Category: English

I was scrolling through Instagram when I saw the digital invitation. Lydia—now Lydia Thorne, apparently—was getting married on March 15th. In the kitchen, Mike was humming to himself, stirring a pot of slow-simmered bone broth he’d insisted on making for my “sensitive stomach.” Our mutual friends were already flooding the comments with heart emojis and rowdy plans for the bachelorette party. I leaned against the kitchen island, tilting my phone toward him with a tight smile. “Lydia’s wedding is this weekend. Are you going?” Mike didn’t even look up from the stove. “Of course not,” he said easily. “We have your twenty-week anatomy scan this weekend. I wouldn’t miss seeing the peanut’s first ‘real’ photos for anything in the world.” I wanted to believe him. Lydia had spent five years pining for Mike, a fixation so intense it had nearly derailed her engagement to Wyatt more times than I could count. But that night, when I got up to use the bathroom, I saw Mike standing on the balcony. The glow of his cigarette was a lonely red spark in the dark. He was staring at nothing, lost in a place I couldn’t reach. I opened my mouth to call his name, but my phone buzzed in my hand. A panicked voice note from our old college group chat screamed through the silence: “Guys! Lydia just jumped! She’s at Memorial Central in the ER right now!” In the next heartbeat, Mike was gone. He didn’t look back. He didn’t grab a jacket. He just shoved past me, his eyes bloodshot and wild, and disappeared into the night. I stood in the hallway, the cold air from the open door settling deep into my bones. … Outside the ICU, Mike didn’t look like the calm, collected therapist I had married. He looked like a man possessed. He swung a fist, catching Wyatt square in the jaw, sending him sprawling against the linoleum. “How could you do this to her?” Mike roared, his voice cracking. “The week of your wedding? What did you do?” Wyatt wiped a smear of blood from his lip, letting out a jagged, hollow laugh. “Oh, now you’re the hero? You’re the reason she called it off, Mike. Don’t act like you don’t know why she did it.” Mike froze. His shadow flickered against the sterile white walls. “We’re just friends, Wyatt. We were classmates. That’s all.” Before he could finish the lie, the “In Progress” light above the surgical suite flickered off. Mike moved faster than I’d ever seen him move. When the surgeon finally emerged and whispered the words “she’s stable,” I watched the tension drain out of Mike’s body so violently he nearly hit the floor. That’s when Wyatt noticed me standing in the corner. He looked at me with a pity that felt like a slap. “Nicole,” Wyatt said, his voice dripping with venom. “Your husband says they’re just friends. Do you believe him?” Mike stiffened. He didn’t turn around. Did I believe him? I asked myself the same question. Mike and I had been “Mike and Nicole” for twenty-three years. Childhood sweethearts, the gold standard for everyone we knew. When Lydia’s obsession became public knowledge back in college, people whispered that a “soulmate” was no match for a “predator.” I’d been terrified then, too. But Mike had shut her out. He’d promised me, over and over, “Nicole, it’s only ever been you. We’re building a life. We’re going to be happy forever.” But watching him now—watching the way his hands shook with relief for a woman who wasn’t his wife—the foundation of that “forever” began to crumble. On the drive home, the silence was a third passenger. Mike tried the usual script. He said Wyatt was just a jealous prick, that he was making something out of nothing. But all I could hear was Wyatt’s voice. Do you believe him? The next morning, Mike was up at 5:00 AM making artisan breakfast dumplings from scratch. “Sweetheart, wake up. You need to eat,” he called out, his voice a perfect imitation of the man I loved. I stared at the steaming bowl. “You didn’t have to do all this. I could have just had cereal.” He took my hand, pressing a kiss to my knuckles with a tenderness that felt almost like an apology. “Store-bought is full of sodium. You’re eating for two now. I’ve already mapped out your nutrition plan for the trimester. I’m taking care of you, Nicole. Always.” Despite the knot in my stomach, I felt a flicker of the old warmth. Then, his phone buzzed. “Hey, Mike, the group is headed to the hospital to see Lydia. You and Nicole coming?” our friend’s voice echoed through the speaker. Mike looked me in the eye, his expression firm. “No. I’m taking Nicole to her ultrasound. I don’t have time.” I blinked, surprised. “I mean, we could go for a bit after.” “No,” Mike said, his gaze unwavering. “You and the baby are the only things that matter. Today is the first time I get to see our child’s face. I wouldn’t miss that for the world.” The doubt from the night before began to evaporate. He was here. He was choosing us. But an hour later, as I was sitting in the OB-GYN waiting room, his phone rang again. It was his clinic partner. A “high-risk patient with severe depressive tendencies” was in crisis and needed him immediately. He stood up, looking tortured. “Nicole, it’s an emergency. I have to go. Do the scan, record it for me? I’m so sorry.” He didn’t wait for my answer. He turned and ran. A cold, sickening intuition took hold of me. I didn’t wait for my name to be called. I followed him. Mike didn’t drive back to his office. He went straight back to the hospital. I stood in the doorway of the recovery wing and watched Lydia throw herself into my husband’s arms, sobbing into his chest. My last shred of hope withered and died. “I couldn’t do it, Mike,” Lydia wailed, her voice thick with calculated misery. “I can’t marry him when I’m in love with you. It hurts so much. I just wanted it to stop. I just wanted to die…” Lydia’s mother stood by the bed, her eyes red-rimmed. “Mike, she’s loved you for five years. I don’t care that you’re married. She’s my only daughter. You can’t just leave her like this. You’re a doctor—fix her.” Mike didn’t say a word. He just held her, his face a mask of agonizing pity. I watched them from the hall, feeling like an intruder in my own life. If it weren’t for me—if it weren’t for twenty-three years of history—maybe they would be the ones planning a nursery. The air in the hallway felt thin. I couldn’t breathe. I walked into the room. Mike’s face went white. He shoved Lydia away instantly. Lydia, ever the actress, forced a weak, pathetic smile. “Nicole… don’t be mad. Mike was just… checking on me. I’m okay now. You guys should go.” Her mother snapped. “Okay? How is she okay? My daughter is suicidal because of you people! I don’t care about your marriage. You owe her, Mike. You have to take responsibility!” I found my voice, though it sounded like it belonged to someone else. “And how exactly should he do that?” The mother didn’t blink. “Leave your wife. Be with my daughter. Save her life.” Mike flinched, his jaw working but no words coming out. Lydia grabbed her mother’s hand, looking at me with wide, tearful eyes. “Mom, stop. You’re joking. Nicole, ignore her. Please.” A bitter laugh escaped me. It wasn’t a joke. It was a roadmap. When we got home, Mike buried himself in his home office and didn’t come out. By 7:00 PM, I was lightheaded with hunger. I knocked on his door. “Mike? What are we doing for dinner?” He didn’t look up from his laptop. “Order something on DoorDash, okay? I’m swamped. I’m drafting a specialized recovery protocol for Lydia. I don’t have time to cook.” I walked over and shut his laptop. “You promised me this morning you’d cook every meal. And you shouldn’t even be her therapist, Mike. It’s an ethical nightmare. It’s—” “Nicole, enough!” Mike snapped, his voice uncharacteristically sharp. “Lydia is in a critical state! Her depression is a direct result of her feelings for me. I am the only person who can reach her right now. If she actually kills herself next time, could you live with that? Because I couldn’t.” I felt like he’d doused me in ice water. Mike saw my expression and immediately softened, reaching out to pull me into his arms. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, baby. I’m just stressed. I’m trying to save a life here…” I leaned into him, but my eyes drifted to his computer screen. The file labeled Pregnancy Nutrition had been minimized. The active window was a document titled Lydia – Comprehensive Recovery Plan. Just then, his phone lit up on the desk. [Mike, thank you for agreeing to see me professionally. But I feel terrible. You’re going to be a father soon. Go be with Nicole. Don’t waste your time on someone as broken as me.] Mike sighed, closing his eyes. “Forget it. Let’s go get some air. Let’s go to dinner.” “I’m not hungry anymore,” I said, turning for the bedroom. He caught my arm. “Nicole, please. It’s my fault. Hate me, yell at me, but don’t starve the baby. Our little guy needs to eat.” I looked down at my stomach and nodded, the guilt for my unborn child winning out over my pride. At the restaurant, Mike’s phone was a buzzing insect on the table. Lydia. Lydia. Lydia. He didn’t answer, but he didn’t turn it off. He just flipped it face down. “Just take it,” I said, staring at my salad. “In case it’s an emergency.” He shook his head. “No. You’re right. There have to be boundaries. If I’m going to help her, I have to be her doctor, not her crutch. The most important thing right now is you and the baby.” For a moment, the cloud lifted. Maybe I was being paranoid. Maybe his “savior complex” was just hitting overdrive. We were waiting for the check when my phone rang. An unknown number. I answered it, and a piercing, jagged scream filled my ear. “Where is Mike? Put him on! Put him on right now!” “She cut her wrists! Lydia’s bleeding out! Please, just let her have him! Please save my daughter!” Mike’s face drained of all color. He stood up so fast his chair toppled over. “Nicole, take an Uber home,” he said, his voice trembling. “I have to go. I have to go right now.” I sat there, frozen, and watched him run out of the restaurant. Mike didn’t come home that night. He didn’t answer my texts. He didn’t answer my calls. I spent the night staring at my phone until I saw Lydia’s latest post. It was a photo of Mike’s back as he stood by a hospital window, the sunrise hitting his shoulders. The caption was a single line: [You are the light at the end of my tunnel.] I closed my eyes and prayed. Please, Mike. Don’t destroy us. Please don’t let me down. The following weeks were a blur of loneliness. Mike was a ghost. He left before I woke up and came home long after I was asleep. The promises of homemade meals and “taking care of me” were gone, replaced by lukewarm takeout and distracted apologies. “Lydia’s case is complicated, Nicole. She’s only responding to me. I just need to get her through the woods, then I can step back.” Part of me felt for her. I knew what it was like to love someone so much you felt like you were drowning. But I also knew that if she died, she would become a martyr in Mike’s mind forever. I wanted him to fix her so she could finally go away. The next afternoon, I went to Mike’s clinic to drop off his lunch. The elevator was crowded. A couple of delivery guys were moving office furniture, shielding me from view in the back corner. Then, I heard two voices that made my heart stop. “Sweetie, this office is incredible,” Lydia’s mother said, her voice bright and energized. “Mike is doing so well for himself. Much better than that loser Wyatt.” Lydia let out a soft, melodic laugh. “I told you, Mom. Once Mike heard I was ‘depressed,’ he forgot all about his perfect little domestic life. It’s only a matter of time now.” There wasn’t a hint of sadness in her voice. No heaviness. No trauma. Just cold, sharp ambition. I stood paralyzed as the elevator doors opened. By the time I regained my senses, they were halfway down the hall. I scrambled out, shouting her name. “Lydia! Stop!” She turned, startled. I caught up to them, my chest heaving. “You’re faking it. You’re lying to him. You aren’t depressed at all, are you?” Lydia’s eyes darted around for a split second, then, as if a switch had been flipped, her face crumpled. She burst into violent, racking sobs. Her mother instantly pulled her into her arms, glaring at me with practiced fury. “How dare you?” the mother screamed. “My daughter is fragile, and you’re attacking her? You’re a monster!” Mike stepped out of his office, his brow furrowed. “What’s going on?” The mother turned the theatrics up to eleven. “Mike! Your wife is accusing Lydia of faking her illness! She’s saying Lydia is trying to ruin your marriage! She told us to get out and never come back!” Mike looked at me, his eyes dark with a disappointment that cut deeper than any blade. “Nicole,” he said quietly. “When did you become so cruel? Lydia is sick because of me. It is my responsibility to help her.” “Mike, listen to me,” I pleaded, my voice shaking. “I heard them in the elevator. They were laughing. They admitted it was a game to get you back—” “Enough!” Mike’s voice boomed in the hallway. I flinched. In twenty-three years, he had never raised his voice to me. Not once. Lydia stepped between us, looking like a broken bird. “It’s my fault! Please, don’t fight. I’ll go. I’ll just go.” “You aren’t going anywhere,” Mike said, grabbing her arm to steady her. He looked at me as if I were a stranger. “Lydia is in this position because of my choices, Nicole. When did you become so petty? You’re so blinded by jealousy that you’d rather see a woman die than lose a little bit of my time? I don’t even know who you are anymore.” His words were poison. I turned and ran, the tears blinding me. I made it as far as the curb outside the clinic. I didn’t see the courier on the electric bike speeding through the red light. The impact sent me sprawling onto the pavement. A sharp, hot pain exploded in my abdomen. I looked down and saw a dark, terrifying stain spreading across my jeans. I fumbled for my phone, my hands slick with blood. I called Mike. “Mike… please… I fell… something’s wrong. The baby… Mike, help me…” There was a long silence on the other end. Then, a weary sigh. “Nicole, stop it. I love you, okay? You know that. But Lydia is my patient, and I am in the middle of a session. Please stop these theatrics. It’s beneath you.” He hung up. I wanted to laugh, but all that came out was a sob. Mike was a brilliant therapist. He could spot a manipulation a mile away. But the guilt had blinded him so completely that he’d broken every ethical rule in the book—and in the process, he’d stopped being able to see the truth. He wasn’t saving Lydia because of guilt. He was saving her because he wanted to be the hero in her story. When I woke up, the world was white and smelled of bleach. The doctor’s face told me everything before he opened his mouth. “You’re young,” he said, his voice heavy with a rehearsed kindness. “You can try again. You should call your husband. You shouldn’t be alone for this.” I touched my stomach. It was flat. Empty. This had been our miracle. We’d spent five years trying. Countless doctors, failed rounds of IVF, the bitter taste of herbal supplements that did nothing. Mike had once held me while I cried and told me, “Nicole, it’s okay. If it’s just us, you’re enough. You’re my only girl.” I had believed him. I had stopped feeling broken because of him. I didn’t call him. And he didn’t call me. I lay there for hours, wondering if Mike had ever actually loved me, or if I was just a habit he hadn’t known how to break. I thought of Wyatt’s words again. I sent Wyatt a message. I need to know the truth. A minute later, he sent a video file. [See for yourself.] I clicked play. The timestamp was from the night before my wedding to Mike. In the video, Lydia is on her knees in front of Mike, sobbing. “Mike, you’re getting married tomorrow. I know I’ve lost. But just give me one night. One night to say goodbye, and I promise I’ll never bother you again. Please.” In the video, Mike tries to push her away. He stands up to leave. Lydia collapses on the floor, a heap of misery. But then, Mike stops. He turns back. He picks her up, and then he kisses her—a desperate, hungry kiss that didn’t look like “just classmates.” My heart didn’t break; it shattered into dust. I remembered our wedding day. Mike had looked exhausted. I’d thought it was just the stress of the planning. I’d spent the whole day trying to take care of him. Wyatt sent another text: [They met up again right before Lydia and I were supposed to get married. I think you can guess the rest.] [The suicide attempt was a play. The depression was a lie. She didn’t want to marry me; she wanted to force Mike’s hand.] The screen blurred. I had been so confident. I thought our history was a fortress. But the night Mike ran out of the house because she “jumped,” I should have known. You don’t run like that for a friend. You run like that for the person who holds your heart. The next morning, I checked myself out of the hospital. Mike arrived home at noon, carrying a bouquet of lilies—my favorite. He probably thought a few flowers would fix the “fight” we’d had. When he saw I wasn’t in bed, he called me, his voice sounding annoyed. “Nicole, enough is enough. Where are you? You’re pregnant, you shouldn’t be wandering around—” A nurse from the ward, who had stayed over to help me finish my paperwork, snatched the phone out of my hand. She’d seen me crying all night. “What kind of husband are you?” she snapped into the receiver. “Your wife was brought in yesterday after an accident. She lost the baby. Where the hell were you?” I heard the sound of something shattering on the other end of the line. Mike’s voice came through, a ghost of a whisper. “What? What did you say?”

