Category: English

They always say the childhood best friend can never beat the new girl. Not long after she transferred to our school, I saw it happen in the empty stairwell of the science building. My arrogant, untamable childhood friend, Caleb Vance, was standing there with his head bowed like a scolded puppy, apologizing to her for his mistakes. Later, I had a minor disagreement with her. He just casually tossed out a single sentence: “I don’t want to see Lily at school anymore.” Terrified of offending the wealthy Vance family, my parents immediately transferred me to another district. From that day on, it was as if I had completely vanished from his world. I didn’t dare show my face around him. But later, on his birthday, he knocked on my apartment door, completely soaked from the rain. He looked pathetic, his face full of grievance as he asked: “Did you forget it’s my birthday today?” 01 They say the girl next door can’t beat the new girl. I used to scoff at that idea. But when I sat in the school auditorium, watching Caleb look up at Chloe Adams dancing gracefully on stage, I saw the undeniable, unfiltered adoration in his eyes. At that exact moment, I believed it. I also finally believed the rumors going around—that Caleb, the bad boy who didn’t respect anyone or anything, had softened his edges for Chloe in an empty stairwell. The feelings I had buried in my heart, the confession I never got to make, would just have to stay buried forever. When the song ended, I joined the crowd in applauding the shining girl on stage. Caleb got up from his seat, probably to go find Chloe. I stood up and left the auditorium, too. Walking outside, I raised my hand. A small, woven friendship bracelet dangled from my fingers, swaying in the wind. “Lily… here… for you.” I had looked at him, confused. “What is this?” Seven-year-old Caleb had been watching soap operas with his aunt and learned about something called a “promise token.” “It’s for Lily. From now on, Lily can only like me.” “I’ll protect Lily forever.” My eyes stung a little. I took the bracelet off and gripped it in my palm. You shouldn’t take the words of a child seriously. But I did. The fearless little tyrant, Caleb Vance, was the biggest joy and the deepest secret of my entire youth. … Chloe transferred here this semester. She was gorgeous and a competitive dancer. Her arrival caused an instant stir. The girls in my class whispered that Chloe was like the female lead in a young adult novel—the sweet, perfect girl who catches the eye of the untouchable bad boy. And then the bad boy bends all his rules just for her. A lot of guys chased after Chloe back then. Someone even joked that the only one missing was Caleb himself. Caleb had lazily stretched his arms, glancing at the guy who said it. “Does she even deserve my time?” See? He talked so big back then. Before, I refused to believe Caleb and Chloe were a thing because I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, nor had he told me himself that he was with someone else. But now, I knew. It was time to reel in my feelings and keep my distance. I used to walk home with Caleb every day. I couldn’t even remember when it started, but eventually, he began making up excuses to make me walk home alone. Honestly, he could have just told me. I wouldn’t have clung to him. After all, we were never actually together. 02 When we got back to school on Monday, it was time to collect the weekend homework before study hall. Caleb was the ultimate rebel. He just stared at the class rep and said, “Didn’t do it.” He used to listen to me. The whole class knew it, too. So whenever this happened, they’d come running to me to complain. It was the same this time, except they couldn’t even find him. Because the second the bell rang, he was out the door looking for Chloe. “Lily, Caleb didn’t do his homework again, and we have no idea where he went. Could you…” “Just turn the stack in to the teacher,” I said, shaking my head with a smile. “If he doesn’t do his homework from now on, you don’t need to tell me.” Hearing me say that, they just nodded. It seemed the rumors about Caleb’s new girlfriend were entirely true. My attitude only confirmed it for them. When study hall started, I kept my head down, working on my AP Calculus practice tests. Before Chloe showed up, I wanted Caleb to get into Columbia University with me. Now, I only wanted to work hard enough to get into Columbia on my own and chase my own dreams. Caleb didn’t come back for the entire period. The teacher frowned from the podium, asking where he was. The whole class looked at me, but I never once lifted my head. During the second period, Caleb finally strolled in from outside. He sat at his desk without a word, staring into space until a classmate told him the principal wanted to see him. He snapped out of it. As he walked past my desk, he paused for a second. I didn’t look up. I was calculating the final problem on my test. Every time I hit the last question, I could only solve the first part before my brain froze. By the time I finally solved it, my desk-mate leaned over cautiously. “What’s going on with you and Caleb?” “Nothing.” “Seriously? But you used to get more anxious than anyone else when he skipped study hall or didn’t do his work.” She looked entirely unconvinced. I spaced out for a second, then told her, “That was in the past. I’m not going to manage him anymore.” “Oh.” She covered her mouth in shock. “So… Caleb really is dating Chloe?” I lowered my eyes and stayed silent. It wasn’t until after the bell rang for the second study hall that Caleb slowly wandered back into the room. A moment later, a folded piece of paper landed on my desk. Leave first after school. I read the note, my expression flat, put it away, and went back to my test. The classroom was always loud and chaotic right after the final bell. I sat at my desk, packing my bag. Suddenly, the room went dead silent. My desk-mate gasped, and I followed her gaze. Chloe was standing in the doorway. She tilted her head slightly, curled her finger at Caleb, and turned to walk away. I couldn’t control my eyes as they darted to Caleb. He gave a helpless, fond little smile, grabbed his bag, and followed her out. The classroom instantly erupted into whispers. “Holy crap, it’s actually true.” “I used to think Caleb and Lily were end-game. The bad boy and the straight-A good girl. But a bad boy and a dancer? Kind of a better aesthetic.” “Don’t be a sheep. Am I the only one who feels bad for Lily?” “They practically grew up together.” “Like I said, the girl next door never beats the new girl.” … My desk-mate pressed her lips together, trying to figure out how to comfort me. I threw my backpack over my shoulder. My heart felt like it was dying, aching so badly I could hardly breathe. But I forced a smile. I couldn’t cry. If I let anyone see how broken I was, I’d become the school’s running joke by tomorrow. “I’m fine. Caleb and I have only ever been friends. I’m heading out. See you tomorrow.” She still looked worried but waved back. “See you. Be safe on the way home.” Stepping out of the noisy school building, I gripped my backpack straps so hard my knuckles turned white, clenching my jaw. But the tears fell anyway. My chest felt impossibly tight. How did he just suddenly fall for someone else? My vision blurred, but the arrogant, bright voice of the boy from my memories kept echoing in my ears. “I can do anything. And Lily Evans is the girl I’m going to protect for the rest of my life.” 03 “Lily, why didn’t you wait for me this morning?” Caleb had shown up late again. After class, he walked over, sounding aggrieved, and slammed a carton of milk on my desk. My hand, which had been writing down vocabulary words, paused. I glanced at the milk from the corner of my eye. “I already ate breakfast. And from now on, I won’t be walking with you in the mornings. I need to get to school early.” Caleb sat in the empty chair next to mine, looking completely lost. He propped his chin on his hand. “I haven’t messed with you recently, have I? Didn’t we always walk together?” “Things are different now.” I put my pen down, took a deep breath, and gave him a polite smile. “You have a girlfriend. We should keep our distance.” His expression froze for a second before he processed it. “She won’t mind. She knows…” “I mind.” I looked him dead in the eye. “I don’t want to become the target if the two of you ever have relationship problems.” “Lily…” Caleb had a terrible temper and zero patience. After saying that much, his patience was officially gone. His face went ice-cold. He stood up abruptly. The chair scraped harshly against the floor, making a horrible screech. He dropped one last sentence: “Suit yourself.” I lowered my head and silently closed my eyes. I had sat on my balcony all night yesterday, letting the cold wind hit me, wondering if I should just keep playing the fool, hiding my feelings, and staying by his side. But the bond we grew up with had to end here. They say you can’t hide the look in your eyes when you love someone. If I kept following him around, it wouldn’t be fair to me, or to Chloe. No girlfriend wants an overly intimate female best friend hovering around her boyfriend. After that day, Caleb never initiated a conversation with me again. Even when we passed each other in the hallways, he looked right through me. The girl standing next to him went from being me to being Chloe. He introduced her to everyone in his inner circle. Chloe was his first love, the girl he was completely infatuated with. I studied quietly, listening to their epic romance through the grapevine, just like everyone else. Because Chloe practiced dance so hard, she would get stomach cramps late at night. The next day, Caleb would bring her special, low-fat dinners prepared by his family’s personal chef. A varsity athlete from a rival high school had a crush on Chloe. A few days ago, he cornered her in an alley after school. Rumor has it Caleb beat him half to death. In this month’s mock exams, I took back the number one spot in the grade. My teacher had once warned me not to manage Caleb anymore, saying it would only drag my grades down. Caleb’s family was filthy rich. Whether he got good grades or not meant absolutely nothing to his future. After school, I rested my chin on my hand, looking out the window at the brilliant sunset. “Lily, where do you want to go for college?” One hot summer evening, Caleb had sat next to me, casually twirling a strand of my hair around his long fingers, asking me out of the blue. I answered without hesitation: “Columbia.” “That’s so far away.” Truthfully, I never told him why. I wanted to go to Columbia not just because it was an Ivy League school, but because I wanted to escape this city. I wanted to escape my family. My dad was like a lot of men. Once he got rich, his heart wandered. My mom refused to get a divorce. She believed it was her fault for not giving him a son, which was why he messed around with other women. In the dead of night, she would point a shaking finger at me and scream, crying over why I wasn’t a boy. If I were a boy, Dad wouldn’t have cheated. Later on, she finally did give birth to a son. My dad briefly returned to the family, but my mom poured every ounce of her soul into my little brother. To her, she finally had someone to rely on—a son to take care of her when she grew old. “Hmm… then I guess I’ll just have to get into Columbia too. You’re so clueless. Without me there to protect you, you’d get eaten alive.” The boy bragging in front of me had been the only light in my shattered life. I wanted to hold onto that light with everything I had. So I was willing to waste all my time on him, even if I couldn’t make it to Columbia, as long as we ended up at the same school. 04 A rumor that Chloe was the “other woman” started spreading like wildfire across the school. When my desk-mate and I came back from the bathroom, Chloe ran past me, covering her mouth and sobbing. Caleb came charging down the hall in the opposite direction. He grabbed me by the throat, looking like he wanted to kill me. “Lily, didn’t you say you were going to stay the hell away from me?! What kind of stunt are you pulling now?!” I couldn’t breathe. My desk-mate panicked and tried to shove him off me. “Are you crazy?! Lily and I just got back from the bathroom! Let her go, she can’t breathe!” Caleb yanked his hand back like he’d been burned. I gasped for air, collapsing against the lockers. “You make me sick, Lily.” “Lily, are you okay?” I crouched on the floor, coughing violently, tears spilling out of my eyes. Mia Brooks hugged me, gently patting my back. “It’s okay, Lily. Caleb and that girlfriend of his have lost their damn minds.” I wiped my eyes, biting my lip so hard to keep from crying out loud. The sheer hatred in Caleb’s eyes just now… I didn’t even recognize him. It felt like he really wanted to choke the life out of me. The boy from my memories was gone. Completely gone. Later, a classmate carefully slid her phone under the desk to show me. Someone had posted an anonymous confession on the school’s gossip app, accusing Chloe of being a homewrecker who ruined my relationship with Caleb. A lot of people believed it. The comments underneath were tearing Chloe apart, using the ugliest words imaginable. The bruises on my neck had turned red. I thought to myself, When I get home tonight, I’ll post a clarification to clear her name. But before I could even write the post, I walked through my front door to find my parents sitting on the couch, their faces dark with fury. They had clearly been waiting for me. A terrible feeling settled in my gut. A glass suddenly shattered against the floor right next to my feet. “What the hell did you do at school to piss off Caleb Vance?!” My dad slammed his hand on the coffee table, his eyes practically bulging out. “Do you have any idea that our company only survives because of the Vance family?! Are you trying to ruin your own father?!” I stood there, listening to my mom call me a worthless waste of money, while my dad demanded I go apologize to Caleb. The cold, massive house felt freezing. I was shivering, cold down to my bones. I don’t know—and I can’t remember—how that interrogation ended, or how I was physically dragged over to apologize to him. I actually wanted to tell him that I didn’t write that post, but that I would clear things up for him. But when the door opened, he looked down at me from above, his eyes as cold as ice. The words died in my throat. I lowered my head. I bowed. I apologized. He just looked at me blankly, leaning against the doorframe. “I never want to see you at school again, Lily.” My parents bowed and scraped, promising over and over that they would never let me appear in front of him again. I looked up at him mechanically. Under the harsh white porch light, I couldn’t seem to read his expression anymore. I couldn’t even clearly see his face. In that moment, my pride was utterly trampled into the dirt. It was then I realized that he and I were never from the same world. We were never on equal footing. The moon never lowers itself just because people wish for it. The moon you see at the bottom of a well is just a reflection, a total illusion. And all the kindness that rich boy had shown me in the past was just a fleeting whim of youth. I shouldn’t have fantasized about anything. From the very beginning, I was wrong. That night, I packed my bags. My parents made some calls and transferred me. 05 It had been almost two weeks since I transferred to Westside High. I rented a small apartment near the school. My parents were so terrified of Caleb seeing me and getting angry that they just told me not to come home anymore. East side, West side. Even though we were in the same city, unless we went out of our way, we would never run into each other. “Hey, Lily. Come watch me play basketball today.” The guy talking to me was wearing a black-and-white jersey, his sharp, slightly upturned eyes full of amusement. When I first transferred, the girls in my class warned me: “That’s Asher Reed. Famous for being ridiculously handsome and a massive player.” The other students around us pretended to do their own thing, but kept throwing side-glances our way. They said this was the first time Asher had actually chased a girl for this long. At seventeen, people always romanticized the idea of a high school love story happening right in front of them. They said the player was turning over a new leaf. But a reformed player is still dirty. I gently shook my head. “I’m not going. I have AP Calculus to finish.” He glanced at the textbook on my desk and raised an eyebrow. “Lily, do you realize I’ve been chasing you for two weeks?” “And?” He chuckled. “And so, why do you keep rejecting me?” By then, the classroom had mostly emptied out. The sun was setting outside, painting half the sky in brilliant shades of orange. I suddenly remembered a quote I’d read once: The evening breeze is free, the sunset is free, and I am entirely unique. “Lily, do you know you give off this really contradictory vibe?” The sound of a referee’s whistle blew from the basketball courts, slicing through the quiet afternoon. I looked at him. He smirked. “It’s like this vibe of being completely dead inside, mixed with a weird, ruthless determination.” “Which just makes me more interested.” I gave him a cold look and kindly reminded him, “Your game started.” “We’re playing Eastside High today.” His voice was raspy, dropping a hint that he knew exactly where I came from. No one else was around. I looked back down at my test. Finding my reaction boring, he clicked his tongue and walked away. Once he was gone, I looked up at the silent clock on the wall. I had a pretty good idea who wrote that anonymous post about Chloe. But what good did it do me to expose it now? Westside High wasn’t like Eastside. Every day at 6:30 PM, the classrooms automatically shut off the power to save electricity. When the lights went out, only the fading sunset illuminated the room. I packed up my books and walked downstairs. A gentle evening breeze blew cherry blossom petals off the trees, scattering them across the ground before carrying them away. I stood there, blinking quietly at the sight. Looking back at my short seventeen years of life, it felt exactly like those cherry blossoms—helpless, blown away by forces completely out of my control. “Wait, is that Lily?” The voice snapped me out of my thoughts just as I was about to walk away. Two familiar faces blocked my path, looking shocked to see me here. When I used to hang around Caleb, I got to know his friends. We used to get along fine. Both of them were holding sports drinks; they must have just come from the vending machines. “Lily, you really transferred here?” I looked at him, not entirely sure what he meant by “really,” but I nodded anyway. The guy with the slicked-back hair nudged his friend and said, “Lily, you and Caleb grew up together. He happens to be here today. Why don’t you take this chance to clear up the misunderstanding?” Everyone else knew I wasn’t the kind of person to do something like that. Yet Caleb, the boy who grew up with me, was the only one entirely convinced I did. “I didn’t…” Before I could finish, a cold voice cut in from a distance: “Does it take this long to buy a Gatorade? Or are you just standing around talking to irrelevant people?” He stood a few yards away, his eyes dark and hostile as they swept over me, looking at me like I was a total stranger. Hearing that, the two guys looked at me awkwardly. I just smiled. “I’m heading out. See you.” “Yeah, see you.” 06 Life at Westside was quiet. Time moved slowly. Sometimes I’d get stuck in my own head, wondering why nobody loved me. I was brilliant. My name was permanently glued to the top of the honor roll. When I was little, my mom told me everyone loves the smart kid. But when I grew up, I realized only teachers love the smart kid. My parents didn’t. I studied in total silence, waiting for the next exam, waiting for the SATs, waiting for nobody. My grades were an unstoppable force. I took first place in the state-wide mock exams. Standing on the high podium, the warm summer breeze blew through my hair and ruffled my uniform jacket. I looked down at the sea of students in their identical blue and white uniforms. Their eyes held envy and admiration. The principal stood at the microphone, using every impressive adjective in the dictionary to describe me. The ivy vines outside the window kept climbing. The cicadas grew louder. The sunsets grew redder. The sound of students reciting flashcards in the senior hallways grew deafening. Everyone wished they could hit pause on time, slow it down just a little bit more. I never saw Caleb again. It was like my ties to all my old friends were completely severed. I suppose they were always Caleb’s friends, not mine. When summer break started, I didn’t go back to that house. My family lived too close to the Vance estate. The day I transferred to Westside, the only thing my parents told me was: Don’t let Caleb see you. If you see him, walk the other way. I was seventeen this year. Next semester, I’d be a senior. My parents never once wondered if I was anxious about senior year. They never asked. Under the dim yellow streetlights, I sat on a bench, reciting English essays from memory. It didn’t matter. Every formula I memorized, every vocab word I learned, every practice test I took—they were all going to carry me out of this place. They were going to carry me toward a better, brighter future. People walked past me in the street. Nobody stopped for anyone. … When I walked out of the public library that afternoon, my phone rang. I answered it, but there was only silence on the other end. I frowned at the screen. Unknown number. I hesitantly asked, “Hello?” Still nothing. I hung up without a second thought. “Lily!” Asher ran out of the sports complex across the street, waving at me. He jogged over. “Wanna grab food?” I hugged my books to my chest, glancing at his friends in the background who were clearly shoving each other and laughing. “I’m just going to grab takeout and head home. You should eat with your friends.” “Come on, eating takeout every day is terrible for you. I’m taking you to a real dinner.” Before I could protest, Asher was dragging me down the street. He took me to a high-end French restaurant. Everyone inside was wearing tailored suits or elegant dresses. Even the waiters were in formal wear. Then there was me and Asher. I was wearing an oversized white T-shirt and denim shorts; he was wearing his red-and-white basketball jersey. We looked completely out of place. I quickly tried to stop him. “Are you sure about this? We can’t go in looking like this.” He blinked at me, genuinely confused. “Isn’t it just a place to eat?” Hearing his totally unapologetic logic, I realized he was kind of right. Before I could make up my mind, a waiter walked over. He looked at our outfits, smiled professionally, and asked, “Table for two?” “Yep,” Asher nodded. “Right this way, please.” The waiter smiled and led us inside. He walked us straight to a booth by the window. He asked, “Would you like to enjoy the view?” Asher nudged his chin at me. I checked the time; it was past six. The sunset should be out. I gave a small nod. The waiter smiled. “Certainly.” He pressed a button somewhere, and the tinted glass instantly cleared, letting a flood of warm, golden hour light spill over the table. My jaw dropped a little. It was incredible. When I snapped out of it, the waiter was gone. Asher handed me a menu. “What do you want to eat?” The prices were insane. I hesitated. Asher laughed. “Scared of bankrupting me?” Half of his face was bathed in the sunlight, the golden rays making his eyes sparkle. I told the truth: “Everything is really expensive.” “Relax. I can afford it. Order whatever you want.” I pushed the menu back to him. “You order. I’m not picky.” He took it back, teasing, “Not bad. Easy to keep fed.” “How do you like your steak cooked?” “I don’t like it raw.” He thought about it. “If it’s too well-done, it’ll be tough. Medium-well?” “Sure.” After ordering, I pointed at myself. “Guess what I feel like right now?” He took a sip of water, the corner of his mouth curving up. “What?” “Like a peasant who wandered into a royal palace.” He burst out laughing. When Asher laughed, he had two shallow dimples. It was bright and warm. Looking at him, I suddenly thought of Caleb again. I actually hadn’t thought about him in a long time. Caleb had a dimple when he smiled, too. He just didn’t smile much. Most of the time, he only gave a faint smirk. I used to poke the spot where his dimple was and say, “You should smile more. You look good when you smile.” When Chloe transferred, he started smiling a lot more. Sometimes it was a sweet smile, sometimes a fond one. Looking back, that was the universal truth of it all: He just didn’t like smiling at me. The dinner started when the sunset was at its peak and ended when the sky outside had gone completely dark. By the time we walked out, the plaza was packed with people. “Lily, I had a really good time today.” I looked up at him. He was looking down at me, smiling. “Today’s my birthday.” “What?!” I stared at him in shock. “If it’s your birthday, I should have been the one buying! Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” He sighed, faking a tragic look. “I was afraid if I told you, you wouldn’t come eat with me.” “I wouldn’t have done that,” I said. After a minute, I started thinking about what I could buy him as a gift. Suddenly, I felt warm breath brush against my cheek. He had leaned in close, his voice raspy as he asked: “Thinking about what to get me?” He had dyed his hair bleach blonde two days ago, which earned him a public reprimand on the school bulletin board. The wind blew through his hair, making him look like a golden retriever. “I want that scent pouch. The little sachet.” A while back, he’d come looking for me. As I was packing up, a small, hand-embroidered sachet fell out of my bag. He had picked it up, swung it around by its string, and asked, “Can I have this? Please, Lily?” I turned him down back then. Because I originally made that sachet for Caleb’s birthday. I had stitched the patterns onto it by hand, needle by needle. Even though I was never going to give it to Caleb now, it didn’t feel right to give it to Asher. It felt like I was giving him someone else’s trash. I nodded seriously. “Okay. But you have to wait a few days. I’ll make a brand new one just for you.” On the walk back to my apartment, Asher asked me for the first time: “Lily, where do you want to go for college?” I looked up at the sparse stars in the sky. “Columbia.” “Why?” “Because…” “Because I hate it here. It never snows in this city. I want to see the snow.” Asher kept his head down, deep in thought, and just nodded. We slowly walked up to the front of my apartment building. He said, “Go on up. Bye.” I took a few steps, then turned back to look at him. The boy in the basketball jersey was standing in the shadows, a faint smile on his lips, his eyes slightly dim. My heart fluttered for a second. I waved at him. “Happy birthday, Asher.” Hearing that, he raised his hand and waved back, laughing. “You’re definitely going to Columbia, Lily.”

