Category: English

My biggest problem is that I sleep too well. So well, in fact, that I can be thrown into a survival horror game and still be dead asleep in four seconds flat. A blood-drenched little girl stood at the foot of my bed, but my snores were loud enough to shake the walls. The corpse of a hanged woman in a painting opened its eyes at midnight, only to see me grinding my teeth in my sleep. When I got too hot in the middle of thenight, I rolled over and wrapped my arms around something cool and firm to the touch. It felt nice. The final boss whispered, “…Are you going to open your eyes? Or are you just using me as a body pillow?” [SYSTEM: Game “The Haunting of Crestfall Manor” has finished loading.] [SYSTEM: Player “Eva Nightingale” has entered the game.] [SYSTEM: Player Rank: C] The moment I materialized in the game, the other players seated around a long, mahogany table erupted. “Are you kidding me? We’re all A-rank players, and the system throws a C-rank noob in here?” “Some people will do anything for a few XP, even risk their lives. This one’s got a death wish!” “A C-rank, in Crestfall Manor? I’ll bet she doesn’t even last the night!” Nine men and women sat at the table, all seasoned A-rank veterans who had clawed their way out of countless digital hellscapes. They stared at me as if they’d just seen a ghost, probably horrified that they were now stuck babysitting a rookie. A young woman with a kind face couldn’t take the bickering anymore. She stood up. “Everyone, calm down. For a C-rank to be teleported into an A-rank instance, she must have a secret weapon, right?” “Bullshit! What could a C-rank possibly have?” “Exactly! How many instances has she even seen? She’ll probably piss her pants at the first sign of a ghoul!” The woman looked at me, urging, “Well? Do you have one?” A secret weapon? I actually did. I thought for a moment, then answered earnestly, “I’m an excellent sleeper.” The players fell silent. Then, in unison: “…Are you fucking with us?” The live-stream chat exploded. [Streamer, it’s okay to not have a skill, you know.] [LMAO, you don’t have to embarrass yourself with a skill that lame!] [Can the streamer just go home? Please just go home.] I sighed internally. They had no idea just how powerful a good night’s sleep could be. Once the players recovered from their shock, a man in a leather jacket swaggered over to me, looking me up and down with contempt. “You’re late. We’ve already assigned the rooms.” He pointed downwards. “The one in the basement is yours.” The manor had three floors. The A-rank players had, of course, claimed the prime real estate on the first and second floors. The room they’d left for me radiated a palpable chill, a coldness I could feel from ten feet away. The door was smeared with bloody handprints. Pale moonlight streamed through a grimy window, illuminating a large bed in the center of the room. [CHAT: Damn, even I’m getting scared just looking at this through my screen.] [CHAT: Everyone knows the ghosts in this instance start spawning from the basement. They’re totally screwing her over.] [CHAT: Look, she’s scared. She’s gonna turn around and beg the A-rankers for help!] I turned back to the man in the jacket and gave him a bright smile. “Goodnight.” The chat feed filled with question marks. The man, let’s call him Jax, was stunned into silence by my calm reaction. I shut the door in his face. Then, in one smooth motion, I kicked off my shoes, changed into my pajamas, and dove onto the bed. A king-sized bed! A single room! And the pillows were velvet! Did anyone understand what this meant to a college girl who’d spent four years crammed into a tiny dorm room? This was heaven! I rolled around ecstatically under the covers. [CHAT: Youth is wasted on the young. Falls asleep in a second.] [CHAT: Wait, she’s actually sleeping? Where does the system find these weirdos?] [CHAT: If she’d just looked up for a second, she would have fainted from fright.] Because I fell asleep so quickly, I completely missed the painting hanging over my bed: a portrait of a woman who had hanged herself. This horror instance, “The Haunting of Crestfall Manor,” was based on a real-life murder-suicide that had wiped out an entire family years ago in this very mansion. A family of five, all dead under mysterious circumstances. Ever since, the house has been haunted. As midnight struck, the woman in the painting’s eyes snapped open, bleeding pupils rolling downwards to look at me. Her voice, a dry rasp, filled the room. “He is my deepest nightmare…” “I am his closest secret…” “We share the same blood… Who is he?” I rolled over, tangling my legs in the blanket, and let out a soft snore. The ghost froze for a second, then gritted her teeth and repeated, “Who is he?” I responded with a loud, grating sound as I ground my teeth. The ghost was losing it. She started tearing at her hair and stomping her feet inside the painting. “Who is he!” “WHO IS HE!” “WHO IS HE!” [CHAT: …Wait, is this allowed? Did she just glitch the game?] [CHAT: How many players have been disemboweled by this ghost for getting the riddle wrong? And she just… sleeps through it.] [CHAT: This streamer is a rock. You could start a jet engine next to her ear and she wouldn’t stir.] The next morning, I woke up from my beauty sleep feeling refreshed. The room was normal, except for the hanged woman in the painting, who was now glaring at me with an expression of profound resentment. A system notification told me to go downstairs for breakfast. By the time I arrived, the long table held nothing but scraps and dirty plates. “Sorry,” a guy with bleached-blond hair said, picking his teeth. “I ate your share. A C-rank like you won’t last long anyway. Why waste valuable resources?” A girl handed me something. “Here, this was my hot milk. You can have it.” It was the same girl who had defended me yesterday. I took it. “Thanks.” “My name’s Eliot,” she said. “I’m…” I yawned. “…I’m a bit sleepy. Was there anything else? If not, I think I’ll go take a nap.” Eliot stared at me, speechless. “…Something happened on the first floor last night. A player died,” Jax announced, shaking me by the shoulder. I must have dozed off. “Since there’s a room free, the C-rank can have it.” I blinked my eyes open, realizing the A-rank players were discussing strategy. “Hey! I’m talking to you. Did you hear me?” I yawned again. “Sorry, I drifted off for a second. What were you saying?” Jax looked like he was about to pop a blood vessel. “Do you think this is a hotel? How can someone so young sleep so much!” It wasn’t until he opened the door that I understood why the A-rank players were suddenly being so generous. Before me was a little girl’s bedroom. A fluffy blue cloud-patterned rug was littered with dolls, and in the center stood a pink princess bed. But a stark contrast to the room’s cheerful decor was the massive pool of blood seeping out from under the bed, and the dismembered human limbs scattered across the floor. It was the room where the player had died last night. [CHAT: Well, Sleepyhead Eva is screwed now. Sleeping in here means a guaranteed visit from the little girl ghost. Get ready to be torn to shreds!] [CHAT: The little girl is a mini-boss. You can’t just sleep your way past her.] [CHAT: Don’t spoil it, guys! See? She’s so scared she’s running away… wait, why is she coming back with a broom?] I returned with a broom and dustpan and began sweeping up the body parts with a grunt. Then I took a rag and meticulously wiped every corner of the floor. When I was done, I finished with a spritz of air freshener. “Honestly, this little girl!” I muttered to myself. “No sense of bedroom hygiene at all!” After all, a clean and fresh environment is essential for quality sleep. [CHAT: …Did this woman used to be a professional cleaner? Why is she so calm?] [CHAT: When it comes to sleep, our streamer is dead serious.] [CHAT: Everyone else is here to clear the game, she’s here doing housekeeping. You could use that floor as a mirror now.] Thanks to my daytime chores, I was fast asleep before 10 PM. In the dead of night, a thick, coppery smell of blood seeped under the door. Creeeak—the door swung open. A little girl in a blood-soaked nightgown scuttled into the room on all fours, moving like a spider. In a flash, she was on the bed, ready to pounce. My snoring echoed through the room. The little girl froze, then opened her mouth in a silent, jagged scream. I remained still as a log, sleeping like the dead. [CHAT: NOW, LITTLE GIRL! BITE HER! DO IT!] [CHAT: I paid for the premium stream to see some action! I’ve got my popcorn ready!] [CHAT: Is it just me or is the vibe off? I thought this was a horror game, why do I feel like I stumbled into an ASMR stream?] The little girl shredded the bedsheets with her claws and lunged, her fangs aimed at my leg. I shot upright and, in a fluid motion, threw my thick cotton quilt over her. Trapped and disoriented under the blanket, the little girl thrashed and shrieked. I lifted a corner of the quilt, exposing only her head, and tucked the rest of her body snugly inside. When she saw my face, she started screaming again. I gently pinched her lips together with my fingers. “Hush now, little one. No more noise.” The girl froze, her large, crimson eyes staring blankly for a moment. I laid her down flat on the bed and patted her gently, as if soothing a child. “You poor thing,” I cooed. “Look at how bloodshot your eyes are. You’ve been staying up too late, haven’t you?” At my words, a single, dark tear trickled from the corner of her eye. After a long moment, she slowly closed her eyes. [CHAT: Is there a game master? Can someone check this? Is this even legal?] [CHAT: Totally legal. That little girl has been haunting this place for decades and no one’s ever tucked her in. Sleepyhead Eva just scored major points.] [CHAT: Eva’s gonna coddle these ghosts back into the womb at this rate.] As I continued my rhythmic patting, the little girl grew still and quiet, motionless as a porcelain doll. Up close, she was almost cute. The chat was still a waterfall of exclamation points. When I woke up the next morning, the little girl was gone. All that remained were the faint, dark stains on the sheets from her bloody nightgown. Downstairs, the other players stared at me, their faces a mask of disbelief as I walked in completely unharmed. “You… you didn’t encounter the boss last night?” Jax stammered. “Nope. Just met a little girl.” “We slept together,” I added. “She was a good kid. Didn’t even kick the blankets off.” A collective gasp went through the room. [SYSTEM: Congratulations to the remaining players for surviving the first three days.] [SYSTEM: From the third night onwards, the final boss will begin to roam randomly.] After a meager breakfast, the system announcement echoed. “Since this is about a family annihilation, I’m guessing the hidden boss is the killer,” one player theorized. “For safety, we should all move to the third floor and set up a watch schedule. What do you guys think…” “Excuse me,” I started. Jax shot me a withering glare. “A C-rank trying to ally with us? Not a chance. Stay away from us.” “Um, actually…” “Only three people can clear this game. We’re already being merciful by not ganging up on you!” I waited for Jax to finish his tirade, then pointed to a carton of warm milk next to him. “I was just going to ask… if you’re not going to drink that, can I have it?” Jax was speechless. The entire room fell silent, staring at me as if I were a complete idiot. Silence is consent. I happily took the milk and tucked it into my pocket. A little warm milk before bed is the key to a perfect night’s sleep, after all! The A-rank players claimed the two master bedrooms on the third floor, leaving me with a choice between a large and a small guest room. [CHAT: Place your bets, folks! Which one does she pick?] [CHAT: Is that even a question? She’s been sleeping like a log in huge beds for two nights straight.] [CHAT: Definitely the big one.] I stood in the hallway, looking at the two doors, then without a moment’s hesitation, I pushed open the door to the smaller room. [CHAT: …] [CHAT: Is she psychic? Can she see us? Why does she always do the opposite of what we expect?] Fools. Everyone knows a smaller room conserves energy and promotes better sleep. Just as I was about to step inside, a voice echoed from the void. [SYSTEM: Are you certain?] It was the system. [SYSTEM: Do you understand the consequences of staying here?] The system only ever intervened when a player was facing imminent, critical danger. The small room was sparsely furnished: a bed, a bookshelf, a wardrobe. I thought for a moment, then replied, “A wonderful night’s sleep.” The layout, the furniture… it was an exact replica of my childhood bedroom. Without another thought, I took a running leap and dove onto the bed, rolling around joyfully under the covers. Oh, my dear little bed, I’ve missed you so much! [SYSTEM: …] [SYSTEM: What is more important to you, clearing the game or sleeping?!] “Sleeping, obviously,” I replied. Midnight again. Thump. Thump. Thump. Heavy footsteps sounded right beside my pillow. A tall, shadowy figure stood by my bed, its limbs crudely stitched together, long hair hanging down to obscure its face. The chat, invisible to me, was going wild. [CHAT: !!! My husband is here! Who else re-watches this stream just to see the male ghost?!] [CHAT: He’s gonna go on a killing spree! I’m so excited! Snap her neck! Rip out her guts!] [CHAT: The boss has a 99.9% kill rate. The streamer is toast this time… wait. Did she just pull the boss into bed with her?] I was feeling unbearably hot in my sleep when my hand brushed against something icy cool. Without thinking, I pulled it into bed with me. Clutching the cold form in my arms, I felt all the stifling heat dissipate. It was so refreshing, so comfortable. The figure in my embrace stiffened. I mumbled something in my sleep, shifted my position, and nuzzled against its neck. The entity went completely rigid. A moment later, a low, raspy male voice broke the silence. “…Are you going to open your eyes? Or are you just using me as a body pillow?”

