Category: English

1. I never dreamed my husband, the man whose hands sweat just driving a car, could ever do such a thing. The day my sister Diana was kidnapped, he transformed. His usual timid demeanor vanished into frantic urgency. He only said, “Wait at home,” and rushed off. I thought he was calling the police. Then I saw the news: police surrounding an abandoned factory, and a man driving an SUV straight through the gates. The camera zoomed in. It was clearly my husband, Matthew. The report praised a retired special forces hero who rescued the hostages. Diana was safe. But watching it, I laughed a bitter laugh. “You said driving made your hands shake,” I challenged him. “When our daughter had a 104‑degree fever, you refused to drive her to the hospital, afraid of an accident. Back then we had no money for her treatment. Now you crash a car with fifty thousand dollars to save someone else. What a hero.” Matthew stood speechless, stammering. Then Diana, leaning weakly against him, explained, “Don’t blame him, Tiffany. Years ago, he accidentally hurt me in a car accident. After that, he promised he would only ever drive for me.” “Sis, you really shouldn’t misunderstand him.” … Inside the hospital room, Matthew grabbed my arm, wanting to speak to me outside. “Say it right here!” I fiercely shook off Matthew’s hand, demanding an explanation. Matthew sighed. “Don’t misunderstand, I just… I was afraid you’d become too dependent on me if you knew I was a retired special forces operative.” “I wasn’t exactly hiding it, either. Why didn’t you ask me?” “Besides, what difference would it make if you knew? What could it change?” Mom and Dad carefully adjusted Diana’s blankets. Dad lowered his voice. “Your sister just fell asleep. Matthew’s right. Why didn’t you ask?” “Matthew wasn’t hiding anything from anyone. If you want to blame someone, blame yourself for not asking, for not caring about your own husband. Who are you blaming now?” I looked at my uncomprehending parents, a bitter taste rising in my throat. Hadn’t I cared enough about Matthew? Matthew and I had been married for six years. Matthew said he’d experienced a major earthquake while volunteering and suffered from PTSD. He was timid and easily scared, afraid to drive, afraid to go out at night, afraid to argue with anyone. He even feared going to crowded places to buy groceries. I supported him for six years. I worked three jobs a day, saving money to find Matthew the best therapist. I became a fierce lioness, holding our household together. When Matthew got into a fight and was taken to the precinct, I, heavily pregnant, knelt before the other party, begging for their understanding. Because of an outsider’s comment that Matthew was a kept man, I, fearing he’d overthink it, took all our savings to open a business for him. Even when the business failed completely, leaving us in debt, I didn’t say a word. Our daughter was frail, getting a fever every change of season. That night, her temperature soared to 104 degrees, but Matthew’s hands trembled on the steering wheel. His PTSD was acting up, preventing him from driving. This was despite the fact that he had just driven for his nephew’s parent-teacher conference that very afternoon. I gritted my teeth, scooped up our daughter, and rushed to the hospital. But it was too late. Our daughter ended up in the ICU. Matthew’s eyes turned red with anger. He frowned deeply, then spoke through gritted teeth. “You’re so ungrateful. I saved your sister. Why are you so mad?” “Can’t I be mad?” “I sold our house to pay for our daughter’s medical bills, and you just conjure up fifty thousand dollars as a down payment?” “You had money, but you wouldn’t use it to treat our daughter. You took our marital assets and spent them on another woman. You pair of cheating dogs!” My words grew uglier and uglier, fueled by the thought of our daughter, lying alone in her hospital room. My accusations silenced Mom and Dad. Furious, Dad kicked me in the chest. For a moment, I felt a coppery taste well up in my throat. “What cheating dogs? That’s your sister!” “If you want to blame someone, blame us! Do you expect me to give you an IOU?” “That money belongs to Matthew. What does it have to do with you?” “Are you trying to disown us? You ungrateful daughter!” “If you’re so unhappy, then get a divorce!” A chill spread through my heart. “Divorce!” 2 Agreement: The Bitter Truth Matthew no longer bothered to keep up the pretense. He parked his SUV casually downstairs, one hand on the steering wheel, the other flicking his burning cigarette out the window to extinguish it between his thumb and forefinger. Matthew handed me a folder, instructing me to sign. “Diana was afraid you’d misunderstand and want a divorce, so she insisted I explain everything clearly.” I looked through the marital property agreement he handed me. Only then did I realize that my good-for-nothing husband was actually the big boss of an international security company, with countless properties and assets to his name. “Honey, don’t make a fuss. Our daughter has her own trust fund. She can access it after she turns eighteen. As long as she doesn’t elope with a man at eighteen like you did, I guarantee she’ll be financially secure for life!” My fingertips, gripping the document, turned white. “I eloped at eighteen? Matthew, how shameless are you? I followed you when I was eighteen. You’re saying I eloped at eighteen!” “You’re the shameless one, running off with me at eighteen!” Matthew slammed his hand against the steering wheel. He paused, a flicker in his eyes, avoiding my gaze. “That’s not what I meant, don’t misunderstand!” My teeth ground together, and I spoke each word distinctly. “I’m not misunderstanding. I wasn’t joking about the divorce. And my daughter doesn’t need your trust fund.” “Let’s get a divorce!” Matthew clicked his tongue impatiently. “Why do you have to get a divorce? Yes, I kept it from you, but why didn’t you ask me?” “Our daughter has cerebral palsy. She can’t take over my company!” “My assets will still go to your family, won’t they? They’ll go to your sister’s child!” Matthew told me to be content. He said that not finding another woman to have children with was already a testament to his love for me. He said it was better to leave the company to my sister’s child than to someone else. “You and our daughter will still have someone to depend on later, right?” After Matthew finished speaking, he seemed to be waiting for me to be utterly grateful to him. I refused to sign and didn’t want to communicate with him anymore. I simply told him to wait for the court summons. When I went to pick up our daughter, I found Diana and my nephew, Peter, there. Diana was six years older than me, but simply by appearance, an outsider would easily mistake me for the older sister. The dark green silk scarf she used to carry her Hermes bag was one I had always wanted but never bought. I noticed the charm on Peter’s backpack. It was a character from our daughter’s favorite cartoon. When my daughter tugged at it a couple of times, Peter angrily stomped on the charm. “I broke it, and you still won’t get it. I’ll just have Uncle Matthew buy me another one!” Diana offered an apologetic smile, but the look in her eyes felt like a challenge. “Matthew specially took Peter abroad to buy this birthday gift!” Diana was there specifically to explain things to me. “Lily, Matthew rescued me because I’m a manager at his security company. I handle many important projects. I can’t afford to have anything happen to me!” “I’m not like a housewife such as yourself! I can help Matthew with his career!” “Matthew never hid anything from you. Both Mom and Dad and I knew what Matthew did. You’re the only one who didn’t know. Why didn’t you ever care about your husband?” “He’s a hero!” “Matthew said he just didn’t want you and your daughter to rely on him too much!” Listening to Diana, I felt my heart clench, a searing pain gripping me. Matthew didn’t want my daughter and me to rely on him. He pretended to be poor, deceiving me, making me live like a madwoman for six years. “Get out!” “Get as far away from me as possible!” Before I could finish speaking, I heard Peter place my daughter’s food bowl on the floor. He used a string to pull at her neck. My daughter choked and coughed, two distinct white marks appearing on her throat. He wanted her to eat like a dog on the floor. “Puppy, come eat!” “What are you doing?!” In a panic, I pushed Peter, and he cried, scared by my intensity. Mom embraced Peter, comforting him. Dad said I was making a big deal out of nothing, targeting Peter, targeting Diana. My eyes burned with anger. Matthew had appeared at the doorway at some point. Diana noticed Matthew’s displeasure. My daughter, seeing her father, instinctively reached out her small hands. “It’s all my fault, all my fault. I didn’t raise Peter well, and Peter doesn’t have a dad to teach him!” “Peter, apologize to Uncle Matthew quickly!” Diana, her eyes red, apologized to Matthew. Matthew told me to let bygones be bygones. 3 Favoritism: Sisters at Odds I filed for divorce in court and moved with my daughter into a small, dilapidated apartment. I had already consulted with a lawyer. Since our daughter was under three, custody would naturally go to me. I scrolled through Diana’s social media. Photos showed Diana and Matthew standing side by side, Mom and Dad on the sofa, holding Peter. It looked just like a young couple bringing their child to visit the grandparents. A relative commented, “Matthew is so filial, buying so many things again.” “Doesn’t your sister ever visit your parents?” Diana replied, “No, Tiffany is very busy. She has to take her child for physical therapy every week!” “Filial or not, there are always excuses. Luckily, she married a good man! If it weren’t for the elopement causing such a scandal, he would have been your husband.” “But either way, he’s still family.” Diana’s social media was no longer set to a three-day viewing limit. I scrolled through her posts, seeing snapshots of Matthew’s life over the past six years. As a son-in-law, Matthew was absolutely exemplary: celebrating birthdays with Mom and Dad, bringing gifts and transferring money for holidays. As a husband and father, he patiently tutored children, attended parent-teacher conferences, and stayed up all night with his wife when she needed an IV drip. But that woman wasn’t me. The people Matthew was filial to weren’t my parents. I tightly hugged my daughter, tears streaming down my face. Just after I commented on that post, Matthew’s call came through. I took a deep breath, pressed the answer button, and deliberately let my voice sound husky from crying. “Hello?” “Lily? What’s the meaning of your comment? Diana is crying.” Matthew’s voice carried suppressed anger. “I’ve already explained everything to you clearly. How can your mind be so twisted?” “Are you implying Diana and I are having an affair?” “I’ve set up a trust fund for our daughter, and I’ll transfer money to you every month for household expenses. What more are you dissatisfied with?” “You’re a housewife, so don’t meddle in company affairs.” “Delete that comment.” I scoffed internally, but on the surface, I feigned distress and panic. “I didn’t. You were the one who hid marital assets first. Diana is draped in gold and silver, while I have to borrow money just to buy a bowl of noodles.” “You don’t even allow me to vent my emotions?” As I spoke, I quietly pressed the record button. I had just discovered when making a payment today that all my bank cards and payment accounts were frozen. Silence stretched for a few seconds on the other end. After a while, Matthew sighed. “Freezing your accounts was meant to make you calm down, to realize what hardships you’d face without me.” “Your accounts will be unfrozen in a while. Think it over and come back.” “From now on, I’ll be your support.” Before hanging up, Matthew made me a promise. I found it utterly ridiculous. I hadn’t relied on him since we got married. Matthew didn’t spare a thought for how my daughter and I would live while my accounts were frozen. He didn’t offer to bring us back either. I knew he was taking Mom, Dad, Diana, and Peter on an overseas trip soon. Even if Mom and Dad weren’t my biological parents anymore, my daughter and I couldn’t stand in the way of his filial piety.

