Category: English

The first day of my reincarnation, I realized the Memory-Wipe Potion was watered down. Not only did I have all my memories from my past life, but I also watched as a woman swapped me with another baby girl. Oh, hell no. The life of wealth and luxury I’d spent lifetimes of karma points to secure was being stolen right before my eyes? Not on my watch. Eighteen years later, a girl stormed into my family’s mansion, claiming she was my parents’ real daughter. I just smiled. This was my destiny, and no one was taking it from me. 1 After 800 years of brown-nosing the Administrator of the Afterlife, he finally took pity on me and granted me a chance at reincarnation. I sifted through the celestial archives for ages, finally cashing in lifetimes of good karma for one shot at a life of absolute luxury and happiness. I proudly presented the Fated Life file to the Administrator. “This one. She’s the one I want to be.” Just as I was giggling to myself about the worry-free future ahead, I saw her—a woman, her movements furtive, carefully swapping me with another baby in the nursery. Panic seized me. This could not happen. The second she was gone, I started screaming. I cried until my throat was raw, my voice a shredded mess. Finally, a nurse noticed. She gently scooped me up. “What’s wrong, little one? Are you hungry?” I wailed louder. “Not hungry? Did you wet your diaper, then?” I screamed my head off. “Then what is it?” I was sweating with desperation, wishing I could just open my mouth and tell her what happened. I pleaded, I begged, but all that came out was a pathetic, high-pitched cry. Just as I was about to give up, the head nurse walked in. “Wait a minute,” she said, her brow furrowed. “I don’t remember this baby being in this bassinet.” I stopped crying. And then, I let out a loud, happy gurgle, looking right at her. The sight made both nurses laugh. “What a smart little thing!” The head nurse checked the birth charts, comparing weights and times. Then, her face went pale as she swapped me back with the other baby. The younger nurse looked like she was about to faint. “Oh, thank god you noticed. I can’t even imagine the fallout from a mistake that huge.” The head nurse looked at her sternly. “You have to be more careful. This is the Clark Corporation heiress. If we’d sent the wrong baby home, we’d all be finished.” The stone in my chest finally dissolved. After that day, I never cried again. No one was ever going to steal my life. 2 Coming home with my parents to a sprawling mansion, I smiled with deep satisfaction. I was the heiress to the Clark Corporation. They named me Lila Clark. I also had an older brother, Leo, who was completely and utterly obsessed with his little sister. I’d chosen him specifically. In my last life, my brother had beaten me to death. This time, I desperately wanted a brother who would love me. When I was little, Leo, who was already in elementary school, would wait for me outside my kindergarten every single day. He’d always have a piping hot pretzel tucked inside his coat for me, leaving a red mark on his chest from the heat. When a boy at kindergarten pinched me, Leo rounded up his entire class and beat the kid half to death. When I was in middle school, girls would ask me to pass him love letters and little cakes. He’d throw the letters in the trash and give the cakes to me. “Lila” was the first and last word out of his mouth every day. Growing up steeped in so much love, I’d almost forgotten the chaos of my birth. But of course, on my 18th birthday, the other girl showed up to claim her prize. The party was a massive affair, held at our family’s five-star hotel. A string orchestra played on the main floor while guests mingled, champagne flutes clinking, all wishing me a happy 18th. The presents were stacked to the ceiling like a magnificent Christmas tree. Designer watches, luxury cars, someone even gifted me an entire oceanfront villa. A-list celebrities came to sing “Happy Birthday.” Every important person in the city was there. Luxury brands sent over custom-made gowns. A fleet of drones lit up the night sky, forming a portrait of my face and the words “Happy Birthday, Lila!” I was standing on a balcony, looking down at the glittering crowd below, when she burst in. A girl in a plaid shirt and washed-out jeans pointed a finger straight at my face and screamed, “I’m the real Clark princess!” Her birth mother had swapped us. “Lila Clark is a fraud!” The champagne flute was still in my hand. A shocked silence fell over the crowd. She said her name was Jenna. 3 It was the ultimate gossip-worthy moment. My mother glanced at my father. He shook his head frantically, holding up three fingers in a solemn oath. “I swear, I don’t know that woman! Lila is my only precious daughter!” A small smile played on my lips as I slipped into character. “Mom? Dad? What’s going on?” My mother wrapped a protective arm around my shoulders. “Don’t you worry, sweetheart. We’ll get to the bottom of this.” The next second, Jenna lunged, grabbing my arm and shoving me backward. I stumbled right into the seven-tiered birthday cake. Sticky buttercream ruined my custom designer gown. Gasps rippled through the guests. I struggled to my feet, dazed, and stared at the woman whose face was contorted with a furious jealousy. My parents rushed to pull me up, gently wiping the frosting from my face. My father’s voice was thunderous as he turned on Jenna. “I don’t care who you are! To cause such a scene at a Clark event… it’s clear your mother taught you nothing! Have you no manners?” Jenna seemed momentarily stunned by his authority, but then she latched onto his arm. “Dad! I’m your real daughter! This impostor should be thrown out! She stole my life for eighteen years! Why does she get a party like this?” Her eyes welled up with tears. She looked utterly pitiful. “Today is my birthday, too,” she sobbed. “And I’ve never, not once in my life, had a real birthday party.” My mother helped me up, her expression pained, before turning to Jenna with a rare, severe tone. “Let’s put aside the fact that you’ve come here with absolutely no proof. Even if you were our biological daughter, we would never acknowledge you after a stunt like this! You have no class, no decorum! Look at where you are!” My mother was always gentle; she never spoke harshly. This time, she was truly furious. But something felt off. Something was missing. Where was Leo? I hadn’t seen him all morning. Normally, he’d be glued to my side by now, telling me how beautiful his little sister looked. Thinking back, he’d been distant lately. Could it be? Did he already know about Jenna? My father shot a look at his assistant, who quickly took the microphone and tried to get the party back on track. The rest of us retreated to a conference room in the back. My parents’ brows were knitted with worry. The last eighteen years had been too perfect. This was the scene I had been waiting for. 4 I never knew the identity of the woman who had tried to steal my life. But I knew, with absolute certainty, that she would show up one day. Just as I was lost in thought, the door opened and Leo walked in. “Mom, Dad,” he said, his voice flat. “We’ve been pampering the wrong person for eighteen years. Jenna is our family. She’s my real sister.” Whoa. The brother I’d hand-picked for his sister-doting personality was malfunctioning? Then I remembered. He doted on his sister, not on me. Now that Jenna was his sister, I was just an obstacle. Heh. Interesting. Jenna, now sitting on the sofa, had dropped her aggressive act entirely. Tears streamed down her face, a picture of tragic beauty. She must have just learned the truth herself and rushed here to claim her family, completely losing her composure in the process. Rule number one of the Clark family: never, under any circumstances, tarnish the family’s reputation. In our circle, appearances were everything. My mother spoke first. “Leo! What are you talking about? Are you saying you knew she was your sister?” “Yes. The first time I saw her, I saw the birthmark on her arm.” “I saw it when she was a baby. I remember.” I remembered, too. During the brief time we were switched, my father had brought a five-year-old Leo in to see the new baby. He actually remembered. “So! Lila was the one who was switched!” For a moment, my parents were speechless. Leo pressed on. “I can’t let my sister live like that out on the streets. She has to come live with us.” The brother who had cherished me for 18 years spoke with such chilling detachment. My father sighed. “We need to investigate this properly. In the meantime, this young lady can stay at the villa upstate. After we have the facts, we’ll decide if she’s moving in.” My dear old dad! He was the best. Leo Clark! This means war! But Leo wasn’t done. “No! I won’t have Jenna living so far away! It’s not convenient for us to take care of her. You have no idea how hard her life has been! You haven’t seen the place she lives in!” My mother hesitated. “She can stay here, I suppose. It’s not like we don’t have the room. But Lila isn’t leaving. Even if she isn’t my biological child, I raised her for eighteen years. I won’t be separated from her!” Leo shot back, “Mom! She usurped Jenna’s life of luxury for eighteen years! It’s time for her to go back to where she belongs!” The adoration in my brother’s eyes was gone. In its place was a burning rage, directed at the person who had stolen 18 years of wealth and privilege from his real sister.

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At the final presentation for our startup incubator competition, Joss’s childhood friend, Hailey, demanded to be made team leader. She needed the extra academic honors it would grant to secure a full-ride scholarship to the graduate program. For the good of the project, I refused. She wasn’t qualified. In a fit of rage, she dropped out of the competition and let her parents drag her back to their dead-end town in the rust belt to be married off. I took the reins, and our team won first place. We all got offered spots in the MBA program, and our venture became the talk of the business school. Later, I married Joss. When our company went public, we celebrated on a yacht. As I stood by the railing, six months pregnant, Joss shoved me into the churning black water. He just watched as I drowned. I screamed, my lungs filling with saltwater, “Why?” His face was a mask of cold fury. “If you hadn’t been so selfish, if you hadn’t stolen that leadership spot from her, Hailey would never have been forced into that marriage. She wouldn’t have been beaten to death by her husband. This is what you owe her.” I opened my eyes again, and I was back. Back on the day it all began. … “Lila, please,” a familiar, cloying voice whined. “I’m just a few points short of qualifying for the Dean’s Fellowship. The team leader position in the incubator competition comes with a huge honors bonus. Can you just… let me have it?” The words hit me like a physical blow. I flinched, my eyes darting to the clock on the wall. I was back. I had been reborn into the exact moment Hailey made her demand. In my first life, I had considered the facts. Hailey wasn’t a business major. She had no experience. My parents had promised to invest in our project and connect us with industry titans for mentorship. I couldn’t risk it. I had to refuse her, telling her it wasn’t a good fit. I tried to soften the blow, explaining that if the team did well, we would all be recognized, maybe even all get fellowships. But she took it as a personal insult. A humiliation. She accused me of looking down on her, dropped out of university, and went home with her parents to be married off. After she left, I used my family’s connections to pull in a staggering amount of seed funding and resources. We crushed the competition. Our entire team was offered the Dean’s Fellowship, and we became rising stars in the tech startup scene. Three years later, I married Joss. By the time I was pregnant with our first child, Joss had taken over the reins of my family’s company, and our own startup had just gone public. He was on top of the world, a celebrated mogul. He suggested a private celebration on a yacht, just the two of us. Then, when my back was turned, he kicked me into the sea. The blood from my womb, from our child, blossomed in the dark water like a horrifying crimson flower. I begged him to save our baby, but he just laughed, a cruel, sharp sound, and hurled a heavy block of stone towards my head. “If you hadn’t been so damn selfish and forced Hailey out,” he’d snarled, his voice a venomous hiss, “she wouldn’t have been married off, pregnant, and beaten to death. You owe her this, Lila.” Only in my last moments did I understand. He had hated me, truly hated me, for all those years. “Lila?” Joss’s sharp voice pulled me back to the present. He frowned, grabbing my arm. “Did you hear us? Hailey needs this more than you do. Just give her the spot.” I wrenched my arm away, my gaze shifting from his impatient face to Hailey’s perfectly crafted expression of pitiful vulnerability. A cold, bitter laugh escaped my lips. “Let me get this straight,” I said, my voice dripping with ice. “When we were forming this team, didn’t we all agree? Whoever brings in the funding, whoever contributes the most, gets to be the leader. Now that I’ve secured the investors, you want to kick me to the curb?” Hailey’s eyes instantly welled with tears. “That’s not what I mean, Lila! I just want a chance to stay in school. I’m from a poor family… If I don’t get that fellowship, my parents will force me to go home and marry some old man. Please, just have some pity on me.” And then, for dramatic effect, she sank to her knees before me. The theatrical gesture immediately drew the attention of everyone in the common room. Classmates started to drift over, their curiosity piqued. Hailey, sensing her audience, began to sob even more pathetically. “Lila, I don’t want to go back to that dead-end town and marry some stranger! Please, don’t force me to drop out of school!” The onlookers, hearing her desperate plea, turned on me. “Lila, what the hell are you doing? Why are you trying to force her to drop out? That’s unbelievably cruel.” “Just because her family doesn’t have money doesn’t mean you can bully her like this!” “Wow, Lila. I knew your family was well-off, but I didn’t think you were the type to throw your weight around. This is disgusting.” Joss put a hand on my shoulder, his voice a low, patronizing murmur. “Lila, I know you can be a little… spoiled sometimes, but this is about Hailey’s entire future. You can’t ruin her life over something so small. It’s just a title. What’s the big deal? It’s not like it means that much to you.” His words ignited a firestorm in my chest. It’s just a title? When you all used my leadership as an excuse to dump the work on me, saying, “You’re the leader, you have to take responsibility,” it was more than a title then. All those all-nighters I pulled writing the business plan, where was Hailey? When I had to humiliate myself, begging for meetings with dozens of venture capital firms, drinking until I threw up at networking events to secure our funding, where was Hailey then? And now, with the finish line in sight, when she wants to swoop in and claim the glory, it suddenly becomes “just a title.” “I am not forcing her to do anything,” I stated, my voice dangerously calm. “And let’s be clear: I secured every dollar of our funding and every partnership we have. On what grounds does she deserve to replace me?” Joss scoffed. “Oh, stop acting like you’re the only reason we got funded, Lila. They invested because the team itself is brilliant. Because I’m on the team. Hailey could have done it just as easily. Hell, she probably could have raised even more.” Hailey blushed, looking up at Joss with doe-eyed adoration. “Lila, you can’t deny the strength of our team just to make yourself look more important. Everyone knows Joss is a financial prodigy. I’m sure the investors were betting on him, anyway.” Joss preened, puffing out his chest. “Hailey’s right. I was willing to let it slide before, but if you’re going to be this selfish and try to ruin her future, I won’t stand for it.” I met his arrogant gaze and smiled, a slow, chilling curve of my lips. “Fine. She can have it.” Joss’s face flooded with satisfaction. “See? That’s the Lila I know. You’re being reasonable. You’ll have plenty of other opportunities, but this is Hailey’s only shot.” I nodded agreeably. “Well then, good luck with your project.” Hailey, sensing I was about to walk away, panicked. “Lila, wait. Even though you’re not the leader anymore, you’re still part of the team. So… all the work you were doing? You should probably keep doing it.” I laughed, a sharp, incredulous sound. “Are you serious, Hailey? As team leader, I was responsible for over seventy percent of the project’s workload. You fought tooth and nail to take my place, and now you expect me to keep doing the lion’s share of the work? The audacity is staggering.” Hailey’s face paled. “That’s not what I meant… It’s just, the competition is almost over. It’s too late to change everything around now.” “Oh, I know,” I said, my voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper loud enough for the onlookers to hear. “You know the competition is almost over. That’s why you picked this exact moment to swoop in and steal the credit, isn’t it?” A ripple of understanding went through the crowd. Their expressions shifted from judgment to dawning realization. Murmurs of “schemer,” “user,” and “leech” started to circulate. Everyone had seen me running myself ragged for weeks, the first to arrive on campus and the last to leave. Hailey’s eyes filled with tears again, but this time, no one was buying it. Joss, ever her white knight, stepped in front of her, glaring at me. “Stop twisting her words, Lila! Hailey is just trying to do what’s best for the team. She’s the leader now, which means she’s in charge. You’ll do what she says. And if you refuse to follow orders, we’ll have no choice but to kick you out.” My eyes widened in mock horror, and then I burst into enthusiastic applause. “Excellent! Consider me gone. I quit.” Joss froze, his face a picture of disbelief. “Lila, don’t be impulsive. Hailey is a good person. She won’t hold a grudge against you. If you walk away now, you’ll regret it.” A genuine, carefree smile spread across my face. “Regret it? Oh, I don’t think so. I’m out. From this moment on, I have absolutely nothing to do with you or your little project.” Without a backward glance, I turned and walked away, leaving their stunned, ugly faces behind me. A startup? Who needs the stress? Why grind my life away starting a business from scratch when I could just go home and inherit a multi-billion-dollar corporation? Sure, Joss was talented. Especially after my family had unknowingly funded his rise, burnishing his reputation until he was a golden boy in the finance department. But right now? He wasn’t the legend he would become. His name alone couldn’t open doors or command millions. The investment I had secured wasn’t for him. It was just pocket money from my uncles, a little something to keep their favorite niece happy while she “played” at being an entrepreneur. That evening, I posted a simple update to my private social media story: “Stepping away from the incubator project. On to new things!” The comments from my family flooded in immediately. One uncle wrote: “Quitting already, sweetie? Don’t worry, you can ‘start’ as many businesses as you want. Your dad and us uncles have plenty of cash for you to play around with. Failure is just part of the game!” Another chimed in: “Wait, you’re not doing the startup anymore? Guess I’ll pull my investment then.” My cousin, Maria, who went to the same university, saw the post and added a comment explaining the whole sordid story of how I was bullied into quitting. The comment section exploded. My uncles, furious, declared they were pulling their funding that very night and threatened to blacklist Joss and his little group from ever getting a dime from anyone they knew. I didn’t stop them. The next day, I went to class as usual. With the weight of the competition off my shoulders, I felt lighter, free to focus on my actual studies and prepare for grad school applications. After class, I got a call from my father. He wanted me to draft a proposal for a small partnership deal he was considering. It was a common exercise he gave me, a low-stakes way to learn the ropes of the family business. That afternoon, I took the finished proposal to my father’s office at the Grant Corporation headquarters. He read it over, a pleased smile spreading across his face. “Excellent work, Lila. Sharp and concise.” As I was leaving the skyscraper, someone bumped squarely into me. I looked up. It was Joss. His eyes fell to the file in my hands, and a smug grin lit up his face. “Lila. I knew you couldn’t stay away,” he said, his voice oozing with condescension. “You knew we had a meeting at Grant Corp today, didn’t you? Did you prepare this new proposal for us?” He reached for the file, but I sidestepped him smoothly. “You’re mistaken. This is for me.” His brow furrowed. “Stop playing games, Lila. If you’re not giving it to us, what are you going to do? Start your own company?” I paused. The thought hadn’t even occurred to me. But… he was right. I had done almost all the work. I had the plan, the connections, the drive. Why couldn’t I? A slow, dangerous smile spread across my face. “You know what, Joss? That’s a great idea. I think I will.” And with that, I walked away, ignoring the string of angry, sputtering curses he hurled at my back. Three days later, I officially submitted my own solo project proposal to the incubator program, with all the original funding now redirected to me. As I was leaving campus that afternoon, Joss and Hailey blocked my path.

