Category: English

I’m an internet rat who tried to order a male escort, but accidentally messaged a hitman. Me: [How much for one time?] Hitman: [How many targets?] Whoa. Do they offer group discounts or something?! I hesitated for a long time before sending him my name. [Just… just me. Do you offer any discounts?] 1 It was day ten after my breakup. A time when hormonal imbalances usually kept me awake. I tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep. Left with no other option, I hopped online in the middle of the night to find some “sleep aid” material. As I was scrolling, a photo bursting with raw, explosive power suddenly slid past my fingertips. In the frame, a man was wearing a dark tactical helmet and face mask. His sculpted, massive chest looked like it was about to burst through his tight black compression shirt. The only exposed skin on his entire upper body was a pair of thick, strong hands gripping a weapon. His knuckles were pronounced, veins bulging against the skin. The massive, terrifyingly large weapon actually looked small and easily managed in his hands. I couldn’t help but imagine those long fingers pulling a trigger. Except, what if it wasn’t a trigger under his fingertips, but… I instinctively covered my tingling nose. Absolute perfection! A masked, massive-chested daddy with a mysterious vibe! I immediately clicked onto the creator’s profile, desperate for more photos. But almost all of the account’s content was locked behind a paywall. You had to subscribe to see it. There were anonymous, glowing reviews at the bottom. [Worth every penny.] [Excellent and highly professional service!] [Clean, precise, and leaves no loose ends.] I thought about it for a second, and then it clicked— This must be an OnlyFans! Doing the mental math on the subscription tiers, I hissed through my teeth. This guy is expensive. Normally, I would just drool for a minute and move on. But my cheating ex had recently infuriated me, and I desperately needed to treat myself to something nice to calm my nerves. Us girls need to know how to treat ourselves. I can always make more money. But I’ll never again be in my twenties, single, and ready to play with a masked, massive-chested daddy. I instantly threw down the cash for the highest, most expensive tier. Sure enough, the creator DM’d me almost immediately. [What service do you require.] His texting style matched his vibe perfectly. Calm, steady, and ice-cold. I could easily imagine him looking at me with a sharp, lethal glare. Clutching my wildly beating heart, I gathered my courage and asked him. [If I hire you to come out once, how much does it cost?] He replied quickly: [How many targets.] Whoa. Does he do group sessions?! I was momentarily stunned by the sheer scope of his services. Sigh. The economy is rough right now. Even sugar mamas’ money is hard to earn. They have to work for it. I took a moment to appreciate his hustle: [Just me.] Thinking about it, I asked again: [Do you offer any discounts?] The other side went silent for a moment. It seemed he hadn’t anticipated my question. A moment later, he sent back four bolded words. [Prices are strictly non-negotiable.] So aloof. Seems like his business is booming. He probably realized his tone was a bit harsh, because a moment later, he sent another message. [Do you have any special requirements.] Me: ! Is the service really this good? Dropping serious cash really makes a difference. It’s making my mind go to some very dirty places. My face flushed bright red. My brain, acting like a runaway horse, automatically replayed every steamy romance novel and spicy video I had ever seen. It took me a long time to finally, timidly type out a reply. [Is… anything allowed?] The other side fell into a deep silence again. The quiet lasted even longer than before. After a long time, a concise, two-word reply appeared. [Extra fee.] …The little deer running around in my heart suddenly slammed into a wall and died. I instantly lost all impure desires: [Oh, never mind then.] After following his instructions to send him my name and a recent photo, I took the opportunity to ask a question. [What’s your name?] The cool guy’s response was very cool. [No need to know. Once the transaction is complete, we will never contact each other again.] Wow. So this is the legendary, ice-cold relationship built entirely on money. The adult world really is different. Me: [I still need something to call you. A stage name?] The other side seemed to consider this. He typed for a moment before slowly replying. [Codename: Phoenix.] 2 The agreed-upon date arrived. I excitedly grabbed my purse and rushed to the designated location for our “date.” I sat in the coffee shop, unable to suppress my anxiety, checking the clock over and over again. But after waiting for what felt like forever, the other party still hadn’t shown up. Watching the agreed-upon time pass with no sign of him, my heart felt like a beach at low tide—slowly becoming dry and empty. Did he… did he ghost me? Before leaving in defeat, I made one last, desperate attempt, stretching my neck to look out the door. Whether inside the coffee shop or out front, it was completely empty. There were barely any pedestrians on the street outside. Unwilling to give up, I repeatedly scanned the surrounding area. Until my eyes landed on a tall silhouette standing in the shade of a tree a little further down the street. My eyes instantly lit up. The man had a tall, lean physique. His full, sculpted chest strained against his button-down shirt, leaving not a single wrinkle in the fabric. Yet, he had buttoned it all the way up to his throat. He was wearing dark sunglasses and a face mask, covering his skin completely. The only bright spot in the entire picture was a pair of large, strong hands with pronounced knuckles. Normally, without seeing a face, it’s impossible to identify someone. But am I just a normal person? I’m a premium subscriber who navigated four different links, bypassed three platforms, and created two email accounts just to get a taste! A subscriber’s eyes are sharp! Goddammit, those hands definitely belonged to my man. I hurried over to him. Up close, he looked even more muscular. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, and he had to be pushing six-foot-three. His pockets were bulging. I couldn’t even begin to guess what was in them. That chest. Those legs. That size difference. I was practically drooling internally. The annoyance from waiting so long vanished instantly. Maybe he just got the location wrong? I patted him on the back. “What are you doing standing here? Why didn’t you come over?” The cool guy flinched when I touched him. He looked confused for a split second, then defensively took a step back, sizing me up coldly. “You have the wrong person.” I couldn’t help but touch my ear. His voice was incredible. Like a deep, resonant cello, every note he played scratched an itch in my heart. It was just a shame it was so icy. I tried to explain again: “I didn’t get the wrong person. I waited for you for a long time. You never came to find me, so I had to come find you.” The other party was silent for a few seconds, his tone remaining cold. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I suddenly felt a little frantic. I put my hands on my hips, huffing angrily. “How can you be like this! You took the money, you have to do the job! Are you backing out? Too late!” The man stood in silence for a moment. His chest rose and fell as he seemed to let out a long exhale. As if giving up, he took off his sunglasses and mask, revealing a striking, handsome face. He shoved one hand into his slightly bulging pocket and stepped a little closer to me. His narrow, sharp eyes glanced at me, as if assessing my intentions. “Since you already know, what do you want to do.” Having such a vibrant, stunningly handsome man this close to me… I instantly forgot my anger. I looked down shyly, my gaze wandering. “I, um… I booked a hotel room. We can go talk in there.” I cleared my throat slightly, gesturing for him to look around. “There are people walking around everywhere here. It’s not a good place to… get down to business.” The other party didn’t move a muscle for a long time. Afraid he misunderstood, I quickly waved my hands to explain. “Don’t worry, I’m not actually going to do anything to you. I just… I just wanted to meet up and chat.” My voice got quieter the more I spoke. “Anything else… only if you want to…” The man suddenly took a step forward, leaning down toward me. Instantly, his shadow engulfed me. Compared to his massive, muscular frame, I felt like a fragile little doll he could crush with one hand. I subconsciously held my breath. Seeing this, a brief, fleeting smile crossed his lips. In that instant, the ice cracked. Revealing the deep, dark water beneath. Dangerous and alluring. His deep, magnetic voice penetrated my eardrums. “I’m not worried. You’re the one who should be worried about what I might do to you.” With that, he turned and started walking toward the hotel. Leaving me standing there, dumbfounded. It took me a long time to finally let out a little squeal, covering my burning cheeks. Did… did I just get counter-flirted with? So this is the terrifying power of a professional male escort! 