Category: English

My dad’s secret son, hidden for eight years, was finally discovered by my mom. My mom swore she would cut all ties with him, even if it meant walking away from the marriage with absolutely nothing. This time, I stopped her. Because I was reborn. My dad was diagnosed with a terminal illness and was dying. As long as we outlived him, every single cent to his name would belong to me and my mom. 1 “Riley, if Mommy and Daddy split up, do you want to come with Mommy?” When my mom asked me this question again, I didn’t hesitate for a single second. I looked her dead in the eye and said, “Mom, don’t get a divorce.” Her eyes grew red with unshed tears. “Did you know your father has a child out there who is only six months younger than you? How am I supposed to swallow this? If we divorce, at least I won’t have to look at him and feel sick. Come with me, okay? You’re all I have left.” “No, Mom!” “Why?” she asked, her voice trembling. Because I lived this life once already. In my past life, when they divorced, my mom fought desperately for my custody. To get me, she agreed to walk away with nothing. The houses, the cash, the company they built from the ground up—all of it fell into the hands of that mistress and her son. Just two months after the divorce was finalized, my dad died of late-stage stomach cancer. The only reason he let my mom find out about the mistress was because he knew he was dying. He wanted to pave the way for his illegitimate son, but he couldn’t bear the thought of my mom taking half his wealth in a standard divorce. So he held my custody hostage. My mom, wanting to protect me, sacrificed the empire she spent years building. The day after the divorce papers were signed, he married the mistress. When he died, that woman and her son legally inherited everything. And then, they hunted my mom and me down. Whatever business my mom tried to start, whatever job she got, they ruined it. Even when she tried to sell trinkets on the street, they hired local thugs to trash her stall. To keep me fed, my mom was forced to work at seedy nightclubs, eventually spiraling into the darkest corners of the sex trade. The mistress tormented her for ten years. Finally, on my eighteenth birthday, my mom jumped from the roof of a 21-story building. After she died, the mistress still wouldn’t let me go. She paid kids at my high school to violently bully me. She twisted the truth, telling everyone I was the illegitimate child and that my mother was the homewrecker who ruined her life. I was an orphan with nowhere to turn. One blurry, disorienting night, I was struck and killed by a speeding semi-truck. And the capital that mistress used to destroy us? It was the exact wealth she inherited from my father. In this lifetime, I will protect my mother. I will never let that cheating scumbag win. 2 “Mom, do you believe in prophetic dreams?” I recounted every single horrific event from my past life to her, detail by detail. She muttered to herself in shock, “I would never degrade myself to do that kind of work… and I would never abandon you by taking my own life.” I knew that. But when you are pushed to the absolute brink of starvation and despair, who can guarantee they won’t grab the only lifeline available, even if it’s covered in filth? Because of my dad’s betrayal, my mom had been heartbroken and stopped managing their company. My dad was using this exact window of time to pretend he wanted her back, making her think he still loved her. Meanwhile, behind her back, he was rapidly consolidating power, aiming to take full control of the corporation. My mom was skeptical of my “dream,” but her love for me ran deep in her bones. Even if it was just a nightmare, she was going to verify it. She went back to the office. That night, when she and my dad came home together, his jaw was clenched. He looked furious. I trotted up to him. “Dad, are you a dirty trash bag?” He choked, his chest heaving as he gasped for air in pure outrage. “People on the internet say men who cheat are just dirty trash bags, and nobody should want them.” My mom immediately slapped a hand over my mouth. “Stay off the internet. Don’t repeat that garbage you read.” I nodded innocently. She let go, and I asked, “Are you and Dad still getting a divorce?” My mom smiled sweetly. “Of course not. I’ve already forgiven your dad. We’re going to live happily as a family of three.” My dad’s face turned a spectacular shade of purple. He scolded me for a few minutes, skipped dinner, and slammed his bedroom door. My mom’s phone buzzed. She was in the shower, so I expertly unlocked her screen. It was the mistress, Vanessa. She was actively trying to provoke my mom, sending a barrage of intimate, disgusting photos of her and my dad in bed. Her texts mocked my mom, goading her to sign the divorce papers immediately. She called my mom a sterile, frigid prude, bragging that my dad preferred her because she was much better in bed. She claimed that she was my dad’s true love, and if my maternal grandfather hadn’t pressured my dad into marriage, she and my dad would have been the legitimate family all along. I typed a reply for my mom: “I don’t believe you. Did you Photoshop these? I remember Richard has a massive mole on his left butt cheek. Your photos don’t show it.” Vanessa took the bait and immediately sent a highly explicit video. To prove her point and traumatize my mom, she filmed it in high-definition, 360 degrees. The mole on my dad’s left cheek was glaringly obvious. It made me want to throw up. Suppressing my nausea, I downloaded the uncensored video and sent it to my own device. After dinner, I opened my laptop and imported the media. I slapped massive, thick mosaic blurs over their private parts and posted it directly to my Facebook and Instagram stories. My caption: “This lady says she’s way better in bed than my mom, and now Dad wants to divorce us! What do I do? Riley doesn’t want to grow up without a dad! (Loud Crying Emoji)” I was only nine years old. Posting this kind of stuff wouldn’t land me in juvenile detention, right? 3 My dad was trying to play the loving, remorseful husband to my mom, while Vanessa was trying to trigger her into a hasty divorce. They thought they were so incredibly smart. I knew my dad would be angry, but I underestimated his absolute, explosive rage. He slapped me across the face so hard I flew backward. Two of my baby teeth were knocked straight out of my mouth. Good god, it hurt. But compared to the agonizing pain of a semi-truck crushing my bones, this slap was just a light drizzle. My mom screamed and tackled him, clawing wildly at his face. She left deep, bleeding scratch marks all over his cheeks. He looked like a monster. He screamed at me to delete the post. I obediently did. But deleting it was useless. It had been up all night. Who knows how many people screen-recorded it? My mom had dozens of wealthy, gossipy housewives on her friends list. I was confident their ability to spread drama wouldn’t disappoint my dad. My dad roared at my mom, “Look at the psychotic daughter you raised!” He slammed the door and left. My mouth was full of blood. My mom was sobbing, trying to drag me to the emergency room. I refused. “Mom, when you’re in danger, you call 911.” She was heartbroken over my injuries but couldn’t stop me as I dragged her directly to the local police precinct. Spitting a mouthful of bloody saliva into a tissue, I walked into the station and finally let out a loud, gut-wrenching wail. With blood staining my lips, I shakily reached out my small hand to a pretty female police officer. In my palm sat the two teeth I had clutched the entire way there. “Officer… Riley wants to report a crime…” My dad had coasted through life on easy mode for years. This was his first time ever sitting in a police interrogation room. And it was for domestic battery against his nine-year-old daughter. He was a prominent, wealthy CEO. He had never experienced this kind of profound humiliation. His face cycled through a rainbow of colors as he sat there with his scratched-up cheeks. My face was swollen to the size of a balloon. The officer explained that my injuries constituted assault. If my mom and I pressed charges, my dad would be facing at least five days in jail, plus fines. Getting him locked up was exactly what I wanted. It bought my mom five crucial days to secure her assets. My dad tried to defend himself by bringing up the explicit video I posted. I immediately pulled out my kid-friendly iPad, opened the blurred video of him and Vanessa, turned the brightness all the way up, and showed it to the entire precinct. “This is the video my dad is talking about. The lady said my dad likes her because she’s good in bed, and she said she gave him a son so my mom needs to divorce him quickly. “Even though my dad is a cheating scumbag, Riley doesn’t want my parents to divorce. “Riley doesn’t want to lose her dad. Riley just wanted the aunties on Facebook to give her advice…” Hitting the emotional climax of my performance, my tears flowed like a broken dam, washing over my swollen, bruised cheeks. If there were a crack in the floor, I’m sure my dad would have shoved his head into it. After a highly uncomfortable silence, the officers gently explained that posting such explicit content online violated platform guidelines. However, since I was a child who didn’t know better and had already deleted it, they let me off with a gentle verbal warning. But now, the entire precinct knew about his disgusting infidelity. The officers looked at him with undisguised contempt. Because my mom and I adamantly refused to drop the charges, and the physical evidence was right there on my face, my dad was hauled off to spend five days singing the blues in a holding cell. 4 Trading two baby teeth for five days of uninterrupted time for my mom was the best deal I ever made. Now wasn’t the time to coddle me. After seeing the dentist, I pushed my mom to go straight to the corporate headquarters. I warned her that several key managerial positions were occupied by Vanessa’s relatives. My mom didn’t waste a second. She hired two towering, intimidating female bodyguards to watch over me, then rushed to the office to clean house. My dad was the classic definition of a gold-digger. He grew up in absolute poverty, raised by a widowed mother who worked herself to the bone to put him through college. My mom’s family wasn’t exceptionally wealthy, but my grandfather was a respected academic who owned a nice house in the city. After my parents graduated and got married, my grandfather sold that house to give them their startup capital. Using that seed money, they grew a tiny two-person operation into a massive tech manufacturing firm worth nearly a hundred million dollars today. My mom was brilliant. She handled the complex operational side of the business flawlessly. But her fatal flaw was her bleeding heart. In my past life, my dad manipulated her empathy, guilt-tripping her into walking away with nothing. She genuinely believed she could just start over from scratch. But the world is cruel. Dragging me along as a single mother, while Vanessa used my dad’s wealth to actively hunt and destroy her… Forget starting a business. We barely had enough to eat. Children are almost always a mother’s greatest weakness. If it weren’t for wanting to secure my custody, my mom never would have surrendered her life’s work. I refused to let history repeat itself. This time, I was the one protecting her! 5 Those five days in a cell must have made my dad hate us to his core. When he was released, he didn’t even bother coming home. He moved straight into the luxury mansion he had bought for Vanessa and his son. Because of the video I posted, he was the laughingstock of his own company. My mom said that on his first day back in the office, he looked like a zoo animal. Employees stared at him, whispering in the hallways. Some of the older, no-nonsense female managers even rolled their eyes and muttered curses as he walked past. Having just gotten out of jail only to face this humiliation, he exploded in a rage, threatening to fire everyone. Naturally, my mom stepped in and vetoed his orders. Discovering that my mom had already fired all of Vanessa’s relatives, my dad had a screaming match with her in the boardroom. The mask was completely off. He knew playing the “remorseful husband” wasn’t going to trick her into leaving empty-handed anymore. He offered a standard 50/50 split of the assets if she agreed to an uncontested divorce. But my mom had already spoken to his private doctor. She knew about his cancer. She knew that even if he underwent surgery, he didn’t have much time left. She absolutely refused to divorce him. These facts validated everything I told her in my “dream.” She would never trust him again. My dad knew his clock was ticking. He couldn’t afford to drag this out for years. But since my mom refused to sign, he had to file a contested divorce lawsuit. In court, my mom held my hand and wept beautifully to the judge. “Your Honor, even though he made a mistake, my daughter and I are willing to forgive him. We’ve built a life together. I won’t abandon our marriage just because he strayed once. “They say you should always try to save a family. I beg the court to dismiss his petition.” I cried on cue. “Daddy, please don’t leave Riley!” My dad looked like he wanted to vomit. He couldn’t produce any evidence of irreconcilable differences, and his affair with Vanessa only proved he was a cheating scumbag, not that my mom was at fault. And yet, my mom and I were publicly declaring our willingness to forgive him. My mom showcased her saint-like capacity for forgiveness, begging him to return to our loving home. After months of legal delays, his first divorce petition was dismissed by the judge. If he wanted to file again, he had to wait a mandatory six months. Unfortunately for him, he didn’t have six months to spare. 6 My mom told me my dad was secretly siphoning funds out of the company accounts. He was preparing a nest egg for Vanessa and his son. He was terrified that if he died while still married to my mom, Vanessa would get nothing. He even secretly drafted a will, attempting to leave his half of the corporate shares to his illegitimate son. I asked my mom anxiously, “Why aren’t you stopping him?” She told me not to worry. She said she was tracking every penny and building a legal case, and she absolutely wouldn’t let strangers steal what belonged to us. I had told my mom every horrifying detail of our past lives. She wasn’t blinded by love anymore. I trusted her competence implicitly. My mom and I suffered far too much in the past. I wasn’t being heartless; I just refused to give a single cent to that homewrecking duo. My dad’s actions were truly despicable. He refused to come home, so I had to go to his and Vanessa’s love nest to find him. I knew exactly where they lived. He had set them up in one of the most exclusive, gated communities in the city. I had been there in my past life too. But back then, I went to beg. I had kneeled on the concrete driveway outside their mansion, pleading with Vanessa to show mercy and let my mom live. Instead, she kicked me to the ground. She ground the stiletto heel of her designer shoe into my cheek, smiling radiantly. “This is karma,” she said. “Your mother was a shameless bitch who got in the way of our true love.” The heel dug into my flesh until I bled. The neighbors who gathered to watch spat on me, calling me a bastard child. She promised that if I knelt and bowed my head, she’d let my mom go. I actually did it. But she just laughed louder, clutching her son’s shoulder as she shook with amusement. That plain, unremarkable face of hers made me want to violently throw up. But today, I was here to collect some interest on that debt. 7 Flanked by my towering female bodyguards, I held up a photo of my dad and Vanessa, asking every neighbor I saw until I found their house. The front gates were wide open. The woman who had strutted triumphantly over my bleeding face in my past life was currently watering the rosebushes in the front yard with her son. A picture of perfect, suburban peace. “Auntie Vanessa.” Vanessa froze the second she saw me. When she noticed the crowd of wealthy, gossip-hungry housewives gathering behind me, sheer panic washed over her face. “Tsk, tsk. I always wondered why her ‘husband’ was never home. She told me he was a busy CEO always flying first class. Turns out she’s just a dirty mistress. How shameless!” “She acts so sweet and polite in the neighborhood. Who knew she was such garbage behind closed doors?” “You really can’t judge a book by its cover. I’m telling my kids to stay far away from her son.” The whispers snapped Vanessa out of her shock. She pretended she didn’t know me, insisting I had the wrong house. She was trying to gaslight me in broad daylight. But I had already shown the photos to everyone. No one believed her. As the neighbors’ comments grew more hostile, she lost her temper and yelled at us to get off her property. I aggressively wiped at my eyes, turning on the waterworks. “Auntie Vanessa, please don’t make my daddy divorce my mommy! “If you just leave him alone, I’ll give you all my money! Don’t you just like my dad for his money? I have a lot of allowance saved up!” I dramatically slammed the porcelain piggy bank I brought with me onto the driveway. It shattered, sending quarters and dollar bills scattering across the pavement. I dropped to my knees, frantically scooping them up and shoving them toward her. The crowd’s disgust toward her reached a boiling point. Her son, Tyler, charged at me, raising his fists. I immediately grabbed his ear and twisted it hard. He shrieked in pain. Vanessa tried to rush me, but my bodyguards easily pinned her arms behind her back. I cried while cursing, and while cursing, I kicked, scratched, and pinched. Like a feral animal, I unleashed every ounce of my pent-up rage directly onto Tyler. “If it wasn’t for you, my dad wouldn’t abandon me! You stole my dad! It’s your fault! It’s all your fault!” Girls hit their growth spurts earlier. Tyler was half a head shorter than me and stood absolutely no chance. I beat him until he was wailing on the ground. He wasn’t my brother. He was a demon. He and his vile mother stole everything from us and then sadistically tortured us for fun. In my past life, as he grew older, he paid kids at my high school to spread rumors that my mom was a deranged stalker who ruined his parents’ lives. He orchestrated having me locked in bathroom stalls, my textbooks shredded, and my assignments destroyed. He even had thugs throw garbage water on me while I walked home. He was rotten to his very core. I wasn’t going to let him off the hook just because he was a “kid.” 8 By the time my dad rushed home, Tyler’s face was bruised and battered. Vanessa clutched her son, weeping beautifully. My dad raised his hand, furious, intending to strike me. My bodyguards immediately stepped in front of me, glaring at him, fists clenched, ready to drop him if he moved an inch. I poked my head between their shoulders and craned my neck toward him. “If you want to go back to a jail cell, hit me! Do it! Kill me right now!” “You knocked out two of my teeth last time! Are you trying to do it again?!” “I’m just trying to protect my family! What did I do wrong?! You have no shame, cheating on my mom! I have the worst luck in the world having a father like you!” There were too many people watching. We were surrounded. They chattered endlessly, condemning Vanessa and my dad’s disgusting behavior. The very people they had tried to impress in this neighborhood were now publicly shaming them. My words struck my dad’s fragile ego so hard he clutched his chest, swaying dizzily. Finally, his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed face-first into the rosebushes. I didn’t expect him to be this fragile. He literally passed out from anger. I immediately cried and screamed, dialing 911. When the ambulance arrived, Vanessa tried to climb in with her bruised son. I forcefully shoved her out the back doors. My dad’s extreme surge of anger triggered a cascade of severe medical complications. He was admitted to the hospital immediately. His cancer had spread aggressively. The doctor said that if he didn’t have surgery immediately, he wouldn’t even survive the month. If he opted for the surgery, there was a 30% survival rate. And even if it was successful, it would only buy him six months to a year. When my dad woke up, the first thing he saw was me. He opened his mouth to curse me, but my mom instantly slapped him hard across the face. “Since you’re already bedridden, shut your mouth and behave!” My dad’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull in rage, but he was so weak he couldn’t even walk without gasping for air. How could he fight my mom? I pinned his shoulders to the mattress, relayed the doctor’s exact words, and asked him what he wanted to do. I have no idea if he got the surgery in my past life, but he died shortly after regardless. His face turned an ashen, deathly gray. He was clearly terrified. But what did that have to do with me and my mom? Whatever he chose, he wasn’t escaping the grim reaper. 9 He ultimately chose the surgery. I wasn’t surprised. A coward like him would cling to even a 1% chance of survival. His mother had passed away long ago, leaving me and my mom as his only legal next of kin. My mom signed the surgical consent forms. Before the operation, he demanded to see Vanessa and Tyler one last time. My mom adamantly refused. He demanded his phone to call them, but my mom had confiscated it. He cursed and screamed, throwing everything he could reach off his bedside table. I grabbed my mom’s hand. “If he wants them here so badly, let them come.” My mom didn’t understand. She just found the sight of them nauseating. But seeing my insistence, she agreed. Vanessa brought Tyler to the hospital, throwing herself onto his chest and weeping loudly. Just as she was mid-sob, the attending doctor led a group of nurses in for morning rounds. I proactively introduced Vanessa’s identity to the entire medical staff. Under the judgmental stares of a dozen professionals, Vanessa’s pale, delicate “innocent” face flushed bright red with extreme embarrassment. Especially since the illegitimate son standing next to her looked almost my exact age. My dad’s face was equally horrifying to look at. The reputation and dignity he had spent a lifetime building were completely annihilated. I looked at the doctors with teary, red eyes. “Even though my dad did terrible, unforgivable things, Riley doesn’t want him to die. Please, doctors, you have to save him.” My dad looked like he wanted to die on the spot. But this was only the beginning. My mom contacted several senior executives and board members from the company to “visit” him. As soon as the doctors left, the executives filed in. Vanessa grabbed Tyler, desperate to flee, but my bodyguards blocked the door. “Since Dad wanted you here so badly, you’re going to stay and let everyone get a good look at you.” After the corporate team left, it was his old classmates. Elementary school, middle school, high school, college. Anyone my mom could dig up from his past, she invited. Wave after wave of visitors poured in. And every single time, my mom politely and thoroughly introduced Vanessa and her son to the room. My dad was stripped of his dignity down to his very bones. Social death in its purest form. Vanessa fared no better, and her son Tyler shrank into the corner, hiding his face in shame. My mom calmly unscrewed her thermos and took a sip of tea. “We have a few distant relatives back in our hometown. If you’d like, I can have Vanessa bring the boy to meet them tomorrow too.” My dad weakly croaked for Vanessa and Tyler to get the hell out.

