In my past life, my girlfriend’s childhood friend had brazenly impersonated a rich scion, causing chaos wherever he went. When I exposed him, he flew into a rage and deliberately slammed his car into me.
As I lay dying, my girlfriend Anastasia’s older sister, Charlotte, knelt and pleaded with her to save my life. But Anastasia remained utterly indifferent.
“Impossible. Zachary is far too noble to dirty his hands for a little shrimp like him. Don’t get carried away just because you’re dating me; know your place!”
Charlotte knelt for three days and three nights, only to be dragged away by Zachary, brutally assaulted, and left for dead. Until my heart finally gave out, Anastasia was still protecting Zachary, covering up his crimes, refusing to believe he had run me over, let alone brutalized her own sister.
Reborn, I didn’t choose to humble myself and beg Anastasia to spare me a glance. Instead, I called my older brother, Liam.
“Bro, there’s a guy impersonating me, causing trouble out there. Could you have someone deal with him?”
“Also, the engagement with the Reed family we’ve been planning? I’m switching the bride. From Anastasia Reed to her older sister, Charlotte.”
For years, I’d poured countless resources into the Reed family, only to raise an ungrateful viper. I wanted to see how arrogant Anastasia and her childhood friend would be without me backing them.
“Alex Cole! You publicly humiliated me tonight; I’ll make you regret it! You were so arrogant when you exposed me, weren’t you? Did you ever imagine this day would come?”
Zachary Thorne’s familiar voice rang in my ears before I could even process it.
“You’re just a pathetic nobody, a penniless loser. Anastasia doesn’t even care about you. Even if I crush you into the dirt out here in the middle of nowhere, she’ll still protect me, believe it or not!”
Dazzling headlights were rushing closer, the engine howling as if to run right over me. A searing jolt of pain ripped through my body.
That’s when I truly realized I had been reborn.
I was back in the exact moment Zachary had slammed his car into me.
My shattered phone lay nearby, somehow having dialed Anastasia’s number. Her cold, disgusted voice was still echoing from the speaker.
“Alex Cole, just stop calling me. I know you’re just jealous of Zachary and me, always looking for reasons to cause trouble. Zachary would never hit you with his car. That vehicle cost millions; it’s not worth totaling it just to run you over. No matter what you say this time, I won’t believe a word of it!”
She fell silent after that, apparently waiting for my reaction. But unlike my previous life, I didn’t try to argue, to beg for help, or to convince her of Zachary’s true nature.
Watching Zachary drive off, leaving me for dead, I painstakingly reached out, hung up the call, and used my phone’s last ounce of battery to dial another number.
Once it connected, I gritted my teeth, suppressing the agony that wracked my body. “Bro, save me.”
My ears buzzed, and I couldn’t quite make out his reply, but I knew, with absolute certainty, that my brother would come. I was Liam’s favorite, the future second-in-command of the powerful Cole family, and our family’s protection around me was absolute. These past years, living under a hidden identity and dating Anastasia, had already been the absolute limit of what they would tolerate. If they ever found out someone dared to harm me, they would unleash a thousandfold retribution, tormenting them until they begged for death.
I was dragging my body, trying to crawl towards the edge of the road, when Zachary’s car suddenly reappeared, speeding back towards me.
The window rolled down, and his eyes, dark and sinister, fixed on me. “Anastasia said you weren’t dead. She was right.”
My heart plummeted. If he hit me again, I truly wouldn’t survive.
I watched, helpless, as his foot stomped down on the accelerator. Just as despair threatened to consume me, a bright red sports car screamed into view from another direction, smashing head-on into Zachary’s Maybach.
A woman sprang out of the car, rushing towards me, her voice laced with urgent concern. “Alex Cole, are you alright?!”
It was Charlotte Reed, Anastasia’s older sister.
Memories flooded back – her desperate pleas in my previous life, her agonizing fate, abused and left for dead by Zachary right by my hospital bed. A tide of complex emotions washed over me, but most profoundly, guilt and gratitude. I vowed to protect her this time, never letting her come to harm again.
Without thinking, I pushed her away. “Don’t mind me, run!”
But it was too late. Zachary materialized behind Charlotte, seizing her by the hair and yanking her back. Before she could even speak, he brutally kicked her. “You wretched bitch! Where did you crawl out from? Don’t you know who I am, Young Master Thorne? Daring to stop me from teaching this nobody a lesson? Do you have a death wish?!”
Charlotte crumpled, clutching her stomach, cold sweat beading on her forehead. But she mustered all her strength and bit down hard on his hand. Zachary let out a howl of pain, then grabbed a heavy stone from the ground and savagely brought it down on her.
Watching Charlotte’s head crack open and bleed, my heart ached with agonizing pain. “She’s Anastasia’s sister! You hurt her, aren’t you afraid Anastasia will come after you?!”
Zachary paused, then a wicked smirk twisted his lips as he looked at her bruised face. He slapped her violently, sending her sprawling onto the ground, then reached for his belt. “So what if she’s Anastasia’s sister? It’s her honor that I even look at her. Besides, I’m the Cole family’s second young master. The Reeds owe everything they have to me. If I claim this woman was harmed by you, who do you think Anastasia will believe? Me or you? She’ll finish you off, and I’ll be completely off the hook!”
I was frantic, but my legs were crushed, rendering me utterly immobile. All I could do was reveal my true identity. “Enough! I am the real Cole family scion! She is under my protection. If you dare lay another hand on her, I’ll leverage every connection the Cole family has to make your life a living hell!”
Zachary burst into mocking laughter. “That’s a pretty convincing lie, but Young Master Liam has already personally acknowledged me as his brother! How dare you try to impersonate me here?!”
My heart lurched. I had no idea about any of this. My parents had been deeply in love; there were no other illegitimate children. My brother Liam had personally promised me, time and again, that I was his only true brother. Where had this imposter come from?
Before I could sort out my thoughts, Zachary’s face twisted into a sinister snarl, and he raised his foot, intending to kick me into the river that lay just beyond the road. Rolling down there would mean certain death.
Just as I braced myself, trying desperately to find a way to save myself, Charlotte launched herself from behind him, wrapping her arms tightly around Zachary’s legs. “Alex, run! I’ll hold him here!”
She bit him relentlessly, and Zachary was completely enraged, about to unleash his fury on both of us when the unmistakable thrum of a helicopter sliced through the night sky.
The Cole family had arrived!
Liam’s secretary, Mr. Chen, sprinted from the helicopter, immediately seeing to our rescue. Zachary was promptly knocked out and dragged away, but Charlotte, overwhelmed by the terror, had fainted.
I urgently ordered them to rush her to the hospital for treatment, while my own broken bones were merely set and temporarily stabilized. I waited anxiously outside the emergency room for what felt like an eternity, until Charlotte was safely moved to a private room. Only then did the knot of dread in my chest finally loosen.
I immediately called Liam to assure him of my safety. Hearing I was injured, Liam’s fury erupted. He slammed his fist on a table, his voice booming. “Who dared to harm you?! If I weren’t tied up with urgent matters, I would have flown there myself with Mr. Chen and broken every one of their limbs, making them beg for death!”
I didn’t want him to escalate things too much just yet. “Bro, about the engagement with the Reed family, originally set for next month… I want to change the person.”
Liam sounded surprised. “You’re not marrying Anastasia? You were so devoted to her for three years; I thought you’d never marry anyone else.”
“No, I don’t want that woman anymore. I want Charlotte.”
“And all the resources I poured into Anastasia over the years? I want every single one of them back!”
I had treated Anastasia like the love of my life, but she’d treated me like a doormat, letting her friends insult me. In both lives, she had fiercely protected Zachary. I was utterly disgusted with her.
Liam’s voice grew solemn. “Understood. Your word is law.”
“I’ve recalled Mr. Chen, but I’ve left the Cole family’s personal security detail to protect you. Rest well and recover at the hospital. And don’t even think about trying to hide the extent of your injuries from me; I’ll have someone investigate thoroughly. If anyone laid a finger on you, I’ll make sure they lose ten!”
This time, before I could reply, the call disconnected. I had wanted to ask about Zachary, but it seemed that would have to wait.
I turned to walk towards Charlotte’s room, only to hear hurried footsteps echoing down the corridor. Looking up, I saw Anastasia’s furious face. She raised her hand and delivered a stinging slap across my face, her voice seething with uncontrollable rage.
“Alex Cole, have you lost your mind?! You actually hired people to bully Zachary?! Haven’t you heard how fiercely protective his brother is of him?! You’re practically asking for a death sentence!”
My face was still turned from the impact, but I managed a mocking laugh. “He’s a Cole? Then why is his name Thorne?”
Anastasia scoffed. “What do you know? He’s a late-in-life child, the family’s most cherished and protected. It’s not strange for him to live under a different name for safety! He and I have been friends since childhood, and even I only just learned his true identity. What hope did a backwoods bumpkin like you have?”
Just then, I saw Zachary, his face bruised and swollen, emerge from behind Captain Reynolds, one of our family’s security chiefs. Anastasia looked at me with smug satisfaction, clearly believing my downfall was imminent. I wondered why Zachary had been released, when Captain Reynolds walked directly towards me. I expected him to step in front of me, to protect me, but instead, he suddenly pulled a club from his belt and swung it violently at me.
“What kind of trash are you, daring to bully our Young Master?! You’re looking for a fight! This is a lesson from the Young Master!”
The blow connected, and blood streamed down my forehead, painting my vision crimson. My head buzzed, threatening to pass out. Yet, his eyes were bloodshot, truly looking like he was protecting his master. I was utterly bewildered. “You’re insane! Don’t you recognize me? I’m the Cole family’s second son!” But he spat, his expression feral.
“You’re delusional! I’ve worked for the Cole family for nearly ten years, and I’ve only ever known Young Master Zachary! What are you, daring to impersonate him?!”
Zachary finally stepped out from behind Captain Reynolds, his gaze cold and calculating, like a butcher eyeing meat on a chopping block. He turned to Anastasia. “Anastasia, what should we do about this? Tonight, I just wanted a quiet drink with friends, but your boyfriend here publicly accused me of impersonating the Cole family’s young master.”
“Our family’s motto has always been discretion, so I tolerated it, even had him politely escorted to a car. But he then had the audacity to accuse me of hitting him with my car! Damaging the Cole family’s reputation, no less! How are we going to settle this score?”
Every word he uttered was a blatant distortion of the truth, utterly absurd. But Anastasia’s face paled. She immediately grabbed my collar, yanking me out of my wheelchair. Then she kicked my knee, forcing me to my knees with a sickening thud. She ordered someone to hold my head, slamming it repeatedly against the floor. “Alex Cole, I never imagined you were this kind of person! Apologize to Zachary, now! Keep bowing your head until he’s willing to forgive you!”
I trembled with rage, struggling to get back on my feet. My brother Liam had always taught me that a man’s knees are sacred, never to be bent except for those he loved most. Since birth, I had only ever knelt before my parents. What they were doing was a profound humiliation of my very being!
Anastasia, seeing my struggle, merely sneered, her voice dripping with haughty arrogance. “Still refusing to accept reality? I’ll let you in on some insider information: the Cole family is finally formalizing an engagement with the Reed family, and I am the chosen bride.”
“People of our standing don’t associate with penniless nobodies like you. Give up your pathetic ambitions of climbing the social ladder. Apologize to Zachary now, and perhaps, out of consideration for our past, I might even persuade him to spare your life!”
Veins pulsed violently on my forehead, and I laughed, a bitter, mocking sound. “Anastasia, the Cole family will never formalize an engagement with you. You’d better start preparing to be disowned by the Reed family!”
This seemed to ignite Anastasia’s fury. She snatched a nearby vase, smashing it against the ground, then picked up a sharp shard. Raising it, she aimed for my thigh.
“You pathetic piece of trash! How dare you speak to me like that? If you insist on being stubborn, I have no problem turning you into a complete cripple. Let’s see how arrogant you can be then!”
I was held down, unable to move, and could only close my eyes in despair. But the agonizing pain I expected never came. When I opened my eyes, I saw Charlotte, who had appeared out of nowhere, shielding me. Her hospital gown was soaked in blood, but she still stood defiantly in front of me, speaking in a weak voice. “Don’t believe anything Zachary says. He’s a despicable, immoral thug! He’s not a Cole family young master at all.”
“And if you want to hurt Alex, you’ll have to kill me first!”
Anastasia stared, aghast, at the crisscrossing fresh and old scars on her sister’s body, about to ask a question. But Zachary reacted faster, hiding the flicker of panic in his eyes. He roughly grabbed Charlotte and slapped her, bellowing.
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My brother beaned someone on the basketball court and tasked me with delivering his apology note.
But curiosity got the better of me. I tore open the envelope, and suddenly, a stream of text filled my vision—like comments on a livestream.
【LMAO, he hits the one girl out of everyone on the court? This dude is so obvious. Does he really think that’s a good way to get the main girl’s attention?】
【Seriously, can these two siblings get a clue? One intentionally injures people on the court, the other is constantly clinging to the male lead. Are they addicted to being the villains in our main couple’s love story?】
【They’re so annoying. Can’t they just disappear and let our leads have their moment?】
【It’s fine, lol. The two of them are just a couple of simps. The brother is the worst—a total coward who’s been crushing on her from the start. This is just for comedic relief. Hahahaha.】
What? I might be a simp, that’s fine.
But my brother? The six-foot-two dreamboat with abs, who can play basketball, who’s a total charmer, who’s kind and sunny and has a voice that could melt butter—he’s a simp, too? And he’s got a secret crush?
I laughed so hard I almost died.
That night, I rewrote the apology note into a full-blown love letter and delivered it to the girl myself.
1
By the time Briar got back from the teacher’s office, I’d already been waiting in the hallway for nearly ten minutes.
The hot sun bleached the ends of her hair, and her washed-out school uniform was buttoned meticulously to the very top. Her skin was pale, and her eyes were red-rimmed. She had the look of someone who was easy to push around.
And honestly, she was.
She was clutching a packet of competition math problems. Every question was covered in perfect checkmarks, yet next to each one, she’d used a red pen to write out an even more concise solution.
It wasn’t hard to guess what had happened. Someone’s cold remarks had clearly gotten to her.
I narrowed my eyes and straightened up. My friends fell in line behind me, completely blocking her path.
“You’re Briar?” I said, crossing my arms and looking down at her with my prettiest, most intimidating eyes.
Students in the hallway started to stare, their whispers buzzing in the air.
“What’s going on? How did Briar get on the wrong side of her?”
Someone else drawled, “Who knows? Probably because she’s been spending all her time with John for the math competition. You know how jealous she gets.”
“That makes sense. Looks like she’s about to get a warning.”
The whispers were impossible to ignore.
Briar clutched the hem of her uniform, her fingers twisting the fabric. When she looked up, her wide, doe-like eyes were trembling. She was obviously nervous, but she forced her voice to be steady. “Can I help you?”
The captions were a torrent of criticism.
【First she harasses the male lead, now she’s bullying the female lead. I’m so sick of her! Does she really think this will make him like her?!】
【Is she starting trouble again? I’m scared. Is our girl gonna get bullied?】
【Don’t worry. If she touches a single hair on her head, the male lead will be here in a second to put her in her place!】
【But I don’t think the main couple even likes each other yet.】
【He’ll still protect her instinctively. They’re soulmates, after all.】
Out of all that text, two words stood out.
Bullying?
Did I really look like I was here to bully her?
Briar kept her expression neutral, watching us without flinching. Her fingers tightened, feeling every fold and crease in the papers she held. It was almost a reminder to herself—reaching for things that don’t belong to you will only bring trouble.
Just as she was bracing for whatever nasty thing I was about to say, a rich, floral scent drifted through the air.
A love letter appeared right in front of her.
“So, here’s the deal,” I said. “My brother has a huge crush on you.”
“But he’s a total coward, so he asked me to give you this.”
The pink envelope was perfectly square, adorned with a decorative stamp and sealed with a beautiful, pressed flower.
Briar stared at it, momentarily stunned. A letter this exquisite seemed completely out of place with her own simple, almost threadbare existence. But there, written clearly on the front, was her name.
All of her energy was poured into studying, into winning scholarships just to claw her way out of poverty. She had never, ever imagined a scene like this.
She had no idea how to react.
Her heartbeat, a beat late, began to thunder in her ears, a frantic rhythm that, combined with the catcalls and whoops from the surrounding students, threatened to swallow her whole.
Her eyes were red, her earlobes were red, and her cheeks were even redder.
So cute.
She was the perfect match for my handsome brother.
I placed the envelope in her hand with a grin. The paper, warm from the sun, was so hot it made her fingertips curl. The teasing from the crowd grew louder.
Her blush deepened, creeping all the way to her ears. “Is this… is this from the guy on the basketball court the other day?” she stammered, her voice barely a whisper.
She sounded uncertain.
“Yep! The one who accidentally hit you with the ball.”
Suddenly, a flash of bold, passionate red broke through her otherwise drab memories. A boy in a red jersey. His features were sharp, almost fierce, but when he had crouched down to her level, he had apologized, flustered, gently asking if she was okay.
It was a stark contrast to John’s cold, detached aura. This boy had smelled of the scorching afternoon sun, sweat still glistening on the lean muscles of his arms. He radiated a vibrant, almost overwhelming life force that was unique to boys his age.
But even in that moment, her attention had been drawn to his shoes.
Expensive, limited-edition sneakers that silently screamed the chasm between their social classes.
He was like John, and yet, completely different.
Even though the game was on the line, he’d had a friend take her to the nurse’s office and had even pressed his student ID card into her hand, telling her to use it for any medical fees.
As he turned to leave, she saw the name printed on the back of his jersey.
