Category: English

1 It was my fifth year as a private investigator, and I’d just taken on a completely routine infidelity case. My phone vibrated in my pocket—a message from my wife, Iris Jiang. She said she’d be home late tonight to celebrate my birthday, adding mysteriously that she had a surprise for me. I was still looking at the message when the scene through my camera lens froze me. Iris, her clothes disheveled, was locked in a tight embrace with a strange man outside a hotel, kissing as if no one else existed. That profound tenderness was something she’d never shown me in our nearly ten years of marriage. It wasn’t until the click of the camera shutter that I snapped back to reality. I looked down at the familiar face in the photo, then up at the two still locked in an embrace not far away. A sense of absurdity washed over me. I gave a bitter laugh, thinking: What surprise could possibly compare to catching her cheating with my own eyes? … My finger hovered over the screen for a long time. I never sent the last message. Instead, I sent the photo I’d taken to Iris. When I returned home, Iris came back shortly after. Her face was calm, not a hint of panic at being caught. She was holding a birthday cake box. The atmosphere was silent. She didn’t say a word. It wasn’t until the cake box was placed on the dining table that I looked up at her. “You cheated.” My voice was hoarse when I said it, aching painfully. She frowned, no longer trying to hide it. “You already knew, didn’t you? You know I could never let go of Brett.” “Always have, always will.” Receiving the answer I’d expected, I thought I could truly remain calm. “He’s not doing well now, he’s in a lot of debt, and that’s the only work he can do.” “I’m just helping out his business. Don’t make it sound so awful.” Brett. It was Brett again. Ten years of marriage, and that name was a thorn in my heart. I thought with time, she’d eventually forget. I never expected that even now, she truly hadn’t let go. I found it somewhat ridiculous, and a film of mist welled up in my eyes. “Helping out his business all the way to bed?” “Did you forget we’re married? For ten years!” Iris tutted, rubbing her temples, her face full of helplessness and impatience. “Brett has a strong personality. He wouldn’t take money if I just gave it to him, so if I gave him money, he’d insist on providing a… service.” “So you just slept together?” I pulled out my phone, pointing at the photo on the screen, my entire body trembling. “He knows you’re married. What ‘strong personality’? I think he just wants to be a homewrecker!” The moment the words left my mouth, a sharp pain flared across my cheek. The taste of rust instantly spread in my mouth. Iris’s hand froze mid-air, stunned after the slap. Her lips trembled as she tried to apologize to me. “Mason, I…” The slightly ajar door creaked, and Brett poked his head in from outside. His expression was awkward when he saw the scene inside. “I… I came to bring Iris her lipstick. She left it at my place.” As soon as he spoke, as if making a decision, he immediately pulled the door open and drew Iris behind him. “Mason, I’m sorry. I was the one clinging to her, it’s my fault.” “Whatever anger you have, direct it at me. Iris is innocent.” His reaction immediately made Iris feel protective. The last trace of guilt she felt towards me completely vanished. “It’s none of your business. We didn’t kill anyone or set anything on fire. What’s all this talk of innocent or not innocent?” My tongue touched the inside of my cheek. The slap stung badly; I could see the imprint of five fingers on my cheek even through the mirror. “Since you already know, choose for yourself: divorce or stay together.” Her nonchalant words sent a sharp pang through my heart. It almost hurt too much to stand upright. She knew I couldn’t leave her, otherwise she wouldn’t have made such a ridiculous demand. I opened my mouth, but before I could speak, a jarring phone rang repeatedly. Brett, who had been protecting Iris, instantly paled. He fumbled to hang up the call. “Iris, the loan sharks are calling me again. I’m really scared.” “I, I need to go to work.” How could Iris let him leave now? Right in front of me, she tightly grasped Brett’s hand, her tone stiff. “Are you going to sleep with other people again? How much more do you owe? I’ll give it to you.” After she said this, she instinctively looked at me. “My secondary card still has fifty thousand. I can lend it to you.” My head buzzed, and I instinctively spoke out. “Are you crazy?! Do you know that money…” “Sorry, really, no need. It’s all my fault, I’m just so worthless.” Brett’s eyes were bloodshot. He pulled his hand away from Iris and left. Iris, her face full of worry, followed him. The front door slammed shut with force. The gust of wind it created chilled my heart to the bone. Ten years of marriage, and it amounted to nothing. Half my face was swollen high. I held ice to my cheek, staring blankly at our wedding photo on the wall. From the beginning of our relationship, I knew there would always be someone between Iris and me. When we were getting engaged, I took her to customize rings. That day, she stared at the display of ring samples for a long time. When I asked her about it, she subconsciously replied. “My first love never brought me here.” My hand, engraving a letter, paused. When I looked up at her, I saw tears streaming down her face. My lips trembled, and those around me looked at me strangely. “You still like him?” “Not like. Love.” After getting the matching rings, I was silent for a long time. I considered breaking up, but then she said. “That’s all in the past. What matters is that I chose you.” “If you really mind, we don’t have to get married.” Her words stirred my compassion. It was all in the past, and the future was with her. Time, perhaps, would change everything. Driven by this thought and a quiet stubbornness, I still chose to marry Iris. I thought she was willing to spend her life with me. It wasn’t until the first year of our marriage, after a work dinner, that I was rushed to the hospital with a severe stomach infection. The doctor examined me and said I needed surgery. But when I went to withdraw money from my bank account, I found that the money was gone. Tens of thousands, not a single penny left. I immediately contacted Iris. Only she knew the password to that card. We had agreed when we got married that the money in it was not to be touched unless absolutely necessary. Iris was silent for a long time on the other end of the phone before she spoke. “I lent that money to someone. I didn’t know you were sick.” She tried to explain but refused to tell me who she had lent it to. No matter how much I pushed or questioned, she wouldn’t say a word. When she learned I needed surgery, she rushed back from out of town. She borrowed money, nursed me back to health, and apologized profusely. “Mason, please forgive me. You can hit me, curse me, whatever, just no next time.” After enough money was raised, my illness still left me with chronic issues because the surgery wasn’t performed in time. When I was discharged, I brought up divorce to Iris. She even got down on her knees and begged me. “I just lent the money to someone who needed it. I truly didn’t expect you to get sick. You can’t divorce me over this.” “Money can be earned again.” She pleaded incessantly, but when I again asked her who she lent the money to, she still said. “I can’t tell you, but don’t worry, it won’t happen again.” Because of those desperate pleas, I eventually softened. The stinging pain on my face persisted; the ice had melted. Only now did I understand that the money all those years ago had been given to Brett. And all these years later, he still hadn’t paid it back. I wiped away my tears and took down the wedding photo from the wall. Since Iris couldn’t forget her ‘white moonlight,’ there was no need for me to hold on any longer. I cut off contact with Iris. For about a week, she didn’t come home. Until today, my phone rang incessantly. It was Iris calling. When I answered, a sharp, angry voice came from the other end. “Mason Lu, are you disgusting? What are you trying to do?” “Those photos sent to the company email, you sent them, didn’t you? Now everyone in the company knows about Brett and me. Are you satisfied?!” I gripped my phone, a little confused. I knew nothing of what Iris was talking about. Seeing my silence, she became even more frantic. “Don’t tell me you don’t know about this? You took those photos, didn’t you?!” I took a deep breath, my voice calm. “I don’t know what photos you’re talking about. If you mean the one of you cheating, I only sent it to you.” My words completely pushed Iris over the edge. The next second, our chat window was flooded with naked photos. My face turned ashen. Every single one was of her and Brett. Explicit photos. And a copy of her termination report. “If not you, then who? I really didn’t think you’d stoop to secretly taking photos?” “Satisfied? Because of this, I’m a laughingstock! Brett is hiding at home and dares not come out.” I closed my eyes, gritting my teeth. “Iris Jiang, your cheating is your fault. If you don’t mind being dirty, I do! Do you really think Brett is a good guy?” “Do you know that he!” Iris let out an angry laugh, directly interrupting me. “Since you won’t admit it, then you just wait and regret!” She slammed the phone down. I rubbed my temples, forcing myself to calm down and deal with other matters at the agency. However, not long after, several police cars pulled up outside my office. The police officers, their faces cold, looked around the agency. “Mr. Lu, correct?” “Someone has reported you for disseminating obscene material and violating privacy.” I froze, instantly recalling what Iris had said on the phone. She actually reported me to the police! “My agency is legal and compliant, and I absolutely did not disseminate anything!” “Mr. Lu, all the evidence currently suggests you are responsible. Your computer also contained secretly taken photos.” But that photo was merely a kissing photo. “Those were photos I took for work. They even have timestamps…” But no matter how I explained, it was useless. They sealed my agency. And I was detained for fifteen days. Fifteen days later, I was released from the police station. Before I could even fully process things, my former clients one by one came knocking. They crowded outside my office, all berating me fiercely. “Detective Lu, we hired you because we trusted you.” “Who would have thought something like this would happen!” “Leaking personal privacy, what was the point of signing a non-disclosure agreement? This is a crime!” Once something like this happened, no matter how innocent I truly was, in the eyes of others, I was tainted. Even if I repeatedly assured them I had never leaked their privacy, repeatedly stressed that I was framed, no one believed me. “Your agency has been shut down. Your words are garbage. We won’t believe a single word.” “Pay up! Pay up!” Some even sided with Iris, making a scene outside the office. They held banners and banged drums. Everyone on the street knew me. They accused me of being unfit for such work, of making dirty money. They all demanded compensation. Someone recorded the scene and posted it online. It spread widely. I was doxxed. My name and address were found. Every time I left home, I’d see various threatening letters, dead cats, and blood-stained razor blades outside. This made me afraid to leave the house for a long time. Iris returned about half a month later. She looked at the mess in the house, her eyes cold. “Mason Lu, had enough suffering lately?” “Go apologize to Brett, and I’ll forgive you and help clear your name.” Iris’s words made me snap my head up. My eyes were bloodshot, and I almost gritted my teeth. “Isn’t all of this because of you?” “What unforgivable thing did I do to make you hate me this much?” “Iris Jiang, we’ve been married for ten years! Damn it, even a dog gets attached after that long!” Iris froze. She couldn’t meet my gaze and quickly looked away. “Fine, even if it wasn’t you who spread the photos, the photo you sent me was indeed taken by you without permission.” “That’s a fact, and Brett and I were both implicated because of it.” “Brett has been kicked out of the club now, and no one is willing to let him work there anymore.” “His job loss is because of you.” Iris grew more and more self-righteous as she spoke. I scoffed. “His job is gone, so is mine still here?” Iris’s face grew increasingly impatient. She lowered her voice. “If you apologize, your agency still has a chance.” My agency was my life’s work for five years. I couldn’t bear to see it disappear just like that. I neither agreed nor refused. Iris arranged a dinner, just the three of us. In the private room, Brett looked timid and hesitant when he saw me. “Mason, I know you have issues with me, but I’m really struggling.” “Because of this, I lost my job, and I still have a large sum of money to repay.” Iris picked up a glass, already filled to the brim with white liquor. “Drink it, and this whole thing is over.” “I won’t contact Brett again, and you’re not allowed to do anything to him either.” “Your agency can also be reopened.” My face paled, and I looked up at Iris. She knew that my stomach had already developed chronic issues back then. She knew. All these years, I’ve had to take medication constantly to stabilize it, and my stomach problems would flare up from time to time, risking a perforated ulcer. “Drink it, is it so hard to drink a glass of liquor?” Iris impatiently pushed a full bottle of white liquor towards me. I forced a bitter smile. She had forgotten. I tilted my head back and drank the entire bottle of white liquor. I only stopped when a sharp, searing pain erupted in my stomach. Iris’s eyes held a complex expression. She reached out to grab me, but I fiercely pushed her hand away. “Satisfied? I’ve granted your wish, Iris Jiang. I won’t bother with you anymore.” I stumbled out of the private room. Picking up my phone, I opened the chat window of my earlier client. I sent the photo of Iris and Brett to the client, who was overseas. “I have captured the evidence of your fiancé’s infidelity.”

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When I finally learned that my long-lost daughter had been found, I immediately dropped everything and rushed back home. Stepping out of the car, a girl quickly approached me, intimately taking my hand. Her voice carried a hint of deliberate envy: “You must be my older sister, right? Look at your skin, so well-maintained. You must have never known hardship, unlike me, who tasted every bitterness in the countryside.” I hadn’t even fully processed this sudden address when she abruptly yanked my hand towards herself, dramatically falling to the ground. “Sister! How could you push me?” she cried, clutching her arm, tears instantly welling up. “If you really don’t want me here, I’ll leave right now. I won’t be an eyesore…” She choked back a sob, adding, “Please, don’t tell Mom and Dad. I don’t want them to be torn, and I certainly don’t want my presence to disrupt this family’s peace.” With that, she curled up on the ground, trembling like a leaf in the wind, drawing curious stares from passersby. I stood there, utterly bewildered—What older sister? I’m her mother! … “Sister, please don’t be angry…” “I… I know I was wrong… I shouldn’t be a bother here…” In front of me, Mishay was still on the ground, a picture of pure injustice. Passersby rushed to help her up, their gazes at me burning with anger. “You’re Elara Culver, aren’t you? The fake heiress adopted by the Culver family?” “How dare you push Mishay? You’re just an imposter, what right do you have to bully the real daughter?” “Fakes are always fakes; all they know is how to stir up trouble!” The crowd murmured, their eyes filled with disdain. “Please don’t talk about my sister like that…” Mishay suppressed her sobs, staggering forward and clinging tightly to my wrist. “It’s alright, Sister. You can hit me, you can scold me. I’m used to it, growing up in the orphanage…” “Only…” She paused, large tears streaming down her face. “Sister, could you please let me see Mom? I grew up in an orphanage and never even knew what Mom looked like…” Hearing this, the crowd instantly erupted. “Mishay is so pitiful! The true daughter of the Culver family, abandoned in an orphanage to suffer!” “Elara Culver, you’ve usurped her place for so many years, and now you won’t even let her see her mother? Are you even human?!” I looked at the crowd, my brows furrowed. When did I ever forbid her from seeing her mother? It’s her who didn’t recognize that I am her mother. These past few years, due to the sensitive nature of my work, I’d never appeared in public, so almost no one had seen me. Coupled with my meticulous skincare routine, I still looked quite young. But I never imagined I’d be mistaken for my adoptive daughter, Elara Culver. “Sister, I beg you…” Mishay suddenly dropped to her knees before me, gazing up with tear-filled eyes. “After I see Mom, I’ll leave immediately and never appear before you again… Please, Sister, I just need to see Mom once…” I looked down at her, a swirl of emotions in my heart. Last week, I was on a secret mission. It wasn’t until I left the lab today that I learned my daughter had been found, and I rushed back home. All the way, I’d been imagining our reunion, thinking about what to say. But I never in a million years expected that the first time my biological daughter saw me, it would be to frame me. “Get up first.” I bent down to help her. “Mishay, actually, I’m not—” My words were cut short. Suddenly. “What are you doing?!” A furious voice boomed from behind me. 2 “Mishay, you don’t have to be afraid of her.” Caleb Thorne walked up, helped her to her feet, and glared coldly at me. “You’re Elara Culver?” “Let me tell you, Mishay is my girlfriend. It’s not your place, you imposter, to bully her!” The moment he spoke, the surroundings erupted. “Girlfriend? Young Master Thorne is with Mishay?” “But Young Master Thorne has an engagement with Elara Culver! Is he publicly breaking it off? That’s a huge slap in the face!” “So what if he does? Mishay is the real heiress. What is Elara Culver anyway?” “Tsk, tsk, Elara Culver is completely humiliated now. If it were me, I’d crawl into a hole and disappear.” Listening to the chatter, my brows furrowed deeper. Caleb Thorne was the only son of the Thorne family, and I had personally chosen him as a suitable match for Elara. I had planned for the two children to meet after I finished my current projects. I never expected him to appear here so suddenly, or that he would be embracing Mishay and claiming she was his girlfriend. “Elara Culver, since you’re here today, I’ll make things clear.” Caleb stared at me, holding Mishay tightly in his arms. “I fell for Mishay at first sight. She’s the one I want to marry.” “As for you, my parents forced you on me. I wouldn’t be caught dead with someone who throws herself at people like you.” A burst of laughter erupted from the crowd. I clenched my fists, a cold sneer escaping my lips. This engagement, his parents had begged us to accept it. The Thorne family’s finances were on the verge of collapse a few years back, and it was my old friendship that saved them. If anyone was “throwing themselves at people,” it was his Thorne family, shamelessly clinging on. “Caleb, darling, don’t say that.” Mishay tugged at his sleeve, then looked up at me. “Sister, please don’t be angry. Caleb just can’t stand to see me wronged.” As she spoke, a flicker of triumph and pride flashed in her eyes. I stared at her face, my heart clenching painfully. Mishay had wandered off and been lost for over a decade, and I had searched for her all those years. I had yearned for her return, and now she was finally home. But I never imagined… she would become this kind of person. “Elara Culver, I know you must like me and want to marry me.” Caleb arrogantly tilted his head. “But I don’t like you. You should give up.” “Who said I like you?” I finally couldn’t help but chuckle, looking up at him. “Caleb Thorne, I’m already married. How could I possibly want to marry you?” The air quieted for a moment. Caleb was stunned, then burst out laughing as if he’d heard the funniest joke in the world. “Married?” “Elara Culver, what are you trying to pull? How could you be married?” “You’re not trying some ridiculous reverse psychology because you like me so much, are you? I told you, I’m not interested.” Listening to his words, I found it increasingly ridiculous. I had initially agreed to let him be with Elara because I’d seen him at a banquet once and thought he was presentable, worthy of my daughter. I never imagined that, in private, he would be such an arrogant, self-important fool. “Sister, I’m so sorry…” “But Caleb and I truly love each other. You’ve already taken everything from me these past years.” “Just let me have Caleb!” Mishay sobbed, tears streaming down her face, burying herself in Caleb’s arms, trembling. Caleb hugged her tighter, his eyes burning as if he wanted to flay me alive. I stared at her, truly at a loss for words. I had searched for her for seventeen years, fearing she would suffer, be bullied, or not live well. Yet now, she was publicly putting on an act, slandering her own mother, and stealing her sister’s fiancé. What was even more ridiculous was that the man she was stealing was someone of Caleb Thorne’s caliber. “Sister, I beg you!” Seeing that I still hadn’t spoken, Mishay cried out anxiously, “You can’t take Caleb away!” “You clearly… clearly already secretly with another man…” 3 Mishay’s words hung unfinished as she clapped a hand over her mouth, feigning regret for speaking out of turn. “Another man? What other man?” Caleb’s face darkened. “Mishay, what do you know? Speak clearly.” “I…” Mishay looked at him with feigned difficulty, then suddenly turned and bowed deeply to me. “I’m sorry, Sister… I didn’t mean to say it… I just didn’t want Caleb to be deceived…” With that, she pulled out a photo from her phone and held it up. It was a picture of me and a man embracing. My face was clear. The man, however, was only a blurred profile, unidentifiable. “Holy cow! Elara Culver has a boyfriend too? So what is this? Cheating on Young Master Thorne?” “Who’s that guy? Looks a little familiar.” “Doesn’t matter who. He doesn’t look young, does he? Tsk, tsk, I can’t believe Elara Culver would ditch Young Master Thorne for an older man. Her taste is… unique!” Listening to the whispers of the crowd, Caleb’s face grew uglier. The next second, he suddenly lunged forward, grabbing my hand, his eyes blazing with fury. “Elara Culver, how dare you cheat on me!” I was utterly dumbfounded by his absurd accusation. Firstly, I wasn’t Elara. Even if I were, and Elara did have a boyfriend, what business was it of his? The engagement hadn’t been formalized, and they hadn’t even met. He could be openly affectionate with Mishay and announce their relationship, but Elara had to remain chaste for him? What kind of logic was that? “Actually…” Mishay, seeing the situation, hesitantly uttered two more words. She shot me a provocative glance, then suddenly sighed. “Sister… actually, you’re not just involved with this one older man, are you?” “My people also caught you frequently entering those kinds of places, and the men around you were also…” At this, her voice stopped, and she looked at me, as if advising me. “Sister, a woman still needs to respect herself. You mingling with so many men is really…” Hearing this, everyone’s gaze swiveled to me. “I can’t believe it, this Elara Culver is actually that kind of person.” “She must have been used up by now, what a cheap whore.” “This imposter knows no shame? She should just get out of the Culver family!” The curses grew uglier, and the looks they gave me became incredibly lewd. I stood my ground, my eyes fixed on Mishay. I couldn’t believe it—my own biological daughter was spreading malicious rumors about me! “Sister, what’s past is past. I’ll definitely help you keep it a secret.” “And I certainly won’t let Mom and Dad know about this, don’t worry.” As she spoke, she suddenly reached out again, feigning intimacy, to take my hand. A chill seeped into my bones. I took two steps back, instinctively shaking her hand off gently. “Ah—!” Mishay suddenly shrieked and fell backward, hitting the ground hard, even rolling twice before stopping. “Mishay?! What happened? Who dared to push you?!” Hasty footsteps approached from a distance. The next second, a familiar figure burst through the crowd and helped Mishay up from the ground. I followed the sound and saw an incredibly familiar face. It was the man from the photo Mishay had just used to slander me. My husband of twenty years, her father. Arthur Culver.

