Category: English

My fiancé, Carter, was a prominent psychiatrist, but he fell in love with his patient, Audrey. I didn’t hesitate. I went straight to the hospital administration and reported their relationship. Carter was disciplined. Audrey, overwhelmed by her depression, committed suicide. And I became the target of Carter’s misplaced rage. He pushed me off a balcony. “Falling in love with Audrey was my mistake, but what gave you the right to kill her?!” I was reborn. I woke up to hear eighteen-year-old Carter sending a voice message to Audrey. He was clarifying our relationship, his tone dripping with affection. “Harper and I are just neighbors. You’re the one I like, my little rose.” Separated only by a door. I crumpled his cancer diagnosis report in my hand, the paper crinkling under my grip. 1 Carter and I grew up together. Our families were close. The adults used to joke about us getting married someday. Almost everyone assumed we were a couple, just waiting for one of us to make it official. During the winter break of our senior year of high school, Carter and I both got physicals. I was perfectly healthy. All my vitals were normal. But Carter’s blood work showed early-stage leukemia. The moment I got the report, I ran straight to his house and we looked at it together. Thanks to early intervention, the cancer hadn’t spread. He was in remission within a year. In my past life, I spent that year by his side through chemotherapy, missing my own college entrance exams. I retook the exams a year later, but I didn’t get into my dream university or my preferred major. Carter, however, having recovered, overperformed on his exams. He somehow managed to get into the most prestigious pre-med program in the state. And after graduating, he became a highly sought-after psychiatrist. This time, I absolutely refused to sacrifice my future and my youth to help a scumbag grow. I left his medical report on the console table by the front door of the Carter house. I also left the spare key I used to come and go as I pleased. Carter’s dad was always busy with business dinners, leaving early and coming home late. His mom loved playing bridge and socializing; she wouldn’t stop until she had played her fill for the day. As for when they would actually see that medical report? God only knew. 2 I went back home. Seeing my parents looking so much younger, happily discussing something, felt surreal. My dad saw me come in. He told me they were thinking about buying a new house. The house we lived in was assigned to my grandparents by their old company. By the time I was a senior in high school, three generations of our family had lived in it. In my past life, my parents had finally scraped together enough for a down payment on a new place. But because I refused to abandon Carter when he got sick, and because the Carter family couldn’t afford his medical bills, I begged my parents to use a portion of their down payment to help them out… This time, a genuine smile spread across my face as I enthusiastically replied at the dinner table: “That’s great! Are you thinking about the new development on the Southside?” My parents exchanged a surprised look. They had looked at several developments, and the one on the Southside was exactly the one they liked best. We currently lived on the Eastside. My school and my parents’ offices were all downtown. The commute was manageable. But… My mom asked with concern: “Will the move disrupt your studies?” I smiled sweetly. “Mom, for the second semester of senior year, I can just live in the dorms. It’s just…” My mom’s eyes paused. “…It’s just that I won’t be able to help you guys pack and move.” Hearing that, my mom visibly breathed a sigh of relief. After dinner, I went to my room to study. In reality, I kept my ears open, listening to my parents chat in the living room. My dad, while washing dishes, said to my mom: “Kids are so unpredictable. Weren’t you worried? But you tested the waters today, and she said it wouldn’t affect her, right?” My mom, still a bit anxious, replied: “I hope so. Moving further away… do you really think Harper is willing to leave Carter behind?” My dad was more optimistic. “Harper has always prioritized her future. Don’t worry, she knows what she’s doing.” 3 In my past life, after Carter and I started dating, my mom was always a bit skeptical of our relationship. I asked her why. “You’re always the one giving, and Carter is used to just taking. That kind of dynamic isn’t stable. Once…” Back then, I cut her off before she could finish. I was completely blinded by my love for him. I thought, we’ve known each other for over a decade; how could we not be stable? Until the day he stood me up when I was trying on wedding dresses. I went to the hospital to find him. I saw him lifting Audrey onto his desk, the two of them kissing passionately. Heh. There’s no such thing as an unbreakable bond in this world. I secretly took photos through the crack in the door. Then I immediately emailed them to all the hospital administrators. If Carter had cheated with anyone else, I might not have been so enraged, so desperate to see them both ruined. But the person he cheated with was Audrey. In my past life, Carter had inexplicably fallen in love with Audrey, a poor transfer student, during our senior year of high school. For her, Carter took the blame for their underage relationship, and his grades plummeted. Skipping class, getting called to the principal’s office, getting suspended for fighting… he committed every cardinal sin a high schooler could. And what did Audrey do? She turned Carter’s high school years upside down and nearly destroyed his future. But the moment Carter was diagnosed with cancer, she immediately cut ties with him. Later, I tried to track her down for Carter while he was battling cancer. But the Audrey I found was completely different from the gentle, resilient girl I remembered. She was involved with several wealthy heirs. Looking at Carter fighting for his life in his hospital bed, I couldn’t bring myself to tell him the ugly truth. … Years passed, and Carter and I were about to get married. And yet, they managed to find their way back to each other. My years of devotion to Carter were like a child I had raised with my own hands, only to watch it drown in the river of time. My heart bled. So, I wanted them to hurt more than I did. But when the scandal broke, I didn’t get to see Carter grovel or apologize. Audrey died. It was entirely unexpected. I had no idea her depression was real. I thought it was just another manipulation tactic to win Carter back. Just like in high school, when she played the pitiful poor student, yet I saw her casually getting into a Porsche parked on the corner. She was too good at playing the victim. But Carter blamed me for everything. He fought with me. “Falling in love with Audrey was my mistake, but what gave you the right to kill her?!” I fought back fiercely, refusing to back down. “Did I really kill her? Why don’t you admit that you were a terrible doctor and failed to cure her? “Carter, you have no professional ethics! Is sleeping with your patient your idea of treatment? “You had a fiancée, and she knew you were getting married. You two made the mistake first, why are you blaming me?!” Carter laughed and cried hysterically, on the verge of a mental breakdown. But that didn’t stop him from grabbing me with one hand and shoving me out the window. 4 The rapid sensation of falling from a high altitude. It perfectly matched the terror in my dream. I woke up screaming. My parents heard me and immediately rushed into my room to comfort me. “Harper, what’s wrong?” “Don’t be scared, it was just a nightmare.” Just a nightmare? I looked up, saw the concerned faces of my parents, and wiped the sweat from my forehead. “Mom, Dad, can we move as soon as possible?” My parents exchanged a look and quickly agreed. After being reborn, I had two simple goals. Wait for Carter to die. Make sure he dies far away from me. 5 Before the new semester started, I stayed locked in my room. When Carter texted or called, I looked at them but never replied. I muted any group chats involving him. Since his family lived right upstairs from mine, he came looking for me a few times. He either got the cold shoulder or was politely brushed off by my parents. Carter thought it was strange. In the past, I always made him the center of my universe, revolving my life around him. My sudden disappearance definitely threw him off. But his life was quickly filled by Audrey. On his social media, he actually started posting about going out to the suburbs early in the morning to pick vegetables, taking photos of the sunrise from a rusty produce truck, and sharing funny stories about selling vegetables at the farmer’s market… At such a crucial point in our senior year, he somehow had the free time to run from his downtown home all the way to the suburbs to help Audrey’s family. While all the other students were burning the midnight oil preparing for the SATs, he was bathing in the morning sun and sweating in the fields. I was staying up late, my eyes red, drowning in practice tests and textbooks, trying to scrape together every precious point. He was at the farmer’s market, haggling over pennies with customers. … Every word on his social media revealed a shift in his worldview. He now viewed the days of simply studying without worrying about livelihood as boring, dull, and suffocating. The simple buying and selling at the farmer’s market seemed vibrant, passionate, and full of life to him. I couldn’t tell for a moment. Was it Audrey’s charm, or had the cancer cells already reached his brain? He hid these posts from his parents and teachers, showing them unreservedly to his classmates and friends. His friends weren’t going to just watch him throw his life away. They tried to talk sense into him, but he ended up convincing them to buy a few extra pounds of vegetables before they left. They had no choice but to go to our teachers, Carter’s parents, and even me, hoping we could help talk him down. 6 My desk mate from high school, Mia, who used to be the biggest shipper of Carter and me. She called me, sounding like she was about to explode. “What is going on with you and Carter? Over winter break, he turns into a modern-day Romeo, picking vegetables all over the countryside!” I actually found it amusing. “Don’t laugh! Did you and Carter break up?” I told Mia about Carter confessing to Audrey. “Carter and I grew up next door to each other, so we seem a bit close, that’s all. He never confessed to me, and I never said I liked him. Mia, we were never together, so we can’t break up.” Mia paused for a second, then went into full rage mode. “Bullshit! What kind of scumbag is Carter?! He remembers your period schedule, brings you heating pads and ginger tea, and you call that just being neighbors?! “When we had to choose between the humanities and STEM tracks, Carter was better at STEM. But for you, he chose humanities, fought with the counselor in the office, and eventually, you compromised and went to the STEM track with him! “Every holiday, except maybe Memorial Day, when did you ever not get him a gift? And he used to give you gifts back too! “Aren’t you guys just missing a formal confession? How did it turn into this?” … I listened quietly as Mia listed all these moments. Finally, my heart clenched. Weren’t we just missing a formal confession? In my past life, I finally got that confession at Carter’s hospital bed. Carter saw me, exhausted, falling asleep by his bed. He couldn’t resist ruffling my hair. And he whispered those words. “Harper, I do like you.” Promises are so beautiful, probably because we were too young. I thought his love was unwavering. But in reality, it was just Carter’s pity or gratitude towards me. I pulled Carter back from the brink of death with all my might, yet he easily took my life because of Audrey’s death. Who was truly unwavering in their love? Wasn’t the answer obvious? “Mia, he’s just Carter. How is he more important than the SATs?” Mia’s family was wealthy. If she bombed the SATs, she could easily be sent abroad for college. So, she could ship us without any pressure. But I couldn’t. Mia was easygoing and didn’t dwell on it. “Let the scumbag rot. Once we get to college, Harper, you’ll have your pick of hot guys!” I laughed and brushed it off. I had already wasted too much on a relationship that wasn’t worth it. Now it was time for me to reclaim my own life. 7 That night, my family was having dinner. We suddenly heard loud shouting and the sound of things smashing from Carter’s apartment upstairs. My dad stood up. He and Carter’s dad used to be colleagues. Hearing the commotion, his first instinct was to go break up the fight. My mom frowned and told him to wait. My parents exchanged a look, inevitably resting their eyes on me. I said calmly: “Dad, they’re in the heat of the moment. You should go later.” My dad gave an “Mhm” and sat back down. My mom said softly: “Word around the neighborhood is that Carter has been running off to help a girl sell vegetables. Someone they know saw him and told his parents.” My dad picked up his chopsticks again. “Oh, so that’s what’s happening.” Since it didn’t concern our family, there was no need to get involved. But unexpectedly, after dinner. Carter’s mom knocked on our door, dragging a bruised and battered Carter behind her. My parents were stunned but couldn’t exactly refuse them entry. My mom was pulled down onto the sofa by Carter’s mom, forced to listen to her cry and complain. I thought she was just venting. But Carter’s mom pointed at Carter, who was standing stiffly in the living room, and scolded: “This boy has always prioritized Harper! It’s all because of that vegetable-selling girl leading him astray that he’s acting up at such a crucial time in his senior year, neglecting his studies to go to the suburbs and help her sell vegetables! “Our families have known each other for years, and I only accept Harper! I absolutely will not let that vegetable-selling girl ruin Carter’s future! “It’s Carter’s fault for letting Harper down. You bring Harper out here, and Carter must apologize to her!” Carter’s mom was rambling incoherently. But the underlying message was that she wanted to tie my relationship with Carter in a tight knot. My mom gently brushed her hand away. “You must be out of your mind with grief. “Who is this vegetable-selling girl? What is her relationship with Carter? “And how does any of this involve Harper?” My dad chimed in as well: “Harper hasn’t left the house all winter break, nor has she seen Carter. Carter, isn’t that right?” Being called out, Carter, with an icy, handsome face, said very proudly: “Mom, stop wasting your breath. I only like Audrey! I have nothing to do with Harper!” My mom chuckled softly. “Carter’s mom, you heard what Carter said, right? “Who Carter likes has nothing to do with Harper! “Apart from being classmates and neighbors, they have absolutely no relationship!” My dad’s tone hardened as well. “He’s a senior in high school, and he’s still focusing on relationships? I’m going to go ask Arthur what he thinks about all this.” Seeing Carter undermine her and my parents not buying into her drama, Carter’s mom stopped crying and hurriedly dragged Carter away. She had come here behind Arthur’s back. If he found out, the house would be turned upside down again. As my dad opened the door, he made sure to shout after them. “Don’t come back next time!” After closing the door, he complained to my mom. We needed to move as soon as possible. These neighbors, relying on years of acquaintance, actually dared to treat his own daughter as a backup plan right to his face. Her precious Carter was a treasure, and someone else’s daughter just had to accept him? What absolute garbage!

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A reporter shoved a microphone in my face and asked, “When you turned twenty, the billionaire heir Tristan Vance set off fireworks all night for you. Have you two broken up? What do you think about the fireworks he set off for someone else tonight?” “I don’t really remember what happened when I was twenty,” I replied smoothly. From across the sea of cameras, Tristan Vance let out a mocking laugh. “Mia, it’s time you reined in that temper of yours.” I stared at him, my eyes filled with nothing but cold unfamiliarity. “Who are you?” He didn’t know it yet, but the night he lit up the Los Angeles sky for another woman… I had an accident on set. The stunt harness snapped, and I hit my head hard on the way down. I forgot him. I forgot the seven years we spent loving each other. 1 Tristan Vance proposed to me. But right after I said yes, he demanded I quit the entertainment industry immediately. The elite Vance dynasty didn’t like my identity as a Hollywood actress. To them, I was just a cheap entertainer. But I didn’t see acting as just a gig. It was my life’s work. Before I got together with him, I was a nobody playing background extras. It took me ten grueling years of blood, sweat, and tears to climb from being a nameless extra to an A-list, award-winning actress. I cared about my fans. I didn’t want to just abruptly announce my retirement and throw it all away. “I have a lot of unfinished contracts on my plate, and roles I still want to play,” I told him. “I can’t quit the industry right now.” Hearing my rejection, he turned around, took the diamond ring he had just proposed with, and casually shoved it into the hands of a newly signed rookie actress at my agency. “It’s yours,” he told her. At that moment, something suffocating lodged in my chest. My eyes burned with unshed tears. We had been together for seven years. When we first started dating, he was already the untouchable heir to a Manhattan empire, and I was just a D-list struggling actress. In the eyes of his wealthy friends, I was nothing but his kept woman, a trophy girlfriend after his money and resources. For seven years, I clawed my way to the top relying on my own merit. I became the youngest Best Actress winner and opened my own production studio. I did it all just so I could be worthy of standing beside him. I had waited seven years for that ring. And he casually handed it to a total stranger. 2 From that day on, we entered a bitter cold war. Behind the scenes, he started using his massive network to strip away my resources. He gave everything to that rookie, a girl named Chloe Jenkins. Whether it was brand endorsements, magazine covers, or the lead roles in upcoming blockbuster films—even the Best Actress-caliber script I was about to sign. He gave it all to Chloe. It wasn’t until an awards gala that I finally got a good look at the new girl’s face. She was the girl who had taken my ring that day. He was forcing my hand. He was trying to force me to yield and beg. Thinking about it made me want to laugh. I had worked so hard all these years specifically so I wouldn’t have to rely on his connections. Now, the people brave enough to actively sabotage my career were few and far between. The only person powerful enough to humiliate me like this was him. I took the initiative and texted him: [Where are you?] [The Midas Club. Come find me.] The Midas Club was an ultra-exclusive, members-only lounge where the elite rubbed elbows. He kept a permanent private VIP suite there. 3 When I arrived, he was drinking with a group of trust-fund socialites. Chloe Jenkins was there too, sitting right beside him, pouring his drinks. Liam Hayes had never liked me, and the moment I walked in, he started making sarcastic remarks. “Oh, look who it is. The great A-lister, Mia Miller,” Liam sneered. “The old flame and the new flame in the same room. Now this is a good show.” “Seven years together, only to have a rookie steal her thunder in a heartbeat. No wonder she’s throwing a fit.” “She actually thought Tristan couldn’t live without her. She overplayed her hand.” I didn’t want to listen to their gossip. To them, I had always been just a gold digger, and he was my sugar daddy. But hearing them compare me to Chloe felt like a dull knife sawing at my heart. I maintained my composure and looked at Tristan. “I want to talk to you in private.” He took a drag from his cigarette. Through the faint haze of smoke, he smiled. “Whatever you have to say, you can say it here. There are no outsiders.” Heh. He actually said there were no outsiders. He was publicly acknowledging his relationship with Chloe. Hearing him say that, Chloe’s face flushed with excitement. Her hand trembled as she poured his wine, overfilling the glass and spilling it onto his expensive slacks. Without hesitation, he let her lean in and wipe it off for him. Seeing this, my brow furrowed deeply. “Tristan, you’re trying to cut off all my paths. I still have a studio to run and payrolls to meet. Whatever issues we have between us, there is no need to drag innocent people down.” He contemptuously flicked his cigarette ash. “You’ve seen it for yourself. As long as I want to, I can create another female star just as famous as you at any moment. I told you to quit. Now that you’ve lost all your work, the problems you mentioned don’t exist anymore. Just be a good Mrs. Vance. Why do you insist on putting yourself on display for the public?” In his eyes, my hard work, my blood, and my sweat were utterly worthless. If I wanted to marry him, I had to quit, be a docile housewife, and play the role of the billionaire’s wife. The only focal point of my entire universe was supposed to be him. “I don’t want to. You should respect my choices, not expect me to just swallow whatever you force down my throat.” Tristan scoffed, picked up the crystal glass in front of him, and violently hurled it against the wall. “Mia Miller, if you insist on going against me, then get out!” The shattered glass scattered across the floor mirrored my own heart—pierced, bleeding, and fractured. Seven years. He was telling me to get out, right in front of another woman. I turned on my heel to leave. His chilling voice followed me. “Do you really think I can’t live without you? If you walk out that door right now, we are done.” I turned back in shock. I stared at him, digging my nails into my palms just to maintain a facade of calm. “Then we’re done.” He pulled Chloe closer and kissed her hard. “From today on, she is my girlfriend.” My vision blurred. Unable to watch a second longer, I practically sprinted out of the VIP suite. The moment the door closed behind me, the tears I had been holding back finally fell. I knew he was only doing this out of anger. He didn’t actually love her. Seven years ago, it was my acting that made him fall for me in the first place. Back then, I was playing a minor supporting role as a girl secretly in love with the male lead. One night, the male lead called me to his hotel room and tried to assault me. Tristan happened to be walking by. He saw what was happening, saved me, and beat the man within an inch of his life. After that, the actor was replaced and blacklisted from Hollywood. Later, Tristan started showing up on set constantly. At the wrap party, he confessed his feelings to me. Seeing my stunned expression, he looked at