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My husband and I were the youngest tenure-track professors at the university. I had just officially stepped aside, giving him my slot for the prestigious international research fellowship in London, when he came home to make a confession. “June, I’ve fallen in love with someone else. She only finished high school, but she’s… vibrant. Pure. She has a kind of courage neither of us ever had.” He paused, looking at me with a mixture of pity and resolve. “You’re not like her. You’re established here; you have a brilliant career ahead of you in the States. But her? She needs to get out. Going with me is her only chance at a real life.” He took a breath, then added, “I’ll leave you everything in the divorce. The house, the savings—take it. It doesn’t matter. Once I’m overseas, I’ll have everything I need.” I nodded slowly, my voice trapped in my throat. I agreed to his terms. Then, as soon as the door closed behind him, I dialed the Provost’s office. If he was so intent on leaving with nothing, he could start by leaving behind the fellowship I’d gifted him. 1. Arthur actually had the audacity to chuckle when he saw the shock in my eyes. “Daisy is just… she’s a beautiful soul, June.” “She used to bring me late-night takeout when I was pulling all-nighters in the lab. She’d just leave it at the door and text me a heart.” “When the pressure got too high, she’d just sit next to me in silence. She doesn’t understand the physics, but she’s willing to try and understand me.” In that moment, I forgot how to breathe. The year Arthur was finishing his PhD, he worked himself into a literal stomach ulcer. I was the one who stayed by his hospital bed for three days and nights, feeding him broth spoonful by spoonful. The first time his grant proposal was rejected and he locked himself in his office, I was the one who climbed through the window with a bottle of scotch and sat on the floor with him until dawn. I thought those things didn’t need to be said. We were a team. We had crawled out of the same state-run group home together, two kids with nothing in this world but each other’s ambitions. But now, the very things that were supposed to be understood—the years of silent, grinding support—were being used as his justification for leaving. I forced my hands to stop shaking and found my voice. “You’re thirty years old, Arthur. She’s eighteen. She’s a child.” He didn’t even flinch. “I know. Age is just a number when two souls connect.” I looked him dead in the eye. “You started university at sixteen. You have a doctorate. You’re a rising star in academia. She’s a girl who barely passed her GED.” Arthur’s brow furrowed. “June, don’t be an elitist. Education isn’t the same thing as character. I won’t have you looking down on her.” I felt like he’d doused me in ice water. Maybe my expression was too horrific to look at, because his tone softened slightly. “Look, June, you don’t need to cling to me. You have your work. You have your chair. You’ll be fine without me.” I waited for the ‘but.’ “But Daisy is different,” he continued, his eyes glazing over with a sickening kind of tenderness. “Her parents split when she was a toddler. She was raised by a grandmother who died last year. She’s been alone since then. Do you have any idea how hard it is for a girl like that? No degree, no connections, just scraping by in a world that wants to chew her up?” He actually looked misty-eyed. “She needs this. She needs a fresh start in a place where no one knows her past. She needs me to save her.” It was absurd. I was six when I was dumped in that group home. When I was twelve and burning up with a 104-degree fever, the staff told me to “tough it out.” I was the one who crawled out of bed and walked two miles to the clinic alone. When I got into the best prep school in the state on a scholarship at sixteen, I didn’t have money for the meal plan. I spent my weekends scrubbing floors to pay for my books. I had clawed my way up every single inch of the mountain. But he didn’t see that. He only saw the girl who was “pure” enough to play the victim, the one who made him feel like a hero. Just this afternoon, the Provost had called me into his office. He told me there was only one opening for the prestigious fellowship in London this year. After looking at the publications, they wanted me. I declined. I told him Arthur needed the opportunity more, that his research direction was better suited for the European labs. I told him I was happy to stay behind and manage our department. The Provost had been surprised, but he’d smiled. “You’re a supportive wife, June.” I wasn’t a “supportive wife.” I was just the girl who remembered being twelve years old when the home gave out one piece of candy per child, and Arthur gave me his. I remembered being fifteen when some local kids tried to jump me, and Arthur ended up with a broken nose protecting me. I remembered being eighteen, both of us broke in college, and him eating ramen for a month so he could buy me a decent coat for my first internship. I thought we were family. And now, the moment I handed him his future on a silver platter, he was planning to use it to fly another woman away. She needed a new life. What about mine? I grabbed the glass of water from the coffee table and hurled it at him. “Get out!” The glass clipped his shoulder and shattered against the floor, soaking his expensive wool sweater. He didn’t move. He just reached into his bag, pulled out a manila envelope, and set it on the table. “The divorce papers are already signed,” he said quietly. “Like I said, I’m taking nothing. The house, the equity, the accounts—it’s all yours. Everything we built here stays with you.” He hesitated. “Think about it. When you’re ready to be rational, we’ll go to the courthouse.” 2. Arthur left, and I knew he wasn’t coming back tonight. The silence in the living room was deafening, punctuated only by the drip of water from the table. I walked into the bathroom and stared at the woman in the mirror. I saw the lack of sleep in the dark circles under my eyes, the subtle fine lines at the corners of my lids, the way my face had thinned out from years of stress and ambition. I looked like a woman approaching thirty who worked sixty hours a week. I didn’t look like an eighteen-year-old girl. But I had been eighteen once. I had been the one with the glowing skin and the bright eyes, looking at him as if he were the sun. I had been the one who skipped three grades and started my Master’s alongside him because I couldn’t bear to be behind. Because I loved him, I had nearly erased myself. I edited his papers. I polished his grant proposals. I stayed up until 3:00 AM pulling data for his projects. In the beginning, he was guilty about it. “June, thank you. I’ll make it up to you, I swear. We’ll go to the Caribbean as soon as this is over.” Then it became: “Can you just take one more look at this?” And finally: “Finish this and email it to me when you’re done.” The year he got his Associate Professor title, I had even let him put his name as lead author on one of my papers. He’d said his tenure track was more “precarious” than mine, that he needed the win more. I was the fool. I hadn’t realized that while I was building a pedestal for him, I was digging my own grave. I hadn’t realized that at twenty-nine, I was already the more successful academic. I was the youngest full professor in the department’s history. And I had almost given it all to him. I looked at my reflection and slapped myself. Hard. The sting on my cheek was nothing compared to the rot in my chest. June, you absolute idiot. Betrayal by a man is one thing. Betrayal of your own potential is an unforgivable sin. My phone buzzed. A mutual friend had posted a photo to a group chat. There was Arthur at a local dive bar, his arm draped around a girl with messy blonde hair and a crop top. He was laughing. He looked… unburdened. I didn’t reply. I walked back into the living room, picked up the divorce papers, and signed my name with a steady hand. Then I called the Provost back. “Sir? About that London fellowship. I’ve had a change of heart. I want it.” There was a long silence on the other end. “Are you sure, June? Arthur just submitted his resignation for his current position. If you take that slot, he’s… well, he’s going to be out of a job and a project.” This time, I didn’t hesitate. “I’m sure. That was his choice. It has nothing to do with me.” I wasn’t a supportive wife anymore. And I was going to be an even worse ex-wife. 3. A few days later, I was at the federal building to expedite my visa paperwork when I ran into her. Lexie—the “pure, vibrant” girl Arthur was so obsessed with—was currently at the service counter, screaming at a clerk. “What do you mean I can’t get a long-stay visa without a sponsor or a work permit? That’s literally discrimination!” The clerk was trying to remain patient. “Ma’am, as I’ve explained, you don’t meet the educational or professional requirements for this specific visa category. You need a different form of application.” She wasn’t listening. Her voice rose an octave. A manager finally stepped out to escort her to a side seating area. I stayed in my line. When it was my turn, I handed over my university credentials and my fellowship award letter. The process was seamless. As I turned to leave, Lexie blocked my path. She pointed a finger at me and yelled at the manager, “Why does she get to go through and I don’t? Look at her! She’s way older than me! If she can go, why can’t I?” The manager sighed. “Ma’am, her qualifications and documentation are in order. This has nothing to do with you.” Lexie turned her glare on me. It was pure venom. “I know who you are. Artie told me everything. He said you’re a stalker who won’t sign the papers. Are you following him to London? Are you really that desperate?” She stepped closer, her breath smelling like cheap energy drinks. “You’re clinging to a man who doesn’t want you. You’re literally trying to be a third wheel in our relationship. Don’t you have any dignity, you old hag?” I’ve met all kinds of people in my life, but the sheer audacity of this girl was something new. I gave her a cold, thin smile. “Let’s get one thing straight. Arthur and I are still legally married. In the eyes of the law, I am his wife. You? You’re just a girl he’s using to feel young because he’s terrified of his own mediocrity.” She let out a harsh laugh. “What century are you living in? The one who isn’t loved is the real outsider. Do you know Artie drives forty minutes out of his way every night to bring me my favorite cupcakes? He stays up until 2:00 AM watching reality TV with me even when he has an 8:00 AM lecture. He tells everyone he’s ‘at the lab’ just so he can sneak out to see me.” My heart did a slow, painful somersault. All those nights I thought he was grinding away at his research. All those nights I stayed up late proofreading his work so he could “sleep,” he was actually with her. I had been fighting for our future while he was playing house with a teenager. “He also said you’re like a dead fish in bed,” she sneered, leaning in. “That’s why he’s leaving. You’re boring, June.” I didn’t think. My hand moved on its own. The slap echoed in the marble lobby. But before I could pull my hand back, a grip tightened around my wrist. It was painful. Arthur was suddenly there, his face contorted with rage. “June! What the hell are you doing?” Lexie immediately collapsed into him, her voice turning into a pathetic whimper. “Artie, I just wanted to help with the visa stuff so we could be together… and she just started calling me names… she said she was going to kill me…” Arthur’s eyes were like flint. “June, we signed the papers. We’re done. If you have a problem, take it out on me. Leave her out of this.” People were starting to whisper. “Is that the ex? God, how embarrassing.” “She looks so professional, but she’s acting like a crazy person.” The comments stung, but I kept my eyes on Arthur. This was a man I had known for twenty years. From the group home to our wedding day. I thought I knew every fiber of his soul. Now, he was a stranger. I took a deep breath and smoothed my coat. “Done? Fine. But if we’re truly ‘done,’ then I want everything back. The papers I wrote for you. The data I collected for your experiments. The projects I secured for you. And especially that lead-author credit on the paper that got you your promotion. Do you want to return those, Arthur?” I said it calmly, but Arthur’s face went white. In our world, that wasn’t just a divorce dispute. That was academic fraud. It could end his career in a heartbeat. His grip on my wrist loosened. “June… let’s not be dramatic.” I didn’t answer. I rubbed my wrist, turned around, and walked out into the sunlight. 4. For the next few days, my phone was a graveyard of texts from him. At first, he tried the “reasonable” approach: June, what happened at the federal building was a mess. Let’s just move on with our lives. Don’t say things you’ll regret about the papers. Let’s keep this civil. I didn’t reply. Then he started fishing, trying to see if I was actually going to report him for academic dishonesty. When I still didn’t respond, he turned nasty: June, think very carefully. If you try to burn me down, I’ll take you with me. We can both lose our jobs. Don’t be a spiteful bitch. I swiped the notifications away and turned off the screen. Eventually, the texts stopped. He probably assumed I was just blowing off steam and didn’t have the guts to follow through. He started posting on Instagram again. Photos of him and Lexie with captions like: When you finally find the one, time doesn’t matter. Arthur, who used to hate being in front of a camera, was suddenly grinning in every shot. Our mutual friends were losing their minds. People were tagging me, asking if we’d split, asking who the “mystery girl” was. He didn’t hide it. He went into the group chats and announced our divorce as if it were a victory. “Some people look good on paper,” he wrote, “but in real life, they’re just calculators. They don’t know how to live. My Lexie is pure. She hasn’t been corrupted by the ‘system’ like some people I know.” Everyone knew who he was talking about. The chat went silent for a few seconds. I received a dozen “I’m so sorry” texts. I ignored them all. The day my fellowship was officially processed, the university called me in. They were finalizing the travel grants and the formal announcement. As I walked toward the administration building, I saw them. Lexie was clinging to Arthur’s arm, practically hanging off him. When she saw me, she made a face and buried her head in his shoulder. Arthur stopped as I approached. He looked down at me with a strange kind of pity. “June,” he said softly. “It’s over. We’re moving on. It’s better this way.” I said nothing. He took a few steps past me, then looked back over his shoulder. He looked like a man who thought he’d won—the man who got the girl and the career, while his “boring” wife was left in the dust. We were called into the conference room. The Provost was there, along with the Dean of Sciences and a few people from the Ethics Committee I didn’t recognize. Arthur stood confidently at the head of the table. Lexie hovered by the door, trying to peek in. The Provost looked at us and picked up a folder. “We’ve called you here to announce the final selection for the London Fellowship. This year’s recipient is—”

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After my attempts to negotiate a divorce with my wife over her very public affair went nowhere, I started aggressively swiping her black card, trying to force her hand. I was at the jeweler, signing the receipt for my fifth luxury watch of the day, when my phone buzzed. It was her lover, calling to reprimand me. “Do you have any idea how to be a husband? At a time like this, you’re out buying Patek Philippes?” “The company’s cash flow is incredibly tight right now. Victoria is losing sleep over this every single night.” “You’re her husband, for God’s sake. Don’t you have a single ounce of empathy for her?” In the background, I could hear Victoria’s voice, low and soothing, murmuring something to calm him down. This was the fifty-ninth time he had called to lecture me about my spending. He was her company’s Chief Financial Officer. He was also the affair she refused to end. And for three years, we had been locked in a bitter, suffocating stalemate over a divorce she wouldn’t grant. I didn’t scream. I didn’t justify myself. I simply pressed the red button and cut him off. Then, I walked out of the boutique, drove straight to a high-end interior design showroom, and swiped the card for another $1.5 million on custom furniture and imported appliances. Moments later, Victoria called. I answered, and she let out a heavy, exhausted sigh—the kind reserved for a disobedient child. “From now on, Cameron is managing your accounts,” she announced, her tone clipped and authoritative. “If you need money, you submit a request to him. He’s the CFO. Maybe having to ask him will cure you of this absurd spending addiction.” I listened in silence. The quiet stretched, and my lack of a reaction began to irritate her. “What are you even trying to prove with all that garbage you bought? Can’t we just live our lives in peace?” “I’m just reminding you of our deal,” I said, my voice perfectly level. “Didn’t you say that the second I found someone else who actually wanted me, you’d let me go? You’d sign the papers?” I paused, looking at my reflection in the glass doors of the showroom. “Every dollar I spent today was to buy a dowry for my next wife.” “Honey, I found my true love.” …… There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line, followed by a soft, incredulous scoff. “Is this the only trick you have left?” Victoria asked, her voice dripping with disdain. “I really don’t have the energy for your tantrums today, Carter. We’re dealing with a crisis at the firm. I don’t expect you to understand the pressure, let alone help, but the least you can do is stay out of the way. Stop trying to get my attention by maxing out the Amex.” She sighed again, a calculated mix of exasperation and barely suppressed anger. “I’ve told you a thousand times. Your position as my husband is completely secure. Stop acting out. Please.” She was always like this. So suffocatingly certain of her own reality. She had been exactly like this three years ago, and she hadn’t changed a bit. In the background, I heard Cameron’s voice, laced with a mocking smirk. “You don’t think he actually found someone to step out on you with, do you?” “Please,” Victoria laughed, a sound full of supreme, unshakeable confidence. “Who else would have him? With his temper, I’m the only woman on earth who could tolerate him.” She always loved to tell people I had a bad temper. She never stopped to consider that it was her who had taken a mild-mannered, patient man and driven him to the edge of insanity. Years ago, when she spoke to me like this, I would lose my mind. I would scream until my throat bled. I had even stormed into the corporate headquarters, causing a massive scene, intent on humiliating both her and Cameron in front of the board. But now? Now, looking into the void of my own heart, I felt absolutely nothing. From the day I discovered her infidelity, I washed my hands of her company. I stopped caring if it thrived or burned to the ground. I stopped caring about her. For three years, she and Cameron paraded around town. Galas, charity dinners, industry events where I, as her husband, should have been standing by her side—she took him instead. She even brought him to family holidays, introducing him to her relatives while I was left at home. I became the ultimate punchline among the city’s elite. Yet, even when I was fighting tooth and nail, bleeding myself dry to force a divorce, she refused. She clung to the marriage, insisting I was the most important thing in her life. She had been so smug the day she laid down her challenge. “I know I’m the only one in your heart, Carter. You don’t have room for anyone else. If you really want a divorce, go find someone else first. Then we’ll talk.” She vastly overestimated her worth. And she tragically underestimated mine. The woman I had found was lightyears beyond her—in grace, in character, in everything that mattered. The line went dead. Still feeling a lingering itch of irritation, I walked into a luxury jeweler and asked to see a diamond tennis necklace. I handed over the card. The associate swiped it, frowned, and looked up with an apologetic wince. “Sir, I’m so sorry. It appears a limit has been placed on this account. It will only authorize transactions under fifty dollars.” My phone vibrated in my pocket. A text from Cameron. I hope you understand. Victoria is under an immense amount of stress right now. Once the company weathers this storm, I’ll see about raising your daily allowance above fifty bucks. Carter, please. Show some compassion for your wife and stop causing trouble for her. I stared at the screen and actually let out a laugh. A kept man, a home-wrecker, lecturing the lawful husband about showing compassion to his wife. He was playing the saint while actively rolling in the mud. And the worst part was, the rest of the world bought it. In high society, I was the useless, emasculated husband, while the entire extended family had tacitly accepted Cameron, even praising his business acumen. To her family, I was nothing but a discarded pawn—the son of a ruined dynasty whose parents were facing federal indictment, stripped of all my social and financial value. When I finally drove back to the sprawling estate I had called home for seven years, it felt like walking into a meat locker. Victoria and Cameron were sitting on the living room sofa, waiting for me. They were pressed together, thigh to thigh. Cameron’s hand rested casually on Victoria’s leg, his thumb lazily stroking her skin. It was a sight I had grown so numb to that it barely registered on my pulse. Seeing me walk in empty-handed, Cameron chuckled, patting Victoria’s leg as if he’d won a bet. “You called it. He was just throwing another tantrum.” Victoria let out a soft sigh, playing the role of the endlessly forgiving, exhausted wife. She stood up, Cameron rising with her, and took two steps toward me. I didn’t want to breathe the same air as them. I bypassed them, heading for the stairs. “Carter,” Victoria called out, her tone sharpening. “We need to talk.” I paused on the first step and looked back, a faint smile touching my lips. “About the divorce? Give me a second, let me conference in my attorney.” I threw it out just to shut her up. It was the only way to ensure our conversations ended before they began. Instantly, the color drained from Victoria’s face, a flicker of genuine, wounded panic flashing in her dark eyes. “Oh, stop with the dramatics,” she snapped, her expression hardening back into contempt. She grabbed a manila folder from the coffee table and shoved it toward me. “We need to cut costs at home. Cameron put together a budget plan for you. From now on, any personal expenses need to be submitted to him. If he approves the expense, he’ll transfer the funds.” I caught the fleeting, bitter shadow that crossed Cameron’s eyes. Every time I brought up divorce and Victoria vehemently shot it down, I could see the jealous rage practically eating him alive. But on the surface, he played the perfect, reasonable gentleman. “Carter,” Cameron said softly, “you don’t run the business, so you don’t understand the realities of keeping this empire afloat. Yes, there’s money, but liquidity is tight right now. Every dollar counts. We just need you to be a team player.” I gave a dry, dismissive scoff, ignoring Cameron entirely. I looked straight at Victoria. “Clear your schedule,” I said. “It’s time you met my fiancée.” Since she refused to believe me, I would just have to put it right in front of her face. Victoria sneered, her expression twisting as if she’d tasted something vile. “Did you skip the story of the Boy Who Cried Wolf when you were a kid? Is this fun for you? Do you feel seen?” It was true. In the early days, when I was desperate to hurt her the way she had hurt me, I had faked having an affair to force a reaction. I used that childish tactic three times. By the fourth, she realized it was a bluff. So now, when I was dead serious, she still thought it was a desperate ploy for her attention. Cameron smoothly interjected. “Carter, did you find out Victoria is pregnant with my child? Is that why you’re lashing out? Just to hurt her?” A cold shock rippled through my chest. She was pregnant. Four years ago, Victoria’s desperate promise still echoed in my ears: “Carter, I swear to you, I will never carry another man’s child. You are the only man who will ever be the father of my children. Even if it happened by accident, I’d take care of it immediately. Please, believe me.” And yet, here she stood, looking at me with a weary exasperation. “Carter, reign in your temper,” she ordered. “I am pregnant. I can’t afford the stress, so don’t push me right now.” I forced the muscles in my face to relax into a smooth, unbothered smile. “What a coincidence. My girlfriend is pregnant, too. I really don’t have the free time to worry about your stress levels.” Both of them let out incredulous laughs. Neither of them believed a single word. Victoria’s phone rang. She glanced at the screen and walked out toward the terrace to take the call. The moment the glass door slid shut, the polite smile vanished from Cameron’s face. He stepped into my space, dropping his voice to a venomous whisper. “She refuses to divorce you because she pities you, Carter. You’re an orphan. A washed-up loser. Her family keeping you around is no different than taking in a stray dog.” He leaned closer. “You want to know where a woman’s heart is? Look at where her money is. She has entrusted every dime of her personal fortune to me. The company might be strapped for cash, but she’s quietly funneled enough money into my offshore accounts to last me ten lifetimes.” He smirked, his eyes gleaming with malicious triumph. “I put you on an allowance because I don’t think you deserve to spend her money. So don’t get arrogant thinking she can’t bear to lose you.” “A piece of paper means nothing to me. I have her money. I have her heart. And my child is going to inherit this entire empire.” His arrogance was suffocating, practically radiating off him. “Oh, by the way. I almost forgot. Victoria promised me that after she delivers this baby, she’s getting her tubes tied. So you can give up that pathetic fantasy of her ever giving you a child.” I listened to him, utterly unfazed. My lack of reaction only made him push harder, a sneer twisting his features. “Even if she didn’t get the surgery, it’s not like she’d ever let a monk like you touch her anyway.” His smugness was almost comical. It wasn’t that Victoria wouldn’t touch me. It was that I refused to touch her. It had been a point of massive contention between us. She had thrown violent fits over it, smashing the house to pieces, making her mother believe I was physically abusing her. The police had even been called. Since that day, whenever she tried to initiate anything, she would tentatively ask, “Can we?” One dead, freezing look from me was all it took for her to back off. It had been three years since her affair began. Three years without so much as our fingers brushing. “Sure,” I said, a faint, careless smile playing on my lips. “She only loves you.” Seeing that he couldn’t break me, couldn’t make me scream or throw a punch, Cameron’s face flushed with frustrated rage. As I turned back to the stairs, he stepped into my path, desperate to land a lethal blow. “There’s something else you don’t know,” he hissed. “Your parents’ bail? That eight-million-dollar bond to keep them out of federal lockup? Victoria could have easily paid it.” He paused, letting the words hang in the air. “She didn’t. Instead, she took that exact amount and bought an entire private art collection for me in Europe. Just because I casually mentioned I liked the artist.” “Your parents’ freedom was worth less to her than a passing comment I made about some paintings.” A sharp, jagged pain sliced through my chest. Even though I had long since emotionally detached from her infidelity, this was different. The reality that she had willingly dropped eight million dollars to buy a smile from her toyboy, while watching me drown three years ago trying to save my parents from prison, felt like a knife twisting in my gut. Four years ago, she had watched me beg the old-money families of this city, humiliating myself, getting doors slammed in my face. She watched me go gray in my twenties from the stress, staying awake for days on end, terrified of what was happening to them behind bars. Back then, she had played the role of the devastated, helpless wife, claiming the company’s assets were tied up and she simply couldn’t liquidate the cash. Even though it was my parents who had funded her first startup. It was my parents who had mentored her, pulling strings to elevate her above her siblings so she could take the throne of her family’s empire. She had sworn to me, on her life, that if my family ever needed anything, she would walk through fire for us. And she had tossed us aside for a few canvases. Thank God I had found my own way out. Three months ago, I had finally secured the leverage and the capital to clear their names and bring them home. I looked at Cameron, my eyes turning to ice. “She gave you the world, and yet she refuses to give you her name. What a fascinating way to love someone.” My sarcasm hit its mark. His face darkened furiously. Just then, the front door swung open, and Victoria’s mother, Beatrice, walked in. Seeing the tension, she immediately assumed the worst. “Carter!” she barked, her voice echoing off the marble floors. “Are you out of your mind again? Cameron has been nothing but respectful to you. If you lay a hand on him, I swear to God I will make you regret it.” My relationship with my mother-in-law used to be warm. But the moment Cameron entered the picture, it turned into a war zone. Cameron immediately shrank back, playing the victimized, gentle soul, validating Beatrice’s assumption that I was bullying him. Victoria slid the glass door open and walked back in. Without asking a single question, she defaulted to her usual routine. “Carter. Apologize to Cameron right now.” I let out a sharp, bitter laugh. Beatrice glared at me as if she wanted me dead. “What is an apology going to do? He’s a parasite! Victoria, you’re pregnant with Cameron’s child now. He needs to move into the primary suite.” She paused, looking me up and down like I was trash on her shoe. “For the sake of peace, Carter, you’re relocating to the Oakwood property.” Oakwood. A three-hundred-square-foot, dingy studio apartment in a bad part of town. Beatrice had bought it specifically to humiliate me. She had threatened me with it countless times. “If you can’t tolerate Cameron, I’ll lock you in that dog cage at Oakwood.” To a family of billionaires, a place like that truly was a dog cage. I looked at Victoria. In the past, she would have stepped in, telling her mother she was taking it too far. But today, she looked at me and said, “Listen to my mother. You stay there for now. Once the baby is born, you can come back.” I felt absolutely nothing. “Okay,” I said quietly. Victoria froze. Her eyes widened in sheer, unadulterated shock. She had expected a war. Cameron looked equally stunned. When I walked out of that house, Victoria truly believed I had gone to the Oakwood apartment. She allowed Cameron to freeze all my accounts, dropping my limit to twenty dollars a day. She really thought she had locked her disobedient dog in his cage to learn a lesson. It wasn’t until a month after she gave birth to a baby boy, when she finally drove out to the studio to retrieve me, that she realized I had never set foot in the place. She called me, her voice tight with an unfamiliar anxiety. “Carter, where are you?” “Just get to the point,” I answered coldly. Suddenly, Cameron’s voice came through the speaker. “Carter. Victoria and I had our son. We’re throwing a massive month-old celebration banquet. We’d love for you to come.” He was practically purring with malice. “We thought some of our good fortune might rub off on you.” I didn’t decline. This was the exact day I had been waiting for. “Absolutely. We’ll be there to offer our congratulations.” I heard Victoria exhale a breath of relief in the background. “See? Sending him away was the right move. He’s finally learning how to behave.” I just smiled to myself. On the day of the baby shower, I walked into the grand ballroom of the Four Seasons, my hand intertwined with my heavily pregnant fiancée. Victoria, radiant and smiling as she held her newborn, looked up. The moment her eyes locked onto us, all the blood drained from her face. She looked like she had been struck by lightning. “Carter,” Cameron stammered, his eyes darting between me and the woman at my side. “What… who is this?” Every guest in the room fell dead silent, all eyes locked on me and Serena. I smiled, smooth and completely at ease, and looked directly at Victoria. “Wife,” I said, my voice carrying clearly across the room. “Allow me to officially introduce you. This is the love of my life, my fiancée, and the mother of my child—Serena Kensington.”

