Category: English

1 It was the first day of the SATs, and Amy, my girlfriend, was holding the entire class hostage, refusing to let anyone leave for the testing center. They were all waiting for Brandon, her childhood friend, who was still nowhere to be found. Less than an hour remained before the exam was set to begin. If we dallied any longer, everyone would undoubtedly miss the test. In my past life, as the class president, I’d tried to be helpful. I’d urged everyone to head out, to save their futures. Instead, I was met with a tidal wave of accusations: “You’re just jealous of Brandon and Amy’s closeness, that’s why you’re trying to ditch him and make him miss the exam!” It was pouring rain that day, and I’d pleaded with them for ten agonizing minutes before they reluctantly agreed to move. We’d ended up bursting into the exam hall in the very last second. After the SATs, Brandon had pushed me from a high point, leaving me battered and broken. And Amy? She and the entire class had stood before the police, swearing to a lie: “Elliot Carter felt so guilty about Brandon missing the SATs that he took his own life!” Brandon, riding a wave of manufactured sympathy, had transformed himself into a massive online personality. My mom, trying to fight for justice, was cyberbullied relentlessly by a clueless mob of netizens. Dazed and distraught, she’d driven off a treacherous mountain road, her life tragically ended. Only after my death did I realize it was all Brandon’s calculated plot. Now, I’m back. Reborn to that very day when Amy was leading the class in waiting for Brandon. This time, I swore, I wouldn’t interfere. Let these ungrateful fools dig their own graves! The chilling sting of rain on my face jolted me from a haze of memory. I found myself standing on the school’s sprawling track. My gaze fixed on Amy, who was currently locked in a heated argument with the school bus driver. A familiar ripple of unease stirred within me. Suddenly, Amy’s eyes blazed, snapping directly to mine. “Elliot Carter, you are utterly selfish! Brandon isn’t here yet. What’s two more minutes?” The rest of the class echoed her fury, their faces contorted with indignation. “Yeah, Brandon’s our friend! How can we just leave him behind?” “If B-man isn’t here, none of us are getting on that bus today!” Their hostile glares pierced me, twisting a raw pain in my chest. In my previous life, I’d worried that waiting would make them miss the exam, so I’d begged the driver to leave. I’d considered their future, and they’d treated me like the enemy. Amy pushed through the crowd, stopping in front of me. Her face contorted with disgust. “Elliot, even if you are my boyfriend, I have to say, this is too much! This is the SATs! Making him miss one section is basically ruining his life!” I clenched my fists, biting down hard on my lip until I tasted blood, watching the sheer loathing in her eyes. It was as if she wished me dead. Finally, I managed to smooth my expression. “Fine. If you all want to gamble your futures on Brandon, then keep waiting. It’s coming down hard out here. I’m getting on the bus.” I ignored their glares, the kind that promised to tear me limb from limb, and walked directly onto the school-provided exam shuttle. The driver looked at me, a worried frown etched on his face. “With my years of experience, a rain this heavy, if we wait any longer, something’s bound to go wrong!” Amy’s cold laugh cut him off. “Don’t be dramatic. I take that road to the testing center all the time. There’s no way it’ll be an issue!” The driver sighed, slumping back into his seat. My classmates, meanwhile, cheered and celebrated in the rain as if they’d just won a major victory. But what they didn’t know was that I’d already secured guaranteed admission to a top-tier university two months ago. Whether I made it to the SATs on time or not was irrelevant to my future. I’d only chosen to join them to experience the atmosphere. I wondered, though, if they’d still be smiling an hour from now, without the luxury of early admission. My eyes stung, and my hand trembled as I dialed my mom’s number. Memories of my past life flashed before me: being thrown from that height, my mom’s car plunging off a cliff, her life tragically ended. Tears streamed down my face. This time, I would make these ungrateful fools pay for their terrible choices! I’d make them realize just how incredibly foolish their actions were! Time ticked by, agonizingly slow. Fifteen minutes later, Brandon finally arrived, breathless, clutching his backpack. It was only a five-minute walk from the boys’ dorm to the track, but he’d managed to conjure up a performance of utter exhaustion. Though a flicker of surprise crossed his face at finding everyone still there, it quickly vanished, replaced by a wide grin. “I knew it! I knew you guys wouldn’t abandon me!” As my classmates watched him with eager eyes, he shot me a venomous glare. Amy looked at Brandon, her gaze softening. “Brandon, don’t worry! We’ll always wait for you, no matter what!” Then, my phone buzzed. A news alert popped up, and a faint smile touched my lips. Breaking News: Due to overnight heavy rain, the road from the school to the testing center is completely flooded! 2 In my last life, it was precisely because I discovered the road was severely flooded that I had so desperately pleaded with everyone to leave on time. Even then, we’d barely made it, rushing into the exam hall just in the nick of time. Now, without my warning, they were departing a full five minutes later. For them to make it to the SATs smoothly, it would take a miracle. Once we were on the bus, Brandon, feigning remorse, offered me a lollipop. “Class President, I’m so sorry! It’s all my fault! I just thought everyone might be nervous about the exam, so I took it upon myself to buy lollipops for everyone before we left.” Before I could even open my mouth, Amy snatched the lollipop away. She wrapped her arms around Brandon, consoling him, “Brandon, you didn’t do anything wrong, why are you apologizing? Selfish people like him don’t deserve anything you buy!” The rest of the class chimed in, echoing her sentiments: “Yeah, Brandon, don’t blame yourself. We all chose to wait for you.” “Just a few minutes delay, no big deal. You’re always thinking of us, and we’ll remember your kindness forever! We’re not cold-hearted like some people!” A cold smirk touched my lips as I listened to their thinly veiled taunts. Oh, this was just perfect! I wondered if they’d still be so nonchalant, so dismissive of a few minutes, in about half an hour. Brandon’s single lollipop had just bought away the most precious fifteen minutes of their lives. That instant of sugary sweetness was destined to brew a hundred, a thousand times the bitterness for them. They munched on their lollipops, singing along to the radio, treating the SATs like some grand spring picnic. But soon, some of them started to notice that something was off. The traffic outside was growing denser, and the bus was crawling at an increasingly sluggish pace. “Latest update,” the bus driver announced, his voice heavy with dread. “There’s severe flooding ahead. The road’s blocked. We’ll have to take a detour. We might be late.” The previously boisterous bus fell into an immediate, deafening silence. Amy’s face went ashen with disbelief. “No way… Absolutely impossible! How can this road be blocked?” Panic gripped everyone instantly. “What are we going to do? If I miss the SATs, my entire life is over!” “You’re the driver! Do something! I can’t be late!” The driver shook his head helplessly. “To get to the testing center fastest, we’d need to find another mode of transport and go directly through the flooded areas.” I watched everything unfold with cold detachment. In my previous life, when my mom heard they were stuck, she’d immediately mobilized over a dozen large construction vehicles from her company nearby and successfully transported everyone to the testing center. But these people, far from being grateful, had spread malicious rumors online, claiming she’d extorted a thousand dollars each for “fuel.” Facing such ungrateful ingrates, I certainly wouldn’t be naive enough to call my mom for help again. At that moment, Brandon suddenly spoke up, brimming with unwarranted confidence. “Everyone, don’t worry! I know a shortcut. It’ll definitely get us to the testing center on time.” Hearing him, everyone visibly relaxed, as if Brandon’s words held some magical power that made them instantly believe him! I knew it. In their eyes, I was just a jealous, bad guy. And Brandon? He was their beloved “good student.” Because I’d pushed them to study late into the night, to memorize texts, while Brandon never did. The expensive prep materials I’d had my mom buy from top tutors were worth less to them than a single lollipop Brandon offered. Even when I’d assigned Brandon duty, they’d claimed I was singling him out. “See? Brandon always has a solution, unlike some people who just clam up when there’s a problem, totally lacking any backbone.” Amy gushed, excitedly linking her arm through Brandon’s, making sure to land a jab at me. I lowered my head, a cold smile playing on my lips, tightening my grip on my phone. Were they truly so certain Brandon would kindly show them a shortcut? 3 As expected, Brandon’s supposed shortcut proved to be entirely useless. The noisy chatter in the bus had vanished, replaced by palpable anxiety on every face. Each tick of the digital clock seemed to drain more color from them. “Are we really not going to make it?” Noah, the class’s study monitor, asked the driver, his voice laced with despair. The driver merely offered a contemptuous sneer in return. If these students hadn’t so stubbornly delayed our departure by fifteen minutes, this entire situation would never have happened. By the time the bus arrived at the testing center, the entrance was already sealed. No students were allowed inside. Amy stepped off the bus, her face stark white. She stared at the high barricades, utterly bewildered. “How can this be?” Noah tried to push past the police tape but was immediately stopped by an officer. “The SATs have already begun. No one is permitted to enter the testing center.” Other students disembarked, their legs like jelly. As Amy had said, this was the SATs—an exam where a single point could change a life, let alone missing an entire section. I watched them, a cold satisfaction flickering in my eyes. You were all so willing to gamble your futures for Brandon, weren’t you? Why are you crying and wailing now? Just then, Amy spoke up, her voice surprisingly steady. “Everyone, don’t panic. We were late for a reason. We can explain the situation to the teachers and arrange for a makeup exam.” The students’ expressions instantly brightened, like drowning people grasping at a lifeline. They clamored, demanding to see a teacher. But before they could take any action, Principal Thompson arrived, his face livid, accompanied by a group of teachers. Seeing the principal’s expression, Amy’s heart inexplicably plummeted. She had a terrible feeling. “Deliberately delaying your departure by fifteen minutes – what were you students thinking? A makeup exam? Don’t even dream about it!” the principal roared. “Not being labeled as intentionally missing the exam and banned from taking the SATs for three years is already a mercy.” His furious words hung in the air. Parents who had been waiting outside the testing center in the rain began to point and whisper. “They were late for something as important as the SATs? How irresponsible can you be?” “If that were my kid, I’d drag them home right now and give them the beating of their life!” The parents’ condemnation plunged everyone further into despair. Noah grabbed Amy by the collar, roaring, “Amy, you told us Elliot was just jealous and lying, that we should wait for Brandon! Why can’t I even get into the testing center now?” The others stared at Amy, their faces filled with rage. Sophia stood with her head bowed, looking as if all the life had been drained from her, her face etched with deep regret. Brandon, meanwhile, choked back tears, his voice trembling with sorrow. “The road never gets blocked, why did it have to get blocked today, the one day I was running late, without any warning?” His words sounded like self-reproach, but they were clearly a subtle manipulation. Suddenly, Amy looked up at me, her eyes bloodshot. “Elliot Carter, you’re pulling the strings, aren’t you? You’re jealous of Brandon, you wanted him to miss the exam! When you couldn’t get what you wanted at school, you called your mom and had her send people to block the road!” She seethed. “You’re so heartless! To play with the futures of our entire class just for some petty jealousy!” 4 The sheer absurdity of it all washed over me. Amy, in her desperate attempt to absolve Brandon, was resorting to such a flimsy excuse. “It wasn’t me—” I began to explain, but Brandon suddenly grabbed a handful of my hair, yanking me toward the bus. Principal Thompson moved to intervene, but Amy’s voice cut through the air, sharp and accusatory. “I saw him! I saw him texting his mom! He’s ruined all of us! Principal, are you really going to protect a malicious student like this?” The other students subtly encircled me, watching the principal and teachers with cold, unyielding gazes, their actions clearly conveying their stance. Brandon feigned heartbroken disappointment, looking at me with feigned sorrow. “Class President, I know you have issues with me, but even if you wanted revenge, you shouldn’t have dragged the entire class into it.” Amy’s face hardened. She moved to help Brandon, pushing my head against the bus. Thud! My head slammed against the metal, drawing blood. But all I heard was Amy’s furious voice: “Elliot Carter, you’ve ruined everyone’s chance at the SATs! Even if you’re my boyfriend, I’m going to make you pay for this!” She yanked my head back and slammed it against the bus again and again. The intense pain made me wish for death, but I knew I couldn’t give in now. Amy was slandering me like this purely to absolve Brandon. After all, everyone was late because they’d waited for him. I screamed, fighting back. “You chose to delay our departure yourselves! Missing the exam has nothing to do with me!” Amy gritted her teeth. “Still lying?” As she spoke, Brandon suddenly aimed his phone’s camera at me. “Folks, this is the scumbag right here! Because he was jealous of me, he deliberately caused our entire class to miss the SATs!” I looked up, catching the fleeting glimpse of triumph in Brandon’s eyes. By this point, he clearly had no intention of keeping up the act. The SATs were already a trending topic, and Brandon’s plea for sympathy immediately drew in over a hundred thousand viewers. The live chat was filled with venomous curses. “The streamer is so pitiful! Following you now, I’ll support whatever you do!” “Sacrificing everyone’s future for his own selfish desires? This kid’s truly rotten!” “What school is this? Whose son is he? Tell me the address, I’ll go take care of him myself!” Noah rushed forward, his voice hoarse with rage. “This is the SATs! How could you be so cruel?” The other students, though not physically charging me, watched with eyes that promised to tear me apart. In just a few minutes, Brandon’s live stream had swelled to three hundred thousand viewers, most of them wishing me dead and even dragging my mom’s name through the mud. Brandon’s expression, hidden from the camera, grew increasingly triumphant. He seemed certain I had no chance of turning this around. “You venomous bastard, you deserve to die!” Just as Amy was about to slam my head against the bus again, a voice cut through the crowd. “Stop!” My mom, Mrs. Carter, pushed through the crowd with a group of bodyguards, rushing to my side. Seeing the blood on my forehead, she pulled me into a protective embrace, her eyes filled with anguish. “How dare you hit my son?” Noah’s voice was ragged. “Elliot Carter made us miss the SATs! He deserves to die!” “Impossible!” My mom raised her phone, her voice ringing out clearly. “The one who truly caused you to miss the SATs is Brandon! I have surveillance video as proof!”

