Category: English

My best friend and I both married into the Thorne family, the undisputed rulers of our city. I married the family’s heir apparent, the formidable Joseph Thorne. She married the nation’s heartthrob, the award-winning actor, Parker Thorne. One afternoon, she stared at a paparazzi photo of Parker having dinner with his first love, a beautiful ingenue named Claire. With a pained expression, she turned to me. “Are you in? “Once we’re divorced, we can each get a couple of male models and travel the world.” I stared at the press release announcing Claire as the new face of Thorne Industries. I hardened my heart. “I’m in! “But the models have to be good… better than Joseph in bed!” As the words left my mouth, a shadow fell over me. Joseph’s voice was cool and dangerous. “Darling,” he murmured, “are you sure you can find anyone better?” 1 Merrin and I were sitting side-by-side on the sprawling sofa, scrolling through our phones. Suddenly, her finger froze on the screen. I leaned over to look. Oh, boy. A notorious gossip site had snapped a picture of her husband, Parker, having an intimate dinner with the recently returned starlet, Claire Vance. He had his arm around her; they looked cozy. Claire was the “one that got away” for both Thorne brothers. Their families were old friends, and since we’d married into the family, we’d only heard about her from our sweet, naive mother-in-law. “I do wish Claire would call, I miss her so.” “Would one of you dears ask Claire when she’s coming back?” Claire, Claire, Claire. The name had become a constant, low-grade source of anxiety for both of us. Merrin’s expression flickered with a brief, haunted look. But she quickly composed herself, her voice firm despite the pain. “I’m filing for divorce.” “Are you in?” My interest piqued to about a 10%. After all, I’d been Merrin’s shadow my whole life. She chose a science major, I chose a science major. She went to Stanford, I went to Stanford. She married a Thorne, and I happily followed suit. But my husband hadn’t been caught having dinner with his first love. Was divorce a bit extreme? Sensing my hesitation, she upped the ante. “Parker’s salary goes directly to my account. I can support you, babe. “Once we’re divorced, two male models each. We’ll travel the world.” My interest shot up to 40%. Male models sounded nice, but just two… probably not as good as Joseph. “Ten! Ten male models!” Interest level: 80%. My eyes widened, the word “yes” on the tip of my tongue. But a final shred of reason held me back. A notification pinged on my phone. A headline blared across the screen. ‘Ingenue Claire Vance Named Annual Spokesperson for Thorne Industries! Contract Rumored to be Worth $50 Million!’ The accompanying photo was of her and Joseph at a ribbon-cutting ceremony. She was radiant, smiling triumphantly. And behind her, my dear husband was gazing at her with a deep, intense look. He never looked at me like that. Whenever I tried to joke with him or do something silly, he’d just give me a look like I was an idiot and say: “Are you insane?” At that thought, I hardened my heart. “I’m in!” Merrin was ecstatic, immediately calling her lawyer. She rattled off her demands for the property division like a pro. My eyes went wide when I heard her say she wanted half of the Thorne family fortune. How much money was that? She even haggled with the lawyer, arguing for a discount since she was bringing him two cases. Now I remember why Merrin was the leader and I was the follower. She was just smarter. I stared at my phone’s wallpaper, a photo from our wedding. A pang of regret hit me. Joseph didn’t just give me money; he provided… other kinds of pleasure, and plenty of it. I spoke up hesitantly. “Um… the models have to be really good.” Merrin turned to me, her expression instantly freezing. Still lost in my fantasy, I continued, “They have to be better in bed than Joseph!” Merrin clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a gasp, her other hand trembling as she pointed behind me. Before I could turn, a familiar hand reached out and grabbed the back of my neck, lifting me like a kitten and depositing me at his side. His voice was laced with ice. “If I’m so good in bed, why are you leaving me?” 2 I turned my head mechanically, my eyes meeting Joseph’s frosty gaze. He narrowed his eyes at Merrin, as if she were the one who had put the idea of divorce in my head. “Sister-in-law,” he said, his voice dripping with menace, “Parker is on his way. You should probably figure out how you’re going to explain this to him.” Merrin froze, then plopped onto the sofa, her mind clearly racing. She was too preoccupied to notice the desperate SOS signals I was sending her. So much for our best-friend telepathy. I could only stare meekly at Joseph’s chiseled profile. When he finally turned to look at me, his expression shifted. A faint smile played on his lips, but his voice was still cold. “One divorce in this family is enough. They can get divorced. We won’t.” Joseph’s voice had always been like a drug to me. It hypnotized me into nodding. I nodded obediently, all thoughts of divorce and male models vanishing into thin air. The roar of a sports car echoed from outside. That had to be Parker, the flashy car enthusiast, coming home. A screech of tires, and a minute later, he burst through the door. He was clearly coming straight from a film set, still in his historical costume, his face etched with fatigue. He glanced at us. “Joseph. Aubrey.” Joseph, his arm around my waist, gave a cool nod. “Your wife is trying to convince my wife to get a divorce. You handle it.” Parker strode over to Merrin. He rubbed his temples, his voice laced with impatience. “Merrin, what is it this time? “Last time you wanted a divorce because I had a kissing scene. I haven’t taken a role with a kissing scene since. “The time before that, an assistant gave me a homemade cake. I fired her immediately. “What are you unhappy about now?” Merrin laughed coldly and threw her phone at him. “See for yourself.” I was just getting into the drama when Joseph pulled me away. “Let’s not get involved in other people’s business.” So, we’re not part of the Thorne family now? I grumbled silently, but followed him obediently. In the passenger seat, I asked him quietly, “Why Claire as the spokesperson?” She had just returned to the country, hadn’t been in the business long, and had no major credits to her name. With an award-winning actor in the family, you’d think they’d avoid any appearance of nepotism. Besides, there were countless popular actresses to choose from. Logically, she shouldn’t have even been in the running. “Aubrey, don’t listen to Merrin’s nonsense. “Claire is just a family friend I grew up with. I have no other feelings for her.” No other feelings? Then what about the photo of the two of them I found in his drawer when we first got married? I had shown it to Merrin, my hands trembling. She didn’t say anything, just went to her room and came back with another photo. It turned out to be a picture of the three of them. Claire was in the middle, smiling sweetly. Joseph had cut his brother out of his copy. Parker had cut his brother out of his. Such perfect synergy. Truly brothers. I stopped talking, turned up the car stereo, and stared out the window. 3 Joseph seemed determined to keep me away from Merrin. He took me to his office and watched me like a hawk. During meetings, he’d even give me a pen and paper so I could sit behind him and doodle. I had to admit, he was incredibly handsome when he was working. The eyes behind his gold-rimmed glasses were focused intently on the screen. He would interject at key moments, his comments sharp and insightful. He rarely showed any emotion, but occasionally he’d glance back at me, as if to say, Are you bored? It’s almost over. But the meeting dragged on forever, so long that I almost fell asleep. I was used to it. This was the man who would rush back to the office on our wedding anniversary because of a subordinate’s mistake, leaving me to stare at the flowers and cake on the top floor of a hotel. I’d had to call Merrin to come over so the king-sized bed wouldn’t go to waste. Finally, the secretary knocked. “Miss Vance is here.” “We’ll continue this tomorrow.” Only Claire could pull him out of work mode. I followed him out, seeing Claire for the first time. I’d looked her up online. 25 years old, a squeaky-clean resume, not a single negative story. Not even the media knew she was a Vance, a testament to how well her family had protected her. She was wearing a white dress, looking exactly like she had in that photo from when she was 18. I suddenly understood why both brothers were so hung up on her. That pure, innocent quality… no man could resist it. “Joseph,” she cooed sweetly. “I hope I’m not interrupting.” She completely ignored me, probably assuming I was just a secretary. “Not at all,” Joseph said. “You’re right on time.” He turned and instructed his secretary to take me to the lounge. He also told her to order some of my favorite desserts and fruit teas. The picture of a considerate man. But this considerate man hadn’t looked at me once since she’d arrived. The air conditioning in the lounge was on full blast, and a chill seeped into my heart. I saw a dozen missed calls from Merrin on my phone and called her back. This time, I was the one who asked first. “Merrin, are you still getting a divorce?” There was a moment of silence on the other end, then a firm voice. “Yes.” 4 Merrin and I met at a bar and drank ourselves into oblivion. “Aubrey, do you know what that bastard Parker said to me?” “He said he only met with Claire because she just got back and asked him to introduce her to some industry contacts.” “What about me? I was a rising star once. I had just as much talent as she does.” “But what did I get for marrying him? A life where I can’t be in the spotlight, and a man whose heart isn’t with me.” “But you got money,” I whispered. Merrin’s spending habits were legendary. Marrying into the Thorne family, with their deep pockets, was the only reason she hadn’t gone bankrupt. At my words, her hazy eyes lit up. She grabbed my hand, her voice firm, as if she were taking an oath. “You’re right! I have money! The Thornes only have two sons. We’ll take half their fortune. What kind of man can’t we find then?” She paused, as if a thought had just struck her. “You and Joseph didn’t sign a prenup, did you?” Actually, we had. Before the wedding, in front of a lawyer, Joseph had presented me with an agreement. At the time, I was so captivated by his face and his body that I signed it without even looking. When Merrin heard this, she groaned. “Damn it. Then we can only take a quarter.” “How much is a quarter?” I asked. She counted on her fingers. “Enough for each of us to hire ten top-tier male models a day, a different set every day, until we die.” “Yay!” We happily decided that as soon as the lawyers drafted the divorce papers, we would officially split. While waiting for the papers, it was our mother-in-law’s birthday. We had to keep up appearances, so we attended the gala together, leaving the two brothers to stare at each other in confusion. Usually, we would be on their arms, helping them network. Today, they were on their own. At first, Merrin and I thought our mother-in-law was trying to put us, her two less-than-satisfactory daughters-in-law, in our place. But it turned out she genuinely adored Claire. We heard she had always wanted a daughter, but had two sons instead. With the Vances being busy, she had practically raised the princess-like Claire herself. Merrin couldn’t take it anymore and was about to drag me away. But Claire glanced over, her voice intentionally loud. “I don’t believe I’ve met my sisters-in-law. Aunt Linda, won’t you introduce us?” Great. Now we were stuck. She greeted us sweetly, complimenting Merrin on her beauty. No kidding. Merrin was breathtaking. If she were still in the entertainment industry, Claire wouldn’t stand a chance. When it was my turn, she looked me up and down and said I looked… “like I enjoy a good meal.” …So what if I’d gained a few pounds recently and looked a little chubby next to Merrin? Did she have to be so catty? I held my tongue, but Merrin wouldn’t let it slide. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, sister. You have such an ethereal quality, like a pure lotus blossom, untouched by the mud.” “And that white dress… it really brings out your inner white lotus, doesn’t it?” Our mother-in-law didn’t get the dig and nodded approvingly. Claire’s face turned from red to green, like a traffic light. She didn’t retort, just scurried over to stand between the two brothers, a picture of perfect harmony. Merrin and I exchanged a look. Our resolve to divorce hardened. Many of Parker’s investors were at the party. Claire wasn’t about to miss this opportunity, coyly following him around and networking. Merrin’s eyes narrowed. “That director, Wu? He wanted me for his last film, but I was too love-struck to accept,” she whispered. “And that producer, Wang? He offered to start a production company for me. Even after I quit, he’d still email me every so often, asking me to come back.” “Damn it, she’s reaping all the benefits. If I’d known this would happen, I would have died trying to make it in the industry.” She was practically steaming. The final straw was when Claire, in front of everyone, casually brushed an eyelash from Parker’s face. The anger that had been simmering all night finally boiled over. Merrin found her moment and brought her stiletto heel down hard on Claire’s dress. Claire gasped. She looked down to see a large tear in her skirt. While it wasn’t revealing, a torn gown at an event like this was mortifying. Parker rushed over and grabbed Merrin. “Merrin! What are you doing? Why would you humiliate her like that?” Joseph came over to me. “Can you lend her a dress?” It was the first thing either of them had said to us all night. I smiled. “Of course. You bought them all, so you can decide.” He looked at me with an unreadable expression, then waved a hand, instructing a maid to take Claire upstairs to change. Merrin and I fled the Thorne mansion. We jumped into the red sports car Parker had bought her and sped off, hitting 120 mph on the highway. When we finally stopped, she said, “I’m not waiting for the papers. We’re leaving tomorrow.” 5 The next day, we were in the Maldives. This had been our dream honeymoon destination. But Joseph was too busy with work, and Parker had a packed filming schedule, so it never happened. We lounged on the beach, mojitos in hand, basking in the sun. It was pure bliss. But our phones wouldn’t stop ringing. Parker texted her: “Are you done with your tantrum? If so, come home.” “I already apologized to Claire on your behalf.” “I haven’t even gotten mad at you for wanting a divorce, and now you’re giving me the silent treatment?” Joseph was much calmer. “Stop messing around with Merrin and come home. I’ll take you shopping.” “Come back when you’re done playing. The dog is waiting for you to feed him.” One of them hadn’t grasped the severity of the situation, and the other thought his wife was just on vacation. A pair of idiots. My family must have been blind. But I did miss my dog. “Can we add a clause to the divorce agreement that I get custody of the dog?” I asked Merrin. Merrin nodded and called the lawyer. He said he could have the papers sent to the Thorne mansion the next day. We were both satisfied, turned off our phones, took off our sunglasses, and started scouting for handsome, pale-skinned, long-legged foreign men on the beach. 6 When we finally turned our phones back on, they exploded with notifications. The brothers hadn’t expected us to be serious. Now, they were truly panicking. Parker’s messages went from angry to pleading, finally ending with: “If you divorce me, you only get half my money. If you don’t, it’s all yours.” Merrin rolled her eyes. “You think I’m after your money? That’s hilarious.” She wasn’t. When she started dating Parker, she didn’t even know he was a Thorne. “What did your husband… I mean, Joseph, say?” I handed her my phone, my hand trembling. Joseph’s text read: ‘Didn’t you say I was good in bed? If I’m so good, can we not get a divorce?’ Merrin tapped out a reply on my phone. When she handed it back, I almost dropped it in the pool. ‘I was inexperienced then. Now that I’ve tried others, I realize you’re not that great.’ Talk about a low blow. But I hadn’t actually tried anyone else. We were all talk and no action. We were used to fine dining; it was hard to work up an appetite for fast food. The male model I’d ordered yesterday… I’d only managed to touch his hand. Merrin was braver; she’d felt his abs. Then she’d pursed her lips and said, “Too scrawny. Not as good as Parker’s.” We were tired of playing, and there was no news on the divorce papers, so we decided to head home. I don’t know how Joseph found out our flight details, but he was waiting for us at the arrival gate. It was a weekday; he should have been at the office. I was about to pull on a hat and sunglasses and pretend I didn’t know him, but Merrin poked me. “Don’t bother. His eyes haven’t left you since we came out.” “We have to go back and force them to sign anyway. Might as well hitch a ride.” We didn’t say a word and got into Joseph’s car. The moment I walked in the door, my beloved dog rushed over, his tail wagging furiously, his whole body radiating love. They say men are like dogs, but I think dogs are better. Parker was also home, sitting silently on the sofa. We each followed our future ex-husbands to our respective suites. I looked around the bedroom we had shared for three years. The “double happiness” character on the wall had faded. Joseph had torn it down the day after our wedding; he preferred a minimalist aesthetic and couldn’t stand all the frills. I had made him put it back up later, and it was still there. Joseph was genuinely angry. He threw the divorce papers in front of me. “So,” he said, “you’ve tried others and decided I’m not good enough? That’s why you want a divorce?” I stiffened my neck. “Yes! Others are better than you!” He suddenly pushed me down onto the sofa, his kiss so forceful I couldn’t push him away. We hadn’t been this intimate in months. He was always too busy, often coming home late and collapsing into bed. After a long time, he released me. Tears welled in my eyes. “Not only are you not that great in bed, your kissing sucks too!” That really set him off. The veins in his neck bulged, his voice as cold as ice. “You’d better tell me that’s not true. Otherwise, I will find that man and I will kill him.” He was a psychopath. I’d always known that. When we first got married, I was working at a small company and was sexually harassed by my boss. I told Joseph, crying. The next day, the company went bankrupt. The boss was ambushed on his way home and beaten so badly he was permanently disabled. He was also sent to prison for embezzlement. Joseph hadn’t let me work since. My tears finally started to fall. “Joseph, I really do want a divorce. “I’ve been married to you for three years, and in your heart, work will always be more important than me. “You missed my birthday, you left me on our wedding anniversary, and all you ever do is try to make up for it with jewelry and handbags. You can’t even say you’re sorry. “And now Claire is back, and she’s more important than me too. Why should this marriage continue?” He looked stunned. “What does Claire have to do with this?” I pointed to his drawer. “There used to be a treasured photo of the two of you in there. You think I didn’t know? How do you think the photo disappeared? I tore it up with my own hands.” He put a hand to his forehead. “I honestly don’t remember that photo, and I have no idea when you tore it up, because I never even looked at it.” I closed my eyes, feeling tired. “It doesn’t matter. Arguing about this is pointless. “Since we got married, I’ve been begging you to take me on a honeymoon. You always said you were too busy, that we should wait. And we’ve waited for three years. “Now I’ve been, and I suddenly realize that I can go out and see the world without you. “The world outside is so exciting and beautiful, so much better than sitting at home, foolishly waiting for you to come back. “Just let me go. We signed a prenup. I won’t take a single penny from you. Just let me leave, please?” I had never seen Joseph bow his head, except in the heat of passion. But now, his head was bowed, his face hidden in shadow, his expression unreadable. After a long time, he looked up, the corners of his eyes red. “Fine,” he said. “I agree.” The tension that had been holding me together finally snapped. I had gotten what I wanted, but I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “But the dog stays with me. You can come and see him whenever you want.” I forced a smile. “Okay.” He silently picked up the papers, his hand trembling as he signed. It made my own heart tremble. As I walked out of the Thorne mansion, I couldn’t help but look back one last time. Joseph stood at the door, unmoving, holding our dog, who was struggling to run to me.

