Category: English

I had plans to meet my girlfriend for a movie, but when I got to the theater, I found her laughing and flirting with two foreign guys. “Hey beautiful, we’re influencers doing street interviews. Would you be up for participating in our kissing challenge?” Hearing that made my blood boil. I was about to rush over and put a stop to this bizarre game. But then I saw my girlfriend, Tina, blush and nod, leaning in toward them. “Sure, I’m game!” 1. “Get your filthy hands off her!” Seeing Tina willingly offer a kiss to this stranger, my mind was reeling, but I still charged forward. I landed a solid punch right on the guy’s head, knocking the smirking blonde dude to the ground. The other guy, a redhead standing nearby holding a phone, didn’t look panicked when his buddy went down. Instead, he pointed the phone camera right at me, his voice dripping with amusement: “Hey man, chill out. We’re just doing a simple street challenge.” “Besides, this lovely lady already agreed to do it.” “You should respect her choice.” Respect my ass! Seeing the smug looks on their faces, I fought down my rage and pulled Tina behind me. “She’s my girlfriend. You need to leave, now!” Hearing me, the blonde guy I’d knocked down slowly got back up. He wiped a trickle of blood from his lip, putting on an innocent act. “Dude, what’s the problem? Don’t trust yourself? I was just going to kiss your girlfriend, not like I was doing anything extreme.” “You can’t even handle that? Doesn’t sound like a very secure guy. Have you even considered how she feels about you acting like this?” His redheaded friend burst out laughing, still filming. He kept shoving the phone closer to my furious face, like he wanted to capture every bit of my anger. “You got a real mouth on you, huh?” I was shaking with fury. I raised my fist to hit him again, but Tina grabbed my arm, stopping me. “Ethan, have you made enough of a scene?” “These handsome guys just wanted to film a quick video with me. It’s a really popular street challenge right now, don’t you get it?” “You’re so unbelievably old-fashioned…” Tina looked at me with disgust, then quickly turned back to apologize to the two guys. Like I was the one causing the problem. Seeing that, my heart sank into my stomach. She’s my fiancée! We were supposed to get married in a month, and she was saying kissing a total stranger was no big deal? “Tina, do you even realize what you’re doing?” I took a deep breath, looking at her with a complicated mix of emotions. “Let’s just go. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.” At my words, the two foreigners laughed even louder. The blonde guy stepped forward, draping his hairy arm over Tina’s shoulder. “Miss, seems like your boyfriend here has some anger issues, huh?” 2. “Let’s go.” I decided to ignore these two jerks and took Tina’s hand, trying to head towards the theater auditorium. But she pulled away, looking annoyed. “Ethan, you’re hurting me!” My eyelid twitched. I tried to take her hand again, but she instinctively dodged away. My head was already spinning, and to make things worse, those two guys started following us like a bad smell we couldn’t shake. The blonde one called out, “Miss, if you need any help, I’d be happy to oblige.” I spun around abruptly, grabbing the blonde guy’s shirt collar, my eyes blazing. “Why don’t you crawl back to wherever you came from? Don’t bring your foreign pickup artist crap here. We don’t appreciate that kind of approach!” “If you two keep following us, I swear I’ll call some friends to beat the hell out of you, you hear me?” This time, I was furious, and I yelled it loud. Heads turned all over the movie theater lobby. Everyone was staring. Feeling the weight of all those eyes, Tina stopped whispering. Her face flushed red, then pale, and finally, she just stepped away from me, creating distance. “Ethan, I can’t believe you’re not just possessive.” “You’re also completely unreasonable! These two gentlemen were just politely asking to collaborate on a video. Not only did you attack them, but now you’re threatening them…” “Making a huge scene in front of everyone. Are you happy now?” Hearing Tina’s words, I think I actually laughed out of sheer disbelief. I stared into her eyes. “So, you’re not coming with me?” “I didn’t say that. I just don’t like you ‘protecting’ me like this. Yes, I’m your girlfriend, but I need my freedom too.” I tilted my head back and chuckled humorlessly. “And the freedom you need includes making out with strangers, no problem?” The moment I said it, I knew. Tina and I were done. I could face assault charges for defending her, and this was the response I got. Looking at the two smug foreigners standing behind her, I felt like my pride, my manhood, had been completely stomped into the dirt. The worst part? The humiliation came directly from my own fiancée. “Tina, are you coming with me or not? Think about your parents. They wouldn’t want to see you like this.” I clutched the movie tickets tightly in my hand, waiting for her answer. “Ethan, how dare you threaten me? We’re over! Let’s break up!” As soon as the words left her mouth, the two foreigners moved in, flanking Tina, putting on concerned faces. “Miss, congratulations on seeing this guy’s true colors.” Perfect. Absolute snakes in decent clothing. “Tina, if you can ditch me today for two foreign guys, they can ditch you just as easily tomorrow.” “You made your bed, now lie in it.” Watching Tina start chatting with the two guys again, I turned and walked straight out of the movie theater without looking back. But once I was out of their sightline, I quietly doubled back and went to the theater’s employee office. I pulled five crisp hundred-dollar bills from my wallet and slapped them on the counter. “Hey man, do me a favor. Pull up the security footage for me.” 3. Back home, I smoked an entire pack of cigarettes and still couldn’t figure out where I’d gone wrong. Finally, I came to one conclusion: I’d been way too much of a doormat. In the year or so Tina and I had been dating, whatever she asked for, I gave her, no questions asked. If she was hungry, I’d order food for her immediately. If it rained, I’d drive across town to pick her up from work. If she felt sick, even late at night, I’d bring medicine right to her door. And what did all that get me? After over a year, we’d barely progressed past holding hands. All my effort, apparently worth less than two guys she just met! It was laughable. And I’d actually shelled out $30,000 in engagement money, dreaming of marrying this woman… I drank a lot that night, staring at the security footage I’d paid for on my phone before finally passing out. When I woke up again, it was midnight. I checked my phone. No messages from Tina, of course. Instead, there was a text from her mother: “Ethan dear, your uncle and I are planning to visit Tina tomorrow. Could you take the day off work and pick us up from the airport?” Seeing the message, a cold smirk touched my lips. Right, your daughter is so precious. Every time they visited, I had to take time off to be their chauffeur. Why not ask their darling daughter? Afraid of interrupting her work, but mine doesn’t matter? “No problem, Auntie. I’ll be at the airport on time tomorrow to get you.” After hanging up, I made another call. The next day, after picking up Tina’s parents, I didn’t head towards her apartment. Instead, I drove the car to a hotel downtown. “Ethan dear, why are you bringing us here? We can just stay at Tina’s place.” I shrugged with a small smile. “No need to bother, Auntie. Tina’s staying right here.” 4. Tina’s mother’s expression changed slightly, a hint of disapproval in her voice. “Ethan, honey, I have to say something. Our Tina is a good girl.” “You two aren’t even married yet, and you’re already… involved like this. It’s not good for her reputation, you know. You really should give us a bit more for the engagement money!” I nodded seriously, leading Tina’s parents into the elevator up to the tenth floor. I smiled at them. “Uncle, Auntie, you’re right. We definitely need to sit down and talk properly about the engagement money.” When the elevator doors opened, two well-built men met us, along with another guy holding a video camera. “Ethan, boss, Tina’s in room 1004.” I nodded, letting the three guys lead the way straight to the room. Seeing the two men in suits leading the charge, Tina’s mother beamed with satisfaction. She glanced at the cameraman, then grabbed her husband’s arm. “Honey, look! Ethan is so thoughtful. I didn’t expect him to propose in a place like this.” Her smile was radiant, as if I were the best potential son-in-law she’d ever met. But Tina’s father remained silent, his brow furrowing deeper and deeper. Thirty seconds later, we stopped. I let out a cold snort and kicked the door to 1004 wide open. As soon as the door flew open, sounds—unpleasant, intimate sounds—drifted out from inside. Tina’s mother finally realized something was very wrong. “Chad, please, slow down…” “Kyle, my mouth is getting tired.” The moment I kicked the door in, the camera guy darted into the room like a pro, capturing everything with his high-end gear. “Holy crap! Damn, Ethan! Talk about a compromising position.” I lit a cigarette, leaning against the doorframe, not going in immediately. Stepping aside, I watched Tina’s parents with morbid curiosity. “Uncle, Auntie, your precious little Tina is right in there.” “Sounds like she’s getting her morning workout in. Why don’t you go take a look for yourselves?”

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The day I turned eighteen, my sister Sarah was found dead outside, barely clothed and covered in bruises. My mom looked over her little ledger book, spat on the ground, and said, “Useless girl. Still cost me ten grand, that one.” Then, without even looking at Sarah, she wrapped her in an old sheet and had someone dump her body out in the woods. But this time, I’m going back. This time, I’m going to save my sister. 1. Early on my birthday morning, my sister Sarah, who I hadn’t seen in a year, called me from the payphone down at the corner store in our old town. “Ashley, happy birthday! Can you come home today? I got you a present!” Her voice sounded grown-up, but there was still that childlike innocence in it, the kind that didn’t match her age. At that moment, I was already walking the streets downtown, handing out flyers to scrape together tuition for the next semester. After I finished middle school, Mom and Dad wanted me to quit school and work in the factory. I refused. They beat me so bad I was stuck in bed for a month, then they kicked me out. Luckily, I met my mentor, Mrs. Evans. She organized a fundraiser through the whole school, and that’s the only reason I got to go to high school. When I applied for college, I picked the one furthest away from home I could find. I paid for everything myself – tuition, living expenses, everything. I left home for good. The only person who ever remembered my birthday was my sister, Sarah, whose mind was still like an eight-year-old’s. Hearing the hope in her voice, I had to choke back tears and say no. But Sarah understood. She even tried to cheer me up. “Okay, Ashley. Then when you come back for Christmas, I’ll have money! I can help pay for your school then!” Sarah got a really high fever when she was eight. Mom and Dad didn’t want to spend money on a doctor. They only took her when she was barely breathing. She pulled through, but her mind never grew past that year. Her idea of “making money” was doing little chores for neighbors, who’d give her pocket change out of pity, enough for candy. Tears streamed down my face listening to her. Right then, I promised I’d come home the next day. I could hear the smile in her voice over the phone. But by nightfall, I got the terrible news. My sister, who was just so excited for me to come home that morning, was dead. She was found barely dressed in a field near town. And because I didn’t want to lose half a day’s pay, I hadn’t gone back. I missed my chance to save her. That day, Sarah had tucked the money she made selling vegetables from her little garden stand into a hidden pocket in her clothes. Grandma Ruth demanded the money, but Sarah refused. Grandma beat her savagely for it, made her kneel on the floor, and wouldn’t give her anything to eat. Sarah got so weak from hunger she couldn’t even stand. She begged Grandma Ruth for food. But Grandma refused. Instead, she dragged Sarah over to Old Man Hemlock’s place. That’s right. My grandmother took my sweet, mentally disabled sister and handed her over to that disgusting old bachelor, Hemlock. She charged him by the visit. Sarah fought back. Hemlock beat her up. She managed to run away in terror, but she had nowhere to go. She ended up hiding in that field at the edge of town. By the time I rushed back the next day, I found her. Her clothes were torn, her body covered in dark bruises. The blood beneath her had dried. She wasn’t breathing. My head roared. I quickly took off my jacket and covered her, sobbing uncontrollably. And the one responsible, Grandma Ruth, was already spreading lies among the townsfolk. “That poor girl, her mind ain’t right. Had one of her fits, tore off her clothes, ran outside. Froze to death out there. Such a shame, such an embarrassment.” Grandma rubbed her eyes like she was crying, but her face was dry. “I had a bad headache last night. Made her dinner and went straight to bed. How was I supposed to know the poor thing would go crazy and do something like this? It’s a curse on this family!” My father put on a show of sadness. “We never mistreated her here at the Miller house. It was just her time, I guess. Nobody’s fault.” Then he pretended to cradle Sarah gently, talking about giving her a proper burial. The moment he got her back to the house, though, he dropped her body on the floor in disgust. “Bad luck,” he muttered. 