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1 Julian Wheeler sneered, his full weight pressing down on the concrete beam that pinned me. His voice was a shard of ice. “Give me a break, Rosalie. You think I don’t know you? You’ve already found a safe spot. Who do you think you’re fooling with this little act?” He stomped his feet for emphasis, sending a shower of fine, gritty dust raining down on my face. The agony of splintered bone ripped a scream from my throat. I tried to shield my stomach, a futile gesture. I already knew. My baby was gone. Julian pulled his precious Sybil up to stand beside him on the very beam that was crushing me. “The earthquake must have terrified you,” he murmured to her, his voice suddenly gentle. “Don’t worry. I’m here now.” Sybil Bristow, a portrait of tragic beauty, collapsed into his arms. “Julian, darling, I’m so scared,” she sobbed. “The stones… they scratched me. What if I’m scarred? What if you don’t love me anymore?” He kissed away her tears. “Never. No matter what, you’ll always be the most beautiful woman in the world to me.” His eyes flicked back to me, contemptuous. “Unlike this manipulative bitch. Found the perfect angle, didn’t you? Almost looks like you’re really trapped.” He kicked the beam, a deliberate, jarring motion. “Is this what it’s about? Another desperate play for my attention? Just like the first time you threw yourself at me. Well, let me tell you, Rosalie, it won’t work again. The only one for me is Sybil.” Sybil burrowed deeper into his embrace, her voice a watery whisper. “Julian, darling, I was so frightened. And just now… Rosalie… she tried to push—” She let the sentence hang, an open invitation for his imagination to fill in the blanks. But a member of the rescue team, his face tight with fury, cut them off. “Get off of her, now! If you don’t move, you’re going to kill them both—the mother and the child!” Julian laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. “A woman like her? She’s better off dead. Does she really think she’s worthy of carrying a Wheeler heir?” And in that moment, nestled in Julian’s arms, Sybil mouthed two words to me, a triumphant smirk on her face. I won. Yes. She had won. I remembered the moment just before the world started to shake. She had leaned in close, her voice a venomous whisper. “Why don’t we play a little game? When the quake hits, who do you think Julian will save first? You, or me?” And then, I felt two distinct pairs of hands shove me from both sides, sending me stumbling into the open… The rescuer’s patience snapped. He was about to shout at them again, to drag them away. But I turned my head, tears finally tracing paths through the grime on my cheeks. “Save her first,” I whispered. As the words left my lips, another tremor shook the ground. This time, Julian scrambled, pulling Sybil off the beam. Another slab of concrete crashed down onto it, right where they had been standing. The impact sent a fresh wave of agony through me. I bit my lip, refusing to make a sound. A warm wetness began to spread beneath me. Julian, standing safely to the side, sneered again. “Wow, you really commit to the part, don’t you? Even got the fake blood packets ready. When you’re done playing, crawl out from under there and beg Sybil for forgiveness. If you don’t, I’ll show you what it feels like to be crushed for real.” I said nothing. As I watched him shield Sybil like a priceless treasure, leading her away from the wreckage, I found I no longer had the energy to fight him. Not anymore. I closed my eyes, shutting them out. A love so skewed was never meant for me. Julian Wheeler, I’m done with you. I let you go. 2 When the rescue team finally lifted my broken, bloody body from the ruins, Julian was still there, watching from the sidelines with a cold, mocking smile. “Bravo,” he drawled. “The performance just keeps getting better. I see you’re using my family’s money on special effects makeup now. So realistic.” The pain was a thick fog, blurring the edges of my consciousness. My vision swam with black spots. My silence only seemed to infuriate him. He strode forward and kicked the side of the stretcher. “Addicted to the act, are you? It’s a damn shame you’re not an actress, Rosalie. Such a waste of talent.” The jolt sent a wave of nausea through me. I could almost hear the grinding of my fragmented bones. It was all I could do not to pass out. The rescue team rushed to intercept him. “What’s your problem?” Julian snarled, shoving back against them. “You’d rather waste your resources on a fraud than on people who actually need help? What unit are you with? I’m filing a complaint!” One of the rescuers, his face red with anger, got right in Julian’s face. “Sir, back the hell off and let us do our job! And if you can’t tell a real injury from a fake one, I suggest you go get your eyes checked!” The insult lit a fuse in Julian. With a roar of fury, he kicked the stretcher again, this time with enough force to flip it completely. “So that’s your game, Rosalie! You’ve hired accomplices now! You think this will make me look at you? That it will earn you an ounce more of my affection than Sybil gets? Dream on!” I hit the rough ground hard. The impact stole my breath, the pain so absolute it was suffocating. But the agony in my body was nothing compared to the shattering of my heart. My own injuries didn’t matter. But my baby… my baby never even got the chance to see the sky. He was only mine for four weeks… Despair, cold and vast, washed over me. My heart felt like it was being physically torn in two. But some primal instinct took over, and I began to crawl, inch by painful inch, away from him. I never want to see you again, Julian. I will never love you again… The rescue team was practically brawling with him now, trying to keep him away from me. Sybil, of course, chose that moment to start her own performance, crying hysterically. “Stop it! Please, stop fighting!” She tugged on Julian’s sleeve, her expression a perfect blend of vulnerability and anguish. “Julian, darling, it’s all my fault. Please don’t blame Rosalie. I… I don’t have her talent for theatrics. It’s my fault everyone looks down on me. I’ll… I’ll even forgive her for pushing me. Just please, make them stop!” Julian’s expression softened instantly. He sighed, stroking her hair. “You’re just too kind, Sybil. That’s why she’s always been able to bully you. You’re the most important person in my world. Who the hell does Rosalie Thorne think she is, hurting you like this?” He turned his furious gaze back to me. “Don’t you worry. This time, I won’t let her get away with it.” He shoved the rescuer aside. “Today, I’m going to show all of you just how far she’ll go for a scrap of my attention!” He grabbed me by my hair, dragging my broken body across the rubble-strewn ground. I was barely conscious, a thin, keening sound escaping my lips, a horrifying trail of blood marking my path. But all I got in return was Julian’s scornful laugh. “Such a dedicated performance, Rosalie. You’re really determined to humiliate me in front of all these people. I gave you a chance. You should have taken it.” He kicked me again, sending me sprawling, then strode toward me. “Today, I’m going to prove to everyone whether you’re really hurt, or just putting on a show!” 3 Just as I thought I was about to die, a furious roar cut through the chaos. “Enough! Are you even human? I’ve never seen a man try to murder his own wife for some woman on the side!” It was the rescue captain. I lay on the ground, a broken heap, and looked up at Julian’s enraged face. My own voice was flat, hollowed out by despair. “Julian, just kill me. Then I’ll never have to see you again.” For a split second, shock flashed in his eyes, quickly consumed by a fresh wave of fury. He lunged, but the rescue team tackled him, restraining him as I turned my head away, tears finally blurring my vision. As darkness closed in, I heard his parting roar. “Are you insane? I knew it! I knew you were faking, you manipulative bitch! You’ve fooled everyone!” “You think I want to see you? Fine! Leave me! Let’s see how long it is before you come crawling back, begging to be let back into the Wheeler family!” A dull, throbbing pain in my heart pulled me back to consciousness. My mind was still fuzzy, but I could hear the hushed chatter of nurses nearby. “Did you see Mr. Wheeler? The CEO of Wheeler Corporation? He and his wife are so in love.” “I know, right? He dotes on her completely. She just got a few scratches in the earthquake, but he’s been running around, making sure everything is perfect, even feeding her medicine himself.” “I’m so jealous! He treats her like a princess. You just don’t find men like that anymore.” I opened my eyes, blinking at the sterile white ceiling. My hand instinctively went to my flat stomach. I didn’t need to ask. I knew. My baby was gone forever. The pain had faded into a dull, consuming numbness. For the first time in my life, I truly craved the release of death. But fate wasn’t done with me. Sybil stormed into the room, her face a mask of smug triumph. “Someone like you, competing with me? Don’t make me laugh. Julian will always love me best.” She leaned closer. “Compared to me, your life is worthless.” Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “Oh, I almost forgot. During the earthquake? Julian was so worried you might hurt me that he personally pushed you out of the way.” If I weren’t paralyzed in this bed, I would have lunged at her and torn her to pieces. Sybil just laughed, a cruel, triumphant sound. Suddenly, footsteps echoed in the hallway. Sybil heard them too. A sly smile touched her lips. “Remember this, Rosalie. There’s only room for one woman by Julian’s side.” In a flash, she threw herself onto the floor, mussing her hair and forcing out desperate, gasping sobs. “Rosalie, please! I’m begging you, don’t hurt me!” The door flew open and Julian rushed in. Without a word, without a moment’s hesitation, he strode to my bed and slapped me across the face. “I knew it! I knew you were trying to hurt Sybil again! You venomous snake, aren’t you tired of this act?” I couldn’t tell what hurt more—my cheek, my heart, or my broken body. Every part of me was screaming in pain. I looked up at him, my voice devoid of emotion. “I’m paralyzed. How, exactly, could I have hurt her?” Julian’s brow furrowed for a second, before he grabbed me and yanked me out of the bed. “You’re not done acting? What a performance! You’ve even got the hospital staff on your payroll. It seems marrying me has paid off quite well for you, hasn’t it?” My body gave way and I collapsed onto the floor, my head striking the hard tile with a sickening crack. Blood began to well from a new cut. But Julian just grabbed a fistful of my hair, forcing my head back so I had to look at him. “Sybil is the victim here, because of you! Now you’re going to get on your knees and apologize!” And with that, he tried to slam my head against the floor.

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1 I have a gift—by touching an object, I can locate its missing owner. People like me are called Trackers. Once, Elder Kinsman paid me a fortune to find his missing grandson, Shane. I drained years of energy to find him, but then Shane’s sister, Isabelle, called. She accused me of kidnapping him as part of a scam. “Find my brother in 24 hours,” she hissed, “or I’ll kill your parents and send you their remains as a souvenir.” But my gift has one rule: only one search per day. By the time I got home, my parents were dead. Isabelle branded me a fraud and murderer. I died in agony. Then I woke up—back on the day Elder Kinsman came begging for help. This time, I cut him off. “Sir, you’ve been misled. No one can find people like that. If they could, they’d be gods. Call the police instead.” … I watched with cold eyes as Elder Kinsman pleaded with me, his own eyes brimming with tears. “Ms. Vance, I’m begging you, have mercy… Shane is only eighteen. He’s the future of our family…” I stepped back to pull my arm from his grasp, but he clung to me like a drowning man to a life raft. “I know the rules of the game. I’ll triple the fee! No, five times! If you find Shane, you can have half of the Kinsman family fortune!” “Mr. Kinsman, money can’t buy a life, and it can’t bend my rules. I told you, I don’t have this gift. Your best bet is the police.” He looked up, his wrinkled face a mask of pure despair. “But they all said you could! Three years ago, you found the Miller girl after she was gone for six months. Five years ago, you located the Hayes boy in that unmarked grave. Ms. Vance, those children got to live. Why can’t my Shane?” I stared at his trembling lips, a familiar ache rising in my chest. It had been the same in my past life. He had knelt in the mud of my small garden, telling me how he’d raised Shane himself, how the boy was dearer to him than his own son. My heart had softened. I took the jade pendant Shane always wore and burned through most of my energy to get a location. Just as I was about to speak, the phone had rung. I could hear the sound of chains clanking in the background of Isabelle’s call. “Tracker? Your parents are currently enjoying some stale bread I so generously provided. Would you like to hear them?” My mother’s muffled sobs echoed through the phone. “Release my brother, and I’ll release them. Twenty-four hours should be plenty of time for your little magic trick, right? Oh, and I forgot to mention, I’ve strapped timed explosives to their ankles. If my brother isn’t back, you can expect two boxes of minced meat to arrive on your doorstep.” I had run home like a madwoman. The first thing I saw was the iron box on the kitchen table. Inside was a neat arrangement of bloody, unidentifiable flesh. Isabelle had been leaning casually against the doorframe, toying with Shane’s jade pendant. “So much for your ‘gift’,” she’d said with a smirk. “Couldn’t find my brother, and you got your own parents killed. Men, take her away.” Then she’d smiled sweetly at me. “Come along, little fraud. I’ve already prepared a coffin just for you.” Her bodyguards dragged me away like a dead dog. I was thrown into the Kinsman family’s basement and subjected to days of unimaginable torment. As I lay dying, she had whispered in my ear, “If anything happens to my brother, I’ll make sure your parents never know a moment of peace, even in the afterlife.” 2 “Ms. Vance? Ms. Vance, are you alright?” Elder Kinsman’s voice pulled me back to the present. I blinked, realizing he was now kneeling on the ground before me. “What are you doing?” I scrambled to pull him up. “I’m begging you… Shane came to me in a dream last night. He said he was cold. The boy’s been frail since he was a child. Ms. Vance, please, think of it as a good deed. For the sake of an eighteen-year-old boy… save him!” “I don’t have that power.” “You do! I know you do!” His fingernails dug into my arm. Just as I was about to speak again, the sound of hurried footsteps approached the courtyard gate. Right on schedule. “Grandfather! What are you doing on your knees?! You—you conniving bitch! How dare you bewitch my grandfather!” Isabelle Kinsman’s voice was like a shard of poisoned ice. Seeing her grandfather kneeling, she rushed forward and kicked me hard in the back of my knee. I stumbled but caught my balance, staring at her coldly. “What are you looking at? You think that pretty face is enough to swindle the Kinsman family? Why don’t you take a good look at yourself in a puddle first? If anything happens to my brother, I’ll peel the skin from your face and feed it to the wild dogs!” “Isabelle! Show some respect!” Elder Kinsman struggled to his feet with his cane. “Grandfather, don’t let her fool you! These street magicians are experts at putting on a show! I bet she’s the one who kidnapped Shane, trying to extort us! Just you wait. I’ll chop her fingers off right now and see how she performs her little tricks then!” Isabelle suddenly leaned in close, her voice a venomous whisper in my ear. “Your parents are still out in the countryside, aren’t they? How would you like it if I sent some people to ‘invite’ them over for a visit? They can see for themselves what a murderous, thieving daughter they raised.” “You wouldn’t dare!” I shoved her hand away. “Wouldn’t I? Last time some hack from downtown tried to cross me, I had his parents’ graves dug up and their ashes scattered to the wind. Tell me, if I had your parents’ arms and legs cut off, turned them into living torsos, and shipped them overseas… don’t you think that would be a worse fate?” “Isabelle, you’re insane! Those are two innocent lives! If your brother… if he dies… he would never rest in peace knowing what you’ve done!” “My brother? If anything happens to my brother, I’ll make this entire city burn for him! And this bitch will be the first to go! I’ll cut out her tongue, sever her tendons, and gouge out her eyes. Let’s see her pretend to be a Tracker then!” Elder Kinsman collapsed to the ground, bowing his head again and again, his old face streaked with tears. “Ms. Vance, please, don’t take it to heart. She’s… she’s just mad with grief…” Everyone in the city knew how vicious Isabelle Kinsman could be. I knew it better than anyone. But I had already died once. This time, without my help, I was morbidly curious to see how Shane Kinsman would defy his fate. A grim satisfaction bloomed in my chest. The debt she owed me, owed my parents… I would collect it in full, with interest. Seeing the flicker of a smile on my face, Isabelle’s rage intensified. She shoved me violently against the wall. The impact sent a burst of black spots across my vision. Isabelle gestured to the bodyguards at the gate. “Take the old man back to the estate. And don’t let him leave without my permission.” “Isabelle! You can’t do this! Only Ms. Vance… only she can save Shane!” Elder Kinsman cried out as he was dragged away. The courtyard gate slammed shut, plunging the world into silence. It was just the two of us. She sauntered over to the small table and picked up the locket my mother had given me, something I’d worn for over twenty years. She held it between two