Category: English

I’d been helping my sister at her private security firm for three years. Then the mute man she kept locked in the underground safe house escaped. The very next day, a breaking news alert tore through every social media feed in the country: [HEIR TO GRAYSON EMPIRE FOUND ALIVE AFTER THREE-YEAR DISAPPEARANCE] In the video, a man stood before a crowd of flashing cameras. When he spoke, his voice was low, rich, and deeply resonant, sending a collective shockwave through the room. “I’m not dead,” he said. “And I’m not mute.” He stared straight into the lens. “The woman who kept me captive locked my wrists in steel chains. She fed me once a day. If I so much as resisted, she used a taser. For three years, I never saw the sun. I was kept like a dog.” Slowly, he pulled back his cuff to reveal a faint, pink ring of scarred flesh around his wrist. His smile was cold. Cruel. “I will be settling this debt with her personally.” The comment section erupted instantly. “Three years of pretending to be mute? The sheer patience of this man is terrifying.” “How many years in prison is that psycho woman going to get?” The chip I was holding slipped through my fingers, clattering onto the floor. Our quiet, mute boy… could talk? I turned my head. My sister, Debby, slammed a hard right hook into the hanging heavy bag. She spun around, her eyes bloodshot—but she was laughing. “Hahaha! Finally! I’m finally done being a glorified babysitter!” She wiped the sweat from her forehead, her laughter ringing with pure, unadulterated relief. “That giant toddler who wailed in the middle of the night, who wouldn’t sleep unless I was holding him—he’s finally gone!” I quietly set the rest of the chips down on the table. “Debby, I don’t think you realize just how deep of a hole we’ve dug ourselves into.” … The truth was, this whole thing had been bizarre from the very beginning. When Debby took the job three years ago, I was sixteen, a high school dropout with nowhere else to go, tagging along to earn my keep. She never told me who the client was or why we had to keep this man locked up. She only gave me simple instructions: deliver his meals, change his water, and leave immediately. “Don’t linger,” she had warned me. “And don’t reply to anything he writes.” The first time I saw him was the day he was brought into the basement safe house. He was tall, lean, and pale to the point of looking translucent. When the heavy steel cuffs were snapped around his wrists, he didn’t struggle. He only cast a brief glance downward. Then he looked up, caught me watching, tilted his head, and smiled. His eyes crinkled at the corners. He looked so incredibly gentle, so harmless, that my heart immediately softened. For the next three years, he remained “mute.” All of our communication took place through a small spiral notebook. His handwriting was elegant, so neat it looked like a printed font. “Is it raining outside today?” “Thank you for your hard work, kiddo.” Sometimes, he would fold tiny origami cranes out of the margins of his paper. Once he had filled a small ceramic bowl with them, he would slide it across the table, just close enough for me to reach. He’d write: “For you.” For a long time, I actually thought the job was easy. Cozy, even. Until I realized he was only docile when I was the one in the room. One afternoon, I delivered his lunch and left. Ten minutes later, I realized I’d forgotten to collect his empty bowl from the previous meal and went back. The heavy metal door was slightly ajar. Suddenly, there was a deafening crash from inside. Porcelain shattering. The sound of something heavy being violently overturned. I peered through the narrow gap. His back was to me. Everything on the small kitchenette counter had been swept onto the floor in one ruthless motion. His shoulders rose and fell in heavy, ragged breaths, as if he were trying to suppress an animalistic rage. Three seconds later, he turned around. The violent tension evaporated from his face, replaced instantly by his usual gentle expression. He picked up his notebook, his eyes crinkling into that familiar smile. “I accidentally knocked it over. Could you bring me a broom?” The smile was identical to the one he had given me ten minutes earlier. As if nothing had happened. I told Debby about it that night. She only gave me a cold look. “When you leave, you don’t go back. Ever.” But things got even stranger. For a stretch of time, whenever Debby emerged from the safe house in the mornings, I noticed dark red bruises on the insides of her wrists. They weren’t from the chains. The chains were on his wrists, not hers. When I asked her about it once, she quickly pulled her sleeves down. “Just some friction from training,” she muttered. But those marks didn’t look like rope burn or training scrapes. They looked like finger-shaped handprints, as if someone had grabbed her, squeezing her wrists with terrifying force. And they only appeared on the mornings after she spent the night in the safe house. Normally, staying overnight was strictly against her own rules. But during that period, she made an exception. For days on end, she would come up from the basement with heavy dark circles under her eyes, her voice raspy, looking entirely drained of life. I asked her what was going on. She just shrugged. “He’s going through a rough patch. I need to keep an eye on him.” How bad could a locked-up mute’s “rough patch” really be? Bad enough that she had to watch him all night long? I didn’t press her. But I did notice that on the mornings after Debby stayed over, the writing in his notebook was exceptionally neat. Exceptionally sweet. Like a man who was deeply, thoroughly satisfied. Looking back now, I realize. It wasn’t that he was having a breakdown and needed supervision. It was that he had found a way to force Debby to stay. In the news clip, Chester Grayson had pulled back his sleeve and said so casually: “If I so much as resisted, she used a taser.” I thought of those bruises on Debby’s wrists. Who was really resisting whom? And there was one more thing. For three years, that chain never once broke. It never even slipped. But could a man strong enough to tear a bolted wooden counter off its frame really not break a single chain if he wanted to? Not unless he had no intention of leaving. So why did he escape yesterday? He was never a pathetic, docile mute. He was a wolf, lying perfectly still with his eyes closed, pretending to sleep. And we had been living right beside him for three years. By the third day after Chester’s escape, Debby finally slept through the night. A solid twelve hours. When she woke up, she changed the digital lock on the safe house, threw out all the groceries she’d bought for him, and went downstairs to run three miles. When she came back, she was actually smiling. “Do you know how long it’s been since I went for a run?” she asked, guzzling a bottle of cold water. “Three years. If that man realized I was gone for more than two hours, he would smash his head against the wall, slit his wrists, or go on a hunger strike. I had to time my trips to the grocery store down to the second.” She tossed the empty bottle into the bin. “But now? Freedom.” I stayed quiet. Debby felt lighter, but to me, the air felt thick. It was that suffocating stillness right before a thunderstorm hits, when the birds suddenly stop singing. That afternoon, the Grayson Group held a press conference. Charles Grayson stood at the podium, his expression grim. “I hope this woman understands her situation. Turning herself in is her only way out.” I clicked my phone screen off. In the kitchen, Debby was eating white bread. It was overcooked and mushy when she set the bowl down in front of me. I chewed on a mouthful of bread, and my mind drifted back. In the beginning, I was the one who brought him pre-made meals. But later, he wrote in his notebook: “Can I cook for myself? I’m so bored.” Debby had agreed, and we started bringing him raw ingredients instead. He made incredible food. Chicken parmesan, roasted short ribs, slow-cooked stews on weekends. On my seventeenth birthday, he had baked a fresh batch of lemon bars. In his notebook, he’d drawn a crude little birthday candle: “Happy birthday, kiddo. I hope you get to walk in the sun every single day.” I swallowed the tasteless white bread. There would be no one to cook for us anymore. …And then I remembered his accusation on the news: “She fed me once a day.” Seriously? He was slow-cooking beef bone broth in that kitchenette just last week. He didn’t even blink when he lied to the entire world. Later that afternoon, Debby brought Hank back to the office. He was an old family guard who had worked for the Graysons for six years before getting laid off. The moment he walked through the door, he lit a cigarette. His hands were trembling. “Chester Grayson,” Hank said, his voice tense. “Around here, they call him the Smiling Reaper. The moment he starts smiling at you, that’s when you run.” He inhaled deeply. “When he was eighteen, a rival company bought off his personal driver to stage an accident. The next day, the driver vanished. Within a month, that rival company was bankrupt and liquidated. And through it all, Chester just kept smiling.” Hank stubbed out his cigarette, looking directly at Debby. “You kept a man like that locked up for three years. Did it ever occur to you that there might be another explanation?” “Like what?” Debby asked. “He is brilliant. The Grayson family put every resource they had into finding him, and they came up empty. Do you really think they couldn’t find him? Or was he the one who didn’t want to be found?” The room went dead silent. Debby let out a humorless laugh. “The contract was signed anonymously. He never saw my face. He has nothing to go on.” After Hank left, I couldn’t hold back. “Debby, he said in the video that he remembers your voice. He remembers your scent. He spent three years with you. He doesn’t need paper trails.” She stood by the window, her back to me. It was a long time before she spoke, her voice barely a whisper. “Then I’ll just have to bet he won’t come looking himself.” But I could see her hands shaking against her sides. That night, while cleaning out the back storage room, I found a cardboard box. It contained the notebooks we had cleared out from the safe house. Debby had told me to throw them away, but I hadn’t gotten around to it. I picked up the topmost notebook and opened it. “Day 1: Debby’s hair is black. It’s very long.” “Day 47: Debby smiled today. Beautiful.” “Day 289: Debby came back very late today.” “Day 290: Debby came back very late today.” For seven straight days, he wrote the exact same sentence. The strokes grew heavier, pressing deeper into the paper day by day. “Day 297: Did she abandon me?” And then, the very last notebook. The final page, dated the day before he escaped. “Day 1096: I’m sorry, Debby. I can’t take this anymore.” What couldn’t he take? Being locked up? Or was it something else? A sudden lump formed in my throat. I thought of the paper cranes. I thought of his message: “I hope you get to walk in the sun every single day.” A man who hadn’t seen daylight in three years, wishing the sun on someone else. He had been kind to me. Truly kind. But the ruthless man on the news had promised to settle his debt. Did that debt include me? I closed the notebook and placed it back in the box. It didn’t matter. Whether he was acting or not, we had to move on. Tomorrow, I had to help Debby pack up the office. I had to protect her. I clicked off the lights. But as I lay in bed, those words kept repeating in my head like a broken record. “I can’t take this anymore.” I knew, with absolute certainty, that this wasn’t over. On our fifth day of moving, the doorbell rang. Debby peered through the peephole, and her face went completely pale. She shoved me toward the bedroom. “Stay inside. Don’t come out.” I pressed my eye to the crack in the door. The man who stepped inside was in his early fifties, wearing an impeccably tailored charcoal suit. He shared a striking resemblance with Chester. Charles Grayson. Chester’s father. He didn’t sit down. He simply stood in our tiny, four-hundred-square-foot apartment, his eyes sweeping over the worn furniture. A subtle, condescending twitch touched the corner of his mouth. He reached into his breast pocket, pulled out a thick envelope, and tossed it onto the coffee table. “The NDA and a bank card. Sign it, take the money, and disappear. Three million dollars.” His tone was as dry as if he were reading off a grocery list. “It’s enough for a family like yours to live comfortably for the rest of your lives. It’s barely a month’s allowance for my son.” Debby didn’t touch the envelope. “If I sign this, will he stop looking for me?” Charles fell silent for a long moment. “I will do my best to keep him on a leash,” he said quietly. “But since he returned… he hasn’t been the same. He is volatile. Obsessive. Uncontrollable.” A hairline fracture seemed to appear in his polished composure. “Right now, he only does one thing. He looks for you.” Debby swallowed hard. “I’ll sign.” At the door, Charles paused. “Do not actively put yourself in his path. Chicago is a big city. Live your own life.” The door clicked shut. “Live your own life.” He had found our brand-new apartment in five days. Who was he trying to fool? For a few days after signing the papers, life seemed to return to normal. Debby picked up a couple of quick private security shifts. One night, she even bought a bottle of wine, curled up on the sofa, and laughed out loud at a reality show. I almost allowed myself to believe we were safe. Until a week later. I was downstairs at our old office, packing up the very last box of files. Debby’s firm had officially suspended operations. A woman was leaning against the wall by the elevators. She looked to be in her late forties, impeccably preserved, with a silk scarf wrapped around her neck that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. “You must be Debby’s little sister,” she said. She stepped closer, reaching out to smooth down the collar of my jacket. Her touch was intimate, maternal, but her manicured nail scraped lightly against my collarbone, leaving a sharp sting. “Your sister moved into a new place? Six flights of stairs with no elevator. That must be exhausting.” She knew our exact floor. “I’m Chester’s mother.” She tilted her head. It was the exact same gesture I had seen Chester make a hundred times. “Since my son came back, he hasn’t eaten or slept. He tore our house apart. He does only one thing, day in and day out—he looks for your sister.” She sighed, as if discussing a minor inconvenience. “The agreement with his father is useless. Chester has never listened to anyone.” She looked at me with cold, calculating eyes. “Tell your sister to come forward and apologize. Maybe he’ll let it go once his temper cools.” She paused. “But if he has to find her himself…” A chilling smile touched her lips. “Three years. You know his temper better than I do.” She turned and walked toward a sleek black town car waiting at the curb. Just before sliding into the back seat, she looked back at me. “Tell your sister that paying three million dollars for her life was an act of mercy. If my son finds her, he won’t spend three hundred dollars.” She gave a soft shrug. “And at that point, even I won’t be able to protect her.” The car door snapped shut. I stood in the cold wind, the faint scratch on my collarbone burning. I told Debby everything that night. She sat in silence for a very long time. Finally, I asked the question that had been eating at me. “Debby, who actually placed that anonymous contract three years ago?” She looked at me, her eyes dark. “Charles Grayson said he couldn’t find Chester, but he found us in five days,” I pressed on. “Hank said Chester is too smart to get caught unless he wanted to be. And in the notebook, he wrote “I’m sorry, Debby.” Why did he say sorry?” Outside, headlights from a passing car swept across the living room ceiling. Debby’s voice was barely a whisper. “…It was him.” “What?” “The anonymous client who hired me three years ago. It was Chester himself.” She let out a shaky breath. “He called me. He signed the contract. He walked into that basement safe house with his own two feet, held out his wrists, and let me lock them.” Her voice cracked. “And then he looked at me and said, “Keep me locked up, Debby. Don’t let me out. I’m afraid I’ll hurt someone.” I sat frozen. He had asked to be locked away. For three years, by his own choice. But now, he was on television, claiming he wanted revenge. “Then why did he—” “I don’t know,” Debby cut me off, turning her back to me as she lay down on the sofa. “Maybe he forgot. Maybe he’s playing a game. Maybe the moment he went back to that family, he became someone else.” She pulled the blanket over her shoulders. “It has nothing to do with us anymore. Go to sleep.” She curled into a tight ball, her entire posture defensive, as if shielding herself from an invisible blow. I stared up at the ceiling. He had walked in on his own. He had asked to be chained. He had begged her not to let him out. Yet he had escaped, and now he wanted blood. Did he genuinely forget? Or had this been a trap from the very beginning? Three months passed. The Graysons didn’t show up again. Debby picked up freelance security gigs under the radar, and I found a part-time job at a local tea shop. Our lives settled into a quiet, boring routine, as if the past three years had been nothing but a fever dream. Occasionally, Chester would pop up on my feed—attending galas, charity dinners, always with a young girl in a pink dress trailing by his side. He looked polished, wealthy, and completely unrecognizable from the man who used to fold paper cranes in a dark basement. Whenever Debby saw his face on screen, she would swipe past it instantly. I tried to do the same. One day, while dusting the desk, I found a crumpled piece of paper wedged deep inside a drawer. It must have slipped out of the box during the move. It was in Chester’s handwriting. A single sentence: “I missed you again today, Debby. Goodnight.” The date on it was from two days before he escaped. I shoved the paper deep into the back of the drawer. Chicago was a massive city. There was no way we would run into him. But on Saturday, Debby took me to a department store downtown. We were standing near the escalators when my heart suddenly stopped. Chester. He was barely three steps away. Up close, he looked even taller and leaner than he did on television. He was holding the hand of the young girl in the pink dress, leaning down to listen to her chatter. I grabbed Debby’s sleeve. She had already seen him. Her body went rigid for a split second before she grabbed my hand, pulling me in the opposite direction. “Go. Fast.” My mind was screaming a single command: “Don’t let him see us.” In our rush, my shoulder clipped a display shelf. My elbow smashed hard against a sharp metal edge. A sharp gasp of pain escaped my throat. A perfume bottle clattered to the floor, rolling loudly across the polished tiles. Debby spun around. I shook my head frantically at her. “Keep moving.” But it was too late. “Are you alright?” The low, smooth voice fell from directly above me. I froze, slowly lifting my gaze. Chester was leaning over, his hand gently steadying my arm. He frowned as he looked at my scraped, reddening elbow. His eyes were inches from mine. Suddenly, memories flooded back. I remembered every time I had tripped or bumped into something in the safe house, and how he would immediately write three frantic questions in his notebook: “Are you okay? Are you okay? Are you okay?” I remembered his hand-drawn sketch of me with my hair in a messy ponytail, carrying his tray, with the caption: “Kiddo is getting taller.” I remembered the winter I got a fever, and how he had shoved his only heavy jacket through the bars to keep me warm. My lips parted. I almost called his name. But then, his gaze shifted away from my face. He looked over my shoulder, locking onto someone standing directly behind me. I watched his pupils contract. The warmth on his face evaporated, leaving a blank slate. And then, that blankness twisted into something dark, incredibly deep, and cold. Like an abyss. My body reacted before my brain did. I took an instinctive step back, pulling away from him. It wasn’t that his grip was tight, but the sudden, predatory look in his eyes screamed at me to run. He straightened up. The little girl ran over, tugging on his coat. “Chester, do you know her?” He didn’t answer. She looked at him, then at me, and made her own deduction. “Oh, you don’t. Let’s go then. Mom says we shouldn’t talk to strangers.” She pulled his hand, guiding him away. He followed her, never looking back. But I saw his left hand—the hand that had been bound by steel chains for three long years. It hung at his side, clenched into a tight, trembling fist. His knuckles were so white it looked like the bone might pierce through the skin. The girl kept chattering beside him, but he didn’t utter a single word. It was as if his entire mind had been left behind with us. I turned to look at Debby. She was standing perfectly still, her face completely blank, but her hands were trembling violently. And so were mine. When he had bent down to help me, his gaze had lingered on my face for a fraction of a second. In that brief second, I saw recognition. He knew exactly who I was. For three years, I was the one who brought his food. I changed his water. I checked his chains. I was an accomplice, too. The other end of that chain had been wrapped around me all along. I had only realized it today. He knew where we were. What would happen next? I was too terrified to imagine.

