospital room. The door was ajar. I heard the voice of Marcus’s right-hand man. “Boss, what if she finds out about Miss Serena? If she starts digging, I don’t think we can keep it hidden.” Marcus stubbed out his cigar. His voice was cold. “That’s not your concern. Your only job is to protect Serena.” “She’s too… clean. She’s not like us.” “Amelia knows every dirty trick in the book. Serena is too simple; she wouldn’t stand a chance against her.” “If you have to, use her mother. That old woman is her only weakness. She’ll do anything to protect her.” My fingers clenched the bedsheet. I bit down on my lip, hard, the taste of blood flooding my mouth. Years ago, when he had proposed, he had knelt on one knee and promised, “Amelia, from now on, I’m here. No one will ever hurt you again.” The same protective instinct, the same promise. Just a different woman. The woman he once shielded was now the dangerous, dirty-tricks-playing villain of his story. Footsteps approached. I squeezed my eyes shut, and when I opened them again, they were a mask of indifference. “You’re awake.” Marcus walked to my bedside and tossed a file onto the sheets. “I had my men look into it. It was the Southeast Asian syndicate.” “This is a truce agreement. Sign it, and they’ve agreed to give up their share of the South American arms market.” Our eyes met. I couldn’t speak. I had nearly been beaten to death by his enemies, and he had turned it into a business negotiation. “Marcus,” I finally managed, my voice a raw croak, “when did you decide to make this deal?” Was it the moment he saw me being attacked? Or had he known they were coming for me all along? He frowned, irritated by my question. I knew better than to press. The answer didn’t matter anymore. As if to appease me, he stayed in my room for the next two days, working from a laptop. But his phone never left his hand. Occasionally, he would smile at the screen, a soft, gentle smile that was once reserved only for me. I suddenly remembered the day we first met, seven years ago. He had been hunted by his rivals, bleeding out on the doorstep of my art studio. He was like a dying wolf, his eyes fierce but hiding a deep vulnerability. I should have called the police. But when our eyes met, some strange impulse made me drag him inside. I hadn’t known then that I was dragging myself into hell. Later, after my family went bankrupt, my father sold me to the largest black market in Southeast Asia. The man who bought me was a sadist. He tortured me until I was barely recognizable. It was Marcus who found me, who saved me. That was the second time we met. And it was then I understood that in this world, kindness was the most useless currency. From that day on, I went from a promising young artist to the infamous “Gun Doll” of the underworld. I assembled his guns, dismantled his bombs, my hands stained with blood that would never wash away. I thought we were partners, standing shoulder to shoulder. But he saw me as tainted, swallowed by the darkness, no longer as pure as the innocent woman he now craved. I looked at my hands. They were meant to hold brushes, to capture mountains and rivers. Now all they knew was the cold, hard steel of a gun. I thought of Serena’s clear, innocent eyes, and a bitter irony washed over me. All my love, all my devotion, had become a joke. After I was discharged, Marcus used his business as an excuse and disappeared. The day before I was scheduled to leave the country, I went to a local temple. I wanted to pray for the child I had lost. At the entrance, I saw Serena. She was tending to an injured stray cat, her simple white dress making her seem even more ethereal. She was clumsy with the antiseptic, and the cat struggled, smearing the medicine everywhere. I walked over and took the cotton swab from her hand. “There are still tiny bits of gravel in the wound. The medicine will only make it hurt more if you don’t clean it out first.” This was the first time we had been alone together since I learned of her existence. She didn’t know who I was. She put her palms together in a gesture of thanks. “Thank you.” I managed a tight smile, my heart surprisingly calm. When I told her I was there for a lost child, her eyes immediately filled with tears. She knelt before the altar, her hands pressed together in prayer. “May the Buddha guide the soul of that unborn child to a peaceful rebirth, and may he grant this mother health and peace.” I stood there, a strange sense of pity welling up inside me. I wanted to warn her that Marcus’s tenderness was a poison, that getting close to him meant being dragged into the abyss. But looking at her devout profile, the words died in my throat. If she knew who I was, she would surely break things off with him. And then, all of Marcus’s rage would be directed at me. The image of my mother’s brutal death flashed in my mind, and a cold dread washed over me. I made an excuse and slipped away. From a secluded corner, I checked the live feed from my mother’s new facility. Seeing a nurse pushing her wheelchair through a garden, I breathed a small sigh of relief. My mother was my only weakness. This time, I would not let her get caught in the crossfire. When I stepped back out, the cold barrel of a gun was pressed against the back of my head. I froze. Across the courtyard, Serena was slumped over, unconscious. I cursed my luck. A second later, the butt of the gun slammed into my neck. …

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My mother was in a car accident. Internal bleeding. They rushed her into surgery. I called my fiancé, Ian, a surgical prodigy, and begged him to operate on her himself. He promised he would. But as the operating room doors swung shut, he turned and walked into a different theater. I knelt on the cold linoleum of the hallway all night, praying for her to pull through. But the only thing that came back out was my mother’s body, covered by a white sheet. A raw, keening sound tore from my throat. I tried to rush to her, to see her one last time, but Ian’s star student, Serena, blocked my path, her grip like iron. Through a tear in the sheet, I saw it—an incision on my mother’s chest that should not have been there. And I knew, in that same moment, that Ian was in another room, transplanting a heart into Serena’s young son. The donor… was my mother. 1 My mother’s face was a pale, waxy grey beneath the sheet. The world swam in and out of focus, a dizzying blackness at the edge of my vision. I struggled against Serena’s hold, but her strength was inhuman. “Let me go! Get off me! I have to see my mom!” I screamed, my voice shredding. “She can’t be dead! Ian told me it was just a routine procedure to stop the bleeding! Why did she die on the table?” My grief echoed down the sterile hallway. Serena didn’t answer my questions. She just shot a look at the orderlies, a silent command to move the gurney faster. My legs gave out from under me. As I crumpled to the floor, my gaze fell on the gurney one last time. Through the blood-soaked sheet, I saw it—a long, brutal incision down the center of her chest, and beneath it, a sunken, hollow space. Her heart was gone. A phantom pain, sharp and searing, lanced through my own chest. It was the same agonizing cramp I’d felt hours earlier, while I was waiting outside the OR. My eyes widened in horror. I lunged forward, trying to rip the sheet away, to see the truth for myself. But before my fingers could touch the fabric, Serena grabbed me by the hair and dragged me back, shouting for security to restrain me. “Miss Hayes, I understand you’re grieving,” Serena said, her voice a cold, flat line. But her eyes held a glint of something else. Something cunning. “But the deceased should be treated with respect. Please don’t disturb the body.” I stared up at her, my own eyes burning red. “Something went wrong with the surgery! I am her next of kin, and I have a right to know what happened! Where is Ian?” A smirk played on her lips. “Dr. Vincent is busy saving lives. He doesn’t have time for you.” I watched, helpless, as they wheeled my mother’s