fingers as if it were something foul. “I hear this is the good luck charm your mother crawled up a thousand temple steps to pray for. Peasants will be peasants. No wonder she raised a fraud like you. Clearly a case of no proper upbringing.” I moved to snatch it back, but she stomped her foot down on my wrist. The sharp stiletto heel ground into bone, and a cold sweat broke out across my forehead from the searing pain. “What’s the hurry? Aren’t you the great actress? Keep it up. Now tell me! Where did you hide my brother?” “I didn’t kidnap him.” My voice was shaking, not from fear, but from a deep, burning hatred. “No? Fine. Name your price. How much to get him back?” “I told you, I didn’t kidnap him!” She laughed, a cruel, mocking sound. “Playing hardball, are we? Fine. Have it your way.” She raised her voice. “Bring them in!” At that moment, the courtyard gate creaked open, and I heard a familiar, desperate cry. 3 My head snapped up. Two bodyguards were dragging my parents into the courtyard. My mother’s hair was disheveled, and a trickle of blood ran down my father’s temple. “Dad! Mom!” “Let them go!” I roared, scrambling to crawl toward them, but Isabelle’s foot pressed down harder on my back, pinning me to the ground. She crouched, yanking my hair back. “Fine! Release my brother first! Or you can watch me turn your parents into living torsos, piece by piece!” “Miss, please,” my mother sobbed, her body trembling. “Our Aria is a good girl… she’s not a con artist! She would never do something like this!” “Not a con artist?!” Isabelle snatched an iron rod from one of the guards and brought it down hard on my father’s leg. A sharp crack echoed through the yard, followed by my father’s agonized scream. The shock sent my mother into a dead faint. “Dad!” I tried to crawl forward, but Isabelle’s heel dug deeper into my spine. She used the iron rod to lift my father’s chin. “Your daughter kidnapped my brother for money. As her parents, you share the blame. If she won’t talk, you will.” My father, though contorted in pain, glared at her. “You… monster… my daughter would never…” “Still stubborn?” She swung the rod again, breaking his other leg. He let out a choked gasp, his shirt instantly soaked with cold sweat. Just as Isabelle was about to use the rod to pry open his mouth, the sound of a powerful car engine cut through the air. A man in a tailored suit strode into the courtyard, followed by four imposing bodyguards. The sheer force of his presence made Isabelle’s men tense up instinctively. “Marcus Austin? What are you doing here?” Isabelle frowned, her voice laced with hostility. The Austin and Kinsman families had been business rivals for a decade, and Marcus was the competitor she despised most. Marcus didn’t even look at her. His gaze fell on me. Seeing the blood on my wrist and the scene of carnage on the ground, his brow furrowed. He signaled his men, who effortlessly pushed Isabelle aside and helped me to my feet. “Ms. Vance,” he said, his voice calm and steady. “I’ve come to request your services.” Isabelle let out a shrill, piercing laugh. “Marcus, are you blind, or did you just hit your head? The whole city knows this woman is a charlatan who cons people out of their money. Is the Austin family fortune so vast you can afford to throw it away on gutter trash like her?” She suddenly lashed out, kicking me in the knees. I crumpled to the ground, my chin hitting the stone pavers with a sickening crack. The taste of blood flooded my mouth. “Take a good look at her!” Isabelle shouted at Marcus, her foot pressing down on my back. “Yesterday she was picking through rotten vegetables at the farmer’s market, and today she’s playing at being a Tracker? I bet she couldn’t even find her own parents’ graves!” Marcus’s jaw tightened. “Isabelle, watch your mouth.” “My mouth?” She laughed as if he’d told a joke, then grabbed my hair and shoved my face toward him. “You’re pinning your hopes on this? I bet your niece was kidnapped by a fraud just like her! For all you know, she’s being sold to a brothel right now to pay this bitch’s bills!” My father, trembling with rage, tried to push himself up. “You’re lying! My daughter is not—” Isabelle backhanded him across the face with the iron rod. Blood streamed from the corner of his mouth. “Shut up, old man! She doesn’t have any real gift! Her parents probably raised her on money they scammed from a marriage proposal! This whole family is a brood of vipers!” Marcus’s face turned to stone. “Isabelle, that’s enough.” She just laughed, pulling a crumpled ball of paper from her pocket and tossing it at his feet. “I found this under her bed this morning! Probably her little book of scams.” It was actually a collection of recipes my mother had written for me. Mangled as it was, it could be whatever she claimed it to be. “Oh, Marcus, Marcus,” she taunted. “Your niece has been missing for three days. Was she taken by one of your enemies? You must be truly desperate to turn to a fraud like this. Then again, I suppose the great Austin family can’t afford a decent private investigator anymore. Oh, that’s right, you’re on the verge of bankruptcy, aren’t you? Ever since your father’s failed investment last year, you’ve practically had to mortgage the family estate!” “Enough!” Marcus’s voice was as cold as ice. But Isabelle was reveling in her cruelty. “Did I strike a nerve? It’s pathetic, really. Ignoring the police to hire a psychic who claims she can find people by sniffing their underwear. The whole city will laugh at you! Your niece would be better off dead than being used in a scam by this parasite!” She raised her foot and stomped down hard on my hand. The sound of bone crunching mixed with my own cry of pain. “Talk! Did you sell my brother off already? Are you trying to scam the Austins now, too? I’m telling you, if you don’t produce my brother today, I’ll strip you naked, hang you from the gate, and let every stray dog and homeless man in this city have a taste—” Her phone began to ring, shrill and insistent. Her voice trembled as she answered it. “Hello? … What? … No, that’s impossible! You’re mistaken!” Whatever was said on the other end made her let out a terrified scream. The phone slipped from her grasp and hit the ground, the screen shattering into a spiderweb of cracks. Isabelle scrambled to her feet and bolted, shoving Marcus hard as she ran past him. “Marcus, you watch this bitch for me! If a single hair on her head is out of place, I’ll gouge out your niece’s eyes and use them as marbles!” Marcus waved a hand, and his bodyguards immediately moved forward, carefully helping me to my feet. “Ms. Vance, let me get you and your parents to a hospital.” Meanwhile, Isabelle raced home. She burst through the living room doors to find Elder Kinsman collapsed on the sofa. On the mahogany table before him sat a black box, its edges dripping with a dark, reddish liquid. “Grandfather!” She lunged forward. The box tipped and fell, and a severed hand rolled out onto the floor. On the inside of the wrist, a lopsided sun tattoo seared itself into her vision. She’d taken Shane to get it two years ago. He had been so afraid of the pain, he’d cried and squeezed her hand for half an hour, causing the artist to botch the design.

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After a company intern reported me, my wife said he was just being naive. “Sir, we’re going to need to open your suitcase for inspection.” The customs officer’s face was grim as he pulled me aside. I froze, watching as they pulled the packet of white powder from a hidden compartment with unnerving precision. Three days later, my wife picked me up from the detention center. “He’s just an intern, he doesn’t know any better,” she said, her tone casual. “Don’t take it personally.” That was the moment I realized. This marriage should have ended a long time ago. 1 The click of the lock turning echoed in the quiet hall as I dragged my exhausted body through the door. The wheels of my suitcase screeched against the polished floor. The living room lights were blinding, making my eyes ache. The moment he saw me, the intern, Jackson, shot up from the sofa. His eyes were red-rimmed, his lip trembling. He was wearing my slippers. The gray cotton ones I’d bought just last month. The sight of them on his feet was a jarring violation. “Mr. Reilly,” he choked out, his voice thick with an emotion that suggested he was the one who had been wronged. “I really didn’t know it was just your sinus medication in the bag.” “I thought it was… something illegal. I didn’t mean to, please don’t be angry.” Tears welled in his eyes, threatening to spill over. I watched him in silence, saying nothing. My wife, Kendra, walked over and patted Jackson’s shoulder. Her voice was so gentle it felt foreign to me. “It’s alright, Jackson. Don’t blame yourself. It wasn’t your fault.” She turned to me, a hint of reprimand in her eyes. “Ethan, don’t be so hard on him. Jackson just graduated; he doesn’t have any real-world experience. How was he supposed to know the ins and outs of these things?” I stared at her, my throat tightening. “So you think him reporting me, getting me detained by customs for three days, is just a minor inconvenience?” Kendra frowned. “But you’re out now, aren’t you? Nothing really happened.” Jackson hung his head, his voice a barely audible whisper. “Mr. Reilly, I’m really, truly sorry.” “You seem pretty comfortable in my slippers,” I cut him off, my voice low. Jackson’s head snapped up, his face instantly draining of color. He glanced down at his feet in a panic, stammering, “I-I was just…” I took a step closer, my voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Because you think you can just walk in and out of this house as you please?” Kendra suddenly stepped between us, her tone turning icy. “Ethan, that’s enough! Jackson is here to apologize. What is this attitude?” I looked at her, and a wave of absurdity washed over me. “Kendra,” I said, taking a deep breath. “I want a divorce.” The air froze. Jackson’s eyes widened, his lips trembling even more violently. He stumbled forward, his knees buckling as if he were about to fall to the ground, his voice cracking. “Mr. Reilly, it was all my fault. Don’t blame Kendra.” “I’ll… I’ll get on my knees and beg for your forgiveness, okay? Please, just don’t divorce her.” The way he acted, anyone would think I was the one bullying him. Kendra grabbed his arm, pulling him forcefully to his feet, her voice laced with concern. “Jackson, what are you doing? Stop it!” She whirled on me, her eyes blazing with fury. “Ethan, are you serious? A grown man, being this petty?” A bitter smile touched my lips. I stared at Jackson’s tear-streaked face. “What’s this now? Are we moving on to the tragic melodrama portion of the evening?” My words struck Jackson like a physical blow. He flinched, and the tears fell faster, but he bit his lip and didn’t dare say another word. Kendra’s chest heaved with anger. She pointed a shaking finger at me. “What’s with the sarcasm? Jackson is here to sincerely apologize!” “Do you have any idea what the rumors are at the office because of what happened to you?” “The board of directors is involved! They’re saying a senior executive is suspected of smuggling. Think of how damaging that is!” 2 She grew more agitated as she spoke, her voice rising. “It was me! I was the one who had to go to each of them, explaining, suppressing the story, telling them it was all just a misunderstanding!” “Do you have any idea how much effort that took? And you?” “You come back with this sour face and now you’re threatening me with divorce?” “Ethan, do you have a conscience?!” Her voice was shrill, each word a knife twisting in my gut. But all I could think about was last month, when my stomach ulcer flared up and I was lying alone in a hospital bed on an IV drip. I called her over a dozen times, but she never picked up. I found out later she’d taken Jackson to an industry gala that night, a radiant smile on her face the whole time. My missed calls were brushed aside with a simple, “I didn’t hear it.” And before that, when my dad had a sudden stroke and I spent the entire night waiting outside the operating room, all she did was send a single text: “Something urgent came up at work, can’t get away. Take care of yourself.” I later heard from a colleague what her “urgent business” was. She was helping Jackson work late, and then she personally drove him home. The memories flooded back, a bitter tide rising in my throat. My eyes burned, hot and unwelcome. I clenched my jaw, refusing to show any weakness in front of her. But just then, Jackson dropped to his knees with a thud. Tears streamed down his face, hitting the floor with audible plinks. His voice was a wreck. “It’s all my fault. Mr. Reilly, Kendra, please stop fighting.” “I’ll… I’ll just jump off the balcony right now. You two can just be happy together, okay?” With that, he scrambled to his feet and made a dash for the balcony, acting as if he was about to end it all. Kendra screamed, lunging to grab him. “Jackson! What are you doing?! Don’t do something stupid!” He struggled against her, his cries heartbroken. “Let me go, Kendra! My being alive only makes you two fight! It’ll be better when I’m dead!” She held him tight, roaring at me over her shoulder, “Ethan! Are you satisfied now?! You won’t be happy until you’ve driven an innocent person to their death?!” I stood frozen, watching their tangled struggle. The whole scene was utterly ridiculous. “Go ahead and jump, Jackson. But drop the act. If you had any real guts, you wouldn’t have reported me in the first place.” Jackson’s sobs stopped abruptly. He froze mid-struggle. Kendra stared at me in disbelief, her voice trembling. “Ethan, are you even human?!” I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand and turned towards the entryway, tossing a final, cold sentence over my shoulder. “The divorce papers will be drawn up. Sign them or don’t. It’s up to you.” The night air was a biting wind against my skin. I stumbled through the doors of a bar, plunging into the noise and chaos. The lights were blinding, the music deafening, but none of it could drown out the roaring in my own head. “Whiskey. Neat,” I rasped, slamming my hand on the bar. My voice was unrecognizable. The bartender shot me a look but didn’t ask questions, just slid a glass over. I tilted my head back, the fiery liquid searing my throat, but it couldn’t numb the dull ache in my chest. One glass after another, until my vision blurred and the world began to spin. “Why? Why would she do this to me?” I slumped over the bar, my fingers gripping the glass so tightly my knuckles turned white. Kendra’s face, Jackson’s tears, the image of them tangled together—it all swam before my eyes. I slammed my fist on the table, startling the person next to me. “Wasn’t I good enough to her?! I would have given her my goddamn life!” 3 My voice was raw, but in a crowded bar, no one pays attention to a drunk’s ravings. The bartender pushed another drink towards me. “Sir, you’ve had too much.” “None of your damn business!” I grabbed the glass and downed it. The alcohol churned in my stomach, but my mind was becoming painfully clear. I don’t know how much time passed before I felt hands lifting me up. Through my blurry vision, I saw a pair of slender but strong hands hauling me out by the arm. The next day, I walked into the office with a splitting headache. As I pushed open my office door, I was met with the averted gazes of several colleagues. It seemed the “customs incident” had already made the rounds, though no one dared mention it to my face. My office was separated from Kendra’s by only a hallway, the glass-wall design leaving nothing hidden. I tried to force myself not to look, but my eyes were drawn to her office like a magnet. Jackson stood by her desk, a stack of files in his arms. He was leaning in close, his lips almost touching her ear. Whatever he said made her laugh softly. She even reached up to straighten his crooked tie, a gesture so familiar it looked like it had been performed a thousand times. My knuckles whitened around the pen in my hand. A large black blot of ink spread across the document on my desk. “Mr. Reilly, this contract needs your signature.” My assistant tiptoed in, but my dark expression made her take a step back. “Leave it,” I said without looking up. She put the file down and glanced nervously across the hall, but ultimately decided to keep her mouth shut and left. At noon, I went to the break room for coffee and walked right in on Jackson clinging to Kendra’s arm, whining playfully. “Kendra, that new Japanese place is impossible to get a reservation for.” “But I heard sea urchin is your favorite, so I had a friend pull some strings to hold a table.” Kendra laughed, poking him on the forehead. “You’re such a sweet talker.” They turned and saw me standing in the doorway. The air instantly froze. Jackson let go of her arm as if he’d been electrocuted. “M-Mr. Reilly. I was just, uh, reporting to Director Evans on a project.” I calmly pressed the button on the coffee machine, not even bothering to look at them. “Reporting on a project requires you to be that close? When did the company start offering tango lessons?” Kendra’s face darkened. She pulled Jackson behind her slightly. “Ethan, watch your tone. Jackson is just a bit enthusiastic. Don’t project your own filthy thoughts onto others.” Hot water splashed onto the back of my hand. I barely felt the sting. I let out a small, humorless laugh, picked up my mug, and brushed past them, my voice low. “Director Evans, that mark on your neck… your foundation didn’t quite cover it.” Kendra’s hand flew to her neck, her face turning pale. Jackson, on the other hand, looked like a cat whose tail had just been stepped on, his ears instantly turning a deep shade of red. Back in my office, I locked the door and threw the coffee, mug and all, into the trash. Through the glass wall, I could see Jackson talking to Kendra with red-rimmed eyes, while she gently patted his shoulder. And I, the “petty” husband, was nothing more than the disposable villain in their love story.