me with absolute adoration. He said he thought he had made his intentions obvious enough. He said he loved watching me act. He said I belonged on the silver screen. He said I was going to be a massive star one day. Now, I had achieved everything he said I would. And suddenly, he hated it. 4 After that night, Chloe Jenkins became Hollywood’s newest “It Girl.” Her momentum was unstoppable. Her face was plastered across every television screen, billboard, and subway station in the city. She dominated the trending topics online. While I, aside from one final scene left on an old contract, had absolutely no new scripts coming my way. On the night of Chloe’s twentieth birthday, Tristan lit up the Los Angeles sky with fireworks just for her. The headlines rolled in one after another: #BillionaireHeirSpendsMillionsOnCityWideFireworksForNewLove #WhoIsChloeJenkins #A-ListerMiaMillerAndHeirOver #ChloeJenkinsHomewreckerGetOutOfHollywood I looked out my window at the fireworks erupting in the empty night sky. It looked exactly like the love between Tristan and me. Brilliant, blinding, but impossible to hold onto. After all, on my twentieth birthday, he had set off fireworks over LA all night for me, too. All these years later, he was using the exact same playbook. Or maybe, he just knew it was the most effective way to hurt me. The things he gave to me, he could easily give to someone else. My agent saw the trending topics and came to check on me. “Are you and Mr. Vance really… over?” I looked down at my phone. The top comment under the trending hashtag was a tweet directly from Tristan. He wrote: [Mia and I had an amicable breakup. Chloe is not a homewrecker. She had nothing to do with it. Anyone who spreads rumors will be hearing from my lawyers.] I originally thought he was just trying to make me jealous. But seeing how fiercely he was defending her… Maybe he really did love her. Seven years was a long time. Maybe the novelty had simply worn off, and encountering a new, vibrant, obediently young woman had genuinely moved his heart. It wasn’t impossible. He certainly detached himself fast enough. But I was still hurting. Not wanting to worry anyone, I just said, “It’s over. Let’s just focus on filming.” Tonight was the absolute last scene of my final active contract. After this, it would all truly be over. But no one could have predicted what would happen next. We were filming a high-altitude wire stunt. Just as they were lowering me, the harness snapped. Thankfully, I wasn’t too high up, but on the way down, the back of my head slammed against a wooden prop table. A sharp spike of pain, the taste of copper in my mouth, and then the world violently spun out of focus. When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed. Seeing my eyes open, my agent let out a massive sigh of relief. “Thank God, you’re finally awake.” She hesitated for a moment before adding, “Should we call Tristan? This might be the perfect excuse to soften up and reach out to him. If his heart aches seeing you like this, maybe you two can get back together.” I stared at her blankly. “Who is Tristan?” She looked at me like she had seen a ghost. Unable to speak for a solid minute, she finally panicked and ran out to find a doctor. After a barrage of tests, the doctor concluded that nothing was critically wrong. I just needed over a dozen stitches in my head and could have them removed once it healed. I was free to be discharged in the morning. As for the amnesia, the doctor couldn’t give a timeline for recovery, but said it was localized amnesia and wouldn’t affect my daily life. And it was true. Aside from forgetting a man named Tristan Vance, I remembered absolutely everything else. I even remembered that I was in the hospital because my stunt harness snapped on set. 5 The moment I walked out of the hospital, I was swarmed by paparazzi. They shoved microphones in my face, their expressions practically vibrating with excitement. “When you turned twenty, the billionaire heir Tristan Vance set off fireworks all night for you. Have you two broken up? What do you think about the fireworks he set off for his new girlfriend?” I had gathered a rough outline of the history between Tristan and me from my agent. To me, it sounded like a tragic love story about two strangers. I didn’t feel much of anything. By the end of her summary, I only felt a lingering sense of indignation. Who the hell acts that arrogant and controlling? Breaking up with him sounded like the best thing that ever happened to me. I kept my answer brief: “I don’t really remember what happened when I was twenty.” That was when Tristan appeared. Pushing through the sea of reporters, he let out a mocking laugh. “Mia, is this injury just your way of creating an excuse to step down gracefully? You need to rein in your temper. Give me a genuine apology, and it’s not impossible for us to get back together.” I stared at him, my eyes filled with cold unfamiliarity. “Who are you?” The smug smile on his face froze. He took a few long strides toward me, looking down at me from his towering height. “What kind of game are you playing now? Faking amnesia to make me panic so I’ll beg you to come back?” Hearing his tone, I easily guessed who he was. “Tristan Vance?” He raised an eyebrow. “Done pretending?” He wore a custom designer suit and looked like a million bucks, but garbage was still spilling out of his mouth. “I’m not taking your ‘graceful step down.’ We broke up, and that’s that. Don’t you have a new girlfriend anyway?” I shifted my gaze a few yards away, to where Chloe Jenkins was standing, digging her manicured nails into her palms. I was simply reminding him that his current girlfriend was watching his every move. He let out an angry laugh, reached out, and grabbed the nearest camera, smashing it onto the pavement. “What the hell are you filming?! Since you want to play it like this, I hope you don’t regret it.” He turned on his heel, walked over to Chloe, and grabbed her hand, raising it in the air. He stood opposite me, glaring coldly as he addressed the media. “Let’s make this perfectly clear. I broke up with her. My girlfriend right now is Chloe Jenkins.” I offered a polite, shallow smile. “I hope everyone remembers that in the future, please don’t ask me any questions regarding Mr. Vance. Direct them to his new girlfriend. After all, the fireworks were for her. Stop bothering the ex.” Without missing a beat, I pulled open the door to my waiting van and drove off without looking back. I was so incredibly thankful for the amnesia. Even with no memories of him, my heart instinctively felt a dull, heavy ache. I didn’t dare imagine how much of a mess I would have been if I had remembered everything. 6 All my work had completely dried up. Right as I was backed into a corner, a reality TV show reached out. Without hesitation, I signed the contract. It wasn’t until I arrived on set that I realized this reality show was a complete setup. Chloe was one of the other guests, and the entire show was engineered by the producers specifically to boost her popularity. Every other celebrity, no matter their status, was expected to step aside and pave the way for her. But I couldn’t afford to breach my contract. Under my current circumstances, the penalty fee would bankrupt me. Right before the cameras started rolling, Chloe purposefully bumped my shoulder. She looked at me, her smile arrogant and triumphant. “Mia, just so you know, I was the one who begged Tristan to give you a spot on this show. I heard you’ve been incredibly free lately, with zero jobs lined up and a wide-open schedule.” “Not as free as you, apparently, since you have so much time to worry about my business.” I refused to look at her petty, gloating face and sat down in the makeup chair. She immediately glared at the makeup artist. “My look needs a touch-up. Come do mine first.” The poor makeup artist stood frozen, caught in a terrible position. Chloe’s face turned icy. She was about to snap when she glanced behind me, her expression instantly morphing into a picture of perfect, fragile victimhood. “If Mia wants her makeup done first, let her,” she said softly. “My makeup isn’t that important anyway. I just thought my eyeliner looked a little smudged, but it’s fine.” A second later, Tristan walked into the room. “I said everything on this show prioritizes Chloe,” his voice was dangerously low. He glared at the makeup artist. “Go touch up her makeup right now, or are you looking to get fired?” So that’s why her face changed so fast. Her sugar daddy had arrived. I took the initiative to bail out the terrified makeup artist. “Go ahead. I can do my own.” I had clawed my way up from the bottom. Back in my extra days, I never had a dedicated makeup artist. I was used to doing it myself. I hadn’t done it in years since making it big, but I figured muscle memory would kick in. “Faking amnesia wasn’t enough, so now you’re pretending to be blind? You don’t even know how to say hello anymore?” Tristan sneered at me viciously. Hearing this, I stood up, casually reapplying my lipstick, and kept my voice impeccably polite and distant. “Mr. Vance. I’ll leave you two alone to enjoy your romance.” Calling him “Mr. Vance” made his expression darken instantly.

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I dated Liam Carter for seven years, until his first love, Serena Sterling, returned. When the earthquake hit, the chandelier came crashing down, and without a second of hesitation, he dove to save her first. I was hit, losing my memory. When I woke up, I looked at him and asked, “Who are you?” He looked at me and said, “I’m your brother.” I glanced at the guy standing next to him—his best friend—and told him: “Since you’re my brother, you have to help me pursue Julian Hayes.” He thought I was just playing hard to get, so he agreed. Until I pursued Julian all the way to the altar. Liam crashed the wedding reception like a rabid dog. I looked at him and said, “Brother, did you come to attend my wedding?” A wave of overwhelming grief washed over him, and he closed his eyes in agony. “Don’t call me brother. I’m not your brother. Aria, you belong to me. I forbid you from marrying anyone else.” 01 Liam broke his promise to accompany me to the awards ceremony. I was initially very disappointed, but thankfully, he called and told me to meet him at The Golden Lounge for a gathering. I thought he was throwing a celebration party for me. After all, I had just won the Best Actress award I had been dreaming of for years that night. It wasn’t until I arrived that I realized the party had absolutely nothing to do with me. It was a welcome-home party for Serena Sterling. She immediately came over and hugged me. “Aria, long time no see.” I nodded politely, pushed her away gently, and shifted my gaze to the man sitting on the sofa. I asked, “So, why did you break your promise today?” He paused mid-smoke, flicked his ash, and said nonchalantly, “Serena hasn’t been back in seven years. I just went to pick her up from the airport. Doesn’t the awards ceremony happen every year?” So, his broken promise was just to pick up Serena from the airport. A bitter mix of resentment and sorrow spread through my chest. Yes, the awards ceremony happens every year, but it took me seven years to finally hold that trophy. I wanted to share my joy with him the moment I received it. But the second I held the trophy in my hands… I searched the bustling crowd for his face, only to find him nowhere in sight. Do you know how disappointed I was? He didn’t care at all. On the scale in his heart, would I always weigh less than Serena Sterling? Even though I was the one who had stayed by his side for the past seven years. 02 Serena raised her glass to toast me. “I apologize on Liam’s behalf. It was all my fault that he missed your big moment. I’ll drink this as an apology.” I clearly saw the arrogance, triumph, and the joy of a victor hiding in her eyes. I didn’t take the glass. I scoffed, “He’s my boyfriend. What right do you have to apologize for him?” Serena’s hand, holding the glass, faltered slightly, looking a bit helpless. He was the first to stand up for her. “Don’t mind her, Serena. Aria, that’s enough. It’s such a small thing, why are you throwing a tantrum?” I turned to leave. Serena said pitifully, “Aria is mad. You should go after her. I don’t mind taking a little blame, just don’t let this ruin your relationship.” One of his friends couldn’t stand it anymore. “Talk to her nicely. She always compromises for you. This time, you’re the one in the wrong.” Liam crushed his cigarette in the ashtray, looking disdainful. “If she has a problem, she can stay out of my sight forever. Who knows why she always follows me around like a stray dog, refusing to leave even when I tell her to.” I quickened my pace to leave. He was right. In the past, I was almost always the one who compromised. He would just say a few sweet words casually, and my heart would soften. But this time, I didn’t want to anymore. 03 From that day on, Liam and I fell into a cold war, and I filled my life with work schedules. But news about him and Serena still found its way to me through every possible crack. The night of her welcome party, he spent over a million dollars displaying ads on all the high-rises in the city: 【Welcome home, Serena Sterling.】 He secured the role in renowned director Arthur Chen’s new movie, Ocean of Dreams, for Serena. That role was very likely meant to be mine. We were almost at the point of signing the contract, but the other party called two days ago to tell us they found a more suitable candidate. It turned out the more suitable candidate was Serena. She didn’t study acting; she studied piano. I have no idea why she suddenly came back wanting to be an actress. A role I had to struggle for eight years in the industry even to get an audition for, she took from me effortlessly with just one word from him. I originally thought that having reached my current position, I wouldn’t have roles stolen from me like when I first entered the industry. I never expected the one to deliver the crushing blow would be my boyfriend of seven years. It hurt so much I could barely breathe. My heart ached tremendously. He should know that all these years, acting was the thing I loved most besides him. I had poured so much of my blood, sweat, and tears into it. But he didn’t care. Or rather, because the other person was Serena Sterling, he felt he could hurt me without any hesitation. When my manager saw the news, she came to ask me about it. “What’s going on? Isn’t Liam Carter your boyfriend? Why is he stealing your role for someone else? Are you two fighting?” I stared at the words scrolling non-stop on the building outside: 【Welcome home, Serena Sterling.】 It stung my eyes, making them burn and ache. She came back, and he was so happy he wanted the whole world to know. I took out my phone and proactively sent him a message: 【I guess we’re broken up now, right?】 After all these years, I was tired too. I never thought I would be the one to say those words first. A heart that couldn’t be warmed after seven years should just stop trying. He didn’t reply. I laughed self-deprecatingly: “Maybe it is a breakup.” My manager patted my back to comfort me. “You’re just too stubborn. When you two were good, I told you to coax him for some resources, but you refused. Look now, as soon as she steps in, she gets a movie with a famous director.” “Forget it, if it’s over, it’s over. With your looks, it won’t be hard to find someone better.” “There’s a gala tonight. Maybe you’ll find someone suitable there.” 04 At the gala. When Liam made his entrance with Serena, many eyes turned to me, ready to watch the drama unfold. After all, my relationship with him was public knowledge. Usually, he would bring me to events like this. Serena stopped in front of me: “Aria, you look beautiful tonight. A lot of people are staring.” Liam’s eyes darkened. He glanced around and scoffed, “Not as beautiful as you.” I didn’t want to entertain their public display of affection, so I walked away. The gala was filled with prominent figures, including famous directors and producers. I wanted to exchange contact info with a few well-known directors in the industry, hoping they would think of me if they had suitable roles in the future. When I saw Director Chen, I still wanted to try and fight for a role in Ocean of Dreams. I loved that story of a shattered romance being pieced back together too much, and there were other roles yet to be cast. I walked over and had barely exchanged two sentences when Liam interrupted. “Don’t waste your breath. Serena doesn’t really like having acquaintances on set, so you won’t get a chance.” Didn’t like acquaintances? She wasn’t even in the industry. Wasn’t this clearly targeting me? I gripped my wine glass and took a large gulp. Trying hard to suppress the resentment in my heart and the urge to slap him across the face. The setting was inappropriate. I turned to leave, but Liam grabbed my arm. “Wait a minute. When you see Serena later, have a better attitude. She’s very upset because you ignored her.” I fought back the stinging in my eyes and said coldly, “Let go. I have no obligation to coddle her feelings.” He stubbornly held onto my hand, his face showing displeasure. Serena quickly hurried over, speaking to him in a reproachful tone: “I just went to the restroom for a second, and here you are bullying Aria again.” Suddenly, the ground began to shake violently. I don’t know who shouted, “It’s an earthquake!” The guests began to scatter and flee in panic. The chandelier above us swayed precariously. The moment it started to fall. The hand gripping my wrist let go. Liam didn’t hesitate for a second to grab Serena and roll out of the way. The chandelier crashed down onto my head, blood turning my vision red. In the face of life and death, a person’s first reaction is their truest. Between saving me and saving her, he didn’t even hesitate for a fraction of a second, even though he was holding my hand. It really hurt. In that moment, the intense pain radiating from my heart far surpassed the pain in my head. The excruciating headache plunged me into unconsciousness. 05 When I woke up again, I was lying in a hospital bed. I opened my eyes to see a man wearing a white dress shirt. He had brown eyes, black hair, and was incredibly handsome. He looked like a noble Ragdoll cat. He was sitting with his legs crossed, reading a book. Hearing me stir, he looked over. When those alluring eyes met mine, I felt my heart racing. I blurted out: “Handsome, what’s your number?” He smiled. He looked even better. My heart beat faster. “Aria, stop messing around. Don’t we already have each other’s numbers?” “Aria, is that my name?” I realized my mind was completely blank. Aside from the handsome face in front of me, I knew absolutely nothing. The handsome man looked panicked. He immediately stood up: “Don’t wander off, I’m going to get the doctor.” After he left, another man walked in, holding a glass of water. He was also handsome, but his style was different from the first guy’s. He wore a sharp suit and had sharp, slightly brooding features. Looking at him, I felt an inexplicable sense of discomfort in my chest. Why were there so many handsome guys around me? His right palm was wrapped in bandages. He put down the water, looked down at me, and said faintly: “You’re awake?” I looked at Liam in confusion: “Who are you?” The corner of his mouth curved into a smirk, and no matter how I looked at it, that smile seemed to carry a hint of mockery. He said: “Why the sudden amnesia act? Don’t think this will get you back by my side.” “Do we know each other well? I really don’t remember anything, except that my name is Aria.” He leaned down slightly, closing the distance between us, and studied me for a moment: “If you want to act, I’ll play along.” He muttered something under his breath that I didn’t quite catch. “What?” He looked at me with zero seriousness and said: “I’m your brother.” The handsome guy returned with the doctor. He turned to leave. 