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My new intern is sweet, obedient, and completely innocent. Every day, I drag him into my passionate rants against our boss: “Repeat after me! Down with capitalism! Power to the working class!” He obediently repeats it. Me: “The evil corporate overlords will eventually face their demise!” He furrows his brow, looking a little hesitant: “The evil corporate overlords… will eventually face their… demise.” Me: “The CEO’s son is a pompous, trust-fund prick!” His face instantly turns beet red: “Miss… don’t you think that’s a bit too harsh?” 01 “Huh? Whose side are you on?” Cole blinks his puppy-dog eyes, offering a completely harmless smile: “Yours, obviously.” “Then what are you scared of? It’s not like you’re the CEO’s son.” I narrow my eyes, looking him up and down. “Wait… there’s a rumor going around that the Crown Prince is undercover at our branch. It couldn’t be you, could it?” Cole’s eyes dart away for a second. “Um… are you hungry? We should check the UberEats lunch specials.” “True,” I scoff. “As if a billionaire heir would be splitting a ten-dollar BOGO coupon with a peasant like me.” “They’re probably eating filet mignon and drinking vintage wine for every meal!” Cole chuckles softly, his eyes shining as he looks at me. “The way you talk is so cute.” I raise an eyebrow at him. “Smooth talker. Alright, today we’re upgrading to the twelve-dollar combo!” 02 Cole is the new intern at our company. Soft, fluffy hair, puppy-dog eyes, and crisp white button-down shirts always buttoned to the very top collar. When he smiles, two little dimples appear. He’s sweet and pure. He just comes from a modest background. Every time we split a lunch order, he’s never picky. He eats whatever I order, and cleans his plate completely, like a giant, easily satisfied golden retriever. And he’s incredibly easy to tease. The second I call him “kid,” the tips of his ears turn bright red. “Hey kid, you want the teriyaki bowl today? I’ll add an extra egg for you.” Sure enough, his face flushes again. But today, completely out of the blue, he sends me a link. “Let’s not do the cheap combo today. Let’s do this.” “Sure.” I click the link: [Michelin-Star Kaiseki – Premium Tasting Menu for Two]. ??? My eyes practically pop out of my head. “This is not the UberEats I know.” His eyes curve into a smile. “This is the fancy eats.” “Kid, do I look like someone who can afford this on a four-thousand-dollar monthly salary? What kind of lunch delivery costs $588? That’s highway robbery!” His tone is confident. “If we take three pictures and write a 15-word Yelp review, they’ll refund us $568 as a promotional rebate.” “Seriously? Are you sure?” “Positive. You can call the restaurant and ask.” Cole leans in, lowering his voice. “Last time I went to their physical location, I got a $1,600 meal and they refunded me $1,550.” How does this kid keep stumbling into these insane luck-of-the-draw promotions? Well, I can’t say no to that. If there’s a loophole to exploit the capitalists, I’m taking it. And just like that, Cole and I upgraded from “cheap lunch buddies” to “exploiting corporate promotional loopholes buddies.” 03 New Zealand scampi. Chew, chew, chew. A5 Japanese Wagyu. Chew, chew, chew. Hokkaido sea urchin. Chew, chew, chew. I gossip while I eat: “I got a reliable tip. Apparently, the CEO’s son is super tall and insanely hot. Like, A-list celebrity hot.” Cole, who is currently drinking sparkling water, violently chokes. “Cough, cough… seriously? That exaggerated?” I chew on my fork, thinking. “Hey? Now that you mention it, are there any super hot guys in your intern class?” I frown, my gaze landing squarely on him. “Why do I feel like… you’re the best-looking one?” Cole’s Adam’s apple bobs. He involuntarily loosens his tie. At first glance, this guy looks like an obedient, soft-haired puppy. But looking closely, his facial features are actually incredibly sharp and defined, with a high, straight nose bridge. He’s a very, very pretty puppy. Maybe my female-gaze stare is a bit too blatant. Cole’s chest visibly heaves, the muscular outline beneath his dress shirt subtly flexing. Pop. A button on his shirt flies off. And it pops off in the most precarious, perfectly placed spot. Through the gap, I can simultaneously see the defined lines of his pecs and his upper abs. Cole immediately grabs the gaping fabric, his face turning the color of a boiled lobster. “D-don’t look…” “Oh, please, I already saw it.” I rest my chin on my hand, highly satisfied. “Hehe. Not bad at all. “Alright, I know you aren’t the CEO’s son. What kind of billionaire heir wears cheap shirts that pop their buttons? “Plus, you curse out the corporate overlords with me every day. A guy wouldn’t curse himself out, right?” Cole lowers his head, rubs his nose, and stays completely silent. As obedient and guilty as a big dog with its ears pinned back. 04 The CEO is coming to inspect our branch next month. Everyone is running around like headless chickens, on high alert. VP Miller, our notoriously awful middle manager, dumps a mountain of his own backlog onto my desk. “Mr. Miller, I haven’t even finished my own quarterly reports yet.” “Then do it after hours,” Miller shoots me a cold, dismissive look. “Time is like water in a sponge; if you squeeze hard enough, you’ll always find some. “Riley, this is a prime opportunity to show off your skills in front of the CEO. You better cherish it.” Evil corporate overlords! Even a petty middle manager like Miller gets to enslave bottom-tier corporate drones like me. I sit at my desk, radiating pure resentment, typing furiously on my keyboard. A slice of strawberry shortcake is carefully slid across my desk. Half of Cole’s head peeks out from behind my monitor. “You’re typing like you’re firing a machine gun. Bad mood?” “No shit!” I glare viciously at the screen. “I don’t want to ‘show off my skills’ to the CEO. I’m just a corporate drone, and this drone just wants to go to sleep.” Cole looks surprised. “Are you presenting this report to the old man?” “Who’s the old man?” “I mean… the CEO.” Cole clears his throat softly. “I’m so used to cursing out the capitalists with you, it just slipped out.” “Watch your mouth around the office, kid,” I lecture him. Cole chuckles, muttering something incredibly softly: “It’s fine to meet him. We’ll have to meet him sooner or later anyway.” 05 After that, Cole constantly finds excuses—usually involving our “lunch deals”—to stay late and keep me company while I work overtime. He somehow always manages to find these incredible “free tasting” promotions. Private chef menus, high-end sushi, French cuisine, Italian… “Why don’t you just move a whole Michelin-star restaurant into the office?” I stare, dumbfounded, at a massive, perfectly steamed red grouper. Cole scratches his head sheepishly. “Well, all these places offer two-person tasting menus, and you’re my only food buddy.” Whatever. It’s free. Chew, chew, chew. Cole sits at my computer, helping me format data. This wage slave is finally experiencing the luxury of having a younger, prettier wage slave do her work. While eating, I start scrolling through TikTok. The algorithm, doing what it does best, feeds me an endless stream of shirtless male fitness models posting thirst traps. “What are you looking at? Why are you smiling like that?” Cole suddenly leans over and asks. My grin is stretching from ear to ear; I can’t hide it fast enough. I have no choice but to bluff my way through: “I am simply admiring the impressive fitness results of these creators and offering them my supportive ‘likes’.” Cole blinks innocently. “Then why is he doing pushups while wearing a leather choker?” “…Aesthetics.” “Do you like that?” “I work out too.” He looks at me with sheer, unadulterated earnestness, his eyes clear. “Do you want to inspect my results?” Before I can even process what’s happening, Cole grabs my hand and presses it flat against his chest. “I think I’ve made decent progress.” He guides my hand lower. “What do you think?” Through the thin fabric of his shirt, his pecs are full and firm, and the ridges of his abs are distinct and rock-hard. It feels absolutely incredible. I finally understand why older men like innocent, naive young girls. His oblivious, accidental seduction is practically a lethal weapon. “Not bad,” I say, forcing myself to stay calm and swallowing hard. “With this level of fitness, you could totally make thirst trap videos… “I mean—fitness videos! Educational fitness videos!” 06 The day of the CEO’s inspection finally arrives. VP Miller trails right beside the CEO, acting as sycophantic as a groveling little troll. The CEO flips through the printed presentation materials. As he reads, he suddenly chuckles. “This report is very unique. It’s concise, clear, and… highlights the key points perfectly. “Who put this together?” VP Miller instantly jumps in to steal the credit. “Mr. Sterling, I did!” “You?” The CEO frowns, looking thoroughly disgusted. “He didn’t make it,” Cole’s voice suddenly rings out. “What do you mean I didn’t make it?!” VP Miller snaps, jumping in panic. I frantically tug at Cole’s shirt hem. Lord have mercy, shut your mouth! But this idiot completely ignores me, declaring with absolute righteousness: “Because I watched Riley Brooks make it.” I close my eyes and pray for a swift death. My career is officially over as of today. It wasn’t until later that I found out what the CEO actually saw in the report. On the very last page of the printed materials, there was a tiny line of text Cole had typed in: [This summary was made by your future daughter-in-law. Praise her.] … The CEO calls me into the VIP reception room. I thought he was going to ask me about the company’s operations, but instead, he just makes small talk. The CEO is beaming, looking as friendly as an amiable neighbor: “Riley, right? Don’t be nervous, I’m a very easygoing guy.” Then he proceeds to ask me things like, “Is the workload too heavy?” and “Are your parents doing well?” And at the very end, he actually asks me for my thoughts on older woman/younger man relationships. “What did you say?” When I step out, Cole asks me, looking noticeably nervous. “I said age doesn’t matter, as long as he has big muscles.” I stare blankly ahead in a daze. “And then the CEO laughed. His executive secretary stood there clapping, saying the CEO hasn’t laughed that hard in years.” Cole starts laughing too. “You better back up those words with actions.” “You should be worrying about how you offended VP Miller,” I sigh heavily. “He’s incredibly petty. “The last guy who called him ‘Assistant VP’ instead of ‘VP’ was forced to resign. We’re both probably dead meat.” Cole looks completely relaxed. “It’s fine. You have me.” I look at him with deep pity. Ah, the fearless arrogance of a newborn calf. “What exactly is an intern making minimum wage going to do?” “Didn’t you say my body was pretty good?” Cole shrugs. “Worst case scenario, I’ll go film thirst traps to support you.” 07 That evening is the welcome banquet for the CEO. Formal attire is mandatory. Wearing a cocktail dress and stilettos, I stumble my way into the lavish, gilded banquet hall. It’s a sea of designer gowns, champagne flutes, and elite networking. A room full of VIPs I don’t recognize. When I finally spot Cole, I almost don’t recognize him. “Why did you dress up so much?” He’s wearing a perfectly tailored, dark grey bespoke suit. His usually soft, fluffy hair is slicked back cleanly, exposing a sharp forehead and piercing eyes. The glasses are gone, and his features are so strikingly handsome they’re almost intimidating. His aura is completely overwhelming. I click-clack over to him in my heels. I drag him to the buffet table and start inhaling the hors d’oeuvres. “What does an event like this have to do with us anyway?” I shove a mini tart into his hand and happen to catch a glimpse of the watch on his wrist. “This fake Patek Philippe… is actually incredibly detailed. It’s so shiny.” A vein twitches in Cole’s temple, but he doesn’t say a word. I look up, only to see VP Miller marching toward us with a face like thunder. “We’re dead, we’re dead. Miller is coming to collect our souls!” He definitely couldn’t find an excuse to yell at us in the office earlier, and now he’s finally caught us. Miller approaches, giving us a fake, plastic smile, his tone dripping with sarcasm: “Well, well, Riley. You certainly stole the spotlight today. “But don’t you forget who your actual boss is. You’re young, you need to know your place, understand?” From the side, Cole comments dryly: “Not for much longer.” Miller instantly explodes: “I haven’t even started on you yet! Who told you to interrupt?!” I quickly try to smooth things over: “Mr. Miller, please, calm down. He’s just an intern, he doesn’t know any better…” “An intern?!” Miller raises his voice, spit practically flying into my face. “Believe me, I can have both of you fired by tomorrow morning!” “Who are you firing?” a deep, steady, amused voice cuts in. The CEO, Richard Sterling, had silently walked up beside us. “Mr. Miller, you certainly enjoy throwing your weight around.” Miller instantly shrinks into a quivering mess, wiping sweat from his forehead. “I wouldn’t dare, Chairman Sterling! It’s just this intern, he has absolutely no respect for authority. “I had to discipline him, otherwise what if he offends you?” “That is true,” the CEO nods, looking profoundly agreeable. “This kid has no respect for authority at home, either. “He won’t even call me ‘Dad’ properly. Just calls me ‘old man’ all day long.” … The air freezes. Miller is sweating buckets, his eyes bulging so hard they might pop out of his skull. Wait… who is calling who Dad? Who is whose father?! 08 A few minutes later, the CEO drags Cole onto the stage. “Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce my son, Cole Hayes. He just returned from his studies in Germany and is currently starting from the ground up as an intern in our branch…” I don’t know if VP Miller dropped to his knees. Because I had already bolted. Lifting my annoying dress, I stumble and practically sprint out the back doors. After a few blocks, I’m completely out of breath and collapse onto the edge of a concrete planter. Deep breaths. Stay calm. Then I begin to frantically review the tape: What the hell did I do in front of the ultimate capitalist heir? “…The CEO’s son is a pompous, trust-fund prick.” I made him do my work. I touched his abs. I told him he should film borderline-NSFW thirst traps. Ok, fine. It’s over. We working-class folks don’t start trouble, but we’re definitely terrified of it. Since I’ve already caused a catastrophic mess, there’s only one way out—resignation. I need to get home first! As I stand up, I realize I was running so frantically that I think I twisted my ankle. “Hiss…” I drop my butt back onto the planter. “Where are you trying to run?” Cole’s voice sounds from above my head. A suit jacket, still carrying his body heat, is draped over my shoulders. “The night wind up here is a bit chilly. Don’t catch a cold.” I close my eyes and accept my fate. Cole sits down next to me on the planter. Like I’ve been electrocuted, I scoot a few inches away. “What? Because I’m a capitalist heir, you need to draw a clear line in the sand?” I grit my teeth: “Your last name is Hayes. Shouldn’t the Crown Prince’s last name be Sterling?” “I took my mother’s maiden name. She passed away when I was young.” …A massive miscalculation on my part. A moment of silence passes. He turns his head, looking at me cautiously. “Are you mad?” “This lowly peasant wouldn’t dare.” “So you are mad.” He suddenly crouches down in front of me, tilting his face up, looking at me with those innocent puppy-dog eyes. “How about you hit me? I didn’t mean to lie to you.” I’m not falling for this again! Even if he grabs my hand and uses it to punch his own pecs… Even though the muscle definition feels incredible, I am not falling for it again! “How could I dare strike the Crown Prince?” I coldly pull my hand back. He stays in his crouched, kneeling position, lowering his pride to the absolute dust: “On one hand, I didn’t want to expose my identity so I could observe the real operational status of the branch.” “On the other hand, it was for my own selfish reasons.” He looks up, staring directly into my eyes. “I wanted to get close to you.” I look away. “Why would you want to get close to me?” “If you knew who I was from the start, would you still have split cheap lunches with me and cursed out the corporate overlords?” “Hell no!” He raises an eyebrow, putting on a ‘See? I told you so’ expression. “So I didn’t really have a choice.” “Wait!” I suddenly remember. “So all that incredible luck was fake? The Michelin-star meals, the private chefs… all of those promotions were just you tricking me?” Cole guiltily averts his eyes, looking exactly like a giant golden retriever that just chewed up a pair of sneakers, avoiding its owner’s gaze. “I’m going to pay you back for all of that!” I stomp my foot in anger, entirely forgetting my injury, and instantly gasp in pain. Cole immediately notices. “You twisted your ankle?” I bite my lip and nod. Without another word, he stands up and scoops me into his arms, carrying me princess-style. “What are you doing?! Put me down!” I scream and struggle. “Not a chance. Dream on.”

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My mother was obsessed with the concept of a “lucky age,” an old superstition that added years to your life based on archaic folk math. When she went to register my eight-year-old brother for his social security number and official birth certificate, she insisted on putting him down as eleven. I thought it was absurd. Knowing it would cause him endless trouble in the future, I fought her tooth and nail, finally convincing her to only inflate his age by two years instead of three. Years later, my brother missed the cutoff for the final round of recruitment for a prestigious Air Force pilot program because he was officially two years too young. My mother told him, “If your sister hadn’t stopped me from giving you your full lucky age back then, you’d be the one accepted right now!” Because of that, my brother harbored a deep, simmering hatred for me. He believed I was the one who destroyed his dream of flying. During a hiking trip, he caught me off guard and shoved me off a cliff. My body was shattered on the rocks below, but they took the payout from my life insurance policy and lived a life of luxury. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my mother went to register my brother’s official documents. This time, I kept my mouth shut and watched with a smile as she confidently declared his inflated age. 01 “A year from heaven, a year from earth, a year from the father, and a year from the mother. That’s how you ensure a long and prosperous life!” “My Jackson is eleven years old this year, that’s right! Go ahead and put it down!” The clerk at the Social Security Administration office looked at my brother, who was a full head shorter than kids his supposed age, with an expression of obvious disbelief. She shifted her gaze to me and asked for my brother’s birth year one more time, seemingly hoping to hear the correct answer from my mouth. In my previous life, this was the exact moment when I heard the registration year was three whole years earlier than my brother’s actual birth year, and I loudly stopped my mother. Back then, neither my brother nor I had been properly registered at birth. It caused a massive headache every time we had to enroll in a new school. It wasn’t until last year that my mom finally found a way to get me officially registered. But when she filled out my age, she habitually used that superstitious “lucky age” math. As a result, my official age was a full two years older than my actual age. I was constantly mocked by my classmates as the “dumb giant” or the “old lady.” To spare my brother from suffering the same fate, I exhausted myself trying to convince my mother to only inflate his age by two years instead of three. Because of that, my brother actually got along well with his classmates when he started middle school. However, when I caught a severe fever and went to a cheap urgent care clinic, my mother reflexively gave them my “lucky age.” This led the doctor to miscalculate my dosage. The IV caused the muscles in my left arm to necrotize, and I could never lift it again. That tragedy served as a wake-up call for my mother and brother, preventing a similar disaster from happening to him. But I never imagined that he would later miss the final Air Force pilot recruitment window because he was officially two years below the minimum age requirement. My brother was devastated and blamed my mother for not registering him as two years older. My mother secretly told him, “I wanted to use your lucky age when I registered you, but your sister stopped me!” “It’s my fault for being foolish and listening to your sister’s nonsense! Otherwise, you’d definitely be the one admitted right now!” Later, my brother achieved absolutely nothing in life. My mother complained, “It’s because your sister changed your age that she ruined your blessings!” Over time, my brother harbored a deep-seated hatred for me, convinced I was the one who ruined his aviation dream and the rest of his life. Later, he invited me on a wilderness hike and shoved me off a cliff when I wasn’t looking, leaving my body shattered and unrecognizable. He took the life insurance payout, bought a house, got married, and lived a life of wealth. And my mother, fully aware that he had murdered me, committed perjury to help him escape justice. I thought we at least had some familial love between us, but I didn’t know they only wanted to suck me dry. This time, I was going to sit back and watch just how much of a “blessing” my mother’s prized lucky age would bring my brother! Facing the clerk’s questioning gaze, I just smiled awkwardly and glanced at my mom. My mom impatiently yanked me behind her. “Do you think I don’t know how old my own son is? Why are you staring at her?” Seeing my mother’s volatile temper, the clerk didn’t want to cause a scene and registered the information exactly as she said. Looking at the freshly printed official document, my mother and I both smiled incredibly happily. 02 When we got back home, my brother was in the yard playing Pokémon cards with some neighborhood kids. My mom couldn’t wait to pull him in front of her. “Jackson, if anyone asks how old you are this year, what do you say?” My brother was entirely focused on his game and casually replied, “Eight!” My mom’s face instantly darkened. She emphasized her tone, “You are eleven this year! How can you not even remember your own age?” My brother struggled to get away so he could go back to playing, answering distractedly, “Okay, okay, I’m eleven.” But my mom wasn’t going to let him off easily. She closed the front door and asked again, “Now answer me again. How old are you this year?” This finally annoyed my brother. He looked thoroughly displeased. “Eight! Mom, you’re being so annoying!” “You ungrateful little brat! I carried you for nine months and brought you into this world, and I’m not even old yet, and you’re already sick of me?” Furious, my mom slapped my brother hard on his backside, correcting him while dramatically fake-crying. “You were born in December! Counting from the time you were in the womb, you are eleven this year!” “From now on, if anyone asks, you tell them you’re eleven. Do you hear me?!” My brother burst into loud wails and cried out to me for help when he saw me. In my previous life, after my arm was ruined by that injection, I made sure my brother memorized his actual age at all times. From then on, every time he went to the hospital, I was incredibly cautious, ensuring the doctors treated him based on his true age. Later on, I was kicked out of the house by my mother when I was only sixteen. Her beautiful excuse was that she had already raised me to adulthood, and from then on, it was my turn to give back to the family. I was only a sophomore in high school at the time. She forcibly cut off all my living expenses, and my teachers even had to help cover some of my school fees. To survive, I had no energy to focus on my studies. After school, I relied on picking up aluminum cans on the side of the road to sell for scrap just to keep myself alive. I never foolishly hoped that my brother, who had plenty of spending money, would give me any help. But he was even more heartless than I could have imagined. He stole the meager amount of money I had, claiming he was giving it to our mom, but secretly spent it all himself. When my mom found out, not only did she not punish him, but she also said, “The Miller family’s money will all belong to my son eventually! What’s the big deal if he takes your little bit of cash? It’s not even enough to buy him a pair of shoes!” Later on, I graduated from high school with grades only good enough for a second-rate state college. That was the same time my brother missed out on his aviation dream, exactly when his hatred for me was peaking. He and my mother conspired to marry me off to the intellectually disabled son of a local business owner in exchange for a $30,000 dowry. I adamantly refused and fled the house in the middle of the night. But in the end, I was deceived by his fake apology and ended up a corpse in the wilderness. I naively thought I was treating them well, but in their eyes, I was completely worthless. Or rather, in their eyes, I wasn’t even fit to be their family member. My only use was to be an ATM. I wanted absolutely nothing to do with a family like this! “Maya, help me!” He hadn’t been paying attention to anything my mom said earlier. It was only after getting hit that he frantically blurted out his own age. But he didn’t guess the answer that would satisfy my mother, which only fueled her rage, and she hit him even harder. Watching his pleading eyes, I waited until he had taken a sufficient beating before pretending to just figure it out, gesturing to him. “Eleven! Mom, I’m eleven!” Jackson screamed at the top of his lungs. My mom finally stopped, panting heavily. “That’s more like it! You just don’t remember unless you get hit! If I ask you next time and you forget again, I’ll hit you even harder!” Jackson’s face showed obvious defiance, but he didn’t dare say a word. Only after my mom walked away did he pout and rub his backside as he walked out. At this point, we didn’t have much conflict between us, and he didn’t forget to thank me: “Good thing you guessed it, Maya, otherwise Mom would have beaten me to death!” I smiled silently, thinking to myself: Some people in this world are just born cheap. They can’t tell who is actually good to them! Since he loved hearing lies so much, I would just play along. 