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My fiancé gained ten pounds before our wedding physical. I broke up with him on the spot. He rubbed his temples, a bitter smile twisting his lips. “Is my appearance really that important to you? I can lose the weight, Amrita. I promise.” I just shook my head. “No, it’s not that,” I said, my voice steady. “At your last check-up, you were diagnosed with fatty liver disease. For your health, you promised me you’d eat clean.” I calmly held up my phone, showing him the screenshot. A private Instagram story he’d hidden from me. The background was our newly renovated condo, the one we were supposed to move into after the wedding. In the photo, a delicate hand with a perfect manicure was placing a box of beef into a bubbling hot pot for him. “I’m the one eating boiled vegetables and chicken breast with you every night,” I said, my voice dangerously quiet. “So who’s the girl treating you to hot pot, barbecue, and pizza?” 1 The color drained from Allen’s face. “Amrita, listen to me, I can explain…” Before he could get the words out, his phone buzzed on the table. It had been doing that at the same time every day for weeks. I’d always assumed it was work. Now I knew better. I didn’t even look up. “Put it on speaker.” The phone rang for a full thirty seconds, a shrill, insistent sound in the tense silence. Finally, he swiped to answer, his thumb hovering over the speaker icon before pressing down. “Allen, honey,” a sweet voice cooed from the speaker. “I made that spicy poached fish you love. When are you coming over?” A cold sweat broke out on Allen’s forehead, his lips trembling. He finally managed to choke out a single sentence. “I’m not coming.” Then he scrambled to hang up. But it was too late. I recognized that voice. It belonged to his ex-girlfriend of ten years, Isabelle. A humorless laugh escaped my lips. “After all this time. Of course, it’s still her.” I snatched my car keys from the table and walked toward the door. “Come on,” I said, looking back at him. “Let’s go have some of that fish, shall we?” The drive to our—to my—condo took twenty minutes. The renovations had just been finished last month. I’m a sentimental person; I wanted to wait until we were officially married to spend our first night there together. The bed, a custom piece I’d designed myself, had cost me over ten thousand dollars. I’d never even laid down on it. But apparently, another woman had. A wave of nausea washed over me. I felt sick. “Amrita… Isabelle just got laid off, and her landlord scammed her out of her deposit. She had nowhere else to go. She called me, crying… We all went to college together, you know? I was just letting her crash for a few days…” He kept rambling, his excuses a meaningless buzz in my ear as we waited for the elevator. I tuned him out. The moment I opened the door, a sharp pain lanced through my chest, even though I thought I was prepared. I’d been so busy with work, and Allen had insisted the paint fumes were still too strong, that I hadn’t been back to see the place. I didn’t recognize it. A fluffy pink throw was draped over the sofa. A bouquet of yellow roses and baby’s breath sat on the coffee table. The kitchen was fully stocked, and a clay pot on the stove was simmering, sending fragrant steam into the air. It felt like a giant hand was squeezing my throat, cutting off my air. “Woof! Woof!” A small Pomeranian scampered out of the bedroom, followed closely by Isabelle. The two of them, woman and dog, looked more like they belonged here than I ever would. The sheer audacity of it all made me want to laugh. Isabelle wrung her hands, the picture of innocence. “Amrita, I’m so sorry. I’m in a really tough spot. I’ll move out as soon as I find a place.” Before I could say a word, Allen exploded. “Isabelle, I’ve done more than enough for you!” he roared. “You have two days. Find a job and get out. If you can’t, go back to your hometown and stop screwing up my life!” He stomped into the living room, grabbing the pink throw and the vase of flowers, and hurled them into the trash can. “This is my and Amrita’s home! I let you stay here out of pity, don’t push your luck!” His words brought tears to Isabelle’s eyes. She scooped up her dog, looking lost and hurt. “Allen… please don’t be so cruel.” “Don’t call me Allen! You don’t have the right!” He was putting on quite a show. You’d almost think she’d moved in without his permission. He pointed a shaking finger at the dinner table. “And I never wanted to eat this crap! You’re the one who insisted on cooking it!” The next thing I knew, he’d flipped the entire table over. Isabelle shrieked as hot oil and broth splattered onto her arm, a red welt instantly forming on her skin. Silent tears streamed down her face. She looked at Allen, her voice trembling with grief. “Do you really not want my food? Or are you just scared of her, saying things you don’t mean?” Her voice cracked. “Every time you came here, you were starving. She has you on that crazy diet, she won’t even let you eat a proper meal. I feel so sorry for you, and this is how you treat me?” The sobs wracked her body. “Nothing happened with Leo back then, I swear. We were just drunk. I loved you so much, Allen. How could I ever betray you?” “Shut up!” A flash of raw agony crossed Allen’s face. Right. I’d almost forgotten. They hadn’t broken up because they fell out of love. They broke up because Allen was convinced she’d cheated on him. 2 Allen and Isabelle had been high school sweethearts. First loves. They’d been together for ten years, all through college and his PhD program. A decade is a long time—long enough for someone to become a part of you, woven into the very fabric of your being. If Allen hadn’t walked in on Isabelle in bed with his best friend, Leo, they probably would have been married by now. After the breakup, it took Allen a full year to pull himself together. He was my father’s star student, and with a little encouragement from my dad, we started dating. When Isabelle found out, she staged a suicide attempt and went on social media, accusing me of being a homewrecker. All of their mutual friends treated me like an invader, an unwelcome presence in their circle. But Allen had been my rock through it all. He stood by me, defended me, and made me believe our foundation was solid. I truly thought we were fine. I never imagined that after all this time, he and Isabelle would still be tangled up like this. If a mutual friend hadn’t forwarded me that hidden Instagram story, I would still be in the dark, happily planning our wedding. My heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise. Isabelle’s choked sobs pulled me back to the trashed apartment. I couldn’t stand to be there for another second. I turned and walked out. “Amrita!” Allen scrambled after me. As he left, he tossed a small pack of bandages to Isabelle for her burn. A gesture that was supposed to look cold, but was really just a twisted form of caring. “Amrita, wait, slow down! Let me explain!” he pleaded, catching up to me. “I never wanted her in our home, I swear! But she’s crazy, she threatened to kill herself if I didn’t help her… She was always like this, even back in school. Her family life was a nightmare—abusive dad, mom ran off… She’s not like you, Amrita. You have a great family, a support system. She has nothing. It’s… it’s pitiful.” I almost laughed again. “So it’s my fault for having a good life?” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “No, that’s not what I mean! I’ll handle it, Amrita, I swear. I’ll get her out. Just… please, forgive me.” His eyes were red, desperate, like he was on the verge of tears. Just then, his phone started vibrating again. Call after call. He rejected every one. On the last one, he answered and shouted into the phone, “Isabelle, you’re insane! Stop calling me!” Then, as if to prove his loyalty, he blocked her number right in front of me. “Amrita, I only love you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Please… don’t leave me.” I’ll admit it. In that moment, I wavered. We’d been together for three years. There were real feelings there. And our families were a good match; marrying him was, on paper, the most logical choice. I didn’t say anything. I just drove us back to our old apartment. Allen was a model of devotion all evening. “Amrita, from now on, I’ll keep my distance from that psycho, I swear… And I’ll lose the weight before the wedding, I’ll get back to my goal weight!” He swore up and down. “If I ever contact her again, may I drop dead!” His promises echoed in the quiet apartment. But when I woke up in the middle of the night, his side of the bed was empty. I called his phone. He said there was an emergency at work, he had to go in. But I could hear it. A faint, almost imperceptible sound of a woman crying in the background. A bitter smile touched my lips. He really did think I was a fool. I hung up and sent him a two-word text: We’re done. His calls started immediately, one after another. His texts flooded my screen. [Amrita, answer the phone! You’re killing me!] [Babe, please don’t do this.] [I’m begging you, just pick up…] But by morning, he still hadn’t come home. 3 I packed my bags and left the apartment where we had built a life for three years. It was my father’s birthday. The last thing I wanted was to worry him, so I plastered on a smile and pretended everything was fine. The house was full of guests. Just before dinner, the doorbell rang. It was Allen, holding a gift-wrapped box. He greeted my father with a cheerful, “Happy birthday, Dad!” I didn’t want to make a scene in front of our family and friends, so I swallowed the bile rising in my throat and played along. Halfway through the party, he wrapped his arm around my shoulders, putting on a show for everyone. He leaned in close, his voice a low whisper only I could hear. “Amrita, stop being mad,” he murmured. “I promise, this was the last time. I already told that psycho to get out of our house for good.” He was in the middle of his earnest, heartfelt promise when he froze. He hadn’t noticed her. The very psycho he was talking about was standing in the doorway. Isabelle’s eyes were bloodshot, and she looked like she was about to collapse. When she called his name, her voice was a raw, broken rasp. Allen was stunned. His body went rigid, a look of pure, cornered panic on his face. “What are you doing here? Isabelle, are you trying to ruin my life?” he hissed. “We broke up years ago! If you keep harassing me, I’m calling the cops! Now get out!” He shoved me behind him, a shield between me and her, as he glared at Isabelle. But Isabelle was beyond reason, her tears turning into a hysterical frenzy. She latched onto his sleeve. “No! I’ll follow you for the rest of my life! You’ll never get rid of me!” Her voice rose, drawing the attention of every guest in the room. “I’ve thought it all through, Allen! I still love you! I can’t live without you! The thought of you marrying another woman is killing me! Call me pathetic, call me shameless, I don’t care! I’m not letting you go!” Allen’s face cycled through shades of red and white. I just wanted the floor to swallow me whole. The room was filled with the whispers and stares of my family’s closest friends. A wave of dizziness washed over me, the world tilting on its axis. With the last shred of my composure, I turned to Allen. “Take your drama outside. Get this crazy woman out of my house.” Isabelle let out a cold, sharp laugh. “Oh, that’s easy for you to say, isn’t it, Amrita? Who do you think drove me crazy in the first place?” She pointed a shaking finger at me. “Allen and I had ten years together! If it weren’t for you, we’d be married by now! You think he actually loves you? He’s only with you for your family’s money and connections! If you were like me, crawling out of the mud, do you think he’d even give you a second look?” “Isabelle, shut your goddamn mouth!” Allen’s voice was strained with panic. He grabbed her arm and dragged her out of the house. As I watched them disappear, the dam inside me finally broke. I ran to the bathroom and threw up until there was nothing left. The three years of our relationship felt like a diseased growth on my body. Cutting it out was going to hurt. When I finally stumbled out of the bathroom, my stomach empty and my body trembling, the guests were all gone. Only my parents were left, waiting by the door. I collapsed into my mother’s arms, the sobs I’d been holding back tearing from my throat. “Dad, Mom… I don’t want to marry him.” My mother held me tight, her hand gently rubbing the back of my neck, just like she did when I was a little girl. “Okay, honey. We won’t. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” “All we want is for you to be happy, sweetheart,” my father added, his voice thick with emotion. I cried until I couldn’t breathe, my head pounding with a dull ache. And then, the world went black. I had a fever of 104. By the time they got me to the hospital, I was burning up. I drifted in and out of a long, disjointed dream. When I finally woke up, it was dark outside. My parents had stepped out to get me some food. I was alone in the quiet room. I finally felt like I could breathe again. And then the door creaked open.