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I have always lived my life a beat behind. My childhood friend, Piper, and my best friend, Chase, were the opposite—always operating in fast-forward, breathless and impatient. When we ate out, I’d barely be halfway through my meal before they’d already finished, clamoring to head to the arcade next door, leaving me alone at the table. When we went swimming, my leg cramped up halfway across the lake. I cried out for help, only to look up and realize they had already dried off, packed up, and vanished. Even when it came to submitting our college decisions, I hadn’t even logged into the portal yet when they finalized theirs, clicked submit, and stood up in unison. “Theo, you’re moving like molasses,” Piper said, her eyes already glued to her phone. “I have to help Chase grab Taylor Swift tickets, so we can’t wait. We committed to Columbia. Make sure you don’t mess up your application.” Before her words could even settle, Chase grabbed her hand and they bolted out the door. They were running so fast she never heard my quiet reply. “I’m not going to Columbia.” “And you don’t ever have to wait for me again.” … It is true; I really do take longer than most. By the time I finally hit submit on my college portal and glanced at the clock, it was the very last minute before the deadline. There was no turning back. The realization hit me like a physical ache: for the next four years, Piper and I would be separated by nearly two thousand miles. My chest tightened, a bitter sting rising in my throat. Right in the middle of my grief, my phone buzzed. “Theo, what is taking you so long?” Piper’s voice crackled through the speaker, sharp with impatience. “The graduation party started at six. Everyone is waiting on us. Can you please just hurry up for once?” Listening to her familiar, irritated sigh, I scrambled to my feet and rushed out the door. I moved so frantically that the sharp edge of the kitchen chair gouged a line down my calf, but I didn’t even stop to look down. But even with all that rushing, by the time I reached the school gates, all that was left for me was the red glow of taillights fading into the evening traffic. I stood there, frozen on the curb, as my phone rang again. It was Piper’s contact photo flashing, but when I answered, Chase’s voice came through. “Hey, sorry, Theo. Our Uber got here, and the driver said he’d charge us an extra waiting fee if we lingered. We had to jump in. Just grab yourself another ride, alright? See you there.” My heart sank, heavy as a stone. It was always like this. They promised they would wait, yet they always managed to leave exactly two minutes before I arrived. When we went to the amusement park, they did this. When we went hiking, they did this. Did those two minutes really matter that much to them? I didn’t know. All I knew was the lump forming in my throat, tasting of old, bitter disappointment. “Hey, kid. You friends with that couple who just left?” I blinked, turning to face the school’s security guard walking over. He reached into his pocket and handed me a glossy photo booth strip. The date stamped on the bottom was today. The faces grinning back at me were Piper and Chase, their heads tilted together, laughing, intimately close. Staring at it, Piper’s voice from yesterday echoed in my mind. “Theo, I know you’ve been dying to get those cheesy photo booth pictures. Tomorrow, after we submit our decisions, I’ll go with you.” In all three years of high school, she had never once been the one to initiate a plan with me. I had stayed up late, giddy with excitement, and even spent thirty minutes this morning watching a tutorial just to do my hair and look nice. But she hadn’t waited for me to submit my application. And she had gone and done the very thing she promised me—with someone else. A hollow ache bloomed in my chest. I couldn’t find the words to speak. I just stood there, rooted to the pavement, listening to the guard ramble on. “Smart kids, those two,” the guard said, shaking his head in admiration. “Heard them talking about going to Columbia. Good for them, not letting a relationship get in the way of their grades. They make a handsome couple, don’t they?” He paused, his eyes drifting down to my oversized t-shirt and slightly flushed, ordinary face. “Funny, though. You look so… average. Wouldn’t have guessed you ran in the same circle.” A sudden, sharp humiliation burned through me. I forced a tight, empty smile. “Yeah. Honestly, neither did I.” Leaving him behind, I hailed a cab, my mind drifting. When I finally walked into the restaurant’s private dining room, I realized Piper had lied. The room was barely half full; most of our classmates hadn’t even arrived yet. But Piper and Chase were already there, tucked into a booth in the corner, their shoulders pressed together as they huddled over a phone, whispering and laughing. “Theo, don’t just stand there by the door. Find a seat!” someone called out. Hearing my name, Piper finally looked up. She waved me over, entirely unfazed, as if nothing had happened. “Come here! Look at this meme Chase found. It’s hilarious.” Out of sheer habit, my feet carried me toward her. But just as I slid into the booth, the class president grinned and teased, “So, Piper, you three have been joined at the hip all through high school. Are you going to keep being a package deal in college, too?” My mind flashed to my submission to CU Boulder. I opened my mouth to say “not anymore”, but before I could, Piper threw her arms out, draping one over my shoulder and the other over Chase’s. “Of course,” she declared brightly. “Theo is so slow at everything, and he’s way too soft-spoken. If he doesn’t have Chase and me looking out for him at the same school, he’ll get eaten alive.” Chase laughed, chiming in, “Seriously. Theo spent a fortune on private tutors all senior year just to keep up with our grades.” Beside me, I felt Piper’s arm stiffen slightly. Around the room, quiet whispers broke out. I caught muffled words like “third wheel” and “hanger-on”. I pretended not to hear. I just sat there, thinking of the past year. I had survived on fewer than four hours of sleep a night, wearing out my eyesight and needing a stronger prescription, all so I wouldn’t be left behind by her. And in the end, I had chosen a school nearly two thousand miles away. My chest felt tight and heavy. Suddenly, a voice cut through the chatter. “Hey, Piper! We’re graduated now. You can finally tell us—who’s actually dating who? And who’s the odd man out?” Piper froze. Her eyes darted instinctively to me. That single, hesitant glance was all the room needed. The class erupted into laughter. “I knew it! Theo’s the ultimate third wheel!” “Classic case of the childhood friend losing to the new guy!” “So when did you and Chase actually make it official, Piper?” A hot, suffocating wave of embarrassment rushed to my face. Beneath the table, my hands clenched into tight fists. Maybe she sensed my distress, because Piper suddenly slammed her glass onto the table with a sharp clink. “Shut up, guys. There’s nothing going on. The three of us are just a trio. That’s it.” “Oh, sure… ‘just friends,’” the class president drawled. Chase quickly waved his hands, a sheepish smile on his face. “Come on, guys, don’t start rumors. My mom had a strict rule about no dating until college. High school was strictly off-limits.” His attempt at a denial only fueled the fire. “Oh, so it’s just because of Chase’s family rules! Well, high school is over now. Perfect time to confess!” “Yeah, the chemistry is right there! Don’t be a coward, Piper!” The chanting grew louder, but Piper remained silent, staring at her lap. “Hey, Theo, why the long face? Afraid she’s going to say yes?” one of Chase’s close friends teased. My mind went completely blank. Before I could scramble for a response, another boy chimed in: “Come on, Piper. A real best friend is happy when you find love, right, Theo? You wouldn’t mind, would you?” They had backed me into a corner, holding me up to the light of public expectation. I managed a tight, fragile nod. “Right. I wouldn’t mind.” Almost the second the words left my mouth, Piper’s face darkened. “I don’t do public confessions,” she said coldly. Chase looked visibly deflated, but he quickly forced a bright, casual grin. “Exactly. Pure friendship, guys. Stop teasing and let’s order some food.” With the main subjects deflecting, the crowd let it drop, settling down to look at the menus. When the menu finally made its way toward my side of the table, I reached out my hand. But Chase snatched it right before I could touch it, offering me a helpful wink. “Theo, you take forever to decide. Piper and I will just order for you. We already know what you like anyway.” Without giving me a chance to protest, the two of them bent their heads together, murmuring. “Spicy crawfish, chili-boiled pork, and the hot-and-sour fish soup,” Chase read off. Piper glanced up at me. “One favorite dish for each of us,” she said softly, before passing the menu along. I looked down at the angry, itchy red eczema flaring up across my knuckles and nodded bitterly. Yes, I loved the sour fish soup. But the doctor had explicitly told me yesterday that with this flare-up, I had to avoid seafood and spicy food completely. Yesterday, I had asked Piper to go to the clinic with me. But because I took one minute too long putting on my shoes, she left to play pool with Chase instead. When I asked her later why she couldn’t have just waited, she had been entirely dismissive. “If it were a real emergency, you wouldn’t be moving like a snail. If you can afford to linger, it’s clearly not that urgent.” So, I had gone to the clinic alone. Registered alone. Sat in the waiting room alone. “Oh my god, Piper! You and Chase actually got tickets to Taylor Swift?!” A classmate’s excited shriek snapped me back to the present. I pulled out my phone and opened Instagram. When I saw the feed, my breath caught. Two identical photos of concert tickets, posted minutes apart. The person who had promised me since middle school that we would go to our very first concert together hadn’t even grasped a third ticket. Noticing me staring at my screen, Piper nudged my elbow. Her voice sounded slightly strained. “The reception near the school gates was terrible. The site kept crashing; we could only buy them one by one. If you really want to go, I can look for a reseller ticket. It just… probably won’t be in our section.” Chase quickly chimed in with an apologetic look. “Man, don’t be mad, Theo. Honestly, if you want to go that bad, you can have my ticket. I don’t mind.” “No way!” Piper cut him off immediately, shooting me an annoyed glance. “Chase, you’ve wanted to see this tour forever. Why should you give up your seat? Theo, don’t be selfish.” I hadn’t said a single word, yet here I was, branded as the selfish one. A rare spark of anger flared in my chest. “I don’t even want to go,” I said, my voice flat. It was the truth. Even though I had loved Taylor Swift for a decade, the concert was scheduled for the night before move-in day, all the way in New York. With Boulder being nearly two thousand miles away in the opposite direction, there was no logical way I could make it. I meant what I said, but Piper just rolled her eyes, reading it as a tantrum. “I already told you I’d find you a ticket. Stop acting like a child. Honestly, without Chase and me, with how slow you are and how easily you get lost, you’d probably manage to miss the opening act anyway.” We had known each other for over ten years. Hearing her say those words out loud, in front of everyone, brought a sudden, stinging burn to the backs of my eyes. “Theo…” she started, her expression softening slightly, but the waiter arrived, balancing heavy plates. “Excuse me, coming through…” Piper looked at me, looking a little lost, and quietly slid the sour fish soup closer to my side of the table. But because of my flare-up, I didn’t touch it. I sat through the entire dinner without eating a single bite. Even when Piper secretly picked out the bones from a piece of fish and slid it onto my plate when no one was looking, I ignored it completely, leaving the fish to go cold. “Hey, Piper, if you don’t have plans before college starts, we should all plan a road trip!” the class president suggested as we gathered our coats at the end of the night. Piper froze, biting her lip. Chase offered an awkward scratch of his neck. “Actually, sorry, man. Piper and I already booked tickets to Miami for tomorrow morning…” Beside me, Piper’s voice rushed in, thick with guilt. “Theo, don’t get the wrong idea. We only didn’t tell you because we know how much you hate the ocean. It wasn’t to exclude you. Besides, we’re both going to Columbia. Once winter break rolls around, I’ll go anywhere you want. Just the two of us. We don’t even have to invite Chase.” I looked up at her. Her eyes were bright, filled with a sweet, naive expectation of our future together. The truth I had held back all night finally burned its way to my lips. “Piper, I’m not going—” “Piper! Have you seen our photo booth strip?” Chase’s frantic voice cut me off as he patted down his pockets. “Did we leave it with the security guard when we showed him earlier?” I reached into my bag, my fingers brushing against the smooth, glossy paper of the strip the guard had given me. But before I could pull it out, Chase grabbed Piper’s hand and pulled her out into the street. A minute later, my phone vibrated. [Those pictures… Chase made me take them while we were waiting for you. I’ll take better ones with you later, okay?] [It’s getting late. I ordered you an Uber. Here’s the plate number. Text me when you get in.] I stared at the screen for a long time. Then, I handed the photo booth strip to the class president. “Can you make sure Piper gets this?” I asked quietly. Then, I pulled up her contact and tapped “Block”. On the quiet cab ride home, staring out at the passing streetlights, I bought a train ticket to Mount Elbert. Back in sophomore year of high school, Piper and I had made a pact: if we both got into our dream schools, we would spend our final summer hiking the Five Great Summits of the Rockies. She had forgotten. But I hadn’t. If she was going to break her promise, I would keep it alone. I tried to convince myself I was being strong, independent. But as I packed my duffel bag and my eyes fell on the faded plush rabbit keychain dangling from the zipper, the tears came, hot and silent. The keychain had been a gift from Piper in the first grade. That summer, our families had gone to the beach together. Piper had chased a wave out too far and swept into an undertow. The adults had been too far away to hear. I had jumped in after her. I dragged her to the shallow water, but I swallowed so much saltwater and suffered such severe oxygen deprivation that I spent three days in the ICU fighting for my life. I survived, but the doctors told my parents that I would develop a little slower than other kids from then on. My brain had paid the price for saving her. Back then, neither of us understood what “slower” really meant. We thought it just meant I walked slowly. I remember little Piper holding my hand, her eyes wide with tears, promising me: “Don’t worry, Theo. If you’re slow, I’ll just wait for you. Always.” And to her credit, she hadn’t lied. She had waited for me for twelve years. From the first grade all the way to our freshman year of high school. But on our first day of high school, I had arrived early for the first time in my life. She was five minutes late. When she finally rode up on her bike, Chase was sitting on the back rack, laughing. She explained that she had run into Chase, who had missed his bus, and figured since they were going to the same school, she’d give him a lift. From that day on, she stopped waiting for me. Instead, I spent the next three years exhausting myself trying to keep up with her. She had almost drowned once, yet she still loved the ocean. So, swallowing my trauma, I forced myself to learn how to swim just to be near her. But when my leg seized up in the water and I was genuinely drowning, she had already walked away with Chase. That was the day I decided I was done running. I didn’t sleep at all. When I dragged my suitcase out the front door the next morning, I was shocked to find Piper waiting on the porch. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her voice heavy with hurt. “Theo, you blocked me. I stayed up all night and bought you a ticket to Miami. I know you hate the beach, but there are tons of other things we can do there.” I stood there, momentarily frozen. With a quiet sigh, I raised my phone and showed her the confirmation screen of my train ticket to Colorado. Piper’s face went completely pale. I saw the exact moment she remembered our sophomore pact. She bit her lip, her shoulders trembling. “I’ll go with you,” she blurted out. “Unblock me. I’ll meet you at the station in an hour.” Before I could say a word, she spun on her heel and bolted down the driveway. Maybe it was the desperate conviction in her eyes. I let myself believe her one last time. I unblocked her number and waited by the security gates at the station for an hour and a half. I didn’t get a text from her. Instead, I saw Chase’s newly uploaded Instagram story. A video of him and Piper, boarding a flight to Miami, laughing as they held up their boarding passes. The very last thread of affection I held for her snapped, silent and clean. I turned around, handed my ticket to the gate agent, and walked toward the train. From now on, I would climb my mountains. And she could have her ocean.