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I’d promised my childhood friend, the one always getting picked on, that I’d transfer schools with him for a fresh start. But the day before the transfer agreement was finalized, he suddenly backed out. I’d inadvertently walked past his classroom door and overheard him talking to his buddies. “You sly dog! Playing the victim all this time, just to ditch Avery McEwan.” His friend’s voice was dripping with teasing. “But she’s been with you since you were kids. Can you really stand to let her go to a strange new school alone?” another voice pressed. Bobby Leslie’s reply was icy cold: “It’s just moving to another district for school. How far could it be?” “She’s always been clinging to me, it’s annoying. This way, I’ll finally get some peace.” I stood outside the door for a long time, until my legs went numb before I slowly turned and walked away. Back home, I crossed out “Oceanview High” on my transfer application and replaced it with the overseas boarding school my parents had already arranged. Turns out, everyone had forgotten that there had always been a chasm between him and me, as wide as the sky and the mud beneath our feet. 1 The truth hit me like a physical blow, my heart seizing in my chest. For the past month, Bobby had been the target of endless bullying and false accusations. I’d done my best to shield him, but there were always times I couldn’t. Finally, I’d suggested he transfer. He’d just had a bucket of ice water dumped on him, his handsome face pale and pitiful. He gripped my hand, looking utterly helpless. “Avery, I’m scared to go to an unfamiliar place alone.” Bobby and I were childhood sweethearts, practically, walking to and from kindergarten together, a routine that hadn’t changed in over a decade. Plus, I harbored a secret crush on him. So, swept up in the moment, I’d promised, “Don’t worry, I’ll go wherever you go.” But only now did I realize it was all an elaborate charade to get rid of me. I couldn’t help but wonder, did Bobby really hate me that much? The voices from inside the room continued. “Avery McEwan is totally devoted to you.” “If you send her to another school now, aren’t you worried she’ll fall for someone else?” “Her?” Bobby scoffed, as if he’d heard the funniest joke imaginable. “She’d block a group beating for me, even got her face bruised and swollen, but never backed down. You think she’d change her mind about me?” Someone murmured, “What if? Avery McEwan doesn’t look like someone to be messed with.” Bobby’s tone was lazy. “No ‘what if.’ There are plenty of rich kids at Northwood High. Have you ever seen her give anyone else a second glance?” His voice inevitably carried a hint of disdain. “Always following me around. Even a lapdog isn’t as clingy as she is.” A harsh laugh erupted from the room, like a slap across my face. I wanted to leave, but my feet felt rooted to the spot, forcing me to listen, to ache. Someone whistled. “First time I’ve seen a guy actively push away a girl who likes him. Gotta admire your game, man.” “But if you didn’t like Avery McEwan being so clingy, couldn’t you have just told her? She doesn’t seem like the type to hold a grudge.” Bobby clicked his tongue, a hint of impatience creeping into his voice. “Avery McEwan is too… intense. It wouldn’t have been easy to shake her off if I’d just told her straight.” He then changed tack. “Besides, Chloe always feels inferior and upset when she sees Avery. She only feels better when I’m with her.” “For Chloe’s sake, this was the only way. Avery will just have to be inconvenienced for a bit.” At his words, everyone immediately understood. Timing it out, Bobby’s decision to fake the bullying started about a week after Chloe transferred to Northwood High. Someone laughed, cursing Bobby good-naturedly. “You dog, you’ve been eyeing the new innocent girl since she got here?” “But Chloe is genuinely delicate and charming. Any guy would be drawn to her, it’s only natural.” “Unlike Avery McEwan. She’s got this intense personality and a perpetually cold face that keeps everyone at arm’s length. Doesn’t matter how pretty she is, that just won’t do.” The casual remarks about me in the room surged like a tide, wave after wave. And Bobby, the boy I’d secretly loved for years, offered no objection, no rebuttal, occasionally even nodding in agreement. I stood outside the door, my heart plummeting into a dark abyss, empty and aching. For a moment, I wanted to burst in and confront Bobby. Ask him why he lied to me. Ask him if he felt even a flicker of guilt or softness when he saw me getting beaten for protecting him. Ask him if he’d considered our decade-long friendship when he did all this. But ultimately, my mother’s words echoed in my ears: Don’t do anything unnecessary. People don’t just rot overnight. I turned and walked away from that room. 2 The pain, a sharp, lingering ache, hit me belatedly. Initially, I wouldn’t have been this upset. It was just a friend’s betrayal, nothing major. But that boundary, the line of ‘just friends,’ Bobby had been the first to cross it. The day we decided to transfer together, he’d dragged me to a bar to celebrate our ‘freedom’ with drinks. In the dim, ambient light, I looked at the man I’d secretly loved for years, feeling a little lost. So, when he leaned in and kissed me, I didn’t resist. Years of suppressed emotions erupted. Unable to hold back, I asked for confirmation, “Bobby, what are we now?” Bobby affectionately kissed my forehead again. “Silly, what else would we be?” Cheers erupted in the private room, the atmosphere as heated as my own burgeoning passion. It took only two days for Bobby to shatter my one-sided affection with his own words. I smiled, but tears streamed uncontrollably down my face. So, that mumbled, vague rhetorical question—was that also Bobby’s way of tricking me, trying to hurry me along for Chloe’s sake? The wind chime in my bedroom tinkled, slowly drying my tears. My broken heart began to piece itself back together. Bobby was wrong. He was merely the illegitimate son of the Leslie family, and I was the only daughter of the McEwan family. We truly shouldn’t cling to each other. Because, we weren’t a match. The transfer application in my hand was smudged by my tears, the ink bleeding, making it illegible. But it didn’t matter. If this one was ruined, I’d just get a clean one. The McEwan family never lacked alternatives. I printed a new form, and when I got to the ‘transferring institution’ section, I called my mother. “Mom, which overseas high school were you talking about wanting me to attend last time?” “Yes, I’ll go alone.” The wind chime in my room made a clear, melodious sound, as if celebrating with me. I closed my eyes briefly. This time, it wasn’t Bobby’s face that appeared before me. Instead, it was a man, three parts similar to Bobby in looks but even more striking and handsome, who smiled at me, just as he had two years ago, with the same certainty and seriousness: “Avery McEwan, you’ll give up on Bobby Leslie and choose me, eventually.” Back then, I’d thought he was joking. Now, I murmured inwardly. Bobby Leslie, I truly don’t want you anymore. After filling out the new application, I let out a long breath, my heart already quietly at peace. But then, a knock sounded at my bedroom door. I froze. I lived alone in this house; the only person who knew the code would be… I opened the door and, sure enough, saw Bobby’s face. His voice was as gentle as always. “Avery, you haven’t come to say goodbye to your friends in a while. I was worried about you.” I tried to keep my voice calm. “My stomach’s not feeling great, so I’m not going.” Just as I was about to politely dismiss him, my peripheral vision caught an unexpected figure. Chloe, petite, huddled beside Bobby. The moment her eyes met mine, she flinched. Bobby, ever attentive to her every move, immediately draped an arm protectively around her. “Avery, you’re scaring Chloe.” It was always like this. Chloe always acted fragile, as if I were some heinous villain out to harm her, even though I’d done nothing. My face grew cold. “I told you, I don’t like people coming to my house.” Bobby frowned slightly, displeased. “Chloe isn’t an outsider. Besides, she only came because she was worried about you.” Before I could argue, Chloe’s eyes suddenly welled up. “Avery, I’m so sorry. I know you’ve always looked down on me, but I shower every day.” She added, tearfully, “I won’t make your house dirty…” At her words, Bobby immediately furrowed his brow, looking at me with displeasure. “Avery, Chloe just comes from a less privileged background, she’s not as bad as you imagine. You treating her like this really disappoints me.” Chloe tugged carefully at Bobby’s sleeve, forgiving and understanding. “Bobby, it’s okay, please don’t argue with Avery…” She sniffled, offering a wronged yet stubborn smile. “After all, Avery said you two were childhood sweethearts. How could I ever compare to a relationship like that…” “What are you talking about? You’re unique.” Bobby tenderly cupped Chloe’s face, coaxing her with soft words. He then turned to me, his face as cold as ice. He spoke gravely. “Chloe isn’t feeling well. I’m taking her home first.” “You should seriously reflect on yourself. Don’t forget to get that transfer application stamped.” I did reflect on myself—on my terrible judgment of character. Then I went and changed the code to my front door. The knot of frustration in my heart finally loosened, if only for a moment. 3 The next day, I took my new application form to school for a stamp. Watching the bright red mark, signifying my departure, settle firmly on the paper, my heart felt strangely hollow for a moment. Lost in thought, someone blocked my path. Bobby frowned slightly. “Avery, did you change your door code?” “I dropped Chloe home yesterday and went straight to your place, but the door wouldn’t open…” I cut him off, succinctly. “Yep, changed it.” He seemed a little annoyed, as if nothing had happened, asking intimately, “What’s the new code? So I can come over and look after you.” I said calmly, “No need. I won’t be living around here after I transfer.” Bobby looked at the folded application in my hand, as if suddenly remembering something. “I completely forgot about this. Don’t worry, Avery, I’ll get mine stamped tomorrow.” These kinds of walk-and-talk moments with Bobby had become increasingly rare since Chloe transferred to Northwood High. I closed my eyes, indulging the lingering reluctance in my heart, and probed, “Between us, what’s there to worry about?” Bobby was silent for a long time, then abruptly spoke. “Avery, actually I…” Chloe suddenly appeared behind Bobby, carrying a stack of notebooks, complaining intimately to him. “Bobby, didn’t you say you’d help me with tutoring? How did you just disappear?” She handed him the notes. “I saw your study plan goes out two months, so I prepared the corresponding materials.” She winked playfully. “You won’t mind me peeking, will you, Bobby?” “How could I…” Bobby’s smile was strained. He glanced at me guiltily. Seeing no reaction from me, a flicker of disappointment actually crossed his face. So, while pushing me away, you had already planned a future with someone else. Just that your future, it never included me. I tried my best to maintain a dignified composure. Deep down, however, a bitter taste, like a rich, aged wine, spread boundlessly. I dug my nails into my palm, forcing myself to stay clear-headed. “You two chat. I’m leaving.” Chloe acted as if she’d just noticed me, startled. “A-Avery…” “Is it because Bobby and I are studying together that you’re unhappy?” “But I come from a humble background, unlike you with all your resources…” As she spoke, she actually started to sniffle again. I wasn’t in the mood to play along. I said coolly, “Move aside.” The thin sliver of guilt in Bobby’s eyes vanished. He grabbed my wrist, his voice laced with anger. “Avery McEwan, what kind of tone is that?” He dragged me unceremoniously in front of Chloe and roared, “Apologize to Chloe!” The last piece of sacred ground in my heart silently crumbled into rubble. This time, I didn’t hesitate. I raised my hand and slapped Bobby hard across the face. “Bobby Leslie, the one who should be apologizing is you.” “But not to Chloe. To me.”