Martin.
A name that sounded as vibrant and full of life as he was.
“Remember now? My brother, Martin. He’s a senior,” I said, giving her a wink.
She slowly tightened her grip on the letter, her voice soft and trembling with nerves. “Yeah.”
“He really, really likes you. But… he’s a coward.”
The morning sun was bright and warm. Her eyelashes fluttered. She couldn’t help but wonder.
A boy so dazzling you could hardly look at him directly…
Could he really be a coward?
2
For that little stunt, the captions cursed me out for days.
【She just has to mess with the main couple’s story, doesn’t she! So gross!】
【Does she really think the female lead would fall for her brother? Talk about delusional.】
【LMAO, her brother is the classic second male lead. The main guy might be cold, but that’s exactly what the female lead likes about him. That whole ‘cold on the outside, warm on the inside’ thing.】
【Totally. Someone as insecure and sensitive as the female lead would prefer a quiet, steady presence. Someone with a personality that different from hers would just make her uncomfortable. She only accepted the letter to avoid an awkward scene. There’s no way she actually likes him.】
Was that really true?
As I walked into the exam hall with my pencils, I saw Briar.
Her cheeks were flushed, and she seemed distracted, her gaze frequently drifting to a boy sitting in the front left of the room.
That was my brother, Martin.
My eyes followed hers, and then I froze.
My gaze was fixed on the chocolate bar still sitting in Martin’s palm.
Wait.
He didn’t give it to her?
…Or was he rejected?
I had seen the exam seating chart ahead of time, and the moment I knew Briar would be in our hall, I told Martin.
He had just grunted, a nonchalant “Mm,” but the tips of his ears had turned red.
I sensed something was up. “You already knew, didn’t you?”
“A friend told me.”
“They know you have a crush on Briar, too?! No way, when did you get so bold?”
I caught the dark look he shot me.
…Oh, right. It was probably because I’d been so over-the-top when I delivered the letter.
He’d found out from his friends that same day that I’d swapped his apology for a love letter. But he hadn’t denied it, his excuse being that it would have embarrassed her. I saw right through it. He was clearly happy about it.
So, I had given him a special chocolate bar a friend had brought me from abroad and told him to give it to Briar the next day.
For the first time, the boy who was always so composed and confident showed a rare flicker of adolescent awkwardness.
“Won’t that be… too sudden?” he’d asked, hesitating.
“You don’t give a girl gifts when you’re trying to win her over?” I’d asked, confused. “When you’re pursuing a girl, you give her flowers, bags, gifts! If you just talk and don’t spend any money, that’s not called pursuing, that’s called harassing.”
I was very self-righteous about it.
Martin had agreed.
I just never imagined his first attempt at giving a girl a gift would end in a flat-out rejection.
I couldn’t help but sneak a few glances at him. He was resting his head on one hand, his eyes downcast. A faint blush dusted his pale skin. He looked like he was thinking, or maybe just zoning out.
And the chocolate bar between his long fingers was mangled beyond recognition.
The captions were a symphony of mockery.
【LMAO, I told you the female lead wouldn’t fall for a side character. He got rejected so hard!】
【He played himself. The clown is him! Hahahaha.】
【They’re all just simps for the main couple anyway. Might as well watch the circus.】
Simps.
Haha, I was actually starting to feel a little sorry for us.
3
With a wooden expression, I walked past John’s desk without stopping.
I kept going, right past him.
The boy, who was usually the picture of indifference, actually flinched, his eyelids twitching.
Yes, not only were Briar and my brother in the same exam hall, but John was here, too. Of course. The side characters only exist to ornament the main characters’ love story.
My brother was already miserable enough.
I couldn’t embarrass myself, too.
The seating for the monthly exam wasn’t strict. I easily swapped seats with the boy in front of me and sat down next to Briar.
She snapped back to reality, a lock of hair falling beside her ear, hiding her momentarily panicked eyes.
The fountain pen at the edge of her desk was knocked off by her elbow, rolling to my feet.
The logo on the cap was faded, with only a single letter, L, barely visible. The body of the pen was heavily worn, the plating rubbed away to reveal the base metal underneath.
I was about to bend down and pick it up for her, but she was faster. She shot out of her seat, grabbed the pen, and clutched it tightly in her palm.
“Thank you,” she said, noticing my intention. Her voice was quiet and quick.
For a moment, I let go of my usual spoiled princess act and gave her a friendly smile. “No problem.”
Can you even write with a pen like that?
I couldn’t help but watch her. When the exam papers were handed out, she took a normal gel pen from her pencil case and neatly wrote her name.
The battered fountain pen just sat quietly on her desk.
It seemed to be there more for companionship than for use.
My mind drifted. Maybe she just didn’t like chocolate. That’s why she rejected Martin. Next time, I’ll have him give her some school supplies. He can’t get rejected for that, right?
The chirping of the cicadas outside mingled with the soft scratching of pens inside. I didn’t know how to do any of the problems, so I just spun my pen, rested my chin on my hand, and openly studied her.
She wrote slowly, deliberately. She was slightly hunched over, her strokes careful and unhurried. I’d heard she was the first person from her hometown to ever get into this high school. She had fought her way out of a family that favored sons over daughters, enduring everyone’s doubts and pressure to get to where she was today.
Like a small white flower blooming from the face of a cliff.
Beneath her seemingly fragile exterior was a stubborn and unyielding soul.
How could someone who craved love and validation so much fall for someone as cold and almost cruel as John?
I couldn’t figure it out.
Perhaps my stare was too intense.
She turned her head slightly and looked at me. When she saw I had left the last multiple-choice question blank, she pursed her lips and subtly flashed me a ‘C’ with her fingers.
My eyes lit up.
Way more generous than that cheapskate John!
A girl this kind and gentle deserved my brother!
So what if we were simps?
I’d be her little simp, too!
4
As usual, John finished his exam half an hour early.
A wave of cold air washed over me as he walked past my desk. His dark eyes flicked down for a split second, his gaze landing on my long-finished answer sheet.
At that moment, I was slumped over my desk, doodling circles on my scratch paper out of sheer boredom.
It was obvious I was waiting for someone.
But even as he handed in his paper and was about to walk out of the classroom, he heard no sound of a chair scraping behind him.
The proctor looked up as the boy returned. “What’s wrong?” he asked, surprised.
“Forgot my pen,” John said flatly.
The crisp, straight line of his pant leg passed by my desk for a second time.
And I was still doodling.
I didn’t even look up.
All the attention I used to lavish on John was now focused entirely on Briar. I was doodling and fretting. What excuse could I use to get Briar and my brother to have lunch together?
5
With five minutes left, Briar stood up to hand in her paper.
Martin and I capped our pens in perfect sync, got up, and followed her out of the classroom, shoulder to shoulder.
“How come you didn’t go find John today?” he asked.
I pouted. “Don’t want to.”
We pretended to be going with the flow of the crowd, but we were actually tailing her all the way to the cafeteria.
After getting our food, we both sat down right across from her.
When Briar looked up, she was met with two pairs of nearly identical eyes staring at her intently.
I chose to ignore the sea of empty tables around us and gave her a wink. “It’s so crowded in here. You don’t mind if we sit here, do you?”
She lowered her head. “N-no, it’s fine. Go ahead,” she mumbled.
Martin and I rarely ate in the main first-floor cafeteria. I glanced at the sad-looking vegetables on her tray and blurted out, “Is that all you’re eating? There’s no nutrition in that…”
As I spoke, I picked up a piece of braised pork, but the moment it hit my tongue, I gagged. “Blech… this is disgusting…”
Briar looked startled. “Is it… spoiled?” she asked hesitantly. But the glossy sheen and fragrant aroma suggested otherwise.
“It’s nothing, she’s just a picky eater,” Martin explained to her sheepishly, handing me a napkin to wipe my mouth.
“Oh, okay.” Briar awkwardly averted her gaze. She was about to say she had an unopened bottle of water in her backpack, but then she saw me stand up.
“I’m going to go buy some milk to rinse my mouth out. You guys take your time.”
The slender hand that had just touched her backpack zipper quickly retreated.
Now, there were only two of them at the table.
The atmosphere instantly became tense. Briar ducked her head even lower, her world shrinking to the confines of her tray as she ate, bite by silent bite.
Suddenly, she heard the boy across from her speak, his voice tentative. “Are you on a diet?”
Her poverty suddenly had a plausible excuse.
Briar’s hand paused. “Mm,” she mumbled, the sound barely audible.
“You’re under a lot of academic pressure right now, you should eat properly,” Martin said, his eyes downcast. His voice was slow and deep. “She’s probably not coming back. Can you help me finish this meat? It’d be a shame to waste it.”
Before she could refuse, he had already picked up his tray and scraped all of his meat onto hers.
She was silent for a long time.
Martin finally looked up and met her wide, shimmering, red-rimmed eyes.
She stared at him, a storm of unreadable emotions swirling in their depths, before she forcibly tucked them away behind a soft, watery gaze.
Her expression felt strangely familiar to him, so familiar it made his heart ache.
…It made him want to protect her.
She looked at him, and then a small smile curved her lips. Quietly, but clearly and firmly, she said, “Thank you, Martin.”
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A fire broke out in our apartment building. I woke up choking on smoke to find the apartment empty. Terrified, I called my husband, Ross, only to turn and see him burst through the front door, naked.
He swept me into his arms and ran for the stairs. It was then that I saw them: the angry red scratches down his back, the countless dark bruises blooming on his neck. My vision blurred.
“Why were you outside?” I sobbed, my pregnant belly tightening with a sharp, painful cramp.
Through the chaos of the fleeing crowd, I saw a woman, her own clothes in disarray, clutching Ross’s coat and shoes. I knew her. She was the new secretary at his company, the one with eyes so much like mine.
The man who had once treated me as his entire world had cheated.
“Mom,” I said into the phone, a call that crossed an ocean, “I’ve decided to immigrate.”
It was the final, definitive end for me and Ross.
1
“Doctor,” I began, my voice trembling, “I’m five months along. Is it still possible to terminate?”
Ross had been by my side for every single prenatal appointment since I became pregnant. No matter how busy he was at work, he always made time. Now, as I watched his familiar silhouette pacing outside the examination room, a storm of reluctance and grief washed over me, but the question still escaped my lips.
The doctor’s hand paused on my stomach. I flinched, and she quickly apologized before asking in surprise, “You want to terminate this pregnancy?”
Seeing the resolve in my eyes, she answered thoughtfully, “It’s possible, but we’ll need the father’s signature.” She tried to persuade me, her voice gentle, but I couldn’t hear a word she was saying.
Ross’s explanation for that night was that he’d had too much to drink at a business meeting and had stepped outside to be sick, stripping off his clothes in the process. I didn’t believe a word of it.
Meanwhile, the story of Ross Mercer, the heroic husband who braved a fire to save his pregnant wife, was everywhere. The internet lauded him as the perfect man. The media dug up our entire love story—childhood sweethearts, married young, the wealthy CEO and his beloved wife. Photos of my priceless diamond wedding gown from our fairy-tale wedding went viral. Overnight, Ross’s love for me became a modern-day legend.
I knew the love had been real. But I also knew it was gone. Ross’s heart had already strayed.
After the check-up, he carefully helped me out of the room, his voice laced with concern for me and our child. I saw the furtive, cautious glances he kept shooting my way. I pretended not to notice and walked straight ahead.
Though I planned to end the pregnancy, I still went through with the routine scans. As we were listening to the baby’s heartbeat, his phone rang. A subconscious glance was all it took for me to see her name: Ashley.
He didn’t even wait to hear the rest of our child’s heartbeat, something he’d never done before. He stepped away to take the call. His tone was cold, distant, but I could hear the effort behind it, the careful mask. He frowned and said, “I’ll be right there.”
He came back, his arm wrapping around my shoulders, and whispered his excuse. “A major client just arrived at the office. I have to go back for a bit. I’ll come pick you up later to take you home.”
The doctor, as always, smiled and praised him for being such a wonderful husband. I just lowered my head, unable to force a smile of my own.
After he left, I lay on the examination table, the steady, healthy rhythm of my baby’s heart echoing in my ears.
I didn’t wait for him to pick me up. I took a cab home.
When he arrived, he launched into his usual routine, trying to charm me, apologizing profusely for abandoning his wife and child for work. But the playful antics and sweet words that used to make me happy now felt hollow and rehearsed. His over-the-top performance was just another layer of camouflage for his betrayal. The more he tried, the bigger his guilt seemed.
I gently pushed him away, pretending not to see the flash of disappointment in his eyes, and told him to go shower.
As the sound of running water filled the bathroom, I stared at his blurred silhouette through the glass and finally made my decision. I sent the message.
【Doctor, I’ve decided to go through with the induction. Please schedule it for me.】
The child I had once anticipated with so much joy was not destined to be mine. If I couldn’t give him a happy, stable family, it was better for him not to be born at all.
2
Ross was laying out his clothes for the next day, a habit of his, his voice a constant stream of questions.
“Honey, where’s my black tie?”
“Sweetheart, what about my white trousers?”
I sighed and went into the closet, finding each item for him. He wrapped his arms around me from behind, his lips pressing against the nape of my neck. His heavy breathing felt like a poison seeping into my heart, making my skin crawl.
“My love,” he murmured, “what would I ever do without you?”
His hands began to roam, but the moment he turned my face to his, he froze. “Ava? Why do you look so pale?” His eyes were still filled with that deep, adoring look, with no hint of insincerity. “Maybe you should come to the office with me tomorrow. I’m worried about you.”
I just shook my head, silent.
“Are you still angry about that night?” he asked softly. We both knew what he was talking about, but we had an unspoken agreement not to mention it.
“No, don’t overthink it,” I said, pushing down the wave of nausea and patting his shoulder.
He clung to me for a while longer before finally heading into the bathroom. The second I heard the shower start, I picked up his phone. The password was my birthday. He hadn’t changed it.
The chat history was mostly business. On instinct, I opened Ashley’s social media feed.
【Afternoon tea from the boss. So good!】
【On a business trip with the boss today, and he bought me a necklace! Absolutely in love.】
【Who else has a boss that gives them a six-figure bonus for their birthday?!】
Every post was about him. They had been to Paris, Italy, Japan… She had photos from countless landmarks, her smile radiant, her eyes full of adoration. Ross wasn’t in any of the pictures, but I knew he was the one behind the camera.
A sharp pain lanced through my chest. My gaze fell on his briefcase. From a hidden compartment, I pulled out his second phone.
The password was my birthday again.
A bitter, sickening feeling rose in my throat. He loved me so much, yet he couldn’t stop himself from straying. I opened his chat with Ashley. The last message was from her.
【After Ava has the baby, will you still be this good to me?】
It was accompanied by a cute, pouting selfie.
Ross had replied with a simple, “Yes.”
I didn’t have the courage to scroll up. The moment the water in the shower stopped, I turned off the screen and put the phone back.
He came out and wrapped me in his arms, whispering the usual sweet nothings, telling me how much he loved me. But my mind was drifting away.
Ross, when you say you love me, who are you really thinking of? When you look at me, whose face do you see?
Thinking back, I should have known something was wrong the first time I met Ashley. She was practically my clone. At the time, Ross had dismissed it as a coincidence. But then, the calls from his “secretary” became more frequent, the reasons more trivial. A broken pipe, a burnt-out lightbulb, a lost cat, a missing ID… she could summon him with a single, insignificant phone call.
He said she was just a young girl trying to make it on her own in the big city. He said she reminded him of me when I was her age. Each time, he would hold me and swear that I was the only one he would ever love.
But this time, I couldn’t believe him anymore. His lies, his genuine affection for Ashley—they had become the blades that were tearing me apart.
The next morning, I woke to the sound of her voice. I opened my bedroom door to see Ashley and Ross standing at the dining table, playfully arranging breakfast.
“Stop it, you,” she giggled.
“Boss, feed me!” she pouted, leaning closer. Ross smiled, a look of helpless indulgence on his face, and picked up a small dumpling to feed her. She playfully nipped his fingers, her eyes sparkling with flirtatious charm. He reached out to tickle her, trying to make her let go, and in that moment, our eyes met.
3
He pushed Ashley away instinctively, a look of panic on his face as he rushed toward me. “Did we wake you?”
I pretended not to see, just shaking my head. Ashley darted out from behind him, squeezing between us. “Ava, the boss really, really loves you. Look, he went out and bought all this breakfast for you himself. Your favorite crab roe buns and taro cakes.” She pouted at Ross. “All I get are these boring old dumplings. What a mean boss.”
She clung to my arm, making a face at Ross, who just smiled, a fond, doting look in his eyes. I stared at her, and the Van Cleef & Arpels necklace around her neck seemed to burn into my vision. The receipt for it was still in the pocket of Ross’s coat. I had once thought it was a gift for me.
“It’s alright if the boss isn’t good to you,” I said coolly. “After all, Miss Lee is very good to herself. Buying such an expensive necklace on a whim.”
With that, I turned and sat down at the table. The two of them were still frozen in place, one tense, the other still smiling.
I couldn’t taste a thing during that breakfast.
Before we left for the day, Ross insisted I come to the office with him. I had no interest, but no energy to refuse. But Ashley beat me to it, slipping into the passenger seat and rolling down the window.
“Ava, I get carsick in the back. Would you mind sitting back there today?”
I looked past her, my eyes meeting Ross’s. All I saw was his discomfort. “Ava,” he started, “Ashley hasn’t been feeling well…”
I didn’t wait for him to finish. I just opened the back door and got in. The jolting of the car made my stomach clench, and a cold sweat broke out on my skin. I had to grip the handle just to stay upright. In the front, Ross and Ashley chatted and laughed as if I wasn’t even there.
