Category: English

Everyone said he only married me to spite my sister. But when he died in a horrific car crash, he left his entire estate to me. Along with a single voice recorder. When I clicked play, his deep, raspy voice filled the room. He said: “Harper… is it possible that you liked me too, even just a little?” Years too late, I finally saw the overwhelming, passionate love he had hidden beneath his icy exterior. When I opened my eyes again, I had been reborn. My adoptive mother was gripping my hands tightly, sobbing. “Harper, please. Will you go to prison in your sister’s place? Please?” 1 Before I turned sixteen, I was the pampered princess of the Sterling family. I had loving parents, an older brother who spoiled me, and a carefree life. But when Chloe showed up at our door with a DNA test, I learned the truth. The nurses had switched us at birth. She was the biological daughter. I was just the cuckoo who had stolen her rightful place in the nest. I wanted to leave. But my biological parents had already passed away, and Mrs. Sterling couldn’t bear to see me become an orphan. So, they officially adopted me. My adoptive parents treated me well. My brother didn’t give me the cold shoulder, and Chloe never made things difficult for me. I was incredibly grateful. But years later, Chloe got into a physical altercation backstage with a co-star, Mia Thorne. During the struggle, Mia fell down a flight of stairs and slipped into a coma. There were no security cameras in that stairwell. But someone had to take the fall. And I just happened to be there, witnessing the whole thing. My adoptive mother came to me in tears, begging me to take the blame for Chloe. Chloe knelt in front of me, sobbing, slapping her own face, and apologizing profusely. The whole family wept as if their hearts were breaking. So, I nodded. I took the fall. I went to prison. I suffered through unimaginable hell. At first, the Sterlings came to visit me. They would cry, looking at me with guilt and apologies. But slowly, the visits stopped. No one came anymore. Once, the warden organized an activity asking us to write down our plans for when we got out. I thought about it for a long time before carefully writing: [When I get out, I want to see my mom and dad.] My cellmate saw it and laughed at how simple my wish was. “Of course your mom and dad will come pick you up! Why wouldn’t you be able to see them?” I just smiled and didn’t argue. But when the day of my release finally came, there was no one. Only Mr. Sterling’s assistant, who drove me to the airport and handed me a large check. He didn’t say a word. But I understood everything. I didn’t have a mom and dad anymore. The Sterling family had abandoned me. 2 I didn’t take the money. Not because I was trying to act noble or proud. I just didn’t want to owe the Sterlings anything ever again. They raised me for twenty years. I spent five years in prison for their daughter. We were even. I rented a tiny, run-down apartment and ran my feet ragged until I finally found a job that didn’t care about my criminal record. But just two weeks in, I was fired. I begged for an explanation. The manager finally stammered out, “You messed with someone you shouldn’t have.” I froze. I couldn’t say a single word. Someone I shouldn’t have messed with. Other than the Sterlings, who else could it be? That day, I walked through the city with my bag clutched to my chest. A cold, misty rain fell, the wind blowing it directly into my face. As I passed the downtown plaza, the giant jumbotron was broadcasting Chloe’s live award ceremony. I stopped and looked up. On stage, she was glamorous, radiating beauty and success. The camera panned, and I saw Mr. and Mrs. Sterling looking up at her with tears in their eyes. They looked at her like she was their most precious treasure, their eyes brimming with love. For some reason, I suddenly remembered my adoptive mother’s promise during her first prison visit. Looking at how dangerously thin I had become, she cried and swore to me, “Harper, when you get out, Mom will take care of you for the rest of your life. Mom loves you.” But the last time I saw her, two years ago, her face held nothing but faint guilt. She said, “Harper, Chloe is engaged to Roman Vance now. She really loves him. When you get out, please leave the state. We can’t risk the Vance family finding out about the past.” Roman Vance. The untouchable heir to the Vance empire. We had a TV in the prison common room. I had heard all about the epic, fairy-tale romance between Chloe and Roman. Everyone said Roman was a notorious playboy, but Chloe had tamed him. He stepped into the entertainment industry—a world he usually despised—just to pave the way for her. He fed her endless resources, produced her movies, and personally handed her awards. Sometimes, I envied Chloe. I envied that she had parents who loved her and a boyfriend who favored her above all else. In just her twenties, she had everything: a soaring career and perfect love. Not like me. No parents, no career, no lover. Nobody loved me. 3 As for marrying Roman Vance, that was a complete accident. After getting fired, I moved to a smaller town and got a job as a waitress at a diner. It was a busy night. I don’t know how he found me, but when he walked in, I was serving beers to a table. One of the men had too much to drink and grabbed me inappropriately. I scowled and slapped him across the face. Enraged, the man kicked me hard, sending me crashing to the floor. Glass shattered. Hot food and beer spilled all over me. It burned. The man still wasn’t satisfied. He cursed at me and raised his fist to hit me again. But the next second, the diner went dead silent. I opened my eyes and saw a man standing over my attacker. Roman Vance had eyes as bright as stars. He smirked, a lazy, insincere curve of his lips. “Harper, you really are here.” I got up, brushing the food scraps off my clothes, nodded at him, and tried to walk past him to leave. But I didn’t even make it two steps. His voice rang out behind me. “Seeing as you’re a complete mess right now, do you want to marry me?” I whipped around, staring at him in shock. “Have you finally lost your mind?” “I’m dead serious.” Roman looked me up and down. His eyes were dark, devoid of emotion, but his tone was steady. “I’ll be honest. Your sister dumped me. I’m pissed off. And you’ve been driven into the dirt by the Sterlings. You could say we’re a miserable alliance of victims.” The streetlamp outside flickered yellow, buzzed twice, and burned out completely. I couldn’t see his face clearly. I could only hear his soft scoff and see the glowing red tip of the cigarette between his lips. “Besides, you have absolutely nothing to your name right now. Marrying me isn’t a loss for you. What are you afraid of?” I thought about it. I didn’t say a word. He just waited quietly. Until a cold gust of wind blew past, making me shiver instinctively. Roman took off his custom-tailored trench coat and draped it over my shoulders. In that instant, my senses were flooded with his faint, clean scent of tobacco and cedar. I said, “Okay.” 4 When the wedding news broke, everyone was shocked. They all said Roman only married me to spite Chloe. At our wedding, when Roman said “I do,” I noticed Chloe in the audience. Her eyes were red from crying, and she eventually lost her composure and fled the venue. I glanced at my new husband, but he just smiled. He didn’t even spare her a single glance. It was as if he had never loved her. As if he truly didn’t care. After we got married, Roman treated me incredibly well. He made me his personal secretary, keeping us tethered together every hour of the day. When I asked him why, he just gave me a flirty smirk. “I can’t just leave a gorgeous woman alone at home. What if a thief steals you away? I’d be taking a massive loss.” I laughed and called him ridiculous. I didn’t bother arguing with him. Those years in prison had taken a severe toll. I had suffered too much. My body couldn’t handle any stress. A common cold or cough for a normal person would turn into a severe illness for me. Roman flew in top specialists from all over the world to treat me. When I finally started getting better, he sat by my hospital bed, holding my hand with intense, devout seriousness. “Harper, I bought you. Your life belongs to me now. You are not allowed to die before me.” It sounded like a child’s demand. But seeing the hidden, bitter fear in his eyes, I nodded. I didn’t understand why he looked so heartbroken. But I had long learned not to ask questions, not to pry. “Okay,” I promised. “Till we’re old and gray.” But in the end, the one who broke the promise… Wasn’t me. It was Roman. 5 “Mrs. Vance, Mr. Vance was involved in a severe car accident at 3:10 AM. Resuscitation efforts were unsuccessful. “I’m so sorry for your loss.” When I pushed open the doors to the morgue, Roman’s parents were already weeping uncontrollably. I looked at Roman’s pale, bloodless face. In my heart, I could only think: God favored him so much. He gave him wealth, looks, and power that others could only dream of. So why was God so stingy to only give him thirty-four years? What a tragedy. What a tragic waste. I organized Roman’s funeral single-handedly. Throughout our five years of marriage, many people had bet against us. Chloe, driven by a twisted mix of love and hate, was always waiting to watch me become a joke. But no one expected Roman to leave every single asset, every share of his company, entirely to me. His parents had no objections. When they left the reading of the will, their backs were hunched. The vibrant energy they once had was gone forever. A week later, Roman’s attorney, Mr. Davis, brought me the final estate transfer documents. Before leaving, he handed me a digital voice recorder. “This was among Mr. Vance’s personal effects. It was damaged in the crash, but we had it restored. I believe you should hear it, ma’am.” 6 “Harper.” From the recorder, the man’s voice was cool and clear, though mixed with static that made it sound even huskier. “I didn’t marry you to spite Chloe. I married you because I loved you.” I froze. But inside, I felt a strange calm. As if I had known all along. Roman let out a soft laugh. “You probably forgot long ago, but we met way before that diner. “Back in college, you were the untouchable straight-A goddess. You were brilliant, the absolute favorite of all the professors. My own mentor used to talk about you constantly. Every time he finished chatting with your professor, he’d come back, puff out his cheeks, and say—” “Roman, I hate you now. Stay away from me.” He imitated his mentor’s voice. It was incredibly cute. I let out an involuntary laugh. But a second later, the smile faded. Roman continued. “I really hated you back then. But I couldn’t stop looking at you. Guess I was just a glutton for punishment, huh? “But then… you went to prison. For intentional assault. “I didn’t believe it. I was determined to investigate. But it was a shame… the Sterlings wiped the evidence perfectly clean. So, I targeted Chloe.” Oh. The legendary, epic romance between Roman and Chloe that the whole world envied. It was just his excuse to get close to her and find the truth about my imprisonment. But Roman didn’t anticipate that Chloe’s lips would be sealed tight. Still, he eventually found traces of the truth. I suddenly remembered a day before our wedding. Roman had come to me, looking incredibly excited. “Harper, do you want revenge?” “No,” I had shaken my head. “We’re even now.” Years later, I finally understood. He must have found the truth that day. He investigated for my sake. And for my sake, he buried the truth again. It was all for me. My eyes trembled violently. My whole body shook uncontrollably. Tear after tear fell down my face. 7 “But anyway, my acting skills must have been absolutely stellar. I fooled everyone. I even fooled you. “Do you know how cute your face was when I asked you to marry me outside that diner? Never mind, I’m rambling again. “Actually, there’s always been one thing I wanted to ask you—” Roman coughed. He was usually so cold and arrogant, but right now, his voice carried the shy hesitation of a teenage boy. “Harper, is it possible… that you liked me too, even a little bit? “I guess I won’t get to hear your answer in this life. Tell me when I come find you in the next one.” Through the audio, I heard the piercing screech of tires braking. The screaming of a crowd. And then, his final words, clear as day. He said: “Harper, I really… really… really… loved you.” His final syllable even carried a hint of a smile. The emotions I had been suppressing completely collapsed in that moment. In the empty living room, the bouquet of lilies he had brought home a few days ago still sat on the table. I had always loved lilies. He had presented them to me like a treasured prize. “Harper, don’t they smell amazing? I picked every single stem myself. “From now on, I’ll be the only one to change the flowers in our house.” Back then, the soft affection in his eyes was like gentle starlight. How could I say no to him? But the man who made the promise was a liar. He left first. And he took the last trace of life from those lilies with him. The warm sunlight filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, landing on my shoulders. I reached up to touch it, but I only felt freezing cold. Today, finally, I saw the monumental, secret love Roman had hidden beneath the ice. But… it was a little too late. 8 Attorney Davis saw Mrs. Vance again a week later. He came to pick up the signed estate documents. He had followed Roman for many years, so he had met Mrs. Vance plenty of times. In his memory, she was always dignified, wearing a gentle smile, like a jade statue—coldly observing the chaos of the world. She didn’t show extreme joy, or extreme anger, or intense emotion. Even when she learned of Roman’s death, she only froze for a moment. Her eyes didn’t even turn red. Roman had treated her so perfectly. Yet all he got in return was a single tear. Mr. Davis often felt it wasn’t worth it for his boss. But when he stepped into the living room this time, he saw Mrs. Vance clutching a bouquet of withered, dead lilies. Her face was paler than falling snow. Seeing him, she didn’t even offer a polite smile. She just stated coldly: “Mr. Davis, donate all his assets to the orphanages. “I don’t want his money.” There was no room for negotiation. Before he left, Mr. Davis couldn’t hold back his question. “Ma’am, did you ever love Mr. Vance?” Mrs. Vance just smiled. She didn’t answer. Many years later, Mrs. Vance became a renowned philanthropist, heavily reported on by the media. She sponsored countless orphans. The next time he saw her was on her deathbed. She was only forty-five, but her hair was entirely white. At that moment, she was looking out the window, as if she saw someone waiting for her. Her face carried the innocent, shy sweetness of a young girl. She said: “I loved him. “I’ve always loved him.” 9 “Harper, Mom is begging you, please save your sister! She’s so young, how can she go to prison?!” “Harper, I know I was wrong! I didn’t mean to do it! I don’t want to go to jail! I’m a massive star—if I go to prison, my whole life is ruined!” As I woke up from the darkness, a cacophony of crying and screaming rang in my ears. My head throbbed violently. I slowly opened my eyes and saw the scene before me. Chloe was kneeling on the floor, sobbing hysterically. Mr. Sterling was holding her, comforting her with a heartbroken expression. And Mrs. Sterling was gripping my hands in a death grip. Her face was covered in tears. Her voice was choked with sobs, but she was entirely serious: “Harper, will you go to prison in your sister’s place? Please?” I stared at her in dead silence. She took it as encouragement. Mrs. Sterling gritted her teeth. “Harper, there were no cameras backstage. It was just you and Chloe. The paparazzi only got a blurry photo of someone’s back. They can’t tell who it is! If you just admit that you accidentally pushed Mia, the police won’t dig any deeper. “I promise you, once you’re inside, Mom will pay off everyone. I won’t let you suffer. And when you get out, the Sterling family will take care of you for the rest of your life.” Right. She said the exact same thing in my past life. But her promise only had a shelf life of one year. Once the promise expired, I was kicked out of solitary confinement into general population. Because I was pretty, I attracted the bullying and vengeance of the other inmates. I was beaten, humiliated, and even poisoned. It was a living hell. But no one ever came to see me. It wasn’t until I was temporarily released for medical treatment due to sodium nitrite poisoning from the prison food that Mrs. Sterling finally came to my hospital bed. That day, she looked down at me from her high horse, her expression faintly impatient. “It’s a prison, Harper, not a resort. Suffering a little is unavoidable. You can’t be this dramatic. “Chloe has a business trip overseas soon. I’m worried about her. I probably won’t have time to visit you anymore.” After that day, I never saw her again. Looking at Mrs. Sterling’s tear-stained face now, I believed she meant what she was saying in this exact moment. But genuine feelings change easily. Her guilt and remorse would eventually warp into deep, resentful fear of me as time went on. I gently pulled my hands out of her grip. “No.” Mrs. Sterling looked horrified. She probably never imagined that I—obedient, sheep-like Harper—would ever refuse her. But when I spoke again, my voice was serious and unwavering. “Mom, I am grateful that you raised me for twenty years. But I don’t want to sacrifice my entire future for it. You can call me selfish, you can call me an ungrateful brat. But I will not take the fall for her.” I was reborn. I didn’t come back to repeat the same nightmare. In my last life, Roman Vance saved me. In this life, I was going to save myself. And then— I was going to walk to Roman’s side with a clean record and my head held high. 10 My refusal threw Mr. Sterling into a rage. He screamed that I was an ungrateful wretch who had leeched off the Sterling family for years but refused to offer a single shred of help when they needed it. Mrs. Sterling and Chloe cried as if the world was ending. When they realized threats and tears wouldn’t work, they grew terrified I would run away. So, they locked me in my bedroom. Only my brother, Asher, remained silent from beginning to end. Just like in my past life. Mrs. Sterling confiscated my phone, but she didn’t know I had a burner. I turned it on. The news that Mia Thorne was in a coma from a severe injury was already trending at number one. The clues were scarce. The paparazzi only had one blurry photo of a back. The caption read: “Chloe Sterling and her sister were the only ones alone with Mia Thorne for a period of time.” The police were probably already on their way to our house. I flipped open my burner phone and instinctively typed out a phone number. Staring at the familiar digits, I froze. But ultimately, I didn’t press call. I didn’t know why. I was a little scared. Scared that the person on the other end wouldn’t be the man I knew. Scared that this was all just a dream, and if I woke up, I’d never see him again. In my past life, after Roman died, I kept paying his phone bill every month. In the dead of night, I would send him text messages. Sometimes mundane things, sometimes complaints. And I would always get the exact same reply: [Harper, I’m here.] It was an auto-reply. He had set it up before he died. Tell me, how could a man be so cruel? So cruel as to grip my heart so tightly that I wouldn’t be able to forget him for ten, twenty, thirty years. I stood up and pulled back the curtains. The warm sunlight poured through the glass, wrapping around me, but carrying a hint of chill. I saw the police cruisers pulling up outside. I saw Mr. Sterling’s dark, warning glare directed up at my window. My hands shook as I finally typed out a text and hit send. [Roman, can you come save me?]

