Category: English

She was always so sweet. But only when Dad was around. The second he left for work, she’d make me get on my knees and bark like a dog. I wouldn’t get to eat until she decided I’d done it well enough, and even then, it was just their leftovers. Her slimeball son, Kevin, would just stand there, clapping and yelling, “Yeah! Go, doggy, go!” like it was the funniest show on earth. But Dad never believed she was anything but kind. She was so ‘petite and pitiful’ in his eyes. And this ‘petite and pitiful’ woman actually wanted to be my mom. My name is Sarah Miller, I’m 16, and I just started high school. I used to dream about high school, imagining all the fun and freedom. But so far, it hasn’t brought me any joy. I’ve felt lonely for a long time, especially after Mom passed away. Dad travels a lot for work, so he’s barely home. “Sarah, aren’t you leaving yet? You’re going to be late!” Linda hurried me along. She’s the housekeeper Dad hired to look after me. “I know,” I mumbled, dragging myself out the door. She only ever spoke to me that nicely when Dad was actually home to hear it. Walking into school felt like stepping onto an alien planet. Strange faces everywhere. I felt like a total outsider, watching everyone else laugh and joke around, feeling completely invisible. “Hey, I’m Kevin. You’re the new girl, right? Heard your family’s loaded,” a boy said, popping my lonely bubble. He was Linda’s son. “Hi, I’m Sarah,” I managed a small smile. “So, Sarah, heard you guys are rich?” Kevin’s friendly tone vanished instantly, replaced by a nasty, jealous edge. “Does that matter?” I asked, confused. “Nah, just figured rich kids are different,” he sneered. Later, during passing period, I overheard a girl whispering to her friend, “Did you hear about Sarah Miller? Kevin said she acts all high and mighty, thinks she’s better than everyone ’cause her dad has money or something.” “Really? I thought she seemed okay,” the other girl replied. Comments like that just made me feel even more out of place in this new school. And things were only going to get worse… 2 When I got home that day, the air felt different, heavy with something unfamiliar. “Sarah, I want you to properly meet Kevin, Linda’s son,” Dad said, giving me an awkward smile. Linda stood beside him, beaming. “Hey, Sarah. Guess we’re family now,” Kevin chuckled, looking way too pleased with himself. Family? What was he talking about? “Maybe you should start calling Linda ‘Mom’,” Dad suggested suddenly. “Why? I already have a mom,” I blurted out, reeling from the shock. What was Dad thinking? Mom hasn’t even been gone that long. That night, as soon as Dad left for a work dinner, I heard my bedroom door creak open. It was Linda. “Why is your room such a pigsty? Didn’t your mother teach you how to clean up after yourself before she died?” Her face twisted into a snarl, like a hyena defending its food. “Who said you could come in here? My room isn’t messy! And don’t you dare talk about my mom!” I shot up from my chair, yelling. Hearing me shout, Linda stalked towards me, her expression getting uglier by the second. Slap! Her hand cracked across my face, hard. Pain exploded on my cheek. Shock and fear washed over me, and I choked back tears, clutching my face. “Remember this,” she hissed, leaning in close. “From now on, I’m the one in charge of this house!” I couldn’t hold back anymore. Sobs ripped through me. Slap! Slap! Two more times, just as hard as the first. “You be a good little girl and listen,” she spat, “or I’ll skin you alive, you worthless brat!” She threw the words at me like stones, then stormed out, slamming the door behind her. The next day, I noticed some of my personal things were missing from my room – some jewelry Mom gave me, a picture frame. Panic tightened my chest. I suspected Kevin took them. When I saw him later, I tried to ask, “Did you see the stuff on my desk?” The memory of last night made my voice shrink. “Some things are gone.” “Why would I want your junk, ‘sis’?” He looked me up and down, a nasty grin spreading across his face. That evening, I was on the phone with a friend. “…if she hears me, she’ll kill me… I’m so scared…” “Sarah, calm down,” my friend whispered back. “Just be careful when your dad’s not there. Maybe just try to stay out of her way? Look, my mom’s calling me, gotta go.” She hung up. Suddenly, I felt a chill. I turned around slowly. Linda was standing in my doorway, her face dark and furious. “What were you just saying?” she asked, her voice dangerously low, a terrifying smile plastered on her face. “I… I wasn’t saying anything,” I stammered, trying to look calm, but my hands were shaking uncontrollably. “You watch yourself, you motherless little thing.” Linda shot me one last venomous glare and turned away. The sharp click-clack of her heels echoed down the hall, sounding like a countdown, urging me to just disappear from my own home. 3 Lying in bed that night, I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to hear Mom’s voice in my head: “Sarah, no matter what happens, always try to be a good person.” But reality was making it harder and harder to hold onto that. At school, kids avoided me like I had the plague. Whispers followed me everywhere: “Didn’t you hear? Kevin said Sarah Miller’s mom died and nobody taught her basic hygiene. She stinks, like she never showers or changes her socks.” Just then, Kevin walked over, a smug look on his face. “Hey, Sarah. How’s life treating you lately?” “Why are you doing this?” I trembled, fear and anger warring inside me. “What? I’m your big brother now, Sarah-bear. Just looking out for my little sister, anything wrong with that?” he replied, practically strutting. After school, I walked home with a heavy heart. As soon as I opened the door, I heard Linda’s voice, dripping with false concern, talking to Dad. “… she’s been bullying poor Kevin! Honestly, that child is so ungrateful.” “Why don’t you ask your precious son what he’s been doing? Let’s hear his side and see who’s telling the truth!” I finally exploded, emboldened by Dad’s presence. “Sarah, what is wrong with you?” Dad interrupted, his voice sharp with anger. “Linda has been nothing but good to you, practically like a mother! How can you speak to her like that? Didn’t we raise you to have manners?” Behind Dad’s back, Linda turned her head slightly and gave me a sickeningly sweet, triumphant smile. In that moment, I felt completely alone. Utterly hopeless. Later that night, hiding by my window trying to wipe away tears without making a sound, I saw Linda downstairs in the yard. She was talking quietly with some man I didn’t recognize, their heads close together. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but something felt wrong. A tiny spark ignited inside me. Maybe… maybe the time to fight back was coming. The whole world felt like it was laughing at me, mocking me. But Mom’s words echoed again: Be strong. Keep going. I was starting to understand, though. When the world turns its back on you, sometimes fighting seems pointless. One person can’t take on everyone. People are complicated, dark, full of secrets. Linda was the perfect doting girlfriend and stepmom-to-be in front of Dad, but I knew the monster hiding underneath.

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Never in a million years. Did I think I’d have a shotgun wedding. Especially not to a guy I’d only met once. Ethan Hayes had a cold look on his face. “As soon as Grandpa’s fully recovered, we’re getting a divorce.” I nodded. Fine by me. Except, later… The road to divorce took a seriously weird detour. 1 When we got back to his place. Grandpa Hayes, who was supposedly knocking on death’s door. Took one look at the marriage certificate. And instantly perked up like he’d mainlined espresso. He downed two whole bowls of rice in one go. Started rambling about how he’d be holding his great-grandchild soon. I was stunned. Was this like, that legendary last burst of energy before the end?! Didn’t look like it, though. The feeling of being totally scammed washed over me. The guy next to me, Ethan, looked like thunderclouds were gathering over his head. After a long silence, he finally ground out, “Grandpa, whose idea was this?” Grandpa Hayes paused, mid-bite, and didn’t hesitate to throw the blame. “Chloe’s grandpa.” Meeting Ethan’s glare, I put on my saddest face. “I had no idea. I’m a victim here.” He put down his chopsticks, looking down at me. “Since Grandpa’s fine, tomorrow, we get divorced.” I nodded quickly. “Okay.” So, I’d been a married woman for less than a day. And I was about to be single again? That was fast. Way too fast. Just then, Grandpa Hayes clutched his chest. Slumped onto the floor. Looking like he couldn’t breathe. Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose, looking utterly exasperated. “Grandpa, that trick won’t work.” Grandpa Hayes’s face went pale, his expression genuinely pained. He gasped for air, unable to speak. Ethan and I exchanged a look. Was he… not faking it this time? Grandpa Hayes ended up in the hospital. And stayed there. For a whole week. The divorce talk was put on hold. The day before he was discharged, I went to visit him again. Just as I reached the door of the VIP room, I heard him talking to the doctor. The doctor was teasing him, “You’re pretty good at faking it, huh?” Grandpa Hayes laughed heartily. “Good enough to fool ’em, right?” The doctor replied, sounding slightly annoyed, “You almost gave me a heart attack.” Then he added, “Ethan asked me several times about your condition. Almost blew your cover.” What did I just hear??? Faking… sick? For a week? And the doctor helped him fool the family? Can I report this hospital? “Miss Miller, what are you doing just standing there? Come on in.” Mrs. Davis, the housekeeper, called out, totally exposing me. Grandpa Hayes and the doctor both whipped their heads around to look at me. The door, which had been slightly ajar, was now wide open. Our eyes met. Three pairs of them. The atmosphere turned incredibly awkward. Grandpa Hayes pretended to be calm and started chatting with me. From his ‘war buddy’ days with my grandpa, to them starting their own families. Then about setting up a childhood engagement promise, and how my aunt had refused it. None of this was news to me. I practically knew it by heart. Finally, he said, the childhood promise my aunt didn’t fulfill, Ethan and I had to complete it. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I peeled an apple, handed it to him, and stated my opinion clearly. “Grandpa, nobody does arranged marriages or childhood engagements anymore. This isn’t the dark ages. People date freely now. Neither Ethan nor I can accept that kind of thing.” If it hadn’t been because Grandpa Hayes was supposedly dying last time… Ethan and I would absolutely never have gotten that marriage license. Thinking about it now, it was just ridiculously absurd. Like, peak absurdity. 2 But Grandpa Hayes insisted it was a promise between him and my grandpa, their dying wish. They couldn’t wait much longer, being ‘halfway in the grave’ already. If the families couldn’t be joined by marriage, they couldn’t ‘rest in peace’. Talk about dramatic. In the end, I caved. “Okay, we’ll try,” I said. If it really didn’t work out down the line, Ethan and I would split amicably. Grandpa Hayes reluctantly agreed. Then, he immediately told me not to blow his cover. And that I needed to play along when necessary. How was I supposed to play along? My acting skills were nowhere near his Oscar-worthy performance… By the time Ethan showed up, it was pitch black outside. He hadn’t been in the room long. Before Grandpa Hayes shooed him out. Told him to take me home so I could rest. Before I left, he gave me a look full of grandfatherly love. “Chloe, honey, if this boy bullies you, you tell Grandpa. Grandpa will break his legs.” “Grandpa, sounds like you’re feeling much better, so…” Ethan turned to look at me, his lips pressed into a thin line. “We can get divorced tomorrow.” Grandpa Hayes’s voice, which had just been booming with energy, instantly became weak. “Ohhh, my leg, it hurts so bad. Ouch, my back, it’s so stiff…” The sudden change was almost comical. I followed Ethan into the elevator. After hesitating for a long time, I cautiously asked, “Divorce tomorrow?” The man beside me lowered his head slightly. His warm breath ghosted across my face. “We’ll wait until the old man chills out a bit, then we’ll divorce.” Chills out? The moment divorce was mentioned, he immediately stopped chilling out. Looks like getting this divorce was going to be tough. After Grandpa was discharged. Ethan started sleeping on a makeshift bed on the floor. He did this for two nights straight. Then the man snapped. He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. Stood by the bed. Staring at me menacingly. “Chloe Miller, let’s switch.” I clutched the blankets tightly, shaking my head frantically. “No way.” Next thing I knew, he bundled me up in the blanket and tossed me onto the floor. My temper flared. I rolled up my sleeves. And launched myself at him, wrestling ensued. In the chaos, I… scratched… his… face. To keep the peace, I volunteered to sleep on the floor. And that’s where I slept for the better part of two weeks. Until one day, I overslept. Still groggy, I forgot to put away my bedding on the floor. Result: Mrs. Davis confiscated it. That evening, I looked miserable. I begged Ethan to figure out a way to get me some bedding. The man just looked up, wearing a helpless expression. I asked him darkly, “Are you sure you won’t help?” He didn’t even lift his eyes from his book. I jumped onto the bed, pulled his comforter over myself, covering up completely. “Either we share the bed, half each, or you go sleep in the study.” After two seconds of silence, the man spoke softly. “I’ll sleep in the study.” “Good luck with that,” I thought, but didn’t say it out loud. Don’t get kicked back here by Grandpa. Turns out, his luck wasn’t great. Less than an hour later, he was back. Ignoring my stifled laughter, he silently grabbed another blanket. Then warned me fiercely, “Don’t cross the line.” So childish. Should we draw a line down the middle? I declared confidently, “Don’t worry, I sleep like a log. I never cross the line.” When morning came, I discovered I hadn’t just crossed the line. One of my legs was… draped over his stomach. The man was practically hanging off the edge of the bed, about to fall off. Just as I was about to silently retract my wayward leg. He tumbled onto the floor. His eyes, lazy and still heavy with sleep, met mine. Is it too late to start making excuses? “Let me explain…” His deep voice simmered with irritation. “Chloe Miller, does your face hurt?” I gave a tight-lipped smile. “Nope, I’ve got thick skin.” 3 The next day, I worked late, until ten. Grandpa Hayes was worried about me. So he specifically sent Ethan to pick me up. The man, looking thoroughly reluctant, leaned against the car door. The look he gave me was like I was his mortal enemy. “Seriously? I’m still technically your wife, you know.” I reached for the passenger door handle. The jerk pulled me back. “Sit in the back.” I snorted. “Like I care.” On the way, my best friend Riley sent me a voice message. “Chloe! Weekend BBQ, remember? That guy you used to crush on, Ryan? He’s gonna be there! Come early!” The volume was maxed out, crystal clear. Ignoring Ethan completely, I cheerfully replied to the message. “Got it! I’ll be there looking fabulous.” … The night before the weekend BBQ. Ethan specifically informed me that I needed to accompany Grandpa Hayes for a check-up the next day. My hand, applying a face mask, froze. Was he deliberately trying to get back at me? “You go with him. I have plans.” The man slowly drawled, “Grandpa specifically asked for you. If you don’t want to go, you can tell him yourself.” Then he turned and left. Tell Grandpa myself? That I couldn’t go to his check-up because I had plans to see the guy I used to crush on? Ughhh… I couldn’t bring myself to say that. The next day, I ended up going to the hospital with Grandpa. It was supposed to be a check-up. But really, it was just a cover. To fool Ethan. Which was why Grandpa had insisted I come. I sat bored out of my mind on a bench outside. Grandpa was inside the office, chatting happily with that doctor. Looking at the BBQ pictures Riley was sending. My heart was weeping. Ryan looked as handsome as ever. So handsome you could spot him from the back in a crowd… After Grandpa went home. Riley said there were more plans for the evening. I rushed over immediately. Only, before I even got into the private room. I bumped into Ethan right outside the door. We made eye contact. And both chose to completely ignore each other. 