Category: English

The day my billionaire parents came to take me home, everyone in the village reluctantly saw me off. But as soon as I arrived at their house, they forced me to donate bone marrow to my sister, Claire. I yanked out Claire’s oxygen tube in response. Seeing this, my parents locked me in a room to “reflect.” That night, while they slept, I climbed out the window and turned on the gas before leaving. Unfortunately, I was caught red-handed. Unable to tolerate me any longer, they blindfolded me, packaged me up, and dumped me in the infamous Outlaw Village. As soon as we arrived at the village entrance, my dad immediately threatened me: “Everyone here is a criminal. A kid like you won’t even have bones left after three days.” My mom pretended to persuade me: “Vivian, if you donate the bone marrow, you’ll still be our precious daughter. But in a place like this, you’ll die here.” I stubbornly shook my head. My mom’s fury peaked. She ripped off my blindfold and shoved me to the ground. I looked at everything familiar before my eyes. Why didn’t anyone tell me that the village I’d lived in for twenty years was called Outlaw Village?

I looked up at Uncle Sam, the village chief not far away, my eyes lighting up. I wanted to speak but couldn’t make a sound. I only felt my cheeks burning with pain. My mom leaned against the car door with a satisfied smile. “A new product from the company. It’ll keep you quiet for a while.” My dad added his threats from the side: “Behave yourself sooner rather than later, or you’ll regret it.” I curled my lip in a cold smile. Hmph! It was only because they couldn’t force me. Every time they tried to drug me or drag me to the hospital, I turned the tables on them. Plus, they were important people who cared about their reputation. I was different. If they dared to touch a hair on my head, I’d kill them. Seeing my silence, my dad pulled out a video and shoved it in my face. He gripped my chin, forcing me to watch the content. “Think carefully. If you don’t agree, you’ll have a spot in there.” Looking at a group of people lying in a pigsty, stuffing rotten fish and shrimp into their mouths from the manure pit, I rolled my eyes. Idiots. The one person I’d never fear was Uncle Sam. When did he develop a hobby of keeping people like pigs though? Uncle Sam dealt with human traffickers like these every year. At first, I thought I’d been abducted by them too. Day and night, I prayed for God to tell my biological parents to come take me home. But gradually, I realized the uncles and aunts in the village were all very kind to me. Slowly, I let go of that hope. But when news came from my biological parents, my heart couldn’t help but skip a beat. Mom and Dad should be different from the uncles and aunts, right? So I caught the earliest train before dawn to meet them. But now it seemed these parents were better off dead. I pressed my lips together, butted my head forward, and knocked the phone away. I struggled to my feet and ran toward Uncle Sam. My dad’s last bit of composure vanished. He grabbed my hair and yanked me back. Furious, he raised his hand and slapped my face several times. “I see you won’t cry until you see your coffin.” I was beaten until I saw stars, collapsing limply to the ground. Blood trickled down from my nose. He immediately let go in disgust, hurriedly pulling out a handkerchief to wipe the blood from his hands. Seeing this, my mom raised her hand to check her watch. She tugged at his sleeve. Not to plead for me, but to tell my dad to hurry up. “Claire needs to take her medicine soon. If we’re not there, she’ll throw a tantrum.” My dad glared at me, the muscles on his face taut. “Claire can’t stand the smell of blood, and this disaster deliberately got it on me.” “If she wasn’t still useful, I’d really want to lock her in this village forever.” Watching their careful, anxious manner, and the natural tenderness in their eyes when they mentioned Claire—if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I would have thought that in my memories, Mom and Dad would treat me the same way. That they’d see me as precious, worry about me being sick and not taking my medicine properly. My mom stared at the tears flowing from the corners of my eyes and paused. Then she frowned: “So ugly. If it weren’t for the paternity test, I’d really doubt whether I gave birth to her.” “Darling, hurry up and deal with her. I really don’t want to stay in this godforsaken place for even one more second.” My dad nodded and pulled out an iron rod from the back seat. He grabbed my collar and dragged me dozens of meters, tossing me aside like garbage. Then he aimed at my right leg and smashed down. As he prepared to strike a second time, I whimpered and cried, crawling toward Uncle Sam who had walked over. He stared at me, a trace of reluctance showing in his eyes. “This must be the person sent here to learn obedience.” “That’s enough. Leave her to me to handle.”

My dad dropped the iron rod and pulled a bag of cash from the car, tossing it on the ground. He glanced at me dragging my broken leg, desperately trying to escape. With a fake smile, he said: “This time is different. We’ll stay to supervise personally.” My mom, who had been about to leave, paused at these words. But when it involved Claire, she nodded without hesitation. “That’s right. Claire’s bone marrow bank can’t have any mistakes.” Ha, bone marrow bank. In the end, in her eyes, I wasn’t even human. I no longer held any hope for them. My hand tightly gripped Uncle Sam’s pant leg as I hummed the lullaby he’d sung to me since childhood. But the burning pain in my throat made even breathing difficult. Uncle Sam looked at me questioningly. As he was about to crouch down to examine my disfigured face more closely, my dad spoke up. “I remember there’s a butcher in the village, a dissection expert who personally killed and dismembered his own wife?” “Call him over. I’ve got merchandise.” “The feeling of slicing off flesh bit by bit without killing someone must be quite something.” As he spoke, his gaze fell on me. He smiled cruelly. As if certain I’d be scared into obediently going back. I gave him a look like he was an idiot. The Mr. Baker he mentioned did indeed have good knife skills, but he was also extremely protective of his own. When I was little and lost a fight with kids from the neighboring village, he went straight to their house and dealt with the whole family. If he recognized me here, they’d suffer worse than death. Seeing I was unmoved, my dad stepped forward and stomped on my injured leg, constantly applying pressure, his face twisted. “I want to see just how stubborn you are.” My mom beside him held up her phone, signaling to keep the noise down. “Claire wants you to answer the phone. Don’t let her know…” My dad picked up a dirty cloth nearby and stuffed it in my mouth, then answered the phone with a face full of affection. “Sweetheart, have you been good and taken your medicine like the doctor said?” “I’m taking your sister on an overseas trip right now. It’s not convenient for her to answer the phone.” “Don’t worry, you’re the child Daddy and Mommy love most…” Crying could be faintly heard from the other end of the phone. My parents immediately panicked, coaxing her as they walked outside. Taking advantage of the dim light, I gritted my teeth. I pressed the exposed bone fragment back into the flesh, rolling on the ground in pain. Uncle Sam looked at me with heartache and brought over crushed herbal medicine. He applied it to the wound and reluctantly opened his mouth. “Child, don’t blame me. The children in the village need money for school.” Tears streamed down my face as I whimpered and raised my hand to point at myself. Vivian, I’m Vivian! Uncle Sam froze. “Child, what are you trying to say?” I dipped my finger in the herbal juice, preparing to write on the wall. But the cellar door was suddenly pulled open. My parents walked in holding their phone, all smiles. They were discussing taking Claire for Japanese food on the weekend. “Claire loves king crab. You’d better perform well then.” My dad smiled from ear to ear. “Don’t worry, honey, I already made a reservation.” “After we eat, we’ll take Claire to see the new movie.” Claire’s bell-like laughter came through the phone. The family of three’s atmosphere was incomparably warm.

I hadn’t eaten in a day and a night and was now ravenous. Noticing my small movements of swallowing and covering my stomach, my mom’s smile remained, but her eyes gradually turned cold. She scooped out a ladle of slop from the swill bucket in the corner and poured it in front of me. “Eat. You were born to be lowly.” “Can’t let you actually starve to death. What would happen to Claire then?” The foul smell rushed straight into my nostrils. My vision darkened as I lay on the ground, struggling to breathe. Uncle Sam murmured: “How is this food for humans?” My mom looked down at him imperiously and glanced at him coldly. “Mind your own business.” I don’t know how much time passed before the door was pulled open. Mr. Baker walked in, his whole body reeking of blood from years of butchering pigs. He habitually stroked his beard and looked at me coldly. He coldly rebuked my parents behind him: “A girl like this isn’t worth my effort. Too embarrassing. I’m not doing it.” With that, he picked up his boning knife and was about to leave. But after just a few steps, my mom stopped him. “Don’t want the money anymore?” Mr. Baker’s face turned ashen. He glared at my mom. Muttering curses under his breath, he roughly drove everyone out of the cellar. “I don’t like people watching when I work. Get out, get out, get out.” He took a puff of his pipe and looked at me earnestly: “Child, I don’t want to hurt you.” “You look about the same age as a child who left our village. Just agree to whatever they’re asking you to do.” I shook my head desperately with my hoarse voice, tears streaming down my face. Mr. Baker had always been good to me since I was little. Though he was a butcher, he loved reading and writing. I learned to read and write from him. Thinking of this, I slowly moved my blood-stained fingertip across the ground. But under the severe pain, my whole body trembled and my hand spasmed, turning each stroke into illegible scribbles. Mr. Baker sighed: “Girl, I can’t understand what you’re writing.” “Can you speak?” I shook my head, gasping nervously. If I missed this opportunity, it would truly be over. What else could prove my identity? I wracked my brain. Right, the birthmark! I had a crescent-shaped birthmark on my forearm that everyone in the village knew about. I was ecstatic and struggled to bite and tear at the cloth binding my hands. As long as he saw the birthmark, Mr. Baker would recognize my identity immediately. Perceiving my intention, Mr. Baker put down his pipe and walked over. Just as I was about to roll up my sleeve, my dad pushed the door open and entered. His gaze fell on my untied hands. His face darkened. “What’s the meaning of this?” I whimpered desperately, growling to get Mr. Baker to look at me. My mom immediately spotted the crooked bloody writing on the ground. Her face changed dramatically as she drove him out. I watched helplessly as Uncle Sam left with Mr. Baker, then a slap came flying. The scratch from her long nails burned painfully on my cheek. My mom snorted coldly: “This damn girl is trying to send messages to others.” My dad said nothing. He took down a hammer from the wall. He pressed me down forcefully and smashed my fingers one by one right in front of me. “This is what happens when you don’t behave.”

I screamed and bit down hard on his hand. I was determined to tear off a piece of flesh. My dad cried out in pain and struck my head heavily on the spot. Seeing me bleeding from the head, collapsed on the ground, my mom panicked and rushed forward to check my condition. She glanced at my dad with displeasure. “Honey, you’ve beaten her to death! What about Claire!” My dad took the opportunity to kick me several times. He pulled out a handkerchief to press on his bleeding wound and cursed: “Don’t worry, a disaster like her won’t die.” I bloodthirstily curved my lips. With blood all over my face, I stared straight at him, grinding my teeth like a wolf in challenge. So yeah, don’t let me catch an opportunity. Otherwise, you won’t even know how you died. This action clearly infuriated my dad. “Looks like you still haven’t learned.” He sneered, picked up the rope from the ground, and looped it around my neck. He knocked out my entire right molar. Just as he was about to knock out the second one, the door was pushed open. A delicate figure emerged from behind Uncle Sam. Seeing who it was, my dad hurriedly released me. He blocked me behind him, afraid the blood would dirty Claire’s eyes. My mom was both surprised and delighted, stepping forward to pull her outside. “Claire, how did you get here?” “Come out with Mom. It’s too dirty here, bad for your condition.” Claire had a smile on her pale face. She shook her head and released my mom’s hand. She walked up to me, tears rolling down in large drops. “Vivian, it must hurt a lot.” “If you just behave, you won’t have to suffer. Mom and Dad really do like you.” “Once I get better, we can study together, go to school together…” My gaze grew cold. Looking at her face barely concealing a smile, I spat a mouthful of bloody saliva on Claire’s face. Hmph, in your dreams. Going through all this trouble to send me here and torture me in every way—it was nothing more than to make me voluntarily become Claire’s mobile organ bank. Everyone knew she had a rare disease and needed organ replacements periodically as they failed. She wiped her face while screaming and falling to the ground. My dad kicked me over with one foot. My mom picked up scissors, about to cut off my mouth. Seeing this, Claire quickly grabbed them both. A flash of viciousness crossed her angelic face. “Mom, Dad, don’t blame Vivian. I can understand if she’s unwilling.” “Maybe if we change methods, Vivian will agree.” Hearing this, joy spread across my mom’s face. She quickly grabbed her. “Claire, really?” Claire nodded, her gaze falling on my lower abdomen. A meaningful smile appeared. “The attending physician said that as long as it’s direct bloodline, it can save me.” I froze in place. The next second, my dad called over Uncle Sam. Pointing at me on the ground, he said coldly: “Call all the men in your village, regardless of age. As long as she gets pregnant within a year, that money still counts.” Uncle Sam looked at me gasping on the ground. He looked away and nodded. Soon, I was married off by lottery to the village watchman. A lame man with Down syndrome. The night before I was sent to the old house, Uncle Sam came in. Looking at me tied up like a dumpling, he silently rolled up my sleeve. Seeing the scalded wound where the birthmark had been, he shook his head: “I was so confused. How could it possibly be Vivian?” I watched his retreating figure in despair. Claire walked in, arms crossed, looking at me with a cold laugh. “You didn’t really think you could escape, did you?” “Still wanting to use the birthmark to get someone to pass on a message.” “Don’t worry. For the rest of your life, even in death, you can only die here.” Early the next morning, I was carried to the groom’s home with my face veiled. Claire suggested removing my veil and having me kiss the groom publicly. The moment it was removed, the foolish groom before me paused, clapping his thick, stubby hands. Drooling, he looked at me and laughed happily: “Vivian, the bride is Vivian.”

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Everyone in high society knew that the cold-hearted billionaire Jackson had given up on his childhood friend he’d waited seven years for and started dating. More importantly, his new girlfriend was disabled, with only one eye. When Jackson brought me to my first charity gala, everyone was startled by my purple cosmetic prosthetic eye. But Jackson pulled me into his arms. “She became like this to save me. If any of you say one more word, you’re making an enemy of me.” I looked up at him with complete dependence while others retreated awkwardly. Then suddenly, a gentle female voice came from behind me. “Is that Jackson? Long time no see.” The body holding me instantly tensed up, and even his heartbeat accelerated. I suddenly understood—this was his childhood friend, the one he loved but couldn’t have. Jackson’s arms around me recoiled as if shocked, and the usually cold man actually started stuttering. “You—you’re not in Australia?” The woman paused, then smiled. “I missed you, so I came back.” My heart trembled and clenched tightly. Fortunately, Jackson frowned. “Aren’t you in a relationship? What are you talking about?” The woman laughed. “We have twenty years of history. Fate brought us together before we were even born. Between friends, can’t I miss you?” Jackson seemed to remember something, his expression shifting slightly as he took half a step forward, creating distance between us. “Violet, you’ve been gone so many years, I thought you—” Violet tilted her head, interrupting him. “Jackson, is this your girlfriend? Her eye—” Jackson snapped back to attention and grabbed my arm, yanking me behind him. Pulled by the sudden force, I lost my balance and ended up kneeling solidly behind him. Laughter erupted around us. Jackson didn’t notice my reaction at all, only explaining on his own. “Don’t misunderstand. She’s disabled. I’m only taking responsibility because her parents entrusted her to me—I pity her!” I sat collapsed on the ground, looking up at him helplessly. Just a responsibility? What about the man who felt sorry for my altitude sickness on the snowy mountain and gave me his only oxygen canister despite his own pale face? What about the man who proposed to me on one knee at sunset, who rented a luxury cruise ship on the ocean to celebrate my birthday? What about the man who loved everything about me, who once took care of all the work for my parents and friends? Was I really just a responsibility to him? Violet ruffled his hair like she used to. “I understand. Our Jackson has always had the softest heart.” “The auction is about to start. I’ll head over first. You bring your… girlfriend and come sit down too.” Violet, wearing a gilded gown, walked away with extraordinary grace. Only then did Jackson remember I was still sitting on the ground. He reached out and pulled me up, full of apology. “Amy, let me explain…” I nodded. “Go ahead, explain.” Jackson opened and closed his mouth. “I’ve known Violet for so many years. She found a boyfriend who’s an heir to a multinational corporation, but I… Amy, you understand, right?” His cautious manner was completely different from when he held me in his arms earlier, telling everyone “don’t mock me.” I couldn’t help wondering if coming here with him today was the right choice. People surged around us, but I couldn’t hear a word. Jackson’s mouth opened and closed, finally turning into a sigh. Violet’s voice came again. “Jackson, the auction is starting. Come sit.” Jackson squeezed my wrist. “Be good. She’s an outsider, you’re family. When we get home tonight, I’ll apologize.” “I did my research before coming. I promised you that jade piece that can be used as an eye massager. You need to take care of your eye more so it doesn’t atrophy.”