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I opened my eyes and I was eighteen again. I was in a classroom, a grimy, yellowing box, and a group of boys were using me to settle a bet. “…I’m telling you, for twenty bucks, you could get a feel of Claire. Any takers?” Their laughter was a low, dirty murmur. Finally, they settled on a champion. “Leo, you do it.” Leo’s voice, cool and confident, cut through the noise. “Sure. Why not?” I kept my head down on the desk, my eyes squeezed shut, and waited for his footsteps. 1 Tap. Tap. Tap. Leo’s knuckles rapped against my desk. I feigned a groggy awakening, lifting my head. “What is it?” “You busy after school? Need to talk to you about something.” I studied him. He was a master of feigned indifference, his posture ramrod straight, his expression meticulously casual. He looked so damn respectable. I played along, my own voice flat. “I’m free.” “Cool. Wait for me after the last bell.” He spun on his heel, a perfect, smooth pivot, and sauntered back to his seat. A wave of snickering followed him. I didn’t have to look to know the predatory grins plastered on their faces. Tch. A bunch of assholes. I buried my face in my arms again. I had no idea what kind of cosmic joke this was, being thrown back into my eighteen-year-old life. A life where my stomach was a hollow, aching pit, a void I could only try to fill with tap water from the school fountain. During lunch break, other kids napped because they were tired. I napped because the gnawing hunger made it impossible to do anything else. But sleep wouldn’t come. So I heard everything. The whispers of the boys. Their talk of video games, comics, basketball… and girls. I was one of their favorite topics. The pretty, poor girl. In any school, that combination makes you a target. But for a girl, their bullying took on a darker, more disgusting flavor. They were betting twenty dollars. And ten years ago, I had actually done it. For twenty miserable dollars, I followed Leo into the woods behind the school. He gave me the cash. I unbuttoned my shirt. Then, click. The sound of a camera shutter. The next day, the photo was all over the class group chat. From then on, I didn’t have a name. I was just “Twenty Bucks.” 2 When the final bell rang, Leo was the first one out the door. I grabbed my worn-out backpack. “Let’s go,” he said, waiting for me in the hall. I followed him without a word. We walked off campus, heading toward the woods behind the school. He kept glancing back, as if he was afraid I’d bolt. I clutched my empty stomach. “Hey!” Leo turned. “What? We’re almost there. You’re not backing out, are you?” “No,” I said. “But I’m hungry.” He blinked, then let out an annoyed sigh. “So? What do you want me to do about it?” “I want to eat.” He was impatient, eager to get this over with, but the thought of winning his bet was too tempting. He weighed his options for a few seconds. “Fine. We eat first.” I ordered a plate of fried rice from a greasy spoon diner. Leo paid. The place was cheap and grimy, and he clearly couldn’t bring himself to eat. He just sat there, arms crossed, watching me devour my food. “Christ, Claire,” he said, a look of disgust on his face. “Are you a starving refugee or something?” I ignored him completely. I couldn’t remember the precise feeling of being eighteen and hungry, but I remembered Melissa’s cruelty with perfect clarity. That beautiful woman had slithered into our lives like a disease, bringing her daughter with her and infecting my father. And just like that, I became the family charity case. Melissa had a chilling talent for calculating the bare minimum a person needed to survive. The allowance she gave me was just enough for a couple of bread rolls. Enough to keep me from dying, but not enough to stop the constant, grinding misery of hunger. It drained my energy, made it impossible to focus on my studies. If I couldn’t get into a good college, I wouldn’t be a drain on the family’s resources. All of it would go to her precious daughter. I finally put down my fork, a wave of satisfaction washing over me. “Finished?” Leo stood up. “Let’s go, then.” I reached out and grabbed his arm. He froze. His entire body went rigid, and the heat radiating from his skin could have cooked an egg. Ah, teenage hormones. So damn hot. But his eyes were even hotter. “Claire.” He looked down at me, his voice a low, rough rasp. “You need money, right?” I just smiled. What a stupid question. Of course I needed money. That was the whole point of this, wasn’t it? “Come on,” he urged, his voice dropping lower. “To the woods.” I shook my head slowly. My hand slid up his arm, and I closed the distance between us until our bodies were pressed together. “…How about a motel?” I whispered, my lips brushing against his ear. In the dim light of the alley, the glowing neon of the ‘MOTEL’ sign seemed to pulse with a life of its own. Leo swallowed hard. 3 The moment the motel room door clicked shut, Leo’s breathing grew heavy and ragged. He lunged, pinning me against the door, but then he hesitated, reining himself in. Right. He was eighteen. All instinct and no experience. He was a bundle of agitated nerves, but he didn’t know what to do next. “Wanna shower first?” I asked, my voice calm. “You or me?” He snapped back to reality, staring at me with suspicion. He was probably wondering how I could be so composed, so familiar with a scene like this. “You first, then,” I said. He shot me a look of contempt and tossed his backpack at me. “I’ll be quick.” “Take your time,” I said sweetly. The second the bathroom door closed, I unzipped his bag and pulled out the camera. Then, I picked up the motel’s landline and dialed. The number was for a woman I’d seen loitering by the salon downstairs, bored and smoking a cigarette. Her number was taped to the glass door. I have a photographic memory. The call connected. I gave her the room number, hung up, and then went for his wallet. A thick wad of cash. Leo was a rich kid. His father owned the biggest supermarket chain in the county and spoiled him rotten, mostly with money. He had a lot of it. I only took half. The other half would be his payment for services rendered. A moment later, the doorbell rang. Perfect timing. Leo was just stepping out of the bathroom. He emerged, wrapped in a towel. “Why are the lights off?” Silence. The dim lamp by the bed cast long shadows, illuminating a large, human-shaped lump under the covers. Leo’s breathing hitched, his voice trembling when he called out my name. “Claire?” He crept toward the bed, his back a pale, lean line in the half-light. I watched, a predatory smile playing on my lips. His ragged breaths were the only sound in the dark room. He reached out, his hand shaking, and pulled back the covers. A pair of soft, unfamiliar arms snaked around his neck. Leo tumbled onto the bed, a tangle of limbs with the woman I’d called. That’s when I flipped on the main light. CLICK. I took the picture. Leo’s eyes went wide. He was completely, utterly stunned. The woman from downstairs started yelling at me. “What the hell is this? This isn’t what we agreed on!” I held up a hand to quiet her, then dangled the camera in front of Leo, a triumphant grin on my face. The shock finally wore off, replaced by a wave of pure fury. “Claire!” he roared. “That photo just cost you a thousand bucks,” I said, tossing his wallet onto the bed. “I already took my share. The rest is for her. You can settle up.” I turned to the woman. “Get your payment from him.” Then, I slung my backpack over my shoulder and walked out without a backward glance. Leo scrambled off the bed, trying to come after me. “Stop!” he bellowed, his voice cracking with rage. “Claire, you fucking bitch, you set me up! You can’t just run off!” The woman grabbed him. “Where do you think you’re going? Pay me first!” “Let go of me!” “Not until you pay up!” A dog-eat-dog world. I slammed the door shut behind me, leaving them to it. He deserved it. 4 My first time at eighteen was a miserable existence. I was too young, too naive. A teenage girl with no other way to make money, my body was my only asset. That deal with Leo had bought me a week’s worth of food. It had also cost me my name. The image of my half-naked body was passed around, a permanent trophy in the phones of every boy in my grade. Slips of paper would appear in my desk, cruel, taunting notes asking for my price. Is twenty not enough? How about thirty? Can I just look, no touching? The girls, meanwhile, treated me like a leper. They’d hold their noses when they passed my desk, exchanging knowing, contemptuous looks. My life went from one level of hell to the next. No one laid a hand on me. No one yelled at me. But I was flayed alive by their silent judgment, a thousand times a day. I wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. This time, at twenty-eight, I knew how to play the game. And Leo deserved everything he got. Humming a little tune, I walked home. One thousand dollars. It was enough to get me through the next six months. Enough to get me to the SATs, and then far, far away from this town. 5 Leo was late for school the next day. He looked like a wilted vegetable, all the life drained out of him. I’d heard his parents had been called. The woman from the motel told me everything. Leo had refused to pay her, and they’d caused such a scene that the manager, fearing a bigger incident, had found his student ID and called the school. The school, in turn, called his father. His dad ended up footing the bill. What a foolish boy, letting his pride get the best of him. All he had to do was pay the woman. I couldn’t help but smirk. Leo saw it. The look he gave me was murderous. I turned away with a soft “Hah.” He looked ready to pounce. One of his friends, oblivious, sidled up to him. “Hey, Leo. So, how’d it go last night? Did you score?” Leo finally had an outlet for his rage. “Score your mom!” The friend recoiled. “Whoa, man, what’s your problem?” “Get lost!” Leo roared, kicking over a nearby desk with a violent crash. A wave of shocked gasps filled the room. I didn’t turn around. I just kept twirling my pen, calmly circling key points in my new review book. This was just a small lesson. I had no intention of being called “Twenty Bucks” ever again. Ten years from now, that nickname would have no power over me. The twenty-eight-year-old me was a fortress, immune to the petty wounds of adolescence. I had smoothed over all the rough edges of my past. But not now. Not yet. The eighteen-year-old Claire still cared. 6 After school, Leo cornered me again. This time, I didn’t waste any time on pleasantries. I just raised an eyebrow. “Move, or I start screaming.” “Go ahead and scream!” he sneered, a twisted grin on his face. “Claire, you screwed me over. This isn’t finished.” I tilted my head, a mocking smile on my lips. “What are you going to do? Take me back to the motel?” “…” The color drained from his face, then rushed back in a wave of humiliation. He opened his mouth, then closed it, finally spitting out a single, crude word. “Bitch.” I pulled out the camera. “Give that back!” he snarled. “Who’s a bitch?” I asked sweetly. “…” He was so furious he was speechless, his chest heaving, his face crimson. It was almost funny. Leo just didn’t have thick enough skin. A different kind of guy would have treated that photo as a badge of honor, proof of his manhood. But there’s no sport in bullying the weak. I tossed the camera to him. “Here. You can have it.” He snatched it out of the air and immediately started fumbling with the controls, probably deleting the photo. When he was done, he looked up, his eyes narrowed. “Did you make a copy?” “What do you think?” It was my only leverage. Of course I had a copy. He gritted his teeth. “What do you want?” I beckoned him closer with a single finger. My eighteen-year-old face held the cold, merciless soul of my twenty-eight-year-old self. I let my fangs show and hissed one word at him. “Disappear.” I wanted nothing more to do with him. I had bigger problems to deal with. My stepmother. My stepsister. They were the real obstacles in my path. I needed to save my energy for them. They had already ruined my life once. I wouldn’t let it happen a second time. And Leo? He was just a footnote. 7 I stopped wolfing down my food at dinner. Melissa noticed the change almost immediately. Before, dinner was the only real meal I got all day, and I ate like I was trying to choke myself. But now that I was eating three meals a day, I could be more composed. Melissa started watching me, her eyes filled with suspicion. But she had no proof. She searched my room, turning over my backpack, my pillow, my mattress… but she found nothing. I’d already stashed the thousand dollars under her own daughter’s bed. A place she would never think to look. “Don’t get too comfortable,” Amber, my stepsister, said with a smug smile. “You can’t hide it forever. My mom will figure you out.” She spoke with absolute certainty. “We know you got money from somewhere, Claire.” I kept my head down, pretending to read, pretending I couldn’t hear her. Amber sat on her bed, her voice dripping with condescending advice. “Why bother studying so hard? Even if you get into a good college, my mom will never let you go.” I finally looked up at her. “Don’t waste your energy,” she said. Her face wore that familiar, lofty expression of mockery, laughing at my futile efforts, knowing she could sever my lifeline and crush my dreams without lifting a finger. “This is my house,” I said, my voice low and steady. Amber was taken aback, clearly not expecting me to talk back. But she recovered quickly, her lips curling into a soft smile. “And?” She leaned forward. “Claire, sooner or later, I’m going to throw you out of it.” I stared at her, my gaze as cold as ice. “Want to bet?” she challenged. “Let’s see whose house this really is.” As if on cue, the door swung open. My father stood there. “Brought you girls a late-night snack,” he announced, holding up a small bag. “Sesame balls. Amber, share them with Claire.” “Okay!” Amber chirped, taking the bag from his hand and beaming up at him. “Thanks, Dad.” My father ruffled her hair, then his gaze fell on me. “Still studying? Don’t stay up too late.” “I know,” I replied. The door closed. Amber took a bite of a sesame ball and held it out. “Want one?” Before I could answer, she laughed. “Oh, right. I forgot. You’re allergic to sesame.” She looked so damn pleased with herself. 8 I soon found out what Amber meant by her mother’s “methods.” On Monday morning, during our homeroom meeting, Melissa burst into the classroom. She marched right up to me, her voice ringing with righteous indignation. “Claire, why did you steal money from the house? What kind of shameful things are you spending it on?” “You can’t be doing bad things, Claire,” she cried, her voice thick with fake anguish. “If you need something, just ask me! I’ll buy it for you! But you can’t steal!” Every eye in the room was on me. My face was a cold mask. “I didn’t take anything.” “I don’t believe you!” Melissa started ransacking my desk, sweeping everything onto the floor in a clattering mess. “Fine, deny it all you want. When I find the money, let’s see what you have to say for yourself!” I understood then. She thought I’d hidden the money at school. But she found nothing. Our teacher, Mr. Harrison, finally recovered from his shock and stepped in. “Mrs. Miller, please, let’s discuss this in my office. We shouldn’t disrupt the class.” He gestured for us to follow. “Come, let’s go to my office. Claire, you too.” In the office, Melissa put on a spectacular show, sobbing as if her heart was breaking. “Mr. Harrison, I’m at my wit’s end. I would never have come to the school if I had any other choice.” “It’s just… Claire is so disobedient.” “What exactly happened?” Mr. Harrison asked. “Five hundred dollars is missing from my wallet. Claire was the only one who went into my room.” Mr. Harrison looked at me. “Claire?” “I didn’t take it,” I said flatly. “I’m not the only other person in the house.” “Are you trying to blame Amber?” Melissa shrieked. “Claire, Amber is my daughter! I’ve watched her grow up, I know her character. She would never do something like that.” I let out a short, bitter laugh. “Are you sure?” My laugh seemed to ignite her rage. A venomous glint appeared in her eyes, though her voice remained pitiful. “Claire, I know your mother died when you were young, and your father is often away. You’re starved for attention, I understand. But no matter how much you need money, you cannot steal. What would your mother think?” My expression hardened instantly. She had no right to mention my mother. My kind, beautiful mother, who was worth more than Melissa’s entire being. I stood up straight. “If my mother knew you were framing me like this, she’d climb out of her grave and tear you to pieces, you bitch.” The office fell silent. Mr. Harrison stared at me, shocked that such a word could come from his usually quiet, well-behaved student. Melissa completely lost it, lunging at me. “Calm down, Mrs. Miller, please!” Mr. Harrison blocked her, then turned to me, his voice stern. “Claire, apologize. Now.” Apologize? To her? Not in a million years. “Disgusting,” I muttered. The office dissolved into chaos. I just turned and walked out. Leo was leaning against the wall outside. I walked past him, giving him a sideways glance but not breaking my stride. “Claire,” he called after me. “The money for your review books was from me, wasn’t it? Why didn’t you tell them?” I turned back. His eyes were filled with pity. He was pitying me. I didn’t want it. “None of your damn business,” I said. The look on his face was priceless, a kaleidoscope of shock and offense. 9 When I got home that night, my bed was a disaster. Melissa had given it a bath. The mattress and blankets were a sodden, disgusting heap on the floor. Amber was gloating. “You dared to curse at my mom. This is just a warning, Claire. Dad’s out of town for a week. Let’s see who you’re going to run crying to now.” I paid her no mind. Even if my father were home, I wouldn’t tell him. He wouldn’t believe me anyway. When I told him I was always hungry, he asked Melissa about it. She explained it was for my own good. “Teenage girls put on weight so easily, and it’s hard to lose it.” “Claire is so pretty, it would be a shame if she got fat. Look at Amber, I don’t let her eat too much either.” And my father believed her. Then there was my period. I had no money for pads, so I’d fold layers of toilet paper, but the blood would always soak through to my pants. I washed them by hand every single day. Melissa would ask, in her concerned voice, “Does Claire have some sort of cleanliness obsession?” My father, confused, would ask, “What’s going on?” My hands would be submerged in soapy water as I stared at Melissa. She was so confident, so sure that I would never be able to speak to a man—even my own father—about the needs of my body. So I became the girl with the obsession. Picky, silent, and increasingly strange. They dismantled me piece by piece. And all I could do was endure it. I saved every penny I could, enduring the hunger so I could afford the pads I desperately needed. My body seemed to mock me; despite being malnourished, my period was always heavy, always on time. The irony was not lost on me.

