Category: English

1 “If you don’t wear this tracker, you are not leaving this house!” I was in the middle of aggressively forcing the device onto my husband when glowing text suddenly materialized in the air right before my eyes. [Is she insane? This villainess’s desire for control is absolutely suffocating!] [Just wait. Once the female lead shows up, the male lead will realize how sweet freedom is. He’ll dump this psycho first thing!] [Once they divorce, she’ll be absolutely nothing. Who does she think she can control then? She’s going to end up freezing to death on the streets like a stray dog!] I swallowed hard, my hand trembling as I tossed the tracking device straight into the trash can. “Actually, never mind. You can go. Have a safe drive.” The moment those words left my mouth, my husband’s expression shifted. He leaned down, stepping into my personal space, a dark, turbulent storm brewing in the depths of his eyes. “Aren’t you going to say that if I don’t wear it, you’ll burn my car and lock me inside? Why are you letting me go, huh?” My shoulders ached under the weight of his intense gaze, and my mind was still spinning from the words freezing to death on the streets flashing in my mind. If this had happened yesterday, I would have blown a fuse. How dare he talk back to me? I would have confiscated his car keys, locked him in the bedroom, and made sure he didn’t even see the front door today. But now, I forced myself to swallow the venomous words rising in my throat. I pushed gently against his chest, trying to soften my voice as much as possible. “I just read an article saying those trackers emit a lot of radiation. It’s bad for your health.” Asher’s brow furrowed even deeper. His eyes locked onto mine, searching. “That’s not what you used to say. You used to demand that I remain within your sight twenty-four hours a day.” I choked on my words, especially as the floating comments started flashing rapidly again. [Oh, look at her pretending to be sweet and caring! She’s definitely plotting something else, just watch!] [Don’t believe her, Asher! The female lead is waiting for you at the office right now, don’t waste your time on this crazy woman!] My chest tightened. I quickly took a step back to put some distance between us. “I was immature before. I won’t do it anymore.” “You should get going. Don’t keep your clients waiting.” With that, I turned and walked toward the bedroom, not daring to look back. Behind me, Asher stood frozen for a long time. As I closed the bedroom door, I caught a glimpse of him picking the tracker out of the trash, his face incredibly dark. I leaned against the door and let out a long, shaky breath. After a few tense moments of silence outside, the heavy sound of the front door slamming shut echoed through the apartment. He was finally gone. My marriage to Asher was a business alliance. Having grown up relying on the charity of others, I had learned the hard way that the only way to feel secure was to keep everything under my absolute control. I was ten years old when my mother married into the Gregory family. The relatives called me “the young heiress” to my face, but behind my back, they treated me like useless baggage. My food, clothes, and living space were constantly monitored, and even the house staff looked down on me. Our marriage only happened because the Gregory family business was on the verge of bankruptcy. They needed Asher’s family to bail them out, and only then did they suddenly remember my existence. So, from the first day of our marriage, I did everything I could to hold onto him. For three years, I controlled everything. I managed his clothes, his meals, his social circle, and even who he talked to each day. I genuinely believed that as long as I held on tight enough, this marriage wouldn’t fall apart. If it weren’t for those strange floating comments, I would have died without ever knowing I was just a tragic villainess in a story. The text claimed Asher was the male lead, and his secretary, Isla, was the destined female lead. It warned that once he grew entirely sick of my suffocating control, he would divorce me, leave me penniless, and ruin my family’s business. In the end, I was destined to freeze to death under a bridge on a bitter winter night. The mere thought made me shiver. I sat on the edge of the bed and unlocked my phone. My thumb hovered habitually over the hidden tracking app. I used to check his location every thirty minutes, making sure he wasn’t anywhere he shouldn’t be. But as the map loaded his location at a private dining club on the outskirts of the city, the text flashed again. [Here we go! The control freak is checking up on him! She’s about to call and scream at him, which will only drive him closer to Isla!] My hand shook, and I immediately uninstalled the app. No, I couldn’t look. If I kept doing this, I was going to end up dead. I tossed my phone aside, grabbed a pillow, and forced myself to watch a comedy. Halfway through, my phone vibrated. It was my best friend. “Evelyn, isn’t your husband out tonight? I heard Isla went with him. Aren’t you going to check up on him?” Normally, I would have lost my mind and spammed Asher with a dozen calls. But now, I bit my lip and forced a casual laugh. “Why would I? He’s a grown man. He knows what he’s doing.” My friend’s voice changed instantly, dripping with shock. “Evelyn, do you have a fever? Last week you threw a massive scene at his office just because Isla handed him a cup of coffee!” Before I could think of an explanation, a new notification popped up on my screen. It was an Instagram post from Isla. The photo showed Asher holding a glass of whiskey, his brow slightly furrowed. The caption read: The boss works too hard. He drank almost half a bottle tonight. My heart breaks for him. My fingers trembled with sudden anger. I was about to dial Asher’s number when the floating text flooded my vision. [Haha! I knew she would snap! She’s definitely going to crash the dinner, embarrass him in front of everyone, and he’ll demand a divorce tonight!] [Finally, he can get away from this psycho! Congratulations, Asher!] [Isla, get ready to comfort him! This is your moment!] I took a deep, shuddering breath, closed the app, and sent Asher a simple text instead. Don’t drink too much. Your stomach can’t handle it. I’m going to sleep first, no need to check in. I muted my phone and pulled the covers over my head, but my mind was racing. I tossed and turned, desperately wanting to reinstall the app to see where he was. But the image of my tragic end kept me glued to the mattress. My phone screen lit up again with another notification from Isla’s account. I flipped the phone face down, my chest tight with anxiety. Normally, I would have already driven over there to flip the table. But now, I had to keep telling myself: Evelyn, you can’t go. If you go, you lose everything. Eventually, I drifted into a restless sleep. I woke up to the sound of keys jingling at the front door. I checked my phone: 2:00 AM. Normally, I would have been waiting in the entryway, ready to search his pockets, sniff his collar for perfume, and scroll through his entire chat history before forcing him to stand in the living room to sober up. But tonight, I simply pulled the blanket tighter and turned over to go back to sleep. Suddenly, the bedroom door swung open with a loud thud. Asher stood in the doorway, smelling of cold air and expensive whiskey. He marched over and tossed his phone onto my pillow, the screen glowing brightly. I sat up, blinking sleepily. “What’s wrong?” “Why aren’t you checking my phone?” His voice was incredibly hoarse, his eyes slightly bloodshot from the alcohol. “Ask me who I drank with tonight. Ask me if I got too close to Isla. Search my messages. You always do.” My heart did a sudden leap, especially as the text flared up again. [Here it is! She’s going to use this as an excuse to scream at him! Ask for the divorce, Asher!] I quickly pushed his phone back toward him, forcing a reassuring smile. “I trust you. There’s nothing to check.” “Besides, I left some hangover soup warming on the stove. If you’re not feeling well, go have a bowl. I’m going back to sleep.” I pulled the blanket back over my head, facing away from him. For a long time, there was absolute silence. I thought he had left, but then the bedroom door slammed shut so hard the walls vibrated. I stared at the closed door, utterly baffled. Wasn’t he supposed to hate my constant nagging? Now that I was giving him space, why was he furious? Whatever. The text said he was going to dump me anyway. Survival was my only priority. The next morning, I woke up early. As my feet hit the floor, I instinctively walked toward the walk-in closet. Usually, my first task was selecting his outfit for the day: which shirt, which tie, even which pattern of socks. If he wore anything else, I would argue with him all day. Just as I reached the door, the text flashed warningly. [Warning! She’s about to force him to wear that pastel pink shirt again! He absolutely hates pink. This fight is going to trigger the divorce!] I froze, immediately turning on my heel and heading toward the kitchen instead. That was close. Almost stepped on a landmine. While I was frying eggs, I heard his footsteps approaching the kitchen. He stopped right by the door. “What am I supposed to wear today?” Without turning around, I flipped an egg and said casually, “Whatever you want. Wear your favorite. I don’t mind.” “You said I look old in gray, and you insisted I wear the pink one,” Asher said, his voice sounding tight, almost like he was grinding his teeth. My hand slipped, nearly burning the egg. I quickly offered a peace-offering smile. “I had bad taste back then. You actually look incredibly sharp in gray, seriously.” When I looked over, I saw him toss the pink shirt directly into the trash can before pulling on a dark charcoal suit jacket. I let out a soft breath. Thank goodness I didn’t push him, or I would have triggered the bad ending right then and there. 2 For the next week, my behavior was entirely different. When he worked late, I didn’t spam his phone. I simply sent a single text before bed: Don’t work too hard. When he went out to a lounge with his friends, I didn’t ask who was there, nor did I demand photos of the table. Meanwhile, Isla posted photos of him daily on her social media: the side of his face while he worked, his hand holding a document, each caption more suggestive than the last. I pretended not to see any of it. The floating comments kept insisting I was just gathering strength for a massive explosion, waiting for my breaking point. But in reality, I was quietly meeting with a lawyer to draft a divorce agreement. I had already decided on the terms. I didn’t want a single penny of the Sinclair estate. I would only keep the small apartment I owned before our marriage. Once we split, he could date Isla, marry her, or do whatever he pleased. No one would smother him ever again. On Friday evening, he texted to say he was meeting clients at a private club. I replied with a simple Okay and curled up on the sofa to watch a reality show. Around ten, my phone rang. It was an employee from the club, saying Mr. Sinclair had had too much to drink and asking if they should arrange a ride. Before I could answer that I would drive over myself, Isla’s voice cut through the background of the call. “No need to bother Mrs. Sinclair. I’m heading that way anyway. I’ll take him home.” I paused for a second, then smiled into the receiver. “Thank you for the help, then.” I hung up, and the screen instantly filled with rapid-fire comments. [Oh my god! The female lead is bringing him home! The psycho wife is going to lose her absolute mind!] [Last time Isla just brushed past him, Evelyn slapped her. This time she’s going to claw her face off!] [Let her rage! Once she causes a scene, Asher will kick her out of the house for good!] I took a deep breath, went to the kitchen, and prepared a warm glass of honey water, waiting calmly for them to arrive. Around eleven, the doorbell rang. I opened the door to find Isla holding Asher up, her hair slightly messy, her face flushed. When she saw me, she spoke in a sweet, soft voice. “Mrs. Sinclair, he drank quite a bit tonight. He kept calling your name on the ride over.” Normally, I would have slapped her for letting him lean on her like that. But instead, I gently took Asher from her, retrieved his coat, and handed her the warm honey water. “Thank you so much for bringing him back safely. It’s late, so please drive carefully.” Isla’s sweet smile completely froze. She clearly hadn’t expected this reaction. Before she could say another word, I offered a polite nod and shut the door. I helped Asher onto the sofa and poured him a glass of water. “Drink some water. You smell like a distillery. Go take a shower.” The moment the words left my mouth, I worried I sounded too controlling again. I quickly corrected myself. “Or don’t. It’s up to you. Do whatever you want.” As I turned to walk away, my wrist was suddenly grabbed in a tight, firm grip. He stared at me with bloodshot eyes, his voice incredibly hoarse. “You’re not mad?” I blinked. “Why would I be mad?” “Isla brought me home. She was leaning all over me. You’re not angry at all?” He demanded, his grip tightening. “Before, if she even handed me a file, you’d give me the cold shoulder for three days.” My heart hammered against my ribs, and I quickly pulled my hand out of his grasp. “I was immature back then. She’s your employee, there’s no reason for me to get upset over work.” I didn’t dare look at his expression as I quickly made my way toward the study. He had to be completely exhausted by my past behavior. If I brought up the divorce now, he would surely agree. I pulled the draft agreement from the desk drawer just as the study door pushed open. Asher had followed me. He stood in the doorway, watching me. I looked up at him, forcing a gentle smile as I slid the papers across the desk. “Asher, since you’re here, take a look at this. I’ve drafted a divorce agreement.” “I only want my old apartment. Everything else is yours.” “From now on, you’re entirely free. You can be with whoever you want, and no one will ever check up on you again.” The moment the words left my mouth, Asher’s face darkened completely. He gritted his teeth, his voice dripping with anger. “Do you really think I want freedom? Evelyn, I want you!” “What kind of game are you playing lately?” “You stop checking on me, and now you want a divorce? Tell me the truth: is there someone else?”

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Ethan Holt had never imagined that Evie Sterling would one day walk away from him. He had funded her for ten years, caged her for ten years, and convinced himself she would wait forever. For Sophia Grant, he slapped Evie, locked her up, and stripped away the last voting shares her family had left her. He trampled all over her love and still believed she would come back. Only after Lucas Grant took her into his protection, married her, and placed an empire in her hands did Ethan finally lose his mind. He wrecked his own legacy, survived a fall into the sea, and crawled back from hell like a possessive ghost, all for one purpose. To take her back. Evie only gave him one answer. “Ethan, the debt is repaid. We will never see each other again.” The world called him a madman for chasing after his lost love. Lucas Grant only held his wife closer and said with lazy contempt, “Ethan’s taste has always been terrible. Lucky for me, he let me steal the prize.” Everyone in Harbor City knew Evie Sterling was Ethan Holt’s pretty little ornament. What no one knew was that the obedient face he kept beside him had spent three years tangled in a secret affair with the man who had sponsored her since childhood. That night, Ethan returned from Wall Street after three years abroad. The first event on his schedule was a private charity cruise. In the VIP suite on the top deck, the air itself felt overheated. Evie was pinned against the glass with her wrists tied by his necktie, the city lights glittering behind her and Ethan’s cold, handsome face burning with possessive madness in front of her. “Ethan… that hurts…” He bit down at the back of her neck in answer. “Three years apart and you’ve already forgotten how to please me?” She cried quietly and let the tears fall. For three years she had lived on one sentence alone. Wait for me to come back. She had turned away every admirer and spent those years like a doll suspended on strings. When he was done, Ethan buttoned his shirt and put his mask back on. Then he lit a cigar and said, as casually as if he were discussing the weather, “Tomorrow the Holt and Grant families will formally announce the marriage alliance.” Her hands froze over the hem of her dress. “You’re getting married?” “Yes.” He looked down at her without emotion. “I’m marrying Sophia Grant. You’re marrying her brother, Lucas Grant.” The room spun. Lucas Grant. The ruthless head of the Grant family. “Why?” she whispered. “You told me to wait for you.” “I told you what I needed to tell you.” His voice turned colder. “Sophia is different. She’s clean. She can stand beside me in public. You can’t. The Holt family supported you for ten years. It’s time you repaid that debt.” Clean. That word sliced her open. So that was all she had ever been to him. A dirty little secret. She barely knew how she got out of the suite. Her dress hung crooked. The mark on her neck burned. Tears blurred her vision. At the corner of the hall, she ran straight into a broad chest that smelled faintly of cedar. She looked up and found herself face-to-face with a man in a black overcoat, tall, controlled, and dangerous in a way that did not need to be announced. His gaze dropped to the bite mark on her neck. Then his mouth curved. “Ethan’s taste,” he said softly, “is still as bad as ever.”

She knew who he was immediately. Lucas Grant. Sophia’s brother. Her future fiancé by arrangement. He studied her for a moment, then removed his coat and draped it over her shoulders. “Cover yourself,” he said. “I’d rather tomorrow’s headlines not say my fiancée showed up wearing another man’s marks.” She fled in humiliation. Back in the ballroom, the crowd had gathered around the staircase. Ethan stood there in a dark suit with Sophia on his arm. Sophia was all white silk and sweetness, the kind of beauty that looked fragile until you looked too closely. Evie stood in the shadows and tried not to look. Sophia noticed her anyway. “Ethan, that must be Evie,” she said with a smile. “You always said she was your best-behaved girl.” Ethan’s eyes dropped to Lucas’s coat over Evie’s shoulders, and his face darkened at once. “Where did you get that?” Before Evie could answer, Sophia covered her mouth and said with mock innocence, “That looks like my brother’s coat. Evie, were you with him just now?” Ethan leaned close enough that only she could hear him. “I told you to marry Lucas. I did not tell you to throw yourself at him.” Her heart dropped to the floor. He did not ask. He did not listen. He judged. So she smiled. “If you’re giving me away,” she said coolly, “wouldn’t it make sense to start pleasing my future husband early?” For the first time that night, Ethan looked shaken. Sophia saw it and smiled even more sweetly. “Come with me, Evie. Let’s talk about your wedding.” She led her out to the deck. The instant they reached a deserted corner, Sophia dropped the act. She raised her hand and showed off a huge pink diamond ring. “Ethan bought it at Sotheby’s for me,” she said. “Did you think sleeping with him for three years would make you special? You’re nothing but a bankrupt orphan he kept around.”