2. My mom immediately pulled out the little notebook she always carried, tallying things up. Her face was long and sour. “Just like I said, a drain on resources. Raised her all these years, and I’m still out ten thousand dollars!” My name is Ashley Miller. My sister’s name was Sarah Miller. I was an unplanned baby. My parents actually gave me away at first. But after Sarah got sick at eight and stayed… simple, and Mom couldn’t get pregnant again, they took me back. Then my brother, Kevin, was born. Suddenly, Mom and Dad’s attitude towards me did a complete 180. They treated Sarah even worse, like they couldn’t wait for her to just disappear. Grandma Ruth never had a kind word for her. It was always yelling or hitting. Mom and Dad just looked the other way. Even with Sarah’s death, all the suspicious circumstances, they didn’t care. They decided she’d had a “fit,” fallen, and frozen to death. They were just glad the burden was finally gone. That evening, Grandma Ruth took out a wad of cash and handed it to Mom. “Here’s thirteen hundred. Hemlock gave two hundred the first month. After that, he complained she wasn’t a virgin anymore, so it was ten bucks a time. Ten times a month. Kevin wants those new Jordans, right? Use this to buy them for him.” My head exploded with a buzzing sound. Everything clicked into place. Blinded by grief and fury, I snatched the money and ripped it to shreds, screaming through my tears: “Are you even human?!” My father slapped me hard across the face. Grandma and Mom started screaming abuse at me. They didn’t feel guilty at all. They were just furious I’d destroyed the money. Later, when I was digging a small grave for Sarah myself, I found something sewn into the lining of her worn-out jacket. A hundred dollars in carefully folded bills, and a note written in shaky, childish letters: “Ashley, Birthday present.” The sky was painfully clear, but I felt like I was standing in a downpour, my face completely soaked. For the rest of my life, even after I made something of myself and cut off all ties with my parents, what happened to Sarah was like a thorn stuck deep in my heart, making it hard to breathe. Then, I opened my eyes. I saw the bus ticket stub in my hand. Tears flooded my eyes. I was back. Back on the day that haunted me for the rest of my life. This time, I didn’t wait until the next day. I caught the overnight bus straight back to my hometown. Sarah, please wait for me this time! 3. After a whole day on the bus, a few more hours on a connecting local line, and then catching a ride with a guy on a beat-up motorcycle, I finally made it back home just as evening fell. Nights in the countryside aren’t filled with colorful lights or busy streets. Just endless darkness and the sound of crickets chirping all around. Using the faint starlight, I found Sarah in the field near the edge of town. Her forehead was bleeding heavily, and her body was covered in countless cuts and bruises. The night wind blew, and she curled up tighter, moaning softly, “Hurts… Grandma… it hurts so bad.” Seeing her trying to cry but unable to, just lying there barely conscious, I scrambled towards her like a madwoman, holding her thin body close, trying to wipe away the blood. In this remote, backwards part of the country, old, toxic ideas were still strong. Having a son meant carrying on the family name; daughters were just expenses, looked down on from the day they were born. In this kind of environment, where boys were prized above all else, Sarah, being intellectually disabled from her illness, was even more of an outcast, a constant target. Grandma Ruth used her to get money, and even if my parents knew, they turned a blind eye. Remembering what happened last time, I quickly pulled out the first-aid supplies I’d brought and started trying to stop the bleeding. Sarah felt the cool antiseptic and slowly opened her eyes. “Ashley?” She struggled to lift her heavy eyelids, trying to figure out if I was real or just a dream. I squeezed her hand. “Sarah, it’s me, Ashley.” A weak smile touched her lips. She tried to reach into her pocket, but her hand fell back several times, lacking strength. Finally, she managed to pull out the hidden bundle of cash. “Ashley… this is my garden money… your birthday present… Take it for school… don’t let Grandma… find it…” She couldn’t catch her breath and coughed up a mouthful of blood. Tears were streaming down my face by now. I quickly tucked the hundred dollars into my bag. “Okay, Sarah. I’ll keep it safe.” She tried to say something else, but she passed out. I had to get her to a hospital immediately, or she wouldn’t make it. “Open the door!” I carried Sarah back to the house on my back and started pounding on the door. After what felt like forever, Grandma Ruth opened it, muttering curses. “Crazy girl, what’re you screaming about in the middle of the night!” She pushed the door open, saw Sarah unconscious on my back, and froze for a second. Then she put on a fake concerned voice, “What happened to Sarah?” I didn’t have time to argue. I needed to get Sarah help fast, and that meant getting Grandma to find someone in town with a truck. In this town, most of the young people had left for work elsewhere, and the kids had no say. Without Grandma Ruth asking, nobody would help me. But when I asked her, she yelled, “It’s the middle of the night! That stupid girl ran off dressed like that! It’ll cause a scandal! Who am I supposed to ask for help now!” I shot back furiously, “You know exactly why she was out here in the middle of the night, don’t you?” Grandma yelled even louder, “She’s got legs, hasn’t she? How should I know where she goes!” Everything I’d been through growing up taught me one thing: with unreasonable old people like Grandma, you had to get tough to make them listen. I spat out a harsh threat: “If you don’t find someone to help right now, and Sarah dies, I swear I’ll take Kevin down with me. I’ll make sure the Miller family name ends right here!” Kevin was her Achilles’ heel. She started screaming insults at me, but she reluctantly went off to find help. While she was gone, I quickly changed Sarah into a clean set of clothes. I wouldn’t give the villagers any chance to mock her. Sarah was finally taken to the hospital. My parents also flew back overnight. Not because they were worried about Sarah, though. They came back to make sure no more money was “wasted.” Faced with the medical bills, Grandma Ruth was the first to collapse onto the hospital floor, wailing, “I’m just an old woman! I raised that simple girl, where would I get money? I ate scraps so she could have food! I never mistreated her!” “It’s just a few cuts, what does she need a hospital for? Slap some bandages on her, stop the bleeding. If she lives, she lives. It’s fate. Treating her is just throwing money away.” My mom pulled out her ledger. “It cost so much to raise her! She still owes me ten thousand dollars! Where would we get money to treat her? No money!” I was furious. “You had us, but you never took responsibility! You don’t deserve to be called parents!” Mom’s eyes bulged. “Like anyone wants you either!” My dad impatiently asked if I wanted them to just bring Sarah home. He’d pay for the gas, tops. If I didn’t listen, they were washing their hands of it. Her life or death had nothing to do with them anymore. I stood firm. “I’ll take care of Sarah from now on. Even if I have to sell my blood or work myself to the bone, I’ll get her the treatment she needs.” “Fine, you take care of her then. Don’t come crawling back to us.” “Even if we die, Sarah and I won’t die in your house!” My dad decisively took my mom and grandma and left. As they turned away, I heard Grandma Ruth talking about buying Kevin new clothes and shoes. They had money for plane tickets, but not for Sarah’s hospital bills. The absolute heartlessness of my own parents chilled me to the bone. Thankfully, luck was on our side. Sarah’s injuries were mostly external, severe blood loss, but no internal damage. The money I’d saved from working, plus the hundred dollars Sarah had saved from her garden, was enough to cover the initial medical bills. After paying, there was even a little left over for basic needs. With proper treatment, Sarah slowly started getting better. The knot of tension inside me finally began to loosen. The day she was discharged, Sarah hid behind me, clutching my hand and crying. “Grandma hit me and yelled at me… she didn’t give me enough food… she took me to that man’s house and he hit me… I don’t want to go back and see Grandma.” “Ashley, I’ll be good. I’ll work hard and earn my own money… Can we not go back to Grandma’s house? Please?” Even with the mind of an eight-year-old, Sarah understood everything. Tears streamed down my face as I hugged her tight, trying to give her a sense of safety. “We’ll work hard, support ourselves, and never go back there again.” That memory would haunt her for the rest of her life. For the rest of mine, I would do everything in my power to protect Sarah and make sure she knew only joy. 4. The first challenge after leaving the hospital was finding a place to live and figuring out how we’d eat. With Sarah, I couldn’t stay in the college dorm anymore. I found a tiny basement room near campus, just big enough for one bed. The landlady, Mrs. Peterson, was a kind woman. When Mrs. Peterson heard our story, she agreed to let us pay the rent later. We didn’t get lucky with some rich benefactor swooping in to save us. I knew deep down that for poor people like us, the only real chance was to cling tightly to education, to use it as a vine to climb up. No matter how hard life got, I couldn’t let go of my chance to learn. When I didn’t have classes, I took Sarah with me to hand out flyers. At night, I worked as a server at a fried chicken joint while Sarah rested at home. One night, coming home late from my shift, I found Sarah waiting up, guarding a steaming bowl of beef noodles. When she saw me, she immediately put down her chopsticks and brought it over. “Ashley, breakfast!” she said, mixing up night and day. After paying the rent yesterday, Sarah and I had less than five dollars between us. An eight-dollar bowl of noodles was a luxury for us, used to surviving on plain bread. “Sarah, where did you get this?” Her eyes sparkled brightly. “Mrs. Peterson! She helped me find a job! Washing dishes at the diner down the street. I get free breakfast every day, and five hundred dollars a month!” Sarah carefully blew on the noodles to cool them for me. Her clear, bright eyes watched me intently. “Ashley, Mrs. Peterson said I have to help you as much as I can, so I’m not a burden. I’ll work hard to earn money so you can stay in school.” Looking into her innocent eyes, tears started streaming down my face again. How could anyone call her a burden, an idiot? She was my wonderful sister, who loved me and cared for me. By my sophomore year, thanks to our hard work and careful saving, things weren’t quite so tight. At least I could pay my tuition. Sarah and I didn’t have to eat plain bread every meal; we could afford meat sometimes. Mrs. Peterson felt sorry for us and cleared out a storage room on the first floor for us to live in, without raising the rent. We finally moved out of the damp, dark basement. The shop owners and neighbors nearby knew our situation, and many were happy to lend a hand. Mr. Henderson, the security guard at a nearby building, would keep an eye out when I wasn’t home to make sure Sarah didn’t wander off. Ms. Davies at the corner store would give Sarah snacks and toiletries, pretending they were about to expire. Mrs. Peterson often claimed she’d cooked too much food. There was Mr. Johnson, old Mrs. Gable… Our biological family was a wreck, but strangers we’d never met showed us endless warmth. By my junior year, life got even better. Sarah and I each bought a cheap smartphone. Our family thought Sarah was too stupid to bother teaching, she’d never spent a day in school. So, I started from the very beginning, teaching her how to hold a pen, how to write her name, letter by letter. Then I taught her phonics. It was slow and difficult, but day after day, Sarah finally learned to slowly type out words. Now, we could communicate even when I wasn’t home. Senior year, I got an internship at a company. During a work trip, we got caught in a flash flood out in the countryside. Relying on the survival skills I’d learned growing up in a rural area, I managed to grab onto a big tree. I also pulled a colleague who’d been swept away to safety with me. Later, I found out he was the boss’s son, working his way up from the bottom to learn the business. After that incident, the boss learned about me. He reviewed my performance records since I joined the company and moved me to the Marketing Department, where hard work directly translated into better rewards. A few years later, I finally established myself in this bustling, glittering city through my own efforts. I became the Marketing Manager. I moved with Sarah into a nice apartment complex the company rented for me. Sarah adapted well to city life. She even took some classes at a special needs center, learning new things. She happily became my supportive home-helper. Just as I was starting to look forward to a brighter future… My mother showed up at my door with my ailing father and my brother Kevin, who had dropped out of high school.

