Category: English

My girlfriend’s stamina was absolutely terrifying. For the eight years we had been together, my body had been pushed to the absolute breaking point. So, when I found out her golden boy, her elusive first love, was finally returning from overseas, my eyes literally welled up with tears of sheer relief. Dawn had finally broken. My initial plan was to pack a bag and vanish into the night. But thinking back on how good Stella had been to me over these past eight years, I decided she deserved one last home-cooked meal. “Babe, what are you craving for dinner?” Her voice came through the phone speaker, crisp and icy. “Fish.” A shiver ran down my spine. “Honey, how about we switch up the menu…” Before I could even finish my sentence, the line went dead. She was a tyrant. I gritted my teeth. Fine, let’s go all out. It was my last night anyway. I refused to believe I couldn’t handle her one last time. During dinner, Stella pulled a pristine napkin from her lap. Slowly, methodically, she picked the tiny bones from her fish and lined them up on the white fabric. One bone. Two bones. She didn’t stop until she placed the seventh bone. 1 Night fell. I was gasping for air, my eyelids heavy as lead. Stella was in an even deeper state of bliss, completely boneless and melting against my chest. Her usual cold, distant demeanor had completely evaporated. The corners of her eyes and the curve of her brows held a lingering, intoxicating warmth. Looking at the stunning woman curled up in my arms, my body betrayed me and reacted again. Sensing the shift, Stella scrambled out of my embrace, her breath hitching. After a long moment of silence, she asked softly, “Noah, is something on your mind?” I mentally kicked myself. Damn it. I was so caught up in the afterglow that I completely forgot my exit strategy. Taking advantage of her rare good mood, I tested the waters. “Sweetheart, I heard Sebastian is back from Europe.” Stella furrowed her perfect brows. “What does his return have to do with you?” How could it not? That was the man she had been pining over for a decade. I tried to reason with her. “Look, babe, I know you never truly got over him. Now that he’s back, I’m willing to step aside. I want you to be happy.” “If I can’t give you the fairy tale, I’m giving you your freedom.” The more I spoke, the more worked up I got. I was practically bringing myself to tears with my own nobility. But Stella’s face turned entirely to ice. A terrifying, inexplicable chill settled in her eyes. I knew that look. It was the calm before the hurricane. I wisely shut my mouth. After what felt like an eternity, she let out a heavy sigh, turned her back to me, and pulled the covers up. “Noah, never say anything like that to me again.” Seeing her act so utterly put out made my blood boil. Who was she kidding? Everyone knew she was still hung up on Sebastian. I was literally serving her freedom on a silver platter, and she had the nerve to act annoyed. Fine. If she wouldn’t listen to reason, she couldn’t blame me for ghosting. With my mind made up, I squeezed my eyes shut and turned away from her. Exhaustion quickly took over, pulling me into a heavy, dreamless sleep. When I opened my eyes, sunlight was pouring into the bedroom. The space beside me was empty. Stella was fiercely disciplined and ruthlessly ambitious. You didn’t become the Vice President of a publicly traded tech firm just eight years out of college by sleeping in. I was her polar opposite. I took life as it came. After graduation, I floated around the tech sector. Now, pushing thirty, I was just a mid-level department manager. I dragged myself out of bed, called my boss to burn a sick day, and immediately headed out to meet a real estate agent. I had picked out a new apartment the exact day I heard Sebastian was coming back. The place was perfect. Utilities were set up, the Wi-Fi was blazing fast, the furniture was brand new, and most importantly, it was incredibly close to my office. I didn’t even try to haggle. I signed the lease right there on the kitchen counter. When the agent heard I wanted to move in today, he eagerly hooked me up with a moving crew. I didn’t own much. My work laptop, some clothes, and a few boxes of books. By noon, my side of the closet was wiped clean. Walking out of the building, I glanced back at the luxury condo we had shared for the last eight years. A bitter ache twisted in my chest. Even when Stella started making serious money, we never upgraded. To me, this place was home. But for the sake of my own survival, I had to cut the cord. The destructive power of a girl’s first true love was legendary. If I lingered even a second too long, I’d be caught in the blast radius. 2 By the time the sun set, my new place was spotless. Looking around the quiet, brightly lit living room, the tight knot in my chest finally began to loosen. Just as I was admiring my handiwork, my phone absolutely blew up. Our high school WhatsApp group, which was usually a ghost town, was blowing up with notifications. Chase, our old class president, had sparked the chaos. “Alright people! To welcome Sebastian back to the States, drinks and dinner are on me tomorrow night at eight. Private lounge at the Plaza Hotel. I want to see everyone there!” Chase was Sebastian’s ultimate wingman back in the day, so him hosting a welcome back bash was fully expected. The chat went wild. People were hyping Chase up and flooding the chat with emojis for Sebastian. Then, Sebastian himself chimed in. “Thanks for remembering me, guys. I really hope to see all of your faces tomorrow.” Immediately after, he dropped a massive digital gift card into the chat for everyone to claim. The group completely lost its mind, calling him a boss and a legend. I watched the screen in dead silence. I didn’t type a word. I didn’t click the link. Hailey, a girl who used to share a desk with Sebastian, suddenly derailed the hype train. “Why is Stella so quiet? Is she not in the group anymore? Is she coming tomorrow?” The chat went completely dead. Back in high school, Sebastian and Stella were the undisputed golden couple. He was the handsome star athlete, she was the untouchable ice queen, and they permanently locked down the top two spots in our class rankings. Even the strictest teachers looked the other way when they held hands in the hallways. Back then, Stella was the picture of a devoted girlfriend. To any other guy, she was a brick wall. But for Sebastian, she was soft, sweet, and entirely attentive. When he played basketball, she stood on the sidelines holding his water bottle. When they ate in the cafeteria, she would quietly move the best pieces of meat from her tray onto his. Every guy in our class watched them with a toxic mix of jealousy and despair. But things fell apart after graduation. Sebastian chose to attend a prestigious university in the UK. They had a massive, explosive fight about it. Stella begged him to stay. Sebastian was dead set on leaving, demanding she come with him. But Stella came from a working-class family. There was absolutely no way she could afford international tuition. They shattered completely. When college started, Stella fell into a dark, suffocating depression. As her former classmate and long-time admirer, I saw my window. She was in a new city, reeling from a brutal heartbreak, and entirely vulnerable. I didn’t hesitate. I stepped right into the void. During winter break of our freshman year, after a party and far too many drinks, the line between us blurred. I’ll freely admit I wasn’t some noble knight. I acted purely out of raw, desperate infatuation. I didn’t let myself think about the consequences. But the next morning, seeing the vulnerability in her eyes and realizing she had given me a part of herself she had never shared with Sebastian, I froze. At that exact moment, I knew I was in way over my head. I was completely hers. Once we made it official, I gave her everything I had. But Stella always kept me at an arm’s length. I understood why. I was the rebound. I was the guy who kept the loneliness at bay when she was bleeding out. I couldn’t blame her for that. I still poured my heart into her. I was young and foolish enough to believe that if I just loved her hard enough, eventually she would see my worth. So, when she asked me not to post pictures of us on Instagram, I kept my feed empty. When she told me to stay home from her corporate promotion dinners, I stayed home. For eight years, I swallowed my pride. I accepted that she was cold to the world and lukewarm to me. That was just who she was. But there were nights when I would wake up to an empty bed. I would find her standing on the balcony, her eyes lost in the city lights, carrying a melancholy that I could never touch. I knew exactly who she was looking for. 3 The buzzing of my phone yanked me back to reality. The group chat was completely off the rails now. “Stella will definitely be there. Has anyone even heard of her dating anyone since high school?” “Exactly. She’s been waiting for our boy Sebastian.” “So, Mr. Wall Street, are you planning on winning a certain someone back?” Sebastian replied with a single smiley face emoji. He said absolutely nothing, but that emoji screamed volumes. I had already made peace with walking away. But reading those messages still felt like a jagged piece of glass twisting in my gut. I let out a bitter laugh. Sebastian was clearly treating her like a prize he had already won back. My phone vibrated in my hand. It was Stella. I answered, and her clipped, professional voice filled my ear. “Noah, I’m stuck at the office. Don’t wait up for dinner. Bye.” She hadn’t even been home. She had no idea my closet was empty. Before she could hang up, I cut in. “Wait. Don’t hang up.” “Stella, have you looked at the high school group chat today?” Her tone was completely flat. “No. I don’t have time for that.” I took a deep breath, bracing myself. “Tomorrow night, they’re throwing a massive welcome home party for Sebastian. Are you going?” The silence on the other end stretched on for so long that I thought the call dropped. Finally, her voice came through, colder than liquid nitrogen. “No. Why, do you want to go?” What kind of trap was that? If she wasn’t going, was I banned from attending? Besides, how was I supposed to know if she was lying just to sneak off and see him? “Yeah, I’m going. Why wouldn’t I?” I shot back. “Besides, if we both pull a no-show, certain people might get the wrong idea. That wouldn’t be a good look.” Stella caught the hidden venom in my words. Her voice dropped an octave. “Noah, cut the passive-aggressive act. You’ve called me by my first name three times today. I don’t like it.” Click. She hung up. I scoffed at the screen. You don’t like it? Well, I don’t like a lot of things. For eight years, I called her sweetheart, baby, honey. She exclusively used my first name. The only time she ever called me her man was when we were tangled in the sheets. I gave up eight years of my life chasing a title she was never going to give me in the daylight. The fantasy was over. I was done bleeding myself dry for a lost cause. I opened the chat one last time. People were literally taking bets on what their romantic reunion was going to look like. Disgusted, I tossed my phone onto the sofa. A heavy, suffocating pain spread through my chest. Walking away was the right move, but it didn’t mean I had magically stopped loving her. I loved her desperately. But after eight years of talking to a wall, even the deepest love runs out of oxygen. Staying any longer would just be pathetic. That night, I was deep in a dreamless sleep when my phone shattered the silence. I blindly swiped to answer. Stella’s voice poured out of the speaker, so cold it could freeze whiskey. “Noah. Where the hell are you?” I jolted awake, my heart slamming against my ribs. “S-Stella. I moved out.” The words felt clumsy and guilty on my tongue, even though I had nothing to be guilty about. I could literally hear her teeth grinding together. “Give me one good reason.” Did I really need to spell it out? Your golden boy is back in town ready to sweep you off your feet. I was just clearing the stage. “I don’t need a reason. I’m just not in love with you anymore. We’re done.” Dead silence. I didn’t say another word. We just stayed on the line, listening to each other’s ragged breathing through the dark. After a long time, the edge finally left her voice, leaving something soft and broken behind. “Noah, I knew something was wrong with you these past few days. But you wouldn’t talk to me.” “We’ve been together for eight years. We might not have the paperwork, but we’re basically married. If you’re going through something, tell me. We can fix it together.” I let out a harsh, cynical laugh. Fix it? How do you fix a ghost from the past? “Save the fake sympathy, Stella. I’m not going through anything. I just don’t want you anymore. It’s over.” Before she could form a response, I pulled the phone away and ended the call. Just before the screen went black, I swore I heard a sharp, trembling sob. Nonsense. Stella crying over me? Impossible. I was just hearing things. 4 I woke up the next morning, stretched, and felt surprisingly incredible. Living alone actually had its perks. I didn’t have to worry about draining my life force just to keep Stella satisfied. I grabbed a coffee and a breakfast sandwich downstairs and started plotting out my Saturday. I had the whole day to myself, and I was absolutely going to that reunion tonight. I needed to see with my own eyes if the woman who swore she wasn’t going would miraculously show up. After breakfast, I hit an upscale barbershop for a clean, sharp fade. Looking in the mirror, I had to admit, the raw material wasn’t bad. I was just horribly packaged. Plaid shirts, faded jeans, and hiking boots. No wonder Stella treated me like a dirty secret. Honestly, I couldn’t even fully blame her. I walked straight to Nordstrom and dropped some serious cash on a tailored navy suit. I even let the sales associate talk me into some skincare products. When I looked in the dressing room mirror, I gave myself a slow nod of approval. Money really does buy confidence. At exactly six o’clock, I pushed open the heavy mahogany doors of the Plaza Hotel’s VIP lounge. Most of the class was already there, drinks in hand, buzzing with nostalgia. Right in the epicenter of the room stood a man in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit, soaking up the adoration like a sponge. “Sebastian, man, I heard you started your own private equity fund. You guys must have all the insider tech, right?” Sebastian offered a smooth, mysterious smile, playing the enigmatic billionaire perfectly. When he didn’t give up the goods, people pressed harder. “Come on, Seb. We’re family here. If you’ve got the golden ticket, you can’t keep it all to yourself.” Chase, the class president, threw an arm around Sebastian’s shoulder and laughed loudly. “Relax, guys! You know our boy isn’t like that. When he makes a move, he’ll take care of us.” The crowd visibly relaxed, practically lining up to kiss the rings of both Sebastian and Chase. Chase caught my eye from across the room and raised his whiskey glass. “Noah! You made it!” I wasn’t exactly a star player in high school, so I was surprised he remembered my name. Sebastian followed Chase’s gaze and gave me a polite, measured nod. But there was something sharp and highly amused in his eyes. I walked over and bumped fists with Chase. He was a trust-fund kid, loud and a little obnoxious, but he didn’t have a malicious bone in his body. Then I looked at Sebastian. Eight years in Europe had done him well. He was sharper, wealthier, and radiating an effortless alpha energy. Even in my new suit, I felt a little outgunned. Sebastian swirled the ice in his glass. “Noah. I remember you went to the same university as Stella.” I nodded, waiting for the hook. He asked casually, flawlessly nonchalant. “Do you guys still keep in touch?” Before I could even open my mouth, Hailey, his former desk-mate and ultimate fangirl, let out a loud scoff. “Please. Stella’s standards are way too high. Why would she keep in touch with him? I don’t think they exchanged two words our entire senior year.” A ripple of laughter echoed through the group. I just shrugged. I had already dumped her. Let them think whatever they wanted. It wasn’t like I had ever planned on using her name for street cred anyway. Chase frowned at the laughing crowd. “Shut up, guys. None of you talked to her either.” That shut the guys up real quick. It was true. Aside from Sebastian, Stella treated the male population like they were invisible. Hailey noticed Sebastian constantly checking his Rolex and glancing at the door. She bumped his shoulder playfully. “Seb, your heart is literally hovering by the entrance.” Sebastian offered a modest, handsome smile. “If you’re that anxious, just call her,” Hailey pushed. “We might not have her number, but there’s no way you don’t.” Sebastian neatly dodged the question. “Whether she comes or not is entirely up to her. I wouldn’t want to pressure her into changing her mind just because I called.” Hailey looked at him like he was a god. “You are such a gentleman.” I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt. The guy was putting on a masterclass in manipulation. He knew exactly what he was doing. If he called her, she would drop everything and run here. Suddenly, the heavy double doors of the banquet hall slowly swung open. Stella stood in the doorway, framed by the hallway lights. She was still wearing her sleek, tailored executive blazer and skirt. The room gasped. The boys practically scrambled over each other to form a welcoming committee. I took a sip of my drink, a bitter smirk on my face. She swore she wasn’t coming, yet here she was, making the grand, dramatic entrance. Was this the only way to ensure every eye in the room was on her? But damn, a first love’s gravity was terrifying. A blind man could see exactly who she had rushed here for. Sebastian stepped through the crowd, parting them like the Red Sea. His eyes were liquid velvet. “Stella. You made it.” Stella looked like murder. Her aura was so dark and heavy it could crush coal into diamonds. She completely ignored Sebastian. Her eyes frantically scanned the room, hunting for something. Sebastian’s polite smile faltered slightly. “Stella? Are your eyes swollen? Have you not been sleeping?” Hearing that, I looked up from the shadows near the bar. He was right. Her beautiful, striking eyes were red and puffy. I scoffed internally. Was seeing Sebastian again really that overwhelming? She actually cried over him? Stella acted like Sebastian hadn’t even spoken. Her desperate gaze snapped onto me, locking on like a laser. 5 The entire room watched in absolute, breathless silence. Stella walked straight past Sebastian and stopped right in front of me. Then, the ice queen shattered. A dazzling, breathtaking smile bloomed on her face, making the entire room feel like a summer morning. She reached out her delicate hands and grabbed my collar. “Honey,” she whispered, her voice like warm honey, “that’s not how you tie a half-Windsor.” With practiced, intimate movements, she undid my messy knot and expertly retied it. I stood there holding my scotch, utterly paralyzed. Who was this woman? Eight years. Eight miserable years, and she had never once called me anything affectionate in public. And now, standing three feet away from the love of her life, she was adjusting my tie and calling me honey? Was she actively trying to get me murdered? I opened my mouth to stop the madness, but Stella was putting on the performance of a lifetime. She smoothly looped her arm through mine, pressing against my side. She looked out at the sea of shocked faces, her smile radiant.