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My sister bound herself to the “The Lazier I Am, The Luckier I Get” System, and forced me to bind with the “The Harder I Work, The Unluckier I Get” System. Because of this, she slacked off every single day, yet remained the perfect, flawless goddess everyone adored. Meanwhile, I studied until the dead of night, yet remained an overweight, clumsy loser. My sister told me that in this lifetime, my only purpose was to exist as a pathetic backdrop to make her look better. But three months before the final college entrance exams… The System malfunctioned. 1 Everyone always said that Selene and I didn’t look like sisters at all. She was beautiful, brilliant, and talented in piano, painting, chess, and ballet. She always ranked first in our grade and was our parents’ absolute pride and joy. I was the exact opposite. Overweight, slow-witted, and incapable of doing anything right. Whenever my parents looked at me, their eyes were full of deep disappointment. “If only Astra were even half as excellent as her sister.” Whenever that happened, Selene would gently stop our parents from scolding me. She would walk up to me, smiling softly, and offer her encouragement. “Astra, as long as you work hard, I’m sure you can be just as amazing as I am.” When she said that, I never understood the strange, unreadable glint flickering in her eyes. 2 For a long time, I actually believed her. I thought that if I just worked hard enough, I could close the gap between us. So, to improve my grades, I stayed up studying and doing practice tests until 2 AM every night. To look better, I went jogging and jumped rope every day after school, and practically starved myself at dinner. But none of it worked. My grades were still dead last in the class. My body only grew heavier. My parents, who used to dote on me, started looking at me with utter despair. “Astra really is a lost cause.” “Sigh… if we only had Selene, our lives would be so much easier right now…” During the holidays, whenever my parents bought gifts, they only bought them for Selene. When I was younger, I used to foolishly run up to my dad and pull on his sleeve. “Dad, where’s mine? Did you forget me?” My dad would shake my hand off, looking annoyed. “This is a reward for Selene’s excellence. She got first place and won a huge award. What did you do?” When I had a dangerously high fever, my parents left me home alone to attend Selene’s parent-teacher conference. Those conferences weren’t even important, but they loved basking in the endless praise the teachers showered on “Selene’s parents.” Even my friends slowly started to hate me. No matter how hard I tried to hold onto them, they would inevitably abandon me to hang out with Selene. Eventually, the entire world revolved around Selene, and she was the only person left who was “nice” to me. Whenever I felt deeply defeated and wanted to give up, she would always be right there, encouraging me with everything she had. “Maybe you just aren’t working hard enough. Or maybe your methods are wrong,” she would say gently. “Why don’t you try a different approach?” People around us would sigh. “Selene, you’re just too kind. You’re the only person in the world who hasn’t given up on your sister.” “Seriously, if I were a natural-born loser like Astra, I would have killed myself and hoped to respawn with better stats.” “Don’t talk about my sister like that!” Selene would frown and scold them playfully, then grab my hand. “Astra, promise me you’ll never stop trying. Okay?” I would nod forcefully, and Selene would smile. I always thought her smile was beautiful. Until I discovered her secret. 3 It was a quiet night during my senior year of high school when I found out Selene was bound to a “System.” I was hiding out on the balcony when I overheard Selene talking to it. “Astra is such an idiot. She’s up studying past midnight again, and she’s still going to rank dead last on the next exam. I’m dying laughing. “Looking back, Mom and Dad picked the perfect names. I’m Selene, the moon, and she’s Astra, a tiny star. Stars only exist to make the moon look brighter. “Thank you, System. Thank you for being with me these past twelve years.” It felt like a bomb went off in my head. Suddenly, memories from the past flooded my mind. Twelve years ago, Selene and I were six years old. Back then, I was pretty and smart. In kindergarten, I was the one singing and dancing on stage, and I helped the teacher clean up after class. Selene was lazy. She had no interest in singing, hated practicing dance, and basically learned nothing. When guests came over, everyone would crowd around me, asking me to perform, praising me for being so bright and talented. They would look at Selene, who stood to the side knowing how to do nothing, and say, “Your sister is so amazing, Selene! You need to work hard to catch up!” Maybe that was the exact moment Selene started to hate the concept of “hard work.” When her System appeared, she decisively chose the “The Lazier I Am, The Luckier I Get” trait for herself. And for me, she chose “The Harder I Work, The Unluckier I Get.” And just like that, over the course of the next twelve years, exactly as she wished, the gap between us widened. She put in zero effort but became more and more perfect. I gave everything I had, only to become more and more miserable. … That night, after learning her secret, I quietly slipped away. I sat outside in the freezing night air wearing only a thin sweater for three hours. My body was numb from the cold, but all I could see in my mind was the smile Selene wore every time she encouraged me to “work harder.” When I was little, I never knew what to call that strange glint in her eyes when she smiled at me. Now I knew. It was called pure malice. The sister I trusted the most. The sister who told me to never give up. It turned out she was just using my blood, sweat, and tears as fuel to power her own glamorous, perfect life. She was the main character of this world. And my only function was to stand in the shadows forever, serving as her pathetic background prop. —But I refused to accept that. I was going to change my destiny. … With nothing left to lose, I thought of a plan and sneaked into the school’s broadcasting room. I put my hand on the microphone switch and started chanting in my head. “Calling System. Calling System.” There was no answer. After all, it was Selene’s System, not mine. But I knew that if it was an otherworldly power, it had to be able to monitor my thoughts. “Calling System—it’s fine if you ignore me, but do you see the PA microphone in my hand? I’m assuming your existence is supposed to be a secret, right? Here’s the deal: if you don’t respond in 60 seconds, I’m going to broadcast your existence on a loop to the entire school. Then I’m going to post it all over social media and write letters to scientific research facilities, telling them to come dissect Selene and her little parasitic System… “60, 59, 58…” I only got to 50 before a burst of static buzzed in my head. Then, a weak, panicked voice spoke up. “…Please don’t do that. No one will believe you anyway.” “How about we find out?” “…What do you want?” “Swap my System with my sister’s.” “I can’t do that. Once my functions are set, they can’t be altered.” I immediately reached to flip the microphone switch. “…Wait! Stop! Have mercy!” the System wailed. “How about this… what if I just do nothing?” “Nothing?” “Right. Even though I can’t alter the functions, I can… malfunction…” I thought about it. That meant, starting today, I would finally get exactly what I worked for. And my sister’s luck from being lazy would vanish. I paused. “Add one more condition.” “What?” “Keep this a secret from Selene. “Let her keep thinking this world is still revolving around her.” 4 The next day, I arrived at school early, just like always. To build up my stamina, I ran two laps around the track every morning. As I jogged slowly around the field, I saw Selene sitting in the bleachers eating breakfast with two of her friends. “Selene, your sister is running again.” “Look at her fat jiggling everywhere when she runs, hahahaha.” Selene replied dismissively, “My sister just has terrible genetics.” Her two friends agreed, their voices filled with envy. “Ugh, I’m so jealous of you, Selene! You eat non-stop all day, chocolates, chips, zero exercise, but you have huge boobs, a tiny waist, long legs, and abs!” “You totally hit the genetic lottery. You just don’t gain weight.” “Why didn’t your sister get those genes? She runs all day and doesn’t lose a pound.” I ignored their mocking and kept running. Starting today, my running wasn’t useless anymore. Unlike before, where I only felt sheer exhaustion, this time I could feel the heat radiating from my forehead and the sweat pouring down my face. My calories were burning. My fat was melting. I was going to get thin. After my run, I grabbed my backpack to head to class. As if remembering something, I turned back and looked up at Selene, who was lounging in the bleachers. “Sister, don’t be late for class.” There was two seconds of silence in the bleachers, followed by a burst of raucous laughter. “Selene, your sister is actually telling you to go to class.” “Even the Dean of Students doesn’t care if you go to class, and she’s trying to boss you around?” “Get lost, loser. You don’t understand the world of geniuses.” It was true. The teachers at our school turned a blind eye to Selene skipping class. The reason was simple: she skipped class, never did homework, never studied, but every time there was a major exam, she always ranked #1 in the entire city. But from now on… she wouldn’t be so lucky. I shrugged and headed to my classroom. I couldn’t wait for first period to begin. The feeling of knowledge actually sticking in my brain was incredible! I soaked up the lessons like a sponge, eager to go home and tackle practice exams. But on my way home, I ran into Selene and the school’s resident golden boy, Sebastian Reed. Sebastian’s luxury sports car was parked nearby. It looked like he was inviting Selene to a party. When Selene saw me walking by, she immediately stepped forward and grabbed my hand. “I’m not going. I have to walk my sister home.” Sebastian was furious. He glared at me. “Astra, did you tell Selene she couldn’t go? “How many more obstacles are you going to throw in our way just because of that stupid marriage contract?” Oh, I almost forgot. This guy—Sebastian Reed, the heir to the Reed empire, the guy Selene was secretly obsessed with but pretended not to care about—was technically my fiancé. 5 When I was five, I called 911 when Sebastian’s grandfather had a heart attack, saving his life. Out of gratitude, Mr. Reed arranged an unofficial engagement between his grandson and me. Back then, Sebastian treated me really well. He would protect me when other kids bullied me. He would carry me on his back when I scraped my knee. When the other kids teased him, calling us a married couple, he wouldn’t get mad. He even shared his snacks and toys with me, saying very seriously, “Since we’re going to get married, what’s mine is yours.” Later, Sebastian moved out of state for school. He only returned when we were in high school. The day I found out he transferred to our school, I ran out excitedly to greet him. That day, Sebastian was surrounded by his new, popular friends. When they saw me, they started cheering and teasing, “Hey Sebastian, your fiancée is here!” In the past, Sebastian would have laughed along with jokes like that. But this time, his face was as cold as ice. He took one look at me and turned his head away in disgust. “Shut up. I barely know her.” After school that day, I locked myself in my room and cried for a long time. Selene, noticing my sadness, immediately ran in to comfort me. “Nobody hates someone who treats them well,” her voice was soothing, almost hypnotic. “If you just try harder to show him you care, I’m sure he’ll be nice to you again.” I believed her. So when Sebastian injured himself playing basketball, I brought him a first-aid kit. And what happened next was… Sebastian took the entire bottle of red antiseptic and poured it directly over my head in front of everyone. He looked down at me, dripping red liquid, a cruel smirk on his lips. “There’s nothing I hate more in this world than a desperate, clinging loser. “Astra, stop making me sick.” After I ran away crying, I told Selene what happened. She frowned and blamed me. “You just used the wrong approach. You made him mad. I suggest you write him an apology letter.” I didn’t want to write one. So Selene ran to our parents and told them I had offended Sebastian and ruined the Reed family alliance. My parents panicked. They forced me to write the letter and hand-deliver it to Sebastian. Sebastian stood in front of the entire class and read the letter out loud like it was a comedy routine. “What does this even mean, ‘I don’t want to ruin the relationship between our families’? Astra, are you trying to use my grandfather to threaten me? “Newsflash: I’m not afraid of anything.” That day, Sebastian went home demanding to cancel the engagement, only backing down after his grandfather beat him with a cane. But his hatred for me only grew deeper. When my parents heard about it, they sighed endlessly. “If only Sebastian were engaged to our Selene instead.” Selene played the understanding daughter. “Mom, Dad, I would never steal my sister’s man. I won’t do anything.” And she truly did nothing. But Sebastian became addicted to her. “Astra’s sister is so pretty, and she actually has a personality,” he’d say. Sebastian started chasing after Selene. The more she ignored him, the more curious he became. The colder she was, the more he felt she was unique. In short, Selene did absolutely nothing, yet effortlessly captured the frantic obsession of the Reed empire’s heir. Everyone said she wasn’t just a natural-born genius, she was a natural-born goddess. It wasn’t until I learned about the System that I finally understood Selene’s strategy. In my relationship with Sebastian, the harder I tried, the more my “unlucky” trait made him despise me. And the colder she was, the more she rejected him, her “lucky” trait made Sebastian fall deeper into obsession. This way, my engagement to Sebastian would inevitably fall apart, and she could step in to marry into the Reed family. Just like right now, as Selene continued to glare coldly at Sebastian. “I don’t want to go to your birthday party. And also—stop coming to find me.” With that, she turned to walk away. In the past, this move always worked perfectly for Selene. According to their usual dynamic, Sebastian’s obsession would spike. He would block her path, begging her to get in the car until she finally relented with a stoic face, sliding into the passenger seat of his luxury car while basking in the envious stares of every student around them. To give Sebastian enough time to stop her, Selene intentionally walked very slowly. And Sebastian did speak up. “If you don’t want to go, then don’t.” He scratched his head, sounding irritated. “Always making it seem like I’m begging you. It gets exhausting.” I watched Selene’s footsteps grind to a violent halt. She couldn’t help but look back, staring at Sebastian in utter disbelief. Just like how my body wouldn’t instantly become skinny the second the System turned off, Sebastian’s feelings for Selene didn’t vanish instantly either. When he saw her abruptly turn around, his foul mood immediately brightened. “See? You actually did want to go. You’re just playing hard to get,” Sebastian smirked, pulling open the car door. “Alright, you win. Get in.” If Selene had gotten in the car right then, her relationship with Sebastian probably would have continued to progress. But Selene just assumed Sebastian’s attitude shift was the System working its magic again. So she let out a cold laugh, putting on her icy-goddess arrogance. “Sebastian, I know your family is rich and powerful, and every girl fawns over you. But I’m not like them. Don’t think I’ll fall for you that easily.” With that, Selene turned and walked away. Her face wore a look of absolute certainty. She knew that her rejection would only make Sebastian think she was even more special. But actually, if Selene had looked back at that moment, she would have seen that Sebastian’s expression wasn’t one of intrigued admiration. On the contrary, his face had turned completely dark. Sliding into the driver’s seat, Sebastian scowled and muttered to his friend in the passenger seat: “Who the hell does she think she is?” 6 Unfortunately, Selene, who was already walking away, didn’t hear Sebastian’s comment. So she remained happily trapped in her beautiful illusion, convinced everything was going perfectly. Even though the System’s responses had become noticeably vague and evasive lately, she didn’t care at all. She continued skipping her study sessions, continued gorging herself on junk food, and continued watching me study late into the night. She offered her gentle encouragement while that mocking, malicious glint danced in her eyes. She didn’t realize that everything was quietly shifting. Soon, the first major city-wide mock exam arrived. The moment the test papers were handed out, I looked at the questions and felt a surge of hot blood rushing through my chest. I could feel it—every ounce of effort I had ever put in hadn’t been wasted. All those vocabulary words I memorized late at night, all those practice problems I solved… they were all stored perfectly in my brain. The only difference was that previously, due to the System’s interference, the knowledge points were locked behind thick mental walls. I couldn’t connect them. But right now, all those walls were shattered. Everything finally clicked. As I looked at the questions, every single one felt incredibly familiar. I had encountered variations of them thousands of times during those endless nights of studying. Now, they were just presenting themselves in a slightly different format, but they were old friends. This was the true meaning of “hard work paying off.” I breezed through the questions one by one. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Selene, sitting diagonally in front of me, rapidly filling in her scantron bubble sheet. Selene always finished her exams much faster than everyone else. I used to think it was because she was exceptionally brilliant. Only later did I realize it was the “luck” granted to her by the System. Whether it was multiple-choice or fill-in-the-blank, whatever answer she randomly guessed turned out to be right. On essays, she could scribble down absolute nonsense and still get partial credit for her “steps.” With the overwhelming power of the “The Lazier I Am, The Luckier I Get” System, even if she didn’t know half the material, she would still score incredibly high. Clearly, Selene was still taking the test exactly as she always did. Soon, the bell rang, and we handed in our papers. Outside the testing room, everyone gathered in the hallway to compare answers. A crowd formed around Selene. “Goddess! Question 8 on the multiple-choice was so hard. Did you put C or D?” Selene replied casually, “C.” The students who picked C cheered immediately, while the D group groaned in despair. Everyone trusted Selene’s authority. As the undefeated academic queen, her answers were basically gospel. I stood nearby with my backpack and asked quietly, “Why is it C?” Selene paused and looked over at me. She probably couldn’t fathom why a loser who failed the easy questions had the audacity to ask about the hardest one. She said impatiently, “Even if I explained it, you wouldn’t understand.” Selene’s friends immediately chimed in to mock me. “Exactly. The calculation is way too complex. With Astra’s brain, there’s no way she’d get it.” “Focus on getting the basic questions right first. You’re never going to get points on a question like that anyway.” I pressed my lips together and sneered internally. The correct answer was absolutely D. Selene had no idea how to solve it. She had just blindly guessed, fully expecting that, just like before, whatever she wrote down would magically become the right answer. I looked at Selene’s aloof, falsely confident expression, feeling utterly amused. But on the outside, I just took a timid step back. “Oh… I see…” Suddenly, someone behind me gently supported my elbow. It was the class president, Peyton Clark. Peyton was also a brilliant student. She had tied for first place with Selene once before. With a polite, investigative tone, she asked Selene, “Selene, I calculated it three times and kept getting D. Could you explain why it’s C?” The students who had chosen D immediately perked up, refusing to give up hope. “Yeah, Goddess, walk us through it!” “Even if I got it wrong, I at least want to know why.” Selene’s face turned pale. She couldn’t explain it. Because she just picked C. After a moment of silence, Selene spoke coldly. “I’m tired. When the answer key comes out, read the explanation yourself or ask a teacher. I’m not obligated to tutor you.” With that, she turned and walked away. In the past, Selene had always acted cold and dismissive toward her classmates, but she was still incredibly popular. But this time, Peyton frowned first. “I just wanted to ask her a question. Just because she has good grades doesn’t mean she has to be so rude.” Other students whispered in agreement. “Yeah, Peyton, your grades are amazing too, and you don’t act arrogant like her.” As they murmured, they started walking toward the cafeteria. I planned to go eat by myself, but out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a bloodstain blooming on the back of Peyton’s pants. I hesitated for a second, then hurried over to Peyton and quietly whispered to her. … In the restroom, I handed Peyton a pad from my bag. “You can tie your school jacket around your waist, and I brought an extra pair of sweatpants. If you don’t mind borrowing them…” My tone was a bit timid. After all, in the past, whenever I tried to help someone, it always backfired. But this time, things seemed different. Peyton looked at me deeply, a hint of confusion in her eyes. “Why did I always think you were so hard to get along with?” She scratched her head. “That’s so weird. You’re actually really nice.” Explaining the truth was too complicated, so I just smiled and turned to leave. But Peyton called out to me. “Are you heading to the cafeteria too?” I turned back and received my first genuinely friendly smile since starting high school. “Let’s go together.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “425820”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Except for me, everyone else knew the live cameras were rolling. They all teamed up to play me, keeping me completely in the dark while they praised me to the skies. Whoever managed to steal my first kiss would win a fifty-million-dollar bonus. After Carter Harrison won my first kiss, he wiped his mouth vigorously and furiously rinsed it out with mouthwash. “If it weren’t for the money, who would ever kiss a fat, ugly loser?” The entire internet erupted in a wave of mass mockery aimed right at me. [Why did she actually think a hot guy like him would ever fall for a pig like her?] When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the exact moment where I had to choose between “Romance” and “Prize Money.” “Of course I choose Romance,” I said. “I’m a hopeless romantic, after all.” It didn’t matter. I still had one last chance to switch my choice before the show ended. This time, I was going to take the money and the clout. 1 Waking up from my afternoon nap, having just selected my Romance Gem, I walked into the bathroom. I sat on the edge of the tub, buried my face in my hands, and laughed silently until my sides hurt. The humiliation from my past life was still fresh in my mind. Right after that brief peck of a kiss ended. Carter had smiled like a golden retriever, leaned into my ear, and whispered, “Did you eat lemon candy? Why do you taste like cheap air freshener? So gross.” Then, he asked the crew for a bottle of water and relentlessly rinsed his mouth. “If it weren’t for the money, who would ever kiss a fat, ugly loser?” Damon Sterling had been leaning against the second-floor railing, watching for God knows how long. “Losing the bet isn’t so bad,” he’d remarked. “If it were me… tsk, I couldn’t stomach the kiss anyway.” Carter had walked right past me as if I didn’t exist. “Rowan, I saw you looking at her. You can have her sloppy seconds.” Rowan Hayes had been slouched in a single sofa chair. The living room lights were dim, casting him in shadows. I didn’t know how long he’d been enjoying the show. Hearing Carter, he lazily waved a hand. “No thanks. I don’t eat fatty meat.” It was a sick game played by rich boys. Their good looks and massive wealth were the ultimate filters for their terrible personalities. No matter how cruel they were, the public would just squeal: He’s so toxic, but I love him! After the show, they donated a sum of money to charity. And the public magically “forgot” how they had toyed with me. They had a win-win deal with the production crew, raking in massive internet traffic. They boosted their family companies’ reputations. And me? In the public’s eyes, I became the poster child for a delusional, narcissistic fool. Trying to demand my right to know about the secret livestream only made me look like a sore loser. Pathetic and ridiculous. … Stepping out of the bathroom stall, I stood in front of the vanity mirror. In the glass, I was wearing a baggy, oversized gray long-sleeve shirt. My face wasn’t ugly, but it wasn’t stunning either. Soft features, almond eyes, rosy cheeks, and a small mole on the bridge of my nose. Only I knew that beneath the oversized clothes, my figure was incredibly curvy. During puberty, the kids at my old school had nicknamed me “Cow.” It caused me to slouch for years, too ashamed to stand up straight. In my world, the opposite sex was purely aggressive. When dealing with them, I was always stiff, shy, and overly cautious. Seeing my timidness, the male cast members easily deduced that I hadn’t had my first kiss yet. Without hesitation, they launched their offensive. Three gorgeous guys secretly competing for me—it was the ultimate ratings trap for the show. “Perfect. Now, everyone is in on the secret!” I curved my eyes, adjusting my smile. I washed my face and put on my heavy, thick black-rimmed glasses. I didn’t try to change my appearance. I displayed my “flaws” exactly as they were. Because what fun is a game if the prey doesn’t play along? 2 “Chloe, you’re downstairs! What do you want to eat for dinner?” Carter greeted me with overwhelming enthusiasm. That bright smile used to make me feel so warm and healed. Seeing it now just made me want to throw up. I played dumb, slowly looking up and pushing my heavy glasses up my nose awkwardly. “Hand-cut pappardelle pasta. What about you guys?” They were probably just going to boil some plain vegetables. Their main goal was just to look good for the cameras. The fridge was fully stocked with ingredients. I had no intention of eating rabbit food with them. After all, to play by their “rules,” I hadn’t brought any of my own snacks, but they definitely weren’t following the rules. Carter’s smile froze. “You’re eating that heavy for dinner?” In my past life, this asshole invited me to eat his boiled spinach. It was so salty I had to drink a whole pitcher of water. Having a soft temper became my original sin. The livestream audience despised me for a long time because of my “weakness.” Elena Vance, who was chopping vegetables nearby, chimed in casually. “One look at Chloe and you can tell she’s a foodie!” She paused, adding with an apologetic, gentle tone, “I’m not great with words. I didn’t mean to imply you were chubby or anything.” The gentle beauty, speaking with such earnestness. No one could ever bear to blame her. I lowered my head and forced a strained smile. “It’s okay. I’m used to it.” If she wants to play the victim card, two can play at that game. I sighed. “I gain weight even just drinking water anyway. Might as well eat whatever I want.” Without giving Elena a chance to explain, I walked past her. “Where are the others? Have they eaten?” A head popped up from the side of the couch. “I haven’t eaten yet!” The young man wore silver-rimmed glasses and a gentle smile. He leaned back on the sofa, and seeing me look over, raised a hand. “Hey~” Most of the time, Rowan Hayes slouched lazily on the couch with a book. It was hard to imagine that someone who looked so polite and refined… Could look at me and say, “I don’t eat fatty meat.” I smiled shyly. “Hi.” Very polite. Absolutely no romantic shyness. Without missing a beat, I walked straight to the kitchen island. I took out the ingredients and expertly began to mix the dough. Rowan shuffled over in his slippers, leaning against the counter. His amber eyes focused on my hands kneading the dough. “I’m not on a diet. Could you make a portion of that pasta for me too?” I shook my head. “No.” A stifled laugh came from nearby. Carter caught my eye and immediately put on an innocent expression, though his grin didn’t fade. I explained earnestly, “I don’t know what everyone else’s tastes are. It wouldn’t be fair if I cooked for you but not the others. Plus, someone else might get upset.” Rowan’s cool gaze flickered. His eyes reflected my seemingly panicked expression. “I get it. I was just hoping to be lazy. Can I steal some of your pasta next time?” I replied bluntly, “Who eats pasta every single day?” “Pfft—hahaha!” Carter doubled over laughing. I awkwardly rubbed the tip of my nose, pretending not to know I just smeared flour on it. I looked at their reactions and muttered, “Sorry. I’m not very good at talking to people.” Rowan grabbed a paper towel and sighed in amusement. “You got flour on your nose.” 3 I instinctively reached out to take the towel, but both my hands were covered in flour. “…” I looked at him with pleading eyes. “I’ll help you.” He leaned across the counter toward me. I knew my eyelashes were long. My eyes were my best feature, followed by the bridge of my nose, which gave my face a nice bone structure. My best friend always said I had a clean, unassuming face, but a body built for sin. I tilted my face up slightly, leaning in obediently. I met his gaze without any defenses. My almond eyes were clear and pure. He paused for a split second. I tilted my head a bit more, silently urging him. He lightly wiped the flour away with the tissue. I assumed he was done and tried to pull back, but he suddenly cupped the back of my head. “Hold still. Not done yet.” I held my breath. In a matter of seconds, my cheeks grew warm. I knew I was blushing. I saw a shallow, amused smile reach his eyes. I knew it—he was taking an interest in the game. Elena’s soothing voice broke the tension. “Have you guys looked at the rules yet? Did you pick the Love Seeker or the Gold Hunter?” The show Romance & Gold gave us two choices. A pink gem represented Romance. Gold represented Prize Money. Those who chose the money were the “Gold Hunters.” They had to win the affection of a “Love Seeker.” Only by being gifted the pink gem from a Love Seeker could they win the ten million dollar prize. But there was a hidden rule I wasn’t supposed to know about. [Identify a Love Seeker who still has their first kiss. Kiss them, and win a fifty million dollar jackpot.] Carter declared, “I’m here for love, obviously.” Rowan looked at Elena. “Me too.” Elena popped a grape into her mouth, looking at Rowan with interest. “Really? Me too! Want a grape?” Rowan didn’t refuse, naturally walking away with her. Carter strolled up to me. “What about you, Chloe?” My dough was almost ready. “Weren’t we supposed to keep our identities a secret?” He shadowed me, leaning in close. “You’re so nervous. Don’t tell me you’re a Gold Hunter?” I wanted to wash my hands, but they were caked in dough. “Could you help me roll up my sleeves?” He frowned, clearly reluctant to do something so servile. Seeing his hesitation, I just walked away and went straight to Elena. “Elena, could you help me roll—” Elena’s smile, which had been bright while talking to Rowan, faded. Before she could react, Rowan stepped in. “I’ll do it.” His fingers were long and elegant, his skin warm, occasionally brushing against my wrists. He rolled my sleeves up inch by inch, revealing my well-proportioned arms and pale, smooth skin. Touch was the key to building ambiguous tension. And given his experience with women, I knew he could tell from my arms that I wasn’t actually fat. “Thank you!” I said, returning to the counter without lingering. Carter wasn’t blind. He definitely noticed Rowan paying a bit too much attention to me. As a friend, he knew how Rowan operated. So, he leaned over to me. “I never said I wouldn’t help you.” The more attention he paid, the more he’d notice. I pressed my lips together into a small smile. “You were busy making soup. I didn’t want to bother you.” From this distance, he could see my shallow dimple. It was a sweet smile. He clearly zoned out for a second, blinking. “I’m making spinach, not soup.” I glanced hesitantly at his pot. “But…” He followed my gaze. The pot was boiling over, the spinach reduced to a mushy disaster. “Crap!” He immediately reached for the pot. I stepped back. “Careful, it’s hot!” Clang! The pot tipped, splashing boiling liquid everywhere. I was wearing sandals. The hot liquid splashed right onto my foot. Carter looked horrified, staring at the mess on the floor. Rowan and Elena hurried over, asking in unison, “Are you okay?!” 4 But for a second, no one moved to clean it up. They instinctively looked at me. I faked a brave face. “I’ll go get the mop!” I took one step and inhaled sharply, frowning in pain as I lifted my injured foot. “Don’t move,” Rowan said quickly. He stepped up and scooped me into his arms effortlessly. I nervously hooked my arms around his neck. It looked like I was afraid of falling, but really, I was just closing the distance between us until we were breathing the same air. Carter, realizing he couldn’t exactly sweep the floor now, followed us, looking guilty. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to.” I let out a soft “Ah,” pretending to snap out of a daze to look at him. “It’s fine. I’m just worried it’ll blister. It’s going to be hard to put on pants tomorrow. I didn’t bring any skirts, and my wallet was confiscated by the crew… Could someone help me buy a dress?” “I’ll have someone buy one,” Rowan offered considerately. Carter looked annoyed. “No, I’ll buy it. I’m the one who burned her. You have to let me make it up to you!” Elena walked over carrying the first-aid kit. “Oh, let’s stop talking about dresses for a second and clean the wound.” I looked at her, deeply moved. “Elena, you’re so sweet!” In my past life, Carter was into her type. She was the one who constantly made me look like a fool. One by one… anyone who stepped on me, I wouldn’t let them off the hook this time. Rowan knelt in front of the sofa, lowering his head to carefully clean my foot with a saline-soaked cotton swab. “Hiss—maybe I should do it?” My pant leg was rolled up, revealing a flawless, pale calf. The red burn mark on my foot was glaringly obvious. My face was flushed red, my toes curling awkwardly. “Stop moving.” His breath was burning hot. It brushed against the top of my foot. It felt strange. I reminded myself: It’s just a physical reaction. Normal. “Carter, could you pass me a tissue?” I asked. Rowan was showing enough interest. Carter was lagging behind. Carter’s attention had been entirely on my foot. He took a half-beat to react before grabbing a tissue from the coffee table. I took off my glasses to wipe a white speck off them. Looking around and not seeing a trash can, I naturally held the crumpled tissue out to Carter. He met my eyes, then looked at the tissue in my hand. “Give it to me.” Without the heavy black frames dulling my face, and without the gloominess that used to cloud my expression, my eyes were bright and watery. My nose was delicate, my lips full. I wasn’t a jaw-dropping bombshell, but I had a clean, alluring charm. It was the kind of innocent “girl-next-door” beauty that drove guys crazy. My best friend used to say: Before you take your clothes off, you look completely harmless. Once the clothes are gone, you’re a walking temptation. Seeing this, Carter was hooked. Otherwise, with his fake-friendly, secretly arrogant personality, he never would have taken my trash with his bare hands. The fish had taken the bait. 5 When Damon Sterling and Sierra Montgomery returned, I was blushing while holding up a dress. Elena smiled gracefully. “This is a new arrival from Catherine’s boutique. Don’t be shy, Chloe, go try it on! It’s a gift from Carter, after all.” I shook my head under Carter’s expectant, puppy-dog gaze. “I can’t wear this. It’s too expensive.” Sierra clicked her heels across the floor and tossed her purse casually onto the couch. “What are you guys doing?” It was a million-dollar Birkin, tossed like trash. Just looking at it, I knew the live chat was probably screaming. Sierra was a spoiled, wealthy heiress. She was arrogant, demanding, and blunt. In reality, her family’s company was bleeding money. She came on this show specifically to secure a marriage alliance with Damon’s family. Damon was her target. In my past life, because I was their “target,” Sierra hated me. She constantly used me to make herself look better. Elena explained what had happened. Sierra scoffed. “What do you mean ‘too expensive’? You just can’t fit into it, right?” Carter shook his head, replying instantly. “Impossible. I told them to bring the largest size they had.” Elena urged me, “Don’t feel bad accepting it. A dress like this is nothing to him.” My face burned bright red. I stammered, “I can’t! T-the chest is too small!” Rowan let out a muffled laugh. “It definitely won’t fit. Her waist isn’t that thick either.” He was sitting closest to me. Somehow, my leg was resting on his thigh. He was still holding the burn ointment. I nervously tucked a strand of long hair behind my ear, revealing a bright red earlobe. “Could someone… help me back to my room?” Carter didn’t give Rowan the chance. “My fault for buying the wrong size. I’ll carry you up.” I leaned softly into his chest. I felt his body instantly tense up. His ears visibly turned red. The energetic puppy was strong. He carried me up to the second floor effortlessly. Just as he was about to set me on the bed, I suddenly leaned right next to his ear. “You have ear piercings. Were you a rebellious kid?” Caught off guard by the teasing, he panicked and tried to pull back. I acted terrified and clung to him, and in the chaos, we tumbled onto the bed together. The soft mattress bounced. “Ow, ow, ow!” I cried out. Being pressed together like that, he suddenly got a very clear understanding of the size of certain… assets. His erratic breathing brushed against my collarbone. He scrambled to push himself up. Our eyes met, his gaze entirely scrambled. I had a tear in the corner of my eye from the pain. “Did I press on your burn?!” His face was completely red as he scrambled to inspect my foot. I knew it was time for phase two. 6 [Live Chat] [Omg, Carter looks like he’s about to spontaneously combust!] [Ahhhh! This is so spicy!] [Arrogant, awkward puppy boy! I’m dying!] [I swear, could Chloe step aside so I can take her place for two days?!] [Carter stealing the chance to carry Chloe, and Rowan’s face… I’m laughing so hard.] [I really want to know her measurements now. Am I the only one who remembers that?] [Girl, you’re not alone. Did you hear Rowan say her waist wasn’t thick at all?] That evening, I received some special treatment from the crew. They brought me a beautifully plated bento box. Sierra saw it when she walked in and smiled mockingly. “Wow, quite the feast. Wish I was the one who got burned.” In my past life, I would have been so embarrassed by her sarcasm that I wouldn’t know what to say. Now, knowing this was live, her motive was obvious. She was using me as a stepping stone to cement her “spoiled but straightforward princess” persona. “Trust me, you don’t. It hurts way too much.” I happily picked up a piece of pork katsu. “If you want some, I can secretly feed you a bite.” Sierra choked on her words, looking me up and down. “No thanks. I’m on a diet.” I happily munched on my katsu. I didn’t look lonely or sad about being rejected. It made her look at me several times. Compared to Sierra’s blunt probing, Elena was much higher level. She looked at my bandaged foot with a worried expression. “Can you still participate normally like this? Maybe we should have the fourth female cast member come early, and you can go home and rest for a bit?” Did she really think the producers would listen to her? I looked at my food, understanding her game. The internet was probably blowing up about me. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be this “nice.” The producers needed me to keep dragging the guys along. They would never replace me. “I’m fine. It won’t delay anything.” I pretended to think hard about it. “Besides, I don’t use my feet to date.” [Lmao! ‘I don’t use my feet to date!’] [Honestly, I didn’t like Chloe at first, but seeing her aggressively eat that katsu, I’m a fan.] [She’s amazing. I thought she was just a frumpy girl, but she can make homemade pasta and she’s got two hot guys carrying her around!] [The comments above make no sense, I couldn’t even dream this up. Chloe is the goat.] [Do you think she’ll get texts from two guys tonight?!] After dinner, I grunted as I tied a plastic bag over my foot. Sierra walked out in her silk pajamas, wearing a sheet mask. “Where are you going?” I hopped toward the door. “Dinner was salty. I’m going to get some water.” Elena put down her book. “I’ll get it for you!” “Oh, thank you so much, Elena!” I didn’t actually need to go out. I had been active enough today. “Sorry for the trouble. If there’s anything you want to eat tomorrow, I can cook it for you.” Elena’s soft eyes smiled. “It’s no trouble at all.” She took my cup and walked out. A full fifteen minutes passed. She still wasn’t back. It seemed she got caught up in something. Who did she run into downstairs? Carter was hyperactive and couldn’t sit still. Damon liked to stay in his room and look down from above. The only one likely chilling downstairs was Rowan. No, wait… 7 Damon had come back late today. Maybe he was downstairs making food. They were all on this dating show for ulterior motives. For Damon, the investor, his goal was clear. If the show was a hit, he won. He wouldn’t mind generating some drama. Chatting while cooking, some subtle physical contact—it would generate massive traffic. So, the two of them were probably having a great time downstairs. Sierra ripped off her sheet mask and threw it in the trash. Using her signature sarcastic tone, she snapped, “Did she fall into a spider’s nest down there?” I packed up my things, letting my long, dark hair down and running my fingers through it. “Maybe she’s helping someone.” She gave me a meaningful look. “She sure is busy.” I suddenly asked, “Oh right, we’re supposed to discuss cooking duties tomorrow. Is there anyone you like?” Sierra looked at me, her eyes freezing on my face for a second. She completely ignored my question. “I couldn’t tell before, but you’re actually really pretty. Why do you hide it?” She was doubting my motives? I touched my face, looking a bit sad. “You’re the second person to say I’m pretty.” She wanted to use me to build her persona. Why shouldn’t I use her right back? I looked at her with shining eyes. “My best friend says I’m too honest and that I slouch too much. But you guys saying I’m pretty makes me really happy.” Sierra hadn’t expected me to be so vulnerable. She had been full of calculations, but I had answered with pure sincerity. She cleared her throat and changed the subject. “I like Damon.” Answering my previous question. Turns out she couldn’t handle emotional sincerity. I filed that away. “I like Carter. If we have to draw straws for partners tomorrow, we can secretly trade.” She looked at me weirdly. “What do you like about Carter?” I blinked, offering genuine praise. “He seems so energetic. He always brings joy to everyone around him.” She stated bluntly, “You and him are a terrible match.” I looked at her, surprised. “Why?” Perfect. Keep going. She knew exactly what Carter was like. She knew that if I got involved with him, I’d just be a toy. The fact that she warned me meant she had subconsciously lumped me into the “friend” category. She thought I was just a naive, sweet girl. Sierra leaned against the headboard, flipping through a document. “No reason. If you don’t believe me, try dating him. Anyone who makes you feel uncomfortable is a bad match.” I smiled, satisfied. “Okay. I’ll give it a try.” Wooing three guys? Boring. If a girl is only friends with the guys, she gets labeled a pick-me. But if the girls like me too? Then I’m the untouchable darling of the house. [I was just about to say she’s manipulative, but she’s just a sincere puppy! My baby! She’s smiling but it looks like she’s about to cry.] [She really is pretty, her skin is flawless.] [Hearing her talk about her insecurities is breaking my heart.] [I see myself in her. In high school, I was called a pig because of my butt. It wasn’t until I started working out that people told me it was actually a good thing.] [Sierra is awesome too! She complimented Chloe immediately. The rich princess is actually a softie.] [But she was definitely throwing shade at Elena.] [Lmao, was she wrong though? Elena is downstairs flirting with Damon. She went to get water for Chloe, but stayed to chop vegetables for him.] [Poor Chloe is just sitting there dying of thirst.] [What the hell? Elena was nice enough to go, you guys are so toxic.] [Getting water isn’t an obligation.] [Please, if she couldn’t do it, she shouldn’t have offered. Now Chloe feels bad going down herself.] 8 I casually asked, “Oh, do you think you and Damon will cook together?” Sierra perked up. “Of course. Rich kids not knowing how to cook is just a stereotype.” I left it at that. I went into the bathroom, washed my hair, and wiped myself down. The summer heat was stifling. While in the bathroom, I heard footsteps outside. I smiled. Looks like Sierra realized Damon probably hadn’t eaten dinner, and it was him downstairs with Elena. In my past life, Elena and Sierra quickly formed a “besties” alliance and constantly made my life miserable. Would they still become friends now? Not long after, I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. Neither of them looked happy. Sierra looked furious, and Elena looked incredibly awkward. I looked around. No water cup. Elena froze when she saw me looking. “Sorry, Chloe, I forgot your water. I’ll go get it right now—” Sierra slammed her car keys onto the table. “Tsk. Rely on you and she’d die of dehydration tonight.” Looks like things were going even better than I thought. They had openly clashed! “I’ll go down myself. My foot only hurts on the top, I can walk fine.” I stepped barefoot onto the floor. “I got my foot wet while washing my hair. The first-aid kit is downstairs, so I’ll redress the burn while I’m at it.” Before either of them could say anything, I walked out and literally slid down the banister. [I am dying laughing.] [Never seen Sierra go off like that.] [It was totally a reality TV ‘catching the mistress’ moment.] [Omg, Sierra is following her downstairs! Chloe is caught in the crossfire.] [Chloe is a genius, sliding down the banister!] [Hahahaha, they are staring at each other. Chloe looks like a kid caught doing something bad by her parents.] I put away my fake guilt and awkwardly greeted them. “Eating dinner this late?” The man sitting at the table looked cold and distant as he ate. “I finished work late.” I had no intention of kissing up to him. In my plan, I wasn’t going to woo him directly. Avoiding him would make me stand out and draw his attention. I chugged two huge glasses of water. I grabbed the first-aid kit and retreated to the patio chairs outside to cool off. Rowan had cleaned it earlier, but I needed to put shoes on tomorrow. If the blister didn’t pop, my shoe would rub it raw anyway. Sierra pushed the door open and walked out. “Why are you hiding out here?” Seeing her, I forced a smile. “Mild social anxiety. I didn’t know what to say to Mr. Sterling, and I didn’t want to gross him out by popping a blister while he’s eating.” She crossed her arms, watching me pierce the blister. I suddenly stopped. “Wait, you aren’t out here to play defense, are you?” I gave her a knowing, gossipy look. She rolled her eyes, looking completely annoyed. “What defense? He’s not my boyfriend. I was just worried about you, okay?” I clicked my tongue. “Well, your taste is definitely unique. Who likes an ice cube?” Before I even finished, a slow tapping on the glass door made me freeze. I looked up and saw Damon standing in the doorway. My smile vanished instantly, and my spine stiffened defensively. He was the tallest of the guys, his face sharp and unapproachable. Even from a distance, he was intimidating. Compared to the playful Carter and the lazy Rowan… Damon emitted an aura that made people afraid of him. His cool voice carried a hint of mockery. “Who’s an ice cube? Me?” I looked at him, then panicked and turned to Sierra, frantically winking at her, practically screaming ‘save me’ with my eyes.

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My husband went to a class reunion, came home, and asked me for a divorce. He saw his first love. She was divorced and struggling. He said that giving her a life of luxury used to be his ultimate dream. Back then, he was broke and unworthy of her. Now, he has the money and the power, and he has to seize the opportunity. 1 I never thought a midlife crisis would hit my husband. To outsiders, David and I were the model couple. We got along perfectly and rarely argued. Aside from mandatory business dinners, David almost never ate out. If he could leave the office on time, he would always come home to have dinner with me and our daughter. On weekends, he would frequently take us on short road trips out of the city. For a successful CEO, compared to those partners who constantly hit up high-end clubs or claimed to be “on business trips” to avoid coming home, David was an objectively good man. He didn’t sleep around, he didn’t gamble, and he didn’t have any extravagant hobbies. Wealthy wives at the country club often used him as the gold standard to lecture their own husbands. To me, David was a devoted husband and a wonderful father. Back when we were dating, we had our fair share of passion and romance. As we got older, that fiery passion slowly faded, settling into a calm, warm, and comfortable life. Even though we didn’t say “I love you” every single day, I knew the feelings hadn’t disappeared. Even now, every morning before leaving for work, David would gently kiss my forehead. After years of marriage, it was a habit he had formed. As a busy executive, he always managed to find the time to attend our daughter Mia’s parent-teacher conferences. He was a family man. He never brought negative energy from work into the house. No matter how stressed he was, he never lost his temper with me or Mia. This was the good man I had spent years patiently shaping and nurturing. I was very satisfied. We had walked hand-in-hand for so many years, and I truly believed we would grow old together. But yesterday, after returning from his class reunion, David acted entirely out of character. He went straight to bed without chatting with me like he usually did. This morning at breakfast, he sat there in complete silence. Just as I was taking a sip of my coffee, he suddenly spoke. “Claire, let’s get a divorce.” I almost choked to death. 2 I didn’t understand. Wasn’t everything perfectly fine? Just a few days ago, we were discussing where to go for our anniversary trip. David even suggested letting his parents take care of Mia for a few days so we could go on a private getaway. “Honey, we haven’t enjoyed just being the two of us in so long,” he had said while holding me. We had finally made it through the storms of life; the rest of our path was supposed to be smooth sailing. We had already crossed the threshold of forty. We were no longer young, impulsive kids. It was just one high school reunion. I couldn’t wrap my head around it. What could make David make such an irrational decision? I put my mug down, stared at him, and froze for a solid minute. “What kind of joke are you playing?” David looked at me solemnly. “Claire, I’m not joking.” I felt a wave of absurdity, but I tried to keep my emotions in check. “Okay. Tell me. What exactly is the reason?” Sitting across from me, David began to slowly explain. His voice was deep and steady, but when he mentioned a specific name, the uncontrollable upward twitch of his lips and the sudden, overwhelming tenderness in his tone proved he wasn’t joking at all. By the time he finished, my emotions were violently churning. I wanted to remain calm and composed, to keep my dignity, but the moisture in my eyes had already betrayed me. When I opened my mouth, my voice cracked. “So, you ran into your first love, she’s divorced, she’s having a hard time, and you want to marry her?” “You don’t understand, Claire. She’s not like you,” David rushed to explain. “She came from money. She was pampered like a princess her whole life. She never knew what hardship was. When she got married, her husband’s family was well-off, but then he got addicted to gambling, blew the family fortune, and racked up massive debts with loan sharks. She finally managed to divorce him, but then her father died in a car crash. She has absolutely no one to rely on anymore. All these years, she’s never worked a day in her life. She literally has no ability to survive on her own.” “You don’t know how much it broke my heart to see her wearing scuffed, peeling heels at the reunion yesterday.” “She’s Evelyn. The princess who used to be the center of the universe. Back in the day, a single pair of her shoes cost more than my living expenses for months.” “She was a girl who had everything, yet she looked past my poverty. We dated from high school through college. Even though we didn’t go to the same university, we were in the same city. She would come to my campus to sit in class with me, eat cheap street food with me, and keep me company while I worked part-time jobs…” I stared at the man pouring his heart out in front of me. “If you loved her so much, why did you break up?” 3 “I couldn’t bear to drag her down,” David smiled bitterly. “She didn’t despise me for being poor, but I despised myself. I had just graduated. I was renting a damp basement apartment for three hundred bucks a month. My future was bleak. I couldn’t give her the life she wanted, and I couldn’t stand watching her suffer with me. I didn’t deserve her. What else could I do but let her go?” I took a deep breath. “And now, you can afford to give her a life of luxury, and you want to lay the world at her feet. What about me? What about Mia?” I hated myself for being so weak. Tears spilled out of my eyes uncontrollably. Over the years, I rarely cried. Seeing my tears, David panicked. He clumsily reached over to wipe them away. “Claire, I’m sorry. It’s all my fault. I’m the villain here. I hurt you and our daughter. I’ll leave all the money to you guys. I don’t want a single cent. You and Mia can keep living exactly as you have been—” “So, you are absolutely determined to go through with this divorce, aren’t you?” I sneered. “Evelyn is too fragile. She doesn’t even have a stable job. I’m terrified that if things keep going like this, she won’t survive.” “If she doesn’t have a job, you can help her find one! Why do you have to marry her?” I demanded loudly. “I can’t. I asked her. She won’t accept my help for no reason.” “But if she marries you, she can peacefully and comfortably accept your charity, is that it? Does she not know you’re someone else’s husband? Does she not know destroying someone’s family is shameless? Evelyn… how can she have zero dignity?!” I had never been this fiercely emotional in my life. “Enough! You’ve always been so elegant, reasonable, and gentle. How can you talk about someone else like that? Evelyn didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the one who wants to marry her. She rejected me; I’m the one insisting on it! I just can’t stand to watch her live in such misery, I—” “You just can’t let her go, can you?” I cut him off. “I am not getting a divorce. This is the marriage I poured my blood, sweat, and tears into building. I am not going to just hand it over and let someone else reap the rewards!” “Just calm down and think about it. Call me when you’ve made up your mind,” David said, grabbing his coat and heading for the door. “I’ll stay at the office for the next few days.” 4 David’s “good husband” persona completely collapsed. He moved Evelyn and her daughter to our city, installing them in a high-end luxury condo under his name. He used his connections to get Evelyn’s daughter into an elite private prep school, the exact same school our daughter, Mia, attended. He even gave Evelyn a position at his company—as his executive assistant. He took Evelyn everywhere: meetings, client visits, business dinners. At one dinner, someone made a harmless joke about Evelyn, and David flipped out on the spot. Everyone was whispering about it. David had caught a late-in-life fire. He was having a midlife crisis disguised as “true love.” When I went to the spa for a facial, I ran into several of the wealthy country-club wives I knew well. They spoke to me with faux concern, acting outraged on my behalf, but they couldn’t hide the schadenfreude dancing in their eyes. For years, David’s flawless “perfect husband” image had made them grit their teeth in jealousy. Who doesn’t harbor a little envy? The world is full of people who secretly hate seeing others do well. And now, I was finally just like them. They were eager to share their “pity.” They crowded around me, bombarding me with advice on how to deal with the “other woman,” how to protect my assets, and how to drag my husband’s heart back home. Leaving the spa, I realized I had actually absorbed some of their words, even entertaining which strategies might work. Once upon a time, I despised women who wasted all their mental energy playing games to keep a man. I used to advise those same wives to find their own passions, telling them that if they stayed busy, they wouldn’t have time to obsess over their husbands. I used to say that a cheating man is permanently stained, and taking him back is just revolting. I never expected that one day, I would become the exact type of woman I loathed. It’s easy to spout platitudes when tragedy hasn’t struck your own life. But when you’re in the trenches, you realize that “letting go” is incredibly hard. This was the family I had painstakingly built, sacrificing everything for. This was the man I had patiently guided and shaped step by step. I truly couldn’t just throw it all away. 5 After so many years of marriage, I knew David’s personality like the back of my hand. He was someone who responded to softness, not aggression. I knew that if I lowered my pride, played the victim, and begged him—relying on our decades of history—I could probably stop the divorce. But I refused to. I physically couldn’t bring myself to beg him after he had already betrayed me. Why should I? I wasn’t the one who made a mistake. And so, we were locked in a stalemate. The harder I pushed back, and the more stubbornly I refused to divorce, the more righteous David felt. His guilt and his softness toward me evaporated entirely. While I was at work, he snuck back into our house and packed up all his clothes. They officially moved in together. He openly flaunted Evelyn everywhere. He left me with absolutely zero dignity. He was dead set on a divorce. My inner stubbornness flared up. I absolutely refused to sign the papers. I wanted to make sure they couldn’t be together legitimately. I wanted Evelyn to wear the label of a mistress forever. 6 Mia’s school had a parent-teacher conference coming up. My firm had a major client visiting that exact day, so I had to be there. Unable to attend the conference, I called David in advance, asking him to clear his schedule so he could go. His assistant answered the phone. The young man spoke respectfully: “Hello, Mrs. Jiang. Mr. Jiang instructed me to tell you that unless it’s about the divorce, he has nothing to discuss with you.” Hanging up, I drove straight to corporate headquarters. The receptionist at the front desk smiled and told me that without an appointment, I couldn’t see the CEO. I told her to book an appointment right now. She smiled and said Mr. Jiang wasn’t in the office, and I should try another day. I told her I was his wife and demanded to wait inside. She kept her fake smile and repeated that anyone seeing the CEO needed an appointment. Leaving the building, I drove to the nearby luxury condo. David and Evelyn’s love nest. Standing at the door, I punched in the passcode. Incorrect password. Driving back home, leaning against the leather seat, I let out a bitter laugh. I never thought the day would come when I wouldn’t be able to reach my own husband. In the past, he always answered my calls on the first ring. He told me that during meetings, he put his phone on Do Not Disturb for everyone—except me. On weekends, during our family outings, anyone who needed him for an emergency had to call my phone to reach him. And now? I remembered what one of the country club wives told me a few days ago. The running joke in their business circle was: If you can’t reach the CEO, just call Secretary Evelyn. She’ll find him. A dull, suffocating ache spread through my chest. I couldn’t figure out how a perfectly good life had unraveled into this unrecognizable mess. When I got home that evening, Mia was already sitting at the dining table eating dinner. Lately, the chauffeur had been picking her up. I told her Daddy was on a business trip. The housekeeper brought me a bowl of rice. Just as I picked up my chopsticks, Mia looked up at me. Her eyes were welling with tears. “Mom, Dad isn’t on a business trip, is he?” While I was scrambling for an excuse, she kept talking. “I saw Dad today. This morning, he dropped a girl off at school, and he picked her up this afternoon. He was with some lady, and he had his arm around her waist. Mom, does Dad not want us anymore? That girl is in sixth grade, just like me. She’s a new transfer student in Class 3. I went to look at her through the window. She isn’t even as cute as me. Is Dad going to be her dad now? Does he not love me anymore?” Looking at my heartbroken daughter, I couldn’t bear to tell her the truth. “Dad is just temporarily helping a friend take care of her kid. He’ll come home soon.” 7 In the middle of the night, Mia spiked a high fever. I carried her to the car and told the driver to rush to the ER. In the backseat, delirious with fever, Mia kept calling for her dad. “Mom, Dad will come, right?” she asked, clutching my arm. “Before, whenever I got sick, Dad would stay by my bed the whole time. I took a really cold shower and got super sick. Dad will definitely come see me, right?” My arm stiffened as I hugged her. “Mia, did you make yourself sick on purpose?” Mia whispered, “Yeah. I used the shower to get soaking wet, and I didn’t dry off. I knew it would work. I haven’t seen Dad in so long. I just wanted to see him.” I hugged her tight, tears streaming down my face. “You foolish girl, why would you do something so stupid?” “Mom, call Dad quickly. Tell him I’m sick.” But Mia was left disappointed. I called him over and over again, but no one ever answered. By the time her IV drip finished, it was already the next morning. Looking at Mia sleeping in the hospital bed, I felt her forehead. It was still a little warm, so I called her homeroom teacher to excuse her for the day. When Mia woke up around 10 AM, I bought her some oatmeal and we left the hospital. As we were walking down a long corridor, Mia suddenly stopped dead in her tracks, staring blankly ahead. Following her gaze, I saw a “happy family of three” not far away. David and a woman were coaxing a little girl. The girl looked about eleven or twelve, roughly Mia’s age. “Sweetheart, didn’t you say your stomach hurt? Let’s be good and go see the doctor, okay?” The woman’s voice was incredibly gentle. This was the first time I had ever seen Evelyn. To be honest, I was a little disappointed. She looked very thin and fragile, but she definitely wasn’t beautiful. Her complexion was sallow, and there was a heavy exhaustion around her eyes. It was obvious that these past few years had been very hard on her. I couldn’t understand how I was losing to a woman like this. From looks to ability to talent, I was confident she couldn’t beat me in a single category. It seems the power of a “first love” is truly terrifying. Even without her youthful beauty, Evelyn still had David wrapped around her finger. 8 “Mom, I lied. My stomach doesn’t hurt. I just didn’t want to go to P.E. class,” the little girl glared at Evelyn, her voice sharp. “You don’t even know how awful our P.E. teacher is. He makes us run an 800-meter dash every time!” “How can you lie like that?” Evelyn’s voice pitched up. The little girl immediately hid behind David. David shielded her, smiling at Evelyn. “Hey, let it go. She’s just a kid. If she doesn’t want to run, she doesn’t have to.” Then he looked down at the girl. “Don’t worry, Uncle David will go talk to your homeroom teacher. I’ll tell him you have a weak constitution and can’t do long-distance running.” The little girl’s eyes lit up. “Really?” Evelyn shoved him playfully. “You shouldn’t spoil her like this.” I looked down at Mia. Her face was entirely covered in tears. It wasn’t until the three of them walked away that Mia buried her face in my chest and sobbed uncontrollably for a long time. When she finally finished, she looked up, wiped her tears, and asked me, “Mom, can you just divorce Dad? I don’t want him anymore.” Looking at my daughter’s resolute eyes, I nodded. “Okay.” She was right. What exactly had I been holding on for so long? Wasn’t it just to save this family and preserve the warmth we used to have? But David had already cheated. The fracture was already there. Even if I exhausted every ounce of my energy to drag him back, could this family ever be the same? I had ruined his chance to rekindle his romance with his first love, forcing him to stay by my side. His body might be in this house, but his heart wouldn’t be. He would be bitter, resentful, and constantly angry at me. What use was a family like that to me? What I wanted was a harmonious home where my daughter could grow up happy and healthy. That harmony was long gone. In a toxic household, could my daughter ever truly be happy? I had backed myself into a corner. Thankfully, my daughter was more clear-headed than I was. She understood better than I did that keeping someone around who no longer loves you is entirely pointless. So, we wouldn’t keep him. Stepping out of that dead end, everything suddenly made sense. I realized that getting a divorce really wasn’t a big deal. After the divorce, my daughter and I could still live a perfectly happy life. I had a career, I had money, I had my daughter. Even though I was in my forties, I took great care of myself and looked good. I could just be a happy, single, wealthy woman. I couldn’t wait. I picked up my phone and called David. Once again, his assistant answered. I said loudly: “Tell David I agree to the divorce!” 