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The night my family’s company collapsed and the loan sharks cornered us with nowhere left to run, I quietly signed the marriage contract with Naomi Albright, the eldest daughter of the Albright empire. I didn’t say a single word. Outside the Albright estate, Cynthia stood in the pouring rain, her eyes glued to the breaking news on her phone—headlines flashing pictures of Naomi and me together, side by side. Years later, Cynthia tore down every obstacle in her path, built her own corporate empire from the ashes, and used the most ruthless leverage imaginable to force me to become her husband. Everyone in our circle mocked me. They whispered that Jesse Edmund was nothing but a spineless gold-digger riding on his good looks, that Cynthia’s desperate obsession with claiming me was merely a craving for my pretty face. But I knew the truth better than anyone. She hated me. She hated me for choosing wealth over her, for what she saw as a cold, calculating betrayal. From the moment I moved into her cavernous, freezing mansion, she surrounded herself with a revolving door of young, beautiful boys. I never reacted. In fact, every morning before dawn, I would slip out to run my humble breakfast cart on the corner of the old district, simply to give her and those boys their space. Yet, my indifference only made Cynthia more volatile. Once, she pinned me hard against the narrow kitchen sink, her eyes bloodshot, her teeth gritted as she hissed, “Jesse, is that heart of yours made of stone?” I only managed a numb, hollow smile. Cynthia didn’t know that my time was running out. While she spent every day plotting new ways to watch me break, I was using every ounce of my remaining strength just to see another sunrise. … I met Tyler for the first time at the gala celebrating the third anniversary of Cynthia’s conglomerate going public. He was wearing an ill-fitting, cheap suit, clumsily balancing a champagne flute, looking entirely out of place in a room packed with the city’s elite. I noticed him instantly. Not because he looked ridiculous, but because of the stubborn pride and raw innocence radiating from him—a look I recognized too well. It was the exact quality Cynthia had fallen in love with when we were young. I let out a dry laugh, adjusting my tie. No wonder Cynthia had demanded my presence tonight. I wasn’t the guest of honor; I was just the spectator. I watched Tyler “accidentally” spill champagne onto Cynthia’s custom Dior coat. They locked eyes, a charged, teasing gaze passing between them. Claiming a sudden stomach ache, I took it as my cue to slip away, leaving them to their quiet, simmering space. But Cynthia’s secretary blocked me in the hallway, her expression icy. “Mr. Edmund, I should warn you. Tyler has been with Ms. Shaw for over six months now. She never brought the other boys to public events. This time, she might actually be serious.” “Mr. Edmund! You… you’re bleeding! Your nose…” Her strictly professional facade crumbled in an instant, her hands shaking as she fumbled in her purse for a tissue. I slowly touched my upper lip. My hand came away smeared with dark crimson. A bitter wave washed over me; the body of a dying man is a ruin that refuses to be hidden. I took the tissue, pressing it hard against my nose, and offered her a reassuring, weary smile. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about me.” “Honestly, I hope Cynthia finds a few more boys like him. Maybe if she’s in a good mood, she’ll throw some extra allowance my way.” I tilted my head back, letting the metallic taste of blood seep into my throat. Severely anemic as I was, I couldn’t afford to lose this much blood. Ignoring the secretary’s mix of disgust and bewilderment, I turned toward the VIP lounge. Tonight was a rare opportunity to ask for money. Cynthia was pleased, softened by her new favorite. Maybe to get rid of me, she’d blindly sign a check without a second thought. Compared to Cynthia’s ghost of an affection, money was the only thing that mattered to me now. Only money could afford the imported pain pump—the only thing that could offer a shred of relief when the agony clawed at my bones in the dead of night, leaving me writhing on the floor. I wasn’t afraid of dying, but I was terrified of the pain. The feeling of my bones being slowly chiseled open, piece by piece, haunted my very nightmares. My oncologist had already delivered the final verdict: even with the most expensive targeted therapies, I wouldn’t survive past winter. I wanted to leave this world with some dignity, but I couldn’t even afford the medication to keep the pain at bay. So, tonight, I had to swallow what little pride I had left and beg Cynthia. … Standing outside the slightly ajar door of the private lounge, I heard Tyler’s bright, unrestrained laughter. I could easily picture the smug expression on his face. Just as I raised my hand to knock, Tyler’s voice carried through the gap, talking to someone inside. “Honestly, why does Jesse always look so miserable and washed out? He dresses like a cheap street vendor. What does Cynthia even see in him?” “When I first joined the company, people told me my profile looked like Mr. Edmund’s. I thought he’d be some legendary figure. Seeing him today? What a joke. If I ever ended up that pathetic and useless, I’d throw myself off a bridge. No wonder Cynthia only has eyes for me now.” A male assistant lowered his voice, cautioning him, “Tyler, shut up. Mr. Edmund is still her legal husband. Besides, back in the day, Cynthia almost died for him. Don’t let this go to your head.” “So what if they’re married?” Tyler scoffed. “Just watch. Cynthia’s going to kick him to the curb sooner or later.” Listening to the chatter, I realized I’d come to the wrong room. It was only Tyler changing clothes with his assistant; Cynthia wasn’t even there. “What are you doing lurking outside my door?” An icy voice sliced through the air behind me. I turned around and met Cynthia’s eyes, cold and thick with disgust. Swallowing the bitter taste rising in my throat, I spoke calmly. “I need some money.” Before the words could fully settle, Tyler stepped out of the lounge and let out a sharp sneer. “How direct, Mr. Edmund. Begging for scraps right outside the dressing room? Anyone would think Cynthia was starving you.” Tyler looked at me defiantly, leaning familiarly into Cynthia’s space, his eyes alight with the smug confidence of a favorite toy. Sensing the shift in the air, the young assistant kept his head down and quickly slipped away. I kept my eyes lowered, ignoring Tyler’s performance entirely. “You really have grown spineless over the years,” Cynthia said, her words dripping with malice, her gaze cutting into me like glass. “Years ago, you crawled like a dog to lick Naomi Albright’s boots for a check. Now you’ve learned to play the begging husband with me? Tell me, how much is your dignity worth this time?” I met her gaze, a self-deprecating smile gracing my lips. “As much as you can spare, of course. With a net worth in the billions, surely Ms. Shaw won’t miss a few crumbs.” The temperature in Cynthia’s eyes plummeted to absolute zero. She lunged forward, grabbing the collar of my faded, worn shirt, her voice vibrating with quiet fury. “When you sold yourself to the Albrights, did they not toss you enough bones? Or are you just born this pathetic?” A sudden spasm gripped my chest. My vision blurred into blackness, and my knees buckled slightly. I took a ragged breath, my face draining of what little color it had, and spoke the quiet truth: “She never gave me a single dime.” Cynthia let out a harsh laugh, her disgust deepening. “Then what makes you think I would waste a single cent on an absolute piece of trash like you? Jesse, you’re lower than dirt.” As if looking at me made her physically ill, she released my collar with a shove and turned to leave. I dug my fingernails hard into my thigh to keep from collapsing, the image of the empty pill bottles in my dingy apartment flashing before my eyes. Digging deep for any shred of humility, I whispered, “Cynthia… please.” My voice was so faint it barely carried through the hallway. She didn’t even slow down. But Tyler heard it. He stepped up to me, his face glowing with a victor’s smugness. “Save your breath, Mr. Edmund. Look in a mirror. Look at what a wreck you are. How do you expect to compete with me?” “The senior staff at the office told me how Cynthia used to worship the ground you walked on, holding you like you were made of glass. I thought you were some kind of god. Turns out, you’re just a desperate street beggar.” “You know, Cynthia is incredibly generous.” Tyler raised his wrist, angling a blinding Patek Philippe toward me. “See this? She gave it to me tonight.” “A guy who slings cheap breakfast sandwiches on a street corner couldn’t afford this in ten lifetimes. The money you beg for on your knees? I get it just by asking nicely.” “To think people actually compare my looks to yours. It’s an insult.” Tyler turned his wrist again, the polished gold catching the light and stinging my eyes. I genuinely envied him. The value of that single watch was enough to secure my remaining days, to save me from curling up like a dying dog in the dark, shivering in agony. Cynthia was indeed generous with him. The other boys before him had been mere distractions, but Tyler was different. She brought him to high-profile events and stood by, allowing him to mock me to my face. But what did any of that matter to a man with one foot in the grave? “You’re right, it is an insult,” I said, a faint, tired smile on my lips. “You only care about how much she spends on you. But tell me—if she actually valued you, why hasn’t she ever taken you home? You’re a passing distraction, Tyler. Nothing more. Do you really think you have the right to look down on me?” “My dear boy, instead of barking at me, why don’t you beg her to divorce me first? Once you have a marriage certificate with your name on it, then you can talk to me about status.” My voice was weak, but I watched as Tyler’s face flushed red, then drained into an angry, bruised purple. “What do you know, you half-dead relic!” Tyler spat. “Cynthia loves me! You think a line on a marriage certificate makes you special? If you hadn’t gotten lucky and met her first, she wouldn’t even look at a pathetic wreck like you!” I gave him a hollow, pitying look. “Why do you think she chose you? When you throw a tantrum, the way the corner of your eyes flares up is identical to mine when I was twenty. Without me, you wouldn’t even be worth a second glance. Learn your place.” I had said enough. I didn’t want to waste another ounce of energy on him, so I turned to walk away. The truth tore right through Tyler’s fragile ego. He snapped, lunging at me like a wild animal. “I’m nobody’s replacement! I’ll tear that dead-eyed look right off your face!” He shoved me with all his weight. I stepped aside, and with no traction on the polished floor, he tripped over the thick edge of the rug, crashing headfirst into a heavy marble display pedestal. With a dull thud, Tyler hit the floor, clutching his forehead. Dark red blood began to ooze between his fingers. Cynthia, who hadn’t walked far, rushed back at the sound of the impact. She shoved me out of the way, dropping to her knees, cradling Tyler’s face. She pressed an expensive silk handkerchief to his wound, her eyes wide with frantic worry. She never once looked at me, completely ignoring how my body swayed on the verge of collapsing. Only when she was sure Tyler wasn’t severely injured did she slowly rise, her eyes fixing on me with absolute, murderous coldness. “Jesse. Did you push him?” I let out a long, exhausted breath. I didn’t even have the strength to defend myself. “Think whatever you want. He lunged at me and tripped.” Before Cynthia could erupt, Tyler began to sob from the floor. “Cynthia… don’t blame Mr. Edmund. It was my fault, I was careless. I just… I love you so much. I don’t care about a title, I just want to be with you. Even if he hits me, even if he hates me, I won’t leave…” His crying was soft and performative, tears mixing with the blood on his cheek. He looked up at her with big, watery eyes, his hands desperately clutching the hem of her coat. I watched Cynthia’s expression soften. The absolute, fragile devotion Tyler was displaying was the exact thing she had once begged from me and never received. “Don’t worry, Tyler,” she murmured, her voice steadying. “I won’t let anyone hurt you again.” In those words, I heard her final decision. She was ready to throw me out to make room for him. I looked down at my scuffed, worn-out leather shoes. There wasn’t even a ripple of emotion in my heart. My lack of reaction only seemed to fuel Cynthia’s rage. “You’d stoop this low for money, Jesse? Fine. You hurt Tyler. How do you plan to pay for his medical bills and his distress?” “I don’t have any money,” I said, stating a simple fact. I barely knew where my next meal was coming from. “Then let me offer you a way out. Get on your knees. Bow to Tyler three times, apologize, and admit what a pathetic, miserable coward you are. The moment he forgives you, I’ll transfer three million dollars into your account.” “Three bows for three million. You won’t find a better bargain in this world. And if you’re worried I’ll go back on my word, I can pay you a deposit right now.” Cynthia reached down and unclasped a diamond tennis bracelet from her wrist, letting it drop carelessly at my feet. “Consider this the down payment. Don’t bother standing back up once you pick it up. Just stay down and bow.” I stared at the glittering piece of jewelry resting on the carpet. A quiet, breathy laugh escaped my lips—laughing at her arrogance, laughing at the utter absurdity of my life. “Keep your money, Cynthia. It’s too dirty for me.” I turned away, dragging my heavy, protesting legs step by step toward the exit. As I rounded the corner, I caught a glimpse of Cynthia lifting Tyler into her arms. I wondered, when I was nothing but a pile of ash, if she ever found out that the bracelet she threw on the floor could have bought me a few extra days free from the agonizing pain that made me wish for death… would she feel victorious? Or would she feel a sliver of regret? But that was a question for after I was gone. I wouldn’t be around to see it. I was reaching my limit. The last dose of pain medication had completely worn off. Cold sweat soaked through my clothes, and every step sent a violent spasm through my chest. … Back in my drafty, single-room apartment, I spent the longest night of my life. I writhed on the narrow twin bed, too weak to even scream. Caught between fever dreams and pure agony, my mind drifted, slipping back to when I was twenty. In the dream, Cynthia was still that bright-eyed, hardworking student, her forehead beaded with sweat. Back then, her eyes held nothing but gentle tenderness and fierce, protective love for me. I reached out blindly, trying to grasp the fading illusion, as if those long-dead memories could somehow numb the raw pain tearing through my flesh. “Cynthia… where’s the red string bracelet you made me?” As the whisper left my lips, I realized why I had stared so hard at Tyler’s wrist tonight. The design of that luxury watch was strikingly similar to the cheap digital watch Cynthia had bought me for my twentieth birthday. That year, my family had been pressuring me into arranged dates, and I was miserable. To cheer me up, Cynthia had spent an entire month hauling bricks at a scorching construction site in the dead of summer. Her skin had peeled, and her hands were covered in bloody blisters, all just to buy me a halfway decent digital watch. I remembered crying as I applied ointment to her raw hands, calling her a fool. She had just grinned, her teeth white against her sunburnt face, promising me that as long as we were together, she would build a beautiful life for us. She swore she’d never let me suffer. When we were twenty, I believed her promises would last a lifetime. The physical pain clawed at my nerves again, forcing tears and sweat onto my mildewed pillow. “Cynthia… I saw you give that watch to someone else tonight. It hurts so much…” “Jesse, don’t cry.” The Cynthia in my dream panicked, gently wiping away my tears as if I were made of porcelain. “I promise, I’ll never let you cry again.” I sobbed, holding onto that warm shadow with everything I had, because in my heart, I knew that this dying dream was the only place I would ever see that girl again. When morning came, I woke to the same broken, decaying body. I didn’t know how long I’d been unconscious. When I opened my eyes, my throat felt like dry sand. I reached instinctively for the cracked glass on my nightstand. “Jesse, here. Drink some water.” Through the haze, a familiar yet distant face came into focus. Cynthia was sitting there, the icy, arrogant mask she usually wore completely gone. There was a soft, aching warmth in her eyes, reminiscent of the girl she was at twenty. Believing I was still trapped in my fever dream, I leaned forward and let her guide the glass, swallowing the cool water. “Jesse, look,” she whispered, pushing a velvet box into my hands. “I found your old digital watch. And Tyler’s Patek Philippe—it’s in here too. Let’s stop fighting, okay? Let’s just go back to how we were.” I stared down at the yellowed, cheap plastic watch resting beside the dazzling diamond timepiece. The water I had just swallowed felt like liquid nitrogen, freezing my throat and stabbing into my lungs. There was no going back. The three years of systematic humiliation, the way she had trampled my remaining pride outside the lounge last night—every single blow was permanently etched into my bones. With a sudden burst of energy, I slapped the velvet box out of her hand, sending it flying across the room. “Are you insane, Cynthia?” I rasped, laughing coldly. “I mailed that piece of garbage back to you the exact day I signed the contract with Naomi Albright. Why on earth are you digging up my trash now?” The room went dead silent. The fragile warmth in Cynthia’s eyes shattered, replaced by a dark, bloodshot rage. She lunged, grabbing my shirt collar and pinning me hard against the mold-stained wall. “You’re playing with me?” she hissed, her voice shaking. “Last night, you were burning up, crying for this watch, begging through your tears… and it was all a goddamn act?” It took me a second to realize that last night hadn’t been a dream after all. But to a dying man, what difference did it make? I curled my lips into a mocking smile. “Of course, Ms. Shaw. I just wanted to see how far I could string along a powerful, ruthless executive like you. Do you see how pathetic you look right now?” We had been entangled for seven years; I knew exactly where to twist the knife to cause the most pain. Cynthia was a proud woman. She could never tolerate being played for a fool. “Shut up!” She lost all control, crashing her mouth against mine in a desperate, punishing kiss. She bit down hard, and the sharp, metallic taste of blood instantly bloomed between us. I had no strength to fight her off, letting the iron-like taste wash over my tongue. When she finally pulled away, her chest was heaving, her eyes wild. “Three years, Jesse. Do you even have a heart left in there?” “I paraded all those boys in front of you. Why didn’t you get jealous? Why didn’t you scream at me?” “Would it kill you to just bend a little? To admit that you still care about me?” “Do you have any idea how happy I was when I heard you crying for that cheap watch last night…” “How dare you lie to me, Jesse!” Her voice cracked on my name, thin and laced with a suffocating, desperate sorrow. Even though I was determined to take my secrets to the grave, my chest throbbed with a dull, heavy ache that left me speechless. In the stifling silence of our standoff, Tyler’s voice suddenly drifted from the hallway. “Cynthia? Are you in there? Why did you change the door code? My wrist hurts… are you mad at me?” The vulnerability in Cynthia’s eyes vanished instantly, locked away behind her familiar wall of ice. “I’m done wasting my time on you,” she said coldly. “Starting today, Tyler is moving into the estate. He’s taking your place.” She let go of my collar and turned toward the door. “You actually gave him the door code…” Before I could finish the sentence, a sudden, hot rush surged from the back of my throat. I coughed violently, and a spray of dark crimson blood splattered across the faded linoleum. Cynthia stopped dead in her tracks. She turned around, her brow furrowing as she stared at me with a cold sneer. “You missed your calling, Jesse. You should have been an actor. Did you actually prepare a fake blood pack? You’ll do anything for money, won’t you? Did you put on this kind of show for Naomi Albright, too?” She thought it was a trick. But I knew the reality: my fragile body couldn’t handle the strain of these emotional storms. That single fit had drained what little life I had left. Clawing my way onto the edge of the mattress, I managed to stand, gripping the bed frame for support. I snatched the velvet box from the floor and hurled it at her. “Get your trash out of here! You and Tyler can both rot! I’m still breathing—don’t you dare ruin my home!” Cynthia let out a dark, mocking laugh. “You think you still have a home? Tomorrow, I’m having Tyler set up right across from your breakfast cart. The more miserable you are, the happier I’ll be!” A blinding wave of fury washed over me, and another deep cough tore a fresh mouthful of blood from my lips. My vision began to dim. “Cynthia… you don’t know the first thing about love. Did you ever bother to look into why I went to the Albrights? Do you honestly believe those loan sharks hounding your father just magically grew a conscience and walked away?!” “You’ve spent years treating me like dirt… Cynthia, you are going to regret this for the rest of your life!” Crimson stained my shirt front, pooling fast. The sneer wiped clean off Cynthia’s face. Panic took hold of her, her body trembling violently as she lunged forward to catch my collapsing frame. Her voice cracked, barely recognizable. “Jesse! Jesse, look at me! Don’t close your eyes, please… I’m taking you to the hospital right now!”