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1. I used to have a knack for playing Cupid for everyone around me. Looking back, that was the start of my nightmare. I remember introducing my best friend to my brother, and my roommate to my cousin. Who would’ve thought my best friend would betray my brother on their wedding day? The whole thing sent my mom to the hospital with a heart attack, and my brother became the laughingstock of the entire family. What was worse, my brother didn’t just lose face; his vengeful ex-wife ruined his career after the divorce. In despair, he jumped into a river, ending his life. As for my roommate, my cousin swindled her out of all her dowry and wedding gifts after they married. She was even subjected to domestic abuse when she got pregnant. She blamed me for introducing them, convinced I had ruined her life. One day, she stormed into my house, stabbed me to death, and then took her own life right there. Two marriages, three tragic deaths. My heart was heavy with regret. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day I introduced my best friend to a potential partner. This time, with a trembling hand, I suggested my cousin instead. … The moment I sent the recommendation, a voice message from my best friend, Cheryl, popped up: “Is this your cousin? He looks pretty decent in his profile. Tell him to take us out for dinner.” In my previous life, I had foolishly asked my own brother to treat her. Cheryl, of course, showed up with a bunch of colleagues and insisted on a high-end sushi place, running up a bill of five or six hundred dollars for my brother. Thinking of my cheapskate cousin, Lance, I couldn’t help but chuckle. That evening, at the sushi restaurant, Cheryl indeed brought a few colleagues. As Lance and I walked in, his brow furrowed, and he muttered to me, “Your friend really knows how to spend, huh? Sushi? What’s wrong with the diner next door?” I snickered internally, but outwardly I soothed him, “First impressions, you know? You have to show a girl you’re serious.” Lance clamped his mouth shut. Cheryl saw us and quickly said, “I brought a few colleagues. You guys don’t mind, do you?” To my surprise, Lance was remarkably generous. “Not at all. We’re not that petty.” I was a bit taken aback. Lance and Cheryl seemed to hit it off, laughing together several times during dinner. Midway through, I went to the restroom. Cheryl followed me in and whispered, “Your cousin isn’t as much of a bumpkin as you made him out to be. Get ready to call me sis-in-law!” I could only offer an awkward smile. I thought Lance had genuinely turned over a new leaf. He even rushed to pay the bill. But after settling it, he declared, perfectly straight-faced, “Total bill was six hundred and twenty bucks. Just venmo me a hundred and three dollars and forty cents each.” 2. Cheryl’s colleagues mumbled, “I thought he was treating. If I’d known it was this expensive, I would’ve gone next door.” “Seriously. Why pretend to be generous if you’re not going to pay?” Cheryl’s face darkened, and she shot me a furious glare. “Didn’t you say your cousin had money? He can’t even spring for one meal?” I could only offer a sheepish grin. “Maybe the sushi was just too pricey. If it was the diner, he probably would have.” Lance acted as if he hadn’t heard a thing, urging Cheryl to pay. “I barely ate anything just now. Technically, I shouldn’t even be splitting it. You guys aren’t thinking of skipping out on the bill, are you? And you, Tiffany, even if you’re my cousin, close family still settles their debts. You need to pay up too.” So, I paid my share. Back home, Cheryl was fuming, swearing she’d block Lance. I was secretly thrilled. Who would’ve thought that two days later, they’d be an item? I asked Cheryl what made her change her mind so suddenly. She beamed. “You wouldn’t believe it. After that night, he not only paid me back my share but also transferred back everyone else’s money.” “He said our money shouldn’t benefit outsiders.” I paused for a moment before asking, “Don’t you think my cousin is a bit cheap?” Cheryl rolled her eyes. “Your cousin makes a fortune. He’s not short on cash. He was just testing me.” My mind drifted back to my honest, straightforward brother. In my previous life, he had paid the bill without a fuss, only to be called unromantic and stingy by Cheryl, who complained he should have sent her roses after dinner. After they got together, Cheryl took his debit card and became a stay-at-home girlfriend, buying luxury bags and clothes non-stop. She even took a sixty thousand dollar dowry when they married. But on their wedding day, she was caught cheating with the male photographer in the dressing room. My brother wanted a divorce, but she managed to take a large chunk of his assets, and her antics even cost him his job. Meanwhile, my jobless cousin ended up marrying my kind and hardworking roommate. After marriage, my roommate had to work and take care of my cousin and my demanding aunt. Even then, my cousin wasn’t satisfied. He disparaged her for her humble background and even physically abused her when she was pregnant. My roommate was beaten to the point of miscarriage but couldn’t get a divorce. From then on, she harbored a deep hatred for my cousin and me. But she couldn’t fight my cousin, so she sought revenge on me, even taking me with her in death. Just then, a knock echoed on my bedroom door. I opened it to find my roommate, Serena, her eyes red and swollen from crying. I quickly asked her what was wrong. Serena said, a little embarrassed, “My parents are rushing me to go home and get married, but I don’t want to. Once you get married back home, you can’t leave the boonies.” “Tiffany, do you know anyone suitable? Could you introduce me to someone?” 3. I was about to refuse, but looking at her tear-filled eyes, I couldn’t bring myself to say no. I had wronged her in my previous life. I thought my cousin was just lazy, not a scheming jerk. Just then, my phone rang. It was my brother, Tony. “Mom said I should pick you up for dinner. When are you coming down?” My eyes lit up. I took Serena’s hand and said, “I actually know just the right person. My brother. Do you want to meet him?” Serena nodded, and I quickly told Tony, “Don’t go home yet. I’m introducing you to a friend. Let’s all have dinner together.” Tony wasn’t sure what we liked, so he booked a table at a high-end seafood buffet nearby. In the car, Serena hesitated, whispering, “Will it be too expensive? I’m almost out of money this month.” I gave her a reassuring look. “My brother’s treating. We don’t need to pay a thing.” During dinner, Tony was a quiet guy. All he did was peel shrimp and crack crabs for us. He wasn’t much for conversation. Serena was a bit shy at first, but gradually relaxed, and the atmosphere was decent enough. Later, they exchanged numbers. Serena tried to venmo Tony for the buffet, but he refused. Tony secretly asked me, “Did your roommate not like me? Why would she try to pay me? Was there something I did wrong?” I could only advise him not to take her money and suggest Serena treat him next time. After going out a few more times, they officially started dating. Cheryl’s relationship with Lance was progressing even faster. Soon, it was time to meet the parents and discuss marriage. I thought about it and decided to be honest with Cheryl. “Lance isn’t my biological cousin. He’s my cousin on my mom’s side, and he doesn’t even have a job. Are you sure you want to marry him?” To my surprise, Cheryl already knew. “He told me all about it. He’s in business, makes a few hundred thousand a year. Way better than your actual brother, the programmer who could lose his job anytime.” I almost laughed. “You actually believe that? How is he better than my brother?” Cheryl’s tone grew cold. “Are you just jealous of my happiness? You’d be happy if I ended up with your brother, wouldn’t you?” I quickly shut my mouth, terrified she might actually fall for Tony. Serena’s family was pressuring her to settle down, so after discussing it, she and Tony decided to get engaged too. Serena put a lot of thought into the gifts she brought to our house, even knitting a scarf for me. My parents were overjoyed, doubling their initial engagement gift from a thousand to six thousand. I remembered my previous life. Cheryl’s first visit to our house. She wore designer clothes but only brought a case of fruit. She claimed she didn’t want us to look down on her. Even then, my parents had treated her with such warmth, let alone a considerate girl like Serena. Cheryl, on the other hand, had a mishap the moment she met Lance’s family. She called me, crying, “Your aunt and uncle actually made me wash dishes!” 4. I quickly tried to comfort her. “That’s terrible. If it’s too much, just break up.” But Cheryl suddenly calmed down. “Lance said it’s his mom’s test. After we get married, there’ll naturally be someone to do the dishes.” “Tiffany, stop trying to make me break up with him. Do you think I don’t deserve to marry your cousin?” “Lance told me you originally wanted to introduce me to your brother, that IT guy, didn’t you? Everyone knows IT guys are out of a job by thirty-five. You think I’m going to marry a charity case?” I decided to just keep quiet, offering my best wishes. After the engagement was settled, my parents prepared a sixty-thousand-dollar dowry plus a house. Serena was overwhelmed, saying her family couldn’t afford a matching dowry. But my parents and brother didn’t care. My mom, beaming, held Serena’s hand and said, “We’re giving this to you because you deserve it. It has nothing to do with your family.” Serena’s family came from a very poor rural area, but even so, her parents scraped together a thousand dollars as a wedding gift for her, hoping she’d be happy. I saw Serena wiping away tears on the balcony and suddenly felt incredibly sad. In her previous life, she had married such a jerk. How heartbroken her parents must have been. Cheryl and Lance were also preparing for their wedding. Coincidentally, we ran into each other while scouting wedding venues. Cheryl saw us, her eyes wide. “Tiffany, your brother and Serena want to book a venue this expensive too?” I retorted, annoyed, “Are you the only ones allowed to?” Lance grinned. “We just figured you wouldn’t be able to afford it. After all, your brother’s almost thirty. He won’t be making money for many more years.” Serena whispered, “Maybe we should switch to a different hotel.” Cheryl rolled her eyes disdainfully. “A hairdresser thinking she can marry into money and climb the social ladder.” Serena opened her mouth, her face flushed crimson. I was instantly furious. What hairdresser? She’s a professional stylist, thank you very much! I was about to argue when I heard my brother ask, “How much is this venue?” The manager, who had been watching the scene unfold, quickly stepped forward. “You’re both booking on popular dates, and it’s a holiday weekend. The venue fee is thirty-eight thousand, and the banquet costs are separate.” My brother spoke directly. “Fifty thousand. We’ll take it.” Serena tugged on his sleeve. “Don’t spend that much money.” Cheryl immediately shot a glance at Lance, who then declared, “We’ll offer eighty thousand!” My brother raised it to a hundred thousand. Lance, caught up in the moment, shouted, “How about two hundred thousand?!” Cheryl shot us a triumphant look. To our surprise, my brother didn’t raise his offer. “Fine, you can have it then.” Cheryl and Lance were completely stunned. My brother and the manager directly booked another ballroom in the same hotel. Cheryl and Lance were left arguing with the manager nearby. As we left, Cheryl glared at me, seething. “You deliberately set us up, didn’t you? Just wait for the wedding day!”

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To surprise my husband for Valentine’s Day, I lied about going on a business trip, but secretly came home. The moment I pushed open the front door, I saw a strange woman lying on the bed, and a furious rage ignited within me. I rushed over, grabbed her hair, ready to unleash my anger on this shameless homewrecker, but as I turned her over, a chilling dread froze me to the core. Her eyes were vacant and lifeless, staring fixedly at me. A grotesque knife wound on her neck was gushing blood, staining the entire bedsheet crimson. Just as my heart seized with terror, I heard my husband’s key fumbling in the lock at the front door. Panicked beyond belief, I scrambled, desperately hiding in the bedroom closet. The closet door had barely swung shut when my fingertips brushed against cold, stiff flesh. I looked down, and another woman’s corpse was curled up inside! 1. My heart hammered against my ribs, threatening to shatter them. I clamped my hand over my mouth, terrified that even the slightest sound would bring about my demise. The scent of mothballs, combined with the chilling odor of the stiff corpse beside me, was suffocating. Through the narrow slats of the closet door, I watched as Chris walked in, casually closing the bedroom door behind him. My husband, the man who usually spoke in gentle tones, who was always agreeable to me, who worried if I even frowned. But now, there was no surprise or panic on his face, not even a hint of emotion. He simply cast a calm glance at the woman lying on the bed, freshly deceased, blood still gushing from the horrific wound on her neck, staining the pristine white sheets a sickening red. His gaze was as indifferent as if he were looking at an ant on the floor. Then, he walked to the bed, bent down, and with a disturbingly unhurried motion, picked up the paring knife that had fallen nearby. The tip of the knife still glistened with crimson droplets, which splattered onto the light-colored rug with a soft plink, spreading into a small, dark red stain. He held the knife, plunging it into the woman’s corpse, again and again, fiercely and precisely. The dull, wet thwack of the blade sinking into flesh echoed clearly in my ears. He stabbed her seven or eight times before finally stopping, tossing the knife aside. He turned the body over, gently cradling it in his arms, his gaze tenderly sweeping over her face. Then he pulled out a few wet wipes, meticulously and patiently, little by little, wiping away the blood spatters on her face and hair. He even tenderly smoothed her tangled auburn hair with his fingertips and gently straightened the wrinkles in her shirt. “You’re really not being good.” He spoke, his voice low, with an eerie, almost doting intimacy, just like when he’d coax me after one of my little tantrums. “Why do you insist on knowing my secrets? Hmm?” A chill shot from my feet straight to the top of my head. Secrets? What secrets did he have? Had this woman discovered something that led to her murder? What about me? Chris and I had been together for almost seven years, would I be next? After speaking, he gazed at the corpse for a moment longer, then placed an incredibly gentle kiss on her forehead before leaving the room. I didn’t know where he was going. I just tried to put as much distance as possible between myself and the corpse, then scanned the room for an escape route. But I found nothing before Chris returned. My hands and feet were icy cold, and I was curled up in the farthest corner from the body, watching the situation outside. Chris sat on the bed, resting the corpse on his lap as he sipped his tea, stroking her ashen cheek. After finishing his tea, he retrieved an oversized, thick black duffel bag from a storage cabinet. With practiced ease, he dragged the corpse over, stuffed it inside, and zipped it up. The entire process was seamless, without a hint of hesitation or wasted movement, so practiced it sent shivers down my spine. This was definitely not spontaneous; this level of expertise… I dared not think further. My whole body trembled uncontrollably, like a leaf in the wind. My teeth chattered involuntarily, making faint clicking sounds. Even worse, from extreme fear and prolonged crouching, my legs and feet were completely numb, feeling like a thousand needles were pricking them. Instinctively, I tried to shift my numb ankle, but my knee accidentally bumped the inner wall of the closet. “Click.” A faint scrape of wood, in the deadly silent room, broken only by the sound of the zipper, was like a clap of thunder. Chris, who was tightening the duffel bag, froze! He suddenly lifted his head, his gaze, sharp as a hawk’s, cutting like a physical blade directly towards the closet where I was hiding! Those eyes, usually filled with gentle smiles, were now cold, alert, and full of scrutiny and murder. I instantly froze completely, my blood seeming to stop flowing, my mind a blank. I was doomed! He found me! I’ll be the next one in the bag! 2. Yet, Chris merely narrowed his eyes, staring intently at the closet for a full ten seconds, a slight frown on his brow. Then he slowly lowered his head, muttering to himself. “Heh, just getting ahead of myself.” He resumed his task, but the speed at which he dragged the duffel bag and cleaned the blood from the floor noticeably increased. The duffel bag was temporarily tucked into the bedroom corner, partially obscured by the curtain’s tassels. Chris didn’t immediately move it. Instead, as if nothing had happened, he meticulously checked his shirt and hands, ensuring no bloodstains, then opened the bedroom door and walked out. Soon, the sound of a news broadcast drifted from the living room, a female anchor’s clear voice reporting on irrelevant international affairs. Then came the sound of running water, the squeak of a wet mop on the floor, and his occasional off-key humming. He was cleaning up, as normal and natural as any meticulous husband doing chores after work. I bit my lip hard, letting the metallic taste of blood spread in my mouth. I had to do something! I couldn’t just cower here like a lamb to the slaughter, waiting to die! I forced myself to calm down, beginning to cautiously grope around the narrow, dark closet, filled with the smell of unnatural things. My fingertips once again touched the cold, stiff body beside me, and the icy sensation sent my stomach churning. I suppressed the urge to vomit and the extreme fear, carefully searching her body. Maybe I could find something to identify her? Or, find a weapon for self-defense? Suddenly, my fingers brushed against something hard. It was on her hand, which hung limply at her side. It was a ring, on the woman’s ring finger. The design was highly unusual, like a snake biting its own tail, its body coiling, scales intricate, and its eyes set with two dark emeralds, glowing eerily in the faint light within the closet. I knew this ring, a very clear memory of it! Just a few months ago, I had seen its design sketch in a corner of a locked drawer in Chris’s study! At the time, I’d curiously asked about it, but he had just casually dismissed it as an old practice drawing he’d long forgotten. My heart pounded in my chest, threatening to burst from my throat! This was evidence, irrefutable proof directly linking Chris to this unknown woman! This unique ring was very likely the reason she was killed! Trembling, I tried to slip the ring off her stiff finger, but the corpse was completely rigid, the joints unyielding. The ring was stuck at the knuckle, unmoving. I dared not use force, fearing I’d make too much noise, so I had to give up for now. Perhaps… perhaps leaving it, for the police to discover later, would actually be crucial evidence to incriminate him? A faint flicker of hope ignited in my chest. Just as I tried to shift my position to relieve my almost numb legs and feet, and continue searching for other clues, my ankle accidentally hooked an object deep within the closet. It was a dusty, old wooden box, which slid further in when I nudged it, making a faint shhh sound as it scraped against the rough wooden floor of the closet. The sound wasn’t really loud, especially inside this fairly soundproof closet. But at that very moment, the TV volume in the living room was precisely lowered, and the mopping sound stopped. Heavy footsteps resonated, light but purposeful. He stopped just outside the bedroom door, utterly still. Through the thin door, I could almost feel his gaze, palpable and predatory, scanning the entire room. My palms were drenched in cold sweat, clutching tightly the small, decorative button I had instinctively torn off my jacket earlier. 3. Just then, the doorbell rang without warning. Chris, outside the door, seemed to freeze for a moment too. Immediately, his footsteps changed direction, heading towards the front door, a little more hurried than before. “Chris, open the door! It’s me, Archie!” Archie’s distinctively loud voice, my best friend, carried clearly from outside, laced with an obvious impatience and urgency. An overwhelming surge of joy instantly washed over me! It was Archie! My best friend! But the euphoria lasted only a second, receding as quickly as the tide, replaced by an even deeper fear and dread. Chris was a merciless devil now. How would he deal with Archie? What if he… what if he hurt Archie too? “Coming.” Chris responded, his voice instantly reverting to its usual gentle tone, even with a hint of annoyed resignation at being disturbed. I heard him walk quickly to the entryway, then the click-clack of the door opening. “Archie? What brings you here at this hour? Is something wrong?” His tone was perfectly pitched with surprise and a familiar, slight complaint. “Aurora’s suitcase!” Archie’s voice came through clearly, tinged with anger, “She left it with me earlier, to trick you into thinking she was on a business trip! She said she’d pick it up around five or six this evening, and we were supposed to have dinner! It’s almost eight now, and there’s no sign of her. Her phone has been unreachable since this afternoon—first no answer, then it went straight to voicemail! What’s going on? Where is she?” I held my breath, my heart pounding in my throat, every nerve in my body stretched taut. I desperately hoped Archie would notice something amiss, that she would be assertive, that she would barge in! Chris was silent for a second or two, then his lighthearted laugh came, tinged with doting helplessness. “That scatterbrain! She hasn’t arrived yet, I’m waiting for her too. Just leave the suitcase with you for now, Archie, thank you so much for coming all this way! I’ll make sure she treats you to a big dinner later!” He was lying! “Hasn’t arrived? No way!” Archie’s voice instantly rose an octave, laced with obvious, undisguised suspicion. “I clearly dropped her off at the apartment complex entrance around four this afternoon! I saw her walk in with a small suitcase myself!” “Chris, what’s your game? Make her answer the phone! Now! Immediately! Or let me in to wait for her! I need to know what’s going on!” My heart felt like it would leap out of my throat. I wanted Archie to come in, but I also wanted her to leave quickly. Chris’s voice took on a decisive firmness, even subtly hinting at an imperceptible coldness and threat. “Archie, look, I’m preparing a surprise for her. The apartment’s a mess with balloons and streamers, I haven’t cleaned up, it’s really not fit for guests.” “The moment she gets home, I’ll have her call you back right away, I promise you’ll be the first call, alright? Don’t worry so much.” Silence fell for a few seconds outside. This brief stillness was filled with Archie’s hesitation, suspicion, and calculation. I could almost picture her frowning, scrutinizing Chris from head to toe, trying to find a crack in his facade. “…Fine.” Archie’s voice finally broke the silence again, laced with clear reluctance and lingering doubt. “Chris, I’m telling you, if even one hair on Aurora’s head is harmed, you and I are through! The moment she arrives, you tell her to call me! Immediately! You hear me?” “Don’t worry! Absolutely! I promise!” Chris’s tone was filled with relieved sincerity. Then, the sound of the door closing forcefully. Immediately followed by the distinct, chilling, and final— “Click.” The sound of the deadbolt locking. It wasn’t loud, but it was like a heavy gate crashing down before me, severing all my connections to the outside world, to life itself. Outside, a deadly silence. Then, I heard Chris’s voice. No longer the feigned gentleness or resignation, but stripped of all masks, raw, metallic, and utterly cold. His voice wasn’t loud, but every word, piercingly clear, penetrated the door and drilled into my ears: “Aurora…” He paused, as if savoring the name, or perhaps confirming that his prey finally had no escape. “So your surprise for me was to watch me perform?”