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It wasn’t until after we got married that I found out my husband couldn’t have kids. And then he had the nerve to suggest I sleep with his dad to carry on the family line! It was so messed up, I cut him off completely and demanded a divorce. But that creep wouldn’t give up. He even started trashing me online, trying to bully me into giving in. I just scoffed. Fine, if that’s how you want to play it, let the internet judge your messed-up family drama! 1 I was at my desk, trying to catch up on work, when I realized I was being cyberbullied. I’d taken time off for the wedding and honeymoon, and now I was drowning in deadlines. “Hey, uh, Ashley? I think your husband posted something about you online.” I looked up. My coworker, Sarah, looked hesitant. She sent me a link. I clicked it, and there it was – a selectively edited audio clip. Just a few lines, but totally explosive. “Ashley, didn’t we talk about this before the wedding? We agreed we’d start trying for a baby right away. You were okay with it then, why change your mind now?” That was supposed to be him, sounding confused and innocent. Then me: “Are you kidding me, Mark? If you want a baby so bad, why don’t you make one? … Yeah, I changed my mind, so what? … Do you even deserve one?” My voice sounded harsh, dismissive. Mark, my husband, had cleverly edited it to make him look like the victim and me like the cold-hearted bitch. To top it off, he’d added a video. I pressed play. It showed our bedroom – his family’s house bedroom, technically. Mark looked awful – unshaven, teary-eyed. “Ashley, I’m so sorry. If you don’t want kids, we don’t have to have them, okay? Just come back. I’ll do anything. Even if I never have kids, it doesn’t matter. I can’t live without you. Please forgive me, I’ll never bring up kids again…” This curated audio, plus his Oscar-worthy performance, totally fooled anyone who didn’t know the real story. The comment section was blowing up. Thousands of replies already. “Wow, what is this woman’s problem?” “They agreed beforehand! Changing her mind now is basically saying she wants his family line to end. So selfish.” “Poor guy. She treats him like dirt, and he’s still head over heels. Guess I’m not cut out for that kind of ‘love’.” It was going exactly as Mark planned. The edited clip and video swayed everyone. The comments were almost entirely against me, attacking me. Some trolls even started insulting my parents, getting really personal. I read the comments, my blood running cold. See? They didn’t care about the truth. They just wanted to vent. The few comments defending me or suggesting there might be more to the story were quickly buried. Anyone who spoke up for me became a target too. “What’s there to question? Easy for you to judge when it’s not your family dying out. If you think something’s fishy, fine, hope you never have kids either, lol.” “She treats her new husband like crap? Probably slept around before. Can’t believe anyone’s defending her. Seriously messed up values. Blocked.” Things spiraled fast. My phone started exploding with calls from unknown numbers. Texts filled with disgusting insults flooded my inbox. Mark had posted my contact info in the comments. “I’m too scared to contact my wife anymore. Please, internet, help me talk some sense into her. Here’s her number. If she comes back, you’ll all be my saviors.” It went viral so quickly. Within an hour, it was the top story on the local news feed. Family and friends started messaging me, asking what was going on. Even though most of them didn’t believe I was that kind of person and figured there was something I wasn’t saying, the audio and video were right there, making them doubt. Sarah must have seen how upset I was. She pulled me into a hug. “Ashley, I know there’s more to it,” she whispered. “Whatever it is, if you need to talk, I’m here. We’ll figure it out together.” Seeing her genuine concern, all the stress and hurt I’d bottled up for a week just poured out. I hugged her back tightly. “Thanks, Sarah,” I mumbled through tears. The online attacks hadn’t made me cry, but my friend’s kindness broke the dam. 2 Sarah patiently helped me calm down, and I managed to give her a vague outline of what happened. Mark and I met in college. We got married right after graduation. He was Student Government President back in sophomore year when he supposedly fell for me “at first sight” and started pursuing me relentlessly. Flowers, dinners, constant attention – he was everywhere. Being this popular guy on campus, yeah, I fell for it. We started dating. But the thing that really convinced me he was “the one” was how respectful he seemed. In this age of hookup culture, Mark was always proper, never pushed things physically. Even when we traveled and stayed in the same hotel room, I saw him struggling, saw the desire in his eyes. But he always stopped before things went too far, even when I hinted it was okay. “Ashley’s my treasure,” he’d say. “I have to respect her. I can only truly have all of her on our wedding day…” I felt his urgent kisses, the sweat from his excitement, but even then, he wouldn’t cross that line. At that moment, I thought, this is the guy. He’s the one. Who could have guessed the real reason he didn’t go further was because he couldn’t? He was impotent and infertile. I still remember how excited and nervous I was on our wedding night. The dream was coming true; I could finally be with the man I loved. But when I walked into the bedroom – the one we’d decorated together – I found his paralyzed father lying on our marriage bed! Mark was just sitting casually beside the bed. When he saw me, his face lit up. “Ashley! I’m so happy! We finally made it to today! Quick, get in bed with Dad! After tonight, we can have our baby!” His words hit me like a bucket of ice water, freezing me on the spot. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I stared at him, my chest tight, gasping for air, unable to speak. “Ugh—” I bent over slightly, gagging. Pulling myself together, wiping away tears, my voice trembling, I asked, “What… what do you mean? Your dad is in our bed? You mean… you want me to have a baby with your dad?” Mark acted like it was the most normal thing in the world. “Yeah, isn’t it obvious? Why are you getting so worked up? What’s the difference between having my baby and having my dad’s baby? As long as the kid has our family blood, that’s all that matters, right?” Mark was a late-in-life child. His mom died young, and his dad raised him alone through hard times. His dad was seventy now, paralyzed from an accident years ago, and had dementia. He couldn’t even move. I’d promised myself I’d treat his dad like my own father after we got married. But now, there he was, lying on the bed, drooling with a vacant smile, seemingly unaware of what was supposed to happen. Mark’s words made me gasp. I was shaking with rage. Pointing at his father on the bed, I yelled, “Even if your dad is paralyzed, it doesn’t matter?! Mark, what the hell were you thinking? Was everything between us, all the sweetness, was it all fake???” Seeing me lose it, Mark looked guilty for a split second, but it was quickly replaced by irritation and defensiveness. “What’s the big deal? My dad’s paralyzed. He can’t tell anyone.” Maybe realizing how awful that sounded, his tone suddenly softened. He looked at me deeply. “Ashley, you’re always so understanding, right? You love me so much, just do this one thing for me, okay? Our family needs an heir!” “I’m hurting too, you know? Do you have any idea what it feels like to push the person you love onto someone else? Especially when it’s my own father? But I don’t have a choice! If I could, I’d want to be with you myself! But God gave me this broken body, I don’t even feel like a real man…” He broke down, sobbing, kneeling on the floor. He crawled towards me, his eyes red, pleading. “Ashley… later, after the baby’s born, we can have a good life, okay? If… if you really don’t want to… we could just be like… sisters…” 3 After that, I completely lost it. We had a massive fight. I can barely remember exactly what was said, only the overwhelming anger and absurdity of it all. Ignoring Mark’s attempts to stop me, I ran out of the house in a daze. Only one thought echoed in my mind: Get away from Mark. Get a divorce. Before the wedding, I’d truly believed Mark was the one I could spend my life with. I never imagined all his patience and tenderness were just an act, a carefully planned conspiracy. Blinded by love, I’d transferred the ownership of two properties my parents gave me as wedding gifts, plus all my dowry assets, into both our names. If we divorced now, there was a good chance all our assets would be split equally. I couldn’t let that happen. I wanted to ruin his reputation, leave him with nothing, make him pay for what he did. But before I could even figure out a plan, Mark struck first. He tried to use public pressure to force me back. He knew I cared about my reputation and didn’t want to worry my parents. He figured I’d cave under the pressure. After all, I’d always been gentle, understanding, and agreeable around him. Even when we argued, I was usually the first to back down. He assumed I wouldn’t have the guts to fight back. I let out a cold laugh. Since Mark was so eager for me to come back and be his family’s broodmare, fine. I’d go back. I took leave from work as quickly as I could, ignoring the weird looks from my colleagues, and headed straight to Mark’s house. That day, getting into his house was suspiciously easy. The front door, usually locked tight, was wide open. I took a deep breath and pushed it open, only to find— In the small living room, Mark was sitting on the sofa, scrolling through his phone with a smug look. The sunlight glinting off his glasses made him look particularly sinister. And his father… was lying next to him on the sofa, completely naked, except for some carefully wrapped ribbons tied around his body, accentuating the folds of loose skin. Like a “present” waiting to be unwrapped. Hearing me enter, Mark glanced up. Seeing it was me, his eyes lit up. He jumped up, grabbed my sleeve, and pulled me inside. “Ashley, come here! I knew you couldn’t stay away from me! I knew you’d come around!” 4 The moment Mark came towards me, a wave of nausea washed over me. I bit down hard on my lip to stop myself from wanting to literally kill him. But outwardly, I let him pull me forward, looking dazed. I didn’t struggle, didn’t speak. I just kept my eyes lowered meekly, looking like I’d resigned myself to my fate, all my previous defiance gone. Mark chattered non-stop beside me, reminiscing about our “good times,” painting rosy pictures of our future. But everything he said revolved around one thing – a baby. “Don’t worry, Ashley. Dad’s in his seventies now, basically got one foot in the grave. After you have the baby, I’ll definitely put him in a nursing home so he won’t be in your way. Then it’ll just be the three of us…” “I know you’ve sacrificed so much for me. Just this once! This one last time. After this, I promise I’ll treat you and the baby right for the rest of our lives. You know me, I love you so much…” He kept sneaking glances at me, cautiously testing my limits. I listened quietly. After a moment, I interrupted him. “So, Mark… after the baby’s born, will it call you Daddy, or… big brother?” Mark froze. His face twisted for a moment, his eyes flashing with sudden cruelty. My question hit a raw nerve, making it impossible for him to keep up the act. Just before he exploded, I suddenly burst into tears, slapping myself frantically. “I love you so much! How could I bear to see your family line end? How could I refuse anything you ask? We’ve been together for years, Mark, don’t you know me by now? How could I ever want to make you sad?” “What hurt me was that you never told me about this! What hurt was the pain of knowing the man I love is pushing me towards someone else! I just couldn’t accept it right away, so I said some harsh things. Couldn’t you give me even a little time to process?” Hearing this, Mark’s anger instantly vanished. His eyes lit up with ecstatic relief. “Ashley, Ashley, you mean…” I clutched my head, mumbling, “I was so desperate back then… because I love you. I love you enough to die for you. I don’t want anyone else! But if you need this… I’ll do whatever you ask.” “These past few days, I’ve been trying to mentally prepare myself. But Mark… I can’t believe you didn’t trust me at all. I can’t believe you resorted to cyberbullying me just to force me back. Now everyone is…” By the end, I was sobbing hysterically, fighting back disgust as I leaned on Mark’s shoulder, pouring out my supposed grievances. All the while, I subtly made it clear I’d agreed to his plan, that I would have the baby for his family, I just needed a little time. To gain his trust and sympathy, I played the part of a slightly unhinged, devoted lover, saying ridiculous things I didn’t mean. All to placate him, buy time, and gather evidence for the final blow. Thankfully, my act worked. Mark believed me. He was moved to tears by my performance. He held me tight, comforting me gently. “Ashley, I’m sorry. I misunderstood you. I thought you were still angry with me, so I just… I panicked…” Feeling guilty, he quickly pulled out his phone to appease me. Right in front of me, he deleted his previous post and edited it. “To all the concerned netizens, thank you for your support. My wife and I have worked things out. She’s a wonderful person, and I misunderstood her. We’re going to build a happy life together and have a beautiful baby soon. We’ll send out baby shower invites to everyone then!” After posting, he ignored the online storm brewing and looked at me eagerly, trying to be nice but still with an undercurrent of demand. “Ashley, I’ll give you time, but please don’t make me wait too long, okay?” I lowered my head to hide the sneer in my eyes, watching his pathetic display without a flicker of emotion. When I looked up again, my face was a mask of tearful gratitude. My voice choked, “Mark, don’t worry. I’ll start researching everything about getting pregnant right away. I’ll do my best to give the Johnson family a healthy baby boy…”

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Nighttime, scrolling TikTok like usual. Some dude in a mesh top was dancing. Pretty good moves. Couldn’t see his face, and he looked kinda lean, but damn, the muscle definition was just right. Those abs peeking through the netting… chef’s kiss. I shot my shot right there in the comments: Damn boy, gotta run, but wow The second I hit send, the guy who was just pixels on my screen suddenly materialized right in front of me. 1. Dragging myself home after a long day, I flopped onto my bed, dead to the world, and started my ritual: scrolling through thirst traps. Look, do I know it’s basically softcore? Yeah. But hear me out. These guys are strangers. No one in real life is volunteering this view, but they are. They’re not asking for my money, not trying to scam me, just putting it all out there for a measly little heart icon. What’s wrong with that? It’s not just thirst traps; it’s public service. A modern form of salvation. And my personal savior? TikTok creator EQ. He blew up outta nowhere last month. Super aloof type, never likes comments, rarely engages. Sometimes doesn’t even bother with a caption, just drops pics. Today, he dropped a new video. First time doing video, actually. Him in that mesh top, moving like that… those muscles, the hint of abs under the fabric. Was this… targeted content? Aimed directly at me? I sighed. Modern loneliness, man. A tiny screen separating me from my internet husband. Couldn’t help myself. Zero filter mode activated. Usually, I’m the quiet, sweet girl at work. Online? Total degenerate. I typed: Damn boy, gotta run, but wow Comment sent. And BAM. The guy from my phone screen was standing in my bedroom. Still wearing the exact same mesh top from the video. My eyes traveled up… to a face that was cool, sharp, and annoyingly good-looking. Looked kinda familiar. Weird. Let me look again. Ethan Sterling? My boss? The guy who always wears perfect suits, looks like he’s contemplating tax law 24/7, and never cracks a smile? Yeah, okay, we were both thoroughly freaked out. Ethan went from confused, to more confused when he saw me, then shocked, bewildered, scared, and… blushing? In like five seconds, I saw more expressions on his face than I had in the entire year I’d worked for him. “Anna Miller?” The thirst trap— I mean, Ethan— finally spoke. “Mr. Sterling? What… what’s going on?” I instinctively grabbed a throw blanket off my chair and handed it to him. Couldn’t help it; if I kept looking, I was gonna get a nosebleed. He