03 In my previous life, because I was isolated by my peers, I developed an aversion to school from a young age. Later, because my mom cut off my financial support, even eating became a challenge. At the age when I should have been focusing on school, I was scavenging for trash and finding odd jobs to survive. That’s why I couldn’t run very far when I tried to escape later. Now, facing the mocking voices of the students around me, I turned a deaf ear. Nothing that happened was going to stop me from studying. Because this was my only hope of escaping this house. In the blink of an eye, the timeline reached the point where the muscles in my left arm had necrotized in my past life. I had been running a high fever for two days and still hadn’t recovered. My mom exploded in a rage: “You useless, money-losing burden! All you know is how to eat my food and spend my money! Why don’t you just die already!” Her curses and spit rained down on my head. But I was already delirious from the fever, huddled in the corner, completely drained of energy. My lips were pale, but my head was burning like a furnace. She cursed at me, but she wouldn’t actually let me die like this. After all, I had cost her so much money, and she hadn’t managed to squeeze a single cent of profit out of me yet. When she had cursed to her heart’s content, she finally counted out a few twenty-dollar bills and told me to follow her to the nearby urgent care clinic. Once we got there, she just dumped me there alone. In my previous life, I couldn’t hold on and passed out. When I woke up, my left arm was already paralyzed. The first thing I saw was my mom arguing with the doctor. That was when I realized she had reported my inflated age. The small clinic used strong dosages to begin with. Faced with a shameless grifter like my mom, and knowing they were at fault for not following proper procedures, they ended up settling the matter by paying my family three thousand dollars. That night, when we got home, I dragged my paralyzed left arm, applying a wet towel to it, and watched my mom make a feast of fish and meat for my brother. Meanwhile, because I had a fever, I only had a bowl of watery oatmeal in front of me. Now, I forced myself to hold on to my last shred of sanity until we reached the clinic. After my mom reported my age and went outside to gossip, I quickly grabbed the doctor’s hand and repeatedly told him I was only twelve this year. 04 Fortunately, the tragedy of my past life didn’t happen this time. After the IV drip, my fever had mostly subsided. When it came time to pay, my mom scolded me again over a measly thirty dollars. But I tightly clenched my left fist, my heart filled with the joy of successfully resisting my fate. And even more, a sense of anticipation for the future… Because exactly one week after my arm was ruined in my past life, my brother also caught a fever. Back then, my mom indiscriminately pinned the blame on me, insisting I was the one who infected him. But only I knew that my brother had caught the fever after sneaking off to play in the river behind her back. However, out of fear that my mom would punish him, he watched helplessly as I was falsely accused. This time, I absolutely refused to be the scapegoat! When he and a few friends went to play in the water by the river, I secretly hinted to my mom that wild turkeys were ruining the saplings in the field near the riverbank. When she got there, she heard the sounds of my brother and his friends playing in the water nearby. Her eyes went wide, and she hurried over. Sure enough, she saw my brother, completely naked, having a water fight with the neighborhood kids. A few years ago, someone had drowned in that river. Every summer, my mother repeatedly ordered him never to play near it. Seeing this scene now, she no longer cared that my brother was her precious darling. She sternly ordered him out of the water, grabbed him by the ear, and dragged him back home. I waited until my mom closed the door and my brother’s screams echoed from inside before I slowly emerged. That evening, just as expected, my brother came down with a fever. Even though my mom was cursing under her breath, she quickly carried him to the clinic. I was dragged out of bed, holding his jacket and water bottle, trailing behind them. During the consultation, the doctor routinely asked for his age. Hearing “eleven years old,” the doctor was quite surprised, because my brother’s build was noticeably smaller than his peers. But my mom wasn’t happy about that. “Who are you looking down on? Don’t you know boys hit their growth spurts later?” My brother was already burning up, red as a lobster—even worse than he looked in my past life—and was constantly whining about how awful he felt. I anxiously chimed in, “His ID says that’s his age, it’s correct.” My mom snapped, “What are you standing there for? Hurry up and prescribe the medicine for my son! If the fever causes any permanent damage to my son, I’m going to sue you for everything you’ve got!” The doctor had been dragged out of bed in the middle of the night to see a patient, and dealing with someone like my mom didn’t improve his mood. He directly gave my brother an intramuscular injection, prescribed some medication, and then used the excuse of closing the clinic to rush us out. The medication cost over two hundred dollars. When my mom heard the total, she cursed about being ripped off, but there wasn’t a single moment of hesitation when she pulled out the cash. In my previous life, I was deeply hurt by this blatant double standard. I sacrificed so much just to earn her love. But now that I’ve seen their true colors, I won’t soften my heart even a fraction this time! 05 After returning home in the early hours of the morning, my mom ran into her room and fell into a deep sleep, ordering me to take care of my brother. After she left, I wrapped myself in a blanket and curled up on the sofa to sleep. When I woke up again, my brother was wailing loudly. I had a pretty good idea of what happened, so I immediately ran to wake my mom up. My brother was rushed to the emergency room and was in critical condition for two whole days before he stabilized. Interestingly enough, when the doctors asked for my brother’s age this time, my mom still unhesitatingly said eleven. But thankfully, the doctors at this major hospital were more cautious and had dealt with all sorts of stubborn, uneducated family members. Under the doctor’s stern questioning, my mom’s expression gradually became uncertain. She seemed to have guessed the reason why my brother ended up like this, but she absolutely refused to admit it, as if not admitting it meant it wasn’t her fault. But when it was a matter of life and death, the doctor didn’t have the patience to play games with her. The doctor anxiously raised his voice and interrogated her, practically yelling, drawing the attention of everyone in the hallway. Trembling, my mom pulled him into a corner and whispered: “Doctor, why are you being so loud? That’s just how we calculate age where we’re from!” “And my daughter’s ID has that age too! She was perfectly fine when she got her injection last time!” “Look and see if there are any other reasons? Could it be because he wasn’t taken care of properly after the injection? I don’t even have to think about it to know that lazy brat of a daughter didn’t take her brother’s life seriously!” While my mom was talking, the doctor had already rolled his eyes impatiently several times. He wasn’t unfamiliar with patients’ families like this, the kind who only knew how to shirk responsibility when things went wrong. He interrupted my mom, confirmed the actual age, and went into the operating room to save him. This ordeal cost tens of thousands of dollars. Not only did my brother suffer immensely, but it also left permanent damage to his left leg. However, the doctor said that with proper recovery, it wouldn’t affect his normal walking. When he found out he ended up in the hospital due to my mom’s negligence, my brother threw a massive tantrum in his hospital bed. Knowing she was in the wrong, my mom bought him plenty of toys he’d been wanting to coax him back into a good mood. But I wasn’t so lucky. “What kind of sister are you? Did you learn absolutely nothing in school? You can’t even tell the difference between chronological age and lucky age when seeing a doctor! Are you just hoping your brother dies sooner?!” My mom stood with her hands on her hips and screamed at me. My brother in the bed also changed his tune and chimed in: “Yeah, Maya! Why didn’t you stop Mom? Why wasn’t it you who almost died from the injection!” 06 I looked at the malicious nature gradually revealing itself in my brother, clenched my fists tightly, and didn’t argue back. I knew his retribution was still to come. After the two of them finished venting their anger on me, they were a happy family again. While my brother was hospitalized, my mom, just like in my past life, went to cause a scene at the small clinic. This time, she was even greedier, demanding a hundred thousand dollars from them. Otherwise, she threatened to sue them for malpractice and shut them down. Helpless, the doctor had no choice but to pay up. After getting the money, my mom went to claim credit with my brother. “If it weren’t for this whole ordeal, when did you expect your mom to ever make this much money?” “The doctors all said there’s absolutely no problem with your leg. You can’t even tell unless you look really closely.” My brother, holding the thousand dollars my mom gave him to top up his gaming account, instantly changed his tune. He threw his arms around my mom’s neck and kissed her several times, entirely forgetting his previous resentment towards her. “You have to trust Mom. The lucky age isn’t just a way of showing gratitude to your mother; it will bring you blessings in the future!” “And don’t listen to your sister’s nonsense. It’s fine if girls lie about being younger, but you’re different. You’re the only male heir of the Miller family! Having an older age written down just makes you seem more manly!” “Mom will save all the rest of this money for you! When you grow up, the family’s money and the house will all be yours!” My brother agreed sweetly, repeating several times that he was eleven this year, counting his time in the womb as one year. 07 With money in her hands, my mom recently became obsessed with playing poker. She ordered me not to go to school for the next few days and to stay at the hospital to take care of my brother. I was responsible for the family’s three meals a day. Since my brother was recovering, my mom was more generous with the grocery money than usual. I couldn’t fight back against their everyday abuse and beatings, but I had ways to secretly make them miserable where they couldn’t see. I only spent a third of the money to buy stale vegetables and cheap meat, adding various seasonings so they couldn’t taste the difference at all. Sometimes my brother would even praise my cooking after eating, and my mom would clean her plate every time. I smiled silently. Without realizing it, by the time my mom cut off my living expenses, I had already saved up quite a bit of money. Even though it wasn’t a fortune, it was enough for me to comfortably finish high school. In this life, nobody was going to stop me from getting into a good college and escaping this place. While I was racing against the clock to study in high school, my brother developed extravagant habits and became a bully at school. Whenever I ranked in the top ten of my grade in exams, my brother would be called to the principal’s office because he failed every single subject. The teachers always said our family was a study in extremes. Why couldn’t the younger brother study as well as the older sister? In this life, because I maintained good grades, I received a few hundred dollars in scholarships every semester. I handed all of this over to my mom, only asking that she not interfere with my studies. With the money in hand, she naturally didn’t bother making trouble for me. As for my brother, his resentment towards me grew day by day because the neighbors were always comparing him to me. Sometimes when I was working a part-time job after school, he would bring a group of delinquents to steal the recycling I had collected. The homework I stayed up late to finish would be thrown into the trash by him the next morning. Seeing my distressed look, he would only laugh maliciously with his friends. Later on, I completely ignored these kinds of pranks. Except, when I cooked every day, I would secretly add a little something extra to his soup base. Sometimes it was powdered cockroach corpses, sometimes it was dumpling broth that a lizard had “accidentally” fallen into… 08 Fortunately, the final results did not disappoint me. I successfully got into a top-tier university and chose a major at a campus as far away from home as possible. When my mom found out, she sternly ordered me to change it, but I brought out the excuse I had prepared long ago: “The major I chose has a great future prospect. I might make a lot of money later on, and then I can support you even better!” I had been completely obedient to my mom all these years. Even when she cut off my living expenses, I didn’t act like I felt it was unfair, unlike my past life. I ate oatmeal and toast every day, and I still handed my scholarship money over to her. I would even smile and say to her: “Mom, you’ve raised me for so many years. Now that I’m an adult, it’s only right that I repay you.” She never in a million years would have thought I had any intention of escaping. Deep down, she believed I would dedicate my entire life to serving this family. Hearing what I said, her eyes darted around shiftily. “But I’m telling you right now, don’t even think about asking me for tuition money!” “I’ve fed and housed you for over a decade! I’ve already done more than enough!” I quickly waved my hands. “How could I possibly ask you for more money? I know tuition is expensive, but I’ve applied for student loans now, so you don’t have to worry about me.” Only then did she relax, waving her hand dismissively. “Once you’re in college, don’t just focus on having fun. Learn from others and get a part-time job! Your dad died early, and it wasn’t easy for me to raise you and Jackson all by myself. You need to remember how hard I worked!” “Jackson needs money right now, so I won’t ask you for much. Once you’re in college, just send me a thousand dollars a month to my card!” To successfully escape, I agreed to whatever conditions she proposed. Anyway, the day would come when I would exact my revenge on them, one by one! 09 In the blink of an eye, my brother was a junior in high school. When he was little, he skipped two grades in preschool, so his actual chronological age was two years younger than his classmates. But because my mom had messed with his official records, his legal age was one year older than his classmates. This time, when the announcement came that an agency was coming to the school for the final round of Air Force pilot recruitment, my brother was more excited than anyone else. Because he was the only one in his class who met the age requirement! In fact, there were no more than five students in the entire grade who met the age requirement. Even before the recruitment process started, he was already fantasizing about what he would look like as a pilot. Hearing this news, my mom was genuinely happy for him. She viewed her son through rose-colored glasses, believing unequivocally that as long as my brother participated, he would definitely succeed! If he wasn’t chosen, it meant the recruiters were blind! She even gloated, “See? Doesn’t Mom deserve some credit?” “If we went by how everyone else counts from birth, wouldn’t you have missed this opportunity?” “I always said my way of counting was the right way! You need to remember to be grateful, and the blessings will come, right?” My brother, hearing this, also felt incredibly lucky. “Good thing you had foresight, Mom!” “Don’t worry! Once I’m selected and make big money in the future, I’ll definitely make sure you live a good life!” My mom was so thrilled by my brother’s words that she posted several updates on Facebook. Almost every neighbor, relative, and friend she’d ever spoken to knew that Jackson was testing to become a pilot. Everyone praised him for being so promising. When he went for his first physical exam, my mom had already gathered her acquaintances and booked nine large tables at a restaurant to celebrate his acceptance into the pilot program. However, before she could wait for the good news about my brother, she first received a call from the police station.

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While FaceTiming my boyfriend in the new, incredibly short skirt my “uncle” bought for me, my uncle suddenly walked in and pulled me into his arms. Feeling the dangerous shift in his mood, I panicked. But he just let out a low chuckle and covered my mouth with his hand. “This little skirt is meant for my eyes only. Do you understand?” I looked up at him with wide, innocent doe eyes, tears of fear welling up in the corners. My “uncle,” however, just clamped down on my wrists, his eyes gleaming with excitement and a wicked half-smile. “Then I guess I’ll just have to punish you right in front of him. How does that sound?” 01 During the winter holidays while I was back home, my uncle mailed me a little skirt I had been eyeing for ages. It was short, sexy, and incredibly alluring. The moment I unwrapped it, I texted him, thanking him profusely. But my uncle told me I had to wait until I came back to the city to try it on and show him in person. I didn’t think much of it, assuming he just wanted to admire his own good taste in clothing. So, as soon as I got back to my apartment, I slipped into the tiny skirt he sent me and started a video call with my long-distance boyfriend. When the call connected, my boyfriend, Ethan, seemed strangely flustered. The moment he saw me, a look of obvious guilt flashed across his face. “Maya, what made you decide to FaceTime me out of nowhere?” Ethan hadn’t even put his shirt on properly. He gave me a strained, awkward smile. I looked at him, my suspicion growing, and asked point-blank: “Ethan, what are you doing? Why aren’t you even dressed?” A look of embarrassment crossed Ethan’s face, and he quickly tried to cover his tracks. “I just woke up.” “Look, I’ll show you.” I was about to press him further, but Ethan cut me off. He proactively turned his camera to show me his nightstand, which was covered in things related to me, and then the messy, unmade state of his bed. Seeing that, my cheeks instantly flushed a deep pink. Ethan gave a knowing smile and stayed quiet. 02 Seeing his reaction, I quickly changed the subject, taking the initiative to lift the hem of my skirt to show him. “Ethan, look. Do you like my new skirt?” My boyfriend, Ethan, had always been a gentleman. In the six months we had been together, he rarely crossed any lines. We always kept things respectful and PG-rated. But the next moment, Ethan’s eyes lit up intensely. He pointed at the hem of my skirt, his voice laced with excitement: “Maya, stand up. Pull it up a little higher so I can get a better look.” Ethan’s expression was full of amazement; he seemed unusually interested in me at this moment. I felt a bit weird about it. But hearing his words, I instantly understood exactly what Ethan was getting at. I blushed furiously and softly refused him: “This… this isn’t a good idea…” “We’re…” Seeing me refuse, Ethan kept encouraging me: “Maya, we’re doing long-distance now. Shouldn’t we spice things up a bit to keep the spark alive?” Saying that, Ethan showed me his nightstand again. It was covered with my photos and some clothes I had left there. “Look, this is all proof of how much I miss you.” Thinking about it, my resolve began to waver. The hand clutching the hem of my skirt started to uncontrollably pull it up, inch by inch. On the screen, Ethan’s expression grew more and more eager. “Just… just this once…” I bit my lip, muttering softly, ultimately agreeing to his request. On the other side of the screen, Ethan nodded eagerly, his eyes practically glowing as he stared at me. I gripped the hem of my skirt, gritted my teeth, and prepared to pull. Suddenly, the sound of the door opening rang out. A man’s freezing tone made my fingers freeze in mid-air. “Maya. Put it down.” A man in a sharp suit was leaning against the doorframe, his eyes burning like a torch. Those expressive eyes were locked onto me, but his tone was terrifyingly cold. I looked back. Seeing that sharp, handsome face, the movement of my hands stopped instantly. My voice trembled: “U-Uncle?” 03 My uncle had walked into the room so suddenly I didn’t even have a second to react. He had already casually shut the door behind him. He was even holding the suit jacket he had just taken off. He stared at me with a burning intensity, taking slow, deliberate steps toward me. “It’s been a few years, Maya. Have you grown that bold?” “Now you even dare to disobey me?” My uncle questioned me, his tone laced with interrogation, while his eyes remained fixed on my fingers, which were still tightly gripping the hem of my skirt. Seeing this on the video call, my boyfriend instantly turned red with anger: “Who are you? What gives you the right to talk to my girlfriend so intimately?” Ethan was furious. His angry voice was being blasted through the phone’s speaker. Hearing him, I was about to open my mouth to warn Ethan. But my uncle, who had already closed the distance between us, snatched my phone away before I could. After a few years of not seeing him, my uncle had grown even more handsome and captivating. His suit jacket was casually unbuttoned, giving him an incredibly alluring, untouchable aura, while his brow held an air of careless relaxation. I looked up and suddenly met his gaze. His face was impeccably clean-cut. Deep, defined features and a sharp jawline, paired with a pristine white dress shirt. He even had a faint, youthful vibe to him, but mixed with a rugged maturity. He was incredibly striking. Even my boyfriend, Ethan, looked like a little boy standing next to him right now. The difference was like night and day. My uncle merely cast a sideways glance at Ethan on the screen, not saying a single word. He quickly pulled out his own phone and opened the photo gallery. He glanced at me, then handed his phone to me. In the photo, Ethan was passionately entangled with another woman in his own bed, completely lost to the world. The moment I saw Ethan in bed with another woman, my heart plummeted like a stone in an icy lake. Seeing my reaction, my uncle looked at Ethan with contempt and let out a scoffing laugh: “It seems Maya’s taste in men is quite poor.” From start to finish, my uncle hadn’t even looked my boyfriend directly in the eye. Hearing this, Ethan’s face flushed red on the screen as he desperately tried to defend himself: “Maya, this guy is crazy! Why did he barge into your room? He’s talking nonsense, you absolutely cannot believe him.” “You have to believe me. You are the only person I have ever loved!” Heh. Of course I believed my uncle. Because that dress shirt casually tossed at the foot of Ethan’s bed in the photo? That was the one-year anniversary gift I had given him. And yet, he treated it like an eyesore, tossing it carelessly onto the floor. Just like my sincere love for him—completely worthless. 04 I looked at Ethan once, didn’t say a word, but my eyes were filled with profound disappointment. I had been with Ethan for over a year. He had chased me relentlessly for three months before I finally agreed to give him a chance. All the declarations of true love he had made to me in the past were now incredibly laughable. My uncle, standing beside me, saw my heartbreak instantly but didn’t say anything. He just slowly placed his phone on the desk, then beckoned me with a hooked finger, a smirk on his lips as he called me over: “Come here.” My uncle’s low, deep voice was terrifyingly cold in that moment. I didn’t dare disobey. So, instinctively clutching the hem of my skirt, I walked toward him. In my memories, whenever I was upset or crying… My uncle would gently call me over, pull me into his arms, and stroke my back to comfort me. This time was no exception. He pulled me into his arms, used his thumb to wipe away the tears welling up in the corners of my eyes, and asked in a low voice: “Do you like the little skirt I bought you?” I bit my lip hard and nodded, but the tears kept rolling down my cheeks. Wrapped in my uncle’s strong, warm arms, I felt like a sad, obedient little bunny silently crying. Being cheated on by my boyfriend left a bitter, sour taste in my mouth. But Ethan was still frantically trying to defend himself through the phone screen. He even shamelessly started recounting all our past memories, desperately trying to salvage whatever shred of affection I had left for him. But I knew: cheat once, and you’re dead to me. He cheated. How could I ever forgive him? Seeing this, my uncle used his thumb to brush my stray bangs back, gently tucking them behind my ear. “Don’t want to hear it?” He asked in a gentle voice. I nodded, tears still in my eyes. So my uncle grabbed my phone and immediately hit the mute button. The room instantly fell into complete silence. My uncle reached out a finger to gently lift my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. The tear tracks on my face hadn’t even dried yet. My icy, stiff fingers were still death-gripping the hem of my skirt, afraid to let go. Seeing this, my uncle looked at me with those deep, soulful eyes. A flicker of emotion crossed his gaze, and his tone held a hint of struggle as he reminded me: “The little skirt I bought you is meant for my eyes only. Do you understand?” His domineering, low voice fell into my ears, word by word. It left me too terrified to argue. In a flash, my uncle had already possessively grabbed my freezing, trembling fingers. Then, he enveloped my hands completely in his warm, large palms. The heat seeped through my skin, slowly warming my heart. “Be a good girl. Listen to me. Stop crying.” My uncle’s gentle voice sounded right by my ear: “Don’t be sad. Aren’t I right here?” I was just about to open my mouth to answer him, but— The next second, a warm, soft sensation completely overwhelmed me. A rush of heat spread through my teeth. Without any warning, my uncle’s warm lips covered mine. The heat and a slight bitterness mingled together. I was terrified, but my uncle seemed completely captivated. 05 I stood frozen in place, utterly stunned. My uncle’s deep, passionate eyes were locked intensely onto my lips. And Ethan was watching this entire scene unfold through the phone screen. In my peripheral vision, I could see Ethan’s mouth moving frantically, but no sound came out. I was about to reach over and turn off the phone out of sheer embarrassment. But in a flash, my uncle pulled me tight against him, right in front of my boyfriend’s shocked eyes. “Be a good girl. Listen to me.” The sudden, dangerous shift in my uncle’s mood sent a jolt of electricity through me, leaving my legs weak. I didn’t dare move an inch. He didn’t speak, just continued to gently kiss away the tear tracks on my face. “If you ruin your pretty face crying, I’ll be the one whose heart aches.” Ethan was yelling, but neither my uncle nor I could hear him. However, Ethan could hear every single word my uncle said perfectly clearly. On the other side of the screen, my boyfriend’s face was flushed red with anger. He glared at us furiously, but he still couldn’t make a sound. My uncle carelessly stroked the back of my neck, his tone laced with amusement: “What, haven’t given up on him yet?” He gently forced my head to turn back towards him. My gaze was forced to land on the pronounced bump of his Adam’s apple. I looked up, and my surprised eyes met his strict, judging gaze. “…No…” I was about to deny it. But my uncle just smiled. Then, he pulled me closer, wrapping me tightly in his arms, and let out a low chuckle: “Then let me punish you right in front of him. How does that sound?” Hearing those words, I felt like I was going to die on the spot. My terrified gaze darted around frantically, not knowing where to look. I thought my uncle was just threatening me, trying to force me to make a clean break with Ethan. But then, his warm hand began to slowly, inch by inch, invade my skin. The heat rushed over me through my pores. My uncle wore a wicked half-smile, his eyes locked onto my lips, radiating pure aggression. My boyfriend, Ethan, could only watch helplessly as my uncle held me, too angry to speak. As for me, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t push my uncle away. His kisses fell on my lips like dense raindrops, mixed with the intoxicating scent of tobacco and pure testosterone. His low, heavy pants echoed one after another, inexplicably plucking at my heartstrings. 06 My uncle’s behavior was dangerously chaotic and unhinged. Even though we were in my bedroom. Even though my ex-boyfriend was watching. My uncle showed no restraint. He leaned down, his lips brushing against my ear, and even dared me to try and push him away, to try and escape: “Tell me, Maya. Who treats you better? Me, or him?” “…No… I don’t want to…” I refused to answer, my voice trembling, but my uncle relentlessly backed me into a corner. He only wanted to hear the answer he was looking for from my mouth. I didn’t answer; I just bit my lip and kept refusing. “…No…” My refusal was entirely useless. My uncle let out a scoffing laugh, picked up the phone, turned the camera towards himself, and said disdainfully: “Your name is Ethan, right?” Ethan, finally unmuted by my uncle, was glaring at him with a cold, mocking sneer: “You’re truly disgusting. You won’t even spare your own niece.” Hearing this, my uncle just smiled: “Then does Maya know who the woman in your bed is?” In my peripheral vision, I saw Ethan’s eyes turn red with anger at those words. He stopped talking. I looked at my uncle and asked softly: “Who is it?” My voice had suddenly turned ice-cold. My uncle looked at me and gestured for me to come closer. I hesitated for a few seconds, but complied. He smiled in satisfaction, then asked me: “Is your uncle better, or is he better?” But this time, before I could even answer. My uncle grabbed my slender, warm fingers and, right in front of Ethan, placed them directly onto his burning hot abs. Seeing this, Ethan’s face went purple with rage. Having been with Ethan for so long, I knew perfectly well. Ethan didn’t have abs. He barely had any muscle on his entire body. He had even naively asked me if I disliked him having muscles because I was worried he’d pull something working out. And I, like an idiot, had actually agreed with him. Now, feeling my uncle’s abs… it actually felt pretty good. My uncle glanced at me, then asked affectionately: “Now that you’ve felt it, it’s your turn, right?” Hearing this, I blinked my wet, teary eyelashes at my uncle, looking completely lost. 07 My uncle, however, gave a knowing smile: “What, are you going to be unfair about this?” On the screen, Ethan was about to start yelling again, but my uncle abruptly hit the end call button. “Let’s keep doing things that will drive him crazy. How does that sound?” I looked at my uncle, my fingers trembling as they gripped the hem of my skirt. My voice was filled with panic: “What…?” My uncle smiled, but then he reached out and handed me a few photographs. I took them, feeling a bit scared, but I noticed the face in the photos looked strangely familiar. “Is this… Auntie?” Hearing this, my uncle almost choked on his own breath. He looked at me with deep resentment and flicked me on the forehead. “What kind of nonsense are you talking about? If I had a wife, would I be kissing you?” He used his thumb to wipe away the last teardrop from the corner of my eye, his tone affectionate: “Look closer.” I looked down, focusing on that strangely familiar face. I felt like I had definitely seen this person before, but I just couldn’t place her. It wasn’t until my uncle tapped Ethan’s name that I finally remembered: “It’s Ethan’s sister!” “Oh, wait, no. He said she was his cousin!” I remembered perfectly well how smug and proud Ethan looked when he introduced his so-called “cousin” to me. My uncle smiled: “You guessed right. As a reward, I’ll give you a few more. How’s that?” So, my uncle handed me a few more photos. I couldn’t wait to grab them and look. But this time, my face instantly burned bright red. It was like a fiery sunset had been painted across my cheeks. Seeing this, my uncle reached out and touched my cheek with his thumb. The burning heat instantly transferred to his fingertips. He smiled: “What’s wrong?” He knew exactly what was wrong. The photos he handed me were all highly explicit, intimate photos of Ethan and his “cousin.” Not only did they make me blush, but they acted like a sharp knife plunging deep into my heart. “Uncle…” I called out to him, my voice awkward and strained. But my uncle just laughed out loud. He picked up the suit jacket he had taken off earlier, draped it over my legs, and then pulled me into his arms. In his embrace, he gently rubbed his nose against mine: “Do you understand now, Maya?” He asked me, his tone teasing. I silently lowered my head: “So… he’s been with his ‘cousin’ this whole time?” My uncle shook his head: “That’s not what I wanted you to notice.” He gently corrected me. I was confused: “Then… what is it?” I stared into his deep, soulful eyes. He even had a small, reddish teardrop mole faintly visible at the corner of his eye. Looking at his exceptionally handsome features. I felt like I was falling for him, but then I instantly snapped back to reality. This was my uncle! I kept repeating it to myself in my head. But he didn’t give me a chance to stay rational. He pulled me close with force, so determined that he left me no room to escape.