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1 My suitcase stood packed by the bedroom door. Tonight, I was leaving the place I had called home for three years for good. Living with Frederick, the hardest part wasn’t the love fading away. It was the Ragdoll cat named Cotton, who belonged to his ex-girlfriend Sophie. It had become the unbearable, constant burden of my life. I followed every fussy instruction about imported cat food, tofu litter, and special baths, despite my severe cat allergy. Every morning, I woke with swollen eyes. Frederick would just hand me an allergy pill and say, “Hang in there a little longer. Sophie will take the cat back as soon as she finds a pet-friendly apartment.” That “little longer” stretched into fourteen months. Sophie moved three times, each with the same excuse: no pets allowed. So, Cotton stayed. My allergies turned from seasonal to a year-round nightmare. Yesterday, the doctor warned me clearly: if I didn’t get away from the cat, I could develop asthma. I sent the diagnosis to Frederick. He saw it but never replied. That night, I saw Sophie’s new post: a screenshot of her video-calling the cat. The caption read, “Long-distance parenting! Big thanks to Frederick for being the best cat-sitter an ex could ask for.” In that moment, everything became clear. I packed the empty allergy medication boxes into my suitcase, alongside a relationship that had long since spoiled. … The suitcase was waiting by the bedroom door. Zipped tight, it was filled with clothes and art supplies I’d bought for myself. Not a single thing in it was a gift from him. It wasn’t out of spite. It’s just that in three years, I could count the gifts he’d given me on one hand. Two boxes of macarons, a cheap silk scarf for my birthday, and an endless supply of allergy pills. Cotton, at some point, had leaped onto my suitcase. With a flick of her tail, a cloud of fine white fur drifted into the air and straight into my nose. I sneezed three times, hard. My eyes immediately began to swell, my vision shrinking to a slit. I lifted the cat off and placed her on the imported cat tree in the living room. The cat tree cost five hundred dollars. The allergy pills, twenty dollars a box. I’d been doing that math for fourteen months. The lock clicked. Frederick was home. The first thing he did after slipping on his house shoes was check the cat’s food bowl. It was empty. He frowned, tore open a bag of the expensive cat food, and poured it into the bowl. The kibble rattled, and Cotton came running. Only then did he notice the suitcase by the bedroom door. “Going on a trip?” “Moving out.” His hand froze. Kibble spilled from the bag, scattering across the floor. He ignored the mess and walked over, his hand closing around my wrist. My eyes were swollen, tears of allergic reaction clinging to my lashes. For the first time, a flicker of panic crossed his face. “Ava, I know this has been hard on you.” He pulled out his phone, showing me his chat history with Sophie. His last message to her: “Sophie, you have to pick up Cotton this weekend. No more excuses.” She’d replied with a string of crying emojis. “Frederick, the new landlord really won’t allow it. Can you just give me one more month? Please? I’m already looking for a new place.” Frederick put his phone away and looked at me, his expression earnest. “Just one more month, Ava. I promise, this is the last time.” I almost laughed. I opened the notes app on my phone and pulled up a file titled “The Last Time.” Entry 1: Last March. “She’ll be moved in by next month.” Entry 2: Last April. “Just a bit longer, she’s waiting on her security deposit.” Entry 3… Entry 4… There were fourteen entries in total, spanning fourteen months. Each one was dated. I didn’t show him. He pulled me into a hug, resting his chin on the top of my head. His sweater was covered in cat hair. Where my bare arm touched the wool, a red, itchy rash began to form. I didn’t push him away. “I’ll take you to the doctor tomorrow,” he murmured. “We’ll get the best imported medicine.” I pushed the suitcase back into the bedroom. It wasn’t because I’d softened. It was because I couldn’t let my anger derail my life. My drafting table was still here, and I had three original pieces for a brand collaboration due next week. A one-point-two-million-dollar contract. I wasn’t about to jeopardize that over a move. It was 2:43 AM. I woke up unable to breathe. My chest was tight, each inhale a struggle, a thin wire pulling taut in my throat. Cotton was curled up next to my pillow, her fur tickling my lips. I scrambled out of bed and rushed to the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face. A drop of blood, then another, hit the white porcelain of the sink. A nosebleed. I stuffed some tissue up my nose and went back to the bedroom. Frederick was fast asleep. His phone screen lit up. A new message. From Sophie. “Thank you for sticking up for me today, Frederick. Sometimes, knowing Cotton is still with you makes me feel like we’re still connected, you know?” It was followed by a heart emoji. I placed the phone back where it was. The tissue was soaked through. I replaced it with a fresh one. The streetlight outside cast a glow into the room, making Cotton’s eyes shine in the dark. She tilted her head, looking at me, so innocent. She didn’t know she was the string. One end tied to Frederick, the other to Sophie. And I was just the inconvenient knot tied in the middle. 2 The doorbell rang early Saturday morning. I wasn’t even out of bed yet. By the time I stumbled into the living room, wrapped in a robe, Sophie was already sitting on our sofa. Cotton was curled in her lap, her tail swaying gently. She was wearing a linen housecoat. My linen housecoat, the one that had been hanging on the hook in my bathroom. “Cotton scratched Sophie’s clothes, so I let her borrow yours,” Frederick explained, poking his head out from the kitchen. Three breakfast plates were set on the coffee table. Eggs Benedict, avocado toast, and pour-over coffee. All of Sophie’s favorites. My oat milk latte was made with whole milk. I’m lactose intolerant. After three years of living together, he remembered every detail of Sophie’s palate but couldn’t remember that whole milk would make me sick. Sophie saw my swollen eyes and immediately set the cat down, standing up. “Ava, I’m so sorry! Did Cotton bother you again? I can put her in her carrier if you want.” Her voice was soft, her eyes brimming with apology. Frederick quickly stepped in. “Cotton’s never been in a carrier. It’ll stress her out, and the vet bills for that are even worse.” He turned to me. “Why don’t you take one of your pills, Ava?” The cat’s stress was more important than my allergic reaction. I sat down and reached for the latte. But Sophie was faster. She picked up the mug from the coffee table and took a long drink of water. It was my mug. The one with the stardust pattern I’d hand-painted myself. A one-of-a-kind piece. She smiled after her drink. “This mug is so pretty.” Frederick chimed in, “Ava painted it. I’ll have her make one for you, too.” No one asked me if I wanted to. I went to my workspace to get my draft illustrations. Sophie followed me. She stood behind me, watching for a moment, her eyes lighting up. “Ava, you’re so talented! Frederick sent me your new ‘Moonlight Jellyfish’ series, and I tried copying it for practice, but I just can’t get the same feeling.” My hand, holding the drafts, froze. The Moonlight Jellyfish series. The core visual for next month’s brand collaboration launch. The contract explicitly stated, “Under no circumstances shall the work be disclosed in any form prior to the official launch.” I turned and looked at Frederick. He was on the sofa, scratching his nose. “Sophie’s learning illustration, so I thought she could use your work as a reference. It’s not like she’s using it commercially. It’s no big deal.” The confidentiality clause of a $1.2 million contract was “no big deal”? The doorbell rang again. Frederick’s mother had arrived. The first person she hugged was Sophie. “Sophie, you’ve gotten so thin! It must be hard living all by yourself.” Then, she glanced at me. “Oh, Ava’s here too.” I didn’t answer, heading to the kitchen to pour her a cup of tea. In the living room, Frederick’s mother held Sophie’s hands, chatting warmly. “You two were such a perfect match. If only Frederick hadn’t been so focused on his career back then…” She glanced my way and trailed off. She didn’t have to finish. I knew the rest. The rest was: he wouldn’t have settled for someone else. Before she left, Frederick’s mother pulled him aside. “The company’s brand launch is next week. Bring Sophie with you. It’s not easy for her out there on her own. You should help her network with people in the industry.” Frederick nodded. “Okay.” I stood in the kitchen doorway. I had drawn every single visual for that launch. Seven months, twelve original pieces. No one had asked if I was going. Sophie stayed for dinner. She and Frederick stood side-by-side in the kitchen, laughing about old stories of raising Cotton. The cat weaved around her legs, purring. She bent down, scooped Cotton into her arms, and kissed her. The scene was perfect. Standing there in the kitchen, she looked like the lady of the house. I retreated to my bedroom and shut the door. My phone buzzed. It was my best friend, Zoe, with a screenshot. It was an Instagram post from Sophie, dated three days ago. The photo showed the floor-to-ceiling window of her new apartment, bathed in sunlight. A cat tree stood by the window. Cat toys were scattered nearby. The caption: “Finally got the new place all set up. The sunlight is perfect for all-day napping.” Her apartment was pet-friendly. Fourteen months. Every single “the landlord won’t allow it” was a lie. I heard the jingle of the cat’s bell from the living room. And Sophie’s voice as she left. “Frederick, today was so wonderful. It felt just like old times.” She was right. This home had always been their “old times.” I was just a temporary guest. 3 Monday. Three days until the brand launch. I put the final stroke on the last piece at my drafting table. Twelve original collaboration pieces. Seven months of work. Each one was hand-drawn with a 0.03mm pen, each with a collector’s value in the six figures. The entire contract was worth $1.2 million. I stretched, rubbing my aching fingers. The door opened. Frederick walked in, with Sophie trailing behind him. “Ava, the company decided to add a last-minute showcase for an emerging artist at the launch. We want to give Sophie a chance to display some of her practice pieces.” He walked up to my table, his tone casual. “We’ll just use the last twenty minutes of your exhibition slot. It’s a great opportunity for her to get some exposure.” “No,” I said, flatly. Seven months of my heart and soul. Not even for twenty seconds. Frederick frowned. “Ava, can you see the bigger picture for once? Sophie is just starting out. What’s the harm in helping her out?” Sophie lowered her head. “It’s okay, Frederick. If it’s inconvenient for Ava, we shouldn’t bother her. I’ll find another opportunity…” Her voice trailed off as she turned to leave. Frederick sighed, watching her go, then turned back to me. “See? Now look how you’ve made her feel.” I ignored him and began carefully gathering my originals. Just then, Cotton slipped into the studio from somewhere. She leaped onto my drafting table. I reached out to lift her down. The cat, startled, kicked out with her back legs, her claws digging into the table’s surface. Her claws raked across three of the twelve originals I had laid out to dry. Deep gashes tore through the paper, severing the delicate ink lines. They were ruined, beyond repair. I stood there, frozen. Seven months. Every single line drawn by hand, one by one. Sophie rushed in from the doorway and scooped up the cat. “I’m so, so sorry! Cotton didn’t mean to do it!” she sobbed. Frederick’s first move was to check the cat’s paws, turning them over and over to make sure she wasn’t hurt. Only then did he look at the shredded artwork on my table. “Can you fix them?” “No.” “Then just print out digital copies to replace them. The client will never know the difference.” He said it so calmly. The originals had a six-figure collector’s value. The prints were worthless. But to him, there was no difference. I said nothing. That evening, the head of the brand called me. Her voice was ice. Three of my line-art illustrations, she said, were “highly similar” to a submission in a competition for new artists. She asked me if I had plagiarized the work. I told her it was impossible. She sent me the side-by-side comparison. The name of the “new artist” was Sophie. The submission date was two weeks before I had delivered my final drafts. She had used the files Frederick had secretly sent her to enter a competition in advance. The brand representative’s words were sharp. “Ms. Reed, this raises a serious dispute about originality. We have to suspend the collaboration and launch an investigation.” The $1.2 million contract was frozen. I called Frederick. In the background, I could hear Sophie’s voice. “Thanks for taking me to get Cotton’s paw checked today.” He was dropping her home. The cat’s paw was more important than my $1.2 million contract. I didn’t waste words. I sent him the recording of my call with the brand. He was silent for a full five seconds. “I’ll handle this,” he said finally. “Sophie wouldn’t do this on purpose. She just doesn’t know the industry rules. I’ll talk to her. Don’t worry.” He hung up. I stared at the three ruined originals and the “contract suspended” notification on my phone. Seven months of work. Three years of a relationship. And he wanted to brush it all away with a simple, “She didn’t mean to do it.”