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At Crestwood Prep, my only joy was eating in the cafeteria. When classmates called me a fat pig, I’d grin: “Mom’s the top hog breeder in our county.” Then bullies shoved scholarship student Ramona into my food tray. The cafeteria roared as she lifted her head, her gaze chilling. Text scrolled in my vision: [You’re screwed! The heroine’s going dark! In 10 years, she’ll kill everyone here.] I hiccuped in terror. Lose my lunch and get murdered later? Ramona staggered away as the chat pitied her: [Bullying gave her anorexia. Only the male lead cures her—she stays loyal even when he hurts her.] Key detail: Cure her anorexia = Survive. I called Mom: “Got a project—an 80-pound ‘piglet.’ Pretty skinny one.” 1 “What? Son, isn’t that a little… lean for a pig?” My mom, a professional livestock breeder, sounded unimpressed. “Slip of the tongue, slip of the tongue!” I corrected myself. “Not a pig, a person. A scholarship student at my school. She’s so skinny you can count her ribs.” “Ribs?” my mom’s voice immediately brightened. “Now those are delicious! Great in a soup, or braised…” “Mom!” “Misheard you, misheard you! It’s noisy over here. So, you’re raising a classmate, not a pig, right? No problem! You bring her home, and I guarantee I’ll have her fattened up to a hundred and sixty pounds and ready for market in no time!” Hearing my mom’s promise, I breathed a massive sigh of relief. With her on the case, Ramona’s anorexia should be manageable, which meant my life was no longer on the line. I took off at a full sprint and caught up with Ramona. “Hey, classmate! Want to come over to my place for dinner?” The girl, who looked like a walking stick, slowly turned. Her school uniform was still stained with the gravy from my lunch tray. Her eyes were hollow, a ghost in a school uniform. At my invitation, she let out a cold, bitter laugh. “What’s this? Some new kind of prank?” I waved my hands frantically. “No, you’ve got it all wrong! I’m not with them. I just… you look a little thin. I wanted to invite you to my house for a meal.” Ramona acted as if she hadn’t heard me, turning to walk away. I rushed after her, pleading with all my heart. “Ramona, the food at my house is amazing! If you don’t believe me, just smell your uniform.” Hesitantly, she pinched the fabric of her shirt and gave it a tentative sniff. “See? Smells good, right? Today I had braised chitterlings, and the sauce is my mom’s secret…” Before I could finish, Ramona stumbled over to a wall and retched violently. I was stunned. Chitterlings are a delicacy! Why would she throw up? I crept closer, offering her a tissue with a smile. “Actually, it wasn’t chitterlings. It was pig’s head stew.” “Blech!” She threw up again. “Okay, okay, not stew either. It was offal soup!” “…” This time, Ramona didn’t vomit. She just passed out cold. The live chat reappeared in my vision. [Holy crap, is this guy for real? He knows she hates pork and he just keeps listing pig parts!] [Ramona: Looks like she’s breathing, but I think her soul just left her body.] [This side character has to be doing this on purpose, right? This is some next-level psychological torture!] [Forget physical bullying, this dude attacks the soul!] Feeling wronged, I called my mom. The second she picked up, I started wailing. “Mom! Someone hates pigs! Pigs are so cute, how could anyone hate pigs?!” 2 After I finished my tearful rant, I realized Ramona was still unconscious on the ground. With a sigh, I went to help her up. A well-meaning student came over and asked if I needed a hand. But before he could even finish his sentence, I had already hoisted Ramona onto my shoulder. I gave her a little bounce. She was way too light. Eighty, maybe eighty-five pounds, tops. The student stared, a bit awkwardly. Then, his curiosity got the better of him. “Luke, how are you so strong?” I scratched the back of my head, a little embarrassed. “Grew up carrying piglets. You just get used to it.” I took Ramona to the school infirmary, asked the nurse to get her into a clean set of clothes, and put everything on my tab. That’s the one downside to an elite academy—everything costs a fortune. Thank God for the stack of supplementary black cards my mom gave me. The school nurse put Ramona on an IV drip, her brow furrowed. “This student is suffering from severe malnutrition. If this continues, her prognosis is not optimistic.” I nodded in solemn agreement. “How about you write her a medical leave slip? I can take her home to recover.” Just as the nurse was about to write it, Ramona’s eyes fluttered open. “No,” she said, her voice sharp and final. She tried to pull the IV needle out of her arm. I quickly stopped her. “Ramona, your health is in a really dangerous state right now.” “Look, how about this? You come home with me. I’ll cover your food and housing, and I’ll even pay you a monthly salary. Just… be my personal tutor.” Ramona’s eyes were filled with suspicion. Even the nurse chimed in, “Luke, you know that human trafficking and fraud are illegal, right?” I stomped my foot in frustration. “It’s not a scam, it’s real!” Ramona sneered. “Do you rich people just get off on using your money to trample on other people’s dignity? My life may be worthless, but I won’t accept your humiliating charity!” She threw back the blanket and tried to get out of bed. I was out of options. I had to resort to my mom’s ultimate move. I tossed a card onto her blanket. “There’s ten thousand on this. Come back with me and have one meal.” Ramona froze. I threw down another card. “Fifty thousand.” The nurse cleared her throat. “Luke, is your family perhaps looking to hire a…” “Nope.” The nurse shook her head in disappointment. Just as I was about to throw down a third card, Ramona picked up the first one. Her head was bowed, her expression hidden. “Are you serious?” Her voice was as soft as a feather landing on snow. “Of course!” Ramona looked up, a faint glimmer of light in her eyes. “Then we sign a contract.” “Deal!” We were both in agreement. The live chat, however, was not. [What is this side character doing? Corrupting the heroine with money? And the heroine, seriously, giving in so easily!] [Her dad’s dead, her mom ran off, and the grandma who raised her is critically ill. She’s desperate for money!] [If I could be corrupted by a black card, I’d be open to it…] [Agree.] [Same here.] [Couldn’t agree more.] 3 We signed the contract in my Rolls-Royce, parked just outside the school gates. After signing, Ramona’s gaze on me grew even more complicated. She lowered her head, a self-deprecating smile on her lips. “I’ve taken your money. Now you can humiliate me however you want.” As she spoke, she took my hand and pressed it against her own cheek, her expression vacant. “Hit me as you please. I won’t fight back.” A button on her shirt was undone, and through the gap, I could see angry red marks on her skin. I snatched my hand back as if I’d been electrocuted, shaking it out. “No, no, no! I’m not into hitting people.” Ramona looked at me, her eyes filled with confusion and disbelief. “You gave me the money so you could take out your frustrations on me, right? Or… do you have something even worse in mind?” I was taken aback. I never imagined that’s how she would see things. What on earth had she been through to become this way? “Ramona, your grades are incredible. I’m paying you to tutor me!” Her eyes remained wary, as if the world had never shown her an ounce of kindness. I let out a breath and extended my hand with a smile. “Let’s start over. I’m Luke, from class 2-B. It’s a pleasure to meet you properly.” Ramona hesitantly shook my hand. “Ramona. Class 1-A.” I brought Ramona to my house. Not long after, my mom came home. She had a jade pendant the size of a car air freshener hanging around her neck and two or three thick gold bracelets on each wrist. From head to toe, she screamed one thing: nouveau riche. And she was. That’s why I never talked back when the kids at school called me a rich brat. They were right. Besides, I didn’t see it as an insult. Plenty of people would kill to be nouveau riche. Mom was thrilled to see Ramona. “Well hello there, young lady!” She slapped Ramona on the shoulder, a friendly gesture that sent the poor girl into a fit of coughing. “Mom!” I yelped, rushing to pour Ramona water and pat her back. I tried to smooth things over. “Ramona, please don’t be mad! My mom doesn’t mean any harm, she’s just… got a bit of a strong hand.” If Ramona got angry and added my mom to her future kill list, it would be a disaster. The world of animal husbandry would lose a shining star. Ramona, her face flushed from coughing, just shook her head. “It’s okay, I’m fine.” My mom pulled me aside. “Son, you’ve never brought a classmate home before, especially not a girl! And seeing how nervous you were… don’t tell me you…” She wiggled her eyebrows at me. I didn’t disappoint, nodding firmly. “You’re right, Mom. I like her.” “So, I need you to do whatever it takes to get her healthy, happy, and well-fed!” My mom immediately snapped a salute. “Yes, sir, young master!” When it came to animal husbandry, I trusted my mom completely. When she was young, she raised pigs back in our home county. She was so good at it they called her the Pig Whisperer. Not a single pig she sold weighed less than three hundred pounds. Later, a few colorful birds showed up in our yard. Mom just tossed them some feed on the side. Before we knew it, our yard was overrun. Just as she was about to whip me up a nice pheasant stew, some officials from the city showed up. Turns out they weren’t just any birds; they were a critically endangered species of pheasant. The same birds that experts were struggling to keep alive were thriving and multiplying under my mom’s care. After that, my mom started raising everything. Now, our family owns dozens of large-scale wildlife parks and conservation centers across the country. Ordinary animals come to us and get fattened up like prize hogs before having a dozen babies. Rare animals breed like they’re trying to become an invasive species. If she could handle all those tricky animals, I had no doubt she could handle one skinny girl named Ramona. 4 Ramona, taking her new role as my tutor seriously, started spreading her textbooks out on the dining table, ready to begin my lesson. While she wasn’t looking, I quietly whisked the stack of worksheets and review books away. When Ramona turned back, the papers she had just laid out were gone. She looked around, confused, even checking under the table. “In our house,” I explained quickly, “the dining table is a sacred space. Mundane things like books and papers are not allowed to defile it.” It was a bizarre excuse, and Ramona stared at me for a long moment. I suspected the top chemistry student was trying to analyze the elemental composition of my brain. Before she could produce a new set of worksheets, my mom started bringing out the food. With a platter of Lobster Thermidor in her left hand and a tureen of seared foie gras in her right, she bellowed, “Dinner’s served!” She set the dishes down with a flourish. She winked at Ramona. “Luke told me you don’t like pork, so tonight is a Pork-Free Fiesta!” The name was definitely her creation. Ramona stared at the two extravagant dishes, stunned. After a moment, she stammered, “Isn’t this… a little too much food?” My mom’s use of stainless steel serving platters the size of hubcaps had clearly intimidated her. I was about to explain when our household staff began to march in, a parade of culinary excess. “Roast duck, one whole!” “Bouillabaisse, one tureen!” “Roasted leg of lamb, one!” … I think Ramona’s brain short-circuited. Dish after magnificent dish was placed before her. Things that flew in the sky, ran on the ground, and swam in the sea were all present on our table. Ramona slowly turned to me, her eyes wide with undisguised shock. I held up one of her confiscated worksheets. “See? I told you. No room for study materials on the table.” She frowned, looking completely baffled. The live chat started laughing at me. [Hahaha, he really messed up! The heroine can’t stomach anything rich or meaty at this stage! And he serves her a feast of flesh.] [Does he really think her anorexia is that easy to cure? Only the male lead has the magic touch!] Ramona opened her mouth to speak, but I shot up from my seat. “Wait! I know what you’re going to say!” I turned to my mom, my expression more determined than ever. “Mom, change of plans! Swap out the menu!” Ten minutes later, the table was a sea of green. Several of the salads looked like they’d been plucked from the garden moments ago. I presented a pair of chopsticks to Ramona with both hands, flashing a triumphant smile. “Ramona, please, eat whatever you like.” Who are you kidding? I thought. We’re professional breeders. We can produce any kind of food on demand. That night, Ramona only managed a few bites. My mom and I, on the other hand, ate a field’s worth of salad. Our household staff got the full multi-course feast. As Ramona ate, she took tiny, delicate bites, her brow constantly furrowed as if swallowing was a monumental effort. When it was time for her to leave, I couldn’t stop staring at her. I followed her every move, terrified she might throw up the few precious lettuce leaves she’d managed to eat. Finally, at the door, she couldn’t stand it anymore and asked. “Luke, that thing you said earlier… were you serious?” I blanked. I’d said so many things. Which one was she talking about? Ramona took a deep breath, her slender fingers twisting the hem of her uniform until the fabric was mangled. Her eyes darted around, nervous sweat beading on her forehead. “The part where you said… you… you like me…”

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I was just about to pull out my black card to sponsor Sean Miller’s tuition. But the shy, unassuming boy before me suddenly became cold and aloof. A stream of comments scrolled frantically across my vision. 【The male lead has been reborn. He’s back at the very beginning.】 【In this life, he can finally be with his childhood sweetheart and fix last life’s regrets.】 【If it weren’t for the villainess and her dirty money getting between them, the main couple never would have missed out on a lifetime together.】 I looked up and met Sean’s suddenly icy gaze. His eyes only reddened when he turned to look at his childhood sweetheart. Well, this is interesting. The male lead has been reborn. Back to being eighteen, dirt-poor, with nothing to his name. 1 Standing this close to Sean, I could feel the distinct shift in his aura. It was an air of sophistication, the kind that only comes from being steeped in money for a long, long time. It was something you’d never find on a broke kid. He glanced at the black card in my hand with disgust, his voice flat and distant. “I told you, I’ll figure out my own tuition. I don’t need you to insult my dignity with your money.” With that, he walked straight past me and pulled Molly Peters, who was glaring at me with open hostility, into his arms. He held her with the kind of force you use on a long-lost treasure finally recovered. “Molly,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “After everything, I finally know. You’re the one I love most in this life.” A wave of murmurs rippled through the onlookers. The comments scrolling before my eyes became even more dense. 【OMG! The ML is so brave! The first thing he does after being reborn is confess to the female lead!】 【Right? No beating around the bush!】 【The evil villainess must be stunned. In the last life, the ML reluctantly took her black card for tuition and agreed to be with her. Now that he’s reborn, all her money is useless!】 2 I rubbed my eyes and stared at the floating text, piecing together the facts. I was the “villainess” they were talking about. The wicked rich girl who used money to force the male lead into a relationship. And Sean, the boy in front of me, had been reborn. In our previous life, I had fallen for him at first sight when we started university. When I found out he couldn’t afford tuition, I offered him my black card, covering all his expenses for four years on the condition that he would be my boyfriend. After a long, agonizing struggle, Sean had accepted the card, and my terms, with a sense of deep humiliation. He buried his years of pining for his childhood sweetheart, Molly, deep in his heart. He believed I was the one who tore his true love apart, and he resented my spoiled, arrogant personality. He was sensitive and insecure, feeling like he had no dignity in our relationship. But he had also grown accustomed to the lifestyle my money provided and couldn’t bear to lose me, his cash cow. Two years after graduation, news came that Molly was getting married. Years of suppressed love erupted, and Sean, in a frantic state, drove off to crash her wedding. On the way, he was distracted and collided with a truck, dying on impact. Now, reborn, the first thing he did was declare the love he never could before, hoping to soothe the regrets of his past life. I frowned. What the comments said did sound like my personality. But if he took so much of my money, and I even used my connections to help him start a company after graduation… what was wrong with him being a little more subservient to me? A little more obedient? Wasn’t that expected? Or did he really think he could have his cake and eat it too, and eventually swallow my family’s entire fortune? I let out a cold laugh and decisively tossed the black card to a random guy walking by. “Sean, who said I was going to sponsor you?” I announced, my voice clear and sharp. “The one I want to give it to is him.” I turned to the stunned guy. “Hey handsome, want to be my boyfriend?” 3 【Wait, what’s happening? Did I miss something? Why did she give the black card to someone else?】 【Dude, even if you take the card, it’s useless. The villainess only has eyes for the male lead. She’d never look at anyone else in this life.】 【It’s just a tactic. Playing hard to get. Pfft, the ML won’t fall for it.】 Sean froze. Freshly reborn, his eyes held a flicker of disbelief and confusion. It seemed he hadn’t realized that this life’s script was already deviating from the last. But with his true love right in front of him, and the shock of death and the joy of rebirth still overwhelming his mind, he didn’t dwell on it. I enthusiastically invited the handsome stranger to dinner. The semester had just started, so I didn’t recognize many faces. As for Sean, I’d only heard whispers from other students that he still hadn’t scraped together his tuition money. That’s why I’d kindly offered the card, intending to ask if he’d be my boyfriend. His chiseled face was exactly my type, enough to make my hormones get the better of me. Perhaps, in the last life, I truly did love Sean. But in this one, that love was snuffed out before it even had a chance to bloom. I had money. Endless amounts of it. I was the sole heiress to the Sterling fortune. A princess who had never been wronged in her life. Why would I waste my time on a lost cause? A relationship is a relationship, no matter who it’s with. And the handsome guy holding my black card now? He was totally my type, too. I chose the most expensive restaurant near campus. I frowned as I flipped through the menu, then tossed it to the waiter. “Bring us one of everything on your signature menu.” The waiter scurried away, beaming. Just then, the restaurant doors swung open, drawing everyone’s attention. I glanced over. It was the reborn male lead, with his beloved childhood sweetheart on his arm. 4 The Sean of the previous life had been well-nurtured by money. From his dining etiquette to his posture, he was flawless—the very picture of a wealthy young master. He kept glancing my way, the contempt and irritation in his eyes impossible to hide. He seemed convinced that I was only here to hit on him, that I was some kind of stalker he couldn’t shake. He was even more certain that my dining with another man was a pathetic attempt to make him jealous. Sean sat up straight, casually ordering seven or eight signature dishes from the menu. Then he turned to Molly with a look of deep affection. “Molly, the food here is just so-so. Please bear with it for now. When I have time, I’ll take you to taste the finest imported seafood. And then we’ll go to the luxury boutiques and get you all the latest season’s clothes.” Molly looked like she’d been hit in the face by a winning lottery ticket, nearly fainting from sheer luck. She shot me a smug glance and raised her voice. “Sean, darling, since this is the first day of our relationship, I have a gift I’ve been preparing for a long time.” Her face was aglow with pride. The comments said that Molly and Sean were childhood sweethearts, and they were just waiting until they got into the same university to confess their feelings. When I’d pulled out my black card, Molly had apparently been so angry she could have ground her teeth to dust. The way she looked at me now, you’d think I was the other woman. But when Sean agreed to be my boyfriend in the last life, he never mentioned Molly, did he? Molly mysteriously produced a simple, plain box. Sean’s face lit up with excitement. The comments were screaming. 【OMG, the main couple is so sweet in their first meeting after rebirth! Things are moving so fast!】 【I can’t even keep up with them!】 【What do you think is in the box? I remember in the last life, what Iris gave the ML was a famous watch worth over a million!】 