Category: English

My mystery husband, from our arranged marriage I’d never even met, wanted a divorce. When I told him it was too much of a hassle, he laid his cards on the table, practically begging. [I’ve been in love with a girl for ten years. The only reason I agreed to this fake marriage was to placate our parents, so that one day, I could pursue her with a clean slate.] [I’m finally in a position to win her heart, and I’m asking for your help. After all, it’s impossible for me to ever fall for you, let alone have a real marriage with you.] [I’ll give you fifty million dollars as compensation for breaking the contract. And as for that A-list celebrity you like, I have my ways of making him marry you, willingly.] For the money and the celebrity, I agreed to fly back home for the “divorce.” But the very next second… My private, personal phone buzzed with a friend request. [Hi, this is Jonathan Craig. We went to high school together.] 1 Jonathan Craig’s mother was a formidable woman. After just one meeting with my father, she had him—a man who had treated me like the apple of his eye my whole life—agree to our arranged marriage. But on the day of our first “date,” Jonathan only sent his secretary. The gist was this: his mother had arranged the marriage behind his back, and he had no intention of marrying me. However, if I was willing to enter a fake marriage to deceive our parents and allow our two companies to cooperate, he would sign a contract with me. He would pay me ten million dollars a year, with the contract renewable annually. Since I didn’t know Jonathan and had zero interest in him, and since I was worried my father would just arrange another marriage if this one fell through, I agreed. For over eight months, Jonathan and I never had direct contact. Everything went through his secretary. But tonight, he sent a friend request to my work phone. [Hello, I’m Jonathan Craig.] I was surprised. I tapped on his profile. His username was his full name, simple and direct, befitting his image as a corporate titan. But his profile picture was jarringly out of place: a cute Ragdoll cat. The cat looked uncannily like a stray I had meticulously fed back in high school. I’d wanted to take it home after graduation, but it disappeared. I was upset about it for ages. I zoomed in on the picture, studying it for a long while. Finally, I concluded they just looked alike. It wasn’t the same cat. I put it out of my mind and hit [Accept]. Jonathan introduced himself again and stated his purpose: [Hello, Stella. This is Jonathan Craig.] [For personal reasons, I need to terminate our fake marriage contract ahead of schedule.] [I will compensate you for the breach of contract.] [When is the earliest you can return to the country to handle this with me?] I stared at my phone like a confused old man on the subway. It took me a while to digest it all before I replied: [We’re not legally married, so we don’t have to go through the courts. I don’t think I need to fly back for this, do I?] He replied instantly: [Actually, my mother is insisting that I bring you to tell her about the divorce in person. So it’s imperative that you make the trip.] [Furthermore, I’d like for the termination of our agreement to be a formal, written contract, signed by both parties, to avoid any future complications.] Complications? Was he afraid I’d cling to him later? Ha. The nerve. I couldn’t be bothered to type. I used voice-to-text. [Flying is exhausting. I don’t want to come back.] [If you’re worried about me causing trouble, you can just send the contract over. I’ll sign it and mail it back.] Jonathan: [But if you don’t come back, my mother won’t agree to us separating.] [And the contract isn’t because I’m worried about you. It’s because I don’t want the girl I love to ever misunderstand what we had.] I was a little shocked. [You’re in love with someone?] To convince me, Jonathan opened up completely, his tone almost pleading: [Yes. I’ve been in love with her for ten years. I wouldn’t be who I am today without her. She’s more important to me than my own life.] [The whole point of this fake marriage was to be able to pursue her one day with a clean slate.] [I’m finally in a position to do that, and I’m begging you to help me.] [Because I could never, ever fall for you. We could never be a real couple.] [I’ll give you fifty million dollars in financial and emotional compensation. Also, my secretary mentioned you’re a big fan of the singer Asher Vaughn. As part of the deal, if you want, I have the means to make him marry you, willingly.] According to our contract, he only owed me twenty million. But he was offering fifty. And he was going to make my favorite celebrity marry me. He was a living saint. I typed excitedly: [Are you sure? Fifty million, and you can get Asher Vaughn to marry me?] Jonathan: [Absolutely. If I’m lying, may I be damned.] Me: [You being damned doesn’t do me any good.] Jonathan: [If I’m lying, may I be punished to never win the heart of the woman I love.] Swearing on the girl he’d loved for a decade. Tsk, tsk. Now I was completely convinced. [Fine. I’ll fly back tomorrow.] Jonathan seemed to let out a huge sigh of relief. [Thank you. Do you need me to send someone to pick you up from the airport?] 2 I was in an excellent mood and decided to tease him a little. [Sending someone is so impersonal. I want you to come pick me up yourself.] He was typing for a long time. [Okay. Send me your flight number after you book it.] I hadn’t expected him to agree. But fine by me. The sooner we met, the sooner this would be over, and the less chance there was for anything to go wrong. After sending him my flight information, I blocked my parents and posted on my private social media account. [This girl is coming home tomorrow. Who’s asking me out?] I went to the bathroom, and when I came back, my post had blown up with notifications. At the same time, I had a new friend request on my private account. From Jonathan Craig. [Hi, I’m Jonathan Craig. We went to high school together.] Looking at the request, a dozen question marks popped up over my head. Jonathan Craig and I were high school classmates? How come I had absolutely no memory of him? And he already had my other account, so why was he adding this one? Did some busybody screenshot my post and send it to him? After all, that “asking me out” part could easily sound like I was planning to cheat on him. And our contract explicitly forbade any acts of infidelity. I mentally kicked myself for getting carried away. I immediately set the post to private. And, of course, I didn’t accept his friend request. My father is a nationally renowned entrepreneur. To prevent me from being kidnapped for ransom during my school years, I never used my legal name, Stella. Instead, I used my mother’s surname and went by Faye Lane. Only my immediate family knew. Likewise, I had separate phones and accounts for work and my private life. The private one was for friends and family; the work one was for colleagues and acquaintances. Given my relationship with Jonathan, he belonged firmly in the “work” category. Thankfully, Jonathan got the hint. When I didn’t accept, he didn’t send another request. The next day at noon, I arrived at the domestic airport on schedule. When I called Jonathan to have him meet me at the arrivals gate, he hung up on me. Then he sent me a message: [I’m so sorry. I just saw the girl I love at the airport.] [To avoid any misunderstandings, I can’t pick you up. Please just take a taxi. I’ll reimburse you for the fare.] [Transferred $10,000] Excuse me? Did he think this was about the money? This was a matter of pride! And for a CEO of his stature to go back on his word like that! I furiously typed back: [You love her that much? What if she rejects you and tells you to pursue me instead? To have a real marriage with me?] Jonathan seemed to ponder this seriously. A moment later, he replied: [It has to be her. If she told me to marry you, I would have no choice but to end my own life to prove my devotion.] I…! Was he just that deeply in love? Or was I just that repulsive? He would rather die than marry me. I, who had never once been rejected by a man, was so angry my chest physically hurt. I took a deep breath, put my phone away, and pushed my luggage cart towards the exit, scanning the crowd. I was trying to spot which idiot might be him. But instead, my eyes met a searing gaze. The owner of that gaze was dressed in a classic black and white suit. He was tall, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. His features were so strikingly handsome they looked like they’d been sculpted by a master artist, drawing frequent glances from passersby. Some of the younger women stealing looks at him couldn’t help but blush. I’ve seen plenty of handsome men, but never one as eye-catching as him. So I met his gaze boldly. Maybe it was because I was also, objectively, very attractive, but the handsome man seemed to shy away. After less than five seconds of eye contact, he looked away, the tips of his ears turning red. 3 He quickly glanced back, pretending to look at something else, only to lock eyes with me again. And again, he bashfully looked away. Tsk, tsk. I couldn’t help but smile. How could a man that handsome be so easily flustered? And with that devastatingly confident face, he was making expressions more suited to a shy puppy. The contrast was absolutely delightful. Suddenly, I wanted to test him. Was he into me? If I walked over to him, would he dare to ask for my number? But the thought of contact information immediately reminded me of my deadbeat fake husband. Who knew where that creep was hiding, watching me and his dream girl. Ugh. I sighed. Forget it. I wasn’t in the mood. But as I turned to leave, I saw in the reflection of the airport glass that the handsome man was still watching me intently. My curiosity got the better of me. I abruptly turned around and started walking towards him. But to my surprise, as he watched me approach, step by step, his eyes widened, and his fingers began to tremble slightly. He looked both thrilled and terrified. Then, on his long, powerful legs, he scrambled away in a panic. What the—!! Am I that scary? …That can’t be right. Then he must just not be interested. I gave a self-deprecating laugh and went to find a taxi. My phone buzzed. It was Jonathan. [I want to get this contract terminated as soon as possible. Can I take you to see my mother tonight?] Me: [Fine.] Jonathan sent an electronic document. [Please review the termination clauses. If you have any additions or changes, add them and send it back to me.] I opened it. Besides the fifty million and the promise to help me marry Asher Vaughn, Jonathan had specifically added a clause emphasizing that during our “marriage,” we’d had no physical contact and held no affection for each other. Furthermore, after termination, neither party could entangle the other in any way, or they would be liable for a fifty-million-dollar fine for emotional distress. I mean, seriously… He was the one afraid of me clinging to him, but he had to dress it up as a mutual agreement. Seeing how little he thought of me, how much he was guarding against me, I suddenly found him very dislikeable. It just made me want to be done with him even faster. [I’ve read the contract. It’s fine as is. Pick me up at my Greenwich townhouse in two hours.] Jonathan: [Okay. With my mother, we’ll stick to the story that our values don’t align and we don’t want to hold each other back.] Me: [Whatever. You can say what you want.] The townhouse was a coming-of-age gift from my father. I was staying there for two reasons. First, my dad really admired Jonathan, and I was afraid he’d be angry I’d decided on a “divorce” without consulting him. Second, my best friend, Lucy, lived next door, and she promised me a surprise tonight. The moment I got home, I showered, did my hair, put on a full face of gorgeous makeup, and slipped into a stunning, figure-hugging green slip dress. I was genuinely pissed off at Jonathan. I wanted to weaponize my beauty. I wanted him to see what a vibrant, breathtaking woman he was missing out on. Jonathan was even more impatient than I was. When I contacted him, he was already waiting outside my complex. But it was rush hour, and the entrance was clogged with cars and people. As I was about to ask which car was his, I saw the handsome man from the airport, sitting in a black Maybach by the side of the road. His large, elegant hand was resting on the open window frame. A Patek Philippe watch adorned his wrist, its silver face glinting in the evening sun, a beacon of his effortless grace. A cigarette was perched between his long fingers. He took a drag, then flicked the ash out the window. The prominent veins on the back of his hand rose and fell with the movement. The sight was impossibly, captivatingly beautiful. But I was just appreciating the view. Remembering how he’d fled from me, I had no interest in getting to know him. I texted Jonathan: [I’m at the entrance. Which car are you?] While I waited for his reply, I saw the handsome man pick up his phone, glance at it, and then lean out his window, looking around. Then, his gaze locked onto mine, as if frozen in place. 4 The sounds of cars and people around me suddenly faded away. He had stolen all my attention. I could only watch as his expression shifted from surprise to delight, and from delight to panic. Finally, it settled into a tense, swirling vortex of emotion… Before I could puzzle out why he always looked at me so strangely, Lucy pulled up in front of me, rolling down her window with a cheerful grin. “Came out specially to greet me?” “Huh? Oh, no, I was just heading out.” “For what?” The “marriage” was, at Jonathan’s request, a secret known only to our two families. Now that we were “divorcing,” there was even less reason to broadcast it. I smiled. “Just some personal business.” “Well, cancel it if you can. The surprise I mentioned? My friend is hosting a get-together tonight, and Asher Vaughn is going to be there. I’m taking you.” My eyes lit up. “For real?” “For real.” An A-lister like Asher Vaughn was a rare sight, even if you threw money at it. And terminating the contract with Jonathan could wait one more night. I hopped into Lucy’s car and sent Jonathan an explanation: [Something urgent came up. I’ll go see your mom with you tomorrow.] Jonathan’s reply was surprisingly accommodating, as if my canceling on him was exactly what he wanted: [Okay.] [But you won’t have something else tomorrow, will you?] [I’m really anxious to get this over with. Otherwise, I don’t even dare to say hello to her when I see her.] I was confused. I quoted a common saying back at him: [The two aren’t mutually exclusive. If you want to say hi, just say hi.] Jonathan: [Our divorce might get leaked. I don’t want to have any contact with her while I’m still technically married. I don’t want her to be mistaken for a homewrecker.] So, this is what it was like to love someone. To be so careful, to cherish them to such a degree. Moved, I told him the truth: [I can’t promise I won’t have something else tomorrow. But I’m back in the country now. I will definitely terminate the contract with you.] Jonathan: [?] [What do you mean by that?] [You don’t want to terminate it anymore?] His anxiety and agitation were practically leaping off the screen. I sighed helplessly. Remembering Lucy still needed to go home and change, I made a new offer. [With your mom—if you can guarantee you’ll be done in an hour and I can leave, I’ll go to your place right now. If not, I will be there tomorrow! I swear!] Jonathan must have believed me. His mood seemed to improve, and he even made some small talk: [An hour probably won’t be enough. Let’s just do it tomorrow. I have other plans tonight anyway.] I replied with an [OK] and ended the chat. Two hours later, Lucy brought me to the most luxurious private club in the city. The moment the door to the private room swung open, my heart pounded with excitement. I instinctively looked towards the center seat of power. But it wasn’t Asher Vaughn sitting there. It was the handsome man in the Maybach. Under the glittering lights, he was lounging on the sofa, his long legs crossed, exuding an air of aristocratic dominance. It was clear he was the one everyone deferred to. I froze for a second. Seriously. Three times in one day. What kind of fate was this? At the same time, the handsome man looked up, his gaze sweeping lazily towards the door. The instant he saw my face, his eyes lit up. He immediately uncrossed his legs and placed his hands on his knees, sitting up perfectly straight. In a flash, he transformed from the king of the room into a schoolboy, sitting primly, desperate to make a good impression on his teacher.