4 At the dinner table. The atmosphere was lively. Amidst the clinking glasses, I got a little tipsy. Ryan Walker suddenly asked me, “Chloe, you still remember me?” My mouth, busy with crab legs, mumbled indistinctly, “Ryan, who could forget? Back in the day…” What followed was basically my drunken TED Talk. I could talk for half an hour straight without pausing for breath. In my hazy state, I grabbed his collar, complaining pitifully, “I even wrote you a love letter back then! My first ever love letter, and it just vanished without a trace, like into a black hole…” The more I thought about it, the more aggrieved I felt, tightening my grip on his collar. Everyone started teasing, demanding Ryan give an explanation. Ryan chuckled, reaching out to steady me as I swayed. “So, can I get a chance now?” I patted my head, looking extremely serious. “No chance.” Everyone was surprised. “Why not?” “Because I’m already married…” Riley quickly clamped her hand over my mouth and pulled me next to her. “Chloe’s drunk! Don’t take her drunken ramblings seriously.” I struggled free, pointing a finger at Ryan. “I really am married! My husband is…” I spun around twice. Pointed vaguely east. “He’s right next door!” I don’t remember much after that… When I woke up, my head was pounding. Ten missed calls, all from Riley. My gut told me I was screwed. Sure enough, Riley’s voice on the message was practically vibrating with excitement. “Chloe Miller, last night, you… became… a… LEGEND.” I rubbed my aching temples, asking weakly, “What did I do? I don’t remember?” She calmly told me to watch the video she sent. Oh great, someone filmed the whole thing? Who has that kind of time? The video started when Ryan asked, “Can I get a chance now?” Right up until— I pointed east, “My husband is right next door.” Then, amidst everyone’s doubtful murmurs. I whipped out my phone and furiously tapped away. Called Ethan Hayes. And said, “Honey, come get me, I’m drunk.” Silence on the phone line. Everyone looked at each other. Just as they were about to laugh at me. The man himself knocked on the door of the private room.

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The world was freezing over, and my boyfriend, using a vacation as an excuse, wanted to bring his entire family to stay in my newly bought mountain cabin. His dad was a slob, spitting everywhere and wiping his nose with his hand. I tried to patiently explain proper hygiene, but his mom attacked me with a needle, saying I had no manners and didn’t respect my elders. They kicked me out onto the porch, refusing to let me eat and telling me I needed to learn some manners. My boyfriend’s younger brother played the nice guy, deliberately bringing me undercooked green beans, causing me to get food poisoning with violent vomiting and diarrhea. He then ratted me out to his family, saying I was trying to steal food and he had been so smart to catch me. My boyfriend wouldn’t even listen to my explanation, calling me a manipulative bitch. They beat me and kicked me, not caring if I lived or died, and threw me out of the house, telling me to go find food. I froze to death, full of anger and resentment, right outside my own front door. I woke up with a jolt, staring at the TV screen showing a low-temperature warning. I grabbed my phone and called my boyfriend. This time around, I was going to make his whole family pay. 1 “The National Weather Service is predicting a major cold front coming in tomorrow, the strongest of the year so far.” The familiar weather report played on the TV. A wave of heat rushed through me, my chest burning with rage. After a brief but intense bout of pain, I fell to the floor, gasping for air. I opened my eyes, exhausted, to find myself lying in the living room of my mountain cabin. Unlike the image I remembered, filled with trash and grime, the room was clean, with a soft, new sheepskin rug. I had been reborn, ten days before the disaster. My parents bought this cabin for me. It wasn’t huge, one bedroom, two bathrooms, a living room, and a kitchen, but it was quiet and peaceful, with a gorgeous view of the mountain stream through the massive picture windows. My parents were always busy with work, so they tried to make up for it with material things. They bought this place because it was beautiful, secluded, and had all the latest amenities. I came up here for vacations and to relax whenever I could. But little did they know, it would become my tomb. The hunger I had felt before dying flooded my brain. I ran to the fridge, grabbed a chilled ham hock, and started stuffing it into my mouth, washing it down with a bottle of ice-cold Coke. I didn’t even care about the cold air blasting from the refrigerator. Compared to the arctic freeze that had killed me, this was practically a sauna. Just as I was indulging in my newfound happiness, a familiar ringtone, his ringtone, made me instinctively hide the food. That sound was like the Grim Reaper himself, bringing back memories of my hellish life. Last time, my boyfriend, Chad, had called me wanting to bring his family to my place. [“Babe, I heard you bought a cabin up in the mountains. Can my family come stay for a few days?”] [“You know, my parents are getting older, and they want to take a vacation. They think hotels are too expensive and would like to come stay at your place.”] [“You don’t want to disappoint them the first time they meet you, do you?”] I had been so head-over-heels for Chad that I didn’t think twice before agreeing. Looking back, I realized how messed up it was. How did he know I had bought the cabin? And how did he know the address? I had only told my best friend, Megan, who worked at the same company. We lived in the same apartment building, carpooled to work every day, and went out for drinks and movies on weekends. A couple of times Megan had wanted to come with me to the cabin, but it was my secret escape, so I always made excuses. Megan acted a little hurt, but she never said anything. Chad and I had gone to the same college. We ended up working in the same city after graduation. I was blinded by love. Thinking about it now, the warning signs were there all along. He’d show up at my office to take me to lunch. Whenever I got back to my apartment after lunch, Megan was always out. She’d make up all sorts of excuses for not being home. One time I was leaving to grab a coffee and overheard Megan on a voice call with a guy, and the voice sounded a lot like Chad’s. She looked up and saw me and panicked. She stammered and said it was a friend from years ago. Looking back, their acting was terrible. Those two had been hooking up behind my back for who knows how long. 2 Now, remembering those times, I hated myself for being so clueless, for not seeing through their lies. Last time, to make a good impression on his parents, I paid for their tickets and even drove to the bus station to pick them up. I didn’t want them to get lost, so I made sure I got all of their dietary restrictions and preferences. I acted like a servant catering to a master, trying to make them happy. But that family of entitled jerks treated me like I was beneath them. They ate my food, used my things, and constantly criticized everything I did. If they were unhappy about something, they threw a fit. When the cold wave hit, they kicked me out of my own house because I didn’t have enough food prepared for five people, they told me I wasn’t allowed back until I found more food. No matter how much I pounded on the door and screamed for help, they wouldn’t open it. Meanwhile, they were laughing and carrying on like nothing was wrong. [“It doesn’t matter how much money she has, my son tricked her. You have good taste, she is dumb enough to give him money and sex. You should marry Megan.”] [“If we let her join our family, she’ll probably give birth to a dumb grandkid.”] Outside, I shivered from the cold and from the anger that was building inside. Chad had been cheating on me with Megan all along. They just saw me as a walking ATM. I wasn’t going to run away this time. I had been betrayed and tortured by the people I trusted the most, and I had died of starvation and exposure. They were going to experience the same pain. I forced myself to calm down and answered the phone, acting excited. [“Really? Your whole family is coming?”] My hand was shaking, my whole body trembling with rage. [“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll make sure your parents are happy!”] I heard faint praise in the background. [“My son is so awesome! Just like his old man! He can just pick up any girl and she’ll provide for them.”] I pretended not to hear it and kept up the perfect girlfriend act. [“When are you guys coming? I can’t wait to meet your parents for the first time.”] Chad, emboldened by his family’s flattery and my obvious eagerness, became even more arrogant, sure that he had me completely under his thumb. [“We’ll be there in nine days. You better be ready, you hear? My parents already think of you as their daughter-in-law.”] I agreed, sounding like a dutiful wife. After hanging up, I grabbed a banana and pretended it was Chad. I chopped it into pieces. After releasing my anger, I mixed the chopped fruit with yogurt and lay down on the soft couch, watching trashy TV and eating. In this familiar, safe place, I drifted off to sleep. It was quiet and peaceful. I woke up when the sun filled the living room with golden light. The long-lost feeling of comfort made me wonder if the apocalypse had all been a nightmare. But then I looked at my phone, and saw the disaster warnings. My pain had been real. The cold wave was coming, bringing power outages, no running water, and freezing temperatures. This wasn’t a joke. Luckily, I had nine days to prepare before Chad and his family arrived. This time, I wouldn’t let them get away with anything. 3 The weather was getting colder, and the streets were mostly deserted. The supermarket was even quieter than usual; people weren’t worried and weren’t stocking up. After all, the weather report only called for a cold front. Nobody expected an apocalyptic freeze. I grabbed two shopping carts and headed straight for the frozen foods. Every kind of frozen food imaginable – dumplings, soups, noodles – anything that was easy to cook. I also grabbed long lasting fresh vegetables. When I was a kid we would save vegetables like this to eat in the spring. Everything went into my cart. I didn’t forget the snacks! Anything that looked good, I tossed into the cart. The cashier was in shock. If I hadn’t been paying for everything and acting normal, she probably would have thought I was robbing the place. After buying about two months’ worth of supplies, I told her I was throwing a big party and needed all this food. I paid extra to have the grocery store deliver it to my house. At the same time, I hired a construction crew to do some rush work on my cabin. The security system was already state-of-the-art. My parents had it installed because I was living alone. The main purpose of this construction was to install hidden cameras around the house. The most important part was the basement. I planned to live in the basement during the disaster. It had been built to shelter from storms, so it was very safe. The insulation was much better than in the main house. The basement would be warmer and use less energy. The basement had several exits, all hidden and disguised. Nobody would ever find them. If something went wrong, I could escape quickly. I didn’t care about the basement’s looks; I just wanted it done fast. I moved all my furniture, toys, collectibles, and cosmetics down there. I also installed a space heater and a wall of monitors so I could keep an eye on everything happening in the house. The passageway leading from the house to the basement was specially camouflaged. Nobody would find it except me. 4 Nine days later, Chad and his family were supposed to arrive at the cabin. I lay back on the lounge chair in the garden, soaking up the sun. It would be a while before I saw it again. My phone rang. [“Where the hell are you?”] I made my voice sound confused and frantic. [“What’s wrong, baby? Why aren’t you here yet?”] I swirled the wine in my glass and lounged in the chair. [“Where’s your house? The address you gave us is in the middle of nowhere! Are you messing with me, Megan?”] I bit back a laugh. [“Aren’t you on Peach Tree Lane? That’s where my house is.”] Chad was livid. [“Are you crazy? You wrote PINE Tree Lane, which is half a mountain away from Peach Tree Lane!”] I heard a chorus of angry voices on the other end of the phone. [“What kind of idiot did you pick up? She can’t even get the directions right.”] [“Chad, when you get there, smack her a few times to teach her a lesson.”] I ignored the angry accusations and pretended to be sorry. [“Oh, no! You need to turn around and come back! It’s going to get dark soon and you’ll have to spend the night on the mountain.”] I hung up, leaving them stranded in the middle of nowhere. Knowing they had to hike for hours in the cold and damp mountains to find a ride made my dinner taste extra delicious. It was pitch black, and I thought they were going to be stuck in the mountains all night. Then the caretaker called. On the road to my cabin, I had built a small, temporary cabin and hired a caretaker to register all visitors. I paid an actor who doubled as a bodyguard. I expected this family to be a handful. When I got there, they were covered in frost, their noses bright red, shivering and stomping their feet. I couldn’t stop the corners of my mouth from turning up. I almost burst out laughing. I lowered my head and put on a look of concern and regret, running to meet them to cover my glee. After composing myself, I looked at them with a face full of guilt. [“Aunt, Uncle! I was waiting for you all day! Why didn’t you call me when you got here?”] Chad saw me and came at me, his face red with anger. [“You stupid woman! How could you write down the wrong address? We’ve been hiking forever! I froze my ass off!”] The bodyguard had been waiting for this. He grabbed Chad’s arm and squeezed it hard. Chad screamed. [“Who do you think you are, putting your hands on my boss?”] The bodyguard was huge, six-foot-five and 250 pounds. He had a deep voice and a menacing presence. [“If my boss loses a hair on her head, you and your family are done for in this godforsaken place.”] The bodyguard stepped back and stood in front of me, staring Chad down. Chad rubbed his aching wrist, swallowed hard, and took a step back. I hid behind the bodyguard, looking upset. [“I didn’t mean to do it! I’m not good with directions. I missed you so much! I kept heating up dinner, waiting for you and your parents to arrive.”] Chad knew he couldn’t lay a hand on me. There was dinner waiting. He grudgingly accepted my apology. [“It’s a good thing you know what’s good for you. Take us to eat. We’ve been starving.”] I forced a smile and led them to the cabin. Because it was a family meal, I had the bodyguard take a break in the guardhouse. They hadn’t eaten all day, and I didn’t want to waste the special meal I had prepared.