06 The handsome guy said to my “brother”: “Liam, take good care of Aria. Stop running off to other people’s rooms. If you had waited any longer to treat Serena’s wound, it would have healed on its own.” He looked annoyed: “If you want to take care of her, you do it. Don’t you like hanging around her room anyway?” After my brother said that, he turned to leave the room. Before walking out, he glanced at me. Hurry up and leave so I can spend more time bonding with the handsome guy. Seeing me staring intently at him, he frowned, turned around, and left. Finally gone. Looking at him, I didn’t know why, but I felt extremely oppressed and suffocated. Could it be the natural sibling rivalry? After the doctor examined me, he said that apart from needing a dozen stitches on my head and some scrapes on my body, there were no other issues. I could be discharged after the stitches were removed in a few days. There were no blood clots in my brain. As for the amnesia, medical science doesn’t have a specific treatment for it yet. I just needed to stay in the hospital for one more day of observation, and then I could go home. They suggested taking me to places I used to live; maybe I would remember something one day. “Handsome, what’s your name? Tell me, so I can find you in my contacts.” “Julian Hayes.” My old phone was broken. The new phone did have Julian Hayes in the contacts. Strangely, Liam was pinned to the top. We must have a really good sibling relationship to put him there. Julian stayed with me all afternoon. Since I had just woken up, my head was still dizzy. I originally wanted to ask him about his interests, but I felt sleepy and dozed off. When I woke up again, Julian was gone, and Liam was there. I displayed a look of sheer disappointment. If I had known, I wouldn’t have slept. I should have seized the time to win over my crush. Liam stared at me, his brow furrowed, his tone dark: “What’s with that expression? Are you disappointed to see me?” “Brother, you and Julian are bros, right?” Otherwise, why would he take such good care of me? He paused for a moment: “What did you call me?” “You said you’re my brother. Since you’re my brother, you have to help me pursue Julian. My future happiness depends on you.” He took out a cigarette, looking frustrated and wanting a smoke. Perhaps remembering this was a hospital room, he eventually just rolled it between his fingers near his nose, inhaling the scent of tobacco. He lowered his voice. The fact that he couldn’t smoke seemed to make him unhappy. “Stop messing around. You’ll get yourself into trouble. Julian isn’t your type.” “He is. How could he not be? It was love at first sight for me.” I like tall, handsome guys with warm, beautiful smiles and dimples. He had it all. He let out a strange, low chuckle. Then he completely snapped the cigarette in his hand, scattering tobacco everywhere, and threw it into the trash can. “Fine, I’ll help you.” 07 When I was discharged, Liam asked Julian to drive me home. He had to accompany another girl named Serena Sterling to a film set. I walked up to Liam. Serena looked at me apologetically: “Aria, I’m so sorry. Liam has to come with me to the set. It’s my first time filming, and I’m really nervous.” I looked completely unbothered: “It’s fine. He wants to do it.” Anyone could see Liam was trying to pursue her. Why should I care? I turned to Liam, my face full of sincere joy: “Thank you. You really put a lot of thought into creating this opportunity for me to be alone with him.” His expression was dark and unpredictable as he gritted his teeth and said: “You’re welcome.” Just as I was about to get in the car, a swarm of reporters rushed out and surrounded us. I already knew I used to be in the entertainment industry and seemed to be doing quite well. But my manager said my schedules had been put on hold for a while to let me take a vacation. I could resume working once I felt better. The reporters’ microphones were practically shoved into my mouth. “Ms. Carter, regarding the earthquake that day when Mr. Carter saved Ms. Sterling first, what are your thoughts?” “Are Mr. Carter and Ms. Sterling dating? How long has it been? Do you know?” I didn’t understand why the media was so excited. And Liam—why was he glaring at me so intensely? His eyes were dark and unreadable, making me feel flustered. Even if I was his sister, I couldn’t morally blackmail him into saving me first. At most, he was just a bit disloyal. Was he afraid I would badmouth him in front of the media, making him look bad in front of the girl he liked? “Whoever he wants to save is his business. Whether they’re dating is something you should ask them, why ask me? It has nothing to do with me.” After hearing this, Liam clenched his jaw, looking like he wanted to punch someone. He silently mouthed at me, “Aria, you’re really something.” If you’re going to praise me, praise me. Why make it look like you want to hit me? He forcefully slammed the car door and left with Serena. I was trapped by the crowd, unable to move, trying to squeeze out and get into Julian’s car. “This is Mr. Hayes’s car. Is Ms. Carter getting a ride from Mr. Hayes?” “I came to pick her up from the hospital.” Julian arrived beside me, shielding me so I wouldn’t be knocked over by the media. “Surrounding a hospital like this will inconvenience other patients. I believe you media professionals wouldn’t be so lacking in basic decency.” Those two sentences forced the crowd to step back. When it comes to moral high-grounding, you’re the master, Julian. He knows exactly how to handle people. I love him even more now. 08 That evening, I dragged Julian into a co-op game lobby online, just as Liam came home. “Julian, I’ll play support, you play the carry.” “Okay.” I smiled brilliantly, following him around the whole game. If someone killed me, I complained to him. He chased them across the map to get revenge. “Julian, you’re so good at this game. Can you play with me more often? I want to rank up soon.” “Just call me Julian.” A shadow loomed over me. I looked up to see Liam blocking my view, his expression cold enough to freeze water. This guy never had a pleasant look on his face all day. So annoying. “Stop playing. I haven’t eaten.” I answered him dismissively: “It’s almost 7:30 and you haven’t eaten? I just saw some instant noodles in the cabinet. Go make yourself a bowl.” “I don’t eat instant noodles.” “Then order takeout.” He grabbed my phone, forcefully grabbed my shoulder, and pinned me against the sofa. “In the past, you would never let me eat instant noodles, saying it wasn’t nutritious. You wouldn’t let me eat takeout either, saying it wasn’t healthy. You would go out of your way to cook what I liked.” Wow, as a sister, I really played the role of a nagging mother. I saw my character in the game fall behind. I was about to die. I shoved Liam away and snatched my phone back. “Then stay hungry.” By the time the game finished, Julian said he had something to do and logged off. I looked at Liam clutching his stomach, leaning against the sofa, glaring at me fiercely yet with a hint of grievance. Like an abused wolfdog, his intimidating aura was much weaker. No, how could such a grown man feel so wronged just because he wasn’t fed? That look really didn’t suit him. But it wasn’t my problem. He wouldn’t starve to death. If he got hungry enough, he’d realize instant noodles might lack nutrition, but they fill the stomach. I got up, planning to go upstairs, shower, and sleep. “Aria, my stomach hurts.” Behind me, his aggrieved voice sounded. “Then order a delivery service to bring you some stomach medicine. I’m tired. I have a lunch date with Julian tomorrow.” Walking halfway, I turned to look at him. His eyes lit up. I said to him: “Thank you for telling him I like playing games. Later, can you also tell him what my favorite foods are?” He shivered on the sofa, lowered his eyes, and said to me in a hoarse voice: “I don’t know.” “Oh, well. I’ll just ask him myself. Getting to know each other might even improve our relationship.” He seemed to be in immense pain, his body curled up, the knuckles gripping the sofa turning white. 09 For lunch, I chose a private kitchen, which offered good privacy. We unexpectedly ran into Liam and Serena, who also came to this restaurant. Serena insisted we all eat together, saying it would be livelier. Liam didn’t object. As soon as she sat down, she pulled me into a conversation, showing her concern: “Aria, will that wound leave a scar on your head? They say hair never grows back where you get stitches.” I immediately reciprocated her concern. “I have plenty of hair, a little bald spot is fine. But you should be careful, sister. I just looked at you, and your part line is almost a finger wide. You should worry less and try not to lose any more hair.” Julian heard me and comforted me: “It won’t leave a scar. There are many techniques nowadays that can remove scars.” Liam, on the other hand, sat down and didn’t say a word. The waiter brought an iPad for us to order. I asked Julian: “Julian, what do you like to eat?” “Fish, no offal, I like spicy food. Nothing else special, anything’s fine.” “Then let’s get the signature sweet and sour fish, and a steamed fish head with diced hot peppers.” “You decide, I’ll pay.” “No way, I said I’m treating.” “Then I’ll treat next time.” I ordered a few of my favorites, then passed the iPad to Serena. She ordered while saying: “Aria, you and Julian seem to be getting along really well now. Isn’t that right, Liam?” Liam didn’t answer. I said: “Yeah, it feels like we’ve known each other forever. This might be that ‘imprinting’ thing. You feel especially dependent on the first person you see when you open your eyes.” Julian didn’t look too pleased. He commented: “You see me as your mother?” “How is that possible? You’re obviously a guy.” “Good.” Liam pushed his chair back, the sound grating. “Going out for a smoke.” Julian said he was going too. I sat for a while and felt like Serena and I really weren’t on the same wavelength. We had nothing to talk about, so I got up and went to the restroom to hide for a bit. At the corner, I saw Julian holding a cigarette, leaning against the hallway wall. He took a drag and tilted his head back to exhale the smoke. This was the first time I had seen him smoke. It was surprisingly sexy. He spoke: “Liam, you and Aria are broken up now, right?” Liam didn’t reply. The cigarette in his hand had burned down halfway. Only when it almost burned his fingers did he finally speak. “What do you mean by that?” “I want a straight answer from you. If you’re broken up, I’m going to pursue her.” Liam used his left hand to snuff out the cigarette butt, throwing it into the nearby trash can. He let out a low, cold laugh. His expression was indifferent, his tone arrogant. “If you don’t mind picking up my sloppy seconds, then go ahead.” Julian raised his hand and punched him right in the stomach: “It’s truly despicable how you insult a girl who dated you for seven years and poured her heart out to you.” Liam was hit hard and took a moment to recover before standing up and raising his hand to strike back: “Who the fuck are you to hit me?” But his hand was calmly caught by Julian: “Don’t make a scene. We still have to eat. If the media catches wind of this, it’ll look even worse. Since you personally admitted to breaking up with her, I’ll have her move out and stop contacting you.” After saying that, he shook off Liam’s hand, took the last drag of his cigarette, turned, and walked into the private room. 10 Having just heard two explosive pieces of news, I walked into the restroom feeling completely dazed. Liam wasn’t my brother; he was my ex-boyfriend. And Julian was actually planning to pursue me actively. It’s true what they say: the highest-level hunters often appear as prey. He was totally playing the long game. Liam saying he was my brother was clearly because he was afraid I’d keep pestering him and refuse to break up, which would interfere with his pursuit of Serena. No wonder every time I saw him, I instinctively felt uncomfortable. No wonder the media was so excited to ask me about their relationship that day. Turns out I was wearing a metaphorical green hat. No wonder Liam’s WeChat was pinned to the top. I must have really cared about every message he sent. The things in the mansion were all in pairs, looking like couple’s items. Turns out, they were couple’s items. Now, all these questions were answered. I washed my face to make myself look calmer before returning to the private room. They were all sitting in their original seats as if nothing had happened. When the food arrived, Liam barely touched it. Just as we finished eating and were getting up, he clutched his stomach and dropped to his knees on the floor. It must be his stomach pain flaring up again. Serena panicked, trying to pull him up and calling his name. I said: “Make a call. Call an ambulance.” Serena did as I suggested. I grabbed Julian and turned to leave, but my left hand was grabbed. I turned back to see Liam, kneeling on one knee, holding my hand. His face was as white as paper, his whole body trembling in pain. “You’re not going to accompany me to the hospital?” “Brother, no. You have Serena with you. I wouldn’t be much help if I went anyway. Julian and I have a movie to catch; it’s starting soon. We’ll be late if we delay.” While he was distracted, I pushed his hand away. I heard him whisper softly: “Before, if I was sick, you would be more anxious than anyone. Now you won’t even spare me a second glance.” Too bad for him, as he said, that was “before.” Now, I’ve forgotten. No matter how much pain he was in, I felt nothing. Like an outsider. 11 After the movie, as we were taking a walk, Julian was just about to hold my hand when his phone rang. I saw it was Liam calling. Julian didn’t answer, but Liam kept calling incessantly. When I finally answered, I heard him weakly say to me: “My stomach is bleeding.” I asked, slightly annoyed: “Is there anything else?” He was interrupting the progress of my romance. The other end of the line was silent for a long time: “Are you not coming to see me?” “There’s no need. I’m neither a doctor nor medicine. If there’s nothing else, I’m hanging up.” He breathed heavily, clearly furious, and roared: “Aria, if you have any guts, never contact me again.” I heard the sound of something crashing to the ground through the phone. Serena was crying out anxiously: “Liam, you’re on an IV! How could you kick the IV pole? You’re bleeding everywhere! Nurse…” I hung up the phone. My head throbbed briefly, and blurry images flashed before my eyes. It seemed I was sick and on an IV, constantly dialing a number. When the person finally answered, they just said: “I’m busy. Don’t bother me unless it’s important.” I asked him tentatively: “I’m sick, my head is spinning. Can you come see me?” He didn’t show a shred of concern: “If you’re sick, find a doctor. Don’t look for me, you’re delaying my street racing.” I held my phone, crying sadly. Thinking back to this, I felt moisture on my face. “Why are you crying?” Julian looked at me nervously, a bit helplessly reaching out to wipe my face. I just said: “My head hurts.” “I’ll take you to the hospital.” “No need, it’ll pass in a moment.” He offered to massage my head to help relieve the pain. When I felt better, he drove me back to the mansion. He said: “Although it feels a bit like taking advantage of your vulnerability now since you have no memories, and your reliance on me might just be because I was the first person you saw, I want our relationship to go a step further. I want to pursue you. I tried a long time ago, but I want to try again. Can I?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “421043”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

After my husband, Preston Vance, practically handed me over to his twin brother, I finally realized that in our three years of marriage, this untouchable, elite heir had never once felt anything for me. The woman he loved was my older cousin. “I don’t love you. The family wants a child, so just have one with Parker,” he’d said. Yet, when I stood in front of him holding a positive pregnancy test, his eyes grew red. “Did you actually fall in love with my brother?” I didn’t answer. Behind me, someone knocked on the bedroom door. A lazy, arrogant voice drifted in. “Open up, sister-in-law. It’s me, your ‘husband’.” 01 For three years of marriage, Preston was ascetic and untouchable, never laying a finger on me. He claimed that his dedication to a stoic, disciplined lifestyle meant he couldn’t break his vows. So, I took the initiative to sleep in separate rooms, giving him space. Until his wild, rebellious twin brother, Parker Vance, returned from abroad. I accidentally overheard a conversation between the two of them. “Parker, you take my place and consummate the marriage with Chloe.” Preston’s tone was indifferent, as if he were casually mentioning a stranger. The next second, a lazy, slightly thuggish voice rang out: “Did all that meditating fry your brain? She’s not my wife. Wait a minute, could it be…” He paused for a moment, a hint of schadenfreude creeping into his voice: “Are you impotent?” Preston didn’t get angry. He sat calmly in his armchair, turning a jade signet ring on his finger: “I just feel nothing for someone I don’t love.” That simple sentence nailed me to the spot. Snap. The expensive pen Parker had been toying with suddenly snapped in half. He bent down to pick it up as if nothing had happened, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “Oh? Is that so? If you don’t love her, who do you love?” Preston was silent for a moment. My heart rose into my throat. Until I heard him speak a name I was incredibly familiar with. “Serena Sterling.” My cousin, the one hailed as America’s sweetheart, who had abruptly announced her retirement from acting three years ago and immigrated overseas. Hearing that name, I couldn’t help but recall events from a long time ago. 02 Preston and I had known each other since we were kids. In middle school, he fell seriously ill and was sent to a private, secluded retreat to recover. We lost touch after that. We met again during our senior year of high school. He took the initiative to have someone bring me a letter. Opening the plain envelope, the boy’s elegant, sharp handwriting met my eyes. [It’s boring here.] Just four words. But for someone harboring a secret crush on Preston, it was like a spark lighting a prairie fire. I thought he was hinting for me to come visit him. So, as soon as school let out, I immediately packed my bags and went to the retreat to find him. When we met, Preston was dressed in simple, tailored clothes, his aura as cold and distant as ever. His gaze drifted behind me. “You came alone?” I didn’t notice the disappointment in his eyes. I sincerely pulled the letter from my pocket: “Didn’t you only write to me?” Preston froze, his brows furrowing slightly, but he quickly smoothed them out and turned to show me around the grounds. Ten minutes later, he brought me right back to the main entrance. “Alright, you’ve seen it. Go home.” I was caught completely off guard: “That’s it? Preston, can’t you…” “That’s enough,” he cut me off, rubbing his tired eyes. “My time for quiet reflection has arrived. I can’t keep you company.” “Oh…” I lowered my head in disappointment and turned to leave. But Preston spoke again. “Don’t come alone next time. It’s not appropriate for a man and a woman to be alone together.” Hearing the words “next time,” my disappointment vanished instantly. I even eagerly found an excuse for his coldness today. He was just being shy! So, the next time we met, I dragged Parker, who had just finished cello practice, along with me. On the drive up, he wore an incredibly annoyed expression on a face that was identical to Preston’s. “If you like him, just go by yourself! I don’t even like the guy…” Desperate for his help, I quickly tried to coax him: “Oh, come on! Tell me what kind of girl you like, and I’ll find one for you the second we get back down the mountain!” Parker stopped in his tracks, looked down at me, and then took three long strides up the steps, pulling away from me. The summer breeze carried his words to my ear. “I’m not telling you.” I scoffed and quickly chased after the boy in black carrying the cello case. “Fine, keep your secrets.” When we reached the entrance of the retreat, Preston was already waiting there. The moment he saw Parker beside me, his face darkened instantly. “Why did you bring him?” Before I could answer, Parker let out a cold sneer: “Got a problem with me being here?” Saying that, he bumped Preston’s shoulder with one hand in his pocket and walked right into the building. This trip was just as unpleasant. While Parker went to the bathroom, Preston stood next to me and said coldly: “Bring a girl next time.” I didn’t understand his logic: “Why? Are you sexist?” He was silent for a moment, then suddenly looked down at me: “Because I’m jealous. Is that a good enough reason?” I was hit so hard by his sudden, blunt confession that it took me a long time to recover. I thought my teenage crush had finally been reciprocated. I couldn’t wait to share it with my cousin, Serena Sterling, whom I was close with, and asked her to come with me next time. She didn’t refuse. That time, when Preston saw the two of us, his eyes lit up. At the time, I thought he was happy because I hadn’t brought a boy. Thinking back on it now, this giant iceberg only melted because he saw Serena. And I only discovered this truth after three years of marriage. I stood in the doorway of the study, my eyes involuntarily turning red. My heart felt like it was being pricked by needles, a dense, spreading pain. Preston… You clearly never liked me, did you? Then why did you marry me? 03 I sat on the sofa in a daze for a long time. Tears finally fell to the floor with a pat. I don’t know when Preston walked into the living room. He stood tall in the shadows, his quiet eyes exceptionally cold. After staring at me for a long time, he finally spoke in annoyance: “Are you done crying? If you’re done, I have some business to discuss with you.” I didn’t answer. I just haphazardly wiped the tears from my face, walked up to him, and stood on my tiptoes to kiss him. But the next second, he shoved me away violently. My waist hit the corner of the table hard. It hurt a lot. But not even a tenth as much as the disgust in Preston’s eyes brought me. “Didn’t I tell you on our wedding day? My disciplined lifestyle means I can’t break my vows. Have you lost your mind?” “What if my cousin was standing in front of you?” Preston froze. Whatever he was thinking, his ears turned red as he gripped the jade signet ring in his hand tightly. He was aroused. But in front of me, he was still pretending. “Chloe, you’re being unreasonable. What goes on between us has nothing to do with her.” I punctured his lie directly: “How does it have nothing to do with her? Isn’t she the one you love?” He froze again, a hint of panic flashing in his eyes. “You heard?” Before I could answer, he let out a sigh of relief. “Good. Then I’ll just lay my cards on the table. “I don’t love you. “The family wants a child, so just have one with Parker. “He looks exactly like me anyway. It shouldn’t be hard for you to accept.” Every word was like a sharp blade, grinding away my love for him. His casual tone also told me just how laughable my fifteen-year-long crush on him really was. I looked up to wipe away the tears that welled up again, only to lock eyes with Parker, who was leaning against the railing of the second-floor hallway. Ever since I married Preston, Parker had gone abroad to study music. This was the first time we had seen each other in three years. He still had the same sharp, arrogant, and untamed look in his eyes as before. And I was nothing but a mess. Preston followed my gaze and saw his brother. He said expressionlessly to the other man: “I’ve already talked to Chloe. You can stay here tonight.” With that, he turned and left. He didn’t even spare me a glance. Ignoring the fact that Parker was still there, I went crazy and smashed the antiques in the living room to pieces. Finally, drained of energy, I slumped to the floor, covered my face, and sobbed bitterly. Parker walked downstairs and crouched beside me. “Want to keep smashing? I’ll buy new ones for you.” I shook my head through my sobs, forcing a smile through the heartache: “I’m sorry. We finally get to see each other, and you have to witness this. Where are you staying tonight? I’ll have the driver take you.” He stared straight into my eyes, his gaze unreadable: “Didn’t my brother tell me to stay here?” I froze, staring blankly at him. It took me a long time to find my voice. “You… you’re serious?” It was absurd! How could Parker agree to such a thing?! “Can’t I be?” He raised an eyebrow, his tone incredibly serious. I was so startled I scrambled backward: “Of course you can’t! I’m your sister-in-law!” Parker suddenly dropped to one knee on the floor, advancing toward me with intense aggression: “And so what?” I was so terrified I scrambled up to run, but he caught up to me and scooped me up around the waist. “Parker Vance! Have you lost your fucking mind?!” “Tsk, such a dramatic reaction? You looked too sad, I was just messing with you.” I paused. Being scared by him like that, I actually forgot to cry. He had already returned to his usual careless demeanor, gently placing me on the sofa. “Rest for a bit. I’ll clean this up.” Saying that, he poured me a glass of water. I caught sight of the tablet next to the sofa. It was Preston’s. As if possessed by a ghost, I grabbed the tablet. I entered Serena Sterling’s birthday. The tablet unlocked successfully. I opened his messages. Sure enough, Serena was his only pinned contact. The two of them were chatting right now. … Serena: [Is this really going to work? What if Chloe doesn’t get pregnant?] Preston: [She has to.] Serena: [I’m so sorry. I really didn’t expect that my body wouldn’t be able to handle a miscarriage…] Preston: [It’s fine. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have proposed to Chloe just to spite you. Now my parents love her so much, it’s hard to get a divorce.] Serena: [Boohoo, then it is your fault! That night was your fault too! I told you to buy condoms! You insisted it would be fine! Now look what happened!] Preston: [Don’t be mad, baby. It’s my fault. When Chloe’s child is born, I’ll immediately swap it with ours.] Serena: [Then when are you going to marry me?] Preston: [Baby, can you wait a little longer? My parents won’t agree to a divorce for a few years.] Serena: [Fine. So annoying! Hurry over here, I’m waiting to take a shower with you~] … Reading their chat logs, my face turned pale. No wonder. No wonder Preston suddenly proposed to me three years ago. No wonder he suddenly wanted a child. It turned out, it was all for Serena. They… had been together all along. At the same time, my phone vibrated. It was Serena. Serena: [Hey Chloe! I’m back in the country today! When should we hang out?] I didn’t reply to her. Instead, I looked over at Parker, who was sweeping the floor. The words Preston had said not long ago popped into my head. “He looks exactly like me anyway. It shouldn’t be hard for you to accept.” The same? They were completely different. Preston would never clean up the trash on the floor for me. Noticing my gaze, Parker walked over, raising an eyebrow in confusion: “Why are you looking at me? Not feeling well?” This was different too. Preston would never take the initiative to care about me. The tears I had just managed to stop flowed out uncontrollably again. He panicked instantly, fumbling to wipe my tears. “No, what’s wrong, my little ancestor? Why are you crying again? Stop crying. When I’m done cleaning up, I’ll go beat up my brother, okay? “And, to be brutally honest, if worse comes to worst, you can just find another guy. Haven’t you seen plenty of couples in our circle who only look married on paper? “There’s no need to hang yourself on a moron like my brother.” With him caring so much, all the suppressed grievances in my heart exploded. “I know all the logic! But it hurts so much. I liked him for fifteen years, why is he treating me like this?” Parker gently raised his hand and used his thumb to wipe away the tears at the corner of my eyes: “I get it. Later, I’ll take you for a drive to clear your head, okay?” He used to coax me like this in the past. He knew I loved the feeling of a breeze brushing against my face, so whenever I was sad, he’d ride his motorcycle and take me for a spin. I’d sit on the back and vent to him about everything. A lot of it was about Preston. I sniffled and shook my head: “Let’s go next time. I bumped my back on the table corner earlier. My lower back hurts.” He paused, instinctively reaching out to lift my shirt to check. But he stopped the moment he touched the fabric. “Can I take a look? If it’s serious, I’ll take you to the hospital.” He looked up at me. I fell unexpectedly into his eyes full of heartache, and subconsciously nodded. The hem of my short-sleeved shirt was lifted. A bruise was clearly reflected in Parker’s eyes. His hand, resting on the edge of the sofa, clenched tightly into a fist as he stared at the bruise for a long time. I felt an inexplicable warmth in my face and was about to pull my shirt down. Parker, however, voluntarily let go, stood up, and found some soothing oil from the first-aid kit. “Lie on your stomach.” I looked at Parker warming up his palms. After hesitating for a moment, I obediently lay face down on the sofa. The floor-to-ceiling window across the room reflected Parker’s movements. Tall and long-legged, he knelt on one knee beside the sofa, leaning over to gently lift my shirt. The next second, warmth hit the left side of my lower back. It was so hot that my skin instantly tightened, and I instinctively turned to dodge it. Parker looked up, his dark eyes locking with mine in the reflection of the window. “Does it hurt?” His voice was very hoarse. It made my ears feel inexplicably hot. I abruptly lowered my head, burying my face between my arms, playing along with his words, my voice muffled: “Yeah, you… be a little gentler.” Parker paused for a moment, then suddenly chuckled softly. I was about to ask him what was so funny. The sensation of being touched returned to my lower back. This time, I endured it and didn’t flinch. I just quietly gripped the throw pillow under my head. Gripped it so hard my knuckles turned white. Burying my head in the pillow, I lost my sight, and my other senses began to heighten, playing tricks on me. I felt the skin he touched instantly tighten, then relax under his kneading. I heard his breathing; it seemed heavier than usual. I smelled the faint scent of soap in the air, barely there, yet distinctly obvious. And every time he pressed down, the knee resting beside me gently brushed against the side of my thigh. The air seemed to grow thin. I was having trouble breathing. Until my phone rang jarringly. I felt like I was pulled out of the water. I fumbled to answer the call. It was Preston. “Don’t let Parker keep you up too late. We have to go back to the main estate for dinner tomorrow.” I tried my best to calm my emotions: “Okay, I got it… Ah—” The end of my sentence suddenly pitched up. I don’t know what crazy idea got into Parker, but the hand pressing on my lower back suddenly pushed down hard. “That hurts!” I turned my head and glared at him. “Can you be a little gentler?!” Parker put on an extremely innocent expression, blinked twice, and said: “I didn’t do it on purpose.” “You—” “Chloe.” Preston’s voice sounded again, a hint of undetectable anger hidden in his tone. “What are you and my brother doing?” I quickly realized he misunderstood something. But I had no intention of explaining. Isn’t this exactly what Preston Vance wanted? I chuckled softly, deliberately adding a touch of flirtatiousness to my voice: “What does it matter to you what we’re doing?” As soon as the words left my mouth, Parker suddenly leaned down, his chin almost resting on my shoulder. I instantly stiffened. I felt his breath against my ear. It tickled. “Don’t ask too many questions, bro. Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of my sister-in-law.” Saying that, his fingers moved slightly, tickling the sensitive spot on my waist. I cursed under my breath and reached out to grab his wandering hand, accidentally scratching his forearm in the process. “Hiss—” Parker chuckled low. “Scratching now? You’re that wild?” My face flushed with shame and anger: “Shut up! I don’t want to hear another word from you!” Parker smirked, nodding carelessly: “Okay, okay, okay, I’ll shut up.” Except, he didn’t spare my ticklish spot. Making it impossible for me to speak a complete sentence. Preston remained silent, listening to his brother and me messing around. Eventually, I didn’t even realize when he hung up the phone. 04 The next morning, Parker insisted on making me breakfast, claiming he had mastered five-star chef skills while abroad. In the kitchen, the broad-shouldered, narrow-waisted man was bustling about in a pink apron, occasionally turning to make funny faces at me sitting on the sofa. Preston had never done these things for me. In front of me, he only ever wore a cold expression. So, I had never mistaken one for the other. They were completely different. “Hey, Chloe! Come try your brother’s freshly made century egg and lean pork congee!” “Coming.” I held my still slightly aching lower back and shuffled over. He handed the spoon full of congee directly to my mouth: “Taste it.” My raised hand paused mid-air. Ultimately, I put it down. I quickly drank the congee from the spoon, took a step back, and created some distance between us. “Uh… it’s pretty good, just seems to be missing salt.” The eager smile on Parker’s face instantly froze. After a brief half-second of silence, he seemed to realize that his claim to being a “five-star chef” had suffered a major setback. He could only scratch his head awkwardly: “I think I forgot the salt…” I was just about to comfort him. When he suddenly made a finger heart at me: “Because my love for you needs no words~” Even though it was incredibly cheesy, I couldn’t control the rush of heat to my brain. Right then, Preston came back. He stood in the entryway, his figure tall and slender, the white jade prayer beads dangling by his side swaying slightly. His gaze towards me was quiet and dark. Finally, his eyes landed on the hand I had resting on my lower back. “Liked me for fifteen years, and you immediately turn around and get with someone else? Chloe, you’re really something.” Hearing his inexplicable sarcasm, I found it somewhat amusing. So amusing that I couldn’t help but snap back. “You’re not dead yet. Are you expecting me to play the grieving widow for three years?” Preston went silent, his thin lips pressed into a tight line. I knew he misunderstood Parker and me, but I didn’t explain. Instead, I chuckled and pounded my lower back, intentionally misleading him: “Besides, isn’t this what you wanted? If I actually get pregnant, do you think the baby will call you ‘Dad’ or ‘Uncle’?” I don’t know which word struck a nerve with Preston, but his face darkened, and the look in his eyes became exceptionally gloomy. Parker silently wrapped an arm around my waist, his clear, bright eyes curving slightly. He smirked carelessly and arrogantly: “Just call him ‘Dad.’ Anyway, according to my brother, we look exactly the same. In the future, you can see the kid on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and I’ll see the kid on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. We’ll alternate Sundays. How about that?” Preston lowered his eyes, his long eyelashes casting a shadow under his eyes, making it impossible to read his emotions. “Suit yourself.” He dropped that cold sentence and turned to go to the study. I patted Parker’s hand, which was still resting on my waist: “The act is over. You can take it back now.” To my surprise, he suddenly tightened his grip, pulling me tightly against his chest. I raised my hands against his chest to push him away, but it was useless. The only use was feeling his pectoral muscles. “I helped you put on a show; shouldn’t I get a little reward?” He lowered his head, his face very close to mine. I subconsciously held my breath and started to stutter: “Wh-what kind of reward?” “I’ll be your model. Draw a portrait for me.” I froze instantly and forced a dry laugh: “Pick something else. I haven’t painted in a long time…” Not since five years ago. Actually, There was one time. For Serena’s twenty-fifth birthday. She insisted on being my model, begging me to paint her beautifully, saying it was just to commemorate our family bond and friendship. I repeatedly refused. But she pouted and said pitifully: “Chloe, do you not see me as a good sister anymore?” I was momentarily speechless. Preston, who was sitting quietly beside me folding origami cranes, suddenly looked up at me, his tone as cold as ever: “It’s just a painting. What are you refusing for?” I pursed my lips and eventually agreed. And I set a condition: Do not post it online. Who knew that the very night I finished the painting, I’d be trending. Serena posted the painting on Twitter with the caption: [Thanks for the birthday gift, Chloe~ Love it~] I had hidden myself away for so long, only to be forcibly dragged back into the public eye by her. People immediately dug up my past, calling me a plagiarist and telling Serena to stay away from me. “I’m so sorry, Chloe. You painted it so beautifully, I really couldn’t resist posting it on Twitter. Boohoo,” Serena apologized, holding my hand and swinging it. I lowered my eyes, looking at her hand clasped over mine. For the first time, I spoke harshly to her. “I’m in a bad mood right now. Can you please get the hell away from me?” Serena stood frozen on the spot. I turned and went home. But the moment I opened the door, I was met with a barrage of curses from my father and stepmother. “Why do you have to go show off? Do you think being able to paint makes you special? If I had known you would bring me so much shame, I should have broken your hands back then!” “Chloe, your dad worked so hard to suppress that plagiarism scandal back then, and now you’re stirring up this kind of trouble again. Do you think our family has money to burn? You really don’t know the value of a dollar…” … Word by word, sentence by sentence, they beat down on my spine. Pressing me down until I bent over, bit by bit. The pride and liveliness of the former wealthy heiress were chipped away. It felt like I became completely quiet from that day on. When Preston saw me again, he even raised an eyebrow in rare surprise: “You’ve changed a lot.” I smiled: “I have no choice. I can’t keep bringing shame to the family like before.” Later, because of family obligations, I made up with Serena. Just without the enthusiasm I used to have. 06 Now that Parker brought up painting again, I subconsciously tried to avoid it. But he looked at me earnestly, his dark eyes seeming to hide the stars in the sky. “Chloe, you said you were going to be a great painter.” “But…” I blinked, suppressing the stinging in my eyes. “I’ve been nailed to the pillar of shame as a plagiarist…” “I don’t believe you plagiarized. “Back then, the designer who accused you of plagiarism vanished without a trace, but someone transferred three million dollars to him. “I don’t think that’s a coincidence. “Chloe, you did nothing wrong. “I found his address a few days ago. Want to go see him?” Hearing the certainty in his tone, I finally couldn’t hold back my tears. The grievances hidden for five years burst forth in that moment. So, someone did believe me. In the end. I agreed to paint a portrait for Parker. But not now. He said: “Wait until the day your name is cleared, and I’ll be the first one you paint.” 07 At noon, we went back to the main estate for lunch. Mrs. Vance brought up her desire for a grandchild again. My heart trembled, and I subconsciously looked at Parker, who was playing chess with Mr. Vance not far away. In front of the elders, he sat upright before the chessboard, lacking some of his usual laziness. Only his slender fingers resting on his thigh, holding a smooth black chess piece, gently rubbing it. As if possessed, I remembered the sensation of his slightly calloused fingertips accidentally brushing against my waist last night. Suddenly, he looked up, glancing in my direction, and gave a very subtle raise of one eyebrow. I suddenly snapped back to reality, my ears turning red, looking everywhere but at him. But I accidentally met Preston’s gaze watching me. If it were in the past, I would have happily stared right back at him, but now I subconsciously frowned and looked away. He instantly gripped his prayer beads tighter. 08 After lunch, Parker followed us back home. But he was stopped at the door by Preston as we entered. “Your house isn’t here.” Parker simply shoved past him, walked in, and stood beside me, curling his lips into an innocent smile: “I know! But I have to keep my sister-in-law company! Did you forget? You said it yourself yesterday, telling my sister-in-law to have a baby with me.” Preston fell silent. He just stared at me. And I obediently looped my arm through Parker’s and waved at him: “Go play outside. Don’t bother the two of us.” Two seconds later, Preston left. He slammed the door so hard it rattled. It rattled me so much I stood frozen in place for a moment. Was he angry? But wasn’t this what he wanted? After a brief moment of absentmindedness, Parker called me over, having booked flights for us to go abroad. I planned to meet Julian Smith, the designer who reported me for plagiarism, one more time. But when we got there, we found out that Julian Smith had died in a car accident a few days ago. They couldn’t save him. I stood at the hospital entrance for a long time, the cold foreign wind blowing against my face, stinging painfully. The next second, Parker turned sideways, standing in the wind’s path, shielding me from the breeze. “It’s okay. There must be another way.” I nodded, letting the wind blow my long hair into a mess. The moment my vision blurred, I felt like I was briefly separated from this world. Until a voice called out, “Mr. Vance.” Parker and I turned our heads and saw a middle-aged woman standing not far away. It was Julian Smith’s wife. I silently pulled my mask up higher. She jogged over and bowed to Parker, looking anxious but grateful as she blurted out: “You didn’t answer my calls, I thought you weren’t coming. You’re our family’s benefactor. Julian kept saying he wanted to see you one last time before he died, but he didn’t get to. He’s probably crying down there…” Parker stood there, a bit bewildered. But he quickly recovered. His gaze became cold and distant, and his posture lost some of its casualness. In a daze, I almost called out “Preston.” He looked so much like him… Julian Smith’s wife paused, carefully glancing at Parker, then said: “Since Julian passed away, we don’t have much money left. Living in a foreign country is really hard for me and the kids. Mr. Vance, could you perhaps give us another three million to help us out?” Parker lowered his eyes, staring at her coldly without saying a word. But the pressure was intense. She anxiously rubbed her hands together: “Mr. Vance, it’s okay if you don’t help us, but some things Julian left behind might end up in the hands of your wife, Chloe. It might get a bit ugly then.” Hearing my name, I froze, my heart growing colder inch by inch. Preston… what the hell did you do behind my back? “Money isn’t an issue,” Parker’s voice suddenly deepened, carrying a hint of displeasure. “But this is the last time. Give me the things, and I will destroy them myself.” “If you dare keep a backup, I won’t hesitate to send you down to keep Julian company.” “Of course, of course, but I need to see the money first.” Parker narrowed his eyes and let out a cold scoff: “Don’t try to reason with me. I don’t like killing people.” Perhaps remembering the power behind the Vance family, Julian Smith’s wife struggled for a moment before finally taking a step back: “Fine, I’ll give it to you now, but you absolutely cannot break your promise.” “Mhm.” After a few seconds of hesitation, she pulled out a USB drive. Parker plugged the USB drive directly into his phone and checked the files inside. They were phone recordings and chat logs. Suddenly, Julian Smith’s wife let out an “Huh”: “Mr. Vance, why aren’t you carrying your prayer beads today?” Parker’s fingers paused, then without even batting an eye, he said four words simply and flatly. “It’s cold. Hands freeze. “The three million will be transferred to your account tomorrow. Make sure you stay hidden abroad.” Dropping that sentence, Parker turned around swiftly and left. I hurried to follow him. Hearing that last sentence, Julian Smith’s wife’s mind was completely occupied by the money. Her doubts vanished, and she even enthusiastically saw us off. On the way back to the hotel, I listened to the recordings on the USB drive. In them, Preston told Julian Smith: “Three million. Don’t bother Serena Sterling ever again, or I don’t mind killing you.” In another, Serena told Julian Smith: “I’ve sent you all of Chloe’s drafts. Tweak them a little and publish them immediately. Make sure it causes a big scene.” … I sat on the bed, staring blankly. The recordings I had just heard echoed in my ears. My chest felt tight. Serena… why did you do this? Preston, how did I ever wrong you? It wasn’t until Parker knocked continuously on my door that I was pulled from my sorrowful thoughts. I opened the door. He stood outside with a worried look on his face, assessing me. Seeing I was fine, he let out a soft sigh of relief. “I thought you’d be hiding in your room crying.” I blinked my somewhat dry eyes and forced a bitter smile, saying nothing. Cry? I felt too awful. So awful that I couldn’t even cry anymore. “Don’t worry, I’m fine. You should go back to sleep. We have a flight to catch tomorrow.” Parker looked at me for a good while longer before taking a half step back and pointing behind him: “Is my brother really going back?” His words made me laugh: “Go back. Goodnight!” Only then did he turn around and leave, feeling reassured. But the next second, I suddenly grabbed the hem of his shirt. “Thank you.” He didn’t look back. “No need to thank me. A brother protecting his sister is just the way things should be.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “421044”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