3 On the large bed in the hotel room. Phoenix and I sat side-by-side. The atmosphere was incredibly silent. To lighten the mood, I had to find a random topic to talk about. “Why did you get into this line of work?” “I don’t know how to do anything else.” My brain instantly conjured up the classic tragic backstory of a poor, dropout teenager eventually forced into sex work. I tried to offer some polite comfort. “It’s not a bad gig. It’s the oldest profession in the world. You shouldn’t feel ashamed.” Phoenix seemed to dislike discussing his profession. He frowned. “Let’s get down to business. What do you want to do.” Straight to the point? Isn’t that a little fast? I rubbed my hands together shyly: “O-okay. What can we do? Can we… bang?” His frown deepened: “I bang you?” Huh? Obviously? I asked, confused: “Or what, I bang you?” “No.” “Then can I, or can I not, touch your… um, gun?” “No.” “Can I just look at it?” “No.” “Can I at least touch your pecs?” “Absolutely not!!” Phoenix’s suddenly raised voice scared me. I stared blankly at the man who had suddenly scooted a foot away, the tips of his ears turning red. Why is he getting so worked up? Weren’t the things I asked for earlier way more invasive? Maybe his pecs are his sensitive spot? I thought about it, and decided to just ask him directly: “Do you only sell your time, or do you sell your body too?” The man also thought about it: “Yes.” Wow. A man of virtue. Looks like tonight is going to be nothing but pure, unadulterated conversation under the covers. I let out a bored yawn: “Alright then. I’m going to take a shower. Make yourself comfortable.” The other party didn’t move an inch, seemingly unbothered. When I came out wrapped in a towel… I saw Phoenix sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling through my phone. “Hey! Do you have any professional ethics at all?!” I furiously lunged at him, trying to wrestle the phone away. The man was tall with long legs and arms. He easily dodged me by simply raising his arm, letting me stand on my tiptoes without ever reaching the phone in his hand. Instead, it looked like I was throwing myself into his arms, rubbing and pressing against him. Several times, I almost buried my face in his massive chest. Phoenix pressed his lips tightly together, grabbing my wrists and pinning them against the headboard, restricting my movements. His voice was a suppressed, gravelly whisper. “You are my employer?” I was stunned for a moment, and then it suddenly clicked. Just now… he had been reading my chat history with him. Did he think the male escort I ordered was someone else?! What’s wrong with a woman ordering an escort for herself? It’s the 21st century. Seriously. I glared at him resentfully. “Yes, so what!” The grip on my wrists suddenly loosened a bit. Phoenix frowned, glaring at me intensely for a moment. He looked almost… disappointed. He scolded me in a low voice: “You’re so young, why are you being so reckless!” I was taken aback by his scolding. When I snapped back to reality, I felt even more indignant— My intuition was right! This guy is a total prude! 4 “I’m not taking this job.” The man dropped that cold sentence and let me go. I stared in shock as he turned and took long strides toward the door. What does that mean? Is he rejecting me? He’s an escort! How dare he refuse a client! This is outrageous! I’m going to write a five-hundred-word one-star review! I scrambled out of bed in a fury. I threw my clothes on and chased him out the door, yelling after him. “If you don’t want the job, someone else will! I’ll just buy someone better later! I’ll buy ten!” The silhouette walking down the hallway abruptly stopped. The man turned around, his expression incredibly complex. “Because I refuse, you’re going to buy someone else?” He closed the distance between us in a few strides. His tone was almost heartbroken. “Can’t you just try to think about something positive? Can’t you just let go of this kind of desire? Must you… absolutely do this?” Why can’t I have a few worldly desires?! It’s not just men who have physical needs! I was just about to have it out with him. Suddenly, a disgusting, familiar voice came from behind me. Someone laughed and called my name: “Chloe? What are you doing here?” I turned around, annoyed. Sure enough, I saw a handsome face that I absolutely loathed. My ex-boyfriend. Brad was wearing a silk robe, tied loosely around his waist. A trail of bright red hickeys extended from his neck down to his collarbone. There were also several ambiguous scratch marks on his chest, half-hidden under the fabric. God knows whose bed he just crawled out of. Not long ago, I discovered he was frequently hooking up with random girls behind my back. I caught him in bed with someone else. Brad lazily adjusted the zipper on his dress pants, leaning against the doorframe of a hotel room, and lit a cigar. He blew a perfectly shaped smoke ring at my furious, questioning face, smiling faintly. “It was just playing around, don’t worry about it.” He reached out to hold my hand, his tone almost gentle. “You’re my only official girlfriend.” It was like freezing snow water poured onto the erupting magma of my fury. In that moment, I suddenly calmed down. Even though Brad looked human… The gap in our moral values was wider than the gap between a human and a dog. You can’t reason with a dog. There was no point in arguing. I dodged his touch, pulled my hand back, and delivered a ringing slap across his face. “Not anymore.” As I left, I caught a glimpse of him standing frozen in shock. The cigar slipped from his fingers, falling onto the carpet, burning a small, irreparable black hole. … I closed my eyes, trying desperately to suppress the disgusting memories bubbling up in my mind. But the dog in front of me wouldn’t stop barking. Brad sized me up, rubbing his chin with interest. “Were you coming here to check up on me? You just broke up with me, and you’re already regretting it.” He chuckled: “You little liar.” …Oh my god. If I committed a crime, the law should punish me, not subject me to this greasy torture. I felt sick to my stomach. Then I realized, why should I be the only one suffering? I looked left and right, grabbed Phoenix, who was standing nearby, and pulled him close. I smiled, linking arms with him intimately: “Watch what you say, my boyfriend will get angry.” Brad was incredibly arrogant. He probably thought I, his ex-girlfriend who couldn’t let him go, had immediately rushed out to find a rebound after dumping him. To someone like him, this was basically another slap in the face. Hearing my words, Brad’s face instantly stiffened. A moment later, a malicious smile appeared on his face. “Is that so? Then he should be calling me ‘Senior’.” “After all, whatever he’s playing with right now is just the trash I threw away.” “…!” I was so angry my whole body went cold. The next second, a warm hand suddenly wrapped around mine. Phoenix took a half-step forward, blocking the slimy, disgusting gaze the man was aiming at me. He coldly swept his eyes over the explicit marks on Brad’s body. “Are you insulting yourself for being even worse trash?” Society conditions women to feel ashamed of having sexual experience. But among men, they take pride in sleeping with as many women as possible. Brad probably never expected… That Phoenix, a fellow man, would break the unspoken bro-code and judge him by the same standards society uses to judge women. He stood there, dumbfounded, his jaw hanging open. Finally, unable to maintain his sophisticated facade, his eyes filled with rage: “You…” “You wanna fight?” Phoenix cut him off, stepping right up into his personal space. His six-foot-three height and incredibly intimidating, muscular physique instantly made the other man look like a short, scrawny twig. Brad stared at him darkly. After a long moment, his gaze bypassed Phoenix’s shoulder and landed on me. The malice in his eyes looked like he wanted to skin me alive. “Very good. I’ll remember this.”

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Five years. That’s how long I was gone. Sold into the armpit of rural nowhere, living a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from. And now, just days after being rescued, my husband, Caleb Thorne, looks at me with an expression that is chillingly casual. “I arranged the kidnapping,” he says, his voice as smooth as glass. “I was right there in the alley when they shoved you into the van.” My entire body goes rigid. Before I can process the words, my older brother, Elias, the wealthiest real estate mogul in Chicago, chimes in. “I put up the cash for it.” “The plan was only to leave you out there for three years as punishment,” Elias continues, checking his expensive watch. “But Tristan was worried you hadn’t learned your lesson yet. He thought you’d come back and start bullying Maya again.” “He insisted you stay out there another two years.” Tristan. The orphan my family took in when we were kids. My foster brother. While they made their plans, I spent every night of those five years being brutally pinned down by stranger after stranger. My belly grew big six times, only to be forced small again. I tried to die, but they wouldn’t let me. I tried to escape, and they shattered both my legs. Now, I stand here on cheap, government-issued prosthetics. Through every agonizing second, the desire to see these three men again was the only thing that kept me breathing. And now I know they are the architects of my hell. The blood in my veins turns to ice. I shiver uncontrollably, my voice coming out as a raspy whisper. “Why? Why did you destroy me?” Elias and Tristan look away, shifting uncomfortably. Caleb is the only one who can look me in the eye. “You were a spoiled bitch, Elara. You used our love for you as a weapon to torture Maya. We just wanted you to grow up a little. To learn some humility.” “Maya is pregnant with my child now,” he adds, dropping the bombshell with zero emotion. “If you can’t accept that, we can get a divorce.” A coppery taste fills my mouth. Then, a ping echoes in my brain—a sound I haven’t heard in years. [Host, do you wish to abandon your mission to redeem these three villains and detach from this world?] The System. It has been silent since the day I decided to stay here permanently, years ago. Hearing it now makes me feel disconnected from reality. I look at Caleb’s stone-cold face. I look over at Elias and Tristan, who are hovering over Maya on the sofa, discussing what pre-natal meals the chef should prepare for her. A sharp, stabbing pain rips through my chest. Five years ago, they told me they had been in a terrible car accident on the way to my birthday party. I was terrified. I loved them more than anything. I took a shortcut through a dark alley to get to the hospital faster. I never made it. I was snatched in the dark, and my living interment began. I thought I had finally been rescued by the men who loved me. Instead, they are telling me it was all an elaborate prank to avenge Maya. “Detach,” I whisper inside my mind. [Confirmed. Initiating 8-hour countdown. Since this is an abrupt departure, the Host must ensure all three villains are present at the time of detachment.] I start