9 The divorce proceedings went incredibly smoothly. David still had a shred of conscience left and knew he was entirely at fault. He didn’t dare look me in the eye the entire time. Thanks to his guilt, and my calm, cooperative attitude, he was surprisingly generous with the asset division. All of our real estate properties and cash reserves went to me. In addition, he gave me a 10% equity stake in his company. He said the shares were for Mia, so I accepted them without hesitation. After the divorce, David was left with nothing but his company. But the company was his ultimate safety net. He had the capability, the clients, the resources, and the market share. As long as the company existed, he had an endless stream of wealth. That was exactly why he was willing to be so generous with me. A month later, we went to city hall to finalize the paperwork. Mia came with me this time. She didn’t speak a single word to her father the entire time. Walking out of the building, David looked at Mia, offering a fawning smile. “Can Dad give you guys a ride home? Mia, even though Mom and Dad are divorced now, Dad still loves you just as much as before.” Right at that moment, Evelyn walked over holding her daughter’s hand. The girl had already changed her tune. She shouted at David, “Dad, let’s go to the amusement park! You promised!” Mia grabbed my hand and started walking away. “Mom, let’s go home.” 10 After the divorce, David’s mom—my former mother-in-law—came to see me once. She was furious on my behalf, thumping her chest and promising me that she would never let that homewrecker step foot in her house, and that she would only ever recognize me as her daughter-in-law. But it didn’t take long before I heard that David and Evelyn had officially gotten their marriage license. Rumor had it his mother had come to town ready for a fight, planning to move in indefinitely and swearing she wouldn’t leave until she drove Evelyn out. Very quickly, she was defeated and quietly sent back to her small hometown by her son. The old lady had apparently stressed Evelyn out so much she fainted three times. David’s heart broke for her, and he lost his temper at his own mother. So it goes: whoever makes the money in the family calls the shots. Ultimately, the old lady relied on her son to support her. If he put his foot down, she had no choice but to compromise. But it was also clear that while Evelyn looked weak and fragile, she was far from simple. She had David wrapped tightly around her finger. After the divorce, I almost entirely cut contact with David. I only occasionally heard updates about him through mutual friends. I realized that when it came to his life, I didn’t even care to listen anymore. The day before David’s 41st birthday, he surprisingly called me. It was the first time we had spoken on the phone since the divorce. “Uh, Claire, tomorrow is my birthday. Evelyn said we’re having a small party at the house. You and Mia should come hang out.” “I don’t have time. I’m very busy these days,” I rejected him flatly. David paused, then said, “Okay, you’re busy, but I’ll send the driver to pick Mia up.” “No,” I rejected him again. “If she goes alone, I’m worried she’ll be bullied.” “What kind of talk is that? She’s my daughter, my only child. Who would dare bully her in my house?” “Are you sure you only have one daughter? Don’t you have another one living in your house right now?” He hesitated, and I decisively hung up the phone. That evening, I told Mia about it and asked if she wanted to go, promising to respect her decision. Mia instantly refused without a second of hesitation. The next night, well past midnight, I was just about to go to sleep when I got another call from David. He sounded drunk. His words were slurred and messy. “Claire… for years… this is the first time I haven’t celebrated my birthday with you. I don’t know why, but I just feel so empty inside. Today, a lot of people came to the house. Relatives, friends, business partners… it was loud, but I just felt so lonely. I felt sick. In the past, every birthday, it was just the three of us celebrating. There weren’t a lot of people, but I was so happy… so satisfied.” “I didn’t get to eat the durian cake you always bake for me… I didn’t get a present from Mia… I feel awful…” David had a terrible habit: when he drank, he talked way too much. He got incredibly repetitive. To stop him from rambling, I cut him off: “You’ve had too much to drink. Go to sleep.” Right after I hung up, he called again. Watching the phone ring incessantly, I just turned it off. Lying in bed, my mind drifted back to the durian cake David mentioned. I actually hate durian. I despise the smell. Mia takes after me and refuses to eat it too. But David was the complete opposite; he loved it. Every year for his birthday, I would bake him a durian cake from scratch, and he would happily eat the entire thing himself. When baking it, just to avoid the overwhelming stench, I had to wear a medical mask. Since the divorce, I never had to buy durian for the house again. I never had to force myself to endure a smell I hated ever again. It was absolutely wonderful. 11 After the divorce, I realized I felt so much lighter. The main reason was that I just had far fewer things to manage. In the past, besides running my own firm, I had to handle endless chores involving kids, housework, relatives, and friends. After work, I had to help my daughter with her homework. On weekends, I took her to tutoring and extracurriculars, constantly worrying about her academics, life, and health. I was managing several properties and commercial storefronts. Just keeping track of the utilities, maintenance, and leases for multiple locations was a massive headache. Then there was the housework. Even though we hired a housekeeper to cook and clean, things like ironing specific clothes, organizing, and decluttering filled up my daily life. Furthermore, even though my in-laws didn’t live with us, I had to arrange all the holiday visits, gifts, and check-ins. The two of them never bothered David with anything; they called me directly. In their eyes, their son was a big-shot CEO who was busy every day, and they couldn’t risk interrupting his work. Then there were the extended relatives. Whether it was his side or mine, if anyone came to the city, they came straight to me, and I was the one tasked with hosting and organizing their stay. David had many clients he needed to maintain good relationships with, so I had to befriend the wives of those executives, taking them out shopping, to the spa, and sending them gifts to maintain our social standing. In the past, my planner was always covered in post-it notes reminding me whose birthday was coming up, who was opening a new store, whose relative was having surgery, and so on. But now, I didn’t have to deal with any of that messy social politics anymore. I sold off the extra properties. I only kept the luxury condo we currently lived in, a large penthouse downtown, and a villa in the suburbs. This way, I didn’t have too much real estate to manage. Honestly, I’m someone who hates micromanaging. If I can be lazy, I will be. Over the years, my ability to handle everything flawlessly and juggle endless trivial tasks was entirely forced upon me by circumstance. Now, besides work, I only had to take care of myself, my daughter, and my parents. All those other complicated social obligations were completely thrown out the window. I never had to write a reminder in my planner again. With this newfound free time, I found I had so much more energy to pour into my career. My consulting firm quickly expanded its operations. I co-founded this accounting and consulting firm with my college roommate. While the volume wasn’t massive, our client base was stable, and our profits grew steadily every year. One day, my assistant told me there was a massive contract on the table with highly lucrative margins, and asked if I wanted to take it. I took one look at the client’s name, and I immediately understood the hesitant look in my assistant’s eyes. The client was David’s company. “We’re not taking this contract. Decline it,” I said.

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The man who had a secret crush on me jumped off a building. Reborn, I told him I loved him. But he threatened me, saying that if I truly loved him, I had to die with him. Wait, let me start from the beginning. That’s a different story for a different time. Here is the story of how a prank ruined everything. 01 It rarely snowed heavily in Seattle. After lunch, I was strolling around the hospital grounds with a few colleagues when we bumped into Daphne Price, who was taking photos of the snow. During med school, she was famously known as the “Ice Queen” of the medical faculty. Her personality was colder than the surgical scalpel she wielded; she never smiled. She was the goddess of many upper and lower classmen. “Dr. Price!” A male colleague called out Daphne’s name and shoved a coffee into her hand to warm her up: “It’s pretty cold out here, why are you alone?” “Thanks. I’m not a fan of crowds.” Daphne turned around coolly, her porcelain skin looking like it had a thin layer of frost under the sunlight. Everyone wanted to take a group photo under the tree, so I pulled out my phone to act as the photographer. I bent down to find the right angle and distance, counting down with my fingers: “Three, two…” In the very last second of the countdown, a sudden rush of wind swept past my ear. My boyfriend, Lucas Hayes, appeared out of nowhere. With a loud laugh, he hoisted my bent figure onto his shoulder and slammed me down hard, right shoulder first, in a vicious shoulder throw! THUD! “Look at you, you look so stupid! Hahaha!” I sank into the snow. The tree trunk buried beneath the snow shook gently from my impact, and snowflakes fell rustling from the branches, beautiful as a fairyland. For the first time ever, Daphne smiled radiantly, stunning everyone. 02 Why did Lucas do this to me? To intentionally make me look like a fool, just to get a smile from his goddess, Daphne? Then what did I do wrong? My mind went completely blank for a few seconds. It wasn’t until a wave of grievance and anger washed over me that I realized my entire right shoulder was numb. My right hand had completely lost feeling. When I opened my mouth, all that came out was a sob: “Help…” “Wow, Daphne, this photo of you is so beautiful! I’ve known you for seven years and this is the first time I’ve seen you smile!” Lucas picked up my phone and showed off the photo to everyone like he was presenting a treasure. “Yeah, Dr. Price, you really should smile more. You’re too pretty!” “Lucas, hurry up and pull your girlfriend up. How could you do that?” Lucas laughed, saying it was nothing, and crouched down to dig me out of the snow: “Stella is actually a comedy vlogger in private. We’re always playing pranks on each other, like bros. She’s fine…” Suddenly meeting my dim, lifeless eyes, Lucas’s words stopped abruptly. Digging further down and seeing my unnaturally twisted right arm, panic finally set in. 03 “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Stella. I was just joking…” My right shoulder had been pierced by a tree root, and I lost a lot of blood. I was rushed into the ER. The Chief of Surgery and the Vice President of the hospital had just gotten off a back-to-back shift. Seeing me, their faces changed color, and they hurried in one after another to start resuscitation. Lucas held my hand tightly, the corners of his eyes red. He kept wiping the snow off my face over and over again, trembling all over in panic. He was blocked outside the resuscitation room. In the very last second before the doors closed, I calmly said one word to him: “Scram.” 04 When I woke up in the hospital room, Daphne was asking a nurse about my medication from last night. The room was filled with a sweet fragrance. The cloying scent of plum blossom essential oil on her even masked the smell of disinfectant. Beside my pillow was Daphne’s phone. The screen was still on; she had posted that group snow photo on Instagram. Lucas was the first to like and comment: [Daphne, you really should smile more. You look beautiful when you smile.] I froze for a few seconds. My gaze fell on the medical chart next to the phone. I don’t know if it was carelessness or intentional, but my chart had been casually tossed there by Daphne. I am also a surgeon; I can read a chart. My right hand would never hold a scalpel again. 05 The sound of flipping pages was exceptionally clear. Daphne looked back at me, coldly pulled the chart away, and said nothing. Although we were from the same medical school and became colleagues, we weren’t very close. Daphne rarely interacted with men, and she didn’t interact with women at all. We had nothing to say to each other. “Is Stella awake? I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Lucas’s voice broke the silence of the room. He had just finished an all-night surgery. His handsome face was covered in sweat. His tall figure carefully approached the bed, and he grasped my hand through the blanket. “I really was just trying to play a joke on you back then. I’m sorry, Stella.” “I’ve already notified your parents. Don’t worry!” “…You only have a fracture. In a few days, after a minor surgery performed by our old Chief himself—I’ll be there too—your right hand will definitely recover!” Lucas’s voice trembled at the end. Like a helpless child, he lowered his head and rubbed my fingers over and over again. Seeing that I wasn’t speaking, he gave a stiff smile and tremblingly pulled a velvet box from his pocket. “Sorry, look at my memory! Actually, yesterday, I wanted to propose to you.” 06 I don’t know when Daphne had slipped out. Lucas’s eyes were burning with deep affection as he looked at me: “It’s never snowed this beautifully in Seattle. I just wanted to take advantage of the heavy snow to propose to you… You know, make you mad first and then bring out the surprise. You know, like they do online. I really just wanted to joke with you! It’s my fault, I’m an idiot. I promise there won’t be a next time!” But inside the box was a very ordinary ring. It didn’t look carefully prepared at all. Did I believe him? Lucas grabbed my numb right hand: “Marry me, Stella Mitchell.” The air was terrifyingly quiet. You could almost hear the sound of the IV fluid dripping drop by drop. Suddenly, I laughed. Lucas immediately let out a sigh of relief. He proactively pressed his cheek into my palm, rubbing it affectionately like a puppy seeking attention. “Look at your silly face.” Using my still-functional left hand, I grabbed him by the hair, my eyes cold and dark: “You’re still thinking about proposing at a time like this? Go to the police station and make a statement first. You’ve committed intentional assault.” “Angering me was for the proposal? Don’t make excuses for your mistakes. At that moment, you clearly just wanted to make me look like a fool to amuse your goddess. Do you think I’m stupid?” “Also, the people you should apologize to the most are my patients. They waited so long for a chance to get surgery. Only I and the 96-year-old professor can perform this specialized surgery. Now that my hand is ruined, who will help them?” 07 Lucas opened and closed his mouth, guilt rendering him speechless after his lie was exposed. I was left alone in the quiet room. The water stains from the melting snow on the ceiling slowly spread, just like my future, lost and without direction. I closed my eyes, and the eager faces of my patients flashed rapidly through my mind. How would I explain this to them from now on? “Lucas, you really can’t be blamed. No one can predict accidents. Stella is a girl, after all; she needs more coaxing. She’ll be fine once she thinks it through.” Hearing the voice, my eyes snapped open. Daphne was standing outside the room, comforting Lucas. “I guess this is why I don’t like getting close to anyone. I can’t bring myself to take out my anger on innocent people. Just because he’s a boyfriend, does he get blamed unconditionally? I look down on this kind of unreasonable woman.” I almost thought I was hallucinating. What was Daphne barking about? Lucas sighed heavily and said hoarsely: “Daphne, you’re right. I understand what you mean. No matter what, it’s my fault. I love her, and I can’t be as clear-headed and rational as you.” “You really care about Stella too, don’t you? Staying outside her room personally… I thank you on her behalf. You should go back and rest.” Through the gaps in the blinds, I could vaguely see Daphne standing in front of Lucas. Lucas rubbed his face helplessly, and finally, reverently and gently leaned on Daphne— “Thank you, Daphne.” …… I picked up the phone expressionlessly: “Hello, 911? I was maliciously injured by a male colleague. I suspect they are plotting a murder!” 08 I met Lucas in college. If there was anything about him that moved me, sincerity was probably his only winning trait. He held nothing back from me, unconditionally siding with me in everything, like a very silly, very clumsy puppy who loved to wag his tail frantically at his owner. I didn’t need to question his sincerity. I just needed to slowly teach him how to love, how to interact… But I didn’t want to accompany a boy as he grew up anymore. He could give his sincerity to me, but his soul would always lean towards that sacred, pure goddess. He disgusted me. My parents rushed to the police station and strongly supported my decision after learning what happened. What kind of joke involves slamming your girlfriend to the ground without hesitation? He ruined my future. And he had the audacity to tell my parents afterward: I slipped in the hospital because I wasn’t careful and broke my arm. 09 Faced with all my accusations, Lucas didn’t refute a single word and accepted any punishment. In the end, it was the hospital president and the department chief who stepped forward to mediate, hoping to keep the matter quiet. Lucas would face an indefinite suspension. The lawyers would negotiate a settlement amount for a private resolution. They just pleaded with me not to send him to jail, which would leave a negative stain on the hospital’s reputation. Besides, my 96-year-old mentor was hospitalized in a coma. Everyone wanted to avoid a huge scandal that might distress the old man. A private settlement was fine. Let Lucas get the money ready then. The hospital arranged surgery for me as quickly as possible, allowing me to heal my right hand first without worrying about anything else. But on my first day admitted as a patient, a fight broke out at the nurses’ station over overtime. The surgical department was short two doctors. All schedules and surgeries had to be rearranged, and the workload had increased tremendously. Daphne, passing by during rounds, stopped in front of the nurses’ station and said coldly: “Complaining is useless. If nurses are tired, aren’t doctors tired too?” “It was clearly just an accident, but Dr. Mitchell threw a tantrum and blew things out of proportion. She even got her boyfriend suspended. You can’t blame anyone else.” “Don’t mind me being blunt; I’m just telling the truth.” 10 The staff at the nurses’ station froze. They weren’t at the scene, so they didn’t know the whole story. And since it was Daphne—the aloof goddess who usually hated gossip—her words naturally carried weight. Just as Daphne turned to leave, I marched out and grabbed her wrist— “If you have something to say, Dr. Price, say it straight. Don’t be passive-aggressive. What do you mean I blew things out of proportion?” “Listen up, everyone. I am the one who was hurt! Put yourselves in my shoes: if your boyfriend threw you to the ground for no reason, breaking your arm so you could never hold a scalpel again, and then claimed it was just a joke, an accident—would you not be angry? Would you not hold him accountable? If not, then you’re truly saints!” The nurses’ faces changed. I pulled out the group photo and slammed it on the desk: “When it happened, Dr. Price was right there. When Lucas slammed me, you smiled brighter than anyone! What were you thinking? Were you that happy?” Daphne swayed on her feet, biting her lower lip tightly, the color draining from her face. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, a strong force pushed me away from behind. Lucas stepped between us, shielding Daphne. “Stella, Daphne doesn’t understand all this petty drama between you women! Stop talking. Everything is my fault.” 11 “Dr. Price clearly started it. Everyone heard her. I’d be pissed too if it were me. Her boyfriend is a total psycho! But even if a stranger suddenly got body-slammed, she shouldn’t have laughed, right?” A young nurse suddenly spoke up, honestly sharing her perspective. Daphne’s face was as pale as frost. Her gaze was like shattered jade—fragile and pitiable. Suddenly, she grabbed her files and turned away coldly: “Think whatever you want. I don’t care what others think.” “Daphne, you don’t need to pay for anything with your smile! You felt happy at the time, so you smiled. Are you wrong?” Lucas stubbornly blocked Daphne, then softened his gaze, stepped in front of me, and whispered: “Stella, apologize to Daphne. How can we work together if things are so tense? Besides, she’s taking on both of our workloads. She’s exhausted, and it’s not easy for her.” As soon as he said this, the surrounding nurses gasped collectively. Bound by the presence of patients, they could only curse Lucas with their eyes. I grabbed the rubbing alcohol from the desk, unscrewed the cap, and poured it directly over Lucas’s head— “Looks like your brain is full of filth. Let me disinfect it for you.” “Hilarious. I should apologize to Daphne? Have you been a simp for so long you’ve forgotten who you are?” “There are things I didn’t want to say, but she took my workload? Does she have the ability to? Stop pretending to be some long-suffering martyr! I became a doctor to save lives, not to cater to her moods. And saying ‘how can we work together if things are tense’—when someone isn’t smiling and she just stands there grinning like an idiot, she deserves to be scolded. She laughed the loudest. Do I need to pick an auspicious day to curse her out?” 12 The entire hospital corridor fell silent. Many people were stunned by my outburst. Even patients’ families ran to the doorway to watch the drama. Daphne leaned halfway against the wall, her expression lost and helpless, her body swaying as if she would collapse to the ground the next second. A male patient, unaware of the situation, tried to help Daphne, slowly maneuvering his wheelchair closer. I suddenly smirked and said sarcastically: “Help me analyze this, everyone. Our mentor only took on two female students, and both of us ended up in Surgery at Hospital A. I’m younger, but I can perform specialized surgeries. Did I get in someone’s way?” One sentence woke everyone up. Now, Daphne’s two-faced behavior had a reasonable explanation. Daphne forced a bitter smile and lowered her eyes despondently: “Say whatever you want. I won’t defend myself. I only want to focus on medicine.” But the onlookers didn’t see it that way: “No wonder she smiled so happily. She must be jealous to death of Dr. Mitchell!” “Makes sense. A normal person wouldn’t smile like that, right? I never expected Dr. Price to be…” Lucas clenched his fists and suddenly yelled at me: “Enough, Stella Mitchell! Is it necessary to target Daphne like this?! How could she be that kind of person? Don’t drag her into the issues between us!” The situation was getting out of hand. Even the head nurse and the department chief were alarmed. Security guards were trying to stop people from filming. Amidst the chaos, the male patient in the wheelchair looked at me blankly: “Dr. Mitchell? What do you mean your hand is ruined?” 13 His name was Arthur Vance. He was my patient, actively cooperating with treatment. His surgery was originally scheduled for next week. “I went all over the country for this disease. Only Professor Wood understands it, and he said his student, Stella Mitchell, could save me.” “I’m supposed to have surgery soon. What does this mean now? …Can you not treat me?” In an instant, the three of us froze. The unshakable bottom line in my heart brought forth immense guilt. Lucas was the first to bow and apologize to the patient. I, too, lowered my head to apologize and explain. Daphne approached the wheelchair with red-rimmed eyes. For the first time, she offered gentle comfort: “Don’t worry. Let me look at your medical records. I will definitely cure your disease.” Arthur’s eyes were red. He angrily pushed Daphne away: “Who the hell are you? Professor Wood said only Stella Mitchell could save me. Do you have the ability, or are you just talking big?” 14 Daphne stared at him blankly. Her immense pride was instantly crushed; she couldn’t utter a word in rebuttal. She bit her bloodless lip and, under the scrutiny of the crowd, gathered her files and left. “Daphne!” Lucas immediately chased after her. My research focused on a rare spinal disease that manifests in adulthood. After onset, patients basically rely on wheelchairs, live in excruciating pain, and must have surgery as soon as possible. Because it’s a spinal surgery, it requires extreme precision and theoretical knowledge. The risks and difficulties are high. Among the many students our mentor had taught, only I barely met the standard. Now that my future was ruined, those patients who missed their chance for treatment might really have no hope left. No one suffered more than they did. The hospital also understood the gravity of the situation. They didn’t pursue my responsibility for the argument. They added another demerit to the suspended Lucas and issued a warning to Daphne. My room was upgraded to a private one. As if holding onto a grudge to cure Arthur, Daphne applied to the department chief to take over the patient. She did rounds three times a day to analyze the progress of his condition, prescribed a lot of medication to relieve his pain and inflammation, and promised to operate on him in a week. Several times, I was afraid something might go wrong and wanted to observe, but Daphne shut me out. “Don’t mess around! You don’t have experience in this area. Just take the medicine I prescribed before and wait until your right hand recovers!” Daphne’s eyes were indifferent, her face as cold as a snow lotus on a high mountain peak: “Stella, I am also Professor Wood’s student, and my ability is no worse than yours. Are you worried I’ll steal your thunder now?” I felt a chill run down my spine. Even the nurses were doubtful. They secretly told me that the medicine Daphne prescribed was useless. Arthur was quite optimistic when he was admitted. Now, he was in so much pain every night that he couldn’t sleep, banging his head against the wall. During the day, he threw tantrums, yelling that he didn’t want to live anymore. He seemed like a completely different person. “Dr. Mitchell, I can’t even imagine. What if Daphne messes up the treatment, Arthur might…” I immediately texted the department chief. The chief, based on protocol, contacted the psychiatric department for an evaluation first. After worrying for a few days, I received a private message on my social media account, submitted at 3 AM: [Can I make a wish to Jane? I have a terminal illness that can’t be cured. I want to see something happy.] I secretly run a comedy account called [Jane]. I post prank videos every week to treat my fans, based on their submissions, and donate all the proceeds. However, I only accept submissions from patients with terminal illnesses, severe diseases, or those who have lost hope, using a different way to make them happy. [I know the rules. I’ll take a picture of my medical record for you. Can you understand this rare disease?] I recognized it immediately as Arthur’s medical record. Based on his submission, I ordered glow sticks and a frog suit from a nearby supermarket, got the fastest courier to deliver them to the hospital, and told him not to lose hope, that his disease could be cured, and to wait for my video today. About two hours later, there was a knock on the hospital room door. “Thanks for getting the package. The hospital not letting patients go downstairs to get it is really—” I froze when I looked up. It was Lucas. He was holding a thermos and a lunchbox. He casually dropped a large bag of packages on the table and frowned as he advised me: “Filming comedy videos again?” “How much money can those videos make? You’re sick and you’re still doing this?” “Stella, sometimes I really don’t understand you. Why do girls intentionally make themselves look ugly and cheap? Can’t you be a bit more dignified and elegant?” 15 Cheap. So this is how Lucas had always viewed me. Compared to his elegant, dignified goddess Daphne, I was very cheap. So an over-the-shoulder throw as a joke didn’t matter. I was just a worthless joke. “Can I help you? Oh, I forgot. The lawyers must have finished talking. Are you here to pay the compensation?” My sharp words deeply pierced Lucas. His shoulders slumped. Sighing, he took out a bank card and offered it to me with both hands, his voice trembling: “Please, drink the soup my mom made first, okay? It’s good for your body.” I snatched it away and shoved it into my pocket. Grabbing the package, I walked away without looking back: “How much is on this card? Has it been notarized by a lawyer? I don’t accept installments; you better pay it all off at once!” I found an empty spot in the stairwell, put on the frog suit, and recorded “(G)I-DLE – Queencard.” Halfway through the dance, I suddenly heard Daphne and Lucas talking behind the fire door. Daphne’s cold voice was exceptionally clear: “Honestly, Lucas, that’s all your savings for getting married and buying a house. I don’t recommend you empty your bank account. Besides, you didn’t do anything wrong.” “I understand, Daphne. Actually, I don’t care about the money. It’s all going to be spent on Stella anyway. It was supposed to be her bride price and the money for the house.” My fists clenched. Just as I was about to burst out, I saw Daphne lower her eyes and smile slightly. Her radiant smile left Lucas dumbfounded. “I can’t understand you people with ‘love brain’. You have hands and feet, and you chose to marry. Why do you still need the other half to give a bride price and buy a house? It’s like you sold yourself for a price. I look down on that kind of woman, haha.” “I understand, Daphne. There are too few women in the world as clear-headed and independent as you. You deserve…” Before he could finish, I slammed the fire door open, rushed out, and punched Lucas hard: “You’re really talking out of your ass! It makes me sick!” Since I was wearing a frog suit and could act crazy as I pleased, I flying-kicked Daphne in the face. There were garlic sprouts growing in water on the windowsill, belonging to a patient’s family. I grabbed them and shoved them directly into her mouth: “Eat more garlic, since you’re so good at pretending! When will your medical skills be as magical as your pretentiousness?” Daphne’s thin body couldn’t stop trembling, and broken tears rolled down. While she was whimpering, I used my head to shove Lucas aside and sprinted away. Just as I took a step, an unusual dark shadow swept rapidly past the window, plummeting to the ground on the first floor like a bomb. BANG! A loud noise. Once everyone realized what it was, they were all stunned. 16 Arthur had climbed to the roof while pretending to go to the bathroom and jumped from the 16th floor of the inpatient building. He left only a note: [It hurts too much. I can’t be cured.] The psychiatric evaluation confirmed he had a severe mental illness. I forget how I ended up following the crowd to the first floor. My colleagues, not recognizing me in my frog suit, squeezed me to the back. On my phone was Arthur’s last private message: [Thank you, vlogger, but I have no hope.] Those black and white words gradually blurred with tears. For the first time in my life, I felt suffocated and powerless. It was truly awful. “Daphne! Daphne!” Lucas’s heart-wrenching screams came from the crowd. Daphne was the first to jump onto the stretcher. Her stunningly beautiful face was smeared with blood, and the wind gently lifted her long hair. She looked shattered and desolate. She reached out trembling to feel Arthur’s pulse. The moment her fingertips touched him, her slender body suddenly lost all strength and fell backward, like a feather dropping into the crowd, ready to be crushed with the slightest pressure— “Is there something wrong with her brain?! Does she think she’s filming a movie?! If she’s not going to resuscitate him, she needs to get the hell out of the way! Get her out of here!” The head nurse exploded with thunderous rage and cursed. Lucas immediately rushed up, caught Daphne, scooped her up, and ran towards the emergency room. On his way, I blocked him. “Stella, don’t cause a scene. Daphne is in critical condition!” I slapped Lucas expressionlessly. He froze. I took off my glove and pinched his chin hard: “I just want to tell you, this is the first life you’ve indirectly taken. You will pay for this.”