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I was folding his laundry when he spoke, his voice casual. “You know, sometimes, you’re just… cheap.” My hands froze mid-fold. Before I could form a reply, he plowed on. “Don’t get me wrong, you love me, I know you do. You’re responsible, you take good care of me, of the house. But you just can’t compare to Helen.” He sighed, a sound of profound disappointment. “Anyone could do what you do. It’s nothing special. It’s not like what I have with Helen.” My mind flashed back a month ago, to when his ex-girlfriend had invited him to a concert. I’d told her he wasn’t going. He was still holding it against me. I dropped the shirt I was holding and turned to leave the room. The irony was suffocating. Just this morning, my boss had offered me a position at our overseas division. A huge promotion. I had turned it down. For him. But now, as I was finally ready to walk away, to give his precious Helen the space she so clearly wanted… Why would he end up crying, begging me to come back? 1 I threw the half-folded laundry onto the bed. Ethan didn’t move from his chair, just watched me walk to the door. “What, was I wrong?” he challenged. “There’s another show tonight, isn’t there?” I said, my hand gripping the cool metal of the doorknob. “Is that what this is about? All this passive-aggressive bullshit? Go. I don’t care.” He’d never heard me talk back to him like that. A slow, incredulous smile spread across his face. “You really think you can stop me?” “Do whatever you want.” “Amelia!” he snapped, his voice sharp. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? Was anything I said untrue? Will you be happy if you force me to go?” “I told you,” I said, my voice flat. “Do. Whatever. You. Want.” I pulled the door shut behind me. A few steps down the hall, I heard the satisfying crash of a glass shattering against a wall. I sat in a Starbucks, stirring a latte I couldn’t afford, scrolling through my phone for Ms. Davenport’s number. For years, I’d been pinching every penny for the down payment on our first home. The most expensive drink I ever bought myself was a slushie from the corner store. This Starbucks… it wasn’t as magical as I’d imagined. But the feeling? The freedom? That was priceless. Ms. Davenport answered on the second ring. I didn’t waste any time. “Ms. Davenport, that offer for the overseas division… is it still on the table?” There was a pause on the other end. Then, a warm laugh. “It’s yours if you want it, Amelia.” “I want it!” “And your wedding plans with your boyfriend…?” “We broke up,” I said, the words tasting like liberation. There was no sympathy, no awkward condolences. Instead, she actually snorted. “Good. It’s about time you came to your senses.” For six years, everyone in my life had gently, and not-so-gently, reminded me that my career had far more potential than my relationship. That I shouldn’t have to put my life on hold while Ethan got his feet back on the ground after his failed startup. But I couldn’t bear to leave him when he was at his lowest. I stayed. The hilarious part? His ex, Helen, was the one who had dumped him back then because he was broke, running off with some rich kid she met in Europe. Now that Ethan was successful, she was back, sniffing around for a second chance without, of course, giving up her lavish lifestyle. My phone buzzed. A new Instagram story from Helen. It was a picture of her and Ethan, their faces projected onto the giant screen above the concert stage. They were nestled close, their hands forming a heart for the camera. The entire arena could see them. No one would doubt for a second that they were a couple. The caption read: After all this time, the right person is still waiting right where you left them. And right below it, a single “like” from Ethan. I took a screenshot and fired it off to my best friend. I can’t deal with these two psychos. A question mark came back instantly, followed by a screenshot of Helen’s empty profile. My friend couldn’t see the story. I checked with a few other people. Same thing. Helen had set the story’s privacy so only certain people could see it. No, not people. Just one person. Me. A cold smile touched my lips. I blocked her number and deleted her contact. 2 By the time I left Ms. Davenport’s office with the signed contract in my hand, most of my anger had dissipated, replaced by a thrilling sense of purpose. I was scheduled to fly out in a week, and I had no intention of spending another minute playing maid for Ethan. But when I got back to our apartment to pack, I found it already occupied. The place was a disaster. Helen stood in the middle of the kitchen, holding a plate of blackened, incinerated chicken wings. “Oops,” she chirped, looking at Ethan. “Is it okay that I made such a mess, sweetie?” Ethan, a notorious neat freak, just shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. Amelia will clean it up.” “I feel so bad,” Helen pouted. “I’m just useless at housework…” “Hey, don’t say that,” he cooed. “This kind of stuff isn’t for you, anyway.” I walked straight past them, heading for the bedroom to grab my suitcase. Ethan stared, stunned into silence for a moment. Helen put down the plate of charred remains and followed me. “Amelia, I— ah!” I shoved her out of my way. It wasn’t hard, but she reacted as if I’d hit her with a battering ram, stumbling dramatically and collapsing onto the floor. “Helen!” Ethan rushed to her side, helping her up. He glared at me. “Amelia, she’s my guest! If you’re going to be angry, be angry with me!” My fists clenched. Ignoring them, I started yanking my things out of the closet, tossing miscellaneous junk onto the floor. A folder slid out from a shelf and fluttered to the ground, landing right at Helen’s feet. She picked it up. Her eyes scanned the top page. Her face crumpled, and her eyes welled up with tears. She dropped the folder as if it were on fire and spun around to leave. “Helen, wait!” Ethan grabbed her arm. She struggled, her voice choked with sobs. “Let me go! You two are already engaged!” I glanced down. It was the paperwork for our engagement party venue. 3 Ethan held onto Helen’s wrist, but despite her tearful performance, she wasn’t actually trying very hard to get away. “Amelia,” Ethan said, his voice tight with frustration as he struggled to hold onto her. He shot me a furious look. “Apologize.” I stared at him. “For what?” “If you hadn’t pushed this whole engagement thing, she wouldn’t be this hurt right now! You pretended to be cleaning out your closet, but you just wanted her to see this, didn’t you?” A harsh, bitter laugh escaped my lips. “Ethan, I never realized how stupid you could be.” He blinked, taken aback. I turned my attention to Helen. “Let me get this straight. You couldn’t tell we lived together? You didn’t know we were a couple? If that’s the case, why were you calling me his ‘sister-in-law’ earlier? You knew everything. So who is this little ‘I’m the innocent, heartbroken victim’ act for?” Her eyes reddened further. She made another show of trying to leave, and Ethan tightened his grip. “Amelia! That’s enough!” I ignored him and went back to packing. Helen’s voice rose in a dramatic wail. “Don’t stop me! She already misunderstands everything! You’re engaged! I never should have come here!” “Amelia!” Ethan snapped, his grip on Helen unwavering as he glared at me. “Apologize. Now.” My hands balled into fists so tight my knuckles were white. “No.” “Are you sure about that?” My chin jutted out. “I’m sure.” Ethan stared at me for a few long seconds, his jaw tight. Then, he bent down and picked up the engagement papers. “See? This is why you’ll never be as good as Helen,” he said, his voice dripping with contempt. “All you know how to do is play these petty, jealous games. It’s so obvious you’ve never been out of the country. Your worldview is pathetic compared to hers.” With that, he ripped the folder in half. “Since you won’t apologize, I guess this engagement is off. You can keep this worthless piece of paper for all I care.” He tore it again, and again, until the documents were nothing but confetti in his hand. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he flung the scraps into my face. He didn’t look back. He just grabbed Helen’s hand and walked out. I snatched our framed photo from the nightstand and slammed it onto the floor. A spiderweb of cracks fractured the glass, splitting our smiling faces apart. I kicked it across the room until it slid to a stop next to the trash can. 4 Three days passed. Not a word from Ethan. We used to talk every single day. Our Snap streak was over two thousand days long. Though, if I was being honest, I was the one who started the conversation for more than half of those days. In just three days, the little flame icon vanished. I was in my hotel room, finalizing handover documents for my old job, when his name flashed on my screen. It was the first time he’d called. “You’re not home?” he asked, his voice flat. “Do you need something?” I replied, not looking up from my laptop. A picture message came through. It was our apartment. The trash was overflowing. There were dirty dishes in the sink, caked with dried food. A pile of his wrinkled shirts lay in a heap on the bed. You’ve had your fun. It’s time to come home now, his text read. The apartment is a mess. You should show a little more concern. “What about Helen?” I typed back. Helen tries to help, but she’s not good at this stuff. She’s used to a certain lifestyle, Amelia. She didn’t come back here to do chores. I didn’t have time for this. You’re a successful man, Ethan. Hire a maid. He was silent for a moment. Then, another text. Even the best maid isn’t as thoughtful as you. Helen has high standards. They just don’t measure up. You’re insane, I wrote, and then hung up. He called back immediately. I blocked his number. A minute later, I got a notification from my bank. The joint credit card had been frozen. It was the card Ethan had given me. After his startup failed, I was the one who supported him, encouraged him, and took care of everything at home so he could rebuild. I turned down promotion after promotion to be his stable foundation. In six years, he became the respected CEO everyone looked up to, while I remained a junior associate. The card was supposed to be his way of thanking me, of providing for me. In reality, most of the money went to household expenses. He was freezing it to force me to come crawling back. I had never been more grateful for Ms. Davenport. A separate notification glowed on my screen: a direct deposit from the company. My promotion bonus. I didn’t need his money anymore. The next day, I was at Starbucks putting the final touches on my paperwork when I saw them. Ethan and Helen. I stood up to leave, but Helen spotted me and walked right over, a sickly sweet smile on her face. I couldn’t understand how she had the audacity to approach me after I had made my disgust so clear. In the clumsy shuffle as I tried to get past her, my folder of documents slipped from my hand, scattering papers across the floor. She bent down, her eyes widening as she read the top page. “A transfer letter?” she gasped. “Sister… you’re going to the overseas division!” 5 I snatched the papers from her hand. Ethan was staring at me, his expression a mixture of shock and disbelief. “You’re… leaving?” Helen’s eyes filled with tears instantly. “Sister, did you do this because you knew I wanted to apply for that division? Are you trying to show me up?” I was speechless. Helen started swaying, her hand flying to her forehead as if she were about to faint. She stumbled, collapsing into Ethan’s arms. He held her, his brow furrowed in disapproval as he looked at me. “Amelia, is this what this is about? You see that Helen has international experience, so now you want to copy her? That division was her dream! What do you think you’re doing, applying at the same time?” “This transfer is being revoked!” he declared. I clutched the letter to my chest. “No, it’s not.” “Ethan,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “I’m curious. It’s her dream, so she’s allowed to go. But I want it, so I can’t? What’s the matter? Are you afraid to let her go?” He hesitated. “I can’t hold her back… She didn’t come back to be tied down by me. I can visit her. I will always respect her freedom.” A knot tightened in my chest. “So you weren’t angry when she abandoned you all those years ago?” Ethan closed his eyes for a moment. “She had her reasons. It wasn’t fair to ask her to struggle with me. Amelia, these overseas opportunities are rare. Be good. Withdraw your application. I’ll pull some strings and get you a better job here. Just stop competing with Helen over everything.” Crack. The sound of my hand hitting his cheek echoed through the quiet coffee shop. Helen shrieked and threw herself between us. “Sister! Don’t take it out on him!” she cried, grabbing my arm, tears streaming down her face. “I won’t go, okay? Please don’t fight with him because of me, I—” Crack. Another slap, this time across her face. Her words died in her throat. “What are you two yapping about?” I asked, my voice cold as I carefully placed the transfer letter back in my folder. Ethan pulled Helen behind him, shielding her. “You’re crazy!” he yelled. I gave them both a look that could freeze fire. “I’m leaving. That was my decision. Nothing either of you says will change that.” Then, my eyes landed on Helen. “And don’t you ever pull that pathetic act in front of me again. It’s embarrassing.” Without another word, I turned and strode out of the Starbucks, leaving them in a stunned silence amidst the shocked stares of the other customers. I could feel Ethan’s gaze on my back, a new, unfamiliar look of surprise in his eyes. He gritted his teeth. 6 I was on my way to drop off the last of my files, stopped at a red light on a deserted stretch of road, when a car slammed into me from behind. I stomped on the brake, but the car behind me didn’t stop. It accelerated. I laid on the horn, a frantic, useless blare as the force pushed my car forward. The impacts kept coming, one after another, until my car was violently shoved into a concrete retaining wall. The world spun. Half my body was thrown out the open window, my chest crushed between the deployed airbag and the driver’s seat. I couldn’t breathe. This area was desolate. There was no one around to see. My phone was gone, flung somewhere into the wreckage. The door of the other car finally opened. Helen emerged, teetering on high heels. With tears already streaming down her face, she made a phone call. A few minutes later, Ethan’s car screeched to a halt nearby. “Ethan! Help me!” I managed to gasp, the pain in my ribs blinding. “Ethan, honey! Over here!” Helen cried from where she was now sitting on the pavement, clutching her ankle and shivering. Ethan’s eyes darted between me, covered in blood and struggling for air, and Helen, with a minor scrape on her ankle. He clenched his jaw, and then walked right past me to scoop Helen into his arms. “Ethan!” I screamed, using the last of the oxygen in my lungs. “Help me first! Just… call 911! I can’t… I can’t breathe…” “Stop being so dramatic,” he snapped, his voice laced with annoyance. “It won’t take me long to get her to the hospital. I’ll send an ambulance back for you. Can’t you stop competing with her for one second? Can’t you see how much danger she’s in?” “Ethan, I—” But he was already gone, placing Helen gently in his car. My pleas were lost in the dust kicked up by his tires as he sped away. I don’t remember passing out. I don’t remember who found me or called the police. I woke up in a hospital. Thanks to a passerby, I had received treatment in time. My injuries were serious, but not life-threatening. The first thing I did was file a police report. I found out which room Helen was in. The license plate from the scene matched her car, and the police immediately opened an investigation. But when they questioned her, Helen just wept. “I’m so sorry… sister. I don’t know what happened… I… I was having an episode.” “An ‘episode’ gives you the right to kill someone?” I screamed, slamming my hand on the table. “Do you have any idea how close I was to dying?” “That’s enough!” Ethan shoved me back. “She has depression! Stop harassing her!” “Depression?” I frowned. Of course, a psychiatric evaluation report was promptly shoved in my face. “She was in the middle of a depressive episode! Do you have any idea how much she suffers?” he roared. I took the report, and a bitter laugh escaped my lips. “You can buy one of these from any shady clinic for the right price. What kind of ‘depressive episode’ allows someone to so precisely find a spot with no cameras and keep their foot floored on the accelerator? This wasn’t an episode, it was attempted murder!” “Why can’t you just leave a sick person alone? Does she have to die before you believe she’s ill?” Ignoring Ethan’s fury, I grabbed the front of Helen’s hospital gown. “Fine. Let’s have the police doctors determine if she’s really sick.” “Ahh! No!” Helen started trembling violently. I had barely touched her, but she flinched back as if I’d struck her, stumbling and crashing into a medical cart. The equipment clattered to the floor, and a sharp edge sliced her arm. Police officers rushed into the room. Ethan’s jaw was tight with rage. “Officer, I’d like to report Ms. Amelia Vance for assault and disorderly conduct!” Soon after, Helen had a new psychiatric evaluation. This one was stamped and signed by a reputable doctor. When Ethan personally handed the report to the authorities, I saw the doctor’s signature. It belonged to one of Ethan’s business partners. “Ethan, I’m the victim here!” I cried, my voice raw. He instinctively moved to shield a cowering Helen. “Alright. According to the public security laws, you’ll be held in a detention center for a while. I’ll come get you in fifteen days.” Over his shoulder, I saw a triumphant smirk flash across Helen’s face. And then I understood. All of it. It was her plan from the start. My flight was in two days. Fifteen days in jail, and I would miss the deadline for my overseas transfer. My position was a one-off opportunity. If I didn’t show, Ethan could easily use his influence to get Helen the job instead. And she, thanks to her “mental health issues,” would walk away without facing any legal consequences. “Ethan, you can’t do this to me! You’re fabricating evidence!” Helen’s eyes welled with tears again. “Sister, do I really have to die before you’ll believe me?” With a dramatic cry, she lunged toward the wall, ready to smash her head against it. Ethan shot out a hand, cushioning the impact between his palm and the wall. Slap! His other hand struck my face, his eyes blazing with fury. “Don’t you have a heart?” “Ethan!” I screamed, trying to lunge at them, but the police, alerted by the commotion, quickly intervened and separated us. “Ma’am, if you continue, your detention will only be longer,” one of the officers warned. I could only stand there, teeth gritted, as I watched Ethan gently lead Helen away. His last words echoed in my ears. “I’ll come for you in fifteen days.” All hope drained out of me. My one chance. My escape. It was gone. I spent two days in a numb haze in the holding cell. They had taken my phone. Ms. Davenport had no idea what had happened. In a few hours, when she couldn’t reach me, she would probably leave without me… I felt a pang of guilt. She had tried to promote me so many times, and when I finally accepted, I ended up standing her up. “Amelia Vance?” A police officer was at my cell door. “Come on. Someone’s posted your bail.”