Evie recognized the diamond instantly. Years earlier, Ethan had sent her a picture of it from Europe and said, This stone would suit you. She had waited for months. Now it was on someone else’s hand. “Finished showing off?” Evie asked quietly. She tried to leave. Sophia grabbed her wrist. “As long as I’m here, you’ll never have a good life.” Then, with perfect timing, Sophia screamed. “Evie! What are you doing?” She let herself fall backward over the deck rail and into the heated pool below. The splash was enormous. “Sophia!” Ethan’s roar came from behind Evie. He jumped into the water, dragged Sophia out, and cradled her against him while she trembled and cried and pointed at Evie. “I only wanted to talk to her. Why would she push me?” The crowd gathered at once. Whispers spread. Ethan crossed the deck in three strides and slapped Evie so hard she hit the ground. Blood filled her mouth. “I didn’t push her,” she said, hand pressed to her swollen cheek. “She jumped.” “Shut up. Sophia can’t even swim. You think she’d risk her life just to frame you?” Ten years of attachment lost to one tear from another woman. He ordered his guards to drag her away. “Put her in the cold storage room. Let her cool off.” It was the ship’s frozen supply compartment. The metal door slammed shut behind her. The freezing air cut through her thin dress at once. Curled in the corner, shaking, she remembered something Ethan had once told her when she was ten and half-frozen in the snow. As long as I’m here, you’ll never be cold again. So vows expired too. By the time her breathing turned shallow and her consciousness started slipping, the heavy steel door exploded open. A tall silhouette stood in the flood of light beyond.

Lucas Grant walked into the freezer and found her half-conscious in the frost. His entire expression changed. He wrapped her in his coat, lifted her into his arms, and carried her out. When Holt security tried to stop him, he gave them one word. “Move.” His men raised guns. The guards backed off. “Anyone who touches my fiancée,” Lucas said, “goes overboard.” Meanwhile, upstairs, Ethan had just calmed Sophia when his assistant rushed in white-faced. “Mr. Grant broke into the freezer and took Ms. Sterling.” Ethan overturned the table so hard the glass exploded. His heart had been uneasy from the moment she was locked in there. Now he finally knew why. When Evie woke up, she was in a warm bedroom under expensive sheets with an IV in her hand. Lucas sat nearby, turning a silver lighter between his fingers. “You saved me.” “More accurately,” he said, “I saved my future wife.” He stepped closer and touched the swelling on her face with startling gentleness. “Do you see Ethan Holt clearly now? Ten years of obedience almost bought you a freezing death.” “I see him clearly now.” He bent close and lowered his voice. “Then make a deal with me. Marry me, and I’ll give you the power to crush Ethan Holt and Sophia Grant under your heel.” She looked him straight in the eyes. “All right.” That was the moment everything changed.

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My fiancé, Evan Carter, was sleeping with my half-sister, Sophia Lynn. At our engagement party, in front of every notable name in the city, I put their intimate video up on the big screen. Overnight, I became the laughingstock of Bay City — and the Lynn family threw me headfirst into Polaris Tech, a company teetering on the edge of bankruptcy. In the middle of a downpour, I picked up a dangerous stranger and paid him half a million dollars to be my security consultant. He was quiet. He was ruthless. He noticed everything. When people came for me, he stepped up. When I was set up, he had my back. When I was accused of stealing someone else’s work, he took every bit of the blame himself. I told him to leave. All he said was, “I’ll make sure you win.” It wasn’t until every truth came to light that I finally understood — the rough stranger I’d pulled off the street was the real power behind Deep Bay Capital. Chapter 1 The night of the engagement party, I blew the whole thing up myself. I put the video on the ballroom screen — footage of my fiancé tangled up with my half-sister, right in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of their hotel room. Hundreds of people in that room. Every face that mattered in Bay City. I was wearing a custom gown worth seven figures and four-inch heels. I walked up to that stage in dead silence. Evan Carter rushed at me to grab the remote. I stepped aside and cracked him across the face with the back of my hand. The sound rang through the whole room over the premium sound system. The screen was supposed to play our love story highlight reel. Instead, it was playing high-definition security footage — the night before, the eve of our engagement party, him and my sister Sophia Lynn kissing by the window. Sophia hiked up her skirt and ran onto the stage, eyes red, reaching out to grab me. I stepped back. “Don’t touch me,” I said coldly. “You disgust me.” Evan stood there with his hand over his cheek, staring at me like he couldn’t believe what was happening. He thought I’d swallow it. That I’d keep my mouth shut to protect the Lynn family’s stake in the business. I picked up the microphone and looked out over the crowd — my father’s face had gone gray, and the guests were already whispering. “In front of everyone here tonight, I’m making this official — the engagement is over. I don’t want any part of this anymore.” I ripped the diamond necklace off my neck and threw it at Evan’s face. Then I turned and walked out of the ballroom. I pushed through the hotel doors and the rain hit me like a wall. No umbrella. No driver. For twenty-four years — ever since my mother died and that woman moved in with Sophia — I had been playing dumb. Keeping my head down. Pretending not to see. I was done pretending. I stood in the rain, shaking from the cold, my stomach cramping so badly I could barely breathe. I’d starved myself for three days to fit into that dress. A beat-up black SUV pulled up in front of me. The window rolled down. The smell of cheap tobacco drifted out. The man in the driver’s seat was wearing a faded black tank top. There was a jagged scar running down his arm. He wasn’t looking at me — he had a cigarette between his lips and his eyes fixed somewhere out in the rain. His profile was sharp enough to cut glass. “You getting in?” His voice was low and rough. I hesitated for a second, then pulled open the door and dropped into the passenger seat. “Drive.” He turned and looked at me. His eyes were black and flat, and the only thing in them was contempt. “My car. I don’t give rides to crazy women in wedding dresses.” I almost laughed. I reached into my clutch, pulled out a black card, and slapped it on the dashboard. “PIN is six zeros. There’s a million dollars on it. Get me out of here. Right now.” He looked at the card. His brow creased slightly, like he was looking at something unpleasant. Half a minute passed. He stubbed out his cigarette. “Buckle up.” The SUV roared out into the storm. Chapter 2 The inside of the car smelled like motor oil and tobacco — rough, but not unpleasant. I leaned back against the seat and closed my eyes. The pain in my stomach was getting worse. I curled in on myself and pressed hard against my abdomen, trying to hold it together. “Where to?” he asked, out of nowhere. “Doesn’t matter.” I said it through clenched teeth. The car jerked to a hard stop at the side of the road. He got out. A few minutes later he came back, damp from the rain, and tossed a plastic bag into my lap. “Eat.” I opened it. Inside was a container of hot noodle soup, still steaming, and a box of antacids. I just stared at it. How did he know my stomach was hurting? “You’ve been holding your stomach the whole time. You’re white as a ghost.” His tone hadn’t warmed at all. “I don’t want a body in my car. Bad enough already.” I looked down at the soup in my hands, and my eyes started to sting. Three years together, and my fiancé never once knew I had a serious stomach condition. A complete stranger figured it out in ten minutes. I didn’t say anything. I just ate — fast, barely stopping to breathe. Cheap noodles and hot broth. Better than anything on the table at that party tonight. By the time I finished and took the antacids, I finally felt like a human being again. I turned and looked at him properly. He was young — twenty-two, twenty-three at most — but his eyes were deep and still, like the bottom of a dry well. No light in them at all. “What’s your name?” I asked. “Luca Hale.” He kept his eyes on the road ahead. “Luca Hale.” I turned the name over in my mouth. “Good name. Has an edge to it.” I pulled out a napkin and wiped my lips. “One million. Three months of your time. You in?” He finally turned to look at me, eyes sharp with suspicion. “For what?” “My driver. Security consultant. And someone to put down a few dogs that don’t know their place.” The Lynn family and Carter family alliance had fallen apart. My father wasn’t going to let that slide. Sophia and Evan would be working against me from the shadows, too. I needed someone outside that world — someone who could protect me. This Luca Hale had something about him. A recklessness. Like he had nothing left to lose. He was quiet for a long moment. “I don’t need a million. Five hundred thousand. Half upfront, the rest when the three months are up.” That surprised me. “Deal.” “So.” He glanced over. “Where to?” I gave him an address. “East side. Polaris Tech.” It was a subsidiary under the Lynn family — barely staying afloat, bleeding out. My father had arranged it in advance, his way of punishing me for blowing up the engagement party. His idea of exile. He thought throwing me into that wreck of a company would break me. Make me crawl back. He was wrong. Polaris Tech was exactly where I was going to tear off the mask and start burning everything down. The car pulled back onto the road. The rain was easing up. I watched the city blur past the window, a cold smile pulling at the corner of my mouth. Evan Carter. Sophia Lynn. Everything you took from me — I’m coming to collect. With interest. Chapter 3 The Polaris Tech office building looked like a relic from the last century. Paint peeling off the walls. The elevator plastered with flyers and ads. I walked ahead, heels clicking against the floor. Luca followed silently behind me in a black tank top, like an immovable wall of darkness. I pushed open the conference room door and walked into a haze of smoke. A group of department managers were huddled around a table playing cards. The surface was buried under cigarette ash and takeout containers. Not one of them looked up when I walked in. “Well, well. If it isn’t the precious Miss Lynn.” It was Martin Beck, the head of the project department. “What’s the occasion? Did you actually find time in your busy schedule to grace our little dump with a visit?” He was a distant relative on Sophia’s mother’s side — planted here to skim off the top. I ignored him and walked straight to the head of the table. “Put your cards down.” Nobody moved. Martin even blew a smug smoke ring in my direction. I turned and looked at Luca. Just one look. That was enough. Luca crossed the room to where Martin was sitting. Without a word, he reached out, grabbed Martin by the collar, and hauled him clean out of his chair like he weighed nothing. “What the hell — let go of me!” Martin shrieked. Luca didn’t waste words. He grabbed Martin by the head and slammed it into the conference table. Bang. Cards and ashtrays scattered across the floor. Martin slumped over the table, bleeding, moaning into the surface. The room went dead silent. The other managers sat frozen, faces drained of color, not daring to breathe. “Now.” I leaned back in my chair and studied my fresh manicure. “Can we have a conversation?” “Starting today, I run Polaris Tech. Martin Beck — you’re fired. Pack your things and get out. The rest of you: I want every financial report and project status update from the past three years on my desk within thirty minutes. Anyone who can’t make that happen can follow him out the door.” I stood, walked out of the conference room, and didn’t look back. Luca released his grip and dropped Martin on the floor like a bag of trash, then fell into step behind me without rushing. Back in the executive office, thick with dust. I looked at Luca standing in the doorway like a dark sentinel. “Nice work.” “I get paid to work.” His tone was flat, like he’d just stepped on an ant. Over the next week, I tore through Polaris Tech like a storm. Every dead-weight freeloader was cut. Performance reviews were rewritten from the ground up. The people who’d been waiting to watch me fail went quiet. They finally understood — the so-called spoiled little rich girl who only knew how to shop was actually a viper. And she ate people alive. Throughout all of it, Luca never left my side. He barely spoke. Almost never initiated conversation. But he always had a glass of warm water ready when I needed it, and whenever I stayed late into the night, a hot meal would appear on my desk without a word. He functioned like a machine with no feelings — executing every instruction with perfect precision. But sometimes, in an unguarded moment, I’d catch him watching me. His gaze was deep and still, like he was looking through me at someone else — or like he was holding something back. Something that could break through at any moment. It unsettled me. I was used to having control over everything. But Luca was a variable I couldn’t calculate. He was too quiet. The kind of quiet that made your skin crawl. That afternoon, I was working through a proposal for a core AI algorithm. This was Polaris Tech’s only shot at survival. If we could win next month’s city contract bid, the company could turn everything around. But our current dev team couldn’t write the low-level code the contract required. Not even close. I pressed my fingers against my temples, frustration building to a breaking point. Then the office door opened. Luca stepped in. “Miss Lynn. Evan Carter is here.” The moment I heard that name, my expression went cold. “What does he want?” “He says he has a gift for you.” Luca stepped aside. Evan walked in wearing a tailored suit, looking every bit the part. Sophia was right behind him, their fingers laced together, the two of them practically glowing — like they’d shown up specifically to rub it in my face. I let out a short laugh and settled back into my chair. “Mr. Carter and Sophia — what a surprise. The engagement party never happened, so you two decided to honeymoon in my little dump instead?” Chapter 4 Evan Carter’s expression flickered for just a second before that sickening smile slid back into place. “Summer, you’re still upset with me. What happened that day — it was all a misunderstanding.” “A misunderstanding?” I raised an eyebrow. “When you had Sophia pinned against that glass wall, were you giving her CPR?” Sophia’s eyes went red instantly. “Summer, please don’t talk about Evan like that. It’s my fault — I couldn’t control my emotions—” “Shut up.” I cut her off, my voice ice-cold. “Nobody asked you. Put away the whole poor-little-me act. It makes me sick.” She shrank at my words, shoulders pulling in, and slipped behind Evan with a soft whimper, tears starting to fall. Evan pulled her close immediately, and the look he gave me was pure, undisguised contempt. “Summer Lynn, you used to be spoiled, sure — but at least you had some decency. When did you turn so cruel?” I almost laughed. “You two have a lot of nerve asking me that.” I wasn’t going to waste any more breath on them. “Say what you came to say and get out.” Evan drew a slow breath and pulled a document from his briefcase, slapping it onto my desk. “The city contract bid next month — it’s already been decided. Carter Tech has it locked.” He looked down at me with this smug, almost pitying satisfaction in his eyes. “I know you took over Polaris Tech to prove something to your father. But that company is a mess from the ground up. You have no shot.” “All you have to do is back down. Apologize to me. Sign over the development rights to the Lynn family property.” “Do that, and I’ll consider throwing Polaris a few scraps from the project. Enough to save face with your dad.” I stared at the document on the desk. My fingertips went cold. He wasn’t even trying to hide it. He didn’t just want to ruin me — he wanted to grind my dignity into nothing. Wanted me to crawl and beg. “Get out.” Two words. That was all. Evan’s face darkened like a storm rolling in. “Summer Lynn, don’t push your luck! You really think you’re still the spoiled little princess of the Lynn family? You’re nothing. You got thrown out like garbage!” He lunged forward, hand shooting out to grab my wrist. But he never made contact. A hand — knuckles sharp, grip like iron — clamped around his wrist and stopped him cold. Luca Hale. I hadn’t even heard him move. He was already beside me, his body squarely between me and Evan. “She told you to get out.” Luca’s voice was low. Dangerously quiet. Evan yanked hard against his grip — once, twice — and went nowhere. His face flushed with humiliation and fury. He jabbed a finger at Luca’s face. “Who the hell are you? You’re a security consultant. You don’t get to put your hands on me.” Luca didn’t bother to respond. His eyes went flat, and in one sharp motion, he twisted his wrist. A clean, brutal crack. Evan screamed and hit the floor on his knees, his wrist wrenched out of the socket. “Evan!” Sophia shrieked and threw herself toward him, face drained white. Luca looked down at the two of them with the same expression you’d give a pair of insects on the pavement. “Stay down. Next time it won’t just be the wrist.” Evan was drenched in sweat, trembling, eyes burning with hatred as he glared up at me and Luca. “Summer Lynn — you’ll regret this. I will make sure you can’t show your face in Bay City again.” He snarled the words through gritted teeth. Then, leaning on Sophia, he stumbled out of the executive office in a mess of pride and pain. Silence settled back over the room. I watched Luca. He stood there shaking out his wrist like he’d just tossed out a bag of trash. “You went too far,” I said, pressing my fingers to my temple. “The Carters aren’t going to let this go.” Luca turned and looked at me — really looked at me — his eyes sharp and burning with something I couldn’t quite name. “He was going to touch you.” Each word deliberate. “You’re paying me. I don’t let anyone touch you.” My heart skipped — just once, just slightly — and I turned away before he could see it. “There’s a dinner tonight,” I said, forcing the subject somewhere else. “You’re coming with me.” I had no choice. To get the funding that could save the company, I had to meet Harris — one of the most notoriously difficult investors in the circuit. Eight o’clock. A private room at the Bay Club. The lights were low, and the air was thick with the smell of alcohol. Harris was a bald man somewhere in his fifties. From the moment I walked through the door, his eyes had been crawling over me and not stopping. I kept my expression neutral and my glass in hand, playing the game through gritted teeth. “Miss Lynn,” he said, drawing it out, “I know Polaris Tech’s situation. The risk is just too high.” As he spoke, his hand drifted to my knee. “But then again… if you were to ask me yourself, personally, maybe we could work something out…” He leaned in closer. His breath hit my face, stale and suffocating. My stomach turned. I was just about to grab the wine bottle off the table and smash it over his head when the door to the private room was kicked wide open. The bang made everyone jump. Luca Hale stood in the doorway. The light from the room caught him—tight muscles, eyes cold as ice. He crossed the room in long strides, grabbed Harris by the hair, and dragged him straight off the couch. “What are you doing! Security! Security!” Harris shrieked at the top of his lungs. Luca didn’t bother responding. He grabbed a bottle of whiskey off the table and smashed it over Harris’s head. Glass shards, alcohol, and blood ran down Harris’s face. The entire room went dead silent. Luca tossed aside the broken glass and slowly, methodically wiped his hands with a napkin. Then he turned and looked at me. One word: “Let’s go.” His tone left no room for argument.