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To please his new boss, my dad forced me to go bungee jumping during our mandatory corporate retreat. I have a congenital heart defect. Standing on the platform, a hundred and fifty feet in the air, my heart felt like it was being squeezed by an iron fist. My legs shook. I tried to back away, but the instructor grabbed my harness and shoved me right to the edge. “A grown man, scared of this? The female intern just jumped without even blinking.” He looked at my trembling body, his mouth curling into a sneer of pure disgust. “Bungee jumping is the best way to conquer fear. Cowards like you live their whole lives without actually living!” Down below, my dad looked up and yelled, his voice dripping with impatience. “Ethan Miller! What are you waiting for? The CEO already jumped. Don’t embarrass me!” “Even if you die of fright today, you’re going down that platform!” My heart was beating so fast I couldn’t count the rhythms. My chest felt like an anvil was resting on it. Before I could speak, the instructor gave me a rough shove from behind. My body plummeted into the open air. The moment I hit the lowest point of the fall, my heart gave one violent spasm, and then—it stopped. I hung there in mid-air, dangling like a broken puppet with its strings cut. Slowly, my soul drifted upward. I looked down at my tear-streaked face. “I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t mean to ruin your day.” “But this time, my heart really couldn’t take it.”

“Why isn’t he bouncing? Did the cord get stuck?” Caleb Davis chewed on his toothpick, leaning over the railing of the platform. He frowned, shouting down to the staff at the bottom. My body hung in mid-air, limbs dangling limply, like an old shirt tossed over a clothesline. The elasticity of the bungee cord had completely vanished. All that was left was the slow, residual sway of inertia—left, then right, slow as a pendulum. Then, it came to a complete stop. About thirty people were gathered below, most of them squinting up at the sky. Some leaned against the wooden pillars of the pavilion, while others pulled out their phones to film. A few coworkers whispered among themselves, their faces relaxed, enjoying the free drama. My dad stood at the very front of the crowd. He cupped his hands around his mouth, his voice slicing through the open valley. “Ethan! Wave your hand so we know you’re fine!” No one answered. “Did you hear me? Stop faking it up there!” His face flushed red, the veins on his neck bulging. A coworker next to him gently nudged his arm. “Hey, Richard, is he really unconscious? Maybe we should have the crew pull him down to check?” My dad slapped the man’s hand away, his voice sharp with the humiliation of being publicly embarrassed. “He’s faking. He’s been doing this since he was a kid. Whenever things don’t go his way, he plays sick. Ignore him. The more attention you give him, the worse he gets.” I floated above the high platform, staring down at him. Mr. Vance, the CEO, stood under the shade of the pavilion. He sipped his iced Americano and checked his Rolex with a slight frown. Next to him was a girl in a white sundress. She held her phone high, her camera pointed directly at where I hung. Chloe Vance. The CEO’s daughter. She had been brought in as an intern last month, and her desk was right next to my dad’s. “Look, guys. This guy jumped and now he’s just hanging there, totally frozen. This is literally so embarrassing.” She whispered into her phone screen, laughing as her thumb scrolled through the TikTok Live comments. “Don’t worry, he’s totally fine. He’s probably just a coward who passed out from crying.” Caleb signaled his assistant to crank the winch. “Creak. Creak.” The metal groaned as my body was dragged up, inch by inch. He crouched by the edge of the platform. The moment my shoulders cleared the railing, he grabbed my collar and hauled me onto the deck. My head rolled back, my chin resting limply against my collarbone. Caleb slapped my cheek. Once, twice, three times. He wasn’t gentle. “Hey, buddy? Wake up.” No response. He slapped me twice more, then placed two fingers right under my nose. One second. Two seconds. Three seconds. The toothpick dropped from his mouth. His face paled, but only for a fraction of a second. He quickly scanned the crowd below, then glanced at the safety liability sign bolted to the wooden wall. Then, he crouched back down, slapping my shoulder casually. “Will, go grab a bottle of water and the first-aid kit,” he muttered to his assistant, his voice barely a whisper. The assistant blinked, confused. “Caleb, he looks… really bad.” “Just get the water,” Caleb cut him off, his voice turning to steel. The assistant turned and ran. Caleb looked down at me, yanked my collar loose to make it look like he was helping me breathe, and yelled down to the crowd. “He’s fine! Just fainted from the shock! He’ll be up in a minute!” An immediate wave of laughter erupted from the crowd below. My dad let out a long, heavy sigh of relief, patting his chest before walking over to Mr. Vance. “See, Mr. Vance? I told you he’s a coward. Fainted right on cue.” His voice carried a flattering, apologetic chuckle, as if he were apologizing for my lack of manners. Mr. Vance took another sip of his coffee. “Young people these days. They just need to be toughened up.” Chloe chimed in from the side. “Mr. Miller, Ethan will be fine. I was scared when I jumped too, but the moment you drop, it’s like, totally worth it.” She smiled, her camera still aimed at the platform. My dad smiled back at her, then glanced up at the tower. Caleb was currently splashing bottled water onto my face and rubbing my temples. Everything looked normal. Everything fit perfectly into the box of “he’s fine.” I floated in the air, watching a stranger splash water onto my cold, lifeless face. I was treated like a piece of meat that had lost all sensation. Meanwhile, my dad stood below, eagerly chatting up his boss. “Mr. Vance, the catered BBQ buffet should be ready by now. Why don’t we try the local ribs?”

“He’s still not waking up? What do we do?” Caleb’s assistant ran back up with the first-aid kit, crouching beside me to start CPR. Caleb grabbed his arm, stopping him. “Don’t touch him.” The assistant looked up, eyes wide with confusion. Caleb didn’t explain. He leaned down and put his fingers back under my nose. One. Two. Three. His face remained a mask, but his Adam’s apple bobbed heavily. He stood up, pulling the assistant to the far side of the platform, turning their backs to the crowd below. “Call 911.” “What? I thought you said he just fainted—” “I said call 911. Stop arguing.” Terrified by Caleb’s tone, the assistant pulled out his phone and opened the keypad. Caleb’s hand slapped down over the screen. “Call them, but don’t do it here. Go down the stairs and find somewhere quiet.” The assistant nodded quickly, ducking down the wooden stairs of the tower. Caleb crouched back beside my body. He splashed more water on my face, yelling, “Wake up, buddy!” making sure his voice carried. But his other hand was wrapped around my wrist, three fingers pressed hard against my pulse point. He held it there for a long time. He felt nothing. Down below, my dad and Mr. Vance had already walked over to the BBQ area. Chloe skipped ahead of them, still broadcasting live, her camera finally drifting away from the tower. Most of the crowd had dispersed, but a few coworkers were still looking up. One of them whispered to another. “Is he really okay? He hasn’t moved in like fifteen minutes.” “The instructor said he just fainted. Caleb’s been running this jump for eight years. He knows what he’s doing.” “True.” The two of them turned toward the buffet. Caleb heard every word from the platform. He looked down at my face. My lips had turned from a dull blue to a deep, bruised purple. He stood up, pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket, and smoothed it out. It was the liability waiver. At the very bottom, in the signature line, the name “Ethan Miller” was written in clean, heavy strokes. The handwriting carried the distinct, pressurized style of an older man. He refolded the paper and slid it deep into his pocket. The motion was swift, practiced. I floated above him, watching him hide the evidence. That wasn’t my signature. This morning, in the parking lot, my dad had slammed the tablet in front of me. “Sign it.” I had read the terms. The third line read in bold, black letters: “Participants must certify they do not suffer from any pre-existing heart conditions, high blood pressure, or other medical issues.” “Dad, it says right here. No heart conditions.” He snatched the stylus out of my hand and scribbled my name across the screen. “Drop the excuses. We’re going to be late.” After signing, he handed the tablet to Caleb, slipping two hundred-dollar bills under the counter. “Hey, instructor. My son is a bit of a coward. When he gets up there, give him a little push if you have to.” Caleb took the cash, feeling its thickness, and grinned. “Consider it done. No problem at all.” Now, those two hundred-dollar bills and that digital waiver record were locked in Caleb’s possession. Hidden away. Half an hour passed. The ambulance still hadn’t arrived. The retreat was in a state park, nearly fifteen miles from the nearest hospital. Caleb sat in the corner of the platform, his arms wrapped around his knees, chewing through toothpick after toothpick. When one splintered, he spat it out and reached for another. My body lay on the deck. My head was tilted to the side, my mouth slightly agape, like a sentence cut short. The water on my face had dried, leaving salt-stained streaks across my skin. The smell of grilled meat and laughter drifted up from below. Someone had hooked up a Bluetooth speaker, playing upbeat pop music. In the distance, I could see my dad standing beside Mr. Vance, holding a paper plate in one hand and serving him a skewer of ribs with the other. He was smiling. He was smiling so hard his face looked strained, sweat glistening on his forehead. Mr. Vance took a bite and muttered something approvingly. My dad immediately bowed his head lower, nodding like a bobblehead. Chloe sat on a folding chair with her legs crossed, three different cans of soda lined up in front of her. She blew a kiss to her phone camera. “Thanks for the concern, guys! The guy is totally fine. He’s just super dramatic and fainted because he’s a scaredy-cat.” The comments flooded the chat. Some asked, “Is he awake yet?” while others posted laughing emojis. She glanced at the screen and giggled. “Seriously, don’t worry. His dad literally said he’s been doing this since he was a kid. He just plays sick when he wants attention.” I watched it all from the sky—on one side, the smell of sizzling meat; on the other, a corpse slowly growing cold on a hundred-and-fifty-foot platform. Two different worlds, separated by thirty yards, a plume of grill smoke, and a collective, unspoken agreement to look the other way. No one looked up at me anymore. Even Caleb had stopped looking. He stared at his sneakers, lost in his own head. Finally, the wail of a siren pierced the heavy afternoon air. The siren grew louder, shattering the lazy atmosphere of the park. Several coworkers paused, forks suspended in mid-air. Caleb bolted upright, looking down at the parking lot. “Shit,” he muttered. He ran to the railing and yelled down to the crowd. “Hey, don’t worry, everyone! That’s just the private medical van I booked for us! Standard health check for the retreat package!” A few coworkers looked up, nodded, and went back to their food. But my dad’s fork stopped. He stared at the white ambulance pulling into the gravel parking lot, the smile on his face slowly freezing. That wasn’t a corporate wellness van. The red and blue lights on the roof were flashing.

“Who called an ambulance?” My dad set his paper plate down and hurried toward the parking lot, intercepting the paramedics as they stepped out of the vehicle. Two paramedics in neon yellow vests, carrying a trauma kit and a gurney, were preparing to head toward the tower. My dad stepped directly in front of them, arms outstretched. “Excuse me, there’s been a mistake. No one is hurt here.” The lead paramedic looked at him. “We received a 911 dispatch for an unresponsive male at the bungee tower. Unconscious for over twenty minutes.” “No, no, it’s just a young man who got scared and fainted. The instructor is up there taking care of him,” my dad said, lowering his voice as he cast a nervous glance back at Mr. Vance. “Please, you can leave. It’s better if we don’t cause a scene.” When he said “scene,” his eyes locked onto Mr. Vance. Mr. Vance had stood up. Holding his iced coffee, he walked over, his brow furrowed. The paramedics didn’t budge. “Sir, since we’ve been dispatched, we are legally required to evaluate the patient. It’s protocol.” “There’s no need for protocol—” “Let them go up and check,” Mr. Vance’s voice cut in from behind. He walked up next to my dad and patted his shoulder. “Richard, just in case. Let them take a look so we can all relax.” My dad’s jaw twitched. He wanted to argue, but meeting Mr. Vance’s eyes, the words died in his throat. “…Alright. Thank you for your time, officers.” The paramedics grabbed their gear and rushed up the wooden stairs of the tower. Caleb was leaning against the railing, still chewing on a toothpick. When he saw the neon vests emerge from the stairwell, his face went completely white. “Hey, guys. Who called? The kid just fainted. He just needs a few minutes.” They ignored him. The lead paramedic knelt beside me, lifting my eyelid to shine a penlight. The pupil was dilated and fixed. He switched to the other eye. The same. He pressed his stethoscope against my chest. He tilted his head, listening for five agonizing seconds. Then, he removed it. He placed two fingers on my carotid artery, pressing down for three seconds. Then, he let go. He looked up at Caleb. “How long has he been unresponsive?” “About… thirty, forty minutes?” Caleb’s voice was barely a squeak, his eyes darting around. “And you told people he just fainted?” “Yeah, he just got sca—” “His pupils are dilated, there’s no respiration, no pulse, and his core temperature is already dropping. This isn’t a faint.” The paramedic stood up, his voice cold as ice. “He’s dead.” The toothpick fell from Caleb’s mouth. “No… that’s impossible. I was just splashing water on him. He’s just out.” “He’s been dead for at least thirty minutes. Cardiac arrest. He is way past the resuscitation window.” The paramedic keyed his radio. “Dispatch, this is Medic 4 at the state park bungee tower. We have a male patient, approximately twenty-two years old, cold and unresponsive. Dilated pupils, flatlined, no respiration. Pronounced dead at the scene. Apparent sudden cardiac arrest. Requesting local PD and the coroner.” The radio crackled twice. “Copy that, Medic 4. Police dispatching.” Caleb slid down the wooden railing, his legs giving out entirely as he slumped onto the deck. Below, my dad was still chatting with Mr. Vance by the parking lot. He hadn’t gone up the tower. He hadn’t looked up once. He didn’t know. He had no idea. The paramedic walked to the edge of the platform and looked down. “Is the family of the deceased down there?” His voice wasn’t loud, but in the sudden quiet of the clearing, it carried perfectly. Several coworkers froze, their hands hovering over their plates. The word “deceased” hit the group like a stone dropped into a still pond. A few turned their heads slowly toward my dad. My dad was busy refilling Mr. Vance’s water cup. He didn’t hear. Or maybe he did, but his brain refused to connect the word to himself. Chloe was the quickest to react. She put her phone away, walked to the base of the tower, and yelled up. “Who are you talking about? Didn’t you guys say he just fainted?” The paramedic didn’t answer her. He spoke into his radio again. “Requesting immediate family to the tower for identification.” Chloe’s expression shifted. She bit her lip, jogged over to my dad, and tugged on his sleeve. “Mr. Miller… the medics want you to go up.” My dad set the pitcher down, his brow furrowing. “Go up? For what? They said he was fine.” “They said…” Chloe hesitated. She glanced at her father, then swallowed her words, changing her tone. “Maybe they just need you to sign some paperwork. You know, for protocol.” My dad sighed, looking back at Mr. Vance. “Mr. Vance, I’ll be right back.” Mr. Vance nodded silently. As my dad walked toward the wooden stairs, his pace was slow. Step by step, his leather dress shoes clacked against the wood. He still thought it was just paperwork. He didn’t know that what was waiting for him at the top of that tower wasn’t a form to sign. It was his son’s corpse. I floated above him, watching him climb. The wind swept up from the canyon, rustling the hem of his blazer. He had bought that blazer specifically for this retreat. Mr. Vance’s secretary had leaked that the CEO preferred “smart casual” attire. He reached the top deck. He saw Caleb shivering in the corner, the two paramedics standing solemn, and me. I was lying flat on the wooden deck. My face was pointed toward the sky, my lips a deep purple, dry tear stains marking my cheeks. My eyes were half-open, showing only the whites. He stopped. “Ethan?” His voice was soft, carrying a desperate, fragile hope he didn’t even realize he had. No one answered. He threw himself down, kneeling beside me, reaching out to touch my face. It was freezing. “Ethan, what’s wrong? Talk to me!” He cradled my head, trying to make me look at him. My neck rolled limply to the side, my head heavy against his arm. Like a doll with its stuffing ripped out. My dad gripped my shoulders, his fingers digging into my shirt. He spun around to face the paramedics, his eyes wild with confusion. “What is this? He just fainted! Why aren’t you giving him CPR? Do something!” The paramedic looked at him, waiting a beat before speaking. “Sir, are you his father?” “Yes! I am! Save him! Please!” “I’m sorry.” The paramedic’s voice was slow and deliberate, as if trying to cushion the blow of a sledgehammer. “He had no vital signs when we arrived. No pulse, no respiration, pupils dilated. It appears to be sudden cardiac arrest.” “He has been gone for over thirty minutes. There is nothing we can do.” My dad stared at him, his mouth open, waiting for the “but.” Waiting for the turn. Waiting for them to say, “But if we get him to the hospital, there’s still a chance.” Nothing came. “Sir, I am so sorry for your loss.” My dad’s face drained of color, turning a sickly, papery white.