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During the divorce, Mom fought for custody of my older sister. Dad fought for my younger brother. I was the middle child. Nobody fought for me. They all thought I was a lost cause, but as it turned out, I was the one with the real drive. After graduation, my sister barely got into community college, and my brother dropped out entirely. I ended up as the state valedictorian with a perfect SAT score. Suddenly, Dad and Mom were practically throwing punches trying to claim me. I brushed their hands off my arms and pulled two legal documents out of my backpack. “A kid who’s been thrown away once doesn’t exactly have a high sense of security,” I said coldly. “How about this—” “Whichever one of you is willing to sign this irrevocable will, leaving every single dime you have to me, gets to be the proud parent of the valedictorian.” 01 My dad was a cop, and my mom was a trauma surgeon. To outsiders, they were two successful professionals with glamorous, respectable careers. But to me, they were just eternally busy. It got worse after the divorce. Every time I asked Mom for lunch money or cash for school fees, she was always rushing out the door. “I’m on my way to save a life,” she’d snap. “Call your father.” But when I called Dad, he sounded just as exhausted. “I’m in the middle of a manhunt,” he’d say. “Go find your mother.” They played this game of hot potato, each convincing themselves the other had already taken care of me. In reality, I was always hungry. When things were really tight, I’d buy two dollar-menu breakfast burritos in the morning. That had to last me the entire day. When my stomach cramped from the hunger, I’d put my head down on my desk and tell myself to just hang on a little longer. At lunch, when my classmates went to the cafeteria or out for fast food, I always told them I wasn’t hungry. Truth was, I just didn’t have a cent to my name. Of course, sometimes I got lucky. My parents would suddenly remember they had a second daughter at the exact same time, and both would Venmo me money. But that kind of “luck” followed no logic or schedule. The hunger was my only constant companion. Once, after going three days without a single real meal, the world started turning black around the edges. I called Dad. I called Mom. They both ignored the calls, sending back texts about being “busy.” At that moment, I understood everything completely. In this world, cash is more reliable than love. Love can vanish. It can be ignored. It can be forgotten. But money holds its value. From that day on, I wanted money. Lots and lots of money. Enough to buy all the food in the world. Because if I had that, I would never have to be hungry again. 02 There was one day left before the deadline to pay the dues for senior graduation events and AP exam fees. I still couldn’t get ahold of my parents for the money. Their automatic reply was always that they were too busy. But then, my sister and brother updated their Instagram stories. Chloe, my older sister, posted a photo. She was twirling in a brand-new dress, beaming at the camera. Mom was standing right next to her, a gentle hand on Chloe’s shoulder. They looked identical—both beautiful, elegant, and perfectly composed. The caption read: 【Thanks for the early graduation gift, Mom! Love you mean it~】 Then, Dylan, my younger brother, updated his story. He was on a basketball court, mid-shot, with Dad right beside him correcting his form. Both of them were wearing matching, brand-new varsity-style Jordan tracksuits. The caption read: 【Dad said I needed to blow off some steam before finals. No pressure.】 I stared at those photos for a long, long time. They weren’t busy. They were just busy for me, their discarded daughter. A familiar bitterness spread through my chest, thick as bile. I should have known by now. I was the leftover piece of the puzzle. The one that didn’t fit. It was just like the day they settled the divorce. In the mediator’s office, when the question of custody came up. Mom didn’t hesitate. “I want Chloe,” she said. She looked at my sister, her eyes brimming with maternal pride. “She’s responsible, she listens, and her personality is just like mine. She’s going to go far.” Dad was just as quick to speak up. “I’m definitely taking Dylan.” He slapped my brother on the shoulder, his face lighting up with anticipation. “This kid is a natural athlete. He’s going to follow in my footsteps, maybe even go pro, or at least join the force.” The mediator glanced down at the case file, frowning. “There’s a third child. Jordan.” My parents both froze. “Oh. Right. Jordan.” Then, the hot potato game began again. “I’ve already got one,” Mom said, her voice turning sharp. “I can’t afford two on my schedule.” “She carries your family name, Miller,” Dad retorted. “She should be with you.” “Jordan is a girl. She needs her mother.” “My shifts are chaotic at the hospital. I can’t be leaving the OR to deal with a teenager…” I sat in the corner, watching them fight over who didn’t have to take me. Finally, I broke the stalemate. “I can live by myself,” I said. “Just send me child support.” And that was that. I started my life alone, in a small studio apartment, never quite eating enough. I watched the school group chat notifications blow up. Screenshot after screenshot of paid fees. I was the only one left. The homeroom teacher private messaged me, reminding me that if the dues weren’t paid by tomorrow, I wouldn’t walk at graduation or get my AP scores. I read the message, biting my lip hard, trying to ignore the dull ache in my stomach. I had only eaten a single dollar burrito today because my bank account balance was currently negative. But I couldn’t worry about hunger right now. This wasn’t just about food. This was about my future. If I couldn’t even take my AP exams or graduate properly, I was trapped. I’d be stuck in this cycle of poverty forever. I had to get that money. Since they wouldn’t answer my calls or texts, I had to go find them. Mom’s apartment was the closest to the school. I decided to start there. 03 Standing before that familiar yet foreign door, I took a deep breath. My fingers trembled as I pressed the doorbell. The door swung open almost immediately. Chloe stood there. When she saw it was me, an expression of utter annoyance washed over her face. She turned her back on me and yelled toward the kitchen. “Mom! Jordan’s here.” Her tone was thick with disgust. She stood blocking the doorway, making no move to let me in. From the kitchen came the clatter of pots and pans. Mom was busy. “Oh. Well, let her in, then.” Only then did Chloe reluctantly step aside, leaving just enough gap for me to squeeze through. I walked into the living room. Chloe had already stretched back out on the L-shaped sectional, taking up nearly the entire couch. I could only sit awkwardly on a hard wooden accent stool in the corner. I felt like an unwelcome panhandler. A few minutes later, Mom emerged from the kitchen carrying a small bowl. A delicate, fragrant steam rose from it. It was some kind of high-end herbal soup. My ravenous stomach immediately began to growl. “Chloe, honey, I made you some ginseng and chicken soup.” “I let it simmer for three hours. It’s perfect for restorative energy.” “You’ve been studying so hard, you need to drink this while it’s hot.” Chloe took the bowl, smelling the aroma. “Mom, you just finished a twelve-hour shift. You shouldn’t be cooking for me. You should have this.” “Don’t be silly. Mom doesn’t need it. You’re my precious baby girl. Anything I do for you is worth it.” The two of them began a playful back-and-forth about who should drink the soup. In the end, they shared it, smiling affectionately at each other. One spoonful for Mom, one for Chloe. It was a perfectly heartwarming scene of maternal love. And I sat there like an invisible ghost, three feet away, watching this touching family drama. I glanced at my phone. The deadline was looming. “Mom,” I started, my voice cracking slightly. “The deadline for graduation dues and AP fees is tomorrow. Can you transfer me the money?” The moment the words left my mouth, the loving smile vanished from Mom’s face. The warmth was instantly replaced by irritation and icy disgust. “Look at you. Every time you come here, it’s always for money. You’re like a collection agent.” “Besides money, is there anything else in that brain of yours?” Chloe chimed in from the couch. “Seriously, Jordan. Do you have to be so materialistic?” “Mom works so hard, and all you know how to do is hold out your hand.” My fists clenched slowly, my fingernails digging into my palms. “I’m asking for school fees, not pocket money for a shopping spree,” I said, keeping my voice level. “This is mandatory.” “And besides, it’s your legal obligation to support me.” “Obligation?” Mom let out a cold, sharp laugh. “I’ve raised you this long. What value have you ever provided to me?” “All you know how to do is spend money. You’re utterly useless.” “A couple hundred bucks for school fees isn’t money to you? Do you think my cash grows on trees?” Hearing those words felt like a physical blow to my heart. I slowly stood up. My eyes fell on the exquisite white ceramic soup bowl on the table. There was still half a bowl of that ginseng soup left. I had walked past a high-end health food store a few days ago and saw the price tag on quality ginseng. Hundreds of dollars. That single bowl of soup probably cost more than my entire school dues. She was willing to spend hundreds to give Chloe an energy boost. But she wouldn’t spend a dime to make sure I could graduate. And she dared to talk to me about cash not “growing on trees”? What a sick joke. All the humiliation and grief I’d packed away for years exploded in that single second. I reached out and grabbed the soup bowl. “Jordan, what do you think you’re doing?” I didn’t answer. I slammed the bowl down onto the hardwood floor. The sound of ceramic shattering exploded in the quiet apartment. The broth splashed everywhere. “Have you lost your mind?” Mom’s eyes widened, staring at me in disbelief. Slap! A resounding blow landed across my left cheek. A burning stinging sensation immediately radiated across my face. But I didn’t step back. Instead, I looked her straight in the eye. “Give me the school money.” “You ungrateful little bitch!” Mom was shaking with rage. “Over some stupid school fees, you dare to act like an animal in my house?” I repeated, “I need the school money.” She was utterly enraged by my attitude. Her hand trembling, she grabbed her phone. Ding. The notification for a Venmo transfer sounded on my phone. She threw the phone onto the sectional. “Take the money and get out. Don’t waste Chloe’s study time.” I checked the Venmo transfer amount. It was exactly half. A hundred and some change. “Why is it only half?” Mom smirked coldly. “I’m divorced, Jordan, not widowed. The mediation agreement was very clear. Your expenses are split fifty-fifty between me and your father.” “You want the other half? Go find him.” With that, she pointed to the door. “Get out.” The broken shards of the ceramic bowl glistened coldly on the floor under the lights. They looked exactly how I felt inside. Cold. Broken. Chloe sat on the sectional, watching the whole thing with total indifference. There was even the faint hint of a mocking smile on her lips. Fine. At least I had half the money. It was a hundred bucks more than I had five minutes ago. For the rest, I’d have to go find Dad. 04 Leaving Mom’s apartment, my left cheek was still throbbing. But I couldn’t worry about that. I still needed the other half of the fees. Dad’s house was on the other side of the city. It took me two hours by bus to get there. When I arrived, the front door was slightly ajar. I pushed it open gently. The living room was quiet. Only the dim flickering light from the television illuminated the space. Dad was crashed on the sectional, watching an old Bruce Lee movie. He was in sweats, his hair a mess, looking completely burnt out. Strangely, the volume was muted. He didn’t notice me until I walked directly in front of the TV, blocking his view. “Oh. Jordan. You’re here.” “Why is the sound off?” I asked. Dad pointed toward my brother’s room. “Dylan is working on his college essays. I didn’t want to distract him.” I nodded and sat on the far end of the sectional. On the screen, Bruce Lee was kicking and punching his way through a crowd, but without the sound effects, it just looked ridiculous. Dad turned his head to look at me, and his eyes immediately locked onto my left cheek. “What happened to your face?” “Who hit you?” His expression shifted instantly from exhaustion to raw fury. “I went to Mom for graduation dues and AP fees, and she…” Before I could finish the sentence, Dad was on his feet, grabbing his phone and dialing a number. “Hello? Sarah? Are you out of your mind?” The second the call connected, Dad started roaring: “You actually hit Jordan? She’s a kid! How could you lay a hand on her?” On the other end of the line, Mom’s shrill voice came through the speaker. I couldn’t make out the words, but I could tell she was screaming back. “What do you mean I haven’t fulfilled my duty as a father?” Dad’s voice got even louder. “What kind of mother are you? You won’t even pay your own daughter’s school fees?” “And you have the nerve to talk about me? Look at how you’ve spoiled Chloe. She’s totally useless.” “At least Dylan is responsible, unlike your child…” Their shouting match escalated rapidly. The atmosphere in the living room became thick with tension. Dylan, my younger brother, came running out of his room. “Dad! What are you screaming about? Keep it down!” “Nothing, buddy. Go back to your essays.” Dad quickly covered the phone’s microphone, his tone instantly becoming gentle. But Dylan had already heard enough. “Dad, is that woman calling to bitch at you again?” His voice was filled with venom. When he said “that woman,” he spat the words out. On the other end of the line, Chloe’s sharp voice pierced through: “Dylan Miller, who are you calling ‘that woman’? That’s your mother. Where are your manners?” Dylan snatched the phone out of Dad’s hand and put it on speaker. “Chloe Miller, who do you think you are? You’re a fifth-year senior at a community college. You have no right to lecture me.” “And besides, my Dad divorced your Mom. She isn’t my mother anymore!” Chloe’s voice jumped an octave. “You little punk! Your grades are trash. The only reason you’re even going to college is on an athletic scholarship. You dare talk down to me?” Dylan shot back, sneering. “Oh, big words from someone who is twenty and still taking general ed classes.” “I skipped a grade. I’m seventeen and I’m already getting recruited by D1 schools.” They were screaming at each other, faces red, utterly determined to destroy the other. And I, the leftover daughter, the entire reason this fight started, sat there like an outsider, watching the war raging around me. What a pathetic family. After the divorce, each parent took their favorite child and treated the other’s like a disease. Chloe and Dylan had always hated each other, competing for attention since they were little. After the divorce, it became open warfare. This fight wasn’t about me. Not really. They were arguing to prove their own parenting was superior. To prove their chosen child was more successful. Finally, Chloe and Dylan, as if by agreement, both declared they were going to crush the other in life. “I’m going to make so much more money than you, just to make my Mom proud!” “Hilarious. I’m going to be a pro athlete and make you look like a complete failure just to honor my Dad!” The air between them crackled with the intense need to win. After hanging up, Dylan immediately turned to Dad to show his loyalty. “Dad, I’m going back to study.” “I promise I’m going to get into a better university than Chloe and her stupid community college, just to make you proud!” Hearing this, Dad’s face immediately relaxed into a satisfied smile. “That’s my boy. I believe in you.” “You’re talented, you work hard. You’re going to a great school.” Getting his validation, Dylan held his head high and marched back into his room. The living room fell silent again. Dad finally remembered I was sitting there. He turned to look at me, his expression flat. There was none of the gentle warmth he showed Dylan, and none of the fury he directed at Chloe. Just a flat, dismissive indifference. “Right. You need money for school fees.” I watched him pick up his phone and tap the screen a few times. “I just Venmoed you the other half.” I checked the amount. It was the exact other fifty percent. Not a penny more, not a penny less. “It’s getting late. Be careful on your way home.” With that, he sat back down on the sectional. And went back to watching his silent Bruce Lee movie. “Okay. I’m leaving.” I said softly, then turned toward the door. There was no sound behind me. No offer for a ride, no concern, not even a simple “bye.” I closed the door gently and stood in the dim, dingy hallway. The motion-sensor light clicked on, blinding me with its harsh white glare. I squinted. I touched my left cheek. It still throbbed. But it didn’t matter. I finally had the money. 05 After paying the dues and AP fees. I was utterly flat broke. But luckily, the school had a program for seniors, providing free breakfast and lunch for the final two weeks of the semester. So, the problem of basic survival was solved. I poured every ounce of energy I had into studying. On the rare occasion the teachers let us use our phones to look up information, I’d catch a glimpse of Chloe’s or Dylan’s Instagram stories. Screenshots of Mom and Dad pampering them, showing off all the “care packages” they were sending to help them get through finals. I glanced at them and immediately closed the app. Right now, I only had one goal. Get the best scores possible. … The four days of AP exams finally ended. The moment I walked out of the final testing room, I felt a crushing weight lift off my shoulders. Every single concept, every formula, every historical date—it was all information I had locked in my head. But my relief didn’t last long. I didn’t have any money, so I immediately went to the local shopping district to look for a part-time job. I got a job as a barista at a coffee shop, working twelve-hour shifts. It was exhausting, but it was cash, and they paid daily. I was satisfied. I worked like that for weeks. Results day was finally here. I was wiping down tables at the coffee shop when my phone rang. It was Dad. “Jordan, the scores come out tomorrow. Chloe and Dylan both think they did pretty well.” “We’re having a big celebratory dinner at a nice restaurant. You should come.” I held the phone, surprised. They were actually inviting me? But then I realized why. If both Chloe and Dylan went and I didn’t, what would the relatives think of them? “Okay. I’ll be there.” The celebration was at a high-end steakhouse. I wore the only nice outfit I owned to the dinner. The private banquet room was full of guests—friends and family. Chloe was wearing an expensive white designer dress, smiling brightly as she greeted everyone. Dylan was in brand-name athletic streetwear, chatting confidently with his friends. And I walked in like an unwelcome party crasher. I found a seat in the far corner, quiet and observant. Chloe and Dylan were already arguing about who did better. “I definitely got higher scores. I took an extra year of classes, my foundation is solid.” “Pfft. I get an athletic point boost, and I’m definitely ten points ahead of you easily.” The relatives laughed at their competitive banter, filling the room with warm energy. “You both probably did amazing!” “Your parents are so lucky to have two brilliant children like you!” Mom and Dad were sitting at different tables, but both had expressions of eager anticipation on their faces. Finally, the time came to check the results. “Let’s go by age. Chloe first!” someone suggested. Chloe confidently walked to the front of the room, inputting her student ID under the watchful eyes of the entire party. A few seconds later, her face completely drained of color. The confidence was instantly replaced by shock, then despair. “What is it?” Mom asked nervously. Chloe’s voice was trembling. “Two… two hundred and twenty.” The room fell dead silent. A 220. Not even high enough to get into most state universities, let alone her goal. It was barely community college level. Dylan immediately burst out laughing. “Hahaha! You took an extra year of classes and got that score?” “I thought you were supposed to be the smart one!” Mom’s face went white, then red, then purple. She looked like she wanted to disappear into the floorboards. She had spent the last hour bragging to the relatives about how smart Chloe was, and now she had been slapped in the face with the truth. Dad was visibly enjoying her humiliation from across the room. “Sarah Miller, look at your precious daughter.” “What’s the point of studying if you don’t have any real brains? She’s just a mindless grind.” “An extra year of classes, and all she got was a ticket to a trade school!” Mom hissed through her teeth. “Save the commentary. Let’s see your son’s scores!” Dylan confidently walked to the front of the room. He entered his student ID, and his expression shifted from confidence to pure, unadulterated joy. “Five hundred and sixty-eight! Almost a hundred points over the state university entrance line!” Dad was ecstatic, slapping Dylan on the shoulder. “That’s my boy! That’s responsible parenting right there!” Mom’s face was terrifying now. She looked ready to storm out. Just then, my aunt’s voice cut through the silence. “Jordan is here too, isn’t she? Let her check her scores.” Every eye in the room suddenly swung toward me. I could feel my heart hammering against my ribs, my palms sweating as I walked slowly to the front of the room and input my student ID. A few seconds later, the results appeared on the screen. Reading & Writing: 800 Math: 800 AP Lit: 5 AP Calc BC: 5 AP Gov: 5 AP Bio: 5 Total SAT: 1600 State Rank: 1 The entire room went dead silent, followed by a burst of confused laughter. “Haha, a 1600? A perfect score? What kind of glitch is this?” “She must have entered the wrong student ID.” “She probably just didn’t get any results and it defaulted to zero or something.” Chloe, seeing that my score was ostensibly lower than hers, smirked with cruel delight. “A perfect zero. Literally the stupidest person in history.” Dylan was practically rolling on the floor with laughter. “Sister, at least you got a two hundred. She got a perfect zero! Hahaha!” The relatives whispered among themselves, their eyes filled with mockery and disdain. Dad and Mom both looked furious, clearly feeling that I had completely humiliated them in front of the family. I stood at the front of the room, enduring their laughter and insults. I knew exactly what this result meant. But I didn’t say a word. I just quietly walked back to my seat in the corner. 