【The female lead might not be as rich as the villainess now, but her gift must be full of heart.】 The box rested in her palm, feeling weightless. Sean opened it with great anticipation. Inside lay a small jar filled with handmade paper stars. Molly blinked. “Sean, darling, I folded these over the summer, just waiting for us to get into the same university so I could give them to you when I confessed. Every single strip of paper has ‘I love you’ written on it. Do you like it?” 5 The previously bustling comment section went silent. If I didn’t know Sean had been reborn, I might have thought he’d be touched by this gift. For an eighteen-year-old Sean, a jar of paper stars might have been a precious, heartfelt gesture. Tender and beautiful. But beneath his youthful exterior was the soul of a twenty-four-year-old man. A man who was used to gourmet food, who had seen countless luxury watches and cars, who took high-end gifts for granted. Just a few hours ago, the Sean who died in a car crash was driving a Maybach from my garage. The soft leather of the steering wheel and the rough-hewn wood of this cheap box were worlds apart. I smiled and took a watch box from my purse. I’d bought it on a whim while passing a luxury watch store earlier. Since this Eason Croft was now my boyfriend, I couldn’t be stingy. I pushed the exquisite watch box towards him. “Boyfriend, it’s our first day together, too. This is my gift to you. See if you like it.” 【Wait, wasn’t that the watch she gave the ML in the last life? Why is she giving it to someone else?】 【She’s definitely still playing hard to get, trying to get the ML’s attention. Trust me, she won’t last long.】 【Yep, the villainess is totally flustered. She’s lost her game plan.】 The watch gleamed under the lights. Eason, still reeling from the shock of the black card, was hit with another stunner. His hand trembled as he reached for the watch, but Sean’s roar stopped him. “Don’t touch it!” he yelled. “That’s clearly my—” He swallowed the rest of his words. I knew what he wanted to say. That watch is his. According to the comments, in his past life, he wore that watch for six years and adored it. Every night before bed, he would take it off, carefully polish it, and place it back in its box. But this life was different. He now had the company of his beloved childhood sweetheart. Surely, he had no interest in such vulgar, material things anymore. Molly’s face darkened, and she rolled her eyes at me. “So what if you’re rich? You reek of disgusting money. A heartless watch like that can’t compare to my stars, which are full of love. Right, Sean darling?” Sean snapped back to reality and forced a smile. “Molly’s right.” He gathered himself, about to serve his beloved some food, when his phone rang. It was a cheap burner phone with a terrible speaker. From a short distance away, I could clearly hear the cold female voice on the other end. “Mr. Miller, it’s time to pay your mother’s hospital bills.” 6 The color drained from Sean’s face. The comment section erupted in a panic. 【I almost forgot! The ML’s mother is seriously ill in the hospital, waiting for life-saving money!】 【I remember in the last life, the villainess just threw a million at the hospital, and the surgery went smoothly.】 【Oh god, no. The main couple just started their sweet romance. Is the villainess going to use his sick mom to blackmail him into being with her again?】 【Why is the villainess so persistent? She’s like a ghost!】 【Oh no, the villainess is looking at him. She must think this is her chance to make a move.】 I remembered hearing some students mention before I’d pulled out my card that Sean’s mother had been battling cancer for years, and his family had exhausted all their savings and was deep in debt. I quickly turned back to Eason. “No one in your family is sick, right?” “No, no, not at all…” Sean, his face ashen, stood up to leave for the hospital but was stopped by the waiter. “Sir, you haven’t paid the bill.” A wave of snickers went through the restaurant. In his past life, backed by my family’s wealth, he could walk into any high-end restaurant and be greeted by a fawning owner who would insist he not worry about the bill. His rebirth was too recent. He hadn’t broken his old habits. The waiter had already printed the bill. One thousand two hundred and eighty dollars. A sum that wouldn’t have even paid for half a bottle of wine in his previous life. Sean instinctively reached for his pocket, searching for the black card. He found nothing. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead. Right. He was eighteen again. Younger, yes, but also poorer. Right now, he was penniless. Forget one thousand two hundred and eighty dollars; he didn’t even have the eighty. The waiter maintained his professional smile. Sean gritted his teeth and turned to Molly, his voice strained. “Molly, can you cover this for now? I’ll pay you back.” 7 Molly immediately grew wary. “Sean, my monthly allowance is only fifteen hundred dollars. This one meal is twelve hundred. What am I supposed to live on for the rest of the month?” “Don’t worry, I have ways to make money.” “What ways? Besides, you said it was your treat. Why am I the one paying?” Molly grumbled, unwilling to pay. The young couple, who had confessed their love less than an hour ago, was now facing the first hurdle in their romance. I took out my card at the perfect moment and called out, “Waiter.” Sean turned his head away in disgust, as if I was about to latch onto him and refuse to let go. Reborn, he wanted nothing to do with a spoiled princess like me. The humiliation of me throwing money at him in his past life was still fresh in his mind. His voice was laced with deep revulsion. “Iris, how many times do I have to tell you? Can you just stay away from me? I hate you clinging to me, and I hate you getting between me and Molly. Neither I nor my mother need your filthy money!” I was genuinely surprised by his audacity. Even according to the bullet comments, where I was deeply in love with him, in this life, we hadn’t gotten together. The bullet comments had appeared just as I pulled out the card, before I could even ask him to be my boyfriend. He was the one who preemptively declared his love for Molly. Before that, we’d had no interaction whatsoever. He was the one who despised his past life. And yet, he was the one who couldn’t seem to let it go. I let out a cold laugh. “I was just calling the waiter to pay my own bill.” “Mr. Miller,” I said, my voice dripping with mock concern. “Are you suffering from some sort of delusion? Why are you so convinced I’m chasing you?” 8 Sean’s face went white. He was only now realizing that in this life, we were essentially strangers. The six years of entanglement from his past had yet to happen. The realization made him stagger back a step. The comments grew anxious. 【What’s going on? Why isn’t the villainess paying for Sean’s mom’s treatment?】 【Yeah, his mom has cancer. If she doesn’t pay, how is he going to get that astronomical sum of money?】 【His mom was the only person who comforted him during those six years of humiliating life.】 Reading those comments, my face darkened. They called the six years I supported him a “humiliating life.” An unbearable memory for him. In my past life, after I paid for his mother’s treatment, her private advice to him was: “Sean, honey, you can’t let a woman walk all over you. Listen to Mom, you have to control the money. Make her live by your rules! My son is so outstanding, a university student, girls would line up to be with you. The Sterlings only have one daughter. Sooner or later, their money will be ours, right?” And Sean had nodded obediently through it all, enduring his “humiliation.” Too bad for them, the Sterling family’s vast fortune wasn’t something an outsider like him could ever touch. All he ever got was the pocket change that fell through my fingers. If he was obedient, I’d give him a little. If he wasn’t, he got nothing. A girl from my background wasn’t stupid enough to just hand over her family’s wealth. Sean coveted everything my family had, but it was always out of his reach. Eason couldn’t hold back any longer. “Mr. Miller, aren’t you the one who’s been bothering Iris? She hasn’t even spoken to you, yet you keep acting like you’re some kind of victim. It’s ridiculous.” Sean’s face clouded over, his tone impatient. “You, Croft. You’re just some country bumpkin. Who do you think you are, talking to me like that? Do you have any idea who I am?” 9 His voice was low and deep, like a domineering CEO, infused with a touch of money-bred arrogance. In his past life, after his company took off, countless people had flattered him, calling him Mr. Miller. All that praise had gone to his head. But Sean hadn’t noticed. The clothes he was wearing right now were shabbier than Eason’s. I raised an eyebrow and clapped my hands. “Mr. Miller is right.” Eason looked at me, hurt. I looked Eason up and down. His clothes were ordinary and cheap. Dressed like that, didn’t he look just like a country bumpkin? I frowned and waved a hand, unleashing my inner princess. “These rags are so shabby, I wouldn’t even wear them as a gift. Eason, you’re coming with me to the mall right now, and you’re not leaving until you’ve bought at least a hundred thousand dollars worth of clothes!” 10 Walking out of the mall with several shopping bags, Eason was still in a state of shock. He couldn’t seem to process what had just happened. I lazily flicked my hair over my shoulder. My boyfriend, naturally, had to wear the best. Everything I gave Sean in the last life, I wouldn’t give him a single cent of in this one. The bullet comments were still chattering about Sean’s situation. He was currently being tormented by his lack of money. Tuition, living expenses, his mother’s medical bills. If Molly was his only regret in the last life, then in this one, after fixing that single regret, he had created twenty new ones. On the way back to the university, I enjoyed reading the comments. 【ML, don’t go to her! You’ll be entangled with her for years again! I want to see your sweet romance with the FL!】 【The poor ML. He’s going to be forced back to the villainess’s side.】 【Who can stand the villainess’s spoiled attitude?】 【Ugh, does being reborn not even help you escape the evil villainess’s control?】 Scrolling down, I saw it. As expected, standing in front of my dorm was the solitary, proud figure of Sean. He looked like he’d been waiting for a long time. When he saw me, he first gave a desolate smile, then seemed to resign himself to his fate. “Iris, I lose. I can’t escape you after all.” “Fine,” he said, as if making a great sacrifice. “As long as you give me the black card and promise to tone down your princess attitude, I’m willing to be your boyfriend.” 11 He spoke with an air of utter defeat, as if he’d made a monumental decision and a huge concession. His face was a mask of humiliation and shame. His dignity was really something. To think it was worth as much as my unlimited black card. I smirked. I’d never seen someone beg for scraps so arrogantly. I couldn’t help but remind him, “Mr. Miller, have we met?” Sean scoffed. “Iris, no one knows you better than I do. Did you think this little game of playing hard to get would make me look at you twice? Alright, enough. Just give me the black card. My mom is in the hospital waiting.” He was so certain. So sure that I would give in to him. In our past life, we were together for six years. If it wasn’t for love, I probably wouldn’t have lasted that long. He had seen me crazy in love. He had seen my grand, public displays of affection. As the one being pursued, he had always been fearless. His mother’s hospital bills couldn’t wait any longer. A pile of problems was waiting for him to solve with money. Eason decisively stepped in front of me, shattering Sean’s arrogance. “When did Iris ever say she wanted you to be her boyfriend?” 12 That last sentence hit Sean like a bolt of lightning. He stood frozen for a long moment, then suddenly remembered something. The first thing he had done upon being reborn was confess to Molly. As for me, I really hadn’t said a word about him being my boyfriend. The entanglements of our past life had yet to occur in this one. But Sean quickly shook his head with a self-deprecating laugh. The six years of their past relationship were too deeply ingrained in his memory. Event after event, he simply couldn’t believe that I hadn’t loved him. He sighed, his voice heavy with an exhaustion he couldn’t hide. “Alright, Iris, I admit my confessing to Molly made you unhappy. But my mother’s situation can’t wait. Give me the card, and I’ll let the past go.” Seeing Sean’s dejected surrender, the comments grew frantic. 【The ML was finally reborn! Why is he getting entangled with the villainess again?】 【And so begins the six years of humiliating life.】 【But without the villainess, the ML is just a poor student. He wouldn’t even have startup capital for a business. How would he get money?】 I looked at Sean. My words were a reply to him, and to the comments. “If you don’t have money, figure it out yourself. If you’re not willing to sell a kidney, you’ve still got other assets, haven’t you?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393673”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On the day of Landon’s engagement party, he arranged for a couple of street thugs to pick a fight with me. By the time I finished giving my statement at the police station, night had fallen. When I finally got home, I overheard someone ask where I’d been. Landon just laughed. “I was worried she’d make a scene, so I arranged for her to spend the day… getting acquainted with the police. By the time she gets out, it’ll all be over.” I stood outside the door, a bitter smile twisting my lips. I blocked Landon’s number and every other contact we had in common, turned on my heel, and boarded a flight out of the country. I heard later that when Landon couldn’t find me, the ever-composed man finally lost his mind, his eyes turning a feral red as he muttered to himself, “She’s just jealous. She’s playing games to punish me. Once she cools off, she’ll be back. She has to be.” But he didn’t understand. I wasn’t playing a game. I was really, truly, leaving him for good. 1 The sky was already dark by the time I finished my statement at the police station. The day Landon got engaged, my world tilted. I was so out of it that I turned a corner and hit another car. The other driver was determined to drag it out, and the whole mess had only just been resolved. Landon’s phone went straight to voicemail, every time. My social media feed was a minefield of photos of him and his fiancée. Each picture was a fresh stab to the heart. I was furious. A full day’s worth of humiliation and anger churned inside me, demanding release. I hailed a cab and went straight to his house. The door was ajar, and the sounds of laughter and conversation drifted out. Landon often had friends over for drinks or to watch a game. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but when I heard my own name, I froze. “Honestly, man, we all thought you and Aria would be the ones,” his friend Ethan was saying, his voice laced with regret. “You guys grew up together. She’s stunningly beautiful, but damn, that temper…” “She’s spoiled,” another voice chimed in. “She’s been throwing tantrums for years. You’d think she’d get tired of it.” Landon was sunk deep into the sofa. He glanced at his watch, a flicker of irritation crossing his handsome features. He was probably thinking it was about time for me to show up, ready for a tearful, screaming match. The thought alone gave him a headache. “It’s weird, though,” Ethan mused. “You getting engaged to Lila… I expected Aria to raise hell. But she’s been a ghost all day. Where is she?” Landon chuckled. “I was worried she’d make a scene, so I arranged for her to spend the day getting acquainted with the police. By the time she gets out, it’ll all be over.” “Damn, that’s cold. Only you could handle Aria like that, Landon,” his other friend, Josh, said with admiration. “Landon,” Ethan said, his tone more serious now. “Have you ever thought… with you engaged to Lila, what if Aria is really hurt? What if she just… leaves?” An image of my tear-streaked face flashed through Landon’s mind, and a wave of unease washed over him. He quickly snuffed it out with a cold scoff. “Frankly,” he said with a shrug, “I’d be relieved.” Relieved. That’s what seven years of devotion had earned me. I pulled my hand back from the door and turned away. It was early winter, and the air hadn’t turned truly cold yet. But a chill seeped right through my coat and into my bones. All these years, orbiting Landon, fighting and making up, I was the only one who ever stayed. I truly believed we were endgame. But here he was, having me detained just so he could get engaged to someone else without a fuss. How pathetic did he think I was, to let him degrade me like this, again and again? Rain began to fall, and the weather forecast had predicted a drop in temperature, maybe even snow later tonight. When it snowed in this city, it never seemed to stop. I used to hate the winter, but Landon would wrap me in his oversized coat, and he always kept a warm blanket in his car just for me. Now, it was clear those moments of perceived happiness were just illusions, destined to crumble before the finish line. The rain fell harder, plastering strands of hair to my forehead. My steps faltered. I shook my head, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. How had my life come to this? Suddenly, the fight drained out of me. The endless arguments about love and loyalty felt like a joke. I pulled my damp coat tighter around myself, and an idea took root in my mind. I needed to go somewhere warm. Somewhere without winter, without snow. And most importantly, without Landon. 2 I blocked Landon and all his friends. Every last one. A message came through from an unknown number. It was Lila, Landon’s fiancée. [He’s engaged to me now. You have no idea how much he adores me. You should back off gracefully and keep some of your dignity. Landon always hated dealing with you. Every time he had to see you, he’d buy me a gift to make up for it. Everything you have, I have. And I have plenty that you don’t. Stop bothering him. Or I’ll tell everyone how you’ve been trying to seduce my fiancé.] Lila. Landon’s perpetually clumsy personal assistant. Delicate and fragile, her eyes would well up at the slightest harsh word, like a frightened kitten. Did Landon know this venomous side of her? She had been subtly sabotaging me for months. “Accidentally” spilling wine on my couture gown, “unintentionally” breaking my diamond necklace. I saw her for the master manipulator she was back then, but Landon was always completely taken in by her act. If I so much as raised my voice to her, he would leap to her defense. A shame about all those beautiful clothes and jewels. I’d tried to argue with him, but he’d just placate me with a dismissive, “You have plenty of things like that. She’s just a girl new to the real world, what does she know? Don’t make things hard for Lila.” I had plenty. But if someone else broke them, they had to pay. I forwarded the matter to my lawyer, instructing him to bill Lila for every last penny. Then I took out my SIM card and tossed it in the trash. Good riddance to bad rubbish. I hope they’re miserable together forever. My parents came upstairs to find me packing, their faces etched with worry. “Aria, sweetheart, are you sure about this? What that Landon boy did was unforgivable. We’re going to march over there and demand an explanation!” Our families had always tacitly approved of our relationship. Similar backgrounds, a shared history—it seemed like the perfect match. “Mom, Dad, if you want me to have any pride left, please don’t,” I pleaded. “I can go abroad and help my brother with his business, right? You always wanted me to get more real-world experience.” They were stunned to hear me say it. For years, I had been completely obsessed, chasing Landon around since high school. “You’re not just doing this to make a point?” my mother asked cautiously. I hugged them both tightly. “I used to be a mess, I know,” I said, my voice firm. “But not anymore.” My parents had the same high hopes for me as they did for my brother. It was I who had been reckless and stubborn, mistaking Landon for my entire world. “Alright,” my dad said, his voice thick with emotion. “Our daughter is strong and capable. If you’ve made up your mind, you go do it. If you get into any trouble, Dad will be right here to bail you out.” “I will,” I promised, my voice catching in my throat. I turned and walked onto the plane, leaving the city and everything it held behind me. It was a closed chapter. 