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1 I went to a private school with my junior colleague Luke to configure their network. My bladder was bursting, so I used the first-floor restroom. On payday, instead of my twenty-five-thousand-dollar commission, I received a ten-thousand-dollar fine. Our newly appointed manager, Marcus, pointed his finger right at my nose, screaming. “Luke told me everything! You using the client’s restroom is just taking advantage of them. It completely ruins our reputation as a premium network service company!” “Using a client’s resources carries a fine of one thousand dollars a minute! You were in there for ten minutes, so that’s a ten-thousand-dollar penalty, and all your commissions are confiscated. Be grateful I’m letting you keep your job because of your seniority!” “We are in the service industry! If you can’t even hold your pee, why are you even working in the field?” These major clients were accounts I had built from the ground up over the past seven years. Every annual renewal was handled personally by me. Now, they were using them as leverage to rob me of my income. Seeing the cold glare in my eyes, Marcus slammed a document onto the desk. “Don’t like it? Then pack your bags and get out! But don’t forget, the service contracts for your accounts specifically name you as the designated technician. If you walk out, not only will we sue you for breach of contract alongside the clients, but we’ll also have you blacklisted from the entire industry!” Looking at his arrogant, sneering face, I let out a cold chuckle. I didn’t argue. But three days later, when those major service contracts were up for renewal, he was the one who panicked. “Don’t look at Marcus like that, Owen,” Luke said, poking his head out from behind Marcus. He put on a perfectly innocent face. “I only reported it because I care about the company. You were in that school restroom for ten whole minutes. The teachers outside were giving us some really weird looks. We’re there to fix their internet, not use their facilities.” I stared at the apprentice I had personally trained. Just last month, when he broke a highly expensive fiber tester in the server room, I was the one who paid out of my own pocket to cover for him. Now, to suck up to the newly appointed manager, he threw me under the bus without a second thought. Marcus crossed his arms, looking down his nose at me. “Hear that? Even the rookie has more professional awareness than you! Owen, you’ve been with this company for seven years, and this is what you’ve degenerated into? Confiscating your twenty-five-thousand-dollar commission and slapping you with a ten-thousand-dollar fine is a mercy. If it were up to me, I’d have fired you on the spot.” The office was dead silent. A dozen or so colleagues sat at their desks, ears perked, soaking in every word. I gripped the paper fine in my hand. “Marcus, the school’s facilities director explicitly told me we were welcome to use the first-floor restroom. How is that taking advantage of a client?” Marcus slammed his hand on the desk. “They were just being polite, and you took them literally? Do you have any concept of professional boundaries? You used their water, you used their paper. Is that not a resource drain? You were freeloading off our client!” The sheer absurdity of his logic made me laugh out loud. Luke quickly chimed in. “Owen, just apologize. Marcus is only trying to enforce proper discipline. We all know you’re getting older and your bladder isn’t what it used to be, but you can’t let your personal health issues ruin the company’s professional image.” A few colleagues who loved playing politics snickered behind their hands. “Seriously, using a client’s bathroom? That’s pretty trashy.” “Seniority doesn’t give you a free pass to behave like a slob.” I looked at their indifferent, mocking faces. Over the past seven years, I had pulled countless all-nighters to fix their mistakes and save their projects. Now, they were the first to throw stones. Marcus, seeing my silence, assumed I was intimidated. He raised his chin triumphantly. “Owen, since you recognize your mistake, you will write a formal apology and pin it to the company-wide chat. Also, starting today, your field transit reimbursements are canceled. That money will go toward compensating for the reputational damage you’ve caused.” Luke picked up the thermos from Marcus’s desk and handed it to him with a groveling smile. “Drink some warm water, boss. I’m sure Owen will reflect on his actions. He’s got a family to support, so he knows better than to bite the hand that feeds him.” I watched their little performance in silence. Arguing with fools was a waste of breath. I folded the fine and slipped it into my pocket. “Fine. Deduct the money. And I won’t file for travel reimbursements.” Marcus blinked, taken aback. He hadn’t expected the most headstrong engineer in the department to capitulate so easily. He let out a cold snort. “Smart move. Get that apology into the chat before the end of the day. A hundred-dollar penalty for every hour it’s late.” I didn’t bother replying. I turned and walked straight back to my desk. Behind me, Luke called out in a mocking, singsong voice, “Owen, if you need help writing that apology, there are plenty of templates online. Just don’t embarrass our department with bad grammar.” 2 My computer screen lit up, and the messaging icon in the bottom right corner began to blink. It was a message from Preston, the CEO of Aegis Networks, our primary competitor. “Owen, have you given any thought to my offer? If you join us, I’ll double your base salary and put you on our highest commission tier.” Looking at the message, a cold smile played on my lips. Aegis was a rapidly growing firm in the city, and they had been trying to recruit me for over a year. Out of loyalty to my current employer, I had always politely declined. “Mr. Preston, I’ll report to your office in three days.” A handshake emoji popped up instantly. “Fantastic! I’ll have HR draft your contract right away.” Locking my phone, I felt an incredible weight lift off my chest. For seven years, I had worked myself to the bone. To hit our department targets, I had lived in freezing server rooms even when I was running a high fever. But now, since Marcus wanted to play by these ridiculous rules, I would show him how well I could follow them. At three in the afternoon, Luke ran over to my desk, drenched in sweat and looking panicked. “Owen, the network at the Southside Plaza is completely down. I’ve been troubleshooting for hours and can’t figure it out. The client is losing his mind. You need to come with me right now.” I leaned back in my chair, not even bothering to look at him. “No.” Luke froze. “Owen, stop throwing a tantrum. This is a massive account, and the owner has a terrible temper. If he files a formal complaint with Marcus, we’re both screwed.” I picked up my mug, gently blowing on the steaming tea. “Marcus canceled my travel reimbursements this morning. He also made it clear that my aging bladder makes me unfit for field work. I think a demanding, high-profile task like this is best left to a capable young man like yourself.” Luke stomped his foot in frustration. “Owen! How can you be so petty? We’re a team. You can’t just leave me hanging!” I set my tea down, my eyes calm. “Go ask Marcus. If he signs a formal emergency dispatch order, I’ll leave immediately.” Luke grit his teeth and ran toward the manager’s office. Two minutes later, he trudged back, looking utterly defeated. Marcus didn’t know the first thing about network engineering; his only solution was telling Luke to figure it out himself. At exactly six, the moment the clock struck end-of-day, I saved my files, shut down my computer, and picked up my backpack. My colleagues stared at me in disbelief. Normally, I was the last one to leave the office. Luke, still pulling his hair out in front of his monitor, called out frantically, “Owen! You can’t leave! The Southside server room is still dead!” I didn’t turn around. “My shift is over. See you tomorrow.” Walking out of the office building, the evening breeze felt incredibly refreshing. At eight-thirty that night, I was sitting on my sofa, enjoying an old movie, when my phone began to buzz violently. The department group chat was blowing up with messages from Luke. “@Owen, please pick up your phone! The Southside system is totally paralyzed! The entire commercial street has no internet! The client says if we don’t fix it tonight, they’re terminating the contract and demanding a full refund!” Right after, Marcus’s name flashed on my screen. I put the phone on silent, letting it ring out three times before I finally answered. The moment I pressed accept, Marcus’s furious roar blasted through the speaker. “Owen! Get your ass down to the Southside server room right now! For every minute you’re late, I’m docking a week’s pay!” I pulled the phone slightly away from my ear. “Is there a problem, Marcus?” 3 “Don’t play dumb with me!” Marcus screamed over the line. “The client is ready to smash our equipment! Grab a cab and get down there now!” I swallowed a bite of my dinner, chewing slowly before replying. “Marcus, it is currently 8:35 PM. That falls well within my personal, off-the-clock hours. Furthermore, you personally stripped me of my field privileges this morning. Have you forgotten?” “I am your manager, and you will do as you’re told!” he shrieked. “I am ordering you to go! This is an emergency work requirement!” I wiped my mouth with a napkin. “According to Section 3, Article 5 of the employee handbook, any non-emergency overtime after hours must be approved in writing by a department head, guaranteeing time-and-a-half pay. Where is my digital approval slip?” The line went dead quiet. It took him several seconds to find his voice, his teeth practically grinding together. “Fine, Owen. You think you’re clever, don’t you? Just wait until tomorrow.” He slammed the phone down. The next morning, I clocked in right on time. The atmosphere in the office was suffocatingly tense. Luke was slumped over his desk with deep dark circles under his eyes, looking half-dead after pulling an all-nighter at Southside. Marcus stormed out of his office with a thick stack of papers, his face dark. “Everyone, conference room. Morning meeting, now!” He threw the documents onto the table with a loud slam. “Some people in this department think that just because they have seniority and a bit of technical know-how, they are above the team! Our clients lose money, and they’re snoring away at home! Starting today, we have a new policy: everyone must keep their phones active after hours. If you fail to respond to a call within ten minutes, you’ll be fined five hundred dollars!” My colleagues exchanged uneasy glances, but under his oppressive gaze, no one dared to speak up. Satisfied with the silence, Marcus cleared his throat. “Additionally, I’d like to introduce a new member of our team.” He turned to the door, and a young man with bleached yellow hair and expensive streetwear sauntered in. He cast a dismissive, arrogant glance over the room. The scowl on Marcus’s face instantly dissolved into a sycophantic grin. “This is our new Project Manager, Thomas. Thomas is young, but he has a brilliant mind and comes to us from a top-tier corporation. I expect everyone to fully cooperate with him.” Someone whispered in the back, “Thomas? Isn’t that Marcus’s nephew?” Marcus shot a lethal glare in that direction, then turned his gaze slowly to me. “Owen. Your accounts that are up for renewal, especially Apex Enterprises, are being reassigned to Thomas starting today. For the next few days, you don’t need to do any actual field work. Just shadow Thomas and teach him how to manage these high-profile clients.” I saw right through it. Apex Enterprises was a multi-million-dollar account. Signing their renewal would net a massive commission, easily reaching six figures. Marcus wanted to steal my hard work and hand the glory directly to his nephew. Thomas walked over to my desk, looking me up and down. “Let me see the renewal proposal you drafted for Apex.” I opened my laptop and pulled up the document I had prepared weeks ago. Thomas stared at the screen for less than a minute before scoffing. “What is this garbage? You honestly expect to present this outdated junk to Mr. Caldwell at the bidding conference?” 4 Luke scrambled over, eagerly placing a cup of freshly brewed coffee in front of Thomas. “You took the words right out of my mouth, Thomas. Owen’s getting older, and his thinking is completely rigid. He relies entirely on outdated methods. These days, winning clients is all about synergy, ecosystem matrices, and underlying paradigms. His proposal is practically prehistoric. If you ask me, we should approach it like this…” I watched Luke spin a web of meaningless corporate buzzwords. Stepping back, I raised my hands in mock surrender. “Since you find my proposal so lacking, Thomas, I’ll happily step back and let you take full charge of the negotiations. My old-school brain clearly can’t keep up with your modern pace. To ensure I don’t hold the company back, I’m washing my hands of the Apex project.” Thomas smirked, raising an eyebrow. “At least you know your place. Without you dragging us down, I’ll close this deal with my eyes shut.” “Thomas is a true leader,” Luke gushed. “Incredibly decisive.” For the next couple of days, I clocked in and out exactly on time. While Thomas and Luke locked themselves in the conference room trying to construct their absurd “ecosystem matrix,” the office fell into complete disarray. Finally, the last day of our current service contract arrived. I pulled out a cardboard box and began packing my personal belongings. My colleagues whispered and watched me out of the corners of their eyes. Marcus stepped out of his office, letting out a mocking sneer at the sight. “Well, well, Owen. What’s all this? Throwing a tantrum and packing your bags to gain sympathy?” He walked over, tapping his knuckles against my desk. “Let me tell you, your little guilt trips won’t work on me.” I carefully placed my small desk succulent into the box and brushed the dust off my hands. “Actually, Marcus, since our service contracts are officially up today, I’ve decided to resign. Best of luck with everything.” I picked up my box and walked out. Behind me, the glass doors slid shut, cutting off Marcus’s frantic, angry shouting. The following morning at nine, I stood in the sleek lobby of Aegis Networks, dressed in a sharp suit. Preston was waiting at the entrance alongside his entire executive team. “Welcome aboard, Director Owen,” Preston said, shaking my hand warmly. By two in the afternoon, I was sitting in the main conference room of Apex Enterprises. The air conditioning was running high, keeping the room icy cool. As the representative of Aegis Networks, I had arrived early, sitting quietly at the far, dimly lit corner of the long table, adjusting data on my tablet. When Thomas and Luke swaggered into the room with their team, they didn’t even notice me. I watched them take their seats opposite me. While sorting through his papers, Luke happened to glance across the table. The moment he saw my face, his entire body froze, and the pen in his hand slipped, clattering onto the desk. He frantically nudged Thomas. Within seconds, both of them were squirming in their seats, their faces turning a visible shade of pale. Just then, the conference room doors swung open again. Marcus strode in, finishing up a phone call and taking his place at the head of their team, ready to dominate the presentation. But as soon as he sat down, he noticed the terrified expressions on his team’s faces. Following Luke’s trembling gaze, his eyes locked onto mine. Marcus stared, not even registering the Aegis Networks nameplate sitting in front of me. His face contorted with rage. He slammed his hand onto the table, pointing a finger directly at my face in front of everyone in the room. “Owen?! Are you out of your mind?” he shrieked. “You’re a fired piece of trash! How dare you sneak into an Apex boardroom? Have you no shame? Get the hell out of here right now!”