eyed the fuzzy pink blanket like it personally offended him, but then draped it over his shoulders anyway. Body betrays the face, huh? “What did you do? How did I suddenly end up in your apartment?” Credit where it’s due, the big boss composure kicked back in fast. Already analyzing the situation. “I didn’t do anything! Just scrolling TikTok, and… I saw your…” “And then?” He cut me off before the words “thirst trap video” could fully form. And then? Could I really say it? Is that something you say to your boss who is currently standing in your bedroom wearing a mesh top and a pink blanket? “Nothing.” Online Anna: Fearless warrior. Real-life Anna: Total coward. He clearly didn’t buy it. “Phone. Now.” He even gave me the look. The one that usually means my quarterly bonus is about to evaporate. Forget the bonus, I just stumbled onto my boss’s secret life. I could end up “disappeared.” Trembling, I unlocked my phone and handed it over. It was still open to his video. Damn, he really was popular. The video already had over a hundred thousand likes. And my comment? Boosted right up into the top three. Mortifying. Clearly, I wasn’t the only one mortified. Ethan’s expression didn’t change much, but his ears were turning bright red. The pink blanket really made them pop. Almost… cute? “So,” he said, his voice tight. “You commented one sentence, and I instantly appeared here?” 2 I nodded hesitantly. It sounded insane, I know. But it was the truth. He handed the phone back. “Comment again.” He then backed away into my tiny kitchen alcove and slid the glass door mostly shut. Okay… I sent a simple smiley face emoji. Nothing happened. Total silence. He walked back into the living room, looking deadly serious despite the pink blanket situation. Like he was chairing a board meeting about interdimensional travel. “What’s the variable here?” A lightbulb went off in my head. I spoke tentatively, already cringing, “The… content of the comment?” He nodded, gestured for me to try again, and retreated back to the kitchen. I thought carefully, typed something out, and hit send. Poof. He was right back in front of me. Neither of us saw how it happened. Ethan frowned. “What did you write this time?” “Uh…” My voice got smaller and smaller. “‘Pretty sure looking this good should be illegal… ” I practically mumbled the last part into the carpet. His mouth twitched. He looked like he wanted to say something, then stopped, sighed, and just said my name. “Anna.” “Yeah?” “Try again. Comment on someone else’s video,” he paused, then added, “Same type of content.” Leave it to the boss to think methodically. Control the variables. He was treating this like a science experiment. So, he sat down next to me on my couch, watching intently as I scrolled to find another thirst trap creator and typed: Pretty sure we’re soulmates based on… well, everything Before hitting send, I had a brief panic attack. What if I summoned another one? How would I explain that? Demonstrate the magic words again and summon a third? End up with a living room full of half-naked influencers? Honestly, sounds like a dream come true. Turns out, I worried for nothing. Sent the comment. Nothing happened. After a few more rounds of testing, Ethan and I reached a conclusion. If I post a thirsty, flirty, or generally inappropriate comment on Ethan Sterling’s secret thirst trap videos, he teleports directly to my location. We just sat there for a minute, silently processing this absolutely ridiculous information. Eventually, I called him an Uber and lent him one of my brother’s old sweatshirts (thank god he left some stuff here). Before leaving, Ethan fixed me with a glare. A serious, ‘I-run-a-company’ glare. “Anna Miller. If a third person ever finds out about this, you’re finished.” Message received. I like my job, thanks. Besides, who would even believe this story? The internet, man. What a weird, magical place. Nobody knows how degenerate I am online, just like nobody knows the cool, aloof CEO is secretly a TikTok thirst trap star. 3 I got to work super early the next day. Couldn’t sleep. Last night’s events were… a lot. Ethan didn’t look like he’d slept much either. Dark circles under his eyes. Kinda matched the color of that mesh top… And then, during the damn company-wide morning meeting, I snorted out loud with laughter. My coworkers tried to hide their smirks, glancing between me and the head of the table, clearly enjoying the drama. I risked a peek at Ethan. He was looking down, fingers tapping rhythmically on the polished wood. He looked like he hadn’t heard, but I recognized that tapping. It was a warning. Sure enough, after the meeting, “Anna, stay behind.” I immediately went into damage control. “Mr. Sterling, my lips are sealed! Seriously, Fort Knox has nothing on me. I won’t say a word.” He just gave me a look, then handed me a garment bag. “Your brother’s sweatshirt. Dry cleaned. Thank you.” I took the bag, trying to smile normally. Leave it to him to return a borrowed hoodie like he was closing a million-dollar deal. Just as I was marveling at his sheer Ethan-ness, he dropped the bomb. “Business trip next week. You’re coming with me.” “Why?” I blurted out. “Because I can’t risk you randomly commenting while I’m out of state and teleporting me into a client meeting.” Seriously? Like I have nothing better to do than randomly summon my boss? I thought it, but no way was I saying that out loud. Ten points from Gryffindor and probably my job. So, yeah. I ended up on the business trip with him and his EA, Mark. Destination: neighboring state. I figured it would be boring as hell, but then I ran into someone I knew. Leo Vance. Long-term company partner, also happens to be Ethan’s best friend. Leo’s actually a pretty fun guy. Last time I saw him was months ago. Didn’t think he’d remember me, just a random girl from the marketing department. But the moment he saw me, he grinned. “Anna! Good to see you!” I was surprised. “Mr. Vance, you remember me?” His grin widened. “Of course! How could I forget? Besides, I owe you big time. If it wasn’t for you, I never would’ve won that last bet against Ethan.” I froze. Dude. You can’t just say stuff like that! What bet? Mark, the EA, suddenly looked like he’d walked in on a top-secret merger negotiation, eyeing me with a new mix of awe and pity. I immediately turned to Ethan, practically pledging allegiance. “Mr. Sterling, don’t listen to him! My loyalty is 100% to this company! I would never do anything to jeopardize our interests!” Seriously, I need this job. Ethan’s face was thunderous. Eyebrows knitted together. Looked like he was about to start yelling. I was terrified. Leo, however, was completely unfazed. He even added fuel to the fire. “What are you scared of him for? He’s not as intimidating as he looks. Hey, Anna, I like you. You should ditch this place and come work for me. I’ll definitely pay you more than he does.” Okay, I don’t know why Leo was trying to get me fired, but he was doing a bang-up job. Nope. Not dealing with this. Fight or flight? Flight. Definitely flight. “Excuse me, nature calls!” I practically sprinted towards the restrooms, escaping the corporate minefield. When I got back, they were both acting like nothing happened, back to business as usual. Weirdos. 4 This whole trip had absolutely nothing to do with my actual job. I couldn’t help with any of it. Thankfully, Ethan didn’t seem to expect me to. Like he said, I was basically just teleportation insurance. So, I tried to make myself invisible, huddled in a corner, scrolling through TikTok. This guy’s cute, but kinda scrawny… This one has abs, but way too much, not as good as Ethan’s… Speaking of, Ethan hadn’t posted anything new this week. Kinda wanted to nudge him for an update, but my survival instinct screamed NO. Man, after seeing the boss’s… uh… content, all these other guys seemed kinda bland. “What are you doing?” That cool, distinctive voice right above me made me jump. My phone clattered to the floor. The video playing was one of my pre-Ethan favorites. The creator had a thing for uniforms and wasn’t shy about it. Ethan glanced at the screen as he bent down to pick up my phone. Before I could even thank him, I watched in horror as his long fingers did a long-press on the screen and mercilessly tapped ‘Not Interested.’ Dude! He handed the phone back to me, my silent rage apparently invisible to him. “Work hours, Anna. Less time on… low-brow content.” Right, right. Their thirst traps are low-brow. Yours are high art. Got it. Seriously, I don’t smoke, I don’t drink, I don’t party. My only vice is appreciating the male form online. What’s the big deal? And what was up with Leo? Every time he saw me for the rest of the trip, he’d start grinning, trying to hold back laughter, and eventually just failing completely. By the end of the trip, Ethan basically banned us from being in the same room. Said we were “disrupting productivity.” To give me something to do, Mark asked me to book the return flights. I sidled up to Ethan’s temporary desk while he was typing away. Lowering my voice conspiratorially, I said, “Boss, I have a brilliant idea. Could save the company money.” He didn’t even look up. “Go on.” “Okay, so I fly back first. Get to the office. Then, I comment on your video, and poof! You’re instantly back at HQ. Saves time, saves a plane ticket. Win-win!” He shot down my genius plan immediately. Told me to stop thinking up “shady shortcuts.” Damn. I really wanted to see if the long-distance teleportation worked.

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Kids going missing all over the city had me spooked. So, I put up a post on my socials – big bucks for a bodyguard. Didn’t expect my ex to answer the call. Just as I was about to slam the door in his face, a bunch of figures in hazmat suits surrounded us. “Close contacts. Take ’em both.” The guy talking? My forensic pathologist husband, Cole, who was supposed to be out of town on a work trip. 1 Married to Cole for half a month, and I’d seen him exactly twice. Once at the wedding, once last week when he came back to grab stuff for that “work trip.” Honestly, the main perk of having this husband was the massive allowance he gave me. I wasn’t complaining about the freedom. But lately, these missing kid cases were piling up, and I had tickets to see Shawn’s gallery opening tomorrow. My bestie, Quinn, “helpfully” suggested, “Hey, I know a bunch of hot guys from my gym. Want me to set you up with one?” “Uh, I don’t know, Quinn,” I mumbled. “Feels kinda wrong. I mean, technically, I’m a married woman.” If Cole found out and cut off my allowance, how would I ever afford that Tiffany diamond I’ve been eyeing? “It’s just hanging out, Maya,” Quinn scoffed. “Nobody’s asking you to cheat. Get your mind out of the gutter, girl.” Still, the thought of a ripped bodyguard… my weak-willed self couldn’t resist. I gave Quinn the green light to post it. 【Hot bodyguard needed ASAP. $10k/day, plus expenses (travel, food). Must be discreet. DM for details.】 Not even five minutes later, Quinn called back, practically buzzing. “Done! Sent him your address. He said he’s on his way. Get acquainted!” The doorbell rang the second I hung up. Damn, I thought, that’s some serious speed. Must be ripped AND fast. But when I opened the door and saw Jayden standing there, all dressed in black, I nearly hurled. My freaking train-wreck of an ex? “A ‘personal’ bodyguard?” he sneered, looking me up and down. “Didn’t know you were into that kind of thing.” “Ten grand a day? Seriously? You couldn’t even spot me for a bag of chips back when we were together.” I swear, if Quinn was here right now, I’d knock her teeth out. “What’s it to you, you scrawny jerk!” I snapped, trying to shut the door. Jayden’s face darkened instantly. He wedged his foot in the doorway. “Who are you calling scrawny?” He yanked off his jacket, revealing a tight black tank top underneath. His arms were seriously jacked, easily twice the size of mine. Okay, so maybe two years had turned him into a beefcake. So what? Still didn’t change the fact that he was a cheating scumbag. I raised an eyebrow, letting my gaze drift pointedly downwards. “Where exactly are you not scrawny? Don’t you know?” Let him chew on that one. Jayden just smirked. He pushed the door open wider, stepping inside. His hands went to his belt buckle. “Seeing is believing, right? How can you judge what you haven’t seen… recently?” My eyes widened. Before I could scream at him, the hallway filled with people in full white hazmat suits. “Potential exposure! Quarantine required!” one announced. I kicked Jayden hard in the shin. “You idiot! You’re flagged and you came here?” Then, the hazmat guy next to me handed me a suit. “Secondary contact. You’re coming too.” My brain short-circuited. No! My Shawn gallery opening was tomorrow! “No, wait, officer… uh, sir,” I stammered. “I’ve been home isolating! I literally just saw this guy, like, two seconds ago! I don’t need full quarantine, right?” The figure in front of me paused. He tilted his head, looking straight at me through the face shield. “What did you call me?” 2 That deep voice, the slight upward lilt, those narrow, dark eyes peering through the plastic shield, glinting with… amusement? I swallowed hard. The word “Honey” or “Babe” felt lodged in my throat. Someone please explain when forensic pathologists started moonlighting in pandemic control? I froze, trying to formulate an excuse. But Jayden, not even bothering with his hazmat suit yet, slung an arm over my shoulder. “Yeah, officer, she totally needs to be quarantined,” he chimed in, grinning like an idiot. “Major rule-breaker, this one. Inviting me over from way across town during a health crisis for a little… gathering.” Gathering my foot! I swung another kick, but he dodged, pulling a face. “Missed me!” “Alright, alright, break up the lovebirds,” another hazmat suit sighed, coming down the hallway. “Get dressed, both of you. Let’s go.” “Who’s lovebirds?!” I yelped, feeling a scorching gaze lock onto me. I instantly regretted shouting. Even buried under layers of protective gear, I could feel the icy waves rolling off Cole. Help! What happens when your forensic pathologist husband gets mad? Does he dissect you in your sleep and flush the pieces? My imagination was running wild. “Maya,” Cole’s voice was dangerously calm. “Sounds like you’ve been having quite the time while I was away.” Jayden, standing between us, looked back and forth. “Wait, you two know each other?” “H-husband,” I mumbled, wishing the floor would swallow me whole. Silence. Then Jayden practically jumped. “Maya, you’re MARRIED?!” His shouting gave me a headache. Right now, these two guys felt like the grim reapers fighting over who got to drag me to hell first. According to protocol, Jayden’s recent movements had to be logged. He pointed straight at me. “Well, shouldn’t you track her movements too? She’s a close contact! Maybe she’s the primary source!” I shot up from my seat. “No! Don’t check!” Cole, sitting across from us now at some processing center, looked up, his eyes dark pools. He uttered one, chilling word: “Check.” It felt like a death sentence. I wanted to bang my head against the wall. Soon, the system spat out our recent digital footprints. The intake worker stared. “Okay… one of you pinged at every single bar between downtown and the west side, and the other… daily visits to late-night spas and massage parlors? What kind of ‘gathering’ were you two planning?” His look was pure judgment. I couldn’t even lift my head. Mentally, I cursed Quinn a thousand times. If I’d known it would come to this, I never would have let her drag me to those sketchy 24-hour “wellness centers.” I slumped forward, resting my forehead on the table, already mourning my allowance. Someone tapped the table twice. I looked up. The room was empty except for Cole and me. He’d taken off the head covering of the suit. “Spending my money,” he began, his voice low, “to hire another man… while you’re out getting foot rubs every night? Are your feet made of gold?” I cleared my throat. “It was Quinn! She dragged me there! Besides,” I tried weakly, “think of the small businesses! They’re struggling with the pandemic and everything. I was just… supporting the local economy…” Cole picked up his phone and made a call. “Yeah, the one frequenting the spas? There’s an accomplice. Alert the local health department, check if she needs quarantine too.” I… “Accomplice? That sounds so criminal!” Before I could argue further, Cole leaned in close. He still had his mask on, but his eyes, intense and deep, were inches from mine. My breath hitched. I just stared. “Miss Miller,” he murmured, his voice dropping even lower, “have you forgotten exactly who your man is?” My face flushed crimson. I… I… my man is Cole!