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After eight years of marriage, my husband’s secretary, Jenna, posted a picture to her Instagram story. She was behind the wheel of his limited-edition sports car, with a caption that dripped with insinuation: “What my boyfriend can’t give me, my boss can!” I’d just commented, “Try not to let it affect your work,” only to find she’d already blocked me. Immediately, my phone rang. It was my husband, Julian, and his voice was a furious storm. “I just lent Jenna the car for a spin! Did you really have to send people to run her off the road? She just called me, crying her eyes out, terrified she was about to crash! How could you be so vicious? I’m warning you, Erika, stop this insane jealousy!” He hung up before I could utter a single word of defense. That very night, driving that same car, Jenna hit me. I was two months pregnant. The impact threw me to the ground, and the car dragged me for what felt like an eternity—ten, maybe fifteen yards. The pain stole my voice, but I could feel the warm, horrifying spread of blood beneath me. A bystander rushed to my side and called an ambulance. Just before they wheeled me into surgery, a message popped up on my phone. It was from Jenna. A picture of a brand-new Porsche. I knew. It was Julian’s way of making it up to her. But this time, I didn’t care. I looked at the doctor beside me and my voice was a slow, steady rasp. “The baby… I’m not keeping it. Let it go.” … A vise-like cramp in my abdomen had me drenched in a cold sweat. As the nurses wheeled me out of the operating room, the sheets beneath me were stained a deep, horrifying crimson. Right on cue, Julian called back. I wanted to ignore it, but my fingers, trembling with pain and shock, fumbled and hit the answer button. His enraged voice exploded in my ear. “Didn’t you see my texts? I told you to apologize to Jenna! Are you playing dead after pulling a stunt like that?” “She’s been crying for a solid hour! I can’t believe this is who you’ve become. I’ve told you a hundred times there’s nothing between us! Do you have to be so goddamn unreasonable?” “Erika, you’re such a disappointment! Where are you? You have thirty minutes. Get your ass over here and apologize to Jenna!” A bitter, broken laugh escaped my lips. I had actually thought he might be calling because I’d missed our dinner plans, worried something had happened. But no. It was all for his precious secretary. My shattered heart hit rock bottom. “Disappointed?” I whispered, my voice a fragile wisp of air. “I’ve been disappointed in you for a very, very long time. Does she need an apology? I’ve already given her my husband. If that’s not enough compensation, I don’t know what is.” Before I could hang up, he roared, “What is that supposed to mean? Who do you think you’re talking to with that sarcastic tone? If this is the kind of person you are, I can’t imagine what you’d turn our child into!” “You keep this up, and you won’t even see the baby when it’s born! I’ll have my parents raise it!” Tears streamed uncontrollably down my face. I slammed the end-call button. Did he care about the baby? No. He only cared about his own ridiculous pride. In that moment, I almost felt a strange sense of gratitude toward Jenna. Without her, I might not have found the resolve to let this baby go, to sever the one tie that would have bound me to Julian forever. Once I was settled in my room, I called over the kind man who’d brought me to the hospital and transferred $50,000 to him as a thank you. As the anesthesia wore off, the pain returned, sharp and relentless, blanching my face. I curled into a ball on the bed, my gaze fixed on the IV bag. Drip. Drip. Drip. Each drop was like a second of my love for Julian, draining away into nothing. In my haste, I hadn’t checked which card I’d used for the transfer. I’d accidentally used the supplementary card Julian gave me. At midnight, his call ripped me from a pain-induced haze. “What the hell did you spend fifty grand on? Did you hire a male model at the dinner party? Just because we had a fight, you go on a ridiculous spending spree?” His fury burned away the last vestiges of sleep. I glanced at my phone’s payment screen. “I used the wrong card,” I said, my voice flat. “I’ll transfer it back to you. Is that all?” He started to snap back, but I cut the call. Bitterness and scorn flooded me. Eight years of marriage. He could buy his secretary a Porsche without blinking, but he’d interrogate me over a $50,000 charge. There was truly nothing left to fight for. A major business gala was in two days, and I couldn’t afford to be hospitalized for long. When we first got married, Julian and I had an arrangement: he handled the internal operations, and I was his face for all external networking and social events. The upcoming gala was my golden opportunity, the perfect stage to build the connections I’d need to go independent after the divorce, taking half the company with me. The next day, feeling marginally human, I got a prescription from the doctor and checked myself out. On my way to pick up my gown for the event, I saw that Jenna had posted to her Instagram story again last night. She was off-roading in the desert in her new Porsche. The man in the passenger seat was mostly out of frame, but I saw his wrist. I recognized the Rolex instantly. It was my anniversary gift to him last year. Jenna’s caption read: When a man knows how to treat you right. The wear and tear on that Porsche from a single desert joyride would probably cost more than $50,000 to fix. My jaw tightened, the last bit of warmth in my eyes turning to ice. Of course. For Jenna, Julian’s generosity knew no bounds. Three years ago, when I was drowning in stress, I’d asked him to go for a late-night drive with me, just to clear our heads. He hadn’t even looked up from his phone, busy texting her. He’d said it was boring, a waste of time he needed for work. Now I realized it wasn’t the drive he found boring. It was me. Every second with me, now that the love was gone, was torture for him. I closed the app, navigated to my browser, and canceled the custom gift I’d ordered for him this year. Then I unfollowed the store’s page. I wouldn’t be shopping there again. I arrived at the high-end boutique where I’d had my gown tailored. As I walked in, a message from Julian popped up. He was attending the gala tomorrow night as well. I glanced at it and deleted the chat. The thought of having him as my escort made me sick. “I’m here to pick up my order,” I told the sales associate. She froze, her eyes darting nervously. “Miss Vance,” she began hesitantly, “your husband called earlier… He said you needed the measurements altered? Is this gown still for you? Because the sizing…” My brow furrowed, a cold dread creeping in. Before I could respond, Julian’s voice came from behind me. “Erika, what are you doing here? Oh, right, the gown. No need. I’ve already had yours sent to the house. This one’s for Jenna. It’s her first time at an event like this, she needs to look her best.” He offered a tight, condescending smile. “Consider it my apology to her on your behalf.” I turned to see Jenna standing beside him, a triumphant smirk on her face—the same smug expression she’d worn the night she ran me down. She clearly thought I was too afraid of angering Julian to ever report her to the police. She was wrong. I’d just been too busy to send her to jail. But her presence was a useful reminder: now was not the time to show my hand. I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms. The sting of pain brought a sharp clarity. “First she wants my man, now she wants my dress?” My voice was laced with derision. “It’s a hundred-thousand-dollar gown. Do you really think she can pull it off?” Julian’s face instantly hardened, his eyes flaring with suppressed rage. “Can you stop being so unreasonable? It’s just a damn dress, Erika! What’s the big deal if you let Jenna have it?!” He still had no idea I’d lost the baby. Jenna tugged at his sleeve, her voice a soft, tremulous whisper. “It’s okay, Mr. Hayes. I’m just a secretary, I… I don’t have any right to go to the gala anyway. I appreciate you wanting to show me a new world, but the gown should go to Erika. I’m fine, really…” Tears welled in her eyes, a picture of fragile innocence. It worked like a charm. Julian’s protective instincts surged. “Wrap it up,” he snapped at the associate. “We’re taking it now.” “Fine, give it to her,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. My eyes, dripping with scorn, locked onto Jenna’s. “I paid for it. A hundred grand. Grand larceny should be enough to put her away for a few years. She should enjoy it while she can.” The double meaning hit its mark. Panic flashed in Jenna’s eyes. She shot a terrified glance at me, and the crocodile tears became a genuine torrent. “I don’t want it! I don’t want it!” she cried. “Erika, please don’t be angry, I didn’t mean it! I’ll never go to one of those galas again, I’m not worthy!” She covered her mouth and fled the store. Julian slammed a glass of water the associate had offered him onto the counter. He shot me a look that could kill. “Are you satisfied now?” Then he turned and chased after her. I looked at the stunned sales associate. “Please wrap it up,” I said calmly. “I have a delivery address for you.” I wrote down the shipping address I’d found for Jenna in Julian’s online shopping history and handed it to her. Then I selected another, equally stunning gown that wouldn’t need alterations. Back at the office, Julian and Jenna were nowhere to be found. Perfect. I got the company’s transaction records from accounting and forwarded them to my lawyer, asking him to calculate my half of the settlement. Then I called a friend at the precinct and filed a police report. I recounted the hit-and-run that caused my miscarriage and sent him the footage I’d copied from the car’s dashcam. I’d installed it when our marriage first started to crack, thinking it would catch evidence of an affair. I never imagined it would serve a much greater purpose. By the time I finished, night had fallen. The painkillers were wearing off, and the familiar, grinding pain returned to my abdomen. As I stood up, a warm gush of fluid made me go pale. I swayed, grabbing the back of the sofa to steady myself before collapsing onto it. I fumbled in my purse for the pills the doctor had prescribed. Maybe I’d overdone it today; the scrapes on my arm from the accident were beginning to bleed again. Back home, I disinfected and re-bandaged my wounds, then packed a single suitcase with the things I wanted to take. I left the suitcase by the door and sank onto the sofa to rest. I opened my phone and saw a new post from Jenna, uploaded three hours ago. The location tag was the most exclusive hotel in the city. The photo showed a sweeping view of the skyline at night. In the reflection of the floor-to-ceiling window, two figures sat at a table, bathed in the romantic glow of candlelight. Her second-to-last supper, I thought grimly. Even though this was the very hotel I had begged Julian to take me to countless times, I felt nothing looking at the picture. It was true. A heart can die in a single instant. Just as I was about to lock my phone, the front door opened. Julian walked in, his eyes landing on me with a rare gentleness. “See? This is much better,” he said softly. “There was no need to make such a scene in public. I was a bit harsh today, don’t take it to heart. Jenna got the gown you sent. She was very happy.” A silent, mocking smile touched my lips. I opened a message from my friend at the precinct. He’d reviewed the evidence. It was solid. He asked when I wanted them to make the arrest. My fingers moved across the screen. Tomorrow night. I sent the gala’s address along with it. Noticing my silence, Julian must have sensed he’d gone too far these past few days. A flicker of guilt crossed his face. He actually seemed to humble himself. “Let’s go to the gala together tomorrow. It’s been a while. Besides, Jenna wants to see what it’s like.” I gave a curt, emotionless nod. A drama, after all, is always better with a bigger audience. Usually, when I gave him the cold shoulder, he’d respond with even more hostility. But this time, he said nothing more, walking upstairs to the bathroom with a look of contentment, completely oblivious to the packed suitcase by the door. I laughed, a dry, self-deprecating sound. As I was about to retreat to the guest room, Julian came out of the bathroom, still wrapped in a cloud of steam. His gaze was heated, and the air thickened with a cloying intimacy. I didn’t move as he leaned in close. His warm breath tickled my ear as he murmured, “Honey, I’m so glad I have you…” Then it hit me. A wave of Jenna’s perfume wafted off him. My stomach churned violently. I shoved him away. “Not tonight,” I said, my voice ice. I turned and walked into the guest room, shutting the door on his furious, sputtering insults. “What the hell is wrong with you now? Is this never going to end? Stop playing hard to get! You think I’m actually dying to touch you? You’ve let yourself go, so don’t act like you’re some prize!” On the other side of the door, I leaned my back against the cool wood and slowly slid to the floor. The memory of a young man’s warm voice faded in my ears, growing more distant with every passing second. Erika, we’ll be together forever. I’ll give you everything you’ve ever wanted. I’ll make you the happiest woman in the world… The next day, I took care of some paperwork at the police station, then had a professional do my hair and makeup. When it was time, I headed for the gala. The opening remarks had just concluded, and the ballroom was already buzzing. I moved through the crowd alone, weaving between business titans, casually pitching the vision for my new, independent company. Across the room, Julian had his arm around Jenna, proudly introducing her to the guests. The gown stolen from me clung to her body like a second skin, making her look every bit the canary in a gilded cage. I was by a corner table, swapping my champagne flute, when she approached me, heels clicking on the marble. Before I could speak, she lifted her own glass and poured its contents down the front of her dress. A theatrical shriek pierced the air. “Ahh!” Heads turned. All eyes were on us. “Erika, what are you doing?” she wailed, tears streaming down her face. “You already gave me this dress! Why would you do this?” In an instant, Julian was there, charging across the room toward me. He didn’t give me a chance to explain. He swung his arm back and slapped me across the face, his voice a furious roar. “I thought you’d changed, but you’re still the same crazy bitch! If you can’t behave, then get the hell out! You are never attending one of these events again!”