06 Dad was immediately surrounded by relatives, everyone begging him to share his secrets of responsible parenting. He made a show of being humble, waving his hands dismissively, but his voice was thick with pride. He kept shooting triumphant glances toward Mom. His entire vibe was screaming, See? I told you I was the successful parent. Watching her ex-husband basking in the glory only made Mom’s fury burn hotter. With no other outlet for her rage, she turned on Chloe, who was shrinking into her chair. She started tearing into her, her voice loud and harsh. “An extra year of classes, and you got a 220? How can I hold my head up in front of these people?” “It’s not even just about Dylan Miller beating you. You can’t even get into a halfway decent university!” Chloe ducked her head, her eyes welling with tears. Hearing Mom lay into Chloe only made Dad even smugger. He cleared his throat, deliberately raising his voice. “Actually, there is no real trick to parenting. The key is to be present and to lead by example.” Everyone nodded in agreement. “Take Dylan. I’ve been cultivating his athletic talent since he was a kid.” “True intelligence is having both physical prowess and mental acuity.” His words were deliberate stabs at Mom’s open wound. Just as the tension was about to reach a breaking point, the double doors to the banquet hall slammed open. Two groups of people entered at the exact same time. The first group was wearing formal business suits, carrying elegant portfolios. I immediately recognized them as university recruitment officers. Dad’s eyes lit up. He practically leaped to his feet, smoothing his suit jacket with an arrogant smirk. “They must be here for Dylan!” Dad’s voice trembled with excitement as he rushed toward the group. “Welcome, officers! You’re here to recruit my son, Dylan Miller, right?” His tone was dripping with arrogance, already imagining the jealous stares of the relatives. However, the lead recruiter looked confused. He glanced down at his notes, his brow furrowed. “Excuse me. We are here to find a student named Miller.” “But…” He paused, his eyes scanning the crowd. “We are looking for Jordan Miller.” The banquet hall fell dead silent. Every head in the room snapped around to look at me in the corner. The relatives who had just been laughing at my “perfect zero” now sat with their mouths hanging open, looking utterly sick. Dad’s triumphant smile froze on his face. He looked ready to choke on his own humiliation. The recruitment officer continued. “Jordan Miller is this year’s state valedictorian.” “A perfect 1600 SAT score and straight fives on all her AP exams. Number one in the entire state.” “We are here to officially invite her to select Stanford!” Hearing that I was the valedictorian, Chloe’s face turned gray. The shred of superiority she had felt thinking I was a failure disintegrated completely. Dylan stared at me, dumbstruck, not knowing what to do. Mom could barely believe her own ears. “The… the state valedictorian?” While everyone was still processing this bombshell, the other group of people, wearing uniforms, spoke up. “Which one of you is Dylan Miller?” Dylan instinctively took a step back, his voice trembling. “I… I am.” Dad, thinking he understood what was happening, wiped his brow and managed a smile as he stepped forward. “And you must be here to invite my son to UC Berkeley, right?” I barely contained a snort of laughter. A 568, and he thinks he’s getting recruited by Berkeley? Does Dad own Berkeley now? Sure enough, the officers pulled out a legal document. “We have received a verified report that Dylan Miller used performance-enhancing drugs during his athletic recruitment evaluations.” “After a thorough investigation, the report has been confirmed.” “His athletic scholarship offer has been rescinded, and his test results have been invalidated. He is required to cooperate with a further investigation into drug use.” Dylan’s face went utterly pale. His legs buckled, and he barely kept his balance. “No… that’s impossible… I didn’t do that.” But the officers already had the evidence. “This is your urine analysis report. The results are positive for prohibited substances.” Mom, hearing this, immediately felt her humiliation from earlier evaporate. She looked at Dad, her eyes gleaming with vengeful delight. “Ha! Mark Miller, you still think you’re a great parent?” “So what if your precious son scored high? He’s a doper. A cheater. Like father, like son!” Dad’s face went purple with rage. The arrogance from moments before vanished completely. He turned on Dylan, snarling as he slapped my brother hard across the face, then backhanded him. “You ungrateful little cheat! You have humiliated me!” “How could you do something so pathetic and disgraceful!” The banquet hall exploded into total chaos. The relatives were whispering furiously, their eyes darting back and forth. “My God, Jordan is the state valedictorian!” “A perfect 1600! That is insane!” “Dylan Miller cheated. How utterly humiliating!” “The three Miller children… they certainly are surprising.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “404105”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My mother is a delicate, high-maintenance socialite. Since I was little, I was always the one taking care of her. Yet, when my father’s mistress came at me with a knife, she didn’t hesitate to throw herself in front of me. When I woke up again, I had returned to being eight years old. She stroked her perfectly manicured nails, ordering me to cook her dinner. I silently prepared a feast of eight dishes and two soups. She was shocked: “Did you poison this?” I placed some food in her bowl and said earnestly, “I approve of you dating Uncle Julian.” 1 Evelyn exploded. Her perfectly shaped eyebrows furrowed as she slammed her chopsticks down. “What Julian? What on earth is going on in that head of yours?” Me: “…” I silently handed her a clean pair of chopsticks. She eyed me suspiciously. “You little brat, what kind of trouble did you get into?” I hesitated for a few seconds, then pulled the chopsticks back out of her hand. She nodded, as if her suspicions were confirmed. “I knew it, you’re trying to mess with me.” I opened my arms to her. “Mommy, hug.” Evelyn was clearly startled. She looked at me in bewilderment, her beautiful face full of doubt. After a long moment, she poked my cheek with her long nail. “What are you mumbling about? Go make me another bowl of bird’s nest soup.” My lip trembled. I wanted to cry. She froze, frantically pulling out a few tissues and tossing them at my face. “W-what are you doing? Are you trying to guilt-trip me?” Just then, the heavy front door of the mansion opened. A tall, slender man stood in the doorway, backlit by the evening sun. The sounds in the room instantly ceased. I looked at him quietly for a good while before opening my mouth: “Dad.” Evelyn glanced at the man, snatched the chopsticks back from my hand, and casually began to eat. The man walked in coldly, heading toward the study on the second floor. As he passed the dining table, his steps faltered slightly. “You don’t need to go to the banquet tonight.” Smack. The chopsticks were slammed onto the table. Evelyn let out a cold laugh. “Then who are you planning to take?” My mother is breathtakingly beautiful. Before she married, she was a famous, dazzling beauty in our elite social circle. After marriage, her beauty didn’t diminish by a single fraction. Her natural looks, combined with meticulous maintenance, made her even more captivating. Even when she was angry, she oozed charm. But even so, my father’s gaze hadn’t lingered on her for a long time. The man frowned slightly. Without answering her question, he continued his steady pace up to the second floor. As the study door clicked shut, Evelyn threw her chopsticks away too. The next second, she stood up, ready to flip the table. I watched her in silence, and at the very last second, she stopped. Evelyn pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and smiled with an ambiguous expression. “You’re about to get a new mom soon. Are you happy?” I stared at her for two seconds, then stepped forward and pinched her cigarette out. She was completely stunned. Then she let out a shriek. “Are you crazy? Why did you pinch my cigarette?!” She grabbed my hand; my fingertips were blistered and red. Her fingers trembled as she pulled out her phone to call the family doctor. After hanging up, she gritted her teeth. “I swear to God, have you been watching too many cartoons? Do you think you’re made of iron?” I whispered, “You shouldn’t smoke. It’s bad for your health. And if you smoke too much, you won’t be pretty anymore.” Evelyn’s eyes filled with a complex emotion as she went to find an ice pack. She scoffed, “Even if your mother were ten times uglier, there still wouldn’t be a woman better-looking than her. Got it?” Enduring the pain, I looked at her quietly. I thought so too. Everyone in our circle thought so too. But my father just had to fall in love with a girl by his side who was merely plain-looking. Those “uncles” would gossip behind his back: “The Sterling family married such a beautiful wife, yet Arthur doesn’t cherish her. That’s the great Evelyn Hayes! How many men wanted to marry her back then but couldn’t?” But after saying that, they would always add, “I guess the flowers at home just don’t smell as sweet as the wild ones. Plus, Evelyn has had a kid and isn’t as young anymore. It’s understandable, I suppose.” When their kids secretly told me this at first, I couldn’t understand what it meant. I only heard my father’s and mother’s names, so I repeated it word for word to my mother. Evelyn’s expression remained unchanged. She just rolled her eyes. “You’re so young and you already know how to listen to gossip. You really have a limitless future. If you have this much free time, go learn some more vocabulary words.” But whenever I walked away, she would lock herself in her room, secretly smoking and drinking. The next day, she would act as if nothing happened, book a beauty appointment, and ask the kitchen to make health tonics. After that, I never repeated those words to her again. 2 “What are you arguing about?” Arthur stood on the second floor, looking down imperiously. Evelyn shot him a glance and applied the ice pack to my hand. It hurt so much I inhaled sharply. Arthur’s gaze moved from my hand to the cigarette butt on the floor. His expression was cold. “You can’t even take care of a child?” Evelyn looked annoyed. “You put yourself on such a high pedestal. Just get lost.” Suddenly, she paused. “That finale necklace at the auction a couple of days ago… was that you bidding against me?” Arthur met her eyes. She smiled sarcastically. “You didn’t know? Your little mistress is already parading around wearing it.” “She’s not my mistress,” Arthur said, his lips pressing into a thin line, looking displeased. “Uh-huh, she’s your true love.” She waved a hand dismissively. “Wishing you both a long and happy life together.” Arthur let out a breath and slowly descended the stairs. “You’re still coming with me tonight.” As if expecting this, Evelyn chuckled softly. She slowly draped an arm over his shoulder and exhaled a breath near his ear. “Beg me, Mr. Sterling.” Arthur took a step back, his body tensing slightly. He warned, “The child is right here. Don’t mess around.” She let out a bored “oh” and turned to me. “Go upstairs. The doctor will be in your room in a minute.” Just as I closed my bedroom door, I heard the sound of a vase shattering outside. I sat at my desk and opened my diary from memory. The eight-year-old me had a very poor relationship with Ms. Evelyn Hayes. I grew up lacking fatherly love and hardly felt any motherly love either. While other kids were being held and coaxed, I was already fetching tea and water for my mother. She never managed my daily life; she elegantly dressed herself every day, doing her hair, getting her nails done, and going to beauty treatments. Occasionally, her maternal instincts would kick in, and she’d read me skincare tips. Whenever a parent was required to attend an event, it was always Grandpa Alfred, the butler, who went. Later, I often thought that my existence was unwelcome. I wasn’t the child of the woman my father loved. Perhaps my mother also frequently regretted having me, as my birth had taken a toll on her body. … I flipped to the last page of the diary. [Leo asked me to hang out the day after tomorrow. I want to go, but Uncle Julian will be there too. I hate Uncle Julian. He always looks at Mom with a weird expression.] As a sixteen-year-old reading what my eight-year-old self wrote, my feelings were quite complicated. Ten minutes later, there was a knock on the door. I cleared my throat. “Come in.” Evelyn walked in, followed by the family doctor, who opened his medical kit to bandage me up. Evelyn comfortably sat on my bed. She paused. “Do you want to go to the banquet tonight? Your grandparents said they want to see you. It’s fine if you don’t go; it’s a mixed crowd there.” I pondered. Uncle Julian would be there too. I had to go and scout the situation. I nodded. “I’ll go.” Evelyn shrugged. “Up to you.” After the doctor finished, Evelyn was about to leave to prepare her gown. Watching her slender back, I couldn’t help but say, “Mom.” She stopped in her tracks, uncomfortably rubbing the goosebumps that had popped up on her arms. “…What is it?” I said pitifully, “I don’t have a suitable dress.” Evelyn loved luxurious, exquisite dresses, but I only cared about comfort, wearing T-shirts and shorts to every occasion. Moreover, I never let her pick my clothes; I only liked wearing bright, clashing colors—reds and greens. Evelyn turned around in shock, looking as if she had seen a ghost. “Really? You really want to wear a dress?” She came over, felt my forehead, and muttered, “You don’t have a fever either.” My lip trembled, ready to cry again. “All the other kids have pretty dresses, but I don’t!” She looked at me in bewilderment. “Y-you can’t blame me for that. Every time I tried to dress you, you’d get mad.” So eventually, she gave up and let me wear whatever I wanted. “I don’t care, I want a dress!” I wiped away a tear. She had never seen me like this before. She was stunned for a moment. “Fine, I’ll have someone prepare one. But I’m telling you right now, you have to wear little leather shoes with it, no sneakers allowed. Tsk, stop crying…” 3 I sat next to my grandmother, watching Evelyn holding Arthur’s arm. The surroundings were noisy and bustling. Her long, wavy hair cascaded down her back. Wearing a red mermaid gown, she was dazzlingly radiant. In stark contrast to her brilliant smile, Arthur looked much colder. My grandmother cast a calm glance over there before retracting her gaze. Turning to me, she pinched my cheek. “Our little Riley is finally willing to wear a dress. She’s growing up.” My grandfather looked over with a stern expression. He shook his head. “This is how a young lady should be. Evelyn loves dressing herself up but doesn’t put any effort into her daughter.” My grandmother agreed. “Exactly. I’ve told her so many times to get Riley a proper outfit, but she just won’t listen.” I piped up weakly, “Grandpa, Grandma, I was the one who didn’t like wearing dresses.” My grandfather scoffed coldly. “That’s still because she didn’t raise you right.” I was taken aback and wanted to argue back. Just then, someone poked my arm. I turned my head and was surprised. “Leo…” Leo smiled brightly and greeted them. “Hello, Grandpa, Grandma. Hi, Riley.” My grandmother smiled. “What a good boy.” I followed Leo to a corner to eat desserts. He stuffed a small cupcake into my mouth and then accused me: “Why didn’t you come to the amusement park yesterday?” Me: “…” I scratched my head. “I got into a fight with my mom.” He paused, then said slowly, “Oh, I guess that’s understandable.” Leo had a head of obedient brown hair, red lips, and white teeth. Wearing a small suit, he looked quite cute in his seriousness. I stared at him. In my previous life, during the eight years that followed, Leo and I became absolute enemies. I thought his dad coveted my mom, so I never gave him a good look. He always mocked me for dressing ugly and said I was missing a few brain cells. But looking back now, those days of constant bickering were some of the few colorful moments in my life. I grabbed his hand and asked deeply, “Do you think I dress ugly?” Leo took a step back, stammering, “Huh? Today… today you look pretty good.” I shook my head. “What about before?” He fell silent. The quiet corner formed a stark contrast to the noise elsewhere. I sniffled, my eyes turning red. “They all say I’m an ugly duckling, that they don’t like me, that I’m not as pretty as my mom…” He hurriedly pulled me close. “Who said that? You look great! You’re the prettiest!” “Really? I look great every day?” I asked. He nodded, then after a moment, he awkwardly scratched his cheek. “Yeah, they’re just talking nonsense. Tell me who said that, and I’ll go settle the score with them.” I paused. Way too many people had said that. From my childhood to adolescence, countless people had compared me to Evelyn, saying I wasn’t as pretty as she was when she was little, that I hadn’t inherited her beauty, that I wasn’t cut out to be a stunner. But… why did they have to compare me to other people? Why did they have to compare me to my mother? I sighed. I stuffed a small cupcake into Leo’s mouth too. Suddenly. A commotion broke out nearby. I saw that gentle girl in a white dress accidentally spill a glass of red wine onto Evelyn’s midsection. Both dresses were ruined. Everyone knew this was the girl’s petty trick, but Arthur didn’t stand by his wife’s side. My grandparents only blamed their daughter-in-law, who had no blood ties to them. I gritted my teeth in anger. Just as I was about to step forward, Leo grabbed my hand. I saw a man unhurriedly step into the center of the vortex. Wearing a low-key but luxurious silver-grey suit, he lazily raised an eyebrow. “Miss Hayes’s dress has been completely ruined by you.” The girl’s face paled slightly as she hid behind Arthur. She said softly, “Mr. Julian, her dress is red, mine is white…” The implication was that the stain on her dress should be more obvious. “Who spilled the wine? Do we need to check the security cameras?” Julian chuckled. Arthur’s eyes were icy. “This is my family’s business. It has nothing to do with you.” Julian’s expression froze slightly. I gritted my teeth and pulled Leo forward. The crowd parted to make way for us. I articulated clearly and crisply: “Leo and I have sworn an oath of brotherhood; he’s my brother now. That makes Uncle Julian my godfather!” I nudged Leo, who immediately nodded. “That’s right!” A dead silence fell over the room. Only Julian’s lips curled up slightly. With one hand in his suit pocket, he said, “Did you hear that? Now Miss Hayes’s business is my family’s business too.” The onlookers all gasped. Arthur’s face instantly darkened a few shades. “Godfather?” Leo and I nodded solemnly in unison. “Pfft.” Evelyn, who hadn’t spoken until now, let out a laugh. Her red lips curved; she seemed genuinely amused by us. But she didn’t refute it. Arthur reached out and grabbed Evelyn’s wrist, pulling her to his side. His joy or anger was indiscernible, but the hostility radiating from him was barely suppressed. “Miss Hayes? Mr. Julian, you should be addressing her as Mrs. Sterling.” “You sure like to manage things,” Julian said with a laid-back tone. He then turned and instructed a waiter, “Take Miss Hayes to change her dress.” Arthur didn’t let go. Evelyn looked at him with a half-smile. “Husband, aren’t you going to let go?” The girl hiding behind Arthur whispered, “Mr. Sterling, my dress is stained too.” A shadow fell over Arthur’s brow. After a long moment, he finally released his grip. Then he turned and personally escorted the girl to the lounge. The farce ended, and the subtle crowd of onlookers dispersed. Only Leo, Uncle Julian, and I remained standing there. I looked up. Julian happened to look down, his peach-blossom eyes gazing at me with unreadable emotion. Right at that moment, a waiter bowed slightly beside me. “The old madam requests your presence.” I froze for a moment, then turned my head to meet my grandmother’s stern gaze. Leo pulled me back. “Don’t go.” I shook my head. 4 “You’re deliberately trying to embarrass your father!” My grandmother was so angry she slapped me hard on the back. “Where are your manners as a young lady?” He wasn’t embarrassed; the one who was embarrassed was my mother. I said quietly, “Grandma, who is that woman? Why didn’t dad blame her when she spilled red wine on mom’s dress?” My grandmother frowned. “Your father is the head of the corporation; naturally, he has the capacity to be tolerant of others.” I didn’t say anything more. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Julian holding a wine glass, downing one drink after another. I had heard that back then, everyone thought my mom and Julian would end up together, but they ultimately fell one step short. Julian remained unmarried to this day, and Leo, who was under his name, was adopted from a relative. I stroked my chin thoughtfully. Just then, I saw Leo sneaking off toward a certain area. I immediately wanted to follow him. But my grandmother grabbed me firmly, displeased. “Don’t run around. Sit here and be good.” “I need to go to the bathroom!” I bolted out of there like lightning. I followed Leo all the way to the lounge. He didn’t notice me as he hid quietly by the crack of the door. Voices drifted from inside the lounge. Evelyn said lazily, “Back then, you said your family was struggling, so I recommended you to the company. I was a benefactor to you. Was there really a need to make such a scene at this kind of occasion?” There was a moment of silence inside, then that soft voice replied, “It’s Mr. Sterling who is my benefactor. He promoted me to secretary, and my salary is several times higher than my previous position.” Evelyn smiled. “Fine. You have love and money. What are you missing? The position of Mrs. Sterling?” There was no answer from inside. After a long while. “I’m pregnant,” the girl said softly. “Evelyn, you don’t lack anything. Just let me have him. I don’t want my child to be born without a father.” There was the sound of a coat rack crashing down; my mom probably kicked it over. Seeing that Evelyn had finally lost control, the girl’s smile carried a hint of genuine satisfaction as she continued: “I’ve had it checked; it’s a boy. Mr. Sterling and I are both very much looking forward to his birth. He’s even bought a lot of baby things in advance.” A crisp, sharp slap rang out, and the girl sighed. “Go ahead and hit me. In the end, Mr. Sterling is the one who will feel sorry for me.” Her gentle voice could no longer hide her smugness: “Miss Hayes, when you looked down on me with your charity back then, did you ever imagine that one day you’d be dragging your daughter out of the Sterling family in disgrace?” I clutched the hem of my dress tightly. Suddenly, a flash of white light went off in my brain. Wait a minute. She was never pregnant! If she were truly pregnant, and with a boy, let alone her getting a title, my grandmother would absolutely never let her grandson be an illegitimate child. My expression hardened. Then I locked eyes with Leo. He stumbled back two steps, not realizing I was right next to him. Leo was silent for a few seconds, then whispered awkwardly in my ear to comfort me: “It’s okay. If your mom really doesn’t want you, I’ll have my dad adopt you too. I won’t let you be homeless.” I froze, then grabbed his hand, deeply moved. “Thank you.” His fingers curled slightly. Suddenly, a tall, slender shadow fell over us. “What are you two doing?” Arthur looked down coldly. I jumped in fright and managed an awkward smile. “Dad, we were worried about Mom, so we came to check.” “We?” Arthur let out a cold laugh. He grabbed me by the back of my collar and lifted me up. “Stay away from this kid.” Leo gritted his teeth, turned around, and ran off. The door opened. The girl, with a red handprint on her cheek, threw herself into Arthur’s arms. She didn’t speak; she just sobbed. Evelyn stood inside, wearing a half-smile. As soon as she saw me, she immediately put out her cigarette. Me: “…” Arthur frowned and asked Evelyn, “Did you hit her?” Evelyn threw him a lazy glance. “I’d worry about hurting my hand if I hit her.” For some reason, the previously calm look on Arthur’s brow darkened a few shades. The girl looked incredulous. “What did you say? You were the one who hit me…” “Enough,” Arthur cut her off coldly. “Since you don’t want to stay here, I’ll have someone take you back.” With that, he signaled the bodyguards to take the girl away. The sound of sobbing continued, growing fainter and fainter. Arthur took a few steps closer to Evelyn, his voice devoid of emotion. “Satisfied?” Evelyn stared at him for two seconds, the fake smile completely vanishing from her face. After a long moment, she scoffed at herself. “You make me sick.” With that, she pushed past Arthur, her high heels clicking as she walked out. She was still wearing the mermaid gown stained with wine. Arthur’s back was to the door, so I couldn’t see his expression.