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My brother called me the family’s most boring person—because I always cried at his pranks. When he mashed gum into my hair, I cried. When he yanked my chair, fracturing my tailbone, I cried for two months flat on my stomach. Mom and Dad brushed it off. “Boys will be boys,” they said. “Learn to take a joke. You’re cold and unloving as an older sister.” So I stopped crying. Even when he piled food onto my plate at dinner, I forced a grateful smile. But he’d mixed in a heavy spoonful of peanut butter. The second I shut my bedroom door, invisible hands crushed my throat. I couldn’t breathe. Angry red hives erupted, burning like fire. I collapsed onto my bed, phone glowing in the dark. My Safari history showed one desperate search: “Can a peanut allergy kill you?” Consciousness faded. Through the wall, my brother laughed at his video game. In the living room, Mom and Dad watched a sitcom. No one cared what I did behind my closed door. No one knew their daughter was dying. In my next life, I don’t want to be a cruel joke’s punchline. I want to be treated like a human being. Even once. 1 “Ivy, come out and eat right now!” My mother’s voice pierced through the wooden door, dripping with irritation. I did not move. It was not because I was giving her the silent treatment. I physically could not move. My body felt like it was filled with wet cement. Every single muscle burned with a terrifying heat. I could feel the skin on my face stretching. My eyes were swollen shut into tiny, useless slits. My lips were completely engorged, so thick I could neither open nor close my mouth. My throat felt like someone had shoved burning coals down it. Every attempt to pull in oxygen felt like swallowing razor blades. “Ivy, are you deaf? I said dinner is ready!” She yelled again. Louder this time. I could hear the sharp edge of anger in her tone. Her patience was already gone. “Mom, she is just throwing a fit again.” My brother Cole’s voice drifted over from the dining table. He sounded entirely relaxed, like he was talking about the weather. “I just mixed a little peanut butter into her food. I just wanted to play a prank on her.” A prank. He said it so casually. As if sneaking peanut butter into the meal of someone with a deadly allergy was exactly the same as putting salt in a sugar bowl. Just a fun little science experiment. “Cole, you know your sister is allergic. Why would you do that?” My mother’s voice carried zero actual blame. It was just a mild, helpless complaint. “I just wanted to see what happened.” Cole sounded completely justified. “The books make it sound so scary. I bet they were just exaggerating.” “Alright, enough.” My mother cut him off. “Ivy, come out and eat your dinner. Stop being so petty with your brother.” I gave no response. I was not being stubborn. My tongue had swollen to twice its size. The entire inside of my mouth was inflamed. I tried to force my jaw open, but all that came out was a pathetic, muffled whimper. Like a stray cat that had just been hit by a car. “Ivy, I am warning you. Do not test my temper today.” My mother’s voice turned harsh. “If you refuse to eat, you are going to starve. Do not expect us to bring you a plate.” Her footsteps retreated from my door. The clinking of silverware against porcelain echoed from the living room. They had started eating. The perfect family of three. Without me. I lay paralyzed on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. There was a faint water stain right above me, shaped vaguely like a butterfly. I had stared at that stain countless times growing up. Whenever I felt overwhelmed, I would look at it until the tears stopped. But this time, the tears leaked out of my swollen eyes and rolled down my burning cheeks. Breathing was becoming impossible. I could hear the frantic pounding of my own heart. Thump. Thump. Thump. Like someone desperately banging on a door that would never open. My phone slipped from my numb fingers and hit the carpet. I let my eyes fall shut. Whatever. Let it end. Nobody cared anyway. When my soul finally drifted out of my body, my very first thought was strangely calm. So this is what dying feels like. 2 Every ounce of pain and suffocation vanished in a split second. I floated up near the ceiling, looking down at my own body on the bed. The girl lying there had her head twisted at an unnatural angle. Her face was swollen beyond recognition. Her lips had turned a sickening shade of dark purple. Her arms were covered in a horrific rash. The phone lay discarded on the floor, the screen still brightly lit. The search engine was stuck on the very last thing I tried to read before I died. “Emergency first aid for anaphylactic shock.” I floated right through my bedroom door. I drifted through the solid wood that nobody had bothered to knock on. In the living room, my mother was sitting on the sofa, scrolling through her phone. The coffee table was covered in half eaten dishes. Roast chicken, a green bean casserole, and a bowl of mashed potatoes. There was a full plate sitting at my usual spot. My mother had not cleared it away. A fork was still resting on the edge of the plate. She had no idea I would never take another bite of food in my life. My father, David, sat beside her watching the evening news. The meteorologist on the screen was predicting heavy rain for tomorrow. “Ivy is still not coming out?” He asked casually, not even taking his eyes off the television. “Ignore her. You spoil her too much.” My mother kept her eyes glued to her screen, her thumb swiping mindlessly. “Cole just played a harmless joke on her. Is she really going to drag this out?” “Whether she is dragging it out or not, the kid is allergic. You know that.” My father’s tone was completely flat. No panic. No concern. He might as well have been saying the milk was expired. “How bad could an allergy really be? It is not like she drank rat poison.” My mother frowned in annoyance. “She is just dramatic. She has been like this since she was little. The second she does not get her way, she locks herself in her room.” “Look at Cole. He is such a bright, happy kid. But having her around forces him to walk on eggshells.” Floating nearby, I actually wanted to laugh. Cole walked on eggshells? He certainly did not look nervous when he used my toothbrush to scrub the toilet bowl. He laughed louder than anyone when he snuck to the breaker box and cut the hot water while I was showering in the dead of winter. I was the one living in that house like I was navigating a minefield. He lived like a king who could do whatever he pleased. The only difference was who our parents chose to believe. “Fine, I will go check on her.” My mother finally put her phone down and stood up from the couch. I drifted behind her as she walked to my bedroom door. She pushed it open just a crack. The room was pitch black. The curtains were drawn tight. She could barely make out a curled up silhouette on the mattress. “Ivy, are you coming out to eat or not?” I did not move. I was already dead. “Alright, stop faking it.” Her voice grew even more exasperated. “If you are not eating, I am throwing it away. Do not come crying to me that you are hungry at midnight.” She waited for three seconds. The figure on the bed gave no response. “You are absolutely infuriating.” She slammed the door shut. Her footsteps marched back down the hall. She left. She did not take two steps inside. She did not flip the light switch to look at my face. If she had, she would have seen my deep purple lips. She would have touched my hand and realized it was already turning cold. But she just stood at the threshold. Ten feet away. Tossed out a few annoyed words. And walked away. I hovered in the hallway, staring at the closed door. “Mom, is she still not coming out?” Cole chewed on a chicken wing, his mouth shining with grease. He glanced down the hall toward my room. “Who knows with her. She is just throwing a pity party.” My mother started clearing the table. She scraped the leftover chicken into the trash. She picked up my untouched plate, stared at it for a second. She hesitated briefly. Then scraped it right into the garbage too. “Is she seriously mad?” Cole’s voice held a tiny fraction of guilt. But it vanished instantly. “I literally just put a drop of peanut butter in her food. Is she really going to overreact this much?” “Overreact or not, you know she has that allergy.” My mother stacked the dirty plates and carried them to the sink. “Just do not do stuff like that again.” That was it. No punishment. No lecture. No screaming that he could have killed his sister. Just a casual “do not do that again”. Spoken with the exact same weight as telling him not to leave his dirty socks on the floor. I watched the whole exchange. My chest felt strange. A deep, hollow ache. I was already dead. I had no heartbeat. So why did it still hurt? 3 “Mom, do you think she is actually sick or something?” Cole’s voice dropped lower. “What could possibly be wrong with her?” My mother turned on the faucet. The loud rush of water drowned out her words. “Your sister has done this her whole life. The slightest inconvenience and she plays dead.” She paused to scrub a plate. “Remember when you pulled her chair out? She laid in bed for two months claiming she was hurt. And she was perfectly fine in the end, was she not?” My soul drifted into Cole’s bedroom. His dual monitors were glowing brightly. A multiplayer shooter game was paused on the screen. He was leaning back in his expensive gaming chair, a lollipop in his mouth. His phone buzzed. A text from his friend. “Yo, how is your sister?” Cole typed back quickly. “She is fine. Just playing dead for attention like always.” “Your mom didn’t chew you out?” “Nah, my mom knows she is just a drama queen.” “Nice. We will have to think of a better prank next time. Lol.” “Yeah, next time I am going to steal her final project so she fails her class.” “Lmaooo you are a menace.” I stared at the glowing chat bubbles. Something shattered deep inside my chest. It was not anger. It was something much colder than anger. It was absolute, suffocating despair. The realization that in their eyes, I was not even a human being. I was just a toy. A prop for their amusement. Something they could break without ever worrying about the consequences. Because my parents would never punish him. They would always, always take his side. I turned around and floated out of his room. I did not want to hear his laughter anymore. I did not want to know how else they planned to humiliate me. I was dead. None of this should matter to me anymore. But why did it still sting? Later that night, my mother came back to my door. This time, she knocked. “Ivy, come out and take your shower.” No response. “If you do not answer me, I am coming in.” Still no response. She pushed the door open. The room was pitch black. She reached her hand in and flicked the light switch. The bright overhead bulb flooded the room. My corpse was still lying exactly where I collapsed. My posture had not shifted an inch since the afternoon. My face was even more grotesquely swollen now. My lips were a horrifying, bruised plum color. My fingers were curled inward, stiff and rigid like claws. My mother stood in the doorway. She took one look at me and frowned deeply. “Are you seriously still putting on this act?” She did not step closer. She stood at the doorway, her arms crossed defensively over her chest. Less than ten feet away. Ten feet. Her daughter was dead. Her dead child was lying ten feet away from her. She stared at me for three agonizing seconds. Then she turned around and walked away. “Ivy, I am telling you right now, if you do not get up, I am taking your phone tomorrow.” Her voice echoed down the hall. She never looked back. She never hesitated. She just walked away. I hovered right above my own bed. Looking down at my ruined body. I looked so disfigured I barely recognized myself. Mom. You did not recognize me either. But that is because you never really looked at me to begin with. Whenever you looked at me, your eyes were always filled with impatience. You always thought I was complaining, whining, faking it. You never once considered the possibility. That one day, I might actually die. Even when I was lying dead right in front of you, you refused to believe it. By ten o’clock, my father went to take his shower. My mother was back on the couch, watching a reality TV show. The television blared with canned laugh tracks. Hahaha. Hahaha. It echoed loudly through the house. Cole was back in his room, violently mashing his keyboard. He was in a voice call with his buddies. “Dude, that sniper is camping in the back!” “Revive me, revive me, I am down!” “Hahaha, we destroyed him.” Their laughter seeped through the walls. I floated in the empty hallway. Listening to the noise. It felt incredibly ironic. In this house. Every single person was smiling. And not a single one of them knew. That this family was missing a person. Forever. At eleven o’clock, my mother turned off the TV. She went to brush her teeth. As she walked past my bedroom, she paused. “Ivy, are you really…” She pushed the door open slightly. The lights were still glaringly bright. I was still lying there, frozen in the exact same position. She stood at the threshold and let out a heavy sigh. “You are impossible.” She reached out and flicked the light off. Click. The room plunged back into total darkness. My soul stood in the black void. Looking down at my own corpse. I suddenly remembered a true crime article I had read on Reddit a few weeks ago. It discussed how long it took for someone to be discovered if they died alone in their house. 4 Some people in the comments said three days. Some said a week. Some said it depended entirely on when the neighbors complained about the smell. I remembered reading that and thinking to myself. That would never happen to me. I lived with my parents and my brother. No matter how bad things got, they would definitely notice if I died, right? Now I knew the truth. They would not. They would just assume I was throwing a tantrum. Sulking, whining, acting out. Faking it. Even if I was dead. They still would not believe it. The next morning, my mother woke up to make breakfast. The sound of sizzling bacon drifted from the kitchen. The smell of food floated down the hall. It used to be my favorite smell in the world. “Ivy, get up, you are going to be late for school.” My mother yelled from the stove. No response. “Ivy!” Still nothing. “Unbelievable. Every single day it is a battle with her.” She walked out holding a plate of bacon. She glanced down the hallway. She did not walk toward my room. “Cole, go wake your sister up.” Cole walked out of his room, stretching casually. “Why should I? She will get up when she wants to.” “Just go knock on her door.” “No way.” He did not even spare a glance in my direction. My mother stood by the dining table. She looked at my empty seat. She pulled out her phone and sent me a furious text message. “Are you getting up or not? If you miss the bus, I am not driving you.” The message delivered. Silence. She sent another one. “Ivy, do not push me today.” Still silence. She slammed her phone down onto the table. “She is trying to give me a heart attack.” She grabbed her purse and her keys. And she left for work. The house fell completely, suffocatingly quiet. Leaving just me. Lying in the dark bedroom. My phone was still on the floor. The corner of the screen was cracked. Notifications began to pile up on the lock screen. Texts from my mother. A missed call from my homeroom teacher. Messages from classmates asking for homework answers. Nobody realized. That the owner of this phone. Would never reply to another message again. At ten o’clock in the morning, my homeroom teacher finally called my mother. My mother picked up. “Mrs. Astor, Ivy did not show up to homeroom today. Is everything alright?” “What? She is not at school?” “No, she never arrived.” “That stubborn girl…” My mother’s voice was laced with pure fury. “She was throwing a tantrum last night and locked herself in her room. I assumed she just walked to the bus stop on her own this morning.” “You should really go home and check on her, Mrs. Astor.” “Fine. I will handle it.” She hung up the phone. She did not rush home immediately. She told her boss she had a family issue, finished writing her morning report, and packed up slowly. It was noon by the time she finally drove home. As she unlocked the front door, she was already yelling. “Ivy, get out here right now. You have crossed the line today.” She stomped down the hallway to my door. She pushed it open. The lights were off. The curtains were still drawn tightly shut. The room was pitch black. She reached for the switch and flipped it. The lights hummed to life. I was still on the bed. Frozen in the exact same position I had been in since yesterday. Still wearing my clothes from yesterday. The swelling in my face had gone down slightly. But my lips were significantly darker now. A deep, horrifying blackish purple. “Ivy?” My mother’s voice faltered. She finally sensed something was horribly wrong. I had never skipped school to prove a point. No matter how angry I was, I never skipped class. Because I knew the punishment for skipping school would be ten times worse than whatever I was currently enduring. So I always woke up on time. I always caught the bus. No matter how sick or miserable I felt. But today, I did not get up. My mother finally stepped into the room. She walked slowly to the edge of the bed. She reached out and shoved my shoulder. “Ivy? Stop trying to scare me…” My body shifted slightly under her weight. It was stiff. Freezing cold. Like pushing a heavy boulder. My mother’s hand snatched back like she had been burned. She stared down at my face. She stared at my distorted, disfigured features. The blackened lips. The rigid, clawed fingers. Her pupils dilated violently, consuming her entire iris in sheer terror. “Ivy!!”

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For three years, I played the perfect invisible wife at Sebastian Cross’s side. Everyone knew Sebastian was devoted to his childhood sweetheart, Evelyn — and that he treated his actual wife like she was nothing. What no one knew was that I could hear Sebastian’s thoughts. He’d mock me out loud, calling me “worthless.” But in his head, he was screaming, Look at me, baby. I told myself that if I just held on long enough, I could melt the ice around his heart. Then came the charity auction. He took the piece I treasured most — my late mother’s work — bought it without a second thought, and handed it to Evelyn. In the argument that followed, I lost my voice. Permanently. With nothing left inside me, I slid the divorce papers across the table and walked away. And Sebastian — the untouchable, all-powerful Sebastian Cross — stood alone in that empty mansion and completely fell apart. The lights blazed inside Veridian City’s most prestigious charity gala. My eyes were locked on the necklace displayed on the stage — a sapphire piece called Blue Reverie. It was my design. Three sleepless nights of work, poured into every detail for this event. “Five million dollars.” A low, cold voice cut through the silence of the hall. The room erupted. Every head turned toward the man sitting beside me. Sebastian Cross — the youngest powerhouse in Veridian City’s business world. And my husband. I looked at him, caught off guard. Sebastian’s profile was half-swallowed by shadow, his jaw sharp, his expression unreadable. Murmurs rippled through the crowd around us. “Mr. Cross really does look out for Mrs. Cross — five million for his wife’s work? That’s his way of showing support.” “Who said Mr. Cross and Mrs. Cross had a bad marriage? He just threw five million dollars at her.” Something stirred in my chest. A feeling I hadn’t felt in a long time. Three years of marriage, and he’d rarely given me any dignity in public. Was tonight different? Was this for me? The moment the host’s gavel came down and announced Sebastian as the winning bidder, he stood up. He took the gleaming necklace from the presenter — and didn’t walk toward me. He walked straight to the front row, to a woman in a white gown, delicate and fragile as a wilting flower. Evelyn. Sebastian’s childhood sweetheart. The daughter of his late mentor. “Evie.” Sebastian’s voice was quiet, but the people nearby could hear every word. “The color of this necklace suits your complexion perfectly.” Evelyn covered her mouth, her eyes going glassy. “Seb, this is too much — and this is Ellie’s work. She put so much into it…” Sebastian let out a short, contemptuous laugh. His gaze swept over me, cold and dismissive. “Her work?” His lip curled. “It’s cheap. Tacky. The kind of thing that doesn’t belong in a room like this. Consider it a little toy.” “Put it on. I won’t say it twice.” The whispers around us flipped in an instant — each one landing like a slap across my face. “So he bought it for Evelyn…” “God, poor Mrs. Cross. Her own husband buys her work just to give it to another woman — and then tears it apart in front of everyone.” I pressed my hands into fists at my sides, my nails cutting into my palms. And then Sebastian’s inner voice detonated in my ear. 【That necklace my wife designed — no one else was getting their hands on it. I wasn’t about to let some other man walk away with it tonight.】 【Evie’s just holding onto it for me. She ran interference with the drinks all evening — this is just me being polite. The second we get home, I’m taking it back and putting it on my wife myself.】 【Baby, look at me! I just spent five million dollars on your design. Aren’t you even a little touched?】 I stared at his cold, hard face. I listened to him gloating in his own head, practically bouncing with pride. Three years. For three years, I had forgiven every cruel thing that came out of his mouth — because I could hear what was underneath it. I told myself he was just guarded. That he didn’t know how to show what he felt. That a difficult childhood had twisted the way he expressed himself. I told myself I could fix him. But now, watching Blue Reverie — my necklace — rest against Evelyn’s collarbone, I felt something in me go very, very quiet. I was exhausted. This push and pull, this gap between what he said and what he thought — I was done with it. I stood up. I walked toward him, meeting his startled gaze head-on. “Since Sebastian thinks my work is so cheap,” I said, my voice steady, “then stop torturing yourself. Stop being tied to someone as cheap as me.” “I want a divorce.”

Sebastian’s pupils contracted sharply. Evelyn let out a soft gasp and leaned into Sebastian’s side, her voice trembling. “Ellie, please don’t be upset — this is my fault. I never should have accepted it. Don’t say things like that. You’re not serious…” Sebastian grabbed Evelyn to steady her, his expression darkening instantly. “Elodie, what the hell is wrong with you?” “Making a scene over something this small — where are your manners? Without me, who would ever want a useless woman like you?” His words cut like poison-tipped blades. But his inner voice was trembling wildly. [Why does she want a divorce? Is she jealous?] [I already told her this is just a toy! How could she just walk away from me in front of all these people!] [Baby, please — don’t say things you don’t mean. It’s killing me.] I looked at him calmly, without softening the way I used to whenever I heard his thoughts. “Sebastian, I know exactly what I’m doing.” “I’ll have my lawyer send the papers to your office tomorrow.” With that, I turned and walked out of the venue. I didn’t look back at Sebastian’s ashen face or the curious stares from the crowd. I returned to the empty villa and dragged out my suitcase, starting to pack. I didn’t have much. Three years of marriage, and I’d lived like a guest who was only passing through. Half the closet was filled with Sebastian’s tailored suits. The other half held a few simple outfits of mine. I didn’t take a single thing that was his — just a few of my own old clothes. Finally, I walked to the study, opened the safe, and took out a worn, yellowed sketchbook. It was the only thing my mother had left me — filled with unfinished jewelry designs she’d drawn before she passed. I had just placed the sketchbook into the suitcase when the front door was kicked open with a violent bang. Sebastian stormed in, cold fury radiating off him, with Evelyn trailing close behind. His eyes landed on the suitcase sitting on the floor. A flash of panic crossed his face — but it was quickly buried under rage. “Elodie, look at you. You actually packed your bags?” His inner voice was deafening. [She’s really leaving? She already packed everything?] [No. I won’t allow it. What am I supposed to do if she’s gone?] [Baby, don’t go. I got the necklace back — just look at it, please.] He glared at me, but what came out of his mouth was: “You think I’d care if you left? You were nothing but a prop I used to keep my father off my back.” I zipped up the suitcase, my voice completely flat. “If I’m just a prop, then you should be glad the prop is resigning.” I pulled my luggage and walked out. Sebastian snatched my wrist, gripping it so hard I thought he might snap the bone. “I didn’t say you could leave. Try walking out that door and see what happens.” Evelyn stepped in, her voice soft and coaxing. “Ellie, don’t be like this. Come on, Seb — didn’t you mention before that you’d let me borrow that sketchbook your mother-in-law left behind? I’m working on a new collection and I’m completely stuck for inspiration…” I spun around and stared at Sebastian, unable to believe what I was hearing. Sebastian hesitated, clearly caught off guard that Evelyn had brought it up now. But with me glaring at him like I wanted to tear him apart, he was too proud to back down. He forced a cold smirk. “So what? Everything you have was provided by the Cross family. If Evie wants to look at it, you hand it over.” My whole body was shaking. I had never been this furious in my life. “Sebastian, you bastard!” I wrenched my wrist free and clutched the suitcase tight. “That belonged to my mother. What gives you the right to hand it to her?” Sebastian’s expression twisted. [I was just saying it — I didn’t actually mean it!] [Don’t look at me like that, baby. It scares me.] [But you’re cursing me out over a stupid notebook. You don’t love me anymore, do you?] Shame curdled into rage. He lunged for the suitcase. “There’s nothing I want that I can’t take. Give it to me.” “No.” We struggled violently at the top of the staircase. Evelyn rushed over to help. “Ellie, stop it — I just wanted to borrow it for a few days…” “Get away from me!” I shoved her hard. Evelyn let out a cry and stumbled back two steps, landing on the floor. The palm of her hand scraped against the ground. “Evie!” Sebastian’s face went white. He spun toward me and shoved me — hard. “Elodie, you vicious bitch!” I had no time to react. My balance vanished, and I fell — straight down the staircase.