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In our past two lives, Declan Hayes couldn’t escape his fate of marrying me. The third time around, he accepted it. He no longer tried to save my sister first, leaving me to die in the freezing wilderness. He no longer showed disgust at the dark birthmark by my eye, instead calling it a mark God left for him to recognize me. His ambition was as relentless as ever. He crawled out of the slums, covered in frost and snow, collapsing at my feet. He was waiting for me to pull him up and take him home, just like I had in our past two lives. But this time, God showed mercy. The one who reached out and helped him up was my sister. And I? I picked up another little street rat, one even more wretched and battered than him. Smiling, I announced that I wanted to keep this one. Declan stared blankly as my hand bypassed him. He must have been overjoyed. So happy, he looked like he was about to cry. 01 It was an overcast winter day, the sky heavy with leaden clouds. The scouts rode back to our convoy, reporting that the northern mountain pass was frozen solid. We couldn’t get through. My older sister, Clara, sighed. She stroked my sleep-flushed cheek inside the carriage, lifted the velvet curtain, and instructed the driver, “Find an inn nearby for us to wait it out. Hazel is tired.” I crawled up from her lap and peered out the frosted window. The snow was blindingly heavy, making it look as though the clouds themselves had frozen over. Dozens of beggars were huddled under broken wooden awnings, shivering violently. A kindhearted tavern owner brought out buckets of leftover food and scraps. Instantly, the beggars swarmed the buckets like starving ants. Only two boys didn’t join the frenzy. One looked at the scraps with sheer disdain. The other was likely just too emaciated, lacking the strength to even stand, curled up in a corner with a mop of matted hair. Clara leaned over, pulling me back from the window. She had her nanny wrap a thick, white rabbit-fur scarf around my head and neck. “The wind is biting right now. Catching a fever is no joke,” she scolded gently. She didn’t let me step out of the carriage until I was bundled up like a marshmallow. The moment my boots hit the ground, a figure violently crashed at my feet. He grabbed the hem of my heavy cloak with such desperate force that he nearly dragged me down on top of him. “Oh my!” Clara rushed forward to catch me, frowning at the unconscious boy on the ground. The nanny took one look and gasped. “Oh, you poor boy. He’s covered in bruises and whip marks.” Clara had a bleeding heart. She couldn’t stand seeing others suffer. Seeing the overwhelming number of refugees, she handed the nanny a stack of cash to set up a soup kitchen. Then, she personally reached down to help the boy—the one who was still gripping my cloak in a death grip. I didn’t reach out. I just stood there, watching quietly. Suddenly, I asked, “Sister, are you going to keep this filthy beggar?” The boy’s tightly shut eyelashes fluttered. Clara smiled helplessly and pinched my cheek. “Hazel, be respectful. No matter what someone’s background is, you must be polite. Understand?” She thought for a moment, then added, “Uncle Arthur’s military academy has been recruiting refugee boys lately. Since fate brought him to us, let’s take him home. Consider it a good deed.” Knowing she wouldn’t scold me too harshly because of my age, I broke free from her grasp. I ran straight toward the cluster of broken awnings, pointing at the skeletal, half-dead boy in the corner. My eyes curved into a wicked, playful smile. “If you get to keep one, I want one too! I want this one!” No one else noticed, but I did. The boy leaning against Clara—the one pretending to be unconscious—snapped his eyes open the moment the words left my mouth. He stared at me in absolute disbelief. 02 Carefully observing the boy’s reaction, I was absolutely certain. This was Declan Hayes, the man who had been haunting my recurring nightmares for months. The dreams were fragmented, playing out like a tragic, twisted novel. In those dreams, I was the obnoxious, unloved adopted sister. I was ugly—ruined by the dark birthmark at the corner of my eye. I was spoiled, arrogant, and demanded everything my perfect sister had. Including the man she loved: Declan. I clung to Declan since childhood. Through two lifetimes, he couldn’t shake me off. In those lives, he treated me with pure cruelty. He abandoned me in the wilderness where I was nearly eaten by wild dogs. He mocked my appearance so relentlessly that it destroyed my self-esteem, driving me to use toxic, back-alley cosmetics to hide my birthmark until my skin rotted away, turning me into high society’s ultimate laughingstock. Yet, I acted like I was cursed, obsessively demanding to marry him. The love and hatred of two lifetimes tangled endlessly in my dreams. Every person, every scenario—I knew them by heart. So, when I heard the driver say the northern pass was frozen and we were trapped in this snowy town, I snapped fully awake and looked out the window. Sure enough, there was the young Declan. I was naturally rebellious, a girl who loved reading dark fairy tales and legends of reincarnation. When confronted with this bizarre intersection of dreams and reality, I wasn’t afraid. I was thrilled. I had been so stupid in my dreams. So pathetic to love a man who treated me like dirt. In reality, I was going to make sure Declan Hayes got absolutely nothing in his third life. I looked at the bed where the little street rat I had just picked up was lying. He had been given medicine but was still unconscious, tossing restlessly, his skeletal fingers trembling. I reached out and held his freezing fingertips. Finding warmth, his deeply furrowed brow slowly smoothed out. I smiled softly. I was going to raise this boy, Rowan, to be stronger, smarter, and more powerful than Declan. Then, Clara would undoubtedly fall in love with him instead. When that day came, Declan would lose the woman he loved, and he would lose the war for power and wealth. Watching him cry was going to be so much fun. 03 Saying I was going to raise Rowan properly was one thing; actually doing it was another. I couldn’t keep anything alive. Every stray cat or dog I brought home eventually had to be taken over by Clara because I was so bad at it. The only things I kept in perfect condition were my porcelain dolls. So this time, I made a firm resolution. I rolled up my sleeves, determined to do everything myself! But it immediately turned into a disaster. “Oh, my sweet girl! You don’t need to bathe him yourself! He’s a boy!” The nanny rushed back into the room holding a basin of water. Seeing me holding down a terrified teenager in a wooden tub, aggressively wielding a comb to fix his hair, she panicked. I didn’t see the issue. I naturally treated him like one of my dolls, adjusting him as I pleased. I said with absolute seriousness, “He’s mine.” I can do whatever I want. With that, I cupped the boy’s wet, rigid face, leaning in close, staring straight into his pitch-black eyes. “Your name is Rowan. From now on, I am your Lady. You will listen to me, forever and ever.” Rowan’s fingers gripped the edge of the tub so hard his knuckles turned white. “Nod your head,” I demanded bossily. He stared at me. Then, he nodded. I smiled in satisfaction and held up the comb. “Good! Now I’m going to comb your messy hair until it looks pretty. Don’t move.” Rowan tried his hardest to relax his body, his soaked rags floating on the surface of the water. But I overestimated myself. After just two strokes of the comb, I spotted something crawling in his hair. I screamed, threw the comb, and pushed him away forcefully. “Ah! Lice! So gross!” The nanny quickly pulled me back. “My precious girl, you aren’t made for this kind of dirty work. Alright, you’ve had your fun, let me take over.” I don’t know which word triggered Rowan, but he looked absolutely terrified that I was disgusted with him. He grabbed a pair of sharp shears from a basket by the tub and began frantically hacking away at his own hair. He swung so recklessly that the blades slashed his cheek, drawing blood. Both the nanny and I froze in shock. Strands of hair and blood hit the water. He gripped the shears, his hair now a jagged, chaotic mess. Like a lone, frightened wolf pup who didn’t know how else to please his master, he looked at me with helpless, desperate eyes. Clara heard the commotion and rushed in. Seeing the scene, she was also stunned. She looked at the shears in his hand with concern, then pulled me into her arms, coaxing me gently. “Hazel, do you really want a playmate? How about sister finds you a better one, okay?” At the doorway, Declan, who had been scrubbed clean and dressed in fresh clothes, was watching me. He even offered me a gentle smile. I found it completely baffling. Just as I was about to tell him he was worthless, I heard a splash. Suddenly, I was yanked out of Clara’s arms and pressed hard against a wet, bony chest. The boy’s voice was raspy, damaged, and incredibly stubborn. “Lady. Mine.” Declan’s eyes went dark for a split second. I turned my head and flicked Rowan on the forehead. “Idiot. It’s—I am yours, my Lady.” His eyes seemed to light up at the flick. “Yes.” He nodded. 04 Because we had been delayed for too long visiting our parents’ graves in our hometown, Clara ordered us to pack up and head for Uncle Arthur’s estate in the capital the second the ice melted. I was incredibly depressed. Because I knew that once we reached Uncle Arthur’s house, I would revert to being the universally disliked, annoying adopted cousin. I wasn’t like Clara. She was beautiful, elegant, and everything she did was perfect. The adults adored her, and our cousins idolized her. After our parents died, she took on the responsibility of raising me. She was so capable that everyone in elite society praised her. But me? The ugly birthmark by my eye made it naturally hard for people to like me. Plus, my temper was awful. If anyone offended me even slightly, I sought ruthless revenge. They only tolerated me out of respect for Clara. But I had made my peace with it. As long as I had Clara, it was enough. She treated me so well; I wanted to give her the best of everything the world had to offer. I looked across the carriage at Rowan. He was meticulously carving a birthday gift for Clara. I had braided a small section of his choppy hair, tying off the end with a blue sapphire bead. His face had filled out a bit, and the cuts from the scissors had faded to faint red lines. His eyes were exceptionally beautiful, like a crescent moon breaking through the dusk. There was no doubt he would grow up to be a devastatingly handsome man. He pressed his lips together in concentration, his nimble fingers using a small knife to smooth the edges of a wooden angel statuette. There were several failed attempts tossed in a box beside him. When he finished, he handed it to me. It seemed to be his best work. I turned it over in my hands, satisfied. “Yes, this one is the prettiest. Give it to Clara.” He shook his head and insisted I wear it instead. I lectured him. “How many times do I have to tell you? Clara is number one. You have to prioritize her above me.” I told him to put it away. He turned slightly, pretending he didn’t hear me, and picked up his knife to carve another figure. He replied curtly, “She has someone to treat her well.” Declan? I sneered in disgust. “What does he count for? You are a million times better than him. One day, you’re going to crush him under your boot, and all he’ll be able to do is cry.” Rowan paused. He looked up at me, his gaze complex. “You hate him?” I nodded. Rowan offered a strange, faint smile. “But he seems to like you. He likes you so much he looks like he wants to kill me.” Hearing that gave me goosebumps. I told Rowan he was being ridiculous and overthinking it. The bitter winter wind howled outside the carriage windows, the bells jingling. We were almost at the capital. I burrowed into the small blanket Clara had embroidered for me. Feeling sleepy, I closed my eyes and muttered: “Except for Clara, no one will ever like me…” The carriage was quiet for a long time. Just as I was drifting off to sleep, I thought I heard someone whisper low under their breath— “Is that so?” “Because I think there are far too many people who like you. So many that I want to kill them…” I rolled over, assuming I was just hearing things. 05 As dawn broke, our carriage passed through the city gates. The Montgomery family had sent people to wait for us early in the morning. “The young ladies are finally here! The General and Madam have been worrying for days, terrified you’d be trapped in the blizzard and miss the holidays!” Aunt Martha’s head maid hurried forward, eagerly helping Clara step down from the carriage. Clara pulled her hood tighter, breathing out a cloud of white mist. “I didn’t expect the snow in the capital to be this heavy…” She turned around and reached her hand out to me, who was lagging behind. “Come on, Hazel. We’re home.” The Montgomery staff completely ignored me, their eyes landing on Declan and Rowan with confusion. Seeing I hadn’t moved, Clara stepped forward, pulled me along, and smiled as she explained why we had taken the two boys in. Declan was officially brought in by Clara, so the Montgomery staff didn’t say much. But when they looked at Rowan standing by my side, their eyes turned noticeably colder. I was used to this blatant favoritism, but… I looked back at Rowan. He seemed entirely oblivious to their deliberate coldness, offering me a small smile. We walked past the grand statues, through several courtyards, and into the warm, luxurious parlor. Aunt Martha personally came out to pull Clara inside, affectionately rubbing her cold hands. “My sweet girl, the journey must have been exhausting.” She looked right through me, as always, and spoke only to Clara. “Your uncle told me before he left for the day—we need to move your parents’ graves back here eventually. Traveling up north every year in this freezing weather… it’s exhausting for everyone, and it’s simply not proper.” Declan and Rowan stepped into the parlor. Standing behind them, I saw Clara shake her head and reply softly, “Mother and Father spent half their lives defending the northern borders. Being buried there was their dying wish. As their daughter, I cannot go against their final requests just for my own comfort.” Aunt Martha pulled Clara onto the plush sofa, sighing with pointed meaning, “You’ve always been the sensible one…” I sat off to the side, my mind wandering. Suddenly, someone plopped down next to me and called out: “Hey, Hazel. That weird-looking stray with the short hair outside… you picked him up?” I turned my head, glanced at Rowan standing on the porch, and then looked at my cousin, Blair Montgomery. She loved making my life miserable. I ignored her. She smirked and held out her hand. “Give him to me. I’ll trade you this solid gold bracelet for him.” I didn’t even blink. “No.” The girl let out a cold laugh. “Do you honestly think that by copying Clara and pretending to have a bleeding heart, bringing a beggar home, my parents will actually look at you?” Blair leaned in closer. “Let me tell you a secret: as long as you live in my house, no one will ever respect you.” Her eyes curved maliciously. “What’s the big deal about giving me a piece of trash you found on the street? At least you get some real gold out of it. It’s a lot better than back when you used to eagerly sew shirts and shoes to please my parents and brothers, only for them to toss your handmade gifts to the servants without a second glance.” I finally looked at her. My smile didn’t reach my eyes. “Sure. As long as you can tame him and make him willing to follow you.” “That’s easy! There isn’t a wild horse I haven’t broken!” Blair cheerfully tossed the gold bracelet into my lap. Later, Blair took Rowan away, repeating my exact words to him word-for-word. Rowan seemed heartbroken. I lowered my eyes, refusing to look at him, and mindlessly played with the gold bracelet. 06 I didn’t entirely trust Rowan. He was far too obedient in front of me, completely unlike the fierce rival to Declan I remembered from my dreams. How could anyone hand over their absolute loyalty to someone else so quickly and without reservation? I didn’t buy it. He needed to be tested. Clara disapproved of my methods. “Since he placed himself in your hands, you owe him the same level of trust. He’s your companion, isn’t he?” I told her that once he passed the test, I would trust him completely. Clara pressed her hand to the top of my head, like an angel trying to educate a foolish mortal. “But he doesn’t know that. He only knows that you broke your promise and abandoned him. Hazel, you aren’t testing him. You are hurting him.” I didn’t fully understand, but Clara was always right. Early the next morning, I hurriedly washed my face and ran toward Blair’s courtyard. Trudging through the uncleared snow paths, my dress hem soaked and heavy, I bumped into Declan, who was dressed in a sharp training uniform. “Ha…” He paused. “Miss.” I ignored him. He reached out to help me. “The snow is too thick, it’s hard to walk. Let me help you.” Smack. I slapped his hand away, bristling like a porcupine. “Get lost.” Declan froze, his fingers curling inward as his hand dropped. “…Do I displease you that much, Miss? What exactly did I do to offend you?” I kicked at the snow, the biting cold seeping through my boots. “Every single thing about you makes me sick. Move! Stop blocking my way!” Declan smirked slightly. “Is that so.” He watched me stumble through the snow for a moment. Then, suddenly, he reached out, scooped me up under his arm, strode effortlessly through the snowdrift, and deposited me onto a dry, sheltered walkway. “Let me go!” I scratched his face, leaving red marks. Once I was steady on my feet, I shoved him hard and glared at him. Unlike his cold, sarcastic demeanor in my dreams, he just laughed and bent down, his eyes looking disturbingly affectionate. “Eat more food, little Miss. Grow up fast. When you’re older, you’ll like me.” In his dreams. After saying that, he crouched down and used his own sleeve to wipe the wet snow off the tips of my boots. This bizarre gesture actually made me freeze in shock. Declan didn’t stay long. Uncle Arthur was selecting refugees to train as reserve guards at the military camp today, and he needed to hurry. This was incredibly important. Rowan couldn’t miss this opportunity either. I had to go get him. I shook my head, pushing Declan’s weird behavior out of my mind, gathered my heavy, wet skirts, and sprinted into Blair’s courtyard. I had assumed Blair, lazy as she was, would still be asleep, making it easy to just take Rowan away. But the moment I stepped into the courtyard, I heard her screaming in rage. “I ordered you to kneel! You dare defy me?!” 07 Snow fell from the eaves. It landed silently on the boy’s thin, bruised shoulders. He was pinned down by several burly guards, but he absolutely refused to let his other knee touch the ground. Clutched tightly in his bleeding hand was a vicious, barbed iron whip. Those eyes, which had always been so gentle and submissive around me, were now pitch black and terrifying. “I only kneel to the dead.” Blair laughed out of sheer fury. She had grown up practicing martial arts with her father and was wild by nature. She let go of the whip and ordered a servant to bring a sword. “That stupid girl really brought back a tough one. Fine. I want to see just how tough you can be today.” A servant brought out a heavy broadsword. It was one of Uncle Arthur’s battlefield weapons. “Cousin!” I hurried out, compromising for the very first time, and called out to her. “I changed my mind. Give him back to me.” Blair looked at me like I had lost my mind. “Huh?” I shoved the gold bracelet back into her chest, roughly pushed past the guards surrounding Rowan, pulled him up, and stood protectively in front of him. To shut Blair up, I even handed over two of my own jade bracelets and promised to do her literature homework for two months. Blair reluctantly let him go, clutching her easy loot and muttering that there was something seriously wrong with my brain. On the way to escort Rowan to the military camp, he didn’t say a single word. I thought to myself, Clara was right. I had hurt him. I had always been the one getting hurt by others. But this time, I had become the kind of arrogant, cruel person who threw their weight around. It didn’t feel good. I promised to take him under my wing, but I didn’t protect him. Just like how my uncle had promised my dying mother he would take care of me, but failed. I had failed too. As we reached the camp gates, Rowan lowered his eyes and walked past me, his tone deliberately formal and distant. “Thank you for escorting me, Miss. Your subordinate will go in now.” I didn’t know what came over me, but my heart felt like it was stuffed with wet, rotting cotton. I originally just wanted to use him to make Declan miserable. I never intended to treat him like a real companion. Technically speaking, he was just a beggar. A servant. I gave him clothes, food, and a future. I had already been incredibly generous. But I felt awful. Thinking about it deeply, I realized that other than Clara, no one else had ever treated me with such unconditional priority and care. I was too selfish. I didn’t want to lose that rare, precious bit of favoritism. The winter sun was slow to rise, casting dim, nervous shadows at our feet. Rowan stopped walking. He looked down. Two stiff, freezing fingers were lightly tugging at his sleeve. “…I’m sorry.” I spoke in a tiny voice. “I won’t do it again.” The cold, desolate wind swept past us in silence. The boy, who seemed to have grown even thinner overnight, had sharp, striking features. His thick eyelashes cast shadows over his eyes, hiding his gaze. I only heard his raspy voice. “You said it. That’s the second time. If you push me away again, I will truly get angry.” He leaned down slightly, lifting his eyes to stare right into mine. “When I get angry, it’s terrifying. Miss, I will eat you alive.” Like a starving wolf betrayed by its pack. I thought he was joking, because he was smiling. His dark pupils were clear and completely harmless. So, I smiled back. 08 Rowan entered the military camp. I heard that Uncle Arthur originally didn’t want to keep him, either because he looked too frail or simply because I was the one who brought him in. But his reckless, do-or-die performance on the training grounds was impossible to ignore. Uncle Arthur accepted him. The rumors painted him as a blood-soaked brawler, but when I went to see him, he looked perfectly fine. He was neatly dressed and smiled, asking me out for the Winter Festival, proudly announcing he was now a man with a real salary. The Winter Festival was the most important family gathering for the Montgomerys. The whole family went out to see the lantern displays and enjoy the festivities. Clara tried her best to split her attention to watch over me, but she was surrounded by too many people. Her hand would inevitably slip from mine. Eventually, I was left standing alone, watching the lively crowd carry her further and further away from me. But with Rowan, I never felt that kind of loneliness. His eyes were only on me. He held my hand tightly, and no matter how dense the crowd became, he never let go. We walked down the grand avenue, past the arcades, watching acrobats and tightrope walkers. Above us were towering displays of lanterns, paper-mache figures moving like immortals. Growing up on the streets, Rowan knew all sorts of novelties. Whether it was sword swallowers or puppet shows, he could always explain the hidden mechanics behind the illusions. “The most important thing is the eyes.” His bright, obsidian eyes looked at me. “Many illusions rely on the eyes helping the magician lie. Exposing them isn’t easy, because your own eyes betray you first.” Rowan sometimes said profound things like that. I didn’t really understand. A massive, brilliantly lit lantern boat shaped like a dragon glided past on the river. I was captivated and leaned over the stone bridge railing to watch. 09 The wealthy always had plenty of pastimes. After the Winter Festival came the Spring Hunt. Spring arrived late this year. It still snowed occasionally, and the grass hadn’t fully grown in. But Blair threw a tantrum, insisting on going to the mountains to hunt, so the family indulged her. Looking at the barren, reddish-green landscape of the mountains, I remembered a scene from my dreams. In the dream, I was incredibly bratty, insisting on riding Clara’s horse and forcing Declan to hold my reins. But my riding skills were terrible. A sudden blizzard hit, the horse lost its way, and I was carried deep into the desolate woods. Declan had followed me at first, but when he heard Clara calling for me, he abandoned me to go to her. I was attacked by wild dogs and severely traumatized. After that, my temper grew even more volatile, and before I even turned eighteen, I forced Clara to beg Uncle Arthur to arrange my engagement to Declan. The sky was gloomy, and a chilling wind blew. It wasn’t good weather. I looked thoughtfully toward the stables. Even though my personality in reality differed slightly from the dream, Clara and I rode identical horses. Why did I insist on switching horses in the dream? The Montgomery brothers were helping Clara pick out a saddle. Blair was exceptionally eager, personally saddling Clara’s horse. I walked over and noticed Declan sticking closely to Clara’s side. I felt a slight wave of relief. Even though he treated me terribly, he was undeniably good to Clara. If there was danger, he would definitely protect her. But a faint, nagging suspicion pricked at my mind, like a splinter I couldn’t quite locate. Watching Clara about to mount her horse, a realization flashed through my brain. Since when was Blair so nice to Clara? She always hated how the family favored Clara over her, their own flesh and blood. My heart tightened. As I stepped forward, I chose to trust my dream-self. To believe that— No matter how bad I was, I would always protect my sister. I ran over and grabbed Clara’s reins, looking up at her. “Sister, I like the horse you’re riding. Let’s trade!”