In my past life, the fake heiress was doted upon, held in the palms of my family’s hands like a precious treasure. Meanwhile, I, the true daughter, was abandoned by my own family, reviled by the world, and died a miserable death on the streets. In this life, I looked at my younger sister’s feigned innocent smile and gave a small smile of my own. She didn’t know that everyone could hear her inner thoughts, except for herself. 00 “Where is Chloe?” I looked up at the person who had just walked in. She was wearing a chic tweed skirt suit, her hair styled in perfect waves, paired with lambskin shoes. Her makeup was flawless. She radiated an air of wealth, looking around with blatant disgust. Her entire aura was completely out of place in these surroundings. “I’m here,” I answered. Chloe looked me up and down, a barely suppressed sneer in her eyes. It was only when her gaze swept across my face that she let out an angry huff. “Let me warn you. Just because Mom and Dad are bringing you home doesn’t mean anything. I’ve lived with the Bennett family for eighteen years. I am the true daughter of the Bennett family. You’d better behave yourself, or I’ll show you exactly what I’m capable of!” Her voice was shrill and piercing, making me frown. She had lived with the Bennetts for so long, yet she hadn’t learned a shred of manners. I was the true daughter of the Bennett family. I had been abducted and sold when I was little, eventually ending up in an orphanage. Chloe had taken my identity and lived as the Bennett family’s beloved daughter for eighteen years. By the time I, the real daughter, was found and brought back, she had already deeply ingrained herself in the hearts of my parents and brother. Unfortunately, her sweet, lovable exterior hid the heart of a viper. To my face, Chloe would affectionately call me “sister,” but behind closed doors, she would stab my skin with pens and threaten me. At school, she would brazenly shove my head into the toilet. She framed me for cheating, destroying my reputation until I was barely surviving at school. Just when I got accepted into a top university and things were finally starting to look up, she pushed me off the eighteenth floor. Because of her, the Bennett family was ruined. My father was sent to prison, my brother disappeared, and my mother, consumed by anger and grief, died of illness. I looked down at my hands. Though they were rough with calluses, they didn’t have the scars from my past life. This meant I had been reborn. I looked at the arrogant Chloe and gave a small smile. She didn’t know that this time around, as long as she was near me, everyone could hear her inner thoughts. In my past life, I was always too afraid to look her in the eye. Looking closely now, her surgically altered face was actually kind of funny. She didn’t look like me. The older she got, the less she looked like me. She had been relying on secret cosmetic tweaks to maintain the resemblance. But because she was terrified the Bennetts would find out, she could only go to shady, underground clinics. Even though her face was completely different now, everyone just assumed she was “growing into her features.” “Is that so? Who the real daughter is—do you think Mom and Dad really don’t know? Why do you think they’re bringing me back? If you aren’t feeling guilty, why did you go to a back-alley clinic to get plastic surgery? Aren’t you afraid your face is going to rot off?” Hit where it hurt, Chloe immediately lunged at me, raising her hand to slap me. But I grabbed her wrist first, my gaze turning ice-cold. “Chloe, don’t forget that everything you have today is because you stole my identity. Do you want to play games? I’ll play with you. But your nose still doesn’t look enough like mine. Since we’ll be living under the same roof, take a good look at my face. Try to find a better doctor next time so you can really copy it.” Being exposed made Chloe panic for a second, but she quickly collected herself, glaring at me venomously. “Who are you trying to scare! Just wait. Once you get to the Bennett house, I’ll show you what I can do. Do you really think a piece of paper is enough to get you through the door? You’re too naive.” “Oh, really? Then why did you sneak over here to try and intimidate me? Don’t lie to yourself, Chloe. If you aren’t scared, why did you get surgery to look like me? Or is it because you know you’re hideous, and seeing me makes you feel insecure?” “Chloe!” Unable to break free from my grip, Chloe screamed and lunged forward, trying to bite me, completely losing her haughty demeanor. I shoved her away, looking in disgust at her crumpled on the floor. “A friendly reminder: Mom and Dad are going to be here any minute. If you don’t leave now, your vicious little act is going to be exposed.” Chloe glared at me fiercely, her eyes practically dripping with poison, but she quickly scrambled up and gathered her things. I let out a cold laugh. This was just the beginning. Not long after Chloe left, the Bennetts arrived to pick me up. I followed them back to the estate. Sitting in the car, I was suddenly incredibly excited to see Chloe. I wondered what would happen when other people heard her inner voice. 01 “Chloe, from now on, Harper is your older sister. You two need to get along.” As soon as we walked through the door, Mom held my hand and led me to Chloe. Although the DNA test proved I was the true daughter, they had raised Chloe for years. Since she had always acted so sweet and obedient, they had no intention of sending her back. A flash of disgust crossed Chloe’s eyes, but she still walked over and affectionately took my hand. “Okay, Mom! I will definitely get along with Harper!” Mom was just about to smile in relief when her expression suddenly froze. She heard Chloe’s inner voice: [I can’t believe this old hag actually brought Harper back. Is she trying to kick me out? This disgusting old bat, acting all high and mighty. I wonder if they know I purposely stole Harper’s identity. They probably think the orphanage just made a mistake.] Mom’s face instantly darkened. She stared in disbelief at Chloe’s sweet, innocent face. The eight years of meticulous upbringing weren’t fake. Before they knew she was fake, the Bennetts felt they owed her, indulging her every whim. Even after finding out she wasn’t their biological daughter, they assumed the orphanage made a mistake. They never blamed her and continued to treat her like their own. “What did you just say, Chloe?” Chloe was startled. She looked up at Mom, a flicker of doubt in her eyes. “I didn’t say anything. What’s wrong, Mom?” “Nothing. I must have imagined it.” Mom looked at her hesitantly. She hadn’t seen Chloe’s lips move, and the whole thing was too bizarre. Chloe had shown up at their door when she was only ten. If what she just heard was true, then a child that young having such a calculated, malicious mind was terrifying. But the next second, Chloe’s voice rang in her ears again. [That old hag scared me to death. For a second, I thought she actually knew what I was thinking. Why won’t they just go away? I have to stand here holding Harper’s hand, it’s so annoying! Harper, this little bitch. Why did she have to come back?] Chloe was so caught up in her thoughts that she unconsciously pinched me hard. I cried out in pain. Mom immediately pulled me toward her. A red welt had already formed on my hand. Thinking about Chloe’s inner thoughts, Mom still couldn’t believe the daughter she had raised for so many years could be so vicious. But it didn’t matter. Once the seed of doubt is planted, it will grow. “What do you think you’re doing, Chloe?” I looked at Chloe’s ugly expression and smiled inwardly, but on the outside, I timidly tugged at Mom’s sleeve. “I’m fine, Mom. Don’t blame her. Maybe she was just… playing a joke on me…” I hid the red welt and secretly pinched myself hard again in the exact same spot. The next second, Chloe’s inner voice sounded again. [What is wrong with this old hag? I just accidentally pinched Harper, and she’s acting like the sky is falling. Her real daughter comes back and she instantly changes her tune. So fake!] Hearing her thoughts, Mom was furious. She grabbed the hand I was hiding behind my back and inspected it. The skin was now covered in an angry, glaring red mark. “Chloe! Even though Harper is back, you are still our daughter! But the way you are acting right now is incredibly disappointing!” Only then did Chloe start to panic. She tried to lunge forward and hug Mom, but Mom dodged her. She stood there, tears welling up in her eyes, looking absolutely pitiful. “No, Mom… it’s not like that…” Seeing her look so wronged, Mom’s heart softened. Just as she was about to give in, Chloe’s inner voice rang out again. [Who does this old witch think she is? She relies on Dad for everything anyway, why is she acting so tough in front of me? And Harper—playing the victim, huh? Just wait, I’ll show you what I can do!] I shrank back behind Mom, looking at Chloe in fear. Mom could no longer hold back. She glared at Chloe. “Enough! Chloe, if you think I don’t deserve to be your mother, you don’t need to put on this fake act in front of me!” 02 I looked at Chloe’s face, twisted in angry confusion, and smirked into Mom’s shoulder. Just wait, Chloe. This is only the beginning of what you’re going to lose. Everything that belongs to me, I will take back, one by one. Mom was still furious, but she didn’t neglect me. Chloe didn’t know this, but Mom used to be a ruthless businesswoman. She only chose to step back and focus on the family after I went missing. Dad respected Mom so much not just out of love, but out of immense gratitude for her sacrifices. Now that Chloe had accidentally revealed she had deliberately stolen my identity, Mom was definitely going to investigate. The truth coming to light was only a matter of time. “Harper, you’ve suffered so much out there. I originally wanted you and Chloe to share a room, but now that I think about it, that’s not a good idea. You can stay in the room next to your brother’s.” I looked at Mom’s red-rimmed eyes. I knew today’s events were a huge blow to her, but what Chloe had done went far beyond this. In the afternoon, when Dad and my brother came home from work, they instantly sensed the strange atmosphere in the house. Dad asked Chloe first. “What’s going on here?” Chloe immediately threw herself into Dad’s arms, rubbing her chest against his arm like a victim. She had always been pampered by the Bennetts, so she had grown into her curves nicely, something she was always proud of. “Dad… I accidentally made Mom mad today, and she still hasn’t forgiven me!” Her voice was melodic, like a songbird. Dad was just about to speak when Chloe’s inner voice dropped a bombshell. [This old hag. Once I butter up Dad, what are you going to do about it? Ugh, Dad’s body is so nice. Not like Ethan. Ethan is just a stray dog Dad picked up. Does he really think he deserves to be my brother?] Dad and my brother’s faces instantly turned a sickly shade of pale. My brother was indeed adopted. Because I had gone missing early on, the family needed an heir, so Mom and Dad adopted him. But they had always treated him as their own flesh and blood. And Chloe had arrived after my brother had already been adopted. Mom had already experienced this all afternoon, so she wasn’t surprised. Or perhaps, she already had her suspicions. She crossed her arms and looked coldly at Dad. Dad awkwardly pulled his arm out of Chloe’s grasp. “Chloe, if Mom is mad, you must have done something wrong. Apologize to her properly. Your mother is a reasonable woman.” Unable to figure out where the voice came from, Dad instinctively decided to try and mediate. My brother, however, stood to the side, staring intently at Chloe—the little sister he had always doted on. “But…” [What is wrong with Dad? That old witch, reasonable? I just accidentally pinched Harper, and she’s acting like the world is ending.] Hearing Chloe’s inner voice again, Dad and my brother stared at her in utter disbelief. But Chloe remained oblivious. She tried to throw herself back into Dad’s arms, but he pushed her away. “Chloe, you’re grown up now. You can’t keep clinging to people like this. I’ve told you this many times.” Seeing her actions, my brother finally couldn’t hold back and spoke up. Chloe’s expression turned ugly, a mix of humiliation and anger at being rejected, but she maintained her pitiful facade. “I know…” [Ethan, you are so annoying! Who do you think you are, trying to lecture me?] My brother’s face darkened further. He clamped his mouth shut and stepped aside. I stood by and watched the circus unfold. The show is just starting, my dear sister. “Alright, Harper said she wanted to wait for you two to get home to eat. She must be starving after waiting so long. Let’s eat first.” Mom spoke up to take control of the situation. Dad and my brother turned to look at me. Seeing my thin, frail frame, Dad nodded quickly. “Yes, yes, yes, let’s eat. Harper is so thin, she needs to eat more.” Chloe’s inner voice continued to echo around us. It was so bitter and venomous that, aside from her, the food tasted like ash in everyone’s mouths. [Why does Harper get to sit at the table? I’ve been with the Bennett family for so long. I am the true daughter here! Who does she think she is? Just because she was found doesn’t mean she can replace me!] [Harper is so skinny, she looks like she’s never had a real meal in her life. She looks like a twig. Such an eyesore!] My brother looked up at her, then took the piece of ribs she was about to grab and placed it in my bowl, his voice gentle. “You’re too thin, Harper. Eat more. If you can’t reach something, just tell me and I’ll get it for you.” Mom looked at me and nodded, her heart aching. She took another piece of ribs that Chloe was aiming for and put it in my bowl as well. At the same time, she instructed Maria, our housekeeper, who was standing to the side, completely petrified after hearing Chloe’s inner thoughts. “Harper just got back. Her health is poor and she needs nutrients. Pay extra attention to her. Make more nutritious meals for her. Let me know if we need to order special ingredients.” Mom turned back to look at me, her eyes full of love and sympathy. “Harper, if there’s anything you like to eat, just tell Maria and she’ll make it for you. Don’t be shy.” I nodded silently. These were things I had never experienced in my past life. After all, I didn’t have Chloe’s audacity to shamelessly demand whatever I wanted. 03 Seeing that my brother and Mom had already shown their support, Dad racked his brain until he finally came up with a new angle: “Right, we haven’t sorted out Harper’s school yet. Why not have her go to Sterling Academy? It’s owned by the family, so we won’t have to worry.” Sterling Academy was a top-tier private school owned by the Bennett family. It was named after my brother, Ethan Sterling Bennett, to show how much they valued him. Before I could even respond, Chloe shrieked: “Dad!” Her voice was so piercing that Dad frowned at her. “Chloe, why are you screaming at the dinner table?” Realizing what she had done, Chloe quickly lowered her head and put on a pitiful, concerned expression. She looked as wronged as could be. “I’m just worried that if Harper goes to Sterling, she won’t be able to keep up… After all, considering the school she went to before, her grades probably aren’t very good…” Her words reeked of passive-aggressiveness. On the surface, she was showing concern for me, but she was really reminding everyone that it was an elite school, hinting to Mom and Dad that I was too low-class to attend. “She’ll go to Sterling. You don’t need to worry about Harper’s grades. You should focus on yourself and learn from her. If you bring home another failing grade, I’m cutting off your allowance.” Mom wiped her mouth, finalizing the decision and completely ignoring Chloe’s ugly expression. Chloe had a boyfriend at school named Chase. He was essentially a local thug. Ever since she started dating him, her grades had plummeted. Just because Mom hadn’t said anything before didn’t mean she didn’t know. Bringing it up now was just her way of hoping Chloe would get her act together. But Chloe just glared resentfully at Mom’s back. I watched her turn away and sneak into a corner to make a phone call. As a figure slowly approached the corner where we were standing, I suddenly spoke up: “Chloe…” 04 “What do you want, you jinx!” Chloe frantically hung up the phone. Seeing it was me, she flew into a rage and tried to lunge forward to slap me. I didn’t dodge. I let her slap me, then deliberately threw myself to the floor. “Chloe, what do you think you’re doing?! You’re getting completely out of hand!” Dad rushed over and helped me up. Seeing the red mark on my cheek, his heart broke, and he asked with deep concern, “Are you okay, Harper? Are you dizzy?” I had braced myself when I fell, so Chloe’s slap didn’t land flush on my face. I shook my head pitifully, clutching my cheek and pulling on Dad’s sleeve. “I’m fine, Dad. Chloe might just be… afraid that my coming back will take away the love you have for her. Please don’t be mad at her.” Hearing this, Chloe’s face turned red, then white. I found it hilarious. You think you’re the only one who knows how to play the victim? I can do it too. “Harper, you are our biological daughter. It’s only right that we treat you well.” [Who does this bitch think she is? Biological daughter? Then what about all my hard work over the years? Why does Harper get to steal everything from me with just a few words? This bitch is obviously faking it!] Hearing this thought, I raised an eyebrow at Chloe. You really convinced yourself that the things you stole belong to you. You took over my life and lived off it for so long without an ounce of guilt. Perhaps remembering the joy Chloe used to bring to the family, Dad intended to comfort her. Seeing this, I lowered my head and let two tears fall. “Dad, I haven’t been here to fulfill my duties as a daughter all these years. Chloe has always been the one taking care of you at home. It’s only right that you treat her better. Chloe, if it really bothers you that much, I can move out.” Before Dad could speak, Chloe’s venomous inner voice rang out again. [Yes! Get the hell out! Give everything back to me! I am the true daughter of the Bennett family! What kind of stray mutt are you? Get out! Go die!] While thinking this, Chloe forced a smile onto her face. “Don’t think like that, sister. Why would I want you to leave? We’re family!” [What family? You bitch, get the hell out of the Bennett house! I am the true daughter!] Dad stared at Chloe in shock. The youngest daughter he had pampered for years was so two-faced. Sweet words on her lips, but a heart full of absolute poison. Dad looked at her intently, then sighed in deep disappointment. “Chloe, I hope you mean what you just said. But the mark on Harper’s face is still there. You need to remember this: we only treated you so well because you took Harper’s place. Even though we thought the orphanage made a mistake, everything you have was originally meant for Harper. We still acknowledged you as our daughter and treated you incredibly well. But now that Harper is back, she is our true biological daughter. She is the heiress of the Bennett family.” Dad delivered this speech in one breath, ignoring Chloe’s suddenly pale face. Looking exhausted, he pulled me away, saying he was going to find some ice for my cheek. He left Chloe standing behind us, screaming curses in her mind. [Bitch! Bitch! Bitch! Why? Why did everything change overnight? Why did Dad never care when I acted like this before?] [I am the heiress! I am! Who does this bitch think she is? I should have strangled her to death when they found her! Now she’s back here trying to steal my things! Bitch!] Dad’s footsteps faltered for a second, then he continued pulling me forward. 05 Whether Chloe liked it or not, I enrolled at Sterling Academy. We weren’t in the same class, but my mere presence was proof that Chloe was a fake heiress who had stolen my identity. Even before school officially started, rumors were flying everywhere. Chloe, who was used to being the center of attention, couldn’t handle the blow. To prove her status, she started finding every possible way to cause trouble for me. I coldly watched Chloe block my path on the first day of school, flanked by her thug boyfriend. “Chloe said you’ve been bullying her at home. You really think just because you’re back, you’re the boss now? Apologize to Chloe!” Chase swung a baseball bat around, acting tough, his lackeys echoing his demands from behind. I looked at Chase and sighed. “You’re standing up for Chloe, but do you know she’s sleeping with your lackey behind your back? You’ve got a whole forest of green horns growing on your head, and you’re still acting like the big man on campus.” I pointed at a lackey standing behind Chase, right next to Chloe. Chase’s face turned green. Chloe immediately started shrieking. “Harper, what the hell are you talking about?! Baby, don’t listen to her!” Chloe leaned weakly against Chase’s chest, looking like she was on the verge of tears. The lackey beside her quickly chimed in, “Yeah, boss! How could Chloe ever do something like that to you? You have to believe her! This bitch is obviously just making things up.” Chase glared fiercely and was about to speak when Chloe’s inner voice dropped like a bomb, stunning everyone around her: [What’s going on? How did Harper know about this? Did I not hide it well enough? Did Mike tell her?] Mike was the name of the lackey I had just pointed at. Chase wasn’t stupid; he immediately understood what was going on. He looked down at Chloe, who was still buried in his chest, oblivious to the fact that her inner thoughts were broadcasting loud and clear. [But you can’t really blame me, right? It’s not my fault Chase is terrible in bed. Not like Mike. He can go for over half an hour, and he’s way bigger and harder than Chase. Sigh, maybe I should hook up with him again this weekend?] Chase’s face grew darker and darker. Some of the lackeys couldn’t help but snicker. “Ch… Chloe, what did you just say?” Chase’s voice, grinding out every syllable, finally made Chloe realize he was interrogating her. The surrounding lackeys kept stealing glances at Chase’s crotch. Her face went pale as she tried to explain, but Chase violently shoved her away. Mike turned pale, glaring at Chloe for being an idiot. He was just about to run when Chase walked over to him. “Giving me a green hat, huh? Beat him!” “Wait… wait a minute! Boss, Chloe seduced me first! You can look at our texts! Chloe sent me those pictures first!” Mike trembling handed his phone to Chase. Chase snatched it, scrolled through it for a moment, then smashed the phone on the ground and walked menacingly toward Chloe. “Chloe, you’ve got some nerve, haven’t you? Did you really think I wouldn’t touch you?” Seeing him approach, Chloe scrambled backward into a corner, screaming at the top of her lungs: “You can’t touch me! I am the Bennett family heiress! The Bennetts won’t let you get away with this!” Chase laughed at this. “The Bennett heiress? You’re just a fake, and I’ve already fucked you. At most, I’ll force the Bennetts to marry you off to me. If I teach my cheating wife a lesson, do you think the Bennetts will say a damn thing?” Chloe obviously couldn’t outrun Chase. Just as his second punch was about to land, a voice rang out from behind us. 06 “You students over there! What do you think you’re doing?!” The Dean of Students rushed over furiously, leading a group of security guards. Chase glanced back, shoved Chloe—whose face was already swelling up like a balloon—aside, and fled with his lackeys. I hid my phone in my pocket, my mission accomplished. Since this was a huge incident, the parents obviously had to be called in. After all, Chloe was still nominally the Bennett heiress, and Chase’s family had some money, so the school couldn’t just sweep it under the rug. They called Mom. I don’t know exactly how it was handled, but that night when we got home, Mom was sitting on the living room sofa. Seeing me and Chloe walk in, her voice was ice-cold: “Chloe, get on your knees!” Chloe, sporting a face swollen like a pig, was completely confused. She was the one who got beaten up, and Mom was telling her to kneel? In Chloe’s mind, she was the Bennett heiress. Everyone was supposed to revolve around her. Her every frown or smile should tug at the Bennett family’s heartstrings. “Mom…” “I said, get on your knees!” Not daring to resist further, Chloe obediently knelt down. Mom stared at her coldly. It wasn’t until Chloe was sweating bullets that Mom finally spoke slowly. “Chloe, over the years, I’ve constantly asked myself if I’ve ever mistreated you or failed in my duties as a mother. Not just me—your father, your brother, every single one of us has held you in the palm of our hands. But what have you done? Even when Harper came back, we didn’t ask you to leave. Maybe we were wrong from the very beginning. A person who can seamlessly steal another person’s life without a shred of guilt will always be an ungrateful wretch.” Chloe didn’t understand why Mom was suddenly speaking so harshly. Seeing her confused look, Mom scoffed. She grabbed a stack of printed papers from the sofa next to her and threw them right in Chloe’s face. The papers flew everywhere, many landing on Chloe’s face. She reached out and caught one. They were all various chat logs from her phone, explicit photos, and messages cursing and insulting Mom. But that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was that they detailed exactly how she had stolen my identity, how she had been secretly going to clinics over the years to look more like me, and how she had used the Bennett name to act like a tyrant outside, planting huge time bombs for our family.