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1 After my family went bankrupt, I was forced into a cruel game. If Liam Burwell, the scholarship kid, spent ten thousand dollars on me within a set time, a group of rich kids would pay off my family’s debts. I used every trick in the book to make him fall in love with me. But just as we were two hundred dollars away from the goal, he vanished, leaving behind a single, devastating note. “I’m done with this charade.” The next day, intimate photos of us—photoshopped, but damning—were all over the internet. My reputation was destroyed. Soon after, crushed by debt and shame, my parents took their own lives. Five years later, I was assigned to be his fiancée’s private ski instructor. … My heart hammered against my ribs the moment my eyes met Liam’s. I quickly looked away, grateful for the ski goggles and mask that hid my face. But Liam’s gaze was fixed on me, intense, as if trying to see through the tinted lenses. The beautiful young woman beside him, Kathy, playfully flicked the ID badge hanging around my neck. “Kate Miller.” I had changed my name after my parents died. It was a name Liam wouldn’t know. “Liam, honey,” she cooed, “I remember your ex-girlfriend’s last name was Miller, too.” At the mention of my old self, Liam’s gaze fell, his expression unreadable. Then he reached out and affectionately ruffled Kathy’s hair, not denying it. Kathy, seizing the opportunity, recounted the story of how I, the manipulative gold-digger, had tricked the poor, earnest Liam. “That’s just horrible!” someone in their group exclaimed. “People who play with others’ feelings are the worst.” I glanced at Liam. He must have truly hated me, not even offering a single word to defend my past self. If I could, I would have wished none of it had ever happened. Kathy nudged my arm, her eyes glinting with scorn. “What do you think, Kate?” I just nodded quietly. “Yes. You’re right.” Sensing the tension, another friend tried to lighten the mood. “Well, thanks to her, Liam learned how to handle his rivals so ruthlessly.” A cold, humorless smile touched Liam’s lips. “Don’t even mention her. It’s disgusting.” My feet faltered. A sharp, secret pain lanced through my chest. “Exactly,” Kathy chirped. “She’d better not show her face again. If she does, I’ll definitely teach her a lesson.” The group started to move on. Liam noticed I had fallen behind and walked back to my side. “Miss Miller,” he said, his voice now formal and detached. “Kathy is new to skiing. Please make sure she’s safe. Don’t let her get hurt.” He was looking at Kathy’s retreating back as he spoke, his eyes filled with a profound tenderness. But once we were on the slopes, Kathy ignored my advice. She insisted on going to the advanced trail, and I had no choice but to follow. I saw her lose control, careening toward the edge of the run. I lunged forward, tackling her, using my own body to shield her as we tumbled off the trail and into the deep snow. I landed hard, a blinding pain exploding through me. It felt like every bone in my body had been shattered. I begged her to call for help, but she just brushed the snow off her designer ski suit and stood up. “Miss Miller, as an instructor, crashing off the trail… that doesn’t look very good for your reputation, does it?” I looked up, confused by her words. “Oh, stop pretending,” she sneered, her face twisting with malice. “You’re his ex-girlfriend, aren’t you? Iris Miller.” “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to. You only appeared here to try and seduce Liam again, didn’t you?” I tried to push myself up but collapsed back into the snow, the pain making my lips go white. “You’re mistaken,” I stammered, my voice trembling. “This is just my job.” 2 In the distance, Liam’s voice called out. Kathy flashed her phone at me. The screen showed her chat history with him. [Liam, honey, this instructor is insisting on taking me to the advanced trail. I’m so scared.] She used my shoulder to climb back onto the trail, then ran, sobbing, into the arms of the approaching figure. Liam’s voice was tight with suppressed fury. “Where is she?” Kathy sniffled. “She got scared of taking responsibility… and just abandoned me. She ran away.” Liam’s voice softened with concern. “Don’t worry, Kathy. I’ll make her pay for this.” Their voices faded as they walked away. With the last of my strength, I dialed for the ski patrol. I woke up in the clinic to the resort manager screaming at me over the phone. “They demand a face-to-face apology and compensation for damages, or they’re suing you!” Years of suppressed emotions erupted. “It wasn’t my fault!” I shouted, my voice raw. “Kathy was the one who insisted on going to the advanced trail!” There was a long silence on the other end. He was probably shocked. I had always been submissive, a pushover. But I had my pride. I would not admit to something I didn’t do. “Let them sue,” I said, and hung up. A nurse, seeing I was awake, told me I needed to go settle my bill. Leaning on crutches, I made my way downstairs, only to run into Liam, who was picking up medicine for Kathy. I gave him a cool glance and tried to walk past, but he blocked my path. “Iris, you…” Hearing my real name, the name he used to whisper with such affection, almost brought tears to my eyes. I cut him off. “I’m not giving back the ten thousand dollars.” The subject was a raw nerve. His hand shot out, clamping around my wrist like a vise. “Iris, do you even have a heart?” Five years ago, my family went bankrupt. To pay off the debts, I agreed to a cruel game. A group of rich kids despised Liam for his quiet pride and wanted to see him brought low. Ten thousand dollars was nothing to them, but to Liam, it was his family’s income for an entire year. He worked every spare hour at part-time jobs, just to buy me a bracelet I’d pointed at. I told him a family member was sick, and without a second thought, he transferred his entire tuition for the next semester to me. But the day before the bet was over, he found out. He discovered that my affection was all part of a wager. He confronted me, broken, and I didn’t know how to answer. I just told him I would explain everything the next day. But the next day, he never came. All I received was the jar of paper stars he’d made for me. And I had been planning to tell him that day that my feelings had become real. That I had truly fallen in love with him. “Don’t touch me!” I yanked my arm away. I wanted nothing to do with him now. At the payment window, the cashier informed me I had insufficient funds. My humiliation was on full display. I clutched my phone, numbly scrolling through my contacts, realizing there was no one I could call. Liam watched me, a cruel, mocking smile playing on his lips. “Beg me, Iris. Just say you were wrong, and I’ll give you the money.” 3 My nails dug into my palms. Just as I was about to speak, his phone rang. Kathy’s voice, saccharine and sharp, came through the speaker. “That Kate Miller woman won’t admit to anything. She says she’s not afraid of us suing her.” She paused, then her voice took on a tearful quaver. “She… she even sent me threatening messages. She called me a bitch.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. When would I have possibly had time to threaten her? But Liam didn’t even bother to verify her claims. He just sentenced me on the spot. I felt like I was looking at a complete stranger. I pulled out the bank card—the one with the ten thousand dollars—and paid the bill. I had kept it all these years, intending to give it back to him one day. It seemed I had been sentimental for nothing. My leg was injured, and I walked slowly. Liam caught up to me easily. I forced a smile, speaking before he could. “Liam, you’re so pathetic, aren’t you? One little wave from me and you’d come crawling back. Did you really think a girl like me would ever be short on cash?” His expression faltered, a flash of anger in his eyes. He thrust a folder at me, scattering papers across the floor. “Don’t flatter yourself, Miss Miller. You forgot your medical report.” The papers lay scattered around my feet. I silently knelt, picking them up one by one. After leaving the hospital, I went back to my small rented apartment. I’d been fired from the resort and was now facing a lawsuit. My budget was so tight I couldn’t even afford a lawyer. To make money, I found a job as a bartender at a high-end cocktail lounge. And in a private room, I saw him again. Liam. He was sitting with the same group of rich kids from all those years ago, laughing and talking as if they were old friends. I kept my head down, trying to blend into the shadows. But then they started reminiscing about our university days. I lost focus for a second, and a drink sloshed onto one of them—Zack. “Watch what you’re doing! Didn’t you see you spilled that on me?” I didn’t speak, just grabbed a napkin and tried to wipe the stain. “Do you know how much this suit costs? Can you even afford to replace it if you ruin it?” He knocked my hand away and tilted my chin up, his eyes widening in recognition. “Iris?” At the sound of my name, every head in the room turned to me. “Well, well, the great Iris Miller. How did you end up working at my family’s bar?” “What, wasn’t the ten grand you scammed off Liam enough?” With a few words, they absolved themselves of any part in the original cruelty. Liam glanced at me, his expression unreadable, then coolly looked away. His silence was permission. It was an endorsement of their mockery. “You didn’t track us down on purpose, did you? Hoping for a handout?” “Hey, we’re old classmates. Here’s ten bucks for your trouble.” “I was always closer to Iris. I’ll give her fifty.” Laughter filled the room as bills were tossed haphazardly onto the table. I finished mixing the last drink and slowly stood up. “Your drinks are ready. If there’s nothing else, I’ll be leaving.” 4 “Who said you could leave?” Liam’s voice cut through the air. He swirled the drink in his hand. “Bring me one of every cocktail on your menu.” I stopped. The eighteen-year-old Iris would have walked out. But I needed the money. I forced a standard, professional smile. “Of course. I hope you’ll be paying your tab, Mr. Burwell.” I mixed and served drink after drink, until my arms ached with exhaustion. At his signal, the others silently drank them down. My phone, sitting on the bar, lit up. I reached for it, but I was too slow. A drunk Zack snatched it, reading the message aloud. “Miss Miller, I’m sorry, but we don’t have any lawyers who can take your case with this budget.” “Iris, darling, can’t even afford a lawyer?” My hand tightened around a glass. I looked up and met Liam’s surprised gaze. Suddenly, I felt a wave of profound, suffocating shame. “Give it back!” “Don’t you guys know? The Millers went bankrupt because her father was having an affair…” They piled on, their vicious, baseless speculation directed at my parents. I couldn’t take it anymore. I grabbed a bottle and smashed it over the speaker’s head. “Shut your mouth!” Liquid dripped from my fingers. My right hand was shaking uncontrollably with fear. The man, his reason gone, lunged at me, his hands closing around my throat. The taste of blood filled my mouth. Suddenly, he was gone. Liam had kicked him square in the chest. He glared down at the man, his voice lethally calm. “What do you think you’re doing?” Sensing his rage, the others scrambled out of the room like rats fleeing a ship. I gasped for air, steadying myself on the table as I stood up amidst the wreckage. “Mr. Burwell, your friend started it. I won’t be paying for a single thing.” Liam let out a short, incredulous laugh. “Is that all you have to say to me? Iris, are you really that desperate for money?” I turned my back to him, wiping away a tear before it could fall. I cleared my throat. “It has nothing to do with you.” It wasn’t until I left the room that I realized my hand was covered in cuts from the shattered glass. I remembered a time when the smallest scratch would have sent Liam into a panic, rushing me to the clinic. I would laugh at him for overreacting, but he would just look down, his expression serious. “Iris,” he had said once, “you’re all I have.” His quietness wasn’t aloofness; it was a deep-seated insecurity. He had spent the first twenty years of his life being abandoned. I was the first person to choose him, to stay. He had wanted to lay the entire world at my feet. So when he found out it was all a lie, his hatred was as fierce as his love had been. Now he was surrounded by love and adoration. I should be happy for him, shouldn’t I? So why couldn’t I smile? I didn’t go to the hospital. I just wrapped the cuts myself. The next day, there was a knock on my door. A man in a sharp suit handed me a business card. He was a lawyer. “I don’t need one, thank you.” 5 I tried to close the door, but he blocked it with his foot. After some pressing, he admitted that Liam had sent him. I pushed him out and said calmly, “Tell him I don’t need his help.” But he refused to leave. Just then, I got a call. The retainer I had paid to another lawyer was being refunded. They didn’t dare offend Mr. Burwell. No lawyer in the city would take Kate Miller’s case. The man outside my door spoke again, his timing perfect. “Miss Miller, rest assured, I will not report any details of our conversations to Mr. Burwell.” With nothing left to lose, I agreed.