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Everyone always said that my sister and I didn’t look like siblings. Luna was beautiful, brilliant, and talented in music and art. She was always top of her class and our parents’ absolute pride and joy. I was the exact opposite. Overweight, slow, and incapable of doing anything right. Whenever my parents looked at me, their eyes were full of disappointment. “If only Stella were even half as perfect as her sister.” Every time that happened, Luna would gently stop our parents from scolding me. She would walk up to me, smiling softly, and offer her encouragement. “Stella, as long as you work hard, I’m sure you can be just as amazing as I am.” When she said that, I never understood the strange, unreadable glint in her eyes. 1 For a long time, I actually believed her. I thought that if I just worked hard enough, I could close the gap between us. So, to improve my grades, I stayed up studying and doing practice tests until 2 AM every night. To look better, I went jogging and jumped rope every day after school, and practically starved myself at dinner. But none of it worked. My grades were still at the bottom of the class. My body only grew heavier. My parents, who used to dote on me, started looking at me with utter despair. “Stella really is a lost cause.” “Sigh… if we only had Luna, our lives would be so much easier right now…” During the holidays, my parents would buy gifts, but only for Luna. When I was younger, I used to foolishly run up to my dad and pull on his sleeve. “Dad, where’s mine? Did you forget me?” My dad would shake my hand off, looking annoyed. “This is a reward for Luna’s excellence. She got first place and won a huge award. What did you do?” When I had a high fever, my parents left me home alone to attend Luna’s parent-teacher conference. Those conferences weren’t even important, but they loved basking in the endless praise the teachers showered on “Luna’s parents.” Even my friends slowly started to hate me. No matter how hard I tried to hold onto them, they would inevitably abandon me to hang out with Luna. Eventually, Luna was the only person in the world who was nice to me. Whenever I felt deeply defeated and wanted to give up, she would always be right there, encouraging me with everything she had. “Maybe you just aren’t working hard enough. Or maybe your methods are wrong,” she would say gently. “Why don’t you try a different approach?” People around us would sigh. “Luna, you’re just too kind. You’re the only person in the world who hasn’t given up on your sister.” “Seriously, if I were a natural-born loser like Stella, I would have killed myself and hoped to respawn with better stats.” “Don’t talk about my sister like that!” Luna would frown and scold them playfully, then grab my hand. “Stella, promise me you’ll never stop trying. Okay?” I would nod forcefully, and Luna would smile. I always thought her smile was beautiful. Until I discovered her secret. 2 It was a quiet night during my senior year of high school when I found out Luna was bound to a “System.” I was hiding out on the balcony when I overheard Luna talking to the System. “Stella is such an idiot. She’s up studying past midnight again, and she’s still going to rank dead last on the next exam. I’m dying laughing. “Looking back, Mom and Dad picked the perfect names. I’m Luna, the moon, and she’s Stella, the star. Stars only exist to make the moon look brighter. “Thank you, System. Thank you for being with me these past twelve years.” It felt like a bomb went off in my head. Suddenly, memories from the past flooded my mind. Twelve years ago, Luna and I were six years old. Back then, I was pretty and smart. In kindergarten, I was the one singing and dancing on stage, and I helped the teacher clean up after class. Luna was lazy. She had no interest in singing, hated practicing dance, and basically learned nothing. When guests came over, everyone would crowd around me, asking me to perform, praising me for being so bright and talented. They would look at Luna, who stood to the side knowing how to do nothing, and say, “Your sister is so amazing, Luna! You need to work hard to catch up!” Maybe that was the exact moment Luna started to hate the concept of “hard work.” When her System appeared, she decisively chose the “The Lazier I Am, The Luckier I Get” trait for herself. And for me, she chose “The Harder I Work, The Unluckier I Get.” And just like that, over the course of the next twelve years, exactly as she wished, the gap between us widened. She put in zero effort but became more and more perfect. I gave everything I had, only to become more and more miserable. … That night, after learning her secret, I quietly slipped away. I sat outside in the freezing night air wearing only a thin sweater for three hours. My body was numb from the cold, but all I could see in my mind was the smile Luna wore every time she encouraged me to “work harder.” When I was little, I never knew what to call that strange glint in her eyes when she smiled at me. Now I knew. It was called pure malice. The sister I trusted the most. The sister who told me to never give up. It turned out she was just using my blood, sweat, and tears as fuel to power her own glamorous, perfect life. She was the main character of this world. And my only function was to stand in the shadows forever, serving as her pathetic background prop. —But I refused to accept that. I was going to change my destiny. … With nothing left to lose, I thought of a plan and sneaked into the school’s broadcasting room. I put my hand on the microphone switch and started chanting in my head. “Calling System. Calling System.” There was no answer. After all, it was Luna’s System, not mine. But I knew that if it was an otherworldly power, it had to be able to monitor my thoughts. “Calling System—it’s fine if you ignore me, but do you see the PA microphone in my hand? I’m assuming your existence is supposed to be a secret, right? Here’s the deal: if you don’t respond in 60 seconds, I’m going to broadcast your existence on a loop to the entire school. Then I’m going to post it all over social media and write letters to scientific research facilities, telling them to come dissect Luna and her little parasitic System…” “60, 59, 58…” I only got to 50 before a burst of static buzzed in my head. Then, a weak, panicked voice spoke up. “…Please don’t do that. No one will believe you anyway.” “How about we find out?” “…What do you want?” “Swap my System with my sister’s.” “I can’t do that. Once my functions are set, they can’t be altered.” I immediately reached to flip the microphone switch. “…Wait! Stop! Have mercy!” the System wailed. “How about this… what if I just do nothing?” “Nothing?” “Right. Even though I can’t alter the functions, I can… malfunction…” I thought about it. That meant, starting today, I would finally get exactly what I worked for. And my sister’s luck from being lazy would vanish. I paused. “Add one more condition.” “What?” “Keep this a secret from my sister. “Let her keep thinking this world is still revolving around her.” 3 The next day, I arrived at school early, just like always. To build up my stamina, I ran two laps around the track every morning. As I jogged slowly around the field, I saw Luna sitting in the bleachers eating breakfast with two of her friends. “Luna, your sister is running again.” “Look at her fat jiggling everywhere when she runs, hahahaha.” Luna replied dismissively, “My sister just has terrible genetics.” Her two friends agreed, their voices filled with envy. “Ugh, I’m so jealous of you, Luna! You eat non-stop all day, chocolates, chips, zero exercise, but you have huge boobs, a tiny waist, long legs, and abs!” “You totally hit the genetic lottery. You just don’t gain weight.” “Why didn’t your sister get those genes? She runs all day and doesn’t lose a pound.” I ignored their mocking and kept running. Starting today, my running wasn’t useless anymore. Unlike before, where I only felt sheer exhaustion, this time I could feel the heat radiating from my forehead and the sweat pouring down my face. My calories were burning. My fat was melting. I was going to get thin. After my run, I grabbed my backpack to head to class. As if remembering something, I turned back and looked up at Luna, who was lounging in the bleachers. “Sister, don’t be late for class.” There was two seconds of silence in the bleachers, followed by a burst of raucous laughter. “Luna, your sister is actually telling you to go to class.” “Even the Dean of Students doesn’t care if you go to class, and she’s trying to boss you around?” “Get lost, loser. You don’t understand the world of geniuses.” It was true. The teachers at our school turned a blind eye to Luna skipping class. The reason was simple: she skipped class, never did homework, never studied, but every time there was a major exam, she always ranked #1 in the entire city. But from now on… she wouldn’t be so lucky. I shrugged and headed to my classroom. I couldn’t wait for first period to begin. The feeling of knowledge actually sticking in my brain was incredible! I soaked up the lessons like a sponge, eager to go home and tackle practice exams. But on my way home, I ran into Luna and the school’s resident golden boy, Caleb Vance. Caleb’s luxury sports car was parked nearby. It looked like he was inviting Luna to a party. When Luna saw me walking by, she immediately stepped forward and grabbed my hand. “I’m not going. I have to walk my sister home.” Caleb was furious. He glared at me. “Stella, did you tell Luna she couldn’t go? “How many more obstacles are you going to throw in our way just because of that stupid marriage contract?” Oh, I almost forgot. This guy—Caleb Vance, the heir to the Vance empire, the guy Luna was secretly obsessed with but pretended not to care about—was technically my fiancé. 4 When I was five, I called 911 when Caleb’s grandfather had a heart attack, saving his life. Out of gratitude, Mr. Vance arranged a childhood marriage pact between me and his grandson. Back then, Caleb treated me really well. He would protect me when other kids bullied me. He would carry me on his back when I scraped my knee. When the other kids teased him, calling us a married couple, he wouldn’t get mad. He even shared his snacks and toys with me, saying very seriously, “Since we’re going to get married, what’s mine is yours.” Later, Caleb moved out of state for school. He only returned when we were in high school. The day I found out he transferred to our school, I ran out excitedly to greet him. That day, Caleb was surrounded by his new, popular friends. When they saw me, they started cheering and teasing, “Hey Caleb, your fiancée is here!” In the past, Caleb would have laughed along with jokes like that. But this time, his face was as cold as ice. He took one look at me and turned his head away in disgust. “Shut up. I barely know her.” After school that day, I locked myself in my room and cried for a long time. Luna, noticing my sadness, immediately ran in to comfort me. “Nobody hates someone who treats them well,” her voice was soothing, almost hypnotic. “If you just try harder to show him you care, I’m sure he’ll be nice to you again.” I believed her. So when Caleb injured himself playing basketball, I brought him a first-aid kit. And what happened next was… Caleb took the entire bottle of red antiseptic and poured it directly over my head in front of everyone. He looked down at me, dripping red liquid, a cruel smirk on his lips. “There’s nothing I hate more in this world than a desperate, clinging loser. “Stella, stop making me sick.” After I ran away crying, I told Luna what happened. She frowned and blamed me. “You just used the wrong approach. You made him mad. I suggest you write him an apology letter.” I didn’t want to write one. So Luna ran to our parents and told them I had offended Caleb and ruined the Vance family alliance. My parents panicked. They forced me to write the letter and hand-deliver it to Caleb. Caleb stood in front of the entire class and read the letter out loud like it was a comedy routine. “What does this even mean, ‘I don’t want to ruin the relationship between our families’? Stella, are you trying to use my grandfather to threaten me? “Newsflash: I’m not afraid of anything.” That day, Caleb went home demanding to cancel the engagement, only backing down after his grandfather beat him with a cane. But his hatred for me only grew deeper. When my parents heard about it, they sighed endlessly. “If only Caleb were engaged to our Luna instead.” Luna played the understanding daughter. “Mom, Dad, I would never steal my sister’s man. I won’t do anything.” And she truly did nothing. But Caleb became addicted to her. “Stella’s sister is so pretty, and she actually has a personality,” he’d say. Caleb started chasing after Luna. The more she ignored him, the more curious he became. The colder she was, the more he felt she was unique. In short, Luna did absolutely nothing, yet effortlessly captured the frantic obsession of the Vance empire’s heir. Everyone said she wasn’t just a natural-born genius, she was a natural-born goddess. It wasn’t until I learned about the System that I finally understood Luna’s strategy. In my relationship with Caleb, the harder I tried, the more my “unlucky” trait made him despise me. And the colder she was, the more she rejected him, her “lucky” trait made Caleb fall deeper into obsession. This way, my engagement to Caleb would inevitably fall apart, and she could step in to marry into the Vance family. Just like right now, as Luna continued to glare coldly at Caleb. “I don’t want to go to your birthday party. And also—stop coming to find me.” With that, she turned to walk away. In the past, this move always worked perfectly for Luna. According to their usual dynamic, Caleb’s obsession would spike. He would block her path, begging her to get in the car until she finally relented with a stoic face, sliding into the passenger seat of his luxury car while basking in the envious stares of every student around them. To give Caleb enough time to stop her, Luna intentionally walked very slowly. And Caleb did speak up. “If you don’t want to go, then don’t.” He scratched his head, sounding irritated. “Always making it seem like I’m begging you. It gets exhausting.” I watched Luna’s footsteps grind to a violent halt. She couldn’t help but look back, staring at Caleb in utter disbelief. Just like how my body wouldn’t instantly become skinny the second the System turned off, Caleb’s feelings for Luna didn’t vanish instantly either. When he saw her abruptly turn around, his foul mood immediately brightened. “See? You actually did want to go. You’re just playing hard to get,” Caleb smirked, pulling open the car door. “Alright, you win. Get in.” If Luna had gotten in the car right then, her relationship with Caleb probably would have continued to progress. But Luna just assumed Caleb’s attitude shift was the System working its magic again. So she let out a cold laugh, putting on her icy-goddess arrogance. “Caleb, I know your family is rich and powerful, and every girl fawns over you. But I’m not like them. Don’t think I’ll fall for you that easily.” With that, Luna turned and walked away. Her face wore a look of absolute certainty. She knew that her rejection would only make Caleb think she was even more special. But actually, if Luna had looked back at that moment, she would have seen that Caleb’s expression wasn’t one of intrigued admiration. On the contrary, his face had turned completely dark. Sliding into the driver’s seat, Caleb scowled and muttered to his friend in the passenger seat: “Who the hell does she think she is?” 5 Unfortunately, Luna, who was already walking away, didn’t hear Caleb’s comment. So she remained happily trapped in her beautiful illusion, convinced everything was going perfectly. Even though the System’s responses had become noticeably vague and evasive lately, she didn’t care at all. She continued skipping her study sessions, continued gorging herself on junk food, and continued watching me study late into the night. She offered her gentle encouragement while that mocking, malicious glint danced in her eyes. She didn’t realize that everything was quietly shifting. Soon, the first major city-wide mock exam arrived. The moment the test papers were handed out, I looked at the questions and felt a surge of hot blood rushing through my chest. I could feel it—every ounce of effort I had ever put in hadn’t been wasted. All those vocabulary words I memorized late at night, all those practice problems I solved… they were all stored perfectly in my brain. The only difference was that previously, due to the System’s interference, the knowledge points were locked behind thick mental walls. I couldn’t connect them. But right now, all those walls were shattered. Everything finally clicked. As I looked at the questions, every single one felt incredibly familiar. I had encountered variations of them thousands of times during those endless nights of studying. Now, they were just presenting themselves in a slightly different format, but they were old friends. This was the true meaning of “hard work paying off.” I breezed through the questions one by one. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Luna, sitting diagonally in front of me, rapidly filling in her scantron bubble sheet. Luna always finished her exams much faster than everyone else. I used to think it was because she was exceptionally brilliant. Only later did I realize it was the “luck” granted to her by the System. Whether it was multiple-choice or fill-in-the-blank, whatever answer she randomly guessed turned out to be right. On essays, she could scribble down absolute nonsense and still get partial credit for her “steps.” With the overwhelming power of the “The Lazier I Am, The Luckier I Get” System, even if she didn’t know half the material, she would still score incredibly high. Clearly, Luna was still taking the test exactly as she always did. Soon, the bell rang, and we handed in our papers. Outside the testing room, everyone gathered in the hallway to compare answers. A crowd formed around Luna. “Goddess! Question 8 on the multiple-choice was so hard. Did you put C or D?” Luna replied casually, “C.” The students who picked C cheered immediately, while the D group groaned in despair. Everyone trusted Luna’s authority. As the undefeated academic queen, her answers were basically gospel. I stood nearby with my backpack and asked quietly, “Why is it C?” Luna paused and looked over at me. She probably couldn’t fathom why a loser who failed the easy questions had the audacity to ask about the hardest one. She said impatiently, “Even if I explained it, you wouldn’t understand.” Luna’s friends immediately chimed in to mock me. “Exactly. The calculation is way too complex. With Stella’s brain, there’s no way she’d get it.” “Focus on getting the basic questions right first. You’re never going to get points on a question like that anyway.” I pressed my lips together and sneered internally. The correct answer was absolutely D. Luna had no idea how to solve it. She had just blindly guessed, fully expecting that, just like before, whatever she wrote down would magically become the right answer. I looked at Luna’s aloof, falsely confident expression, feeling utterly amused. But on the outside, I just took a timid step back. “Oh… I see…” Suddenly, someone behind me gently supported my elbow. It was the class president, Harper Evans. Harper was also a brilliant student. She had tied for first place with Luna once before. With a polite, investigative tone, she asked Luna, “Luna, I calculated it three times and kept getting D. Could you explain why it’s C?” The students who had chosen D immediately perked up, refusing to give up hope. “Yeah, Goddess, walk us through it!” “Even if I got it wrong, I at least want to know why.” Luna’s face turned pale. She couldn’t explain it. Because she just picked C. After a moment of silence, Luna spoke coldly. “I’m tired. When the answer key comes out, read the explanation yourself or ask a teacher. I’m not obligated to tutor you.” With that, she turned and walked away. In the past, Luna had always acted cold and dismissive toward her classmates, but she was still incredibly popular. But this time, Harper frowned first. “I just wanted to ask her a question. Just because she has good grades doesn’t mean she has to be so rude.” Other students whispered in agreement. “Yeah, Harper, your grades are amazing too, and you don’t act arrogant like her.” As they murmured, they started walking toward the cafeteria. I planned to go eat by myself, but out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a bloodstain blooming on the back of Harper’s pants. I hesitated for a second, then hurried over to Harper and quietly whispered to her. … In the restroom, I handed Harper a pad from my bag. “You can tie your school jacket around your waist, and I brought an extra pair of sweatpants. If you don’t mind borrowing them…” My tone was a bit timid. After all, in the past, whenever I tried to help someone, it always backfired. But this time, things seemed different. Harper looked at me deeply, a hint of confusion in her eyes. “Why did I always think you were so hard to get along with?” She scratched her head. “That’s so weird. You’re actually really nice.” Explaining the truth was too complicated, so I just smiled and turned to leave. But Harper called out to me. “Are you heading to the cafeteria too?” I turned back and received my first genuinely friendly smile since starting high school. “Let’s go together.” 6 And just like that, for the first time, I integrated into a friend group. After the exams, the teachers had a grading period. Some classmates organized a BBQ trip to relax, and I went too. When Luna arrived, she saw me sitting next to Harper, laughing and chatting with a group of girls. Her pupils dilated in shock. In the past, I had absolutely zero friends. My isolated, unlikable persona was the perfect foil to highlight her status as the beloved social butterfly. But now, I was roasting chicken wings and drinking Coke with everyone. Where was the outcast she knew? “…Stella.” Luna looked at me, frowning. “Why are you at a BBQ?” Before I could speak, Harper looked up, confused. “This is a class event. Isn’t Stella in our class?” Luna’s expression stiffened, but she quickly smoothed it into a gentle smile. “It’s not that I don’t want her here. You all know Stella’s grades aren’t great. She should be at home studying instead of goofing off here. As her sister, I’m just looking out for her…” Before Luna could finish her sentence, a girl nearby suddenly blurted out, “Hey, Luna, did you gain weight?” The moment she said that, all eyes instantly zeroed in on Luna. It was true. Since the System vanished, Luna had maintained her terrible eating habits, stuffing her face with junk food. Before, everyone wore baggy school uniforms, so it wasn’t obvious. But now, in her normal clothes, everyone could clearly see rolls of fat bulging over her waistband. Luna looked horrified. She didn’t have time to care about my sudden popularity anymore. She stared frantically at her waist. “That’s impossible,” she muttered. “I don’t gain weight. It’s just this shirt…” At the same time, the girl who had spoken up looked over at me. “Wow, Stella actually lost a ton of weight!” Luna’s head snapped up, staring at me in absolute disbelief. It was true. I had lost weight. Running every morning, combined with a disciplined, healthy diet over the past month and a half, had brought about visible changes. With the thick layer of fat gone, my jawline was sharp, my nose looked taller, my eyes seemed larger, and even my double eyelids were much more defined. Whispers broke out around us. “I’ve never noticed how pretty Stella is.” “Well, she and Luna are twins. Luna is the school beauty, so Stella’s genetics can’t be bad.” “I actually think Stella’s facial features are more delicate than Luna’s. If she keeps losing weight, she’ll definitely be prettier than her…” Aside from Luna glaring daggers at me, I felt another burning gaze locked onto me from a different angle. It was Caleb. He was staring at me, utterly mesmerized, his eyes cloudy with emotion. … That day, Luna went home early. As the BBQ was wrapping up, Caleb blocked my path. “Stella…” His voice was tight and raspy. “About what happened before… I’m sorry.” I actually wanted to tell Caleb to get out of my way because I needed to go home and study. But thinking about how Luna obsessed over his photos at home, a wave of pure malice surged in my heart. I gave Caleb a sweet, gentle smile. “It’s okay.” 7 When I got home, Luna was having a mental breakdown screaming at her System. “How is this happening?! Why am I getting fat? Why is Stella getting skinny and making friends?!” Oh. My dear sister. Are you already this devastated just from noticing these little changes? What if you knew that just moments ago, the Caleb you are so deeply obsessed with was no longer disgusted by your “stalker” fiancé? What if you knew he actually asked me out to a movie, and you had to watch him crumble? How hard would you break down then? But I didn’t want Luna to go completely insane just yet. So I waited calmly outside her room until she finished talking to her System. The System sounded terrified and evasive. “There might be some glitches lately. We are currently troubleshooting the issue…” Luna shrieked, “I don’t care about my looks or my popularity right now! My grades are fine, right?!” Actually, the System probably really wanted to tell her: No, your grades are completely screwed. But it remembered the deal it made with me. To avoid being exposed, the poor System had no choice but to lie. “No issues have been detected at this time.” Luna breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. As long as my grades are perfect, I can deal with everything else after graduation.” Soon, the day the mock exam results were announced arrived. Our homeroom teacher walked into the classroom with a bright smile. “The number one student in the city is from our class again.” The entire class turned to look at Luna. She leaned back lazily in her chair, tapping her nails on the desk, waiting to hear her name. “Let’s give a huge round of applause for our top student— “Harper Evans!” Luna froze. Harper’s eyes widened in shock and delight. I sat next to her, clapping wildly. I knew Harper came from a tough background. Her mom had remarried a deadbeat abuser. She wrote freelance articles to pay her own tuition while studying tirelessly. Her success was built entirely on her own blood, sweat, and tears. Every hard-working person deserves a round of applause. “We also have a student in our class who made extraordinary progress this time. That student is—Stella!” Hearing my name, I was slightly stunned. Even though I had a feeling my grades would be good this time, I still didn’t dare to get my hopes up too high. After all, I was so used to being beaten down, used to disappointment, used to getting absolutely nothing in return for my efforts. The teacher looked at me, holding up the ranking sheet. “On this exam, Stella jumped from her usual rank in the 1000s… straight to rank 36 in the entire grade! “What have I always told you? Never give up, never surrender. Hard work creates miracles. “Let’s all give a massive round of applause to Stella for creating a miracle!” The applause was thunderous, even louder than the applause for Harper moments before. Harper laughed, shaking my shoulder. “Hey, hey, why are you crying?” I didn’t want to cry, so I bit my lip hard, but I couldn’t stop my eyes from welling up. Twelve years. The endless cycle of failure and despair was finally over. I had used my own hard work to create a miracle. Amidst the roaring applause, Luna’s lips trembled. She couldn’t believe it. It was impossible. There was no way Stella could score this high. She was supposed to be the “The Harder I Work, The Unluckier I Get” girl! She must have cheated. She turned to look at me, intentionally lowering her voice to a level that sounded quiet, but was actually loud enough for everyone to hear. “Stella, I want you to have good grades too, but only on one condition…” Her lips moved, spitting out eight incredibly malicious words: “That these grades are actually real.” The room instantly went dead silent. Even the teacher at the podium heard her. Her face darkened. “Luna, are you accusing Stella of cheating?” Luna sat in her seat, head bowed, acting like she was torn in an intense moral dilemma before finally looking up at me with tears falling down her face. “Stella, I’m your sister. I can’t just watch you go down the wrong path.” Harper was the first to stand up. “Luna, if you’re calling your sister a cheater, show us the proof. What are you playing at?” Luna sniffled, looking victimized. “The exam was days ago. How could there be any proof left…?” In the back row, a figure suddenly stood up. It was Caleb. “Mrs. Miller,” his deep voice rang out. Everyone thought Caleb was going to defend Luna. After all, it was common knowledge that Luna was the untouchable goddess he pined for, while I was the pathetic, obsessive fiancée he despised. Luna thought so too. She looked at Caleb with tearful, pleading eyes, whispering, “Caleb, I remember the seating chart. You sat right behind my sister. If you saw anything, you can tell the truth.” Caleb glanced at Luna, then looked seriously at the teacher. “Yes. I sat right behind Stella. I didn’t see her cheat at all. If you don’t believe me, we can check the security cameras.” Luna’s eyes bulged in shock. Before she could say anything else, the teacher’s disappointed voice echoed from the podium. “Luna, is there something wrong with you lately? Do you have any idea how far your rank dropped on this exam? Exactly six hundred spots!” CRASH. Luna fell completely out of her chair and onto the floor.