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Flood Countdown: 12 Hours. City-wide mandatory evacuation. My parents frantically stuffed all our belongings into the car and sped off. They took my adopted cousin, even her two little pet turtles. The only thing they forgot was me. As the floodwaters surged, my mother finally remembered she had another daughter. “Lily, you have to run! The flood is coming!” “Where are you?” I cried. Over the phone, her voice was laced with guilt. “Just run! Get out of there!” Then I heard my cousin, Claire’s, excited voice in the background: “Mom, Dad, look! The highway is clear!” In that instant, I understood. They had already abandoned me. After I miraculously survived the flood, my biological parents came to the shelter, crying, wanting me back. But I walked right past them and ran into the arms of my new mom and dad. 1 “Lily, you have to run! The flood is coming!” The sound of rushing water had woken me. When the landline rang, my backpack was already floating, my second-grade workbook a pulpy mess. “Mom? The house is flooding! Where are you?” Panic seized me, and I burst into tears, my small hands fumbling, unsure of what to do. My mother didn’t answer immediately. When she did, her voice was heavy with guilt. “Just… just run, Lily.” It was only then that I noticed. Every door in the house was wide open. My parents’ room looked like it had been ransacked. My cousin’s room was empty. Even the two small turtles she kept on the balcony were gone. A roar filled my head, and my face drained of color. A terrifying thought clawed its way into my mind. No, it can’t be… They wouldn’t leave me. “Mom? Dad? The water’s rising! I’m scared, please, come and get me…” I sobbed, clutching my stuffed rabbit, my small body curled into a corner of the sofa, trembling uncontrollably. My mother didn’t answer. Instead, I heard Claire’s cheerful voice. “Mom, Dad, look! The highway is clear!” In that moment, my world tilted and shattered. The flood was coming, and my parents had taken my cousin and fled. They’d packed everything, not even forgetting Claire’s pet turtles. But they had forgotten me. My father’s voice, thick with anger and shame, crackled over the line. “You have the nerve to ask? You were sleeping like a log! Nothing could wake you!” My sobs grew louder. I’d been running a fever for two days before my mom had even noticed. She’d called the school, given me some medicine, and I’d fallen into a deep, medicated sleep. My mother’s voice was sharp with impatience now. “Stop crying! There’s still time before the flood hits. Go downstairs and find some of the other neighbors who are evacuating. Your father and I will pick you up with Claire later.” The line went dead with a screech of static. The power was out. The water was rising faster. Crying, I scrambled for the stairs. We lived in an old, five-story apartment building. Halfway up, I remembered the inflatable ring Claire used for her swimming lessons. Sobbing, I ran back to get it. The water level kept climbing, relentless, until it had swallowed the entire fifth floor. I clung to a wooden plank, the swim ring looped over my arm, and drifted for what felt like an eternity. A deep, penetrating cold seeped into my bones. My consciousness began to fade. 2 When I woke up, I was in a makeshift hospital bed. In a daze, I felt someone feeding me medicine, gently cleaning my face. A sharp prick in my hand made me whimper, and I slowly opened my eyes. A woman in a white coat was looking at me with a gentle expression. “You’re awake, little one. Don’t move. This shot will help you get better faster. Why were you all alone in the flood? Where are your parents?” My gaze fell, and large tears splashed onto the clean white blanket. I just cried, saying nothing. The doctor’s eyes widened in alarm, and she quickly changed the subject, her voice full of regret. “Would you like some chicken? I can go get you some.” I looked at her and gave a small, timid nod. The high fever had damaged my throat, and I couldn’t speak. Whenever anyone asked about my family, I just shook my head. They assumed I was an orphan. They would sigh and look at me with pity. Someone suggested sending me to an orphanage. But I clung to the doctor’s white coat. Wherever she went, I followed. I couldn’t bear to be left behind again. The doctor, a kind woman named Mrs. Song, couldn’t bring herself to leave me. She took me home with her. When she opened the door, a little boy’s face lit up. “Mom! Dad! You really got me a big sister!” He circled me, full of curiosity, while I stood there nervously, twisting the hem of my shirt. Mrs. Song laughed. “Peter has been begging for a sister every single day.” Her husband, a good-natured man who worked for the city government, smiled. After he spoke, their eyes met, and they went into another room to talk for a long time. Later, Mrs. Song knelt in front of me, her voice soft. “Would you like to stay here with us? Would you let me be your mom?” I stared at her, stunned and overwhelmed. My vision blurred as hot tears fell onto my hands. “…Momma,” I whispered. Her face broke into a radiant smile. “You can talk!” After that, they started the adoption process. I took my new father’s last name, Song. They named me Maya, because, as my new mom said, they found me in the water. 3 Two years later, it was the first day of school in September. Peter was starting first grade, and I was in fifth. I confidently led my new parents through the crowded halls to find Peter’s classroom. “Mom, Dad, that’s Mrs. Gable. She used to be my English teacher. Now she’s Peter’s,” I explained. Just as I was about to go say hello, a familiar voice called out. “Lily? Is that you, Lily?” A second later, a woman grabbed my arm. It was my biological mother. Standing behind her was Claire, who was also starting first grade. My mother’s face was a mixture of shock and elation. She stared at me, her eyes tracing my features, confirming I was the same girl from her memory. A choked, sorrowful sob escaped her throat. “Lily… my daughter! I thought you were dead! Where have you been? Where have you been all this time?” She clutched me, her body shaking with sobs. “Lily, I missed you so much. Why don’t you call me Mom?” I looked at her blankly. “Ma’am, I think you have the wrong person.” Her eyes widened in disbelief. I pulled my arm free and ran to my new parents, hiding behind them as if I were frightened. My biological mother’s heart seemed to break. “How can you not know me? Lily, look at me, it’s Mom! We were separated in the flood two years ago!” I frowned, my expression a mix of confusion and annoyance. “You’re really mistaken, ma’am. My mom and dad are right here.” She froze, her gaze shifting to our family of four. She shook her head in agony. No… How could her perfectly fine daughter suddenly belong to someone else? How could she be calling other people “Mom” and “Dad”? The other parents and students in the classroom were starting to stare, unnerved by her frantic behavior. My adoptive parents exchanged a look. They understood immediately. My new mom looked down at me. I gave a slight shake of my head. Though she didn’t understand why I was denying it, she still protected me. “Ma’am,” she said firmly, “you’ve made a mistake. My daughter’s name is Maya Song, not Lily.” Just then, my biological father arrived and heard the whole exchange. The light in his eyes died. “Maya?” he mumbled, utterly lost. “But she looks just like Lily.” Mrs. Gable came out to see what the commotion was. “Claire’s mom, you must be mistaken. I know Maya. She was one of my students.” Everyone was watching. Claire looked mortified. “Mom, get up! Please, just get up!” People started to dismiss it as a tragic misunderstanding—a grieving mother seeing her lost child in a stranger’s face. Some even tried to comfort my biological mother. Just as I was starting to relax, she lunged at me, tearing at my shirt. “Lily has a red birthmark on her stomach! Let me see!” I screamed. My new parents immediately shielded me. “Are you insane? Tearing a child’s clothes off in public? If you don’t stop, I’m calling the police!” The scene descended into chaos. Then, my mother’s triumphant shout echoed through the hall. “There it is! It’s her! She is Lily!” My heart sank. She’d seen it. 4 We all ended up at the police station. In front of the officers, my biological parents were hysterical, pointing at my adoptive parents and screaming. “It’s them! They’re child traffickers!” “They kidnapped our daughter and changed her name! Those monsters!” My adoptive parents looked grim, but for my sake, they remained silent. I watched my biological parents’ meltdown with a blank face, feeling nothing. “Alright, that’s enough!” Officer Miller slammed his hand on the desk. “This is a police station, not a market! If you want to shout, take it outside!” They fell silent, but their eyes were still burning with rage. Officer Miller turned to me, his voice gentle. “Little girl, who are your real mom and dad?” Under my biological parents’ hopeful gaze, I pressed closer to my new parents. “I don’t know them.” My biological mother’s eyes filled with despair. “Lily, think carefully. I’m your mother.” My biological father exploded. “Officer, she must have gone through some kind of trauma! That’s why she’s lost her memory! You have to investigate these two traffickers!” My new dad frowned. “Sir, Ma’am, I understand your pain, but please, calm down. You’re scaring my daughter. You say Maya is your child. How did you lose her?” My biological parents froze. My mother’s eyes darted around guiltily, and my father started to stammer. “We… we got separated during the flood.” A sarcastic smile touched my lips. “How careless of you.” My mother’s face went pale. Then, as if to cover her guilt, she started wailing. “Child, you don’t understand how evil people can be! If all the traffickers in the world were dead, no child would ever be lost! They must have drugged you to make you forget! Don’t you people have a conscience?” She sobbed hysterically, a perfect imitation of a grief-stricken mother on a TV show about finding lost children. But she never once mentioned the truth—that they had left me to die in the flood. My biological father pointed a shaking finger at my new parents. “You’ll be cursed! I bet that son of yours is bought too! Officer, these two need to be executed! The death penalty!” My new dad’s face was livid, and my mom was trembling with rage. “Watch your mouth in front of the child!” I stepped in front of my new parents. “Whatever you say bounces off me and sticks to you.” My biological parents looked like they’d been slapped. Officer Miller rubbed his temples. “Is this child your biological daughter? If you have a birth certificate, show it to them and put this to rest. If not, we’ll have to do a DNA test.” My new parents exchanged a hesitant look, but before they could speak, I cut them off. “Why should I have to do a DNA test with them? If anyone needs to provide proof, it’s them. Don’t I know who my own parents are?” I didn’t want to acknowledge them. Not at all. Officer Miller paused. The kid had a point. He turned to my biological parents. “Do you have any proof?” 5 “The birthmark! My daughter has a red birthmark right on her stomach, exactly the same,” my mother said quickly. I scoffed. “What kind of proof is that? Lots of people have birthmarks.” She was speechless. Just then, an older officer from the records department walked by with a mug of tea. “Oh, hey,” he said casually. “Looks like this little girl found her birth parents.” Everyone’s expression changed. I clenched my fists. You old fool! Of all the times to show up. My biological parents’ faces lit up. They grabbed the old officer. “This child was adopted?” The officer looked confused. “Yeah, I processed the paperwork myself. What’s wrong?” My mother collapsed to the floor, wailing. “The truth is out! She’s my daughter! My lost daughter!” “Is this true?” Officer Miller asked my new parents. Seeing that the secret was out, my new mom finally admitted it. “Maya is indeed our adopted daughter. But we are not traffickers. We went through the official, legal adoption process.” My biological mother shrieked at her. “Of course, you’d say that! Why didn’t you admit it before? You lying, heartless animals!” She looked at me then, as if I were a long-lost treasure. “Lily, we are your parents. They’re the bad guys. Please, just try to remember!” “We demand a DNA test! We’re taking our daughter home!” my biological father insisted. I glanced over at Claire in the corner. She was staring at me with pure hatred, as if she resented me for coming back to steal her parents. “That won’t be necessary,” I said, my voice clear and steady. “I haven’t lost my memory. I remember you.” My mother’s face turned a ghastly white.

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My childhood sweetheart, Jasmine, was a knockout, the kind of girl who could be a movie star. The line of guys trying to ask her out could have stretched from our front door halfway to Paris. One day, I asked her if I could cut in line. She just rolled her eyes at me and said I was insane. “Fine,” I shot back, a reckless grin spreading across my face. “If I’m insane, then from this moment on, I’m going to be the psycho who personally destroys every chance you have at romance.” 01 And so it began. Whenever a new suitor tried to confess his feelings to Jasmine, I’d materialize out of nowhere to sabotage them. I’d shout at the top of my lungs, “You don’t want to date Jasmine! She goes weeks without showering! And she has the worst case of athlete’s foot you’ve ever seen. The second she takes off her shoes, the stench could knock a buzzard off a garbage truck from a mile away!” Every time I pulled this stunt, Jasmine would explode. “Leo, you have a death wish!” Jasmine and I grew up together, our houses separated by a single picket fence. She was the golden child, the one all the parents in the neighborhood compared their own kids to. Not only was she stunningly beautiful, but she was also a straight-A student. The stream of admirers was endless. Every morning, the first thing she’d do upon reaching her desk was to clear out the pile of breakfast offerings—croissants, muffins, smoothies—and toss them all to me. Thanks to her popularity, I saved a fortune on food, money I promptly spent on my growing collection of trading cards. Of course, it wasn’t a one-way street. I earned my keep. I’d often do her chores for her, scrubbing floors or mowing the lawn, just so she could have a quiet corner to study in peace. Sometimes, I even took the beatings meant for her. Her father was a drunk, a bitter man who’d always wanted a son. But her mother’s poor health meant Jasmine was their only child. Having a boy was out of the question. This failure, as he saw it, festered inside him. When he was drunk, he’d hit her mom. Even when he was sober, he’d find some excuse to lash out at them. His favorite line, spat out like poison, was always the same: “My life’s biggest mistake was marrying a woman who couldn’t give me a son, and ending up with a good-for-nothing girl like you who shames me in front of everyone.” But Jasmine had a spine of steel. Every time he said it, she’d fire right back. “My mom is the best mom in the world, and I’m not ‘good-for-nothing.’ The only failure here is you—a pathetic man who gets his kicks from hitting his wife and daughter.” And every time, his fists would answer her defiance. A storm of violence would follow. Her mother would always plead with her to just stay quiet. “Let it go,” she’d whisper, “he’ll be better once the alcohol wears off.” Jasmine would never back down, wiping away tears with a furious hand. “Mom, you’ve been ‘letting it go’ for years. Has he ever gotten better? Has he ever changed?” One night, her father unbuckled his leather belt, the metal buckle glinting menacingly under the dim kitchen light. He was coming for Jasmine. Without a second thought, I lunged forward and wrapped my arms around his waist, screaming for Jasmine to run. But she stood frozen, her jaw set. “No. I’m not running. If he wants to kill me, let him try.” Her father roared at me to let go, threatening to use the belt on me instead. I just held on tighter. In my world, protecting Jasmine was the only thing that mattered. The first lash of the belt bit into my back, sharp and searing. I cried out as angry, red welts rose on my skin, but I didn’t let go. The nightmare only ended when my own parents burst in, drawn by the commotion. Later, as my mom gently applied ointment to my back, she sighed. “Leo, you don’t have a lick of sense, do you? When someone’s coming at you with a belt, you run.” “I couldn’t,” I mumbled into my pillow. “If I ran, what would’ve happened to Jasmine?” My mom’s voice softened. “Oh, you little rascal. I know you like her. But couldn’t you have grabbed her and run together?” My face burned hot. “I don’t like her like that! I just… I couldn’t stand seeing her get hurt.” But she never blamed me for getting beaten for Jasmine’s sake. In fact, her heart broke for that girl. Whenever Jasmine came over to do homework, my mom would see the bruises peeking out from under her sleeves and her voice would crack. “Honey, does it hurt?” Jasmine would always put on a brave face. “It’s nothing, Mrs. Gable. I’m fine.” My mom would tend to her cuts and bruises, tears welling in her own eyes. But this was the nineties. In our small town, women didn’t have much of a voice. The word “divorce” was spoken in hushed, scandalized tones, as if it were a mortal sin. 02 Jasmine once begged her mom to leave him. To file for divorce. Her mother reacted with fury, slapping Jasmine across the face. “Are you trying to turn me into a shameless hussy? A disgrace?” Jasmine had endured countless beatings from that man without shedding a tear. But that one slap from her own mother broke her. The tears finally came, silent and bitter. After that day, she never mentioned divorce again. She stopped talking about how pitiful her mother was, or how unlucky her life had been. When it came time for college, Jasmine chose a school a thousand miles away, effectively cutting off all contact with her family. She paid her way with scholarships and a string of part-time jobs. She never came home for holidays, choosing instead to work and save money. My mom, worried sick about her, would always slip me extra cash. “Take care of Jasmine for me, Leo. That girl has it rough.” College changed Jasmine. Her natural radiance was replaced by a cool, melancholic air. There was a distance in her clear, guarded eyes that kept everyone at arm’s length. She was still breathtakingly beautiful—tall and graceful, with delicate features that could make the world fade into the background just by sitting still. On the university’s online forum, a “Campus Queen” poll made her the undisputed winner by a landslide. The line of guys trying to win her over was longer than ever. I could have funded a week’s worth of pizza just by selling the love letters she received as scrap paper. Since everyone on campus knew we were close—and had confirmed we weren’t a couple—I became the unofficial gatekeeper. Until