Jackson pulled me into the venue, but looking left and right, there was no seat for me. Jackson’s expression soured as he raised his hand, about to call a waiter, when Violet’s pale hand pressed down on his and pulled it back. Violet smiled gently. “Jackson, I switched the seats. We haven’t seen each other in so many years—I have so much I want to say to you. My seat is over there. Could this young lady sit there instead?” I keenly noticed Jackson’s gaze fixed on their intertwined hands, his eyes filled with deep joy. Having been with him this long, I’d heard about their history. Simply put, Violet kept Jackson as a backup. When she had a boyfriend, she wouldn’t say a word to him for a year or two. When she didn’t have a boyfriend, she’d occasionally have physical contact with him but never cross that line. And now, this was just a woman’s sense of crisis. After all, her former lapdog was dating someone—how could she feel good about that? So little favors like holding hands, getting close, hugging—Violet was now giving these to Jackson. Violet shook his hand twice, and Jackson immediately came back to his senses, looking at me apologetically. “Amy, go sit over there. We don’t get to see each other often, okay?” I remained unmoved, my feet rooted to the spot. Jackson shook off my hand, tightening his grip on Violet’s hand. “Amy, are my words meaningless now? Don’t make me say it twice!” He pulled Violet toward the front row. Violet looked back at me with an apologetic smile, her eyes full of smugness. Only when the waiter impatiently reminded me to take my seat did I react, slowly walking to the corner seat. I didn’t know if it was psychological or what, but my prosthetic eye hurt terribly, sore and swollen. In the darkness, I secretly removed it, leaving only one eye to watch them. Throughout the entire auction, the two of them had their heads together, whispering about who knows what. Jackson didn’t give me a single glance. Not until that jade piece appeared did the atmosphere reach a small climax. This thing wasn’t rare, just natural, polished by a master, and hyped up by these people, so naturally its value soared. After several rounds of bidding, it had been driven up to 3 million. Jackson lightly raised his hand. “Ten million. Stop bidding, I’ll take it.” Everyone was shocked by his big gesture. The thing was valuable, but not worth ten million. The waiter was thrilled and immediately handed the jade to him. Under everyone’s gaze, Jackson held the velvet box and slowly walked toward me. The camera followed Jackson’s steps, projecting onto the big screen. The spotlight timely shone on me. Jackson knelt on one knee, holding up the jade. “Amy, I—” His words didn’t finish, but his smile froze on his face.

I was somewhat bewildered. Not until gasps arose around me did I realize I’d forgotten to put in my prosthetic eye. I immediately lowered my head, even though the bright light made me tear up. But my body was bumped by someone, and the purple prosthetic eye in my hand rolled to the ground. Violet, who had rushed over, screamed and threw herself into Jackson’s arms in fright. “Jackson, the eyeball, the eyeball!” Jackson immediately stuffed the jade into his pocket, scooped Violet up in a princess carry, and walked away. Everyone whispered. “My God, did you see that? She actually has a fake eye!” “So terrifying, her eyelid is tightly shut. I’ve never seen someone like this before—I’ll definitely have nightmares tonight!” “Didn’t Mr. Jackson say she saved him? I think she’s just exploiting his gratitude! She probably figured she couldn’t get married in the future so she latched onto Mr. Jackson!” Mocking voices filled the auction hall. Those with small courage didn’t dare look at me, while the bold ones kicked my prosthetic eye around like a football. Not until the waiter who had told me to find my seat roughly yanked me up from my chair, yelling at me to get lost, did I come to my senses. My face burned as if I’d been slapped. I didn’t even grab my shawl before turning and running. The auction was held in a villa on a mountaintop in the suburbs. Without a car, I couldn’t get back at all. After running two miles, because I couldn’t see on one side, my heel accidentally got stuck in the mud and I fell into a mud pit. Holding back tears, I dialed Jackson’s number. The phone rang for dozens of seconds before being answered just as I was about to hang up. His lazy voice came through. “What is it?” I choked out. “Please, come pick me up. Everyone mocked me, I fell…” Jackson’s voice tightened. “You fell? Where are you?” But Violet’s voice came through the phone. “Jackson, I drank too much at the party and my head hurts terribly. My dad told you to take care of me—you wouldn’t abandon me for a woman, would you?” Jackson was silent for a moment. “I’ll transfer you money. Take a cab home. I’ll come see you first thing tomorrow morning.” “Amy, you went too far. How could you take out your eye at such an important occasion?” “Do you know that Violet is timid? She’s even afraid of walking at night. Now she stepped on your eyeball—you really scared her to death!” With that, he hung up and transferred me 100 dollars. But he didn’t think about the fact that this was a villa area halfway up the mountain. Apart from people specifically coming to the gala, where would I find a cab? Cold and in pain, I tried to curl myself into a ball, leaning against a tree trunk and falling asleep. The night dew was heavy. I was woken by the cold several times. But each time I checked my phone, there was no call from Jackson. Not until the next morning, when I saw a taxi that had just dropped off passengers at the villa area, did I rush out from the darkness and block the car. My hair covered my face, and only the mottled stains on my clothes could be seen. The taxi driver was startled. “Damn, are you trying to die?” I said carefully. “I’m sorry, I got lost and slept outside all night. Please take me home. I’ll pay you double, okay…” The taxi driver looked at me and counted on his fingers. “Fare is 300, car wash fee 500, emotional distress fee 200. If that works, let’s go.” I nodded and pulled open the car door to get in. The car sped all the way to the home Jackson and I shared. I paid 1,000 before getting out of the car. The moment my finger touched the handle, the fingerprint recognition opened the door. What greeted me was a pair of familiar golden high heels, and Jackson’s shoes beside them.

I trembled as I pushed open the bedroom door. Violet was wearing my camisole nightgown, her white back exposed as she slept on her stomach on the bed. Although Jackson was sleeping beside her in pajamas, his hand rested on her hair, unconsciously stroking it. I was furious. “You cheaters!” The two woke with a start, shocked to see me like this. Especially Violet—she screamed. “A ghost!” Jackson got out of bed barefoot and ran to my side. “Amy, what—how are you just getting back now? What happened last night? Didn’t I tell you to take a cab home?” He anxiously turned me left and right. When his gaze landed on my swollen ankle and angry eyes, he looked away. “You—you misunderstood. We just lay down together, like when we were kids. We didn’t do anything!” I laughed coldly. “A man and woman alone in one bed, and she’s wearing my clothes—you’re saying nothing happened? Violet, don’t you have a boyfriend? Why are you here disrupting our lives! You homewrecker…” Before I finished, a crisp slap landed on my face. Jackson stared at his palm in horror. “I’m sorry Amy, I didn’t mean to—I just can’t stand—” Violet smiled. “I didn’t expect it, Jackson. After all these years, you’re still the same—when you hear someone insult me, you automatically step in to defend me. I didn’t care about you for nothing!” “One-eyed lady, I think you misunderstood. Jackson and I have known each other for twenty years. If I had any designs on him, would it be your turn?” I covered my face as scalding tears poured out. “Jackson, we’re breaking up! I want to break up with you!” Jackson grabbed me tightly. “No! I already apologized—what more do you want! How about you hit me back!” As he spoke, he grabbed my hand and swung it toward his face. Before it could touch his face, Violet spoke. “Jackson, I don’t have time to watch you two lovebirds. Smith called me—I need to go. You two take care!” With that, she took off her nightgown right in front of us, naked, and bent down to pick up her underwear from the side. Jackson and I froze on the spot. I could clearly feel Jackson’s body tense, his lower body hard as iron. The body holding me was burning hot, but I was ice cold inch by inch. How ridiculous. My boyfriend got physically aroused looking at another woman. As Violet passed us, she smiled at Jackson’s lower body. “I didn’t realize, Jackson—you really don’t show it! You’re not inferior to foreign men at all.” Jackson’s face turned bright red. I chased after her, only to see her pick up the jade Jackson had bought at a high price last night and put it in her bag. I shouted. “Put it down—that’s mine!” Violet raised an eyebrow. “Yours? What’s yours? To be blunt, even your man is mine.” “Oh, I forgot to tell you—my Maltese’s birthday is next month. The collar is missing a piece of jade exactly this size, so Jackson gave it to me.” With that, she opened the door and left. I’d just finished processing her words, trembling all over. “Didn’t you say that was for me?” Jackson looked away. “I have money. I can buy you another one like that. Violet begged me for half the night saying she wanted it. Amy, you’re the most sensible, right?” I curved my lips. “Begged you? How did she beg? On her knees? Or with her body?” Jackson’s face darkened. “Amy, you can’t talk about Violet like that. We’re innocent.” Looking at him, I suddenly felt very tired. “Jackson, I’m serious. Let’s break up.” “Before yesterday, I always thought you loved me. But not anymore. You love yourself, you love Violet, you love face—you just don’t love me.” “I saved you that year simply because you were you, not because of your family background. I didn’t expect anything from you—you were the one who said you wanted to be with me.” “Jackson, go explain to them that I didn’t exploit your gratitude, that I didn’t latch onto you, that I’m not desperate for you.” “Jackson, I’m really tired.”

Seeing my serious expression, Jackson’s breathing hitched. He threw down a black card and rushed out the door. “Amy, we both need to calm down. I’m leaving first. I’ll come find you in a couple days.” The door slammed shut. I lost all strength, slowly sliding down against the door frame, crying my heart out. After crying myself out, I started packing. Though this was supposedly Jackson’s and my home, there really wasn’t much that belonged to me. Barely one suitcase was enough to hold everything. He’d bought me a lot of clothes, food, and daily necessities. But I always felt they weren’t mine, that using them made me uneasy, so they were all sealed in a small cabinet, untouched. After washing up, I sat at the vanity, staring at the woman in the mirror for a long time. My left eyelid was tightly shut, my right eye was swollen red like a walnut from crying, and a bright red handprint marked my face. Anyone who saw this would call it a ghost. I took a deep breath and opened the vanity drawer. It was full of various prosthetic eyes Jackson had bought me, 108 of them in total. When he bought them, he looked at me with a smile full of tenderness. “My wife, so what if you can’t see with one eye? That’s your badge of love for me, and I cherish it.” “From now on, I’ll buy you all kinds of colors and styles. Your eye deserves to hold the sun, moon, and stars—it shouldn’t be confined to plain black.” I reached out to touch the red one—the first eye he bought me, red, with a bit of straight-guy aesthetic. Then I touched the green one—back then he smiled and told me we’d cosplay Hatsune Miku someday. Then the gem purple one, the same as the one I lost yesterday. I loved purple, so he bought me a dozen. The person who used to stroke my hair and praise my left eye like a rainbow. Now he looked at me with disgust, finding my tightly shut eyelid revolting, blaming me for embarrassing him. I took one last look at those prosthetic eyes and closed the drawer. Before leaving, I exported the bedroom surveillance footage, captured screenshots of Violet walking around my house naked with a light mosaic, and posted it online. [My boyfriend Jackson’s childhood friend Violet used being drunk as an excuse to wear my nightgown and sleep in my bed in my house, then said I was overthinking it. Is this my fault?] After posting, I logged out of the account and turned off the computer. The post named names and showed faces. I didn’t believe they could suppress it completely. Perhaps even Jackson himself didn’t remember. The surveillance he installed so I could see clearly with my bad eye had become the final straw that broke them. I bought a ticket on the next flight to Miami. I left the organized keys, bank cards, and a guarantee letter Jackson had personally written to show his loyalty on the entrance table. I left without looking back, without a trace of attachment. The moment I closed the door, the landline behind me suddenly rang with Jackson’s voice. “Amy, answer the phone!!” Only he knew the home phone number. Anyone could guess who was calling. I curved my lips and forcefully shut the door. Jackson, we’ll never meet again.