body away. My hands shaking, I pulled out my phone and tried to call Ian. Ninety-nine times. He declined every single call. But his social media feed had a new post. A photo of him in his surgical scrubs, holding the hand of a small boy in a hospital bed. The caption read: A new life begins. Wishing you a long and healthy future. And there, on the chart visible in the corner of the photo, was the patient’s name: Leo. The procedure: Heart Transplant. Leo. Serena’s son, born with a congenital heart defect. The image of that horrific incision on my mother’s chest flashed in my mind. A monstrous truth began to dawn. Leo had been on the transplant list for ten years. How was it possible that a perfect donor match suddenly became available the very moment my mother was wheeled into surgery? With a guttural roar, I launched myself at Serena, my hands closing around her throat. “Where did your son’s heart come from?” I shrieked. “What did you do to my mother?” She clawed at my hands, gasping for air. A second later, I was thrown violently backward. Ian, fresh out of the operating room, shoved me away from her. My head cracked against the wall, and hot blood trickled down my temple, but he didn’t even glance at me. He was too busy fussing over Serena, gently brushing at the red marks on her neck, his eyes filled with a pained tenderness that was meant for me. “Susan! Are you insane?” he yelled. “Serena worked tirelessly to save your mother, and this is how you repay her?” Tears streamed down my face, mixing with the blood, staining the collar of my white blouse. My mom had spent all week sewing it for me by hand. I was supposed to wear it today, for the photo on our marriage license. The first time I ever wore it, and I had lost her forever. “You promised me, Ian!” I sobbed. “You promised you would do her surgery yourself! Why was Serena in that room?” “And don’t you think it’s a little too convenient? My mother shouldn’t have died! You let her die! You murdered her and you stole her heart for Leo!” The raw hatred in my eyes must have startled him, because he flinched. “What are you talking about? Your mother had a splenectomy! What does that have to do with her heart? How dare you drag Leo into this!” Serena, now safely nestled in Ian’s arms, had shed her defiant sneer. Her face was a mask of tear-streaked vulnerability. “Dr. Vincent, she had lost too much blood. She was already gone by the time she reached the OR. I did everything I could, but I couldn’t save her. It’s all my fault.” She looked at me, her voice trembling. “If Susan won’t believe me, then… then I’ll pay for it with my own life.” 2 Ian pulled her closer, shielding her as if I were the monster. He turned his gaze on me, his eyes filled with disgust and accusation, as if I were a raving lunatic. “Susan, every surgery has risks. It would have been the same even if I had been the one operating! Your mother’s life mattered, but what about Leo’s? Does his life not matter? I only have two hands! I can’t be in two places at once! Besides, Leo’s transplant was a far more critical procedure. Your mother’s surgery was simple. Of course it had to make way for Leo’s!” A cold, bitter laugh escaped my lips. So, in the eyes of this supposedly noble doctor, some lives were worth more than others. A simple “make way” was all it took to sign my mother’s death warrant. I should have seen it. Serena had named her son Leo. Ian Leo. It was a shrine to her obsession, and even though the boy wasn’t his, it was enough to buy Ian’s loyalty. “How could you say that?” I whispered, horrified. “She wasn’t just my mother, Ian, she was your benefactor! She paid for your entire education! And now her heart has been ripped out of her chest, and you stand there and defend this… this butchery? Or is there something else going on between you and your star student?” His face went rigid. He was an orphan. My mother had sponsored him from the time he was a child until he’d earned his doctorate. But he was deeply insecure about his past, and hated any mention of the charity that had saved him. At the same time, he had always shown a special, almost paternal indulgence towards Serena, who came from a similarly difficult background. “That’s enough, Susan! You’re hysterical! I won’t listen to this filth!” he snapped. “My relationship with Serena is purely professional! You have no right to slander us! If you keep this up, I’ll have you committed!” “Serena is a brilliant surgeon whom I trained myself! I trust her skills completely! What happened to your mother was a tragic accident! You need to accept it!” Hiding behind Ian, Serena shot me a look of pure, triumphant malice. “Susan, I am so, so sorry,” she said, her voice dripping with false sympathy. “But no matter what I did wrong, you can’t accuse me and Dr. Vincent of… that. I’ve told you, you’re mistaken. My conscience is clear, about your mother, and about my relationship with my mentor.” Blinded by rage, I lunged at her again. To protect Serena, Ian kicked me, hard, in the stomach. “I’ll say it one more time, Susan! No doctor would touch your mother’s heart without authorization! You’re the one who’s lost her mind!” A blinding, searing pain exploded in my abdomen. A warm gush of blood soaked through my jeans. The world tilted on its axis, and I collapsed into darkness. The last thing I heard was Ian’s voice, suddenly laced with panic. “Susan? Susan, what’s wrong?” When I woke up, I had miscarried. The baby I never even knew existed was gone. Maybe it didn’t want a father like him. Ian was at my bedside, his eyes filled with guilt. “Susan, how are you feeling? I’m so sorry. I… I didn’t know you were pregnant. Don’t be sad, we can have other children…” I shook my head, my voice a dead whisper. “No. We won’t.” I was done with him. I would make him and Serena pay for what they had done, in blood. But he didn’t understand. He just pulled out a death certificate and a pen, trying to press them into my hand. “Susan, I’ve had my team look into it. Leo’s transplant procedure was completely by the book. I trust Serena, but I’ll keep investigating, just to prove to you that you’re wrong. You have to let this go. People die, Susan. You have to wake up. Your mother wouldn’t want to see you like this, deluding yourself, turning into some crazy woman.” I shook my head violently, shoving his hand away. “You’re the one who’s deluded! I won’t sign it! This was murder! I demand an autopsy! I’m going to find out the truth!” He sighed, and in an instant, the guilt in his eyes hardened into something cruel. He grabbed my wrist, his grip like a vise. “If you won’t come back to reality on your own,” he said, his voice dangerously low, “then I’ll have to help you.” 3 I felt the bones in my wrist crack under the pressure, but he didn’t let go. He forced my hand down, scribbling a signature onto the form. “You’re a murderer, Ian! Both of you! You’ll burn for this!” I shrieked. “You say I’m lying, that I’m crazy? Then have the guts to come with me. Let’s go lift that sheet together and see what’s underneath!” His patience finally snapped. He threw a folder onto my face. “Susan, I have been trying to be gentle with you, for the sake of your mother, for the sake of our baby, but you refuse to listen! Open your eyes and read! That is the official organ donation consent form for Leo’s donor! See for yourself if the name on it is your mother’s!” I snatched the paper, my eyes scanning the page over and over. The donor’s name was not my mother’s. But it was impossible. I couldn’t have been wrong. The image of her empty, blood-filled chest was burned into my mind. It had haunted me even in my unconscious state. “No… it can’t be…” The door opened and Serena walked in. She knelt dramatically by my bedside. “Susan, you can blame me all you want, but my child is innocent! You have the legal documents right in front of you. Why won’t you believe it? You were almost a mother yourself! My Leo is only ten years old! How can you be so cruel as to use him as an excuse to slander me?” Ian pulled her to her feet. “She’s a madwoman, Serena. Don’t