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Blurb: Joanna Stone chased Ethan Quinn for seven years, suffering cold looks and humiliation, just to complete the system mission and resurrect her true lover Liam White. One week before the wedding, Ethan’s old love Serena Blair returned to the city. He ruined Joanna’s career for Serena, forced her to apologize in public, and even let Serena try on the wedding dress she designed herself. Joanna endured it all because she just wanted the wedding to go smoothly. But on the wedding day, Ethan abandoned her in public for Serena, destroying her last hope with his own hands. After the mission failed, Joanna completely disappeared. Later, Ethan learned that the woman he had never cherished had never come to love him from the beginning. “Welcome to my food livestream channel. Today I will show you one of Graybridge’s hardest-to-book fine dining restaurants…” Joanna Stone showed her iconic smile to the camera, with several exquisite and picturesque dishes in front of her. As a leading food streamer with over 10 million fans on the Internet, her livestream online audience instantly exceeded 100,000. Just as she was about to take her first bite, the private room door was suddenly pushed open. There was a burst of chaotic footsteps and joking laughter. “Well, if it isn’t Mr. Quinn’s shadow. What, he doesn’t have time for you today, so you came here to smile for money?” Joanna’s hand holding the knife and fork paused, and the smile froze on her face. The visitors were several well-known wealthy men from Graybridge, and the one in the middle was her fiancé whom she had been chasing for seven years and who was about to get married in a week — Ethan Quinn. Ethan was wearing a neatly tailored black haute couture suit, with a stern look on his face, and undisguised indifference and boredom in his dark eyes. He just glanced at her, as if looking at a cheap ornament. “Ethan, your fiancée is so down-to-earth. The bride-to-be of the Quinn family is not ashamed to advertise the restaurant online every day.” The person next to him deliberately raised his voice. The livestream barrage exploded instantly. [What is going on? Anna is engaged to the president of Quinn Group?] [These people are awful. Since when is being a food streamer shameful?] [Look at Quinn’s face. He clearly can’t stand her. Is she the one clinging to him?] Joanna took a deep breath, ignored the harsh taunts, and just looked at Ethan quietly. “I’m working.” Her voice was soft but enough for everyone to hear clearly. Ethan walked up to her and looked down at her condescendingly. He stretched out his slender fingers and pressed directly on her phone holder, with a cold tone: “Turn it off.” “I have signed a contract for this promotion, and the penalty fee…” “I told you to shut it down.” Ethan cut her off, anger flashing in his eyes. “Joanna, have you forgotten who you are? The Quinn family does not need someone chasing attention online.” A sharp pain stabbed through Joanna’s chest, like a cluster of fine needles. Joanna pursed her lips, looked at his cold face, and finally reached out and forcibly cut off the livestream in front of 100,000 viewers. The moment the screen went black, the room burst into laughter. “Hahaha, Ethan really trained her well. So obedient. He says turn it off, and she turns it off.” “Since the livestream is off, why don’t you serve us today, Ms. Food Streamer? We haven’t eaten yet. Clear this table and serve us again.” This blatant humiliation made Joanna’s fingertips dig deep into her palms. She looked up at Ethan, trying to find a hint of protection in his eyes. No. Ethan just walked to the main seat and sat down, leaning against the back of the chair lazily, and coldly uttered two words: “Pour the wine.” He acquiesced in their humiliation. In fact, he was the leader of this humiliation. Joanna felt a little sore in her eyes, but she held it back. She stood up, picked up the decanter on the table, walked to Ethan, bent slightly, and slowly poured the red wine into his glass. “That’s right. Know your position.” The young master next to him laughed more and more crazily. Joanna was like a soulless puppet, mechanically pouring wine and serving dishes for them, and listened to their bottomless belittling of her career and origins. [Ding—] A mechanical electronic tone suddenly rang in her mind. [Host, mission progress has reached 99%. As long as your wedding to Ethan is completed in one week, you will receive the final reward.] Hearing this sound, Joanna’s tense body miraculously relaxed. It doesn’t matter, she told herself. As long as she can get through this week, as long as the wedding goes smoothly, she can complete the system’s mission. She didn’t care how Ethan humiliated her, nor did she care whether he loved her or not. She did all this, endured all the injustice and followed him for seven years, just in exchange for the only reward — resurrecting her true lover, Liam White. “Enough. Looking at you ruins my appetite.” Ethan suddenly set down his glass with a sharp clink. He stood without sparing her another glance. “Go settle the bill, then get out.” Joanna lowered her head and responded softly: “Okay.” She turned towards the bar and settled the six-figure bill. When she walked out of the restaurant, it started to rain heavily outside. The cold rain hit her face, but she didn’t hide. She just looked at the countdown on the screen of her phone. Seven days left. Liam, wait for me.

The villa was eerily empty and unpopular late at night. Joanna took a hot bath, put on clean home clothes, and sat on the sofa in the living room to wait for Ethan. Today is their third engagement anniversary. On the coffee table were cakes she had made by herself, as well as a table of completely cold dishes. She waited until two o’clock in the morning, but there was no movement at the gate. She picked up her phone and opened her chat with Ethan. The last message was still the one she had sent that afternoon: [Come home early today. I made your favorite dishes.] There had been no reply. Just when she was about to throw away the cold meal, her phone suddenly vibrated. It’s not Ethan’s message, but a push that the social platform pays special attention to. She clicked on the screen and what came into view was a high-definition photo taken secretly at the airport. In the photo, Ethan, who has always been mysophobic and doesn’t like to be touched by others, is holding a woman wearing a white windbreaker tightly in his arms. His eyes were full of enthusiasm and lost treasure that Joanna had never seen in the past seven years. The woman was wearing sunglasses, but Joanna recognized her at a glance—Serena Blair, Ethan’s first love, and the old obsession in his heart that he couldn’t touch or forget. Three years ago, Serena dumped Ethan without mercy and went abroad to study in order to pursue her dream of dancing. Ethan stood in the heavy rain all night with a high fever. Joanna took care of him sleeplessly for three days and three nights. Later, he agreed to Joanna’s proposal. Everyone said that Joanna finally warmed up the iceberg after seven years of humility. But only Joanna knew that he was just angry. Now, Serena is back. Joanna looked at the photo quietly, and there was no heartbreaking feeling in her heart as she expected, only a kind of numbness that finally fell to the ground. There was a beeping sound from the door combination lock. Ethan walked in with a chill, his suit jacket hanging on his arms, the collar of his shirt slightly open, showing a rare mixture of exhaustion and excitement. Seeing Joanna sitting on the sofa, the emotion on his face instantly calmed down and returned to his frosty look. “Why haven’t you slept yet?” He said calmly. “Waiting for you.” Joanna stood up and pointed to the cake on the table, “Today is the engagement anniversary.” Ethan’s eyes stayed on the cake for a second, then moved away, and said impatiently: “I forgot. I’m very tired, so I went to take a shower first.” He didn’t explain or apologize. “Ethan.” Joanna stopped him, “Serena is back, right?” Ethan’s steps suddenly stopped. He turned around and his eyes instantly became sharp, as if he was examining a prisoner who had crossed the line: “Are you investigating me?” “You guys have become a hot topic.” Joanna raised her phone. Ethan saw the photo on the screen clearly. Instead of being embarrassed by being exposed, Ethan sneered confidently: “Since you saw it, I won’t hide it from you. Serena has just returned to this city and is not emotionally stable. I will spend more time with her during this time.” “What about our wedding?” Joanna asked the question she was most concerned about. “The wedding is as usual.” Ethan tugged on his tie, with a pity-like compensatory arrogance in his voice, “Joanna, you should be content. Mrs. Quinn’s position is yours. For the rest, you’d better not expect anything else, and don’t disturb Serena.” After saying that, he went upstairs without looking back. Joanna stood there, looking at the exquisite cake on the table, and suddenly felt a little funny. She picked up the knife, cut a piece of cake and stuffed it into her mouth. It’s so sweet that it tastes bitter. Ethan thought she loved him so much that she had no dignity, and thought she couldn’t live without him. But he didn’t know that what she wanted was never his love, nor the position of Mrs. Quinn. [Host, emotional fluctuation detected in the male lead. Please stabilize the plot and make sure the wedding proceeds smoothly.] The system’s voice sounded at the right moment. “I know.” Joanna swallowed the bitter cake and poured the rest into the trash can. As long as he didn’t cancel the wedding, she didn’t care who he accompanied or who he loved. After washing and lying on the bed, Joanna closed her eyes, and Liam’s gentle and jade-like face appeared in her mind. “Anna, when I get better, we will go to the beach to watch the sunrise.” Those were the last words Liam said to her before he died. For this promise, she endured seven years in this cold world. Come on, Liam. Six days to go.

In the early morning, she was awakened by a series of phone calls from her agent Maya Reed. “Joanna, look at the social media platform! The producer of the global food documentary “Flavor Search” that you have been preparing for half a year suddenly and unilaterally announced a replacement!” She sat up suddenly, no longer feeling sleepy. “Flavor Pathfinding” is the most important part of her career. In order to win the position of the resident host, she did not rest for more than half a year. She traveled to many countries to test dishes and write plans. She even suffered from acute gastritis due to overwork. The producer just confirmed the final contract with her yesterday, so why did she suddenly change her? She quickly opened her social media platform, and the first one on the hot topic list was: #Serena Blair airborne flavor search# Click on it to see the latest official announcement released by the producer. The picture is of Serena Blair wearing a white dress and smiling innocently. The comment section was in an uproar. Her fans were frantically defending their rights, while Serena’s fans were mocking her for not having enough status and saying that Internet celebrities should not touch porcelain artists. Her fingers were trembling slightly, and she immediately dialed the number of the producer’s chief director. “Director Harris, what on earth is going on? Hasn’t our contract already…” “Ms. Stone, I’m really sorry.” Director Harris’ tone was helpless and flattering, “This is not something we can decide. Quinn Group suddenly fully acquired the production company last night, and Mr. Quinn personally said that he would give this position to Miss Serena.” There was a bang. Her mind went blank. She hung up the phone, took a taxi and rushed to the Quinn Group headquarters without even changing her clothes. Arriving at the executive’s office unimpeded, she pushed open the door to Ethan Quinn’s office. In the office, Ethan Quinn was sitting on a large leather chair, while Serena Blair was sitting on the sofa next to him, holding a cup of coffee in her hand, and the two were talking and laughing. Seeing her barging in, Serena immediately put down her coffee cup and shrank behind Ethan. “Ethan…” Her voice was delicate. Ethan’s face instantly darkened and he stared at her coldly: “Who taught you the rule of not knocking when you enter?” “Why?” She ignored his scolding and walked straight to the desk, staring at him. “”Flavor Pathfinding” is the hard work I have been preparing for half a year. Why did you give it to her with just one sentence?” Ethan leaned back in his chair, his eyes contemptuous: “I am an investor.” He stood up, walked to Serena, patted her shoulder gently, and when he looked at her again, there was only coldness in his eyes. “Serena has just returned to this city and needs a program with a wide audience coverage to regain her popularity. As a blogger of a broken shop, what is the use of such resources? It’s just to eat and Drink.” “Potan shop blogger?” She laughed angrily, but her eyes were red, “Ethan Quinn, that is my career! It was the opportunity I bought after spending countless late nights and getting rejected! In order to please her, are you going to destroy my hard work?” “Watch your words.” Ethan frowned and said in a serious tone, “Serena is a classical dancer, and her temperament is more suitable for this kind of high-end documentary than you. If you want resources, I will ask my assistant to arrange the promotion of several big-name skin care products for you. Don’t make trouble here.” “I don’t want promotion, I just want “Flavor Pathfinding”.” She looked at him stubbornly. At this time, Serena gently pulled Ethan’s sleeve, her eyes were slightly red: “Ethan, forget it, since Ms. Stone likes it so much, I will just give it back to her. I don’t want to affect your relationship because of me.” “Don’t give in.” Ethan held Serena’s hand in his hand and looked at her sharply. “Joanna, do you have to be so fussy about it? Serena has suffered a lot abroad. What’s wrong with me compensating her with a show? As my future wife, you don’t even have this generosity?” What ridiculous logic. He used her hard work to compensate for his obsession with his old love, and blamed her for not being generous enough. She looked at the two people’s clasped hands, and her heart seemed to be clenched tightly by a big invisible hand, which was so painful that she couldn’t breathe. This is the man she has been conquering for seven years. Cold-blooded, selfish, trampling on her dignity and hard work. “Okay, I’m generous.” She took a deep breath and pushed back the tears in her eyes. She looked at Ethan and said word by word, “Ethan Quinn, I gave this program to her.” Ethan was stunned for a moment, as if he didn’t expect that she would compromise so easily. He looked at her eyes that were so calm that they were almost lifeless, and he felt inexplicably irritated in his heart. “You know what’s going on.” He snorted coldly. Without looking at them again, she turned and walked out of the office. The moment she closed the door, she leaned against the cold wall, gasping for air. It doesn’t matter, she told herself again. Five days to go. Once the mission is completed, she will no longer have to suffer this kind of torture.