“Ava, why are you sweating?” Ross finally noticed me during a red light, turning to look back.
I shook my head, pushing through the discomfort.
After that, he kept looking back at me, so distracted he even ran a red light without realizing it. The whole world knew how much he loved me. But only I knew that his heart held another woman. Without even being aware of it himself, his heart was slowly, inexorably tilting toward Ashley. The girl who he said was “just like me.”
At the office, Ross was constantly by my side, hugging me every few minutes. To any outsider, we looked like a deeply devoted couple, inseparable. But when I looked into his eyes, I could see Ashley’s face, her every smile and frown, filling his thoughts. I was just a tiny, 5% sliver.
I felt sick. I made an excuse about needing some air and escaped his grasp. He looked hurt, a wounded expression in his eyes.
【Wow, this is the first time I’ve seen the boss’s wife. She’s so beautiful.】
【I know, right? They’re a perfect match.】
【But she and Ashley look so much alike!】
【Oh my god, is the boss such a romantic that he had to hire a clone of his wife as his secretary?】
I stood a short distance away, listening to the gossip, watching Ashley stare at Ross, her eyes red-rimmed. Our gazes met. Hers was full of resentment. I couldn’t tell if she was resentful about being my replacement, or just being a replacement in general.
In the company breakroom, I pushed a freshly brewed cup of coffee toward Ashley. She shook her head.
“I’m pregnant.”
The coffee cup suddenly felt scalding hot in my hands. I almost lost my balance, but I forced myself to sit down. So, that was why he was always so concerned, so caring toward her.
“I don’t know if I should congratulate you,” I said, my voice flat, “because… I’m terminating my pregnancy.”
I pushed the surgical consent form and the divorce papers across the table to her. “If you can find a way to get Ross to sign these, his position is all yours.”
“Really?” Ashley looked skeptical, her surprise mixed with suspicion.
I nodded again. I had no tolerance for this kind of betrayal. A marriage couldn’t hold five people—me, him, her, and our two unborn children.
I don’t know how she did it, but a few days later, she sent back the signed documents. I checked them carefully. It was definitely Ross’s signature.
Somehow, though, I don’t think he knew what he had signed.
On the day of the procedure, my mother flew back from overseas to be with me.
“Your brother is back too,” she said.
My heart skipped a beat. She was talking about Ethan Jiang, her second husband’s son, my stepbrother. My only childhood playmate.
I nodded, feeling a strange unease. I had refused to immigrate with them because of Ross, and Ethan had been so angry he’d blocked me. We hadn’t spoken in ten years. But I didn’t have time to dwell on him. The most important thing now was the termination and the divorce.
Fate, it seems, is a mischievous old man who loves a good show. At the hospital, my mother and I ran into Ross, who was there with Ashley for a check-up.
Across the crowded waiting room, he saw me.
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My grandfather, Arthur, had always looked down on my grandmother, Eleanor, despising her for her lack of education and subjecting her to a constant barrage of criticism.
When she asked me to buy her a box of hair dye online, he flew into a rage.
In front of the whole town, he bellowed:
“You’ve got one foot in the grave, what’s the point of all this? You think dyeing your hair will make you immortal?”
“An old woman trying to look young—it’s pathetic! You’re just a waste of money!”
But this same old man, who thought every penny spent on my grandmother was a waste, soon went online and ostentatiously bought 999 roses.
The recipient was another old woman.
…
1
My grandfather came home while I was in the yard, dyeing my grandmother’s hair.
She was only in her early sixties, but her hair was already completely white. If not for her sturdy constitution, you’d think she was pushing eighty.
She rarely bothered with her appearance, but her old friend’s birthday was next week, and they had all planned to take a commemorative photo together.
“Nina, they won’t laugh at me after this, will they?”
The older generation dreaded gossip, and now her confidence was wavering.
I kept my hands moving, quickly and efficiently applying the dye to her hair.
“What’s there to laugh at? Everyone in the city dyes their hair. If they laugh, it just shows how ignorant they are! Don’t worry, Grandma, it’ll look great! You’ll look at least twenty years younger, I promise!”
Women of all ages want to feel beautiful. Though she was a little embarrassed, I could see the anticipation sparkling in her eyes.
“You silly girl, you and your wild ideas…”
But before she could finish, a sharp voice cut her off.
“What is this?”
My grandfather, back from his calligraphy class in the city, stood at the courtyard gate, his brow deeply furrowed.
“Is this how you waste your money on useless things?”
Everyone in our small town knew my grandparents didn’t get along. The sound of their arguing drew a crowd. It was hard to say whether more people came to mediate or to watch the show.
Surrounded by onlookers, my grandmother fidgeted, her face flushed red as she tried to explain.
But my grandfather had no patience to listen. He pounded his cane on the ground.
“Is there any point? No amount of dye will change the fact that you’re halfway to the grave! Instead of wasting money on this foolishness, you should be buying fertilizer for the fields!”
In stark contrast to my grandmother’s weathered appearance, my grandfather, who did no physical labor, was robust and full of vigor. He was nearly seventy but looked fifty. When he cursed, his voice was strong and resonant.
I couldn’t stand it anymore. I stepped in front of my grandmother, who was stammering and trying to shrink away.
“Grandma does all the work and earns the money. What’s wrong with her dyeing her hair? There’s a limit to how much you can freeload off her. Why don’t you use the money from your calligraphy classes to buy fertilizer?”
To my surprise, my grandfather didn’t get angry. He laughed.
“What do you know? If it weren’t for her, do you think a college graduate like me would be trapped in this godforsaken town? She works because her conscience is guilty! Because she knows she owes me and wants to make it up to me!”
I wanted to say more, but my grandmother tugged on my sleeve, her eyes pleading.
“Don’t… don’t say any more…”
But seeing her reaction, my grandfather seemed determined to twist the knife. He pointed at the crowd, his voice growing louder with every word.
“Look at them! A college graduate married to an illiterate farm girl! Don’t you think every single one of them is laughing at me in secret? You’re concerned about your pride now? Where was your pride when you used your dirty tricks to force me to marry you?”
Faced with his accusations, my grandmother’s lips trembled. Words rose to her lips, only to be swallowed back down. Her cloudy eyes filled with tears, which she fought back with gritted teeth.
I knew there was a story behind their marriage, but this clearly wasn’t the time to dig it up. My grandmother didn’t want to fight, so I could only help her inside.
But my grandfather’s voice followed us, relentless.
“An old woman acting so indecently, wasting money. Eleanor, aren’t you ashamed of embarrassing me even more?”
I closed the door.
When I turned around, my grandmother looked like a child who had done something wrong. She clutched my sleeve, her eyes brimming with tears.
“Nina, can we return the unopened box? I don’t want to dye it anymore.”
2
I shook my head.
“It’s your money. No one can tell you how to spend it. Your friends are waiting for you to look beautiful for your picture. Grandma, don’t let other people’s opinions change you. You’ve never done anything wrong.”
I don’t know which words struck a chord with her, but after a moment of silence, she slowly nodded.
After removing the plastic wrap and washing her hair, I held up a mirror.
A smile finally touched my grandmother’s swollen, red eyes.
I breathed a sigh of relief. I was about to say something else to cheer her up when her expression darkened.
“Nina, do you really think I’ve done nothing wrong?”
I was taken aback, then nodded vigorously. It suddenly occurred to me that, aside from me, perhaps no one had ever affirmed her in all these years. My grandfather, the self-proclaimed intellectual, never lifted a finger around the house. He looked down on the town, and he looked down on her even more. Not insulting her was the best she could hope for; approval was out of the question.
Besides me, on my school holidays, she had no one to talk to. She was lonely, her confidence constantly shaken.
I rushed to comfort her, a stream of reassuring words tumbling out. She listened quietly, wiping the corners of her eyes.
“You’re a modern college student. You know more than your grandfather. Hearing you say that makes me feel better.”
Her words reminded me of what my grandfather had said earlier. I hesitated, wondering if I should ask. But she seemed to read my mind and sighed, her gaze drifting off into the distance, as if she were looking back many years.
“Your grandfather is right. If not for an accident, he wouldn’t have married me.”
More than forty years ago, the town had produced two college students: my grandfather, Arthur, and my grandmother’s best friend, Vivian. The three of them had grown up together. My grandmother had a secret crush on my grandfather, but she knew she wasn’t good enough for him. When she saw that he and Vivian had feelings for each other, she quietly stepped aside.
Everyone said they were a perfect match. They were about to get engaged when Vivian, whom she hadn’t heard from in a long time, suddenly asked to meet.
“You like Arthur, don’t you? Let me help you.”
My grandmother, unsuspecting, drank a cup of tea and lost consciousness. When she woke up, she was in bed with my grandfather, both of them barely clothed, both of them passed out. Villagers burst in and found them.
In those days, in a town like ours, reputation was everything. The engagement was called off. My grandfather, scorned by the community, was forced to marry my grandmother.
From that day on, he hated her. He believed she had schemed to ruin his life.
As she told me this, my grandmother’s face was calm, but her eyes held a sorrow that words couldn’t describe.
There were still holes in the story. If I could just figure them out, maybe I could resolve their conflict.
I asked, “What happened to Vivian?”
“She—”
The door was kicked open with a loud bang. My grandfather stood there, his face dark, his teeth gritted.
“Are you trying to be some tragic heroine, dredging up this old dirt over and over? Aren’t you ashamed? Stop poisoning the child’s mind with your nonsense!”
My grandmother flinched, instinctively shrinking back. She might not have known what a “tragic heroine” was, but she knew it wasn’t a compliment. She swallowed her words and forced an awkward smile at me.
And in that moment, I finally understood. The conflict between them wasn’t unresolved because my grandmother didn’t want to fix it. It was because my grandfather never gave her a chance to explain.
3
We didn’t speak of it again.
After the New Year, it was time for me to go back to school. My grandmother, perhaps sensing my worry, squeezed my hand, then let it go.
“Don’t worry. I’ve made it this far. What could possibly happen? Just study hard. That’s the best way you can repay me.”
I didn’t dare look back as I left, afraid to see the reluctance in her eyes. I never imagined that this ordinary farewell would almost be the last time I saw her.
After the holidays, another snowstorm hit the state. On a whim, I opened the security camera app for our home, wanting to see what my grandmother was doing.
All I saw was my grandfather, alone in the yard, practicing his Tai Chi. I was about to switch camera angles when I noticed a pile of spilled feed near the pigsty. My grandmother was lying motionless in the snow nearby.
I didn’t know how long she had been there. Only her dog was pacing anxiously around her.
I was horrified. I thought perhaps my grandfather hadn’t seen her, so I was about to turn on the two-way audio to alert him. But then, in the next second, he coldly stepped over her and went inside, without so much as a glance in her direction.
By the time I rushed from my school to the hospital, my grandmother was out of danger but still unconscious.
My grandfather saw me, his expression cold. He grabbed his coat from the back of a chair and started to leave.
“If the medical staff hadn’t required it, I wouldn’t be wasting my time here. I’m leaving. I have a calligraphy class tomorrow. An old woman like her, falling down like that. This hospital stay is just going to be another waste of money. Useless.”
Before he left, he shot an impatient glare at my grandmother on the bed.
I watched him walk out of the room. I had no desire to stop him.
Growing up, it always felt like there were three people in our house, but at the same time, it felt like there were only two: me and my grandmother. My father had died young, and my mother had remarried. It was my grandmother who had raised me. My grandfather was like a ghost, a lodger in his own home. As long as I could remember, they had slept in separate rooms. No one was allowed in his room. I had snuck in once as a child and had seen it was filled with old photographs, all of a strange woman.
I never told my grandmother, but now, I suspect she knew all along.
I was well aware of my grandfather’s cold-heartedness. I wasn’t disappointed, just heartbroken for my grandmother’s years of suffering.
I went to tuck her in, but I saw her eyes were open. I didn’t know how much of my grandfather’s tirade she had heard. Her expression was neutral, and I was relieved. I didn’t want to upset her by asking.
Holding her hand, I finally felt the fear catch up to me. Her fall hadn’t been that serious, but if the ambulance hadn’t been called in time, she could have frozen to death in the yard.
But looking at her tired eyes, I swallowed the words I wanted to say.
To my surprise, she was the one who broke the silence, her voice unexpectedly calm.
“When I fell, I didn’t pass out right away. I called for him to help me. He ignored me. I thought that after all this time, it would be in the past. But after a lifetime together, he still hates me. Hates me enough to watch me freeze to death. Why? Aren’t people supposed to have hearts?”
She stared blankly at the ceiling, her face full of confusion, as if she were speaking to herself, questioning fate.
I couldn’t imagine what she must have felt when he ignored her pleas for help. And I had no answer to her question now. All I could do was squeeze her hand, fighting back my own tears.
4
My grandfather never visited her once before she was discharged.
After I finished the discharge paperwork, she finally looked away from the hospital room door. She didn’t say anything, but I could see the disappointment on her face. I tried to distract her, telling her the car would be there soon and suggesting she look at her phone.
A few moments later, she leaned over, pointing at the screen.
“Nina, what does this say?”
I looked. It was a video posted on my grandfather’s account. A massive bouquet of flowers was being carried out of a car by two people and presented to an elegantly dressed woman. Time had been kind to her, adding a certain charm to her features. It was Vivian. She beamed, throwing her arms around my grandfather, who stood beside her. And this old man, who I had only ever known to be stern and unsmiling, was looking at her with a tenderness I had never seen before.
My hands trembled as I tapped on the caption. A long, dense block of text, a forty-year ode to unrequited love. In that moment, I was incredibly grateful that my grandmother couldn’t read. Because at the end of the caption, a single, dismissive line—no other love could ever compare—erased forty years of her devotion and suffering.
But even without the caption, the video said it all. Even I could guess who the woman was. I couldn’t believe that my grandmother, as her old friend, wouldn’t recognize her.
I forced a smile. “It’s nothing, Grandma. Don’t ask.”
Perhaps my smile was too strained. She nodded quietly, then reached up and cupped my face with her rough palm.
“I won’t ask, I won’t ask. It’s okay, Nina, my sweet girl. Don’t cry.”
But I could feel her own hand trembling. She wasn’t a strong woman. When faced with trouble, she would have a good cry before figuring out what to do. But since the hair dye incident, it seemed her tears had run dry.
On the way home, I tried to make conversation several times, but her absentmindedness always cut me short. I was worried she might do something foolish.
But I soon realized my fears were unfounded.
As we reached the town entrance, she suddenly grabbed my hand, her voice hesitant but tinged with a new determination.
“Nina, you’re educated. I want to ask you something.”
“What is it?”
“Can people our age get a divorce? Do old people in the city get divorced?”
I was stunned, then overjoyed. I had always been afraid she wouldn’t want to go through the trouble at her age, afraid of the gossip, so I had never suggested it. I never imagined she would come up with the idea herself.
Fearing she might change her mind, I nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! Lots of old people in the city get divorced! Grandma, are you thinking…”
When she spoke again, her voice was much firmer. “This has haunted me my whole life. I’m tired of it. She was the one who pushed Arthur on me against my will. Now that she’s back, I’m giving him back to her!”
On the walk home, her steps grew more and more resolute.
When we reached the gate, we saw my grandfather heading out, carrying a beautifully wrapped box.
“I need to talk to you.”
He ignored her, as usual, not even sparing her a glance.
As he was about to walk away, my grandmother’s voice rang out, louder and more determined than before.
“Arthur, I want a divorce!”
My grandfather finally stopped. He turned and gave her a sarcastic sneer.
“You’re the one who shamelessly used dirty tricks to marry me. What kind of game are you playing now?”
“I saw the video you posted.” My grandmother was unfazed by his insults. She repeated, her voice firm, “I want a divorce!”
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“Mr. Hawthorne, are you ready to sign?”
Adrian Hawthorne stared blankly at the grand, echoing hall of City Hall. The clerk’s impatient voice finally pierced the fog in his mind, and the reality of the situation crashed down on him.
He was reborn.
And not just reborn—reborn on the very day he was supposed to marry Ella Sterling.
He vividly remembered the last time, a lifetime ago. Joy had been a frantic pulse in his veins, waking him at dawn, compelling him to drag an impassive Ella here, impatient and eager, to be first in line.
But now, his fingers traced the edges of the marriage certificate, his face a mask devoid of any happiness.
The Sterlings were the premier family of New York City, a dynasty built on iron-clad rules and suffocating etiquette. As the heiress, Ella needed a husband who would be her unshakable support—a man who was gentle, devoted, and willing to orbit entirely around her and the Sterling empire, a man who would handle her every worry so she wouldn’t have to.
So, in his previous life, to be that perfect husband, he had thrown it all away. He abandoned his career, his ambitions, his very self. He resigned from his post, managed the household, and sacrificed his entire existence for her.
He hadn’t even reached fifty before the years of thankless toil had left him riddled with illness.
It was during those last, agonizing days, confined to his bed, that he found the love letters she had written to his younger brother, Leo.
“You are a free bird, meant to soar in the endless blue sky. Because I love you, I could never bear to see you caged.”
“Your brother bears a striking resemblance to you. Every time I look at his face, I can numb myself and pretend it’s you I’m spending my life with. I’ll let him handle the children, the elders, the household chores. I only want you to be happy, free, and to live every day in brilliant splendor.”
In that single, soul-crushing moment, he understood. Ella, the woman he had grown old with, had been in love with his brother, Leo Hawthorne, all along.
Marrying him had been nothing more than a calculated means to an end.
The truth shattered him. When his son found out, he rushed home not with comfort, but with a face alight with glee, eagerly pleading with him from his bedside.
“Dad, since Mom’s always been in love with Uncle Leo, you should just divorce her already.”