laughing through my tears. A wild, broken sound. Caleb steps forward, reaching out to wipe a tear from my cheek. His touch is gentle, a terrifying echo of the man I thought he was. “You don’t have to divorce me if you don’t want to,” he says softly. “It’s just… Maya has been treated delicately these past few years. You can’t lay a hand on her again. Ever.” “Since the abuse you suffered rendered you infertile, Maya said she’s willing to let you raise the baby as your own. To keep up appearances for the Thorne name.” I had Caleb’s child once. I was seven months pregnant when Maya pushed me down a flight of stairs. We lost the baby. When I woke up in the hospital, I went insane. I tried to claw Maya’s eyes out. Caleb stopped me. He slapped me across the face and locked me in our house. The moment I was physically recovered from the miscarriage, I was kidnapped and sold to the hills. My throat feels like it’s stuffed with cotton. Speaking hurts. “Because I slapped Maya one time… you punished me like this?” “Yes,” Caleb replies, dead serious. “You were incompetent. You couldn’t save your own child, yet you blamed Maya. You were acting hysterical, not fitting of a woman in your position.” “As long as you behave yourself from now on, I promise I won’t send you away again.” My face wet with tears, I stare at Elias. “Since you lied to me for five years, why tell me the truth now?” Elias sighs, rubbing his temples. Tristan looks at me with terrifying self-righteousness. “You and Maya are sisters, Elara. We needed you to really digest this lesson so that moving forward, you’ll protect her just like we do.” Protect her? The dam breaks. I grab an expensive vase from the side table and smash it onto the floor. I yank up the sleeves of the oversized sweatshirt they gave me, exposing the horrific, overlapping scars on my arms. “They tortured me day and night!” I scream, breaking down. “The men you paid… they did this! And my legs…” “Enough!” Caleb barks, cutting me off. The disgust in his eyes is palpable. “Even the special effects makeup for those fake scars looks real. I see you haven’t learned a damn thing.” Elias and Tristan look at me with profound disappointment. Caleb grabs my wrist roughly, drags me to the end of the hall, and shoves me into a walk-in storage closet. “If you haven’t learned how to submit by the time Maya gets back from her appointment, I’ll personally drive you back to that village myself.” He slams the door, locking it from the outside. His threat triggers a full panic attack. The trauma is deep in my bones. I can practically feel the chains clanking around my prosthetic ankles again. I pound on the door, my voice raw and broken. “I’ll sign the divorce papers! Please, don’t send me back there! I’ll do anything, just don’t send me back!” I don’t know how long I scream. My hands, still tender with old, unhealed wounds, are bleeding onto the wood before the door finally opens. Elias stands there. Seeing my dishevelled hair and swollen, red eyes, his initial look of concern instantly shifts to annoyance. “You just got back and all you do is throw tantrums. Can’t you just be quiet for five minutes?” He shoves me out of the way. I weigh less than ninety pounds now. I collapse onto the hardwood floor instantly. Elias freezes for a fraction of a second, then sneers. “Acting pathetic again? You think that’s going to make me let you out of the house?” Despite everything, my heart still flinches at his cruelty. My big brother never used to speak to me with such malice. I’m a transmigrator. I’ve been in this world since I was an infant. Our mother died in childbirth, and Elias practically raised me single-handedly. He used to treat me like I was made of glass. He wanted to give me the world on a silver platter. When the System first told me my mission was to redeem three potential villains to save this world, I tackled it head-on. I forced myself onto Caleb until he fell for me. I brought Tristan, a starving runaway, into our home. Elias never criticized me for it. In fact, he told Caleb and Tristan that I was a princess who deserved to be spoiled. Everyone in this city knew that you could offend Vance, Thorne, or Burke, but you absolutely never offended Elara Vance. In my original world, I was an unloved orphan. I had never known what it felt like to be cherished. So, when the mission was accomplished and I was certain they wouldn’t turn evil, I chose to stay in this world. I chose them. Until Elias brought dad’s secret illegitimate daughter, Maya, home. He held me while I cried about the affair, swearing to me, “Elara, dad is gone. Maya is technically our sister; we can’t just leave her on the street.” “I promise you, I’m only giving her a roof and some food. I won’t love her like I love you.” I didn’t like it, but I didn’t fight him. I didn’t realize Maya wouldn’t be satisfied with just a roof. I was the obstacle in her way. One day, as Elias was walking down the stairs, she poured boiling hot soup on herself and fell to her knees, sobbing at his feet. “Elias, help me! Elara tried to ruin my face!” When Caleb had a high fever and was delirious, I stayed by his side all night. The moment he opened his eyes, Maya pushed me out of the way and flopped onto his chest, crying. “Oh, Grant, you’re finally awake! I’ve been right here all night, I was so scared.” I used my own money to help Tristan’s startup survive a financial crisis. Maya made sure she was there when he found the funds. She slapped herself across the face, bruising her own cheek, and whispered to him while sniffling: “Tristan, don’t worry. I won’t tell Elara that I was the one who put up the money. Let her have the credit. I just want you to be okay.” Lie after lie, credit stolen time after time. They became increasingly disappointed in me. And the way they looked at Maya became increasingly tender. Even on the day Caleb married me, his face was a mask of resentment. I couldn’t handle the shift. I screamed, I cried, I begged Caleb, only to receive a cold retort. “Elara, if you can’t handle it, we can get a divorce.” By then, I had just found out I was two months pregnant. I didn’t want my baby to grow up without a father, so I swallowed my pride. I submitted. Until I lost the baby. All that pent-up rage exploded. I slapped her once. And for that one slap, I got five years of living hell. The countdown hologram flashes in my vision, pulling me back to the present. 6 hours left. I sway as I stand up, meeting Elias’s mocking gaze. My voice is devoid of all emotion. “I’m not acting. Since none of you like me anymore…” “Then give me the divorce papers and a legal severing of our sibling relationship.” Before I leave this world, I want no strings attached. No connection to them. There’s no point in fighting anymore. It’s meaningless. Just as the words leave my mouth, a heavy sound slams against the front door. Caleb is standing there, his face dark, with Maya clinging to his arm, her eyes red from crying.

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When we both fell into the water, Arthur chose to save me first. Because my sister was forever lost to that summer river. Afterward, both our families were drowning in grief and guilt. To repay the debt, my family took care of Arthur. And naturally, he and I ended up getting married. When we were fifty-eight, we went back to our hometown to pay respects to my sister. We stood by the very river that had swallowed her. Arthur suddenly pushed me away and jumped in. His dying words to me were: “Summer, if there is a next life, I will never save you.” It turned out that for all those years, he had never let go of the past. 1 Arthur violently shoved me away. My head slammed against the concrete bridge pier with a sickening crack. As my vision blurred, his last words echoed relentlessly in my mind. “Summer, if there is a next life, I will never save you…” Before I closed my eyes, I thought, If there is a next life, that would be for the best. When I opened my eyes again, the agonizing pain in my body had suddenly morphed into the suffocating panic of drowning. I kicked hard toward the surface, and immediately saw the silhouette of eighteen-year-old Arthur swimming desperately toward my sister. I froze for a split second, then swam after him. After the accident in my past life, I had taken swimming lessons and learned how to swim like a pro. Through hundreds of midnight nightmares, I wanted to save my sister more than anyone else. This time, I finally had the chance. Together, Arthur and I dragged my sister onto the riverbank. Water dripped relentlessly from our bodies. Arthur gasped for air and looked up. The moment his eyes locked onto mine, he completely froze. He instantly realized that I had come back, too. His lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but he ultimately remained silent. He just crouched down, instinctively preparing to give my sister CPR. “Don’t touch her!” I shoved him away forcefully, my voice hoarse but incredibly resolute. I remembered it all too clearly. In our past life, Arthur had saved me exactly like this. In a small, rural town in the 90s, gossip could drown a person faster than any river. Soon enough, rumors spread through the entire town. Eventually, pressured by both sets of parents, I dropped out of high school before even taking the SATs and married Arthur. This time, I absolutely would not let my sister be touched by him, causing her to walk the same doomed path I did. Besides, my sister didn’t even like him. I dropped to my knees beside her and pressed my hands firmly against her chest. “Wake up! Autumn! Please… wake up!” Large, hot tears splashed onto her pale face. Finally, she coughed violently, expelling the river water, and opened her eyes. I hugged her tight, my entire body shaking with sobs. My sister, slowly regaining her strength, wrapped her arms around me. This wasn’t a dream! I had actually saved her! The forty-year nightmare had finally ended in this very moment. We sat in the sun, waiting for our clothes to dry. Arthur sat silently a short distance away, his eyes fixed intensely on my sister. It wasn’t until late afternoon that we finally headed home. When we reached our front porch, Arthur stopped. He avoided my gaze and spoke