The storm of substitutions in “Flavour Pathfinding” has not subsided yet, and an even bigger storm is following. That afternoon, Serena Blair posted a photo of herself on an IV at the hospital, with the caption: [My first big meal after returning to this city, and I ended up spending it in the ER. Everyone, please be careful about restaurant hygiene.] In the background, the takeout bag from a well-known private restaurant was faintly visible. And this private restaurant was the one she had strongly recommended in the livestream the day before yesterday. Serena’s fans immediately rushed into her social account like sharks smelling blood. [Shameless blogger! She took dirty money to recommend a trash restaurant and gave our Serena food poisoning!][People like this will promote anything for money. This is practically attempted murder for profit!][Ban Joanna! Make her disappear from public view!] In just two hours, the terms #Joanna Stone Fake Store Visit# and #Serena Blair Food Poisoning became hot topics on social platforms. The reputation she had accumulated for seven years was about to collapse in an instant. She immediately contacted the owner of the restaurant and verified the monitoring and meal delivery records of the day. All ingredients had strict inspection and quarantine certificates, and there was no possibility of food poisoning. This is a complete frame-up. She had just compiled the clarification evidence and was ready to release it when the door of the villa was pushed open violently. Ethan Quinn strode in with violent anger, grabbed the laptop from her hand, and smashed it to the ground. There was a loud “bang” and the screen shattered instantly. “Ethan Quinn, why are you crazy!” She stood up and looked at him angrily. “Am I crazy?” Ethan grabbed her chin with such force that he almost crushed her bones, his eyes were scarlet. “Joanna, do you dare to say that Serena’s food poisoning was not caused by you? Because I gave her the show, you held a grudge and deliberately recommended that unclean restaurant to her!” “I didn’t!” She was forced to raise her head, tears welling up in her eyes because of the pain, “There’s nothing wrong with that restaurant, it’s her who is acting!” “Bang!” A hospital diagnosis report was thrown hard on her face, and the sharp edge of the paper scratched her cheek, leaving a thin trail of blood. “It says acute gastroenteritis in black and white, and you still dare to quibble!” Ethan’s voice was as cold as ice. “Joanna, I only thought you were clingy and humble before, but I didn’t expect you to be so vicious!” She didn’t read the report. She knew that with Ethan’s methods, it would be easy to get a fake medical certificate. He didn’t care about the truth at all, he only cared that Serena had been wronged. “What do you want?” Her voice was as light as a gust of wind, revealing deep weakness. “Apologize.” Ethan let go of his hand, took out a handkerchief and wiped his fingers in disgust, “Start a livestream immediately and apologize to Serena in front of the entire network. Admit that you took the black money and made false publicity.” Her eyes suddenly widened and she looked at him in disbelief. Admitting to false advertising would have completely ruined her career in the content industry. The credibility she has accumulated step by step over the past seven years will be destroyed in one day! “Ethan Quinn, you are forcing me to death.” She was shaking all over. “You owe her this.” Ethan showed no mercy. “If you don’t do it, I will have the entire local media ban you tomorrow. Guess whether the penalty fee you face will make you go to jail?” He is threatening her with what she cares about most… More importantly, if she is banned from the entire network or even faces a lawsuit, the wedding in a week will definitely be affected, and the system’s mission will fail. Joanna looked at the man in front of her who she had loved for seven years but was so cruel to her. The last spark in her heart went out completely. “Okay, I apologize.” Ten minutes later, she started the livestream. She had no makeup, there was a faint bloodstain on her cheek, and her face was as pale as paper. Millions of people flooded into the livestream instantly, and the barrage was full of unsightly abuse. Ethan stood outside the camera, watching her coldly. She bowed deeply to the camera. “I’m sorry. It was me who accepted sponsorship from the restaurant and carried out false publicity, which caused Ms. Serena’s physical harm. I am here to solemnly apologize to Ms. Serena and all the fans who trust me.” Every word seemed to linger in her soul. She personally tore her seven years of hard work into pieces in front of everyone. The comments in the barrage were loud and loud, and the rate of followers dropping was visible to the naked eye. Ethan looked at her obedient look, but his heart was not as happy as he expected. Instead, he felt as if he was blocked by something and felt uncomfortable. After the livestream ended, she slumped on the chair, like a rag doll whose soul had been drained. Ethan walked up to her and said condescendingly: “Recognize the reality early and stop doing these little tricks. Just wait and be your bride.” She didn’t look up, just looked at the countdown to the wedding on her phone. Four days to go. Liam, she’s so tired. But for you, she can endure anything.

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He dropped to his knees right there under my apartment building. In front of Aiden Hall. That man who had spent three years married to me without ever truly looking at me. That man who had treated me like air for the sake of Sophie Dane. Now the president of Cole Capital was kneeling in the rain, soaked through, apologizing again and again like his life depended on it. How funny. Where was he when his mother humiliated me with money? Where was he when I spent night after night alone in an empty house, unable to sleep? Now that I had dragged him into court and ruined his reputation, he suddenly wanted to call it love? I looked at his bloodshot eyes and felt nothing. Only contempt. Love that comes too late is cheaper than dirt. What he did not know was that my revenge had only just begun. And he knew even less about the real tragedy behind our marriage. The whole thing had been a lie from the start, staged by the people closest to him. 0 My thirty-second birthday happened to be the third anniversary of my marriage to Grayson Cole. At five o’clock sharp, I left work and went to the grocery store. I bought sea bass, asparagus, and a small cut of steak. Every one of them was something he had once mentioned at dinner in passing. I remembered everything. Back at the suburban villa everyone called home, the silence felt like another kind of weather. The housekeeper had already left. There was no sound in that huge place except my breathing. I changed out of my lawyer’s suit, tied on an apron, and walked into the kitchen. For one brief second, I caught my own reflection and nearly laughed. In court I fought over property division and dignity for other women. At home I played the role of a good wife waiting for her husband to come back. I had been performing that part for three years. Long enough to nearly believe it. At eight, the table was set. Four dishes. One soup. A glass of red wine for me. I waited. At nine, the food went cold. I reheated everything. At ten, it went cold again. This time I left it there. It takes three minutes to reheat a dish. How long does it take to warm a dead heart? At ten-thirty, the code lock at the front door beeped. He was home. His steps were steady as always. He smelled like a sweet floral perfume that was not his. My stomach turned. He glanced at the table, then tossed me a branded envelope from some luxury department store. “Allowance,” he said. That was his preferred way to fulfill his duty as a husband. Efficient. Convenient. Emotionless. I looked up at him. “Grayson, do you remember what today is?” He paused while loosening his tie, frowned as if he had been handed a difficult equation, then gave up. “Not important.” Then he went upstairs. Not important. My birthday was not important. Our wedding anniversary was not important. The evening I had spent preparing everything was not important. I poured my wine down in one swallow, got up, and dumped the fish, the asparagus, the steak, and the soup into the trash one by one. It sounded like a funeral. A quick, careless one for a three-year marriage. Then I messaged my best friend Chloe Benson. I decided. 0

The next morning, I was in court at nine o’clock sharp. My client was a woman who had survived ten years of domestic abuse. Broken nose twice. Cigarette burns on both arms. Her husband refused to divorce her unless she surrendered her property rights and gave up their child. She trembled in the hallway before the hearing. “Ms. Sutton… I’m scared.” I squeezed her hand. “Don’t be. From today on, no one touches you again. I will get back everything they took from you.” The opposing counsel tried to call ten years of violence “ordinary marital conflict.” I answered with hospital reports, witness recordings, bloody clothing, and screenshots of the husband’s drunken boasts about how he disciplined his wife. By closing argument, the room was silent. “The law is not here to excuse power,” I said. “It is here to protect the weak. Marriage should never become a cover for violence. My client is not here for pity. She is here for justice, dignity, and what is hers.” We won. Seventy percent of the marital property to my client. Full custody of the child. Monthly support. A restraining order. When I got back to Benson & Sutton, Chloe already had coffee waiting. She was my law school friend, my best friend, and my partner. “So Her Majesty has returned victorious?” I dropped into the sofa. “Her Majesty is exhausted.” Chloe tilted her head. “You go into court and tear men apart for other women, then go home and let your own husband ignore your existence. Terrible business model, Mia.” “Exactly,” I said. “So I’m done.” I opened a blank document and typed five words: Divorce Settlement Agreement. Chloe watched quietly for a long moment, then only said, “Fine. Tonight I’m buying dinner. And none of it is cooked by you.” 0

The first draft came fast. Clear logic. Clean clauses. When I reached the property section, I stopped. The villa. The luxury cars. The unlimited secondary card Grayson had given me. Three years ago, my family put a price on me. Three hundred thousand dollars. Now I was buying myself back. So I wrote a single sentence: I voluntarily waive all rights to division of marital property. Not because I was noble. Because I wanted nothing tying me to him anymore, least of all money. I needed the policy number from the one insurance plan we held jointly, so I texted Grayson. Where’s the insurance contract? Study. Third cabinet on the left. It was the first time in three years I had entered his study. The room smelled like his cologne and looked exactly like him. Dark, precise, expensive, and completely lifeless. I found the contract. Then I noticed the top drawer of his desk. Unlocked. That was unusual for Grayson. I opened it. Inside was a velvet box. Inside the box was a silver photo frame. In the picture, Grayson was smiling. Really smiling. It was a version of his face I had never seen. In his arms was Sophie Dane in a white dress, laughing into the camera. His fiancée who had run the night before their wedding. His great unfinished love. On the back of the frame was an engraved line in his handwriting. My Sophie. My only one. I stood there holding it while the last of my self-deception died quietly. I was not even a substitute. I had been a temporary bandage over a social embarrassment. I put the frame back exactly as I found it and walked downstairs. Grayson was in the living room watching financial news. “Found it?” “Yes.” I set the insurance contract down and looked him in the eye. “Grayson, we need to talk.” 0

He turned off the television. The silence that followed was immediate and heavy. “About what?” I did not answer directly. “We’re going to the main house this weekend.” That was the Cole family rule. First weekend of every month. For three years it had felt like attending a funeral. This time, I needed to go. I needed the right opening. At lunch the next day, Evelyn Cole finally raised the subject she always circled sooner or later. “Mia, you’ve been married to Grayson for three years now. Why is there still no child? This family needs an heir.” Every relative at the table looked at me. Sympathy. Curiosity. Mockery. I looked only at my husband. He lowered his head and drank his soup, as if his mother were speaking about the weather and not about his wife sitting three feet away. That was Grayson. Every time this family made me bleed, he chose silence. Not a bystander. An accomplice. I smiled politely and said, “You’re right. I haven’t done well enough.” Evelyn seemed pleased by my obedience. On the drive home, Grayson finally said, “Don’t take what my mother says seriously.” I laughed. “I don’t. I just finally understood something. We need to talk. Properly this time.”

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I was scrolling through Reddit on my phone when a trending post caught my eye in the local community sub. “I’m an Uber driver. I’m looking for a woman named Natalie who lives at The Aspen Apartments.” “Just so you know, your fiancé married his childhood best friend seven years ago. They already have a son and a daughter together.” The comments were blowing up instantly. “Holy crap, this is wild.” “OP, give us more details! There are probably fifty girls named Natalie in that complex.” The original poster replied: “The guy has a distinctive birthmark right under his left eye. I didn’t get a good look at the woman because he was holding her close in his arms the entire ride.” Staring at the screen, a cold shiver ran down my spine. It took me a few seconds to process the words, but the realization hit me like a physical blow. The man they were describing… was Carter. My fiancé. My hands shook so violently I could barely hold my phone. No wonder. Every single time I brought up our wedding date, Carter would get annoyed and tell me there was no rush. It turned out he already had a whole other family waiting for him. Suddenly, my phone buzzed with a text notification. “Hi Natalie, this is the bridal boutique. Your wedding dress has been altered to your measurements. When would you like to come in for your final fitting?” I blinked, trying to force back the hot, stinging tears in my eyes. “Cancel it,” I typed back. “And process the refund.” If he couldn’t give me a real home, I would find someone else who could.

It was past 1:00 AM when Carter finally got home. Seeing me still sitting in the living room, he kicked off his shoes and asked casually, “The boutique called me. They said you canceled the wedding dress? What’s wrong with it?” I looked up at him, my voice completely flat. “I just realized I don’t want it anymore.” He frowned, instantly irritated. “You were the one begging me to get married, and now the wedding is literally next week. Can you stop acting on a whim?” “Didn’t you choose that dress yourself? What kind of drama are you trying to stir up now?” The mug of coffee in my hands had gone ice cold. Yes, I was the one who picked it out. But it wasn’t the dress I actually wanted. During our three fitting appointments, he had brought Chloe along every single time. I wanted a sleek, elegant satin gown. Chloe insisted that a puffy lace tulle dress was much better. So, Carter spent the entire time subtly and not-so-subtly pressuring me into choosing the tulle. I wanted a simple white-gold band. Chloe said she preferred a classic diamond solitaire. So, behind my back, Carter switched the ring order. I slowly set my coffee mug down on the table and looked him straight in the eye. “Carter, I hate tulle. I’ve always wanted satin.” His hands paused as he unbuttoned his coat. His face immediately darkened with impatience. “Are you seriously throwing a tantrum over a fabric?” “Yes. Over this exact fabric.” “Natalie, if you’re really that bored and have nothing better to do, I can ask Chloe to sign you up for a domestic etiquette class. They teach you how to actually support your husband instead of picking fights.” I stared at him. “Like how Chloe supports you?” For the past ten years, no matter what I did, Carter would always compare me to Chloe. My cooking was never as good as Chloe’s. My housekeeping skills were nothing compared to hers. He even had the nerve to say these things right in front of my parents. Once, my mom took me aside and quietly asked if I wanted to reconsider my relationship with him. But I refused. Because I could never forget the night I casually mentioned wanting late-night spicy wings, and he drove twenty miles through a torrential thunderstorm just to bring them to me. I still remembered when he only had $20 left in his bank account, but he spent $19 to buy me a box of organic cherries from Whole Foods because he knew they were my favorite. Carter sat down across from me, sighing heavily. “Is it really that hard for you to admit that Chloe is just more capable than you?” “Then why the hell are you with me?!” I screamed back, my eyes burning with tears. Carter seemed to realize he had gone too far. He let out a long breath, softening his voice. “I didn’t mean it like that.” “Fine. If you don’t like the dress, you don’t like it. Chloe knows a few high-end bridal designers. I’ll ask her tomorrow if she can rush a new one before next week.” I tried my best to swallow the bitter, suffocating pain rising in my chest. “Oh, perfect. So she can have another chance to design a dress she loves? Who knows, maybe she’ll just wear it herself.” Carter’s expression finally cracked. Underneath his sudden anger, I saw a flash of sheer guilt. “Do you really have to be this toxic tonight?” I almost wanted to laugh. Carter was always like this. The moment Chloe was involved, he could spin black into white. Wrong became right. And his protection was something I would never, ever receive.

The argument ended with him slamming the door and storming out. The next morning, when I woke up, the sound of children laughing and shouting echoed from the living room. I opened my bedroom door and found my neat, clean apartment in absolute chaos. The hand-woven throw blanket that Carter had supposedly custom-ordered for me was currently being trampled under the dirty shoes of Chloe’s young daughter. “Oh, Natalie, you’re finally awake!” Chloe chirped, looking up. Before I could say anything, she turned toward the kitchen and called out, “Carter! Natalie’s up. Serve another bowl of oatmeal!” Carter walked out of the kitchen, looking incredibly awkward. “Uh… I only made enough for the four of us.” “There’s some leftover peanut butter toast in the pantry. You want that?” I shook my head. “No, thanks. You guys go ahead.” He set his bowl down and walked over to me. “Are you still mad at me?” “Even if you’re mad, you shouldn’t skip breakfast. Especially with your sensitive stomach.” I looked at him. At that moment, my chest felt like it was packed with heavy, wet cotton. I could barely breathe. I let out a slow, cold breath. “Carter, do you even remember what I’m allergic to?” He froze for two seconds, a sudden flash of panic crossing his face. “Oh… right. Babe, I’m sorry. I forgot.” He didn’t forget. He just never cared enough to remember. He couldn’t remember that peanut butter could literally send me into anaphylactic shock. Yet, he never failed to deliver a warm cup of ginger tea to Chloe on the exact day her period started every single month. “If you don’t want to eat, then don’t. Why do you always have to make my mom and dad feel bad?” The little boy speaking was Chloe’s seven-year-old son, Mason. His presence was a loud, mocking reminder of how incredibly stupid I had been. I had once asked Carter why Chloe’s children carried his last name, Miller. At the time, he had told me: “Chloe and I made a pact when we were younger. We promised we’d be co-parents to each other’s kids if anything happened. Since their biological father walked out and they don’t have a dad, it’s only right they take my name so they don’t get bullied at school.” And back then, like an idiot, I believed him. Chloe gave me an apologetic, sweet smile. “Kids are just protective of their parents. Don’t take it personally, Natalie.” I didn’t say a word. I grabbed my purse and walked toward the front door. “Where are you going?” Carter grabbed my wrist. “I’m hungry.” His grip slowly loosened, and he didn’t ask anything else. “Come back early.” The only response he got was the sound of the door slamming shut. I drove to the local diner that Carter and I used to visit every weekend. I ordered a plate of blueberry pancakes, crispy bacon, and a hot mug of black coffee. “Carter came in a while ago,” Bob, the diner owner, said as he brought my food. “I was wondering why you weren’t with him.” “But hey, glad to see you today!” I swallowed a bite of pancake and forced a polite smile. “Your pancakes are the best in town, Bob. Of course I’d come back.” Bob grinned widely. “Then how come you didn’t join him last time?” “He was here with a woman and two kids. I honestly thought that was you…” Behind him, his wife, Mary, quickly tugged at his apron. Bob realized his mistake instantly, his face turning red. “Anyway! You need anything else, sweetheart? On the house!” I shook my head. “I’m good, Bob. Thank you. I have to run.” My schedule for the day was packed. 10:00 AM: Hair and makeup trial. 1:00 PM: Wedding photoshoot. And in the evening, I had to finalize the guest list and RSVPs. Fortunately, I wasn’t doing any of this alone anymore.