“You’ve never been his equal, not for a single day. Uncle Leo is a diplomat, a man of the world, and you… you’re just a stay-at-home husband. You’re not worthy of her. You’ve kept the family running smoothly all these years, so Uncle Leo never had to worry about a thing. Now they can finally be together. Why don’t you just let go and give them your blessing?”
The rage and despair were a final, fatal blow. His world went black.
When he opened his eyes again, he was here. Back at City Hall, on this very day.
Love yourself before you love anyone else. This time, he wouldn’t make the same mistake.
Just as he was about to speak, the phone in Ella’s clutch rang.
It was Leo.
The name on the screen transformed her icy expression into one of sudden, melting tenderness. She stepped away to take the call. He couldn’t hear what was said, but a minute later, she walked back, her tone clipped and businesslike.
“Adrian, your brother sprained his ankle. As his future sister-in-law, I should go check on him. You can sign the papers and head home by yourself.”
She didn’t wait for a reply, already striding toward the exit. Her assistant scurried after her.
“Ms. Sterling, the board meeting is about to start! That contract is worth billions, you can’t—”
“Cancel it.”
With that, Ella floored the accelerator, and her car vanished into the stream of city traffic.
Watching her disappear without a backward glance, Adrian felt only a chilling sorrow and a sharp, cutting irony.
In his past life, his eyes and heart had been filled with nothing but Ella. He never knew that her eyes and heart had been filled with nothing but Leo. How had he been so blind to such an obvious devotion? He had wasted his entire life.
At the counter, the clerk tapped on the glass partition.
“Mr. Hawthorne, are you going to sign this or not?”
A faint smile touched Adrian’s lips, but it never reached his eyes. “I am.”
He picked up the pen. On the application form, where the groom’s name should be, he deliberately, stroke by stroke, wrote three words:
Leo Hawthorne.
Then, he took the family registry and handed over the page belonging to his brother.
Ella, you love him so much. Then I’ll grant you your wish.
Walking out of City Hall, he glanced at the marriage certificate in his hand and a genuine, sharp smirk tugged at his lips.
Bride: Ella Sterling.
Groom: Leo Hawthorne.
He wondered what expression Ella would wear when she finally saw these documents.
Just as he tucked the certificate into his briefcase, his phone buzzed. He answered, and the regret-tinged voice of his Director at the State Department came through the line.
“Adrian, my boy, are you absolutely certain about resigning? The people in this department are one in a million, and you’re one of the brightest I’ve ever seen. Your potential is limitless. We have an overseas post opening up, and I was planning on giving it to you, but then you hand me your resignation.”
“I know family is important to you, but I just have to say…”
Before the Director could finish, Adrian’s voice cut through, firm and clear.
“Director, my apologies. I was foolish before. I’m not resigning. I’ll take the overseas post.”
In his last life, the moment he resigned, that very same overseas assignment had been handed to Leo. He had naively believed that sacrificing his dreams for love would earn him Ella’s devotion in return. Instead, he was imprisoned in the Sterling mansion for the rest of his days, his talent and spirit withering like a flower cut from its stem. Meanwhile, Leo, stationed abroad, had become a star, an icon for students and a source of national pride.
This life, he would not be shackled by love. He would not sacrifice himself for Ella Sterling again.
From this day forward, he would live for himself. He would live his own brilliant life.
The Director on the other end of the line was stunned into silence for a moment, then his voice erupted with excitement and joy.
“Excellent! That’s just excellent! I’ll submit your name immediately. Adrian, you can take a few days off. Prepare yourself at home. You’ll be departing in two weeks.”
Adrian paused. Two weeks? That was the day of his… no. It was the day of Leo and Ella’s wedding.
He smiled. “Understood.” Then he hung up.
With those two monumental tasks completed, a huge weight lifted from his shoulders. He hailed a cab and headed for the Sterling residence.
Outside the gates of the Sterling mansion, Adrian keyed in the code. As the door swung open, a concerned voice drifted from inside.
“Sera, are you sure it was okay to leave my brother at City Hall all alone for me? That doesn’t seem right…”
Ella was kneeling, gently massaging Leo’s ankle. Her usually cold voice was laced with a tenderness Adrian had never heard directed at him. “Don’t be silly. Your brother is always so understanding. He won’t be angry over something so small. That’s precisely why I agreed to marry him.”
Standing in the doorway, Adrian let out a bitter, silent laugh.
Understanding?
Oh, yes. He was incredibly understanding. So understanding that this time, he’d arranged for her to marry the man she truly loved.
He walked in without a word. Hearing his footsteps, Ella quickly withdrew her hands and stood up. She placed a tube of ointment on the coffee table.
“You’re back,” she said, her voice a flat statement. “Leo twisted his ankle, so I was helping him with it. He’s having trouble walking, so he’ll be staying with us for a few days.”
Adrian offered a placid smile. “Of course. I understand. Given your new relationship, that’s the least you could do. And as for him staying here, it’s perfectly appropriate.”
The words sounded right, but they hung in the air with a strange, double-edged meaning. Before she could probe further, Leo grinned and slung an arm over Adrian’s shoulder.
“Thanks for having me, bro. I even brought you a gift from my trip.” He brandished a designer shopping bag. “No offense, but you’re still young. Why do you always dress like an old man? I got you some stuff from Europe.”
Adrian glanced down at his own attire—a simple, tailored black and white suit. It wasn’t flashy, but it was respectable, perfectly suited for his role as the son-in-law of the Sterling family. He was young, too. He used to love vibrant colors. But for the sake of a “respectable” image in his past life, he had let his youth fade to gray.
Seeing Adrian’s downcast gaze, Leo assumed his words had hit their mark, and the smile on his face widened. “Go on, bro, try them on. You can wear them to work tomorrow.”
This time, before Adrian could respond, Ella spoke up. “Leo, Adrian has already resigned. He’ll be a stay-at-home husband from now on. Those clothes aren’t suitable for him. They’d look better on you. You should keep them.”
At her words, Leo’s eyes lit up. “Bro, you really quit?”
The undisguised triumph and excitement in his voice caught Adrian off guard for a second. He knew exactly why Leo was so thrilled. In their past life, they had attended the same university, majored in the same subject, and even joined the State Department together. Yet Adrian had always managed to outperform him, to be one step ahead. Now that he had voluntarily stepped down, how could Leo not be ecstatic?
Adrian said nothing, his silence allowing their assumptions to fester.
Leo took his silence as confirmation and couldn’t contain his joy. A grin spread across his face as he tugged on Ella’s sleeve. “We’ve been talking for a while, Sera. I’m getting hungry. When’s dinner?”
Ella immediately turned to Adrian. “It’s getting late. You should start cooking. And remember, Leo doesn’t eat onions or cilantro, so make sure not to add any.”
It was a command spoken from habit, one Adrian had heard countless times before. But this was the first time it sounded so grating. In the past, he would have been in the kitchen before she even finished her sentence. But slaving away over a hot stove was predicated on one thing: his love for her.
Now that his love was dead, his willingness to serve her had died with it.
He looked up at the woman before him. “I’m not feeling well. Have one of the maids do it.”
Ella’s brow furrowed slightly. “Adrian, you know I can only eat your cooking.”
Habit. A bitter taste filled Adrian’s mouth. Yes, a habit he had painstakingly created. After learning about her frequent stomachaches and picky eating, he had spent countless hours researching recipes and mastering dishes that were gentle on her stomach. He had cured her ailment, but in doing so, had made her palate so discerning that even Michelin-starred chefs couldn’t satisfy her. She only wanted his food.
He forced a thin smile. “You should get used to it. What if I’m not around someday?”
She didn’t grasp his meaning. “Not around? Where would you be going?”
Sensing the shift in atmosphere, Leo stepped in to play peacemaker. “Hey, how about I cook?”
“No!” Ella’s rejection was instantaneous and sharp. “A man of your standing shouldn’t be in the kitchen. How could you be around all that grease and smoke?”
Leo looked momentarily taken aback by her fierce protectiveness, then a smug smile played on his lips. Adrian, however, could only offer a grimace. Ignoring their tender moment, he threw a final sentence over his shoulder as he headed to his room. “Well, I’m not doing it.”
The evening ended with Ella taking Leo out to a fancy restaurant.
She seemed not to have noticed his strange behavior, or perhaps she just didn’t care. After all, she was utterly convinced of his undying love, certain he would never leave her. She probably assumed he was just sulking because she’d abandoned him at City Hall. So, the next day, in a rare gesture, she cleared her schedule to take him for his wedding suit fitting.
The entire floor of the haute couture salon had been cleared for them. Twenty bespoke, handcrafted suits hung on gilded racks.
When the curtain of the fitting room was drawn back, Adrian stood bathed in the glow of a crystal chandelier. He wore a stunning, ink-black, peak-lapel three-piece suit. Silver thread embroidered a delicate vine that crept from his shoulder to his waist, and a rose crafted from deep red jewels bloomed over his heart.
The boutique staff gasped in awe. Standing to the side, a flicker of envy, swift and sharp, crossed Leo’s eyes. He stepped forward, circling Adrian. “Wow, bro, that suit is incredible. I almost want to try it on myself.”
Adrian looked at him, a slow smile spreading across his face. “If you want to, then you should.”
The staff, knowing it was bad luck for someone else to try on the groom’s suit, tried to intervene. But Adrian was insistent, his gaze fixed not on them, but on Ella.
When he had first emerged in the suit, her expression had been placid, unmoved. But now, at the prospect of Leo trying it on, a flicker of light entered her cool eyes. A deep, unspoken longing.
He understood. In her heart, she was marrying the wrong man, but she desperately wanted to see the man she loved dressed as a groom.
The curtain was drawn again. When it reopened, Leo stood there, wearing the exact same suit.
“Bro, this suit is amazing, but it just doesn’t look right on me.” He stood before the mirror, complaining that it was a bit too large, that it didn’t fit him properly.
Adrian just smiled. He turned to the head tailor. “Please alter this suit. To his measurements.”
The statement stunned everyone. Not just Leo, but even Ella, whose gaze had been glued to his brother, finally snapped back to reality.
“What do you mean by that?”
Adrian’s smile was infuriatingly calm. “Nothing. The wedding is still a few days away. I was thinking of losing a little weight.”
He was lying.
Thanks to his little switch at City Hall, the groom on the marriage certificate was now Leo. This wedding, therefore, was Leo’s. And the suit, naturally, had to be tailored for him.
Later, when they were choosing the rings, Adrian bypassed the display and handed a massive, ten-carat diamond ring directly to Leo. “Try this on.”
He showed no interest in what he himself liked, only asking Leo for his opinion. Once he saw that Leo loved it and that the size was right, he ordered that one.
It was the same story with the shoes.
This string of bizarre actions finally made Ella realize something was deeply wrong.
As they left the shopping center, she was about to confront him, but Leo tugged on her sleeve. “Sera, I’m craving some mango ice cream.”
As always, Leo’s needs took precedence. Ella swallowed her questions and turned to go.
She returned moments later with two mango-flavored ice cream cones. When she offered one to Adrian, he didn’t take it.
“I’m allergic to mango.”
A flash of embarrassment crossed Ella’s face. “I’m sorry. I’ll go get you another one.”
As her back receded into the crowd, Leo held up his ice cream, his expression a mask of smug triumph. “You’ve known all along, haven’t you, bro? That I’m the one she’s always loved. Why else would she remember my favorite flavor but forget you’re deathly allergic?”
The taunt landed, but Adrian’s face remained a placid lake. This lack of reaction clearly irritated Leo. He stepped closer, his voice turning venomous.
“I could never beat you at anything, my entire life. But this? In this, I’ve won. Completely.”
He leaned in, his tone dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Tell me, Adrian. How does it feel? To know the woman you’ve loved for so long only has eyes for me? I’m ecstatic. You’ve always been the one on top, but now, finally, I get to watch you suffer.”
A twisted, poisonous smile spread across Leo’s face, a serpent’s grin that sent a shiver of dread down Adrian’s spine.
Before he could react, Leo gave him a violent shove.
The world tilted. Sky and ground swapped places. Adrian’s body felt weightless as he plunged backward down the stone steps. In a desperate, reflexive move, he shot his hand out and grabbed onto Leo.
THUD. CRACK.
Two heavy impacts echoed as they both tumbled down the stairs.
Adrian felt as if every bone in his body had been rattled loose. As he tried to push himself up, a violent, cramping pain exploded in his lower abdomen. A warm gush of fluid spread beneath him.
He looked down, his hand trembling. It was blood. So much blood.
His mind went white. Beside him, Leo had already started crying out in pain.
“Leo!”
From a distance, Ella saw the scene. The ice cream cones dropped from her hands, splattering on the pavement.
Two men had fallen, but she ran to only one. She rushed to Leo’s side, her face a mask of panic, and helped him into the car, speeding off toward the hospital.
From beginning to end, she never once glanced at Adrian, lying in a spreading pool of his own blood.
As if on cue, the heavens turned against him. Dark clouds gathered and a sudden downpour began, the rain washing away the blood, mingling with it in crimson streams that flowed into the gutter.
The pain in his abdomen was a sharp, relentless drill. His strength gave out, and as his consciousness faded, the world dissolved into blackness.
When he woke up, he was in a hospital. A kind stranger, he learned, had called an ambulance for him.
Ella, consumed with worry for the injured Leo, had probably never even realized he had fallen too. Or perhaps, she had seen, and simply hadn’t cared. He wasn’t the one she cherished, after all.
It didn’t matter. The marriage certificate now legally bound her to Leo.
His face was pale as he tried to get up to handle his discharge papers. Just then, the door opened and a doctor walked in, holding a report.
“Mr. Hawthorne, that was a nasty fall. You’re lucky you were brought in so quickly. Any later, and we might not have been able to save your reproductive function.”
The words buzzed in his ears like a swarm of angry hornets.
How could he have forgotten? In his past life, he had taken the same fall. Back then, terrified he wouldn’t be able to have a child with Ella—a living symbol of their love—he had vowed to be the best father imaginable, to pour all his love into that child.
And in the end, how had that precious son repaid him?
By begging him on his deathbed to divorce his mother, to make way for her and Leo.
A humorless smile twisted his lips. “Doctor,” he said, his voice firm. “I don’t want it. The ability to have children. Please, schedule the surgery.”
The doctor looked surprised but didn’t press the issue. He simply handed Adrian a consent form for a vasectomy. “Before the procedure, we’ll need a signature from your legal next of kin.”
That evening, Adrian returned to the Sterling mansion with the consent form.
Ella was in the kitchen, a place she never entered, awkwardly trying to make soup for Leo, who had a minor fracture. She glanced up when Adrian walked in, a single, dismissive look that held no concern for his own injuries.
He gave a sad, inward smile. He folded the paper to conceal most of its contents, then handed it to her.
“Ella, the wedding planner called. The venue is almost ready. They just need your signature on this final approval form.”
Ella, flustered by her unfamiliar kitchen duties and anxious to get back to Leo, waved a dismissive hand. “You can handle these things from now on.”
Without even looking at the document, she snatched a pen and hastily scrawled her name across the bottom of the vasectomy consent form.
The very next day, Adrian took the signed form and, without a moment’s hesitation, underwent the procedure.
The surgery left him weak, forcing him to stay in the hospital for a few days to recover. During that time, his social media feed was a constant stream of Leo’s posts, all featuring Ella. Ella, who hated having her picture taken, was now smiling in countless selfies with Leo. Ella, who never set foot in amusement parks, was now a VIP pass holder at every theme park in the city with Leo. Ella, who would never touch street food, was now sitting on a tiny stool in a designer gown, eating grilled skewers with Leo.
All the things she had refused to do with him, she was now doing with Leo.
Leo even posted a special dedication: “So lucky to have such an amazing sister-in-law.”
And beneath it, a single, silent “like” from Ella.
Adrian closed his eyes and set his phone face down on the bedside table.
It didn’t matter. He would be leaving soon.
On the day of the Sterling family banquet, Adrian saw Ella again. And Leo, clinging to her arm. After their last confrontation, Leo had dropped all pretense of civility. And Ella, who claimed to see Leo as “just a brother,” seemed perfectly content with the arrangement.
Adrian ignored them and walked straight into the house. But as soon as he entered the living room, a sharp voice cut through the air.
“It’s been only a few days, and you’ve already forgotten your manners!”
Adrian looked up to see Ella’s mother, Mrs. Sterling, glaring at him with icy disdain. His heart sank. The Sterlings were obsessed with propriety, and Mrs. Sterling was particularly vicious. She had never approved of him, her future son-in-law. Every time he visited, she found some new excuse to punish him, all under the guise of “teaching him the rules.”
As expected, she immediately found fault. “Look at you! And how dare you walk ahead of Ella?”
Adrian’s hands, hanging by his sides, clenched into fists.
In his past life, to keep the peace and spare Ella any trouble, he had tolerated Mrs. Sterling’s every cruelty. No matter how insulting her words, he endured them. No matter how many ridiculous rules she imposed, he obeyed them.
But he was done tolerating. After all, he wasn’t her son-in-law anymore.
He ignored her and turned to head upstairs.
“Have you no respect? Did you not hear me speaking to you!” Mrs. Sterling slammed her hand on the table. “Someone, bring the tea! He needs to be taught a lesson!”
When Ella and Leo entered, they saw the maids forcing Adrian to his knees. Ella took one look and knew her mother was displeased with him. She said nothing, simply guiding Leo to a seat on the sofa.
The sight sent a chill through Adrian’s heart. Past life or this one, she would never stand up for him.