quietly to my sister: “Go inside and change quickly. Don’t catch a cold.” With that, he turned and walked away, never sparing me a single glance. When we got inside, Mom and Dad were terrified by my sister’s pale face. “What happened? Why is Autumn so pale?” “It’s nothing, Old Man Miller’s dog jumped out and startled her,” I lied quickly, forcing a light tone. “But I chased it away, it didn’t bite her!” My parents shook their heads and sighed. “You! Always running wild! Hurry up, wash up, and go to bed!” Relieved, they turned and went back to their room. After they had gone to sleep, a soft knock came at the front door. 2 I opened the door. It was Arthur. He was holding a thermos of ginger tea. Seeing me, he looked a bit uncomfortable: “Ginger tea… give some to Autumn… to warm her up.” He paused, then reluctantly added, “You should have some, too.” I took it and thanked him. Just as I was about to close the door, he reached out and stopped it. “Summer,” Arthur’s voice was tight, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “You came back too, didn’t you?” As if he had made up his mind, he spoke faster: “Summer, you know I’ve always liked Autumn. What happened in our past life was a mistake! I only saved you because you were closer!” “Forget it ever happened. Don’t come bothering me, okay?” Arthur rushed through the words, as if pausing for even a second would mean I’d latch onto him forever. From eighteen to fifty-eight, these words had been buried in his heart for decades. And now, he had finally said them out loud. “Okay.” I looked at him, my heart surprisingly calm. “Arthur, you know I’ve never been into guys like you anyway.” A flash of stun crossed his face, but he eventually nodded. “Good.” 3 I took the warm thermos of ginger tea back to our room. My sister had already changed into clean pajamas and was drying her hair with a towel. Hearing me come in, she immediately looked up and asked: “Who was at the door? Was it Arthur?” I paused for a moment before setting the thermos on the desk. “Yeah. He brought this ginger tea. Said it’s to warm you up.” The corners of my sister’s mouth unconsciously curved upward; she was clearly very happy. She cupped the mug, taking small sips, the steam rising and softening her features. I hesitated, but still asked softly, “Autumn, are you still going to reject him?” The reason we had gone down to the river in the first place was because Arthur had asked her to meet him. He had planned to confess his feelings to her. But because my sister didn’t like him—or so she claimed—she dragged me along. Arthur probably didn’t know that my sister had caught onto his feelings a long time ago. When you like someone, you can’t hide it in your eyes. However, no one knew that I used to have a crush on Arthur, too. He was handsome, smart, and gentle. And because he liked my sister, he was especially nice to me by extension. Every day after school, he would wait for us outside my classroom and help me with my homework. When we were little, our parents were always busy and rarely had time to look after us. Once my sister reached school age, they told her to take care of me. I wasn’t as pretty as she was, and I certainly wasn’t as smart. Whenever Arthur saw my grades, he would always laugh and call me dense. “You can’t even solve a simple problem like this, Summer. How are you ever going to get into college?” I would get annoyed when he called me dense, but at the same time, I thought his smile was so gentle and handsome. A teenage girl’s crush is always hidden in those unspeakable, quiet moments. But the one he liked was my sister. So I buried those feelings deep, deep down inside. I never imagined that we would end up getting married because of my sister’s death. I had imagined a thousand different futures with him. But I never imagined it would be at the cost of my sister’s life. That was never the ending I wanted. And it certainly wasn’t the ending Arthur wanted. With a lost life standing between us, our hearts could never get close. Those hidden feelings never made a single ripple in the stagnant water of our decades-long marriage. Maybe Arthur genuinely never noticed my feelings, or maybe he just pretended not to see them. Until I realized that he had never, ever let go of my sister. Back then, I often wished we could just go back to the past. And now, we actually had. We all had the chance to change our futures. 4 “Summer.” My sister put down her mug, her tone carrying a hint of shyness: “Actually, I think… Arthur is a pretty good guy.” She turned to look at me. “Why don’t I give it a shot with him?” She paused, then asked softly, her eyes carefully watching my face: “Summer, are you… are you going to be mad?” My heart jolted like I’d been struck by lightning. Seeing that cautious look in her eyes, I finally understood. She had known all along. She knew I liked Arthur. That was why, in our past life, she insisted on dragging me to the river. It wasn’t because she was nervous. She wanted to speak up for me, to confess my feelings to him. She went there for me. And she died because of me. My nose stung. I forced down the surging emotions and intentionally raised my voice: “Autumn Vance! What are you talking about? Why would I be mad?!” I forced a laugh, keeping my tone as light as possible: “You know I’m totally over guys like Arthur now.” The gentleness and care Arthur possessed were reserved only for my sister. I had stopped liking him a long time ago. That youthful flutter had long been ground down by the passage of time. Now, I finally had the chance to walk a path that truly belonged to me. I would never have to sit in a lifeless house day after day. Waiting for a man who didn’t love me. 5 The next day, my sister and Arthur made it official. I climbed up into the branches of the huge oak tree at the edge of town to cool off. Below the tree, their laughter mixed with the sound of cicadas and drifted up to my ears. All summer, I quietly played their cover, and at the same time, I cracked open textbooks I hadn’t touched in ages. In this life, I wouldn’t have to drop out and get married. I was going to take the SATs and go to college. My grades were average; my only option was to work my ass off. When September rolled around, we started our senior year. My sister and Arthur were taking AP Science classes, while I was stuck in the standard Humanities track. I was in a different homeroom than they were. After school, the two of them showed up outside my classroom right on time. “Summer, let’s go home.” Arthur had my sister’s backpack slung over his shoulder. They both looked at me expectantly. I turned them down. “Autumn, you guys go ahead. I signed up for evening study hall.” My sister was stunned. “Since when? Why didn’t you tell me?” “My grades aren’t great, and if I want to get into a good college, I need to spend more time studying. I already told Mom and Dad. You guys go.” I didn’t even look up, my brow furrowed over the math worksheet in front of me. “But…” My sister wanted to say more, but Arthur’s face suddenly darkened. He grabbed her hand and turned away. “Let her be! Let her do whatever she wants! Let’s go!” The two of them walked away. I went back to burying my head in my math problems, only to hear a scoff from the desk behind me: “Heh. Interesting.” It was Cole Harrison. Cole had transferred from a big city prep school during the second semester of our junior year. Every day in class, he was either sleeping or reading comic books. He basically looked down his nose at everyone. He didn’t get along with anyone. I had certainly never spoken to him. I only knew his name because of my sister. I didn’t care what he meant by his comment. My time was more precious than anyone’s. I didn’t want to waste a single second. The old ceiling fan rattled and squeaked above me as I kept working on my math problems. That night, I walked home alone, carrying a flashlight. From the school to our house, there was a long, steep hill. I was slightly out of breath, quietly reciting history facts to myself. The night air was hot and sticky, but my steps had never felt so light. Until I saw Arthur standing near the entrance to our alleyway. He was clearly waiting for me. “Summer, you didn’t have to stay late just to avoid me.” He frowned at me, his voice low and serious: “It’s not safe for a girl to walk alone at night. Stop throwing a tantrum and start walking home with us tomorrow.” I looked at his face, at that expression that seemed to say he had me all figured out, and I just found it hilarious. “You think I’m avoiding you?” “Aren’t you? Ever since Autumn and I got together, you’ve been deliberately distancing yourself from me.” He took a deep breath, as if he were tolerating a child. “If you want to study, we can help you. There’s no need to act out like this.” “If something happens to you, Autumn will be worried.” He thought I was putting on a show. He thought my distance, my studying—it was all just a ploy to get his attention. “Arthur,” I stopped and looked him dead in the eye. “Do you really think everything I do revolves around you?” He was momentarily speechless. I continued, “I don’t like you. I genuinely don’t like you anymore.” “I’m staying for evening study hall for myself, and I’m going to college for myself! You flatter yourself way too much.” His face darkened, and his tone hardened: “Summer, do you really have to speak to me like that?” “You’re the one who blocked my path and started spouting narcissistic nonsense.” Combining both my lives, this was the first time I had ever openly fought with him. We stood there, glaring at each other in the muggy night wind. After a few seconds, he suddenly let out a short, cynical laugh. “Summer, you really think you can get into a good college? We’ll see about that! Don’t come begging me to tutor you when you fail.” Arthur threw those words at me and stormed off. I turned and walked toward my front door, but as I looked up, my heart skipped a beat. My sister was standing quietly in front of the house. I had no idea how long she had been watching. She took my backpack from me, stayed silent for a moment, and then spoke softly: “Summer, since you want to get into college that badly…” “Why don’t you move into the school dorms?”

