Category: English

1 I was mindlessly scrolling online when a post caught my eye. 【I accidentally broke my boss’s fiancée’s bracelet. How do I get away with it?】 In the comments, the original poster was relentlessly showing off how special her boss treated her. 【The bracelet broke while he and I were… you know, getting intimate. I wanted to try something new.】 【He told me the beads on this thing are supposed to be a lucky charm, so he wanted me to carry it with me always.】 【He said I don’t have to pay for it, but I feel bad. Does anyone know where I can buy another one?】 Attached was a photo of a faded Kynam agarwood bracelet. It looked familiar. Trying to be helpful, I commented: 【Bracelets like that go for at least a million on the market. You should probably just apologize.】 A second later, she replied with disdain: 【A million? Honey, even if it were ten million, he would never let me apologize for anything.】 【He doesn’t even like his fiancée. I’m his true love.】 I clicked on her profile, only to find that the “boss” she was talking about was my fiancé. Her reply just struck me as bizarre. Zero people cared who her boss was in love with. My focus was on the bracelet. The Kynam bracelet my grandfather gave me was a near-perfect match to the one in the photo, in both size and quality. It was just clear the poster hadn’t taken care of it; the rich color had faded significantly. In the time it took for my silence to register, a mountain of comments had already piled up beneath hers. 【OP, you must not be from Brookhaven. Her company is the biggest player in the city.】 【Fumbling intern and the top-of-the-food-chain CEO? I ship it.】 【Who should apologize to whom is still up in the air. President Blackwood is known for spoiling his favorites.】 A few of those words sent a shiver down my spine. Because I happened to know a “President Blackwood” in Brookhaven. My fiancé, Vincent Blackwood. I navigated to the poster’s homepage. The background image was, unmistakably, my family’s corporate headquarters. My father, impressed by Vincent’s ambition, had sent him to manage the Brookhaven branch, putting him under my nominal command in the hopes that we’d grow closer. I just had no idea that in a few short months, my own company had apparently changed hands. If Vincent was her secret lover, then it was painfully obvious whose bracelet it was. Seeing my property desecrated like this, and the culprit showing not a shred of remorse, was infuriating. I suppressed the fire rising in my chest and clicked back into the thread. 【Since when does Vincent Blackwood call all the shots? That’s news to me.】 【Forget you apologizing—Vincent himself is going to have to make a personal apology for this.】 【Is this the new trend? Homewreckers being this proud and loud about it?】 My comments clearly struck a nerve. She was instantly incensed, firing back with a volley of photos and a tone dripping with arrogance. 【It’s just a million. My boss’s car is worth over ten million.】 【See this diamond? He just won it at an auction a few days ago. He said he’s having it made into our wedding ring.】 【How can some no-name nobody even compare to my boss?】 I clicked open the images. They were all my things, items I’d left behind in Brookhaven. I’d been in a rush to go abroad a few months ago, and bringing everything was too much of a hassle. Before I left, I’d asked Vincent to keep an eye on them for me. I never imagined he’d use them all to woo someone else. As her posts grew more and more heated, a cold smile touched my lips. I pulled out my phone and dialed Vincent’s number. It rang for nearly a minute before he picked up. His voice was clipped. “I’m in a meeting. Whatever it is, we can talk later.” Before I could say a word, the dial tone buzzed in my ear. But in the next second, I refreshed the thread and saw a new reply from her. It was a screenshot of a voice call, the timer already at thirty minutes. 【The boss has been on the phone calming me down this whole time. He even hung up on his fiancée for me~】 Seeing her provocation, I didn’t reply again. Not because I was hurt, but because I had already arrived at the foot of the office building. He still hadn’t read the message I sent him yesterday. Compared to the attentive, cautious man he used to be, Vincent had certainly changed these past few months. I’d chalked it up to the pressures of his promotion, never guessing he was just busy doting on his little mistress. With another cold smile, I called him again. The moment he answered, I spoke first. “I’m at the front door. I don’t care what you’re doing, but I’m giving you two choices.” “You can either come down now and personally escort me in.” “Or, I, as the Chairwoman, can have the front desk inform you that you’ve been summoned.” 2 I didn’t get Vincent. I got Corinne. She sashayed out of the president’s private elevator, her eyes raking over me from head to toe with undisguised contempt. “Ms. Heffner, is it? President Blackwood is in a meeting. You can just come with me.” As she spoke, Corinne’s gaze landed on my dress. The receptionist nearby, quick on the uptake, chimed in, “Corinne, is that a new dress? I bet the President just bought it for you. It’s different from the one you wore this morning.” A delighted grin spread across Corinne’s face. “I only mentioned it offhandedly yesterday. I can’t believe he actually bought it for me today.” The two of them went on, a perfect duet of sycophantic praise, quickly forgetting I was even there. I finally looked up from my phone, my gaze slowly drifting over to Corinne. The tell-tale marks on her neck were vivid, and she made no effort to conceal them. Connecting that to the “getting intimate” she’d mentioned in her post, I knew exactly what had been going on. “I believe I asked for Vincent to come down personally. Is he—” Before I could finish, Corinne cut me off. “President Blackwood is a very busy man. He doesn’t have time for unimportant people.” Her tone was dismissive. “Whatever you have to say, you can just tell me. I’ll pass it along.” The moment the words left her mouth, the crowd of gossiping onlookers murmured in agreement. “Yeah, even though Corinne’s just an intern, her full-time position is a sure thing. The President himself transferred her to be his personal secretary.” “President Blackwood said that what Corinne wants, he wants. We’re all supposed to listen to her.” “If just anyone could demand to see the President, he’d work himself to death.” One by one, they painted me as the one who was being unreasonable. I just arched an eyebrow, my expression unreadable. President Blackwood? Since when was Vincent the president of anything? Corinne, however, mistook my silence for fear. Her eyes darted around before she whipped out her phone. “I’ve been looking after that bracelet of yours. I’ve been spritzing it with my best perfume every day to keep it nice. You can just reimburse me for the cost.” “I’m sorry?” I frowned, not quite catching what she said. She took my expression as a refusal and her voice sharpened into a threat. “That’s the perfume President Blackwood bought me. It’s a four-figure bottle. I barely use it on myself.” When her words finally registered, I was stunned. Not because the perfume was expensive, but because she’d been spraying it on the bracelet. Agarwood is porous; it absorbs scents. Spraying it with perfume is like using a fine wine to clean your floors. It ruins it. Especially since the fragrance Vincent had chosen was one I personally despised; the bottle was still sitting in my room, collecting dust. As Corinne spoke, she leaned closer, and the cloying scent of cheap fragrance immediately assaulted my senses, making me feel sick. I took an imperceptible step back, but she thought I was trying to flee. “Stop right there!” she barked. “You’re not trying to skip out on the bill, are you?” I straightened up, composing myself. Just as I raised my hand, a cold voice cut through the lobby from behind me. “Aurora, even if you are my fiancée, you can’t just bully my secretary in public.” Vincent, having rushed down after my call, stood there, pulling Corinne protectively behind him. He looked at me, his brow furrowed in a tight, disapproving knot. Never mind that our “engagement” was just a casual suggestion from my father that was never even finalized. And never mind that I wouldn’t be caught dead with a piece of trash like Vincent. “Your secretary?” I let out a short, sharp laugh, my eyes sliding to him. “Since when did I approve Corinne’s promotion?” “You damage my property, and now you want me to pay for it?” “I had no idea my company was hiring morons of this caliber.” 3 My words made Vincent’s face flash through several shades of anger and embarrassment. He clearly didn’t want to make a bigger scene, so he reined in his aggressive tone. “I’ll pay for whatever she broke. Corinne is a very diligent worker, she—” Before Vincent could finish his defense, Corinne had had enough. She snatched the bracelet from her purse and hurled it onto the marble floor. “Here, take it back! I wouldn’t want this cheap piece of junk anyway.” Her action made my pupils constrict. My expression turned to ice. “Pick it up.” Corinne froze, about to retort, but a glance at Vincent’s stony silence made her reconsider. Her eyes reddened as she reluctantly bent down. The moment I saw her hands touch the bracelet, I remembered her post—about how it was broken while they were “getting intimate.” A wave of nausea washed over me. “That Kynam agarwood bracelet cost me three million. You can figure out how you’re going to compensate me.” I had barely finished speaking when Corinne’s little sycophant friend, who was helping her up, let out a snort of derision. “Three million? I thought it was something expensive. Corinne is wearing single pieces that are worth dozens of your cheap bracelet.” Even Corinne herself seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. She pulled out her phone again, her voice full of arrogance. Before she could speak, I tilted my head and held out a hand. “My apologies. I forgot we operate on different scales.” “I meant three million dollars. I wonder how Ms. Corinne intends to pay.” At the mention of the price, I saw the hand holding her phone tremble slightly. She stared at the beads in her palm in disbelief, her voice a shriek. “How could it possibly be worth three million? It’s just a string of wooden beads!” Corinne examined the bracelet over and over, then forced herself to look calm. I watched as she exited the payment app and opened a shopping app instead. After a moment, she let out a breath and brandished her phone screen for everyone to see. On the screen of some bargain-bin shopping app, an identical-looking bracelet was listed for $9.99. I gave Corinne a look that was hard to put into words. This person must have dropped on her head as a child. Who didn’t know these platforms were flooded with fakes? Noticing her search history, I offered a helpful tip. “It’s Kynam agarwood. Not ‘wooden bead bracelet.’” Vincent’s bravado had vanished the moment I said “three million.” Everything he had bought for Corinne had been charged to my supplementary card. Though we had the title of an engaged couple, I had always kept our finances strictly separate. Every expense was tallied, and every personal purchase was deducted from his salary. On the surface, Vincent was the “top-of-the-food-chain CEO.” In reality, he was just an employee. I was the one making the real decisions; he was just the messenger. Seeing Vincent’s silence, Corinne started to panic. She tried to maintain her composure and shut off her phone. “I don’t care if it’s three hundred or three million, President Blackwood will pay for me,” she declared. “He’s a rising star in this industry. You think he’s short on a little cash like that?” Corinne’s arrogance was clearly a well-practiced routine. She pointed a finger at the company name emblazoned across the lobby wall. “The ground you’re standing on belongs to President Blackwood’s company. And this is just Brookhaven.” “He already told me he has no feelings for you. He’s going to end the engagement soon and be with me.”