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At the Film Guild Awards, my girlfriend, the newly crowned Actress of the Year, announced her engagement. My heart hammering against my ribs, I started towards the stage, but she held up a hand, stopping me cold. “Could you please step aside? You’re blocking the shot of my fiancé.” I froze. In that moment of stunned silence, another actor, Aidan, slid past me, effortlessly taking my place at her side. Seven years. Seven years of devotion, of being the man in the shadows. I was done being invisible. As I watched them kiss for the cameras, a storm of applause erupting around them, I turned and walked out of the auditorium without a word. I went home, packed a bag, and sent her one last text. “Wishing you both a lifetime of happiness.” 1 It was two in the morning when Isla finally drifted through the door. She saw me packing and, without a word, picked up the glass of honey water I’d left on the table, downing it in one go. “Richard, what was that text supposed to mean? My engagement to Aidan is just a publicity stunt, the studio set it all up. He’s been drowning in scandals lately, and if we don’t clean up his image, it’s going to kill the box office for our new movie.” She sighed, a picture of weary frustration. “It’s all an act for the fans. You can’t seriously believe it, can you? God, can you just make my life a little easier for once?” As her former manager, I knew all about the dirty games of the entertainment industry. Of course I knew. Tonight was supposed to be the biggest night of her life. She’d won Best Actress for a blockbuster drama that had taken the world by storm. It was also our seventh anniversary. She had promised me. She promised that tonight, she would finally tell the world about us. That after seven long years of being the secret boyfriend, the “personal assistant,” I would finally get to stand by her side. Toward the end of the ceremony, she did it. Standing before a sea of reporters, Isla finally revealed the secret she’d kept for so long—that she was in a long-term relationship. The room exploded. I was the only one silent, my palms sweating with a nervous excitement. “All these years,” she began, her voice thick with emotion, tears welling in her eyes, “my boyfriend has been my silent rock. Without his support, his sacrifice… I wouldn’t be the woman I am today.” Clutching the bouquet of flowers I had prepared, I walked towards the stage, my whole body trembling. But when Isla took the flowers from me, she pushed me aside with a flash of impatience. “Richard, what are you still doing here?” Her voice was a sharp whisper. “Could you please step aside? You’re blocking the shot of my fiancé.” In a daze, I stumbled back. I watched as Aidan moved in, wrapping his arm around her waist, their fingers lacing together. He shot me a triumphant smirk as he deliberately shouldered me off the stage. Then, for the world to see, they shared a deep, passionate kiss. Seeing that, a switch flipped inside me. I turned and left. Seven years of waiting, all for a beautiful, hollow dream. And now, I was done waiting. As I zipped my suitcase shut, the displeasure on Isla’s face finally softened. She wrapped her arms around me from behind, her voice a husky, tired whisper. “Richard, I know you’re upset. But my hands are tied, you know that.” “I’ve already cleared my schedule for next week. You said you wanted to go to the Maldives, right? I bought the tickets. It’ll be just the two of us…” This was her way. A grand gesture to smooth over a deep wound. She’d done it a hundred times before. I gently broke free from her embrace, reached into my pocket, and pulled out a small, velvet box. I opened it and pressed the simple, elegant engagement ring into her palm. “If you’re getting engaged,” I said, my voice flat, “you’re going to need this, aren’t you?” 2 Isla just stood there, staring at the ring in her hand, speechless. She watched me pick up my suitcase and walk out the door. She didn’t say a word to stop me. I hailed a cab and gave the driver the address to my small house tucked away in the hills. Isla had bought it on a whim after her first massive paycheck, saying it would be our future home. The deed was in my name. When we first graduated, Isla had no connections, no resources. She was just another struggling actress, taking bit parts and barely making rent. There were times when the two of us lived in a tiny, cramped apartment, and the best meal we could afford was instant ramen and stale bread. I did everything I could to get her a break. I hustled, I networked, I drank myself into a stomach ulcer schmoozing with producers and directors, all just to land her a supporting role with more than five lines. And she shone. Slowly, she started to gain a following. A low-budget web series she starred in went viral, and she won Best Newcomer. From a nameless face in the background, she skyrocketed into an A-list star with an eight-figure salary. I saw every struggle, every tear. A few years ago, a massively popular fantasy novel was being adapted into a series. The director wanted Isla for the lead. But she made a demand: the male lead had to be played by Aidan. A role that seasoned actors would have killed for was handed to a complete unknown. At the time, I thought she was just being kind, seeing a kindred spirit in another kid who came from nothing. Until the wrap party. I was outside the dressing room when I overheard them talking. “So, Isla,” Aidan’s voice was teasing. “You got a secret boyfriend tucked away somewhere? I’ve never seen you do one of those fake ‘showmance’ PR things with a co-star. Is someone at home getting jealous?” “Where did you hear that I was seeing someone?” Isla’s laugh was light, dismissive. “I just don’t need that kind of publicity.” She denied my existence. A familiar pang of hurt shot through me, but I told myself it was for the best. She had always said she didn’t want to go public too early, that it would disrupt my life. “Oh?” Aidan pressed, his tone feigning confusion. “So that guy who’s always on set, bringing you tea and water… he’s not your boyfriend?” “You mean Richard? He’s just my assistant. He’s been with me for a while,” she said. “Me, date a civilian? Please. If I were going to date someone, it would have to be someone like you…” That’s when I felt the rage. White-hot and blinding. I was about to storm in and demand an explanation. 3 But I didn’t. My hand was on the knob, but I pulled it back. I was a coward. I was afraid that if I confronted her, if I blew everything up, she would just let it all burn. And I would be left with nothing. She was an idol, worshipped by millions. And me? I was just her nameless assistant, her ghost of a manager. What right did I have to question her? Ding! The buzz of a text message jolted me from a half-sleep. I glanced down. It was just a notification from my phone carrier about an overdue bill. Sprawled on the dusty couch of the empty house, my eyes were dry and sore. There were no tears left to cry. I remembered I’d left some important documents and personal items back at her place. The next morning, I went back. The moment I walked in, I was hit by the smell of freshly cooked food. “You’re back,” Isla said with a soft smile, as if nothing had happened. “Go wash your hands. We were just waiting for you.” I looked at the spread of hot dishes on the table, and for a moment, my resolve wavered. I was about to sit down, to try and have a calm, rational conversation about us ending things. But then my eyes caught a figure slouched on the corner of the sofa. Aidan. His shirt was unbuttoned, and a faint, red mark was visible on his neck. A hickey. He saw me and didn’t even flinch. He just stood up slowly, a look of utter disdain on his face, and deliberately bumped my shoulder as he passed. He tossed a set of car keys at me. “The building management called. Your car’s blocking someone. You’re here now, so go move it.” He clearly had no idea who I was to her. He really thought I was just some servant he could order around. “Well? What are you waiting for?” I looked at Isla, my face a blank mask. She said nothing. She just gave me a look, a silent command in her eyes, telling me to do as Aidan said. After a long moment, I let the keys drop to the floor. “Get your own gopher to run your errands,” I said to Aidan, my voice cold. “I have no obligation to serve you.” The atmosphere in the room instantly turned to ice. Aidan’s face darkened. He clearly didn’t want to cause a scene in front of Isla, so he just let out a long, put-upon sigh. “Oh, right. I forgot you’re Isla’s assistant. My bad, I was out of line. Sorry about that.” Before I could respond, Isla’s voice cut through the air like a whip. “Aidan is my fiancé. His business is my business. What’s your problem?” 4 In that instant, my patience, stretched thin over seven long years, finally snapped. I bent down, picked up the keys, and walked to the door. Isla rushed after me, whispering urgently in my ear. “He’s just a kid, he doesn’t know how to watch his mouth. Don’t stoop to his level.” “The press is coming by later for a photoshoot,” she added quickly. “We’re just getting into character. Don’t get the wrong idea.” I turned and looked at her, studying the subtle twitches of her perfectly composed face. But it was no use. Isla was a professional actress. Even when she was lying through her teeth, I couldn’t tell. As if on cue, Aidan, emboldened by his small victory, decided to twist the knife. He let out a low, mocking laugh. “Wow. I guess assistants these days pick and choose who they work for. Are we paying for help, or are we supposed to be worshipping them?” He sighed dramatically. “Since you’re so unwilling, I guess I’ll just go myself.” That single sentence ripped open a fresh wound. Six months ago, after their fantasy drama became a massive hit, the cast and crew had a celebration at a five-star restaurant. I was at home, burning up with a 102-degree fever. Then I got a text from Isla: Get here in twenty minutes. It’s important. I thought, it’s her victory party. She wants me there to share her happiness. So I dragged myself out of bed and rushed over. But when I got there, it wasn’t to celebrate. It was because Aidan and a few of the directors had gotten drunk and thrown up all over the private dining room. Isla, the glamorous star, couldn’t handle the mess, so she called me to clean it up. Sick and dizzy, I spent the next hour on my hands and knees, scrubbing vomit off the expensive carpet. Then I had to call cabs, book hotel rooms, and make sure everyone got back safely. I didn’t finish until three in the morning. Isla never said a word of thanks. She just complained that I was “off my game” and that I was working too slowly. For seven years, 365 days a year, I had no time for myself. My phone was on 24/7, always on standby. All for a few thousand dollars a month in spending money. What A-list celebrity’s assistant lived like that? Seeing her still siding with him, I finally understood. Everything became crystal clear. I took a deep breath. “Ms. Vance,” I said, my voice steady. “I’m afraid I can no longer continue as your assistant. I suggest you find someone else.” A flicker of shock crossed her face. Her fists clenched at her sides, and I could see the red veins in her eyes. “Richard, don’t be ridiculous. This isn’t a game. You can’t just quit whenever you feel like it.” Her words made me laugh out loud. A hollow, bitter sound. For all these years, I was just her “assistant.” We never even signed a contract. I didn’t need her permission to leave. “Then sue me,” I said. “If you think it’ll do you any good.” With that, I grabbed my documents, my few remaining belongings, and walked out the door. “Quitting” was just a euphemism. She knew exactly what I really meant.

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Just because she was worried her sick first love couldn’t handle any hardship, my wife changed our honeymoon tickets and handed me over to his vicious creditors as collateral. “One week, James. A week at most,” she promised, her voice trembling. “As soon as I have the ransom, I’ll come get you. We can go anywhere you want after this. I’ll go with you.” For that one week, they treated me like an animal, torturing me until I was broken. I prayed for her to appear every waking moment. But her? She was casually watching movies with him, enjoying romantic sunrises and scenic sunsets by his side. It wasn’t until the tenth day that she finally showed up with the money, smiling, asking me where I wanted to go for the next leg of our trip. I just stared at her, my face a mask of confusion. “My wife? I’m sorry, miss, but I think you have the wrong person. I’m not married.” 1 “This plane… it’s not going to Paris, is it?” I tore my eyes from the window, my gaze landing coolly on my wife, Leah. The hand she was using to flip through a magazine froze mid-air. She snapped it shut with a practiced nonchalance and tapped me playfully on the forehead. “What a silly thing to say.” “It’s where we first met,” she said, her voice a little too bright. “Where else would we go for our honeymoon?” She took my hand then, lacing her fingers through mine, squeezing so tightly it almost hurt. It felt less like a gesture of affection and more like a desperate attempt to keep me from vanishing into thin air. I didn’t respond to her explanation. I just watched her, my silence a heavy weight between us. She was good at hiding it, but I could feel the tremor of panic in her grip. It wasn’t just her, either. The men sitting around us, burly and stern-faced, kept shooting me sidelong glances. Their eyes were sharp, vigilant, like hunters watching prey they expected to bolt at any moment. I took a deep, steadying breath. “You don’t have to lie to me,” I said, my voice flat. “You swapped the tickets. This is about saving Chuck, isn’t it?” The name hit her like a physical blow. I saw her whole body go rigid. Of course it did. Chuck was her first love, the man she’d dated for four years, the one she’d almost walked down the aisle with. “James, what are you talking about? I don’t understand,” she stammered, trying to rally. “He and I… that was over a long time ago.” I cut through her flimsy facade. “I heard.” “Chuck’s in deep with some very bad people. They’ve got him.” I held her gaze, refusing to let her look away. “He has that heart bypass surgery next week. You’re planning to trade me for him, aren’t you? A placeholder until you can pay his debt.” This time, she didn’t deny it. Her eyes darted away, unable to meet mine. “James, I’m your wife now. Don’t think such crazy things.” She was pleading now. “Chuck… he’s a victim in all this. He’s innocent.” A sharp, cold pain lanced through my chest as I watched her. “His family isn’t innocent, Leah.” “They got rich selling dangerous counterfeit supplements. They ruined lives, destroyed families…” Before I could finish, she leaned in and silenced me with a kiss. It was desperate, salty with the tears that were starting to form in her eyes. “Don’t,” she whispered against my lips, her voice thick and choked. “The Chucks were good to me once. I can’t just watch him die.” She pulled back, her eyes wide and pleading. “Just a small sacrifice, James. That’s all it takes for everyone to be happy… We’re married. For the sake of our marriage, please… help me one last time. Please?” I saw the unyielding determination in her eyes and a bitter laugh escaped my lips. “You’ve changed, Leah.” She didn’t answer. Instead, she just buried her face in my chest, her tears soaking through the fabric of my shirt. I knew then, with a certainty that chilled me to the bone, that she would never be over him. In Leah’s heart, I would always be second best to a man named Chuck. Even if he was a criminal who needed my freedom—our marriage—as a down payment for his salvation. … We didn’t speak for the rest of the flight. What was there to say? We both knew that once the plane landed, our life as husband and wife was effectively over. As the plane descended, my heart sank with it. Sure enough, the moment we stepped out of the jet bridge, a group of men built like brick shithouses surrounded us. The one in charge, a man with a jagged scar bisecting his eyebrow, followed Leah’s gaze to me. His expression was a cocktail of contempt, triumph, and a strange sort of pity. “Willing to trade her own husband to save another man,” he drawled, shaking his head. “Tsk, tsk… now that’s what you call love.” He flicked his wrist, and two of his goons grabbed my arms, their grips like iron clamps. The boss grinned, satisfied, and then shoved a frail figure towards Leah. “Chuck!” Leah cried out, rushing forward to catch him as he stumbled. He looked terrible. His face was ashen, his lips cracked and dry. He was a ghost of the man I’d seen in pictures. Leah wrapped her arms around him, her heart breaking all over her face. “What did they do to you?” she sobbed. “It’s okay. It’s all over now. You’re safe.” Chuck just nodded weakly, his eyes shining with the pure, unadulterated joy of a man pulled back from the brink of hell. I watched them, a hollow, self-mocking laugh bubbling in my throat. The concern she showed him was so real, so effortless. For a second, I lost the will to even struggle against the men holding me. What was I to her, really? A partner to build a life with? Or just a convenient, disposable asset? I had a feeling I’d never get an answer. From across the tarmac, Leah seemed to sense my stare. She bit her lip and finally looked at me. Her eyes were swimming with apology and guilt, but beneath it all was a core of unshakeable resolve. “James, I’m so sorry.” “I promised you Paris, our honeymoon… but I can’t… I can’t just let Chuck die. He needs me.” “Don’t worry,” she said, her voice earnest. “A week. Just give me one week, and I’ll have the money. I swear. And then, wherever you want to go, I’ll take you. Anywhere. Okay?” She stood on her toes, her eyes red and puffy, and tried to kiss me one last time. I turned my head away. Her lips met empty air. “Don’t call me your husband,” I said, my voice cold and dead. “Just go save your precious Chuck.” 2 Leah flinched, but her composure snapped back into place almost immediately. “James, I know I was wrong to hide this from you,” she said, her voice low and urgent. “Please, just trust me this one last time. I swear to you, you are the only husband I will ever have. I will be back on time.” I didn’t offer a single word in response to her vow. She opened her mouth, as if to say more, but closed it again. With one last, deep look, she turned, supporting Chuck’s weight, and hurried away. As they left, I watched their retreating backs, a barren wasteland blooming inside my chest. It was only then that I saw it: Chuck glanced back over his shoulder at me. A faint, cryptic smile played on his lips. It took me a long time to understand that smile. It was the smug grin of a man who had clawed his way out of hell, knowing full well who he’d left behind to take his place. … Day three of Leah’s abandonment. Still no word. Not a text, not a call. Nothing. “Boss, you think this broad is playing us? Three days and not a goddamn peep!” a heavyset brute growled. As if to punctuate his frustration, he snatched a rattan cane from the floor and lashed it across my back. I’d been starved for three days straight. The festering wounds on my body were so deep you could see bone. In the forty-degree heat of the dilapidated warehouse, the cuts had started to rot, a sweet, sickening stench rising from my own flesh. I summoned my last ounce of strength, reaching for a crust of bread someone had dropped on the filthy floor. Before my fingers could touch it, a boot came down, snapping the bones in my right hand with a sickening crunch. The man they called “Scar” grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked my head back. His face, a roadmap of old fights, was etched with impatience and a chilling brutality. “You’d better pray to whatever god you believe in that your little wife isn’t screwing with me,” he snarled, “or else…” He punctuated the threat with a vicious kick to my stomach. A supernova of pain exploded behind my eyes. My stomach heaved, but there was nothing in it to throw up. Only bitter acid dribbled from the corner of my mouth. “Fuck! Disgusting!” Scar spat, stepping back to avoid the mess. He planted his boot on my chest and ground his heel in. “String him up!” Rough hands hauled me to my feet. My arms were wrenched behind my back and tied to a pipe overhead. The rope bit into my skin, a searing, white-hot agony. My head lolled forward, sweat and blood mixing, dripping into my eyes and blurring my vision. “The hell is wrong with you? Are you even her husband?” Scar taunted, his voice dripping with scorn. “It’s been three days! She hasn’t sent a single message, but she’s got time to go gallivanting up some mountain with pretty-boy, watching the fucking sunrise and sunset.” He sneered. “What are you, the pathetic side-piece she dumped?” His words were like shards of glass, piercing my heart, stealing the air from my lungs. He was talking about the picture on my phone. The one Chuck had posted to his social media feed yesterday. A photo of him and Leah, beaming. The caption read: Nothing like a beautiful sunrise to clear your head after getting out of the hospital. In the picture, they looked like they were on a blissful vacation. Another photo showed them at a five-star restaurant, feasting on a lavish meal. They were the ones on a honeymoon. And me? I was here, in this living hell, where every minute was an eternity, unable to get so much as a sip of clean water. And from Leah? Absolute silence. Rage simmered within me, but I was too weak from hunger to even fuel it. All I could do was pray for the seven days to pass quickly. The moment I get out of here, I swear to God, I’m divorcing her. But I had still, foolishly, overestimated my place in her world. The promised week came and went. There was no sign of Leah. Not even a text message. The truth finally crashed down on me. I’d been abandoned. Her promises, her “love,” it was all just a smokescreen to get Chuck out. And I was the pawn she’d sacrificed without a second thought. “Boss, what’s the plan now?” a wiry-looking thug asked nervously. Scar shot a disgusted look in my direction and raked a hand through his greasy hair. “The plan? What do you think the plan is? The bitch played us for fools!” The wiry one made a slicing motion across his throat. “So, we just… off him?” SMACK! Scar slapped him hard across the back of the head. “Off him? Are you a fucking idiot? We kill him, we get nothing!” he roared. “Keep an eye on this piece of shit. I want to see what that bitch’s next move is. But if the money doesn’t show up soon… go find a buyer for his kidneys.” I lay on the cold concrete, their words washing over me, my heart turning to ash. An image of Chuck’s pale face flashed in my mind, that strange, victorious smile he’d given me as he left. So that’s what it was. The smile of a winner. And I was the fool, kept in the dark, played from the very beginning. I thought Leah and I had something real. I thought we were building a future. In the end, it was all just a story I’d told myself. I closed my eyes, a wave of despair pulling me under. I was ready to give up, to just let go. But then, a sudden, jarring sound cut through the silence. My phone was ringing. “Boss, it’s a call!” the wiry thug yelled, snatching up my phone. He glanced at the screen, his eyes widening. “It’s her! It’s Leah!” My heart, which I thought had died, suddenly slammed against my ribs, a frantic, desperate beat. She finally called. I held my breath, every fiber of my being straining to hear her voice. But in the next second, my world plunged into an abyss.