At 8:00 PM, Carter called me. The background was incredibly noisy, filled with the shrieks and laughter of children. “Where are you? My mom wants us to come over for Thanksgiving dinner.” Anticipating my refusal, Carter quickly added, “Mom specifically told me to make sure you come with me.” “I’m at the bridal salon.” “Send me the address. I’ll pick you up.” After a brief silence, I texted him the address. Carter arrived incredibly fast, almost as if he had already been waiting nearby. I walked up to the car and reached for the front passenger door. It was locked. As I reached for it a second time, the window rolled down. “I’m so sorry, Natalie,” Chloe said with a sweet, helpless smile from the passenger seat. “I get terrible motion sickness if I sit in the back. Do you mind?” I stood there, motionless. Carter cleared his throat. “Natalie, she gets sick easily. Just let her have the seat.” Let her have it? I hadn’t said a single word, yet somehow, I was the one being difficult. Carter frowned impatiently. “My parents are waiting. Just get in, quickly.” I turned and opened the back door. There were three seats in the back. Two of them were taken up by bulky child safety seats. The remaining middle seat was piled high with shopping bags and toys. Chloe turned around, looking embarrassed. “Carter took us to the theme park today, and the kids got a little carried away with the souvenirs.” “You don’t mind squeezing in a bit, do you, Natalie?” It was only then that I noticed all four of them were wearing matching family outfits. I didn’t say a word. I squeezed into the tight space, closed my eyes, and leaned my head against the cold window. During the entire drive, the two of them chatted happily about parenting styles and planning their next summer vacation. Not once was I included in any of those plans. The moment we walked through the door, Carter’s mother, Mrs. Miller, rushed over with a huge smile. “Chloe, darling! You’re finally here! Come in, come in!” “And look at my beautiful grandbaby boy and girl!” Mrs. Miller completely bypassed me, pulling Chloe toward the dining room. Carter followed right behind, carrying the kids. I was left standing at the entrance like an invisible ghost. At the dinner table, Mr. and Mrs. Miller sat at the head. Carter sat next to Chloe and the kids. I was placed at the very end of the long table, next to the kitchen door. “Chloe, try this. I made all of your favorites tonight!” Mrs. Miller said warmly. I glanced over the table. They had invited me under the guise of a family holiday, yet there wasn’t a single dish on the table that I wasn’t allergic to or that I actually liked. “Natalie,” Mrs. Miller suddenly spoke up, her voice dropping its warmth. “I heard you canceled the dress Chloe worked so hard to find for you?” I took a sip of my water. “Yes.” Mrs. Miller’s brow furrowed in deep disapproval. “How could you just cancel it like that? Do you have any idea how much time and effort Chloe put into picking that out for you? You are so ungrateful.” I set my glass down, my voice quiet but firm. “Because it’s my wedding.” Mrs. Miller pointed a finger at me, her face red. “You are such an stubborn, difficult girl!” Carter didn’t even look up. He was fully occupied cutting the steak on Chloe’s plate and feeding the kids. After the miserable dinner finally ended, Mrs. Miller immediately told me to clean up the table and wash the dishes. Meanwhile, Chloe sat comfortably in the living room, eating fresh fruit that Carter was peeling for her. Suddenly, my lower abdomen cramped painfully. My phone buzzed. A custom alarm went off, and Carter’s recorded voice played through the speaker: “Hey babe, your period is starting today. Remember to stay warm and don’t touch cold water, okay?” Carter had set that reminder himself years ago. He had said, “I have a terrible memory, so this way I won’t ever forget to look after you.” But now I realized it wasn’t about his memory. He just never kept me in his heart. He remembered Chloe’s favorite foods, the exact dates of her cycle, and every little preference of those two kids. He just couldn’t remember mine. “Let me take over. Go rest.” Carter suddenly appeared and took the dish towel from my hand. In the living room, Chloe and Mrs. Miller were playing with Lego blocks with the kids. Mr. Miller was sitting on the patio, peacefully sipping his tea. Only I stood there, feeling like an unwanted intruder in someone else’s perfect family. At 9:00 PM, a massive storm rolled in, rain lashing against the windows. “Chloe, you and the kids are staying here tonight,” Mrs. Miller announced. Chloe shot a quick, guilty glance at me. “But there’s only Carter’s room. Where will he sleep?” Mrs. Miller patted her hand reassuringly. “Natalie isn’t married into the family yet, so it’s not appropriate for her to sleep over anyway. Carter can just sleep on the couch.” Then, she turned to me with a fake, polite smile. “Natalie, it’s getting late and the storm is bad. It’s not safe for a girl to drive alone, so I won’t keep you any longer.” I nodded, grabbed my purse, and walked out without another word. Carter ran out after me, grabbing my arm in the hallway. “Natalie, don’t overthink this. My mom is just looking out for your reputation.” I violently shook his hand off and took a step back.

“Carter, do you really not see how differently your family treats me compared to Chloe?” “Or is the truth just that the daughter-in-law you all wanted was never me, but her?” A flash of pure guilt washed over Carter’s face, and his voice became stiff. “How can you say something so ridiculous? My mom just treats Chloe like her own daughter.” “Look, if we made you feel bad, I apologize.” He leaned down to meet my eyes, softening his tone. “I know you can be a bit sensitive and jealous. I’ll make sure to pay more attention next time, okay?” “Don’t frown so much. You’re going to be the most beautiful bride next week.” “Carter,” I said quietly, “I already canceled the entire wedding.” He chuckled, not taking me seriously at all. “I know. Didn’t you just book a different venue and dress today? I saw the charge.” But the groom wasn’t him anymore. I opened my mouth, but the words stayed trapped in my throat. I chose to stay silent. As Carter escorted me to my Uber, I called out to him just before closing the door. “Carter, come home early tomorrow morning.” He frowned. “Is something wrong? I promised Mason I’d take him to the arcade tomorrow morning.” I looked at him, a bitter taste filling my mouth. Mason had only mentioned the arcade once at the dinner table, and Carter remembered it perfectly. But the appointment I had reminded him of multiple times was completely wiped from his brain. “Tomorrow morning is my post-surgery checkup for my fractured wrist.” He froze, looking incredibly conflicted. “Can… can you reschedule it to the afternoon? I really don’t want to break my promise to a kid.” “Never mind. I’ll go talk to Mason tonight and see if we can go to the arcade later. I’ll text you in the morning.” But I never received that text. I waited until noon the next day, alone. I went to the hospital by myself, registered, and waited in line for an hour. After the examination, the doctor’s face was grim. “The bone isn’t healing well at all. Have you not been resting it?” I remained silent for a moment. “I’ve been busy… preparing for a wedding next week.” “Can’t the groom handle those things? Let me be blunt, if you keep straining this wrist, you’re looking at permanent nerve damage.” Holding my medical report, I sat on the hallway bench for a long time before finally heading back to the apartment. The moment I pushed the door open, a small white dog rushed out, barking aggressively at me. Having been severely bitten by a stray dog when I was a child, my survival instinct kicked in. I reflexively kicked the dog away. Mason was the first to run out of the bedroom. Seeing the dog whimpering on the floor, he screamed in rage and charged straight at me, slamming his body into mine. I instinctively raised my hands to protect myself. The next second, the color drained from my face. A sharp, white-hot agony shot through my newly set wrist. Carter was the second to run out. He didn’t even look at me. His entire focus was on comforting the crying boy. “It’s okay, buddy. Daddy’s going to take the dog to the vet right now.” He scooped up the dog with one arm and pulled Mason with the other, rushing toward the door. “Stop,” I gasped, holding my throbbing wrist. Carter turned, his face contorted in anger. “Get out of the way!” I didn’t back down. Instead, I stepped forward and pointed at the silver necklace dangling from the dog’s collar. “Give that back to me.” “Are you out of your mind?! It’s just a stupid necklace!” Carter yelled. Just a stupid necklace? I was raised by my grandma, and that necklace was the only thing she left me before she passed away. The day Grandma gave it to me, Carter was standing right there. He had sworn to her that he would love me forever and never let anyone hurt me. Yet now, the person hurting me the most was him. Carter violently ripped the necklace off the dog’s collar. The string snapped, and the silver pendant fell to the hardwood floor with a sharp metallic clink. As he turned his back to leave, I screamed after him with every ounce of strength I had left: “Carter! If you walk out of this door today, the wedding is officially off!” He didn’t even hesitate. He didn’t look back. For the next few days, Carter never came back to the apartment. And I used that time to pack up every single thing I owned and moved out of the home I had spent years decorating. The night before the wedding, Carter finally sent me a text. “I have to take Mason for his kindergarten physical tomorrow morning, so I might be a bit late. Just take the bridesmaids and go straight to the venue.” I didn’t bother replying. I blocked his number and deleted him from my contacts. The next morning, when the groomsmen arrived at my apartment to pick up the bride, no one answered the door. One of them eventually climbed through a window, only to find the entire apartment completely empty. Panic finally set in, and someone called Carter. “Carter, bro… Natalie is gone. She’s not here.”

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Twenty years ago, my baby girl, who could barely even take her first steps, died in that freezing, sterile emergency room. She could have lived. The St. Jude Foundation had already approved her Compassionate Use Grant. The lifesaving funds had been wired to the hospital’s account. But the night before her surgery, her name was secretly replaced, and the funds were withdrawn. Only later did I find out that the people who stole her spot were my own brother, Thomas, and his wife, Samantha. They traded my daughter’s life for their own son’s chance to survive. Back then, Samantha pointed her designer-clad finger at my face, waving a forged approval letter, and sneered, “This is just how life is, Lynn. Your daughter was born cheap. Don’t blame us for having better luck.” I didn’t cry. I didn’t make a scene. Instead, I spent twenty long years clawing my way up to where I am today—the Chief Director of the Compassionate Use Program at the State Medical Board. Today, Samantha’s son lies in the ICU, desperately waiting for the only dose of a rare, federally funded gene-therapy drug in the entire state. I looked down at the familiar name on the application form, picked up my red pen, and drew a massive, cold “X” right across it. 0

“Director Mitchell, are you out of your mind? You signed the wrong box!” My assistant, Dr. Julian Carter, practically jumped out of his chair. His eyes were glued to the red-stamped document in my hand. “This is the final allocation sheet for ‘NeoGenesis-1’! Tyler Mitchell’s bio-markers rank number one in the state! The system automatically flagged him as the perfect match!” Julian leaned over my desk, slamming his hands down, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “You signing ‘REJECTED’ in that box… do you have any idea what that means?” “It means this patient does not qualify for our free compassionate-use drug program,” I replied. I didn’t even look up. My voice was as flat as if I were commenting on the weather. Julian was completely dumbfounded. “How does he not qualify? Is it a genetic mismatch? Is his body too weak to tolerate it? Director Mitchell, the federal government only gives our state one single dose of this drug a year. It’s worth 1.2 million dollars, fully covered! It’s his only lifeline!” I raised my head. My gaze drifted past Julian, landing on the young man sitting in the waiting area outside my glass office. It was Tyler Mitchell. Through the glass door, the hope on his pale face instantly shattered the moment he saw me shake my head. “Director Mitchell…” Julian tried to argue again, but I tossed the file folder right back into his chest. “I said he doesn’t qualify, so he doesn’t. The applicant’s paperwork is compromised.” The office door pushed open. Tyler looked ghostly pale, his breathing shallow and ragged. He held onto the doorframe, his voice trembling violently. “Aunt Lynn… is there something wrong with my lab results?” I looked at him. He was twenty. The prime of his life. But unfortunately, he had inherited the worst genetic defect of the Mitchell family. I flipped open his background file, my fingers tapping heavily on the names listed under parents: “Father: Thomas Mitchell,” “Mother: Samantha Vance.” “Your application failed the review,” I said coldly. Tyler froze, taking two desperate steps forward. “How is that possible? My parents did everything. They notarized all our financial assets, they even put up our two estates in the Hamptons as collateral to prove that although we have money, we fully meet the criteria for emergency compassionate relief…” “Did they submit these documents themselves?” “Yes.” I let out a cold laugh and threw my pen onto the desk. “Then it’s officially over. You’re not getting it.” Julian was practically shaking with anxiety. “Director Mitchell, what the hell are you playing at? This file went through initial, secondary, and final reviews! Five department heads signed off on this! Who are you to reject it with a single word?” “Because I am the Chief Director of the Compassionate Use Program,” I said, leaning back in my leather chair, staring at him coldly. “And I hold the veto power.” Julian gasped, his face turning from anxious to furious. He looked around the room. The other assistants in the office quickly bowed their heads, pretending to be buried in their work. No one dared to make eye contact. “This is murder! Do you even know who Tyler’s father is? He’s the CEO of Vance Enterprises!” “Dr. Carter,” I cut him off, my voice sharp as a whip. “Are you a doctor of this state hospital, or are you a lapdog for Vance Enterprises?” Julian’s face instantly flushed a deep, angry purple. Tyler’s eyes were red, fighting back tears as he struggled to stand straight. “Aunt Lynn, if my parents missed some paperwork, I’ll call them right now to fix it. If my medical evaluation is being questioned, I can do another bone marrow biopsy. Please. Just give me a straight answer. I want to live.” He lowered himself completely, begging for his life. Looking at his face, my mind suddenly flashed back to twenty years ago. Back then, I was ten thousand times more pathetic than he was now. I had knelt in the pouring rain on the concrete steps of the foundation’s office, desperately grabbing the director’s leg, banging my head on the ground until I bled. *”Please, just check the accounts! The grant was approved! Why is it suddenly gone? My daughter is on a ventilator, she can’t wait!”* No one even looked at me. The security guards dragged me through the mud like a dead dog. I closed my eyes, forcing those blood-soaked memories back into the dark corners of my mind. When I opened them again, I looked at Tyler. “I’ve made myself clear. You do not qualify. Get out.” 0