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Trapped at home by a raging storm, a familiar cramp seized my stomach – my period had arrived unexpectedly early. I pushed through the discomfort, heading to the utility closet. My plan was to grab the pads and pain relief tea I’d stashed away, but when I pulled open the door, I froze. The shelves were bare, completely empty. A million questions flooded my mind, wondering where everything had vanished to, when my phone buzzed with a notification. It was a social media post from Lily, Liam’s childhood friend. The photo showed her beaming, clutching an entire unopened box of sanitary pads and a pack of pain relief tea. The caption read: “So grateful to my amazing ‘big brother’ for bringing warmth and comfort just when I needed it most! Seriously a lifesaver!” Below that, she’d added: “Ladies, if anyone needs supplies, just message me! These are free to a good home!” 1 I stared at that post for what felt like an eternity. I couldn’t wrap my head around it. Why was it that every single time she and I needed help, he always, without fail, prioritized her? It wasn’t until two hours later, when he returned with the empty cardboard box, that I finally snapped out of my daze. He saw me sitting motionless on the sofa and frowned, a hint of annoyance in his expression. “It’s already dinner time. Why haven’t you cooked anything?” I ignored his question, meeting his gaze directly. “Did you see the message I sent you?” After realizing my period had started, and all my supplies were gone, I’d messaged him, asking if he’d moved them somewhere else. He’d never replied. I waited a long time, assuming he was busy. It was only when I accidentally clicked on my social media feed that I discovered, in this critical moment, he’d given all my pads to Lily. And together, they had “selflessly” given away my belongings to people in need. “Yeah, I saw it. So what? You had so much stashed away, you wouldn’t use it all at once. This is an emergency, everyone’s stuck inside. What’s wrong with giving things you don’t immediately need to people who do?” His face was etched with impatience, and I suddenly felt utterly exhausted. The dull ache in my lower abdomen sharpened into an agonizing cramp. If it weren’t for the leftover pads from last month in the bathroom, I truly wouldn’t know what to do. Clutching my throbbing belly, my face pale, I told him, “My period started. You need to figure something out and get me some back.” A peculiar expression flickered across Liam’s face. “Grace, you’re unbelievable. Everyone else has their period, and now you do too? Can’t you be more understanding, like Lily? She knows how to help people in need, why are you so selfish?” Selfish? Me? Last month, when I stocked up during the big sale, Lily had seen me carrying a large box of pads. Shamelessly, she’d looped her arm through his and scoffed, “Big brother, your girlfriend’s demand is huge! Only you could handle someone like that.” She’d yelled it out in public, without a shred of decency. I’d gotten angry and told her to shut up. But she just kept on, “Oh, look, your girlfriend’s all flustered!” Liam looked helpless, but instead of stopping her, he’d adopted a magnanimous air and told me, “Lily’s just boisterous, her heart’s in the right place. Don’t take it to heart.” I looked at Liam, whose eyes were now tinged with a faint anger, and said flatly, “Liam, let’s break up.” “What did you say?” Liam’s eyes widened in disbelief, a ridiculous expression on his face. “Grace, you’re breaking up with me just because I gave Lily some pads?” “Yes, I…” Before I could finish, there was a knock at the door. Lily’s cheerful, bright voice drifted in from the hallway. “Big brother, what good food are you making in there? Hurry up and invite your old man in for a taste!” Before we could even open the door, she’d casually entered the security code and walked right in. Seeing the tense atmosphere, the smile on her face quickly faded. “Big brother, did you upset Gracie? I told you before, women get angry easily! Whether it’s your fault or not, you have to apologize right away!” 2 Hearing her words, it felt like a needle had pierced my heart. Liam and I had been together for three years. Every time we argued, I was always the first to back down. I didn’t want trivial things to harm our relationship. But half a year ago, when Lily returned from studying abroad, after our arguments, he started to apologize and try to cheer me up. I thought he’d finally grown up. But it turns out, his apologies were because he’d listened to Lily. Yet, before that, I’d cried and asked him, “Can’t you just try to comfort me?” He’d looked annoyed and retorted, “It’s not my fault, why should I apologize or comfort you?” Just like now, hearing Lily’s words, he frowned deeply and retorted coldly, “I didn’t do anything wrong. Why should I apologize?” Then, his gaze fell on me, tinged with a slight disappointment. “Grace, why do you always compare yourself to Lily?” “Last time she was in a car accident and hospitalized, and suddenly you said you were in a car accident too. This time her period started, and now yours has too? Can’t you think before you lie? Is playing the same trick over and over fun?” Half a month ago, when Lily called him crying late at night about a car accident, Liam and I were still out shopping. When he got her call, his expression instantly tensed. He said, “Lily needs me right now. You go home first, I’m going to check on her.” Then, ignoring my pleas for him to stay, he turned and quickly left. He didn’t know that shortly after he left, two rough-looking guys emerged from an alley. They held me up with knives. In my fear, I gave them everything in my bag. But they thought it wasn’t enough, and their lewd gazes fell on me, trying to drag me into the deserted alley. Filled with terror, I struggled with all my might. I finally managed to break free and ran, only to collide with an oncoming car. Luckily, the driver stopped in time, and I only suffered a minor concussion. As I stumbled out of the observation room, feeling dizzy, I saw a familiar back carrying a lightly scraped Lily out of the hospital. When I got home, I told him I’d been in a car accident and wasn’t feeling well. But he looked at me with a strange, distant gaze. “Lily had a car accident, and you had one too? What a coincidence. Grace, there’s a limit to how much you can sensationalize things.” Even now, he still didn’t believe me, thinking I’d lied to get his attention. Before, I would have tried to defend myself. Now, I just felt tired. I quietly watched him. Before I could speak, Lily said with a look of sudden realization, “Oh, so you’re arguing about the pads! Gracie, you should have said something sooner. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have given all the extra ones to the neighbors.” “I only have enough for myself right now. If you want some, I’ll go get them for you right away. Just don’t be mad at Liam.” Hearing that, I was unexpectedly infuriated. All those things were mine. How did they become hers in her mouth? And she was offering to “bestow” them upon me? “Those were originally mine. If you want to return them, return all of them to me.” Liam looked at me disapprovingly, his eyes full of accusation. “You know perfectly well those things were given to the neighbors. How is Lily supposed to give them back to you? You’re clearly trying to make things difficult for her!” “If she can’t return them, then pay me back the original price.” I silently opened my payment QR code and handed it to her. “That’s three hundred and twenty dollars in total. If you don’t believe me, I have the receipt. Do you want to see it?” 3 A flicker of anger crossed Liam’s eyes, and he said in a low voice, “Grace, I think you’ve lost your mind! You’d better stop this, don’t keep acting out!” With that, he took Lily and walked out of the house without looking back. But if he’d had even a sliver of concern for me, he would have noticed the bloodstain spreading on the sofa where I sat. I endured the cramping pain in my lower abdomen, trembling as I stood up. The tears I’d been holding back in my eyes silently streamed down my face. The habit of stocking up on pads was something Liam had taught me. The year we first got together, he was away on a business trip, and my period started unexpectedly. I sat alone in the bathroom, remembering the days my mom would make me use toilet paper because she couldn’t afford pads. I had no choice but to improvise with paper again. That time, I got a serious infection. When Liam found out, he was both angry and heartbroken. His eyes red, he told me, “Next time something like this happens, you have to tell me. Grace, you’re not alone anymore, you have me.” From then on, even if I forgot to keep some at home, he would regularly buy them for me. I hadn’t understood before. Why, after Lily came back, everything changed. Now, I finally understood. In his heart, I would always be second to Lily. After Liam left, he had nowhere else to go. So he stayed at Lily’s place. That night, lying in bed, I was about to tell my best friend about breaking up with Liam, when I accidentally clicked on Lily’s social media. She had updated her status three minutes ago. The photo showed Liam, wearing a Pikachu apron, busy in her kitchen. I couldn’t hear what she said, but he turned and smiled in response. His gentle, relaxed smile was captured perfectly by the camera. The caption read: “Look at the apron my big brother is wearing! Doesn’t it suit him? He didn’t want to wear it at first, but I coaxed him, and he agreed! I can’t believe how easy he is to win over!” Neighbors who were also friends with me commented below: “Oh, Lily, if a man doesn’t truly care about you, no amount of coaxing will work! The easier he is to win over, the more he loves you!” “Exactly! My husband was like that when he was young. I’d say one thing and he’d be hooked. Now love has turned into kinship; I could be hanging myself and he’d think I was just exercising.” Reading those comments, I couldn’t help but recall my first argument with Liam. It was raining heavily, just like today. He had promised to pick me up from work. But I stood outside the company for two whole hours, and he never showed up. Later I found out, on the day he stood me up, he was with Lily, watching a movie. When I found out, I threw a huge fit. Liam angrily stormed out and didn’t come back for a week. I didn’t want to lose him, so I swallowed my pride and apologized. It took a week of coaxing before he finally agreed to come home. Compared to my desperation back then, Lily’s words made all my genuine efforts in the past seem like a ridiculous joke. I silently exited her social media and got up to pack Liam’s belongings. The apartment we were living in now was rented by me. I’ve always been sensitive and insecure since childhood. I didn’t want to use Liam’s money, nor did I want to live in his house. So when he suggested moving into his place, I flat-out refused him. Looking back now, my choice then was the right one. Otherwise, I can’t imagine how embarrassingly I would have had to move out of his house. I put all his things into cardboard boxes. Then, meticulously, I wiped away every trace he had left in this home. Once I finished, I went to bed, finally content. 4 The next day, good news spread through the residents’ group chat. People could now gradually use the stairs to go down to the second floor to collect relief supplies. I had terrible period cramps last night and couldn’t sleep. My face was pale and lifeless, so I thought I’d let others go first. I’d go down a bit later, to avoid the crowds. But when I finally felt well enough to go downstairs, there were only a few supplies left. Liam and Lily had somehow become volunteers. They were distributing the supplies. When it was my turn, Liam’s eyes darkened. He took half of the vegetables and necessities from the bag and said blandly, “You live alone now, you don’t need that many vegetables. Let’s give these to someone who needs them more.” Hearing his self-righteous, unapproved arrangement, I instantly snapped with laughter. “These were already pre-portioned. Did I agree to your arrangements?” “Gracie, even though these were pre-portioned, you reported two people on the list. Liam is staying at my place now, so his share should go to me.” Lily feigned generosity, lecturing me. It sounded reasonable, but the vegetables he’d picked out were all Lily’s favorites. What was left were the ones I disliked. I pursed my lips. My throbbing abdomen wouldn’t allow me to argue with them here. I took the bag she handed me and turned to leave. But then, Lily’s startled cry came from behind me: “Oh my god, Gracie, why is there so much blood on your pants?!” At her words, disgusted and scrutinizing stares converged on me from all directions. I felt exposed, utterly mortified, frozen in place. “If you were on your period, you should have said something sooner. How could you do something so embarrassing just to spite Liam?” I was shaking with anger, I couldn’t take it anymore. I turned and walked towards her. In her surprised gaze, I lifted the bag of vegetables and swung it at her. Before she could react, I raised my hand and slapped her across the face. Gritting my teeth, I said, “If someone hadn’t been a thief, stealing my things to play the hero, would I be like this?” Liam quickly reacted. As I was about to raise my hand to hit her again, he grabbed my arm and scolded, “That’s enough! What does your public humiliation have to do with Lily? Why do you always blame your mistakes on others?” I’d hit her, and I’d forgotten about him. I smirked faintly, and with my free hand, I slapped him across the face. “Get lost. Anyone has the right to scold me, but you don’t!” With that, ignoring his anger, I shook off his hand and walked away. Back home, I changed my clothes. I took all his belongings and dumped them at Lily’s doorstep. I thought after this, he’d realize I was serious about breaking up and wouldn’t come looking for me again. But to my surprise, when I woke up the next morning, and opened the fridge to make breakfast, everything inside was gone. Not only that, but the rice and noodles on my pantry shelf were also gone. Before I could even react, my phone in my pocket started vibrating incessantly. I tapped on the furiously messaging residents’ group chat, and I felt myself trembling with anger. Liam and Lily had just posted pictures of fresh vegetables and rice and noodles in the group. And they had asked the administrators to tag everyone, telling them that if anyone in the building needed supplies, they could get them for free from apartment 503. The neighbors in the group chat were full of praise for their righteous actions. I, however, pulled out my phone and quietly called the police. The group chat continued to buzz. “The couple in 503 are truly exemplary young people of our time! Such selfless acts deserve commendation. After this storm passes, we must ask the property management to award them a banner of recognition!” “Exactly! When you two get married, Auntie will definitely give you a big red envelope to thank you for your selfless contribution!” “Resident of 502, aren’t you a reporter? You absolutely must report on the good deeds they’ve done, so everyone can see the true kindness that shines through in times of hardship!” Lily was gloating over this, wondering how to respond, when the property manager suddenly tagged her in the group. “Ms. Chen, Mr. Lin, please come to the second floor as soon as possible. Someone has reported you for breaking and entering and theft. The police are on their way.”

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Our daughter was only four when a car crash stole her from us. On the day of the hearing, I watched in horror as my husband, Nathaniel, a star attorney at one of the country’s top law firms, stood on the other side of the aisle. He was defending her killer. I sank to my knees and begged him to fight for our daughter, to get justice for Kitty. He looked down at me, his eyes cold. “She’s gone, Brooke. She’s not coming back. Can’t you just let the living move on?” I tried to believe he was just being principled, a slave to his profession. That was until I saw him with my own eyes, holding the woman who killed our child, whispering tenderly, “Isabelle… let’s have another baby.” … Just yesterday, she was a whirlwind of giggles and bouncing curls. Now, my daughter lay still on a gurney in the emergency room, a forest of tubes and wires obscuring her tiny body. My mother was weeping beside me, but my own hands, clutching my phone, were shaking too violently for tears. The call went straight to voicemail, over and over again. Kitty’s lips moved, her voice a faint, muffled whisper. “Mommy…” I choked back a sob, forcing my voice to be steady. “It’s okay, sweetie. Just hold on. The doctors are going to fix you all up, and then you’ll see Mommy again.” But her eyes, shimmering with unshed tears, slowly drifted shut, and the only reply from the other end of the line was the same cold, automated voice. “The person you are calling is unavailable. Please try again later.” Two hours later, a doctor emerged from the operating room. I launched myself at him, grabbing his shoulders, my world tilting on its axis. “Doctor, how is she? How is my daughter?” He didn’t resist, his face etched with a weary familiarity for scenes like this. He took a deep breath, his voice laced with a gentle sorrow as he uttered the words that shattered my universe. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Crane. We did everything we could.” The world spun. Images of Kitty flashed through my mind—her first steps, her toothy grin, the sound of her laughter echoing in our home. I couldn’t accept it. The vibrant, living girl from this morning was now just… a body on a cold, steel table. A dizzying roar filled my ears. Through the fog, I heard my mother’s anguished cry. “Oh, Brooke, it’s my fault! I wasn’t watching her closely enough! You have to find the driver, Brooke! You have to make them pay for what they did to my grandbaby!” A crisp, white sheet was pulled over my daughter’s face. I followed the stoic-faced medical staff as they wheeled the gurney down the long, sterile hallway toward the morgue. I was numb, a hollowed-out shell moving on autopilot, my heart a raw, bleeding wound. The silence was broken only by the squeaking wheels of the gurney, until the shrill ring of my phone cut through the quiet. It was Nathaniel. Finally. “I told you not to call me when I’m working,” he said, his voice clipped and annoyed. “I had Kitty’s birthday present sent over yesterday. I’m busy, Brooke. Stop bothering me with trivial things. And I won’t be home tonight; something’s come up.” He hung up before I could even speak. He didn’t even ask why I’d been calling him so frantically. My heart turned to stone. I opened his social media profile. Eight minutes ago, he had posted a new picture. It was taken in a sleek, private lounge. A woman in a tight, white dress was nestled against his shoulder, her head resting on him possessively. A dark mark, a hickey, was starkly visible on his neck. The caption was a single word: Finally. I knew that woman. It was Isabelle, his stepsister, his high school sweetheart, the untouchable, idealized “one that got away.” For her, Nathaniel had missed the last moments of his own daughter’s life. After making the final, horrible arrangements for Kitty, I stormed out of the hospital. The location tag on his post led me straight to them. I found them in a dimly lit corner of the bar, lost in each other. They were so engrossed that they didn’t notice me until I was standing right behind them, my shadow falling over their table. “Brooke? What the hell are you doing here?” Nathaniel’s face twisted in anger. His hand flew up, striking my cheek—a familiar, stinging motion. The pain was sharp, but for the first time, my voice was hard as steel. “Do you know what your daughter’s dying wish was? It was to see you one last time. And where were you? In here, satisfying your own selfish urges.” I expected shock, grief, maybe even guilt. But what I saw on his face was… panic. “Dead?” Isabelle blurted out, her eyes wide. “No, that’s impossible. I had someone check on her; she was only supposed to be injured.” She realized what she’d said and tried to shrink away, but it was too late. “What do you know about this?” I demanded, my intuition screaming. I lunged toward her, but Nathaniel stepped between us. “Brooke, we’re in the middle of something important. We can talk about this later.” “You knew,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “You knew something, didn’t you? Nathaniel, she was your daughter!” SLAP! His hand connected with my other cheek. “Brooke, for God’s sake, pull yourself together!” He grabbed Isabelle’s arm and dragged her away, leaving me standing there, stunned and broken. Pull myself together? My daughter was dead, and he was with her killer, telling me to be calm? He couldn’t even be bothered to say goodbye to his own child, and now he wouldn’t even help me get justice. The wait for the trial felt like an eternity. I had to have Kitty cremated first. Swallowing my grief, I clung to one last, desperate hope and called Nathaniel, praying he would at least come to see his daughter one final time. Before I could even speak, his angry voice cut through the line. “How many times do I have to tell you? I’m busy during the day. My clients have life-or-death matters, and you keep distracting me!” “And what about your daughter’s life? Isn’t that a life-or-death matter? Kitty is being…” My words were cut off by a familiar female voice in the background. “Zoe, come back here. Don’t bother your daddy while he’s on the phone.” Zoe. Isabelle’s daughter. In a twisted way, I had her to thank. If Zoe hadn’t been born, Isabelle wouldn’t have been forced to go abroad and get married, and Nathaniel would never have settled for me, the girl who had worshiped him for years. “That’s enough!” Nathaniel snapped, his attention completely diverted. The line was still open as I heard him rush away from the phone. “Zoe, sweetie, don’t run off. How about Daddy takes you to the amusement park this afternoon, huh?” “Listen to your daddy,” I heard Isabelle coo. Daddy? What a joke. Your real daughter is dead, Nathaniel. She’s about to be turned to ash in a cold, lonely crematorium, and you’re here playing happy families with someone else’s child. I could almost picture the scene—the doting father I had always dreamed he would be for our Kitty. How had he treated our daughter? When Kitty was just learning to walk, he’d make her fetch his drinks. If she spilled a drop, he would scream at her, sometimes even hit her. He never once showed her an ounce of tenderness, never took her to the park. Maybe her death was a relief to him. Ten minutes before the trial began, my lawyer informed me that the defendant wanted to settle. I refused instantly. This was my child, a human life. There would be no settlement. As everyone took their seats, my heart pounded with anticipation. Today, the person who killed my daughter would finally face justice. And then I saw him. My husband, Nathaniel, walked calmly across the courtroom and took his place at the defense attorney’s table. A moment later, Isabelle strode in, dressed like a supermodel on a runway, a relaxed, almost bored expression on her face. When she saw me, a contemptuous smirk touched her lips. I shot to my feet, my chair clattering loudly behind me. In that instant, every last shred of my composure vanished. I flew at her like a wild animal, ignoring the shouts and restraining hands, tearing at her expensive clothes, my fists flying. I was going to rip that smug, fake mask off her face. “Brooke, get a hold of yourself!” Nathaniel threw himself in front of me, shielding Isabelle from my rage. “Are you insane?” I shrieked, my voice raw. “She killed your daughter! She’s the murderer, and you’re defending her?” The realization hit me like a physical blow. He had known Kitty was dead from the very beginning. He knew everything. And he was still here, using all his skill and intellect to protect her killer. My heart felt like it was being carved out of my chest with a dull knife. “If I don’t take this case, someone else will,” he said, his voice maddeningly calm. “I have to make a living, Brooke. I have to support myself.” He looked me straight in the eye. “I’m sad that Kitty is gone, but people die. They don’t come back to life. Why can’t you just let this go?” I stared at him, speechless. How could he stand there, in front of the woman who killed our child, and spout such twisted, self-serving logic? I tore myself from his grasp and slapped him across the face, just as he had done to me so many times. His eyes widened in disbelief. “Brooke… you hit me?” The courtroom descended into chaos, and the judge was forced to call a recess. “Can we talk?” Isabelle approached me, a sly, mocking smile on her face. “There’s nothing to talk about,” I snarled, my hands clenched into fists. “You can’t possibly think I would ever agree to a settlement.” She laughed, a light, carefree sound. “A settlement? Oh, honey. I don’t think I’ll be needing your signature for that.”