In the moment the floor disappeared beneath me, I saw Sebastian’s eyes go wide with terror. Thud — I tumbled down the stairs and hit the bottom hard. My neck slammed into the sharp metal edge of the art sculpture standing in the first-floor living room. A searing, tearing pain exploded from my throat and spread through my entire body. The agony nearly knocked me unconscious on the spot. I lay face-down on the floor, gasping desperately for air, but it felt like my lungs had sprung a leak. Warm liquid poured from my neck in a torrent, soaking into the wool carpet beneath me, turning it a deep, vivid red. “Ellie!” Sebastian came flying down the stairs like a madman, dropping to his knees beside me, frantically trying to press his hands over my wound. His hands were shaking. His whole body was shaking. His inner voice was nothing but desperate, anguished cries. [My wife! You’re bleeding so much!] [How did this happen? I didn’t mean to — I didn’t mean to push you!] [Please don’t scare me like this. I’m begging you, don’t scare me!] I opened my mouth, trying to say it hurts — trying to say help me. But no sound would come from my throat. Only broken, ragged breaths, and the nauseating stench of blood. “Seb… it hurts so much…” At the top of the stairs, Evelyn cradled her scraped hand, her eyes glistening with tears. Sebastian froze. He looked at me. Then he looked at Evelyn. His inner voice tore itself apart. [My wife is badly hurt — I need to get her to the hospital!] [But Evie’s hand… she’s a pianist. My teacher entrusted her to me on his deathbed. If her hand is ruined, how could I ever face him?] [My wife’s injury is just surface-level. Evie’s hand can’t wait.] Sebastian clenched his jaw and shot to his feet. He stood over me — over my body lying in a pool of blood — and looked down with eyes cold enough to cut glass. “Elodie, you brought this on yourself.” “If anything happens to Evie’s hand, I’ll make you pay for it.” He turned away. Without a moment’s hesitation, he scooped Evelyn into his arms and strode out of the house. The front door slammed shut behind him, sealing me off from the rest of the world. I stared after him, eyes wide with despair, watching him disappear. The blood kept flowing from my throat. I tried to drag myself toward my phone, lying just a few feet away. But the pain had drained every last drop of strength from my body. All I could do was lie there as my vision slowly, steadily blurred. So that was how little I meant to him. I wasn’t even worth as much as a scratch on Evelyn’s hand. Sebastian. You win. I’m done. In the final second before the darkness swallowed me whole, one thing flashed through my mind — something he had said to me once. “Elodie, I’m the one who gave you this life. You owe me a debt you’ll spend every lifetime repaying. You’ll never leave my side.” When I opened my eyes again, everything was blindingly white. The sharp smell of antiseptic filled my nose. I shifted slightly, and a stabbing pain tore through my throat. “You’re awake?” Sebastian’s hoarse voice came from beside the bed. I turned my head. His eyes were raw and red from sleepless nights, dark stubble shadowing his jaw. He looked completely wrecked. The moment he saw my eyes open, he lurched to his feet, reaching toward me — then stopping himself, like he was afraid to touch me. “You… how do you feel? Does it still hurt?” There was a tremor in his voice that he probably didn’t even notice himself. His inner voice came rushing in like a tide. [She’s finally awake. God, I was terrified — I thought I was going to lose her.] [The doctor said her vocal cords are damaged… This is all my fault. I deserve to rot for this.] [Yell at me. Hit me. Just please, please don’t look at me like that — like you’re already dead inside.] I looked at him in silence. There was nothing stirring in my chest. No anger. No hurt. Just a stillness, flat and cold as standing water. I opened my mouth and tried to speak. No matter how hard I pushed, the only thing that came out of my throat was a faint, hollow hiss of air. I went still. The color drained from Sebastian’s face in an instant. He grabbed my shoulders, his voice urgent. “Don’t try to talk. The doctor said your vocal cords are injured — you need to rest.” I watched his eyes slide away from mine, and a quiet dread settled in my chest. I reached for my phone on the nightstand. Sebastian moved to stop me, but I pulled away from his hand and grabbed it myself. I opened the notes app and typed. My throat. What’s wrong with it? I held the screen up in front of him. Sebastian stared at it. His throat worked as he swallowed hard. “It’s just… temporary. You’ll get your voice back in time. I’ve already found the best doctors — they’ll fix this. I promise.” He was lying. I could hear it in his thoughts. [I’m so sorry. The doctor said the damage to your vocal cords is severe. It might be… permanent.] [But I’m not giving up. I don’t care what it costs — I’ll find a way to fix this.] [Please don’t find out the truth. I don’t know if you could take it.] Permanent. I was mute now. Because of the push that sent me falling. Because he had chosen to take Evelyn to get her little scrape bandaged first. I closed my eyes. A single tear slipped down the side of my face. Sebastian panicked, frantically wiping my tears with his hands. “Don’t cry, Ellie, please don’t cry. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have pushed you. I just—” He tried to explain, but no explanation could hold up against what he’d done. I picked up my phone again, typed one word, and held it out to him. Divorce.

Sebastian looked like he’d been struck by lightning. He froze completely. He snatched the phone out of my hand and hurled it at the floor. The screen shattered instantly. “I refuse!” His eyes were bloodshot, wild like an animal driven to rage. “Elodie, don’t you dare think about leaving me! You still owe me. What gives you the right to talk about divorce?!” “You hurt Evie, and you haven’t even apologized to her! You’re not going anywhere!” He lashed out with the cruelest words he could find, trying to hide the sheer panic underneath. [I can’t get divorced. I’d rather die than get divorced.] [If she leaves, what’s the point of any of this?] [I’d rather we tear each other apart. I’d rather she hate me. I’m keeping her by my side no matter what.] I watched him fall apart, cold and unmoved. Without my phone, I didn’t even have a way to argue back. But I knew. My mind was made up. Ten years of loving him in silence. Three years of marriage. It was over. I spent a month in the hospital. For that entire month, Sebastian never left my side. He canceled every social obligation and moved his desk into my hospital room. He clumsily taught himself how to make me chicken soup, how to peel apples for me. The cutting remarks stopped. When he spoke, there was even a careful, almost pleading softness to his voice. If I hadn’t known the truth, I might have actually been moved by how devoted he seemed. But I could hear his thoughts. Every day, the same loop played inside his head — guilt, fear, obsession. [She finished half a bowl of chicken soup today. Does that mean she’s forgiven me a little?] [Why won’t she look at me? Is she planning how to leave?] [I need to upgrade the security at the villa. I can’t let her run.] I watched his one-man show with cold, detached eyes. A month later, I was discharged. Sebastian drove me back to that villa — the one that felt like a cage. He took away my passport and my ID. He even unplugged the router. He watched me like I was a thief he couldn’t take his eyes off. Evelyn came by once. She had a small bandage on her hand. Her eyes swept over the thick gauze wrapped around my neck, and a flicker of satisfaction crossed her face. “Ellie, I’m so sorry. If it weren’t for me, none of this would have happened to you.” “Seb does care about you, you know. Don’t be angry with him — he just gets so worried about me sometimes.” Every word was a claim. Every sentence was a knife sliding between my ribs. I sat in my wheelchair and looked at her, my face completely blank. Sebastian walked in just then, carrying my medication. When he saw Evelyn, his brow furrowed hard. “Who let you in?” Evelyn bit her lip, her expression wounded. “Seb, I just came to check on Ellie…” “Get out.” Sebastian’s voice was ice. Evelyn stared at him in disbelief. “Seb, are you seriously snapping at me?” Sebastian ignored her. He walked straight to me, crouched down, and his tone shifted — suddenly, impossibly gentle. “Ellie. Time for your medicine.” Evelyn stomped her foot and ran out in tears. But Sebastian’s thoughts gave away exactly how irritated he was. [Why is Evie showing up now of all times? What if this sets Elodie off again?] [I’ve worked so hard to keep things calm. I’m not letting anyone ruin that.] I looked at the pills he held out to me, and a wave of disgust hit me so hard I couldn’t breathe. I swung my arm and knocked the medicine bowl out of his hands. The dark liquid splattered all over Sebastian’s shirt. He went still. I pointed at the door. A silent order to get out. Sebastian’s expression shifted. He forced the anger down. “Okay. I’ll go. Don’t get upset — I’ll have someone make a fresh batch.” He stood up and backed out of the room, looking rattled. I knew he was close to his breaking point. He was used to being in control of everything. Used to me falling in line. He wouldn’t be able to keep this up much longer. I needed a chance. A chance to get out.

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The heir to the Manhattan elite added both me and my roommate on Snapchat. He was incredibly warm to me. Yet to Cathy, the gorgeous campus queen, he was ice cold. She looked annoyed. “I thought Dominic was here for me. Can’t believe he is chasing you.” I was over the moon. We dated online for two whole months. But the day we finally met in person, his brows pulled together in a tight frown. “Why is it you?” 1 Dominic Lancaster had the wrong girl. All the affection, the late night calls, and the sweet texts meant for Cathy Shawn he had mistakenly given to me. Instead, he had accidentally ghosted the girl he actually wanted. A soft breeze drifted past. He leaned against his sleek Aston Martin, pinching the bridge of his nose in sheer frustration. He shot me a helpless, almost pitying look. “You should head back. I will text you tonight.” I forced back the tears burning in my eyes. “Okay.” But I was not stupid. Some things were just too cruel to say to a girl’s face. My dorm was empty when I got back. I crawled into bed and fell into a heavy, suffocating sleep. Loud voices woke me up. Cathy stood in the center of the room, clutching a massive bouquet of deep red roses. Our other two roommates were practically shouting over each other. “So it was just a mix up! I knew it. There was no way a guy like him would pass you up for Jenny.” Cathy offered a gentle, practiced smile. “It was just a misunderstanding.” She turned her gaze to me. “Jenny, I am apologizing on Dominic’s behalf. You are not mad, right?” I sat up, forcing my face into a blank mask. “No.” She let out a soft laugh. “Makes sense. It was only two months of texting anyway. You probably did not even like him that much.” 2 Cathy was wrong. I had been secretly in love with Dominic for years. He was three years older than me. By the time I was a freshman, he was a senior and barely ever on campus. It happened right after freshman orientation. He was back at the university to pick up some paperwork. I took a nasty fall on the concrete steps, and he was the one who drove me to the ER. But I was too painfully shy. I never asked for his number. I never even told him my name. After he graduated, he became a ghost. All I knew was that he came from old money, built a massive tech empire from the ground up, and lived in a world of penthouses and private jets. We were from completely different universes. Until recently. At a frat party, he asked for my socials. He was incredibly attentive. We texted from morning until night, and it did not take long for us to make it official. Looking back now, it was a joke. Every ounce of joy, every sweet good morning text, it was all meant for Cathy. My phone lit up. A text from Dominic. He did not waste a single breath. “Let us just end this here.” “Make sure you delete our chat logs. I do not want Cathy seeing any of it.” “To make up for the mix up, my assistant will wire you fifty grand.” Fifty grand. To a broke college student like me, it was life changing money. To him, it was pocket change. He was literally buying my silence. Erasing everything we had. I stared at the glowing screen for a long time before typing out a single word. “Okay.” I paused, then added a follow up. “I will not say a word about our conversations. You have my promise.” But the message bounced back. Not Delivered. He had already blocked me. Staring at that little red exclamation mark, my hands started to shake uncontrollably. I scrolled up. We had talked about everything. When he was in London for business, he sent me photos of his espresso, told me about the investors he hated, and complained about the jet lag. Once, I asked him to help me with a tricky finance assignment. He texted back saying he was in the shower. I teased him. “Prove it.” He actually did. He sent a photo. His hair was dripping wet, water sliding down the sharp, gorgeous angles of his face. He radiated this raw, dangerous magnetism. My face had burned hot. “Okay, delete it before I die of embarrassment.” A second later, he sent a voice note, his voice dark and thick with amusement. “Why are you scared? You will have to look at it every day eventually.” “I will have you know I have never been with anyone. But doing it with you… I think that would be incredibly fun.” I had literally googled what to expect for my first time that very night. Now, looking at those exact words… It was nothing but a humiliating fantasy. 3 I deleted every single message. I stopped googling his tech firm. I stopped reading his Forbes interviews. But I lived in the same cramped dorm as Cathy, and his name was constantly on her lips. She bragged that they were officially a couple. He had asked her out. That night, he rented out an entire VIP cinema for her. When she finally gathered the courage to reach for his hand, he subtly shifted away. “He acts like a total player, but he is weirdly old fashioned,” she complained to us. “Honestly, he makes me a little insecure. He is too perfect. Women throw themselves at him constantly.” I bit my tongue. Dominic was fiercely loyal. He had no messy exes, no female best friends. The only time he ever made a move was when he asked for Cathy’s number. That was how much he wanted her. One of our roommates chimed in. “You should ask him to take you to the Hamptons this weekend. Just the two of you in a hotel suite. Trust me, he will make a move.” “If you are nervous, invite us along! We can be your wingwomen.” I let out a heavy breath, shoved my AirPods in, and cranked the volume to the max. Just then, a girl from down the hall knocked on our open door. “Is Jenny here?” “Rowan Pierce is downstairs looking for you.” The entire room went dead silent. Cathy’s smile completely vanished. Her brows pulled together sharply. “You know Rowan Pierce?” I shook my head. “I have never met him.” But the girl insisted he had specifically asked for me by name. Panicking that something was seriously wrong, I rushed downstairs. 4 Rowan was waiting by the courtyard. Everyone knew exactly who he was. Filthy rich, top of his class, with the kind of lazy, heartbreaker good looks that made girls ruin their lives. Yet, strangely, the guy had never dated anyone. Freshman year, Cathy had sent someone to ask for his number. She was entirely convinced her looks made her invincible. Rowan turned her down flat. Because of that bruised ego, nobody in our dorm was allowed to mention his name. And now, he was leaning against a brick pillar, furiously typing on his phone. He looked extremely irritated. I walked up to him, shrinking a little. “I am sorry, did I keep you waiting?” He clicked his tongue. He looked up. Whatever he was about to say died in his throat. His eyes flickered over my face for a split second before he narrowed them. “You are Jenny?” I nodded. He fell silent. When he finally spoke, his tone was bizarre. “My cousin’s ex girlfriend?” I froze. It took my brain a solid ten seconds to connect the dots. I had only ever been in one relationship. But I had never associated the word ex with Dominic Lancaster. “You mean Dominic?” I asked cautiously. He nodded. “Yeah.” “Hardly anyone on campus knows about us. Please keep it to yourself,” I mumbled. He agreed. Then he pulled a crisp, folded check from his leather jacket. “He told me to give you this.” Right. The payoff. I took it without hesitating and shoved it in my pocket. Just then, his phone rang. I was standing close enough to see the caller ID. Dominic. Rowan did not even bother stepping away. He answered it with a lazy drawl. “Yeah?” Silence on the other end for a beat. “Did you see her?” Under the pale moonlight, Rowan lifted his gaze and stared right at me. “Saw her. Gave her the envelope.” My chest tightened. Dominic was just calling to make sure the transaction was complete. I did not want to hear the rest. I turned around and slipped quietly back into the building. 5 When I pushed the door open, Cathy was standing right by the window. “I thought Rowan Pierce was actually trying to sweep you off your feet,” she said, her voice dripping with venom. “Turns out he was just acting as a delivery boy. He barely even looked at you. What did he hand you anyway?” I stayed quiet. I could hardly tell her it was hush money from her new billionaire boyfriend. “Nothing important.” I grabbed my pajamas and locked myself in the bathroom before she could interrogate me further. When I stepped out, the air in the room was thick with tension. Cathy was doing her skincare routine, her phone on speaker on her desk. She was talking to Dominic. She asked if they could go up to the Hamptons for the weekend. “I will have my assistant book the penthouse suite,” his deep voice replied smoothly. Cathy giggled. “I am going to bring two of my friends along, is that okay?” Over the speaker, the sharp sound of shattering glass echoed through the line. Cathy jumped. “What happened? Are you okay?” Dominic’s voice dropped, sounding a little tight. “Just knocked over a glass. I am fine.” Over the next few days, they called each other every single night. Sometimes the conversations crossed into intimate territory. “Who was your first kiss?” she teased him once. A low, rough chuckle rumbled from the speaker. “Never had one. I have been saving it for you.” Every time they talked, I had to pretend I was deaf, burying my face in my textbooks. I stopped talking to people. Whenever a random guy asked for my number, I would explicitly introduce myself with my full name, terrified of another mistaken identity. By the weekend, Cathy and her two followers packed their designer duffels and left. I finally breathed. But the very next morning, the campus counselor called me in a panic. She needed Cathy for an emergency paperwork issue regarding her scholarship. None of the three girls were answering their phones. “It is extremely urgent. Do you have any way to reach her?” 6 The moment she asked, a cold dread pooled in my stomach. They were with Dominic. What if they had gotten into an accident? My palms started sweating. I had Dominic’s number memorized. I typed it in and hit call. The number you have dialed is unavailable. He really blocked my actual phone number too. He was incredibly thorough. He wanted every trace of my existence completely wiped from his life. Left with no other choice, I sprinted down six flights of stairs to the lobby payphone. By the time I punched in the digits, my lungs were burning. The line rang twice before it connected. I let out a massive sigh of relief and quickly explained that the counselor was desperately trying to reach Cathy. Through the receiver, Dominic’s voice was crisp and detached. “They are down in the restaurant eating breakfast. They left their phones in the room. I will let her know.” “Okay. Thank you.” I was about to slam the receiver down when I heard the distinct click of a metal lighter. Then came his voice, laced with a casual, almost mocking curiosity. “Why did you not come with them?” I froze. A memory hit me like a truck. A month ago, when we were still dating, Dominic had asked if I got along with my roommates. I had not wanted to sound like a loner, so I lied and said we were close. He had asked me about Cathy blowing up his phone, thinking her account was actually mine. I had defended her, saying she was sweet and did not mean to bother him. Every memory that used to feel like a fairytale now felt like acid burning a hole in my chest. I wet my dry lips, preparing to give him a polite, hollow excuse. But before I could speak, a soft voice floated through the phone. Cathy. “Dominic? I am so scared of sleeping alone… can I stay in your suite tonight? I can just take the sofa.” Something inside my brain quietly snapped. Without a single word, I slammed the heavy plastic receiver back onto the cradle. 7 After that weekend, Dominic was suddenly everywhere. We never spoke, but I saw him constantly. He was a busy CEO, yet he found the time to sit in the back of Cathy’s lecture halls. Once, he sat in the row directly behind me. They whispered to each other the entire time. Their voices were low, but the sound of his breathy laughs ruined my focus for the entire morning. Halfway through the lecture, my pen rolled off my desk. I bent down to grab it, my fingers brushing against another hand. His hand. He paused, his long fingers wrapping around the metal pen. He placed it squarely in my palm. “Here.” His tone was completely empty. Beside him, Cathy was glaring daggers at my back. My heart was a mess. When class ended, I looked down at my notebook and realized with absolute horror that I had unconsciously scribbled Dominic’s name in the margins. Panic flared in my chest. I grabbed my white out. Suddenly, a wave of scalding heat splashed violently across my back. Searing pain tore through my skin. I shrieked and spun around. Cathy was holding an empty tumbler. She widened her eyes in a perfect picture of innocence. “Oh my god, I am so sorry! My hand slipped. But the water was cold, right? You are fine. I will pay for the dress.” “It was literally boiling!” I choked out, tears of pain welling in my eyes. “You did that on purpose.” Cathy offered a pathetic, victimized smile and looked at the guy standing next to her. “You saw it, right? It was cold water.” The guy, desperate to get in Dominic’s good graces, nodded vigorously. “Yeah, totally cold.” Right at that moment, Dominic walked back into the room. He had stepped out to take a business call. Seeing the commotion, his dark brows pulled together. “What is going on?” The brown nosing classmate immediately spun the story in Cathy’s favor. Dominic’s cold gaze slid over to me. He clearly had somewhere more important to be. He chose the most efficient, soulless way to handle it. “I will have my assistant drop off a new dress for you later. Cathy did not mean it.” He paused, his eyes narrowing to icy slits. “But lying to play the victim is not a good look on you. Is it, Jenny?” My breath hitched. The burn on my back throbbed in agony, but it was nothing compared to the hollow ache in my chest. “Got it.” Between Cathy and me, no matter what the truth was, he was always going to choose her.