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Kevin drove over to pick me up. He was always so cool and distant. But today, his new secretary was sitting in the passenger seat. Right then, I knew. This marriage was over. 1 The day Kevin came to get me, I opened the passenger-side door and froze. A pretty young woman was sitting there, a sweet smile on her face. “Hi, Mrs. King!” She was polite, but she made no move to get out of my seat. My eyes narrowed, my gaze shifting to Kevin. He was on the phone, his head down, oblivious to the storm brewing right beside him. We were supposed to go to an auction together tonight. It was a date I’d been looking forward to, one I’d dressed up for. And here was someone else, sitting in my seat. “Hi, Mrs. King. My name is Bella. I’m Mr. King’s new assistant,” the girl said, her smile widening into two charming dimples. “I heard you were going to a private auction tonight, so I begged Mr. King to let me tag along and see what it’s like. Don’t worry, I won’t be a bother.” My heart plummeted. I knew this man. I knew the cool, perfect man I’d married. He kept his distance from everyone. He didn’t let people get close. Our marriage had been an arrangement, a strategic alliance between our families. We chose each other after careful consideration. People had joked that I was signing up for a life of lonely nights. But after we were together, he would hold me, his eyes soft. In moments of passion, the corners of his eyes would turn a faint red. “You’re my wife,” he’d said. “We are one. You’re different from everyone else.” Today, something was different. 2 But I am not some wilting flower who swallows her pride. I am Mary Lane, and I’ve never had to watch my words for anyone. “Get out.” My voice was ice. I showed no mercy. The girl stared at me, stunned. She clearly hadn’t expected me to be so blunt. The coldness in my tone left her speechless. “I… I’m sorry, Mrs. King,” she stammered, her voice trembling on the verge of tears as she scrambled into the back seat. Kevin hung up the phone just in time to see the aftermath. He knew I was angry. A look of weary indulgence crossed his face. He leaned over and fastened my seatbelt for me. I noticed the seat had been adjusted. Annoyed, I readjusted everything—the seat, the mirrors, the steering wheel—fuming. “This is so annoying! Who the hell dares to mess with my seat?” The air in the car turned frigid. The girl in the back didn’t dare make a sound. Kevin’s brow furrowed. “If you’re not in the mood today,” he suggested calmly, “we can just go home.” In the rearview mirror, I could see the woman silently crying. I was seething. “Bella, was it?” I said, my voice sharp. “I’m not in the mood anymore. You can take a taxi home. Mr. King and I are leaving.” The girl’s face went pale. She looked at Kevin for help, but he offered none. Dejected, she got out of the car. 3 Kevin would never humiliate me in front of others. He was a master of self-control. That’s why he suggested we go home. Whatever the problem, we would deal with it at home. That was our understanding. “She’s just a kid, fresh out of college,” he said, pulling me into his arms once we were inside. “Why are you getting so worked up over something so small?” “It’s the first time.” “What is?” “In all these years, this is the first time you’ve let another woman sit in your passenger seat.” He hadn’t expected that. He knew how many women were interested in him. He was a catch. But he’d always been so disciplined, never straying. He smiled, ruffling my hair. “I can’t believe I finally made you jealous.” He leaned in and kissed me, his nose brushing against my cheek. “She’s just my employee. That’s all. There will never be anything else between us.” He held my face in his hands, his gaze intense. “I promise.” 4 A woman’s intuition is rarely wrong. Even though I’d only met Bella once, I knew she had her sights set on Kevin. I thought my little display of dominance would be enough to put her in her place. I was wrong. The necklace from the auction—the one that was supposed to be mine—was around her neck the very next day. Michael, Kevin’s chief of staff, sent me a photo and a screenshot. In the photo, a diamond crescent moon necklace rested against Bella’s pale skin, making her look even more delicate and lovely. Her eyes were red and swollen, but she was smiling. She must have cried all night and received a little “gift” as a consolation prize. The screenshot was of her social media post: [ The boss says girls have to be strong, even when they’re upset! Wiping away the tears. Yes, sir, Mr. President! ] Followed by a series of cute, flexing-bicep emojis and a picture of the necklace in its box. My blood ran cold. I have to admit, it was hard to swallow. It felt like finding a dead mosquito squashed on a pristine white handkerchief. It was a strange, unsettling feeling. For a moment, I wanted to jump into my yellow Ferrari, redline it to her office, and slap her across the face. But then I looked at my own hands and thought, why am I even giving this cheap little tramp the time of day? I called my personal shopper at Hermès. Her voice was practically vibrating with excitement. “Don’t you worry, Mrs. King,” she promised. “I’ll move heaven and earth if I have to, but I’ll get you everything you need. It will all be delivered today!” And so, that afternoon, before the end of the workday, every single female executive assistant and senior administrator at King Corp—forty-six women in total, everyone except Bella—received a generous gift from the CEO’s wife: a twelve-thousand-dollar Hermès necklace. It wasn’t as expensive as the two-hundred-thousand-dollar auction piece, but the sheer volume of it made a statement. Michael, ever the smooth operator, instructed each recipient to post a picture on their social media with the caption: [ The boss’s wife says every girl deserves the best! Flexing my muscles. Yes, ma’am, Mrs. King! ] The women were more than happy to oblige. The executive assistants and senior admins were the gossip hub of the entire company. A gift from the CEO’s wife? They were ecstatic to post. Some of the savvier ones even added their own little flair: [Mrs. King really knows how to play the game!] Individually, these assistants might not have had much influence, but their collective reach was terrifying. Within half an hour, the entire company knew that the boss’s wife had gifted them all Hermès necklaces. As for why… the rumor mills were working overtime. Bella’s face was ashen. She looked utterly humiliated. With red-rimmed eyes, she fled to the bathroom and took off the diamond necklace. Two colleagues who came in to touch up their makeup saw her and snickered. Mortified, Bella kept her head down and hurried out, the sound of their laughter chasing her down the hall. Her cheeks burning, she put the necklace back in its box and returned it, untouched, to Kevin. 5 Kevin had just finished a video call with a partner when he saw her standing there, clutching the necklace box, looking miserable. She’d clearly been crying again. “What’s wrong?” he asked. Tears welled in Bella’s eyes before she could even speak. “Mr. King,” she whispered, her voice choked with sobs, “you should take this back. I can’t accept it.” A flicker of annoyance crossed Kevin’s handsome face. His gut told him something had happened, but he didn’t press. He just watched her. Bella bit her lip, hesitating, before finally telling him everything that had happened in the office that day. “I’m so sorry, Mr. King. I’m always causing trouble for you. I was just trying to cheer myself up with that post. I don’t know how Mrs. King found out.” She sniffled pitifully. “I didn’t think she would get so angry.” She looked like a sad little bunny. “Mr. King, I want to apologize to her. I can explain everything to her in person.” Kevin never looked at social media. His life was consumed by work. But as the CEO of a major corporation, he was all too familiar with the vicious cycle of office gossip. His already stern face grew even colder. “I see,” he said, his voice low. 6 That night, Kevin brought Bella home. The girl stood timidly behind him. “I asked Bella to come so she could explain things to you in person,” Kevin said with a sigh. “Mary, Bella is just my secretary. I gave her a gift to apologize for what happened yesterday. That’s all.” I stirred my spoon in the bird’s nest soup our cook had prepared and took a sip. “I’m sorry, Mrs. King,” Bella said, bowing deeply. She looked terrified, fragile. “It was the first time I’d ever received such an expensive gift. I got carried away. If I did something to upset you, please tell me. I’ll change, I promise!” I raised an eyebrow. “Bella, is it?” She glanced at Kevin, as if drawing courage from him, and nodded slowly. Seeing this little lamb trying to go head-to-head with me was almost comical. “I’m not your teacher, and I’m not your boss. I don’t have time to teach you how to behave. But I am Kevin King’s wife. And I don’t give second chances to anyone who tries to get too close to my husband.” The girl had probably never met anyone as direct as me in her entire life. Her face flushed, and she looked even more helpless. “Mary, Bella came to apologize,” Kevin said. He knew my temperament, my methods. Even if he didn’t approve of what I’d done, he understood why I’d done it. That’s why he’d agreed to let her come and apologize. He was trying to meet me halfway, to clear up the misunderstanding. We were both smart people. We could read each other with a single glance. “I know.” I decided to give him a chance. After all, he hadn’t actually cheated. “But there won’t be a next time. Not with anyone.” 7 “You didn’t have to resort to those kinds of tactics with her,” Kevin said as we were getting ready for bed. “You should have just told me.” I sat at my vanity, brushing my hair, staring at his handsome reflection in the mirror. “You knew I liked that necklace, but you gave it to another woman. Don’t I have a right to be angry?” I couldn’t imagine what I would do if this perfect man were ever to become tainted. Could I still love him? Kevin calmly poured himself a glass of ice water. “She cried all night because of your misunderstanding. I saw how swollen her eyes were in the morning, so I gave her the necklace as an apology.” His story was flawless. I studied him for a long moment. Two hundred thousand dollars was nothing to us. Giving it away on a whim was plausible. It just depended on whether the recipient was worth it. His fingers tapped against the marble countertop. He was waiting for me to think. This was the first time a third person had caused a rift between us. Our upbringings, our dispositions—we were both weary of this kind of drama. We were people who valued our dignity. “Kevin, I love you,” I said suddenly. His fingers stilled. He clearly hadn’t expected that. “Kevin, I love the version of you that is untouched, pure. That’s what sets you apart. You used to keep your distance from other women because you had emotional boundaries, because you wanted a clean marriage. I wasn’t like that before, but your values changed me. Now, we want the same thing. I hope our marriage never has to face a crossroads.” “It won’t,” he said, a note of frustration in his voice. “I haven’t done anything.” 8 Kevin was a very clear-headed person. He knew I was bothered, so he wouldn’t give Bella any more false hope. Without the CEO’s favor, Bella, as an intern, was relegated to the most basic tasks. Before, she’d had a chance to work the front desk. Now, Michael wouldn’t even put her on the schedule. I didn’t tell anyone to ostracize her. I trusted Kevin to handle it. But in a place like this, I didn’t need to. There were plenty of people willing to kiss up and kick down. Within two weeks, the new secretary couldn’t handle the fall from grace and the psychological pressure. She lost a noticeable amount of weight. The turning point came after an important board meeting. Bella had been assigned to clean the small conference room by herself. She was on her knees in a skirt suit, painstakingly scraping gum off the carpet with a razor blade. Kevin, who had returned to retrieve something, walked in on this scene. Sensing someone behind her, the girl scrambled to her feet, mortified. Kevin’s gaze was deep and cold. His silent stare stripped Bella of the last shreds of her dignity. “Mr. King,” she whispered, tears rolling down her cheeks. She wasn’t acting. Kevin was the sun she admired but could never touch. She had almost resigned herself to being marginalized. But to be seen like this… she wanted to push him away and run. In just two weeks, the once cheerful and lively girl had become this fragile. It was the first time I’d ever seen Kevin truly angry. He came home and slammed the glass of water I handed him onto the floor. It shattered. “Why won’t you just leave her alone?” he roared. “Mary, I respect you, I love you. I’ve tolerated your insults and your cruelty towards her time and time again. What kind of pleasure do you get from bullying someone weaker than you?” I remembered then. When Kevin was studying abroad, his younger sister, who was in middle school, had jumped to her death because of school bullying. It was a scar on his heart that would never heal, something he despised with a passion. “Mary, don’t let me see you use these tactics to hurt someone ever again. If you do, I won’t stand by and watch!” I stared at the man who had lost control. It was the first time since we’d been married that Kevin had lost his temper with me, all for another woman, for something I hadn’t even done. It was a terrible feeling. Like shattered glass. Like spilled water that could never be recovered.