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The blue light from the laptop screen was the only thing illuminating the dark bedroom. My fingertips trembled as I typed my husband’s name into the county property records database. When the first result popped up, I managed to keep my breathing steady—it was our current home, the one we’d shared for five years. But the second entry hit me like a physical blow, the red text searing into my retinas. Unit 1103, Building 17, Riverview Estates. Registered date: three years ago. The autumn before our wedding. This wasn’t a mistake. That luxury condo in the city’s top-tier school district—the one I’d practically begged him to look at for years—had been in his name all along. My mind raced back to two hours ago, to the envelope that had slipped out of a pile of junk mail. It was addressed to Mark, and a faint pencil notation of a property address in the corner had made my stomach drop. “We don’t own a place there, do we?” I had asked, handing it to him. I watched his Adam’s apple bob twice as he swallowed hard. His hand shook as he reached for the paper, but his voice was breezy, dismissive. “Just some real estate spam, honey. I’ll toss it.” Now, looking at the screen, I realized how many lies were packed into his frequent sighs about “not having enough for a down payment.” From the very beginning, he never intended for this house—for us—to be his only destination. In the hallway, our daughter, Sophie, whispered, “Mommy, why are you crying?” I bit my lip until I tasted copper, unable to find my voice. This man had taken the future that belonged to us and tucked it away under another name. … I waited until he was dead to the world before I slipped into the home office. The desk drawer was locked. I tried his birthday as the passcode. Click. The envelope was at the very bottom, already torn open. “Notice of Eligibility Verification for 2026 Primary School Enrollment.” I stared at the words until they blurred. Every time he saw me looking wistfully at listings in that neighborhood, what had been going through his head? I picked up his phone. I entered his usual PIN. Incorrect. I tried his thumbprint while he slept? No, he’d wake up. When had he even changed his passcode? I realized with a sickening jolt that I didn’t know the man sleeping thirty feet away. I tried the condo number: 171103. Ding. Unlocked. Mark was meticulous. He had scrubbed his texts and call logs clean. I found nothing until I dug back through years of Venmo transactions. A single payment of $1,314—I love you forever in digital code—sent to an obscure, unlinked account led me to a private Instagram page. April 12, 2020. Barely a month after our wedding. The photo was of a man’s bare back. I’d know that mole on his shoulder blade anywhere. “Been sleeping with Big M for months now. He’s a total beast in bed.” January 2, 2021. The night of my first miscarriage. I had spent the night alone in a hospital bed, weeping until my eyes were swollen shut. Mark told me he had to stay late for a client. The photo was of the nursery we’d just finished, the handmade quilt I’d spent weeks sewing draped over the crib. “The thrill is unbelievable. His wife is at the hospital losing her kid, and we’re doing it in the nursery. We got her precious quilt soaking wet.” August 9, 2022. I was in the throes of postpartum depression, barely hanging on to my sanity. The photo was of our master bedroom. “First time doing it at his place while she’s actually in the house. He’s such a risk-taker. Best high ever.” I gasped for air, my lungs seizing. I clutched my hair, pulling until it hurt, trying to distract myself from the phantom needles stabbing at my heart. I wanted to scream, but I choked it back. Suddenly, a memory surfaced. Our downstairs neighbor had complained once: “Tell your wife to keep it down at night, it’s embarrassing!” I had been confused. Mark and I hadn’t been intimate in months, and I was always asleep by ten. Mark had brushed it off, calling the neighbor a “crazy, low-class prick.” Now, I had my answer. I stood up and looked around the room—this space that felt like a stranger’s house. Details I’d ignored started screaming at me. The smart speaker was always playing lo-fi beats I hated, even after I reset my preferences. The towels in the bathroom were folded into thirds, not halves like I did. The thermostat was always set to 68 degrees, a few degrees colder than I liked. The evidence was everywhere. This woman didn’t just have a secret home with my husband. She had been in my home. Sleeping in my bed. Leaving her scent on my things. It was a performance. A territorial marking. A cheap thrill. And I had been the oblivious fool. I bit my lip so hard the blood finally ran. I sat in that office until the sun came up. That afternoon, a text popped up on my phone. “Dinner at my mom’s tonight. Be there by six.” “Okay,” I replied. I’ve always been a woman of dignity. Even if this was the end, I didn’t want it to be ugly. But when I walked into my mother-in-law’s house, I froze. Mark and his mother both looked like they’d seen a ghost. But the woman on the sofa—a woman Mark was currently hand-feeding a slice of peach—just looked me up and down. She scanned me like I was a piece of trash she’d found on the bottom of her shoe. She wasn’t satisfied with secret trysts anymore. She wanted the main stage. “What are you doing here?” Mark asked, his smile turning into a grimace. “You texted me to come,” I said. Looking at the panic in his eyes, I realized the truth. She had sent that text from his phone without him knowing. She wanted this confrontation. “Oh… right. I… I forgot. Yeah,” Mark stammered, his face turning a blotchy red. There were three place settings on the table. None of them were for me. A lump formed in my throat, bitter and thick. My mother-in-law looked at me with nothing but disdain. “You should have called before dropping in.” “I… I’m sorry,” I managed, though I didn’t know why I was apologizing. “Anyway, this is Melanie,” Mark said, his eyes darting toward the floor. “A friend. She just came by to see Mom.” “Yes, Melanie is such a sweetheart,” his mother added, flashing a smile at the woman on the couch. “She even bought me this gold tennis bracelet.” Melanie didn’t look at me. She didn’t acknowledge my existence. She sat there like she already owned the place. Looking at my mother-in-law, all I could see was the Instagram photo of the nursery. I felt a wave of nausea so strong I had to bolt for the bathroom. I dry-heaved over the toilet, nothing coming up but bile. As I splashed water on my face, I heard their voices through the door. Mark’s tone was playfully scolding. “You little brat, why didn’t you tell me you invited her? You’re trouble.” “I just wanted to see her pathetic face when she realized she wasn’t invited,” Melanie purred. “And remember, you’re not allowed to touch her tonight.” “Please. Touching her is like touching a cold statue. She’s got nothing on you, you little wildcat.” My world fractured. The “late nights” at the office. The “stress” that meant he couldn’t be intimate with me. It wasn’t work. It was a promise to her. I looked at my face in the mirror—the tired eyes, the skin that hadn’t seen a spa in years because we were “saving money.” I felt like a bomb was about to go off in my chest. But I couldn’t lose control. Not yet. Melanie wanted me to go crazy. She wanted the drama, the screaming, the loss of my “class.” That would be her victory lap. I wouldn’t give it to her. I dried my face, took a breath, and walked out. “Something came up. I have to go,” I said. The door slammed behind me—heavy and final. I sat in my car and buried my face in my hands, tears finally leaking through my fingers. All those years. All that sacrifice. For what? Mark announced the next morning that he had another “business trip.” I didn’t help him pack this time. I knew I had to move. I needed leverage before the house of cards collapsed completely. As soon as his car pulled out of the driveway, I drove to his office. He’d always told me it was too far, that he was too busy for “lunch dates,” so I’d never been. “Is Mark in?” I asked the receptionist. “Oh, no, he’s out for the day. He took a personal day to take his son to that regional piano competition,” she said casually. Then, she turned to the girl next to her. “Honestly, Mark is such a girl-dad—wait, no, he has a son, right? Anyway, he’s a total family man. He’s always showing us photos of his ‘wife’ and the boy’s trophies. He’s so attentive when she visits the office.” The blood rushed to my head so fast I felt dizzy. Sophie had begged for piano lessons last week. Mark had snapped at her, telling her it was a “waste of money” and that “girls don’t need to be pampered with expensive hobbies.” And yet, he was at a competition for a son I didn’t know existed. “Are you okay?” the receptionist asked. “Who did you say you were with?” “I’m his wife,” I said, my voice sounding like it was coming from underwater. “We have a daughter. She’s in preschool.” I don’t know what her face looked like as I walked away. I probably looked like a lunatic. I went home in a trance. The smell of Melanie’s perfume seemed to linger on every surface. I went to Mark’s computer again. I found a hidden folder. I scrolled through the photos, and with every click, I felt like I was sinking deeper into a frozen lake. While I was recovering from childbirth alone, she was at a five-star postpartum wellness retreat. My daughter wore hand-me-downs from neighbors; her son was dressed in designer labels. While Sophie was hospitalized with a 104-degree fever, Mark was “at a conference” in Cabo with Melanie and the boy. I checked our joint savings account—the one he managed because he was “the finance guy.” Balance: $0.42. He wasn’t “investing” our future. He was liquidating it to build a life for another woman. I shook so hard I couldn’t stand. The sacrifice had only been mine. The suffering had only been Sophie’s. I looked at our wedding photo on the wall. I smashed it. I looked at the laptop. I smashed it. I went to the closet and took a pair of shears to every single one of his custom-tailored suits. I threw his toothbrush in the trash. I called a locksmith. And then, I went to the one place I knew I could find them. I waited outside the elementary school. When Melanie walked out, holding a young boy’s hand, she spotted me instantly. She tried to turn away, but I blocked her path. She immediately went on the offensive, her voice shrill and loud. “You crazy bitch! Get away from us! Stop stalking my husband!” Parents began to circle. Melanie’s eyes turned red, and she pulled the boy into a protective hug, looking like the victim of a deranged predator. “This woman is obsessed with my husband!” she cried out to the crowd. “She’s been harassing us for weeks! She’s trying to kidnap my son!” I was floored by the sheer audacity. She was spending my money, sleeping with my husband, and calling me the intruder. “You’re a liar!” I shouted back. “You’re the mistress! You’re the one who destroyed my marriage!” Melanie sobbed harder, her whole body shaking. “You’re insane! Everyone here knows Mark. He’s at every PTA meeting. He’s my husband!” A woman from the crowd stepped forward. “She’s right. This boy is in my son’s class. Mark is a great father. We see him here all the time.” The crowd turned on me. The whispers were like venom. “She’s clearly off her meds.” “Look at her, she’s a wreck. No wonder he wouldn’t want her.” “Get out of here before we call the cops, you psycho!” Melanie’s son stepped forward and kicked me hard in the shin. “Leave my daddy alone, you ugly lady!” I stood there, surrounded by people pointing fingers and hurling insults. “She’s the one who’s cheating! That kid is a bastard!” I screamed, but no one was listening. In this world, the most shameless person wins. I was the wife, the one who had played by the rules, and I was being branded a criminal. Then Mark’s car pulled up. He jumped out, and for a split second, a tiny, pathetic part of me hoped he would say something. Anything. “Stop, she’s my wife.” Just a shred of truth to make the last few years feel like they weren’t a total hallucination. But he didn’t. He threw his arms around Melanie, shielding her. “Are you okay? I’m here. Don’t be scared,” he whispered—a tenderness he hadn’t shown me in years. Then he turned to me, his face a mask of pure hatred. He shoved me back. “What is wrong with you? Get the hell out of here! I told you it’s over! I love Melanie! Stop harassing my family!” The way he looked at me… it was like he wanted me dead. He ushered them toward the car. Melanie looked back over her shoulder and gave me a small, victorious smile. The crowd’s jeering continued. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. “I have the marriage certificate,” I muttered. The noise dropped an octave. I reached into my bag and pulled out the legal document. “She really is the wife,” someone whispered. “Wait, so Melanie was lying the whole time?” “God, what a piece of work. Both of them.” Mark’s face turned feral. He lunged forward, snatched the certificate from my hands, and ripped it into confetti. “It’s a fake! She’s a stalker with a printer!” He leaned into my ear, his voice a low, terrifying hiss. “Play nice, and maybe I’ll let you keep the house. If you don’t, remember that my best friend is the head of the psychiatry department at the city hospital. I’ll have you committed so fast your head will spin. And I won’t spend a single dime or a single second on Sophie. I’ll let her rot in foster care.” He shoved me to the ground. He turned around, put his arm around Melanie, and drove away without looking back. My knees were scraped and bleeding, but I didn’t feel it. My heart was already in pieces. The daughter I cherished was nothing more than a bargaining chip to him—a piece of “trash” he was willing to discard. I thought that even if he didn’t love me, he’d love his own blood. I was wrong. He wasn’t a man; he was a predator. I wiped the blood from my knee and pulled out my phone. I dialed a number. “Attorney Paige? I’m sending you the recordings and the documents now. I want to file for bigamy and embezzlement. I want everything.”

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Fifteen years ago, my mother was dying. To scrape together the fifty thousand dollars for her emergency surgery, I did the unthinkable: I sold a piece of myself. I sold my kidney. The moment that blood money—the price of my future health—hit my account, my husband swept it clean. He didn’t use it for the surgery. He used it to buy a three-carat diamond ring for his brother’s widow, a woman he’d been sleeping with behind my back for years. Because I couldn’t pay the hospital, my mother passed away that very night. While I was drowning in grief, my husband showed up at the hospital with his sister-in-law on his arm, coldly demanding a divorce. My father’s heart couldn’t take the shock; he collapsed right there, and even the trauma nurses were screaming at my husband, calling him a subhuman monster. I didn’t scream. I didn’t fight. With a terrifying, hollowed-out calm, I signed the papers and walked away with nothing. My father disowned me for my “weakness,” and my relatives branded me a spineless traitor who let her mother’s killer walk free. For fifteen years, I let them whisper. I never defended myself. Not once. Until yesterday. I found out through the grapevine that my ex-husband’s son—the boy he raised with that woman—just got accepted into the State Police Academy. I picked up the phone and dialed the Background Investigation Unit. I’ve waited fifteen years. My moment has finally arrived. … 1 “Background Investigation Unit, Sergeant Miller speaking. How can I help you?” The voice was crisp, professional. I pressed my hand against my racing heart, my voice thin and trembling. “I’m calling to report a candidate.” The line went sharp. “A report? Ma’am, please state the name of the individual and the nature of the information.” I took a shaky breath. “I’m reporting a recruit in this year’s class. Tyler Vance. His father is a man of documented moral turpitude—a man who committed financial fraud and abandoned his family during a medical crisis. There are outstanding debts and a history of extreme ethical violations.” The sergeant sounded surprised. “Are you certain about these allegations? This call is being recorded for the official record. You will be held responsible for the veracity of your statement.” “I am certain,” I whispered, the words tasting like iron. “I stake my life on it.” How could I not be certain? I’d rehearsed this speech in the dark for over five thousand nights. I’d polished every syllable until it was sharp enough to draw blood. “Stay on the line, Ma’am. I’m bringing my commanding officer into this conversation. One moment.” I waited, listening to the muffled sounds of a busy office. “What? A formal complaint against Vance?” “Yes, Lieutenant. She’s on the line now.” “Damn. Vance is at the top of the class. His PT scores were off the charts…” “The whistleblower is waiting.” “Fine. Patch her through to me.” I picked at the peeling wallpaper of my cramped apartment. The cheap drywall crumbled under my fingernails, leaving a fine white dust on my skin—a pale shroud for a life that had been covered in ash for fifteen years. “Hello, Ma’am. This is Lieutenant Rodriguez. Can you identify your relationship to the candidate’s family?” I pulled my lips into a bitter line. “I was Tyler’s father’s first wife. The woman he robbed to fund his life with Tyler’s mother.” There was a heavy silence on the other end. “Go ahead. Tell me everything.” I closed my eyes, the ghost of a phantom pain radiating from the scar on my side. I let the memories drag me under. “Fifteen years ago, my mother was diagnosed with acute liver failure.” We were a typical middle-class family. My father and I were blindsided by the cost of the transplant. We begged, we borrowed, we took out predatory loans, but it was a drop in the bucket. In those weeks, it felt like my father and I had cried ourselves dry. I learned that when you hit the bottom of despair, the tears stop. You just become a machine. We sat in that hospital hallway, night after night, watching the light fade from my mother’s eyes. One night, I saw my father hitting his head against the brick wall of the hospital, sobbing that he was useless. That was the moment I made my choice. I went through a series of shaded contacts until I found a broker for the underground organ trade. He was a cold man who looked at me like a piece of USDA Choice beef. He offered me fifty thousand for a kidney. Fifty thousand. Exactly what we needed for the down payment on the surgery. I lay down on a rusted operating table in a basement clinic. I will never forget the smell of stale bleach or the way the cheap anesthetic failed halfway through. I bit my tongue until it bled to keep from screaming as they took a part of me. I crawled out of that clinic, clutching my side, and staggered to the hospital to pay the bill. But when I got to the cashier, the card was declined. Panic seized me. I called the bank. The teller told me the entire balance had been transferred out two hours after the deposit. The recipient? My husband, Rick. I couldn’t breathe. I called Rick over and over. On the twentieth try, someone finally picked up. It wasn’t Rick. It was Lydia, his brother’s widow. 2 “Oh, it’s you,” Lydia said, her voice dripping with a smug, honeyed cruelty. “Why are you calling? Rick is busy helping me pick out jewelry. He doesn’t have time for your drama.” My blood turned to ice. I’d suspected something was going on between them. Rick and I had been fighting for months, and I’d even brought up divorce, but then my mother got sick. I’d been so focused on the hospital that I hadn’t realized they’d stopped even trying to hide it. “Put Rick on the phone! That money—that’s for my mother! It’s her life!” Lydia let out a light, airy laugh. “What ‘life’? Rick said that money was just sitting there, rotting. He thought we should use it for something beautiful, something permanent. I’m looking at a three-carat princess cut right now. It’s exactly fifty thousand.” “It’s fate, really,” she continued. “Your mother was going to die anyway. Why waste good money on a lost cause when you can invest in our future? Rick always promised me a real ring. Consider it a gift for our engagement.” In the background, I heard Rick’s impatient voice. “Stop talking to her, babe. The jeweler’s waiting for the wire to clear. Let’s get the ring and head back to the hotel.” Lydia giggled, a sound that made my skin crawl. “Don’t be so impatient, you naughty boy.” Then, she hung up. I called until my battery died. I called every friend we had. I finally found out they’d flown to Chicago that morning for a ‘romantic getaway.’ It was a six-hour flight. My mother didn’t have six hours. I don’t remember walking back to her room. I just remember my father’s face, bright with hope. “Maggie! Did you get it? The doctor says if we pay now, they can prep the OR!” I looked at him. I looked at the frail, yellowed woman in the bed. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. The physical trauma of the surgery combined with the crushing weight of the betrayal was too much. I collapsed on the hospital floor. When I woke up, my father was sitting by my bed. He looked like he’d aged a decade in a single night. “She’s gone, Maggie.” Because of the delay, my mother never woke up. My father had to watch her slip away while I was unconscious in the next ward. He asked me, “You said you had the money. What happened?” I told him everything, except the part about the kidney. I told him Rick took the money. My father’s face went from pale to a ghostly, translucent white. I struggled out of bed, trailing my IV stand, desperate to see her one last time. But when I reached the morgue entrance, I saw the last people on earth I expected. Rick and Lydia were there. They hadn’t come to mourn. They hadn’t come to apologize. They stood there, arms entwined, looking down at me like I was something they’d stepped in. On Lydia’s finger, the diamond caught the harsh fluorescent light, mocking me with its brilliance. Rick looked at my mother’s body through the glass and scoffed. “Well, she’s dead now. At least you don’t have to worry about the bills. Anyway, I brought the papers. I want a divorce. I’m marrying Lydia.” My father started shaking. He pointed a finger at Rick’s chest. “You animal! You stole her life! How dare you show your face here—” He couldn’t finish. He clutched his chest, his face turning a terrifying shade of purple, and he hit the floor. “Dad! Dad!” I screamed, throwing myself over him. The hospital staff swarmed in. A nurse who knew our situation recognized Rick and Lydia. She turned on them, her voice shaking with rage. “Get out! You stole that woman’s surgery money for a ring? You’re not even human! Get out before I call security!” In the chaos, as they carted my father away to the ICU, I looked at my husband’s cold, indifferent eyes and Lydia’s triumphant smile. Something inside me snapped. The pain vanished, replaced by a cold, hard vacuum. I stood up, wiped the tears from my face, and looked Rick in the eye. “Fine. I’ll sign.” Rick blinked, surprised by my sudden compliance. “Good. Smart girl. But don’t think you’re getting a dime of that fifty thousand back. It’s gone.” “I don’t want it,” I said, my voice dead. “I’ll walk away with nothing. No alimony, no assets. Just give me the papers.” “Maggie, are you crazy?!” My father had regained consciousness as the medics stabilized him. He looked at me with pure horror. “Your mother isn’t even cold yet! You’re just going to let him go? You coward! I don’t even know who you are anymore. Get out! If you won’t fight for her, you aren’t my daughter!” The relatives who had gathered in the hall looked at me with disgust. I heard them whispering. Weak. Pathetic. She’s so obsessed with him she’ll let him kill her mother and still crawl back for more. Lydia leaned into Rick, smirking. I didn’t explain. I didn’t tell them I was too weak to fight because I was literally missing an organ. I just signed the name ‘Maggie Vance’ for the last time. My father disowned me on the spot. Rick and Lydia walked out like they’d won the lottery. I was escorted out of the hospital by the very people who had tried to save my mother. I left that city like a ghost. I moved to a different state, rented a windowless basement, and started a life of silence. That was fifteen years ago. 3 Life hasn’t been kind. Without a kidney and with a heart full of lead, I couldn’t hold down a high-stress job. I worked temp roles, lived in the shadows of the city, and spent my nights in a bed that felt like a coffin. I never blocked Rick on social media. Maybe it was because I’d made the divorce so easy for him that he never felt the need to hide his “happiness.” For fifteen years, I’ve been a silent witness to their life. They got married in a lavish ceremony months after I left. They had a son—Tyler. Rick’s profile was a shrine to the boy. Every trophy, every honor roll, every football win was documented. Rick was so proud. Yesterday, I saw the post that changed everything. It was a gallery of photos. In the center was a young man in a crisp uniform, his jaw set with pride. Rick’s caption read: “So proud of my son, Tyler! Passed the physical and the interview for the State Police Academy! Top 10% in the state. He’s going to be a hero. The Vance legacy starts here. Our ancestors are smiling down on us!” I stared at that screen all night. When the sun finally began to peek through my basement window, I started to laugh. It wasn’t a normal laugh. It was a jagged, hysterical sound that tore through the silence of fifteen years. I hadn’t cried since the night my father kicked me out. I’d let the world believe I was a spineless “love-brain” who didn’t care about her mother’s death. I’d let my own father die in his heart thinking I was a traitor. I didn’t care. I had waited fifteen years for this specific moment. “That’s the whole story,” I said into the phone. My throat felt like it was filled with glass. I hadn’t spoken this many words in a decade. I lived like an insect in the dark, fueled only by the singular goal of survival. Lieutenant Rodriguez was silent for a long time. I almost thought the line had dropped. Finally, he spoke. “Ma’am, we have recorded your statement. Can you swear that everything you’ve told me is the truth, and are you willing to testify to these facts?” “I am,” I said, my voice like iron. “Thank you for coming forward. We will be launching an immediate internal investigation. Until the veracity of these claims is determined, Tyler Vance’s enrollment will be suspended indefinitely.” I hung up and collapsed onto the floor. The strength I’d been hoarding for fifteen years evaporated in an instant. Fifteen years. I’d been a bug under their boots. But even a bug can trip a giant if it waits for the right moment. Mom, can you see me? The bug found her stiletto. Now, I’m becoming the monster they deserve.