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My sister-in-law is a strict vegan. She insisted on raising her baby exclusively on a plant-based diet. She even planned to replace my nephew’s baby formula with soy milk. As a pediatrician, I strongly advised her to ensure a balanced diet with both meat and vegetables, advocating for science-based parenting. In the end, my nephew grew up healthy and strong. But whenever he faced any difficulties in life, my sister-in-law would tell him: “You were supposed to be a pure vegan baby from the womb, blessed with good karma. It was your aunt who ruined your vegan blessings.” Because of this, he resented me for years, and one night while I was fast asleep, he smothered me to death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day my sister-in-law asked for my advice. This time, I smiled and said: “You’re the mom, you have the final say.” 1 I was reborn on the day of my nephew’s one-month celebration. My sister-in-law, Chloe, was holding the baby, bragging to a table full of relatives about her “pure vegan from the womb” baby. She proudly declared that she had stuck to a strict vegan diet for two years. Even during her pregnancy, she hadn’t touched a single egg or drop of dairy. She proclaimed that the baby would also be raised exclusively vegan—no formula, only soy milk. The relatives thought it was absurd. They chimed in, urging her that growing children need proper nutrition and asking how he could possibly survive without formula. What if it affected his development? Chloe brushed them off, unimpressed. “You guys just don’t get it. Babies who are vegan from the womb are blessed. They’re bound to be much smarter than ordinary kids!” “Isn’t that right, Aria? You’re a doctor. Why don’t you tell them? Isn’t a vegan diet better?” As she spoke, she turned her gaze toward me. I drifted off for a second, then the memories came flooding back. In my past life, she had asked me the exact same question in front of everyone. Back then, driven by professional integrity, I told her the truth. In the pediatric ward, I had treated countless children suffering from malnutrition. I had seen those “pure vegan from the womb” babies that were so trendy in extreme vegan circles. Most of them were shorter, more lethargic, and had weaker immune systems than their peers. Children need a variety of trace elements for growth, many of which simply cannot be provided by a pure vegan diet. A balanced diet of meat and vegetables is essential, and parenting must be grounded in science. Chloe’s face fell, and she stayed silent. Eventually, persuaded by the elders, my brother finally decided against forcing the child to be vegan from birth. My little nephew grew up safe and healthy. But what I didn’t expect was that from then on, every hardship he faced in life would be blamed on me by his mother. If he hit a roadblock in his studies or had a fight with a classmate… Chloe would tell him, “You were supposed to be a pure vegan baby from the womb, blessed with heavenly karma to succeed in everything. But your aunt ruined your blessings.” This led to him resenting me from a very young age. Finally, during one of my visits home, he slipped sleeping pills into my milk and smothered me with a pillow in my room. The security camera in the living room caught a glimpse of it. When Chloe discovered it, her first action was to have my brother delete the footage. Then, they told everyone I died of a sudden heart attack. My mother cried until she lost her voice at my funeral, but after all the guests had left… She held my portrait and whispered, “Aria, I’m sorry. Mom has already lost a daughter; I can’t lose my grandson too.” She knew everything, but she chose silence. These were the family members I had treated with genuine love. Thinking back to this, I looked at Chloe’s eager eyes and offered a mild smile. “There’s no parent who doesn’t want the best for their child. How to raise him is, of course, up to the mother.” She was extremely satisfied with my answer. “See? Even the doctor agrees! What more is there to question!” Yes, this time, I wanted to see just how much “good karma” your pure vegan baby could muster. 2 After the banquet, my mom pulled me aside on the sofa. “Aria, you know we live out of state and it’s not convenient. We’re counting on you for the baby’s formula and things like that from now on.” In my past life, whenever it was time for formula or baby food, they made me buy it. Their excuse was, “Since you’re the one advocating for science-based parenting, naturally, you should be responsible for it.” During that time, my money flowed out like water. When I tried to settle the expenses with my brother and sister-in-law, my mom would intervene, “We’re all family, why are you keeping such strict accounts?” So, more than half of the expenses of raising their child were siphoned from me. But this time, I wasn’t going to be their cash cow. “Mom, Chloe said she’s doing a pure vegan diet. Which formula on the market is vegan?” Her smile froze. She glanced at Chloe, too afraid to offend her daughter-in-law. “Then… what should we do?” What should you do? Feed him soy milk, of course. I took her hand and smiled warmly, trying to comfort her. “Oh, come on, Chloe knows how to raise her child. You just relax and stop worrying.” She looked embarrassed and had to let it go. Then, she watched helplessly as Chloe ordered a massive sack of soybeans online and commanded her to make soy milk every single day. 3 Two months later, in the dead of night, I received a phone call from my hometown. It was my brother, Mark. “Aria, Noah has a high fever that won’t break! Hurry back and take him to the hospital!” Noah was my nephew’s name. It was the same in my past life. Whenever he had a slight headache or fever, my brother and sister-in-law’s first instinct was to call me. They wouldn’t even go to the hospital themselves; they just dumped the responsibility entirely. And I, brainwashed by my mother’s “we’re all family” rhetoric, would take charge of everything. But now, looking at the fact that my shift was over, I leisurely took off my white coat and stretched. “I can’t, Mark. I’m on call and have patients to see. I can’t leave!” The voice on the other end grew frantic: “What patients? Do you not understand prioritization? Who could be more important than your own nephew?” I smiled faintly. “Mark, don’t worry. Didn’t Chloe say that vegan babies are blessed and have stronger immune systems than normal babies? I figured he wouldn’t get sick, so I didn’t make any preparations.” Mark was furious and started yelling at me. Then, he turned his anger on Chloe: “Didn’t you say a vegan diet makes him healthier? Why is he sick?!” Chloe refused to back down: “It’s just a minor illness. It’s no big deal if we don’t go to the hospital. This child has good karma; he’ll be fine.” An argument erupted on the other end of the line. The sound of things breaking and doors slamming echoed back and forth. By the time they finished their commotion and took the baby to the clinic, his temperature had spiked to 106 degrees. 4 However, no one died. Small clinics are best at routine fever reduction. A few bottles of antibiotics, and the effect is immediate. In contrast, major hospitals have strict regulations on IV fluids and prohibit the abuse of antibiotics, so fever reduction isn’t as fast. In my past life, I was even subjected to Chloe’s passive-aggressive remarks because of this. “Big hospitals just know how to make money. A simple IV could solve it, but they always want to admit you!” But she didn’t know that the dependency caused by long-term antibiotic use is a disaster for a child’s immune system. This time, I wouldn’t interfere. Let him get as many IVs as she wished. A child’s destiny is inherently proportional to their parents’ understanding. There is absolutely no need to force a change. 5 The day after the IV, Noah’s temperature returned to normal. Chloe was thrilled, increasingly convinced this was the result of his vegan diet. She immediately posted an update on social media. [Other babies take ten days in the hospital for a cold and still aren’t better. My vegan baby’s fever broke in one night!] She declared that not only would she stick to the vegan diet even more resolutely, but she would also promote the benefits of being vegan from the womb to more pregnant friends. And in the comments section, her circle of friends were all uniformly saying: [Rejoice and praise, boundless merit.] I swiped past casually and calmly turned off the screen. Let her continue wasting her time like this. 6 Time flew by. When I saw Noah again, he was already seven years old. He looked vastly different from my impression of him in my past life. His complexion was sallow, his hair dull and dry, and he was a full two or three inches shorter than kids his age. He stood blankly in the corner, unwilling to communicate with anyone. But Chloe remained as proud as ever. Over these years, under her strict training, no one in the family dared let Noah have a single bite of meat. Even on his birthday, when my mom added a tiny bit of lard to his longevity noodles, Chloe scolded her mercilessly. She was very proud of this, bragging to everyone she met: “Our Noah is just like me. He wants to throw up at the smell of meat.” I pursed my lips and stayed silent. Why do extreme vegans always take pride in being unable to stand the smell of meat? That’s a sign of liver damage. 7 After dinner, my mom held my hand, her eyes eager. “Aria, this is your only nephew. You can’t ignore his elementary school enrollment.” They wanted me to pull some strings to get Noah into the prestigious private Oakridge Elementary. In my past life, with my tutoring, he successfully got into that school. Because it was close to my workplace, he lived with me after starting school. I was responsible for his food, clothing, and daily expenses. I took care of him for nine whole years, until he got into a top high school and secured a guaranteed admission to a prestigious university. And on the day the family threw a celebratory banquet for him, he murdered me with his own hands. Before I died, I heard him say: “If it weren’t for you meddling and taking me away from my parents, I wouldn’t have suffered so much for so many years. “If I had just followed my mom’s vegan diet from a young age, studying wouldn’t have been so hard!” It turned out that my pouring my heart out to provide him with educational resources his original family lacked was, in his eyes, “suffering.” All the money spent on him over those years didn’t earn a single word of gratitude, only accumulated endless resentment. In nine years, I had successfully raised an ungrateful monster. Thinking of this, I spoke calmly: “Mom, it’s just an entrance exam. “With the intelligence of a baby who’s been vegan from the womb, he’ll definitely ace it. Right, Chloe?” As I spoke, I looked at Chloe. She raised her eyebrows proudly: “Of course. An exam like this is a piece of cake for my son.” I smiled. I also wanted to know what score he would get in this life. 8 On the day the exam results were announced, Chloe scrolled on her phone for ages but couldn’t find her son’s name. It wasn’t until she scrolled to the very end of the dense Excel spreadsheet that she finally saw the name “Noah Thorne.” Reading: 52, Math: 34, English: 41. The maximum score was 100. She exclaimed it was impossible. “The school must have made a mistake. How could my son score so low?” 她 paced around the living room, muttering to herself for a long time. I almost wanted to laugh. The multiple elements needed for a child’s brain development cannot be provided by a pure vegan diet. For example, DHA, which affects intelligence, can only be obtained from fish. Being a vegan since childhood, it would be a miracle if his IQ were normal. But Chloe clearly lacked this knowledge base. After muttering for a long time, she turned to me again: “Aria, go talk to the school leadership. Ask them to check if there was a mistake. Otherwise, someone must be cheating!” I was instantly speechless. So the over 300 students ahead of him were all cheating? My mom glanced at Chloe in dissatisfaction but didn’t dare say anything. She could only look to me for help: “Aria, you’re the most successful one in our family. You have to figure something out for your nephew.” Mark chimed in: “Yeah, why don’t you go buy a gift for the principal and ask for a favor? One more student won’t hurt.” If gifts could secure admission, wouldn’t the parents of the other 300-plus students be doing the same? If it’s so easy to use the back door, why doesn’t he do it himself? This brother of mine is always so unrealistic. 9 I sighed, looking troubled: “It’s not that I won’t help Noah. Chloe said vegan babies are the smartest and exams are no problem. I didn’t prepare anything. Now that admissions are closed, it’s too late to ask for favors.” Hearing this, Mark’s face darkened, and he pointed at Chloe, starting to complain: “Didn’t you say that as long as he ate vegan, exams wouldn’t be an issue? What happened now?” Chloe rolled her eyes, put her hands on her hips, and started scolding: “Why are you blaming me? It’s definitely the school’s problem. Don’t I know my own son? He’s always been the brightest. “If you ask me, these private schools just give tricky and weird questions to make things difficult for people. It’s better not to go!” The two started cursing and arguing again. I slowly stepped forward to mediate: “Chloe is right. True gold shines everywhere. As long as the child is smart, it doesn’t matter what school he goes to.” This farce ended with their argument. And Noah in this life would never have the chance to enter Oakridge Elementary. He could only stay locally and attend the most ordinary school. High-quality educational resources were forever out of his reach.

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My parents bought a condo near my college for me and my younger brother. Just because I brought my best friend over to crash for one night, my brother’s girlfriend threw a massive fit on the spot: “You’re already freeloading off your brother every day, and now you have the nerve to bring your friends here too? Do you have no shame?” I turned right around and threw her luggage out the front door: “Listen to me, little girl. From now on, if you ever step one foot inside this house again, I will make you regret it.” 1 My twin brother, Liam, and I got into the same university. It wasn’t far from home—just an hour away by train. The campus was right by the beach. My parents didn’t hesitate to buy a spacious three-bedroom condo nearby, making it convenient for Liam and me to live off-campus if we wanted. They figured whenever they missed us, they could drive down and stay for a bit too. Even though the dorms weren’t great, I was a total extrovert. I got along perfectly with my three roommates, so I chose to live on campus most of the time. I only occasionally went to the condo to spend the night. Today, after eating lunch in the dining hall, I suddenly got the urge to check on the condo. After all, the semester was more than half over, and I hadn’t been back once. The condo my parents bought was very close to campus—just a fifteen-minute walk. Standing in front of the door, I expertly punched in the passcode Liam and I had set together. To my surprise, after trying twice, the lock kept flashing “Incorrect Passcode.” Confused, I called Liam. When he answered, he sounded noticeably tense: “Haven’t you been living in the dorms the whole time? Why did you suddenly decide to go to the condo today?” My tone sharpened a bit: “What, am I not allowed to go to my own place? Why did you change the passcode on the smart lock?” “Chloe, don’t get mad. We’re waiting for the elevator right now, we’ll be right up. I’ll explain when I get there.” It wasn’t until Liam came rushing over that I understood who “we” was. Standing next to him was a girl with flawless, full-glam makeup. She was pretty enough, but her expression was totally blank. Even when she saw me, she kept a sour look on her face, as if my appearance was incredibly annoying to her. Liam hurried over, looking a bit embarrassed as he introduced her: “Chloe, this is Mia, my new girlfriend. She’s been living here with me recently.” Wow. My own brother got a girlfriend, and they even moved in together, and I, going to the exact same school, had absolutely no idea? “Mia, this is my sister, Chloe. We go to the same school.” Mia finally glanced at me, greeting me with a lukewarm: “Hey.” 2 It turned out the passcode had been changed—to Mia’s birthday. The reason? Mia complained that the passcode Liam and I originally set was too complicated and she couldn’t remember it. I was honestly speechless. Why on earth should the passcode to my house be changed just because she couldn’t remember it? But figuring this was our first time meeting, I didn’t show too much emotion. It wasn’t until I walked inside that I realized changing the passcode wasn’t even the craziest part. The craziest part was—my brother actually swapped my room with his. When my parents bought this three-bedroom place, my dad explicitly stated that the master bedroom with the en-suite bathroom was for me, since I was a girl and it would be more convenient. But now, what was supposed to be my room was piled high with a stranger’s clothes. I scanned the room, then walked into the en-suite bathroom. Seeing the state of it, I almost laughed out of pure anger. The expensive skincare products I had left here were all completely empty. You didn’t even have to guess to know who used them. Changed my passcode, took my bedroom, used my skincare. Wasn’t this girl crossing a line? Noticing my displeasure, Liam immediately switched to suck-up mode, sidling over: “Chloe, I’m so sorry. Mia and I have been staying in your room lately. But you’ve barely stayed here a few times this whole semester, and I thought it was a waste to leave such a big room empty.” Liam kept apologizing with a forced smile, while Mia sat in the living room eating fruit, acting as if no one else was there. She didn’t show the slightest intention of apologizing for taking over my room and using my things. Seeing this, I looked at Mia with a fake smile: “Could you please let me know when you finish someone else’s skincare products in the future? Otherwise, what am I supposed to use tonight?” Hearing this, Mia finally lifted her eyelids. Her tone was dripping with passive-aggression: “Sorry about that, Chloe. If you really care that much about those little sample sizes, I’ll just have Liam buy you new ones.” 3 I was absolutely mind-blown. When I vented to my three roommates about it, they all urged me to move back into the condo for a while. “Who lives in someone else’s house and changes the passcode to their own birthday?” “Taking your room, using your stuff… fine, she used it. But to be so unapologetic about it? That’s insane. She really thinks that condo belongs to her, doesn’t she?” “Chloe, if you don’t go back and live there for a bit, that girl is probably going to assume that place belongs to her and your brother, and that it has nothing to do with you.” After hearing that, I immediately packed my suitcase and moved to the off-campus condo that very night. It was only after I moved back that I discovered Liam had somehow picked up a part-time job. To be honest, the allowance our parents gave us wasn’t massive, but it was still a solid $1,500 a month each. That was plenty for me, a girl who needed to buy skincare and makeup. Liam didn’t smoke or drink, so why on earth did he need a part-time job to make money? I planned to ask Liam what was going on that night. At 11:30 PM, my brother finally got home, carrying a container of fresh strawberries. “Chloe, you’re not asleep yet?” He looked surprised, then smiled. “The strawberries at the convenience store where I work were on sale. I know you love them, so I brought some back for you.” I let out a soft hmph. Maybe it was because I had bossed him around since we were kids, but Liam had developed a really good temper and knew how to take care of people. I ate the strawberries he washed for me and asked: “Are you really that strapped for cash? Why are you working a part-time job?” “I have no choice,” Liam said, leaning tiredly against the sofa. “The new iPhone 15 just came out, right? Mia’s been begging me to upgrade her phone. She’s my girlfriend; of course, I want to give her what she wants.” “…” To that, I could only express my “respect” and wish him luck. I never expected that during class the next day, I would suddenly receive a text message from Mia: [Usually, older sisters spend money on their younger brothers, but not you. Strawberries are expensive, and you actually have the nerve to eat the ones your brother bought you? Liam works hard for his money. If you really cared about him, you wouldn’t let him buy things for you anymore. Thanks.] 4 I actually laughed out of anger. My own brother bought me some strawberries, and this not-even-engaged girlfriend thinks she has the right to dictate things? Knowing that Mia and I didn’t get along, my brother was caught in the middle and in a tough spot. I could tell Liam really liked this girl; he catered to her every whim. So, I tolerated what I could. But the real explosion between Mia and me happened because I brought my roommates home to crash for a night. It was my roommate Sarah’s birthday. The four of us went out to a club to celebrate. By the time we headed back, it was past midnight, and the dorms were locked. I suggested we crash at my condo. Sarah looked worried and said: “Is that a good idea? Won’t your brother’s girlfriend get mad?” I knew my friend was just looking out for me, but that sentence triggered me. My parents bought this condo for us. Why should I have to walk on eggshells around my brother’s girlfriend? At my strong insistence, my three roommates followed me home. Even though everyone had been drinking, my friends were considerate. Knowing it was late and Liam and Mia were asleep, they tried to be as quiet as possible. We slept peacefully through the night. The next morning, the moment I walked out of my bedroom, I saw Mia stomping toward me, looking furious and ready to interrogate me: “Chloe, what is your problem? It’s bad enough you freeload off us every day, but now you’re bringing your whole crew of friends to spend the night? Do you have no sense of boundaries?” Perfect. My friends were still right there, and she just aggressively threw that in my face. If I tolerated this, I’d change my last name! I didn’t say a word. I turned around, marched into her bedroom, grabbed her suitcase, and rapidly shoved all her clothes inside. Then I opened the front door and forcefully threw it outside! The suitcase wasn’t zipped properly, and her clothes scattered all over the floor. “Have I been too nice to you these past few days?” I pointed at the door, speaking calmly, “Get out. You are no longer welcome in our home.” Mia clearly hadn’t expected me to actually do this. She froze for a second, then sneered mockingly: “Who do you think you are? Let me tell you, Chloe, your brother is the only son in the Thorne family. Everything in this house belongs to him. Once you get married, you’re an outsider. What right do you have to tell me to get out?” 5 I was absolutely dumbfounded by Mia’s words. It was hard to imagine that this garbage was coming out of the mouth of a woman my own age. She hadn’t even married into the family yet, and she was already calculating that everything my family owned belonged to her and my brother? I laughed: “Listen to me, little girl. From now on, if you ever step one foot inside my house again, I will make you regret it. And if you actually manage to marry into our family, I’ll admit defeat.” I could tell Mia was furious. I glanced at her: “Still not leaving? Are you waiting for me to call security?” “I’m leaving.” Mia gritted her teeth. “I’ll wait for your brother to beg me to come back. Chloe, just you wait.” SLAM. I forcefully shut the door. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. I opened our family group chat and recounted exactly what had just happened, sending it directly to the group. This was a small group chat with just the four of us: my parents, Liam, and me. We chatted in it often; Liam and I popped in almost every day. As soon as the message was sent, my mom immediately jumped in: [Liam has a girlfriend? Since when? I’ve never heard that brat mention it.] My dad zeroed in on the main issue: [They’re living together? Is he ready to take responsibility for that girl, moving in together like that! [If he wants a girlfriend, your mom and I won’t stop him. But look at what she said! How are you an outsider? To me, she’s the complete stranger who has absolutely nothing to do with this family!] My dad went even harder, issuing an ultimatum: [Listen to me, boy. We won’t stop you from dating, but take a good look at what kind of person you’re with. If you still want to be with her, I won’t stop you, but you’re packing up and moving out today. From today on, this condo belongs solely to your sister. Figure it out yourself!] 6 The group chat was filled with my parents venting their anger. My brother never showed up, and I couldn’t reach him when I called. It was already past midnight. Normally, Liam would be back from his shift by now, but today he was nowhere to be found. It was fall, the rainy season. Outside, lightning flashed and thunder roared. It had been raining heavily all day. A chill breeze blew in from an open window, making me shiver. I felt a twinge of regret. Should I have handled this privately with Liam? Was it a bad idea to drag our parents into it? Just as I was thinking this, the sound of the passcode being entered came from the smart lock. I turned and saw Liam. He was soaking wet because he didn’t have an umbrella. I grabbed some paper towels and walked over: “Where have you been all day? You weren’t answering your phone either.” Liam didn’t speak, but I guessed he had seen the messages in the group chat. Our parents had been scolding him all afternoon; he definitely wasn’t feeling great. I dried his hair with the towels, trying to figure out how to comfort him. To my surprise, Liam turned his head away. When he looked at me, his eyes were full of resentment: “Chloe, did you really have to do that to Mia?” I froze. Liam continued: “Even if you didn’t want her living here, did you really have to pick a day with this kind of weather to kick her out?” Honestly, I never expected that my brother, whom I’d rarely fought with since we were kids, would one day argue with me over a girlfriend. In that moment, I was so angry I laughed: “Are you blind to the things she said to me? Can’t you see it? It’s clearly her fault for overstepping, and now you’re blaming me? This is my house. Do I need to pick a specific date to kick a stranger out?” “This is your house, but isn’t it my house too? Do I not have the right to use it?” Liam’s voice rose, getting agitated. “I know you look down on Mia and judge her because she comes from a rural family. But our family isn’t exactly billionaires either, right? What’s there to be so arrogant about? Did you have to humiliate her like that? Do you know she had a fever and cried all day? Her family doesn’t have as much money as ours, but she’s still her parents’ precious daughter. When has she ever suffered like this!” With that, Liam bumped past me: “I just came back to grab some essentials. Mia is waiting for me at a hotel.” 7 When did I ever look down on Mia or judge her for being from a rural family? I did know about her family background, but my objection to them being together had nothing to do with that! It was Mia who acted entitled, assuming everything in this family would belong to her and my brother. She occupied the condo my parents bought for both of us, yet scolded me for lacking boundaries. Her character was the problem! After that argument, Liam and I didn’t speak for two days, and he didn’t come back to the condo to sleep. A few days later, while eating alone in the dining hall, I unexpectedly ran into Liam and Mia. As soon as she saw me approaching, Mia immediately looked away—I don’t know if she did it on purpose—and turned to whine to Liam, asking to eat the ribs from his plate. Liam, on the other hand, looked guilty when he saw me. He quickly stood up, his tone trying to appease me: “Chloe, what do you want to eat? I’ll go buy it for you.” I didn’t say anything. Liam persisted, acting shameless: “Chloe, don’t ignore me. I was wrong for what I said before. Tell me what you want to eat, and I’ll buy it for you. Anything you want, consider it an apology, okay?” I still didn’t say a word. Just then, my phone rang. It was my dad. I turned and walked a few steps away to answer it. As soon as I picked up, I heard Mia’s displeased voice faintly drift over: “Why are you buying her food? Does she not have her own money? She’s always spending yours.” “How much could one lunch cost? The pair of sneakers my sister bought me for my birthday cost more than a month’s worth of meals, okay?” As he said this, Liam was already pulling out his meal card. “You’re not allowed to go.” Mia seemed determined to argue with him, pulling Liam back. “This isn’t about money. Does she not have hands or feet? Why is she ordering you around? And what was that coaxing tone you used just now? Seriously, you’re both adults, that tone is so inappropriate. Shouldn’t she keep her distance?” “Babe, can we please stop arguing? What’s inappropriate about me buying my own sister lunch?” The dining hall was pretty loud; I could only catch snippets of their conversation. Within a few sentences, Mia turned and stormed off in a huff. “Mia—” Liam hurriedly stood up and said to me in a panic, “Chloe, Mia hasn’t fully recovered yet, I need to take her to get an IV drip. I can’t buy your food today. Use my card, get whatever you want.” Saying that, he shoved his meal card into my hand and chased after Mia’s retreating figure. 8 It was evident that Mia had some serious manipulation skills, or maybe it was because this was Liam’s first real relationship and he was incredibly lovesick. Either way, he was completely under her thumb. After I kicked Mia out, Liam followed right behind her. They rented an apartment together in a complex near campus. I don’t know if Mia did it to spite me, but they rented a place in the exact same building as our condo. Occasionally, I’d even run into Mia in the elevator. Mia seemed very satisfied with her achievement of successfully convincing my brother to move out with her. She smiled and said to me: “Maya, how does it feel knowing your own brother doesn’t even side with you? Liam would rather move out of that condo for me. Must feel pretty awful going home to an empty place, right? Oh, by the way, Liam paid for our new apartment all by himself. He even sold the shoes you gave him to make rent. You’re not mad, are you, sister?” Awful? I felt fantastic. “The only thing awful is that I didn’t kick you two out sooner. You have no idea the joy of living alone.” Mia’s expression changed: “You’re truly shameless. That condo was clearly bought for your brother by your dad. Stop pretending your family doesn’t favor sons over daughters. I’ve never seen a family that doesn’t. You’re just riding his coattails. I was the one who let you live there. Did you really think you could live there in peace?” Wow. She was calling my family’s condo “letting me live there.” Did she really think she was being understanding and generous?