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It was the tenth year of our relationship. I accidentally answered his phone. “Julian, our furball just had a litter of kittens.” It was a gentle, sweet female voice. The caller ID read: [Little Kitten]. “He’s in the shower. Call back later,” I said, my voice ice cold, before hanging up. That night, Julian went crazy, snatching his scattered clothes off the floor, throwing them on, and rushing out the door. And I? I smashed our “home” to pieces, erasing every single trace of myself. Then, I boarded a flight out of the country. Three years later, Julian cornered me on a resort island. He stared intensely at the little toddler standing next to me, who bore a striking resemblance to him. With bloodshot eyes, he demanded: “Is he mine?” 01 Julian was relentlessly energetic, and I was so exhausted I could barely keep my eyes open. His phone, resting on the nightstand, wouldn’t stop buzzing. Half-asleep, I reached over and hit accept. “Julian! Our furball just had a litter of kittens!” It was a gentle, adorable female voice, but the words made my head explode. All my sleepiness vanished instantly. I glanced at the screen. The caller ID was “Little Kitten.” “Julian?” the voice on the other end called out again. I took a quiet breath, forcing my tone to remain completely flat. “He’s in the shower. Call back later.” There was a pause on the other end, and then the line went dead. When Julian stepped out of the bathroom, he only had a towel wrapped around his waist. Un-dried beads of water traced the lines of his muscles, soaking into the terrycloth. Across his back were a few fresh scratch marks—my handiwork. “Why don’t you sleep a little longer?” His gaze fixed on my collarbone, which was dotted with red marks, and his eyes darkened. As he leaned in to kiss me, I handed him the phone. He frowned in annoyance, snatched the phone, and tossed it carelessly aside. He pinned my wrists down, his breath trailing over my skin. “Little Kitten,” I said. The man burying his face in my neck froze. “She called you. She said your furball had kittens.” Julian was instantly wide awake. Like a madman, he scrambled to grab his clothes scattered around the bed, threw them on haphazardly, and sprinted out the door. I was left alone in the “home” we had decorated together. Watching him run towards another girl. 02 The girl was a blind date arranged by his family. They had started talking three months ago. It took them less than a month to go from meeting to officially dating, and they even adopted a stray cat together. She shared pictures of her food, her music, even a perfectly ordinary cloud in the sky with him. He replied to every single message. He would snap a picture of the dinner I had cooked, crop me out of the frame, and send it to her. Meanwhile, my chat history with Julian was nothing but work, work, and more work. It was only in the middle of the night, wrapped in the sheets, that he would whisper “wifey” in my ear. It was just a dirty word to him, something to spice things up. But I had cherished it, holding it close to my heart for ten long years. I laughed. I reached into the nightstand drawer and pulled out Julian’s pack of cigarettes. I hadn’t smoked in a long time, and the first drag made me choke. I coughed until tears streamed down my face. My coworker, Chloe, sent me a text: “Avery, did you know Mr. Vance is dating someone?” In front of everyone at the office, Julian and I kept things strictly professional. We even argued frequently over differing opinions. No one could ever imagine the scenario of Julian pulling me onto his lap and teasing: “What am I supposed to do with the girlfriend I chose? I just have to spoil her!” It would have seemed completely out of character to them. But today. Julian added that girl to the company’s main Slack channel. “Hi everyone! I’m Mr. Vance’s new personal assistant, Lily. Nice to meet you all~” Her display name in the channel was “Julian’s Little Kitten.” Some things don’t need to be explicitly stated to be understood. I don’t know how Julian explained away the phone call I had answered. All I knew was that Lily started adding everyone in the company on Slack. She was doing a process of elimination. Chloe sent me an eye-rolling emoji. “Work is annoying enough as it is, and now I’m being treated like an imaginary rival.” A moment later, Lily posted an update on her Instagram story. It was a picture of a cup of green tea. The caption read: [Answering someone else’s phone without permission is so classless~] Julian liked the post. Expressionless, I grabbed the baseball bat leaning against the wall and started smashing the apartment to pieces. Only when I was surrounded by a sea of wreckage did I finally smile in satisfaction. When the cleaning crew arrived, I was sitting on the sofa—the only thing I hadn’t destroyed—staring blankly into space. It wasn’t because the sofa was expensive; I was just tired. Honestly, I was so tired. “Ms. Price, are you alright?” Probably seeing how much of a mess I was, one of the cleaners asked. Meanwhile, my chat window with Julian hadn’t had a new message in two hours. I shook my head gently and offered a genuinely relieved smile. “Please pack up and remove all the women’s items from here.” 03 Julian and I went to the same university. He grew up in a very affluent, sheltered environment. His family had his entire life mapped out for him; all he had to do was follow the path. But he was stubborn. He cut ties with his family and started his own business. I was his first business partner. He provided the capital; I provided the sweat equity. I once asked him, why pick me? There were plenty of people at the university with better credentials than me. He casually twirled a pen, studying me intently. A genuine smile reached his eyes. “I like you,” he said. I froze. “—That relentless drive you have. You never surrender.” The fierce, ambitious vitality I possessed back then was what he admired. Later, that same ambition became something he feared. Lily was different from me. She was simple. The kind of woman he wanted to marry was exactly that kind of naive, unambitious girl who would revolve her entire world around him. He was very clear-headed. He knew what he needed, and he went out and got it. He and I were the same kind of people. We fought, we struggled, like predators lying in wait. Because of this, we had a flawless synergy in the business world, constantly strategizing and executing together. The networking at the dinners, the ruthless tactics in negotiations—it helped us climb the ladder rapidly. The night we closed our first million-dollar deal, we both got incredibly drunk. We lay on the bed, surrounded by a sea of hundred-dollar bills. Julian turned his head to look at me, his eyes filled with an emotion I couldn’t quite decipher. “Avery, you are fucking incredible.” I smiled. “You’re not so bad yourself.” The intense workload finally caught up with Julian, the former rich kid. He fell seriously ill with a high fever. I ran myself ragged taking care of him, but he suddenly rolled over and pinned me beneath him. I still remember the redness at the corners of his eyes. His entire body was flushed and burning hot from the fever. “I love you.” This time, there was no hesitation, and no add-on sentence. He stopped suppressing his feelings. The scent that filled my nose was his signature mix of faint tobacco and mint. My broken whimpers were swallowed up as he devoured me completely. It was burning hot. Hot enough to make your blood boil, pulling us both into the abyss. 04 I moved back into my own apartment. I had allowed myself to become too comfortable over the years. I had developed a habit of only being able to sleep in my own bed, resulting in a completely sleepless night. When I arrived at the office, I ran straight into Julian. I gave him a polite, distant nod. Julian frowned. “Julian!” Lily jogged over, inserting herself right between us. “Hi there, I’m Julian’s fiancée.” I nodded and replied, “Hello.” Hearing my voice, her expression fractured slightly. I didn’t bother with small talk and walked straight into the elevator. “You’re Avery, right?” Lily chased after me, with Julian right behind her. “I’ve heard Julian mention you a lot. He says you’re excellent at your job.” “But you know, it’s really not a good look for a woman to be out and about so much, mingling with a bunch of men. Shopping with your girlfriends, getting spa treatments—that’s so much more relaxing and comfortable. Leave the heavy lifting and the real work to the men.” “Don’t you agree, Julian?” Julian stroked her hair, his voice dripping with ultimate tenderness: “How could I possibly disagree with you?” Faced with Lily’s provocation, I showed absolutely no reaction. She must have recognized my voice and was now desperate to flaunt her relationship in front of me, marking her territory over Julian. “While you’re in the office, please refer to me as ‘Ms. Price.’ If you don’t know the proper etiquette, I’ll have HR set up a training seminar for you. Room and board included.” I ignored the reactions of the two people behind me and dramatically flicked imaginary dust off the spot Lily had accidentally brushed against. My reaction, however, enraged Julian. After sending Lily away, he marched straight into my office. I frowned in annoyance. “Mr. Vance, knocking on the door is basic professional courtesy.” I emphasized those last three words heavily. I was throwing Lily’s words right back in his face. He smirked, leaning over and trapping me between his arms and the sofa. “You were the one who willingly opened the door last night.” His gaze swept over the hem of my skirt, his meaning clear. Smack! I slapped him across the face without a second thought. A bright red handprint instantly bloomed on his pale cheek. Julian ran his tongue over the inside of his cheek, chuckled, stood up, and sat down opposite me. “I’ve already had my lawyers transfer the deed for that villa in the Hamptons into your name. And that plot of land you were eyeing upstate? The permits are almost approved.” Julian looked at me with half-lidded eyes, his expression flat. “Let’s make this a clean break.” He always knew exactly where to strike to cause the most pain. I had handed him the knife. And now, he was plunging it into me, again and again. Sitting there, looking down his nose at me, he reminded me exactly of my so-called stepfathers. Preaching love while simultaneously trying to buy me off. The thrill of a new affair disguised as “true love.” When Lily rushed in carrying a lunchbox, she walked in right as I threw a glass of water in Julian’s face. She screamed, charged at me, and slapped me. I have never been one to take a hit without retaliating. The only time I had ever truly lost was falling for Julian. My raised hand stopped mid-air, caught in Julian’s grip. He shielded Lily behind him, his tone laced with anger: “Avery! This is not the place for you to throw a psychotic tantrum!” I raised my other hand and slapped him across the face as hard as I could. Seeing the symmetrical red handprints on Julian’s face made me feel immensely better. “Without Julian, do you really think a woman like you could have reached the position you’re in today?” Lily stepped forward, defending Julian’s honor. “You’re fired.” “On what grounds?!” Lily lifted her chin, trying to look intimidating. “On the grounds that I hold thirty percent of the shares in this company, and on the grounds that you barged into my office without permission and assaulted a senior executive.” Lily panicked, her eyes darting nervously. Seeing that Julian wasn’t reprimanding her, she felt emboldened and continued to challenge my authority. “Julian is the majority shareholder, and I am his fiancée.” “Who do you think you are? If anyone is getting fired, it’s you!” A crowd of employees had already gathered outside the office door. Julian stayed silent, tacitly approving of her behavior and backing her up. There was no point in continuing this argument. “Fine. Let’s dissolve the partnership.” “I’ll sell you my shares at market value.” “Julian, I’ve done everything I can.” Julian, who had been silent, finally showed a crack in his icy facade when I pulled out the dissolution agreement. He probably hadn’t expected me to already have the paperwork ready to walk away. Lily smiled smugly. The one who is favored always feels invincible. “Who called the cops?” I covered my cheek and walked forward, stumbling slightly on purpose. “Officer, I was assaulted. “I’m feeling dizzy, my vision is blurry, and I feel nauseous.” 05 After getting evaluated at the hospital, I was diagnosed with a mild concussion. If I refused to settle out of court, Lily would spend at least a few days in holding. Julian wore a knowing smirk, looking at me like he saw right through my little act. But Lily was finally terrified, nervously tugging at Julian’s shirt. “Julian, I don’t want to spend the night in jail. I’m scared.” Julian softly coaxed her, telling her not to worry, that he would handle everything. With enough money, anything is possible. I wasn’t completely unreasonable, either. As we left the precinct, Julian grabbed my arm and pulled me into the shadows. “For money, you really have no shame.” I hooked my finger into his tie and yanked hard. He was forced to bend down, bringing us eye-to-eye. “If you’re going to step on my face to make your new toy feel important, you should have considered the consequences.” Instead of getting angry, Julian laughed. He reached out and rested his hand on the small of my back, pulling me flush against him. “You need to temper that attitude of yours. What man is going to put up with you?” I shoved him away in disgust and walked towards the parking lot. Julian followed behind me, his voice carrying clearly: “You know how my mother is. Her health hasn’t been great these past two years, and Lily is exactly the kind of girl she likes.” I ignored him, reaching for my car door, but Julian raised his hand and slammed it shut. “Avery, except for marriage, I can give you anything else you want.” “Go to hell!” I yanked the door open, slammed it shut, and sped away. In the rearview mirror, I saw him standing there, hands in his pockets, backlit by the streetlights, his expression unreadable. The streetlights stretched his lonely shadow out long. 06 In the hospital bathroom, I was dizzy and gagging. I had managed to disgust Julian and Lily, but I wasn’t feeling great either. I went home and immediately crashed. When I woke up the next day, I received a call from my mom. “Avery, you haven’t been home for dinner in so long.” I checked the calendar and agreed to go. An unfamiliar face opened the door for me. “Avery, this is your Uncle Bob,” my mom introduced him. I sighed. My mom’s new boyfriend. Unlike the refined, wealthy men she usually went for, this Uncle Bob looked like a regular, blue-collar guy. At the dinner table, my mom eagerly piled food onto my plate. “Avery, Uncle Bob has a son who just graduated college. Let him come work at your company.” Even though I was prepared for it, a flicker of disappointment still crossed my heart. “I quit.” “Why did you quit such a good job? Did you do something to make Mr. Vance angry?” My mom put down her chopsticks in shock. After thinking it over, she offered a suggestion: “Later, buy some nice fruit Baskets and go apologize to him. Julian doesn’t seem like a boy who forgets old friends.” Clatter! I slammed my chopsticks onto the floor, making a sharp, cracking sound. My mom started sobbing, leaning on Uncle Bob’s shoulder and crying: “This child has been stubborn since she was little. Whenever things don’t go her way, she throws things and throws tantrums. If her father hadn’t abandoned us, would I have had to raise a child all by myself and endure so much judgment? Has it been easy for me?” Uncle Bob hugged my mom, looking heartbroken. He comforted her, assuring her that she wouldn’t have to face this alone anymore. “Right, the whole world is wrong except for you. You’re the ultimate victim.” I sneered, ignoring the sickeningly sweet display behind me, and turned to leave. Since I was old enough to understand. Isolation and bullying made up my entire childhood. I was nothing but a bargaining chip for my mom to try and trap my biological father. Her endless clinging and pleading eventually enraged his actual wife. My mom had no choice but to drag me along as we drifted from one city to the next. No one welcomed our arrival; they always just wanted to take advantage of us. I fought off those people like a rabid dog, fighting for our basic rights. But in their mouths, I became a petty, fatherless wild child. “A house needs a man, otherwise widows and orphans will be bullied.” My mom was weak. She pinned all her hopes on men, constantly searching, bringing a steady stream of new “uncles” into our lives, each with their own ulterior motives. That year, I was twelve. I came home to find a drunk man pinning my mom to the floor, beating her. The woman lying on the floor, barely breathing, was my only family in this world. I fought the grown man with every ounce of strength I possessed. The man, having lost his mind, pulled out a knife. I actually felt a sense of relief, sighing that it could all finally be over. But my mom threw herself in front of me, hugging me without hesitation, her pristine white shirt slowly staining a brilliant red. I thought to myself. In this life, we are destined to torture each other. 07 “You sacrificed so much for that company. Are you really okay with just walking away?” Chloe was my protégé; she was very upset about my departure. I rested my chin on my hand and took a small sip of sake. Okay with it? Ten years of love and hate intertwined; I had certainly fantasized about our future. But when forced to choose between two options based on a cold calculation of pros and cons, there are no winners in this game. What’s done is done. Cutting your losses and walking away early is the best bad option you have. Seeing that I had no intention of going back, Chloe started complaining to me. To placate Lily, Julian had given her an empty executive title at the company. But Lily was constantly paranoid, treating every unmarried female employee with suspicion and interrogating them. She implemented absurd new rules, even demanding that women not wear makeup or dresses to work. Clients weren’t immune either, and the company had lost several contracts because of it. This was something I hadn’t anticipated. Julian, who had always been so steady and reliable, was actually allowing this kind of idiotic behavior. Maybe the Julian I knew was never the real him. Or maybe his favoritism toward Lily was the exception to his rules. But none of it had anything to do with me anymore. The day I left New York, there was a light drizzle. My mom was busy bonding with her new stepson. She gave me a few perfunctory instructions over the phone and quickly hung up. Right before I boarded my flight, Mark Davis called me. He was Julian’s childhood friend. We had met a few times and were relatively acquainted. I don’t know where he found out I was leaving the country. “Avery, you don’t need to hide out overseas. “I’m hosting a get-together, and Julian will be there. “Let’s clear the air. We can all still be friends.” 08 In the private room, Mark gripped his phone, his face looking grim. On the other end of the line, Avery had hung up on him immediately. When he called back, he only got the automated voicemail greeting. In an instant, the atmosphere in the room plummeted below freezing. Julian’s eyes were terrifyingly dark, suppressing a volatile rage. That phone call had been his idea. He had genuinely believed that if he offered an olive branch, the other party would gratefully accept it. He asked himself honestly: hadn’t he treated her well enough? He first noticed Avery because of her striking beauty, true. But it was her unrelenting, fiercely stubborn spirit that truly captivated him. He still remembered Avery standing on a stage, challenging the principal over the fairness of the scholarship distribution, a tiny figure fighting against the established rules of the world. He admitted, Avery was extraordinary. But New York City was never short on brilliant people. He gave her resources, he gave her connections, elevating her to the position she held today. He had even publicly acknowledged their relationship to his friends. What more could she possibly want? “Julian, if you can’t let her go, just go after her,” Mark, whose own wife had just left him, advised sincerely. Julian irritably lit a cigarette and let out a cold scoff. “It was just a fling. Does she really think she’s irreplaceable?” Julian acted like he didn’t care, but his erratic behavior recently proved he was just bluffing. For instance, deliberately indulging Lily’s absurd demands at the office, knowing the news would reach Avery. He constantly asked around about Avery’s situation, and had lingered outside her apartment building several times, only to leave. Mark had tried to advise him multiple times, telling him to figure out what his heart really wanted. Julian didn’t care. What right did Avery have to act so tough with him? It was only because she knew he still cared about her. He could give Avery everything, and he could take it all away. Now that his relationship with his family had improved, he only needed to say the word. There were plenty of people clamoring to do his bidding. What happens to a person who relies on calculation and strategy when they lose everything? He was waiting for that day. The day Avery, backed into a corner, finally lowered her head and submitted to him. At that point, for the sake of their ten years together, he would reluctantly take her back.