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All because I sent my wife a few photos of my abs, I was mistaken for her side piece by the guy she was keeping on the side. He stormed into my house with a bunch of his bros. “You freaking gold digger trying to seduce my girl!” “I’m breaking your legs so you can’t go around ruining any more relationships.” They trashed my mansion, worth millions, crippled me, and then stripped me naked, ready to parade me through the streets. Seeing my assistant rush over, I forced myself to say: “Get a divorce! Make sure Tiffany gets nothing, and take back every penny she’s spent on that deadbeat. Every last cent!” “She dares cheat on me? I’m gonna make their lives a living hell!” … I was at work when I got a call from the HOA about people breaking down my door. I raced back and saw a bunch of guys standing outside my place, the security guard bowing and scraping to some guy with a pretty-boy face. “So you’re the real owner! I was wondering why he wasn’t around much. This house isn’t even his. He’s a fake!” “Mr. Miller, just let me know if you need anything. I’ll take care of it right away.” “Alright, I’ll get you that promotion to security chief.” I walked over. The guy, this “Mr. Miller,” widened his eyes. “Boys, that’s the lowlife seducing my girl!” “Grab him! Don’t let that jerk get away!” A few guys rushed me, pinning my shoulders. “We finally caught you, trying to steal Jake Miller’s girl! You’re dead!” I frowned. “You’ve got the wrong guy. I don’t even know…” Before I could finish, Jake kicked me in the stomach. “Trying to deny it? I’d recognize you even if you were ashes, you mooch!” I doubled over, gasping. The security guard was all, “Mr. Miller, you okay? I’ll get him out of here.” Then he turned to me. “Pack your stuff and get out. This is a high-end neighborhood. No room for riffraff like you!” I laughed, knowing this whole neighborhood was developed by my company. “This is my house. I paid for it. What right do you have to kick me out?” I looked at the guy. It looked like he was driven crazy by his girlfriend’s infidelity. I held my anger down. “Apologize and leave, and I’ll let it go.” Jake spat on the ground. “Psh! I should apologize? You’re the one seducing my girl.” I dodged, barely avoiding the spit. He kicked me again. The neighbors were watching the show. Jake pointed at my face. “Listen up, everyone! My girlfriend is Tiffany Wilson, the CEO of a multinational corporation. This loser sends her messages and calls all the time, and sends her pictures of his abs to seduce her!” “What do you say? Should I beat the hell out of this creep?” I’d never been hit like that in my life. I was so angry I was about to explode. Hearing my wife’s name snapped me to my senses. Tiffany was my wife, but she was out of the country on a business trip, had been for the last six months. I’d only ever sent her pictures of my abs. We’d been married for five years. She was so sweet and kind. That’s why I trusted her to manage the foreign branch. I looked at Jake. “You say Tiffany is your girlfriend. What proof do you have?” “I got plenty of proof.” Jake pulled out his phone and shoved pictures of him and Tiffany in my face. I stared in disbelief. It was Tiffany. She had a mole under her right eye. I couldn’t be that stupid to not understand what this meant. Seeing the background in their photos made me even angrier. I was worried about Tiffany not eating and sleeping well, so I bought her a villa and hired a cook. She was using my money to keep another man? No wonder she didn’t want to come home! She was busy with another man! And to add insult to injury, Tiffany had me saved as “Boy Toy” on her phone! If I hadn’t seen it myself, I’d never have believed Tiffany could be so sneaky! Seeing my pale face, Jake thought I was guilty. 2 “What do you know? Proof’s in front of you. Got nothing to say now?” The neighbors were murmuring, “I hate homewreckers! They tear families apart. They should be punished!” “I’m with the wife. Don’t go easy on him.” Jake’s crew scoffed. “Don’t you know? A pretty face is how he gets sugar mamas to pay the bills.” “He looks decent, but he’s a total freak!” I clenched my fists, glaring at Jake. “Call Tiffany right now. Ask her who I am!” Jake laughed. “Think she’s going to save you? Dream on!” “I’m going to show you what happens to homewreckers!” They started hitting and kicking me. I fought back, but there were too many of them. They snapped photos of my face and recorded videos. “Put it online! Let everyone see the face of a gold digger!” I was lying on the ground, barely conscious, gritting my teeth. “You’ll regret this!” Jake stepped on my head, like I was trash. “Still talking tough?” “This is just the beginning!” He grabbed my hand, using my fingerprint to unlock the door. The luxurious decor made their eyes widen. “He’s making a killing selling his body.” “Let’s wreck everything!” They started smashing everything they could. Even the picture frames of Tiffany and me were thrown on the ground. I didn’t stop them. “My stuff is expensive. Think before you break it.” I pointed at a jade ornament Jake was holding. “That’s worth millions. Can you afford to pay for that?” Jake froze. He was hesitant. His crew said, “Millions for that junk? You trying to scare us!” “It doesn’t matter if it’s a priceless antique. He got it from sleeping with some woman. We’re doing a public service.” “He’s a mooch. He doesn’t have any money. All this stuff was bought for him by your girl. Her money is your money, so you don’t need to pay for anything!” Jake nodded. He smashed the jade ornament over my head. Pain shot through me. Warm liquid trickled down my forehead. I touched it. Blood. I was angry and hurt. One of the neighbors said, “Should you really be doing this?” Jake’s crew didn’t care. “Why not? Someone like that will just go mess up another family. We’re doing what’s right.” “The law can’t touch him, so he thinks he can get away with anything. We’re getting revenge for the victims!” Jake said to the neighbor, “I’m doing you a favor. He might try to seduce your wife next!” I grabbed my phone, but Jake smashed it. “You, a homewrecker, call the cops?” I said, “I’m married to Tiffany. You’re the homewrecker.” One of the guys punched me. “Trying to turn this around? I’ve never seen anyone so shameless. We’re not stupid. Save your lies for someone else!” I looked at the fools. “Our marriage certificate is in the bedroom. Go get it.” 3 Jake went to my bedroom and grabbed the certificate. They stared in shock. “Are we wrong? Is he not the other guy?” “Check if they’re really married.” I thought they’d realize their mistake, but Jake tore up the certificate. He poked my forehead. “You gold digger. Did you think you can forge a marriage certificate!” “My girl and I grew up together. I know what she’s like. You can’t fool me!” Tiffany had told me she never dated before me. It was laughable. She’d been playing me the whole time! “Homewreckers are so brazen now, even forging marriage certificates!” “His girlfriend is Tiffany Wilson! This guy’s doing anything for money. Forging documents is illegal!” I kept a low profile, so not many people knew me. But Tiffany, being the head of the foreign branch, was always giving interviews, but she was just a figurehead. And they didn’t know about our prenup. If she cheated, she would get nothing! The crew, believing my certificate was fake, got even more rowdy. They locked the door and kept smashing things. My home was a ruin. My antiques, paintings, and valuables were destroyed. Around six million worth of damages. And they weren’t going to stop. “Let’s burn the house down! Make him lose everything.” Jake hesitated. “Burn it?” “That’s right! This house was bought for him by his girl. It’s yours, so what’s there to worry about?” I shouted, “Are you crazy?” Jake punched me in the face. “Shut up. I know she bought it for you, and I’m going to burn it!” I laughed. The laws don’t mean anything to them. “I’m warning you. Stop now. You’ll be begging me later.” Jake lit the curtains on fire, then threw me on the ground. “Strip his clothes off! Drag him outside for everyone to see. Let everyone know he’s a homewrecker!” They started tearing at my clothes. I aimed my head and bashed it right into Jake’s jaw. He fell. The security guard said, “Mr. Miller, wipe yourself off.” Jake was all, “Beat the crap out of him!” He found a metal pipe. I had a bad feeling. “What are you going to do?” I tried to back away, but they held me. “I’m breaking your legs so you can’t go around ruining any more relationships.” Jake raised the pipe and swung it down on my legs. Pain shot through me. I heard the bone break. Seeing the blood, they panicked. “Are we going to kill him?” Jake glared at me. “Just a little blood. He won’t die.” I couldn’t talk from the pain. The fire was spreading. The neighbors called 911. The fire trucks and cop cars arrived. They quieted down. My assistant came in. Seeing me on the ground, he was shocked. “Mr. Hayes!” I forced myself to speak. “Get a divorce! Make sure Tiffany gets nothing, and take back every penny she’s spent on that deadbeat. Every last cent!” “She dares cheat on me? I’m gonna make their lives a living hell!”

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“So, Alex, you finally came around?” When I was shown into Harrison Vance’s study, the man, coiled like a panther in the dim light, swiveled his chair and spoke, his voice deep. His smile sent a chill down my spine. I swallowed down the discomfort, keeping my face blank. “I’ve thought it through. I need fifty million dollars.” “And what are you offering in return?” Harrison laced his fingers under his chin, looking entirely too comfortable. “One week. Whatever Mr. Vance wants.” Harrison let out a hearty laugh at that. “Alex Chen,” he said, his tone shifting, becoming almost intimate. “Or maybe I can call you Alex?” “Alex,” he continued, “turns out you’re not that expensive after all.” He stood up then, casually pulling me into his arms. I felt my body stiffen slightly against him, and he slowly, patiently, started loosening my tie, his fingers brushing against my exposed neck. The first time I saw Alex Chen was back in college. Tall and lean, with smooth, pale skin and features that still held a touch of youthful innocence. He looked almost identical to Julian Wells, the golden boy of the Wells family, yet somehow, you could tell them apart instantly. Harrison Vance absolutely adored that face. But this young man wasn’t Julian. Julian Wells was the cherished son, an angel untainted by the world, a delicate flower nurtured in a greenhouse, someone to be cultivated and protected. Alex Chen was different. Taking money he shouldn’t have, dreaming dreams beyond his station. An illegitimate son, thinking he could grab a piece of Apex Corp? Ridiculous. Making him face reality early would be a public service, really. But Harrison didn’t want to do that just yet. He loved that face too much. “Someone like you won’t make it into the upper echelons without leveraging what you have,” he’d said. “I like you. Perhaps we could make a deal.” “You can have anything you want. All I want is you.” He couldn’t wait to see this young man break down beneath him, weeping. It would be a beautiful sight. But he couldn’t rush it. He had to wait, slowly. Harrison waited for two weeks, precisely so that Alex Chen would come to him, pretending it was his own choice, offering himself up willingly. Under Harrison’s mocking gaze, my hands trembled as I undid the buttons of my shirt, like unwrapping a costly, fragile gift. I knew I was walking into an abyss. But there was no turning back now. 2. Two weeks earlier, Harrison Vance had practically handed me a prime piece of real estate. I couldn’t fathom why the shrewd Harrison Vance would suddenly back out at the last moment of the bidding war. “Since Mr. Chen wants this land so badly, I’ll do him the favor. Be the good guy for once,” he’d announced. I never associated Harrison Vance with the words “good guy,” but the documents my assistant provided checked out perfectly. The plot was almost too good to be true. There was an old youth center on it, but it was dilapidated; relocating it should have been straightforward. There was no logical reason for Harrison to let this juicy prize slip through his fingers and into mine. “Sometimes you have to give your rivals a little breathing room. It fosters healthy competition. I look forward to seeing what Mr. Chen accomplishes,” Harrison had murmured close to my ear as he left, his tone disturbingly intimate, stirring up unpleasant memories. I had a bad feeling about it all. Later, I found out exactly what was wrong. My plan was to build a high-end shopping mall, Skyview Plaza, on that land. The architectural designs were commissioned from a world-renowned firm, and leasing negotiations were well underway. Then, out of nowhere, officials showed up, waving evidence that the deed was still held by the youth center’s trust. Apex Corp had no legal right to begin construction. Adding insult to injury, the situation attracted a swarm of reporters, hounding me, demanding to know why I was so heartless as to try and take away the only home these underprivileged kids had. The mall project collapsed. Back at the office, the loss report was already on my desk: fifty million dollars. Eleanor Croft, the matriarch of the family that controlled Apex, slammed the report onto my face. She told me if I didn’t recoup the losses within a month, I could pack my bags and get the hell out of Apex Corp. As the head of the Croft family, Eleanor allowing an illegitimate son like me into the company was already considered an act of extreme generosity. Never mind that she hadn’t given me a single share of stock but had thrown me into a VP position. Never mind that she wouldn’t even let me take the family name. Never mind that I wasn’t allowed to set foot in the main family estate unless specifically invited. If Eleanor Croft’s own son wasn’t severely autistic, a quiet boy lost in his own world, would she ever have let the son of her husband’s mistress spend her money on a top-tier US education, only to bring him back to help manage her company? That day, I tore the giant promotional poster for Skyview Plaza to shreds, then sat amidst the wreckage, burying my face in my hands. Walking on thin ice every day was exhausting. At least now, the ice had finally, completely shattered. “Can we… not do this in the study?” As I stripped off my clothes, I managed to ask, my voice rough with shame. It sounded surprisingly appealing, that raw edge in my voice. Harrison just chuckled softly and pushed me down onto the desk. As waves of unfamiliar pain washed over me, my consciousness blurred through a steady stream of tears I couldn’t stop. In that moment, I felt like giving in: “Mr. Vance… you were right… This is the only way I can survive in that place…” “I don’t just want the fifty million… I… I want more…” Hearing my mumbled words, Harrison paused. He wasn’t surprised. People are greedy, aren’t they? After all, even he had to admit, this body was more delicious than he’d anticipated. 3. I rarely thought about the past. To me, the past was something to be discarded like worn-out shoes. It served no purpose except to highlight how insignificant I was. Growing up, I was always exceptional. Top grades, good at sports, and crucially, I had the looks. Girls were always writing me letters, secretly taking photos of me to sell, blushing as they stood before me confessing crushes. Truthfully, the grades and sports didn’t matter much; they were just bonus points. The girls were captivated by my face alone. Talent is only meaningful when it’s needed. If that’s the case, then good looks are a kind of talent too. But beyond that, I had nothing. I only knew how to spend money, not make it. I had to care for my sick mother. We lived in a cramped, 200-square-foot apartment. I wouldn’t have survived without part-time jobs and odd gigs. Nobody wanted to be friends with someone like that. No girl, once she found out the reality, wanted to stay with me. I studied relentlessly, desperately trying to improve my life. But just like Harrison Vance said, some things can’t be obtained no matter how hard you try. The day after my mother passed away, someone claiming to be from my father’s family showed up at my door, telling me it was time to be acknowledged. How naive I was. How could they have found me so precisely the day after my mother died? How could my father, whom I’d never met, suddenly take such an interest in his illegitimate son? I never met my father. Instead, I met Eleanor Croft. She presented me with an agreement and told me to sign it. Go to a top university, get a degree. If my performance was outstanding enough, I could come back and take over managing the company. It was an incredible offer, dropping from the sky, leaving me dizzy. I agreed almost without thinking. Vice President of Apex Corp, a member of the Croft family circle – titles I’d never dreamed of seemed to be desperately throwing themselves at me. I threw myself into my studies, forced myself to network, did countless things I was never good at before. Eleanor did make me a VP. But she never let me take the family name, and I still never met my father. He had no real power anymore. The President and majority shareholder of Apex Corp was Eleanor Croft. And Eleanor Croft had an autistic son. He looked a lot like me, but his fate was entirely different. Raised in a mansion, born a young master, needing to do nothing yet provided for, happy and secure. “Someone like you won’t make it into the upper echelons without leveraging what you have,” Harrison Vance had said. “You’re just an illegitimate kid. I gave you the VP title, and I can take it away anytime. Don’t think you’ll get a dime from this family. I paid for your education; I didn’t raise a useless bum,” Eleanor Croft had said. I still didn’t understand. Why, after I had accomplished so much, after I had worked so hard to become capable, could others still so easily take away everything I held in my hands? But the thing I was best at in life was bowing to fate. Talent is only meaningful when it’s needed. If this face, this body, is a kind of talent, then let’s use it to its fullest. 