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My name is Sienna. This was supposed to be my sixth year with Sebastian. That day, I accidentally overheard a conversation between him and his secretary. The secretary asked if the little girl was still throwing a tantrum. Sebastian let out a scoff and said that no matter how fiery she was, she couldn’t hold a candle to the way Sienna used to be. The secretary quickly agreed, laughing about how no one could have predicted that the wild, untamable Miss Sienna from back then would turn into someone so incredibly obedient, never daring to step a toe out of line. But Sebastian just frowned. He said Sienna was docile now, yes, but she had also become painfully boring. I stood frozen outside the door, feeling like a lifeless statue carved out of clay. So that was it. I was the girl he was talking about. The one who used to be fiercely stubborn, but had now become so blindly obedient that I was completely unrecognizable. 1 Through the half-open door, the rise and fall of their conversation drifted out into the hallway. I had just raised my hand to push the door open when I suddenly heard my own name. “I think she’s just taking advantage of the fact that I spoil her.” “Fiery?” Sebastian sneered. “Even on her worst day, she doesn’t have half the fire Sienna had back then.” The men inside chuckled, eager to please him. “Miss Lily is young, after all. She won’t even turn nineteen until after the holidays. It’s totally normal for her to be a bit childish and throw tantrums.” “Sienna was exactly that age back then.” Sebastian seemed to get caught up in the memory, falling silent for a brief moment. “You all saw it. You know exactly how wild and fierce she was.” “But look at her now. She’s so well-behaved she wouldn’t dare breathe in the wrong direction.” The sycophantic laughter started up again. “You’re absolutely right, sir. Back then, none of us could have ever imagined Miss Sienna becoming so incredibly tame.” Someone else chimed in. “I remember it perfectly. She had a lethal temper. If I hadn’t ducked fast enough that one night, that heavy glass ashtray would have split my skull wide open.” Sebastian laughed along. “Now that she’s older, she’s gotten soft and utterly dull.” “Looking at Lily… I actually see a faint shadow of how Sienna used to be.” As he spoke, he suddenly turned to his secretary. “Go book a flight.” “For tonight. I’m flying back to New York.” “Are you flying back personally just to coax her?” The secretary sounded genuinely surprised. Sebastian didn’t deny it. “The patriarch isn’t feeling well. I need to go check on him. Dropping by to see Lily is just on the way.” “There are no more commercial flights tonight. The earliest private slot is at 3 AM. Would you like to reschedule…” “Book the 3 AM slot.” Sebastian cut him off without hesitation. 2 I slowly lowered my hand. Inside the room, the conversation carried on, but they had already moved on to other, meaningless topics. I didn’t push the door open. I just stood there, entirely rigid. Like a wooden carving. It wasn’t until the harsh, overly bright hallway lights began to make my eyes sting that I finally blinked, turned around, and slowly walked toward the elevator. The Sienna that Sebastian was talking about was me. The girl whose personality used to be incredibly stubborn and unyielding. The girl who had rejected his massive, extravagant romantic pursuits over a dozen times. The Sienna who used to dramatically quote cheesy proverbs about how wealth could never corrupt her and power could never bend her. And now, I had morphed into a girl so submissive that I didn’t even recognize my own reflection. As I stepped into the elevator, my phone buzzed. It was Sebastian. “Why aren’t you here yet?” “Something came up. I’m not going to make it.” “Alright. We’re wrapping up here anyway. I’ll be home soon.” Sebastian’s voice was as warm and gentle as always. “Be a good girl and wait for me at home, Sienna.” But he didn’t come home soon. I took a shower. My mind was wide awake, so I just sat on the living room rug, staring blankly into space. It wasn’t until the early hours of the morning that the rain began to pour. The front door clicked open, and Sebastian strode in, bringing the freezing, damp scent of the rain with him. “You’re not asleep?” He seemed slightly taken aback. A fleeting second of guilt seemed to flash through his eyes. But it was only a second. He walked over, leaned down, and brushed his thumb against my cheek. Then he pressed a kiss to my temple. “I have to fly back to New York.” “Grandpa is sick. I’m really worried about him.” He spoke quickly, his voice low and a bit hoarse. His brows were pulled tightly together, and a heavy shadow of concern covered his face. If this had been any other day, my heart would have ached for him. But right now, looking at his face, studying every microscopic shift in his expression, I just felt a sickening urge to laugh. Was flying back to coax Lily really just a coincidence? Or was checking on his sick grandfather the actual coincidence? I doubt Sebastian even knew the answer to that himself. But it was glaringly obvious that his performance right now was so good he was even fooling himself. 4 “Sebastian, it’s raining outside.” I pointed toward the dark windows. A sudden, violent crack of thunder ripped the pitch-black sky wide open. It was a thunderstorm. My absolute biggest phobia. It was also the exact same weather we had six years ago, on the night we finally got together. “I’m scared.” I reached out and tugged the hem of his jacket, my pale lips pressed into a tight line. I looked up at him. I looked deep into his eyes. I saw the tiny reflection of myself in his pupils. Seeing the fragile, desperate hope written all over my own face made me want to cry. Six years of deep, consuming love couldn’t just be erased overnight. I kept telling myself that. If he didn’t leave… if he just agreed to stay with me… “Sienna, I absolutely have to go back.” Sebastian gently but firmly pried my fingers off his jacket. His tone was so resolute it bordered on freezing. “You have always been so understanding. What is wrong with you tonight?” Saying that, he turned around, shrugging off his damp coat as he walked toward the walk-in closet. “Come here. Help me pack.” “I’ll be gone for at least a week.” “But don’t worry, I won’t miss your birthday.” “And I definitely won’t miss our anniversary.” He stopped and looked back at me over his shoulder. His dark hair was slightly damp from the rain, clinging softly to his forehead. It made his deep, dark eyes look incredibly warm and affectionate. He didn’t look like the arrogant, untouchable elite he usually was. I stood up and offered him a small smile. I walked right past him and headed into the closet. I pulled out a massive, oversized hardshell suitcase. Sebastian chuckled. “Why do I need a bag that big? I’ll be back in a few days.” I thought about it for a second. He was right. But you couldn’t exactly wear recycled outfits to go see a brand-new girl. A girl with a temper that fiery definitely wouldn’t swallow that kind of disrespect. I packed a few essentials. Throughout the process, Sebastian kept checking his luxury watch, his eyes brimming with blatant impatience. My heart felt like a massive boulder, slowly sinking into the dark depths of the ocean. There were no violent waves or dramatic crashes. Just a few silent bubbles rising to the surface as it disappeared. I finally realized that letting go of six years of love only took the space of a single heartbeat. 5 Sebastian left. The heavy rain finally stopped. A faint, pale glow appeared on the horizon. The weather forecast said today was going to be a beautiful, sunny day. I started packing my own belongings. The things I absolutely needed went into my largest suitcase. Everything else went into cardboard boxes. I called a moving company to come and junk it all. Right before I walked out the door, I took off the ring that had sat on my left hand for six straight years. Sebastian had personally slid it onto my finger. He had promised me it was a priceless heirloom, passed down only to the wives of the Prescott family. But the Prescott family despised my ordinary, working-class background. They flat-out refused to accept me. They certainly never would have handed over a family heirloom to a nobody like me. I knew the truth. I knew it was just an expensive replica he had custom-made to keep me happy. And back then, because I was so desperately in love with him, I was perfectly willing to let him trick me. The ring was valuable, yes, but a fake was still a fake. I opened the front door and dragged my heavy suitcase out into the hall. I didn’t look back a single time. Just like I didn’t look back the day I decided to walk toward him. I gambled my heart, and I lost. I could accept that. 6 On his third day back in New York. The patriarch was perfectly fine and had already been discharged from the hospital. Lily had been successfully coaxed back into a sweet, obedient angel. His elite circles were throwing welcome-back parties for him every single night. Sebastian’s schedule was packed to the absolute brim. It wasn’t until a rare, quiet moment of downtime that someone casually mentioned Sienna’s name, snapping him back to reality. It had been exactly three days. He hadn’t received a single phone call from Sienna. There wasn’t a single text message waiting for him on his phone. His brow furrowed. He remembered that the night he left, the sky was tearing itself apart with a thunderstorm. Sienna was terrified of thunderstorms. Her father had died in a brutal hit-and-run on a night exactly like that. It was a trauma she could never outrun. A sudden wave of regret, mixed with a sharp sting of guilt, hit his chest. Why hadn’t he just waited until morning to fly out? It would have only been a few hours. Lily’s sweet, bubbling laughter echoed across the room. His wealthy friends were teasing her, treating her like an adorable little pet. Sebastian suddenly remembered what it was like when he was chasing Sienna. He had finally managed to convince her to come out for a drink. But because these exact same arrogant trust-fund kids had disrespected her and her roommate, Sienna completely lost her mind. She literally flipped the table right in front of them. She used her razor-sharp tongue to curse those spoiled brats into the dirt. And because he was standing right behind her, actively clapping and cheering her on, his friends were furious but completely powerless. They had been forced to swallow their pride and apologize to her face. Thinking back on it now, the memory was both hilarious and ridiculous. Over the last few years, the passion between him and Sienna had slowly faded. He frequently used checking on his grandfather as an excuse to linger in New York and fool around. But those girls came and went. They bored him entirely too quickly. Until he met Lily. But looking at her now, why did he ever think Lily was anything like Sienna? Sienna would never sit there like a good girl and let a bunch of men treat her like a joke. Sienna wouldn’t just blush and look down when they made dirty comments. When Sienna got angry, her eyes burned like actual fire. She would put her hands on her hips, tilt her chin up defiantly, and say something incredibly naive but entirely fearless: “You think having a little money makes you a god? I don’t give a damn about your wealth.” Sebastian couldn’t help but laugh out loud. He pulled out his phone, deciding to finally call her. But the call couldn’t connect. He lit a cigarette and stood on the high-rise balcony for ten minutes. Then, he called one of his subordinates upstate. Half an hour later, the man called back. His voice was trembling with absolute terror. “Miss Sienna moved out.” “She hired a moving company to haul everything away.” “The only thing left is a ring sitting on the coffee table.” Sebastian’s grip on his phone tightened so hard his knuckles turned white. “Did she leave a message?” “No, sir. I searched the entire apartment.” “She didn’t leave a single word behind.” Sebastian let out a dark, furious laugh. He realized that the exact insult he threw at Lily applied perfectly to Sienna. She was just taking advantage of the fact that he spoiled her. For the last few years, he had completely abandoned the luxury of New York high society just to live with her in that boring, quiet little town. His parents and elders refused to accept her, and he had fought them brutally for it. During their first few years together, he even skipped his family’s elite holiday galas just to spend New Year’s Eve with her. Who the hell was he? He was Sebastian Prescott. Since when did he ever lower his head and sacrifice his own comfort for anyone else? On the other end of the line, the subordinate didn’t even dare to breathe. It took a long time before Sebastian finally spoke, his voice dripping with ice. “Change the locks.” This was his territory. Walking out was easy, but if she thought she could ever waltz back in, she was out of her mind. 7 The seventh day. This was the day he was originally supposed to fly back. But Sebastian didn’t pack his bags. Sienna’s birthday was in five days. And exactly five days after that was their anniversary. Compared to her birthday, Sienna had always cared way more about the anniversary. Sebastian figured that, at the absolute latest, she would crack by that day and come crawling back. The twelfth day. Sebastian spent the entire day feeling inexplicably restless and on edge. A reminder popped up on his calendar. Sienna’s birthday. It felt like a physical needle in his eye. He opened the app and deleted it entirely. His friends had set up a massive party. After the first club, they immediately moved to a second lounge. He brought Lily along. The girl had completely shed all her defensive thorns. She sat glued to his side, looking as obedient as a porcelain doll. They were deep into the liquor when someone suddenly brought up Sienna’s name. “Seb, are you and that Sienna girl officially done for good?” Normally, even when he came back to New York, he never stayed longer than a week. No matter how gorgeous the girls were, his core focus always remained tied to Sienna. But this time, the vibe was completely different. Everyone was betting that Sienna was officially ancient history. Sebastian didn’t even lift his eyes. He held his whiskey glass in one hand, twisting a strand of Lily’s hair around the fingers of his other hand. “We’ve been done for a while.” “Hell yes!” Carter shot up from his leather booth, practically rubbing his hands together in excitement. “I’ve been waiting for this day until I was blue in the face!” “She used to walk all over us just because you backed her up. She was practically stepping on my neck.” “Now that you’ve dumped her, I want to see exactly how cocky she can be. If I ever run into her again, I swear to God I will destroy her!” A lot of the guys in the room had suffered under Sienna’s absolute refusal to tolerate their garbage. Instantly, the room erupted into passionate agreement. Lily looked around the room with wide, innocent eyes. “Who is Sienna? Is she really mean? You guys seem to hate her.” “She is the absolute worst! A total nightmare!” “Little girl, whatever you do, do not act like her. Girls like that always meet a miserable end, got it?” Lily turned back to Sebastian, pressing her soft body against his chest. “I’m the best-behaved girl in the world now, aren’t I, Sebastian?” Sebastian looked down. He clearly saw the calculated, desperate fawning hiding in her eyes. Even though she was trying her hardest to hide it, he saw right through it. He had seen that exact same pathetic, groveling look from people his entire life. He was utterly disgusted by it. He had just raised his hand to push her away when the heavy VIP doors were suddenly shoved open. “Holy shit, guess who I just saw downstairs?!” “Who? Why are you screaming?” “It’s Sienna! Sienna just walked past the bar! With that exact same arrogant attitude, I would recognize her if she turned to ash!” “What the hell is she doing here?” “Seb, is she stalking you? Is she here to beg for you back?” “I told you guys she wouldn’t just quietly walk away. She was definitely waiting for tonight to pull some massive stunt!” “Seb, if she comes crying to you, you aren’t going to get soft, are you?” The arrogant bravado of the rich kids instantly dropped a few notches. After all, every single one of them had seen exactly how obsessively Sebastian used to protect her. And none of them could genuinely predict what Sebastian was actually thinking right now. Sebastian’s hand, which had been meant to push Lily away, suddenly dropped to her cheek. He lightly pinched Lily’s soft skin, lazily lifting his gaze. His eyes locked onto the half-open door of the VIP room. He could faintly make out a slender shadow standing just outside in the hall. It had to be Sienna. He had honestly thought her pride would hold out a little longer. He assumed she would at least wait another five days. He didn’t expect her to lose her patience this quickly. Sebastian suddenly felt the heavy, suffocating dark cloud that had ruined his entire day completely evaporate. He leaned back lazily against the leather cushions. He purposely raised his voice, letting his tone drag with absolute arrogance. “No. I like good, obedient girls like Lily now.” “Whoever wants to deal with a wild thorn like that can have her.” The shadow cast on the hallway floor gave a violent, sudden tremble. The corner of Sebastian’s mouth curled up into a smirk. He was willing to bet money that Sienna wouldn’t last three seconds before she charged into the room. After all, with a temper as explosive as hers, how could she possibly swallow an insult like that?