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The company’s top salesman came to me for his team-building expense reimbursement. I didn’t even look up as I flatly rejected his request. “I can’t approve this. The budget is gone.” He stared at me in absolute disbelief. “It’s only the 1st of the month. How can we be out of money? Every person gets a $100 allowance!” But I held my ground and absolutely refused to process his claim. Unable to tolerate it any longer, he went straight to the big boss to complain about me. “Boss! You can’t let her target her colleagues like this!” “If she doesn’t approve the team-building budget, how am I supposed to boost morale?” “She’s penny-pinching us to death! She’s trying to ruin the company!” Seeing that the situation had finally blown up. I smiled, stood up, and pulled out the last six months of billing records from my drawer… 1 When Jason’s expense report was slid in front of me, I didn’t even bat an eye. My fingers typed the final digit on the keyboard. Only after I saved the organized spreadsheet did I reach out and take that thin piece of paper. His flamboyant signature was scrawled across the top, and a glaring number was filled in the amount column. “I can’t approve this.” I pushed the form back to him, my voice flat and emotionless. “The departmental budget for this month is already depleted.” The smug smile on Jason’s face froze, as if he hadn’t heard me clearly. “What? Rachel, say that again?” I looked up, meeting his gaze directly. “I said, the administrative budget for this month is gone.” “That’s impossible!” He slammed his hand on my desk, drawing the side-eyes of everyone in the office. “It’s only the first of the month!” “The company’s team-building allowance is $100 per person per month. Our sales department has over a hundred people. You’re telling me a $10,000 limit is just gone?” A young salesman behind him immediately chimed in. “Yeah, Rachel, our top sales team just won a major contract. What’s wrong with having a victory dinner?” “You’re new here, so maybe you don’t know the ropes, but you can’t just block us like this, can you?” “Yeah, she has no social awareness.” “So petty!” “It’s not like we do this every month!” His subordinates chimed in one after another. Their voices weren’t loud, but they buzzed annoyingly like flies. I ignored the background noise, my eyes fixed solely on Jason. Seeing that I was unyielding, his expression of shock turned into rage. His face flushed red, and he pointed his finger at my nose, cursing: “Rachel, are you deliberately trying to make things difficult for me?” “Let me tell you, don’t think that just because you sit in that chair, you can control the sales department!” “We’re the ones making money for the company. We’re not here to take crap from a little accountant like you!” I leaned back in my chair, letting his spittle fly through the air, my tone remaining perfectly calm. “Jason, the rules are the rules.” “The portion your team overspent last month was automatically carried over and deducted from this month’s budget according to financial policy.” “So, this month’s allowance was completely wiped out at exactly midnight on the 1st.” My words carried clearly into every corner of the office. Instantly, a deathly silence fell over the room, leaving only the sound of the central air conditioning blowing. The colleagues who had been watching the drama unfold now looked at me with complex expressions. Some with pity, some with disdain, but mostly with an aloof indifference. They probably thought I was crazy—a new accountant daring to go head-to-head with the company’s hottest star salesman. What could possibly have overspent by that much? In the end, they definitely thought I was just too stingy to release that much money at the beginning of the month. Jason was choked up by my completely justified and factual statement for a long time, unable to utter a single word, his chest heaving violently. He had probably never imagined that his usually infallible tactics would hit a brick wall with me. Finally, he squeezed out a sentence through gritted teeth. “Fine, Rachel. Just you wait.” 2 He grabbed the expense report, crumpled it fiercely into a ball, threw it into the trash can in front of me, turned, and slammed the door as he left. The massive bang made the pen holder on my desk tremble. The tense air in the office only slightly loosened after his departure. Someone secretly shot me a “take care of yourself” look, then quickly lowered their head, pretending to be busy. Expressionless, I picked that crumpled ball of paper out of the trash, smoothed it out, and clipped it into a dedicated folder. They all thought this was the first time I had angered Jason, thinking I was a rigid, inexperienced rookie. Only I knew that this was not the first time. Jason’s expense reports were incredibly varied and staggeringly frequent. Dining out and hitting the clubs were commonplace; he even had the audacity to submit receipts from luxury spas and massage parlors for reimbursement. Every time, he would just toss the receipt on my desk and say something smooth. “Rachel, it’s all for team morale. You cover it first, and I’ll push the paperwork through immediately.” His “paperwork” meant never mentioning it again. When I first joined the company, before I understood how things worked here, I had fronted over $20,000. That money was still sitting lonely on my personal ledger, like an unclaimed bad debt. I had followed up twice. The first time, he laughed it off, saying he forgot and would get it done in a couple of days. The second time, he was in the middle of the office, surrounded by a group of subordinates, loudly boasting about the million-dollar contract he had just signed. I merely walked up to him and softly reminded him about the reimbursement. In front of everyone, he slammed his coffee mug down heavily on the table. The sound wasn’t loud, but it was enough to silence the entire sales department. He looked at me like I was a bothersome, ignorant child, and spoke slowly, his voice dripping with undisguised contempt. “It’s just a few thousand bucks. Do you really have to chase me for it every single day?” “One of my contracts is worth millions. Do I look like I’m short on your little bit of money?” The surrounding area instantly erupted in suppressed, mocking laughter. Those stares pierced me like needles. From that day on, I never asked for that money again. They all thought I had backed down, that I was a soft target scared off by a single sentence from the top salesman. Jason became increasingly brazen in front of me, treating my advances and tolerance as his natural right. I didn’t defend myself; I just slowly collected all this evidence, piece by piece. I would wait until he rolled his snowball of lies big enough, until the moment he could no longer cover it up himself. When all the bad debts exploded at once, he and his so-called “achievements” would be permanently nailed to the company’s ledger, with no chance of ever turning things around. I looked at the receipts in the folder that I had smoothed out—the evidence recording his greed—and a cold smile curled on my lips. Jason, don’t rush. This opportunity is coming very soon. 3 Starting the next day, my desk became the eye of the storm. At 5:59 PM, Jason’s most capable lieutenant, a guy named Kevin, dropped a half-meter-high stack of documents on my desk with a loud thud. “Rachel, urgent. These fifty contracts have to be mailed out tonight. The clients are waiting.” I glanced at the clock on the wall. The minute hand had just hit the twelve position. The office was filled with the noisy chatter of people packing up to leave. Kevin’s voice stood out clearly amidst it all, carrying undisguised provocation. I didn’t say a word. I simply pulled the pile of contracts toward me, verified the addresses one by one, checked the signatures and seals, and then packed them into shipping envelopes. The office emptied out, the lights went off one by one, until only the harsh white light above my head remained. The night deepened outside the window, and I was the only beacon of light left in the entire office building. When I dragged my exhausted body out of the building, it was nearly midnight. This was only the beginning. When I went to the pantry for water, someone would always “accidentally” bump into me. The boiling hot water would spill, either scalding the back of my hand or soaking the documents I had just organized. The apologies were light and utterly insincere, accompanied by suppressed snickers from those nearby. I could only repeatedly blot the soaked papers dry with paper towels, then spread them out on the radiator, watching the ink bleed into blurry smudges. The pantry became their stage. Jason and his followers would always specifically gather there to loudly boast when I was heating up my lunch. “Hey, look at some women these days, dressing like they’re from the middle of nowhere…” “All they know is how to pinch pennies. No wonder she’s destined to be a lowly clerk for the rest of her life.” “Right? Zero situational awareness. Treating the company like her own personal piggy bank, calculating every single cent.” “People like that, how could they ever be successful.” Their voices were neither too loud nor too soft, just enough for me and everyone else straining their ears to hear perfectly clearly. Expressionless, I took my lunchbox out of the microwave, turned, and left. Behind me was their increasingly brazen, roaring laughter. Rumors began to spread silently throughout the company. There were many versions, but the core idea was always the same— I, Rachel, because I had been publicly humiliated by Jason, was using my position to seek personal revenge. I was deliberately blocking the entire sales department’s reimbursements, trying to drag down the company’s performance. Those colleagues who had initially stayed neutral, or even exchanged polite nods with me, now looked at me differently. They began to deliberately avoid me. If they saw me in the hallway, they would turn down another corridor before we crossed paths. In the elevator, they would rather wait for the next one than share that small space with me. I was completely isolated. I became the “public enemy” of the entire company. A “petty,” “low-EQ” villain who was affecting the company’s lifeline over personal grievances. I still arrived at work on time every day, processing mountains of paperwork, turning a blind eye to the harassment and dirty looks. My silence, in their eyes, was seen as guilt, as stubborn resistance. Seeing that I still refused to “admit my mistakes,” Jason finally lost his patience. That afternoon, I saw Jason and several of his core salespeople walk into the Branch Manager, Mr. Sterling’s, office. I knew he was pulling out his ultimate move. 4 Half an hour later, the intercom rang, and a cold female voice came through. “Rachel, Mr. Sterling wants you in his office.” I put down my pen, smoothed my clothes, and walked over. Pushing open the heavy wooden door, the atmosphere in the office was oppressive. Mr. Sterling sat behind his large executive desk, his brows furrowed tightly. Jason stood to the side, a barely detectable smugness in the corners of his eyes. Seeing me come in, he even threw me a look of sorrowful helplessness, putting on a full performance. “Rachel,” Mr. Sterling’s voice was heavy, carrying obvious anger. “What exactly is going on with you lately?” I didn’t speak, waiting for him to continue. “Jason told me everything. Is it really just about approving an expense report? Did you really have to push things to this extreme?” “Right now, the sales team is full of complaints, and morale is at an all-time low.” “Several key members have even told me they’ve lost their motivation and want to quit!” Mr. Sterling’s fingers tapped loudly on the desk. “Do you know how much it costs to train a core salesperson?” “They are the heart of the company! They are the heroes who put food on all of our tables!” He paused, his tone growing even more severe. “Jason and his team are out there fighting tooth and nail for contracts. Do they really have to come back to the company and deal with your attitude just for a little team-building money?” “What do you think you’re doing? You need to be more service-oriented! You can’t be so rigid!” “Rules are dead, but people are alive! Do I really need to teach you this?” Every word was a dagger to the heart. I raised my eyes to look at Jason. The smugness on his face could no longer be hidden; the corners of his mouth turned up into the smirk of a victor. He looked at me, his eyes full of contempt and mockery, as if saying: See? You can’t beat me. So, this company had rotted to its very core. “Heroes” could ignore the rules, and the “heart” could do whatever it wanted. He probably had no idea how much public funds had been embezzled, treated as “small costs” to maintain morale. My heart instantly went ice-cold, but my face remained completely impassive. I lowered my eyes, looking at my clean fingernails, and spoke calmly: “Understood, Mr. Sterling. I will be more mindful.” No defense, no argument. Mr. Sterling seemed very satisfied with my “tact,” his expression softening slightly, and he waved his hand. “Alright, you can go. I know you’re very capable. Communicate well with Jason, and cooperate more in your future work.” I nodded, turned, and opened the door. Outside, the sales department staff were “coincidentally” hovering nearby. The moment I stepped out, all eyes simultaneously shot toward me, like countless poison-tipped arrows. Jason and his team followed me out, unabashed, victorious smiles plastered on their faces. I could read that kind of look. It was the strong crushing the weak; it was the thrill of watching an overconfident ant being stomped underfoot. The very air in the entire office had changed, filled with suffocating mockery. I could feel those stares on my back, peeling my skin, pulling my bones. I walked back to my desk, step by step, and sat down. It was terrifyingly quiet; even the sound of typing had disappeared. Everyone seemed to be enjoying a pantomime, and I was the sole clown. I clenched the hands hidden under my desk, my fingernails digging deep into my palms, causing a sharp sting. 5 The news that I had backed down after being “lectured” sprouted wings and flew to every corner of the company overnight. The next day, the atmosphere in the office was incredibly eerie. No one dared to speak loudly, but countless gazes wove over me, filled with schadenfreude and scrutiny. Jason arrived right on time at 10:00 AM, stepping to the beat of a victor’s drum. He was followed by the entire sales department, a massive entourage, like a triumphant army returning from battle, tightly surrounding my small cubicle. “Rachel.” Jason’s voice was loud, deliberately making sure everyone could hear. “You’ve thought through what Mr. Sterling said yesterday, right? Now, process my expense reports from last month.” “Then, for your inappropriate behavior, apologize to the guys in our sales department.” As soon as he finished speaking, his lackeys started jeering. Whistles and mocking laughter mixed together. Jason raised his hand to quiet them down, a magnanimous smile on his face, and stepped aside to clear a path. “Oh, right. I specifically invited Mr. Sterling over too.” “Young people make mistakes, it’s no big deal. Let the boss be a witness, so you don’t relapse in the future.” Mr. Sterling, his hands clasped behind his back, walked out from the back of the crowd and stood next to Jason. He looked at me, his eyes carrying the reprimand of a superior and a hint of impatience. He was clearly here to settle things, so this farce could end as quickly as possible. The air in the entire office solidified. Everyone stopped what they were doing, craning their necks, waiting for the moment I bowed my head in defeat. This was a public execution carefully orchestrated by Jason, designed to utterly trample my dignity underfoot. Under the watchful eyes of everyone, I didn’t look at the expense report shoved back in front of my face, nor did I look at Jason’s smug expression. I raised my head, my gaze bypassing him, and landed squarely on Mr. Sterling. Then, I smiled. “Mr. Sterling, since everyone is here, why don’t we have a meeting?” My voice wasn’t loud, but like a stone thrown into a dead pond, it sent clear ripples outward. Jason’s smile froze on his face, and Mr. Sterling also frowned. Before they could react, I stood up and pulled open the bottom drawer of my desk. I took out a thick folder and a compact black voice recorder. I walked to the door of the conference room, pushed open the glass door, looked back at the crowd, and said: “Please.” Everyone exchanged confused glances, but eventually, led by Mr. Sterling, they filed in. Jason and his crew brought up the rear. He stared at the things in my hand, a certain unease appearing in his eyes for the very first time. I walked to the head of the conference table and expertly connected my laptop to the projector. The folder and the voice recorder were placed right next to my hand. “Since this is about reimbursement issues, let’s start with reimbursements.” I clicked open the first file, and a massive spreadsheet was projected onto the screen. On the left were scanned copies of all the expense receipts submitted by Jason over the past six months. And on the right were the actual consumption records I had verified line by line. “First entry: December 3rd of last year. Jason requested a reimbursement for client entertainment, amounting to $8,600. The invoice was issued by ‘The Ritz-Carlton’.” I pointed a laser pointer at the entry on the screen, my voice steady. “But interestingly enough, at 7:30 PM that evening, Tyler from Jason’s team posted a set of photos from a karaoke lounge on social media, with the caption ‘Partying with the bros’.” “The location tagged was ‘Royal Club’ on the west side of town.” “In the photos, everyone from the sales department is present, but the ‘important clients’ you mentioned are conspicuously absent.” On the screen, right next to the invoice photo, that high-definition social media screenshot suddenly appeared. Face after young face, flushed red under the dim lights, the table piled high with imported liquor and fruit platters. Jason’s face changed color. His subordinates began to shift uneasily in their seats, whispering amongst themselves. 6 I didn’t pause, continuing to scroll down. “Second entry: January 19th. The reason for reimbursement: ‘Maintaining key client relations.’ Amount: $12,000.” “The invoice shows you spent this at a high-end luxury spa.” “But I checked the company’s access control records and the garage security footage. That afternoon, Jason, you and several core members of your team had no record of ever leaving the building.” “Third entry: February 14th. Valentine’s Day. Reimbursement for $5,200, under the category of ‘Emergency PR Expenses’.” “This receipt from a jewelry store in the attachments… I specifically called to verify it. The purchase was a women’s platinum necklace.” “I wonder which client required ‘Emergency PR’ that necessitated Jason personally going out to pick a Valentine’s Day gift?” Case by case, item by item. The evidence was irrefutable, fully documented with photos and text. In the entire conference room, apart from my voice, there was no other sound. The color slowly drained from the faces of the sales department staff; sweat began to bead on their foreheads. Jason finally couldn’t hold it in any longer. He stood up abruptly, pointed at me, and yelled: “Rachel! What is the meaning of this? What gives you the right to investigate my private life? This is all just chasing shadows!” “Chasing shadows?” I looked at him and pressed the play button on the voice recorder. Immediately, my own voice came through the conference room speakers. “Jason, the twenty-odd thousand dollars I fronted before…” Following closely was Jason’s familiar, arrogant tone, amplified by the speakers, sounding exceptionally harsh in the quiet room. “It’s just a few thousand bucks. Do you really have to chase me for it every single day?” “One of my contracts is worth millions. Do I look like I’m short on your little bit of money?” The suppressed, mocking laughter of his subordinates echoed around him. The recording continued. The scene shifted, the background a bit noisy. “…Just do as I say. Make the invoice out to our partner, ‘Apex Tech’.” “Write whatever you want for the description—office supplies, technical services, whatever. Keep the amount under five grand, and submit them in batches.” “That new girl, Rachel, might be a rigid pain in the ass, but she wouldn’t dare reject them…” This was an audio recording of Jason instructing his subordinates on how to falsify accounts. It was probably sent in their team’s private group chat and forwarded to me by someone. The recording finished playing. The conference room was deathly silent. Jason’s face had gone from flushed red to a deep, sickly purple. He opened his mouth, but couldn’t utter a single word. His lackeys were all ashen-faced, wishing they could sink into the floor right then and there. Mr. Sterling’s face was so dark it looked like a thundercloud. He stared fixedly at Jason, his gaze like a knife. “Jason, what else do you have to say for yourself?” “I… Mr. Sterling, I…” Jason’s voice trembled. “I did this for the team… to motivate everyone…” “Motivate?” I let out a cold laugh and projected the final document onto the screen. “I wonder if Jason’s ‘motivation’ also includes using company funds to poach the company’s own talent?” Appearing on the screen was a detailed corporate investigation report. “‘Vanguard Trading LLC’, registered just last month. Registered capital: $500,000.” “The legal representative is named Derek.” I paused, my gaze sweeping over Jason’s pale face. “As far as I know, that’s your cousin’s name, isn’t it?” “The most crucial point is that this company’s business scope—its core business operations—is almost exactly identical to the new product line our company is launching next month.” “And the capital used to register this company is less than a thousand dollars short of the total amount you’ve falsely claimed and embezzled over the past six months.” 7 I turned off the projector, and the conference room was bright again. I looked at Jason, who had collapsed into his chair, and articulated every word clearly: “Jason, this isn’t just corruption. This constitutes corporate espionage.” “You used our company’s resources and public funds to fatten up your own team.” “And now, you were preparing to use this money to set up a new company to steal our business. Am I right?” A fatal blow. The entire room was in an uproar. Mr. Sterling’s body shook with anger. He pointed at Jason, his lips trembling, unable to form a complete sentence for a long time. Jason’s face instantly went as white as a sheet of paper. His younger subordinates, who hadn’t been with the company long, also lost all color in their faces. They looked at him in terror, as if seeing this boss they had sworn loyalty to for the very first time. The entire office was dead silent, save for the projector’s cooling fan dutifully whirring away, a monotonous hum. It sounded like it was playing the final dirge for this farce. Jason suddenly sprang up from his chair, like a cornered beast, his bloodshot eyes glaring at me fiercely. That face, usually slick with overconfidence, was now twisted beyond recognition. “Forged evidence! This is illegal wiretapping!” He pointed his finger at me, his voice a hoarse roar, spittle flying across the conference table. “Rachel, who the hell do you think you are? What gives you the right to investigate me?!” He looked around at his subordinates, who were equally ashen-faced, trying to make one last desperate struggle. “You all saw it! This woman has had it out for us since day one!” “She just wants to ruin our sales department, to ruin the whole company!” His hysterical accusations were like a shot of adrenaline injected into the bodies of his die-hard followers. “Yeah! We bust our asses out there running sales! Why should we let an accountant screw us over like this!” “She’s just out for personal revenge!” “Mr. Sterling, you have to stand up for us!” Several people stood up along with him, shouting with false bravado. The previously frozen air became agitated again. Chaos rapidly fermented in the conference room, and the situation looked like it was about to spiral out of control. Just then, the heavy doors of the conference room were pushed open silently. A middle-aged man in a dark suit, his hair combed impeccably, walked in. He looked to be in his fifties, exuding a calm demeanor, but his eyes were sharp. Wherever his gaze swept, the clamor instantly died down. Everyone fell silent, including Jason. He stood with his mouth open, the slogan “ruin the company” still stuck in his throat. The man walked over to the conference table, his gaze falling on Jason’s trembling finger. He spoke slowly, his voice not loud, but it struck everyone’s heart like a heavy hammer. “What gives her the right?” He repeated Jason’s question, his tone flat, yet carrying an unquestionable authority. “I gave her the right.” The man’s gaze turned to me. He gave a slight nod, then his eyes landed on the already petrified Mr. Sterling. “Sterling, it seems there are massive problems with your management of the branch office.” “Rachel is an inspector I dispatched from headquarters, specifically responsible for auditing the financial and HR operations of the branch.” He paused, his gaze shooting toward Jason like cold lightning. “It looks like the audit results are quite spectacular.” “A star salesman, using company funds to wine, dine, and line his own pockets, even preparing to set up his own shop and hollow out the company.” “A branch manager, turning a blind eye to this, enabling corruption, and failing to manage his team.” The man’s voice grew cold, every word like a shard of ice. “Jason, you are suspected of corporate embezzlement and theft of commercial secrets. The company will immediately report this to the police. You can explain the rest to them.” “As for you, Sterling,” He looked at the pale-faced Mr. Sterling. “As of right now, you are fired.”