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On the day I found out I was pregnant with triplets, I was sitting on a hard plastic chair in a community clinic waiting room, calculating the cost of baby formula. A notification popped up on my phone. An email. Sender: Ethan Vance. The body contained a single line: “The contract has expired. Your ten-million-dollar settlement has been cleared. Vacate the premises before the end of the month.” I stared at it for three seconds. Then I tapped reply and typed out every word deliberately: “Received. You don’t have to wait until the end of the month, I’ll leave tomorrow. I’ve already booked the notary.” Ten million dollars. Three kids. That’s over three million per kid. It was more than enough. The day I signed the papers, I walked out of the Vance estate with nothing but a backpack. The sun was shining brightly outside. Later, a rumor spread through the entire medical community. They said Ethan Vance, the brilliant Chief of Neurosurgery at Apex Medical Center, was tearing the city apart, hacking into traffic cameras just to find the ex-wife who took her ten million and vanished into thin air. There were seven or eight people ahead of me in line for the ultrasound at the clinic. I had the very last appointment of the day. When the wand pressed down on my stomach, it was so cold I instinctively flinched. The doctor stared at the monitor. Her expression shifted from routine to confused, and then from confused to utterly exaggerated. She moved the wand around, checking and rechecking. “Was this a natural conception?” “Yes.” She took off her glasses, wiped them, put them back on, and looked again. “Three. Three gestational sacs. All have heartbeats.” My brain buzzed. Triplets. My legs felt like jelly when I walked out of the ultrasound room. I sat down on the plastic chairs in the hallway, pulled out my phone, and opened the calculator app. Formula: maybe four hundred a month per kid. Times three… twelve hundred. Diapers: two hundred a kid. Times three… six hundred. Copays, prenatal vitamins, future daycare costs… The numbers kept rolling, getting bigger and bigger. I closed the calculator and stared blankly at the ceiling tiles. A banner notification dropped down from the top of my screen. Sender: Ethan Vance. I froze for a second. Ethan Vance. The husband I had found through a high-end matchmaking agency to enter into a contract marriage. He never emailed me. If he needed something, he had his assistant relay the message, or he left a sticky note on the kitchen island. I tapped it open. Subject: Contract Termination. The body was incredibly brief: Ms. Chloe Evans: After careful consideration, I am terminating our contract early. Attached is the dissolution agreement and the financial settlement plan. Settlement amount: $10,000,000.00 USD. Please vacate the premises before the end of this month. If you have any disputes, contact my attorney, Mr. Davis. Ethan Vance. Ten million dollars. I gripped my phone. A layer of goosebumps erupted across my back. It wasn’t from the cold. It was pure joy. I opened the reply box. My fingers were perfectly steady. “Dr. Vance, received and understood. I’ll book the notary, no need to wait until the end of the month. Are you free tomorrow? Let’s get it done then.” Send. I rested the phone on my knee, looked at the grimy window at the end of the hallway, and let a slow smile spread across my face. Triplets. Ten million dollars. I looked down and touched my stomach, my voice so quiet only I could hear it. “Three million each, babies. You’re set for life.” The next morning, at the notary’s office. I picked a location as far away from the Vance family’s territory as possible—the third floor of an aging office building on the east side of the city. Ethan didn’t show up. His private attorney, Mr. Davis, came in his place. Gray suit, thick-rimmed glasses, a manila envelope tucked under his arm. “Ms. Evans, here is the dissolution agreement and the itemized settlement. Please review them. Mr. Vance has granted me full power of attorney.” I took the packet and flipped straight to the very last page. Party A’s section already had the law firm’s stamp and a proxy authorization attached. I picked up the cheap ballpoint pen on the desk and signed my name in Party B’s section. Behind his glasses, Mr. Davis’s eyes flickered. “Ms. Evans, aren’t you going to read the clauses? Regarding future…” “No need. As long as the ten million clears, we’re good.” I slid the agreement back to him. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. He had probably prepared an entire contingency plan for today. What if she cries? What if she throws a fit? What if she demands to see Ethan? He didn’t need to use a single one. Stepping out of the office building, a light drizzle was falling. I popped open my umbrella and took a deep breath. I timed my return to the Vance estate for noon. Ethan’s mother would be at the country club spa, his sister at college, and the housekeeper taking her afternoon nap in her room. No one noticed me. I didn’t have many things. Everything fit into one backpack. The right half of the closet in the guest room was mine—a few out-of-season clothes, two books, a toiletry bag. The door to the master bedroom next door was half-open. I hadn’t stepped foot in that room in a year. Before I left, I glanced at his nightstand. There was a bottle of antacids sitting on it. Ethan had terrible stomach issues. He would come out of back-to-back surgeries and immediately chug black coffee just to keep going. Once, I got up in the middle of the night for a glass of water and heard noises from his room. The door was cracked open. I saw him hunched over on the edge of the bed, one hand gripping his knee, his face terrifyingly pale. The next day, I bought a bottle of antacids and left it outside his bedroom door. After that, whenever the bottle ran low, I quietly replaced it with a new one. He probably thought the housekeeper was buying them. I picked it up and checked. It was a third full. I put it back down. The last bottle. Once it was gone, it was gone. I left my security badge and spare keys on the entryway console. I didn’t leave a note. The heavy front door clicked shut behind me. The sound was very soft. I walked out of the gated community with my backpack. The subway station was a few blocks away. I didn’t walk too fast or too slow. When I swiped my card at the turnstile, it beeped, and the green arrow lit up. Suddenly, that little beep sounded incredibly beautiful. Like I had just leveled up. The subway car was mostly empty. I found a corner seat and opened my banking app. Ten million. Cleared. A long string of zeros stretched across the screen. I counted them twice just to make sure I wasn’t seeing things. I turned my screen brightness all the way down, paranoid that someone sitting next to me might see it and try to rob me. What does ten million dollars actually mean? My monthly salary as a clinical dietitian at Apex Medical Center was $4,500. If I didn’t eat or drink a single thing, it would take me one hundred and eighty-five years to save that much. And now, it was just sitting in my checking account. I leaned back against the seat and let out a long, slow breath. Then, I made a decision. When I got out of the subway, I didn’t go looking for a cheap rental. I ordered an Uber and headed to Rivercrest Estates on the west side of the city. I had been eyeing this neighborhood for a long time. It was a waterfront, gated community of luxury townhomes. The ground-floor units came with private, fenced-in yards. It was quiet, highly secure, and the perfect place to raise kids. In the past, I would only ever glance at it when I drove by. I wouldn’t even have the nerve to walk into the sales office. Today was different. When I walked into the leasing center, the young receptionist at the front desk gave me a quick once-over. Her smile was polite, but her eyes were cold. “Hello, ma’am. What kind of floor plan are you looking for? Our smallest units here start at around two million.” She put heavy emphasis on the words two million. I said, “I don’t want a small one. A ground-floor townhome with a private yard. Do you have any available?” Her smile froze for a half-second. “For that floor plan… the total price ranges from four to five million, depending on the square footage and waterfront view. Were you just looking to get some information, or…” “I want to tour it now.” She probably thought I was wasting her time, but she took me anyway. The living room had vaulted ceilings, and the floor-to-ceiling windows opened right out into the private yard, overlooking the river. Three south-facing bedrooms, with a massive walk-in closet in the master. I stood in the garden for a while, imagining three little toddlers rolling around on the grass. “How much for this exact unit?” “Four point eight million.” “How much of a discount if I pay entirely in cash?” The young agent finally lost her composure. Her face practically screamed, Lady, please stop joking around. “Ma’am, for a cash offer, we could do a two percent discount, but we would need you to provide proof of funds first…” I pulled out my phone, opened my banking app, and handed it to her. She looked down at it. Then she looked up at me. Then she looked down at it again. “Please wait here for just a moment. I’ll go get our Managing Broker.” Three minutes later, the Broker personally carried out a tray of artisan coffee. “Hello, ma’am, an absolute pleasure! Please, sit down right here. This townhome is the crown jewel of our entire development, you have fantastic taste…” Half an hour later, I wired the earnest money deposit. The standard closing process usually took about a month, but the broker said he could expedite the paperwork for a cash buyer. Three days. When I walked out of the sales office, it was getting dark. The evening breeze blowing off the river carried a hint of moisture. It felt amazing. I stood on the sidewalk and called my mom. “Chloe, have you eaten dinner yet?” “I ate. Mom, I need to tell you something. I moved out of the Vance house. The contract expired, it’s over.” The line was quiet for two seconds. “If it’s over, it’s over. Are you doing okay for money?” “I’m fine. Mom, I bought a house.” “You bought a house?” My mom’s voice shot up an octave. “Where did you get the money to buy a house?” “He gave me a severance package.” “How much?” “Enough to buy a house.” My mom was silent for a moment, probably digesting the information. “Alright. If you bought it, you bought it. Your dad and I will come up this weekend to see it.” “Okay.” I hung up the phone and looked down, resting my hand on my stomach. “Babies, Mommy just bought you a house with a backyard. You’re going to have a great place to soak up the sun.” For the three days before closing, I stayed in a hotel near Rivercrest Estates. It wasn’t a five-star luxury resort, just a clean, standard business hotel. But the bed was huge, the duvet was soft, there was no one in the room next door slamming doors at 3:00 AM, and there was no one at the breakfast table giving me a look that said, You don’t belong here. I slept better than I had in an entire year. The next day, I went to the mall and bought myself two sets of maternity clothes. Not luxury designer brands, just soft, comfortable fabrics that looked nice. Then I went to a high-end baby boutique. I pushed a shopping cart through the aisles, putting everything I would need for three babies inside, one by one. Bottles: three. Swaddle blankets: three. Newborn onesies: three sets. When I walked out pushing a cart overflowing with baby gear, the setting sun hit my face, warm and golden. I