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Sofia was my college girlfriend—or rather, the girl I paid to date me. Though I never treated her as a plaything, that’s how others saw us. No one believed a rich kid would truly love someone from her world. Then I dumped her without explanation. Years later, we met again—I was a masseur at a luxury spa, and she, now a millionaire, booked me for a private session. After graduation, my family went bankrupt. My father fled with his mistress. That same year, I killed a man in “excessive self-defense” and served two years in prison. Inside, an old inmate taught me therapeutic massage. Now, at the spa, former socialites who once chased me book sessions just to humiliate me. I endure it—I need the money. Today, as I was about to leave, the manager called: “Jason, VIP Suite 888. A major client requested you. Nail this, and you might not need to work all year.” “On my way.” I grabbed the kit I’d just packed up, a knot of apprehension tightening in my gut. The wealthier the client, the higher the chance they were a creep. Just this morning, I’d had a session with a woman who had to be over four hundred pounds. She’d periodically slap me across the face as I worked on her. A thousand dollars a slap. So, I endured it. I knocked on the door to 888. “Come in.” The voice was cool and young. I opened the door and saw a woman sitting on the living room sofa, dressed in a sleek black power suit. Her long hair cascaded loosely over her shoulders, a touch of languor that created a striking contrast with the sharp, professional lines of her attire. Her face was breathtaking. More beautiful than I remembered from college. She’d been gorgeous then, but with a lingering innocence. Now, she possessed the captivating allure of a woman in full bloom. It was her. Sofia. The girl I had “kept” in college. Back then, her world had fallen apart. Her father, a construction worker, had been seriously injured on a job site, but the contractor skipped town without paying a cent. Faced with suffocating medical bills, she’d considered dropping out of school. Her mother, however, insisted she stay, saying it would be a waste for the family’s brightest to quit. So, her underachieving younger brother dropped out instead and got a job at a bar. One night, some thug’s girlfriend looked at him a little too long, and the thug and his friends broke her brother’s legs. The shock sent her mother into a spiral, and she was hospitalized with a severe illness. Suddenly, the weight of her entire family landed on Sofia’s shoulders. It was a burden so heavy that a young college student saw only one way out: selling her body. The campus rumor mill painted me as a playboy with deep pockets. I had, in fact, tried to flirt with her once, but she’d turned me down. I left her alone after that; I was more talk than action, a smart-ass who liked to flirt but never pushed it. But then, she found me. In front of a crowd of people, she announced she would be my girlfriend, on one condition: I had to lend her five hundred thousand dollars. I agreed to the loan but told her she didn’t have to be my girlfriend. I wasn’t the kind of guy who took advantage of someone’s desperation. But the day I transferred the money, she showed up at my door. I was living in a sprawling penthouse I’d bought off-campus. It was raining, and the downpour had soaked her white blouse, making it cling to her. I wanted to look, but I didn’t have the nerve. I let her in, found her some dry clothes, and we sat in silence. She was the one who finally broke it. “Jason, until I pay back that five hundred thousand, I’m yours. When the debt is clear, you can give me my freedom back.” I wanted to tell her it was unnecessary, that the money meant less to me than what I’d spend tipping some streamer in a week. But I knew that would crush her pride. So instead, I said, “Then you can be my housekeeper.” From that day on, Sofia lived with me. She cooked my meals, managed my life, and even cleaned me up when I came home blind drunk. The girls who chased me were relentless, constantly harassing her, calling her a whore trying to claw her way into high society. She never told me about it, never defended herself. She just silently endured it. When I found out, I confronted them, telling them to back off. But that only made things worse for her. She’d get “accidentally” hit in the face with a basketball or “accidentally” shoved down a flight of stairs. I realized the more I protected her, the more she suffered. So I changed my strategy. I started treating her horribly, even announcing to a crowd that she was just a dog I kept, one I wouldn’t even let into my bed. After that, the physical “accidents” stopped, though she was still a target for vicious gossip. Then came the end. The company went bankrupt. My father fled with his mistress. I killed a man and went to prison. Before I was taken away, I did two things: I broke up with Sofia and signed the deed to the penthouse over to her as a “severance package.” And now, here we were, our roles completely reversed. I was no longer the profligate heir but a spa masseur, a profession one step away from being a gigolo. And Sofia was the CEO of a gaming company, a woman I had to look up to, both literally and figuratively. She saw me frozen in the doorway, a cold smile playing on her lips. “I hear that these days, you’ll do anything for the right price.” “Something like that,” I said, forcing down the tidal wave of emotions inside me. The taunts from my old friends had never truly hurt. But to be seen like this, like an ant beneath her shoe… that pain was real. It was sharp. Sofia nodded, pulling open the vintage Louis Vuitton bag at her side and casually tossing several thick stacks of cash onto the sofa. That bag… If I remembered correctly, it was a birthday present I had given her. She’d never once used it, saying it was too precious. Why did she still have it? “I hear your technique is quite good,” Sofia said suddenly. “Come and massage my feet.” I snapped back to the present and nodded. I prepared a basin of water, testing the temperature before carrying it over to her. Sofia lifted one leg, her stiletto-clad foot hovering in front of me. I pulled over the small stool used for foot treatments, but before I could sit, she kicked me squarely in the shoulder. “I believe you once told people that when I washed your feet, I did it on my knees. I’m not mistaken, am I?” She looked down at me, her gaze imperious. She wanted me to kneel before her. I had said those words, but only to protect her. The girls who pursued me came from families as wealthy as mine, some even wealthier. I had no real power over them. Belittling her was the only way I could think of to lessen her suffering. My heart throbbed. I wanted to explain, to tell her everything, but I held back. I was afraid she wouldn’t believe me, or worse, that she wouldn’t care. So, I dropped to one knee, reaching out to remove her high heel. Sofia kicked me again. “One knee?” she sneered. “Am I not paying enough?” She grabbed the cash and started flinging the stacks at my face. I stood there and took it. When she finally stopped, I looked her deep in the eyes. “If it makes you happy, I’ll kneel.” I lowered myself to both knees. A satisfied smile finally graced her lips, and she extended her foot again. I slipped off her shoe, carefully cradling her small, delicate foot in my hands. I used to steal glances at her feet, so small and pale, like they were carved from white jade. But I’d always been a coward, too afraid to even look for too long. “Test the water.” I scooped some water with my hand and gently dabbed it onto her perfect foot. She flinched, her elegant brow furrowing. “Is this how you provide a service?” I knew she was just trying to make things difficult. The temperature was perfect. But I didn’t argue. I just reached for the kettle to adjust it. Suddenly, she plunged both feet into the bamboo basin, splashing water all over my face and shirt. She stared at me, a cruel smirk on her face. “Jason, name your price. How much would it take for you to drink this water?” My heart seized again. I never imagined she could hate me this much. But then again, it made perfect sense. The old Sofia had been sensitive and fiercely proud. And I had publicly degraded her. If our roles were reversed, I would hate me too. God, I wanted to explain. I wanted to tell her it was all to protect her. But I couldn’t. I was afraid of her scorn. I was even more afraid that she might come back to me. If she dismissed my explanation, it would shatter what was left of my heart. And if she came back to me… did I even deserve her? I looked at her, my voice steady. “No charge. If it makes you happy.” I bent down, leaning over the foot basin like a dog lapping at a bowl. From an angle where I couldn’t see, her eyes reddened for a fleeting moment. Then she lifted her foot and kicked my shoulder, knocking me away. She burst into laughter. “Jason, have you completely lost your pride? ‘If it makes you happy?’ Or did you figure saying that would make me give you more money?” I stumbled back, landing hard on the floor. I couldn’t meet her eyes. She had no idea. No one else could trample on my dignity because, frankly, I didn’t care what they thought. But she was different. All it took was one scornful laugh from her, and my pride was already in a million pieces. I shook my head, saying nothing. Sofia beckoned to me with one finger. “Come here. On your knees.” I crawled back to her, kneeling so close. I had been this close to her once before, when she’d fallen asleep at her desk while coding late at night. I had wanted to steal a kiss, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Back then, I had leaned down to cover her with a blanket. Now, at the same distance, I had to look up at her, and she looked down at me as if I truly were a dog. Sofia tilted my chin up. “Jason, two years and you’ve become more… interesting. But why aren’t you smiling? You’re a gigolo. Is this how you treat your clients?” I couldn’t help but correct her. “Not a gigolo. A masseur.” Sofia laughed. “Is there a difference?” I didn’t argue further. I just forced a smile. She nodded, satisfied. “Begin.” How many times had I dreamed of holding these feet in my hands? But I never dared, afraid it would upset her. I figured no woman would want a man’s touch to be transactional. So I never crossed that line. I sympathized with her plight, admired her resilience, and respected her ambition. All of that coalesced into love. Or maybe I would have loved her anyway, without any of it. Why I loved her, what it was about her… I didn’t really know. I just did. In prison, the only thing that kept me going for two years was the thought of seeing her again, just once. The hell I endured in there would have been enough to kill me ten thousand times over otherwise. Thanks to the old-timer in my cell, my skills were excellent. For the rest of the foot massage, Sofia didn’t give me any more trouble. When the session was over, I dried her feet and carried the basin away. After tidying up, I managed another strained smile. “Ma’am, the foot treatment is complete. If there’s nothing else, I’ll be on my way.” I turned to leave without waiting for her reply. Yes, I was running. I was even ready to quit my job. Because this, being stripped of all my dignity in front of her, was the one thing I couldn’t bear. “Stop.” “Did I say you could leave?” Her voice came from behind me, sharp and cold. I knew it. She wasn’t going to let me off that easily. I hesitated for a moment, then turned back to face her and let out a long sigh. Under her amused gaze, I dropped to my knees again, a self-deprecating smile on my face. “I admit it. I said a lot of things that hurt you, and I apologize. If you can’t accept my apology, then please, punish me all at once. Get it over with, and then just… let me go. Can you do that?” A complex expression flickered across her face. She stood up and walked toward me, barefoot. Her fingers found the gap between the buttons of my shirt and she gave a slight tug. “Get up.” I rose, following the gentle pressure, but I couldn’t meet her eyes. “Jason, am I stupid?” she asked. I was taken aback. I shook my head. If she were stupid, how could she have built a multi-million-dollar empire? I had no idea why she was asking me that. She didn’t seem to expect an answer. Instead, she walked toward the plush king-sized bed. “Just my feet isn’t enough. Give me a full-body spa treatment.” She sat on the edge of the bed and then gracefully lay on her side, her body forming a breathtaking curve. “Jason, I asked the manager about you,” she said, her tone laced with mockery. “He said your patron this morning, the four-hundred-pound one, was praising your ‘Golden Fingers.’” “So let me see for myself. Show me just how much pleasure a gigolo like you can give a woman.” Then, right in front of me, she began to remove her clothes, piece by piece.

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On the day I was supposed to get married, my best friend’s mother told everyone I’d been a sugar baby in college. That I’d had an abortion. When I found out, my first instinct was to call the cops. But everyone, everyone, told me to focus on the wedding. To not stoop to the level of a gossiping old hag. Then I learned that someone at her table was live-streaming the reception. The rumor spread like wildfire. My mother-in-law believed it. She forced my husband to divorce me. An anonymous complaint was filed at my job, and I was fired. My parents, unable to show their faces in our small town, disowned me. The blows came one after another, and I fell into a deep depression. I jumped to my death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Back on my wedding day. … “Hold on,” I said, stopping the makeup artist’s brush mid-air. I lowered my head and grabbed my phone. It didn’t take long to find the live stream. I clicked the link, and the voices of several middle-aged women filled the room. “So what does the groom’s family do? This is quite the fancy setup.” “I hear they’re in the hotel business. Own a bunch of properties. You have to hand it to Jane, she really knows how to play her cards. She’s pretty, sure, but her real talent is wrapping men around her little finger.” I turned the volume up, and the sound from my phone’s speaker cut through the quiet of the bridal suite, catching the attention of my bridesmaids. One of them leaned in. “Fiona,” she gasped, recognizing a face on the screen. “That’s your mom.” Fiona rushed over, just in time to hear her mother, Rose, continue her tirade. “Honestly, our Fiona is prettier than Jane, but she just doesn’t have those… vixen’s tricks. Jane’s so well-endowed for a reason, you know. All those men… She was a born seductress. Dating boys in elementary school, a rich man’s plaything in college. She’d do anything for money, sleep with anyone. Had a few abortions, too. Oh, what a shame.” Fiona’s face went bone-white. “Jane, don’t listen to her,” she stammered. “She’s just talking nonsense. I’ll go out there right now and make her stop.” But before Fiona could move, I shot up from my chair and stormed toward the door, my wedding dress rustling around me. Fiona grabbed my arm. “Jane, don’t! It’s your wedding day! I’ll handle it. I’ll make sure she doesn’t say another word, I promise.” My other friends chimed in, echoing her plea. The bride couldn’t just march out before the ceremony started, it would look terrible. “Yeah, Jane, just hang in there,” Fiona said, her face a mask of sincerity, as if she truly had my best interests at heart. “You know my mom, her mouth runs faster than her brain. I’ll go give her a piece of my mind. After today, I’ll make her apologize to you personally. Don’t let her ruin your big day.” In my last life, I didn’t find out from a live stream. A relative, disgusted by the gossip, had come to tell me in hushed tones. And I had listened to them. I had endured it. But the next day, before Fiona could drag her mother over for a half-hearted apology, the story was already everywhere. That one rumor cost me my husband, my parents, and my career. It pushed me until I broke. And through it all, Rose never once spoke up to say she’d lied. Reborn, there was no way I was letting it go. After all, I knew which was more important: a wedding, or my life. I ignored Fiona and strode out of the room. When I reached Rose’s table, she was still deep in the sordid details of my supposed abortion. “She was still in college, of course she couldn’t let her parents know. She borrowed money from my Fiona. My girl has such a big heart, she stole from me to help her friend. That’s how I found out. And I know the boy’s mother, too. I checked with her later. Her son really did knock Jane up.” “Aunt Rose, is that really true?” someone asked. “Mom! What the hell are you talking about?!” Fiona’s shriek and my sharp question echoed at the same time. Rose jumped, startled. She turned and saw me, her smile instantly awkward. But she recovered quickly, feigning ignorance. “Jane, honey, what are you doing out here already?” I stared at her, my face a canvas of pure shock. “Aunt Rose, is it true? Did I have an abortion in college? Did you see it with your own eyes?” What had been a quiet murmur at one table suddenly had an audience. My appearance, my raised voice—it drew every eye in the hall. Rose was flustered, suddenly at a loss for words. Fiona looked like she wanted the ground to swallow her whole. She tugged on her mother’s sleeve. “Mom. Apologize.” Rose stood up. “Jane, I’m sorry. You know me, I just talk without thinking.” My eyes widened in mock disbelief. “So you’re saying it’s true?” Before Rose could answer, my parents and my fiancé, Ethan, had rushed over. “Jane, what’s wrong?” my mother asked, taking my arm. “Whatever it is, we can talk about it calmly.” “Mom, Aunt Rose is telling everyone that I was promiscuous in college, that I got pregnant and had an abortion,” I said, my voice trembling with feigned horror. “But I don’t remember any of it! That man… he must have drugged me! It’s the only explanation!” My mother’s face instantly darkened. She glared at Rose. “Rose, what is the meaning of this? Spreading vile rumors at my daughter’s wedding?” Rose forced a laugh. “It was a mistake. I misspoke. I already apologized to Jane.” My mother turned back to me. “Jane, you know your Aunt Rose loves to gossip. She’s already said she’s sorry, just let it go.” My father added from behind me, “That’s right. Look at yourself. All our friends and family are here. No one’s going to believe such a ridiculous lie.” It wasn’t just my parents. Everyone started trying to smooth things over. Seeing the moment about to be swept under the rug, I let tears well in my eyes. “No, no, Aunt Rose told the story with such detail! How could it be fake? If I don’t remember it, it must have happened against my will! That man committed a crime! Aunt Rose, you have to tell me who he is! I’m calling the police!” The word “police” wiped the smile right off Rose’s face. “There’s no one!” she said quickly. “Fine, I made it all up, okay? Jane, it’s your wedding day. It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have said those things. Let’s just… let this be my apology.” She raised her teacup. “I’ll drink to your happiness, and we’ll say no more about it. Just pretend I was lying. Okay?” She drained the cup in one gulp. Then she looked at me. “There. Are we good?” I just stared at her, my expression making it clear that we were not. Rose felt my displeasure. She clearly thought she, the elder, had already given me, the younger, enough face, and was annoyed by my persistence. She started to get up, muttering about how I’d ruined the mood and she should just leave. I shot out a hand and grabbed her arm. “No, Aunt Rose. You can’t just leave.” She looked at me, exasperated. “I’ve apologized! What more do you want? Do you want me to get on my knees and beg?” I narrowed my eyes. “Everyone heard what you said. Since you admit it was a lie, then you need to clear my name. Right now. Get up on that stage and tell everyone that you’re a malicious gossip and everything you just said was a complete fabrication from your own sick mind.” Rose’s face hardened. Apologizing in front of this small group was humiliating enough. Now I was trying to force her onto the stage. Her patience snapped. “Jane, I apologized to give you an out. Don’t you dare think what I said wasn’t true. Let sleeping dogs lie. You should take that advice to heart.” My grip on her arm tightened. “So it is true? Then tell me the man’s name. Otherwise, you made it all up, and I’m suing you for slander.” That did it. Rose was officially provoked. “His name is Nathan! And he was married at the time! Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten that, too.” I froze for a split second. And in that same instant, Fiona’s face drained of all color. Rose didn’t notice her daughter’s strange reaction. She only saw mine and became instantly smug. “Remember now, do you?” Before I could speak, Fiona lurched forward, grabbing her mom’s arm and pulling her toward the exit. “Mom, you’ve gone too far! This is Jane’s wedding! We’re supposed to be friends! How are we ever supposed to face each other after this?” “What are you so afraid of?” Rose snapped back, shaking her off. “I gave the little brat a chance to save face, and she threw it back at me. A friend like that is no friend at all.” Rose had no idea. Fiona wasn’t afraid of our friendship ending. She was terrified of the truth coming out. In my past life, I always wondered how Rose could remember such specific details about a lie. But listening to her now, and seeing Fiona’s reaction, a bold idea began to form in my mind. The moment she said his name—Nathan—I was certain. Someone was a mistress in college. Someone had an abortion. But it wasn’t me. It was her own precious daughter, Fiona. I’d seen Fiona get into Nathan’s car near campus multiple times. I knew they’d been a thing for a while, but I never knew Nathan was married. And I remembered a time when Fiona was terribly weak and pale. When I asked what was wrong, she just said it was a bad period. I was naive back then. I didn’t understand how menstrual cramps could cause that much pain. Seeing them about to escape the reception hall, I blocked Rose’s path again. “You’re not leaving. You have to be my witness.” I insisted I had no memory of any of this, no memory of ever being involved with Nathan. Since she remembered it all so clearly, she could come with me to the police station and give a statement. If she refused, it was proof she was lying. Rose, however, thought I was just playing dumb, trying to bury the past. She stopped trying to leave and squared off with me. “It doesn’t matter if you admit it, it’s still true! And I’ll tell you what, Nathan is having his engagement party in this very hotel, right now. I’ll call him over. Let’s see how you handle that.” I lifted my chin. “Go on then. Get him over here. Let’s confront him together!” Spurred on, Rose wrenched her arm from Fiona’s grasp, pulled out her phone, and made the call. And it was true. Nathan really was in the hotel. A few minutes later, Nathan’s mother arrived. The second she appeared, Rose grabbed her hand. “During your son’s first marriage, did he or did he not get a college girl pregnant? Look, isn’t this her?” I expected Nathan’s mom to deny it, given the public setting. It wasn’t exactly something to be proud of. But to my surprise, she said smugly, “That was years ago, who remembers the details? But yes, there was some little thing who was always chasing after my Nathan.” Then she seemed to remember where she was and covered her mouth with a giggle. “Why did you call me over here to talk about this?” Rose shot me a triumphant smirk. “Did you hear that, Jane? Let’s just leave it at that. It’s your wedding day, so I’ll do you a favor and not air all of your dirty laundry.” With that, the two of them started chatting as if nothing was wrong, discussing Nathan’s second fiancée, the daughter of his boss, and how well his career was going. I cut in. “This lady only said ‘some little thing.’ How do you know that was me?” The entire hall was craning their necks, trying to catch every word. The wedding planner came over and whispered urgently that the ceremony was about to start. My parents, mortified, tried to pull me away. “Jane, what do you think you’re doing? Can’t this wait until after the wedding?” I shook my head like a metronome. “No. I want this settled now. Before my reputation is completely destroyed.” My dad’s voice was tight with anger. “She already gave you an out, didn’t you hear her? Drop it! Do you even want to get married or not?” I looked over at my future husband and mother-in-law. Their faces were as black as thunderclouds. The disgust in their eyes was overflowing. “This is the wonderful daughter-in-law you picked out for me,” my mother-in-law sneered at Ethan. “I told you from the start she was a little fox, but you wouldn’t listen.” Ethan strode over, his voice sharp with displeasure. “Jane, is any of this true? Because if it is, I don’t think we can go through with this wedding.” His mother added from behind him, “How utterly shameless. To make such a huge scene to cover up your own filthy past.” Their words were like daggers. My parents cared only about their own reputation, about getting the wedding over with. My fiancé thought I was embarrassing him. But he and I had met freshman year. We were inseparable for years. He, more than anyone, knew whether or not I’d been pregnant. And yet, in the end, he believed them too.