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Donald Lawson drove to pick me up. He was a man known for his cold, almost ascetic demeanor. And yet, his new secretary was sitting in the passenger seat. In that moment, I knew. This marriage wasn’t going to last. 1 The day Donald came to pick me up, I pulled open the passenger side door and froze. A young, beautiful girl was sitting there, a sweet smile on her face. “Hello, Mrs. Lawson!” Her greeting was polite. But she made no move to get out and offer me the seat. My eyes narrowed slightly as I looked past her to Donald. He was on the phone, his gaze lowered, oblivious to the undercurrent of tension crackling in the car. We were supposed to be going to an auction together tonight. It was a date I’d been looking forward to, one I had dressed for with meticulous care. I never imagined his passenger seat would be occupied by someone else. “It’s so nice to meet you, Mrs. Lawson. My name is Lily Monroe. I’m Mr. Lawson’s new assistant.” The girl’s smile was warm, revealing two shallow dimples that made her look exceptionally sweet. “I heard you were going to a private auction tonight, and I begged Mr. Lawson to let me tag along and see what it’s like. Don’t worry, I promise I won’t be a bother.” My heart sank. I knew this cool, perfect man better than anyone. He maintained a careful distance from everyone. He didn’t let people into his space easily. Our marriage had been an arrangement, a strategic alliance. We had weighed our options and chosen each other. Outsiders joked that I was signing up for a life of celibacy, a marriage in name only. But after we made it official, Donald would hold me with a surprising tenderness. In moments of passion, the corners of his eyes would flush red. “You are my wife,” he’d once told me. “We are one. You are different from everyone else.” Today, it seemed, something had changed. 2 But I’m not some wilting flower who swallows her pride. I’m Vera Harrison, a woman who has never needed to check someone’s expression before getting angry. “Get out.” My voice was ice, my face a mask. I offered no pleasantries. The girl stared at me, stunned. She clearly hadn’t expected me to be so blunt, to humiliate her so openly upon our first meeting. My tone was so harsh that Lily seemed completely at a loss. “I… I’m sorry, Mrs. Lawson.” Her voice trembled, on the verge of tears, as she scrambled into the back seat. Donald had just finished his call and looked over at us, finally sensing the atmosphere. He realized I was angry. A look of weary indulgence spread across his face. He leaned over, clicking my seatbelt into place for me. I noticed the seat had been adjusted—moved forward. Annoyance flared through me, sharp and hot, and I impatiently readjusted everything back to my settings. By the time I was done, I was seething. “This is ridiculous! Who dares to change the settings on my seat?” The air in the car turned frigid. The girl in the back was so frightened she didn’t dare make a sound. Donald’s brow furrowed slightly. “If you’re not in the mood tonight, we can just go home,” he suggested, his voice calm. In the rearview mirror, I could see the woman silently crying. I was utterly fed up. “Lily, was it? I’m not in the mood anymore. You can call yourself a cab. Mr. Lawson and I are going home.” The girl’s face went pale. She looked helplessly at Donald. He offered her no rescue. Looking completely crushed, she got out of the car. 3 Donald would never undermine me in front of others. He was a master of emotional control. That’s why he suggested we go home. Whatever the issue, we would deal with it there. It was an unspoken rule we’d had for years. “She’s just a college grad, new to the professional world,” he said, pulling me into his arms once we were inside. “Why are you making such a big deal out of this?” “It’s the first time.” Donald looked confused. “What is?” “In all these years, this is the first time you’ve ever let another woman sit in your passenger seat.” He hadn’t expected that to be the reason. Everyone in our circle knew how exceptional Donald Lawson was. The number of women who desired him was countless. But he had always been impeccably self-disciplined, navigating a world of temptations without ever being swayed. A faint smile touched his lips, and he gently ruffled my hair. “I can’t believe I finally managed to make you jealous.” He leaned in to kiss me, his nose brushing against my cheek. “She’s my subordinate, Vera. Nothing more. There will never be anything else between us.” He cupped my face in his hands, his gaze locking with mine as he gave me his solemn promise. 4 A woman’s intuition is rarely wrong. Even though I had only met Lily once, my gut told me she had other ideas about her relationship with Donald. I thought my initial show of force would be enough to put her in her place. I was wrong. The necklace from the auction, the one that was supposed to be for me, appeared around her neck the very next day. Hannah, Donald’s chief assistant, sent me a photo and a screenshot of a social media post. In the photo, the crescent-moon diamond necklace rested against Lily’s pale skin, making her look even more delicate and lovely. Her eyes were swollen, but a small smile played on her lips. It seemed she’d had a good cry last night and received a rather generous gift as compensation. The screenshot was of Lily’s Instagram story: [The CEO says a girl has to stay strong even when she’s been wronged! Wiping my tears and getting back to it, sir! 🫡] The post was accompanied by a few determined-looking emojis and a picture of the necklace nestled in its box. For a moment, my blood ran cold. It’s embarrassing to admit, but her little performance provoked me so much that I almost lost my composure. It was an awful feeling, like finding a smear of dried blood on your favorite silk scarf. The feeling was new to me. My first instinct was to jump in my yellow Ferrari, push it to 110 mph, and slap that woman across the face. But then I looked at my own hands and realized that even considering such a cheap, scheming girl was beneath me. I made a call to Wendy at Hermès. Wendy’s voice was practically buzzing with excitement. “Mrs. Lawson, don’t you worry,” she promised. “Even if I have to clear out every boutique in New York, I will get the inventory together and have everything delivered to you today!” And so, that afternoon, before the workday was over, every single executive assistant and general office staffer at Lawson Corporation headquarters—all forty-six of them, everyone except Lily—received a generous gift from the CEO’s wife: a twelve-thousand-dollar Hermès necklace. While the individual price couldn’t compare to the two-hundred-thousand-dollar auction piece, the sheer volume of the gesture made a statement. It was a leveling of the playing field. Hannah handled the delivery with perfect finesse. Each recipient was instructed to post a picture on their social media with a specific caption: [The President’s wife says every girl deserves better! #girlboss] The women were, of course, delighted to comply. As assistants, they were the nerve center of the company’s gossip mill. Who wouldn’t happily post a picture of a gift from the CEO’s wife? Some of the savvier ones even added their own flair: [Mrs. Lawson knows how to play the game!] Within half an hour, the entire company knew that the President’s wife had gifted them all Hermès necklaces. As for the reason why, the rumor mills were already churning at full capacity. Lily’s face was ashen. She looked deeply humiliated, and with red-rimmed eyes, she fled to the bathroom to take off the diamond necklace. Two colleagues who came in to touch up their makeup saw her and let out a knowing, derisive snort. Mortified, Lily lowered her head and hurried out, the sound of their unrestrained laughter following her. Her cheeks burned as she placed the necklace back in its box. She returned it to Donald, untouched. 5 Donald had just finished a video call with a partner. He looked up to see the girl, who had clearly been crying again, clutching the necklace box and staring miserably at her feet. “What’s wrong?” he asked, puzzled. Before Lily could speak, fresh tears began to fall. She sobbed softly, the picture of pitiable grief. “Mr. Lawson, please, take this back. I can’t accept it.” A flicker of annoyance crossed Donald’s stern face. His instincts told him something had happened, but he didn’t press her. He just watched her, waiting. Lily bit her lip, hesitating, before finally telling him everything that had happened in the office that day. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Lawson. I’m always causing you trouble,” she whispered between sobs. “I just posted on my socials to try and cheer myself up. I don’t know how Mrs. Lawson found out about it.” She looked up at him, as helpless as a cornered rabbit. “I didn’t think she would be so angry… Mr. Lawson, I want to apologize to her. I can explain everything to her face-to-face.” Donald never looked at social media. His life was consumed by work. But as the CEO of a massive corporation, he was all too familiar with the vicious rumor mill. His already stern expression grew even colder. “I see,” he said, his voice low and heavy. 6 That evening, Donald brought Lily home. The girl stood timidly behind him. “I asked Lily to come so she could clear this up with you in person,” Donald said with a sigh. “Vera, Lily is just my secretary. As an apology for what happened yesterday, I gave her a gift. That’s all.” I stirred my spoon in the bird’s nest soup the housekeeper had prepared for me and finished the last sip. “Mrs. Lawson, I’m so sorry.” Lily’s apology was sincere as she bowed deeply. She looked frail and frightened. “It was the first time I’d ever received such an expensive gift. I got carried away. If I did something to upset you, please tell me. I’ll change, I promise!” I raised an eyebrow. “Lily Monroe, is it?” She glanced at Donald, as if seeking courage from him, before slowly nodding. The sight of her, like a naive calf trying to lock horns with me, was almost laughable. “I’m not your teacher, and I’m not your boss. I don’t have time to teach you how to behave,” I said, my voice cool. “But I am Donald Lawson’s wife. And if anyone dares to blur the lines with my husband, I won’t be giving them a second chance.” The girl had probably never encountered someone so direct in her life. Her face, already flushed with embarrassment, now just looked pitiful. “Vera, Lily came here to apologize,” Donald interjected. He knew my temperament and my methods. Even if he didn’t approve of my actions today, he understood why I did it. So instead of arguing, he had agreed to let Lily come and apologize. It was his concession, his attempt to clear the air. We were both intelligent people. A single look was enough to convey our meaning. “I understand,” I said, deciding to give Donald this one chance. After all, he hadn’t actually cheated. “But there won’t be a next time. Not with anyone.” 7 “You didn’t have to resort to those kinds of tactics to deal with a young girl,” Donald brought up later, before we went to sleep. “You should have told me first.” I sat at my vanity, brushing my hair, and met his eyes in the mirror. “You knew I liked that necklace, yet you gave it to another woman. Don’t I have a right to be angry?” I couldn’t imagine it. This perfect man… if he became tainted, could I still love him the way I did? Donald remained calm. He went to the bar and poured himself a glass of ice water. “She cried all night because of your misunderstanding,” he explained. “When I saw how swollen her eyes were this morning, I gave her the necklace as an apology. It was an impulsive gesture.” His story was flawless. I studied him for a long time, my expression cold. Two hundred thousand dollars was a trivial amount to us. Giving it away on a whim was plausible. It all depended on whether the recipient was worth it. His fingers tapped against the marble countertop. He was waiting for me to process his words. This was the first time a third party had caused a rift in our relationship. Our upbringing and refined sensibilities made us both weary of such drama. We were people who valued decorum. “Donald, I love you.” His fingers stilled. He clearly hadn’t expected me to say that. “I love the untarnished version of you. That’s what sets you apart,” I said, my voice soft but firm. “You used to keep all women at a distance because you have a need for emotional purity, because you wanted a clean marriage. I wasn’t always like that, but your values influenced me. Now, our goals are the same.” I held his gaze in the mirror. “I hope our marriage never has to face a crossroads.” “It won’t,” Donald said, a note of frustration in his voice. “I haven’t done anything.” 8 Donald was an exceptionally perceptive man. He knew I was bothered, and he wouldn’t give Lily any more room for delusion. Without the CEO’s favor, Lily, as an intern, was relegated to the most basic tasks. Before, she might have had a chance at the front desk rotation. Now, Hannah didn’t even put her on the schedule. I never told anyone to ostracize her. Since Donald understood my boundaries, I trusted him completely. But in a place like this, I didn’t need to give any orders. There were always people eager to curry favor with the powerful and trample on the weak. Within two weeks, the new secretary couldn’t handle the demotion and the psychological toll. She lost a noticeable amount of weight. The turning point came after an important executive meeting. That day, Lily was assigned to clean the small conference room by herself. Dressed in a skirt suit, she was kneeling on the floor, painstakingly scraping a piece of gum off the carpet with a small blade. Donald, who had returned to retrieve a file, walked in on this scene. Sensing someone behind her, the girl scrambled to her feet, mortified. Donald’s gaze was deep and cold. His silent stare stripped away the last of Lily’s pride. “Mr. Lawson.” Tears dripped from her eyes. They weren’t an act. Donald had always been the sun she admired but could never touch. Just as she was beginning to accept her fate at the company’s periphery, he saw her like this, at her lowest. Lily wanted nothing more than to push past him and run. In just two weeks, the once bright and cheerful girl had become this fragile. It was the first time I had ever seen Donald truly lose his temper. When he came home that night, he slapped the glass of water I offered him out of my hand, shattering it on the floor. Water splashed everywhere. “Why won’t you just leave her alone?” he roared. “Vera, I respect you, I love you, and I have tolerated your insults and cruelty towards her again and again. What kind of sick pleasure do you get from bullying someone weaker than you?” I remembered then. When Donald was studying abroad, his younger sister, who was in middle school, had committed suicide after being relentlessly bullied. It was a scar on his soul that had never healed, and he despised bullying with a passion. “Vera, don’t let me see you use these tactics to hurt someone ever again,” he warned, his voice shaking with rage. “Or I will not stand by and do nothing.” I stared at the man who had completely lost control. For the first time in our marriage, Donald was yelling at me, had lost his reason, over another woman—and for something I hadn’t even done. The feeling was sickening. Like shattering glass. Like spilled water that could never be gathered again.