3 That night, Landon waited. For Aria. Or a call from her. He told himself that if she called again, he’d be gracious and pick up. He’d even tolerate her tears and her accusations. But there was nothing. The feeling was like a kite string snapping in his hand—a sudden, gut-wrenching hollowness. “Landon, I can’t hang, man. I gotta get some sleep,” Josh said, his eyes barely staying open. They’d been drinking all night, but as the hours wore on, it was clear Landon’s mind was elsewhere. Lila called, her voice a soft, cooing murmur. “Landon, are you still up? I miss you. I want to come see you.” Landon swirled the liquor in his glass. “Josh and Ethan are here. It’s my last bachelor party. Be good, get some sleep.” After a little more pouting, Lila reluctantly hung up. Josh sidled up to Ethan. “What’s with him?” he whispered. “Who throws themselves a bachelor party after they get engaged?” Ethan stared into his glass and sighed. “What bachelor party? He’s waiting for someone. Isn’t it obvious?” Normally, Aria’s temper would have sent her storming over hours ago. The fact that she hadn’t was a very bad sign. “Should I try calling her? See where she is?” Ethan offered. Landon walked to the window without turning around. “Do what you want.” Ethan called the police station first. They confirmed Aria had left at dusk. Her own phone was unreachable. When Landon tried, he discovered he’d been blocked. So had Ethan and Josh. “Looks like she’s really pissed this time, man,” Josh said. “Aria’s not one to sit still. What if she’s serious this time? You had her locked up and got engaged to someone else. It was a bit much, Landon,” Ethan said, finally voicing what he’d been thinking all night. They tried calling Aria’s friends, but no one had seen or heard from her. The ever-composed Landon finally snapped. He kicked over the coffee table, sending bottles crashing to the floor. Glass shattered everywhere. He had never, not for a moment, imagined she would actually leave. She was like his shadow, always there, always clinging to him. They had been together for so long, and both their families had accepted it as fact. As for Lila… the more Aria bullied her, the more he felt the need to protect the girl. He’d protected her for so long he couldn’t even untangle his own feelings anymore. His eyes were bloodshot as he muttered to himself, “She’s just jealous. She’s playing games to punish me. Once she cools off, she’ll be back. She has to be.” It had happened before, before Lila. She’d get angry, they’d fight. But if he was patient, if he just coaxed her a little, she’d always forgive him, and love him even more fiercely than before. But he didn’t know. Aria wasn’t running away in a tantrum. She was running away for good. 4 The flight was long. After an entire night in the air, I landed. My brother wasn’t there to pick me up. Instead, it was his best friend, Caden. I’d heard they were inseparable, the kind of friends who grew up practically sharing the same pair of pants. There were even rumors that Caden was secretly in love with my brother. So, I kept my guard up and offered him a polite smile. “Long time no see, Caden.” He was tall and strikingly handsome, dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt. His smile was as bright and warm as the climate here. “Your brother had to fly out for a business meeting last minute. He asked me to pick you up.” He reached for my suitcase and patted the top of it. “Wanna ride?” “I’m not a kid anymore.” Caden was five years older than me. He used to come over to our house all the time when we were younger, and his favorite game was to pull me around the house in his suitcase. He whistled, tossed my luggage into the trunk, and drove me to his place. The weather here was perfect, a comfortable 70 degrees. He blasted music from his flashy red convertible, and as I watched the scenery fly by, the warm wind seemed to blow away all my fatigue, washing away the icy residue of my old life. I liked this place. “Your brother’s place is being renovated, so you’ll have to rough it here with me for a few days. Your room’s ready. Upstairs, second door on the right. It’s across from mine.” The room was great, with a huge floor-to-ceiling window. The decor, however, was… questionable. Pink. Everywhere. Classic straight-guy decorating. I was exhausted. I unpacked a few things and crashed, hoping to catch up on sleep. In my dreams, I was back in high school, the first time I saw Landon. He was leaning against a windowsill, listening to music, reading a book. The wind rustled the leaves outside, playing with his hair and the hem of his crisp, white shirt. It was a scene straight out of a movie. A group of girls were daring each other to be the first to confess their feelings to him. Without a second thought, I walked right up to him. “Landon, I like you.” He looked up at me, a mocking smile on his lips. “Aria, are you an idiot?” I woke up with a jolt. It was mortifying, even in a dream. God, I really was brave back then. As I recalled, on the actual day of my confession, Landon had just smirked and said nothing. Caden’s voice came from outside my door. “Aria, are you a damn pig? You’ve been sleeping for a day and a night! Even a pig would lose to you in a sleeping contest. Get up and eat!” The food was Caden’s own cooking, and it was incredible. He was famous for his impulsive passions. If he had a bad meal at a restaurant, he’d open his own. He liked drumming, so he started a band. He got interested in geology, disappeared into the mountains, and had to be rescued by a helicopter. He dropped out of college halfway through to become a race car driver. His life was a long list of rebellious acts. Finally, his family had enough and shipped him abroad to learn some discipline. When he found out my brother was here, he moved his company’s branch office to be nearby. At the time, my parents and I were terrified he would corrupt our family’s only son. But a part of me envied him. A life lived like that… could he have any regrets? “So, Caden, what have you been up to all these years?” I asked, curious. “Business,” he said, not even looking up. “And you? What are you doing here?” “Learning business from my brother.” We sounded like we were conducting a very dry interview. He frowned, then said thoughtfully, “Well, your brother’s out of town. You can learn from me for now.” 5 And so, I started learning business from a former delinquent. It turns out you really can’t judge a book by its cover. When a person who spent their youth messing around suddenly gets serious, they can be dangerously sharp. I started as Caden’s personal assistant, which basically meant making tea, fetching coffee, and making copies. It was a bit of an insult to my shiny diploma. A new girl in the secretarial pool, her makeup caked on and her neckline plunging, snatched a cup of coffee from my hands and sashayed into the president’s office. “Mr. Hayes, your coffee.” Caden didn’t even lift his eyes from his screen. “Before you ‘accidentally’ spill that on me, I feel compelled to inform you that my suit and shoes cost a combined total of twenty-three thousand dollars. They are handmade and took three months to complete. Are you quite sure you can afford to replace them?” The girl silently retracted the foot she’d been about to trip with. As she placed the coffee on his desk, she leaned over deliberately. Caden held a handkerchief to his nose. “Is that poison you’re wearing? The fumes are about to trigger my rhinitis.” She fled the office in tears, her makeup streaking down her face. I stood outside the door, trying desperately not to laugh. “Ms. Summers,” he called out. “Your posture is excellent. The military training at your university must have been top-notch.” I stiffened. “It was alright, sir. Thank you for the compliment.” “With form like that, perhaps I should transfer you to the security department?” “No, no, thank you!” “Then what are you waiting for? Get in here.” I made a mental note to call my brother and ask what on earth had happened to Caden over the years. His tongue had become a lethal weapon. Caden leaned back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other, his long fingers tapping a rhythm on the keyboard. His sharp eyes were fixed on the screen, a faint smile on his lips. “Did you write this quarterly report?” My stomach clenched. “Yes, Mr. Hayes.” “It’s very good,” he nodded. I beamed, quickly laying on the praise. “Thank you, sir! I’ll keep working hard.” He looked up at me. “It reads like a damn novel.” My heart shattered. “Rewrite it. I want it on my desk before you leave today.” But backing down wasn’t my style. It was just a report. I could do this. I was still working on it at ten o’clock that night. “Not done yet? You’re writing so slowly you’re making me hungry,” Caden complained from his seat nearby. I was perched on the edge of his leather executive chair, feeling like I was sitting on a bed of nails. An hour later, the takeout he ordered arrived. “Eat first, write later. It’s not like you’re going to finish anytime soon anyway. A few more minutes won’t make a difference.” Could someone please pay to have this man silenced? He was insufferable.

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My sister was dying in childbirth, and my father, a top obstetrician, was the only one who could save her. In my last life, I didn’t hesitate. I called him. After I begged and pleaded, he abandoned his honeymoon with my stepmother and flew back to perform the surgery. My sister, Kerry, was saved. But the good news came with a death sentence for my stepmother. Her depression, they said, had relapsed. She’d thrown herself into the ocean. She left a suicide note, a ten-page manifesto detailing a decade of alleged abuse at our hands. The honeymoon, she wrote, was her last reason to live, and we had destroyed it. My father read the note. He told us he didn’t blame us, his voice a dead, hollow thing. But on the day of my nephew’s one-month celebration, he poisoned everyone’s food. “If it weren’t for you two,” he’d whispered, his face a mask of grief-stricken rage, “Penny would still be alive.” “How could I have raised such venomous daughters? A hundred deaths wouldn’t be enough to atone for what you’ve done.” He held our heads in the toilet bowl until the world went black. I opened my eyes. I was back on the day my sister went into labor. … The first thing I did after being reborn was race to my sister’s house. I was still too late. The moment I pushed the door open, the coppery tang of blood hit me like a physical blow. Kerry was lying on the floor in a rapidly spreading pool of it. My newborn nephew lay in the slick redness beside her, the umbilical cord still attached. My hands shook as I dialed 911. I grabbed a blanket and wrapped the baby in it, trying to keep him warm. The ambulance arrived with screaming sirens, whisking us away to the hospital. Just as they wheeled Kerry and the baby into the emergency room, her husband, Mark, burst in. “Olivia! How is she?” His face was ashen. It was freezing outside, but he was wearing nothing but a dress shirt. He must have dropped everything and run. Before I could answer, a doctor emerged from the trauma bay. He told us Kerry’s condition was critical. She needed immediate surgery, and there were only two surgeons in the region capable of performing it: Dr. Cole Sterling at Metropolitan General, and Dr. Ellis Vance at the State University Hospital. Before Mark could even process the names, I jumped in. “We’ll go to State University. Doctor, please, arrange the transfer—” “Wait, why State?” Mark cut me off, his voice frantic. “Metropolitan General… Cole Sterling, that’s our dad! He’s been Kerry’s doctor this whole time. He knows her case inside and out. We have to go there.” “Dad’s on his honeymoon with Penny,” I said, my voice tight. “We shouldn’t bother them.” In my last life, a single phone call had brought him back. It had saved Kerry, but it had killed our stepmother. The memory of the foul, chemical-laced water flooding my throat was still fresh. I refused to die that way again. “Are you kidding me?” Mark stared at me in disbelief. “What’s more important, a honeymoon or your sister’s life?” He didn’t wait for an answer. He pulled out his phone and dialed. It rang for a long, agonizing time before our father finally picked up, his voice thick with annoyance. “What is it?” Mark quickly explained the situation, his words tumbling over each other as he begged our father to come back. “Dad, Kerry’s in a bad way. A transfer would be too rough on her. Please, just come to this hospital. We’ll get everything ready for you.” Our father doted on Kerry, especially during her pregnancy. The slightest discomfort and he’d have her admitted for observation. Mark was certain he would drop everything and come. He was wrong. “Mark, who put you up to this? Was it Olivia?” Dad’s voice was cold steel. “I can’t believe you’d side with them in bullying Penny like this. I just examined Kerry this morning. Her vitals were perfect. There wasn’t the slightest indication of premature labor. Do you two feel no guilt, pulling a stunt like this just to ruin our trip?” He berated Mark for another thirty seconds before hanging up. Stunned, Mark frantically redialed, again and again. The phone was off. So was Penny’s. The ER doctor reappeared. “Have you made a decision? We’ve stabilized her for now, but we need to move.” With Dad’s phone off, our only option was the more distant State University Hospital. Mark was about to get in the ambulance with Kerry when a nurse rushed out. The baby was in distress and needed to be moved to the NICU immediately. A parent had to stay. His wife and newborn son both in critical condition, Mark looked like he was about to shatter. “Mark,” I said, putting a hand on his arm. “I’ll go with Kerry. You stay here with the baby.” His eyes reddened. He gripped my hand tightly. “Thank you, Liv. Please… just make sure she makes it.” I nodded, my own throat tight. Kerry was five years older than me. Our mother had died giving birth to me, leaving us to navigate the world without her. With Dad always busy at work, we had only ever had each other. She was the most important person in my life. Even so, seeing her on the gurney, ashen and unconscious, a fresh wave of tears streamed down my face. The entire way, I talked to her, a constant stream of prayers and memories, begging her to hold on. A police escort cleared the way, turning an hour-long drive into forty minutes. When we arrived, Dr. Vance was still in surgery. He’d told me to go to the ward and have the head nurse admit Kerry so she could be prepped. He would operate the second he was free. But when we got to the maternity ward, a nurse blocked our path. “There are no beds,” she said flatly. “But we called ahead,” I pleaded. “We spoke with Dr. Vance. He said to admit her.” The young nurse rolled her eyes. “Dr. Vance is a surgeon, he doesn’t know the situation on the floor. We’re completely full. I don’t care if you know the Chief of Staff, it wouldn’t make a bed appear out of thin air.” Tears of frustration pricked my eyes. I spotted an empty gurney in the hallway. “Can’t she just stay on this? We just need a place, any place. Please, miss, help us. My sister is bleeding out. Only Dr. Vance can save her.” The nurse glanced at the still form on the gurney, then shrugged. “I’m just a staff nurse. I can’t authorize an overflow bed. You’ll have to talk to the head nurse.” She gave a subtle nod toward the office down the hall. I understood. I rushed over and pushed the door open. The woman at the desk looked up, and I gasped in relief. “Helen!” It was Helen Croft, one of my mother’s oldest colleagues and dearest friends. After Mom died, she’d visited us often. Before she could speak, I grabbed her arm like a lifeline. “Helen, please, you have to help me get my sister admitted. She’s had a placental abruption, she’s hemorrhaging. She needs surgery now.” But the woman I remembered as being so kind and gentle looked at me with a cold, unfamiliar expression. She pulled her arm away. “Olivia, I can’t believe you’d bring this act all the way here. Take your sister and go home. Your father is a respected name in this hospital. This kind of stunt is humiliating for him.” Her words were a physical blow. My ears started ringing. “What are you talking about? My sister is really sick. If you don’t believe me, just come and look.” I tried to pull her toward the door. If she just saw Kerry, she would understand. “Olivia, I’m very busy. I don’t have time for your games.” She sighed, her tone shifting from irritation to stern disappointment. “Your father just called me. He said you and your sister were trying to sabotage his honeymoon. I know you don’t like your stepmother, but she’s raised you for ten years. It can’t have been easy. I heard she suffers from depression. You can’t bully her like this. A hospital is not a stage for your family drama. Take your sister and leave.” I felt myself starting to crumble. If my father were here, I would have screamed at him. I couldn’t believe he would be so cruel, so thorough—knowing we’d have to come here, he’d called ahead to poison the well. But this wasn’t the time for anger. “Helen, you’re mistaken. We’re not lying. My sister really is hemorrhaging. I’ve been in contact with Dr. Vance. If you don’t believe me, please, just call him.” Helen’s face was a mask of disappointment. “Olivia, this has gone too far. You’re dragging Dr. Vance into this now? Do you have any idea how important his current surgery is? What if your call distracts him? What if his hand slips? A young woman could lose her ability to ever have children because of your selfishness. Medical resources are not toys for you to play with. You should call Dr. Vance and apologize immediately.” The girl on her operating table was young, but so was my sister. And the ER doctor’s words echoed in my head: if Kerry wasn’t in surgery within two hours, she would die. Without a second thought, I dropped to my knees. “Helen, please,” I begged, the words catching in my throat. “I’m not lying. My sister is really dying. Please, just let her in.” I bowed my head and touched my forehead to the cold linoleum floor. Once. Twice. Helen was taken aback. Her harsh expression softened for a fraction of a second. She was about to say something, to maybe come and see for herself, when the office door burst open. A young nurse poked her head in. “Head Nurse, are we admitting that patient or not? They’re blocking the entrance, and now they’re arguing with another patient’s family.” Helen and I rushed out together. The paramedics who had brought Kerry were in a heated argument with another family whose path they’d blocked. Helen quickly intervened, calming the other family down and sending them back to their room. Then, she marched straight toward me. “Helen, please, can you admit her now?” I asked, hope flickering. She raised her hand and slapped me across the face. The sting was sharp and shocking. “What kind of actors did you hire?” she hissed. “They have no class, no consideration. Don’t they know this is a hospital full of sick people? Get these people out of here now, or I’m calling security.” My cheek burned. “How could you hit me?” “I’m your elder,” she snapped, her eyes blazing. “Aren’t you ashamed of yourself, causing such a scene? You were born, but you were never raised. You can tell you grew up without a mother.” No mother. I’d heard it my whole life, but it had never cut so deep. Did being motherless mean my words were worthless? Did it mean my sister didn’t deserve to be saved? I knew arguing was pointless. I wiped my tears away. “Fine. Fine, Helen. You won’t help us. But someone in this hospital will. I’m going to find the hospital director and ask him if he plans on letting my sister die in his hallway.” Seeing I was serious, Helen panicked. She had two nurses block my path. She turned and spoke into her walkie-talkie. “Security to Maternity. We have a disturbance. I need them removed immediately.” Security arrived in under three minutes. With a wave of Helen’s hand, they began to push us—me, the paramedics, and my dying sister on her gurney—toward the exit. I clung to the gurney, my sobs echoing down the hall. “You can’t do this! Isn’t this a hospital? Don’t you save lives? My sister is dying right in front of you and you won’t even look at her! How can you call yourselves angels of mercy?” My desperate cries drew a crowd of onlookers. Even the two young nurses looked shaken. “Head Nurse,” one of them ventured, “I don’t think they’re acting. The woman on the gurney… she hasn’t moved at all. She really looks like she’s unconscious.” “Her color is terrible,” the other added. “Maybe… maybe you should just take a quick look before we—” Helen hesitated, a flicker of doubt crossing her face. She took a step toward the gurney. Just then, her phone rang. She answered it. “Dr. Sterling? Yes, I’m here. Your daughters? Yes, they’re making quite a scene.” My heart sank. It was my father. The hallway was suddenly silent. His voice, tinny through the phone’s speaker, was audible to everyone. “They already caused a scene at the other hospital. All my colleagues are calling me, asking me to come back. Penny’s blood pressure is through the roof from the stress. I’m bringing her to your hospital now for a check-up. Get rid of them. I don’t want her to see them and get upset.” I finally snapped. “Cole Sterling, are you insane?” I shrieked. “Your daughter is dying! If you won’t save her, fine, but why are you stopping anyone else from helping? What if she dies right here?” His reply was a cold, dead laugh. “Then let her die. I don’t want daughters like you anyway.” He hung up. I heard someone in the crowd gasp. What kind of father says that? Helen’s face was a stony mask. She walked toward me. “Olivia, you heard him. Stop upsetting your father and your aunt. They’ve been through enough.” Just as she finished speaking, a woman in the crowd screamed. “Oh my God! So much blood!” Helen and I whipped our heads around. The white blanket covering my sister was now soaked in a deep, dark crimson. Blood was dripping from the gurney, flowing down its metal legs. A pool of it was forming on the linoleum floor.