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Ten years. That’s how long I’d been living in this world. I was lost in my usual mid-morning fog when it happened—the text appeared. Without warning, glowing words began to drift across my vision like a live comment feed on a streaming site. [The ‘Bad Boy vs. Sweet Girl’ trope is such a classic. Totally here for it.] Another one scrolled past: [Iconic scene incoming! The Male Lead is about to use his ‘toxic charm’ to get the girl’s attention.] Right on cue, my pathetic excuse for a childhood friend opened his mouth. His tone was laced with that specific brand of arrogance that made my skin crawl. He looked at the new girl, a transfer student who looked like she’d been carved out of porcelain, and sneered. “Well, look what we have here. The little homecoming queen from the rival school. What’s the matter, sweetheart? Did you run out of boys to play with over there, so you came here for some fresh meat?” A wave of sycophantic laughter erupted around the classroom. At the front of the room, the girl—Sophie Bennett—looked like she’d been struck. Her eyes welled up, rimmed with a painful, sudden red. The screen in my mind flickered again: [Ugh, look at Sophie’s face. My heart is breaking. She’s so precious.] [I bet the ‘Mean Girl’ is losing it right now. Her childhood crush is flirting with someone else right in front of her.] [Oh, for sure. She’s probably brewing some psycho plan to destroy Sophie as we speak.] I stared at the floating text, a dry, sharp laugh bubbling up in my chest. Why was the script always the same? Why did the “other woman” always have to be the villain? I didn’t think. I just acted. I stood up, walked over to Carl Ridgeway, and delivered a slap so loud it echoed against the chalkboard. … 1 [Wait, what just happened?] [Why did the Villainess hit the Male Lead? Has she lost her mind?] The comments were flying now, a blur of confusion. In the back of my mind, a mechanical voice—the “System”—started screaming. “Host! What are you doing? You can’t hit the Male Lead!” “Why not?” I retorted silently. “Your mission is to disrupt their romance, but there are rules—” “You said I needed to break them up,” I interrupted. “You never said how. I’m the villainess, right? Bullies don’t discriminate. I’ll bully whoever I want.” The System went dead silent, stumped by my logic. Carl was staring at me, his cheek blooming into a violent shade of crimson. He looked utterly bewildered. “Maddy? What the hell was that for?” “For being a prick,” I said, my voice cold and level. I looked down at him with a flick of pure disdain. “If you can’t open your mouth without trash falling out, maybe you should just sew it shut. Spreading rumors about a girl you don’t even know? Have some dignity, Carl. It’s pathetic.” Carl’s face went from pale to a mottled, angry purple. The veins in his neck were pulsing. Around us, the whispers started. “Did Madeline Sinclair just defend the new girl?” “This doesn’t make sense. She’s been obsessed with Carl since they were in diapers.” “She’s clearly jealous! It’s a move. She’s acting out to get his attention.” Hearing that, Carl’s posture relaxed slightly. A smug, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Oh, I get it. You’re jealous, Maddy.” He stood up, leaning into my space with that insufferable confidence. “If you wanted me to notice you, you could have just said so. This whole ‘tough girl’ act? It’s a little desperate, don’t you think? Women and their envy… it’s a terrifying thing.” I wanted to laugh. I really did. But he wasn’t done. He turned toward the front of the room and let out a sharp whistle at Sophie. “Hear that, Sophie? My girl’s a bit territorial. Consider yourself lucky—I’ll stop teasing you for today. Why don’t you come over here and thank me?” Sophie gripped the hem of her cardigan, her knuckles white. She bit her lip so hard I thought it might bleed. [Aaaaah, he’s so smooth!] [He says he’ll stop, but he can’t help teasing her. He’s already obsessed!] [The Villainess must be fuming! He still prefers Sophie!] I took a long, deep breath. I really tried to hold it back. I failed. SMACK! The second slap was even harder than the first. Carl actually staggered back, clutching his face. I didn’t even give him a second glance. I walked up to Sophie, grabbed her wrist, and led her toward the empty seat next to mine. “Sit here,” I told her. “Ignore him. He’s a glitch in the system.” Sophie looked at me, her eyes wide and shimmering with unshed tears. She looked like a deer caught in high beams. “Madeline!” Carl roared, his face contorted. “That’s twice! You hit me twice!” I didn’t turn around. “Open your mouth again, and I’ll make it a hat-trick.” Carl’s chest heaved, his face a mask of humiliated rage, but he didn’t say another word. He spent the rest of the afternoon stewing in a silent, radioactive temper. It stayed quiet. Until school let out. Then, the feed exploded. [Here it is! The iconic scene!] [The Male Lead hired some guys to corner her in the alley. Sophie’s going to be so scared and adorable!] [I can’t wait! She gets bullied, and then he swoops in to play the hero! Classic Knight in Shining Armor move!] My stomach turned. I grabbed my bag and sprinted toward the shortcut behind the gym. I rounded the corner and saw them. Carl was crouching behind a dumpster with a few of his cronies, looking like a kid on Christmas morning. In the center of the alley, Sophie was surrounded by four massive guys. She was trembling, backed against the brick wall. I didn’t hesitate. I dropped my bag and charged. The first guy didn’t even see me coming. I planted a side-kick into his ribs that sent him sprawling. Then I moved—fluid, fast, and rhythmic. One by one, I put them on the pavement. As the “thugs” groaned on the ground, the comments went haywire. [What the hell? This wasn’t in the script! Where is Carl?] [Is the Villainess glitching? Why is she in the alley?] [Am I the only one wondering how Madeline Sinclair just took down four guys who weigh two hundred pounds each?] I wiped a bead of sweat from my forehead and smirked at the text. They clearly hadn’t done their homework. In my life before I woke up in this story, I was a high-performance combat instructor. These guys were nothing compared to a room full of marines. “Madeline!” A scream of pure fury erupted behind me. Carl stormed out from behind the dumpster, looking at his hired help on the ground. His face was a sickly shade of green. “What is wrong with you?! Who told you to interfere?!” I turned slowly, watching his temper tantrum with a bored expression. “Oh, good. You’re here.” Before he could process the words, I lunged forward and kicked the back of his knee. He let out a strangled yelp as he hit the concrete, his kneecaps cracking against the pavement. I grabbed him by the collar and dragged him over to Sophie. “Apologize,” I commanded. “What?” Carl gasped, his eyes bulging. “You want me to apologize to her?” “You hired people to terrify a classmate so you could play hero. Yeah, I think an apology is the bare minimum.” Carl’s jaw set. “I can do whatever I want. I’m not apologizing to some nobody.” I looked at him, a cold smile touching my lips, and landed a sharp kick to his side. “Are you going to apologize?” “Ow! Stop! Madeline, you’ve lost your damn mind! I’m telling you, I will never—” I kicked him again. And again. I didn’t say a word; I just kept a steady, punishing rhythm. [God, is she trying to kill him?] [I don’t understand her at all. Doesn’t she love him? This is brutal.] [Love? She’s about to put him in a body bag!] “Okay! Okay, stop!” Carl finally broke. He collapsed into a heap, gasping for air. “I’ll do it! Just stop!” He looked up at Sophie, who was huddled in the corner. His face was a mask of pure humiliation. “I’m… I’m sorry.” Sophie stared at him, then at me. Her mouth worked, but no sound came out. I was about to give Carl one last “parting gift” with my boot when I felt a small hand tugging at my sleeve. “Please… don’t,” Sophie whispered. Her voice was thin. “If you… if you keep going, you’ll get in trouble. You might hurt him too badly.” She looked at me, her eyes searching mine. “Thank you. For today in class, too. Thank you for speaking up for me.” She paused, her voice softening. “You’re a really good person, Madeline.” I felt a sudden, uncomfortable heat rise in my cheeks. I looked away, pulling my arm back. “I didn’t do it for you.” I was the villainess. I wasn’t supposed to be “good.” I just… hated seeing a prick pull a girl’s pigtails and call it romance. “Why are you thanking her?” Carl had managed to haul himself up against the wall. He let out a raspy, bitter laugh. “I’m telling you, Sophie, she’s only doing this because she’s obsessed with me. She’s trying to look like the ‘bigger person’ to get my attention.” He turned his gaze to Sophie, his expression shifting into something he probably thought was soulful. “Look, Sophie. I said those things because I like you. I arranged this whole thing because I wanted to be the one to save you.” His voice dropped an octave, dripping with manufactured sincerity. “From the moment I saw you, I knew. Just say you’ll be mine, and I’ll never let anyone hurt you again.” [Aww, so romantic! He confessed so early!] [It’s all because the Villainess kept messing things up. She must be dying inside right now!] [Sophie, say yes! He only bullied you because he’s crazy about you!] I watched the screen, feeling a genuine wave of nausea. Bullying as a love language? If that’s love, I’d rather have the plague. Sophie shrank back behind me. “If I say no… will he hit me?” she asked in a tiny voice. I froze. According to the “rules” of these stories, shouldn’t the heroine be moved to tears by his grand gesture? Why was she asking that? But I answered her anyway. “If he touches you, I’ll end him.” Sophie’s eyes brightened instantly. “You’re so brave, Madeline.” She turned back to Carl, her voice clear and steady. “I understand what you’re saying. But the answer is no. I don’t like you. In fact, I find you quite repulsive. Please stay away from me.” Then, she took my hand and pulled me away, leaving Carl standing in the dark alley, frozen in shock. [The Lead got rejected? How is that possible?] [And why is she holding the Villainess’s hand? What is happening to the plot?] [Don’t worry, the story will fix itself. He’ll chase her, and they’ll end up together. They always do.] The System’s voice chimed in my head. “Host, that was… unconventional. But effective. You’ve successfully tanked his favorability rating. However, he’s going to get desperate now. What’s the plan?” I smiled. “Let him try.” But even I underestimated how delusional he was. The next morning, I walked onto campus to the sound of the PA system crackling to life. “Attention, students. This is Carl Ridgeway.” The courtyard went silent. “I have a special announcement. I’ve written a letter for a very special girl in our class… Sophie Bennett.” The school exploded into gossip instantly. “A love letter? No way, Carl is actually serious about her?” “She’s so lucky. Imagine having a guy like that fall for you.” “She probably seduced him. Look at her, she looks like a total homewrecker.” The whispers grew louder, sharper. Thousands of judgmental eyes latched onto Sophie. She looked like she wanted to melt into the floor. “Madeline…” she whispered, her eyes brimming with red. SLAM. I stood up, nearly flipping my desk, and bolted for the door. I burst into the AV room. Carl was leaning over the microphone, looking smugly satisfied with himself. When he saw me, his eyes lit up with that same “I’ve got you” look. “Jealous again?” He turned off the mic and leaned back in the chair. “Look, I know you’ve got a thing for me, Maddy. But you need to learn some self-control. Tell you what—help me get Sophie, and when I’m bored with her, maybe I’ll give you a shot—” “I’d rather eat glass,” I spat, stepping aside to reveal the people behind me. Three police officers filed into the cramped room, looking grim. “Carl Ridgeway?” the lead officer asked. “We’ve received a report of targeted harassment and stalking. You’re coming with us to the station.” Carl’s face went white. He whipped his head toward me. “You called the cops?” I tilted my head, giving him a sweet, innocent smile. Then I turned to the officers, my voice trembling just enough. “Officers, please. He’s been relentless. We’re just two girls trying to get an education, and we’re both so… so scared.” The officer looked at me, then at Sophie—who was doing her best impression of a shivering leaf in the doorway—and his expression hardened. “Don’t worry, kids. We’ll handle this.” As they led Carl away in handcuffs, he looked like his brain had short-circuited. He was shouting something through the window of the squad car, but I couldn’t hear him. The feed was going nuclear. [The Male Lead got arrested? The plot is dead!] [Actually… if you think about it, he was being a total stalker…] [I’ve been saying this! That ‘bullying as love’ crap is so toxic. This is actually satisfying.] I nodded inwardly. Finally, some common sense. Carl was gone for a few days, reportedly getting a very stern lesson in “consent” and “harassment.” Life for Sophie returned to a peaceful hum. No more rumors, no more “love letters,” no more thugs in alleys. The System informed me that Sophie’s affection for Carl was now in the negatives. The romance was dead. Mission accomplished. I felt lighter than I had in years. I thought maybe he’d learned his lesson. I thought he’d stay away. I was wrong. The day he got out, I woke up in a dark room, my wrists and ankles bound tight with nylon rope. Carl’s lackey was hovering over me, a greasy grin on his face. “Morning, Princess. Don’t worry, we won’t touch you. You’re just here to watch the show.” [Quick, Madeline! Sophie’s been lured into a trap!] [He’s going to drug her and make it look like she lost her ‘purity’ so he can ‘save’ her reputation by marrying her!] [Everyone will judge her, and he’ll be the only one who ‘accepts’ her. She’ll be so grateful!] I stared at the text, my blood turning to ice. Outside the room, I could hear the distant thud of music. The school’s Winter Ball. Through a small crack in the boarded-up window, I could see the gym lights. Suddenly, the music stopped. “Where’s Sophie? Has anyone seen Sophie Bennett?” The panic started to spread. “I saw her leaving with some guys earlier! What if something happened?” The crowd began to move, searching. Eventually, they stopped in front of a heavy, oak door in the basement of the theater building. Muffled, suggestive sounds were coming from behind the door. The crowd went dead silent. “Is that… is that Sophie?” “We have to help her! Break it down!” A group of guys threw themselves against the door, bursting it open. But the scene inside wasn’t what anyone expected. The room froze. “What are you all doing here?” Sophie’s voice came from the hallway behind them. I was standing right next to her, looking over the heads of the crowd, my hand over my mouth in mock horror. “Oh my god,” I gasped. “Carl? What… what is he doing?”

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When I opened my eyes, the first thing I smelled wasn’t the sterile, cold scent of a hospital room. It was high-octane fuel and burnt rubber. I was back. Back to the day the official race circuit was announced. In my past life, the supercar I had spent three years meticulously engineering was a carbon copy of Beau Montgomery’s. Even though I’d released a time-lapse of the entire build to prove my innocence, all it took was one tearful video from Beau. He’d looked into the camera, playing the martyr, and told his millions of followers, “Just let Jamie have the design. He clearly needs it more than I do. I’ll just have to rely on my raw talent to win.” That one sentence branded me a thief in the eyes of the world. The next day, as I turned the ignition, a rigged component turned my masterpiece into a bomb. I didn’t die—not then. I spent years in a persistent vegetative state, a “locked-in” ghost watching the world through a haze. I watched Beau’s fans celebrate my “divine retribution.” I watched my career, my reputation, and my fiancée all slide into Beau’s pocket as if they had always belonged to him. Then, my fiancée pulled the plug. But this time? This time, I wasn’t going to play his game. Twenty-four hours before the qualifiers, I stood in my garage, watched my life’s work go up in flames, and announced my withdrawal from the season. The internet exploded. My fan club dissolved in hours. The casual observers turned into a lynch mob. And Beau, my “sole rival,” posted a status dripping with fake sympathy: “Without him, the summit feels a little cold. Whatever happened, I hope Jamie finds his way back to the track. I was looking forward to proving who the better man really is.” I stared at my phone and felt a cold, sharp laugh bubble up in my chest. 1 “Test run number fifty. We’re still clocking the fastest lap in the country, Jamie!” Coop slapped me on the back, the force of it nearly sending me stumbling forward. My legs moved. My spine didn’t scream in phantom pain. I wasn’t a paralyzed shell in a bed. I was alive. “You earned this, man,” Coop cheered, oblivious to the fact that I was vibrating with the shock of a second chance. He gestured toward the paddock. “Get some rest. Tomorrow, we show the world.” “Wait!” I barked, my voice raspy. “Don’t submit the telemetry data yet. I need to check the car one last time.” I sprinted toward the garage, my heart hammering against my ribs. As I ran, I pulled up Beau Montgomery’s social media feed. He had just posted his preliminary specs. In my first life, our cars had been identical, but I hadn’t noticed until it was too late. I assumed we had just followed the same logic of physics. But as I reached my car, my screen refreshed. “Jamie! What the hell?” Coop ran in after me, his face pale as he stared at his own tablet. “Beau just updated his public specs. They’re… they’re a mirror image of ours. Every decimal point. Every gear ratio.” I felt a sickening sense of déjà vu. “The submission window closes at midnight,” I said, my voice deathly calm. “We have time.” In my previous life, Beau had “accidentally” leaked both sets of data simultaneously, framing me as the one who had hacked his servers. The harassment had been instantaneous. When I posted my build videos, his fans swarmed: “Deepfakes are getting scary. Nice try, Jamie.” “Everyone knows Beau is a visionary. Why don’t you just steal his DNA while you’re at it?” “Beau is betting his entire legacy on this race, and Jamie is trying to bury him with his father’s money. Disgusting.” My team had been harassed out of their homes. My parents were doxxed. And I, stubborn and proud, thought I could prove them wrong on the track. I thought the car would speak for itself. It did. It spoke in fire. Even the forensic investigators couldn’t find a reason for the explosion. The narrative was perfect: I had committed a sin against the sport, and the universe had punished me for it. I deserved to die. I laid in that hospital bed for years while my parents spiraled into a depression that ended with them jumping from the fourteenth floor of their apartment building. I couldn’t even attend their funeral. And then there was Ivy. Ivy St. Claire, my fiancée of eight years. She had walked into my room, hand-in-hand with Beau, pretending to be a grieving fan as she reached for the oxygen line. “Jamie would want this,” she had whispered to the nurses. “He can’t live with the guilt of what he did.” I died with my eyes wide open, unable to blink, unable to scream. But the universe made a mistake. It let me back in. And this time, the guilty would be the ones to burn. 2 “This race only happens once a decade, Jamie! You’ve spent your whole life waiting for this. You can’t just quit because Beau is a lying prick!” Coop tried to grab my phone, but I shoved him back and locked myself in the basement workshop with the car. I gritted my teeth, inspecting every inch of the chassis. Even if there was a mole in my team, even if someone leaked the blueprints, a car is more than a drawing. If a single bolt is tightened a fraction too much, the data changes. How could Beau have identical telemetry? And more importantly, if the cars were the same, why did mine explode while his took the checkered flag? I closed my eyes, forcing myself to remember the day of the crash. Beau was a master of the “pouty influencer” look, always surrounded by a phalanx of fans and cameras. He never got near my car. But his “plus one” that day… It was Ivy. My heart felt like it was being crushed by a cold, iron fist. Eight years. I thought we were building a life; she was just scouting the target. I didn’t have time for the heartache. I stood up, grabbing a wrench. I began to strip the car. I had spent three years on these parts. I loved them like they were my own flesh and blood. But as I looked at the sleek carbon fiber, all I saw was the image of my parents’ bodies on the pavement. My hands moved faster. Once the “perfect” version was dismantled, I dragged a crate out from the back of the warehouse—the original prototype. It was raw. It was brutal. It was the design I’d dreamt up before I started overthinking, before I tried to make it “marketable.” It was a beast of a machine, devoid of the delicate refinements Beau had stolen. In two hours, I had it rebuilt. It wasn’t as polished, but its output was terrifying. It was a predator, crouched and ready to kill. I sent the new data to Coop. Beau couldn’t have this. Nobody had seen this version except me in the middle of a fever dream three years ago. I finally let myself breathe. Then Coop walked back in. He didn’t look happy. He looked like he’d seen a ghost. “Jamie… Beau just posted his ‘early concept’ thoughts on his vlog. The data… it’s a match. Again.” “That’s impossible!” I snatched the phone. On the screen, Beau was looking wistfully at a sunset. “Honestly,” he said to the camera, “I almost went with my first draft. It was perfect, in its own rugged way. But someone broke into my trailer and stole the primary drive. I had to pivot to the new design just to stay in the race.” I refreshed the official site. Beau’s specs had changed. They were identical to the prototype I had just finished twenty minutes ago. My blood ran cold. The parts I used for this version weren’t even on the market anymore. I’d salvaged them from an old junkyard in the Midwest and spent months hand-polishing them. One specific gear had been weathered by rainwater in a way that made it fit the housing with a unique, imperfect seal. It was a one-in-a-billion fluke of physics. And Beau had the exact same specs. I opened the hood and pulled that gear out. It was still warm from the test fit. Was this it? The source of the fire? I remembered the years of silence in the hospital. The sound of Ivy’s laughter as she told Beau how easy it was to fool me. I walked over to the industrial furnace we used for heat. Under the confused gaze of my mechanics, I threw the gear into the flames. I wasn’t going to play fair. I was going to survive. 