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We were arguing in the car when the crash happened. My wife, Olivia, died instantly. By the time I woke up in the hospital, she’d already been cremated. Guilt ate me alive; I felt it was all my fault. I took care of her parents faithfully until they both passed away. But at their funeral, I saw someone who looked exactly like her. After some digging, I discovered the truth: the car crash was faked. She staged her death to ditch me and run off with her college dreamboat. When she found out I was investigating, she lured me to a mountain lookout and, when I wasn’t looking, shoved me off the edge. I blinked, and suddenly I was back in the car, back on that day, right before the argument. This time? If she wanted to play dead, I’d make sure she stayed that way. For good. 1 “Honey, I was thinking maybe we could go on a trip tomorrow? Like camping?” Olivia, my wife, suddenly draped herself over my arm, a complete flip from her usual icy demeanor. I stared at her, thrown by this unexpected warmth. In the four years we’d been married, Olivia had always kept me at arm’s length. If I suggested a vacation, she’d claim she was a homebody, only to turn around and hit the beach with her old college buddy, Mark. If I tried staying home to keep her company, she’d complain about needing “personal space” and tell me to leave her alone. Even intimacy was rare; she always seemed resistant. That’s why we still didn’t have kids. I’d always chalked it up to her personality, figuring enough care and affection would eventually thaw her out. So, when Olivia excitedly suggested this trip, I agreed without a second thought. I even called my best friend, Chris, practically bragging that I’d finally melted her frozen heart. But seeing me lost in thought, she instantly pulled her arm away, her face hardening. “What? You don’t want to go?” The flash of disgust in her eyes hit me like a ton of bricks. I finally got it. She was completely fed up with me. “I’d love to go,” I said carefully, “but your parents just got here. We can’t just leave them.” Her parents had arrived a few days earlier, supposedly to see how their daughter was doing. “Oh, don’t worry about us!” my mother-in-law chimed in, bustling in from the other room. “If Liv wants to go, you two should go. We’ll still be here when you get back.” Her eagerness felt… suspicious. Like she knew about the fake death plan all along. I nodded slowly. “Alright then. I’ll run to the grocery store, grab some things for you guys. Sorry to leave you hanging for a couple of days, but we’ll treat you to a nice dinner when we get back.” Relief washed over both their faces as I agreed. Downstairs, I didn’t head straight for the grocery store. First, I swung by an electronics shop and bought a tiny body camera, clipping it discreetly onto my hiking backpack. Then, I called Chris. He’s a big-shot investigative reporter. “Be near Eagle Crest Pass tomorrow morning,” I told him. “Trust me, there’s a huge story breaking.” He sounded skeptical but agreed to be there. Next stop: the pharmacy. I picked up some prescribed stomach medicine and some strong sleeping pills. When I got back from the grocery run, I found them all laughing and chatting cozily. The moment they saw me, the smiles vanished. I ignored it. “Mom, Dad, got all the groceries. I’ll prep some meals for you now, so you’ll have food ready for tomorrow and the day after.” My father-in-law, who’d made a bit of money in some small business years ago, always spoke with an air of superiority. “Now, Leo,” he started, “remember, no MSG when you cook. Plenty of vinegar, though. And make sure those greens are cooked until they’re mush…” His wife elbowed him lightly. “I don’t really care for your cooking, Leo,” she added, trying to sound polite. “Always seems a bit… off. But I suppose we’ll manage while you’re gone.” I swallowed my irritation and cooked anyway, making sure to label everything carefully. “Mom,” I said, pointing, “this is for tomorrow, this is for the day after. Don’t mix them up.” “Some of this stuff spoils quickly,” I added pointedly. “Could give you an upset stomach if you eat it on the wrong day.” At the mention of stomach trouble, my father-in-law grumbled some more, but thankfully, he seemed to register which food was for which day. 2 We hit the road early the next morning. I’d deliberately oversalted the breakfast I made. Olivia, driving, started complaining almost immediately. “Can’t you do anything right, Leo? Even making breakfast… way too much salt. No wonder Dad says your cooking sucks.” I calmly handed her an open bottle of water. “Sorry about that, honey. Here, drink some water.” She gulped down half the bottle and handed it back. “Hey, the mountain road up ahead gets tricky,” I offered. “Want me to take over driving?” She stiffened instantly, suddenly defensive. “No, I’m fine. I feel like driving today.” I just nodded. Any lingering shred of hope I had for her, for us, finally dissolved. We pulled into a rest stop halfway up. She told me to go dump the trash while she stayed in the car, making a call. I walked a good distance away, then switched on the listening device I’d planted earlier. “Okay, listen,” her voice came through, sharp and businesslike. “Be ready at Eagle Crest Pass. Splash plenty of fake blood around – make it look convincing. Got it?” Pause. “And put that fake rock prop right in the middle of the road. I’ll drive straight into it. Make sure you get good photos.” Another pause. “Don’t worry, you’ll get paid well once this is done.” Silence, then another call. “Mark? Hey! It’s happening soon. We’ll finally be together. Did you remind your uncle to get that death certificate ready? Just hand it directly to the guy who comes with me… Leo.” Pause. “Yeah, the cremation place is all set. Someone’s waiting to handle things on that end.” Another pause, her voice turning syrupy sweet. “Mark, baby, we’re almost there. God, if it wasn’t for that settlement money that idiot got, I would never have wasted my time on him.” In the previous timeline, right after her “death,” Mark had shown up with a bogus IOU for ten million dollars he claimed she owed him. Drowning in guilt and egged on by her parents, I’d sold my house and handed over every penny I had. God, I was such a fool back then. I waited until she hung up, then walked back to the car. She held out an already opened carton of milk. “Here,” she said, trying to sound considerate. “Drink this. You barely touched your breakfast; don’t want you getting hungry on the road.” I took the milk and, under her watchful, expectant gaze, drank the whole thing. Joke’s on her. I was the one who packed the car. I’d swapped her doctored milk with a perfectly normal one hours ago. 3 I sent a quick text to Chris: Eagle Crest Pass. Get ready. If you see anyone suspicious setting something up, film them discreetly, then call the cops. With everything in motion, a strange calm settled over me. Still, looking at the woman I’d loved, or thought I loved, for so many years, knowing how this would end… a flicker of regret, maybe pity, sparked inside me. I just watched her quietly for a moment. She noticed my gaze and recoiled. “God, stop looking at me like that,” she snapped, her voice dripping with disdain. “It’s disgusting. Like you’ve never seen a woman before.” “Honestly, Leo, you’re just… pathetic. No ambition. I genuinely can’t stand you.” After I got that settlement money, all I wanted was to relax, enjoy life, spend time with family. But in her eyes, that translated to pathetic. My gaze turned cold. “Then why did you marry me, Olivia? If you didn’t love me, why stay with me?” “Because you wouldn’t leave me alone!” she spat back. “Clinging like some pathetic lost puppy! I only stuck around because I felt sorry for you!” Felt sorry for me. Right. Sure, I pursued her. Hard. Dropped a fortune doing it – expensive bags, designer clothes, fancy dinners at places I couldn’t really afford. She never said no, never even hinted she wasn’t interested. Now I was the pathetic one? I let out a long sigh, picking up the water bottle I’d given her earlier. It was nearly empty. “Okay, okay, my bad,” I said, handing it to her. “Here, finish this. Calm down.” She shot me a sideways glare but took the bottle and drained the rest. I watched her closely. Her eyelids started to droop. She looked like she was fighting sleep. Time was running out. “Honey,” I said gently, “maybe I should drive now? You look tired. Eagle Crest Pass is just up ahead.” We were heading to a campsite high in the mountains. All the turns and passes looked similar up here; it was easy to get confused if you weren’t paying close attention. The mention of “Eagle Crest Pass” jolted her awake. “I’m perfectly fine driving!” she snapped, suddenly alert. “Why are you so insistent on taking over? Don’t you trust my driving?” She was picking a fight, trying to replicate the scenario from the last time, trying to get me out of the car so she could stage the accident. “That’s not it,” I said, feigning helplessness. “I’m just worried you’re tired.” “Oh, I think you don’t trust me! God, you’re such a worrier, always nagging. I’m not made of glass, Leo!” “And remember that hospital project investment I told you about? Mark’s project? You hesitated! So useless!” Mark’s hospital venture. I knew it was shady, probably skirting the law, but Olivia had pushed, so I’d sunk over a million into it. Lost every cent. Afterward, Olivia blamed me, claiming I didn’t invest enough. I glanced at the clock. Past noon. Her parents would have likely eaten their lunch by now. The lunch I’d prepared. “Just get out! I don’t want to look at you!” she yelled. We were on a winding mountain road, miles from anywhere. No chance of catching a cab. But she didn’t care. I looked at her one last time. Her eyes were slits, struggling to stay open. “I… alright,” I stammered, playing my part. “Just… be careful driving, okay? Eagle Crest Pass is right around the bend.” “Get out!” she screamed. The car screeched to a halt. I opened the door and stepped out. The mountain road was deserted. Just me, the wind, and the tiny red light blinking almost imperceptibly on my backpack strap. She didn’t know. Eagle Crest Pass wasn’t this turnoff. It was the next one. 4 I tossed the empty water bottle she’d drunk from into a roadside trash bin, then quickly called Chris. The second I hung up, a deafening BOOM echoed from up ahead. Thick black smoke billowed into the clear mountain air. I sprinted forward. The car… or what was left of it… was completely engulfed in flames, already burning down to a skeletal frame. I dropped to my knees on the asphalt, forcing out gut-wrenching sobs. Soon, sirens wailed in the distance. Someone must have called 911. An ambulance arrived, police cars right behind them, quickly sealing off the mountain road. They loaded Olivia’s… remains… and me into the same ambulance. At the hospital, the official verdict came quickly: severe burns, deceased upon arrival. An autopsy would be required. Tears streaming (or so it seemed), I nodded my consent. Then, I immediately sought out her dear friend, Mark. “Mark,” I choked out, playing the distraught husband. “I don’t know anyone here… the doctors… they said they need to do an autopsy on Olivia… I…” Mark looked genuinely startled to see me conscious and walking around. According to their plan, I should have been passed out cold somewhere. He fumbled for his phone, dialed a number. It rang and rang, unanswered. He looked flustered. “Call her parents,” he instructed me curtly. I made a show of dialing their number several times. No answer. Mark looked increasingly uneasy, but he stuck to the script. He produced a folded document. “Here,” he said, handing it to me. “Death certificate. Signed.” This meant no autopsy. He couldn’t risk them finding the sleeping pills still in her system. If they found that, I’d be implicated too. 5 After arranging things with the crematorium staff – specifically, the contact he mentioned – Mark turned back to me. “Okay, the funeral home is expecting you. Just take her straight there.” He seemed hesitant, reaching as if to pull back the white sheet covering Olivia. I quickly stepped in. “Just… straight to cremation?” I asked, feigning confusion and grief. “Don’t they need to examine the body or anything? Maybe I should check back with that coroner…” Mark’s hand froze. He clearly didn’t want anyone looking too closely. “Just go!” he snapped, impatient. “Do what I told you. Take her to Henderson at the crematorium. Give him this.” He thrust the death certificate into my hand. Heart pounding, but keeping my hand trembling, I took the certificate and headed for the crematorium. Just as instructed, I found the guy named Henderson and handed him the paperwork. He scanned the death certificate, then glanced grimly at the body bag on the gurney. His brow furrowed deeply. He reached for the phone on his desk.

