Category: English

Right after graduation, I married my grandfather’s younger friend. He was a thirty-five-year-old, aloof and disciplined college professor, but in the heat of the moment, he would lose all control with me. His voice would turn hoarse as he whispered my nickname, promising to build a family and have children with me. But on the exact day my pregnancy was confirmed, I found a hidden stack of postcards. The handwriting was bold and elegant, every word dripping with deep affection. [My dearest Rose: [My wife shares a few of your features. It is a rare comfort. By coincidence, her nickname is also ‘Rose.’ [But a substitute is never the original. She only offers a temporary distraction from my bitter longing for you.] It turned out that the marriage I had thrown myself into so recklessly was nothing but a laughable game of pretend. I signed a classified non-disclosure agreement for a fake death, got an abortion to make way for her, and left him with nothing but a handful of ashes. And it drove him completely insane. 01 After the abortion procedure, I walked out of the clinic in a daze. My phone rang. It was the same number that had been sending me multimedia messages. I answered it. The background noise was loud and rowdy, like a party was in full swing. “Open another bottle! Let’s celebrate Rose’s triumphant return! Hey, Professor Cole, didn’t you say you stopped drinking because you and the wife were trying for a baby? How come you’re breaking the rules the second Rose gets back?” “He has to break the rules! Rose is back, who cares about trying for a baby? Just swap the wife out and be done with it!” “Honestly, a young girl like that is only good for a short fling. She’s too delicate, too clingy, and a nightmare to coax. Look at Harrison—ever since he got married, he’s just a ghost shuttling between the campus and his house. If we weren’t riding Rose’s coattails tonight, we never would have gotten him to come out.” “But come on, Harrison, your little wife is pretty good to you. When you broke your leg and were hospitalized last year, she ran herself ragged between her classes, the hospital, and home. She made you bone broth every single day, and her clothes were hanging off her by the time you were discharged. It’s just a pity that a substitute will always be a substitute.” “With a sweet, delicate young girl fluttering around you every day, are you really telling us you never felt a thing for her, Harrison?” Before Harrison Cole could say a word, an elegant, sweet female voice chimed in. “Oh, stop making things difficult for Harrison. “Let’s play Truth or Dare. I’ll start. “Harrison, if I asked you to divorce her and marry me… would you?” I instinctively held my breath, my entire heart clenching into a tight knot. A long silence stretched over the line. “Yes.” It was that deep, steady voice I loved so much. The same voice that used to murmur my name between the sheets, making me lose all reason and sink into him. But now, it was a sharp knife, violently crushing my heart into a pulp. The crowd on the other end erupted in cheers. My heart turned to ash, and I hung up the phone. When I got home, I walked into his study—his forbidden sanctuary. I used to think he just didn’t want me cleaning in there for fear I’d accidentally damage his rare, collectible books. But when I opened the door and found the stacks of photos in his drawer, along with the unsent love letters, I realized what a fool I had been. It turned out that every place we visited, every sweet little milestone we accomplished as a couple… he would write a postcard to his first love about it. He was looking right through me, seeing someone else. Thank God there was still time. I looked at the unsent text message on my phone. [Are you really going to give up joining the Special Operations Division for him? That is your biggest dream, and it was your parents’ dying wish.] I wiped away my tears and typed a reply. [Grandpa, I am formally applying to join ‘Project Artemis.’] My phone rang almost immediately. It was my grandfather, whom I hadn’t spoken to in two years. Hearing his strict, familiar voice made my eyes instantly well up with tears of comfort. “Have you thought this through? Once you leave, you won’t be able to come back for five, maybe even ten years. “Will he agree to this?” “I don’t need his permission.” I paused, finally unable to hold back the overwhelming grievance in my heart. “Grandpa, he never loved me. I was wrong… I made a terrible mistake…” A heavy silence followed before a low sigh came through the receiver. “Everyone makes mistakes. Don’t beat yourself up over it. “In five days, the agency will arrange a fake death for you. “After that, ‘Olivia’ will cease to exist in this world.” 02 It wasn’t until late into the night that Harrison finally came home. He had changed into a spare dress shirt he kept at his office, so there was no smell of alcohol on him. I was in the living room packing up my textbooks when he wrapped his arms around me from behind. “You waited up for me? “I’m sorry. There was an emergency meeting at the faculty board, it held me up. “I bought you that blind box figure you wanted. The cashier said young girls love these.” It was the aerospace engineering edition I had been eyeing. “I’ll hire someone to build a glass display cabinet so we can put all your little figurines inside. That way, when we have a kid, they won’t mess them up.” Thinking of the baby I had just lost, a wave of hot tears rushed to my eyes. I fought them back desperately, refusing to let him see anything was wrong. “By the way, what did the doctor say at your checkup today? Are you really pregnant?” He looked at me with a probing gaze. I answered calmly: “No, I’m not. The pregnancy test was a false positive.” He let out a microscopic sigh of relief and comforted me gently: “It’s fine. You’re still young. Honestly, I wanted you to enjoy a couple more years of freedom anyway.” He was as gentle as ever. If I hadn’t heard him say “Yes” with my own ears, you could have beaten me to death and I never would have believed that the man who seemingly loved me this much was actively plotting to leave me. I wanted so badly to rip off his mask. I wanted to scream and question him like a madwoman, but suddenly, it all just felt so exhausting. “Harrison, I want a div—” A sudden, sharp cramp pierced my lower abdomen. His phone rang at the exact same time. He shot me a panicked look and hurried into the study. When he came back out, he grabbed his car keys and headed straight for the door. “Honey, there’s an emergency at the university. I have to go over there right now. “You go ahead and get to sleep.” He took my hand, leaning in to give me a goodbye kiss, but froze when he realized how icy my palm was. “Why are you so cold? “Hurry up and get into bed. Drink some hot water.” He left in a rush, not even staying long enough to hear what I was trying to say. The moment the front door clicked shut, I heard his usually composed voice lace with panic: “Don’t worry, I’m almost there.” A violent wave of pain hit me, and I collapsed heavily onto the floor. 03 I was taken to the hospital in an ambulance. The doctor told me the initial abortion procedure was incomplete, and I needed an emergency D&C. After hours of agonizing treatment in the middle of the night, I refused to be admitted to a room. I insisted on going home. I never expected to run into Harrison in the hospital’s main lobby. He was down on one knee in front of a woman. His familiar voice carried a frantic, anxious tone I had never once experienced. “The lights went out—couldn’t you have just called me? “Trying to be a hero and change a lightbulb in the dark… what if you had really injured your leg in the fall? How would you ever dance on stage again?” So, this was the dancer first love he couldn’t forget: Rosalie. Suddenly, it all made sense. Last year, I got hit by an electric scooter in our neighborhood. Harrison had been perfectly calm and rational the entire time, coldly negotiating liability with the other party without losing his composure for a single second. Who he loved and who he didn’t… it was glaringly obvious. “I didn’t want to bother you,” Rosalie choked out, her voice trembling. “Your wife is so young. Young girls get jealous and are hard to please. I didn’t want to make things difficult for you. “You’re married now. I need to get used to a life without you.” A heavy silence swelled in the empty lobby. After a long time, a sigh broke the quiet, followed by a solemn promise: “I am married, yes. But your problems are still my problems. “Don’t worry about my wife. I’ll handle her. “Just don’t try to be brave next time. Thank God it’s only superficial cuts today and you didn’t damage any tendons. “Come on, I’ll take you home.” Rosalie’s eyes were red. “I can’t walk. I want you to carry me on your back.” He hesitated for a fraction of a second, then turned around to face her. And locked eyes with me. I was standing in the corridor, having had no time to hide. He shot up instantly, a flash of panic and suspicion crossing his eyes. “Olivia, what are you doing here? “Are you following me?” 04 Following him? He really knew how to twist the blame. “Is this Olivia?” Rosalie stepped forward with a smile, grabbing my hand. “Harrison talks about you all the time. Wow, you really do look a lot like me. We must have a special connection. “I’m Rosalie. You’ve probably heard my name, right? “I’m so sorry. I took a fall at home, and I just moved back to the city so I don’t really know anyone here. I had to borrow your husband for a tiny bit. You’re not mad, are you?” Harrison was standing behind her, so naturally, he didn’t see the provocation in her eyes. He couldn’t hear her whisper under her breath: “Did you like the gift? Little substitute.” I looked her dead in the eye and smiled. “Mad? Why would I be? A dirty man—you can keep him.” I pulled my hand back, turning to leave. She let out a soft gasp and intentionally bumped against the wall. “Ah! My leg!” Harrison’s face drained of color. He rushed forward to support her. “Did you hit it?” He whipped his head around and glared at me: “Olivia! Is this how I taught you to behave?!” It was the very first time he had ever yelled at me. Just because I had talked back to his precious first love. Yet, when his friends were openly mocking me at the party, he didn’t say a single word to defend me. What exactly was I to him? “Harrison, what are you doing? I’m fine. Olivia is still young, don’t scare her!” Rosalie lightly swatted his arm, turning to comfort me. “Olivia, don’t be mad at him. He just has a bad temper. I’ll scold him for you later.” “You’ll scold him for me?” I let out a dry laugh. “Why don’t you just officially become his wife and sleep with him while you’re at it?” “Olivia!” Harrison grabbed my wrist, gritting his teeth. “What nonsense are you spewing?! Apologize to her.” The grief and anger I had been suppressing all day finally snapped. “Why should I apologize?!” I looked up, interrogating him. “You are my husband! You lied to me, saying there was a work emergency, just so you could take another woman to the hospital in the dead of night! Is that fair? Is that right?! “And what’s this garbage about not knowing anyone in the city? Does she dare swear to God? If she’s lying, I hope she gets hit by a car the second she walks outside—” Smack! A harsh slap landed on my cheek, burning and stinging. Harrison’s hand trembled slightly. It seemed even he didn’t expect himself to lose control like that. He closed his eyes, steadying his breathing, but the words that came out of his mouth were chilling to the bone. “This is my fault. “I’ve spoiled you too much. That’s why you’ve become so narrow-minded, jealous, and vicious.” Smack! He slapped himself hard across the face, looking at me. “Is this enough? Can you stop throwing a tantrum now?” “Harrison, how could you hit yourself?!” Rosalie was frantic, on the verge of tears. “It’s already swelling! How are you going to teach your classes tomorrow?! “Olivia, this is my fault. I shouldn’t have disturbed you two. If you want to hit someone or yell at someone, take it out on me!” “Fine. I’ll grant your wish.” I raised my hand. A massive force shoved me backward. “Olivia, don’t push it!” Harrison looked furious and pained. “Why can’t you just be a little more understanding like Rosalie? Have some grace!” My abdomen hit the cold floor. It should have hurt terribly, but I was so numb I couldn’t feel a thing. The very last shred of residual warmth I had for him evaporated completely in that moment. I looked up at him and smiled. “Harrison, I’ve always wondered… the ‘Rose’ you constantly talk about… who is it, really?” Harrison’s eyes trembled, and he opened his mouth, trying to explain. “Hitting someone right at the hospital entrance?!” An ER doctor getting off shift rushed over to help me up, looking surprised. “Wait, aren’t you the patient who just had the emergency D&C—” “Ah!” A speeding motorcycle zoomed right past Rosalie’s side. Harrison instinctively pulled her into his arms, protecting her tightly. Naturally, he didn’t hear what the doctor said. I gave the doctor a bitter smile and shook my head. The doctor realized what was happening, gave the two of them a look of disgust, spat on the ground, and walked away. It was time for me to go, too. Harrison called my name, making a move to chase after me. But the woman in his arms seemed terrified by the motorcycle. Her legs were weak, and she couldn’t stand steadily. He rushed to support her, and by the time he looked up again, I was already in a taxi, leaving him in the dust. 05 When I got home, I placed the signed divorce papers, the pregnancy ultrasound, and the surgical abortion records on his nightstand. I moved into a hotel without looking back, waiting for the agency to pick me up. But on the day before my departure, Harrison managed to find me. He leaned one hand against the hotel door, looking exhausted and helpless. “Olivia, come home, please? “I didn’t do it on purpose that day. “Rosalie has bipolar disorder. She can’t handle being triggered. I was just afraid you would get hurt, which is why I stopped you from talking. “I promise you, once she secures a job, I will never see her again. “Olivia, please stop torturing me. I’ve been going crazy these past few days.” I knew I shouldn’t let it affect me, but my heart still trembled uncontrollably, a sharp pang of sorrow gripping my chest. This was the man I had loved for my entire youth. After my parents died in a tragic accident, my grandfather, fearing for my safety, entrusted me to his most trusted friend: Harrison. He became my legal guardian. He was the one who sang to me on stormy nights to coax me to sleep; He remembered every single important date in my life; During puberty, he chased away the mean boys who mocked my changing body and told me to hold my head high, that it was a beautiful thing. Falling in love with him had been so easy, so inevitable. “Harrison, have you even been home these past few days?” I asked him. His eyes darted away. “Of course I have. Where else would I sleep? What’s wrong?” I gripped my phone tightly and smiled. “Nothing.” He let out a breath of relief and smiled back. “Then let’s go get some food. We’ll go to that Italian place you love.” I didn’t refuse. I treated it as a final goodbye. Along the way, he talked incessantly, which was incredibly rare. Usually, that was my role. My phone kept buzzing with multimedia messages. [He’s been at my place keeping me company these past few days.] [He said he couldn’t hold back anymore. I had no choice but to give myself to him.] [Fierce as always. So delicious.] Following the texts was a photo of Harrison’s bare torso and a used condom. I placed my phone face-down, covering my mouth as a wave of nausea hit me. “Car sick?” Harrison asked quickly. “Who keeps texting you? Just ignore it.” For a split second, I wanted to shove the phone right in his face. I wanted to see what his expression would be, and what pathetic excuse he would come up with next. But then I realized it was a waste of energy. When you no longer love someone, even holding a grudge feels redundant. At the entrance of the restaurant, his phone rang. Rosalie’s anxious voice came through the line. “Harrison, a water pipe burst at my place! Could you please come help me look at it?” Harrison looked at me, caught in a difficult position. I smiled. “It’s fine. You go ahead.” An emotion I couldn’t quite read surged in his eyes—confusion, maybe panic—but it was quickly replaced by joy. “Thank you, honey. I’ll be right back.” I watched him walk away and answered a call on my own phone. “Alright. Ten minutes from now.” …… The property management was fixing the water pipe. But Harrison’s right eyelid kept twitching, and an inexplicable panic gripped his chest. When it was finally fixed, he hurriedly put on his jacket, anxious to go find his little wife. That was when he realized he had over twenty missed calls on his phone. He called the number back. A sterile, official voice answered. “Is this Mr. Harrison Cole? “Your wife, Mrs. Olivia Cole, passed away in a car accident an hour ago. “She was crushed by a semi-truck in front of the restaurant. The body sustained catastrophic damage and could not be reconstructed. “Because we were unable to reach you, the remains have already been cremated. “Please come to the crematorium to claim her ashes.” 06 Harrison froze as if paralyzed. After a long time, he finally snapped out of his daze and said with a trembling voice: “Impossible. You must have made a mistake. “Olivia is waiting for me to get dinner. How could she be dead…” “We found her ID in your wife’s purse, and the police have verified her identity.” It felt like something in his brain catastrophically collapsed. Harrison’s knees went weak, and he had to lean against the wall to keep from falling. Rosalie rushed over to comfort him. “Harrison, could this be a sick prank? “Maybe she was mad that you came to see me, so she hired people to put on a show to make you worry and apologize. Young girls love this kind of drama.” As if grasping at a lifeline, Harrison’s tone turned desperate and agitated. “Right, right, she must just be playing a joke on me out of anger…” Before he could finish, a video notification popped up on his phone—a young woman was run over and killed by a semi-truck in front of the exact restaurant. Harrison frantically tapped it open. The light faded entirely from his eyes, and he collapsed onto the floor. That was Rose. It was his Rose! She was dead? But just half an hour ago, she had been standing obediently right by his side! Impossible. This couldn’t be real! He needed to see her. This wasn’t true. He had to see her! Harrison bolted out the door like a madman, running toward the crematorium. Inside the facility, the usually composed and dignified Professor Cole looked like an obsessed lunatic, interrogating the staff over and over again: “Who gave you permission to cremate her?! I am her husband! I didn’t sign anything! Who gave you the right to burn her?! “What if she was still alive? What if she could have been saved…” The staff had been sympathetic at first, patiently trying to explain. But eventually, annoyed by his relentless harassment, a worker yelled back: “Stop pretending to be some deeply devoted husband! If you actually cared about your wife, what were you doing when I called you over twenty times?! “I heard a woman in the background telling you not to leave! Drop the act!” Harrison froze, his limbs turning rigid, his face draining of all color. What had he been doing? He had been staring at the maintenance worker fixing Rosalie’s pipe. He heard his phone ring, but thinking it was just telemarketers, he had asked Rosalie to put it on silent for him. If he had known those calls were about Olivia, he would have answered them even if it cost him his life. “Rose… my Rose…” He collapsed to the floor, holding his head as he wailed in absolute agony and despair. She had forgiven him. They had agreed to have lunch together. How could this happen? Rosalie had followed him there. She crouched down and tried to persuade him: “Harrison, don’t be sad. Seeing you like this, little Rose is probably hurting as she watches from heaven. “Little Rose was an angel, sent down to keep you company for a while. Now that I’m back, her mission is complete and she’s gone back. “Her departure… it’s a blessing for us. From now on, I will stay by your side and take care of you…” Harrison looked up, staring at Rosalie in absolute disbelief, as if he were seeing her for the first time. All this time, he had believed she was kind, quiet, and understanding of the bigger picture. He trusted her words unconditionally, feeling a deep, mutual connection with her. But in this moment, he found her foreign and utterly repulsive. “Rosalie, that was my wife! Her ashes aren’t even cold yet, how can you say something so shameless?!” Harrison demanded furiously. “You don’t deserve to speak her name, and you can’t even begin to compare to her! “My only wife is Olivia, and the only person I want to grow old with is her! Not you!” Agony spread through every vein and bone in his body. In this moment, he finally understood the crushing pain Olivia must have felt when she asked him who the real ‘Rose’ was. He wished so desperately that he could turn back time. He wanted to tell her himself that the ‘Rose’ he spoke of was her, only her. He loved her! But he had allowed himself to be blinded by the past, hurting her again and again. Having never been yelled at by him before, Rosalie’s eyes turned red. “Harrison, I just wanted to comfort you! The dead can’t come back to life. How can you yell at me for a dead substitute?! “Was anything I said wrong? Didn’t you only marry her because she looked like me? “Isn’t this perfect? Now you don’t even have to bother divorcing her. Let’s go get our marriage license tomorrow, okay?” “Shut your mouth!” Harrison exploded with rage. “Who wants to marry you?! I am Olivia’s husband, I…” “The one who should shut their mouth is you!” A stern, merciless voice cut him off. “What right do you have to call yourself Olivia’s husband?!” Harrison whipped his head around. His furious face instantly stiffened, replaced by pain, guilt, and finally, he dropped to his knees. It was my grandfather.