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My billionaire boss gave my executive position to his “darling” trophy wife. So, I checked out. Business plans? Not writing them! High-profile clients? Not meeting them! Million-dollar projects? Not touching them! Then, the funding vanished, the clients jumped ship, and the company teetered on the brink of bankruptcy. The “Alpha CEO” came crawling back, begging me to clean up the mess. I didn’t. Instead, I took the core team, built my own empire, and watched my name climb the Forbes list while his crashed into the dirt. 1 For the past year, I had crushed every KPI and passed every internal audit to secure the position of Marketing Director. But on my first day in the new role, my boss, Arthur Thorne, walked in with a stranger. “This is Tiffany Sterling. Starting today, she’s your new colleague.” She looked barely twenty, stunningly beautiful, and clung to Arthur’s arm like a delicate vine. Arthur scanned the morning meeting before his gaze landed on me. “Sloane Bennett, I expect you to assist Tiffany in everything she does.” The room went silent. Since when does a Director “assist” a new hire? Gossip spread like wildfire. Human Resources later slipped me her file with a sympathetic look. “She’s the boss’s new girl. To make her believe she got the job on merit, Arthur had three Ivy League MBAs interview as ‘decoys’ just to let her win. She’s a princess, Sloane. Good luck.” I flipped through her resume. Vocational school dropout. Worked as a cashier, a manicurist, and a bottle girl at a nightclub. Quite the “all-rounder.” Unfortunately, my team consisted of Stanford grads and former McKinsey consultants. Arthur was clearly trying to play out a “Cinderella and the Billionaire” fantasy. Having a “diversity hire” for the CEO’s ego is one thing—most people would just roll their eyes and move on. But I didn’t realize how much crazier it was about to get. 2 After the meeting, Arthur called me into his office. The door hadn’t even fully closed before I saw Tiffany sitting on his lap, giggling. I cleared my throat. “Mr. Thorne, you wanted to see me?” He didn’t look embarrassed. He gestured to a chair. “Sloane, I want you to hand over the Marketing Director position to Tiffany.” I froze. “Excuse me?” Setting aside her lack of a degree or experience, she had been at the company for exactly ten minutes. Executive appointments required Board approval. What was Arthur thinking? I looked at Tiffany, who was pouting perfectly. I kept my voice flat. “Then what is my role?” Arthur took a slow drag of his cigar, his voice dripping with that classic “Alpha CEO” arrogance. “Given your history with the firm, we aren’t letting you go. You’ll be Tiffany’s deputy. You’ll handle the work; she’ll handle the title.” I almost laughed. “Mr. Thorne, if you want to play house, give her a desk in the corner. Don’t swap out the leadership of your most critical department.” Tiffany’s eyes welled up instantly. “Sloane, don’t blame Arthur. I told him I wanted to ‘challenge myself’ in Marketing. I promise I’ll work hard.” Arthur looked at her with pure adoration, then turned back to me, his voice cold. “Tiffany is independent. She doesn’t want to rely on me; she wants to build something herself. That’s why I made this choice.” “If she wants to build something, why isn’t she starting as an intern?” I snapped. She whimpered, tucking her head into Arthur’s shoulder. Arthur’s brow furrowed. “She has no background. If I don’t give her authority, people will bully her. She’s my woman, Sloane. I won’t let her suffer a single grievance.” He tossed a transfer of authority form onto the desk. “Three minutes. Sign it.” I sneered. “I hope you don’t regret this.” Since Arthur’s mother stepped down as Chairperson three years ago, the company hadn’t innovated once. Our products were being slaughtered by competitors. The only reason we still had orders was because of the personal relationships I had cultivated over years of grinding. I was already exhausted from carrying his dead weight. If he wanted to hand the steering wheel to a toddler, fine by me. As I walked out, I heard Tiffany’s soft voice: “Arthur, is this okay? Is Sloane going to be mad?” And Arthur’s oily response: “Who cares about her? If she tries to make things hard for you, I’ll make her regret ever being born.” … Arthur and Tiffany vanished for three days. According to HR, Arthur bought her a $5 million luxury ranch in Montana as a “get-to-work” gift. I suddenly remembered that my $2 million year-end bonus—and the bonuses for my entire team—hadn’t been paid yet. When I had asked Finance, they told me “cash flow was tight” and payments were delayed. Now I knew where the cash went. It wasn’t tight. It was spent on a stable for a girl who couldn’t spell “Marketing.” I sat in my office all afternoon, drinking tea and reading the news. Arthur Thorne was a lost cause. But one way or another, I was going to get my team’s blood and sweat back from him. 3 On Friday night, I left the office early. I had a steak dinner, went home, took a long bath, and relaxed with my cat. It was the first peaceful night I’d had in four years. I was enjoying my “quiet quitting” when my phone started vibrating like a grenade. The company-wide Slack channel had a new announcement: “Mr. Thorne and Director Sterling invite everyone to their Montana ranch this weekend to celebrate their ‘Journey of Love.’” My team’s private group chat exploded. “I’ve worked eighty hours this week. I just want to sleep. Help me.” “I have a dentist appointment I’ve waited months for. Now this?” “It’s my daughter’s birthday tomorrow. I promised her Legoland!” I looked at the messages, imagining their frustrated faces. In corporate America, “mandatory fun” on weekends is the ultimate sin. And this wasn’t even team building. It was Arthur forcing his employees to be the audience for his cringe-inducing romance. The kicker? The ranch was a five-hour drive away. No company shuttle. Oh, and we were expected to bring our own “rustic gear” and gifts for the “happy couple.” I sent a single emoji to my team: They understood immediately. Monday morning, Arthur and Tiffany stormed into my office. “Sloane Bennett, you encouraged a mass walk-out. Explain yourself,” he roared, his voice echoing through the floor. I looked up calmly. “What are you talking about, Arthur? The attendance records for the Marketing department show no absences during business hours.” His face darkened. “The ranch invite. You didn’t show.” I acted surprised. “Oh, that? I only saw the notification this morning. Besides, that was a weekend. Since when is not attending a private party ‘absenteeism’?” He started to yell, but I cut him off. “According to the Fair Labor Standards Act and our specific state labor laws, mandatory attendance at a non-work event qualifies as compensable time. My team has already exceeded their overtime cap this month. Do you want me to file a formal report with the Department of Labor to verify the hours?” I forgot. Billionaire playboys usually think they’re above the law. He stared at me with those “Alpha” eyes—the ones that are supposed to make women swoon but just made me want to check my watch. “Sloane, do not test my patience.” That’s when Tiffany played her “Sweetheart” card. She tugged on his sleeve. “It’s okay, Arthur. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have expected everyone to be as happy as we are.” Then she turned to me with fake tears. “Sloane, no matter what you think of me, Arthur and I really wanted to host you. We just wanted everyone to feel like family.” Sure. “Family.” You ate Wagyu beef and lobster in a glass-walled dining room while you expected the staff to set up their own tents in the rain and grill cheap burgers. Even worse, Tiffany had suggested that the employees should spend their weekends “tilling the land” on the ranch to “experience the beauty of nature.” She was a classic Hallmark-movie heroine with the brain of a goldfish. Her “stoking the fire” act was clearly designed to get me fired. But Arthur wasn’t quite that stupid. He knew he couldn’t lose my client list yet. His assistant, Mr. Vance, whispered something in his ear. Arthur’s face relaxed slightly. “Fine. This time I’ll let it slide. But don’t push me again.” They left. Mr. Vance stayed behind for a second, sighing. “Ms. Bennett, you have to understand. The boss hasn’t smiled like this in ten years. Tiffany makes him happy. Just… try to be a team player.” I stared at him. “Ten years? Are you sure he doesn’t have a neurological condition? Have you taken him to a doctor?” Mr. Vance turned red, sputtered, and walked out. 4 On Tiffany’s first real day of work, she had to attend the weekly product briefing. The slide deck was all in complex technical English and data analytics. I watched her eyes glaze over. She looked at our Product Manager, Jessica, with a trembling lip. “Why is this all in jargon and data? This isn’t very ‘human-centric.’” Jessica blinked. “Tiffany, we are a global tech firm. These are the metrics our European and Asian partners require. It’s the basis of our business.” Tiffany’s face flushed. “Well, if they want our products, they should learn to adapt to us. This feels very elitist. We should be focusing on the ‘vibe’ of the brand.” Jessica was speechless. I leaned back. “Director Sterling is right. Who needs data when you have a ‘vibe’? Of course, every single person in this room understands the data. Except, apparently, the Director.” Tiffany looked like she was going to cry. At the end of the meeting, Jessica smiled tightly. “Director, we’ll need your quarterly market strategy by EOD tomorrow so we can align our production.” Tiffany sat in her office for eight hours. She didn’t write a single word. I saw the look of a digital illiterate facing a spreadsheet. Mr. Vance brought her templates from previous quarters, telling her to just “fill in the blanks.” She didn’t even know how to use PowerPoint. She couldn’t even convert a CSV into a bar chart. It was beyond pathetic. I finished my coffee, stretched, and watched the sunset. Another day of doing absolutely nothing. … After two days of this, Tiffany broke. That evening, Arthur came to pick her up. She immediately began frantically shuffling papers, looking “exhausted” and “diligent.” Arthur walked to her desk. “Who’s my hardworking little kitten?” She threw herself into his arms. “Oh, Arthur!” It was so greasy I felt like I needed a shower. I packed my bag to leave. “Arthur, I’m so sorry, I can’t have dinner with you tonight. I haven’t finished the report,” she whimpered. “You know I had to drop out of school to help my sick mother. I’m just… I’m trying so hard to keep up, but I don’t want to be a burden to you.” Arthur held her tight. “It’s okay. You shouldn’t have to do this anyway. I’ll have someone else do it for you.” Her eyes lit up, but she feigned hesitation. “But it’s so late…” Arthur pinched her nose. “You just focus on being beautiful. I’ll handle the rest.” He called out to me as I reached the door. “Sloane Bennett. Finish Tiffany’s report tonight. I want it on my desk by 8 AM.” I smiled. “I’m sorry, Arthur. It’s 6:01 PM. My shift is over. Furthermore, the employee handbook states clear role boundaries. This is the Director’s responsibility. I have no authority to touch her files.” He looked at me as if I were speaking a foreign language. “This is a growth opportunity for you. You should be grateful.” The classic corporate gaslighting. I looked at Tiffany and smiled politely. “Arthur, the one who needs the ‘opportunity’ is Tiffany. A Director who can’t use a computer is a rare specimen in this century. Maybe you should enroll her in a community college night class?” Then, I walked out. The main characters in these billionaire stories really have a screw loose. I knew exactly what world I was in. I was a side character in a trashy romance novel titled The CEO’s Darling Little Wife. Tiffany was the heroine. Innocent, beautiful, and “persecuted” by the cold corporate world. In the original plot, I was the “Jealous Female Executive” who tried to make her life a living hell. My ending? Arthur was supposed to fire me, blackball me from the industry, and leave me to be harassed by thugs until I died in poverty. And Tiffany, of course, would know “nothing” about it. She’d just wonder why her “mean” colleague disappeared. But why would I play that role? I worked for four years, becoming the top producer in the company, just for him to hand my job to a girl who thinks a “market strategy” is a mood board on Pinterest? He spent our team’s bonuses on a ranch for her ego. He didn’t care about the single moms on my team or the grads struggling with student loans. So, as a self-aware side character, “quiet quitting” was the only logical move. 5 Slacking off was addictive. After a week of me doing the bare minimum, Arthur finally snapped. “I told you to assist Tiffany!” he barked, hovering over my desk. I shrugged. “I am. I’m doing my job as a Deputy. Her job is… her job.” He scowled. “What will it take for you to actually help her?” “Simple,” I said, not looking up. “Pay the Marketing department our bonuses.” “The company has no liquidity right now! You know that!” Right. Plenty of cash for Montana ranches, none for the people actually making the money. “Then I guess I have no liquidity of effort,” I said, standing up to leave. As I reached the door, he grunted. “Fine. I’ll release half the bonus pool.” … Back at the department, Jessica came over. “Are you really going to help her?” I laughed. “A strategy costs $500k. A report is $400k. Minor tasks start at $50k. Once the money hits the accounts, we’ll talk.” A week later, I received a $1 million payment. My team got their overdue bonuses too. Everyone was thrilled. They invited me out for a celebratory dinner. I agreed, but as we were leaving the building, Tiffany and Arthur intercepted us. “We heard there’s a team dinner! We’re coming too,” Tiffany chirped, clinging to Arthur’s arm. My team and I exchanged looks of pure dread. At the steakhouse, the server handed out menus. “I’ll have the Ribeye, well-done, with peppercorn sauce,” I ordered. Tiffany giggled. “Sloane, you clearly haven’t been to high-end places often. You never order a steak well-done. Medium-rare is the only way.” She lifted her chin, looking triumphant. She looked at Arthur for backup. “Arthur takes me to the best places in the city. He taught me all about it.” I remembered Arthur’s Instagram post from a month ago, bragging about how he met a “pure, unpretentious girl” who took him to eat street food. I guess after three weeks of dating a billionaire, she’d already forgotten her “unpretentious” roots. I kept looking at the menu. “In Europe and high-end culinary circles, ‘Well-Done’ is considered a test of the meat’s quality and the chef’s skill. Low-end restaurants discourage it because they use cheap cuts that turn to leather. A top-tier chef can make a well-done steak succulent. If a restaurant tells you they can’t do it, it’s because they aren’t good enough.” I looked at the server. He caught my eye immediately. “Absolutely, ma’am. Our head chef is classically trained. We can accommodate any temperature perfectly.” I smiled at Tiffany. She looked humiliated, her eyes filling with tears. “Sloane, I know I’m just a commoner and I haven’t traveled the world like you, but you don’t have to be so mean about it.” Wow. The “victim” flip. Arthur glared at me. “Enough. It’s just a steak. Stop being a bully.” My team and I looked at each other. There was no saving this man’s brain. I laughed softly. “First, I’m not arguing. Second, Arthur, you should tell your girlfriend that ‘well-done’ isn’t a crime. And finally, eating at a steakhouse isn’t a status symbol. It’s just dinner. Only someone deeply insecure would think a steak temperature is an insult to their soul.” The food arrived, and the atmosphere was awkward for exactly two people: the brooding CEO and his pouting girlfriend. The rest of us had a great time. When the bill came, Arthur and Tiffany had already slipped out. They left a $2,500 tab. A junior staffer asked if we should cover it. I smiled at the server. “We were just sharing the table with those two. This is a separate bill. For the two who left without paying, you can check your CCTV and their parking validation. I’m sure the Thorne Group would hate to be reported for dine-and-dash.” My team muffled their laughter. Jessica gave me a thumbs-up. “Cold, Sloane. Stone cold.” I walked home under the moonlight, feeling great. But as I approached my building, I realized someone was following me. A shadow stayed exactly fifty feet behind me. I picked up my pace, stayed under the streetlights, and ducked into my building’s lobby. With the 24-hour security and keycard access, I was safe.

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On Tristan’s birthday, his friends started teasing me. “Hey, what does your sister look like when she has an epileptic seizure? Let us see.” Tristan raised his ice-cold eyes. “You want to see?” The crowd nodded eagerly. Tristan grabbed a bottle of liquor and poured it directly over my head. The intense stimulation instantly triggered a violent reaction. I collapsed to the floor, convulsing and foaming at the mouth. It wasn’t until I was on the verge of suffocating that Tristan finally knelt down to give me first aid. He looked at me with a twisted, playful smirk. “Still dare to say you love me?” I gasped for air, shaking my head frantically. “I don’t. Never again.” After that day, I truly stopped loving him. But he ended up completely losing his mind. 01 When I was thirteen, my mother and I moved into a massive mansion, and that was when I met the owner’s son, Tristan Vanderbilt. Tristan, just like his father, never showed any disgust toward my illness. The first time I had a seizure in front of him, even though he was visibly terrified, he obediently stood by Mr. Vanderbilt’s side and helped administer first aid. That day, the foam I coughed up ruined his favorite Persian rug. Tristan wasn’t angry at all. After I recovered, he even made me a bunch of delicious snacks. Mr. Vanderbilt said that since Tristan was five years older than me, he was my big brother and would take good care of me. He told me not to feel anxious and to treat this place like my own home. Eventually, I really did start treating this place as my home. And, without asking, I started treating Tristan as my entire world. Because of him, I was no longer terrified when kids at school bullied me. I even started to look forward to it, anticipating the moment Tristan would appear like a hero, stand up for me, and tell me not to be afraid because he would always be there. But sometimes, I felt a strange disconnect. In the hazy depths of my memory, it felt like someone else had been my hero first, though I could never remember his face. So, I just projected that blurry silhouette onto Tristan. As time went on, I realized my feelings for him were no longer pure. So, on the day I turned eighteen, I confessed my love. For the first time ever, Tristan’s perfectly sculpted brows knit together in deep disgust. With a look of pure repulsion, he snatched the cake I had spent hours baking for him and threw it straight into the swimming pool. I was paralyzed with panic. He grabbed me roughly by the chin. “Hazel, don’t ever say something like that again. It makes me sick. I have absolutely zero desire to kiss a mouth that foams.” I was terrified. Tristan had always been so gentle. His sudden, vicious hostility suffocated me. Right there by the pool, I went into a full-blown seizure. After that, I never mentioned my feelings again. I buried them deep in my heart all the way through my college graduation. Until the day my diary somehow ended up in his car, and I had to go to his birthday party to get it back… “Happy birthday,” I said as I walked in. I immediately spotted Tristan sitting in the center of the VIP lounge. He was wearing a festive birthday hat, but his expression was so freezing cold that no one dared to get too close. I didn’t dare approach him either. I quietly placed my gift in an inconspicuous corner and sat in the seat closest to the door, ready to slip out at a moment’s notice. The group sang a few songs and started playing drinking games. Taking advantage of the noisy crowd, I prepared to sneak away. But the moment I stood up, a guy dressed in a flashy, obnoxious shirt blocked my path. “Tristan, what does your sister look like when she has an epileptic seizure? Let us see.” As soon as the words left his mouth, the entire room turned their eyes toward me. My body tensed violently. I shot a panicked glance at Tristan. Tristan raised his ice-cold eyes, glaring at the guy with a hint of irritation. The guy instantly shut his mouth. But then, a delicate, feminine voice spoke up from beside Tristan. Because the lighting was so dim, I couldn’t see the woman’s face clearly. “I kinda want to see it too. You’re not going to be stingy and hide it from us, are you?” Tristan looked at me, then turned to the woman leaning against his shoulder. “You really want to see?” The woman hummed in agreement, and the rest of the sycophants in the room nodded eagerly. Getting his answer, Tristan picked up a bottle of high-proof liquor from the table and, without a second of hesitation, poured it directly over me. The overpowering scent of alcohol was a severe trigger for me. Instantly, my body went into shock. I collapsed to the floor, convulsing violently and foaming at the mouth. The crowd laughed. They pulled out their phones to record. Someone even nudged my calf with their foot. I seized uncontrollably, my body contorting into rigid, terrifying positions. It wasn’t until I was on the verge of suffocating that Tristan finally pushed the woman off his shoulder and walked over to give me first aid. His technique was practiced, but his eyes were full of a twisted, sadistic amusement. He leaned in and whispered in my ear: “Still dare to say you love me?” Gasping desperately for air, I shook my head frantically. “I don’t.” Satisfied, he stood up, walked back to his seat, and softly asked the woman who was now pretending to tremble in fear: “Did that scare you?” His voice was sickeningly doting. He tenderly wiped a fake tear from the woman’s cheek. She nodded, playing the victim perfectly. “It was so scary. I’m going to have nightmares tonight.” Tristan gently tapped her nose. “Little ghost. If you want me to stay with you tonight, just say so.” I froze on the floor. He used to tell me that “little ghost” was a nickname reserved exclusively for me. I looked at him with bloodshot, tear-filled eyes. Tristan met my gaze, and then deliberately leaned down and kissed the smug smile right off the woman’s lips. The room erupted in cheers, chanting, “Kiss her again!” The woman smiled shyly and nestled deep into Tristan’s chest. “Stop looking at me. You guys should keep watching Hazel. Her pathetic, humiliating state is way more entertaining.” Tristan pinched her cheek affectionately, calling her a clever girl. Then, he shot a look of pure apathy at me, still trembling by the door. “Let it go,” he said casually. “If we play with her anymore, she might actually die.” He picked up the bottle of liquor and poured the woman half a glass. She was visibly annoyed that he stopped the “game.” Taking advantage of Tristan coaxing her, I fled from that suffocating room. The moment I stepped outside, my tears finally broke through the dam. Tristan knew better than anyone how terrifying and helpless it felt when I had a seizure, yet he still used me as a cheap party trick to amuse his friends. He had made his point. I wouldn’t dare. I truly didn’t dare to love him anymore. Let this pathetic, one-sided devotion end completely today. 