that one fateful day, when I asked her, “Can I cut in line?” She gave me a long, searching look before declaring, “You’re insane.” And that’s when my new mission began. Anyone who came to me asking for her number got the same story: “Jasmine has a terrible case of athlete’s foot and rarely showers. The smell is… legendary. It’s incurable. Whoever ends up with her is in for a lifetime of misery.” The rumor worked like a charm. The flood of suitors dwindled to a trickle, and for a while, Jasmine seemed to enjoy the peace and quiet. But then, a post exploded on the campus forum. It detailed Jasmine’s tragic backstory: the alcoholic, abusive father; the constant fighting; the miserable childhood. It painted her as a brave, resilient girl who was putting herself through college all alone. The post went viral, shooting to the top of the forum’s hot list. Suddenly, my “athlete’s foot” rumor was forgotten. A wave of misplaced chivalry swept across campus. The number of guys pursuing her became a veritable army. Her dorm hallway was constantly clogged with guys offering to fetch her water, save her a seat in the library, or just straight-up hand her cash. Overwhelmed and furious, Jasmine finally snapped. She issued a campus-wide manhunt for me. She was convinced I had leaked her secrets. And I knew she wouldn’t let it go. Growing up, Jasmine was the undisputed leader of the neighborhood kids. Anyone who crossed her learned their lesson the hard way. 03 I’ve lived under the shadow of Jasmine’s “tyranny” my whole life. The second I heard about the manhunt, my first instinct was to hide. But I had severely underestimated her influence on campus. I thought I’d be safe in the all-male dorms, but I was wrong. Her legion of “suitors,” eager to curry favor, stormed my dorm and dragged me out like a prisoner of war. They shoved me in front of her, each of them preening like they’d just slain a dragon for their queen. Jasmine dismissed them with a wave and then grabbed my ear, parading me across the main lawn for all to see. She hauled me to a secluded spot behind the library and ordered me to get on my knees and apologize. “Jasmine, I swear on my life, you’ve got the wrong guy,” I pleaded. “I didn’t post that.” She stared at me, her eyes like chips of ice. “Do you really expect me to believe you, Leo? We’re a thousand miles from home. Who else here knows about my family? It was you. It had to be you.” “It wasn’t!” I insisted, desperation creeping into my voice. I had no way to prove it. She was right; I was the only one here who knew her secrets. I had followed her to this freezing northern city, a fact my mom loved to tease me about. “You wouldn’t have moved so far from our sunny little southern town if it wasn’t for Jasmine, you little rascal.” “Then who was it? Did you tell someone else about me?” she demanded. I knew how private she was. People had asked, but I’d never breathed a word. “No, Jasmine. I swear. I didn’t post it, and I’ve never told anyone your story.” Her expression shifted, a flicker of deep-seated hurt crossing her face. “Why should I believe you? I remember when we were kids. You sold out my hiding spot during a game of hide-and-seek for a single piece of candy. Why wouldn’t you sell my secrets now for a bit of attention or a few bucks?” Her words were a punch to the gut. That memory, twisted and ugly in her retelling, stabbed at me. She had been the hide-and-seek champion. No one could ever find her. But I knew her tells, her favorite spots. I could always track her down. One time, another kid offered me a piece of candy if I revealed her location. What she never knew was that it was a White Rabbit creamy candy, her absolute favorite. I’d betrayed her for it, and the guilt had eaten at me. She was so mad she refused to speak to me for days. I held onto that candy, waiting for the right moment. Later that week, on a bright, sunny afternoon while we were perched on the branch of an old oak tree, I gave it to her as a surprise. Her face lit up with a pure, unadulterated joy that made my own heart swell. She carefully smoothed out the edible rice paper wrapper and handed it to me. “Here,” she said, “you keep this for me.” I treasured that little piece of paper for years. But now, she was using that memory as a weapon against me. The pain was sharp and real. “Jasmine, you really don’t believe me?” I asked, looking up at her. Her eyes suddenly welled up, turning red at the rims. “Leo, this is the one thing I hate more than anything. I don’t need anyone’s pity. Not then, not now, and not ever. This time, you’ve really, truly crossed a line.” 04 With that, she turned and walked away without a backward glance. I watched her go, every instinct screaming at me to run after her, to make her understand. But my feet felt like they were nailed to the ground. She was too angry. Chasing her now would be useless. The only thing I could do was find the person who really wrote that post. My heart heavy, I trudged back to my dorm. I pulled up the forum on my computer and found the post. The user ID was deceptively simple: “A Classmate.” A surge of anger shot through me. It was obviously a setup, designed to point the finger directly at me. It had to be one of my “rivals,” some coward trying to win Jasmine over by playing dirty. The post had thousands of replies. I sent a private message to the original poster, asking to meet, but my message vanished into the digital void. I posted public replies, demanding they show themselves, but “A Classmate” remained silent. I knew I couldn’t let this fester. I had to talk to Jasmine. But she was ghosting me completely. Her roommates, who had apparently heard the “official” story, now gave me the cold shoulder, muttering about what a jerk I was. The weight of being falsely accused was crushing. The more it hurt, the more determined I became to prove my innocence. I spent days lurking outside her dorm, hoping for a glimpse of her, but she never appeared. Then, one day, a package arrived from my mom. It was filled with homemade specialties from our hometown, treats you couldn’t find anywhere in this cold northern city. My first thought was to share them with Jasmine. I sent her a text. Your favorite snacks from my mom just arrived. The message went unanswered. When she sent the package, my mom’s instructions were clear: “Make sure Jasmine gets some.” With no other option, I carried the box of food to her dorm, planning to ask her roommate to take it up. As I approached the building, my heart sank. There she was, standing near the entrance, but she wasn’t alone. She was with a guy. And not just any guy. It was Ethan Vance, the student council president and the forum’s officially elected “Campus Heartthrob.” I watched, paralyzed, as he gently wrapped a scarf around her neck. She didn’t pull away. Standing together, they looked like a perfect couple from a magazine cover. Next to a guy like Ethan, I felt like a cheap knock-off. He wasn’t just tall and handsome; he was a top student, charismatic, and everyone knew his family was loaded. If Jasmine were with him, she’d be taken care of. She’d be safe. Maybe this was it. Maybe it was time for me to finally bow out. A bitter wave of disappointment washed over me. I turned to leave. “Leo, stop right there.” The voice cut through the air, and I froze.

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The System latched onto me, ordering me to humiliate the villain, Jane Schwimmer—a poor scholarship student. Too cowardly for real cruelty, I meekly pushed my chicken leg onto her plate. “It’s got my germs. You have to eat it.” She blinked, confused. Later, learning her mom was drowning in medical bills, I threw a black card at her feet. “On your knees. Be my dog.” A shadow crossed her eyes—then she knelt, gripping my ankle. “Okay.” When the System checked my progress, I slapped Jane, proud of her “humiliation.” The System laughed coldly. “Moron! You didn’t humiliate her. You got her off.” Shock hit me—my fingertips still tingled where I’d touched her. 1 It’s been a month since I was dropped into this world, and I’m still hopelessly spineless. The System was practically vibrating with frustration in my head. «Seriously, what are you waiting for? Your character is a filthy rich heir. Are you actually scared of some girl from the wrong side of the tracks?» «Just go! Humiliate her! Show her how cruel the world really is!» I fidgeted. “But… how do I do that?” Before I was shoved into this story, I was just a normal, quiet guy. My life was about grades and getting into a good college, not bullying people. Besides, what kind of man picks on a girl? Then again, calling Jane a “weak girl” felt like a stretch. I’d heard rumors she fought in underground circuits—the brutal, no-holds-barred kind of fighting. I was terrified she could flatten me with a single punch. Right now, she was sitting alone in the corner of the dining hall, a picture of quiet intensity. On her tray was a plain bread roll and some of the free kimchi. «Stop dawdling,» the System hissed. «Go over there, knock her tray onto the floor, and make her lick it up.» Taking a deep breath, I picked up my own tray—piled high with steak, roasted vegetables, and a side of truffle mac and cheese—and walked over to her table. She glanced up. Her gaze was flat, impassive. She held it for a second before returning to her meager meal. I summoned my best sneer. “Jane!” Her eyelids lifted slowly, one eyebrow arching in a silent question. She didn’t speak, just watched me, a palpable pressure emanating from her stillness. My hand trembled. I used my fork to spear the chicken leg I’d already taken a bite of and dropped it into her bowl. “I bit this. It’s tainted,” I forced out, my voice cracking slightly. “Now you’re going to eat it!” I immediately felt like scum. Making her eat my leftovers? It was genuinely humiliating. A wave of guilt washed over me as I met her gaze again. “What are you looking at? In case you haven’t noticed, I can’t stand you! I’m not eating any of this. Now you can lick the whole damn plate clean!” The dining hall fell silent for a few heartbeats. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I could see her knuckles turning white as she gripped the edge of the table. I’d definitely gone too far this time. The next second, Jane reached out. I flinched, instinctively pulling back. But she just calmly picked up the chicken leg. As I stared, completely stunned, she took a bite right where my own teeth marks were. “…” “W-Why did you eat it?” I stammered. The muscles in her throat moved as she swallowed, and for some reason, the sight made my face burn. “Isn’t that what the young master wanted?” Her reaction completely blindsided me. All the nasty lines I’d practiced were stuck in my throat. “You… you…” Her eyes narrowed to slits. She wiped her fingers on a napkin, then stood and leaned in close, her breath ghosting against my ear. “Does the young master want to watch me… lick everything clean?” “Like hell I do!” Clapping a hand over my flaming ear, I shoved past her and bolted from the dining hall. «Why are you running?» the System deadpanned. «You’re making it look like you’re the one being bullied.» «Get ready for the next plot point. Her mom’s sick. It’s time to throw some money at her and make her your dog.» 2 Steeling myself, I had my family’s butler, Arthur, withdraw a fat stack of cash. Dressed in my most obnoxiously expensive clothes, I went to Jane’s apartment. It was in the tenement blocks on the east side, a world away from my family’s estate. I raised my hand to knock, but the door creaked open before my knuckles could connect. «Look at you, being all polite,» the System sneered. «Just kick the damn door in! Anyone would think you’re here to give her a charity donation.» Jane stood in the doorway, her lips pale, a flicker of surprise in her eyes when she saw me. The System’s voice spurred me on. I decided to strike first. “I heard your mom’s sick. Needs half a million for surgery, right? I—” I didn’t finish. Her gaze sharpened. “You’ve been digging into my life?” The question was so direct it short-circuited my brain, and I forgot the rest of my villainous monologue. «Stop wasting time!» the System screamed in my head. «Throw the money in her face! Humiliate her! Now!» I took a shaky breath, gathered my courage, and slammed the heavy envelope of cash against her chest. Bills exploded outwards, scattering across the grimy hallway floor. A few fluttered into the dark apartment behind her. “So what if I have?” I snarled, my voice trembling. “Now get on your knees and pick it up. Be my dog, and all this money is yours for your mother’s treatment.” Jane didn’t move. She just stood there, her jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscles straining. The silence in the hallway was suffocating, broken only by her ragged, suppressed breathing. Suddenly, a weak, rasping cough echoed from inside the apartment. Jane’s body went rigid. The storm brewing in her eyes vanished, replaced by a chilling calm. Slowly, deliberately, she sank to the floor, one knee touching the ground. Her long, slender fingers began gathering the scattered banknotes, one by one. This was the same woman who, in the underground fighting rings, beat her opponents until they begged for mercy. And here she was, on her knees, her voice terrifyingly steady. “Okay.” Even the System sounded impressed. «Now this is what I’m talking about. She’s at her breaking point. On the surface, she’s agreeing, but deep down, she’s plotting a thousand ways to kill you.» Feeling a surge of confidence, I pushed my luck. I stuck my designer shoe out in front of her. “This shithole of yours… you’ve gotten my shoes dirty.” “Lick them… No, wipe them clean.” Jane looked up. Her eyes were like deep, dark pools. “Ethan,” she said, her voice low. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” 3 It was the first time she’d ever used my name. My heart hammered against my ribs. In the original story, the villain held grudges like a religion. Once she amassed power, anyone who had ever crossed her met a grim end. And I was at the top of her list. “Oh god, I’m so scared,” I whimpered internally. Pissing off the villain? I’m so dead! «I praise you for one second and you fall apart,» the System griped. «Once the plot is complete, you’ll be extracted from this world. By the time she’s powerful enough for revenge, you’ll be long gone. What’s there to be afraid of? Now, be more vicious!» Right. My confidence inflated once more. I deliberately nudged her knee with the toe of my shoe. “Who gave you permission to speak to me like that?” “Jane, do you want to pay for your mother’s surgery or not?” “I have a no-return policy on disobedient dogs.” She squeezed her eyes shut, her hands, resting on her thighs, clenching into tight fists. I could feel the rage rolling off her, so intense it felt like she wanted to crush me into dust. If she looked at me like she was going to flatten me, I was ready to make myself flat and roll away. After a long moment, she knelt completely, both knees on the floor. I stumbled back in alarm, but she shot out a hand and grabbed my ankle. Her palm was warm and dry, and the contact sent a jolt through my entire body. My voice came out as a squeak. “Wh-what are you doing?” I tried to pull my foot back, but her grip tightened. “Didn’t my master want his shoes cleaned? Why are you running away?” A faint smirk played on her lips. She lifted the hem of her own t-shirt, revealing a glimpse of a taut, well-defined stomach. My eyes widened as she used the soft cotton of her shirt to gently wipe the dust from my shoe. We were so close I could smell the clean, simple scent of soap on her skin. My face was on fire, and the point of contact on my ankle felt like it had been set alight. “Your pants got dirty, too.” Jane’s voice was a low, husky murmur. Her fingers brushed, feather-light, against my calf. “Should I help my master take them off and wash them?” “N-No!” I ripped my leg from her grasp and fumbled for the card in my pocket, throwing it on the ground. “Who told you to talk so much? Come to my house. Now.” “A dog belongs with its master. You’ll be on call, 24/7.” With that, I turned and fled. 4 Back in my room, I buried my face in a pillow. «Finally, the most important plot point is done,» the System said, sounding pleased. «That dramatic exit was pretty cool, you know.» Was it possible I was just running fast because I was terrified of getting beaten up? «By the way, I’ve picked up a side gig, so you’re on your own for a bit. Just remember: be domineering, be cruel. Humiliate her. Got it?» I grunted in affirmation. And just like that, the System went silent. Later that night, I woke up thirsty and padded downstairs barefoot for a glass of water. As I rounded the corner into the kitchen, I ran right into Jane. “What are you doing here?” Arthur had already informed me that Jane’s mother was settled in a private hospital room with round-the-clock care. Jane had stayed with her until 10 PM before leaving. I had no idea where she’d gone after that. Her sudden appearance made me jump. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack, creeping around in the middle of the night?” I clutched my chest. “Get on your knees and apologize!” After a full day of playing the villain, the lines were starting to come naturally. Jane’s eyes were dark pools in the dim light, making her look even more intimidating. I was already regretting my outburst, thinking I should just ignore her and leave. But then, without warning, she knelt, her hand closing around my bare ankle. The unexpected touch threw me off balance. I gasped, grabbing her shoulders to steady myself. Mortified and flustered, I tangled my fingers in her hair. “You pervert! How dare you touch me? I’m going to punish you!” Something soft and plush enveloped my feet. It was the slippers I’d had the maids prepare for her. She let go of me, her voice hoarse. “The floor is cold.” I looked down, the tips of my ears burning. “Master,” she murmured, her gaze lifting to meet mine. “How are you going to punish me?” Her hand, impossibly warm, slid up from my ankle, tracing a line of fire along my calf. A jolt of pure, mortifying shame shot through me. I slapped her, the sound sharp in the silent house. “Bad dog! Don’t you ever touch me unless I tell you to!” Her head snapped to the side from the force of the blow. She worked her jaw, her tongue darting out to press against the inside of her cheek. A dark, unsettling look crossed her face. This is it, I thought. I’m dead. But then I noticed something on her other cheek, near her jawline—a faint, reddish smear she hadn’t quite washed off. It looked like dried blood. “You have a cut on your face.” My anger evaporated, replaced by a pang of something soft and unwelcome. I reached out, my fingers gently brushing the mark. “Does it hurt?” Jane’s breath hitched. Her hand, resting by her side, clenched into a fist. “You went fighting again, didn’t you?” She remained silent. She led me to the living room sofa and sat me down. Just as I was about to get up, I lifted the hem of her shirt. Her torso was a canvas of bruises and faded scars. “I gave you the money. Why are you still doing something so dangerous?” She calmly pulled her shirt back down, her eyes fixed on mine. “Is my master worried about me?” “W-Worried? Don’t be ridiculous! I just… you’re my toy, that’s all. But I’m the only one who gets to break you. No one else is allowed.” She swallowed hard. Her gaze was intense, indecipherable, and it made my heart beat erratically. I scrambled up, avoiding her eyes, and retrieved the first-aid kit, tossing it into her lap. “Heal up so you can serve me properly. If I see you injured again, I’ll find a replacement.” As I started up the stairs, I heard her quiet reply from behind me. “I understand.” A pause, then her voice, low and resonant, filled the space. “From now on, Master… you can bully me all you want.” 5 Jane was always busy. She had classes to attend, her mother to visit at the hospital, and her duties as my personal maid. I kept her running ragged with my demands. In the morning, she had to be up before me to prepare a lavish breakfast spread, which I would then pick at for a few minutes before pushing it all towards her. “You only deserve my leftovers!” I’d declare. When it rained, I would deliberately stomp through the deepest puddles. And when she’d kneel to offer me a piggyback ride, I’d wrinkle my nose in disgust. “Your clothes are too rough, they’re scratching me! Have Arthur buy you something decent before you’re allowed to touch me again!” And whenever there was a thunderstorm, she was required to make a pallet on my floor, talking to me until I fell asleep. “If you dare fall asleep before me, I’ll make you sleep without a blanket!” I was a monster. 