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To cure my ‘sister’s’ supposed depression, Carter Thorne—the man who was my childhood sweetheart, my fiancé, the one who swore he’d marry no one but me—secretly married her instead. So I turned around and accepted the arranged marriage my family had brokered for me. I married Declan Blackwood, the undisputed king of New York’s elite, a man who had silently loved me for years. For seven years, he worshipped my very skin. He was a man starved, clinging to me every night as if I were air. If I had asked for the stars, he would have plucked them from the sky for me. I thought I had finally found my happiness. Then, one night, tangled in the sheets after we’d made love, I overheard him on the phone with his best friend. “Jasmine’s an international star now. When are you finally dropping Seraphina?” “What’s the difference?” Declan’s voice was a low murmur. “I’m with someone I don’t love anyway. Besides, I have to keep Sera in check, stop her from ruining the happiness Jasmine fought so hard for.” My world tilted. Later, in his study, I opened his laptop. In a hidden folder, a universe of obsession unfolded: a hundred thousand photos of Jasmine Vance. A hundred unsent love letters. The delusion was shattered. It was time to wake up. I bought a life-sized silicone mannequin and orchestrated a fire. From this life to the next, in heaven or in hell, our paths would never cross again. 1 The order confirmation for the items I needed glowed on the screen. I shut the laptop. Just three more days. Then, according to plan, I would disappear from Declan Blackwood’s world forever. I turned, and my breath caught. I was staring straight into his smiling, almond-shaped eyes. He must have stood on the porch for a while, letting the winter chill and the lingering scent of nicotine fade from his coat before daring to approach me. He wrapped his arms around me from behind, his warmth a familiar ghost. “Why are you still up?” he murmured into my hair. His embrace, once my safest harbor, now sent a bitter acid creeping into my heart. For seven years, he had put me on a pedestal. Everyone in our circle knew Declan Blackwood kept me, his darling wife, tucked away in a gilded cage. He’d told me it was love at first sight, that he’d adored me from afar for fourteen agonizing years. At our wedding, he’d stood at the altar with tears in his eyes, vowing that marrying me was a dream he never wanted to wake from. He knew my history. He’d used the full force of the Blackwood empire to go to war with Carter Thorne, the man who’d abandoned me. He’d sabotaged Jasmine’s career to avenge me, snarling that he despised anyone who had ever caused me pain. He was a phenomenal actor. So good that I, an award-winning actress myself, never saw the performance. A bitter memory surfaced. In the throes of passion, he’d always call me “Sera,” but the word was always slurred, thick on his tongue. I thought it was just a quirk of his passion, a sound lost to ecstasy. Now, I replayed it in my mind. J-Sera… Jasmine. The truth was a shard of ice in my gut. I lowered my head, secretly wiping a tear from the corner of my eye with my thumb. He didn’t notice, lost in his own narrative. “Your sister won the big award. Let’s just stay home from the industry party tomorrow. I don’t want you to see her and get upset.” I silently counted. This was at least the hundredth time he’d used an excuse like this to keep me out of the limelight. I used to think it was his possessiveness, a flaw I indulged with a sigh, even letting it convince me to step back from my career at its peak. Now I knew the truth. It was all to clear the stage for Jasmine. “I have a meeting with Maestro Bellini tomorrow,” I said, my voice steady. “He wants me for his next leading role. I can’t miss it.” “It’s fine, we’ll skip it. I’ll smooth things over for you,” he said, his tone dismissive. “My wife never has to work another day in her life if she doesn’t want to. I can provide for you.” But it was never about the money. I had told him once that starring in a Bellini film, earning it on my own merit, was my lifelong dream. He’d sworn then, with a fire in his eyes, that he would move heaven and earth to help me achieve it. He hadn’t forgotten. It was just that Jasmine wanted the role, too. So my dream had to become her stepping stone. Seeing my silence, he softened his tone, trying to coax me. “Sera, come on, don’t be difficult. There will be other parties, other roles. But our time together… that’s what’s precious, isn’t it?” He kissed my temple. “The day after tomorrow is our seven-year anniversary. I’m planning a surprise you’ll never forget. How does that sound?” A ghost of a smile touched my lips. “It sounds perfect,” I said. “And I’ll give you my greatest gift in return.” Our seven-year itch, Declan. We’re not going to make it. From now on, you’ll be alone. Only you. My gift to you is my absence. 2 In the dead of night, after Declan was fast asleep, his arm draped possessively over me, I slipped out of bed and went to his study. The words “I don’t love her” and the digital shrine on his computer were enough. They should have been enough to sever any lingering hope. But seven years of shared memories, of whispered secrets and easy laughter… they weren’t a phantom. They were real. I couldn’t just let them go. My feet carried me to the small, sleek safe under his desk. It was Pandora’s box, humming with a dark, seductive energy. I’d asked him about it before, during lazy afternoons spent tangled up in his office. He would always deflect, teasing me, telling me to guess the combination but never giving a hint. I had tried my birthday. His birthday. Our wedding anniversary. All wrong. Now, with a trembling hand, I typed in Jasmine’s birthday. For one heart-stopping moment, I prayed I was wrong. The safe clicked open. My heart plummeted into an icy abyss. Inside, nestled on a bed of black velvet, was a pair of matching rings. The style was dated, but they were polished to a brilliant shine, clearly cherished and meticulously cared for. On the inner band, an inscription: DB & JV. Declan Blackwood & Jasmine Vance. The strength drained from my body, and a pain so sharp it felt like my heart was being carved from my chest stole my breath. Even a fool would see the truth now. Declan had never, not for a single moment, loved me. The next day, for the first time, I defied him. I went to the party. A shadow crossed Declan’s face, but he didn’t try to stop me. He simply tightened his grip on my hand. “Alright, you can go. But you’re so beautiful, Sera, you have to stay by my side. If that sister of yours tries anything, I need to be there to protect you.” He played the part of the loyal guard dog to perfection. But I knew he was just afraid I’d slip my leash and steal Jasmine’s thunder. That wasn’t my intention. I was about to stage my own death. This was my last chance to say a silent goodbye to the directors and writers who had believed in me. The moment we arrived, all eyes were on Jasmine and me. “The lead in Bellini’s next film has to be Seraphina Hayes,” someone whispered nearby. “She has the talent, and with Declan Blackwood backing her, it’s a sure thing.” Jasmine overheard. Her face soured, and she stomped over to the group. “What makes you so sure? That role is mine!” The crowd wasn’t impressed. “You’re good, but you don’t have Seraphina’s experience. A little humility goes a long way.” “Yeah, even if she’s married to a Thorne now, she’s up against a Blackwood. It’s pretty obvious who has the upper hand.” “Honestly, you win one little award and think you own the town?” Jasmine was practically vibrating with rage. “You’ll see! You’ll all eat your words!” She shot me a venomous glare. “Enjoy it while you can. We’ll see who’s laughing at the end of the night. Tramp.” With a final sneer, she shoved me. Hard. I stumbled, my knee cracking against the sharp corner of a table. Tears of pain sprang to my eyes. Beside me, Declan, my sworn protector, acted as if he’d seen nothing. He simply let it happen. I dropped my gaze, fighting the wave of acid rising in my throat. Just then, the lights in the grand ballroom dimmed. It was time for the official announcement. “Let’s give a huge congratulations to… Jasmine Vance!” “And a special thank you to our celebrated, billion-dollar-box-office screenwriter—Linden—for his support! He has graciously waived his fee for this script and even invested thirty million dollars, all to ensure that Jasmine could bring his story to life. For she is, in his words, his only leading lady, his muse!” Jasmine ascended the stage, bathed in a celestial glow. She took the microphone, her eyes finding mine in the darkness, and delivered the final blow. “You see, Seraphina? After all these years, you still can’t win against me.” “Loser!” She stood under the spotlight, a queen surrounded by her court, radiant and triumphant. I looked at Declan beside me. He was still holding my hand, but his eyes were shining with vicarious joy for Jasmine’s victory. I felt a dark, bitter laugh bubble up inside me. Yesterday, in his study, I’d found the manuscript. On the title page, the dedication was scrawled in his familiar hand: “For J.V., my muse.” Linden. The pen name he used. The name under which he poured out his soul for another woman. Even though I knew this was coming, seeing it unfold before my eyes was a fresh agony, a dull, crushing weight on my chest. Maestro Bellini found me by the bar, his expression sympathetic. “Don’t worry, my dear. There will always be a place for you in my films.” I managed a weak, sad smile and shook my head. “Thank you for your kindness, Maestro. But I’m afraid… there might not be another chance.” 3 Declan, playing the part of the oblivious, comforting husband, pulled me into his arms. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll fund a few movies for you to star in, just for fun. How does that sound?” he whispered. “Tonight, I have a surprise for you on the waterfront. My love for you is more important than any movie role.” The words that once tasted like honey now felt like cloying, stale sugar on my tongue. But to avoid suspicion, I forced myself to swallow them down. “Okay.” After making my rounds and expressing my gratitude to the industry veterans who had supported me, I was ready to leave. Declan dismissed our driver, intending to take me for a drive himself. But just as he started the engine, his phone buzzed. I glanced over. I recognized the number. It was Jasmine. His expression shifted instantly. He looked at me, his eyes filled with a calculated hesitation. “Sera, something urgent just came up at the office. Would you mind going to the waterfront by yourself?” I feigned a moment of surprise, then smiled. “Of course not. You go take care of business.” He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead, then turned and headed back into the glittering ballroom. I started the car, but I didn’t drive toward the waterfront. I drove home. To the Blackwood mansion. The time had come. All my energy now would be focused on preparing for my death tomorrow. I gathered every trace of our life together. Online, I scrubbed our history, deleting backups from the cloud until nothing remained. The physical memories, I piled together to be burned. My phone lit up. An anonymous number. The first message was a photo: Declan, drunk and flushed, passed out on a sofa next to a smirking Jasmine. [He has a sensitive stomach, you know? But he still took all those shots for me. Hope you’re not mad, sis. ] [He may fight with the Thornes in public, snatching my roles, but did you know that behind the scenes he compensates me a hundred times over? Do you know why?] [Did you know Declan was my little shadow growing up? He’s always loved me. Marrying you was just his way of keeping you on a leash!] [You didn’t really believe someone like him would just fall in love with you for no reason, did you? Don’t be naive.] [He told me that every night, he has to imagine it’s me he’s holding just to get through it. He also said you’re just Carter’s sloppy seconds, that you’re disgusting for not even saving your first time for him!] The texts fell like an avalanche of poison. My heart was a frozen stone. I felt nothing. I simply moved faster, methodically preparing the scene. I positioned the mannequin in the bedroom, ensuring it would be consumed by the flames, then drenched the house in gasoline. After forwarding every one of Jasmine’s texts to the most ruthless paparazzi team in the city, I snapped my SIM card in two and tossed the pieces into the bushes. I pressed the ignition button on the remote detonator. Then I turned and walked toward the distant horizon. The path ahead was dark, but that didn’t matter. I knew, eventually, I would walk into the dawn. Declan, meanwhile, was completely oblivious. He looked down at Jasmine, his voice laced with an unconscious note of reprimand. “Jasmine, what are you doing here? My anniversary with Sera is tomorrow. This will make her suspicious.” Jasmine’s eyes welled with tears. “Are you blaming me?” Panic flared in Declan’s eyes. He rushed to reassure her. “No, of course not. That’s not what I meant. I’m sorry, Jasmine.” She crossed her arms with a sniff, offering a grudging acceptance. The Blackwood family butler’s number flashed on his screen. Declan silenced it with a frown. After the fifteenth call in a row, a cold dread began to creep up his spine. “What is it?” he answered, his voice sharp. “Sir, it’s terrible… the missus… she… she set the house on fire and killed herself!” “We did everything we could, sir… but there was nothing to be done.”

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The night my mother jumped into the Silverveil, I finally understood her mortal madness. Some loves are worth drowning for. Others deserve to die. Everyone said my mother, Isolde, was blessed by fate. A mere mortal, yet she had won the eternal devotion of my father, Valerius, the Celestial God of War*. (*Note: The highest-ranking general in the Celestial Realm.) But my mother once told me, “A woman must never debase herself. It doesn’t matter who your father is. If the day comes that he betrays me, I will return to my mortal world, and we will never meet again.” Mother taught me mortal women bleed red, not gold like goddesses—but our pride weighs more than celestial jade. Because of her teachings, when I married the Celestial Emperor, Orion, we carved our names together into the Fate-Mirror Stone, vowing to grow old as one. But in the end, my father still betrayed her, moving the celestial, Lyra, into his sacred hall. And the Emperor, my husband, betrayed me too, bringing home a fragile Jade Hare, a shape-shifting spirit who dwells in moonbeams. On the day my father remarried, my mother leaped into the Silverveil River and vanished from the Celestial Realm. And as I watched the Emperor clasp the hand of his new love, I knew it was time for me to leave as well. 1 My mother was once the most beautiful woman in the Celestial Realm, but recently, a shadow had fallen over her. When we met, her face was gaunt, her eyes clouded with an exhaustion she couldn’t hide. “Seraphina,” she said, her voice a whisper, “your father has fallen in love with someone else.” I was stunned. “Mother, you and Father are the celestial couple everyone admires. How could this be? He has always cherished you. Are you sure you’re not mistaken?” A bitter smile touched her lips. “I was a fool. How can a mortal’s fleeting beauty ever compete with the ageless immortality of a goddess?” My mother, a mortal, had married a god. Though his divine essence protected her, slowing the decay of time, she was not of the celestial race. In recent years, fine lines had begun to trace their way across her face. I learned the truth then. After giving birth to me, her body had weakened. My father took a long retreat to the Argent Peaks, where he met Lyra. No one knew that they had fallen in love at first sight, spending a century of bliss together and secretly having a child. Though I was my father’s daughter, half of my blood was mortal. My celestial power was inherently flawed, destined never to reach its full potential. My father was the God of War. How could he tolerate having only one child with an incomplete spiritual root? He treated us well, my mother and me, but his pride was a stubborn, unyielding thing. He craved an heir worthy of his title, one with pure, noble blood. “I thought he was in seclusion, meditating,” my mother said, her voice trembling with the memory of her pain. “All that time, I was alone, enduring the whispers and scorn of the heavens. They mocked me for being mortal, unworthy of being the God of War’s wife.” Her voice broke. “A mortal woman, raising a child, tormented by the Empress herself, who claimed I had seduced a god who had dedicated his life to discipline! I fought for years to win their respect, and just when I had, your father brought home another child, claiming he and Lyra had pledged their lives to each other long ago in the mountains!” “Seraphina, I told you, if he ever betrayed me, I would return to my world. That time has come. I hope you won’t try to stop me.” I squeezed her hand, my voice firm. “Mother, I am your flesh and blood, raised by your teachings. Whatever you decide, I will support you.” A relieved smile touched her lips. “And you?” she asked softly. “How are things between you and the Emperor?” I sighed, sinking to my knees. “I have failed you, Mother. I have failed the marriage you so carefully chose for me. The Emperor has brought home a Jade Hare. He dotes on her. I have already decided to leave him.” A flicker of pain crossed her eyes. The Emperor, Orion, had been her handpicked choice for me. As the daughter of the God of War, I had been a prized bride, sought after by the finest men from all the realms. The Dragon Prince of the Eastern Sea, the Empress’s own nephew, gods from every corner of the heavens—they had all vied for my hand. But my mother had only one condition: whoever married me must have no other woman for all of eternity. She had been a princess in the mortal realm, she said, and had seen too many men discard their wives for concubines, their hearts fickle and cruel. “A woman’s life is bound to a man’s. When he changes his heart, it is a tragedy for both women.” I was her beloved daughter. She wanted nothing more than a life of peace and happiness for me. The Dragon Prince was handsome but notoriously promiscuous. The Empress’s nephew had returned from his mortal trial with a secret lover already hidden in his palace. The high gods of the Celestial Realm were free spirits, unwilling to be tied down by marriage. Only Orion, the Celestial Emperor, was different. He had slumbered for a century on the Adamant Spire, and in the first moment of his awakening, he had asked my mother for my hand. “Seraphina,” he’d said, his voice filled with a thousand years of longing, “for a millennium, you are all I have dreamed of.” He claimed to have fallen in love with me after a single, fleeting glance a hundred years ago. He treated me with unparalleled tenderness. He was a being of pure, cold light, and in his presence, I too fell in love. On our wedding day, a river of crimson silk stretched across the heavens. He promised to love me for all eternity. We carved our names together on the Fate-Mirror Stone. But that was only the first century. Now, he had found a new love. 2 Orion returned from a three-day trip to the Adamant Spire with a Jade Hare. She was a pitiful creature, her body covered in wounds. “I found her at the foot of the mountain,” Orion explained. “She was being attacked by a spirit beast. She wouldn’t have survived. I saved her out of pity, and now the grateful thing insists on following me.” As he spoke, the hare transformed into a beautiful young woman. I saw no harm in it and suggested she could stay in our palace, Seraphina Hall, as an attendant. Orion’s smile froze. He looked at me in disbelief. “Seraphina, you have always been the kindest of heart. The Jade Hare has such a humble background, and you would make her a servant? If she becomes an attendant, with her weak spiritual power, she will surely be bullied.” The Jade Hare leaned weakly against him, her eyes instantly welling with tears. “I have been bullied my whole life. The Emperor promised me a safe place, but is it to be your servant?” I was confused. “There are tens of thousands of attendants in the Celestial Realm. Do you consider them all servants? Besides, you saved her. She can’t just stay in Seraphina Hall with no title or purpose.” Tears streamed down the Jade Hare’s face as she knelt at my feet. “Lady Seraphina, I know my status is low, but I understand that a single drop of kindness must be repaid with a flood of devotion. The Emperor saved my life. I am willing to serve him, asking for no title, only the chance to repay his grace!” I finally understood. I smiled thinly. “Orion, what is it you want?” He turned away, his tone unnatural. “Seraphina, she has nowhere else to go. Just let her stay…” “When did I say she couldn’t stay? I said if she wants to remain, she can be an attendant in Seraphina Hall. Or,” my voice turned to ice, “are you planning to take her as your consort?” He missed the frost in my eyes completely, his face lighting up with joy. “You would really be willing? I knew you were the most reasonable one. If your mother can accept Lyra, surely you and the Jade Hare can live in harmony.” “Seraphina, you know my heart belongs only to you. This is just a title, to give her a place in the Celestial Realm so she can live safely. You wouldn’t mind, would you?” You think he loves you? A God of War needs heirs with divine blood, not half-breed weaklings! The Jade Hare looked up, overjoyed. “Lady Seraphina, they say you are the daughter of the God of War, who protects all the realms. His daughter is truly as broad-minded as he is!” I said nothing. They had already made their decision and painted me as the magnanimous, benevolent wife. Orion wrapped an arm around the Jade Hare’s waist, lifting her tenderly. “Your leg is still injured. You shouldn’t be kneeling for so long.” She gazed at him through her tears, a radiant smile breaking through. “For you, my Lord, I would die a thousand deaths.” I watched this play of profound love, my heart growing cold and barren. So, this was how a life debt was repaid. With one’s body. Before I could even process it, Orion spoke again. “The night air is cold. I’ll take her to her room now. You should rest early too, Seraphina.” He carried her into the palace, striding past me without a single glance. I stood frozen, waiting, hoping he would remember. Tonight was the full moon. The night my mixed blood, celestial and mortal, warred within me, causing excruciating pain. Every full moon, it was Orion who transferred his spiritual energy to me, who stayed by my side. But tonight, he was worried about a wounded leg, about the cold night air. He had forgotten my pain. I looked up at the palace name, “Seraphina Hall,” and laughed a hollow laugh. “Once, the bright moon shone upon the iridescent cloud returning home,” I whispered. He had named this palace for me, his “iridescent cloud.” Now, another lived within its walls. The moon was still there, but the heart had changed. If that was the case, why should I stay? 3 Orion and my father held their wedding ceremonies on the same day. The procession of bridal litters stretched from my father’s hall all the way to mine. The night before, my father visited my mother’s chambers for the first time in a long while. He had shed his elaborate robes and wore a simple white tunic, just as he had on the day they first met. My mother was painting her lips in the mirror. “My lord,” she said coolly, “shouldn’t you be with your new love? Why have you come to me?” My father was silent for a long time. Then he took a jade pendant from his robes. In the lamplight, it glowed with a soft, ethereal light. My mother froze. “Do you remember?” he asked. “On our wedding day, you gave this to me as a token.” “I want to use it now to ask you to give Lyra a place. She was with me in the Argent Peaks for so long, she bore my son. I cannot let her live her life without a proper title.” He was speaking of their promise in the mortal realm. During his mortal trial, my father had saved my mother from enemy soldiers. In gratitude, she had given him the jade pendant. “If ever you have need of me, show me this, and I will do everything in my power to help you.” My mother laughed, but a tear traced its way to the corner of her mouth. “Valerius, I thought this was a token of our love.” My father frowned, quickly wiping the tear away. “Isolde, I love you very much, but you cannot expect me to be faithful to you alone. Even mortal men have multiple wives. I am the God of War! Can I not have a soulmate, a child who can inherit my title?” He took her hand, his voice softening. “Don’t worry. Lyra is a gentle soul, she doesn’t like to compete. She and the child will live in the side palace. She will get along with you.” My mother said nothing, her eyes just shimmering with unshed tears. My father’s patience wore thin. “Isolde, it has been thousands of years! When will you stop being so willful?” I watched it all unfold in my water mirror, a deep sorrow settling in my heart. My mother was right. When a man loves a woman, he will say the most beautiful things in the world to prove his devotion. Once he stops loving her, the world will offer a million justifications for his betrayal. When he had loved her, she was pure and admirable. Now, she was willful and unreasonable. I turned away. Orion was sleeping peacefully beside me, his features as serene as ever. He stirred, murmuring my name in his sleep. “Seraphina… don’t go.” He had been good to me, in his way. He and the Jade Hare had never crossed a definitive line; he never stayed the night with her. But I knew him better than anyone, and I saw the affection he himself hadn’t yet recognized. The way his brow furrowed when she cried, the slight upturn of his lips when she was near, the way his hand would reach out, as if in longing, when her dress brushed past him. I didn’t understand. How could years of shared love be worth less than a chance encounter? Less than the scenery of a mountain, less than a new infatuation, less than three days at the foot of a mountain? He and my father—one had betrayed with his body, the other with his heart. My mother and I were done waiting. I smiled and pushed his hand away. My silhouette in the mirror merged with my mother’s. We spoke the same words. “In a place without love, why linger?”