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My childhood friend’s family carries a rare werewolf lineage. For them, the first person they “mark” during their transition into adulthood becomes their fated mate for life. When his first “fever” hit, his friends called me to help soothe the transition. But standing outside his door, I heard him growl with irritation: “I really don’t want to give her the satisfaction. Our kind is too loyal—once we mark someone, they’re our only partner forever. “I’m waiting for someone like Serena. Not a girl like Chloe who follows me around like a lost puppy. Tonight, even if she begs to help me, I’ll hold back.” He waited and waited, but I never walked through that door. What he didn’t know was that his older brother’s head of security was already blowing up my phone: “Miss Chloe, Mr. Sterling has considered you his only mate for years. Please, he’s dying. Can you just come and be with him?” He didn’t know that five years ago, when I “died” in that skiing accident in Aspen, it wasn’t him who saved me. It was his brother, Silas. To pull me back from the brink of death, Silas shared half of his own life-force with me through a forbidden blood-bond. Late that night, I wrapped my arms around Silas’s neck and whispered, “Mr. Sterling, stop holding back. Tell me… how many years have you been secretly in love with me?” 01 The Sterling family are shifters. After they turn twenty, every full moon brings a “fever”—a rut that demands a mate. The first person they mark during this time becomes their one and only for the rest of their lives. I always thought the person my childhood friend, Archer, would mark was me. But the night his lineage finally awakened, I stood outside the private lounge at the club and heard his voice dripping with disdain. “I really don’t want Chloe to have it that easy. “I want to go after the campus queen, but she’s not the type of girl you can just mess with. “Chloe’s different. She’s like a stray dog that shows up whenever I whistle. “Once she gets here, even if she begs to help me through the fever, I’m going to resist. I don’t want one night to turn into a life sentence with her dragging me down.” I stood in the hallway, my mind going completely blank. I never imagined that Archer—the boy I grew up with, the boy I gave everything to—actually saw me that way. Inside, his friends laughed. They were the type to kick someone when they were down. “So she’s just a toy to you?” “Maybe I should call her and tell her not to come. Wouldn’t want her taking advantage of the situation to climb into your bed and claim the ‘Luna’ title. Honestly, cheap goods aren’t worth the trouble.” Archer groaned in pain but stopped them. “Whatever. If you call her now and tell her not to come, she’ll get suspicious. “Even if she is just a toy, she’s the toy I grew up with. I don’t want her to feel too bad. “When she gets here, I’ll see if I can hold out. I don’t want to spell it out for her, but this is a good chance to make her realize where she stands.” In that moment, I wanted to burst in and scream at him. You don’t want me to feel bad? You just called me a dog in front of your friends and let them trash me. You think I’m still obsessed enough to let you treat me like trash? But I held it in. There was no point wasting words on someone who didn’t value me. I turned and walked away, fleeing the scene before the tears could fall. I pulled out my phone and called his older brother’s lead bodyguard. “You called me earlier about Mr. Sterling needing help tonight. Is the offer still open? “Send me the address. I’m coming now.” 02 Half an hour ago, that bodyguard had told me a truth Archer had spent five years hiding. “Miss Chloe, do you remember five years ago when Archer took you skiing and you fell into that ravine? “The eldest brother, Silas, led the rescue. We searched for three days and nights before finding you buried in the snow. You were a frozen statue. You weren’t breathing. “Silas told Archer that a shifter can share half their lifespan with their partner, but it can only be done through a blood-rite on a full moon. “A blood-rite is the deepest form of marking. “Once it’s done, he is bound to you forever. “Archer refused. He didn’t want to lose half his life, even though he cried over your body. “In the end, it was Silas who saved you. “It was a miracle the full moon fell on that night. Silas performed the rite, gave you his life, and marked you as his fated mate. He saved you, but it meant he could never love anyone else. “Archer begged him never to tell you. “For five years, Silas has endured the full moon fevers alone. He never bothered you. He strictly forbade us from speaking of the sacrifice. “But tonight… he can’t make it. He was severely injured in a rescue operation, and with the full moon hitting, his body is failing. “Please. Can you help him?” My mind was spinning. I had actually died five years ago? Archer, who claimed to love me, wouldn’t sacrifice a single day for me. But Silas—the “Ice King,” the man I was always terrified of—had literally brought me back from the dead. I had initially told the guard: “I’m sorry, Archer needs me tonight.” I was prepared to be ungrateful just to go to Archer. And yet, Archer thought of me as a dog. I was pathetic. I deserved to be looked down on. But I wasn’t going to be pathetic anymore. I wiped my eyes, gripped my phone, and told the guard: “Is it too late to repay the debt? “If Silas needs me tonight… I’m his. Completely.” The guard sounded like he was crying. “It’s not too late. Not at all. “I’m sending the location now. “If he wasn’t at death’s door, I’d never dare defy his orders. His discipline is legendary, but I can’t let him die.” I understood. Silas probably just wanted to save a life back then. He didn’t want me clinging to him. And I just wanted to pay him back. It wasn’t a rebound. It was an awakening. 03 I didn’t expect to see Serena, the campus belle, outside the VIP hospital wing when I arrived. She was frantic, trying to push past the guards. “Let me in! “Isn’t it the full moon? How do you know Silas doesn’t need me? “Silas! Silas, please! Let me help you!” I almost laughed. Archer said Serena wasn’t “easy,” yet here she was, offering herself to his brother. The guard who had been blocking her saw me and immediately opened the door, his eyes misty. “Miss Chloe. You’re finally here. “Please, go in. He really needs you tonight.” Jealousy twisted Serena’s face into something hideous. “Why does she get to go in? “Silas got hurt saving her! “She’s a jinx! How can you let her near him?” I froze. He got hurt saving me? Again? Inside the room, it was chaos. I saw Silas. He was shirtless, sprawled across the bed, his skin a deep, feverish red. His short hair was soaked with sweat. His fingers were dug into the sheets, his muscles corded with the effort of restraint. His back was wrapped in heavy white bandages, but they were already soaked through with brilliant crimson blood. The doctor was pacing, yelling: “My God, Silas! Stop fighting it! Find a woman to help you. The bandages are soaked again. How much blood do you think you have? “It’s the full moon. The shifter blood is too aggressive; your clotting factor is non-existent. The best medicine in the world won’t work if your heart is racing like this. “You have to ease the fever, or you’re going to bleed out tonight! “Where is that girl? When is she getting here?” The bodyguards by the bed saw me. They bowed ninety degrees in a gesture of profound respect. “Doctor, she’s here.” Silas, who had been enduring a literal hell on that bed, suddenly opened his eyes. A pair of glowing, dark red eyes—terrifying and beautiful—locked onto mine. He fought back the primal hunger, his voice cold and furious: “Who brought her here? Get her out!” The lead guard stayed bowed. “Sir, only Miss Chloe can help you tonight. I’ll take whatever punishment you give. “But you’re dying because of her. You’ve saved her twice and kept it a secret. You might not feel wronged, but we can’t watch this anymore.” I stared at the man on the bed. Archer and I were childhood friends, but I had always avoided Silas. He was the “Living Reaper.” Even the most arrogant rich kids in the city turned into obedient mice in his presence. He had an aura of absolute power. I used to take the long way around just to avoid crossing his path. Now, this man—the one who made the world tremble—was clutching the bedsheets, his toes curling in agony. Every inch of him was radiating waves of heat. His ragged breathing filled the room. The contrast was staggering. He was a fallen god, vulnerable and breathtaking. “Wait,” I whispered. “You said he was hurt because of me again?” The guard started to speak, but Silas barked: “Shut up! Not another word!” He tried to soften his voice for me, though it remained distant. “Chloe… go home. I don’t need you here.” The guard, apparently ready to die for the truth, said: “Sir, stop the act. A hard mouth won’t win you a wife. “You’re acting tough, but your heart is a mess. Whenever she’s in danger, you throw your life away. You ran into a literal fire for her. Do you think we’on’t see that?” 04 The other guards joined in, seemingly tired of the secrets. “Exactly. Last month, during the full moon, who was staring at the photo of Chloe on their lock screen until they were delirious? You were calling her name in your sleep. She’s all you think about. “And the month before that? You parked outside her dorm and sat there all night. You almost went in a dozen times before stopping yourself. A saint would have cracked by now. “If we don’t speak up, Chloe will never know. Do you really plan on suffering alone forever?” “I can handle it,” Silas said, his eyes dropping. The doctor snapped: “Handle my foot! You won’t see tomorrow’s sun at this rate. “Young lady, don’t just stand there. Figure out a way to calm him down!” The guards bowed again. But… “What do I do? I don’t know how.” The doctor, cutting away the bloody bandages, yelled: “Kiss him!” My face flushed deep red. Standing at the head of the bed, I didn’t know how to kiss this man who was actively pushing me away in front of everyone. The guard yelled: “Miss Chloe, do you know how he got those burns? “Two days ago, the university auditorium caught fire. You were trapped inside, unconscious from the smoke. You were seconds from suffocating. “Silas went in. Because of the bond, he can feel when you’re in pain. “He ignored everyone and charged into the fire. While he was carrying you out, a beam collapsed. It hit him right across the back. He was on fire. “But he didn’t drop you. He pushed through the pain and got you out. And then Archer showed up. “Archer saw Silas carry you out, snatched you from his arms, and acted like the hero. If Archer cared so much, why didn’t he go in himself?” My heart stopped. Silas did that? I remembered waking up in the hospital with Archer by my side. I thought Archer had saved me. I had been given too much information today to stay shy. I didn’t care anymore. I had to save him. I leaned over Silas. I pressed my lips to his in a firm kiss. “Don’t,” Silas growled. It was a warning, a rejection, but his hands gripped the sheets so hard his knuckles turned white. His eyes were bloodshot. He looked like he was being tortured. “Chloe, do you even know what you’re doing? You usually run when you see me. Don’t do this out of some sense of debt. And don’t listen to them. It won’t work. I feel nothing.” The doctor suddenly shouted: “It’s working! The bleeding is slowing down! “Miss Chloe, don’t stop! Keep going! “His body is a lot more honest than his mouth. Kiss him like you mean it!” The doctor’s words were like a slap to Silas’s “tough guy” act. Silas looked mortified. He actually buried his face in the pillow. He was… blushing? The tips of his ears were bright red. 05 The guards were nearly crying with relief. “I knew Chloe was the only cure.” “Miss Chloe, ignore anything that comes out of his mouth. He’s a professional at faking it. He’s dying for you to touch him! “Look at his ears! He’s just shy and doesn’t want to pressure you because he thinks you only love Archer.” Silas looked up, glaring at the guards. “Quiet!” But for the sake of his life, they ignored his fury. I took the chance to grab Silas’s handsome face and turn it toward me. I cradled the back of his head and sealed his lips with mine. I didn’t care how “tough” he was. I couldn’t be indifferent to a man who had died for me twice. I couldn’t let him suffer. The moment our lips met, I felt Silas shudder with a wave of raw emotion. But he still held onto the last shred of his logic. “Chloe… are you deaf? “I don’t want you to ‘repay’ me like this. “Who do you think I am? Do I look like I need your charity?” My eyes welled up. “Silas… I’m doing this because I want to. No one is forcing me.” I grabbed his hand and pressed it against my heart. His pupils contracted. He looked like he had touched something he wasn’t allowed to touch. A man of honor, he tried to pull his hand away. I held on tight. “Silas, feel my heart. “There is no hesitation here. Don’t feel guilty.” His throat moved as he swallowed hard, his restraint crumbling. “Don’t lie to me. I know Archer is the only one in your heart. “Before, when the guard called you… I heard. “You said… Archer needed you more tonight.” I wanted to explain, but Silas’s phone on the nightstand started ringing. It was Archer. Silas looked at the screen and swiped to answer. “Archer? What is it?” Archer’s pained, strained voice came through the speaker: “Silas… the fever hit me. It’s my first one. It hurts so much. “And Chloe… that idiot girl isn’t here yet. “I thought I could handle it, but I overestimated myself.” Silas looked at me. “Chloe is…” I immediately kissed Silas again, cutting off his words. Silas lost control at my repeated boldness. His pupils dilated. His large, powerful hand instinctively cupped the back of my head, pulling me closer. He wanted more. But his logic kicked in one last time. He pushed me back slightly, but before he could tell Archer I was there, Archer started complaining again. “I know she’s probably just stuck in traffic. “She’s probably dying to get here and ‘save’ me. “She’s probably over the moon right now. “But honestly, girls who are too easy are boring. “I really don’t want her to take advantage of me and mark her as my mate. Why does our kind have to be so damn loyal?” Silas’s blood-red eyes flashed with a mix of shock and cold anger. “You don’t want to be loyal? “Then why did you lead her on since you were kids?” Archer, talking to his brother, didn’t hold back. “I was young. I hadn’t seen enough of the world. “I didn’t know how much better the view was outside.” “Archer!” Silas’s voice was dangerously heavy. “If you don’t cherish her, don’t blame me for taking her!” 06 Silas’s words dropped like lead: “Don’t regret it later!” Archer was stunned for a second, then laughed. “I won’t regret it. “I’d be happy if she stopped clinging to me. “But don’t get your hopes up, Silas. “I might be able to let her go, but she can’t. “Chloe only has eyes for me. There’s no room for anyone else. “She’ll probably try to marry me even if I treat her like garbage. “What are you going to do, Silas? Force her to love you? “Forced love is meaningless. Even if you take her body, you’ll never have her heart. Why bother?” I was so tired of Archer’s unearned confidence. Afraid Silas would push me away again, I wrapped both arms around his neck and bit his earlobe gently. Silas was already drowning in the fever; he couldn’t handle that kind of stimulation. He cut Archer off coldly: “We’ll see about that.” Archer was still smug. “Silas, I’m telling you, Chloe is probably racing here at a hundred miles an hour. She’s probably flying. “Poor me, I’m sitting here in pain having to find the willpower to reject her when she tries to jump me. You wouldn’t understand.” Silas let out a cold, sharp laugh. “You think too much of yourself.” He listened to the phone while looking at me—the girl currently “jumping” him. His gaze had completely changed. Restraint, logic, hesitation—they were all tossed out the window. His large hand gripped the back of my head. He pulled me onto the hospital bed, rolling me into his arms. The bodyguards and the doctor were incredibly sharp. They all filed out instantly. When it was just Silas and me, the silence was thick with tension. I felt like I was pressed against a burning furnace. My heart was doing backflips. Silas’s voice was raw and ragged: “Last chance. Get out now. “Otherwise… “Once I decide to take something, I never let go. Even in death.” My heart pounded. I was actually a little scared. But I thought of the horrific burns on his back. I shook my head. The air in my lungs was suddenly stolen. Silas took charge, pinning me down and kissing me with a depth that left me breathless. He treated me like the most precious thing in the world. A soft sound escaped my throat, and Archer heard it through the phone. “Silas? What was that? Is there a woman there? “Who is it?” 07 Silas said, “You don’t need to know tonight. Tomorrow, I’ll introduce you to your future sister-in-law.” Archer laughed. “Alright. I won’t ruin your fun. “I’ll see what she looks like tomorrow.” Before the call ended, I heard Archer ask his friends irritably: “Where is Chloe? Call her again.” His friend teased him: “I thought you didn’t want her here? “What, you can’t handle the heat now?” Archer snapped back, “No way. I’m just worried she got into an accident. “Call her. Find out where she is.” The friend said, “She’s not picking up. Did something actually happen?” Archer growled, “Keep calling. Don’t stop until she answers.” Archer didn’t know that the constant ringing of my phone was acting like a soundtrack to our passion. The more the phone rang, the tighter Silas held me, as if he was afraid I would vanish. When I was nearly dizzy from lack of oxygen, Silas whispered in a low, rough voice: “Do you want to answer? “Maybe Archer changed his mind.” He was holding me, his body burning hot. I shook my head, my face flushed. “Silas… don’t ruin the mood.” I reached for his phone, hit the end call button, and tossed it aside. I pulled his head back down. “Silas, stop holding back. “Tonight… whatever you want. I’m yours.” Silas’s breath hitched like a flame catching. “Chloe… don’t tease me like this.” His kisses moved to my collarbone, his breathing completely shattered. I blinked. “You don’t like it?” “I love it. It just doesn’t feel real. “I know you’re only doing this to pay me back. “I’m greedy, Chloe. I want so much more than that.” The loneliness in his voice was heart-wrenching. I didn’t know how to answer that yet. “Silas… why did you give up half your life for me five years ago? “Archer wouldn’t do it. Why would you? “You put yourself in this cage, suffering every full moon because of me.” Silas didn’t answer with words. He just kissed me more intensely. Finally, I heard him murmur: “It’s not just the full moon. “I want you… every day. “But you always ran away when you saw me.” He gave a self-deprecating laugh. “How much did I scare you? “But after tonight, even if you run, even if you’re scared… I’m not letting go. “Chloe, you provoked me. You’re never getting away.” He held me so tight I felt like I was being fused into his body. A wild thought crossed my mind. Has Silas been secretly in love with me this whole time? Strangely, I wasn’t scared anymore. I felt a tiny spark of joy. The man who terrified the world… was a soft mess for me? I felt a little proud of myself. I wrapped my arms around his waist, careful of the wounds on his back. I tilted my head back to give him better access. “Silas… I’m not going to run. “If you don’t believe my words, watch my actions. “I’m going to kick Archer out of my heart. There’s only going to be room for you.”

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“Can I borrow two million dollars to buy a dress?” On the other end of the line: “…How about I just skin myself and let you wear me?” A second later, a notification popped up on my screen. [Your account ending in 8975 received a wire transfer on Sept 11 at 08:13 for the amount of $10,000,000.00…] 01 We were filming a reality show. The game was simple: call a celebrity friend and, without letting them know we were being recorded, trick them into saying a specific sentence. The sentences were drawn from a hat. I opened my slip of paper and felt my soul leave my body. [Prompt: Do you have a death wish?] What kind of niche insult was this? It sounded like a line from a bad action movie. “Oh my god, that’s so hard! Director, can we please give Riley a new prompt?” Brianna Cross leaned in out of nowhere, grabbing my arm and shaking it like we were childhood best friends. Nice act, girl. We’ve known each other for less than thirty minutes, and you’re already gunning for an Oscar in “Best Supportive Friend.” I declined with a fake, tight-lipped smile. “It’s fine. No need to swap.” The live chat stream on the screen started flying: [What is Riley Moore’s problem? Brianna is being so sweet, why the attitude?] [Poor Brianna, getting bullied on national TV.] [Riley is such a ‘pick-me.’ She ignores girls but won’t stop talking to the male guests.] [She’s totally thirsty. Did you see her flirting with Leo earlier?] I ignored the comments and stared at my phone. Most decent people wouldn’t just scream that at me, unless… But if I failed this task, I’d be forced to partner with Brianna for the rest of the season. I sighed, glancing at her as she blew kisses to the camera. “You guys, it’s fine! Riley and I are super close. I love her, and she’s always so good to me!” Brianna chirped. Whatever. I’d rather be nauseous for a minute than miserable for a day. I scrolled to the one person who would definitely say it. The ringtone echoed through the studio. The high-definition cameras zoomed in on my screen, capturing the contact name I had for the A-list actor, Hudson Vance. [Hot Guy with an Ego & a Great Ass] … Crap. I forgot I hadn’t changed his nickname. The entire studio went silent. I let out a nervous laugh. “Cough… it was a dare from a party. I forgot to change it back.” The ringtone kept playing. Usually, after ten more seconds, it would go to voicemail. The tension in the room was thick. Brianna patted my shoulder, sounding smug. “Don’t worry about it. Hudson was filming night scenes yesterday. He’s probably still asleep.” Oh? And how would you know that? 02 The chat went wild: [Riley’s contact name for him is killing me! A ‘Great Ass’? She’s real for that.] [Wait, Brianna knows his schedule? She knows he’s sleeping?] [Are Brianna and Hudson dating? I’ve heard rumors they spent New Year’s together.] [Riley is so thirsty, calling a guy with a name like that on live TV.] Finally, the call connected. “Hello?” A raspy, tired male voice filled the studio. It was deep, accompanied by the sound of heavy breathing. He was clearly in bed. I looked at Brianna, who was blushing. Wait… are they actually a thing? If so, Hudson, I mourn for your taste. She’s as shallow as a sidewalk puddle. Hudson sounded annoyed. “Riley? It’s eight in the morning. I’ve been asleep for two hours. This better be a life-or-death emergency.” I snapped back to reality and delivered my line. “Can I borrow two million dollars to buy a dress?” Insult me! Come on, say it! There was a pause on the other end. Then, he spoke. “How about I just skin myself and let you wear me?” … The host and guests were stifling laughs. The chat was calling me a gold-digger. I didn’t give up. I decided to go full chaotic. “Even if you stood naked in front of me, I’d still ignore you, dig through your pockets, and Venmo myself from your phone.” “Sorry, I don’t do ‘hurting men’s feelings,’ but I definitely do ‘taking your money.’” 03 Hudson went silent. I could hear the rustle of sheets. Finally! He was going to snap. Instead, a low, husky chuckle vibrated through the phone, and then he hung up. Just like that. The host tried to save the moment. “Well, it seems Mr. Vance is indeed very tired from his shoot.” The comments flooded in: [LMAO, he’s so done with her.] [Riley, have some self-respect.] [I bet Hudson and Brianna were in the same bed two hours ago. My heart!] [Riley Moore is such a snake, trying to call someone’s boyfriend like that.] I wanted to cry. Hudson is usually a total jerk with a silver tongue. Why was he being so unhelpful today? The camera was still focused on my phone. Just as I was about to exit out of my messages, a text banner popped up. [Your account ending in 8975 received a wire transfer on Sept 11 at 08:13 for the amount of $10,000,000.00…] Wait. One, ten, hundred, thousand… ten million?! Did he sleep-walk into his banking app? That’s enough money to buy me a funeral at the Taj Mahal. The studio erupted. Everyone gasped at the string of zeros. The host screamed, “Did Hudson Vance just send that?!” Before I could process it, Hudson’s messages started rolling in. [The money is yours.] [And for the record, I’m not wearing any clothes right now.] [FaceTime me if you have the guts.] A second later, the FaceTime ringtone blared through the speakers. 04 My blood was boiling. My heart was racing. That idiot Hudson! Did he leave his brain in his trailer? He was making us look like we were having a scandalous affair! [What is happening?! Is Hudson dating Riley?!] [Look at Brianna, she’s literally pale. I feel so bad for her…] [Trashy Riley and her games.] [Wait, Hudson doesn’t have time for drama. A paparazzi once followed him for 3 months and all he did was film and play ‘Plants vs. Zombies’ in his trailer at 2 AM.] [Hudson is a loner. Brianna’s fans need to chill.] I was trapped. I had to FaceTime him back. I forced a pathetic smile and looked at the other guests. “Hudson definitely knows we’re filming. He’s just trolling. Let’s all say hi together!” I raised my phone, making sure every guest and the camera was in the frame. I wasn’t going down alone. Brianna’s miserable face instantly transformed into a sweet pout. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and squeezed to the front. Great. My PR plan was ready. Step one: I answer the call. It shows I have nothing to hide. Step two: If they are dating, I’ll just post a headline about being their “number one shipper.” Step three: If they aren’t, all the hate will go to Brianna for faking it and Hudson for being a weirdo. Perfect. I’m a genius. 05 The morning light on the screen was soft. The first thing I saw was the muscular line of a man’s forearm. Hudson was lying face-down on a bed, half his face buried in a plush white pillow. His dark hair was messy, his eyes were heavy with sleep, and his back muscles rippled slightly as he breathed. I let out a breath of relief. Thank god, he was wearing a black tank top. It wasn’t X-rated. Then, Hudson froze. He saw the ten people staring back at him through the screen. “Morning, Hudson,” someone chirped. “You look exhausted! Have you been getting enough sleep?” Brianna said, her eyes shining with fake concern. I tried to hide my face in the corner of the frame. The last time I saw him look this “done,” I had accidentally swapped his shaving cream for hair removal cream… Brianna didn’t notice his darkening expression. She just smiled wider. Girl, read the room, I thought. The audio through the studio speakers made his voice sound ten times more intimidating. I could practically hear him grinding his teeth. “Riley Moore. Do you think I’m blind? I can see you hiding.” “What’s the matter? Did you quit acting to become a pimp? Is this a catalog of your new talent?” “Do you want me to take the shirt off and dance for the crowd too?” The silence that followed was deafening. Even the host was speechless. Suddenly, Hudson flipped over and sat up. He squinted his “puppy-dog” eyes and let out a bright, mischievous laugh. He looked like he had just won a prank war. “It was a joke, guys. Did I scare you?” “Hudson, you’re so mean! I was actually terrified!” Brianna giggled, pouting. Hudson’s lip twitched. He flashed a charming smile, showing off his dimples. With his messy hair, he looked completely harmless. “Oh, hey Brianna. I didn’t see you there.” … What an Oscar-worthy performance. The crowd laughed. I looked at him with newfound respect. I don’t even care about the money. I’m just impressed. He was furious five seconds ago, and now he’s the “Internet’s Boyfriend” again. No wonder he has millions of fans. He’s a professional liar. 06 The internet was confused: [Who is he actually into? I’m lost.] [He didn’t even notice Brianna at first!] [I think he knew she was on the show and was just being a jerk through Riley.] [Brianna and Hudson are SO over. Riley and Hudson have way more chemistry.] [chemistry? He literally sent her ten million dollars! TEN MILLION!] [I just want to see him without the shirt.] The media shifted focus. They started wondering why Riley was so calm about a ten-million-dollar wire from a shirtless Hudson. Then, someone leaked a video from a private club. In the grainy footage, I was sitting in a booth, looking at a stack of model headshots and complaining loudly. “This guy is a male model? He looks like a thumb!” “If he sits next to me, people will think I’m the one paying for his dinner.” “This one looks like a plastic mannequin from a mall window.” The internet loved it. The tabloids ran the headline: [The Ice Queen’s Night Out: Riley Moore Prefers Cash over Comely Men.] My manager called and screamed at me for an hour. But then, the smells of money arrived. A dating show called “The Heiress and the Heartbreakers” reached out. Controversial fame is still fame. I’ll take it. However, after 56 hours of enjoying the spike in my follower count, I was summoned home by my family. Their excuse: “It’s time for your arranged marriage.” 