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The annual company gala was just around the corner, and a memo dropped: every department had to perform. The moment the news hit, our department’s group chat exploded. 【I signed up for a job, not a circus.】 【Why should we have to dance like monkeys for our corporate overlords?】 I pleaded with them. 【Come on, guys. I just got every single one of you a ten-thousand-dollar bonus and a week of paid vacation. Can you just help me out on this one?】 【That’s a separate issue. Don’t think just because you’re the manager and you throw us a few scraps, you can order us around!】 【Yeah, what she said! Let’s all just quit! Time for Gen Z to fix this toxic workplace!】 And so, I signed their resignation letters. “You want to quit? Fine. Approved.” 1 【To my dearest team: Per upper management’s request, the annual gala will feature a talent competition between departments, with prizes for the winning teams. Please feel free to share any and all ideas for our department’s performance.】 After sending the message, I waited, my stomach in knots. Ten minutes passed. The chat remained a digital graveyard. 【Look, I know getting on stage is a big ask for some of you,】 I typed, trying a softer approach. 【But it’s a directive from the top, so we don’t have much of a choice. How about we do something simple, like a group poetry reading?】 【I’m not aiming for any awards. We just need to get through this. There are a lot of us, so each person would only have to say a line or two. What do you think?】 After another agonizing silence, a single message broke the stillness. 【I’m here to work, not to be part of a talent show.】 That one sentence was a stone tossed into a still pond, and the ripples turned into a tidal wave. 【Exactly. We’re employees, not court jesters for a bunch of soulless suits.】 【Even zoos have banned animal performances. Are we supposed to be less than animals, parading around for their amusement?】 【I’m not a monkey. I’m not doing it.】 【Me neither!】 【Count me out!】 … I kept my cool, patiently trying to reason with them. 【This performance is a chance to showcase our department’s teamwork and unity, to show the higher-ups what we’re made of. I hope you won’t see it as a burden.】 【Ariel, if you want to go up there and sing a solo, be my guest. Just don’t drag us down with you.】 【I’m completely tone-deaf,】 I admitted, 【and the company requires full participation. But don’t worry, I’ll be right up there on stage with you all.】 【Slaving away nine-to-five is exhausting enough. Now we have to play the dancing monkey after hours to entertain the bosses?】 【What a garbage idea for a gala. No way I’m making a fool of myself like that.】 They spoke without a shred of restraint, completely ignoring the fact that I, their manager, was in the chat, reading every word. An icy chill crept from my heart out to my fingertips. I had expected some grumbling, but I never imagined such vehement opposition. Still, an order was an order. It had to be done. Left with no other choice, I humbled myself, practically begging. 【I’m just a worker bee like you guys. Please, don’t make this impossible for me.】 【I sympathize, Ariel, I really do. But sorry, I’m not getting on that stage.】 【Please, guys… think about the week-long, all-expenses-paid vacation I got for you, and the ten-thousand-dollar bonus for each of you. Just do this one thing for me. As a favor. Please?】 2 Though I was a department manager, I never pulled rank. I treated my team like friends, always going to bat for them, fighting for every possible perk and bonus. In the first half of the year, I’d secured that paid vacation for the entire department. In the second half, I’d wrangled a $10,000 bonus for every single person. These were benefits no other department received, extras that I had fought tooth and nail with the CEO for days to get. I knew their jobs were demanding, so I seized every opportunity to reward their hard work. Honestly, compared to other managers in the company, I was as good as it got. I believed that by fostering a friendship with my subordinates, they’d be more cooperative at work. I was wrong. 【That was then, this is now,】 one message read. 【Don’t think just because you’re the manager and you do us a few ‘favors,’ you can just boss us around!】 The person who sent that, Cassie, had once accidentally sent a client our internal cost sheet instead of the official price quote, a mistake that cost the company a fortune. The board wanted her fired. She came to my office, sobbing, begging me to intervene. At the management meeting, I took full responsibility. I offered up my entire year-end bonus to give her a second chance. I vividly remember how she cried with gratitude after the official penalty was announced, swearing she’d look up to me like an older sister forever. 【Yeah, you chose to fight the boss for that bonus. We didn’t force you. That’s your job. Stop acting like you’re doing us some grand charity.】 This came from Leo. He came from a poor family, and during his internship, his meager salary barely covered his rent, let alone the money he sent home for his father’s medical bills. To save money, he’d hide away at lunch to eat dry bread. When I found out, I started ordering him a proper meal every day, paying for it out of my own pocket. I covered his lunch for his entire final year of internship. He never once said thank you. And now, he had the gall to say something so cruel. 【That vacation and bonus were what we deserved for our hard work. It wasn’t a handout from you.】 And this from Audrey. She’d gone through a nasty divorce, and her ex-husband’s family had shown up at the office to cause a scene. She hid in my office, terrified, while I went out and faced them down. I even got a resounding slap across the face from her ex for my troubles. After the divorce, when she had nowhere to go, I let her stay with me for over six months. All my kindness, all my support… what did it get me? A bloody, brutal knife in the back. A sharp pain, like a needle piercing my chest, made my hand tremble as I held my phone. 【If you make me perform, I’ll quit!】 【That’s right! We’ll all quit! We’ll show these capitalists that the little guys have teeth!】 【I support this! Gen Z is here to fix the workplace!】 My fingers shaking, I typed out a single sentence. 【But you’re putting me in an impossible position.】 【Then you go talk to the execs, Ariel! Tell them we refuse to perform! Fight them just like you fought for our bonuses! Yell at the CEO! He’ll cave and cancel the whole thing!】 Each heartless word was like a bucket of ice water dumped over my head, chilling me to the bone. I took a deep, shuddering breath and closed my eyes, forcing myself to find some semblance of calm. If they had no regard for me, then I had no reason to indulge them any longer. I replied: 【I am not going to pick a fight with the CEO over something so trivial. The gala performance is happening. Every single person is required on stage. No exceptions, no excuses.】 3 After sending that message, I walked out of my office and found a quiet corner on the rooftop to sit. Of all the department managers in this company, I was the only one who ran my team this way. The others were all martinets, ruling with an iron fist, barking orders, and using performance metrics as a weapon. Their departments were pressure cookers of anxiety, where employees tiptoed around in fear of making the smallest mistake. But not mine. I had always been gentle, cultivating a relaxed and cheerful atmosphere. I never held metrics over their heads. When our team achieved something, I was the first to bang on the CEO’s door demanding rewards. When someone made a mistake, I would rather take the hit myself than see them punished. If someone needed time off, I always approved it. I never, ever asked them to work overtime if a task could be completed during work hours. They were my subordinates, yes, but I treated them like my friends. We worked together, we joked together, and I genuinely cared for them. Sometimes, even the CEO, Nolan, couldn’t stand it. “There’s an old saying, Ariel,” he’d warned me. “Give them an inch, and they’ll take a mile. The kinder you are, the more entitled they’ll feel. Be careful they don’t walk all over you one day.” Back then, I didn’t believe a word of it. I even argued back. “No way, Nolan. I believe people are fundamentally good. Kindness begets kindness.” Today, I finally learned the truth. Kindness does not always beget kindness. In their eyes, your kindness is weakness. Your compassion is an invitation to be exploited. In their minds, your position as manager automatically places you on the opposite side of the battlefield. How stupid I was. I let out a bitter laugh. So, so stupid. The sun was too bright, making my eyes water. I tried to wipe the tears away, but they just kept coming, soaking the palm of my hand. My phone buzzed incessantly in my pocket. The group chat was still lighting up. I pulled it out. They were now seriously discussing a mass resignation. The ringleader was a Gen Z girl, Iris Quinn. 【Hah, calls herself one of us? A ‘worker bee’? Look at her now, toeing the corporate line. Helping the boss push us around.】 【See? I told you her ‘niceness’ was all an act! She plays the good guy to win people over, but the second there’s a problem, she throws us under the bus! The mask is off!】 【Her Majesty is tired of this pathetic job. I quit.】 【This is just heartbreaking. I’m out too.】 【Let’s all walk out together. We’ll see how the company functions without us.】 I scanned the chat history. It was Iris who first brought up the idea of a mass resignation, and she was the one fanning the flames. It was also her who sent the first inflammatory message after my initial announcement: 【I’m here to work, not to be part of a talent show.】 I remembered her. A young girl, fresh out of college. She’d flubbed her first interview, she was so nervous. She had begged me for another chance, and my heart softened. I arranged a second interview for her, and that’s how she got the job. Because she was so young, I’d always looked out for her, even running interference and taking drinks for her at company functions. I never thought that the same girl who called me “sis” every day would be the first to plunge the knife into my back. And then encourage everyone else to give it a twist. You really can’t judge a book by its cover. And so, I typed one last message into the group chat. 【Fine. For those of you resigning, please submit your formal letters.】 The chat went dead silent. They probably expected me to do what I always did: coax them, plead with them, give them an easy way out. They thought I would march into the CEO’s office and fight their battle, forcing him to cancel the performance. That would have been their victory. But they never, ever imagined that this time, I had no intention of playing their game. 4 As I walked back from the rooftop, I could hear the commotion from my office before I even reached the door. “So we quit! What’s the big deal? It’s time for us worker bees to unite and fight back against these ridiculous rules!” It was Iris, riling everyone up again. I frowned. What was she trying to achieve by pushing everyone to quit? What was in it for her if the entire department walked out? Another, more timid voice piped up. “I don’t know… quitting over something like this seems a bit extreme. I actually like my job here.” Iris’s voice boomed. “What are you afraid of? Ariel is just bluffing. She’d never dare to actually sign off on our resignations. We’re just calling her bluff, threatening her.” “How can you be so sure she won’t sign them?” “Trust me. I know Ariel. She’ll come groveling, begging us to stay. Think about it: if we all leave, who’s going to do her work? The department will grind to a halt, the higher-ups will come down on her, and she’ll be the one getting fired.” “She’s right. Ariel can’t afford to lose us. The company can’t afford it either!” “Let’s all hand in our letters together! That’ll scare the hell out of them!” Amid the roar of righteous indignation, a softer female voice emerged. “Actually… I don’t think we should be doing this. Manager Shaw has always been really good to us.” I was taken aback. I never expected anyone to speak up for me at a time like this. “She’s one of them, a corporate stooge! All that ‘goodness’ is fake, just a way to manipulate us. Julie, don’t let her get in your head.” “No, that’s not true! Think about it. Our department gets better bonuses and more perks than anyone else in the company. Those are real benefits. If she was just faking it, why would she go out of her way to piss off the CEO and fight for us?” “That’s her job as a manager, isn’t it?” “Have you all forgotten? The team-building hike last year? She bought every single one of us a pair of expensive running shoes with her own money. And on Valentine’s Day, she gave us all the day off against the CEO’s direct orders and got chewed out for it.” A warmth spread through my chest, chasing away the chill. My eyes began to sting. “And this year,” Julie’s voice grew thick with emotion, “she got us that ten-thousand-dollar bonus. Last year it was six thousand. Nobody else in the company gets that. If she didn’t genuinely care about us, why would she do all that extra work?” “She benefits too, obviously! When we get bonuses, she probably gets a bigger one. She’s not doing it for us, she’s doing it for herself.” “That’s not true! She doesn’t get a cut of those bonuses. They’re only for us. I overheard her telling the CEO that she didn’t want a bonus for herself, she just wanted the company to give more to her staff. You can ask someone in finance if you don’t believe me.” I was deeply moved. Julie Reed. The quiet girl who always sat in the corner, a virtual unknown. It turned out she was the only one who had been paying attention, the only one who remembered everything I’d done. Iris turned on her. “What’s your point, Julie? We bust our asses all year, and now we’re being forced to perform like circus animals for the bosses. You think that’s fair?” Julie was flustered. “That’s not what I mean! Ariel said everyone who performs gets a prize, and she’d even give us extra cash from her own pocket. I just think… getting on stage for a few minutes isn’t that big of a deal.” “Looks like you’ve been brainwashed so long you can’t even stand up straight anymore.” “Ariel is just an employee, too! If we have a problem, we should take it up with the CEO. Why are we making her life miserable? It’s his order, she can’t defy it!” “She’s in that position, she gets that salary, so she has to deal with our pushback!” “Yeah! Pushback! Pushback!” As the chants of protest reached a fever pitch, I walked in as if nothing was wrong and calmly took my seat at the head of the conference table. My gaze swept across the room. My voice was cold steel. “For those of you who wish to resign, I’m accepting your letters now.” 5 They had never seen me like this, so stern and unyielding. Fear and confusion flickered in their eyes. “I’m quitting!” Iris Quinn stepped forward from the crowd, slapping a piece of paper onto the table in front of me. “This company has no respect for its employees. It’s inhumane. I wouldn’t want to work here anyway.” “Good for you. Points for having a spine.” I picked up her resignation letter and looked at the others. “Anyone else?” “Don’t be afraid, everyone! Even if we leave, the world is a big place!” The others exchanged uncertain glances, hesitating. Iris’s voice rose again. “Don’t worry! My uncle just started a new company. It’s brand new, and they’re desperate for people. The pay and benefits are way better than here! If we really get fired, I can get all of you jobs at my uncle’s company.” Her words were like a magic pill, calming their frayed nerves. A flicker of understanding sparked in my mind. I finally understood why Iris was so eager to incite a mass exodus. I said nothing, just watched her with a faint, knowing smile. My stare seemed to unnerve her. A bead of sweat trickled down her temple, but she stood her ground. “Don’t be scared, everyone! Show some backbone! They won’t dare fire all of us!” Her words ignited their passion once more. “I quit!” “Me too!” One by one, the resignation letters piled up on my desk. After everyone else had submitted theirs, one last person slowly shuffled forward. “Julie, you’re quitting too?” “Manager Shaw… I’m so sorry, I didn’t want to pressure you…” I waved a hand dismissively. “You don’t have to explain. I know.” Iris stood there, wearing a triumphant smirk. “Well, Ariel? All of us have resigned now. What are you going to tell the CEO?” “That’s not your concern.” Cassie couldn’t help but chime in. “Manager Shaw, we’re not trying to force your hand. All we want is for you to cancel the gala performance. That’s a simple request. Surely you can do that for us?” I chuckled. “Oh, I can. But I don’t want to.” A flicker of panic crossed Cassie’s face. “Why not?” “Because you’re not worth it.” A notification pinged on my phone. I glanced at it, then neatly stacked the pile of resignation letters, stood up, and walked out of the room. I tried to project an aura of calm control, but no one knew that the moment I stepped out of that office, my knees nearly gave out. The message was from the CEO. And everyone knows the CEO Law of Texting: the shorter the message, the deeper the trouble you’re in. His text had only two words: 【My office.】 Seeing those two words, my vision swam. A single thought screamed through my mind: “I’m screwed.” What was I going to tell him? How could I possibly explain this? I took a few deep breaths, trying to steady myself. And then, an idea began to form.