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I was the canary specifically cultivated by the CEO of the Sterling Group for his younger brother. My job was to use “love” to control Julian Sterling—to keep him from street racing, fighting, and messing around. It worked perfectly for a long time, and I naturally enjoyed two streams of income. That is, until the day I put on my usual tearful, pleading act: “Julian, please don’t race tonight. I’m really scared…” Julian, however, carelessly lit a cigarette. “Relax. Your man is the best.” A premonition hit me. I turned my head and saw the prize for tonight’s race. A girl wearing a long white dress. Dammit. My double salary is gone. I silently pulled out my phone and started drafting my resignation letter to his older brother. 01 Julian Sterling was a notorious troublemaker. His usual hobbies included, but were not limited to: Street racing and wrecking other people’s cars. Getting into brawls and putting other rich heirs in the hospital. Accepting any woman who threw herself at him, causing high-society catfights that inevitably ended with complaints to the Sterling family. Because of Julian’s extensive rap sheet, he was constantly trending on social media, which frequently caused the Sterling Group’s stock prices to tank. Eventually, an executive assistant brought me before the eldest Sterling son. Arthur Sterling sat with his long legs crossed, calmly assessing me. The assistant spoke respectfully: “This is the most beautiful girl at the Diamond Club.” After a long, heavy silence. Arthur indifferently withdrew his gaze, his long, elegant fingers filling out a check. The assistant handed it to me. I glanced at the number on the check and paused. Then I smiled. “Are you looking for a sugar baby?” The assistant clarified, “It’s for the Second Young Master.” Then came the list of instructions. For instance, Julian liked girls with long hair who wore white dresses. He disliked girls with sharp, aggressive personalities who talked back to him. He responded well to softness but rebelled against strictness. After the assistant finished, Arthur spoke his first sentence. His tone was as cold as ever: “You will receive this exact amount every month, transferred directly to your bank account.” He was absolutely certain I wouldn’t refuse. I pinched the edge of the check. After a moment, I gave Arthur a bright, radiant smile. “Deal.” He was right. I definitely wasn’t going to refuse. 02 Later, I was strategically placed in Julian’s path. The third time he played the hero and saved me, he looked down at me and smirked. “Little girl, it seems we’re meant to be.” I timidly lowered my head and whispered, “I’m sorry. I’ve troubled you again.” Julian clicked his tongue and used a finger to hook a strand of hair by my face. “Being too pretty isn’t always a good thing. Why are you always getting bullied?” The night wind caught the hem of my white dress. My soft, long hair fluttered gently in the breeze. My eyes welled up with red, and after a long pause, I let out a soft “Mhm.” “I… I’m used to it. It’s been like this since I was little.” Julian froze. Just then, a few of his friends stumbled out of the bar, looking around. “Julian, what are you doing in this dark alley?” One of them sized me up, grinning as he reached out to touch my face. “Where’d you find this beauty? She’s so fresh.” Julian slapped the hand away, his brow furrowed deeply. “Back off.” The other guys immediately tried to smooth things over. “Are you blind? Look at her, she’s obviously Julian’s girl.” Once those guys awkwardly shuffled away, My tears finally spilled over. I grabbed the cuff of Julian’s sleeve. He didn’t pull away. I looked up at him, my eyes full of vulnerable, stammering hope. “Because you were here, they didn’t dare bully me.” Julian curled a finger and wiped the tear from the corner of my eye. My eyelashes fluttered. Gathering my courage, I asked, “D-do you have a girlfriend?” The night wind was biting, making me shiver slightly. Julian bent down and effortlessly scooped me up into his arms. His tone was careless. “Not right now. And I don’t plan on having one in the future, either.” I stared at him blankly. Julian carried me toward his sports car parked at the intersection. Many eyes turned our way. Embarrassed, I buried my face in his chest, mumbling, “It’s okay. I… I don’t need a title.” My answer was exactly what Julian expected. After all, a young girl’s love and dependence are always so obvious and passionate. Julian let out a lazy smirk. After placing me in the passenger seat, he pressed a kiss to my lips. “Alright.” 03 Everything went smoothly, exactly as planned. In everyone’s eyes… I was beautiful, gentle, and completely unaware of Julian’s wealth. I just purely, innocently loved Julian the man. I loved him so much that I worried about him constantly. I hated it when he raced or fought, terrified he would put himself in danger. I hated seeing other girls around him because I loved him so much, I was terrified he would fall for someone else. But since I was just a girl without an official title, I couldn’t throw a tantrum. I could only cry and timidly beg him. Fortunately, Julian actually liked me quite a bit. As long as I cried, he would compromise on anything. He stayed out of trouble for a very long time, shocking everyone who knew him. Julian took me shopping, to the movies, on trips to take photos, and we kissed and slept together every day. His friends all said he had changed, that he had finally settled down. Arthur must have been pretty satisfied too, because he tripled my salary. I became the cherished canary in Julian’s palm, spoiled and pampered. In the eyes of many, I was the prime candidate to become the future Mrs. Julian Sterling. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if Julian truly cared about me, or if it was just the novelty of the situation. But I knew for a fact that Arthur Sterling would never allow a gold-digger who used to serve drinks at the Diamond Club to marry into the Sterling family. Even if I was brought directly to Arthur on my very first day working at the club. In the eyes of these elite, golden boys, just being allowed to squeeze into their circle was a privilege I should be grateful for. I couldn’t, and shouldn’t, hope for anything more. Arthur felt this way. Julian felt this way, too. So, when I once again put on my tearful, pleading act, begging Julian not to race… He carelessly lit a cigarette. “Relax. Your man is the best.” This was the first time—outside of the bedroom—that he had refused me. My eyes reddened as I looked at him. “Julian.” But Julian didn’t spare me another glance. He lazily put out the cigarette and walked toward his sleek, black sports car, which he hadn’t touched in ages. His back was tall and straight. The onlookers whistled excitedly; after all, this was Julian’s first race in over a year. I suddenly had a premonition. I slowly turned my head. A girl wearing a long white dress was being pulled by several men, dragged up to the podium where the prize for the race was usually displayed. She uneasily lowered her eyelashes, looking incredibly pitiful. In that moment, a complex mix of emotions washed over me. A wealthy heiress standing nearby glanced at me, playing with her manicured nails. “A few days ago when you were sick and didn’t go to the bar with Julian, that girl was serving drinks. She was being harassed, and Julian saved her.” I blinked slowly. Digesting the information in that sentence. In a span of ten seconds, a suspicion flashed through my mind. Could Arthur have customized another perfect canary for Julian? Impossible. Arthur would never do something so sloppy. Besides… this girl’s face showed fear, but also stubborn defiance. She didn’t have my practiced, artificial fragility. I sighed and looked up at the sky with profound sadness. My eyes filled with tears, though it was purely muscle memory. I had cried so much it had become a conditioned reflex. But I was genuinely sad. My double salary was gone. Seeing me like this, the heiress scoffed coldly. “You really don’t know your place. It was only a matter of time.” I silently unlocked my phone. I searched for “How to write a resignation letter.” How to write it professionally yet with deep emotional sincerity, so I could squeeze one last payout from Arthur. After all, I had worked so incredibly hard. 04 Julian won. The other rich kid’s car spun out and crashed. The scene devolved into absolute chaos until the sound of approaching ambulances grew louder. The others didn’t dare blame Julian, so they took their anger out on the girl. “If something happens to Liam, you’re dead meat! Just wait and see.” The girl stumbled back a few steps, trembling with fear. Julian stepped in front of her with a cold sneer. “You guys are real tough, taking it out on her.” I stared at them for a few seconds. Then I walked over, took off the jacket Julian had draped over my shoulders earlier, and placed it over the girl’s shoulders. I said gently, “It’s cold tonight. Don’t catch a chill.” Facing Julian’s probing gaze, I smiled perfectly. “When you helped me back then, it was on a night exactly like this.” The girl stared at me blankly. Then she turned to look at Julian. “Julian, is she…” Julian didn’t answer. He just lowered his eyes, staring fixedly at me. Being stared at like that, I couldn’t even maintain my fake smile. I could only manage a bitter, strained twitch of my lips. After all… With this incident, forget a resignation bonus—my salary for this month was probably going to get docked by Arthur. Sigh… Docked or not, I’ve saved up quite a bit. But wait, I wouldn’t be held legally responsible for this, would I?! The thought sent a shiver down my spine. The more I thought about it, the more plausible it seemed, and my expression grew increasingly panicked. The girl nervously clutched Julian’s shirt. “W-what’s wrong with her? Does she hate me…?” Julian finally pulled his gaze from my face, his tone flat as he comforted the girl: “No. Don’t be afraid.” I walked away like a soulless ghost. There were still many people watching the drama unfold. After all, they hadn’t expected the day I’d be cast aside to come so soon. Julian didn’t chase after me. The girl was in a cold sweat from the shock, so Julian had someone take her to change her clothes. Actually, I was in a cold sweat too. I pulled out my phone, my sweaty palm smudging the screen. I wiped it on my dress, opened my email, and decisively hit ‘Send’ on the resignation letter I had drafted for Arthur. The language was incredibly earnest, expressing both my utmost dedication to the job and my profound gratitude to Arthur for providing me with the opportunity. I needed to sever ties before I could be held liable! Just then, I received a call from the manager at the Diamond Club. “Chloe, do you have time to come by tomorrow? You left some things in your locker.” I froze for a second, then remembered. “Sure.” After hanging up. I hailed a cab and went back to the apartment I had secretly bought for myself. In order to maintain the perfect skin and energy required to perform for Julian, I rarely stayed up late. But once I finally relaxed… I took out my SIM card, curled up in bed, and played on my phone until dawn. I slept until evening before finally waking up. I popped in a new SIM card, threw on an oversized t-shirt, shorts, and flip-flops, and headed to the Diamond Club completely bare-faced. It had been a long time since I felt this relaxed. When the manager saw me, she froze for a moment, then led me to get my things. She didn’t ask any questions. After grabbing my stuff, I waved goodbye to her. I was just about to turn around. When I heard a familiar voice. “Is this the place?” The male voice was deep and casual. A girl answered softly, “Yes.” The others trailing behind them marveled, “Julian, you’re the best. Coming all this way to stand up for her. Whoever bullied her is screwed.” Julian looked at the manager. “Bring the people who were in the same group as her.” I silently pulled a face mask out of my pocket, lowered my head, and tried to walk the other way. “Chloe?” someone exclaimed in surprise. No way. They could recognize me like this? I frantically ruffled my hair and shook my head wildly. The manager seemed to sense my aversion. She stepped forward with a smile. “Who is that? Young masters and misses, let me show you to your private room first.” I couldn’t help but feel a surge of gratitude. The next second, my wrist was grabbed in a vice grip. Julian’s voice echoed through the opulent lobby, his tone leaving no room for argument: “Look up. Take off the mask.” I stiffened. But I didn’t move. I kept my head down, staring at the floor, pretending I was deaf. The room fell dead silent. Until a fragile voice called out pitifully, “Julian, my stomach hurts.” We remained at an impasse for a few more seconds. Julian finally let go of my hand and walked toward the girl. I walked out step by step, my nerves pulled taut. Terrified that I might still have a part to play in this drama. It wasn’t until I was sitting in the back of a taxi that I finally processed what had just happened. The scent of cedarwood that usually clung to Julian had been replaced by a faint floral perfume. They had been together for a long time… Long enough for their scents to rub off on each other. 05 For the next few days, I did nothing but eat, sleep, play video games, and binge-watch TV shows. Honestly, every second I spent with Julian required a massive amount of energy to maintain my disguise and be the person he wanted me to be. I knew very well that Julian wouldn’t like the real me. I hate wearing white dresses, I hate eating fine dining, and I hate wearing uncomfortable designer heels. I was not his perfect canary. So this life I was living now was absolutely perfect. I gradually snapped out of the funk of losing my high-paying job. Until an intense doomscrolling session brought me to the news that Liam, the heir to the Miller family, was hospitalized with severe injuries. The media was tearing into Julian, calling him a lawless, reckless playboy, and saying the Sterling family needed to take a hard look at themselves for raising such a son. I let out an exaggerated sigh. Looks like they couldn’t bury the story this time. After all, I had heard that the injured Liam Miller was the only heir to the Miller family. His parents had him late in life, and he was incredibly precious to them. It was going to be a bloodbath for the next few days. I was gloating, imagining Arthur completely stressed out trying to clean up Julian’s mess. Until the drama landed right on my doorstep. I wasn’t laughing anymore. I stepped out to buy a watermelon and was grabbed by bodyguards who had been waiting downstairs for God knows how long. They dragged me straight to Arthur’s office. … I don’t know if it was my imagination. But Arthur’s office felt even colder than the last time I was here. He wasn’t exhausted or stressed like I had imagined. Instead, he was as cold and calm as ever. “Long time no see, Ms. Brooks.” I stayed silent for a long moment, then squeaked out guiltily: “Mr. Sterling.” This time, there was no one else in the office besides him and me. “Ms. Brooks, it seems you’ve forgotten what you promised me.” Arthur slightly lifted his chin, his dark eyes locking onto me. I gave an awkward smile. “Julian fell for someone else. He wanted to stand up for the girl he liked. There was nothing I could do.” Arthur didn’t say a word. His gaze carried the condescension of someone accustomed to power. After a long, tense silence, I spoke up slowly: “You could always hire someone else to manage Julian. That girl’s words carry much more weight with him now.” Arthur smirked coldly. “Not everyone is like you, only caring about money.” I froze. My first instinct was that he was insulting me. But he said it without any emotion, seemingly just stating a fact. It looked like Arthur had already approached the girl, but she had refused. “So, you came looking for me to…?” I pursed my lips. Arthur lifted his eyelids, assessing me unhurriedly. Then he said flatly: “The Miller boy. He specifically requested you to be his private nurse.” A nurse? Me? I immediately asked, “Does Julian know?” This was a blatant insult to me, and an insult to Julian. Even if Julian had lost all feelings for me, he wouldn’t allow this. “Your employer is me,” Arthur tapped the desk, his words concise and to the point. Oh, so Julian didn’t know. Arthur wanted to use me to placate Liam and the Miller family’s fury. I sighed helplessly. “Didn’t you see? I resigned, Mr. Sterling.” The office was quiet for a few seconds. I looked up, staring straight at Arthur. “But I could always come back to work. Just a change of position, that’s all.” The underlying implication was: It depends on how much you’re paying. Even though Liam’s request was meant to be humiliating, I honestly didn’t feel humiliated at all. Being a highly-paid private nurse was a much more respectable job than being a sugar baby. Arthur’s expression was unreadable as our eyes met. After a long time, he rubbed his temples. He tore off a check, placed it on the desk, and pushed it toward me. “Fill in the amount yourself.” I suddenly felt a wave of profound emotion. On one hand, I envied Julian for always having someone to clean up his messes. On the other hand, I marveled that Julian had really messed with the wrong guy this time. I happily picked up a pen and added a very long string of zeros after the first digit. 06 I knocked on the door of the hospital room. A voice drifted lazily from inside. “Come in.” Pushing the door open, I saw a man with his left arm in a cast, leaning lazily against the hospital bed. A foreign movie was playing on the TV in front of him. Aside from his pale face and bloodless lips, he looked like he was on a beach vacation. But from what I had gathered about him while I was with Julian, he had always had this laid-back, cynical personality. And most importantly… He was very, very generous with his money. I put on my best professional smile. “Mr. Miller, is there anything you need me to do?” He leisurely scanned me from head to toe. “I thought you’d come in here crying and throwing a tantrum.” It seemed my persona as a fragile canary was deeply ingrained in people’s minds. I let out a soft sigh. “You were injured because of Julian. It’s only right that I do my part to help.” My words were incredibly sincere and earnest. Liam looked at me with a half-smile, clearly doubting the authenticity of my statement. After a long pause, he suddenly dragged out his words: “It’s so hot in here. Help me take my shirt off?” I froze for a second, then obediently lowered my eyes, unbuttoning his hospital gown one button at a time. Revealing his bandaged chest. I asked, “Should I take the pants off too?” This time, it was Liam’s turn to freeze. “Sure.” He answered surprisingly quickly. Me: “…” I shouldn’t have tried to play chicken with him over who was more shameless. But the words were already out there. I scoffed internally, deciding to just go for it, and reached for his waistband. Just then. A low, irritated voice came from the doorway: “Don’t try to stop me. I want to see just how badly he’s hurt. Dammit, always causing trouble for my brother.” Before I could react, the door was kicked open. My body went stiff, my hand still lingering near Liam’s waistband. The loud, chaotic noise outside vanished instantly. In the deafening silence, a chill ran down my spine. It was Liam who broke the deadlock. He smiled warmly, gently pulling my hand away from his pants, his tone intimate. “Alright, alright, there are too many people here. Let’s wait until later.” The next second, a fierce gust of wind from a flying fist swept past. I instinctively turned around and threw myself in front of Liam. The fist stopped one centimeter from my face. I breathed a sigh of relief. I was Liam’s private nurse now; I had to ensure his safety. After all, considering how much I was getting paid, I had to take my job seriously! “Chloe!” A raspy voice, grinding out the syllables, exploded in my ear. Meeting Julian’s furiously bloodshot eyes, I nodded awkwardly. “Julian, good afternoon, good afternoon. What brings you here?” A change in title was necessary. My service target had switched from Julian to Liam. I had to have professional awareness. Julian gripped my hand tightly, his face dark. “Why are you here?” Liam raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you asking a question you already know the answer to?” “Shut up!” Julian snarled, using his other hand to pinch my jaw. It hurt enough to make me gasp. “Chloe, why are you here?” I stayed silent for a moment. I couldn’t exactly say I was hired by his older brother. “I… have a connection with Liam…” I chose my words carefully. “He’s injured, so I came to take care of him.” Liam raised an eyebrow slightly. “Yeah. It was love at first sight.” Julian’s face turned icy. “A connection? Love at first sight? Chloe, you ignore my calls and texts for days, just so you can take care of him?” I pressed my lips together. Liam clicked his tongue. “Don’t yell at her.” The hostility clashed and exploded in the air. Julian grabbed Liam by the collar of his hospital gown, speaking through gritted teeth. “Mind your own business.” The tension was palpable. It felt like Liam was going to get punched any second. But the patient just smiled calmly, not showing a hint of panic. One of the guys following Julian quickly spoke up to diffuse the situation. “Maybe our Chloe is just jealous. She’s throwing a fit to test her place in your heart, Julian.” Julian paused slightly, glancing at me. “Is that true?” I scratched my cheek, answering vaguely, “Uh… I…” “Come back with me.” Julian smirked. “No.” “No.” Liam and I spoke at the exact same time. If I didn’t complete the job I agreed to, what if Arthur demanded his check back? Julian laughed out of pure anger. “What kind of tantrum is this? Are you addicted to making me look like a cuck?” The guy next to him whispered to me, “Julian helping that girl was only because she reminded him of how you used to be. At the end of the day, he was helping you, Chloe.” Me: ? I was bewildered for a moment, realizing this guy was trying to make excuses for Julian. But I didn’t care. I was actually getting pretty annoyed. My execution of the innocent, devoted canary persona in the early stages was too perfect, leading them all to genuinely believe I was just throwing a jealous tantrum. Just then, a stroke of genius hit me. I covered my face and started sobbing loudly. The others froze. I gasped out between sobs, “Julian, you hurt someone, and it’s your fault. I have to take care of Liam to atone for your sins…” Julian frowned, his gaze locked tightly onto me. The others suddenly understood. “Looks like our Chloe hasn’t changed. She’s still as kind-hearted as ever. She just wants to take responsibility for your actions. Don’t be mad, Julian.” “Dammit, who asked you to atone for anything?” Julian cursed under his breath, grabbing me and pulling me toward the door. “I’ll hire ten nurses to take care of him until he dies.” The bodyguards stationed outside the room blocked Julian and me. Liam’s voice floated over. “You can leave if you want, but don’t take my person.” Julian sneered. “She is Chloe, and she is my woman. Isn’t that common knowledge?” “Oh.” A soft chuckle came from inside the room. “Why don’t you ask her if she wants to go with you?” All eyes instantly fell on me. Waiting for my answer. I silently pulled my arm out of Julian’s grip. Tears streamed uncontrollably down my face. With red eyes, I met Julian’s gaze. “Julian, I have to take responsibility for what you did.” Julian stood frozen in place. The air grew suffocatingly silent. “I’m sorry…” I muttered with my head down. “Julian… I’m sorry…” Julian stared at me fixedly for a few seconds. Then he turned and walked away. Without saying a single word. The people who had come with him followed him out. The last one to leave looked at me with exasperation. “Chloe, is it really that hard to just apologize and go back with him?” I didn’t answer, maintaining my heartbroken persona as I walked back into the hospital room. And met Liam’s meaningful gaze. “Wow.” He said casually. “That was a very convincing act.” I wiped my tears away and shot him a glare. I picked up an apple from the bedside table and started peeling it. I was here as a private nurse, not a sugar baby. Naturally, I didn’t need to put on a sweet, gentle act for Liam. “How much did Arthur pay you?” Liam asked casually. I played dumb. “Who?” He didn’t push it. He pulled out his phone with his right hand and started playing on it. I quietly peeled the apple. Then I peeled a pear. Then a peach. … Until a phone screen appeared right in front of my face. The lighting in the video was dim, the figures blurry. But I could clearly make out a slender girl sitting on a man’s lap. Over the chaotic music, I could hear a few delicate cries: “Julian… Julian…” I pretended not to see it. The next second, I froze. For some unknown reason, the people in the video started fighting. It was brutal. Screams echoed everywhere. I abruptly stood up. Julian was in a fight! I threw down the paring knife and hurried toward the door. “I need to use the restroom.” Once in the corner, I dialed Arthur’s number. “Mr. Sterling, Julian is in a fight at the Diamond Club. It looks pretty serious.” There was a pause on the other end. “Understood.” I didn’t hang up. With a ping indicating a $5,000 transfer, Arthur hung up the phone. I returned to the hospital room, completely satisfied. “I thought you wouldn’t care about him.” Liam said coldly out of nowhere. Only an idiot turns down easy money. I sighed, “Ah, well. We did have history.” Humming a little tune, I started peeling a lychee. Then Liam announced: “I want to go see the drama too.” Me: ? I disagreed. “What if Julian hurts you again?”

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