4. Seven AM. I woke up. At times like this, I hated the impeccable internal clock forged by years of high-intensity work. Once in the study yesterday, I was already barely conscious. Then, later, he carried me to the bed for two more rounds. Finally, Harrison seemed almost gentle as he carried me to the shower, washing me thoroughly, inside and out. I supposed I should thank him. I heard if you don’t clean up properly afterward, you end up with a fever and diarrhea instead of just aching all over. I pushed myself upright. My entire body felt like it had been disassembled and poorly put back together. He’d applied some kind of ointment back there, but it still hurt. Hurt enough to make me wince. I didn’t understand the point of any of this, but since Mr. Vance enjoyed it, I guess it was a win-win. I managed to get up and head to the bathroom. The clothes I’d arrived in were gone. Opening the closet, I found it stuffed with all sorts of clothes. I picked out the most basic shirt and trousers and put them on. Despite feeling like crap all over, I had to go to the office. Meetings to attend, projects to discuss, yesterday’s mess to clean up. Only after getting dressed did I realize the clothes fit perfectly. The butler was clearly surprised to see me up so early, but Harrison himself was also there, leaning against the wall at the end of the hallway. “Since you’re up, let’s have breakfast together.” I sat down without a word. I disliked milk, but faced with the bowl of cereal and milk on the table, I started eating without complaint. Harrison took his time, just watching me. “How was yesterday?” “It hurt.” “Are you complaining about my technique? Perhaps we should try again tonight?” I didn’t answer, just ate quickly and elegantly. “Eleanor Croft certainly trained you well.” “Can we please not discuss nauseating topics while eating?” Harrison chuckled, then slowly started eating too. “About your request yesterday, I have a constructive suggestion. Want to hear it?” I glanced at him but said nothing. “You stay with me for one month. I’ll help you get 5% of Apex Corp stock.” My hand paused for a second. I swallowed the last mouthful of milk. Then I stood up and walked towards the door. “How long have you been planning this, Mr. Vance?” “About four years, I guess. Since the first time I saw you.” “You’ve prepared thoroughly. You even know my clothing sizes perfectly.” Harrison detected a hint of something – maybe satisfaction? – in my voice, and felt a strange flicker of pleasure himself. “As long as you like it.” “Then your research wasn’t detailed enough. I hate milk.” I walked out. Harrison pursed his lips, folding his hands. “Can you be back by eight tonight?” “I’ll try.” “I’ll have the driver pick you up.” “No need. I’ll drive myself.” I walked straight out without looking back. Such a proud, stubborn little cat. The more he acted like this, the more tempting it was to… utterly break him. Nine PM. I was lying face down on the bed, silent, while Harrison was on top of me, doing whatever he pleased. His movements were rough, merciless. As soon as we got back, Harrison had pushed me onto the bed like a starved wolf, stripping me bare in seconds. Meanwhile, Mr. Vance himself remained impeccably dressed. It went on like this for three consecutive days. I had learned to endure. I tried my best not to show any aversion, just to keep Harrison satisfied. When it was finally over, Harrison patted me. “Alex is getting more obedient.” I controlled my breathing. “As long as Mr. Vance is satisfied.” “Yes, very satisfied so far. But now,” Harrison smirked, pulling me close again, “we’ll see how well you really perform.” The night was still young. 5. I just finished a very long meeting. Harrison had kept me up late last night, leaving me feeling foggy and drained today. But meetings don’t get canceled for that. Nobody cared how I was doing anyway. Men just aren’t built for that kind of thing, are they? I pinched the bridge of my nose and asked my assistant for another coffee. Once this current project was successfully completed, once I had that 5% stock in hand, maybe I could finally catch a break. Just then, my phone rang. It was Maya Lin, a friend from middle school I’d reconnected with after returning from overseas and starting at Apex Corp. She still didn’t know I was a VP at Apex, which kept our interactions refreshingly simple. Maya was a cheerful girl, working as a waitress. She came from a large family that wasn’t well-off, but she lived each day with infectious joy and freedom. I really liked her positive attitude; it was something I’d never possessed. She was my only friend. If “friend” means someone you can be genuine with. “Alex, I have the day off today! Are you free? There’s a new BBQ place downtown that’s getting great reviews. Wanna check it out?” “Yeah, I’m free.” “Great! How about we meet at the restaurant at six-thirty?” “Okay.” I hung up, feeling a lift in my spirits. But just then, my assistant knocked and entered, holding a bouquet. “Mr. Chen, a florist just delivered these for you.” I paused for a second, then took the flowers. White roses, with a small card tucked between the stems. “Six-thirty tonight, meet me at The White House.” The smile vanished from my face. Six-thirty. Harrison sat in a private room at The White House. French cuisine, elegant ambiance, perfect for a date. I pushed the door open. Harrison looked up, a smile playing on his lips. “Alex, you’re punctual.” I didn’t waste time on pleasantries, sitting down directly and unbuttoning my suit jacket. “Going to all this trouble, one might think this is a date.” “Isn’t it?” Harrison chuckled. “Don’t joke, Mr. Vance. This is a transaction between us. Things like this are meaningless.” “Alex, you have a clear head, I’ll give you that. But you also know this is a transaction, which naturally means the buyer needs to be fully satisfied.” Harrison’s smile turned cold. “I hear Alex has a girl he’s quite fond of… Maya Lin, was it?” My hand tightened abruptly on the napkin in my lap. “That’s my private business. Mr. Vance needn’t concern himself.” “How can it be your private business, Alex?” Harrison picked up the decanter, slowly pouring vibrant red wine into my glass. “The agreement is you spend one month with me. If Alex still has time for flirting with little girls during this month, isn’t that a complaint about my… performance?” I wanted to say, “She’s just a friend.” But I knew it didn’t matter what I thought. What mattered was what Harrison Vance wanted. And whatever Harrison wanted, I had to provide. So, in the end, I just said, “I understand.” Harrison didn’t seem inclined to let it go. “The food here is excellent. Try some, Alex. Tonight, when we get back, we can discuss further… how to be a truly satisfactory lover.” 6. Dinner concluded in a tense silence. Harrison was clearly displeased with my rigid demeanor. But his manners were impeccable; even displeased, he remained graceful, his smile fixed. In the car on the way back, he dropped a casual sentence that sent ice flooding through my veins. “I wonder if Alex is interested in… exploring some kinks? Perhaps we could try playing some different games. What do you think?” The look he gave me was filled with naked malice. “I think, after these past few days, Alex should be quite adaptable by now. Consider it my mercy towards you. After all,” he added, the words dripping with false affection, “I like you so much.” My heart turned colder and colder. That night, Harrison subjected me to a new kind of humiliation, forcing me into degrading positions, treating me less like a person and more like a pet to be toyed with.

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I was the kind of influencer people loved to hate, the one always accused of riding my sister Ava’s coattails. The day Ava Miller won her Oscar for Best Actress, one of her psycho fans skinned me alive. And the last video I ever posted? It got swarmed by her fans. The top comment, liked thousands of times: “Always chasing clout. She should just die already. So gross.” Well, they got their wish. I died. And it wasn’t pretty. 1 My skin arrived at my sister’s place, neatly packed in a fancy gift box. The second she opened it, she screamed, dropping the box like it burned her. “What on earth is it?” My mother rushed in at the sound. Seeing the contents spilled on the floor, she froze too. “Is… is that…?” Ava crouched down, sobbing quietly. “It was a gift from a fan… congratulating me on the Oscar. I had no idea it would be…” Mom took a deep breath, trying to get a grip. “He didn’t… kill someone, did he?” Ava started trembling, nodding almost imperceptibly, like she couldn’t face it. “It’s… it’s Zoe’s skin. Mom, it’s Zoe’s! How could he do this?” “Zoe and I were always so close,” she wailed. “Why would anyone want to hurt her? Mom, what if this is some serial killer? I’m scared!” Hearing that, I almost laughed out loud. Where did Ava get the idea we were close? Every time she did an interview or went to an event, she’d pull that innocent, “Oh, I love this dress too, but my little sister likes it, so I’ll have to give it to her after the show, otherwise…” Otherwise what, she never finished. She’d just cover her mouth, looking all wide-eyed and vulnerable. The whole world thought I was the bitchy younger sister who bullied poor, sweet Ava. Her fans hated my guts, wished me dead daily. And this “serial killer” fan? He just acted out what Ava secretly wanted. Floating there, watching Ava put on a show, clinging to Mom and crying, I saw it. In the split second Mom wasn’t looking, Ava glanced at my skin on the floor, and the corner of her mouth twitched into a smirk. Seeing that fueled my rage. It surged uncontrollably. I wanted nothing more than to materialize right there and tear her apart. Maybe my anger was so strong it created a draft, because my skin seemed to flutter slightly. Ava flinched, genuinely spooked for a second. “Mom, we need to call the police! We can’t let Zoe die like this, for nothing!” Mom started to nod, then stopped, her expression changing. “Absolutely not. We can’t report this. If this gets out, your career is over. And then how will we pay for your father’s hospital bills?” She looked down at my skin on the floor with disgust. “Your sister… always so thoughtless. Causing trouble for the family even in death.” A flicker of hesitation crossed Ava’s face, then she bit her lip, her resolve hardening. “I hope Zoe can forgive us for not getting her justice.” 2 Ava dragged my skin under her bed. My obsession, my lingering consciousness, was tied here now. I couldn’t leave Ava. My spirit drifted, watching her switch back to her worried actress persona for a call with her agent, Brenda. Brenda’s voice on the other end was soothing, promising to handle the… problem… soon. The moment she hung up, Ava’s face changed instantly. Gone was any trace of fear. She scrolled through Twitter, basking in the flood of praise and congratulations, reading aloud the comments insulting me, letting out little giggles. She even got an invite from my underground boyfriend, Liam Carter, asking her to dinner to celebrate her win. “Ava, congratulations on the Oscar. All your hard work paid off,” Liam said, having booked the entire fancy restaurant. Ava accepted the bouquet of roses, her face glowing softly in the dim light, looking shy. “Thank you, Liam. It means so much that you came all this way to celebrate with me. But…” Her gaze dropped. “I just wish Zoe could be here to congratulate me publicly too.” Liam frowned. “Your sister? With her jealousy? She’d just find another way to leech off your fame. You need to cut ties with her, Ava. You’re just too kind.” That was the first time I heard what my own boyfriend really thought of me. Ava quickly jumped to my “defense.” “Oh, Liam, she must have her reasons. It’s probably our fault for not communicating better. She even blocked the whole family.” Liam looked unconvinced. Ava’s expression shifted to worry again. “I hope nothing’s happened to her, Liam. I’m really worried. Her TikTok hasn’t been updated in days. It’s the only way we know if she’s okay.” Her voice cracked, like she was genuinely on the verge of tears for me. Damn, Ava really earned that Oscar. If I wasn’t dead and watching her, even I might have been fooled. And the poor sap sitting across from her? He just scoffed. “What could happen to her? She’s probably staking out the spot where you walked the red carpet yesterday, planning her next copycat stunt.” Liam had reason to say that. It wouldn’t have been the first time. Three years ago, when Ava was first nominated, she tripped dramatically on the red carpet. Every gossip site covered it. #MostBeautifulStumble #ActressAvaTakesATumble. She trended instantly, comments pouring in about her grace even when falling. Me? As just an influencer, I had no business being at the Oscars. But my agency threatened to sue me for breach of contract if I didn’t go and somehow get noticed. Every dime I earned went straight to Dad’s medical bills after his stroke; I couldn’t afford a lawsuit. So, swallowing my pride, I went. On the red carpet, some asshole shoved me hard. I fell right where Ava had stumbled. With my face being somewhat similar to hers, I trended too – but for all the wrong reasons. #DesperateCloutChaser #PlasticSurgeryFail. Countless articles blamed me for Ava losing the Oscar that year. After that, thanks to my agency’s shady tactics, I was constantly framed as “copying” Ava, even when I wasn’t there – they’d just photoshop me into pictures. Worse, I started finding evidence that Ava herself was orchestrating some of it behind the scenes. That’s when Liam, my boyfriend of four years since college, stopped believing me. He started saying my “tactics” disgusted him. No matter how many times I tried to explain, he’d just look at me with disappointment. “I never thought you’d change so much after college, Zoe. You’ve lost your way. With this attitude, you’ll never make it in serious acting. You’ll never have Ava’s artistic integrity.” I had no response. Ava, also a drama school grad, went straight into acting, preaching about her “dream.” Meanwhile, I, with the same training, was pushed by Mom into the influencer grind because it paid faster – becoming fodder for gossip blogs and hate comments. So when I discovered Ava was actively sabotaging me? I couldn’t tell anyone. Who would believe that America’s sweetheart actress was secretly screwing over her influencer sister? I was defenseless, dragged through the mud, branded “the most annoying influencer ever.” 3 Before Liam left the restaurant, he kept reassuring Ava, telling her not to let “people like me” get to her, saying clout chasers always get what they deserve. Ava nodded sweetly, then went back to her busy schedule of endorsements and appearances. Later, scrolling through Twitter, she saw my name trending again. After my death, someone – probably my scummy agency – had uploaded a set of photos to my TikTok account. Photos that looked suspiciously similar to Ava’s latest red carpet shots. Predictably, Twitter exploded with accusations of me copying her again. Ava scrolled through the comments, laughing. She showed her phone