6 Jane’s mother’s surgery was a success. On the day of her discharge, I tossed a set of keys at Jane. “Don’t go back to that dump. My legs were sore for a week after climbing all those stairs.” “This apartment is a dump too, obviously not up to my standards, but at least it has an elevator. It’ll save your mother the trouble of dying from exhaustion on her way up, which would just stick me with the funeral bill.” “And take all this fancy health food I can’t be bothered to eat. Make sure your mom takes it on schedule. If any of it expires, I’ll ban you from the dinner table!” She just stared at me, her eyes glistening with an unfamiliar moisture, the corners turning red. All the torment I’d put her through these past weeks… it must have been pure agony for her. I scoffed, tilting my chin up. “Once you’re done here, get back to the mansion. You have to do my group project for me.” “Yes, Master.” I magnanimously granted her a few days off to spend with her mother. That night, however, I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned, the sheets tangling around my legs. I wanted to call her, but then I remembered I’d given her time off. That didn’t stop me. I grabbed my phone and fired off a text. «It’s so annoying. That stupid cat you brought home keeps meowing outside my window.» I added, «You only have three days off. Not a minute more!» Rain began to patter against the glass. I burrowed deeper under the covers. I was robbing her of precious time with her mother. Cutting her off from her only family would surely accelerate her descent into villainy. A smug thought crossed my mind. I was so perfectly, wonderfully evil. The System would be so proud of me when it got back. Heh. Content, I finally drifted off to sleep. In the dead of night, a faint noise stirred me from my deep slumber. I’m a heavy sleeper—the kind who could sleep through a marching band playing dirges on the front lawn. So I didn’t notice when Jane, drenched from the rain, slipped silently into my room. She tiptoed to my bedside, placing a glass of warm water on the nightstand. She then sat on the floor beside my bed, gently taking my hand and lifting it to her lips, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to my knuckles. Carefully, she placed my hand back on the bed and tucked the covers snugly around my shoulders. “The cat is a good girl,” she whispered to my sleeping form. “She’s in the pet room.” “Master… did you miss me?” Before she left, she leaned over me, burying her face in the crook of my neck, holding me for a long, reluctant moment. 7 For three straight days, I woke up feeling like I’d been through a wringer, my entire body aching. There was a strange, lingering heat on the inside of my thighs. And I kept having dreams about a snake. In the dream, it would coil itself tightly around me, its head nuzzling against my lips, my earlobes, my neck. Just as I felt I couldn’t breathe, it would speak, its voice uncannily like Jane’s. “Shh, don’t bite.” I’d try to push it away, only to hear its low, husky command. “Your tongue. Give it to me.” “No,” I’d gasp. I’d shove at it with my hands, but the sensation would linger even after I woke up—a phantom wetness and a persistent itch on my fingertips, my palms, the back of my knees. It felt as if a thousand tiny ants were kissing my skin. The next time I saw Jane, I blushed for no reason, but quickly covered it with a complaint. “Come here and rub my shoulders,” I ordered. “They’re killing me.” She was wearing an apron, placing a perfectly fried egg on a plate. The picture of domesticity. At my command, she walked over obediently. Her face was serene, her voice cool. “Where does it hurt, Master?” I rolled my neck. “Right here.” Her warm hands settled on my shoulders. “You’re very tense.” “Just relax. I’ll be gentle. I won’t push too hard.” A strange, tingling sensation spread across my skin where she touched me. “Master, don’t clench. I’m stuck.” “…Okay.” “Not there.” “A little lower.” Her hands slid down my spine. “Here?” “Mmm.” “I’m going to apply more pressure now, Master. Can you handle it?” “If you hurt me, you’re dead!” Her fingers roamed, exploring slowly, then pressed down on a knot. An embarrassing sound escaped my lips. I quickly tried to change the subject. “I keep feeling like there’s something in my room when I sleep these past few days.” “It keeps rubbing against me, and pressing down on me. I can barely breathe.” “It has to be that cat of yours, sneaking in with its toys.” Behind me, Jane’s hands stilled for a fraction of a second. Her voice was thick when she finally spoke. “Yes. It’s the kitty.” “I knew it!” I spun around in my chair to face her, leaning on the backrest to lecture her. “Don’t let it in my room ever again!” She bit her lip, the tips of her ears turning a faint pink. “That… might be difficult.” I was about to explode, but I noticed her breathing had become heavier. Her dark eyes swirled with an emotion I couldn’t decipher. “Why would it be difficult?” I pressed, suspicious. Jane’s gaze dropped to the sliver of skin visible at the collar of my pajamas. “Master…” Her voice was huskier now, her fingers unconsciously tracing the edge of the chair. “The truth is…” «Host, I’m back! So, how did the mission go over the past year?» 8 The System’s sudden return cut Jane off. My excitement surged. “She’s completely under my thumb! My own personal dog. I’ve totally broken her. She must hate my guts by now.” «Oh? You actually managed that?» Terrified it wouldn’t believe me, just as Jane reached out to straighten my collar, I acted. I slapped her. Hard. She flinched, her expression unreadable, but her voice was a low, guttural rasp. “Master, what was that for?” I puffed out my chest. “See? Utterly humiliated! You want to kill me right now, don’t you?” The System was silent for a moment, then it let out a cold laugh. «You idiot! She’s getting off on this.» «I told you to humiliate her, not reward her!» A series of data charts and graphs flooded my vision, all tracking Jane’s stats. «You’ve practically maxed out her affection meter! What is this, a hostile takeover? Are you trying to steal the male lead’s job?» What? As I stood there, dumbfounded, a wet, tingling sensation spread across my fingertips. I snapped back to reality. Jane had grabbed my hand. Her tongue was tracing slow, deliberate circles over the pads of my fingers. So wet. So hot. Her eyes darkened. She leaned in, presenting her other cheek. “Master. You should hit this side, too. For symmetry.” The System’s voice was dripping with sarcasm. «So this is how you two have been ‘flirting’ while I was away?» No! This is a misunderstanding! My face burning, I yanked my hand back and scrambled upstairs to change. «The cruel young master and the dark, brooding villain.» «Tsk, tsk. I’m almost starting to ship it.» “There has to be a mistake!” “I’ll go down there right now and make her kneel and warm my feet, how about that?” «Save it. The female lead has just appeared. Your next mission is to sabotage her relationship with the male lead.» I pointed at myself. “Who? Me?” «Who else? Wrecking relationships is what evil side characters do for a living.» “System, could you please not say things that make me want to die?” «Her name is Laura. Your childhood friend. You go to the same university. Now go, give her this love letter.» The System issued its command.

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The year I presented as an Alpha, I strutted right up to my arch-nemesis, Adrian Starr, to rub it in his face. I was too busy gloating to notice the dark glint that flashed in his eyes. A few days later, Adrian presented. In my room. He presented as an Enigma. His pheromones crushed me, a total, absolute submission. His hand snaked around my waist, and his voice, laced with a chilling pleasure, whispered in my ear. “Good. Alphas are durable.” 1 “Adrian, I’m sorry, okay? Can you please not write me up?” Adrian didn’t stop, his pen scratching my name onto his clipboard. He glanced at me, the corner of his mouth tight, before clicking his pen shut. “Let this be a lesson. Don’t lend your uniform jacket to other people.” I was losing my mind. I grabbed his sleeve, my voice dropping to a desperate whisper. “No, come on! He’s got a disability, I was just being nice… Don’t do this to me. If I get another demerit, my mom is going to actually murder me!” Beside me, Leo, his face pale, tugged on the hem of my shirt. “Gary, it’s okay, I can just give it back…” In the next second, Adrian yanked me forward. He pressed his pen down hard, the sound sharp as he viciously crossed my name off the list. His expression was grim. “Don’t let it happen again.” I grinned, pushing Leo’s wheelchair through the school gates. “See? I told you it’d be fine,” I teased as we rolled along. Leo offered a soft smile, his face a picture of innocence. “Thanks, Gary. So, what’s the deal with you and the student council president?” I snorted. “We’re arch-nemeses.” 2 Adrian and I weren’t always sworn enemies. But when I think about it, the only time I ever beat him at anything was the day we were born—I cried louder. From day one, Adrian was the perfect kid: top grades, impeccable manners. I was the opposite: bad grades and a temper to match. He was also my next-door neighbor, constantly dropping by. When he was little, he was a bit spacey. Someone could shove him, and it would take a full two minutes for the tears to come. My burgeoning hero complex immediately took him under my wing. Yeah, I protected him for a solid two years. But then he started taking kid’s Taekwondo, Muay Thai, and whatever else. My protection became obsolete. And then I started to notice things. The Lego set I’d given up on in frustration? The little genius would have it finished in a few hours. The class bully I couldn’t stand up to? He’d handle them with a mix of quiet threats and unnerving charm. What happened to that timid little kid? The final nail in the coffin came after I shattered my mom’s entire makeup palette. As she surveyed the colorful dust, she pointed a finger at me, then gestured toward Adrian, who was innocently reading on our couch. “Gary Howard! Why can’t you be more like Adrian?” My eight-year-old eyes went wide. From that day forward, Adrian Starr was my mortal enemy. 3 The sun climbed from the branches to the peak of the sky. Something was tickling me… I groggily swatted at the hand on my face. “Adrian, stop it. I’m trying to sleep.” His hand clamped around my wrist, his voice a low rumble. “What were you doing last night?” I rolled over, ignoring him. A second later, I was hauled upright with practiced ease. “Get up. It’s time for lunch.” My eyes flew open. I smacked him hard on the arm. “Nag, nag, nag, I get it!” My mom adored Adrian. Our front door was practically his. There were times I’d forget my own keys and have to get them from him. Adrian’s parents were always busy, so he’d come over to our place whenever he needed a meal. I was used to it. I brushed my teeth and ambled downstairs feeling fresh. Adrian was on the sofa, scrolling through his phone. He put it down the moment he saw me, his dark eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made my skin crawl. Did he find out what I did last night? Sure enough, he beckoned me over. “Come here.” I shuffled my feet, trying to sound nonchalant. “What do you want?” His grip on my wrist was firm, his voice strained with patience. “You were at a hotel party yesterday?” “Who was there?” “Did you drink?” I ran a hand through my messy hair. How did he know everything? “Nobody. And why do you care so much?” Adrian released my wrist, his voice low and threatening. “If you don’t give me the full story after lunch, I’m telling your mom.” I bolted for the dining table. I wasn’t scared of him. Mom beamed, placing a bowl of soup in front of me. “Gary, honey. Arguing with Adrian again?” “Nope,” I mumbled around a mouthful of salted egg yolk chicken wings. She ruffled my hair. “You two shouldn’t fight.” “You know, before you were even born, Adrian’s mom and I made a pact. If you two presented with compatible dynamics, we’d have you get married.” I nearly choked on my soup. Me and Adrian?! I scoffed. “Fine, then I’ll deign to take that T-Rex of an omega off your hands.” The truth was, our pre-presentation reports had come out years ago. I had an eighty percent chance of being an Alpha. Adrian’s was one hundred percent. Adrian let out a soft laugh, slowly peeling off the disposable gloves he’d used for shelling shrimp. “Is that so?” I took the opportunity to snatch the perfectly shelled shrimp from his bowl and drop them into mine. He just watched me, a faint smirk on his lips, not stopping me. I shot him a triumphant smirk. Shrimp stolen from someone else always tastes better. 4 “Andrew, Leo, and Max. That’s it, I swear.” I sat meekly across from Adrian, debriefing him on the previous night. “No drinking, just karaoke. And we weren’t out that late. I was home before three.” Adrian let out a cold laugh. “Not that late, Gary? You’re really asking for it.” I rubbed my nose, feeling a little guilty. How on earth did he find out? As I was wondering, a strange feeling washed over me. My head started to spin, and my face felt hot. “Adrian, I don’t feel so good… Can we just drop it?” The words had barely left my mouth when the world tilted, and I collapsed straight into his arms. Adrian’s face paled. He whipped out his phone and dialed for an ambulance. My vision went black. All I could feel was a searing heat, and an unbearable itch blooming on the back of my neck. I mumbled his name through the haze. “Adrian… my neck… scratch it for me, it itches so bad.” I didn’t hear a reply. I just felt a cool dampness on my skin. He must have gotten a wet cloth to wipe my face. When I opened my eyes again, a bouquet of flowers was shoved in my face. My mom was beaming. “Congratulations, sweetie! You’ve officially presented as an Alpha! You’re a real man now!” I grinned, taking the flowers, my first thought being to find Adrian and show off. Oh, right, where was he? He brought me here, didn’t he? My eyes scanned the room and found him slouched in a chair nearby, legs spread wide, hands clasped as he watched me. Excitedly, I called him over and ripped the inhibitor patch off my newly formed scent gland. “Adrian! See this? I’m a real Alpha now!” My mom rushed over, fumbling to stick it back on. “Gary!” I looked up, utterly confused. What? Adrian stepped forward and ruffled my hair, a small smile on his face. “I see.” Later, my mom explained. “A newly formed gland is like… a private part. And showing it is an invitation. An invitation for someone to bite you.” “Of course, after a while, it’ll mature and recede, so you won’t be able to see it.” I had unknowingly invited Adrian? A wave of heat crept up my neck. It had to be anger. Definitely anger. Mom pinched my cheek. “I don’t care if you skip your other classes, but you need to pay attention in biology!” I nodded frantically. “I know, I know.” 5 Back at school, my friends crowded around my desk. “Gary! Dude! What’s it feel like? Presenting as an Alpha.” Most people present around their eighteenth birthday. Right now, our class was a mix of presented and un-presented. I casually tossed my backpack into my desk, my grin stretching from ear to ear. “What’s it feel like? It feels like I’m invincible.” Max told me to check my desk. I pulled out a handful of love letters. “The news that you presented as an Alpha spread like wildfire yesterday. You’ve already got admirers.” I rubbed my nose. “Well, I’m not really looking to date right now.” I said that, but I still carefully tucked the letters into my bag. Throwing them away would be cruel. A true, gentlemanly Alpha like me would never do something so heartless. Leo limped over on his crutches. “So when are you planning to start dating, Gary?” I crossed my legs, leaning back in my chair. “We’ll see.” Suddenly, one of Leo’s crutches slipped, and he stumbled towards me. I shot up and grabbed his arm to steady him. “Careful.” The movement brought us incredibly close. So close that I could smell the faint, sweet peach scent of his pheromones. I immediately let go and took a few steps back. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a figure flash past the crack in the classroom door. It looked a lot like Adrian. I shrugged it off and went back to goofing around with my friends. I shouldn’t have. After school, Adrian cornered me. He dragged me into an alcove where the shadows were so deep I couldn’t make out his expression. “Gary, do you have any idea about the boundaries between Alphas and Omegas?” So, that was him. I raised an eyebrow, feeling cocky. “Of course I do. But Leo’s not just some random Omega.” Adrian’s voice was flat, but it crackled with a dangerous energy. “Is he an Omega you’re interested in? An Omega you want to claim? Or is he yours already?” A sudden, inexplicable shiver ran down my spine. In the dim light, his eyes seemed to glow with a predatory fire. I felt like prey. I touched the back of my neck. “No, it’s not like that. I don’t like him that way. He’s just one of my best friends.” I added, defensively, “What’s it to you, anyway?” Adrian’s heavy breathing suddenly quieted. “Gary, you need to be more mindful of your actions as an Alpha. If you can’t figure it out, I will be more than happy to teach you.” I mumbled a few incoherent agreements. This version of Adrian felt… dangerous. Best not to provoke him. Before the sky went completely dark, Adrian walked me home. And then he forced his way into my room.