02 At eleven o’clock that night, he knocked on my bedroom door. “Come out.” I leaned against the doorframe and asked, “What do you want?” I heard the distinct rattle of pills in a plastic bottle from the other side of the door. “Take your medicine.” He was certainly doing his duty. Ever since I graduated college, Mr. Vanderbilt handed his company over to Tristan and, by extension, handed me over to him as well. Then, he took my mother and moved to Europe for their retirement. Tristan obediently took care of my every need. He was no longer the gentle older brother he used to be, but at least he had never made me suffer any real grievances. Until today’s incident. I opened the door just a crack and reached my hand out to take the pill organizer. But with a sudden burst of force, he shoved the door wide open. Tristan jammed his foot in the doorway, casually opened the pill organizer, and handed me the medication and a glass of water. He looked completely indifferent, as if the horrific humiliation I suffered just hours ago had never happened. I didn’t say a word. I swallowed the pills, drank the water, and prepared to shut the door. He didn’t move out of the way. Instead, he asked flatly: “Don’t you want a piece of candy to wash down the bitter taste?” Normally, that was exactly what I needed. But not anymore. Compared to the pills, my heart was infinitely more bitter. “No need.” I forcefully yanked the door shut. Walking back into my room, the voice call I had minimized earlier was still active. The sound of someone typing on a keyboard drifted from my phone speaker. I walked over to the desk, feeling incredibly apologetic. “I’m sorry, Dr. Hayes. You had to hear all that.” A soft “Mhm” came from the other end. He said one last thing before hanging up: “Let’s stop here for today. Go get some sleep. When you wake up, it will be a new day.” He was always like this. His words always had a way of bringing me a profound sense of comfort, making me feel like my condition was just a minor cold that wouldn’t ruin my life. His name was Dr. Asher Hayes. He was the neurologist my mother had hired to treat my epilepsy. Every time I had a seizure, I would talk to him afterward about my physical state and emotional triggers. Asher meticulously adjusted my treatment plan based on those conversations. Under his guidance, my condition had improved dramatically. I locked my phone and crawled into bed. But the moment I closed my eyes, I heard the click of the door lock turning. Followed by the squeak of the hinges. The door opened. Tristan was standing next to my bed, holding the purse I had left behind at the club. His face was dark with fury. “Who was the man you were just talking to?” I was startled by his aggressive expression. He pressed further. “Why is he calling you this late at night?” He reached out and flicked on the bedroom light. Still wearing his suit from the party, he stalked over to my bedside. I deliberately looked away from him, letting my gaze fall on the painting hanging on the wall. “His name is Asher Hayes. He’s my neurologist. Every time I have a seizure, I talk to him about the specific details.” Tristan grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. “So, after you left the club, you’ve been on the phone with him for three hours straight?” I gave a short “Mhm.” Tristan let out a dark, mocking chuckle. “Do you have a crush on him?” I couldn’t comprehend his twisted logic. I pulled the blanket up to cover my face, my voice muffled and cold. “You’re overthinking it, brother.” I don’t know what it was about that sentence that set him off, but he violently ripped the blanket off my head. His eyes were bloodshot as he slammed his fist into the mattress right next to my ear. “I forbid it.” I let out a cold scoff, treating his jealousy-laced demand like absolute garbage. “Based on what? You don’t love me, yet you want to hoard me like property. What kind of sick control freak behavior is that? Do I need to spell it out for you?” My tone must have been too fiercely indignant. He froze for a second, then seamlessly reverted to his usual, detached demeanor. “Go to sleep.” 03 I really did want to go to sleep. But the noises coming from him and that woman in the room next door made it impossible. When I finally dragged myself out of bed in the morning, I saw her wearing Tristan’s dress shirt. With her top buttons suggestively undone, she was busy in the kitchen, frying eggs and pouring milk. Seeing me come downstairs, she paused. Then, she covered her mouth and giggled, flashing a coquettish smile at Tristan, who was sitting at the dining table drinking coffee. “Pfft, sorry. Seeing your sister just reminded me of her lying on the floor twitching last night. It was pretty hilarious.” Tristan glanced up at me, didn’t say a word, and went back to looking at his iPad, discussing business through his earpiece. I felt incredibly awkward. The emotional distance I had carefully built up was completely shattered by her mockery. She, on the other hand, was entirely unabashed. She strutted over to me and handed me a glass of milk. “Let’s formally introduce ourselves. I’m Sloane. Sloane Sterling. I’m Tristan’s girlfriend. From now on, I’ll be living here to help Tristan take care of you.” Her tone was arrogant, and she gritted her teeth aggressively on the words “take care.” It felt like she was moving in specifically to monitor me, to ensure I didn’t harbor any lingering delusions about Tristan. I didn’t have the patience to be polite. I took the glass of milk and threw it directly into her face. Sloane shrieked, jumping back and frantically wiping the milk off her face. “I don’t need your care. I’ll move out.” With that, I turned around and went back to my room to pack my things. This place was suffocating. I decided to move back into the old, rundown apartment my mom owned before she married Mr. Vanderbilt. Even though it was far from the city center, at least I wouldn’t feel like I was suffocating every second of the day. Out of sight, out of mind. I packed a large suitcase to the brim and dragged it downstairs. At the front door, Tristan and Sloane were standing there, blocking my path. It looked like they were waiting for me. Tristan hooked his finger, motioning for me to come closer. “Come here. Apologize to Sloane.” Sloane leaned against Tristan, looking like the ultimate victim. I suddenly understood that old saying. A man’s idealized ‘first love’ is an illusion; the reality never measures up. How did the quiet, determined boy who protected me turn into someone so dark and disgusting? I walked up to them and let go of my suitcase handle. “I can apologize.” The moment I said that, the smug, triumphant look returned to Sloane’s face. “But regarding what happened last night,” I continued, “who is going to apologize to me?” Tristan’s brow furrowed deeply. Sloane quickly interjected. “Everyone was just drinking and having fun yesterday. Besides, it was your brother’s birthday. What’s wrong with providing a little entertainment for the guests?” Tristan avoided my gaze. I fired back without hesitation. “In that case, on my birthday, how about you perform a striptease to provide a little entertainment?” SMACK! Before the words even settled, Tristan slapped me hard across the face. “You’ve crossed the line.” A persistent ringing echoed in my ears. Tristan’s expression slowly morphed into one of panicked regret. I clutched my stinging cheek and stared at him with unwavering resolve. “This slap repays you for taking care of me all these years. From now on, I owe you absolutely nothing. And I will never harbor any pathetic, inappropriate feelings for you ever again.” Tristan grabbed my wrist. “Little ghost, I’m sorry.” I let out a cold scoff. “Are you sorry for humiliating me last night, or are you sorry for the slap today?” 04 As soon as I arrived at my old apartment, I got a call from my mom. “Hazel, why did you move out? Did you and Tristan have a fight?” Her tone was incredibly cautious. Half of her was worried about my well-being, but the other half was terrified of ruining her image in front of Mr. Vanderbilt. Ever since we moved into the Vanderbilt mansion, my mom had constantly lectured me. She told me we were guests living under someone else’s roof. We had to be extremely careful and absolutely never cause trouble for Mr. Vanderbilt or his son. I knew my mom loved Mr. Vanderbilt deeply. But because of her humble background and my medical condition, she always felt intensely inferior in his presence. Even though Mr. Vanderbilt never cared about any of that, human nature is complicated. The deeper you love, the more insecure you become. I told her, “He brought his girlfriend home to live with him. It’s not convenient for me to be there, so I moved back to our old place. Don’t worry, I’m perfectly fine.” My mom let out a relieved “Mhm.” “You’re right. We shouldn’t interrupt his personal life.” “But you living alone… it’s not safe.” “Here’s what we’ll do. Go find Mrs. Hayes. You can stay with her for a while. Once I have time, I’ll fly back, sell the old apartment, add my savings to it, and buy you a new place.” “Mrs. Hayes’s son, Asher, is also living there. That way, if anything happens, he can look after you.” I wanted to argue, but she hurriedly hung up the phone. A moment later, she texted me Mrs. Hayes’s address. I didn’t want my mom to worry, nor did I want to be a burden to her. For so many years, she had taken care of me all by herself. It was exhausting. Now that my health was stable and she finally had a life of her own, I couldn’t drag her down again. I grabbed the handle of the suitcase I had just unpacked and walked right back out the door. Mrs. Hayes lived in the city center, very close to the main hospital. Probably so Asher could commute to work easily. But it was very far from where I was now, and getting an Uber in this run-down neighborhood was nearly impossible. I waited for ten minutes, and not a single driver accepted my ride. Just as I was starting to panic. A message from Asher popped up on my phone. “Where are you? I’m coming to pick you up and bring you home.” I opened the message, and another one followed immediately. “Have you eaten breakfast yet?” Asher and I almost exclusively communicated online. In person, he mostly talked to my mom. Honestly, I felt a bit awkward agreeing to move into his house. But he always seemed to know exactly how to ease my anxiety, acting as the perfect calming presence. I texted him back. “Not yet. I’m at the corner of 6th and Elm.” He typed fast. It felt like he replied before I even hit send. “Go to Mrs. Davis’s diner at the end of the alley and grab some oatmeal. I’ll be there in about twenty minutes.” I always followed my doctor’s orders. If I didn’t, my condition wouldn’t be as well-managed as it was. So, I dragged my suitcase to the diner and ordered a bowl of oatmeal. Asher arrived. He wasn’t rushed or panicked. He scanned the small dining area, locked eyes with me, and walked over. “Did you not sleep well last night?” His question caught me off guard. My mind instantly flashed back to the sounds I had been forced to listen to all night. I felt a rush of embarrassment and anger. I didn’t know how to respond. Then he spoke again. “Make sure you get plenty of rest from now on.” “Are you done eating? I’ll take you home to meet my mom.” I nodded. But to my surprise, his face suddenly turned bright red. “Dr. Hayes, why is your face so red? Do you have a fever?” “N-no. I don’t.” He stood up, grabbed the handle of my suitcase, and started walking toward his car. It was only then I realized that his phrase, “Take you home to meet my mom,” carried a slightly different, more intimate connotation. I never expected a guy pushing thirty to be so easily embarrassed. 05 I had only been living at Asher’s house for a week when Tristan tracked me down. Mrs. Hayes was staying at her best friend’s house, and Asher was working a night shift. I had just put down my GRE prep books. The doorbell rang. When I opened the door, before I could even speak, Tristan grabbed my arm and dragged me toward the elevator. He was much stronger than me. Struggling would only end up hurting myself. So I just let him drag me. “You’re coming home with me.” I replied lazily. “No thanks. I need to study, and you need to build a relationship with your future wife. Me living there would just be awkward for everyone.” Tristan smirked. “You’re jealous.” I kept my lazy, detached tone. “I’m not. You’re overthinking it. I already told you I won’t have feelings for you anymore, so jealousy doesn’t exist for me. But if you drag me back there, your future wife might actually get jealous.” “And with my condition, I definitely can’t handle providing any more ‘entertainment’ for you guys. Be a decent human being and let me live. When you’re old and grey, I’ll attend your funeral.” Tristan’s grip on my wrist tightened painfully. “Why are you being so sarcastic? Didn’t I explain it to you? Sloane is the heiress of the Sterling Corporation. My company needs a massive contract from them. My relationship with her is purely business.” He had indeed sent me a text. Exactly one sentence. He said: I don’t actually like her. I’m doing this for the good of the company. Just endure it for a while. Hah. I laughed out loud when I read it. I did endure it. And it cost me half my life. Then I took a screenshot of his message and sent it directly to Sloane, hoping it would help her see what kind of garbage she was dating. I leaned against the elevator wall and yawned. “Brother, you don’t need to explain anything to me. We’re just siblings.” “You don’t like me, and I don’t like you. I know you’re only rushing to drag me back because of your deep, brotherly concern.” That finally pushed Tristan over the edge. If this were the past, I would have been desperately clinging to him, my heart racing with joy just at the thought of him caring whether I was jealous or not. But now, all I wanted to say was: If you don’t love me, get the hell away from me. … When the elevator doors opened, Tristan dragged me out and practically threw me into the passenger seat of his car. He drove fast. I barely had time to close my eyes before we arrived at his mansion. Sloane was waiting for us, her face twisted into a furious scowl. I don’t hold grudges, so I smiled and greeted her. “Good evening, sister-in-law. My brother and I have such a deep sibling bond, I’m just coming back to stay for one night.” “Don’t worry, I’ll get the hell out at the crack of dawn. To be honest, Dr. Hayes makes much better oatmeal than you make milk.” Before Sloane could snap back, Tristan grabbed my arm and dragged me upstairs to his study. He looked down at me from his towering height. His tone was incredibly impatient. “Hazel, be a good girl and stay here. I’ll figure out a way to explain this to Sloane.” I couldn’t take it anymore. “Tristan, what is actually wrong with you?” Hearing my words, his eyes went wide. “Are you cursing at me?” I rolled my eyes. I just wanted to say the one phrase that thoroughly disgusted both me and him. “You string me along while you’re hooking up with someone else. You want the best of both worlds. What kind of psychological disorder is that?” Tristan’s face went black. He paced the room, aggressively rubbing his jaw, his brow furrowed deeply. Then, his eyes landed on a half-empty bottle of liquor sitting on his bookshelf. He walked over, grabbed it, and slammed it down on the desk in front of me. The threat was unmistakable. “Are you going to stay, or not?” I stared directly into his eyes, looking completely fearless. But only I knew the truth. Just the smell of the alcohol triggered a violent physiological response. Before the bottle even touched me, my muscles started to twitch. “This again. So, what is it for this time?” “To force me to obey you? To make me act like a good little pet and stay by your side?” “Using my medical condition as a weapon to control me. You really are a wonderful brother.” As soon as the words left my mouth, my head began to uncontrollably jerk toward my left shoulder. Seeing that my symptoms were severe, Tristan made no move to help me. He just stood there, making sarcastic remarks. “You never used to talk to me like this. Have you really fallen for that doctor?” My eyes rolled back. I frantically reached for a pen on the desk, intending to bite down on it to prevent myself from biting my tongue when I completely lost consciousness. But things rarely go as planned. Tristan callously swiped the entire pen holder onto the floor. I glared at him with icy eyes. “What do you think?” “Asher is here to save my life. But you… you’re here to kill me.” With a dull thud, I collapsed onto the floor. My eyes rolled back as the convulsions took over. Then, the study door was suddenly shoved open. Sloane stormed in, looking furious. But when she saw the scene on the floor, she froze in horror. She frantically pulled out her phone to dial 911, simultaneously shoving Tristan. “Tristan, what the f*ck are you doing?! Save her!” My eyelids were fluttering at a high frequency, so I couldn’t see Tristan’s expression. It wasn’t until I started foaming at the mouth and my tongue lolled out… That I finally felt someone supporting my head. I survived another day. 06 When I regained consciousness, the first thing I saw was Tristan. He was sitting by the bed, trying to feed me medication. Seeing my eyes open, his tone was arrogant and triumphant. “I saved your life again. You can’t survive without me. Just stay by my side and be a good girl. You’re not going anywhere.” “Stop saying those cruel things just to make me angry. I know you still can’t let me go. Just be obedient. I’ll treat you well.” I rolled over, turning my back to him, thoroughly disgusted. Tristan wanted to say more, but Sloane knocked on the door and called him out into the hall. When I was finally alone in the room, my tears flowed uncontrollably. It was happening again. He was treating me like a pathetic toy to be humiliated and manipulated. As I was crying, my phone rang. It was my mom. “Mom.” I tried my hardest to keep my voice steady. It wasn’t the first time, anyway. She never noticed when I was crying. “Hazel, how is it living at Mrs. Hayes’s house? Are you getting used to it?” I wiped away the tear stains at the corners of my eyes and launched into a long, upbeat ramble. “Mrs. Hayes’s house is incredibly comfortable! She treats me so well, and her cooking is amazing. She even gives me plenty of alone time to study. I’m completely used to it. You don’t need to worry about me. How are things in Europe? Are you and Mr. Vanderbilt doing okay? Are you guys planning on giving me a little brother?” My mom let out a girlish laugh. “You silly girl, what kind of nonsense are you talking about?” Then, my mom brought up Asher. “By the way, what about Asher? How are you two getting along? I watched Asher grow up. He has a great personality, he’s reliable and mature. He is a bit older than you, but he looks very young. You’d never guess he’s almost thirty. What do you think of him?” “What do I think?” My mom hummed in agreement. “Yeah, what do you think of Asher?” I finally understood what she was doing. She wanted me to get closer to Asher. “Mom, Dr. Hayes is a wonderful person, but I’m not good enough for him. I don’t want to be a burden.” “Please don’t mention this again, okay? I don’t want Mrs. Hayes to think I’m living in her house with ulterior motives and stop making me delicious food.” My mom gave a disappointed “Mhm.” After a few seconds of silence, she asked cautiously: “Hazel, what about you? Are you happy lately? Do you want to talk to Mom for a bit? Mr. Vanderbilt went fishing with his friends, so Mom has plenty of free time.” The emotional wall I had carefully rebuilt instantly shattered. I covered the phone receiver and let out a quiet sob. Once I composed myself, I finally spoke. “I’m doing great! I’m just a bit stressed about my grad school applications. I’ll be fine after I watch a few episodes of my favorite show.” There was another pause on my mom’s end of the line. Then she said: “Okay. If you want to take the exam, then take it. If you don’t get in, just come home. Since Mom could raise you for the first half of your life, she can definitely support you for the second half.” “Alright, you go rest. I’m going to prep some food for Mr. Vanderbilt.” After she hung up, Sloane walked into the room. She didn’t say a word. She just walked over and ripped the blanket off me. I panicked, crossing my arms over my chest. “What the hell is your problem now?!” Sloane frowned, then looked incredibly embarrassed as she said: “I’m sorry, Hazel. I just realized how utterly pathetic I’ve been. Scheming against you, intentionally triggering your medical condition… all just to fight over a piece of trash.” “If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have seen what a monster Tristan truly is. Thank you for the wake-up call.” “I formally apologize for everything I’ve done to you. And I swear, I will never, ever use someone’s medical condition as a joke again.” “From now on, I, Sloane Sterling, will protect you. If you ever need anything, just say the word.” I looked at her in sheer bewilderment. “Is this a new manipulation tactic?” She gave an awkward laugh. “No, it’s the truth.” “When I think about the fact that I, the heiress of the Sterling Corporation, pretended to be a manipulative ‘pick-me’ girl and bullied an innocent person just to chase a toxic loser… I feel completely devoid of humanity.” Sloane actually looked incredibly sincere. I believed her. Good for her. She snapped out of it fast. I asked her: “If you’re apologizing, why did you rip my blanket off?” Sloane sighed. “To take you out of here, obviously.” “You don’t actually want to keep living in this hellhole, do you?”