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My father watched me from the back of his Maybach as I picked through the trash on the street. He ignored the jeers and insults of my classmates standing beside him, his eyes filled with nothing but approval. A moment later, the luxury car sped away, leaving me in its wake. I was still staring after it when a sudden force shoved me to the grimy pavement. A devilish laugh rang out beside me. “Look at the little stray, dreaming of being a princess?” “That’s what you get for staring at a Maybach you’ll never touch.” 1 My father has always lived by a single, unwavering truth: what comes too easily is never cherished. Especially money. That single sentence defined the first six years of my life. I didn’t truly understand what it meant until my sixth birthday. I stood before a cake so tall I had to crane my neck to see the top, dressed in a designer princess gown that cost thousands. That was when he made his announcement. “From this day forward, you are responsible for yourself. I will no longer cover any of your living expenses.” He knelt, his voice deceptively gentle. “Don’t blame your father, Karen. Only by understanding how hard money is to come by will you have a chance to truly rise above.” I barely understood, blinking as I swallowed a mouthful of sweet cream. Looking back, I think that was the last piece of cake I ever ate. It was so sweet. So sweet that every time I remember it, a bitter taste floods my mouth. From that day on, my world was turned upside down. No more new, beautiful clothes and shoes; I had to cram my growing feet into old pairs that were painfully small. No more car waiting to pick me up from school; I walked the three miles home with our housekeeper every day. I didn’t even get new pencils or erasers, and the shame of wanting to borrow one from someone else always silenced me. I cried. I threw tantrums. I made threats. But in the end, I was forced to accept my new reality—the brilliant, celebrated entrepreneur on the covers of business magazines, my father, had no more money to spend on me. 2 I don’t know how I survived those six years of elementary school. The house provided no lunch, as that fell under the category of my “self-reliance.” My first-grade teacher, Ms. Gable, couldn’t bear to watch me sit in the classroom, stomach growling, day after day. She started giving me her own lunch. She tried to speak to my father privately. “Karen is at a critical age for her development. The school offers a lunch program, it’s not expensive. She can’t keep going hungry like this.” My father gave her a few dismissive platitudes and said nothing more. When I got home from school that day, he turned to me and asked, “How have you been getting lunch these days?” I suspected nothing. I sang my teacher’s praises. “Ms. Gable gives me her food! She’s the best teacher in the whole world!” My father’s face instantly darkened, his expression twisting into a mask of fury. He declared that Ms. Gable was obstructing my development. He claimed that hunger was the very crucible that had forged his success. He would not permit such a “stumbling block” to stand in my way. Not long after, my father, under his personal name, donated a new library wing to the school. The donation came with a subtle, yet unmissable, suggestion: the kind-hearted, soft-spined teacher had to go. The school administration, though baffled, complied. Ms. Gable, hounded and pressured, resigned a few weeks later. I cried until I couldn’t breathe that day, trapped in a vortex of guilt, regretting my innocent words. But the true despair came from the crushing realization that there was nothing I could do. At that age, with wings not yet grown, I was nothing but a pawn, moved by forces I couldn’t fight. My new teacher, having learned a valuable lesson, wouldn’t even give me a second glance. To fill my stomach, I had to find another way. I started secretly packing leftover breakfast to take to school. Our housekeeper discovered my scheme and, in a self-righteous tone, reported my “terrible misdeed” to my father over the phone. He rushed back from a business trip and made me stand in the corner all night. “This is cheating!” he thundered. “Have you resigned yourself to being a spoiled, useless brat?” I sobbed, arguing back. “I’m not! I’m just starving!” I clung to the sleeve of his expensive suit, begging him. “I just don’t want to be hungry anymore. Please, just give me two dollars a day. A dollar, even one dollar would be enough!” He slapped my hand away, his eyes cold steel. “Only those who grow strong in adversity are worthy of success. Stop looking for handouts. Instead of begging me, you should be using your own two hands to earn it.” “I’ve asked! But no one will hire a six-year-old!” He scoffed, a cruel smirk on his face, as if mocking a piece of rotten wood that could never be carved. “If no one will hire you, then collect cans. Sell scrap. You have a healthy body. Do I really need to think of ways for you to make money for you?” 3 I had no other choice. I did as he said. Slowly, a powerful sense of unreality and dissociation began to consume me. I lived in the most luxurious townhouse in the city but couldn’t afford a new workbook for class. I’d overhear my father discussing hundred-million-dollar projects while my mind was calculating whether the recycling center in the South End or the North End paid more per pound for aluminum. At night, I would dream of the enviable life I once had, only to wake up crying into my pillow. The cruelest torture isn’t never having something. It’s having it all, only to have it ripped away. I couldn’t stop thinking about how I used to be the center of attention in kindergarten, about the fleeting fatherly love I’d once felt. I remembered the other kids gathering around, admiring my shimmering dress, my brand-new backpack. I remembered my father lifting me high above his head, promising he would pour all his love into me. Then I’d open my eyes to the brutal present. I had become the withdrawn, sullen girl named Karen Murphy. In third grade, a boy from the class next door, Blake Vance, discovered I was collecting recyclables after school. He seized the opportunity to mock my ill-fitting clothes and the once-prized backpack that was now tattered and worn. In front of everyone, he snatched my bag and threw it down the hallway. “Someone birthed you, but no one’s raising you. You look like you stink,” he sneered. My face flushed with shame. “I have a dad! He raises me!” “Tsk,” Blake said, wiping his hands as if he’d touched something disgusting. “Then your dad must be a total loser.” A fire ignited in my chest. “He’s not a loser! He’s the CEO of a company! He’s a hundred times better than your dad!” Blake laughed, a loud, cruel sound. He loomed over me, pressing a hand on my shoulder. “Oh yeah? What’s his name?” I shrank back, my confidence wavering. “Marcus Murphy.” “You mean the Marcus Murphy? The one on TV?” “Yeah.” His grin turned even more malevolent. “Alright. Next week is the parent-teacher conference. If he shows up, I’ll believe you.” I gritted my teeth. “You’ve got a deal.” 4 Deep down, I knew the chances of my father showing up to a parent-teacher conference were close to zero. But I couldn’t swallow the insult. To my complete astonishment, my father brought it up himself. “I admit, I have been neglecting you,” he said, his voice surprisingly mild. “I’ll be at the conference on time. I want to see if you’ve managed to balance your academics while supporting yourself.” The carefully rehearsed speech I had prepared for hours was suddenly useless. It wasn’t just about some stupid bet; it was about the fact that for three years, my seat at these conferences had always been empty. So I nodded vigorously, my heart soaring with anticipation. On the afternoon of the conference, I scrubbed my desk until it shone, wanting to present my absolute best self. I stood by the classroom door, craning my neck, but the person who finally arrived was a stranger—a disheveled man in tattered, ill-fitting clothes. He pushed past me and bellowed from the doorway, “I’m Karen Murphy’s father. Where do I sit?” The few students who had stayed behind to help the teacher all snapped their heads in my direction. They’d all heard about my bet with Blake. Now, seeing this man, they concluded I had lied, and their faces filled with a mixture of pity and contempt. I was bewildered. “Who are you? You’re not my father.” The teacher, hearing my words, looked over, her expression wary. But then, as if remembering the invisible, powerful hand that loomed over me, she seemed to decide that minding her own business was the path of least resistance. After a moment of internal conflict, she stepped down from the front of the class. “Mr. Murphy, your seat is in the third row.” The man shuffled over, deliberately pulling a hole in his grimy jacket to the front. I was about to protest when Blake and his friends cornered me, pulling me aside. For the entire hour, they peppered me with questions, laughing and taunting, making it impossible for me to escape. Tears of frustration welled in my eyes. “Now you’re getting desperate!” one of them jeered. “Should’ve thought about that before you started lying. Blake’s family is powerful. You’ve really stepped in it now.” When I finally managed to squeeze out of their circle and get back to the classroom, the conference was over. I stood there, crestfallen, searching the emptying room for any sign of my father. I scanned every face, but eventually, I had to admit the crushing truth: he had lied to me. The lights in the classroom went out. I dragged my heavy feet toward the exit. Just as I stepped out of the school gates, the man who had claimed to be my father stopped me. He awkwardly fiddled with the hole in his jacket. “Alright, job’s done. Time to pay up.” I looked up, stunned. “Pay for what?” “My acting fee! Two hundred bucks. The guy who hired me said to get the cash from my ‘daughter.’” Acting fee? So, when my father said he would attend my conference, he meant he would hire a stranger to take his place? The man saw my silence and started patting down my pockets. “Come on, hurry up. I’ve got another gig to get to.” “I don’t have any money!” I backed away from him. “Then why’d you hire me? I had to buy this whole getup special for the part! I need to be reimbursed for that too!” He wouldn’t give up, wrestling with me for a moment before finding a single dime in my pocket. The sidewalk was bustling with people, so he didn’t dare get more aggressive. Finally, he gave up, muttering under his breath, “What a waste of time. I’ll just go find the guy who hired me myself. Seemed like a big shot, telling me to get money from a little kid. What a world.” 5 Even as a child, it didn’t take a genius to understand what he meant. My father had deliberately hired an actor, instructed him to dress in rags, and sent him to my school to pose as my father. He’d even made sure I would be the one to pay the actor’s fee. A firestorm of rage burned in my chest. When my father returned home, I confronted him, my face red with fury. “Don’t you want to be my father anymore? Are you trying to give me away?” He shot me a cool, dismissive glance. “Consider that two hundred dollars a loan. Karen, you need to reflect on your mistakes.” Before he could retreat to his study, I stepped in front of him, blocking his path. “What mistakes? Tell me what I did wrong!” He rubbed his temples, his patience clearly wearing thin. “It’s been three years, and you haven’t shown an ounce of growth. You’re nine years old now. You should be able to understand what I mean by ‘self-reliance.’ “Why were you so eager to broadcast my name at school? What was your motive? It’s simple. You wanted your classmates to treat you differently, to admire you.” I was baffled. How did he know so much about what happened at school? But I had no time to dwell on that. “That wasn’t it at all! Besides, you are my father. Is that something I’m supposed to hide?” He didn’t answer, just stared me down with his usual intimidating presence. It was the judgment of a king, cold and absolute. Finally, he spoke. “I have gone to such lengths to forge your character. And still, you disappoint me. You’re just like your mother—vain, foolish, and utterly superficial.” His eyes narrowed into slits, a clear warning. “I never want to see you trying to use my status to your advantage again. From this day on, outside of this house, you will refer to me as Mr. Murphy. I need a worthy heir, not a shallow girl begging for the spotlight.” 6 I wanted to argue, but the words died in my throat. I knew it would be a waste of breath. Better to save my energy. Worse than my father’s misunderstanding was the ridicule from my classmates. After the parent-teacher conference, my life at school became a living hell. I earned a new nickname: “The Liar.” My classmates, whom I had known for three years, laughed with abandon, their taunts growing more merciless by the day. “Your dad is Marcus Murphy? Nice try, piggybacking on someone famous just because you share a last name.” “If you had even one other shirt to wear, we might have actually believed you for a second.” “Liar, that shirt of yours is so worn it’s shiny. Have you no shame?” Honestly, I never understood where all their malice came from. Maybe it was fear of Blake. Or maybe it was a desperate attempt to fit in with the crowd. Or perhaps, it was their righteous crusade against a “liar.” Blake, of course, led the charge. He had other kids draw humiliating cartoons of me and passed them around. He posted “guards” at the girls’ bathroom to block me from entering, proclaiming that someone with such “low morals” wasn’t allowed to use public school facilities. I was going to tell the teacher. I even made it to the staff room door, but I stopped when I overheard his voice. “You think you have it bad? I’m the one walking on eggshells here,” he sighed to another teacher. “I don’t even dare look at Karen Murphy, terrified I’ll end up like her last teacher. Her father is some kind of lunatic, I swear. I’m constantly worried I’ll lose my job because of her. Why did I have to get stuck with this class…” Someone replied, “But the poor girl… I heard she’s being targeted constantly. You should probably intervene a little.” “Intervene? Are you crazy?” he shot back. “I’m not touching that situation with a ten-foot pole. It’s a lose-lose. Besides, the kid tormenting her isn’t just anybody. His family has connections. I’m not getting dragged into that mess.” I stood silently outside the office for a long moment. I lowered the hand I had raised to knock and turned away. No one was going to hold an umbrella for me. Fine, I thought. I’ll just learn to grow in the rain. 7 I grew up in that suffocating climate of exclusion and isolation, and gradually, I became numb. By the time I started middle school, I was an expert at surviving by collecting cans and bottles, barely staving off hunger with cheap bread. Plastic bottles, aluminum cans, cardboard boxes—I took whatever I could find. But life felt like a cruel cycle, the same hardships replaying themselves over and over. Not long after the first semester of seventh grade began, I was caught in the act. I was at a barbecue stand, stomping an aluminum can flat under my shoe, when my father’s Maybach glided out of the darkness and pulled up to the curb. Before I could even process his presence, Jessica and a few other classmates materialized out of nowhere. She stood behind me, pointing. “See? I told you I wasn’t lying. I’ve never had a garbage-picker for a classmate before. It’s so embarrassing.” My hand, clutching a woven plastic bag, froze. I turned to look at her. A boy next to her smirked. “This isn’t my first time. The Liar was pretty famous back in elementary school. Right, Karen?” I followed the voice and my body went rigid. It was Blake Vance. How could it be him? I had specifically applied to a school as far away as possible to avoid him. My fists clenched, and I instinctively glanced toward the car. My father had to have heard them. A tiny sliver of hope flickered in my chest. Maybe this time, just this once, he would stand up for me. All the past incidents… I could forgive them if I told myself he just hadn’t trusted me. But this was different. The truth was happening right in front of his eyes. He couldn’t possibly turn a blind eye now. But he remained deaf to it all. His gaze fell on the crushed can at my feet and the tattered bag in my hand. A smile of pure approval spread across his face, as if to say, Good. You’re learning to cast aside your pride, to temper your spirit. I’m being bullied! Can’t you see that, Dad? The next second, the tinted window of the backseat began to rise, sealing him away from my view. Then, the luxury car sped off into the night. I was still staring after it, my heart a stone in my chest, when a sudden force shoved me to the grimy pavement. A devilish laugh rang out beside me. “Look at the little liar, dreaming of being a princess?” “Still dreaming your daddy is some rich tycoon? That’s what you get for staring at a Maybach you’ll never touch.” Sharp gravel bit into my palms, drawing blood. “So,” Blake drawled, “what should your punishment be this time?” I looked up at the circle of sneering faces, and a hot rage surged through me. For a split second, I wanted to take them all down with me. I ripped the cans from my bag and started hurling them, one by one. They scrambled to dodge the projectiles. I was like a wild animal, swinging the entire bag, sending a spray of stale beer and soda over their clothes and shoes. “What right do you have to laugh at me?” I screamed, my voice raw. “My life is harder than yours, yes, but my heart is a thousand times cleaner than any of yours! Being poor isn’t a crime, but having a filthy soul and a rotten character is! You’re the disgusting ones, the ones who should be ashamed! You don’t even deserve to be my classmates!” 8 But in the end, my strength was no match for theirs. As they closed in, kicking and punching, my homeroom teacher, Ms. Albright, appeared out of nowhere and pulled them off me. She called their parents and explained the situation. Jessica’s mother, without hesitation, slapped her daughter across the face. “Are you tired of the good life I’ve given you? Your grades are terrible, and now your character is turning rotten too! How did I raise a daughter like you? If you were half as responsible as Karen, I’d be content!” Jessica said nothing, just glared at me with pure, unadulterated hatred. Blake’s parents never showed up. They offered a lukewarm apology over the phone. I knew their type. They had connections. If I pushed for a real consequence, I’d probably end up in a worse position. So I swallowed my anger and let it go. After they had all left, Ms. Albright turned to me. “Is this how you get by?” I nodded. She didn’t press further. “Let me see your hands,” she said, gently examining my scrapes. “Okay, it’s not too bad. But let’s get you to a clinic, just to be safe.” I shook my head firmly. A clinic visit cost money, the one thing I never had. In all these years, I’d never once been to a doctor. When I got sick, I just had to fight it off. Seeing my resolve, Ms. Albright sighed. “Alright. Do you have a parent’s contact number? I’ll call them to come pick you up.” I didn’t know what to say. After a long pause, I mumbled, “Thank you, but… please, just pretend I don’t have any.” Ms. Albright’s expression grew serious. “No parents?” I looked down, scrambling to invent a plausible lie to satisfy her. But I never imagined she would find the housekeeper’s number on my school file. My father, in his quest to hide his identity, had listed our housekeeper as my official guardian. Ms. Albright called and proposed a home visit. The housekeeper, terrified of losing her job, immediately refused. That evening, my father did something unprecedented. He canceled his work and was waiting at home when I returned. He confronted me the moment I walked in. “Whose idea was it to have your teacher come for a home visit?” “…It wasn’t my idea. I didn’t know anything about it,” I answered truthfully. He clearly didn’t believe me, his eyes filled with disappointment. “All these years, and you still can’t let go of your petty schemes. Karen, must you always look for the easy way out? Must you always try to parade my status around at school?” For six years, I hadn’t relied on him for a single cent. And still, he insisted on assuming the worst of me. I didn’t understand. I was his only child, his biological daughter. He’d even forgone remarrying for my sake. Why was earning a shred of his fatherly love harder than climbing to the moon? I didn’t back down this time. “What makes you so certain it was my idea? I call you ‘Dad,’ and I admit you’re a successful man, but why is it so damn hard to be your daughter? For years, I’ve survived on stale bread, too poor to even afford a side of pickles. I can’t get sick, I can’t have hobbies, and still, you look down on me! Just like right now—I’m standing here, visibly hurt, and you haven’t asked about it once. Can’t you see?” The words tumbled out, and only then did I realize tears were streaming down my face. A tidal wave of grief crashed over me, filling my entire chest. My father remained motionless, a statue of disapproval. Only when my sobs subsided did he finally speak. “You are injured because you have failed to build positive relationships with your peers. You lack interpersonal skills, and it is only through such setbacks that you will grow. The business world is a treacherous place, filled with sharks. You need to learn how to turn enemies into allies on your own, not rely on my power to clear every obstacle for you. Just like today. You were clearly crying out for my help, but in reality, they hadn’t caused you any serious harm. Karen, you are too soft. I am doing this for your own good. Stop trying to fight me at every turn.” It was like punching a mountain of cotton. I laughed, a bitter, helpless sound. Even a bully like Blake had parents to protect him. I wasn’t even granted the basic right to be cared for by my own father. A thought suddenly struck me. If I had no father at all, my life couldn’t possibly be any worse.