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My sister and I are twins, but we are the extreme opposites of good and evil. She was born with the heart of a saint, treating everyone with kindness, but she was diagnosed with a mild intellectual disability. I have committed countless sins, was clinically diagnosed with the “Warrior Gene” linked to violent psychopathy, and was thrown into juvie for malicious assault. That was, until I found out my sister was being relentlessly bullied by her classmates. They livestreamed her on the Dark Web, letting the audience pay to decide how she would be tortured. The bullies refused to repent. They even bragged that in the next livestream, they would perform a DIY sex-change operation on her. A bullying livestream? I laughed. They didn’t know I was getting out. Because what I do best… is bullying. 1 When I was released from juvie, every single inmate in my cellblock breathed a massive sigh of relief. A fierce storm howled outside the detention center gates. Heavy snow swirled in the air. It wasn’t a good day. The person waiting for me outside wasn’t my sister, as we had promised. It was my mother, her hair completely white. Seeing her again, the usually optimistic, laid-back woman looked like she had aged decades overnight. Her eyes were swollen like walnuts, and she didn’t say a word. She didn’t take me home. Instead, she drove straight to the hospital. Through a layer of thick ICU glass, I saw my sister, her body covered in tubes, lying motionless on a hospital bed. My fist slammed into the glass. My heavy breathing instantly frosted the pane. “What happened?” With trembling hands, my mother held up her phone. Amidst the shrill, chaotic screaming coming from the speakers, my sister’s face—swollen like a water balloon—appeared on the screen. That was when I learned that my sister, who had been putting on a brave face all this time, was being brutally subjected to school bullying. This group of sociopaths wasn’t just bullying her; they recorded videos and livestreamed them on the Dark Web for crypto. In a livestream room titled “Cell 9,” a girl laughed as she used a black Sharpie to draw a turtle on my sister’s face, extending the head obscenely to resemble male genitalia. My sister’s entire face was red and bruised. Her normally bright, doe-like eyes were swollen shut into mere slits. Wherever the Sharpie dragged across her edematous skin, it left deep, humiliating indentations and searing pain. The camera shook. My sister was kneeling on the floor, stripped completely naked, with a dog leash strapped tightly around her neck, restricting her movement. In the video, three girls and one guy were laughing, each louder than the last. The ringleader, a brunette girl, yanked my sister’s hair back. After shaving her head in chaotic, ugly patches, she forced my sister to face the camera. “Be a good pet. Throw a peace sign for the VIP viewers.” A weak, raspy sound squeezed out from my sister’s throat. “You said… there was a stray kitten here that needed help… you lied to me.” Hearing this, the brunette looked up and exchanged incredulous glances with the others, as if saying, Look at this retard! She covered her mouth and snorted, making a fist like a cat paw and tilting her head in mock innocence. “Do I look like a little kitten to you? Meow~” Another burst of maniacal laughter followed. The guy behind the camera was already losing patience. He urged them on. “Why are you wasting time talking to this retard? Let’s get to the good stuff!” My poor sister was violently flipped upside down and pinned to the floor. Humiliated, she was forced to make a peace sign with her legs. The more frantic the bullies’ laughter became, the more donations flooded the chat screen. Once the brunette had her fun, she adjusted her hair, leaned into the lens, and licked her lips. “What do the VIPs want to see next? We can do anything.” Comments flew across the screen. “Have you guys ever done the live eel show? Let’s bring back a classic.” “+10086.” “I’ll fund this. Everyone else, match my donation.” 2 The brunette put on an exaggerated look of regret. “Ah, we couldn’t find the props on such short notice! We’ll do it next stream.” Another comment popped up: “How about golf balls? Three of them! I see a golf club set in the corner.” The brunette looked over her shoulder, clapped her hands, and cheered, “That’s brilliant!” My sister cried out in her hoarse voice, begging for mercy, but her pleas only fueled their sick frenzy. They pinned down my struggling sister like a fish flopping on a chopping block, entirely at their mercy. The deranged howling pierced through the phone speakers. My mother couldn’t bear to watch the rest of the footage, turning her face away. But I stared directly into the lens. I wanted to burn every single one of their faces into my memory. A heavy-set girl pulled a frozen ice pop from a mini-fridge. A cruel smirk stretched across her fleshy face. “Let me numb the pain for you, sweetie, so you don’t keep acting like a bitch in heat.” The next second, agonizing pain caused my sister’s neck to snap backward rigidly. Her entire body convulsed. Her eyes rolled back into her head, and she passed out. A blood-soaked golf ball dropped into the frame. The brunette bent over, picked it up, and forcefully pinched my sister’s swollen cheeks. “Weren’t you the kind one? Weren’t you the pretty one? Even Caleb likes you.” “Don’t think I don’t know you’re faking it. Look how much you’re enjoying this. You like it, don’t you?” She tried to violently shove the bloody golf ball into my sister’s mouth, but my sister’s jaw was locked tight in unconsciousness. She ordered the others to pry my sister’s lips apart, then violently smashed the golf ball against my sister’s teeth, like cracking an egg. The mixture of blood and shattered teeth nearly choked my sister to death. Bloody foam sputtered from her throat. The brunette shrieked, “Ew, gross!” and slapped my sister hard across the face. Then, the group burst into laughter again, as if this was the funniest thing in the world. My fists clenched so tightly my knuckles turned white. The violent, bloodthirsty nature I had suppressed for so long surged violently into my brain. “Hazel lost several teeth. Her lower body was severely torn, and they…” Tears streamed down my mother’s face. She choked on her words. “They stapled her together with a heavy-duty stapler. The doctors say she’ll need at least five reconstructive surgeries to barely regain normal function.” “Not only that, they pumped her stomach and found thumbtacks… and… dismembered cat parts.” “Your sister loves cats more than anything!” My mother couldn’t hold it in anymore. She collapsed to the floor, covering her face and weeping bitterly. “What sin did I commit in a past life to deserve this?” “You didn’t call the cops?” I glared at them, the accusation slipping out instantly. My mother cried even harder. “We were going to. But those monsters threatened us. They said they had even more graphic videos. If we called the police, they would release them and ruin Hazel’s life forever.” 3 The combined manipulation of the school and the bullies’ parents was what completely eradicated my last shred of sanity. After weighing their options, my parents had decided to go to the school to demand justice. But the administration played dead. The school leadership claimed that without witnessing it firsthand, the video could be a deepfake. They said they could photoshop ten similar videos if they wanted to. All of this was because the brunette girl’s father sat on the school’s Board of Directors. That scumbag of a man not only refused to admit his daughter was wrong, but he also pointed the finger at my parents. “Maybe you should get your daughter checked to see if her mental retardation has gotten worse. Or maybe check yourselves, since you’re blindly believing a retard’s nonsense. I’m a busy man, unlike you people.” Before leaving, he couldn’t resist a final jab. “Don’t forget, we only let your daughter into this school out of charity for the disabled. You should have some self-awareness and show some gratitude.” Even my sister’s homeroom teacher testified on behalf of the bullies, claiming my sister was two-faced and frequently bullied others. The victim was suddenly crowned the bully, spat on by everyone. Unable to endure it any longer, my dad went to the bullies’ corporate offices to demand justice. Instead, he was dragged into a blind spot with no security cameras and beaten brutally by security guards. He suffered severe lacerations and a fractured right leg, and he is still bedridden at home. The bullies faced absolutely zero consequences, while my family’s world was completely destroyed. I had never heard of such twisted logic in my life. After much deliberation, my mother decided to play me an audio recording. It was from when my dad went to confront that gang of bullies. The bullies were unimaginably arrogant, openly taunting my dad. “If you insist on calling it bullying, well! Then I guess we’re bullies.” “When is she getting out of the hospital? Next time, I’ll give her a free sex-change operation, hahahaha!” The laughter pierced through my mother’s heart. When she looked at me, her eyes were filled with absolute despair. A smile crept onto my lips. “Bullying? Let me tell you… inside juvie, I am the absolute master of bullying.” 4 My name is Harper Hayes. My sister Hazel and I are twins, but we are the absolute extremes of good and evil. When we were little, we saw a diseased, dying puppy on the street. My sister cried, grieving over the puppy’s suffering. I thought about it for a second, grabbed the puppy’s neck, and snapped it in one motion. To me, the fastest way to end suffering was death. But my sister screamed and cried in horror. During deer hunting season at our uncle’s farm, my sister would always pass out crying from the sight of the slaughter. But I was always the main force pinning the deer down. I had more strength than anyone. Watching the blade go in white and come out red, feeling the warm spray of blood hit my face, a deeply addictive sense of satisfaction would always rise in my chest. It wasn’t until we were older that my parents finally noticed my sister’s delayed reactions. They took her for testing, and she was diagnosed with a mild intellectual disability. My parents were heartbroken. They repeatedly instructed me to always look after my sister. I engraved that mission deeply into my heart. But disasters rarely come alone. During the Fourth of July, a bratty neighborhood kid mocked my sister for being a “retard” and intentionally threw lit firecrackers at us. I pinned the kid to the ground, lit a fistful of M80s, and shoved them all directly into his mouth. The blast shattered his un-erupted adult teeth. His parents howled and demanded a million dollars in compensation. My dad made me kneel in the living room to pray to God for forgiveness. He was sick with worry. “Harper, do you know how much you’ve broken his parents’ hearts by doing this?” I thought really hard about how to prevent his parents from being sad. Finally, I came to a conclusion. “Then let’s just kill his parents too. Then they won’t be sad anymore.” My parents’ faces drained of color. They looked at me in sheer terror. They took me in for testing too. The results showed that my body contained the MAOA gene mutation—the “Warrior Gene.” Simply put, I was a born psychopath. I had a genius-level IQ but was extremely violent. I was a natural-born monster, exceptionally skilled at manipulation and disguise. My thought process was completely alien to normal people, and I loved using extreme, permanent methods to solve problems. Just as the doctors predicted, I was a magnet for trouble. When I was nine, a boy in my class mocked me, saying my cold, dead eyes made me look like an anime villain. I tricked him into following me out back, took a brick, and smashed his mouth to an unrecognizable pulp. Then, I ran to the police station crying, saying a boy was chasing me and tripped and smashed his own face. When I was eleven, Uncle Frank refused to pay back a loan he owed my dad for years. At the dinner table, he mocked my dad for being a cheapskate. I waited until he got drunk and stumbled outside to pee. I grabbed a meat cleaver and chopped his hand so deeply it was only hanging on by a flap of skin. Then I ran back to my relatives, crying that Uncle Frank had dirty hands and tried to touch me. Although I became a frequent guest at the juvenile detention center, I never stayed locked up for long. Every time I went in, I just learned new tricks before getting out. That was until I was sixteen, and I finally slipped up. 5 My sister had kindly helped up an old lady who had tripped and fallen on her own. In return, the scamming old hag claimed my sister was the one who pushed her. The old lady lay in a hospital bed, refusing to be discharged, screaming that my sister had paralyzed her. Facing the local news cameras, her wrinkled face was twisted in malicious greed. “I am a God-fearing old woman! I never tell lies!” Her family jumped up and down, fueling the fire. “If you didn’t push her, why did you help her up?” Because of that, I found an opportunity to kidnap the old hag, tied her up, and repeatedly ran her over with an ATV. She got exactly what she asked for. She was permanently paralyzed. This time, I was caught because a security camera caught the act. I couldn’t talk my way out of it. I hate security cameras. Because I was old enough to be tried, I was sentenced to one year and eight months. With good behavior, I only served one year. My “good behavior” was simply because no one inside dared to cross me. I lived very comfortably. The vibration of my sister’s phone pulled me back from my memories. It was a message from those scumbags. “Make sure you show up next semester. We haven’t had enough fun yet.” Fun? We’ll see who’s playing who. With a face devoid of all life, I slowly turned my head and gave my mother a sweet, innocent, somewhat dopey smile. “Do I look like Hazel?” My mother violently flinched. “You do…” I spent the entire winter break doing exactly one thing: compiling data on the bullies. I dug up a class activity video from their social media accounts. In the video, everyone shared their dreams. Watching it now was wildly ironic. The brunette girl stood confidently in front of the camera, speaking eloquently. “My name is Blair Sterling. I want to become a philanthropist, to help people in need so they can have food, warmth, and never suffer again.” Blair lived in an ultra-wealthy gated community. I specifically took a temporary job as a delivery driver in her area to stake out her house. Blair’s dad was a corporate CEO and sat on the school board. Her mom was a high-powered defense attorney. Because her parents were always away on business, they spoiled Blair rotten. She grew into an arrogant, untouchable tyrant, the reigning queen bee of several local high schools. Blair had actually been involved in a scandal before. Just because a girl wore the same dress as her, she and her gang beat and humiliated the teenager in a VIP club room. The girl suffered a mental breakdown and jumped off a building to her death. The incident miraculously vanished from the internet shortly after. The other two girls in her clique: one wanted to be a doctor to save lives. The other wanted to be a teacher to educate the youth. They seemed like Blair’s besties, but they were actually her lackeys and enforcers. They helped her commit atrocities in exchange for scraps of her wealth and influence. The guy was Trent Lawson. He swung his fists in the air, looking like an upright citizen. “My dream is to be a police officer, to punish the bad guys and be an agent of justice.” Trent was a classic trust-fund brat. He used to pursue Blair, but she kept him on the hook like a desperate fish. He did all her dirty work without complaint. For fun, he frequently spread vile rumors about my sister and photoshopped her face onto obituary photos. Is there such a thing as karma in school bullying? 6 Clearly, God doesn’t always have eyes. These bullies usually come from powerful families. They have money and backing. The idea of “karmic justice” is usually just a delusion victims cling to in order to survive. If someone like me didn’t exist, maybe they really would live perfect, happy lives, effortlessly reaching heights that normal people struggle a lifetime for. Too bad for them. Their only dream moving forward is going to be escaping my demonic grasp. The moment I slung my backpack over my shoulder, the eerie smile on my face seamlessly shifted into Hazel’s innocent, dopey expression. Like a wild beast entering the city, society’s red lights meant absolutely nothing to me. School had just started. Everyone was in a good mood. The homeroom teacher, Mrs. Higgins, was at the front directing the students’ morning cleaning duties. Blair and her three lackeys sat by the back door eating sunflower seeds. Their giggling, obnoxious vibe clashed completely with the working students. Blair chewed her bubblegum while pulling a bottle of designer perfume from her bag, spraying it generously into her hair. Trent had a cigarette between his fingers, blowing smoke rings right in front of Mrs. Higgins, who completely ignored him. Gwen Miller, the heavy-set girl, was spitting out sunflower seed shells with a mocking expression. “I wonder if Hazel the Retard is going to show up. If she doesn’t, we’re going to lose a lot of our entertainment.” Blair put down her perfume and rolled her eyes. “Whatever school she transfers to, we’ll just go wait outside their gates and jump her.” Trent flicked his cigarette butt onto the floor, sending a shower of sparks across the linoleum. “Fuck. I didn’t get to have enough fun last time. Next time I’m definitely bringing the live eels. Thick, fat ones.” Right at that moment, I pushed the door open and walked in. Mrs. Higgins, with her hands on her hips, turned around. Seeing it was me, her eyebrows instantly knotted together in fury. “Your parents caused a massive scene and made me lose my entire performance bonus last year! You actually have the nerve to show your face here?” I ignored her, but she wouldn’t shut up. “If your brain is broken, don’t come to school. It’s not like every piece of trash can actually make something of themselves.” “You’re a rat turd ruining the whole pot of soup. Failing students like you should just drop dead.” Blair looked at me with amusement, dragging out her words lazily. “What’s a little performance bonus, Mrs. Higgins? I’ll have my dad promote you to Dean later.” Mrs. Higgins instantly flipped her expression into a spineless, sycophantic grin. “Yes, yes, of course. Please thank the Board Member for me.” I let out a cold sneer. “Oh, so you’re just a lapdog.” The tiny shred of dignity Mrs. Higgins had left shattered into pieces in front of the students. She exploded instantly. “What the hell did you just say?!” She aggressively stomped toward me. Seeing I didn’t back down an inch, she suddenly stopped. “Oh, I forgot. Your broke, desperate dad kneeling at the school gates trying to extort us for money… that looked like a dog begging for scraps!” I cupped my hand around my ear and said breezily, “Listen, classmates. A dog is barking.” Mrs. Higgins lost her mind. “I’ll rip your mouth off!” She lunged at me. The moment her hand reached my face, I grabbed her wrist in an iron grip. I yanked it backward. Snap! The sickening sound of a joint dislocating echoed through the room, accompanied by Mrs. Higgins howling like a slaughtered pig. 7 I cleared my throat and intentionally screamed even louder than her. “Teacher, please don’t pull my ear! It hurts so much!” The noise drew a crowd of students from the hallway. Mrs. Higgins was in agony but couldn’t break free. I executed a swift spin, twisting her dislocated finger into a sickening contortion. “Ahhhh! My finger!” “Ahhhh! My ear!” Mr. Davis, an intern teacher from the classroom next door, rushed in to break up the fight. “Mrs. Higgins, how could you rip a student’s ear like that?” Mrs. Higgins was in so much pain she couldn’t speak. Thick beads of sweat formed on her forehead. I leaned in close to her ear, gloating. “Teacher, you better go get that checked out fast. What if you wait too long and they can’t reattach the finger?” I let go. Mrs. Higgins’s hand trembled violently, her dislocated finger dangling loosely. Terrified to say another word, she let Mr. Davis support her and rushed off toward the hospital. At this point, Blair still hadn’t noticed anything unusual. She just thought the entertainment had returned. She pulled a box cutter from her desk, slid the blade out, and pointed it at me. “Come here.” I slowly walked toward her. Every step made my heart race with excitement, my whole body trembling. But to everyone else in the room, it looked like I was absolutely terrified. Blair grabbed a dirty mop bucket and hocked a loogie directly into the filthy water. Seeing this, her lackeys immediately followed suit. Within seconds, the murky water was coated in a thick layer of yellow phlegm. Blair crossed her arms, casually kicked the bucket toward me, and tilted her head. “Retard. A welcome-back gift. Drink it.” My eyes scanned the room. Every single student in the class was watching the show. Not a single person stepped up to help. Behind Blair sat a boy with dark hair, his head lowered. I heard someone call his name. “Caleb.” That was the guy who got my sister targeted for revenge in the first place. Trent pulled out a cigarette, looking incredibly amused. “Hold on. Light my cigarette first.” I blankly took the lighter from his hand. Everyone watching burst into hysterical laughter. “Look at that dumb look on her face. She really is a retard! Hahahaha!” If the person being humiliated right now was still my sister, she would be in unbearable agony. Too bad for them. I am not my sister. I grabbed the designer perfume off Blair’s desk, pulled off the cap, and poured a mouthful of the alcohol-heavy liquid into my mouth. Under the shocked stares of the crowd, I smiled, flicked the lighter, and blew the mouthful of perfume directly at Blair’s face. The moment the aerosolized perfume hit the flame, it erupted into a roaring fireball, swallowing Blair’s arrogant, domineering face. The stench of burning protein filled the classroom. Blair’s beautiful brunette hair instantly caught fire. She jumped and shrieked in absolute terror, screaming for someone to put it out. Put it out? I love helping my classmates. I grabbed her by her burning hair and slammed her face directly into the desk. Bang! Bang! Bang! Each impact was louder and crisper than the last. The fire went out. She was seeing stars. She clung weakly to the edge of the desk just to keep from collapsing. Let me give her a helping hand. 8 I hooked the handle of the mop bucket with the toe of my shoe, smoothly caught it with my right hand, flipped it upside down, and slammed the entire bucket of phlegm-water directly over Blair’s head. It all happened so incredibly fast and brutally. Forget her little minions not having time to react; even Blair was caught completely off guard. She inhaled sharply in shock, choking on the filthy water and dry-heaving violently. Blair’s delicate skin was clearly going to blister from the burns. She screamed hysterically. “What are you idiots doing?! Beat this dead bitch to death!” The others finally snapped out of it, pulling out their own box cutters. Trent was the first to charge at me. I casually tilted my head, dodging his wild swing. The next second, I was standing behind him, chuckling darkly. “Too slow. Let me show you what fast looks like.” I wrenched his knife-wielding arm backward, slammed it flat onto the desk right beneath a heavy-duty industrial stapler, and slammed my fist down on it. Over and over again. “Ahhhhh! My hand!” Thick metal staples drove deep into the flesh and muscle of his palm, only stopping when the stapler jammed against his bone. Looking at the blood streaming down his hand, I screamed at the top of my lungs, throwing my hands in the air, looking absolutely terrified. “Stop bullying me!” With that, I sprinted frantically toward the classroom door. Those idiots actually thought I was scared and chased after me. I hid behind the heavy wooden door. The moment Riley, the freckle-faced girl, stuck her head out, I slammed the door shut with everything I had. SLAM! A rush of wind followed by the sound of cartilage crunching. Riley’s deformed, twisted face collapsed backward. She squatted on the ground, howling in agony, clutching her head. I delivered a swift soccer kick straight to her face, sending her flying onto her back. Trent pried the door open and limped after me. I turned and sprinted into the girls’ bathroom. Blair screamed excitedly, “She went into the girls’ room! Block the door! She’s dead!” I smiled. They thought they had trapped me. In reality, as I stood in the corner of the tiled bathroom smiling maniacally, it was the predator locking the prey inside the cage. Blair locked the heavy bathroom door from the inside. In pain and seething with hatred, she inspected the forming blisters on her face in the mirror. “It hurts so much. I am going to absolutely end you today.” I backed away slowly as she advanced step by step. She still thought I was my frail, weak sister. She reached out to grab my shirt. But she didn’t realize that the moment I entered her strike zone… she had entered mine. I delivered a devastating, hammer-like cross straight to her face. The entire left side of her pristine face deformed on impact. The fresh blood blisters ruptured, oozing yellow fluid. Only a transparent flap of loose skin was left hanging off her cheek. During New Year’s on the farm, it only took me three punches to knock out a full-grown pig. If I didn’t want to play with her a little longer, she would have been unconscious on the floor already. Blair shrieked in agony, trying to touch the wounds on her face but terrified of the pain. I pulled out my phone, threw an arm around her shoulder, and aimed the camera at her mangled face. “Say cheese.” “Cheese your mom, you psycho!” “Now I’m unhappy.”