Tyler’s tears finally spilled over. He bit his lip hard, turned around, and stumbled out of the room. A nurse gasped in the hallway outside. He must have tripped and fallen. Julian pointed a trembling finger at my face. “Fine. Great. Lynn Mitchell, everything you did today is going straight to Dean Henderson. Don’t think you can play god just because you sit in this chair!” I pulled out a sanitizing wipe and slowly, methodically cleaned my fingers. “The door is on your left. Don’t let it hit you on the way out.” Julian slammed the door shut. Less than five minutes later, I could hear him shouting into his phone from the stairwell down the hall. He was so loud the entire floor could hear. “Mrs. Vance, it’s Julian. I’m so sorry, there’s a massive issue with the drug allocation… Director Mitchell refuses to sign off. You and Mr. Mitchell need to get down here right now. I can’t keep this under wraps anymore.” I tossed the used wipe into the trash, spun my chair around, and looked out the window. Twenty years. I had waited for this phone call until my very bones felt restless. The next morning, the moment I walked into my office, Julian snuck in with a smug, mocking grin on his face. “Director Mitchell, Mrs. Vance asked me to deliver a message.” “Speak.” Julian choked on his words for a second, forcing his anger down. “Mrs. Vance said, mother to mother, she hopes you can understand. If Tyler’s drug gets approved, she will personally fund and donate the most advanced PET-CT scanner to our radiology department.” I flipped open the medical chart on my desk. “A PET-CT scanner? That’s over three million dollars.” “Exactly!” Julian’s eyes lit up. “Mrs. Vance promised it personally. No take-backs.” “Must be nice to be that rich,” I sneered. Thinking I was tempted, Julian leaned in closer. “Director, let’s be real. Tyler’s medical profile is flawless. You sign the paper, everyone wins. It’s good for the hospital, and it’s even better for your next performance review. Dean Henderson’s new research lab is still waiting on Vance Enterprises’ phase-two funding, you know.” I stopped writing and stared directly into his eyes. “Dr. Carter, how many years have you been in this field?” “Six… six years.” “Six years. And have you ever seen me, Lynn Mitchell, sign off on a single document in exchange for money?” The smile on Julian’s face froze. “I don’t care how much Samantha Vance is paying you under the table. But in this office, her money is nothing but garbage.” Julian shook with rage, his mouth opening and closing but no words came out. Finally, he sneered, spun on his heel, and slammed the door. The office fell silent. I unlocked the bottom drawer of my desk, entered my passcode, and pulled out a plain black folder. Inside, there were no medical charts or hospital documents. There were only yellowed, decades-old bank receipts, blurry photos, and a few USB drives containing recorded calls. This was the evidence I had spent more than seven thousand days digging out from the depths of hell. I thought I would have to wait longer for the Mitchell family to make a mistake. But God had eyes. Tyler’s illness relapsed, and this specific drug was his only hope. At two in the afternoon, my office landline rang. “Hello, is this Director Mitchell of the Compassionate Use Program?” The voice on the other end was dripping with the same high-and-mighty arrogance I remembered. Twenty years, and Samantha’s tone of talking down to people hadn’t changed at all. Back then, my ex-husband had begged her, kneeling in front of her BMW. She had rolled down the window, thrown a few hundred-dollar bills in his face, and said: *”The kid is dead anyway. Just make another one. If you dare come to my office and make a scene again, I’ll make sure you lose your job sweeping the streets!”* “Speaking,” I said, gripping the receiver. “This is Samantha Vance, Tyler’s mother. I want to discuss my son’s drug approval with you in person. Tomorrow morning, 9:00 AM. Be in your office.” It wasn’t a request. It was an order. “Of course,” I smiled. “I’ll be waiting.” “My husband will be joining me. We expect a reasonable explanation from you, Director Mitchell.” “I promise you’ll get exactly what you deserve.” I hung up, walked over to the restroom, and looked in the mirror. The woman staring back had short, sharp hair and cold, icy eyes. At forty-five, I was no longer that pathetic girl in a faded T-shirt with a ponytail, weeping and begging for mercy. More than that, back then, to them, I was just a poor relative from the countryside whose name wasn’t even worth remembering. How could they possibly recognize me now? 0

The next morning at exactly 9:00 AM, my office door was kicked open. Samantha strutted in on four-inch heels, clutching a limited-edition Hermès Birkin bag, looking like she owned the place. My brother, Thomas, followed closely behind in a tailored suit, looking every bit the successful billionaire. “So, you’re Director Mitchell?” Samantha looked me up and down, pulled out a chair, and sat down without a single polite word. “I don’t beat around the bush. You made things difficult for my son yesterday, and he didn’t sleep a wink last night. How are you going to make this right?” I took a sip of water from my mug. “How would you like to settle it, Mrs. Vance?” Samantha slammed a thick stack of medical reports onto my desk. “This is a joint evaluation from the top medical specialists in the state! Tyler is a one hundred percent match! What right do you have to block us at the final stage? Who do you think you are?” Thomas gently pulled her sleeve, trying to play the reasonable gentleman. “Director Mitchell, my wife is just worried sick about our boy. She’s a bit emotional. We came here today to find a solution.” He pulled out another chair and sat down, folding his hands on my desk. “My son’s condition is critical. If there’s some misunderstanding, let’s lay it all out on the table.” I pushed the stack of reports aside. “Mr. Mitchell, Mrs. Vance. I made my decision clear in the file. Tyler does not qualify.” “Bullshit!” Samantha slammed her hand on the desk. “You just want money, don’t you? Name your price! Stop acting so damn righteous!” Thomas quickly tried to smooth things over. “Director Mitchell, I understand your position carries a lot of pressure and many things to consider. But rules are made by people. If your department needs funding for research, or if you personally… have some expenses that are hard to talk about, Vance Enterprises can take care of it.” “Like what?” I asked with a half-smile. “For instance, a luxury apartment in Manhattan, or perhaps your children want to go to an Ivy League school…” Thomas lowered his voice, offering the bait. “Are you openly bribing a state official, Mr. Mitchell?” Thomas’s face stiffened, and he let out a dry laugh. “You misunderstand, Director. It’s a perfectly legal philanthropic donation…” “Stop wasting your breath on her!” Samantha snapped impatiently, glaring at me. “Just tell me, how much money will it take for you to sign? Five million? Ten million?” The office fell into a dead, heavy silence. I set my mug down, stood up, and looked down at the wealthy couple. “Mrs. Vance, this is the State Medical Board, not a flea market for Vance Enterprises. Take your dirty money and get out.” Samantha gasped in disbelief, then laughed mockingly as she stood up, pointing her finger at my nose. “You ungrateful bitch! Who do you think you are? A low-level director, and you actually think you’re hot shit?” “I’m warning you for the last time. You are signing that paper today, whether you like it or not! If you don’t, I will make sure you never practice medicine in this country again!” The utter disregard for human life in her eyes was identical to twenty years ago. “Samantha Vance,” I said, calling her by her full name. She froze. “Tyler Mitchell’s application is permanently denied. If you don’t like it, go file a complaint with the Department of Health.” Samantha’s face turned white with rage, her chest heaving. “Fine! Just you wait!” She spun around to leave, but stopped at the door, turning back to hiss, “Let’s see how many more days you get to wear that white coat!” Thomas gave me a long, dark look filled with malice. “Director Mitchell, you’ve chosen a very dangerous path.” The moment they left, Julian slipped back into the room, sweating profusely. “Director! Are you crazy? You just completely crossed Samantha Vance! Her family holds massive political sway in this state. You’re committing career suicide!” “Dr. Carter,” I sat back down, opening my computer. “Take a guess. What do you think her next move will be?” Julian swallowed hard. “What else? Use her connections to pressure you, and get the media to destroy you!” I nodded. “Excellent. Let’s make sure she plays it as big as possible.” 0

At three in the afternoon, I was summoned to Dean Henderson’s office. When I opened the door, Samantha was sitting on the leather sofa, sipping tea, while Thomas stood by the window, smoking a cigar. Dean Henderson sat behind his mahogany desk, his forehead creased into deep lines. “Lynn, come in, take a seat,” the Dean said, pointing to the chair opposite him. “Speak freely, Dean. I’ll stand,” I replied. The Dean cleared his throat. “Well, Mrs. Vance just brought a serious issue to my attention. She claims you have a personal bias in the drug allocation process, and that you are intentionally blocking her son’s lifesaving medication. This is reflecting very poorly on our institution.” “I am following the regulations. What bias?” Samantha slammed her teacup onto the glass table. “Regulations? Every specialist in this state says my son is the perfect fit, and you’re the only one saying no! If that’s not bias, what is? Did you take a bribe from someone else to sell our drug under the table?” Dean Henderson waved his hands frantically. “Mrs. Vance, please, let’s not throw accusations. Lynn isn’t that kind of person. But Lynn, Tyler’s condition is indeed critical. You must give us a reasonable explanation.” “My explanation is in the file. Non-compliant paperwork.” Samantha bolted upright and marched right up to my face. “Do you think your position here is secure?” She leaned in, whispering so only the three of us could hear: “Let me tell you something. Crushing you is easier than stepping on an ant. Bow your head, apologize, sign the paper, and I’ll pretend today never happened. Otherwise…” “Otherwise what?” I met her icy glare. Samantha suddenly laughed, a vicious, triumphant sound. “Otherwise, by tomorrow, everyone in this state will know that the Director of the Compassionate Use Program at this hospital is a corrupt, heartless murderer. I wonder if the families of the patients who didn’t get the drug will come and tear you apart?” Dean Henderson panicked. “Mrs. Vance, please, let’s not be rash…” “There’s nothing to talk about!” Samantha turned to the Dean. “Dean Henderson, I’m putting it on the line today. If my son doesn’t get that drug, the fifty-million-dollar endowment Vance Enterprises promised for your new medical wing is officially canceled!” Dean Henderson’s face drained of all color. “Lynn!” The Dean slammed his hand on the desk. “What the hell are you holding out for? Sign the damn paper!” I looked at the panicked Dean, and then at the smug, victorious Samantha. “No.” Samantha let out a cold laugh, pulled out her phone, and put it on speaker. “Hey, is this the lead editor at *The Daily Chronicle*? I have a massive story for you. The Director of the Compassionate Use Program at the state hospital is abusing her power and letting a young boy die out of spite. Yes, I have all the proof ready. I’ll send it over now.” She hung up and looked at me with pure malice. “Get ready to be ruined, Mitchell.” Thomas walked over, patting Samantha on the shoulder, looking at me with cold pity. “Director Mitchell, you should have left yourself a way out. Since you insisted on putting yourself in a corner, don’t blame us.” The two of them walked out, heads held high. Dean Henderson collapsed back into his chair, his hand trembling as he pointed at me. “Lynn! You’re usually so smart! Why the hell are you acting like an idiot now? Do you know how important that fifty million is to this hospital? How am I supposed to defend you when the news breaks tomorrow?” I turned toward the door. “You don’t have to defend me, Dean.” “What do you mean?” I looked back over my shoulder and smiled. “Because I’m the one who lit the match.”

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Scrolling through Instagram before bed, I saw a viral post on my feed: “How did you get revenge on that toxic female boss at your office?” The top anonymous answer was incredibly arrogant: [I stole her fiancé! Who told her to be such a bitter, micromanaging bitch at work every day?] [I just pretended to pass out from low blood sugar right in front of his car when he came to pick her up from work. He completely fell for me right then and there.] [Later, I resigned, telling everyone I was moving back to my hometown in the Midwest to get married. In reality, I’m currently living in the luxury penthouse he bought me in New York, trying for a baby.] [She’s still sending out digital invitations in our group chat for their wedding next month. Lmao, she has no idea that I have his primary bank card.] [Love doesn’t care who got there first. The one who isn’t loved is the real interloper.] At the bottom of the post was a photo of a man’s back as he cooked in a kitchen. But the tiny, mended sunflower embroidery on the hem of his jacket caught my eye instantly. That was Carter, my fiancé of seven years. The man I was supposed to sign our marriage papers with next month.

I stared blankly at the slightly crooked sunflower embroidery on the screen. In that single second, it felt like all the blood in my body was rushing backward. My fingertips went completely numb. I embroidered that sunflower myself. It was an anniversary gift I bought him last year. Somehow, he got a small tear in it. I told him I’d just buy him a new one, but he insisted this one was too sentimental. He begged me to mend it for him. Back then, looking at the flower I sewed on, his eyes were full of happiness. He hugged me tightly and said, “Now the whole world knows I have the most caring wife.” But now, wearing that very jacket—the one he claimed meant the world to him—he was standing in another woman’s kitchen. Cooking for her. I forced myself to look away from that burning sunflower and re-read the anonymous post. [Pretended to pass out in front of his car.] [Resigned to go back to her hometown to get married.] [Still sending out digital invitations in the group chat.] These shattered pieces of information quickly formed a face in my mind—Amber. I clicked on the anonymous poster’s profile. Although her main page was set to private, I could still see her recently liked posts. They were all baby strollers, maternity clothes, and reviews of a luxury high-rise building in downtown Manhattan. Amber. Carter. Wow. You two are truly something else. The next morning, sitting in my private office, I pulled up Amber’s HR file from before she resigned. Looking at the girl smiling so innocently in her ID photo, the corner of my mouth twitched. When Amber interviewed, she seemed extremely sharp. The CEO was thrilled and specifically asked me, the top sales director, to mentor her personally. But after she joined, while she was great at sweet-talking clients, her actual deliverables were an absolute joke. She used AI to generate her proposals, forcing the entire team to pull all-nighters to fix her mess. Once, she almost cost the company a million-dollar deal because she didn’t bother to double-check the contract clauses. Yet, because she was incredibly skilled at playing the victim and kissing up to the executives, she never got punished. Instead, my entire sales team had to take the fall for her mistakes. I used to think she had potential, just lacked discipline. So, I was very strict with her. I wanted to curb her vanity and greed, hoping she would ground herself and eventually build a real career in this cutthroat industry. I even shared my years of compiled client resources, pitch decks, and industry secrets with her without holding anything back. I wanted her to take fewer detours and stand on her own two feet. As it turned out, she hadn’t changed at all. She just channeled all her resentment into a twisted plot against me. When a person’s mind is rotten, you can’t straighten it. Everything I invested in her was a complete waste of time. To her, Carter wasn’t just a tool to get back at me; he was her shortcut to an easy life. I closed my eyes, and a rainy day from six months ago flashed in my mind. That day, Carter drove to the office to pick me up. Amber happened to be walking down the stairs right behind me. Just as Carter’s car pulled up to the curb, Amber’s body suddenly went limp, and she collapsed right in front of his hood. Carter was terrified. He jumped out of the car immediately to check on her. Amber leaned weakly against Carter’s arm, her pale little face looking up. “I’m so sorry, Stella… I stayed up all night to finish that report you wanted. I skipped lunch and my blood sugar crashed…” My mind was completely on work back then. Seeing her looking so pitiful, I told Carter to drive her to the ER while I took an Uber home. Now that I think about it, that wasn’t low blood sugar. That was a meticulously calculated trap! And from that day on, Carter began asking about Amber constantly, saying things like, “It’s not easy for a young girl to make it in the city alone.” I thought he was just being compassionate. As it turns out, a man’s compassion is just a free pass for him to cheat.

I let out a cold laugh, opened my laptop, and logged into my joint account with Carter. This was the account we set up to save for our future house. I put in $2,000 every month, and Carter was supposed to put in $1,500. The balance was completely intact. But in her post, Amber clearly wrote: [I have his primary bank card.] Then it hit me. Besides his base salary, Carter received a massive quarterly bonus and commission check. Six months ago, he came home looking miserable, telling me his company was struggling and all bonuses were delayed or canceled. To ease his financial stress, I paid for almost all our dates, the new furniture, and the wedding venue deposits over the past six months. I picked up my phone and texted a contact who worked in finance at Carter’s company. Ten minutes later, she replied: [Stella, Carter’s department has been absolutely crushing it these past two quarters. Not only were their bonuses not cut, but his payout doubled last month. It was deposited directly into his personal account ending in 8892.] Reading the text, I laughed out of pure anger. Using my money to pay for our wedding, while using his own bonuses to buy a luxury penthouse for his pregnant mistress? Carter, you really are a piece of work. In the afternoon, I requested a half-day off from the boss. Based on the luxury building reviews Amber liked and the corner of the river view she occasionally showed off on her private Instagram, it took me less than two hours to pinpoint her exact location—Waterfront Place, one of the most expensive luxury complexes in the city. I parked my car in a shaded spot across the street, put on my sunglasses, and quietly watched the building’s driveway. I didn’t call Carter to confront him, nor did I start a screaming match on Snapchat. Before securing the evidence that could destroy them completely, throwing a tantrum is just a rookie mistake that tips them off. At 4:30 PM. A familiar black Audi slowly rolled out of the parking garage. It was Carter’s car. I knew the license plate by heart. I immediately started my engine and trailed him from a safe distance. The Audi made a few turns and finally pulled into the underground garage of a high-end private maternity hospital downtown. I sat in my car, watching Carter step out of the driver’s seat. He was wearing a high-quality designer blazer today, his hair styled to perfection. He walked briskly to the passenger side, gently pulled the door open, and even placed his hand over the roof to shield her head. Then, a foot in a flat designer shoe stepped out. Amber. She was wearing a loose maternity dress under a knit cardigan. Her once-slender waist now had a very prominent bump. Looking at the size, she was at least four months pregnant. Carter immediately wrapped his arm around her waist. Amber leaned naturally into his chest, looking up at him with a sweet, sugary smile. Carter bent down and planted an incredibly tender kiss on her forehead. Watching this scene, I felt my heart tighten as if gripped by an invisible fist. Every breath I took tasted like iron. Four months. Four months ago, Carter was down on one knee proposing to me, exchanging engagement rings in front of all our family and friends. During the day, he knelt before me and promised, “Stella, I will protect you with my life.” At night, he climbed into Amber’s bed, planting the seeds of their so-called “true love.” I raised my phone, adjusted the zoom, and perfectly recorded the footage of them hugging, kissing, and her very visible baby bump. Memories of our past conversations flooded my mind. I was highly career-oriented and in a crucial period for a promotion. I had clearly stated that I wouldn’t consider having kids for at least five years. Carter had held my hand back then, his eyes full of understanding: “Stella, I love you for who you are, not to turn you into a baby machine. Go chase your career. I’ll be your strongest supporter.” It wasn’t understanding. It was just that the traditional, submissive wife-and-child fantasy he actually wanted was already being fulfilled by Amber. He wanted me, the glamorous, high-earning sales director fiancée, to boost his social status and split his financial burdens. At the same time, he wanted Amber—a girl who worshipped him, depended on him, and was willing to get pregnant—to feed his fragile male ego. I watched them walk cold-faced into the elevator lobby. I pushed my car door open and followed them.