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My roommate, Tiffany Moore, thrust a spare phone into my hand, complaining with an impatient sigh. She said her thirty-five-year-old online boyfriend was driving her crazy. He nagged her daily about memorizing vocabulary, writing reading notes, and even interfered with her weekend bar hops downtown. In her eyes, it was just a casual online fling, something to pass the time between sorority parties and dates, but he was possessive, acting more like a strict father than a romantic interest. I was initially indifferent, ready to bury my nose back in my microeconomics textbook, when suddenly a barrage of comments exploded before my eyes. Some said Tiffany was foolish, unaware her online boyfriend was a venture capitalist titan worth billions. Others explained it wasn’t possessiveness, but him grooming her to be his future wife. Still others predicted that when the “titan” returned to the States and found his chat partner had changed, he would surely deal with me, the stand-in sidekick, before returning to Tiffany for a dramatic reconciliation and a “chase-wife-to-the-moon” arc, our version of the over-the-top “chase-wife-to-crematory” trope. Reading this, I picked up the phone and smiled at Tiffany. I told her I’d gladly endure this “suffering” for her from now on. So what if I was a stand-in? Who cared about a “chase-wife” plot? My mind was already racing, eager to connect with that titan and ask if he knew any shortcuts to getting into a top-tier business school, Harvard, Stanford, Wharton, anything better than the small state university I was struggling to afford. 1 Right in front of Tiffany, I changed the registered phone number and handed her the spare phone back. She took it, glanced at me, and sneered, “That cheap old man might toss you a few bucks, but his demands are insane, like a college dean breathing down your neck. Enjoy.” She was right; a rich kid from the business school would casually buy her a designer purse worth thousands, so she probably looked down on a mere three thousand dollars a month. Tiffany grabbed her leather jacket and left for her date with a football player, and the dorm room grew quiet. I opened the chat box with no profile picture. The last messages were from last night. [This week’s Wall Street Journal headlines. Read them and send me a summary.] [Why aren’t you replying?] [You better get your attitude straight and take this seriously. I don’t have time for your games.] My eyelids twitched. I scrolled through six months of their chat history. They had met on a business forum. Tiffany, pretending to be a studious, cash-strapped pre-business student, had asked a question about startup funding, and this man, whose username was “J.Y.,” had answered with surprising depth. They’d exchanged contact info soon after. Their conversation held no flirtation or romantic undertones; it wasn’t a “cyber romance” at all. It mainly revolved around: What book did you read today? How many words did you memorize? Have you kept up with the latest economic data? It was clear he genuinely wanted to help Tiffany. Tiffany, with her decent English and knack for faking interest, took it seriously at first. But as time went on, she started faking illnesses, whining about “stress,” or just sending a perfunctory AI-generated response. J.Y. would initially patiently correct her, but later, sensing her laziness, his tone grew colder. Yet, he still sent three thousand dollars in living expenses every month, right on time, via Zelle, no questions asked. In Tiffany’s eyes, three thousand dollars was barely enough to cover her weekly coffee runs and sorority dues. But for me, a genuinely struggling student who worked four part-time jobs a month, barista, library assistant, tutor, and grocery store cashier, to barely cover rent and textbooks, it was a godsend. I’d grown up in a small town in Ohio, my mom a single waitress, my dad long gone. College was a miracle, and grad school felt like an impossible dream, until now. The comments started scrolling again: [J.Y. is Julian Yan, the legendary Chinese-American VC who shook the Silicon Valley scene! Any insider tip he drops is enough for an ordinary person to live comfortably for generations. And Tiffany just handed him over like that?] [Serena Carter, this cannon fodder, really thinks she got a bargain, huh? Julian hates deception. When he finds out he’s talking to someone else, he’ll definitely make her pay!] I ignored the malicious comments, my gaze fixed on the message asking for a reading summary. I was a finance student at Ohio State University’s regional campus, good grades, but no connections, no money for prep courses, no way to stand out to top business schools. I’d known since childhood that studying was the only way out of the cycle of poverty. After five grueling hours, I finished reading last week’s business reports, cross-referenced a lot of historical data, and wrote a summary, tight, logical, and full of insights I’d gleaned from my late-night study sessions. After checking the grammar, I sent the document. [Sorry, I had tonsil surgery these past two days, so my reply is late.] Fifteen minutes later, he replied: [You wrote the report yourself?] My heart clenched: [Yes.] …A long silence followed. I stared at the screen, my palms sweating. Had I messed up? Was it too good, too obvious that I wasn’t Tiffany? Then, a Zelle notification popped up on the screen. $50,000. [The entry point is quite novel. Much better than the previous empty rhetoric. This is a reward.] [Rest well since you’re sick. Goodnight.] Tiffany’s “cheap old man” just gave me fifty thousand dollars?! I stared at the zeroes, my fingers trembling uncontrollably. That was more money than my mom made in a year. The comments immediately turned sour: [OMG, the female sidekick has such good luck, getting fifty grand for a lousy summary?] [Julian valued Tiffany’s potential. Serena is just getting lucky, mooching off the female lead!] [Take it, take it. The more you take now, the worse you’ll die later. Gold diggers never have a good ending.] I gritted my teeth and sent the money back. This wasn’t about cash, it was about opportunity. I couldn’t blow it by looking greedy. J.Y. sent a question mark: [Not enough?] [No, no, it’s not that. It’s just that more than money, I want an opportunity.] [I want to apply to business school. I don’t have a good mentor or access to industry data.] […Can I greedy and ask to borrow a high-level terminal account from you?] After sending the message, it was like a stone dropped into the ocean. Half an hour passed, no activity. I stared at the screen, a layer of cold sweat forming on my palms. The comments went into full-on mockery mode: [Crashed and burned, huh? Acting all high and mighty, now you can’t even get fifty grand!] [What level of titan is Julian? He can’t see through this kind of trick?] [Exactly, an ordinary small-town student wanting to go to Wharton. Does she think Julian is running a charity?] Just as I thought I had overplayed my hand and ruined this path, my phone rang. It was an unknown number with a California area code. [Send me your detailed information.] His voice was deep, calm, and authoritative, no hint of anger. I immediately sent the materials I had already prepared: my transcript (4.0 GPA), my scores on the GMAT practice tests, and the results of a local business case competition I’d won last year. I omitted personal details, my mom’s job, my cramped apartment, the four part-time jobs, only focusing on what mattered: my potential. The next day, I received a call from an unknown number. “Hello, this is Mr. Lin, Mr. Yan’s executive assistant.” The voice on the other end was strictly business, no warmth. “The boss asked me to meet you to assess your situation. Are you free this afternoon? I’m in Columbus for a meeting.” I suppressed my excitement and calmly replied, “Yes, you name the place.” 2 That afternoon, I dug out my only clean blazer, thrifted, but well-maintained, and a plain white blouse, and arrived at Mr. Lin’s hotel conference room right on time. He was a sharp-dressed man in his forties, with a clipboard and a no-nonsense expression. He scrutinized me, a hint of surprise flashing in his eyes, probably not expecting the “stand-in” to look so… ordinary. The comments appeared on cue, mocking me: [The small-town bumpkin really overestimates herself, showing up to meet Mr. Lin dressed like a intern.] [He’s Julian’s right-hand man, he’ll definitely see through this woman’s fake identity at a glance.] My palms were slightly sweaty; I thought I was about to be exposed. To my surprise, he simply flipped through the documents I’d sent and didn’t delve into my identity at all. “The boss believes you have some foundation, but you’re still quite far from the requirements of a top-tier university, Wharton, Stanford, MIT. Your GMAT scores are good, but not great, and your industry experience is nonexistent.” I nodded, leaning forward slightly. “It’s precisely because there’s a gap that I need guidance. As long as I’m given the resources, I can definitely make up for it. I’m a fast learner, I always have been.” “The boss’s resources are not given out casually.” Mr. Lin closed the file, his tone firm. “He can provide you with access to his industry terminal, a personal tutor team (all Ivy League graduates), and even a stipend so you can quit your part-time jobs and focus on studying.” “The prerequisite is that you must absolutely follow instructions and complete all assessment targets. No slacking, no excuses. The boss doesn’t tolerate laziness.” “I’m willing!” I replied without a second thought. Quit my part-time jobs? Focus solely on studying? It sounded like a dream. He nodded. “Then from today onwards, your schedule and study plan will be fully managed by us. A car will pick you up tomorrow morning, you’re moving out of the dorm.” 3 Three days later, I moved out of the cramped dorm and into a penthouse suite in a luxury hotel in downtown Columbus. It had floor-to-ceiling windows, a wall of bookshelves filled with business and finance books, a top-of-the-line laptop, and three private tutors, two for GMAT prep, one for business case analysis, on standby. No frills, no distractions, just everything I needed to succeed. Every morning at 6 AM, I woke up to listen to CNBC and Bloomberg reports (in English, of course). At 8 AM, I began intensive GMAT training, quantitative reasoning, verbal, analytical writing. Afternoons were spent on high-intensity case studies, dissecting real-world deals from Silicon Valley and Wall Street. In the evenings, I had to report my daily learning progress to Julian without fail, sending him my notes and practice scores. His replies were always concise. Sometimes just “Read,” other times a lengthy criticism cutting straight to the point: [Your analysis of the Tesla-Maxwell merger is shallow, you missed the regulatory risks in the EU. Go back and research the EU’s antitrust laws and rewrite it by tomorrow morning.] He truly was like a strict dean, using high-pressure methods to reshape my thinking. The cold words on the screen, far from making me feel wronged, sparked a surge of excitement. Was this the world of the powerful? No gentle coddling, only results. And I was determined to deliver. One morning, Julian sent me a message. [Great progress recently. You have half a day off today. Go do something that isn’t studying.] I was praised! My lips couldn’t help but curl upwards. I hadn’t had a day off in weeks, I decided to go back to campus to pick up some of my things from the dorm and say goodbye to my few friends. As I pushed open the dorm room door, I bumped into Tiffany. She was dressed in a designer dress, clutching a Louis Vuitton handbag, her hair done professionally. She was with a group of sorority sisters, all laughing and gossiping. She scrutinized my plain jeans and white T-shirt and scoffed. “Oh, the super student deigns to return? What, did that old man dump you already? I told you he was cheap, three grand a month can’t even buy a single shoe from my new collection.” “No, he’s been helping me with my studies recently.” I told the truth, not wanting to brag or argue. “Helping with studies? Hahahaha…” She laughed loudly, drawing the attention of her friends. “Serena, are you out of your mind? Some random online guy who can’t even afford a decent gift, and you expect him to teach you anything? Teach you how to survive on ramen noodles and part-time jobs?” She poked the GMAT prep book in my hand with her newly manicured nails. “Andrew Vanderbilt is going to be the vice president of his family’s real estate company next month. He promised to get me a cushy job in marketing, no degree required. I advise you to be more realistic, Serena. A woman doing well is not as good as marrying well. What’s the point of holding onto these useless books every day? You’ll still end up working for people like me, slaving away for a paycheck.” I avoided her hand and said calmly, “To each their own. Three thousand is fine, and working is fine too.” I hoped to “suffer” this kind of hardship my whole life, hardship that led to progress, not stagnation. As expected, with the appearance of the “female lead,” the comments became active again: [If Tiffany knew she gave up a billionaire, she’d probably be kicking herself!] [Is this really the female lead? Why does she look so smug, more like a gold-digger than the sidekick? I’m low-key excited to see her face when Julian returns!] [Shut up, traitor above! The male lead has always belonged to the female lead, okay? Be sensible!] [Just wait and see, the male lead will take back all the resources, and Serena will be back to working four jobs. Serves her right!] I ignored the comments and walked away with my books. My brain couldn’t be taken back, could it? The knowledge I’d gained, the skills I’d learned, those were mine forever. Over the next two months, my progress was visible to the naked eye. My GMAT scores jumped 100 points, my case analyses grew sharper, and I even started contributing ideas to the industry reports Julian sent me. His attitude towards me also subtly changed. He no longer just issued instructions unilaterally. Occasionally, in the early hours (he was often in Asia for business), he would send a few casual photos, sunrise over Shanghai, a street food stall in Tokyo, a view of the Hong Kong skyline, with a short caption: [Tasted this dumpling today. You’d like it.] 4 But late one night, after reviewing my case notes on a tech startup, he suddenly sent a message. [Serena, your writing style has changed recently. It’s more rational and calm than before.] My heart leaped. He noticed. The comments began to celebrate wildly: [Julian is suspicious! The big reveal is coming soon!] [Serena, your storm is coming. Get ready to be kicked out and humiliated…] I steadied my breath, my fingertips flying across the keyboard: [You can take that as a compliment, you know. People always have to learn to grow. Right now, I just want to improve, for myself, and to live up to the trust you’ve given me.] After the message was sent, a long time passed before Julian sent a voice message. It was the first time I’d heard his voice, deep, magnetic, with a hint of discernible pleasure, like he was smiling as he spoke. “Very good. Keep that ambition and drive. It’s rare.” “I’ll be back in the States mid-next month to host a private business dinner in New York. You’ll attend as my companion. It’s time for your assessment, show me what you’ve learned.” Listening to the voice message, my fingers tightened. This day had finally arrived. The moment of truth, the chance to prove I wasn’t just a stand-in, but someone worthy of his investment. [Big scene alert! The love triangle is here, finally!] [Tiffany will definitely be there, she’s dating Andrew Vanderbilt, whose family is part of the New York elite. The real and fake online girlfriends are about to meet. This is going to be epic!] [According to the plot, Julian will expose Serena that night, throw her out of the banquet, and then go beg Tiffany to take him back. Classic!] Seeing those glaring words, I secretly clenched my fist. I had been studying and writing notes day and night, not to be a stepping stone for Tiffany. I was going to ace this assessment, no matter what. 5 Mr. Lin sent someone with an evening gown a day in advance, sleek, black, and elegant, not too flashy, and a fifty-page guest list. The names read like a who’s who of Wall Street and Silicon Valley: CEOs, venture capitalists, hedge fund managers, even a few celebrities. “The core assets and recent major investment intentions of tonight’s distinguished guests are all here.” Mr. Lin’s voice was serious over the phone. “The boss doesn’t need a pretty face to fill space. You need to memorize the information of the top ten core figures, their net worth, their company’s latest moves, their weaknesses. Remember, all of it. You’ll be expected to contribute to conversations, not just stand there and look pretty.” I didn’t dare to slack off, spending the entire night memorizing the list backward and forward. Not only that, but I also used the terminal account Julian had given me to dig up the recent financial reports of the ten titans’ companies, looking for insights and talking points. Whatever the outcome of the “reveal,” I had to be worthy of the resources he had invested in me. I owed him that much. In the evening, the car dropped me off in front of a sprawling mansion in the Hamptons. The air was filled with the scent of champagne and cigars, and guests conversed in hushed tones, seeming casual, but every word was a power play, every smile a strategic move. A single offhand comment could involve billions of dollars in financial flow. I picked up a glass of sparkling water (I didn’t drink alcohol, not wanting to cloud my judgment) and stayed in a quiet corner, silently matching the faces in the room with the information I had memorized the night before. I recognized a few faces from business magazines, Warren Buffett’s protégé, the CEO of Apple, the founder of a major hedge fund. My heart raced, but I forced myself to stay calm. Suddenly, a familiar female voice broke the silence. “Serena? What are you doing here?” I turned my head, unsurprised to see Tiffany. She was clinging to a tall, slick-haired young man, Andrew Vanderbilt, no doubt, staring at me in astonishment. She was wearing a bright pink gown, her neck covered in diamonds, clearly trying to stand out. “This is a top-tier business dinner. How did a poor student like you get in?” She sneered, leaning in like she was sharing a secret. “Don’t tell me you hooked up with a waiter and snuck in through the back door? That’s pathetic, even for you.” The comments floated across my vision right on time: [Tiffany’s words are rude, but she’s right. Serena only got in by deceiving Julian. She doesn’t belong here.] [Waiting for Julian to walk in and publicly expose her, this is going to be so satisfying!] [Popcorn’s ready, let the show begin!] I glanced at Tiffany, not bothering to reply, and focused my gaze on Andrew beside her. “Mr. Vanderbilt, your family’s real estate company was just cited for code violations in Chicago last quarter, and your main lender is threatening to recall the loan, correct?” Andrew had been observing me with a frivolous, dismissive look. Hearing my words, his face changed dramatically, from cocky to pale. I smiled slightly. “You’re not trying to fix this crisis, instead, you’re here, showing off your date and wasting time. Your grandfather must be proud.” “You… who are you? How do you know all this?!” His voice was already trembling slightly. These matters had been kept quiet, if they spread in this setting, it would ruin his family’s reputation and possibly cost them the loan. “If I were you, I’d immediately go talk to Mr. Carter from JPMorgan.” I nodded towards a gray-haired man across the room. “He has a sum of idle funds right now that he’s looking to invest in real estate. A few kind words from you might be enough to save your family’s company, instead of asking meaningless questions.” Andrew looked in the direction I pointed, his face a mixture of green and white. Finally, he glared fiercely at Tiffany. “Didn’t you say she was a bookworm who only knew how to study? How does she know more about the industry than I do!” He flung Tiffany’s hand away and hurried towards Mr. Carter, his pride forgotten. “Andrew! Where are you going?!” Tiffany stomped her foot in anger, glaring at me, gnashing her teeth. “What on earth are you doing? Do you think reading a few financial articles makes you a big shot in this circle? You’re still just a poor, small-town nobody!” I ignored her exasperation. A commotion at the front of the hall caught my attention. The large doors were pushed open from outside, and the banquet hall immediately fell silent. All eyes turned to the entrance. A tall man walked in, his facial features sharp and distinct, high cheekbones, a strong jaw, dark eyes that seemed to see everything. He was dressed in a tailored black suit, no tie, exuding an air of quiet power. He merely nodded in response to everyone’s greetings, and the entire atmosphere changed with his presence. Whispers broke out: “That’s Julian Yan.” “He’s even more handsome in person.” “I heard he just closed a $2 billion deal in Asia.” Julian Yan had arrived.