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Spring Break, and the old college group chat suddenly blew up. Jessica Miller was bragging, practically shouting through the screen: “Guess what? I’m engaged to Brandon Prescott! You know, the eldest son of the Prescott family? This weekend, I’m going to the family estate to meet everyone, get the whole official welcome. Get ready for wedding invites soon!” Everyone immediately started kissing up to her, blowing smoke like crazy. Then, like clockwork, they ganged up to tag me: “Unlike some people, who not only kiss up to their advisors but probably sleep with them too.” I just scoffed and didn’t reply. It was the same old garbage. All because I accidentally walked in on her getting way too cozy with our married academic advisor, she flipped it and spread rumors that I was the one having an affair with him. Pathetic. Just then, my phone buzzed with a message from Arthur Prescott himself, the patriarch of the Prescott dynasty: “Ma’am, my grandson’s fiancée is visiting the estate tomorrow to be formally introduced and added to the family records. We’d be honored if you could join us.” Yeah, nobody ever believes it. That the most senior member of the Prescott family, the one who literally holds the pen for the family registry, the one sitting on billions, is a twenty-two-year-old college student. Me. … The moment I stepped out of the Rolls-Royce Mr. Prescott sent for me and stood before the grand entrance of the ancestral home, I tilted my head back, looking up at the old stone archway. Walking inside, I headed towards the back gardens. But then, from a secluded spot deep within the old wooded area near the edge of the property, I heard… sounds. Soft moans. My curiosity piqued, I crept closer, quiet as a mouse. Leaves rustled in the breeze, and through a gap, I saw them. My eyes widened. I stared hard at the woman. It was Jessica, looking flushed, wrapped around some guy I didn’t recognize. They were all over each other. Her eyes met mine. She instantly shoved the man away. She froze, frantically smoothing her clothes, then shot me a look so full of venom it could curdle milk. Then they both scrambled away. I was confused, but Mr. Prescott’s future granddaughter-in-law was arriving today. I decided to keep quiet for now. A little while later, as I was about to enter the main house where the family gathers, I noticed a forgotten broom lying near the entrance path. I bent down to pick it up. As I straightened and walked into the main hall, I was met with bursts of laughter. I looked up, and my eyes locked with Jessica’s. I frowned slightly. Jessica blinked, then her eyes raked over me from head to toe. She smirked at her gaggle of friends clustered behind her, then crossed her arms and sauntered towards me. She glanced pointedly at the broom in my hand, then back at my face. “Well, well,” she sneered. “Look who it is. Our esteemed student body president, moonlighting as a cleaning lady at the Prescott estate. And here I thought you were so high and mighty.” Her friends behind her burst into mocking laughter. The sound grated on my ears. My nails dug into my palms. “What are you doing here?” I demanded, keeping my voice low. A flicker of pure nastiness crossed Jessica’s face before one of her friends jumped in. “Jessica is going to be the future Mrs. Prescott, you idiot. This is the Prescott family home. Naturally, she’ll be your boss soon enough.” Another one linked arms with Jessica, practically dripping fake sweetness. “Oh, Jessica, I wish I had your luck! Marrying into the Prescott family… all that money and status…” Jessica soaked it up, a smug little smile playing on her lips. I dropped my gaze, stepping around them towards the main room. I couldn’t resist a cold chuckle. “He must be blind then,” I muttered, “ending up with someone like you.” Suddenly, a hand clamped down hard on my arm. “What did you say?! Did I say you could leave?” Jessica blocked my path. Her friends quickly surrounded me, trapping me in the middle. I couldn’t move. Before I could react, someone grabbed my hair from behind, yanking me backward. As I struggled, Jessica kicked me hard in the back of my knee. My leg buckled. I crumpled, landing hard on my knees on the polished floor. She crouched down in front of me, gripping my chin, her fingers digging in. A cruel smile spread across her face. “Still sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong, aren’t you? Seeing things you shouldn’t see, saying things you shouldn’t say. You just never learn.” 2 I thrashed, trying to get away, but Jessica violently shoved me, sending me sprawling onto the floor. She planted her high heel squarely on the back of my hand, the sharp point grinding into my skin. Pain shot up my arm. I could feel the skin break. Jessica’s face was twisted with malice. She placed a hand protectively on her stomach, smiling sweetly. “You know, if you’d just told me you were working here as a cleaner, I could have put in a good word for you.” Summoning all my strength, I shoved upwards with my free hand. She stumbled backward, momentarily losing her balance. Her friends gasped and rushed behind her, cushioning her fall. Jessica looked genuinely shaken for a second. Painfully, I pushed myself up. Blood dripped from my hand onto the pristine floor. One of her friends charged forward, kicking me hard in the stomach. I gasped, doubling over, and fell to the floor again. Pain washed over me. Tears stung my eyes, blurring my vision. “You little bitch!” Jessica shrieked, grabbing a fistful of my hair. “This baby is the future Prescott heir! Are you trying to kill me? Is that it?” She started slapping me, hard, across the face, again and again. My mouth filled with the coppery taste of blood. My ears were ringing. I looked up at her, managing a weak, knowing smile. “Prescott heir? Are you so sure about that?” That hit a nerve. It struck the core of her insecurity. Jessica’s grip loosened slightly. She spun around, trying to regain her composure, projecting false confidence. “Don’t you dare spread lies! This baby is a Prescott!” I slowly, shakily, got to my feet again. I laughed softly. “Why so defensive? I never said it wasn’t.” Her friends exchanged uneasy glances. “You think everyone’s as disgusting as you?” Jessica spat, pointing a shaking finger at me. “Going after married advisors? You’re just trash.” She was dredging up the lie from last year. The Photoshopped pictures she’d plastered all over the campus network. The university, desperate to protect the advisor’s reputation, had pinned it all on me, leaving a permanent black mark on my record. Thinking about it made my chest tighten with fury. My eyes found Sarah Chen, standing nervously on the edge of the group. I grabbed her arm, my voice rising. “Sarah! You were right there with me! Tell them the truth!” Sarah lowered her head, trembling. “Sarah, please,” I begged, my voice softer now. “Forget about last year. I just need you to tell the truth now. Give me that much.” I looked at her, hope flickering inside me. But then Jessica sidled up to Sarah, leaning in and whispering something in her ear. Sarah finally lifted her head. The look she gave me was… unreadable. Troubling. My stomach clenched with dread. Sure enough, when Sarah turned to face the others, she squeezed her eyes shut and yelled, “I saw her! I saw Ava sitting on the advisor’s lap!” Jessica let out a triumphant, ugly laugh. I just stood there, stunned. A bitter, hollow smile touched my lips. 3 Jessica gestured to her friends. They closed in on me again, grabbing at my clothes, shoving their phone cameras right in my face. My cries of pain and humiliation only seemed to fuel their amusement. Before I could process what was happening, someone grabbed the broom from near the entrance and swung it hard, hitting me across the back. I tried to fight back, to push them away, but I was outnumbered and weak. I squeezed my eyes shut, overwhelmed by shame and helplessness. I heard a sharp intake of breath, then the whistle of the broom swinging down again. But instead of hitting me, someone threw themselves in front of me, taking the blow. I twisted my head. It was Sarah, her face pale. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed. I shoved her away forcefully. “What kind of act is this now?!” I yelled, tears finally breaking free and streaming down my face despite my anger. Jessica snatched the broom back, her face contorted with rage, and lunged at me again. The blow landed hard. I choked, spitting a spray of blood onto the floor. Suddenly, one of the household staff, an older woman, rushed over. She bowed slightly, wringing her hands. “Miss, please, please stop hitting her!” Jessica grabbed the woman by her uniform collar. “You better think carefully who you’re crossing,” she hissed. “You piss me off, and you won’t have a job here much longer.” The housekeeper looked at me with pity, then clutched something in her pocket – her phone? – and scurried back towards the main house. Just then, a sleek Aston Martin pulled up to the front entrance. The first person out was Jessica’s fiancé, Brandon Prescott. He respectfully opened the back door. A man in his sixties, radiating authority and vitality despite his age, stepped out. Arthur Prescott. Jessica saw them and immediately switched gears, pressing a hand to her mouth in mock fragility. “See?” she whispered loudly to her friends. “That’s the father of my child. The sole Prescott heir.” Her friends oohed and aahed, showering her with more fake praise. She glided towards Brandon, pausing beside me to shoot me a venomous look. “You just wait,” she whispered. “Brandon won’t let you get away with this.” She practically collapsed into Brandon’s arms, dabbing at dry eyes. “Honey, you came just in time! They almost killed me and the baby!” Brandon’s chest puffed out. He glared around furiously. “Who dared touch you?” he roared. Jessica burrowed her head into his chest, a tiny, triumphant smile hidden from his view. She clutched her stomach, leaning heavily on him. “Brandon,” she whimpered, “my stomach hurts so much.” Her friends immediately pointed at me. “It was her! She pushed Jessica to the ground!” Brandon’s icy gaze fixed on me. He strode over and planted his foot firmly on my shoulder, pinning me down. “Who the hell gave you the nerve?” he growled. His presence was overwhelming, radiating power and menace. Behind him, the older Mr. Prescott tapped his cane impatiently on the ground. His voice was stern, commanding. “Brandon! What is this behavior? Right at the entrance?” Brandon shot me one last glare before reluctantly removing his foot. Jessica immediately turned to the grandfather, playing the victim again. “Grandpa, she almost killed your great-grandchild!” Mr. Prescott patted her shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t worry, dear. I’ll make sure justice is served. But we have more important matters to attend to right now.” A strange feeling washed over me. I struggled to lift my head, meeting Mr. Prescott’s eyes. My voice was hoarse. “Did you invite me back here just so I could be publicly humiliated?” The moment the words left my mouth, Mr. Prescott’s cane slipped from his grasp and clattered onto the stone pathway. His face went slack with shock. He stumbled towards me, his body trembling. He knelt, peering closely at my bruised and bloody face. Then, he gasped and collapsed backward, sitting heavily on the ground. “M-Ma’am,” he stammered, his voice choked with disbelief. “Ma’am!” Brandon quickly picked up the cane and rushed to his grandfather’s side, helping him up. “Grandpa? What’s wrong?” Mr. Prescott snatched the cane back and, without warning, swung it hard against Brandon’s legs. Brandon yelped and buckled, falling to his knees right in front of me. “You blind fool!” the old man roared. Then, Arthur Prescott, head of the Prescott dynasty, bowed his head low before me, his shoulders shaking. Tears streamed down his face. “Ma’am,” he choked out, “it’s my failure… my failure in raising him… letting this animal hurt you… Punish me, Ma’am. Whatever you see fit… I won’t object…”

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My livestream got yanked. Again. And again. And again. My agent, Brenda, let out a long sigh over the phone. She told me not to worry about the stream for now, said she’d booked me a spot on a reality show. Oh, and Jessica Miller was going to be on it too. Brenda reminded me our statuses were worlds apart now and basically told me not to cause any trouble for her. Jessica Miller? You mean my dear “best friend” who stole my senior thesis project, flipped the script to frame me for plagiarism, and single-handedly nuked my acting career? Heh. How exactly should I act to make this long-overdue reunion truly memorable? 2 “Rural Roots” was the country’s first big “slow-living” reality show. The main goal was to showcase country life and boost the local economy. The meeting spot was the entrance to Harmony Creek village. I was the last one to arrive. As I got closer, I heard Jessica’s sickeningly sweet voice drifting over. “Please don’t be upset, sir,” she was cooing to someone. “Maya probably lives far away; I’m sure she didn’t mean to keep us all waiting.” There it was. That familiar tone. God, brings back memories. Before the other person could even respond, I beat her to the punch. “The call time set by the production team was 8:50 AM. It’s currently 8:25 AM. I arrived at the designated meeting point within the specified time. What exactly did I do wrong?” I paused, then added, “And ‘Maya’? Ms. Miller, are we pretending we’re close now?” Jessica choked on her words. She was so used to the usual Hollywood dance of fake niceties and backstabbing, she clearly didn’t expect me to just call her out directly. But, true to form, the professional two-face switched tactics instantly. She sidled up to me, eyes glistening like she was about to cry. “Maya, are you still mad at me? I… I just cared so much about my work back then, I couldn’t control myself, I just had to tell the truth…” She even tried to grab my hand, but I snatched it away. Beside her, some other male guest, Kevin something, shot me a dirty look. “Jessica, don’t blame yourself. It’s not like she has any right to be mad after plagiarizing.” Jessica kept up her act, pretending to “defend” me. I was about to let him have it when I saw my assistant behind the camera making a frantic throat-slitting gesture at me. Right. Keep it together for the cameras. Just then, a cool voice cut in. “When do we start filming in the village?” Someone nearby immediately scrambled. “Right away, right away.” A guy got out of a black SUV. Even with a baseball cap pulled low, you could tell he was seriously good-looking. He gave a curt nod to the group, a general greeting, and then just headed straight into the village. The camera operator assigned to him hurried to follow. I remembered my assistant briefing me last night – there was supposed to be a newly famous, award-winning actor on this shoot who wasn’t exactly Mr. Congeniality. Ethan Shi. That must’ve been him. 