Scalding hot tea was poured into the cup he was forced to hold with both hands. It quickly overflowed, cascading over the rim and onto his skin. The pale flesh instantly turned an angry, blotchy red, blisters already beginning to form. A searing pain shot through him, and he instinctively tried to drop the cup. But a maid’s hand held his own in a vise-like grip.
“Ah!”
A pained cry—but it came from Leo.
“That’s horrifying!”
Mrs. Sterling’s expression changed instantly, her voice filled with concern. “What are you waiting for? Get Leo out of here! Do you want to frighten him?”
Ella immediately covered Leo’s eyes and led him out, cooing softly, “It’s alright, don’t be scared. Mother is just teaching him some manners. It has nothing to do with you.”
Only when the teapot was empty did the maid release Adrian’s hands.
CRASH!
The teacup slipped from his grasp and shattered on the floor.
Mrs. Sterling didn’t even spare him a glance as she stood up and walked away. Adrian looked at his scalded hands and gave a bitter smile.
By the time he had treated his burns and made his way to the dining room, Ella, Leo, and Mrs. Sterling were already well into their meal. Mrs. Sterling was lovingly placing food on Leo’s plate, urging him to eat more.
Leo nodded happily.
Mrs. Sterling watched him with adoration. “If only you were my son-in-law,” she sighed.
The words hung in the air, and everyone’s expression shifted.
Ella finally spoke, her voice low and firm. “Mother, Adrian is still here.”
But Mrs. Sterling paid her no mind, shooting a dismissive glare at Adrian, who stood silently by the wall. If Ella’s affection for Leo was a subtle, hidden current, Mrs. Sterling’s was a roaring, public declaration. She had said it countless times: she wished Leo were her son-in-law. If Ella hadn’t insisted on marrying Adrian, Mrs. Sterling would have had her wish long ago.
For a fleeting moment, Adrian was tempted to tell her the truth—that Leo was now her son-in-law. But before he could speak, Mrs. Sterling’s cold voice cut him off.
“What are you standing there for? Get over here and serve us!”
Yes, serving the food. Another one of Mrs. Sterling’s “rules” for him. At every meal, he was expected to stand by and peel shrimp, debone fish, and attend to their every need. By the time he was allowed to eat, only scraps and cold leftovers remained.
Adrian glanced at Leo, who was looking at him with a triumphant smirk. “Perhaps my brother should learn as well?” he suggested suddenly. After all, this time, it was Leo marrying into the Sterling family.
The smile froze on Leo’s face.
“He will never have to learn these things,” Ella said coolly, placing a peeled shrimp into Leo’s bowl.
Adrian lowered his gaze, hiding the irony in his eyes. You’re wrong, Ella. In seven days, he will be your groom.
After dinner, Leo started glancing at his phone incessantly. Ella leaned in, her voice a soft murmur of concern.
“I almost forgot, I have concert tickets. But if I leave now, will your mother be upset?”
“It’s fine, I’ll go with you,” Ella whispered back. She then stood up and addressed her mother. “Mom, I have some urgent work to take care of at the office. We have to go.”
Mrs. Sterling, suspecting nothing, waved them off. Ella shot Leo a look, and he quickly stood up to say his goodbyes. In a moment, they were gone.
Only Adrian, who had heard everything, was left with a hollow feeling of self-mockery. He had spent a lifetime with her, and all he ever heard about was her work. He never knew she went to concerts. He never knew she would lie to her own mother for Leo.
It seemed her life as a Sterling daughter-in-law would go quite smoothly after all.
With Ella gone, Adrian had no reason to stay. He turned and walked out, ignoring Mrs. Sterling’s angry shouts and the sound of another teacup shattering behind him.
Mrs. Sterling despised him, so there was no car to take him home. Ella, of course, wouldn’t be coming for him. The mansion was in an exclusive, secluded area where cabs were nonexistent. So, Adrian walked.
It took him three hours to get back. His heels were raw and blistered. He treated his own wounds and fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.
Ella and Leo didn’t return until the next day. Leo was still wearing a light-up headband from the concert, his face beaming with joy. Ella walked over to Adrian and placed several different invitation samples on the table in front of him.
“See if there’s a style you like.”
Adrian didn’t answer. He randomly pointed to one and looked at Leo. “Do you like this one?”
Leo, confused but obliging, nodded. “Yeah, it’s nice.”
Adrian grunted his approval, pulled that invitation out, and handed it to Ella. “This one, then.”
Ella didn’t take it. Her eyes narrowed, her gaze hardening. Why? Why does he always ask Leo? The suit, the ring, the shoes, the venue, and now even the invitations. He consulted Leo on everything.
It was as if Leo were the groom, and Adrian was simply preparing to step aside.
The thought had no sooner formed than she dismissed it. Adrian loved her too much. He would never hand her over to someone else.
Once the invitation style was settled, Adrian volunteered to write them all out himself. His reason was sound enough. “It’s a once-in-a-lifetime wedding. The invitations should be handwritten to be meaningful.”
“There are over three thousand of them. Are you sure?” Ella felt she was understanding his bizarre behavior less and less.
“I’m sure.”
That night, Adrian sat at his desk, meticulously writing out the invitations. The main text was already printed. All he had to do was fill in the guest’s name, and the names of the bride and groom.
His focus was absolute. Stroke by stroke, in the “Bride” section, he wrote: Ella Sterling.
And then, in the “Groom” section, he wrote: Leo Hawthorne.
In his past life, he had done the exact same thing, his heart filled with hopeful dreams of a happy future with Ella. But that marriage had brought him nothing but a lifetime of bitterness. Ella spent most of her time with Leo. A single phone call from his brother, and she would drop everything and leave him without a second thought. Even at home, she was constantly on the phone with him. He had fought with her, argued with her, but her only defense was always the same hollow excuse: “I only see him as a brother.”
He never understood why she married him if she didn’t love him. Not until he was on his deathbed and read that letter.
The regrets and sorrows of his past life were finally being severed by his own hand.
Three days before the wedding, Adrian and Ella were on a private yacht for the final rehearsal. Usually, it was just the two of them. This time, Adrian insisted on bringing Leo along.
After the rehearsal, Adrian went out on deck to feel the sea breeze. The weather was gloomy, the ocean a dark, churning gray. He disliked it. As he was about to head back inside, Leo’s voice came from behind him.
“Adrian, what the hell have you been playing at lately? Why did you even drag me to the wedding rehearsal? Aren’t you afraid I’ll steal your bride?”
A wry smile touched Adrian’s lips. “Why would you need to steal her? She’s already yours.”
Leo’s confusion turned to anger. He grabbed Adrian’s arm, demanding an explanation. Adrian scowled and tried to pull away. Just then, the weather took a violent turn. A furious gust of wind slammed a monstrous wave against the yacht.
Thrown off balance, they stumbled in their struggle.
And together, they plunged into the sea.
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On the day the Crown Prince exposed me as a woman before the entire royal court, I fell from the most revered Royal Tutor in the kingdom to the lowest of royal harlots. The System declared my mission an utter failure.
I’d had four targets. Each was a man of immense power and prestige, yet each came to despise me, to hate me to the bone, all because of my stepsister.
Fortunately, the System offered a reprieve: if I could bear the child of any of my four targets, I would be spared the punishment of annihilation. So, I cast aside my pride. I schemed and seduced. And on the final day of my deadline, I was with child.
But as I lay in labor, all four of them hunted me down.
The Prince, my former student, bound my hands and feet. The Master Healer, my own brother, forced a labor-inducing potion down my throat. The Lord Marshal, my childhood love, sliced open my belly with his longsword. And the Lord Chancellor, my husband, personally carved the heart from my newborn’s chest—all to use my child’s heart’s blood as a cure for my stepsister.
And later, as they gazed upon my cold, stiffening corpse, these men who had wished for my death… they shattered.
…
I sat on a rough wooden cot in a dirt-floored hovel, stitching a tiny garment for my unborn child, when the door was kicked open. Crown Prince Kaelen strode in. His eyes fell upon my swollen belly, and his face became a mask of thunder.
“Lady Seraphina,” he spat, the title a mockery. “You truly are with child? Whose is it?”
I looked up at him. The timid boy who once hid behind my skirts, weeping, was gone. In his place stood an ungrateful viper I had raised myself. I set down my needle and thread, my face a placid lake. “Your Highness, Seraphina is no longer the Royal Tutor. I am a common whore. Whose child do you imagine I would carry? Another man’s whelp may be disloyal, but this child, no matter the father, will know only its mother.”
One of my words must have struck a nerve, because Kaelen’s face flushed a deep, furious crimson. “Filth! This bastard cannot be allowed to live!”
I wrapped my arms protectively around my stomach, my eyes fixed on him.
Kaelen’s mother had died in the venomous games of court politics. He’d had his tendons cut and was left to die in the castle’s forgotten dungeons. All who passed by averted their eyes. Only I had stopped.
I carried him back to my small quarters. I sought healers, spent every last System point I had to mend his broken body. I taught him to read, to wield a sword, even disguised myself as a man to enter the court and fight for him. I poured half my life into him, lifting him step by step to the position of Crown Prince.
I remember the day he was named heir. We celebrated in his new palace apartments, his young eyes glittering like a constellation. “Sera,” he had said, his voice full of earnest devotion, “when I am king, I will change the laws. Women will be allowed to serve in the court, and you will never have to hide who you are again.”
And yet, it was this same Kaelen who, before the entire assembly, ripped the official robes from my body and denounced me as a woman, a blight upon the kingdom. “You venomous snake, Seraphina!” he had roared. “My sweet Vivia is a paragon of kindness, yet you schemed to have her virtue stolen! How dare you stand in a position of power, enjoying wealth and glory? You will suffer a hundred times what she has endured!”
My identity was exposed, and I was cast into a royal pleasure house. The System judged my final mission a failure. But it amended the task: if I could give birth to this child, this life connected to me by blood, my slate with these men would be wiped clean.
Kaelen clearly saw me and my child as a stain. “Rest assured, Your Highness,” I said quickly, “once the child is born, I will take him far away. We will never trouble your sight again.”
His expression only grew fouler. He suddenly lunged, using a restraining technique I myself had taught him, pinning me to the cot. He ordered his guards to bring rope, and he bound my hands and feet himself. My body, heavy with child, was slow and clumsy. I was helpless.
“Kaelen, you treacherous dog!” I screamed, my voice cracking with fury. “You betray your own mentor, your own master!”
He sneered. “Vivia is ill, Seraphina. She requires the heart’s blood of your unborn child to be cured. It’s just a bastard, after all. To die saving Vivia is a worthy end for it.”
My eyes widened in horror. I shook my head frantically. Without this child, the System would erase me. I would truly die.
Just then, another figure appeared in the doorway, both familiar and terrifyingly strange. It was the man I considered my dearest kin in this world: my brother, the Master Healer Theron.
Forgetting everything else, I stared at him, my eyes pleading. “Brother… save me…”
In my original world, I was an orphan, my body ravaged by illness. I had never known the warmth of family. On my deathbed, the System found me and offered me a new life, transmigrated into this body from birth.
It gave me four targets: a brother connected by blood, a childhood love, a passionate suitor, and a student I would raise myself. If I could win the absolute favor of just one, I would be granted health and a true life. I had been bedridden for so long; I cherished this chance, and I cherished these new bonds.
But every single one of them had fallen for the lies of this world’s protagonist, my stepsister, Vivia. They all believed I was a venomous witch.
My brother had cast me out. My betrothed had broken our engagement. My lover had severed all ties. My student had thrown me into the abyss.
All my missions failed. Even the System took pity on me, using its own accumulated points to change my final task. Just give birth to this child, and you can live.
Now, to save my child, to save myself, I had to gamble on the last vestiges of Theron’s love for me.
But he only stared coldly at my struggles, ignoring my desperate plea. He turned to Kaelen. “Your Highness, there is no time. Vivia is fading. We don’t need to drag her back. We’ll do it here.”
I stared in disbelief.
He was my first target. But my longing for a family was so deep, I never saw him as just a mission. I nurtured our sibling bond with all my heart, giving him everything, even risking my own life for him time and again.
When Theron studied the forbidden arts of healing, I used my System points to gift him knowledge from my modern world: Caesarean sections, cranial surgery, things this world considered blasphemy. No one believed in his abilities. So I became his test subject, his guinea pig, helping him build a reputation as the realm’s peerless Master Healer.
Once, he miscalculated a dosage, and I suffered a violent allergic reaction. Terrified, he knelt in the family chapel for days, praying, swearing he would renounce his arts if it would grant my safety. He wanted to be a healer, yes, but he swore his sister was the most important thing to him. I used my own points to save myself and salvage his reputation.
I had thought I finally had a home, a brother.
But that seemingly unbreakable bond crumbled under Vivia’s relentless machinations. She staged her own abduction, crying that I was the one who had orchestrated it. Theron, holding the feigning Vivia, called me a viper and cast me, still a young girl, out of our home.
Now, watching him expertly brew the potion and sterilize his blades, a chilling despair washed over me.
“Brother, Vivia being abducted and losing her purity had nothing to do with me! She isn’t sick! Please, let me go! Let my child live! He is your nephew!”
Theron’s hand paused. His gaze was devoid of any emotion. “Empty words. Do you think I would believe you? Vivia is good and kind. Would she sacrifice her own virtue and health just to frame her sister? The assault left her with a deep-seated malady, one that can only be cured by the heart’s blood of an infant born from a close blood relative. It’s the life of a worthless bastard. This is a debt you owe her!”
He forced the entire potion down my throat. A searing pain ripped through my abdomen. The child inside me kicked violently.
Kaelen held my limbs fast. I could only writhe, trying to knock Theron’s sterilized instruments into the dirt on the floor with my head.
Theron slapped me across the face, hard. Blood trickled from the corner of my mouth. “What do you think you’re doing?”
I knew he was a meticulous healer; his tools had to be perfectly sterile. But I was out of options. If they cut the baby out, I was dead. I had to delay, to buy even a second more of life for me and my child.
Seeing my resistance, Theron had Kaelen hold me down while he prepared a new set of instruments.
“No!” I screamed, my voice raw with desperation. “I’ll die without my child!”
This time, Theron didn’t hesitate. He let out a cold laugh. “Are you questioning the skill of the realm’s Master Healer? Relax. I’m just taking the child and stitching you back up. My hand is swift. A scourge like you won’t die so easily.”
Suddenly, a commotion erupted outside. The youngest Lord Marshal in the kingdom’s history, Rhys, burst in, covered in dust from the road, his sword in hand.
“Am I too late?”
My despairing heart flickered with a new flame of hope.
Rhys was my second target. We grew up together, inseparable, our bond deeper than any other. His family was a fallen line of knights, and Rhys himself had no talent for the blade. My heart ached for him, so I used my points to unleash his dormant martial potential.
I trained with him for years, sparring with sword and staff. I encouraged him when he wanted to give up, and I watched over him silently from horseback when he tasted his first victories.
He would lean against my back, watching the moon. “Sera, you’re so good to me. When I return a Lord Marshal, you will be my lady. Imagine how grand that will be!”
“Sera, where do you want to live? We could go to the northern plains, or the western frontier. I’ll let the sun darken your skin, so no one else will try to steal you from me.”
I had believed, truly believed, that when he returned from war, I would be his wife.
But when he returned, perched on his warhorse was not me, but my stepsister Vivia, covered in blood.
Rhys had grabbed me by the throat, his voice a furious whisper. “Why? Why would you harm Vivia? She’s not like you; she’s a delicate flower! How could someone so wicked ever be my wife? Seraphina, our engagement is void!”
Cast out by my brother, then rejected by my fiancé, I became the capital’s greatest joke.
Years had passed. The boyish charm was gone, replaced by the chilling aura of a seasoned killer.
Theron waved a hand. “You’re not too late. She dirtied my blade. We haven’t started.”
Rhys’s handsome brows furrowed. “What are you waiting for? Vivia can’t hold on much longer. Do you want her to die?”
Before I could react, Rhys raised his sword—the very blade I had commissioned for him from a master smith—and sliced through my clothes. Then, with a single, brutal stroke, he cut open my belly.
A geyser of blood erupted. A raw, guttural cry tore from my throat as tears streamed down my face. “No!”
Theron quickly extracted the baby. I saw him—a full-term boy, small and wrinkled, but alive. He let out a wail, a powerful testament to his vibrant life.
Forgetting the searing pain as Theron began to stitch my wound, I tried to snatch my child back. “Don’t hurt my baby! Do you even know who his father is? He would never allow this!”
A soft chuckle came from the doorway. The Lord Chancellor, Alistair, stepped inside. “Still so cunning, Lady Seraphina. What new tale are you spinning to deceive us? It doesn’t matter who the father is. Having a mother like you is his greatest sin.”
Alistair was my third target.
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I flash-married the brilliant, aloof professor I’ve known since we were kids.
She practically lives in her lab, never coming home.
So when the end-of-term faculty reviews came around, I decided to get some petty revenge. Anonymously, of course.
【Don’t be fooled by that slim waist and killer body. She’s totally frigid.】
【Seriously. The girl at the flower shop downstairs has more warmth.】
Except my cover got blown.
That very night, she cornered me in the bathroom. “Frigid, am I?”
“Louise, baby, I was wrong…”
1
As the semester drew to a close, Blackwood University launched its new faculty review platform. It was open to everyone, and you could post anonymously.
【OMG, Professor Reed, I LOVE YOU!】
【So gorgeous, and that body… when she wore glasses last week, I died! A total goddess!】
【I’m single, she’s single. Aren’t we a match made in heaven?】
Within an hour of going live, the platform was flooded with over a thousand comments for her. Dr. Louise Reed’s popularity shot straight to number one.