to Brenda. “Look at this, Bren. My sister’s agency is still pulling this crap. The comments are brutal.” I floated closer to look. Yep, my name was top three trending again. Honestly, A-list celebrities didn’t trend as often as I did. I should probably thank Ava; without the traffic she generated (even negative traffic), I wouldn’t have made enough to keep Dad in the hospital. My agency never let me disable comments, so I was used to the abuse. I could probably recite the most common insults by heart. Top comment: “Always chasing clout. She should just die already. So gross.” Nobody noticed the photos were obviously doctored. Nobody believed I could actually be innocent. Watching Ava cackle like a cartoon villain, completely unfazed by my actual death, my soul started to tremble, shivering with a cold rage. I remembered my last moments. My agency had forced me to do a livestream. “Leverage the buzz around Ava’s Oscar win,” they said. “Boost your engagement.” The second I hit ‘Go Live,’ the door burst open. A burly guy I didn’t recognize stormed in. He was holding a knife, yelling he was going to peel my skin off. Then I recognized the voice. It was chillingly familiar – the same voice from countless harassing calls, the DMs filled with threats. He was one of Ava’s hardcore fans. An obsessed stalker. I shook uncontrollably, scrambling away, trying desperately to dodge the knife. He grabbed me, his hand clamped around my neck, his face twisted with rage. I fought back, clawing at his hand. He slapped me hard across the face, then grabbed my hair and slammed my head against the floor. “You bitch! You deserve to die! Who gave you the right to copy Ava? To bully her? I’m gonna end you today!” Sobbing, I begged him to stop, pleaded that I’d never bullied Ava. I hadn’t just not bullied her; I’d poured my earnings into getting her roles, paying for her early projects. Before she made it big, I was the one bankrolling her climb, taking bit parts myself just to support her. But my words were choked off as he pinned me to the floor. In the struggle, a keychain fell from his pocket. The little charm attached – a custom design I recognized instantly. It was the one I gave Liam. He snarled, his teeth gritted. “Cut the crap. Ava told me all about you. You’re nothing but a lying, money-grubbing whore.” My heart plummeted. Of course. He came here intending to kill me. He was already convinced I was the villain in Ava’s story. Nothing I said would matter. Ava had painted me as the bad guy, stealing her clothes, her spotlight, even trying to steal her roles. Her fans already wanted me dead. And my own mother? She forbade me from defending myself publicly, worried it would hurt Ava’s “image.” The man slit my throat. As blood pulsed out, he started cutting away my skin. Right up until the end, nobody came to save me. That keychain… that key… did Liam give it to my killer? 4 I kept following Ava. Soon, her new movie came out. It was a hit. The hashtags flew. #MostBeautifulBack #AvaMillersStunningSilhouette Fans raved. “Ava is gorgeous! She really pushed herself for this role!” Even casual viewers were impressed. “I only ever saw her name in headlines, thought she was just famous for being famous. But wow, she can act. I misjudged her.” The accolades piled up for Ava. But nobody knew that the stunning back shot, the graceful dance sequence everyone was praising – that was me. The day they filmed that scene, it required hours in freezing cold water. Ava claimed she was on her period and couldn’t possibly do it. Then Mom called me. She said Ava wasn’t feeling well, couldn’t film. “You’re sisters,” she’d said. “Your backs look identical. Just help her out, what’s the big deal?” She conveniently forgot that I was still recovering from an injury I got during a stupid influencer challenge I’d done trying to earn extra cash. I hesitated for just a second. That was enough for Mom to launch into a tirade about how ungrateful and unsupportive I was. My chest ached. Why did Mom only see Ava’s “sacrifices” and never my struggles? Right after college, I had promising prospects. My professors offered introductions, connections. Acting was my dream – I wanted to create characters that moved people. But then Dad had the stroke. Mom begged me, tears streaming, not to pursue acting. “Go be an influencer, Zoe,” she’d cried. “It’s faster money. A movie takes months, even a year to film, and you don’t get paid until later. How will we survive?” Reluctantly, I signed with the influencer agency. I worked myself to the bone to support the family. I told myself, just hold on until Ava wins her Oscar, until her career is stable. Then, I could finally go back, pursue my own dream. Who knew I’d die before I even got the chance? As Ava’s fame soared with the movie’s success, someone online finally joked, “Ava’s been trending for ages. Where’s her copycat sister Zoe trying to cash in? Did something happen to her?” For a moment, my non-existent heart leaped. Maybe someone would finally realize I was actually gone. Right then, an anonymous account commented under Ava’s official post: “That back isn’t Ava Miller’s. It’s Zoe’s.” The comment section exploded. “Is that Zoe’s burner account? Trying to stir up drama again.” “OMG, just die already, you pathetic leech.” “Something happen to Zoe? Nah, trash like her lives forever. She’s probably hiding somewhere planning her next stunt. Evil lasts.” No matter how much the anonymous account owner insisted they weren’t me, nobody believed them. Amidst the sea of insults, Ava calmly made a phone call. Using her sweetest voice, she negotiated a price: three million dollars. To buy my TikTok account from my agency. Soon, hashtags like #ZoeAccidentallyLikesHateComment and #CloutChaserCaughtAgain started trending, proving to the world that I was still alive and causing trouble. So, it was true. My agency had been in cahoots with Ava all along. They probably celebrated the buyout, completely clueless that their cash cow was already dead.

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Yesterday, scrolling through my husband’s iCloud photos, I found the bed shots. Him and some woman. At that exact moment, he was downstairs playing the perfect dad, helping our son Leo with his online class. When the lesson ended, I heard him laying on the virtue thick: “Hey buddy, did you really listen to the teacher? That story was great, wasn’t it? It’s all about how a man needs to be loyal and dependable.” I snapped a picture of that touching scene and posted it online. My friends flooded the comments with praise for “Dad of the Year.” Including her. … Leo had back-to-back online classes. He hates them. If someone isn’t watching him like a hawk, he’ll either nod off or start tearing into his mystery toy boxes. Seeing Steve glued to Leo’s side in the study, I figured I had some free time. Put on a face mask, browsed Amazon a bit. Ding-dong. “DoorDash!” That’s weird, I thought. Our housekeeper, Maria, cooked today. I didn’t order anything. Not wanting to disturb the class, I rushed to the door. Took the bag from the delivery guy, mumbled thanks, and quietly shut the door. I ripped open the packaging right there in the hall and almost stormed into the study to start screaming. But seeing Leo actually concentrating stopped me. Staring back at me was a box of Plan B. Steve and I have been together for years, and he’s always the one who takes care of protection. Why the hell would he order Plan B and have it sent here? Did hitting the jackpot – marrying into money and finally making his own – go straight to his head? Does this guy, who clawed his way up from nothing, suddenly think he’s some kind of king? But wait, that made no sense either. I’m on my period right now. He knows that. Besides, we just talked about this. His company’s finally stable, my family actually respects him now, and I was ready to focus more on home. We decided we wanted to try for a second kid. So why would he buy me Plan B? Wouldn’t getting pregnant be a good thing according to our plan? Unless… the pill wasn’t meant for me. A cold shiver ran down my spine. Just then, Steve’s phone buzzed on the coffee table. Normally, I wouldn’t stoop to checking his phone. It’s pathetic. But instinct screamed at me, right now, you need to look. I typed in Leo’s birthday. The phone unlocked. A new text message glared up at me. Bright and blinding. “Where’s that Plan B you ordered?? Still hasn’t shown up. Guess I’ll just risk my body so you can get off!” My vision blurred. I bit my lip so hard it hurt. My eyes started to sting. Another message popped up. “Even if the pill doesn’t come, YOU better.” Short texts, but every word stabbed me. I stumbled back, grabbing the coffee table to steady myself. My stomach churned like I’d swallowed acid. So that’s it. He messed up the delivery address. Sent it home by mistake. This Plan B was supposed to be for cleaning up his mess tonight. With his mistress. I glanced towards the study, at the father and son focused on the screen. The rage burning inside me was enough to march in there and tear him a new one, humiliate him completely. But I had to weigh the consequences. Blowing up now… what would I gain? What would I lose? After a moment, I marked the texts as unread and tossed the phone back where I found it. 2 For years, people have looked at my life and thought I had it all, like luck just followed me around. But even if you’re lucky enough to be born rich, you still need the brains and guts to hold onto it. If I didn’t have my own skills, I’d just be another spoiled brat who blew through her inheritance. I wouldn’t have the life I have today. Staying calm under pressure – that’s rule number one for success. I took the box of Plan B upstairs, quietly. After hiding it under the bed, I logged into Steve’s iCloud account. He never really used it. I set it up for him ages ago when I forgot my own password and needed to save some files I bought on Amazon. I remembered clicking “auto-backup photos” back then. Once I logged in, tucked away in the backed-up photos, were pictures and videos you’d usually have to pay to see. Steve, oh Steve. I supported you all the way, helped you climb the ladder, turn your life around, and this is how you repay me? By making your own private porn collection? Honestly, the girl had a killer body. Flawless skin, curves in all the right places. Everything a guy could want. Even as a woman, I had to admire her dedication to fitness. But she had no damn business sprawling that meticulously maintained body all over my husband. When Leo finished his classes, Steve practically sprinted upstairs. He planted a quick kiss on my forehead, fidgeting. “Honey, honey, I’m so sorry He planted a quick kiss on my forehead, fidgeting. “Honey, honey, I’m so sorry, a client just called, a major client. Gotta run, emergency meeting.” I watched him throw on his most expensive suit, slicking his hair back with gel. Right then, he just seemed utterly disgusting. A greasy middle-aged man, losing his mind the second some young girl beckons. A typical scumbag who starts thinking with his dick the moment he gets a little money. How could I have shared a bed with this person for seven years? I flashed back to when that girl interviewed for a job at my company. I was leading the interview panel that day. Steve popped in for a minute while she was there, just to discuss some business stuff with me. She must have clocked him then, targeted him right from the start. Yes. I knew who the girl was. 3 About a year ago, our company was hiring livestream hosts. She applied. She made quite an impression, mostly because everything she wore was a knockoff, right down to the sliver of sock peeking out – a high-end fake of some luxury brand. My guess was, back then, she hadn’t landed a sugar daddy yet, someone dumb enough to buy her the real deal. Anyone decked out head-to-toe in fakes is obsessed with appearances, desperate to look richer than they are. During the interview, I asked her what her dream was. She was surprisingly honest. Without missing a beat, she said it was having guys – “whales,” she called them – shower her with virtual gifts, like rockets, during her streams. Then I asked her what the key to successful livestream selling was. Her answer? Get users to fall for her face and body first. Turn them into fans, get them hooked, and then they’ll blindly buy whatever she pushes. Needless to say, she didn’t get the job. I wouldn’t let someone with that kind of toxic mindset into my company. Later, she added me on social media, asking about the interview status. I politely turned her down. My friends list was huge, I hadn’t cleaned it up in ages, so she was still lurking there. After Leo was asleep, I curled up in bed and scrolled through her profile, post by post. She’d been very active this past year. Photos of thousand-dollar Kobe beef dinners, ten-thousand-dollar-a-night presidential suites, hundred-thousand-dollar limited-edition handbags – she had it all. And in every single one of these “look how rich I am” photos, there was her posing beautifully… and a man’s hand. Others might not recognize that hand, but I knew it instantly. It was the same hand that held mine as we walked down the aisle. Now, that hand was busy exploring another woman’s body, groping and grabbing. So, the Plan B got sent to the wrong address. But maybe showing up without protection was even better for his little plan? Memories flooded back. Me, screaming in agony in the delivery room. Him, kneeling on the floor for what felt like hours, praying. “God, please, keep my wife and child safe. I’ll go vegan, I’ll do good deeds for the rest of my life, just please…” Us, caught in a downpour while picking up inventory. Him, taking off his jacket to cover me, grabbing everything heavy, shouldering the whole load. Family gatherings. Him, constantly saying how lucky he was, how marrying me changed his life, how he owed everything to his wonderful wife. All those moments made me believe he was a good man, someone I could trust my life with. I never, ever imagined my husband would betray our family, betray me. Well, fine. If he had the balls to do it, I had the brains to make them both pay. Neither of them was getting off easy. 4 The next day, Steve dragged himself home, looking exhausted. Must have been quite the workout last night. A 40-year-old man trying to keep up with a girl barely out of her teens. No wonder he looked drained. He must have figured out the Plan B mix-up. He started beating around the bush, avoiding my eyes. “Honey, Maria’s dinner last night wasn’t great, was it? Maybe we should have just ordered takeout.” I wasn’t in the mood for games. I cut straight to what he really wanted to know. “Maria’s food was fine. Didn’t order anything yesterday, but some Plan B showed up. Must have been a wrong address. I told the delivery guy to take it back.” A flicker of awkwardness crossed Steve’s face, but he recovered quickly. Years in business had made him a master of damage control. He put on an exaggerated look of disgust. “Ugh, Plan B? Seriously? Some guys are so irresponsible. Just use protection, you know? That stuff is terrible for a woman’s body.” I changed the subject. “I’m taking Leo to his piano lesson soon, then meeting a friend. You look wiped out from that ‘client meeting.’ Why don’t you go upstairs and rest?” Without waiting for a reply, I went to change, grabbed Leo, and walked out the door. I really was meeting a friend. The only one who could help me with this. 5 My friend, Sarah, is a headhunter. I told her I needed to hire a new female livestream host – drop-dead gorgeous, amazing body. I mentioned I was willing to pay 50% above the going rate. Sarah dropped everything to meet me. Obviously. A higher salary meant a bigger commission for her. We spent the whole morning interviewing over a dozen candidates. They were pretty, sure, but they all looked the same. Same skinny frame, same sharp nose, same big eyes with heavy makeup. And the moment they opened their mouths, the shallowness poured out. I kept shaking my head, making little ‘tsk’ sounds. Sarah finally sighed. “Okay, boss lady, you gotta give me more specifics. What exactly are you looking for?” I snapped my fingers as if an idea just hit me. “Right! You know, that one girl you sent over before… uh… what was her name… Ashley? Yeah, Ashley. She might work. Can you try to get her back in here?” The whole point of the morning’s charade was to make Sarah believe I was genuinely recruiting, not targeting someone specific. Sarah’s sharp as a tack. If I’d just asked for Ashley outright, she’d smell a rat and start digging. And I couldn’t just call Ashley directly. The trap had to be set perfectly, following all the proper channels.