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I was the entertainment industry’s widely acknowledged “bimbo,” dragged onto a luxury cruise ship’s live-stream reality show just to fill a spot on the roster. No one expected us to be hit by a terrorist attack midway through the voyage. Clutching a single eyebrow razor, I wiped out an entire squad of heavily armed mercenaries. Facing the live-stream cameras, I blinked innocently: “We’re all red-blooded Americans here.” “It’s perfectly normal to know a little self-defense, right?” 1 On the day of my retirement, my boss asked me with utmost warmth and friendliness: “Harper Vance, you’ve gone through hell and back for the Agency over the years. You’ve done your country a great service.” “If you have any requests for your retirement, just name them.” I immediately perked up, my eyes shining with anticipation: “My retirement life!” “The main theme has to be absolute luxury, glitz and glamour, indulging in the finest wines, partying until dawn, and endless nights of VIP clubbing in LA!” My boss… My boss had excellent manners. He smiled and said: “Understood!” “So basically, you want us to set you up for a fast track to federal prison, right?” Me… Three days later, I was packed up and tossed into Hollywood. Three years later, I had become the internet’s universally acknowledged “bimbo beauty.” But right when everyone was passionately discussing how I was good for absolutely nothing, yet still managed to be an A-lister because God practically force-fed me my career… Who would have thought that I was once the sharpest blade in the Agency? I hold the record for taking out 12 enemies in 3 seconds—a record that remains unbroken to this day. If “The Blade” is the most secretive covert organization in the world, then I was its most dangerous operative. Back then, whenever enemies mentioned me, they would tremble and say: “She spreads faster than a wildfire.” 2 “Carter, don’t go!” I jolted awake from the nightmare again, sitting bolt upright and gasping for air. A malicious voice drifted over from the side: “Oh my, some people really think they can do whatever they want just because they have a pretty face, huh?” “Do you really think Mr. Hayes is someone a bimbo like you can climb the ladder to reach?” “Calling his name in your sleep? Have you no shame!” The person speaking was Chloe Bennett, the entertainment industry’s designated “innocent sweetheart.” Her public image was infinitely better than mine. We were both signed to Apex Entertainment, but we were famously at each other’s throats. The shock from the nightmare left me disoriented for a moment. After catching my breath, I looked around the familiar dressing room, and it finally hit me—Carter was already dead. The man who had fought shoulder-to-shoulder with me was long gone, leaving not even a body behind. It was only then that I processed what Chloe had just said. I frowned and asked: “What Mr. Hayes were you just talking about?” Chloe rolled her eyes: “The most mysterious CEO of the Hayes Conglomerate, Carter Hayes, obviously.” “Just give up!” “I’ve already been invited to the luxury cruise live-stream show in a few days.” “Rumor has it that Mr. Hayes will be gracing us with his presence.” “I am going to make him fall in love with me at first sight!” “As for a brainless vase like you, you don’t even have the qualifications to board the ship!” My mouth twitched as I looked at the overly confident Chloe. I offered a sincere suggestion: “Remember to get some Botox before you board.” “Look at how much your skin is sagging. Be careful, or the flies buzzing around you will get trapped in your wrinkles.” “Also, being pretty really does mean you can do whatever you want~” “But since you aren’t pretty, you wouldn’t understand.” 3 Leaving the dressing room, I frantically dialed my agent’s number: “Tara! That luxury cruise live-stream show in two days—get me on it!” There was a full minute of dead silence on the other end, letting me yell “Hello? Hello?!” into the receiver. Just as my patience was running out, Tara finally spoke: “They invited you before, just to make up the numbers.” “You righteously refused, claiming you’d never sell your soul for five bucks!” I suddenly remembered. Yes, that did happen. At the time, I figured a cruise ship live-stream would mean way too much sun exposure. Only an idiot would go! Plus, the producer in charge of the show clearly thought I didn’t deserve to be there, which was why I turned it down. Guiltily, I cleared my throat and shamelessly sucked up: “So, um… I know you’re mad, but hold on a second!” “How much are they paying?” Tara replied: “They started at five million, then bumped it to six million.” I slammed the imaginary gavel: “While I won’t sell my soul for five bucks, I will absolutely sell it for six million dollars!” “Accept it!” Tara… Carter… Carter Hayes… Even though I knew it was impossible, a tiny sliver of hope still lingered in my heart. Whether it was a coincidence or a miracle, I had to see it with my own eyes. 4 Tara truly was a top-tier agent. Miraculously, at the very last minute, she managed to stuff me into the cast list. As a live reality show backed by massive manpower, resources, and capital, it naturally generated crazy buzz online. On the day of boarding, the hype reached its absolute peak on Twitter: [So excited! It’s finally starting!] [A live stream on a luxury cruise ship! That’s fresh!] [Look! Chloe is about to board!] [Did you guys hear? Rumor has it one of the female stars on this show has an insane background!] [I heard that too. Supposedly backed by a massive conglomerate…] [I bet it’s Chloe!] [Well, it’s definitely not that bimbo Harper Vance.] I hid by the ship’s railing, leisurely scrolling through the live chat. Suddenly, a voice rang out: “I didn’t expect to see you here.” “Agent Seven.” 5 I had already heard the footsteps approaching from behind, so I wasn’t surprised. I said flatly: “Mr. Sterling. I hope you’ve been well.” Winston Sterling was a textbook patriotic billionaire. For decades, he had donated money and resources to charity without hesitation. His motto was: “A strong nation relies on a prosperous economy.” As his business grew into a massive, diversified empire, he became a pivotal figure in the corporate world. Unfortunately, this offended some foreign syndicates. They hired dozens of the world’s best assassins and issued a kill order on him. At the time, I was ordered to protect him. In just half a month, I eliminated every single assassin and kept him alive. He was also the only person in the entertainment industry who knew my true identity after my retirement. Before we could exchange more than a few words, we were interrupted by a sudden rush of people. Chloe was surrounded in the center like a queen bee, flanked by reporters, show staff, bodyguards, and a handful of invited fans. A reporter asked her as they walked: “Regarding the internet rumors that you have an extraordinary background, how do you respond?” “Is it true, as people suspect, that you have a very high status?” Chloe answered without a moment’s hesitation: “Things like that… it’s better to keep a low profile.” “It’s not something to be flaunted in public.” Amid the awe-struck gasps of the crowd, I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. Chloe was pretty smart. She didn’t clarify or deny it, nor did she answer directly, but she expertly cultivated a “Yep, you guessed it, that’s me” aura. I even suspected she was the one who leaked those rumors online in the first place. After all, no one should have the ability to dig up my background. Maybe my laugh was too loud. Chloe shot me a deadly glare, but unexpectedly spotted Mr. Sterling standing next to me. She sashayed over gracefully, bringing the camera lenses right to us. “Harper, you really are so fake.” “You originally turned down the show’s invitation, but then you heard Mr. Hayes was coming, and you forced your way back in.” “And now, you’re trying to cozy up to Mr. Sterling.” “As celebrities, we need to have a basic bottom line.” Wow! In just a few sentences, she dumped two massive buckets of dirt on my head. As she intended, the live chat went crazy: [Wow, I didn’t know Harper was that kind of person.] [I always knew she was a bimbo, but I didn’t realize she was this manipulative.] Having finished trashing me, Chloe put on a show of sucking up to Mr. Sterling: “Mr. Sterling, I’ve heard so much about you.” “I’ve always wanted to pay you a visit, but never had the chance. It’s been such a regret.” Mr. Sterling’s status was unrivaled in the entire business world. Chloe was calculating perfectly: if she could just exchange a few words with him, her own status would skyrocket. However… Mr. Sterling looked flatly at Chloe’s extended hand. He didn’t shake it publicly as she hoped. Instead, he said coldly: “It’s not a regret.” “Because even if you tried to visit me, I wouldn’t see you.” “Even the CEO of your conglomerate has to make an appointment three months in advance to see me, let alone a nobody like you.” Chloe’s face instantly turned a sickly shade of green. The atmosphere was incredibly awkward. In the dead silence, Mr. Sterling politely gestured toward me: “I wonder if I might have the honor of inviting Miss Vance for a cup of tea?” I raised an eyebrow, nodded, and followed Mr. Sterling to the dining room, leaving everyone staring at each other in shock. The live chat went even crazier: [Can someone explain what just happened?!] [Why is Mr. Sterling so respectful to that bimbo Harper?!] [Chloe is the most embarrassed one here. Got slapped in the face on live TV.] [Hahaha, Mr. Sterling is hilarious!] 6 It was soon time for the evening banquet. This banquet was also the signal that the live stream had officially begun; everyone would be attending. I nervously changed into my evening gown. I was somewhat hoping that Carter Hayes was my Carter, but rationality told me that was impossible. Besides, if Carter was really alive, how could I explain the explosion back then… Suddenly, there was a knock on my door. I asked warily: “Who is it?” Chloe’s voice drifted in: “It’s me. Are you ready?” “Let’s go to the banquet hall together.” Me: ??? Hold on, since when were Chloe and I on such good terms? Why didn’t I know about this? But I didn’t overthink it. I grabbed my things and headed to the banquet hall with her. 7 On the way, Chloe linked her arm affectionately with mine and didn’t let go even when we entered the hall. We sat in adjacent seats, waiting for the event to start. Cameras covered every angle, broadcasting non-stop. Just then, I suddenly felt Chloe’s hand rubbing against my back. I… Was she sexually harassing me? I swiftly grabbed her hand. Looking closely, she was holding a standard eyebrow razor. My mouth twitched. In a split second, I understood what stunt she was trying to pull. She just wanted to slice my dress open so I’d make a fool of myself in public. Before I could say anything, the lights suddenly dimmed. The banquet was starting. At that exact moment, an ominous premonition washed over me. I had faced life-and-death situations countless times. In critical moments, my sixth sense was sharper than anything else. It was God’s way of giving you a real chance to survive. While I was on high alert, observing our surroundings, a scream pierced the air. Immediately after, all the exits slammed shut, and a squad of heavily armed mercenaries suddenly stormed into the banquet hall. Machine guns fired wildly into the ceiling. Screams erupted everywhere, and sheer panic set in. The mercenary leader stepped onto the stage: “Shut the f*ck up, all of you!” “Right now, on this cruise ship, I make the rules!” My brain raced: Where did these people board the ship? Is there an inside man? If they’ve boarded, it’s highly likely the ship has reached international waters. The mercenary leader laughed sinisterly: “This is a live stream, right? I wonder if anyone wants to watch a live ship massacre?” “You celebrities think you’re such hot sh*t, huh?” “From now on, one life is worth ten million dollars.” “Those who can pay, naturally, get to keep their lives.” “Otherwise, I’ll butcher one of you every half hour and throw you into the ocean to feed the sharks!” The live chat was losing its collective mind: [What’s going on? Mercenaries?!] [Is this real or fake?! Call the cops!] [They’re probably in international waters. It’ll take time to get there, plus there are so many hostages!] 8 Chloe was the first to burst into tears, snot and tears smearing her face: “I’ll pay! I’ll pay!” “Don’t kill me!” Chloe’s assistant whispered a reminder: “Chloe, we don’t have that much money!” “At most, we can scrape together five million.” Hearing this, the mercenary leader’s expression darkened: “Are you f*cking playing with me?” “Then we’ll start with you!” He reached out to grab Chloe. She was so terrified she instinctively pointed her only weapon—that ordinary eyebrow razor—at him in a desperate attempt to protect herself. The man laughed mockingly: “Just that?” “Are you kidding me?” “If you can actually hurt me with that little toy, I’ll hand over my title as Warlord of the Seas to you.” I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. The man narrowed his eyes and glared at me: “What are you laughing at?!” I crossed my legs, casually swirling the champagne in my glass with one hand: “Don’t turtles usually live in ponds?” “How did you end up in the ocean?” The man instantly flew into a rage: “Looks like someone’s begging to die!” “Fine! I’ll slaughter you first!” In an instant, the dark muzzle of his gun was aimed right at my forehead. The crowd screamed in terror. I ignored it all, stood up, and smoothed out my black silk gown. Then I walked over to Chloe, politely and elegantly holding out my hand: “Can I borrow that eyebrow razor for a second?” 9 Chloe was already paralyzed with fear and instinctively handed the razor to me. The mercenary leader sneered from the side: “Still care about your looks, huh?” “You really are a beauty. If you keep my boys entertained, I might just let you live a few more days.” I shook my head: “Villains always die from talking too much.” Before the words even faded, I struck like lightning. The eyebrow razor slashed across the mercenary leader’s throat in a fraction of a second. Blood sprayed into the air. The man clutched his neck in disbelief, a trembling finger pointing at me. But unfortunately for him, he couldn’t speak anymore. Before the blood droplets even hit the floor, he collapsed with a heavy thud, crashing into a table. The remaining mercenaries finally reacted, raising their rifles and firing a hail of bullets at me. I used the overturned table for slight cover, calculating the positions of everyone in the room and the number of bullets they had left. The enemies emptied their magazines. In that brief split-second window, I silently slipped behind them. I grabbed one of the men in a rear chokehold, using him as a human shield while pushing forward. A few mercenaries tried to surround me. I leaped, landed smoothly, and backhanded the two closest to me, taking them out instantly. The remaining two tried to flank and shoot me from the left and right. But to their surprise, I launched myself upward. The bullets grazed past me and slammed squarely into each other’s bodies. By now, the surviving mercenaries had regrouped. One of them grabbed Chloe, who happened to be the closest: “Drop your weapon!” “Or I’ll butcher her!” I waved the blood-stained eyebrow razor, raised an eyebrow, and laughed aloud: “First of all, is this eyebrow razor the ‘weapon’ you’re referring to?” “How can you be this garbage and call yourselves mercenaries?” “You guys are like cheap crops, each batch worse than the last.” “Secondly, the person you grabbed is my rival.” “I f*cking hate her.” The mercenary panicked. Without thinking, he shoved Chloe to the ground, intending to grab a different hostage. He didn’t know that this was exactly the moment I was waiting for. I hurled the eyebrow razor. It sliced through his carotid artery and kept flying. Moving like a phantom, I was there a split second later to catch it on the other side, dropping into a flawless single-knee landing. But the last remaining enemies had already flanked me from behind. All escape routes were sealed off, and a sharp combat knife lunged toward me. After taking out the enemy in front of me, I instantly sidestepped. The knife barely grazed my gown, slicing the fabric. I crushed the attacker’s throat with one hand. With a sharp snap, he stopped breathing. At that moment, the last three mercenaries suddenly pointed at the tattoo exposed by my torn dress: “She’s Agent Seven!” “Agent Seven from The Blade!” “We can’t win! Run!” I frowned. I never showed my face during missions, but the seven-leaf clover tattoo on my shoulder had once struck fear into the hearts of many. I didn’t expect it to be exposed now. I vaulted forward to block their escape path. Before I could speak, a commotion erupted from outside. The Coast Guard had arrived. The room full of celebrities uniformly maintained one expression: jaw-dropping shock. They were so stunned they couldn’t even answer the police’s questions properly. A young rookie cop surveyed the scene, frowning as he asked: “Who killed these men?” A celebrity pointed a trembling finger at me: “The… the bimbo… I mean! The esteemed Ms. Vance, the superhero.” The rookie cop stepped over the bodies and walked up to me: “Please hand over your weapon so we can log it as evidence.” I nonchalantly tossed the eyebrow razor into the evidence bag. The cop stared at it in confusion: “What is this?” I replied matter-of-factly: “My weapon.” The cop gave me an “Are you kidding me” look and was about to speak when another voice interrupted: “She’s not kidding you.” “That is her weapon.” “Forget a blade. If she wants to, a piece of string or a tree branch is more than enough for her to eliminate an enemy.” I turned to look at the speaker. It seemed to be their SWAT team commander. I tilted my head in confusion: I don’t think I know him?

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I was the craziest actress in Hollywood. Because I was bound to a “Superstar System.” If I didn’t focus on my career, the system would literally make me explode! 1 Other people come to Hollywood to be movie stars. I came to be a Special Forces operative. [886 photos posted, 3 dance studio videos, 2 recording studio videos, and 8 daily vlogs in two months. Is Chloe Thorne in Hollywood to be a Navy SEAL?] [That’s not all! My girl Chloe has 3 upcoming movies, 2 reality shows in the pipeline, and zero scandals since her debut. I heard she’s starting a new shoot tomorrow. I seriously suspect she has a system.] When my agent, Monica, read those two top comments out loud, I was right in the middle of picking the script for my next project. “Chloe, you’ve been working non-stop since you debuted the year before last. Don’t you want to take a few months off this year?” Monica advised me. I wanted to rest too, but if I rested, my system would throw a fit. It would kill me. That’s right! I actually have a system. Ever since the finale night of the talent show, I was automatically bound to the “Superstar System.” The main quest of the “Superstar System” is: [Win the Academy Award for Best Actress within three years.] [Quest Success: Reward of $800 billion.] [Quest Failure: Explode and die.] [Please note: While progressing through the main quest, side quests will be randomly triggered.] Tell me, do I dare to rest? “No,” I refused decisively. “Monica, didn’t director James Cameron send over a script? Why don’t I see it?” Monica pursed her lips: “The female lead for Cameron’s project has already been decided.” “It’s Olivia Vance.” Olivia Vance. My former teammate from the limited-time girl group that had already disbanded. On the night of the finale, I beat Olivia by a single vote. Olivia was a product of capital; she had numerous financial backers behind her. They were supposed to guarantee her first place, but I came out of nowhere. I had too many organic votes from the public, so many that even the organizers couldn’t suppress them. So I debuted in first place, and she took second. For the past two years, she had been secretly competing with me. Although she stole quite a few leading roles from me, unfortunately, the persona her backers gave her was the “Only Pure White Jasmine in Hollywood.” Therefore, her acting roles were limited, and I could still snatch some good scripts that slipped through her fingers. But this movie by James Cameron, Shadows, I absolutely would not yield to her. Because two months ago, I completed my third side quest. The system gave me a crucial piece of information. James Cameron’s movie Shadows will be nominated for the 78th Academy Awards, and the actress playing the female lead will win Best Actress. Which means—the Oscar. The 78th Academy Awards ceremony is in December of this year, exactly the third year of my main quest’s time limit. I had to get the female lead role in Shadows, even if it killed me. “Monica, is Director Cameron in L.A. right now? I want to invite him to dinner.” Monica paused for a moment: “Director Cameron has a dinner meeting with Olivia at 9 PM tonight.” I frowned: “Monica, if I hadn’t asked, were you not planning to tell me?” “Chloe, you’ve developed too fast these past two years.” “The agency talked to me a couple of days ago. They want you to rest for a year, slow down your pace.” Understood. Olivia was applying pressure. Unable to keep up with my pace, she could only resort to such despicable methods to force me to stop. “Monica, you should be able to get the address for Director Cameron’s dinner tonight, right?” Monica remained silent for a long time, picked up her phone, and forwarded me a location pin. 2 At 9:15 PM. Wearing stilettos, I pushed open the door to VIP Room 1. When Olivia saw me, she was visibly surprised. “Director Cameron, what is the meaning of this?” “You invite me to dinner and call…” Before Olivia could finish her sentence, I threw a glass of water right in her face. “Bitch! You homewrecker, I’ll teach you to steal my man!” Olivia was stunned, frozen in place. I followed up with slap after slap to her face. Slapping her cheeks bright red. “I saw you and David coming out of the hotel!” “Do I have to catch you in bed to get you to admit you’re a homewrecker?” “Chloe Thorne! Are you crazy?” “What homewrecker?” “Is there something wrong with your brain?” Olivia, finally reacting, covered her face, her eyes red, feeling incredibly wronged. I calmed myself down and sat down next to Olivia. I grabbed her hand and apologized sincerely. “Sorry, Olivia. I made you act out a scene with me without you knowing.” “But, your acting seems a bit rusty.” Olivia was furious. She shook off my hand and glared at me viciously: “Who knew you were acting?” I looked at James Cameron, who was sitting there perfectly composed, with a hint of surprise in my tone: “Director Cameron, is this the female lead you chose?” “A female lead who doesn’t even remember the highlight scene from the script?” James Cameron took a deep breath, looking up at me: “Chloe, there’s no denying your acting is very good, and you fit the female lead in Shadows perfectly.” “But Olivia is the female lead designated by the investors. I have no choice.” “Also, who showed you the script for Shadows?” “I did.” Before I could answer, someone else beat me to it. The door to the private room was pushed open again, and a broad silhouette appeared along with a cold, deep voice. “Has Director Cameron considered changing investors?” We both looked in the direction of the voice. James Cameron immediately stood up, a hint of trepidation in his voice: “Mr., Mr. Sterling?” “What brings you here?” Arthur Sterling smoothly sat down next to me, his expression nonchalant: “Ms. Thorne asked me to come, so I came.” Arthur Sterling. The most powerful and influential businessman in the New York elite circle. He started from nothing and single-handedly crushed all the flourishing enterprises in the city during his prime. He fought his way out from among thousands of companies. To this day, he can command the wind and rain in any circle. In the sixth month after my debut night, I triggered the first side quest. The quest was: Within three months, fan engagement must reach 80%, and New York elite Arthur Sterling must actively initiate the strategy process towards you. Actively initiate the strategy process? Meaning, fall in love with me? I stayed up all night researching “Arthur Sterling.” When I found out he had half the entertainment industry in the palm of his hand, I posted 88 beautiful photos for marketing the very next day. For those three months, I trended countless times and was active on Twitter almost 24/7. Under my diligent efforts, finally, in the third month, the task was completed. That night, I received a call from an unknown number: “Is this Ms. Chloe Thorne?” “Mr. Sterling would like to invite you to dinner.” “I’m sorry, my schedule is full recently. Please contact my agent.” Yes, I refused. Even though latching onto Arthur meant I would never have to worry about resources for the rest of my life. But there was a rumor that Arthur once had a girlfriend who was kept like a caged bird. After getting together with Arthur, she was restricted from taking intimate scenes and couldn’t interact with any opposite sex. I couldn’t do that. I wasn’t willing to give up my career to become someone else’s accessory. After that day, I found an opportunity. I met Arthur on a very formal occasion. It was when I won my first Best Singer award, and it was also the first time Arthur, as the organizer, came to present an award to a singer. I knew with my eyes closed that Arthur was there for me. On the glittering stage, he personally handed the shining golden trophy into my hands. I bowed slightly, leaning close to his ear: “Mr. Sterling, I’m sorry, I really couldn’t make time last time.” “You know, other people come to Hollywood to be female stars, but I came to be a Special Forces operative.” “Can I buy you dinner next time?” Arthur looked up and met my eyes for a second: “On call, anytime.” 3 The next time I contacted Arthur was exactly 1 hour before arriving at the private room. I called him from the production van. “Is this Mr. Sterling?” “Ms. Thorne, it is.” “Are you free tonight? For dinner?” “I can be.” “Then,” I was a little nervous, “Would you mind if I used you for a bit?” The other end of the line went silent for a few seconds. Then, a deep male voice sounded: “Let’s hear it.” I told Arthur my entire plan. Two minutes after hanging up, he sent a file and two voice messages: — Shadows.docx — “I’m not in the city; I’ll arrive a few minutes later than you.” — “Call me if anything happens.” Arthur wasn’t in the city? He was out of town? And he rushed back for me? I admit, in that moment, I was nervous. “Director Cameron, does the industry really not care about acting skills anymore?” Arthur’s gaze was cold, his voice lazy but carrying a hint of sarcasm. “Mr. Sterling, I can’t decide this either.” “If I don’t use the actor they designated, the investors will pull their funding, and I won’t be able to shoot this movie.” James Cameron frantically explained to Arthur. Olivia, sitting next to me, started to look uncomfortable, her face showing distress. After all, no one in all of New York didn’t fear Arthur. “I’ll have them withdraw their investment. I’ll take over.” “The opening ceremony is set for tomorrow.” “The female lead is Chloe Thorne.” The business was handled before we even ate. When Arthur does things, he really is all about high efficiency and cutting the crap. “Good! Good!” “I was planning to send the script to Chloe anyway.” “If she isn’t the female lead, this movie of mine really would be ruined.” James Cameron hurriedly agreed with Arthur, kissing up to me. Arthur ignored him, casually checking the watch on his wrist. Then, he leaned in, close to my ear, and whispered: “I have something to do. I’m leaving first.” The warm breath brushed my ear, making it feel hot. I thought since Arthur had done me such a huge favor, he would definitely ask for something in return. I had even prepared my excuse for politely declining him tonight. But he just left without another word. It seems that in this high society blinded by money and luxury, there are still people who live with clear heads. 