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When the CEO laid eyes on my resignation letter, he summoned me into his office. His face was etched with confusion as he asked me why I was still dissatisfied, pointing out that I had just received a year-end bonus of six hundred thousand dollars. I stared back at him expressionlessly, telling him there was actually only six hundred dollars left in my account. A scowl creased the CEO’s brow as he immediately called the Director of Finance on speakerphone right in front of me. A sycophantic voice came through the line, explaining that five hundred ninety-nine thousand, four hundred dollars had been transferred to the CEO’s wife’s account, and that he had covered his tracks perfectly. The CEO’s face turned a sickly shade of green in an instant. 1 When Dominic called me into his office, my resignation letter was already sitting on his massive mahogany desk. He tapped his index finger against the heavy paper. His eyes shifted from the document to my face, clouded with genuine confusion. “Scarlett, didn’t the year-end bonuses just go out? Six hundred thousand dollars. You got the highest payout in the entire company.” “What exactly are you dissatisfied with?” I stood perfectly straight, keeping my eyes locked on his. “Six hundred thousand?” “There are exactly six hundred dollars in my account.” The confusion on Dominic’s face instantly warped into a deep, aggressive scowl. He snatched his phone off the desk and dialed the Director of Finance. The moment the call connected, Dominic hit the speaker button. Richard’s signature sycophantic voice immediately echoed through the quiet office. “Mr. Reed, rest assured. It is all handled.” “That five hundred ninety-nine thousand, four hundred dollars has been transferred directly into your wife’s private account, down to the exact cent.” “I made sure the books are squeaky clean. Completely untraceable.” The air in the office turned to solid concrete. I watched Dominic’s face transition from bewildered, to horrified, and finally to a sickly, ashen green. On the other end of the line, Richard kept talking, completely oblivious. “Honestly, sir, your wife had a great point.” “She said a young girl like Scarlett might get reckless with that kind of cash. Having the company ‘safeguard’ the bulk of it is really for her own good.” “It was a brilliant move, don’t you think?” “Shut up.” Dominic forced the two words through his teeth. His voice dripped with absolute zero temperatures. He slammed his finger onto the end-call button. The office plunged back into a suffocating silence. I remained standing there, my expression completely blank, as if I were watching a movie that had nothing to do with me. The truth was, I was waiting. Waiting for Dominic to give me an explanation. Or rather, waiting for him to justify this absolute trainwreck to himself. His chest heaved. He was practically vibrating with rage. It took him a full thirty seconds to look up at me. The usually sharp, composed eyes of the CEO were currently caught in a violent storm. He wasn’t just looking at me. He was looking right through me, realizing something incredibly ugly about his own life. “When did you find out?” he asked. His voice sounded like cracked glass. “When the bank notification popped up on my lock screen,” I replied. My tone was flat. “Six hundred bucks.” “At first, I thought payroll had a glitch in the software.” “So, I pulled up my official pay stub.” “It clearly stated my year-end bonus was six hundred thousand dollars.” Dominic squeezed his eyes shut, fighting a losing battle to keep his composure. “And your first instinct was to just quit?” “Yes.” “Without even asking me about it?” A hint of accusation bled into his tone. “Mr. Reed.” I finally used his formal title. “I have bled for Apex Tech for five years.” “I climbed from an intern to the Director of Operations. I know for a fact that I have earned every single penny this company has ever paid me.” “I trusted the corporate structure here. I trusted you.” “But I do not trust a financial department that can magically turn a six-hundred-grand bonus into six hundred dollars.” “That is not a glitch.” “That is an insult.” I spoke calmly. No tears. No screaming. Just cold, hard facts. Dominic fell silent. He knew damn well it wasn’t a glitch. Richard had spelled it out perfectly on the speakerphone. Transferred to your wife’s account. He just didn’t want to believe it. He couldn’t fathom that the elegant, highly educated, picture-perfect woman he married would go behind his back to pull off something so incredibly cheap. Stealing an employee’s bonus? A massive six-figure sum? That wasn’t just simple greed. That was actively taking a sledgehammer to the foundation of his company. He took a deep breath and picked up his phone again. This time, his thumb hovered over the screen. He hesitated. I knew exactly who he was about to call. Victoria. His wife. I watched him quietly. I didn’t rush him. I didn’t interrupt. He had to rip this band-aid off himself. Finally, his jaw tightened, and he pressed the call button. Speakerphone again. The phone rang twice before connecting. A voice sweet enough to cause cavities drifted out of the speaker. “Hey honey. You’re calling early today. Miss me already?” It was Victoria. I lowered my gaze, hiding the ice in my eyes. This was the exact same voice that had called me just a few days ago, hissing: “Scarlett, don’t push your luck. Dominic pays you to be a worker bee, not to bleed him dry. That six hundred dollars is your phone stipend for the month. Learn your place.” Dominic swallowed hard. “Vic,” he started, his vocal cords tight. “I need to ask you something.” “Ask away, babe. What’s going on?” She sounded genuinely cheerful. “What happened to Scarlett’s year-end bonus?” He articulated every single syllable. There was a microsecond of dead silence on the other end of the line. It was incredibly brief. Almost imperceptible. But both Dominic and I caught it. 2 “Scarlett?” Victoria’s voice chimed back in. She had dialed up the innocent confusion to an award-winning level. “Her bonus? How would I know anything about that? Honey, you know I never interfere with your corporate stuff.” Her voice was soft, but it wrapped around Dominic’s nerves like a venomous snake. I noticed Dominic’s knuckles turning bone-white as he gripped his phone. “Richard just told me he wired a massive sum of money into your private account.” Dominic’s voice was dropping an octave, desperately trying to hold onto his dignity. “Money? Oh…” Victoria dragged out the vowel, pretending to search her memory. “Right, I remember now! Richard did wire me some funds. He mentioned the company had some tricky off-the-books accounting to deal with, and he just needed to park the cash in my account temporarily for liquidity.” “Don’t worry, honey. I’ve got it tucked away safe and sound.” “Does the company need it back right now? I can wire it over immediately.” It was a flawless performance. Bulletproof. She painted herself as the ultimate supportive wife, quietly handling her husband’s dirty corporate laundry behind the scenes. If Dominic hadn’t just heard Richard groveling on speakerphone five minutes ago, he probably would have bought the lie. But right now, her sweet words sounded like nails on a chalkboard. “Tricky off-the-books accounting?” Dominic repeated her words, the sarcasm practically dripping onto the desk. “Victoria, do you honestly think I am an idiot?” The venom in his tone clearly shocked her. “Honey? What is wrong with you? Why are you talking to me like this?” She expertly pivoted to playing the victim. “Is… is Scarlett in the room with you?” She suddenly switched targets, aiming straight for my throat. “Babe, do not listen to a word that manipulative bitch says! You know exactly what she’s trying to do!” “She is just a pretty young subordinate who constantly flaunts herself in your office. She’s desperate to sleep her way to the top!” “Did she come crying to you? Saying I bullied her?” “I swear to God, Dominic! I know how hard it is for a young girl to make it in the city. I’ve always gone out of my way to look out for her. How could she invent such disgusting lies about me?” Victoria’s voice escalated into a hysterical, tearful pitch. Her ability to completely rewrite reality made the air in the office feel toxic. Dominic looked physically ill. He stared at me, his eyes swirling with a chaotic mess of emotions. Anger. Doubt. The sheer agony of being betrayed by his own family. I knew exactly what was happening in his head. He was caught in a psychological meat grinder. On one side: his top executive, the woman who had single-handedly secured millions in revenue for his firm. On the other side: the woman who shared his bed. Human nature dictates that people want to believe the ones they sleep next to. Subconsciously, he was trying to find a way to make Victoria the victim and me the homewrecker. It was the oldest, cheapest trick in the corporate playbook. The “jealous wife claiming the female employee is a homewrecker” card. It was practically unblockable. “Put Scarlett on the phone. Now.” Victoria snapped an order through the speaker. The sweet wife routine was gone; she was now demanding obedience like royalty. Dominic shot me a look, silently asking what I wanted to do. I didn’t move a muscle. I just looked back at him. Then, I slowly shook my head. Argue with her? Not a chance. It would just devolve into a screaming match, and I refused to drag myself down to her level of the gutter. “Mr. Reed,” I said. My voice wasn’t loud, but it cut through the noise perfectly. “It seems this is a domestic dispute.” “Since that is the case, please process my resignation.” “As for my stolen compensation, my lawyers will be in touch with your legal department by tomorrow morning.” I turned on my heel and headed for the door. My goal was already accomplished. The grenade had been dropped right in Dominic’s lap. How he dealt with his wife was his problem. All I cared about was getting my cash and getting out. “Stop right there!” Dominic barked from behind his desk. I stopped walking but didn’t bother turning around. “Nobody leaves this room until we get to the bottom of this!” His voice was a desperate, commanding bark. I slowly turned around, meeting his gaze with absolute ice. “What else is there to discuss, Mr. Reed?” “Do you seriously think she is lying about you?” He pointed at the phone, his chest heaving. “You already know what the truth is,” I replied. “I need proof!” Dominic’s eyes were bloodshot. “Scarlett, I know how you operate. You are surgical. You wouldn’t walk in here and drop a resignation letter on my desk with nothing but a bank screenshot!” “Give me the smoking gun. Give me something that forces me to believe you!” He was practically begging. He was cornering me, but more importantly, he was cornering himself. He needed me to hand him the sledgehammer that would finally shatter his delusions about his marriage. Watching a powerful man break down like this didn’t make me feel an ounce of pity. I reached into my designer tote bag and pulled out a secondary device. It was a cheap, prepaid burner phone I strictly used for two-factor authentication codes. I hit a single button on the keypad. A crystal-clear audio recording blasted through the phone’s tiny speaker. It was Victoria. But the sweet, innocent tone was completely absent. She sounded vicious, arrogant, and cruel. “Let’s get one thing straight, Scarlett.” “My husband’s company is my company. I decide who gets paid and who gets starved.” “Six hundred thousand dollars? For you? Don’t make me laugh.” “You are nothing but a dog on Dominic’s leash. I am tossing you a six-hundred-dollar bone. You should be wagging your tail and thanking me.” The recording bounced off the glass walls of the office. The desperate hope on Dominic’s face died instantly. He looked like a corpse. On the speakerphone, Victoria’s fake crying abruptly stopped. She had heard it too. 3 “Scarlett! You little bitch! You recorded me?!” Victoria’s shrill, panicked scream exploded from the desk phone. Her mask had completely melted off, exposing the ugly, raving lunatic underneath. Dominic looked like someone had just severed his spine. He swayed on his feet and braced both hands against the edge of his desk just to stay upright. He stared blankly at the burner phone in my hand. His lips trembled, but no sound came out. The audio file kept playing. My own voice, calm and detached, echoed in the room. “Victoria, that bonus is legally contracted compensation for my labor. You have zero legal authority to withhold it.” Then came Victoria’s mocking laughter. “Legal? In this building, I am the law! One word from me, and not only do you lose your money, but you get blacklisted from the entire tech sector!” “Don’t flatter yourself just because you closed a few deals for my husband. To him, you are just a replaceable cog in a machine.” “Take your six hundred bucks and get out. If you try to make a scene, I will personally ruin you.” “I will make sure the entire industry thinks you are a gold-digging slut who tried to sleep her way into the C-suite and got fired for it.” The recording clicked off. The office fell into a graveyard silence. The only sound was the heavy, frantic static of Victoria’s breathing coming through the speakerphone. I slipped the burner phone back into my bag without breaking eye contact with Dominic. All the color had drained from his face. Pain, humiliation, rage, and the devastating realization of ultimate betrayal violently clashed in his eyes. In the end, it all settled into a bottomless, hollow exhaustion. He aged a decade in sixty seconds. His own wife had used the most vile, venomous language imaginable to degrade his most valuable executive. She hadn’t just stolen the money. She had weaponized his name, acting like a tyrant, treating the very foundation of his company like dirt beneath her designer heels. Replaceable cogs. A dog on a leash. Hearing those words spoken in his wife’s voice was the ultimate slap in the face. “Dominic… babe… please let me explain… it’s not what you think…” Victoria finally found her voice again. She was stammering, desperate. “She… she provoked me! She insulted me first! That audio is edited! It’s a deepfake!” Her lies were so pathetic they were almost insulting. Dominic slowly reached out. He picked up the desk phone and pressed it to his ear. His movements were sluggish, like he was moving underwater. “Victoria.” His voice was wrecked. It sounded like he had swallowed broken glass. “When we got married, I handed you an unlimited black card. I told you to buy whatever you wanted. No limits.” “I told you the wife of the CEO of Apex Tech should never have to look at a price tag.” “I give you an eight-figure allowance every single year.” “So tell me. Why the hell did you need to steal six hundred grand from Scarlett?” Every word struck like a hammer blow. It hit Victoria. And it hit me. She wasn’t hurting for cash. She didn’t need the money. She did this for the power. She did it for the twisted, sociopathic thrill of holding someone’s livelihood hostage. She wanted to prove that my entire career, my entire existence, meant absolutely nothing compared to her status. Victoria was completely speechless. “I… I just wanted to put her in her place…” she whispered, resorting to her final, desperate defense. “People were talking, Dominic. They said she was getting too much credit. That she didn’t respect you anymore. I just wanted to break her ego a little bit, so she wouldn’t become a threat to you…” “Heh.” A short, brutal laugh escaped Dominic’s throat. “Break her ego?” “You target my core Director of Operations, you cut off the right arm of my company, and you expect me to believe you did it for my benefit?” “Victoria. You absolutely disgust me.” He didn’t give her another second to speak. He slammed the phone down onto the receiver. He slowly lifted his head. His eyes were completely bloodshot. “I am sorry.” He forced the words out. “This is my failure.” “I failed to manage my own house, and you suffered for it.” I didn’t respond. I just looked at him. An apology? What was the point? The damage was done. The second trust shatters in the corporate world, you can never glue it back together. “I will wire you the missing funds immediately.” Dominic swallowed hard. “I am also adding another six hundred thousand as an inconvenience bonus.” “Richard is fired. I am turning him over to the feds by the end of the day.” “As for Victoria…” He paused. A muscle jumped in his jaw. “I will make sure you get justice there, too.” “Scarlett. Please. For the sake of the last five years…” “Don’t leave.” He finally laid his cards on the table. The apologies, the double bonus, the firing of the CFO. It was all a desperate bid to keep me in the building. The massive enterprise software contract I had just secured was entering its critical execution phase next month. I built that deal from the ground up. I knew where all the bodies were buried. If I walked out that door, a multi-billion-dollar project would crash and burn. That was what he actually cared about. I looked at the desperate plea in his eyes and slowly shook my head. “It’s too late, Dominic.” My heart was ice cold. Staying in this building for even one more second made my skin crawl. “The resignation stands.” “I won’t be logging on tomorrow.” My tone was absolute. Zero room for negotiation. The last remaining drops of color vanished from Dominic’s face. He knew he had lost me. His wife had personally taken his sharpest weapon and snapped it over her knee. I turned around, opened the heavy glass door, and walked out. Behind me, Dominic slumped heavily into his leather chair, surrounded by the wreckage of his pride. I didn’t look back. The moment I stepped out of the Apex Tech high-rise, the California sun hit my face. I took a deep breath. I felt incredibly light. My phone buzzed in my pocket. A banking notification. Incoming wire transfer to account ending in 3945: $1,200,000.00. Available Balance: $1,200,600.00. The money was there. My original bonus, plus the penalty fee. Dominic moved fast. But I knew exactly what this was. It wasn’t just compensation. It was hush money. He was terrified I would leak the audio to the press, tank the company’s stock, and turn his marriage into a tabloid circus. I smirked and swiped the notification away. He thought cash could fix everything. But he was about to learn that there are some things a wire transfer cannot buy. Like loyalty. Or what I was about to do next. 4 I didn’t go home. I hailed a black car and gave the driver an address in the financial district. We pulled up to a massive, imposing limestone building. It didn’t have the sleek, modern glass aesthetic of Apex Tech. It screamed old money and ruthless power. A heavy brass plaque by the entrance read: Reed Holdings. Reed Holdings was the parent conglomerate of Apex Tech. It was the absolute core of the Reed family empire. Dominic’s father, Tony Reed, the legendary tycoon who built the empire from scratch, had technically retired. But his private office was still on the top floor. I walked into the grand lobby. The concierge immediately stood up. “Ms. Scarlett. Mr. Reed is expecting you.” I nodded and bypassed security, heading straight for the private executive elevator. Half an hour ago, while riding away from Apex Tech, I had called Tony’s chief of staff. I told him I had a catastrophic operational risk to report regarding Apex Tech, and I needed five minutes with the Chairman. I got my confirmation in less than three minutes. The elevator doors slid open to a dark wood-paneled executive suite. Tony Reed sat behind a massive desk, nursing a glass of neat bourbon. He was in his late sixties, with silver hair and eyes like a hawk evaluating its prey. “Have a seat, Scarlett.” He gestured to the leather chair across from him. His tone was perfectly level. I sat down and rested my bag on my lap. “Tony,” I started. “You mentioned a catastrophic risk,” he said, taking a slow sip. “Let me guess. My son screwed up again?” He used the word again. Clearly, Dominic’s management style was not a secret to his father. I didn’t answer with words. I opened my bag and placed three items on the pristine desk. First, my bank statement, with the $600 deposit circled in red ink. Second, the cheap burner phone. Third, a freshly printed screenshot of the $1.2 million wire transfer I had received twenty minutes ago. I slid them across the polished wood. “Tony. This is a fatal flaw in Apex Tech’s financial security.” “This is a total breakdown of executive management.” “And this,” I tapped the printout of the $1.2 million transfer, “is your son attempting to use corporate funds as a golden parachute to bury his wife’s crimes.” I didn’t sugarcoat a single syllable. I didn’t mention Victoria by name. I didn’t frame it as a domestic issue. I stripped all emotion out of it. I framed it purely as a corporate liability. A financial disaster. Because when you are talking to a titan like Tony Reed, the only language that matters is leverage and risk. Tony’s hawk-like eyes scanned the three items. He picked up the bank statement first, his brow furrowing slightly. Then, he picked up the burner phone. I leaned forward and pressed play. Victoria’s vicious rant echoed in the quiet, opulent office. “…You are nothing but a dog on Dominic’s leash…” When the recording hit that specific line, the temperature in the room dropped ten degrees. Tony wasn’t angry that Victoria was a bitch. He was furious that someone had the audacity to refer to the core intellectual capital of his empire as a dog. That kind of arrogance destroys empires. When the audio finished, he remained silent. Finally, he picked up the screenshot of the wire transfer. “One point two million,” Tony murmured. “He paid what he owed, and he doubled it as an apology. Dominic isn’t entirely cheap.” “Tony, this isn’t about him being generous.” I corrected him without hesitation. “It is about him being compromised.” “He thinks throwing cash at a problem makes it disappear. But the money isn’t the root issue.” “The issue is that your Chief Financial Officer is willing to launder a million dollars to appease the CEO’s wife.” “The issue is that an executive’s spouse holds enough unchecked power to fire, starve, and blacklist your most vital personnel.” “Today, this happened to me. Tomorrow, it happens to the lead developers. Next week, it happens to the VP of Sales.” “When a corporate hierarchy can be hijacked by a spouse’s temper tantrum, that company is dead in the water.” My words were heavy artillery. Tony went dead silent. He looked at me, really looked at me. The predatory gleam in his eyes softened into something resembling genuine respect. He set his bourbon glass down. “You are a very smart girl.” His voice was a low rumble. “Much sharper than my son, who currently has his head shoved entirely up his own ass.” “I understand the situation.” He gave me his word. “I built Apex with my own bare hands. I will not watch it be cannibalized from the inside.” “I don’t care whose name is on the marriage certificate.” His words were spoken softly, but they carried the weight of an executioner’s axe. I knew I had won. I stood up, smoothing out my skirt. “Tony, my resignation is already filed. As of noon today, I no longer work for Apex Tech.” “Thank you for your time.” I gave him a crisp nod and turned toward the elevator. “Hold on a second.” Tony’s voice stopped me. “What’s your next move?” he asked. “Take some time off. See what the market looks like,” I replied honestly. “Right,” he nodded slowly. “You’ve earned a break. It’s been a hell of a run these last five years.” “Save my direct line in your contacts. When you get bored of sitting on a beach, call me.” “There will always be a seat for you at Reed Holdings.” That was a massive, unexpected victory. But I kept my face totally neutral. “Thank you, Tony.” I walked onto the elevator. The moment the doors slid shut and I was back on the street, I finally let out a long, heavy exhale. The fuse was lit. The explosion was now strictly Reed family business. And I was safely outside the blast radius. 5 When Dominic walked through the front door of his sprawling estate, the house was dead quiet. Victoria was sitting on the velvet sofa in the main living room, wearing a silk robe. A half-empty glass of red wine sat on the coffee table. She was clearly waiting for him. The second he walked in, she sprang up. Her face was a mask of panic and victimhood. “Dom, baby, you’re home… Please, you have to let me explain. It’s really not what it sounded like…” Dominic completely ignored her. He walked over to the adjacent armchair, slowly slipped off his tailored suit jacket, and tossed it aside. He undid his tie with slow, mechanical precision. Every movement was heavy, deliberate, and suffocating. Victoria felt the panic rising in her throat. “Say something, please… you’re scaring me…” She reached out to grab his forearm. Dominic took a sharp step back, dodging her touch like she was contagious. His eyes were completely hollow as he stared at her. “What is left to explain?” His voice was terrifyingly calm. “Explain how you conspired with Richard to siphon company payroll into your private accounts?” “Or maybe explain how you weaponized my name to threaten and humiliate my best executive?” “Victoria, I had no idea you were such a brilliant criminal.” The words sliced into her like a scalpel. All the color drained from Victoria’s face. “I… I wasn’t trying to steal! I just made a stupid mistake!” She burst into tears, large drops rolling perfectly down her cheeks. “I was jealous! Okay? I was so incredibly jealous! She gets to spend all day with you. She solves your problems. Everyone in your inner circle talks about how you can’t run the business without her!” “I was terrified! I thought she was going to steal my husband!” “I just wanted to teach her a lesson. I wanted to remind her who the wife is! I swear to God, I wasn’t thinking!” She sobbed, playing the tragic role of a woman driven mad by love. A few years ago, that performance would have earned her a tight hug and a diamond necklace. Tonight, Dominic just watched her perform with absolute disgust. “Jealous?” He scoffed. “So your jealousy is worth exactly five hundred ninety-nine thousand, four hundred dollars?” “You wanted to prove you were the lady of the house, so you treated her like a stray dog?” “Drop the act, Victoria. It’s pathetic.” “I didn’t come home to listen to your excuses.” Dominic reached into his briefcase. He pulled out a thick stack of legal documents and dropped them onto the glass coffee table with a heavy thud. The bold, black letters across the top page were impossible to miss. PETITION FOR DISSOLUTION OF MARRIAGE. Victoria’s fake sobbing stopped instantly. She stared at the divorce papers, then looked up at Dominic in sheer horror. “A divorce? You want a divorce?” Her voice pitched up into a hysterical screech. “Over that bitch? Are you out of your mind?!” “We have been married for seven years! Seven years, Dominic! And you’re throwing me out over an employee?” “I am not crazy,” Dominic said, his expression completely dead. “You are.” “You can play your pathetic high-society games with anyone you want. But you touched the core of my business.” “You alienated every single person who bleeds for my company.” “You turned me into a joke who can’t even protect his own staff!” “This isn’t about another woman.” “This is about Apex. And it is about me.” Victoria’s facade totally crumbled. She stared at the cold, ruthless man in front of her and finally realized that tears weren’t going to save her. Her face twisted into something feral. “Fine! You want to play hardball, Dominic? Let’s play!” “You think dumping me is going to be cheap? Half of Apex Tech belongs to me! It is marital property!” “You want to kick me to the curb? I will drag you through court for years! I will take half your empire! I’ll leak this to the press and tank your stock overnight! I will leave you bankrupt!” She was screaming now, completely unhinged, revealing the sheer greed that had always lived beneath her skin. Dominic just watched her throw her tantrum. “Half the stock?” He let out a dark, mocking laugh, like he had just heard a joke. “Victoria, did you suffer a head injury? Have you forgotten the prenuptial agreement we signed?” “Every single share of Apex Tech is classified as a pre-marital asset. You don’t get a single penny of equity.” “As for the mansions, the sports cars, the jewelry… I’ve bought you tens of millions of dollars’ worth of toys over the last seven years.” “The contract states you get to keep all of that.” “I will also cut you a final severance check. You’ll never have to work a day in your life.” “Sign the papers. It is the last shred of dignity you’re going to get.” Victoria froze. The prenup. Of course she remembered it. When they signed it, Dominic had kissed her forehead and told her it was just standard legal red tape to keep his father’s lawyers happy. He told her not to worry about it. She had been so blinded by the glamorous wedding that she signed it without letting her own lawyer read it. She thought it was just a meaningless stack of paper. Tonight, that paper was a death warrant. He had been protecting his assets from her since day one. The unconditional love was a myth. “Dominic!” Victoria’s eyes were practically glowing with venom. “You set me up!” “I will never sign this! I would rather die! I will go to the tabloids! I will tell them everything! I will ruin your reputation!” Dominic looked at her with ultimate exhaustion. “Do whatever you want.” He turned around and headed for the front door, not looking back once. “But let me give you one final piece of advice.” He stopped with his hand on the doorknob. “Richard is already in federal custody.” “He rolled over immediately. He handed the feds a mountain of evidence proving you manipulated him into cooking the books and committing wire fraud.” “He also mentioned he kept meticulous ledgers on all the other little ‘investments’ you’ve been making behind my back using company leverage.” “Victoria. Unless you want to spend the next fifteen years wearing an orange jumpsuit in a federal penitentiary…” “You will sign those papers by tomorrow morning.” He opened the door and walked out into the night. The heavy oak door slammed shut behind him. Victoria collapsed onto the marble floor. She stared at the divorce papers, the absolute silence of the massive house crushing the last remaining breath out of her lungs.