I was huddled under my covers, scrolling through my phone, the screen casting a sickly green glow over my face. I could feel the jealousy churning in my gut.
A soft sound came from outside my room. Louise must be home.
This late again!
Is quantum mechanics really that much more interesting than her own husband?
Fuming, I tapped out two comments of my own:
【Don’t be fooled by that slim waist and killer body. She’s totally frigid.】
【Seriously. The girl at the flower shop downstairs has more warmth.】
Just then, the door to my room opened with a faint click.
I slammed my phone shut, squeezed my eyes closed, and pretended to be asleep.
The intruder seemed to stand by my bed for a long moment, the silence thick with unspoken words. Then, just as quietly, the door clicked shut again.
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.
Strange.
Does she check on me like this every night after I’ve fallen asleep?
2
My name is Leo Wallace, an associate professor at Blackwood University.
A month ago, I got flash-married.
My bride was Louise Reed, a woman I’ve known for over twenty years. She’s been the brilliant, intimidating shadow hanging over my entire life.
A child prodigy who skipped grades, won national science competitions, and got a full scholarship to MIT before I was even out of middle school. By the time I was slogging through high school, she was already in a combined PhD program. She was the first person I’d ever met who’d done their undergrad, master’s, and PhD all at the same elite institution.
Our marriage was sealed over a single dinner between our two families. My parents were over the moon about getting such an exceptional daughter-in-law. By all accounts, I was the one who’d lucked out.
The strangest part? Louise actually agreed.
But she had conditions.
As our parents hammered out the details, Louise lifted her cool, indifferent eyes and gave me a clinical once-over. I’d been sneaking glances at her, and our eyes met for a split second. My heart leaped into my throat, and I straightened my back instinctively.
“Fine,” she said, her voice even. “But no wedding for now. And… we keep it private.”
A flicker of joy ignited in me when she said yes, only to be immediately extinguished by her terms. It sank to the pit of my stomach.
If you despise me so much, why even agree to this?
I shot her a confused look, but our eyes collided again. I quickly looked away, a fresh wave of panic washing over me. What if she mistook my confusion for displeasure and called the whole thing off?
I felt like a thief, stealing the title of ‘husband’ first. I’d figure out the rest later.
Because the pathetic truth was, I was hopelessly in love with her.
3
Everyone at Blackwood University knew that Louise Reed and I did not get along.
To put it mildly, we were academic rivals of the highest order.
Her domain was theoretical physics; mine was experimental. She was a full professor; I was still an associate. With her razor-sharp tongue, she could eviscerate my field of research, making it sound like I did nothing but trudge along behind her, mindlessly verifying her brilliant theories.
“You’ll always just be following in my footsteps.”
That was her assessment of my academic career. It felt more like a verdict on my entire life.
And yet, after every bitter argument, a few days would pass, I’d see her face, and completely forget what we were even fighting about. I’d trail after her like a whipped puppy, only to get drawn into another debate I couldn’t win, leaving me seething with impotent rage.
The department head, fearing we’d eventually come to blows, had strategically placed our offices at opposite ends of the hallway, separated by an entire staircase. If it weren’t for the occasional faculty meeting, we’d never have to see each other.
I just never imagined that after moving into our new home, we’d see each other even less.
The house, conveniently located near campus, was a wedding gift from our families, fully furnished and ready. We moved in together.
In the master bedroom, the bed was made up with a ridiculously ornate red satin bedding set, the kind embroidered with swans or something equally cliché. It was so gaudy it made my ears burn. I stared at the matching slippers on the floor, avoiding her gaze.
Then, Louise’s calm voice cut through the silence.
“I’ll take the master. You can have any of the other rooms.”
My heart plummeted.
“We’re married,” I muttered under my breath, my voice laced with disappointment. “What are you so afraid of? That I’m going to do something to you?”
“What was that?” Louise asked, not having caught my words.
“Nothing,” I said, my tone dripping with sarcasm. “Just said it’s a good thing this house has so many rooms, or we’d be in real trouble.”
She was silent for a half-second before her voice came out, low and tight.
“Leo, back at that dinner, when our parents were deciding everything… you never said a word. So, what was your stance? Were you for it, or against it?”
My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat I was sure she could hear. I shot a panicked glance at her, terrified she’d sense my turmoil.
After a long pause, I managed to say, “In that situation… did it look like I had any say in the matter?” I couldn’t meet her eyes, the lie tasting like ash in my mouth.
I heard her jaw tighten. “Fine.”
With that, she pushed open the master bedroom door, and it slammed shut with a deafening bang.
Leaving me standing alone on the other side.
Was she… angry?
4
I chose the bedroom right next to the master suite.
In the month since we’d gotten our marriage license, the only time I’d seen Louise was the day we moved in. We saw each other less now than we did before we were married.
My mornings started after she’d already left for the university. During the day, we were like two warring kings in the same castle, never crossing paths. And at night, she’d be holed up in her lab, wrestling with the mysteries of quantum mechanics.
By the time she came home, I’d long since been asleep.
She was a ghost in our own home, and I was too stubborn to reach out. It was a silent, childish standoff—no contact, no communication.
Honestly, the cute, bubbly girl who worked at the flower shop downstairs gave me more emotional fulfillment than my own wife.
At least her flowers were genuinely beautiful.
5
My internal clock woke me at seven a.m. sharp. As expected, Louise’s room was empty.
On my way to campus, I couldn’t shake the feeling that people were staring at me. I’d catch them out of the corner of my eye, their gazes lingering a moment too long. It was unnerving.
I turned to look, and a group of students—they looked like physics majors—quickly ducked their heads, whispering and snickering as they scurried away.
The strange looks continued all the way to my lab. My colleagues were grinning at me, a mischievous glint in their eyes.
Professor Miller from the lab next door came over, clutching his thermos. “Leo, my boy, you’ve really done it this time!” he said, a wide smile splitting his face.
“Well, you know,” I said, puffing out my chest. I’d just had a paper published in a major journal, and the impact factor was something to be proud of.
Miller chuckled. “You should have seen the look on Professor Reed’s face when she came in this morning. It was black as thunder.”
“What? She was jealous?” I was floored. Louise was the queen of publications; you could probably wallpaper the physics building with her papers. Why would she be jealous of me?
Miller adjusted his glasses. “She’s a competitive woman, you know that. Especially when it comes to you!”
I started to wonder if my paper contained some groundbreaking discovery I’d overlooked, something that had truly rattled her.
He clapped me on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. If she tries to hurt you, I’ll call the cops for you.”
“Huh? It won’t come to that, will it?” I was dumbfounded. Even at the height of our worst arguments, Louise had never laid a hand on me.
He nodded gravely. “Of course! You called her frigid and said she’s worse than the girl from the flower shop. How could she not take that as a declaration of war?”
“Ah.”
A cold, dawning horror washed over me. I’d made a terrible, terrible mistake.
I fumbled for my phone and pulled up the review platform.
There, on the crisp white screen, in bold black letters where the anonymous username should have been, it said: 【Leo Wallace】.
6
I grabbed my bag.
I shot a quick text to my TA, telling him to cover my undergraduate lecture.
Clutching my belongings, I made a break for the stairwell at my end of the hall.
I couldn’t believe it. How could I have made such a stupid mistake? Forgetting to post anonymously when I was trash-talking Louise?
I deserved whatever was coming to me.
The stairwell was dim, the motion-sensor lights notoriously unreliable, plunging me into near-total darkness. I was staring down at my phone, not watching where I was going, when my foot missed a step. I pitched forward, hurtling into the blackness.
I collided with someone who was coming up around the landing.
The impact was surprisingly soft. They smelled incredible.
Even in that brief, chaotic moment, I could tell they were in amazing shape.
There was a hint of familiarity to them, too.
We have someone this hot in our department?
“Sorry about that! Thanks!” I said, steadying myself.
But instead of letting go, the person grabbed my arm and pressed me against the wall. The force wasn’t rough, but it was so unexpected that I stumbled back, my body flush against the cool concrete.
As their face drew closer, my eyes adjusted to the gloom.
My brain short-circuited. Every alarm bell in my head started screaming.
It was Louise.
Her eyes were blazing with fury, her voice a low, dangerous purr. “Leo. Have I been too lenient with you?”
“Lenient? No, not at all!” I said, playing dumb.
“What’s this about you and the flower shop girl?” she asked, her voice tight with anger.
Wait, that’s what she’s focused on?
A tiny, hopeful spark ignited in the darkness of my panic.
I looked up at her, my heart starting to race with a different kind of emotion.
“Louise? Where are you?”
A smooth, deep male voice echoed up from the bottom of the stairwell.
My heart gave a painful lurch. I followed the sound and saw a tall, slender man with a refined, artistic air making his way slowly up the stairs, leaning heavily on the railing.
It was Nathan Vance.
The moment he saw us, Louise shoved me away.
It was a frantic, reflexive movement, as if she were flinging away something dirty she’d accidentally touched.
She pushed me.
My back only brushed lightly against the wall, but a sharp pain shot through my entire body.
What was she so afraid of?
7
As Nathan reached our landing, the faint light caught our faces.
He was using a single crutch. His eyes flickered over my face for a second before a charming smile spread across his lips.
“Louise, darling, don’t be angry. Leo was just teasing you. You know how easily he gets flustered.”
Louise’s gaze never left Nathan’s face.
Nathan Vance was a dance instructor in the arts department, a rising star in the dance world. He had to have heard about my disastrous comment on the review platform. This was a private matter between my wife and me, yet here he was, swooping in to defend me as if he were her closest confidant.
Were we even that close?
I stared at Louise, waiting for her reaction.
“Hmph. I can’t be bothered,” she said, her voice low.
She went along with Nathan’s excuse, and with her words, my heart sank a little deeper.
Louise shot me a sideways glance, her voice laced with a faint, dismissive smile.
“So childish.”
My throat felt raw. I changed the subject. “Nathan, what happened to your leg?”
“Sprained my ankle during rehearsal,” he said, his handsome brow furrowed in a mask of stoic pain. “Still hurts a bit.”
Louise’s own brow furrowed in concern. “I told you to wait for me downstairs. Why did you come up?”
“Oh, Louise,” Nathan said with a gentle smile. “I was hoping I could rest in your office for a bit.”
I rolled my eyes so hard I’m surprised they didn’t get stuck.
He managed to climb three flights of stairs on that “sprained” ankle? Give it five more minutes and he’d be miraculously healed.
“Alright, come on then,” Louise sighed, her voice softening with resignation. “Do you want some coffee?”
She didn’t spare me another glance. She just turned and helped Nathan the rest of the way up the stairs, heading toward her office.
The sight of them, him leaning on her, her supporting him, was like a perfectly composed photograph.
Nathan, the sophisticated, mature artist.
And me? The childish fool.
Clearly, I was no match for her composure.
8
Nathan, Louise, and I had all known each other since we were kids.
His father was a minor shareholder on the board of her family’s corporation. But Louise’s grandfather had always been fond of Nathan, viewing him as a potential grandson-in-law. So, Nathan’s parents raised him with the specific goal of one day marrying into Louise’s family.
The two of them had always been closer.
While my parents were using Louise as the golden standard to push me through a grueling gauntlet of cram schools, competitions, and exams that left me breathless, Nathan was learning piano, ballet, and calligraphy.
He cultivated an air of refined elegance, an artist to his core. And he was genuinely talented, winning international awards for his solo dance choreographies and amassing a legion of online fans.
He’d always positioned himself as Louise’s closest male friend, her platonic soulmate.
He probably had no idea that I had intercepted his grand prize.
I used to envy his life.
Louise was always gentle and kind to Nathan. But the moment she saw me, her brow would furrow, and she’d find a million things to criticize.
Marrying me must have been a huge sacrifice for her.
9
Right before my last class of the day, a message from Louise lit up my phone:
【We’re talking tonight. You’re going to explain to me exactly what you mean by ‘frigid’.】
My hand trembled, and the phone nearly flew out of my grasp.
What do I do? How can I possibly go home now? I’d be walking into a death trap.
I spent the last few minutes of my lecture in a daze, barely aware of the words coming out of my mouth.
Terrified, I accepted an invitation to a small get-together with a few colleagues from the physics department. My plan was to use it as an excuse to get home late. Maybe with a little liquid courage, I’d be brave enough to face her.
I never, ever expected to see Louise at the same gathering.
Professor Miller had invited me. Someone else had invited her. Clearly, they hadn’t coordinated.
The moment we locked eyes across the private room of the Japanese restaurant, the air crackled with a palpable, suffocating awkwardness. Our colleagues looked like they wanted to bolt.
I grabbed Professor Miller’s arm, hissing, “You didn’t tell me she was coming!”
“It’s all Professor Thorne’s fault!” he whimpered, his face a mask of despair.
When we sat down, I made sure to take the seat furthest from Louise.
One of our colleagues, trying to break the tension, asked with a laugh, “Professor Reed, you never come to these things. What brings you out tonight?”
Louise flashed a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Just felt like joining the fun.”
Her gaze, sharp and meaningful, landed directly on me.
“After all,” she continued, drawing out each word, “it’s not like there’s anyone waiting at home.”
I coughed, pretending I hadn’t seen her pointed stare.
Everyone tacitly avoided the topic of our rivalry. But after a few rounds of drinks, things inevitably got messy.
Dinner wound down, and the group decided to move on to a karaoke bar for round two.
I raised my hand, announcing I was ready to head home. To my horror, Louise spoke up at the same time. “I’m a bit tired, too.”
I panicked. Her next words would be “I’m going home too,” and that would be it. Here, surrounded by people, a direct confrontation was unlikely. But at home, just the two of us? I didn’t stand a chance.
“On second thought,” I said quickly, “I think I’ll hang out with you guys a little longer.”
Our colleagues howled their off-key songs while Louise and I occupied opposite ends of the long sofa, a silent buffer of people between us.
After an hour of terrible singing, the novelty wore off, and someone suggested a game of Truth or Dare. A group of middle-aged professors roared with excitement around an empty beer bottle.
The bottle spun, slowing to a stop, its neck pointing directly at Louise.
Before anyone could even ask, she said, “Truth.”
Professor Thorne thought for a moment. “Professor Reed, do you have a boyfriend?”
A wave of knowing smiles passed through our colleagues. They all knew that Louise, the untouchable ice queen of the department, kept everyone at arm’s length—except for Nathan Vance from the arts department. The entire campus assumed they were in a “will-they-won’t-they” romance.
Louise looked up, her eyes shining in the dim, colorful lights of the karaoke room. A small, genuine smile touched her lips, as if sparked by a happy memory.
She parted her lips and said, “No. But there is a guy I have a crush on.”
A chorus of whoops and hollers erupted. Someone was on the verge of shouting Nathan’s name.
Beside me, Professor Miller whispered excitedly, “I knew it! My ship is sailing!”
I forced a smile that felt more like a grimace.
So that’s what it looked like when she smiled for real. It was because she was thinking of Nathan.
And what did that make me?
10
Even though the bottle never landed on me, I drank anyway, matching every “dare” and “truth” with another glass of beer.
One by one, the beers went down, until the world blurred and I could no longer make out Louise’s face across the room.
Good. If I couldn’t see her, I couldn’t be tormented by her.
But why, even in my drunken haze, did her face still haunt my dreams?
By the end of the night, I was completely gone, my soul having ascended to another plane. I have no memory of how I got home.
Through a thick fog, I heard Louise’s voice, flat and detached. “I live near him. I’ll take him home.”
Someone else said something I couldn’t catch.
A cold laugh. “Don’t worry, I’m not that petty. He’ll live.”
…
Later, I felt a warm, damp cloth wiping my face. The sensation brought me back to a sliver of consciousness. I cracked my eyes open.
In the soft, golden glow of the lamp, Louise’s beautiful, delicate features were softened, making her look breathtakingly gentle.
She looked exactly like the Louise from my dreams.
See? I thought. She’s so much nicer in dreams.
My hand moved on its own, reaching up to stroke her cheek. “Who’s better looking,” I slurred, “me or Nathan?”
Louise arched an eyebrow. “What a ridiculous question.”
“You like him that much, huh?”
She fell silent for a moment, then asked in a low voice, “Who told you that?”
She was afraid. Afraid I knew about them and would tell her parents.
Bolstered by alcohol, a surge of recklessness washed over me. “Give me a kiss,” I demanded, “and I won’t tell your mom and dad.”
Under the soft lamplight, her expression was so unnervingly calm it made me want to run.
The booze had ignited a fire in me. I pushed myself up, grabbed the back of her head with both hands, and pulled her down, tilting my own head up to meet her lips.
The instant my lips brushed against hers, a powerful force shoved me backward.
I landed hard on the bed, the mattress bouncing beneath me.
The ceiling fan spun wildly above me, and a wave of nausea rose in my throat.
Louise’s voice, flat and laced with disgust, cut through the haze.
“Leo, do you have any idea what you’re doing?”
A volatile mix of ice and fire churned in my chest.
My brain stalled for a half-second before I scrambled off the bed and lurched toward the bathroom, collapsing in front of the toilet and retching violently.
The bitter, acidic bile burned my throat. My stomach cramped painfully. My eyes were red, my face streaked with tears.
Perfect. Now she wouldn’t know that the tears weren’t just from being sick.
I heard footsteps approach. A warm hand gently rubbed my back. It was Louise.
I wanted to ask her if this was how she took care of Nathan when he was drunk.
But I had no strength left to speak. I slumped to the floor and passed out.
In that final moment before darkness took me, a single, lucid thought fought its way through the fog.
In that split second, I finally understood why I was in so much pain.
It wasn’t just the hangover.
It was because I was completely, hopelessly in love with Louise.
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At the Quantum Solutions’ annual showcase, I planned to finally go public with the CEO—my girlfriend, Annalise.