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I gently wiped the wine from my face, my expression perfectly calm. “Since you keep talking about spending the rest of your life with that stuffed bear, I am simply granting your wish.” “Gunther!” “Our daughter just turned one, and you are using this ridiculous excuse to divorce me. You are a complete and utter bastard.” Judy was shaking, her eyes rimmed with furious, red tears. “Sign the papers,” I said, entirely unfazed. “I will see you at the divorce attorney’s office tomorrow at nine in the morning.” I did not want to waste another breath. I threw the divorce agreement onto the table and turned to leave. The entire banquet hall fell dead silent. None of the guests could comprehend why the city’s most envied, picture-perfect couple was suddenly imploding. A flash of panic crossed Judy’s eyes. Her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Kensington, frowned deeply, their expressions turning dark. No one expected me to be this ruthless. Simon, her executive assistant, lunged forward and grabbed my shoulder, pulling me back. “Girls love stuffed animals. Stop acting crazy and apologize to Judy right now.” “Do you not remember what she went through for you? She almost died giving birth to your child. She labored for two agonizing days without an epidural.” “She sleeps in a separate room and takes care of the baby alone just so you can get a good night’s rest. How can you be so blind to her sacrifices?” The surrounding guests immediately joined in, burying me in criticism. “Simon is absolutely right. You have a perfect life. What is wrong with you? Do you have any idea how many men would kill to have a wife like her?” “If something is bothering you, sit down and talk like adults. You do not just take your anger out on your wife and throw the word divorce around.” Taking a deep breath to compose herself, Judy rushed forward and wrapped her arms tightly around my waist. “Honey.” “We have known each other, loved each other, and stayed by each other’s side for twelve whole years. I know you. You are gentle. You never lose your temper.” “Is something wrong at the company? Are you asking for a divorce because you are in trouble and do not want to drag me down? Tell us. We can figure it out together.” Seeing her defend me so fiercely, the crowd praised her grace, which only made me look like an ungrateful monster. “Gunther, I may be retired, and I step back from the business these days, but people in this city still respect my name.” “We are family. If you are in trouble, speak up. Do not bottle it up inside.” Mr. and Mrs. Kensington finally broke their silence. They still chose to trust my character. After all, I was the son-in-law they had carefully handpicked. Ignoring the piercing stares of everyone in the room, I shoved Judy away. My voice was ice. “It is very simple. I do not love you anymore.” A pin drop could be heard in the hall. “What? Say that again.” Judy froze, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. “I said I do not love you anymore!” “Did you hear me clearly this time?” With that, I stepped around her and headed for the door. “Stop right there!” Simon violently grabbed my collar, screaming in my face. “Drop this act right now! Even as an assistant, I cannot stand to watch this.” “Did you forget how obsessed you were with her? You chased her for three entire years! You dated for six years before you finally got married!” “Did you forget your own wedding vows? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health. She never abandoned you.” “Your daughter is only a year old! Do you want her to grow up in a broken home?” Watching him play the furious protector, a mocking smirk touched my lips. “Why are you so desperate? Unless…” Simon completely cut me off, his arrogance flaring. “Anyone with a conscience would be disgusted by an ungrateful parasite like you.” “You came from nothing. Judy never looked down on you. She gave you a high-level position in her family’s empire.” “If it was not for the Kensington family, would you have this luxury life? Would you be sitting in a CEO chair?” Smack! I backhanded him across the face with everything I had. “You are just an assistant. Know your place.” Judy immediately panicked. “Are you insane, Gunther? What gives you the right to hit Simon?” She shoved me hard in the chest and rushed to help Simon off the floor. Her eyes were overflowing with frantic, undeniable concern. “He deserved worse,” I said, clenching my fists. I felt absolutely zero remorse. My coldness instantly triggered the crowd’s disgust. They all whispered that my usual gentle demeanor was nothing but a fake mask, hiding a violent, hypocritical nature. Simon looked at Judy, playing the wounded victim perfectly. “I am so sorry, Judy. This is all my fault.” “I should have kept my mouth shut. I made Mr. Kensington angry. Please do not blame him.” He kept his head down, looking terribly guilty. “It is not your fault.” “I dragged you into this.” Judy comforted him softly before turning back to me, her tone shifting into a pathetic plea. “Honey, we do not need to take our issues out on other people.” “Today is our daughter’s first birthday. Please stop causing a scene. I am begging you.” As she spoke, her tears began to fall again. Her heartbreaking compromise contrasted perfectly with my brutal arrogance. The guests entirely sided with her. Mr. Kensington took a deep breath, trying to be the voice of reason one last time. “Gunther, you have worked hard all these years. You have been a good husband and a respectful son.” “There is no need to make this so ugly.” “If you can show me actual proof that you have been wronged, I swear I will stand by you and seek justice.” He was handing me an olive branch. I did not take it. My expression remained locked in stone. “This marriage is over.” Mr. Kensington’s face turned completely purple. Judy stared at me through her tears. “Are you seeing another woman?” “Think whatever you want,” I replied flatly. “Enough!” Mr. Kensington finally lost his temper, his voice booming across the room. “I am giving you exactly three days to think about this, Gunther.” “You either come home and fix your marriage.” “Or I will see you in court, and you will walk away penniless.” “Do not ever forget that everything you own today was given to you by me.” His threat was heavy. Everyone expected me to instantly fold. Instead, I turned on my heel and walked out the door. Outside in the cool night air, my junior from law school, Audrey, had been waiting for me by her car. “I already sent my private investigators to Europe,” she said with a sharp, confident smile. “You will have the answers you are looking for very soon.” “Thank you.” “We are going to trial against Judy in three days. I need you there as my lead attorney.” I collapsed into the leather backseat, utterly exhausted. I pulled out my phone and opened a saved security video. On the screen, Judy’s beloved giant stuffed bear was casually walking out of the guest bedroom. It stood in the middle of the living room and did a bizarre, rhythmic dance directly in front of the hidden camera. Three days was more than enough time to set the trap and burn everything to the ground. I originally planned to stay at a luxury hotel, but every single one of my bank cards declined. That was when I remembered that over the past year, Judy had slowly manipulated the finances back under her family’s control. Even the names on the joint accounts had been quietly changed to hers. On the surface, I was the head of a happy, wealthy family. In reality, I was completely isolated. I crashed on Audrey’s couch for the night. The next morning, I went to the corporate headquarters to pack my personal belongings. The moment I stepped into the lobby, the whispering began. “A pathetic gold digger who does not know how good he has it. Asking for a divorce? What an idiot.” “So what if the boss likes sleeping with a giant teddy bear? I love stuffed animals too. It is harmless.” “He is probably just tired of her post-pregnancy body and wants a younger model. I bet he is hiding a dozen mistresses in the city.” They looked at me like I was a convicted serial killer. The judgment in their eyes was suffocating. Before I could even respond, Judy’s voice echoed behind me. “Shut your mouths. Who gave you permission to gossip? Get back to work.” The employees scattered like frightened mice. “Honey.” “I bought you a new watch. Try it on.” Judy pulled a pristine, velvet-lined box from her designer bag. Gasps immediately filled the lobby. “A limited edition Patek Philippe! Only three of those exist in the world, and they were supposedly bought by anonymous billionaires.” “She must have moved mountains to get that watch. She cares about him so much.” Jealousy radiated from everyone in the room. My face remained completely blank. I pushed the box away. “I am just here to pick up my family heirloom. Give the watch to your teddy bear.” The room froze. Judy stood there, completely stunned. The employees were furious, whispering that I was a heartless piece of trash. I tuned them all out and walked straight to the executive floor. When my parents passed away, the only thing they left me was a simple jade pendant. They said it would ward off evil. I had worn it around my neck my entire life. A few months ago, Judy kept complaining that her office felt freezing and creepy, claiming she heard weird noises. I took the pendant off and hung it in her office. The strange occurrences supposedly stopped. She did not deserve to have it anymore. I pushed open the heavy glass doors to her office and saw Simon playing with my daughter on the carpet. “Mr. Kensington.” “You finally came back. Living a good life is better than throwing it all away. Look at your daughter.” “She is so precious. How could you ever abandon her?” Simon said, picking the baby up and stepping directly into my path. “Get out of my way,” I said, a deep frown carving into my face. “Sir.” “This is your own flesh and blood. Are you really refusing to even look at her?” Simon demanded loudly. “Move!” Annoyed, I shoved Simon’s shoulder aside and walked straight to the back wall to retrieve my jade pendant. A second later, a loud, piercing cry echoed through the room. I turned around. Simon and my daughter were both sprawled on the hard floor. Right at that exact moment, Judy and several senior executives walked into the office. Judy dropped her files, rushed over, and snatched the crying baby into her arms. She frantically checked her for injuries and let out a huge sigh of relief when she saw no blood. “What exactly happened here?” Her furious gaze darted between me and Simon. Simon lowered his head, his voice trembling. “I just wanted him to look at his daughter. But he refused. He shoved me away.” “It is my fault. I am useless. If I had better balance, we would not have fallen.” What? Hearing his pathetic lie, Judy stood up, marched over, and slapped me across the cheek. “How could you be this cold-blooded?! That is your biological daughter!” “She is only a year old! What if you broke her neck?!” My reaction was chillingly calm. “Say whatever you want. I do not care if she drops dead.” Judy completely broke down, sobbing hysterically. Simon pointed a shaking finger at my face. “Are you even human?! Cursing your own baby to die? You are absolute scum!” “Enough. Do not waste another breath on him.” Judy looked at me, her entire body trembling as she wiped her tears. “I am completely done with you.” “Get out!” “Get the hell out of my building! I can live perfectly fine without you, and my daughter does not need a monster for a father.” “I will see you in court!” She screamed the last sentence until her voice cracked. I did not say a single word. I turned around and walked out. The news of our explosive divorce leaked to the press almost immediately. The internet was flooded with wild rumors. Anonymous sources claimed I was funding dozens of mistresses. Tabloids published blurry photos claiming I frequented underground escort clubs. Bloggers swore I had secret illegitimate children hidden across the country. I was nailed to the cross of public opinion. To the entire internet, I was a cheating, ungrateful parasite who abandoned his perfect wife and innocent child. I chose total silence. I did not offer a single explanation. Three days later, I finally appeared at the city courthouse. Because the trial was open to the public, the gallery was packed with mutual friends, business partners, and a swarm of hungry journalists. “Gunther.” “I am giving you one last chance. Swallow your pride, apologize, and we can go back to our normal lives.” Judy stared at me, her fists clenched tight in her lap. Simon sat right behind her, chiming in. “You have absolutely zero legal ground. You are going to lose, and you are going to walk away with nothing. How will you even survive? You will be a pariah.” “Give up before you end up sleeping on the streets.” Mr. and Mrs. Kensington sat in the front row, their faces grim. “Gunther, I strongly suggest you think about the consequences.” “Trying to take half her assets just because she likes sleeping with a stuffed bear is a joke. You cannot win.” I ignored every single one of them. I walked straight to the plaintiff’s table and sat down next to Audrey. The Kensington family let out a collective, disgusted scoff. The judge slammed his gavel. The trial began. The judge reviewed the massive stack of documents Judy had submitted. He looked down at me from the bench. “Sleeping with a stuffed animal does not constitute marital fault.” “However, the respondent has submitted fifty photographs of you being intimately close with other women.” “If you cannot provide compelling new evidence, this court will rule you as the party at fault based on the established facts.” I stood up, adjusting my suit jacket. “I have evidence, Your Honor.” The real show was about to begin. Every camera lens in the room focused on me. The crowd leaned in, desperate to see what desperate trick I was going to pull. “The plaintiff requests permission to play a video file,” Audrey said, handing a secure USB drive to the bailiff. The judge nodded. The court clerk plugged the drive into the system, projecting the contents onto the massive screen above the witness stand. There were three locked folders. At my instruction, the clerk opened the first folder and clicked play. The courtroom gasped. On the screen, Judy was wearing a sheer, electric-blue silk nightgown. She was straddling her massive stuffed teddy bear on their bed. She was moving her hips in a slow, provocative rhythm, pressing her body intimately against the plush fabric. Her eyes were half-closed, her face flushed with pure, intoxicating ecstasy as she whispered breathlessly into the bear’s ear. “Oh my god… Judy was secretly doing that with a teddy bear?” “That is absolutely insane. She is a married woman!” “Who dry-humps a toy while their husband is in the next room?!” The gallery erupted into shocked, scandalized whispers. Judy’s face flushed a violent, humiliating crimson. She never expected me to have this footage. She knew for a fact there were no security cameras inside the master bedroom. “She has a medical condition!” Simon suddenly shouted, jumping up to run damage control. “Judy nearly died on the operating table giving birth. The trauma caused severe postpartum depression!” “We have certified medical records from her psychiatrist. This was just a coping mechanism. A harmless way for her to relieve extreme stress!” Hearing this medical excuse, the crowd’s tone shifted. “Oh, if it is postpartum depression, that actually makes sense.” “Yeah, trauma patients do really weird things when they are breaking down.” “When I had PPD, I used to sit in the closet and cry while holding a potted plant.” “What kind of monster husband films his sick wife having a mental breakdown just to humiliate her?! He is disgusting!” Seeing the crowd side with them again, Simon went on the offensive. He pointed a self-righteous finger at me. “You have crossed the line, Gunther.” “You neglected your sick wife, and now you are weaponizing her darkest moments to publicly destroy her.” “You are doing all of this just to steal her money. Are you even a man?!” He was masterfully manipulating the narrative, trying to trap me in a moral cage. Judy buried her face in her hands, sobbing uncontrollably. “Do not cry, sweetie. Mom and Dad are right here. We will protect you!” Mrs. Kensington wrapped her arms around Judy, glaring at me with pure hatred. “They say marriage is sacred. How could you abuse my daughter like this?” “Do you know how important a woman’s reputation is?!” “How is she supposed to show her face in public after this? You are a psychopath!” Mr. Kensington’s eyes were bloodshot. He gritted his teeth, his voice trembling with rage. “I was blind to let you into my family. I fed a rabid wolf.” “I swear on my life, I will destroy you for humiliating my daughter!” The entire courtroom was practically calling for my blood. The reporters were furiously typing, live-streaming the drama to millions of angry netizens who were demanding I be locked up. “Order in the court!” The judge slammed his gavel violently, silencing the chaos. “Please open the second folder,” I said, my voice cutting through the silence like a scalpel. Since I had dared to walk into this courtroom, I was prepared to burn it all down. The judge nodded. The clerk opened the second folder. It was filled with dozens of video files. They played the first video. It was the exact footage I had watched in the car.