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My son and I were in a car crash on our way to confront my husband. When we woke up, we couldn’t remember a thing. And my husband, a psychologist, left us to travel the world with his old flame and her daughter, both of whom he claimed were suffering from severe depression. Eventually, our memories started to return. He noticed that the amnesia had changed us. We were quieter, more compliant. Independent. At first, he seemed pleased with himself, confident that he had perfectly balanced his family and his obligations to his old flame. That lasted until New Year’s Eve. He spent the holiday with them, and when he finally came home, he overheard a conversation between my son and me through the front door. My son asked, “Mommy, is that man really my dad? It feels weird every time I have to call him that.” I nodded. “I know what you mean. He’s not my type at all. I have no idea why I ever married him.” My son’s eyes lit up. “Mommy, you like Mr. Reed, don’t you? Every time he sees you after school, his ears turn so red they look like they’re about to bleed. And he’s always making up excuses to drive us home… I think you’ve got a shot!” I blushed and was about to shush him when he leaned in close. He whispered in a voice he thought was quiet but was perfectly audible from the hallway, “Mommy… what if we just… got a new dad?” 1. For dinner, I’d ordered two servings of ghost pepper wings. My son and I were sweating profusely, our mouths on fire, when a familiar yet distant voice cut through the air from behind us. “You didn’t wait for me?” We both flinched. Turning around, we saw a handsome man standing in the doorway, a chill radiating from him that had nothing to do with the winter air. His features were a clear echo of our son’s. It was Alistair Finch. My husband. My son’s father. He stepped closer, his brow furrowing in disgust at the sight of our grease-stained mouths and the fiery wings on the table. “We’ve been married for six years. Don’t you know I have a stomach condition? I can’t eat anything spicy.” My son, Noah, still gnawing on a wing, mumbled, “We didn’t get them for you. These are for us.” Alistair froze. I forced a dry laugh, trying to smooth things over. “Well, I saw on your social feed that you were at the amusement park with Serena and her daughter. I just assumed you’d be eating with them…” “Nina,” he cut me off, his voice laced with its usual impatience. “I’ve explained this. Serena and her daughter were abandoned by her husband. They have severe depression. I’m their doctor. It’s my professional duty.” “And you?” he continued, his tone turning colder. “As a wife and a mother, not only did you cause a scene at my clinic, but you’ve taught Noah to be nothing but a jealous, petty child.” He paused, his voice dropping to an icy whisper. “Wasn’t the car crash enough to make you two learn your lesson?” The memories flooded back. I remembered the moment I found out his round-the-clock “patient care” was actually for his high school sweetheart. I’d taken Noah and stormed his clinic to confront him. He had pulled us into a corner, his face a mask of weary resignation. “This is exactly why I didn’t tell you. I’m a doctor, Nina. I can’t just abandon my patients. It’s irresponsible.” “Don’t you dare make a scene in front of them with our son.” His calm, clinical tone made Noah and me feel like a pair of hysterical lunatics. So, I’d hired people to hold up banners outside his clinic: “SERENA AND DAUGHTER SEDUCE MARRIED MAN.” Noah had taken a megaphone to kindergarten and chased her daughter, Poppy, around the playground, shouting, “Her mom’s a homewrecker! Don’t play with her!” After that, Serena and Poppy had a public breakdown, threatening to jump from a building. To force us to back down, Alistair got me fired from my job and made sure Noah was ostracized at school. I finally shattered, threatening divorce. He relented, promising to keep his distance from them. And we believed him. We even booked a trip for our five-year anniversary, counting down the days to his rare vacation. We went to pick him up from the clinic, hearts full of excitement, only to receive a single, cold phone call. “A last-minute work trip. We’ll have to postpone the vacation.” We left, heartbroken. But as we rounded the corner, we overheard his colleagues chatting and laughing. “Dr. Finch is really dedicated to that Ms. Serena, isn’t he? Taking a six-month leave of absence just to oversee their recovery therapy!” “I know! I heard they’re on their way to the airport right now. He’s personally escorting them.” A roaring filled my ears, and a raw, physical pain tore through my chest. Before the tears could fall, I saw Noah’s small, pale face looking up at me, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. His voice trembled. “Mommy… does Daddy… does he really not want us anymore?” That single question made my sanity crumble. I grabbed his hand and we ran, a desperate need for an answer propelling us forward. We had to know. Did he still want this family, or not? We never caught up to him. The car crash came first. When we woke up, the world was a blank slate. We only remembered each other. And he, in turn, simply let us be forgotten. The memories receded. Noah and I exchanged an awkward glance. The facts were back, but the feelings weren’t. We couldn’t even comprehend the hysterical people we used to be. We stammered out apologies and promised we would never bother them again. Alistair’s expression only darkened. After a long silence, he slipped back into his familiar role of the one in control. “I’m taking them to the national park for a therapy session tomorrow. I need you to pack a lunch for three.” “And Noah, I need you to prepare a second set of your class notes for Poppy.” He turned to leave, adding over his shoulder, “You’d be wise to keep your promise this time. No more… embarrassing behavior.” The door clicked shut. Noah and I looked at each other and shrugged in unison. Then, I pulled out my phone and ordered a deluxe catered lunch to be delivered to the park for three. Noah messaged his teacher and politely requested a digital copy of the class materials. As for tomorrow? We already had plans to go hiking with Mr. Reed. We didn’t have time to worry about them. 2. Early the next morning, Serena’s soft voice drifted from the living room. “Alistair, is it just going to be us? Maybe… maybe we should ask Nina and Noah to come? I’m worried they’ll get the wrong idea. It’s not about me, of course, but Poppy is so fragile…” Poppy’s small voice chimed in. “It’s okay, Mommy. I’m fine. Noah… he didn’t mean it.” Alistair’s tone was gentle. “It’s okay, Poppy. Don’t worry about it. If we bring them, there’s no telling what kind of scene they’ll make. It wouldn’t be good for your recovery.” I sighed, rolled over, and drifted back to sleep. The next time I opened my eyes, I was being dragged from my bed by a rough hand. Alistair was practically hauling me into the living room. “Look at what your perfect son has done!” he seethed, his voice a low growl. “Just look at what he did to Poppy!” Serena was cradling a trembling Poppy, who was covered in food stains, her eyes red from crying. My son was sitting amidst a mess of spilled food, his small hands clutching three lunch containers to his chest. His face was blotchy and red, and huge tears splashed onto the floor. “I didn’t push her!” he cried out. “She’s a thief! She stole the lunch Mommy made for me! I was just trying to get it back!” Alistair didn’t even glance at him. He was meticulously wiping Poppy’s face with a wet cloth, murmuring comforting words to Serena. Only after he was finished did he turn to me, a look of weary, I-told-you-so exhaustion in his eyes. “Nina, just because I asked you to make a couple of extra lunches, you had to stoop to this? Teaching your son to pull these kinds of disgusting stunts?” “You made a promise just last night. Did you forget already?” I took a deep breath, trying to remain patient. “I didn’t do anything, and I believe Noah is telling the truth. I put your lunches on the dining table. Maybe Poppy just grabbed the wrong ones by mistake…” “Enough,” Alistair snapped, his eyes dismissing me as if I were a terrible actress in a cheap play. “Stop the performance. I haven’t forgotten what you two are capable of. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. You need to take a long, hard look at yourself and figure out how to be a proper mother.” The words died in my throat. I remembered our agreement. We would each take a step back. As long as he kept his distance from Serena, we would be fine. After that, he did start coming home on time, reporting his every move. But if Poppy so much as scraped her knee at kindergarten, he would be the first one there, forcing Noah to apologize without even hearing his side of the story. When Noah tried to defend himself, Alistair would just stare at me coldly. “Nina, is your promise really that worthless? Stop this. Don’t exhaust all of my patience, all of my affection for you. If it comes to that, there will be nothing left for us to say.” The worst time, he had thrown the words at me like stones: “A son with a heart this black is no son of mine.” Noah was too young to bear such a thing. He had chased him out of the house, barefoot, his feet bleeding on the pavement, clinging to his father’s coat and confessing to crimes he never committed. “Daddy! I’m sorry! It was all my fault! I’ll never do it again! I’ll tell Poppy I’m sorry!” “Please don’t leave me and Mommy!” From that day on, my son never tried to defend himself again. I let out a soft sigh. What was the point of explaining? In his eyes, we were already convicted felons with a long history of offenses. I pulled Noah into my arms, my voice low and steady. “Noah, give them the lunchboxes.” His small body went rigid. Then, he scrubbed his face hard with the back of his hand, gave up the fight, and silently pushed the containers he’d been guarding so fiercely across the floor. Alistair didn’t look at us again. He bent down, scooped Poppy into his arms, and placed a steadying hand on Serena’s back, shielding them both as he turned and walked out the door. SLAM! The sound of the door was sharp and final, leaving the apartment in a dead, suffocating silence. It was just me and my son, surrounded by the mess on the floor. I quietly picked up a cloth and began to clean. Noah knelt down beside me, helping to pick up the scattered items. After a while, I asked softly, “Noah, if one day… Mommy and Daddy aren’t together anymore…” “Who would you want to live with?” I had asked him this once before, during the worst of our fights. He had sobbed his heart out then. “I don’t want you to split up! I want our family to be together forever!” But this time, he didn’t hesitate. He looked up at me, his eyes clear and certain. “I’ll stay with Mommy.” “No matter what happens, I’m with you, Mommy.” I looked at him, and a real smile spread across my face, the warmth of it melting away the last bit of ice in my heart. I ruffled his hair. “Okay.” Then there was nothing left to be afraid of. 3. Just as I wiped up the last of the mess, the doorbell rang. “Ms. Finch? Noah? Are you home?” Noah’s eyes lit up. “It’s Mr. Reed!” He scampered to the door and threw it open. Outside, a handsome young man with a kind face knelt down just in time to catch the small boy who launched himself into his arms. Seeing his red, swollen eyes, Mark Reed’s voice softened instantly. “What happened, Noah? Have you been crying?” The little guy buried his face in Mark’s shoulder and let out a muffled, heartbroken sob. “The lunch Mommy made… they took it…” “It’s okay,” Mark said, gently patting his back. “Mr. Reed made new ones. All of your and Mommy’s favorites.” He had a magic touch with kids. In a few sentences, Noah’s tears had turned to a watery smile. Mark finally looked up at me, a slightly apologetic smile on his face. “I’m sorry to intrude, Ms. Finch. You didn’t answer your phone, and I got a little worried.” “Please, don’t say that,” I said quickly. “You saved our lives, Mr. Reed. Call me Nina.” Six months ago, after the crash, it was Mark who had pulled us from the mangled car, running every red light to get us to the hospital. When he learned we had partial amnesia and our reflexes were slow, he took it upon himself to cook for us every day and handle Noah’s school drop-offs and pick-ups. Once our memories returned, he had gracefully retreated to a polite distance. But not long after hearing the full story of what led to the accident, he had somehow become Noah’s new kindergarten teacher. The tips of Mark’s ears turned pink. “Nina,” he said softly. “I’ve planned out the hiking route. We should get going.” He was as good as his word; everything was perfectly organized. He took all the heavy bags from me without a second thought. When Noah got tired, he knelt down effortlessly. “Hop on, Noah.” I felt a pang of guilt. “Don’t spoil him, Mark. You’re already carrying so much.” He just smiled, his hand hovering protectively near my back. “It’s nothing. I work out. I can handle it.” For some reason, looking at his clean-cut profile, my heart started to beat a little faster. The feeling hadn’t subsided even when we reached a rest area and he took Noah to buy some water. Just then, a small, familiar voice called out from a distance behind me. “Daddy! Let’s race!” It was followed by Serena’s cheerful tone. “Poppy, slow down! You’ll fall.” And finally, Alistair’s laughing reply. “Princess Poppy, Daddy’s gonna catch you!” I turned my head and my eyes locked with the three of them standing not far away.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “406278”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

When Detective Morgan Gallagher knocked on my door for the second time, his face wore an expression I could not quite read. He asked me if my cat had said anything else. Three days ago, his squad had hauled a body out of the apartment right across the hall. And the catalyst for this entire nightmare began when the stray cat I took in suddenly started talking. At first, I thought I was losing my mind. That was until he told me the man across the hall smelled like blood. I called 911 immediately, and Morgan was the one who showed up. The way he looked at me back then was the exact same way you would look at a psychiatric patient. “You’re telling me your cat gave you a tip?” he asked, his brow furrowed so deep it cast a shadow over his eyes. I nodded vigorously. He did not say another word. He just turned on his heel and walked away. 1 I found the cat three months ago. He was a scruffy orange tabby, crouching by the dumpsters behind my apartment building. He was so starved you could count every single rib pressing against his matted fur. I crouched down, and he instantly shoved his little head into the palm of my hand. It was pouring rain that afternoon. I zipped him inside my winter coat and brought him home. I named him Biscuit. Once I scrubbed the street grime off him, his fur fluffed up into this warm, golden toasted color. Biscuit was a good roommate. He did not scratch the furniture, he rarely meowed, and once his belly was full, he would just sprawl out on the windowsill and soak up the sun. He only had one weird quirk. He was obsessed with staring at the apartment across the hall. Room 6B. A guy in his early thirties lived there. His last name was Finch. He had moved in less than two months ago and practically never left his place. I brushed it off. Cats stare at walls half the time anyway, so watching the hallway did not seem like a red flag. Until that night. At two in the morning, Biscuit launched himself onto my bed and started howling. It was not a normal meow. It was this low, guttural wail scraping out of his throat, like a siren warning of imminent danger. I blinked the sleep out of my eyes and reached out to pet him. The absolute second my fingertips brushed the fur on his head, a voice exploded directly inside my brain. “The man across the hall. He reeks of blood.” I shot up in bed. The room was empty. Just me and Biscuit. That voice did not come through my ears. It bypassed my eardrums entirely and planted itself right into my consciousness. Like someone had downloaded a sentence straight into my skull. Biscuit sat squarely on my pillow, his round amber eyes locked onto mine. I stared back at him. He opened his mouth and let out another meow. The voice echoed in my head again. “He dragged something heavy inside. I can smell it. It is blood.” A cold sweat broke out across my spine, pasting my pajama shirt to my skin. I was definitely dreaming. I had to be asleep. I rolled over and yanked the comforter over my head. Biscuit dug his claws into the blanket, pulling at it while continuing to yowl. “Do you not believe me? The copper smell is real. It is thick.” The voice was stubborn. Unyielding. I threw the blanket off, took three deep breaths, and grabbed my phone. I stared at the screen for ten agonizing minutes. Then I dialed 911. The dispatcher asked the nature of my emergency. “I think there is something wrong at my neighbor’s apartment,” I whispered. “There might be… there might be blood.” “How did you come by this information, ma’am?” I opened my mouth, struggling to form the words. “My cat told me.” Dead silence on the line for three solid seconds. “Ma’am, tying up emergency lines with prank calls is a federal offense.” “I am not pranking you! I swear it is the truth.” The dispatcher’s tone flattened into pure bureaucratic apathy. “Understood. We will make a note of it and send a patrol car to check the vicinity.” The moment she hung up, I knew nobody was coming. Biscuit curled up on my lap, his tail flicking back and forth in agitated thumps. “You called them? Are they not coming?” I looked down at the orange furball, absolutely convinced my grip on reality was gone. I was having a conversation with a feline. The next morning, I left for work. I stepped into the elevator and froze. Finch was already inside. He wore a dark gray hoodie pulled up over a baseball cap, a black surgical mask covering the lower half of his face, and he was gripping two heavy-duty black trash bags. I instinctively took a half-step back. He hit the button for the basement parking garage. Right as the metal doors slid shut, a sharp, chemical scent hit the back of my throat. Industrial bleach. I sat at my desk all morning, my stomach tied in a knot. During my lunch break, I scoured the local news portals. No missing persons. No grisly discoveries. Maybe I really was just losing my mind. When I got home, Biscuit was perched on his usual spot on the windowsill. I dropped my tote bag and walked over. He turned his head to look at me. “He took out the trash twice today. Both times in the dead of night.” My heart skipped a beat. At eleven o’clock that night, some morbid curiosity pulled me out onto my balcony. The windows of 6B were covered by heavy blackout curtains, but a tiny sliver of sickly yellow light bled through the edge. Then I heard Finch’s front door click open. He stepped out, dragging a massive black contractor bag, his head swiveling left and right before he ducked into the stairwell. He avoided the elevator. He took the stairs. Biscuit hopped onto the balcony railing, his ears pinned straight up. “Do you see it? It is that bag again. The stench is awful.” I pulled out my phone and dialed the police again. This time, they actually showed up. Two uniformed patrolmen arrived, flanked by a plainclothes detective. The detective looked about twenty-eight. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with sharp, rigid features and a permanent scowl, like the world was a massive inconvenience to him. He swept his gaze over my living room before locking eyes with Biscuit on the windowsill. “You the one who called it in?” “Yes.” “Walk me through it.” I scrambled to find words that would not get me committed to a ward. “I noticed my neighbor acting highly suspicious. He takes out massive bags of trash at odd hours, and the hallway constantly smells like chemical cleaners.” He nodded slowly, jotting something down in a battered leather notebook. “What else?” “And…” I bit my lip hard enough to taste copper. “My cat is having a severe reaction to that apartment. He will not stop yowling at the door.” The detective stopped writing. He looked up, his expression a masterpiece of judgment. “So the foundation of your police report is a meowing cat?” One of the patrol officers behind him coughed, desperately trying to hide a smirk. My face burned hot enough to fry an egg. “No, I just mean if you look at the whole picture…” “Alright, that is enough.” He snapped the notebook shut. “We will go knock on the door.” Twenty minutes later, he was back in my doorway. “We knocked. No answer. The super says the guy is a recluse, rarely leaves the building. Nothing inherently illegal about being anti-social.” He stared down at me, his voice strictly business. “Unless you have concrete evidence, I highly suggest you stop dialing emergency services.” He turned to leave. “Wait,” I called out. “What is your name?” “Major Crimes Unit. Morgan Gallagher.” He did not even look back as he walked toward the elevator. Biscuit jumped down from the sill and wove around my ankles. “He thinks you are lying.” “I know.” “But I am not lying to you. The smell on that man is getting worse.” 2 I did not call the cops for the next two days. But Biscuit’s behavior spiraled. He abandoned the windowsill completely. Instead, he spent his days flattened underneath the living room sofa, only occasionally poking his head out to stare unblinking at the front door. On the third night, I was in the kitchen heating up a mug of milk. Biscuit suddenly shot out from under the couch and slammed headfirst into my shin. “He is moving something! A huge case! Taking it to his car!” I slammed the mug onto the counter and sprinted to the balcony. Down in the dimly lit parking lot, Finch was shoving a massive, hard-shell suitcase into the back of a dark-colored cargo van. The suitcase looked incredibly heavy. He had to brace his boots against the bumper to muscle it inside. I yanked out my phone and snapped a rapid-fire burst of photos. The zoom was terrible. It was six floors down in the dark, and the pixels were a blurry mess. Finch slammed the doors shut, started the engine, and peeled out of the complex. It was 1:40 AM. I saved the photos to a secure folder and looked down at Biscuit. He was sitting on the balcony threshold, every single hair on his body puffed up like a bottle brush. “There is something inside that case. Something bad.” “What is it?” Biscuit went dead silent for a long moment. “Something that smells exactly like the blood.” I did not call the precinct this time. The next morning was Saturday. I called out sick from work. By ten o’clock, I was sitting in the waiting room of the local veterinary clinic with Biscuit in a carrier. I was not there for a checkup. I needed to test a theory. A hyperactive Poodle was barking its head off in the seat next to me. I casually reached over and rested my hand on the dog’s curly head. Nothing. No voice. No downloaded thoughts. Just a dog barking. It was only Biscuit. He was the only one I could hear. The vet called our name, and I carried Biscuit into the exam room. The doctor did a routine check and declared him perfectly healthy. I hesitated before asking, “Can cats really smell things from incredibly far away?” The vet pushed his glasses up his nose. “A feline’s olfactory senses are roughly fourteen times stronger than a human’s. They pick up on microscopic scent variations. Theoretically, anything a K-9 unit can track, a cat could too. They just absolutely refuse to take orders.” I thanked him, paid the bill, and carried Biscuit home. Right at the entrance of my building, I bumped into Brenda, the property manager. “Hey, Sophie!” Brenda jogged over, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “You notice anything weird going on with that Finch guy across from you?” My stomach dropped. “Like what?” “Some guy came looking for him yesterday. Did not look like a friend, if you catch my drift. Real shady. Kept asking me if the hallway security cameras were broken.” “Are they?” Brenda sighed, waving a dismissive hand. “The camera on the sixth floor fried two months ago. Put in a work order, but corporate is dragging their feet.” Two months ago. Exactly when Finch moved in. I rushed upstairs, booted up my laptop, and compiled everything. The late-night trash runs, the blurry photos of the van, the “broken” cameras. I typed it all into an anonymous tip and fired it off to the city police department’s cyber portal. I did not mention the cat. I stuck to the hard facts. When I hit send, I leaned back in my chair, staring blankly at the screen. Biscuit hopped onto the desk and tilted his head. “You did the right thing.” “But what if they just ignore it again?” Biscuit started grooming his paw. “Then we figure out another way.” Sometimes I forgot this street cat had a better head on his shoulders than most people I knew. At three in the afternoon, heavy knocks rattled my front door. I checked the peephole and opened it. Morgan was standing there. He was not in his suit today. He wore a lightweight black tactical jacket over a dark henley. He looked less like a cop on duty and more like a guy who had just rolled out of bed to deal with a problem. “You again?” I leaned against the doorframe. His expression was a complicated mix of irritation and awkwardness. “You sent an anonymous tip to the city portal?” “I did.” “It got routed straight back to my desk.” I let out a dry laugh. “Full circle, huh?” He ignored the jab and pulled out his phone. “You mentioned photos.” I unlocked my phone and handed it to him. The blurry parking lot. The dark van. The heavy suitcase. He zoomed in, his eyes narrowing, tracing the pixels for a long time. The irritation bled out of his face, replaced by a razor-sharp focus. “These plates…” he muttered under his breath, then snapped his gaze to me. “When exactly did you take this?” “Yesterday. Around 1:40 AM.” He whipped out his own phone, stepped back into the hallway, and dialed a number. He spoke in rapid, hushed tones, barking out codes I could not understand. When he hung up and stepped back inside, the air around him had shifted. It was heavy. “Do not engage with the man across the hall. No eye contact, no casual chatting. Nothing.” “Why?” “Because that van’s license plate just flagged a match in an active missing persons case.” My lungs forgot how to pull in air. Biscuit poked his head around my ankles and let out a soft meow at Morgan. Morgan looked down at the orange tabby. Biscuit’s voice echoed in my head. “The look in his eyes changed. He believes you now.” 3 The day after Morgan’s visit, Room 6B was raided. Bright and early, three unmarked cruisers boxed in the front entrance. Through the peephole, I watched a team of uniformed officers swarm the stairwell, heavy boots echoing off the concrete. Biscuit sat on the shoe rack by the door, his ears swiveling like radar dishes. “They are breaking the lock. The man is not inside.” Thirty minutes later, someone knocked on my door. It was a female detective in plainclothes. She introduced herself as Sarah. She asked if I had heard any muffled noises, any fighting, or seen anyone else entering the apartment. I gave her everything I had. She took down my statement, and right before leaving, she offered a tight smile. “That anonymous email you sent gave us a massive head start. Good work.” “Did you find something?” She gave the standard cop answer. “Just keep your doors locked,” and walked away. By the afternoon, the complex was buzzing. The HOA group chat was absolute chaos. Brenda was dropping voice notes every five minutes. “Oh my god, you guys, the cops pulled evidence bags out of 6B! That Finch guy is in deep trouble.” I put my phone on silent. At eight o’clock that night, Morgan returned. This time he brought a partner. A younger guy with a friendly, round face who introduced himself as Toby. Toby seemed infinitely more approachable than his boss. The second Toby stepped into the apartment, he zeroed in on Biscuit. “Woah, look at this absolute unit of an orange boy!” Biscuit whipped his tail in blatant disgust. His voice popped into my head. “His hands reek of sour cream and onion chips. Do not let him touch my fur.” I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. Morgan took a seat on the sofa, flipping open a manila folder. “Sophie, we need a formalized, on-the-record statement.” “What actually happened over there?” He hesitated, his jaw tight. “We recovered material evidence. Finch is now the prime suspect in an open disappearance.” A disappearance. The tips of my fingers went ice cold. Biscuit jumped onto the coffee table, got right up in Morgan’s personal space, and stared unblinking into his eyes. “His heart is beating very fast,” Biscuit noted in my mind. “He is anxious.” I studied Morgan. His face was a mask of professional stone, but the knuckles gripping his pen were bone-white. The interview took nearly an hour. I walked them through the timeline: the bleach smell, the trash bags, the suitcase, the photos. The only thing I buried was the telepathic cat. Toby finished typing up the notes, then pulled Morgan toward the entryway, whispering furiously. I caught fragments. “Timeline matches… highway cameras… still missing the smoking gun.” Morgan walked toward the front door, grabbed the handle, and then stopped. He turned back to face me. “You live alone?” “Yes.” “The suspect is still at large. We are hunting him down as we speak.” His voice was flat, but there was a crack in his armor—a flash of genuine concern in his dark eyes. “Double-check your deadbolt tonight. Anything feels off, you call my cell directly.” He pulled a matte black business card from his pocket and pressed it into my hand. Toby shot Morgan a highly suggestive side-eye, which Morgan immediately shut down with a lethal glare. Once the door clicked shut, Biscuit sat on the mat, his tail swishing in slow, lazy arcs. “He is worried about you.” “He is worried about his case going sideways.” “Not the same thing.” Biscuit tilted his head. “Cops who only care about the case do not give out their personal cell numbers.” I shoved the card into the junk drawer and refused to entertain the cat’s romantic delusions. After a hot shower, I lay in bed scrolling through social media. The news had not broken it yet. But on a hyper-local neighborhood forum, someone had posted a thread: Police Raid at Pinecrest Apartments Linked to Six-Month-Old Cold Case? The comment section was already a dumpster fire of theories. Murder. Cartels. Cults. Someone even tagged Brenda asking for details. I closed the app and tossed the phone onto the nightstand. Biscuit crawled up the mattress and squeezed under my duvet, leaving only his little orange face exposed. “Are you scared?” he asked. “A little.” “I am here.” I reached out and rubbed the soft spot between his ears. Having a fourteen-pound rescue cat promise to protect you from a suspected killer was not exactly a tactical advantage. But hearing him say it made the knot in my chest loosen just a fraction. At 3:00 AM, Biscuit bolted upright. His ears swiveled, locking directly onto the bedroom door that led out to the living room, toward the front entrance. “Someone is outside.” My blood froze. I stopped breathing, straining my ears into the dead silence of the apartment. A faint, muffled scuffing sound echoed from the hallway. Footsteps. And they had stopped right outside my front door. Biscuit’s fur stood on end, his body arching into a rigid curve of pure hostility. “It is him.” “Who?” “The man. Finch. He came back.” Pure ice injected straight into my veins. Finch was on the run. And he was standing inches away from where I slept. I fumbled blindly for my phone in the dark, my hands shaking so violently I dropped it twice before bypassing the lock screen. I pulled up the contacts, found the number from the black card, and hit call. It rang twice. “Sophie?” Morgan’s voice was gravelly, thick with sleep, but it shifted instantly into high-alert clarity. “There is someone outside my door.” I breathed the words out, my voice barely a wisp of sound. “I hear footsteps. Right outside.” A fraction of a second of silence on the line. “Do not turn on the lights. Do not make a sound. I am on my way.” The line went dead. The scuffing outside continued. It was not the sound of someone walking away. It was the subtle shifting of weight, the squeak of rubber soles grinding against the hallway tile as someone leaned against the doorframe. Biscuit hopped silently off the bed and crept into the living room, pressing his wet nose directly against the crack under the front door. “He is smelling the air,” Biscuit reported. “He is looking under the doorframe to see if your lights are on.” The apartment was pitch black. The only light was the faint glow of my phone screen, which I immediately smothered under my pillow. Then, a metallic scratch. It was agonizingly quiet. The sound of hardened steel sliding into the brass cylinder of my lock. He was testing it. Slow. Methodical. Trying not to wake the neighbors. My heart battered against my ribs so hard I thought it would crack them. Biscuit shot a glance back at the bedroom. “He is feeling out the pins. Your deadbolt is cheap. It will not hold.” I knew that. It was a standard contractor-grade lock. Anyone with a YouTube tutorial and a tension wrench could bypass it in minutes. I gripped the bedsheets, my mind totally blanking out in raw panic. Time warped. Every agonizing second stretched into an eternity. The metallic scraping continued for another two, maybe three minutes. And then, it stopped. The heavy shift of boots moved away from the door, heading toward the stairwell. Biscuit’s ears tracked the sound through the walls. “He is leaving. Going downstairs.” Before I could even let out the breath I was holding, my phone vibrated against the mattress. A text from Morgan. En route. 8 mins out. Are you safe? I typed back with shaking thumbs: He left. The reply was instantaneous: Do not open that door. Wait for me. Eight minutes. I sat on the floor in the corner of my bedroom, clutching Biscuit to my chest, and flicked on a small bedside lamp. We just waited. Biscuit was eerily calm, resting his chin on my forearm, purring softly to keep my heart rate down. “It is over. He is far away now. The smell is gone.” Six minutes later, a heavy, chaotic pounding echoed from the stairwell. Unapologetic, rapid-fire boots slamming against concrete. Then, a fist hammering on my door. “Sophie, it’s Morgan.” I scrambled up, ran to the door, and threw the deadbolt open. Morgan stood there, chest heaving. He had thrown a black t-shirt on over sweatpants, his hair an absolute mess. He must have literally sprinted from his bed to his car. Two uniformed cops were right behind him with their hands resting on their holsters. Morgan’s eyes raked over me from head to toe. Once he saw there was no blood and I was standing upright, the terrifying tension in his jaw cracked just a fraction. “Which way did he go?” “The stairs. Heading down.” He snapped his fingers at the uniforms. They instantly unholstered their flashlights and cleared the stairwell. Morgan stepped inside and immediately knelt by the door. He ran his thumb over the brass cylinder. Fresh, silver scratches scored the metal. His face darkened into a stormy, terrifying mask. He stared at the lock for a long time before standing up and turning to me. “He tried to pick it.” “I know.” “Why didn’t you call 911 first?” “I called you. Isn’t that the same thing?” He blinked, caught completely off guard. He looked at me like he just realized I had bypassed emergency dispatch entirely just to wake him up. The air in the hallway suddenly felt very thick. He looked away, clearing his throat. “Next time, dial 911. Standard protocol.” “911 wouldn’t have gotten here in six minutes.” He didn’t have a comeback for that. Biscuit poked his head out from behind my calves and let out a trilling meow. “His ears are burning,” Biscuit said inside my mind. I shot the cat a warning look to shut up. Morgan walked into the living room and pulled out his notepad. I told him everything I heard, minus the telepathic feline commentary. I told him my gut instinct said it was Finch. He finished writing and looked up at me. “You are a massive liability sitting in this apartment. Finch has been dodging our dragnet for three days. He is desperate. And the moment he saw the crime scene tape on his door, he knew exactly who tipped us off. You are the only neighbor on this floor.” I swallowed hard. “Do you have family in the city? Friends you can crash with?” “No,” I shook my head. “My parents live out of state. My friends all have roommates. There is no space.” “Then…” Before he could finish, the radio clipped to his belt hissed to life. “Detective Gallagher. Traffic cams caught the suspect entering through the north gate. We have visual on a burner vehicle fleeing the perimeter. Setting up blockades now.” “Copy that.” Morgan clicked the radio off. “I am posting a plainclothes unit in your lobby tonight. First thing tomorrow, I am sending a guy to replace this garbage lock.” He walked to the door, stopped, and looked back over his shoulder. “Do you want me to… have Officer Sarah come sit with you?” “I’ll be fine.” I leaned against the wall. “I have Biscuit.” Morgan looked down at the fat orange tabby judging him from the rug. The corner of his mouth twitched—almost a smile, but not quite. He walked out into the night. Biscuit watched the door close. “He desperately wanted to stay.” “Stop analyzing human psychology.” “I am a cat. My instincts are flawless.” I locked the door, slid the chain into place, and wedged a heavy dining chair under the doorknob. Then I dragged the hallway console table in front of it for good measure. Only when the barricade was built did the adrenaline crash, leaving me shaking violently on the floor. Biscuit padded over and draped his warm, fourteen-pound body directly across my lap. He didn’t say another word. He just laid there, vibrating with a deep, rhythmic purr. Rain started lashing against the windows. I sat on the floor, my arms wrapped tightly around the cat, and waited for the sun to come up.