4 After Arthur left, I held Olivia’s hand again, pretending to be sympathetic: “I’m sorry, Olivia. Director Cameron said you weren’t up to par.” “I’ll be taking this female lead role.” “Oh, and I forgot to tell you.” “There was only one slap in the script. The rest were payback for the stunt double on your last movie.” Olivia had a slapping scene in her last movie too. She could have easily gotten it right in one or two takes, but she intentionally messed up over a dozen times. It caused the stunt double to suffer soft tissue damage to her face. Most importantly, this stunt double wasn’t just anybody. She was the one who debuted in 9th place the year we did, our former teammate. The “Only Pure White Jasmine in Hollywood” sure was pure white. Olivia was furious, but she didn’t dare raise a hand to hit me. Because with her fragile little frame, she absolutely couldn’t beat me. She could only resort to insulting me with her words resentfully: “Chloe, you speak as if you’re so much nobler than me!” “I have financial backers, don’t you too?” “Did he just whisper in your ear to go wait for him at the hotel and tell you to hurry up?” “Arthur did you such a huge favor.” “Aren’t you going to get played to death tonight?” I sneered: “Olivia, everyone in the industry knows you have a suite on the top floor of the Pegasus Tower.” “Every Tuesday night, the lights on the top floor stay on all night.” “Whenever I got off work late and passed by there, I used to think, as a fellow woman, if I had enough power, I definitely wouldn’t let you become a plaything for capital.” Olivia didn’t seem to fully grasp what I was saying. “What do you mean?” I changed my tone, unable to hide the smirk on my lips: “But then I thought about it, it seems no one forced you back then.” “You proactively climbed into the beds of those executives yourself.” “Looks like you brought it upon yourself.” Olivia went crazy. She grabbed whatever was on the table and threw it at me. I quickly stepped back, dodging her attack. “Olivia, you’re still exactly the same as you were back in the factory. When you lose an argument, you just go crazy.” Teaching her a little lesson was enough; I didn’t plan on dragging out the fight. So I shifted my gaze to James Cameron: “Director Cameron, I will be on time for the opening ceremony tomorrow.” “I hope we have a pleasant collaboration.” As I left, I heard James Cameron sigh: “Olivia, why did you have to provoke her?” 5 After that day, Arthur never contacted me again. I was pressed for time and the tasks were heavy. Operating on the principle of “less is more,” I didn’t actively contact Arthur either. The shooting schedule for Shadows was set for 4 months, and 3 months had already flown by. The shooting progress was very smooth. I figured it must be under Arthur’s protection. The last month was entirely outdoor location shoots. Today was a scene where I fell off a cliff by the ocean. I had to jump into the sea from an 8-story-high cliff. Even though I had wire protection, in this stormy weather, I was still a little nervous. [Scene one, take one.] The moment the clapperboard snapped, filming officially began. Wearing a white wedding dress, I looked at the camera with tear-filled eyes, then ran desperately towards the edge of the cliff. The rain mixed with the tears on my face. The moment I leaped over the cliff and soared through the air, the entire movie was elevated to its climax. But, when this perfect take finally ended, what welcomed me wasn’t the director’s praise and the crew’s cheers, but the freezing, bone-chilling seawater. I don’t know what went wrong with the wire, but the moment I lost my balance— It snapped. Before I could even call for help, I was knocked unconscious by the waves. … When I was about to slip into nothingness, I heard someone calling me: “Chloe!” “Chloe!!” His voice was strange yet familiar. I wanted to open my eyes, but my eyelids felt so heavy. Ultimately, I couldn’t open my eyes. I only heard him gently say in my ear: “Chloe, you must stay safe.” 6 When I woke up again, I was in a psychiatric hospital. My hands and feet were tied to a hospital bed. “Is anyone there?” “Why am I tied up?” “Monica! Monica!” … I yelled for a long time before a nurse in a white coat finally came in. “What are you yelling for?” “You can leave when you’re cured. If you don’t cooperate, we’ll give you a sedative.” “I’m not sick!” “Who diagnosed me? I just had a little accident on set. There’s nothing wrong with my brain!” “Let me make a phone call; I’ll have someone come pick me up!” The doctor in the white coat sneered: “See, you’re talking nonsense already, and you still say you aren’t sick.” Then, she slammed a file she was holding onto the table next to me: “Who told you to offend someone you shouldn’t have?” “The boss said, if you sign this agreement, you can leave immediately.” “Otherwise, stay in this psychiatric hospital for the rest of your life.” “What agreement?” I stopped struggling and forced myself to calm down. The doctor untied my hands and feet. I picked up the agreement and laughed in anger when I saw the name of the first party. The person who set this trap for me was the backer behind Olivia, the chairman of the Pegasus Group—Marcus Pegasus. This agreement laid out three demands. After my contract with my current agency expires, I will sign with Pegasus Entertainment. In any resource conflict between me and Olivia, I will unconditionally yield to her. I must visit the suite on the top floor of the Pegasus Tower once a week. My hand clutching the agreement tightened inch by inch. This wasn’t an agreement; this was an insult. I tore the agreement to shreds and threw it in the doctor’s face. “Tell Chairman Pegasus, I’d rather die than submit.” The doctor scoffed: “Doing it the hard way, I see.” I had been in the psychiatric hospital for a week. Aside from the doctors on routine rounds, I hadn’t seen anyone else. Logically, if my agent Monica couldn’t find me, she would have called the police that very day. What’s more, I had so many dedicated fans and was under intense public scrutiny. How many people had Marcus Pegasus bought off? What exactly was the situation outside right now? Taking a step back, the investor for this movie was Arthur Sterling. How did Marcus Pegasus dare to make a move on me? Could it be that something happened to Arthur? Then who was the person speaking in my ear after I fell off the cliff? … The more I thought about it, the more confused I became. I frustratingly ran my hands through my hair. “System, System!” I called out in my mind. I wanted to ask this “Superstar System” if I was still on track with the main quest. I felt like if this kept up, I wouldn’t become a superstar. I’d become a super psycho. I called out to the system dozens of times, but didn’t hear a single response. Could it be that after the fall, it automatically detached from my body? I didn’t know… My head hurt so much it felt like it was going to explode. 7 Another week passed, and I finally found a way out. The window in the hospital room bathroom was a little loose. I used a chair to smash the latch open. At 2 AM, I climbed out the window in the dark. The whole building was terrifyingly quiet. Looking around, I realized I was the only one on this floor. The night was a bit cold, and the eerie wind blew straight into my hospital gown. I hunched my shoulders and ran towards the first floor with steady, light steps. I figured that once I escaped this hellhole, I would immediately borrow a passerby’s phone to post on Twitter. As long as I stirred up public opinion, Marcus Pegasus wouldn’t dare act so recklessly again. But imagination is beautiful, and reality is harsh. When I reached the first floor, I looked at the main door secured with three padlocks, and a deep sense of powerlessness washed over me. I circled the first floor again and again. When I confirmed that this was the only exit, I felt a bit desperate. I walked back the way I came, step by step, but every floor was sealed with a grid of wire mesh security grilles. Just like that, I climbed all the way to the top floor. One door on the top floor wasn’t locked. I pushed the door open and walked to the edge of the parapet under the dim light. I climbed onto the parapet and sat on it. The view from the top floor was excellent. Looking up, I could see the city lights in the distance and a sky full of stars. Looking down, I could see my bottomless, uncertain future. After trying so hard for so long, it seemed that with my own strength, I still couldn’t fight against capital. Now there were only two paths laid out before me: Either become Marcus Pegasus’s plaything and money-making tool, or jump from this 8th floor and end it all. Either way, I was not going to stay in this psychiatric hospital for the rest of my life. Actually, I already had an answer in my heart. There was only one path I could take. Just jump! Otherwise, if I’m discovered later, I won’t even be able to die if I wanted to. I placed my hands on the parapet and stood up. [DANGER ALERT!] [DANGER ALERT!] [DANGER ALERT!] [Detecting suicidal tendencies in the host. The system is about to detach from the host’s body.] Hearing the voice inside me, I smiled self-deprecatingly: “So you’re still here. Since even you can’t resolve this situation, it looks like my quest really has reached its end.” “System, next time find a host with a bit more capability!” “Don’t end up with an ending like mine.” I closed my eyes, and tears slipped from my eyelashes. “Chloe!” Just as I was about to jump from the roof, a roar pulled me back from the brink of death. This voice was exactly the same as the one I heard when I fell off the cliff. I turned towards the sound and saw a helicopter hovering above the roof. It slowly descended and landed steadily. I clearly saw the person sprinting out of the helicopter. “Arthur?” While I was still in a daze, he had already pulled me down from the parapet. “I’m sorry, I dragged you into this,” he apologized to me in a low voice. I looked up and caught a glimpse of the powerlessness in his eyes. Whether in public or private, I had never seen him look so defeated. “It’s okay.” “It’s going to be okay.” “Everything will be okay.” I comforted him with three sentences in a row. Actually, it wasn’t just to comfort him; it was also to comfort myself. Arthur carried me onto the helicopter. The helicopter took off, taking me away from this torturous place. 8 Rain pattered against the helicopter windows, and the cabin was deathly quiet. “What happened? Tell me,” I spoke first. A cynical smile leaked from the corner of Arthur’s mouth: “I was set up.” I learned from Arthur that three months ago, he was backstabbed by his best friend. Problems kept popping up in his company one after another. The night I called him, he was in a neighboring city dealing with the company’s financial issues. For the past three months, he had been flying non-stop domestically and internationally, drinking glass after glass at business dinners. Despite such difficulties, he still helped me secure Shadows. Hearing this, I was somewhat moved. I, who swore to only focus on my career and forsake love, actually felt a pang of sympathy. I thought, if I hadn’t completed the side quest concerning Arthur back then, would he not have encountered all this? Arthur said Marcus Pegasus wanted to acquire all properties under his name. He refused, so Marcus Pegasus reached his claws out to me. The issue with my wire happened because Marcus Pegasus had someone tamper with it. When he received the video of my fall sent by Marcus Pegasus, Arthur was on his way to the airport. He said thank god, thank god he arrived in time. After giving me CPR, I regained consciousness. I gently touched my lips. CPR? I had absolutely no memory of it. Arthur said that when he saw I had regained consciousness and noticed my agent Monica nearby, he left. He originally thought Marcus Pegasus’s revenge ended there. Who knew all he wanted was more than just to give Arthur a warning. He also wanted my life. It seems even Monica had been bought off by him. I also told Arthur about what happened in the psychiatric hospital over the past two weeks. When he heard about the agreement, I could see the anger practically overflowing from Arthur’s eyes. “How much longer can you hold out at the latest?” I asked, counting the days. “Right now, the cash flow is completely broken. I can hold out until the end of the year, at the absolute most.” “That’s enough,” I said, falling silent for a moment. “You must wait for me. I’ll figure something out.” Arthur kept his head down and said softly: “Chloe, with your profession, you can’t earn the capital I need.” “Trust me.” I looked at him with a firm gaze. Arthur didn’t speak. We fell into silence once again, each preoccupied with our own thoughts. A long while later, I noticed the helicopter was about to enter the airspace over New York. “Where are we going?” I asked. “My house,” Arthur replied. “No, let’s go to the White Mansion Villas.” Arthur and I exchanged a look: “That’s…” “Monica’s house,” I interjected. Arthur frowned involuntarily: “Monica has already been bought off by Marcus Pegasus. If you go to her…” “I have leverage on her,” I paused for two seconds. “I need a phone.” Arthur blinked, didn’t ask further, and handed over his own phone. “Passcode,” I asked softly. “0207.” My eyelashes fluttered slightly. February 7th, my birthday. After unlocking the phone, I logged out of his ID and logged into my own. I should be thankful that I had backed up all the evidence back then. “Can I open your photo album?” I asked for permission beforehand, afraid of invading Arthur’s privacy. Arthur’s gaze fell on my face. After a long pause, he said: “You may.” With his permission, I opened the photo album, and pictures of me came into view one by one. If these weren’t all photos taken from a third-person perspective, I would have thought my own selfies had all synced over. Unable to contain my curiosity, I clicked on a few photos. This one is… The debut night two years ago. This one is… The set of my first web drama. But at this time, I hadn’t triggered the first side quest yet. I snapped my head up and looked at Arthur. His gaze had long since shifted away from me, looking out the window. Could it be that he fell in love with me not because of the reward after I completed the quest? “Arthur, when did you start liking me?” I asked, my voice carrying a barely perceptible tremor. “Very early. A very long time ago.”

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My parents were always a little too kind to our housekeeper, treating her more like family than an employee. When her daughter came to stay with us for the summer, she slowly tried to weave herself into our lives—acting diligent, sweet-talking my parents, and playing the part of the perfect girl. She even started using our family driver to take her to parties, and my parents, in their generosity, always allowed it. That was until I came home early one day and overheard her coaxing my mother: “Auntie, since Riley is committed to being child-free anyway, she’ll never give you grandbabies.” “Why don’t you just take me in as your legal god-daughter? I could marry your nephew, Parker. That way, the babies stay in the family, and you can finally have the big, happy family you deserve.” 1 Mrs. Dawson had been acting distracted lately. Her chores were half-done, and she seemed to be carrying a heavy weight on her shoulders. Worried, my mom finally pulled her aside to ask what was wrong. It turned out her daughter, Tiffany, was finishing up her junior year at a community college in the city. With summer break starting, the dorms were closing, and she had nowhere to go. They were from a small town across the country, and a last-minute flight home was too expensive. Besides, Tiffany had an internship lined up in the city starting next month, and the back-and-forth travel would be a waste of money. But renting a place near us? A month’s rent and expenses would eat up half of Mrs. Dawson’s salary. Mrs. Dawson had been our housekeeper for over ten years. She was meticulous, gentle, and had saved my parents a lot of headaches over the decade. My mom didn’t hesitate. She glanced upstairs. “We have plenty of guest rooms on the second floor.” Mrs. Dawson protested, saying it would be an imposition, but my mom just smiled. “It’s fine. Those rooms are just gathering dust anyway.” The next day, Tiffany arrived with her suitcases. My parents, assuming a college student would have a lot of gear, sent our driver, Arthur, to pick her up from the train station. An hour later, I heard voices in the driveway. Arthur was hauling two massive suitcases, sweating through his uniform, while a young girl walked behind him empty-handed, chatting and laughing as if they were old friends. Mrs. Dawson rushed out to meet her, fussing over her as if she’d just returned from a war zone. “Oh, honey! Is it too hot out? Were those bags too heavy for you?” Arthur dropped the bags in the foyer, panting, and wiped his brow. I finally spoke up. “Mrs. Dawson, maybe get Arthur a glass of water?” Tiffany looked up. Her gaze bypassed me entirely, landing straight on my mother sitting in the living room. She beamed, revealing a pair of sweet dimples, and gave a respectful little bow. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Miller. I’m so sorry for the trouble.” My mom smiled and gestured toward the stairs. “Riley, why don’t you and Mrs. Dawson show Tiffany to her room?” We went up to the second floor. Tiffany trailed behind us as Mrs. Dawson gave her the tour. “This is Riley’s room, and that smaller one next to it is her walk-in closet.” “And this little room here… that’s for Riley’s dog.” Tiffany’s eyes widened. “The dog has its own room?” I was sitting on the rug, brushing my Pomeranian. I looked up calmly. “Yes. Bentley is basically my child.” Tiffany asked curiously, “Then, Riley, where will your actual kids stay?” Mrs. Dawson cut her off before I could respond. “Riley isn’t having children. Don’t be nosy about other people’s business, Tiffany.” Aside from my room and Bentley’s, there were three guest rooms. Tiffany peered into the others. “There are clothes in this one. Is someone staying here?” “That’s for my cousin, Parker,” I said. “He stays with us sometimes during his breaks.” I pointed to a smaller room at the end of the hall. “Mrs. Dawson just cleaned that one. It has fresh linens. You’ll be staying there.” Tiffany looked at it, then sighed, rubbing her arm. “Riley, I’ve been having some really bad allergies lately. The doctor said I need as much sunlight as possible. That room looks a bit cold and damp. I’m afraid if my skin gets worse, it might be contagious.” Mrs. Dawson looked at me awkwardly, then at her daughter. “Which room did you have in mind then?” I asked. Tiffany scanned the three rooms and pointed to one. “Could I have that one? The light looks amazing there.” I followed her finger. The room she wanted was the one directly connected to my cousin Parker’s suite. 2 I don’t know what Mrs. Dawson said to my mother, but Mom let Tiffany have the room. Since it was summer break and she had nothing to do, Tiffany spent her days “helping” her mother around the house. Sometimes I’d wake up near noon and go downstairs to see Mrs. Dawson busy in the kitchen while Tiffany sat on the sofa with my mom, watching TV. “Going to the office today, Riley?” Tiffany would jump up to grab my bag the moment I stepped out. I bent down to put on my shoes. “No. I have my own art studio and café to run.” My mom laughed. “Our Riley has no interest in the corporate world. She studied fine arts abroad and loves tinkering with her pastries and coffee now.” Tiffany sighed regretfully. “That’s such a shame. Who’s going to take over the family empire?” My dad walked in from the garden just then. Hearing her, he joked, “With a group this big, if no one in the family wants it, I guess the board of directors will just have to handle it. No heirs in this house!” “Mr. Miller, I’m actually a business major,” Tiffany said enthusiastically. “My professor just started teaching us how to analyze financial statements. Maybe I could help you look over some market trends sometime.” My dad gave her a hearty, encouraging smile. “Not bad! It’s good for young people to keep learning.” He headed to his study, leaving my mom, Mrs. Dawson, and Tiffany in the living room. Mrs. Dawson started sighing, telling my mom that Tiffany was actually a straight-A student, but she had “panic attacks” during her SATs, which is why she ended up at a community college instead of an Ivy League. My mom sipped her tea and comforted her. “It’s alright. She can always transfer or go to a top-tier grad school later.” “Transferring or grad school in the U.S. is so competitive though,” Tiffany said, glancing at me before turning back to my mom. “I’m so jealous of Riley. She doesn’t have to do anything but hang out with friends and go shopping.” “I wish I could have studied abroad too.” 3 I glanced toward the kitchen where Mrs. Dawson was still scrubbing the stove. “Studying abroad isn’t that simple. There’s the funding, the language prep, the applications.” “If I recall, Mrs. Dawson said your tuition was currently covered by student loans?” Tiffany stiffened for a second, then quickly turned to pour more tea for my mom. “Yeah, but I’ll pay those off in a month or two once I graduate. I just don’t want my mom to have to work so hard.” Mrs. Dawson used to always talk about how “sensible” and “brilliant” Tiffany was. My parents, knowing it wasn’t easy for a single mother to raise a daughter, offered more words of comfort, echoing Mrs. Dawson’s praise of Tiffany’s “filial piety.” I thought that was the end of it, but that afternoon, our driver Arthur mentioned something while picking me up. Apparently, Mrs. Dawson had asked my mom for a massive cash advance on her salary to pay off Tiffany’s tuition upfront. Since she’d been with us for ten years and her contract still had six months on it, my mom figured it was fine to give her the money early. “Mrs. Dawson’s had it rough,” Arthur sighed. “No education, but she raised a daughter who made it to college. Good thing the girl is so bright.” “She’s sweet and takes care of her mom. No wonder Mrs. Dawson listens to everything she says.” When I got home, I was carrying several packages. There was a big sale on a luxury pet site, so I’d stocked up on premium treats and organic food for Bentley. I walked into a strangely quiet house. As I sat on the floor to unbox the packages, I heard footsteps on the stairs—Tiffany and Mrs. Dawson were coming down from the second floor. I looked around. Usually, the moment Bentley heard my footsteps, he’d come charging down to greet me. “Buying more stuff, Riley?” Tiffany glanced at the boxes, her tone unreadable. “How much does all that cost? You really treat that dog like a prince.” “Mrs. Dawson, where’s Bentley?” I asked, not looking up from the tape I was cutting. “Oh, he was being a nuisance, so Tiffany suggested we put him on the balcony,” Mrs. Dawson said, pouring herself a glass of water. “He was getting underfoot while I was vacuuming. Back in my hometown, a dog like that would get a good swat to teach him some manners.” “Dogs are naturally low-class. You have to show them who’s boss, or they’ll think they own the place.” “You left him on the balcony all afternoon?” I roared, standing up so fast I knocked over a box. I shoved past them and sprinted upstairs. It was the middle of July. The temperature outside was nearly 100 degrees. Sure enough, I pushed open the glass door to find Bentley huddled in a tiny corner of shade, panting heavily, his body burning to the touch. I scooped him up, rushed downstairs, and ran straight for the bathroom. “Mrs. Dawson! Get me lukewarm water and some ice packs! Now!” Seeing my face, Mrs. Dawson panicked. “Okay! I’m going!” We worked on him for nearly an hour. Finally, Bentley started to revive, his tail giving a weak little wag. Tiffany watched the whole thing, looking bored. “Riley, don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic over a dog?” “Auntie Miller told me you treat this dog like he’s a little god, even more important than your own parents.” “A dog is just a dog. It can’t even talk. Your parents were just saying how quiet and lonely the house feels without any grandchildren.” I slammed a box of dog food onto the floor. The sound echoed like a gunshot. She jumped, staring at me in shock. “This dog cost me five thousand dollars!” I walked toward her, step by step, a cold smile on my face. “I treat him like a god because he’s worth more to me than you are. Even my actual relatives don’t dare touch my private business.” “Who the hell do you think you are?” 4 Tiffany was terrified. Her eyes turned red instantly. Mrs. Dawson rushed to comfort her. “Oh, it’s okay! Riley’s just stressed!” She turned to me, trying to play the mediator. “Riley, Tiffany didn’t know. Don’t take it out on her.” My parents walked in just then, carrying shopping bags. Seeing the standoff, my dad asked, “What’s going on? Why is everyone standing around in the living room?” Mrs. Dawson quickly explained, “Nothing much. Tiffany just put Riley’s dog outside, and he almost got heatstroke.” “Oh?” My mom glanced at Bentley, frowning. “Is he okay?” “He’s not okay! I came home and found him barely breathing!” Before I could finish, Tiffany’s tears started falling in giant drops. “Auntie, is the dog really that expensive?” “I didn’t know. I just saw my mom working so hard to clean, and the dog was making a mess. I was just trying to help.” The moment she said that, Mrs. Dawson doubled down, pleading with my mom: “Tiffany didn’t know the dog was so valuable…” “She was just looking out for me. Who knew Riley had such a temper…” The two of them were a perfect duo—one crying, one apologizing with a long face, making it look like I was the villain bullying them. Mrs. Dawson had been with us for a long time, and my mom was clearly getting a headache from the drama. “From now on, don’t touch anything in this house without permission,” Mom said. She pulled Tiffany aside and said firmly, “Apologize to Riley. You’re new here; it’s natural you don’t know the house rules yet.” It was a graceful exit my mom provided, largely for Mrs. Dawson’s sake. Tiffany hesitated for a long time before mumbling, “I’m sorry…” Mrs. Dawson quickly grabbed my hand and Tiffany’s hand, stacking them together. “Your sister Riley has a good heart. She won’t hold it against you.” “She’s known you since you were a baby, Riley. You two should be like sisters.” I coldly pulled my hand away. Tiffany’s hand was left hanging awkwardly in the air. My mom picked up Bentley. “Well, we’re heading to the lake house tomorrow to escape the heat anyway. We’ll bring Bentley. The fresh air will do him good.” Our family had a vacation home in the Hamptons. We went every year during the peak of summer. “Riley, can you make it this time?” my dad asked. “Didn’t you say the new café opening was coming up?” I took Bentley back and rubbed his head. “I probably can’t. We’re short-staffed.” The new café was in its final stages. My business partner was away on a business trip, so I was the only one available to oversee the site. Usually, when we went to the Hamptons, we took Mrs. Dawson to help with the cooking. Since I was staying behind and had just clashed with Tiffany, Mrs. Dawson said awkwardly, “Maybe… I should take Tiffany with me?” “That way Riley can have some peace and quiet at home.” My