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I died ninety-nine times on a luxury cruise ship. Every single time, the ship struck the rocks and sank at exactly midnight. And every single time, I failed to find the traitor responsible for the disaster. Ninety-nine loops. Trapped in a cycle with no way out, my body worn to nothing and my mind on the edge of breaking. When the hundredth loop began, I gave up. I stopped fighting. All I wanted was to spend my last few hours holding my brand-new wife in my arms. But the moment I pulled her close, my hands found something hidden beneath her elegant evening gown — something ice-cold, hard, and already inflated. A miniature life vest. Suffocation. My lungs felt like they were being stabbed by hundreds of red-hot needles all at once. The freezing seawater was alive — coiling through my nose and mouth, forcing its way down my throat like serpents. I thrashed wildly, arms and legs flailing in the pitch-black deep, grasping at nothing but empty water. My consciousness began to slip. The world around me dissolved into a vast, endless blue. Then — silence. Dead silence. … “Haah—!” I jolted upright in bed, gasping, my entire body soaked through with cold sweat. The soft velvet blanket slid off my shoulders. No salt, no brine — just the faint, calming scent of premium agarwood incense drifting through the air. No crashing waves — just the low, steady hum of the cruise ship’s engines. I wasn’t dead. I was back. I turned my head and stared at the priceless Patek Philippe custom clock sitting on the nightstand. The second hand ticked steadily. 8:00 PM. This was the hundredth time I had woken up at this exact hour, in this exact bed. “Eleanor, did you have a nightmare?” The bathroom door swung open softly. Victoria stepped out in a cloud of warm steam. She wore a silky wine-red robe, her damp hair falling loosely over her bare shoulders, her breathtaking face full of concern. Just the sight of her made my racing heart begin to slow. For the past ninety-nine loops, I’d run around this ship like a madman. I’d tried warning the captain. I’d tried forcing the ship off course. I’d even tried blowing up the engine room to stop it entirely. None of it worked. No matter what I did, the moment midnight hit, that deafening crack would tear through the hull. Water would rush in. The ship would capsize. And everyone would go down screaming. I was exhausted. Too tired to even lift a finger. If fate couldn’t be changed, then I wasn’t going to spend my last four hours fighting it. I just wanted to be with the woman I loved most — and go quietly. “It’s nothing. Just a bad dream.” I managed a tired smile, threw back the covers, and walked straight toward her. I opened my arms and pulled her close. Her body was soft, carrying the clean scent of her body wash — a smell I had never stopped loving. I wanted to bury my face in the curve of her neck and breathe in this last moment of warmth. But the second I tightened my arms around her, my hand caught on something at her back. Beneath the soft silk of her robe — something hard. Something that had no business being there. It was… After ninety-nine times fighting to survive in the water, I recognized the feel of it instantly. A compact, body-hugging, military-grade inflatable life vest！ And it was already partially inflated — primed and ready to deploy. It was 8:00 PM. Four full hours before the ship would hit the rocks. Outside, the sea was perfectly calm. The sky was full of stars. So why was my brand-new wife wearing a hidden life vest under her robe?

“Ow, Eleanor — you’re holding me too tight.” Victoria pulled back with a soft pout, trying to wriggle free from my arms. I forced down the icy dread spreading through my chest and slowly let go. “Sorry. The nightmare felt too real. I’m still not quite myself.” I stepped back half a pace and kept my voice easy, my eyes catching the brief flicker of unease in hers. Ninety-nine brushes with death had sharpened my instincts. She was nervous. “Let me pour you something to take the edge off.” She turned and walked quickly toward the bar in the corner of the room. Watching her go, my mind shifted into overdrive. The ship striking the reef. A situation with no way out. A wife who had already fastened her life jacket. None of this was a coincidence. Could it be — the one who caused this ship to go down wasn’t some stranger hiding in the shadows. It was the woman who shared my bed. How could that be possible?！ We’d been together three years. She stood by me through the darkest days of Vance Group. She was gentle, warm, and endlessly understanding — the only light in my life. But what I felt on her back when I held her was real. If you want to keep up the act, I’ll play along. I wanted to see what she was truly hiding underneath that soft, loving face. “Vicky, I want that bottle of ’82 Lafite. It’s at the bottom of my suitcase.” I sank onto the sofa, my voice lazy and unbothered. “Of course. I’ll go grab it.” She set down her glass and disappeared into the walk-in closet. The moment she crouched down and started digging through the suitcase, I shot to my feet and crossed the room to her vanity table. My eyes went straight to her Hermès makeup bag — the one that never left her side. I unzipped it. Lipstick, foundation, perfume… everything looked perfectly normal. But I didn’t stop. I pressed my fingers firmly along the bottom edge of the bag. Click. A faint, sharp snap. The bottom of the bag swung open, revealing a hidden compartment. Inside, lying completely still, was a black satellite phone. No brand markings. No logo. I drew a slow breath, picked it up, and pressed the power button. The screen lit up. No lock screen — it went straight to the home screen. One message. Received ten minutes ago. Sender: [Hound] “Bottom explosive device is armed. Timer set: 23:59. Target asset transfer protocol is active. Put your life jacket on and wait for extraction.” It hit me like a bomb going off inside my skull. Explosive device！ Asset transfer！ Target！ There was no reef. This ship was deliberately blown up. And I — I was the “target.” All ninety-nine times I nearly drowned. All ninety-nine times I clawed at the edge of madness and despair. Every single one of them had been a carefully planned murder. A savage rage at being betrayed by the person I loved most slammed into a bone-deep grief, and together they swallowed me whole. I gripped the satellite phone so hard my knuckles turned white. “Eleanor, I’ve got the wine—” Victoria stepped out of the closet, red wine in hand. Her words died in her throat. She saw what I was holding. The warmth drained from her face in an instant. Her pupils shrank to pinpoints. The air in the room dropped to absolute zero.

“What is this?” I held up the satellite phone, my voice so calm it even scared me. Victoria stood frozen, her body trembling slightly. But within two seconds, the panic on her face disappeared — replaced by a chilling composure I had never seen from her before. “Since you’ve already seen it, I won’t bother pretending.” She casually tossed the priceless bottle of wine onto the carpet. The red liquid spread across the fibers like blood. “Eleanor Vance, you’re a sharp businessman. But you’re too sentimental — and that is your fatal flaw.” She walked to the sofa and sat down, elegantly lighting a slim cigarette. “Who put you up to this?” I gritted my teeth and stepped toward her. “You don’t need to know that. All you need to know is that by the end of tonight, everything in Vance Group will change hands.” She blew a slow smoke ring, her eyes full of mockery. “You think you can kill me on this ship?” I laughed coldly. Over the course of ninety-nine loops, I had honed my skills to the level of a trained assassin. Taking down one woman? Three seconds, tops. “Kill you? No, no, no — why would I want to get my own hands dirty?” Victoria laughed so hard she nearly doubled over. “You’re going to ‘accidentally’ die in a shipwreck, right in front of the entire ship — the tragic CEO who never saw it coming.” Just then, the doorbell rang. Ding-dong. “Eleanor, it’s the Captain. Your dinner reservation is ready.” The voice from outside the door was deep and steady — the voice of this cruise ship’s captain. In previous loops, I had begged him for help countless times. He always brushed me off with the same dismissive, by-the-book indifference. I walked over and yanked the door open. The Captain stood outside in a crisp white uniform, wearing his professional smile. Behind him, two waiters pushed a service cart. “Eleanor, this is the French baked lobster you specially requested—” “Shut up.” I cut him off cold, my eyes fixed on his face like a blade. “Captain, I remember very clearly — at the welcome dinner on the first night of this voyage, you told me personally that you have a severe shellfish allergy. You said even the smell gives you hives.” I pointed at the enormous red lobster on the cart and said, word by word: “So tell me — why are you the one personally delivering this to my cabin?” The smile on the Captain’s face froze. Fine beads of cold sweat instantly broke out across his forehead. “I… I…” He stumbled over his words, his eyes darting uncontrollably toward Victoria on the sofa. “Because he’s not the real Captain!” I slammed my foot into the service cart and sent it crashing to the floor. Scalding broth splattered all over both waiters. “You’re all in on this together!” It finally made sense. Why no matter how many warnings I gave, the crew never reacted. Why the ship had drifted so far off course without a single person finding it strange. Because everyone on this ship — from the captain down to the waiters — was a player in this murder plot. Clap. Clap. Clap. Victoria sat on the sofa and applauded slowly. “Brilliant. Truly brilliant, Eleanor. You’re even sharper than I gave you credit for.” She stood up and stubbed her cigarette out in the ashtray. “But even now that you’ve figured it all out — what does it change? Do you really think you can escape?” Her words had barely left her lips when the two waiters — still grimacing from the scalding broth — suddenly reached inside their jackets and pulled out silenced pistols. The barrels pointed straight at my head.

“Kneel.” The fake captain tore off his mask of civility, his face twisting with rage as he screamed at me. I stared down the two dark gun barrels and didn’t move. My mind was running at full speed — calculating distances, angles. “I said, kneel!” He stepped forward and raised his radio, swinging it down toward my head. Now！ I ducked sharply, dodging the blow, and launched myself forward. I grabbed the wrist holding the radio and twisted hard. Crack. The sound of bone snapping was sharp and clean. “AHHH—!” The fake captain let out a blood-curdling shriek. I swung his massive body in front of me, using him as a human shield. Phff. Phff. Two muffled shots. Both bullets hit the fake captain square in the chest. Blood bloomed instantly across his white uniform. In the split second the two hitmen hesitated, I shoved his body aside, rolled into a tactical dive, and snatched a dinner knife off the floor. It left my hand like a flash of lightning. The blade buried itself in the left hitman’s throat. He clutched at his neck as blood poured between his fingers, then dropped straight down. The hitman on the right went pale. He barely started to swing his gun around before I was already on him — a vicious knee strike connecting hard with his jaw. Thud. He flew off his feet and slammed into the wall, out cold. Five seconds. Start to finish. This was muscle memory forged across ninety-nine deaths — beaten into me through countless beatings and killings. I was breathing hard. I picked up the handgun from the floor, turned around, and pointed it straight at Victoria. She stood completely still, staring at the blood and bodies scattered across the floor. Not a trace of fear on her face. Instead, she smiled — a strange, unsettling smile, like someone who already knew exactly how this would end. “Nice moves, Eleanor.” She even stepped forward, pressing her forehead directly against the barrel. “Go ahead. Shoot me. Kill me.” Her eyes were full of challenge. “You think I won’t?” I kept my finger on the trigger. Rage burned in my chest. “Oh, you would.” Victoria’s lips curved into a mocking smile. “But if you kill me, you won’t make it out either.” A mocking smirk tugged at the corner of Victoria’s mouth. “Eleanor — doesn’t it seem strange to you? Why do you always wake up again at eight o’clock every time you die?” My pupils snapped tight. She… how did she know about the loop? I had never told a single person. “Did you actually think this was God giving you a second chance?” Victoria laughed — loud, raw, and cruel. “Don’t be naive. There is no such thing as a time loop.” “Everything you’ve been experiencing — this ship, this ocean, me — all of it is fake！” She threw her arms wide, like she was unveiling a masterpiece. “Welcome to the Abyss System, Eleanor.” “It’s a virtual reality interrogation chamber hardwired directly into your brain.” “You’re not at sea at all. Right now, you’re lying in a stasis pod in Vance Group’s underground lab, with electrodes planted all over your skull.” The words hit me like a wrecking ball. Virtual reality？ Neural interrogation？ The room spun around me. “That’s… that’s not possible…” My voice came out barely above a whisper. The gun trembled in my hands. “Why not?” Victoria pressed closer. “You’re holding the highest-level master access codes for Vance Group. We’re talking about wealth large enough to buy a small country.” “But your willpower is too strong. Standard truth serums and physical interrogation don’t work on you.” “So they built this system.” “To put you through the most hopeless deaths imaginable, over and over, in a virtual world. Grinding down your mental defenses one loop at a time.” “Until you break completely — and hand over the codes.” She pointed to the clock on the wall. “The ship sinking at midnight is the system’s forced restart protocol. Every restart causes irreversible damage to your brain.” “Ninety-nine times, Eleanor. Your neural pathways are stretched to the breaking point — like a rubber band about to snap.” “This is the last loop. If you don’t hand over the codes, your brain will flatline at midnight tonight. And in the real world, you will be a vegetable. Forever.”