3 The first segment of the show was called “Honest Work.” Everyone had seen the production notes, but when we got to the actual location, we all just stood there, stunned. Before us stretched what looked like an ocean of green, endless fields of cornstalks reaching as far as the eye could see. Nothing but corn. Someone let out a groan. “Don’t tell me we have to harvest all this.” Instant drama for the cameras, perfect. While everyone else was taking in the “scenic view,” I turned to Jessica, lowered my voice, and smirked. “Dare you?” Jessica glared back at me. “Who’s afraid of who!” Before she could even process it, I grabbed her arm and dragged her right in front of the main camera. “Ms. Miller just challenged me to a corn-husking contest!” I announced brightly. “We need you all to be witnesses! We agreed that whoever loses has to wear pig ears and a nose for everyone to see. So please, keep us honest, folks!” Jessica finally realized she’d been played. The smile on her face nearly cracked, but she managed to keep her voice soft. “Maya, stop messing around.” She tried to pull her arm away, putting some force into it. Nice try. Like I’d let you break free after all those years of Taekwondo practice. The production team, loving the potential for drama and content, was more than happy to let us have our little competition. They even marked off two separate sections just for us. Normally, on these kinds of shows, the guests don’t have to do much real labor once the crew gets enough footage. Now, suddenly forced into this contest, Jessica didn’t show anything on camera, but behind the scenes, she shot me a few venomous looks. Pfft. Like looks could actually hurt me. The competition started mid-afternoon. We were decked out in full sun gear, heading into the cornfield under the blazing sun. Jessica quickly fell behind. Before long, I heard a cry from behind me. I turned just in time to witness Jessica’s dramatic collapse, like a delicate flower wilting to the ground. Everyone rushed over, and she was quickly whisked away to a local clinic or hospital. Suddenly, the filming location was almost empty, just a few scattered crew members left. I glanced towards the far end of the field. The A-list actor, Ethan, was either deaf or just completely unfazed. He was still husking corn, working away like a diligent old workhorse. The assistant director eventually said they had enough footage. I dusted myself off, waiting for the slightly-delayed movie star. We both ended up climbing onto an old farm truck. The thing clattered and banged down the dirt road for maybe fifty yards before sputtering to a stop. Out of gas. Of course. Resigned, Ethan and I hopped off the truck and started walking back towards the village, him slightly ahead, me trailing behind. I had no intention of striking up a conversation. But then he spoke first. “I really liked the princess.” “What?” I asked, confused. He paused for a few seconds. “The little princess from the fallen kingdom.” I froze. He was talking about the very first movie I ever did. I still remember the headlines after that film came out. “The most soulful young actress of the century.” “A natural talent blessed by the gods.” … But all of that vanished after the plagiarism scandal, like a drop of water falling into the ocean, gone without a trace. I leaned in closer to him, whispering, “You’re a huge star, Mr. Shi. We don’t really need to do the whole fake ‘mutual admiration’ thing, do we?” My sudden closeness must have startled him; he stumbled back. Instinctively, I grabbed his arm to steady him, but somehow, my momentum carried us both sideways, and we ended up stumbling right into a muddy patch beside the road. Seriously??? On the walk back, neither of us bothered bringing up our earlier topic. Maybe it was just my imagination, but I could have sworn I detected a flicker of something like disappointment in Ethan’s expression. What did he have to be disappointed about? When we finally trudged back into the village, covered in mud, there was Jessica. Dressed in some kind of flowy, vaguely traditional-looking dress, sitting serenely in a little gazebo in the middle of the courtyard, sipping tea. Looking for all the world like a picture of perfect tranquility. Drinking tea, the little snake. Tsk tsk. “Ethan, did you fall?” Jessica gasped, immediately grabbing a towel from nearby and rushing over, intending to wipe the mud off him. Ethan sidestepped her smoothly. “No need. Give the towel to Maya.” And with that, he went straight into the house assigned to him. Jessica’s hand, holding the towel, hung awkwardly in mid-air for a few seconds before she remembered the cameras. She turned towards me, forcing a smile that was pure venom underneath. “You wouldn’t actually try to give me your towel, would you?” I muttered, keeping my voice low. Jessica leaned in close, her smile fixed, but her voice was ice. “A Z-list streamer who belongs to doing thirst traps online, now trying to climb the ladder on a reality show? Don’t tell me you’re actually thinking you can hook up with Ethan Shi and get back into acting? Let me warn you, Maya. Stay away from him! I ruined your reputation once, and I can make sure you rot in the gutter for good!” She finished her threat, then swept away, proud as a peacock. And there I stood, covered in mud, feeling like I was right back in that period after the thesis disaster. She had secretly deleted all the files related to my project from my computer, changing the dates. During rehearsals, she’d said she wanted to ‘surprise’ me. Then, the day before the final presentation, she claimed she was too nervous and asked if we could switch places, letting her go first. I agreed to everything. So, when the curtain rose on her performance, there were audible gasps from the audience. And Jessica, wearing an identical costume to mine, sat in the audience, wearing the exact same expression she had just now. Smug. Self-satisfied. Gloating. The department head was furious. My agency demanded to know why I was so stupid – plagiarism was one thing, but a direct copy-paste? Once the reporters published their stories, my career was effectively over. Nobody believed me. … If I wanted to actually hurt her, really do some damage, I couldn’t keep playing these harmless little pranks. I lifted my head and glanced towards the second floor of the main house. That was— Ethan Shi’s room. Stay away from him, she said? Heh. 4 I have trouble sleeping in strange beds. I woke up before dawn. Two nights in a row with bad sleep left me feeling completely drained and out of it. I peeked out the window. Nobody around. I snuck into the kitchen, found a small bag of oats, lit the wood stove, and filled a pot with water. Soon, the comforting smell of cooking oatmeal started to fill the air. I sat on the stool in front of the stove, letting out a satisfied yawn. A little while later, Ethan floated out like a ghost, sporting impressive bedhead and holding a bowl. “Mind if I grab some?” His look was a far cry from the cool, aloof movie star of yesterday. I smiled. “Of course.” We sat in silence for a bit. Just the sound of the oatmeal bubbling away. Ostensibly, I was watching the pot, but my peripheral vision was locked on the doorway. Right on cue, Jessica emerged, walking with that practiced gentle grace. When she saw Ethan and me sitting together by the stove, her composure almost slipped. “Oh, that smells wonderful!” she chirped, sliding smoothly into the space between us like she belonged there. “Can I have some too?” “No.” The blunt refusal came from Ethan. Jessica faltered, visibly surprised, and glanced at him. Ethan didn’t even look at her. After his one-word reply, his gaze was fixed intently on the oatmeal. Nicely done! Maybe this was what they meant by karma? Serves her right. 5 The first filming block ended at noon today. During the lull after breakfast, when everyone was just hanging around, I casually brought up the matter of the pig face punishment. Every pore on Jessica’s body screamed resistance. Her entire brand was built on being pure and beautiful. If footage of her looking ridiculous like that got out, who knew how many fans she’d lose. “But I fainted yesterday,” she protested weakly. “That doesn’t really count, does it?” “Fine by me,” I shrugged. “We can just go by the scores before you conveniently passed out. Doesn’t matter to me.” Kevin, the guy who’d defended her earlier, glared at me. “Maya, don’t push it.” I glared right back. “A bet’s a bet. You accept the challenge, you face the consequences. Simple as that.” Seeing that neither side was backing down, the production team, having gotten plenty of dramatic footage, decided to stir the pot further. “Alright, since there’s a disagreement, let’s settle this with an anonymous vote. We’ll see what everyone thinks.” Jessica gritted her teeth, clearly furious. She cast a pleading, doe-eyed look around at the male guests and crew members, the implication obvious. The final result showed that all her batting her eyes had been for nothing. 6 Everyone except Jessica voted for the pig face punishment. Kevin, the guy who’d just confronted me, had the grace to look embarrassed, scratching his head. “Uh, I thought about it… might be a funny contrast, you know?” Yeah, right. Funny contrast my ass. Jessica shot him daggers before storming off to the makeup trailer. She emerged nearly an hour and a half later. The moment she appeared, everyone burst out laughing. There she was, still in her flowy dress, her eye makeup impeccable, but sporting a huge prosthetic pig nose and floppy pig ears. Her cheeks were also padded out, making her face look round and puffy. You could still tell it was Jessica Miller. But simultaneously, she looked absolutely ridiculous. I guessed this final look was the result of some negotiation between Jessica and the makeup artist. She probably never dreamed the outcome would be this bad. … Once the segment wrapped, people started packing up and leaving in their assigned vehicles. My assistant had called last night; he got temporarily reassigned and would be late picking me up. Jessica was just about to get into her car when she saw me standing alone. Leaning against the open door, she said sweetly, “Maya, don’t you have an assistant? Need a ride back to the city? It’s really hard to get a cab out here.” Her eyes, however, were filled with pure, unadulterated glee at my apparent predicament. “She’s with me.” Ethan appeared seemingly out of nowhere, grabbed my suitcase from the courtyard, tossed it into the back of his SUV, and turned to me. “What are you waiting for? Didn’t you say you had something urgent back home?” I practically skipped over to Ethan’s SUV, leaned against the open passenger door, and beamed at Jessica. “Sorry, Ms. Miller, looks like I already have plans!” I deliberately made it sound suggestive and intriguing, then slammed the door shut. I immediately peeked back through the tinted window, watching Jessica’s reaction. Seeing her face twist with rage was deeply satisfying. I finally settled back into my seat. Only then did I remember the person sitting next to me. Ethan had clearly witnessed the entire exchange but didn’t call me out on my little performance. The car was already moving. He leaned back against the seat, holding a book with only a few pages left. The spine showed two words in elegant script: The Painted Veil He was sitting slightly turned, sunlight streaming through the window, catching the lines of his face, making him look almost ethereal. God, he had one of those unfairly handsome faces. “You like Maugham too?” I asked. Ethan nodded. He looked at me then, his gaze steady. “The line, ‘I knew you were second-rate, but I loved you.’ That one stuck with me.” It was only then I noticed that Ethan’s eyes were actually amber-colored. They had a strange, captivating quality. For a fleeting moment, I had the bizarre feeling that I was the ‘second-rate’ person he was talking about, and the ‘you’ in ‘I loved you’ was also me. Thankfully, he quickly looked back down at his book, missing the weird look that must have crossed my face. “Have you ever been in love?” he asked, not looking up. Uh. “I guess you could say that…” “‘Guess’?” I gave an awkward laugh. “Well, I’m not totally sure if it counts as ‘love.’ My deskmate back in middle school, this really sweet, kind of chubby kid. He used to bring me snacks every single day, all sorts of things. And each snack always had a little handwritten note with it – sometimes encouragement, sometimes math formulas. I’d never met a boy so genuinely kind. But then he transferred schools really suddenly… Anyway, first crushes, right? They usually fizzle out. It’s normal.” Just as I was talking, Ethan’s phone rang. He murmured an apology and answered it. Sounded like he was discussing AI voice simulation technology and audio conversion? Very technical terms I didn’t quite follow. Conveniently, my apartment building was just up ahead. I asked the driver to pull over. After thanking Ethan, I quickly got out and headed inside. …