07 My parents claimed the entertainment industry was a “sewer” and that their “innocent little girl” was being corrupted. They wanted me to settle down. Honestly, I didn’t fight it. The tropes about rich kids running away from arranged marriages are for people who don’t like money. Why would I give up my inheritance, my future husband’s inheritance, and the combined power of two empires for “love”? I told my family to schedule all four potential suitors at the same cafe on the same afternoon. One after another. Efficiency is key. … Candidate 1: Leo Sterling. A pale, shy “golden retriever” type who blushed when I looked at him. Not bad. Keep him on the list. Candidate 2: Elias Thorne. Sophisticated, high IQ, and had very nice hands. Also a keeper. Candidate 3: Miles Jaxon. A funny, arrogant guy with dimples. I’ll take him too. Can I just have all of them? I could have a husband, a boyfriend, and a side piece. The sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the cafe. My coffee was cold. Candidate 4 was late. If he didn’t show up in five minutes, he was getting cut from the roster. I opened my phone to harass Hudson. Since my single life was ending, it was only fair he suffered with me. [A donkey must have kicked you in the head.] [Why did you have to mention being naked on live TV?] [Now I’m being forced into an arranged marriage!] [I haven’t even had time to throw a ‘Single and Ready to Mingle’ party yet!] [My life is ending at 26. This is a tragedy.] [Candidate #4 is late. He’s probably a bald guy with bad breath.] [I’m keeping your ten million. Consider it a down payment on my misery.] [Tonight, I’m going to a club and ordering the hottest guys with the best abs. I’m going to be reckless!] [Wait, someone’s here. I can hear his footsteps. He sounds like he wears too much cologne.] The door to the private room opened. A scent of sandalwood and cold air rushed in. I looked up. A pair of long legs in perfectly fitted trousers. A black leather jacket. He held up his phone and waved it at me. On his wrist was a million-dollar watch that reflected the light. He looked down at me, his eyes full of amusement. “You want to use my money to go find ‘reckless excitement’?” “Why don’t you just take your fiancé? I’m much better at being reckless.” …HUDSON?! 08 The sunset turned the sky into a hazy pink. Outside the window, the city lights were starting to twinkle. It would have been romantic if I wasn’t staring at Hudson as he shoveled a croissant into his mouth. “Are you serious? Did you just come here for the free food?” Hudson swallowed a bite of cream-filled pastry. “Who says I’m just here for the food?” I rolled my eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re actually into me.” Hudson leaned back, his eyes roaming over me with a lazy smile. “Look, we have to get married eventually. We’ve known each other since we were kids. It’s better to marry a ‘frenemy’ than a total stranger, right?” Screw you! In kindergarten, he wiped his nose on my backpack. In middle school, he “played barber” and gave me a bald spot. In high school, he hit me in the face with a basketball and sent me to the hospital. In college, he intercepted and burned every love letter sent to me. His crimes were endless. He tossed a folder onto the table, cutting off my internal rant. “Read it.” I opened it. A health report, studio financial statements, personal asset list, and a pre-nuptial agreement. “I’m clean. No diseases,” Hudson said, tapping his fingers on his knee. “And I know you only care about the money. The last page of the pre-nup is for you.” I flipped to the back. [On the basis of equality and mutual consent, Party A (Hudson Vance) agrees to gift the following to Party B (Riley Moore):] 1. Multiple luxury properties. 2. A fleet of vehicles. … [In the event of a divorce, 70% of Party A’s total assets will go to Party B.] Holy… I actually felt my heart skip a beat. Usually, I have dignity, but for this much money? Dignity is for poor people. “What’s the catch?” I asked, trying to stay composed. “There are plenty of girls who would kill to marry you. Like Brianna. She’d probably do it for free. Why me?” Hudson looked out the window. “I want peace. We get married, and we do our own thing. You can take my money and spend it at whatever club you want.” He looked back at me, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. “As for Brianna… I’m looking for a wife, not a charity project. Our ‘visual gap’ alone would make me feel like she’s robbing me.” …His ego was truly legendary. “So? Do we have a deal?” Hudson slid a fountain pen across the table. “Sign now, and the first payment hits your account tonight.” “You talk too much,” I said. I signed it. 09 The autumn rain was light, making the streetlights look like glowing amber globes. Hudson was holding my hand tight as we walked to my parents’ car to say goodbye. He had his coat draped over my shoulders. “You’re overacting,” I hissed. Hudson beamed, nodding to my parents. “If I don’t sell it, how are we going to pull this off?” It had been three days since our deal. Hudson had already charmed both sets of parents into believing he was a man possessed by love. The moment my parents’ Bentley disappeared around the corner, I yanked my hand back. My palm was sweaty. I wasn’t sure if it was mine or his. “This is a business transaction. Let’s keep it professional.” Hudson’s smile faded. “You pay male models to touch their abs. I’m literally giving you millions. Let me hold your hand.” “That’s different!” Suddenly, I felt a sharp cramp in my stomach. I winced. “What’s wrong?” “Your attitude gave me an ulcer,” I snapped. Hudson’s dark eyes scanned me. “It’s your stomach. I told you, skipping meals to fit into those dresses will kill you.” “Are there cameras in my house?!” Hudson sighed. “You’re lazy and you hate exercise, so you just starve yourself. A cat eats more than you did at dinner. Of course your stomach hurts.” I glared at him. “It’s hard being a female lead, okay?!” Hudson sighed and reached into his coat pocket. “Check the pocket.” I reached into the deep pocket of his coat and found a small glass bottle of stomach medicine. I looked at him, surprised. He smirked. “Magic.” 10 Hudson had to go abroad for a month for a project, and I went straight into a new film set. Freedom! This marriage was the best investment I ever made. While the makeup artist was touching up my powder, my assistant, Chloe, ran over and whispered in my ear. “Riley! Someone is here to see you. It’s Noah Sterling. He brought a ton of desserts and Starbucks for the whole crew.” “The director wants you to come say hi.” Noah Sterling? The “golden retriever” suitor from the cafe? I had added him on social media but hadn’t talked to him since the deep-mountain shoot began. But hey, a friend with food is a friend for life. I was starving! Chloe had been forcing me to eat “nutritional meals” (which were just grass and boiled chicken) under the excuse of my “weak stomach.” Box after box of high-end desserts were being handed out to the crew. Noah was wearing a grey cardigan and jeans, looking like a total sweetheart. He saw me and his eyes lit up. “Riley!” He ran over with a small box. “This one is for you. Low sugar.” “Your parents told me you were shooting out here. I had some business nearby, so I thought I’d drop by.” His voice was clear and soothing, like a summer spring. We went into the trailer. “I heard you and Hudson Vance got engaged?” Noah asked, tilting his head. The circle knew, even if the public didn’t yet. I nodded, focused on the mango mousse cake he gave me. Noah’s ears turned red. “I know it’s not official yet… but would you consider me instead?” I choked on my cake. “If a full marriage is too much… I’m willing to be your ‘side-piece’…” WHAT?! Cough, cough! … “Riley, that Noah guy…” “Don’t mention his name to me!” I groaned. I had finally sent the “side-piece” boy away two days ago. I was too exhausted from filming to think about a harem. “But Hudson Vance…” Chloe started. “I don’t want to hear his name either.” Chloe shut up and handed me her iPad. It was the entertainment news. My name was climbing the trends. #RileyMooreCheating# #RileyMooreGoldDigger# #RileyMooreTheSnake#

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Rumor had it that Manhattan’s most elusive billionaire heir had the stamina of an absolute god. My sister and I decided to take turns being his girlfriend, cultivating our magic by absorbing his excess vitality through physical intimacy. One day, this gorgeous heir asked my sister: “What are snakes most afraid of? Arsenic or sulfur?” I thought our cover was blown. I immediately packed our bags, faked our deaths that very night, and dragged my sister running back to the deep woods where we belong. In the middle of the night, from my fresh grave, I smelled the heavenly scent of fried chicken. I popped my head out of the dirt for a bite. Behind me, two cold chuckles rang out. I turned to see two identical, impossibly handsome men staring down at me, their gazes icy. One said, “Bro, which one is this? I honestly can’t tell them apart.” The other smirked and said, “That one is mine. Just last night, she told me that when she died, I better leave an entire Popeyes family meal combo on her grave.” 01 My name is Tessa. Half a year ago, my sister Sienna and I realized our magical cultivation was too weak to maintain our human forms for long periods. So, we hunted down a high-quality human male—Weston Sinclair, the golden boy of New York high society—to dual-cultivate with and boost our magic. Mon-Wed-Fri: I cultivated with him. Tue-Thu-Sat: Sienna did. Sundays were Weston’s days off. We would feed him raw oyster shooters, maca root, and premium protein smoothies to help him recharge. To avoid blowing our cover, we used a shared fake name around him: Tessie. I have to admit. Weston was truly built different. Unlike traditional men who needed a cooldown period, he was ready to go all day, every day. Him! I’d use him in the morning! My sister would use him in the afternoon! I’d use him again before dinner, and my sister would take the night shift! One man doing the work of four. And, he was incredibly generous. If Sienna or I lingered our gaze on a designer bag for even a second, or casually mentioned liking something… By the next morning, it would be delivered to our penthouse. In just six months, our bank account balance had hit eight figures. We had so many luxury goods we didn’t know what to do with them. Cartier bracelets, solid gold bangles… they were practically spilling out of our closets. Sometimes, when Weston wasn’t around, I’d turn back into my snake form. I’d slither right through them. Playing ring toss. Wearing ten diamond bracelets at once, looking absolutely fabulous. I made Sienna take pictures and post them on my Instagram Close Friends story. The other wild snakes were dying of jealousy: [Tessa! Who’s your sugar daddy?! You’re living the absolute dream!] Of course, Weston was blocked from seeing those stories. 02 Today was Saturday. I had bought us VIP tickets for an exclusive hot pot place downtown. I was just waiting for Sienna to get home so we could head out. Finally, she walked through the door. I grabbed my Prada bag, eager to leave. But she looked pale. Terrified, even. I asked, “What’s wrong, sis? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Sienna practically ripped open the fridge, grabbed a chilled coconut water, and chugged the entire thing. Once she caught her breath, she said: “Tessa, guess what Weston asked me today?” I thought about it. “Did he ask if we wanted a yacht? A few days ago I told him I wanted a private yacht off the coast of Monaco to watch the night skyline. He nodded and said he’d arrange it.” Sienna shook her head frantically. “No! I wish it was that…” She took a deep breath, still looking traumatized. “He asked me, what are snakes most afraid of? Arsenic or sulfur? “Oh my god, Tessa, you have no idea. At the time, I was so excited. I was unboxing this new leather whip I bought online, fantasizing about how I was going to use it on him. “And then he drops that question! It killed the mood instantly. “Then, he looks at me all confused and asks, ‘Mommy, why aren’t you whipping me?’” I fell completely silent. “He called you Mommy? “And told you to whip him?” Sienna gave me a weird look. “No, Tessa, your priorities are totally messed up right now. “Shouldn’t the focal point be that our identities are compromised?! Shouldn’t we be packing our bags to flee the state?!” I looked at her, dead serious. “No, Sienna, listen to me! “Last week, I playfully swatted him with an iPhone charger cable, and he…” He instantly pinned me to the mattress and tied my wrists. He leaned in and growled, “Baby, do you need to be taught another lesson?” That night, he tormented me so thoroughly I almost went to the afterlife to meet our Great-great-great-grandmother, the Serpent Goddess. Now it was Sienna’s turn to be utterly bewildered. “Huh?! Weston is that aggressive with you? “I always have to initiate! He’s incredibly submissive and obedient with me. “Oh my god. Does he have a split personality disorder?” I slapped my thigh in a panic. “Don’t overthink it right now, sis! Let’s just get to the hot pot place! The 9-to-5 crowd is about to get off work, and there’s going to be a massive line!” Sienna: ? 03 Once we were safely seated at the hot pot restaurant. Sienna and I started gossiping about Weston again. The more we talked, the weirder it got. Her Weston was like a golden retriever. My Weston was like a dominant alpha wolf. What the hell was going on? I decided to make a post on Reddit to ask for advice: [What are the features of a Switch?] Helpful netizens quickly replied: [OP, do you mean the Nintendo Switch OLED or the Lite? The screens and battery life are totally different.] [Are you deciding between an Xbox and a Switch? I have both, I highly recommend the Switch.] Sienna replied from my phone: “No, guys, the switch I’m talking about isn’t that kind of switch. I’m talking about that kind of switch.” The internet was confused: [I don’t get it. Isn’t a Switch just a gaming console?] Forget it. They weren’t getting it. I deleted the post. I was boiling my crab sticks when I suddenly got an iMessage from Weston: [Just finished my board meeting. What are you doing?] I reluctantly put down my half-eaten crab stick. I took a picture of the bubbling, spicy hot pot and sent it to him. The juicy beef meatballs and tofu pouches were perfectly cooked, bobbing in the chili oil. The table was covered in plates of sliced ribeye, quail eggs, shrimp paste, and veggies waiting to be tossed in. Next to my dipping sauce, I even had a massive bowl of vanilla shaved ice. Weston replied: [A meal for four? Eating so little today? Are you upset?] I bit my chopsticks, my cheeks puffing out in anger. [What are you talking about! I am not a little piglet!] I was a Hognose snake. Not a little piglet. Weston: [Apple Pay Transfer: $52,000] [Got it, little piglet. Eat up, I have to get back to work.] Looking at the glowing golden transfer notification. I couldn’t help but smile, sending back a cute, obedient sticker. Sienna was curious. “Tessa, what are you grinning at?” I showed her my phone. “Weston just sent us funding! Sis, is this enough food? If not, we can order another round.” Sienna froze, her boba straw slipping from her lips. “Wait. You have Weston’s number?” I nodded. “Yeah. We added each other yesterday.” Sienna looked shocked. “Then why did he force me to add his Snapchat today? He complained that we’ve been dating for six months and I never gave him my socials. “Look. See for yourself.” Sienna handed me her phone. I stared at the profile picture and froze. “This is so weird, sis. Your Weston… his profile picture and username are completely different from my Weston. “Mine uses a black-and-white photo of him in a tailored suit. Yours uses an anime boy.” But what truly blew my mind… Her Weston texted so much. [Mommy, Mommy, what are you doing?] [I miss you. Want cuddles. Want kisses.] [Why aren’t you replying? Are you with another guy?] [What? You found another puppy?] [Is he more obedient than me? Does he love you more? I don’t believe it.] […] Whereas my Weston only ever sent: [?] [Answer the phone.] [Transfer.] [Hm.] [Busy.] [I miss you too.] Sienna and I stared at each other in absolute horror. There was no way one man could exhibit such drastically different personalities, even if we acted slightly differently around him. Half an hour later. After anxiously finishing the last slice of ribeye in the pot. I made a solemn announcement: “Sis. We need to formulate a plan. We’re going to fake our deaths and run.” 04 Sienna agreed with both hands and feet. We had so much money now. Building an ultra-luxurious mansion back in the deep woods of our ancestral mountain would be a piece of cake. But the problem was… How could we pull off a flawless fake death? If we just disappeared… Weston would definitely track us down. And he was incredibly petty. Once, I secretly took a sip of his protein shake. He insisted on “drinking” it back from my mouth. I told him I already swallowed it all! He still aggressively forced his way in. So I was genuinely terrified. What if he got so furious he set our ancestral forest on fire? Finally, we came up with the perfect plan. Tomorrow was the day Weston made his annual pilgrimage to the mountain temple to pray. He had already promised to take me with him. When the time came… Sienna would disguise herself as a psychic and block our path. She would point at me and prophesize that I was going to drop dead. Once we got home. I would start playing dead. Playing dead was literally what our species—the Hognose snake—did best! Weston would absolutely believe it. Once he buried me… I would dig my way out of the dirt and run! Hehe. Flawless! 05 We stayed up all night buying a psychic costume and rehearsing the script to fool Weston. Everything was ready; we just needed to execute! But I never in my wildest dreams imagined… The place Weston was going to pray… Was Whisperwood Peak. Our literal ancestral home. There was indeed a temple on that mountain. It enshrined the Serpent Goddess. My Great-great-great-great-grandmother. But… My Great-great-great-great-grandmother never actually granted human wishes. She explicitly told us she only built that temple because she wanted humans to think she was a badass. That was it. Because I felt incredibly guilty, I was unusually quiet the entire car ride up. Weston, who was busy reviewing corporate files on his iPad, glanced over at me. “You’re acting strange today.” I stiffened my back. “How am I strange?” Weston tapped his screen. “Normally, you can’t go sixty seconds without talking. Today, you haven’t spoken a single word in exactly 21 minutes and 31 seconds. “What’s on your mind?” Terrified he would see the guilt written all over my face. I quickly buried my face straight into his lap. “I was just thinking about you.” Weston sucked in a sharp breath. When he spoke, his tone was slightly strained. It sounded like a mix of gritted teeth and… something else. “Could you maybe not think about me while holding that specific position?” Belatedly realizing what my face was pressed against, I jerked my head up. I scrambled to the opposite corner of the backseat. Oh my god. So embarrassing. I exhaled onto the car window and drew circles on the fogged glass. I hate you, Weston. Drawing circles, drawing circles. I curse you to step in dog poop today. Ugh. 06 The weather on the mountain was terrible. A misty, freezing drizzle. Weston wanted me to wait for him at the base of the mountain. Panicking, I blurted out: “No! I have to go too!” Weston raised an eyebrow, looking at me with amusement. “Since when are you this athletic?” I marched ahead with wide strides, trying to cover up my anxiety. “I just want to hurry up and ask the Goddess to bless you, is that a crime?!” The man behind me fell silent for a moment. Then he let out a low chuckle. “Alright.” Weston caught up and took my hand. For the rest of the climb, every time we hit a steep step… He would stop and carefully help me up. I lost count of how many stone steps we climbed. I was exhausted, my hands on my hips, panting heavily. Great-great-great-grandmother, please don’t blame me for never visiting. You built this damn temple way, way, way too high up! Just as I lost the energy to even complain in my head. I finally… Saw Sienna. She was wearing a mystical-looking robe, tiny round sunglasses, and two fake mustache strips glued above her lip. Exactly as we rehearsed. She leaped out from the bushes, blocking our path. “Halt, young travelers!” Weston instantly pulled me behind him, his brow furrowing. Just as he was about to interrogate her. Sienna beat him to the punch. Pointing directly at me, she yelled: “I have consulted the cosmos! Tomorrow, she will… she will…” She froze mid-sentence. She forgot her lines. She turned around and started frantically digging through her wide, flowing sleeves. Clearly searching for her cheat sheet. Watching her fumble like an idiot, I was terrified Weston would see right through the act. My heart was in my throat, so I started violently fake-coughing. “Cough! Cough! Cough!” Thankfully, it worked. Weston’s attention snapped back to me, turning around to check on me. “Forget it!” Sienna, apparently pushed to her breaking point, decided to just wing it. She yelled at the top of her lungs, “Whatever! She’s gonna kick the bucket tomorrow!” Hearing Sienna say that. My vision went dark. I found out later… The piece of paper she had stuffed in her sleeve wasn’t her script. It was our receipt from the hot pot restaurant yesterday. She left the house in such a rush, she grabbed the wrong piece of paper. 07 Hearing her words, Weston’s entire body went rigid. He whipped his head around to yell at the “psychic,” but she was already gone. She had oiled her soles and bolted, leaving nothing but a tiny speck of a silhouette retreating into the mist. Weston entirely lost his mood to pray at the temple. Without a word, he scooped me up into his arms and carried me all the way back down the mountain. On the drive back, he murmured softly to me: “Be good. Don’t listen to that lunatic’s nonsense.” I nodded obediently, but looking up, I saw how violently tense his jawline was. Seeing him desperately trying to keep it together, a massive wave of guilt crashed over me. Was I… Was I wrong for tricking him like this? Spit, spit, spit! He literally asked if snakes were more afraid of arsenic or sulfur! Why was I feeling bad for him?! My sister’s and my lives were on the line here! … Fearing I was depressed, Weston took me to the VIP lounge of a luxury mall. He bought me a mountain of designer bags and jewelry before finally taking me home. Back at the penthouse. After my shower, I lay in bed, letting my imagination run wild. I was about to live the fabulous life of a rich, single snake! I was going to drive a Ferrari! Live in a mansion! Hire the hottest male models in the world to serve me grapes! Just thinking about it. I couldn’t stop grinning. I rolled back and forth across the king-sized bed, trying to muffle my giggles. Right at that moment, Weston walked in from his study. He leaned against the doorframe, watching me. “Has anyone ever told you…” he paused. “When you do that, you look exactly like an idiot.” My laughter abruptly stopped. I instantly buried myself under the duvet, leaving only my eyes peeking out to glare at him. “Hmph!” He sighed fondly, pulled back the covers, and ruffled my hair. “Not an idiot. Not an idiot.” “My baby isn’t an idiot at all.” Alright. It was about time. Time to put on the performance of a lifetime. I clutched my stomach, instantly shifting gears, wailing with a weak, trembling voice: “It hurts!” I hyperventilated, acting like I was on the brink of my last breath. Weston was completely terrified. He panicked, leaning over and scooping me into his arms, his voice cracking: “Don’t be scared, baby. We’re going to the hospital right now!” I seized the opportunity to grab his collar, shaking my head weakly. “No… it’s too late… Weston.” I forced my breathing to sound ragged and shallow. “I think… I’m actually going to die… Before I go… can you… promise me two things?” The fake death spell was about to kick in. Once it did, all my vital signs would temporarily vanish. Not even the most advanced medical equipment would detect a pulse. Weston’s eyes instantly turned red. His arms tightened around me like a vice. “Stop talking nonsense!” I ignored him and kept going. “Weston… for the sake of everything we’ve shared… just do these two things for me.” “First… bury me on Whisperwood Peak… the feng shui is good there.” “Second…” I paused, acting as if I was using the absolute last ounce of my strength. “Can you… on my grave… leave an entire Popeyes family meal combo?” Before I even finished the sentence. The arms holding me went completely stiff. Weston froze like a statue. 08 As for what happened next. My consciousness was already fading. I vaguely remember Weston sprinting through the penthouse and down to the private garage, carrying me. Sitting in the driver’s seat of the Maybach was a man wearing a black mask. His eyes and brow bone… looked 90% identical to Weston’s. His gaze landed on me for a split second. “Bro, why is your face so pale? Did she actually scare you?” What? Weston had a brother?! I was dying of curiosity. But I couldn’t hold on anymore. The fake death debuff was fully online. So sleepy. Time to die for a bit. Goodnight. … I don’t know how much time passed. My consciousness slowly returned. Freezing rain was hitting my snout. Achoo. So cold! I wiggled my body and realized I was already back in my little snake form. Weston’s burial skills were absolute garbage! He didn’t even cover my nose! And the dirt was so thin. One shake and it all fell off! I twisted twice. And successfully slithered out of my grave. Sniff sniff. Smells so good. So good. It’s the smell of fried chicken! Following the scent, I slithered over. I used my snout to push open the paper bag and jammed my whole head inside. Oh my god. It was still warm. Fresh out of the fryer. I took a bite. So crispy and tender. Delicious! Amazing! I put my entire heart and soul into eating. Completely forgetting a massive flaw in the plan. The original plan was… Sienna was supposed to be waiting here to dig me out. Because after using the fake death spell… For the next 72 hours, I wouldn’t be able to turn back into a human. I was incredibly vulnerable. But she was nowhere to be found. Just as I was lost in the ecstasy of fried chicken. Feeling like I was floating on cloud nine. Two cold chuckles echoed from behind me. “Heh.” My body locked up. My tail curled into a tight little spiral. Trembling, I slowly poked my head out of the paper bag. Only to see two identical, impossibly handsome men glaring down at me with icy stares. The one on the left, wearing a black hoodie and a silver chain, crossed his arms and tapped his shoulder. “Bro, which one is this? I honestly can’t tell them apart.” The one on the right, wearing a tailored suit, stood with one hand in his pocket, his face thunderous. “That one is mine. Just last night, she literally told me that when she died, I better leave a Popeyes family meal combo on her grave.” The one on the left laughed. “Haha, I told you. This greedy little snake is definitely not my baby.” The one on the right looked annoyed. “Who are you calling greedy?” “My bad, bro.” I was so terrified I coiled myself into a three-tiered donut. Save me. Why were there two Westons?!