But just as I was about to make my move, a man stood up from the audience. Her long-lost first love. His voice, dripping with arrogance, cut through the expectant silence. “Anna, I can finally stand by your side, out in the open.”
Annalise offered me no explanation. Instead, a smile bloomed on her face as she wrapped him in an embrace. She turned to the crowd, her voice bright. “This is Hawthorne Croft. He will be joining us as the Chief Scientist for our new quantum computer project.”
The hall erupted in thunderous applause, a sea of faces celebrating the reunion of two perfect souls.
Annalise caught my stony expression and shot me a warning glare. “Ethan, wipe that look off your face. You have a problem with this?”
I gave a slow, deliberate nod. Then, in front of everyone, I walked to the edge of the stage and dropped the brand-new Chief Scientist ID badge into the trash can.
1
“Of course I have a problem,” I said, my voice ringing with a calm I didn’t feel. “Since Professor Croft is so brilliant, why don’t you just get married right here, today? Give everyone a real reason to celebrate.”
A collective gasp rippled through my colleagues. They were stunned. After all, I had poured every ounce of my being into the quantum computer project, a crucible that had nearly broken my health.
But the shock quickly melted into understanding. Thumbs-up were discreetly aimed my way, whispers of “Good for you” and “So much class” reaching my ears. They understood my magnanimity.
Only Annalise, on stage, seemed to see the truth. Her gaze could have frozen hell over.
I couldn’t be bothered to dignify it with a response. She despised office romances, a convenient excuse to keep our five-year marriage a complete secret. Every time I begged to go public, she’d preach about setting an example as CEO. She promised we’d tell the world once the quantum computer was a success.
And now, she had handed my success, my life’s work, to him. As the crowd showered Hawthorne with admiration—admiration that should have been mine—Annalise’s patience finally snapped.
“Ethan, what is this childish tantrum about?”
A bitter smile touched my lips. “I’d rather miss a thousand chances than betray a single person.” My loyalty had been my creed. And it had been repaid with this. I said nothing more, turning my back on the stage and walking away.
That project was my blood and sweat. I had leveraged every contact, every friendship, to crack the core quantum problem in a record three years. I had collapsed from exhaustion in the lab more times than I could count, all to build the pedestal she now stood upon.
But the love I had for her had turned to ash. I would not be the architect of another man’s triumph. The project was nearly complete, but a “paper-pusher” academic like Hawthorne? He could have another five years and he’d still be lost in my code.
Down in the parking garage, I swung my leg over the cheap electric scooter Annalise had so “graciously” bought me. A humorless laugh escaped my lips. For five years, she held the purse strings. Every time I asked about buying a car, she shot me down. “The company has cars, Ethan. Why waste the money? Must you always be so concerned with keeping up appearances?”
Yet in five years of marriage, citing “professionalism,” she never once let me ride in her car. I had accepted it, believing she was just being frugal for the company’s sake. It wasn’t until Hawthorne arrived back in the country and she immediately assigned him a Porsche that the truth hit me.
It was never about appearances. It was about me.
My heart was a dead weight in my chest. As I was about to leave, a brand-new, gleaming Porsche blocked my path. Hawthorne rolled down the window, his face a mask of contempt.
“Ethan, look at you. Pathetic. Did you really think Anna would ever acknowledge a loser like you? Hilarious.” He sneered. “Thank God she announced it was me today. Imagine the entire tech world laughing if it had been you.”
It was his classic move: provoke me, then play the victim to drive a wedge between Annalise and me. So many of our fights had started this way. But today, I was done playing his game.
Just then, Annalise came running out of the elevator. In a flash, Hawthorne deliberately jerked the steering wheel, slamming the Porsche into a concrete pillar with a sickening crunch.
“Ethan, oh my God, I’m so sorry!” he cried out, his voice a pitch-perfect imitation of panic. “I didn’t see you there. I know you’re upset that I got the position, but you shouldn’t have just blocked my way! If something had happened, I would have felt guilty for the rest of my life.”
He scrambled out of the car, rushing towards me with a look of feigned concern.
I ignored his performance and tried to maneuver my scooter around the mess, but Annalise’s fury reached me first. A vicious kick sent me and my scooter sprawling across the concrete.
“If you want to die, go do it somewhere else! Don’t you dare harass Hawthorne!”
A single glance at the security camera would have shown her who was lying. But she didn’t look. In that moment, the last embers of my love for her died.
Hawthorne pretended to help me up. I shoved his hand away in disgust, and he immediately stumbled backward, collapsing to the ground with a pained whimper. It was pathetic acting, but for his audience of one, it was a masterpiece.
Without hesitation, Annalise slapped me hard across the face, the sound echoing in the silent garage. Then she was at Hawthorne’s side, cradling him in her arms, her voice laced with panic and tenderness. She ran three red lights getting him to the hospital.
Watching them speed away, I remembered last year, when I’d worked myself into a stomach hemorrhage to land a crucial investor. Her response had been to send an assistant with a bottle of antacids.
A bitter laugh escaped me. I picked up my scooter and went home.
Later that night, Hawthorne posted on his social media.
Sometimes a little accident is a blessing in disguise. It’s so nice to be taken care of.
The picture was of Annalise, smiling softly as she spoon-fed him in his hospital bed.
I stared at it, my face a blank mask, and typed a single comment: Congratulations.
A moment later, my phone rang. It was Annalise. I expected a storm of accusations. Instead, her voice was a soft whisper.
“Ethan… Hawthorne is just like that. Once he settles in at work, I’ll tell everyone about us. I promise.”
“The Chief Scientist title is just for show,” she continued, “You’ll still be leading the project behind the scenes. Everyone will answer to you.”
“Mm-hmm,” I said, my voice flat. A slap, then a sweet promise. I’d been eating that particular brand of poison for five years. I was full.
Sensing my coldness, she fell silent for a moment. “I left a gift for you in the drawer,” she finally said. “A little something to make up for today. Please, let’s not fight anymore, okay?”
I hung up, went to the drawer, and pulled out a beautifully wrapped box. A small, elegant card was attached.
It read: For Hawthorne.
So it was his gift. No wonder she sounded so guilty.
Without another thought, I dropped the unopened box into the trash can.
Then, I picked up my phone and dialed the number for Orion Dynamics, the rival tech giant that had been trying to recruit me for years.
“I’ve thought about your offer,” I said into the phone. “I can start next month.”
2
Orion Dynamics was a global leader in quantum computing, and they had been relentlessly pursuing me for years, each offer more generous than the last. But I had never wavered, choosing to stay by Annalise’s side.
On the other end of the line, the recruiter, fearing I might change my mind, didn’t hesitate. “The VP of R&D position is yours. Stock options, a villa, a luxury car—the works. It’s all in the contract.”
A chill washed over me. In five years of marriage, I had received less consideration from my own wife than from a company that was practically a stranger.
I thought back to the beginning, when she had casually mentioned her dream of becoming a queen of the tech world. For her, I gave up a tenured professorship at a top international university and started from scratch with her.
Countless nights fueled by black coffee and sheer will, debugging code until the lines blurred. Countless trips across the country, chasing funding and partnerships. I had wrecked my body for her dream.
In the end, I single-handedly lifted Annalise, who knew next to nothing about quantum theory, to the CEO’s throne, while I remained the anonymous tech guy in the shadows.
I had given her everything. And for what? To have it all handed to another man.
From now on, I was living for me.
That night, I booked a flight and drafted my resignation letter. As a final courtesy, I sent Annalise the complete technical parameters and final testing protocols for the quantum computer.
Now, we were even.
As I packed my bags, I unearthed a box of memories, buried and forgotten. Matching watches, custom coffee mugs from our first anniversary, a photo of us in the lab, a video of our celebration when we published our first paper together…
Annalise had collected these things, piece by piece. I couldn’t pinpoint when the dust had started to settle on them. Probably the day Hawthorne came back.
It used to be us against the world, spending all night writing code, celebrating every breakthrough together. When I was sick, she would nurse me back to health, whispering about the future we would build, the world we would change.
Then, “us” became her staying out all night for “academic discussions” with Hawthorne. It became me collapsing from exhaustion and being admitted to the hospital, and her not even bothering to visit.
I guess even true love has an expiration date.
I’d asked her why, once. Why the change?
Her answer was a cocktail of impatience and contempt. “We’ve been together for so long, Ethan. Why are you still so immature? Hawthorne is a top expert in the field. Shouldn’t we give him the resources he needs? Can’t you just grow up?”
Staring at the photo of us in my hand, I felt a surge of bitter amusement. I tossed it into the trash.
My phone buzzed. A message from Annalise.
Have to accompany Hawthorne to a symposium tonight. We’ll celebrate our anniversary another day.
I didn’t reply. I just silently cancelled the reservation at the Michelin-starred restaurant and the custom-made projection show I had planned as a surprise proposal to renew our vows. In the past, she would have just stood me up without a word. At least this time she gave me a heads-up. Progress, I suppose.
Bored, I scrolled through my phone. The top trending story stopped me cold. “Tech CEO and Top Scientist on Moonlit Campus Stroll.” The accompanying photo was of Annalise, arm in arm with Hawthorne, walking through a beautiful university campus.
The comments were a waterfall of blessings and heart emojis. I casually liked the post.
After a long, hot shower, I went to a bar to unwind and called my lawyer to draft the divorce papers.
When I got home in the early hours of the morning, I found Annalise standing by the door, her face a thundercloud.
“So now you’ve learned to stay out all night?”
3
I stifled a yawn, genuinely surprised. She hadn’t stayed out. Usually, any event involving Hawthorne was a 24/7 commitment for her.
Ignoring her, I headed for the bedroom. She grabbed my arm, her grip like a vise.
“Married for years, and now you decide to start hitting the bars? I specifically cancelled my plans at the symposium to come home and be with you, and this is how you treat me?” Her voice rose. “Ethan, do you even remember that you’re a husband?”
A husband? The irony was so thick I could choke on it. The woman could lie without blinking, and now she wanted to lecture me on responsibility? She spends our anniversary on a romantic walk with another man, then comes home to grill me about my duties as a husband.
I remembered all the nights I’d waited up for her, only to be told I was being “too clingy,” “not independent enough,” that I should “focus my energy on the project.”
Now that I’d stopped waiting, she was the one who couldn’t let go.
I gave a noncommittal grunt, wanting nothing more than to sleep. But she pulled me back, her eyes cold and hard. “I haven’t showered yet. You can keep me company.”
There was a time when a request like that would have sent my heart soaring. I would have meticulously drawn her a bath, setting the water to the perfect temperature, adding a few drops of her favorite essential oil.
Now, it just felt like another one of her pointless power plays.
My eyes caught the faint, tell-tale red marks on her neck. A wave of nausea washed over me. I pushed her hand away, my patience gone. “I’ve already showered. You go ahead.”
She stared at me, her expression a mask of disbelief. “So I came home a little late on our anniversary, and this is how you act? I told you, the symposium ran long! Why do you have to be so childish?” she snapped. “You went out drinking, did I say a word? Why are you giving me this attitude?”
With that, she stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
In the past, I would have chased after her, ready to apologize and soothe her manufactured outrage.
Tonight, I just got into bed and slept like a log.
The next morning, I woke up well-rested and made myself a proper breakfast. Just as I was about to eat, I realized Annalise was still home. Usually, she wouldn’t set foot in the house until I had groveled sufficiently.
With a sigh, I pushed my plate of food toward her. Her expression softened, just a fraction.
Then I noticed a keycard on the table. A lab access card. My heart gave a painful thud. It was a master keycard, the one with the highest level of clearance, granting access to every experimental zone. I had requested one for years, and had always been denied.
She saw where I was looking and had the grace to look embarrassed. “That’s a birthday present for Hawthorne,” she said quickly. “I’ll get you one next time.”
It felt like plunging into ice water. A self-deprecating smile twisted my lips. Of course. Why would she ever think of me?
I just nodded and pushed two documents across the table toward her. “Sign these.”
She took them with an annoyed sigh. “Give you an inch and you take a mile.”
She signed the first document—my resignation letter—without even looking up. I had expected it, but the casual indifference still felt like a punch to the gut.
She signed the second one, too—the divorce agreement. It was only after her pen had left the paper that she realized what it was.
Her face went pale, then red with fury. She snatched the agreement and threw it at my chest. “Ethan, is this your new game? Threatening me with divorce? You think I won’t sign it?” she shrieked. “Fine! I’ll sign it! Are you happy now?”
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It was our third year crammed together in a shoebox apartment in the city when the storm hit and flooded the place. I buried my face in Jasper’s shoulder, the misery a cold weight in my chest.
He murmured that his heart ached for me, then turned around and, without blinking, donated twenty million dollars to the city’s disaster relief fund.
I heard the story later, secondhand. A pack of his blue-blood friends were joking about it at a private club.
“All those heiresses are throwing themselves at you, Croft. Why bother with some broke girl from the outer boroughs?”
Jasper just smiled, those beautiful, treacherous eyes of his crinkling at the corners. “My girl works three jobs a day just to save up for a ring for me. Could any of them do that?”
Then, another voice cut in. “But what if she actually proposes? Aren’t you and Delia Duncan supposed to be getting engaged?”
“It’s just a game,” Jasper said with a dismissive laugh. “You don’t actually think I’d marry her, do you?” After a pause, his voice took on a chilling certainty. “Besides, Wren will never find out.”
He didn’t know I was standing right outside the door.
1
I’d fought my way through a monsoon to find him. My lab coat was plastered to my skin, a cold, second skin of ice, but it was nothing compared to the glacial chill of his words. They were icicles plunging straight into my heart, a pain so sharp it made my whole body recoil.
Inside the private room, the conversation flowed on.
“You’re right. She’d probably lose her mind if she knew.”
“Can you imagine? The pretty boy she’s been ‘keeping’ for three years casually drops twenty million on a donation. You couldn’t write this stuff, hahaha.”
“So what’s the plan, Jasper? Just turn her down flat when she proposes?”
Jasper lazily motioned for the waiter to open another bottle of wine. “Turn her down? Why would I do that?” he murmured, a wicked glint in his eye. “I’m not done playing yet.”
He stroked his chin, a thoughtful, predatory look on his face. Then, a roguish smile spread across his lips, making the tiny beauty mark by his eye seem to burn even brighter. “What do you guys think? Maybe I should break up with her first, just to scare her a little. You know, tell her my ‘three-thousand-a-month’ salary can’t possibly hold her back.”
“You’re playing with fire, man. What if she actually leaves?”
“You don’t know Wren,” another voice chimed in, filled with smug confidence. “He’s tried breaking up with her how many times? And every single time, she’s the one who comes back crying, begging him to take her back.”
Jasper clearly savored that, raising his glass in a silent toast to the speaker, who puffed up with pride.
Then, someone else clicked their tongue. “Damn, that’s pathetic. Like some stray no one wants, just begging for scraps…”
I couldn’t listen anymore. My legs felt like they were filled with lead as I dragged myself away, my soul adrift. My hand brushed against the small, velvet box in my pocket, and I snatched it away as if it were on fire.
Behind me, the boisterous room fell strangely silent.
Jasper, who had been lounging in his chair, now sat up. One hand draped over the backrest, the other swirling the wine in his glass, he shot a sideways glare at the man who had just spoken. The air turned frigid.
Everyone in that room was part of New York’s elite, but there were levels to that world. The Croft family was old money, with influence stretching from Wall Street to Washington. Jasper, groomed since birth to be the heir, was not someone you crossed.
“Jasper, man, I’m sorry,” the guy, Leo, stammered, his face pale. He started slapping his own cheek, hard. “I was drunk, I shouldn’t have said that about your girl!”
The others quickly jumped in to smooth things over. “You idiot, don’t you know his girlfriend is a researcher at Columbia? She’s a damn genius. Who are you to talk?”
Only when Leo’s face began to swell did Jasper speak, his voice a low, dangerous purr. “That’s enough.” He paused, his eyes narrowing. “Vance, isn’t it? Your family is in pharmaceuticals?”
Leo Vance nodded frantically.
Jasper leaned forward, propping his chin on his hand. He lifted his glass slightly. “Columbia’s latest research project…”
“I get it! I get it, Jasper!” Leo interrupted, tripping over his words in his haste. “Thank you for the opportunity! I’ll make sure she gets all the support she needs!”
2
I stumbled home in a daze, their words echoing in my head.
“The girl’s a total fool. She kind of deserves to be played.”
“Remember three years ago? Jasper lost a dare and had to go to that karaoke bar and pretend to be an escort for an hour.”
“The first few women who came in knew it was a joke. But not her. She actually believed him.”
I was a fool. An absolute fool.
I didn’t recognize that the artfully distressed sweater he wore was the latest from Balenciaga. I didn’t know the simple silver watch on his wrist was a Richard Mille, worth a small fortune. I just heard his sob story—a gambling-addicted father, a sick mother—and in his tragedy, I saw a reflection of my own past.
I looked at his face, as devastatingly beautiful as a Japanese drama star, and my heart melted with a tenderness I hadn’t known I possessed.
I had no idea that behind those soulful eyes, he was thinking, Tsk, what an idiot. How could anyone fall for such a ridiculous lie?
I spent ages convincing him to leave that life, helping him find “respectable” work. I was just a research assistant myself, barely making a few thousand a month, yet I scraped together two grand to buy him a decent suit so he could make a good impression. All the while, I wore the same trench coat for three years straight.
And him? He would just flash that devastating smile, his eyes curving into crescents. “You’re so good to me, my beautiful angel,” he’d purr. “I’ll have to find a way to repay you properly.”
Then he’d pull me into his arms, and we’d be lost in each other.