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The meeting was in full swing when Nicholas’s new executive assistant decided to make her move. She snatched the iced latte from the conference table and, with a swift, vicious motion, flung its contents squarely in my face. The sticky cold shocked my skin. “You think a useless leech like you, who hides in her office playing games all day, has any right to question my proposal?” Her voice was a shrill, grating sound that cut through the silence. Then, she pointed a perfectly manicured finger toward the door. “You’re fired,” she snarled. “Get the hell out. Now.” I rose slowly from my chair, dabbing at the sticky brown mess on my face with a napkin. My eyes found Nicholas. He deliberately avoided my gaze, a frown creasing his brow, but he said nothing. His silence was his answer. He was letting this happen. A small, humorless smile touched my lips. I pulled out my phone and tapped the speaker icon. “Dad,” I said, my voice calm. “I assume you heard all of that?” A pause. “Yeah, someone just told me to pack my bags and get out.” 1 It had started on Monday, as most terrible weeks do. I was deep in a raid, my focus entirely on the screen, when a sharp rap sounded on my office door. “Ms. Ashford? Suzanne asked me to inform all department heads that there’s a mandatory meeting in ten minutes in the main conference room.” It was Maria from Admin, looking flustered. I didn’t look up, my fingers a blur across the keyboard. “Not going. I’m busy.” In the six months I’d been an employee here, I’d made a point of skipping every single meeting. It wasn’t that I couldn’t go; I simply didn’t want to. “But…” Maria hesitated. “Suzanne was very specific. She said no one is excused. It’s an order from Mr. Blackwood himself.” My fingers faltered. On the screen, my character was instantly annihilated by the final boss. As the screen faded to a dismal gray, I cursed under my breath and snapped the laptop shut. The conference room was already packed when I arrived. As soon as I walked in, conversations died down, replaced by a wave of whispers and curious stares. “What’s Olivia Ashford doing here?” “I thought she didn’t do meetings.” “Who knows. Must be Suzanne’s doing. She’s been gunning for her since day one.” “This should be good.” I ignored the gossip, found a seat in the farthest corner, and pulled out my phone to respawn in my game. A full thirty minutes passed before Nicholas Blackwood and Suzanne finally graced us with their presence. Suzanne clutched a stack of files, a triumphant, self-satisfied smirk plastered on her face. “Thank you all for taking time out of your busy schedules to be here,” Nicholas began, his gaze sweeping the room. It flickered over me for less than a second before moving on. “Suzanne has a major new proposal to announce.” Suzanne cleared her throat and launched into a long-winded speech about her “revolutionary” new marketing strategy. I continued playing my game, half-listening, and the more I heard, the more ridiculous it sounded. The budget was astronomical, and the entire concept was completely misaligned with our company’s market position. “…and so, I propose we immediately invest eighty million dollars to dominate the luxury market within the next three months!” Suzanne concluded, her voice ringing with passion. A few scattered, obligatory claps echoed in the room. I couldn’t help myself. Without looking up from my phone, I said, “For eighty million, you could just throw cash off the roof of this building. You’d get more buzz and better press for your money.” The room went dead silent. Nicholas’s brow furrowed. “What did you just say?” Suzanne’s voice shot up an octave. I finally lifted my head, my expression bored. “I said your proposal is a train wreck.” I ticked off the points on my fingers. “First, your target demographic is wrong. Second, your chosen media channels are ineffective. Third, your entire ROI calculation is a fantasy.” I leaned back in my chair. “That eighty million might as well be flushed down the toilet. At least then it would make a sound.” Suzanne’s face turned a shade of crimson I didn’t think was humanly possible. She grabbed her drink, stormed across the room, and stood looming over me. “You—a lazy, good-for-nothing freeloader who does nothing but play video games—you dare question my work?” she shrieked. And then… splash. The icy, sweet liquid drenched my face, dripping down my neck and soaking the front of my white dress, staining it a sickening brown. The room held its breath, a collective, silent gasp. “Olivia Ashford,” Suzanne bellowed, her chest heaving, “as the CEO’s executive assistant, I’m telling you you’re fired! Get out!” 2 Suzanne glared down at me, a queen banishing a peasant. I stood up slowly, pulling a handkerchief from my pocket and methodically wiping the sticky residue from my skin. Then I looked at Nicholas. He frowned, shifted his weight, and looked away. He chose silence. I actually laughed. A real, genuine laugh. I held up my phone, the call still active on speaker. “Dad, you get all that?” I asked into the receiver. “Someone’s telling me to get lost.” After two seconds of silence, a deep, powerful voice came through the line. “Understood. I’ll make the arrangements.” The only reason I was working here in the first place was because of an old family pact, a betrothal arranged by my grandfather when I was a child. Nicholas Blackwood was my fiancé. I hated the idea of an arranged marriage, but my father had pleaded, pulling out every trick in the book, including the classic “you’re breaking your old man’s heart” routine. So, I’d caved. To “foster our relationship,” my father had insisted I take a position at Blackwood Corporation. For six months, I’d played the part of a slacker, spending my days gaming. But behind the scenes, I was secretly pulling strings, leveraging my family’s resources to quietly steer the company toward unprecedented success. Blackwood Corp’s profits had soared, culminating in a wildly successful IPO that had landed Nicholas a spot on the Northwood City Rich List. Despite my help, our interactions were minimal. During our handful of awkward, stilted dates, I’d realized he knew I was the girl from the family arrangement, but he had absolutely no idea who my family really was. … I sank back into my corner seat, picked up my phone, and resumed the game that had been so rudely interrupted. On the screen, my character respawned, and my fingers flew across the glass, the chaos in the room fading into the background. Suzanne’s face went from red to a blotchy purple. She clearly hadn’t expected me to so thoroughly ignore her. She slammed her hand on the table. “Olivia Ashford! What do you think this is?” she screeched. “Everyone here is working, and you’re playing games?” “I’ve already hit my sales targets for the entire year,” I retorted with a cold smile. “What’s wrong with a little game?” “If you don’t get out, I’m calling security!” “Be my guest,” I said without looking up. The other executives exchanged uneasy glances. Some buried their noses in their files, while others shot nervous looks at Nicholas, waiting for him to act. Finally, Nicholas stood. He was wearing a perfectly tailored black suit, his expression a mask of cold authority. His eyes, when they met mine, were filled with impatience and disdain. “Olivia, your performance has been satisfactory,” he began, his voice quiet but laced with an undeniable command. “But this is a company, not your living room. I need you to leave this meeting now. Do not disrupt it any further.” My fingers paused. My character died again. I looked up, meeting his cold gaze, and let a playful smile curve my lips. “Are you absolutely sure you want to kick me out, Nicholas?” His frown deepened, his voice turning to ice. “I won’t repeat myself. If you have any professional integrity, you’ll know when to stop.” “And if I don’t want to go?” “Then don’t blame me for what happens next.” Seeing Nicholas firmly on her side, Suzanne’s courage surged. She lunged forward and slapped the phone out of my hand. CRACK! It hit the marble floor, the screen instantly spider-webbing with fractures. “Don’t push your luck, Olivia!” she spat, grabbing the collar of my dress and yanking me forward. “The CEO gave you an order! What are you still doing here? Get out!” From the day she was hired, Suzanne had made it her personal mission to make my life difficult. I once overheard her in Nicholas’s office, her voice just loud enough to carry into the hallway. “Mr. Blackwood, this company isn’t a charity. It’s not fair to the other employees that we pay a fortune to someone who just plays games all day.” Nicholas hadn’t responded, but through the glass, I saw his hands pause over a document. After that, Suzanne grew bolder. She’d make passive-aggressive comments in department meetings about my “achievements.” “Some people draw a huge salary but can’t even be bothered to show up for a meeting. I guess some of us are here to work, and others are here on vacation.” Soon, the rumors spread like wildfire. I was a spoiled rich girl who’d gotten the job through connections. I slept in my office all day. There was even a betting pool on when I’d finally be fired. I knew about all of it. I just didn’t care. 3 But my indifference only seemed to fuel her aggression. Now, seeing her chance, her arrogance was off the charts. I was done being patient. I caught her wrist in a tight grip and twisted. Hard. “Ah!” Suzanne cried out in pain, her hand flying open. As she stumbled back, her arm slammed against the edge of the conference table. The sound of crystal hitting solid wood was sickeningly sharp. She staggered, looked down at her wrist, and her face went completely white. A prominent scratch now marred the crystal face of her absurdly expensive Patek Philippe watch, glinting under the overhead lights. “You… you…” she stammered, her hand trembling as she held up her wrist, her eyes blazing with fury. “Olivia, do you have any idea how much this watch costs? It was a birthday present from Nicholas! It’s worth a hundred thousand dollars!” I calmly smoothed the wrinkled collar of my dress. “You were the one who lost your balance. Who’s to blame for that?” “Olivia Ashford!” Nicholas’s voice finally boomed through the room, sharp and furious. “That’s enough! You disrupted a meeting, and now you’ve deliberately damaged personal property. As CEO of this company, I am officially terminating your employment. Pack your things and leave. Immediately.” Suzanne, emboldened, shrieked, “Nicholas, don’t let her off that easy! She has to pay for the watch!” The room was silent. Every eye was on me, a mix of pity and malicious glee on their faces, all of them waiting for the show to begin. “Fine,” I said. “I’ll pay.” I bent down to retrieve my shattered phone. The screen was a disaster, but it still worked. “A hundred thousand, was it?” I was about to dial when Suzanne sneered, “What hundred thousand? I meant a million!” I paused and looked at her. “Are you sure?” “Of course, I’m sure!” she said, her chin held high. “A gift from Nicholas is priceless! A million dollars is a bargain!” She looked around the room for support. “Am I right, everyone?” She was cornering me. She knew my official salary; there was no way I could afford that. This was about humiliation. The other executives, eager to curry favor, chimed in. “She’s right. A gift from the CEO can’t be measured in money,” the CFO said, pushing up his glasses. “You should just pay it, Ms. Ashford.” “This company isn’t a charity. You break it, you buy it,” the head of marketing added with a smirk. “Though at your salary, Ms. Ashford, you’ll probably be paying it off until you retire.” A ripple of cruel laughter went through the room. They had always resented me, and now they were savoring my downfall. Nicholas stood by, his brow furrowed, but he did nothing to stop them. Their taunts didn’t bother me. I looked straight at Suzanne. “One million dollars. Final offer?” Suzanne blinked, then let out a derisive snort. “Olivia, who are you trying to fool? How much do you make in a month? You couldn’t pay that if you sold a kidney.” I ignored her and put the phone to my ear. “I need one million dollars in cash delivered to the Blackwood Corporation conference room. As fast as possible.” Suzanne rolled her eyes. “Please. Who do you think you’re fooling with a fake phone call?” I didn’t answer. I just waited. Less than ten minutes later, the conference room doors swung open. A man in an impeccably tailored suit walked in, followed by three uniformed bank couriers, each carrying a heavy-duty briefcase. The man walked directly to me and bowed respectfully. “Miss Ashford,” he said. “Here is the one million dollars you requested.” I nodded. “Thank you for your trouble. You can leave it there.” One by one, the couriers opened the cases. Stacks of crisp, hundred-dollar bills gleamed under the lights, a breathtaking sight. A stunned silence fell over the room. Every gaze was fixed on the money, the air so thick you could cut it with a knife. Even breathing seemed to have stopped. Suzanne’s face was a mask of disbelief, her jaw slack. She stared at the cash, then at the man in the suit. Suddenly, the CFO gasped, his face draining of all color. “Mr… Mr. Kensington?!” 4 It was James Kensington, president of the largest national bank in the country. A man so powerful that even Nicholas’s grandfather couldn’t get a meeting with him on short notice. And here he was, bowing to me, calling me “Miss Ashford.” Nicholas, after a moment of stunned silence, hurried forward, his hand outstretched. “Mr. Kensington! What an honor. My grandfather speaks of you often, he’s been hoping to see you again.” Kensington didn’t even grant him a full look, offering only a curt nod in his direction. His attention was solely on me. “Miss Ashford, if there is anything else you require, you need only ask.” With that, he turned and led his men out of the room, as briskly as they had arrived. Nicholas’s hand was left hanging in mid-air. His face flushed a deep, humiliating red. Suzanne’s bravado had completely evaporated. Her legs were trembling so badly she could barely stand, and beads of sweat dotted her forehead. I casually reached into one of the cases, pulled out a thick stack of bills, and lightly patted her cheek with it. “One million dollars, Suzanne. Not a penny less,” I said coolly. “Now, that watch is mine.” Before she could react, I snatched the Patek Philippe from her wrist and, in front of everyone, dropped it into the nearby trash can. “You!” she gasped, her eyes wide with fury. I turned to Nicholas, a placid smile on my face. “Mr. Blackwood, the watch is paid for. Now, I believe we need to discuss compensation for my phone.” Suzanne, after a moment of shock, burst out laughing, a hysterical, mocking sound. “Compensation?” she jeered, crossing her arms. “It’s a damn phone! How much could it possibly be worth?” I held up one finger. “You’re right, it’s not worth much,” I said. “Only about a hundred million dollars.” The room erupted. First with shocked silence, then with riotous laughter. The Head of Marketing slapped the table. “A hundred million? Olivia, did that iced latte scramble your brain?” The CFO pushed his glasses up his nose, adding with mock seriousness, “Company policy states that damaged items are compensated at market value. I’m afraid your phone’s market value wouldn’t even be a rounding error, Ms. Ashford.” Seeing the room on her side again, Suzanne’s confidence returned. She stepped toward me, a vicious smirk on her face. “Tell you what, I’ll be generous and call a psychiatrist for you. Delusions of grandeur are a serious illness, you know. They need to be treated.”