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The day our vacation started. I’d been wrestling with my curling iron for a solid hour, and my hair was still a mess of sad, uneven waves. Seeing my struggle, my boyfriend, Ryan, took the hot tool from my hand with the ease of a professional. He sectioned my hair, wrapped each strand around the barrel, and had a perfect cascade of curls finished in under fifteen minutes. He gently combed through the waves with his fingers, then frowned, muttering to himself, “Why does this look… different?” I lifted my head, meeting his eyes in the mirror. “What do you think is different?” I asked softly. He paused, a flicker of memory in his eyes. “The curve… it should be wider, I think.” 1 The air went still. The heat from the curling iron beside my ear seemed to sear its way straight into my heart. My fingers tightened around the comb, my throat suddenly tight. “Have you done this for someone else before?” Ryan’s hand froze in mid-air. “Ding-a-ling-ling, it’s eight o’clock! Time to get a move on, Lucy-Goosey!” The custom alarm he’d set for me shattered the silence. Ryan flinched as if waking from a dream. His hand jerked, and the hot barrel of the curling iron nearly grazed my neck. He fumbled to turn off the alarm, his voice feigning a casual tone. “Oh, yeah. Back in college, I got roped into being a stagehand for the drama club…” “You know, helping the girls with their hair and makeup sometimes.” The explanation was plausible. Ryan was exactly the kind of dependable guy who’d get stuck with grunt work for a club. But for some reason, the unease in my chest crested into a tidal wave. “Oh, right,” I said with a small, tight smile. “You’ve still got the magic touch, even five years after graduation.” He let out a dry laugh and turned to grab the purse I’d laid out for the day. “I’ve pretty much forgotten it all.” “Come on, let’s go. If we don’t leave now, the lines at Disney will be insane.” I took a deep breath, watching him expertly pack my bag with compact powder, sunscreen, and tissues. He even found the exact shade of lipstick I’d mentioned off-handedly last night. I forced my brow to smooth. I had to be overthinking this. Thankfully, traffic was light, and we made it to the park before the massive crowds descended. I had been looking forward to this trip for three months, and the second we were through the gates, I was dragging Ryan around, demanding he take pictures of me. Ryan raised the camera. “Head a little to the left,” he directed. “Chin down, slightly. Don’t slouch.” Strangely, the woman in his photos today was stunning. The composition, the lighting, the angles—everything was perfect. He’d even learned how to use portrait mode to blur out the crowds. In the photos, my smile was radiant, but the hand scrolling through them began to tremble. In the five years we’d been together, Ryan had indulged my every whim except for one: photography. He always complained it was a hassle, and his pictures were consistently lazy and poorly framed. They say the person who loves you takes the best pictures of you. We’d fought about it more times than I could count. The anxiety from this morning, which I had tried so hard to suppress, came rushing back, heavy and suffocating. Could someone’s photography skills improve so drastically overnight? Noticing my darkening expression, Ryan asked softly, “What’s wrong, babe? You don’t like them? It’s my fault. We can try another spot, I can try again.” I shook my head, forcing down the sour knot in my stomach. I manufactured a smile. “No, they’re beautiful. I’m just not used to you making me look this good.” Ryan chuckled, ruffling my hair. “You were always complaining about my terrible photos. I actually took some lessons from a pro. What do you think? Big improvement, right?” I stared into his eyes. “Your teacher must be a miracle worker,” I said, my voice soft. “I tried to teach you for five years and got nowhere, but she gets through to you instantly.” Ryan froze for a second, then shrugged with his hands open. “Babe, she’s a professional. Besides, aren’t you happy? You always said I didn’t love you enough to capture your beauty. I guess this proves I do, right?” I don’t remember how I responded. The rest of the day passed in a numb haze. It wasn’t until we were back in the hotel that night that the one question I’d been avoiding consumed me. Who taught him? Ryan tossed his jacket and phone onto the bed the moment he walked in and headed straight for the shower. I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at his phone. After a few seconds, my trembling hand reached out and unlocked it. The passcode hadn’t changed. It was still my birthday. I swiped open the screen, my heart hammering against my ribs. WhatsApp, call logs, messages… all clean. He’d even cleared his Uber Eats order history. Everything was flawless. Too flawless. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Just as I was about to put the phone back, my eyes caught his weather app. Orlando, FL: Sunny, 82°F Savannah, GA: Cloudy, 79°F Savannah? But we lived in New York. My fingers froze. My chest felt like it was being squeezed in a vise. Ryan had been to Savannah. Three months ago, for “work.” In that single, gut-wrenching second, I knew. Ryan was cheating on me. The water in the bathroom shut off. Ryan walked out, toweling his hair, and saw me holding his phone. He smiled. “How’s the inspection going? Find anything interesting?” His tone was so light, almost teasing, as if he was certain I’d find nothing. I forced the corners of my mouth up. “Just browsing.” He walked over, leaned down, and kissed my forehead, his damp hair brushing against my cheek. “Send me a few of the pictures from today. I want to post one.” I nodded, selecting a few and sending them over. He looked down at his phone, a smile playing on his lips as his fingers tapped the screen. “This one’s perfect.” I leaned over to look. It was a photo of my back as I stood under the fireworks, my curled hair cascading down. My style was so different from the straight hair I’d worn for years that from a distance, you could barely tell it was me. “I’m posting this one,” he said. I stared at his screen, my throat dry. “But… you can’t even see my face.” He didn’t look up. “It’s all about the vibe. It’s a great shot. Besides, all my friends know you’re my girlfriend.” A few minutes later, his Instagram was updated. The caption: “Showcasing what I’ve learned.” My heart shattered. He wasn’t posting it for me. He was posting it for the person who taught him photography. Later that night, tucked under the covers, I smothered my ragged sobs into the pillow. The tears that soaked the fabric were my only release. Over and over, one word echoed in my mind. Why? I had been betrayed. But why Ryan? Why the man who had pulled me from the depths of my despair? Why the man I had loved for five years? I wanted so desperately to lie to myself again. But it was impossible, not when the video of the two of them was still saved on my phone. 2 I barely slept. As dawn broke, painting the sky in pale shades of grey, Ryan was still fast asleep, his breathing even and deep. I slipped out of bed and walked to the window. The Orlando morning was cool and damp. I opened my phone and went to the single account Ryan followed on TikTok. Sometimes you have to marvel at technology. It knows not just big data, but the secrets of the human heart. I never used the app, yet the first video it ever pushed to my feed was proof of my boyfriend’s affair. I clicked on the girl’s profile. Her username was @CurlsAndClicks. Her profile picture was a backlit silhouette, her long, curly hair caught in the wind. I scrolled down, finding her very first video, posted on March 4th. In it, Ryan was standing under a massive, moss-draped oak tree in what looked like a park in Savannah. Sunlight dappled his shoulders through the leaves. He looked a little awkward, smiling at the camera, as a girl’s bright voice came from off-screen: “Come on, handsome, work with me! Just one shot!” So that’s how they met. She was a street photographer. That’s where Ryan learned his new skills. I stared at the screen. The ends of the girl’s hair, occasionally visible in the frame, were about the same length as mine, with a gentle curl. From a distance, she looked eerily similar to the silhouette in the photo he’d posted to his Instagram. So, when he posted that photo, was he thinking of her? I scrolled mechanically through her feed. There were seven videos featuring him in total. From March 1st to May 31st. I watched them hundreds of times, like a mini-series, witnessing their journey from strangers exchanging pleasantries to the easy intimacy of two people who know each other well. The last video was from the day before Ryan’s “business trip” ended. He was at a train station, looking down at her, his eyes filled with a tenderness that stabbed me in the heart. The girl’s voice was full of laughter. “Next time you see me, you better bring me a cheesecake from New York.” Ryan reached out and gently tucked a curl behind her ear. “I will,” he said softly. “And next time, I’ll style your hair even better for you.” His words from yesterday morning echoed in my ears: The curve… it should be wider, I think. So that was it. All the little details I had deliberately ignored over the past few months now flooded my mind. Ryan and I used to be inseparable. We’d video call on our lunch breaks and stay on the phone until we fell asleep. But ever since his trip to Savannah, my calls had started going unanswered more and more often. I told myself he was busy with work, but it only got worse after he came back. He, who used to hate texting, was now glued to his phone, a small smile constantly playing on his lips. When I asked who he was talking to, he wouldn’t even look up. “Just the project team. We’re finally making progress on the proposal.” I was happy for him at the time. We had started talking about getting married a year ago. I came from a single-parent family, and my mom had passed away, but Ryan’s parents adored me. All that was left was for him to propose. I waited and waited. What I got instead was him pulling away. He had rejected my advances three times since he got back from his trip. Each time, it was, “I’m sorry, Lucy, I’m just so swamped with work. Can we wait a few days?” Eventually, he stopped giving me the chance to even try, either falling asleep early or hiding away in his study. How pathetic. I’d actually booked a Botox consultation, thinking I’d lost my appeal. I even secretly saw a therapist, wondering if I was just being overly sensitive. Now I knew the truth. His heart had been occupied by someone else for a long time. I closed the video, took a deep breath, and opened a travel app. I quickly booked two train tickets to Savannah. Then, I turned, walked back to the bed, and gently shook Ryan’s shoulder. “Wake up. Change of plans.” He blinked his eyes open, his voice raspy. “…What?” “I want to go to Savannah.” His pupils contracted. He was instantly wide awake. “Savannah? Why the sudden change?” “Isn’t that where you were on your business trip for three months?” I tilted my head, my tone light and breezy. “I want to see it.” He shot up in bed, his brow furrowed, a machine-gun spray of objections firing from his lips. “But we’re not done in Orlando! We only spent one day at Disney!” “And you’ve always wanted to stay at the Grand Floridian! We waited a month for this reservation. It would be a shame to cancel.” “And what about that restaurant you’ve been dying to try…” “None of that matters anymore,” I interrupted, waving my phone. “A friend gave me two concert tickets. My favorite artist. It’s in Savannah.” His expression froze for a second, then visibly relaxed. “…A concert?” “Yep. They added a last-minute show. The tickets were impossible to get.” I stared into his eyes. “You don’t want to go with me?” “Of course I do!” he exclaimed, scrambling out of bed so quickly it was as if he was afraid I’d change my mind. “I’ll pack our bags right now.” I watched his hurried retreat, a corner of the wedding veil I’d packed peeking out of his suitcase. A slow smile spread across my face. “I’m looking forward to it, too.” 3 On the train to Savannah, Ryan was unusually busy, taking one call after another. He stepped out into the corridor to talk, away from me. I didn’t have the energy to care. The exhaustion from my sleepless night washed over me. In a drowsy haze, I thought I heard his voice. “Mom, yeah, change of plans… Yes, we’re going to Savannah instead…” The concert was the next day. By the time we checked into our hotel, it was already evening. Ryan put away our luggage and boiled some water, playing the part of the perfect boyfriend. I sat down at the vanity and deliberately pushed the curling iron towards him. “I want curls again tonight.” “My pleasure,” he said with a smile, taking it and expertly sectioning my hair. Sunlight streamed through the sheer curtains, dancing on his focused expression. As the steam from the hot iron rose between us, he suddenly spoke. “Lucy, after the concert tomorrow night…” “Hm?” “…I have a surprise for you.” The tips of his ears turned a faint red, and he quickly changed the subject. “All done. What do you think? Do you like it?” I examined my reflection from all angles. It was uncanny. It looked more and more like hers. The curve of the waves was identical to the girl’s in the video. I nodded. “Your skills are getting seriously good.” “By the way,” I said casually, applying my lipstick, “I hired a street photographer for tonight. The city is supposed to be beautiful at night. I want to get some couples photos.” “Great idea!” His eyes lit up, and he picked up his camera, mimicking a shot. “Maybe I can steal a few tricks from them.” Seeing the smile on his lips, I mirrored it with my own. “You’d better pay close attention, then.” 4 The riverfront in Savannah was bustling with tourists as evening fell. I clung affectionately to Ryan’s arm. When the familiar, curly-haired figure appeared at our designated meeting spot, I felt the man beside me go completely rigid. “Hi!” I waved enthusiastically. “You must be Kathy, right?” 5 The girl’s smile froze the moment she saw Ryan. The two of them stood as if petrified, the very air around them seeming to stop. “What’s wrong?” I tilted my head, my face a mask of confusion. “You two look like you’ve seen a ghost… Do you know each other?” “No!” Ryan snapped back to reality, his voice an octave too high. “We don’t!” The girl—Kathy—turned deathly pale, her fingers clutching the strap of her camera. I let go of Ryan’s arm and stepped forward to link my arm with hers. “You’re so pretty! And our hair is almost the same! Did you curl it yourself? You’re so talented.” “I’m hopeless at it. My boyfriend always has to do it for me. He’s amazing at it.” One of my sentences must have flipped a switch. Kathy’s eyes instantly welled with tears, but she forced herself to speak. “Really? It looks… beautiful.” “Are you… ready? We can start whenever you are.” Throughout the entire photoshoot, Ryan’s expression grew more and more strained. I, on the other hand, was having the time of my life, pulling him into one pose after another. The more intimate our poses became, the slower her shutter clicked. “Are we done?” she finally asked, her voice choked with emotion. “I’m… I’m not feeling my best today…” “What’s wrong?” I asked with feigned concern. She shot a panicked glance at Ryan, who quickly looked away. “I just… broke up with someone. I’m sorry. There’s no charge for today.” “He’s a dog,” I said, patting her shoulder comfortingly. “They all are.” “Thanks for the free session. I want to post these tonight. Could you send them to me as soon as possible?” Kathy nodded frantically. But Ryan suddenly stepped forward, told Kathy to open her Venmo, and sent her the money. “You earned it,” he said curtly. Then he grabbed my arm and practically dragged me away. I looked back over my shoulder and waved at Kathy. “Don’t forget the photos!~” Ryan walked so fast he didn’t look back once. I watched his retreating back and let a wide, unrestrained smile spread across my face. The show was just getting started. 6 Back at the hotel, Ryan masked his emotions with terrifying speed. He casually put my bag away and thoughtfully turned up the air conditioning. I sat on the bed, scrolling through the photos Kathy had just sent. I zoomed in on one. “This girl is really talented, isn’t she?” Ryan’s hands, which were busy unpacking, paused. He asked, feigning indifference, “Where did you find this photographer?” “A friend recommended her,” I said without looking up. “The same one who gave me the concert tickets.” His breath hitched for a fraction of a second. “Which friend? How come I don’t know them?” “A new contractor from work,” I said, still scrolling nonchalantly through my phone. “I’ll introduce you next time.” Ryan suddenly got up and wrapped his arms around me from behind, his warm lips pressing urgently against my neck. “Babe, it’s been so long. I want you…” His heartbeat was heavy and fast against my back, as if he was seeking some kind of confirmation. “Stop…” I coughed twice and pushed him away. “It’s so windy tonight. I think I’m catching a cold.” He immediately let go, a flicker of genuine panic in his eyes. “I’ll go make you some medicine.” As I watched him hurry away, I opened my Instagram and carefully selected nine of Kathy’s photos. The caption: “Met the most amazing photographer! So much better than some people I know~ ” Less than three minutes after I posted it, Kathy’s account updated with a new text-only post. No picture, just a single line: “I still couldn’t help myself. I needed to see you.” I turned off my screen just as I heard Ryan’s footsteps approaching with a mug. “Drink this while it’s hot,” he said, his voice gentle. “You need to be in top shape for the concert tomorrow.” I took the mug with a smile. “You too.”