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The day my twin brother was tortured to death by a criminal, he called my sister-in-law, a homicide detective, countless times. She didn’t answer any of them. His voice was barely a whisper when he finally got through to me. “Bro, can you take care of Sarah and the kid for me? If I’m not there for them, they won’t make it…” He didn’t breathe his last until I nodded my head, promising him. What he didn’t know was that I’d been secretly in love with Sarah for ten years myself. For a while, I thought I could finally be with her openly, even if it was under the pretense of being my brother. But even when our nephew, little Mikey, was kidnapped and tortured to death by the same criminal, she was out on the streets helping her old flame find his lost dog. That’s when I realized it: Sarah had never loved my brother, never loved me, and probably didn’t even care about her own son. The only person she ever cared about was that old flame. Eventually, I just gave up. I left the truth on her nightstand and took my brother and nephew’s ashes far away from her… And she went completely nuts, searching the world for us, begging for forgiveness. … My five-year-old nephew was kidnapped by Sarah’s old enemies, just to get her to show her face. “We’re giving you two hours! Get Sarah down here! Or you can start planning a funeral!” Hearing the news that Mikey had been snatched felt like getting hit by a freight train. My brother’s dying wish echoed in my ears. Mikey couldn’t die. He just couldn’t. I went into a frenzy trying to find Sarah, but all I saw was her post on social media about a lost dog. “Huge reward for my baby, Buster! If you find him, I’ll make it worth your while!” The picture showed her snuggled up close with her old boyfriend, Rick, hugging a little dog like they were one big happy family. My blood boiled. I finally got through to her on the phone with two hours to spare. “Sarah, where are you? Mikey’s been kidnapped! They want you to come, can you send the police to rescue him? He’s only five years old…” She cut me off before I could even finish. Her voice was ice cold. “Is he dead yet? If not, don’t bother me!” “He went to kindergarten! What could have happened? You think you can threaten me with my own kid?” “Buster is Rick’s therapy dog, you know. If he can’t find Buster, he’ll be depressed! Can you just stop being so selfish?” My fingernails dug into my palms, but the pain wasn’t a fraction of the pain in my heart. A living, breathing child meant less than a dog?! In the kidnapper’s video, Mikey was crying his heart out. Even with his tendons cut, his little face still held a glimmer of hope. “Mom is a homicide detective! Mom will come save me…” But she never showed up. Instead, she told her colleagues to ignore me. I went to the police station, begging them to go after him, but they just laughed. “Tsk, guess the Captain was right. Lying right here at the station! You know it’s against the law to make a false police report?!” I cried, desperate, bowing to them over and over again to try and get them to help. “Please… please, he’s really been kidnapped! I’ll do anything. Please, just help…” I was bleeding from the head when the officer in charge finally looked at me. “Enough! Stop with the theatrics. I don’t mind telling you, the Captain took the whole squad out to find that dog…” “Rick is the most important person in her life, everyone else can just wait.” I was at the end of my rope. I did the only thing I could, I posted about it online, asking for anyone to help. But I was too late. By the time I arrived at the scene, the kidnappers were gone, leaving Mikey dying on the ground. The ground was covered in blood. His little body was broken and battered… He had over a dozen stab wounds, and his tendons had been sliced. He was only five! How could anyone do that to him?! His eyes were already glazed over, but he refused to close them… He opened his mouth, his voice so faint I could barely hear him. “Why…? Why didn’t Mom come save me…?” “Am I really worth less than Uncle Rick’s dog?” I just shook my head. A metallic taste filled my mouth. The grief was so overwhelming I couldn’t speak. “Dad… I’m sorry. I can’t play soccer with you anymore…” Every word he spoke cut me deeper. “No, you’re not my dad. I knew you were my uncle all along… But I love you, too. Maybe we can be real father and son next time, okay…” Mikey’s hand went limp. I stared at him, tears streaming down my face. He knew? But he still treated me with such pure love. It was my fault. I failed to protect him… I held him close and ran outside, desperate. My phone accidentally turned on the video in my social media feed. I heard Sarah’s happy, excited voice, “Thank you, everyone! My dog is home!” “Woof woof!” “Buster, stop licking me, you tickle! Haha.” My grief and Sarah’s joy collided, twisting into something grotesque. 2 I don’t know how I made it home… I remembered that every time I opened the door, Mikey would run to me, hug me, and call me Dad. But now, even when I held him tight, trying to warm him up, he just got colder and colder, until he was completely lifeless. My hands shook as I washed his body, putting him in his favorite clothes to send him on his final journey. When my brother died, Mikey was barely two years old. Sarah was always at the station, never home. I had to raise him myself. A clueless kid playing dad and mom. But that little baby would cry whenever I held him. I always thought I was just clumsy. Now I knew, from the very first day, he knew I wasn’t his real father. My brother was gone. But he didn’t call me out. Instead, he slowly grew to depend on me, calling me “Dad…” My phone buzzed in my pocket. I choked back my grief and opened it… I was flooded with messages from strangers: “Did you find him? We’re all worried! Hope to hear good news!” “Praying for the little guy!” “Need any help? I’m big and strong! I’ll help get your kid back…” I mechanically scrolled through the hundreds of messages, searching for one familiar name. Why? Why couldn’t I find a single word from her? Why was the child’s own mother so cold? I trembled, posting a funeral announcement online. Just a few lines, but they drained all the strength from my body. 3 I held Mikey all night. At dawn, I took him to the funeral home alone and made the arrangements. A vibrant, happy little boy was now just a small box. I was barely back home when Sarah and Rick showed up, glaring at me. As soon as I came inside, she stormed over, her face contorted with rage. Smack! A stinging slap across my face. “You son of a bitch! You posted a death notice online just to get me to come back!” I touched my burning cheek and glared back at the two of them. “Mikey is dead, Sarah.” “Liar!” Sarah’s eyes were wide with fury. “He’s fine! You just hid him somewhere! Where is he, huh? Give him back now!” “I’m telling you, he’s dead!” I roared, grief and anger exploding inside me. “He was kidnapped and tortured while you were out looking for Rick’s dog! Happy now?!” Sarah froze, considering my words. Rick stepped forward and gently put his arm around her shoulder. “Hey, man, it’s not like police work doesn’t matter what it is. My dog is important to me, and Sarah was just trying to help. You don’t have to threaten her like that.” Rick even started to cry. “If you don’t like me, I’ll leave. Just bring Mikey back. Please…” Hearing Rick’s fake tears and phony words, Sarah’s anger flared again. She pointed at me, screaming, “How many times are you going to pull this crap?! Three years ago, I picked up Rick from the airport, and you did the same thing.” “You said you were going to die, you were being held hostage! But look at you! You’re standing right in front of me! You think you can trick me with these lies?! You should have died!” “What… what did you say?” I stared at her, stunned. “I said, YOU – THREE YEARS AGO – SHOULD HAVE DIED!” “I told you, Rick and I are just friends. He has depression, he’s not very healthy, can’t you understand?! And you make a big deal out of it every time!” A wave of pain washed over me… My mind went blank. All I could hear were my brother’s last words. “Bro, can you take care of Sarah and the kid for me? If I’m not there for them, they won’t make it…” I started to laugh. It was like hearing a bad joke. My brother, you were such a fool. Three years ago, you were being tortured, your life a living hell. You had a gun to your head, but you wouldn’t say a word about Sarah. Sarah was holding Rick’s hand, celebrating his return to the country. Every phone call you made, every ounce of energy you expended to get through to her, she ignored. We loved her with all our hearts, but this woman trampled our love under her feet… “Hahahaha…” I laughed and fell to my knees, laughter turning into sobs. Tears streamed down my face. She stared at me, a flicker of shock crossing her face before it hardened again. “What’s wrong with you?!” “Haha, you drove me crazy! And you got what you wanted, I died! Three years ago! I’m his brother, Alex! He begged me to take care of you and Mikey! What did you do?!” I looked up, my eyes bloodshot, staring at Sarah and Rick. “You got Mikey killed!” Rick glared at me, then put on a hurt expression. “Hey, man, why you blaming me for? If I hadn’t been feeling down because I couldn’t find Buster, then Sarah wouldn’t have ignored you, so blame me, not her, okay? You don’t want her to be sad, so you shouldn’t say things that hurt her!” Before, I would have given way. But not this time. I jumped to my feet, grabbed Rick by the throat. He gasped and choked, struggling to breathe. “Sarah, you let this scumbag get your husband and son killed! How can you live with yourself?!” 4 Before I could tighten my grip, Sarah was behind me. She drew her gun and pressed it to my head, her voice cold and sharp. “You’re Jacob! What are you pretending for?!” “Try to hurt Rick, and I’ll pull the trigger!” I froze. The cold metal against my skull filled me with despair. This was the woman my brother and I had spent thirteen years protecting… I didn’t resist. I just turned my head, looked into Sarah’s cold eyes, and gave her a bitter smile. “Go ahead! Do it!” I grabbed the gun, pressed it against my temple. “You’ve already killed two people who loved you. What’s one more?” Sarah’s body shook. Her eyes widened, and she lost her composure… Her hand trembled. “I know that face! Tell me where Mikey is…” I took a deep breath and pulled the urn out of my pocket. “Mikey’s right here!” Sarah let go of Rick and grabbed the urn, looking at me like she couldn’t believe what was happening. Then she gave it to Rick. Without me realizing it, Rick opened the urn and stared at the dust inside, laughing. “Hey, man, Jacob is putting on a show! He got an urn with something, look! You can see the Optimus Prime, he probably got it from that blind box! This is flour, hahaha…” He was going to empty the urn out! “You monster! You won’t leave the kid’s ashes alone!” I lunged at him, grabbing the urn, wanting to tear him apart. “Enough!” Sarah pulled me back. “You’re delusional!” “How can you not tell the difference, Sarah? Stop lying!” Sarah threw the urn to the ground, Mikey’s ashes scattering everywhere. My blood froze, replaced by emptiness and despair. Behind Sarah, Rick smiled, saying in a silent voice, “Even in death, you’re nothing compared to me…” I looked at him and gave a sad smile. No. I give up… I started picking up the ashes, carefully placing them back in the urn. I touched the necklace I wore, made from my brother’s ashes. My eyes were empty, filled with despair. “Let’s get a divorce, Sarah. It doesn’t matter if I’m Jacob, it doesn’t matter if Mikey is dead…” “Let’s get a divorce.” Sarah shook. “What do you mean,” Sarah asked pulling out the necklace. “Let’s go to the station and test your DNA…”

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The scream ripped through the air at my birthday party, a raw, animalistic sound. Tiffany, the fake daughter, stood there, a cake knife clutched in her hand, slashing at her own face. Blood streamed down her cheeks as she sobbed, “Ashley, look… now do you hate me less? I’m begging you! I’ll leave, I swear! I won’t ever try to steal your family’s love again. Just… don’t make me go with those guys…” The scene froze everyone in place. My parents and brother, even more than the other guests, looked like they wanted to kill someone. Under their horrified stares, they publicly announced they were sending me away to a “therapeutic boarding school.” In that place, beatings, electroshock therapy, it was all routine. Forced to drink someone else’s piss, choke down rotten food, and even worse… endure the constant “correction” from those twisted “counselors.” My body and mind were broken down, reshaped into something unrecognizable. A year passed before my family finally remembered the daughter they’d shoved into the shadows. When they finally came to pick me up, all I could do was cower on the ground, whispering, “I’m sorry, please forgive the dog. I know I messed up. I’ll take any punishment, just… please be gentle…” 1 My legs trembled as I limped out of that hellhole. My brother, Chad, was leaning against a black SUV, waiting for me. They’d cleaned me up, dressed me back in the skirt I’d arrived in. You couldn’t see a trace of what I’d been through that past year. Before telling me they were sending someone, they’d forced me to eat, fatten me up. They’d put makeup on me, covered all the scars. Seeing me just staring at him, not even calling him “Chad”, he frowned, grabbing my arm. “What the hell are you doing? You knew I was coming. You made me wait two hours!” “Ashley, you’re still acting out? You want to go back to that place?” Hearing the anger in his voice, the thinly veiled threat, my eyes widened with terror. I instinctively jerked my arm away, my face turning paper-white. I dropped to my knees in front of my brother, thud, thud, thud… I started banging my head against the asphalt, begging for forgiveness. “Master, I’m sorry! The dog made you unhappy…” “Your shoes are dirty, the dog will clean them for you…” I started crawling towards his feet, wanting to lick them clean. Chad suddenly recoiled, stepping back, a look of disgust on his face. “Ashley, what the hell is wrong with you?” His gaze was icy, like shards of winter. It sent shivers down my spine. The memories… the horrific memories flooded back. This was the sign. They were going to punish the disobedient dog. My hands went to my skirt, pulling it up, whimpering like a dog. “Woof woof… Master, please don’t be mad! The dog will be good, obedient…” “The dog knows she messed up, please punish her lightly…” Chad looked completely shocked. He bent down, grabbing my hand, yanking me to my feet. His face was a mask of anger. He was practically spitting the words: “Ashley!” “You still haven’t gotten over it, have you? You are doing this just to piss me off, aren’t you?” I was trembling, tears streaming down my face. Angering them meant only one thing: brutal punishment. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! Don’t hit me, I’ll be good, I promise…” “I messed up, I know! I shouldn’t have been bad, I know I messed up!” Smack! Chad slapped me hard across the face. “Enough! Shut up!” It was the first time he’d laid a hand on me in three years. If it had been the old me, I would have retaliated. But now, I just shrank back, then started slapping myself, harder and harder. Each slap was a silent promise, a desperate attempt to erase the transgression. I bit down on my lip, tasting blood, but I didn’t dare make a sound. 3 The moment I arrived at the school, I took down the people who tried to take advantage of me. Then they used electroshock batons on me, beat me with sticks and whips for three days straight. When I was hungry, I could only eat sour rice, when I was thirsty, I could only drink the others’ urine. Once I was lucky. A “trainer” came to vent his frustration, got drunk, and I grabbed his cell phone. I remembered Chad’s number and called it, begging him to take me home. But he just said, “Ashley, we agreed on a year. It’s only been a few days. Tiffany has suffered so much, this is hardly anything.” “Just be good, okay? Lose the princess attitude.” I could hear Tiffany crying in the background. “Ashley’s just confused. It was my fault, I stole Mom and Dad from her. She can punish me all she wants…” “Can’t you guys forgive her? I am not Ashley from now on. I just want to go far away to live a normal life.” Before I could say anything else, Mom and Dad were yelling. “Chad! Can’t you see Tiffany is getting upset? Hang up! Don’t take Ashley’s calls ever again!” “We said a year, she’ll stay a year. She comes home when she’s learned some manners.” The phone hung up and I was despaired. I learned later that the whole family was preparing to fly to South Korea with Tiffany for plastic surgery. Mom and Dad announced that they would always love her. But I, from the beginning, never fit in. This has been true for three years. 