waste your breath trying to explain.” I ignored them, grabbing Ian’s arm, my grip desperate. “You say I’m lying? Then come with me. Let’s go look at my mother’s body. Right now.” He hesitated. He sat on the edge of my bed and gently touched my swollen wrist, a flicker of remorse in his eyes. His touch was soft, but his next words plunged me into an abyss of ice. “Susan, you can’t see her anymore.” “I’ve already signed the papers. I had her sent for cremation.” My head spun, a roar filling my ears. The pain in my chest was so intense I couldn’t breathe. “You bastard!” I gasped. “That’s my mother! You had no right to make that decision!” Ian was silent. It was Serena who spoke, her voice laced with a sickening innocence. “Susan, I was the one who suggested it. I was worried you were too emotionally unstable to face the body. I only asked Dr. Vincent to sign because I was thinking of you. Was that so wrong?” I whipped my head around to face her, wanting to tear her apart. I lunged forward and slapped her across the face with all my strength. A red handprint instantly bloomed on her cheek. “Who gave you the right to touch my mother?” I screamed. “Who the hell do you think you are?” Ian pulled Serena behind him, and then, without a word, he slapped me back, hard. I clutched my stinging cheek, staring at him in disbelief. The man who had once knelt before my mother and sworn to love and protect me for the rest of his life, had just struck me for her killer. “Susan! Serena was only trying to help you! How can you be so ungrateful?” he snarled. “Apologize to her. Right now. If you don’t, this wedding is off. It’s not like we ever made it to the courthouse anyway.” Tears blurred my vision. A desolate, arctic wind swept through my heart. This was the man my mother had sacrificed for, scrimping and saving for years, never buying herself a new dress so that he could have the best education. This was the man I had given my entire heart to, my complete and utter trust. I was a blind fool. And my foolishness had cost my mother her life. I looked at Ian, all the warmth draining from my eyes. “You don’t have to threaten me with marriage. I will not marry my mother’s murderer.” “And you don’t get to call this off, Ian. I’m ending it. We’re done.” I ripped the engagement ring—the one he had so carefully chosen for me—off my finger and threw it straight at his face. When it clattered to the floor, I stomped on it, again and again. He stared at me, dumbfounded, as if he couldn’t comprehend that the woman who had followed him so devotedly for years could be capable of such finality. He reached for my hand, but I shoved him away. Ignoring the pain in my body, I ran. All I wanted was to get my mother’s ashes and take her home. I walked all the way home from the crematorium, clutching the urn, feeling the warmth of her remains slowly turn to a chilling cold. My tears had run dry. But when I opened the front door to our apartment, a fresh wave of rage seized me, so violent it made my entire body tremble.

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At seven years old, my parents were taken from me in a carefully orchestrated car crash. My older brother, steeling his heart against my desperate cries, sent me to an orphanage. He told me, “Aurora, it’s too dangerous to be with me. Once I’ve taken care of everything, I’ll come back and bring you home.” What my brother didn’t know was that he had sent me to a place of nightmares, a corrupt orphanage where I struggled to survive, where I often wished for death. But the thought of my brother, alone and grieving, was the only thing that kept me going. I couldn’t bear to cause him more pain. On my eighteenth birthday, he finally came for me, bringing his adopted sister, Cici, with him. He held Cici’s hand, his face etched with guilt as he looked at me. “Aurora, Cici has been through so much with me, wandering from place to place. She hasn’t had a stable, comfortable life like you have these past years. Please, be more understanding with her.” I smiled and nodded, but inside, a single thought echoed: My brother has someone to keep him company now. I can finally die in peace. Later, my brother would weep until his voice was gone at my hospital bedside, begging me to just look at him. But by then, I could no longer open my eyes. 1 The year I turned eighteen, I finally received the news I had been waiting for: my brother was coming to take me home. I was so excited I couldn’t sleep a wink. The next morning, I stood in front of the mirror for what felt like hours, scrutinizing every detail of my appearance. The clothes I wore were new and beautiful, without a single hole or patch—a luxury I had never known. The director, a woman with a fleshy, cruel face, waddled over, her smile never reaching her eyes. She placed a heavy hand on my shoulder. “Our little Aurora is so pretty.” My body began to tremble reflexively, my pupils constricting. I instinctively moved to curl into a ball and cover my head. Her grip tightened on my wrist, a drilling pain shooting up my arm, stopping my movement. “You know what to say and what not to say, don’t you, Aurora? You know the consequences…” I nodded, my heart pounding with terror. Only then did she release me, humming a cheerful tune as she turned and left. I bit my lip, the joy I’d felt in my new clothes completely gone. I was standing at the orphanage gates before seven in the morning, craning my neck in anticipation. My brother had said he would be there at eight. But the clock ticked past nine, and there was still no sign of him. A look of smug satisfaction spread across the director’s face. “Just as I expected. The brother you’ve been dreaming of all these years doesn’t seem to care about you that much, does he?” I was terrified of the director, but on this one subject, my stubbornness was absolute. “You’re wrong. My brother loves me more than anyone. He’ll come.” The sun grew hotter. Just as the clock was about to strike noon, a fleet of sleek, black cars pulled up to the orphanage. The door of the second car opened, and a man stepped out. He had sharp features, a cold expression, and a tiny, crimson mole just beside his lips. His face was both familiar and strange, but my gut told me this was him—my brother, Matt, whom I hadn’t seen in a decade. My only family in the entire world. My legs moved on their own, first in a brisk walk, then breaking into a run. “Matt…” The smile had barely bloomed on my face when I saw the man, who had looked so aloof a moment ago, bend down. His expression softened into one of doting affection as he reached into the back seat and helped a young woman out. She seemed to be pouting. He gently stroked her hair, a helpless, loving smile on his face. The scene was so warm, so perfect. “…Matt?” I stared, frozen, at the tender moment. The hopeful lilt in my voice fell flat. I was rooted to the spot, unsure whether to step forward or retreat. The girl who was now clinging to my brother’s arm was beautiful, dressed in clothes that looked like they were made of sunshine. A butterfly clip sparkled in her hair, and gold-leaf earrings danced in the breeze. She was a princess from one of the fairytales my brother used to tell me. I looked down at myself, a wave of shame washing over me. I felt like an ugly duckling who had stolen a princess’s dress. “Aurora?” A magnetic, beautiful voice called my name. I snapped my head up and saw my brother’s eyes, now red-rimmed, fixed on me. As if confirming it was really me, his voice trembled as he said my name again. “Aurora.” A lump formed in my throat, and my eyes began to sting. All my complicated thoughts vanished. “Matt,” I whispered. The next second, I was pulled into a powerful embrace. I heard my brother’s choked voice in my ear. “Aurora. My Aurora. I’ve finally found you.” I couldn’t hold back any longer. I clung to him and wept. “I… I missed you so, so much, Matt…” In that moment, my heart was overflowing with a bittersweet mix of joy and sorrow. I thought, Thank God for my brother. Thank God he remembers me. Thank God I