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I got pregnant before our wedding. I specifically warned Ethan that his friends weren’t allowed to play any stupid pranks at his bachelor party or on our big day. But on the day of the wedding, those frat bros of his splashed paint all over us. Shocked and furious, I lost my temper on the spot. Yet, to avoid offending his precious friends, Ethan turned around and started blaming me. “It’s just a joke, Chloe. Is it really that big of a deal? Just clean it up.” I took a deep breath, booked an appointment at the abortion clinic, and coldly shook off his hand. “This wedding is off!” After the unexpected pregnancy, Ethan rushed to propose to me. When our families sat down for dinner, his mother suddenly said, “Since she’s pregnant, we need to get married quickly. It’ll be inconvenient once her belly starts showing.” My mom obviously shared the same concern. She exchanged a look with me and nodded in agreement. Seeing my family relent, Mrs. Davis abruptly shifted the topic to a prenup. “Even though we’ll be one family after marriage, it’s still better to keep our finances separate.” I frowned, feeling a tight knot of frustration in my chest. My family wasn’t short on money, but being rushed into marriage just because of a pregnancy already made me uncomfortable. For a moment, the room fell dead silent. My mom sighed, trying to smooth things over. “We aren’t after your money. As long as Ethan treats my daughter well, nothing else matters.” I glanced at Ethan. After a moment of thought, for the sake of the baby, I chose to back down. The conversation then turned to the guest list. Thinking of Ethan’s core group of friends, my right eyelid began to twitch. “Ethan, you know I can’t stand people who don’t know their boundaries. Make sure your friends behave. I just want a simple, quiet wedding.” He smiled and pulled me into his arms. “Yes, yes, whatever my beautiful wife says. My boys aren’t that clueless. Don’t worry.” I didn’t say anything. On Ethan’s last birthday, his friends got dead drunk, trashed the VIP lounge at the bar, and left me to bail them out of the precinct at midnight. But since he repeatedly promised that the wedding would go smoothly, I finally nodded, letting my guard down. For this wedding, I ran myself ragged, personally handling everything from the photographers to the venue decor. The night before the wedding, I went over the schedule with Ethan one last time. Ethan suddenly mentioned he wanted to plan a surprise for me during the ceremony. Being naturally introverted, I rejected the idea immediately. I didn’t want to be put on display like a circus animal. Seeing that I disagreed, he went to my parents. My parents, who loved a lively atmosphere, persuaded me, “You only get married once, Chloe. You’re all young. A little fun is good.” Ethan promised me multiple times that it wouldn’t cross any lines. So, I compromised. Knowing I was getting married the next day, I couldn’t sleep at all. I ended up staying awake until 4:00 AM. I had hired the most expensive makeup artist in town, and the session took over two hours. But thinking that I was marrying the love of my life, no amount of exhaustion felt bitter. The makeup was perfect. I finally put on my custom wedding dress, which had been ordered six months ago. Before Ethan came to pick me up, I mentally rehearsed every possible mishap to prevent any chaos. But I never, in my wildest dreams, expected that the biggest disaster would come from Ethan’s own friends. At the venue, his group of friends swaggered in, looking rowdy. I thought they were going to cause trouble right away. But they just looked at me with smirks full of hidden meaning. Nothing happened even after we exchanged rings. I finally let out a small sigh of relief. But just as I was about to sit down and rest, Tyler, one of his friends, suddenly spoke up. “Hey, according to our college tradition, the bride has to feed the groom’s best buds cake. One bite for each of us, or you don’t get to leave!”

The guys exchanged glances and looked at me with creepy, knowing smiles. Thinking they were just joking, I forced down my disgust. “We grew up in the same town, Tyler. I’ve never heard of such a tradition.” I didn’t want to play along, so I turned to walk away. To my surprise, Ethan grabbed my hand. “Come on, Chloe, it’s just feeding them some cake. Everyone is watching.” Before he even finished, Tyler brought over a plate of cake, grinning like a fool. “Come on, Chloe! Don’t be a party pooper!” Ethan’s parents stood to the side, completely silent. His seven or eight friends watched me with mocking smiles. I took a deep breath. Not wanting to throw a tantrum on my wedding day, I suppressed my rage and began to feed them. Tyler opened his mouth with a suggestive expression and deliberately licked the fork. The next two guys did the exact same thing, making vulgar double entendres. “Wow, the cake Chloe feeds us tastes so much sweeter!” After saying that, they burst into loud, obnoxious laughter. I slammed the fork onto the table. “I’m done!” Everyone stared at each other in awkward silence. The atmosphere froze. I was burning with rage. Ethan’s mom squeezed out of the crowd, grabbing my hand to play peacemaker. “Chloe, sweetheart, don’t be mad. Everyone is waiting. You’ve already fed a few, so let’s call it a day. You guys, stop standing around! Did you really expect Chloe to feed every single one of you?” Ethan also walked over to apologize. “Chloe, it’s our wedding day. They were just trying to hype up the crowd. Please don’t be mad…” Seeing this, the friends walked over with fake smiles and offered half-hearted apologies. My parents sighed, stepping in to smooth things over, and gently patted my hand. Looking at Ethan standing next to me, for the first time, I wondered: “Is this marriage really worth it?” I was incredibly annoyed, but since I didn’t want to cause a scene, I gave a tense nod. However, I didn’t realize that my tolerance would only invite worse treatment. Ethan took my hand and led me toward the backyard garden. I noticed his friends suddenly getting excited, rushing to the front of the yard. My heart began to race. I turned to look at Ethan. His eyes were suddenly dodging mine. My heart sank, and I instinctively tried to stop walking. But it was too late. With a racing heart, I whispered fiercely to Ethan, “What the hell are your friends doing? Are they planning another stunt?” He stammered, “Don’t overthink it, Chloe. They know their limits.” Seeing him like this, a lump formed in my throat. I couldn’t understand why Ethan turned into a spineless coward the moment his friends were around. Before this, Ethan had been a decent boyfriend. He once drove sixty miles back and forth just because I said I wanted a specific cupcake. When my mom hurt her leg, he stayed up all night to find the best doctor for her. He would blush when I kissed his cheek, and he would get excited like a kid over a simple gift I bought him. Back then, I truly believed he was the one. But now, standing at our wedding venue, looking at his shifting, guilty eyes, I suddenly felt a wave of panic. He gave a fake cough to hide his nervousness. “Let’s go in. Everyone is waiting.” I pulled myself together, entering the yard with a heavy heart. Before I could even react, his friends suddenly marched toward us carrying buckets, triumph written all over their faces. From a distance, I smelled a horrible, chemical stench. In the next second, they lifted the buckets and splashed the contents right over Ethan and me.

What they threw at us was industrial paint! I screamed in pure rage, “Are you guys fucking insane?!” The custom wedding dress I had waited six months for, the makeup that took two hours—all of it was completely ruined! Yet, they showed absolutely no remorse. Instead, they held their stomachs and roared with laughter. “Hahaha! Look at Ethan! He looks like a drowned rat!” Ethan didn’t react with the anger I expected. Instead, he let out a weak, apologetic chuckle. I felt like someone was choking me. I couldn’t even scream. “Ethan! Do you not have a backbone? This is our wedding!” Ethan pulled my arm, winking at me desperately. “Chloe, it’s our wedding day. They just wanted to bring some good luck. It’ll wash off.” The paint on my body was smelly and sticky. The guests were looking at us with a mix of pity and amusement. The wedding I had dreamed of for years was utterly ruined. I felt like I was going to explode. I shrieked, “What do you mean ‘it’ll wash off’? They threw paint on us!” My parents’ faces turned pale. They pointed at the guys in anger. “What is the meaning of this? How could you ruin a wedding like this!” Tyler was still laughing, waving his hand dismissively. “Mr. and Mrs. Sarah, relax. It’s just a prank. It’s not like she only has one dress. She can just change.” “Ethan, buddy, we finally got you good today! Aren’t you thrilled?” I stared at Ethan. He looked incredibly pathetic, covered in wet paint. “Alright, alright, you guys had your fun. I’ll get you back when you get married!” Ethan had absolutely no intention of holding them accountable. His calmness made me look like the hysterical one. Tears welled up in my eyes, and my heart turned ice-cold. With red eyes, I demanded hoarsely, “Ethan, is this how you handle things? Do you really not care that our wedding is ruined?” “They need to give me an explanation! They need to apologize to me right now!” Losing my mind, I snatched a half-empty paint bucket from the ground and flung it right back at them. The guys ducked, still smirking. “Whoa, Chloe, don’t be so dramatic. It’s just a joke.” All the guests stopped talking, pulling out their phones to record the drama. My mom’s eyes were red as she stomped her foot. “What kind of nightmare is this?!” All my dignity was stripped away today! But Ethan frowned at me, looking at me as if I was the one being unreasonable. “Chloe, seriously? My friends just wanted to liven things up. Look around, everyone else is having a good time. You’re ruining the mood.” I stared at him. “I am asking you one last time. Are you going to make them apologize to me?” His usual smiling face finally hardened. “Chloe! Enough! They didn’t actually hurt you.” Seeing how relentless I was, Ethan’s mom also lost her patience. “Chloe, they were just having some harmless fun. All the guests are waiting for the reception.” I felt a deep, crushing disappointment. I hadn’t even officially joined their family, and they were already trying to put me in my place. I thought Ethan would at least stand by my side, but he couldn’t even comprehend why I was angry. Seeing me freeze in place, refusing to budge, Ethan’s face completely darkened. “Chloe, that’s enough! I’ll explain things to you after the reception. Don’t leave everyone hanging.” My mom wiped her tears next to me, whispering to ask what I wanted to do. My heart felt like it was being pierced by a thousand needles. I remained silent. Mrs. Davis was now thoroughly annoyed. “Chloe, what on earth is wrong with you?” Ethan’s expression was incredibly tense. “Chloe, go clean yourself up. The dinner is starting soon.” Hundreds of guests stared at us, enjoying the free show. Ethan’s friends looked smug, whispering among themselves. “Man, your girl has a nasty temper. She’s going to be hard to control.” “Well, pregnant women are always hormonal! Ethan, what are you scared of? She’s carrying your kid, she has to marry you anyway. Why panic?” “Yeah, getting whipped by a pregnant chick? That’s embarrassing, bro!” They burst into another round of loud laughter. My mom’s face was incredibly grim. Concerned about the baby in my womb, she looked like she wanted to speak but held back. I looked around the room, finally locking eyes with Ethan’s impatient face. I let out a cold laugh. I took out my phone and, without a single shred of hesitation, booked an abortion appointment online. Then, I looked up at Ethan and forced a smile. “You know, I really wanted to spend the rest of my life with you.” Hearing this, he let out a sigh of relief and reached for my hand. “That’s more like it. Now, let’s quickly—” Before he could finish, I raised my hand and slapped him across the face with every ounce of my strength. “But now, I’d rather die!”

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Everyone in our social circle laughed at me, calling me the most devoted substitute Ethan Vance ever had. I was at Ethan’s beck and call for five whole years before he finally agreed to marry me. But on the eve of our wedding, outside our new penthouse, I heard his heavy breathing mixed with another woman’s. I pushed the door open. Chloe Thorne’s face was flushed, while Ethan was calmly buttoning his shirt. He looked up, giving me a dismissive glance. “Don’t worry, the wedding is still on. You’re still going to be Mrs. Vance.” “It’s just a shame you look less and less like Clara these days. But Chloe… even her moans sound exactly like her.” I slapped him across the face, tears streaming down my cheeks. “Ethan, you are a monster!” The moment I ran out of his sight, I slowed my pace. I elegantly wiped the tears from my cheeks, pulled out my phone, and called Chloe. “Good job. That was a stellar performance.” “After five grueling years, it’s finally time to pull the net.” Ethan, you’ve had so many substitutes. Did no one ever tell you that Clara, your dead first love who drowned… had a younger sister who swore to make you pay in blood?

After hanging up with Chloe, my phone buzzed. Message after message from Ethan popped up on SnapChat: [I’m hungry. Come home and cook.] [Don’t make me wait.] My finger hovered over the screen for a second. Then, a cold sneer escaped my lips. For five years, Ethan had always been like this. He was so confident that I loved him to the point of madness, so sure I couldn’t survive without him, that he never gave a damn about my feelings. I lowered my head and replied in my usual submissive tone: “I… I’m on my way back.” “Your stomach has been acting up lately. I’ll make sure to prepare some light fruits for you first.” When I got back with the groceries, Ethan was lounging on the sofa, holding Chloe in his arms. Hearing me walk in, he didn’t even look up. “You’re back? Make some soup.” “After all these years, only your cooking tastes like Clara’s.” I nodded meekly, keeping my eyes downcast as I walked toward the kitchen. But before I could take another step, Chloe’s sweet, dripping voice sounded from behind me. “Ethan, I want to learn how to cook from Rainey. That way, we won’t have to bother her next time we’re having our intimate moments.” Hearing this, Ethan stroked Chloe’s hair affectionately. “Silly girl. Your hands are meant for playing the piano. They’re precious.” “But some people’s hands are born to cook and serve. Some people just don’t know their place. She practically begged to stay with me back then, and now she thinks because she’s becoming Mrs. Vance, she can show off.” He paused, then frowned and looked over at me. “Right, Rainey?” I knew Ethan was trying to humiliate me, punishing me for the slap I gave him earlier. I turned around immediately, putting on the terrified, eager-to-please face he loved so much. I looked at him with eyes full of desperate love, whispering with a crack in my voice: “I’m sorry, Ethan. I was out of line earlier. I shouldn’t have hit you.” I even took his hand and pressed it against my cheek, looking up at him like a beaten puppy. “You can slap me back. Just please don’t be angry with me, okay? I know I was wrong.” Ethan smiled, thoroughly satisfied with how hopelessly in love I looked. He stroked my face playfully before drawing his hand back. “Alright. At least you’re sensible.” Then he turned to Chloe. “Learn if you want.” “I have some business to take care of in the study. You two… play nice.” With that, he walked up to the second-floor study. The kitchen door closed. Chloe listened to make sure he was gone, then handed me a micro SD card from her pocket. With hesitation in her voice, she whispered: “Everything is in here.” “Are you really going to marry him? With the evidence we have, it’s enough to bring down the Vance family. You’ve endured five years. You don’t need to throw away your own life…” I clutched the SD card tightly, cutting her off. “No! I must marry him.” “I want to rip off his hypocritical mask at the altar! I want everyone in high society to see how rotten the Vance family really is!” “My sister Clara… will not die in vain!”

After getting the SD card, I prepared my counterattack. Naturally, I grew cold toward Ethan. I used “wedding prep” as an excuse to leave early and return late. When Ethan came home late, no one was waiting for him in the living room anymore. No hangover soup was warming on the stove. Even when we crossed paths, my smile lacked its usual warmth. He noticed. But he only thought it was another petty game to get his attention, so he didn’t care. Until one night, he tried to kiss me awake, and I turned my face away to avoid him. I closed my eyes and muttered sleepily: “Ethan, I’m too tired today.” Ethan’s expression shifted. He frowned, letting out a sharp sneer. “What a buzzkill.” But I kept my eyes shut, giving no reaction. Frustrated, he grabbed his coat, making a loud scene to get my attention. Before leaving, he said mockingly: “I’m going to Chloe’s.” “Don’t make breakfast tomorrow. I’m staying over.” He slammed the door hard. I opened my eyes slowly. Something felt off. Ethan never used to tell me where he was going. He never felt the need to report his whereabouts to me. While I was lost in thought, my phone buzzed with an encrypted message from Chloe on SnapChat: [He just called saying he missed me and is coming over. I’ll use being sick as an excuse to reject him.] A moment later, another text popped up. [Strange. He drank half a glass of whiskey, barely spoke, and left before I could even say no. Did you guys fight?] I paused, confused, and replied: [No. I just turned down his physical advances. He’s probably mad because I’ve been cold lately.] The “typing…” indicator on Chloe’s end stayed on for a long time. Finally, her message came through: [No wonder. He’s been distracted and moody around me lately. Rainey… I think Ethan might actually be in love with you.] Love? The word made me want to laugh out loud. How could a monster like Ethan Vance understand love? This was a man who stood by and watched his “first love” drown. I turned off my screen, ignoring her text. The next morning, as I was about to head out, the butler stopped me with a polite bow. “Ma’am, here is the invitation to the charity auction tonight.” “Mr. Vance requested your presence.” I took it without objection. He usually brought me to these high-society events, so it wasn’t surprising. But it was odd that he sent it through the butler without a call or text. He was probably still sulking. I didn’t care. That night, I went to the auction and headed straight for the front-row seat labeled “Mrs. Vance.” Just as I was about to sit down, a cold voice stopped me. “Rainey, that’s not your seat.” I turned around to see Ethan and Chloe arriving together. He pulled out the chair in front of me for Chloe with perfect gentlemanly grace. “Sit, Chloe.” Once they sat down, Ethan ignored me completely. I was left standing next to them like an unwanted prop. Whispers and jeers rose from the crowd around us. “Wow, Ethan has a new girl? Looks like Rainey’s five-year hustle didn’t secure her spot.” “She brought this on herself! I heard she started acting cold the moment he agreed to marry her. Just a toy who forgot her place.” “If this keeps up, the bride might change at the wedding in two days. She’s just a bedwarmer anyway.” I lowered my head, clenching my fists. Actually, it was a good reminder. The wedding was so close. I couldn’t let Ethan lose interest now. My act of “devotion” couldn’t slip. I looked up, throwing a pleading, tearful gaze at Ethan. Ethan stopped tapping his fingers on the armrest. He turned around, giving me a cool, calculating look. “Learned your lesson?”