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1 After the catastrophic defeat at the Battle of the Crimson River, my senior, Zera, searched through ten thousand corpses before she found me, clinging to life in a sea of blood. I thought she was moved by my years of devotion. Instead, as I lay helpless, she carved out my Core of power. Zera looked down at me, her gaze imperious. “You were born with a divine essence. Forming a new Core is only a matter of time for you. But it took Kael a thousand years to reach this point.” “When we return to the Order, I will help you reform your Core. Don’t be ungrateful.” It had all been her plan from the start. I watched as she fused my power into Kael’s body. Eight hundred years. And in that moment, I finally admitted to myself: her heart was a stone I could never warm. … “Senior, your medicine for the day.” My junior acolyte tossed the bowl onto the table with cold indifference. The hot broth sloshed over the side, scalding my arm, but she didn’t even glance my way. Ever since I returned from the Crimson River, the acolytes who once begged me to teach them swordsmanship now treated me with nothing but contempt and scorn. I weakly called out to her as she turned to leave. “Please, ask Zera to come see me. I have something to discuss with her.” The acolyte scoffed, her words a torrent of abuse. “Senior Zera is at the Celestial Pool, helping Brother Kael heal! She has no time for you! I don’t know how you have the gall to even ask for her! The battle was lost because of you. Saving you was more than you deserved!” She stormed out, but her words echoed in my mind. Zera had taken Kael to the Celestial Pool. Everyone in the Order knew what that meant. A man and a woman, healing together in the Pool, could only be done through dual cultivation—a deeply intimate act. The defeat at the Crimson River… it wasn’t my fault. It was Kael who had foolishly trusted the Demon Lord’s lies. But to protect Kael, she had pinned all the blame on me. My heart felt like it was being battered by her words, the pain so sharp I could barely breathe. Despite her venom, the acolyte must have delivered my message. Zera returned to my chambers, but she brought Kael with her, leading him directly into the main bedroom. My vision turned red. “Zera! That is our bed! How can you let him sleep there?!” She ignored me, her brow furrowed in annoyance. She gently helped Kael lie down, her voice softening as she spoke to him. “You can rest here tonight. The Azurefall Palace is close to the Celestial Pool. It will be easier for me to take you for your treatments tomorrow.” That warm, gentle smile of hers was a rare sight. A sight Kael seemed to enjoy constantly. He took her hand. “Will you stay with me tonight? After the battle… I’m scared at night…” “Of course. I’ll stay.” She pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, then turned to face me, her expression instantly hardening into a cold mask. “Be quiet. If you wake Kael, I will place a silence spell on you.” I stared at her, my eyes blank, the fury slowly curdling into self-mockery. This was my palace, yet since she’d “saved” me, I’d been relegated to a crude servant’s cot. She had taken Kael, who had only lost some of his cultivation, to the Celestial Pool for intensive healing, while I, who had lost my very Core, was left here to rot. “Zera, the defeat at the Crimson River was not my fault. Go and make it clear to the Order. I will not bear the blame for Kael’s mistake.” Her brows drew together, her voice like ice. “Kael was looked down upon his whole life because he was born without a spiritual root. He was bullied relentlessly in the Order. If this news gets out, what do you think they will do to him?” “You were by his side when he first joined. Have you no empathy?” My body trembled, a pain like a knife twisting in my heart. “So I’m supposed to endure the scorn and hatred of my juniors?” “Yes,” she said, her voice casual, dismissive. “You are.” The ache in my chest tightened, making it hard to breathe. I broke into a violent fit of coughing. Zera waved her sleeve in front of her nose, a look of disgust on her face. She cast a silence spell on me without a second thought. “I told you,” she snapped, “don’t make any noise and wake Kael.” As our eyes met, the pain in my chest suddenly erupted, and a mouthful of blood sprayed from my lips. There was no pity in her eyes, only a deep-seated revulsion. “Disgusting. Clean it up yourself.” A faint cough came from the inner chamber. Her face immediately softened with worry, and she hurried back to Kael’s side. “Are you still uncomfortable? I’m here. I won’t leave you.” Her voice, so gentle for him, was like a razor blade to my ears. I closed my eyes, exhausted. I tossed and turned, but sleep would not come. Zera, this time, I am truly giving up on you. I wrote a letter to my parents, informing them of my decision to return to the Aethel Clan. Then I went to the back mountain to see my Master. He poured me a cup of tea, offering no resistance to my plan. “You were never truly meant for Spirit Mountain. I support your decision. But wait three days. Leave after the Grand Cultivator’s Assembly.” “I will.” Returning to the Azurefall Palace, I was met with a barrage of glares and whispered insults. This was the scorn Kael should have endured, but Zera’s favoritism had redirected it all to me. So this was what it meant to love someone. To bear the weight of their pain. Eight hundred years was a long time. Long enough, finally, for my heart to die. The journey back to my palace, once a simple flight on my sword, was now a long, arduous walk. Without my Core, I could no longer summon it. The image of Zera, her face a mask of ruthless determination as she tore my Core from my body, was seared into my mind. I was just a child when it happened. My parents and I were on a night hunt when we were ambushed by wraiths. Zera appeared, a vision in azure robes, her sword a blur of silver as she saved me. She stroked my hair, asking if I was hurt. Before she left, I grabbed the corner of her robe. “Sister, which Order are you from?” “Spirit Mountain. Zera.” The image of her, robes billowing as she walked away, was forever etched in my memory. I dedicated myself to my training, my only goal to one day join Spirit Mountain. When I first arrived, my Master saw the way I looked at Zera and chuckled. “Your Senior Sister is a solitary soul. It will take more than a little effort to win her favor.” He wasn’t wrong. Zera was cold and proud, barely deigning to look at me. To earn even a sliver of her attention, I trained relentlessly, winning first place in every disciple competition. The day I formed my Golden Core, the entire Order celebrated. I was the youngest to ever achieve such a feat. Zera finally started to notice me. I redoubled my efforts, baking her favorite osmanthus cakes, repairing her palace, taking on any task related to her. During a great battle against the demon race, I rushed to her side, saving her when she was on the verge of defeat. She fell gravely ill afterward, and I was the one who scoured the lands for rare herbs, the one who kept vigil by her bed. From that day on, her gaze softened from indifference to something akin to pity. It took four hundred years, but she finally agreed to be with me. Not out of love, but out of pity for my one-sided devotion. Even when we shared a bed, she remained distant. “I feel nothing for you, Joric. I will never love anyone in my life.” Her words didn’t deter me. As she slept, I would secretly hold her hand, whispering so softly the words were lost in the air, “I’m not greedy. Just being by your side is enough.” Slowly, her attitude toward me softened. Just as I was beginning to believe my persistence was paying off, that she might finally be falling in love with me, Kael appeared and shattered my illusions. Zera fell for him. The cold, distant woman I knew became warm and attentive to someone else. I confronted her, my eyes burning. “You said you would never love anyone!” Her face was etched with guilt, but she didn’t deny it. She had once told me she could only be attracted to someone stronger than herself. That’s why it hurt so much when she favored Kael. I had groveled and fought for a single glance from her, yet Kael had it all without lifting a finger. Four hundred years to get close to her. Another four hundred to be utterly disillusioned, to force myself to let her go. Kael was sitting in my usual meditation spot. When he saw me enter, he smiled, his voice dripping with malice. “Brother Joric, thank you for your Golden Core. It has helped me reach a level I never could have achieved on my own.” His tone shifted, becoming boastful. “Of course, I have Senior Sister Zera’s favoritism to thank for all of this.” I scoffed. “Something that isn’t yours can never truly be yours. What do you think will happen when the Order finds out the battle was lost because of you? How will the acolytes who already despise you treat you then?” His eyes narrowed, and he snarled, “You wouldn’t dare! Zera would never let you!” “Watch me.” A flicker of panic crossed his face, and he scrambled out of the room. I knew where he was going. To Zera, to cry and complain, to have her fight his battles for him. Finally, some peace. I sat down and began to cultivate. Without my Core, my body healed at a glacial pace. The wounds from the battle were a constant, throbbing ache. Zera came in with a bowl of medicine. “Drink this, Joric. I went to the Apothecary Pavilion myself to find these celestial herbs. They will help you reform your Core.” Her voice was gentle, making my heart tremble. But this time, it was useless. I kept my eyes closed. “I don’t need it.” She scooped up a spoonful, blew on it, and brought it to my lips. “Be good,” she cooed. “Let me feed you.” I slowly opened my eyes and met her tender gaze. “I spent all morning searching for these herbs. Now, drink up.” Under her coaxing, I opened my mouth and swallowed the medicine. She then produced a piece of candy from her sleeve and popped it into my mouth. “Such a good boy, my Joric,” she purred, smiling. “Kael told me you were planning on telling the Order the real reason for our defeat.” “If you let me feed you like this every day, you won’t say anything, will you?” It was the same smile, but this time, I saw the ice in her eyes. It was always for Kael. For him, she would endure anything, even this reluctant show of affection. The sweet candy suddenly tasted bitter. I turned my head away. “Zera, I can’t.” Instantly, her smile vanished, replaced by a storm of fury. “If you won’t be persuaded by kindness, then don’t blame me for being cruel.” 2 The Grand Cultivator’s Assembly proceeded as planned. After today, I would leave Spirit Mountain forever. The disciples gathered in the main hall, awaiting our Master. Zera presided from her high seat. “Our losses in the Battle of the Crimson River were severe,” she announced. “But we can take solace in the fact that, in our darkest hour, Kael saved the lives of many of our junior disciples.” The acolytes erupted in cheers, chanting Kael’s name, calling for him to come forward. Zera familiarly made space for him at her side, in the spot that had once been mine. They looked like a perfectly matched couple. She took his hand and declared, “Since his return, Kael’s cultivation has improved dramatically. I propose that Joric step down from his position as Sword Master, and that Kael take his place, leading our disciples in their training from this day forward.” The position of Sword Master… Zera had begged our Master to give it to me. He had thought I was too young, but she had knelt in the back mountains for half a month, pleading for him to give me a chance. She had said she couldn’t bear to see my talent wasted. Now, she was ruthlessly tearing it away from me. Kael shot me a triumphant smirk. “Sorry, Brother Joric,” he whispered. “Zera was worried you’d spill the beans about the battle. She had to make sure everyone would despise you.” Zera walked toward me, her face a cold mask. “To convince everyone,” she said, her voice devoid of emotion, “you will duel Kael.” The disciples roared their approval. It was a perfect trap. Whether I fought or not, I was doomed. To be defeated by Kael without my Core would be the ultimate humiliation. I forced a tight smile. “I will give him the position voluntarily. There is no need for a duel.” “That won’t do,” Zera said, raising her hand. With a flick of her wrist, a spell sent me flying onto the dueling platform. Kael landed opposite me on his sword, bowing with false sincerity. “My apologies, Senior Brother.” My Core had supercharged his power. He came at me with killing intent. I had no way to defend myself. The duel was a one-sided slaughter. I was left broken and defeated on the platform. The disciples looked at me with contempt. “He’s the reason so many of us died! He’s finally getting what he deserves!” Kael raised his sword in victory. “I am the victor!” The hall erupted in cheers. Zera, her face beaming, announced, “Good! Then the position of Sword Master now belongs to—” Before she could finish, I forced myself to my feet. “There’s no need to humiliate me further. I am leaving the Spirit Mountain Order. I will never set foot here again.” As my words echoed in the silent hall, the main doors swung open. Our Master strode in, his voice a sharp rebuke. “Enough of this foolishness!”