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I came home for the holidays with a busted lip. My childhood friend, who always had a problem with me, smirked. “Did you get bit by a dog again?” With a room full of people staring at me, I said, “My boyfriend bit me.” His face instantly darkened. 1 On the absolute last day of the deadline my mom gave me to come home for the holidays, I finally arrived that evening. The second I walked through the door, I saw my childhood friend, Nate, and his parents sitting in our living room. We locked eyes for a second before Nate put on a mocking smirk. “Avery, did you get bit by a dog again?” When I was five, I insisted on kissing a stray dog and got bitten instead. I had to get three rabies shots. Nate was the one who accompanied me to get the shots, even though he complained the whole time. Since then, it had become his favorite running joke to mock me with. Remembering the story, all the adults in the room chuckled. I reached up and touched my lip. A scab had formed, looking incredibly obvious against my pale skin. Over the sound of their laughter, I spoke up. “No, my boyfriend bit me this morning.” The laughter stopped dead. Under the shocked gazes of everyone in the room, Nate was the only one whose face turned pitch black. Because, once upon a time, our parents used to joke that we were destined to get married. 2 In a silence so quiet you could hear a pin drop, Nate’s mom finally spoke. “Avery, you have a boyfriend now?” I replied politely, “Yes, he’s a senior at my college.” Ignoring Nate’s furious glare, I continued, “He didn’t have time to come with me this trip, but I’ll have him come over after the holidays so we can all get dinner together.” Nate finally snapped, roaring, “Eat my ass!” Then he turned and stormed out to the balcony. Nate’s mom shot me a panicked look and hurried out after him. I shrugged, used to his dramatic outbursts, and pushed my suitcase into my bedroom while the remaining adults exchanged awkward glances. I could hear muffled arguing coming from the balcony. “You were the one who said you’d rather die than marry Avery! Now that she has a boyfriend, why are you throwing a fit?!” After his mom yelled at him, there was a long silence before Nate replied, “I just won’t accept it!” I lowered my eyes and smiled to myself. Three years ago, at a joint family dinner, Nate’s mom joked around and called me her “future daughter-in-law.” To everyone’s shock, Nate blew up. He yelled at his mom for taking the joke too far, then turned his anger on me, calling me shameless for following him around like a lost puppy. He told me to stop bothering him. Nate’s dad slapped him across the face right then and there. And Nate blamed me for the entire humiliation. We had a massive falling out. When it came time to pick colleges, I purposely chose a university in California, as far away from him as possible. I thought our relationship would strictly remain casual acquaintances from then on. So what exactly was he doing now? 3 By the time I changed into my loungewear, Nate was already sitting at the dining table. I didn’t know how his mom managed to calm him down. He didn’t look as furious as he had a few minutes ago. During dinner, everyone deliberately avoided what just happened, sticking to safe questions about my classes. Just as the atmosphere started to relax, my phone rang. Glancing at the caller ID, I couldn’t help but smile. “I need to take this. Please, keep eating.” I stepped out into the hallway. It was Connor, my boyfriend. He asked if I was eating. I lowered my voice and asked, “Why did you bite my lip so hard it bled? I didn’t even notice until I got here.” Connor whined on the other end for a solid minute before finally admitting, “I did it on purpose.” Just as I was about to reply, there was a loud BANG from the dining room. I turned my head. Nate was standing there, his face flushed red with impatience. “Are you going to eat or not? If you don’t eat, you’re doing the dishes.” Connor heard him through the phone. “Are you still eating? Should I order you some DoorDash?” Hearing Connor’s voice, Nate’s face turned iron-gray. “Who is that?” I looked up at him, flashed a sweet smile, and said slowly, “My boyfriend.” 4 Connor went silent on the phone for a moment before saying, “Call me tonight. I’ll wait for you~” The line went dead. In the entryway, only silence remained between Nate and me. Nate stared at my bruised lip for a long time before suddenly asking, “How long have you two been dating? You’re already… kissing?” I locked my screen and slid the phone into my pocket. “We’ve been together for almost a year.” I watched his face cycle from black to red. “Why haven’t I ever seen you mention him?” I thought about it. Nate was probably talking about my Instagram. After our falling out, I never blocked or deleted him, but we basically never texted. I rarely posted on social media anyway, never changed my profile picture or bio, and had never posted anything related to Connor. “I forgot to post about it,” I said, putting my hands in my pockets. Nate let out a light scoff. “Looks like you don’t like him that much.” He sounded like he was breathing a sigh of relief. I looked at him, confused. “Why would you say that?” “If you actually liked him, you wouldn’t keep him a complete secret.” I gently clenched my fists. “You’re wrong. I really love him.” I looked up, staring directly into Nate’s eyes, wanting him to know I wasn’t lying. Nate looked down at me. Seeing that I was entirely serious, a flash of anxiety crossed his eyes. I didn’t want to deal with him anymore and turned to leave. As I brushed past him, he asked softly, “How did you move on so fast?” 5 When Nate publicly humiliated me in front of our parents that day, I was truly devastated. When we were kids, we were inseparable best friends. He had even sent me mixed signals before. During high school, reading romance novels was a massive trend among the girls. The classic trope was always the childhood friends turning into lovers. Everyone who knew Nate and me teased us about it, because we fit the trope perfectly. And Nate never expressed any annoyance. He still walked me home from school, bought me hand warmers in the winter, and refilled my water bottle. I genuinely thought he liked me too. But then he delivered that fatal blow right in front of our parents. What was even more heartbreaking was what my desk-mate told me the very next day: “Did you hear Nate and Brooke got together?” Brooke was the undisputed most popular girl in our grade. She had openly crushed on Nate for three years, but he had never reciprocated. At the graduation party after finals, Brooke confessed to Nate again in front of all our teachers. Everyone cheered them on, even the teachers were smiling, but Nate didn’t say yes then. Yet, someone just told me that the day after Nate humiliated me, they started dating. I thought about it and replied, “I know now. I have some stuff to do, talk to you later.” I tried to distract myself by reading a book, but I couldn’t resist opening Instagram. The first thing on my feed was Brooke’s post announcing their relationship. In the photo, she and Nate were leaning their heads together, looking incredibly intimate. I didn’t even have the courage to click on the picture to enlarge it. A few close friends messaged me asking what was going on. At that moment, I was glad I was naturally low-key on social media. Otherwise, as Nate’s “rumored girlfriend” for all those years, I would have had to make some sort of public statement. But a few minutes later, I put my phone down. A single tear dropped onto the open page of the book in front of me. 6 I didn’t have much time to grieve. I had originally promised Nate we would go to the same college on the East Coast, but I was breaking that promise. When applying, I chose a massive university out in California. That summer, encouraged by my parents, I got my driver’s license, learned how to swim, and traveled to a few different states. When your schedule is packed, you realize you don’t actually have time to be sad. My mom said Nate’s dad brought Nate over to our house a few times, but they never caught me. I was either traveling or taking a class. It wasn’t until right before the fall semester, while I was packing my bags with my mom, that I saw Nate again. Nate’s dad looked at me and said, “You got a tan.” I smiled and nodded, saying I had traveled a lot. Nate stood to the side, saying nothing, just glancing at me every now and then. Maybe he was in a bad mood. He didn’t speak the entire time, only giving me a deep, lingering look right before they left. I kept my head down and didn’t look at him. Before going to bed, I opened Instagram and saw an update from Brooke. She posted: “The new girl can never beat the childhood friend. What you can’t have becomes your white rose.” A classmate commented below: “What happened?” Brooke replied: “We broke up.” Seeing that, I finally understood why Nate had looked so miserable earlier that day. They had broken up. But Brooke’s comment—”The new girl can never beat the childhood friend”—confused me. I didn’t recall Nate having any other childhood friends besides me. If this was the past, I would have definitely gone to ask Nate about it. But during that summer, I had made peace with it. From now on, Nate and I would be friends, at best. I didn’t care anymore. On the day I left for college, right before boarding my flight, I turned my phone off early, missing Nate’s text: “Why did you choose to go to California?” 7 College life was incredibly busy. I picked up a minor and my weekends were completely packed. When Nate suddenly messaged me out of the blue, asking me to click a referral link for some sketchy shopping app, I realized how long it had been since I had even thought about him. I replied: “Sorry, I don’t have that app downloaded.” The “typing…” bubble showed up for a long time on his end before he finally sent: “It’s fine.” I had no desire to make small talk with him, so I put my phone down and went back to writing my essay. It wasn’t until the library was closing that I saw he had sent another message: “When does your summer break start?” It was sent five hours ago. I didn’t reply. And now, Nate was standing in front of me, asking how I could move on so fast. A ridiculous thought sprouted in my head, but I immediately squashed it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said. Nate didn’t say anything else, and I walked straight back to my room. 8 When I got back to campus, Connor came to the station to pick me up. The moment he saw me, he grabbed my suitcase. “You must be exhausted! I’ll take you to get something good to eat.” While walking, Connor looked a little uneasy. I asked him what was wrong. He mumbled for a bit before saying, “About biting your lip that day… I’m really sorry, I just…” He looked down. “I just felt so insecure.” Connor and I had naturally talked about our past relationships once. I didn’t hide anything and told him about my crush on Nate. At the time, Connor acted like it didn’t bother him, but I caught the panic in his eyes. Just like now—looking wronged and panicked. He was worried I might still have feelings for Nate. So I grabbed his hand. “It’s fine. Treat me to ramen and we’ll call it even.” 9 How Connor and I met was actually pretty magical. The library had closed early that afternoon for a holiday. While I was carrying my books back to my dorm, a small puppy suddenly darted out from the bushes. I made eye contact with it for a few seconds before it ran over and rubbed against my leg. I crouched down and pet its head. And then it just stuck to me. The puppy had a collar, so it clearly wasn’t a stray. With no other choice, I sat there, waiting for its owner to find it. After a few minutes, the puppy started whining and burrowed into my arms. I held it, gently rubbing its belly, and it fell asleep almost instantly. A few minutes later, a guy came running over, looking frantic. He looked at me and the puppy in my arms, put his hands together in apology, and said it was his dog. To show his gratitude, he asked for my number. That guy was Connor. 10 Connor was two years older than me, currently in his first year of grad school. When we first met, he would always use “thanking me for finding his dog” as an excuse to bring me lunch at the library or help me organize my study notes for finals. He quietly and seamlessly infiltrated my life. Even my friends couldn’t stop praising him. But I wasn’t the type to be swayed just because the people around me approved. Nor did I treat Connor differently just because he was handsome. I had already learned my lesson with a pretty face when it came to Nate. What made my heart flutter was a tiny incident. Connor asked me to go to an amusement park. Honestly, this was the first time I had ever gone out alone with a guy. I used to ask Nate to go, but he would always verbally agree and then never actually follow through. When Connor brought me to the park that day, I was in a bit of a daze. In the past, I never would have imagined my first time at an amusement park would be with someone else. Seeing me space out, Connor waved his hand in front of my face. I snapped out of it and smiled at him, but accidentally bumped into a little girl wearing a princess dress. Her ice cream cone fell to the ground. Looking at the little girl’s face, which was about to burst into tears, I panicked. Connor reacted faster than I did. He immediately crouched down to comfort her. “Oh no, where is this little princess from? Princesses don’t cry so easily.” He wiped away a tear that was about to fall with a tissue. “The big sister didn’t bump into you on purpose. Big brother will buy you a brand-new ice cream to make up for it, okay?” Connor looked up and gave me a quick wink. I got the hint, crouched down, and started apologizing. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart! Sister didn’t mean it.” Connor used the distraction to run and buy the exact same ice cream. When he handed it to the little girl, her face lit up. He sweet-talked her a bit more, and she happily walked away. I instinctively froze in place, waiting for Connor to scold me for being clumsy. Because in the past, whenever something like this happened, Nate would always scold me, looking completely annoyed. Nate never seemed to have any patience for me. But Connor just smiled and patted my head. “The little princess is gone. Now, my lady, if we don’t hurry, we’re going to miss the fireworks.” He gently grabbed my wrist and pulled me forward. He talked the whole way, mentioning he had already checked TikTok to find the best spot to watch the fireworks and take pictures. I stared at him and blurted out, “Why aren’t you mad at me?” Connor stopped and looked at me, seemingly confused as to why I would even ask that. A second later, he flashed a bright smile. “Cinderella lost her glass slipper because she was nervous. It’s actually really cute when Miss Avery is a little clumsy. On campus, you’re always this serious, perfect academic. I never get to see this side of you.” My nose suddenly stung. So, one day, when Connor came to the library to study with me, even though he was sitting right across the table, he slid a piece of paper over to me. It read: “Will you be my girlfriend?” Drawn at the bottom was a crying little puppy. I burst out laughing. I realized then that I had completely stepped out of the shadow Nate had cast over me. The man sitting across from me was emotionally stable and gave me so much security that I could throw myself wholeheartedly into a healthy relationship. So, I wrote “yes” on the paper. 11 Connor was incredibly thoughtful whenever he planned holiday surprises or gifts. He would always check my schedule in advance to make sure his plans wouldn’t stress me out. He would randomly pull a flower out of his coat on the way back from a date, or plan fully-researched weekend getaways. During a long weekend, he took me to a coastal city nearby. We went to the beach I had been dying to visit, and he took a perfect polaroid of us. He placed that polaroid in the clear case on the back of his phone. He took care of everything; there wasn’t a single detail he missed. Our three-day trip was perfect. If it weren’t for the uninvited guest waiting for us when we got back, the joy would have lasted much longer. We were walking hand-in-hand back to my dorm when my roommate called. “Avery, your brother is on campus. The RA wouldn’t let him into the building, so he’s waiting for you downstairs.” I was confused. “What brother?” “I don’t know, he’s tall and handsome. A bunch of girls already asked him for his number.” As we approached my dorm. I spotted Nate in the crowd instantly. He looked over, about to call out to me, when his eyes locked onto our intertwined hands. Nate’s eyes instantly turned red.