didn’t give up all those times the abuse pushed me to the brink of death. A clear, feminine voice cut through our embrace. “Alright, alright! Let her go, Matt. You’re going to squeeze the life out of her. It’s embarrassing!” The girl pried at my brother’s arms, and I was released from his warm hug. Her gaze fell on me, her eyes filled with a practiced guilt. “I’m so sorry, Aurora. We were supposed to be here at eight, but my stomach started hurting on the way. Matt got so worried he insisted we go to the hospital. That’s why we’re so late.” A small smile played on her lips. “When I was little, I had a fever that almost killed me. Ever since then, he gets paranoid whenever I feel even a little sick. He acts like such a baby, it’s ridiculous.” My brother looked flustered at her teasing. He awkwardly ran a hand through his hair, then turned and gently flicked her forehead. “Hey, you’re not supposed to make fun of your big brother.” She giggled, covering her mouth like a cat who had just stolen a treat. My brother’s attention was completely captured by her. When he finally remembered me, he gave me an awkward glance. Then, he took the girl’s hand, his expression softening with affection. “Aurora, this is Cici. She’s our sister. Cici has been through so much hardship with me. She hasn’t had a stable, comfortable life like you have these past years. You need to be more understanding with her.” Sister? I stared blankly at Cici. Sensing my confusion, Matt explained gently, “Cici is my adopted sister. I met her about a month after you went to the orphanage. Her gambler father had beaten her half to death. When I saw her, I thought of you…” He didn’t finish the sentence, but I understood. A month after sending me away, he found Cici, and in her, he saw me. And so, he allowed another sister to stay by his side, to be his constant companion, to never be separated from him. If he could have a sister with him, why didn’t he come back for me? I wanted to scream, to demand an answer. But seeing the happy, doting look on his face, the words died in my throat. I forced my stiff lips into a smile. “That’s good. It’s good that you had someone with you, Matt.” When we got into the car, Cici pulled Matt into the back seat. I was about to follow, but the driver stepped in front of me, shutting the rear door. He looked at me with a hard expression, as if he were defending some sacred principle. “Miss, please take the front seat. Miss Cici isn’t comfortable with strangers in the back seat with her and Mr. Lee.” I froze, my eyes searching for my brother, but the heavily tinted windows were like a black mirror, reflecting nothing, sealing the inside world from the out. I lowered my gaze and turned towards the passenger door. “Thank you,” I said softly. The driver glanced at me. “We’ve watched Miss Cici grow up. She’s suffered a lot following the young master. We all feel for her. After all, those hardships… they were meant for someone else.” I understood his meaning perfectly. The suffering Cici endured was meant for me. I should be grateful. I shouldn’t dare to have a single negative thought. Matt wanted to throw a welcome party for me, but Cici’s mood had been sour for days. That afternoon, I followed an online tutorial and, after several failed attempts, managed to make a strawberry cream cake. It used to be my favorite. Matt had said Cici was a lot like me, so I thought she must love sweet cake too. Maybe it would cheer her up. I wanted to tell her that I wouldn’t be with Matt for much longer. I had only held on for so long because I was afraid he would be lonely without any family. Now that he had her, I could let go. I just… I just hadn’t seen my brother in so long. I wanted to look at him a little longer. I had no intention of taking her place. That evening, I carried the carefully prepared cake towards Cici’s room. The housekeeper had given me a room on the first floor. Matt and Cici both lived on the second. The housekeeper had explained that the second floor was their private space, off-limits to outsiders. So, she had naturally prepared a guest room for me on the ground floor. At the time, I told myself it was fine. We hadn’t seen each other in years. It was normal that he wouldn’t want me invading his territory. But now, in the dead of night, my thoughts drifted back to the brother I knew before I was nine. In the spring, he would share the wishing tree he had planted with me. In the summer, he would place a birthday crown on my head and tell me his only birthday wish was to make all of mine come true. He was the best brother in the world. He never set boundaries with me. The light from the study was warm and inviting. I heard familiar yet distant voices. I stopped, peering through the partially open door. I saw Matt and Cici. He was comforting her, his expression full of remorse. “I know throwing a welcome party for Aurora has upset you. But she is my sister, after all. And I promised her I would come back for her.” The person being comforted had the courage to be petulant. “I know I have no right to be jealous, but you’ve been so busy with her lately, you’ve barely paid any attention to me… Before she came back, you only had eyes for me.” Cici looked so pitiful, her voice so wounded, that Matt relented. I knew how he was. He could never resist anyone he had taken under his protection. It used to be me. Now, it was Cici. “Alright, alright. I’ll take you out tomorrow, just the two of us. How’s that?” “Just you and me. No one else.” Matt couldn’t help but laugh. He reached out and stroked her hair. “Okay, I get it, you little jealous thing.” A drop of cream slid from the top of the cake in my hands, like a teardrop. I looked down, confused. Does cake cry, too? There was a sound from the study. Like a startled rat in a sewer, I spun around, desperate to hide. But before I could escape, my brother’s voice called out behind me. “Aurora?” I froze, my feet glued to the floor. I turned back, forcing a practiced smile. “Matt. I made a cake for Cici.” His gaze shifted from my face to the cake in my hands. His brow furrowed, and his tone became sharp. “Cici is allergic to strawberries. How many times have I said it? No strawberries are allowed in this house.” I swayed, the world blurring around me. Matt’s tall figure became a hazy outline. “If Aurora likes them, then when I grow up, I’ll build a whole house made of strawberries just for her.” A nine-year-old boy, full of grand promises for his beloved little sister. Ten years later, the same person said, “Cici is allergic. No strawberries in this house.” I hung my head, ashamed, not wanting him to see the tears welling in my eyes. “I-I didn’t know. I’m sorry, Matt. I’ll… I’ll eat it. I won’t let it go to waste…” I reached out, grabbed a handful of cake, and shoved it into my mouth. The cloying sweetness of the cream mixed with the tartness of the strawberries, creating the most bitter taste in the world. I stuffed another piece into my mouth, and another, the bile rising in my throat. But just as I had learned to do at the orphanage, I looked up at him with a bright, placating smile. “See, Matt? I’m eating it all. Please don’t be angry…” As I reached for another piece, my hand was slapped away, hard. The back of my hand, where it was struck, immediately turned red. The familiar scene, the pain that was etched into my bones, triggered my defense mechanism. I instinctively covered my head and dropped to my knees, begging for forgiveness. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. Please don’t hit me… Please, have mercy… don’t hit me…” “Aurora… Aurora… calm down. What’s wrong?” A voice pulled me back from the hazy fog of terror. The expected blows never came. The overwhelming fear began to recede. My face was a mess of tears and snot. My clothes were sticky with white cream and red strawberry juice. I was still on my knees, a pathetic, broken figure. In the doorway of the study stood Cici, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock and horror. The warm light bathed her in a golden glow, making her look like a pristine princess in a castle. A wave of shame and self-loathing, more intense than anything I had ever felt, washed over me. I shoved the person holding me away and scrambled to my feet, running blindly down the hall. I heard my brother calling my name, but I couldn’t bear to look back. His childish voice seemed to echo in my ears. “My sister… I’m going to raise her to be the most beautiful and happiest princess in the world.” He had kept his promise, after all. In the past ten years, he had raised Cici very, very well. I hid in my room, in the pitch-black darkness that reminded me of the basement where I was often locked away. My wrist was raw and bloody from where I had been gnawing on it, but I felt no pain. All I could see was the scene from moments ago. Matt knew now. He had seen me break. Would he be disappointed? Disgusted? Would he abandon me again, just like he did ten years ago? The more I thought, the harder I bit down. My eyes scanned the room, and in the faint moonlight, I saw the fruit knife on the nightstand. I had always been afraid that if I died, my brother would be sad. But now… a version of me that caused him so much trouble would be better off dead. If I died, Cici wouldn’t be upset anymore. The people around him wouldn’t have to keep warning me away from her. And Matt wouldn’t have to be bothered with any of it. I pressed the sharp blade against my wrist. Blood began to seep out. Suddenly, the door was kicked open. The knife was snatched from my hand. Blood dripped onto the floor. Not just mine, but my brother’s too. My heart stopped. A suffocating feeling gripped my chest. I scrambled to grab the knife from his hand, my voice frantic with disbelief. “Matt, you’re hurt! Let me see, please…” But he held the knife in a death grip. No matter how hard I pulled, he wouldn’t let go. Tears streamed down my face. I looked up and met his gaze. It was so cold it froze me to the spot. “Aurora Lee, you’ve got some nerve now, haven’t you? Daring to hurt yourself?” The familiar words sent a jolt of déjà vu through me. When I was six, I was being mischievous and fell, chipping my front tooth. The dentist said no candy while it healed. But I couldn’t resist. I snuck two caramels during the day. That night, the toothache was so bad I cried my eyes out. Matt held me, his heart aching for me, but he was so angry. He had used the exact same words then, his face set in a stern expression. “Aurora Lee, you’ve got some nerve now, haven’t you? Daring to sneak candy behind my back!” My wrist was gently lifted, pulling me back to the present. The knife was thrown to the floor with a clatter. Matt brought in the first-aid kit and began to bandage my wound in silence. I tried to smile, to tell him that this kind of pain was nothing to me now. But my mouth felt like it was glued shut. I couldn’t smile. I couldn’t speak. A single, crystalline tear fell from my eye, landing on the gauze and spreading into a dark, wet patch. I panicked, trying to comfort him through my own confusion. “Matt, don’t cry. I’m… I’m fine. It doesn’t hurt. It really doesn’t…” The next moment, I was pulled into a warm embrace. “How could it not hurt?” he whispered, his voice breaking. “You used to be so afraid of pain…” I looked at my grieving brother and blinked. But Matt, I thought, I’m used to it now. The person who needed your comfort was the seven-year-old girl who was beaten for the first time. The eighteen-year-old version is already so broken, comfort can’t fix her. Matt didn’t say anything else, just held me silently. My rigid body slowly began to relax in his arms. I closed my eyes, savoring this fleeting moment of warmth. I’ll live a little longer, I thought greedily. Just this once. I knew I had to say a proper goodbye before I left. And there was the orphanage. I was gone, but there were other children still suffering there. I wanted them to have a chance at happiness, a life that wasn’t like mine. I took a breath, full of a fragile hope. “Matt, I…” Before I could finish, the frantic voice of the housekeeper came from the doorway. “Young Master, Miss Cici was frightened. She has a slight fever and is having nightmares. You…” Matt shot to his feet, knocking the first-aid kit to the floor. Its contents scattered everywhere. My unfinished sentence lay shattered among them. He paused at the door for a second but didn’t look back. “You get some rest,” he said quickly. “I’ll spend time with you later. I need to check on Cici. Her situation is more urgent.” I watched his back as he left, and in a daze, I was transported back to that rainy night ten years ago, when he had walked away and left me behind. Someone once said that once a crack forms, it can never be truly repaired. Once a lie begins, it never ends. In that moment, ten years ago, my brother had shown me his back for the first time. And it seemed that ever since, all he had ever shown me was his back. Cici’s illness lingered, and the welcome party was postponed again and again. Matt looked at me with guilt in his eyes. “Aurora, just a little longer. Cici can’t handle any stress right now.” I nodded obediently. “It’s okay, Matt. Cici’s health is more important.” Cici was sick for over a month. She only started to feel better a few days before her birthday. And so, my welcome party was transformed into her birthday party. “Aurora,” Matt said, “this is Cici’s birthday. It wouldn’t be right to introduce you then. Just wait a little longer. I’ll introduce you to everyone soon.” I didn’t want to make things difficult for him. I smiled, pretending not to care. “It’s fine, Matt. Just having you bring me home is enough to make me happy. As for the party, let’s just cancel it. It’s not fair to Cici. She suffered so much with you all these years.” I could see the relief wash over his face. He reached out and patted my head, his eyes full of pity. “You’re right. Cici is different from you. I couldn’t give her a stable, happy environment. I dragged her into my troubles.” I lowered my head, the bitter sting of tears rushing to my eyes. I still didn’t understand. Why could he take Cici with him, but not me? At least with him, I wouldn’t have been beaten every day. I wouldn’t have had to wash clothes in freezing water in the dead of winter until my hands were covered in sores. I wouldn’t have had to wear thick winter clothes in the sweltering heat and be sent out onto the streets to beg like a fool, stripped of all my dignity. Everyone said I had lived a comfortable life for ten years. Everyone pitied the wealthy Cici for being kidnapped once. Maybe the director was right. Maybe my life was worthless, so my suffering didn’t count as suffering. I remembered what the director had said to me on my sixteenth birthday. “It’s amazing how different two lives can be. Both are sisters. One is a pampered princess, showered with riches. The other is a timid, worthless creature that anyone can step on.” At the time, I was trembling too much to think about her words, terrified of the beating that was sure to follow. But she had been in a talkative mood. She showed me a photo from a birthday party. In it, a man whose face was hidden was placing a crown on a little princess’s head. The scene was lavish, opulent, filled with the kind of doting love I didn’t dare to even dream of. Just looking at it felt like being burned. I thought, That girl is so lucky. But it’s okay. I have my brother. If he were here, he would do even more for me. The thought of him made me smile. The director’s eyes were full of scorn. “Different. So very different… hahaha…” I didn’t understand her words then. But now, I understood everything. I looked up at my brother, who was rushing off to share the good news with Cici, and my vision blurred with tears again. It really was different. Her sixteenth birthday party, and my eighteenth homecoming party. Matt, are you still my Matt? But then I thought, maybe this is for the best. If he doesn’t care, then when I die, he won’t be sad. When I cut my wrist again, my brother slapped me across the face. “Aurora Lee, what in the world do you want?”