I nodded meekly, keeping my head down. “Yes, Ethan. I was just stressed about the wedding…” He cut me off with an impatient wave of his hand. He turned to a nearby waiter. “Get her a chair. Standing there just embarrasses me!” Then he looked back at me. “I don’t have time for your excuses. You know I only like obedient women.” “Be quiet. The auction is starting.” I didn’t say another word and sat on the simple folding chair they brought, continuing to stare at him with longing. My devoted gaze cheered him up. He bid on item after item. The waiter brought the tray of won bids to Ethan. “Mr. Vance, where should we send these?” Ethan didn’t answer directly. He smoothed Chloe’s hair affectionately. “Send them to Miss Thorne’s apartment. Consider it a reward for being so good lately.” Chloe gasped, hugging him. “Ethan, you’re the best!” Ethan glanced at me, waiting for me to lose control. I didn’t disappoint him. I stood up, eyes red, and walked to him. “Ethan… what about me? Please don’t stop loving me.” He chuckled, pinching the back of my neck like I was a puppy. “What’s the rush? The best is saved for last.” I sat back down, seemingly mollified. When the final item, a magnificent diamond necklace symbolizing “Eternal Love,” came up, Ethan bid immediately before the starting price was even set. “Ten million dollars!” The crowd gasped. The auctioneer screamed, “Mr. Vance is incredibly generous! Who is the lucky lady destined for this necklace?” Believing his earlier hint, I stood up and walked to Ethan, eyes shining. “Thank you, Ethan. I knew you still cared…” “Who said this was for you?” Ethan interrupted, frowning. My smile froze. I paled, standing there like an idiot. Ethan walked past me, picked up the necklace, and put it on Chloe. “Chloe, only you can pull this off.” Snickers erupted into full-blown laughter at my expense. Humiliated, I burst into tears, covered my face, and ran out of the hall. Looking at my retreat, Chloe tapped Ethan’s chest. “Ethan, aren’t you being too mean to Rainey? What if she runs away?” Ethan laughed arrogantly. “Run? She would never.” “Everyone knows Rainey has no dignity when it comes to me. Even if I kicked her right now, she’d crawl back to my feet tomorrow morning.” Chloe’s smile stiffened with pity. Ethan asked, “What’s wrong? You usually hate her. Now you feel sorry for her?” Chloe pouted. “Of course not! I’m just worried your bride will run. Or… I could just marry you instead?” Ethan’s grip on Chloe’s waist tightened painfully. His eyes turned icy. “Chloe, don’t overstep. The title of Mrs. Vance belongs only to Rainey.” He patted her cheek. “Now, since you feel so ‘sorry’ for her, take the necklace off, find her, and give it to her. Tell her it’s from me. Then bring her back.” Chloe found me in the garden, my shoulders shaking in the shadows. “Rainey, call off the wedding,” she whispered, hugging me. “Don’t marry that scumbag. Don’t cry…” I turned around. There were no tears on my face. I was shaking with sheer, manic joy. “Chloe, you were right.” “Ethan… actually fell in love with me.” I leaned in, my eyes cold as ice. “Ethan Vance is finished.”

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Everyone knew I was the one chosen by old Mr. Arthur Sterling himself. Whoever married me would inherit the Sterling empire. At the engagement gala, wearing my custom-tailored designer gown, I was about to step onto the stage to announce the strategic marriage alliance between the Sterling and Vance families. But my fiancé, Julian Sterling, walked right into the spotlight, holding hands with my adopted sister, Chloe Vance. “Chloe and I are in love. She is the only woman I will ever marry.” “Aria is far too spoiled and willful. She doesn’t deserve to be Mrs. Sterling.” Just like that, my fiancé belonged to my adopted sister. Everyone in the room looked at me with either pity or mockery. But what Julian didn’t know was that the only reason his grandfather insisted on our marriage was that my mother is the sole heiress of the Thornes—an ultra-exclusive, secretive old-money dynasty. Eventually, I would return to the Thorne family to inherit their massive global empire. Since Julian made his choice, it was time to change the heir to the Sterling empire.

Julian tightly held Chloe’s hand, pulling her to stand in front of the crowd. Chloe let out a soft gasp, feigning an attempt to pull her hand back. “Julian, we can’t do this. Your grandfather arranged your marriage with Aria.” “You’re the only one I love, Chloe. I refuse to marry anyone else.” He locked fingers with her, looking directly at Arthur Sterling sitting in the VIP seat. “Grandfather, I’ve always loved Chloe. She is the only one I will marry.” The guests whispered, throwing pitiful and mocking glances my way. Everyone knew Julian and I grew up together, and that I was Arthur’s handpicked granddaughter-in-law. But now, Julian was slapping me in the face in front of the entire high society circle. Julian’s voice left no room for argument. “Aria and I might have grown up together, but I’ve only ever seen her as a sister. I have no romantic feelings for her.” “Chloe and I love each other. We’ve been together for a long time. In my heart, Chloe is my only wife. No other woman can take her place.” Julian’s parents, Richard and Beatrice, paled, nervously checking Arthur’s reaction. Julian wrapped his arm around Chloe’s waist and shot me a mocking look. “Aria, you know I don’t love you. You wouldn’t want to marry a man who doesn’t love you anyway, right?” “Besides, Chloe and I are already together. You can’t use Grandfather’s affection to tear us apart.” I glanced at them calmly, then bowed slightly to Arthur Sterling. “Arthur, since they love each other so much, I’ll step aside.” “I wish Chloe and Julian a lifetime of happiness.” Hearing my smooth resignation, a flash of annoyance crossed Julian’s face. But Chloe quickly clung to his arm. “Julian, your grandfather arranged your marriage with Aria. Will he be upset with us?” Julian patted Chloe’s hand reassuringly, speaking in a gentle, doting tone. “Don’t worry. Grandfather loves me the most. He won’t get mad at me over her.” “Besides, you’re the real daughter and future heir of the Vance family. This is still a union between our families. Why care about an outsider?” An outsider? Only my father and Arthur knew the truth about my identity. My mother was the sole heiress of the legendary Thorne dynasty. Back then, my parents’ marriage was purely a business alliance, and I was designated to inherit the Thorne empire, which is why I took my mother’s last name. On top of that, did Julian really think Chloe was my father’s biological daughter? Arthur Sterling frowned at Julian’s words. “Julian, stop playing around. Are you absolutely sure you want to marry Chloe?” Julian firmly slid the engagement ring onto Chloe’s finger and kissed her hand with dramatic devotion. “Grandfather, I’ve made up my mind. I will marry no one but Chloe.” Arthur looked at Julian with deep disappointment. If Julian had simply asked to change the bride beforehand, the old man might not have judged him so harshly. But choosing to humiliate me publicly in front of the entire elite class proved Julian was completely unreliable. “Fine. Have it your way.”

Now that Arthur had spoken, the tense crowd finally let out a breath. This engagement party had gathered the city’s most elite business moguls, and everyone was dying to see how this drama would unfold. Amidst the hushed whispers of the guests, Julian held Chloe’s hand and faced the crowd. “Thank you all for coming to celebrate my engagement to Chloe Vance today.” The guests exchanged looks, stunned that the Sterling and Vance families would pull off a last-minute bride swap right on stage. My father, Marcus, hadn’t expected this either. His face darkened instantly. I didn’t look great either, but I forced my spine straight, holding up my champagne glass to toast them under the scrutiny of the crowd. “Julian actually swapped his fiancée on the spot. He didn’t show Aria any respect at all.” “Didn’t Arthur insist on Aria being his granddaughter-in-law? Why did he agree to the swap?” “Getting swapped at your own engagement gala… how humiliating. I wonder what Aria did to make Julian reject her so publicly.” The whispers weren’t quiet. Marcus glared at Chloe, then turned to Julian with a cold expression. “Do you have any idea how much gossip your stunt is going to cause Aria?” “And you, Chloe. You’re old enough to think about the consequences. Are you trying to humiliate me?” Rebuked by Marcus, Chloe timidly tried to slip the ring off her finger to hand it to me. Arthur raised a hand to stop her. He patted my head with deep guilt and said warmly, “Aria, don’t worry. I will make this right for you. If you’re willing, there are several other fine young men in the Sterling family.” Julian’s parents heard this, but they assumed the old man was just comforting me, so they didn’t pay it much attention. But to their absolute shock, I pointed toward the corner of the room, right at the illegitimate Sterling son who was quietly watching the drama. “Actually, I’ve always had a crush on Luke. I hope you can bless our relationship, Arthur.” Everyone’s eyes darted to Luke, scanning back and forth between him and me. Luke was the illegitimate son of Julian’s late uncle. Ever since his father passed away, he had been ignored and mistreated by the family. But since he was still a Sterling, Arthur, wanting to avoid rumors that the family abused its own blood, had brought him in to raise him. Marcus looked at me in shock, whispering urgently in my ear. “Aria, I know you’re upset, but he’s just an illegitimate son. The Sterlings don’t care about him.” I casually swirled my champagne glass, raising it toward Luke. “It’s not his fault he was born illegitimate. I think he’s great, and I’d like to give it a shot.” Luke met my gaze with a lazy, amused smirk. “Since Miss Thorne likes me, let’s give it a shot.” The crowd’s glances became even more loaded with meaning. The news of the Sterling bride swap spread like wildfire through the elite circles. The moment the gala ended, I received a text from my mother. In a private lounge, my mother held me tightly, her eyes flashing with anger as she glared at Marcus. “Marcus Vance, how dare you let my daughter suffer such humiliation? Do you want to lose everything?” I squeezed her hand, steering the conversation back to business. “Arthur offered me a different partner. His name is Luke Sterling, and I actually like him.” Marcus wiped the sweat from his forehead and sighed. “He’s just an illegitimate son. He’s a complete outsider in the Sterling family. Why him?” Looking at my parents’ confused faces, I spoke calmly. “The marriage alliance was agreed upon by Arthur and Grandfather Thorne. I have to marry into the Sterling family regardless.” “Luke might be illegitimate, but he is by far the most capable man in the younger generation of Sterlings. From a business standpoint, he is the perfect partner.”

“Besides, since he’s an illegitimate son, marrying me means the Thorne family will be his ultimate backing in the Sterling empire. He will never mistreat me.” Meanwhile, Chloe became the most popular girl in high society. Everyone scrambled to kiss her feet. After all, with the Sterling and Vance families joining forces, any business that secured a partnership with them would skyrocket. I didn’t have time to deal with their petty games. I was overseas, focusing on the business expansion my mother had handed me. But when Arthur’s birthday came around, Chloe went out of her way to send me an invitation. She even called me several times, leaving me with no choice but to show up. The moment I stepped into the Sterling manor, all eyes fell on me. I didn’t show an ounce of awkwardness, smiling as I handed my gift to the butler. “Why is Aria Thorne here? Didn’t the engagement swap happen?” “Don’t you know? When Julian insisted on swapping brides, she got so mad she chose the family’s illegitimate son instead.” “Marrying an illegitimate son just to crawl into the Sterling family… Aria really has no shame.” Amidst the gossip, Chloe arrived, clinging tightly to Julian’s arm. Unlike her usual low-key and soft look, she was wearing a heavy, custom designer gown today, draped in loud, excessive diamond sets. It made her look incredibly tacky. When she saw me, she walked over with a fake, sweet smile, trying to grab my arm. “Aria! It’s so wonderful that we’re both marrying into the Sterling family. For the sake of our sisterly bond, I’ll make sure Julian gives your husband some career favors.” I almost laughed out loud. Even now, she still thought my ultimate goal was just to claw my way into the Sterling family. Julian thought so too. In his eyes, my desperation to marry into his family made me look pathetic. He glared at me like I was a piece of trash. Too lazy to deal with either of them, I turned to walk away, but my eyes caught the gem necklace around Chloe’s neck. It was the Sterling family heirloom necklace, which Arthur kept under lock and key. I was shocked to see it on Chloe. The Sterling heir hadn’t even been officially named yet. How did she get her hands on it? I pointed at the necklace, my gaze sharp. “Where did you get that necklace?” Julian looked guilty for a split second, while Chloe stroked the gems, putting on a victimized face. “Aria, I know this necklace was supposed to be yours. But I’m the one marrying Julian now, so of course it belongs to me.” Julian nodded righteously. In his head, he was already the guaranteed heir. Letting his fiancée wear the heirloom early was no big deal. “It’s my family’s heirloom. I can let whoever I want wear it. What does it have to do with you?” He sneered, looking me up and down before taking a step back in disgust. “Stop trying to use this to get my attention. I will never love you. Chloe is the only one in my heart.” Julian spoke loudly, drawing several sharp looks from the surrounding guests. “Aria Thorne always acted so high and mighty, but she’s actually trying to steal her sister’s fiancé.” “Those two are soulmates. Why is she still throwing herself at him?” Chloe blushed, playfully hitting Julian’s chest. “Don’t be so mean to Aria. Once she marries in, we’ll all be family. We should help them out.” Julian smirked, pinching Chloe’s cheek affectionately. “Fine, for your sake, I’ll let it slide. But Aria, if you ever try to make a move on me again, don’t blame me for being ruthless.” While they were busy flirting, a cold voice cut in from behind them. “Why on earth would my wife ever make a move on you? Julian, talking to your future sister-in-law like that is incredibly rude.”

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During a car crash three years ago, I shielded my boyfriend, Ethan, and my best friend, Vivian. That crash left me in a vegetative state. Fortunately, they stayed by my side and took care of me. Three years later, I finally woke up. But through my blurry vision, I heard Ethan say: “Chloe, I know you’re in pain. Letting go might be the best thing for you.” I opened my eyes in disbelief. He was actually pulling the oxygen mask off my face. Before I could even make a sound, the door pushed open. My dad walked in. “Ethan, aren’t you and Vivian supposed to get your marriage license at City Hall today? Leave Chloe to me.” I never expected that after fighting through the darkness for three years, surviving on pure willpower, the reward waiting for me would be everyone wanting me dead. “Chloe? You’re… you’re awake?” Ethan’s hand trembled violently as he pulled away from my face. That was when I noticed Vivian and my parents were also in the room. So, they had all agreed to give up on me? After a three-year coma, every inch of my body ached with unspeakable pain. But none of it compared to the agony in my heart right now. I opened my mouth, but my throat was so dry I couldn’t make a sound. Vivian grabbed my hands, her own shaking violently. Then, she let go and slapped herself hard across the face. “Chloe, I’m so sorry.” “Ethan and I… we got together. We thought… we thought you…” Thought I would never wake up, right? “Chloe, don’t blame Vivian. I was the one who fell in love first. I confessed to her.” “She didn’t want to accept it at first. If you want to blame someone, blame me.” Ethan gently touched Vivian’s cheek, his voice filled with protective tenderness. “Enough, Chloe. Can you stop making a scene?” My mom stepped in, shielding the two of them like a protective lioness. “If Ethan and Vivian hadn’t taken care of you these past three years, you’d be dead by now.” “For your sake, one of them went to medical school for neurology, and the other became a physical therapist. I gave them my blessing to be together.” My mom stood in front of them, defensive. But I hadn’t even done anything. I had just opened my eyes. Was that “making a scene”? Tears slipped silently from the corners of my eyes. I never imagined that after fighting so hard in the dark for three years, this was the reality awaiting my return. “Mom, it’s not Chloe’s fault,” Vivian said, stepping out from behind my mother. Her face was wet with tears, and she looked at Ethan with deep reluctance. My breath caught. She called her “Mom” so naturally, as if she had done it thousands of times. In these three years, Ethan had become her fiancé, and my mother had become hers too? “Now that she’s awake, everything should go back to the way it was. I’m sorry, Ethan.” “You should marry Chloe. I’m stepping down.” Her voice was choked and slow. Even I felt a pang of pity listening to her. “No! I don’t agree. Vivian, you’re the one I love now.” Ethan refused instantly. He grabbed Vivian’s wrist, refusing to let go, his eyes turning red. Vivian fell to her knees in front of him. “Please, Ethan. We already owe Chloe too much. If it weren’t for us, she wouldn’t have ended up in a coma.” “Just marry her.” Ethan looked at me, tears in his eyes, as if he were making the most heartbreaking sacrifice of his life. “Fine. I’ll marry her.” They decided everything among themselves. Not a single person asked me what I wanted. My heart felt completely numb. My breathing turned shallow and rapid, and the heart monitor suddenly began to beep frantically. As the medical staff rushed in and wheeled me away, I couldn’t see if they followed. All I knew was that by the time all the tests were done, the waiting area outside was completely empty. The doctor sighed and wheeled me back. Outside my room, just as she was about to open the door, we heard my parents’ voices from inside. “Why did Chloe have to wake up now? The medical bills from these past three years have left us drowned in debt.” “The future rehab costs are going to be astronomical. Honey, I just…” “It’s not your fault.” My dad seemed to be comforting my mom, or maybe himself. After a long silence, he spoke again. “Why couldn’t she have just passed away peacefully? It would have been better for everyone.” The doctor’s hand froze on the doorknob. She looked at me with deep sympathy. A suffocating feeling choked my throat. My chest heaved, but I couldn’t catch my breath. “Is rehab really that expensive?” I whispered. She looked at me gently. “I actually have a slot for an experimental clinical trial for coma recovery. It’s in the UK. The technology is still in its early stages, but it’s completely free. Do you want to go?”