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I realized I could hear people’s darkest thoughts the moment I woke up from a dead faint. I’d been working three jobs back-to-back, surviving on caffeine and the desperate need to save my family. I thought my parents and my sister were dying. I thought the crushing weight of their medical bills was my cross to bear. Then I heard my mother, who had been coughing up blood just an hour ago, complaining in her head about how “low-quality” the theatrical blood tasted. She was already mentally spending my next paycheck on a vintage Chanel bag. I heard my father, the man with the “shattered leg,” grumbling that his muscles were cramping from pretending to be a cripple. He was dreaming of the high-end massage parlor he’d visit once I “cleared the family debt.” Even my “frail” younger sister was mentally drafting a breakup text to her “loser” boyfriend, eager to toss him aside so she could hunt for a richer mark. I watched them perform. I listened to their rehearsed whimpers. I didn’t say a word. I simply reached out and took back the envelope of “surgery money” I’d laid on the table. Later, I went to see my sister’s boyfriend to deliver her message. That’s when I heard his voice. He knew she was dumping him. But his inner monologue wasn’t full of heartbreak—it was full of cold, calculating amusement. He was the sole heir to a tech empire, playing a game of “poverty tourism” to test her love. He was waiting for the moment we’d all regret underestimating him. A sharp, jagged idea took root in my mind. I didn’t deliver the breakup speech. Instead, I feigned a dizzy spell, let my knees buckle, and collapsed straight into his arms. 1 The world spun with practiced precision. I calculated the angle perfectly, letting my body go limp as I fell toward Gideon. “Oh…” I let out a soft, breathless gasp, my forehead landing right in the crook of his neck. Instantly, I was wrapped in a scent that didn’t belong in a dive apartment—it wasn’t the smell of cheap soap or hospital antiseptic. It was expensive cedarwood and cold rain. I smirked inwardly, but kept my face a mask of fragile exhaustion. My hands gripped his shoulders for support, shifting just enough to ensure I couldn’t “quite” find my footing. As I moved, I heard a low, rough groan vibrate in his chest. Wait. Something was wrong. He was supposed to be… paralyzed from the waist down, wasn’t he? A man in a wheelchair shouldn’t have a reaction that visceral, that present. Heat crawled up my neck, but before I could pull away, a large, searing palm clamped onto my waist. The grip was terrifyingly strong—nothing like the weak hold of a chronic patient. I looked up, startled, and collided with a pair of dark, bottomless eyes. The gentle concern he usually wore was gone, replaced by a turbulent, predatory current. On the surface, he looked devastated by the news of the “breakup.” But his mind was a different story: [Tsk. This ‘damsel in distress’ routine is almost painful to watch.] [Though… her waist is surprisingly small.] I didn’t have time to process his hypocrisy. In the next heartbeat, Gideon’s mouth was on mine. The night that followed was a blur of reckless, feverish mistakes. When I finally drifted back to consciousness, my body felt like it had been pulverized. Sunlight stabbed through the gaps in the curtains. I bolted upright, realizing the space beside me was cold. The tangled sheets and the mess on the sofa were the only evidence of last night’s madness. The culprit was sitting across the room, perfectly composed in his wheelchair. He was watching me with an unreadable expression. He had slipped back into his “fragile” persona, making the dominant, fierce man from the night before feel like a fever dream. “I’m sorry,” he said first. His voice was gravelly, thick with rehearsed guilt. “I heard that Judy wanted to leave me, and I… I lost control. I couldn’t handle the rejection.” He paused, looking pained. “I did something unforgivable to you. You can hate me, hit me—I’ll accept whatever you decide.” He looked like a man seeking penance. His mind, however, was a cold machinery: [Ugh, what a hassle. It was one night; why does she look like she’s about to burst into tears? Still… she tasted better than I expected.] A surge of white-hot fury crested in my chest. They were all the same. My sister faked illness for bags; this man faked poverty to play God with people’s emotions. They deserved each other. But I forced my features into a mask of devastation. I pulled the duvet up to my chin, my eyes brimming with tears as my voice trembled. “You… how could we do this? How can I ever look my sister in the eye again?” Gideon blinked, seemingly taken aback by my tears. He looked ashamed. In his head, he sneered: [She really is the dumbest of the lot, isn’t she?] [Can’t see her family is playing her for a fool, and now she’s playing the martyr. Pathetic. We spent hours together last night—how has she not realized my legs work perfectly fine?] I clenched my jaw under the covers. Dumb? Maybe I was, once. I’d nearly worked myself into an early grave to buy medicine that was never needed. If I hadn’t developed this “glitch” in my hearing, I’d still be their slave. But now? Now I was going to play the game. If my sister didn’t want this “poor, broken man,” I’d take him. I’d take him and everything he was hiding. I was going to make sure they all learned exactly what happens when you push a “saint” too far. 2 Over the next few days, life settled into a suffocating rhythm. I still got up before dawn. I still brewed herbal teas and made breakfast. But I quietly quit the three soul-crushing side hustles that had been killing me. My parents and Judy seemed to sense my “idleness.” Their performances grew more dramatic to compensate. One evening, while I was peeling an apple for my father, he let out a heavy, theatrical sigh. “I heard from a friend today,” he started, staring wistfully out the window. “There’s a clinic in Switzerland. They’ve had incredible success with cases like ours.” My mother’s eyes lit up on cue before she slumped back, feigning weakness. “Switzerland? George, we can barely afford the electricity bill. Let’s not burden the girl.” “She’s right, Dad,” Judy added, her voice a fragile whisper. “The care is better there, but the cost… it’s impossible.” I watched this perfectly choreographed play, feeling a cold stone where my heart used to be. The old Caitlin would have been scouring the internet for loans within the hour. They knew exactly which buttons to press. I set the knife down and pinched my own arm hard, forcing the blood to rush to my face. I let my voice shake with “determined” devotion. “Dad, Mom… what are you saying?” I stood up, looking at each of them with wide, shimmering eyes. “As long as there’s a chance, I’m not giving up! Money can be replaced. You can’t.” “But honey… the cost…” my mother whimpered. I gritted my teeth, looking like a woman ready to jump off a cliff for her family. “Don’t worry! If I have to sell my soul, or take out a thousand loans, I’ll get you to that clinic! If it means you’ll get better, I’ll do anything!” The room went silent. And then, I heard it. The synchronized, deafening thrum of three hearts leaping with greedy joy. [Got her! The little idiot actually fell for it!] [Loans? Selling her soul? Haha, she’s so easy to manipulate!] [Finally! Europe! Shopping in Zurich, here I come!] Their faces, however, were masks of heartbreaking gratitude. My mother reached out to squeeze my hand. “Oh, sweetheart, we don’t deserve you.” “I’m a failure as a father,” my dad sobbed, wiping dry eyes. “It’s okay,” I whispered, pulling my hand back gently. “I’ll go look into the costs. Just rest.” The moment the door clicked shut behind me, my smile vanished. Sell my soul? No. If you want money so badly, I’ll “help” you get it. Over the next week, under the guise of “processing international medical visas,” I gathered their ID cards, their passports, and even the forged medical records they’d used to trick me. I didn’t go to a bank. I went to the darkest corners of the city—to the predatory, high-interest “private lenders” who don’t ask questions as long as there’s collateral. An hour later, a massive sum of money—with an interest rate designed to swallow a person whole—was deposited into three brand-new accounts I’d opened in their names. I stepped out into the blinding sunlight and dialed my sister. “Judy?” My voice was sweet enough to cause cavities. “Tell Mom and Dad the good news. I got the money. All of it. You’re going to Switzerland.” I listened to their muffled cheers on the other end, my lips curling into a jagged smile. I hope you’re just as happy when you come back and find the mountain of debt waiting for you. 3 As I left the lender’s office, I spotted a familiar figure at an outdoor cafe across the street. Gideon. He was sipping an espresso, looking entirely too relaxed. I wiped the cold calculation from my face and replaced it with frantic worry. I hurried over to him. “Gideon? Where’s your wheelchair? It’s dangerous for you to be out here alone!” He froze, a flicker of genuine surprise crossing his eyes before he smoothed it over. [This woman… is she actually serious? Does she still think I’m a cripple?] I pretended not to notice his confusion. He set his cup down, his voice dropping into that husky, vulnerable register. “The chair is being serviced. I just needed some air. I felt… trapped.” His eyes flickered to the thick envelope in my hand. “What are you doing in this neighborhood?” I looked away, biting my lip. He reached for the envelope, and I let him “accidentally” see the loan documents. “I… I was trying to secure some funds,” I whispered, my eyes turning red. “But please, don’t tell Judy. I don’t want her to worry about how I’m paying for her treatment.” Gideon stared at me like I was a specimen in a jar. [Is she a saint or just a moron? She’s taking out shark loans for those three parasites?] We sat in a heavy silence for a moment. Then, I stood up and offered my hand. “It’s going to rain. Let me get you home.” Gideon hesitated. I looked at him with pure, unadulterated “kindness.” “I forgot—your legs. I’ll call an Uber, but let me carry you to the curb so you don’t have to struggle.” [Carry me? Has she lost her mind?] Despite his internal mocking, something in my persistence made him yield. He let me hoist his arm over my shoulder. He was heavy—solid muscle—and I buckled slightly, gritting my teeth as I maneuvered him toward a taxi. By the time we reached his cramped “studio apartment,” the sky had broken. A torrential downpour washed over us. I fumbled with the door, and as we crossed the threshold, I purposely tripped, sending both of us sprawling onto the floor. “I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” I ignored my own scraped knees and scrambled to my feet, kneeling beside him. I cupped his face with trembling hands, my tears mixing with the rain dripping from my hair. Gideon lay there, soaked through, looking weary and defeated. “It’s fine. I’m just… a burden.” I held his face tighter, my eyes burning with a feigned intensity. “Don’t you ever say that. You are not a burden. You’re going to get better. I’ll make sure of it.” He opened his eyes wide. The mockery was gone, replaced by a dark, complex confusion. [She…] Looking at his lips, so close to mine, I leaned down in the middle of the storm and kissed him. I woke up the next morning to an empty bed. Voices drifted from the balcony. Gideon was on the phone, his tone low and authoritative. “I know. I’ll be back within the week. Prepare the board.” I stayed still, heart hammering, as he ended the call and walked back into the room. He stopped by the bed, his gaze burning into me. His thoughts were crystal clear: [My father is breathing down my neck to take over the company. This ‘undercover’ game is over. Judy was a bore, but this sister… she’s fascinating in her stupidity. Maybe I’ll fake a relapse, see how far her ‘martyr’ complex actually goes.] I kept my eyes shut, my mind racing. The next morning, I showed up at his door with a thermal flask and a bright smile. “Judy and my parents left for Switzerland this morning. They think they found a cure. I’m going to take care of you while she’s gone.” Gideon looked stunned, then masked it with “gratitude.” For the next few days, I was the perfect housewife. I cleaned his dingy apartment, cooked for him, and organized his life. Then, during dinner, Gideon suddenly clutched his nose. Blood dripped onto his plate. “It’s nothing,” he muttered. “Just a bit of stress.” I insisted on taking him to the hospital. The results came back an hour later. Cancer. Stage four. Gideon played the part of the broken man perfectly. He turned his face away, his voice cold. “Go away. Don’t come back. You shouldn’t waste your life on a dead man.” I didn’t argue. I didn’t cry. I simply turned and walked out without a second glance. Behind the closed door, I heard his mental chuckle: [I thought she’d make a scene. At least she knows when to quit.] I paused in the hallway, a slow, cold smile spreading across my face. You think you’re the only one playing a game, Gideon? My move hasn’t even started yet. Two days later, I went to a shady clinic and sold 400ml of my rare blood type. Then, I walked to Gideon’s door, waited for the exact moment I felt the lightheadedness peak, and collapsed. 4 The smell of hospital grade disinfectant greeted me as I drifted back. A doctor’s voice was muffled in the distance: “She’s pregnant. Between the malnutrition and the blood loss, she’s lucky she didn’t lose the baby. She needs absolute rest.” I felt a heavy, burning gaze on me. I waited until the doctor left before opening my eyes. Gideon was sitting by the bed, his expression a chaotic mess of guilt and shock. “How are you feeling?” I didn’t answer. I reached into my pocket with a trembling hand and pulled out a debit card. “This is everything I’ve saved,” I whispered, my voice cracked. “Take it for your treatment. Don’t worry about me. I… I’m going to terminate the pregnancy. I can’t bring a child into this.” Gideon’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head. “Where did you get this much money? And why would you get rid of the baby?” I let out a hollow, jagged laugh. “Our ‘mistake’ was never supposed to happen. I want this baby more than anything, Gideon, but I’m broke and you’re dying. I won’t bring a child into the world just to watch them suffer like I have.” Gideon stared at his phone. He’d clearly been doing some digging. “You fainted because you sold your blood? You sold your blood to give me this card?” I didn’t say a word. I just forced the card into his hand. He gripped it, his face twisting in a way I’d never seen. He sat in silence for a long time before handing the card back. “I’m going to marry you,” he said. “Keep the baby. I’ll provide for both of you.” “But your illness—” “The hospital made a mistake,” he said quickly, his voice firm. “It’s not cancer. I’m going to be fine.” I pretended to be overwhelmed by the “miracle,” while my heart hammered with triumph. Gideon pulled out his phone and, right then and there, transferred five million dollars into my account. The zeros on the screen were dazzling. “I have money, Caitlin. You never have to worry again.” I forced a look of pure, wide-eyed shock, while internally I was screaming. Five million. Goodbye, poverty. Hello, luxury. I was moved to a VIP suite. I ate food I couldn’t pronounce. Two months later, we had a small, private wedding. But as I smoothed down my silk gown, ready to walk into the reception hall, a familiar screech echoed from the entrance. “Caitlin! You backstabbing bitch! You took out loans in our names!” It was my mother. I turned to see my parents and Judy standing there, looking bedraggled and furious. Judy’s eyes landed on my designer dress and the diamond-encrusted venue. She grabbed my mother’s arm, her voice dripping with sudden, venomous greed. “So, you’re getting married to a rich guy, huh, Sis?” Judy smirked. “How much is the dowry? Because whatever it is, it’s going toward our debt. Consider it his way of proving he’s worthy of our family.” I saw Gideon walking toward us, his tall, imposing figure casting a long shadow. I smiled. “Sure. Your brother-in-law is right there. Why don’t you ask him for the money yourselves?”

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When I slid the divorce papers across the kitchen island toward Simon, my voice sounded like it belonged to someone else—someone carved entirely out of ice. “You walk away with nothing,” I said. “That is your only option.” Three days ago, I was pulling an all-nighter in the lab, furiously formatting my dissertation, when my phone screen lit up. It was an Instagram post from the newest PhD student in our research group, Paige. She had uploaded a screenshot of an acceptance email from Nature Chemistry, listing her as the first author. In the second photo, she was smiling brightly in the lab, Simon’s hand resting intimately on her shoulder. Everyone in the department knew that the novel catalyst project was mine. I had bled for it since my first year of grad school. It was my lifeline. To get those stability metrics, I had spent over three hundred sleepless nights in the cleanroom. I had even hidden my wedding ring on a gold chain under my scrubs, wearing latex gloves to conceal the phantom indent on my finger. But when I confronted Simon, he just brushed it off. “Paige helped you polish the abstract,” he said, not even looking up from his laptop. “That counts as a co-contribution.” Later that afternoon, standing by the fire doors in the stairwell, I heard Paige’s voice echoing from the floor below. She was whining, laying on the baby voice thick. “You’re so biased, Dr. Adler. I just told you I was stressed about my prelims, and you practically handed me Carlin’s paper.” Simon’s low chuckle floated up the stairs. It sounded like a velvet-wrapped ice pick. “She’s fully funded on that NSF grant,” he murmured. “Losing one first-author credit isn’t going to kill her.” Three years of a secret marriage, outweighed by a few manufactured tears. The research I had poured my soul into was nothing more than a poker chip to him, traded away to buy a younger woman’s affection. Before I even had the chance to move the tassel on my graduation cap, my marriage and my academic future had shattered into a million jagged pieces. Now, looking at him across the granite countertop, I only wanted one thing. I wanted this man, along with his twisted sense of “fairness,” completely eradicated from my life. … The day Paige joined our lab, Simon personally gave her the grand tour. He finally stopped at my bench. “This is Carlin, a senior PhD candidate and the unofficial manager of the lab,” Simon said. His tone was perfectly sterile. Professional. “If you need anything, ask her.” I pulled down my safety goggles and offered her a warm smile. Paige didn’t look like a typical stressed-out grad student. She was wearing a tweed designer jacket, her nails were perfectly manicured, and there were faint, sophisticated laugh lines at the corners of her eyes. “Hi, Carlin. It’s so nice to meet you. I’ll be counting on your guidance.” When she spoke, Simon’s gaze lingered on her. There was a softness in his eyes, a microscopic shift in his posture that made my stomach drop. I told myself I was being paranoid. But that night, for the first time in our marriage, Simon claimed he had to “finish a grant proposal” and slept in the guest room. The unease settled in my chest, a quiet, persistent hum. The next day, I was under the tissue culture hood, splitting cells. My lab mate, Ben, rolled his stool over, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Hey. Do you know the actual story with the new girl?” I was still distracted by the phantom chill of the empty bed beside me. “What story?” “She did her undergrad in this lab a few years ago. Went out into the corporate world, and now she’s suddenly back for her PhD.” Ben leaned in closer. “I heard… I heard she’s the reason Dr. Adler got divorced the first time. Apparently, his ex-wife found their texts. Total scandal.” My hand twitched. The tip of my micropipette plunged straight into the biohazard waste beaker. “Don’t spread rumors like that,” I said. My throat felt like sandpaper. “I’m just telling you what the postdocs say,” Ben muttered, shrinking back a little. “Just watch your back, Carlin. He treats her differently.” I murmured an acknowledgment and returned to my cells, but it felt like someone had poured liquid nitrogen down my spine. Texts? An affair? When Simon and I married three years ago, he told me his first marriage fell apart because his wife wanted to move to Europe and they simply grew apart. Had he been lying to me this whole time? But Simon had always been so good to me. When I was a senior undergrad, he was the brilliant young assistant professor who patiently taught me how to design experiments and write fellowship applications. I grew up with no money, so he created a paid lab manager position just for me, adding an extra twelve hundred dollars a month to my meager stipend. The year we got married, he had just been granted tenure. I was starting my PhD. To avoid Title IX complications and department gossip, he insisted we keep our marriage a secret. The lab manager stipend quietly transitioned into him transferring two thousand dollars a month into my checking account. “A husband allowance,” he had joked, kissing the top of my head. I refused to believe he could betray me. It was just academic gossip. I forced myself to forget it and bury myself in my work. But things started happening. During Paige’s first month, my personal micropipette went missing. It was the one I’d used for three years, marked with a tiny dot of crimson nail polish. I tore the lab apart looking for it. I finally found it sitting squarely on Paige’s bench. “Oh, this?” She looked up, her eyes wide and innocent. “I found it lying around and assumed it was a spare. You don’t mind, do you?” I took the pipette back without a word. In her second month, my cell cultures got contaminated. I came in at 6:00 AM to get a head start. The lab was silent, except for the low hum of the incubators. Paige was standing right in front of my incubator shelf, holding one of my culture flasks. “What are you doing?” I asked, my voice sharp in the quiet room. She turned around. Her expression didn’t even flicker. “Just checking out the morphology of your cells. Learning the ropes. Is that a problem?” I stepped past her and pulled out my trays. Two months of grueling, early-morning work. Every single flask was cloudy, floating with white fungal fuzz. Dead. Paige stood beside me and let out a soft, theatrical sigh. “Oh, no. What a shame. Try not to let it get to you, Carlin. This kind of stuff happens all the time in bio labs. You can just redo it.” She said you can just redo it with the breezy cadence of someone commenting on the weather. I stared at her for a long time, searching her face for a crack, a sliver of guilt. There was nothing. She smiled back at me, utterly bulletproof. That night in our apartment, I couldn’t hold back the tears as I told Simon what happened. He was eating takeout at the dining table. He paused, setting his fork down, and looked at me with mild disapproval. “Carlin, you’re the senior student here. You need to be a little more forgiving. She’s just trying to learn. I highly doubt she did it on purpose.” I stared at him, stunned. “Forgiving? She contaminated two entire months of work! You know how hard I worked on those lines!” Simon frowned. “Do you have proof she contaminated them?” “The lab camera is broken.” “Then you don’t have proof. And without proof, it’s just a baseless accusation.” I swallowed the hard lump in my throat. “Simon. You don’t believe me?” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s not about not believing you. It’s about maintaining a professional environment. Paige was my student years ago. I know her character. She wouldn’t do something malicious.” I put my hands flat on the table. “Simon. I am your wife.” He fell silent for a few seconds. When he looked at me, his eyes held the weary patience of a man dealing with a petulant child. “Exactly. Because we’re married, I need you to be the bigger person here. Don’t turn the lab into a toxic environment over a minor setback.” A minor setback. My cells dying was a minor setback. I wondered, then, what constituted a major one. In Paige’s third month, Simon took a sub-project that was entirely mine and handed half of it to her. He called me into his corner office. His tone was gentle, almost pleading. “Carlin, you’ve got so much on your plate right now. Paige is struggling to find her footing. If you let her take the lead on the secondary assays, it’ll take some pressure off you. I’ll make it up to you tonight, I promise.” It felt wrong, like a stone settling in my gut, but I didn’t fight him. I nodded. I convinced myself it was just a PI managing his lab, just a husband looking out for his stressed wife. Six months later, during our weekly lab meeting, Paige stood up to present her progress. Every single data point on her slides was mine. I sat there, frozen in my plastic chair. Those were my preliminary trials. I had spent an entire semester optimizing those concentration gradients, coming in at midnight to take time-points. I hadn’t even drafted the manuscript yet, and here they were, perfectly formatted in her PowerPoint. “These metrics…” I started, leaning forward urgently. “These metrics build beautifully on the preliminary data Carlin gathered,” Simon interrupted smoothly, his voice projecting across the conference room. He didn’t even look at me. “Paige took that foundation and really ran with it. Excellent work, Paige. I think we’re looking at a solid publication here.” The room went dead silent. I could feel Ben and the other postdocs staring at me with deep, uncomfortable pity. The light in my eyes just… died. At the front of the room, Paige looked down at the podium. But I saw the corner of her mouth curve up. It’s mine now, that smile said. When we got home that night, I cornered him in the living room. “Simon, that data was mine. It’s unpublished. How could she just present it as her own?” I kept my voice low, terrified the neighbors would hear the tremor in it. He leaned back against the sofa cushions, looking exhausted and annoyed. “Carlin, part of being a senior PhD is mentoring the juniors. Besides, data generated in the lab belongs to the lab. What does it matter who writes it up? You have three other projects. You don’t need this one.” “But—” “Enough. Stop being so territorial.” He stood up and reached out to pull me into a hug. I flinched, stepping out of his reach. His arms dropped. “Look,” he said, his voice hardening slightly. “When you graduate, you’re going to leave all your protocols behind for the younger students anyway. We’re a family, Carlin. My success is your success. If Paige publishes a high-impact paper, it makes my tenure package look incredible. Aren’t you happy for me?” A family. I stood in the dim light of our living room, looking at the man I had slept next to for over a thousand nights. He looked like a stranger. That was the moment I finally understood. Only Paige’s problems were major problems. As I was wrapping up my dissertation, Simon called me into his office. “How is the novel catalyst paper looking?” he asked. My heart did a nervous little stutter. “Good. I’m formatting it for submission next week.” He nodded. Tapped his pen against his desk. The silence stretched until the air felt thin. “Listen,” he finally said. “Paige mentioned she did quite a bit of troubleshooting on that protocol. Go ahead and add her as second author.” I felt a bizarre, out-of-body sense of inevitability. Of course. I swallowed the bile rising in my throat. “What exactly did she do? Name one thing she contributed to this project.” “She maintained your cell lines when you were writing, didn’t she? She helped you clean up the datasets?” “Maintained my cells? You mean the ones she deliberately contaminated—” “Stop it,” he snapped, his patience evaporating. “Adding her as second author costs you absolutely nothing. She’s new, she needs to build her CV, and it’s your job to help her.” I stared right into his eyes. He broke eye contact first, looking away toward the window. That evening, I stood at the stove, frying vegetables. The oil sizzled loudly in the pan, mirroring the chaotic static in my brain. Simon was in his home office, supposedly reviewing manuscripts. Something was fundamentally wrong. I couldn’t articulate the exact shape of it, but the shadow it cast over my life was suffocating. Over dinner, I set my fork down. “Simon. Do you have feelings for Paige?” His chopsticks paused in mid-air. A microscopic tightening of his jaw. “What is that supposed to mean?” “It means… you treat her differently. You protect her.” He set his bowl down and let out a long, theatrical sigh. “Are you seriously jealous right now, Carlin?” I let out a harsh, incredulous laugh. “Shouldn’t I be? I’m your wife. She is your student. Do I really need to list out exactly how blatantly you favor her?” “She was my student years ago! I’m just looking out for her!” His voice rose, bouncing off the kitchen tiles. “I did the exact same thing for you when you joined the lab! What exactly are you accusing me of?” But he was omitting the most crucial detail. When he was “looking out for me,” we were already sleeping together. I looked down at my plate, hiding the bitter sneer forming on my lips. “I’m not accusing you of anything.” “Then drop it.” He picked up his bowl, his face a mask of cold fury, and went back to his meal. Watching his profile, I suddenly felt incredibly foolish. When we got married, he told me academia was deeply biased against young female scientists. “If people know we’re married, they’ll say you slept your way to your PhD. They’ll diminish your brilliance. Keeping this quiet protects you.” I swallowed it whole. Because of that, no one in the department knew that after the lab lights went out, we drove to the same apartment and slept in the same bed. He told me academic politics were treacherous. We had to be flawless. So, I never walked into the building with him. We never ate lunch together in the courtyard. I never claimed him in public. Even my wedding ring was relegated to a secret chain around my neck, hidden beneath the collar of my shirts. Back then, I thought none of it mattered, as long as we loved each other. It was all a lie. It was just a convenient way for him to hide me. Because clearly, he had no problem openly favoring a student when he actually wanted to. I was nothing but a living, breathing joke. In the spring of my final year, I finished the manuscript for the novel catalyst project. Before I submitted it, Simon called me into his office and said he had made some final edits. He wanted me to review them. I opened the Word document on his monitor. My eyes locked onto the very first line. Authors: Paige Sutton, Carlin Adler, Simon Adler. Paige was first author. I was second. The blood drained from my face. I looked up at him. “Simon,” I whispered, the tremor in my voice impossible to hide. “This is my project. I did all of it.” “I know.” His voice was utterly calm, adopting the detached cadence of an administrator making a budgetary cut. “But Paige did a lot of the backend data visualization. And frankly, Carlin, her writing is just stronger than yours. The narrative flows much better after her edits. Giving her first authorship doesn’t hurt you—you’re still a co-first author on paper. It’s enough.” “Enough?” My hands were shaking so hard I had to grip the edge of his desk. “This is three years of my life. This was the cornerstone of my dissertation. How am I supposed to secure a postdoc without a sole first-author publication on my main project?” Simon’s face darkened. “Are you questioning my authority as your PI?” I didn’t answer. He sighed, adopting that patronizing, sickeningly gentle tone again. It was the voice of a god handing out scraps. “Look. I’ll assign you a new, fast-track project. I guarantee you’ll be first author on the next one. Just let Paige have this. She needs this publication to qualify for the departmental fellowship. You already have your funding. You’re a fifth-year, one paper won’t break you. Let’s talk about it at home.” I stared at him, desperately searching his face for the man I used to know. The man who held me when my mother died. The man who promised to protect me. There was nothing there. Just cold, calculated self-interest. “What about my fellowship applications?” I asked softly. “You already won the NSF grant your second year. Give the younger students a chance. She’s older than you, she’s feeling the pressure.” I dug my fingernails into my palms until they ached. Older. Feeling the pressure. What about me? I am your wife. What does my pressure, my anxiety, my future mean to you? “We will talk about this at home,” I said, and walked out. He didn’t come home until late that night. I sat on the living room sofa in the dark, waiting. At 11:00 PM, the lock clicked. When he walked in and saw me sitting there in the shadows, he flinched. “You’re still awake?” “I was waiting for you.” He took off his shoes, walked into the living room, and sat down on the armchair across from me. He looked deeply uncomfortable. “Go ahead,” he said. I looked at him, my voice completely flat. “Why did you really give my paper to Paige?” He let out a heavy breath, running a hand through his hair. “Carlin, I already explained this to you. She needs—” “I don’t want the HR answer. I want the truth.” He went silent. The silence stretched so long I could hear the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. I thought he was going to refuse. Then he spoke. His voice was hoarse, fractured. “Because she’s pregnant with my child.” A gust of wind rattled the apartment windows. The apartment was suddenly freezing. I stared at his face. The face I had loved for five years. He looked entirely alien to me. “What did you just say?” He dropped his gaze to the floor. “Paige… she’s pregnant. It’s mine.” I stood up. I sat back down. My brain was a wall of white noise. I didn’t know what to do with my hands. When I finally found my voice, it was barely a whisper. “When?” “Three months ago.” “Three months?” My voice cracked, rising in pitch. “We have only been married for three years!” He looked up at me, his eyes swimming with something that looked like guilt. “Carlin. I am so sorry.” I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t want his apologies. I stood in the center of the room, my whole body vibrating. “Simon, you made me hide our marriage. You said it was for my career. You told me to let her abuse me in the lab, because she was just a junior student. You forced me to give her my paper, because she needed it. And now you’re telling me she’s pregnant with your baby?!” He didn’t speak. “Look at me!” I screamed. He looked at me. And in his eyes, beneath the guilt, I saw something else. Something that broke me completely. Relief. He was relieved it was finally out. “Carlin, I’ll handle it,” he said softly. “Just give me some time.” I unclenched my fists. I took a slow step back. Hot tears spilled over my eyelashes, hitting the hardwood floor. “Time?” A bitter, jagged laugh ripped out of my throat. “I gave you three years, Simon. What did you give me?” I looked at him with absolute clarity. “I don’t want your time. I want a divorce.”

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