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The ten-year reunion was a predictable sea of muted business attire and forced smiles. Julian Hayes, our class’s golden boy turned tech millionaire, was holding court, a scotch swirling in his hand. “Come on, Julian,” someone called out from the circle of admirers. “We’re all pushing thirty. Most of us are married, some even have kids. How is a guy like you still on the market?” A practiced, melancholy smile touched his lips. “Some of us are haunted,” he said, his voice just loud enough to carry. “Cursed to spend a lifetime chasing the ghost of the one that got away. I’d rather be alone than settle.” As if on cue, his gaze drifted past the crowd, landing on the woman beside me. On my wife, Seraphina. His eyes were a storm of unspoken history. The air crackled. A wave of excited whispers went through the group. “He’s talking about Sera, isn’t he?” “Oh my god, they were the couple everyone rooted for in college! I was heartbroken when he left and she ended up with Ethan.” “Let’s be real, Ethan just saw an opening. Julian and Sera were the real deal.” Amid the rising chatter, I leaned in, my lips brushing against my wife’s ear. Her skin was cool. “Darling,” I murmured, my voice a low rumble only she could hear. “They’re saying I stole you. What’s your take?” 1 “Wait, Ethan, you and Seraphina are married?!” The exclamation cut through the noise, followed by a ripple of shock. Julian’s head snapped up, his eyes locking onto Sera with raw disbelief. A few of the old classmates laughed awkwardly. “Seriously? You guys never said a word! We’ve known each other for over a decade, that’s cold.” “Yeah, unless… Sera didn’t want anyone to know.” “Well, she was a wreck when Julian left for his fellowship in London. I heard she spiraled into a deep depression.” “So, it makes sense she’d fall back on Ethan. He was always there, lurking.” “Don’t defend him. We all know Julian only left because his family had nothing. Ethan’s family might have been struggling, but they had a name. He took advantage…” I tuned out the noise, placing a piece of seared salmon—her favorite—onto Seraphina’s plate. Five years. Three years of dating, two of marriage. Not every ghost gets to write a sequel. Besides, Sera and I grew up together. We were history long before Julian was a chapter. If I hadn’t insisted she come tonight, he wouldn’t have even laid eyes on her. But she hadn’t touched the salmon. Her fork lay beside her plate, untouched. Her eyes were still fixed on Julian, a locked, silent conversation I wasn’t privy to. The warmth of the evening suddenly felt like a chill on my skin. I put my own fork down, a cold knot tightening in my stomach. Don’t tell me he still has a hold on her. I’d almost managed to forget how completely she’d once been consumed by him. Back in college, Julian was the brilliant, brooding scholarship kid from the wrong side of the tracks. Seraphina, the daughter of a real estate tycoon, had fallen for him, hard. She’d helped him, supported him, only for him to push her away with a snarl. “You’re just like the rest of them,” he’d spat, his pride more fragile than glass, “looking down on me from your ivory tower.” It took her a year to break through that wall. They were together, and then, in their junior year, he was gone. A single letter left on her pillow was his only goodbye. You deserve better than me. I won’t hold you back. She raced to JFK, but only saw the silver glint of his plane climbing into the clouds. The breakdown that followed was real. I was the one who found her on the edge of her balcony, a ghost in the city lights. I was the one who pulled her back from the brink. “He doesn’t want you, Sera. But I do,” I’d whispered, holding her trembling body. “What was it you loved? His ambition? His struggle? I can learn to be that man. Let me be the one who stays.” From that day on, I molded myself into a reflection of the man she’d lost, but with a promise to never leave. My family’s construction business, teetering on the edge of bankruptcy, found a lifeline with a timely investment from her father. Then came the ultimatum from her parents: marry the heir to a rival firm or be cut off. I was prepared to step away, to release her. But that night, she came to me, wrapping her arms around me as if she were drowning. She cried, begging me not to abandon her too. “If you leave,” she sobbed into my chest, “it will kill me.” I smoothed her hair. “No one dies from a broken heart, Sera.” “But I love you.” “And Julian?” I asked, my own heart a stone in my chest. She pulled my head down, her lips finding mine in a desperate, searching kiss. “I hate him,” she breathed against my mouth. “From now on, all I want is Ethan.” My hands clenched at her waist, and I pulled her closer. By morning, her parents had accepted me as their son-in-law. The whispers in our social circle were brutal. They called me a climber, the man who saved his family’s failing company by seducing a vulnerable heiress. They were all just waiting, watching for the day she’d inevitably discard me. But she didn’t. For five years, we built a life. We were the power couple, our love a fortress. Until tonight. Until the ghost walked back in and I saw the look in her eyes. My heart gave a sharp, painful jolt. “How utterly pathetic.” Seraphina’s voice, sharp and cold as ice, sliced through the reunion’s buzz. Julian’s smile froze on his face. “I married Ethan because I love him,” she declared, her voice ringing with authority. “Who didn’t fall for a manipulative asshole in college? Don’t you dare try to tarnish my husband’s name with your revisionist history.” She turned the full force of her scorn on Julian. “And you, Julian. All that time in London, and this is what you’ve become? Have you even broken eight figures? A staff of ten?” The last of his smile evaporated. Then, she turned to me, her entire demeanor softening as she looped her arm through mine. “Honey, I told you we shouldn’t have come. This is such a bore.” “You’re not wrong,” I murmured back, my voice low and steady. “Anyone who upsets you deserves whatever you give them.” A stunned silence fell over the room. The party was, for all intents and purposes, over. As we left, the gossipers from before mumbled apologies, wishing us a long and happy life. Julian remained at the table, his head bowed, a solitary figure in his designer suit. As we stepped out of the ballroom, I felt it: Sera glanced back over her shoulder. He looked broken, a portrait of regret. Her hand, intertwined with mine, tightened for a fraction of a second. Then she faced forward again, a bright smile on her face as if nothing had happened, and we walked to the car. Back in our penthouse, the city lights sprawling beneath us, the evening’s events settled like a poison in my gut. I loosened my tie, my voice hoarse. “Sera… if you want to be with him again, we can talk about a divorce—” Before I could finish, she shoved me back onto the velvet sofa, hiking up her cocktail dress to straddle my lap. Her fingers silenced my lips, then traced a path down my throat, the touch electric against my skin. Her cool, composed face was inches from mine, a stark contrast to the fire in her eyes. “Don’t you ever say that,” she whispered, her breath warm against my cheek. “Now carry me to bed. I want you.” She kissed me, a hungry, claiming kiss that left no room for ghosts or doubts. We were a tangle of limbs and whispered words, moving from the living room to the bedroom. For a moment, all the ugliness faded. A genuine smile touched my lips. And then her phone rang, buzzing on the nightstand. Acting on instinct, I reached over and hit answer. Heavy, ragged breathing came through the speaker. Then Julian’s voice, thick with alcohol and choked with emotion. “Sera… why couldn’t you just wait for me? It’s only been five years…” He sobbed. “You call me a monster, but you have no idea… I’ve only ever loved you.” I let the silence hang for a beat, then spoke, my voice devoid of emotion. “It’s three in the morning, Julian.” Another pause. “Sera just fell asleep. She had a… strenuous evening. Should I wake her?” The line went dead. I looked over at my wife, her face serene in sleep. Her eyelashes fluttered, and I saw the faintest glimmer of a tear track at the corner of her eye. A nightmare, perhaps. Pulling her into my arms, I held her close, trying to banish the ghosts for both of us as I drifted into an uneasy sleep. 