had lived in the Vance house for a year and never bought a single thing I actually wanted. It wasn’t that I couldn’t afford a small treat, it was that my spirit had been completely crushed. Now, things were different. I had ten million dollars, three babies, and a house with a garden. I didn’t have to read anyone’s mood. I didn’t need anyone’s permission. On move-in day, I dropped my backpack onto the brand-new sofa, stepped barefoot onto the grass in my backyard, and took a deep breath. “Babies, we’re home.” At that exact same time, inside the Vance estate. The housekeeper stood in the living room, her voice trembling as she spoke to Ethan’s mother, who had just returned from a spa day. “Mrs. Vance, Ms. Chloe… she left.” “She left?” The elder Mrs. Vance took off her designer sunglasses, her tone as casual as if she were discussing what to have for dinner. “It’s about time. Did she clean out her things?” “She… she didn’t take anything. Clothes, toiletries, the household allowance card you gave her… she left it all. She just walked out with a backpack.” Mrs. Vance paused. She walked into the guest bedroom. The right half of the closet was empty. It wasn’t the kind of empty that implies someone moved a ton of stuff out; it was the kind of empty that showed there was barely anything there to begin with. On the shoe cabinet in the hall, her hospital ID badge and spare keys were laid out perfectly. On the nightstand, a bottle of antacids sat there, less than half full. There was no note. Mrs. Vance stared at the pill bottle for a few seconds, unable to pinpoint exactly what felt wrong. “Ungrateful,” she muttered, shutting the closet door and walking out. That evening, Dr. Audrey Thorne came over. She was wearing a pristine white knit dress, her makeup flawless. She carried a bowl of expensive bird’s nest soup into the living room, sitting with perfect posture on the sofa. “Mrs. Vance, I heard Chloe moved out?” “She’s gone,” Mrs. Vance scoffed. “Left cleanly, too. At least she knows her place.” “Don’t be too hard on her, she did keep Ethan company for a year,” Audrey said, stirring her soup, her tone the picture of elegant empathy. Ethan’s younger sister, Maya, trotted downstairs, chewing on a straw. “Audrey, stop defending her. My brother gave her ten million dollars! Of course she left cleanly!” Audrey’s hand froze holding the spoon. Ten million dollars. When she drafted that email, she hadn’t mentioned a single word about money. Did Mr. Davis execute the financial payout based on the original contract clauses? But that didn’t make sense either. Mr. Davis hadn’t received a direct order from Ethan. Why would he dare initiate the transfer of funds on his own? Unless… he didn’t verify it. The email was sent from Ethan’s secure corporate account. Mr. Davis assumed it was authorized. Ten million dollars, just transferred out like that. Audrey dug her fingernails into her palms. But she quickly forced a smile, pushing the anger down. Regardless of the money, Chloe was gone. That was all that mattered. Right in that moment, in Frankfurt, Germany. In a luxury hotel suite, Ethan’s assistant, Jack, had just finished dropping off an updated flight itinerary. Before leaving, he casually mentioned something. “Oh, right, Dr. Vance. While you were away these past few days, Dr. Thorne from Cardiology came by your office twice. She said she was picking up data for the joint research project.” Ethan barely registered the comment. After Jack left, Ethan casually opened his email to check some medical literature. His eyes swept over his “Sent” folder. The top email was sent three days ago. Recipient: Chloe Evans. Subject: Contract Termination. He had never sent that email. He clicked it open, read it, and his expression shifted from confusion to complete blankness, and then from blankness to an unreadable, terrifying storm. He picked up his phone. “Jack. Change my flight. Book me on the earliest flight home tonight.” Eleven hours later, Ethan Vance stood in the doorway of the guest bedroom in his estate. The right half of the closet was empty. The toothbrush cup on the bathroom counter was gone. The curtains were drawn perfectly, making the room look like no one had ever lived there. On the nightstand, that bottle of antacids was still sitting there. He picked it up. It felt incredibly light. He shook it; only a few pills rattled against the plastic. He turned and asked the housekeeper. “These pills. Who usually buys them?” The housekeeper looked startled. “It was… Ms. Chloe. She always went to the pharmacy to buy them herself.” Ethan’s grip on the plastic bottle tightened until his knuckles turned white. “Where did she go?” “I don’t know, sir. She left the day she signed the papers. Just took a backpack.” He shoved the pill bottle into his coat pocket, spun around, and marched out the door. He drove straight to the hospital. Audrey Thorne’s office was at the end of the Cardiology wing. When he pushed the door open, Audrey was reviewing an X-ray on the light board. She looked up, startled for a second, before a bright smile broke across her face. “Ethan? You’re back! Why didn’t you tell me you were…” “Three days ago. Who used my computer to send an email to Chloe?” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. Audrey’s smile froze on her face. “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Jack said you came into my office twice. Keycard access logs can be pulled. Email login IP addresses can be tracked. Do you want me to order an IT audit?” The room was dead silent for three seconds. Audrey slowly lowered the X-ray and leaned back in her chair. “It was me.” Then she stood up, her eyes turning red, her voice trembling. “Ethan, look at what she is! She’s a bottom-tier dietitian who came from a matchmaking agency! She doesn’t even understand your world. You being married to her was just…” “How did you help me?” Ethan’s voice wasn’t loud, but it was lethal. Audrey snapped her mouth shut as if she’d been choked. “Did you help me by driving my wife away? Did you help me spend ten million dollars to buy a divorce I knew absolutely nothing about?!” “The ten million wasn’t me—” “I know it wasn’t you. Davis saw an email from my secure account and followed the contract protocol. But the trigger for all of this… was you.” He stared at her with eyes like ice. “The joint research project. Your name is being removed today. The keynote presentation at next week’s symposium… I’m assigning it to someone else.” “Ethan!” “From now on, your career has absolutely nothing to do with me.” He turned and walked out. The heavy door clicked shut. Audrey stood frozen in her office, her entire body shaking. She had waited for three years. From her residency to her fellowship, from attending physician to finally making Deputy Chief. She thought that as long as Chloe disappeared, everything would snap back onto its rightful track. But on that track… there had never been a seat reserved for her. Ethan walked out of the hospital and sat in his car. He dialed Chloe’s number. The phone you have dialed is powered off. He sent a text. Message failed. She had blocked him on everything. He rested his phone on the steering wheel, leaned his head back against the leather seat, and closed his eyes. The car was suffocatingly quiet. He remembered a night last month. He had come home late after a brutal twelve-hour surgery. Walking past the guest bedroom, he noticed a sliver of light spilling out from under her door. He hadn’t knocked. He thought it wasn’t necessary. Now, the room behind that door was empty. Even if he wanted to knock, no one would answer. The nearly empty pill bottle in his pocket pressed uncomfortably against his thigh. He picked up his phone and called his lawyer, Davis. “Find out where Chloe is living right now.” Davis paused on the other end, then said, “No need to investigate, Mr. Vance. Ms. Evans purchased a luxury townhome in Rivercrest Estates three days ago. Paid entirely in cash. I personally processed the title transfer.” Ethan didn’t say a word. Ten million dollars, and she dropped nearly five million of it on a house instantly. He realized he didn’t even know what kind of houses she liked. They had been married for a year, and he knew absolutely nothing about her. At that exact moment, the scene at Rivercrest Estates was vastly different. I was standing barefoot in the grass, watering my garden. The evening light was soft, and the water from the watering can sparkled on the green leaves. That afternoon, I had done something I never once did while living with the Vances. I went to a massive furniture warehouse. I picked out a king-sized bed for myself, demanding the softest, most luxurious mattress they had. Then I picked out a set of nursery furniture. The sales associate told me I could just buy one crib for now and add more later if needed. I told her I didn’t need to wait for “later.” “I need three sets, please. Exactly the same.” The associate gave me a look, probably assuming I was buying for clients. “Ma’am, three cribs? How many kids do you have?” “Three.” “…Triplets?” “Yes.” The associate’s expression mirrored the ultrasound tech from the clinic. When I handed her my card, she couldn’t stop grinning, probably thinking she had just met her guardian angel of commission. I spent the entire afternoon buying everything. Cribs, luxury strollers, high-tech car seats, industrial bottle sterilizers. Three of everything. Every single item, I bought three. When I pushed my cart out of the baby boutique, it was piled so high it looked like a mountain. An older woman walking past did a double-take. I looked down at my stomach and whispered, “You three aren’t even out yet, and you’ve already cost your mom over sixty grand. You better take care of me when I’m old.” When I got home and was watering the flowers, my mom and dad arrived. It was a four-hour bus ride from their small town. My dad had a bad back, and his legs were shaking when he got out of the cab, leaning heavily on my mom. My mom was carrying two massive plastic grocery bags filled with homemade pickled radishes, salted duck eggs, and a giant jar of chili paste. When my mom walked through the front door, she froze. She looked at the massive living room, looked out at the garden, looked at the sprawling kitchen island, her mouth opening and closing like a fish. “Chloe, how much is rent on this place?” “Four point eight.” “Four thousand eight hundred a month?! That’s highway robbery!” “It’s not rented. I bought it. Four point eight million.” The plastic bags in my mom’s hands nearly crashed to the floor. My dad slowly walked out into the garden, looked at the grass, looked at the river view, and then stared up at the sky for a while. He didn’t ask about the money. He just said, “This is a good spot. The kids will have room to run.” Once my mom recovered from the shock, she made a beeline for the kitchen. “Look at the size of this stove! Where’s the fridge? Where’s the fridge?! I need to put the duck eggs away.” I laughed. My mom was always like this. No matter how big the house was, her first priority was always locating the refrigerator. During dinner, I told them about the triplets. My mom dropped her fork on the table. My dad stopped mid-chew. It was dead quiet for about five seconds. My mom slammed her hand on the table. “Holy cow! The Evans ancestors are blessing us from beyond the grave!” My dad didn’t say anything. He put his chopsticks down and looked at me for a long, serious minute. “Can your body handle it?” “I can handle it.” “Are you short on cash?” “No.” “Then we’re good.” He patted my shoulder. His touch was light, but firm. “You’ve got your mother and me.”