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A massive snakeskin appeared in the building’s hallway. I immediately posted in the residents’ group chat, warning my neighbors to be careful. “Lock your doors and windows! A snake can swallow something several times its size. This one is huge, and after shedding, it will be hungry and hunting!” My neighbors were dismissive, mocking my paranoia. The building manager quickly followed up: “There are no snakes in this building. We ask certain residents to refrain from fear-mongering.” Hiss. Then what was that sound, slithering in the hallway right now? 1. I grew up with my grandfather in the mountains, so I knew a snakeskin when I saw one. When the cleaning crew found it, everyone else thought it was a prank, a cheap rubber prop. How could a real snake get into a luxury high-rise like this? But I could tell. This was a fresh shed. The snake that left it behind was now even bigger. I had to warn them again. “Lock your doors and windows! A snake can swallow something several times its size. This one is huge, and after shedding, it will be hungry and hunting!” The response was a wave of ridicule. We were in the heart of the city, miles from any real wilderness. If there was a giant snake on the loose, someone would have seen it by now. Mom_from_606: “908, stop being so dramatic, you’re scaring people! This is a luxury apartment building, not a shack in the woods. Where would a snake even come from?” She had a point, but what if someone was keeping it as a pet? It wasn’t unheard of. I typed again, unable to let it go. Me (908): “Maybe it’s someone’s pet. Just please be careful.” The chat flooded with snake emojis. No one was taking me seriously. Only the resident in 707 seemed to show a flicker of concern. Resident_707: “If someone was keeping a snake that big, don’t you think its owner would have been eaten by now?” That quieted the chat for a moment. The building manager stepped in with a placating, yet passive-aggressive tone. BuildingManager: “There are no snakes in this building. We ask certain residents to refrain from fear-mongering.” Just then, my food delivery arrived. I went to the door to grab it. A blood-curdling scream echoed from the hallway, followed by silence. I tried calling the delivery guy. The call wouldn’t go through. A primal fear rooted me to the spot. I crept to the peephole. A moment later, I saw a single foot being slowly, unnaturally dragged out of my line of sight. I pressed my ear against the door, my heart pounding. Over the frantic beating in my chest, I heard a clear, distinct sound. Hiss. No snakes? Then what was in my hallway? 2. The delivery guy was probably gone. Whatever was out there had taken down a grown man in seconds. This snake wasn’t just big; it had to be venomous. I immediately called Animal Control, then frantically typed in the group chat: Me (908): “DO NOT LEAVE YOUR APARTMENTS! Something happened to the delivery guy. Wait for the professionals to arrive!” Mike_1008: “Is this some new kind of prank? Maybe the delivery guy is just messing with you.” Resident_707: “I can’t stay in, I have a package to pick up.” Mom_from_606: “I have to take my baby out for his daily walk in the sun!” You can lead a horse to water… Fine. Let them be idiots. I couldn’t save people who didn’t want to be saved. They would have to face the consequences themselves. All I could do was lock my doors and windows and wait. Then, a horrifying thought struck me. My best friend, Beth, was supposed to come over in two hours. I quickly started a video call to tell her to stay away. She answered with a huge grin. “Surprise! I’m already in your lobby! Aren’t you going to come down and greet me?” “Don’t come up! Get out of the building! There’s a snake!” The video feed froze. From the background, I could see she was already in the elevator. The signal had dropped. If she just stayed in the elevator and went back down, she’d be fine. I sent her a flurry of texts, praying she wouldn’t step out. At the same time, the once-jovial group chat exploded. The building manager posted a grainy screenshot from a security camera. A massive, shadowy serpent was slithering through the halls. Their nonchalant attitude vanished in an instant. An official notice went out telling everyone to remain in their apartments. They started demanding to know if anyone was keeping a pet snake. The chat filled with accusations and panic, but no one confessed. If this snake was wild, it would be even more aggressive. I could only hope the professionals would get here in time. My phone buzzed. A new message from Beth. “Almost on the ninth floor! Come out and help me with my bags!” My warning had arrived too late. She hadn’t seen it. Her chat bubble showed she was typing… Then, a frantic knocking echoed from my front door. Was it her? 3. “Beth, is that you?” I yelled, inching toward the door. No answer. Just more knocking, louder and more desperate now, as if something was chasing the person on the other side. Suddenly, my phone rang. It was Beth. “Oh my god, Shawna!” she gasped, out of breath. “I heard your voicemail just as the doors opened! I slammed the button and got the hell out of there!” If Beth was out of the building, then who was at my door? My stomach churning, I crept back to the peephole. It was the young woman who lived across the hall. Her lips were blue, her eyes darting around in terror. We exchanged pleasantries sometimes; she seemed nice enough. She’d been texting in the group chat just a few minutes ago. What was she doing out here? “Help me!” she screamed, her voice cracking. She started pounding on my door with her fists, the sound booming through the hallway. “I locked my keys inside!” Her cries were so pitiful, so desperate. My heart went out to her. My hand was on the deadbolt when I heard her whisper to someone else, her voice trembling. “Don’t bite me… I’ll find you more food… I promise…” Then a terrified shriek. “No!” Hiss. Silence. I didn’t have the courage to look through the peephole again. I could imagine the gruesome scene all too well. When the initial wave of terror subsided, a cold realization washed over me. The girl across the hall… she was trying to feed me to the snake to save herself. If I had opened that door, I would be dead. Another victim in the serpent’s path. But wait. The snake had already taken the delivery guy. Why was it still hunting? Unless… there was more than one. 4. I relayed what happened to the building manager, telling them to check the cameras and pinpoint the snake’s location. The group chat was in chaos, residents demanding action. But the management was useless. They claimed the situation was too dangerous to send anyone in; we just had to wait for the professionals. Then came another update. The snake that had been on camera had vanished. They had searched every feed and couldn’t find a trace of it. Someone offered a wild theory: “What if this thing is supernatural? It knows how to avoid cameras.” The chat descended further into panic. [Unknown User]: “Is someone in this building raising this thing? It seems to know the layout of every floor so well.” I suspected the same thing. Someone was hiding it. Suddenly, the Mom from 606 turned on me. Mom_from_606: “Maybe it’s 908! The thief crying ‘thief’!” After everything I did to warn them, this was the thanks I got. I decided to stay quiet. A moment later, the manager posted a photo of the first snakeskin again, asking everyone to confirm it wasn’t from their pet. I zoomed in on the image. At first glance, it looked the same. But the patterns… they were completely different. My theory was correct. There wasn’t just one snake. And the snake that shed this second skin was even bigger. I was still debating whether to say anything when a new message popped up from the manager. The snake had been caught. They attached a video of a small python being wrangled by a man in uniform. It was obvious the snake in the video was far too small to have shed either of the massive skins. But the residents didn’t care. They were just relieved. The chat filled with thumbs-up emojis, praising the management for their efficiency. I didn’t know what to do. I still had to live here. If I exposed their lie, they would make my life hell. More importantly, I had already decided to stop getting involved. But my conscience won. I laid out my reasoning for them all to see. The manager was the first to attack, calling my claims nonsense and insisting the snake was caught. The property manager himself called me directly, and the moment I answered, he unleashed a torrent of abuse, even threatening me. “You residents are nothing but trouble! I’m warning you, if you want to keep living here peacefully, you’ll shut your mouth!” I recorded the entire call. Just in case. The group chat split into two factions. One side believed me and urged caution. The other trusted the management and was already preparing to go about their day. I messaged Beth, telling her to go home and not to linger around the building. She loved drama, and I was terrified she’d get too close and get bitten. But she hadn’t replied since she sent me an emoji twenty minutes ago. I remembered my balcony overlooked the front of the building. I rushed over and peered down. She wasn’t there. Maybe she’d gone home? Then my eyes caught something. A massive, scaled tail, dangling from the balcony of a unit below me. And the sliding glass door to that apartment was wide open. 5. I snapped a photo and posted it in the group chat, warning the residents on the floor below. The Mom from 606 exploded. She recognized the baby bib hanging on the balcony railing. It was hers. A stream of frantic voice messages flooded the chat. “That’s my apartment! Someone help my baby!” “My mother-in-law and my son are the only ones home! Why didn’t she close the window?!” The chat went silent. Everyone knew that responding meant getting involved. No one was willing to take that risk. The Mom tagged the building manager over and over, but they had gone silent again. I couldn’t stand it. I messaged her privately, telling her to call home immediately and tell her mother-in-law to hide somewhere safe until the snake left on its own. Ten minutes later, she sent me a friend request. Then she started spamming me with video calls. I didn’t answer. In a situation like this, it was every man for himself. I didn’t want to get dragged any deeper into this mess. She then took to the public chat, demanding I help. Mom_from_606: “908, why are you ignoring me? Just go check on my son and mother-in-law. Bring them to your apartment where it’s safe!” Are you kidding me? Even if the snake wasn’t in the hallway, there was no guarantee it wasn’t still in her apartment. Going there would be a suicide mission. The best thing to do was wait. I had already done more than enough by warning her. I steeled myself and ignored her. Mom_from_606: “@Shawna_908, why aren’t you answering my calls? Are you just going to let them die?” Sensing a new target for their fear, other residents chimed in, criticizing me. [User]: “Yeah, you saw it, you have to help!” [User]: “We’re all neighbors here. Help them out! She’s a single mom with a baby, don’t be so selfish, 908!” The hypocrisy was staggering. A minute ago, they were all playing dumb. Now they were saints. I was furious. I fired back: Me (908): “Anyone who just typed, why don’t YOU go? I warned everyone multiple times to lock their doors and stay inside. They didn’t listen, and now it’s my fault? @Resident_608, you’re right next door. @Resident_605, you’re across the hall. It’s an easy trip for you. GO!” The conversation shifted instantly. The resident in 608 claimed they weren’t home. The one in 605 quickly agreed with my original point. The Mom was still frantic. Her latest private message was a desperate plea. “Please, my baby isn’t even a year old. Please help me!” She forwarded a video her mother-in-law had just sent her. The baby was wailing, his face red and scrunched up. The grandmother paced back and forth on the hardwood floor, trying to soothe him. I quickly told her to have her mother-in-law stop moving. Snakes are sensitive to vibrations. She thanked me profusely, then sent a dozen more video clips, repeatedly asking if I could see the snake. Then she suggested her mother-in-law add me on a video call so I could “keep an eye on the baby” for her. The audacity of some people. I refused, telling her to contact management and Animal Control if she was that worried. Speaking of which, where were they? It had been over twenty minutes. Suddenly, a new message from the Mom. “My mother-in-law was bitten! Go save her!” How? I had scoured the video she sent. The room was clear. A tearful voice note followed. “My mother-in-law said the baby wouldn’t stop crying… I thought it would be safer for them to come to your apartment than stay in there with the snake… so I told her to make a run for it. She was bitten as soon as she opened the door.” If it weren’t for the innocent child, I would have blocked her. She basically sent her own mother-in-law to her death. “She’s still breathing! She managed to crawl back inside with the baby. Please, go save her! You know about snakes, you must know how to treat a bite, right?” I’m not a doctor. Her only hope was an ambulance. Her crying intensified. “The city marathon is today! All the roads are blocked. An ambulance can’t get through! Not even a fly could get down our street.” So that’s why no one had arrived. The marathon. But why today of all days? She then sent me a screenshot from a video call. In the blurry image, I could see the shadowy form of a massive snake. I was right. And next to the snake, just for a split second, I saw a pair of sneakers. 6. I had a strong, chilling premonition. This snake wasn’t just a pet. It was being controlled. The attacks were deliberate. The grandmother in 606 was hovering between life and death, and the Mom was having a complete breakdown in the group chat. Finally, the management responded: BuildingManager: “Resident in 606, please remain calm. We are dispatching personnel to check on the situation immediately.” Strangely, a few moments later, it was my door that started knocking. I peered through the peephole but saw no one. Yet the knocking continued, rhythmic and persistent. Then it stopped. I heard it again. The soft, dry, slithering sound of a snake. Hiss. Was the snake… knocking on my door? How could it knock with such a perfect rhythm? As I was trying to wrap my head around the impossibility of it all, the management sent another update. BuildingManager: “We have confirmed the presence of two large pythons in the building. One has now been successfully captured. The resident of 606 is being transported to the hospital. We have brought in professional snake handlers who will be conducting a door-to-door search. Please cooperate and open your doors when they arrive.” They even attached a photo of a captured snake. Suddenly, the incompetent, ghosting management team was a model of efficiency. The group chat erupted with praise. But I noticed something odd. The few residents who had been actively speaking up just a moment ago had gone completely silent. My phone rang. It was Beth. The moment I answered, the knocking at my door started again, faster and more urgent this time. I was certain it was a person. A wave of relief washed over me. A man’s voice called out, impatient and gruff. “Open up! Building management! We’re here for the snake!” My hand was on the doorknob when Beth’s voice screamed through the phone. “SHAWNA, DON’T OPEN THE DOOR!”