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Father hired two retired mercenaries as bodyguards. The younger one, steel-eyed, only had eyes for my sister. I got Allen—his hearing impaired, body trembling from neurotoxin damage. I chose him, unable to bear him becoming a training dummy for recruits. When his pain flared, I soothed his muscles through sleepless nights. Took him to specialists weekly, though he never thanked me. When he couldn’t protect me, I trained myself instead, begging Father not to send him away. I told myself war had broken him. That my care could fix him. Then came the lab explosion. He ripped the gas mask from my hands. “Rose needs this more,” he rasped. As smoke swallowed me, his last words were: “Next life, I’ll repay you.” That’s when I knew—his silence wasn’t trauma. It was a wall built just for me. I woke back in that sunlit room, the morning we chose our guards. … I stared at the two brothers before me, the silence stretching. My sister, Rose, bit her lip, her gaze flickering nervously toward me. “Oh, Nina… maybe I should take Allen? You’re so delicate, you really need someone strong like Finn to protect you.” As she spoke, she took a tiny, deliberate step away from Finn and closer to Allen. The big, cold-shouldered man instantly went rigid, a flash of pure panic in his eyes. I remained silent, the memories of my first life crashing over me like a tidal wave. Last time, after Rose and Finn had all but chosen each other, I’d been caught in the same hesitation. And just like now, Rose had suddenly offered up the stronger brother, framing it as a sacrifice for my sake. Looking at her now, her face a perfect mask of concern, I remembered how I’d genuinely believed she was looking out for me. I’d been a fool, so sure of her goodness that I’d stubbornly refused. I didn’t want my little sister to be saddled with a burden, and I couldn’t stomach the thought of the frail-looking Allen being sent back to a place that would surely kill him. A decision that led to my death in a burning laboratory, where Rose, feigning reluctance, accepted the gas mask that both my bodyguards had ripped from me. Her chosen guard, Finn, had a perfect score in hazardous environment training. She had an emergency auto-injector of the antidote right there in her purse. But she’d only made a few token protests before accepting her prize. That was always her way. She knew I couldn’t stand to see anyone sacrifice for me, that I would always be the one to step back. She got what she wanted and the reputation of a saint for it. But not this time. “Fine,” I said, my voice calm and even. “Let Allen be your guard.” The self-satisfied smile waiting to bloom on Rose’s face froze solid. She wasn’t the only one stunned. Both brothers snapped their heads up, their expressions a mixture of shock and disbelief. “Don’t be ridiculous!” my father’s voice boomed, directed at Rose. “You are the heir to Leech Enterprises. Your safety is paramount. This man is a liability; he can’t even take care of himself. How can he possibly protect you?” A small, knowing smile touched my lips. So, Father knew the full extent of Allen’s condition. This whole selection process was just for show. But then… Rose’s tense shoulders visibly relaxed. She was just about to conjure up a tear when a voice, rough from disuse but clear, cut through the tension. “I’m fit for duty.” My head shot up. The man who hadn’t spoken a single word to me in five years in my past life was now speaking? My eyes met his. They were weary, haunted, but lucid. And in that moment, I knew. He remembered. He remembered everything. So much for repaying his debt in the next life. He’d come back just as terrified of being stuck with me as he was the first time. Too bad for him. This time, I had no intention of choosing him anyway. “My combat readiness can be tested, sir,” Allen continued, his voice steady. I didn’t doubt his skills for a second. After I died, my spirit had watched him take on three armed thugs to save Rose, his combat knife a silver blur as he slit their throats with chilling precision. The irony was bitter. I’d spent years training in martial arts just so Father wouldn’t discard him like a broken tool. As expected, when he dropped the facade of weakness, it was over in five seconds. A blur of motion, a sharp crack, and our top combat instructor was flat on his back, gasping for air with Allen’s boot on his chest. The tension in my father’s face eased. The budding tears in Rose’s eyes vanished without a trace. To be fair, Allen was handsomer than his brother. If not for the poison and the hearing damage, Rose would have picked him from the start. “Very well,” Father declared. “Allen will be assigned to you. Finn, you’ll protect Nina.” At the final assignment, Finn’s gaze swept over me. When it fell to my legs—useless, twisted things hidden beneath a cashmere blanket—a flicker of undisguised revulsion crossed his face. Suddenly, he dropped to one knee. “Sir, I request a transfer. Back to the compound.” Father’s face darkened. “A seven-figure salary isn’t enough to keep you? You’d rather go back there to die?” Finn didn’t even try to hide it. He deliberately looked away from my wheelchair. “I’m not qualified to protect Miss Leech.” A bitter smile played on my lips. The injury I’d gotten at twelve, saving Rose from being run over, was still the stain I could never wash away. Allen’s coldness in my past life suddenly made a lot more sense. “Finn! How could you say that to my sister!” Rose cried, rushing to his side and striking his shoulder with a trembling hand. When Finn looked up at her, his eyes were blazing with a raw, fierce emotion. “I only came here for one person.” The room fell silent. I let out a soft, humorless laugh. Rose quickly suppressed her triumphant smile, hitting his shoulder again, a little more theatrically this time. “Don’t say things like that! I won’t let you go back!” “Why make things difficult?” I said, my fingers tracing the armrest of my wheelchair. “Rose can just have them both.” Rose’s cheeks flushed. “Nina… what are you saying?” The Leech brothers were undeniably handsome. From the moment they had entered the room, Rose’s gaze had been stuck to them like glue. Father considered it for a moment. “Are you sure you don’t want a guard?” “I’m sure. I don’t want them. Either of them.” Both brothers looked at me then. I could see the question in their eyes, wondering what gave me the right to be so dismissive. Allen’s stare was particularly intense, a storm of emotions I couldn’t begin to decipher. I didn’t want to. I couldn’t be bothered. “Then what about your safety?” Father asked. “Then I suppose I’m not safe,” I admitted, meeting his gaze without flinching. He was clearly taken aback. “In that case, Father,” I continued, “why don’t you send me to work with my uncle? He has more than enough security personnel.” In my past life, all my energy had been poured into Allen. I’d missed every opportunity, every shift in the family’s corporate landscape. My situation and my sister’s were worlds apart. Father always said he loved us equally, but the stock distribution documents only ever had two names on them: Rose and my uncle. While my uncle was conquering markets overseas, growing the family fortune exponentially, Rose’s annual dividends were enough to buy an entire financial district. Meanwhile, I had to grovel with the finance department just to get approval for Allen’s specialized medication. If I wanted to change my fate, I had to get in the game myself. My uncle, who rarely saw his forgotten niece, was dismissive. His secretary assigned me to a dead-end department and left me there. I didn’t complain. I didn’t fight. I just quietly built my own little kingdom. The business acumen I’d never had a chance to use in my past life flourished, surprising even myself. After I landed the toughest multinational contract on the books, my uncle summoned me to his office for the first time. He threw me a belated welcome party and handed me control of the entire Asia-Pacific division. The company was on the verge of going public; even if he favored Rose, he needed my skills right now. Soon, the whispers in the business world began to change. My name was being mentioned alongside Rose’s—the “Jewel of Leech Enterprises.” One evening, returning to the family estate, Rose intercepted me on the veranda. “You’re making a lot of noise, Nina,” she said, her voice a sweet poison. I raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been everywhere lately, schmoozing at every event. I’m not trying to be a wet blanket, sister, but a lucky streak doesn’t make you a player. If you stumble, you’ll tarnish the Leech name.” She paused, her eyes darting toward Allen, who stood a few feet away. “Besides, with all this attention on… you… what respectable man would ever propose?” Her gaze lingered meaningfully on my wheelchair. “I think it’s time you stopped bothering Uncle. From now on, I’ll take you to the parties.” I laughed, a cold, sharp sound. “Are you jealous I’m stealing your spotlight?” Her pupils contracted. “Let me ask you something, Rose. In what capacity are you telling me to stand down? As the official heir? The youngest member of the board?” I leaned forward. “No matter what happens, you benefit the most. So where do you get the nerve to tell me to sit down and be quiet?” “Nina, how could you…” Her eyes instantly filled with tears. I cut off her performance with a glacial stare. “And since you brought up my legs, maybe we should talk about that ‘accident’ when I was twelve.” Her face went pale. “I shoved you out of the way of that car, didn’t I? But tell me, who was it that gave me that final, decisive shove, right into the path of the wheels?” Rose stumbled back, her trembling fingers pressed to her lips. “Don’t give me that look. You’re not the one who ended up crippled for life.” I began to turn my wheelchair to leave. “Go on, keep being the Jewel of Leech Enterprises.” She crumpled to the marble floor, a perfect picture of wounded innocence, her tears splashing onto the polished stone. “No, sister… it wasn’t like that… I was so scared…” she sobbed. “How can you think I’m so evil…” “Enough!” Finn strode forward, scooping her into his arms. “That’s enough, Nina,” he growled, his voice dangerously disrespectful. “You’ve gone too far!” Rose immediately clung to his shirt, her voice trembling. “Finn, don’t… I’m fine… really…” The words were barely out before her whole body started to shake. A flicker of pain crossed Allen’s face. He looked directly at me. “You should apologize.” I almost laughed out loud. He just stood there, waiting. The slap echoed in the hallway. Rose gasped, throwing herself in front of him. “Nina! How could you hit him!” I slowly lowered my stinging hand. “You might want to teach your pet some manners, Rose. Before he forgets who signs his checks.” “You—” Finn’s fists clenched, his knuckles cracking. Allen touched his own reddening cheek, his expression one of pure, unadulterated shock. I spun my wheelchair around and left them there, not giving them a chance to say another word. I had planned to pack my bags and move into the corporate apartment, to get away from this toxic swamp for good. But the next morning, my bedroom door splintered off its hinges. Finn burst in, and before I could even process what was happening, he was dragging me violently from my bed. “Rose has been kidnapped! You’re coming with me, now!” In a flash, I had the handgun from the hidden compartment in my wheelchair. I pressed the cold muzzle to his temple. “Move, and you’re dead.” “And for the record,” I hissed, “her being kidnapped has nothing to do with me!” “Still lying!” Finn’s eyes were bloodshot, crazed. He hadn’t slept. “If it wasn’t for the vicious things you said yesterday, she never would have driven off in the middle of the night! The kidnappers want to trade. This is your chance to atone for what you did!” The door was thrown open again and Allen rushed in, his face ashen. He looked up at the second floor. “Did you find her?” Finn yanked on my collar. “The kidnappers agreed to a swap.” His voice was low and menacing. “You started this. You’re going to finish it.” “You’re asking to die,” I snarled, slamming the butt of my gun into his face. His eyebrow split open, blood welling instantly. “A hired goon dares to lay a finger on me?” The blow dazed him, but it only made his eyes more feral. “With all due respect, Miss Leech, you don’t have a choice in this.” His hand shot out, grabbing my wrist in a vice grip. “For Rose, we’ll take the punishment later! Allen! Restrain her!” Against Finn, my marksmanship gave me a fighting chance. Against Allen, I had none. With a deafening clang, my gun was on the floor and I was slammed back into my wheelchair. Allen’s combat boots filled my vision. I struggled, thrashed, but I was no match for the two of them. I looked up, my last shred of hope fixed on him. “Allen… don’t do this… please…” His Adam’s apple bobbed. He turned his face away. “I’m sorry.” Click. The sound of the magazine being ejected from my gun was the sound of my world ending. I was completely at their mercy. On the way to the drop point, Allen himself stood guard over me. “You came back, too,” he said suddenly. A mocking smile twisted my lips. “And you’re still just as cruel to me.” He was silent for a moment. Then, his voice was a low rasp. “I owe you.” SLAP. I struck him again, with all the force I could muster. “Two lifetimes, and your apologies are still this cheap.” His head snapped to the side, his hair falling over his eyes. I could only hear his voice, low and strained. “I swear, this is the last time.” He grabbed my wrist, his grip painfully tight. “We trade you for her. The debt from our last life will be paid.” His voice dropped to a desperate whisper. “After this, I’ll protect you. I’ll spend the rest of my life protecting you, I swear.” I turned my head away and scoffed. His knuckles went white as he squeezed my wrist harder. “This is all for show,” he insisted. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.” The exchange was set for an abandoned shipyard. The moment I passed Rose, she suddenly stumbled, lurching forward with a cry. “Allen! Finn!” My head whipped around. Allen was the first to move, crossing the distance in a heartbeat to catch her. Finn was right behind him, expertly slicing the ropes from her wrists. Allen’s arms were wrapped around her so tightly his knuckles were white, his whole body trembling. I could just make out the shape of his words as he buried his face in her hair. “I’m so sorry… I failed you… I let you suffer…” A strange, dull ache bloomed in my chest. I had warned myself not to hope, not to expect anything. The rough scrape of rope against my skin broke my trance. Before I could even make a sound, a strip of cold, sticky tape was slapped across my mouth.