mom, knowing my temper, knew that if she left me alone with Tiffany, there’d be another explosion. “Take her along, then.” “But we only have the one guest room available there.” Tiffany immediately gave a sweet smile. “Auntie, I can just share a room with my mom. It’s no problem at all.” 5 After my parents left, the house felt empty. I was buried in the final renovations for the café, coming home and falling straight into bed. It took a few days of living like a zombie before I remembered to check in on them. I scrolled through Instagram. Mrs. Dawson hadn’t posted much, but my mom was active. There were photos of her reading by a floor-to-ceiling window and looking out over the water from the deck. I chuckled to myself. My dad’s photography skills were finally improving. But then I saw a reflection in my mom’s sunglasses—the silhouette of a young girl. I realized then that Tiffany had commented on almost every single one of my mother’s posts. Tiffany had added me on social media a while back, claiming she wanted me to send her some “lifestyle photos” of her mom. We had never actually spoken online, but now her name was all over my mom’s feed. Tiffany: [So beautiful! Who took this amazing shot? Me, of course! Hahaha.] [Auntie, you look so young! I’m so jealous of your skin, ugh!] [Gorgeous! I’m officially your personal photographer now! Uncle Miller is retired!] I felt a strange tightness in my chest. I scrolled through Mrs. Dawson’s feed. There were only a handful of photos, and Tiffany hadn’t even liked them. I decided to text my mom to see when they were coming back. She replied almost instantly. [Next week, honey. Why? Do you want to join us?] [Is it too hot in the city?] I typed back quickly: [Not really.] [It’s just summer break. Parker said he’s coming over in a few weeks to visit you.] Parker was my mom’s favorite nephew. The moment she heard that, her tone shifted. [Oh! Then I’ll come back this weekend.] [Get the guest rooms ready. Have the linens washed and changed.] I thought my mom was joking. But a few days later, I heard the front door open. My mom was back. “Ugh, I forgot how bad the city heat is. It was so much nicer at the lake.” “Riley, you should have come. How have you been? Have you been living off takeout again?” “I brought back some organic wild berries. I’ll have Mrs. Dawson make you a smoothie tonight.” I looked behind them. Someone was missing. “Mrs. Dawson, is your daughter not with you?” Mrs. Dawson was busy organizing bags of organic produce in the kitchen. “No. On the way back, she got a call from some friends. Apparently, there’s a big party tonight.” I didn’t think much of it and went upstairs. But soon, I saw Tiffany’s latest post. She was taking a selfie in my family’s Mercedes, carefully making sure the logo was visible. She was surrounded by a crowd, wearing a designer dress and sunglasses, smiling like a star. The caption read: “The Miller Princess is back in town!” 6 I don’t have many hobbies, but I love clothes. Sometimes I buy things, wear them once or twice, and then get bored. My closet was overflowing. Every season, my mom and I would pack up several bags of clothes to donate to charity. In the last batch, there were a few designer dresses from a high-end French brand. Since I’d been spending all my time at the construction site, I’d been wearing denim shorts and old t-shirts every day. I’d given a bunch of those older “work” clothes to Mrs. Dawson to take to the local donation center. I looked at the dress Tiffany was wearing in her photo. It was one of the designer dresses I’d put in the donation pile. I get the vanity of a young girl. A two-thousand-dollar dress is no small thing. But I never said she could have it. Technically, wasn’t this theft? That evening, I stood by the second-floor window and saw Arthur pull into the driveway. Tiffany stepped out of the backseat with an air of elegance. She and Arthur were chatting as they walked in. She was carrying a stack of gift bags—probably presents from her “friends.” “Mom! What’s for dinner?” Tiffany walked into the kitchen in her heels. “Wow! Roasted chicken! Smells amazing~” I stood on the landing, watching her. She didn’t look like the shy college student who had arrived a few weeks ago in a plain t-shirt and skirt. Now, she was glowing with confidence, draped in designer brands. Last week, she’d claimed her phone was broken and asked if we had any “spare” iPhones lying around. After I said no, she’d pestered her mother until Mrs. Dawson used two months of her salary to buy her the latest model. “Arthur, were you out with Tiffany?” I asked as I walked slowly down the stairs. Arthur looked a bit embarrassed. “No, I just saw her on my way back and gave her a lift.” Tiffany was an expert at networking. She was sweet and knew exactly how to charm my parents. To outsiders, it looked like she had already been integrated into the Miller family. Arthur went to rest for a bit before picking up my dad from the office. Tiffany walked out of the kitchen. She saw me and instinctively smoothed her dress, looking a bit awkward. “Hey, Riley.” To be honest, aside from the incident with Bentley, her little power moves hadn’t really affected me. I was too busy to care. “Mrs. Dawson, I thought I told you to take those clothes to the donation center,” I said with a smile. “If Tiffany needed clothes, you should have told me. I have plenty of old things I could have given her.” Tiffany’s face turned bright red. She turned to her mother, frowning. “Mom, you told me you bought this for me! Why is it Riley’s? You forgot to pay her for it again, didn’t you?” Mrs. Dawson froze, then quickly fumbled for her phone. “Riley, I’m so sorry. I saw this dress and it looked so new, so I took it. How much was it?” I looked at Mrs. Dawson, then at Tiffany. It was obvious Tiffany was throwing her mother under the bus. Judging by Mrs. Dawson’s reaction, they hadn’t discussed this “lie” beforehand. Seeing that, I felt a wave of pity for the woman. Tiffany was Mrs. Dawson’s only pride and joy, which is why she spoiled her so much, giving her everything she asked for. But it was clear that Mrs. Dawson could no longer keep up with Tiffany’s appetite. “The dress was two thousand retail. But since I’ve worn it a few times, just give me five hundred.” Normally, I wouldn’t care about a used dress or five hundred dollars. But I wanted to give Mrs. Dawson a wake-up call after all her years of service. Tiffany had bet that I wouldn’t ask for money from her mother. She never expected me to actually name a price. The mother and daughter were stunned. Mrs. Dawson fumbled with her phone for a long time. “How about… I just take it out of next month’s—” “Mrs. Dawson, you’ve already taken an advance for Tiffany’s tuition,” I said. I smiled, leaving no room for negotiation. “Venmo it to me.” … That night, as I passed the kitchen, I heard them arguing. “Mom! Why can’t you just get on better terms with Riley’s parents? I’m starting my internship soon. You need to have her dad put me in the corporate office!” “Look at how much money you’ve spent these last few weeks! That’s half a year’s salary for me!” “You have to spend money to fit in with people like them! If I don’t wear nice clothes, everyone at the office will look down on me.” “I tried talking to Mrs. Miller about the internship, but she didn’t take the bait. I don’t think they see us as equals,” Mrs. Dawson sighed. Tiffany lowered her voice, speaking rapidly. “Mom! You’ve worked for them for over ten years. You’ve earned this! And I’m a business major. It’s not like I’m asking for a handout. If Mr. Miller mentors me, I’ll be ten times better than Riley.” “She just stays up late painting and making coffee. She only got into that school because you guys paid for it. We’re just as good; we just don’t have the money.” “If I play my cards right with Auntie Miller, maybe she’ll take me in as a god-daughter. Then we’ll finally be set!” “You’re just a small-town woman, Mom. You have no vision. Listening to you is why we’re stuck like this.” I listened to them in silence, feeling only amusement. They saw us as a meal ticket. I’d thought about warning Mrs. Dawson, but seeing this, I realized there was no point. Renovations at the café were done, and I was back to my boring routine. I was actually curious to see what kind of “waves” this college senior thought she could make. Tiffany didn’t disappoint me. She couldn’t sit still for long. 7 After she’d been staying with us for two weeks, my dad suddenly asked during lunch: “So, Tiffany, when does your internship start?” I was casually watching TV, not joining the conversation. Tiffany’s eyes lit up. “I actually found an internship, but I decided not to take it.” My mom looked up. “Why? It’s hard to find good internships these days.” “I know, but the firm expected a lot of overtime. They wanted me staying until 8 or 9 PM every night,” Tiffany sighed. “And even though they said weekends were off, the HR manager mentioned I’d likely be writing reports from home.” “The benefits weren’t great either. Just the bare minimum.” Tiffany grew more animated. “And the pay! It was only three thousand a month. My mom makes more than that as a housekeeper.” My dad chuckled. “So, what kind of job are you looking for?” This was exactly the opening Tiffany wanted. She looked at my mom, sitting up straight and acting poised. “Nothing too crazy. Just a standard 9-to-5 with weekends off and full benefits. I don’t want to be a regular clerk; I want to be on the business management track. Eventually, I want to be in an executive role.” “I’m open to public or private sectors, but if it’s private, I’d prefer a large, stable corporation. I’ve heard international firms have the best perks. Some of my classmates are looking at Fortune 500 companies.” “Since I’m an entry-level intern, I’m not asking for much. Five or six thousand a month would be fine.” My dad glanced at my mom. His voice was neutral as he smiled. “You’ve certainly done your research.” Tiffany smiled back, scooting closer to my mom on the sofa. “I have. Honestly, Mr. Miller, your company sounds perfect.” “I was wondering if I might have the honor of working there.” When she finished, the room went dead silent. My mom took a sip of her tea. I was the one who finally broke the silence with a smile. “Tiffany, our front desk doesn’t have very strict education requirements, but you might not meet the height requirement. We usually look for girls who are at least 5’7″ for reception.” Tiffany stammered, “What… what about an assistant role, Auntie?” “Business management requires a lot of actual experience,” my mom said. She and my dad shared a knowing look. “We don’t hire interns with zero experience for those roles.” Tiffany grew desperate. “Auntie, I’m a fast learner. I can study!” “Learning is one thing, experience is another,” my mom said firmly. “College knowledge is just theory. It’s not enough for the real world.” “You’re young. You should start from the bottom and work your way up.” Tiffany wanted to argue, but the doorbell rang. Someone was here.

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When I discovered that my adoptive parents’ family had stolen my “luck,” I decided to let it all go. I started slacking off. I daydreamed in class, handed in blank exams, and voluntarily sat next to the worst student in our grade. The result? My slacking off got me accepted into Stanford, my adoptive sister didn’t even get into a community college, and my adoptive parents’ business was on the verge of bankruptcy. They knelt and begged me to try hard again. I sneered: “Move aside. Don’t block my way to inheriting a multi-million dollar fortune.” 1. After receiving another abysmal report card, I jumped into the river. Standing on the bridge, the disappointed faces of my adoptive parents flashed through my mind. They said, “Maya, why did you do so poorly again?” My adoptive sister, Chloe, sneered from the side, “You pretend to work so hard all the time, but the truth comes out during the exams.” I defended myself quietly. I wasn’t pretending. I really was trying my best. I only slept five hours a day, attended four tutoring classes on weekends, and had stacks of study materials piled high. I even memorized vocabulary words while eating and walking. But hearing this only made Chloe laugh louder. She said, “Maya, if you work so hard, why are you always at the bottom of the class?” Out of more than six hundred seniors, Chloe consistently ranked in the top three, while I was always somewhere past four hundred. To her, I was practically dead last. I had no answer, but Chloe wouldn’t let it go. “Either you’re a liar, or there’s something wrong with your brain.” She leaned in and whispered in my ear, her words feeling like a curse: “Either way, you’re just trash. What’s the point of you even being alive?” “Maya, why don’t you just die?” Later, I kept asking myself: What is the point of me being alive? My grades were terrible, nothing went right, and the people around me treated me like a jinx, avoiding me at all costs. I closed my eyes and leaped into the freezing river. 2. [Congratulations on awakening the ‘Slacker System.’ Activation successful. Wishing you a happy life where all your wishes come true.] A robotic voice echoed in my head. Just as I opened my eyes, a wave of nausea hit me. After coughing for what felt like ages, I finally felt a bit better. I looked around, my emotions a tangled mess. I didn’t die. I had learned the whole truth and awakened the Slacker System. It turned out I was originally supposed to have a happy, fulfilling life. But my adoptive parents’ family schemed to steal my “luck” (qi yun). The harder I worked, the happier they became, and the unluckier I got. I felt the [Slacker Progress Bar] in my mind. It was a metallic cylinder, with the number 0% displayed right above it. When that number hits 100%, I will get my luck back and live a normal life. A cold wind blew, and I couldn’t help but shiver, pulling my jacket tighter around me. All those agonizing memories finally made sense. My adoptive parents pushed me to study relentlessly, nearly driving me insane. It was all just to ensure Chloe got excellent grades and their business thrived. That’s why, no matter how much Chloe cried and complained about me, they insisted on keeping me around. I had begged them for familial love, but from beginning to end, they only saw me as a tool to be used. The people I thought were my family were actually the culprits who pushed me to despair. I swear I will make them pay. 3. By the time I walked home, it was already dark. My adoptive parents’ family was having dinner, laughing and talking. Seeing me walk in, they instantly went quiet. Chloe let out a cold snort: “Oh, you know how to come home? I thought you did so badly on the test you were too ashamed to show your face.” My adoptive father put on a fake smile: “Maya, it’s okay if you didn’t do well. Just try harder next time.” He looked so high and mighty, pretending to be magnanimous. They were waiting for me to apologize, to reflect on my mistakes, and to promise I would work even harder next time. Well, they were going to be disappointed. Under their watchful eyes, I walked into the kitchen, scooped a heaping bowl of rice, and sat straight down at the dining table to eat. The atmosphere grew even weirder. Chloe’s eyes widened: “How dare you sit at the table?” Right. Chloe never let me eat at the table. She said I was too much of a jinx and that eating with me would bring her bad luck. In the past, my adoptive parents always humored her, and I just swallowed my pride. But I wasn’t going to hold back anymore. “I’m hungry, so of course I’m going to eat. What, when you’re hungry, do you go eat shit? No wonder your breath stinks.” Chloe’s eyes widened even further. Glare all you want, I thought. See if your eyeballs pop out. I continued shoving the delicious, fragrant ribs into my mouth. So good. Having just walked through the gates of hell, I was feeling a lot bolder. If I wasn’t even afraid of dying, why should I be afraid of Chloe? 4. Chloe was furious. She opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted by my adoptive father. “Maya, even if you didn’t do well, you shouldn’t take it out on your sister.” “I spent three thousand dollars to enroll you in a new tutoring center. As long as you try hard, I don’t mind spending the money.” I kept my head down and kept eating, not saying a word. On the surface, he was doing it for my own good, but deep down, he knew exactly who he was doing it for. But his words were like adding fuel to the fire for Chloe. What she hated most was how much “effort” and money my adoptive parents spent on me. If we had been at school, she would have shoved me into the trash cans by now. Ignoring Chloe’s venomous glare, I took another bite of rice and said flatly, “I’m not going.” But my adoptive father was just informing me. My unusual behavior today had exhausted his patience. “You have to go. Also, there’s a physics competition this weekend. You’re entering it with Chloe.” Ever since we were little, whatever Chloe did, I had to do too. If she took dance classes, I had to take them too. If she entered a singing competition, I had to enter too. Even for the smallest, most insignificant competitions, I had to tag along. The only difference was that she always took first place, and I was always dead last. “Dad! Why are you making this loser go again?” “I’m not going.” Chloe and I spoke at the exact same time. 5. Chloe turned her head and glared at me viciously. “A loser like you going is just a waste of a spot.” I suddenly realized that Chloe probably didn’t know about the luck-stealing scheme. Otherwise, she would be forcing me to enter the competition. In her mind, all her good grades were purely due to her own brilliance, and had absolutely nothing to do with me. She just genuinely hated me. She saw me as a jinx who brought bad luck and stole her parents’ affection. She felt fully entitled to her smooth, successful life and treated me as her personal punching bag. But Chloe, everything you have was originally mine. You stole it all from me. I sneered, put down my bowl and chopsticks, and got up to leave. As I was walking up the stairs, I heard my adoptive mother’s voice. “Chloe, Mom told you before, even recycled cardboard can be sold for cash. A loser obviously has her uses too.” I looked back and met Chloe’s gaze. She smiled arrogantly, looking incredibly smug. I smiled too. Because the number on the [Slacker Progress Bar] had just jumped to 7%. We have plenty of time. Let’s see who has the last laugh. 6. On the day of the physics competition, my adoptive father drove Chloe and me to the testing center. He instructed Chloe: “Just focus on the exam. After you’re done, Dad will reward you with a new Macbook.” Then he turned to me with a meaningful look: “Maya, do your best.” I smiled: “Okay.” Chloe scoffed disdainfully: “Doing her best won’t help. She’s destined to be dead last.” I watched my adoptive father’s car drive away, then turned and walked in the opposite direction of the testing center. Chloe grabbed my arm: “Where are you going?” She looked at me suspiciously: “You’re not planning on skipping the exam, are you?” I shook off her hand: “Yep.” Chloe: “…” I smiled: “I hope you get a great score.” Chloe’s face turned black as coal. She looked at me like I was an idiot. “Maya, are you sick in the head?” “If I am, do you have the cure? If not, shut the hell up.” I turned and walked away, leaving Chloe cursing at me from behind. I wanted to see if Chloe could still get good grades without me there to siphon luck from. 7. I spent the whole morning wandering around the park, feeding stray cats while watching my slacker value rise to 18%. Not bad, not bad. Breaking free from the Vance family’s control is just around the corner. I hummed a tune as I walked into the school. The moment I reached my desk, my mood plummeted. My desk was covered in scribbles: Loser, Coward, Parasite… Next to the colorful writing was a crudely drawn turtle. I pulled some tissues out of my backpack and tried to wipe it off, but the marker wouldn’t budge. My desk mate watched me and suddenly said, “Stop wiping. Isn’t what’s written there pretty accurate?” I glanced at her: “Chloe told you to write this, didn’t she?” She admitted it readily: “Yeah, so what? You…” “Nothing.” I smiled at her, and while she looked completely confused, I flipped her desk over! The lid on her water bottle was open, and water spilled all over the floor. “Ah!” The loud crash of the desk hitting the floor, mixed with my desk mate’s scream, instantly drew the attention of the entire class. Our homeroom teacher, Mr. Harris, had just walked in and was startled. “What is going on here?” he asked, frowning as he walked over. I spoke before my desk mate could: “I want to change seats.” Mr. Harris’s frown deepened until it looked like it could crush a fly. “You are always causing trouble. Your grades are terrible, and you’re always getting into conflicts with your classmates. Tell me, who would even want to sit next to you?” Mr. Harris spoke loudly, but no one in the class made a sound. It was true. Who would want to sit next to a loser who brought bad luck? Besides, who would dare risk offending Chloe, who had great grades and a wealthy family, just for me? 8. My desk mate’s eyes were full of schadenfreude. She was probably already plotting how to make my life miserable later. I had to change seats. I simply picked up my desk and moved it to the very back row. If no one wanted to sit with me, I’d just sit by myself. But Mr. Harris looked at me strangely: “You want to sit next to Julian?” Before I could answer, the whole class erupted. “Maya wants to sit next to the school delinquent?” “Is she crazy? Julian never lets anyone sit next to him. I heard the last guy who tried was bullied into transferring schools.” Julian, the school delinquent, was notorious for his explosive temper and for being someone you did not want to mess with. He was always late, always leaving early, and his grades were at the very bottom. Rumor had it he put a classmate in the hospital, but his family paid to cover it up. The teachers were afraid to discipline him, and the students were even more terrified of him. The back row was very empty. The delinquent’s desk sat isolated in a large, open space. Uh, even though I wanted to be a slacker, I didn’t want a death wish. Just as I was about to say never mind, the back door creaked open. I turned my head and saw Julian walking in. 9. Julian’s arrival pushed the tension to a boiling point. I watched helplessly as he walked into the classroom and glanced at me when he reached his desk. Everyone’s eyes darted between the two of us. I even heard someone whisper, “Is Julian going to kick Maya across the room?” My desk was still a foot away from his. I shouldn’t… get kicked across the room, right? But to my surprise, Julian just sat down with a cold expression and didn’t say a single word. At first, I was pretty nervous, terrified that the delinquent would get annoyed and turn into Chloe 2.0. But later I noticed he just slept during class. Occasionally, he’d pull out an advanced physics textbook and scribble in it. I finally relaxed. It seemed the delinquent was actually quite reasonable. I felt bad for even comparing him to Chloe; that was an insult to him. While I was lost in thought, Mr. Harris called on me: “Maya, pay attention in class. Your grades are already terrible. Aren’t you embarrassed if you don’t even try?” The class erupted in laughter. In their eyes, I was probably just a worthless loser who had completely given up. But this was exactly what I wanted. 10. That afternoon after school, I watched Chloe get into the family’s Maybach and drive off. Of course, that was Chloe’s “private car,” and I wasn’t allowed to ride in it. According to my adoptive parents’ schedule, I should be heading to the fifth tutoring center I was newly enrolled in, finishing up around 11:00 PM, and then walking home. I’d be working harder than a rented mule. I rolled my eyes and walked straight into a Korean BBQ place I had been craving for a long time but never had the chance to try. The BBQ was delicious, and my slacker value kept rising, eventually stopping at 28%. Today’s achievements were quite remarkable. I felt pretty good about myself. But my good mood came to a screeching halt the moment I walked through the front door. My adoptive parents were sitting on the sofa, waiting for me, and they didn’t look happy. Sigh, this family is really a buzzkill. 11. I wiped the smile off my face and put on my usual submissive expression. Then I ignored them and headed straight for the stairs. That’s when my adoptive mother spoke up: “Maya, come here. We need to talk.” I didn’t move. I just asked what they wanted. My adoptive father frowned, clearly dissatisfied with my rebellious behavior. “Maya, you’ve been making a lot of mistakes lately. First, you talked back to your sister, and now you’re not listening to your parents either. I used to think you were a good kid. Even though your grades weren’t great, you worked hard. Why is your character getting worse and worse?” He then listed my “crimes” one by one, including but not limited to talking back to the homeroom teacher, changing seats without permission, sitting next to the worst student in the grade, and skipping tutoring. Blah, blah, blah. He delivered his final verdict: “Maya, you need to reflect on your actions. Write a ten-thousand-word apology letter.” I raised an eyebrow slightly: “Really? Chloe is the one who needs to write an apology letter. She struts around school acting like a tyrant…” My adoptive father yelled: “She is your sister!” “Not by blood.” I added calmly: “And neither are you.” “Chloe called me a parasite, but I think there are three vampires living in this house.” My adoptive parents looked shocked and uneasy, clearly guilty. I snorted and turned around to see Chloe standing on the stairs in an evening gown. Ugh, so annoying. I just glanced at her, and Chloe immediately started showing off: “Mom had this dress custom-made for me. Jealous?” “I’m performing a solo dance at the school anniversary gala. Liam, the most popular guy in school, is playing the piano for me. And the principal is going to publicly commend me for getting first place in the physics competition.” Chloe smiled smugly and arrogantly: “A loser like you will probably never have a chance like this in your next life.” 12. It was clear the Vance family was taking this opportunity very seriously. They even had a high-end designer gown made and hired a photographer to follow her around, determined to steal the spotlight. On stage, Liam played the piano, and Chloe performed her solo dance under the spotlight. I heard a classmate next to me whisper in admiration: “Liam and Chloe look so good together! Both gorgeous and both top students…” In the audience, my adoptive parents were accepting compliments from other parents, smiling so wide they looked like blooming flowers. “Your daughter is truly outstanding. Not only is she beautiful, but she’s also incredibly talented. I heard she even got first place in the physics competition?” My adoptive mother’s eyes crinkled so much you could barely see them: “Oh, well, they haven’t announced the results yet, but I’m sure she got first…” The Dean of Students chimed in, kissing up to them: “Chloe is an exceptional student. She’ll definitely take first place.” I looked at Chloe on stage and felt sick to my stomach. Two years ago, Chloe and I both made it to the final four in a dance competition. But the day before the finals, she pushed me down a flight of stairs. As a result, I broke my leg, and Chloe took third place. Afterward, my adoptive parents just brushed it off, saying Chloe didn’t do it on purpose and telling me to be the bigger person. Just like they clearly knew Chloe bullied me at school but chose to turn a blind eye. 13. After the performances came the awards ceremony. The Vice Principal walked onto the stage to read the list of commended students. Chloe’s name wasn’t there. I sneered inwardly as a murmur spread through the students. A parent nearby asked in surprise: “Why isn’t Chloe’s name on the list?” My adoptive parents, who had been holding their heads high with pride, suddenly looked very uncomfortable. My adoptive father frowned and asked: “Did they accidentally skip her name?” The Vice Principal might be old and have bad eyesight, but his hearing was perfectly fine. And, he was quite petty. He glanced at my adoptive father, read the list again with a straight face, and then shook the paper, as if saying, See? It’s really not here. The gesture was so comical I actually laughed out loud. That laugh was like adding fuel to the fire for my adoptive father. He snapped at the sweating Dean of Students: “I suspect foul play. There is no way Chloe isn’t on that list.” But the Vice Principal was even more blunt: “Well, she isn’t! Chloe scored dead last!” As soon as he said that, the entire auditorium erupted. 14. The Vice Principal was truly furious. Our school ranked among the top two in the state, and we had never had such a terrible score in a competition before. The Dean of Students invited my adoptive parents backstage, and they angrily called me to come with them. When we went in, Chloe was crying and hugging Liam. When she saw me walk in, she hugged him even tighter, looking like she wanted to be glued to him. The Dean of Students coughed awkwardly, and Liam pushed Chloe away. My adoptive parents, however, acted as if they didn’t even notice their daughter hugging a boy. Right now, they only cared about the competition results. “Mr. Zhang, what exactly is going on here?” The Dean’s expression grew even more awkward: “Um… Chloe’s name really isn’t on the list… there was no mistake. They double-checked the exams when the scores came out. There’s definitely no issue…” My adoptive father raised his voice: “Mr. Zhang, you have to give us a reasonable explanation. Chloe has always been in the top three of her class. It’s impossible for her to score that poorly, unless…” He paused and turned his gaze to me. “Maya, you went and took the physics competition exam, didn’t you?” I met his gaze and heard Chloe’s shrill voice. “She didn’t! Dad, she didn’t go. She must have sabotaged me!” My adoptive father ignored her, staring fixedly at me: “Maya, answer my question. Did you take the competition exam?” I took a deep breath and met his eyes. “No.” 15. A deathly silence fell over the backstage area. Liam and the Dean of Students were shocked by the word “Dad,” looking back and forth between me and the Vance family in astonishment. My adoptive parents’ faces turned a sickly green, while Chloe looked completely bewildered. After a long pause, my adoptive father finally spoke through gritted teeth: “Very well… Maya, you actually dare to rebel. It seems we’ve been too lenient with you.” “We raised you all this time, and you turn out to be an ungrateful wretch.” “Get on your knees and apologize!” I coldly watched his furious, humiliated display: “What did I do wrong?” “Was I wrong for not letting Chloe bully me? Or was I wrong for not letting you siphon my life away?” My adoptive father’s face flushed bright red with anger. Just as I thought he was going to hit me, a weak voice broke the silence: “Excuse me, sorry to interrupt…” We all looked over and saw a student peeking out from behind the curtain. He pointed at the piano and whispered: “Um, the microphone on the piano is still on…” 16. The fact that Chloe and I were sisters quickly spread throughout the entire school. The impact was no less than dropping a nuclear bomb. After all, who in the entire senior class didn’t know that Chloe hated me? Every time report cards came out, she would publicly humiliate me. She called me a loser, a jinx, saying anyone who got close to me would be cursed with bad luck, which led to me being isolated by the whole school. Now, Chloe was throwing a tantrum and refusing to come to school, so my adoptive parents got her a long-term medical leave. Without her there, the air at school felt fresher. And my slacker progress bar was almost halfway full. I was in a great mood, feeling like my life was looking up. What’s more, I had made my first friend— I poked Julian’s arm: “Hey, let me tutor you.” After becoming desk mates with Julian, I discovered that he wasn’t the ruthless delinquent the rumors made him out to be. He was clearly just a quiet, misanthropic teenager. Correction: a handsome, good-tempered, but quiet, misanthropic teenager. Julian looked up from his comic book, his expression complicated: “Are you joking?” I blinked. Was Julian looking down on me? As my slacker progress bar had been rising, my luck had improved significantly. At the very least, I didn’t suffer any sudden “illnesses” during exams and was able to comfortably finish my papers. My class ranking slowly climbed from past 400 to around 200. Although it wasn’t high, it was certainly better than Julian’s zero-point exams, right? “You always bring me breakfast. I have to repay you.” Julian looked a bit uncomfortable: “No need.” Julian was great in every way, except his misanthropy was too strong. I racked my brain for a bunch of reasons to persuade him when I suddenly heard someone calling my name. “Maya, Mr. Harris wants to see you in his office.” 17. As I walked to the office door, I heard my adoptive mother’s voice. “Mr. Zhang, I heard the results of this midterm exam are tied to college recommendation spots?” “Yes, Chloe’s past grades have been excellent. As long as she performs normally this time, getting a recommendation will definitely be no problem.” “Mr. Zhang, Chloe is always outstanding. I’m not worried about her.” My adoptive mother let out a long sigh and continued: “The main issue is Maya. She’s been very rebellious lately. She won’t listen to anything her father and I say, and she’s caused a lot of trouble for the school.” “Since the child is struggling, we hope you can keep an eye on her. This midterm exam is very important, and she absolutely must participate.” “Oh, you’re being too polite! It’s truly a parent’s heavy burden! I will definitely make sure Maya takes the midterm exam. I’ll personally watch her walk into the testing room.” I pushed the door open and walked in. My adoptive mother was shoving a gift bag into the Dean’s hands. Both of them froze when they saw me. I walked straight over and sat on the sofa: “It’s fine. Don’t mind me. Keep giving gifts, keep taking them.” The Dean’s face turned red and pale alternately, and he let out two awkward laughs. My adoptive mother put the gift bag under the desk: “What nonsense are you talking about?” Then she handed another gift bag to me: “I bought this for you.” My adoptive mother wasn’t good at trying to please me. Her smile was as stiff as a mannequin’s. I frowned and looked at her: “Stop smiling. You’re scaring me.” She immediately dropped her smile and shot a look at the Dean of Students. The Dean understood immediately. “Um, Maya, the teacher called you here to talk about your recent behavior. Let’s put the competition behind us. The teacher will just assume you were under too much pressure. The midterm is coming up, and you need to work hard.” The two of them went back and forth, but it boiled down to one thing: I had to take this midterm. “Got it.” I couldn’t be bothered to listen anymore and stood up. My adoptive mother’s eyes were full of expectation and calculation. I smiled slightly: “I will take the midterm.” If they wanted to use me to pave the way for Chloe’s future, they shouldn’t blame me for becoming the “stumbling block” on their path. 18. I don’t know how much my adoptive parents bribed the Dean of Students. On the day of the midterm, he watched me walk into the testing room and stood by the door for a good while, only leaving satisfied when he saw me start writing. During the six exams, he showed up six times, thoroughly confusing the proctor and making me a target of intense scrutiny. Let him watch. I was as calm as could be. He was standing too far away anyway. He couldn’t see that I was writing all the answers on scratch paper. … When I walked out of the school gates, I immediately saw Chloe and my adoptive parents. Chloe was holding a bouquet of flowers, surrounded by her lackeys, looking arrogant as if she had just won a war. My adoptive mother asked with a smile: “Chloe, how do you think you did this time?” Chloe looked smug: “I thought the questions were very easy. I’ll definitely take first place.” Her lackeys immediately hyped her up: “Chloe, you’re amazing! A lot of people said the questions were super hard this time.” “Yeah, Chloe is just too good.” They were making a lot of noise, bursting into laughter every now and then. The commotion attracted reporters who were interviewing students at the gate. They pointed their cameras at Chloe: “Excuse me, could we interview you?” Chloe proudly lifted her chin and said elegantly: “Sure.” “I heard you say the questions were easy this time. May I ask which school you’re from? How are your usual grades?” Chloe answered, and her lackeys chimed in, painting a glorious picture, basically hyping Chloe up like a goddess from heaven. My adoptive parents got in the shot too. When the reporter asked how they raised such an outstanding daughter, my adoptive father spoke with a proud tone: “Of course, it’s because our family has good genes. And Chloe is very hardworking. Talent plus hard work leads to success.” I watched in amazement. What a shameless family. Chloe noticed me standing in the crowd. Her smile froze for a second, but then she smiled even more arrogantly: “Some people are just born without the brains for studying, so they shouldn’t waste their effort. They’d be better off dropping out early and doing manual labor. At least they’d be contributing to society.”

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I transmigrated into this book just as the story was reaching its grand finale. I was standing at the altar with the male lead, Harrison Sterling, surrounded by the cheers and blessings of the elite. But after taking a single phone call, the color drained from Harrison’s face. He shoved me aside without a word and sprinted out of the church. Oh, if I remembered the timeline correctly, the female lead had probably just “attempted” suicide and was currently being rushed to the ER. 1 I had become the villainous “True Heiress” in a classic switched-at-birth melodrama. I was the biological daughter; the female lead was the one who took my place. Once the truth came out, I was brought back to the wealthy Vance family, and the female lead, Brianna, was supposedly cast out. Everything that once belonged to her—the doting parents, the handsome billionaire fiancé, the vast Vance fortune—all fell into my hands. Brianna went from a princess to a pauper overnight. The parents who raised her for eighteen years turned their backs; the brother who once spoiled her called her a “thief” who stole my life; her childhood sweetheart fiancé broke off their engagement immediately. Brianna spent the rest of the book trying to prove she wasn’t a gold-digger. She claimed she never wanted to fight me for anything. She just wanted “family.” She tried to work at the Vance Group to show her worth, but my father assumed she was trying to steal my inheritance and fired her. 她 gave me a gift to bridge the gap, but my brother Caleb thought she was trying to poison me and slapped her across the face. She even showed up at my wedding to Harrison to offer her “blessings,” only to be labeled a homewrecker by the guests and cyberbullied into oblivion. Finally, at the peak of my wedding, a broken Brianna chose to end it all. But her suicide was the catalyst for everyone else’s “awakening.” My parents suddenly remembered the eighteen years they spent raising her. Caleb remembered the sweet little girl who used to follow him around. Harrison remembered how hard she used to try to make him smile. Suddenly, everyone was drowning in regret. To make matters worse, Brianna’s “secret diary” was conveniently discovered after her death. It was filled with her love for the Vance family, her pining for Harrison, and her guilt toward me. She apologized to everyone, over and over, stating she never wanted the money—she just wanted to be loved. The guilt consumed them. They vowed to spend the rest of their lives making it up to her. After she recovered, she was welcomed back into the family with open arms. Harrison realized he truly loved her, and after a series of dramatic “pursuits,” they got their happily ever after. As for me, the “villainess,” I became so consumed by jealousy that I tried to run Brianna over with a car. In the end, she escaped without a scratch, and I was the one who died in the wreckage. 2 I entered the story right at the climax of the wedding. The priest was just getting to the good part: “Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer…” I looked at Harrison, then at the crowd, and calmly shook my head. “I don’t.” The silence that followed was deafening. Harrison leaned in, his voice a frantic whisper. “Natalie, what are you doing? Everyone is watching.” I glanced pointedly at his pocket, where his phone had been vibrating non-stop. “You have a call,” I said helpfully. Harrison pulled out his phone and looked at the screen. He recognized the number. His brow furrowed instinctively, and he moved to silence it. I reached out and stopped his hand. “Don’t hang up. You’ll regret it for the rest of your life if you do.” In the original plot, Brianna regretted her decision after cutting her wrists and hit the speed-dial for Harrison, begging him to save her. But Harrison, in the middle of his wedding, ignored the calls. Brianna nearly died because she missed that window for help. Those dozen missed calls became a major “angst point” in their future romance. But this time, I wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of a tragic misunderstanding. After all, saving a life is a noble deed. Seeing my persistence, Harrison answered. A second later, his face turned ghost-white. He shoved me back and bolted out of the chapel. The guests erupted. Confusion, shock, and a few smug smiles from my rivals hit me all at once. My parents and Caleb rushed to my side, their faces a mix of worry and rage. Before they could speak, I let the words spill out: “Mom, Dad… Harrison just got a call from Brianna. “I think I heard her say she… she did something to herself. She begged him to come save her.” My mother’s face went pale. You don’t just stop loving a child you raised for two decades. She swayed on her feet, her voice trembling. “She… she tried to kill herself? Where is she? Is she at a hospital?” Even my stoic father clenched his fists in visible distress. I forced a weak, pale smile. “I don’t know. The reception was bad…” “It doesn’t matter. Robert, find out where she is! I have to see her!” My mother stopped mid-sentence, looking at me with a sudden, guilty start. She realized her other daughter—her biological one—had just been abandoned at the altar because of Brianna, and was currently the laughingstock of the city. I did my best to look like I was holding it together. “Go,” I said softly. “It’s okay. You guys should go. I can handle things here. “Brianna might be in critical condition. If anything happens to her while you’re here…” I looked down, playing the martyr. “I understand. You lived together for twenty years. You can’t just flip a switch on those feelings.” In the original book, the original Natalie threw a massive tantrum, screaming and forbidding her parents from seeing Brianna. That only made her look like a monster and made her parents feel even more guilty toward the “victim.” This time, I was the one pushing them to go. As they left, they kept looking back at me with eyes full of sorrow and shame. “Caleb, you should go too,” I said, my voice cracking perfectly. Caleb shook his head. “There are enough people there already,” he said quietly. “I’ll stay here with you.” 3 In the original story, Brianna nearly died because Harrison arrived too late. This time, because he left the second she called, she barely had a scratch. The doctors bandaged her up, gave her some fluids, and told her she could go home. When my parents arrived at the hospital, they expected to see her on her deathbed. Instead, they found a perfectly healthy-looking Brianna sitting up in bed, chatting with Harrison. Aside from a few layers of gauze on her wrist, she looked exactly the same. And then they remembered: their biological daughter was currently standing in a deserted church because of this girl. Their sympathy took a sharp turn into irritation. “Dad! Mom!” Brianna’s eyes lit up, then she quickly lowered her head, looking like a kicked puppy. “Mr. Vance… Mrs. Vance…” “Right,” my mother said, her voice strained. “The doctor says you’re fine?” Brianna tucked her hand behind her back, whispering, “I’m okay. It was just a small cut. I’m so sorry I worried you…” “You should be,” my father snapped. “You’re an adult. Do you have any idea what the consequences of your actions are?” Brianna’s eyes filled with tears instantly. Her parents—the people who used to never raise their voice at her—were looking at her with coldness. Did blood matter that much? Did twenty years mean nothing? “I’m sorry,” she sobbed, head bowed. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble. I really didn’t. I just… I just…” “You didn’t mean it? You chose the day of Natalie and Harrison’s wedding?” my father interrupted. “You chose the exact moment they were saying their vows? “You have hundreds of contacts in your phone, and you didn’t call 911? You called the groom? “Even if you didn’t have a single friend to call, are you telling me you don’t know how to dial an emergency number?” Brianna stared at him, stunned. She realized he thought she had done it on purpose to ruin the wedding. But she hadn’t! She just… she was just panicked! She didn’t know what to do, so she called the person she trusted most! Was she really that low in their eyes now just because she wasn’t “biological”? Her heart felt like it was being squeezed. She wanted to scream, to cry, to beg for a hug, but she knew it would only make them hate her more. She swallowed her tears and bowed deeply. “I am so sorry. I was immature. I didn’t think it through. “I swear, I never meant to hurt Natalie. “Please tell her I’m sorry. And tell her…” Brianna took a shaky breath. “Tell her I’m leaving. I won’t ever show my face to any of you again. I won’t cause any more trouble. “Mr. and Mrs. Vance, thank you for everything. For all those years. “I’m sorry for the pain I caused. I wish you and Natalie all the best.” She turned and ran out of the hospital room before anyone could stop her. My mother watched her go, a flicker of pain crossing her face. Even my stern father went silent, stepping into the hallway to light a cigarette. 4 When they got home, the atmosphere was heavy. I was waiting for them with a gentle smile. After listening to them describe Brianna’s “miraculous” recovery, I sighed softly. “Dad, Mom… maybe we should just let Brianna move back in. “It’s just another set of silverware, after all.” They both looked at me in shock. My father was the first to shake his head. “No. She moved out. There’s no reason for her to come back. “Natalie, don’t overthink this. You are the only daughter of this family. “We made a mistake before, but now that it’s fixed, she doesn’t belong here.” I sighed again, looking deeply concerned. “I know you’re saying this for me. You don’t want me to feel insecure. “But I really don’t mind. “She was just a baby when the switch happened. She’s a victim too. I can’t blame her for what happened. “Besides, you raised her for twenty years. You can’t just delete that. “I see how much you’re hurting. You’re cold to her because you’re trying to protect my feelings, but I know it’s hard for you. “I don’t want you to be unhappy. Let her come home.” “Natalie… do you really mean that?” my mother asked, her voice cracking. “I do. More than anything.” I gave them my most “supportive daughter” smile. In a system like this, suppression only leads to rebellion. If I let them suppress their love for Brianna, it would only fester into resentment toward me. Better to bring it all into the light. Besides, Brianna always claimed she didn’t want the money—just the love. Fine. I’ll give her all the “love” she can handle. Let’s see if she’s really as pure and selfless as she claims to be. 5 For twenty years, Brianna was the jewel of the Vance family, a princess who never knew a day of hardship. Now that she was back, she acted like a frightened animal. She stood at the front door, clutching a battered suitcase, watching my face as if I were a judge about to pass sentence. She wouldn’t even step inside until I gave her a nod. I saw the flash of pain in my parents’ eyes. But because I was there, they didn’t say a word. Tsk. I really did look like the villain breaking up their happy little family. I love being the bad guy. I curled my lips into a smile and looked at her. “Come in. Why are you just standing there? It’s your home too. Don’t be so formal.” Brianna walked in, but her head stayed down. She wouldn’t look at me. The silence was awkward, so my mother spoke up. “Brianna, I had the staff get your room ready. It’s the one at the end of the hall on the second floor. “Go check it out. Let us know if you need anything.” Brianna looked overwhelmed, but she quickly shook her head. “It’s okay, Mrs. Vance… I… I can just stay in the maid’s quarters. I don’t deserve such a nice room.” I felt a headache coming on. Is “self-inflicted suffering” a mandatory skill for every tragic heroine? The Vance estate had dozens of empty rooms. Her staying in one changed nothing. Staying in the maid’s room served no purpose other than making herself miserable and making everyone else feel like shit. Oh, wait. It did serve a purpose. It made my parents feel sorry for her. I watched her standing there, all “poor me,” saying, “It’s fine, I can sleep anywhere.” I lost my patience. I grabbed her suitcase and marched it up to the second floor myself. “I said, make yourself at home,” I said coldly. “Food, clothes, whatever you need—just ask. Don’t play the martyr. The Vance family isn’t going bankrupt over a few extra expenses. You don’t need to suffer just for the sake of it.” Brianna stared at me, then lowered her head again. “Okay. Thank you, Natalie.” She scurried into her room like a startled quail. Watching her act like she was being bullied when no one had even touched her was exhausting. My mother approached me tentatively. “Natalie… are you upset? “If you don’t want her here, we can find her an apartment.” I shook my head and smiled. “Mom, don’t say that. “She just got back. If you kick her out again, her heart will break. “I’m not upset. Don’t worry about me.” “You’re such a good girl,” my mother said, taking my hand. “I do care about Brianna, I won’t lie. “But no matter what, you are my biological daughter. I will always stand by you. “If she ever makes you uncomfortable, tell me. I’ll send her away immediately. “You don’t have to sacrifice your happiness for anyone. “You’re too mature for your own good, hiding everything inside. It breaks my heart.” Looking at the genuine love in her eyes, I felt a spark of warmth. I gave her my first real smile since arriving in this world. “I know, Mom. I won’t be a doormat. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine.” 6 To be fair, I didn’t actually hate Brianna. In the original book, Brianna was pure, kind, and innocent. She left the family the moment she found out the truth and never once attacked Natalie. It was Natalie who was consumed by spite and ended up destroying herself. Brianna simply “inherited” Natalie’s life because she was better at being loved. The parents loved her—well, they had twenty years of history. Caleb loved her—he’d watched her grow up. Harrison loved her—he just “discovered” it. Everyone was just following their hearts. Natalie was just “evil” by nature. But who made her that way? If she hadn’t been raised by abusive, poverty-stricken strangers while someone else lived her life, she wouldn’t have been so bitter. She could have been the “pure white lily” too. I wasn’t here to play social justice warrior for the original Natalie. I was just curious. If I put this pure white lily in actual mud, would she stay white? You want family? You want love? Fine. I’ll give you all the love in the world. But the Vance fortune, the status, the career, the legacy… You aren’t touching any of it. I hope your “pure heart” is enough to pay the bills when the reality of being a “supporting character” sets in. 7 “The engagement is off.” I sat across from Harrison Sterling in a quiet café. His handsome face darkened, his jaw tightening. “About the wedding… I can explain.” “Don’t bother. It’s not about that.” “I just don’t think we’re a good fit,” I said simply. Harrison let out a cold laugh. “Are you really going to pull this now?” “No one is pulling anything,” I said calmly. “Let’s just give each other some dignity and end it cleanly.” Harrison narrowed his eyes, searching my face. I met his gaze without flinching. He was the first to blink. “Fine. I messed up by leaving the altar. I apologized. “But our marriage is a merger between the Sterlings and the Vances. “You should talk to your parents before you make such a reckless decision.” “If you think you can use my parents to pressure me, you’re mistaken. We already talked. “They agree with me. And as for our business dealings, we’ll be re-evaluating those too. “Since you’re so focused on this being a business arrangement, let’s talk business. “Trust is the foundation of any partnership. “A man who abandons his partner in the middle of a high-stakes event isn’t someone I want to do business with. “Your character is… questionable, Harrison.” I didn’t give him an inch. Harrison looked like he wanted to scream, but he forced a sneer instead. “Has anyone ever told you that aggressive women aren’t very attractive to men?” “And men who judge women based on their ‘attractiveness’ aren’t very useful in the boardroom.” I was done with this “Alpha Male” posturing. But I had one question. “Since you chose to leave our wedding to save Brianna… “It’s clear you have feelings for her. Why don’t you just be with her?” In the original plot, Harrison should have realized his love for Brianna the moment she bled. He should have called off the wedding himself. But lately, there hadn’t been a single spark between them. Harrison looked uncomfortable. “Brianna and I… it’s just a sibling thing. “She’s too immature. I need a partner who can stand beside me in business, not a child I have to babysit. “Besides, she isn’t a Vance anymore. My family would never allow me to marry someone with no assets.” Wow. I had never heard anyone admit to being a gold-digger with such pride. I wondered how “epic” their romance in the original book really was. If he loved her so much, why did he drop her the second she lost her status? Why did he wait until Natalie was “dead” and Brianna was the “sole heir” to start his “pursuit”? Maybe his “belated love” was just an interest in the 100% inheritance she’d just received. I felt a wave of nausea. I was done playing this game. “Mr. Sterling, I’m not asking for your permission today. I’m giving you notice. “The engagement is over. Let’s not make this uglier than it already is.” I stood up and walked away, ignoring his furious expression. I didn’t know what Brianna saw in him. Two parasites in love. Boring. I pulled out my phone and called Caleb. “Hey, Caleb? Yeah, it’s done. Don’t worry. “Is the paperwork ready at the office? “Great. Thanks, big brother.” With my executive onboarding finally set, I allowed myself a real smile.

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