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My father was dying in ICU, each heartbeat adding to the mounting bills. I called my husband Bruce—Wall Street star and trustee of our billion-dollar family trust. “Dad needs five million for treatment,” I pleaded. “Impossible,” his voice chilled. “Medical care isn’t a priority expenditure.” Minutes later, an anonymous email arrived. Attached: trust ledgers showing $2 million yearly payments to a woman named Serena… and a photo of Bruce’s three-year-old carbon copy. The ICU monitor screamed. As my father flatlined, bloody tears burned my cheeks. Bruce killed my father with financial rules. Now I’ll use those same rules to bury him. 01 My father’s funeral was set for three days later. The funeral home’s air conditioning was glacial, but it couldn’t touch the fire of rage burning in my bones. The director approached me, a bill in his hand. “Ms. Caldwell, the total comes to eighty-eight thousand dollars. How would you…” I nodded, pulling out my phone to contact the trust’s bank. The entire hundred-billion-dollar Caldwell fortune was locked away in an offshore trust Bruce had set up. The bank manager’s voice was clipped and professional. “I’m sorry, Ms. Caldwell. As per the trust agreement, any large withdrawals must be personally authorized by the trustee, Mr. Medlin.” “My father just died. This is for his funeral!” “We understand your distress, Ms. Caldwell, but Mr. Medlin has given specific instructions to implement risk control against what he terms your ‘irrational spending’.” Risk control? My father was dead, and he wanted to talk about risk control? I hung up, a burning pain searing my chest, the coppery taste of blood rising in my throat. On the day of the funeral, I stood in the center of the chapel, a specter in black. My father’s portrait watched over me with a look of sorrowful pity. Bruce, of course, arrived late. And he wasn’t alone. His arm was wrapped securely around Serena’s waist. She wore a loose, flowing Chanel maternity dress, her belly swollen and prominent. Tightly clutching her hand was the three-year-old boy from the photo—the one with Bruce’s eyes. The chapel fell into a dead silence. I stalked towards them, my voice a blade of ice. “What are they doing here?” Bruce casually brushed a piece of lint from his suit, a smirk playing on his lips. “Grace, don’t make a scene. It’s an honor for Serena and Kimi to be here, to pay their respects to Arthur.” “You shameless bastard! You used my father’s money—his life—to support your mistress and your son. You—” Serena quickly covered the boy’s ears, shrinking into Bruce’s embrace with a look of feigned terror. “Grace, please, you’re scaring him… Bruce…” Bruce patted her back soothingly before turning his cold gaze on me. “Watch yourself, Grace. This isn’t the place to act like a hysteric.” I fought back the inferno of rage, pointing a trembling finger at the waiting funeral director. “The bill. It needs your authorization.” Bruce let out a short, cruel laugh. “I refuse.” “What did you say?” “The core principle of the trust is asset appreciation,” he said, his voice dripping with condescension. “The dead are a depreciating asset. Any further investment yields a zero-percent return.” He then looked down, his expression softening as he gently caressed Serena’s pregnant belly. “I, on the other hand, have a duty to invest in the next generation. Now that is a quality asset.” All the blood in my body rushed to my head. “You’re a monster, Bruce!” I swung my hand to slap him, but he caught my wrist in a vice-like grip. “Are you trying to get yourself committed, Grace?” he hissed, shoving me away. Serena leaned against his shoulder, her voice a saccharine whisper. “Bruce, don’t be so harsh. She’s grieving. She just doesn’t understand finance.” Bruce snorted. “Ignorance has a price. The world of finance has no time for tears.” The funeral was a rushed, hollow affair. As I stood clutching my father’s cold, heavy urn, Bruce intercepted me at the exit, holding out a document. Voluntary Waiver of Inheritance Rights. “Sign it,” he commanded. I stared at him, my heart turning to stone. “Do you have to be so utterly ruthless?” Suddenly, Serena gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. A massive, pigeon’s-blood ruby on her finger caught the light, blinding me. “Oh, my,” she murmured. “This light…” She gave me a sly look. “Bruce bought it for me with the trust’s quarterly dividends. He said I deserved some compensation for the emotional distress of Arthur’s passing.” My father’s death was her excuse for a new diamond? Bruce didn’t just hand me the document; he slapped it right on top of my father’s urn. “Your emotional instability makes you unfit to manage these assets, Grace.” “Sign it,” he warned, his voice low and menacing. “Or I’ll make sure you and that urn end up on the street.” I clutched the wooden box, my nails digging into the polished surface. He used the clean, precise language of his profession to commit the filthiest acts imaginable. The law, morality—they were just tools to him. To kill a wolf from Wall Street, I realized, you had to become a bigger, more vicious wolf. 02 I sold every piece of jewelry I owned just to give my father a proper burial. Back in our house, I stormed into his study. The desk was piled high with trust documents—a labyrinth of Cayman Islands double-decker structures, irrevocable powers of attorney, and sole trustee clauses. I once thought these were shields. I now saw they were a cage. For five years, Bruce had always said the same thing: “Grace, leave the complicated stuff to me. Your only job is to enjoy life.” And I had. While I was enjoying life, he was taking everything else. I had to find a loophole. The next day, I went to the top floor of the Caldwell Industries building. As I pushed open the door to the CEO’s office, I was hit by a wave of an aggressive, woodsy cologne. Bruce’s scent. The office was unrecognizable. My father’s rich mahogany furniture, his collection of classic art—all gone. In its place was a sterile landscape of black, white, and chrome. A team of workers was hauling out what they considered trash. There, on top of a dumpster, I saw a familiar frame. A photo of the three of us: my father, my mother, and me. A happy family. I ran, plunging my hand into the heap to retrieve it, slicing my fingertips on the shattered glass. “What are you doing here?” Bruce’s voice cut through the air. He emerged from the office, a cup of coffee in hand. “This was my father’s office!” Bruce took a sip, unfazed. “To be precise, it’s the CEO’s office. And I am the current CEO.” He gestured dismissively at the pile of my father’s belongings. “Inefficient nostalgia is poison to corporate management.” He strode over, snatched the ruined photograph from my hand, tore it in two, and tossed the pieces back onto the pile. “These are all non-performing assets. They need to be liquidated.” My heart seized. He didn’t just want the money. He wanted to erase every trace of my father’s existence. “You ungrateful bastard! If it wasn’t for my father—” “Shut up!” Bruce snapped, a flash of genuine anger in his eyes before it was replaced by contempt. “My expertise multiplied this family’s assets tenfold. I’m only taking what I’ve earned as my performance fee.” He produced another document. “The Estate Tax Optimization Plan. Sign it.” I scanned the pages. It was a plan to transfer the core shareholdings of Caldwell Industries to one of his offshore shell corporations. “I will not sign this.” For once, Bruce didn’t get angry. He simply reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded sonogram picture. He gazed at the blurry image, a rare hint of warmth touching his lips. “Serena’s having another boy.” He looked up at me, his eyes turning to ice. “You fool. Do you have any idea how much this plan will save us in taxes? We’re talking nine figures.” He leaned in closer. “My sons deserve the best possible future.” He framed his theft as professionalism, my resistance as incompetence. “You make me sick, Bruce.” “Sick?” He chuckled. “The market only cares about results.” He loomed over me. “Sign it.” I grabbed the sheaf of papers and threw them in his face. “Get out!” The documents fluttered to the floor. Bruce calmly straightened his tie. “You’ll regret this, Grace. Emotional decisions always carry the highest cost.” He turned and pressed the intercom on his desk. “Security, please escort Ms. Caldwell from the premises. And revoke her building access, effective immediately.” 03 I was thrown out of the company my father had built. Standing on the pavement beneath the towering skyscraper, I was a walking joke. I needed a lawyer. But after three days and hundreds of calls, every major law firm in the city turned me down. Bruce had already poisoned the well, spreading rumors that my father’s death had left me mentally unstable. He was trying to erase me from society itself. I tried to hail a cab to the next firm on my list, but the driver accepted the ride and then immediately canceled. A moment later, a text from my bank flashed on my screen: ALERT: Your credit card has been suspended due to high-risk activity. Please contact the issuing bank. All my cards were supplementary cards on his account. He was cutting off my oxygen. I was penniless. I couldn’t even afford a cab fare or a legal consultation. My phone buzzed again. It was an e-vite from Bruce. A Celebration of New Life Gala. To celebrate Serena’s pregnancy. The location: our villa at the summit of Aspen Ridge. Our marital home. I remembered when we were renovating it, Bruce had whispered, “This is where our future begins.” Now, it was the stage for his “new life.” At the bottom of the invitation, in tiny font, was a line: This event is graciously sponsored by the Caldwell Family Trust. He was using my family’s money, in my home, to celebrate his child with another woman. Just then, a courier approached me. “Ms. Caldwell? A package for you.” I opened the box. Inside was a lavish, custom-made Italian maternity gown. Beneath it lay a check for a hundred thousand dollars. The card was in Serena’s looping script: Grace, darling. Bruce mentioned you’ve fallen on hard times, and a girl’s got to have a little pocket money. This was a bit too snug for me, but maybe you can use it. It’s so important for a woman to take care of herself. It wasn’t a gift. It was a slow, deliberate twist of the knife. Bile rose in my throat. I tore the check into a thousand tiny pieces. I couldn’t just wait to die. I returned to my father’s study, the one room Bruce hadn’t yet defiled. I had to find something to sell, even if it meant pawning my father’s mementos. As I pulled open a drawer, my hand closed around an old fountain pen. As I was about to add it to the “sell” box, I felt a faint rattle from within its barrel. I unscrewed the pen. A tiny micro-USB drive fell out. With trembling hands, I plugged it into my laptop. The password was my mother’s birthday. The screen flickered to life. My father’s face appeared, etched with weariness. “Grace, if you’re seeing this, it means I’m gone.” “I let a wolf into our home, sweetheart. I was wrong. Bruce’s ambition… it’s a darkness I never could have imagined.” “The usual legal channels are useless against him. To fight a wolf like Bruce, you need to hire an even bigger wolf.” “Go to Wall Street. Find a man named Lister.” “He was once my rival, and he is Bruce’s sworn enemy. They call him the Vulture of Wall Street for a reason. He’s ruthless. But he owes me a favor.” “Tell him Arthur Caldwell sent you to collect a debt.” The video ended. I wiped the tears from my face. This was no longer just my fight. It was my father’s, too. I dialed the international number. “Yeah?” a gruff voice answered. “Mr. Lister? My name is Grace Caldwell, Arthur Caldwell’s daughter. My father told me to find you. It’s about Bruce Medlin.” There was a pause on the other end, then a low, dry chuckle. “Bruce Medlin? That sanctimonious prick.” “He’s stolen my family’s billion-dollar fortune, locked it in a complex offshore trust.” “Offshore, you say? Interesting.” “I need your help. But… I can’t afford your fees right now.” “Money’s not the issue,” Lister cut me off. “The opportunity to watch Bruce Medlin’s empire burn to the ground? That’s the best payment I could ask for.” “Send me everything you have. I love taking down a well-manicured house of cards.” “Congratulations, Ms. Caldwell. You just found yourself an ally who’s willing to go to hell and back with you.” 04 Lister’s team was brutally efficient. Twenty-four hours later, he sent me a preliminary analysis. “Your situation is worse than I thought,” he said over a secure video call. “Bruce’s trust structure is a perfect, self-contained loop. By the time you win a case in the Cayman Islands, the money will have been laundered a dozen times over.” My heart sank into a frozen pit. “But,” Lister said, a predatory grin spreading across his face, “he got greedy.” “To gain absolute control, he named himself both the sole trustee and the sole protector. It means if something happens to him, the entire structure collapses.” “We need seed money to start the attack,” Lister said, pulling up another file. “I found a joint emergency fund account under both your names. Swiss bank. Twenty million dollars.” Twenty million. I remembered it. “It requires two-factor authentication from both of you,” Lister warned. “I know.” I knew all of Bruce’s passwords. He was arrogant, always using the same set of numbers. Our anniversary, his birthday, and… Serena’s birthday. I took a deep breath and logged into the Swiss bank’s portal. I entered the account number and my own security code. Please enter the Trustee’s dynamic authentication code. Our anniversary. Incorrect. Serena’s birthday. Incorrect. My heart hammered against my ribs. Wait. The son. Kimi. I entered the boy’s estimated birthday. Authentication Successful! I quickly typed in the transfer amount: 20,000,000. My pulse thundered in my ears as I clicked “Confirm.” The screen refreshed: “Transaction processing…” I’d done it! I had the ammunition I needed to fight back! A three-minute timer appeared on the screen. 60 seconds… 30 seconds… Suddenly, my phone erupted with notifications. Not a transfer confirmation, but a fraud alert. WARNING: Your account has triggered a high-risk transaction alert. The account has been permanently frozen. Frozen? How? I’d passed the authentication! My phone rang again. It was Bruce. I answered, my hand shaking. “Good evening, darling,” he purred, his voice dripping with the playful cruelty of a cat toying with a mouse. “That was you.” “I have to admit, you’re a little smarter than I gave you credit for. Guessing Kimi’s birthday was a nice touch.” “But you’re so naive, Grace.” “In the world of high-stakes finance, any loophole you can see easily is a trap.” My head was spinning. “What are you talking about?” “I left that account open on purpose, my dear. A little test of your greed and stupidity. I set up a reverse-trigger alert. Any large transfer attempt that bypasses my direct approval automatically triggers a maximum-level security protocol and freezes the account. Permanently.” He let out a low chuckle. “Only I can unlock it now. You idiot.” I felt the world tilt on its axis. I hadn’t just failed to get the money; I had sealed off my last escape route. “Thank you, Grace,” Bruce said, his voice light and airy. “You’ve just saved me the headache of splitting our marital assets.” “Oh, and by the way, half an hour ago, in my capacity as CEO of Caldwell Industries, I ordered a forced liquidation of all the company’s key stock holdings. The cash has already been moved.” “As of now, the liquid capital of Caldwell Industries is zero.”