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Damian and my childhood best friend, Rick, got into a fight. Over a scholarship girl. In the sterile corridor of the hospital, I knelt before Damian, dabbing antiseptic on his split lip. He watched me through narrowed eyes, his gaze sharp and calculating. “Bella told me you accused her of stealing money back at the dorms. Is that true?” Bella. The scholarship girl. There was no way to deny it. “Yes,” I whispered. Damian’s voice remained deceptively gentle. “Then when we get back, you’ll kneel on the gravel path for three hours. As penance.” I accepted, the familiar sting of submission already settling in my gut. But from the side, Rick kicked a chair, the metal shrieking against the linoleum. “Zoe, have you lost your goddamn mind? Where’s your spine? Are you just going to let him walk all over you like this?” I turned to look at him, my expression unreadable. “Mr. Kesling lent me the money. I owe him this.” Rick’s face went rigid. I could see the memory flash in his eyes—a year ago, when he’d frozen me out for Bella’s sake. When he’d left me standing outside his door, refusing to lend me the money for my mother’s surgery. 1 “Bella was telling me today, about last year… our freshman year…” Damian looked at me, his voice a soft murmur that did little to hide the steel beneath. “You accused her of stealing money. Did that happen?” The hand holding the cotton swab trembled slightly. Bella and I were roommates. And yes, last year, I’d found the $2,000 in cash I’d lost tucked under her pillow. She insisted someone had framed her, planting it there to make her look like a thief. In the end, the matter was dropped, unresolved. But Bella was the girl Damian had placed on a pedestal. Arguing was pointless; he would only ever believe her. So I just said, “Yes.” I added, “I’ll apologize to her when I get back to campus tomorrow.” Damian shook his head, a slow, deliberate motion. “Not enough.” “When we get home, you’ll go out to the gravel path by the entrance. Three hours. On your knees.” In my periphery, I saw Rick’s head snap in our direction. “Okay,” I agreed, as if he’d just asked me to pass the salt. I went back to cleaning the cut on his cheekbone. That’s when Rick shot to his feet, sending his chair clattering to the floor. His brow was knitted in a furious, frustrated knot. He looked at me with a pained disbelief. “What happened to you, Zoe? How did you become such a doormat?” he demanded, his voice raw. “Are you going to let him degrade you like this for the rest of your life?” Damian merely arched an eyebrow, his gaze dropping to me, waiting for my reaction. I had just finished patching him up. I stood and turned to Rick, my voice quiet as I defended the man beside me. “Mr. Kesling lent me a great deal of money. Doing this for him is the least I can do.” Rick froze. Under the harsh, overexposed glare of the fluorescent lights, the color seemed to drain from his face. He remembered. He remembered that night last year when he’d shut the door in my face, refusing to lend me the money for my mother’s life-saving surgery. Back then, the rumor about Bella stealing had been spread by our other two roommates. Rick assumed I was the one who started it. He gave me the silent treatment. I stood outside his family’s mansion, screaming his name until my throat was raw, begging him just to see me. He never came out. That was the day my nearly four-year crush on Rick finally died. His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Zoe… I’m sorry. I didn’t know you came to me that night because of…” “It’s fine,” I cut him off. “You’re just a friend. You were under no obligation to lend me anything.” The word “friend” seemed to pierce him. “Just a friend?” Before I could answer, Damian rose, slinging his suit jacket over his shoulder. He smiled at me. “Are you two done catching up?” I knew that tone. It was the signal that his patience had worn thin. I returned to his side, and we walked away. As we reached the stairwell, a nurse called out Rick’s name. “That cut on your leg needs stitches. You won’t be able to walk on your own afterward. Do you have any family or friends here with you?” Rick’s eyes found mine. Even at six-foot-one, framed by the long, desolate hallway, he looked fragile and utterly alone. Damian’s footsteps were already fading down the hall. He wouldn’t wait for me. I pulled my gaze away and hurried to catch up. Behind me, I heard Rick’s quiet answer to the nurse. “No.” “I’m alone.” 2 In the back of the Maybach, Damian leaned back against the leather, his eyes closed. He spoke into the quiet. “Do you feel wronged?” It took me a second to understand. “Sir?” The man opened his eyes, fixing me with a look of detached curiosity. “Being forced to kneel.” “No. Not at all,” I repeated, the words tasting like ash. “It’s what I owe you, Mr. Kesling. When I had nowhere else to turn, you were the one who paid for the specialists to operate on my mother. You saved her life.” I looked down at my hands. “Kneeling for three hours is nothing compared to that.” He propped his head on his hand, a lazy grace in the movement. “Then would you do one more thing for your Mr. Kesling?” Damian was pursuing Bella. But Bella was in a flirtatious limbo with Rick. Damian found Rick to be an eyesore. “How about you go after Rick?” he suggested, his voice smooth as silk. “I hear you two were childhood sweethearts. It seems like a perfect match, doesn’t it?” For the first time, I felt the air in the spacious car grow thin, so thick and heavy I could barely breathe. Damian didn’t press me for an answer. He crossed his legs, his fingers tapping a silent, rhythmic beat on his knee. After a long moment, I made my decision. I looked up at him. “Mr. Kesling, from now on, can the things I do for you count as payments toward my debt?” His gaze slowly drifted back to me. I’d shed the last of my pride a year ago, when I was on my knees begging strangers for money for my mom. I felt no shame now as I explained. “From her admission to her discharge, my mother’s medical expenses totaled half a million dollars,” I said, my voice steady. “For instance, if I agree to pursue Rick and complete this task for you… could you deduct a portion of that debt?” He watched me, his expression unreadable. “And when the debt is fully paid?” The thought of that day, of true freedom, brought a small, involuntary smile to my lips. “Then I can finally leave.” The car fell silent. I risked a glance at Damian’s face. He had turned away, the upper half of his face cloaked in shadow, hiding his emotions. But his voice, when he spoke, was as light and careless as ever. “Fine.” “This task is worth fifty thousand.” My eyes widened. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, a flicker of light sparked in their deadened depths. I never expected him to offer so much. I thought it would be ten, maybe twenty thousand at most. A wave of hope washed over me—if I was lucky, I could be free in just a couple of years. I had no idea that just one month later, Damian would be the one to tell me, his voice raw and broken: “As compensation… your debt is wiped clean.” 3 That night, as I knelt on the sharp gravel of Damian’s driveway, my phone rang. It was Rick. “Zoe, if you pay him back, you won’t have to listen to him anymore, right?” he asked, his voice strained. “Tell me how much you owe. I’ll pay it for you.” I didn’t agree. It would just be trading one master for another. Besides, I already had a deal with Damian. My mind was already churning, formulating a plan to win Rick over as I spoke. “Are you on campus tomorrow around noon? I’d like to take you to lunch.” The other end of the line went silent. After a moment, his voice came back, laced with a wounded pride. “Are you finally ready to make up with me? I thought you were going to write me off for good.” A year ago, when he found out the real reason I needed the money, he’d tried to apologize relentlessly. But back then, the resentment was too fresh, too raw. And with my mom’s surgery looming, I had no energy for him. Eventually, he stopped trying, and we stopped talking. Even when we passed each other on campus, we were like strangers. A complete break. Until today, when his fight with Damian landed them both in the hospital. I recalled his favorite foods. “There’s a new artisanal Italian place that opened just off campus. My treat.” He made a series of disgruntled noises, a mixture of petulance and the spoiled pride of a rich kid. “Hmph.” “Okay,” he finally grumbled. “I’m holding you to that. Don’t you dare stand me up.” “Tomorrow, 11:30 AM. I’ll wait for you outside your dorm.” 4 After hanging up, the pain in my knees became a screaming agony. I checked the time. Not even thirty minutes had passed. If I knelt for the full three hours, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to walk to lunch with Rick tomorrow. Just as I was debating whether to reschedule, the front door of the villa opened. Damian’s assistant walked out. He told me I could get up. “Mr. Kesling said the campus dorms are likely locked for the night. He’s had the guest room on the first floor prepared for you. You can stay here tonight.” He added, “There’s also some medicated cream for your knees in the room.” I pushed myself up, my joints protesting, and whispered a quiet, “Thank you.” Damian’s bedroom and study were on the third floor. He rarely came down. But when I woke up in the middle of the night for a glass of water, I ran right into him, looking drained from a long night of work. “Getting some water, sir?” I asked. He leaned against the banister, his voice weary. “Yeah.” I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, went to the wet bar, and poured two glasses of water, handing one to him. Just as I was about to say goodnight and head back to my room, the power went out. The entire villa plunged into darkness. I froze. I remembered: Damian was night-blind. A moment later, I heard his voice, laced with a wry amusement. “Got a minute?” By the faint moonlight filtering through the windows, I could see him toying with his glass, his eyes unfocused, staring into the blackness. His tone was half-joking. “It seems I can’t quite make it back to my room on my own.” I switched on my phone’s flashlight, scanning the area. There was nothing for him to hold onto. I had no choice but to offer my hand. “Mr. Kesling, here. Grab my sleeve.” “I’ll guide you back.” He couldn’t see, so when he reached out, his fingers brushed against my wrist before sliding down to grip the cuff of my sleeve. The solid wood stairs creaked under our feet. The vast, silent villa was filled only with the sound of our steady footsteps and the soft whisper of our breathing. When we reached the third floor, I forgot to warn him about the last step. Damian stumbled, lurching forward. “Mr. Kesling!” I reacted instinctively, trying to catch him. But at six-foot-two, he was far too heavy for me to support. Instead, he fell towards me. Luckily, my back was to a wall. He threw a hand up to brace himself, and in the sudden, clumsy movement, his lips brushed against the side of my neck. I was practically pinned against the wall by his body. My entire body went rigid. A strange, tingling numbness spread from the point of contact on my neck. The man in front of me froze for a second, too. His voice, for the first time, was devoid of its usual amusement. “Sorry, Zoe.” I scrambled away from the wall and quickly opened his bedroom door. “You’re here. You can just… go straight in.” My voice was rushed. “I’ll head back downstairs.” He must have sensed my panic. He didn’t insist I help him further, just gave a low, “Okay.” I turned and fled down the stairs. 5 I barely slept that night. The next day, I was exhausted during my lunch with Rick. He noticed I wasn’t eating much. He misinterpreted my fatigue as disinterest. He started sulking, stabbing at the pasta on his plate with his fork. “If you don’t want to make up, just say so,” he muttered. “You don’t have to force yourself to have lunch with me.” I poured him a glass of water and pushed it toward him, stifling a yawn. “I’m sorry,” I said, my voice soft as I tried to soothe his bruised ego. “I didn’t sleep well last night. It’s not that I don’t want to be here with you.” I wracked my brain for a way to fix it. “If this was a bust, how about I make it up to you? I’ll treat you to something else tomorrow.” His fork paused for a few seconds before he resumed eating. “Tomorrow…” He kept his eyes down, avoiding my gaze. “Tomorrow I already have plans with Bella.” “She said she’s never had proper Japanese food. There’s a new omakase place downtown, so I’m taking her to try it.” That woke me up. I nodded slowly. “Oh. Okay, no problem. Some other time, then.” For the rest of the meal, I barely spoke. I was disappointed, yes. Rick was still hung up on Bella. My mission was going to be an uphill battle. 6 Over the next week, I managed to get Rick to hang out with me three times. We had dinner, saw a movie, worked on a paper at the library. The other four days, he was with Bella. Today, he canceled on me again. He sent a text. The reason: he was taking Bella to an amusement park tomorrow. At the same time, Damian, who had been away on a business trip for three days, returned. He called me. “Zoe, I just landed. Come have dinner with me.” It was a good opportunity to report on my progress—or lack thereof. On my way to meet him, another text from Rick came in. When I opened our chat, I realized I’d forgotten to reply to his last message. Rick: Zoe, are you mad? Me: No, don’t worry about it. You two have fun. 7 Inside the upscale steakhouse, my phone buzzed incessantly. It was Rick again. Rick: I heard there’s a fireworks show at the waterfront tonight. I’m free, actually. Want to go? I put down my fork and typed a reply. Me: I’m out for dinner. I can’t make it back in time. He was sharp. He sensed it immediately. Rick: With Damian? Me: Yeah. Back when I had a crush on him, cheering him up was second nature. Now, I just fumbled awkwardly for something to say. Me: This place is really good. We should come here together sometime. I think you’d like it. Rick didn’t reply. I put my phone down, deflated, wondering what I’d said to upset him this time. Across the table, Damian glanced up at me. “Having trouble with Rick?” He stirred his soup with a detached air. “You can switch tasks, if you want. We can just pretend I never suggested it.” That was fifty thousand dollars of my debt. I couldn’t give up that easily. “No, it’s not that hard,” I said quickly. “I… I used to have a crush on him. I know everything he likes. Just give me a little more time. I think it’ll work.” As the words left my mouth, Damian’s spoon slipped from his grasp, clattering onto the floor. A waiter hurried over to clean it up and brought him a new one. It was only then that Damian seemed to snap out of his trance. He offered a faint smile. “You had a crush on him?” he asked. “You never mentioned that before.” “I didn’t want to bring up painful memories,” I replied. His smile seemed to fade. “It seems you really liked him, then.” I didn’t want to continue this conversation, so I changed the subject. “Are you free tomorrow, Mr. Kesling?” “What? Rick isn’t available, so you’re asking me out?” I stared at him, bewildered. His tone had taken on a strange edge, a sharp mix of sarcasm and annoyance. “…No,” I said, pushing down my confusion. “Rick is going to the amusement park with Bella tomorrow. If you’re free, we could go too. I can keep Rick occupied so you can have some time alone with her.” Damian let out a soft laugh. He had just gotten off a plane; he should have been hungry. But he’d barely touched his food. Now, he tossed his fork aside completely. His gaze fell on the salad in front of him, his voice still infuriatingly polite. “When you’re finished, have the driver take you home. I’d like to be alone for a while.” 8 After I got home, I never heard from Damian. I assumed he’d decided against going to the park. Then, scrolling through my phone, I saw Bella’s new post. [Gloomy, rainy day. My hand is acting up again.] The picture was of the back of her hand—pale, delicate, and long-fingered. Damian had liked the post. A few minutes later, his assistant called me. “Mr. Kesling has decided. He’s going to the amusement park tomorrow. Please be ready, Ms. Cross.” After hanging up, I couldn’t help but recall the story of how Damian fell for Bella. On the first day of freshman orientation, Bella had been on her way to campus when she came across a car wreck. Inside, she found Damian, unconscious. Just moments before the car exploded, she managed to drag the man, who was much larger than her, to safety. In the process, she fractured her right hand. The injury left her with a permanent side effect. Every time the weather turned damp and cold, it would ache. When I first heard the story, I didn’t doubt it for a second. The Bella who had just arrived at college was sweet and kind, if a little naive. But because she came from a small town, her clothes, her accent, her mannerisms—they were all targets for the other two girls in our dorm. They mocked her relentlessly. Over time, she adapted. She became more polished, more “city.” But her personality changed, too. She grew more reserved, more sensitive. One evening, we were hanging out laundry on the balcony together. I noticed she wasn’t wearing her usual uniform of jeans and plain t-shirts anymore. “New style? It looks great on you,” I commented casually. She turned to me, a tight smile on her face. “What’s wrong? Am I not allowed to change? I bet you’d all prefer it if I stayed the little country bumpkin forever, just to make yourselves look better, right?” She threw her old clothes into the trash without a second thought, as if she were severing ties with her past once and for all.

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1. A university junior contacted me for an interview about “Seven Years of Love,” referencing my past with Alexis Medlock—our romance still legendary on campus forums. “Are you still as in love?” she asked. “No,” I said. “We’re divorcing.” She looked crushed. “No chance to fix things?” Truth was, I only realized two weeks ago: Alexis had stopped loving me. It began with a small fight. My seasonal illness always required special medication—Alexis used to portion doses with care, leaving notes saying how many to take. That day, the drawer was empty. Since we’d graduated and entered the professional world, Alexis had been working himself to the bone. He was always busy, always stressed. I told myself he’d just forgotten. I tried calling him, but his line was busy. I sent him a text, asking him to pick up a box of my medicine on his way home. It wasn’t something you could get on a delivery app, and I was too dizzy to even get out of bed. Hours passed with no reply. I figured he was just swamped. I spent two agonizing hours wrestling with a fever and a spinning head. When Alexis finally came home, his hands were empty. “My medicine?” I asked, my voice weak. He frowned. “What medicine?” He checked his phone then and saw my message. I expected him to say he’d go out and get it right away, or at least order a courier. He did neither. Instead, he looked at me with an expression bordering on disgust. “Have you completely lost all ability to function?” he snapped. “It’s just a box of pills, Anna. Did you really have to wait for me to get it? I’m busy. Couldn’t you have just gotten it yourself? Can’t you be a little more considerate for once?” It was the first time I had ever seen him truly angry. His voice was harsh. I sniffled, my voice thick from my cold. “Okay. I get it.” Humiliation… helplessness… pain… The emotions crashed over me, suffocating me. I had tried so hard not to be a burden. I knew how busy he was. I rarely bothered him, terrified of being seen as a nuisance. When the lightbulb in the living room burned out, I watched a tutorial online and replaced it myself. My fever was raging. Alexis’s image blurred before my eyes, splitting into two. As my consciousness started to fade, I gripped the sharp corner of the bedside table, the pain a welcome anchor to reality. “Alexis,” I rasped, “could you please just call…” 911. I never got the word out. He cut me off. “I have to get back to the office. Don’t bother me with little things like making a phone call. My time is valuable.” My body went rigid. My eyes burned. When did it happen? When did asking him to make a simple phone call for me become an imposition? Alexis, what happened to you? 2. “So what happened? Who took you to the hospital?” the student asked, her pen poised over her notebook. I gave a self-deprecating smile. “I did.” After he left, I squeezed the sharp corner of the table so hard my hand started to bleed, but I didn’t let go. In that last sliver of consciousness, I managed to dial 911, gasp out my address and the door code, and then I blacked out. I woke up two days later. When I checked my phone, there wasn’t a single message from Alexis. That’s when I scrolled up through our chat history. With a dawning horror, I realized it was almost entirely me initiating contact. Looking at the dates, the conversation was grayed out for nearly the entire past year. “So, was it just that Alexis was too busy and neglected you?” she asked gently. I shook my head. “No.” After I woke up, the doctor gave me the all-clear for discharge. I was at the cashier’s office, waiting to pay my bill, when I saw him. Alexis. He was at the front of the line, paying for something. When he got his receipt, I followed him, silent as a shadow. For a wild moment, I entertained a fantasy, a plot twist straight out of a novel: maybe his sudden change in behavior was because he was secretly dying of some incurable disease. I trailed him to a hospital room. He walked over to a young woman with pigtails. Her face lit up when she saw him. “Alexis, thank you so much for this,” she said, her voice bright and cheerful. “You’re so busy at work, I feel bad making you run these little errands for me.” Alexis’s voice was impossibly gentle. “You just focus on getting better. I’m here for you.” A hot rush of anger surged through me. I threw open the door and stormed in. Alexis looked up, first with surprise, then with a deep frown. “What are you doing here?” “So this is your ‘busy schedule’?” I demanded, my voice shaking. I desperately wanted him to give me a plausible explanation, any excuse I could cling to. Honestly, I was ashamed of myself in that moment. I should have been the fiery heroine from a movie, slapping him across the face and spitting the word “divorce” at him. But I couldn’t. Alexis grabbed my arm and dragged me out of the room. “Have you lost your mind? This is a hospital, not a place for you to make a scene.” “Make a scene?” I shrieked, all reason gone. “You told me you were busy with work! Is this ‘work’? Hanging out with another woman?” My voice echoed down the sterile hallway, drawing stares from passersby. Alexis was like a robot, his voice devoid of any emotion. “She’s my apprentice, a fresh college graduate. Is it a crime to help her out a little?” Help her out? All the suppressed emotions of the past few weeks erupted. “I asked you to get me one box of medicine, and you couldn’t be bothered! You said you were busy, that I was wasting your time…” “It’s not the same, Anna! You’re twenty-seven years old! You’re an adult!” A suffocating wave of despair washed over me. He was right. I had almost forgotten. We had been together for seven years, from the time I was twenty to the woman I was now. When I looked at him again, my eyes were so red they felt like they were bleeding. But there was no trace of sympathy or guilt on his face. Only impatience. In that instant, all my strength drained away. I had no fight left in me. I gave him one last look and walked away. 3. “Did he come after you?” I looked at her, my mind drifting back to that day. After leaving the hospital wing, I went back to the cashier, paid my bill, and left. In the taxi, an emotional advice show was playing on the radio. The host was discussing a familiar topic. 【What kind of couple can survive the seven-year itch?】 I had once asked Alexis about that. I told him how so many couples fall out of love before the seven-year mark, and I asked him what would happen if he didn’t love me anymore. He had turned to the crowded plaza we were in and shouted at the top of his lungs, “Alexis Medlock will love Anna Reed forever! For the rest of his life! What seven-year itch? I’m going to be with Anna forever!” He was so reckless, so unconcerned with the strange looks he was getting. In that moment, I truly believed we would be together for a lifetime, that the seven-year itch was something that happened to other people. But I got home that day, and Alexis never called. Instead, his apprentice did. “Anna,” she said, her voice dripping with faux innocence. “I’m so sorry for the misunderstanding. Alexis was just helping me out because he felt sorry for me. The company really is that busy. He wasn’t lying to you.” He hadn’t lied. But he hadn’t cared either. The old Alexis would never have abandoned me to take care of someone else. The old Alexis remembered every little thing about me. If he accidentally made me angry, he would rush out and buy me my favorite stuffed animal to make it up to me. When I was sick, his eyes would well up with tears and he’d whisper, “Why isn’t it me who’s sick?” He even tried to catch my colds by cuddling with me, earning a stern lecture from our doctor. His tenderness was reserved only for me. When a cousin’s daughter was in the hospital, and they asked him to watch her for one night, he refused. “I can give you money,” he’d said, “but I can’t stay. I have to take care of Anna.” Back then, he never found me annoying. He never treated me with the cold indifference he did now. But the Alexis of today… he didn’t even want to talk to me. He didn’t want to see me. 4. “Why were you so sure he didn’t want to see you?” My thoughts were pulled back to ten days ago. After our fight at the hospital, we both retreated into a stony silence. It was a cold war. The next time I saw him was when I was admitted to the hospital for a sharp pain in my abdomen. It was appendicitis. I needed minor surgery. The doctor told me I needed a family member to sign the consent form. That was the first time I called him since our fight. “Hello?” His voice was so distant, so detached. It felt like I was talking to a stranger, not the man I had shared a bed with for seven years. “I need surgery for appendicitis,” I said, my own voice flat. “The doctor needs a family member’s signature.” There was a long pause on the other end. Then, “I’m on my way.” He arrived about thirty minutes later. He didn’t ask how I was feeling. He didn’t ask if I was in pain. He didn’t seem to care that I was about to go under the knife. The old Alexis would have been a blubbering mess. “Where do I sign?” The doctor pointed to the line. Alexis scribbled his name. He looked at me then, as if he wanted to say something, but in the end, he just turned and left without a word. I didn’t know if he was still angry about our fight, or if he just genuinely didn’t want to be there. It was probably the latter. The surgery was a success, but I had to stay in the hospital for a few days to recover. In the bed across from me was a middle-aged couple. The husband had brought his wife a thermos of soup. “I told you,” she grumbled, “I don’t want chicken soup.” “It’s good for you,” he coaxed. “I’ll make you something different tomorrow.” “You’d better,” she said, but she was smiling. Then she noticed me. “Dear, where’s your family?” “They’re busy,” I said. The truth was, my parents had emigrated with my younger siblings the year I turned eighteen. I hadn’t heard from them since. I could never bring myself to admit that they had abandoned me. For a long time, I thought fate had been fair. I had lost my family, but I had gained Alexis, a man who loved me with his whole heart. Now, I had nothing. “Busy or not, they should be able to spare some time for you,” the woman clucked sympathetically. Her husband gently shushed her. “Here, young lady,” he said, offering me a bowl of their soup. “Have some.” I was about to refuse, but the woman had already pressed the warm bowl into my hands. The moment I felt its heat, the dam broke. All the strength I had been clinging to for days crumbled. I was utterly, completely alone. 5. “What happened after that?” That was five days ago. The day I was discharged from the hospital happened to be the same day Alexis’s apprentice was discharged. He had been at the hospital with her the whole time, but he hadn’t visited me once. I watched as he carried her bags, carefully helping her into a waiting car, his every move radiating a nervous tension I hadn’t seen from him in years. Not with me, at least. Maybe I had been refusing to see what was right in front of me. There is only one reason a man changes so drastically: there’s someone else. I stood there for a long time, watching them. They never even noticed me. As the car pulled away, it finally hit me. It wasn’t that Alexis had changed. It was that he had given his love to someone else. My heart shattered into a million pieces. When I got home, the apartment was exactly as I had left it. Alexis had probably forgotten this place even existed. If he didn’t want this life anymore, why was I still holding on to it? I went through the apartment and gathered all of his things. I kept a few valuable items, but the rest I packed up and sold. The space felt so empty afterward, as if I had been living there alone all along. As if the last seven years had been nothing but a dream. That’s when the thought of divorce first entered my mind. And once it was there, it took root. I hired a lawyer and had a divorce agreement drawn up. My demands were simple: one million dollars and the apartment. I wouldn’t live in it, though. I’d sell it. I didn’t contact Alexis myself. I had the lawyer do it.