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1 The year my hatred for Lucian Blackwood was at its purest was the year he destroyed everything I loved. To please his little secretary, he butchered the dog I’d raised for ten years. For my revenge, I put a knife in his little secretary five times, admiring her crazed screams as if they were a work of art. Everyone thought Lucian would kill me for it. Instead, he just threw a set of divorce papers at me, his voice like ice. “You were always just a stray my family took in. If you’re going to be a rabid bitch, then get out.” I vanished that night. Five years passed. Then, I saw her again. I was attending a gala on behalf of my father when I ran into Lucian’s secretary, Evelyn. She deliberately sloshed a glass of red wine down the front of my gown. “Well, look what the cat dragged in. If it isn’t the stray the Blackwoods threw out.” Without a word, I snatched a champagne bottle from a passing tray and brought it down on her head. “Five years, and you still haven’t learned how to act human. I guess it’s up to me to teach you.” 2 Evelyn’s shriek ripped through the air. Her little clique of sycophants immediately swarmed forward, forming a wall in front of her. “Who the hell do you think you are?” “Do you have any idea who you just hit?” “Listen here,” the loudest one snarled, pointing a finger in my face. “She’s the fiancée of Lucian Blackwood, heir to the Blackwood Holdings! You’ve just signed your own death warrant! Mr. Blackwood will destroy you!” Another one stepped forward to block my path, a cruel smirk on his face. “I have to see this. Some nobody with a death wish, daring to touch Mr. Blackwood’s precious darling. Everyone in high society knows how he dotes on her. He’d burn down half the city if she so much as broke a nail, and you just broke her head open!” Evelyn clutched her bleeding forehead, her eyes burning with hatred. “I’m telling you, Scarlett, five years ago I was merciful and let you go. Don’t think for a second I’m still afraid of you! You were nothing but a pet Lucian kept at home! I ruined you once, and now that you’ve dared to show your face again, I’ll ruin you for good!” I took in the new Evelyn. I had to admit, Lucian had polished her well. The woman who once timidly called me “Mrs. Blackwood” was now threatening to have me destroyed in public. Too bad for her, I was never one to back down. Not five years ago. Certainly not now. Surrounded, I glanced at the shattered glass on the floor. I bent down, and under the shocked stares of everyone present, I picked up a jagged shard. A slow smile spread across my face. “Evelyn.” I advanced on her, step by step. “Five years ago,” I said, holding up the blood-stained piece of glass, “I was far too generous with you.” “What.” My eyes dropped to her stomach, and I traced an invisible line from her face downwards with the tip of the shard. “It seems that carving up your insides didn’t teach you a lesson.” “In that case…” My smile turned venomous. Before anyone could react, I raised the shard and lunged, aiming straight for her abdomen. But I never reached her. A hand shot out, clamping around my wrist like a vice. A scream tore through the air, followed by Evelyn’s tearful, trembling voice. “Lucian.” “I’m scared.” It was the same look of terrified fragility she’d worn five years ago as I held her down, plunging the knife in again and again. “Lucian, I’m scared.” The years collapsed. A familiar voice, one I hadn’t heard in half a decade, spoke from right behind me, low and menacing. “Scarlett. It’s been five years.” “And you still,” Lucian’s voice dripped with chilling anger, “haven’t learned your place?” He wrenched my arm back. A sharp pain made me wince, but there was none of the old surrender, none of the defeat I’d felt back then. Instead, it ignited the dormant violence in my blood. I tightened my grip on the shard, feeling its edge bite into my own palm, and just as Lucian was about to rip it from my hand, I whipped my head around and gave him a brilliant smile. “Long time no see.” “Lucian.” I twisted, driving the shard deep into his arm. Blood sprayed, blurring my vision. 3 The scene devolved into chaos. Screams echoed around me, people were yelling for security, and whispers cut through the noise. “Who is that woman? Is she insane? She just stabbed Lucian Blackwood!” “I heard Miss Hale mention five years ago… Wasn’t there some orphan girl the Blackwoods took in? His wife in name only! My God, could that be her?” “It can’t be. They said that girl had no one. Her only friend was a dog, and after she offended Miss Hale, they tortured it to death for a whole night! The video went viral in our circles. They skinned it alive!” “Look! Mr. Blackwood… he’s smiling!” Blood was pouring from Lucian’s arm. “Lucian!” Evelyn screamed. Ignoring her own wound, she threw herself in front of him, shielding him with her body as she shrieked at me. “Scarlett! How dare you hurt him?” “The Blackwood family raised you for twenty years, and this is how you repay them? You ungrateful viper! Apologize to Lucian right now!” The sight of Evelyn playing the part of the grand lady of the Blackwood family was laughable. I met Lucian’s gaze over her shoulder. “You’ve trained her well,” I said coolly. “A loyal little dog to defend you. You must be so proud.” Evelyn’s face went white. Just like he did five years ago, Lucian pushed her behind him. “Scarlett, whatever was between us ended five years ago,” he said, his voice cold and flat. “I’ve told you before, my heart belongs to Evelyn. I will never love you. I could never even like you.” He stared at me with contempt. “I don’t care what you’ve been doing for the last five years, or how you managed to scam an invitation to this gala.” “But I will not allow you to come back to the Blackwood estate. I will not let you harm Evelyn again.” He looked down his nose at me. “Normally, I would have just ignored your presence here tonight. But you hurt Evelyn, and for that, there’s a price,” he said, then clapped his hands. A group of security guards closed in. “You can do this yourself, or I can do it for you.” One of the guards offered him a knife. Lucian took it, waiting for my answer. I just laughed. “Lucian, do you really think the world revolves around you?” I gestured to the knife in his hand. “If you have the guts, you’d better finish me today,” I said, taking a step closer. “Because when it’s my turn to finish you…” I leaned in, my voice a whisper. “Don’t you dare get on your knees and beg.” “Hahaha.” My laughter echoed through the silent ballroom. Lucian’s face was a thundercloud. Seeing him tremble with rage reminded me of that day, five years ago. He had used my dog, Goldie, to force me to my knees. He’d locked Goldie in a steel cage, his muzzle bound shut. For every second I refused to beg, a knife would slice into his body. My pride was shattered. Watching Goldie’s agony, I collapsed, begging. “Lucian!” I had cried, sobbing. “Please, don’t hurt him. I’ll admit I was wrong!” I slammed my forehead against the floor. “I was wrong! I know I was wrong!” Goldie was all I had. My only dream was to take him and leave the Blackwood house forever. “Let him go,” I pleaded, “please, just let him go!” I will never forget the look of pain in Goldie’s eyes. And I will never forget the bone-deep hatred that look carved into my soul. Looking at Lucian now, all that was left was the smoldering embers of that hate. “Lucian, you’re nothing but a puppet on Evelyn’s strings,” I said, enunciating every word. “If the old Patriarch knew you were running his legacy into the ground, he’d claw his way out of his coffin to throttle you himself.” “After all, Blackwood Holdings is finished.” 4 His hand clamped around my throat. My breath was stolen. As the oxygen faded, I met Lucian’s bloodshot eyes and heard his voice, crazed and vicious. “Scarlett, don’t think for a second I won’t kill you!” “You’re just a dog of this family,” he snarled, slamming me to the ground. Shards of champagne glass embedded themselves in my skin, a thousand tiny cuts that made me flinch. He grabbed my hair. “When I tell you to kneel, you kneel!” “When I tell you to die, you die!” A cruel smile twisted his lips. “But today, I don’t think I want you to die.” He patted my cheek. “After all, such an amusing plaything shouldn’t be broken so easily. Don’t you agree?” I stared at his face, inches from mine. I remembered that day, when Evelyn sent me the video, her voice dripping with triumph. “I just told Lucian that your dog scared me. And look! He skinned him alive for me.” “I wonder… if I tell him that you scare me too, do you think he’ll skin you next?” “It’s so funny, isn’t it? You’re Mrs. Blackwood in name, but you’re worth less than the servants.” Now, looking at him, a metallic taste filled my mouth. As his hand came up to pat my cheek again, I spat a mouthful of bloody phlegm right in his face. I watched the shock morph into disgust, and I smiled. “You’re right, Lucian,” I purred, mimicking his tone. “How could you die so quickly? A game this fun has to be played to the very end.” If I was back, I had no intention of letting the Blackwood family off the hook. Every person responsible for Goldie’s death would pay. His end was brutal; their end would be worse. Seeing my defiance, Lucian’s grip on my hair loosened. He wiped the blood from his face. “Yes,” he whispered. “Some things are best savored slowly.” “Since you’re back,” he looked at me, a dangerous glint in his eyes, “let’s play.” He turned away from me and gave an order to the guards. “Watch her. Don’t let her escape.” Then, his entire demeanor shifted. He turned to Evelyn, his voice gentle and concerned. “Does it hurt?” He softly wiped away her tears. “I’ll take you to a private room.” She collapsed into his arms. “With you here, it doesn’t hurt.” “With you here,” she sobbed, “I’m not afraid of anything.” I watched as Lucian swept her into his arms and carried her away. I sat on the floor, the cuts on my body stinging with every small movement. The sycophants who had surrounded me before now found their voices again. “Some piece of trash comes out of nowhere and dares to hurt Mr. Blackwood. The fact that he didn’t kill you on the spot is a blessing. Get lost.” “Exactly! I heard the stories. You’re just an orphan the old Patriarch picked up off the street. He took you in, and you repaid his kindness by attacking Miss Hale. You deserved to be thrown out.” “Speaking of which,” one of them laughed, pulling out his phone. “I still have the video of that dog.” He opened his gallery and found the file. The others crowded around. “Let me see.” “I want to see it too.”