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I was born with two hearts. It was the only thing about me that ever pleased my parents. Because my brother was born with a congenital heart defect. They had me for one reason: to keep my brother alive. Then I met Stella. We fell in love, we got married. She pulled me from the abyss of my family’s conditional love and saved me. I thought she was different. But when my brother’s heart began to fail, she became obsessed with the idea of me donating one of my hearts to him. She didn’t know that I only had one heart left. My other one was already inside her. 1. “It’s just one heart. Why are you being so selfish?” “Weren’t you born for the sole purpose of keeping your brother alive?” Stella’s grip on my arm was like a vice. “But I want to live, too,” I pleaded. “Without a heart, I’ll die.” Her face hardened. “You have two hearts. You give one away, you still have one left. You’ll live.” “But your brother is different. Without your heart, he dies.” Ignoring my struggles, she pushed me toward the pre-op room. “I only have one heart now,” I explained, my voice desperate. “You saw the test results.” She wouldn’t listen. “Who knows what you did to fake those results? Bribing the lab technicians so you wouldn’t have to save him.” She thought I had faked the report. “No, Stella, that’s not it. I had surgery when I was a child. I already donated one of my hearts.” “Enough, Adrian! This is about saving your brother. Why are you being so stubborn?” She cut me off before I could finish. “I’m not lying,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “My heart is inside you.” But she wasn’t listening. She had already turned and walked toward my brother’s room. 2. The other doctors in the prep room stared at us, dumbfounded. “Talking sweet nothings at a time like this?” one of them muttered. “How disgusting.” “His brother is on the verge of death, and he’s over here hitting on his sister-in-law.” Only our families knew that Stella and I were married. Her colleagues had never met me. And since Stella had handled all of Casper’s hospital arrangements herself, everyone in the department assumed he was her husband. Stella never corrected them. “Exactly. Instead of saving his own brother, he’s trying to seduce the man’s wife.” “What a waste of a good heart.” I heard their whispers and couldn’t stop myself from trying to tell them the truth. “Actually, I’m the one who’s—” Stella emerged from Casper’s room and grabbed my hand. “You are donating your heart today. That’s final.” “Your brother is already in the operating room. You’re next.” She produced a stack of papers. “I’ve already signed the consent forms. All you have to do is get on the table.” In the operating room, I saw Casper. He looked frail and weak, a picture of suffering that elicited sympathy from everyone present. “Don’t you worry,” a doctor told him reassuringly. “Your wife, Dr. Hayes, will make sure you live a long, healthy life.” Casper didn’t correct the title. He just gave a weak, saintly smile. “It’s all my fault,” he murmured, his voice full of false regret. “Making my brother sacrifice so much for me.” He looked at me, and for a split second, I saw a flash of triumph in his eyes. The other doctors melted. My brother was a saint; I was a monster. Stella soothed Casper, then turned to me. She ignored my frantic struggles, forcing me onto the operating table and ordering the anesthesiologist to administer the sedative. A moment later, my struggling ceased. Stella’s fingers brushed my cheek. “Don’t worry,” she whispered. “I’ll make sure you live.” Her mentor had performed a successful heart transplant once, so she was confident she could keep me alive. “After your brother recovers, our whole family will finally accept you. And I’ll be right by your side, always.” 3. The surgery began, a tense and orderly dance of steel and flesh. After a long while, Stella lifted a heart from my body. Without a second glance, she rushed with it into Casper’s operating room. My chest was an open cavity. My body lay alone on the cold table. The shrill, flatline alarm of the heart monitor startled the attending nurse. “He’s dead? I thought he had two hearts.” “You actually believed what Dr. Hayes said?” another nurse scoffed. “She was just trying to get him on the table.” “Good riddance, then. He deserved it. Not only did he refuse to save his own brother, Dr. Hayes’s husband, but he was trying to seduce her, too.” “So, what do we do now?” “He’s dead. Just wait for someone to claim the body. If no one does, the morgue can deal with it.” With that, they all left the room. Stella, meanwhile, was completely focused on Casper’s surgery. She was confident, but it was her first transplant. After several grueling hours, she finished, the procedure a success. She followed Casper to his recovery room, staying by his side until he was stable. Only then did she remember me. As she headed back to my supposed recovery room, she ran into one of her colleagues in the hallway. “How is my husband?” she asked. The colleague thought for a moment. “He should be back in his room by now. Don’t worry, the nurses will keep a close eye on him for you. We’ll take good care of your husband.” Stella didn’t register the ambiguity in the words. She just felt relieved. Of course, she thought. They all know he’s my husband. They’ll look after him. Satisfied, she returned to her office to catch up on work. A day later, Casper woke up. Stella was right there. “Casper, you’re finally awake.” He saw her and burst into tears of overwhelming joy. 4. Stella wrapped her arms around him. “It’s okay. The surgery was a complete success.” “Your heart won’t give you any more trouble.” Casper touched his chest, a look of disbelief on his face. The disease that had plagued him for years was finally gone. He clung to Stella, weeping. “Don’t get too emotional,” she cautioned gently, rubbing his back. “You need to rest.” A nurse passing by smiled. “Dr. Hayes, you take such good care of your husband.” Stella froze. She remembered me, supposedly in another room down the hall. “Oh, you’ve misunderstood,” she began. “He’s not—” Casper chose that moment to clutch his chest, his face contorting in pain, cutting her off. “I told you not to cry,” she said, her attention immediately diverted. “You need to rest if you want to recover.” Seeing Casper like this, she suddenly thought of me again. She hadn’t seen me since the surgery. “Casper, you get some rest. I’m going to check on Adrian.” She started to get up, but Casper’s hand shot out and grabbed hers. “I had this surgery without telling Mom and Dad. This is the most critical part of my recovery. I’m scared to be alone. What if something goes wrong?” Seeing his pale, frightened face, her heart softened. The other doctors and nurses will look after Adrian, she reasoned. He’ll be fine. “Alright,” she sighed, sitting back down. “I’ll stay with you for a few more days.” Casper watched her settle in before slowly closing his eyes, a faint smile on his lips. In the hospital morgue, an orderly stared at my body with frustration. “It’s been two days and no one’s come to claim him. What are we supposed to do?” “What are you looking at?” another orderly grumbled, cleaning up. “Let’s just get this done so we can go home.” Together, they unceremoniously shoved my body into a bag. “Looked like he had a rough death. Probably wasn’t a good person.” “Good, bad, they all turn to ash the same.” “True. Still a shame, though. So young.” 5. Two more days passed. Casper’s recovery was going well, and Stella finally remembered me. She walked to my room, but it was empty. A nurse was stripping the bed. “The patient in this room—where is he?” The nurse looked up. “Oh, Dr. Hayes. He was discharged.” A flicker of annoyance went through Stella. He just had major surgery, and he’s already checked himself out? Where did he go? She pulled out her phone and dialed my number. It went straight to voicemail. “Fine!” she muttered, furious. “If you want to run off and die somewhere, don’t come crying to me!” She stormed back to Casper’s room. He sensed her anger immediately. “Is Adrian still angry? He won’t forgive me, will he?” he asked, his voice full of concern. “It’s all my fault. I’ll go talk to him right now. I don’t want you two to have a misunderstanding because of me.” He made a show of trying to get out of bed. Stella rushed to stop him. “Don’t worry about him. You just focus on getting better. Mom and Dad will be so happy when they hear the good news on the day you’re discharged.” “As for Adrian,” she added, her voice hard, “he’s not going to die. He’s already left the hospital.” She remembered how I had begged her before the surgery, and a knot of resentment tightened in her chest. We’re brothers, she thought. How could he be so heartless? Looking at Casper, so considerate and kind, she felt a fresh wave of disappointment in me. If Adrian wants to be stubborn and leave, fine. Let him cool off. It’s not too late for him to show up when Casper is discharged. In the doctors’ lounge, her colleagues were laughing and joking. The moment she walked in, they all went silent. Stella felt a prickle of unease. “What were you all talking about?” 6. No one spoke. After a long moment, a fellow surgeon put an arm around her shoulders. “What else? We were just saying what a devoted couple you two are.” Stella thought of me, of how I had been forced to give up a heart. He does love me deeply, she thought, a flicker of warmth cutting through her anger. He was forced, yes, but he did it for me. He saved a life. In that moment, she forgave my sudden disappearance. But the fact that I wasn’t answering her calls still stung. Her colleague noticed her troubled expression. “Is your husband in a bad mood?” Stella didn’t answer. “He just had major surgery,” the colleague continued. “It’s normal for him to be a little down. Just be patient with him. Do something to cheer him up.” The words made sense. Stella’s expression softened. She remembered how much I loved the pastries from the bakery near our apartment. She decided to go home after her shift. She walked into our apartment, holding the box of pastries. “Honey? I bought your favorite.” Silence. She set the box down and saw it: the divorce agreement I had left on the table a week ago. I had drawn it up the moment she told me I had to donate my heart. Stella stared at the papers in disbelief. Is he serious? Over one heart? He’s willing to divorce me over this? She angrily threw the box of pastries into the trash. “If you don’t want this home, then don’t ever come back!” Just then, her phone rang. “Stella, dear? Do you know where Adrian has been?” It was my father. It was rare for him to call, rarer still for him to ask about me. His world usually revolved around Casper. An idea sparked in Stella’s mind. My parents were the only ones who could force me out of hiding. And Casper was almost fully recovered. So she told my father about the surgery. 7. My parents rushed to the hospital that night. The moment Casper saw them, his tears began to flow. The three of them clung to each other, a portrait of a loving family reunited after a crisis. “Where’s your brother?” my mother finally asked. “He’s in the same department, why isn’t he here to see you?” Casper hesitated. “He’s already been discharged.” My mother scoffed, her arms still wrapped around him. “Discharged? He must be in great shape to leave so soon after surgery. Let’s hope he doesn’t drop dead out there.” My father shot her a warning look. “Don’t say that. Casper’s had the surgery, but there’s no guarantee there won’t be complications later. What will we do if Adrian dies?” My mother slapped her own mouth. “Tsk, tsk, you’re right. If anyone’s going to die, it should be after Casper is safe.” She turned back to her favored son. “Don’t worry, Casper. Mom and Dad will always protect you.” A wave of warmth washed over him. The next day, Stella walked into the room to find this cozy family scene. It felt… wrong. She had never seen my parents look at me with such affection. “Stella, you’re here! We can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for Casper’s heart.” They were full of gratitude for her, but they didn’t mention my name once. Stella asked if they had heard from me. The question soured their mood instantly. “Why bother with him? He’s been discharged, which means he’s fine. We should be focusing on Casper.” “Casper has always been so frail. Adrian, on the other hand, is strong as an ox.” My parents had always wanted to set Casper up with Stella, but his health had been an obstacle. Now, with me out of the picture, their path was clear. Before Stella could respond, a colleague poked her head in. “Dr. Hayes, you’re so good to your husband. You’re here with him every day.” My parents beamed, assuming the charade had become reality. A faint blush colored Casper’s cheeks. But Stella’s face flushed with anger. “Who told you he’s my husband?” 8. The colleague, oblivious to Stella’s fury, just laughed. “Oh, come on, everyone in the department knows. You don’t have to pretend.” She bustled out of the room, off to her next task. My parents grabbed Stella’s arm. “Stella, dear, Adrian’s not here right now. If the staff thinks Casper is your husband, they’ll take better care of him.” Stella saw the pained look on Casper’s face and swallowed her anger. Back in her office, she was about to confront her colleague when she was told her old mentor had arrived. She rushed to the chief of medicine’s office. The moment she saw Dr. Peterson, she threw her arms around him. “Professor! It’s been so long. How have you been?” He smiled, looking her over. “I hear you’ve performed a heart transplant. The student has surpassed the master.” He then reminisced about the surgery he had performed on her when she was just a little girl, and how proud he was that she had followed in his footsteps. Stella froze. “What surgery, professor?” He looked surprised. “The heart transplant, of course. The one you had as a child.” Just then, someone burst into the office. “Dr. Hayes, quick! The family in room 32 is fighting!” Room 32. Casper’s room. She bolted out the door. She arrived to the sound of shouting. “Don’t you dare deny it! My nephew donated his heart to your daughter!” Stella pushed her way through the crowd. Her mother was there, her eyes red and tearful. The woman who had been shouting saw Stella and pointed a finger at her. “It was you! My nephew Adrian’s heart—it’s inside you!” Stella stared at the woman, her mind reeling. And then, a memory surfaced, a whisper from the past. My own voice, saying, “My heart is inside you.”