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For the tenth time, my fiancée got a call right before the wedding, and for the tenth time, she ran off with her childhood best friend. I stood alone at the altar, once again a complete laughingstock. Swallowing my pride, I tried to contact her, begging her to come back and finish the ceremony. But she wouldn’t even pick up her phone! Her so-called “friend,” Chad, smugly sent me a picture of the two of them in bed together, boasting, “I win!” My heart turned to ice. We’d planned this wedding ten times, and each time, it was postponed. The officiant looked at me with pity. “Do you… do you want to continue the ceremony?” I forced a smile. “Yes! We’re doing this!” I sent a text to my next-door neighbor, Sarah, and after getting her affirmative response, I breathed a sigh of relief and told the officiant to wait a few more minutes. This was my tenth attempt at getting married, and I wasn’t letting it fall apart again. Sarah arrived quickly, her confident and powerful presence immediately drawing attention. She strode towards the center of the stage, standing beside me, her smile sweet. “Changed your mind, huh, Ricky?” I nodded. It was just a marriage to appease the families, and anyone could fill the role. Besides… Grandma’s health couldn’t wait any longer. Her condition had been rapidly deteriorating for the past six months. Every time I visited her, she would murmur about wanting to see me married before she died. She was the closest person to me my entire life, and her only wish was to see me find someone I could rely on. That way, after she passed, I wouldn’t be alone and taken advantage of. Watching her grow weaker by the day, I couldn’t bear the thought of her leaving with that regret, so I started to take the whole marriage thing seriously. My fiancée, Tiffany, had promised me she’d marry me. But through ten weddings, she’d been a no-show every single time. Leaving me to be ridiculed across the entire city, again and again. And her excuses all involved her childhood best friend, Chad. Chad never had anything going on, except on my wedding days. Then he was either in a bad mood, having a depressive episode, or freaking out over a horror movie and needing someone to hold his hand. The most ridiculous one was when he impulsively decided he wanted to do a wedding photoshoot, and called Tiffany to be his stand-in bride. I wasn’t allowed to express the slightest bit of frustration with these ridiculous reasons. If I sent a text message asking questions, I would be met with a barrage of angry texts. “Ricky, can’t you be understanding for once? Chad is my best friend; he needs me right now. We can have the wedding any day! Stop being so petty, okay?” But ten times… ten times of abandonment and betrayal, finally exhausted my patience. This time, I wasn’t going to wait around. After finally letting go, I realized my heart didn’t hurt so much. Maybe I was just numb. Or maybe Grandma’s words gave me strength. “Our Ricky is such a good boy. I hope that after I’m gone, you find someone who loves you, someone who will protect you and won’t let you get hurt.” The image of Grandma’s wrinkled face flashed in my mind, giving me the courage I needed. I couldn’t let the people who loved me down. So I took Sarah’s hand, and together we walked down the aisle, her already changed into a wedding gown. I had to put on the best show possible, so that Grandma would be happy when she watched the recording. As we exchanged rings, my phone pinged. It was Tiffany. She hadn’t realized her mistake and was still talking to me like nothing had happened. [Ricky, be a dear and buy some pain relievers and bring them over. Don’t make me angry.] The address was for a well-known couple’s retreat on the coast. Then another ping. It was a picture of two people in bed. The sender was Chad. And my fiancée was one of the protagonists. [I win again!] More than the pain of being betrayed, I felt disgust. On my wedding day, my bride was at a romantic getaway with another man. I involuntarily clenched my fist, digging my nails into my palm. 2 Eventually, I went to the retreat. This relationship was over for me. I didn’t want to have anything to do with Tiffany after this. So, I wanted to break up with Tiffany in person, and to get the house keys back. After all, she was living in a house that I had paid for in full! When I arrived, Tiffany saw that I was empty-handed. Immediately, she blew up. “Ricky, what’s wrong with you? Where are the pain pills I asked for?” Chad sat on the edge of the bed, looking pathetic. “Tiffany, don’t be mad. Ricky’s been planning the wedding all day; he’s probably tired.” He knew that the bride had been called away by him, but he still managed to say it as if nothing had happened. Even though my heart was already shattered, being mocked like this still made it ache. My fingers slowly clenched, nearly drawing blood. Disappointed to this level, I didn’t even have the desire to be angry anymore. The room in the couple’s retreat was cramped and suggestive, almost suffocating me. Tiffany and I had been together since college. At first, she pursued me so passionately and intensely that I gradually fell for her. Once we were together, she remembered every little holiday and always had a gift or surprise. Even when I was being a jerk, she would always take the blame, patiently coaxing me. My friends always said how lucky I was to have such a great girlfriend. I thought the same thing, which is why I decided to marry her after graduation. But everything changed the day Tiffany’s childhood friend, Chad, came back to the States. After that, Tiffany’s heart was completely lost to an outsider. Between Chad and me, I was always the one left behind. Tiffany playfully ruffled Chad’s hair. “Aw, you’re the best.” Then she came closer to me, frowning at me in disapproval. “Why didn’t you answer my messages?” My repeated concessions had only led to Tiffany becoming more demanding. It was she who abandoned the wedding and me, yet she started by blaming me. I tried to calm myself, my voice cold. “I forgot.” Tiffany paused, seemingly shocked by my tone. I coldly looked up at Tiffany. “Tiffany, you’ve bailed again today.” Hearing this, a guilty expression flashed in her eyes, and she angrily tried to defend herself. “It wasn’t on purpose! Chad wasn’t feeling well, I couldn’t just leave him, could I?” “We can have the wedding another day, right? Ricky, stop being so unreasonable, okay?” She was clearly in the wrong, yet she was trying to put the blame on me. I didn’t want to argue anymore, and, suppressing my disgust, coldly uttered one sentence. “I don’t want to wait for you anymore. Let’s break up!” With that, I turned and walked away. “Ricky, what the hell did you just say?!” Tiffany yelled, immediately chasing after me. Just then, Chad “oohed” in pain. Then the sound of something shattering cut through the air. Confused, I stopped and turned around, and my eyes widened in shock. The shattered jade pendant on the ground was the one Grandma had gotten for me, praying for my safety, one step and one bow at a time! I was completely stunned, overwhelmed with anger. I pushed Tiffany aside and rushed over, carefully picking up the pieces of the pendant. “Why do you have my pendant?!” I stared at Chad, asking loudly. Tiffany came over, pouting in annoyance. “Ricky, what’s wrong with you? You’re scaring Chad.” I stared at Tiffany in disbelief. She knew how important this pendant was to me, but she could still say something like that. In an instant, a wave of helplessness washed over me. I dug my nails into my palms, drawing blood. It was always the same with Chad. I had to give in. But this time, it involved Grandma, and I wasn’t going to back down. I raised my hand and slapped Tiffany hard across the face. “If you’re blind, go to the doctor!” “He stole my grandma’s pendant without my permission, and he broke it! What right do you have to forgive him for me?” The room fell silent. No matter how angry I was, I had never raised a hand to her. Now it was Tiffany’s turn to be stunned. “You hit me? Ricky, I’m your fiancée, how dare you hit me?!” She lunged at me, grabbing my throat, squeezing so hard that I could barely breathe. She glared at me, her eyes filled with malice and hatred, as if she were looking at an enemy. I couldn’t help but wonder when the person who once looked at me with so much love had changed. I remembered when we weren’t even together yet, and I had posted a picture on social media of a cut less than two millimeters deep. Tiffany had waited outside my dorm at four in the morning, just to give me a box of bandages. Her eyes were bright and full of concern. It was at that moment that I was moved by her sincerity and agreed to date her. But only six months later, she was cursing at me for another man. Now I understood… That true love can change in an instant. 3 After completely losing all love for her, there was no point in arguing anymore. The sharp pain in my neck reminded me of how ridiculous my efforts had been. I just curled my lips into a self-deprecating smile. Chad peeked out from behind Tiffany. I unexpectedly met his eyes, which were full of mockery. My heart ached as if someone had stabbed it with a needle. The next second, his eyes turned red, and he said to me in a slightly resentful tone, “Ricky, don’t be mad. I just found the pendant, I was just going to return it to you.” He ruffled Tiffany’s hair. “Tiffany, don’t blame Ricky.” Tiffany calmed down and barely loosened her grip. “You’re the best, Chad.” “Ricky, can’t you be more like him?!” The pain of nearly suffocating made me tremble. Chad faked a comforting gesture, reaching out to me. “Ricky, will you forgive me?” His tone was almost flattering, but I clearly saw the challenge and ridicule in his eyes. As if he was saying arrogantly, “Yeah, I stole it and I broke it. What are you going to do about it?” I felt a chill and recoiled from his touch. Chad took the opportunity to scream and fall backward. “Ah!” He clutched his wrist, looking at me in terror. “Ricky, I just wanted to apologize…” I hadn’t even touched him, and I was already the villain who abused him. When Tiffany saw Chad fall, she immediately rushed to his side, helping him up, and then scolding me. “Ricky, didn’t you hear Chad say he found the pendant? Why are you taking it out on an innocent person?” I almost laughed at his words. I always cherished Grandma’s pendant. I kept it safely stored in a drawer in my bedroom. Found it? Did Chad somehow get into my house, then into my bedroom, and then found the pendant in my bedside table? I didn’t bother to expose his ridiculous lie, and sarcastically curled my lips. “Okay, I’ll call the police and have them investigate how Chad found my pendant!” “And I’ll hold you responsible for assaulting me today!” Chad panicked and immediately clutched his chest. “Tiffany, my heart hurts…” Hearing this, Tiffany didn’t care about anything anymore and helped Chad to the hospital. “Don’t worry, Chad, I won’t let anything happen to you!” As she passed by me, she glared at me with gritted teeth. “Ricky, you wait! If anything happens to Chad, I’m not letting you off the hook!” She intentionally bumped into my shoulder. Caught off guard, the force caused me to fall to the ground. But Tiffany didn’t even look at me, scoffing and leaving. 4 After they left, I was still sitting on the floor. That familiar face had become distorted, foreign, and terrifying. My throat became dry. Tears fell uncontrollably. Just as my emotions began to calm down, my phone rang. It was a call from the hospital. I answered without hesitation. Grandma’s condition had worsened, and she had been taken to the operating room. I didn’t care about anything, I staggered to my feet and ran out. I ran right into Sarah as I left the retreat. The girl had an aloof and refined air about her. She propped her hand on the car door, and her eyes lit up when she saw me. It was as if she had shown up just to wait for me. I didn’t have time to think about why she was here, so I got into the car and asked her to take me to the hospital. When I got to the hospital, Grandma had already been rescued by the doctors. I was relieved and stayed with her from the operating room to the ward. Because Sarah was with me, I decided to tell Grandma about our marriage to make her happy. Grandma looked through the pictures from our wedding on my phone album and smiled from the bottom of her heart. “Good, good! My Ricky has finally found a good woman!” Sarah sat nearby, answering whatever Grandma asked, very politely and without a hint of impatience. It wasn’t until the nurse reminded Grandma that it was time to rest that I got up and left with Sarah. Before leaving, Grandma whispered in my ear. “Sarah is a hundred times better than that Chad! I’m glad my grandson knows how to pick a wife!” My cheeks flushed red. I just mumbled a couple of words and fled the ward. Then I ran straight into Sarah. Sarah’s height was just below my chin, and the girl’s cool breath touched my skin. It made my heart skip a beat. “Did you hurt yourself?” I didn’t dare to look her in the eyes, so I asked dryly. “No…” Sarah seemed a little flustered, too. She took the payment slip from my hand to pay the bill, and my heart was still beating fast. I couldn’t help but accuse myself of being pathetic. I had only met her three times, and she was just my fake wife. How could I have feelings for her? I took a few deep breaths and finally calmed down. But I never expected to run into Tiffany and Chad as I was walking around the corner of the hallway! The two of them quickly separated when they saw me, and each of their faces flashed with a hint of guilt. I just glanced at them indifferently, without any emotional fluctuations, and wanted to leave. Tiffany quickly rushed over and grabbed my hand. “Ricky, it’s not what you think, don’t misunderstand!” I raised my eyes calmly. “You don’t need to explain to me, we’re not together anymore.” Perhaps unnerved by my gaze, Tiffany scratched her head in annoyance. “Tsk, is there any point in you saying these things? Chad wasn’t feeling well, so I hugged him to comfort him.” As she said this, she leaned closer to my ear and said in a voice that only the two of us could hear: “I promise you, we’ll have the wedding next week, okay?” “But Chad isn’t feeling well, I’m afraid he’ll be upset, so don’t tell him for now.” I couldn’t help but chuckle. If even a wedding had to be kept a secret, what was the point? I curled my lips into a cold smile, shaking my head: “No need.” I’m already married. I didn’t say the last half of the sentence. Because the woman in front of me wasn’t worth me wasting any more effort on. But my cold attitude made Tiffany anxious. She stopped me from leaving, her tone aggressive: “What do you mean, no need?” “Ricky, haven’t you always said you wanted to have a wedding and get married? Why no need?” The next second, a cool and familiar fruity scent enveloped me again. Sarah wrapped her arm around my arm, declaring her claim. “Because we’re already married!” “He’s mine now, some trash better leave!”

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