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I stumbled into the study at dawn, still in pajamas. She was already at her desk. I hugged the university student I’d met last night, grumbling, “You’re up so early.” I didn’t know she was on a live conference—or that she worked for my ex-wife’s company. Across town, my ex, the CEO, slammed her laptop shut, trembling with rage. The company chat exploded. She calmly typed, “Meeting adjourned. Family matter.” Later, when I saw her, eyes burning with fury, I said nothing. Because on the day I took our company public, my wife of seven years finally threw our “wedding of the century.” But when I arrived, she was kissing an intern, who announced: “Mona saved me from an arranged marriage.” My wife held his hand, beaming. My colleagues stared, expecting an outburst. Instead, I raised my glass, chanting, “Kiss! Kiss!” After, she cornered me, icy: “That was fake. Evan’s threatening suicide because of you. Record an apology—now.” I met her gaze. “Don’t bother. Let’s divorce.” 1 Her eyes widened in disbelief, then narrowed into a cold, mocking sneer. “Tim, have you been drinking? Are you out of your mind?” “Without me, what are you?” Her gaze raked over me, dripping with a contempt she didn’t bother to hide. “Don’t you forget who gave you the chance to climb this high. Without Mona, without my family’s company, you’d still be working construction somewhere, hauling bricks for a living!” My hands, hanging at my sides, clenched into tight fists. Hadn’t I given everything for this company? The seed money was mine. The business connections were mine. The deals were mine to close, the products mine to develop. When we went public just a few days ago, I was responsible for at least sixty percent of that success. And now she claimed I rode her coattails? “You cheat on me, and you think I don’t have the right to leave?” I bit out, the words tasting like ash. “What are you talking about?” she scoffed. “Evan’s parents were trying to marry him off to some woman in her forties. I was saving him! Do you understand? I was saving his life!” Her chest heaved with indignation. “And now, because of you, his depression is back. He’s locked himself in the dressing room, threatening to slit his wrists! Are you happy now, Tim?!” What had I even done? Even someone with genuine depression wouldn’t act like this. Staring at the face I had loved for seven years, I felt no pain. Only a profound, crushing exhaustion and a sense of the absurd. “Is he really that fragile?” Anyone could see the kid was putting on an act. But Mona, she believed it with every fiber of her being. “Cut the sarcasm, Tim. If anything happens to Evan, I’ll be the first one to call the police. I’ll have you charged with harassment, defamation, and emotional distress. You’ll rot in a jail cell.” Jail… A bitter laugh escaped me. In her eyes, I was worth less than a single hair on Evan’s head. Having vented her fury, Mona’s tone cooled, but the ice remained. “I’ll say this one last time. Record the video. Post the apology to Evan. Now.” “Once his mood stabilizes and he forgives you, I will give you a wedding. A wedding of the century, even grander than today’s.” I’d heard that promise a thousand times over seven years. When the company is founded, we’ll have our wedding. When the company is stable, we’ll have our wedding. When the company goes public, we’ll… I kept waiting. And waiting. Right up until the moment she married someone else. And now, she wanted me to wait again. I took a deep breath, the stale air of seven years of broken promises threatening to burst from my lungs. I was so tired. I was done waiting. “I’m not apologizing.” I spoke the words with chilling clarity, turned my back on her, and walked away. “Tim, you get back here!” she shrieked, her voice laced with fury. I didn’t even slow down. I walked out of the hall and didn’t look back. 2 Leaving the hotel, I was heading for the parking garage when a figure darted out from the side. “Mr. Vance! There you are! Here’s the complete file for Project Horizon!” It was Kevin from the project management department, panting as he shoved a heavy binder into my hands. Startled, I took a step back, my brow furrowing. “Didn’t Evan snatch this project? Why are you giving it to me?” “Mr. Lee is busy with his wedding. He doesn’t have time for this,” Kevin said, puffing out his chest with an air of borrowed authority. “Mona gave a specific order yesterday. As the company’s first multi-billion-dollar project post-IPO, she wants you in charge.” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial, yet commanding tone. “The preliminary design proposal is due by midnight tonight. The client is getting impatient, so you’d better plan on working late.” As if sensing my hesitation, he added, his voice heavy with significance, “This came from Mona herself.” A laugh, sharp and humorless, escaped my lips. I had spent six months of my life landing this massive contract. We had just signed the papers the day the company went public. And then, with a single word from Evan, Mona had handed it over to him. A three-month intern. What did he know? Too busy getting married… “And why should I do anything she tells me to do?” I shoved the binder back into his chest. “I’m not taking this project.” Kevin’s face flushed with anger. “Mr. Vance, a wise man knows when to pick his battles. You should…” “To hell with you and your ‘wise man’ crap!” With a roar of pure frustration, I swung my arm, launching the multi-billion-dollar project file into the air. Whoosh— Pages scattered like confetti, drifting down around us in the dim evening light. Kevin stared, his mouth agape. “Tim, are you insane? Do you want to get fired?” “Fired?” I sneered, a cold smile twisting my lips. “Someone else can have the damn job. I quit.” I turned, walked into the parking garage, and drove away without a backward glance. By the time I got home, the city lights were glittering. I pushed open the door to the familiar darkness and silence. I didn’t bother with the main lights, using the dim glow from the entryway to pack what little I had left. Some clothes, a few well-read books, a small toolbox… it all fit easily into one suitcase. Suddenly, the doorbell rang. It was a courier. “Express delivery for you.” He thrust a paper bag into my hands and was gone before I could say a word. I glanced at the shipping label. The recipient was ‘Ms. Mona.’ The address was correct. It was a bag from a pharmacy. A knot of dread tightened in my stomach. I tore open the seal and looked inside. My mind went blank, as if struck by a hammer. An icy chill shot through my veins, freezing me from the inside out. Inside the bag was a box of condoms and a piece of revealing, black lace lingerie. “Ha…” I leaned against the wall, a sound that was half laugh, half sob, catching in my throat. My lungs filled with cold, empty air. The last flicker of warmth in my heart died, leaving nothing but cold, dead ash. All that righteous talk about a ‘fake wedding’ during the day. And now this… My knuckles turned white as I crushed the bag in my fist. Just then, my phone rang. It was Mona. I stared at the screen for a long, empty moment before finally answering. “Tim, Kevin told me you threw the files. What the hell is wrong with you?!” 3 “This project is our company’s reputation on the line, do you hear me?” her voice snapped, sharp and demanding. “I don’t care how you do it, but I want that preliminary proposal on my desk by midnight. Understood?” She spoke as if nothing had happened, as if today’s humiliation was just a figment of my imagination. The sheer absurdity of it all was staggering. “Why should I?” “Because I’m the CEO of this company! And because I’m your wife!” Mona’s voice rose to a screech, her fury raw and unfiltered. “Tim, you’ve grown some nerve, haven’t you? Daring to defy me?” “Do you want me to strip you of your Director title tomorrow? I’ll send you back to the mailroom and you can start from the bottom all over again. Is that what you want?” “Heh.” Seven years. I’d poured my soul into this company, and I was still just a ‘Director,’ not even a partner. If it wasn’t for the blind, all-consuming love I once had for her, what sane person would have tolerated this? A cold, mocking laugh escaped my lips. “Do you really think I give a damn about your pathetic Director title?” “You!” Mona choked, then exploded. “Then leave! If you look down on it so much, why don’t you just get out?” “Have HR process my resignation.” “Fine. After you finish the project and submit the proposal.” I had no patience left for this game. My voice was glacial. “Mona, the condoms you and Evan bought were delivered to our house. Are you still trying to play me for a fool?” She didn’t miss a beat. “What are you talking about? I never bought anything like that. You’re just making things up to slander me…” “Process the resignation.” I cut her off, refusing to listen to another lie. I hung up the phone. The next morning, I received the official termination email from HR. It was expected. I drove to the office to pack my personal belongings. Nearby, my former colleagues were gossiping. “…Mona is just spoiling Evan rotten. I heard she’s giving him that luxury condo downtown!” “That’s not all. She’s flying his parents in from their hometown to live the high life…” “The car he’s driving now, Mona bought it for him, right? He really hit the sugar mama jackpot.” I pretended not to hear, ignoring the dull ache in my chest as I packed faster. Just as I was about to leave, a familiar voice called out from behind me. “Tim, is the proposal for that project done yet?” I turned. Evan stood there, his young, harmless-looking face breaking into a look of surprise as he saw me packing. “Oh… are you leaving, Tim?” “I am,” I replied flatly. “Are you blind?” “You!” he sputtered, then stepped closer, deliberately pulling down the collar of his shirt to reveal a series of angry red marks on his neck. “You know, you’ve been here a long time, but I bet you’ve never seen Mona’s… passionate side.” Something inside my head snapped. I shot out my hand, grabbed a fistful of his collar, and dragged him into a blind spot away from the security cameras. “Tim! Let go! Are you fucking cra—” His shouts were cut short as my fist, carrying the weight of seven years of fury and betrayal, crashed into his face. He cried out, clutching his jaw as he slumped against the wall. I loomed over him, my voice dripping with disgust. “Get out.” He shot me a terrified, hateful glare before scrambling away. I walked back to my desk and placed the last of my things into a cardboard box. Just as I picked it up, Mona stormed over, her face a mask of rage. “How dare you hit Evan? Who gave you the right?” I clutched the box and kept walking. “Move.” Mona was practically vibrating with fury. She threw her arms out, blocking my path. “You think you can just assault someone and walk away? In your dreams. Apologize to Evan right now, or I’ll call the cops and have you arrested for battery. You’ll regret this for the rest of your life!” Apologize. Again. The last shred of my patience evaporated, replaced by a wave of unbearable irritation. I stared at her, my eyes as cold as if I were looking at a stranger. “While I still have an ounce of sanity left, you should take your little pet and get out of my sight,” I said, my voice dangerously low. “Otherwise, don’t blame me for what happens next.” “Are you threatening to hit me, too?” Mona’s voice was incredulous. She thrust her wrist forward, displaying the jade bracelet I had begged her to wear seven years ago. It was a family heirloom, the one my grandmother had left for her granddaughter-in-law. “If you don’t apologize, you can forget about me ever wearing this piece of junk from your family again.”