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The first day of college, I fell for the campus tyrant at first sight. But I never dared to get close. After all, he was the son of the university’s biggest donor. And I was just a scholarship kid who would starve without financial aid. I thought it would be a quiet, four-year crush, a secret I’d carry alone. Then, the most popular girl in our class, Melinda, accused me of stealing her lipstick. The campus tyrant, Robert, looked at me with disgust. “So your parents are poor. Does that mean they never taught you not to steal?” He was right. My parents had never taught me that. They died when I was very young. Because of that incident, I was forced to drop out. Years later, I heard a rumor. That same campus tyrant, in his senior year, had to take a leave of absence due to severe depression. A depression that lasted for ten years. 1 Everyone was convinced I had used Melinda’s lipstick. It was during gym class, and I was the only one who had stayed behind in the classroom. They twisted the tube, revealing the lipstick bullet, which had been worn down into a strange, curved shape. “Never used lipstick before, have you? What kind of pig mouth do you have to ruin it like this?” one of them sneered. Melinda tossed it aside in disgust. “It’s so gross.” Robert, who was standing with her, frowned, his eyes filled with undisguised contempt. Suddenly, someone piped up. “Melinda, you should check the rest of your stuff. If she’d steal your lipstick, who knows what else she took.” “Yeah! I mean, you need a full face of makeup to go with the lipstick, right?” The group erupted in laughter. But Robert stopped Melinda as she reached for her bag. “Don’t bother. Just check her bag. She probably has other people’s stuff in there, too.” Before I could react, someone grabbed my backpack and dumped everything out onto the floor. A pile of worn-out secondhand books and a crumpled stack of one-dollar bills spilled out. My face burned with shame as I knelt to gather my things. Suddenly, a pair of expensive leather shoes stepped on a small, red notebook. “What’s this?” “Don’t touch that!” I screamed at Melinda. But my shout only made her grip the notebook tighter. 2 “Dear Robert,” she began to read aloud, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. “Today is the eighteenth day of my secret crush on you. I saw you had a stomachache, so I tucked some medicine into your textbook. I hope you find it.” “Dear Robert, today is your birthday, and it’s also been six months since I started crushing on you. I just paid my rent and only have seventeen dollars left, so I couldn’t buy you those limited-edition sneakers, but I got you a pair of socks. I hope you like them.” … Melinda read on, one entry after another. My face felt like it was on fire. The only person more mortified than me was Robert. His face was as dark as thunder. “Deaaar Robert,” someone mimicked. “Rooobert,” another jeered. The room filled with snickering. Someone pointed at Robert’s feet. “Dude, I was wondering why your style took a nosedive lately. Don’t tell me those are the socks she gave you.” “Look, there are even initials embroidered on them! Oh my god, I’m dying.” Robert’s irritation was palpable. He kicked off his shoes, ripped the socks off his feet, and shoved them back into my bag. “Don’t ever give me crap like this again.” Tears instantly stung my eyes. He slipped his shoes back on his bare feet and stormed out of the classroom, his face a furious mask. A few steps later, he came back, tore the pages about him from my notebook right in front of everyone, and threw the shredded paper in my face. “And don’t ever like me again,” he spat. “It’s embarrassing.” Through the blur of my tears, I saw him frantically wiping his hands, as if touching the paper had contaminated him. I just wanted to disappear, to escape this nightmare. But as I tried to leave, Melinda stuck her foot out and tripped me. “You think you can just steal my lipstick and get away with it?” “It really wasn’t me.” Before Melinda could respond, Robert shot back, his voice sharp. “So your parents don’t give you money. Does that mean they never taught you not to take what isn’t yours?” The tears I’d been holding back finally fell. He was right. My parents had never taught me that. Because they were long dead. 3 “Stealing and now you’re playing the victim? If your parents won’t teach you how to behave, society will.” Melinda stood up, grabbing the lipstick and advancing toward me. I scrambled backward, but her friends grabbed me and held me down. The lipstick moved across my face, cold and waxy. When she was done, four words were scrawled across my cheeks. 【I AM A THIEF.】 As she drew the last stroke, the classroom erupted in cheers. A few people even took out their phones to take pictures from every angle. Melinda’s eyes were dark and wide. I’d seen it in movies before—the way a villain’s pupils dilate when they’re doing something evil. “Don’t think this is over,” she said, her voice low. “This lipstick cost eighty dollars. I expect a new one from you in three days.” Eighty dollars?! That was my entire living allowance for half a year. Seeing the tears welling in my eyes, her smile grew wider. I scrambled toward her, my voice trembling. “It wasn’t me… it really wasn’t…” Her patience wore thin. She shoved me away. “Then why didn’t you go to gym class? Funny how that worked out, huh?” “Yeah! Who else could it have been?” “Tell us!” I clenched my fists, the thought of that eighty dollars burning in my mind. “Because… because my shoes are broken.” The classroom fell silent. Every eye in the room fell to my feet. The sole of my worn-out canvas shoe was peeling away, hanging on by a thread, as if it was about to detach completely. A snort of laughter broke the silence. And then everyone was laughing. The bell rang, and the nightmare finally ended. As Robert returned to his seat, he bumped my shoulder. It was the second time he had ever touched me. 4 Robert wasn’t a bad person. At least, I didn’t think so before. At the beginning of the semester, a few students had bullied me for being poor. They’d post passive-aggressive things online, saying the classroom stank of my poverty. I was heartbroken back then. I spent a whole afternoon with my head on my desk, crying. Robert had walked over. He gently patted my head and said softly, “It’s not your fault.” My eyelashes fluttered. He immediately pulled his hand back and walked away. When did things change? It must have been when I offended Melinda, the social queen of our year. I don’t know what she did, but soon, the entire class turned against me. At first, Robert would still message me: “Are you okay?” Then, he started sending messages and immediately unsending them. Finally, the messages stopped altogether. Around that time, I heard a rumor that Robert was trying to win Melinda over. Suddenly, it all made sense. Love me, love my dog. Hate me, hate my dog. I thought if I just explained myself, they would leave me alone. But the very next day, they started demanding the money. They threatened to blow the whole thing up, to tell the school administration, using Robert’s powerful family name to intimidate me. I had no choice but to ask for time off from my professors and find part-time work off campus. I looked everywhere, but even a manual labor job at a construction site only paid twenty dollars a day. Desperate, I asked some friends from the orphanage, and they got me a job as a waitress at a karaoke bar. I never thought I would run into them there. When I walked into their private room, the students, who had been singing and dancing wildly, fell silent. Robert, holding a glass of whiskey, froze. The disgust in his eyes was so clear it could cut through the darkness of the room. “Well, well, well, look who it is!” “I didn’t know our little Ivy was a thief by day and a hostess by night!” My face flushed. I put down the drinks and tried to run out. “Stop.” Something hard hit the back of my head. Melinda had thrown the remote control at me. “Did the customer say you could leave?” I took a deep breath and forced a smile. “Is there anything else I can get for you, ma’am?” She smirked. “You’re here to make money, right? I’m in a good mood today, so I’ll help you out.” “One bottle of liquor, one thousand dollars. How about it?” A thousand dollars. It was a number I couldn’t even comprehend. In my budget for all four years of college, my total expenses didn’t even add up to that. It would be a lie to say I wasn’t tempted. But I had never had a drop of alcohol in my life. “What are you waiting for? Don’t want it? Well, then—” “I’ll do it.” I looked her straight in the eye. Robert snorted, shooting me a look of pure disdain. The room erupted with excitement. “Come on, come on, our little escort for the evening, have a seat!” I knew they were mocking me. But I was used to it. Elementary school, middle school, now college—I’d been through this too many times to count. As I sat down, Robert shifted two inches away, as if I was something filthy. I swallowed the lump of bitterness in my throat and opened the first bottle. The strong smell of alcohol made me cough for what felt like an eternity. That night, I had my first drink. And I also learned, for the first time, that I was allergic to alcohol. Half a bottle in, red welts started to break out all over my skin. Suddenly, I was being pushed into someone’s warm body. The room was spinning. I mumbled, “Robert, I feel so sick. Can you get me some water…?” “Whoa!” “This is getting spicy!” “Robert, dude, this girl is really into you! She’s in another guy’s arms and still calling out your name!” 5 Robert’s brow furrowed. His eyes fell on my hand, which was wrapped around another guy’s neck, and a wave of irritation washed over him. Finally, he looked away in disgust. “Pathetic.” And so, I became their plaything for the night. Melinda would push me from one guy to the next. None of them refused. Their hands roamed freely over my body. All except one. Robert. The moment someone tried to push me toward him, he stood up abruptly. “You guys have your fun. Leave me out of it.” He threw his glass down and walked out. The others looked at each other, confused. “What’s up with Robert?” “Oh, right, I forgot he hates her. Maybe the bitch just ruined his mood.” Melinda didn’t say anything. She stared silently in the direction Robert had gone, then put down her glass. She smiled at the group. “Well, since Robert’s gone, I guess we should call it a night.” They grabbed their jackets and headed for the door. Suddenly, one of the girls turned and pointed at me. “What about her?” Melinda smiled sweetly. “Just leave her here. Someone will pick her up.” My head was splitting. Through the haze, I saw several large, pot-bellied middle-aged men walking toward me. The sight shocked me into a state of partial sobriety. I fumbled for my phone and typed in the number I had memorized, the number I had repeated to myself thousands of times. 【Are you far? I’m still in the private room.】 【Can you please help me… a bunch of strangers just came in.】 But there was no reply. Just as I was about to dial 911, my phone was knocked from my hand, flying across the room. A stinging slap landed on my cheek. “You fucking bitch! You dare call the cops!” That night was the most unforgettable night of my life. Three men. Pinning me down. The sharp pain, the screaming, and then, finally, darkness. When I woke up, my body was covered in a sticky film, and there was blood between my legs. And a new message on my phone. From Robert. 【Get lost.】 6 I didn’t go to school for a week. But it seemed like a lot of people were looking for me. Someone had uploaded a video of that night to the campus online forum. The men’s faces were blurred. Mine wasn’t. There wasn’t a single person at school who didn’t recognize me. I was too scared to go back. Several times, I stood on the bridge I had to cross to get to school, thinking about just jumping. I regretted it so much. Why did I waste my one precious chance for help on Robert? He was the last person in the world who would have helped me. Wasn’t he? I spent another night in my cockroach-infested room in the city’s slum. I took three showers. I wanted to hide forever, but then my academic advisor called. “If you miss one more class, the university will expel you.” “Ivy,” she said, her voice kind, “I know you’re not that kind of girl. Come back to school. You worked so hard to get here.” She was right. I had worked so hard. I had collected bottles and cans for six years to save up for tuition. I had spent over two thousand nights hunched by other people’s windows, studying by the moonlight. At that moment, I thought, maybe there were other people at school like my advisor, people who would stand by me. So I went back. But I was wrong. Everyone was standing on the other side. The moment I walked into the classroom, someone started making crowing noises like a rooster. I kept my head down and walked to my seat. My palms were bleeding from how tightly I’d been clenching my fists. “Well, well, look who it is. Our little celebrity is awfully quiet today.” “Lost your virginity at eighteen. Ivy, you’re the first girl in our class to become a woman.” The room erupted in laughter. “Is that enough?!” Robert shot up from his seat and slammed his hand on the desk. The classroom fell into a dead silence. He was panting, his chest heaving. He stormed out of the room, skipping a class for the first time in his life. “What’s with him? Isn’t he the one who hates Ivy the most?” “It is weird. Ever since that night at the karaoke bar, he’s been getting quieter and quieter.” Melinda was looking down, lost in thought. Suddenly, she walked over to me and pulled a thick wad of cash from her purse. “Oh, I almost forgot to pay you. You drank three bottles that night, so I’ll give you four thousand. The extra thousand is for your hard work.” I stared at the red bills. I stared at them through the entire class, and long after, until I was the only one left in the room. Finally, I reached out, took the money, and gently tucked it into my bag. Then I covered my face with my hands. My palms were instantly wet with tears. I hugged my tattered old backpack and sobbed until I couldn’t breathe. Didn’t you want the money so badly? But now, all I could think about were my parents, who had died so long ago.

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1 “Captain, I request to join the undercover op.” Anya’s voice was steady in the quiet room. After a long silence, Cranston replied gravely, “You’re still injured. And your fiancé—” “This is my decision,” Anya interrupted. “I’m breaking up with him anyway. You know I’m the best for this job.” Another pause, then a heavy sigh. “Take two weeks to… prepare. Then wait for the call.” The unspoken meaning was clear—final arrangements. But Anya had no one left to answer to. After hanging up, Anya’s gaze fell on two framed photos on her nightstand. The most important people in her life. The first was of her parents. The second, of her fiancé. Her parents, both decorated officers, had died in the line of duty when she was ten, leaving her an orphan. She later learned their only regrets were not being able to watch her grow up, and never receiving the Medal of Valor. The day she buried their ashes, she stood before their gravestones and made a vow. She would carry their torch. She would earn that medal for them. At twenty-two, she graduated from the academy at the top of her class and joined the major crimes unit. That was the year she met Liam. To the world, he was a brilliant, aloof attorney, famously immune to feminine charms. But with her, it was different. He said it was love at first sight. He did everything to get her number, took her on dates, showered her with thoughtful gifts and surprises. She fell for him, hard. Once they were official, he became even more devoted. He’d drive over in the middle of the night with her favorite food when she was on the night shift. He was a nervous wreck every time she was on a dangerous assignment. When she told him about her dream of earning the medal, he’d hold her and smile, telling her she would undoubtedly achieve it. Anya truly believed she had found the man she would spend her life with. Until their fifth anniversary. Liam gave her a beautiful dress and told her to meet him at a remote, secluded location. She waited for hours. He never showed. Instead, a masked man with a knife did. She was chloroformed and dragged into a van. When she woke up, she was in a damp basement. The man stroked her face, his words sending a chill down her spine. “The resemblance is uncanny. No wonder he’s so obsessed with you. But what’s the use? You’re not her. You’re just the bait.” It was then that Anya learned Liam’s secret. He had a childhood sweetheart, a famous actress named Monica Reed. The cool, detached lawyer was a different person around her; he had loved and protected her his entire life. On the very day he had planned a grand romantic gesture to confess his feelings, Monica was kidnapped by an obsessed fan. When they finally found her, she was covered in blood, barely conscious. She had been in a coma ever since. The kidnapper escaped and had remained at large for years. Liam was destroyed. From that day on, his life had only two purposes. First, to wait for Monica to wake up. Second, to hunt down her attacker. When he saw Anya, he was captivated. She looked so much like Monica. So he pursued her, using her face as a vessel for his longing for another woman. And he began to plot. To use her face to lure the monster out of hiding. He waited five years. When he finally got a lead, he orchestrated the whole thing. For seven hours, Anya was tortured, pushed to the brink of a mental and physical breakdown. She was rescued moments before her captor could deliver the final, fatal blow. Liam got what he wanted. The man was caught. But the price was Anya’s right hand. It was permanently damaged, the nerves shredded beyond repair. It took her a long time to process everything—being a substitute, her hand being crippled. The woman who came out the other side was a hollowed-out version of her former self. Her faith in love was dead. Worse, her faith in everything else was gone, too. She could never be a field officer again. Her dream of earning the Medal of Valor was shattered. Then, yesterday, a colleague visiting her mentioned a new, high-stakes operation to take down a massive crime syndicate. They needed three undercover agents. Two spots were filled, but the third was so dangerous they couldn’t find a volunteer. She decided in an instant. She would be the third. She knew she would be chosen. She fit all the criteria. Especially with her injured hand. Who would suspect a crippled ex-cop? For her country, and for her dream. She would go without hesitation, without regret. As for Liam, they were finished. She was letting him go. Anya quietly packed up her belongings in the apartment. By the time she was done, it was eleven. She heard footsteps outside the door. Liam was home. He walked in, a smile on his face, but it vanished when he saw the packed boxes. “Anya? What’s all this?” 2 She couldn’t tell anyone about the mission. “I quit,” she said, her voice flat. Liam was stunned. “But they were going to move you to a desk job, weren’t they?” Anya turned to look at him. “I told you, Liam. My dream was the medal. It was being on the front lines.” Her tone was matter-of-fact, devoid of blame. But her words twisted his heart into a knot. A film of sweat coated his palms. “I’m sorry,” he stammered, a flash of regret in his eyes. “I didn’t mean to bring it up.” Anya just shook her head and zipped up the last box. “It’s not your fault.” His guilt only deepened. He had deceived her, and because of him, her career was over. He fumbled for words. “Quitting… quitting is good. You can rest. I’ll take care of you.” Take care of me? Anya looked at him, a complex mix of emotions swirling inside her. He never understood her. She said nothing, just went to wash up for the night. Later, in the darkness of the bedroom, Liam wrapped his arms around her from behind, his warm breath on her neck. He tried to kiss her. Anya stiffened, using her elbow to create a space between them, and shifted to the far edge of the bed. “Anya…?” Liam’s voice was laced with surprise at the rejection. “Sorry, my hand is bothering me tonight. I just want to sleep.” “Oh. Okay. Goodnight, then.” Three days later, it was Anya’s birthday. Liam took the day off and cooked a feast. Wearing a paper party hat, she stared at the table laden with spicy dishes, her mind drifting. Liam loved to cook for her, but he always loaded every dish with chili peppers. She had told him countless times she couldn’t handle spicy food, but he always said it was the only style he knew how to cook. To not disappoint him, she had learned to eat it, enduring stomach aches and heartburn, all for him. Now she knew the truth. It was someone else who loved spicy food. He was just reliving memories of another woman through her. She didn’t want to force herself anymore. She didn’t pick up her chopsticks. Liam noticed. “What’s wrong?” Anya rolled up her sleeve, revealing the jagged scar on her wrist. She reached for the cake. “At my last check-up, the doctor said I need to eat bland food for a while.” A flicker of guilt crossed his face. He stood up to clear the plates, saying he would cook something else. Anya stopped him as she opened the cake box. “Don’t bother. I’m not hungry. I’ll eat later.” Liam hesitated, then simply helped her put the candles on the cake and lit them. She closed her eyes, her hands clasped together, and made a wish. “This year, my wish is to finally earn the Medal of Valor.” The last few words made Liam’s brow furrow in confusion. She had quit, hadn’t she? How could she earn the medal now? He was about to ask when his phone vibrated. He saw the caller ID—Dr. Evans—and a jolt went through him. He answered without a second thought. “Mr. Thorne, Monica is awake!” The words were like a thunderclap. He shot up from his chair, not even bothering with his coat or shoes, and sprinted for the door. He left without a word. Anya opened her eyes to the sight of his frantic, retreating back. She didn’t know what had happened, but after a moment’s hesitation, she grabbed his coat and ran after him. By the time she got downstairs, Liam was already peeling out of the driveway, driving like a man possessed. The sheer recklessness of it terrified her. Her professional instincts kicked in. Fearing he would cause an accident, she hailed a cab and followed him. He sped all the way to the hospital on the west side of town and rushed to the third floor. She followed, breathless, and stopped outside a hospital room. Through the window, she saw Liam, holding someone in his arms, his face streaked with tears. She had never seen him so emotional; his job had taught him to be perpetually composed. When the person in his arms looked up, her face tear-stained and lovely, Anya froze. The kidnapper had told her she looked just like Monica Reed, especially in profile. It was as if they were cast from the same mold. Today, seeing her for the first time, Anya knew it was true. After the initial shock, a wave of understanding washed over her. She finally knew why he had been so frantic. The woman he had waited five years for was finally awake. 