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1 In my past life, when my sister fled her wedding, Ernie Crawford didn’t flinch. He simply married me instead. Afterward, he was impeccably polite—the perfect gentleman. Then news came: my sister nearly died in childbirth overseas. Ernie locked himself in his study, smoking till dawn. The next day, endless boxes of premium vitamins, supplements, and rich foods arrived. I thought he cared about my future pregnancies. That warmth lasted until I nearly died delivering an oversized baby, forced by all that nutrition. When he heard I’d survived, his eyes were hollow. “She must have suffered so much,” he murmured. Later, my sister complained her baby pulled her hair. That night, Ernie hacked off mine with shears, calling it practical for newborn care. When she sprained her ankle, I fell down stairs, in a cast for three months. When she cut her finger chopping vegetables, he shattered a crystal glass into my palm. News broke: my sister died in a car crash abroad. Ernie dragged me to the city’s highest suspension bridge, plunging us into icy water. His last words: “You were only ever her shadow. If she’s dead, you have no right to breathe.” I woke back in the moment he came to finalize our engagement. Stella had already slipped away. He looked at me coldly. “It’ll have to be you.” A laugh escaped my lips. “Mr. Crawford, I already love someone else. Find your replacement elsewhere.” My words hung in the air. Ernie’s gaze swept over my face like I was completely invisible. He turned slightly and gave my father a stiff nod. “Then it is settled. The engagement gifts will be delivered tomorrow.” My parents were drowning in guilt over Stella’s escape. They nodded eagerly, practically bowing to him. I gripped my phone tight under the table. My fingers were trembling as I typed out a quick message to Roman Blackwood, the undisputed, ruthless king of the Manhattan elite. “Hello. Let us get married.” My heart was lodged in my throat. A second later, the screen lit up. “Done.” “Next Wednesday. It is a perfect day for a wedding.” I stood up and shoved the phone screen right in front of Ernie’s face. “Ernie, I told you I have someone.” He smacked my hand away without even blinking. The phone clattered onto the hardwood floor. He looked at my mother instead and said to make sure the wedding favors were from Maison Blanc. Stella always loved their macarons. My parents chimed in instantly. They said it was a beautiful way to include Stella in the ceremony. My chest heaved. I told them I was not marrying him. Ernie acted completely deaf. He stood up, adjusted his cuffs, and offered a polite nod. “Mr. and Mrs. Astor, I will take my leave.” I raised my voice, calling his full name. He finally looked at me. His eyes were like chipped ice. “My assistant will pick you up tomorrow for your dress fitting. Be on time.” A sickening wave of exhaustion washed over me. He was always exactly like this. He could remember every single reason Stella ever frowned. If her tone over the phone was slightly off, he would drive three hundred miles in the dead of night just to see her. But I was nothing more than a stray dog to him. When he was in a good mood, he might pat my head. When he was upset, I was less than dirt. In his eyes, I had no right to complain, no right to say no, and absolutely no right to exist as my own person. I stared at his retreating back and let my voice drop to a freezing whisper. “Ernie, you do not love me, and I do not love you. There is no need to force this.” His footsteps stopped. He turned around. His brow was heavy with dark annoyance, like he was tolerating a buzzing fly. “Wendy.” His tone was flat. “Playing hard to get is cute once or twice. Anything more than that, and you will drain my patience.” He checked his platinum watch. “Tomorrow. Be on time. Pick a dress in thirty minutes and do not waste my employee’s valuable time.” Our marriage was nothing but an administrative task to him. Something to be handled in thirty minutes. He walked out the door before I could even take a breath. The moment the lock clicked, my father’s face twisted in rage. He screamed at me, asking if I was out of my mind. He demanded to know what garbage I was spouting about having someone else. He said if I ruined this alliance after my sister ran away, the Astor family would be the laughingstock of high society. I stared back at him, my blood boiling. “Stella gets to run away. Why do I have to be the sacrificial lamb?” A sharp crack echoed through the room. The force of my father’s slap threw my head to the side. My cheek burned like fire. He pointed a shaking finger right between my eyes. “Do you really think you are on her level?” “Your sister is brilliant. She knows what she wants. If she wants to leave, I let her leave. But you? What have you ever done besides trail after Ernie like a pathetic puppy?” “He is willing to take you, and you actually have the nerve to put on airs.” My mother sighed heavily from the sofa. “Wendy, throwing a little tantrum is cute, but you need to read the room. No man will put up with a woman who does not know her place.” My father scoffed. He ordered me to go to the fitting tomorrow and apologize to Ernie. I pressed my hand to my stinging cheek and said absolutely nothing. It was a bitter pill to swallow. I was not just Stella’s replacement to Ernie. I was her replacement to my own parents, too. The next day at the bridal boutique, Ernie was a no-show. His executive assistant, Vanessa, escorted me inside while casually picking at her expensive manicure. “Miss Astor, please hurry. Mr. Crawford only authorized thirty minutes for this.” I pointed at the plainest white gown hanging in the corner. “That one. I am in a rush.” Roman was texting me, asking about our venue preferences. Vanessa did not move an inch. “Miss Astor, Mr. Crawford is not here. You can drop the act.” I frowned. She looked at me with a mocking smirk. “You chased him for years. You dreamed of this day. And now you are pretending to be aloof?” “You are just picking a cheap dress on purpose so I will call him, hoping he will feel guilty and rush over here to comfort you.” She laughed out loud. “Your pathetic little tricks are exactly what everyone said they were.” I did not know who “everyone” was, and I did not care. I ignored her, grabbed the heavy silk gown, and walked straight into the fitting room. I had just unzipped my skirt and stepped out of it when the thick velvet curtain was violently ripped open from the outside. My nearly naked body was exposed to the entire boutique floor. “Miss Astor!” Vanessa gasped, slapping a hand over her mouth. Her voice was loud enough to echo across the high ceilings. “Why would you throw the curtain open? Do you get off on exposing yourself? Is this how you usually seduce Mr. Crawford?” Dozens of judging eyes snapped toward me, burning into my skin. I snatched the dress up to cover my chest. Without a single second of hesitation, I swung my free hand and slapped her across the face with everything I had. The boutique fell dead silent. Vanessa shrieked. “How dare you hit me?” She whipped out her phone, her voice instantly trembling with fake tears. “Mr. Crawford, I am so sorry. I must have served her poorly. Miss Astor is furious…” Less than ten minutes later, Ernie’s private security detail stormed the floor. Before I could even speak, two massive men grabbed my arms, twisting them behind my back and forcing me to bend forward. A third bodyguard stepped up to Vanessa and bowed his head slightly. He told her Mr. Crawford sent his apologies for her distress. He cast a freezing look at me and muttered that some people needed to learn a lesson. Vanessa wiped her fake tears, a triumphant flush spreading across her cheeks. I was dragged out of the boutique, shoved into the back of a tinted SUV, and driven straight to a remote estate in the hills. They tossed me onto the living room floor like a bag of garbage. My knees slammed into the edge of a marble coffee table. The pain made me gasp for air. Footsteps echoed behind me. Ernie walked in, looking down at me from his towering height. “You are not even my wife yet, and you are already throwing your weight around?” His gaze was completely devoid of warmth. “Let me make something very clear. The women who scrub my floors have more status in my world than you do.” “You better learn to play nice with my staff, or your life after the wedding will be a living hell.” My fingernails dug into my palms. “Your assistant ripped the curtain open while I was changing. She exposed me on purpose.” “Enough.” He cut me off, a flicker of pure disgust crossing his face. “Have you ever considered that you are the problem? When your sister was by my side, my staff never acted like this.” He turned on his heel and barked an order at the guards by the door. “Cut the water and the power. Let her sit in the dark and think about what she has done for three days.” I lunged for the door, but the heavy oak slammed shut right in my face. The deadbolt clicked. Three full days. I grew so thirsty I drank the stale, murky water sitting in a crystal flower vase. I was so starved I ripped the bitter leaves off a decorative potted plant and chewed them until my jaw ached. I lost track of time. Eventually, the electronic keypad on the front door beeped. A tall figure stumbled inside, reeking of expensive scotch. It was Ernie. His glassy eyes locked onto me where I was curled up in the corner of the dark room. He suddenly dropped to his knees and crushed his burning lips against mine. My entire body froze into a block of ice. A second later, his lips brushed against mine as he whispered. “Stella.” That single name felt like a jagged blade twisting into my chest. I shoved him away with the last ounce of strength I had left in my starving body. My voice was trembling. “Look at me, Ernie. Look at exactly who I am.” He blinked, his eyes finally focusing on my face in the dim moonlight. He leaned in again, his mouth curving into a cruel sneer. “Congratulations. You finally have me exactly where you want me. You must be dying of excitement.” I pulled my knee up and drove it violently into his stomach. I snatched a silver fruit knife off the coffee table and gripped the handle tight. “Do not touch me.” Ernie’s face darkened instantly. He stared at me for several long seconds. Then, a cold laugh escaped his throat. “I have to admit, you play the tortured victim quite well.” My grip on the knife stiffened. “All this playing hard to get… you are just copying your sister’s personality to turn me on, aren’t you?” He lunged forward and gripped my jaw, his fingers digging into my skin. “Drop the pathetic act. You will never replace her.” “Take your clothes off. Do your job tonight, and I will give you the dignity of being my wife. Otherwise.” Before he could finish his threat, I swung my arm. The blade sliced across his forearm. Hot blood immediately soaked through the crisp white fabric of his dress shirt. I stared dead into his eyes. “I said, do not touch me.” Ernie looked down at his bleeding arm in absolute disbelief. When he looked back up at me, a terrifying rage was boiling in his eyes. “Fine, Wendy.” He laughed, a dark, venomous sound, and stood up. “Do not regret this.” He walked out, leaving the front door wide open. I stumbled out into the cold night air and somehow made it back to my family’s house. The moment I walked in, my father hurled his porcelain teacup at my feet. It shattered into a hundred pieces. “You stabbed Ernie?” His finger shook as he pointed it at my face. I tried to explain, my breathing ragged. “He locked me up for three days. No food, no water. He tried to force himself.” “It is a privilege that he even wants to touch you.” My mother cut me off, her face twisted in disappointment. “So what if he locked you up? You are about to be his wife. If he wants to lock you up for the rest of your life, you smile and take it.” My father stepped closer. “You are nothing compared to your sister. Why won’t you use your body to tie him down while you still have your youth? How did I raise such a useless idiot?” I looked back and forth between their furious faces. It felt like a giant hand had reached into my chest, squeezing my heart until every last drop of warmth was gone. My father slammed his hand on the dining table. “You will stay in your room until the wedding. Learn some manners so you do not embarrass us any further.” Three days later, on Wednesday, the wedding day arrived. My parents practically dragged me to the cathedral. Nine o’clock passed. Then ten. Then eleven. Ernie did not show up. The pews were packed with New York’s elite, and the whispers grew deafening. “I heard Ernie found a girl downtown who looks just like Stella.” “Yeah, apparently she threw a fit this morning and refused to walk. Ernie carried her into his corner office in front of the whole board. They are probably still in there.” “Wow. So what happens to the Astor girl?” My father stood behind me. He threw his glass of champagne onto the marble floor. “When Stella was around, Ernie never dared to pull a stunt like this.” He grabbed a handful of my veil and yanked my head back. “You useless piece of trash. You are making us look like fools.” My mother sat beside me, dabbing fake tears with a tissue. “I gave birth to both of you. How did you turn out so defective? You cannot even keep a man’s attention for one day.” I sat in the front pew, perfectly still. The heavy oak doors creaked open. Vanessa walked in, a smug smile plastered across her face. Behind her, a bodyguard was struggling to hold a massive, mud-covered hunting hound on a thick leather leash. He let the dog go, and it immediately shook itself, splattering wet mud all over my pure white gown. The smell of wet dog and swamp dirt filled the air. “Mr. Crawford was delayed by an urgent matter,” Vanessa announced, projecting her voice. “Miss Astor, you will have to walk down the aisle with Duke. Mr. Crawford will arrive later for the ring exchange.” My father shot out of his seat. “Walk down the aisle with a dog? Are you out of your mind?” Vanessa crossed her arms. “Mr. Crawford said she marries the dog, or the wedding is off. Your call.” My father’s protests died in his throat. He glared at me with pure venom, blaming me for every ounce of humiliation he was feeling. My mother shoved my shoulder. “Listen to Ernie.” A twisted sense of relief washed over her face. “Thank God it is you up there. If Stella had to go through this, it would break my heart.” I looked at her. I did not say a single word. I looked down at my phone, dropped a location pin to Roman, and locked the screen. I linked my arm through my father’s and walked down the long, agonizing aisle toward the muddy dog. He handed me off to the hound. Behind me, the sound of camera shutters and muffled laughter echoed through the vaulted ceilings. “She is so desperate for his money.” “She brought this on herself. She chased him for twenty years. She would probably marry a pig if it meant getting the Crawford last name.” Just as the priest cleared his throat to start the mockery of a ceremony, the deafening roar of a sports car engine rattled the stained glass windows. I stood up and turned toward the entrance. Ernie stepped out of a sleek black car. In his hand, he held a pair of sharp steel scissors. “Stella cut her hair into a bob today. She is vacationing in Monaco.” He walked up the aisle and held the scissors out to me. “Cut your hair. Take off the dress. Put on some jeans and a T-shirt.” I stood my ground. I did not move. My father shoved me hard from behind. “What are you waiting for? Do what he says.” I still did not move. My eyes drifted past the crowd, looking out the massive open doors toward the winding coastal highway below the church. Ernie let out a cold laugh. “You really never learn, do you?” “Wendy, save your cheap tricks. Do you honestly think acting stubborn is going to make me desire you?” He threw the scissors at my chest. They clattered to the stone floor. “Playing hard to get is only fun until you become a pathetic joke.” I kept my mouth shut. My ears caught a new sound. The deep, heavy rumble of motorcycles. Slowly, a flash of brilliant red appeared on the horizon. A custom Ducati tore up the mountain road, kicking up a storm of dust. And right behind it was an endless, terrifying convoy of over a hundred matte-black luxury SUVs. “Who is that?” “What is going on? Did someone else rent out the mountain today?” The guests erupted into a frenzy of panicked whispers. Ernie’s brow furrowed into a deep, angry V. I stepped over the scissors and walked straight toward the church doors. Ernie’s face went dark. “Wendy. Get back here right now. Do not test my temper.” I ignored him completely. The red motorcycle skidded to a halt right in front of the cathedral steps. In one fluid motion, the rider wrapped a strong arm around my waist and pulled me flush against him. Behind us, over a hundred black cars laid on their horns in perfect unison. The sky exploded. Daylight fireworks shot into the air, raining gold and crimson smoke over the entire estate.

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I always thought I was an ordinary high school student—until a third eye opened at the back of my head. This eye has no blind spots. It sees through people, and it caught my scumbag father cheat with my vicious tutor in the act. They didn’t just want to kill my dying mother—they wanted to stage an “accident” and sacrifice me, all to cash in a expensive insurance payout and buy a house for their bastard son. Cute. They really thought I was a pushover? So I flipped the script and started the hunt. But when I finally stood over their corpses, thinking I could reunite with my mom at last, I uncovered a truth that froze my blood. I’m not a human at all. “Clara Croft, are you hiding? Daddy’s coming to find you!” Walter Croft’s gentle voice drifted in from outside the bedroom door. I clamped a hand over my mouth, crammed into the huge closet in the master bedroom, not daring to breathe. Today was my fourteenth birthday. Dad had taken half a day off specially, saying he wanted to play my favorite game—hide and seek. Just as I waited, giddy, for him to pull the closet door open, a tearing, stabbing pain shot through the back of my skull. Then a strange new field of vision unfolded in my mind. I could see straight through the closet’s thick wooden door—clear as day, I saw everything outside. At the back of my head, a third eye had opened. Walter wasn’t looking for me at all. He yanked his tie loose, desperate, and pulled my young, pretty private math tutor, Evelyn Hayes, into his arms. The two of them tumbled straight onto the big bed where my mom slept. “You devil, your daughter’s still home!” Evelyn scolded coyly, giving him a push—but her eyes were pure seduction. “What’s there to worry about? That girl’s clueless. She’s probably crammed in some corner right now, holding her breath.” Walter sneered, his hand already sliding under Evelyn’s skirt. My whole body went cold. My stomach churned. My mom was lying in the ICU, hovering between life and death, and my so-called wonderful father—the one who normally preached morality and never even raised his voice at me—was rolling around in her bed with another woman. I bit down hard on my lip, forcing back the urge to burst out and claw those two hypocritical faces apart. The third eye recorded it all like an HD camera, no blind spots. When they were finished, Evelyn lay against Walter’s chest, tracing little circles with her finger. “When is your wife actually going to die? Didn’t the doctor say it’d be any day now? This baby in my belly can’t wait. You really want your son born as a bastard?” A flash of cruelty crossed Walter’s eyes. “Soon. I’ve already paid off the people at the hospital. Cutting her meds is a matter of days. As for that little dead weight, Clara…” He paused, and his tone turned so cold it sent ice through me. “I took out a high-value accidental death policy on her, I’m the beneficiary. Next week I’ll take her for a drive on the mountain roads. The brakes just have to ‘fail’ a little. We lose the burden, and the payout’s enough to buy our son a big downtown apartment in cash.” Evelyn’s eyes lit up. She smacked a kiss on him. “Babe, you’re so smart! Then we’ll send the mother and daughter off together. At least they’ll have company on the way down.” I crouched in the dark closet, shaking like a leaf. Not from fear. From excitement. A bloodthirsty kind of excitement. You want to kill me? Fine. Let’s see who dies first.

I pretended nothing had happened. By the time I climbed out of the closet, the two of them were dressed together. Walter patted my head, all tenderness. “Clara, you’re so good at this. Daddy looked forever and couldn’t find you. Come on, let’s go see Mom at the hospital.” I nodded obediently, pulling a sweet smile across my lips. “Thanks, Dad.” At the hospital, the room reeked of disinfectant. My mom, Diane Croft, was wasted to nothing, her eyes sunk deep in their sockets—like a withered yellow rose. When she saw us, a faint light flickered in her clouded eyes. Walter instantly put on a face of tender devotion, taking my mom’s hand, his eyes going red. “Diane, how are you feeling today? Clara came to see you.” I looked at his sickening expression and sneered inside. I walked to the bedside and took my mom’s other hand, thin as a stick. Her hand was cold, without a trace of warmth. “Mom, I’m fine, don’t worry,” I said softly. She looked at me, her eyes full of longing and reluctance. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but in the end only shook her head weakly. I couldn’t tell her about Walter and Evelyn’s plot. Her body couldn’t take a blow like that right now. When we left the hospital, Walter took a call. His face shifted, and he made an excuse about an urgent matter at the company and rushed off. I knew it. He was going to see Evelyn. I walked home alone, my mind racing. I was only fourteen. Call the police? With no evidence, who’d believe a fourteen-year-old girl? Tell them I’d grown an eye on the back of my head? They’d just lock me up as a psych case. If the law couldn’t punish them, then I’d do it myself. I got in touch with a seller on the dark web and paid a steep price for a few packets of high-dose rat poison. Back home, I dumped all of it into the single malt whiskey Walter loved. That done, I sat on the couch and quietly waited for my prey to come home. But for days, Walter didn’t touch that bottle. Evelyn was even more wary. Every time she came over, she wouldn’t drink so much as a glass of water. They seemed to have sensed something. And what I sensed was far more dangerous than that.

On the weekend, Walter suddenly suggested taking me hiking in the countryside. “Clara, school’s been stressful lately. Daddy wants to take you somewhere to relax.” He smiled, all warmth. I sneered inside. Here it comes. Mountain roads. Accident insurance. Brake failure. Only he didn’t know—this time, I was the one who’d set the trap. “Okay, thanks, Dad.” I slung my backpack on and climbed into the car, obedient. The car pulled out of the city. The roads grew emptier, the scenery on both sides more and more desolate. Walter drove faster and faster. At a sharp turn, he suddenly wrenched the wheel hard, sending the car straight toward the edge of the cliff. “Oh no! The brakes are out!” he shouted, faking panic. Just as the car was about to break through the guardrail, he shoved the driver’s door open and jumped out. My door, on the other side, had been locked from the start. Bang! The car slammed hard into a big tree at the cliff’s edge. Smoke billowed from the hood, and then flames leapt up. The fire spread fast. The temperature inside the car shot up. I beat at the window, putting on a show of terror, screaming my lungs out: “Dad! Help me! Dad!” Walter stood a few yards from the car, watching me coldly. There wasn’t a trace of pity in his eyes—only the giddy thrill of getting what he wanted. “Clara, don’t blame Daddy. Blame yourself for standing in your brother’s way. Get a better life next time around.” The fire swallowed the cabin completely. The smoke choked me until I couldn’t open my eyes. The heat seared my skin. Just as I thought I really was about to burn to death, a miracle happened. A faint blue glow rose over the surface of my body, sealing the flames and smoke out. I didn’t feel any pain. Even my breathing came easier. What was going on? Was I not made of flesh and blood after all? Before I could think it through, the car suddenly went up in a violent explosion. Everything went black, and I lost consciousness.

When I woke again, I was in a hospital bed. The harsh fluorescent light made my head spin. “A miracle! It’s nothing short of a miracle! A fire that size, and this child only has a few surface burns!” The doctor’s astonished voice rang in my ears. I slowly opened my eyes and saw Walter standing by the bed, his face white as paper. When he saw me wake, he looked like he’d seen a ghost and jerked back a step. A police officer came over with the routine questions. “Sweetheart, do you remember how the crash happened?” I looked at Walter, the corner of my mouth curling into a sneer too faint to catch. He swallowed nervously, his eyes full of pleading. “Officer, I… I can’t remember clearly. I only remember the car suddenly went out of control, and then it caught fire. My dad got hurt trying to save me.” I put on a weak, frail act, tears rolling down my cheeks. The officer comforted me a little, then turned to Walter. “Mr. Croft, you’re lucky your daughter survived. But we’ll be investigating the cause further, so please stay available to cooperate.” After the officer left, only Walter and I remained in the room. The air was dead silent. “What… what exactly do you want?” Walter’s voice trembled. The way he looked at me was the way you’d look at a monster. I put the tears away and fixed him with an icy stare. “Walter, did you really think your plan was airtight? When you jumped out of the car, I saw every bit of it.” His legs went weak; he nearly dropped to the floor. “Clara, Daddy was wrong! Daddy lost my mind for a moment! Won’t you forgive me?” He threw himself at the bedside, begging, a mess of snot and tears. “Forgive you? Sure.” I sneered. “I want you to change the beneficiary on that accident policy to my name. Right now. And I want a supplementary card with no limit. Otherwise, I tell the police exactly how you tried to murder your own daughter.” Walter nodded over and over like a man granted a pardon. “Yes! Yes! Daddy will do whatever you say!” The moment I had the money and the insurance, the first thing I did was go to a flower shop and buy a big bunch of the brightest yellow roses. Then I went to my mom’s hospital room. I pushed the door open and froze. The room was thick with the scent of roses. In the vase by my mom’s bed, there was already a fresh bunch of yellow roses. “Mom, did someone come to see you?” I asked, startled. When she saw me, panic flashed in her eyes. She struggled upright and grabbed my hand, her voice urgent. “Clara, listen to me. You’re in danger right now. Go! Get away from here!” I was completely lost. “Mom, what are you talking about? I’ve already got Walter under control. He wouldn’t dare hurt me.” She shook her head, tears spilling over. With trembling hands, she fished a silver fidget spinner out from under her pillow and pressed it into my palm. “Take this! Spin it counterclockwise three times and you can go back to the past. Spin it clockwise three times and you can go to the future. Remember—you only get three chances. Run! Run as far as you can!” I stared at the finely made spinner in my hand and was sure the illness had muddled her mind. “Mom, don’t scare me…” “Clara, happy birthday, my baby.” She suddenly cupped my face and pressed a cold kiss to my forehead. The next second, the heart monitor let out a piercing, drawn-out wail. A flat line. My mom was dead.