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Of all the cursed years of my life, the one where I, a male fox fey, got stuck with a “Blessed Womb” System had to be the worst. And all because I was carrying the child of a Sword Saint on the Path of Detachment. Naturally, I did the only sensible thing. I ran for the hills. 1 I was being hunted. It was completely unreasonable. I’d only pilfered a few lousy enchanted berries, but did they really need to send a whole pack of sanctimonious clerics after me, chasing me from the heavens to the earth? Still, I was a hundred-year-old fox fey of some renown. I wasn’t about to let them catch me. A frantic voice shrieked in my head. It was Pip. “Host, faint spatial fluctuations detected ahead! It’s a hiding spot, go, go, go!” Just thinking about Pip gave me a headache. It called itself the Blessed Womb System, its grand purpose being to help me “capture superior genetic material” to produce the perfect offspring. Excuse me, I’m a guy. The system was clearly defective. But there was no time to argue. I dove headfirst toward the spot Pip indicated—a seemingly ordinary cliff face. My vision blurred, and a cold so sharp it felt like a thousand needles instantly enveloped me. I shivered, realizing I’d landed in a colossal, frozen pool. The water was surrounded by ever-frost, and the air hummed with a powerful, oppressive energy. My instincts screamed that this place was bad news. Suddenly, Pip let out a cheer. “SSS-grade genetic source detected! Compatibility: 99.999%!” “Procreation protocol forcibly initiated. Binding…” Whoa, hold on. What does that even mean? Panic seized me. It was all sounding a little too real. Could it actually make me pregnant? Just then, the immense energy signature surged closer. The air fluctuated between scorching heat and freezing cold. My head buzzed, and then an impossible, searing heat exploded from the core of my being. My consciousness began to fade, my body no longer my own. I don’t know how much time passed before the chaotic haze in my mind cleared. I found myself lying naked on a massive jade slab, a dull, throbbing ache in a place I’d rather not think about. And next to me lay a man, equally naked. My eyes involuntarily drifted downward, and—holy hell, what is that? My heart leaped into my throat. I snapped my head away, then slowly, cautiously, forced myself to look at the man’s face. It was a face the entire realm knew. Coldly handsome, all sharp angles and unforgiving planes, with a severe sword-shaped mark etched between his brows. Kaelan. Sword Saint of the Path of Detachment, the youngest elder of the Aethelgard Academy. At only two hundred years old, he had already forged a Sword Heart, ascending to the rank of Sword Saint. I was so terrified my heart nearly hammered its way out of my chest. I’m dead. I’m so, so dead. I’d just done the unspeakable with the legendary killing machine himself—a man who had renounced all mortal desires and emotions. They said anyone or anything that dared to taint his sacred path would be obliterated, their very soul sliced from existence by his blade. He was going to kill me. Absolutely. I scrambled to my feet, but my legs gave out, and I stumbled, falling right on top of him. “Oof—” I bit my tongue, frantically trying to push myself up. That was close. I almost planted my face on his icy one. Pip, ever the master of bad timing, chirped excitedly. “La la la, congratulations, Host! Successful acquisition of SSS-grade genetic material! Pregnancy chance: 100%!” “Hee hee, and it’s a two-for-one special!” Seriously? With death breathing down my neck, now is not the time for jokes. Pip’s voice was a grating buzz. “Host, don’t run! This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!” “Shut up! If we don’t get out of here before he wakes up, we’re both finished.” “Ground to dust, soul scattered to the winds, you get it?” I summoned every ounce of skill I possessed and bolted out of that frozen cavern like my tail was on fire. So long, sucker. Hope we never meet again! 2 I made it out, but a sense of unease lingered. A dozen days later, I found out why. I finally understood what Pip’s “two-for-one special” meant. I was pregnant. With twins. The world tilted on its axis. I wanted to die. “Are all you Blessed Womb Systems this deranged?” I asked, my voice trembling. Pip, completely oblivious to my despair, sounded immensely proud. “Pretty amazing, right? I could get a rock pregnant if I wanted to, hehehe.” “Plus, my fetal protection functions are top-notch! As long as you’re alive, the babies will be just fine!” My vision swam. I was going to faint. I found a small, mortal town to hide in, pretending to be just another person while I fretted over the impossible situation with the kids. One day, the town burst into a frenzy. Apparently, some demons were causing trouble just outside the walls. Curiosity got the better of me, and I squeezed through the crowd to the ramparts to get a look. Wow. A figure in white hung in the air, casually flicking out waves of sword energy that turned the previously arrogant demons to dust. The skill was breathtaking. So cool. And his face… even cooler. Wait. Kaelan? My mind went blank. I nearly dropped to my knees. Why was a powerhouse like him personally descending from his mountain to deal with petty demons? It made no sense. I decided to use the crowd as cover and slip away. I’d barely taken two steps when a gaze as sharp and tangible as a physical blade locked onto me, sending a shiver down my spine. My heart pounded against my ribs, and every hair on my body stood on end. I prayed, begged, pleaded with any deity that would listen that he hadn’t recognized me. But in my panic, my left foot tangled with my right, and I face-planted spectacularly. The bag of hot, freshly roasted chestnuts I’d just bought went flying, scattering across the ground. The next second, an aura of chilling cold washed over me. “It’s you.” No preamble, no context. Just those two words. But I knew exactly what he meant. Game over. It was well and truly over. 3 The fox did not die. “Why did the Master bring someone back? Whoa, it’s a fox fey!” Honestly, death might have been preferable. This was utterly humiliating. Out of sheer terror, my fox ears and tail had popped out, and now I couldn’t get them to go away. My hundred years of suave composure—gone. Wasted. Oh, why did I ever steal those stupid berries? “What did he do to get caught by the Master himself?” “Well, he is a fox fey. Look how handsome he is…” “Shh… don’t gossip about the Master. But yeah, he’s really handsome.” My face was a mask of utter despair, but Pip was celebrating like it was New Year’s. “Host, seize this chance! This man is prime quality, top-tier! I never lie.” Thanks a lot. All I want is to live. I trailed behind Kaelan, my feet dragging, until we arrived at… somewhere. He stopped, and I huddled in a corner like a frightened quail. At this point, my fear was starting to subside. If you really thought about it, I was the one who got the short end of the stick here. Not that I’d ever dare say that out loud. He let out a soft sigh, choosing his words carefully. “You don’t need to be afraid. I just…” Suddenly, his expression shifted. A palpable wave of mana, laced with icy cold, pulsed from him, and the temperature in the room dropped several degrees. His brow furrowed as if he were fighting some immense pain. Strangely, that same bizarre heat I’d felt in the frozen pool began to stir within me again. I found myself pinned against the wall by Kaelan, his eyes clouded and unfocused. Mine were too, apparently. For some reason, his pale lips suddenly looked ridiculously inviting. … When I came to my senses again, I was tangled up with Kaelan, completely naked, my tail wrapped possessively around his waist as if it never wanted to let go. Damn my weakness for beautiful men! I gritted my teeth and tried to inch away. And then Kaelan woke up. He must have been startled, because he jerked away instantly. I heard a sound escape my lips that I couldn’t possibly describe. For a moment, both of us were frozen in a state of mutual, flustered panic. Finally, Kaelan hastily threw on his clothes and fled outside. I let out a long, shaky breath and curled up on the bed, wishing the ground would swallow me whole. We hadn’t even had a proper conversation, and we’d already explored each other… inside and out. What kind of cursed fate was this? Enough. Stop thinking about it. After dressing, I cautiously stepped outside. A sword shot out, its tip hovering inches from my throat. I shrieked in terror. “Ah, don’t kill me!” The blade trembled. Then its owner grasped the sharp edge and pushed the hilt into my hands. “I apologize,” Kaelan said, his voice strained. “I was the one who wronged you. You can kill me or punish me as you see fit.” I just stared at him, dumbfounded. Huh. Well, I guess that’s the kind of integrity you’d expect from someone who forged a Sword Heart. He was certainly… fair. But there was no way I was going to kill him. If I did, the entire world of mages would be after my hide. My life was more important. And besides, it’s not like I didn’t get anything out of it… I lowered the sword and cleared my throat dramatically. “Ahem. Well, I am a magnanimous fox. We’ll just call it even.” “I’ll be going now.” Time to run. Run fast. “Wait,” Kaelan said. 4 So, the fox ended up staying at Aethelgard. Reluctantly. It turned out Kaelan had experienced a mishap in his training, and an icy poison had invaded his body. Coincidentally, my sudden appearance and our… activities… seemed to have caused me to be afflicted by it too. I was baffled. I thought it was an aphrodisiac. I didn’t feel cold at all… As for why those activities happened, Kaelan couldn’t figure it out either. But we couldn’t leave the matter unresolved, so I reluctantly agreed to stay and help him figure it out. It’s not like things could get any worse. Pip, however, was screaming its digital head off. “Host, this is fate! A match made in heaven!” “Why do you think a Blessed Womb System was bound to you? Why did the famous Sword Saint have a mishap at that exact moment? Why did you run into each other while he was just clearing out some random demons? It’s destiny, I tell you! Destiny!” So loud. I think the system has gone insane. I was given a place on Silvermoon Peak. Kaelan said it was quiet, but I wasn’t so sure. The disciples of Aethelgard must have heard rumors, because they were constantly popping up to sneak a peek at me, their eyes gleaming with a thirst for gossip. “The Master is hiding him here. Are they, like, mates?” “He’s so beautiful. I want a fox fey for a mate too.” “But Master Kaelan is on the Path of Detachment… He’s not going to be a deadbeat dad, is he? If he is, I’ll go comfort the little fox. Maybe he’ll fall in love with me!” “Shh, keep your voice down! You’ll be in for it if the Master hears you.” “In for what?” Kaelan’s cold voice cut through the air. The disciples’ faces went sheet-white. They spun around, stammering greetings to Kaelan. “My master wanted to check my homework, Master Kaelan, I have to go.” “I need to practice my sword forms, goodbye, Master!” “My mandrakes… I think they’re about to sprout. Can’t leave them alone. Gotta go, Master!” Their excuses were pathetic, but Kaelan just nodded without a word. Over the past few days, I’d realized that despite his chilling aura, he was actually quite easy to get along with. With one exception. In bed, he somehow became incredibly… fierce. The third time the icy poison acted up, it seemed milder than before, so my mind was much clearer. Kaelan’s restrained expression, however, was driving me crazy. We foxes don’t really do “restraint.” So, I got bold. I licked him. Things spiraled out of control. And I ended up a blubbering mess again. Pip, that shameless system, was providing a running commentary in my head. “Relax, Host. Breathe.” “Sword Saint, an angle adjustment of 15 degrees is recommended for optimal ergonomics.” Me: “…#￥%&!” I couldn’t take it anymore. I begged Kaelan to slow down, but a wave of nausea hit me, and I retched right in front of him. Instantly, the look in Kaelan’s eyes was one of profound hurt. He was filled with self-doubt. “Am I… that bad?” “No, it’s not—blegh—” 5 “Pregnant?” Kaelan’s fingertips trembled. For the first time, his perpetually stoic face was a canvas of emotions: shock, doubt, disbelief, and something else I couldn’t quite decipher. He reached for my wrist, his brow furrowing deeper the longer he held it. Finally, he asked hesitantly, “Are you… actually a girl?” His gaze drifted downward, as if he didn’t quite believe it himself. I shrieked. “Male! Guy! Dude!” As for why I was pregnant, I couldn’t take it anymore. The whole story about Pip came tumbling out in a frantic, jumbled mess. Kaelan looked utterly bewildered, unsure whether to believe me or to assume I’d lost my mind. I called out to Pip. “Can you please say something to him?” Pip was thrilled. “Sure, sure! As long as he doesn’t resist, I can!” Kaelan’s mental defenses were incredibly high, so it took a while, but finally, Pip managed to connect with him. “Sword Saint, sir! I’m Pip!” “I’m the one who helped Finn get pregnant with your babies, hehehe.” “Two of them, by the way.” Kaelan fell silent. The room was so quiet it was terrifying. He just stared at my stomach, his face turning red. I’m pretty sure he wanted to punch the meddling system as much as I did. 6 Ever since he found out I was carrying his cubs, Kaelan had been acting… strange. He had long since transcended the need for food, but I hadn’t. The enchanted food at Aethelgard was plentiful, but the taste was… underwhelming. My cravings were intense, especially for the humans’ stinky tofu. If I didn’t get some, I was convinced I would die today. I was about to sneak out when Kaelan found me. “Where are you going?” I pouted, a wave of petulance washing over me. “What, am I a prisoner now? Do I have to report my every move to you?” Kaelan froze, a flicker of uncharacteristic panic in his calm eyes. “That’s not what I meant. I—I mean… if there’s something you need, I can get it for you.” My eyes lit up. I grabbed his arm. “Oh, that’s perfect! Let me tell you, there’s this stall down in the village…” Kaelan listened intently. When I was done, he said, “Wait here,” and disappeared. I hummed happily as I headed back to my room. Having someone else run your errands was the best. Half an hour later, Kaelan returned. He’d brought back a lot of things. Besides what I’d asked for, there were other snacks too. He cleared his throat, looking at the wall instead of me. “They said pregnant people often crave these things. You can… try them.” And with that, he vanished like a gust of wind. I didn’t think much of it. After stuffing myself, I felt covered in the smell of food and decided to go for a soak in the hot springs. This place was a true treasure. The spring floor was lined with warming jade, and the walls were embedded with purifying pearls. A single soak felt like it could add five hundred years to a fox’s life. And what do you know, Kaelan showed up. Huh? Why was he here? I thought he preferred cold pools. He seemed about to leave when he saw me. I knew he wasn’t one for sharing spaces, but I was in a good mood and really wanted to talk to someone. So, he wasn’t going anywhere. He kept a respectful distance, but I didn’t mind and just started chatting. “So, have you figured out what’s causing that icy poison?” He nodded. “I’m used to training in extremely cold environments. The chill from the ancient frost isn’t like normal cold; it’s much harder to dispel. Over time, it accumulated in my body until it erupted.” Ah, so that’s why he was in the hot spring now. “So… what happened with us was…” Kaelan stiffly turned his head to look at the distant mountains. His voice was soft, gentle. “I found a way to break the curse in an old text.” “The most effective way to counteract the icy poison… is through intimate union with a body of pure solar energy.” 7 A fox is a creature of fire, his fey power the essence of yang. Today, a fox discovered a secret. “Pip, this guy must be fate’s favorite child, right? The moment his poison acts up, I literally fall into his lap to cure him.” “His luck is just off the charts.” Pip had its own take. “He’s a golden ticket, Host! Latch onto the Sword Saint and enjoy life on easy mode. Becoming a great fey lord is just around the corner.” A fey lord! Hehe, does that mean I’ll get nine tails soon? Hehehe… Now, where’s Kaelan? I need to go cuddle with him.

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1 My father is Viktor “The Tsar” Volkov, head of the most powerful syndicate on the continent, and I am his chosen heir. But my nine older brothers? They worship the ground my body double walks on, letting her parade around as if she were me. The day I was to be officially named successor, Angelica snatched the moment, striding onto the dais and shooting me a look of pure provocation. “If my brothers weren’t so worried about my safety, do you really think a worthless stand-in like you would ever be allowed at a meeting this important?” In my previous life, I lived in Angelica’s shadow, bullied into submission by those same nine brothers. I took eighteen bullets meant for her and died for it. But now, I’ve been reborn. Seeing Angelica’s smug, arrogant face, I moved without thinking. The crack of my palm against her cheek echoed through the hall. “A piece of trash not even fit to shine my shoes dares to act high and mighty in front of me? You must have a death wish.” My audacious move sent a collective gasp through the assembled guests. Tears instantly welled in Angelica’s eyes. My eldest brother, Dmitri, rushed to her side, pulling her into a protective embrace. My second brother, Ivan, glared at me with pure hatred. “Scarlett! Have you lost your mind? How dare you lay a hand on my sister!” My eyes swept over the nine men—my own flesh and blood—who now surrounded Angelica, their faces contorted with rage. I let out a cold, sharp laugh. “Lost my mind? Am I the one who’s insane, or is it all of you?” I sneered. “I am the sole heir to the Volkov family. She’s just a stand-in. Even if I killed her right here, today, what could any of you possibly do about it?” Before the words had fully left my mouth, my third brother, Mikhail, lunged forward and slapped me. Hard. “Scarlett, have you played the part for so long you’ve forgotten who you are?” he snarled. “If Angelica hadn’t been kind enough to drag you out of the slums, you would have starved to death long ago! You have some nerve!” The heavy blow landed unexpectedly, a searing pain that quickly faded into a dull numbness. My ears rang, a roaring wave of disbelief washing over me. Whispers erupted around me. “All nine sons are on Miss Angelica’s side. It’s obvious she’s their real sister!” “That Scarlett girl is playing with fire, banking on a slight resemblance to cause a scene like this…” I watched Mikhail, his face a mask of self-righteousness, and a bitter, self-mocking smile touched my lips. Even though we didn’t share a mother, I had spent my last life trying desperately to win their affection. And for my efforts, they had used me as a human shield for Angelica, letting me die in a hail of gunfire. At that thought, I shifted my weight, my hand closing around the neck of a whiskey bottle on a nearby table. In one fluid motion, I brought it crashing down on Mikhail’s head. I watched, detached, as crimson blood mixed with the amber liquid, trickling down his face. “Who the hell do you think you are?” I spat, my voice dripping with venom. “A bastard son dares to strike me? Even your mother has to bow her head when she sees me.” That struck a nerve. The color drained from all nine of my brothers’ faces. My fourth brother, Alex, ground his teeth and barked at a nearby bodyguard. “Kane! What are you standing there for? Get her out of my sight!” Angelica, still sobbing, managed to pull herself together. “It’s all my fault,” she whimpered. “I couldn’t control my own staff. I’m so sorry to have made a scene.” My gaze sharpened as Kane approached me. “Kane! You’ve been by my side since we were children. We grew up together. Can you really not tell which one of us is my father’s true daughter?” Kane hesitated, his face a canvas of conflict. “I… I…” Dmitri’s expression darkened. “Kane!” he threatened. “My father is still lying in an ICU bed! If he gets out and finds out Scarlett bullied his precious little girl, he’ll have your head. And I won’t be there to save you!” Kane gritted his teeth, his eyes filled with a pained apology. “Miss Scarlett, I am grateful for everything you’ve done for me over the years. But things are different now. You need to accept the situation.” A chilling cold flooded my veins. I never imagined Kane, who had fought alongside me for years, would turn against me. “Miss Scarlett… my apologies.” With that, he moved like a phantom. But I wasn’t flustered. I stood my ground, closed my eyes, and simply listened. Amidst the chaos of the crowd, I heard it—the distinct, sharp whistle of a whip slicing through the air. My eyes snapped open. In a flash, my hand shot out and caught the leather cord just inches from my face. I smirked at Kane’s shocked expression. “Don’t you forget, Kane,” I said, my voice dangerously low. “I’m the one who taught you how to use that whip.” Taking