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I knew the countdown to my destruction had begun. I stood there, holding the boy my sister had abandoned seven years ago. Finally, I admitted to the matriarch of the Sterling empire that I wasn’t the woman who spent that fateful, passionate night with her son, the billionaire heir Elias Sterling. Vanessa, my sister, had returned. With a cold, gentle smile, she pulled the boy into her arms, claiming the status she had discarded. She looked at me and seethed, “You’ve occupied my spot long enough, Audrey. It’s time you gave Elias and Leo back to me.” After a long, suffocating silence, I agreed. I had only one request: “Give me enough cash to disappear. Let me get fully settled abroad before you reveal the truth to Elias.” I knew Elias Sterling. He was ruthless and vindictive. If he found out I had successfully deceived him and the entire Sterling family for seven years, being broke would be the least of my worries. He’d probably make sure I was erased. 1 “Mom.” Leo stood in the doorway, wearing his prep school uniform, his backpack hanging off one shoulder. “Hey, buddy.” I forced a smile and walked over, tousling his hair. “How was second grade today? Tough day?” “I met a lady.” He looked at me, confusion swimming in his dark eyes. “She said she’s your sister. My aunt.” I froze. My hands stopped moving through his hair. It took me a long moment to find my voice. “She looks like you,” Leo continued, clutching the strap of his bag. “I tried to call her ‘Auntie,’ but she hated it. She said she wasn’t my aunt.” My fingertips began to tremble. My throat felt seared. “What else did she say, Leo?” He answered obediently, “She said to tell you that, and that you would know how to reach her.” I leaned against the wall, dizziness washing over me. Seven years ago. Vanessa had given birth to Leo in a dingy apartment, miles away from Sterling territory. She was determined to leave, refusing to even look at the baby. I had tried to stop her. “You haven’t even recovered. Why don’t we just go to the Sterlings? It’s his blood. They won’t turn him away.” Vanessa had cracked. “The baby was a secret, Audrey! You think they’ll respect me? They won’t let me through the front gate. Best case scenario, they take the kid and kick me to the curb! It’s ‘cash for the baby’ at best!” I stared at the tiny creature. “Then what about him?” She was resolute. “Keeping him only drags me down. Take him to a fire station. Safe haven. Do it.” Vanessa left that winter. She abandoned me, and she abandoned her son. I was broke that year. I was desperate. But I couldn’t leave that tiny, wrinkled thing on a doorstep. So, I picked up the baby and walked to the front gates of the massive Sterling estate. I ignored the judgmental, sneering, and disgusted looks of the security detail and house staff. I simply said, “I need to see Elias Sterling. I have his son.” It didn’t go the way Vanessa predicted. I wasn’t kicked out. I was ushered into a waiting room. Within an hour, a rushed DNA test was administered. By the time Elias arrived home, his mother, Eleanor, was holding the report with an unreadable expression. “It seems we have an heir.” Elias was tall, striking, and absolutely frigid. He only spared me one cold, indifferent glance. I lowered my eyes, terrified. I only dared this gamble based on the gritty details Vanessa had shared with me. She told me that during their encounter, Elias had demanded the lights be off. He had never seen her face clearly. But standing before a man with that much crushing presence, my confidence evaporated. I was playing a high-stakes game with no cards. Elias said nothing, but he didn’t look at the baby either. Eleanor cleared her throat. “This girl carried him for nine months. It couldn’t have been easy…” Elias interrupted, his voice clipped. “I’ll marry her.” Everyone in the room went stiff. Including me. My wild plan had only gone as far as dropping the baby off. I hadn’t thought about my own future past that afternoon. The atmosphere solidified. Elias’s gaze landed on me, casual yet terrifying. “My mistake. I’ll atone for it.” Eleanor Sterling thought about it for a few moments, then rubbed her temples. “As you wish. If your mind is made up, start planning the wedding.” In that moment, I gripped the fabric of my cheap skirt. I didn’t know Elias’s angle. He didn’t lack options for a wife. Every socialite in the city would have line up to be a stepmother to the Sterling heir. Yet, he was willing to marry a girl who had secretly had his child. Maybe he wanted a “pure” family structure? I couldn’t tell. But I was poor, desperate, and this was my chance. Furthermore, this child was Vanessa’s, making him blood family to me. I lifted my eyes, offering Elias a timid smile. “I will do my best to be a good wife. And a good mother.” And just like that, the lie began. It lasted seven years. 2 “Why are you so distracted?” Elias had his arm around my waist, pulling me close on the sofa. He cut a calm glance toward me. I snapped out of it, leaning into him, my voice soft. “Leo seems thinner lately. If he loses any more weight, he’ll be nothing but bones.” Elias frowned, his tone turning icy. “You focus too much of your energy on him.” Saying that, he tipped my chin up, kissing me hard, demanding compliance. He only let go when I was completely out of breath. He gripped my waist, pulling me onto his lap. Elias looked down at me. “You have something on your mind.” His sharp, predatory intelligence always terrified me. But I had seven years of experience in deflecting. I brought it back to the boy, speaking with concern: “Leo’s teacher called. She said he’s not socializing with the other kids. Do you think we should set up an appointment with a child psychologist? I’m worried…” “Audrey.” Elias interrupted me, his eyes black pools. “You need to find your own life.” I paused, sighing. “Okay.” I sat on his lap, watching his long fingers tap across a laptop keyboard, efficiently handling Sterling Group business. He didn’t ask again. I had escaped this time. But Vanessa was back. You can only hide for so long. The second she threw a maternity DNA test on Elias’s desk, my lie would shatter. I, the imposter, would be exposed. It had been days since Leo told me about the “aunt,” and I still hadn’t contacted Vanessa. I subconsciously twisted my fingers together, breathing in, then breathing out. A visible sigh escaped me again. Elias had reached his limit. He snapped the laptop shut, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “Forget about Leo for a second. Worry about yourself.” When he pulled my sleep shirt up, my mind went sharp with panic. I tried to push him away. “Wait, Elias, hold on. I just remembered I have something to do. Seriously. I need to make Leo a snack for tomorrow…” He pinned both my wrists above my head with one hand, looking down at me with a smirk. “You talk too much, honey.” I glared at him, huffing. Elias held my waist, his voice sinking low. “Just moan. That’s the sound I like.” 3 I don’t know how much time passed. I lay on the sofa, numb and staring at the ceiling. Elias was already dressed in his bespoke suit, looking calm and expensive. He kissed my forehead. “Going to the office. Don’t wait up for dinner.” I nodded exhaustedly. My relationship with Elias Sterling was strange. We had more intimacy and closeness than a simple marriage of convenience, but there was definitely no intense, romantic love between us. He was rarely home for meals. He barely asked about Leo. It was only when he wanted me that there was any trace of warmth. But it was only a trace. Aside from that one area of our marriage, we had nothing to talk about. I drifted into a doze on the primary bedroom sofa. I woke up when I heard the front door open downstairs. Leo was home from school. I put on my slippers and went downstairs. “Leo? Why are you home so la—” My voice died in my throat. Vanessa was standing in the foyer, holding Leo’s hand. My lips moved, but it took a long moment for any sound to come out. “Vanessa.” Leo offered a bright smile. “Mom! The lady took me to the carnival after school!” I forced my lips into a smile, walking over to him, one agonizing step at a time. I crouched down and pinched his cheek. “Did Nanny and the driver follow you?” He nodded. I smiled again. “Okay, good. But next time, Nanny