The VIP waiting area of the private hospital was quiet and luxurious. Wearing a face mask and a designer bucket hat, I sat on a sofa a few yards behind them, using a luxury parenting magazine as cover. “Carter, the baby kicked me again today.” Amber leaned against Carter’s shoulder, pulling his hand onto her belly. Her voice was pure honey. “Do you think it’s a boy or a girl?” Carter’s eyes were filled with the soft glow of a doting father. “I’ll love whatever it is. As long as you’re the one giving birth, it’s my treasure.” “But… what about Stella?” Amber suddenly sighed, her tone dripping with mock guilt and sadness. “Your wedding is next month. The invitations are already out in the office group chat. It hurts so much to see it. Carter, maybe I should just leave. I don’t want to be the home-wrecking mistress…” As she spoke, her eyes welled up with tears on cue. “Don’t talk like that!” Carter immediately pulled her into a tight, protective hug. He lowered his voice, but a hint of irritation slipped through: “Stella and I have been together for seven years. The spark died a long time ago. All she cares about are KPIs and promotions. She’s as aggressive as a man. Being with her suffocates me every single day.” “Amber, only when I’m with you do I feel like a real man who is needed.” Carter stroked Amber’s hair, making a grand promise: “Don’t worry. You’re carrying my family’s first grandchild. My mother has been complaining about Stella refusing to have kids for years anyway. I’ll find a time to break up with her in the next few days. The wedding is off. That penthouse is my gift to you, and all my paychecks will go to you from now on.” “Really? Carter, you’re the best!” Amber smiled through her tears and planted a loud kiss on Carter’s cheek. Sitting behind them, listening to this jaw-dropping confession of “true love,” I almost laughed out loud. Years ago, when his startup failed and he was $500,000 in debt, I was the one who ate expired bread with him for a year. I was the one who drank with clients day and night until I got a stomach ulcer just to help him clear his debt. Why didn’t he complain that I was “too aggressive” back then? Now that he’s successful, he looks down on me for being “too masculine”? I set the magazine down, stood up, and walked toward them. The sharp click of my designer heels echoed loudly in the quiet waiting area. Carter was busy peeling an orange for Amber. Hearing the footsteps, he subconsciously looked up. The moment he realized who was standing in front of him, the orange in his hand slipped, hitting the floor and rolling far away. “St… Stella?”

Amber followed his gaze. The second her eyes met mine, she flinched in terror, wrapping both hands tightly around her stomach as if she had just seen a ghost. I looked down at the pathetic couple. I didn’t scream like a hysterical housewife, nor did I throw a tantrum. I simply pulled off my face mask slowly, letting a cold, mocking smile spread across my face. “What a coincidence, Carter.” My eyes swept over Amber’s swollen stomach, my voice deadly calm. “Taking my former intern for her prenatal checkup? Tell me, should we reserve the VIP table for her baby at our wedding next month?” The waiting area fell into a tomb-like silence. Carter bolted upright so fast he knocked his chair backward. He instinctively reached out to grab my hand, but froze mid-air when he saw the icy glare in my eyes. “Stella… let me explain. It’s not what you think…” Carter’s voice was dry, as if he had swallowed a handful of sand. His handsome, usually confident face was now pale with sheer panic. “Not what I think? Then what is it?” I chuckled softly, my gaze slowly drifting over his old jacket with the sunflower embroidery. “Is it her passing out in front of your car and magically landing in your bed? Or is it you wearing the jacket I mended while cooking her organic meals in your luxury penthouse?” Hearing this, Carter’s face turned completely white. He stared at me in disbelief. He clearly didn’t expect me to know about the penthouse. Seeing this, Amber’s eyes watered instantly. She stood up, holding her lower back. She looked at me with a fragile, weeping expression. “Stella, please don’t blame Carter. It’s all my fault. I couldn’t help falling in love with him. I know I don’t deserve him. I’ll leave right now. I promise I won’t get in the way of your wedding…” As she spoke, she took a delicate step forward, feigning dizziness, and fell perfectly into Carter’s arms. “Amber! Watch the baby!” Carter caught her instinctively, then looked up at me with a flash of anger. “Stella! If you have a problem, take it out on me! Amber is pregnant, stop attacking her with your passive-aggressive remarks!” Looking at the tragic star-crossed lovers before me, I felt nothing but pure disgust. “Take it out on you? You think you’re worth my time?” I took a step back, as if avoiding some filthy disease, and looked coldly at Amber. “Your anonymous Reddit post was beautifully written. ‘The one who isn’t loved is the real interloper,’ right?” Amber’s face instantly froze. She forgot to fake-cry, her eyes widening in pure horror. “Since you’re so brave in chasing your true love, I’ll happily make it happen for you.” I pulled a piece of paper from my Chanel bag—a printout of our joint bank account statements I had printed in the car—and slapped it directly across Carter’s face. The sharp edge of the paper grazed his cheek before fluttering to the floor. “Carter, consider these seven years a very expensive lesson for me. It’s like I threw my money to a stray dog.” I stared at him, pronouncing every word with deadly precision. “The wedding is off. My lawyer will contact you tomorrow morning at nine. Every single dollar that belongs to me, you will return. And the debt you owe me, you will pay back with interest. I will strip you clean.” Without waiting for Carter’s desperate cries behind me, or looking at Amber’s horrified, pale face, I turned around. With my spine perfectly straight, I walked out of the hospital on my high heels, never looking back.

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My former best friend, Scarlett Vance, whom I hadn’t spoken to in ten years, suddenly sent me a friend request on Snapchat. [I was wrong back then. I shouldn’t have stolen Logan from you, and I shouldn’t have hidden your Harvard acceptance letter.] [I was out of my mind. I was just so jealous of you. You had everything, and even the guy I secretly liked was in love with you.] [I don’t know how you’re doing now, but I owe you an apology. I’m sorry.] At the same exact time, a FaceTime call request from my husband, Ethan Carter, popped up. “Scarlett has leukemia, Nora. She needs a bone marrow transplant, and you’re a match. For the sake of our five years of marriage, please help her.” Ethan pleaded with me when he got home. “I ran the tests. Only your marrow matches hers.” “Scarlett is an orphan, Nora. She doesn’t have a family like you do. You’re not just going to watch her die, are you?” I suppressed the storm of emotions swirling inside me and stared at him. “Why you? Why are you doing this too…” He gave a faint, gentle smile and casually stroked my hair. “Because Scarlett is the one I love.” “My sweet, naive girl. I’ve been cheating on you with her for three years. Did you really not notice?”

I didn’t even have time to process his words. Ethan looked at me with that familiar, doting gaze and tapped my phone screen, accepting Scarlett’s friend request on my behalf. I stared at him in disbelief. I couldn’t believe this was the man I had been married to for five years. “Do you even know what Scarlett did to me in the past?” I demanded, my voice trembling. He looked down at his phone. On his screen, a chat bubble from Scarlett lit up. A subconscious smile played on his lips. “Of course I know.” “But don’t worry, you’re still my wife.” “You’re not losing anything, Nora. Except for my love, you still have everything else.” The glass in my hand shattered on the floor. Ethan walked over, scooped me up effortlessly, and placed me on the sofa. My vision blurred as tears fell uncontrollably. “So both of you… both of my husbands… are doing this to me for her?” He knelt beside the sofa, looking up at me. He gently wiped the tears from my cheeks with his thumb. “Don’t cry. Don’t make a big deal out of a little bone marrow. You’ll recover after a few months of rest.” I slapped his hand away. He paused, then stood up, his face darkening with annoyance. “I’ll just be direct with you. Scarlett is pregnant with my baby.” “You know how desperately I’ve wanted a child.” “Scarlett’s condition is critical right now. I need you to save her.” Pregnant? My hand instinctively went to my lower stomach. Just this morning, I had sat in the bathroom for an hour, staring at the two pink lines on the pregnancy test. I had imagined a million ways to tell him. Would he be happy? Would he pick me up and spin me around? I had even booked a reservation at his favorite steakhouse for tonight. But in the end… Scarlett was pregnant with his child. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. Scarlett sent another message: [I’m sorry, Nora. I know nothing I say can make up for it.] [But I really can’t wait anymore. Please, save my baby.] The glare of the phone screen pierced my eyes. Her message sat there silently. Ten years. I thought this name had completely vanished from my life. I shouldn’t have stolen Logan from you, and I shouldn’t have hidden your Harvard acceptance letter. I stared at those words, my fingertips shaking. That summer, with my perfect SAT score, I had only applied to Harvard. But as the summer ended, my acceptance letter never arrived. By then, only a local state college would take me. I cried for weeks, thinking I just wasn’t good enough, and ended up going to that mediocre college. My boyfriend at the time, Logan Bennett, went to the same college to comfort me. We eventually got married. But seven years later, Scarlett got pregnant with his child. I had a breakdown, got a divorce, and cut Scarlett out of my life completely. And now, history was repeating itself. Ethan continued, his voice cold. “She’s never been loved since she was a kid. I’m just doing the right thing. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.” “Nora, you’ll help her, right?” For a second, I wanted to tell him that I was pregnant too. I wanted to see his reaction. But his phone screen was still lit up, displaying a lock screen photo of him and Scarlett laughing together. I finally nodded. “Okay.” He was stunned for a moment, then smiled and patted my head. “I knew you’d agree. You’ve always been so sensible.”

Yes, I had always been sensible. So sensible that I had let Scarlett take Logan, and now, I was letting her take Ethan too. I thought I would never cross paths with them again. But fate loved to play sick jokes. When I went to the clinic to get an abortion. I ran into Logan and Ethan, both of them accompanying Scarlett for her prenatal checkup. My brain went completely numb. I instinctively took a step back. The three of them looked up at the same time and saw me. Instinctively, both men stepped in front of Scarlett, shielding her behind their backs. Seeing this, a bitter pang of grief shot through my chest. Ultimately, it was Scarlett who broke the silence. “Nora? Long time no see.” She stood up, and Logan immediately reached out to support her waist. “What are you doing here? Are you feeling sick?” she asked. I didn’t say a word. She smiled, her eyes drifting from my face down to the medical consent form crumpled in my hand. “Nora, I’ve wanted to apologize to you in person for all these years.” Her eyes welled with tears, her voice trembling. “What happened back then was all my fault. I was too young, too jealous of you. You had a good family, perfect grades—you were always the chosen one.” She paused, looking down, her eyelashes fluttering. “Do you know how it feels to watch someone else’s happiness from the gutters? I envied you so much. So when you actively tried to be my friend, I didn’t know what to feel.” She looked up, her eyes red. “I felt resentful. Why did you have everything and still get to play the savior to me? So, I wanted to take everything from you.” Ethan frowned, throwing a brief glance at the surgical form in my hand. He took off his coat and draped it over Scarlett’s shoulders. “Don’t talk about the past. Your health comes first.” She gently pushed Ethan away and stepped closer, whispering in my ear. “But things are different now.” “Nora Miller, no matter how perfect you are, you always end up abandoned.” “I’m so sorry, but I’ve stolen your husband again.” Then she stepped back, her voice laced with tears. “Nora, I’m so sorry. Please don’t blame Ethan. It’s all my fault.” I couldn’t stand her pathetic act anymore. Before I realized what I was doing, my hand pushed her shoulder. Scarlett’s body toppled backward. She clutched her stomach. “It hurts!” Logan and Ethan immediately shoved me to the floor, rushing toward Scarlett without a backward glance. I hit the hard floor, a sharp pain shooting through my wrist. “Scarlett!” “Call a doctor! Logan, go get a doctor!” Nurses rushed over with a gurney. They lifted Scarlett onto it. Ethan held her hand tightly, running alongside the gurney. Then, his leather shoes stopped right in front of me. “I warned you.” “Her body can’t handle any accidents.” He knelt down and grabbed my wrist. His grip was so tight my bones ached. “If anything happens to my baby, you’ll pay for it.” I looked up into his eyes. They were filled with absolute hatred. I couldn’t see a single trace of the man who used to love me.

Scarlett miscarried. Ethan stood against the hospital wall, his hands buried in his hair. Logan sat on the other side, his eyes bloodshot. Both of their hearts belonged to Scarlett. But I didn’t need their love anymore. My wrist was still throbbing, and my palm was scraped raw from the fall. Neither of them asked if I was okay. They just stared at me. “Are you happy now?” Ethan hissed. “She was the one who—” Before I could finish, a sharp slap stung my face. My ears rang. My head whipped to the side, the taste of blood filling my mouth. I stared at him in utter disbelief. Ethan’s hand froze in mid-air. It took him a long moment to realize what he had done. He suddenly lunged forward and hugged me tight. “Nora, I’m sorry.” Just then, Scarlett’s door opened, and she stood there watching us. Ethan pulled away, adjusting his collar as if nothing had happened. “Nora, go home and wait for me.” “I’ll explain everything once I handle things here.” He turned and walked away. Logan glared at me before following him into the room. Why did they treat me like this? Ethan, you used to love me the most. On the day I divorced Logan, a crowd of people had gathered to watch the drama. Scarlett had clung to Logan’s arm, her belly slightly showing. “Look at yourself, Nora. Do you really think you’re worthy of me?” Logan had sneered. People were filming us on their phones. I stood there, wanting to scream that they were wrong. They were the ones who cheated. But my throat locked up, and my whole body shook. Then, a hand grabbed my wrist and pulled me out of the crowd. Ethan stood in front of me, shielding me from Logan and Scarlett. He wiped my tears, his brow furrowed with pure anger toward them. “They aren’t worth your tears.” “Never cry for them again.” He hated Logan, he hated Scarlett, and he hated anyone who made me cry. He took off his suit jacket and draped it over my shoulders. It was big enough to wrap around my entire body. “Come on. I’m taking you home.” I had just miscarried back then too. It was Logan’s baby. On the day I found out he was cheating, I fell down the stairs. The baby was gone. While Logan and Scarlett were making out in front of the hospital, I was signing the surgery consent form alone in my hospital bed. No one came to pick me up when I was discharged. I sat on the hospital steps alone, scrolling through my contacts, not knowing who to call. Finally, I dialed Ethan. He was my senior in college, but we rarely spoke after graduation. The phone rang for a long time before he picked up. “Ethan.” “Can you… can you come pick me up?” He didn’t hesitate. “Where are you?” Twenty minutes later, his car pulled up. When I got in, he looked at me and said, “From now on, if anything happens, call me first.” After that, he pursued me for a year. He drove me to work every day. He took me to different restaurants every weekend. When I worked late, he would park his car downstairs and wait. “As soon as you walk out, you’ll see my headlights,” he said. “You’ll never feel alone.” “I will be your most loyal partner. I will never let you suffer.” During that time, he was there every single second. He would call me to soothe my insomnia. When Logan and Scarlett posted photos of their happily-ever-after on Instagram, Ethan took my phone and blocked them both. “Don’t look at garbage. It hurts your eyes.” So when he knelt on one knee and slid the ring onto my finger, I didn’t hesitate. I thought, maybe God didn’t entirely abandon me. Only now did I realize that our five-year marriage was a complete joke.