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When the private photos of Lary Croft landed in my hands, I knew he had cheated again. This time, it was with his personal secretary, a woman who bore a striking resemblance to me. I numbly went through the usual motions, offering her money to disappear. But this time, she looked at me, her eyes red with defiance. “Ms. Thorne,” she said, her voice trembling, “do you believe me when I say that if I leave, Mr. Croft and your mother will lose their minds?” She made a bet with me, then intentionally left behind a resignation letter full of feigned humiliation and vanished. At first, I didn’t take her words to heart. Every one of Lary’s mistresses had said something similar, some final act of defiance before they took the money and ran. But this time, when my mother heard the news, her hair turned white overnight. And Lary, my husband of seven years, handed me a divorce agreement. “Ivy was my mother-in-law’s illegitimate daughter, raised outside the family,” he said, his voice flat. “And we have a five-year-old child together. I’ve been with her longer than I’ve been with you.” “She is our life.” My world tilted. It was then I realized the woman’s words were true. Without her, my mother and my husband really would go insane. 1 “Either you tell us where Ivy is, or we sever our mother-daughter relationship.” “Get out of the Thorne family home right now.” My mother’s hoarse voice made my heart skip a beat. I stared at them, my head reeling. For the first time, the world felt utterly absurd. “I really don’t know anything.” My voice was a faint, powerless whisper. It only filled my mother’s eyes with profound disappointment. Lary threw Ivy’s resignation letter at my feet. It was filled with accusations against me and professions of her heartbreak at leaving them. “I don’t care how you treat other people.” “But why did you have to touch Ivy? She and the child have vanished without a trace. Are you telling me you have nothing to do with it?!” Lary’s voice grew louder with each word. He had been searching for her all night, his eyes shot through with red. The man who was always so composed was now a mess of raw panic. I closed my eyes, the simple act of breathing sending a sharp pain through my lungs. “Ivy took my money. She left voluntarily. I don’t know where she is.” Seeing my detached demeanor, Lary’s patience finally snapped. He turned to my mother. “Mother, she’s not going to tell the truth. Who knows what she’s done to Ivy…” “And don’t forget about Lary Junior. The child is missing too. He’s your only biological grandchild.” At his words, my mother slowly rose to her feet. Her bodyguards moved as one, surrounding me. “Lily,” she said, her voice cold and even, “you and Ivy are both my children. If you confess now, I promise I won’t punish you.” “I’m giving you one last chance. Just tell me where Ivy is, and I will forgive you. You will still be the eldest daughter of the Thorne family.” The woman before me blurred with the memory of the mother I once knew. But the warmth in her eyes was gone, replaced by ice. My lips trembled. I tried to speak, but only a choked sob escaped. My mother’s patience wore thin. She waved her hand, and the bodyguards seized my shoulders. “Break her fingers first.” A sharp crack echoed in the silent room. The agony of a broken bone shot up my arm, and the blood drained from my face. I stared at my mother in disbelief. The last flicker of hope in my heart died. I bit down on my lip, sweat dripping onto the floor. One finger wasn’t enough, so they broke a second, then a third… Just as my vision started to go black, Lary’s phone rang, a shrill, urgent sound. “Mr. Croft, we’ve found Ms. Shaw.” The words were my salvation. I was tossed aside, a broken doll on the floor. All ten of my fingers were twisted at unnatural angles, swollen and black. My mother and Lary heaved a collective sigh of relief. The smiles returned to their faces, but they didn’t spare me another glance. As he was leaving, Lary paused. He looked back at me, crumpled on the ground. “Sign the divorce papers today. I don’t want my child to be illegitimate too.” The door slammed shut, the gust of wind it created sending the divorce agreement fluttering to the floor. Lary had already signed his name. The date beneath his signature was from seven years ago. The day after our wedding, he had already prepared for our divorce. I gasped for air, my phone screen lighting up the darkness. A flood of messages. A cold notification from my mother. A social media update from Lary, celebrating the return of his beloved. And one other message, from a stranger who had texted me without fail for seven years. “Lily, I’m coming home soon. If you’re willing, the offer I made seven years ago still stands…” 2 I sat there all night, motionless, until the first light of dawn broke through the windows. Then, I signed my name on the document. The marriage I had carefully protected for seven years had left me with nothing. I took the divorce papers to Lary’s company. As I stepped inside, several employees rushed out of the break room, their faces flushed. They bumped into me, their eyes full of a pity they couldn’t voice. Before I could react, a high-pitched moan echoed through the main office. Everyone immediately lowered their heads, pretending not to hear. My heart sank. I took a step forward, but my assistant quickly blocked my path. “Mrs. Croft, maybe you shouldn’t go in.” A crowd of employees had gathered, their stares burning into my skin. “Is this a first for Mr. Croft? In broad daylight, right here in the office…” “Ivy Shaw quit suddenly yesterday. He was going crazy looking for her. Now that he’s got her back, I guess he just couldn’t hold it in.” “I can’t believe Mrs. Croft is still with him. She has the patience of a saint.” “Well, she’s hopelessly in love with him, isn’t she?” My gaze fell on the office window. The blinds, usually open, were drawn shut. The sounds of their passion were unabashed. Through the slats, I could see clothes scattered on the floor. I slowly lowered my head, my eyes dry and aching. In our world of corporate marriages, there was an unwritten rule. Even after marriage, you could have your own life, your own affairs, as long as you didn’t interfere with each other. I thought Lary was different. But six months into our marriage, he changed. I had fought, I had screamed, I had threatened suicide. It all ended in mutual destruction. “Lily Thorne, not everyone’s heart stays the same forever.” “We’re still husband and wife. You’re free to pursue your own happiness too.” Lary’s words from long ago echoed in my ears. I looked at the closed office door, took a deep breath, and pushed it open. The onlookers scattered. The office was a mess. The framed photo of us that used to sit on his desk was now shattered on the floor. The lust hadn’t yet faded from Lary’s eyes. When he saw me, there was no panic. He kissed the corner of Ivy’s lips, his eyes mocking me. “Didn’t you know someone was in the office? Or do you have a habit of eavesdropping?” His aggressive questioning made my stomach churn. A wave of nausea rose in my throat, but I swallowed it down. Seeing my silence, Lary grew impatient. He gently pushed Ivy away and straightened his disheveled clothes. The angry red scratches on his chest were glaring. I looked away, my voice hoarse. “We need to talk.” “Sister, am I in your way?” Ivy suddenly interjected. She smiled at me, deliberately revealing the dark marks on her neck. As expected, Lary’s expression soured at her words. “Besides the divorce, we have nothing to talk about. Ivy is your sister. Why do you have to be so hostile towards her?” He rarely protected anyone so fiercely. Now, he was shielding Ivy behind him, his eyes wary. I sighed and placed the signed divorce agreement on the desk in front of him. When he saw my signature, his eyes widened in surprise. He snatched the document, scanned it carefully, and then let out a cold snort. “Good. You know what’s best for you. Even after the divorce, we can still be family.” “Don’t touch Ivy again. You don’t want Mom to disown you, do you?” With that, he took Ivy and left, as if my very presence was something he couldn’t stand. 3 I returned home, exhausted. My eyes fell on the unread message on my phone. My fingers hovered over the keyboard for a long time before I finally typed a reply. “I’m willing.” I had always known who the sender was. Before I married Lary, there was another boy who had followed me, a silent shadow. The day I got married, he left the country. For seven years, the only contact had been birthday and New Year’s greetings. I had stubbornly held onto a failing marriage for seven years, blind to the one who was waiting for me. Suppressing the bitterness in my heart, I contacted a lawyer to start the process of dividing our assets. Not long after, the door was thrown open. My mother stumbled in, her face a mask of frantic anxiety. Before I could react, a heavy slap landed across my face. My mother collapsed beside me, sobbing. “Lily Thorne, you are a monster! Why can’t you change? Why can’t you just leave Ivy alone!” My ears were ringing. My lip was split, and blood dripped onto the floor. Lary grabbed me by the throat, his hoarse roars making my head spin. “Was it you? Did you send people to kidnap Ivy and Lary Junior? I just took my eyes off her for a second, and she was gone!” “What will it take for you to leave them alone?!” My mother held out a small box, her hands trembling. Inside was a severed finger. A child’s finger. It looked like it had just been cut. “Lily, Lary Junior is my only grandson. He’s been raised in secret all his life, bearing the shame of being illegitimate.” “Why can’t you even spare a child?” The lines on my mother’s face had deepened. She looked utterly exhausted. “I can’t let you continue down this path.” Once again, they didn’t listen to a word I said. Once again, they had already decided I was the mastermind behind the kidnapping. My mother called the police. Without a second thought, she had me sent to a detention center. To break me, she had them use “enhanced interrogation techniques.” The electric baton slammed into my body. I convulsed, my eyes rolling back in my head. My mother and Lary watched without a flicker of sympathy. My screams turned to whimpers, and finally to silence, my breath coming in shallow gasps. Then, a message came from the kidnappers. A video. Ivy and Lary Junior, blindfolded and tied to chairs. They were covered in blood. The child looked lifeless. The sight made my mother nearly faint. Lary’s face was ashen. He snarled at the kidnapper on the screen. “How much do you want? We’ll give you anything. Just don’t hurt my son—” The kidnapper laughed. “You want to save your son? Fine. A life for a life.” “Break Ms. Thorne’s legs and bring her here in exchange.” My mother and Lary froze. They both turned to look at me. I could no longer speak, only manage a weak, broken plea. “Mom… it wasn’t me…” A flicker of hesitation crossed my mother’s eyes. But then, Ivy’s desperate cries came from the video. “Mom! Lary! Come save Lary Junior! He’s not going to make it!” “Sister, I’m begging you, he’s just a child!” The hesitation in their eyes vanished, replaced by grim resolve. Lary picked up a nearby chair and advanced on me. My heart plummeted. I looked at him, my eyes pleading. “Lary, you can’t do this to me.” He gritted his teeth and brought the chair down on my knees with all his might. Again and again. My legs were shattered. I collapsed to the floor, a useless heap. Lary pulled me into a tight embrace, his voice trembling. “Lily, forgive me. I can’t live without Ivy. When you come back safely, I will spend the rest of my life atoning for this.” My mother wiped her tears and looked at the kidnapper on the screen. “We’re bringing her to you now. You must let my daughter and grandson go, unharmed!”