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Five years ago, Logan’s tech startup went bankrupt, leaving him drowning in a mountain of debt. At the time, I was pregnant with his child. But I was terrified that if I stayed with him, we would end up starving on the streets. So, without a single word, I packed my bags and ran away, taking our unborn baby with me. The next time I heard his name, it was five years later. Word on the street was that he had become the ruthless, undisputed head of the multi-billion-dollar Sinclair family empire. But there was a catch—a horrific car accident had allegedly left him permanently sterile. As fate would have it, right around the exact same time, my son was diagnosed with a severe illness, and I desperately needed a massive amount of money to save his life. I bit my lip, swallowed my pride, and grabbed my little boy’s hand. “Come on, sweetie. Mommy is going to take you to see your daddy.” 1 Lying in his hospital bed, little Leo rolled his eyes at me with zero hesitation. “Mom, are you losing it? Didn’t you say my dad died a long time ago?” I let out an awkward, dry laugh. “Oh, well, he was really, really sick back then. I thought he was going to die. But, surprise! The doctors fixed him.” Leo’s eyes suddenly lit up like fireworks. “Does that mean I can get fixed by the doctors and go home, just like Daddy?” I nodded firmly. “Of course you can!” Kids are so easy to trick. A few simple words, and he believed me completely. Walking out of his hospital room, I reopened the browser on my phone. The screen displayed a massive headline from a major financial news outlet, reporting that the CEO of Sinclair Enterprises was left infertile following a catastrophic car crash. At first, I honestly thought it was just some guy who happened to share the same name. But when my thumb slipped and I clicked the article, my heart dropped. The man in the high-resolution photo didn’t just share Logan’s name—he had Logan’s exact face. There are no coincidences that massive in this world. There was only one logical explanation: Logan had lied to me, too. He was never the broke, struggling kid from the wrong side of the tracks that I thought he was. He was the heir to an empire. Standing in that sterile hospital corridor, I didn’t know whether to scream or cry. But at the very least, for Leo’s sake, this was a godsend. I immediately booked two first-class plane tickets to New York City for the next morning. When my mom arrived at the hospital to drop off dinner, I was already throwing clothes into a suitcase. “Another business trip? Are you trying to dump the kid on me again?” she grumbled, setting the Tupperware on the table. “I told you exactly what was going to happen five years ago. I told you not to have this baby, but you refused to listen. And now that he’s here, you constantly dump him on me. I am supposed to be enjoying my retirement, but instead, I’m trapped in this house playing nanny.” I glanced nervously at the bed. Leo was awake, watching us. I lowered my voice to a harsh whisper. “Mom, please. Can you stop saying that in front of him? He’s little, but he understands. It hurts his feelings.” “Oh, whatever. You did it, but I’m not allowed to talk about it…” “Mom. If you have nothing else to do, go give Leo a hug. Tomorrow morning, I am taking him to New York.” I cut her off sharply. She froze. Then, she grabbed my arm and dragged me out into the hallway. “Did you scrape together enough for the surgery?” she demanded, her voice dropping. “No, wait… where did you get that kind of money? You’ve been raising a kid by yourself for five years. You don’t have a dime to spare.” I kept my eyes on the floor. I had zero intention of telling my mother the truth right now. “Just drop it, Mom. Honestly, I have no idea when we’ll be back.” “You can finally go enjoy your peaceful retirement. Leo and I won’t be dragging you down anymore.” My mom’s face instantly hardened into a furious scowl. “You little brat. You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you? You know perfectly well I just talk tough, but I love that kid.” She waved me off dismissively. “Forget it. I’m not wasting my breath on you. I’m going to go see my grandson.” 2 Early the next morning, my mom squeezed Leo so tight she could barely breathe, sobbing hysterically in the hospital lobby. “Leo, my sweet boy, Grandma is going to miss you so much.” “Once the doctors fix you up, you hurry right back to Grandma, okay?” See? People are always like this. They complain when you’re around, but the second you actually try to leave, they act like the world is ending. Just before we stepped into the Uber heading to the airport, my mom shoved a debit card into my coat pocket. “I called around and borrowed some cash. It’s not a fortune, but it’ll help in an emergency. You know the pin. Take good care of my boy.” I waved from the window as the car pulled away, but my stomach was in knots. If my mom knew my actual plan was to hand Leo over to Logan and walk away, she would literally murder me. My own heart felt like it was being run through a meat grinder. But to guarantee Leo got access to the absolute best medical care in the world, this was a trip I had to take. Sitting on the plane, I leaned close to Leo and started laying down the ground rules. “Listen to me, Leo. From now on, whenever there are other people around, you have to call me ‘Auntie.’ Do you understand?” “Why?” Leo tilted his little head, his face entirely scrunched up in confusion. I took a deep breath and patiently fed him a lie. “Think about it. When your dad was super sick, I didn’t stay and take care of him. He is probably incredibly mad at me. If he finds out I came back, who knows how he might try to punish me?” Leo blinked his big eyes, only half understanding. “Mom… are you not going to stay with me at Daddy’s house?” Guilt slammed into me so hard I couldn’t even look him in the eye. “Once the doctors make you all better, Mommy will come right back and pick you up.” “You promise you aren’t tricking me?” “I would never.” “Pinky promise.” “Okay. Pinky promise.” 3 I didn’t go straight to Logan. Instead, I used every resource I could find to track down Logan’s mother, Melora Sinclair. We met at a tiny, obscure coffee shop in Brooklyn that completely clashed with her custom Chanel suit. She kept her oversized designer sunglasses on, sitting rigidly in the cheap wooden booth. “You are claiming you have a child? And that this child belongs to my son?” She spoke first, her sharp gaze slowly dragging from my face down to Leo, who was sitting quietly beside me. The very next second, her entire demeanor shattered. “Oh my dear Lord… is this a carbon copy of Logan?” She practically lunged across the table, grabbing Leo’s small hands, examining his face with frantic excitement. “This… this is exactly what Logan looked like as a little boy! Exactly!” Melora wasn’t exaggerating in the slightest. From the day I found out I was pregnant to the day I gave birth, Logan was entirely absent. But regardless of the angle, Leo was the spitting image of his father. I slid a thick manila folder across the table. It contained Leo’s complete medical history, his birth certificate, and all his identity documents. “Leo was diagnosed with a severe congenital heart defect a year ago. He requires immediate, highly specialized surgery.” “If your family has any doubts whatsoever, I fully support a DNA test.” Melora’s face turned deadly serious. She stared at me intensely. “And you are the boy’s…” “I have no relation to the child. I am simply acting on behalf of someone else.” “If the Sinclair family is willing to claim this boy, I will disappear immediately.” Melora stood up, stepped outside the coffee shop, and made a rapid phone call. Ten minutes later, a sleek black SUV pulled up, and she escorted us to the most elite private hospital in Manhattan. Shortly after we arrived, a man in a sharp suit delivered a sealed plastic bag containing a single strand of dark hair. The moment the rapid DNA results were handed to her, Melora’s eyes lit up like the Fourth of July. While the pediatric specialists whisked Leo away for a preliminary workup, Melora opened her designer handbag, pulled out a massive stack of crisp hundred-dollar bills, and slid them across the waiting room table. “Thank you,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “The Sinclair family will ensure this boy has everything he could ever need.” I politely pushed the money back. I had fully intended to raise this boy myself. But clearly, fate had other, much crueler plans for us. As I turned to walk away, Leo suddenly ran out of the examination room and grabbed the hem of my coat. “Auntie… you promise you aren’t tricking me, right?” His big eyes were bloodshot and brimming with tears. He hadn’t forgotten our deal on the plane. I crouched down and gently cupped his cheek. Because of his illness over the last year, he looked so much smaller and more fragile than other boys his age. I was a terrible mother. I had failed him. I fought back the tears burning the back of my throat and forced a smile. “Did you forget? We pinky promised.” 4 I didn’t leave the hospital until I physically saw the Sinclair family’s private security detail escort Leo into the ultra-luxury VIP pediatric suite. When I finally got back to my cheap hotel room, my chest felt like a hollow, echoing cavern. It felt like someone had reached in and violently ripped out the most important piece of my soul. I collapsed onto the stiff mattress and stared blankly at the popcorn ceiling. I have no idea how much time passed. I was violently jolted awake by my cell phone screaming on the nightstand. It was an unknown New York number. I hesitated for a second, then pressed answer. “Where are you?” A low, vibrating male voice filled the speaker. “Who is this?” I asked on pure instinct. It took me a solid five seconds to realize why the voice sent shivers down my spine. How many nights had we spent tangled in the sheets, sweating and breathless, while he whispered exactly how much he loved me right into my ear? “You know exactly who this is. Send me your location.” It wasn’t a request. It was an absolute command. My fingers clamped around the phone in terror. “I’m sorry, you have the wrong number.” I panicked, hung up the phone, and threw it across the bed. My heart was hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. After five entire years of absolute radio silence, why the hell was Logan calling me? And how on earth did he get my number? Before I flew to New York, I had done my research. Logan was currently unmarried. He only had one long-term girlfriend who had been by his side for a few years. If the media reports about his accident were true, Leo was going to be the only heir to the Sinclair empire. That was the exact reason I was so dead-set on handing Leo over to them. Growing up in the Sinclair mansion was infinitely better than growing up in a tiny apartment with me. But my situation was different. I was the ex-girlfriend who abandoned him during the absolute darkest, poorest year of his life. I didn’t have the guts to ever cross paths with him again. The next morning, I planned to sneak into the hospital, get one last glimpse of Leo from a distance, and then head straight to JFK to fly home. As I carefully crept down the VIP corridor toward his suite, I peered through the glass. Logan was sitting by the bed, wearing a razor-sharp, custom-tailored suit. He was completely focused on peeling an apple with a small knife. He didn’t look like he had aged a day, but his aura was completely different. The raw, imposing wealth radiating from him was suffocating. Looking back, it was almost comical that I genuinely believed he was just some broke kid struggling to make rent. Sitting up in the hospital bed, Leo was clearly impatient. Before Logan even finished peeling the apple, Leo leaned forward and took a massive bite right out of his hand. The two of them locked eyes and broke into identical, brilliant smiles. Watching them, my vision blurred with hot tears. Maybe… maybe this really was the absolute best ending for everyone. I looked down and aggressively wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. But right at that exact second, Logan’s head snapped up. His eyes locked onto the small window in the door, staring directly at the spot where I was standing. My heart completely stopped. I violently threw myself backward, flattening my spine against the wall. I held my breath, praying to God I moved fast enough. A few seconds later, the bright sound of Leo’s laughter echoed from inside the room again. 5 It was blatantly obvious that Logan adored the boy. That was all I needed to know. I could finally breathe. I pulled out my phone and pulled up the airline app, looking for the earliest flight back to Chicago. I desperately needed to keep my brain occupied. If I stopped moving, the crushing reality of what I had just done would drown me. But as I stared at the screen, walking down the crowded hospital corridor, the words were just a blurry mess. Before I realized what was happening, I slammed hard into someone walking the opposite way. “Oh! Miss, are you alright?” A soft, polite voice asked. I snapped my head up and froze. If my memory of the tabloid articles was correct, the woman standing right in front of me was Chloe, Logan’s long-term girlfriend. I panicked and waved my hands frantically. “I’m fine! I’m so sorry, totally my fault.” I turned to sprint away, but Chloe gently grabbed my arm. “I saw you walking from down the hall. I just wanted to ask, is the pediatric VIP wing in that direction?” I went completely rigid. She was going to the pediatric wing. She was going to see Leo. I couldn’t help but stare at her. Chloe was undeniably stunning. But she had a very soft, gentle, entirely non-threatening beauty. In one hand, she held an absurdly expensive basket of imported fruit. In the other, a massive, limited-edition Lego set. That was why she couldn’t brace herself when I completely bulldozed into her. I opened my mouth, trying to figure out how to answer her, when a chillingly familiar voice echoed from down the hall. “Chloe.” My spine instantly turned to ice. Chloe looked up, her face breaking into a bright smile. She stepped past me, walking toward Logan. “This hospital is an absolute maze! I was walking in circles for ten minutes.” Logan gave a low, noncommittal hum. His eyes darted past her. “Who were you talking to?” I don’t know if I was just being paranoid, but it felt like a sniper’s laser was burning a hole right between my shoulder blades. Chloe brushed it off casually. “Oh, just a stranger. We accidentally bumped into each other.” A wave of relief washed over me. I turned my head down, desperate to escape. But then Logan’s voice cracked through the hallway like a whip. “You. Turn around.” There was zero doubt in my mind. He was talking directly to me. Chloe instantly picked up on the tension. She reached out, lightly touching his arm. “Logan, what are you doing? She’s just a stranger. And she didn’t hurt me, I promise. Just let it go, don’t make a scene.” Ah. So Logan was just being fiercely protective of his girlfriend. I couldn’t help but find my own panic slightly pathetic. It had been five years. No one stays stuck in the past forever. What the hell was I so terrified of? I took a deep breath, slowly turned around, and looked directly at Chloe. “I am so sorry again for bumping into you.” For the entire agonizing ten seconds it took me to apologize, Logan’s eyes were locked onto my face like a predator. He didn’t say a single word. 6 The second I walked out of the hospital sliding doors, I booked it straight to the airport. Sitting in the back of the cab, Logan’s terrifying, dead-eyed stare played on a loop in my head. I remembered back to five years ago. His startup had completely collapsed, and aggressive debt collectors had actually tracked down our apartment. I emptied my savings account, withdrew the last fifteen thousand dollars I had to my name, and shoved it into his hands so he could pay off the worst of the sharks. Logan had looked at me with that exact same intensity. Then, he had pulled me into a crushing hug. “Baby, I can’t take your money. I promise you, I swear to God, I am going to make it.” “The second I make it, I am going to put a ring on your finger.” At the time, I didn’t think he was just feeding me empty promises. When we first met, if you combined both our bank accounts, we wouldn’t even break two hundred bucks. We rented a tiny, miserable one-bedroom apartment in a bad neighborhood. Rent was eight hundred a month. I took the bedroom and paid five hundred. He slept on a thrift store couch in the living room and paid three hundred. We split the utilities right down the middle. In the beginning, neither of us ever imagined we would end up falling in love. Logan had an absolutely relentless drive. He regularly worked on his laptop until three in the morning. One night, I came home late from drinks with some girlfriends and found him still hunched over his glowing screen. I casually held up a styrofoam box. “I brought back some leftover wings. You want them?” Logan practically launched himself out of his chair. “Yes!” We sat on the cheap carpet, eating cold wings, and talked for hours. That was the night I found out he had blown up his relationship with his wealthy family and walked out, swearing he wouldn’t return until he had built an empire with his own two hands. Not wanting to kill his vibe, I offered some generic encouragement. “With how hard you grind, as long as you find the right market, you’re guaranteed to succeed.” Logan looked at me, and I swear there were literal stars in his eyes. Maybe it was because I was the only person who offered him genuine support and a lifeline during the absolute darkest chapter of his life. But as soon as his startup finally gained a little traction, he asked me out. We stayed in that same miserable apartment. Except we weren’t splitting the rooms anymore. We were both sleeping in the bedroom. And Logan quietly took over the entire rent payment. It felt like our lives were slowly, steadily climbing toward the light. And then reality hit us with a baseball bat. Logan spent every waking hour drowning in a sea of toxic debt. He was barely coming home. And right at the absolute peak of the crisis, I found out I was pregnant. At first, I didn’t have the guts to tell him. I just wanted to help him survive the immediate financial bloodbath. But then, one afternoon, I came home early and overheard him on a phone call. “What is going on between me and Serena is none of your damn business. Stop interfering in my life, okay?” “Relax. Dating is one thing. When it comes time to actually pick a wife, I will reconsider my options.” I was Serena. I was so incredibly furious I saw red. I thought to myself, This guy is literally bankrupt and running from loan sharks, and he still has the audacity to act like a billionaire playboy? Did he honestly think every woman on earth was going to orbit around his massive ego? I was genuinely terrified that if I stayed with him, I would end up starving to death in a gutter. So, I made the split-second decision to dump him. Just to twist the knife, I left a handwritten note on the kitchen counter. I look at you and I see absolutely zero future. We’re done. I’m sure you understand. After all, I have the right to chase someone who can actually provide for me. Then, I blocked his number, blocked him on every social media platform, and vanished. It wasn’t until I was sitting on the Amtrak train halfway back to my hometown that I remembered one crucial detail. I was still carrying Logan’s baby. 7 For a brief, insane moment, I considered turning around, marching back to the apartment, screaming in his face, and telling him about the pregnancy. But then I remembered the absolute garbage he spewed on that phone call. I realized going back would just be volunteering for more humiliation. He never, for a single second, envisioned a future with me. As for the baby… Since he was already here, I decided to just let fate run its course. Over the years, I occasionally heard whispers about Logan through the grapevine. Apparently, his company had miraculously risen from the ashes. He paid off all his debt and was expanding aggressively. I immediately blocked the friend who told me. I had zero interest in hearing about his meteoric rise. Later, after I gave birth to Leo alone, my mom was furious. She complained constantly. But the very first time Leo giggled and reached for her face, my mom’s harsh voice melted into absolute honey. Ever since my dad passed away, my mom had been entirely hollow. It felt like Leo finally gave her a reason to wake up in the morning. She took care of the baby, and I worked double shifts. The days bled together. It was exhausting, but it was peaceful. Until Leo caught a “bad cold” that wouldn’t go away, and that peace was entirely obliterated. Sometimes, late at night, I honestly wondered if I had committed some horrific atrocity in a past life. Because every single time I thought my life was finally stabilizing, the universe would violently smash a brick into my face. … Snapping back to reality, I realized my face was completely drenched in tears. Great. How the hell am I going to explain this to my mom when I get home? My flight wasn’t until 2:00 PM. I still had an hour to kill sitting at the gate. Right on cue, my phone vibrated with a FaceTime call from my mom. Every instinct in my body screamed to decline it. But my mom is relentless. If I didn’t answer, she would call the airport police and report me missing. Defeated, I swiped the green button. “Where is my Leo?” The very first words out of her mouth. She didn’t even say hello. I rubbed my nose, trying to sound casual. “He’s right here, playing.” “Show him to me.” I purposefully jerked the camera toward the empty seat next to me. “He’s throwing a fit. He doesn’t want to be on camera.” My mom wasn’t an idiot. “Serena, are you at an airport gate? I thought you were checking him in for surgery! Why are you coming back so fast?” “Point the damn camera at Leo right now. I just want to say hi.” I stared at the screen, entirely frozen. “Serena! What the hell kind of game are you playing?” “Are you completely ignoring your mother now?!” Honestly, I couldn’t even process what my mom was yelling anymore. Because staring back at me on my phone screen, hovering just inches behind my right shoulder, was Logan’s face. He was standing right behind me. My mom was still screaming through the speaker. “Serena! If anything happens to my grandson, I swear to God I will end you!” “Mom, I gotta go!” In a blind panic, I jammed my thumb onto the red end-call button. I forced myself to take a shallow breath, plastered on a neutral face, and slowly turned around. “Can I help you?” Considering he currently had physical custody of my child, I couldn’t exactly pretend I had never met the guy. Logan glared down at me, his jaw clenched so tight I thought his teeth would shatter. “Serena. You are just as completely heartless as you were five years ago. First you abandon me, and now you are throwing your own son in the trash?” What do you mean, I abandoned him?! I shot to my feet, my own anger flaring up. “Get your story straight! I didn’t abandon you, you completely betrayed me first!” And wait—he already knew Leo was my biological son. Well, obviously. Unless he suffered a traumatic brain injury in that car crash, any idiot could do the math. Logan scowled, his dark eyes swirling with something I couldn’t read. I pushed forward. “Look, if you actually feel sorry for Leo, then once he recovers from the surgery, can I please come back and get him?” “Not a chance in hell.” Exactly as I predicted. The absolute second the Sinclair family knew this boy existed, my chances of ever getting him back dropped to zero. “Fine. Then take good care of him. I will make sure I never show my face to him again.” Logan was going to marry a billionaire heiress. Leo was going to have a wealthy, connected stepmother. My presence would only be a toxic, humiliating complication for their perfect family.