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The sterile scent of the hospital was what finally dragged me back, but the grotesque scene from that midnight still clung to my mind like a phantom limb. Three months pregnant, I’d been jolted awake by a searing cramp in my abdomen, only to find the bed beside me cold and empty. Was he, Adam, working late again? I clung to the wall, dragging myself to the next room, hoping to find my live-in “mother-in-law” for help. The door was unlocked, a gentle push all it took to open it – and my blood ran ice cold. Adam’s arm was draped beneath the woman’s head, their bodies spooned together, sound asleep. The agonizing twist in my stomach combined with the horror unfolding before my eyes sent me spiraling into unconsciousness. When I next opened my eyes, I was in a hospital bed. The more I thought about it, the more wrong it felt. My hands shaking, I dialed Mr. Roberts, Adam’s father, who lived in the countryside. When I mentioned “my mother-in-law,” Mr. Roberts’ voice on the other end was laced with confusion: “Mother-in-law? Adam’s mother?” “Adam’s biological mother passed away when he was ten, honey. Where did you get a mother-in-law from?” Mr. Roberts’ words hit me like a thunderclap, sending shivers down my spine. 1 My hands began to tremble uncontrollably, barely gripping my phone. Adam’s mother died when he was ten. So who was the woman who’d lived in my house for three years, the woman I’d called “mother-in-law” for three whole years? My phone was on speaker, so my parents, sitting beside me, heard Mr. Roberts’ words too. Seeing me frozen, my dad snatched the phone. “Mr. Roberts, are you certain?” “Adam’s mother passed away twenty years ago?” Mr. Roberts’ voice still held a hint of amusement, as if he’d heard a ridiculous joke. “My dear man, what kind of talk is that? She was my wife, Adam’s birth mother. You think I wouldn’t know if she was alive or dead?” Dad’s face was beet red, he was about to say more, but I grabbed the phone back. “Okay, Dad, I understand.” After hanging up, I sat on the hospital bed, unmoving, tears streaming down my face. Mr. Roberts’ words confirmed my suspicions. The so-called “mother-in-law” living in our home was absolutely not Adam Roberts’ mother! Seeing my tears, Mom frantically tried to comfort me, but couldn’t help tearing up herself. “Aurora, please don’t cry. You just lost your baby, and you’re in your postpartum recovery. You absolutely mustn’t cry. You’re so young, what if you damage your eyes?” Dad’s face was livid with rage. “That scoundrel! That absolute scoundrel!” “Don’t worry, Dad won’t let him off easy. I’ll make sure he gives you answers!” I fiercely wiped away my tears, looking up at my parents. “Dad, Mom, trust me this once.” “I want to handle this myself.” No sooner had I spoken than Adam and my so-called “mother-in-law,” Elaine Walker, pushed open the hospital room door. The moment he entered, Adam rushed to the bedside, his face etched with anxiety. “Aurora, please let me explain. It’s really not what you think. Last night, my mom wasn’t feeling well, her back was aching terribly. I was just helping her with a back rub. It got late, and I accidentally fell asleep in her room. You truly misunderstood.” Before I could even speak, Dad couldn’t restrain himself and was about to curse him out. I shot Dad a look, and he reluctantly held back his fury, though his tone was still stiff. “You’re thirty years old! Don’t you know the basic decency of a grown child keeping their distance from their parents? Adam! You caused the death of your own child, you’re an animal!” Adam hung his head low, unable to meet my father’s gaze. Elaine, seeing this, looked heartbroken, but knowing they were in the wrong, she dared not quarrel with my parents. “My dear in-laws, please don’t say such things. It’s all my fault, I didn’t raise him well. Don’t worry, I’ll be more careful from now on, this kind of situation definitely won’t happen again.” Mom was about to speak, but I gently squeezed her hand. 2 “Mom, let it go.” Hearing my words, Adam looked up, his face brightening with surprise. “Aurora, you forgive me?” My parents looked indignant, but remembering my earlier instruction, they ultimately kept silent. I landed two sharp slaps across Adam’s face. “This slap, that’s for me!” “This one, that’s for our baby!” Elaine’s face was a mask of pain, but she bit her lip, not daring to step forward. They were clearly in the wrong, so they couldn’t say much. What exactly was going on between him and Elaine? I absolutely needed to find out. Though I couldn’t push for a divorce just yet, I wasn’t going to swallow this insult. Three days later, I was discharged from the hospital. Despite my parents’ worry, I declined to recover at their house and went back home with Adam and Elaine. Shortly after we arrived, Adam, who hadn’t been to work for three days, rushed off to the office. Elaine also grabbed her grocery basket and headed to the supermarket. Seizing the opportunity while they were both out, I made my way into Elaine’s room. Before, I always believed in maintaining boundaries between in-laws, so I’d never entered her room. But my gut told me there was something I needed to find in there. Sure enough, in the bottom drawer of her wardrobe, I found a stack of photographs. The subject of almost every photo was Elaine. There were pictures of her wearing an apron, cooking in the kitchen; watering plants on the balcony; wiping tables in the living room. And even some intimate ones, utterly inappropriate, taken in a bedroom. These photos clearly suggested a relationship far beyond a normal mother-son bond. Besides the photos, I discovered numerous love letters, all written by Adam to Elaine. Adam was thirty now, and judging by the dates, they had been together for twelve years. At that time, Adam was eighteen. And Elaine was already thirty-nine. I steadied myself, took photos of all the pictures and letters, then carefully put everything back exactly as I’d found it. After I finished, I returned to my room, tears silently falling. Though I had suspected it all along, seeing the truth laid bare was utterly sickening. It all made sense now. Everything clicked. When we first met five years ago, Adam told me his parents were divorced, that he was from a single-parent home, and had grown up with his mother. Two years later, we decided to get married. But when it came time for our families to meet, Adam told me his parents had a bad relationship after the divorce, so we’d have to meet them separately. Before I met his father, he even warned me not to mention his mother. Elaine didn’t even attend our wedding. My parents and I didn’t understand, but we just assumed the divorce had been messy and painful. Fearing we’d stir up old wounds for Adam and his dad, we didn’t press for details. After we married, Adam’s father stayed mostly in the countryside and never once encountered Elaine. Looking back, from the beginning of our relationship until now, Adam had already brought Elaine into my life under the guise of being his mother, and she had lived with us for three years. The thought of it made my stomach churn, and I leaned over the bed, dry-heaving. At dinnertime, Elaine brought a bowl of chicken noodle soup into my room. She placed the soup on the bedside table. “Aurora, the chicken noodle soup is fresh, have some to tide you over. Dinner will be ready soon.” I glanced at the soup, a layer of grease floating on top. “Too oily.” Three minutes later, Elaine returned with a fresh bowl of soup. 3 I took a sip, then set it down. “Too bland.” A little while later, Elaine came in with another new bowl of soup. I didn’t even look at it. “I don’t want chicken noodle soup anymore.” “Go buy a fresh salmon, I want salmon chowder.” Elaine bit her lower lip, looking as if she’d suffered a tremendous injustice. After a moment, she seemed to compose herself, forcing a weak smile. “Alright, I’ll go get it right away.” Adam didn’t return until dusk. Perhaps Elaine had spoken to him, because the moment he entered the room, Adam sat beside me, his face etched with exhaustion. “Aurora, my mom is getting old, please don’t make her run around so much…” Adam’s words were cut short by a sharp slap across his face. “I’m making her run around?” “Adam! Whose fault is it that I lost our baby?” “I just wanted some salmon chowder. Is that a capital crime?” Adam stared at me for a long time, but ultimately said nothing, rising and leaving the room. I watched Adam’s retreating back, pondering deeply. Why? Why could Elaine stand by and watch Adam marry someone else? Why would Adam risk everything to give Elaine a fake identity, just so she could live under the same roof as us? If their love was so profound, why did he need to marry me? A million questions swirled in my mind. But I knew it wasn’t the right time yet. For the next week, I tormented Elaine relentlessly. I complained that her cooking was terrible, that she didn’t wash clothes properly, that her loud movements around the house disturbed my rest. Finally, one midnight, thinking I was asleep, I heard Adam open Elaine’s bedroom door. Barefoot, I crept to Elaine’s door and pressed my ear against it. Elaine’s voice sounded tearful and resentful. “Maybe we should find someone else, Aurora is absolutely driving me insane these past few days.” “She finally got pregnant after three years of marriage, and now the baby’s gone. Who knows if she’ll ever get pregnant again?” “If that’s the case, we might as well get someone younger, maybe she’ll conceive faster.” Adam seemed to hesitate, and then, after a long moment, he spoke. “But her work performance is outstanding, she’s practically secured all the company’s current contracts.” “And besides, she just lost a baby. If I brought up divorce now, she definitely wouldn’t handle it well.” “Alright, Elaine, just bear with it a little longer. Once she recovers and gives birth, I’ll divorce her. Then we’ll be a proper family, the three of us, and no one will ever make you suffer again.” Elaine’s voice was choked with emotion. “Okay then, once she’s recovered, you need to get her pregnant quickly, and I’ll cook her more nourishing soups.” “Adam, you have to understand, if I weren’t too old to have children, why would I have put up with this for so many years?” “I’m doing all of this for you, for the Roberts family to carry on its lineage. If you ever betray me, I swear I won’t forgive you.” Soon, the room filled with intimate sounds. I staggered back to my room. The moment I closed the door, I couldn’t hold myself up any longer and slid down the wood, collapsing onto the floor. So, to them, my only purpose was to be a baby-making machine. From the very first day of our marriage, Elaine would constantly make me various nourishing soups, and the topic of having children was always on her lips. Though it made me uncomfortable, I just assumed it was an old “mother-in-law” who yearned for grandchildren.

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I stood in the center of the penthouse suite holding a snow-white Teacup Poodle. Suddenly, my lifelong rival, Roman, appeared out of nowhere and pinned me against the floor-to-ceiling window. He kissed me with a desperate, intoxicating heat. Right at that exact moment, rows of glowing text began scrolling across my vision. The comments were vicious. They called me a desperate, man-hungry side character. They said if the male lead hadn’t been drugged and mistaken me for someone else, I would never have had a chance with him. They gloated that the female lead would soon arrive to save him. Once he woke up, I, the wicked villainess, was going to pay a heavy price. Someone even dropped a spoiler. They claimed Roman was the female lead’s loyal guard dog. Because he hated me for defiling him, he would throw me to the streets to be humiliated by a gang of thugs, leaving me to die a gruesome death in an alley. My heart was pounding out of my chest as I read the terrifying predictions. Suddenly, the suite door was pushed open. Lily stood there with red, teary eyes, screaming, “What are you two doing?!” But the steamy, scandalous scene she was expecting wasn’t there. I wasn’t holding Roman in my arms. I was holding a fluffy little Poodle. The dog and I turned our heads to look at her at the exact same time. I let out a confused “Huh?” and the Poodle chimed in with a perfectly timed “Woof!” 1 [Wait, where is my male lead?! Where did my massive, dominating CEO go?!] [Did he just magically turn into a freaking puppy?!] [I wanted to read about the female lead’s emotionally broken puppy boy, not an actual literal dog! WTF!] [My brain hurts… what is this plot twist?] Lily scanned the entire room, failing to find Roman anywhere. She turned to me with a look of stubborn defiance. “Sally, where are you hiding Roman?” I casually stroked the soft fur of the Poodle in my arms. “You must be joking, Lily. Look around. Where exactly could I hide a fully grown man in here?” Lily looked suspicious. Soon, her gaze landed on the dog in my arms. A woman’s intuition told her this little animal was incredibly important. “That looks like my missing dog.” She reached out, trying to snatch him. “Miss Sally, can you give my puppy back to me?” The glowing comments exploded across my vision again. [Stop causing trouble, you wicked villainess! Give the male lead back to the female lead right now!] [Once our sweet girl takes him home, their romantic cohabitation arc begins!] [The process is a bit weird now, but as long as they end up together, it works!] I shielded the Poodle, giving Lily a freezing glare. “You think everything belongs to you just because you say so? Do you have any proof?” Right then, the usually well-behaved Poodle started struggling violently, trying to break free from my arms. [Yes! Bite her! Bite this evil woman!] [You desperate bitch, the male lead is choosing his true love! Stop being so delusional!] An invisible hand squeezed my heart. I couldn’t help but loosen my grip. The white furball dropped to the carpet, rolled over once, and immediately sprinted toward Lily. Lily opened her arms with a delighted smile. “Come here, baby!” The next second, a loud splashing sound filled the room. The Poodle lifted his hind leg and unloaded a massive stream of yellow liquid right onto Lily’s pristine white designer dress. Then, wagging his tail happily, he bounced right back into my arms. His dark, grape-like eyes were completely filled with smug satisfaction. I couldn’t hold it back. I burst out laughing. The scrolling comments went dead silent. Lily’s face turned so green you would think she just swallowed a live fly. I hugged the dog, my expression shifting into a mocking smirk. “Looks like you and your own dog aren’t very close.” I pointed a finger toward the door. “Be smart and get out. I don’t welcome people like you in my space.” Lily’s eyes turned red, her voice trembling. “Sally… I might be a girl from a poor background, but I have my dignity!” “Dignity?” I cut her off with a half-smile. “Right. The designer clothes and bags you are wearing are things Roman supposedly begged you to accept. You despise rich, powerful people like us, don’t you?” “So, could our pure, noble Lily please roll out of my room?” After Lily ran away covering her face crying, I finally had a moment to look down at the Poodle in my arms. Even though I had already processed the initial shock, it still felt absolutely surreal. I called Roman a dog all the time. I just never expected him to literally turn into one. Roman and I grew up together. Our families were close business partners. He was my childhood rival, and aside from constantly bickering with me, he was a perfectly normal guy. That was until Lily showed up. After meeting her, Roman became completely unhinged. He started speaking in a deep, gravelly voice, pinning people against walls, and spitting out ridiculous alpha-male quotes. “Woman, you have successfully captured my attention.” I thought he was just incredibly horny and suggested he get his brain checked. Instead, he accused me of having a sinister crush on him. “The weather is getting cold. It is time for your family’s company to go bankrupt.” I recorded that threat, sent it to his parents, and his father beat him black and blue before freezing all his credit cards. I figured that would shut him up. Instead, he cornered me with a look of supreme disgust. “You think threatening me with my parents will make me love you? My heart only belongs to Lily. Stop being so delusional.” “If you ever dare touch a single hair on her head, I will show you the true meaning of hellfire!” Remembering the comments predicting my gruesome death, my gaze toward the Poodle turned dangerous. My hands slowly moved toward his fragile little neck. The comments immediately panicked. [Is the villainess trying to kill him while he is weak?!] [Holy crap, look at her eyes! She is going to murder the dog!] [Run, male lead! Run!] Noticing my dark stare, the puppy suddenly tilted his head. He looked up at me with huge, watery, innocent eyes. “Woof?” Damn it. That was way too cute. His fluffy tail wagged so fast it looked like a helicopter rotor. The comments were instantly overwhelmed by people crying over how adorable he was. [Help! What happened to the dominating, toxic CEO trope?!] [Where are your morals? Where is your bottom line? Also, drop the address so I can steal this puppy!] [This would be absolutely perfect if he was acting this way with the female lead instead…] The little Poodle was incredibly clingy, burying his face into my chest. His soft, curly white fur tickled my neck. Was this really the same Roman who walked around with an ice-cold resting bitch face all day? He was literally a different breed now. The comments went back to being salty. [Ahhh! Why are you throwing yourself at her?! Open your eyes, she is the evil side character!] [He must have lost his memories when he transformed.] [Just wait until he turns back into a human. He is definitely going to kill her to vent his anger!] I picked the little white furball up by the scruff of his neck. “Stray dogs are filthy. Don’t rub your dirt on me.” The Poodle immediately dropped his ears, looking at me with big, pathetic, wet eyes. A wicked grin crept onto my lips. “You need a bath first.” The moment the words left my mouth, the little guy went stiff as a statue. 