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A friend of mine got called away on an off-world mission, so she asked me to look after her bonded Beastkin for a while. Which brings me to my own partner. He’s ridiculously handsome, with a chiseled chest and a perfectly sculpted ass that’s an absolute dream to touch. He’s also got a pair of fluffy ears and a big, bushy tail. Normally, he wears a permanent scowl and keeps his distance. If I touch him for more than a few seconds, he gets annoyed. But that night, he was kneeling before me, his eyes a hazy, heartbreaking mix of longing and despair. “Baby, don’t look at him.” “I can be good, too.” 1 Sebastian is my bonded mate, my first and only since I came of age. His true form is a white wolf. He’s a man of few words, his presence as cool and sharp as a winter morning, but damn, is he beautiful. Because of the Civic Mandate, he usually keeps his fluffy ears and bushy tail hidden, maintaining a human form. I opened my eyes a little after seven. Sebastian was already standing in front of the full-length mirror, knotting his tie. He fastened the top button of his dress shirt, a fortress of fabric that covered him from throat to waist. The crisp material strained against the hard planes of his chest before disappearing into his slacks, tracing the lean line of his waist and the firm curve of his ass. It also did a fine job of hiding the passionate mess of kiss marks and scratches from the night before. I couldn’t help but savor the memory. A great rack really is a man’s best dowry. He noticed I was awake. His ice-blue eyes flickered toward me for a moment. He pulled the blanket up a little higher over me before looking away again. “Go back to sleep. I’m heading to work.” I patted my cheek, my silent request for a goodbye kiss. Sebastian hesitated. He didn’t move. Instead, he slipped on his suit jacket and hurried out the door, mumbling something vague. “Tonight, maybe.” I sighed, a little disappointed, and rolled over to face the wall. And so, I missed the sight of his ears, the tips blushing a faint, tell-tale pink. 2 Our relationship has always been lukewarm at best. Except for when we’re performing our… official duties, which are usually white-hot, we barely speak to each other. When every human comes of age, the Civic Registry automatically pairs them with a Beastkin based on a compatibility rating. The Mandate was designed to benefit both humans and protect the Beastkin. Without regular soothing from a human partner, an adult Beastkin’s psionic energy will slowly fade. Eventually, they just… wither away. Most bonded pairs have a compatibility rating between sixty and eighty percent. Anything over ninety is considered a rare blessing. According to the Registry, Sebastian and I are a ninety-five percent match. So, naturally, we registered our bond. They say that the higher the compatibility, the more deeply a pair influences one another. They can even develop a telepathic link. I had been filled with so much hope for our life together. Now, it just feels like I was the only one hoping. Sebastian doesn’t seem to like me. He greets me with a cold shoulder every day, and our nights are just a matter of routine. I wouldn’t be surprised if one of these days, he asks me to dissolve the bond. After Sebastian left, I went to the dining room for the breakfast he’d made. A perfectly seared steak sat on the plate, surrounded by a handful of vibrant berries. Next to it was a steaming mug of protein milk and a soft-boiled egg, a wobbly smiley face drawn on top with sauce. He made me something different every single morning. His own breakfast was always the same: a vial of nutrient solution. Beastkin are the opposite of humans. Their sense of smell is incredibly sharp, but their sense of taste is weak. They don’t require much from food, and the solution is just to maintain basic bodily functions. Just then, my wrist-comm chimed with an incoming video call. I answered, and a holographic image of my friend, Nora, shimmered into existence. “Aria! I need a huge favor…” she pleaded, her hands pressed together. “What’s up?” I asked. “I got an off-world assignment on X26. It’s a remote planet, the system out there is a mess, and I’m worried about taking Liam with me. Can he please stay with you?” Liam is Nora’s bonded Beastkin. His true form is a young ram, barely an adult. He was sitting beside Nora, and as he listened, his soft curls seemed to wilt. He looked utterly dejected. I knew Nora would never willingly part with him unless she feared for his safety, so of course, I said yes. That afternoon, Nora brought Liam over in her sky-speeder. The two of them had a long, tearful goodbye at my front door. “I’ll be back before you know it, sweetie,” Nora said, planting a kiss on his cheek. “And I’ll bring you a diamond from X26.” Liam blushed and nodded, quietly reminding her to be safe. They were so wrapped up in each other it was sweet enough to make my teeth ache. Finally, with her departure window closing, Nora rushed off. Liam stood in the doorway, dragging his suitcase behind him, his round, watery eyes fixed on her disappearing speeder. He’s on the smaller side and still looks like a kid. “Don’t worry,” I said, trying to comfort him. “She’s on a medical relief mission. She’ll be fine. Just make yourself at home for a few days. I’ll show you around.” I helped him get settled in the guest room, making sure he had fresh towels and toiletries. Just as we finished, the sound of the front door opening echoed through the house. “I’m home.” 3 Sebastian was shrugging off his coat and loosening his tie with one hand as he stepped inside. His eyes softened the moment they landed on me. “Aria…” His voice trailed off. It was as if he’d just caught an unfamiliar scent in his own territory. His eyes narrowed, the pupils contracting into sharp slits. With a soft pop, his silver-white ears sprang into view, twitching rapidly. Liam, who had followed me out, jumped in fright. A short, woolly tail manifested in a panic, and he ducked behind me. With both of them partially shifted, my house suddenly felt like a zoo. I know they’re Beastkin, not actual animals, but there’s no denying the primal instinct between a wolf and a lamb. Sebastian’s ice-blue eyes were locked on Liam. His canines, now slightly elongated, peeked out from behind his lips as he let out a threatening snarl. A low, guttural growl rumbled in his chest, and he took a restless step forward. But then he saw me, standing protectively in front of Liam, and he froze. He was trapped in the entryway, pacing back and forth, his gaze shifting to me, filled with a wounded, confused look. Between the two of them, Liam was clearly the vulnerable one. I couldn’t spare a thought for Sebastian’s hurt feelings. I quickly ushered Liam back to his room and, with fumbling hands, administered the sedative injection Nora had left for emergencies. I hadn’t anticipated such a volatile reaction between them. Seeing Liam’s breathing slowly return to normal, I finally let out a sigh of relief. Thank God he was okay. I would never have forgiven myself if something had happened to him on my watch. It was over an hour before Liam was completely back to his usual self. I felt a nagging sensation, like I’d forgotten something important, but I couldn’t quite place it. What was it? I scratched my head, trying to remember as I walked back to my own bedroom. The master bedroom was dark. I flicked on the light switch, blinking against the sudden brightness. When my eyes adjusted, I remembered exactly what I had forgotten. 4 Sebastian was kneeling on the floor, legs parted, still dressed in his black suit. The stark white of his skin was a shocking contrast against the dark wood. Veins stood out on his forearms as he braced his hands on his thighs, the fabric of his slacks pulled taut, revealing the faint lines of his shirt garters. He was fully clothed, yet the sight was unbelievably seductive. Heat rushed to my cheeks. Sebastian looked up, his ice-blue eyes meeting mine from below. The light caught a wet sheen on them, like a thin layer of morning mist. He begged, his voice raspy. “Baby, please… touch me.” “I can be good, too.” As he spoke, I felt something soft and furry brush against my leg. I looked down. It was his big, bushy tail, tentatively nudging closer. The very tip of it gave a hopeful little flick. When I didn’t pull away, it seemed to take that as encouragement, curling possessively around my ankle. Sebastian had always been so stoic, so reserved. He’d never done anything this bold before. If I could resist this, I wouldn’t be human. I released a wave of my psionic energy, and his breath immediately hitched. A dark fire ignited in his eyes, turning them into a deep, swirling ocean, as brilliant and captivating as the rarest sapphire. He moved toward me as if in a trance, murmuring my name. “Aria… you’re mine.” The air crackled with a thick, unspoken promise. I ran my fingers down the length of his tail, feeling the soft fur, then let my hand drift toward his thigh. The muscles there went rigid under his trousers. He tilted his head back, exposing the vulnerable line of his throat, and let out a ragged breath. Then, he reached out, his hand enveloping mine. Slowly, deliberately, he guided my fingers to the buttons of his shirt, undoing them one by one. A small, triumphant thought sparked within me. So, he does feel something for me after all. But as my touch grazed his mind, I felt the familiar emptiness of his psionic sea—parched and desperate. A chill of realization washed over me. This wasn’t about love. This was instinct. Our high compatibility rating made his natural urges for me impossible to overcome. The presence of another Beastkin, Liam, had just triggered his primal, possessive nature. He needed me. That was all. And so, I didn’t bother explaining about Liam. And he never asked. And so, we engaged in the most intimate act two beings can share, our bodies close, our hearts miles apart. 5 When I woke up the next morning, Sebastian was already gone. A warm breakfast was waiting on the dining table. He’d even made a plate for Liam. The fried egg on my plate was decorated with a cute, happy cat face. Liam’s was decorated with an angry little scowl. The poor lamb looked terrified the entire meal, his hand trembling so much he could barely hold his fork. After we ate, I figured a lambkin probably needed to get out and stretch his legs. Unsure of where to take him, I settled on the nearby shopping complex. Liam, being newly adult, was fascinated by everything. I used Nora’s credit chip to buy him a small mountain of things, trailing behind him like a pack mule loaded with shopping bags. We hadn’t even left the complex when the sharp crack of plasma fire split the air. The calm dissolved into chaos. Screams erupted as people scrambled for the exits. Fortunately, the Federal Security Division arrived in minutes, quickly restoring order inside and setting up a security perimeter outside. No one was allowed to leave until the threat was neutralized. Liam had never seen anything like it. His face was pale with terror, and his already unstable psionic energy began to fluctuate wildly. I hadn’t thought to bring Nora’s sedative with us. I cursed myself for being so careless. Liam’s psionic distress was starting to affect the people around us, making them agitated and anxious, and he was clearly in pain. I gritted my teeth. “Liam, I can perform a temporary psionic soothing,” I said. “I’ll explain everything to Nora when you get back, okay?” He nodded desperately. Slowly, I extended my psionic energy, using the standard, clinical soothing technique they teach at the medical centers. I’d only ever done this for Sebastian, and always in a much more… intimate way. I had no idea if this formal method would even work. To my relief, the color started to return to Liam’s face. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. When I looked up, I noticed the crowd had parted around us, creating a silent, empty space. I turned my head. And saw Sebastian. He was standing behind me in his black tactical uniform. I had no idea how long he’d been there, just watching me. His face was a mask, as cold and unreadable as ever. His ice-blue eyes were voids, betraying nothing. But if you looked closely, you could see the fine tremor running through his body, a stark contrast to his rigid posture. I opened my mouth to explain, but with so many people around, it wasn’t the right time. A flicker of raw despair, of utter brokenness, crossed his face. Then, in the next second, Sebastian’s gaze shifted from me to Liam, who was now resting his head on my shoulder. And then, to my horror, he raised his gun.

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The System, dormant for years, suddenly flickered to life. In the depths of my despair, it was my only chance. It told me that, given my circumstances, it had secured a new identity for me. It also said that this broken body of mine would be handed over to an AI to manage. I had three days to complete the handover. I thought back to a short time ago, to the man I’d poured my heart and soul into for seven years—the story’s second male lead. For the sake of the so-called heroine, he had done this to me. First, he’d snapped my arms. Then, he’d driven steel nails through the soles of my feet, leaving me permanently crippled. Seven years of devotion, shattered by his own hands, reduced to nothing. 1 I’d always considered myself a person with backbone. So, when Corbin was tormenting me, I never once begged for mercy. At my most defiant, I’d even spit curses back at him. “Corbin! You’re blind and heartless! You’re nothing but Lila’s lapdog!” Before the System reappeared, I had completely given up. I figured since there was no going back, we might as well spend the rest of our lives making each other miserable. Our lives had become a twisted cycle. I would provoke him, and he would torture me. But now, the System, gone for two years, was back. It told me it had secured one last chance for me, a new mission with a new target. To avoid alerting anyone, I would be given a new identity. This battered body would be left in the care of an AI, programmed to mimic my behavior and mannerisms, ensuring the story continued uninterrupted. A laugh escaped my lips. My throat, raw from constant dehydration, produced a hoarse, muffled sound. But it was a laugh of pure joy. Right now, the most important thing was getting out of this basement. After taking five minutes to compose myself, I dragged my mutilated legs across the floor, crawling toward the door. Biting my chapped lips, I forced the words out. “Corbin, let’s make up. I swear, I… I won’t act out anymore… I’m willing to apologize to Lila, too…” Silence from the other side of the surveillance camera. The silence stretched on for so long I thought his men had given up on me, not even bothering to pass on the message. Then, a soft creak. The door swung open. 2 Corbin came home the next day. I was lying in the guest room bed, discussing my new target with the System. He entered wearing a dark overcoat, bringing the winter chill in with him. In his hand, he clutched a small, exquisite box. When he caught my eye, he instinctively tucked it into his coat pocket. I scoffed internally. What’s the point in hiding it? The internet was buzzing with news of Lila’s upcoming birthday and how the CEO of Blackwood Corporation had commissioned a priceless piece of custom jewelry. He’d been abroad for two weeks, no doubt personally overseeing the creation of this gift. It was laughable, really. I’d pulled him out of the gutter, stood by his side as he fought his way from having enemies on every corner to standing at the top of the world. And I had never once received a gift he’d made with his own hands. But Lila just had to show up at the right time, whisper a few words about their childhood connection, and all of his principles would crumble. If I had known, I never would have chosen him as my target in the first place. At least without my help, it would have taken him a few more years to succeed. For the past two years, the rift between us had grown into a chasm. His first suspicion was that this was another one of my tricks. He stood by the bed for a while, studying my face, searching for any hint of deceit. Once he was convinced I had let go of my animosity, he approached and lifted me from the bed. “Go sleep in our room.” His voice was cool but tinged with a softness, as if the cruelty of the past had never happened. The thought of that master bedroom, the one he had redecorated, made my stomach turn. I flinched involuntarily but forced myself to endure it for the sake of the plan. I even managed to snuggle my head into his chest. Corbin paused for a fraction of a second, then let out a soft sigh. “It’s good that you see your mistake. You’re not the spoiled heiress you used to be. Stop being so proud. Lila has a soft heart. If you apologize sincerely, she’ll forgive you. If you have to, kneel for her at the party. In front of all those people, she’ll have to accept.” 3 Two years ago, just as Corbin and I were preparing to get married, the heroine, Lila, appeared. It was the year she finally resolved to escape her abusive adoptive parents and change her fate. It was also the beginning of my nightmare. Because she had once snuck him a bowl of porridge when they were children in the same orphanage, Corbin welcomed her with open arms. But as someone with the System, I knew this wasn’t about repaying a kindness. It was the joy of recovering a long-lost first love, of finally having the chance to cherish her. At first, I didn’t mind. I believed the Corbin I knew was no longer the same character from the book. He had me now. He wouldn’t get dragged into the heroine’s dramatic love life, fighting the male lead and ending up in ruins. I even helped him take care of Lila. I brought her to events and parties, setting the stage for her to meet the story’s main male lead. But I had underestimated the power of the first love. Especially after the male lead appeared, Corbin became possessive and volatile in a way I had never seen before. He went to insane lengths to show Lila how much he cared. The most extreme example: someone said a few harsh words to Lila, and Corbin, right in front of me, had the person’s tongue cut out. Blood splattered everywhere. For weeks after, I was plagued by nightmares. I’d dream of a figure with a lolling tongue, laughing a high, sharp laugh. During those times, Corbin would hold me tight, whispering soothingly, telling me not to be afraid. He said he wouldn’t do it again. He promised. He wouldn’t hurt anyone for Lila’s sake again. Instead, he just started hurting me. 4 Life was peaceful for a while after that. I took up the piano, using music to soothe my frayed nerves. When I was feeling particularly good, I’d even enter amateur competitions. Lila expressed an interest, so I taught her and we signed up for a competition together. I made it to the finals. Lila, lacking practice, didn’t make it past the preliminary round. I comforted her, told her not to be sad, that we could try again next year. I took her shopping to cheer her up. I didn’t realize that when I tried on a pair of high heels and casually mentioned to the sales clerk that I planned to wear them for the piano finals, Lila would burst into tears. Everyone rushed to her side, but she just clammed up and cried harder. It wasn’t until Corbin arrived that she finally spoke. “The shoes look so beautiful on Aria. I’m not worthy. I’m not worthy of beautiful clothes or shoes, or of playing in piano competitions. Everyone was right, my being here is just a joke. I never should have come looking for you, Corbin!” Corbin’s eyes went cold. “What did you say to her?” My explanations were drowned out by Lila’s sobs. Corbin wouldn’t listen. I begged Lila to explain, to tell him the whole story, to tell him who this “everyone” was, to explain that we had all been nothing but kind to her. But she just bit her lip, a look of profound humiliation on her face, and cried in silence. That night, Corbin ordered his men to torture me. He had my finger bones broken. He drove steel nails through the soles of my feet. He made it so I could never play the piano again. So I could never wear beautiful high heels again. All to soothe Lila’s “wounded” heart. “It was just a small punishment,” he told me later. “But Lila was so upset she cried!” 