2 Two hours later, I woke to an empty bed. The space beside me was cold. Where did she go? A low murmur of voices drifted from the living room. My first thought was a break-in. I slid out of bed, not bothering with shoes, and crept to the bedroom door, cracking it open just enough to see. The scene in the living room froze the blood in my veins. The cool air from the vents felt like a polar vortex under my bare feet. Julian was on our sofa, his face a mask of anguish, clutching the sleeve of Seraphina’s silk robe. “I’m sorry, Sera, I was a fool. Please, just give me one more chance.” Sera stood stiffly, pulling her arm away. She had Julian’s phone in her hand and was speaking into it with cold fury. “Get over here and collect your boyfriend. He’s making a drunken scene outside my apartment building.” A few minutes later, hurried footsteps echoed in the hallway. I widened the crack in the door. The woman who rushed in was instantly recognizable: Claire Thorne. The sole heiress to the Thorne hospitality empire, a family whose fortune dwarfed even Sera’s. She lived in our building, a few floors up. Her eyes were red-rimmed with panic as she fussed over Julian. I almost had to admire his talent. In college, he had the heiress of the city’s top development firm ready to die for him. Now, after a few years abroad, he had the undisputed princess of New York’s high society wrapped around his finger. I closed the door silently as they left. My phone buzzed. It was a text from my best friend, Mark. [You see this? That scumbag Julian was at The Carlyle bar, crying to some gossip columnist about how he still loves Sera. The video is already going viral!] [What a pathetic loser. Sees you two are happy and suddenly he’s full of regret.] I ignored his rant and sent him the photo I’d discreetly snapped of the scene in my living room. [Looks like he has a girlfriend. Claire Thorne.] Mark’s reply was instantaneous. [WTF?! Is there a brain-eating amoeba attached to that guy? What does Claire Thorne see in him?!] I slipped back into bed just as the first light of dawn was breaking. The chaos, however, was just beginning. I was jolted awake later that morning by the sound of shouting. I stumbled out of the bedroom to find Sera’s parents, Robert and Eleanor Vance, sitting ramrod straight on the sofa, their faces like thunderclouds. They’d seen the news. “Get that boy out of New York!” Robert’s voice boomed. “That pathetic video from last night… I’ve had three calls from board members this morning! This is a PR nightmare.” Eleanor turned to her daughter. “He’s the one who abandoned you, Seraphina. Don’t be a fool. He’s using these disgusting tactics to ruin your marriage, to ruin us.” “If you don’t handle this,” Robert finished, his voice a low threat, “the full weight of Vance Realty will come down on him. We will bury him.” He stormed out without another word. Seraphina stood biting her lip, her eyes red. She turned and saw me standing there. “Ethan,” she said, a flash of panic in her eyes. “It’s not what it looks like. And Julian is engaged to Claire Thorne now. I don’t know why he’s doing this.” She took a deep breath. “I’ll fix it.” And she did. Sera, who had been taking over the reins of her family’s company, went on the offensive. We did a series of high-profile interviews and photoshoots, positioning ourselves as the unshakable power couple. She used the positive press to launch an aggressive campaign, poaching contracts and deals right out from under the Thorne empire. It was a declaration of war. A month later, the war came to us. We were leaving a gala at The Met when Julian stumbled out from a darkened alcove, lurching towards us. His white shirt was askew, a smear of blood at the corner of his mouth. “Sera, help me… please…” The scene was so eerily familiar, it was like a scene from a movie I’d seen a thousand times. He was the wounded hero, the noble soul beaten down by a cruel world. He grabbed for her sleeve, his eyes locking on me. He flinched, snatching his hand back as if burned. “Mr. Vance… Ethan… I’m sorry,” he stammered, shrinking back. “I’ll leave the city. I promise. You’ll never… you’ll never have to see me near her again.” His voice cracked. He clenched his fists, squeezed his eyes shut, then turned and limped away, a solitary, tragic figure disappearing into the New York night. I almost had to laugh. The performance was flawless. He had perfectly staged it to look like I, the jealous husband, had sent thugs to teach him a lesson. He was painting me as a violent monster, all while playing the victim to win Sera’s sympathy. The problem was, he was Claire Thorne’s fiancé. Making a move on him would be corporate suicide. I would never be that stupid. I shot a glance at Sera. Her face was an unreadable mask. “I heard Vance Realty blacklisted him,” she said, her voice cool as she took my arm. “His company is about to go under. He’s been begging for a lifeline.” She smiled, a cold, sharp thing. “Not my problem.” In the car, I tested the waters. “Sera… you don’t actually think I had anything to do with that, do you?” She leaned her head on my shoulder. “I know you didn’t,” she said softly. “I trust you.” I nodded, letting out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. She knew me. She knew how hard I’d fought to rebuild my family’s name, how much I valued our stability. She knew I wouldn’t risk it all on such a reckless act. The next morning, five hundred million dollars vanished from our primary corporate account. It was the seed money for our IPO. Without it, my company, my family’s legacy, was dead in the water. I called Sera. No answer. Panicked, I drove to her office, storming past her assistant and throwing open the door. And there he was. Julian, sitting on the plush sofa, looking pale and fragile, a fresh bandage on his cheek. Seraphina was beside him. Her head snapped up, her eyes meeting mine. “Five hundred million. It’s gone from the account, Sera. Was it…” I needed to hear her say it. “I took it,” she said, her voice flat. “Why?” Her eyes were chips of ice. “Julian’s company was five hundred million in debt. I paid it off for him.” Julian himself looked stunned, fumbling for his phone to check his company’s accounts. I stared at her, uncomprehending. She stood, grabbing his hand and pulling him behind her, shielding him like a mother protecting her child. “You owe him this, Ethan!”