2 In the bathroom, I held down the frantically splashing Poodle with one hand and operated the showerhead with the other. Realizing escape was impossible, the little guy eventually gave up and laid flat in the tub, looking completely dead inside. I scrubbed him from head to tail, inside and out. His curly white fur plastered flat against his body, making him look like a drowned rat. However, when I tried to wash between his hind legs, he fought me like his life depended on it. He crossed his two front paws over his crotch, guarding his modesty. “Pfft…” I could not hold back my laughter. “Why are you acting so shy, like you are actually human?” The moment I said that, I froze. I looked down at the dog in absolute disbelief. “Wait a second. Do you still have your memories?” The Poodle, who had been playing dead, suddenly went rigid. He guiltily covered his eyes with his little paws. My scalp went numb. I lifted him by the back of his neck and brought him right up to my face. “Roman! You know exactly who you are?!” The Poodle gave a slow, reluctant nod. I let go of him and buried my face in my hands. Good god. Not only did I just bathe him, but I had completely trashed his reputation, thinking he was an amnesiac dog. He guiltily tapped my sleeve with his paw. I swatted it away. He dropped his head, trotted over to the nightstand, and clumsily used his paw to unlock his phone. A second later, a notification popped up on my screen. A wire transfer for one million dollars. The memo line simply read: [Adoption Fee]. 3 My mood instantly flipped from cloudy to sunny. A small smile tugged at the corners of my mouth before I could even stop it. Roman continued to type clumsily with his paws. [I have no idea why I turned into this.] [I have nowhere else to go right now. Can you please take me in for a bit?] I was about to say yes when I remembered the scrolling comments. Once he turned back, he was supposedly going to be the one to orchestrate my death. My mood plummeted again. “Aren’t you absolutely obsessed with Lily?” I sneered, crossing my arms. “I am sure she would be thrilled to keep you as a pet. I can drop you off at her place right now.” Roman panicked. He spun in circles, his paws furiously tapping the screen. [Bullshit! I do not like her! The person I actually like is…] “Is who?” I narrowed my eyes. Roman suddenly lost his nerve. He covered his face with his paws, peeking at me through the gaps like a guilty child caught stealing candy. Ha! So he still refused to admit it. I mocked his signature alpha-male tone. “Didn’t you say that if anyone hurt Lily, you would slaughter their entire family? You sounded pretty tough back then, Mr. CEO.” It was the very first time I had ever seen a dog look genuinely embarrassed. Roman’s fluffy ears flattened completely against his head. He typed on his phone, looking utterly defeated. [I do not know what happened. During that time, I felt like I was possessed…] I let out a cold scoff. But thinking back, the whole situation had been bizarre. Roman’s personality had basically been hijacked the moment he met Lily. Their first encounter ended with him forcing someone to kneel and apologize to her, calling them filthy peasants. Then came the classic dynamic of her running away and him obsessively chasing. It was a textbook toxic romance between an overbearing billionaire and a pure, unyielding innocent flower. The most ridiculous part was when Roman’s parents tried to gently talk some sense into Lily. Roman exploded, accusing his own parents of trying to tear them apart, and threatened to cut all family ties. His parents were so angry they drove to my house in the middle of the night and complained to my parents until three in the morning. Roman kept typing. [This time, someone drugged my drink. Lily just magically appeared in my hotel room out of nowhere.] [If I had not snapped out of the trance at the very last second and forced myself to run away, she would have completely taken advantage of me!] “So you just broke into my room instead?” I blurted out. The white furball nodded. A weird, heavy silence fell over the room. I remembered how Roman had burst through my door, slammed me against the glass, and kissed me breathless without a word of warning. My cheeks instantly caught fire. Meanwhile, Roman was so embarrassed he had buried his entire face under his paws on the bed. “Ro-man!” I gritted my teeth and picked him up by the scruff again. 4 After putting him in his place, I lay on the sofa to organize my thoughts. According to the comments, we were living inside a cliché billionaire romance novel. Roman and Lily were the main characters. But looking at Roman’s current reaction, he was clearly a victim of the plot too. All the weird red flags pointed directly at Lily. Sending him back to his family was impossible. If his mother saw her son had turned into a Poodle, she would probably pass out on the spot. I had to call his house and tell them he was crashing at my place for a few days. “Keep him! Keep him as long as you want!” His mother sounded absolutely thrilled on the phone. “Tell him he does not ever have to come back! Sally honey, I am leaving that brat in your capable hands.” I hung up and tapped Roman’s wet black nose, laughing at him. “See how annoying you are? Your own parents are celebrating your absence!” Roman let out a pathetic little whimper. He wrapped his front paws around my wrist and rubbed his fluffy head against my palm. Help! How was I supposed to resist this?! I had zero defense against fluffy animals! I gritted my teeth and put him down, fighting the urge to pet him. I could not let this guy win. “I am going to work. Stay here and behave.” Before I could even stand up, Roman leaped right back into my arms. He clung to my blazer, his dark eyes sparkling. “Woof, woof.” I am going too! His logic was that since he turned into a dog while he was with me, he needed to stick by my side to see if there was a trigger to turn him back. I had no choice but to bring him to the office. I left him in the VIP lounge and warned him not to run around. When I finally finished my meetings and went to check on him, I found a massive crowd of female employees packed into the lounge. Looking through the crowd, I saw the little white furball standing on one hind leg on top of the coffee table, wobbling as he struck a majestic pose with his front paws spread wide. The women were practically screaming. “He is so cute!” “I am going to pass out! Someone catch me!” I was utterly speechless. Roman spotted me and immediately barked, launching himself into my arms. His little tail wagged proudly. I didn’t even need a translator to know he was saying, Look how awesome I am! I sighed and rubbed my temples. Roman’s arrogant, show-off personality hadn’t changed one bit. Since he turned into a dog, he acted more like the childhood friend I actually recognized. It proved my theory. There was something deeply wrong with Lily. I called my assistant into my office and handed him a file. “I need a full background check on Lily. Do it quietly. Do not let anyone know.” “Understood, Boss.” He smiled as he took the folder. “You have been smiling a lot more lately.” I paused. “Ever since your falling out with Mr. Roman, you have been ice-cold. People in the office have been terrified to even breathe around you.” My assistant secretly pointed at Roman, who was currently chasing his own tail in circles. “I think this little angel is exactly what you needed.” I let out a soft laugh. If my staff knew this little angel was actually the terrifying CEO Roman, their jaws would drop to the floor. But had I really stopped smiling because of him? I fell into deep thought. A week later, Lily showed up unannounced at my company lobby. I instinctively glanced at Roman. He didn’t react at all, just kept chewing on his glow-in-the-dark bouncy ball. But as soon as she walked in, the floating text flooded my vision again. [Our smart baby girl figured out something was wrong!] [It is all the wicked side character’s fault. The male and female lead should be doing the dirty deed right now!] [It is fine, the plot is about to get back on track. Just wait and see.] Back on track? Meaning Roman would turn into that cold, brainwashed monster again? My chest tightened painfully. Lily suddenly crouched down and pulled a small piece of jerky from her bag. “Here you go, cutie. Have a bite.” Before I could react, Roman darted forward and swallowed it whole. His eyes even gleamed with hunger. Lily smiled sweetly, reaching into the bag to give him another piece. “My dog does not eat random trash from strangers,” I said coldly, stepping between them. The comments exploded, cursing me for being an evil bitch. Lily just offered a fake, apologetic smile and left without a fight.

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1 Five years ago, a car crash killed my husband Matt and our one-year-old son Phillip. It left me with endless grief and a $300,000 debt to a loan shark. To repay it, I worked day and night. I hauled concrete, delivered food, and drove for a rideshare service, sleeping just three hours a day. My best friend Jessica told me, “The debt died with them. You’re killing yourself for nothing.” But I couldn’t bear the thought of Matt’s name being cursed. On this year’s anniversary, loan sharks found me at the cemetery. They wrecked the offerings and stole everything except one small paper gold ingot. That night, overwhelmed, I posted online: “Matt, I’m so tired. Why won’t you and Phillip visit me in my dreams?” Soon, a notification arrived from an account with a cartoon star as its avatar: “Who are you? Why are you posting pictures of me and my dad?” Phillip’s nickname had been “my little star.” Trembling, I opened the profile. The background photo showed a family: a father, a mother, and a son. The man was unmistakably Matt. The woman beside him was Jessica. … I was frozen, my fingers shaking as I typed out a reply. “That’s my dead husband and son. Who are you?” Just as I was about to hit send, the comment vanished. The account with the star avatar was suddenly set to private. A cold dread washed over me. Jessica had gotten married five years ago, right around the time Matt and Phillip had “died.” She’d said it was a quiet affair, a high-society arranged marriage that had to be kept out of the papers. Lost in my own grief, I hadn’t questioned it. I glanced at the clock. An idea sparked. I grabbed my keys and drove toward the most exclusive private elementary school in the city. My mind raced. Right after we found out I was pregnant, Matt had bought an apartment in this school district, paying in cash. He’d also made a two-hundred-thousand-dollar donation to the school for a new library. “Our son will have the absolute best education,” he had sworn. School wasn’t out yet. The security guard at the gate stopped me. “Can I help you?” I hesitated, a bitter taste in my mouth. “I’m here to pick up Phillip Pierce.” The guard eyed me suspiciously. “I know Phillip’s parents. I’ve never seen you before.” Another parent waiting nearby chimed in. “She’s probably the new nanny. Mrs. Pierce is far too glamorous to be doing school runs herself.” “That’s true,” another parent agreed. “They’re such a lovely couple. They always pick him up together. I wonder why they sent the nanny today.” I looked down at my faded blouse and worn-out jeans, a familiar wave of shame washing over me. Before I could respond, the final bell rang. A few minutes later, a black Maybach purred to a stop at the curb. Even though I had prepared myself, the man who stepped out of the driver’s seat made my vision swim. My whole body started to shake uncontrollably. It was Matt. Alive. He opened the passenger door, took Jessica’s designer handbag, and then took her hand, leading her toward the gate. I ducked behind a large oak tree, listening to the other parents greet them. “Mr. and Mrs. Pierce! Here for your boy!” “Phillip is such a wonderful child! Top of his class! I wish my kids were half as brilliant.” “Well, look at his parents! With a loving home like that, of course he’s going to be a star!” I clamped a hand over my mouth, my nails digging into my palm so hard I thought I might draw blood. I couldn’t believe this was real. After he died, I had prayed every single night just to see his face one more time in a dream. Now, seeing him here in the flesh, all I wanted was for this nightmare to end. A flood of children poured out of the school. A boy, about six or seven, came bounding out and leaped into Matt’s arms. “Mommy! Daddy! I got a hundred on my test again!” When he turned his head, I saw the small, distinct birthmark behind his ear. A choked sob escaped my lips, and tears streamed down my face. It was Phillip. My Phillip. The son who was supposed to have died in that car crash with his father. And now, my son—the baby I carried and birthed—was calling my best friend “Mommy.” The sight squeezed the air from my lungs. The pain was a physical force, threatening to tear me apart. I stepped out from behind the tree. I met Matt and Jessica’s wide, shocked eyes and said, in a voice I barely recognized as my own, “Long time no see.” 2. Matt’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t speak. He hadn’t changed a bit in five years, yet the way he looked at me—like I was a complete stranger—was a world away from the love he once held in his eyes. Jessica snapped out of her shock first, rushing forward to grab my hand, her voice a desperate whisper. “Catherine, let’s go somewhere and talk. It’s not what you think…” Looking at her, at the woman I once considered my sister, filled me with a sickening revulsion. I ripped my hand away and slapped her hard across the face. “I gave you everything, Jess. I treated you like a sister. And you stole my husband. You stole my son. How could you?” My voice rose, shaking with fury. I turned my glare on Matt. “And you! Was it fun? Watching me suffer for five years while you played house?” Matt’s face hardened, and he stepped in front of Jessica, shielding her. “If you have a problem, take it up with me. This has nothing to do with her.” The sight of him protecting her sent a fresh wave of rage and heartbreak through me, and my vision blurred with tears. Jessica and I had been inseparable since childhood. Her home was a nightmare—an alcoholic mother, a gambling father. They beat her. I was always dragging her over to my house for dinner, for homework, for safety. One time, when her father was about to hit her with a belt, I jumped in front of her. I woke up in the hospital to her crying, her eyes swollen shut. “You saved my life, Catherine,” she’d sobbed. “You’ll always be my best friend.” And now, that same best friend had stolen my entire world. My shouting had attracted a crowd of onlookers. Matt frowned, reaching for me. “This isn’t the place for this. Let’s go somewhere else to talk.” My throat was raw. I was about to refuse when a small body slammed into me, pushing me back. “You’re a monster! Don’t you hurt my mommy!” Phillip stood before me, his little face contorted in rage, looking at me like I was a wild animal. “Say you’re sorry! Or I’ll hit you!” I stared at the son I had endured so much to bring into this world, my heart aching with a bitter sorrow. Five years ago, when he was just a toddler, he was already my little protector. I remember cutting my finger on a broken glass, and he had toddled over, taking my hand in his tiny ones, whispering, “Don’t cry, Mommy. Phillip will kiss it better.” Matt had gently scolded me for being clumsy as he bandaged my finger. In that moment, I had felt like the luckiest woman alive. Now, my husband was alive and with my best friend. My son was defending her against me. The crowd went silent. Matt was the first to speak. “Catherine, I’m sorry,” he said, his voice cold and detached. “I fell in love with Jessica. The truth is, you and I… we grew too far apart. We have nothing in common anymore.” “My company needs the connections and support Jessica can provide. And Phillip needs a mother with an Ivy League education like Jess.” “I know you’ve had a hard five years. Name your price. I’ll compensate you.” His words were a knife, twisting in my gut. I let out a hollow laugh. “You’re not afraid of karma, are you, Matt?” I first met him in middle school. My father sponsored his education. He was a brilliant orphan who tutored me in his spare time. When my father’s business went bankrupt and he was sent to prison my senior year, my world shattered. Matt offered to drop out of school to repay our family’s kindness. I refused. “You’re destined for the Ivy League,” I told him. “I’m a lost cause anyway. You go. I’ll take care of my mother. I’ll support you.” I worked three jobs to pay his tuition. When I handed him the money for his first semester, he traced the calluses on my fingers, his eyes full of pain. “Catherine,” he promised, “the day I graduate, we’ll get married. I’ll take care of you forever.” He was offered a spot in a PhD program. He wanted to turn it down, but I wouldn’t let him. “My father’s dream was to see you succeed. Go. I’ll wait for you.” So I worked even harder. After he graduated, he started a company with some classmates. It grew, and he grew more distant. I, with my high school diploma, couldn’t keep up with his talk of venture capital and market shares. He had no interest in the price of groceries. But he always defended me. “Catherine paved the way for my success with her own sacrifice,” he’d say. “I’ll be grateful to her for the rest of my life.” When the news of the “car crash” came, the loan sharks showed up. That’s when I found out he’d borrowed a fortune to start his business. The weight of it all nearly broke me. I wanted to die. But I pulled through, determined to pay back every cent so he could rest in peace with his name cleared. For five years, I worked in construction, washed dishes, delivered food, and drove a taxi. I slept three hours a night. I paid it all back. And it was all a joke.