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I caught my husband cheating. In my best friend’s bed. And the man who’d supposedly been impotent for three years? He was anything but, tangled up with her in a sweaty, writhing mess. I raised my phone, capturing the whole sordid scene from every possible angle. Then, I bundled up the photos and sent them to her husband. With a little note attached: “Looks like your wife’s a miracle worker. She can even cure impotence.” 1 “Well, honey. You seem to have made a swift recovery.” I leaned against the doorframe, my voice light and breezy. The two figures on the bed froze, turning to stone. My husband, Louis, stared at me as if he’d seen a ghost, his mouth opening and closing but no words coming out. My dear best friend, Jane, was quicker on the uptake, snatching the duvet to cover her naked body. “Susan… We…” “Don’t rush to explain,” I said, pulling out my phone. “Let me get a picture first. This is the first time in our three years of marriage I’ve seen my husband looking so… vigorous.” Louis, jolted back to reality, lunged for my phone. The duvet fell away, and the sight nearly blinded me. “Whoa there, honey, take it easy,” I said, taking a step back. “What’s got you so worked up? It’s not like I haven’t seen it before.” I paused, tapping my chin thoughtfully. “Oh, that’s right. I guess I haven’t seen it. After all, you’ve been saving yourself for my best friend for the past three years.” Jane’s face was crimson. “Susan, listen to me, it’s not what you think.” I smiled sweetly at her. “What’s there to explain? You sacrificed your own body to help cure my husband’s little problem. I should be thanking you.” My smile widened. “Why don’t you two carry on? I’m just going to give your husband, Paul, a call. I’m sure he’d love to see his wife’s spectacular performance.” Jane’s face went bone-white. You see, Jane was married to Louis’s older brother. She was my sister-in-law. And my best friend. What a goddamn tangled web. “You wouldn’t dare!” Louis roared. I arched an eyebrow. “You dared to do it. Why wouldn’t I dare to talk about it?” Just then, Jane scrambled off the bed and threw herself at my feet, clutching my leg. “Susan, please, I’m begging you. Don’t tell Paul. I know I was wrong.” Looking down at the woman I grew up with, now disheveled and sobbing at my feet, I found the whole situation utterly absurd. “Jane, get up,” I said, patting her shoulder. “The floor is cold.” She looked up at me, a flicker of hope in her tear-filled eyes. I continued, my voice dripping with false concern, “You’ll make my husband worry if he sees you like this.” Then, I turned to leave. Louis grabbed my arm. “What are you doing? Are you trying to destroy this family?” My fists clenched, but my smile never wavered. The sheer audacity of that question. “I’m going to the doctor,” I chirped. “I need to get checked out. Find out why my husband can’t perform for me but turns into a stallion for someone else.” Louis’s face was a furious shade of red. “Susan, stop being so damn sarcastic!” “Don’t get so emotional,” I said, holding up my phone. “Want to see the pictures I took? The composition is great, the lighting is perfect. I bet they’d go viral if I posted them.” Jane lunged for the phone, but I sidestepped her easily. “Oh, and I’ll need a caption,” I mused aloud. “How about, ‘Sweet Moments with My Husband and My Best Friend’?” “You—!” Jane trembled with rage. Just then, my phone rang. Speak of the devil. It was Paul. I put him on speaker. “Hello, Paul.” “I’m downstairs. What’s the apartment number?” Paul’s deep voice resonated from the phone. Jane’s eyes widened in terror, and her body began to tremble uncontrollably. Footsteps echoed from the hallway, growing closer. I settled back into a chair, feeling strangely calm as I pulled out my phone and switched it to video record. The door swung open. Paul stepped inside, his face a cold, unreadable mask. His gaze swept the room, lingering for a fraction of a second on the disheveled Jane before landing squarely on his floundering younger brother. “Paul…” Louis breathed, his voice shaking like a leaf in a storm. Paul didn’t speak. He just turned to me. “Are you recording?” I was momentarily taken aback, then a small, sly smile touched my lips. I gave a demure nod. “I am.” Jane collapsed onto the floor in a heap, fat tears rolling down her cheeks. “Honey, it’s not what it looks like…” “Shut up.” The two words were spoken so quietly, yet they seemed to suck all the air out of the room. Jane’s throat constricted, and she fell silent. I sat there, watching the drama unfold, a strange sense of detachment washing over me. I was the one who had been betrayed. I should have been the one falling apart. Instead, I felt like an audience member at a particularly trashy play. “Both of you, get dressed,” Paul commanded, his voice like ice. I watched them scramble for their clothes, a hysterical laugh bubbling in my chest. Was this my life, or a scene from a bad soap opera? Once they were decent, Paul grabbed Louis and landed two hard, crackling punches, one after the other, right across his face. He followed it up with a vicious knee strike to Louis’s groin. I watched, grimly satisfied, as Louis crumpled, his face pale and his lips white. He’d pretended to be impotent for years; now, he might just get his wish. My brother-in-law, usually so calm and refined, was terrifying when he was angry. Only when Louis was on the floor did Paul speak again. “How long?” Silence. “I asked you, how long!” he roared, and even I flinched. Jane sobbed. “Th-three years…” Three years. The entire length of my marriage to Louis. So it had all been a lie. From the very beginning. The excuses, the evasions, the so-called health problems—all of it, a complete fabrication. My own voice, laced with bitter irony, cut through the tension. “So, it’s true love, then? You two were together even before we got married?” Louis kept his head down, refusing to look at me. “Look up! Look at us when we’re talking to you!” Paul bellowed. Louis slowly raised his head, his eyes swimming with fear. “Bro… I…” “Don’t call me that,” Paul snarled, his voice raw with fury. “I don’t have a scumbag for a brother.” Louis’s face turned ashen. Jane dropped to her knees again. “Honey, I’m so sorry… I truly know I was wrong…” I couldn’t resist twisting the knife. “Do you know you were wrong, or are you just scared you got caught?” If I hadn’t found out, who knows how long they would have kept playing us for fools. I stood up and faced Paul. “I’ve got all the evidence I need. Let’s go. This place is filthy.” Paul nodded and turned to leave. “Wait! Don’t go!” Louis pleaded, scrambling to his knees. I glanced back, my smile sickeningly sweet. “Why should we stay? To watch an encore performance?” I added, “Besides, isn’t this what you wanted? To be with my sister-in-law? We’re just making it official.” “No! Honey, we can’t get a divorce!” Jane shrieked. Paul was far more successful than Louis, and he’d never been anything but generous with her. The thought of losing that lifestyle was clearly more terrifying than losing his love. It seemed money still trumped passion in her book. “You’re always so busy with work… I was just lonely, I made a mistake! Forgive me this one time, I’ll cut him off completely, I swear!” she pleaded, her face a mess of tears. Paul didn’t even spare her a glance. “Impossible.” 2 “You shameless bitch! Get out here!” The shriek from the front desk echoed through the office first thing in the morning. I was sipping my coffee, and I nearly spit it out when my colleague, Kate, burst in to tell me Jane’s mother was raising hell in the lobby. The plot, it seemed, was thickening with cheap drama. “Susan Miller, you homewrecking fox! You seduce my son-in-law, you destroy my daughter’s family! Have you no shame?” Jane’s mother had a powerful set of lungs, and she was putting on quite the show for the gathering crowd. Kate whispered frantically, “Susan, Jane’s mom is downstairs making a scene, telling everyone you seduced her son-in-law…” I slowly set down my mug. “Oh? Well, I’d better go see this.” I strolled down to the lobby to find her in mid-performance, dabbing at her eyes while loudly recounting my supposed sins. “Everyone, you be the judge! This woman, she was jealous that my daughter married better than her, so she had to stick her nose in, deliberately ruining my daughter’s happy home!” I leaned against the reception desk, a faint smile on my face as I watched the spectacle. The young receptionist saw me and looked immensely relieved. “Mrs. Evans, Ms. Miller is here.” Jane’s mother spun around, and seeing my relaxed demeanor only fueled her rage. “Well, well! Look who dares to show her face!” “Who else would it be?” I arched an eyebrow. “Should I be hiding in a dark room just because someone else did something shameful?” Her face flushed with anger. “Don’t you dare twist the truth! My daughter and her husband were perfectly happy until you came along and destroyed everything!” I cut straight to the point. “I’m sorry, which son-in-law are we talking about? The older one, or the younger one?” She blinked, confused. “What older or younger one?” “Oh, you don’t know?” I feigned surprise. “Let me clear things up for you. Your daughter, Jane, is married to Paul Cole, your older son-in-law. But she’s been sleeping with Louis Cole, your younger son-in-law. So, I’m just a little confused. Which husband’s happiness are we discussing?” A collective gasp went through the crowd of onlookers. The color drained from Mrs. Evans’s face. “You… you’re lying!” I pulled out my phone. “Would you like to see the video? I have a recording of your daughter’s… stellar performance with the younger Mr. Cole.” Panic flashed in her eyes. “You… don’t you dare!” “If you really care about your daughter,” I said, my voice dropping to a serious tone, “you’ll go home and convince her to stop making a fool of herself. The divorce papers have already been filed. What’s the point of coming here to cause a scene?” “My daughter can’t get a divorce!” she insisted. I laughed. “Why not? Are you worried about losing the older son-in-law’s money, or do you just think the younger one isn’t good enough?” She stomped her foot in frustration, but realizing she had lost this battle, she turned and stormed out, defeated. My colleagues stared at me with newfound respect. Kate sidled up to me. “Susan, that was epic!” I just smiled. “Epic? We’re just getting started.” Back in my office, I sent a quick text to Paul. Your former mother-in-law just paid a visit to my office. He replied almost instantly: Do you need me to handle it? No need. Already handled. Good work. I stared at the screen, a wry smile on my face. Life, it turned out, was full of surprises.

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When my wife refused a client’s drink, I smashed a bottle over her head—revenge for my past life. Last time, I drank myself unconscious to save her face. Woke up accused of abusing our daughter Nellie until she jumped off the roof. The suicide note claimed “years of abuse”—a lie. I adored her. But the security footage showed me beating her. Evelyn exposed me as a monster. My mother screamed “You animal!” as my father died of shock. In prison, inmates killed me. Then I woke up—back to Evelyn begging me to drink for her. This time, I’ll make her pay. … “Honey, my stomach is killing me. Can you please take this one for me?” Evelyn’s eyes were wide with a practiced innocence, a performance that was already starting to irritate our client, the overbearing Mr. Cross. “Come on, Ms. Lowell, bringing in a substitute?” he scoffed. “That’s not how you show commitment.” “We’re husband and wife, a team. It’s the same whether he drinks or I do, right, honey?” Those were the exact same words she used last time. And just like last time, Mr. Cross had used her plea as an excuse to pour drink after drink down my throat, insisting a substitute had to drink double. He’d left me completely obliterated. That was how they set the stage for framing me. But I was a good drunk. When I drank too much, I just passed out. I never got violent. And Nellie… she was my only child. I treasured her. The thought of hurting her was impossible. Yet, in my last life, as public outrage reached a fever pitch, Evelyn had tearfully revealed a body covered in bruises, accusing me of being a violent monster who had been secretly torturing her and our daughter for years. She produced the security footage, and that’s what sealed my fate. Remembering the agony of being wrongly condemned, of dying alone and hated, I didn’t hesitate. I snatched a wine bottle from the table and brought it down hard on Evelyn’s head. “You useless thing,” I snarled, my voice dripping with ice. “Mr. Cross is honoring you with his time. Stop playing the victim.” “Ah!” The bottle shattered, the sound echoing in the stunned silence of the room. Red wine and blood streamed down her face. “Whoa, hey, calm down, man! If she doesn’t want to drink, she doesn’t have to. No need to get violent!” I ignored Mr. Cross’s attempts to intervene. Grabbing another bottle, and then another, I relentlessly smashed them against Evelyn, who was now crumpled on the floor, clutching her bleeding head. This time, I’d strike first. Let’s see how she could frame me now. After Evelyn was rushed to the hospital, I walked straight into the nearest police station and turned myself in. With the surveillance footage from the restaurant and a dozen eyewitnesses, including Mr. Cross, they detained me on the spot. Later, my mother came to see me in the holding cell. Her face was etched with worry. “Leo, what happened? You and Evelyn have always been so happy. Why would you attack her like that? Did something happen?” she asked, her voice trembling. “If she did something to wrong you, I’ll support you in a divorce, but you can’t just… beat her, son.” I looked at her, at the silver strands in her hair, and finally asked the question that had haunted me from my last life. “Mom, do you believe me?” “Of course, I do! You’re my only son. I will always believe you!” A wave of relief washed over me. That was the answer I needed. Last time, it was only after seeing the “evidence” and hearing Evelyn’s lies that she had disowned me. This time, if I could gather enough proof, my mother would stand by my side. With that thought, I gripped her hand, my voice tight with urgency. “Is Nellie okay?” My mom looked puzzled. “Nellie? She’s at home, fast asleep. Why are you so worried about her all of a sudden?” I pleaded with her, my voice low and serious. “Please, Mom. You have to watch her. Don’t let anything happen to her. And please, don’t tell Dad about this.” She nodded, though her confusion remained. “Silly boy, of course I’ll take good care of Nellie. You don’t have to tell me that.” She sighed. “And your father… his heart can’t take this kind of stress. I told him Nellie missed me and I was coming to stay the night. He doesn’t know a thing.” I felt a profound sense of peace. After a few more instructions, I urged her to hurry back home to be with my daughter. As she left, the image of Nellie’s broken body from my last life flashed in my mind, a pain so sharp it stole my breath. How could a child so cherished, so protected, end up covered in wounds and driven to suicide? Was Evelyn the one who had hurt her, who had coerced her? This time, I would find out the truth. No matter the cost. … At four in the morning, Evelyn showed up at the station to post my bail. I was told she had come straight here the moment she was lucid. “Leo, I was wrong yesterday,” she began, her voice soft and hoarse. Her head and arms were wrapped in gauze, little spots of blood seeping through the white fabric. Her eyes were red-rimmed as if she’d been crying for hours. “I’ve been so focused on work lately, I haven’t made time for you and Nellie. It’s only natural you’d have some resentment to let out. I’ve already canceled that deal. From now on, I’ll spend more time with you and Nellie, okay?” She sounded so sincere, so broken, as if she was the one who had truly made a mistake. If I hadn’t lived through the hell of her betrayal, I might have actually believed her. Last time, she had deliberately covered herself in injuries and claimed I was the monster responsible. If I let her bail me out now, I knew I’d be walking right back into her trap, branded once again as a violent, abusive husband. I cut her off, my voice cold and flat. “No, thank you. What I did was wrong. I broke the law, and I’ll accept the punishment. You don’t need to bail me out.” Seeing her sweet words had no effect, a flicker of rage crossed her face before being quickly suppressed. She tried every angle, but I stood firm, insisting on staying in my cell. Eventually, my mother arrived and persuaded her to go home and rest. Before they left, Mom assured me that Nellie had slept soundly through the night and had already left for school that morning. In my past life, Nellie never went to school that day. That was the morning she jumped from the rooftop. My heart soared. I had done it. I had changed the timeline. My daughter was safe. Exhausted after a sleepless day and night, I finally collapsed onto the thin cot and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. I was woken at three in the afternoon by a familiar, cheerful voice. “Daddy, I came to see you!” Nellie. My daughter, who had died so tragically in my last life, was standing right in front of me, vibrant and alive. I was so overwhelmed with emotion that I almost burst into tears. “Daddy, why are you crying?” she asked, her little face scrunched in concern. “Mommy said you were protecting her from bad guys, and that’s why the police have to keep you here for a little while.” Her voice swelled with pride. “You’re a hero, Daddy. Heroes don’t cry!” Her words caught me off guard. Behind her, Evelyn gave me a subtle, knowing look. “Leo,” Evelyn said softly, stepping forward. “Nellie has been asking for you all day. She was starting to think you were mad at her since you weren’t there to take her to school.” My mom chimed in, smiling. “See, Nellie? I told you what Grandma and Mommy said was true.” Nellie nodded, her small hands gripping the iron bars of my cell. “Daddy, I made you a little red flower because you’re a big hero!” A lump formed in my throat. I reached through the bars and took her small hand in mine. As