He was a twenty-year-old discovering passion for the first time… or so I thought. Once he started, he was insatiable. The walls of our old apartment were paper-thin, and the more I bit my lip to stay quiet, the more determined he became to draw out every sound from me, forcing soft pleas and breathless cries from my lips until he was finally satisfied.
He was beautiful. He loved to cuddle. He loved to cook for me.
I truly believed we would be tangled up like this forever.
I even took on two extra freelance jobs, working myself to the bone, just to save up enough money to buy him a ring. I was going to be the one to propose.
3
On the way home, I passed the subway station Jasper usually took. It was chaos. Firefighters, paramedics, dazed survivors wrapped in emergency blankets… a sea of flashing lights and desperate faces.
I stopped, my heart pounding in my throat.
My phone buzzed with a new message.
Jasper: Angel, my phone fell in the water, just got it fixed.
Jasper: I bought you a little cupcake. Almost home~
The message was followed by a sticker of a cartoon puppy holding up a heart. The caption read: Puppy loves you most!
For a moment, the world tilted. It took a long time for my fingers to move, to type out a reply.
Me: I’m at the subway station. The north entrance on Huang Lane.
A few minutes later, he appeared around the corner. He was a striking figure—tall and slender, with skin so pale it seemed to glow, lips a natural cherry-red. Even in a simple white t-shirt, a gray hoodie, and dark jeans, he had the undeniable aura of a star. Heads turned as he walked past.
“I told you to stay home and rest,” he scolded gently, shrugging off his hoodie and draping it over my shoulders. “You know you get sick so easily. Why would you run out in the rain?”
His familiar scent, a clean, crisp fragrance like pine needles, enveloped me. It was so achingly familiar that it stung my nose and made my eyes burn.
“I thought you were dead,” I said, my voice a broken thing. I pointed a trembling finger toward the dark mouth of the subway entrance. I thought I would be screaming, hysterical, but my throat felt like a rusted pipe—only a raw, hoarse, exhausted sound came out.
“You texted that you were just getting on the train, and then… nothing. The news said the tunnel was flooded. I was so scared. I ran for miles in the storm to get here. They wouldn’t let me go down. I told them, no, my boyfriend is in there. If he’s going to die, we’ll die together.”
I lifted my head, my bloodshot eyes locking onto his.
“Jasper,” I whispered, the name a shard of glass on my tongue. “When I was so worried about you that I was ready to throw my own life away, where were you?”
His long, dark lashes swept down, hiding those ever-smiling eyes, concealing the storm I knew must be raging within them. Maybe this game had finally grown heavier than he’d anticipated. Or maybe, just maybe, he was laughing silently at the sheer, pathetic devotion of the woman in front of him.
He just turned his face away, a light, dismissive smile playing on his lips. “On my way to buy you a cupcake, of course.”
No, you weren’t. You were at a club with your rich friends, drinking and laughing. You were taking my heart and grinding it into the dirt under your heel.
Before I could press him further, he turned his back to me and crouched down. “Get on. Let’s go home before you really get sick.”
And just like that, he was carrying me on his back, wading through the murky, waist-deep water that had consumed our street.
My voice was a detached, airy whisper by his ear. “What home? Jasper, our home is gone.”
Our first-floor apartment in the old building was a disaster. The nineties-era complex had drainage systems that were a joke. When we pushed open the door, we were greeted by a scene of utter devastation.
A meter of filthy water filled the room. Floating in the brown murk were the matching mugs Jasper had bought, our slippers, and the pieces of the photo wall he’d so carefully curated…
In those photos, we were laughing, smearing birthday cake on each other’s faces; we were holding sparklers on New Year’s Eve, our hands forming a heart against the night sky… all those perfect, romantic moments, now warped and blurred by the floodwater.
“Damn it. They’re all ruined,” Jasper muttered, his brow furrowed as he fished the soggy pictures from the water.
I opened my mouth, a question burning on my tongue. Was it all just a game? And if so, why did you look so genuinely heartbroken over these shattered memories?
But all I said was, “It’s fine. They’re not that important.”
“Not important?” He stared at me, a wounded look in his eyes. “If this isn’t important, then what is?”
Are they important because they’re trophies from the three years you spent conning a woman out of her heart?
I clenched my fists, my lips pressed into a thin line, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask.
4
The apartment was unlivable. Every hotel nearby was either fully booked or charging astronomical prices. One clerk quoted us four thousand dollars for a single night.
Defeated, we ended up huddled with the crowds in a hotel lobby, leaning against a corner, trying to figure out our next move.
I overheard two young women chatting nearby.
“God, I wish some billionaire would just randomly fall in love with me and drop a million bucks in my account.”
“Forget that, did you see the news? I’m so jealous of Delia Duncan. She’s a huge star, basically New York royalty, and now her fiancé just casually donates twenty million dollars to charity. In both their names! Talk about relationship goals.”
Behind me, I felt Jasper’s muscles tense. He leaned in close, his voice a low, wheedling murmur against my ear. “Angel, let’s just pay the four thousand. Please? Let’s just get a room.”
His body, warm against my back, was trembling slightly. It was late autumn, and he’d given me his hoodie, leaving him in just a t-shirt.
Before, I would have melted. I would have spent a third of my monthly salary without a second thought, just to keep him comfortable.
But now, I pinched his thigh, hard. My voice was flat. “You brought this on yourself. You deserve it.” I paused, then added in a light, mocking tone, “If you were like that guy on the news, donating twenty million like it was pocket change, do you think I’d be living this miserable life?”
As soon as the words were out, a violent coughing fit seized me. Jasper’s hand was instantly on my back, rubbing gentle circles.
When I finally caught my breath, he lowered his head, his lips brushing my ear. He pitched his voice into that familiar, playfully pathetic tone. “I get it. My angel thinks I’m poor now. It’s my fault. I’m not good enough to give you a big house… making you suffer out here in the cold, sick and with nowhere to go. It’s all my fault…”
I thought I was all out of tears. But hearing him spin that web of sweet, false sincerity, lamenting how he couldn’t give me a better life—the same life he’d watched me sacrifice for him day after day for three years—I felt that familiar, bitter sting behind my eyes.
He was doing it again. Watching me get worn down by life, watching me suffer for him, and then smoothing it all over with a few pretty, empty words. He probably got a sick thrill out of it.
“Yes,” I said, cutting him off. “It is all your fault.”
He stopped, his face a mask of shock. Right. Usually, this was my cue to soothe him, to whisper, “Don’t you dare blame yourself. It hurts me when you do that, you know?”
But now, I turned to face him, my gaze level and cold. “Who else would it be? You make three grand a month, Jasper. You can’t even afford a bathroom in this city. You think I want you holding me back for the rest of my life? Did you really, honestly think I wanted to live in that dump with you forever?”
He just stared, completely stunned. For a long moment, he was silent, then a stiff, unnatural smile stretched his lips. “I… I can work overtime—”
“I’m just kidding,” I said, pushing him away, unable to listen to another lie.
In my peripheral vision, I saw the tension drain from his shoulders, saw them slump in relief.
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The day before my wedding, I got a call from the hotel. “Mr. Winston, hello. Someone has… well, they’ve wrecked your wedding venue.”
I rushed over, completely bewildered, only to find some pretty boy holding a wedding photo of himself with my fiancée, screaming, “You shameless gold digger! Seducing my wife! Spending her money on a lavish wedding like this!”
The scene was a powder keg of outrage. Even the hotel manager was pointing a finger at me. “I knew something was off,” he sneered. “The bride-to-be never showed up for a single planning meeting. Turns out he’s not even the real husband.”
The crowd of onlookers grew, their whispers turning into a mob. They beat me, shoved me, and in the chaos, my leg was broken.
A laugh, sharp and bitter, escaped my lips. I pulled out my phone and sent a quick text to my secretary. “Cancel the wedding. And tell Ella Lee to get the hell out of my company.”
Spending my money to keep a boy toy, and one this arrogant?
Let’s see how I tear you both apart.
…
I was standing in front of the mirror, adjusting the fit of my tuxedo for the next day, when the hotel manager’s call came through. His voice was dripping with a sick sort of pleasure. “Mr. Winston, ah, yes. About that ‘Starlight Dream’ luxury wedding you’ve booked? Someone’s smashed it all to pieces. I think you’d better get down here.”
Smashed?
My mind went blank for a second. I had spent half a year and millions of dollars planning this wedding. Who would dare?
Tomorrow was the day. The day I was supposed to marry Ella Lee, my girlfriend of seven years. This was the last moment for something to go wrong.
Fury ignited in my chest. I didn’t have time to think. I shot a quick text to Ella and sped toward the hotel.
I could hear the manager’s oily voice from the entrance. “Oh, I had no idea Ms. Lee’s husband was so young and handsome! A perfect match for a CEO like her!”
“See? I told you something was up,” another voice chimed in. “Never saw the bride once during the setup. He’s the other man!”
“Let’s exchange contact info. If the hotel has any new projects, I hope you’ll put in a good word with Ms. Lee for us!”
Ms. Lee?
My heart dropped. I followed the sound and saw him: a skinny, pale pretty boy, pocketing the manager’s business card with a look of venomous satisfaction. “Of course,” he said. “Just as soon as I’m done with this shameless leech.”
“I’ll be sure to remember your help.”
I strode forward into the ballroom. The magnificent floral arch, which had been painstakingly assembled that afternoon, was toppled like a fallen giant. The towering champagne fountain lay in glittering shards across the floor. And strewn among the wreckage were the vulgar remains of rotten vegetables and broken eggs.
My dream wedding venue, a palace of opulence just hours ago, was now a scene of utter chaos.
I swallowed my rage, the words grinding between my teeth. “Who. Did. This.”
“I did!” The pretty boy saw me and, without a second thought, swung his leg and kicked me hard in the ribs. “I, Leo, am going to teach you a lesson today, you pathetic leech!”
I staggered back, nearly losing my footing. “Leo?”
The name was vaguely familiar. Right. Ella had mentioned him before—a junior from her university who’d asked for help finding a job. His name was Leo…
Ella and I had been together since college.
A cold, humorless laugh escaped my lips. So, this was her game. My father, taking pity on her because she was pregnant, had magnanimously made her the acting president of a subsidiary company to “play with.” And she’d actually started to believe her own hype, brazenly keeping a lover on the side.
My glare fixed on Leo. “Who the hell do you think you are?” I snarled. “You dare touch me?”
Leo whipped out his phone, the screen displaying a wedding photo of him and Ella. He then pointed a trembling finger at the large welcome portrait of Ella and me at the ballroom entrance. “Who am I?” he shrieked. “I should be asking, who the hell are you?!”
“My wife and I had our wedding photos taken six months ago! And you still have the nerve to seduce her?”
Seduce her? What a joke.
I reached for my own phone to call Ella and have her face this mess, but Leo snatched it from my hand and smashed it on the marble floor. “Calling for backup, are you, gold digger?!”
His voice was shrill, attracting a circle of gawkers who began pointing and whispering.
“I just Googled her. The woman is Ella Lee, the CEO of Apex Industries.”
“Kids these days… they’ll do anything for money.”
“I know, right? He’s a good-looking guy, too. Why throw it all away to be a kept man?”
Sensing the drama escalating, the hotel manager scurried over to placate Leo. “Don’t be angry, sir, it’s not worth your health. How about this? I’ll arrange our finest presidential suite for you, and a year of complimentary stays for you and Ms. Lee. Please, just calm down?”
He then turned to me, his face a mask of contempt. “Mr. Winston, I’m sorry, but our hotel will no longer be hosting your wedding.”
I laughed, a sound raw with disbelief. “You’re canceling? Are you prepared to pay the breach of contract penalty?” I swept my gaze over the trashed venue. “And this… this million-dollar setup. Are you sure you can afford to replace it?”
Leo scoffed and, catching me off guard, grabbed the collar of my shirt. “Pay?! You used my wife’s money to pay for this, you leech! And you have the audacity to ask me for compensation? Have you no shame?”
It was then that he noticed the key fob for my limited-edition supercar in my hand. His face flushed with rage. “So that’s why Ella couldn’t buy me this car! Because you, the mistress, already took it!”
He lunged for the keys. My first instinct was to hold on tight, but then I thought better of it. It wasn’t worth getting hurt over this parasite. I let go.
Leo, clutching the key fob, then dramatically stumbled backward and fell to the floor.
Instantly, the onlookers rushed to help him up, their accusations turning on me. “What has this hotel come to, letting a degenerate like him in?”
“Exactly! Mr. Leo, don’t worry, we all saw it! He assaulted you!”
“That’s right, Mr. Leo! Um… my husband works at your company, in the marketing department. I hope you’ll mention him to Ms. Lee, perhaps for a promotion?”
…
Ella was a president in name only, of a company that wasn’t even publicly traded. Yet they were all fawning over “Mr. Leo,” the “CEO’s husband.”
I remembered my father telling me just a few days ago that after Ella and I were married, he would slowly hand over the rest of the group’s companies to us.
And now? All I felt was a profound sense of relief.
Leo, propped up by the crowd, smugly straightened his clothes. He pointed at me and shouted at the manager, “You let anyone into this hotel? Are you trying to ruin your own reputation?”
The manager bowed and scraped. “Yes, yes, you’re absolutely right, Mr. Leo. It won’t happen again!”
Leo snorted and, dangling my keys, swaggered toward the entrance. With a chirp, the lights of a multi-million-dollar supercar flashed.
He pointed at the car, his voice a screech. “You bastard! How dare you waste my wife’s money like this!”
He walked back to me, rubbing the key fob menacingly against my cheek. “Someone like you deserves to drive a car like this? I’ll have it smashed to pieces!”
He threw the keys to the ground and stomped on them again and again, grinding his heel until the fob was a mangled wreck of plastic and metal. Still not satisfied, he grabbed a hammer from a nearby toolbox. “A ten-million-dollar car is too good for a leech!”
He stormed towards my car, raised the hammer high, and as I watched in stunned silence, brought it down with all his might.
I didn’t stop him. I just mentally tallied up the damages he’d owe me.
Just then, the hotel owner came rushing in. The manager whispered a few words in his ear, and the owner’s head snapped up. He looked at me, his face grim. “Mr. Winston, from this day forward, you are blacklisted from our establishment.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. How could this entire group of people be so thoroughly manipulated by one pathetic pretty boy?
“Are you sure?” I asked, looking the owner dead in the eye.
He gave me a disdainful once-over. “We pride ourselves on our reputation. We do not welcome people like you here.”
I nodded slowly. “Fine.”
This hotel, of which my father was a major shareholder.
Let’s see how much he regrets this.
I bent down to retrieve my mangled phone, but Leo’s foot slammed onto my back, pinning me down. “I’ve already called my wife. She’ll be here any minute. Let’s see how cocky you are then!”
Wincing in pain, I grabbed his ankle, twisted hard, and sent him sprawling to the ground.
The manager gasped and rushed to help him up. “Mr. Leo! Are you alright? Should I call an ambulance?”
“Forget the ambulance! Arrest him! This man is a shameless homewrecker!” Leo screamed, his eyes red. “You seduce my wife and then you assault me? I’ll ruin you!”
The hotel owner’s face was livid. “How dare you attack Mr. Leo! This hotel has security cameras everywhere! I’ve already called the police!”
The crowd of spectators now transformed into a posse of righteous vigilantes. They swarmed me, pulling my hair, tearing at my clothes.
“You dare hit Ms. Lee’s husband? I’ll record this as evidence! You’re not just a homewrecker, you’re a violent criminal!”
“Yes! Post it online! Make him famous!”
They shoved me, dragging me toward the welcome portrait of Ella and me. Someone ripped it from its stand and, with a vicious RRRRIP, tore our photo in two.
I watched the image of us shatter, and I felt nothing. Nothing but a cold, bottomless well of disgust and rage.
Good. Rip it to shreds.
“Did you get that on camera? Post it! I want everyone to see this leech’s true face!” Leo directed the mob, puffed up with the thrill of victory.
I clutched my broken phone, the screen flashing with dozens of unread messages from Ella.
Hah. She still had the nerve to message me?
While they were distracted, I managed to open the notifications. Unsurprisingly, they were a stream of pathetic apologies, excuses, and pleas for forgiveness. I scanned them quickly, then deleted and blocked her number without a second thought.
Then, I sent one last message to my secretary. “Cancel the wedding. And have my father pull all his investments from the Starlight Grand Hotel. Also, tell Ella Lee to get the hell out of my company.”
The reply was instantaneous. A single sentence. “Understood, Mr. Winston.”
Leo saw me using my phone. He raised the hammer and swung it at me without hesitation.
I couldn’t dodge in time. A muffled grunt escaped my lips as a sickening crack echoed through the room. White-hot agony exploded in my lower leg, and I collapsed, curling into a ball on the floor.
A wave of gasps went through the crowd, but they quickly fell silent. The hotel owner looked down at me, his voice dripping with condescension. “Mr. Winston, stop faking it. The damage to the venue was a result of your personal dispute. The hotel will not be compensating you.”
“Furthermore, I suggest you apologize to Ms. Lee’s husband, Mr. Leo.”
Pain was making my vision swim. I couldn’t speak. I could only glare at the faces looming over me, my eyes burning.
Suddenly, the manager pointed at my leg, his voice trembling. “Blood…!”
I looked down. My calf was bent at an unnatural angle. Was it… broken?
A flicker of panic crossed Leo’s face, but it was quickly replaced by a vicious smirk. He crossed his arms. “Hah! You thought you could seduce my wife with your pretty face and live off her money? Let’s see you seduce anyone with a broken leg!”
“You deserved it!”
I pressed my hands to the floor, fighting to stay conscious.
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