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I was the professional “lapdog” to Julian Sterling, the heir to the Sterling empire. When he pretended to be poor to test my affection, I played along. When he went on dates while pretending to be broke, I was his lookout. Then, high school ended. His “poor” first love went abroad to pursue her dreams. I became Julian’s official placeholder girlfriend. He told me plainly: when his true love comes back, I step aside. So I waited. And waited. I went from his girlfriend to his fiancée, and almost from his fiancée to his wife. Finally. Right before our wedding. Julian flew across the world and brought his first love back. I slipped off my engagement ring and let out a long sigh of relief. As I left, I even thoughtfully closed the door behind them. 01 When I heard that Julian had chartered a private jet overnight to bring her back, I wasn’t surprised. After all, it was Chloe Vance. When my best friend heard the news, she was furious: “You guys were about to get married! Has he lost his mind?!” No, he hadn’t. Chloe Vance was currently one of the hottest rising fashion designers in the industry. And it was an open secret that she was Julian Sterling’s first love. Reporters had even asked her about it directly. Chloe had replied: “Regardless of who someone’s first love is, I got to where I am today through my own hard work.” “Please focus less on tabloid gossip and more on my designs.” But just last week. Chloe was suddenly hit with a massive plagiarism scandal. A stunning, star-studded dress that she claimed as her own. Turned out to be stolen from an unknown indie designer. The scandal blew up. Chloe posted a dramatic update on her social media: [Are you all trying to drive me to my death?] That morning, Julian had been glued to his phone through breakfast. He was supposed to attend a crucial contract signing with a new supplier that day. He had casually agreed to give the contract to my dad’s company. But because Julian didn’t show up, the VP seized the opportunity and gave the contract to his own relative instead. My dad was so furious he called me ten times to scream at me. I tried calling Julian, but he didn’t answer. By the third attempt, his phone was turned off. When I finally saw Julian again. It was 11:00 PM. He told me to come to one of his vacant luxury properties. I had never been to this specific house before. As soon as I walked through the front doors, I saw the courtyard was filled with pink roses. The exact flowers Julian used to give Chloe. The sports car stuffed with pink roses—that was the extravagant scene from the day Julian had originally confessed his love to her. The interior decor wasn’t Julian’s usual pretentious, ultra-modern, minimalist style either. Thinking about it, it was exactly Chloe’s taste. Approaching the master bedroom, I heard a woman crying softly. The scene inside was pretty much exactly what I had imagined. A pale-faced woman was sitting on the edge of the bed, crying beautifully, a bandage wrapped around her wrist. A tall man stood beside the bed, looking utterly lost and helpless. His usually immaculate, custom-tailored suit was wrinkled. The only thing keeping him looking somewhat put-together was a face that rivaled a runway model’s. I didn’t understand why Julian had called me here. Courier services exist for a reason. He turned and looked at me, his eyes seemingly lighting up. I knew that look all too well. It was the exact same look he gave me back in high school when he and Chloe were secretly dating in the woods behind the school and almost got caught by the principal. “Chloe gets embarrassed easily. You take the blame for her.” Whenever he didn’t know what gift to buy Chloe, or when he somehow made her angry and didn’t know how to fix it, he would give me that exact look, expecting me to come up with a solution. I usually couldn’t come up with any good ideas. In the end, Chloe would usually just kick both of us out. She would yell at Julian, saying he only had his stupid money, and she’d call me his pathetic little lapdog. I would just roll my eyes and say, “Sidekick, sidekick. Lapdog sounds so ugly.” Julian would laugh at that. But in the end, Chloe always accepted Julian’s money anyway. Chloe dreamed of being a fashion designer. Back in high school. For a birthday gift Julian gave her, she had to work three months of part-time jobs just to buy him something of similar value in return. Unlike me, who took his gifts faster than a cheetah and constantly hoped some extra cash would slip through his fingers. Later, Chloe bombed her SATs. She ran up to the school roof, threatening to jump. Julian cried and begged her to come down, promising he would make her dreams come true. He sent her abroad. The Sterling family was incredibly wealthy. While not the absolute top 1%, they were still far beyond ordinary rich. Behind his family’s back, Julian tapped into the trust fund he gained access to when he turned eighteen. He spent millions to get Chloe into a prestigious design school in Paris. Honestly, I had always suspected Chloe only got close to Julian for his money. But then again. So did I. Lapdogs do it for free. Sidekicks charge an appearance fee. 02 That year, when the truth came out about what Julian did with his trust fund. He was beaten until he was black and blue, and then forced into an arranged marriage. Old Mr. Sterling declared: “The girl you marry will be from a family of equal standing!” But Julian refused to marry anyone other than Chloe. So, he came up with a terrible idea. He brought me back to his strict grandfather’s traditional estate and orchestrated a scene where the maids “caught” us exploring the mysteries of youth. He had dragged me toward the bed in a frantic rush. It scared the hell out of me. At the time, I had just turned eighteen. I was dizzy with the moment, actually foolishly believing he liked me. A few minutes later, the bedroom door was slammed open. Seeing a massive crowd of people standing outside the door, my face drained of color in terror. I frantically pulled the blanket up to cover myself. The humiliation and shame of that moment nearly drowned me. But it was nothing compared to what Julian said next. He announced proudly: “Hazel is my girlfriend! She’s the daughter of the Hayes family!” “She initiated it! She took my shirt off for me!” I have always been smart. If I wasn’t smart, I wouldn’t have been the only illegitimate child my father ever brought into the Hayes household. I instantly understood Julian’s little trick. He was using me as a human shield. Not only that, but he was using my “scandalous” behavior to highlight how pure and virtuous Chloe was by comparison. He was basically telling his family: Look, this is the kind of girl from an ‘equal standing’ family you want me to marry. Barely eighteen, and she’s already doing things like this in the elder’s house. Sure enough. The moment we were alone. He stated matter-of-factly: “Hazel, you know who I really love.” “When Chloe comes back, you leave. Don’t worry, I won’t treat you badly financially.” A young girl’s dignity isn’t worth much. But his love for Chloe was worth a fortune. So, I traded my dignity for a very large sum of money. I nodded. Julian was very satisfied, sighing: “I knew you were obedient. Easy to deal with.” So now, it was time for him to “deal” with me. 03 No wonder. No wonder Julian had randomly transferred half a million dollars to me this morning. I actually thought he was giving it to me for our “dating” anniversary. The day after tomorrow marked five years since we “started dating.” I felt incredibly guilty after receiving the half a million. Because I hadn’t prepared a single thing for him, and I certainly wasn’t going to transfer money back to him. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to spend money on him. It was mainly because he didn’t need it. And, obviously, I was cheap. So, I had carefully selected a high-end French restaurant. I booked the entire place. I even planned to play a slideshow. I had several major projects on my plate at the time, so I had stayed up all night to put the slideshow together. I had just finished it and sent it to the restaurant right before Julian called me over here. The slideshow documented all the little moments of our last five years. Going to college together. I answered roll call for him while he slept on the desk next to me. When the professor questioned me, I shamelessly said: “I’m his future wife. We are one entity, so me answering for him is the same thing.” The whole lecture hall had erupted in cheers. Traveling together. He loved extreme sports: skydiving, black-diamond snowboarding. His rich trust-fund friends valued their lives too much to join him, so I was the only one willing to risk my neck to keep him company. Afterward, my legs would be shaking so badly I almost collapsed. When the world was spinning, he pulled me into his arms. Moving in together. We watched TV together, went grocery shopping together, cooked together… Well, I cooked, and he ate. Julian hated having maids around, and he didn’t like hiring cleaning services either. I don’t know when it started, but he eventually started volunteering to wash the dishes. The memories ended there. I was just wondering if I could still get a refund from that French restaurant for tomorrow night. Julian frowned at me: “What took you so long?” Having not slept for two days straight, I was feeling a bit dizzy and seeing spots. Chloe looked up at me. “Are you… Hazel?” I smiled and greeted her. She wiped her tears and said: “I’m sorry you had to see me looking like such a mess.” “I’m sorry to trouble you, but Julian said you’re really good at taking care of people…” I looked at Julian. Julian said naturally: “You take care of her.” “She hasn’t eaten in two days. Make her something to eat. And her clothes are too thin, go buy her a change of clothes…” As Julian rattled off his demands, I just kept nodding, nodding, nodding. I said: “Yes, sir. No problem. Received. I’m on it right now.” My obedient, compliant response suddenly left Julian speechless. I was taking notes on my phone. When I heard silence, I looked up at him, confused. “Is that all? Ju… Mr. Sterling.” I almost slipped up and called him by his first name. Calling him “Julian” was something he had specifically told me to do back when we were putting on the act for his grandfather. There were too many occasions where we had to pretend. He specifically allowed me to use that name, and I eventually just got used to it. But now that Chloe was back, if I kept calling him that and she got jealous, Julian would absolutely destroy me. Julian’s gaze was heavy. Seeing that he seemed to be finished, I turned to walk out. Julian suddenly shouted: “Hazel, stop right there!” He startled me. I turned back to him, putting on my best sycophantic smile: “Mr. Sterling, do you have any other orders?” Julian’s expression looked awful. He seemed to grind out every single word through his teeth: “Do you not have anything you want to ask me?” Ask what? Julian glared at me. He was so angry his cheeks were slightly puffed out, his jawline clenched tight. He looked like a very handsome toad. I thought about it for a second, then asked: “What is Ms. Vance’s clothing size?” Actually, I could tell by looking at her. She was probably a size Small. She was even thinner than she was in high school. I don’t know if she was trying to fit the aesthetic of the European fashion scene, or if she just hadn’t been living well these past few years. Or maybe both. Unlike me. I ate well, slept well, and was a solid two sizes bigger than I was back then. I’m 5’3″ and weigh about 130 pounds. When my friends told me to lose weight, I told them this is what prosperity looks like. I grew up poor; I like looking like I have money now. If I lost weight and hired male models, it would just be a waste of good money on them. Julian laughed. But it was a dark, menacing laugh. He said: “Hazel, you are unbelievable.” “Hey! Thank you, Mr. Sterling!” 04 I bought several sets of luxury designer clothes. From underwear to outerwear, head to toe, I got everything. I also called the French restaurant. When they told me the fifty-thousand-dollar deposit was non-refundable, I almost had a heart attack. I tried to negotiate with them: “Can I just get half back?” “I’m sorry, ma’am, but no.” I said: “Then how about this: I’m not coming tomorrow night, but you can just cook the food and deliver it to me right now.” “Make whatever, but make sure it’s good.” “The address is in the Eastside Estates…” After handling the food and clothes, I double-checked to see if I missed anything. And I did find a glaring omission. A full belly leads to other desires. I went online and ordered some 0.01mm ultra-thin protection. I guessed the size. Smallest available. Hopefully, it fits. If it didn’t, he couldn’t blame me. It’s not like Julian ever showed me. When I got back to the villa, Chloe seemed to have cried herself to sleep. Her eyes were closed, her hand gripping Julian’s sleeve tightly. Julian was in the exact same position he had been in when I left. He had just stayed by her side, barely moving an inch. When I pushed the door open, Julian was leaning down, about to steal a kiss from Chloe. Wait. Couldn’t he wait until she woke up? Was he really that desperate? It scared me so much I almost walked in backward. I quickly shut my mouth tight. After thinking about it, I quietly placed the “essentials” on the floor inside the bedroom. Then, I gently pulled the door shut. Before leaving, I sent Julian a text: [Mr. Sterling, I left the clothes and food in the living room.] [You can come out and get them when you guys are finished.] While typing that message, I couldn’t help but see our previous texts. It was a message Julian had sent me while he was at work. He was complaining to me about the old executives on the board of his company. Then he whined and asked me to go bungee jumping with him, said he was going to take me to Miami to see the ocean the day after tomorrow, and that we were going to Aspen to ski at the end of the year to de-stress from work. Perhaps because the future is so uncertain. People always love to make plans for it. I had replied with one word: [Received]. He had gotten annoyed and sent a sticker of an angry kitten. I searched for a long time before finding a sticker of someone petting a kitten’s head to send back. Afraid he was actually mad, I added: [What do you want for dinner?] But calculating the time, he probably saw the news about Chloe right around then, and he never replied. An abruptly ended conversation seemed to be the perfect announcement for an impending breakup. It started my freshman year of high school and ended the second year after I graduated college. I couldn’t help but feel a little nostalgic. Julian was overbearing, childish, selfish, and stupid. But there was no denying he wasn’t a bad guy, and he was very generous. At his engagement banquet. He had a bit to drink and proudly declared: “Hazel, I’ll allow you to stay by my side forever.” For a while, I genuinely thought we were actually going to get married. Looking at it now, I had definitely misunderstood. The cold, hard numbers in my bank account were the only things that truly warmed my heart. I took off the engagement ring I had been wearing and gently placed it on the living room table. Funny how things work out. I told the French restaurant they didn’t need to follow my custom menu, just to make whatever. But they kept the cake I had ordered. Written on it was— [Julian, Happy 5th Anniversary!] My engagement ring was left right next to the cake. 05 Julian’s lips stopped inches away from Chloe’s face. For some reason, he suddenly didn’t want to kiss her anymore. Even though the person he had thought about for years was right in front of his eyes. Julian thought it was because he respected Chloe. Chloe was no longer the poor student she used to be. For the past four years, Julian had flown to her for every single one of her birthdays. To celebrate with her, to introduce her to resources. But nothing had ever happened between them. Back then, Chloe explicitly told him she wasn’t coming back to the US, and she didn’t want to hold him back. Julian stubbornly replied: “Who’s waiting for you? I’m already with Hazel!” Chloe had smiled and said: “With her by your side, I can rest easy.” “She’s your lapdog. She’ll definitely take good care of you.” “Julian, even though we can’t be together, I want you to be happy more than anyone else in the world.” Julian’s anger instantly evaporated. This was the most tragic, yet beautiful, form of love, wasn’t it? Even though they couldn’t be together, they still held the number one spot in each other’s hearts. Chloe was meant to soar. He had to let her fly free. Chloe was like a rose Julian had cultivated with his own hands. She had fought so hard to grow out of the mud, and she deserved to bloom brilliantly for the whole world to see. He couldn’t trap her by his side. He should only be the rain that waters her when she needs him. That was the philosophy he had gradually come to accept. He only needed a greedy, materialistic woman like Hazel by his side. He couldn’t give her his heart, but he could give her marriage, money, and status. That’s how high-society marriages worked anyway. Just like the anniversary transfer he sent her a few days ago. His friend had suggested he transfer $520,000 (a romantic number in Chinese internet slang), but he thought that was too cheesy and unnecessary. Hazel, who normally wouldn’t even be fit to tie Chloe’s shoes, should be satisfied with what she got. Thinking of Hazel, Julian felt an inexplicable surge of annoyance. Even though his relationship with Chloe was completely platonic, was Hazel really not jealous at all? No. Hazel must be angry. That’s why she deliberately called him “Mr. Sterling.” His friends always teased him about how submissive Hazel was. “Julian really knows how to train a wife. Unlike my tiger wife at home. If I so much as glance at another woman, she blows up.” “When Chloe finally comes back, I bet Hazel wouldn’t even mind being the side piece, right?” “Side piece? I’d say she’s more like a loyal maid. If Julian hooks up with someone, she’d probably be the one handing him the condom!” Julian never argued with them. Because that’s exactly how it was. Just then. Julian saw the notification on his phone. It was Hazel letting him know she had come and gone. He casually glanced toward the bedroom door. Julian shot up, staring in disbelief, and walked over to pick up the small box on the floor. He squeezed the box until it deformed. Hazel had even prepared this for him. This was exactly the scenario his friends had joked about. But when it actually happened, Julian suddenly felt incredibly angry. A suffocating, irritable emotion filled his chest. Chloe woke up and saw the box in Julian’s hand. While she blushed, a flash of triumph crossed her eyes. “Julian, please don’t do this.” “I texted you to take me away, it didn’t mean anything else. I’m so sorry if I gave you the wrong impression…” But before she could finish, she watched Julian throw the small box into the trash can. Chloe’s expression stiffened. Julian said: “Do I look like that kind of animal to you?” Chloe quietly let out a sigh of relief. So, Julian hadn’t lost feelings for her. He just cherished her too much. Julian continued: “Besides, you still have to go back to Europe to build your career. How could I possibly get in the way of that?” Chloe’s face turned ugly for a fraction of a second. She tested the waters: “What if… I wasn’t planning on going back…” Before she could finish, Julian interrupted her: “Don’t lie to me. Don’t I know you? You’re someone who chases their dreams. You’re not like those women who only care about getting married and having babies.” Chloe swallowed the words she was about to say. Julian brought out the clothes Hazel had bought. Chloe looked at the clothes with a troubled expression. Julian took one look at the brand and instantly understood. He sent Hazel a text: [Chloe doesn’t like the design philosophy of this brand. She won’t wear their clothes. Go buy another set.] Julian then took Chloe out to the dining area. Looking at the table full of lavish French cuisine, Chloe frowned again. Julian sent another text to Hazel: [Chloe doesn’t eat heavy food that makes you gain weight. She just got back from abroad and doesn’t want Western food either. Go to that authentic local spot I like, get some takeout, and bring it over.] Chloe said, sounding incredibly understanding: “It’s fine. I can eat this.” Julian looked at Chloe’s pale face, his eyes full of pity. He thought for a moment, then sent another text to Hazel: [Chloe’s not feeling well. I’m taking her out to clear her head. Just to the mountains nearby. We’ll be back before our anniversary.] The person who usually replied instantly sent nothing back. Annoyed, Julian called Hazel. The phone was turned off. Had she… blocked him? Suddenly. He saw the cake on the dining table. The words on the cake made him freeze. Why did she just leave the anniversary cake here like this? A diamond caught the light and sparkled. And then, Julian saw the ring sitting next to the cake. 06 The weather was beautiful today. Perfect for traveling. Perfect for moving. Having collected my five-million-dollar severance package, I moved out with lightning speed. I guaranteed Chloe wouldn’t see my face when she woke up. I booked an executive suite at a five-star hotel and fell asleep the moment my head hit the pillow. Before sleeping, I even posted a melodramatic update on social media, announcing my breakup with Julian. When I woke up. I realized my phone had died and shut off. When I turned it back on, the notification chimes didn’t stop for a solid minute. Julian had sent me a ton of messages and left several missed calls. I skimmed through them. [Hazel, what is this supposed to mean? Throwing a tantrum now?] [Are you mad because I made you take care of Chloe?] [When I got there, Chloe was lying in the bathtub with a slashed wrist! Do you have any empathy at all?] He also sent a picture. The engagement ring I left behind had been thrown into the trash can. Along with the 5th-anniversary cake. … My eyes landed on the very last message— [If you’re so tough, then don’t ever come back!] Oh. Okay. So he was telling me not to come back. I felt completely justified in not returning Julian’s calls. But soon enough, I saw a new update from Julian on social media. The scandal surrounding Chloe’s plagiarism had blown up internationally and reached the US. The indie designer she had plagiarized, despite going by the pseudonym Sirius, was actually American. And he had just returned to the States. A blurry paparazzi photo from the airport circulated online. Black hair, green eyes, 6’2″, devastatingly handsome. The photo was quickly scrubbed from the internet, suggesting his background was quite powerful. Right in the middle of this storm. Julian posted an update: [Ants always love to see the swan suffer.] The comments were almost entirely mocking, with a few hardcore shippers mixed in. But mostly, it was just normal internet users. Sirius also posted an update: [The blind man plucked the moon from the sky, but didn’t know how to cherish it.] [So, I’m back to chase the moon again.] It was cryptic. No one really understood it. Some speculated it had nothing to do with the plagiarism scandal. After all, he wasn’t even the one who made the original post providing irrefutable proof of Chloe’s plagiarism. This post sounded more like an ambitious declaration of intent to steal someone’s girl. [Did the poster return to the US to pursue someone he likes?] The creator liked that comment. Immediately after, someone discovered that this account had posted a location tag a long time ago. It was the exact same high school Chloe attended. Someone suspected: [The poster is so forgiving… could the person he’s pursuing be Chloe?] The shippers had a field day for the first time: [The Poster: I did all of this just so you would finally notice me!] [We’ve been hating on this plagiarist for so long, and it turns out it was just a twisted lovers’ quarrel?] The comment section was a chaotic mess. But Sirius never reappeared to clarify anything. Chloe, who had been hiding like a turtle in its shell for days, suddenly popped her head out. She posted: [You cannot force love. Trying to scoop the moon’s reflection from the water will only push the real moon further away.] Suddenly, a bunch of accounts sprang up, all pushing the same narrative: The “moon” Sirius was talking about was Chloe. That dress was designed specifically for Chloe. Sirius was using the wrong method to pursue Chloe, using the false plagiarism accusation to get her attention. And so on. Meanwhile. In the hotel lobby. Someone suddenly called out to me— 07 The blurry image from the phone materialized into a high-definition real person right in front of me. Mixed-race features. A strong nose, a sharp jawline, broad shoulders, and a narrow waist. A simple black t-shirt couldn’t hide the defined muscle lines of his chest and abdomen. Veins popped on his arms. His slightly curly black hair seemed styled with wax, and his incredibly long legs demanded attention. He had a cocky expression. A total bad boy. He raised an eyebrow at me and said: “What a coincidence. You’re staying here too.” After a brief moment of shock, I blurted out in surprise: “You’re—” That exquisite face froze for a second before his green eyes filled with immense joy. “You remember me? I thought you had forgotten me a long time ago…” I blurted out: “You’re Sirius!” The pedestrians nearby heard me and turned to look. Someone even pulled out their phone and started a video call: “Wife, I’m at that hotel where you helped your bestie catch her cheating husband. I think there’s a celebrity here. Take a look, do you recognize him? Should I go get an autograph for you?” Sirius: “…” I quickly apologized: “I’m so sorry for causing a scene.” He instinctively shook his head: “It’s fine…” “Let me buy you dinner to make up for it.” He said: “…Actually, it was quite a scene.” And just like that. We ended up sitting in a small diner down the street. When the waiter asked about dietary restrictions, he said: “No cilantro, extra spicy.” I casually remarked: “You have the exact same taste as me.” “We’re pretty compatible.” He seemed to smile secretly to himself. That was the first time I thought we had met by the river. Later. Maybe it really was destiny. I kept running into Ethan River. Once, near my new apartment, he was out for a run. Sweat dripped down his sharp jawline, radiating pure testosterone. Another time, at a bookstore I used to frequent in high school. He was there too, dressed fashionably, but giving off a very peaceful vibe. Another time, at my company, the sales department brought in a major client. … By the seventh “coincidental” encounter. I stopped him. Before he could casually act like he had just bumped into me again, I said— “Ethan River, do you have a crush on me?” As soon as the words left my mouth. The man in front of me widened his eyes. His pale skin started turning bright red, starting from his neck and creeping all the way up his face.

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When we were intimate, my boyfriend loved to take off my glasses. He said he adored the way my eyes half-closed, heavy with passion. Until the day I overheard him bragging to his friends. “She can’t see a damn thing without them. By the time she realizes what’s happening, it’s too late to stop me. She just takes it. “Trust me, it’s non-stop action, start to finish.” One of them asked, laughing, how he’d finally managed to lock her down. Caleb just gave a mysterious smirk. “Conservative girls are all the same. They only give themselves to a guy they think is serious about marrying them. “I bought a huge, beat-up fixer-upper entirely in cash. I put only Maya’s name on the deed. “She was so incredibly moved. She thinks I bet my entire net worth on her. How could she possibly say no to me after that?” 01 I was working a side gig as a wedding planner at my best friend’s agency, trying to save up money for my own wedding. Today, I was at a hotel downtown to meet a VIP client. While waiting in the lobby bar, I heard a man ask in a flippant tone: “Hey Caleb, aren’t you done with your ‘Cinderella charity project’ yet? “Your merger with the Sterling family is set. The wedding date is practically here.” Instinctively, I turned my head slightly. Caleb. That was my boyfriend’s name. But my Caleb was just a sales rep for a medical device company, not some rich heir talking about corporate mergers. But the next moment, a terrifyingly familiar voice came drifting over. “What’s the rush? I still have a month. “Besides, I’m having a hard time letting Maya go.” In an instant, it felt as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped over my head. I went entirely numb. Maya. That was me. The other man snorted. “Don’t tell me you actually fell for her?” Caleb took a slow, indifferent sip of his drink. “Let’s not get crazy. It’s just a strictly physical arrangement. A contract. “And besides…” Caleb lowered his voice, thick with locker-room bravado. “She’s blind as a bat. Can’t see a thing without her glasses… I can pull moves on her she can’t stop in time. She just takes it. “Trust me, it’s non-stop action, start to finish.” His friend burst out laughing. “That girl was hunted hard by Liam Miller back in the day. He sent her a Maserati, a couple of Birkins, and he still couldn’t get her to lay a glove on her. “I heard she was pure as snow. How the hell did you pull off a grand slam right out of the gate?” Caleb smirked, looking insufferably proud. “Conservative girls only give themselves to a guy they think is serious about marrying them. “I bought a huge, beat-up fixer-upper entirely in cash. I put only Maya’s name on the deed. “She was so incredibly moved. She thinks I bet my entire net worth on her. How could she possibly say no to me after that? “It’s like leadin’ a donkey… you just need a really big, shiny carrot dangling right in front of its nose. “Giving her a car or a bag doesn’t prove you want to marry her. But paying cash for a house? That’s the carrot.” Saying this, Caleb checked his watch, looking annoyed. He turned to a man who looked like his assistant. “Where is Ms. Sterling? Didn’t we say we were meeting the wedding planner together?” I froze. The VIP client I was supposed to meet today… her last name was Sterling. Within seconds, Caleb was grabbing his jacket, swinging it over his shoulder. “I’m busy. I have to run. Tell Chloe Sterling to do whatever she wants, it’s all on her.” As he walked away, he barked an order to his driver. “Go to that bakery on the South side. The one trending on TikTok.” One of the friends with him teased: “Don’t have time to plan your wedding with your fiancée, but you have time to go out of your way to buy Cinderella a cheap little gourmet cupcake.” Caleb shoved him playfully. “Shut up.” Then he sighed, a note of genuine regret in his voice. “Honestly, if she didn’t have that bad eyesight… I don’t want a son inheriting those nearsighted genes. “Otherwise, even if my parents hated it, I might have fought for her. “What a waste…” 02 I sat there, stunned, rooted to the spot. My mind raced back to this morning when we woke up. The kiss Caleb had pressed to my forehead before he got out of bed. At the time, I had blushed and pushed him away. “I didn’t like what you did last night… Don’t do it again.” Caleb had stroked my hair, smiling. “Okay. Never again.” “You said that last time!” Caleb wasn’t angry. He just chuckled. “Well, what can I do? Maybe I should just redo it the way my Maya likes it, one more time?” My face was so hot I felt like my neck was turning red. “Shut up! Don’t you have to go into work early? Go!” Caleb dramatically checked his watch. “Yeah, I really gotta go, or I’ll lose my attendance bonus this month. “I have to keep saving up to get my Maya a real house. One with high ceilings and floor-to-ceiling windows.” For the hundredth time, I had told him that I loved our current house. Even though it was old and a total fixer-upper, it felt like home. “Honestly, you didn’t have to put only my name on the deed. It was your money. “If your parents ever find out, they’re going to be so upset with you.” Caleb, fully dressed now, gave me a perfect “goodbye kiss.” “Why shouldn’t I? “If, God forbid, I’m ever not around, at least I know you’ll always have a sanctuary.” I chided him for talking about such bad luck. But I never imagined he was telling the truth. The prince was eventually going back to his castle to marry the princess. And Cinderella was still here, working a stupid side gig, trying to save enough money to buy furniture for a home that was nothing but a lie. 03 A cold, composed female voice snapped me out of my memories. “My apologies. I’m late. “I’m Chloe Sterling.” The woman in front of me wore a crisp white pantsuit. Her hair was perfectly styled, cascading over her shoulder. Her features were elegant and gentle, and her face held a sincere expression of regret. Chloe took a beautifully packaged bottle of perfume out of her bag and handed it to me. “A small token of appreciation for being willing to wait for me.” I looked down at the perfume. It was a luxury designer brand. This tiny 30ml bottle cost over three hundred dollars. I was about to refuse when Chloe’s friend arrived, fuming. “That damn Caleb just left. Left a message saying the wedding budget is three million, but you can go over if you need to. “Said you should do whatever you like. “He can’t even find the time to meet with his own wedding planner. How much could he possibly love you?” Chloe forced the perfume into my hand, her tone casual, almost bored. “What does love have to do with anything? This is a merger. “I don’t care about his pre-wedding life. As long as he behaves after the vows. “Worst case scenario, even if he cheats after we’re married, I’ll be popping champagne to celebrate. “I lose one useless husband, and the Sterling family gains at least a thirty percent share in the Sterling-Vance partnership. It’s a hell of a deal.” Initially, I was hesitating, wondering if I should tell her the truth. But after hearing that, I silently swallowed it down. So, this was the world of the ultra-rich? Love didn’t matter at all. Only profit was eternal. Chloe called over a waiter and ordered some light lunch and desserts. Then she finally turned her focus back to me. “Maya Price, correct? I’ve seen your portfolio. It has a lot of soul. “It’s exactly the style I’m looking for. “This file lists my basic requirements for the wedding. Please take a look.” Her demands were explicit. Venue: The Bulgari Hotel. Full buyout of the premises on the wedding day. Dinner service at $2,000 per person, with an expected guest count of 500. The wedding theme was “Calla Lilies.” I studied the details closely, offering a professional suggestion: “Moving in a full week early for setup will incur a massive fee from the hotel. Honestly, it’s not strictly necessary. “Three days should be enough. My team can work in shifts to get the setup finished on time. “From a cost-effective perspective…” When I looked up, Chloe was smiling at me. Suddenly, I realized what I was doing. “Cost-effective” was a phrase that simply didn’t exist in her vocabulary. I said in a small voice: “My apologies. A week early it is.” At that moment, the waiter brought our lunch. Instinctively, I moved my files from the table to my chair so I wouldn’t interfere with her eating. But Chloe pushed a plate towards me. “Eat.” I looked up, surprised. Chloe tilted her chin, gesturing for me to accept it without ceremony. “You look terribly pale. Is it low blood sugar? Eat something first.” 04 After finishing our meeting, I walked alone down a sun-dappled, tree-lined avenue, clutching my phone. I dialed my best friend, Mia. The emotions I’d been suppressing finally broke through. My voice was thick with tears. “Caleb is marrying someone else.” Mia seemed to be busy with something and said casually, “Then dump him. Onto the next.” “But Caleb and I… we’ve already been… intimate.” By the end, my voice was barely a whisper. I could practically feel Mia rolling her eyes on the other end. “And? So! What! “You are so archaic sometimes, Maya. “Okay, look.” After I finished telling her the whole story, Mia was silent for a long time. Finally, she said tentatively, “Maya… how about… we finish this contract first? “I’m not just trying to make a buck, okay? I’m thinking about you. “Why should you let him make a fool out of you and get nothing? “Ms. Sterling explicitly said that if she’s happy with the final result, she’s willing to pay an additional $30,000 bonus on top of the standard agency fee. “This deal… after subtracting the agency’s operating costs, I’m giving you the rest of the profit. “Don’t be stupid, Maya. Besides love, you still need to pay your bills.” Ultimately, I agreed. Caleb, I will plan an absolute masterpiece of a wedding for you. 05 When I got home that night, Caleb was in the kitchen making soup. When he saw me come in, he was all smiles. “Hey babe! The pork ribs were thirty percent off at the store today, so I bought some to make that soup you like. “Just relax for a second, it’s almost ready.” I couldn’t help but let a mocking curl twist the corner of my mouth. How can a person be so mentally fractured? A man spending three million on a wedding, getting excited over discounted pork ribs? Caleb carefully brought the soup out. “Drink it while it’s hot.” I wasn’t in the mood and just took one listless spoonful. “Too salty. And it tastes gamey.” Caleb froze for a second. Usually when he cooked, I’d be full of guilty love, chiding him for working all day and then coming home to cook, and I’d devour every last drop. I had never, not once, said it wasn’t good. This was the first time. Caleb, good-tempered as always, took the bowl away. “Then don’t drink it. What do you want? I’ll order Uber Eats.” “Not hungry. Eat it yourself.” He tentatively asked me, “Bad day at work?” I lowered my eyes. “I’m just… tired.” Caleb immediately started massaging my shoulders. “Why does your company make you work on weekends? Quit. Don’t go back.” He had no idea I was moonlighting as a wedding planner. As he massaged, his hands began to wander. I firmly grabbed his hand and shoved a doctor’s note into it. “I have a ovarian cyst that ruptured. The doctor said no physical intimacy for at least a month.” The note was a fake, of course. I just didn’t want to give him a “breakup lay.” Part of me was even hoping this would force his hand, make him come clean and end this charade. But Caleb just frowned, looking genuinely concerned. “I really hurt you? “I’m so sorry… “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.” Me: “???” This was not going the way I had planned. 06 Caleb really did start taking care of me. He researched instructions online, reminding me every day to take my meds and rest, and he took over all the household chores. He even wanted to go with me to the hospital for my follow-up appointment. I refused, using embarrassment as an excuse. Are you kidding?! He’d find out the truth in five minutes. At the same time, Chloe Sterling’s wedding planning was moving along perfectly. She was thrilled with my concept. “Maya, your concept is even more stunning than I anticipated.” I just smiled and didn’t say a word. I had used a few of my favorite, personal design ideas for this. I had originally wanted to use them for my wedding with Caleb. They were useless to me now, so I might as well throw them into this “wedding of the century” without a shred of sentiment. While Chloe’s friend was marveling at the designs, she was also getting increasingly furious. “Caleb is out of control. Is he really just a ghost groom? “He hasn’t shown his face once.” Chloe didn’t seem to care. “He’s a man. He doesn’t want to waste time on trivialities. Let him be.” I suddenly, for no reason at all, thought back to when we had just bought our fixer-upper house. Caleb had been so excited. We used to spend every weekend wandering through Ikea and antique shops. Everything from the wallpaper and tiles down to a single lamp or tissue box was something we had personally chosen together. At the time, I really thought I had dug up a treasure of a man. Now that I thought about it, it was just a rich boy playing “house” for a few months. 07 Seven days until the wedding. The setup crew arrived at the Bulgari. Six days until the wedding. The officiant arrived. It was a celebrity host from a major network. I heard he was an old family friend of the Sterlings and was officiating as a personal favor. I listened to his walkthrough. He was excellent. Not overly sappy, yet intimate and heartwarming. Five days until the wedding. I personally “built” a rainbow in the center of the hall. It was made from over sixty miles of custom-ordered colored silk threads from Belgium. In the twenty-five-foot-high hall space, I was putting them up one by one, right there on site. From the color matching to the gradient fading, I didn’t let anyone else touch it. It took me two full days and nights to finish. A “shimmer” of light that wasn’t a rainbow, but something better, cascaded down from the skylight into the hall, creating a dazzling array of colors. Chloe stood there staring at it for a long, long time. There seemed to be tears shimmering in her eyes. “What do you call this design?” I stared blankly for a long moment before answering in a low voice, ” The Rainbow Connection. ” Chloe forced a smile and looked at me. “On the wedding day, I’m going to throw the bouquet to you.” I was about to gracefully refuse when I heard Caleb’s voice from across the hall: “That rainbow is incredible. Who did that?” Chloe went to meet him. “What are you doing here today?” Caleb pulled out his phone to take a picture of the rainbow, muttered a couple of dismissive pleasantries to his fiancée, and then immediately started typing on his phone. A second later, my phone vibrated. It was a message from Caleb, with a picture attached: [Babe, check out the venue setup for my company’s anniversary event. Isn’t it gorgeous?] At almost the exact same moment, Caleb heard the notification sound from behind the screen and frowned, walking towards me. “Is someone behind there?” 08 Chloe smiled and answered: “That’s our wedding planner. That rainbow is actually her masterpiece. “Want me to introduce you?” Caleb stared intently at the screen, walking closer, step by step. Chloe was looking at him with confusion. The next moment, Caleb yanked the screen away, but there was no one behind it. Mia poked her head around the other side. “If you have any requests, you can talk to me, Mr. Vance. I’m the agency owner. “The planner had an emergency and had to leave.” Caleb snapped back to reality. “Nothing. I just remembered I have a meeting. I gotta go.” With that, he turned and ran out of there, practically sprinting. Once we knew he was gone, Mia looked at her phone. “He’s gone.” I said gratefully, “Thanks.” That night, Caleb came home. As soon as he closed the door, he cuddled up to me. “I got you a present.” He tied a rainbow-colored bracelet around my wrist. As Caleb tied it, he carefully studied my expression. My face was a mask of polite gratitude. “It’s pretty.” Caleb stared at my face. “Babe, is there anything you want to say to me?” I lowered my eyes for a long moment, then smiled and raised an eyebrow. “What? I have to say thank you twice for one bracelet?” Caleb, seeing my reaction was normal, let out a massive sigh of relief. “This isn’t just any bracelet. “It’s for The Rainbow Connection. ” I shoved him away. “Could you be any cheesier?” Caleb laughed and grabbed my hand. “Maya, I swear I’m going to marry you. “Just wait for me for three years, okay? I’m already working on it.” I didn’t answer. For some strange reason, I thought back to a past life regression session I’d done years ago. At the end of the session, the hypnotist had softly said in my ear, “I am going to count backwards from 5 to 0. With every number, you will feel more and more awake. “When I reach 1, you will open your eyes. “When I reach 0, you will be completely awake, feeling refreshed and better than before… 5, 4, 3, 2, 1… “0.” This wedding countdown, for me, was the countdown to finally waking up. 09 The day before the wedding, Caleb told me, with complete composure, that he had to go out of town on business for a few days. His eyes looked at me with tender affection. “When I get back, I have something I want to talk to you about.” I hid the mocking sarcasm in my eyes. “Okay. Can’t wait.” On the morning of the wedding, Mia came to pick me up. “Are you sure you want to go to the wedding venue? “You’re not planning on objectin’ or somethin’ crazy, are you?” I was busy double-checking the wedding timeline, coordinating with the stylists, lighting crew, and sound team, multi-tasking like a pro. I said casually, “What are you thinking? This is my job. “I’m the planner. I’m the only one who knows the whole flow. “If I don’t go, who’s going to manage the chaos?” Mia grabbed my hand. “Are you okay?” I thought about it seriously. “I was hurting.” But the intense 30-day preparation period had buried the worst of that pain. When I was in the thick of it, I realized I was never just an outsider watching. Caleb, I have to accept that I loved the wrong man. But I will never accept you making a fool out of me. So, it’s over. 10 The wedding was more perfect than anyone could have anticipated. Calla lilies filled the entire Bulgari hall. Crystal elements were placed just right, creating a look that was elegant without being sparse, and rich without being chaotic. The guests were full of nothing but praise. “This is the most stunning wedding I’ve ever been to.” “I have to find out which agency did this. When I get married, I want exactly this.” “That rainbow is unbelievable. For a second, it looked real.” Mia was handing out business cards until her hand was sore, adding dozens of potential clients on LinkedIn, smiling so hard her face probably hurt. As the groom, Caleb maintained a perfectly composed smile throughout the entire event. Standing next to Chloe Sterling, they truly looked like a picture-perfect power couple. During the appreciation speech, Chloe stood on stage and waved at me. “For this wedding, I want to offer a special thank you to my amazing wedding planner—Maya Price.” “They say every girl dreams of her perfect wedding, and Maya… she was the one who made my dream a reality.” I froze. This was definitely not on the timeline. Before I could react, the spotlight found me. In an instant, Caleb’s face went entirely pale. He tried to stop Chloe from handing me the microphone, lowering his voice so only I could hear. “Maya, don’t you dare ruin this. “You have no idea who is in this room! “I promised you I would marry you! Couldn’t you have just waited for three years?!” I studied Caleb closely. His face was entirely pale, and his forehead was covered in a fine layer of sweat. His makeup was starting to streak. I smiled. Even now, Caleb still thought I was there to ruin his wedding. It was as if fighting over this incredible catch was the only logical choice I could possibly make. I ignored him and gracefully accepted the microphone from Chloe. “I would also like to thank Ms. Sterling for trusting me and entrusting me with such a significant event. “On that note, I want to offer my sincerest congratulations to the newlyweds. “To the both of you: may your love be a deep ocean, may your journey together be as vast as the sky, may your thoughts always be with one another, and may you grow old together in perfect harmony.” The second I handed the microphone back to Chloe, I felt Caleb’s entire body relax. He looked like he had just been pulled out of a river. A lot of guests in the audience had noticed his strange behavior and were whispering. “What’s wrong with the groom? He’s acting bizarre.” “Is he sick or something?”

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My husband had to work late, so out of boredom, I picked up his tablet to play a game. Suddenly, a WeChat notification popped up. It was from an account I had never seen before. The group chat was named “Veteran Mechanics Maintenance Station,” and new messages were pouring in: “Test drove a ’75 vintage model today. 1.6L naturally aspirated. The intake was incredible. Handled all kinds of high-difficulty maneuvers with ease. Only downside is the engine knocks a bit, and it leaks a lot of fluid.” “Be grateful it still has fluid at that age!” “Respect, man. Was it your personal car, or a rental?” “I haven’t driven a classic that old yet. Mind if I take it for a spin? I’ll pay for the maintenance!” I was about to close the app when I saw my husband’s reply. “Classic cars can’t beat the new models. I just drove an ’01 off the lot. Slammed the gas pedal to the floor, the engine roared twice, and the whole system stalled.” My fingers trembled. The only car our family owned was a nearly ten-year-old SUV. 1. As my finger scrolled to the very last page of the tablet’s Notes app, it suddenly stopped. “WeChat Alt Account: rong0525, Password: 20180520.” That was the day we got our marriage license. I vividly remembered Mark holding up our marriage certificate, smiling brightly. “From now on, all my passwords will be this date, so you can unlock everything in my life whenever you want.” But right now, this password unlocked a world I had never seen before. The moment the login was successful, the WeChat homepage exploded with “99+” unread message notifications. The group chat was called “Veteran Mechanics Maintenance Station,” and every member’s profile picture was a car logo. New messages kept popping up. “Test drove a ’75 vintage model today. 1.6L naturally aspirated. Handled all kinds of high-difficulty driving maneuvers with ease. Only downside is the engine knocks a bit, and it leaks a lot of fluid.” Someone quickly replied: “Be grateful a car from that year still has fluid!” “Was it your personal car, or a rental?” “Mind if I take it for a spin? I’ll pay for the maintenance!” … At the very bottom of the chat was Mark’s reply. “Classic cars can’t beat the new models. I just drove an ’01 off the lot. Slammed the gas pedal to the floor, the engine roared twice, and the whole system stalled. Headlights were blindingly white. An unforgettable ride…” In a daze, I bumped the desk next to me. A framed photo rattled. It was taken on our anniversary last year. I was leaning against Mark’s shoulder, and parked behind us was our seven-year-old black SUV. He had said that day, “My wife is number one, and my car is number two. One is my safe harbor, and the other is the roar of my soul.” But the “cars” he was discussing in this group chat were models I didn’t recognize. The safe harbor was still here, but his soul was roaring somewhere else. I heard keys jingling at the front door. I quickly logged out of the tablet, shoving it under a sofa cushion just as Mark pushed the door open. He walked straight toward me with a wide smile, opening his arms for a hug like he always did. I stiffly hugged him back. As I did, a single, light-brown strand of long hair slipped from his collar—a stark, almost comical contrast to the pin-straight, jet-black hair I had kept for five years. Mark always said black hair was the most beautiful and grounded. “Had to drink with Mr. Davis today. His old Audi A8 keeps stalling, so we spent half the night talking about car repairs.” Mark rubbed his temples, offering a helpless smile. “I wanted to come home early to be with you, but he just wouldn’t stop talking. You know how these business dinners are. You can’t leave until the very last second.” He sighed and reached out to playfully ruffle my hair. “Company retreat next week. We’re staying overnight out of town this time. I’ll talk to the guys tomorrow and see if I can pay out of pocket to bring you along. Otherwise, I’ll go crazy missing you for a whole night.” With his movement, the long, light-brown hair slipped from his collar and fluttered silently onto the rug. I suddenly felt like I couldn’t breathe. All I could think about was the strong scent of gardenia perfume he smelled like when he came home from a “work dinner” last week. It was the exact same scent filling my nose right now. I jokingly asked if he had been out stealing kisses. He casually shook his head. “I took the car in for maintenance, and the shop owner recommended this new air freshener. I’m not used to the smell. It probably rubbed off on me.” Thinking back on it now, he told that lie so effortlessly. 2. When I walked out of the bedroom clutching the edges of the tablet, Mark shifted in his sleep. Moonlight slipped through the gap in the curtains, falling perfectly across his arm resting outside the blanket. A fresh, jarring scratch mark—clearly made by fingernails—was starkly visible. I held my breath and tiptoed toward the home office. Right before bed, he had been constantly texting on his phone. When he saw me looking, he openly waved the screen at me. “Just talking about cars with the guys from work. It’s the only hobby we men have left.” The moment I clicked on the desk lamp, the group chat messages flooded in. The “Veteran Mechanics Maintenance Station” chat jumped to the top of the screen. Someone posted: “Just put custom lace seat covers in the new car. Feels silky smooth to the touch, but they snag easily.” A reply quickly followed: “They snag because you’re too rough. If it were me, I wouldn’t ruin anything except the oil filler cap.” Scrolling down further, I quickly spotted Mark’s reply, glaringly obvious among the sea of text. “Lace seat covers are nothing. Why dress up the outside when you can upgrade the chassis? Decals, little bells… I’m telling you, that’s what makes a ride truly thrilling!” A flurry of responses flooded the screen below. “Mark the legend! You always have the wildest tricks!” “They don’t call you ‘Iron Mark’ for nothing. Hard as steel from head to toe.” “Flowing water crashing against ringing bells. Sounds like poetry, man!” Mark was practically glowing with pride in his texts. “Exactly! You gotta be bold and try new things. Once you’ve driven a new car off the lot, you realize old cars are just pure nostalgia. Men are wired to love the new and get bored of the old. It’s just human nature.” I stared at the words “little bells,” my fingertip pressing hard into the screen. Last month, while checking our joint credit card statement, I noticed Mark had spent $800. The merchant was listed as “Midnight Allure.” There were several similar charges. I had confronted him about it immediately. We had never been the type of couple to use toys or lingerie. More accurately, Mark refused to. Whenever my friends got together, they would talk about their sex lives with absolute enthusiasm. I never joined in. They thought I was just too shy to discuss it, but when I finally admitted we never spiced things up, they all scoffed. “Even a monk would lose his mind over fishnets! Emma, is your Mark made of stone or something? Try it out. I guarantee you’ll see a whole different side of him!” On the way home, I couldn’t resist stopping by an adult boutique and picking out the most conservative lingerie they had. But after I showered and finally worked up the courage to walk out wearing it, Mark just gave a helpless smile and draped a robe over my shoulders. “We’ve been married for years. What’s all this for? Don’t catch a cold.” “Don’t all men like this kind of thing?” I asked stubbornly, pulling the robe off. I did Pilates three times a week. My figure was famously fit at my gym. “I don’t care what other men like. I only know I don’t want to objectify my wife.” “It’s not objectifying. It’s just having fun…” He gently kissed the corner of my mouth, cutting me off. “We don’t need ‘fun’ between us. I can rise to the occasion for you anytime.” He pressed his hips forward against me. “We’ll skip the outfits. Remember, a knight’s duty is simply to serve his queen.” He really gave it his all that night. I could see a repressed lust in his eyes that felt different from usual, but the next day, I could never find that lingerie again. After that, our sex life settled into a routine of twice a month—once at the beginning, once at the end—as punctual as clocking in for a shift. I didn’t have an overly high sex drive either. Just like Mark said: Our souls are already perfectly intertwined. Why does it matter how much we immerse ourselves in the physical? But when I saw those charges from “Midnight Allure,” I was so furious I could barely breathe. Sensing something was wrong, Mark quickly grabbed my phone, scanned the screen, and laughed out loud. “Honey, is this what you’re mad about?” He quickly dialed a number. “Hey, Sam. Explain this to your sister-in-law. Why the hell is a reputable auto shop called ‘Midnight Allure’?!” The guy on the other end laughed loudly. “Don’t be mad, Emma! I opened an auto detailing shop on the East Side. Business was slow, so I thought changing the name might bring in more foot traffic!” “Mark’s been a lifesaver. He sent a bunch of customers my way. I told him I’d detail your car and do a full vinyl wrap for free, but he absolutely refused. He scanned my QR code and sent the money when I wasn’t looking! Mark, this is your fault! Now Emma thinks you’re up to no good!” I had met Sam before. He did indeed run an auto shop on the East Side, and Mark had taken me there once. Calling it an auto shop was a stretch. It looked like a massive, empty box from the outside. Inside, there was barely enough room for a single row of cars, but the entire back wall was lined with shelves. It felt claustrophobic, and it definitely didn’t look like a booming business. Before hanging up, Sam repeatedly insisted on taking us out to dinner—first to say thank you, and second to apologize for the misunderstanding. The issue was brushed under the rug. But I never imagined that a month later, when I opened Mark’s credit card statement again, there would be exactly seventeen identical charges. Did our single family SUV need maintenance every other day? 3. It felt like a wad of cotton was shoved down my throat. I gripped the tablet and stood up, planning to back up the chat history to the cloud. But my lower back bumped into the bookshelf, and a heavy Clinical Anatomy textbook hit the floor with a loud thud. Footsteps immediately echoed down the hallway. My heart stopped. In a panic, I shoved the tablet into the storage bin on the highest shelf. Just as I turned around, the office door was pushed open. Mark stood in the doorway. He didn’t turn on the light. The hallway illumination cut his face into sharp halves of light and shadow. He stared at me intently. “Honey? What are you doing in the office in the middle of the night?” I stretched my back. “I have an aortic dissection surgery tomorrow. Just reviewing some anatomy charts.” I bent down to pick up the book, my fingertips trembling so badly I almost dropped it again. “The top surgeon at City General still gets nervous?” Mark walked in, resting his hand on the edge of the desk, his thumb brushing over the surgical diagrams in the open book. “I heard a crash. I thought someone broke in.” I slid the book back onto the shelf, deliberately letting the spine hit the wood with a soft clatter. “I was rushing to find some reference material and knocked it over.” When I looked up, my eyes met his. There was a cloudy look in his eyes—I couldn’t tell if it was confusion or suspicion. I took the initiative and asked, “Why are you awake? Did I make too much noise?” He didn’t answer. Instead, he took two steps closer to the bookshelf. Sweat instantly soaked the back of my pajamas, making the fabric cling to my skin. The tablet was right above his head. The silver edge was glaringly obvious nestled among the row of books. But he suddenly stopped and reached out to tug at my hair. “Your hair is a mess.” His fingertips brushed behind my ear, carrying the scent of his usual aftershave. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that underneath it was the faint smell of massage candle wax, exactly like the kind the guys in the group chat were just discussing. “Let’s go back to sleep. Getting enough rest is the most important thing.” He wrapped his arm around my waist and guided me toward the door, his hand sliding up and down my waistline, almost as if he was checking to see if I was hiding anything. As we reached the doorway, he suddenly looked back at the bookshelf. His gaze swept over it like a searchlight. I wasn’t sure if he had spotted the tablet. If he had, he would have caught me red-handed looking at his chat history. What would I even say? Confront him directly? “Let’s sleep. I’m exhausted.” I let out a fake yawn, flicked off the office light, and naturally took his hand, leading him back to the bedroom. He didn’t notice the tablet and followed me back to bed. When we lay back down, he turned his back to me, but his breathing never leveled out. I stared at the ceiling, my mind flooded with memories of him dropping to his knees, begging me to be with him. 4. When I woke up the next morning, Mark had already made breakfast. He wore a deliberately relaxed smile on his face, but the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes betrayed his tension. “Honey, have you seen my tablet?” “I have a quarterly report for work. I need to use it to send some files.” He poured me a glass of soy milk, asking the question far too casually. I shook my head. “Haven’t seen it. Didn’t you leave it in the living room yesterday?” “Weird.” He scratched his head, turning toward the living room, his footsteps noticeably faster than usual. “I distinctly remember leaving it on the sofa…” I followed behind him, watching as he tore the sofa cushions apart. I crouched down to help him pick up a throw pillow, keeping my voice as natural as possible. “Wait, didn’t you use it for a video call in the bedroom the day before yesterday?” He let out an “Ah!” like he just remembered, and immediately turned and headed for the bedroom. Taking advantage of the noise he was making rummaging through the bedroom drawers, I sprinted to the home office, grabbed the tablet, took several rapid screenshots, cleared the recent app usage history, and then bolted back to the living room to shove it deep between the sofa cushions. The sound of cabinet doors and drawers slamming open and shut echoed from the bedroom. Mark was starting to panic. “Where the hell is it?!” I slowly sipped my soy milk, watching him pace through every room in the house like he was conducting a grid search. Soon enough, I heard Mark shout from the living room: “Found it! That’s so weird, I swore I just looked here!” When I walked over, he was holding the tablet and smiling, but his fingers were swiping frantically across the screen. When he saw the screen was completely clean, his tense shoulders finally dropped. He looked up at me and laughed. “My memory is getting worse every day.” When I wasn’t looking, he quickly found WeChat, switched accounts, and logged out. But I couldn’t stop the corners of my mouth from curling up into a smirk. He thought he was safe now, completely unaware that I had already set a trap. I knew he would eventually realize he needed to log out of WeChat. So, on my way home from work yesterday, I stopped by a convenience store and bought a prepaid burner phone and SIM card. I registered a new WeChat account with the burner number. The profile picture was a vintage motorcycle, and the display name was “Classic Ride.” The most crucial step was what I did while he was asleep last night. I opened the group chat, tapped the “Invite Friend” button, scanned the QR code with my new WeChat account, and immediately deleted the invitation record from his tablet. So, even though he had logged out of WeChat, he had absolutely no idea that a new pair of eyes was permanently watching his group chat. Mark put the tablet away, stood up, and patted my shoulder. “I’m heading to work. I might have to work late tonight.” The moment the door clicked shut, I immediately pulled out my phone and opened my new WeChat account. The little red notification dot for the group chat was bouncing wildly. Mark had just sent a voice message. “Went a little too hard the day before yesterday and scratched up the paint. That ’01 model needs some serious maintenance. The ‘Classic Ride’ at home is throwing a tantrum and won’t let me drive for the next couple days. Boys, if you’re taking the cars out, remember to bring me along.” He continued messaging the group, complaining that his “old car” at home needed to be “repaired.” I couldn’t resist tagging him. “How are you going to repair it? Aren’t you worried the ‘old car’ might find a new owner?” “A new owner?” “I could give her all the courage in the world, and she still wouldn’t have the nerve to leave me!” I honestly didn’t understand. Just a second ago, this man was acting like he couldn’t bear to part with me for a single night, and the moment he walked out the door, he was dragging my name through the mud. He quickly revealed the answer himself. Mark typed, radiating arrogance. “You guys don’t know the full story. When I bought this ‘old car,’ not only did I not pay a dime, but it actually came with a free house and a career attached!” I bit down hard on my lip. The metallic taste of blood instantly exploded in my mouth. The guys in the group were immediately interested. “Damn, deals like that actually exist? Where did you buy it? Can you hook me up with one?” It was a painful memory I thought I would never have to revisit. But Mark’s reply dragged me straight down into an inescapable abyss. I recognized every single word he typed. But pieced together, they felt like countless daggers plunging directly into my eyes. “You gotta be smart about it, boys. You scratch up the paint in the dark yourself, then you show up like a savior. A little pity, a little heartbreak… not only do you take over the lease with zero down and zero monthly payments, but the idiot actually thanks you for it.” “You played the villain and the hero?!” “Absolute genius, man!” … Mark soaked up the group’s praise, then quickly deleted his previous message. “Men are the sky, and women are the earth. The earth must obey the sky, and women must obey men. We men are born to conquer the world on horseback. Everyone talks about passing down traditional virtues, but somehow they conveniently forgot about the tradition of having multiple wives and mistresses! “The ‘old car’ should be grateful I don’t throw her out for being worn down! Haha!” My grip on the phone was so tight the screen nearly cracked. Originally, I just wanted to gather enough evidence to divorce him with my dignity intact. But now, I wanted him to drown like a maggot in the filthy sewage he had poured all over me, never to see the light of day again. I wanted to see it. I wanted to see how a man like this “conquered the world.” He pushed me into the abyss, then stood on the edge and threw down a frayed rope, expecting me to grovel in gratitude as I climbed up? Pathetic. Men might think they conquer the world on horseback, but women give birth to life. We bring new life into this world, and we absolutely will not allow the animals born beneath our skirts to stab us in the back! 5. I had been busy the last few days. I dug up the background of every single person in that group chat. The guy calling himself “Muscle Man Drives BMWs” was Mark’s college buddy, Jason. “Pedal to the Metal” was his coworker, David. “Premium Insurance Guy” was a former auto insurance salesman named Kevin. “Motor Oil Walk-In Closet” was Sam, the guy who ran the auto shop. There were many others. Some were invited by friends, while others joined through word of mouth, just like I did. Some were just there to talk big and live out their fantasies in the chat. Simply put, the group was a collection of society’s most disgusting, discarded scraps from every industry. My phone screen was still flashing with group chat notifications. Jason sent a message: “Just drove a Mini Cooper. Handled beautifully, incredibly thrilling. The acceleration pins you right back in your seat.” Someone immediately replied: “I drove a Mercedes C-Class last week. Burns through gas like crazy, but damn, she was gorgeous to look at.” The guys who just liked to talk immediately chimed in. “Hoping to meet a generous ‘green-hat’ brother who’s willing to share. Let me admire your ride, absolute secrecy guaranteed. I love other people’s cars, especially the ones aged 28 to 45. They have the most charm, gives you a real sense of conquest. But if I can’t find one, that’s fine too. [Facepalm] PM me if you fit the bill, serious inquiries only. No catfish. [Eye Roll][Eye Roll][Eye Roll]” “I’m not much of a player. Just have a little fun manually washing my car for fifteen seconds, spraying some wiper fluid, putting it in gear for an hour, and then spraying some more. It’s useless, but at least I’m only driving my own car and keeping it clean. [Dazed]” After being in the group this long, even an idiot would understand that these codes were the disgusting tags they slapped on women. Kevin, the guy with the car insurance profile picture, suddenly popped up: “Just got a new batch of ‘Electric Vehicle’ profiles. Passenger seat is usually empty. Whether you can actually drive it depends on your skills, but the success rate is pretty high. PM me if you want in.” Someone immediately asked for pictures and an estimated price. A photo of a woman from behind was sent to the chat. Slender legs, round hips. It left plenty to the imagination. “You can tell just by looking that the acceleration is going to push you back in your seat. The Camry has a low stance, and the headlights swing up and down. Incredible!” Jason critiqued. “You sly dog, acting like a saint at home and a total degenerate outside. You’re really living the dream, huh?” Mark replied quickly. “By the way, you didn’t forget we’re swapping ‘cars’ tomorrow, right? I told my wife I have a company retreat. Make sure you don’t slip up at home.” I had just seen Jason’s Facebook post, checking in at a high-end luxury mall. “Bought a little something for myself. Love you, wifey.” The attached photo showed his wife smiling happily, holding a brand-new Patek Philippe watch. The Buddha says it’s better to tear down a temple than to destroy a marriage. But nowadays, the monks in the temple had built themselves an express lane out of their vows, turning enlightenment into a checklist for infidelity and greed. So, the Buddha can’t be trusted. If these men were forming a club to “drive cars,” then us women… Well, we’d just have to unite and chop off their gearsticks! 6. I stared at the messages about swapping “cars,” re-reading them over and over. My fingers typed out a line on the screen: “Take me with you, boys! Seeing you guys swap looks like so much fun. I want to test the handling too.” The message sat in the chat for three hours before an avatar popped up: “New recruit?” I immediately sent three large red envelopes (digital cash gifts) to the chat, keeping my tone incredibly subservient: “The old car at home is dead weight. I’ve never actually experienced this kind of fun, and I feel pathetic. I’m not asking for much, bro, I just want to join the party.” When I specifically tagged Mark, my words oozed with “admiration”: “Mark, man, I respect the hell out of you. You’re the freest guy in this group. You’re a real man. I’m a rookie, I’ve never driven a luxury car before. Just let me watch from a distance. I swear I won’t cause any trouble.” Two minutes later, Mark’s message popped up, practically radiating smugness: “This is nothing. I’ve had my hands on at least eighty to a hundred steering wheels in my life. Since you’re so sincere, I’ll bring you along.” Then he sent two photos. Side profiles of two young women looking at the camera. It was Lily and Chloe. “These two are the ones we’re swapping tonight. Giving you a lot of face here, rookie.” I quickly replied: “You’re too generous, boss! I can’t just show up empty-handed. Which hotel should I book? Secret romance theme or the erotic waterbed suite?” He got even more arrogant, sending a location pin and an invite to a smaller, private group chat: “We’ve had our fun. I’ll let you touch the steering wheel tonight.” The private group chat contained the meticulous details of his and Jason’s plan. They had even calculated the exact milligram dosage of the drugs they were going to slip into the girls’ drinks, ensuring they would be “passed out drunk with no side effects.” In the main group, Mark’s coworker David suddenly sent out an SOS: “Played too hard! I threw up inside!” Someone replied instantly: “What happened? Weren’t you driving your boss’s car?” David sent an irritated emoji: “Don’t fucking mention it. She was crying, saying she felt sick. She’s been nauseous lately. You don’t think she’s…” The group chat exploded: “Dude, is she actually pregnant?” “Legend! You’re making your boss raise your woman and your kid?” I stared at the screen and sneered. Following the breadcrumbs in David’s chat history, I had figured it out ages ago—six months ago, he hooked up with the CEO’s secretary, manipulated her into leaking insider bidding information and client lists, and used it to force out his supervisor and get a massive raise. Evil people deserve to be tortured by other evil people. I took screenshots of his chat logs admitting to leaking corporate secrets and sent them anonymously to the CEO, Mr. King. After finishing that, I locked my phone. Looking at the hotel name in the location pin, my fingers scrolled through my contacts to find the phone numbers for Lily and Chloe, which I had paid a private investigator a small fortune to track down. It was time to let the hunters know that the prey knew how to build traps, too.

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When passion took over, I took the initiative to get on top. My husband, thoroughly enjoying it, suddenly licked his lips: “How much weight have you gained recently? Why are you so heavy?” “You need to lose some weight. It felt the absolute best when you were 105 pounds.” My heart skipped a beat. Not long ago, I saw a 105-pound woman sitting in this exact same spot with him. 1 The warm water from the showerhead cascaded over my body. Yet, I felt freezing cold, my head throbbing with a dull ache. 105 pounds. For a woman who is 5’9″, that is an impossibly low, astronomical number. Not to mention that as I’ve gotten older in recent years, my metabolism has slowed down. Keeping my weight at 125 pounds had already taken an immense amount of blood, sweat, and tears. So, that number could only belong to another woman. My fifteen-year marriage with Arthur Caldwell had ultimately gained a third person. It had become too crowded. Click. The bathroom door opened. Arthur, his eyes soft and humming a light tune, wrapped his arms around my waist. “What’s wrong, Vivian? You’ve been showering for so long. Are you upset just because I said you gained a little weight?” He rested his chin in the crook of my neck, letting his stubble gently rub against my skin. Instantly, goosebumps erupted all over my arms. I squeezed my eyes shut, took a deep breath, and peeled his fingers off my waist one by one until I was completely out of his embrace. “Arthur, I am upset, but not because you called me fat. We’ve been together for so many years. Give it to me straight: who is 105 pounds?” My tone was dead serious. I wasn’t letting him joke his way out of this. Arthur gave a helpless smile, cupping my face with both hands and rubbing my cheeks affectionately. “Look at this angry little face. No one is 105 pounds. I was just caught up in the moment and blurted it out. Don’t overthink a mindless comment. Vivian, we are both thirty-five now. We don’t need to care about superficial appearances anymore. When we’re old, grey, and wrinkly, I will still be the person closest to you. We are husband and wife; we don’t need to use our bodies to please each other for the rest of our lives.” I looked at the man standing in front of me and couldn’t help but scoff. Superficial appearances? Thirty-five-year-old Arthur was handsome, with broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and a perfect V-taper. He had an incredible presence. Compared to younger guys, he possessed the distinct, refined charm of a mature man. Even after our intense workout just now, his hair was still perfectly styled. No matter how busy work got, he rigidly stuck to his schedule of hitting the gym three times a week and going for a morning run five days a week. He cared about “superficial appearances” more than anyone. “That’s not what I meant…” I was just about to interrogate him further when he cut me off. “Oh, by the way, I got a bracelet from Dr. Evans. He said it’s the custom-cut emerald bangle you’ve been eyeing. I was going to hide it and surprise you, but I guess I’ll use it as an apology for my stupid comment today. Please, my beautiful wife, let me off the hook. Let’s not fight, okay?” He bowed sincerely, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of my hand. Here we go again. For the past two years, whenever the slightest hint of conflict arose between us, Arthur would instantly interrupt my train of thought. I wasn’t the most articulate person, and I processed things slowly. Once interrupted, I would momentarily forget what I was going to say. In the end, the issue would be swept under the rug with one lavish gift after another. Sometimes, I would think about it and just let it go. In a marriage, someone always has to compromise. But this time was different. My sixth sense was screaming at me. I absolutely could not just let this go. 2 To uncover the truth behind the “105 pounds” comment, I decided to start with the sales associates at the luxury boutiques downtown. Arthur was incredibly generous. He never cared about the price tag when buying gifts. If he really had a mistress, he would definitely be sending her luxury goods. But when I went down to the garage, I noticed the Rolls-Royce Phantom—which had been parked and untouched for a long time—was missing. It was a limited-edition Phantom. Arthur hated driving it. It was too flashy, too ostentatious. Every time he took it out on the streets of Chicago, people would ask to take pictures with it. It was a hassle. I went back inside, casually picked up a pair of earrings, and dialed his number. “Arthur, did you drive the Phantom to work today?” The person on the other end seemed to short-circuit for a second. When he recovered, his tone was as gentle as ever: “Oh, yeah. It hasn’t been driven in a while, and cars need to be run every now and then to keep the engine healthy. Do you need something, Vivian? If it’s not urgent, let’s chat tonight.” I understood the hidden subtext in his voice. I replied smoothly: “Remember when Harper borrowed the Phantom to shoot that tech video? She’s always so clumsy. She lost the diamond earrings her late mother left her. We’ve thought about it, and she probably dropped them in the car. I want to help her look. Is the car parked at the office? I’ll come find you…” “Wait!” From the other end of the line, I didn’t just hear Arthur’s panicked refusal; I also heard the screech of tires braking hard and the faint honking of cars outside. “You’re on the road? Perfect, just swing by the house first. You know how Harper gets. Tomorrow is the anniversary of her mom’s passing, she can’t wait.” I didn’t give Arthur a chance to decline. I hung up immediately. It felt incredibly satisfying. Arthur knew that the influence of my best friend Harper’s family in Chicago was nothing like it used to be. In the AI sector alone, they controlled market shares that Arthur desperately wanted but couldn’t touch. Now that I brought up her family, he had to come back—no matter which road in Chicago he was currently driving on. 3 The familiar car didn’t return to our garage; it parked near the entrance of our gated community. I didn’t care. Because from a distance, I could clearly see someone sitting in the passenger seat. Walking closer, I saw it was a young girl. Silky black hair, amber eyes reflecting the blazing summer sun. Her cheeks were flushed pink, radiating an overwhelming aura of youth. She rolled down the window first, enthusiastically waving her arm at me. “Hi, Mrs. Caldwell! I’m Mia Jenkins.” Her bright, radiant smile revealed deep dimples. Her cheerful tone was like a pool of clear water rippled by a spring breeze. It made my heart twitch. Facing her beaming smile, I merely nodded in acknowledgment. She seemed friendly, but she made absolutely no move to get out of the car. I could read between the lines. So, I walked straight to the back door, opened it, bent down, and pretended to search the floorboards for a moment before gasping: “Harper’s earrings really are here! Honey, why don’t you just drop me off at Harper’s place on the way? She’s been super stressed these past two days.” I casually sat in the back seat, adjusting my clothes, leaving no room for refusal. Arthur’s body stiffened. He turned around, giving me an apologetic look, and answered a question I hadn’t asked: “Vivian, this is the new intern at our company. She had to deliver a document today. She’s young and new to Chicago, so I was just giving her a ride since it was on the way.” I smiled, my eyes curving into crescents. Looking at Arthur in the rearview mirror, I let out a soft “Mhm.” What kind of intern requires the CEO to personally give her a ride? Hilarious. The car slowly began to move. This time, Arthur was the chauffeur, and I was the boss in the back. … I don’t know if it was because of my sudden appearance, but the car was dead silent. Mia flipped down the sun visor, checked her makeup in the mirror, then grabbed the headrest, exposing a pale, delicate wrist as she turned to look at me. “Mrs. Caldwell, what do you usually do at home to manage your figure? Your body is amazing. I feel like sitting at a desk all day is giving me love handles. I just can’t seem to manage my weight anymore.” I listened to her words, smiling but staying silent. Spoken like a fresh-out-of-college intern. It sounded like a compliment about my figure, but it was a thinly veiled jab—implying that at my age, I contributed nothing to society, just sitting at home leeching off my husband, while she was young and actively climbing the corporate ladder. A freshly minted little fox daring to tug at the tail of an old fox. I blinked, covering my mouth in a dramatic gasp: “Oh my goodness! You’re so young, and you already can’t control your weight? Mia, you have to realize that the older you get, the worse your metabolism becomes. I’m honestly worried about what you’ll do when you reach my age. Take a piece of advice from an older woman: start dieting as soon as possible.” I rarely clashed with people upon our first meeting. Handling situations with a polite smile had practically been ingrained into my bones. Mia froze, seemingly not expecting me to differ so wildly from the docile rumors she’d heard around the office. She bit her lower lip, replying indignantly: “I see… Then I guess I’ll start my diet tomorrow…” As she turned back around and retracted her hand, a translucent jade bangle flashed before my eyes. Although it was just a quick glance, my years of experience told me it was an incredibly rare, top-tier emerald bangle. The kind that easily costs eight figures. I grabbed her soft, delicate hand, inspecting it closely: “This bracelet is very clear.” Mia’s gloom vanished instantly, her face lighting up with joy. “Hehe, right? A friend of mine gave it to me.” Her eyes darted to my wrist. “Oh, Mrs. Caldwell, why are you still wearing a solid gold bracelet? The style is so old and tacky. None of us wear gold anymore; it’s so outdated.” I tilted my head to look at Arthur’s expression in the driver’s seat. Mia’s comment was incredibly rude. Normally, he would have jumped to my defense immediately. But today, it was as if he had lost his hearing, focusing intently on driving the car. “Because this is the gift your CEO bought for me with his very first pot of gold. No passing trend could ever compare to the sincerity he showed me back then.” In the rearview mirror, the corners of Arthur’s mouth curled up. He was enjoying this. So, he was listening to our conversation. “Oh, the meaning behind the first pot of gold is definitely different. My bracelet is just expensive, it doesn’t have any deep meaning. But still, I love it very, very much.” The girl pouted, gently stroking the bangle on her wrist. Her fleeting disappointment vanished in an instant; she knew exactly how to comfort herself. Before today, I probably wouldn’t have even noticed the micro-expressions on Arthur’s face. But today, I was here specifically to watch him. I suppressed the displeasure in my heart, my tone remaining friendly: “However, I noticed the inner diameter of this bracelet is quite small. A size 5? 5.5?” “It’s a size 5.5. It’s actually a bit big on me, but luckily I’m careful so it doesn’t fall off. It’s my fault for being too skinny.” A young girl’s secret desires can never be hidden for long. As she spoke, she couldn’t help but lean closer toward the driver’s seat. A size 5.5 is extremely petite. I let go of Mia’s wrist, sat up straight, crossed my arms, and asked with a cold smile: “You are indeed skinny. Do you weigh 105 pounds?” 4 “Wow, Mrs. Caldwell, you’re so smart! How did you kno—” “Enough. Stop chatting. I can’t focus on driving with you two talking so much.” Arthur frowned, cutting Mia off. While waiting at a red light, he reached back, grabbed Mia’s shoulder, and scolded her: “Also, Mia Jenkins, you are just an intern. I’m only giving you a ride today because it was on the way. Please remember your place and watch your tone. Vivian is my wife, and the boss’s wife at the company you work for. I expect you to know basic courtesy and respect.” The previously smug girl instantly got tears in her eyes. Blinking back her tears, she bit her lower lip hard, struggling to control her expression. Her voice trembled slightly: “I’m sorry. I was out of line today. Please pull over at the curb, Mr. Caldwell. I can call an Uber myself.” With a dark expression, Arthur roughly pulled the car to the side of the road. Mia opened the door and bolted. She didn’t wait for an Uber; she just kept her head down, violently wiping her cheeks as she marched down the sidewalk. For the rest of the drive, I could distinctly feel Arthur’s agitation and impatience. If the car in front of him didn’t accelerate the second the light turned green, he laid on the horn relentlessly. He even couldn’t help but curse a few times: “If you’re going to drive like a grandma, get off the damn road, you absolute moron.” I had never seen this side of Arthur before. After dropping me off at Harper’s estate, he didn’t say a word. He just slammed the gas pedal and sped off. Watching the car disappear into the distance, the last shred of my persistence and trust crumbled into dust. Is there anyone who never changes? Is there anyone who will treat you well for an entire lifetime? After weathering all the storms together, is this what it comes down to? Is it really just like the internet says: “In the end, they all turn out the same”? 5 The custom emerald bracelet Arthur promised to give me never materialized. I didn’t rush him or bring it up. By unspoken agreement, neither of us mentioned the unpleasantness of that day. But the incident felt like thousands of ants constantly gnawing at every corner of my brain and body. Forgive me. I didn’t have the courage to lay everything out in the open. When I first discovered Arthur was acting suspicious, I was full of fighting spirit, determined to make him regret it. But when I actually found the girl, I felt afraid. I felt cowardly. I couldn’t seem to imagine a life without Arthur in it. For over a decade, Arthur had been the guiding light in my life. When I was eighteen, coming from an ordinary working-class family, I miraculously got accepted into a prestigious university. But then, my mother—my only family—suddenly collapsed. She was gravely ill. I worked multiple jobs and sold everything of value. Yet, my mother still ended up in the ICU. The ICU is like a massive money-shredder. When I was desperate and on the verge of making terrible, irreversible choices, Arthur saved me. To solve my financial crisis, he swallowed his pride and sought out his estranged biological father. He traded his own future to secure the funds for my mother’s endless medical bills. He used his father’s connections to fly in world-renowned neurosurgeons to operate on her. Because of him, my mother lived for another two years. When she passed, Arthur personally handled all the funeral arrangements. He encouraged me to stand back up, face life, and not fear the future. Because he promised he would always hold my hand and guide me forward. I believed him. So, when his adoptive “mother” threw a bank card with ten million dollars in my face and told me to leave Arthur, I rejected it without a moment’s hesitation. We fought through the Caldwell family’s relentless opposition. We finally made it to the eve of our wedding. At that time, Arthur’s “mother” issued an ultimatum: I was never allowed to bear Caldwell children. I knew she had always looked down on a girl from the slums like me. But it still stung. Arthur held me, telling me over and over again: “Kids or no kids, I never wanted you to go through the physical toll of pregnancy anyway. She’s just terrified that the empire her husband spent decades building will be inherited by the sudden appearance of his illegitimate son’s child.” “If it weren’t for you, I would never have returned to this toxic family. Everything I do is just to give you the absolute best this world has to offer.” Arthur’s kindness toward me back then was real. I saw it with my own eyes; I felt it in my heart. For over a decade, Arthur told me every single day that I was the one he loved, the one he cared about. I had never doubted him. I was grateful for everything he did for my mother, and thankful that he loved me for over ten years. But in the end, we turned out just like any other ordinary, broken couple. 6 Days flew by. Just as I was beginning to numb myself to reality, Arthur showed up at our front door at 10 PM. With Mia Jenkins. Next to Mia was a massive 28-inch suitcase. She looked completely different from the first time we met. That radiant, natural confidence and youthful energy were gone. Her head was bowed, her hair a messy tangle, her lips pale and chapped. She looked incredibly familiar to me. I felt like I had seen her somewhere before. “Ahem, Vivian, I ran into her sitting in the company lobby after work today. She got kicked out of her apartment by her landlord over some dispute.” Arthur spoke unnaturally, avoiding eye contact with me. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Caldwell, for bothering you again. I really had no other choice.” “My dad… he’s sick. All my money is tied up in the hospital’s account. I can be homeless, but he can’t leave the hospital. I apologize again for making you uncomfortable last time. If you still don’t want to see me today, I’ll leave right now.” As Mia spoke, her head drooped lower and lower, her back bending further and further. She looked so pathetic. So subservient. Suddenly, it hit me. I finally realized where I had seen this version of Mia Jenkins before. It was me, at eighteen years old, backed into a corner by life. Back then, I was just as desperate, with nowhere to turn. And Arthur was just as “kind-hearted” as he was over a decade ago. He extended his hand to play the savior. “Mia, you don’t need to act so humble. Vivian isn’t a petty person.” “Right, Vivian?” This time, Arthur looked at me with a firm, resolute gaze. His hand had already dragged Mia’s suitcase into the entryway. Both his tone and his actions left absolutely no room for me to object. Agreeing was my only option. “Alright. Come in. I’ll have Martha clean up the guest room.” 7 And just like that, Mia Jenkins moved into Arthur and I’s home under a veneer of grand nobility. Even Martha, the housekeeper, could see the shady undertones. “Mrs. Caldwell, it’s not my place to say this, but… having a young, tearful girl living in the house is just not right. If worse comes to worst, let’s go ask the old madam for help.” The “old madam” Martha referred to was Arthur’s adoptive mother, Eleanor Caldwell. “Mrs. Caldwell, you haven’t had a child of your own in over a decade. If this girl suddenly…” Martha trailed off, but I understood perfectly what she meant. But when a man’s heart is no longer with you, bringing in the old madam or the young madam makes no difference. Even if the President of the United States showed up, it would be useless. At 2 AM, the sound of sobbing and a weak knock echoed from outside the door. The man next to me bolted upright in bed. “Mia, is that you?” Arthur asked. “Mr. Caldwell… I didn’t want to bother you, but… my dad just got a critical condition notice. I don’t know who else to call. I really have no one else…” Mia’s voice broke at the very end. Her quiet sobbing turned into a devastated wail. Arthur instantly got out of bed and started throwing on his clothes. I instinctively grabbed his arm: “I’ll go with you.” He shook his head: “Vivian, don’t come. I’m afraid it’ll make you think of the past… I don’t want to trigger your trauma. I’ll go with her. You go back to sleep.” After dressing, Arthur placed his hand on the doorknob and looked back at me lying on my side: “Vivian, you went through all of this once too. I know you can empathize with her. Please.” I looked out at the silent night and let out a helpless sigh. Was he trying to make me remember the past, or hoping I couldn’t? For a moment, I honestly couldn’t tell what Arthur’s true objective was. “I understand. I know.” Click. The door was gently shut, and soon, there was no sound from the hallway. Which car would Arthur drive to take Mia out? Were they really going to the hospital, or somewhere else? What were they going to do? Did the sick father even exist? My brain was tangled in a chaotic knot of questions. Sleep was entirely out of the question. And so, I sat there, eyes wide open, watching the sky turn bright, then slowly turn dark again. Why weren’t they back yet? It wasn’t until Martha knocked on my door: “Mrs. Caldwell, whatever is happening, put it aside and eat something first. Don’t torture yourself. You didn’t do anything wrong…” I froze slightly. Right. What exactly did I, Vivian, do wrong in this situation? The two people who actually did something wrong were out there having the time of their lives, without a single shred of guilt in their hearts. Yet I, the victim, was sitting here letting internal turmoil slowly kill me? Why should I? I got up, washed my face, and ate a full meal. Then, I began to consolidate all my savings from the past decade. I was thirty-five. I had hands, feet, and a vast network of connections. It seemed I really had nothing to be afraid of. That very day, with a full stomach, I decided to let myself off the hook. All the problems tormenting me were instantly sliced open by a sharp blade. My swollen, dizzy brain was suddenly possessed by a cold, clear-headed ruthlessness. After organizing everything, I looked at the gold bracelet sitting in the drawer—the one I hadn’t worn in ages. It was time to return it.

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I always knew Liam was just using me as a shield. He used my “poverty” to confess his love, and I played along. He used my “poverty” for his dates, and I stood watch. Then, high school ended. His poor, struggling first love went abroad to pursue her dreams. And I officially became Liam’s “placeholder” girlfriend. He told me outright: when she comes back, I step down. So I waited. And waited. I went from his girlfriend to his fiancée, and almost from his fiancée to his wife. Finally. Right before the wedding. Liam flew halfway across the world and brought her back. I slipped off the engagement ring and let out a long sigh of relief. Before I left, I even thoughtfully closed the door for them. 01 When I heard Liam had chartered a private jet overnight to bring her back, I wasn’t surprised. After all, it was Sarah Jenkins. When my best friend heard the news, she was furious: “You guys were about to get married! Has he lost his mind?!” No, he hadn’t. Sarah Jenkins was currently one of the hottest rising fashion designers in the industry. And it was an open secret that she was Liam Vance, CEO of the Vance Group’s, first love. Reporters had even asked her about it directly. Sarah had replied: “Regardless of who someone’s first love is, I got to where I am today through my own hard work.” “Please focus less on tabloid gossip and more on my designs.” But just last week, Sarah was hit with a massive plagiarism scandal. A stunning, star-studded dress she claimed as her own design. Turned out to be stolen from an unknown indie designer. The scandal blew up. Sarah posted a dramatic update on her social media: [Are you all trying to drive me to my death?] That morning, Liam had been glued to his phone through breakfast. He was supposed to attend a crucial contract signing with a new supplier that day. He had casually agreed to give the contract to my dad’s company. But because Liam didn’t show up, the VP seized the opportunity and gave the contract to his own relative instead. My dad was so furious he called me ten times to scream at me. I tried calling Liam, but he didn’t answer. By the third attempt, his phone was turned off. When I finally saw Liam again, it was 11:00 PM. He told me to come to one of his vacant luxury properties. I had never been to this specific house before. As soon as I walked through the front doors, I saw the courtyard was filled with pink roses. The exact flowers Liam used to give Sarah. The sports car stuffed with pink roses—that was the extravagant scene from the day Liam had originally confessed his love to her. The interior decor wasn’t Liam’s usual pretentious, ultra-modern, minimalist style either. Thinking about it, it was exactly Sarah’s taste. Approaching the master bedroom, I heard a woman crying softly. The scene inside was pretty much exactly what I had imagined. A pale-faced woman was sitting on the edge of the bed, crying beautifully, a bandage wrapped around her wrist. A tall man stood beside the bed, looking utterly lost and helpless. His usually immaculate, custom-tailored suit was wrinkled. The only thing keeping him looking somewhat put-together was a face that rivaled a runway model’s. I didn’t understand why Liam had called me here. Courier services exist for a reason. He turned and looked at me, his eyes seemingly lighting up. I knew that look all too well. It was the exact same look he gave me back in high school when he and Sarah were secretly dating in the woods behind the school and almost got caught by the principal. “Sarah gets embarrassed easily. You take the blame for her.” Whenever he didn’t know what gift to buy Sarah, or when he somehow made her angry and didn’t know how to fix it, he would give me that exact look, expecting me to come up with a solution. I usually couldn’t come up with any good ideas. In the end, Sarah would usually just kick both of us out. She would yell at Liam, saying he only had his stupid money, and she’d call me his pathetic little lapdog. I would just roll my eyes and say, “Sidekick, sidekick. Lapdog sounds so ugly.” Liam would laugh at that. But in the end, Sarah always accepted Liam’s money anyway. Sarah dreamed of being a fashion designer. Back in high school, for a birthday gift Liam gave her, she had to work three months of part-time jobs just to buy him something of similar value in return. Unlike me, who took his gifts faster than a cheetah and constantly hoped some extra cash would slip through his fingers. Later, Sarah bombed her SATs. She ran up to the school roof, threatening to jump. Liam cried and begged her to come down, promising he would make her dreams come true. He sent her abroad. The Vance family was incredibly wealthy. While not the absolute top 1%, they were still far beyond ordinary rich. Behind his family’s back, Liam tapped into the trust fund he gained access to when he turned eighteen. He spent millions to get Sarah into a prestigious design school in Paris. Honestly, I had always suspected Sarah only got close to Liam for his money. But then again. So did I. Lapdogs do it for free. Sidekicks charge an appearance fee. 02 That year, when the truth came out about what Liam did with his trust fund. His grandfather beat him until he was black and blue, and then forced him into an arranged marriage. Old Mr. Vance declared: “The girl you marry will be from a family of equal standing!” But Liam refused to marry anyone other than Sarah. So, he came up with a terrible idea. He brought me back to his strict grandfather’s traditional estate and orchestrated a scene where the maids “caught” us exploring the mysteries of youth. He had dragged me toward the bed in a frantic rush. It scared the hell out of me. At the time, I had just turned eighteen. I was dizzy with the moment, actually foolishly believing he liked me. A few minutes later, the bedroom door was slammed open. Seeing a massive crowd of people standing outside the door, my face drained of color in terror. I frantically pulled the blanket up to cover myself. The humiliation and shame of that moment nearly drowned me. But it was nothing compared to what Liam said next. He announced proudly: “Chloe is my girlfriend! She’s the daughter of the Harper family!” “She initiated it! She took my shirt off for me!” I have always been smart. If I wasn’t smart, I wouldn’t have been the only illegitimate child my father ever brought into the Harper household. I instantly understood Liam’s little trick. He was using me as a human shield. Not only that, but he was using my “scandalous” behavior to highlight how pure and virtuous Sarah was by comparison. He was basically telling his family: Look, this is the kind of girl from an ‘equal standing’ family you want me to marry. Barely eighteen, and she’s already doing things like this in the elder’s house. Sure enough. The moment we were alone. He stated matter-of-factly: “Chloe, you know who I really love.” “When Sarah comes back, you leave. Don’t worry, I won’t treat you badly financially.” A young girl’s dignity isn’t worth much. But his love for Sarah was worth a fortune. So, I traded my dignity for a very large sum of money. I nodded. Liam was very satisfied, sighing: “I knew you were obedient. Easy to deal with.” So now, it was time for him to “deal” with me. 03 No wonder. No wonder Liam had randomly transferred half a million dollars to me this morning. I actually thought he was giving it to me for our “dating” anniversary. The day after tomorrow marked five years since we “started dating.” I felt incredibly guilty after receiving the half a million. Because I hadn’t prepared a single thing for him, and I certainly wasn’t going to transfer money back to him. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to spend money on him. It was mainly because he didn’t need it. And, obviously, I was cheap. So, I had carefully selected a high-end French restaurant. I booked the entire place. I even planned to play a slideshow. I had several major projects on my plate at the time, so I had stayed up all night to put the slideshow together. I had just finished it and sent it to the restaurant right before Liam called me over here. The slideshow documented all the little moments of our last five years. Going to college together. I answered roll call for him while he slept on the desk next to me. When the professor questioned me, I shamelessly said: “I’m his future wife. We are one entity, so me answering for him is the same thing.” The whole lecture hall had erupted in cheers. Traveling together. He loved extreme sports: skydiving, black-diamond snowboarding. His rich trust-fund friends valued their lives too much to join him, so I was the only one willing to risk my neck to keep him company. Afterward, my legs would be shaking so badly I almost collapsed. When the world was spinning, he pulled me into his arms. Moving in together. We watched TV together, went grocery shopping together, cooked together… Well, I cooked, and he ate. Liam hated having maids around, and he didn’t like hiring cleaning services either. I don’t know when it started, but he eventually started volunteering to wash the dishes. The memories ended there. I was just wondering if I could still get a refund from that French restaurant for tomorrow night. Liam frowned at me: “What took you so long?” Having not slept for two days straight, I was feeling a bit dizzy and seeing spots. Sarah looked up at me. “Are you… Chloe?” I smiled and greeted her. She wiped her tears and said: “I’m sorry you had to see me looking like such a mess.” “I’m sorry to trouble you, but Liam said you’re really good at taking care of people…” I looked at Liam. Liam said naturally: “You take care of her.” “She hasn’t eaten in two days. Make her something to eat. And her clothes are too thin, go buy her a change of clothes…” As Liam rattled off his demands, I just kept nodding, nodding, nodding. I said: “Yes, sir. No problem. Received. I’m on it right now.” My obedient, compliant response suddenly left Liam speechless. I was taking notes on my phone. When I heard silence, I looked up at him, confused. “Is that all? Li… Mr. Vance.” I almost slipped up and called him by his first name. Calling him “Liam” was something he had specifically told me to do back when we were putting on the act for his grandfather. There were too many occasions where we had to pretend. He specifically allowed me to use that name, and I eventually just got used to it. But now that Sarah was back, if I kept calling him that and she got jealous, Liam would absolutely destroy me. Liam’s gaze was heavy. Seeing that he seemed to be finished, I turned to walk out. Liam suddenly shouted: “Chloe, stop right there!” He startled me. I turned back to him, putting on my best sycophantic smile: “Mr. Vance, do you have any other orders?” Liam’s expression looked awful. He seemed to grind out every single word through his teeth: “Do you not have anything you want to ask me?” Ask what? Liam glared at me. He was so angry his cheeks were slightly puffed out, his jawline clenched tight. He looked like a very handsome toad. I thought about it for a second, then asked: “What is Ms. Jenkins’s clothing size?” Actually, I could tell by looking at her. She was probably a size Small. She was even thinner than she was in high school. I don’t know if she was trying to fit the aesthetic of the European fashion scene, or if she just hadn’t been living well these past few years. Or maybe both. Unlike me. I ate well, slept well, and was a solid two sizes bigger than I was back then. I’m 5’3″ and weigh about 130 pounds. When my friends told me to lose weight, I told them this is what prosperity looks like. I grew up poor; I like looking like I have money now. If I lost weight and hired male models, it would just be a waste of good money on them. Liam laughed. But it was a dark, menacing laugh. He said: “Chloe, you are unbelievable.” “Hey! Thank you, Mr. Vance!” 04 I bought several sets of luxury designer clothes. From underwear to outerwear, head to toe, I got everything. I also called the French restaurant. When they told me the fifty-thousand-dollar deposit was non-refundable, I almost had a heart attack. I tried to negotiate with them: “Can I just get half back?” “I’m sorry, ma’am, but no.” I said: “Then how about this: I’m not coming tomorrow night, but you can just cook the food and deliver it to me right now.” “Make whatever, but make sure it’s good.” “The address is in the Eastside Estates…” After handling the food and clothes, I double-checked to see if I missed anything. And I did find a glaring omission. A full belly leads to other desires. I went online and ordered some 0.01mm ultra-thin protection. I guessed the size. Smallest available. Hopefully, it fits. If it didn’t, he couldn’t blame me. It’s not like Liam ever showed me. When I got back to the villa, Sarah seemed to have cried herself to sleep. Her eyes were closed, her hand gripping Liam’s sleeve tightly. Liam was in the exact same position he had been in when I left. He had just stayed by her side, barely moving an inch. When I pushed the door open, Liam was leaning down, about to steal a kiss from Sarah. Wait. Couldn’t he wait until she woke up? Was he really that desperate? It scared me so much I almost walked in backward. I quickly shut my mouth tight. After thinking about it, I quietly placed the “essentials” on the floor inside the bedroom. Then, I gently pulled the door shut. Before leaving, I sent Liam a text: [Mr. Vance, I left the clothes and food in the living room.] [You can come out and get them when you guys are finished.] While typing that message, I couldn’t help but see our previous texts. It was a message Liam had sent me while he was at work. He was complaining to me about the old executives on the board of his company. Then he whined and asked me to go bungee jumping with him, said he was going to take me to Nice to see the ocean the day after tomorrow, and that we were going to Switzerland to ski at the end of the year to de-stress from work. Perhaps because the future is so uncertain. People always love to make plans for it. I had replied with one word: [Received]. He had gotten annoyed and sent a sticker of an angry kitten. I searched for a long time before finding a sticker of someone petting a kitten’s head to send back. Afraid he was actually mad, I added: [What do you want for dinner?] But calculating the time, he probably saw the news about Sarah right around then, and he never replied. An abruptly ended conversation seemed to be the perfect announcement for an impending breakup. It started my freshman year of high school and ended the second year after I graduated college. I couldn’t help but feel a little nostalgic. Liam was overbearing, childish, selfish, and stupid. But there was no denying he wasn’t a bad guy, and he was very generous. At his engagement banquet. He had a bit to drink and proudly declared: “Chloe, I’ll allow you to stay by my side forever.” For a while, I genuinely thought we were actually going to get married. Looking at it now, I had definitely misunderstood. The cold, hard numbers in my bank account were the only things that truly warmed my heart. I took off the engagement ring I had been wearing and gently placed it on the living room table. Funny how things work out. I told the French restaurant they didn’t need to follow my custom menu, just to make whatever. But they kept the cake I had ordered. Written on it was— [Liam, Happy 5th Anniversary!] My engagement ring was left right next to the cake. 05 Liam’s lips stopped inches away from Sarah’s face. For some reason, he suddenly didn’t want to kiss her anymore. Even though the person he had thought about for years was right in front of his eyes. Liam thought it was because he respected Sarah. Sarah was no longer the poor student she used to be. For the past four years, Liam had flown to her for every single one of her birthdays. To celebrate with her, to introduce her to resources. But nothing had ever happened between them. Back then, Sarah explicitly told him she wasn’t coming back to the US, and she didn’t want to hold him back. Liam stubbornly replied: “Who’s waiting for you? I’m already with Chloe!” Sarah had smiled and said: “With her by your side, I can rest easy.” “She’s your lapdog. She’ll definitely take good care of you.” “Liam, even though we can’t be together, I want you to be happy more than anyone else in the world.” Liam’s anger instantly evaporated. This was the most tragic, yet beautiful, form of love, wasn’t it? Even though they couldn’t be together, they still held the number one spot in each other’s hearts. Sarah was meant to soar. He had to let her fly free. Sarah was like a rose Liam had cultivated with his own hands. She had fought so hard to grow out of the mud, and she deserved to bloom brilliantly for the whole world to see. He couldn’t trap her by his side. He should only be the rain that waters her when she needs him. That was the philosophy he had gradually come to accept. He only needed a greedy, materialistic woman like Chloe by his side. He couldn’t give her his heart, but he could give her marriage, money, and status. That’s how high-society marriages worked anyway. Just like the anniversary transfer he sent her a few days ago. His friend had suggested he transfer $520,000 (a romantic number in Chinese internet slang), but he thought that was too cheesy and unnecessary. Chloe, who normally wouldn’t even be fit to tie Sarah’s shoes, should be satisfied with what she got. Thinking of Chloe, Liam felt an inexplicable surge of annoyance. Even though his relationship with Sarah was completely platonic, was Chloe really not jealous at all? No. Chloe must be angry. That’s why she deliberately called him “Mr. Vance.” His friends always teased him about how submissive Chloe was. “Liam really knows how to train a wife. Unlike my tiger wife at home. If I so much as glance at another woman, she blows up.” “When Sarah finally comes back, I bet Chloe wouldn’t even mind being the side piece, right?” “Side piece? I’d say she’s more like a loyal maid. If Liam hooks up with someone, she’d probably be the one handing him the condom!” Liam never argued with them. Because that’s exactly how it was. Just then. Liam saw the notification on his phone. It was Chloe letting him know she had come and gone. He casually glanced toward the bedroom door. Liam shot up, staring in disbelief, and walked over to pick up the small box on the floor. He squeezed the box until it deformed. Chloe had even prepared this for him. This was exactly the scenario his friends had joked about. But when it actually happened, Liam suddenly felt incredibly angry. A suffocating, irritable emotion filled his chest. Sarah woke up and saw the box in Liam’s hand. While she blushed, a flash of triumph crossed her eyes. “Liam, please don’t do this.” “I texted you to take me away, it didn’t mean anything else. I’m so sorry if I gave you the wrong impression…” But before she could finish, she watched Liam throw the small box into the trash can. Sarah’s expression stiffened. Liam said: “Do I look like that kind of animal to you?” Sarah quietly let out a sigh of relief. So, Liam hadn’t lost feelings for her. He just cherished her too much. Liam continued: “Besides, you still have to go back to Europe to build your career. How could I possibly get in the way of that?” Sarah’s face turned ugly for a fraction of a second. She tested the waters: “What if… I wasn’t planning on going back…” Before she could finish, Liam interrupted her: “Don’t lie to me. Don’t I know you? You’re someone who chases their dreams. You’re not like those women who only care about getting married and having babies.” Sarah swallowed the words she was about to say. Liam brought out the clothes Chloe had bought. Sarah looked at the clothes with a troubled expression. Liam took one look at the brand and instantly understood. He sent Chloe a text: [Sarah doesn’t like the design philosophy of this brand. She won’t wear their clothes. Go buy another set.] Liam then took Sarah out to the dining area. Looking at the table full of lavish French cuisine, Sarah frowned again. Liam sent another text to Chloe: [Sarah doesn’t eat heavy food that makes you gain weight. She just got back from abroad and doesn’t want Western food either. Go to that authentic local spot I like, get some takeout, and bring it over.] Sarah said, sounding incredibly understanding: “It’s fine. I can eat this.” Liam looked at Sarah’s pale face, his eyes full of pity. He thought for a moment, then sent another text to Chloe: [Sarah’s not feeling well. I’m taking her out to clear her head. Just to the mountains nearby. We’ll be back before our anniversary.] The person who usually replied instantly sent nothing back. Annoyed, Liam called Chloe. The phone was turned off. Had she… blocked him? Suddenly. He saw the cake on the dining table. The words on the cake made him freeze. Why did she just leave the anniversary cake here like this? A diamond caught the light and sparkled. And then, Liam saw the ring sitting next to the cake. 06 The weather was beautiful today. Perfect for traveling. Perfect for moving. Having collected my five-million-dollar severance package, I moved out with lightning speed. I guaranteed Sarah wouldn’t see my face when she woke up. I booked an executive suite at a five-star hotel and fell asleep the moment my head hit the pillow. Before sleeping, I even posted a melodramatic update on social media, announcing my breakup with Liam. When I woke up. I realized my phone had died and shut off. When I turned it back on, the notification chimes didn’t stop for a solid minute. Liam had sent me a ton of messages and left several missed calls. I skimmed through them. [Chloe, what is this supposed to mean? Throwing a tantrum now?] [Are you mad because I made you take care of Sarah?] [When I got there, Sarah was lying in the bathtub with a slashed wrist! Do you have any empathy at all?] He also sent a picture. The engagement ring I left behind had been thrown into the trash can. Along with the 5th-anniversary cake. … My eyes landed on the very last message— [If you’re so tough, then don’t ever come back!] Oh. Okay. So he was telling me not to come back. I felt completely justified in not returning Liam’s calls. But soon enough, I saw a new update from Liam on social media. The scandal surrounding Sarah’s plagiarism had blown up internationally and reached the US. The indie designer she had plagiarized, despite going by the pseudonym Sirius, was actually American. And he had just returned to the States. A blurry paparazzi photo from the airport circulated online. Black hair, green eyes, 6’2″, devastatingly handsome. The photo was quickly scrubbed from the internet, suggesting his background was quite powerful. Right in the middle of this storm. Liam posted an update: [Ants always love to see the swan suffer.] The comments were almost entirely mocking, with a few hardcore shippers mixed in. But mostly, it was just normal internet users. Sirius also posted an update: [The blind man plucked the moon from the sky, but didn’t know how to cherish it.] [So, I’m back to chase the moon again.] It was cryptic. No one really understood it. Some speculated it had nothing to do with the plagiarism scandal. After all, he wasn’t even the one who made the original post providing irrefutable proof of Sarah’s plagiarism. This post sounded more like an ambitious declaration of intent to steal someone’s girl. [Did the poster return to the US to pursue someone he likes?] The creator liked that comment. Immediately after, someone discovered that this account had posted a location tag a long time ago. It was the exact same high school Sarah attended. Someone suspected: [The poster is so forgiving… could the person he’s pursuing be Sarah?] The shippers had a field day for the first time: [The Poster: I did all of this just so you would finally notice me!] [We’ve been hating on this plagiarist for so long, and it turns out it was just a twisted lovers’ quarrel?] The comment section was a chaotic mess. But Sirius never reappeared to clarify anything. Sarah, who had been hiding like a turtle in its shell for days, suddenly popped her head out. She posted: [You cannot force love. Trying to scoop the moon’s reflection from the water will only push the real moon further away.] Suddenly, a bunch of accounts sprang up, all pushing the same narrative: The “moon” Sirius was talking about was Sarah. That dress was designed specifically for Sarah. Sirius was using the wrong method to pursue Sarah, using the false plagiarism accusation to get her attention. And so on. Meanwhile. In the hotel lobby. Someone suddenly called out to me—

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Since I was a child, I was groomed to be the perfect daughter-in-law for the Vance family. At twenty, I married Carter Vance. At twenty-four, I gave birth to our son, Liam. Liam was exactly like Carter: always quiet, a man of few words, and never very affectionate with me. Every night, before they went to bed, I would bring both father and son a cup of hot milk. But one day, Carter accidentally knocked his cup over, and Liam secretly poured his down the drain. A sudden wave of exhaustion washed over me. When I handed the divorce papers to Carter. He furrowed his brow, looking annoyed, and asked, “Just because of that?” “Yes. Just because of that.” 01 “What about our son? “What are you going to do about Liam?” Carter quickly regained his usual emotionless demeanor, asking me as if this were just another business transaction. I sat across from him, feeling more like a client at his negotiating table, and said calmly, “I’ll give up custody of him. “I’ll also transfer the deed to the estate in the Hamptons into his name. Consider it child support and compensation.” After all, the child’s last name was Vance. He and Carter looked much more like a real family than he and I ever did. Carter looked down at me, his eyes betraying very little emotion, as if he couldn’t understand what I was making a fuss about. “Maya,” he softened his tone. “If you’re still upset about the milk last night, I apologize. You know I was drunk. I didn’t mean to do that to you.” He explained it away with practiced patience, still completely convinced that this was all about a cup of milk. Last night, Carter came home very late from a business dinner. I had waited up for him half the night, and only woke up when the blast of cold air from him opening the front door hit me. I got up from the sofa. Seeing him grimacing and rubbing his temples while taking off his coat, I immediately went to the kitchen and brought him the milk I had been keeping warm. Normally, even if our marriage wasn’t exactly passionate, we at least kept up appearances. But last night, I asked one question too many: “Did you meet someone? That perfume smells familiar.” Carter suddenly let go of the glass I was handing him. Before I could react, the glass slipped from our touching fingers and shattered loudly against the floor, shattering the quiet warmth of the room. Carter’s face went ice-cold, an aura of pure irritation radiating from him. He glared at me and warned, “Maya, you’re crossing a line. “From now on, don’t wait up for me, and don’t bother making me milk anymore.” And my son, Liam, after seeing his father’s reaction, secretly poured his own milk down the drain. When I caught him, he stood in the doorway and apologized to me with the exact same emotionless expression: “I’m sorry, Mom. If Dad isn’t drinking it, I don’t want it either.” To the two of them, it was probably just a trivial, insignificant incident. I was overreacting. I shouldn’t have made such a big deal out of it. 02 I didn’t bother offering any further explanations. I signed the papers and retained a lawyer. I chose to end my marriage with Carter Vance. Carter flatly listed off numerous details regarding the division of assets. I didn’t really listen, and I didn’t care. I went back to our bedroom to pack my things. He looked down at me, studying me. “Maya, the paperwork will take time to process. You don’t have to rush to move out. You can keep this penthouse.” I looked at the man who was still as steady and cold as ever. I calmly replied using words he had once said to me: “It’s better to make a clean break, so there are no lingering attachments or unresolved issues.” Carter didn’t say anything else. I never thought packing my bags would be such an overwhelming task. The house was filled with trivial little things, every single one of them painstakingly arranged by my own hands. I took one last look around, finally deciding to just keep it simple, and dragged my suitcase toward the door. Carter stopped me. “Where are you going? “To your parents’ house? “I’ll have the driver take you.” “No need,” I declined, telling him, “Just remember to have the housekeeper clear out the rest of my things tomorrow. I won’t be dealing with them.” It’s not like their family was short on people to do the manual labor anyway. As I stepped out the front door, I paused and thought for a moment. I turned back and looked at Liam, who had been standing behind Carter this whole time, expressionless. I told him, “I won’t be picking you up from prep school anymore, but remember not to go with strangers.” I considered it providing closure for myself. After saying that, I turned and left. I didn’t take another look at the child I had held in my arms and patiently rocked through countless sleepless nights when he was crying during his weaning phase. 03 I bought a plane ticket out of New York. I randomly picked a city down South. Savannah, Georgia. From the moment I was told at fourteen that I would be marrying into the Vance family, my freedom and choices had been restricted. After I married Carter, apart from attending mandatory social galas, he never once suggested taking me out anywhere. My most common routine was waiting for my husband and son to come home every night and bringing them a cup of warm milk before bed. Everyone in our social circle said that Mrs. Vance Sr. had raised me perfectly. I was practically tailor-made to be Carter’s wife. I matched his social status, and I took immaculate care of his daily life. My only flaw was: I was too perfect. So perfect that I was boring. I seemed rigid and lifeless. I once overheard Carter’s friends teasing him. “Carter, man, what’s it like living like an old married couple when you’re still so young? “Your wife is way too boring. Even her smile looks fake. “Do you want the guys to introduce you to someone a bit more fun? “Just a few days ago, Dave met this hilarious girl. Super funny. Exactly like Chloe back in the day. What do you say, interested?” Chloe. Carter’s first love. Back then, when Mrs. Vance Sr. disapproved of their relationship, Carter fought her tooth and nail. I don’t know what happened later. They broke up, and Chloe moved all the way to London. Shortly after that, when he was twenty, Carter suddenly accepted the Vance family’s arrangement and took the initiative to propose to me. Four years later, I gave birth to Liam. Oh, right. I remember now. That familiar perfume I smelled last night was the one Chloe always used to wear. A custom blend of gardenia. 04 After finding a place to stay in Savannah. I wandered around to many different places. The Southern drizzle, the hazy, historic cobblestone streets—I delighted in every bit of it. I never expected that early on my third morning, I would suddenly receive a call from Carter. He sounded like he had just woken up, asking me in a raspy voice, “Maya, where did you put those ruby cufflinks I bought at the charity auction last year?” I paused for a second. “In the second drawer of the walk-in closet.” I asked him, “What’s the occasion?” Carter: “A ribbon-cutting ceremony for the new commercial center.” Me: “The matching suit is the fourth one in the second row.” Carter still didn’t seem fully awake. I could hear the rustling of him searching on the other end of the line, along with a few muttered complaints. I listened for a moment before asking him, “Did you find them?” The voice on the other end stopped, as if he had finally realized what was happening. “I found them. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you.” I said “Mm” and told him, “I know.” I advised him, “Have the housekeeper reorganize your closet for you. If you can’t find something again, you can ask them. “From now on, don’t call and bother me anymore.” Carter was silent for a moment before saying, “Okay.” After hanging up, I blocked his number and went back to sleep. But this time, I couldn’t sleep peacefully no matter what. I had a series of bizarre, disjointed dreams. I dreamed of laughing and playing with my classmates on the middle school campus when I was fourteen. I dreamed of the sunny day I first met Carter when I was fifteen. I dreamed of sneaking out to a drag race when I was sixteen, only to be dragged back by my dad and beaten until my legs ached. And… Another piercing ringtone. I jolted awake from the dream, irritated as I blindly reached for my phone on the nightstand. It was an unknown number. I answered it, and a polite voice inquired, “Hello, is this Liam’s mother? “I’m Liam’s teacher from his prep school. It’s like this: today the school is hosting a robotics exhibition, and Liam is participating. But he didn’t bring his project. He said his mother was preparing it for him. Would it be possible for you to bring it over for him?” The teacher was very enthusiastic. My fingers tightened around my phone. I closed my eyes, feeling an indescribable wave of exhaustion. Not long ago, I was sitting in the living room, meticulously following video tutorials frame by frame to build that robotics project for Liam. But because I left so abruptly that day, the robot was still half-finished. I looked out the window at the blazing sun and softly replied to the teacher, “I’m sorry, but I no longer have custody of Liam, and I won’t be managing his affairs anymore. “Also… is he right next to you right now?” “Ah.” The teacher sounded quite embarrassed. “Yes, yes, Liam is right here beside me.” I sighed. “Then could you please put me on speakerphone?” “O-okay.” “Thank you.” There was a rustling sound as the phone was shifted, followed by silence. I figured Liam could hear me. I spoke softly, “Liam, the robot is in the toy bin in your room. “You can call your dad to bring it to you, or you can have anyone else bring it. But from now on, I hope you won’t call me anymore. I won’t be picking you up, and I won’t be helping you with your projects. You know I’m not your mother anymore.” After finishing, I apologized to the teacher one more time and hung up the phone. 05 Saying those words to the child I almost died giving birth to still broke my heart. I couldn’t even remember when Liam started becoming more and more like Carter. My marriage to Carter was an arranged union established very early on. When I was fourteen, my grandfather and father walked out of the study with the elders of the Vance family, all beaming with smiles. From then on, I was groomed by the Vance family to be their daughter-in-law. In high school, many of my classmates envied my wealthy background. I never argued, I could only smile bitterly. I had a privileged life, but I had absolutely no freedom. When I didn’t do well on an important exam. In the middle of the night, my mom got so angry, feeling that I had humiliated her, that she burst into my room, yanked me up, and slapped me across the face. In high school, when I had a rebellious phase and started dating a boy, my dad delivered the second slap. He warned me that if I didn’t want to marry into the Vance family, I could only marry those businessmen who were nearly twenty years older than me. The first time I met Carter, I was fifteen. It was an arrangement made by our two families. Carter back then was different from how he is now. He was a boy who loved to laugh and wore his emotions on his sleeve. My impression of him wasn’t deep. I only remember a white button-down shirt under a blue sky, and a pair of incredibly expressive eyes. Later, I heard he was in a cold war with his family over his first love. I admired and envied him. At least he dared to rebel. He had the right to resist. But not long after, Mrs. Vance Sr. came to visit our house. With an elegant yet apologetic smile on her face, she held my mother’s hand and told her, “Don’t worry, the situation with Carter has already been resolved.” I hid by the door, listening, my heart sinking. I thought to myself, I knew it. After that, our families constantly arranged for Carter and me to meet. At first, he was quite resistant and never gave me the time of day. Later, he slowly accepted it, and occasionally he would say a few words to me. I watched as that prickly, rebellious boy gradually became silent and withdrawn, suppressing all his emotions. And the custom gardenia perfume he used to wear also vanished into the air as time passed. 06 It wasn’t until I was twenty and Carter was twenty-four. While we were on our way to a gala in another city, we were caught in a sudden mudslide and trapped in our car. Carter and I were buried together for a full day and night. When rescue finally arrived, my last memory was of his arm—which had been shielding my body—pierced and mangled by the crushed frame of the car. After he woke up, he proposed to me. In front of both my family and the Vance family, he asked me, “Maya, will you be my wife?” At that time, I looked at his arm, heavily wrapped in white bandages. I remembered when we were trapped in the car, how he anxiously called my name and told me, “Maya, don’t fall asleep. “If you fall asleep now, you’ll really lose your freedom forever!” Like I was possessed, I placed my hand over his. And in doing so, I ignored his lowered eyes—calm and lifeless, like he was merely completing a mandatory ritual. And so, we got married. Four years later, just as everyone wanted, we had a child. From the moment Liam was born, he was showered with love and adoration from both families. Mrs. Vance Sr. believed he needed the same elite upbringing as Carter. So, when he poured out that cup of milk, he did exactly what his father did. He used the most innocent face to say sorry to me, while doing what he believed was his absolute right. 07 I don’t know what that father and son were actually thinking. Less than a week later. I received another call from Carter. He used a different number. Because I had blocked him. Dragging things out like this didn’t seem like something Carter would do. After I answered the call, the line went dead silent for a few seconds. Just as I was feeling baffled and about to hang up. Carter’s voice came through. “Maya.” He called my name. “Your parents said you didn’t go home. Where did you go? Are you in Savannah?” He was investigating me. I knew he had the resources to do that. But I felt an unspeakable anger boiling inside me. During our long, nine-year marriage, he was cold, he was distant. He acted like a transient guest living under the same roof as me. Now, in just half a month, he had called me more times than he had in the entire past year combined. Before, when I would text him: [Are you coming home for dinner tonight?] [Are you in a meeting?] [Does your stomach hurt? Should I bring you some porridge?] He would reply with, at most: [Yeah.] The rest was just a wall of my own green text bubbles. Now, he was acting like nothing had ever happened. He asked me over the phone, his voice hoarse, “Maya, I had a business dinner today and drank too much. My stomach is killing me. Where did you put my medication in the house? “Also, Liam caught a cold from a classmate at prep school. He’s running a fever of 100 degrees and keeps crying that he feels awful. What did you usually do to make him feel better?” I was beyond angry. I suppressed my fury, trying not to sound like a hysterical lunatic, and told him word by word, “Carter, we are divorced. “I am no longer your wife, and I am not your maid. “Whether your stomach hurts or not, whether you can find your medication or not, none of that is my business. And with one phone call, you have plenty of people who would gladly buy you medicine. “If the child is sick, talking to me is useless. I’m not a doctor, and I’ve never seen a father who, at a time like this, still has to ask the mother what to do. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do. Maybe it’s bruised ego, maybe you’re just used to me taking care of you. “But Carter, I don’t want to make this ugly. We are over. Don’t ever disrupt my life again, do you understand?” After saying all that, I hung up the phone completely. I popped open the back of my phone, took out the SIM card, and threw it in the trash. 08 In today’s society, everything is tied to your phone number. I didn’t expect Carter and Liam to call me every few days. Naturally, I didn’t flatter myself into thinking Carter still had feelings for me. It was just that I had taken care of them for so long; it’s hard to break a habit instantly. I got a new SIM card and withdrew some cash. I signed up for a scientific expedition tour group and followed them on a trip through the rugged outback of the Pacific Northwest. It was a project I had seen online a long time ago. When I brought it up back then, Carter said he didn’t have time. His “friends” in our social circle had laughed and said, “That’s way too shabby. “Maya, with Carter’s status, going on such a cheap tour group would be incredibly embarrassing.” I just smiled and didn’t say anything else. At the time, I thought it was just a passing whim. The Vance family would never allow me to be so reckless and wild. I never thought that now, it would be so incredibly easy. When a shackle is broken, a bound person will start struggling from the very depths of their soul. 09 The day I headed out with the expedition team. The sky was crystal clear. We traveled by train. The train rocked back and forth for the entire journey. Every time I sank deep into that exhausting, suffocating dream, I would be slowly rocked awake. The dawn broke, piercing through the chaotic haze. The expedition took us through the Cascade Loop and down to the high deserts of Oregon. From Seattle, we went to the Olympic Peninsula, passed through the Columbia River Gorge, and stopped at the Painted Hills and Smith Rock. Mount Hood rose sharply from the forested horizon, and Crater Lake was serene under the night sky. Traveling through the high desert, crossing the passes, we saw endless miles of colorful, rugged terrain. The expedition team was primarily made up of geologists. They looked like people who weren’t good with words, yet they could talk endlessly about a pile of dirt, a blade of grass, an unknown wildflower. Sometimes humorous, sometimes witty. They filled the vast, sparsely populated Northwest with a profound, vibrant life force. Undeniably, my privileged background and those years of being groomed by the Vance family had allowed me to see many things other people never got to experience. Before, in my understanding, traveling was something that could only be enjoyable if done with family. But now, hiking through badlands and camping in the desert. Eating burnt barbecue, covered in dust and sand, I saw stars brighter than I had ever seen in my life. I knew Carter was probably still trying to track my itinerary, but that didn’t matter anymore. Later, after the Northwest loop ended, I exchanged contact info with these new friends. After resting in the city for a few days. We set out again to hike the Rockies. The moment we reached the summit of a challenging peak. I suffered severe altitude sickness. My breathing was rapid, and my head felt like it was splitting open. I almost thought I was going to die on that towering mountain range. But in the distance, the sun bathed the snow-capped peaks in gold, and everyone at the summit was cheering. In that passionate, chaotic atmosphere, I burst into loud, unrestrained sobs. The team scrambled frantically to give me oxygen and feed me high-sugar drinks. Thinking I was crying because I was in so much pain, they rushed to comfort me. “Oh man, don’t cry girl. You’re okay, you’re okay. Your blood oxygen is coming back up. Don’t be scared, we’ve got you. You’re not gonna die!” “Yeah, kiddo, you’re so young, you’re definitely fine. You’ve got a long road ahead of you. This is nothing!” I sobbed uncontrollably, but eventually, their thick Midwest accents and clumsy comforting made me break into a smile through my tears. With their help, I stood up from the snow, facing the golden sunlit peaks in the distance, facing my new life. No matter how many shackles there were, no matter how hard the journey. I could still reach the summit on my own, couldn’t I? 10 After returning, I picked up some of my old hobbies. Like extreme sports. Like auto racing. Like getting a dog I actually liked. Before I was engaged to Carter, I actually had a very carefree and lively personality. I loved everything that was full of life. But later, I didn’t even have my own freedom. How could I talk about loving anything? I got a mixed-breed Maltipoo. I named her Bella. She had a coat of soft, caramel-colored fur and innocent, big eyes. Every time she ran, her ears flopped up and down like a little propane tank. Puppies are easier to get along with than people. Puppies also understand your needs better than people do. A puppy will never give you the cold shoulder. A puppy knows you love her, and she loves you back. And the next time I saw Carter. It was at the door of my new house. I was just about to take Bella out for a walk. When I pushed open the door, I saw Carter standing by the elevator. And by his side, he was holding the hand of Liam, who was nervously staring at Bella in my arms.

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Callum traded his mind to save my life. At least, that’s what I believed. To repay that debt, I forfeited my ticket home, choosing to stay in this simulated reality just to nurse him back to health. But three years into my self-imposed exile, the man who supposedly couldn’t tie his own shoes drove a black SUV straight into me. As I lay broken on the asphalt, he stepped out of the car, his hand entwined with his “eternal flame,” the girl he’d never been able to forget. “I’ve waited so long for this day,” he said, looking down at me with eyes that were chillingly sharp. “Once you’re gone, Becca and I can take your place. We’ll have the Program. We’ll have forever.” It was a masterclass in deception. He’d never been brain-damaged. He’d been a predator in a coma, waiting for the perfect moment to steal the very System that kept me tethered to this world. What he didn’t realize was that I wasn’t staying for the perks. I was staying for the punishment. I closed my eyes and whispered to the void, “There are new candidates ready to take my place. Two of them, actually. Can you let me go now?” 1. “So, it was all an act? Every single second of it?” I was lying in a pool of my own blood, my vision blurring as I stared up at Callum. He was holding Becca close, his dark eyes devoid of the warmth I had spent three years trying to coax back into them. “Every second,” he confirmed. The tenderness was gone, replaced by a cold, efficient cruelty. “If I didn’t play the fool, how else was I supposed to keep you here? You needed to feel sorry for me. You needed to feel responsible.” “I should thank you, though,” he added, his voice dropping an octave. “If you hadn’t let slip how the Program works, I never would have found a way to save Becca.” Becca shivered in his arms, her face a pale, sickly ivory. She was his high school sweetheart, the one who’d been fighting a losing battle with leukemia for years. Callum used to tell me, “Her being sick has nothing to do with us, Rose. That part of my life ended a long time ago.” I realized now that he’d spent those three years orchestrating this. Every “stupid” smile, every “accidental” touch—it was all a blueprint for my murder. Suddenly, a white-hot agony tore through my chest. This wasn’t from the car crash. It was the System. In this reality, my “Assignment” was to make Callum love me. If his heart turned cold, the Program punished the host. It was a failsafe designed to ensure the Traveler never gave up. “It hurts…” I gasped. The sensation was like being pulled apart by horses. I’d felt it many times before, but you never truly get used to your soul being shredded from the inside out. “Is it really that bad?” Callum asked, watching me with clinical curiosity. “You’re a Traveler. Can’t you just tell your little computer to turn off the pain receptors?” His indifference was the sharpest blade of all. I remembered the nights he’d spent tucked into my side, whispering that I was his whole world. I’d fallen for it. I’d loved him so much I told him about the System—the secret of the universe—because I thought we were a team. I just never told him about the punishments. I didn’t want him to carry that guilt. The agony spiked. I bit my lip until I tasted copper. “Stop… please, just stop talking,” I wheezed. Every word of his rejection was a new physical blow. Becca stepped forward, looking down at me with wide, faux-innocent eyes. “Does it really hurt that much, Rose?” She turned to Callum, her voice a fragile trill. “Maybe we should forget about the immortality. I don’t want to cause her pain.” “No,” Callum snapped, his gaze softening instantly when it landed on her. “You’re not like her, Becca. She’s a Traveler. Even if she ‘dies’ here, she just goes back to her original world. But if you die, you’re gone forever. Don’t waste your pity on her.” When Callum wasn’t looking, Becca leaned in, a triumphant glint in her eyes. She whispered, “Did you know? I told Callum that if he said he hated you, it would make you suffer. He’s been practicing those lines for weeks.” She smirked. “He doesn’t love you. He never did. I’m the lead in this story, Rose. You’re just the understudy.” Callum pulled her back into his embrace, his touch reverent. “I finally closed on the estate at Laurel Ridge,” he told her. “It’s going to be our home. Forever.” I’d told Callum once that in my real world, I was an orphan with nothing. My only dream was to have a house with a porch and a garden. He’d bought that estate for me—or so I thought. I’d spent months picking out the tiles, the curtains, the life I thought we’d lead. And now, he wanted me dead so he could move her into my dream. I let my hand fall limp against the cold pavement. “I’ve found them,” I said to the System in the silence of my mind. “The new hosts. Take them. Just let me go.” Callum, if you don’t want me, then I’m done wanting you. 2. [System: Understood. Detecting new host candidates for transfer.] [System: Host, are you certain you wish to split the tether between these two individuals?] I looked at them. They were wrapped in each other’s arms, silhouetted by the distant glow of city lights, looking like a postcard for a love that would never end. For a flickering second, I saw the “stupid” Callum. The one who used to say, “Rose, thank you for staying. I love you.” The one who warmed my milk every night and held my hair back when I was sick. I had thought he was my anchor. I was wrong. He was the storm. “I’m certain,” I whispered. [System: Initiating transfer sequence.] “Why hasn’t the System appeared yet?” Becca asked, sounding impatient. Callum smoothed her hair. “Rose’s probably negotiating with it. Just wait. Whenever she communicates with the Program, she gets that faraway look in her eyes.” [System: Greetings, New Hosts.] The voice didn’t just vibrate in my head anymore. It echoed in the air, cold and synthesized, audible to all of us. [System: From this moment forward, you are the primary nodes. Please designate your focal point for the Bond.] “I choose Becca,” Callum said immediately. “I choose Callum,” Becca chirped. They looked so devoted. So unshakable. It reminded me of the man who once promised, “No matter what happens, I will always choose you, Rose.” Well, he was choosing someone else now. [System: Selection confirmed. However, the synchronization requires a seventy-two-hour stabilization period. You must wait.] The voice faded from their ears, returning to the private channel in my mind. [System: You have three days before extraction. I will repair the damage from the collision so you may settle your affairs in this world.] As the words faded, the agonizing heat in my limbs vanished. My shattered bones knit together with a sickening series of pops. I stood up, brushing the dirt from my clothes, and looked at Callum with a hollowed-out soul. He was beaming. “See, Becca? I told you. She can make the System heal anything. It’s perfect. We’ll never be hurt again. We’ll never have to fear death.” I looked at him, feeling a strange, cold pity. He had no idea what he had just invited in. 3. I went to the hospital to see my grandfather. In this simulated world, Grandpa Henry was the only person who had ever felt real. He was the one who gave me his life savings to help Callum buy a car. He was the one who saved his favorite candies in a jar just for me. In the hallway, I ran into Callum and Becca. They were holding hands, and Callum was clutching a printed sonogram. “It’s a miracle, Becca,” he was saying, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m going to be a father.” The words were a jagged blade through my ribs. I’d asked Callum about having a family once. Back when he was “stupid.” He’d told me, “I don’t want kids, Rose. They’re too much work. I just want it to be us.” I thought it was just the brain damage talking. Now I realized it was just that he didn’t want a life with me. He was already making plans for her while I was still dreaming of us. [System: Removing emotional feedback loop. You will no longer suffer physical pain based on the focal point’s emotional state.] As the System spoke, a literal weight lifted from my shoulders. The suffocating tether was gone. I could breathe. I was free. 4. Grandpa Henry smiled when I walked in, handing me a small plastic container. “The nurse gave me extra dumplings, Rose. Eat up, kiddo.” The tears came then, hot and fast. If I left this world, what happened to him? I couldn’t just leave him with nothing. I needed to get my money. Everything I owned—every cent I’d earned working three jobs while Callum “recovered”—was in his house. Our house. When I arrived at the driveway, I saw the housekeeper hauling black garbage bags to the curb. “Oh, Mrs. Vance,” she said, looking terrified. “Mr. Vance told me to clear everything out. He said… he said you wouldn’t be living here anymore.” I looked into one of the bags. My things were shattered. Even the plaster hand-molds Callum and I had made together on our first anniversary were smashed into white dust. I reached for the front door, but the electronic lock beeped red. “He changed the codes,” the housekeeper whispered. I felt a sharp sting in my chest, but I forced myself to take a slow, steady breath. “What’s the new code?” She hesitated, but I stared her down. “My life is in there. I’m not leaving without it.” “2018-08-12,” she mumbled. August 12th, 2018. The day Callum and Becca started dating. I took two steps back, a hysterical laugh bubbling up in my throat. Yesterday, he was sleeping in my bed, whispering that he loved me. This morning, he led me to a deserted road for a “surprise,” blindfolded me, and tried to end my life. Callum, you wanted my life so badly. You wanted the Program. But you have no idea how heavy the crown is until it starts crushing your skull. 5. I pushed the door open. Callum was there, leaning over the kitchen island, his hands on Becca’s waist. He was looking at her with a hunger I’d never seen. “I’m going to spend the rest of my life making you happy, Becca,” he murmured. My bag hit the floor with a dull thud. Even though I was done with him, seeing the intimacy we once shared being gifted to someone else felt like a physical sickness. “What are you doing here?” Callum’s voice was like ice. “You’re not welcome in this house.” His coldness made me flash back to three years ago. I had defied the System to save him, enduring “The Bone-Breaking Penalty” for weeks. I had been willing to die for him. I had planned to spend forever with him. “I’m here for my money,” I said, my voice steady. “The savings from the last five years are in your account. My grandfather’s treatment isn’t free.” Callum didn’t even stop what he was doing. He kept his hands on Becca, ignoring me as if I were a ghost. The sight was revolting, but I stood my ground. “I’ll just take what’s mine and go.” I started toward the stairs, but Becca’s voice stopped me. “Rose, wait. I thought your grandpa was doing better. Why do you need so much cash?” She looked at Callum. “She’s probably trying to smuggle assets back to her real world.” Callum’s eyes snapped to mine. “Is that it? You’re that greedy?” “I worked for that money, Callum. Every cent. It’s for Grandpa Henry.” “I’m not giving you a dime,” he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. “That money belongs to this world. You’re leaving? Fine. Leave with nothing.” I clenched my fists. “Callum, I am telling you, it’s for his surgery. I’m not taking it with me.” “Get out,” he said. “Before I have you removed.” 6. I turned to leave, but Becca hurried over, grabbing my arm. “Rose, don’t go like this. If you’re really that desperate, I can talk to him. I can lend you—” Suddenly, she threw herself backward, her head catching the edge of the marble coffee table with a sickening thwack. “Ow! Callum, it hurts!” Before I could even blink, Callum was there. He slammed into me, his shoulder catching my chest and throwing me backward. I crashed into the bar cart; a pitcher of boiling tea shattered, drenching my arm. I screamed as the heat seared my skin. “What the hell is wrong with you, Rose!” Callum roared, hovering over Becca. “If you’re pissed at me, take it out on me! Don’t you dare touch her!” The name Becca sounded like a slur coming from his mouth. He didn’t even look at the red, blistering skin on my arm. He didn’t care. “Callum, just give me fifty thousand,” I wheezed, clutching my arm. “Give me the money and I’ll disappear. If you don’t, I’ll make sure Becca never has a moment of peace while I’m still here.” “Rose!” He lunged, his hand snapping around my throat. He pinned me against the wall, his grip tightening until the air in my lungs turned to lead. “Why are you so toxic? Can’t we just end this with some dignity?” “I… just… want… the money,” I managed to choke out. He threw me to the floor like a piece of trash. “Fine. You want it? There’s a price.” “What?” I coughed, gasping for air. “Get on your knees and apologize to Becca. Properly.” I froze. I looked at the man I had loved for years. There wasn’t a trace of him left. “Fine,” I said. I dragged myself up and knelt before Becca. “I’m sorry.” I bowed my head. Suddenly, Callum’s hand was in my hair, slamming my forehead into the hardwood floor. Pain exploded behind my eyes; I bit my tongue, the taste of blood filling my mouth. “She hit her head because of you,” Callum snarled. “Now you’re even.” “Is that it?” I asked, my voice trembling. “Can I have the money now?” He pulled a debit card from his pocket and dropped it onto his shoe. “Crawl over and take it.” I didn’t hesitate. I was already at my lowest; what was a few more inches? But as my hand reached for the card, his foot came down, pinning my fingers. “God, Rose,” he spat, his voice thick with disgust. “You really are pathetic. Was it always about the money?” The tears fell then, silent and bitter. I remembered the car hitting me. I remembered his laughter. He didn’t know me at all. Suddenly, my phone vibrated in my pocket. A text from the hospital. Grandpa Henry was in critical condition. He was being rushed to the OR. I lunged for the door, but Callum grabbed my wrist, twisting it. “You’re not going anywhere. You got the money, now you’re going to earn it. Consider yourself our maid for the next forty-eight hours.” “Let go of me! My grandfather is dying!” “How convenient,” he sneered. “The second you get the cash, there’s an emergency. You’d use a dying old man as a prop? You’re sick.” “I’m not lying!” I screamed. In that moment, the System’s cold voice cut through the room. [System: Transfer protocols finalized ahead of schedule. Stabilization complete. Do you wish to execute the handoff now?]

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My mother lay in the hospital bed, her voice a mere paper-thin rasp. I froze. From the time I could talk, she had commanded me to call her “Sister.” I had done it for thirty years. It was a habit, a reflex, as natural as breathing. But this time, the look in my mother’s eyes was different. She was searching my face, waiting for something, her gaze heavy with a weight I couldn’t quite name. “Mallory,” I whispered. My mother smiled, her eyes fluttering shut for the last time. Three days later, the lawyer informed me that her entire estate—three million dollars—had been left to me. Mallory got nothing. 1. My name is June Miller. I’m thirty-two. I have an older sister named Mallory. For as long as I can remember, my mother’s mantra was the same: “Mallory’s health is delicate, June. You have to let her have her way.” Let her have her way. Those six words were the soundtrack of my life for three decades. When we were kids, if Mallory wanted my toys, I gave them up. In school, if Mallory wanted to join a certain club or take extra classes, I stepped aside. As adults, if Mallory wanted an opportunity, a connection, or even the spotlight, I retreated into the shadows. I thought this was just what sisters did. I thought it was love. Until I turned eighteen and was getting ready for college. “June, we need to talk,” my mother said, calling me into her room. She looked uncomfortable, shifting her weight. “Mallory is starting her freshman year, too, and money is tight. I was wondering if you could…” She paused, unable to look me in the eye. “Take out student loans? For the whole thing?” I felt the blood drain from my face. “Mom, what about Mallory?” “Mallory is different,” she said quickly. “With her health issues, she can’t handle the stress of a part-time job while studying. You’re different. You’ve always been the sensible one.” Sensible. There it was. The golden cage of being the “good” daughter. “Mom, loans have to be paid back. With interest.” “You’ll pay them off once you’re working,” she said, her voice breezy now that the request was out. “You’re so smart, June. You’ll land a high-paying job in no time.” I didn’t say anything. “Mallory’s tuition is twenty-three thousand a year,” my mother continued. “Plus two thousand a month for her living expenses. I simply can’t afford to pay that twice.” Twenty-three thousand a year. Two thousand a month. Over four years, that was nearly a hundred and fifty thousand dollars. “And my tuition?” I asked. “The loans will cover that, honey.” “What about my living expenses?” My mother thought for a second. “I can send you five hundred a month. Is that enough?” Five hundred. Mallory got two thousand. I got five hundred. I looked at her, and her expression was perfectly serene. No guilt, no hesitation. “It’s enough,” I said, nodding slowly. From that day on, I understood the hierarchy. In this house, Mallory and I carried very different price tags. During those four years of college, I lived on the edge of exhaustion. I took out the max in loans and worked three jobs just to eat. Mallory? My mother’s two-thousand-dollar check arrived like clockwork on the first of every month. During breaks, when Mallory came home, my mother bought her new clothes and cooked her favorite meals. When I came home, my mother would say, “June, I’m so glad you’re back. I need help with the deep cleaning and the yard work.” I didn’t complain. Truly. I just wondered why. Why was the gap so wide between two daughters? Was Mallory’s health really that bad? I watched her eat more than me, run faster than me, and party late into the night. “Mom, what exactly is wrong with Mallory?” I asked once. My mother blinked, startled. “She was very sickly as a child. It’s better now, but we have to be careful.” “Then why do I still have to give in to her?” “She’s older,” my mother said, as if that explained everything. “The older sister deserves to be taken care of.” The logic was nonsensical, but I didn’t fight it. In my senior year, I landed an internship. It didn’t pay much, but I saved every penny. After six months, I managed to pay off the interest on my first freshman loan. I called my mother, excited to share the news. “Mom, I cleared the interest!” “Oh. That’s nice.” Her tone was flat. Then, she pivoted. “June, Mallory has a big interview coming up and needs a few professional suits. Do you think you could—” I hung up before she could finish. It was the first time I had ever hung up on her. A minute later, she called back, her voice sharp. “What was that? Your sister needs a small loan, what’s the big deal?” “Mom, how much money did you give me over the last four years?” The line went silent. “I took the loans. I worked the jobs. I’m paying it all back myself. What did you give her?” “That’s different.” “How?” “She isn’t as strong as you.” There it was again. The same tired script. “Mom, what is her diagnosis? I’ve never even seen her go to a specialist.” Silence. Then, finally: “You wouldn’t understand.” She was right. I didn’t. But in that moment, I decided to stop asking. Not because I understood, but because I was tired of caring. After graduation, I stayed in the city. I found a small apartment, a steady job, and a life of my own. I didn’t ask for a dime. My mother called occasionally, but she never asked if I was okay. “June, Mallory is dating someone. His family owns a huge construction firm. Very wealthy.” “June, Mallory wants a new car. I chipped in twenty thousand for the down payment.” “June, Mallory…” Every call was a progress report on Mallory’s life. I became a ghost in my own family. A transparent observer. By the time I’d been working for three years, I had saved eighty thousand dollars. I used it to kill the rest of my student debt. That night, I sat alone in my rented apartment, eating takeout and staring at the “Loan Paid in Full” notification on my phone. No one knew. No one cared. I texted my mother: Mom, my student loans are finally gone. Thirty minutes later, she replied: Ok. By the way, Mallory wants to go to Tokyo for a vacation, but I’m a little short this month. Could you… I didn’t reply. I set the phone face down and kept eating. It finally clicked. Why was I looking for her validation? She didn’t have any to give me. Mallory was her project. Mallory was her priority. What was I? An ATM? A backup plan? A tool to be used and discarded? I didn’t know. But I knew one thing: I was done expecting anything from them. No more hoping for a “good job,” no more wishing for a “thank you.” I was on my own, and honestly, it felt safer that way. 2. When I was twenty-six, I met Nate. He was a colleague, two years older than me. Steady, hardworking, and incredibly kind. After a year of dating, he proposed. There was no diamond the size of a grape, no flash mob. Just Nate, in my tiny apartment, holding a simple gold band. “June, I don’t have much,” he said, “but I want to build a life with you. Will you marry me?” I said yes. I called my mother to tell her. “Mom, I’m getting married.” There was a long pause. “You’re dating someone? Since when?” “I told you about him, Mom. Three times.” “Did you? I must have forgotten.” She forgot. Every time I had mentioned Nate, she’d just said “Oh, okay” and moved the conversation back to Mallory’s latest drama. “When’s the wedding?” “Next month.” “So soon?” She frowned. “That won’t work. Mallory is getting some cosmetic work done next month and I need to be there for her recovery.” I checked the phone to make sure I was hearing her correctly. I was getting married, and she was choosing Mallory’s botox and fillers. “Mom, it’s my wedding.” “I’ll come after she’s settled.” “And when would that be?” “Probably the end of the month.” My wedding was on the 15th. “Mom, are you saying you aren’t coming?” “Mallory really needs me right now,” she said. “You’re just doing a local thing, right? Keep it simple. You don’t need a big production.” Keep it simple. When Mallory got married a year prior, it had been a different story. My mother took a month off work. She hand-picked the lace for the gown, tasted every cake, and obsessed over the seating chart. She gave Mallory eighty thousand dollars for a house down payment and twenty thousand for the reception. And me? “Keep it simple.” I actually laughed. “Fine. Simple it is.” I hung up. The wedding was small. A few friends, some colleagues. Nate’s parents drove in from out of state, their faces beaming with pride. My side of the aisle was empty. My mother didn’t show. My father had passed years ago. And Mallory? She sent a text: Congrats, June! Have fun. Come visit me in Chicago sometime! Come visit me in Chicago. She didn’t even know what city I lived in. The ceremony was halfway over when my mother-in-law leaned in and whispered, “June, where is your mother?” I forced a smile. “Something came up. She couldn’t make it.” She didn’t press the issue, but I saw the pity in her eyes. It stung worse than the absence. After the reception, Nate asked, “Did your mom send a gift?” I pulled a small red envelope from my purse. Inside were twenty hundred-dollar bills. “Two thousand dollars,” I said. Nate stared at it. “That’s… it?” “That’s it.” He looked like he wanted to say something, but he just pulled me into his arms instead. “I’m your family now,” he whispered. I didn’t cry. But for the first time, the tether to my mother snapped. Two thousand dollars. That was the price of my entire existence to her. Fine. I’d take my two grand and my new husband and build a life she wouldn’t be invited to. Life went on. Nate and I saved, we bought a modest townhouse, we worked. My mother’s calls followed a pattern. “Mallory got a promotion. She’s a manager now.” “Mallory’s pregnant. It’s a boy.” “Mallory bought a new SUV. Thirty thousand dollars.” I’d say “Oh” and hang up. One day, my mother actually sounded annoyed. “June, why don’t you ever ask about your sister?” “She never asks about me,” I replied. There was a silence. “She’s busy, June.” “Right. Busy being promoted, busy being a mom, busy buying cars. Busy enjoying everything you give her.” “June—” “I have to go, Mom.” I was busy, too. I was busy living a life that didn’t require her permission or her pittance. I didn’t have a million-dollar head start, but I had Nate. And I had myself. 3. Two years into my marriage, Mallory called me. It was our first real conversation in years. “June, I need a favor,” she said, her voice dripping with that practiced, upper-class condescension. “What is it?” “Mom wants to help me buy a vacation property. She’s a little short on the cash and she thought maybe you could lend us some?” I laughed. I couldn’t help it. “How much?” “Not much. Just a hundred thousand.” A hundred thousand. My mother gave me two thousand dollars for my wedding. Now she wanted me to bankroll Mallory’s second home. “I don’t have it, Mallory.” “How can you not have it? You’ve been working for years.” “I’ve been living for years. Paying a mortgage. Saving for my own future.” “Don’t be like that,” Mallory snapped. “It’s a loan. We’ll pay you back.” “Mallory, how much do you have in your savings account?” “What? That’s none of your business.” “If you have more than me, why are you asking me for money?” The line went dead quiet. Then: “Mom told me to ask you.” “Then tell Mom the answer is no.” I hung up. Less than a minute later, my mother was on the line. “June, what is wrong with you? Your sister is just asking for a little help.” “Mom, how much did you give me for my wedding?” “That’s completely different.” “How? Why is it always different?” “Mallory is buying property. She needs the capital. You already have a house. You don’t need it.” “Mom, I bought this house. I saved the down payment. I pay the mortgage. You haven’t contributed a single cent to my life since I was eighteen. Not one.” “Because you didn’t need it!” “When did I ever say that?” “Then why didn’t you ask?” I let out a cold, sharp laugh. “I asked for tuition when I was eighteen, and you told me to go into debt. I got married at twenty-six, and you gave me two thousand dollars. Why would I ask you for anything now? I know what the answer is.” “You’re just so… sensible. So independent.” “Independent?” I shouted. “I’m independent because I had to be! I’ve spent thirty years letting Mallory come first. I played the part of the good, ‘sensible’ daughter while she took everything. When is it her turn to be sensible?” My mother didn’t answer. “You wouldn’t understand,” she finally whispered. “I’m done trying to understand, Mom. I don’t have the money. Don’t ask again.” I sat on my balcony that night, watching the sun set. Nate came out and sat beside me. “You okay?” “I just realized,” I said, “that I’ve never actually been a part of that family. I was just the support staff.” He wrapped his arm around me. “You’re the heart of this family.” I didn’t cry. But a part of me—the part that still hoped for a mother’s love—finally died. I stopped answering her calls. If I did, it was “yes,” “no,” or “I’m busy.” The distance was a relief. Until I ran into my Aunt Martha. She was my father’s sister, the only one who had ever been kind to me. She was in town for a conference and we met for coffee. “June, do you know?” she asked, looking at me with a strange, hesitant pity. “Know what?” “About Mallory.” “What about her? Did she buy a private jet?” Martha sighed. “I shouldn’t say. Your mother made us promise… but it’s not right. It was never right.” “Aunt Martha, please. Just tell me.” “Mallory was adopted, June.” The world seemed to tilt on its axis. “What?” “Thirty years ago, your mother had a late-term miscarriage. A boy. She was devastated. Your father, bless him, thought a child would heal her. They went to an agency and found Mallory. She was two.” I couldn’t breathe. “And then?” “And then your mother got healthy. Two years later, she had you.” “So… Mallory isn’t hers. But I am?” Martha nodded. “Your mother always felt guilty about it. She thought Mallory’s ‘true’ family had abandoned her, so she overcompensated. She wanted Mallory to feel more loved than anyone else. As for you… well, you were hers. She thought you weren’t going anywhere. You were the one who wouldn’t leave.” The one who wouldn’t leave. The words felt like a serrated blade in my chest. “So she neglected me because she was sure of me? And she spoiled her because she was afraid she’d lose her?” “Pretty much,” Martha said. “She thought being a ‘good person’ meant loving the adopted child more.” A good person? She had abandoned her own child to prove she hadn’t abandoned someone else’s. “Why are you telling me this now?” “Because it’s gone too far,” Martha said. “She was afraid that if you knew, you’d hate Mallory.” Hate Mallory? I didn’t hate Mallory. She was just a spoiled byproduct of a broken woman’s guilt. I hated my mother. I hated that my existence was sacrificed to pay for a debt I didn’t owe. That night, I didn’t sleep. I remembered every “sensible” moment. Every hand-me-down. Every missed birthday. I wasn’t “less than.” I was just “guaranteed.” And because I was guaranteed, I was worthless.

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Eight years. That’s how long it takes to build a life with someone. I thought we were moving toward the inevitable—the house, the marriage, the family. I was pregnant, and I was happy. I never imagined that on our anniversary, my partner would storm into my ER, not with flowers, but carrying another woman in a blood-stained designer gown. The sight of them was a physical blow. Nate was in a tuxedo, looking sharper than I’d ever seen him, and his hands—the hands that had held mine every night for nearly a decade—were trembling as he clutched a wedding ring that wasn’t meant for me. In that heartbeat, the reality I’d constructed shattered. Everything he had been planning, every secret he’d kept, wasn’t a surprise for our future. It was for hers. “Jo! Please, you have to save the baby. Please,” he begged, his voice cracking. “I’ll explain everything later. Just save them.” I am a professional. I pushed the agony into a cold, dark corner of my mind and went to work. I spent hours stabilizing her, fighting the tide of her threatened miscarriage until she was finally out of the woods. But as I was preparing to end my shift, the unthinkable happened. The woman’s condition plummeted. The baby was lost. She woke up screaming, pointing a trembling finger at me, accusing me of intentional malpractice—claiming I had dragged my feet to ensure she lost the child. Nate’s grief turned into a feral, blinding rage. Before I could speak, he lunged, shoving me hard against the linoleum floor. Then, he kicked me. A heavy, brutal blow to my abdomen. As I felt the warmth of blood beginning to spread beneath me, staining my scrubs, he let out a jagged, mocking laugh. “Look at that performance,” he spat. “Playing the victim while you were carrying someone else’s brat all along?” … 1: The Accident The nurses rushed in to pull him off me, but he wouldn’t stop screaming. “You’re a murderer! You killed my child on purpose!” His voice was so loud it felt like a physical weight, triggering a rhythmic throb in my skull. My vision blurred as the ringing in my ears intensified. And the blood—it wouldn’t stop. It was a dark, terrifying crimson pool. The staff hurriedly hoisted me onto a gurney to rush me to an exam room. All the way down the hall, Nate’s relatives—people who had sat at my dinner table, people who had called me ‘family’ for eight years—chased the gurney. They hurled slurs I’d only ever heard in movies, dragging my name through the mud with every step. I lay on that cold bed, staring blankly at the acoustic ceiling tiles, a hysterical laugh bubbling in my throat. Today was supposed to be our eighth anniversary. Two months ago, I’d found out I was pregnant. I had spent weeks rehearsing how to tell him, imagining the joy on his face. Instead, the man who told me he was ‘pulling double shifts at the clinic’ was actually at his own engagement party. The tuxedo I thought he was buying for a gala, the ring I hoped was for me—they were all hers. The people screaming at the door—the aunts, the cousins I had helped with medical advice and holiday dinners—now saw me as a monster. A ‘doctor of death.’ The moment Nate realized his child was gone, he didn’t see me as the woman he loved. He saw a target. He had looked me in the eye and stomped on my stomach with everything he had. The prenatal vitamins I’d bought earlier that day rolled out of my pocket, clattering across the floor as the hemorrhage worsened. Nate is a surgeon. He’s brilliant. He knew exactly what that kind of bleeding meant. He knew it wasn’t just a ‘period.’ But he just mocked me. “So that’s why you wouldn’t sleep with me lately? Because you were already knocked up by someone else?” I tried to clench my fist, to swing at him, but my body felt like it was made of water. Dr. Sandra Jenkins, a colleague from my department, rushed in with a portable ultrasound. After a quick, frantic scan, her face went pale. “Jo, the fetus is gone. And your uterine wall… there’s a major rupture. You know what this means. We need to get you into surgery right now.” Sweating and shivering, I reached out a hand, gesturing for the consent forms. “I can’t let a patient in this state sign for a major surgery!” Sandra hissed, looking toward the door. “I know your parents passed, but your boyfriend is right outside. I’ll get him to sign.” “No!” I shrieked, my voice breaking. “I’ll sign it myself!” But the door swung open. Nate was standing there, his face a mask of cold indifference. I heard his voice clearly, echoing in the sterile hallway. “She brought this on herself. She killed a baby; maybe it’s poetic justice if she doesn’t make it.” When Sandra asked for his signature, he didn’t even flinch. “That kid isn’t mine. Go find whatever deadbeat she’s been sleeping with. I’m not signing a damn thing.” 2: The Signature “Exactly! Find her little secret lover,” his mother chimed in from the hallway. “Our Nate deserves better than a woman this toxic.” “I always knew she was trash,” another voice added. “Thank God he didn’t actually marry her. Bullet dodged.” “Eight years of free rent and sex, and she probably expected a huge payout,” someone else scoffed. “Good riddance.” Sandra was shaking with rage as she slammed the door shut, shutting out their vitriol. She handed me the clipboard. “I had no idea he was this kind of sub-human, Jo. I’m so sorry.” I signed the paper with a trembling hand, a ghost of a smile on my lips. Eight years, and I never truly saw him. How could I expect anyone else to? They were talking about a ‘payout,’ but Nate was the one who had spent years promising me the world. Since our fifth year, he’d talked about the ‘Miller-West’ wedding as if it were a royal event. He’d hold my hand and tell me I was his North Star, that he’d never marry anyone else. He used to show me news articles about couples who broke up over wedding costs or dowries, calling those men ‘weak’ and ‘failures.’ He promised me a $50,000 wedding fund, just for me, because he wanted to honor the age I was when we met. I had laughed it off back then. Now, my silence was being used as evidence of my greed. As they wheeled me toward the OR, the verbal abuse didn’t stop. It followed me like a shadow. Nate’s voice rose above the rest, cold and final. “If she dies, she dies.” As a doctor, I knew the odds. The internal damage from his kick was extensive. He hadn’t just reacted in a moment of grief; he had tried to kill me. As the anesthesia began to cloud my mind, my last conscious thought was one of pure, crystalline despair. The surgery lasted five hours. When I was finally wheeled into recovery, a swarm of local reporters were already waiting in the lobby. Nate was standing there, holding Tiffany—the other woman—looking like the picture of a grieving, wronged father. “When will Dr. Thorne be available for comment?” “Is it true she intentionally delayed treatment because she was jealous of the engagement?” The hospital security tried to hold them back, but the scandal was too juicy. The narrative was already set: I was the ‘other woman’ who couldn’t handle being replaced, the bitter doctor who violated her Hippocratic Oath for revenge. During my recovery, my room was never a sanctuary. Strangers would sneak in to take photos. Some would even shake me awake to ask for an ‘exclusive.’ And Nate? He filed an official malpractice complaint against me as the ‘victim’s representative.’ I never thought my first major legal battle would be against the man I’d shared a bed with for nearly a decade. Because I was too weak to respond, the rumors solidified into ‘facts.’ Tiffany even started live-streaming her ‘grief,’ painting herself as the innocent bride-to-be whose life was ruined by a psycho ex. Before I was even strong enough to walk, the hospital board, fearing the PR nightmare, demanded that I hold a press conference to apologize to Nate and Tiffany. It wasn’t just an apology. It was a career-ending confession of guilt. “I won’t do it,” I rasped, my voice still weak from the intubation. But they didn’t care. They scheduled the event anyway. There I was, being wheeled onto a stage, while Tiffany sat in the front row like a queen on a throne, Nate standing tall beside her, ready to watch my public execution. 3: The Report As I was wheeled out, I could hear the muffled snickers from the back of the room. Nate stepped up to the microphone, his voice echoing with rehearsed solemnity. “I don’t want much. Just an apology. Jo needs to look my fiancée in the eye and admit that she intentionally took our child’s life because she couldn’t let go of the past.” He even managed to squeeze out a few crocodile tears. I watched him from the side of the stage, my chest tightening. If I hadn’t overheard the truth while drifting in and out of consciousness in the ward, I might have still believed he was just a man broken by grief. But now I knew better. Sandra Jenkins caught my eye from the wings. She checked her phone and gave me a tiny, sharp nod. “The lab results are in,” she whispered as she helped me toward the podium. I nodded back, my heart turning to stone. The moment I reached the mic, Tiffany lunged at me, her face a mask of histrionic fury. “You destroyed my family! You killed my baby!” She swung her hand to slap me, but despite my weakness, I caught her wrist. Up close, looking into her eyes, a memory clicked. I knew this face. I let out a soft, hollow laugh. She was the ‘family friend’ Nate’s parents had tried to set him up with years ago. Back then, Nate and I weren’t public yet—my parents were gone, I didn’t have a trust fund, and his family was obsessed with status. We had kept things quiet to avoid their meddling. One Christmas, Nate had gone silent for days. He told me his family was ‘busy.’ Later, I found out it was a set-up with her. He’d shown me her picture and laughed, telling me he wasn’t interested, that he was just ‘appeasing the old folks.’ I had believed him. I shouldn’t have. In the hospital, I learned they’d been together for three of our eight years. Every ‘business trip’ he took to his hometown wasn’t to see his sick father; it was to help Tiffany find a job, to meet her parents, to build a life. She was the daughter-in-law his parents wanted. I was just the girl who’d waited eight years for a promise that was never going to be kept. He hadn’t wanted to marry me because he already had someone else lined up for the role. I gripped the microphone, looking out at the cameras. My first words were: “I admit it. I was wrong.” A wave of jeers and insults erupted from the crowd. Nate smirked, leaning back. The hospital director stepped forward, looking relieved. “Dr. Thorne, it’s good you’re taking responsibility. Apologize to the victims so we can move forward.” “Yes, just apologize,” someone shouted. “Don’t waste our time.” Tiffany started sobbing into her hands. I cleared my throat, my voice steadying. “I want to apologize to Nate. I didn’t realize that for three years, I was ‘the other woman.’ My heart goes out to Tiffany—honestly. You knew about me for three years, yet you stayed quiet, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.” The room went dead silent. “You knew he had a live-in girlfriend of eight years, yet you planned a wedding behind my back. And then, while I was in the ICU fighting for my life after Nate nearly kicked me to death, you went on social media to call me the homewrecker. So, Nate, Tiffany… do you really think you’re the ones owed an apology?” Tiffany jumped up, pointing a shaking finger. “You’re lying! You’re just trying to deflect because you’re a hack! You killed my baby! Apologize or we’ll sue you for everything you have!” Sandra Jenkins stepped onto the stage then. “The hospital has conducted a secondary internal investigation.” The security footage in the room had a blind spot—it didn’t show Tiffany’s bed directly. But Sandra, seeing the state I was in after Nate’s attack, had gone rogue. She had collected every piece of medical waste, every vial, and every blood sample from Tiffany’s room immediately after the incident. “I have the lab report that reveals the truth,” Sandra announced.

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