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On Valentine’s Day, my husband—not one for sentiment—did his usual: ordered custom roses for every employee at his company. The Cole Group was trending again, praised as the city’s most romantic corporation. Then a post from Adrian’s young assistant appeared: a photo of her company bouquet with parted petals revealing a sapphire ring inside—the same unique piece I was outbid on at auction for $750k. Scrolling further, I found more posts: boba with a $5,200 transfer captioned “first boba of autumn,” ice cream with a “30-day tropical getaway” voucher. Comments gushed about how amazing the company was. I knew Adrian bought treats for the office—but since when did they include cash and vacations? Her latest photo showed a man across from her, cropped except for his dark blue tie—the same one I’d picked for Adrian that morning. I paused and called him: “Working late tonight?” 1. After he confirmed, I drove straight to the company building. I rarely checked up on Adrian. I hardly ever came to his office. We’d been married for seven years. I’d been with him since he started from nothing, building his empire until he became a titan of the business world. Everyone knew I was the center of his universe. But for the past six months, his behavior had mirrored every single red flag I’d seen on those cheesy online relationship blogs. It was enough to plant a seed of doubt. Pushing down a wave of anxiety, I unlocked the main office doors. The moment I flipped on the lights, I was greeted by the sight of Adrian on one knee, holding a bouquet, his eyes filled with a deep, adoring warmth. “My love, I’ve been waiting for you.” “How did you…” Before I could finish, he rose smoothly and pulled me into his arms, resting his chin affectionately on my shoulder. “If my wife checking up on me means I get a surprise visit, I’d wish you’d do it every night. Then I could see you every day.” He leaned in close. “I love you. Happy Valentine’s Day.” Looking into his earnest eyes, I felt my heart flutter. The suspicion that had been gnawing at me began to fade. He dropped his work for the night, and we drove home together. Later, after he’d tucked me into bed, Adrian took his laptop to the living room to finish up some work. I had just closed my eyes when my phone, which I’d left on his nightstand, began vibrating nonstop. I picked it up. A string of messages from an avatar of a cute cartoon animal. No name saved, but the chat was pinned to the top of his message list. 【Mr. Cole, leaving me all alone at the restaurant on Valentine’s Day? How ungentlemanly! As punishment, you have to have dinner with me every night for the next week!】 【Hmph. By the way, how did my little script for winning over your wife work out? You big blockhead. If only you had half my brains~】 It was Adrian’s phone. He never set a passcode. I recognized the avatar. It belonged to Chloe Su, an intern at his company. For a moment, my blood ran cold. The air left my lungs. It hit me then. Adrian was never the type to say such sweet, romantic things. They say a man who’s cheating suddenly becomes overly affectionate at home, trying to wash away the guilt with loving words. The thought surfaced in my mind, and I felt a wave of nausea as I scrolled up, my fingers trembling. 【Mr. Cole, was my boba the only one with brown sugar? Thank you, my cramps are all gone now~】 【OMG how did you know I love strawberry ice cream?! You stocked a whole fridge with it for me! You’re literally the ice cream fairy, I worship you!!】 I scrolled back six months. Every single day was filled with Chloe’s bubbly chatter, sharing her favorite songs, foods, and thoughts. And Adrian, though his replies were cool and brief, responded to every single one. The last chat I’d had with him was on our anniversary. His only message was to tell me he was working late. The chat log with her seemed endless. My heart felt like it was plummeting into a bottomless abyss. Suddenly, a new message popped up. It was a voice note from Chloe, her tone sweet and docile, with a slight, choked sob. “Mr. Cole… I didn’t want you to leave. If I were just a little more selfish, would you have stayed with me tonight?… Today is the anniversary of my mother’s death. Everyone else is so happy. Everyone but me.” This time, Adrian’s reply was almost instantaneous, synced from his laptop to the phone in my hand: 【Send me your location.】 At the same moment, I heard the sharp snap of a laptop closing in the living room. Adrian pushed the bedroom door open, his movements rushed. “Clara, something urgent came up at the office. I have to go. Oh, and I’ll be working late all next week, so don’t wait up for me for dinner.” He grabbed his phone and jacket, turning to leave. “Adrian,” I called out, my voice shaking slightly. “Can you… not go tonight?” He cut me off, his tone impatient. “Come on, don’t be childish. I’ll be back as soon as I’m done. Be good.” Throughout our marriage, Adrian had always put me first. He could always sense the slightest shift in my mood. If he had just looked, really looked, he would have seen the moonlight glinting off the tears welling in my eyes. But he never gave me a second glance. Outside, a storm began to brew, the rumble of thunder echoing in the distance. I sat in silence for a long time before opening a family group chat that had been dormant for years. I typed a single message: 【I want to come home.】 2. The message sent my relatives into a frenzy of concern. My aunt, always the sharpest, sensed something was wrong immediately. 【Clara, sweetie, is that bastard hurting you? Tell your aunt, and I’ll make him pay!】 I hesitated for a moment before typing back. 【Aunt Diana, I need you to run a background check on someone for me.】 The information came back quickly. “Her name is Chloe Winston. She was a scholarship student Adrian sponsored while she was at a university in Northwood. After graduating, she started as an intern at The Cole Group.” “The whole industry is buzzing about it. They say she’s Adrian’s little pet project. No one dares to push a drink on her at business dinners. Any company that gives her a hard time finds itself facing bankruptcy.” My aunt was seething on the other end of the line, but I remained silent. A year ago, Adrian had started taking monthly business trips to Northwood, regular as clockwork. Each time he returned, he’d bring me little trinkets, things a much younger woman would like. I thought my stoic husband was finally learning to be romantic. Now I see it differently. The signs of his affair were there all along. I was just too busy trusting him to see them. A dull ache throbbed in my chest. I needed to know what kind of person had captivated him so completely. When I arrived at the office, he was in a meeting. I pushed open the door to his private office and found a young woman sitting in his chair, humming to herself as she decorated his workspace. She was… ordinary. Hair pulled back in a high ponytail. If there was anything captivating about her, it was the vibrant, youthful energy she radiated. His expensive, minimalist leather chair and polished desk were covered in pink heart-shaped stickers. Fluffy plush toys were everywhere. Tucked among them was a handwritten card with playful lettering: 【No slacking off! I’m watching you~】 Adrian was a man of strict boundaries, almost obsessively so. I’d once seen him fire an employee on the spot for touching something on his desk without permission. Yet these stickers were already yellowing and peeling at the edges. They had clearly been there for a long time. My expression darkened. Chloe saw me and shot to her feet, a flash of panic in her eyes. “Everyone else out there is working,” I said, my voice cold and clear. “Who gave you permission to play office decorator on company time? Does this company pay you to do nothing?” By now, a small crowd of curious employees had gathered by the door. Chloe’s eyes immediately welled with tears. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Cole. I’ll fix it right away…” Her voice cracked. Just then, Adrian appeared, drawn by the commotion. He stepped between us, blocking my view of her. “She’s just a kid, Clara. She doesn’t know any better. It’s not worth getting upset over.” Then he turned to Chloe, his tone sharp. “What are you still standing here for? Can’t you see you’ve upset Mrs. Cole?” At his words, a tear finally broke free and streamed down Chloe’s cheek. She turned and ran from the room. Adrian’s expression didn’t change. He reached out to stroke my hair, his voice soft and placating. “Don’t worry about it, my love. She’s just a bit playful. I’ll have a word with her.” I stepped back, avoiding his touch. “Adrian,” I said, enunciating each word, deliberately challenging him. “Negligence of duty is grounds for termination, according to company policy.” His face stiffened, his eyes growing cold. “She’s just an intern, trying to make it on her own in this city. You want to fire her over something this trivial? That’s against policy.” “An intern who was promoted three times in three months to become the CEO’s executive assistant? Is that policy? What do you think our employees who have been here for five years think of that?” I retorted with a bitter laugh. “I am the General Manager of this company. I have the authority to fire any employee who breaks the rules.” “Clara Kinnear,” Adrian suddenly barked, his voice dangerously low. “Have you had enough!?” The force of it stunned me into silence. He rarely used my full name. In seven years of marriage, this was the first time. And he did it for another woman.

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My brother had just ascended the throne. He was consumed by paranoia, convinced that every soul alive coveted his crown. As his last surviving brother, I played the part of a useless, hedonistic fool. I lived for pleasure, even taking a dozen male companions into my household. And yet… The way my brother stared at me grew darker, more sinister. “Sometimes,” he said, his voice a low growl, “I have the urge to break your legs.” Remembering the gruesome fates of my other brothers, the hair on my neck stood on end. Later, after I faked my own death and was dragged back, my brother showed me exactly what he meant by breaking me… in his bed, he nearly tore me apart. 1. When Damien uttered those words—that he wanted to break my restless arms and legs—a tremor of pure fear shot through me. On the desk lay several official reports, all detailing my transgressions. One minister accused me of scandalous depravity, of spending my nights drunk in the city’s pleasure districts. Another claimed to have witnessed me harassing the nation’s top scholar in the street. I was accused of using my status to bully the sons of officials, of forcing scribes to pen lewd and obscene stories… Damien lounged on the imperial divan, a lustrous black panther pelt draped over his legs. His expression was a mask of shadows. I shamelessly scurried forward and, just as I had when we were children, buried my face in his lap. I tilted my head back, my eyes wide and pleading. I put on my most innocent, most pathetic face. “Brother, let me explain! Hear my totally plausible defense!” “It’s not what it looks like! I was just there to listen to the music! And that idiot from the Sun family was bullying someone else, I was just serving justice…” A ghost of a smile played on Damien’s lips as he slowly raised his right hand. I flinched, squeezing my eyes shut and instinctively nuzzling his leg like a frightened kitten. “Brother, I was wrong! Please don’t hit me.” His fingers closed around my neck. “Insolent. Let go.” Only then did I realize that in my panic, my own hand had gone rogue. Hidden beneath his imperial robes, I had wrapped my fingers around Damien’s pale, slender ankle. A terrifying mistake. I snatched my hand back, muttering under my breath, “Brother, you’ve gotten thinner again. Haven’t you been eating properly? I’m going to tell the Queen Mother on you…” Damien’s expression remained as placid and unreadable as ever. “Tomorrow, you will move into the palace.” A jolt went through me. I shook my head frantically. “No! I’m not done having fun yet! Besides, my companions at the estate will miss me.” The pressure on my neck increased. “Hm?” I let out a pathetic wail. “I’ll do as you say, Brother.” 2. It was common knowledge that Emperor Damien suffered from a touch of madness. He was known to be cruel, his moods as unpredictable and violent as a storm. But to me, my brother had always been like a celestial being from a painting, his complexion touched with an ethereal, almost unhealthy pallor. He had been frail since birth, a sickness carried from the womb. When I was a child and he held me, his robes always carried the faint, bitter scent of medicinal herbs. I grew so accustomed to it that later, when I couldn’t sleep in my own manor, I had perfumers create a sachet with a similar scent. I kept it by my pillow every night, the only thing that could grant me peace. I’d never actually seen him have one of his “fits.” I suspected the “madness” was just an excuse he used to kill people. My brother wasn’t my real brother. Is that something I should even say? To put it simply: when our mother was pregnant with her second child—with the boy who was supposed to be me—a rival consort, in a last desperate act of court intrigue, managed to poison her. The child was born a stillborn monstrosity. Mother’s most trusted matron devised a plan. The dead infant was swapped with me, a foundling of unknown origin. And so I, the cuckoo in the nest, became Prince Julian, the trueborn, full-blooded younger brother of Damien. There were three years between us. Mother and Damien were both delicate and sickly, while I was robust, with an appetite that far outstripped other children my age. Heh, I used to think to myself, I’m definitely not one of them. I’d clench my fists, flexing the baby fat on my arms. At least I could protect my brother. By the time I was old enough for the Royal Academy, I had shot up in height and build, towering over him to the point where I could completely shield his slender frame with my own. The old matron would joke that I was a leaf meant to shelter him. My world revolved around Damien. I clung to him, obeyed him, but I could never truly understand him. And I feared him. 3. Of course, the moment I realized my feelings for him were… unnatural, my rebellious phase began. I stopped listening to him, deliberately defying his every word. I cultivated the persona of a fickle womanizer, falling for a new face every week, and I put as much distance between us as I could. I was terrified he would sense the truth of my heart and be disgusted. Even more, I was terrified he would discover I wasn’t his real brother. 4. After moving into the palace, I was assigned an attendant named Sam, the apprentice of the Lord Chamberlain, Felix. “Your Highness! Please, you must practice! You can’t keep scaring away the instructors!” Sam pleaded, his face a mask of worry. We were on the royal training grounds. “The Emperor has decreed that if you don’t hit the bullseye today, you won’t be served dinner.” Tch. Threatening me with dinner? Did he still think I was a child? I ignored him, strumming the bow like it was a lute. At first, Damien had tried to make me study history and policy, but the words just gave me a headache. He relented and gave me books on military strategy, but my brain turned to mush. Finally, realizing I had nothing but brute strength, he commanded me to learn archery. I knew what he was doing. He was testing me. Testing to see if I posed a threat to him. How cruel. “I wonder how Seven is doing. I miss hearing him play,” I mused aloud. Seven was one of the prettiest of my companions. There was no reply. The training ground was unnervingly silent. I turned my head and saw Damien approaching, wrapped in a heavy white wolf-pelt cloak, his presence as cold as the winter frost. He stopped a few feet away, his dark eyes seeming to swallow the light. “Still can’t do it?” he asked, his voice low. I shook my head, blinking innocently. “It is my own foolishness, Brother.” A faint, unfamiliar scent of musk drifted from him as his tall frame moved to stand directly behind me. One hand settled on my waist, correcting my posture, while the other covered my own on the bowstring. Ah! Too close! My ears instantly turned a burning red. The wind blew a strand of Damien’s long hair against my cheek, tickling me. I have no idea when the arrow was released. His cool lips were right beside my ear, his breath a warm whisper against my skin. “What are you thinking about?” I stammered, unable to form a coherent reply, and bolted. Why had my brother’s scent changed? Did he switch his incense? And his body… it felt so much stronger than I remembered… On the way back to my chambers, my mind a chaotic mess, I ran into the top scholar, Tristan Thorne. We had met last year, when I helped his ailing mother find a good physician. “How is your mother’s health?” I asked. “She is well, thanks to Your Highness’s concern,” Tristan replied, his posture impeccable, a gentle smile on his lips. “It’s quite a coincidence. My mother recently finished embroidering a new sachet for you.” Back then, he and his mother had been so insistent on repaying my kindness that I finally relented and asked her to make me a few small trinkets. He produced a small, cyan sachet from his robes, a green bamboo stalk stitched onto its surface. I took it and lifted it to my nose. My eyes widened. I smiled. It was the scent of my brother from my memories. “This is wonderful. Please thank your mother for me.” Tristan’s gaze lingered on me, the corners of his mouth curving slightly. “I’m glad Your Highness likes it.” From a shadowy corner nearby, half of Damien’s face was obscured. His black eyes were like a deep, tranquil pool, but the stillness was terrifyingly cold. 5. After my panicked escape