5 “You were so lucky to have me. Why did you have to bully her?” That was the day the System abandoned me. For a long time, I couldn’t walk. My hands couldn’t even hold chopsticks. I had to drink through a straw, completely dependent on the staff for my daily needs. Being crippled and failing my mission made me even more volatile than Corbin. He would have fleeting moments of regret and pity, but they were always followed by the same stern question: “Have you learned your lesson?” What lesson was there to learn? I couldn’t figure it out, so I just spit in his face. Lila visited me once, asking how I’d ended up like this, wondering if it was her fault. I didn’t say anything, which only made her start crying again, promising she’d try to talk to her “dear Corbin.” Of course, when Corbin walked in, she didn’t say a word. That was the first time I began to question the heroine’s supposed innocence. And my own role in all this. Had my presence somehow corrupted her? Had my interference prevented the pure, innocent girl who had suffered so much from blooming? I gave up. I let Corbin punish me as he pleased. When the heroine cried, the whole world lost. His goal was to make everyone else miserable to compensate for the injustices she had suffered, to make them a dark backdrop for her bright future. I couldn’t stop it. But I could still provoke him. “This is boring, Corbin. So boring. If you love her, just go after her. Make it official before someone else snatches her up and you come crying back to me. Don’t worry, I can be the other woman. Wouldn’t that be fun?” His face would turn to stone. “What nonsense are you talking about? I only see Lila as a sister!” After that, whenever I provoked him, he would lock me in the basement to “reflect.” At first, it was for a few hours. Then a few days. Then for weeks at a time. The place, once a wine cellar, became a filthy, stinking pit. Six months later, Lila suddenly agreed to a contract marriage with the male lead, Rex. Corbin, acting as her “big brother,” threw her a lavish wedding. But secretly, he had our master bedroom remodeled to look exactly like their bridal suite. Oh, and his phone’s wallpaper? It’s a picture of the happy couple on their wedding day. The whole thing was so absurd I wanted to burst into song. 6 The handover was set for the third day, Lila’s birthday. The night before, not wanting to speak to him, I turned my back to Corbin and pretended to be asleep. For some reason, he came to bed early too, pulling me into his arms. His breath was warm on my ear, his voice so soft it was almost a hallucination. “Aria, after tomorrow, we’ll be together forever. We just have to get through tomorrow…” I nodded vehemently in my mind. Sure. You and the AI are both inhuman in your own way. You’ll probably get along great. Lila’s birthday party was held at the most luxurious hotel in the city. It was crowded and chaotic, the perfect cover for the handover. I entered the ballroom in my wheelchair. Through the gaps in the crowd, I could see Lila, dressed like a princess, standing before a towering six-tiered cake, surrounded by admirers, her smile radiant. Of course. The heroine’s halo, always allowing her to rise above it all. By now, her dark past with her adoptive parents had been taken care of by Rex and Corbin. Her new in-laws, aware of her powerful “brother,” treated her with the utmost respect. Once the absentee male lead finished his groveling win-her-back storyline, her life would be perfect. And me? I was just a joke from beginning to end. 7 According to the plan, while Corbin was helping Lila cut the cake, I pretended to ask about the food and completed the handover with the AI, who was disguised as a waiter. I thought the process would be long, painful. It wasn’t. A brief moment of vertigo, and then I was in a new body. The pain was less than a thousandth of what Corbin had inflicted on me. The highly-trained AI had already mastered my expressions and was now looking towards Corbin. I, holding a tray of food, carefully took my first steps away from the ballroom, my legs unsteady but blessedly whole. The walk to the exit felt like a journey through another lifetime. At the door, I couldn’t resist one last look back. Just then, the crowd parted. And I saw Corbin leading “Aria” to Lila and forcing her to her knees. Because of the injuries to her limbs, it looked less like kneeling and more like a humiliating prostration. Corbin pressed the back of her head down, forcing it to touch the floor again and again. He was smiling, a hollow, performative smile. I couldn’t hear his words, but I could make out Lila’s feigned surprise and the shocked gasps of the crowd. A hand squeezed my heart, stealing my breath for a moment. The “Aria” AI was incredibly advanced. The face I had worn for seven years twisted into an expression of groveling submission, identical to the one I had worn in the basement three days ago. It was pathetic enough to fool everyone. But only I knew the difference. Her submission was seamless, absolute. Mine had always been a mask for my struggle, my defiance. I had considered it before, a life of submission. If I just gave in, if I just played the part, would things have been easier? But every time I wavered, a voice screamed from inside me—It’s useless! You’ll just become his toy! He didn’t love me. But I couldn’t give up on myself. Corbin’s expression was solemn, earnest, even relieved. I wanted to laugh. He knew exactly what this would mean to me, and he did it anyway. Or rather, he did it because he knew. It was disgusting. 8 When I first found Corbin, he had just left his life as a street tough. He was broke, desperate, and being hunted by old enemies. At the time, my own wealthy family had cast me out. I had no choice but to take him with me, moving from one hiding place to another. One night, they broke in. In the chaos, Corbin threw himself in front of me, taking a knife to the gut. Through gritted teeth, he whispered a reassurance, then half-carried me as we fled. The car broke down, and he finally collapsed from blood loss. I watched his blood mix with the rain, washing over the asphalt of that deserted road. As his body grew cold, my heart sank with it. I held him and cried. “Corbin, hold on! You’re going to be okay, we’re both going to be okay! What will I do without you?” Before, my concern for him was only about the mission. I had been careless with him, treating him with a certain detachment. He was the second male lead; he was supposed to love the heroine. I just had to play my part, earn some affection points, and never, ever give him my real heart. But that night, the image of him shielding me without a second thought replayed in my mind. My perspective shifted completely. He was a man of few words, but he had always been good to me. I had, without realizing it, come to depend on him. And he depended on me, right? He wouldn’t have risked his life for me if he didn’t feel something. That was the most terrified I had ever been. It was also the first time I truly understood my own feelings. I knelt in the middle of the road, bowing my head to the pavement, begging for a kind driver to stop. I was sideswiped by cars, cursed at, shoved, soaked in muddy water. Somehow, against all odds, we were saved. To pay for his medical bills, I had to go to my stepsister, the one who had always tormented me. She made me kneel, then used the tip of her shoe to force my chin up. “Well, well, Aria. You’re not so tough now, are you?” She threw a piece of cake on the floor and ground it into the carpet with her heel, just as she was grinding my dignity into the dirt. “Lick it clean, and I’ll give you the money.” When Corbin woke up and found out, he was heartbroken. He kissed the scars on my knees and my forehead. The man who hadn’t made a sound when he was stabbed had tears in his eyes for the first time. “Never again,” he swore. “I will never let anyone bully you again.” That was the moment I started to fall for him. Now, a new path lies before me. When I look back, the road I came from has vanished. 9 For some reason, as if sensing something, Corbin suddenly looked in my direction. Across the crowded room, his eyes locked on me for a fraction of a second. My heart seized. I tore my gaze away and ran. I never expected that as I stumbled down the stairs, I would run right into my new target. He was running toward me, catching me just as I was about to fall. Under the warm glow of the streetlights, his eyes shimmered like distant stars. Even his fingertips were trembling. I looked up. The starlight in his eyes spilled over, tracing a silver path down his cheeks. His voice was deep and hoarse, shaking slightly. “Where did you run off to?” 10 My new target’s name was Noah. He said he was here to take me home. But once we were in the car, he couldn’t hold back his emotions any longer. He covered his face with one hand, holding mine with the other, and began to sob quietly. His grip wasn’t tight, but I couldn’t pull away. I sat in the passenger seat, completely bewildered. I racked my brain, desperately trying to find any memory of a connection between this body and Noah. They were childhood friends, reunited after a long separation. But they had only seen each other a few days ago, after seven long years. Yesterday, I asked the System what his initial affection level was. It was vague. “Don’t worry,” it said, “he’s easy to win over.” Was he? That’s what it had said about Corbin, too. And I’d spent seven years stuck at ninety-nine percent. 11 Noah eventually composed himself and drove me home. At the door, he suddenly stopped me. “Wait here a second.” I stood in the hallway and watched him rush inside. He went from room to room, turning on every single light—the living room, the bedroom, even the bathroom. Only then did he come back to me, smiling. “It’s not dark anymore. Don’t be afraid.” I looked down at his outstretched hand. It was pale and slender, but covered in calluses and fine lines that didn’t match his age. A still pool deep inside me rippled. My nose stung with an unfamiliar sorrow. In a blur, his image overlapped with that of a young boy from a memory that wasn’t mine. On a rain-soaked street, a boy stood in knee-deep water, his pants rolled up. He held out his hand, just like this, and said, “Don’t be afraid, Zoe. I’ll carry you.” Zoe? Who was Zoe? I tapped my head. I didn’t know. I couldn’t remember. After I was brought to this world, the dimensional interference had wiped many of my memories. I had begged the System to help me recover them, but they were just fragments, impossible to piece together. “That’s because your life was always in fragments,” the System had told me, its tone laced with pity. Abandoned by my parents, alone in the world, dead before my time. My only way out was to complete the missions and be reborn. So, how could someone born in darkness be afraid of the dark? Besides, for years, I was either on the run with Corbin in the dead of night or locked away in his pitch-black basement. Even if I had been afraid, I had long since gotten used to it. Noah stood a step away, his eyes fixed on mine. He saw the confusion on my face, and a flicker of pain crossed his. It felt like he was always looking through me, searching for someone else. In this unfamiliar body, I felt like an impostor. I thought about changing the subject, but then I remembered my mission. I couldn’t be timid. I couldn’t spend another seven years waiting for a dead end. I looked back at him. Unlike Corbin’s naturally aloof, world-weary face, Noah’s was gentle and kind. His soulful, melancholic eyes were so expressive that for a moment, I wanted to cry with him. A few strands of silver in his dark hair caught the light. I frowned. Almost unconsciously, the words slipped out. “Noah, why do you look so much older?” In his eyes, a light flared brightly, only to be extinguished in the next instant. I froze. Those weren’t my words… They couldn’t have been. I had never met him before. How could I know how much he had changed? I didn’t understand. I tried to call the System, but there was no response. It had been silent ever since Noah appeared. A knot of anxiety tightened in my chest. Had I just escaped one trap only to fall into another? Noah’s lips curved into a smile, but his eyes drooped at the corners. For a second, I thought he was going to cry again. He looked at me, a deep, searching gaze. He placed his large, warm hand on my head and said something I didn’t understand. “They said you have to remember on your own. I’ll wait for you…” “Remember what?” “Remember—” He stopped abruptly, pressing his lips together and shaking his head. His smile withered like an autumn flower under the harsh light.

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The day I was born, my mother died in childbirth. When my fiancé, Collin, found out, he was worried I’d be haunted by it. He suggested we be child-free, just the two of us. Five years into our marriage, I finally started to let go of that fear. I decided I was ready. I wanted a child of our own. I booked an appointment with Collin—he’s a top obstetrician—planning to surprise him with the good news. But when I got to the hospital, the nurse stopped me. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but Mrs. Thorne has a prenatal appointment this afternoon. Dr. Thorne has cleared his entire schedule for her.” Confused, I pushed open his office door to ask him what was going on. The door swung open, and I saw him. Collin was holding a heavily pregnant young woman in his arms, his head pressed against her belly, listening intently to the baby’s movements. He saw me, and pure panic flashed across his face. “Aria, don’t be angry,” he stammered. “I know you never wanted children, but my parents… they’ve been pressuring me so much.” He swore to me, “Don’t worry, this baby will be ours. As soon as she’s born, we can finally be a happy family of three.” Later, on the day that girl gave birth, Collin delivered her baby himself. What he didn’t know was that on the other side of that same hospital wall, I had an appointment of my own. For an abortion. … After confirming my pregnancy at Collin’s hospital, I asked the nurse to help me book an appointment with him. “I’m afraid he’s fully booked,” she advised. “Dr. Thorne’s wife is pregnant too, and he’s reserved the entire afternoon for her prenatal check-up.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “You have no idea how in love they are. Even if you got an appointment, he wouldn’t have time for anyone else.” I clutched the ultrasound photo and couldn’t help but smile to myself. So, Collin, an OB/GYN, had figured it out already? Was this his surprise for our fifth wedding anniversary? But when I pushed open his office door, I saw him with his head pressed against another woman’s belly, listening to the baby kick. On his desk sat a cake. The words “Happy 5th Anniversary” were piped in icing, a sharp, painful sting to my eyes. The ultrasound picture slipped from my fingers. Collin stepped on it as he rushed to embrace me. “Aria, what are you doing here?” The panic on his face was fleeting, replaced by a practiced calm. “Did you come to pick me up for our anniversary?” “I just have this one last patient, then we can go home.” Even now, he was trying to pretend everything was normal. But after five years of sharing a bed, I knew him too well. Every flicker of guilt in his voice was amplified in my ears. “The nurse said Dr. Thorne’s wife was here for a check-up, so I came to see. Do you have a second wife I don’t know about?” I tore the facade of our perfect life to shreds. Collin sighed, a long, heavy sound. He was silent for a long time. “It’s not like that,” he finally said. “It was only one time. Nine months ago.” I have a sharp memory for dates. Nine months ago, there was a major malpractice lawsuit at Collin’s hospital. As a lawyer, I pulled every string I had to defend them, working tirelessly for a month. There was only one night we didn’t see each other. “So, you’re telling me that while I was defending your hospital, comforting grieving families until I was vomiting blood from stress, the reason I couldn’t reach you… was because you were cheating on me?” Ninety-seven calls. I had called him for a solid hour in my moment of absolute desperation. In the end, it was the family of the deceased patient who took pity on me and drove me to the hospital. He had rushed to my room in the middle of the night, full of apologies. Seeing how guilty he looked, I had comforted him, telling myself he was just exhausted from the lawsuit, that he had slept through my calls. It never once crossed my mind that he had just crawled out of another woman’s bed. “It wasn’t cheating!” Collin’s grip on me tightened. “That night, I went to my parents for help with the hospital. You know how they are about us not having children. They’d been trying to set me up with my ex. They drugged me.” “I managed to get away. I was coming home to you.” Which home was that? I wondered. How did he end up with his intern? I bit my lip and said nothing. He took my silence as acceptance and let out a breath of relief. “Aria, she’s over nine months along. It’s too late to terminate the pregnancy.” “Then why didn’t you do it sooner? You’re an obstetrician. She’s your intern. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice she was pregnant.” He cut me off. “Don’t be difficult. You didn’t want a child, and I respected that. But my parents were relentless. Do you really want me to be the last of my family line?” I stared at him, stunned. Five years ago, he had sworn to me that we would never have children. How could a person change so completely? His calm eyes reflected my own furious face, as if I were the one in the wrong. “You can hit me, do whatever you want. But this child… I really want this child.” “After the baby is born, I’ll send Chloe away. It was an accident, but at least we’ll have a child. Then, we can be a happy family of three.” The dam of my emotions finally broke. “My child?” I asked, my voice shaking with rage. “Should I thank you for cheating on me? Thank you for giving me a child I never wanted?” “Collin, you have to choose. It’s me or the baby!” His silence was my answer. I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms, willing the tears not to fall. “Fine. We’re getting a divorce.” 2 I turned to leave, but a hand grabbed my arm. It was Chloe. She fell to her knees at my feet. “Aria, I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault. I hid the pregnancy from Collin. But the baby is innocent. I’ll leave as soon as it’s born. Please, don’t blame him.” A flicker of pity crossed Collin’s face. He pulled her up, holding her close. They stood there together, pleading with me. “Aria, you’re the kindest person I know. You were the one who sponsored Chloe through college. How can you not have room in your heart for her child?” His accusatory gaze was a physical blow, a stark contrast to the adoring way he had looked at me when we first met. How had everything changed so much? At our university’s opening ceremony, Collin had seen me give a speech and had fallen for me instantly. I had tried to brush him off, using the distance between the medical school and the main campus as an excuse. But he had traveled ten kilometers every day, rain or shine, to bring me a single rose. When I went abroad to study, he followed. But what truly brought us together was the anniversary of my mother’s death. My previous engagement had been called off because I refused to have children. Everyone told me a life without children was incomplete, that no man would want a barren woman. Only Collin had taken my hand and said, “To have a woman like Aria is the greatest gift in the world. Whether she has children is her choice, and I will respect it.” “If I am lucky enough to marry her, I will never force her to do anything she doesn’t want to do.” That was the moment I fell in love with him. From then on, our love was a symphony. He was proud to be with me, announcing our relationship to the world. His parents, some of the wealthiest people in the city, had demanded he secretly produce an heir before marrying me. He had refused, even cutting ties with them when they tried to set him up with other women. He proposed the day after we graduated, and we were married in a whirlwind. He said he wanted to eliminate any possibility of betrayal. But here he was, betraying me. Even when I had finally overcome my deepest fears, ready to give him the one thing he thought he could never have, I was too late. He wasn’t the same man anymore. The pain in my chest was so intense I couldn’t breathe. My head swam, and the world dissolved into a cacophony of Collin’s frantic voice. “Aria, what’s wrong? Don’t scare me!” I was rushed to a room, diagnosed with hyperventilation. Collin sat by my side, holding my hand, his guilty tears falling onto my skin. When I had stabilized, he stood up. “I’ll go get a doctor.” “You are a doctor,” I said, grabbing his arm, terrified he would find out about the pregnancy. “Besides, I’m fine now. Don’t go.” He nodded. He started to say something, to fuss over me, but I held up my phone, the divorce agreement I’d drafted displayed on the screen. “Aria, what is this?” We had drafted it the year we got married. He had promised that if he ever did anything to betray my trust, all our assets would go to me, and we would divorce immediately, no questions asked. I frowned. “I’ve revised it. We’ll split everything fifty-fifty. I don’t want more than my share.” “No, I don’t want it. You promised you would never leave me…” He pulled me into a desperate hug. “And you promised you would never betray me,” I said, my voice cold. “It’s been nine months. If I hadn’t found out, were you just going to wait until the baby was born to tell me?” “Did you ever once ask me if this was what I wanted?” “It was my parents,” he explained, his voice frantic. “If I didn’t give them a grandchild, they threatened to ruin your law firm and my hospital, to force us out of the city.” “I was just trying to protect you.” A bitter laugh escaped me, followed by a torrent of tears. “Collin, when did you become such a coward?” I remembered the man who had defied his family for me. He was nothing like the man standing before me now. He flinched at my words, then held me tighter. “After the baby is born, my parents will raise it. Nothing will change between us.” “I love you. I’ll agree to anything, just not a divorce.” “Then I want you to get rid of the baby.” 3 “Anything but that.” I looked at him in silence. I knew that, aside from those two things, he would give me the world. His devotion to me had never wavered. Even after leaving his family, he had built a life for us. The luxury items I casually mentioned would appear on my bedside table the next day. He made me lunch every day for five years without fail. Once, I idly wished for a star, and he bought the naming rights to a newly discovered planet. It was like we were back in the honeymoon phase, where any wish of mine was his command. Except this time, I felt no excitement, no joy. “Fire Chloe.” “Of course,” he agreed without hesitation. “As soon as she has the baby, I’ll never have contact with her again.” He even pulled out his phone, ready to delete her number. But the long call history was a fresh stab to my heart. “I want to see your phone.” He paled, but handed it over. They had been texting almost every day for the past nine months. As I scrolled up, his anxiety grew, and my heart sank. They had been in contact for three years, ever since I had first sponsored her. She was on the list of candidates I was considering. Her grades weren’t exceptional. I wouldn’t have even noticed her if Collin hadn’t specifically pointed her out. “I know this student,” he had said. “Her grades aren’t the best, but she works incredibly hard.” “If you’d rather not, we can pass.” I had shaken my head. If she was his former classmate, I was happy to give her a chance. I had almost forgotten about it until Collin hired her at the hospital, another exception to the rules. After that, he started working late more and more often. So many nights, he would get a call and rush out. A doctor’s life is demanding. I understood. I trusted him. But trust had bred betrayal. I should have seen it sooner. “Aria, stop.” Collin took the phone from me. Just then, a special ringtone I had set for Chloe went off. Her name flashed on the screen. He answered, right in front of me. “I told you, if you need something, call my parents or the housekeeper. Aria is sick. I can’t be with you all the time.” He didn’t even realize how strained his own voice was. He told me not to look, but his eyes were pleading with me. I closed my eyes. “Go. See her.” “Of course he’s going to see his son.” The door burst open, and Collin’s parents stormed in. They didn’t look at me with anything resembling kindness. Usually, Collin would have stepped between us, but he was still flustered from the call. “How can you be so cruel?” his mother spat. “You won’t have a child of your own, and you won’t let Collin have one either? Chloe called, and you’re still clinging to him, refusing to let him go?” “Collin, let’s go see Chloe and little Jackson.”

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