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A year into my overseas assignment, my daughter sent a selfie. “Daddy, I miss you,” read the message. Her downcast face made my heart ache—until I noticed a red scratch on her neck and dark bruises on her arm. Scrolling in shock, I found a post from Stella, the girl we’d taken in. It showed her birthday gifts—designer goods spread out, with my daughter Melinda’s beloved doll perched on her headboard. I called my wife, Leah. “It’s just an old doll,” she dismissed. But checking Stella’s spending on my card confirmed my worst fears. The real shock? My wife was letting it happen. 1 I had just closed a massive, multi-million dollar contract with our biggest international client when Melinda’s selfie popped up on my phone. Seeing the shadow in her eyes, that forced little smile, was a knife to the heart. My first instinct was to tell her I was wrapping things up, that I’d be home in a few days and we’d take that vacation she’d always wanted. But the sight of those faint, half-hidden injuries stopped me cold. I decided to play it carefully. I tried asking a few gentle questions, but her replies were jumbled and vague. Then, she just stopped replying altogether. Hoping to get a sense of her life lately, I checked her social media, but it was quiet. That’s when I saw the post from Stella, our sponsored daughter, from the day before. She was flaunting a haul of new things. What made my breath catch wasn’t the expensive handbag, but the doll sitting on her headboard. Melinda’s doll. The one she’d treasured for years. I vividly remembered a trip to her grandma’s when we’d forgotten it; Melinda had cried herself into a fever so high we’d feared the worst. After that, the doll went with us everywhere. It was her constant companion, her furry little confidant. I called Leah. Her voice was clipped, impatient. “She’s thirteen, Todd. She’s growing up. It’s perfectly normal for her to outgrow a doll.” “Maybe Melinda just didn’t want it anymore and gave it to Stella,” she added dismissively. “Look, just focus on your work. Don’t overthink things.” Then she hung up. Her sharp, defensive tone set off alarm bells. This wasn’t the Leah I knew, or at least, the one I thought I knew. She used to be so fiercely protective of Melinda. I remembered Melinda tripping on the sidewalk as a toddler, and Leah had scooped her up, tears in her own eyes, insisting on a trip to the emergency room. She couldn’t have forgotten the incident with the doll and the fever; it had terrified both of us. But over the last couple of years, a distance had grown. Now, if Melinda got a cut, Leah would just tell her to grab the first-aid kit and deal with it herself. My mind was made up. I handed off the final details of the project to my colleague and booked the first flight home. While waiting at the gate, I opened Stella’s social media profile again. This time, it was completely blank. A wall of privacy settings. I remembered I had an old, unused account that I’d added her on ages ago. I logged in. Her profile was still there, public and proud. She had simply blocked me. I scrolled through the photos, my unease turning to cold fury. Everything she wore, everything she owned, was high-end luxury. A thirteen-year-old girl with a limited edition Louis Vuitton bag. The necklace she was wearing? I did a quick search. It was worth over ten thousand dollars. She was a girl from a disadvantaged background we’d agreed to sponsor. Where was she getting this kind of money? I had always taught my own daughter, Melinda, the value of humility. Her most expensive outfit probably cost less than a hundred bucks. Desperate for answers, I called our housekeeper and our driver. But their answers only deepened the mystery. They spoke of Stella in glowing terms, a chorus of praise. They said she was incredibly frugal, wearing her clothes until they were faded and worn. The more they praised her, the more I felt like I was listening to a script. As if they had all rehearsed their lines. If Stella was so thrifty, then how could she afford designer bags and diamond necklaces? Or was I truly losing my mind? 2 When my team heard I was flying back, they all offered to pick me up from the airport, joking that after a year away, they might not even recognize their own boss anymore. These past few years had been a blur. I’d clawed my way up from nothing, starting a company that was now finally taking off. This last year was the most critical, a whirlwind of travel that had kept me away from my family far more than I’d liked. Before the plane had even taken off, I was already staring out the window, picturing the moment I’d see Leah and my precious daughter. Three hours later, I landed. I turned down my colleagues’ invitations for a welcome-back dinner and grabbed a cab straight home. It was eleven at night, a time when the house should have been dark and silent. But a light was still on in Melinda’s room. I let myself in quietly, not wanting to disturb anyone. I crept up the stairs and peered into her room. She was at her desk, hunched over a textbook, her face etched with anxiety, her eyes hollow and unfocused. My heart clenched. The amount of homework they piled on these kids was criminal. I pushed the door open, ready to surprise her. The moment she heard the sound, she flinched, her arms flying up to shield her face in a reflexive, terrified gesture. She curled into herself like a cornered animal. “Melinda, it’s okay,” I said softly. “It’s me. It’s Dad.” Hearing my voice, she froze. A second later, she launched herself into my arms, burying her face in my chest. “Dad! You’re finally back!” she sobbed, a torrent of silent tears streaming down her face. She was trying so hard not to make a sound, as if afraid of waking someone up. I held her tight, stroking her back. “I’m back, sweetie. I’m back. Why are you still up doing homework so late?” I reached for the notebook on her desk, but she snatched it away. It was too late. I’d already seen the name written on the cover. Stella Vance. It wasn’t her homework. Just then, a figure appeared in the doorway, her voice a saccharine-sweet murmur. “Dad, when did you get back?” It was Stella. I looked from her to the notebook in Melinda’s hands. “Stella, why is your homework in Melinda’s room?” A flicker of panic crossed Stella’s eyes, but her gaze shifted pointedly to Melinda. “My sister saw I had too much work, so she offered to help me out.” Melinda’s head dropped. “It’s… it’s true,” she mumbled, her voice trembling. “I offered to help my sister. It has nothing to do with her.” Her whole body was shaking, a leaf in the wind. I wasn’t buying it. I kept my eyes fixed on Stella. She just shrugged, a small, smug smile playing on her lips. “You heard her. She offered. I didn’t force her.” She paused, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “Right, sis?” That one word, drawn out and laced with poison, made the color drain from Melinda’s face. “Yes, sister,” she whispered. Seeing her so small, so humbled, in her own home sent a fresh wave of rage through me. She was supposed to be the princess of this house, not cowering before an outsider. “Stella,” I said, my voice low and firm. “Take your homework and go do it yourself. It’s time you learned to handle your own responsibilities.” Stella didn’t dare argue. She snatched the notebook and stalked back to her room. As I drew Melinda close, I finally saw the full extent of it. The dark circles under her eyes were deep trenches, signs of chronic exhaustion. But it was her complexion that truly shocked me. She was sallow, gaunt, a shadow of the vibrant, rosy-cheeked girl I’d left behind a year ago. She clung to my hand, her grip desperate. “Dad, you’re not leaving again, are you?” The plea in her voice was heartbreaking. “No, sweetie. I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here with you.” In my relentless pursuit of success, I’d convinced myself that providing for her was the ultimate expression of love. Now, I saw how wrong I was. I had built a gilded cage but had neglected the soul of the person inside it. No amount of money could replace a father’s presence. I asked her where her mom was. Melinda’s eyes darted nervously towards the door. “Mom said she had something at the office. She’ll be home late tonight.” More questions. Leah’s company had work this late? I told Melinda it was time for bed, but she refused to let go of me, insisting on sleeping in my room. I relented, setting her up in the master bed while I made a spot for myself on the floor. I read her a story, and once she seemed a bit more relaxed, I gently brought up the marks on her neck and arms. Her eyes shot towards the closed door, wide with fear. She stammered for a moment before finally mumbling, “Don’t ask, Dad. Please. I was just… clumsy.” Seeing the terror in her eyes, I didn’t push. But a thorn had lodged itself in my heart. She was in the prime of her youth, a time that should be filled with laughter and light. Instead, she was withdrawn and fearful. The guilt was a physical weight on my chest, a constant reminder of my own neglect. I decided then and there to put work on hold. My only job now was to be a father, to take my daughter away from this house, to help her heal. I tried calling Leah, thinking I could convince her to come home, to be with her daughter. Her response was sharp and dismissive. “I’m busy, Todd. I’ve partnered with a friend on a new startup. You be with her.” A new startup? This was the first I was hearing of it. But this was Leah’s way. She made decisions, and I was always the last to know. I’d grown used to it. Two years ago, she had brought Stella home without warning. She’d said the girl’s story broke her heart, that she was worried Melinda was lonely and needed a companion. I had been against it. Sponsoring her was one thing, but bringing her into our home felt like a massive overstep. Leah gave me the silent treatment until I caved, just to keep the peace. But from the moment Stella arrived, she acted less like a grateful guest and more like a conqueror. She saw Melinda’s beautifully decorated room and demanded it for herself. She helped herself to Melinda’s favorite snacks without asking. Leah dismissed my complaints, saying Stella was just “spirited” and “genuine.” I had hoped having another girl in the house would bring Melinda out of her shell. Instead, it seemed to have plunged her into a quiet, premature sorrow. I couldn’t let my ambition rob my daughter of her childhood. Watching Melinda finally drift off into a peaceful sleep, a small smile touched my lips. But a sudden shout from downstairs shattered the silence, and I felt Melinda jolt awake in the bed, startled. I slipped out of the room. Down in the living room, Stella was sprawled on the couch, controller in hand, screaming at the TV. 3 “You bunch of idiots! Do you even know how to play?” My fingers curled into fists, my knuckles white. “Stella, keep it down,” I warned, my voice tight. “Melinda’s asleep.” She didn’t even glance at me, her eyes glued to the screen. “Who cares if she’s sleeping? Don’t bother me, I’m about to lose!” The sheer audacity of it, the absolute certainty that she was untouchable in my own home. I walked over to the router and shut it off. Stella shot to her feet, her face contorted with rage. “What the hell? Why did you turn off the internet? I was at the final boss!” I stared her down, my patience gone. “Do you think this is your house? That you can do whatever you want?” My voice was cold steel. “I told you to be quiet. Did you hear me? One more time, and you’re out. For good.” She saw the fury in my eyes and finally backed down, glaring at me with pure hatred. “My mom never yells at me like that,” she muttered under her breath. She stomped back to her room and slammed the door with such force the entire house seemed to tremble. Right then, I made a decision. As soon as Leah got home, Stella was leaving. The sponsorship was over. The next morning, our housekeeper, Mrs. Vance, knocked on the door to announce breakfast was ready. I helped Melinda get ready, and we went downstairs to the dining room together. As we came down the stairs, we ran into Stella. The change in Melinda was instantaneous. She shrank behind me like a mouse spotting a hawk, her eyes darting away, unable to meet Stella’s gaze. I still couldn’t understand the depth of her fear. I took Melinda’s hand and led her to the table. We sat on one side, Stella on the other. A moment later, Mrs. Vance came out with their breakfasts, and my blood began to boil. “Mrs. Vance,” I said, trying to keep my voice even. “Why are these two breakfasts different? Stella has fresh milk, but Melinda doesn’t?” Mrs. Vance looked at me as if I were an idiot. “Stella’s at a growing age. She needs the extra nutrition. Melinda… well, she drank milk all the time when she was little. She’s had plenty. Anymore would just be a waste.” I slammed my hand on the table. The sharp crack made everyone jump. “Are you listening to yourself? What do you mean, ‘she’s had plenty’? Is my own daughter not allowed to have a glass of milk in her own home?” Mrs. Vance mumbled something under her breath before reluctantly turning back to the kitchen. “I’ll go get her a glass now.” She was gone for nearly half an hour. When she returned, she slapped a glass of milk down on the table in front of Melinda. “The fresh milk is all gone. This is from the carton in the fridge.” It was ice cold. My brow furrowed. “How could we be out of fresh milk? I have several quarts delivered every single day. There’s enough for the whole family.” Mrs. Vance’s eyes flickered guiltily toward Stella. “Well, with more people in the house, things get used up faster.” I turned directly to my daughter. “Melinda, do you usually drink a lot of milk?” She started to shake her head, but then she saw Stella staring at her. Her expression changed instantly. “Y-yes. Yes, I do.” In that moment, I understood. Something was deeply wrong here. Mrs. Vance’s behavior was more than just suspicious. And then it hit me. Her last name. Vance. Even more unsettling? The driver’s last name was also Vance. Could it all be a coincidence? I remembered now that Leah had hired both of them, saying they were distant relatives of hers, people she could trust. I’d wanted to install security cameras, but Leah had thrown a fit about privacy and refused. Without cameras, I’d have to find another way to get to the truth. I thought about the credit card Leah had asked for a while back. At the time, I assumed it was for her. But a few days ago, I’d gotten a notification for a large purchase at Louis Vuitton. I’d thought it was Leah, but now I realized… she never wore that brand. I opened the banking app and pulled up the statement. My face went dark. In just one month, nearly twenty thousand dollars had been spent on that card. I picked a random charge and called the store. The store manager’s words made my blood boil. He told me the purchase was made by a young girl, about fifteen, with a small mole on her cheek. She’d been feeling generous, he said, and had bought matching bags for her two friends. The girl with the mole on her cheek was Stella. Fighting to control my rage, I pulled up the dashcam footage from the car. The veins on the back of my hand stood out like cords. The driver I’d hired specifically to take my daughter to and from school had, for the past year, been chauffeuring only one person: Stella. So where was my Melinda? How was she getting to school? I was about to storm into Stella’s room and confront her when I ran into a familiar face. It was Ben, our part-time gardener. He was a distant cousin, an older, trustworthy man I’d known for years. He only came a few times a month to tend to the grounds, but I paid him a full monthly salary for his loyalty. He was always diligent, sometimes even doing odd jobs around the house for me. He looked surprised to see me, but there was something else in his eyes, something he was holding back. I pulled him into a quiet corner of the garden. “Ben,” I said gently. “It looks like you have something to tell me.” He hesitated, then let out a heavy sigh. “Todd, I don’t know if it’s my place to say… but you need to be careful. You need to keep a closer eye on what’s happening in this house.” I knew he was holding back. I pressed him, and the whole ugly story came pouring out. “That housekeeper of yours, she’s got sticky fingers. I’ve seen her sneaking things from the house to sell. And when she buys groceries, she gets the vendors to inflate the prices so she can pocket the difference. She caught me watching once and threatened to have my legs broken if I said a word.” “And the driver,” he continued, his voice low and angry, “he’s in on it. I tried to speak up, and she called him over. He said he’d kill me. If it wasn’t for you, Todd, I’d have been long gone.” “And that girl… Stella. She acts like she owns the place. I’ve seen her pouring fresh milk down the drain, using it to wash her face and feet. I told her not to be so wasteful, and you know what she called me? A good-for-nothing old peasant who had no right to talk to a princess like her.” His final words hit me like a punch to the gut. “And I see her with Melinda. I see the way she pushes her around, yelling at her. Hitting her.” My face went numb with fury. I immediately hired a private investigator to look into the housekeeper’s transactions and the driver’s routes. Then, I found Melinda. I asked her, point-blank, if Stella had been bullying her. She stammered and denied it at first, her eyes wide with fear. But then I showed her my phone. I had found a video, sent to me by the investigator. It was a video of my daughter. When she saw it, her composure shattered and the full, horrifying truth came out. The video was grainy, shot in a dark corner of what looked like a school bathroom. My Melinda was pinned against the wall by a group of girls. They were hitting her, kicking her. One of them shoved a grimy mophead into her mouth, while another jabbed her back with the handle. And the ringleader, laughing and directing the whole thing, was the girl I had welcomed into my home. The girl I had sponsored for two years. Stella. I saw red. I couldn’t breathe. I stormed into Stella’s room, my phone shaking in my hand. “What is this?” I roared, shoving the screen in her face. “Explain this to me. Now!” When she saw the video, the color drained from her face.

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