that day, I was even more careful to keep my head down. But my brother suddenly became incredibly busy. The southern provinces were being ravaged by torrential rains and floods. Reports flew into the Emperor’s study like a blizzard of snowflakes. The lights in his study often burned until dawn. The atmosphere in the palace grew heavier with each passing day. Perhaps this was my chance to “be good.” A perfect opportunity to show that, while I might be a fool, I still knew how to worry about my brother. I put down the kite I was making from parchment and personally carried a food box toward the Emperor’s study. Outside the hall, Lord Chamberlain Felix saw me and his eyes lit up. “Your Highness,” he whispered, “His Majesty just had a terrible fit of temper. Several ministers were dismissed. He’s suffering from a headache right now.” A pang of worry shot through me. “Has my brother eaten?” Felix sighed, gently pushing the door open. “No appetite. The food was sent back untouched. He’s eaten very little recently. Your Highness, please try to persuade him.” The hall was dimly lit. Damien was slumped in the massive dragon throne, one hand pressed to his temple, his brow deeply furrowed. His thin lips were pressed into a bloodless line. He’d gotten even thinner in just a few days. My heart ached. I tiptoed inside. “Brother, the Queen Mother had some new pastries made. Would you like to try one?” He slowly opened his eyes, a profound weariness dulling their usual sharpness. “They’re very sweet!” I said, opening the box and holding a delicate lotus pastry to his lips. Damien’s gaze fell on my fingers, his Adam’s apple moving slowly. Wait. Why isn’t he eating? They’re delicious! He doesn’t think I’ve poisoned them, does he? My mind raced. I swallowed nervously. He didn’t open his mouth. The tips of my fingers, holding the pastry, started to feel numb. Just as I thought he was about to scold me for being “insolent” or “improper,” he let out an incredibly soft sigh. It was as light as a feather, but it landed on my heart with a heavy thud. He turned his head slightly, his voice raspy. “My head hurts.” I froze. Those three words were like a key, unlocking a dusty box deep within my memory. When we were children, whenever the damp, rainy weather triggered his old illness and his headaches became unbearable, he would lean against me just like this, close his eyes, and murmur, “Julian, my head hurts.” And I, with my clumsy, chubby little hands, would carefully massage his temples. My body moved before my mind could catch up. I put down the pastry, wiped my hands on a handkerchief, and moved behind his throne. My fingers, hesitant and gentle, found his temples. The moment my fingertips touched his cool, tense skin, my heart leaped into my throat. Bad idea! This was far too intimate! I tried to pull my hands back, ready to cover my tracks with my usual buffoonery. “Ahaha, brother, look at my memory, when we were kids…” “Don’t move,” his low, raspy voice cut me off. It was a command, but it held a trace of undeniable vulnerability. I froze, my fingers hovering at his temples, trapped. “Press,” he ordered, the single word leaving no room for argument. He slowly closed his eyes again, his thick lashes casting a faint shadow on his pale skin. I held my breath, applying a steady, gentle pressure. Under my touch, the tense line of his brow slowly, almost imperceptibly, began to smooth out. Something slammed into my heart. Ever since I’d understood my own feelings, I had avoided my brother, suppressing the dark desires within me. But the moment I got close to him, my treacherous heart refused to obey. In that instant, time seemed to stand still. The only sound in the vast hall was the soft whisper of our breathing. The disaster relief efforts in the south, under Damien’s near-tyrannical supervision, finally stabilized. The oppressive atmosphere in the palace eased slightly. My recent performance as a “well-behaved” brother seemed to have relaxed his guard a little. At least, the leg-breaking glint in his eyes had faded considerably. Our relationship had settled into a fragile, temporary peace. After dinner one evening, Sam approached me with a conspiratorial air. “Your Highness, a message from the Emperor. He requests your presence at the Imperial Baths.” Since that day in his study, Damien had taken to summoning me to massage his temples. But this time was different. The Imperial Baths were his private sanctuary. My stomach twisted into knots, but I went. The vast, steam-filled chamber was empty save for the echo of my own frantic heartbeat. Damien was leaning against the edge of the pool. His back was to me, his long, ink-black hair plastered wetly against his smooth, broad shoulders. The dim, yellow light sculpted the sharp lines of his shoulder blades. The taut line of his waist was a tantalizing shimmer beneath the water’s surface. Just his back alone radiated an incredible, aggressive power and a… fatal allure. This… this was nothing like the thin, pale, herb-scented brother of my memory! That strange musky scent was stronger here, carried on the hot, humid air, invading my senses and tangling my thoughts. “What are you standing there for?” Damien’s cool voice cut through the steam. It was laced with a languid quality from the heat, but it still held its customary authority. “B-brother…” My throat was dry. My voice cracked. “Come here.” Two words, simple and powerful, like stones dropped into the lake of my heart. I moved forward like a puppet on a string, my steps unsteady. The closer I got, the more overwhelming his presence became. I tripped on something—or nothing—and plunged headfirst into the pool with a huge splash. “Ugh!” Damien, as if he had known it would happen, moved with lightning speed. His hand shot out, grabbing my waist and steadying me in the water. My face was inches from his pale collarbone. My eyes, of their own accord, slid downwards. The rippling water, the shifting light… the hard lines of his chest, the faint outline of his abs beneath the surface. A searing heat rushed to my head. I let out a muffled groan and clapped a hand over my nose, a warm, sticky wetness instantly seeping between my fingers. Blood! I was having a nosebleed! A tidal wave of shame and panic crashed over me. I was finished. Staring at the Emperor while he bathed was bad enough, but getting a nosebleed… this was a death sentence! I fumbled, trying to staunch the flow, too terrified to look up at him, too mortified to look down. I wished the ground would open up and swallow me whole. “Heh…” A soft, amused chuckle echoed through the steam. I froze, my face burning. I didn’t even care about the blood seeping from between my fingers. I just wanted to die of embarrassment. No, stay in character! I bit my lip. “Brother, you keep me locked up in this palace,” I said, my voice deliberately petulant. “My heart yearns for release, but finds none. That’s why this happens…” “Julian.” He used my full name. His voice wasn’t loud, but it cut through the steam with a chilling, terrifying scrutiny. “When your male companions at the manor bathe, are you this concerned? Do you watch them with such… heated passion?” I gaped, speechless. His tone shifted again. “You like this sachet so much you wear it every day?” What sachet? I followed his gaze and saw the cyan sachet—Tristan’s gift—floating on the water’s surface. I immediately snatched it up, a wave of disappointment washing over me. The water would ruin the scent. “You truly are…” I looked up and met Damien’s eyes. They were filled with a bone-deep chill and a barely suppressed, violent rage. Oh no. He’s going to kill me. One thought screamed in my mind: Run! Now! Immediately! “Forgive me, Brother! I… I am unable to perform my duties for you today! I take my leave!” I babbled, clutching my bleeding nose like a scalded cat. Without a second glance, I scrambled out of the pool and fled, a clumsy, pathetic mess. 7. I stumbled back to my chambers, soaked to the bone, blood smeared across my face, looking like a drowned rat. Sam shrieked in terror. “Your Highness! What happened?!” He frantically helped me clean up and change. Afterward, I threw myself into bed, pulling the covers over my head and cocooning myself in the blankets, my mind racing. I could explain away the nosebleed as a result of the dry weather, but the sachet… Tristan’s sachet! The look in Damien’s eyes… a cold dread spread from the soles of my feet to the crown of my head. Would he think I was conspiring with Tristan? That I had ulterior motives? I drifted into a fitful sleep, dreaming that I was being constricted by thick vines. I struggled, I begged, but they only tightened their hold, toying with me. I woke with a start to find a damp patch between my legs. I stared in disbelief. Damn my wretched desires! “Sam! Sam!” I yelled. “Quick! Go tell the Emperor that the Prince… uh… that I’ve caught a cold! My head is spinning! I won’t be able to pay my respects for a few days!” Sam looked miserable. “Your Highness, your voice is loud enough to bring the roof down…” “Shut up! Just go!” I hurled a pillow at him. But I couldn’t hide forever. The Queen Mother sent a messenger, summoning both me and my brother to her apartments for dinner. She was a kind and perceptive woman. Was she trying to mediate between us? I had to go. The Queen Mother’s rooms were warm and fragrant, the dishes exquisite. She sat at the head of the table, a gentle smile on her face as she looked from me to Damien, who was dressed in simple black robes, his expression remote. “Damien is so busy with matters of state, and Julian is always causing trouble. It’s rare for the three of us to share a peaceful meal.” She personally placed a piece of chicken on my plate and served Damien a portion of steamed fish. “Look at you two, both getting thinner.” I kept my head down, shoveling rice into my mouth, wishing I could disappear into my bowl. “You’re right, Mother,” I mumbled. Damien merely grunted in agreement, elegantly picking the bones from his fish. But the oppressive aura around him seemed to chill the warm air in the room. “I am old now,” the Queen Mother said, her gaze shifting between us, a hint of worry in her eyes. It finally settled on me. “All I want is for you two to live in harmony. Julian, you’re not a child anymore. Those… companions in your manor are not a long-term solution. Is there anyone you have your eye on? Perhaps a young lady from a good family, or a gentleman? I can arrange it for you.” My hand tightened around my chopsticks. The secret I’d guarded for so long felt like it was about to burst from my chest. My heart hammered against my ribs. My brother was sitting right there! His eyes were on his plate, but I could feel the weight of his attention crushing me. I forced myself to look up, plastering the most exaggerated, idiotic grin on my face—the perfect expression for my foolish persona. “Oh, Mother! Why worry about such things? Your son is still young!” I waved my hand with a flourish, affecting a carefree, roguish air. “Aren’t the beauties in my manor enough to keep me busy? Marriage? How boring! Why would I want to be tied down to one person when I can be free and happy like this?” I snuck a glance at Damien. He was lifting a piece of perfectly deboned fish to his lips, his movements seamless, as if he hadn’t heard a word. But I could feel the air around him grow colder. “Right now,” I said, puffing out my chest, “I love my freedom! There is no one I like! And I have no intention of getting married! So please, Mother, spare me!” I added, “Besides, my brother isn’t married yet. What’s my hurry?” Silence descended on the room. The Queen Mother’s smile faded slightly. She sighed, assuming I was simply immature. “You and Damien… honestly.” Damien finally lifted his eyes. His gaze was like a shard of ice, pinning me in place. There was no anger, no accusation. Just a bottomless, suffocating darkness. His lips parted, his voice flat and devoid of emotion, but his words struck me like a hammer blow. “Is that so? There’s no one you like?” The question was light, but it sent a sheet of cold sweat down my back. I struggled to maintain my smile, my face feeling stiff. “Of course! Brother, do I look like a liar?” He didn’t look at me again. He lowered his gaze, picked up a silk napkin, and began to slowly, methodically wipe his long fingers. The gesture was silent, but it carried a terrifying, suffocating weight. The rest of the meal was tasteless. The moment the Queen Mother retired, I leaped to my feet and practically ran from her apartments. Outside, a light rain had begun to fall. The cold droplets on my face did little to calm my frantic heart. That last look from my brother… it was terrifying. He didn’t believe me. He didn’t believe a single word.

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For five years, Evelyn was my world. Five years, and she was always distant, a beautiful, cold star I could only orbit. She never once let me touch her, but I never thought of leaving. When she was diagnosed with liver cancer, I didn’t hesitate. I gave her two-thirds of mine. Overwhelmed, she finally accepted my proposal. I was ecstatic, planning our wedding, dreaming of a future that was finally within reach. Then, on his way back to crash our wedding, her first love—her perfect, idealized memory of a man—died in a car accident. All her grief, all her rage, she poured onto me. Her revenge was merciless. It ended with her lighting a match and burning me alive. It was only in that final, searing moment of agony that I understood. The five years I had loved her without question were the same five years she had kept him enshrined in her heart. She was only marrying me to avoid the label of being ungrateful. My entire life’s devotion had been a joke. Now, reborn at the peak of my love for her, I’m the one calling it off. Later, she’ll come to me, crying, telling me I was the only one who ever truly loved her. Sorry, Evelyn. But I don’t love you anymore. 1 At the opening reception for her new art gallery, Evelyn Monroe stood in the center of a glittering crowd and announced, “I’ve decided to marry Liam Shaw.” The room erupted in applause and cheers, a wave of congratulations washing over us. But amidst the joy, one figure stood out like a crack in a masterpiece: Julian Vance, Evelyn’s first love. He drained his champagne flute in one gulp, then turned to me, a smirk laced with venom playing on his lips. “Congratulations, Liam. You bought your way into her life with a piece of your liver, and it finally paid off.” I was in a corner of the gallery, arranging canapés and drinks, but his words sent a storm raging through me, dragging up the wreckage of my last life. Evelyn, with liver cancer, one foot already in the grave. Her parents were too old to be donors. Julian, her beloved ex, had booked a flight out of the country the night he heard the news. I was the only match. I loved her. I couldn’t bear the thought of her dying so young. I gave her two-thirds of my liver without a second thought. She had cried, her gratitude a warm flood that thawed her usual frost. She promised to marry me, to spend the rest of her life taking care of me. But when Julian died, her gratitude curdled into a corrosive hatred that ended with me screaming in a fire. A sharp, stabbing pain twisted in my gut. The delicate clinking of glasses around me was a tormenting echo, and I couldn’t stop it. A wave of nausea hit me so hard I doubled over, gagging. Julian froze. Evelyn, however, rushed over, her face a mask of disgust. “What is wrong with you? Can you not even handle appetizers without making a scene? If I knew the first thing about catering, this job wouldn’t have fallen to you in the first place!” “You’re useless,” she hissed. “Just hurry up and don’t ruin the mood for everyone.” Julian shot me a look of contempt before turning a charming smile on Evelyn. “Evelyn, darling, I can handle this. Let me.” A blush crept up her cheeks. “Absolutely not,” she cooed, her voice soft. “Your hands are for painting, Julian. They shouldn’t be wasted on menial tasks. You go relax. There’s only one tray left. We’ll let him finish it. Come on.” She gently pushed him back toward the crowd, but not before throwing a final, cutting remark over her shoulder at me. “I know you donated part of your liver, Liam, but can you stop using it as an excuse to be so fragile all the time? It’s not like it affects your ability to arrange shrimp on a platter. Honestly.” The chatter in the gallery died down as our friends glanced over, their eyes filled with pity. I ignored them all, a flash of agony tightening my chest. I watched Evelyn laughing with Julian, my expression hardening into a cold, clear resolve. I am alive again. And this time, I will not be the collateral damage of their love story. Slowly, I straightened up, finished the last of the appetizers, and carried the tray out. Most of the guests were Evelyn’s friends; they all knew the epic saga of her and Julian. One of them pointed at the cartoon Band-Aid on the back of Julian’s hand. “No way, man,” he laughed. “You nicked yourself on an easel and you’re wearing that?” Julian shot a pointed look in my direction. “I’ve got someone who worries about me. Even the smallest scratch, and she can’t help but care.” He then turned to me, his face a caricature of apology. “Sorry, Liam. No offense intended. But I guess with you missing half an organ, Evelyn’s got bigger things to worry about.” I sat down, my voice flat and cold. “I’m missing part of my liver because I love Evelyn. Unlike you, who, when she needed a donor, bolted for the hills faster than anyone I’ve ever seen.” “How dare you twist it like that?” Julian snapped, his face contorting as if I’d stomped on his foot. He immediately turned to Evelyn, his eyes red and welling with tears. “Evelyn, you know why I had to leave! My cousin was in an accident overseas. I had to go, otherwise I would have stayed by your side