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I’d picked one of the two boys I’d grown up with. Waking up, I saw the comments scrolling across my vision, a strange, spectral feed only I could see. 【Guess the side piece is finally awake. The screen’s been black all night. So much for the male lead being pure, sigh.】 【It’s fine, you guys. The main character has high standards. She only wants a guy who can go for an hour, minimum. The male leads have to practice on the side piece to get their stamina up.】 【Both of them have been ‘practicing’ on her for ages. Damn, she’s eating well. Wish I could sub in!】 【Her name’s Lane? More like the fast lane.】 I processed that for a moment. Then I nudged the man sleeping beside me. “Hey. Are you bad in bed?” His eyes fluttered open. “You only lasted, like, twenty minutes last night.” 1 After the screen went black again, the words started flooding the feed. 【OMG, she’s good. Got him right back into bed with one sentence. Can I please get cast for a couple of episodes?!】 【Let her have her moment. She’s going to lose it when both male leads ditch her for the Siren. They’ll be falling all over themselves for the real main character.】 I kicked Caleb’s back lightly with my foot. “I’m wiped. Carry me to the shower.” He caught my ankle, his voice a low growl. “Lane. Did you get there?” In the bathroom, the sound of the shower eventually faded. Caleb walked out, a vaguely apologetic look on his face. “Hey, Lane, something came up. I can’t give you a ride today.” The feed laughed. 【’Something came up,’ LOL. He’s running off to worship at the altar of the Siren, obviously.】 【And the side piece thinks she’s irresistible. He’s just finishing his warmup before heading to the main event. In a bit, he’ll be holding the main character’s face, kissing her like she’s the only woman on earth.】 【Wait, hold up. Didn’t his hand just touch the side piece’s foot?】 【OMG DOES SHE HAVE ATHLETE’S FOOT?! AHHHHH!!!】 The feed was screaming. I paused, halfway through pulling on my dress, and offered him a placid smile. “Go ahead. I can get home on my own.” I didn’t get it. We were two adults scratching an itch. Why did the disembodied voices of the internet think I’d “lose it”? Standing alone in front of the hotel, a new model Porsche, the color of a stormy sky, purred to a stop in front of me. A refined, almost severe face looked out. “Why are you calling me at this hour?” I smiled at him. “Missed you, I guess.” The feed shrieked. 【HOLY SHIT, ISN’T THAT THE MAIN CHARACTER’S UNATTAINABLE CRUSH?! WHAT IS HE DOING HERE!!!】 What they didn’t know was that I didn’t have two childhood best friends. I had three. Besides the other two, there was the man now driving with quiet focus beside me. Every summer and winter break of my childhood was spent with him. The time we’d had together was no less than with the others. The feed was in a frenzy. 【The Siren’s one true obsession is Grant! Every time she gets near him, she’s completely captivated by his presence! Why does Grant even know Lane?!】 【I can’t. I just scrolled ahead in the spoilers—the Siren can see Grant’s stats and he’s a NINE. That number! A NINE! AHHHH!】 I studied him. His hands, with their long, elegant fingers, rested on the steering wheel. The top button of his dress shirt was fastened, giving him an air of impeccable, restrained class. He was staring straight ahead, yet the tips of his ears were slowly turning a deep red. Behind us, a chorus of impatient horns began to blare. He seemed not to hear them, turning his head to look at me. “What is it, Lane?” I asked him, “Are you… a nine?” He looked almost disappointed. He put the car in gear with a soft sigh of resignation. “Lane, I’m twenty-seven.” The air conditioning was blasting. I looked away, grasping for something to say. “You’re not at the office. Why button your shirt up all the way? It’s so formal.” The consequences of an all-nighter were catching up to me. I slept it off, waking up to find it was already three in the afternoon. My phone was blown up with messages from Rhys. 【Lane, you busy?】 【Silas just rolled out a new tasting menu. Everything’s flown in fresh. Want to go tonight? My treat.】 I didn’t reply. The feed was back. 【Stupid side piece. She has no idea she’s just a pawn in the main characters’ game. She actually thinks both guys are into her.】 【Too bad. The two male leads don’t even know they have the exact same idea: find a practice partner who’s safe and they know well, all to get ready for the main character.】 【Heehee, and when they find out they’ve both been ‘practicing’ with the side piece, that’s when they’ll finally team up to practice with the Siren!】 【OMG! Can we fast forward? I can’t wait!】 【Girl, your thirsty is showing!】 【Whatever! This is the part! The side piece goes to the restaurant and runs into the main characters. She’ll run off crying, and that’s when Rhys makes his move and they have their big ‘practice’ session!】 My fingers paused over the screen. My phone rang. Hearing Rhys’s gentle voice, I let out a soft breath. “Rhys, give me a minute.” “I just need to do my makeup, okay?” Have you ever felt the air in a room turn to ice? Rhys was peeling a prawn for me when they arrived. Caleb, with her. Caleb placed her handbag on the chair beside him, its metal clasp making a soft, expensive click. The next second, our eyes met. All four of us. The feed erupted in a dense wall of text. 【Oh damn, is the legendary pissing contest about to start?!】 【The Siren is here! The two male leads can’t even see the side piece. Stupid girl, still trying to compete with the main character for Caleb’s attention.】 【I just want to tell her to stop trying. The Siren’s allure is something no man can resist. God, this author writes such perfect wish-fulfillment. This setup is everything!】 My gaze landed on the ‘main character’s’ face. I was just curious. What made a species I’d only ever read about in novels different from a regular person? Stella’s skin was luminous. Under the soft restaurant lighting, it seemed to glow. The ends of her wavy hair cascaded over her pale shoulders, exuding an effortless sensuality. I had to hand it to her. A main character like this was, objectively, a masterpiece. Luckily, knowing I couldn’t compete on hardware, I had gone with a clean, no-makeup makeup look. Her eyes met mine, and in them was a faint flicker of hostility that only another woman would recognize. “Rhys, and this is—?” Before Rhys could answer, I widened my eyes innocently. “Oh, me? I’m basically the little sister he never had.” The feed exploded. 【HOLY MOTHER, WHAT IS SHE DOING?! I thought this was a showdown! What is this saccharine, fake-ass response? I’m gonna puke!】 【Seriously, does she actually think she’s pretty or something?!】 Beneath the scrolling text, I saw Stella’s expression freeze for a fraction of a second. Three beats later, she produced a gentle, warm smile. “Oh, a little sister. Rhys hardly ever mentions you…” She paused, her tone playful. “Keeping you a secret. We should punish you for that.” I didn’t take the bait. I turned to Caleb. “Caleb, honey, are you on a date with your new girlfriend?” At the two adjacent tables, every face, except for mine, was a mask of complex emotions. Caleb frowned. “Lane, you’re taking this too far.” Caleb’s response was strategically vague. He hadn’t confirmed his relationship with Stella, but he hadn’t confirmed mine, either. He was leaving all his options open. Even the feed was buzzing that, according to the plot, Rhys was supposed to use this opportunity to get me into bed, and then Caleb would come back later to smooth things over, explaining his words meant nothing. But here’s the thing. There is no childhood friend more considerate than me. As the waiter approached, I tapped the table. “Excuse me? Could you push our tables together?” I pointed at Rhys and smiled brightly. “He’s paying.” The table merger went off without a hitch. My two childhood friends immediately focused all their attention on Stella. When the abalone appetizer arrived, it was cut into two perfect halves. Both men offered their plates to her. Stella looked up, catching my eye. Every gesture was laced with charm. “Rhys and Caleb are so sweet. But I can’t possibly eat all of this. Little sister, you can have the extra one.” I tilted my head, looking at her. “The extra abalone? No, I’ll pass. Someone’s picking me up later to get something else to eat.” Caleb froze, his hand hovering in mid-air. “Lane, stop with the passive-aggressive act.” Rhys’s brow furrowed as well. “Lane, can you just drop it and eat your dinner?” 【Ooh, the two male leads defending their queen! So hot! They know they still need the side piece to practice on later, but when the Siren is around, everything else comes second!】 【*’Someone’s picking me up to get something else to eat’ ~*】 【Who is she kidding? Both of her guys are right here, and they won’t even give her a second glance for the Siren’s sake. She’s bluffing about being picked up. How is she gonna walk this back?】 【Get ready for the side piece’s most epic moment of public humiliation.】 I dabbed my lips with a napkin. I smiled sweetly back at Rhys. “I’m afraid I can’t. “The person picking me up? He’s here.”

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