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After Grayson Cole broke off our engagement, he immediately started pursuing his young secretary. That secretary, however, had a backbone. She repeatedly rebuffed his advances, claiming she would never bow to money. In the end, though, Grayson bought his way into her heart. The real irony? The woman then gloated to the world, proclaiming that what she truly enjoyed was this kind of pure, simple love. Now, only a year later, word is that their fairy tale has devolved into a bitter war. When I heard the news, I pulled up a chair, grabbed some popcorn, and settled in for the show. 1 “Mr. Cole took a woman home last night.” I didn’t pay much attention when my assistant told me. It wasn’t the first time, after all. “To the house at Riverside Manor.” I snapped the file in my hands shut, my brow furrowing. My engagement to Grayson had been a business merger, and the villa at Riverside Manor was meant to be our marital home. The plan had been to move in after the wedding. I could accept that he didn’t love me. I could even accept him having other women. But I could not accept him so blatantly disrespecting me. I rubbed my temples. “Take me to Cole Corp.” The receptionist saw me and was about to call up to Grayson’s office, but I stopped her. “I want it to be a surprise.” She understood immediately, gesturing for me to go ahead. I took the private elevator straight to the 28th floor. Pushing the door open, I was greeted by quite a scene. Grayson had a woman pinned against the wall. Her face was pale, her expression one of defiant resistance. What was this? Some kind of toxic romance novel fantasy? The girl saw me and shoved the man away. She ran over to me, tears streaming down her face, her voice a mix of hurt and warning. “Ms. Shaw, you need to control your fiancé. I’m not just a prop in one of your rich people games.” Well now, that was a spicy little line. But she was threatening the wrong person. “Then why not just quit?” I asked calmly. “Stay far away from us rich people.” She blinked, stunned, then clenched her fists. “I earned this job with my skills. I haven’t done anything wrong. Why should I be the one to leave?” Stubborn, I’ll give her that. I frowned slightly. “Fine. In that case, I’ll have Mr. Cole reassign you. You just can’t be his secretary anymore.” She was still not satisfied. “I’m a good secretary. Why should I be moved? You wealthy people love to abuse your power.” Right. So now being wealthy was our original sin. Grayson had heard enough. He stepped forward, putting himself between us. “Victoria, stop bullying her,” he said, his voice low and protective. “Anna is too pure-hearted to play your games.” So, her name was Anna. Pure-hearted? Or just simple-minded? Grayson used the excuse to dismiss Anna, then turned to me. “What did you want?” I looked at the man before me—tall, handsome, the picture of a perfect catch—and got straight to the point. “Did you take a woman to our house at Riverside?” He didn’t flinch. Instead, he pulled out a checkbook. “Our engagement is off,” he said flatly. “This is your compensation.” I took the check he wrote and glanced at it. A very generous three hundred million. I was a little curious. “Are you sure this woman is what you really want?” Grayson met my gaze, a strange light in his eyes. “I want a wife. A safe harbor. Not someone who comes home after a day of negotiating deals only to start negotiating our personal interests.” “My wife doesn’t need to be strong. I’m strong enough for both of us.” Ah, so that’s where Anna’s strength came in. “Right. I get it.” I pocketed the check and walked away without a second thought. I’d been eyeing the multi-billion South Hill development project, and thanks to Grayson’s friendly contribution, funding was no longer an issue. See? While other women were trapped in some CEO’s twisted power fantasy, I was already soaring. I ran into Anna in the hallway, carrying a tray of coffee. She saw me and immediately stood taller, her chin held high. “Ms. Shaw, I know you look down on love between people like us, who aren’t rich.” “But I’m telling you, if I love someone, it has absolutely nothing to do with whether or not he has money.” Her little speech just left me confused. So… did she like Grayson or not? 2 Fueled by the superpower of cash, Anna was eventually won over. Six months later, they held their wedding of the century at a castle in France. The guest list was a who’s who of high society, and the event dominated the headlines for weeks. Even a year later, people still talked about it with envy. But for those of us on the inside, it was a different story. I ran into Grayson at a birthday gala. He came over with a glass of champagne, trying to make small talk. As he reminisced about our past, I kept my responses polite but distant. He was alone. No Anna in sight. “Trouble in paradise, Mr. Cole? Making you miss your ex?” It was meant as a joke, but his expression turned serious. “What if I said yes? Could we start over?” My face remained a placid lake. I looked at him coolly. “You went to great lengths to win her over. Are you telling me you’re already bored?” A flicker of embarrassment crossed his face. I could smell the gossip, but I had no desire to get tangled up with him again, so I resisted the urge to ask for details. I remembered how Grayson had bought out every billboard in the city to declare his love. Subway stations, office lobbies, building light shows—all broadcasting their “pure” romance. It reeked of money, but when a reporter interviewed Anna, she had bashfully claimed, “I just love this kind of simple, down-to-earth affection. I don’t need fancy cars or mansions, as long as he loves me with all his heart.” Right. My mistake. She was wrong about one thing, though. I wasn’t the one looking down on their love. I was just another prop in their game. After the gala, Grayson tried to add me back on social media. I gave him my assistant’s contact info. “If you need something, contact my assistant. He’ll pass it on.” Just because the marriage was off didn’t mean the business had to be. The next day, in a torrential downpour, Anna threw herself in front of my car. She looked like a drowned rat. I took her to a nearby cafe and had my assistant call Grayson. Anna’s jaw was set stubbornly. “Don’t call him. I don’t want to see him.” So they’d had a fight. “You must be feeling pretty smug right now, huh?” she muttered, staring down at her hands. “What would I have to be smug about?” This was ridiculous. Her head snapped up, and she glared at me. “Why are you trying to seduce him? Don’t tell me you’re still not over him.” I scoffed. “I swear, I haven’t even had his number since we broke up.” She didn’t believe me. She pulled out her phone and showed me a video she’d taken the night before. In it, Grayson was drunk, slouched on a sofa, muttering to himself. “Victoria, I can’t forget you. Let’s start over, please.” “Victoria, I was wrong. You’re the one I really love.” I couldn’t listen to any more of it and reached over to stop the video. “As you can hear, he’s the one who’s not over me. I don’t do leftovers.” Anna pushed her luck. “Then promise me you’ll stay away from him from now on.” I leaned back in my chair and flatly refused. “Can’t promise that. We’ll likely have professional dealings.” Before I could react, she threw her cup of coffee in my face. The warm liquid streamed down my cheeks. The cafe erupted in gasps. Someone was already recording on their phone. I pressed my tongue against the inside of my cheek, already calculating how much I was going to bill Grayson for this. 3 Tonight’s headline: #Ex-Fiancée of Cole Corp CEO Exposed as Homewrecker, Confronted by Wife. #Wedding of the Century a Joke as Grayson Cole Cheats. The accompanying photo was of me, coffee dripping down my face, an infuriatingly defiant smirk on my lips. Grayson showed up at my office uninvited. He sat across from me, radiating guilt and self-loathing. The perfect picture of a cheating husband. “Name your price.” I had to admit, dealing with people who spoke my language was much easier. I played coy. “What do you mean?” He chuckled humorlessly. “I know you, Victoria. You always get your pound of flesh. You didn’t go after Anna yesterday because you knew you could get something better from me.” Fine. No more games. “The Crestfall property development. I want in.” “I can give you half.” “Sixty percent.” “Done.” A moment of silence passed, then his clear, low voice filled the space. “Victoria, did you ever love me?”