through everything. He never would have had the chance.” He choked back a sob. “If I had known you’d marry him just for a piece of his liver, I never would have left. God, I… I’ve regretted it every single day.” The mood in the room shifted. Everyone exchanged uncertain glances. Evelyn’s eyes filled with tears of pure, unadulterated emotion. I watched them from the sidelines, my heart a placid lake. A bitter laugh almost escaped my lips. I’d given her a vital part of myself, and I’d never seen this much emotion from her. Julian says he regrets leaving, and she looks at him like he hung the moon. How could I have been so stupid in my last life? How could I have ever believed my devotion could win her heart? Suddenly, Julian’s act reached its crescendo. He crumpled to the floor, his body twitching faintly, a bit of white foam appearing at the corner of his mouth. Evelyn shrieked, dropping to her knees and pulling him into her arms. “Julian! What’s happening? Don’t scare me!” she cried, her voice trembling with panic. Gasping for air, Julian managed to speak, his voice weak. “It’s nothing… an old problem. Side effect from the sleeping pills. These last two years… I was so worried about you, I couldn’t sleep. They were the only thing that got me through.” He looked past her, his gaze locking with mine. “Liam thinks I did this on purpose. But I didn’t. It’s always been you, Evelyn. It’s always been you in my heart.” He took another shaky breath. “I just hope… even after you’re married, we can still be close. If you’ve misunderstood my feelings… I’d rather just die right now.” Evelyn bought it hook, line, and sinker. She began to sob uncontrollably. “Oh, Julian, you idiot! Of course, I believe you! You don’t have to prove anything to me like this.” She clutched his hand tightly. “And it doesn’t matter if I’m married or not. Nothing will ever change how I feel about you. No one can ever change that!” A faint, tragic smile touched Julian’s lips. “As long as you know that, I can rest easy.” With that, he passed out. Just before his eyes fluttered shut, I caught a flicker of a triumphant, sly smirk on his face. Evelyn fumbled for her phone, frantically dialing 911. Only then did she finally look at me, her eyes burning with pure hatred. “I already agreed to marry you, Liam! Why did you have to say those things to him?” she hissed. “If anything happens to Julian because of you, I swear, I will make you regret it for the rest of your life!” 2 Her furious expression sent a phantom ache through my chest. Anyone in that room could see Julian was acting, but she was completely blind to it. Even one of her own friends couldn’t help but speak up. “Evelyn, if it wasn’t for Liam, who knows where you’d be right now. Besides, he really did leave you when you needed him most.” Evelyn’s rage only intensified. “All Liam did was donate a piece of his liver! That doesn’t give him the right to act so high and mighty!” I let out a soft, humorless laugh and glanced at the man playing dead on the floor. “Really? He loves you that much, but his cousin was more important than your life?” Her anger peaked. “That’s enough! I won’t let you say another bad word about him!” Seeing her, so utterly lost in her delusion, I saw a reflection of my past self. I remembered how I used to plead with her, trying to explain that I didn’t give her my liver as a bargaining chip for marriage. I did it because I loved her, and I hoped she would marry me because she loved me back. She agreed to marry me, yet she resented me for it, torturing me until my last breath. I was just as blind as she is now. Thank God that’s over. A small pang of regret hit me. If only I could have been reborn just a little bit earlier. I never would have given her the liver in the first place. The paramedics arrived quickly. Without a second thought, Evelyn jumped into the ambulance alongside them. The party was over. I spent the next few days recovering at home. And I spent some money. I hired an investigator to dig up everything there was to know about Julian Vance, especially what he’d been up to abroad for the past two years. It turned out Julian’s private life was as dramatic as a Hollywood blockbuster. Yet here he was, professing his undying love for Evelyn. Pathetic. I couldn’t wait to see the look on Evelyn’s face when she found out. But first, I had to make sure they were shackled together for good. That would be the best revenge. A flicker of anticipation sparked within me. A few days later, Evelyn stormed back into my apartment, her eyes blazing. “Liam, Julian almost died because of you! Even my father went to the hospital to see him. Aren’t you going to go and apologize?!” I pulled on a jacket, ready to go with her. On the way to the hospital, I looked at her exhausted face. She was clearly worn out from worry. I’d never seen her this concerned, not even when I was recovering from surgery. Julian fakes a fainting spell, and she’s a wreck. I couldn’t help but ask, “I’ve been so good to you. I gave you a piece of myself. Does all of that still not measure up to a single hair on Julian’s head?” Evelyn hesitated, then her face hardened with irritation. “No one compares to Julian. I won’t lie to you, Liam. I love him. Only him. We were childhood sweethearts. You can’t possibly compete with that.” She sighed. “But don’t worry. You saved my life, and I’ll keep my promise. I’ll marry you. I don’t want to disappoint my parents, and I don’t want people talking. When we get to the hospital, you will apologize to Julian properly. I don’t want him to be upset.” I looked at her determined expression and finally understood. It all made sense now. Why she hated me so much after Julian died. To her, Julian was everything. And I was just a doormat. When we arrived at the hospital, Julian was propped up in bed, tearfully recounting his years of longing for Evelyn to an older man sitting by his bedside—her father. As we walked in, his eyes immediately found Evelyn, and his expression softened into one of deep, soulful affection. “Evelyn, you’re here.” She gazed back at him, her own eyes filled with a matching tenderness. I ignored their silent exchange and turned to her father. “Sir, I need to discuss something with you. Could we step outside for a moment?” Mr. Monroe nodded, but as we headed for the door, Evelyn blocked our path, her face flushed with anger. “Liam, are you trying to tattle on me to my dad? If you have a complaint about me and Julian, you can say it right here! You don’t have to be so sneaky!” “I have other things to discuss,” I said calmly. She clearly didn’t believe me. “I was harsh with you, and now you’re upset, I get it. But this is between us. Don’t drag Julian into it. He’s innocent! Just say what you have to say. I’m listening!” I looked at her father, then gestured toward Evelyn, who was glaring at me as if I were her sworn enemy. “Sir, you see it too. You see how deep Miss Monroe’s feelings for Mr. Vance are. I don’t want to be the villain in their story. I’m willing to step aside.” I took a breath and delivered the final blow. “The engagement… I think we should call it off.”

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My new aroma diffuser was acting up. The mist it puffed out had a faint, milky scent. I complained about it offhandedly, and my husband, Taylor, replied without thinking, “Did you forget to use distilled water? That brand is finicky; it only works with distilled water.” I froze. I’d bought the diffuser in secret, without telling him. How could he know its quirks so precisely? That weekend, I told him I had to work late. Using the GPS tracker in his car, I found my way to a high-end, luxury postnatal care center. I pushed open the door to one of the VIP suites. There, lying in bed, was my own sister, Sara. And on her nightstand was an identical aroma diffuser, puffing out the same milky-scented mist. And my husband, Taylor, was holding a newborn baby, expertly burping it, his eyes filled with a tenderness I’d never seen. 1. “Taylor,” I said, my voice conversational as I leaned against the doorframe of the VIP suite. “You look like a natural holding a baby.” Taylor’s body went rigid. The tiny, wrinkled infant in his arms seemed to sense his tension and let out a soft whimper. In the bed, Sara’s face drained of all color. “Soph… Sophia. What are you doing here?” I ignored her, my gaze locked on Taylor. He turned slowly, forcing a smile that was more painful than a grimace. “Honey… you have to let me explain.” “Explain what?” I walked into the room, the sharp click of my heels echoing on the polished floor. “Explain why you’re here, holding a newborn? Or explain why the mother of this child is my dear sister?” I walked to the bedside and looked at the diffuser on the nightstand, a perfect match to the one in our home. White mist curled into the air, carrying that cloyingly sweet, familiar scent. “Or maybe,” I continued, my voice dangerously soft, “you can explain to me how you know so much about this particular brand of diffuser.” Taylor’s lips trembled, but no words came out. Sara struggled to sit up, tears already streaming down her face like broken pearls. “Sophia, it’s not his fault! It’s all my fault!” she sobbed. “I… I love him! I couldn’t help myself!” She cried so beautifully, a portrait of tragic love. What a classic line. Her words seemed to give Taylor courage. He finally found his voice. “Sophia, it’s come to this. I don’t want to hide it from you anymore. I love Sara. We’re in love. This baby is the proof of our love.” I looked at him, and then I laughed. “In love?” I said. “Taylor, you drive the car I bought you, you live in the house I paid for in full, and you draw a handsome salary from my company. And now, you’re standing here, holding the child you had with my sister, telling me you’re in love? Your capacity for love is truly boundless.” My calmness seemed to enrage him. “What would you know about it?” he snarled. “You’re always so high and mighty! Have you ever once cared about me? All you care about is your work, your company! Sara is different. She’s gentle, she’s considerate. She gives a man the respect and admiration he needs! She’s the one who can give me a real home!” I nodded, the smile on my face widening. “Well said. So that’s your excuse for betraying me and knocking up my sister? Taylor, you’re not just a scumbag. You’re a stupid one.” 2. At that, Sara’s sobs grew louder. “Sophia! Don’t talk to him like that! We’re truly in love! Please, I’m begging you, just let us be together!” Let them be together? The sheer shamelessness of it was almost comical. “Sara, how exactly do you propose I do that? Should I hand over my husband, my house, and my money, and then wish you two a long and happy life together? Did you mistake me for a saint?” Taylor carefully placed the baby in the bassinet and stood before me. The panic in his eyes was gone, replaced by the brazen confidence of a man with nothing left to lose. “Sophia, let’s talk,” he said. “Now that you know, there’s no point in making a scene. It’ll just make things uglier for everyone.” “A scene?” I raised an eyebrow. “Am I making a scene? I just came to visit my sister after she’s given birth, and to meet the man she’s so ‘deeply in love’ with.” Taylor’s face darkened. “Sara just had a baby. She’s weak. Don’t upset her. Just name your price. Whatever compensation you want, I’ll give it to you if I can.” I glanced around the opulent VIP suite, which cost tens of thousands a month. I noted the Patek Philippe on Sara’s wrist; I’d seen the six-figure receipt for it. “Compensation? What could you possibly offer me? Taylor, the clothes on your back, the watch on your wrist—which of those did I not give you? Are you planning to compensate me with my own money?” He was speechless. From the bed, Sara piped up. “Sophia, is money really that important? You already have so much. Why can’t you share a little bit of your happiness with me? I was always sick as a child, so Mom and Dad always doted on me more. You’re used to it, aren’t you? This time… just let me have this one. Can’t you?” She said it so naturally, so matter-of-factly. As if it was my birthright to yield to her, to hand over everything I had. Then Taylor spoke, and his words were like a bucket of ice water poured over my head. “Sophia, Sara’s right. Just take pity on us. The child is innocent. If you agree to a divorce and voluntarily waive your claim to our marital assets, I’ll be willing to let this go. We can still be family.” Let this go? Did I hear him correctly? He was the one who cheated, and now he was offering to forgive me? “Taylor, did a horse kick you in the head?” He seemed taken aback by my response. “Sophia, don’t push it! Do you think I’m still the same broke loser I was three years ago? I’ve worked at your company for three years! I’ve earned my keep! Half of those assets are legally mine anyway! I’m only asking you to give up your half. That’s the most generous offer you’re going to get!” I looked at this shameless pair and suddenly felt that getting angry at them was a waste of my life. I took out my phone and calmly made a call. “Dad, Mom. I need you to come to Metropolis General right away. Your wonderful daughter just gave me a nephew.” 3. My parents arrived quickly. When they burst through the door and saw a weakened Sara in the bed and Taylor standing beside her, my mother’s tears started instantly. She rushed over and grabbed Sara’s hand. “Sara! My poor, foolish girl! How could you be so reckless!” My father glared at Taylor, his lips trembling with rage. “Taylor! You animal! How did our family ever wrong you?” Taylor hung his head, adopting the posture of a man ready to accept any punishment. Sara began to sob. “Dad, Mom, I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault. I love him. I truly can’t live without him. Blame me, don’t blame him.” She coughed weakly between sobs, looking as if she might faint at any moment. My mother’s heart immediately went out to her. She turned and glared at me. “Sophia! What are you just standing there for? Look at the state your sister is in! Are you trying to kill her with stress?” I watched this farce with cold eyes. “Mom, let’s be clear. I’m the one who was cheated on, not her. What does she have to be upset about? She’s the winner here.” “You!” my mother sputtered, pointing at me. “How can you talk to your sister like that? She’s your own flesh and blood! Can’t you just give in to her for once? The baby is already here, what more do you want?” My father sighed, his tone softening. “Sophia, your mother is right. What’s done is done. We need to find a solution. Taylor made a mistake, but for the baby’s sake…” I cut him off. “Dad, are you asking me to be the fool who pays for all of this? To accept my husband’s and my sister’s betrayal, and then raise their child? All because Sara has been weak and whiny since she was a child, so the entire world has to bow to her every whim?” A flicker of embarrassment crossed my father’s face. “That’s not what I meant…” “Then what did you mean?” Just then, Taylor spoke up. “Dad, Mom, don’t blame Sophia. This is mostly my fault.” With a thud, he dropped to his knees before my parents. “I’m not human! I betrayed your trust, and I betrayed Sophia! But my feelings for Sara are real! I beg you, please, let us be together!” That one move completely turned the tide. My mother rushed to help him up. “Oh, you silly boy, get up! The floor is cold!” She wiped her tears and looked at me, her eyes pleading. “Sophia, look, Taylor is already so remorseful. Men… they all have their moments of weakness. Can’t you just forgive him this one time? For the sake of a happy, peaceful family?” A happy family? I looked at the three of them—Taylor, Sara, and my mother—and the irony was suffocating. In their eyes, I was the outsider. Taylor and Sara exchanged a quick, triumphant glance. They knew they had won. As long as my biased parents were on their side, I could never win against them. Looking at them, the last shred of hope I had for this family withered and died. 4. Seeing that my parents were now firmly in his camp, Taylor grew bolder. He cleared his throat and revealed their true objective. “Dad, Mom, Sara and I have talked about this. We’re not asking for much. We just hope that Sophia, for the baby’s sake, can help us out.” My mother immediately took the bait. “How? Just tell us! We’ll do whatever we can!” “Sophia holds thirty percent of the company’s shares in her name, right?” Taylor’s eyes glinted with greed. “We were hoping… she could transfer those shares to the baby’s name. As a… gift for her nephew.” “What?” Even my father was shocked. “Thirty percent? Taylor, are you insane? That’s nearly half the company’s assets!” “Dad, how is that insane?” Sara said, her voice frail. “I’m thinking of Sophia’s well-being. It must be so exhausting for a woman to run such a big company all by herself. If Taylor manages the shares for her, she’ll have so much more free time to enjoy her life.” “Exactly, Dad,” Taylor chimed in. “And this is for the good of the family. I’ll run the company well. I guarantee I’ll take it to the next level!” They were a well-rehearsed duo, acting as if my shares were already theirs. My mother was actually hesitating, as if seriously considering their proposal. “Sophia, what do you think…” I looked at the faces of the people who were supposed to be my family—their greed, their bias, their foolishness all on clear display. And I laughed. Not a cold smirk or a scornful chuckle, but a genuine, heartfelt, liberating laugh. They were all stunned into silence. “What are you laughing at?” Taylor frowned. I stopped laughing and glanced at the time on my phone. Then I looked up at them and began to count down slowly. “Three.” “Two.” “One.” As the word left my lips, the suite door was thrown open. Several uniformed police officers and my lawyer, Miles Vance, strode into the room.

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