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “404107”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The killers were caught quickly. But the mastermind was practically untouchable. Not only did he walk free, but he even sent people to threaten the victims’ grandparents. Driven to absolute despair, the old man knocked on the door of my flower shop. The very next day, the police came looking for me. Because the only thing left of the mastermind—the heir to the Vance dynasty—was his severed head, casually discarded at the entrance of the police precinct. 01 When the police knocked on the glass door of my flower shop, I was changing the water for the displays. These flowers were incredibly delicate. One moment of carelessness, and they would wilt completely. I meticulously plucked a few dried leaves from a stem before gesturing for the officers to let themselves in. I recognized the man leading the pair. His name was Carter Hayes. He was the detective in charge of the horrific case that had been dominating the local news for weeks. I had to admit, Detective Hayes was a gentleman. He stood quietly to the side, not saying a word, waiting for me to finish my work. “Welcome to the Golden Acacia Florist. Would you like a bouquet of golden acacias, Detective?” I offered him an apologetic smile for making them wait, lifting a bundle of bright, golden-yellow flowers in my hands. The golden acacias were blooming beautifully, radiating life, yet Hayes inexplicably furrowed his brow at the sight of them. He steadied himself, his probing gaze landing squarely on me. “No need to be nervous, ma’am. We’re just conducting some routine inquiries. Do you happen to have any impression of the Henderson family who lives at the end of the alley?” The image of a lively, adorable little girl surfaced in my mind. She was so innocent, brimming with life. There was a mirror in the flower shop. In it, I could clearly see the corners of my mouth slowly ticking upward into a smile, before dropping inch by inch into an icy flatline. I heard my own voice, sharp and entirely unfriendly, shoot back. “Didn’t they say the case was closed? What else is there for you to ask?” 02 A few months ago, the little granddaughter of the Henderson family at the end of the alley went missing. Her name was Lily. Because her family was extremely poor, Lily was mature for her age, yet she miraculously managed to hold onto the vibrant energy of a child. Everyone living on Acacia Alley loved teasing her. The neighbors were always smiling and stuffing all kinds of snacks into her little hands. Every time, Lily’s face would turn bright red. She would politely thank them before skipping away to a corner where she thought no one was watching. In this impoverished, grime-covered alley where the air was perpetually thick with despair and anxiety, that little girl was a rare sanctuary for everyone’s hearts. So, when news broke that Lily was missing, the entire neighborhood was terrified. Everyone rallied together, searching every possible nook and cranny in the area. At first, the investigation went smoothly. Her teacher said Lily left school with her classmates, so we called in her friends. The little girls, who were close with Lily, pointed out the exact spot where they last saw her. There was a small diner nearby, and its security camera pointed right at that intersection. The footage dutifully revealed the truth: at that exact spot, a black SUV had snatched Lily off the street. The license plate was crystal clear. With the police cooperating, the clues unraveled flawlessly. But when the furious neighbors and the police kicked down the doors of that lavish, suburban mansion… the scene inside traumatized every single person present. A group of trust-fund frat boys, black-out drunk and high out of their minds, were sprawled haphazardly across the living room. Some were still mumbling deliriously. They looked demonic, yet they were dressed in designer clothes. It seemed whatever repressed, animalistic urges they harbored had just been violently unleashed. It made people sick to their stomachs. And Lily… was lying on a massive, rectangular dining table. Her tiny body was covered in dark purple bruises, with some unidentified, vile liquid dripping off her skin onto the mahogany wood. Lily was dead. And before she died, she had suffered inhuman torture. Every person in that room saw red. The police stuck to the rules and stopped the crowd from lynching them right there, but the way they dragged those boys out by their hair and threw them into the cruisers was far from gentle. The aftermath aligned with exactly what the public wanted. The media blew the story up. The city was in an uproar. Millions of people took to the internet, demanding the death penalty for these monsters. The case was handed over to the district court, and the prosecutor filed the charges. The chain of evidence was airtight: witnesses, physical evidence, and even the DNA of at least three different men extracted from Lily’s body. The initial verdict? Death penalty for all of them. People wept. People cheered. They mourned the loss of a little girl’s life, but celebrated that the long arm of the law had finally delivered justice. Lily had been abandoned by her parents at birth and lived solely with her elderly grandparents. After the verdict, a man in a tailored suit showed up at the Hendersons’ house at the end of the alley. He offered the old couple a massive sum of money, asking them to sign a letter of forgiveness for the court. It was, undeniably, a life-changing amount of money. Enough to ensure the old couple would never have to worry about a single bill for the rest of their lives. But Mr. Henderson firmly rejected it. Mrs. Henderson chased the man out of the house with a broom. The neighbor to the east “accidentally” splashed a bucket of dirty mop water on him. The neighbor to the west “accidentally” dropped a raw egg from a second-story window. By the time that well-dressed corporate lawyer fled the alley, he was a total mess. His expensive suit was covered in grime, but he still screamed back at them, swearing they would pay for this. No one took it seriously. Until everything completely flipped. 03 “What do you mean the footage is gone?!” Mr. Henderson was in his seventies, his beard entirely white. Right now, he was shaking uncontrollably from sheer rage. Stan, the middle-aged owner of the diner, nervously rubbed his greasy hands on his apron, refusing to meet the old man’s eyes. Mrs. Henderson trembled as she raised her hand to slap him, but an apologetic police officer stepped in to hold her back. “The camera… it just happened to break those few days. All the footage is lost…” Stan peeked out from behind the officer’s back. Disgust was plastered across Detective Hayes’s face. The police despised people like this, but their duty required them to stand between the two parties. No security footage meant a critical link in the chain of evidence was gone. And a voice in the back of their heads told them this was only the beginning. The color drained from the old couple’s faces. They gripped Hayes’s hands, their frail fingers digging in desperately, looking for a pillar of hope. “Detective… those animals are still going to get what’s coming to them, right?” Hayes didn’t know how to answer. He nodded in silence, unsure if he was trying to convince them or himself. But even though Hayes stayed quiet, someone else spoke up. Stan clenched his jaw, hesitating before blurting it out: “You guys have no idea what kind of titans are backing those kids! Just let it go. Lily is gone, but you two are still alive. Think about yourselves for once.” Everyone present knew Stan wasn’t a bad guy. He was just trying to give them a brutal reality check, but they still glared at him furiously. Obviously, the Hendersons weren’t going to take his advice. They insisted on appealing. Even if it cost them their lives, they were going to get justice for Lily. Then, things took a horrific turn. Physical evidence mysteriously vanished. Witnesses changed their statements. The once-airtight chain of evidence was systematically erased. Security cameras across the district conveniently malfunctioned. The black SUV that took Lily turned into a pile of ash in a junkyard fire outside city limits. The parents of the kids who walked home with Lily forced their children to keep their mouths shut. They wouldn’t say a single word. Even the schoolteacher changed her tune. She claimed Lily wandered off alone, telling the press that Lily was actually a “manipulative, deceitful little girl” who liked seeking attention from older men. Overnight, the narrative shifted. The internet sleuths who had once championed the old couple were hijacked by paid troll farms and powerful influencers. They turned their vicious abuse toward the victims. “These little angels know exactly what they’re doing, age doesn’t matter.” “Told you guys not to jump the gun. Look at the plot twist! Y’all are clowns.” “Honestly, good riddance. Disgusting kid.” Many people in the alley began receiving threats. Only poor people lived on Acacia Alley. To them, losing a job was a catastrophe worse than death. So, one by one, they began distancing themselves from the Hendersons. They avoided them like they were homeless beggars on the street, or carrying a plague. With looks of pity mixed with utter revulsion. The final straw that crushed the old couple was the appellate court’s ruling. The higher court closed the case. The new verdict: two of the boys received life sentences, three got ten years, and the rest were acquitted. Among the acquitted were the men whose DNA was found on Lily. They were the true masterminds, yet they completely slipped through the cracks of the law. Even the ones who did get sentenced could easily use “good behavior” to get their time reduced. Once the heat died down, they would be right back to their lavish, billionaire lifestyles. A massive, invisible hand was toying with the Hendersons. When the lawyer tried to bribe and threaten him, Mr. Henderson didn’t break. When Stan tried to talk sense into him, Mr. Henderson didn’t break. But now, his friends were being threatened and hurt, reluctantly abandoning him. His wife had been threatened multiple times. Just last week, a speeding car “accidentally” hopped the curb while she was buying groceries, nearly crippling her. She was currently lying in a hospital bed, comatose. The windows of his house were maliciously smashed in. Red paint was splashed across his front door. Unrelenting phone calls flooded his landline at all hours, hurling unspeakable abuse. The police tried to help, but arresting the thugs doing the vandalism didn’t solve the problem. They couldn’t touch the billionaire dynasties pulling the strings. Mr. Henderson was terrified, but he refused to let it go. This simple old man, who had lived an honest life, couldn’t understand why bad people weren’t facing their karma. “God is blind,” he wept. But the mastermind, Tristan Vance, just looked down at him with supreme arrogance, like a giant staring at an insignificant ant. “She was just a piece of street trash. She died, so what? And you really thought you could sue me?” “I’m not just going to ruin them. I’m going to crush every single person around you, one by one, until you’re on your knees crying and begging for mercy.” 04 He was so close. Truly, Mr. Henderson was inches away from giving up. But someone whispered to him: Go to the flower shop at the end of the alley. Ask for a bouquet of golden acacias. Someone there will help you. And so, the white-haired old man stepped into my flower shop for the first time in his life. He didn’t come to buy a rose for a sweetheart. He came to buy justice for a victim. I smiled and handed him a bouquet of brilliant golden flowers. It was like handing him a torch in the dead of night—faint, but burning with unwavering resolve. The next day, a news broadcast sent shockwaves through the entire city. Tristan Vance was dead. The heir to the untouchable Vance dynasty. The monster who treated lives like playthings. The mastermind behind the case. He was dead. His head had been sawed off, stuffed into a cheap black trash bag, and casually dumped on the steps of the police precinct. A passing sanitation worker thought it was just regular trash. The moment he picked it up, the bizarre weight and shape terrified him so badly he fell backwards onto the pavement. The bag dropped from his hands. The head rolled out. Tristan Vance’s bloodshot, terrified eyes stared directly at the front doors of the precinct. That same mouth—the one that had spewed lies at press conferences, the one that had viciously cursed and threatened the old couple—was slightly ajar, as if he had died begging for mercy. As for his body, the police still haven’t found it. A death this gruesome instantly made everyone think of a revenge killing. And everyone knew exactly who his biggest enemy was—old Mr. Henderson at the end of Acacia Alley. And I… was the only person Mr. Henderson had spoken to the day before Tristan died. That was why the police came looking for me. But I was just a humble florist. All I did was ask an old man if he wanted to buy some golden acacias. What could I possibly know? I feigned a look of complete bewilderment, smiling faintly as I looked at Hayes. “So, Detective Hayes, are you suspecting I killed him?” Hayes and his partner froze. They clearly didn’t expect me to be so blunt. “No, we’re just following protocol. We have to conduct routine inquiries,” Hayes replied gently. They had zero evidence pointing to me, so their attitude was exceptionally polite. I nodded and answered all their questions with absolute transparency. There were cameras inside the flower shop. They proved that at the time of Tristan’s death, I was in the shop the entire time. The little interlude ended quickly. Hayes led his men out of my store. Right before he walked out, Hayes seemed to sense something. He whipped his head around, locking eyes with my beaming smile. He hesitated for a second before saying, “If you think of anything that might be relevant, please let us know.” I nodded, my smile deepening. “Of course.” 05 Tristan was dead, and the Vance family was practically tearing the city apart in their rage. Dripping in diamonds, Mrs. Vance screamed her lungs out inside the police station, her heavily botoxed face twisting into a hideous snarl. “That little piece of trash died, so what?! How can you even compare her to my son?! If you don’t find the killer, every single one of you will lose your jobs!” No one dared talk back to her. For a titan like the Vance family, getting a few working-class people fired was child’s play, even if they were cops. In the face of people like them, the so-called law and its rules were nothing more than blank pieces of paper, things they could trample over at will. I saw a young rookie cop in the corner clenching his fists. I gently patted Mr. Henderson’s trembling hand, comforting him. I didn’t know if he was shaking because Tristan was dead, or because he was enraged by Mrs. Vance’s words. His face was a swirl of complex emotions. After a long while, he just let out a heavy sigh. However, compared to the Vance family and Mr. Henderson, there were two people reacting much more violently to the news. Bryce Dalton and Spencer Croft. The other two masterminds. Ever since Tristan’s head was found, those two had been on the verge of a total psychological breakdown. They were even starting to show signs of clinical paranoia. The two rich kids cried and begged their families to pressure the police for 24/7 protection. It made life absolute hell for Hayes and his team. A few days later, Hayes showed up at my flower shop sporting massive dark circles under his eyes. The normally handsome detective looked haggard and miserable. He claimed he was just “browsing,” while his eyes darted around analyzing the shop. I knew Hayes hadn’t dropped his suspicion of me. He was like a bloodhound that had caught a whiff of copper, casually probing his prey while pretending not to care. After a while, Hayes seemed to deflate. He started making small talk, subtly steering the conversation toward the case and complaining about the billionaires breathing down his neck. “We were finally making a breakthrough, and they just keep rushing us. They’ve had us working back-to-back shifts for days. That’s why I look like hell.” As he spoke, he was observing me through his peripheral vision, looking for even the slightest micro-expression on my face. I saw right through his little trap, but I had no intention of calling him out. I just smiled and poured him a cup of floral tea. Petals swirled in the hot water, creating ripples against the glass. “There’s no poison in this, is there?” Hayes suddenly blurted out. Before I could answer, he laughed and took a sip. I shook my head, putting on the perfect facade of a terrified, law-abiding citizen. “How could I dare? Poison a police officer?” Hayes gave a half-smile. “You wouldn’t dare touch a cop. But you’d dare touch a bunch of spoiled rich kids, wouldn’t you?” It sounded like a joke, but it was a loaded question. “Detective Hayes, do you know why they call this place Acacia Alley?” I didn’t answer his question. Instead, I looked directly into his exhausted eyes. Failing to find the crack in my armor he was looking for, disappointment flashed across his face. He lost interest in my riddle. Right on cue, his phone rang. He shot me an apologetic look and rushed out the door. I stood at the entrance, watching my customer hurry away. An inexplicable emotion bubbled up in my chest. Like admiring a struggling prey, or pitying a crying child. 06 Just two days later, right as the sun began to set, Hayes came charging back to the flower shop. He looked terrible. His eyes were bloodshot. He looked like a starving wolf staring me down. I knew exactly why. Bryce Dalton and Spencer Croft were dead. They were found in an abandoned hospital out in the suburbs. Their bodies were hooked up to dozens of IV tubes, covered in an impossible number of needle marks. It was as if an innocent little girl had been playing a game with them. Playing doctor and patient. The remaining frat boys were instantly paralyzed with fear. Some even voluntarily pleaded guilty just so they could hide in maximum-security prison. The titans backing them were furious. They felt their absolute authority was being challenged. On one hand, they hired private investigators. On the other, they doubled down on pressuring the police. But the killer had worked flawlessly. They found absolutely nothing. The evidence the police managed to dig up was pitiful. As if it were a sick joke, the security cameras in the relevant areas broke down at the perfect times. Some were smashed by neighborhood kids playing with rocks. Some were unplugged by shop owners closing up for the night. Some simply short-circuited from old age. In the end, the police got nothing from the footage. Their only real “victory” was forcing a struggling widow to pay for the camera her kid accidentally broke. Of course, looking at a single mother trying to survive, Hayes didn’t have the heart to press charges. Other clues vanished due to a million fragmented, coincidental reasons. The only real leads the police had came from the corpses. The coroner pointed out that decapitating a human being was not an easy task. The subsequent IV insertions on the other two boys were incredibly difficult. The needles intentionally bypassed major arteries to ensure both boys remained completely conscious and alive for the duration of the ordeal. To execute something with that level of precision, the killer had to have a deep medical background. Most likely an experienced surgeon or nurse. The killer used professional medical skills to make those little monsters die slowly in excruciating, hopeless agony. It was an incredibly personal revenge. There were plenty of doctors in the city, but none of them had a grudge against the frat boys. None of them were friends with Mr. Henderson. Furthermore, Hayes’s investigation revealed that every single medical professional in the district had rock-solid alibis. Not a single doctor was unaccounted for during the estimated time of death. The trail had gone cold again. But Hayes, like that stubborn bloodhound, firmly believed I was connected to it. “Tell me. The killer has done all of this… what exactly do they want?” I smiled, casually organizing the leftover flowers and wrapping paper from the day. “Maybe they just want the truth to come to light. They want the innocent vindicated, and they want every single monster to face the karma they deserve.” What a naive thought, Hayes wanted to say. You have no idea what kind of titans you’re up against. But thinking about what had happened over the last few days, he swallowed the words. His faith in the system was beginning to crack. After a long pause, Hayes managed to squeeze out a question. “If you were the killer… what would you do next?” He looked desperate, almost like he was begging the mastermind for a hint. But I knew this was just an act. He was using vulnerability to bait me into slipping up. I didn’t know why Hayes was so convinced I was the killer, but I was more than happy to play along. It was highly entertaining. I gave him an innocent smile and gently shook my head. “I’m not the killer. How would I know?” Watching the disappointment wash over him, I slowly continued, like a cat toying with a cornered mouse. “But if I were the killer, maybe you should start worrying about the Vance family’s corporate headquarters. Their malls. Their iconic skyscrapers.” Horror struck Hayes’s eyes. He hadn’t realized the targets would be that massive. He opened his mouth to shout something— BOOM. A deafening explosion echoed in the distance. That towering landmark. The commercial epicenter that symbolized the absolute wealth and authority of the elites. It was instantly engulfed in smoke, fire, and the sound of screaming sirens. I just stood there, smiling, looking exactly like I was greeting a customer at the door. 07 I was hauled into the precinct. Everyone stared at me with pure disgust. As if I were the unforgivable monster. But didn’t the real monsters just die? Thinking about that, I couldn’t help but smile again. They locked me in an interrogation room. A blinding light was aimed directly at my face. Hayes sat across from me, his expression lethal. Beside him sat a kind-looking, older detective, who spoke with a gentle tone. “Miss, if you confess to your methods and the details of the crimes now, we can still fight for a lighter sentence for you.” I helplessly spread my hands. “I’m more than happy to cooperate with you, officers. But I really didn’t do any of this.” “I have cameras in my shop, and I have alibis from my customers. Whatever you need, I can provide.” Business had been booming lately. I barely had a moment of free time. I hadn’t been alone for more than thirty consecutive minutes in weeks. I didn’t know the exact time of death the coroner established for those three demons, but I guessed my shop was full of people. Hayes slammed his hand onto the metal table, shouting his accusation. “You’re still lying! The cameras show you left your shop for a period of time on the day of the murder.” “So, please tell me, busy florist. Where did you take a cab to for those exact thirty minutes, and what exactly were you doing?!” But Hayes was destined to be disappointed. “Business has been too good. I ran out of wrapping paper, so I went to restock.” I answered him earnestly, not breaking eye contact. “No, let me tell you what happened,” Hayes said, flashing a victorious smirk. “You took a cab to a location near where Tristan Vance was staying. You caught his eye, lured him to a secluded area, and killed him.” Hayes pulled out his phone and played a piece of security footage. In the video, Tristan Vance suddenly noticed something off-camera. A sleazy, predatory grin spread across his face, and he walked out of the frame. The footage was blurry, and the angle was terrible, but it was the best the police could find. Later, the police found thousands of photos of teenage girls in Tristan’s room. It was obvious he had an absolute, sick obsession with girls of a certain demographic. And I happened to fit that exact demographic. That alone wasn’t enough to pin me down, but then they dug deeper. They found out that I had spent several months institutionalized in a psychiatric hospital a few years back. That meant it was highly possible I was the killer with the medical background. However, that hospital had since been shut down, leaving no records. My attending psychiatrist had passed away. There was no way to verify exactly what I had learned or experienced there. So, Hayes was just trying to bluff a confession out of me. I just smiled and asked politely. “What’s the matter, Detective Hayes? Do you solve cases by writing fiction now? Show me the evidence.” The truth was, even if they investigated the cab ride, the only conclusion they would find was that I had, in fact, gone to buy wrapping paper. A phone rang, interrupting Hayes just as he was about to explode. He answered it, glared at me, and hurriedly left the interrogation room, swapping in a rookie cop to take his place. I knew exactly why Hayes was so busy lately. The corporations owned by the Vance, Dalton, and Croft dynasties were experiencing relentless “accidents.” Countless employees were resigning en masse. Stock prices were plummeting. The police were running themselves ragged trying to manage the chaos.