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1 My wife of three years, in a marriage that had been sexless from the start, was pregnant. And she wanted the world to know. She’d made a thousand copies of the ultrasound report, announcing to anyone and everyone that she was carrying another man’s child. I heard she and her friends were even placing bets, wagering on how spectacularly I would lose my mind. “Remember how Christopher begged to marry you? He knelt before your mother for hours, right there on the street for all to see.” “He’s going to go absolutely ballistic when he finds out you’re pregnant.” Clarissa’s face twisted in disgust at the memory. “We don’t even have a marriage license. What kind of husband is he? He’s nothing but a dog who knows how to grovel at my mother’s feet. If it weren’t for him, I would have been free years ago!” Fearing I might retaliate against the child’s real father, she had her security detail break my leg. Then they threw me in the cellar and left me there for seven days and seven nights. By the time they let me out, she was already in another country, getting married to someone else. This time, I didn’t fight. I calmly called her mother. “Mrs. Sterling,” I said, my voice hollow. “The five-year pact… I’ve lost. I’ll keep my promise. I’ll disappear forever.” Two freshly printed marriage certificates slapped down on the table in front of me. “Caleb and I are legally married now,” Clarissa said, her voice dripping with venom. “All that’s left is the ceremony. You’ve clung to me for three years. Isn’t that enough?” My eyes stung, transfixed by the smiling photo of them on the official paper. Clarissa and I had a wedding, a grand affair, but she’d refused to ever make it legal. Seeing my stunned silence, a triumphant smirk played on her lips. “I’ve already moved Caleb in. And just so we’re clear, I married him because I’m carrying his child.” Her gaze dropped to my right leg. “If you have a shred of dignity left, you’ll make things clear to my mother. But if you keep harassing me,” she added, her voice turning to ice, “I won’t hesitate to have your other leg broken.” My injured leg, left untreated for seven days, had gone from searing agony to a dead, heavy numbness. “Fine,” I managed to choke out, closing my eyes. She hadn’t expected me to agree so easily. A flicker of surprise crossed her face. “I’ll move into the guest room,” I said, my voice flat. “He’s the father. It’s only right he stays in the master bedroom to take care of you.” I meant every word. A week ago, when she’d paraded her pregnancy, making sure everyone knew the child wasn’t mine, she’d turned me into a city-wide joke. Three years. Three years, and I still couldn’t melt the ice around her heart. “And don’t worry,” I added. “I’ll handle your mother. I won’t bother you again.” Clarissa’s brow furrowed in suspicion, but her expression quickly returned to its usual coldness. “Don’t even think about pulling any tricks. I’ve given the staff a vacation, so you won’t be moving into the guest room.” She paused, a cruel smile spreading across her face. “I’m pregnant. I need someone to look after me. From now on, you’re on call, 24/7.” She said it so matter-of-factly, as if savoring some twisted new game, waiting to see me break. I opened my mouth, but in the end, all I could manage was a slight nod. The game seemingly bored her already. She glanced at my leg and called for the family doctor. When he saw the state of my leg, his face went pale. Without treatment, the wound had begun to rot. The men Clarissa had sent hadn’t just broken it; they’d tortured me, driving nails through the bone just for the fun of it. The doctor’s expression was grave. “Mr. Hayes, this injury needs immediate hospital attention. If it’s as bad as it looks, it may require amputation.” My fist clenched at my side, knuckles white. Clarissa, however, just scoffed. “He’s a grown man. A little scratch and you’re talking about amputation? At that rate, no one would survive.” She let out a derisive laugh and turned back to her room. “Don’t think this will make me pity you,” she called over her shoulder. “Even if you died, I would never forgive you.” 2 The bedroom door wasn’t fully closed. Caleb was in there with her. Soon, the sounds of their laughter, followed by the soft, wet sounds of kisses, drifted into the hall. The pity in the doctor’s eyes was a physical blow, sending a chill through my entire body. I forced myself to stand, trying to block out the noises, but they only seemed to grow louder, echoing in my head. I didn’t snap out of it until Mrs. Sterling arrived. She took one look at my leg, and her face darkened into a thundercloud. Her gaze shot to the half-open bedroom door, and she moved as if to storm in and confront Clarissa. I reached out and stopped her. “Mrs. Sterling,” I said, my voice raspy. “The pact we made three years ago. I concede.” “You were right. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t win her over.” “Once the contract is terminated, I’ll leave. I will never come back.” Mrs. Sterling, a woman I had only ever known as formidable and unyielding, looked at me with an uncharacteristic flicker of sympathy. Her voice softened. “Are you sure, Christopher? The five years aren’t up yet. If you give up now, you’ll have absolutely nothing.” “Think about it,” she urged. “I’ll give you a week. Come see me then to sign the termination papers.” I said nothing. She was right. To marry Clarissa, I had swallowed every last ounce of my pride. I had begged, pleaded, and in the end, I had signed over my entire inheritance—everything my parents had left me—to the Sterling family. Just then, Clarissa must have realized someone was there. She and Caleb emerged, their clothes hastily straightened. Her face went rigid when she saw her mother. “Mom? What are you doing here?” Caleb stood beside her, a picture of obedience. “Hello, Mom,” he chirped. Mrs. Sterling let out a cold laugh, her eyes fixed on her daughter. “And where do you keep Christopher? He grew up with you, Clarissa. Have you forgotten everything his parents did for us? Do you have no respect for their memory?” Clarissa’s pale face flushed a deep, angry red. She shot me a look of pure hatred. “Mom, he called you, didn’t he? I knew he was up to something!” She turned on me. “Christopher, I can’t believe how shameless you are. You were the one who begged to marry me. I never once said I loved you. You’re the one who trapped me, who destroyed my freedom!” She defiantly grabbed Caleb’s hand, lifting her chin. “I’m pregnant, and that’s a fact. If you want to stay in my life, you’d better get used to playing the part of the cuckolded husband!” The insolence in her voice made Mrs. Sterling tremble with rage. She raised her hand and slapped Clarissa hard across the face. “One day,” she seethed, “you will regret this.” It was the first time in all these years she had ever taken my side. Before, she only had eyes for the business empire my parents had built, never caring about the war between Clarissa and me. Caleb rushed to Clarissa’s side, his face a mask of concern. “Ma’am, I know you look down on me now, but one day you’ll see how much I truly love Clarissa!” Mrs. Sterling laughed, a sharp, mocking sound. “Your love? Can it compare to what Christopher gave up? All you do is spend our family’s money!” Humiliated, Caleb lowered his head. After her mother left, Clarissa unleashed all her pent-up fury on me. “Don’t think for a second that just because my mother is on your side, you’ve won. I will never, ever look at you again. Get that through your head!” She grabbed Caleb’s arm. “Let’s go, Caleb. The air in here makes me sick.” As she stormed past, she deliberately slammed her shoulder into mine. I watched her go, and for a moment, the girl I remembered from our childhood grew hazy, almost disappearing completely. We’d known each other for over twenty years. The girl who used to follow me everywhere was gone. Now, whenever I closed my eyes, all I could see was the scene from three years ago. Me, on my knees, begging her mother to let me marry her. And Clarissa, bursting into my house late that night after she found out, her voice raw with grief and rage as she screamed at me, asking why. 3 “Your parents aren’t even in the ground yet, and you’re already thinking about marrying me? How can you be so vile, so depraved?” “I have a boyfriend, Christopher! Why are you and my mother deciding my future for me? What gives you the right?” It was the first time I truly understood how little I meant to her. How despicable I was in her eyes. The very next day, Clarissa’s boyfriend broke up with her and vanished without a trace. She blamed me for all of it. She walked through our wedding ceremony like a ghost, her heart filled with nothing but resentment. And it was then that her mother took me aside. “Christopher,” she’d said, her tone all business. “We have our agreement, but you and Clarissa cannot be legally married.” “She’s right about one thing. As you are now, you are not worthy of her.” After my parents died, I had no power, no status. I was nothing compared to the soaring fortunes of the Sterling family. I let out a long, slow breath. Maybe my decision was wrong from the very beginning. After that day, Clarissa stopped coming home. Caleb, however, made his presence felt, sending me messages designed to torment me. [Mr. Hayes, this is my first time being a father. I was hoping I could ask you for some advice.] [You’re so much older than me. You must have more experience with these things, right?] The constant, smug provocations grated on my last nerve. I couldn’t sleep with her, couldn’t even touch her. For three years, we slept in the same bed with a wooden plank between us. If I accidentally brushed against her, she’d act so disgusted she’d nearly vomit, scrubbing herself raw in the shower as if to flay my touch from her skin. The incessant buzzing of my phone finally broke me. I picked it up and called him. “Is your phone just for show, or did you forget how to use it to look up information? Did Clarissa not tell you we’ve never been intimate? Or are you just texting me to gloat? Because if you are, you’ve got the wrong guy. Clarissa and I are finished. I sincerely wish you both the best—” It wasn’t Caleb’s voice that answered, but Clarissa’s, sharp and full of derision. “Christopher, do you really think I’d fall for your pathetic act again? The moment I’m out the door, you call my mother to come and fight your battles.” “I’m so glad I had your leg broken,” she spat. “God knows what you would have done to Caleb otherwise.” She hung up, the dial tone buzzing in my ear. My hand, clutching the phone, tightened until my knuckles were white, then fell open, limp and powerless. When I made that pact with her mother three years ago, I should have known I would lose. I just never imagined I would lose this badly. I had planned to just wait quietly until it was time for me to leave. But the next day, Clarissa and Caleb stormed back into the house. Her eyes were bloodshot and her clothes were disheveled, as if she’d been in a fight. Her gaze, when it landed on me, was filled with a murderous rage. Before I could react, Caleb threw himself to his knees in front of me. “Mr. Hayes, I know you’re angry with me. If my messages upset you, I apologize. I was wrong.” “But you can’t convince Mrs. Sterling to make Clarissa get an abortion! That baby is a miracle for us. We’ve wanted it for so long.” My head swam. I opened my mouth to defend myself, to say I’d done no such thing. The next second, a searing pain exploded across my cheek. Clarissa slapped me again and again, so hard her own palm was red and trembling by her side. She snatched a pair of scissors from the table and pointed them at me, her voice a hysterical shriek. “You make me sick, Christopher! You disgust me!” “Three years ago, you forced me to marry you against my will! And now you want to kill my child? What kind of poison have you been feeding my mother?” I touched my burning cheek, my lips moving, but the words wouldn’t come. “I didn’t…” 4 Clarissa wasn’t listening. She had lost all reason. She lunged, plunging the scissors deep into my shoulder. Blood bloomed across my shirt, staining her hands crimson. She seemed to freeze, shocked that I hadn’t moved, hadn’t even tried to defend myself. When sanity finally returned to her eyes, the scissors slipped from her grasp and clattered to the floor. She stumbled back a step, and Caleb quickly steadied her. Wiping tears from her face, she stared at me, her voice breaking. “Christopher, just stop loving me, please. Let me go.” “I’m going to show you,” she whispered, her voice gaining a feverish strength. “I’m going to show you how happy Caleb and I can be.” She left, leaning on him for support. All the physical pain vanished, eclipsed by the agony of her words. They were like the scissors, twisting deeper and deeper with every beat of my heart. The “happiness” Clarissa spoke of was a multi-million-dollar campaign to launch Caleb into the public eye. She bought reporters and media outlets, plastering their perfect love story across every screen and billboard in the city. She paraded him around like a prized possession she had kept hidden for too long. She threw a lavish party at the house, introducing Caleb to all her major business partners and investors. These were things she had never, not once, done for me. Through it all, I remained calm, simply counting down the days. The week Mrs. Sterling had given me was up today. After this, Clarissa and I would likely never see each other again. “You’ve got some nerve, Christopher,” Clarissa’s voice cut through my thoughts. “You know this party is for Caleb, yet you’re still shamelessly hanging around.” She strode toward me, Caleb and a few of her friends trailing behind her like a royal court. A wave of mocking laughter erupted. “Clarissa, honey, when you have a leech that just won’t let go, sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind and just rip it off.” “What is he now, anyway? The third wheel?” “You know, the Hayes family used to be one of the biggest names in this city. Such a shame what happened. All of them gone, except for him. No wonder he’s so desperate to cling to you.” The words seemed to grate on Clarissa. She shot me a look of pure loathing, as if my very presence was a stain on her reputation. She ordered her security to throw all of my belongings out onto the lawn. Then, in front of everyone, she made her grand proclamation. “Three years ago, Christopher Hayes, a man with no shame and no dignity, begged me to be with him. He tore me away from the love of my life, and now he’s trying to kill my child.” “From this day forward, I, Clarissa Sterling, have nothing to do with Christopher Hayes. The Sterling family and the Hayes family are finished!” Her powerful voice hammered into me, and for a moment, my thoughts seized. I leaned against the wall for support, the hand behind my back trembling uncontrollably. Compared to the dazzling star she was now, I truly was nothing. I wasn’t worthy of her. Seeing my silence, Clarissa’s expression softened as she turned and took Caleb’s hand. “I’ve decided Caleb and I are getting married, a real wedding this time, in twenty-two different countries—”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393381”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel