Category: English

By the time my biological parents finally found me, I was already twenty eight years old. The fake daughter who had taken my place was living the dream as a high society socialite. Meanwhile, I was sitting in a cheap diner, getting rejected by a mediocre blind date who thought I was getting too old. It was only after I was brought back to the sprawling Sinclair estate that I learned the whole truth. Before I was even born, our families had arranged a marriage for me. But the fake daughter had married him instead. She and the heir to the wealthy Thorne fortune were madly in love. They had beautiful children together. They were the absolute golden couple of our city’s elite circle. When the truth of our switched identities came out, she was utterly consumed by guilt. She cried so hard she could barely breathe. Her husband’s heart broke for her. He pulled her into his arms, swearing in front of everyone that she was the only woman he would ever love. My biological mother rushed over to comfort her, stroking her hair and promising that she would always be her one and only precious baby girl. I stood completely alone in the center of the grand foyer. My fingernails dug so hard into my palms that the pain was blinding. Late that night, my biological mother sat on the edge of my bed and gently urged me to let it go. To make it up to me, she promised to start looking for a suitable husband for me immediately. I stared up at the dazzling, multi million dollar crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. But for some reason, all I could think about was the dusty, flickering little lightbulb in my cramped rental apartment. I looked at her and said quietly. “Mom, I want to go home. Please let me go home.” 01 The discovery of my true identity was a complete accident. Mrs. Sinclair had traveled out to a historic countryside parish in Oakhill for a memorial service. On her way down the mountain, a torrential rainstorm hit. She took shelter under a wooden pavilion, which happened to be the exact spot where I was standing, waiting for the rain to pass. She stared at me in absolute shock for a long time. I stared right back. The reason was obvious. I looked exactly like her. Suspicion took root in her mind instantly. She hired private investigators, and the dark truth was dragged into the light. Oakhill was Mrs. Sinclair’s hometown. Twenty eight years ago, she and her husband had a massive argument, so she drove out to the country to clear her head. She was heavily pregnant at the time. The stress triggered early labor. It was a medical emergency, and she had to be rushed to a tiny, rundown local clinic. That same night, another pregnant woman went into labor at the exact same clinic. The rural hospital was incredibly underfunded and chaotic. There were no private VIP suites. The nurses were overwhelmed and exhausted. Somewhere in the madness of that stormy night, the name tags were accidentally swapped. Two infant girls lived completely different lives because of a piece of paper. Mrs. Sinclair and I took a DNA test. The results were undeniable. We were biological mother and daughter. After twenty eight years, the nurse who made the mistake had already passed away from illness. Mrs. Sinclair had nowhere to direct her grief and fury. All she could do was grip my hands, her eyes brimming with tears. “Harper, come home with mom. I swear I will make everything up to you.” Standing in the cracked pavement of my rundown apartment complex, looking at the fleet of luxury black SUVs idling behind her, I felt entirely numb. Just a month ago, I had been laid off during corporate cuts. I was stressing over how to pay rent. I was being humiliated by blind dates set up by distant relatives. And in the blink of an eye, I was the true heiress of the Sinclair empire. I was lucky in one regard. Even though my life was stolen, the working class couple who raised me were wonderful people. They never knew the truth, and they loved me as their own. But they died in a horrific car crash when I was just fourteen. I packed my meager belongings and followed Mrs. Sinclair back to the estate. I did separate DNA tests with every member of the family. Every single piece of paper confirmed the same thing. I was a Sinclair. Mr. Sinclair sighed heavily, his eyes full of regret. My biological brother, Preston, looked at me with deep pity. But it was the fake daughter, Mona, who stepped forward. She gently took my hands, her voice trembling with perfectly executed sobs. “I am so, so sorry. I stole twenty eight years of your life.” My mind drifted. Her skin was flawless and glowing. She moved with effortless elegance. Her eyes held that pure, untainted innocence of a girl who had never known a single day of struggle or hunger. Looking into her pupils, I saw the reflection of my own face. A face weathered and exhausted by years of grinding poverty. A sudden, crushing wave of humiliation washed over me. I pulled my hands out of her grip. She froze. The tears spilled over her cheeks even faster. My mother instantly threw her arms around Mona, holding her tight. “Oh, Mona, sweetheart, this isn’t your fault. You are completely innocent in this.” My father nodded in agreement. “Your mother is right. It was that careless nurse’s fault. Mona, you are too kind for your own good. Stop blaming yourself.” Preston chimed in, offering her gentle words of comfort. But Mona’s tears just wouldn’t stop falling. My mother’s heart broke seeing her cry. She cupped Mona’s face and cooed softly. “Listen to me. No matter what the blood tests say, you will always be my one and only precious baby girl.” Finally, Mona offered a watery, relieved smile. I stood perfectly still in the center of the room. The awkwardness was suffocating. I suddenly felt like I didn’t belong here. I felt like an intruder. A villain who had walked in and ruined their perfect, happy family. Later that evening, Mona’s husband, Liam, arrived. Liam was one of the most famous young billionaires in the city. Handsome, ruthless, and wealthy. Before his wedding, he constantly topped the city’s most eligible bachelor lists. After his wedding, he was praised by the media as the ultimate devoted husband. His face was completely devoid of warmth as he walked in. He immediately pulled Mona behind him, shielding her from me. His voice was like ice. “I know our grandfathers made a promise on paper decades ago. But the woman I married is Mona. I respect her, I love her, and my family will always be her shield. If you can accept reality and move on, I’ll write you a check big enough to set you up for life. But if you try to cause trouble for my wife, I promise you will regret it.” With that, he wrapped his arm around Mona and escorted her back to their own mansion. My mother took my hand, her expression sympathetic. “Mona and Liam grew up together. You can’t force love, Harper. You just have to let it go.” “I’m not holding onto anything,” I replied quietly. “It’s the modern world. People marry whoever they want.” Who in their right mind would actually care about some verbal contract made before they were born? I had spent my entire life just trying to survive. I genuinely did not have the energy to care about high society drama. My mother looked relieved. She immediately started her campaign to compensate me. She dragged me to country club luncheons, introducing me to her wealthy friends. She took me through the luxury boutiques on Fifth Avenue. She casually swiped her card on a handbag that cost more than I used to make in six months of brutal labor. When she decided my complexion looked too dull, she flew me out to a private clinic in Switzerland for high end aesthetic treatments. She hired a private nutritionist to manage my meals, telling me that a woman’s face was her greatest asset and required elite maintenance. Everything at the Sinclair estate was flawless. It was so perfect that I couldn’t even complain. She was acting exactly like a good, wealthy mother should. And just like any traditional wealthy mother, she decided I was getting too old to be single. She took it upon herself to arrange a high status marriage for me. That night, she sat in my room, excitedly detailing the profile of the man she had picked out. I stared at the blinding crystal chandelier above us, and all I felt was an aching nostalgia for the dim, cheap lighting of my old life. “Mom,” I said softly. “I don’t want to get married. Please, just let me go back to my apartment.” 02 She flat out refused. Her face tightened with sudden anger. “Go back to what apartment? This is your home!” She looked at me, deeply offended. “Harper, your father, your brother, and I are doing everything we can to make this right. Have we treated you badly? Are we not giving you enough?” A lump formed in my throat, choking off my words. Of course they were giving me things. But when I politely asked a maid to boil me a simple bowl of noodles, she smiled to my face. Five minutes later, I heard her whispering in the kitchen. “Does she actually think she’s the lady of the house? Making me cook her noodles like a peasant. A high school dropout playing pretend in a mansion. It’s pathetic. She’s not worth a single hair on Mona’s head.” When my mother ordered my limited edition handbag, the sales associate asked if she wanted the rare crocodile skin version delivered as well. My mother replied without hesitation. “No. I’ve been on the waitlist for that crocodile bag for six months. Save that one specifically for Mona.” When the kitchen staff asked her about my daily supplements. “Ma’am, should we prepare the private reserve Swiss tonics for Miss Harper today?” Her answer was casual. “No, keep the Swiss reserves for Mona. She’s pregnant, her body needs the absolute best. Give Harper the domestic brand. The quality is a bit lower, but it’s fine for her.” Were they treating me badly? They were giving me everything a rich daughter was supposed to have. But they would always, without fail, give the very best to Mona. If I pointed any of this out, I would just sound greedy and ungrateful. I stayed silent for a long time. My mother sighed, looking at me like I was a massive disappointment. “Fine. Just don’t say things like that anymore. It breaks our hearts! The man I arranged for you is Liam’s younger brother. He’s brilliant, self made, and incredibly successful. Marrying him will secure your future forever.” 03 I met Liam’s younger brother, Declan. His business acumen was just as terrifying as his older brother’s. Naturally, he was viewed by everyone as the ultimate, flawless catch. In my past life, men like him existed in a completely different universe. But right now, this man was sitting across from someone he clearly viewed as trash. He despised me. It was written all over his face. His posture was rigid, his expression freezing cold. He didn’t bother with pleasantries. “I already have a woman I care about. The only reason I am agreeing to marry you is to permanently eliminate a headache for her.” I thought about the family dynamics for a second. “The woman you care about… is Mona, isn’t it?” His eyes narrowed dangerously, the temperature in the room dropping. That confirmed it. He leaned back in his chair. “I came here today to set the rules. I will marry you. I can guarantee I won’t sleep around or publicly embarrass you. I will give you the respect and status of being my wife in public. But do not ever expect me to fulfill any actual marital duties. And understand this clearly. My family has already overcompensated you. If you harbor even a shred of malice toward Mona, I will destroy you.” Every word out of his mouth dripped with absolute arrogance. A brilliant, wealthy CEO was willing to sacrifice his own marriage just to ensure his beloved sister in law lived a peaceful, untroubled life. Everyone in this elite circle bent over backward to protect Mona. They would happily throw their own lives away to guarantee her happiness. It was honestly hilarious. He thought he could just dictate his own marriage, and dictate mine along with it. But I already had someone in my heart. A year ago, he jumped into a freezing lake to pull three drowning children to safety. He managed to push them onto the ice, but his own strength gave out. He sank to the bottom of the lake. He was gone. A bitter ache squeezed my chest. I let out a dry, mocking laugh. “Declan, you really paint yourself as some kind of tragic hero. You think you’re making this massive, noble sacrifice. But what makes you think I have to accept whatever scraps you throw at me?” “What makes you think I even want you?” Declan froze, completely caught off guard. I stared him down. “I never planned on getting revenge on anyone. You’re willing to throw your life away for Mona, but I’m not playing your game. I reject your offer. If you really want to clear your conscience and settle debts, do me one favor. Look into your company records. You had an operations manager named Finn. See if he left any personal belongings in his desk before he died. If he did, send them to me.” 04 I made my stance explicitly clear. But Declan clearly didn’t believe me. He thought I was playing hard to get, which only deepened his disgust. I couldn’t care less. I went back to the Sinclair estate. The moment I walked through the doors, loud, cheerful laughter echoed from the living room. Mona had brought her fraternal twins over to visit her parents. The two beautifully dressed toddlers were giggling on my mother’s lap. My mother’s face was bright red with joy. When I walked in, Mona stiffened. But she quickly recovered, putting on a sweet smile and telling the kids to say hello to “Auntie Harper.” Mona gestured to a row of garment bags nearby. “Mom, those couture gowns you sent over are stunning. Your taste is flawless. I wore one to the gala last night, and everyone was asking about it. I know those designers have impossible waitlists.” My mother beamed with pride. “Of course, darling. The harder it is to get, the more my precious girl deserves it. Actually, your Aunt Victoria bought those in Paris. She sent them specifically as a welcome home gift for Harper. But to be honest, Harper doesn’t have the aura to pull them off yet. It would be a waste of good fabric. I knew they would look absolutely perfect on you.” Mona’s smile vanished instantly. The room fell into a dead silence. My mother suddenly realized what she had just confessed out loud. She turned to look at me, panic flashing in her eyes. Mona immediately started stammering apologies. She grabbed her kids and practically fled the house. When Preston came home later, he looked confused. “I just saw Mona pulling out of the driveway. Her eyes were completely red. Did someone say something to her?” He shot me a vicious glare. My mother awkwardly explained the situation with the dresses. Preston’s face relaxed, and he quickly jumped to defend my mother. “You made the right call, Mom. Mona is the only one who can do justice to those pieces. Giving them to Harper wouldn’t honor Aunt Victoria’s gift anyway.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Whatever. I’ll just have my assistant send over some regular seasonal clothes for Harper tonight.” Preston kept his word. A delivery arrived at my door that evening. But the timing was a disaster. At the exact same moment, a courier from the Thorne estate arrived. The courier handed me the pristine garment bags containing Aunt Victoria’s couture gowns. “Mrs. Thorne asked me to return these. She said she has already taken twenty eight years of your life, and she refuses to take a single thing more.” Before I could even reject the bags, the courier bowed and hurried away. I looked up and met Preston’s eyes. They were dark with absolute fury. That night, he completely lost his mind. He grabbed a pair of heavy fabric shears and violently shredded every single dress in the room. The ones he bought, and the ones Mona returned. He cut them all to ribbons. He pointed the scissors at me, his voice dripping with venom. “Do you have to fight her for every single thing?! A few pieces of fabric, and you have to make her feel guilty enough to return them? How can you be so incredibly selfish?!” I watched him throw his tantrum with dead eyes. A thirty year old man acting like a spoiled toddler. It was absurd. “I never asked for them,” I said flatly. “And I never accepted them.” “Stop lying!” he roared. “Mona is sensitive! If you hadn’t sat there looking pathetic and greedy, she never would have sent them back. You truly are just a classless, uneducated street rat!” He slammed the door so hard the walls shook. Downstairs, the maids quietly emerged to sweep up the shredded fabric. I stood alone in the center of my bedroom. I had survived twenty eight years of grinding poverty. I had swallowed hardships a million times worse than a rich boy’s temper tantrum. When my adoptive parents died, I spent countless nights crying in the dark because I couldn’t afford to finish high school. I didn’t have any tears left to cry. But looking down the long, empty hallway toward my parents’ master suite, a sharp needle of pain pierced my chest. Preston’s screaming had echoed through the entire house. They definitely heard him. But neither of them stepped out to stop him. Neither of them came to check on me. I looked out the window at the pale, cold moon. The night felt freezing. 05 The next morning, my mother felt a pang of guilt. She insisted on taking me to the luxury boutiques to buy me a whole new wardrobe. When we walked out of the store, chaos erupted. A sleek sports car suddenly lost control, blowing through a red light and hurtling straight toward a little boy crossing the street. Without a single thought, I dropped my bags, sprinted across the asphalt, tackled the kid, and rolled us both hard into the thick bushes of the median. The boy burst into terrified tears. Thankfully, he didn’t have a single scratch. My back, however, felt like it had been hit with a sledgehammer. I knew my spine was covered in massive, deep purple bruises. The panicked parents rushed over, thanking me profusely. I waved them off, wincing as I stood up. When I raised my head, I saw Declan stepping out of a black Bentley parked by the curb. His eyes were incredibly dark, flashing with genuine shock. He slowly walked over to me. His voice was entirely different from our first meeting. “That was incredibly brave.” I didn’t have the patience to deal with him. I turned to walk away, but his hand clamped down on my wrist. He stared at me for a long time. The sunlight hit his back, casting his face in shadow, but his eyes were burning with an intensity I hadn’t seen before. “You’re bleeding.” I looked down. My entire forearm was scraped raw and bleeding heavily. I violently ripped my arm out of his grip. “Mind your own business.” Despite my rejection, Declan showed up at the Sinclair estate that evening. He brought a highly sought after private orthopedic specialist to examine my injuries. My mother was absolutely thrilled. Her attitude toward me immediately softened. She sat on my bed and told me that Aunt Victoria was flying back from Europe next week. Aunt Victoria ran the family’s international branches, and the family was throwing a massive welcome banquet for her. Aunt Victoria was a terrifyingly successful businesswoman. She was actually more brilliant than my father. But my grandparents were old fashioned and believed the empire should be inherited by a male heir, so they left her with a much smaller percentage of shares. Thankfully, she and my father had a strong bond. For decades, the siblings had ruthlessly defended the company together. “Being a career woman is exhausting,” my mother sighed. “Mona used to want to join the board. She even went to London for her MBA. But after one year at the headquarters, she was so drained she quit. She decided focusing on her family and her marriage was better. And your brother… well, he’s the heir, so he has no choice. If he could, he’d probably prefer Mona’s lifestyle too.” I tuned out her voice. What was wrong with being a powerful woman like Aunt Victoria? Every time I saw female executives on the news, I felt a deep, burning admiration. But I also knew reality. Admiration didn’t magically grant you the skills or the power to sit in those boardrooms. I was a high school dropout. The realization hit me like a physical blow, leaving me drowning in shame. 06 The night of Aunt Victoria’s banquet, the entire New York elite showed up. When Aunt Victoria saw me, her sharp eyes immediately softened with tears. She had already been briefed on everything. She took both of my hands in hers and looked at me deeply. “You have survived so much pain.” Just hearing those words, my throat locked up. My eyes burned. She squeezed my hands. “You are incredibly strong.” Out in the main ballroom, Mona and Liam walked arm in arm. They were instantly surrounded by a crowd of admirers, looking like absolute royalty. My parents were busy showing off Mona’s twins to their wealthy friends. No one spared a single glance for me. It felt like I was genetically programmed to be shoved into the dark, invisible corners of every room. But Aunt Victoria saw me. She pulled me aside and talked to me for over an hour. Halfway through the night, my mother finally remembered I existed. She walked over, dragging the twins by the hands, and told me to play with them. She said we needed to bond as a family. I felt absolutely nothing for those kids. I awkwardly patted their heads, made an excuse, and walked out to the pool terrace to get some fresh air. After standing in the cool breeze for a while, I went inside to use the restroom. When I walked back out to the terrace, pure chaos had erupted. The little girl twin had fallen into the deep end of the pool. Fortunately, she was pulled out immediately. Right now, she was shivering and screaming in Mona’s arms. My mother was frantic. “What the hell happened?! Weren’t the maids watching them? How did she fall in?!” The adults’ panicked shouting terrified the little boy twin. He started sobbing uncontrollably. Then, he pointed a trembling finger right at me. “It was Auntie Harper! Auntie Harper pushed her into the water!” Before I could even open my mouth to defend myself, my mother’s hand cracked across my face.

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My EMT license was pending renewal. According to the regulations, I wasn’t allowed to perform any medical rescues off-duty during this transition period. But that day, in our neighborhood park, my neighbor’s toddler was choking on a whole grape. His little face turned from bright red to deep purple, and his cries completely cut off. How could I care about regulations at a moment like that? I rushed over and used the Heimlich maneuver, dragging the boy back from the brink of death. I thought I had saved a life. Instead, he immediately reported me to the board for “unlicensed and unauthorized practice.” The EMS Association fined me two thousand dollars. My company fired me, and I was blacklisted across the industry. But Richard didn’t stop there. He showed up at my doorstep with a bunch of fake medical reports, demanding fifty thousand dollars. “Who knows if those rough chest thrusts damaged my son’s internal organs? I’m just protecting my legal rights. Is there a problem with that?” Two weeks later, his son had a severe febrile seizure in the middle of the night. The boy was shaking violently, barely breathing, on the verge of death. Richard fell to his knees outside my apartment, banging his head against my door, begging me to just take one look at his son. I leaned against the doorframe, pulled out my phone, and calmly dialed 91

Then, looking down at him, I whispered: “I’m sorry, Richard. My license still hasn’t come through. If I accidentally hurt your precious golden boy, I definitely can’t afford another fifty-thousand-dollar lawsuit.” 1 “Ethan, don’t you dare talk to me about saving my son’s life! Your EMT license was expired, yet you still dared to touch him. That’s practicing medicine without a license!” I stood in the community association’s meeting room, my head spinning. Standing across from me was my neighbor, Richard Miller. He was holding his two-year-old son, Leo—the same boy who had almost choked to death on a grape in the park yesterday afternoon. Richard’s finger was practically poking my nose. “Richard, yesterday in the park, your son’s face was literally purple! You were on your knees, crying and grabbing my leg, begging me to save him!” I forced down the white-hot anger flaring in my chest and tried to reason with him. “I did it to save his life. It was an absolute emergency. I didn’t have time to think about paperwork!” “Cut the crap!” Richard raised his voice, his booming shout rattling the window panes. “You run safety training classes. Without an active license, you’re a rogue operator! Who knows if your technique was even correct?” He took a step back with a look of pure disgust, shielding his child. “What if you broke my son’s ribs? What if you damaged his internal organs? Don’t you know how fragile a toddler’s bones are?” My fists clenched so hard my knuckles popped. “You are twisting the truth! I pass my examinations every single year. It’s just that this year’s physical license is still processing in the state database!” Next to us, Mr. Vance, a representative from the EMS Licensing Board, cleared his throat and slammed a formal disciplinary letter onto the table. “Ethan, regardless of your intentions, the fact remains that your license was inactive at the time of the incident.” Mr. Vance spoke with a cold, bureaucratic tone. “According to board regulations, performing professional emergency procedures without an active license is a severe violation. You are hereby fined two thousand dollars, and a disciplinary notice will be sent to all industry employers.” I turned to Mr. Vance, unable to believe what I was hearing. “Mr. Vance, he wasn’t my patient! This was a Good Samaritan act in a public park!” “That doesn’t matter. You are a trained professional, which means you are held to professional standards,” Mr. Vance interrupted coldly. “You used professional techniques yesterday. That makes it a professional act. No active license means a violation. Period.” Richard raised his chin triumphantly, letting out a nasty sneer. “Hear that? Even the board says you’re wrong! I’m just looking out for public safety and following the rules. Am I wrong?” My wife, Chloe, who had been standing silently behind me, suddenly tugged hard on my sleeve. “Ethan, just apologize to him.” I spun around, staring at her in shock. “Chloe, what did you just say?” Chloe frowned, her face full of impatience as she whispered harshly. “You knew your license was pending! Why did you have to play the hero? That two thousand dollars was supposed to go toward our car payment this month!” My heart went cold. “I saved his son’s life, and you want me to apologize?” “Richard is just being a protective father. Is it a crime for a dad to be cautious?” Chloe shoved me behind her and turned to Richard with a desperate, fake smile. “Richard, I am so incredibly sorry. Ethan was just acting on impulse. Please don’t hold it against him.” Richard rolled his eyes, letting out a self-righteous snort. “Chloe, I’m only letting this go because we’re neighbors. Otherwise, I’d take my son for a full-body CT scan, and you’d be footing the bill!” “Of course, of course. Thank you so much for being so understanding,” Chloe nodded repeatedly, her voice dripping with gratitude. Staring at Chloe’s submissive face, she felt like a complete stranger. “I am not apologizing, and I am not paying that fine.” I shook off Chloe’s hand and glared at Mr. Vance. “You are rewarding a parasite.” Mr. Vance pointed a finger at me. “Ethan, with that attitude, your paramedic credentials will be permanently revoked. You will never work in this field again!” Chloe panicked and shoved me hard. “Ethan, have you lost your mind? Are you trying to ruin this family?” I stumbled back from her shove, hitting the water cooler. My back flared with pain. Richard held his child, watching me with a smug, victorious grin. “Ethan, I suggest you pay the fine quickly. I already posted the details in the neighborhood Snapchat group. Everyone knows you’re an unlicensed, dangerous fraud now.” I gritted my teeth, looking him dead in the eye. “Richard, aren’t you afraid of karma?” “Karma? I follow scientific parenting and legal regulations. What do I have to fear?” Richard let out a cold laugh, turned, and walked out. At the door, he threw one last comment over his shoulder. “Keep away from my son from now on. Who knows what kind of bacteria you’re carrying.” 2 The moment we got home, Chloe slammed the front door so hard the walls shook. “Ethan, did you skip your meds today? Would it kill you to just swallow your pride?” Chloe ripped off her coat, pointing a finger directly at my face. “Two thousand dollars! That’s almost my entire monthly paycheck! And you just threw it away to play the damn hero!” Looking at her throwing a tantrum, I felt a deep, bitter irony. “That was a child’s life! If I hadn’t stepped in, that boy would be dead!” “If he died, it would have been Richard’s own fault for not watching him! What does that have to do with you?” Chloe ran her hands through her hair in sheer frustration, pacing up and down the living room. “Now look at us! The entire neighborhood thinks you’re some unlicensed psycho. I’m embarrassed to even step outside!” I ignored her, pulled out my phone, and opened Snapchat. The neighborhood group chat was already blowing up. Richard had posted a massive, text-heavy story with a sensational headline: *WARNING! An unlicensed, rogue EMT is lurking in our neighborhood, using violent ‘rescues’ to assault children!* In the post, he vividly described how I had “ripped” his son from his arms and “brutally assaulted” the boy under the guise of the Heimlich maneuver. He even hinted that I had staged the choking incident in the park to drum up business for my private safety training courses. The neighbors were quickly jumping on the bandwagon. *”Oh my god, that’s terrifying. How did someone like this get hired in our community?”* *”I support Richard! We need to ban these unlicensed frauds!”* *”I heard the licensing board fined him two thousand dollars. He must have done something truly sick.”* Reading these venomous comments, my hands and feet went numb. Just yesterday afternoon, the reality was entirely different. Yesterday, I was walking my five-year-old Golden Retriever, Buddy, in the park. Suddenly, I heard blood-curdling screams from a nearby lawn. I ran over and saw Richard kneeling on the grass, holding his two-year-old son. The boy’s face was a dark, suffocating purple. His little hands were clawing at the air, his lips turning black, and not a single sound could escape his throat. An empty plastic container of grapes lay open on the grass next to them. An obvious airway obstruction. Without a second thought, I tied Buddy’s leash to a nearby tree and rushed over. I grabbed the boy from Richard’s trembling hands and positioned him. I wrapped my arms around him from behind, made a fist with one hand, placed the thumb side against the boy’s abdomen—just above his belly button—and cupped my fist with my other hand. I delivered quick, upward thrusts. One, two, three, four, five. *Cough!* With a weak, desperate cry, a whole grape flew out of the boy’s mouth, rolling onto the grass. The color slowly returned to the child’s face as he gasped greedily for air. Richard had collapsed onto the grass, clutching my legs, weeping hysterically. “Ethan, you’re a saint! You’re my son’s savior! I owe you everything!” Yet, in less than twenty-four hours, the “saint” had become a violent child abuser. “What are you looking at? Haven’t you embarrassed us enough?” Chloe snatched the phone out of my hand and threw it onto the sofa. “I just went down to the garage. Someone slashed my car tires!” She pointed out the window, her eyes bloodshot with rage. “It was definitely someone from the neighborhood! And it’s all because of you!” I looked at her coldly. “So?” “So you are going to apologize to Richard right now! Buy some expensive gift baskets, go to his house, and beg him to take down that post!” Chloe ordered, her voice shrill. “Why should I? I did nothing wrong.” “Nothing wrong? Being unlicensed is wrong!” Chloe stepped closer, her teeth clenched. “Ethan, let me make this clear. If you don’t apologize tomorrow, we are done!” I looked at the woman I had shared a bed with for three years. “Fine. Then we’re done.” 3 The next morning, the moment I arrived at the safety training center, I felt the suffocating atmosphere. Jenna at the front desk avoided my gaze, and several of my colleagues were whispering in a corner. Before I could even sit down at my desk, the owner’s office door flew open. Richard walked out, accompanied by three wealthy-looking young fathers, looking incredibly aggressive. “Everyone, look closely! This is your ‘star instructor’!” Richard held up an enlarged printout of the board’s disciplinary notice against me. “He doesn’t even have an active license, yet he’s out there violently compressing toddlers’ stomachs!” My colleagues immediately started whispering and pointing at me. Our boss, Mr. Peterson, followed behind them, sweating profusely and trying to pacify them. “Mr. Miller, please calm down. I assure you our center will handle this matter with the utmost severity.” “Severity? You’re keeping a dangerous fraud on your payroll?” one of the wealthy fathers sneered. “We paid premium tuition for our corporate safety training. If you’re going to let an unlicensed criminal teach us, we want a full refund immediately, and we will report you to the Better Business Bureau!” I walked over and snatched the printout from Richard’s hand. “Richard, have you had enough?” I stared into his eyes, my voice like ice. “I will say this one last time. You were on your knees begging me to save your son.” “Bullshit!” Richard yelled back, stepping into my space. “I was in shock! If I knew you were an unlicensed hack, I would have waited for the ambulance rather than let your filthy hands touch my boy!” He spun back to Mr. Peterson, demanding: “Mr. Peterson, if you don’t fire him today, I will make this local news. I’ll make sure your center goes bankrupt!” Mr. Peterson wiped the sweat from his forehead and looked at me, his eyes cold. “Ethan, go to HR, collect your final paycheck, and don’t bother coming in tomorrow.” I froze. “Mr. Peterson, I’ve worked here for four years. I’ve trained thousands of students without a single complaint. You’re firing me over this ridiculous, manufactured drama?” “Ethan, the company has to look at the bigger picture,” Mr. Peterson replied, avoiding my eyes. “The fact is, your license was inactive, and you were fined. We cannot let your personal mistakes ruin our brand’s reputation.” “Hear that? Now pack your shit and get out!” Richard mocked, letting out a loud laugh. Looking at Mr. Peterson’s indifferent face, I realized any further explanation was pointless. “Fine. I’m leaving.” I packed my personal belongings into a cardboard box and walked out of the building. The cold autumn wind hit my face like tiny knives. I walked aimlessly around the city for two hours before dragging my exhausted body back to the apartment. I pushed the door open. The apartment was dead quiet. Usually, the moment I unlocked the door, Buddy, my five-year-old Golden Retriever, would run over, wagging his tail and leaning against my leg. Not today. “Buddy?” I set the box down and searched the living room and bedroom. Nothing. His bed was gone. His leash was gone. Even his food bowl was missing. Just then, the front door opened, and Chloe walked in carrying takeout. Seeing me, she startled. “Why are you home so early?” I stared at her. “Chloe, where is my dog?” Chloe avoided my eyes, putting the takeout on the table. She spoke in a casual, uncaring tone. “Oh. I gave him away.” “You did WHAT?!” I rushed over and grabbed her arm. Chloe shook me off impatiently. “I dropped him off at the county animal shelter. He’s not going to die.” My chest tightened painfully. “Are you insane? Buddy has been pampered his whole life. You threw him into a high-kill shelter?” “What choice did I have?!” Chloe suddenly screamed back. “Richard posted in the neighborhood group that dogs carry rabies and bacteria that could infect his recovery! He said the dog’s dander was a health hazard to his traumatized child!” She glared at me, completely self-righteous. “The HOA came knocking on our door this morning, demanding we remove the dog immediately! Should I have waited for them to fine us or break our door down?” “You actually believed Richard’s lies? Who the hell is he to dictate our lives?!” I turned and bolted for the door. “Ethan, stop throwing a tantrum!” Chloe grabbed my arm. “He’s just a stupid dog! Once this drama blows over, I’ll buy you a new one!” “Let go of me!” I snarled, ripping my arm away. 4 I searched the county animal shelter for three agonizing hours. The sky was pitch black, and the wind was freezing. The shelter volunteer told me they did receive a Golden Retriever matching Buddy’s description earlier that day. However, because they were short on cages, they tied him up in the yard temporarily, and he had managed to break his leash and escape. I searched the surrounding fields and woods, calling his name until my throat was raw. I couldn’t find Buddy. All I found in the brush was a piece of his torn, bloody leash. Clutching that torn leash, I felt an empty, hollow ache in my chest. Buddy was my dog before I even met Chloe. He had stayed by my side through my darkest, loneliest nights. And now, because of a malicious neighbor’s lie and a cowardly woman’s betrayal, his life was on the line. I stood up, wiped my face, and took a cab back to our neighborhood. As I crossed the courtyard, Richard suddenly stepped out from the shadows. He was holding a medical report, blocking my path. Several neighbors who were out walking their dogs immediately gathered around. “Ethan! Perfect timing!” Richard slammed the medical report against my chest. “My son has been complaining of stomach pain all day. The doctor said he has suspected internal bruising!” He pointed his finger at my chest, his face contorted in anger. “Your violent, amateur chest thrusts did this! You weren’t saving him; you were assaulting him!” I looked at the report. It was utterly ridiculous. “The Heimlich maneuver naturally causes abdominal soreness. That is a standard, non-life-threatening side effect. Compared to him suffocating to death, a little soreness is nothing!” “Soreness? My son never complained of stomach pain before you touched him!” Richard bellowed, ensuring the crowd heard every word. “Let me tell you something, Ethan. I’ve already consulted a lawyer. You are going to pay us fifty thousand dollars for his ongoing medical bills and emotional trauma!” He stepped closer, a cruel smirk on his face. “If you don’t pay, I’ll show up at your wife’s office tomorrow with giant protest signs. I’ll make sure she gets fired, and you both become social pariahs!” Chloe, who had just come down to look for me, heard his threat. Her face drained of all color. She rushed over, grabbing my arm and pulling me down. “Richard, we are so sorry! It’s all our fault!” Chloe’s voice was shaking with pure terror. “Please don’t come to my office. I beg you. We will pay. We will get you the money!” I shook her off with a violent jerk. Chloe stumbled back, then turned on me, screaming: “Ethan! Would it kill you to just bow your head? Are you trying to destroy my life?!” I froze. I slowly turned my head and looked at Chloe’s twisted, cowardly face. To protect her own reputation and job, she didn’t hesitate to throw me under the bus. I stood up straight and looked at her. “Fifty thousand dollars? In your dreams.” I turned to Richard, my voice incredibly calm. “Go ahead and sue me. Let’s see what a judge has to say.” Without another word, I turned and walked away. Chloe screamed my name in rage behind me, but I didn’t even look back.

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I’d just boarded an international flight, my body still aching from an abortion hours earlier, when my phone buzzed. A notification from Penn, my billionaire husband. He’d sent fifty-two dollars. “Serena forgot your sister’s surgery fees,” his message read. “This covers it. Your oversight. Next time, clear expenses over two hundred with Serena.” “No reply? Don’t think carrying my child gives you free rein. Tomorrow, state publicly your sister’s crisis wasn’t Serena’s fault. Delaying surgery a few days—what’s the harm?” I stared, hollow, then shut off the screen and leaned against the cold window. Seconds later, my phone erupted—relentless calls and texts. “Where are you? Pick up, or I’ll have your paralytic sister thrown out!” When silence answered, Penn panicked. He raced to the care facility; my sister was the anchor that kept me tethered. Bursting into her room, he found an empty bed. Grabbing a nurse, his voice shook: “Where is she?” The nurse blinked. “You didn’t know? Critical last night. Family couldn’t raise funds in time. She’s dead.” Penn froze, blood draining from his face. Then he remembered: five days ago, my sister crashed. I begged for three hundred thousand. His secretary Serena hid the request. When he chose her over us—and I said I wanted a divorce—I meant every word. … “Stop playing games,” Penn had replied coldly. He hadn’t even looked up from his laptop when he said it. The rows of boring electronic data on his screen seemed infinitely more captivating than the woman standing before him. I kept my eyes lowered, my voice quiet but unyielding. “I am not playing games, Penn. I want a divorce.” He exhaled a heavy, irritated sigh and finally stood up, his face a mask of cold indifference. “You’re screaming for a divorce over a minor misunderstanding?” When I didn’t answer, his brow furrowed deeper. “I was the one who authorized the temporary suspension of your sister’s treatment. It had nothing to do with Serena. She was only following my orders.” “If you hadn’t barged into the office and made a scene a few days ago, I wouldn’t have had to teach you a lesson.” “I’ve already instructed them to resume her treatment. I’m busy, Nora. I don’t have the time or patience for your tantrums.” Without waiting for my reply, he grabbed his coat and walked out, entirely convinced that my demand for a divorce was merely a desperate bid for attention. He was certain that, before long, I would crawl back to him, pleading for his forgiveness. Had Penn picked up my call three days ago with even a shred of humanity, I might still be bowing my head to him, enduring his coldness just to keep my sister alive. I remembered standing in the sterile, fluorescent-lit hospital corridor, my pregnant belly aching, begging him not to hang up. “Penn, please. Just lend me three hundred thousand dollars. This surgery is everything to Hazel. If it succeeds, she’ll be able to walk again.” His response had been nothing but impatience and irritation. “How many times do I have to tell you? If you need money, go through Serena. Why are you bothering me with this?” But getting money from Serena had always been an exercise in humiliation. “Three hundred thousand is a massive sum, Nora,” Serena had said, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. “You don’t even have an itemized billing statement yet. How can I verify this money is actually going toward a surgery?” I had explained that it was a pre-admission deposit, and the official itemized bill could only be printed after discharge. She had smiled, a small, patronizing curl of her lips. “I’m not doubting you, dear. It’s just that I’ve seen people falsify records before. Penn’s reputation is priceless, and I have to protect his assets.” “Besides, Penn has a strict rule. Any personal expense exceeding two hundred dollars must be reported to him. Go get the hospital’s official seal on those forms first, and then I’ll see about submitting it.” By the time I obtained the necessary paperwork and called her to follow up, she acted as though she had only just remembered. “Oh, Nora, I’ve been so incredibly busy. It completely slipped my mind. You don’t mind, do you?” Because of that “slip of the mind,” Hazel missed her window for a matching kidney donor. The doctor had told me it was her absolute last chance to receive a compatible organ. Because the funds never arrived, my sister’s only hope of survival was snuffed out. At that moment, I knew I was done. Standing at the study door, I called out to Penn one last time. “Tomorrow morning at ten. I’ll see you at the family court.” Penn paused, looking back at me with cold, dismissive eyes. “Nora, before you use divorce to threaten me, you’d better remember who pays for your life.” “Your sister’s ongoing care costs a fortune, and you’re carrying my child. Don’t paint yourself into a corner you can’t climb out of.” Before the words had even left his mouth, his phone rang. He answered it, his voice instantly softening into a tone he had never used with me. “Serena? It’s not your fault. I made the rules. If she wants to blame anyone, she can blame me.” “Don’t cry. I’ll take you out tomorrow. You can buy whatever you want.” Listening to him coax her so tenderly, a sharp, stabbing pain blossomed in my lower abdomen. Over the past few days, I had been so frantic about Hazel that I had completely missed my own prenatal check-up. My phone buzzed. It was an automated text from the clinic: Ms. Nora, you are currently seven weeks pregnant. Please remember to schedule your routine prenatal examination. The next morning, Penn never showed up at the court. I waited until noon before he finally replied to my message. I’m out shopping with Serena. Busy. If you really want a divorce, have your lawyer file the papers. I didn’t bother replying. Instead, I went back to the hospital. Hazel lay on the bed, her fingers barely able to twitch. She was only five years older than me, but the aggressive treatments had left her completely bald and terribly frail. Seeing me enter, she forced a weak, trembling smile. “Nora… let’s stop the treatment.” My eyes burned with unshed tears. “Don’t say that, Hazel.” Our parents had passed away early, and Hazel had raised me on her own. She had been nothing but a child herself, yet she worked multiple jobs to pay for my tuition, shielding me from every storm. The doctor pulled me out into the hallway, his expression grave. “The situation is deteriorating rapidly. We can’t delay any longer. You must secure the remaining treatment fees as soon as possible.” I nodded numbly. I went straight to a pawn shop and sold my wedding ring. The clerk examined the diamond and offered an insultingly low price, but I didn’t care. I needed the cash. Right after receiving the money, I opened social media and saw Serena’s latest post. In the photo, she stood in front of a high-end department store mirror, holding several luxury shopping bags, a sweet, victorious smile plastered on her face. The caption read: Penn said I am the face of his company, so he insisted on buying me these. I stared at the screen for a long time until it went dark. That afternoon, Serena showed up at the hospital room, her smile triumphant. “Nora, Penn sent me to check if there is still any point in continuing your sister’s treatment.” “After all, money should only be spent on those who are worth it. I need to re-evaluate this expense.” Before I could open my mouth, Penn walked down the corridor. He stopped beside Serena, his expression flat. “Serena is only doing her job.” “If you have a problem, you can bring it up directly with me.” I looked him dead in the eye. “She doesn’t need approval to buy luxury bags, but my sister needs your approval to stay alive?” “What I spend on her is my own business,” Penn replied coldly. “What you are asking for is an expenditure under my wife’s name. They are entirely different things.” He slid a thick stack of forms toward me. “If you want the money, fill out the application. Once Serena reviews and approves it, I will authorize the transfer.” I didn’t reach for the paper. His eyes drifted to my stomach, his voice growing even colder. “You’re still pregnant. Stop using the child to throw these dramatic tantrums.” With that, he turned to leave with Serena. But the very next second, the doctor rushed into the room. “Emergency! Your sister’s vitals are crashing. We need to operate immediately!” I waited outside the operating room for three agonizing hours before the surgeon finally emerged with the news that Hazel’s condition had temporarily stabilized. But his face remained tense. “We’ve managed to keep her stable, but her medication cannot be interrupted. Her body cannot survive another shock.” I nodded, my throat aching with a dry, burning thirst. After using the last of my pawned-ring cash to pay for her immediate prescriptions, I walked down to the hospital cafeteria to buy her some broth. And there, sitting by the window, were Penn and Serena. They were sharing a beautifully arranged plate of desserts. Serena saw me first. She immediately rose and walked over, her expression soft and apologetic. “Nora, you’re here too.” “Penn said I worked incredibly hard putting the project files together this week, so he took me out for a quick lunch.” “It’s purely professional, please don’t misunderstand.” I ignored her and looked directly at Penn. “I guess not every single dollar spent requires a formal application process.” Penn’s brow furrowed. “Nora, drop the attitude.” “Serena did an outstanding job this week. As her boss, taking her out for a meal is perfectly normal. Is there a problem?” “No problem,” I said quietly. “After all, she keeps me under your heel so perfectly. She deserves a reward.” His expression darkened, but I didn’t wait around for his response. I turned and walked away. When I returned to the room, Hazel was fast asleep. I sat by her side, my heart breaking as I stared at her hollow cheeks. That evening, as I kept watch by her bed, the sky outside suddenly lit up. A magnificent display of golden fireworks erupted over the city, painting the night sky in brilliant, shimmering hues. Several nurses and patients gathered by the window to watch. “Who spent that kind of money?” “I heard it’s the Sinclair Group. The CEO is putting on a show to reward his secretary.” “How romantic. Imagine having a boss who treats you like that.” I stood by the glass, my fingers turning cold. While they celebrated their sweet, public romance, my sister lay on a sterile bed, fighting for every breath with the help of a machine. I unlocked my phone. Serena’s social media feed had just updated. The photo showed her wearing a dazzling diamond necklace, the glittering stones catching the light of the fireworks. The caption read: Thank you, Penn, for this beautiful necklace. Tonight, the sky burned just for me! I stared at the necklace. It was a design I had admired for months. Last month, when I had lingered in front of the display case at the boutique, Penn had merely glanced at it and said, “A purchase like that requires too much administrative approval. It’s not worth the hassle.” It wasn’t that it wasn’t worth the hassle. It was only a hassle when it was for me. I stared at the post for a long time, then tapped the “like” button. Within a minute, my phone rang. It was Penn. “Now that you’ve liked the post, don’t you dare retract it,” he said without preamble. “People will start rumors about Serena if you do.” “Leave a comment underneath. Praise her for her hard work. Let’s make it look like a joint gesture of appreciation from both of us as a couple.” I quieted my mind, tapped open the comment box, and typed: You’ve worked so hard, Secretary Song. You’re even wearing the things the President’s wife has no right to touch. I locked the phone. A few minutes later, the screen lit up again. I walked out into the quiet corridor to answer it. Serena’s sobbing voice immediately filled the receiver. “Nora, I really didn’t know you liked that necklace too…” “I only accepted it because it was a gift from Penn. If you comment like that, what will everyone think of me?” Then, Penn’s voice broke in, cold and furious. “Nora, do you have any idea how many people in the office are already whispering about her? How is she supposed to face anyone after what you wrote?” “It just proves that not everyone in your office is a fool,” I replied. His breath caught. “When did you become so bitter and toxic? Serena worked incredibly hard to get to where she is. You don’t work, you live entirely on my dime, and yet you feel entitled to humiliate a woman who actually puts in honest labor?” Before I could reply, a shrill, piercing alarm echoed from Hazel’s room. The heart monitor. Panic seized me. I dropped the phone and bolted back into the room. A team of doctors was already crowding around her bed. Hazel’s face was white, her oxygen tube lying discarded on the floor. The doctor looked up at me, his face grim. “She pulled the tube out herself. We’re doing everything we can!” My knees buckled. I threw myself against the side of the bed, sobbing hysterically. “Hazel, please! Why would you do this?” Hazel struggled to open her eyes, her voice barely a whisper. “Nora… don’t cry. Don’t fight for me anymore. It hurts too much.” “I heard… I heard you on the phone with Penn.” “Don’t spend any more money on me. I won’t let you ruin your life for a dying woman.” I shook my head violently, tears blinding me. “I won’t let you go! Don’t worry about the money, I will save you!” With shaking fingers, I redialed Penn’s number. The line connected, but it was Serena’s voice that answered, laced with a quiet, venomous chuckle. “Asking for money again?” she whispered. “Nora, did you really think you could humiliate me on social media and then beg for a favor? If you want the funds, come to my office right now. Get down on your knees, beg for my forgiveness, and maybe, just maybe, I’ll think about signing off.” Then, Penn’s cold voice echoed in the background. “Serena is right, Nora. This is the respect you owe her.”

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Audrey and I were known in the legal community as the ultimate courtroom rivals. The internet had tried for years to get us to face off in court. But as top-tier lawyers, we weren’t about to sabotage our own firm’s reputation. Six years of public pleading, six years of disappointment. Everyone said we were a match made in heaven. Same academic pedigree, same undefeated record, even our calculating, step-by-step courtroom style was identical. Until today. I was organizing case files in the mediation room when she walked in with the defendant. In that moment, I realized my fiancée had taken a case against my client. She sat across from me with a faint, almost imperceptible air of arrogance. “Graham, give up. You can’t win this. There’s no need to ruin the reputation you’ve spent years building over a single case.” I looked up at her, slowly putting down my pen. “Who says I’m going to lose?” The defendant sitting next to her, a young man, suddenly reached out and gently tugged her sleeve. I stared at the watch on his wrist, my pupils contracting. Audrey, who had just returned from an international trip last night, had gifted me a pair of cufflinks. They were a complimentary gift that came with that exact luxury watch. 1 During the hearing, I found myself losing focus. Audrey was presenting her evidence, her expression grave and professional. Liam sat beside her, idly playing with his watch strap as if he were bored. A burning sensation spread through my chest. I felt a sudden urge to rip off the cufflinks I was wearing. Audrey stood up, placing a document on the table in front of me. “The defense requests a preliminary clarification on the nature of the debt dispute. The plaintiff deliberately concealed her financial liabilities, which constitutes fraud.” Her voice was steady, smoothly transitioning from the mutual intent of the loan to the chain of evidence, from legal precedents to the burden of proof. But none of the evidence she was presenting had been included in our pre-trial discovery exchange. “Objection,” I said, rising to my feet. My voice sounded heavier than I intended. “Opposing counsel failed to exchange this set of evidence prior to the trial as required by civil procedure rules.” Audrey cast a brief glance at me, turning to the judge with absolute composure. “Your Honor, this evidence was only obtained by my team late last night. We had no time to exchange it, and we respectfully request the court’s discretion to admit it.” The judge admitted the evidence. Left with no choice, I requested a recess under the guise of reviewing the new material. As I walked out of the courtroom, Audrey caught up with me. “I told you before, you can’t win this,” she said, stopping a few paces away. Her tone was entirely confident. “A trial isn’t a law school exam. You don’t win just by memorizing the rules.” As the underlying meaning of her words settled in, I couldn’t help but let out a dry laugh. “So, you win by being deeply familiar with your client’s personal life instead?” Audrey’s face darkened instantly. Just then, Liam sauntered over. The moment Audrey saw him, the coldness in her eyes softened. Liam stopped in front of me, his posture carrying a subtle, defensive stubbornness. “Mr. Barrett, Paige is a fraud. She lied about her finances before we married and forced me to bail her out. Are you really going to defend a woman like that?” “As a lawyer, shouldn’t you be fighting for justice? We’re just trying to protect ourselves from being financially exploited. Paige might have paid you an exorbitant fee, but are you really going to watch my life get ruined just for the money?” His voice was soft, making him sound like the victim, yet every word was designed to paint me in the worst light possible. The reporters who had been waiting outside immediately swarmed us, thrusting microphones into my face. “Mr. Barrett, is what Mr. Liam says true? Did your client pay you a fee far above the industry standard? Did you solicit that amount?” 2 “Mr. Barrett, both you and Ms. Pierce have maintained undefeated records since the start of your careers. However, your case volume is significantly lower than hers. Facing off against her directly today, are you under immense pressure?” “We heard you struggled during the opening statements. Is it because you’re taking it easy on your fiancée?” I forced myself to remain calm. In the next second, Audrey stepped in front of me, shielding me from the cameras. “Apologies, but we will not be answering any questions while this case is active. Please excuse us.” She grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward the parking garage. To keep the reporters from following, she pushed me into the passenger seat of her car. It was only then that I noticed Liam was already sitting in the front passenger seat. He turned around to look at me, a perfectly calculated look of apology on his face. “Mr. Barrett, there were so many reporters out there that I panicked and jumped in first. I usually sit in the front, I hope you don’t mind?” Before I could speak, Audrey reached over and playfully tapped the back of his head. “Just sit still and behave yourself,” she said softly. He smiled and turned back around, though our eyes occasionally met in the rearview mirror. For the entire drive, the car was filled with Liam’s voice. He pointed out expensive sports cars on the road, excitedly urging Audrey to look. When we passed an exclusive, members-only restaurant, he eagerly listed his favorite dishes from their menu. I had always believed Audrey disliked talkative men. Yet sitting in the back seat, I could clearly see the faint smile on her lips and hear her occasional, quiet laughter. I unlocked my phone and opened our chat history. Our last message was from a week ago. She had texted me saying she was flying out of the country for a business trip. I scrolled up further. The pictures of stray cats I had shared, the sudden rainstorm, the new coffee shop downstairs, she hadn’t replied to any of them, not even with a single punctuation mark. I closed my eyes, feeling incredibly weary. She dropped me off at my building, standing by the door to tell me to get some rest. “Since we’re on opposing sides of this trial, it’s not appropriate for us to live together. I won’t be coming back here for the next few days.” As she turned to leave, I reached out and caught her sleeve, finally asking the question that had been burning in my chest. “You and him… when did it start?” 3 “What?” “You and Liam.” She froze, then let out a soft, dismissive scoff. “Are you seriously throwing wild accusations at me just because you’re losing the case?” When I didn’t respond, she reached out to touch my arm, her face tightening with impatience. “Stop overthinking. There’s nothing going on. He’s just a client.” Before she could finish, her phone buzzed. The name on the screen read: Liam. Her brow furrowed slightly. She instinctively turned her body away from me and answered. Liam’s soft, strained voice came through the speaker. “Audrey, my stomach is acting up again…” Audrey’s fingers tightened around her phone. “Hold on. I’m on my way.” She hung up and turned around immediately, her heels clicking rapidly against the floor as she rushed toward the elevator. She didn’t offer a single word of explanation. This was the man she called a mere client. I closed the door, looked around the empty apartment, and began to pack up, forcing the chaotic thoughts out of my mind. The next morning, I arrived at the firm as usual. The moment I walked into my office, the head of finance was already waiting for me. “Mr. Barrett, the petty cash Ms. Pierce withdrew last month still hasn’t been accounted for. We need to close the books by the end of the week, but I can’t reach her. I was hoping you could…” “How much did she withdraw?” “One hundred thousand dollars.” My gaze darkened. What did she need that much cash for? After dismissing the accountant, I immediately contacted a close friend of mine in banking to pull Audrey’s personal financial records. On the seventeenth of last month, she had transferred one hundred thousand dollars into a personal account belonging to a woman named Martha Jenkins. Before I could even dial Audrey’s number, my assistant knocked on the door, looking frantic. “Boss, we have a problem. A video of you and Ms. Pierce outside the courthouse yesterday went viral. The public reaction is extremely hostile toward you.” I put down my phone and took the tablet he handed me. And they called this a clash of titans? This is a total embarrassment. We waited six years for this? Graham Barrett actually calls himself a top attorney? No wonder he never dared to face Ms. Pierce in court. His undefeated record was clearly just clever marketing. Even my interns have better composure under pressure. He needs to get out of the legal profession. The comments were flooded with demands for the firm to fire me, and our official social media accounts were being hammered with abuse. Suddenly, the office door was pushed open. “Graham, you need to drop Paige’s case,” Audrey said as she walked in. Her eyes fell on the bank statements and transfer receipts spread across my desk, and her face instantly darkened. “Why do you have my financial records?” I leaned back in my chair, my voice entirely calm. “The accounting department couldn’t find you to balance the books, so they brought them to me.” Her jaw tightened. “Don’t you think you owe me an explanation for this money?” I stared at her, and she instinctively avoided my gaze. “I can’t explain it to you right now. Just cover it for me from the firm’s account. It’s a personal matter, it has nothing to do with the case.” “Nothing to do with the case? Then what is it about? And who is Martha Jenkins?” Audrey’s brow furrowed deeply, and she glared at me. “Are you investigating me?” She snatched the approval form off my desk, crumpling the paper in her tight grip. “Deduct the hundred thousand from my year-end dividends. And as for Paige’s case, I’m telling you to drop it. You’ve been handling the administrative side of the firm for years and barely litigate anymore. Don’t push yourself.” I looked down at the empty desk. I remembered our college days, when we were always neck-and-neck at the top of our class, constantly competing, refusing to back down. It was through those fierce academic battles that we had grown to admire each other. When she confessed her feelings to me, I had accepted without a second thought. After graduation, we started this firm together. To allow her to focus entirely on the courtroom, I took over the management, operations, and administrative side of things. She was the face of the firm, while I secured the foundation. It had been a perfect partnership. But as her win rate climbed and her reputation grew, she began to believe the firm’s success was entirely due to her efforts, completely dismissing my contributions behind the scenes. We had argued and gone through cold wars over this. To prove myself, and to reclaim my own voice, I had agreed to represent Paige. I never expected that we would end up standing on opposing sides of the courtroom. I had wanted to have a real talk with her, but now, it seemed entirely pointless. 4 After Audrey left, I poured all my energy into the case. Taking the evidence she had presented in court, I went to meet with Paige. When Paige saw the documents detailing millions of dollars in debt, she froze. “This isn’t mine…” I pointed to the signature on the copies. “Then why is your signature here? You need to understand that if you keep hiding things, we will lose this trial. You won’t just lose everything, you’ll be saddled with a crushing debt.” Paige, who was only twenty-six, panicked. “Were these debts accumulated before your marriage?” I pressed. “Yes… but it was all for Liam,” she whimpered. “He told me his father was a heavy gambler and his mother was bedridden with a terminal illness. When we were dating, his father came to our door demanding money multiple times. I felt so sorry for him that I…” I listened to her explanation, a strange feeling of unease settling in. “Do you have any proof of this?” “I can check the security camera footage at our old apartment…” While Paige went to retrieve the footage, I didn’t sit idle. I had someone pull Liam’s bank statements. His personal accounts were pristine, with no large transfers over the past five years. So, I asked my contact to look into his immediate family members. Half an hour later, I received a detailed transaction history. Starting two years ago, his mother’s account had received a total of nearly half a million dollars in various transfers. And the most recent transaction made me freeze. It was a wire transfer of one hundred thousand dollars from Audrey’s account. I let out a cold laugh. I remembered my mother’s birthday earlier this year. Audrey had gifted her a cheap glass ornament, completely unwrapped. My family’s expressions had been incredibly awkward, and I had to step in to smooth things over. Later, when we were leaving, I had asked her, “Be honest with me, did you forget my mother’s birthday?” Instead of apologizing, she had flared up in anger. “What is that supposed to mean? Are you complaining about my gift?” “You know very well that the firm’s profits only exist because I’m constantly taking cases, yet we split the money fifty-fifty.” “If I recall correctly, you bought your parents a house and a car. Even if you paid for it, a portion of that money belongs to me, doesn’t it?” “Without me securing our reputation out there, you wouldn’t even have that money.” Looking at Audrey as she meticulously kept score of our finances, I had felt a profound sense of exhaustion. She was the one who had claimed she hated administrative work, which was why I had forced myself to step back from litigation to handle operations. I had shouldered every tedious detail so she could shine. I was the one who prepared the outlines, the strategy, and the evidence folders for every single one of her cases. For five years, Liam’s case was the only one she had handled completely on her own, without my assistance. Yet, in her mind, I was merely riding her coattails. The ringing of my phone broke my train of thought. It was Audrey. “Graham, where are you?” I gave her the name of the restaurant I was at. “Stay there. I’m coming to get you. Don’t go anywhere alone.” In less than twenty minutes, her car pulled up to the curb, and she hurried inside. The moment her eyes found me, she let out a visible sigh of relief. She walked over, her heels clicking against the tile. “Don’t go out for the next few days. I saw online that some people are threatening to teach you a lesson. I’ve already had another lawyer take over Paige’s case. Just stay home until the heat dies down.” The panic in her eyes was genuine. And I knew exactly why she was so terrified. Years ago, during a dispute involving a factory layoff, a disgruntled worker had threatened me. He had tried to throw acid at my face, but Audrey had thrown herself in front of me. I had escaped unharmed, but her left arm had been severely burned, leaving a large, permanent scar. Back then, seeing the raw terror and love in her eyes had deeply moved me, filling my chest with an overwhelming warmth. Now, faced with a similar situation, I felt absolutely nothing. My heart was entirely quiet. 5 I gently brushed her hand away, my voice polite but distant. “Thank you for the concern, Ms. Pierce. But as you said, we are opposing counsel on this case. It’s not appropriate for us to meet. I won’t be dropping Paige’s case, and if anyone tries to threaten me, I will handle it myself.” Audrey stared at me, stunned. “What are you trying to prove?” I stood up slowly, looking her in the eyes. “Nothing. I just want to see this through to the end.” She grabbed my arm, her frustration finally boiling over. “Do you think I don’t know what you’re doing? You’re just trying to prove you can still litigate. You want to beat me to satisfy your own ego. You know you can’t win, so why push it?” I pulled my arm back. “Think what you want, but let me remind you: we are adversaries in court. Please keep your personal emotions out of this case.” A cold, bitter laugh escaped her lips. “Fine. If you’re so intent on ruining your own career, I won’t stop you. Just don’t regret it when you lose!” She slammed the door as she left. I paid the bill and walked out without a word. What I didn’t expect was for Liam to show up at my firm. In the coffee shop downstairs, he sat dressed in a perfectly tailored white shirt, his hair styled flawlessly. “Mr. Barrett, I know you’re keeping a tight grip on this case because you suspect something is going on between Audrey and me. But our relationship is strictly professional. Audrey has never done anything to betray you.” “You shouldn’t try to ruin my life just because of your own insecurities. Please, Mr. Barrett, show some mercy. Let me have my life back…” He stopped, his throat bobbing as if holding back a wave of deep emotion. What I didn’t realize was that he had hidden a camera in the nearby potted plant. That very night, an edited version of our conversation was uploaded online. The public outrage intensified. I was painted as a powerful, arrogant attorney using my position to bully a vulnerable young man. By four in the morning, my phone was ringing incessantly with abusive calls. “Graham Barrett, have you no shame? You couldn’t keep your own fiancée, so you’re taking it out on an innocent kid? And you call yourself a lawyer? You’re a pathetic excuse of a man.” I calmly started a recording on my laptop, set the phone aside, and let it play. This was the twelfth call tonight, and some of them were far viler. I spent the rest of the night organizing the evidence for Paige’s case to the sound of strangers hurling insults at me. By the time the sun came up, my phone had completely run out of battery. Checking the clock, I realized the trial was less than four hours away. I brewed myself a strong cup of black coffee and left to pick up Paige. The crowd outside the courthouse was several times larger than before. I slipped through the back entrance, guiding Paige quickly inside. By chance, we crossed paths with Audrey and Liam, who were entering through the main doors. Audrey paused, offering a cold smirk. “You really are insane. Are you truly willing to throw away your entire career for this?” I didn’t answer. I walked past her, heading straight for the courtroom. Before the session began, the live-stream room was already flooded with hundreds of thousands of viewers. The comment section was moving at a dizzying speed, everyone waiting to watch me fail. The judge took the bench and called the court to order. Audrey was the first to present. Her logic was seamless, her presentation flawless. Every piece of evidence she presented pointed to Paige concealing her pre-marital debts, painting her as a fraudulent spouse. When it was my turn, I presented Paige’s bank records. “First, my client did not conceal any financial liabilities. Every single debt she incurred was done under the direct manipulation of the defendant, Liam.” I handed the files to the bailiff to present to the judge. The live chat erupted. Is this guy out of his mind? This is a court of law, not a creative writing class. Is he seriously trying to claim these debts were gifts? Does he think we’re all idiots? He knows he’s going to lose, so he’s resorted to slander. How pathetic. Once the judge had reviewed the documents, I spoke again. “Furthermore, my team has acquired evidence proving that the defendant committed adultery during the marriage. And his partner was none other than his defense counsel: Audrey Pierce.”

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Returning home tonight, I realized the peephole on my front door was gone. In its place was a hollow, empty socket. My heart plummeted. Because tucked inside that very peephole, I had hidden half of a severed finger. 1 I cast a casual glance down the empty hallway, keeping my movements deliberate and calm. I pulled out my phone and tapped open the security app. The feed showed that exactly three minutes ago, a masked, shadowy figure had bypassed my lock. His technique was old-school. First, he twisted the peephole casing loose from the outside. Then, he slid a long, bent wire through the vacant hole. Navigating by touch, he hooked the interior doorknob, gave it a sharp tug, and the latch clicked open. As for the severed finger I had wedged inside the mechanism, the wire had punched it straight into the apartment. The intruder had slipped inside, shutting the door quietly behind him. He took two steps before stumbling, his boot catching on something small and soft on the hardwood floor. He knelt, picked it up, and stared at the half-finger in his palm. The feed showed him freezing, entirely paralyzed. Realizing he had stumbled into a predator’s den, the intruder panicked, turning back toward the door to make a run for it. But that was the exact moment I arrived. Right now, only a thin sheet of wood separated us. 2 “Why aren’t we going in, babe?” Grace asked softly beside me. “Just looking for my keys in my bag,” I replied smoothly. Grace had no idea the peephole was missing. She couldn’t see it. She was blind. I kept quiet about it because the last thing I wanted was to worry her. While I pretended to fumble with my keys, I kept my eyes glued to the phone screen. The intruder was in a frenzy, scrambling into the kitchen and squeezing himself into the narrow cabinet beneath the stove. I unlocked the door, guided Grace inside, and locked it behind us, making sure to turn the deadbolt twice. After helping her to the sofa, she mentioned she was thirsty. I offered to get her a glass of water and walked into the kitchen. My eyes immediately darted to the cabinet beneath the counter. The door was slightly ajar. A cold smile touched my mind. This made things much easier. Without making a sound, I closed the kitchen window, shut the door to the hallway, and cut the electricity to the kitchen. Then, I quietly turned the valve on the gas stove. It was a risky move, but it was the quietest way to put a rat to sleep. 3 I stepped back into the living room, sealing the kitchen door behind me. I handed Grace her glass of warm water, then immediately slid open the balcony window to let the fresh air circulate. Outside, a gentle drizzle had started to fall, carrying the crisp, earthy scent of rain on damp ground. “Is it raining?” Grace’s voice drifted over, vibrating with a childlike excitement. “I want to listen to it.” By the time I turned around, she was already navigating her way toward the balcony, her hands lightly sweeping the air. I stepped up and gently caught her arm. At the open window, she reached out, letting her bare forearm catch the cool, falling mist. The icy drops beaded on her skin. She curled her fingers, a soft, ethereal smile warming her face. “It feels so soft,” she whispered. “Yeah, but let’s get you sat down before you catch a cold,” I said, pulling her back gently. A flicker of disappointment crossed her face, but she complied, settling onto the wooden chair on the balcony. I draped a plush blanket over her shoulders, tucking the edges around her neck. My hand drifted into my pocket, tapping the phone screen. The intruder hadn’t moved. Thirty minutes had passed since I opened the gas valve. 4 Judging by the time, the air in the kitchen should be toxic enough. I spoke softly to Grace. “Stay here. I’m going to wash some fruit for you. I bought some sweet apples today.” Suddenly, her cool hand slipped around my forearm, holding me back. “No rush. Just sit with me for a bit. Listen to the rain. Doesn’t it sound just like the old days?” I glanced toward the kitchen door, then sat down beside her. She rested her head on my shoulder, falling silent. Occasionally, her fingers flicked against her lap, tapping out a slow rhythm to the falling rain. I looked down at her. Her unseeing eyes seemed to hold a soft, liquid light, gentler than the rain outside. Another half hour slipped away as the drizzle tapered off. She finally sat up, her fingers grazing my knee. “Go get that apple now. Be careful, though. Don’t cut your finger like last time.” I patted her shoulder, stood up, and picked up the paring knife from the dining table. Taking a deep breath, I slipped into the kitchen. I shut off the gas valve and threw the window wide open. After waiting two minutes for the fumes to clear, I yanked open the cabinet door. The intruder was curled into a tight ball, his head slumped lifelessly against his knees. He was deeply unconscious, the bent lockpicking wire still clutched in his limp hand. The severed finger lay on the wooden floor right beside him. To be absolutely sure, I wrapped the wire tightly around his neck and pulled. Three minutes later, his chest stopped moving entirely. Time to clean up. I washed my hands thoroughly at the sink, grabbed an apple from the basket, peeled it, and brought the clean slices to Grace. “I have to head out for a bit to handle a work emergency,” I told her. “Go to bed when you’re tired. Don’t wait up for me.” She nodded, her voice tender. “Okay. Drive safe, and come back quickly.” I went back to the kitchen, stuffed the limp body into a large duffel bag, and secured the lock. I put the peephole back on the front door, slipping the severed finger back into its secret chamber. After helping Grace with her nightly routine and making sure she was tucked in and asleep, I quietly wheeled my heavy cargo out the door. 5 As an emergency utility technician, middle-of-the-night calls were standard for me. Grace was used to it, so she never questioned my odd hours. Closing the apartment door, I dragged the heavy suitcase toward the stairwell. I always took the stairs. No cameras, no digital footprint, just concrete and shadow. I made my way down to the sub-basement, dodging the sparse security cameras until I reached a dusty utility corridor. Nestled in a dark corner was a sewer maintenance hatch. For me, it was the perfect grave. I pried the heavy iron cover open and pushed the body in. I poured in the concentrated sulfuric acid I had prepared beforehand. When the chemical fizzing subsided, I hauled my empty suitcase back up. It was nearly eleven o’clock when I finally unlocked my front door. 6 The moment I stepped inside, I froze. Grace was standing near the bathroom, her posture unusually rigid. “Why are you still up?” I asked, keeping my voice gentle. “I just got back.” At the sound of my voice, her tense shoulders dropped slightly. “I was asleep, but I woke up to a dripping sound from the bathroom. I wanted to see what it was.” “A dripping sound?” My chest tightened. I followed her gaze into the bathroom. Dark red droplets were seeping through the seams of the ceiling panels, landing on the white tile with a rhythmic splash. It looked exactly like blood. I immediately led Grace back to the living room and sat her on the sofa. “The pipes upstairs must be backed up. I’ll head up and check on things.” “It’s so late. Can’t it wait until tomorrow?” “It’s fine. I know the guy upstairs. I’ll be right back.” I slipped out, taking the stairs to the apartment directly above ours. The hallway was empty. I quickly unscrewed the peephole on the door, slid a bent wire through, and pulled the handle from the inside. The door clicked open. A suffocating smell of copper and rot hit me instantly. I closed the door and went straight to the bathroom. The floor was flooded with dark, stagnant water. The drain was completely clogged. Without hesitation, I plunged my hand down into the pipe. After feeling around the tight curve, I hauled out a thick, tangled mass of hair. The water immediately began to drain with a loud gurgle. But as I looked at what I was holding, my heart stopped. Tangled in the wet hair was a small, razor-sharp pocketknife and a delicate silver bracelet. The knife’s blade had punctured the PVC pipe, causing the leak. The knife and the bracelet looked terribly familiar. 7 When I returned to our floor thirty minutes later, I unlocked the door to find Grace standing near the entrance, gripping the frame. She took two steps back at the sound of the door opening. “It’s me. I’m back,” I said. She let out a soft breath. “What was going on upstairs?” “Just a clogged drain. I took care of it.” “So fast?” “Well, that’s my job, remember?” I shut the door, stepping inside to take her hand. It was ice-cold. I squeezed her fingers and diverted her attention. “The pipe has a small crack, though. I’ll need to replace the elbow joint tomorrow to stop the dripping entirely.” She nodded. Then, her fingers twitched in mine. “By the way, did you see anyone in the hallway when you came down?” My muscles tensed, but my voice remained perfectly level. “No. Why do you ask?” “Someone knocked on the door while you were gone. At first, I thought you forgot your keys.” “Did you open it?” “No, of course not. The knock was off-beat. I knew right away it wasn’t you.” “Probably just a neighbor at the wrong door.” My eyes swept over the entryway. Resting against the wall just inside the threshold was a fresh corpse. I had brought him in when I opened the door. When I came down from the upstairs apartment, I had spotted a man pressed against our door, looking through the empty peephole. I didn’t make a sound. I crept up behind him, neutralized him, and slipped him inside. To keep Grace from panicking, I kept my voice light and steady while quietly dragging the heavy body into the shadows of the closet. I still had work to do tonight. 8 I guided her to the bed and tucked the blanket around her. “You should get some sleep. I have to go out again.” Her fingers lightly traced the edge of the blanket. “Going out again? Is it really that busy tonight?” “Yeah, probably because of the rain. Pipes are bursting all over town.” I kept my voice casual, turning off the main light and leaving only the dim bedside lamp. “Alright. Be careful. Come back soon.” Her voice softened in the dim room. I waited until her breathing became slow and rhythmic before slipping back to the entryway. The heavy body of the dead intruder was waiting for me. I forced him into a large suitcase. This guy was much broader than the last one, and the zipper snagged halfway. I had to press down hard on his shoulder before the mechanism finally clicked shut. As I locked the door behind me, I took a quick glance through the peephole. The severed finger was back in place, sitting like a quiet, hidden nail. The motion-activated lights in the stairwell flickered weakly. My suitcase rattled against the concrete steps as I hauled it down. At the fourth floor, I stopped. I spun around, looking up into the darkness. The stairwell was deathly silent. But a primal instinct told me that somewhere in the shadow of the landing above, a figure was pressed flat against the wall, quietly tracking my descent. 9 I didn’t call out. Instead, a silent smile crept onto my face as I kept walking. The weight of the suitcase made my wrists ache, each step feeling like a silent tug-of-war with the shadow behind me. Down in the sub-basement, I opened the sewer hatch. The pungent stench of dissolving flesh rose to meet me. I glanced back toward the exit, keeping my movements deliberate. I tipped the heavy bag into the dark void and poured the acid. The dark liquid hissed and bubbled as it dissolved the skin and bone. I watched the thick white steam rise until the sound faded completely, then slid the heavy cover back into place. Heading back up, I intentionally slowed my pace, pausing on each landing. Sure enough, by the time I reached the sixth floor, I heard the faint, hurried rustle of bare feet rushing up the stairs ahead of me. The stalker was trying desperately to get back before I did. I hid in the shadow of the sixth-floor landing and watched as a slender silhouette darted past the stairwell window. The hem of a white nightgown fluttered in the dark, disappearing up toward the eighth floor. When I reached our door, I didn’t open it immediately. I pressed my ear to the wood, listening to the ticking of the living room clock. Only then did I slide my key into the lock, turning it as silently as possible. The apartment was dark except for a sliver of light coming from the bedroom. I crept to the door and peered through the crack. Grace was curled under the covers, her back to me, her long dark hair spread across the pillow. She looked deeply asleep. But I knew better. Her skin would still be cool from the concrete stairs. The person who had followed me into the dark was her.

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I lied about my age and ended up in an online relationship with a gorgeous guy six years older than me. I never expected him to be such a walking contradiction. In public, he was cold and aloof, but online, he was completely shameless, whispering the dirtiest things. In his most intense moments, he even told me he wanted to be my puppy, completely at my mercy. Eventually, his clinginess got to be too much for me. The day I broke things off, I blocked him on every single platform. Months later, I was crashing at my best friend’s place when I ran into her older brother. Looking at his detached, utterly cynical face, a strange sense of familiarity hit me. As I stared, my best friend’s voice snapped me out of my daze. “Don’t bother drooling over him. My brother hates girls who throw themselves at him.” “Ever since some girl dumped him online, he’s been in a permanent foul mood. He’d probably kick a puppy if it walked past him.” I froze, a sudden chill running down my spine. I couldn’t help but test the waters. “So… your brother’s name wouldn’t happen to be Atlas, would it?” 1 “Shut up! How on earth did you know that?” My best friend, Cici, gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as she stared at me in absolute shock. If I had held onto a tiny shred of hope before asking, it was officially dead now. Not only had my anonymous online ex turned out to be my best friend’s brother, but we had crossed paths again six months after a brutal breakup. The odds of this happening had to be lower than winning the lottery. Before I could panic, Cici waved her hand dismissively, already rationalizing it. “Actually, never mind. We basically share a brain. I must have mentioned his name to you at some point.” As she kept ramming on, I stood frozen, my mind racing. The realization that I was currently sharing a roof with Atlas made my heart hammer against my ribs. I couldn’t help but recall our encounter an hour ago. When Cici first brought me to her house, Atlas had just descended the stairs. He was wearing a silk robe, the faint outline of veins tracing up his neck. There was an effortless, aristocratic elegance to him, mixed with a sleepy, dangerous kind of sex appeal. I had stared at him, feeling an inexplicable pull of familiarity. But when Atlas looked at me, he merely offered a cold, polite nod. His dark, aloof eyes swept over me without a single flicker of emotion, treating me as nothing more than his little sister’s random college friend. I never could have connected this incredibly proper, high-society man with the wild, shameless guy I dated online. Online Atlas was a menace. He talked dirty without a shred of hesitation, calling me his baby and his girl every five minutes, his possessiveness practically dripping through the screen. Back then, I was young and completely naive about relationships. He used to fluster me so badly that I’d have to get out of bed in the middle of the night just to splash cold water on my face. I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice casual. “So, has your brother dated many people before?” Cici let out a soft laugh. “Just one, and it was entirely online. Honestly, I think he fell hard. He was head over heels for her, but the girl dumped him out of nowhere. Cut him off completely.” She sighed, shaking her head. “His temper has been absolutely miserable for the last six months.” She patted my shoulder reassuringly. “If he acts like a jerk while you’re staying here, don’t take it personally. He hates everyone equally these days.” 2 The next morning, Cici’s mother called us down for breakfast. Atlas was already sitting across from me at the dining table. He moved with an effortless, aristocratic grace, using his fork and knife with slow, deliberate precision. Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t stop my eyes from drifting toward him. Almost instantly, as if sensing my gaze, Atlas looked up. Our eyes locked, and he arched an eyebrow in mild amusement. My heart did a violent flip. Even after I hurriedly looked down, I could still feel his dark eyes burning into me, refusing to let me go. “Daisy, sweetheart, try the French toast. It’s my specialty,” Cici’s mother, Mrs. Sheng, said warmly, bringing me back to reality. I had always been good at pleasing adults. With a few sweet compliments, I had Mrs. Sheng beaming and laughing in no time. “Just make yourself at home these next few days. Don’t be shy about anything,” she insisted. “Thank you, Mrs. Sheng,” I smiled. I comforted myself with the thought that even if we were staying under the same roof, there was no way Atlas could connect me to his online ex. My anxiety was probably unnecessary. I just needed to act natural. Gradually, the conversation shifted toward Atlas. From what Mrs. Sheng was saying, she had recently set him up with a girl from another prominent family. But Atlas’s responses remained entirely cold and detached. “Mom, I told you I’m not interested,” he said, his voice smooth but firm. “I’ve only met her twice. I barely even remember what she looks like. What do you expect me to say?” Mrs. Sheng rolled her eyes, putting her fork down with a heavy sigh. “You reject every single girl I introduce to you. I don’t know when that stubborn head of yours is going to wake up. You’re in your mid-twenties, you don’t date, and honestly, sometimes I wonder if there’s something wrong with you.” Cici let out a sudden snort next to me, her shoulders shaking as she tried to suppress her laughter. “Mom, I can guarantee there is absolutely nothing wrong with his preferences,” Cici chimed in, raising three fingers in a mock solemn vow. “He’s just had a rocky road in love. The girl he’s waiting for is just a bit of a flighty wild card, that’s all.” Mrs. Sheng shot her a warning glare. I, on the other hand, wanted nothing more than to bury my face in my plate. I kept completely silent, praying they wouldn’t drag me into it. But of course, fate had other plans. “Daisy.” Atlas’s cool, deep voice sliced through the chatter. I jumped, nearly dropping my fork. It was just a simple pronunciation of my name, but the vibration of his voice sent an involuntary shiver straight down my spine. Before I could process why I was reacting this way, his dark eyes fixed on me, filled with an unreadable, probing intensity. “Why do you look so guilty?” he asked softly. “Did you do something you shouldn’t have?” My brain stalled. My cheeks went pale, and I had absolutely no idea how to respond. Fortunately, Mrs. Sheng stepped in to rescue me. “Don’t be rude, Atlas. Daisy is our guest. Don’t intimidate her.” Cici laughed, completely oblivious to the tension. “Wow, look at that. I only mentioned Daisy’s name once, and you already remembered it.” Amidst the teasing, I kept my head down, missing the way Atlas’s eyes narrowed slightly as he watched me. 3 Cici ended up catching a mild fever after breakfast, so she took some medicine and went upstairs to sleep. I spent the morning doing some practice exams. When I went downstairs to grab a glass of water, I saw Mrs. Sheng putting on her coat, preparing to head out. Out of politeness, I asked where she was going. “It’s that boy of mine,” Mrs. Sheng said, offering a helpless smile. “Atlas left for the office in such a hurry that he forgot his quarterly reports. I need to drop them off at his office. I don’t know what’s gotten into him today. He’s usually never this careless.” My hands moved faster than my brain. Almost instinctively, I grabbed her arm before she could open the door. “Why don’t I go instead, Mrs. Sheng? You should stay and rest.” “Oh, I couldn’t possibly ask you to do that,” she replied, startled. I smiled and shook my head. “It’s really no trouble. Honestly, I’m just looking for an excuse to get some fresh air.” If I had one strong suit, it was knowing how to be a helpful guest. Since my family lived in a different city, Mrs. Sheng had been incredibly generous in letting me stay here. I felt guilty just lounging around without contributing. Unable to argue with my persistence, Mrs. Sheng eventually yielded and sent the office address to my phone. Settling into the back of a cab, I couldn’t resist searching Atlas’s name online. The public profile of him was remarkably consistent: ruthless in business, decisive, and entirely unyielding. It was almost impossible to associate a man like that with online dating. When we first met, I was a senior in high school, dealing with my parents’ sudden divorce. Life was overwhelming, and I turned to online gaming to escape the stress. That was where I met him. I figured an online relationship was harmless. It gave me a quick dose of dopamine to keep me going. But for safety, I lied about my age, claiming I had just graduated from college, and I never used my real name. Unlike most online couples, I never sent photos. Whenever he tried to video call, I declined. The only thing I agreed to was a strict thirty-minute voice call every night. Despite my rigid rules, Atlas spoiled me completely. He constantly tried to send me money and shared every detail of his day, no matter how trivial. Whenever I saw the absurdly large transfers he tried to send, I immediately returned them. I was only looking for emotional support. Since I knew we had no future, I wasn’t about to take his money. But over time, Atlas became incredibly attached. One day, he suddenly demanded we meet in person. At that point, my final exams were only two weeks away. Meeting up was out of the question. After thinking it over for a long night, I sent him a cold message: There’s no point in us meeting. I’m getting bored of this. Let’s end it. Right after hitting send, I blocked and deleted him everywhere, leaving absolutely no trace. I had assumed that after so much time, a man of his stature would have forgotten about a brief digital fling. But from the way Cici talked, it seemed he still carried the scar. 4 This was my first time visiting Atlas’s workplace. As the receptionist guided me toward the private elevator to the top floor, she casually mentioned that he owned the entire building. No wonder he used to throw money around so easily back then. The wealth gap between us was staggering. Ding. The elevator doors slid open, and my eyes locked with Atlas’s. Standing against the bright floor-to-ceiling windows, his sharp features looked exceptionally striking. The sheer authority he exuded caught my breath. He seemed to have just wrapped up a meeting. A group of senior executives, all much older than him, followed behind him, yet none of them could match his presence. He was a natural-born leader. The hallway fell quiet. A few executives glanced between us, their eyes filled with quiet curiosity. “Mr. Sheng, who is this?” one of them asked, his tone laced with subtle intrigue. Atlas’s dark eyes rested on me for a fraction of a second. Then, without a word, he stepped forward, subtly shielding me from their prying gazes. “A friend,” he answered smoothly. I blinked, slightly startled. Why friend? Why not his sister’s classmate? “Mr. Sheng, this lady brought the documents you left behind,” the receptionist explained. Atlas gave a brief nod. “Understood. Take her to my office first.” He pressed the elevator button, clearly still occupied with work. I bit my lip, thinking quickly. I decided to hand the folder straight to the receptionist. “Since the documents are delivered, I’ll head out. Don’t let me disrupt your work.” But as I turned to leave, a firm grip caught my wrist. Atlas held my arm, his voice dropping to a low, quiet register. “Did I say you could leave?” My steps halted. Because of the proximity, the scent of him washed over me, a clean, crisp fragrance of pine and cold winter air. I couldn’t move. The place where his fingers brushed against my skin felt warm and tingling, sending a strange shiver through me. He let out a quiet, almost imperceptible sigh. “Go wait in my office. I need to talk to you.” 5 I had no idea what Atlas wanted to discuss. As far as he was concerned, our only connection was his sister. His unusual behavior was starting to make me incredibly nervous. By the time his assistant came in to refresh my coffee for the third time, my anxiety had peaked. Just then, the heavy double doors pushed open. Atlas walked in, the coldness in his eyes softening slightly the moment he saw me sitting on the sofa. He walked straight toward me. “Mr. Sheng,” I said, standing up quickly, feeling incredibly out of place. For some reason, a shadow passed over his dark eyes, though it vanished just as quickly. “Sit,” he said softly. “You don’t work for me. You don’t need to call me that.” His office was massive, but being alone with him made the space feel incredibly small. I cleared my throat, testing the waters. “So… is there something you needed me for?” “Do you have your phone on you?” he asked, ignoring my question with an air of quiet authority. I blinked, nodding slowly. “Let’s exchange contact details. I’ll venmo you for your travel expenses.” My jaw nearly dropped. Was a powerful CEO really handling a simple cab fare reimbursement personally? “No, really, that’s not necessary,” I said, shaking my head. “It was just a quick ride. Besides, I’m staying at your place rent-free anyway.” “Those are two different things,” Atlas countered, his gaze fixed on me. He tapped his fingers slowly against his desk. “I don’t like owing people favors.” I opened my mouth to decline again, but a sudden thought made me freeze. Why was he being so incredibly persistent? Could he actually suspect something? As his sister’s college friend, there was absolutely no logical reason for him to demand my contact details. The only explanation was that he had a suspicion. I forced myself to stay calm. There’s no way, I told myself. I left zero clues. How could he possibly suspect me? As I opened my messaging app to display my QR code, I noticed his fingers tremble slightly. It was as if he were holding his breath, desperately hoping for something. But the moment he scanned it, his expression froze. He stared at his screen for what felt like an eternity, even going so far as to scroll through my public posts. Eventually, the tension drained out of his shoulders, and he let out a slow, deflated breath. I quietly exhaled. The only reason I had agreed to let him scan my code so easily was because I had completely abandoned my old social media account after graduation. My current profile looked entirely different from my old one. There was nothing here that could link me to his ex. Still, seeing that his profile picture was still the matching couple’s icon we had chosen together, a dull ache bloomed in my chest. We had been apart for six months, and he hadn’t even bothered to change it. The silence in the office grew heavy and suffocating. Atlas looked up at me, his voice raw. “Is there really nothing you want to tell me?” “No,” I replied, forcing a polite, empty smile as I stood up. “It’s getting late. I should probably get going.” If I stayed any longer, I was going to crack. “Wait,” his voice called out from behind me, sending a sudden shiver down my spine. He rubbed his temples, looking exhausted. “I’ll have my driver take you back.” 6 The amount Atlas sent me for “cab fare” was enough to cover my transportation for an entire month. I ended up keeping it, realizing that arguing over it would only make things awkward, and a sum like that was pocket change to him anyway. Still, every interaction with him left me incredibly wound up. When I had walked out of his office, the eyes of the entire top floor had been glued to me. I had even overheard a few staff members whispering, speculating about my relationship with their notorious boss. That gossip was a cold splash of reality. He was Atlas Sheng. He was used to being respected, pursued, and admired. A man like him would never tolerate being lied to and played. Since I couldn’t handle the consequences of being exposed, my only option was to keep the secret buried forever. By the time I pulled myself out of my thoughts, the car had already entered the private residential estate. For the next two days, Atlas didn’t return home. Mrs. Sheng mentioned he owned several apartments closer to downtown and rarely stayed at the main estate during the busy season. Not having to face him was a massive relief. With Cici fully recovered from her fever, she was practically climbing the walls with cabin fever. “Daisy, it’s Brody’s birthday today,” she said, leaning against my desk. “A bunch of our old high school friends are getting together tonight. Want to come with?” Brody was a mutual friend of ours from high school who ended up going to the same university as us. We ran in the same social circles. Thinking a night out would help clear my head, I agreed. The sun was just beginning to set when we left the estate. We met up with the group outside a restaurant in a trendy downtown plaza. Brody and the others were already waiting by the entrance, laughing and talking. When Brody spotted me, his eyes visibly brightened. “Daisy! I told you guys you didn’t have to bring gifts.” I smiled, handing him a neatly wrapped box. “Not a chance. You got me such an expensive gift for my birthday. If I didn’t return the gesture, I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night.” I had picked out a classic watch for him. Brody took it, a brief, slightly disappointed expression crossing his face before he quickly masked it. “You really never let me do anything nice for you, do you? Always keeping score.” I offered a polite smile, pretending not to understand the underlying meaning in his words. Suddenly, Cici draped an arm over my shoulder, looking between Brody and me with a mischievous grin. “So, Brody, whose gift do you like more? Mine or Daisy’s?” The group burst into quiet, teasing laughter. Brody’s ears flushed deep crimson, and he kept stealing glances at me. Before he could find his voice, Cici gave a knowing nod. “Right, right, I get it. Our Daisy always knows exactly what you like.” I nudged Cici in the ribs with my elbow, dragging her toward the entrance while keeping my voice down. “You know I don’t feel that way about Brody. Stop teasing like that. What if he takes it seriously?” Seeing how flustered I was, Cici giggled. “Honestly, Brody is cute, and he’s totally devoted to you. Why don’t I like him?” Her question caught me off guard. For a split second, Atlas’s cold, handsome face flashed in my mind, causing me to shake my head violently. “Feelings aren’t a math equation,” I muttered. “If the spark isn’t there, you can’t force it.” Seeing how resistant I was, Cici squeezed my arm. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop playing matchmaker. I promise.”

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1 While packing up our new house, an old tablet of mine suddenly lit up, displaying a local trending video from three years in the future. The headline was impossibly eye-catching: Devoted Billionaire Buys Entire Island to Bring a Smile to His Beloved Wife. I laughed and passed the tablet to Nathan. “Mr. Bennett, you’re going to be trending in three years? Surely this beloved wife is me?” Nathan walked over, pressing a tender kiss against my forehead. “Who else could it be? You stayed by my side when we had absolutely nothing. I would give my life just to hold you in the palm of my hand.” Lost in a haze of happiness, I looked down and tapped the video. A reporter was asking with sheer envy: “Mrs. Bennett, we heard your husband personally committed his ex-wife to a psychiatric hospital just to appease you?” The woman on screen blinked, her eyes pooling with delicate tears. “Yes. Nathan said that was what she owed me.” The smile on my face instantly froze. The woman addressed as Mrs. Bennett was Sherry. She was my former best friend, the one whom I had once sold my own belongings and taken on crippling debt to save when she was in her darkest hour. And yet, barely an hour later, Nathan would stand in this very room, screaming at me, calling me cold-blooded and selfish, and smashing every single one of our wedding photos, all because of Sherry. Outside the door, Sherry’s muffled, calculated sobs drifted in. “Nathan, it’s all my fault. If I hadn’t come back, you two wouldn’t be fighting. Maybe I should just leave. I don’t want to lose her as a friend.” Then came Nathan’s gentle, comforting murmur. “It’s fine. I broke the photos, not you. Don’t be afraid, I’ll talk to her.” The door pushed open. He looked at the glowing tablet in my hands, showing not a single trace of guilt for his recent outburst. He opened his arms, expecting me to step into them. “Still angry? I lost my temper earlier, but you said some incredibly harsh things. Sherry is your best friend, and she’s already crying from guilt. Was it really necessary to humiliate her in front of the house staff?” My body felt like ice. I stiffened, deliberately stepping back from his reach. In that moment, the ruthless, cold billionaire from the future video and the gentle, brow-furrowed husband standing before me merged perfectly. I stared at him, my fingertips trembling slightly. “Nathan, let me ask you a question.” “What is it?” “If I went crazy one day, would you send me away? To an asylum?” Nathan’s brow furrowed deeper, his tone sharpening with reprimand. “What are you throwing a fit about now? We can retake the photos tomorrow. Sherry has nowhere else to go, she is already miserable enough. You used to sacrifice your own comfort to help her, so why is it that now, as Mrs. Bennett, you’ve become so cold and selfish? Can you really not tolerate your own friend?” My breath caught in my throat. There was no hysterical screaming, no shattered glass, just a heavy, suffocating silence. So, in my husband’s eyes, my past sacrifices to save my friend were simply expected of me, while defending the boundaries of my marriage now made me cold and selfish. The future was already unfolding, piece by piece. The next morning, Sherry didn’t leave. She walked into the living room holding a glass of warm milk, her eyes red as she reached for my hand. “We’re best friends, Evelyn. You used to care about me more than anyone. Please don’t let my presence ruin your marriage, okay?” I coldly pulled my hand back, ignoring her completely. By afternoon, as I approached the study with a glass of water, I heard rustling from inside. Pushing the door open, I found Sherry standing by my desk, holding my external hard drive. “What are you doing?” I demanded. “I only wanted to help tidy up. I remembered how you used to love the coffee I brewed when you were writing your drafts.” Before she finished, her hand suddenly trembled. The drive slipped from her fingers, clattering to the floor, and the mug of coffee tipped over, completely drowning the device. My chest tightened, a sharp pain piercing my heart. “Don’t touch that!” I rushed forward, pushing her aside to salvage the drive from the puddle of liquid. Sherry tumbled against the bookshelf, clutching her ankle as tears streamed down her face. “I’m so sorry, I only wanted to make things right. After all our years of friendship, won’t you even give me a chance to explain?” Heavy, rushed footsteps echoed down the hallway. Nathan burst into the room. He didn’t look at me once. He went straight to Sherry, gently lifting her from the floor. When he finally turned to me, his eyes were heavy with disappointment. My voice shook uncontrollably. “Nathan, when she had nothing, I borrowed from everyone I knew to pull her out of the dirt! Is this how she repays me? She destroyed my drive! It has ten years of our lives on it!” Nathan stepped in front of Sherry, shielding her. “Just because you helped her back then doesn’t mean you get to treat her like a criminal now! She was only trying to help you organize.” With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the drive directly into the trash can. “Nathan!” I gasped, standing up. “It’s just some old photos and outdated files,” he said, his voice entirely dismissive. “If it’s ruined, it’s ruined. I’ll make time to take new photos with you tomorrow. The doctor said Sherry has severe depressive tendencies and can’t handle any stress. Stop using a piece of useless junk to torment her just because she owes you a favor from years ago, will you?” I stood frozen in place. I remembered a night years ago, when a blizzard shut down the city and our basement apartment felt like an icebox. My hands were swollen with painful chilblains, but I kept typing away on my keyboard to finish my manuscript. He had come home from handing out flyers, immediately tucking my freezing hands against his chest to warm them, kissing my reddened fingertips. “From now on, every word you write and every photo we take will be saved on this drive. This is our most precious treasure, and nobody can ever take it from us.” “Okay,” I heard my own voice reply, dry and hollow. Nathan blinked, surprised by how easily I surrendered. He let out a sigh of relief, his voice softening into that patronizing warmth. “I’m glad you’re being reasonable. Sherry scares easily, so keep your history in mind and try to be more accommodating.” I didn’t look at him, nor did I look at Sherry. I turned around and walked out of the study, one quiet step at a time. I didn’t make another scene about the drive. I locked myself in my room. Thinking I had finally learned to behave, Nathan knocked gently on the door. “Sleep early, and don’t overthink things. I’m going to check on Sherry’s ankle.” The footsteps faded, followed by the muffled sound of my husband comforting another woman. Leaning against the door, I listened to the soft, gentle murmurs from the guest room. I knew my marriage had just entered the countdown to that viral video. The next afternoon. To completely shatter my resistance, Sherry was willing to risk her own life. I had just filled a cup of hot water and reached the top of the stairs when I saw Sherry standing near the edge, a few steps down. She glanced at me, and in the next second, she threw herself backward without hesitation. Nathan came charging up from downstairs. Sherry lay at the landing below, her leg visibly fractured, clutching her shin as cold sweat beaded on her forehead. She gripped Nathan’s sleeve, sobbing hysterically. “Nathan, don’t blame Evelyn… I just lost my footing. She was only angry with me, please don’t be mad at her.” Nathan cradled her tightly, snapping his head up to glare at me with pure fury. I pulled out my phone, loaded the high-definition hallway security feed, and tossed it right in front of him. The screen showed the truth with absolute clarity. I was standing yards away from her, not even close enough to brush her clothes. “Look closely,” I said, my voice dead of any emotion. “She threw herself down.” I thought the footage would wake him up, that it would force him to see Sherry’s true colors. But as Nathan watched the screen, his tense shoulders didn’t relax. He handed Sherry over to the family doctor who had just arrived, then stood up and walked over to me. He reached out, gripping my fingers tightly. “I know you didn’t push her,” his voice trembled slightly. “I always believe you.” But then, he spoke the most cruel words imaginable. “But Sherry’s mental state is on the verge of a total collapse. She has severe paranoia. I’m begging you… just apologize to her. Admit you pushed her, alright? Just do it to soothe a sick patient, to give her some security.” I froze, doubting my own ears. “What did you say?” I stared at him in disbelief. “She framed me, and you want me to confess to her crime?” “It’s just to soothe a patient!” Nathan’s eyes turned red, his voice thick with frustration and helplessness. “You’re healthy, Evelyn. You’re strong. You can handle a little unfairness! But if Sherry is pushed any further, she might actually die!” He squeezed my hands tighter. “Can you really not show a little compassion to save a life?” The hallway fell into a deathly silence, echoed only by his self-righteous demands. The deepest despair isn’t when a person doesn’t believe you; it is when he knows the absolute truth, knows you are innocent, and still demands your sacrifice. I looked at the man who claimed to love me. Slowly, deliberately, I pulled my hands from his grip. “Nathan,” I said, looking at his empty hands. “If this is to soothe her, then who is going to soothe me?” He froze, his mouth opening slightly, but no words came out. I didn’t wait for an answer. I already knew his choice. From that day on, I completely cut off all communication with everyone in the house. Having refused to apologize, I simply chose to ignore their existence. I stopped speaking entirely, spending days and nights sitting on my bedroom balcony, staring out into the void. No crying, no arguing. Outside my door, the sound of wheelchair wheels rolling by became a frequent occurrence. Sherry would purposely park herself right outside my room, raising her voice just enough for me to hear as she whimpered to Nathan. “Nathan, does she still hate me? She hasn’t left her room or spoken a word in a week. Yesterday I peeked through the gap in the door, and she was just staring at me with those cold, hollow eyes… I’m so scared.” Nathan’s voice was low, heavy with exhaustion. “Don’t be afraid. She’s just being stubborn, throwing a tantrum.” “But… I read a medical article the other day. People who resort to extreme silent treatment like this often have severe underlying psychological issues. I don’t care about my own comfort, but I’m worried she might hurt herself one day. Or what if she snaps and hurts you?” Inside the room, listening to her pretend to care for my well-being, I couldn’t even muster the energy to smile. I had believed Nathan possessed basic judgment. I believed he would at least respect our ten years together and not be blinded by such clumsy manipulation. Until three days later, in the afternoon. The bedroom door was quietly pushed open. Nathan walked in, followed by a man and a woman in plain clothes. The way they looked at me was not how one looks at a human being. I sat on my balcony chair, watching them coldly. “Get out.” Nathan didn’t get angry. He walked over, gently cupping my cheek. “Sweetheart,” his eyes filled with a terrifyingly deep affection, “you’ve been so suppressed lately. You don’t even seem like yourself anymore.” He pointed to the two strangers behind him. “This is a top-tier psychological care team I personally reached out to. I’ve arranged a room for you at a highly private, luxury sanitarium in the suburbs. The environment is beautiful and quiet, and no one will disturb you. Go stay there for a while, work with the doctors, and heal your paranoia and resentment, okay?” Hearing those words, the trending video from three years in the future began to play on a loop in my mind. I had assumed that scene would only occur after we had completely torn each other apart. I never expected the gears of fate to grind together so soon. I stared at the deeply affectionate man in front of me, my entire body trembling. “You think I’m crazy? You want to lock me up in an asylum?” Nathan’s brow knit together. He grabbed my shaking hands, squeezing them tight, his voice a mixture of gentleness and irritation. “How could you call it locking you up? Why do you always assume the worst of me? I’m doing this for your own good! Look at yourself right now, you look like a ghost! You can’t even communicate normally! Staying here will only torture both you and Sherry, destroying whatever love we have left. Go there to get some peace, be a good girl, and listen to the doctors. Once you’re better and your emotions are stable, I’ll bring you straight back home so we can start over.” He spoke with such absolute conviction, such flawless self-righteousness. The male doctor stepped forward, handing over a thick folder. “Mr. Bennett, since the patient is showing clear signs of resistance and persecutory delusions, we recommend immediate isolation. As her immediate family member, please sign this consent form for involuntary psychological intervention. Our team will handle the transport and closed treatment from here.” “Don’t worry, it’s just a routine procedure. The staff inside will take good care of you,” Nathan murmured, reaching for the pen the doctor offered. “Nathan,” I called his name one last time. His hand paused, and he looked up at me. “If you sign that paper,” I said, looking directly into his eyes without a single tear, “whatever was left between us dies forever.” Nathan’s pupils shrank. His fingers gripped the pen so hard they turned white. But a moment later, he let out a long, heavy sigh. “Look at you, still making these extreme threats. The doctor is right; you can’t control your emotions at all right now, always trying to manipulate me with these dramatic words.” Without another second of hesitation, he leaned down and wrote his name on the consent form. I watched the signature dry, seeing the immediate relief wash over his face. And then, I laughed. It started as a soft curve of my lips, but soon, I threw my head back and let out a full, ringing laugh. The sound seemed to unnerve Nathan, a flicker of panic crossing his eyes. “What are you laughing at?” He frowned, reaching out to hold me. “Nothing,” I said, quietly pulling my hands away, my gaze perfectly still. Seeing this, the two doctors stepped forward to take custody of me. “Mrs. Bennett, please cooperate with us.” “Don’t touch me,” I warned, throwing them a cold glare before turning back to Nathan. “Fine. I’ll go.” Nathan blinked, clearly caught off guard by my sudden compliance. Joy immediately flooded his features, erasing his anxiety. “You finally understand! Good, that’s wonderful! As long as you go get treated, I’ll give you anything you want!” “I want a chestnut tart from the bakery on West End,” I said. “You have to go buy it yourself, don’t send your assistant. When you bring it back, I’ll leave with them quietly.” Nathan breathed a massive sigh of relief. He wrapped his arms around me, kissing my forehead eagerly. “Of course! I’ll go get it right now. Wait for me here, don’t go anywhere!” He stood up, turning to the doctors with a strict warning. “You two wait downstairs. I’ll drive her over myself once I return.” With that, he grabbed his keys and rushed out the door. As the front door clicked shut, the house fell into an absolute, beautiful silence. I didn’t look out the window, nor did I check to see if Sherry was watching. I walked over to the vanity, opened the bottom drawer, and pulled out the divorce papers I had printed long ago. I slowly slid the wedding ring off my finger and placed it right in the center of the documents. Having finished, I calmly walked downstairs, bypassed Sherry who was watching television in the living room without a single pause, and stepped out of the villa that had nearly become my tomb. By evening, Nathan returned, excitedly pushing open the front door with a pastry box in his hand. “Sweetheart, I got the tart! It’s still warm, come try some…” The house was eerily quiet, save for the low drone of the television from the living room. “Evelyn?” Nathan called out, pushing open the bedroom door with a smile, only to be met by a cold, empty room. His gaze swept across the space, eventually settling on the vanity. In the next second, the smile on his face froze, and his pupils contracted with sudden terror.

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My online boyfriend got the wrong girl. He handed the bouquet of bluebells meant for me straight to my college roommate. The rumor mill was working overtime. Everyone on campus was whispering about how the hottest guy in the pre-med program was chasing the beautiful star of the dance department. But nobody knew the truth. Bluebell was my screen name. And Noah was the online boyfriend I had never actually met in person. Just that night, we were on a voice call. His deep, raspy groans came through my headphones as he complained about feeling sick. My face burned hot, and I softly told him to drink some water. He let out a low, teasing laugh. “Babe, you already accepted my flowers. Why are you acting so shy now?” That was when it hit me. I hadn’t told him yet that he gave them to the wrong person. Before I could even get the words out, a video call request popped up on my screen. In my panic, my thumb slipped. I accepted it. A pair of gorgeous, slightly red rimmed eyes appeared on the screen. The moment he got a clear look at my face, he froze. A flash of utter confusion crossed his features. Then, the call dropped. A few seconds later, a text lit up my screen. [I’m so sorry. I got the wrong person.] 01 I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. I typed back. [It’s totally fine. We never knew what the other person looked like anyway.] [Fiona is my roommate. It makes sense that you got the wrong dorm info.] He didn’t reply. Leaving me alone with my heart hammering painfully against my ribs. Noah and I had been dating online for exactly a year. I scrolled up through our chat history. It stopped at yesterday. Noah: [Tomorrow is our one year anniversary. I’ve got a little surprise for you.] Bluebell: [Oh wow, what is it?] Noah: [Don’t worry about it.] Noah: [Just wait.] I never expected him to send me flowers. I definitely never expected him to mistake Fiona for me. And I certainly never expected him to suddenly FaceTime me. Staring at the call log that lasted barely three seconds, I groaned and pulled at my hair. I had just gotten out of the shower. My hair was a frizzy bird’s nest, and I was wearing a massively oversized, faded cartoon t-shirt. Did I give him a terrible first impression? Thinking back to those stunning eyes on the screen, I bit my lip. Even his eyes were breathtaking. My phone vibrated with a rapid succession of texts. Noah: [No.] Noah: [I really did get the wrong person.] Noah: [Her name is Fiona, isn’t it?] Noah: [I saw a picture of her a while ago.] Noah: [I asked around for her number, but somehow I was given yours instead.] Noah: [I thought you were her this whole time.] My racing heart just stopped. The messages came through so fast. My eyes read the words before my brain could even process the gravity of them. I sat there in pure shock for a solid ten minutes. Only then did the heavy, suffocating truth sink in. Noah did get the wrong person. But he didn’t mistake Fiona for me. He mistook me for her. From the very beginning, the moment he sent that first friend request, he thought he was talking to the gorgeous Fiona. In a total daze, I scrolled all the way back to the very start of our chat. Noah: [Sent you a request like three times. Finally.] Noah: [Hey, I’m Noah. Pre-med student from the campus next door.] He really had added me multiple times. I was just a freshman back then, fresh out of a dead end town. The first time I saw his request, I thought it was a scam and ignored it. Second time, ignored. Third time, ignored. Until he added a note. [We go to the same school.] That was when I finally accepted. When I found out he actually went to the neighboring university, I asked him what he wanted. He replied: [I saw the photos from the freshman outdoor retreat. You looked amazing dancing around the campfire.] During that retreat, I had been randomly picked to do a talent showcase. I danced. After that, he started texting me all the time. He was effortlessly funny and never made things awkward. I was introverted, terrible at keeping conversations alive, and constantly killed the mood. I thought he would get annoyed and ghost me. Instead, he sent a cute meme of a cat squishing its cheeks. Noah: [So this is just how you are, huh?] Noah: [It’s cute.] It turned out, the entire foundation of us was built on a mistake. The dorm door clicked open. Fiona walked in clutching a beautiful bouquet of bluebells, flanked by our other two roommates. Jenna looked at her with pure envy. “I heard Noah is drop dead gorgeous. You must have gotten a good look at him when he gave you the flowers. Spill it, how hot is he?” Fiona tossed the flowers onto her desk. She grabbed a makeup wipe and shrugged. “You know those guys you only ever see on Instagram or in movies?” “He’s hotter than them.” Jenna let out a high pitched squeal. “Oh my god!” “Fiona, come on, why did he give you flowers? Did he ask you out? Tell me he asked you to be his girlfriend!” Fiona clicked her tongue. “You guys are so nosy.” “Drop it, he didn’t say anything. I was just walking through the campus gates, he shoved the flowers into my arms, and walked away.” Becca clapped her hands together. “Wow, he was probably just too nervous to talk to you.” Laying in my bed, listening to them giggle and gossip. A dense, bitter ache spread through my chest. Even the back of my throat burned. My phone buzzed again. Noah: [I’m really sorry for bothering you all this time.] Noah: [Since she’s your roommate, do you have her number or her socials?] Noah: [Could you send them to me?] 02 I wanted to say no. I wanted to ask him what the hell we were supposed to be then. Did we break up, or are we just pretending the last year never happened? My fingers trembled as I typed out sentence after sentence. And then, letter by letter, I deleted them all. Tears finally spilled hot down my cheeks as I typed a single word. [Okay.] I copied Fiona’s contact card and sent it to him. Logically, I should have asked Fiona for permission first. But it felt like my throat was packed with cotton. I was in too much pain to utter a single syllable. I put my phone on silent, tossed it aside, and buried myself completely under my blankets. Fiona walked out of the bathroom a few minutes later, looking at her screen. “Wait, someone just added me.” Jenna rushed over. “The username is Noah.” “Holy crap, it has to be him!” Fiona looked genuinely confused. “How did he even get my number?” Becca laughed. “Is it really that hard to believe? He probably asked everyone on campus for it.” “Accept it! I bet you anything he’s going to ask you out right now!” Fiona playfully shoved them. “Back off, creeps! Give me some space.” Through the slight gap in my bed curtains, I watched her. She stood there, holding her phone with both hands. The tips of her ears were flushed pink. She was wearing a silk slip dress that perfectly hugged every curve of her body. This was the kind of girl Noah was supposed to fall for. I pictured how I must have looked on that video call just an hour ago. An absolute disaster. Even if Noah hadn’t gotten the wrong girl, there was no way he would ever like someone as plain and messy as me. When I woke up the next morning, I was sick. My head was pounding with a heavy, thick fog. When I tried to sit up, my limbs felt like lead. The dorm was already empty. I wasn’t surprised. I had never really fit in with their little trio. When I was in the room, I might as well have been a piece of furniture. Nobody ever thought to check on me. So naturally, nobody noticed that the girl who usually woke up at the crack of dawn was still in bed past noon. I forced myself up and dragged my body toward the campus clinic. Halfway down the stairs, my legs simply gave out. I tumbled down the concrete steps. The students at the bottom screamed. When it rains, it pours. Not only did I have a raging fever, but I also managed to fracture my leg. Our campus clinic wasn’t equipped for X-rays, so the dean called the neighboring medical university. They hauled me over to their advanced clinic on a stretcher. It was humiliating. I was burning up and half conscious, yet my main concern was still dying of embarrassment. Eventually, the darkness pulled me under. Right before I completely passed out, I could have sworn those eyes from the video screen materialized right in front of me. When I woke up, my throat was completely parched. “Water…” My voice sounded like dry gravel. As soon as I spoke, I clamped my mouth shut. “Haha.” A low, vibrating laugh filled the room. A terrifyingly familiar sound. A sound so familiar it almost triggered a panic attack. I whipped my head to the side and saw a guy sitting right next to my hospital bed. The moment our eyes met, I knew exactly who he was. Noah held a cup of water with a straw, leaning in close. He smirked. “You usually sound so soft and sweet on the phone. Get a little fever and suddenly you sound like a dying duck.” I froze. My brain completely short-circuited. He raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Not thirsty? Or do you need me to physically feed it to you?” I snatched the cup from him. I drained it in seconds. Lowering my head, I mumbled, “Thanks.” A heavy, warm hand gently patted the top of my head. He took the empty cup from my grip. Seeing me staring blankly at the fresh cast on my leg, he sighed. “Are you an idiot? You had a massive fever and you still tried to walk? What do you think cell phones are for?” “Now look at you. Broken leg.” “You’re a dance major. Do you not realize how important your legs are?” His tone was laced with irritation and worry. It was the exact same tone he used to use when I got too busy in the studio and forgot to eat dinner. A pathetic spark of hope flickered in my chest. Was he… still caring about me? I wondered if this was the right moment to ask him where we stood. Just as I gathered every ounce of courage I had, his phone pinged. With one hand, he adjusted the flow of my IV drip, and with the other, he pulled out his phone. It was a voice memo. Fiona’s voice filled the quiet room. “I don’t just hand out dates, you know. If you want me to be your girlfriend, you’re going to have to ask me in person.” “Hiding behind a screen isn’t going to cut it.” 03 “Heh. She’s got an attitude.” A smile played on his lips. He looked up, and his eyes met mine. We both froze. We looked away at the exact same time. The silence that followed was suffocating. Under the blankets, my fingernails were digging so hard into my palms they were practically drawing blood. Noah broke the silence first. “Riley.” He never used to call me by my real name. That single word clarified exactly where we stood. He cleared his throat. “I’m really sorry about the mix up. I know it caused you a lot of trouble.” “It was a terrible mistake, and I hope you aren’t holding it against me.” “Let’s just look at it as making a good friend to talk to.” “Yeah?” A mistake. Terrible. A friend. An entire year of late night talks, inside jokes, and falling in love, summed up in three pathetic words. I kept my eyes glued to the blanket. I nodded once. I didn’t look at him. I didn’t speak. He stood up. “Your IV is done. I’ll drive you back.” I wanted to tell him no. But I looked down at the heavy plaster on my leg. I pictured myself trying to hop back across campus alone. I caved. Noah was strong. He scooped me up effortlessly and carried me to his car. Pressed against his chest, my hands hovered awkwardly. I didn’t know where to hold on, so I ended up tightly gripping the fabric of my own faded shirt. He smelled incredible. It was that crisp citrus scent I had once told him was my absolute favorite. My stupid, traitorous heart hammered against his chest. His voice rumbled right next to my ear. The voice that used to live exclusively in my headphones was right here in the physical world. The only difference was the tone. In my headphones, he was sweet, needy, and deeply affectionate. Now, he was just rattling off medical instructions on how to keep the cast dry. I barely absorbed a word he said. My mind was a complete wreck. He carried me all the way to my dorm room door. He didn’t step inside. But he didn’t leave either. Leaning against the doorframe, I quietly said, “Thank you for the ride.” He pulled out his phone to check the time. “No problem. It was on the way.” My heart sank straight to the bottom of the ocean. I realized he was waiting for Fiona. And I had been foolish enough to think he went out of his way just to make sure I got home safe. I turned around and limped into the room. It took everything in me to climb up into my bed. My hand slipped, and my knuckles slammed hard against the bed frame. The sharp sting brought fresh tears to my eyes. Right then, Fiona’s surprised voice echoed from the hallway. “Noah! What are you doing here?” “Waiting for you.” Noah’s voice was warm, dripping with that familiar smile. “Be my girlfriend? I’ll wait for you every day.” Pure instinct made me slap both hands over my ears. But I still heard her answer. “I’d love that, boyfriend.” The hot pre-med student officially bagged the beautiful dancer. The news blew up across every campus group chat. I took a week off to recover in my dorm. Even though I didn’t step outside, I couldn’t escape the endless updates about Fiona and Noah. Someone posted a picture of Fiona practicing in the studio, with Noah leaning casually against the doorframe, watching her with a soft smile. Another showed Noah dominating a soccer game, while Fiona sat in the bleachers holding his water bottle. There were candids of them holding hands, strolling side by side under the campus oak trees. … These were all the things Noah had promised me. He had told me that as soon as we met in person, the first thing he wanted was to watch me dance. He wanted me to cheer for him at his games. He wanted to hold my hand and walk around campus. I was the one he dated for a year. But she was the one living out our promises. And I was the one left completely broken. I stared at his contact, still pinned to the very top of my messages. The icon that used to pop up with a good morning text every single day. I pressed down on it, hovering over the delete button. I thought about the thousands of messages we shared over the last year. I couldn’t do it. I just unpinned him. Once he was unpinned, his name sank further and further down my inbox. It was only then I realized that the guy who used to tell me goodnight every single evening hadn’t sent me a single word in almost a week. When it was time to get my cast off, I saw Noah at the clinic again. His buddy was giving him a hard time. “Whoa, the guy who’s been MIA for a week playing boyfriend actually showed up to the clinic?” “Did you really come all the way down here just to take a cast off a freshman?” I was sitting in the examination room, separated from them by a thin curtain. I heard Noah’s voice. “Do me a favor. When she gets here, tell her she needs to keep it on for a couple more days.” His friend sounded confused. “Why? You’re the one who put the cast on her, and you literally said she was cleared to take it off today.” “Just drop it,” Noah said flatly. “Make up some excuse. Tell her the bone isn’t fully set yet. Make her wait two days.” “The intercollegiate dance competition is the day after tomorrow, and Fiona is competing.” 04 I wanted to rip the curtain open. But I didn’t have the guts. I listened to his friend refuse. “Hell no, I’m not doing that. You tell her yourself, she’s right in…” “Fine, I’ll tell her.” Noah cut him off and walked right out of the clinic. The curtain slid back. The med student looked at me, his face turning an awful shade of red. Choking back the lump in my throat, I asked quietly, “If you take the cast off today, and I practice for the next two days… will I permanently damage my leg?” He rubbed the back of his neck and pulled up my chart. “Your fracture was just a hairline. Honestly, you’re fine to move on it.” My phone vibrated. Noah, who hadn’t spoken to me in a week, sent two texts back to back. [Hey, I took another look at your X-rays. I highly recommend leaving the cast on for a few more days.] [It’ll ensure everything heals perfectly without complications.] I stared at the screen for a long, long time. Then I pressed his name, and hit ‘Delete Chat’. “Please take the cast off. I’d really appreciate it,” I told the med student. Once I was freed from the plaster, Professor Carter texted me, asking if my leg was okay and if I was still doing the showcase. I typed back. [I’m stepping out, Professor. Please withdraw my name.] When it came to contemporary lyrical dance, I was leagues ahead of Fiona. She had never once beaten my scores. Noah lied straight to my face just to clear the path for her. If he wanted Fiona to take first place that badly, I’d give it to him. I guess I could consider it payment for all the nights he stayed up comforting me over the past year. While Fiona was busy going on dates and rehearsing for her guaranteed win, I was busy expediting my visa. A week ago, before the whole wrong-girl disaster happened, I was nominated for a highly exclusive exchange program in London. At the time, my head was in the clouds. I was dreaming of finally meeting Noah, going on cute campus dates, and living out a romance. I had fully planned on rejecting the offer. Thankfully, Professor Carter had refused to accept my ‘no’ and told me to sleep on it. Three days ago, I officially submitted my acceptance. In one week, I’d be leaving the country for two years. The night of the dance competition, Fiona stole the show. She took home the grand prize. We had a celebratory dinner with the department that night. She walked into the restaurant absolutely glowing, hand-in-hand with Noah. “Just making it official for everyone,” she beamed. “This is my boyfriend, Noah. He wanted to take me out to celebrate. Hope you guys don’t mind him crashing!” The table erupted into cheers and catcalls. I sat quietly in the corner, focused entirely on cracking open a crab leg. Just as I was about to take a bite. Fiona suddenly called my name out in front of everyone. “Hey Riley, haven’t you been dating your online boyfriend for a year now?” “Didn’t you say you guys were finally going to meet up for your anniversary?” “How did that go?” I froze completely. Everyone at the table turned to look at me. “Wait, seriously? People still do the whole online dating thing?” “No way. Riley is so quiet, she’s the last person I’d expect to have a secret internet boyfriend.” Fiona laughed casually. “Oh, it’s true. I didn’t know either at first, but every single night she’d get back to the dorm, put her headphones on, and talk to him until she fell asleep.” “A few months ago, he even ordered a massive snow crab boil to be delivered to our room. She didn’t even know how to use the shell crackers. I had to teach her.” The looks being thrown my way suddenly shifted. Judgment dripped from their eyes. “What kind of internet boyfriend buys expensive seafood? Probably some creepy sugar daddy. Those guys love preying on naive college girls online.” “I mean, Riley grew up in the middle of nowhere, right? Girls from those depressed towns are super easy to manipulate. Flash a little cash and they’ll call you daddy. Hell, they probably did meet up.” “Yeah, if he’s spending that kind of money, she’s definitely already put out.” An indescribable knot exploded in my chest. Anger, humiliation, and a suffocating wave of injustice. When I didn’t say anything, the girl next to me shoved my shoulder. “Come on, Riley, cat got your tongue?” “Is your internet guy some middle-aged creep or a fat basement dweller?” “He’s spent a lot on you, hasn’t he? You guys already slept together?” “Who knew the innocent little wallflower was such a slut behind closed doors.” SMASH. A heavy glass bottle shattered violently against the floor. A strong hand clamped down tight on my wrist. I looked up into Noah’s freezing, furious eyes. “Shut your mouths!”

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It was the second week of the silent treatment with my guardian, Alistair, when he announced his engagement to the press. He was so afraid I’d cause a scene that he had ten burly security guards watching my every move. But for once, I was the picture of calm. No tears, no tantrums. Just quiet compliance. After the press conference wrapped up, his call came through. “Have all the sharp objects been put away?” Alistair’s voice was tense on the other end. “Did she make a fuss? Keep a close eye on her. I’ll be home tonight.” The butler, Peterson, shot a nervous glance at me before replying, “Sir, Miss Song is fine. She’s been very quiet.” “She said… she said…” Alistair’s voice was low. “She said what?” “She said that you look much older on television, and that you two really don’t suit each other. She said she finally understands your good intentions and has decided to be your dutiful, obedient niece from now on…” The line went dead. 1 Before Peterson even finished speaking, my phone lit up on the table. Seeing the caller ID, and the color draining from Peterson’s face, I couldn’t help but break into a grin. “It’s just my sister. Don’t worry, I’m not calling in reinforcements.” Peterson let out a long, shaky breath. My smile widened. I pointed to my bedroom, signaling I was going to take the call in private. The bodyguards looked to Peterson, and when he nodded, they parted like the Red Sea to let me pass. I slipped inside and locked the door. My sister’s voice came through, cold and sharp. “Cassie. Have you made up your mind? When are you coming to Port Calloway?” I cupped my hand over the phone, whispering, “Tomorrow night.” Seraphina scoffed. “You sure? If you flake on me again, I’m flying to New York to drag you there myself.” “I’m sure!” I promised, my voice filled with conviction. Sera was silent for a moment. Just as I thought she was about to hang up, her voice drifted through the line, softer now. “…You’ve finally given up on him?” “Don’t come back just to throw another fit about going back to that guardian of yours.” I winced. “Don’t worry, Sera. I’m over him. Completely.” The silence on the other end was thick with disbelief. I thumped my chest for emphasis. “Dead and buried!” I’d chased him for eight years and confessed my love more times than I could count, only to watch him announce his wedding on TV. Eight years of pining was a testament to my persistence. But forcing my way into someone else’s relationship? That crossed a line. That was just asking for public humiliation. It wasn’t worth it. This hopeless crush? I was done. 2 When I came out of my room, Peterson followed me like a shadow, clearly terrified I was about to have another meltdown like I did a few years ago. Back then, Alistair had gotten so fed up with my constant advances that he’d avoided me for three solid months. He hadn’t even come home. I’d tried everything—crying, screaming, threatening to run away—but nothing worked. Then, I overheard two of the maids talking. “Why is Miss Song still fighting with Mr. Croft?” one asked. “Well, I heard he’s been getting cozy with that actress lately. He’s probably giving Miss Song the cold shoulder on purpose,” the other replied. I emerged from the corner where I’d been hiding. They froze, their eyes wide with fear. I was holding a half-peeled apple, the paring knife still in my hand. “What actress?” I asked, my voice dangerously calm. If the maids were scared, Peterson was about to have a heart attack. His one job was to keep me safe, and here I was, armed and emotional. The thing is, it was a complete accident. The knife was already in my hand. When no one answered me, my anger boiled over. “Which actress? Tell me!” Peterson’s voice was trembling. “Miss Cassie, my dear, please give me the knife. Don’t hurt yourself.” His words only made it worse. My hand shook, and the blade slipped, slicing a thin red line across my arm before I dropped it, the tip landing squarely on my big toe. It was a bloody, dramatic mess. I heard later that Alistair rushed home like a man possessed that night. He saw the bandages on my arm and foot and flew into a rage, firing every maid who had been gossiping on the spot. If Peterson hadn’t been with the family for over a decade, he would have been gone too. I threw myself into his arms, sobbing pathetically. “Alistair! You broke your promise! You said you wouldn’t date anyone until I turned twenty-three!” My tears and snot soaked the front of his expensive shirt. “How could you do this? What would my parents say if they could see you now? How could you betray my undying love for you…” “It’s not real.” My sobs hitched. His thumb, warm and gentle, wiped the tears from my cheek. His expression was even softer than his touch. “You silly girl,” he murmured. “I would never play games with my heart. Don’t listen to a word of that nonsense.” … A soft, tinkling sound pulled me from my memories. A breeze had drifted through the open window, stirring the set of wind chimes hanging there. Peterson’s gaze followed mine. He sighed. “Miss Cassie, do you remember? Mr. Croft made those for you by hand for your thirteenth birthday.” Of course, I remembered. Peterson had been a front-row spectator to every single one of my embarrassing attempts to win Alistair’s heart over the past eight years. He’d seen it all. I smiled and patted his arm. “I know he’s been good to me. Don’t worry, Peterson. I’m not going to do anything stupid anymore.” Because this time, Alistair had broken his promise for real. Tomorrow was my twenty-third birthday. And he chose the day before to announce his wedding. I had to hand it to him. Well played. 3 When Alistair pushed open the door, he stopped dead, a vein throbbing in his temple. The scene before him was chaotic. Peterson and I had divided the ten bodyguards into two teams. He had five, and I had five. And we were in the middle of a loud, rowdy drinking game. “Three of a kind!” I yelled. “Royal flush!” Peterson countered. “Full house!” I slammed my hand on the table. “Two pa—” I cut him off with a triumphant laugh and a wave of my hand. “Drink!” Peterson’s face fell. He reluctantly picked up his glass, but before it reached his lips, his body jerked. The drink sloshed to the floor, and he dropped to the ground as if he’d been shot. The rowdy cheers from the bodyguards died instantly. My smile froze on my face. Oh, crap. I thought Alistair said he was coming home tonight. It was only five in the afternoon! Why was he home so early? My mind raced, trying to come up with an excuse. I was so wound up I still had one foot propped on a stool, and Peterson was now cowering at my feet. He risked a peek up, saw the frantic, guilty expression on my face, and let out a choked snort of laughter. A second later, his amusement vanished, his eyes widening in terror. “Sir! Don’t blame Miss Cassie! It’s all my fault! I shouldn’t have let her drink!” Peterson scrambled over and clung to Alistair’s left leg like his life depended on it. Meanwhile, Alistair’s right hand had already snagged the back of my collar, hoisting me up like a stray kitten. Tears welled in my eyes. I kicked my legs uselessly. “Alistair! Are you crazy? So what if I had a drink? I’m heartbroken! Devastated! I’m drowning my sorrows! Is that a crime? Is there no justice in this world?” I felt Alistair’s hand tremble. He only held me for a second before setting me gently back on the floor. His voice was dangerously calm. “Turn around and look at me.” I hunched my shoulders, trying to make myself smaller. Then I turned, plastering a bright, cheerful smile on my face. “Oh, you’re talking to me again? Is the silent treatment over?” He smiled back, a warm, pleasant expression that didn’t reach his icy eyes. “Heartbroken?” he repeated, ignoring my question. “Devastated? I must be blind, because I’m not seeing any of that.” Alistair looked down at me, his gaze intense. The room was so quiet that his dark eyes seemed even more bottomless, more dangerous. A knot of complicated feelings twisted in my gut. But I refused to be humiliated any longer. I took a deep breath, about to say something, when his phone rang. And just like that, the words that had been swirling in my mind, the questions I was finally ready to ask, were swallowed whole. What do you really feel for me? Can you just be straight with me for once? Please, stop making me guess. You push me away with your words, but your actions make it seem like you love me. Do you have any idea how confusing that is? The unspoken words lodged in my throat, and my eyes began to burn with unshed tears. Alistair didn’t notice. He stared at the caller ID, his brow furrowing. It took him a few rings to finally answer. I glanced at the screen. The name read: Isabelle Laurent. His fiancée. A woman’s voice, elegant and warm, came through the phone. “Alistair, darling? Have you picked up Cassie yet? The reception is about to start. You two should hurry.” Alistair murmured a few brief replies and hung up. He looked at me again, his frown deepening. “Are you…” he began, his tone questioning. I forced a grin, cutting him off before he could finish. “I’ll go.” He was clearly taken aback. His dark eyes were as turbulent as a stormy sea. But suddenly, I was just… tired. So tired of trying to decipher his thoughts. “Are you sure you want to? If you don’t, I can come home early tonight…” “I’m sure!” I interrupted him again, pointing upstairs. “I’m going to go change into that dress you had made for me! I’ve been waiting for a chance to wear it. Give me five minutes!” “That dress wasn’t for you to wear tonight…” Alistair started, but I was already gone. I couldn’t stand it. I ran up the stairs, my heart pounding. I was so pathetic. If I stayed in that room with him for another minute, I knew I would break down and cry. Get a grip, Cassie, I told myself, clenching my fists. Just one more day. You’re going back to Port Calloway tomorrow. Hold back these stupid tears.