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The room was pitch black. I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him. “Do you like this lace set? The one you were looking at last time?” I pulled my boyfriend’s hand, pressing it against my chest. Suddenly, his body went rigid. His breathing hitched, growing erratic. I thought he was just being shy, so I forcefully pushed him back onto the sofa. My hand trailed down the hard ridges of his abs. But the very next second, my wrist was seized in a vice-like grip. “Who are you? What exactly do you think you’re doing?” The voice was deep, crisp, and aristocratic—and cold enough to freeze hell over. Reality crashed over me. That was not my boyfriend. And worse… that voice sounded terrifyingly familiar. It sounded exactly like my company’s aloof, notoriously untouchable CEO. 1 Click. The wall switch was flipped, and the room was flooded with light. Staring at the devastatingly handsome, fiercely cold face sculpted like a Greek god in front of me, I felt the blood rush all the way to the tips of my ears. I was still straddling his lap. One thin strap of my lingerie had slipped down my shoulder. I scrambled off him in an absolute panic. While putting as much distance between myself and Alexander Sterling as humanly possible, I snatched my coat off the floor and wrapped it tightly around my body. Today was my one-year anniversary with my boyfriend, Liam. I had agreed to meet him at this hotel. And underneath my coat, I was wearing the sheer, lace lingerie he had been eyeing online for weeks. Wearing it felt practically like wearing nothing at all. I had been forced to work late, so I arrived at the hotel after him. Liam had texted saying he left a keycard for me at the front desk. I grabbed the card and headed straight up. Wanting to give him a surprise, I didn’t bother turning on the lights when I walked in. I just went straight for the ambush. But looking around now… The ultra-luxurious penthouse decor. The aristocratic, irritated man sitting on the sofa. It hit me like a ton of bricks. I had taken the wrong master keycard and walked into the wrong suite. “I… I am so sorry, Mr. Sterling! I… I think I’m in the wrong room!” I hung my head, absolutely mortified, not daring to meet his eyes. Thinking about what I had just done to him in the dark, I was ready for the ground to swallow me whole. “…” Alexander maintained his usual, terrifying composure. He casually straightened his suit jacket and stood up from the sofa. “So… this was just a misunderstanding?” He stepped toward me. At six-foot-two, his presence was overwhelmingly oppressive. He blocked out the overhead light. I was forced to look up, meeting those dark, bottomless eyes. “Yes. I… I was here to see my boyfriend. I took the wrong card.” I swallowed hard, struggling to get the words out. “…” Silence was my only answer. Alexander looked down at me, his gaze heavy. His Adam’s apple bobbed once in his throat. That tiny movement made my heart pound with inexplicable anxiety. I waited for my sentence. After all, assaulting a stranger in the dark definitely qualified as workplace harassment. But a second later, Alexander took a step back. “Get out.” Two simple words. My heart, which had been lodged in my throat, finally dropped back into my chest. I figured he had decided to let me off the hook. I gave him a frantic bow and fled the room as if my life depended on it. 2 The moment I stepped into the hallway, my phone rang. “Chloe, are you at the hotel yet? I’ve been waiting in the room forever,” Liam’s familiar voice came through the speaker. It helped pull my chaotic thoughts back to reality. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my voice. “Liam, my stomach is suddenly killing me. Let’s take a raincheck.” After the absolute disaster that just happened, I was in no mood to be romantic. Liam sounded disappointed, but he came down to the lobby shortly after. “Are you okay? What happened?” he asked with faux concern when he saw me. “I don’t know… probably just exhausted. I’ve been working so much overtime lately,” I said, putting on a pained expression. “Let me take you home, then.” He patted my head and played the considerate boyfriend, driving me back to my apartment. 3 Once I got home, I tossed and turned all night. It was just too embarrassing. Walking into the wrong room was bad enough. But it had to be the CEO’s room. And I had pinned him to a couch, kissed him, and felt him up. At our corporate headquarters, Alexander Sterling sat at the very top of the food chain. Rumor had it he was completely uninterested in women, living a sterile, disciplined life. He was a billionaire most people only ever looked up at from afar. Most employees never even got the chance to breathe the same air as him. And I… I had practically desecrated the man. Was a termination letter waiting for me tomorrow?! I went to work the next day with massive dark circles under my eyes, practically a walking ghost. Fortunately, the entire day passed without a single incident. Nothing happened. I held onto a shred of hope, surviving until it was almost time to clock out. Then, HR suddenly sent out a blast: an all-hands meeting in the main conference room. It wasn’t long before Alexander walked in. He was wearing a charcoal-grey tailored suit that highlighted his broad shoulders and model-like physique. With features sharp enough to cut glass, he looked like he belonged on a billboard. The moment he stepped into the room, it was like a spotlight hit him. All eyes were glued to him. And just like always, he radiated an untouchable, freezing distance. After Alexander spoke, a few other executives took their turns. I hid myself perfectly in the sea of employees. He didn’t glance in my direction even once. A guy like Alexander—a brilliant, young prodigy CEO—would never waste his time caring about a nobody like me. He was a big shot. He had bigger things to worry about. He probably hadn’t even given last night a second thought. Good. At least my job was safe. When I got home, I took a long, hot bath, feeling a massive weight lift off my shoulders. But that night, lying in bed, fragments of the previous evening kept flashing through my mind. Given the massive difference in our sizes… He definitely could have pushed me away immediately. Why didn’t he do anything? Why did he just let me put my hands all over him? Thinking about it, my face burned, and my heart started racing all over again. 4 A few peaceful days went by. Then, my department manager handed me a stack of files and told me to deliver them to the CEO. Normally, a low-level corporate drone like me had exactly zero chances to interact with the top brass. And after the hotel incident, I really, really wanted to remain invisible to him. But my manager insisted these needed Mr. Sterling’s signature ASAP. I had no way to refuse, so I bit the bullet and knocked on his office door. When I walked in, the chair behind the massive mahogany desk was empty. I hesitated for a second, planning to just drop the files on the desk and run. But the moment I turned around, I found Alexander standing right behind me. I jumped out of my skin, my elbow clipping the desk and sending the files scattering across the floor. “S-sorry! I’m so sorry, Mr. Sterling!” My tongue tied into knots as I dropped to my knees, frantically scrambling to gather the papers. Alexander crouched down next to me. A faint, clean scent of cedarwood washed over me. “Why are you so nervous? I’m not a monster. I don’t eat people.” His voice was a deep, magnetic baritone. It sent a shiver straight down my spine. We were so close. The atmosphere in the office suddenly shifted, growing thick and heavy. I kept my head down, absolutely refusing to look at his face. “I-I’m not.” Alexander handed me the files he had picked up. My fingers accidentally brushed against his. I yanked my hand back like I had been electrocuted. Whether he noticed my reaction or not, a low, breathy chuckle escaped his lips. “You certainly weren’t this timid when we were in private.” The next second, he stood up and walked back to his leather chair. His face was perfectly calm. Untouchable. As if that teasing comment hadn’t just come out of his mouth. Fine. He was mocking me for my wild behavior the other night. What could I do? I just had to pretend I didn’t hear it. With my face burning, I placed the neatly stacked files back on his desk. “Mr. Sterling, these need your review and signature. If there’s nothing else, I’ll take my leave.” “Mm.” 5 Liam and I worked at the same company. The difference was, I was just a regular entry-level employee, while he was a mid-level manager with a decent track record. In a massive, competitive corporation like Sterling Enterprises, he was considered a rising star. Ever since we left the hotel that day, Liam had been incredibly distant. He was “busy” with work during the day, and at night, he would leave my texts on read. I figured he was mad because I hadn’t slept with him. For the whole year we had been dating, I had been fairly traditional. We had stuck to kissing and cuddling. Every time he tried to take it further, I found an excuse. I only agreed to the hotel because it was our one-year anniversary. But in the end, nothing happened anyway. Liam was a normal guy. It made sense that he was frustrated. Thinking about it that way, I did feel a little guilty. A few days later, Liam suddenly texted me late at night. He said his birthday was coming up, and he wanted me to wait for him at the exact same hotel. He said he wanted a birthday surprise. I knew exactly what he meant. That night, I went to the front desk, confirmed the room, and went upstairs to the suite he had booked. He texted saying he was running late. So, I took a shower, sprayed his favorite perfume, changed into a silk slip dress that was even more scandalous than the last one, and waited. I don’t know how much time passed before I heard the door click. I jumped off the bed with a smile, ready to greet him. But I froze in my tracks. Because there were two sets of footsteps. “What if your girlfriend finds out you brought me to a hotel?” It was a woman’s voice. Sweet, but dripping with entitlement. I recognized it instantly. It was Vanessa Kensington, the heiress to a massive hotel empire that our company frequently partnered with. Liam had been the point of contact on a few of their joint ventures. “She won’t. She’s too dumb to notice anything.” “Besides, I’ve been wanting to dump her anyway. If she finds out, she finds out.” Hearing Liam’s words, I stood completely paralyzed. I pulled out my phone and scrolled up to the texts “Liam” had sent me earlier. The red flags were suddenly glaring. The texts telling me to come to the hotel… they weren’t in Liam’s style. He always used perfect punctuation, even for the shortest sentences. Always ending with a period. But the texts from earlier didn’t have a single punctuation mark. The person who invited me here tonight wasn’t Liam. 6 “I’m honestly curious why you even agreed to date her. In my eyes, she’s incredibly low-class. She’s miles beneath you,” Vanessa said, her voice teasing but laced with venom. “Only because she wouldn’t leave me alone. She was practically glued to me.” “She comes from a broken home, single mom, desperate for affection. Show her an ounce of kindness and she latches on like a parasite.” “When we started dating, she was the one throwing herself at me. Plus, she’s an underling in my department. I have to see her every single day.” “I just didn’t want to make things awkward at the office, so I threw her a bone.” The suite was massive. I was standing in the master bedroom, while they were in the adjacent living room. Liam’s words drifted clearly through the cracked door. I felt the blood turn to ice in my veins. I grew up poor. I was timid and sensitive. Dating a rising star like Liam always felt like I was punching above my weight. He was a manager; I was a nobody with no background and no connections. He had pursued me first. But once we got together, I treasured the relationship far more than he did. Growing up the way I did, I was used to cold shoulders. Genuine kindness was rare. Liam treated me well in the beginning, and it warmed my heart. It also made me terrifyingly dependent on him. When he was sick, I stayed up all night taking care of him. On my days off, I went to his apartment to do his laundry, cook, and clean. Maybe to outsiders, it looked pathetic. But I did it willingly. Because, just like he said, I was desperate for love. I had made him my entire support system. As long as he was happy, I was happy. As long as he loved me, I would do anything. But it turned out, my unconditional love was just a joke to him. To him, I was cheap. Pathetic. A charity case. I looked down at the tiny scraps of silk and lace I was wearing—the agonizing effort I had put into trying to please him. It was hilarious. My pride kicked in. I refused to let him catch me looking like this. The worst outcome was just him admitting to the affair and dumping me. He had nothing to lose. I was the one being thrown away. I was the one hurting. But I refused to be his victim. I didn’t want to be a pathetic little bug anymore. Even if we broke up, this time, I was going to be the one calling the shots. Without thinking, I bolted out of the bedroom and made a run for the front door. “Who’s there?!” Hearing the commotion, Liam snapped to attention and chased after me. 7 I ran fast. The second I burst out of the suite, I sprinted toward the corner of the hallway. But I miscalculated. I crashed headfirst into a chest that felt as solid as a brick wall. “Chloe Bennett—” Hearing that familiar, deep, cedar-laced voice, I rubbed my forehead and looked up in a panic. “Mr. Sterling?!” Seeing Alexander here only made my panic spike. But the look on his face was entirely unreadable. “This is the second time, Chloe.” “The same trick loses its charm if you overuse it.” His dark, piercing eyes dragged over my body. In my rush, I hadn’t even grabbed my coat. The silk slip dress left absolutely nothing to the imagination. I was practically naked. His imposing figure and heavy gaze made me feel completely exposed. The way he was analyzing me made my cheeks burn. Did he think I was purposely throwing myself at him? I couldn’t explain myself right now. This wasn’t the time. Gathering every ounce of my courage, I grabbed his arm and yanked him around the corner. I used his massive frame to shield my body. “Mr. Sterling, I swear I didn’t do this on purpose. Not the first time, and not now. I—” I babbled, trying to explain. But his eyes slowly dragged from my face, inching downward. His Adam’s apple bobbed heavily. His eyes darkened, and he deliberately looked away. Right then, I heard Liam’s heavy footsteps echoing down the hall behind us. “Don’t let him see me. Mr. Sterling, please.” Like a drowning woman clinging to a life preserver, I grabbed the lapels of his suit, begging him. Seeing the frantic tears welling in the corners of my eyes, a flicker of something resembling pity crossed his stoic face. He glanced over his shoulder. “Who are you hiding from?” I was too tense to get a word out. But a second later, just as I thought he was going to shove me aside, Alexander stepped into my space. He pressed me firmly against the wall, using his broad shoulders and tall frame to cage me in perfectly. Under his massive shadow, I was completely hidden. I let out a breath of relief. Just as I was about to whisper my thanks, Alexander lowered his head. Soft, cool lips pressed against mine. I froze. My brain completely short-circuited. Alexander Sterling was kissing me! My entire body went rigid, but I didn’t dare move a muscle. A clean, minty scent flooded my senses. It started out cool and restrained, but quickly deepened into something far more aggressive. He kissed me until my mind went completely blank. Pure instinct took over, and my fists tightened in his shirt. “Didn’t you want to stay hidden?” “I’m helping you.” “But if I’m helping… I need to collect some interest.” He murmured the words against my lips between breaths, his forehead resting against mine. I listened to him, totally dazed. But then I realized the footsteps were right next to us. Liam was here. I could feel it. He was standing just a few feet behind Alexander. I don’t know if Liam recognized the CEO, or if he just awkwardly realized he was interrupting a couple hooking up in the hallway. Liam stopped. He didn’t come any closer. A moment later, he turned around and walked away. Crisis averted. I let out a shaky breath. But I quickly realized I had just thrown myself out of the frying pan and into a much, much deeper fire. I instinctively pushed at Alexander’s shoulders, silently begging him to stop. He ignored me entirely. With one large hand, he caught both of my flailing wrists and pinned them against the wall above my head.

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I was the secret girlfriend of America’s biggest pop star for seven years. On my birthday, he brought a group of friends along, but he called me by the wrong name. “Happy Birthday, Hannah!” Hannah was not me. She was his high school sweetheart, his first love. One of his friends asked: “Now that Hannah is back, aren’t you bored of using a disabled girl as a placeholder? Isn’t that getting old?” Leo pinched my ear, his voice lazy and careless. “The little deaf girl is fun. I’ll keep her around for now. I’ll string her along until I’m ready to propose to Hannah.” He had no idea. My hearing had just been restored. 01 The smile on my face froze as I listened to Leo continue. “Today is my birthday, but consider it a makeup gift I owe Hannah.” His friends started cheering, calling him a “hopeless romantic.” Finally, one of them stared directly at me and asked: “Aren’t you afraid she’ll find out?” Leo tilted his head arrogantly. “Afraid of what? That she won’t let go?” A wave of laughter erupted around us. “Honestly, a deaf girl hanging onto Leo for seven years—she’s already hit the jackpot.” “If she didn’t look thirty percent like Hannah, she’d never have stood a chance.” Amidst the mocking, Leo looked down and placed a party hat on my head. His face was inches from mine—the same high-fashion, aloof face that the world adored. Someone asked: “But she has been with you for seven years, and she is beautiful. If she actually leaves… could you really let her go?” Leo’s hand jerked, and the hat tilted. A moment later, he let out a cold, cynical laugh. “Run? Who said she was allowed to run?” The room went dead silent. No one took it as a joke. Considering the power of the Sterling family, and how wild and reckless Leo was, he was entirely capable of forcing me to stay. But why bother? Leo patiently adjusted my hat, his expression gentle, but his words were like icy blades. “I waited seven years for Hannah to come back to me. “I can’t wait to cherish her every single day. I could never bring myself to say a harsh word to her. “But with a substitute around, I have a place to vent my frustrations when I’m feeling frustrated, don’t I?” Everyone laughed. They laughed at how protective he was of Hannah, and they laughed at how pitiable and ridiculous I was. My nails dug into my palms. I was trembling all over from the pain. Leo pulled me into his arms and held his phone in front of me. He had typed: Be a good girl. It’s time to make a wish. Everyone is wishing you a Happy Birthday 😀 I covered my ears to block out their voices and blew out the candles. Everyone shouted in unison again: “Happy Birthday, Hannah!” Someone, I don’t know who, added: “And good luck on the proposal, Leo!” Leo sneered, “Didn’t you guys eat? Why are you so quiet?” The next second, my phone vibrated with a text from him: You little dummy, what did you wish for? Don’t wish for my album to sell well again. I’m already so famous I can’t handle it. I went rigid, forcing myself to hold back the tears. 02 Later, I opened old videos I had recorded. The brutal truth was revealed. Our entire seven-year relationship was nothing but a complete joke. There had never been a single birthday that Leo celebrated for me. I even remembered his first big performance. I had worked tirelessly day and night promoting him, eventually fainting from exhaustion. What I got in return was him saying to me: “Hannah, thank you for your hard work.” Even in bed, during our most intimate moments, when I was breathless with passion, the name he whispered with obsession was still “Hannah.” He never knew when to stop, and when he hurt me, I would desperately use sign language to tell him. It never worked. Afterwards, he would always say with a look of innocence: Honey, your hands are shaking so much. I can’t understand you. But lately, he had started asking me in sign language if it hurt. I had never seen him so gentle. Now I understood why. I once overheard him telling a friend: “I’m just practicing with the deaf girl. Hannah is delicate; I can’t afford to hurt her when the time comes.” A sour sense of betrayal flooded my heart, and tears began to stream down my face. How could anyone be so heartless? When he broke ties with the Sterling family and was penniless, chasing his music dream… The woman who abandoned him and went abroad was Hannah. The woman who stayed by his side, going from nothing to winning countless awards… was me. My phone lit up. It was a text from my doctor. Ms. Davis, are you certain you want to cancel your final round of treatment abroad? You’ve already made it through the painful cochlear implant surgery. Giving up treatment now would be a terrible shame. I wiped away my tears and replied: I’m going. I didn’t want Leo anymore. My flight was scheduled for a week from now. Coincidentally, that was also the night of Leo’s massive concert, where he planned to propose. That night, Leo didn’t come home. I received a text from Hannah: [Sister, don’t bother waiting up. Leo is playing the piano to lul me to sleep. I told him my insomnia is cured, but he just couldn’t relax. He insisted on seeing me fall asleep before leaving.] [You tell me, it’s been seven years. How does he still remember everything so perfectly?] Attached to the text was a photo. Taken over Hannah’s bare shoulder in a tank top. A man was playing the piano. He was wearing a black t-shirt and a vintage silver necklace. That high-fashion, aloof face was impossibly gentle under the warm light of the floor lamp. His long fingers danced across the black and white keys, as if he were caressing a lover’s body. Hannah continued to gloat: [I have to go. He caught me on my phone and he’s getting upset.] After all these years, she still couldn’t stand to see me happy. But I didn’t want to fight her for him. Leo was tainted. I didn’t want him. 03 The next day. On a reality TV show, Hannah lost a game and had to take a penalty. She was wearing a white, off-the-shoulder dress, lying on the ground, her eyes red. An overweight male celebrity was on top of her, doing push-ups as part of the penalty. To the side, Leo leaned casually against a railing, twirling his bone ring on his index finger. When the male celebrity stumbled, Leo finally lost his patience. He muttered a curse, walked over, and kicked the man away. With a dark face, Leo took his place to complete the penalty, having Hannah sit on his back instead, causing the fans to erupt in screams. Hannah, appearing frightened, wrapped both arms tightly around Leo’s veiny neck. The person sitting next to me was baffled. “This is weird. Leo is an A-lister; why would he even agree to be on this show?” “Even weirder, that guy is usually so cold and doesn’t tolerate anyone, but he’s willingly letting her sit on him…” I curled my lips into a bitter smile. Because she was Hannah, his high school sweetheart. The next game involved randomly selecting audience members to guess song titles. The moment he saw me, Leo froze while adjusting his earpiece, a frown crossing his face. But he quickly looked down and continued helping Hannah adjust hers. The music started. Leo’s vocals were incredible, and his stage presence was effortlessly cool. The spotlight hit his perfect face, eliciting screams from the crowd. When the host asked for the answer, I replied plainly: “I’m sorry, I don’t recognize it.” The entire stadium went into an uproar. This was Leo Sterling’s recent global hit, a song that had won countless awards. The fans were furious: “Is something wrong with her ears?! How could she not know this song?!” “Replace her! Get her off the stage! Get out! Get out!” Only Leo remained utterly cold. He kept one hand in his pocket, lifting his eyelids to glare at me with those almond-shaped eyes. He was angry because I had forgotten that I was his “secret” girlfriend, meant to be kept in the dark. He was even angrier that a substitute was flaunting herself in front of the real thing. Suddenly, glow sticks were thrown at me. A sharp plastic one hit me near the corner of my eye, drawing blood. For an instant, Leo’s brows knitted together, and he started walking toward me. But Hannah grabbed the edge of his jacket. She didn’t say anything, just bit her lower lip, and that was enough to make him stop in his tracks. He forgot about the girl huddled in a ball amidst the falling glow sticks, clutching herself in pain. He softly comforted Hannah: “Don’t be afraid, I’m here.” After the fiasco, Hannah took the stage and won the game. I had to take the penalty—being pushed into the pool. By the poolside. Hannah, with her back to the camera, smiled triumphantly: “Seven years wasn’t enough, was it? His heart still belongs to me. I heard Leo has been calling you Hannah for seven years?” I looked at her calmly, pulled out my phone, and typed: I’ve done what you wanted. Give me my necklace back. The song you just sang is one I wrote in high school. I have no problem exposing you. Hannah’s face went pale. She let out a cold, resentful laugh through gritted teeth. Suddenly, she grabbed my hand and pushed me into the pool, falling in with me. The icy water submerged my nose and mouth. I panicked, thrashing wildly. Soon, I heard Leo’s desperate voice: “Get the hell out of the way! Dammit, why is the pool so deep?” Hannah cried out: “Leo, save Chloe first!” A strong hand violently yanked my hand away from where I was clutching Hannah. Leo roared: “Chloe Vance! Let go! Are you trying to drown Hannah?!” The icy water pierced my bones, and my heart slowly went numb. This time, he didn’t get my name wrong. I suddenly remembered Leo’s very first performance. I was carrying应援 (supporting) materials and got tired. I sat down in a dark corner where the light couldn’t reach, just to catch my breath. On stage, Leo was in the spotlight, the center of attention. Below the stage, fans waved glow sticks, screaming their applause. I could neither hear the singing nor the cheering. In my silent world, only Leo’s silhouette existed. He was a light that had illuminated my dark and lonely youth, and now he was still shining brightly. Suddenly, the crowd surged. I was pushed down and couldn’t get back up. The man on stage dropped his microphone, jumped off the stage, and stumbled through the crowd. He knelt down and wrapped his arms tightly around me. The blood from his forehead dripped onto my lips. Leo… Is it because you were afraid of damaging her substitute? Then why did you stroke my head over and over, telling me not to be afraid? Then why, when we were seventeen… 04 When I was seventeen, I lived in Hannah’s shadow. After my mother married her father. My stepfather praised a new song I had written. The next minute, Hannah tore up the sheet music. “You deaf freak, if you ever dare to write music again, I’ll punch your mouth in!” She hated me. Along with her friends, she would stomp on my hearing aids, mock the way I spoke, and even spread nasty rumors about me. Yet she was still the perfect, sweet student in the teachers’ eyes. So, when I was framed for stealing a bracelet. She cried as she told the teacher, her mouth moving rapidly. And I, due to long-term hearing loss, spoke slowly and strangely. Under the teacher’s disgusted gaze, I slowly closed my mouth. The injustice was suffocating, swelling from my chest all the way to my eyes. A boy who had been reading in the corner suddenly let out a sarcastic laugh. He expertly used sign language to tell me: Dummy, no one understands what you’re saying. Don’t you know how to write it down? He slapped paper and a pen down in front of me, looked at the teacher, and said slowly: “Teacher, I believe Chloe. Let her write down what she wants to say.” Behind the boy, the sunlight streamed through the ivy covering the window, reflecting in the black pupils beneath his fragmented bangs. After I was proven innocent, he pulled me away. Under Hannah’s practically incendiary gaze. Leo personally removed the earring from his left ear and put it on mine. His voice was right by my ear, loud enough for Hannah to hear. He said: “My grandmother was deaf, too. Don’t be afraid. If she bullys you again, press the button on the earring, and the other earring will sense it, and I’ll appear.” That moment of heartbeat actually stretched over ten years. 05 When I woke up, the window of the hospital was framed with swaying ivy. As if that summer again, vibrant green, until a heated argument cut short the silence. The manager was roaring: “You’re crazy! Hannah was nearly trampled, and you’re still protecting that other woman?! Did you forget she accompanied you through all the competitions, promoted you, begged people to give you data?!” The twenty-seven-year-old Leo coldly spoke up: “Did I ask her to?” The manager asked again: “Then let her go, okay? Stop torturing her.” “…Why should I? She was the one who threw herself at me. No.” “I have to remind you, you’re about to propose to Hannah, man!” “I know! I only love Hannah. Hannah is back. Whether her name is Chloe Vance, Sarah Smith, or Emily Johnson, it’s all the same to me. I just… need some time. When I’m tired of it, I’ll naturally let her go.” Leo suddenly grabbed his forehead, clearly impatient as he continued: “Also, don’t tell her about the proposal. I’m afraid she’ll make a scene. “She actually tried to kill Hannah today. She’s completely insane. Who does she think she is?! “She really thinks I’m some kind of music-obsessed idiot who would actually marry a deaf woman?” He got up and strode away. Behind him, the manager raised his voice, asking question after question: “Who does she think she is?! She’s the thirteen-year-old vocal award-winning genius. The girlfriend who sacrificed everything to be with you for ten years.” “Did you forget? Your biggest wish used to be for her to hear you sing. “Medical technology is advancing so fast these days, if Chloe actually hears one day, don’t regret it!”