I looked at her innocent, lovely face, the horrific image of her bruised and broken body from my last life surged back. So many of those wounds were old scars, the kind that came from years of beatings. On impulse, I yanked up her sleeve. Her arm was smooth, pale, and perfect. There were no crisscrossing whip marks, no old, faded lines. So, what went wrong in my past life? It was impossible for a child to suddenly develop years’ worth of old scars overnight. My mind racing, I turned her around and lifted the back of her shirt. Again, her skin was flawless, not a single mark. My expression must have been terrifying because Nellie shrank back. “Daddy, what’s wrong?” “Nellie,” I asked, my voice strained, “has anyone been bullying you lately?” She hesitated for a second. “No. Why?” “Did… did Mommy hit you? Don’t be afraid, Nellie. We’re in a police station. You can tell the truth. The officers here will protect you.” She shook her head again, more firmly this time. “Mommy loves me. She would never, ever hit me.” Evelyn covered her face with her hands and began to sob. “Leo… how could you? Did you really think I would ever hurt our daughter? If I was that kind of person, why would I have told her you were a hero? I was just trying to protect her from hating you!” My mom sighed, shaking her head in disappointment. “Son, that’s not fair. We’ve all seen what a wonderful mother Evelyn has been all these years. You shouldn’t accuse her like that.” Just then, a guard came by to say that visiting hours were over. Evelyn scooped Nellie into her arms and left, still crying. My mom lingered for a moment, her voice low with frustration. “Leo, you went too far this time. Evelyn is a good wife. You had no right to hurt her like that based on some wild suspicion.” As I watched them walk away, a fog of confusion settled over me. Could it be? Was my last life, with all its horror, really just a terrible nightmare? My hand was damp with sweat, clutching the little red paper flower Nellie had given me. I glanced down at it. And my blood ran cold. My past life wasn’t a dream. It was real. … That night, staring at the blank wall of my cell, I replayed every single detail of my previous life. Ever since I’d woken up in this new reality, I’d been tormented by the same questions. Why would the daughter I adored write a suicide note condemning me? How did I wake up one morning transformed from a loving father into a reviled monster, without having done a thing? And why would Evelyn, the woman who had always seemed to love me, suddenly turn on me, revealing a body full of wounds and branding me a sadist? The questions were a maze with no exit, each one a dead end that left my head pounding. I desperately sifted through my memories, searching for any clue, any detail I might have missed. It wasn’t until I truly looked at the little red flower from Nellie that the fog finally began to lift. I knew then that I couldn’t just wait for things to happen. I had to take control. At dawn, I had an officer call Evelyn. I told her I had come to my senses and wanted to get out. I apologized, telling her I never should have hit her that night. Through her sobs, Evelyn said she forgave me. She immediately signed the papers, dropping the charges, and I was released. I went back to my old routine, driving Nellie to and from school. The moment she disappeared through the school gates, I made a call to a private investigator. He was fast. In less than half a day, he had answers to all my questions. Staring at the report on my phone, my hands clenched so tightly I thought the screen would shatter. The truth was even more twisted than I could have imagined. There was a secret buried so deep I never would have found it on my own. “I have another job for you,” I said into the phone, my voice low and grim. “I need it done fast. And no one can know.” Two days later, it was Nellie’s birthday. Evelyn, true to her word, had cancelled all her work and thrown a lavish party in our backyard. Despite the summer heat, she wore a wide-brimmed hat and a long-sleeved dress, graciously accepting praise from our guests. Nellie, dressed like a little princess, beamed as she thanked everyone for her gifts. Finally, she took my hand, her smile radiant. “Thank you, Daddy, for always spoiling me. But I have a gift for you, too.” She started pulling me towards the house, towards the stairs. She playfully shooed everyone else away, planting her hands on her hips and declaring, “This is a special secret, just for my daddy!” The guests chuckled at her adorable antics. I smiled, a strange calm settling over me, and let her lead me up to the rooftop. “Okay, Daddy, close your eyes and count to ten. No peeking!” She tied a black blindfold over my eyes, and I heard her small voice begin the countdown. “…three, two, one.” As she said the last word, a sickening thud echoed from the yard below. I tore off the blindfold. The space on the rooftop where my daughter had just been standing was empty. Screams erupted from the party below. I rushed downstairs. There, on the manicured lawn, lay my daughter, facedown, broken. Her death was just as gruesome as it had been in my last life. And on the rooftop, once again, was a suicide note. The words were the same. A heart-wrenching letter from a daughter who called her father a monster. She couldn’t take the constant beatings, she wrote. She was terrified of being alone with me. She didn’t want to live anymore. Evelyn threw herself onto the bloody, mangled body, her wails tearing through the air, a perfect echo of the last time. “Leo! I thought… I thought you only hurt me! I thought you still loved our daughter! I never imagined you were this much of a monster!” With a dramatic flourish, she ripped off her hat and tore the sleeves from her dress, revealing a head and arms covered in ugly, healing wounds. “You were all asking why I was so covered up! It’s because of this! Because of the injuries he gave me!” A collective gasp went through the crowd. Sobbing, Evelyn launched into her story, painting me as a depraved sadist who had tormented her for years. When she told them how I’d smashed bottles over her head in front of Mr. Cross, putting her in the hospital, the mood turned venomous. Mr. Cross himself stepped out of the crowd, his face a mask of fury. He slammed his glass down. “Ms. Lowell begged us to keep quiet to protect you, but I see now we were protecting a demon!” he roared. “We all saw it! He beat her until she was bleeding on the floor!” “And he didn’t just beat his wife,” someone else shouted. “He beat his daughter, too!” The accusations flew, a storm of hatred directed at me. Evelyn’s grief reached a crescendo. “Nellie, my baby! It’s my fault! My silence is what killed you!” My mother rushed forward and grabbed my arm, her own voice shaking. “Leo, I don’t believe it! You were always such a kind boy! Tell them you didn’t do these things! Tell them!” I stared back at her, my face a blank mask. I pulled my arm from her grasp. “I did it,” I said, my voice calm and clear. The world exploded. Someone called the police. Someone else pulled out their phone and started a live stream. “Breaking news! Leo Lowell, heir to the Lowell Corporation, has just confessed to years of abuse against his wife and daughter! His daughter jumped to her death moments ago after leaving a suicide note!” The comments on the live stream flooded in. [HOLY SHIT. I thought he was just some useless husband riding his wife’s coattails. Turns out he’s a murderous psychopath!] [His wife is a saint! She built up his company, gave him a child, and this is how he repays her? He deserves to rot!] [I bet she didn’t jump. I bet he pushed her! They need to investigate!] [Agree! He was alone with her on the roof, right? He totally pushed her!] My mother screamed at them, threatening to sue them for slander. But Evelyn, slowly rising from her daughter’s body, cut through the noise. “Our rooftop has security cameras,” she announced, her voice trembling but firm. “And… and I put a camera on Nellie.” She paused, taking a shaky breath. “Three years ago, I started noticing that every time I came back from a business trip, Nellie would have new bruises. When I asked her, she’d just say she fell while riding her horse. I was terrified he was doing to her what he did to me. So I finally found the courage to confront him.” Her voice cracked. “While he was asleep, I held a knife to his throat. I told him, ‘If you need to hit someone, hit me. But if you ever touch our daughter again, I will kill you in your sleep.’ He was scared. He promised he’d never hurt her again. I actually believed him.” Tears streamed down her face. “But I was a fool. He just found other ways to hurt her… ways I couldn’t see.” She turned to the large projection screen set up for the party and connected her phone. The video that filled the screen was horrifying. It showed me, in my car, my face contorted in a vicious snarl as I jabbed a thin needle into Nellie’s arm again and again. My daughter’s small voice, choked with tears, pleaded, “Daddy, it hurts so much… please, please stop…” “That bastard!” someone in the crowd yelled, hurling a rock that struck my forehead, drawing blood. Evelyn changed the video. Now it was the rooftop security footage. It showed Nellie blindfolding me. She counted down to one. Then, her eyes filled with tears, she looked towards the camera and spoke, her voice clear and chilling. “Daddy, my gift to you is my life… in exchange for your arrest.” With that, she dropped the suicide note and, without a backward glance, stepped off the edge. That was the final blow for my mother. She could no longer defend me. “You monster!” she shrieked, throwing her own phone at my face. It hit my nose with a sickening crunch, and warmth flooded down my lips. “I wish I’d never given birth to you!” She scrambled over to Nellie’s body, cradling it in her arms. “Nellie, my sweet granddaughter… Grandma’s monster is the one who did this to you!” Evelyn’s voice rose in a final, gut-wrenching scream of accusation. “When you were in that cell, you apologized! I thought you were sorry! I was stupid enough to feel pity and bail you out! And you used that freedom to drive my daughter to her death! If you had a problem, you should have taken it out on me! WHY DID YOU HAVE TO KILL MY DAUGHTER?” Amidst the chaos, a cruel smile spread across my face. “She jumped herself. How is that my fault?” That single sentence ignited the crowd. “You inhuman beast! You don’t deserve to be a father! You deserve the death penalty!” A hail of bottles and stones rained down on me. People spat at me. I was bruised, bleeding, but I just laughed louder. Because the only way for the truth to be seen was to make the spectacle as big as possible. “Everyone, stop! The person who killed Nellie Lowell is not him!” The voice cut through the roar of the mob. I knew that voice. The person I was waiting for had finally arrived. The show was about to begin.

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1 On my eighteenth birthday, my stepbrother coaxed me into crossing a line we could never uncross. He whispered promises against my skin, swore that he would take responsibility, that he would love me for a lifetime. In a haze of pain and adoration, I gave him everything. I foolishly thought I had finally caught happiness in my hands. Then came the morning after. My nude photos were plastered across every group chat in our prep school. They called me the “Fifty-Dollar Fix.” A slut. A charity case with loose legs. I went manic. I hunted Hayes down, screaming, needing to know why. He just watched me unravel. He stood there with the detached curiosity of a scientist observing an insect, his expression curdled with disgust. “Because of you, Lily is dead,” he said, his voice flat. “This is your penance.” Lily was his biological sister. And I was the reason she was in the ground. 2 The photos spread like a virus. By second period, everyone had seen them. I found Hayes in the student lounge. I was hyperventilating, my mind a fractured kaleidoscope of panic and confusion. “Hayes, please,” I choked out. “Tell me this is a mistake. Tell me…” “Don’t say my name,” he cut in. The warmth from last night—the heat of his body, the tenderness—was gone, replaced by a glacial hatred. “You don’t deserve to speak it.” He stepped closer, looming over me. “If it wasn’t for you—if your mother hadn’t clawed her way into my father’s house—Lily would still be here. Every time I look at you, I see the life she didn’t get to live. Why do you get to breathe when she’s rotting in a box?” He grabbed my chin, his fingers digging into my jaw with bruising force, forcing me to look at him. “You’re the one who should be dead, Raine.” I stared into his eyes—eyes that, just hours ago, had looked at me with what I thought was love. I remembered his heavy breathing, the way he’d buried his face in my neck and whispered, Raine, I love you. I’ve got you. Was it all a lie? A performance? Tears spilled over, hot and humiliating, landing on his cold hand. He flinched, his grip loosening just a fraction. “Hayes…” I whispered, grabbing the hem of his cashmere sweater like a lifeline. “Did you ever love me? Even a little?” The silence that followed was suffocating. He studied me, dissecting my misery. “No,” he finally said. “Every second I touched you, I felt sick.” The air left my lungs. It was a long con. A meticulously crafted execution. I was the only one who had fallen. “I see,” I managed to say, my voice breaking. “I’m sorry.” He released me abruptly. I collapsed onto the floor, my legs giving out. “Stop acting like a victim, Raine,” he sneered, turning his back on me. “Your real punishment hasn’t even started yet.” He walked away fast, almost as if he were running. I wiped my face, sitting alone in the middle of the hallway. Do you hate me that much, Hayes? I owed Lily a life. If I gave him mine, would that finally balance the ledger? 3 I was seven when I first walked into the Ashcroft estate. I trailed behind my mother, terrified to scuff the marble floors. It looked like a museum, not a home. “Hah.” I looked up to the mezzanine. A boy stood there, looking like a dark prince in a black turtleneck. He was beautiful and terrifying. “So this is the mistress and her baggage,” he said, his voice dripping with aristocratic disdain. “Dad really scraped the bottom of the barrel.” My mother went pale. I just stared at my shoes, wishing my hair was long enough to hide my face. “Hayes! Don’t be mean!” A girl in a velvet dress burst out from behind him, beaming like a little sun. “I’m Lily,” she chirped, running down the stairs. “That’s my brother, Hayes. He’s grumpy. What’s your name?” I tugged at my fraying sweater. “Raine,” I whispered. She grabbed my hand and dragged me up to the boy. “Hayes, say hi to Raine. Be nice.” Hayes looked at his sister with a softness that transformed his entire face. He sighed, defeated by her joy, and extended a hand to me. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I shouldn’t have said that.” “It’s okay,” I said. His palm was warm. It made my heart race. With Lily as the bridge, the ice between us melted. Hayes wasn’t just cold; he was protective, intense, and secretly kind. He took us to the coast in the summers. He planted camellias in the garden because I said I liked them. On my birthdays, he arranged fireworks over the bay. I fell in love with him in slow motion, over a decade of stolen glances. Lily knew. She was my biggest cheerleader. “He loves you too, Raine,” she’d whispered, winking. “I’m going to set the stage. You just get dressed up. We’re going to surprise him.” She skipped out the door to buy roses for my confession. She never came back. The police call came two hours later. They found her in an alley three blocks away. She had been assaulted, brutalized, and discarded. Red rose petals were scattered over her body like blood. At the funeral, Hayes didn’t cry. He just vibrated with rage. When he finally looked at me, something in him had died. “Why was she alone?” he asked. “Why was she buying roses?” “Because I wanted them,” I sobbed, falling apart. “It’s my fault. I’m so sorry, Hayes.” He stared at me for a long time. Then he asked the question that would haunt us both forever. “Why wasn’t it you?” 4 The school bulletin boards were covered in screenshots. My naked body, printed on glossy paper. People whispered as I walked by. Teachers looked at me with that pitying disappointment that hurts worse than anger. The scholarship kid showed her true colors, their eyes said. I walked to my locker like a zombie. If this humiliation was the tax I had to pay for Lily’s death, I would pay it. My locker was vandalized in red marker: Slut. Trash. Try-hard. When I opened it, the smell hit me first. Garbage. Used condoms. Before I could react, a dead, bloody rat fell out, landing in my hair. I screamed, stumbling back and falling hard. Laughter erupted around me. “Look at her,” someone jeered. “God, she’s pathetic.” “I heard fifty bucks gets you the full tour,” Trent, the captain of the lacrosse team, sneered. He walked up to me, crouched down, and shoved a hundred-dollar bill down my shirt. “Here’s a hundo. Double time tonight?” Rage, hot and blinding, surged through me. I slapped him. Hard. The hallway went silent. Trent’s face twisted. He shoved me backward, and my head cracked against the corner of a trophy case. Warm blood trickled down my neck. “You ungrateful bitch,” he spat. He grabbed me by the hair and dragged me toward the boys’ bathroom. He ripped my shirt. I closed my eyes, waiting for the end. “Hayes?” Trent’s voice wavered. “What are you doing here?” I opened my eyes. Hayes was standing there, watching. He looked bored. “Disgusting,” he said. The word pierced me deeper than any knife. “Carry on,” Hayes said, waving a hand dismissively. He turned to leave. “Hayes!” I screamed, crawling toward him, grabbing his ankle. “Please. Help me. Take me with you.” He looked down at me, his eyes devoid of humanity. “I bet Lily wanted someone to take her away, too,” he said softly. “This is what you owe her, Raine. Feel what she felt.” He kicked his leg free and walked away. I collapsed on the dirty tile floor, sobbing until my chest felt like it would cave in. Even Trent stopped, looking unnerved by the sheer depth of my brokenness. I hallucinated Lily holding my hand, Hayes smiling at us. But it was just smoke.