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My brother was only nineteen when he was sent to prison. He stole three pounds of beef from the local butcher shop because our mother had been starving in bed for three days. The butcher insisted on pressing charges and threw my brother to the cops. My mother dragged her sick body to the butcher’s doorstep, dropping to her knees to beg him to drop the case. The owner spat a thick wad of phlegm onto the dirt right next to her. “Stealing is stealing. Three pounds is still a crime.” My brother got a year behind bars. By the time he was released, our mother was already dead. He lost his mind. He was completely, irreversibly broken. Thirty years later, I am the CEO of my own company. One afternoon, a gray-haired old man was brought into my office. His son had embezzled fifty thousand dollars of company funds, and I had handed him straight to the police. The old man’s hands shook violently as he pulled a thick stack of medical records from his pocket. “Boss, I have kidney failure. He is my only son.” “Please, show some mercy. He knows he messed up.” I flipped through the medical files. I saw that painfully familiar name at the top of the page. I slowly raised my eyes. “A crime is a crime. Fifty thousand dollars is still a crime.” 1 “Brian, don’t you think that is a little too cold-blooded?” The office door was violently shoved open. My fiancé and the company’s Vice President, Tristan, marched into the room. His suit jacket was draped over his arm, his brows knitted together in deep disapproval. His leather shoes made no sound against the plush carpet, but his entire aura was aggressively overbearing. “It is only fifty grand. That is pocket change for this company. Do you really need to push a man to the brink of death?” Kneeling on the floor, Gary was shaking uncontrollably. The moment he saw Tristan, his eyes lit up like he had seen a savior. He scrambled across the floor, practically throwing himself at Tristan’s legs, his wails growing even louder. “Please, sir! You have to help me!” “My boy is a good kid! He only did something so stupid because he was trying to pay for my medical bills!” Sobbing, Gary pulled up his faded, yellowed shirt. He exposed a shriveled stomach covered in a dense cluster of needle marks. “Look at this! I have end-stage kidney failure. The dialysis alone costs a fortune every month.” “Derek just could not bear to see his old man suffer! I am the one dragging him down!” Tristan stared at those bruised needle marks. A flash of profound sympathy crossed his eyes. He bent down and gently pulled Gary to his feet. “Please stand up, sir. The floor is cold.” He turned his head, shooting me a blistering, judgmental glare. “Brian! Look at how sick this man is. Do you not have a single shred of empathy left?” “Derek has busted his ass for this company for three years. Even if he made a mistake, he has put in the work.” “He took that money to save his dying father. That is completely justifiable!” I watched their touching little master-and-servant performance. I tapped my index finger against the mahogany desk twice. “Justifiable? If everyone justified stealing like that, how exactly are we supposed to run a business?” “Section three of our corporate handbook is crystal clear. Any embezzlement over ten thousand dollars is immediately handed over to the authorities.” “Tristan, as the Vice President, did you somehow forget the absolute baseline of our company policies?” Tristan’s face darkened. “Rules are rigid. People are alive.” “We are at a critical stage right before our IPO.” “If we send a devoted son to prison over fifty grand when he was just trying to save his dad, how do you think the media will spin it?” “They will brand us as bloodsucking corporate vultures. They will say we drove an old man with kidney failure to his grave!” “Have you even calculated the catastrophic PR nightmare this will cause?” I stared right into Tristan’s self-righteous face. “A corporate image is built on following the law. Not on harboring criminals.” “He stole money from this company. That is a crime.” “Needing medical treatment does not give him a free pass to embezzle.” Gary stood off to the side, wiping his tears. His cloudy eyes secretly sized me up. “Ms. Brian, I know you are a big shot. You don’t need this kind of chump change.” “If you just drop the charges and let my son go, we will sell everything we own to pay you back!” “I will bow down to you!” He made a dramatic motion to drop to his knees again. Tristan grabbed his arm to stop him, whipping his head around to scream at me. “Brian, will you only be satisfied when you force this man into a coffin?!” “I know you are ruthless in the boardroom, but do you have to be this heartless to a dying old man?” The blinds in my office were not fully closed. Out in the bullpen, several employees were craning their necks, whispering and watching the spectacle. Tristan took a deep breath. He seemed to make a decision. He straightened his posture and adjusted his tie. “You are off this case.” “As the Vice President, I have the authority to handle crisis management.” “I will have the legal department drop the charges immediately. We will also issue a five-thousand-dollar donation to Gary as a humanitarian gesture from the company.” I looked at him. A dry laugh bubbled up in my throat. “You want to use my company’s money to buy yourself some good karma?” “What makes you think you can bypass me and issue that order?” Tristan shoved his hands into his pockets. Absolute arrogance dripped from his eyes. “Because I am your fiancé. And I am the second-in-command.” “Brian, women shouldn’t be so aggressively stubborn. You need to know when to back down.” “Listen to me on this. It is the best move for you and the company.” He turned back to Gary, his tone softening into something gentle. “Sir, you go home and get some rest. I personally guarantee Derek’s situation will be sorted out by this afternoon.” Gary trembled with intense excitement. He took two steps back, bowing repeatedly. “Thank you, Mr. Tristan! You are a living saint!” “God bless you!” Right before he walked out the door, he shot me one last look. There was no gratitude in his eyes. Only a smug, victorious provocation. The office door clicked shut. I kept my eyes on Tristan. “Tristan, are you absolutely sure you want to shield a criminal?” Tristan walked up to my desk, looking down at me from his high horse. “I am saving our company’s reputation. And I am teaching you how to be a decent human being.” 2 “Teaching me?” I leaned back in my leather chair, silently studying Tristan. His eyes were swollen with self-important superiority. He genuinely believed he was some compassionate savior descending from the heavens. Tristan ignored my sarcastic question. He turned around, walked over to my desk, and picked up the intercom phone. “Tell Lawson from Legal to come to my office immediately. Bring the corporate seals and draft a formal letter of forgiveness.” He hung up the receiver and looked back at me. “Brian, the decision is made. Stop throwing a tantrum.” “Once Derek is released, I will make him apologize to you in person. Then we can finally put this behind us.” I didn’t say a word. I simply opened my desk drawer and pulled out a sleek black lockbox. I punched in the code and popped the lid. Resting quietly on the velvet lining were the official corporate seals and my personal signature stamp. Tristan’s face dropped. “What are you doing?” I snapped the box shut and rested my hand flat on top of it. “I am making myself perfectly clear. Without my signature and my stamp, Legal cannot issue a single valid document.” “Derek’s case will not be dropped. I am never signing a letter of forgiveness.” Tristan slammed his hand against my desk. “Brian, you are being completely unreasonable!” “Do you have any idea how pathologically cold-blooded you look right now?” “I am starting to wonder if you even have a heart beating in your chest!” He pointed a finger right at my nose, his chest heaving with dramatic rage. “Let me make this clear. If you refuse to back down today, I will call a board meeting and have you removed from your position!” “Be my guest.” I turned to my laptop and pulled up my schedule for the day. “I have a meeting in ten minutes. The door is right behind you. Don’t let it hit you on the way out.” Tristan stormed out in a blind fury, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the glass panes. Silence finally returned to the room. But I knew it was just the quiet before the storm. Sure enough, less than two hours later, the situation spiraled completely out of control. My secretary, Sarah, burst into the office in a total panic. “Brian, it is bad! You need to look at this live stream right now!” I took the tablet from her shaking hands. On the screen, Gary was sitting cross-legged right in the middle of our company’s ground-floor lobby. He was wearing a massive cardboard sign around his neck. The black marker read: HEARTLESS FEMALE CEO DRIVES SICK OLD MAN TO DEATH. Standing right next to him was a young woman holding up a phone on a tripod. It was his daughter, Hailey. “Listen to me, guys! You need to expose this evil corporation!” Hailey cried into the camera, tears streaming down her face. “My dad has kidney failure. He needs dialysis every month. My brother was desperate to save our dad, so he made a stupid mistake and borrowed some money from work.” “We begged them! We promised to sell our house to pay it back! But the CEO, Brian, is demanding my brother be locked up in prison!” “She is trying to destroy our entire family!” Right on cue, Gary clutched his chest and broke into a violent, hacking cough, acting as if he were taking his dying breath. The viewer count in the live stream had already broken one hundred thousand. The chat was moving at warp speed. “What a bloodsucking vampire!” “Fifty grand for a human life? Capitalists have zero conscience!” “Dox her! Bankrupt her company!” “Boycott all their products!” My phone started vibrating violently against the desk. An endless stream of unknown numbers flooded the screen, hurling abusive messages. I just held down the power button and shut it off. The office door was kicked open again. Tristan charged in, completely unhinged. He snatched the tablet from Sarah’s hands and smashed it down onto my desk. The screen shattered instantly. “Look at what you have done!” Tristan pointed at my face, screaming at the top of his lungs. “Our stock just dropped three points in the last ten minutes! Millions of dollars in valuation just vanished into thin air!” “My phone is blowing up with furious investors!” “Is this what your precious principles get us?!” I glanced at the spiderweb cracks on the screen. “They are trespassing and causing a disturbance in our lobby. Why haven’t the security guards thrown them out?” “Throw them out?” Tristan barked out a harsh, manic laugh. “The lobby is swarming with clout-chasing vloggers and cameras right now! You touch them, and see what happens!” “The second a guard lays a finger on that old man, the media will brand us as a violent crime syndicate by tomorrow morning!” He leaned over the desk, glaring at me like a cornered animal. “Brian, as the Vice President of this company, I am ordering you to come downstairs with me right now!” “You are going to apologize to Gary in front of every single camera down there!” “And you are going to sign that letter of forgiveness right on the spot!” I looked up, meeting his frantic gaze head-on. “I didn’t do anything wrong. Why would I apologize?” Tristan froze. He genuinely could not comprehend how I was still standing my ground. “Are you insane?! Do you want to drag this entire company into the grave with you?!” “Brian, I usually let you have your stubborn little moments, but this is a matter of life and death for our business!” He took a massive breath. His tone dropped into a sinister, icy threat. “If you do not go down there and apologize, I will use the board of directors to suspend your authority as CEO.” “And another thing.” He paused, his eyes narrowing into a vicious glare. “If you don’t go down there right now, the wedding is off.” Sarah was backed into the corner of the room, too terrified to even breathe. I stared at the man I had been engaged to for two years. He was using our marriage as a bargaining chip to force me to bow down to a criminal. I stood up and smoothed out the hem of my blazer. “Fine. The wedding is off.” 3 “What did you just say?” Tristan stood frozen in place. The furious color instantly drained from his face. He probably thought my desperation for marriage was my ultimate weakness. He thought dropping the ultimate ultimatum would force me to surrender immediately. “I said, the wedding is off.” I repeated it slowly, keeping my voice perfectly flat. “As for my suspension, feel free to convene the board whenever you want. Assuming you can scrape together a majority vote.” Tristan’s face shifted from green to pale white. His finger trembled as he pointed at me. “Brian, do not regret this! You really think you can keep this empire running without me?!” “You are just bluffing to save face. Let me tell you right now, I am done tolerating your ego!” He spun on his heel and stormed out, slamming the door so hard the walls vibrated. I sank back into my chair and rubbed my throbbing temples. Suddenly, the landline on my desk rang. “Hello, is this the family of Jack?” An urgent, panicked female voice came through the speaker. “This is the West End Psychiatric Facility. Your brother was severely triggered a few minutes ago. He went into a manic episode and smashed his head against the wall.” “He needs stitches right now. You need to get here immediately!” “I am on my way!” I grabbed my car keys, sprinting out of the office. I blew through two red lights and screeched into the hospital parking lot. The second I stepped into the inpatient hallway, a shrill, hysterical voice echoed off the linoleum walls. “Don’t you dare block me! I am going to show everyone exactly how this psychopath beats people up!” “His sister is trying to murder my dad, and he is sitting here faking insanity to assault people!” I shoved my way through the crowd of nurses and patients. At the end of the hall, my brother Jack was pinned down on a bench by two large orderlies. Thick layers of gauze were wrapped around his forehead. Fresh, bright red blood was already seeping through, staining the white fabric. He was violently shaking, mumbling incoherently through chattering teeth. “I won’t steal anymore. I promise I won’t steal again. Please don’t hit my mom…” And right there, shoving her phone aggressively into my bleeding brother’s face, was Hailey. She was practically shouting into the lens. “Look at this, guys! This is the evil CEO’s actual brother!” “He is an absolute lunatic! He just tried to strangle me!” The blood rushed straight to my brain. I lunged forward, snatched the phone right out of Hailey’s grip, and smashed it mercilessly against the concrete floor. The screen exploded into a million shards. Hailey shrieked and jumped back. “What are you doing?! You have no right to break my phone!” She lunged at me like a feral cat, her manicured nails aiming straight for my eyes. I sidestepped her sloppy attack, raised my hand, and slapped her hard across the cheek. The crack echoed sharply down the corridor. Hailey stumbled, completely stunned. She clutched her red cheek, staring at me in pure disbelief. “You hit me. You actually hit me!” She threw herself onto the dirty floor and started thrashing around, kicking her legs. “Murder! The evil boss is trying to murder me!” Heavy, frantic footsteps echoed from the other end of the hall. “Stop it right now!” Tristan sprinted over, breathless. He didn’t even glance at my brother, whose head was still leaking blood. He went straight to Hailey, wrapping an arm around her shoulder to pull her up. “Hailey, are you okay?” Tristan’s voice was dripping with intense, protective concern. There was absolutely no way these two were just strangers or ’employee and family’. Hailey immediately collapsed against Tristan’s chest, sobbing into his shirt. “Tristan, she hit me! She smashed my phone into pieces and slapped me!” “I just came here to check on her brother. How was I supposed to know he was a dangerous psycho who attacks people unprovoked…” Tristan whipped his head around, his eyes burning with disgust. “Brian, have you completely lost your mind?! Why the hell did you break her phone?!” “She is just a naive young girl! Why are you bullying her?!” “Your brother is a certified lunatic. For all we know, he bashed his own head against the wall just to cause a scene!” I watched Tristan instinctively shield Hailey with his body. I looked at his absurd, self-righteous expression, and the absolute last shred of warmth I had for him turned to ice. “She intentionally triggered my brother. Smashing her phone is letting her off easy.” I pointed a rigid finger at Hailey. “She showed up at a psychiatric ward with a live stream, deliberately provoking a severely mentally ill patient.” “Tristan, are you legally blind?” Tristan shoved Hailey further behind him. “Brian, stop spewing venom! Hailey is innocent. She doesn’t understand how these things work!” “You are so consumed by hatred you have become completely unhinged!” He pointed dismissively at my brother. “Look at him. He is a pathetic ghost. All he does is drag you down and cause nightmares for everyone around him!” “Besides, he is literally insane. Who knows if he didn’t just snap and attack her?!” 4 Hailey peeked out from behind Tristan’s broad shoulders, a sickeningly smug smile pulling at the corner of her lips. The elevator doors chimed at the end of the hall. Gary slowly limped out, leaning heavily on a cane, supported by two people. His cloudy eyes locked onto Jack’s blood-soaked bandages. A flash of pure, venomous malice crossed his shriveled face. “Oh my, how on earth did that happen?” He let out a fake, dramatic sigh, hobbling closer to drop his voice into a sinister whisper. “Brian, look at your brother. That is what we call karma.” “You can’t be too ruthless in this life. You push people to the edge, and the heavens will strike you down.” I curled my hands into tight fists, my nails biting deeply into my palms. A nurse walked over holding a clipboard. “Family of Jack? The laceration is very deep. We need to suture it immediately.” “We also need an emergency CT scan to rule out internal bleeding.” “Please go down to the first-floor billing department right now. The total is eight thousand six hundred dollars.” I snatched the invoice from her and pulled out a joint debit card from my wallet. It was a dedicated medical account Tristan and I had set up specifically to cover Jack’s facility bills. I ran downstairs to the billing window and handed the card to the clerk. She swiped it once. Her brow furrowed. “Ma’am, this card has been frozen.” I froze. “That is impossible. There is over a hundred grand in that account.” The clerk slid the card back under the glass. “The system shows the primary account holder reported it lost and froze the assets thirty minutes ago.” The primary account holder was Tristan. I grabbed the card and spun around to face the lobby. Tristan was slowly walking down the grand staircase. He held a thin stack of papers in his right hand. Gary and Hailey were following closely behind him like loyal shadows. Tristan stopped right in front of me and held out the papers. It was the legal letter of forgiveness. “Brian. All you have to do is sign your name right here.” Tristan’s voice was eerily calm. He possessed the sickening confidence of a man who held all the winning cards. “The second you sign, I will make the call to unfreeze the account.” “And your brother can get his life-saving surgery.” I stared dead into his eyes. “You are using my brother’s medical emergency to blackmail me?” Tristan frowned, acting highly offended by my phrasing. “Don’t make it sound so ugly. I am looking out for the big picture here.” “Your brother’s life matters, but Gary’s life matters too.” “Sign the paper. Everyone wins.” Gary leaned heavily on his cane, shuffling forward until his rotting breath hit my ear. “You stupid little bitch. Did you really think becoming a CEO meant you could step on me?” “Thirty years ago, your mother smashed her forehead against the concrete outside my butcher shop, and I still didn’t bat an eye.” “Let’s see if you drop to your knees today.” He pulled his lips back, exposing a row of yellowed, decaying teeth. “If you don’t sign, your brother bleeds out. I have all the time in the world. Let’s see if your brother does.” The memories of thirty years ago violently crashed into my brain. The greasy cobblestones. My mother’s agonizing wails. The thick wad of spit Gary shot onto the dirt. The sheer terror in my brother’s eyes as the police shoved him into the cruiser. It all played out perfectly clear in my mind. I looked at Gary’s twisted face. I looked at Tristan’s arrogant, triumphant smirk. I reached into my pocket, pulled out my phone, and dialed a number.