After I moved into my fiancé’s penthouse, I found his rigid, buttoned-up demeanor utterly exasperating. Every day, it was either a barrage of check-in texts or him insisting we make out like teenagers. At first, he seemed annoyed by my sheer existence, but considering the corporate merger between our families, he had no choice but to indulge my every whim. Until one afternoon. I discovered that the woman Nate Prescott was actually supposed to marry wasn’t me. It was my older sister. The moment the realization hit, I was straddling my future brother-in-law’s lap. The edges of my vision went entirely black. I scrambled to get off him, but Nate’s hands caught my waist, his brow furrowing in genuine confusion as he pulled me back against his chest. “I thought kissing was on the daily mandatory agenda,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble. “Are we skipping it today?” I waved my hands frantically, feeling the blood drain from my face. “We’re skipping it. We are definitely skipping it.” I mean, I had my flaws, but I drew the line at making out with my sister’s fiancé. 1 The hands gripping my waist tightened infinitesimally. Nate tipped my chin up with his index finger, his dark eyes searching my face with a mix of concern and bewilderment. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling sick?” “No.” “Then why the sudden strike?” he asked, his tone perfectly serious. “Usually, if I show even a fraction of hesitation, you throw a fit.” The fact that he was analyzing my erratic behavior with the gravity of a board meeting made my chest tight. Just minutes ago, everything had been perfectly fine. I had been whining for attention. Nate, ever the disciplined CEO, had actually sighed, closed his laptop, and pulled me onto his lap. Faced with a man who looked like he’d been carved out of marble specifically to wear Tom Ford suits, I was fully prepared to kiss him senseless. Then, my iPhone buzzed. It was a text from my brother, Brooks. [Heather, Caroline is flying back from London next week.] [Mom and Dad are getting everything lined up with that guy they set her up with… what was his name again?] [Oh right. Nate Prescott.] [Since you’re pretty tight with him, Mom wants to know if you can invite him over for a family dinner?] I had been lazily draped over Nate’s shoulder. Reading those texts, my spine snapped straight. Wait. Since when was Nate Prescott my older sister’s arranged match? It took my brain several agonizing seconds to process the information. Suddenly, the glaringly obvious signs I had ignored came rushing back to me. Muttering some incoherent excuse to Nate, I practically bolted from his home office and sprinted to my bedroom, locking the door behind me. I dialed Brooks. He picked up on the second ring. “What’s up, Harp?” “Brooks, I need you to clarify something right now,” I hissed, pacing the length of the balcony, keeping my voice to a frantic whisper. “Nate was originally set up with Caroline?” “What do you mean ‘originally’? He still is.” Brooks sounded completely bewildered. “Caroline isn’t getting any younger, and she insisted on doing that year-long fellowship in Europe. Mom and Dad have been stressed out of their minds.” “They’re planning to lock down the engagement between her and the Prescott family the second she lands.” … Brooks kept talking, his voice a steady drone on the other end of the line, but a high-pitched ringing had taken over my ears. I was doomed. I pressed my palm against my forehead, sliding down the glass door until I hit the floor. How on earth had I managed to create a disaster of this magnitude? 2 I had first heard about the impending marriage between the Kensington and Prescott families a few months ago. My parents had casually dropped it over Sunday brunch. At the time, Caroline was already across the Atlantic. In my typical, self-absorbed fashion, I naturally assumed I was the sacrificial lamb being offered up to the corporate gods. Initially, I was repulsed by the archaic idea of an arranged marriage. But then, on a whim, I typed Nate Prescott’s name into Google. That changed everything. The man staring back at me from the screen had the kind of devastating, razor-sharp jawline that ruined women. I was instantly hooked. I remember laughing to myself. Well played, Mom and Dad. How did you know exactly what my type is? My logic at the time was simple: if I was going to be shackled to this man for life, I needed to know if we had any chemistry behind closed doors. Because if he was all flash and no fire, I didn’t care how many commas were in his bank account—I was out. Once the idea took root, I didn’t even bother going back to my dorm at NYU. I packed a couple of Rimowa suitcases and showed up directly at Nate’s corporate headquarters. At first, he treated me like a rogue variable he couldn’t calculate. “Does your family know you’re planning to move in with me?” he had asked. I shook my head, then nodded vaguely. Nate stared at me, his cool, slate-gray eyes betraying absolutely nothing. “While your reasoning for a ‘trial run’ is logically sound, and theoretically, I shouldn’t object…” He paused, adjusting his cuffs. “I am absolutely refusing.” I flared up instantly. How could a man be so infuriatingly rigid? I was the youngest daughter of the Kensington family; no one had ever flat-out denied me anything. So, I did what any rational twenty-one-year-old would do: I threw an absolute tantrum. I cried, making sure to wipe my mascara-stained tears all over the lapels of his bespoke suit. The sheer volume of my dramatics made Nate rub his temples in defeat. He hit the intercom. His executive assistant rushed in. Seeing me essentially clinging to his boss like a weeping barnacle, the assistant immediately glued his eyes to the floor. “Mr. Prescott, you needed me?” “Take her… take her to the Tribeca penthouse,” Nate sighed, the fight completely drained out of him. “Have Martha prep the guest suite.” “Right away, sir.” With the orders given, Nate looked down at me, still sniffling against his chest. His brow furrowed. “Are you going to get up?” “Right.” I scrambled up, following the assistant toward the door. But before I left, I poked my head back into his office. “By the way, what time do you get off work?” Nate’s pen stalled over a contract. He looked at me, resigning himself to his fate. “Five.” “Perfect. I’ll be waiting for you.” I blew the man a kiss and practically skipped out the door, completely oblivious to the quiet sigh he let out as he looked down at his ruined suit jacket. 3 Once we started living together, I quickly realized that Nate was unbearably stoic. He was a man of routines, silence, and control. He was zero fun. So, I made it my personal mission to push his buttons. Yet, no matter how outrageous I was, his icy exterior would inevitably melt, dissolving like sugar in hot tea. It was infuriating, honestly. Like punching a cloud. The very first night, he didn’t get home until almost midnight. I was livid. In the middle of the night, I marched into his master bedroom, climbed right onto the mattress, and straddled his waist to demand answers. “You said five o’clock. You come back this late without a single text, and this is how you treat your fiancée?” The sudden weight of me, combined with the interrogation, completely derailed his breathing. His large hands gripped the silk sheets, his knuckles turning white. He looked less like a ruthless corporate titan and more like a Victorian maiden being scandalized by a pirate. “It was an oversight on my part, I apologize,” he managed to choke out, his voice rough with sleep. “But… could you please get off me?” I refused, stubbornly planting myself and poking at his chest to emphasize my points. As my hand trailed down the hard ridges of his abs, I brushed against something distinctly… substantial. Oh. Well then. It was genuinely impressive. I patted it approvingly, a smug sense of satisfaction washing over me as a dark, dangerous flush spread across Nate’s normally composed face. Knock, knock, knock— The sound of the bedroom door rattling snapped me back to the present. Nate tried the handle, finding it locked. After a beat of silence, his voice filtered through the wood, laced with an uncharacteristic edge of urgency. “Heather? Are you locking me out?” “Did I do something to upset you?” I buried my face in my hands, a massive headache blooming behind my eyes. Caroline was coming home. My time was running out. Before this entire situation detonated and took out both our families, I had to fix the colossal mess I’d made. 4 I unlocked the door. Nate was standing right there in the hallway. Seeing that I wasn’t crying, his rigid posture relaxed a fraction. “Are you in a bad mood?” he asked softly. “I made that cinnamon apple oatmeal you like. Do you want to try and eat a little?” I shook my head. “I’m not hungry.” “Then what are you craving? Tell me, I’ll make it right now.” Nate reached out, his long fingers gently smoothing down my messy hair, his tone entirely too patient. The truth was, Martha, the housekeeper, was an exquisite chef. But I had been a terror in the beginning. I had insisted that Nate cook for me himself, claiming that’s what couples in love did. His early attempts had been culinary tragedies. He had slowly, painstakingly gotten better. “I don’t want anything. Don’t worry about it.” Hearing this, Nate’s hand stilled. He looked down at me, his gray eyes performing a rapid, analytical sweep of my face. “You are mad.” I blinked, opening my mouth to deny it, but Nate was already running through his mental checklist. “Is this because you asked me to hand you your sunscreen this morning, and I accidentally gave you your foundation?” “…No.” I twitched. He kept going. “Is it because I was three minutes late replying to your text? Heather, I swear to you, I was in the middle of a board meeting.” “Nate, I said I’m not mad—” “I figured it out,” he interrupted, his jaw tight, looking as if he’d just solved a complex algorithm. “It’s because yesterday you asked me why there are twelve months in a year, and I said I didn’t know.” … I stared at him, utterly speechless. A wave of profound guilt washed over me. Looking back, I realized exactly how unhinged and demanding I had been over the past few months. God, I was a monster. By the time I snapped out of my spiral, Nate had already swept me off my feet. “What are you doing?” I gasped, clutching his shoulders, frantically trying to wiggle out of his grasp. Nate simply tightened his hold, carrying me down the hall and into the living room. He sat down on the expansive Restoration Hardware sofa, keeping me firmly perched on his lap. Beneath me, the solid, muscular planes of his thighs felt like a trap. I went pale, avoiding his gaze because the guilt was practically eating me alive. Then, two fingers caught my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Heather,” he said, his voice deadly serious. “Didn’t you tell me last week that whenever you’re mad, the only cure is for me to carry you?” I swallowed hard, my throat sandpaper-dry. “I… I made that up. I was just messing with you.” “You don’t ever have to carry me again.” Nate’s gaze dropped to my lips. I watched his Adam’s apple bob slowly against his throat. Finally, his eyes flicked back to mine, his voice dropping ten degrees. “Noted.” 5 That night, I didn’t sneak into Nate’s bedroom like I usually did. When I came out of the master bathroom, my face freshly scrubbed, I stopped dead in my tracks. Nate was walking into my bedroom, holding his pillow. I froze. Without breaking eye contact, he climbed onto my mattress, pulled back the duvet, and patted the empty space beside him. My feet were nailed to the floor. Half my spine broke out in a cold sweat. “What are you doing?” He raised an eyebrow, looking at me like I was the one being unreasonable. “Sleeping. Together.” “I’m actually feeling really exhausted tonight,” I stammered, wrapping my silk robe tighter around myself. “I think I want to sleep alone. Is that okay?” Nate’s breathing hitched. A microscopic crease formed between his brows. “If I recall correctly, the last time I suggested sleeping in separate beds, you gave me the silent treatment for three days.” “Well… you know. Hormones. Sometimes a girl just wants her space,” I offered weakly. That excuse only deepened the crease between his eyes. He sat there, studying me in the dim light of the bedside lamp. The silence stretched until the air in the room felt thick and suffocating. Finally, he spoke, his voice quiet but incredibly sharp. “Heather, there is something very wrong with you today.” “No there isn’t.” My heart hammered against my ribs, and I desperately lunged for a change of subject. “Nate, seriously… do you ever think I’m just way too annoying?” My question seemed to throw him off balance. He rubbed his jaw, looking uncharacteristically flustered. “I wouldn’t say that. I’m just… still adjusting…” “Exactly! You’re adjusting, meaning it’s not natural!” I interrupted, slapping my thigh for emphasis. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. I’ve been totally out of line, moving in here just because of the families. But looking at it objectively? We really aren’t a good fit.” I talked fast, the words spilling out before I could lose my nerve. “I think I’m going to pack up and move back to my apartment near campus in a few days. What do you think?” I slurred the “not a good fit” part, praying he would just let it slide and we could quietly go our separate ways. The room went dead silent. The kind of silence that precedes a hurricane. Nate stared at me, his eyes dark and entirely unreadable. When he spoke, he enunciated every single syllable. “Did you just say we aren’t a good fit?” “I just mean, with graduation coming up, things are chaotic, and if I move back…” “Heather. Do you think we aren’t a good fit?” His voice was heavier now, a low, dangerous frequency that vibrated in my chest. My heart skipped a beat. I decided to just rip the band-aid off. “Yes.” We weren’t a fit. We were never supposed to be a fit. What else was there to say? 6 But surprisingly, Nate didn’t explode. He looked at me for three agonizing seconds. Then, he reached out, caught my wrist, pulled me down, and pressed his mouth firmly against mine. What?! I froze completely, my brain short-circuiting as his lips moved over mine. When he pulled back, he looked utterly unfazed, though the tips of his ears were burning a dark, telltale red. “There. Today’s kiss is officially logged. Are you going to behave now?” I clenched my hands into fists, my fingernails biting into my palms. I wanted to slap myself. This was the karma I deserved for conditioning this man like a Pavlovian dog. The boomerang had come back and hit me right between the eyes. “Nate, I wasn’t throwing a tantrum because I wanted a kiss,” I said, taking a shaky breath, trying to inject some rationality into the room. “Actually, to be clear, I’m not throwing a tantrum at all. I’m saying… can we stop the kissing? Permanently?” Nate’s brow furrowed so deeply it looked painful. “But you told me that people in a relationship have to kiss every single day to maintain intimacy.” A beat passed. A dark realization dawned in his eyes. “Oh. I get it. Are you mad because I didn’t use tongue?” Before I could even process the absurdity of the sentence, he leaned in again. I thought I was going to die of sheer mortification. I threw my hand over his mouth, effectively blocking him. Seeing the sheer panic in my eyes and the light sheen of sweat on my forehead, Nate let out a low, breathless laugh against my palm. “Look how tense you are. It’s not like it’s our first time.” He pulled my hand away, his expression softening into something devastatingly tender. “Come on. Get in bed.” There was absolutely no way I was getting in that bed with him. It took me ten minutes of pleading and physical maneuvering to finally push him out of my room. By the time he stood in the hallway, his face was like thunder. “So, that’s it then? You’re just completely inconsolable today?” I didn’t dare answer, but I held the door firmly, my stance resolute. Before he turned away, Nate let out a short, bitter laugh. “Fine. We don’t ever have to sleep in the same bed again.” “Not that I care anyway.” 7 With graduation looming, I genuinely did have a lot on my plate. It provided the perfect cover. I avoided the penthouse for several days. Then, the phone call came. Nate’s voice was crisp, cold, and utterly terrifying. “Did you actually move back to your apartment?” “Why wasn’t I informed?” “When are you coming back?” The rapid-fire interrogation left me slightly breathless. “I probably won’t be coming back for a while,” I said, glancing down at my watch, desperate for a lifeline. “I’m drowning in my thesis. I barely have time to grab a coffee, let alone commute.” At that, the icy tension over the line seemed to thaw just a fraction. Nate’s voice dropped, slipping into a lazy, persuasive cadence. “That works out perfectly. I made a reservation at that omakase place you love. I also bought you those fuzzy bear slippers you pointed out. Didn’t you say your heels were killing you?” He paused, letting the bait dangle. “We’ll get dinner, and then maybe catch a movie?” The sheer temptation in his voice made me hesitate. God, I was weak. Sensing my internal struggle, Nate ruthlessly upped the ante. “If you don’t want to go out, we can stay in. I learned how to make those molten lava cakes you’re obsessed with. For dessert.” Lava cake?! I practically swallowed my own tongue. Stars danced in my eyes. But with Herculean effort, I forced myself to refuse. Nate clicked his tongue, drawing out his words. “I almost forgot. I had a few new dresses and some jewelry sent over. You’re really not going to come try them on?” “N-no. I’m not,” I croaked, the words tasting like ash. “Maybe another time.” I had read once that a truly powerful woman could conquer her own desires. If I couldn’t resist designer clothes and chocolate, how was I ever going to untangle this mess? Besides, if I caved now, all this agonizing distance would be for nothing. I just needed to find the right moment to sit him down and tell him the truth. I was desperate to hang up before I cracked. But just as I pulled the phone away, Nate called my name. My heart stalled. “The penthouse is completely empty without you here,” he said, his voice stripped of all its armor, raw and quiet. “Come home.” A warm spring breeze whipped across the campus quad, catching my hair. I pressed my free hand tightly against my chest, desperately trying to keep my heart from beating right out of my ribcage. 8 In the end, I stayed away. So, when Nate Prescott’s sleek black Range Rover materialized on campus a few days later, I wasn’t entirely surprised. The timing, however, was violently unfortunate. I was currently standing under an oak tree, being cornered by Cameron, a junior from my department, who was stammering through a very earnest, very public confession of love. He was telling me how he’d had a crush on me since his freshman year, and with me graduating, he didn’t want to live with the regret of never saying anything. I was literally opening my mouth to let him down gently when my phone started vibrating. Nate. His voice came through the speaker, cold, sharp, and laced with absolute venom. He didn’t even bother with a greeting. “Who is the guy standing next to you?” I froze. My head snapped around, scanning the perimeter. Sure enough, parked illegally by the gates, was the Range Rover. Nate was in the driver’s seat. The glare of the windshield obscured his expression, but I didn’t need to see his face to know he was furious. Panic and a desperate need to sever our ties collided in my brain, producing a spectacular lie. “He’s my boyfriend. Why?” The breathing on the other end of the line fractured. A heavy, suffocating silence stretched out for what felt like hours. Then, Nate let out a hollow, mocking laugh. He said a single word— “Oh”— and the line went dead. I stared at the black screen of my phone. Knowing Nate’s pride, I thought, he’ll put the car in drive and never look back. Unlike my sudden internal devastation, Cameron was buzzing with renewed energy. He rubbed the back of his neck, a massive grin spreading across his face. “Heather, did you just tell that guy I was your—” “Forget what I just said. There was a reason I did that,” I said, cutting him off, a sudden wave of exhaustion washing over me. “Don’t read into it. I just needed him to hear that.” Cameron blinked, his smile faltering. But he was young and resilient. A second later, his shoulders squared. “That’s okay. I know a lot of guys are into you. I can wait. I’ll just keep liking you until you finally notice me.” I stared at him, wanting to tell him not to waste his time. But before I could get the words out, he plowed ahead. “It’s almost noon. Let me buy you lunch?” He enthusiastically pointed out a new café that had opened down the street. Looking at his eager, hopeful eyes, I couldn’t find the heart to shoot him down completely. I was just about to ask if he had friends we could drag along as buffers, when my phone went off again. It wasn’t a call. It was a rapid-fire barrage of texts. [Making out with me every day while you have a boyfriend. You are truly something else.] [So what you told me the other night was true.] [You got bored. You suddenly decided we ‘aren’t a good fit.’] [Fine. Great. Keep being a spoiled brat.] [I’m sitting here dealing with the fallout of this alone, but it’s fine. I’m not hurt. I’m not tired at all.] [What do you want me to do, send you guys an Edible Arrangement to celebrate?] [I clearly can’t control you. Do whatever you want.] [By the way, his Jordans are fake.] [Your taste in men is absolute garbage.] 9 I stared at the screen, my jaw physically dropping. Was this the same Nate Prescott? The ruthless, untouchable CEO? Before, I was the only one who sent unhinged walls of text.

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