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The robotics competition reached its climax as my daughter Zoe prepared to accept the grand prize. Suddenly, a lavishly dressed woman stood. “This school has a rule,” she declared arrogantly. “A five-million-dollar donation earns ten extra points. This card has five million—the trophy now belongs to my son!” The auditorium fell silent. After a stunned pause, the headmaster nodded. Zoe trembled onstage. “But…I’m the real winner!” Her rival, Caden, sneered. “Try all you want, Zoe Locke. My dad’s loaded. The research lab internship? Mine now.” Tears filled Zoe’s eyes. I took her hand and smiled at the smug duo. “Five million on that card?” I asked pleasantly. “Shall we verify it?” Renee Kauffman nodded proudly. “Of course! My husband has endless money.” My smile deepened. That card? A supplementary on my account—the allowance for my kept husband. 1 Renee shot me a dismissive glance and handed the card to the school’s administrator with a flourish. Someone in the crowd gasped. “Is that… an Obsidian Black Card? You only get one of those with a nine-figure net worth verification!” “Oh my god, Caden’s family must be top-tier elite!” Renee basked in the chorus of awe, her eyes sweeping over the crowd with undisguised superiority. Then, her gaze, a mixture of pity and scorn, landed on Zoe. “Little girl, if you want to blame someone, blame your parents for not being able to cough up five million dollars. No matter how hard you commoners work, you’re just stepping stones for us.” Zoe’s face flushed a deep red. “That’s not fair!” she cried out. “I won first place!” She had loved artificial intelligence her whole life. She’d spent three years preparing for this competition, and the internship was her absolute dream. Murmurs rippled through the parents in the audience. “That’s just cruel to the child,” someone whispered. “But that’s how it works with the super-rich, especially at a private international school like this. Money is power. There’s no such thing as ‘fair’ when you’re up against that kind of privilege. It’s a lesson she has to learn.” Even the headmaster shook his head at Zoe. “Rules are rules, my dear.” Caden’s grin widened into a triumphant sneer. “See? I told you, Zoe, you could never beat me. So what if you’re talented? All your hard work is worthless in front of my family’s money!” He turned to his mother. “Mom, can I go get my prize now?” Renee shot me a victorious look. “Of course, darling.” Zoe’s face crumpled, her eyes shining with unshed tears as she muttered defiantly, over and over, “I won first place… I won first place…” My heart ached for her, but I also felt a dark amusement. I leaned in and whispered something in her ear. Her eyes widened in shock. “Mom, are you serious?” I gave her a small nod. “Just watch.” Just as Caden was strutting toward the stage, the administrator hurried back, his face pale. “Mrs. Kauffman,” he stammered. “This card… it’s been locked. It’s unusable!” Renee’s brow furrowed. “What? That’s impossible!” she snapped. “You provincials probably don’t know how to use it!” The administrator, looking helpless, simply held the card reader out to her. She swiped it herself. A crisp, mechanical female voice echoed through the silent auditorium: “Your card has been declined.” “How can that be?” Renee stumbled back a step, her face a mask of disbelief. A few parents in the crowd couldn’t hold back their snickers. “Mrs. Kauffman, did you… find that card on the street?” “If you don’t have the five million, why put on the big show? Aren’t you embarrassed?” Renee’s face was a mottled mess of anger and humiliation. She snatched the card and swiped it again. And again. “Your card has been declined!” “Your card has been declined!” The whispers grew into open laughter and jeers. Caden started to panic. “Mom, what’s going on? I want my prize!” I watched Renee’s meltdown for a moment longer before stepping forward. “Well,” I said with a serene smile, “since it appears Mrs. Kauffman can’t produce the five million, I suppose the first-place prize still belongs to my daughter.” The storm clouds on Zoe’s face instantly cleared. She shot me a quick wink and started to walk toward the awards table. “Wait!” Renee’s voice was sharp. “There might be a problem with the card, but that doesn’t mean I can’t get the money. That prize belongs to my son, and that’s final.” Her eyes, now dark and venomous, were fixed on me. She pulled out her phone and made a call. A moment later, I heard the familiar voice of my husband, Lex, on the other end. 2 After she hung up, Renee’s arrogance returned in full force. “Don’t worry, sweetie,” she said, beaming at her son. “No one is taking this prize from you today. It’s yours!” She shot me a look of pure defiance. I let out a cold, quiet laugh. Just now, Renee and Lex had put on a sickeningly sweet display of affection over the phone, their lovey-dovey talk loud enough for everyone to hear. A moment later, my own phone rang. It was Lex. He didn’t even say hello, just barked orders at me. “Nina, what the hell is wrong with the card I gave you? Call the bank and unlock it right now. And while you’re at it, raise the limit to fifty million!” My voice, in contrast, was perfectly calm. “What do you need that much money for?” “For business, for entertaining clients! Stop asking stupid questions and just do it!” I lowered my gaze, hiding the icy storm gathering in my eyes. I have been the silent, unseen power behind the Stellar Group for over a decade. Anyone who truly knows me knows that my current calm is a signal—a sign that someone was about to face utter ruin. How utterly pathetic. A kept husband, a man living off my family’s name, daring to keep a mistress under my nose and order me around. It seemed my kindness had allowed him to forget who was master and who was the pet. When I didn’t respond immediately, Lex sent a few angry voice messages and then went silent. It was Renee who made the next move. She held up her phone, displaying her banking app for all to see. The balance: a perfect $5,000,000.00. She wore a prim, polite smile, but her eyes were blazing with smug triumph. “There, Headmaster. Satisfied? As I said, five million is nothing to a family like ours. Fifty million would be just a drop in the bucket. Not like those people who live off a fixed salary, who have to pinch pennies just to scrape together a few thousand.” She threw a pointed look in my direction, then turned to Zoe with a look of feigned sympathy. “Little girl, better luck in the next life. Maybe you’ll be born into the right family, and you won’t have to watch someone snatch away everything you’ve worked so hard for.” Zoe just smiled sweetly at Renee. “Auntie, what’s mine, no one can take away!” I stepped forward, my own smile unwavering. “That’s right. What belongs to my daughter, no one can take.” “It’s only five million, after all.” The well-meaning headmaster hurried over to me. “Mrs. Locke, please,” he whispered urgently. “Five million is no small sum. To them, it’s the price of a handbag, but for a normal family, it’s a fortune. This internship is a great opportunity, but don’t bankrupt yourself and your husband over it.” Other parents chimed in, urging me not to act on pride. The sycophants, however, took the opportunity to sneer. “How much could she possibly make in a year? Trying to play big shot like the truly wealthy. She’s going to lose her house over this!” “Some people just have to put on a show, even when they’re completely out of their league!” It was my own fault, I suppose. I’d always taught Zoe the importance of being low-key. As far as anyone here knew, we were a typical working-class family who had gotten into this elite school on the back of Zoe’s academic merit alone. I glanced around at the jeering sycophants, a mental Rolodex of their employers and business connections instantly forming in my mind. Oh yes, I had plans for them. I turned back to the headmaster with a polite smile. “I’ll do as Mrs. Kauffman did. I’ll wire the money directly to the school’s account.” Ding! A notification sound echoed from the headmaster’s phone. “Five million dollars has been received!” The area fell silent for a beat, and then someone shouted, “Holy hell! Zoe’s mom actually did it! She sent five million dollars!” Renee’s face darkened. She furiously tapped at her own phone. A second later, another mechanical voice rang out. Ding! “Ten million dollars has been received!” The crowd erupted. Jaws dropped. “Ten million?! Is she insane?” “You don’t get it! This is what real power looks like! Mrs. Kauffman is the real deal, you have to respect that!” After three massive donations in as many minutes, the headmaster was visibly sweating. Caden puffed out his chest. “My mom’s the best!” Renee preened under the renewed wave of praise, stroking her son’s hair. “Don’t you worry, my love. Your father said that whatever you want, he’ll support you, no matter the cost. What’s ten million dollars to us?!” Indeed, what was ten million dollars? A kept husband using my money to prop up his mistress and bully my daughter. The sheer, unadulterated nerve. I was suddenly curious. Just how far would Lex go for this woman and her child? And how much money had he managed to siphon off behind my back? Under Renee’s triumphant gaze, I spoke, my voice calm and even. “Twenty million.” 3 Every eye in the room swiveled to me, wide with disbelief. “Has Zoe Locke’s mom lost her mind? Where would she get twenty million dollars?!” Renee gritted her teeth. “Talk is cheap…” Before she could finish her sentence, the now-familiar sound cut through the air. Ding! “Twenty million dollars has been received!” My smile widened. “I don’t mind contributing to a worthy educational cause. Do you want to keep going? I can do this all day.” “Oh my god, the Locke family is not what they seem! Who knew!” The headmaster wiped his brow again, a look of ecstatic glee breaking through his professional demeanor. He turned to Renee. “Mrs. Kauffman, do you wish to raise your donation?” The light in Renee’s eyes faded, replaced by a cold, calculating darkness. She whipped out her phone and called Lex again. A few moments later, the triumphant smirk was back. She deliberately unfolded her high-end foldable phone, making sure everyone got a good look at her lock screen. Someone with sharp eyes shouted, “That man on her screen… that’s Lex Astor! The CEO of the Stellar Group! My God, he’s Caden’s father!” “Look, it’s a family picture of the three of them! I can’t believe it! The man famous for being a brilliant, ruthless businessman can look so sweet and happy.” “Well, that’s it for Zoe Locke. No matter how much money her mom has, no one in this city is more powerful than the Stellar Group!” One of the kinder parents pulled me aside again, her voice urgent. “Mrs. Locke, stop. Please, just let it go. Everyone in this city knows you don’t cross the Stellar Group. If you make an enemy of them, you’ll be ruined. You’ll lose everything!” Renee strode towards me, her chin held high. “I was trying to be discreet,” she said, her voice dripping with condescension. “But some people are just blind. Now you see, don’t you? You might have a few dirty dollars, but to a truly elite family like ours, you are nothing.” I raised an eyebrow. “So, you’re saying your husband is Lex Astor, the CEO of the Stellar Group?” “Mom, but that’s…” Zoe started to blurt out, but I gently squeezed her hand and gave her a subtle wink. She understood immediately and fell silent. Renee, too absorbed in the fawning admiration of the crowd, didn’t notice our exchange. She nodded at me haughtily. “Now you’re scared. As you should be.” She then gave me a malicious smile. “You’ve offended me today. But I’m a magnanimous person. If you and your daughter get on your knees right now, in front of everyone, and bow to me and my son three times, I’ll tell my husband to let this go.” “Otherwise,” she purred, “my husband will bankrupt your family.” “And you, little girl,” she said, turning to Zoe, “you can forget about robotics competitions. You won’t even be able to afford to go to school!” “You are the most shameless person I’ve ever met!” Zoe snapped, and then she spat right in Renee’s face. Caden, seeing this, lunged at Zoe. “You little bitch! I’ll kill you for spitting on my mom!” My expression turned to ice. In a flash, I moved between them and shoved Caden hard. He tumbled to the ground with a shriek. “Mom! My knee! It’s bleeding, it hurts so bad!” Renee shot me a look of pure hatred. Seeing the bloody gash on Caden’s knee, her eyes became terrifying. “This isn’t over,” she snarled. “My husband is on his way. The Stellar Group’s legal team is no joke. You and your daughter will spend the rest of your lives in prison!” I raised an eyebrow. Well, that saved me the trouble of getting Lex here myself. My executive assistant and my top legal counsel were already en route with divorce papers and Lex’s termination letter. Today was the day this cheating scum would meet his end. The sycophants, hearing that Lex himself was coming, rushed to Caden’s side, fussing over him and shooting me venomous looks. Their taunts grew viler by the second. “Peasants never learn. You can’t handle the wrath of a man like Mr. Astor! Get ready to lose everything!” “You can quit school now, Zoe. Go join your mother picking through trash cans!” “Trash cans? Don’t be silly. Spreading her legs for men is a much faster way to make money! Hahaha!” Just then, a black Porsche Cayenne sped to a halt at the school gate. “That’s a Stellar Group executive car!” someone yelled. “Mr. Astor is such a good husband and father! He got here so fast! The Locke woman and her daughter are finished!” The crowd’s hostility was a palpable thing, their eyes like vultures circling. Renee’s face was twisted in a mask of manic, victorious glee. “You bitch!” she hissed at me. “My husband is here! Your time is up!”

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