4 I started hitting myself harder, my face swelling. “Stop it!” Chad grabbed my hands, his eyes burning with anger. “Ashley, are you this desperate now? “Did you do this in there, trying to gain their sympathy? It won’t work!” “Those people are experts, Ashley. I told them everything, they won’t be moved by your pathetic act.” Hearing Mom and Dad mentioned, I realized it was Chad. “Chad… It’s you…” Chad froze, his face darker. “Don’t act dumb! It’s only been a year, you haven’t forgotten me, have you?” “We just want you to be better. Why are you trying to disgust me?” “I recorded you slapping yourself. You can’t pin this on me!” Three years ago, I was brought back to the family. Tiffany would hurt herself, and say don’t blame me. Then she broke Dad’s vase, broke Chad’s toy blocks, saying it was all me. When I explained myself, they said. Don’t blame others. This happened on my birthday party last year. “I can’t believe you tried to hurt Tiffany! Don’t try to blame others!” I felt the pain and my throat was dry. Chad grabbed me and put me in his car. When we got home, Tiffany ran to my arms in a white dress. “Ashley! You are finally back! I missed you so much!” But she hurt my wound and said quietly. “You dare to come back? If I were you, I’d kill myself.” I felt pain in my wound. Why is she doing this? What for! I pushed her away, ready to yell at her. “Oh!” Tiffany acted like I would do that and she fell. Her head hit the stair and blood came out. “Ashley, it’s been so long. Are you still mad at me?” She cried and blood came out to her white dress. “Ashley! You have been acting. You are still so evil!” Chad kicked me away, hugging Tiffany and going to the living room. Tiffany shrugged on his shoulder, mouthing at me: (I will make you go away.) 5 Next second, she cried and my parents came. They tried to help her until Chad said I hurt her. My parents paid attention to me. “Mom, Dad, don’t blame her. She ate well in the school, but there are so many rules. She is not free, so she is upset.” Tiffany cried for me and my father was upset. He walked to me, slapping me. “Ashley, what did you learn in one year?! How come you are so evil? Why hurt Tiffany?” My ear was buzzing and I almost fell. Hearing “evil”, I kneeled. “I am sorry… I am sorry!” “I was wrong, don’t hurt me, I know I was wrong…” The torture was nothing to me. My respect, pride, were all gone. Dad did not expect this, so he just stood there. I knocked head, and Chad helped me up. “Enough! Don’t act dumb.” “You recognize you were wrong, we will celebrate for you and let’s eat!” Mom watched me and said. “Ashley, why are you so thin?” I was scared and looked at my rice, no looking at the meat. I did not want to eat, I dared not to. I ate cold food and leftovers for the whole year. I did not listen, so I did not have food. Sometimes I looked in the leftovers. Once, they dropped a chicken leg to the table. I grabbed it but I was forced to get under the table. My arms and legs were tied, and then I was ashamed. I learned after that. The delicious food was not free. I dare not touch. 6 Seeing me shivering, Mom sighed, getting a chicken leg for me. “Good girl, eat.” Seeing the chicken leg, my eyes got big and I shivered. I reflexively stood up, hugging head and getting under the table. “I don’t want to eat… Please.” My parents were shocked. They watched me and I was shivering. “Ashley!” Chad was fast, getting me out. I push his hand and screamed. “I am sorry! Don’t shock me!” “I will be good, I will listen…” I lay on the ground and started to take my dress off. Chad got me up. He was angry. I dared not to move, so I smiled. “I will not move, I will listen. Don’t shock me, don’t burn me, okay?” Because I fought back, so I was shocked and I lost feeling. People put wax on me, hitting me. I had no strength and bit arms and they forced hot cigarette on me. Chad grabbed my mouth and looked dark. “What are you talking about?” I thought he would burn me with cigarette, so I screamed. Seeing me out of control, my family got the doctor. I got dizzy, but I did not want to sleep. If I slept, something scary will happen. “She got hurt mentally or physically. “And she is malnourished. She needs a dietician.” “She needs to see a doctor. This could cause after effects.” Tiffany cut the doctor. “We arranged the school well. They should take care of her. Why is she like this?” “No, Miss, she is…” Chad cut the doctor coldly. “Enough! Wang, you joined her.” He watched me and realized what was up. “Ashley, I am impressed! You even bribed the doctor!” The doctor froze. “Young Master, you misunderstood…” “What am I misunderstanding! She is not sleeping! She gave you money?” Dad looked upset. “My daughter was there for one year, she is healthy. It won’t be like you said.” Mom sighed. “Ashley, why are you doing this?” Tiffany cried. “Mom, Dad, she is harder to control. My head hurts…” Chad grabbed my hand, dragging me out. “She is not sorry. Let’s send her back!” “No! I don’t want to go back! Please!” I freed myself, trying to run. Chad grabbed me. My dress was broken. A lot of scary wounds showed.

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My direct supervisor, Brenda Swanson, had a thing for flirting with the male employees. The whole department was practically her harem, while the women were just workhorses. My youth and, I guess, decent looks especially rubbed her the wrong way. She even got the whole department to ice me out. So, I reported her to HR, but she just scoffed, “Honey, I’m the chairman’s sister. You think I can’t get you fired?” I just laughed and called the chairman myself. “Uncle Frank,” I said, “exactly how many sisters do you have?” 1. I landed a sweet job at a major corporation right out of college. But my supervisor, Brenda, just didn’t like me. She was all smiles and sunshine with Brandon, who started around the same time, giving him personal guidance on his projects. But with me? I got the cold shoulder and a whole lot of attitude. One day, I was having seriously bad period cramps, like, sweating-through-my-clothes bad. I put in for sick leave on Slack, but Brenda wouldn’t approve it. So, I dragged myself to her office. Before I even got to the door, I heard this shrill, grating laughter coming from inside. “Brenda, my sick leave request…?” I asked. Brenda’s smile vanished the second she saw me. She rolled her eyes. The male coworker sitting on the arm of her chair got up to leave. “Brenda, I gotta bail this afternoon, okay?” He gave her butt a playful pat as he walked past. Brenda just purred and watched him go, smiling like a lovesick teenager. I swallowed my disgust and repeated my request. Brenda didn’t even look up. “Nope. Just a little period? This is a job, not your freaking house. You girls are so sensitive. Back in my day, I worked ’til midnight with my period, no problem.” I was about to pass out from the pain. “How come you approved Brandon’s leave then?” Brenda slammed her hand on the desk. “He has actual things to do. I’m sick of you trying to skate by. Just go! Leave Denied!” I couldn’t deal with her BS, so I just turned and left. As I reached the door, she added, “And you can write his proposal. Get it done before you leave.” Furious, I went home. Later that night, my work chat blew up. Brenda tagged me in the group and blasted me: “Hannah Miller, Unexcused Absence! Gross Misconduct! Consider this an Official Warning! Get your act together, or get out!” I was too weak to argue, so I replied politely, “Brenda, I requested leave due to illness.” “Did I approve it? NOPE! That’s called skipping work! No perfect attendance bonus for you, Miss Hannah Miller!” A bunch of her sycophantic male coworkers chimed in: “Brenda’s being way too nice. Any other boss would have fired her already.” “Yeah, if you don’t like it, quit. Plenty of people want this job.” “@Hannah Miller, get in here and apologize! This is a terrible attitude!” Brenda’s department was mainly guys, except for me and Sarah. Sarah messaged me privately, trying to comfort me: “Ignore her. She wouldn’t even give me time off when my grandma died. But the guys? She lets them off for anything. She’s so biased.” I asked her why no one ever reported her. She said, “Brenda’s been here forever. She’s supposedly the owner’s sister. Nobody dares say anything!” Brenda was always on my case. If I carried a nice purse, she’d make snide remarks: “These young girls are so materialistic. How much do you even make? Hope you can still afford food!” If I got to work early and put on makeup, she’d glare at me: “Who are you trying to impress? You’re coming to work, not going on a date.” Then she’d spend the entire day watching my every move. If a male coworker spoke to me, she’d barge in, laughing way too loudly and getting way too close. I had to chant ‘This, too, shall pass’ like a freaking mantra. I had a mission to finish. But this time, I snapped. Me and Brenda were officially at war. 2. Bright and early the next day, before I even had my butt in my chair, Brenda stormed over to my desk with a huge stack of files. “Here. Everything you didn’t do yesterday. Don’t even think about going home until it’s done.” I glanced at the names on the files. “These aren’t my assignments. I’m not doing them.” I wasn’t gonna play nice with someone who obviously didn’t like me, no matter what I did. Brenda’s voice went up an octave. “Who’s the boss here? Me! Do it, or kiss your end-of-year review goodbye.” She glared at me, all venom and vinegar. Brandon walked in right on time, carrying two breakfast sandwiches. Brenda’s scowl instantly transformed into a goofy grin. She squeaked, trying to sound like a teenager, “Brandon! You’re here! Aw, did you bring me breakfast? I love this place!” It was so awkward watching this middle-aged woman try to act like she was sixteen. Brandon just looked uncomfortable and mumbled, “Sorry, Brenda. This is for Hannah.” Brenda’s mouth twitched. She shot me a death glare and stalked off in her high heels. Brandon was the best-looking of the new hires. Brenda’s eyes had been glued to him since day one. During lunch, I overheard a conversation in the break room. Brenda’s shrill voice was unmistakable. “Brandon, I checked your info with HR. You’re from a small town? It must be tough making it on your own here.” Brandon replied, “Gotta hustle when you’re young. I want to buy a place here and bring my parents out.” Brenda lowered her voice. I pulled out my phone, pressing my ear to the door, not wanting to miss a thing. “That’s sweet. I knew I liked you. What kind of girl are you looking for? Not someone like Hannah, right?” He was silent. Brenda pressed on, all knowing: “Let me be real with you. These young girls, they can’t be trusted. You see all that makeup she wears? That’s not someone just out of school. I bet she is dating lots of people. You get the picture.” Brandon seemed a little hesitant. Brenda pounced: “I’m not one to brag, but I own a few places around here. You hook up with me, you can have your pick. Bring your folks out right now. And Frank is my brother, I guarantee a promotion.” “Really? Brenda?” Brenda chuckled in satisfaction. Then their voices dropped. I spent an hour thinking about it, but I finally decided to warn Brandon. Some roads are better left untaken. I found him and told him to be careful. He sneered, “What, you can date around, but I can’t?” “What does that mean?” I asked. “Don’t play dumb. I saw you get into a Maybach last night. The guy had gray hair! Brenda isn’t even forty. I have way more self-respect than you.” I was beyond pissed. It was pointless arguing with someone like that. I turned to leave. Brandon grabbed my arm. “Brenda’s right. You’re just playing me, keeping me on the back burner.” The word “gold digger” made my head explode. “Gold digger? What have I ever taken from you?” “Why would you take my sandwich if you didn’t like me? Isn’t that taking advantage?” I almost laughed. The price of being a gold digger had dropped from a champagne brunch to a breakfast sandwich. You’d think I was charging him Michelin-star prices. “My bad, I forgot to pay you. Here’s enough for ten sandwiches.” I Venmoed him $20. He accepted it instantly. 3. From that day on, Brandon and Brenda were joined at the hip. Every time Brenda passed my desk, she made sure to adjust her collar to show off her hickeys. “What’s youth got to do with it? Brandon chose me. You think you can compete? You don’t have what it takes.” Compete? Really? I was speechless. During lunch, they fed each other in the office, all cuddly and sweet. Brenda kept glancing my way, like she’d won the lottery. Brandon spent all day in Brenda’s office, leaving the actual work to Sarah. The formerly shy kid was now dropping dirty jokes like he was born to it, making Brenda giggle non-stop. We could hear everything. Sarah had to wear headphones. Most of my coworkers pretended it was normal. Some of the guys were annoyed, but seeing the men fight over her only made Brenda happier. She’d cover her mouth and smile, all coy. I just rolled my eyes and hammered away at my keyboard. Finally, the giggling stopped. Brandon came out, tossed a folder on my desk. “Brenda wants this done today.” “Isn’t this your project? Are you giving it to me?” “No. I’m still in charge.” So he gets the credit and I do the work? Hell no. I pushed the folder back. It was almost quitting time anyway. I packed up. Brandon went to Brenda, hiding behind his boss. “Brenda, Hannah refuses to do what you say.” “Hannah, if you don’t do this, don’t bother coming back next month.” Brenda thought she could push me around like she did Sarah. But I just kept packing my stuff. “Fine. Fire me, Brenda.” Brenda’s nostrils flared. She was fuming. She was the type to hold a grudge. When bullying didn’t work, she tried isolating me. I never got notified about meetings. If I asked coworkers for help, they ignored me. I was basically invisible. Brenda took the department out for a team-building event on Saturday, but nobody told me. I only found out on her Instagram. She was wearing a tight dress that showed off her potbelly, surrounded by a bunch of guys, smiling like she’d won the lottery. Sarah was off to the side, giving an awkward peace sign. Brenda captioned it: “My boys are the best.” Sarah secretly told me that Brenda had created a new department chat, but I wasn’t invited. Brenda threatened her, saying she’d lose her job if she got too close to me. She pulled me aside. “You’re not the first one she’s done this to. The other girls all left crying.” Seeing my face, she sighed. “This whole department is Brenda’s personal playground. She won’t let attractive young women stay. Only someone like me, average-looking and not rich, can survive.” Sarah couldn’t afford to lose her job. It was the best-paying one she could find. She didn’t want me to be isolated, but she didn’t want to get fired either. Seeing how conflicted she was, I told her, “It’s okay. Besides her kiss-ups, nobody wants to spend their weekend sucking up to her anyway.” All official requests were in Slack. So I didn’t care and carried on. I went to work, ate lunch alone, got my work done and went home on time. No pressure. Brenda saw I couldn’t be bullied, and with Brandon, cooked up even dirtier schemes.