A long time later, the doctor pushed the door open. My parents, faces stained with tears, were still comforting Vivian. “Vivian, dear, we know you have a good heart. But Chloe is in no state to be a proper wife to Ethan anyway.” “I’ll talk to her. You and Ethan should still go get your marriage license.” The sound of the door opening interrupted them. Ethan instinctively walked toward me, but he hesitated when he passed Vivian. Only after she nodded did he take over my wheelchair from the nurse. “Chloe, your parents didn’t mean it that way. Don’t worry, I will still marry you.” His knuckles turned white from gripping the wheelchair. I could tell how much force he was using. “No need…” I started to speak slowly, but Vivian cut me off. She threw herself onto her knees in front of me. She looked just as beautiful as she did three years ago, only more mature and alluring now. Meanwhile, my reflection in the window was skeletal, sallow, and practically dead. “Chloe, I know I ruined everything. You don’t have to reject him. I can really step aside.” “I just want your forgiveness. Please?” “We grew up together. After my parents passed away, you were the one who took care of me. I can’t lose you.” She wept against my knees. I looked up. Ethan was staring at me, his eyes cold and hard. “I said I would marry you. We’ll go back to how things were. Just do it so she doesn’t feel so guilty. Just…” “I don’t forgive you,” I said, cutting Ethan off. Vivian’s crying stopped instantly. One of her hands instinctively rested on her stomach. “I understand.” Before we could process what that gesture meant, Vivian turned and ran out of the room. Ethan’s face darkened. He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Chloe! Vivian literally got down on her knees to beg for your forgiveness! What more do you want?” “She gave up her own dreams to study physical therapy just to take care of you these past three years.” “Yes, we fell in love. But she’s willing to step aside, and I’m willing to marry you. When are you going to stop throwing this tantrum!” I looked at his familiar face. It was still handsome. To them, these three years were a painful, agonizing trial. But to me, it felt like I had just taken a long nap. I woke up to find my best friend and my boyfriend together. How was I supposed to just forgive that? My jaw burned from his grip. Ethan seemed to realize what he was doing and let go, his voice cracking. “Chloe, I wish I was the one in that wheelchair right now.” “Anything would be better than being tortured by you like this.” My body couldn’t stop shaking. I felt like a criminal, standing trial under the accusations of Ethan and my parents. The interrogation only stopped when Ethan’s phone buzzed with a Snapchat notification. He glanced at his phone, and his grip suddenly tightened around my wrist. “Chloe! Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Vivian just went to get an abortion!” “Now my baby is gone. Are you happy now?” My eyes widened in disbelief. They even had a baby? It had only been three years. They weren’t just getting a marriage license; they were sleeping together. Yet, they showed absolutely no remorse in front of me. A sudden wave of nausea hit me. I felt like throwing up, but neither of them noticed. “Chloe, if you keep acting like this, I don’t think I can bring myself to marry you anymore.” With that, Ethan rushed out with my frantic parents to find Vivian, leaving me completely alone in the cold room. They had abandoned me. Again. I wiggled my fingers, looked at the nurse who came in for rounds, and whispered: “Please tell Dr. Carter. I want to go to that clinical trial in the UK.” “The sooner, the better.”

By the time they brought Vivian back, Dr. Carter had already given me the exact date. I was leaving in a month. Vivian’s face was paper-white, with tear tracks drying on her cheeks. Ethan claimed that Vivian’s body was too weak after the abortion, so he put her in my comfortable private room bed, moving me to the stiff, uncomfortable pull-out cot beside it. My body was already aching all over, and after the bed swap, I couldn’t sleep at all, night after night. They were too busy fussing over Vivian to care about me, even letting a male orderly give me my sponge baths. “Mom, please… can you ask for a female nurse?” Losing my privacy made me forget my pride. I cried and begged my mother, but she remained silent, carefully feeding Vivian chicken soup spoonful by spoonful. Ethan looked at me with a cold, detached expression. “To medical professionals, gender doesn’t matter.” “Besides, look at yourself. Do you really think anyone is looking at you like that?” My body froze. I couldn’t say another word. After the orderly left, I took my cracked, old phone from before the accident and tried to follow physical therapy videos. The shattered screen often sliced my fingertips. Without professional safety gear, my body was quickly covered in dark bruises from falling. “Chloe, are you really that desperate to marry me?” Ethan sneered as he tucked Vivian back into bed, turning to mock me. “Vivian already told me your self-rehab routine is completely wrong. Stop hurting yourself just to make us feel guilty. It’s pathetic.” Vivian always offered “advice” whenever I practiced, but her words did nothing but ruin my rhythm. I paused my movements and spoke softly. “Ethan, I told you. I have no intention of marrying you. I just want my dignity back.” “That’s all.” At first, he had felt a sliver of guilt toward me. But every time he instinctively tried to help, Vivian would look at him with such devastating heartbreak, threatening to discharge herself or move rooms. So now, all he felt for me was pure annoyance. “Vivian is discharged today. You’re coming home too.” “You can take your time with rehab. Start thinking about your parents for once.” He looked down, carefully helping Vivian put on her coat and shoes. I silently wrapped my cardigan around myself, letting the cold draft of the AC make my stiff joints throb. After a bumpy ride, we finally arrived home. My mom opened the door, her face lighting up when she saw Vivian and Ethan. But when she looked down at me, a flash of disgust crossed her eyes. “You both went through medical issues. Why do you look so filthy and neglected?” Isn’t the answer obvious? Vivian was pampered and taken care of, while I, a newly awakened coma patient, was forced to fend for myself. Maybe out of a lingering speck of guilt, Ethan spoke up quietly. “Don’t blame Chloe, Mrs. Bennett. Let’s get inside. Vivian is still weak.” Hearing that Vivian was weak, my mom immediately ushered her in, handing her a warm cup of ginger tea. I looked around the apartment, feeling completely disoriented. The wall where my academic certificates used to hang was now covered with Vivian and Ethan’s engagement photos. My carefully nurtured plants on the balcony had been replaced by wedding decorations. The fruit bowl on the table was filled with Vivian’s favorites, and even my old bedroom was cluttered with her things. This was no longer my home. I completely gave up. My home, my boyfriend, my parents—they all belonged to Vivian now. “Ethan, I can forgive Vivian. I can forgive you too.” “But I have one last request. I want you two to take me to the amusement park we were supposed to visit before the crash.” I had two days left before my flight to the UK. This was my final wish.

Under Vivian’s persuasion, we set off for the amusement park early the next morning. In the car, I stared out the window. Three years ago, on a sunny day just like this, we were driving to the park when a drunk driver swerved into our lane. To keep them from getting hit, I had steered hard to the right. Before I lost consciousness, Ethan and Vivian had risked their lives to drag me out of the burning car. Back then, Ethan had sobbed, “Chloe, I’ll do whatever it takes to save you. Please, don’t leave me.” But somewhere along the way, he had taken a detour. We arrived at the park. Ethan pushed my wheelchair in silence. Perhaps he was remembering that day too. I pulled up the itinerary I had made three years ago. “Let’s just follow this.” Though I couldn’t go on most of the rides, the classic photo spots were still there. I wrote on a wooden wishing plaque: [I wish for Chloe’s complete recovery and health.] It took me almost ten minutes just to scribble those few words with my shaky hands. “This stuff is fake anyway. Aren’t you asking for too much?” Ethan snatched it away impatiently, but he froze when he read the words. He hung it on the tree in silence. “That boyfriend is so dedicated. His girlfriend is sick, and he still brought her out to have fun.” Passersby whispered. Hearing this, Vivian’s eyes instantly welled with tears. Ethan immediately forgot about me and turned all his attention to comforting her. They didn’t notice when my eyes fell on a dangling plaque nearby. The handwriting belonged to Vivian: [Chloe, we came to the amusement park for you. Please bless Ethan and Vivian so we can be together forever.] A sharp pain pierced my heart. So, I was the only one who hadn’t actually been to this park. This trip for three had always been my own lonely solo show. I took out a pen and quietly scribbled a few words on the back of their plaque. The next few spots were strictly for couples. Without me saying a word, Ethan naturally bypassed them. I lost all interest. The place I had sacrificed so much to visit was actually so incredibly boring. Finally, we reached the last stop. It was a couple’s photo booth. Just as Ethan was about to walk past, a staff member came over holding a printed photo. “Mr. Hayes! Happy wedding! “You mentioned last time that you were marrying Miss Miller soon. Here’s a little wedding gift from me.” Ethan awkwardly took the photo. The smiles on their faces in the picture were blinding. They were so familiar with the staff. Who knew how many times they had been here without me? I let out a bitter laugh. “Let’s go. I want to go home.” “Chloe, that’s enough!” Vivian snatched the photo and ripped it to shreds. “I know you just want to make me feel guilty! Yes, Ethan and I came here before. I was wrong! I’m a terrible person, okay?” “But you had been in a coma for two years! Everyone said you were never waking up!” “I already agreed to back out. Why won’t you just let us go?” She cried hysterically, looking as if she might faint. Ethan immediately wrapped his arms around her, turning to yell at me. “So this was your plan all along? You knew we had been here, and you dragged us back just to guilt-trip me into marrying you faster?” “Chloe, I never realized you could be so manipulative and cruel.” “I honestly regret saving you. Why couldn’t you have just died in that hospital?” My heart seized violently. A wave of agonizing physical pain shot through my limbs. But he had already carried Vivian away, leaving me entirely alone in the crowd. Tears streamed down my face. I pulled out my phone and dialed Dr. Carter’s number. “Please send me to the UK.”

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I was a billionaire heiress of the Vance family in New York. Ten years ago, against all objections, I married Carter Miller, a penniless estate security guard. After our wedding, he treated me like a queen. He even carried warm water to the bedside every night just to wash my feet. The Manhattan socialites who used to mock me for being blind ended up burning with jealousy, wishing they had married such a perfect man. Unfortunately, my health was always fragile, and I died of illness at the age of thirty. After my death, my soul couldn’t bear to leave him, so I hovered by his side. But I never expected what would happen the very next day after my funeral! My “perfect” husband, who had been crying his eyes out by my deathbed, couldn’t wait to marry four women at once! Only then did I realize that his ten years of pampering me were nothing but a patient act to steal my family’s fortune. Even my declining health was all thanks to the “healthy herbal tonic” he served me every single night! Watching them divide my billions in front of my funeral portrait, a surge of pure rage hit my soul. I gasped, and my eyes snapped open. I was alive again!

With trembling hands, I grabbed the phone from the nightstand and lit up the screen. The date displayed on the screen was—ten years ago! I had traveled back in time! I was back to the days before I married that trash, Carter Miller! Just then, there was a knock on the bedroom door. Maria, our housekeeper, called out from outside: “Miss Serena, are you awake? Mr. Miller is downstairs. He’s causing quite a scene, saying he needs to see you urgently.” Mr. Miller? Carter Miller! The warmth in my eyes vanished instantly. “I got it. Tell him to wait.” I turned around, walked into my walk-in closet, and leisurely picked out a silk slip dress. Then, I spent my time applying a cold, sharp makeup look. After dragging my feet for over an hour, I finally stepped into my heels and walked out of the bedroom. Descending the spiral staircase, I saw Carter sitting on the velvet sofa. Hearing the click of my heels, Carter looked up abruptly. When he saw me coming down, a flash of awe crossed his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by impatience. “What took you so long?!” Carter stood up, complaining to me with zero respect. “I’ve been waiting for you for over an hour, Serena!” Hearing his whining tone made me want to throw up. In my past life, he had used this exact persona—”I may be poor, but I don’t care about your money, and I’m not afraid of you”—to make me fall head over heels for him. I didn’t run up to hug him like I used to. Instead, I crossed my arms and looked down at him coldly. “What do you want?” Carter choked on my icy attitude. His arrogant demeanor weakened a bit, but he quickly put on a show of having his pride wounded. “Serena, did you pay my mother’s $300,000 hospital bill behind my back?!” Carter looked as if he had suffered a great humiliation. “How many times do I have to tell you? I will earn the money to treat my mother myself! I don’t need your charity!” Watching his righteous performance, I sneered inwardly. In my past life, when I heard this, I would immediately apologize to him, telling him I only did it because it broke my heart to see him working three part-time jobs after his guard shifts. To protect his fragile, ridiculous ego, I had even secretly upgraded his mother to the best VIP suite under his name. And what did he do? He enjoyed everything my money bought while playing the victim of my “wealthy arrogance.” What a natural-born actor. “Oh? Really?” I glanced at him coldly, a mocking smirk playing on my lips. “In that case, fine. I’ll call my assistant in a minute and tell him to claw back that $300,000 from the hospital.” The moment those words left my mouth, the fake anger on Carter’s face froze. He never expected me to play along! Carter panicked, but he quickly forced himself to stay calm and yelled at me. “Serena! What do you take me for?!” He looked like he was about to burst with rage. “Do you think you can do whatever you want to me just because you have money?! I won’t buy into your rich-girl games!” Looking at his hypocritical face, I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “What are you laughing at?!” Carter’s face flushed bright red, stung by my laughter.

Right then, my phone buzzed inside my bag. It was my dad. I raised my hand and gestured for Carter to shut up. Carter gritted his teeth, forcing himself to swallow his words. From the other end of the line, my father’s helpless voice came through: “Serena, I know you’ve been close with that security guard lately. But you two belong to different worlds. He can’t give you a good life. Stop being so stubborn. I’ve arranged a match for you. He’s Julian Sterling, the heir of the Sterling family. He’s handsome and highly respected. Just listen to me, meet him, and see how it goes, okay?” In my past life, when I heard this, I had a massive fight with my dad. I had screamed that I would marry no one but Carter, even threatening to starve myself, breaking my dad’s heart. But in this life… I looked at the ungrateful man in front of me with a half-smile. “An arranged match? Sure, Dad. Send me the address. I’ll be there on time this afternoon.” Hearing me agree so easily, my dad was thrilled. He quickly said some sweet words and sent the address to my phone. After I hung up, Carter stared at me, his face turning pale and green. “Serena, have you had enough of this drama?” “Do you think going on a date with some random guy will make me jealous? You don’t have to play hard to get just to get my attention!” “Carter!” I snapped. “You’ve been thinking way too highly of yourself lately. Remember your place.” “You!” Carter gritted his teeth. “Fine! Don’t regret this!” He threw a tantrum, turned around, and stormed out of my house. Watching his back, I smiled with pure disdain. Regret? The only thing I regretted was being blind enough to love a piece of trash like you in my past life! That afternoon, I arrived at the high-end cafe my dad had texted me. In my past life, due to Carter’s brainwashing, I absolutely despised business marriages. I hadn’t even given the Sterling heir a single glance. But this time, when I walked into the reserved lounge and saw the man sitting there, I couldn’t help but praise my dad’s taste. He wore a perfectly tailored dark Italian suit. He was stunning. “Miss Vance, nice to meet you. I’m Julian Sterling.” He stood up, politely offering his hand. His voice was deep and magnetic. “Mr. Sterling, the pleasure is mine.” I smiled and shook his hand. The date was surprisingly pleasant. Julian was not only incredibly handsome, but he was also elegant, polite, and brilliant. We talked about everything from venture capital to art collection. We clicked perfectly. Over the next few days, Julian asked me out for various reasons. We went to concerts, visited art galleries, and even went horseback riding at a private club. I hadn’t thought about the disgusting name “Carter” for days. Until one evening. After a dinner at a Michelin-star restaurant, Julian gentlemanly drove me home. “It’s still early. Would you like to come in for some tea?” I stood at the door, smiling as I invited him. “I’d love to.” Julian smiled back, his beautiful eyes sparkling with warmth. I scanned my fingerprint to unlock the door, pushed it open, and was about to invite him in. But as soon as I looked up, I saw Carter sitting comfortably on my living room sofa! Seeing me bring another man home, Carter’s face turned incredibly dark. He looked at me, his tone accusing: “Serena, it’s so late. Why are you bringing another man home?” I frowned, feeling sickened by his tone. “Carter, watch your tongue. I am your employer.” Being scolded in front of an outsider, Carter’s face flushed bright red instantly. “What are you standing there for?” I ordered him around like any other servant. “Go to the kitchen and brew some black tea for Mr. Sterling.” Hearing my words, the resentment in Carter’s eyes almost spilled over. But forced by my status, he could only turn and walk toward the kitchen with reluctance. “Mr. Sterling, please have a seat. I’ll go change into something more comfortable.” I turned to Julian and smiled. “Sure.” Julian nodded, giving me a deep, knowing look. I went upstairs and changed into a set of cozy loungewear.