3 Listening to them inside, crying, whispering of their longing and five years of regret, Anya looked down at the coat in her hands and gave a self-deprecating smile. She took a deep breath, suppressed the rising tide of emotion, and turned away from the hospital. When she got home, the birthday candles had burned all the way down, leaving a black, charred mess on the white frosting. She took a trash bag and scraped the entire feast, cake and all, into it. Then she went to her room, turned off the lights, and quietly spent the rest of her 27th birthday in the dark. For the next week, Liam vanished. Anya didn’t try to contact him. She spent her days at home, slowly clearing out her things, making countless trips downstairs to the dumpster without complaint. After emptying the last cabinet, she surveyed the now-barren apartment and wheeled a small cart downstairs. With her injured hand, it took a great deal of effort to toss the last bag into the bin. As she was rubbing her sore wrist, she looked up and saw Liam. He looked troubled, his mind elsewhere. She had thought he would be happy now that Monica was awake. She couldn’t understand his gloomy expression. He noticed her gaze and quickened his pace. “What are you doing down here? What are you throwing out?” “Just some trash.” He glanced at the overflowing bin and frowned. “You’re injured. Why didn’t you just leave it for me to take care of when I got back?” Anya managed a small smile, her hand resting on the cart. “The cart makes it easy. Besides, you weren’t here. The trash was starting to smell.” Her words reminded him that he had disappeared on her birthday without a word. Panic flickered in his eyes, and he quickly invented an excuse. “Anya, I’m sorry. A client called with an emergency. She was out of town, and I was worried something would happen, so I had to leave on a business trip. I’m sorry for making you worry.” It was a clumsy, last-minute lie, but Anya didn’t call him on it. She even gave him an out. “So you’re back. Is everything resolved?” Liam was taken aback by how easily she seemed to believe him. The truth was, he had been at the hospital the entire time, by Monica’s side. He knew the pain of loss, and now that he had her back, he didn’t want to waste a single second. He had forgotten everything else—his parents, his girlfriend, his work. This morning, Monica, having heard from friends about everything he had done for her while she was in a coma, was deeply moved and finally broke the silence between them. “Liam, I know you have feelings for me. And… I’ve liked you for a long time, too. Will you be my boyfriend?” He had waited nearly twenty years to hear those words. But when he finally did, he didn’t feel the joy he had expected. Instead, another name popped into his head. Anya. The past five years with her replayed in his mind like a filmstrip: her kiss on New Year’s Eve, the scarf she had knitted for him, the umbrella she brought to his office during a typhoon… Every frame was etched with her name. The final image was of her being carried out on a stretcher, her hands a bloody mess. A sharp pain, like a knife twisting in his heart, pierced him. He knew that because of his selfishness, Anya’s life, her dreams, were utterly destroyed. Guilt, remorse, and another unnameable emotion overwhelmed him. He couldn’t bring himself to say yes. After what felt like an eternity, he finally composed himself and answered Monica, his voice hoarse. “I’m sorry. I need some time to think.” Monica was shocked by his rejection. Everyone around them knew how much he adored her. Liam, not knowing how to face her, made an excuse and left the hospital. Now, seeing Anya again, his heart was in even more turmoil. Every lie he told felt like a stone weighing him down, crushing the air from his lungs. He hesitated for a long time before finally telling a sliver of the truth. “It’ll be a while longer.” From the look in his eyes, Anya guessed that he and Monica had talked. The woman he was waiting for was awake. And she herself had finally let go. She didn’t want to continue this charade. In a light, joking tone, she tested the waters with the words she truly meant. “Liam… what if we broke up?” 4 The word “breakup” made the color drain from Liam’s face. He pulled her into a tight embrace, his voice rising in alarm. “Break up? I don’t agree! Anya, why? Why would you suddenly say that?” His panicked reaction surprised her. The love of his life was awake. He should be thrilled that she was offering him an out. Why did he look so terrified of losing her? She didn’t want to read too much into it. The only explanation was that while he loved Monica, his guilt over crippling her was so immense that he couldn’t bring himself to abandon her now. It seemed a direct breakup wouldn’t work. He would never agree. And with her mission being top secret, she couldn’t risk alarming him. She would have to disappear quietly. She forced a smile, smoothly backtracking. “You just looked so unhappy, I thought I’d make a joke to lighten the mood. Don’t take it seriously.” Liam stared at her face, searching for any sign of a lie. Seeing none, he finally relaxed, taking the cart from her and leading her upstairs. “Don’t ever make a joke like that again. I promised I’d take care of you for life.” Anya glanced at him, memories flooding her mind. In the beginning, after learning the truth, the pain had been unbearable. She had questioned if she was unlovable, if fate was playing a cruel trick on her. She had pushed everyone away and cried for days. But in the end, the rational mind of a detective had won out over despair. She had asked herself again and again: as an officer, wasn’t it her duty to catch criminals and protect people? The answer was yes. Her hand was ruined, but the perpetrator was caught. No one else would be harmed by him. In a way, she hadn’t just saved Liam’s love interest; she had saved Monica Reed, an innocent victim who had lost five years of her life. The capture of her attacker was a form of justice for her, too. Once she realized this, Anya let go of her resentment. So now, hearing Liam’s promise again, she gently pulled her hand away and looked at him, her expression serious. “I don’t need you to take care of me. From the day I took my oath, I was prepared to bleed, to be injured. I dedicated my life to my country. As long as justice is served, any sacrifice is worth it.” “I may not be able to work the front lines anymore, but I will find another way to serve. What’s done is done. We should both look forward. There are new stories waiting for us.” These were her heartfelt words, the last sentence carrying a hidden meaning. But Liam, drowning in his guilt, didn’t catch it. Her solemnity only deepened his self-loathing. He didn’t know what to say, so he tried to atone with actions. For the next week, he barely left the house, dedicating himself to caring for Anya. He did all the chores, tried to make her laugh, took her to her physical therapy appointments, and showered her with gifts he called belated birthday presents. For a fleeting moment, seeing his gentle, attentive care, Anya almost believed the past few months had been a bad dream. No kidnapping, no undercover mission, no Monica Reed. A world where she could fulfill her vow and grow old with the man she loved. But then she would see the scar on her hand, or catch him sneaking onto the balcony to take a call, and the illusion would shatter.

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Mona, the internet’s self-proclaimed vigilante, built a ten-million-follower empire on one thing: punishing the rich. She smashed supercars, slashed priceless paintings—the more expensive, the better. I’d always dismissed her as another fame-hungry clown, a sideshow for the perpetually online. Then I realized the mansion she was currently trashing on her livestream was mine. By the time I rushed to our estate, the damage was apocalyptic. The custom-ordered European crystal chandelier was a glittering ruin on the marble floor. A masterpiece worth millions, shredded into canvas ribbons. An antique vase valued at a fortune, now just a pile of porcelain shards. When she saw me, her chin lifted in a gesture of pure arrogance. “Not bad on the props,” she sneered. “Thirty grand should cover this pile of junk, right?” I surveyed the wasteland that was once my living room, a knot of fury tightening in my chest. I simply signaled for my butler to begin calculating the losses. When he finally told her she owed me one hundred and eighty million dollars, she pissed herself. 1 “My payment info. Now.” Mona lounged on my bespoke sofa, her tone dripping with disdain. When I didn’t move, her patience seemed to snap. She shot to her feet, planting herself in front of me. “What? You think thirty grand isn’t enough?” she demanded. “Look, I’ll admit the props were convincing this time, but I never asked you to go this over-the-top. Do you have any idea how much effort it took to smash all this? How much of my time you wasted? I should be charging you for the trouble. Don’t push your luck.” She settled back, preening. In her world, a world of ten million followers, people paid for the privilege of her attention. She’d never encountered someone who didn’t immediately bow down. I ignored her rant, my gaze fixed on the wreckage. I just waited, my patience a thin veneer over a core of white-hot rage, as Peterson, my butler, continued his quiet assessment. Mona’s foot began to tap impatiently. “What’s taking so long? Thirty grand is more than generous. You should be thanking me for paying that much for this heap of garbage. If you keep this up, you’re going to find out what happens when you get on my bad side.” A flicker of genuine malice crossed her face. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I was almost curious to see what “her way” of dealing with me looked like. Seeing my lack of reaction, she switched to a boastful tone. “Do you even know how many fans I have? Do you know how much my top donors gift me every single day? All I have to do is cry a little on camera, and they will cyberbully you until you want to kill yourself.” Cyberbully me? If she could actually pull that off, I might almost be impressed. “Miss Mona, please, be patient,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “Since you’re so powerful, why don’t you stick around and hear what this ‘pile of junk’ is actually worth?” Just then, Peterson finished his calculations and approached, whispering the final figure in my ear. One hundred and eighty million. A nice, round number. “Peterson,” I said. “Please inform the lady.” My butler straightened his tie and turned to Mona, his voice ringing with crisp, professional clarity. “Ma’am, based on our initial assessment, the damages total one hundred and eighty million dollars. How would you like to handle the payment?” For a split second, raw panic flashed in Mona’s eyes. Then, she leaped from the sofa as if it were on fire. “Are you out of your goddamn mind? One hundred and eighty million!” she shrieked. “Do you even know how many zeros that is?” 2 As she was screaming, the team I’d called in earlier was already documenting the scene, their camera flashes illuminating the destruction. “Of course I do,” I replied smoothly. “The real question is, are any of your ‘top donors’ willing to foot the bill?” To my surprise, Mona burst out laughing—a wild, unhinged sound. Has the shock broken her brain? I wondered. “Miss Mona,” I said, my voice dropping an octave. “Playing dumb won’t do you any favors here. You need to start thinking about how you’re going to pay me back for my ‘pile of junk’.” I spat the last words out, each one a testament to the fury I was barely containing. Only I knew the truth: every shard on the floor was a stab to my heart. That goddamned Mona. She’d used a bottle of vintage wine worth over a hundred thousand dollars for a fucking bath. The painting she’d shredded was now nothing more than a glorified dishrag. And worst of all, the Ming Dynasty cloisonné vase. It had been a birthday gift from my grandfather last year, something he’d spent a fortune on at auction. If I didn’t make her pay for this, I wasn’t a Price. Mona, however, was still full of bravado. “You lowlifes are just trying to extort me because I’m a famous influencer, aren’t you?” she sneered. “Fine. I’ll add another twenty thousand. Fifty K total. That should be enough for you greedy pigs. This is blackmail, you know. I could call the cops.” Wow. The sheer audacity to twist reality like this was almost impressive. I still had no idea how she’d even gotten into my house, and here she was, painting herself as the victim. Some people truly have no shame. My upbringing, however, demanded I maintain a shred of composure. “Since you brought it up,” I said, a slow smile spreading across my face, “why don’t we? You trespassed, destroyed my property… by all means, let’s get the police involved.” I nodded to Peterson, who immediately reached for his phone. “Wait!” Mona yelped. The bravado was gone, replaced by a flicker of fear. “What’s wrong, Miss Mona? Afraid?” I purred. “You seemed so confident a moment ago. Let’s let the authorities sort this out. I’m quite sure my security cameras recorded everything. Or perhaps you could tell them you were sleepwalking? Possessed by a demon, maybe? Otherwise, you’d better get used to the color orange, because you’re going to be wearing it for a long, long time.” The seriousness in my expression finally seemed to penetrate her thick skull. A flicker of doubt crossed her face. Could I have really… smashed the wrong house? Just then, her phone rang. 3 She snatched it up, and her furious screech echoed through the cavernous room. “Leah! Where the hell are you!” “You need to get your ass over here! Now!” “Avalon Estates, Number 17! You told me this was all handled! Now these people are trying to shake me down for 180 million! They’re threatening me!” “What the hell am I paying you for? If you can’t do your job, you’re fired!” A muffled voice on the other end murmured placatingly. “Mona, calm down. I negotiated the price beforehand. If they’re giving you trouble, I’m on my way with backup right now,” Leah’s voice promised. “Avalon Estates, Number 17. Give me twenty minutes.” Hearing that reinforcements were coming, Mona deliberately switched her phone to speaker. A smug, triumphant look returned to her face. “You hear that?” she said, her voice dripping with renewed arrogance. “Apologize to me right now, throw in a million or two for my emotional distress, and I might just let this go. Otherwise… I promise you, your life is over.” My life is over? She really was a first-class moron. I wanted to crack her head open and see if there was anything inside besides air. Yes, this was the Avalon Estates. Except I live at goddamn Number 18. To wreck the wrong house and still act this high and mighty… she hadn’t grasped the reality of her situation at all. You don’t get to act like a queen in my kingdom. Even God himself would have to bow before walking out of here. Her voice was starting to give me a headache. I took a slow sip of tea. “Since you’re so confident, Miss Mona, let’s just wait for your people to arrive.” After that, I tuned out her stream of curses and insults. Leah and her crew were surprisingly fast. As they strode into the room, I saw Leah’s eyes widen in confusion. This opulent disaster zone was clearly not the cheap prop house she had arranged. But she quickly masked her unease, stepping forward with a dozen thuggish-looking guys behind her. “So you’re the one trying to scam us?” she said, her eyes raking over me with contempt. When I didn’t reply, she continued, “You look the part, I’ll give you that. But you’d better not get so lost in the role that you forget what you really are. Do you know who we are? Do you know how many fans Mona has? One word from her, and you’ll drown in a sea of their hate.” She took another step closer. “Now, you’re going to get over here and apologize to Mona. If you beg nicely, maybe I’ll put in a good word for you. Otherwise…” I’d heard enough. Was everyone in her line of work this delusional? “Otherwise what?” I interrupted, my voice calm. “I’m sitting right here. Let’s see what you can do to me.” My composure must have pushed Mona over the edge. Seeing her backup had arrived, the last of her sanity seemed to snap. “What are you waiting for, talking to her?!” she shrieked at Leah. “Did you bring all these guys just for decoration? She thinks she’s so tough? Grab her! I’m going to personally smash her face in and see if she can still talk so big!” Leah, still retaining a shred of sense, hesitated. “Mona, I don’t think that’s a good idea. What if she really calls the cops? It’ll get messy.” In response, Mona spun around and slapped Leah hard across the face. 4 “You traitorous bitch!” Mona screamed, her face contorted with rage. “Have you forgotten who signs your paychecks?” “I have millions of fans! So what if I beat her to death? A piece of trash like her dares to defy me? I’m going to teach her a lesson she’ll never forget, right here, right now!” I watched as Leah’s hands clenched into fists at her sides. So, not the most loyal of relationships, then. Mona ignored Leah’s silent fury and barked orders at the hired muscle. “What are you idiots waiting for?! Grab her! Maybe when I’m done with her, I’ll let you boys have some fun.” She shot me a disgusting, leering smile. At that, the men’s faces lit up. The leader, a greasy-looking thug, cracked his knuckles. “Your mistake was pissing off the wrong person, sweetheart,” he sneered. “But don’t worry. We’ll make sure you have a real good time.” They started toward me, a predator’s grin on their faces. I snapped my fingers. In a blur of motion, my security detail emerged from the adjoining rooms. It was over in seconds. They were professionals, and these were street thugs. The greasy leader who’d insulted me was the first to go down, a single punch shattering his nose and sending a couple of teeth clattering to the floor. He lay there, howling in agony. Did she really think I’d be unprepared? The moment I saw the damage, I’d called in my own people. I rose from my chair and walked slowly toward Mona, the sound of my heels clicking on the marble. “So, Mona?” I asked, my voice soft. “Any other brilliant ideas on how to ‘deal’ with me? If not, you’d better start thinking about that 180 million. Because until that’s settled, you’re not going anywhere.” I turned to my butler. “Peterson. Call the police.” The show was over. I was done playing games.

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