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I was buried under a mountain of paperwork, completely empty-handed, when I posted a quick message in our team’s Slack channel. I asked if anyone could grab me lunch on their way back, offering to buy them a boba tea in return. The new intern, Tessa, saw the message and volunteered to help. But when she handed me the takeout box, she kept her eyes glued to her freshly done acrylic nails, picking at them idly. “So, I was scrolling through TikTok earlier,” she said, her tone casually drifting. “Starbucks just came out with this new fruit Frappuccino.” “It’s only eight dollars, but I haven’t tried it yet.” My finger hovered over the boba app. My entire lunch, including delivery, hadn’t even run me five dollars. Yet, seeing the eager look on her face, I decided not to make a fuss. I quietly opened the Starbucks app and ordered the drink for her. Tessa beamed instantly, promising she’d always be down to help out in the future. The next morning, I had barely walked through the door and hadn’t even clocked in yet when Tessa marched over and plopped a plastic takeout container right onto my desk. “Morning, June! I grabbed you lunch again today,” she announced. “It’s a chicken teriyaki bowl from the diner downstairs. Only four dollars. And for the delivery fee, same as yesterday, please. I want a Rose Latte from Starbucks.” “Venti, iced, blonde espresso, light ice, no foam. It’s only nine dollars. Thanks!” 1 I blinked, staring down at my phone. It was barely nine in the morning. We didn’t even take lunch until noon. Why was she handing me a hot lunch three hours early? Seeing me silent and staring at my screen, Tessa tapped the plastic lid of the bowl, prompting me. “Did you get all that? Venti Rose Latte. And don’t be cheap like yesterday, ordering a Grande. I barely got a taste of it.” She actually rolled her eyes. A dry laugh escaped my throat. “I didn’t ask you to get me lunch today,” I said. Tessa stiffened, her face instantly flushing red. “Excuse me? Are you seriously power-tripping on an intern right now?” “I already bought the food, and now you’re telling me you don’t want it? Do you have any idea how early I had to drag myself out of bed just to get this for you?” “I don’t care. You have to buy me my coffee. I earned it!” She practically stomped her foot, her voice rising so loud it began drawing looks from across the floor. Before long, a few colleagues wandered over. “What’s going on over here?” “Why the drama so early?” “June, is everything okay?” Valerie, a senior designer who had been with the company as long as I had, looked at me with confusion. Before I could open my mouth, Tessa’s eyes welled with tears. “Valerie, you have to help me,” she sobbed, turning to the crowd. “June asked me to get her lunch, so I did. Now she’s refusing to pay me back!” She sniffled loudly, batting her perfectly curled lashes. To me, it was a blatant performance, but to everyone else, she looked utterly helpless. The office began to whisper. I looked around at the faces of my coworkers. There was no real malice in their eyes, but the underlying assumption was clear: the veteran employee was picking on the defenseless newcomer. Valerie reached over to hand Tessa a tissue. “Hey, don’t cry. June isn’t that kind of person. There has to be a misunderstanding here.” “Look, I’ll just Venmo you the money myself. Let’s not make a scene. It’s going to look terrible if the supervisors see this.” As Valerie pulled out her phone, I quickly caught her wrist. “Don’t worry about it, Valerie,” I muttered, gritting my teeth. “I’ll pay her.” If I let Valerie cover it, the narrative that I was bullying the intern would be set in stone. Trying to clear my name after that would be impossible. I unlocked my phone. A victorious smirk flashed across Tessa’s face before she quickly masked it. “It’s thirteen dollars total. Make sure you get the amount right.” My thumb froze over the screen. The teriyaki bowl was four dollars, and her latte was nine. The coffee cost more than double the food she brought me. But I couldn’t say a word. Not with her tears still fresh. I processed the transfer. My chest felt tight, a heavy knot of frustration burning in my throat. The second the notification popped up on her phone, Tessa’s tears vanished. She offered Valerie a sweet thank-you and skipped back to her desk. Valerie patted my shoulder in silent sympathy before the crowd dispersed. The office returned to its usual hum. I set my bag down and sank into my chair. The cheap plastic container Tessa had brought was sitting right on top of my keyboard, and orange grease was already dripping down the side, seeping into the keys. I stared at the thirteen-dollar lunch for a long, quiet moment. Then, I picked it up, threw it straight into the trash, and booted up my computer. I had barely opened Google Docs when Tessa’s profile picture started flashing on my Slack. “Hey June! :)” She sent an emoji of a dancing cat. “Just so we’re clear, that thirteen dollars was for my trouble this morning. Don’t forget my Venti latte this afternoon!” 2 I stared at the message, completely baffled. I typed back: “Excuse me? On what grounds?” “I already paid you.” Tessa replied almost instantly: “That doesn’t count.” “It’s just a coffee. You’ve been here for years, are you really going to pinch pennies over this?” “Don’t think I don’t know about that three-thousand-dollar bonus you got from the last project. Every other team lead takes their team out when they get a bonus. You’re the only one hoarding it.” “To make up for it, you’re not just buying me coffee this afternoon. You’re buying one for all the interns on our team.” “Otherwise, I’ll post about what happened this morning in the main company Slack channel and let everyone judge you.” “It’s not like you’re the one who decides if we get hired full-time anyway.” Her smug threat glared back at me from the screen. I took a slow breath and did the math. There were five interns in our group. Tessa was the most recent hire, and her evaluation was scheduled for next week, along with the others. Buying five premium Starbucks drinks would run me about forty-five dollars. That was practically my budget for a whole day, or the cost of several days’ worth of cancer medication for my mother. The project Tessa mentioned was one I had managed entirely by myself last year. We finished it in mid-January, but due to administrative delays, the bonus didn’t pay out until this month. It had absolutely nothing to do with the interns. The company had awarded me a three-thousand-dollar bonus. The moment the money hit my account, I used it to pay off my mother’s hospital bills. Then, I tagged everyone in our team group chat: [Hey everyone, I have some urgent family matters to take care of this month, but I promise I’ll treat everyone to a nice dinner as soon as next month’s paycheck comes in.] Tessa had been in that chat. She had replied with a heart emoji and even sent me a private message asking if I needed any help. She wrote, “We’re a team, June. Don’t carry it all on your shoulders.” At the time, I genuinely thought I had hit the jackpot with an incredibly sweet, supportive intern. I never expected her to completely turn on me just ten days later. When I didn’t reply right away, another message popped up. “June? Hello?” “Don’t play dead.” “I can see you’re active on Slack.” I took a deep breath and typed out a brief reply. “Got it.” You want Starbucks, Tessa? Fine. I’ll buy it. But once you drink that coffee, you’re going to have to deal with the consequences. I opened the food delivery app and placed an order for five drinks. My hand didn’t shake when I hit pay. Forty-five dollars was a steep price for a lesson, but it was worth it. It would show me exactly where these interns stood, and whether they were worth mentoring any longer. At one in the afternoon, the delivery arrived. I carried the drink tray over to the cluster of desks where the interns worked. I pulled out a Matcha Frappuccino first. “Becca, I know you love matcha. This one’s for you.” Becca looked up, pushing her glasses up her nose with a warm smile. “Oh, thank you so much, June!” Tessa immediately frowned, pouting. “Actually, Becca, you have it backward. I’m the one who convinced June to buy these. You should really be thanking me.” “Right, June?” Becca offered a tense, awkward smile and quickly looked back down at her monitor. I reached for the next cup and handed it to Owen. “Owen, a flat white for you.” Owen took it with both hands. “Thanks, June.” Tessa made a loud clicking sound with her tongue. Owen’s hands froze on the cup. He quickly cleared his throat and added, “And thanks, Tessa.” Only then did Tessa look satisfied, lifting her chin high. “That’s more like it.” As I handed out the rest of the drinks to the other interns, Tessa trailed right behind me, loudly narrating her “heroic” feat of forcing me to buy everyone coffee. I didn’t say a single word of defense, acting as if she were nothing but background noise. Soon, four of the cups were gone. Only the Venti Rose Latte remained in the bag. Staring hungrily at the oversized cup, Tessa eagerly reached her hand out toward me. “You don’t need to hand this one to me, June. Just let me grab it.” As she reached, I took a step back. And right in front of her face, I pulled the straw out of its wrapper, punctured the lid, and took a slow, deliberate sip. I looked at her with genuine confusion. “I’m sorry. When did I ever say this one was for you?” 3 The smile on Tessa’s face instantly froze. Before she could even begin to unleash her fury, Valerie called out from across the room, waving a hand. “June! The boss wants to see you in his office.” I set the coffee down, completely ignoring the venomous glare Tessa was shooting at me, and walked into the manager’s office. Our boss, Thomas, was on a call and gestured for me to take a seat while he wrapped up. I pulled out my phone, intending to reply to a client’s message. Instead, Becca’s profile icon was flashing on my screen. She had sent three screenshots of an private group chat along with a screen-recorded audio clip. Below them, she wrote: “June, is there some kind of misunderstanding between you and Tessa?” I tapped open the screenshots. Tessa had been venting in an exclusive intern group chat. She claimed she had gone out of her way to be helpful by grabbing me lunch, only for me to refuse to even buy her a simple cup of coffee. She painted me as a toxic veteran abusing my authority, power-tripping over the new hires, and using a Starbucks order to humiliate her. To make it look convincing, she had attached two screenshots of her payment history. One was from yesterday for a four-dollar lunch. The other was from this morning for a four-dollar teriyaki bowl. She had also recorded a voice note from the restroom, her voice trembling with theatrical sobs: “I know we’re just interns and we’re supposed to listen to the team lead, but are we not even human to her?” “Why does she get to push us around like this?” “She’s exploiting me today, but tomorrow it’ll be one of you. None of us are safe from her!” She sounded utterly heartbroken, masterfully spinning a narrative of toxic workplace bullying. In the screenshots, Becca had tried to defend me: “I don’t think June is that kind of person…” “That’s just because she plays nice!” Tessa fired back. “If she’s so great, why didn’t she buy us dinner after getting that huge bonus? I asked around. The manager of Team Three took his entire team out for a premium seafood buffet last week.” After that, the chat had gone completely dead. Becca sent another text directly to me: “June, do you want to explain things to the group?” I didn’t reply. She followed up with: “To be honest, it’s not really about the free food. It’s just that every other team lead does it…” “Tessa kind of has a point.” A point? A cold, bitter smile crept onto my face. My chest felt hollow. I had mentored five interns in total. Owen was the first to arrive back in March. Mid-way through, he had to take a two-month leave of absence to prepare for his graduation thesis defense. HR had approached me then, stating that internship slots were highly competitive and there was a massive waitlist of eager candidates. They advised me to let him go. It was me who argued that the job market was brutal for new grads. I was the one who treated the HR manager to lunch and begged them to keep Owen on. That was the only reason he still had a job here. Then there was Becca. She had come in with zero experience. In the beginning, she struggled constantly to keep pace, frequently staying in the office until eleven or twelve at night. A few times, the pressure got so bad she ended up crying quietly at her desk while working late. When I noticed, I immediately reorganized her workload. I took her under my wing, teaching her the ropes step-by-step. For the past two weeks, she hadn’t had to work a single hour of overtime. Aside from not buying them dinner with my own personal bonus, I had gone above and beyond for these interns. And yet, for the sake of a free meal, they were already taking Tessa’s side. I looked down at my phone, ready to type a reply, when Becca sent one final screenshot. One of the other interns had voiced a concern in their group chat: “Look, whatever the case, June is still our team lead. Tessa, if you piss her off this badly, what if she blocks your full-time offer?” The others seemed to snap back to reality, chiming in: “Yeah, we still need to pass our evaluations.” “Tessa, stop stirring the pot. Jobs are so hard to find right now. If this ruins our chances, are you going to take responsibility?” “It took me forever to land this position.” “My parents had to pull so many strings for me to get this gig.” Tessa replied with a smug, dismissive emoji. “What is there to be scared of? I already asked HR. The final hire-on power belongs to Thomas, the big boss. The team leads don’t have a say.” “June is just a glorified shift supervisor. If she wasn’t assigned to train us, nobody would even look her way.” “Honestly, the more I think about it, the angrier I get.” “I’m going to make a scene out of this. I’ll make sure everyone in the company knows how she treated me. Why should I take this lying down?” “When the time comes, just make sure you all back me up.” The screenshots ended there. Becca sent one last text: “June, I know it’s tough on you too. But everyone is really worked up because of what Tessa said.” “Maybe you should just swallow your pride and apologize to her? It’s not like a meal costs that much anyway.” “If this turns into a massive HR issue, it won’t look good on your record either.” I stared at those words, feeling a cold weight sink to the pit of my stomach. Just as I was about to type back, Thomas hung up his call. He turned to me, resting his hands on his desk. “June, the company is restructuring next month. Your team is going to become an independent department.” “I want you to start thinking about the intern evaluations.” “You decide who we keep and who we let go. I won’t interfere.” 4 For a second or two, I just sat there, completely frozen. Then, a smile broke across my face. It wasn’t a polite, professional smile. It was the sudden, sweet release of a suffocating weight that had been pressing down on my chest all day. Thomas saw my expression and let out a soft chuckle. “Don’t feel too pressured, June.” “I’ve watched how hard you work to train these new hires. I know how much effort you put in.” “With this restructure, your team is going to be independent. That means we need people with the right attitude.” His tone grew serious. “If someone’s skills are lacking, we can train them.” “But if their character is rotten, there’s nothing we can do to save them.” I nodded slowly. “And the criteria for the evaluations?” Thomas slid a folder across the desk toward me. “You set them.” “Performance, teamwork, accountability, and integrity.” “You make the final call on who stays. Even if you decide to let every single one of them go, I trust your judgment.” I looked down at the folder, pressing my fingers against the crisp paper. Becca’s screenshots were still sitting open on my phone screen in my lap. Tessa thought I was just a nobody. She thought I had zero power over her career. She thought no one cared. She was about to find out how wrong she was. Kindness does not mean being toothless. I closed the folder with a firm snap. “Understood. Thank you, Thomas.” The moment I stepped out of Thomas’s office, I noticed how unnaturally quiet the floor had become. It was eerie. I looked up and saw a crowd gathered around the breakroom. Tessa was standing right in the center, her eyes red and puffy, clutching a crumpled tissue. Her shoulders trembled with soft, dramatic sobs. “I wasn’t trying to take advantage of anyone,” she sniffled, wiping her nose. “I just… I just feel so humiliated.” “She bought coffee for literally every single person on the team except for me. How is that not targeted?” She paused to dab at her eyes. “And this morning was the same thing.” “I went out of my way to be nice and grab her lunch, but when she transferred the money, she looked so disgusted. I know she got that huge bonus, and maybe she just thinks interns aren’t worth the price of a coffee.” “If I knew she was going to use her position to bully me like this, I would’ve just kept my mouth shut and taken the loss.” She played the victim flawlessly, making me out to be some miserable tyrant power-tripping over a helpless kid. Valerie frowned, still looking skeptical. “Tessa, are you absolutely sure June did this on purpose?” Tessa nodded vigorously, more tears spilling over. “Valerie, why would I make this up?” She turned her tearful gaze to the other interns standing nearby. “Tell them. Isn’t that exactly what happened?” The interns shifted uncomfortably, exchanging tense glances. Owen’s lips parted, but he quickly looked down, failing to find his voice. Another intern stared at the floor. Becca hesitated for a long second, then murmured in a tiny voice, “This afternoon… she did buy drinks for everyone except Tessa.” The moment those words left her mouth, the atmosphere in the room shifted. The looks my coworkers threw in my direction grew cold and disapproving. “June usually isn’t like this.” “Maybe she’s dealing with too much stress at home lately and just snapped?” “Still, taking it out on an intern is completely out of line.” “The poor girl just started. That’s incredibly harsh.” Hearing the whispers of support, Tessa’s crying grew even louder. She looked up and caught me watching. For a split second, a flash of pure triumph gleamed in her eyes. Her look said it all: See? I can make everyone turn on you in a heartbeat. I stood my ground, making no move to defend myself. Sometimes, simply shouting the truth doesn’t work. You have to let the lie balloon to its absolute limit before popping it with a single, sharp needle. I walked over, wrapping my knuckles against a nearby desk to get their attention. “Since everyone is gathered here, this is perfect.” The crowd turned to look at me. Tessa sniffled loudly, quickly speaking over me. “June, I know you don’t like me. But did you really have to humiliate me like this? I’m just an intern.” I stared at her, my expression blank. “Are you finished?” She choked on her words, momentarily stunned. I lifted the folder in my hand, my voice remarkably calm. “Thomas just finished giving me my briefing.” “I will be personally conducting the evaluations for all the interns’ full-time offers.”

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