On the day Scarlett was discharged, Ethan came home. He sat across from me, silent for a long time before finally speaking. “Why did you push her?” “Did you do it on purpose?” He stood up, walked over, and looked down at me. “Nora, you owe me a child. You have to pay me back.” I looked at him, a dull ache spreading through my chest. “Is this the explanation you promised me?” “Fine. How do you want me to pay you back?” He reached out, gently stroking my hair. “You still have your bone marrow.” “Save Scarlett first. Once you recover…” “You can have my baby.” Whenever I was sad, he would stroke my hair like this. Now, as he did the exact same gesture, a wave of intense nausea washed over me. “Ethan, Scarlett ruined my life!” He cut me off. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I love her.” He paused, a faint smile actually appearing on his lips. “Do you think it was a coincidence that I showed up to rescue you five years ago?” I froze. “It wasn’t a coincidence.” “I’ve always loved Scarlett. Since college.” “But she only had eyes for Logan.” He knelt down, leveling his gaze with mine. “Do you know how long I waited?” “I waited until she was with Logan. I waited until they wrecked your marriage. I waited until she finally came to me.” “Every single day of our five years together, I was thinking of her.” He paused, as if reminiscing about something beautiful. “You thought I was saving you.” “I was just biding my time.” I bit my lip so hard it bled, but my tears kept falling. He stood up. “I’ve already arranged the bone marrow transplant with the hospital.” He walked to the door to change his shoes. “By the way.” “Don’t think about running. And don’t think about suing me.” “You know what I’m capable of.” Sitting in the darkness, I finally dialed a number. “Robert.” “Draft a divorce agreement for me.” The next day, Ethan took me to the hospital. He made me check in early for pre-op testing. He packed my hospital bag with practiced ease. But he said he wouldn’t stay with me because he had to look after Scarlett. “She’s terrified of pain. She needs someone by her side before her procedure.” My phone buzzed. A message from Scarlett. [Nora, thank you for donating your marrow to me.] [I’ll take good care of Ethan for you.] [Consider it my way of paying you back.] [To be honest, I don’t really envy you anymore. After all, everything you ever owned now belongs to me.] [Oh, I saw your surgical slip the other day. You’re pregnant, aren’t you? What a pity. You won’t be able to keep this baby.] I deleted the message. The next day, right after the bone marrow donation, I went straight to the operating room for my abortion. By the time the nurses found me, I was hemorrhaging. Emergency resuscitation. Blood transfusions. The rapid, frantic beeping of the heart monitor filled the room. Ethan was waiting outside Scarlett’s transplant room when his phone rang. It was a nurse. She told him his wife was in critical condition from a massive hemorrhage. But he just hung up, assuming it was nothing serious. When Scarlett was wheeled out of the operating room, Ethan held her hand. She was pale, her lips dry. He leaned down to kiss the back of her hand. “It’s over.” “We can finally be together.” Scarlett offered a weak smile. “Where’s Nora?” Ethan glanced at his phone. Suddenly, he stood up. “I need to make a call.” He walked to the end of the hallway and dialed the hospital’s internal line. “My wife…” “Mr. Carter,” the nurse’s voice was frantic. “Your wife is in the ICU. She’s not out of danger yet.” “She went straight to get an abortion right after donating her marrow! She is in extreme danger right now!”

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Seven years of love, and I personally pushed Julian Vance to the absolute peak of Hollywood. On the day he bid fifty million dollars for a legendary, flawless pink diamond at a charity auction, the entire internet was waiting for him to propose to me. Even I thought this would be the perfect fairytale ending to our seven-year romance. But under the blinding spotlights, he walked right past me. He placed the pink diamond necklace around the neck of Chloe White—a helpless, naive rookie who had just debuted. “This necklace is too heavy for you to wear, Selena. You don’t need it. Chloe needs it more.” I wanted to fight back, but I soon realized he had already secretly transferred my movie contracts, my connections, and even my life’s work to her. It wasn’t until a raging fire broke out on the set of a survival reality show that the truth fully hit me. I was left struggling in the smoke, screaming for help, while Julian carried Chloe—who had nothing but a tiny scratch on her knee—out of the flames without once looking back. At that moment, my heart died. He forgot one thing. Everything he owned was given to him by me. I could build him up to the highest peak, and I could drag him down to the deepest hell.

The Metropolitan Charity Gala was a glittering sea of luxury. The massive crystal chandeliers cast a mesmerizing glow over the room. The wealthiest elites, tech billionaires, and A-list celebrities of New York were all gathered here. I was wearing an haute couture, star-embellished gown, sitting in the center of the very front row. Sitting right next to me was Julian Vance—the newly crowned Oscar-winning actor, the man of the hour, and my boyfriend of seven years. “Next up is our final masterpiece of the night—the legendary Pink Hope Diamond! We will start the bidding at ten million dollars!” The auctioneer’s voice echoed through the grand hall. A month ago, rumors had already flooded Snapchat and Instagram. Everyone said Julian was going to buy this diamond to propose to me on this live-streamed night. “Twenty million!” “Thirty million!” “Forty million!” The bids kept rising, pushing the atmosphere to a fever pitch. Julian hadn’t raised his paddle yet. He just leaned back in his seat, looking effortless and handsome, gently stroking my knuckles with his thumb. His hand was warm. It was a touch that always made me feel safe. When the price stopped at forty-five million, the room fell quiet. Finally, Julian slowly raised his paddle. His voice was deep and commanding: “Fifty million.” The crowd gasped. Countless cameras instantly spun toward us. Flashbulbs went off like wild lightning, making the room as bright as day. The live chat on the streaming platforms was exploding. The screen was covered in comments like: “OMG! Propose! Propose!” “They are literal goals!” The auctioneer’s voice trembled with excitement. “Fifty million! Mr. Julian Vance bids fifty million! Any higher bids? Going once… twice… sold!” The moment the gavel hit, the room erupted into thunderous applause. I turned to look at Julian, my heart beating so fast it felt like it would burst out of my chest. Seven years. From the days when he had nothing, to now, standing at the absolute peak of the entertainment industry. I had shared cold, cheap takeout with him in leaky basements. I had drunk myself to stomach bleeding at corporate dinners just to secure auditions for him. Now, was he finally going to keep his promise to marry me? Julian stood up. Under the watchful eyes of the world, he took the velvet box containing the pink diamond from the model. He turned around, his deep eyes looking in my direction. My breath caught. My eyes grew hot, and I even began to raise my hand, ready for him to slide a ring on it. But Julian walked right past me. A cold draft swept by as his suit jacket brushed against my arm, taking all the warmth from my body with it. I froze. My mind went completely blank. To the absolute shock of the audience, Julian walked to a quiet corner in the second row. Sitting there was a young, rookie actress wearing a simple white lace dress, looking like a frightened little deer. Chloe White. Julian stopped in front of her and opened the velvet box. The pink diamond sparkled brilliantly under the lights. It hurt my eyes to even look at it. “For you, Chloe.” Julian’s voice wasn’t loud, but through the microphone he was wearing, it echoed clearly through the entire hall. The silence in the room was deafening. Even the camera flashes stopped for a second. Chloe covered her mouth, her eyes instantly turning red as tears rolled down her cheeks. “Julian… this is too expensive. I can’t take this…” She shook her head, looking incredibly fragile and adorable. But Julian smiled warmly. It was a gentle, adoring smile he had never once shown me. With his own hands, he put the fifty-million-dollar necklace around Chloe’s slender neck. “Take it. You just started your career. You need something to give you confidence. Think of this necklace as my encouragement to a promising talent.” He said it so grandly, so righteously. Then, he turned his head and looked at me, still frozen in my seat. There was no guilt in his eyes. Instead, there was only a cold, condescending look of charity. “Selena, you’re already an Oscar winner. You have everything. This necklace is too heavy for you; you don’t need it. Chloe needs it more to light up her path ahead. You’re always so generous, I’m sure you don’t mind, right?” I looked at his familiar face, suddenly feeling like he was a complete stranger. My heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand, crushed into tiny pieces. I could barely breathe. “I don’t mind?” He took the pink diamond I had waited years for, on the night everyone expected him to propose, and gave it to a rookie who had done nothing but copy me and talk trash about me behind my back. And he had the nerve to ask if I minded? I bit my lower lip so hard that I tasted iron. But I didn’t scream. I didn’t run away crying. I am Selena Shaw. I never let anyone see me defeated. I slowly stood up, smoothed down the wrinkles of my gown, and kept my spine perfectly straight. Under the strange glances of the crowd, I walked right up to Julian. “Julian,” I said. My voice was terrifyingly calm. “Since you love playing the generous hero so much, I hope the two of you stay locked together forever.” Without waiting for his face to turn pale, and ignoring Chloe’s fake gasp of shock, I turned around. Stepping in my five-inch heels, I walked out of the gala, head held high. The moment I reached my private dressing room backstage, all the strength was drained from my body. I collapsed onto the sofa, my hands shaking uncontrollably. Julian’s spare jacket was still draped over the back of the couch. I took a deep breath, wanting to throw his trash jacket into the bin. But as I grabbed it, a neatly folded document slipped out of the inner pocket. There was no title on the front, only a stamp: “Project: Eclipse” As if possessed, I opened it. With just one look, the blood in my veins completely froze. “Step 1: Gradually strip Selena Shaw of her major brand endorsements. Under the excuse of “rebranding,” quietly transfer these contracts to Chloe White.” “Step 2: Use Selena’s social media traffic and industry connections to build hype for Chloe’s new movie. If necessary, leak negative rumors about Selena to make Chloe look pure and innocent.” “Step 3: On the day Chloe wins Best Actress, officially announce the breakup with Selena, securing Chloe’s place as the new queen of Hollywood.” At the bottom of the page was Julian’s signature. The date was from six months ago. Six months ago—right when Chloe first signed with his agency. I stared at the document, and a dark, hysterical laugh escaped my lips. Tears fell from my eyes, blurring the signature of the man I had loved for seven years. He didn’t just stop loving me. He had been planning this. He was systematically draining my life, my career, and my influence to build up his new girl. He wanted to destroy me to make her a star. Julian Vance, you are a monster.

Late at night, a heavy storm raged outside. The wind violently slapped sheets of rain against the floor-to-ceiling windows of the villa, making an eerie, pounding sound. I sat in the pitch-black living room, refusing to turn on the lights. Next to my feet were two packed suitcases. At 2:00 AM, the electronic lock on the front door clicked open. Julian walked in, smelling of rain and expensive cologne. He casually loosened his tie and flicked on the living room lights. The sudden brightness made me squint. He saw me sitting on the couch, and then his eyes landed on the suitcases. His movements paused, and his brow instantly furrowed. His voice was filled with irritation. “Selena, what kind of drama are you pulling now?” “I already explained the auction to you. Chloe is just a rookie. What’s wrong with me helping her out? You’re the veteran here. Did you really have to embarrass me in front of everyone tonight?” As he spoke, he poured himself a glass of whiskey at the bar. He sounded so righteous, as if I were the one who had committed a crime. I looked at him—this man I once thought I would grow old with. “Explain?” I let out a cold laugh and threw the “Project: Eclipse” documents directly at his face. The sharp edge of the paper sliced across his cheek, leaving a thin red line. The sheets scattered all over the floor. Julian looked down, and when he realized what the papers were, his pupils shrunk. He snapped his head up, his mask of calm sophistication finally cracking. “You went through my things?” he growled. “If I hadn’t, how would I have known that my boyfriend of seven years was planning to ruin my life for a girl he met six months ago?” I stood up, walking toward him step by step. “Julian, did you think I was an idiot? Did you think I would let you ruin me and thank you for it?” Julian’s throat moved as he swallowed hard, a flash of panic in his eyes. But he quickly forced himself to look calm, even reaching out to grab my hand. “Selena, let me explain. This plan… it’s just a standard business strategy from the agency. You’re already at the top. You don’t need these resources anymore. But Chloe is different. She’s fragile. She needs protection.” “Fragile?” I slapped his hand away, my eyes as cold as ice. “She’s fragile, so you stole my global luxury cosmetics contract and gave it to her?” “She’s fragile, so you paid tabloids to spread rumors that I was a diva on set, just to make her look sweet and hardworking?” “Julian, you’re not protecting her. You’re trying to destroy me!” Julian’s face went completely dark. His controlling ego was triggered. “Selena, don’t be ungrateful! Everything you have right now—which part of it didn’t come from me? Without me, do you think you’d be where you are today?” He pointed a finger at me, his words cutting like knives. I looked at him, feeling a deep, hollow sadness. “Julian, have you forgotten? Years ago, you were the one kneeling in the snow outside a director’s office, begging for a five-minute audition. I was the one who used my own salary to buy you a supporting role!” “When you were framed in that media scandal and almost canceled, I was the one who used every single connection I had, begging people face-to-face to save your career!” “I made you who you are, and now you have the nerve to say you gave me everything?” I grabbed the whiskey glass from the bar and smashed it onto the floor. With a loud shatter, glass flew everywhere, and the amber liquid spilled across the floor—just like our broken seven years. Julian was stunned by my anger and took a step back. “You’re crazy, Selena. You’re completely out of your mind.” He took a deep breath, returning to his cold, arrogant tone. “Fine. Since you’ve seen it, I have nothing to hide. Let’s take some space. You need to calm down. As for the contracts, I’ll compensate you.” “Compensate?” I grabbed the handle of my suitcase, my back straight, looking like a queen going to war. “Julian, keep your disgusting charity to yourself. As of tonight, we are done.” “You better pray your little rookie can stay hidden under your wing forever. Because if she flies out, I will show both of you what happens when you cross me.” Dragging my suitcases, I walked straight out into the pouring rain. Behind me, Julian’s furious roar echoed through the storm: “Selena! If you walk out that door, don’t ever think about coming back! Let’s see how long you can last in this town without me!” I didn’t look back. The freezing rain drenched my face, but it couldn’t put out the fire of revenge burning in my chest. “How long can I last?” “Julian, I will outlast both of you.” “I will stand at the absolute top and watch you slide into the mud.”

The morning after I left Julian, the retaliation came exactly as expected. My agent, Harper, walked into my apartment with red eyes and threw a stack of termination papers on the table. “Selena, Julian is going crazy. He used all his industry backing. Overnight, he got your remaining five brand deals canceled. Even the massive sci-fi movie you were supposed to star in has recast you with Chloe.” I calmly flipped through the contracts. The cancellation fees were in the millions. Julian was trying to completely blacklist me, forcing me to crawl back to him. “That’s not all,” Harper’s voice shook. “The internet is flooded with fake news about you. They’re saying you’re jealous of rookies, that you threw a tantrum at the gala, and they’re even hinting that you have an old billionaire sugar daddy…” I opened Snapchat and Twitter. Eight out of the top ten trending topics were about me. “SelenaShawGalaTantrum” “CancelSelenaShaw” “PoorChloe” At 3:00 AM, Chloe had posted a selfie with red, teary eyes: “I will always respect my seniors’ advice. I will work harder and not let anyone down.” Under her post, Julian’s fanboys and paid bots were leaving nasty comments: “Selena is just a bitter, aging actress who’s jealous of Chloe’s beauty!” “Bullying rookies? Cancel her forever!” “Julian finally saw her true colors. Good riddance!” I looked at the toxic comments, a cold smile appearing on my face. This was Julian’s play. Destroy my career, then ruin my reputation. “Harper, how much money do we have left in the business account?” I asked. Harper paused. “After paying off the fees, we won’t even be able to pay next month’s rent for the studio. Selena… maybe you should just talk to Julian? You guys were together for seven years…” “Never,” I cut her off. “I would rather starve than beg that piece of trash for mercy.” Just then, Harper’s phone rang. She picked it up, her face changing expressions rapidly. After she hung up, she looked at me, hesitating. “What is it?” “It’s… the production team of “Wilderness Survival”,” Harper bit her lip. “They’re offering to pay triple your usual rate to guest-star in the premiere episode. But…” “But what?” “But Chloe is a permanent cast member on that show. And you know how dangerous that show is. It’s unscripted, real-deal wilderness survival.” I understood instantly. This wasn’t a sudden lucky break. This was a trap set up by Julian. He knew I was broke. He was using the massive paycheck as bait to get me onto a show where I would be forced to make Chloe look good, get humiliated, and become the laughingstock of the internet. “We should decline. It’s too dangerous,” Harper said, worried. “No,” I raised my head, a dangerous spark in my eyes. “Accept it. Why wouldn’t we?” Since they wanted to play, I was going to play with them until the very end. I wanted to hit them the hardest when they thought they were winning.

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