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In this post-apocalyptic wasteland, my only ticket to survival was Subject 591. He was the apex predator of the Facility. To make sure he would keep me safe when the world inevitably went to hell, I starved myself to save him extra rations. I racked my brain every day trying to make small talk and win his affection. But after all that effort, the look in his eyes when he stared at me was still the look of a beast watching its prey. A massive, ice-cold claw suddenly pinned my chest to the floor. Putrid, bloodstained fangs hovered mere inches from my nose. My entire body locked up in absolute terror. “Please don’t eat me!” My voice trembled violently. “Did you forget? I was the one who hand-fed you when you were just a baby!” 591 did not listen to a single word. Instead, his wet nose began to nuzzle against my cheek. His colossal body pressed flush against mine, and his heavy tail coiled tightly around my calf. I was completely lost. What the hell did he want from me? Just back off! 1 My vision was entirely submerged in blood-red. Agonizing screams echoed in my ears. A split second later, a searing pain tore through my flesh. I lost all consciousness and sank into a pitch-black abyss. Something hard and cold jabbed roughly against the side of my head. I snapped my eyes open. The freezing barrel of a rifle was pressed hard against my temple, digging into my skin with rhythmic, punishing shoves. “What are you standing around daydreaming for? Get back to work.” My survival instinct kicked in instantly. I bent over and began apologizing profusely to the two armed guards in front of me. One of them sneered. “Do your damn job, or I’ll throw you in the pens to feed the test subjects.” Their heavy combat boots faded down the corridor. Only then did I dare to stand up straight and carefully survey my surroundings. The hallway was immaculately clean and brightly lit. I was holding a mop and a plastic bucket, apparently right in the middle of my cleaning shift. I lifted the bucket, set it down, and looked around in utter disbelief. I pinched my thigh hard. I even slapped my own cheek. After doing this a few times, the impossible truth finally sank in. I had been reborn. The memory of being torn to pieces and chewed alive by the experimental subjects was still vividly burning in my mind. A violent shiver wracked my body, and cold sweat beaded on my forehead. In my past life, I was the janitor assigned to clean the observation cell for Subject 591. 591 was classified as a low-threat asset. Nobody in the higher-ups cared about him. Because he was utterly neglected, the researchers constantly used him for cheap entertainment. They subjected 591 to gruesome, sadistic torture. His agonizing shrieks would echo through the entire wing. But his cries never bought him any sympathy. They only made the scientists more creative with their cruelty. I watched it all happen, but I couldn’t do a single thing to stop it. I was just the lowest-ranking cleaner in the entire Facility. In this apocalyptic era, human laborers like us were dirt cheap. The moment we signed those predatory contracts just to get a daily ration of moldy bread, we signed away our freedom. We were nothing more than slaves. I had to stand by and watch them mutilate 591 until he was barely recognizable. But as 591 matured, his size exploded. His physical strength multiplied tenfold. During one of their sadistic sessions, 591 snapped his restraints and ripped the researchers into pieces. I tried to run, but 591 dragged me back. I begged for my life. I sobbed and swore I had nothing to do with it, that I never hurt him. His chilling voice still echoed in my ears. “Did you really think standing by and watching makes you innocent?” I took a deep, shaky breath, gripped my mop, and started walking toward 591’s cell. His room was in the deepest, most neglected sector of the Facility. It took a winding twenty-minute walk to get there. The automated doors hissed open. My eyes instantly locked onto the massive, cylindrical containment pod made of reinforced glass in the center of the room. They called it an “ecological habitat,” but it was really just a few pathetic rocks and some dead grass scattered across a concrete floor. The room was empty. I put down my cleaning supplies and carefully approached the glass. A tiny, pitch-black ball of fur was huddled against a rock. He looked like a stray puppy. Right now, 591 wasn’t even the size of a football. He looked so fragile that any random guy off the street could easily crush him. But I knew the truth. In the future, 591 would grow to be larger than an armored transport van. The spikes running down his spine would be a hundred times harder than tempered steel, and humans would be as fragile as wet paper under his claws. Sensing my shadow, 591 lifted his head. A harmless, fuzzy little face looked up at me. His dark, crimson eyes locked onto me without blinking. He looked me up and down, scanning me the exact way a predator sizes up its food. Because of his low threat level, 591’s cell was incredibly basic. There were no wall-mounted turrets, and no guards were posted at the door. I was probably the only person in this entire hellhole who knew exactly what a nightmare he would become. I didn’t want to die. I wanted to live. I wanted to end this slave-like existence and escape this place for good. And there was only one way to make that happen. I had to make 591 my best friend. 2 While I was busy observing 591, the sound of deliberately muffled footsteps echoed from the corridor outside. I jumped, immediately retreating to the corner where I had left my mop bucket. “Why is there someone in here?” I pretended to be startled, taking a step back and keeping my head bowed respectfully. “Just a janitor? Want me to kick him out?” “Nah, leave him. He’s just a cleaner. What’s he gonna do, snitch? I’ll slit his throat in a heartbeat.” The man’s voice trailed off as he made a slicing motion across his neck, drawing cruel laughter from his two buddies. They ignored me completely and walked straight toward 591’s containment pod. “Are you sure nobody is gonna find out?” “Relax, have I ever steered you wrong?” “Man, look at those red eyes. I really want to carve them out…” My grip tightened around the mop handle. Every muscle in my body pulled taut. I couldn’t let them touch 591. My brain worked in overdrive, desperately searching for a way to stop them. The control panel lit up under their fingers. The three of them began arguing excitedly about where to make the first incision. Just as they finalized their sadistic little game, I stepped forward. It felt like walking to my own execution. “Excuse me…” My weak voice cut through their twisted excitement. All three heads snapped toward me, their eyes locking onto the frail, malnourished cleaner standing in the corner. “They installed a new surveillance system in the containment pod…” I tried with every fiber of my being to sound calm. The air in the room instantly turned freezing. Their eyes cut into me like jagged knives, full of doubt and disgust. “A new surveillance system?” the leader frowned, glancing at his buddy. “I don’t know anything about that…” “Who ordered that?” “Just shut it off.” “I can’t. There’s no override switch on this panel…” The hairs on my arms stood straight up. My cheap uniform was soaked in cold sweat. In this Facility, a researcher could have me tossed into the mutant feeding pits with a single word. I instantly regretted my impulsive move. My instinct was to drop to my knees and apologize. But dying to 591 later, or being executed for insubordination now. It was a death sentence either way. That thought ironically centered me. I faked a terrified flinch, hugging the mop handle tightly to my chest. My voice was a tiny, frightened squeak. “Director Blackwood ordered maintenance to install it this morning.” “Who?” Their patience had completely run out, their faces contorted with rage. “Director Blackwood.” The moment that name left my mouth, the room fell dead silent. Director Blackwood was the absolute sovereign of this Facility. He controlled the food, the water, and whether we lived to see tomorrow. They stared at me in disbelief. “The Director?” I nodded frantically. Getting a firm confirmation, the men slowly pulled their hands away from the control panel. “Why would he suddenly want cameras here? 591 isn’t even a priority asset.” “Dammit, is this rat lying to us?” “Could it be because of what happened last week?” “You mean the guys who got caught running unauthorized vivisections?” “Tch. So the Director doesn’t trust us anymore? He’s monitoring everything himself?” “Probably. There were rumors a few days ago about hidden cameras going up.” “Why didn’t we get a memo about it?” “Are you an idiot? Why would the boss send out a warning if he’s trying to catch rulebreakers?” “This is bullshit!” The leader kicked the control console violently. “I really needed to blow off some steam today…” “Forget it, let’s just go. Don’t let the Director catch us down here.” I went back to slowly mopping the floor, keeping them in my peripheral vision until the heavy metal doors hissed shut behind them. Once their footsteps vanished, a massive breath shuddered out of my lungs. I collapsed onto the cold concrete floor, my heart hammering violently against my ribs. If they had noticed even a single flaw in my lie, I would be monster food right now. As my heart rate finally settled, I turned my gaze back to the containment pod. Pressed against the glass, two tiny, round crimson eyes were quietly watching me. They were filled with blatant hostility and deep confusion. His fur was patchy and dry, and I could clearly see his ribs protruding beneath his skin. Food was incredibly scarce in this apocalypse. Even the high-priority monsters barely got enough to eat. 591, an off-the-books reject, was practically starving to death. I needed to get him some food. Sharing a meal is the universal fast-track to building trust. Whether you’re dealing with a human or a feral beast, food is love. I crawled over to the glass to start farming approval points. “Hey.” “I’m Nate.” I pointed at my chest. “I’m a friendly human. I’m not going to hurt you.” 591 tilted his head, studying me. “Don’t be scared. They’re gone. You’re safe now. I—” A voice suddenly echoed inside my skull, sending a violent chill down my spine. “Did you honestly think playing savior would make me spare your life?” I scrambled backward, staring wildly around the empty room. It was just me. I thought I was losing my mind, so I tried speaking to 591 again. “Hey…” “Idiot.” I was completely speechless. Our eyes met through the glass. Inside the pod, sitting on that fuzzy, adorable little face, was a look of pure, unadulterated disgust and mockery. 3 I didn’t say a word. The only entity capable of speaking into my mind was 591. He sat perfectly still inside his enclosure. His tiny, puppy-like appearance severely contrasted with the deep, resonant, masculine voice echoing in my head. “It’s just you and me in here.” In that exact moment, I knew with terrifying certainty: 591 had been reborn, too. My brain completely short-circuited. 591 didn’t open his mouth, but the voice reverberated through my mind. “Though, keeping you alive isn’t entirely off the table.” He lowered his mental voice into a dark, seductive whisper. “If I’m in a good mood, I might even take you with me when I break out of this cage.” “You’ve been trapped in this hellhole for a long time, haven’t you?” He casually licked his front paw, issuing a commanding order without a shred of hesitation. “I need food.” “Bring me food.” Feeding him was literally step one of my master plan anyway. “Deal.” But my shift wasn’t over, and I couldn’t afford to get written up. I immediately went back to furiously scrubbing the floors. In my peripheral vision, 591 stopped licking his paw. He paced impatiently. “Why are you still standing there? I said I need food.” I didn’t possess telepathy, so I had to answer out loud. “I have to finish my job. If I don’t finish, I don’t get my daily rations, and they’ll beat me.” “Tch.” 591 scratched at the concrete floor but stopped rushing me. He just sat there, monitoring every single move I made. At noon, I lined up at the mess hall with my roommate. The food was a joke. A stale, rock-hard protein biscuit, a spoonful of pickled cabbage, and a bowl of broth that tasted like warm dishwater. That was our entire caloric intake. The janitors did the most grueling, hazardous work in the Facility, but we received the smallest rations. Nobody dared to complain. The cabbage and the broth were impossible to smuggle, so I wolfed them down. I slipped the protein biscuit into my pocket and hid it in my bunk. We only got three meals a day, and breakfast was ironically the best one. It was just the leftover scraps from the guards and researchers from the night before, reheated by the kitchen staff. I stockpiled a little bit from every meal. By the end of the day, I had managed to hide two biscuits and half a synthetic meat stick. I had the food. Now I just had to figure out how to feed it to 591. “Stupid.” 591 looked at me with immense disappointment, tapping his claw against the glass. “Every cell has an automated feeding chute. Over there.” Because 591’s cell was an outdated model, the mechanics were simple. It only took his brief explanation for me to figure it out. I pulled the hidden food out from the bottom of my bucket and shoved it into the delivery pipe. I hit the button, and the biscuits and the meat stick dropped right into his enclosure. 591 walked over and poked the rock-hard biscuits with his paw. The biscuit flattened under his force, leaving deep claw marks in the dough. “This is it?” 591 glared at me, the spikes along his spine bristling with irritation. “Are you screwing with me?” The razor-sharp quills ran from his neck all the way down to the tip of his tail. They weren’t fully matured yet, but they were still lethal enough to impale a human. “No, no, I swear! They barely give us anything to eat…” Right on cue, my stomach let out a loud, aggressive growl, providing solid evidence that I wasn’t lying to him. 591 went silent. He didn’t ask any more questions. He leaned down and sniffed the food. Confirming it wasn’t poisoned, his defensive posture relaxed. The spikes flattened against his back, and he returned to looking like a harmless puppy. Starving, he wolfed down the stale biscuits with a feral ferocity. Once the biscuits were gone, he turned his attention to the synthetic meat. As he was chewing, his eyes locked onto mine through the glass. I hadn’t forgotten my mission to build maximum trust. I leaned close to the glass, doing my best to make sure he understood exactly how much I was suffering to feed him. “The cafeteria gives us barely anything. It’s usually just watery gruel or these little rocks they call bread.” “We do manual labor all day. It’s never enough food.” “But I’d rather starve. I’d rather work until I’m dizzy, nauseous, and my vision goes black, than watch you go hungry in here…” 591 just stared at me. Without breaking eye contact, he picked up his meat stick, turned around, and pointed his furry rear end directly at my face. 4 591 rarely initiated conversations with me. Occasionally, out of sheer boredom, he would observe me and mimic my movements for entertainment. He would pace around his pod, using his tail to sweep the floor exactly the way I used my broom. If I stopped, he would stop, and we would just stare at each other. The second I picked the broom back up, his tail would start sweeping again. When I inevitably got annoyed and started yelling at him to stop copying me, he would bare his fangs in a wolfish grin, clearly laughing at me. My temples throbbed with irritation. I decided to give him a taste of his own medicine. I started mimicking him. Whatever he did, I copied. He stretched his front legs. I stretched my arms. He let out a low howl. I howled back. He licked the glass. I leaned forward and licked the exact same spot on my side of the glass. 591 froze. He tilted his head, his tail flicking in confusion. “What the hell are you doing?” I parroted him out loud. “What the hell are you doing?” In the end, I couldn’t tell if he was furious or just disturbed. He blew a hard puff of air through his nose and retreated to his dark corner. Having won the psychological warfare, I felt fantastic. I hummed a weird little tune as I got back to work. As the days turned into weeks, I started treating him like a captive therapist, dumping my daily complaints on him whenever no one was around. “I’m telling you, there’s not a single decent human being in this entire place. The other janitors keep dumping their sectors on me.” “Thank God I’m quick on my feet and made up a lie, or I wouldn’t have gotten a single minute of sleep last night.” “And don’t even get me started on the researchers. They act like they’re gods just because…” 591 raised both his front paws and clamped them firmly over his fuzzy ears, making it painfully clear he was rejecting my trauma dump. I tapped on the glass. “What’s your problem? You don’t want to listen?” He pressed his paws harder against his head. I let out a heavy sigh. “Come on, just let me vent.” “Aren’t you terrified of me? I’ve killed you before.” To say I wasn’t scared would be a massive lie. But in this sprawling, freezing, metallic tomb of a Facility, 591 was my only friend. “Yeah, but nobody else in here is willing to listen to me.” The furry ears twitched. 591 slowly lowered his paws, giving me a look of profound resignation. After getting everything off my chest, I felt a million times lighter. “If you’ve got anything bothering you, you can tell me too.” 591 flicked his ears, his tone laced with sarcasm. “I’m locked in a glass box twenty-four hours a day. Aside from the complete loss of freedom, what could possibly be bothering me?” “How did they even catch you? Doesn’t Director Blackwood only order the retrieval of high-tier apex mutants?” As far as I knew, the Facility never brought in infants. They always captured adult pairs to breed and experiment on them. 591’s mental voice grew dangerously low. “Humans used long-range artillery to butcher my parents and my siblings.” “When they came to harvest the corpses, they found me in the den.” “The humans said my bone density was highly unusual. They said I would be extremely valuable.” “They said once I grew up, they would skin me and strip my bones…” Putting myself in his shoes, a suffocating wave of despair washed over me. My lips parted, but it took a long time to finally force the words out. “They’re going to pay for what they did.” “I expected you to defend your own kind.” 591 mocked. “Don’t all humans want to eradicate us?” “Not all of us.” The apocalypse started eight years ago. Flora and fauna underwent massive, grotesque mutations, overrunning the cities and hunting humans to near extinction. I didn’t know the exact scientific cause, but it was almost certainly due to global pollution. At the end of the day, humanity brought this upon itself. 591 looked at me. The mockery in his eyes faded. “What about me? I tore you apart.” “If you didn’t think I could break you out of here, wouldn’t you want me dead?” That was a complicated question. For once, I actually used my brain. “It’s a lie to say the thought never crossed my mind. But honestly…” 591 watched me intensely, his claws curling slightly against the floor. “If I were in your shoes, I wouldn’t just kill the janitor. I’d slaughter every single breathing thing in this Facility.” This unexpected answer made 591 tilt his head in confusion. “I’d make the blood flow like a river! I’d make them suffer a thousand times worse than what they did to me!” I let out an evil, unhinged laugh. It actually startled 591 so badly his ears pinned flat against his skull. “Ugh, it’s too depressing. Don’t ask me these heavy questions anymore.” I grabbed my mop and got back to scrubbing.