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I was lying in a pool of my own blood, watching my husband walk away with the woman he loved. Before I died, all I could think was how fast his legs carried him away. They deserved to be broken. I didn’t expect my chance to come so quickly. When I opened my eyes again, I was back nine years earlier. My future husband, the golden boy himself, Julian Croft, heir to the political dynasty, was lying unconscious at the bottom of a cliff. Those legs of his… yeah, they needed breaking. 01 In my last life’s timeline, Julian was ambushed during a high-profile political retreat, went off a cliff, horse and all. I was the one who found him, carried him for a day and a night, and saved his life. Right now, he was just lying there silently among the rocks, waiting for me to lean down. And I did. Even injured and out cold, my Julian was still the most devastatingly handsome man alive. So, naturally, being obsessed with him, I did the sensible thing and cleanly severed his Achilles tendons. The pain made him convulse, and as the smell of blood spread, Julian struggled his eyes open. I looked down at him. “Julian, honey, are you okay?” I can only imagine how tender my voice sounded, how full of pity my expression was. After all, from now on, he wasn’t running anywhere. He looked so helpless. How could I possibly be harsh with him? Julian looked surprised to see me. But the second he tried to move, he broke out in a cold sweat, the pain hitting him hard. Sharp as he was, he instantly located the source of his agony. Just as I expected, realizing his legs were ruined, Julian couldn’t handle it. He completely broke down. Because crippled legs meant the power, the presidency his family groomed him for, the prize he’d schemed his whole life for, was out of reach. I held him, stopping him from pounding on his useless legs. “Julian, hurting yourself like this? Isn’t that just playing into the hands of whoever set you up?” “Besides, you still have me. Even if you’re crippled, even if you never reach the Oval Office, I won’t leave you.” My dear Julian always had a suspicious mind. Sure enough, the wheels started turning. He gritted his teeth. “Whoever did this to me… they’ll pay!” I could almost hear him mentally cycling through his brothers, his rivals, wondering who planned the attack specifically to cripple him, to take him out of the running for good. After all, power could pass to any number of heirs, but not usually to a cripple. “Don’t worry, Julian. You’re not alone. Me and the Sterling family, we’ll stand behind you,” I whispered soothingly, like comforting a precious jewel. And he always knew how to make the choice most beneficial to himself. Like right now, clinging to me tightly, like I was his last hope. He cried in my arms, and the feeling was just… exquisite. Because he needed me so desperately. I thought, maybe I should build him a golden cage. Something fitting for his stature, something to protect him from the harsh realities outside. Just like last time, I carried him on my back, searching for a way out. Only difference was, last time he was unconscious and couldn’t walk. This time, he’d never walk properly again. He was awake the whole way, saw every bit of effort I put in. He even managed to wipe the sweat from my brow, gently asking how I was holding up. See? He could be so considerate. It had been a long time since I’d seen that side of him. Back then, he needed my family’s influence, so he deliberately got close, seduced me with sweet nothings, promises of forever, just the two of us. All that disappeared the moment he secured his position, using the Sterling clout to solidify his power base. But now? Oh, I was thrilled. Ecstatic that he’d be this gentle, this dependent, forever. 02 Following the paths I remembered from last time, I avoided the areas where ambushers might still be lurking and finally hit the main road just before dark. Soon enough, we ran into the Sterling family’s search party – or rather, our private security team. My second brother, Rick, looking sharp and imposing even on horseback, galloped towards me, his face tight with worry. He clearly didn’t even register the injured political heir I was carrying. I gave my brother, who I hadn’t seen in what felt like ages, a brilliant smile, then promptly collapsed into his arms. Seeing me “pass out,” Rick was instantly concerned. He just barked orders to his men – “Get Mr. Croft back to his residence, now!” – then carried me into one of the waiting SUVs. The vehicle swayed gently as we headed back to the Sterling estate. I opened my eyes halfway there. Rick’s expression didn’t change; he obviously knew I was faking it from the start. But he didn’t call me out, just gave me a stern lecture. “Don’t play games with your life, Scarlett. What happens to him is none of your damn business. If anything happened to you, Dad would fall apart.” I knew he was talking about me ignoring everyone’s warnings and chasing the attackers right off Blue Ridge Cliff after Julian. “I know what I’m doing, Rick,” I purred, leaning back against the plush leather seat. That was one thing I prided myself on: I’d trained in various forms of combat since I was a kid, and I had a natural talent for it. Even Rick, a former Special Forces guy, couldn’t beat me anymore. A fall from Blue Ridge wouldn’t kill me, and it meant I could find the unconscious Julian quickly. Rick hated it when I got cocky. He snorted. “If you’re so capable, why fake fainting?” I settled deeper into the seat, answering seriously, “Sometimes, out of sight, out of mind is best. If I hadn’t, I don’t think I could have stood handing Julian over to someone else.” Julian Croft. My golden boy. Such a nice name, such a handsome face. He should belong to me. How could I let anyone else touch what was mine? But the timing wasn’t right yet. I had to be patient. Rick went quiet. When we got back to the Sterling estate, Dad and my older brother were waiting, fussing over me. My father, Arthur Sterling, a man of immense power and influence, actually had tears in his eyes, pulling me close, calling me his “dear girl.” See? Power, influence, the adoration of my father and brothers. Growing up, every debutante and young heir practically tripped over themselves to suck up to me. And yet, Julian used my family’s clout, got what he wanted, and then expected me to step aside for his “true love.” Thinking of Julian, I dismissed the household staff, poured Dad and my brothers a stiff drink – whiskey, neat – and got serious. “Dad, Rick, Older Brother, there’s something I need to tell you.” Seeing my solemn expression, they straightened up. “Mom didn’t die in some random accident or mugging years ago. The old man, President Croft himself, feared your power, Dad. He tried to arrange an ‘accident’ for you, but Mom got caught in the crossfire instead.” This was intel Julian himself had revealed in our past life, a calculated move to gain my family’s absolute trust. My father and brothers are brilliant, ruthless men. Between them, they controlled levers of power – political, financial, even some darker, private networks – that amounted to a chokehold on the country’s establishment. That’s precisely why Julian was so desperate for Sterling backing back then. And why, once he felt secure, he orchestrated that “accident” during my trip down south, leaving me surrounded by his hired guns on a cold, dark pier, bleeding out into the water. He walked away with his precious Isabelle Moon, while my blood washed away, my body dumped like trash. I admit, I’d been arrogant. I never thought Julian would stoop to poisoning me himself, a slow-acting toxin delivered through touch, clouding my judgment just enough for his goons to get the drop on me. Old Man Croft killed Mom. Julian killed me. Do the math. The Sterlings and the Crofts? No way we could ever coexist. The moment the words left my mouth, Dad crushed the heavy crystal tumbler in his hand. My brothers’ chests were heaving, fury radiating off them. Growing up, my father and brothers never questioned my word. If I said it, they believed it. After a long, tense silence, Dad pulled out the small, worn locket he always carried – the one with Mom’s picture inside. He asked in a low, dangerous voice, “What do you want to do, Scarlett?” He clutched Mom’s locket tightly. I looked at my father, thought of my mother, looked at my brothers, and suddenly burst out laughing. “They all want the top spot, don’t they? Fine. Then let this country be run by a Sterling!” My own laughter echoed, cold and terrifying. But I didn’t care. From the moment Old Man Croft targeted our family, the Crofts and Sterlings were destined to clash. Besides, if everything belonged to my family, Julian wouldn’t have any room left for wandering thoughts… or wandering eyes. Oh, right. My name is Scarlett Sterling. My dad is Arthur Sterling. Dad and my brothers quite like our surname. Makes sense it should be the name everyone in power answers to, don’t you think? 03 Dinner that night was quiet, the few household staff serving us moved like ghosts. I could see how scared they were of us. It’s simple, really. Our whole family is… intense. A little messed up. From my father and brothers down to me, we share a certain morbid intensity. Prime example: Mom died seven years ago, but Dad still carries a tiny, ornate urn with some of her ashes everywhere he goes. We still set a place for her at the dinner table, complete with her favorite china and silverware. Early on, Dad even… consumed some of her ashes. To be one with her, he said. The staff turned green back then, absolutely horrified. But us three kids? We were thrilled. We all loved Mom, and she loved us fiercely. A family, together, whole… what could possibly be wrong with that? Tonight, digging into the hot, delicious food, I looked towards Mom’s empty place setting and said brightly, “Mom, don’t you worry. You’ll have a properly respectful son-in-law paying his respects soon.” I’d only just dropped the bombshell on Mom’s memory, and by the next day, news that Julian Croft, the heir apparent, was permanently crippled was spreading like wildfire through the political circles and gossip columns. When I arrived at Julian’s residence – a luxurious wing of the Croft compound – the staff were practically walking on eggshells. Seeing me was like spotting a lifeboat. “Miss Sterling, thank God you’re here.” “Mr. Croft hasn’t touched a bite all day. We don’t know what to do.” Martin, Julian’s personal aide, looked genuinely worried. But as he spoke, his eyes kept flickering past me, towards the hallway. I knew who he was really hoping to see: Julian’s supposed true love, Isabelle Moon, daughter of Secretary Moon. In our past life, whenever Julian and Isabelle had their secret trysts, Martin was the one arranging things, covering for them, playing lookout. Such a loyal little lapdog. I just smiled at him, a slow, knowing smile, until Martin trailed off uncomfortably. Then I clapped him on the shoulder. “Martin,” I said sweetly, “I feel so much better knowing Julian has you looking after him.” Ignoring the confusion on his face, I swept into Julian’s private suite. My eyes immediately met his dark, hostile gaze. A nurse stood nearby holding a bowl of medication, trying fruitlessly to coax him into taking it. He refused, just kept staring at me, clearly trying to drive me away with his miserable state. I paid it no mind. I took the bowl, blew gently on the liquid, and held the spoon to his lips. “Julian, you need to take this so you can heal. You don’t want to be stuck in bed forever, do you?” That hit a nerve. Julian turned his head away, his voice flat with despair. “Just go, Scarlett. My legs… they’re not getting better. Stay away from me. You can still find someone… suitable.” “Don’t talk like that.” I gripped his chin, forcing him to meet my eyes. “And you should know by now, once you’ve caught my attention, you’re never getting rid of me.” It was the truth. He started this. He pursued me. Everything he’d done, every promise he’d made, was set in stone in my mind. There was no going back. “Now, be a good boy and drink your medicine. Once you’re stronger, we’ll go talk to your father about setting a wedding date.” Julian couldn’t fight me. Or maybe he’d just put on enough of a show. He took the bowl and gulped the medicine down in one go. The medication or the emotional toll exhausted him. After he fell asleep, I left his suite. On my way out of the compound, I ran into Ethan Croft, the second son. Ethan Croft. Julian’s most viable competitor for the family’s political legacy. “Scarlett. You’ve seen Julian? What did the doctors say? Is he… doing alright?” He approached me smoothly, adjusting his perfectly knotted tie, offering a smile as warm and inviting as a spring day. No doubt about it, Ethan was classically handsome, well-built, with a polished, sophisticated air. But compared to Julian? He still fell short. So I just offered a polite, cool nod. “Good evening, Ethan.” “The doctors have his condition under control.” “Well, in that case, I won’t disturb him.” Ethan’s expression turned somber, and he sighed. “My brother has always been so proud. He probably doesn’t want many visitors right now.” I smiled faintly, watching his subtle attempt to poison my perception. Ethan quickly changed the subject. “Since you’re heading out, let me give you a ride home, Scarlett.” “That would be kind of you, Ethan.” I didn’t refuse. The whole drive, I watched Ethan’s not-so-subtle attempts to impress me, dropping hints about his own ambitions, his connections. This had been going on for years. Ever since I was a teenager, before my debutante ball, he’d been making quiet overtures. But back then, I was supposedly “head over heels” for Julian, so Ethan kept his approaches discreet. Now, with Julian sidelined? Ethan was openly trying to win me, and my family’s backing, over to his side. He even dropped heavy hints that, with him, I could eventually become the First Lady, the matriarch of the next generation. Hilarious. Been there, done that, got the T-shirt. It’s an exhausting job, really.

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