3 Coop watched the metal melt, tears pricking his eyes. I had just destroyed the only two viable setups we had. “What now, Jamie?” I looked at my phone. The comment section on my page was a war zone. Beau’s fans were emboldened. “If you’re so great, why are you hiding your data? Just admit you’re a fraud and quit.” “I used to think Jamie was a legend. Turns out he’s just a copycat who realized he can’t keep up.” Then, a message popped up from Ivy. She hadn’t spoken to me in three days. “Stop playing with those greasy parts. Come out and have a drink with me tonight. You need to relax.” I hadn’t told her I was in the garage. She knew I stayed in total isolation before a race. She had never asked me to go out the night before a qualifier in eight years. Then came another text. A voice note. Her voice was trembling, sounding like she was on the verge of tears. “Jamie, please. Just give it up. If you keep going like this, you’re going to die.” I locked the phone and looked at Coop. “There’s still time,” I said. “I’m building one more.” I put the phone on Do Not Disturb. I sat at the bench and started from scratch—no blueprints, no memories of old designs. I designed a “Rich Kid’s Entry Level” car. It looked like something a trust-fund brat would buy for a weekend track day. It took me two hours. It looked mediocre on paper. But I changed one fundamental thing: I used a high-risk, high-reward cooling bypass I’d spent ten years “theorizing” while I was paralyzed in that hospital bed. It was a design that looked like a mistake to any normal engineer, but at top speeds, it turned the car into a rocket. Beau hadn’t spent a decade in a mental prison dreaming of fluid dynamics. He wouldn’t see it. But the moment I hit “upload” to send the data to the organizers, Beau’s team posted a “Fan Special.” “We know some of you want to get into racing like Beau! So, he designed this ‘Beginner’s Build’ just for the fans. Check it out!” My hands started to shake. I didn’t even want to look. I clicked the link. The cooling bypass. The “amateur” frame. The exact weight distribution. Everything. It was a perfect mirror. How? I had been alone. No cameras. No microphones. Then I saw the official race website. The leaderboard for telemetry was flickering. Suddenly, it went black. “UNDER MAINTENANCE,” the screen read. Coop punched the wall, his knuckles bleeding. “That son of a bitch! He’s got the organizers in his pocket! They’re letting him see your uploads in real-time and then back-dating his posts!” I looked up from the scrap metal on the floor. “No,” I whispered. “It’s bigger than that. And I’m going to go talk to the organizers myself.” 4 10:24 PM. I had ninety-six minutes to fix this and register, or I was disqualified. I needed to prove Beau was stealing my life. I needed to see the man behind the curtain. But I knew the race wouldn’t wait for “justice.” I sat in the driver’s seat of the “beginner” car and turned the key. I had to test one thing. I had to know if the “fire” was already in this car, too. I slammed the pedal down. The car roared, flying out of the garage like a bullet. Something was wrong. I knew this machine. I knew every vibration. The car was pulling left—only a few millimeters, but at these speeds, that was a death sentence. It was dragging toward the driver’s side. I looked out the side mirror. Sparks were flying from the front left wheel, even though the tire pressure was perfect. “Damn it!” I didn’t hesitate. I kicked the door open and threw myself out of the cockpit, rolling across the asphalt as the car drifted. The moment my weight left the seat, a deafening explosion rocked the air. A wall of heat slammed into my back, tossing me another ten feet. I tumbled, skin tearing against the road, until I came to a halt. I gasped for air, looking back through the smoke. The car was a fireball. 5 It took me a long time to stand up. My left side was a mess of road rash and blood, the pain searing into my nerves. But then I saw it. The fire died down as quickly as it had started. And there, sitting on the pavement, was the car. Intact. Not a scratch on the paint. Only the open door proved I had ever been inside. My heart hammered. Ivy’s voice echoed in my head: “You’re going to die.” This wasn’t just corporate espionage. This was something supernatural. Something impossible. I called Coop to patch me up, then ignored his pleas to go to the hospital. I limped toward the hotel where the race officials were staying. 10:50 PM. The lights were on in the official suite. I could hear the sound of laughter and the clinking of glasses. Beau was in there. I knocked. No answer. I knocked again. Nothing. I pulled out my phone and went straight to Beau’s latest post. I commented: “Hey Beau. Your data has changed three times in four hours. Which sponsor is paying the tech team to let you cheat? Or should we just give you the trophy now?” The internet went nuclear. Even as his mods deleted the comment, screenshots were already flying. “Aww, is Jamie having a breakdown? Poor baby can’t handle the competition.” “Look at this clown trying to stay relevant. Beau doesn’t even know you’re alive, dude.” The door finally opened. The lead official, a man with a greasy smile, looked at me. “Beau’s data was submitted once, Jamie. On day one. You’re the one who hasn’t submitted a final build. Maybe you’ve just run out of ideas? It happens to the best of us. Go home, kid.” He was recording me. Beau was behind him, holding a phone, live-streaming the encounter. “Jamie,” Beau said, his voice dripping with faux concern. “You look… rough. Is the pressure getting to you? Attacking me won’t make you faster.” I looked at the official’s screen. The website was back up. There was only one entry for Beau Montgomery. And the timestamp said it was from three days ago. But the data… the data was my latest “beginner” build. My stomach dropped. I looked at the live stream. The comments were a blur of hate. “He looks like a crackhead. Is that blood?” “Jamie has lost it. Ban him for life.” I looked the official in the eye. “What is Beau giving you? To kill the site, to rewrite the timestamps? People want a fair race.” Beau stepped forward, smiling for his fans. “If it makes you feel better, Jamie, why don’t we just wait for the site to finish its ‘update’? Let the fans see the truth.” I didn’t trust him. But I didn’t have a choice. “Done!” a tech shouted from the back, turning a laptop around. Beau’s data was there. It was my latest version. The timestamp? Three days ago. 6 “Look at it!” I screamed, my voice cracking. “He changed it three times tonight!” The official looked at me with pity. “Jamie, do you even know the rules? Each driver can only submit one car. Beau has had his locked in since Monday.” The comments section turned into a firing squad. Beau’s smile was razor-sharp now. The official signaled Beau to kill the stream. Once the “cameras” were off, the official leaned in close to me. “You saw the contract, Jamie. A driver of your ‘stature’ can’t withdraw without paying a massive liquidated damages fee. You’re on that track tomorrow. Whether you have a car or not.” I didn’t say a word. I turned and walked away. I knew how this worked. The organizers didn’t care about the sport; they cared about the “Golden Boy” narrative. Beau was their cash cow. I lit a cigarette, my hands finally steady. Coop called. “I’m out,” I told him. “And I’m getting a new car.” Before Coop could respond, a shadow fell over me. A woman threw her arms around my neck, sobbing. “Jamie! No! You have to race! You can’t withdraw!” “Ivy?” I detached her arms, my eyes cold. “What are you doing here?” She looked at me, her eyes red, her face a mask of desperation. “Jamie, we’re supposed to get married. I just want you to be safe.” I looked at her, and for a split second, I saw the truth in her eyes. She remembered, too. She was a “regressor,” just like me. But she wasn’t on my side. I had given her everything. I had delayed our wedding for two years because she said she was “worried about the stress.” I had been a perfect partner. And she had killed me. I shoved her away. She scrambled back, grabbing my sleeve. “Jamie, you can’t destroy that car! You have to use it!” I lost it. I swung my hand and slapped her, the crack of it echoing in the empty hallway. She gasped, clutching her cheek, shock written all over her face. “You told me to stop,” I hissed. “Then you told me I had to race. Which is it, Ivy? What game are you and Beau playing?” I didn’t wait for an answer. I ran back to the garage and slammed the heavy iron doors shut. Ivy hammered on the metal from the outside. “Jamie! Open the door! You don’t understand!” I ignored her. I stood in the darkness of the garage and pulled out my lighter.

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When I opened my eyes again, the world was saturated in a terrifyingly familiar light. I was back. Back to the very day that had dismantled my existence—the day my husband confessed his love for his student. In my previous life, we had spent thirty years side by side. I thought our foundation was made of granite, something weathered and indestructible. But when I turned fifty, he hit me with a truth that felt like a lightning strike: he was in love with a girl half his age, a girl who sat in the front row of his lectures. I had been stubborn then. I refused to sign the divorce papers, convinced he was just going through a mid-life fever dream. I thought if I held on tight enough, the storm would pass. It didn’t. When the girl realized she couldn’t officially take my place, she moved abroad and married a tech mogul within the year. On the day of her wedding, my husband—shattered and hollow—lost control of his car. He survived, but he spent the next fifteen years as a paraplegic. I stayed. I nursed him, bathed him, and loved him through the bitterness. But on his deathbed, he gripped my hand, his voice a jagged whisper: “The biggest regret of my life was marrying you. If there’s a next life, I’ll be braver… I’ll choose her.” His death didn’t bring peace. My children, whom I had sacrificed everything for, turned their grief into a weapon against me. When I eventually suffered a stroke and became paralyzed myself, they—one a CEO, the other a high-flying academic—dumped me in the cheapest, most neglected nursing home they could find. After I died, they didn’t even give me a grave. They scattered my ashes into a literal sewer trench. I remember the look of pure, vindictive satisfaction on my son’s face: “If it wasn’t for you, Dad and Chloe would have been happy. You’re a wicked woman, Mom. You don’t deserve a happy ending.” 1 At six in the morning, I was already in the kitchen. I had sourced the ingredients, seasoned the fillings, and hand-kneaded the dough. I spent the entire day on my feet, my lower back throbbing with a dull, insistent ache. My husband, Richard, spent the day either “prepping for a seminar” in his study or fussing over the succulents on the patio. Our son, Brandon, arrived first. He handed his father a box of vintage scotch and several cartons of premium cigars. Then, he turned to me and tossed a plastic grocery bag onto the counter. Inside were a few pieces of blackened, overripe fruit. “Megan was going to throw these out,” Brandon said with a casual shrug. “She said they were too far gone for her smoothies, so I figured I’d bring them to you.” He said it with a smile, as if he were doing me a favor. I didn’t say a word. I just tucked the rotting fruit into the pantry. A few hours later, my daughter, Cassidy, arrived. The house smelled of braised sea bass and sunlight. My children sat around their father in the living room, laughing and sharing stories of their successful lives. I watched them through the kitchen doorway—a framed picture of a perfect family that I wasn’t invited to be a part of. Dinner was served. Brandon raised his glass first. “To Dad! If it wasn’t for the example you set, I wouldn’t be where I am today. You aren’t just my father; you’re my greatest mentor.” Cassidy stood up next, her eyes shining. “To Dad. You’ve given us everything. This life, this family… it’s all because of you. Cheers.” They drank. Cassidy took a bite of the fish and immediately wrinkled her nose. “Mom, this is a little salty, don’t you think?” They seemed to have completely forgotten that the entire reason for this dinner was my fiftieth birthday. “I’d like to say something, too.” Richard finished his third glass of wine and slammed it onto the table. There was a strange, frantic determination in his eyes. “Joanna, I have to be honest with you. I’ve fallen in love with someone else. She’s one of my graduate students.” The room went silent, save for the hum of the refrigerator. “We’ve been together for a while now,” he continued, his voice gaining strength. “She’s young, she’s fragile, and she needs security. I want to… I want to give her my name.” I gripped my silverware until my knuckles turned white. Before I could even process the words, Brandon let out an exhaled breath. “Dad, finally! Honestly, it takes so much courage to speak your truth like that. Whatever happens, I’m behind you a hundred percent.” Cassidy actually started clapping. “Congratulations, Dad! Welcome to your second act. Let’s toast to a love that defies age and convention!” The three of them raised their glasses again. I sat there, a ghost at my own table. “Mom, don’t be a buzzkill,” Brandon said, noticing my silence. “Yeah, Dad found his soulmate. Shouldn’t you be happy for him?” Cassidy added, her tone sharp with judgment. I looked at the food I had spent ten hours preparing—now growing cold and congealed on the plates. I let out a short, dry laugh. Then, I reached into my apron pocket and pulled out a crumpled set of papers. “Fine,” I said. “I’m letting you go.” 2 The air in the dining room turned brittle. Richard hadn’t expected me to be this easy. He looked at the papers, his excitement barely contained. “Joanna? You’re serious?” I pushed the divorce agreement toward him. My silence was my answer. Richard picked up the document and smoothed it out on the table. I could see his eyes scanning the property division. I had made it simple: the house was mine (it was a pre-marital asset from my parents), but I waived all rights to his future pension and half the savings. I just wanted him gone. I didn’t want to haggle over the price of my soul. He hesitated for a fraction of a second when he saw my signature already there, dark and final. Then, he grabbed a pen and signed his name so fast the ink nearly smeared. He was terrified I’d change my mind. Only then did Brandon bother to pour me a glass of wine—the first of the day. “See, Mom? This is the right move. Everyone has a right to chase their happiness.” Cassidy was already whispering to her father, asking when they could meet the new woman. “Dad, I heard Jade loves seafood. Let’s do a big dinner at that place on the pier. Mom, you should probably help me pick out the menu…” I cut her off, my voice flat. “It’s late. You all need to leave.” I emphasized the word all. Brandon’s fork stopped halfway to his mouth. Cassidy’s smile froze. 3 After they left, I opened the bottle of expensive wine Richard had been saving. I poured a glass, sat at the messy table, and ate the best parts of the meal myself. I didn’t clear the dishes. I didn’t wipe the counters. I went to the master bedroom and lay down. For the first time in three decades, there was no snoring, no one getting up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, no heavy presence taking up space. I slept like a woman who had finally been granted a pardon. The next morning, I woke up naturally at 8:00 AM. I put on my workout gear and walked through the local park, feeling the crisp morning air fill my lungs. When I got back, I took my time. I toasted a slice of sourdough, fried two perfect eggs, and brewed a cup of black coffee. In my last life, my mornings started at 5:00 AM. I’d spend hours feeding a paralyzed Richard, changing his adult diapers, wiping his body down, massaging his atrophied limbs. Then I’d rush out to pick up my grandson from school, then head to Cassidy’s apartment to clean her kitchen and prep her meals because she was “too busy” with her career. I lived in a loop of service that never ended. Now, the silence was a luxury. I opened the closet and began packing Richard’s things into boxes. When I was done, the wardrobe was nearly empty, save for a few of my own pieces—mostly old, faded, and out of style. I remembered Richard’s voice from years ago: “Joanna, I’m a professor. We have to set an example of modesty. We should live simply.” I had worn the same winter coat for fifteen years and the same pair of jeans for eight. Meanwhile, I later found out he had given Jade a “startup gift” of over a hundred thousand dollars when they got engaged. I hauled the boxes to the shipping center and then drove straight to the high-end mall downtown. I was done depriving myself. 4 I didn’t expect to run into Jade there. Or Brandon and Cassidy. When they saw me, their smiles faltered, replaced by a flicker of awkwardness. It was Jade who spoke first, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. “Oh, look, it’s Richard’s ex. Are you here alone?” She turned to the kids, stroking Brandon’s arm. “I told these two they didn’t need to take me shopping, but they simply wouldn’t take no for an answer. Brandon has been so generous today.” I looked at the bags Brandon was carrying. All designer labels. I thought of the bag of rotting fruit he’d brought me yesterday, and a cold, sharp irony settled in my chest. Jade walked over to a rack and pulled out a silk slip dress I had been eyeing. “This color is stunning. How much? I’ll take it!” “I was looking at that first,” I said, my voice low but steady. “Mom, honestly,” Brandon sighed. “That dress is wasted on you. Let Jade have it. She actually has the figure for it.” “Exactly,” Cassidy added, her eyes darting over my old clothes. “At your age, wearing something like that is just… desperate. Have some dignity.” Jade pretended to play the peacemaker. “Now, now, everyone wants to feel beautiful. But really, Joanna, I just don’t think this is your style. Clerk? Wrap this up.” “Wait,” I said. I had given up my husband. I had practically disowned my children in my heart. But this dress—this silly, expensive piece of fabric—felt like a stand. It was about the life I was reclaiming. But as I reached for my credit card, Cassidy stepped forward and shoved me. Hard. I wasn’t prepared for it. I stumbled back, crashing into a row of heavy metal clothing racks. I’d had back surgery years ago, and a white-hot spike of pain shot through my spine. While I was on the floor, Brandon leaned over and paid for Jade’s dress. He turned back to me, a brief flash of guilt in his eyes that was quickly swallowed by annoyance. “Don’t blame us, Mom. You brought this on yourself by trying to compete with someone like her.” They walked away, a tight-knit trio, leaving me on the floor. A young shop assistant rushed over to help me up, asking if I needed an ambulance. I saw the pity in her eyes and felt a wave of nausea. “I’m fine,” I whispered, though my back felt like it was on fire. 5 Outside the mall, I saw them waiting for their car at the valet. Brandon and Cassidy stood like bodyguards around Jade. I ignored them, limping toward the curb to hail a cab. “Joanna! Brandon called a car service, we can give you a lift,” Jade called out, smiling like a cat. “No thanks.” “Don’t be like that…” Jade stepped closer, leaning in so only I could hear. Her voice was a venomous whisper. “Did you know the kids already started calling me ‘Mom’ behind your back? You really are a failure, aren’t you? You couldn’t keep your husband, and your own children can’t stand you. If I were you, I’d be too ashamed to stay alive.” I looked at her young, porcelain face and felt a primal urge to strike. All those years I had welcomed her into our home, fed her, even helped her with her student loans because I felt sorry for her “struggling” background. This was the thanks I got. I raised my hand, but before I could swing, Brandon grabbed my wrist. His grip was so tight I felt the bones groan. “You crazy old woman! I knew you were looking for trouble!” “Brandon,” I gasped, looking him in the eye. “Do you know what she just said to me? She said you’ve been calling her ‘Mom.’ She called me a failure.” Brandon froze for a second, a complicated shadow crossing his face. Then, his expression hardened into ice. “Was she wrong?” The words hit me harder than the shove in the store. “Jade is a brilliant PhD, she’s beautiful, she’s successful,” he continued. “You? You’re just a maid who knows how to cook and do laundry. You don’t even belong in the same room as her.” Even though I thought I was done with them, hearing my son say those words out loud felt like a physical blow to the heart. Just then, the screech of tires echoed through the air. A massive delivery truck had lost its brakes and was careening toward the valet stand. In that split second, my maternal instinct took over. I lunged forward, trying to push Brandon out of the way. But Brandon and Cassidy didn’t see me as a savior. They saw me as an obstacle. Thinking I was attacking Jade again, they both shoved me away with everything they had—straight into the path of the oncoming traffic. The last thing I heard before the world went black was their horrified scream: “MOM!” … As my consciousness drifted, fragments of my life flickered like a broken film strip. I remembered shortly after Brandon was born, Richard moved his things into the study, claiming he needed to “prepare lectures.” Back then, he was just a struggling instructor. To help him get his tenure, I quit my own burgeoning career to raise the kids alone. I remembered when Brandon was ten and got into a fight that nearly blinded another boy. I knelt on the cold pavement in front of the other parents, begging for their forgiveness. I let them scream at me, let them vent their rage, just so they wouldn’t press charges. I walked away with three broken ribs that day, but Brandon’s future was saved. I remembered Cassidy’s kidney failure when she was twelve. Richard’s first reaction was to walk away, saying it wasn’t “practical” to bankrupt the family for a girl. I didn’t hesitate. I gave her my own kidney. They used to love me. They used to need me. But somewhere along the way, their loyalty shifted toward their “successful” father. I remembered overhearing a conversation between them and Richard a few months ago. “Dad, I don’t know how you’ve put up with that miserable, stay-at-home face for so many years,” Brandon had said. “If you want a divorce, Dad, we’re with you,” Cassidy added. “Though, honestly, where else are we going to find a free maid who works this hard? Nannies are expensive these days…” A coldness settled in my soul that had nothing to do with the accident. I had been their sacrifice. And they had viewed it as their birthright. 6 I woke up in a hospital bed. A young nurse was changing my IV drip, muttering under her breath. “Unbelievable. Some people shouldn’t be allowed to have kids.” She looked at me, realizing I was awake. “Your ‘family’ is out in the hall. They tried to get the doctors to leave your bedside to go check on that younger woman first. She has a scratch on her arm, and they’re acting like she’s in critical condition. Meanwhile, you were actually under the wheels.” I gave her a weak, hollow smile. “It’s okay. You’re right.” She paused, stunned by my lack of defense for them. Even a stranger could see the truth I had been ignoring for thirty years. … A week later, I discharged myself. As I stood at the hospital entrance waiting for a car, my phone buzzed. It was Brandon. “Mom, Megan says you haven’t picked up our daughter from daycare in a week,” he barked, his voice thick with unearned anger. “Megan has to work. The house is a mess. You’re out here ‘recovering’ and being lazy while we’re drowning. You have two hours to get to the house, or there will be consequences.” He hung up. Then a text from Cassidy popped up: Mom, how much longer are you going to play the victim? My apartment looks like a pigsty. Come over and clean it. And I want that ginger chicken soup you make. I stood in the cold wind, looking at the screen. I didn’t cry. Instead, I dialed a number I hadn’t called in decades. The line picked up on the second ring. A man’s voice, deep and slightly weathered, answered with a hint of tremor. “Joanna? I’ve been waiting for this call for so long.” My throat tightened. “Sebastian… I’ve made up my mind. Can you come get me?” “Give me the address. I’m on my way.” Ten minutes later, a black armored SUV pulled up to the curb. A driver in a crisp uniform stepped out and opened the door for me. Inside sat a man who looked both familiar and like a stranger. I looked at him and finally let out a sob. “Sebastian…” “It’s okay,” he said, patting my hand. His voice was low and dangerous. “Now that you’ve made the choice, you can’t go soft on them again. Do you understand?” I nodded, wiping my eyes. “I won’t. Never again.”

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