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1 The post-holiday haze had barely lifted when my phone buzzed, the name on the screen a surprise. It was Victoria, the CEO of the company I had just left. I swiped to answer, and her voice, sharp and furious, immediately assaulted my ear. “Where the hell are you, Simon? The project deadline is today. If this falls apart, it’s on you. Get over here, now.” Her tone was a whip crack, an absolute command, as if I were still her employee on a 24/7 leash. Before I could even get a word in, she hung up. A moment later, HR called. It was Greg, the department head, his voice laced with a rehearsed disappointment. “Simon, what’s going on? You haven’t shown up. Victoria is losing it. You’ve always been the most reliable guy here. Even if you’re pissed about the bonus, you can’t just ghost us.” A dry laugh escaped my lips. I explained, patiently, that my absence wasn’t a protest. I had officially resigned and completed my exit paperwork before the holidays. … “Oh, that,” Greg’s voice was suddenly light, dismissive. “Yeah, I saw the paperwork. So did Victoria. But you know how crazy it gets before the break. We never had a chance to really discuss it. Now that the holidays are over, let’s sit down and talk, okay?” “Talk about what?” I asked. My resignation was finalized. As far as I was concerned, there was nothing left to say. “Your terms, obviously!” Greg jumped in. “Victoria is willing to bump your salary by two hundred a month. In this economy, that’s a generous offer. Do the math, that’s almost twenty-five hundred extra a year.” I did the math, but not on his pathetic offer. I thought about the slackers in my department, the ones who clocked out at five on the dot and never saw a project through. They each got a ten-thousand-dollar bonus. Last year, I single-handedly generated millions in revenue for the company. The flagship project I managed from scratch had an eight-million-dollar contract. I did the work of three people, logged more overtime than anyone in the department, and never once called in sick. But at the annual awards ceremony, every project I bled for was credited to Alex, my junior. He walked away with a fifty-thousand-dollar bonus and the latest iPhone. My bonus? Fifty dollars. The absurdity of it was still staggering. “Greg,” I asked, my voice flat. “Why was my bonus fifty dollars?” The line went silent for a few seconds. “Look, Simon,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “You have to understand, the company has its policies. You do great work, but you can be a little intense. You’re not much of a team player, you always skip the team-building events, you barely talk to your colleagues. The bonus has to reflect your overall performance.” I had to laugh, a bitter, angry sound. That weekend hike? I was working. That Friday happy hour? Finishing a proposal. That karaoke night? I declined because I had a major client meeting the next morning. Every single time I missed a “team event,” it was to do my job better. And now, they were using that to crucify me? And the others? What were they doing while I was working? Drinking, singing, posting filtered group selfies with captions like #workfamily and #teamgoals. So that was “overall performance.” “Any other reasons?” I pressed. Greg hesitated, then lowered his voice. “Well, Victoria also mentioned… that a couple of your projects last year had some, uh, negative client feedback.” “Which client? What feedback? When did they complain? Why am I hearing about this for the first time?” The questions shot out of me, rapid-fire. “I’m… not sure about the specifics. It was just hearsay.” Hearsay. I heard he did a bad job. I heard there were complaints. I heard he wasn’t a team player. So they gave me a bonus that was a slap in the face. The last flicker of hope died. “I understand, Greg,” I said, my voice calm, empty. “But as I said, I’ve already resigned. I followed the proper channels.” “Simon, don’t be so stubborn! Just listen to me—” “Greg,” I cut him off. “For seven years, I never missed a day of work, never took a sick day, never refused overtime. I gave this company everything. If you need me to assist with the transition, I will. Otherwise, don’t call me again.” “Simon Chen!” His voice turned shrill. “What is that supposed to mean? I’m trying to help you, and you’re throwing it back in my face!” I hung up. I wasn’t going to let my former company poison the first day of my new life. Five minutes later, my phone buzzed again. A video call request from Alex, the subordinate who stole my award. I declined. A stream of messages immediately followed. “Dude, why aren’t you answering?” “Victoria’s on a rampage. You should really text her back.” “You’re usually the guy everyone can count on. Why are you being so difficult? You’re making things hard for her.” I stared at the screen, feeling nothing. I had personally trained Alex, pulled him up from an internship. I taught him how to handle clients, how to fix problems on the fly. In return, he stabbed me in the back. Another long message popped up, a tone of frustration bleeding through. “Look, man, I know you’re upset about the bonus, but you can’t blame the company. Times are tough for everyone. Victoria actually really values you. If you quit over a little bit of money, it’s going to look bad. Besides, the company invested so much in you. Can you really walk away with a clear conscience?” Conscience. I stared at the word and almost laughed. I typed back a reply. “Who secretly copied my client files while I was out sick? Who repackaged my creative concepts and presented them as his own in the weekly meeting? Who bought the entire department boba before the annual review and ‘forgot’ me?” “You’re the last person on earth who gets to talk to me about conscience.” Less than three minutes later, he responded, his tone now condescending, as if scolding a foolish child. “What’s the point of bringing all that up? You’re only hurting yourself by making a scene. Where do you think you’re going to go? There are kids with Master’s degrees who can’t find jobs. You’re thirty, single, with a Bachelor’s. All the ‘accomplishments’ on your resume came from the resources this company gave you.” “Greg already said it. If you don’t come back today, Victoria is going to put the word out. No one in this industry will touch you.” A threat. I scoffed. My phone buzzed again. “Dude? You gonna say something? We’re all waiting.” I opened the chat and sent one last reply. A single, passive-aggressive smiley face emoji. Then I blocked him and got out of bed. Today was my first day at the Veridian Group. My new employer was the client from the eight-million-dollar project. The division head, Ms. Croft, was sharp, no-nonsense, and a pleasure to work with. When she’d heard about the bonus fiasco, she had sent me a message: Simon, we desperately need someone with your talent. You’re wasted there. Name your salary. The offer is open whenever you’re ready. I looked at my reflection in the mirror. This year, I was going to live differently. I walked through the glass doors of the Veridian Group. The receptionist recognized me. “Hey, Simon! Ms. Croft is waiting for you in her office.” Her office door was open. She looked up from her computer and smiled. “Simon, you’re here. Have a seat.” I sat across from her. “There’s something I’d like to discuss with you,” she said, getting straight to the point. I sat up straighter. “Of course.” “That eight-million-dollar project from your old company. It’s time for the final acceptance review. I was going to assign it to someone else, but you managed it from start to finish. Nobody knows it better.” “So, I’d like you to go,” she said, her gaze steady. “Go to your old office this morning and conduct the final project review.” I met her direct gaze and thought of the day I resigned, how Victoria hadn’t even looked up from her screen. I thought of Alex on stage, his voice thick with fake emotion as he accepted my award. I thought of Greg telling me my bonus was a reflection of my poor social skills. I thought of the barrage of calls this morning—commands, threats, and finally, impotent rage. A slow smile spread across my face. “Absolutely. I’d love to see what their first day back looks like.” After leaving her office, I went to HR and completed my onboarding. They handed me a new ID badge. It read: Project Director: Simon Chen. Back at my new desk, my phone rang. It was Victoria. For seven years, that number had been a harbinger of doom—late-night emergencies, weekend work orders, last-minute tasks while I was on vacation. Every single time, I had answered immediately with a “Yes, Victoria,” “Right away, Victoria,” “No problem, Victoria.” I answered. “Simon Chen!” she snarled. “So you’ve finally decided to grow a pair? Ignoring my calls, blocking everyone! You think you’re hot stuff now?” “Let me tell you something,” she seethed. “If you don’t show your face here today, I’m firing you for job abandonment! I’ll put it in your permanent file, and we’ll see who’s brave enough to hire you then!” Fired. A hollow laugh echoed in my mind. “Victoria,” I said, my voice perfectly level. “I’m on my way to your office right now.” Her tone instantly shifted to smug triumph. “Hah. Took you long enough. Get here. I’m waiting.” When I received Ms. Croft’s offer, I didn’t accept right away. But after the humiliation of the awards night and the insult of the fifty-dollar bonus, I lay awake until dawn. And in those dark, quiet hours, one thing became crystal clear. My old company didn’t value talent. It valued sycophants. It was a place where you worked, you took the blame, and you watched from the shadows as someone else stepped into the spotlight you built. That night, I made my decision. My thoughts returned to the present. I stood up and clipped my new ID badge to my shirt. I wondered what their faces would look like when I walked in not as a supplicant, but as the client. The taxi pulled up to the familiar office building. I pushed through the revolving doors. Nothing had changed. I was only a few steps inside when Greg appeared, holding a mug of tea. “Well, well, look what the cat dragged in,” he sneered, sizing me up. “After that attitude on the phone this morning, I thought you were off to conquer the world. What happened? Flew a little too close to the sun and came crashing back down?” I just smirked and said nothing. My silence seemed to fuel him. “What’s the matter? Playing nice now? Where’s all that fire from this morning?” He deliberately glanced at my chest. “Whoa, what’s this? That’s not our company’s ID. Simon, did you get lost? Or wait—” His eyes lit up with a look of mock revelation. “Oh, I get it! You’re a food delivery guy now! That blue lanyard, that’s what they all wear, right? Hahahaha!” The badge had flipped over, so the company name was hidden. Alex’s voice joined the chorus. “Dude, you’re finally here! C’mon, you’ve made your point. We need you to wrap this project up. The client is sending someone over any minute.” He reached for my arm. I swatted his hand away. His face hardened. “I’m trying to help you,” he hissed. “Victoria’s in a foul mood. Just finish the work and don’t make it worse. The last thing you need is the client showing up and watching you get chewed out.” “This project?” I said with a laugh. “I thought you completed it independently. That’s what Victoria said at the ceremony. That you carried it all on your own. An outstanding job.” “Your award, your bonus. Why do you need me to finish it?” Greg chimed in. “Come on, Simon, now’s not the time for that. Just get to work!” I didn’t move. The standoff was broken by a roar from the main office. “Where is Simon Chen? Get him in here, now!” Victoria stormed out, her heels clicking angrily on the floor. She gave me a long, contemptuous once-over. “So, you decided to crawl back,” she said, looking down her nose at me. I nodded calmly. “I’m here on business.” “Hah!” she scoffed. “I’ve seen your type a million times. You work a little hard, feel a little slighted, and throw a tantrum hoping the boss will beg you to stay. Let me tell you, it doesn’t work! The world keeps spinning without you. You think the company will collapse? What a joke!” She planted her hands on her hips. “And here you are. Back with your tail between your legs. Late on the first day, too. I’m docking your entire month’s pay. Maybe that will teach you some respect.” She stared at me, waiting for the familiar, submissive apology. Instead, I laughed. “Are you sure you want to take this tone with me?” Alex piped up. “Victoria, calm down. Simon’s probably just in a bad mood. I asked him to work, and he just snapped at me.” Victoria glared at me. “A bad mood? You think you can just abandon your responsibilities because you’re in a bad mood? This is a workplace, not your home. No one’s going to coddle you!” She waved a dismissive hand. “Get yourself together. The client is sending someone today to review the project. You’re handling the meeting. They’re the ones signing the checks, so be nice and don’t screw it up.” “Victoria,” I said calmly. “The client is already here.” She froze. “Here? Where?” “Right here.” I flipped my ID badge over. The three of them stared at the words printed on the plastic. Their faces froze.

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