advantage of his momentary stupor, I yanked hard, using his momentum to sweep his legs out from under him. He crashed to the floor, and I ripped the whip from his grasp. CRACK! The whip’s tail sang through the air, changing direction in a brutal arc. It connected with Angelica’s face, and in an instant, the leather tip split her cheek open in a spray of blood. She stood stunned for a second before a horrific, piercing scream tore from her throat. “Scarlett! You dare to hurt me! Brothers, kill her! Kill her for me!” I held the whip ready, my gaze fixed on my nine brothers. “Not only am I my father’s only legitimate daughter,” I said with a contemptuous laugh, “I am the next head of the Volkov Syndicate. You bastards want to touch me? Go on. Try it.” 2 My declaration was met with a wave of derisive laughter from the crowd. “Is she crazy? First, she impersonates the Tsar’s daughter, and now she’s claiming to be the next head of the Syndicate? Is she dreaming?” “Even if she were his real daughter, she’s just a girl. Besides, Viktor Volkov has nine sons! Even if they’re illegitimate, there’s no way he’d hand power over to her!” Listening to the murmurs, I let a sly smile play on my lips as I looked at my brothers, one by one. “Well, my dear brothers? Why don’t you tell them? Am I fit to lead, or not?” Dmitri avoided my gaze, his expression unreadable. The others just stammered, unable to form a coherent sentence. Of course, I knew why they couldn’t answer. They were all bastards, the result of my father’s affairs. My mother was his lawfully wedded wife, and I was his only true child. If it hadn’t been for my mother’s soft heart, her refusal to let Volkov blood be abandoned, they would have all perished in the continent’s brutal, unforgiving streets long ago. Before my father even brought them into the family, he made them sign an agreement: under no circumstances would any of the nine of them ever be eligible to lead the Syndicate. Their silence began to sow seeds of doubt among the guests. Just then, a figure burst into the hall like a storm. It was Damien Thorne, my father’s hand-picked choice for my fiancé, the eldest son of one of the continent’s most reclusive and powerful families. When my father first arranged for us to meet, my brothers had sent me away on a fool’s errand and had Angelica go in my place. With their careful maneuvering, Damien was led to believe that Angelica was the Volkov heiress, his betrothed. The moment Angelica saw him, all her feigned vulnerability returned in a flood. Damien’s eyes landed on me, and he froze for a second before a vein pulsed in his forehead. “Scarlett! You’re just a body double. How dare you act so arrogantly in front of the real thing!” he roared. “Today, I’ll teach you the price for angering your master!” His arrival was the final nail in my coffin, confirming for everyone that I was the impostor. The whispers of doubt died down, replaced by glares of disgust and scorn. Angelica hid in Damien’s arms, her eyes glinting with triumph and malice. Seeing my nine brothers and my own fiancé standing united against me, a sharp, familiar pain lanced through my heart. Thanks to my brothers’ scheming, I’d been kept in the dark. It wasn’t until my wedding day, when Angelica showed up in a gown identical to mine and stepped into my bridal car, that I learned the truth from her own lips. Damien had known all along that she was my double. He chose to swap the brides, marrying Angelica while arranging for his own family’s enemies to ambush my car. He personally sent me to my death, a sacrifice to shield the woman he truly wanted. My gaze turned to ice. “Damien! If you think you have what it takes, then come and get me.” He scoffed. “Pathetic.” He moved in a blur, so fast I barely had time to register it. I tried to sidestep, but I was a fraction of a second too late. His boot connected sharply with the back of my knee. CRACK. I collapsed, both knees slamming into the hard marble floor. The pain was excruciating, shooting straight to the bone. Damien looked down on me with contempt. “You’ve been a stand-in for so long, did you really think Angelica’s skills would magically transfer to you?” Head bowed, I suddenly began to laugh, a wild, unhinged sound. In a single, fluid motion, I drew the pistol concealed at my waist. I looked up, my eyes as red as blood. “Damien, your family has been on this continent for generations,” I said, my voice low and dangerous. “Don’t you know that the Volkovs are famous for one thing above all else? Our aim.” A gunshot ripped through the silence. The bullet struck Damien at an impossible angle, and a flower of blood blossomed on his chest as a strangled scream escaped his lips. He clutched his chest, his face pale with shock. “You… you… The Thornes will never let you get away with this.” I let out a soft, chilling chuckle. “You should be thanking me. If my aim had been off by a single millimeter, you’d be a dead man.” My sheer audacity left everyone speechless. “Could she… could she really be the Tsar’s daughter? That presence, that aura… it’s not something a normal person has…” I loomed over them, casually twirling the pistol in my hand. “Now, tell everyone. Who am I?” My brothers stared at me, their faces ashen. “Scarlett! You’re nothing but a stand-in!” Dmitri yelled, their voices merging into one defiant shout. “Even if you shoot us all, that will always be the answer!” Their unified defiance extinguished the last flicker of pity in my heart. Just as my finger tightened on the trigger, a stooped, elderly figure slowly entered the room. It was the family’s matriarch. My grandmother. “What is all this noise?” she snapped, her voice raspy. “Do you think this is a fish market?” 3 Her eyes immediately found the injured Angelica. She rushed to her side, her tone softening to a gentle coo. “My sweet treasure, who hurt you? Tell Grandma. Grandma will make them pay!” Nine fingers pointed directly at me. “The stand-in Father found for Angelica has gotten completely out of control! Not only is she trying to steal Angelica’s identity, she struck her with a whip!” Grandmother’s face clouded over instantly. She marched towards me, her cane thumping against the floor, completely unafraid of the gun I had pointed at her. She knew I wouldn’t dare shoot. In my moment of hesitation, a searing pain shot up my arm. Her cane came crashing down on my wrist, and the pistol clattered to the floor. She kicked it away and glared down at me, her face a mask of fury. “Scarlett, you wretched girl, how dare you? Get on your knees and apologize to Angelica right now!” Looking at the woman who, in both lifetimes, had always sided with Angelica, my heart ached with a bitter sorrow. In my past life, I never understood her blatant favoritism. It wasn’t until I was dying that I learned the truth: Angelica was her real granddaughter. My father had no blood relation to her. He was the son of her husband’s first wife. When he took over the Syndicate, he had her own son—his rival—eliminated. It was only because of my grandfather’s dying wish that my father spared her life. But she had never forgiven him. His recent illness wasn’t an accident; it was her doing. Tears of bitter laughter streamed from my eyes. “Why should I apologize to her?” “I’ll say it again. I am the sole heir of the Volkov family and the future head of the Syndicate. What gives her the right to demand an apology from me?!” Seeing the color drain from Angelica’s face, Grandmother swung her cane again, this time cracking it against my already injured knee. “Angelica is my granddaughter! She is the rightful head of the Syndicate!” A wave of agony pulsed from my knee, and a cold sweat drenched my clothes, clinging to my skin. A furious inferno blazed in my eyes. “What right do you have to say that?” I screamed. “The Volkov family has nothing to do with an outsider like you!” She shot me a venomous look and ordered my brothers, “What are you waiting for? Cripple her and throw her out!” Staring at the undisguised disgust on her face, a wave of nausea washed over me. Years ago, she had begged my mother to bring these nine brothers home, swearing she would love and protect me for the rest of her life. My mother could never have imagined that her one act of compassion would lead to my brutal death in one life and leave me beaten and cornered in another. The irony was almost too much to bear. My gaze turned cold, as if I were looking at a stranger. “All of you outsiders, get out of my house. My father isn’t here, which means as the sole heir, my word is law!” My words finally pushed them over the edge. My nine brothers swarmed me, their fists and feet raining down blows. “A stand-in has no authority! Say another word and I’ll rip your tongue out!” Grandmother pressed her cane onto the back of my hand, grinding it into the floor. “Authority? Even your father has to listen to me! Who the hell do you think you are?” Tears streamed down my face, hot and furious. “This is my father’s house! I am his daughter, the only heir to the Syndicate! You aren’t even my real grandmother!” My head was slammed against the marble, the coppery taste of blood filling my mouth. Grandmother banged her cane on the floor for emphasis. “Did you all hear that? Angelica is my true granddaughter! With my son gravely ill, Angelica will be the next head of the Syndicate! As for Scarlett, she’s just some piece of trash we picked up from the slums!” Before her words could fully settle, a voice boomed from the doorway, radiating pure, unadulterated power. “Calling my daughter a piece of trash?”

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A killer hid a body under my bed. I lay right beside it, watching his every move. What he didn’t know was that there was another body in the suitcase next to the closet. 1 My name is Cassie, and I’m just a regular office worker. Last weekend, my husband and I were getting intimate, and his underwear fell under the bed. When I got back from my business trip, I crawled under to get it. Just as I was about to climb out, I heard a familiar voice from the other side of the apartment door. “What if your wife comes back early?” “She’s out of town. It’s just us.” The sound of a key turning in the lock sent me scrambling back into the darkness. The door clicked shut, followed by the shuffle of two pairs of feet in the entryway. “Let me change my shoes.” The sharp click-clack of heels on the hardwood floor stopped. “Don’t bother. You can just step on me in a minute. Come on, let’s go to the bedroom. It’ll be more exciting.” I propped myself up on my hands, carefully inching my way to the left side of the bed frame. From there, I had a perfect, panoramic view of the entire room. I watched my husband, Liam, and our beautiful upstairs neighbor, Diana, tear at each other’s clothes, their bodies colliding from the entryway, to the sofa, and finally crashing onto our bed. The mattress dipped and sprang back. Not wanting to disturb them, I reflexively switched my phone to silent. Just as I was about to text my husband to give him the scare of his life, he let out a blood-curdling shriek. At first, I thought it was a cry of pleasure, until Diana kicked him off the bed. A knife was buried in his chest. He lay on the floor, his body twisted at an unnatural angle. His eyes, wide and unseeing, stared directly at me. In that instant, my hand instinctively clenched the pair of underwear I was holding. Because they weren’t his. They belonged to last weekend’s “temporary husband”—a college kid I was seeing named Ethan. 2 My first instinct was to call 911, but there was a complication: the body in the suitcase next to the closet. If I called the cops, both Diana and I would be finished. As I hesitated, my husband’s corpse suddenly moved. It was being dragged across the floor in a grotesque slide. I craned my neck. Diana had tied a bedsheet around his head and was hauling him toward the bathroom. At the same time, I heard her on the phone with someone. “He’s heavy as hell. Get down here and help me.” She had an accomplice? This was premeditated. My eyes were glued to the front door, but to my surprise, the footsteps came from the balcony. It sounded like someone was walking on the exterior wall. I looked over and saw a thick rope dangling in the darkness, swaying just outside our balcony. A moment later, a figure wearing a mask, gloves, and shoe covers descended the rope and landed silently on the railing. The man pulled off his mask. Diana gave him a confirming glance before sliding the glass door open to let him in. Diana’s body blocked my view, but I caught a glimpse of a button-down shirt and jeans—he looked like some kind of tech guy. The moment he turned, I recognized him. It was Mark, one of Diana’s persistent admirers. I’d often seen him waiting downstairs with a bouquet of roses. Diana had never seemed to push him away, and she now accepted the gloves and shoe covers he handed her without a word. As I frantically tried to remember if my husband had made any enemies in his recent business dealings, Mark spoke. “Are they both dead?” “Not yet. Just the one.” Their conversation sent a chill down my spine. Both? Just the one? Did they know I was here? My mind refused to go there. 3 Our apartment was well-stocked with tools: plastic tarps, kitchen knives, a handsaw, even bleach. They made quick work of dismembering my husband’s body. In that time, I had formed a plan. I was going to scare them away. I texted Ethan, telling him my husband had found the underwear he’d left under the bed last weekend. I said Liam was furious and had locked me in the bedroom. I needed him to create a diversion to draw him out. I repeatedly warned him not to call the police, or my career and his college life would be ruined. Ethan agreed immediately, even sending a sticker telling me not to be scared. I felt nothing. A man’s compassion for a woman is often the beginning of his own misfortune. Once they had cleaned the scene, I watched them search for something to hold the body parts. Of course, their eyes landed on the suitcase. My back was soaked with sweat. I prayed for Ethan to hurry. If they found the body inside that suitcase, I’d be trading my freedom for a pair of silver bracelets. Diana’s hand was the first to touch the suitcase, but it was locked. She started frantically trying combinations. Just then, the apartment plunged into darkness. A rapid, urgent knocking echoed from the front door. 4 “What do we do? Did his wife come home early?” In the pitch black, I could see Diana stomping her foot in panic. I let out a long, silent breath of relief. It was clear they had no idea I was hiding under the bed. “Quick! Hide the pieces in the suitcase!” Mark hissed. “I tried! It’s locked, I can’t get it open!” “Then hide them under the bed!” Before I could react, black plastic bags filled with my husband’s remains were being shoved into the space around me. A wave of nausea rose in my throat, and I clamped a hand over my mouth to keep from vomiting. “Calm down,” Mark whispered to Diana. “It’s probably not his wife. If it were, she’d just use her key.” The next second, the distinct sound of a key sliding into the lock cut through the silence. I froze. I had told Ethan to flip the breaker, knock, and then run! Why did he come back? And how the hell did he get a key to my apartment? Did he secretly make a copy? In the split second before the door swung open, I heard the soft click of a closet door shutting. 5 The front door opened and closed. Silence descended, broken only by the sound of someone taking off their shoes in the entryway. Cramped under the bed, I heard the faint scuff of feet on the floor. Peeking past the plastic bags, I saw a pair of large feet—a man’s feet. He moved quietly, and I watched as he disappeared into the bathroom. The minutes ticked by. As uncomfortable as I was, pressed against pieces of a corpse, I knew the two people in the closet were having a worse time. In the dark, a bright phone screen is a beacon. I glanced toward the closet and saw a faint glow seeping from the crack, a sign they were messaging each other, planning their next move. The only sound was the rhythmic ticking of the wall clock. Suddenly, another sharp knock rattled the door. “Delivery for 802!” I was baffled. I was under the bed, my husband was dead beside me—who ordered takeout? Was it the wrong address? Just when I thought no one would dare answer, the toilet in the bathroom flushed. The door opened, and from my vantage point, I saw the man who had entered in the dark emerge. He walked calmly to the door and flipped the light switch, but the crystal chandelier overhead remained dark. He opened the door. The delivery guy’s apologetic voice drifted in. “Sorry, my bad. Customer just messaged me, said he put in the wrong address. This is for 1802.” I looked toward the closet. The faint light had vanished. 1802? That apartment has been vacant for months. Was this a deliberate ploy by the people in the closet? “Okay. No problem.” Hearing the man’s voice, my blood ran cold. Every hair on my body stood on end. The voice… it was identical to my dead husband’s. Did they kill the wrong person? 6 After the delivery guy left, the man followed him out, and the door clicked shut again. I heard movement from the closet as two figures emerged. Mark stood to the left of the door, holding a knife. Diana stood to the right, gripping a golf club. They were ready to ambush the man with my husband’s voice the second he returned. Suddenly, the lights flickered back on. After the initial blinding glare, all three of us blinked, adjusting to the brightness. With the lights on, I finally felt safe enough to check my phone. Several messages from Ethan were waiting. “Cassie, I just saw your husband take the elevator down to the lobby to flip the breaker.” My husband? My husband was lying in pieces next to me. And Ethan had never even met Liam. “Are you sure you saw him correctly?” I texted back. He sent a photo. “Cassie, your wedding photo is right by the bed. I stared at it for ages last weekend. There’s no way I’d get it wrong.” I opened the picture. My hand trembled so violently I could barely hold the phone. The photo was taken from the first-floor stairwell. The man waiting for the elevator… his build and his profile were a perfect match for my husband. 7 Utterly bewildered, I opened my chat with Liam and sent a message. “Where are you right now?” From the floor not far from the bed, a phone began to vibrate. For a dozen silent, agonizing seconds, the expressions on my face and on the faces of the pair by the door were frozen in shock. “His phone is ringing,” Diana whispered. “He’s not here yet. Go get it and silence it, quickly!” Diana snatched up the phone. The moment she lit up the screen, both of us saw the reply pop up. “I’m at home!” I felt a primal terror grip me. Diana was so frightened she dropped the phone. “He… he’s not dead!” Mark cursed. “What are you talking about? His body is in pieces under the bed!” Diana picked up the phone and handed it to Mark. He swiped through it. “Windows login notification. Someone’s messing with us, replying from his computer.” I took a deep breath and typed again. “Good, you’re home. Two of my male colleagues are coming over in a bit. Can you give them the suitcase next to the closet?” “Sure thing, honey! Okie dokie!” My heart sank. I knew, with absolute certainty, that the person on the other end was not my husband. Liam never used punctuation, let alone cutesy phrases like “Okie dokie.” A wild theory formed in my mind. Was this his assistant? It had happened before. When Liam was with another woman, he’d often let his assistant manage his messages. But even his assistant wouldn’t dare reply like this without permission. 8 Diana was visibly panicked. “What now? There are two guys coming, plus the one who just left. We can’t handle all of them.” Mark hesitated. “Let’s hide for now.” Diana ducked back into the closet. Mark had one foot inside when he stopped. “You hide here. The rope is still outside the balcony. I’ll go hide it and find another spot.” Just then, footsteps sounded in the hallway. In a flash, Mark darted to the balcony, vaulted over the railing, and grabbed the rope, planting his feet firmly on the air conditioning unit outside. Eight floors up. The thought alone was terrifying. I clenched my fists, holding my breath for him. The footsteps grew closer, accompanied by a soft humming. I recognized the song instantly: “Supposed to be a love song.” The last time he and I were together, he’d played it to cover the sound of my moans. How could there be so many coincidences? The questions in my mind deepened. I was about to see his face. I bit my lip, forcing myself to stay silent. My heart stopped. The man who walked through the door… was my husband. He was wearing the same suit he’d worn on his business trip last Friday, right down to the tie I had picked out for him. He walked in and went straight to the fridge for a glass of lemonade, just like he always did. It suddenly hit me what was wrong with the first man who’d come home. He was wearing a purple polo shirt, a color my husband absolutely despised. But… the two of them looked so uncannily alike. I stared at the plastic bags beside me and pinched my own cheek, hard. I felt the pain. Could it be that the man who just walked in was my real husband?

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