Just as I reached the turn of the stairs on my way down, a loud crash echoed from the living room, followed by Carter’s painful scream! I rushed downstairs. I saw Carter clutching his left hand, crouching by the coffee table in pain. Meanwhile, Julian stood nearby, looking completely calm. “What happened?” I walked over, frowning. “Serena! He pushed me!” Seeing me come down, Carter immediately started playing the victim. “I was just trying to serve him tea, but he was jealous that I get to be close to you. He deliberately threw the boiling tea at me!” Julian met my gaze, his voice steady: “Miss Vance, I didn’t push him. He tripped.” I looked down at Carter’s hand. The so-called “burn” was barely the size of a fingernail. It didn’t even blister. Looking at Carter’s pathetic act, I let out a cold laugh. “Cut the drama, Carter.” “It’s just a tiny red spot. Why are you whining like a child? Just put a band-aid on it.” Hearing me side with an outsider, Carter couldn’t hold back his anger anymore. “Serena Vance!” Ignoring his rage, I turned to Julian with an apologetic smile. “Mr. Sterling, I’m so sorry. My servant doesn’t know his manners. I apologize for the scene. It’s getting late, so why don’t you head home and get some rest? Let’s hang out another day.” Julian glanced at the shaking, furious Carter, and a faint smirk appeared on his face. “Alright. Rest well, Serena. Goodnight.” After Julian left, only Carter and I remained in the living room. Carter stared at me with red eyes, his voice filled with disbelief and hurt: “Serena… I feel like you’ve changed.” Looking at his hurt expression, I felt absolutely nothing. “Have I?” With that, I didn’t even look at him again. I turned around and walked upstairs. Over the next few days, he didn’t dare to act high and dry in front of me anymore. Instead, he started clinging to me like cheap gum, trying desperately to show his worth. Every morning, before I even woke up, he would prepare breakfast. When I left for work, he would open the car door for me. He even learned a few clumsy French pick-up lines to please me. Faced with his groveling behavior, I wasn’t touched, nor did I kick him out. I simply enjoyed his service guilt-free. Occasionally, I would answer Julian’s calls right in front of him, or dress up beautifully to go on romantic dates with Julian. Every time this happened, Carter would lower himself even more, trying to win me back. I knew he was terrified. He was terrified of losing me—his ticket to a life of luxury. He was terrified that his dream of marrying into wealth would shatter. And when a person is consumed by fear and anxiety, they easily make mistakes. I was quietly waiting for the day he would show his true, ugly colors. Finally, the opportunity came. These days, my company was preparing for a massive international merger. I worked late for several nights in a row, coming home past midnight. Tonight, I was sitting in my study, double-checking the final financial reports on my computer. There was a soft knock on the door, and Carter walked in carrying a tray. “Serena, still working?” Carter walked over and set the tray down. On the tray was a bowl of dark, pungent medicinal herbal tea. “I saw how tired you’ve been lately. You look pale. I brewed this special organic herbal tea for you.” Carter looked at me, his eyes filled with warmth and care. “Drink it while it’s hot, then get some sleep.” Smelling that familiar, slightly bitter scent, my hand holding the pen froze. In my past life, he had looked at me with this exact loving expression, serving me this toxic tea every single night. I had drunk it for ten years until my body completely fell apart, and I died in agony. I took a deep breath, suppressing the urge to kill him right then and there. I picked up the bowl, slowly bringing it to my lips. Carter stood by, his eyes shining with a hidden, desperate anticipation. Just as the rim of the bowl was about to touch my lips… I stopped. I slowly lowered the bowl and pushed it right in front of Carter. “Serena? What’s wrong?” Carter was stunned. I leaned back in my chair, staring at him. “I just remembered a rule in the Vance family.” “What rule?” Carter asked, confused. “Any untried food must be tasted by a servant first.” “You drink it.” The moment I said this, Carter’s face turned pale. “Serena… what… what do you mean by that?” He looked at me in disbelief. “Are you doubting me? Do you think I’d poison you?!” His eyes turned red instantly, and he cried out in hurt: “I might be poor, but my love for you is pure! How can you treat me like some shady criminal?!” I said nothing. Seeing my cold face, Carter gritted his teeth. “Fine! If you don’t trust me, I’ll show you!” He grabbed the bowl, tilted his head, and gulped down the dark tea in seconds! Then, he slammed the empty bowl back onto the tray. “Are you satisfied now?!” He stormed out of the study. I sneered. So what if he drank it? It was a slow, chronic poison. Drinking it once or twice wouldn’t do any harm. Once he left, I opened a hidden folder on my computer and pulled up the mansion’s security cameras. My dad had installed these tiny, discreet cameras for my safety when the estate was built. Carter knew nothing about them. On the screen, Carter hadn’t left the mansion. He walked downstairs, made sure no one was around, and slipped into the first-floor utility room. On the camera, all the warmth on Carter’s face was replaced by a deadly chill. He pulled out his phone and dialed a number. As soon as the call connected, he whispered angrily: “The plan has to change! That bitch Serena suspects something’s wrong with the tea!” Though his voice was low, the high-definition mic in the utility room picked up every single word. The person on the other end said something, making Carter’s expression look even more vicious. “I know! We can’t wait anymore. We need a faster method. Just make sure everything on your end is ready.” Hanging up, Carter paced around the room for a bit before walking out as if nothing had happened. I knew he was finally panicking and getting desperate.

I dialed a private investigator’s number. I ordered them to dig up everything on Carter. At the next high-profile charity gala, I made sure to arrive arm-in-arm with Julian. When reporters asked about our relationship, I leaned against Julian’s shoulder and announced with a smile: “I’ve accepted Mr. Sterling’s proposal. The date of our engagement party will be announced soon.” Julian was slightly surprised, but he played along perfectly, planting a tender kiss on my forehead. Not only that, but I also paid off several major New York gossip outlets. The next morning, the headlines flooded the city. #Heiress Serena Vance to Marry Sterling Heir! Poor Guard’s Billionaire Dream Shattered!# #A Guard Trying to Climb the Social Ladder? Serena Vance Announces Engagement, Making Carter Miller the Laughingstock of NYC!# I expected Carter to confront me after such humiliation. But to my surprise, he held it in. He still showed up at my house every day, acting even more submissive and attentive. It was as if he could swallow any insult just to stay by my side. His behavior only made me more alert. A silent dog bites the hardest. Three days later, the private investigator sent me the report. The file showed that over the past week, Carter had been meeting with Leo, our family’s private chauffeur. Leo’s son had piled up massive gambling debts and was being chased by dangerous loan sharks. Carter had offered Leo five million dollars to cut the brakes of my red Porsche and stage an accident! Once I died, Carter would use a forged will to claim my entire estate. But what shocked me the most was the last page of the report. The PI found out that the person pulling the strings behind Carter was actually someone inside my own family! However, the mastermind was extremely cautious, and the PI couldn’t pin down their exact identity yet. Cold sweat soaked my back as I read the report. It turned out that the person who wanted me dead wasn’t just Carter, but also a “dear relative” of mine! I forced myself to calm down. Since I couldn’t find the mastermind, I had to lure them out. Leaning back in my chair, a brilliant plan took shape in my mind. Since they wanted me dead so badly… Fine. I would give them exactly what they wanted and “die” once!

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After our college reunion, I ended up drunk and slept with my ex-boyfriend. Overwhelmed with guilt and feeling like I had utterly failed my husband, I decided to confess everything. I was ready to face whatever consequences my betrayal would bring. But when I got home, my husband wasn’t there. His laptop was still logged into his Instagram, and a message suddenly popped up on the screen. [That drug was incredibly strong. Chloe had absolutely no idea what was happening. She’s already left the hotel looking completely devastated. Just wait for her to ask for a divorce.] The message was from my ex, Tyler. My husband’s reply came almost instantly: [Once Chloe signs the divorce papers and walks away with nothing, your five hundred thousand dollars will be wired immediately. Not a penny less.] 1 Before I could even process what I was looking at, Marcus’s account logged out. My hands shook as I slammed the laptop shut. Staring at the black screen, I forced a pathetic smile. “I must be seeing things. Marcus loves me so much, he would never…” The words died in my throat. My chest tightened with a sharp, suffocating pain, and tears began to pour down my face. I covered my face with my hands and sobbed uncontrollably. I hadn’t even wanted to go to that college reunion last night. But Marcus had insisted. “The company is expanding right now, Chloe. You should go. Who knows? You might run into some potential clients.” Ever since I stepped back from the business to focus on starting a family, I had left the daily operations of the company my parents left me in Marcus’s hands. I thought he was just under a lot of pressure, so I agreed. At the dinner, I ran into my ex, Tyler. Our old classmates started teasing us, forcing us to sit next to each other. Since we had broken up ten years ago and I was happily married, I didn’t think much of it and sat down. Throughout the dinner, Tyler kept his distance and behaved like a perfect gentleman, only pouring my drinks and passing the food. But after a few drinks, my head started spinning, and I completely blacked out. When I woke up the next morning, Tyler and I were lying naked in a hotel bed. The soreness and aching in my body told me exactly what had happened. Tyler had looked utterly devastated, slapping himself across the face, begging for my forgiveness, and crying. I had scrambled into my clothes and fled the hotel in a panic. I felt so guilty. I didn’t want to lie to Marcus. A mistake was a mistake. I was prepared to confess and accept the consequences of my betrayal. But I never could have imagined that this was all Marcus’s sick, twisted trap! Now that I knew the truth, I wasn’t going to let them get away with this. I wiped my tears, picked up my phone with trembling hands, and dialed 91

“I want to report an assault. I was drugged and raped.” After a grueling medical examination at the hospital, a female detective escorted me back to my house. “Once the toxicology report comes back and we secure the evidence chain, we will move in to arrest the suspects,” she assured me. “Thank you,” I whispered. 2 I dragged my exhausted body into the house. Marcus immediately rushed over. “Babe! Where have you been? I was so worried!” Looking at his deeply concerned face, my heart went cold. I stared straight into his eyes. “I didn’t come home all night. Aren’t you going to ask me where I was?” Marcus smiled warmly, pulling me into a hug. “I called you last night, but Ashley answered. She said you had too much to drink and were sleeping it off at her place. “I remembered you guys were close in college, so I didn’t want to disturb you.” Ashley had indeed been at the reunion. But we sat on opposite sides of the room. We barely said two words to each other, let alone caught up. How did she get dragged into this? Marcus, Tyler, Ashley… what was their connection? My mind was spinning, and a sudden wave of nausea hit me. I rushed to the bathroom and threw up into the toilet. Marcus gently patted my back. “Look at you, drinking yourself sick. You know how much it hurts me to see you like this.” He handed me a glass of warm water. As I reached for it, our fingers brushed. For a split second, I caught a flash of pure disgust in his eyes. My heart sank into a dark, frozen abyss. After washing up, I went to lie down in the bedroom. Marcus followed me in, casually bringing up the topic. “Babe, you seem really off today. Did something happen last night?” I kept quiet. He continued, “You know, the most important things in a marriage are loyalty and trust. I trust you one hundred percent, so don’t carry any unnecessary burdens, okay?” I closed my eyes, letting out a silent, bitter laugh. Marcus really knew me too well. He knew that the more “understanding” he acted, the more eaten up by guilt I would be. If I hadn’t seen those messages, I would have broken down, confessed everything, and willingly signed away all my assets just to free myself from the guilt. Seeing that I remained silent, Marcus pulled the blanket over my shoulders. “Get some rest then. We can talk later.” I woke up very late the next morning. Marcus had already left for the office. On the nightstand was a glass of water and a single white pill. It was the prenatal vitamin he had been giving me every day for the past three years. We had been trying for a baby for three years with no luck. All my medical checks came back normal, yet I could never get pregnant. I used to blame myself constantly, feeling like I was failing him. But now, I realized it might not have been my fault at all. I slipped the pill back into the bottle, grabbed my keys, and drove straight to a private clinic. The doctor took one look at the pill and sighed. “This is a high-dosage contraceptive. It has to be taken daily to prevent pregnancy.” Of course it was. I let out a hollow laugh, feeling as though a bucket of ice water had been dumped over my head. I went home, changed into a sharp business suit I hadn’t worn in years, put on some light makeup, and drove to the office. Since I hadn’t stepped foot in the company in three years, the receptionist blocked my way at the front desk. “Excuse me, ma’am, do you have an appointment? Who are you here to see?” I frowned. “I don’t need an appointment to enter my own company.” I started walking past her. The receptionist quickly ran ahead and blocked me. “I’m sorry, but you can’t just walk in. Tell me who you’re looking for, and I’ll page them.” I took a deep breath. “I’m here to see Marcus Vance.” She smiled politely. “Mr. Vance is only available by appointment. No exceptions.” I chuckled, amused by the sheer audacity. “Look at me carefully. I am the sole owner and legal representative of Flora Corp. Marcus is merely managing it in my absence. Do they not teach you who actually owns the company when you get hired?” The receptionist stared at me in confusion. “You must be mistaken. Mr. Vance is the only boss we know.” Wow, Marcus. He had truly gone out of his way to erase my existence from my own company. As I was trying to figure out how to handle this, an older employee walked past, recognized me, and immediately gasped. “What are you doing? Open your eyes! This is Ms. Sterling, the actual owner of the company!” The receptionist went pale and immediately stepped aside, stammering apologies. I looked at the older employee. “Thank you. But from now on, please address me as Director Sterling.” The employee blinked in surprise, then quickly nodded. “Of course, Director Sterling!” I walked straight to the CEO’s office. But when I pushed the door open, a very familiar face was sitting at the desk. 3 “Ashley?” “Chloe!” Ashley stood up, looking entirely unbothered. I frowned. “What are you doing here? Where is Marcus?” Ashley smirked. “Mr. Vance is out at a meeting. I am his executive assistant now. Didn’t he tell you?” Seeing the subtle malice and triumph in her eyes, I immediately understood what was going on. No wonder Ashley had helped Marcus set me up. But I wasn’t here today to catch them in an affair. I said calmly, “Ms. Brooks, page all department heads. We are having an emergency board meeting in ten minutes.” Ashley froze, then burst into a condescending laugh. “Chloe, have you lost your mind? Sure, you might be the boss’s wife, but Marcus runs this place. And…” She paused, looking me up and down with a nasty sneer. “With the way things are going, I highly doubt you’ll be the boss’s wife for much longer.” I stepped closer, narrowing my eyes. “Two nights ago, you told Marcus I was sleeping at your place.” Ashley raised an eyebrow. “You should be thanking me. I gave you and Tyler a chance to relight your old flame. “But you know, secrets always get out. If I were you, I’d confess to Marcus as soon as possible. It might make the divorce less messy.” I scoffed. “My marriage is none of your business. I will ask you one more time. Are you going to page the department heads, or not?” Ashley rolled her eyes. “Sorry. I only take orders from Mr. Vance.” With that, she turned on her high heels and strutted out of the room. I didn’t waste any more time. I picked up the desk phone and dialed HR. The HR manager, Mr. Henderson, was a new hire. He sounded hesitant when he spoke to me. “Mrs. Vance, holding a meeting without Mr. Vance’s approval… I don’t think that’s appropriate.” Without saying a word, I walked over to the safe, pulled out the original incorporation documents and the business license, and held them up. “Look at the name on these papers. Chloe Sterling. “This company has belonged to me and my family from day one. Marcus Vance was only a temporary manager.” Mr. Henderson’s tone changed instantly. “Director Sterling!” I let out a breath. “Get everyone in the conference room. Starting today, I am taking back full control of Flora Corp. “Also, Ms. Brooks just informed me she only takes orders from Marcus. Draft her termination papers immediately. She’s fired.” “Understood, Director Sterling!” An hour later, I was sitting at the head of the conference room table. Marcus had replaced a lot of the staff, but there were still several veteran managers who recognized me. When I announced my return to active management, the room went silent. The expressions on their faces ranged from surprise to deep concern. I looked around the room. “There is one more thing. I believe some of you know my maiden name is Sterling. My grandmother is Eleanor Sterling, the chairwoman of Sterling Enterprises.” The moment the words left my mouth, the room erupted into whispers. “No wonder Sterling Enterprises asked about her when we tried to pitch to them last year!” “If we partner with the Sterling Group, our company will scale to heights we never dreamed of!” “We fully support you, Director Sterling!” My grandmother indeed ran the massive Sterling Enterprises. But years ago, my father had cut ties with her to marry my mother. Under the current circumstances, however, using my grandmother’s name was the only way to quickly secure the loyalty of these managers. Before I could continue, the heavy conference doors were slammed open. Ashley marched in, her face red with rage. “Chloe Sterling! How dare you fire me while Marcus is out! “Just wait. I’ve already called Marcus and told him what you’re doing. He’s on his way here right now. Let’s see how you explain this to him!” Before I could even speak, Mr. Henderson, the HR manager, stood up. “Ashley, you have been officially terminated. Please leave the premises immediately, or security will escort you out.” Ashley stared at him, dumbfounded. “Are you insane, Mr. Henderson? You’re taking orders from her? She has no authority to fire me!” Mr. Henderson’s face was cold. “She is the sole owner and CEO of this company. She has every right.” Ashley let out a hysterical laugh. “Are you kidding me? I’ve been here for two years! I know who the boss is! Don’t let this housewife trick you!” The admin manager picked up the phone. “Security, please come to the main conference room. We have a terminated employee causing a disturbance.” Within seconds, two security guards walked in, grabbed Ashley by her arms, and began dragging her out. Ashley struggled wildly, gripping the doorframe and screaming, “Chloe, you bitch! Just wait until Marcus gets back! He’s going to ruin you!” Other employees in the hallway began to gather around, whispering and watching the drama unfold. Just as I was about to call the police to have her removed for trespassing, Marcus’s voice boomed down the hallway. “What is going on here? Get back to work, all of you!” The crowd quickly dispersed, and the managers in the conference room stood up. Ashley immediately burst into tears, throwing herself into Marcus’s arms. “Marcus! Thank God you’re here! Your wife came in and fired me out of nowhere! She’s accusing us of having an affair! How could she humiliate us like this?” Marcus’s face darkened as he walked into the room. When he saw me sitting calmly at the head of the table, he froze. “Chloe? What are you doing in that chair?”

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