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Three years ago, for the sake of my fiancé Jason Grayson’s bright future, I willingly took the blame for a hit-and-run and went to prison. On the day I was sentenced, he sobbed uncontrollably through the iron bars, swearing that when I got out, he would give me the most magnificent wedding and lay everything he had at my feet. Three years later, I was released early for good behavior. I was overjoyed, wanting to surprise him—only to see on the city’s largest LED screen that he was hosting a live stream with millions of viewers. In the stream, he was tenderly pushing a wheelchair carrying my “sickly” younger sister, Amy Lowe, announcing their engagement to the whole world. I let out a cold laugh, hailed a taxi, and headed straight for that glittering live event. 0″Let’s give a round of applause to Mr. Jason Grayson and Ms. Amy Lowe! Mr. Grayson’s devotion to Ms. Lowe is truly a model of modern romance!” The host’s passionate voice traveled clearly through the heavy doors of the hotel ballroom. I stood outside, glancing down at my faded old clothes, then at the dazzling light spilling through the crack in the door. A bitter, ironic smile tugged at my lips. I pushed open the heavy doors. Before me was a scene of suffocating luxury. Streaming equipment from top influencers was set up all over the venue, with countless cameras aimed at the center of the stage. Jason Grayson stood there in a tailored suit, tall and handsome, wearing that gentle smile I once knew so well. He leaned slightly forward, his hands on the handles of a wheelchair. In it sat my sister Amy, dressed in a pure white gown, her delicate makeup designed to look fragile and ill. “Jason, thank you for taking care of me all these years,” Amy said, her eyes reddening, her voice so frail it seemed a gust of wind could knock her over. “If it weren’t for you, I might not have made it. My sister… if she knew how happy we are now, I’m sure she’d be happy for us too.” “Don’t mention her. Today is our day.” A flicker of barely concealed disgust passed through Jason’s eyes, then he gently slid a diamond ring the size of a pigeon egg onto Amy’s finger. “Amy, I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for all the suffering you’ve endured.” On the big screen, comments scrolled wildly. The whole internet was weeping over this perfect, fairy-tale romance. I took a deep breath and stepped forward, walking into that light that didn’t belong to me. The click of my heels echoed across the marble floor. At first, no one noticed this uninvited guest. Not until I reached the edge of the stage and, from a stunned crew member, took a spare microphone. Screech— A sharp feedback screech cut through the room, drowning out the soft background music. Dead silence. Every camera, every pair of eyes, locked onto me at once. Jason and Amy’s smiles froze on their faces, as if struck by lightning. The color drained from them, leaving them pale as paper. “Mr. Grayson, Ms. Lowe. Quite the performance.” I gripped the microphone, stepped up onto the stage, and walked right up to them, my eyes cutting into Jason’s hypocritical face like knives. “Anyone would think I’d died in there.” “Amanda?! How… how are you out?!” Jason was the first to react. He instinctively shielded Amy behind him, his handsome face twisting with fear and rage. “Security! Where the hell is security?! Get this crazy woman out of here! Cut the stream! Now!” I watched the panic in his eyes, and it felt incredibly satisfying. Crazy woman? Yeah, in their eyes, I went to prison for him, and seeing this, I was supposed to throw a tantrum like a hysterical mess. But I wouldn’t. I turned to the camera, flashing a brilliant smile, my voice steady and clear: “Hello, everyone watching online, and all the media friends here. My name is Amanda Lowe. I’m the former girlfriend of this deeply devoted Mr. Jason Grayson. And I’m also the ex-convict who took the blame for his hit-and-run three years ago—and was just released from prison.” The ballroom erupted like a bomb had gone off. “Oh my god! She took the blame?!” “What did she just say? Jason Grayson was the one who did the hit-and-run?!” “This is huge! Record it! Hurry!” The security guards froze, unsure what to do. “Sis…” Amy finally snapped out of it. She struggled to stand halfway from her wheelchair, then collapsed back into it weakly, tears streaming down her face like broken beads. “Sis, please don’t say that! I know you hate me for taking Jason, but… but you were the one driving that night! Don’t destroy everything Jason has built just because you’re jealous!” She looked so pitiful, sobbing like that, that it stirred a protective instinct in many of the onlookers. My mother, Karen Shaw, rushed out from somewhere, grabbing my arm with nails digging into my flesh. Through gritted teeth, she hissed at me: “You ungrateful child! You had to show up now of all times?! Your sister is sick—she can’t handle this stress! Are you trying to kill her? Get out of here right now!” I turned to look at my biological mother. Her eyes held only tenderness for her younger daughter—and disgust for her elder one. I yanked my arm free, so hard she stumbled back several steps. “Don’t touch me. You make me sick.” I looked at her coldly, then turned back to Jason, raising the mic to my lips, mimicking the tone he’d used with me three years ago in that visitation room: “Jason, what are you so nervous about? Three years ago, you said to me through that glass—’Amanda, trust me, wait for me.’ So now I’m waiting. And what do I find? You using the money from selling my freedom to marry my sister?” Jason’s body went rigid. Sweat beaded on his forehead. “Amanda, what the hell do you want?!” he hissed, voice low enough for only the three of us to hear. “Is it money? I’ll give it to you! Ten million—is that enough? Take it and get out of the country. Forever.” “Ten million?” I laughed, the sound carrying through the microphone. “Grayson, do you think three years of my life—and an innocent person’s life—is worth ten million?” I stepped back, facing the flashing cameras, and dropped the biggest bomb of the night: “Since my sister says I’m jealous, as her older sister, I should give her an engagement gift. Here it is—the original footage from the dashcam from that accident three years ago, the one you two tried so hard to destroy. Jason, guess what’s on it?” Jason’s pupils shrank. He looked like he’d been plunged into freezing water. The bomb had detonated. I didn’t give them a chance to respond. I tossed the microphone to the floor with a harsh thud. And with everyone’s shocked, curious, and frantic eyes on me, I straightened my back, walked out of the ballroom like a victorious queen, and never looked back. Behind me was utter chaos—and Jason’s furious roar. 0

The night air hit me as soon as I stepped out of the hotel. Only then did I realize my back was soaked through. The rush of revenge faded like the tide, replaced by a deep exhaustion and wariness. I knew that once my words spread online, Jason would come after me like a rabid dog. I had to disappear. Now. I hurried into a dead-end alley with no cameras and was about to pull out my SIM card when my phone screen lit up. A text from an unknown number. Just one line: “The dashcam footage you mentioned—is it the original copy?” My heart sank. My blood ran cold. The only people who knew about that dashcam, aside from me and Jason, were a few of his trusted people from back then. Jason wouldn’t text me like this—he’d just send men to grab me. So who was this? They were in the shadows. I was in the open. Not only did they know I had leverage, but they were even questioning whether I’d been bluffing on that live stream. The word “original” hit me right where it hurt. I didn’t reply. I shut off the phone, yanked out the SIM card, snapped it in half, and flushed it down a sewer grate. I couldn’t go home—that place belongs to Karen and Amy now. I didn’t reach out to any old friends either. I knew Jason’s methods too well. I couldn’t drag anyone else into this. With the little cash I had left, I found a small motel on the outskirts that didn’t require ID, then bought a cheap burner phone and an untraceable prepaid SIM from a used electronics shop. By the time I was done, it was late at night. The room was small and damp, smelling of mold. I sat on the stiff mattress and stared at the neon lights blinking outside the window, my eyes cold and empty. Less than half an hour after I turned on the new phone, it rang. I looked at the unknown number flashing on the screen, let out a cold laugh, and answered. “Amanda, where the hell are you hiding?!” Jason’s voice on the other end was hoarse and distorted with rage and fear. He had already tracked down my new number that fast. I clearly underestimated his reach in this city. “Mr. Grayson, in such a hurry to find me—are you inviting me to your wedding?” I leaned against the wall, my tone light as if we were talking about the weather. “Cut the crap!” Jason was breathing heavily. “Let’s talk. Name your price. How much do you want for the footage? Houses, cars, cash—just name it. But don’t make me do this the hard way. You know what I’m capable of.” “The hard way?” I scoffed. “Like what you did to my brakes three years ago?” Silence. Dead silence on the other end. “Listen to me, Jason.” I dropped the smile, my voice cold as a blade dipped in ice. “Three years ago, you tricked me into taking the fall, promising to take care of my mom and sister. Now, I want the penthouse downtown—the one worth eighty million. By noon tomorrow, I want to see the deed transferred to my name. One dollar short, one minute late, and you’ll be dealing with the police.” “Eighty million?! Amanda, you’re insane! That’s extortion!” Jason completely lost it. With his company’s current cash flow, pulling out eighty million in a single day would be like ripping out his spine.. That was exactly what I wanted—to make him hurt, to make him panic, to make him lose his cool. “Then don’t pay. We’ll see each other in court.” Without another word, I hung up and blocked the number. I could picture him smashing up his office in helpless rage. But this was far from over. I put down the phone. The mysterious text message came back to mind. Then my phone buzzed again. Same unknown number. This time, they were calling. I took a deep breath and answered. “Miss Amanda Lowe, hello.” A low, raspy male voice came through—weary, but sharp. “I’m Leo Meyers. My father was the truck driver killed in that accident three years ago. I think we need to meet.” My eyes went wide. Leo Meyers. The boy who’d stared at me in that courtroom with bloodshot eyes, wanting to tear me apart. 0

Leo’s words hit me like lightning, cutting through the fog. If it was him, it all made sense. He had every motive to investigate the truth, and every reason to hate Jason to the core. “When and where,” I asked with no hesitation. “Tomorrow, 8 a.m. The abandoned auto shop garage south of the city.” I couldn’t sleep all night after I hung up. The next morning, I arrived at that desolate, rusting garage on the south side. The air stank of oil and rust. Leo stepped out from behind a beat-up van. Three years had aged him—stubble, weary lines—but his eyes were as sharp as a hawk’s. He looked at me, his gaze complicated—hatred, yes, but also a trace of curiosity. “Ms. Lowe. Brave of you to come alone,” he said flatly. “You reached out to me. That means you’ve found something. My enemy’s enemy is my friend. Why wouldn’t I come?” I held his gaze without flinching. Leo paused, then pulled a thick stack of papers from his worn backpack and tossed them onto a rusted oil drum. “See for yourself.” I stepped forward and opened the files. After just a few pages, my hands began to tremble uncontrollably. Financial statements. Money trails. A few shady double contracts. “My dad wasn’t just a truck driver,” Leo’s voice echoed through the empty garage, heavy with suppressed rage. “He was an early logistics contractor for Jason’s company. He stumbled onto evidence that Jason was using shell companies to launder money—massive commercial fraud. My dad was an honest man. He was going to report it. And on his way to the police station—that ‘accident’ happened.” My mind went blank. Commercial fraud? Money laundering? Murder?! I stared at those documents. The cold numbers and signatures slithered like vipers. So that wasn’t just a hit-and-run. Jason wasn’t just afraid of jail—he was covering up a premeditated murder. And I, like a complete fool, had taken the fall and even felt grateful to him. A wave of nausea and dread shot up from my feet. “Jason cleaned up the scene well. Cameras were broken and no witnesses,” Leo continued, his voice cracking, eyes bloodshot. “You took the blame. He played the victim’s family and gave me a settlement check like he was being generous. Amanda, do you realize you helped a killer escape justice?” “I didn’t know…” I whispered, my nails digging into my palms so hard they drew blood. “I really didn’t know…” “Now you do.” Leo took a breath, steadying himself. “I’ve been digging for three years. These documents prove financial crimes, but they’re not enough for a murder conviction. But your dashcam footage can change that. If it proves he was driving, proves he hit my father on purpose—then he’s done for.” I looked at Leo, the same fire igniting in my eyes. “Okay. I’ll work with you.” I said each word deliberately. “We’ll make him pay.” After I left Leo, I didn’t go back to the motel. My prison-honed instincts told me I was being followed. I deliberately took a winding route through a residential area, and sure enough, spotted two shady men in black trailing me. Jason was faster than I’d expected. Using my knowledge of the area, I lost them and immediately contacted Leo. He picked me up and took me to a basement apartment he’d rented on the outskirts. “You’re safe here for now.” Leo handed me a bottle of water. “What’s your next move?” I turned on my phone. Online, the tide of public opinion had already flipped completely. Jason’s PR team had moved fast. They’d not only buried the buzz from my live stream, but they’d turned it against me. The top trending post was a video of Amy crying in a hospital bed. Pale and fragile, she said: “My sister was under a lot of stress in prison, her mental health has been unstable. She just loves Jason too much. I don’t blame her—I just hope she gets the help she needs…” Then came my mother Karen’s interview. She wept on camera: “My eldest daughter has always been extreme and violent. I failed to raise her right. I’m so sorry she did this to her sister and brother-in-law…” They’d painted me as a lovesick, mentally unstable lunatic. The comments poured in—thousands of people cursing me. Someone even doxxed me, vowing to take matters into their own hands. “Those animals!” Leo slammed the table. I stared at my mother’s hypocritical face on the screen, and felt nothing. Shockingly calm. When you’re past the point of caring, nothing hurts anymore. “Let them talk.” I turned off my phone, a cold smile curling at my lips. “The higher they climb, the harder they fall. Leo, I need a micro camera and a drone. Tomorrow, I’m sending Jason a special gift.” I used the burner number to text Jason: “Tomorrow 3 p.m. Abandoned chemical plant, west side. Bring five million in cash. Come alone. Otherwise, the dashcam footage goes to every police department in the city.” 0

The abandoned chemical plant on the west side was overgrown and crumbling. I arrived at 2 p.m. I hid the micro camera on a rusted iron shelf on the second floor, with a clear view of the entire open area below. Leo was parked in a car a few miles away, piloting the drone as it circled above the plant, monitoring every movement in the area in real time. So we have a Plan B stand by. At exactly 3 p.m., a black Maybach pulled up in a cloud of dust. The door opened and Jason Grayson stepped out, carrying a silver briefcase. He wore a black trench coat, his eyes dark and predatory. I stood in the shadows on the second floor, watching him coldly. “Amanda! I’m here! Get out here!” His voice echoed through the empty building. I walked down the rusted iron stairs, step by step. The clang of my heels on the metal was sharp and unnerving in the silence. “Mr. Grayson, punctual as always.” I stopped about fifteen feet away. Jason’s eyes were fixed on me, burning with murderous intent. He threw the briefcase on the ground—thud—and flipped it open. Stacks of cash. “Five million. Every dollar.” He ground out the words. “Now give me the footage. Take the money and disappear.” I stared at that suitcase of cash and suddenly started laughing, so hard tears nearly came. “Five million? Jason, are you tipping a waitress?” I stopped laughing, my eyes cutting like blades. “All that money you laundered through shell companies, the life you took to cover it up—that’s worth five million to you?” Jason’s face went pale, his pupils contracting. “What… what the hell are you talking about!” “Am I talking nonsense? Was Leo’s father’s death really an accident?” I stepped closer. “You were afraid he’d report you, so you ran him down on purpose. Then you used my feelings for you to make me take the blame. Jason, you’re a monster.” “Shut up!” Jason, cornered, finally dropped all pretense. He raised his hand and four burly men with iron pipes rushed in from outside, surrounding me. “Amanda, you had your chance! Did you really think I’d come alone?” Jason’s face twisted into a manic grin. “Since you know too much, go keep that dead truck driver company! Beat her—leave her breathing, and find that footage!” The four men closed in. Then, at that exact moment, the factory doors were shoved open again. “Stop! Jason, no!” Amy was in her wheelchair, pushed by my mother Karen, both of them rushing in with panic written all over their faces. “Amy? Mom? What are you two doing here?!” Jason froze. Amy threw herself at Jason, gripping his arm desperately: “Jason, you can’t kill anyone! My sister just made a mistake—please let her go!” Karen rushed forward too, jabbing her finger in my face. “You jinx! Are you really going to drag this whole family down with you?! Just give him what he wants and walk away! If you want to destroy yourself, don’t you dare take us with you!” I stared at the scene unfolding in front of me and felt nothing but a hollow, bitter amusement. How did they know to come here? The answer was obvious — either Amy had been following Jason, or Jason had brought them here on purpose. Amy was putting on a show. In front of Jason, she played the role of the gentle, caring angel. But underneath it all, she couldn’t wait to see me gone. And my mother — she had always been Amy’s most loyal accomplice. “Family?” I laughed coldly and stepped back. From my pocket, I pulled out a black USB drive and held it high. All eyes locked onto that tiny device. Jason’s eyes lit up with greed. “You want it?” I looked at them, a wild smile on my lips. “Amanda, don’t do anything stupid! Give it to me!” Jason lunged forward. “Stay back!” I shouted. Then, in front of all of them, I smashed that USB drive onto the ground. Crack! The USB drive exploded into pieces. I lifted my foot and ground every last fragment into dust with my stiletto heel. Dead silence fell over the room. Jason froze. Amy froze. Karen froze. A few seconds passed, Jason burst into manic laughter: “Hahaha! Amanda, you stupid bitch! You just destroyed your only evidence! Now what are you going to threaten me with?!” He raised his hand and barked at his men: “Grab her! I’ll make her wish she was dead!” I watched his smug, ugly face, completely calm. And then I gave him a look of pure pity. “Jason, do you really think three years in prison rotted my brain?” I smiled, speaking slowly and clearly: “Did you really think I’d carry the original on me? It was a throwaway drive with a couple of pop songs on it.” Jason’s laughter died in his throat. His face went rigid. “Ten minutes ago, the real dashcam footage—along with all the evidence of your financial crimes—was personally handed over to the detectives at the Economic Crimes Division and the Criminal Investigation Division by my partner.”

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