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At dinner, my 5-year-old son ate the last fried chicken piece—the one my stepdaughter always claimed. My wife immediately removed me from the family group chat for the 28th time, her voice icy: “Don’t even ask to rejoin until you teach your son to respect his sister.” What stung more was seeing her ex-husband’s sarcastic Instagram story minutes later: “Five years married, still treated like a stray dog. Guess who?” My boy was crying hysterically, fingers down his throat, trying to gag up the piece to give it back. In that moment, I snapped awake. I set my fork down, held my trembling son, and said with certainty, “If there’s no room for us here, we’re leaving.” Weeks earlier, he’d asked if I could divorce Mommy. When I asked why, he said in his small voice, “I don’t think Mommy loves us. She only loves Harper and Harper’s dad.” He went on, recalling how my wife used her Christmas bonus for them instead of his piano lessons, and gave away my birthday watch after Harper threw a fit. “She always kicks you out of the chat. You always have to beg to come back.” Then he broke me: “If you’re staying just for me, I’d rather not be your kid. I just want you happy and free.” Tears fell before he finished. This time, I was truly done. I was walking away. 1 Pamela froze for two seconds, her fork hovering in the air. “What did you just say?” I held my son tight against my chest. My voice was dangerously quiet. “I said, I want a divorce.” My ten-year-old stepdaughter, Harper, lit up. She dropped her fork onto her plate with a loud clatter. “Mom, do it! Let him leave! Then you and Dad can finally get back together.” Pamela shot her a warning glare. “Eat your dinner.” Harper rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t hide her excited smirk. She muttered under her breath, “It’s true anyway. Once the loser leaves, my real dad can come home.” The loser. I had been married to Pamela for five years. Not once had Harper ever called me “Dad.” She barely even called me by my name. She usually just yelled “Hey” or called me “the loser.” And Pamela never corrected her. She acted completely deaf to it. Pamela leaned back in her dining chair, studying me. Her tone softened into something patronizing. “Owen, what kind of tantrum are you throwing now? Is this seriously just because I kicked you out of the group chat?” I didn’t answer. She let out a heavy sigh, looking at me like I was an unreasonable toddler. “Look at the situation and tell me who is in the wrong here.” Finn shrank against my chest, his little fists gripping my shirt tightly. Pamela pointed at him. “He knows Harper loves the fried chicken drumsticks, but he still fought her for it. As a father, you should be teaching him to yield to his older sister, not coddling him.” “All I did was tell you to discipline him, and now you are threatening me with a divorce?” I stared at the single, half-eaten drumstick sitting on Finn’s plate, and my heart turned to lead. Harper liked fried chicken, which meant she was entitled to the entire bucket. Just a few minutes ago, there was exactly one piece left. Harper had pushed her plate away and loudly announced she was stuffed. Only then did Finn dare to reach for it. He had barely taken a single bite before Harper snatched her fork back up and screamed, “I wanted to eat that! Why are you stealing my food?!” Pamela had been scrolling through her phone. She glanced up, didn’t ask a single question, and instantly removed me from the family chat. It was the twenty-eighth time. Seeing my silence, Pamela assumed she had won the argument. Her tone grew sharper. “Harper isn’t your biological daughter, which means you should be going out of your way to treat her better. But what do you do? You encourage Finn to steal food right off her plate.” “If you cared about Harper even half as much as you care about Finn, I wouldn’t have had to do that tonight.” “I am just trying to remind you to be fair. Stop playing favorites.” Playing favorites? My mind flashed back to when we first got married. Harper was five. She suffered from terrible night terrors, waking up screaming and crying for her real dad. I was the one who paced the living room floor, holding her against my shoulder, rocking her back to sleep night after night. When Finn was born, I was terrified Harper would feel left out, so I spoiled her even more. When she spiked a 103-degree fever in the middle of the night and Pamela was out of town on a business trip, her biological father, Trent, refused to answer his phone. I was the one who held her in the emergency room waiting area until dawn. Finn was barely a year old at the time. I had to dump him at a neighbor’s house. When I picked him up the next morning, he had cried so hard he lost his voice. Yet, in their eyes, I was just a biased, toxic stepdad. Pamela looked at me, her voice softening just a fraction. “Alright, enough drama.” “Make Finn apologize to Harper. Have him promise he won’t do it again. I’ll monitor his behavior for a few days, and if he acts right, I’ll add you back to the chat.” I stared into her eyes. These were the same deep, beautiful eyes that made me fall for her on our very first blind date. When I found out she was a divorced mother of one, my own father had grabbed my arm and begged me to walk away. “Owen, what are you doing? She has a kid, and her ex-husband is still hovering around. If you marry her, you’ll just be a punching bag for all their baggage.” I refused to listen. I naively believed that if I was just kind enough, patient enough, and loved them hard enough, I could thaw her heart and become a real part of this family. But five years had passed. I was still just an outsider who could be deleted from the family group chat at the drop of a hat. “Pamela, in your heart, do you even consider me family?” She blinked, clearly caught off guard. I kept going. “If I am your family, why is there no space for me in a stupid text thread?” Her brow furrowed, a flash of genuine confusion crossing her face. “Everything has been perfectly fine. Whenever you fix your attitude, I always invite you back in, don’t I?” Perfectly fine? Yes, perfectly fine because every single time, I swallowed my pride and apologized. I did it because I loved her. I did it because I desperately wanted to belong. And later, I did it because Finn was too young, and I wanted him to grow up in a complete home. But now, I was exhausted down to my bones. “Twenty-eight times. Every time I don’t perfectly cater to Harper’s mood, or whenever I upset your ex-husband, you kick me out without asking a single question.” “But Trent divorced you six years ago, and he has never been kicked out of that chat.” “Pamela, who is actually your husband?” 2 The color drained from her face. “Are you really going to start being insanely jealous over nothing again? Trent is Harper’s biological father. He stays in the chat so we can easily communicate about our daughter.” Communicate? I let out a bitter, hollow laugh. My eyes burned. “And what about me? Every time you kick me out, I have to completely humiliate myself. I have to suck up to Trent, and I have to beg Harper for forgiveness, just so you’ll bestow the honor of adding me back.” “Pamela, have you ever, for a single second, considered how that makes me feel?” She fell silent. Suddenly, Finn wriggled out of my arms and sprinted to the kitchen trash can. “Mommy, don’t be mad at Daddy! It’s my fault! I’ll give the chicken back to Harper…” As he spoke, he shoved his fingers deep into his mouth, gagging violently over the plastic bin. I lunged forward and grabbed his hands. “Finn! Finn, stop! Do not do that, it’s not your fault!” He collapsed against my chest, sobbing so hard he couldn’t catch his breath, his little face flushed crimson. Harper pointed at him from the dining table and burst out laughing. “Mom, look! I told you he was a manipulative little brat. The loser taught him how to play the victim perfectly.” Pamela didn’t even stand up. She just sat there, her eyebrows pulled together in annoyance. “Look at this. This is because you baby him. He’s five years old and he already knows how to emotionally blackmail adults.” As a mother, she didn’t ask if Finn was choking. She didn’t ask if he was okay. I suddenly remembered last winter. Harper got into a scuffle on the playground and scraped her knee. Pamela got the call at work, burst into tears, abandoned a major client meeting, and drove like a maniac to the school just to carry Harper to urgent care. A month later, Harper purposely tripped Finn in our living room. His forehead slammed into the corner of the glass coffee table. Blood poured down his face, soaking his shirt. Pamela barely glanced up from her laptop. “He’s fine. Kids bump into things all the time.” I was the one who drove a screaming, bleeding Finn to the hospital alone. He needed four stitches. He cried the entire time. When we got home, Pamela didn’t ask how he was. She just accused me of being dramatic and seeking attention. Thinking about that day, I picked Finn up and stood tall. Pamela assumed I was finally backing down. She leaned back in her chair. “Take him to his room and calm him down. When he stops screaming, come back out, clear the table, load the dishwasher, and help Harper with her math homework.” I didn’t say a single word. I just carried Finn to his bedroom. As I shut the door behind us, I heard Harper’s gloating voice echo through the hall. “Mom, he is totally faking it. He’s just waiting for you to go in there and beg him. My dad told me Owen is a manipulative snake.” Pamela sounded irritated. “Let him throw his little fit. Ignore him and he’ll snap out of it.” A few minutes later, I heard the familiar chime of a FaceTime call connecting in the living room. Harper had called her grandparents. She immediately started whining. “Grandma! The loser is acting crazy again.” “His bratty kid stole my food, and when Mom yelled at him, he threw a massive tantrum and locked himself in the bedroom. He won’t even clean the kitchen! He said he wants a divorce.” My father-in-law scoffed loudly through the phone speaker. “That guy is getting more pathetic by the day.” Then, Trent’s voice echoed from the screen. He must have been at their house. “Come on, guys, don’t be too hard on Owen. I’m sure he has his own insecurities. I just feel so terrible for my little Harper…” My mother-in-law immediately chimed in. “What insecurities? The man can’t even cook a decent meal. Harper is our precious angel. She is a growing girl. Why should she have to walk on eggshells just to eat a piece of chicken in her own house?” “He’s completely biased. He only cares about his own blood.” “Things were so much better when you were still around, Trent…” Harper sounded incredibly smug. “Exactly, Grandma! That loser treats me like garbage. He is nothing like my real dad. My dad actually loves me.” “Mom, when are you going to divorce him? Dad is literally waiting to marry you again.” Trent chuckled softly. “Harper, sweetie, don’t say that. Your mom is a married woman.” “He’s not a real husband! I’ll never accept him!” Pamela murmured something low. I couldn’t make out the words. I sat on the edge of the bed, holding Finn against my chest, feeling an absolute, suffocating wasteland inside my soul. Five years. I had bled myself dry trying to take care of every single person in this family. When Pamela’s mother threw out her back, I spent hours every day making homemade bone broth and riding the subway across the city just to deliver it to her while it was hot. When her father had a heart attack and was hospitalized, Pamela was “too stressed” to deal with it. I took all my vacation days and slept in a hard plastic chair beside his hospital bed for a week, so exhausted I was hallucinating. And in return? I didn’t get a single word of gratitude. Meanwhile, Trent had been divorced from Pamela for six years, and her parents still lovingly treated him like a son. I closed my eyes, refusing to listen to the FaceTime call anymore. Finn gently tugged at my collar. “Daddy, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have eaten the chicken…” I looked down at his terrified, tear-streaked face, and my heart physically ached. “Finn, Daddy is going to take you away from here. Is that okay?” He blinked his swollen eyes. “To where?” “To a place where you can eat all the fried chicken you want, and nobody will ever yell at you.” He thought about it for a second, then whispered, “Is Mommy coming?” “Do you want Mommy to come?” He shook his head violently and buried his face in my neck. “Mommy only loves Harper. She doesn’t like me at all.” I hugged him fiercely. “Okay. Then Mommy isn’t coming. It’s just going to be you and me.” 3 That night, Pamela didn’t come into the master bedroom. It was her standard playbook. She was giving me the silent treatment, waiting for me to crack and apologize. But she didn’t realize that after twenty-eight times, I was completely done punishing myself and my son for her ego. The next morning, my alarm went off at 6:00 AM sharp. Normally, I would jump out of bed, cook a full breakfast, iron Pamela’s blouse and Harper’s uniform, and then gently wake them up. I would serve them, clean up their dishes, and then drive Harper to school. Today, I reached over, turned off the alarm, pulled the blanket over Finn, and went back to sleep. When I woke up again, I checked my phone. It was 8:40 AM. The apartment was dead silent. A few minutes later, panicked, heavy footsteps pounded down the hallway. The bedroom door flew open. Pamela stood there, her hair a tangled mess, frantically trying to zip up her pencil skirt. “Why didn’t you wake us up?!” Harper poked her head around Pamela’s hip, her face twisted in fury. “This is all your fault! I’m going to be late for homeroom and my teacher is going to scream at me!” Pamela stormed into the room, her face dark with anger. “You didn’t even make breakfast? Do you have any idea what time it is?” I didn’t get out of bed. I just gently patted Finn’s back as he stirred from the shouting. Ignored, Pamela’s scowl deepened. “Are you seriously still throwing a fit? Over a piece of chicken? Really?” “Fine! I’ll add you back to the chat, okay? Is that what you want?” She snatched her phone from her pocket, tapped the screen a few times, and shoved it in my face. “There. Happy now? Get up and make us something to eat!” I didn’t look at her. I picked up my own phone from the nightstand, opened the family chat, and pressed “Leave Group.” Then, I went to her contact and hit “Block.” Pamela’s face instantly dropped. Harper kept whining loudly. “Mom, I am starving! We have to go right now!” Pamela glared at me, turned on her heel, and slammed the bedroom door so hard the walls shook. A few minutes later, I heard the chaotic clatter of pots and pans in the kitchen, followed by Harper complaining about how disgusting the food tasted. A moment later, Pamela shoved the bedroom door open again. “Harper has a parent-teacher showcase at school today. I just got an email from my boss, there’s a crisis at the office and I have to go in. You need to go to her school.” “No,” I replied flatly. “Call her real dad. I have plans today.” Her expression turned venomous. “Plans? What kind of plans could you possibly have?” I threw off the covers and started digging through the dresser for Finn’s clothes. “I have an appointment with a divorce lawyer.” She froze. The anger melted into genuine shock. “Owen, have you lost your mind? You are seriously dragging us toward a divorce over a minor argument?” I completely ignored her and focused on getting Finn dressed. Harper yelled from the front door. Pamela stared at me for three long seconds. “You want to play hardball? Fine. Let’s see how long you can keep this pathetic act up.” She spun around and dragged Harper out the door. I made Finn a quiet breakfast, called into work to use a personal day, and took him straight to a lawyer friend’s office downtown. While Finn played with a box of Lego in the lobby, I sat in the office and had my friend draft an airtight divorce agreement. Just as we walked out of the law firm into the afternoon sun, my phone buzzed. It was Pamela. I had unblocked her just in case of emergencies. I answered, and her voice came through shrill and frantic. “Harper got hurt at school! You need to get to the hospital right now!” “What happened?” “The parent showcase! Because no one was there, she was running around the bleachers by herself, fell, and severely injured her leg! They took her to the ER. I am locked in a conference room and cannot leave. Get over there now!” I didn’t miss a beat. “Tell Trent to go. I am not her father.” Dead silence on the other end of the line. Then, her voice exploded, practically shattering the speaker. “Owen! What the hell is wrong with you?! If you had just gone to the school like I told you to, she never would have fallen! This is your fault, and you won’t even go check on her?!” Standing under the bright sunlight, a cold, empty laugh escaped my throat. “Pamela, you spent five years telling me I don’t care enough about her. Since I am already convicted of the crime, I figured I might as well show you what not caring actually looks like.” I hung up the phone. I looked down at my son. “Finn, you want to go to the amusement park?”

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When I opened my eyes again, I was five years old, on the very day my birth parents brought me back to the Carrington estate. Alistair Carrington, my brother, blocked their path, his finger jabbing toward my face. “Dad, Mom, I made a mistake,” he said, his voice laced with ice. “She isn’t my sister.” Seeing the undisguised disgust on his face, I understood instantly. Like me, he had been reborn with the memories of our past life. Disappointment washed over my parents’ faces. They turned and walked away without a backward glance. Alistair pressed a hard candy into my palm, the cellophane crinkling in the tense silence. “The Carringtons only need one daughter, and that’s Isabelle,” he said, his voice flat. “Your kidney couldn’t even save her life. There’s no reason for you to be here.” Flashes of my previous life seared through my mind: at eighteen, I donated a kidney to the family’s beloved adopted daughter, Isabelle, who was suffering from renal failure. She died from organ rejection anyway. Before I had even fully recovered from the surgery, the Carringtons threw me out. Soon after, my surgical wound became severely infected. I died alone on the streets. … My fist clenched around the candy, its sharp edges digging into my palm. He was right. In our past life, my only purpose to him was as a spare blood bank and organ bank for Isabelle. Since my kidney had failed to save her, and she had died regardless, my useless self had no place in their family this time around. I smiled, but a tear escaped and rolled down my cheek. I wiped it away fiercely, telling myself that the girl from that life, the one who craved their love, was dead. The one living now was me. I turned and walked back to a quiet corner of the orphanage. Not long after, the purr of an expensive engine broke the silence as a sleek black Bentley glided to a stop at the curb. The director scurried out, ushering in an elderly gentleman with silver hair. The orphanage erupted. Children flocked around him like a chattering of sparrows, all vying for his attention. “Hello, Grandpa!” “Grandpa, I can sing for you!” “Grandpa, look at my drawing!” Only I remained in my inconspicuous corner, an outsider to the frenzy. The old man, Mr. Preston, noticed me. He gently moved through the crowd, leaning on his cane as he made his way toward me. “Little one, why are you all by yourself over here? Don’t they like you?” I shook my head and looked up, offering him the candy, now warm from my tight grip. “For you, Grandpa.” I forced a calm maturity into my voice, one far beyond my years. He paused, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. He took the candy, unwrapped it, and popped it into his mouth, a gentle smile spreading across his face. “Mm, it’s very sweet.” He studied me for a long moment. “What’s your name?” “The director calls me Ava.” “Ava…” he repeated, nodding slowly. “Would you like to come home with me? To be my granddaughter?” The orphanage fell silent. Every child’s gaze, sharp with envy, was fixed on me. Without a shred of hesitation, I nodded firmly. “Yes.” He let out a hearty laugh that boomed through the quiet hall. “Good! Excellent! From this day forward, your name is Ava Preston.” He took my hand, his palm warm and dry. “Ava, it means life, a precious thing. I want you, my child, to become a priceless gem.” I understood the weight of his words, the hope he was placing in me. In that moment, I squeezed his hand back, hard. I became the cherished jewel of the Preston family. Mr. Preston, my new grandfather, treated me like a treasure. He taught me to read and write himself, and shared with me his wisdom on life and character. His own children, my new aunts and uncles, though busy, never failed to bring me fascinating gifts and showered me with genuine affection. But the one who doted on me most was my new brother, Noah, who was ten years my senior. The first time he saw me, a gentle smile broke through his cool, handsome features. “This is our little princess,” he’d declared. “No one gets to hurt her.” It became his mantra. Wrapped in so much love, the scars of my past life began to fade. I threw myself into my studies, consistently ranking first from elementary school through high school. My room overflowed with trophies and certificates from countless competitions. When it came time for college, I chose to study medicine without a second thought. I knew Isabelle’s illness was the unending ache in the heart of the Carrington family. It was also the sword that had once hung over my own head. Twenty years later, I had become one of the country’s youngest and most renowned physicians and medical researchers. Life was peaceful and fulfilling. I believed the Carringtons had vanished from my life forever. Until the day my assistant knocked on my office door. “Dr. Preston, there’s a Mr. Alistair Carrington here to see you. He specifically requested our most expensive consultation to have you see his sister.” The name sent an involuntary jolt through my heart. I took a deep breath, pushing down the surge of emotion, and kept my voice perfectly even. “Send him in.” A tall man in a tailored suit walked in. The boyishness of his youth had sharpened into a handsome, brooding intensity. The moment Alistair saw me, he froze. His deep-set eyes were wide with shock and disbelief. He could never have imagined that the medical expert he had gone to such lengths to find was the sister he had cast away twenty years ago. It took him a long moment to find his voice. When he did, it was thick with suspicion. “You’re Dr. Preston?” I simply nodded. “Mr. Carrington, please have a seat. Tell me about your sister’s condition.” He ignored my invitation, his eyes still scanning me critically. “Are you really a doctor? What are the chances you can actually cure my sister?” His tone suggested I was a fraud, a charlatan. My assistant, standing beside me, could barely contain her indignation. “Sir, Dr. Preston is the leading expert at this hospital. Her time is extremely valuable…” I looked at Alistair, a faint, almost imperceptible smile touching my lips. “It seems you don’t trust my professional capabilities, Mr. Carrington.” “In that case, let’s cancel this consultation.” “Chloe, show the gentleman out.” Alistair’s face darkened instantly. He clenched his jaw, but in the end, he turned and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. My assistant stomped her foot in frustration. “Dr. Preston, that man is so rude! Who does he think he is?” I just gave a nonchalant shrug. “It’s fine. He’s just another patient.” To me, it was nothing more than a minor interruption. My life had long since moved on from them. After work, as I was leaving the research building, Alistair appeared, blocking my path. His expression was a dark, complicated storm. My brows furrowed. “Can I help you?” He stared at me, his gaze intense. After a long silence, he finally ground out the words. “I’m warning you.” “I don’t care who you are now. You will not harm Isabelle.” I almost laughed out loud. Twenty years ago, he was the one who cruelly stopped me from being a Carrington, and now here he was, calling me by that name again, warning me not to hurt the very person he chose over me. As if I would waste a single second of my life on her. I looked at him as if he were a raving lunatic. “Mr. Carrington, my last name is Preston. Ava Preston. Please get it right.” “Furthermore, I don’t know you, and I certainly don’t know your sister. As a doctor, my job is to save lives, not to harm them. So why, exactly, would I want to hurt a complete stranger?” Alistair was taken aback, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. “You don’t remember me?” He seemed unable to accept it, his voice rising. “Twenty years ago! At the orphanage! I was the one who stopped my parents…” He trailed off, the words catching in his throat, as if even he found his past actions shameful. Seeing his discomfort, a chilling coldness settled in my heart. Of course, I remembered. I remembered every look of disgust, every hateful word. I remembered how he personally pushed me away, shattering every fantasy I ever had about family. But I would pretend. I feigned a moment of deep thought, then let my expression clear into one of dawning realization. “Ohhh,” I drew out the sound. “So it was you.”

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