needs to call Mom first before you go somewhere, okay?” Leo nodded again. Vanessa spoke up, her voice freezing. “Wow. You really do look like a mother.” I didn’t answer her. Vanessa hadn’t changed much in seven years. She was wearing a trench coat and carrying a designer bag. She looked nothing like the broke, desperate girl who fled Los Angeles. She pulled Leo gently into her embrace, then looked directly at me. “You’ve occupied my spot long enough, Audrey. It’s time you gave Elias and Leo back to me.” Her voice wasn’t loud, so Leo didn’t sense anything was wrong. He just blinked in confusion. “What spot?” I went stiff, my fists clenching involuntarily. Vanessa lowered her voice, speaking so only I could hear. “We are sisters, so I won’t sue you for impersonating me and taking my place for this long. But if you try to fight me, you won’t win.” Saying that, she squeezed Leo’s shoulder and smiled down at him. “Leo.” My voice sounded hoarse and dry. “Did you have fun today?” Leo’s personality resembled Elias’s; he wasn’t a cheerful kid. But he offered a rare grin, looking up at Vanessa. “Yeah.” “Then…” I forced the words out. “The parent-teacher conference the day after tomorrow. If both Vanessa and I can go, who would you want to come?” He paused, then hesitantly took hold of Vanessa’s hand. I was silent for a long time. Then I patted his back. “Go to your room and do your homework, okay?” After Leo left. Vanessa and I stared at each other for a long time. I let out a self-deprecating laugh. “I’ll leave. Give me a sum of money. Let me get completely settled abroad before you reveal the truth.” Knowing Elias Sterling’s vindictive nature, if he found out I had lied to him for seven years… He’d probably ruin me. Vanessa frowned. “How much?” “I raised your son for you this entire time.” I took a step back. “One million.” She sneered. “And here I was, almost complimenting you. Selling your nephew for cash? Classy.” I just looked at her. After a few minutes of silence, she said, “Fine. But I only have two hundred thousand available right now. That’s enough to keep you alive for a while. Once the dust settles and I have access to Sterling assets, I’ll send you the rest.” I whispered, “Deal.” 4 That evening. Elias texted me: Won’t be home tonight. Okay, hubbie. I replied instantly. Him: ? I stared at the question mark. In the past, to maintain my role as the perfect, adoring wife, I would have replied with endless叮嘱 (mothering). Like: Don’t work too hard, Elias. I’ll be waiting up for you. Will you be home tomorrow? That sort of thing. But roles are just roles. Since my time as Mrs. Sterling was up, I couldn’t be bothered to act anymore. I stretched, then started packing. As I packed, I realized I didn’t want to leave anything behind. The designer dresses, the necklaces, the bags… they were all my precious babies. I ordered the staff to bring up five huge suitcases. I got lost in the packing. So lost that I didn’t notice Elias opening the primary bedroom door, watching me with an expressionless face, leaning against the doorframe. It was only after all five huge suitcases were zipped shut that I stretched my sore back. And locked eyes with Elias, whose gaze was deeper than an abyss. I went stiff. “Hi… Elias. Hubbie. Good evening… I thought you weren’t coming home?” A corner of his mouth twitched, and he spoke with a terrifying gentleness. “If I didn’t come home, where were you planning on going?” “Oh,” I forced a cheerful laugh. “I’ve been so worried about Leo lately, I haven’t been sleeping well. I decided to take a little vacation to clear my head…” Elias stared at me for a long moment, then surprisingly, didn’t push me. He just nodded. “Fine.” I bit my lip. “While I’m gone, spend more time with Leo. He’s quiet, and you two barely talk. Also, make sure the chef makes more steak; he’s a growing boy…” “Audrey,” Elias’s voice carried a hint of impatience. “Even if you are gone, nobody in the Sterling family is going to mistreat him.” I was stunned. “…Right.” Actually, I still wanted to say more. Like how happy I had been in the Sterling family for these seven years. Eleanor hadn’t been a difficult mother-in-law, and Leo was actually a good kid. And also. I didn’t want to leave Elias Sterling. But the woman who had spent that night with Elias Sterling seven years ago wasn’t me, and I wasn’t the boy’s biological mother. I had lived as Mrs. Sterling, enjoying the billionaire lifestyle for all these years. That should be enough. It’s just… why was I so sad? Elias turned, his voice flat. “Stay out as long as you need. Don’t worry about rushing back.” He walked toward his home office, not casting a single glance back. My fingers curled. I whispered, “Okay.”

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He called it a matter of honor. A sacred pledge to a fallen brother-in-arms. To me, it felt like an ending. Because he had to rush his late best friend’s sister to the hospital, my fiancé canceled our rehearsal dinner—and essentially, our wedding—at the very last minute. When his call finally came through, the banquet hall was already packed with our friends and family. My older brother, Mark, grabbed my hand, his face tight with sympathy. “Elara, let’s just call it. We can’t sit here and let people pity you.” “If Grant Reed doesn’t show up, it’s his loss, not yours!” I looked up at the huge projector screen looping our engagement photos. I forced a bitter, hollow smile. “We aren’t canceling. The caterers are already plating.” “Let’s just consider this an early Thanksgiving dinner for everyone I love.” Chapter 1 Silence dropped over the hall the moment the words left my mouth. My parents looked sick. But they didn’t say a word to stop me. They just silently began ushering relatives and friends to their tables. I walked down from the stage, going from table to table, raising a glass at each one. Nobody dared to mention Grant. Nobody asked what had happened. They just raised their glasses, muttered “Happy Thanksgiving,” said their congratulations, and downed their drinks. I drank a lot. By the end, my stomach felt like it was full of battery acid. Mark held me up, his eyes rimmed with red. “Elara, was this worth it?” I set my empty glass on the table, my voice dead. “Worth has nothing to do with it.” After the last guest was ushered out, only my immediate family remained in the hotel lobby. My mom finally broke, tears streaming down her face. “How could Grant Reed do this to you?” My dad rubbed her back, sighing. “Let it go. Our daughter knows what she’s doing.” I checked my phone. No new messages. No missed calls. Grant’s call had come in that afternoon, his tone devoid of even a hint of guilt. He said Brianna Reed—his fallen buddy’s younger sister—had sudden appendicitis and needed an immediate transfer to a specialist hospital for surgery. He said he was the only family she had left. He had to escort her personally. He told me to cancel the dinner and explain it to the relatives. He sounded just like he did when issuing orders back at the base. I had only asked one question. “Acute appendicitis? Our base hospital can’t handle a routine appendectomy?” I’m a trauma surgeon at that very hospital. I could perform that surgery with my eyes closed. There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line before he left me with three words. “She’s scared, Elara.” Then, he hung up. Right. She was scared. Brianna Reed, the sister of the man who died saving Grant’s life. The girl he swore to protect forever. She was delicate. Frail. Couldn’t stand the sight of blood. She was his responsibility. Grant said that so often it felt like a mantra. So, because she was scared, our engagement dinner could be canceled. Because she was scared, my three years of waiting and devotion could be erased with a single sentence. I opened Instagram. Brianna’s story had just updated. A photo. Grant was sitting by her hospital bed, head bowed, intently peeling an apple. His profile showed absolute focus. The caption read: [With big brother here, I’m not scared anymore. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.] In the corner of the photo, I could see Grant’s phone sitting on the nightstand. The screen was bright, displaying a video game interface. He had time to play games, but not time to send me a single text. I clicked off my phone and turned to my brother. “Mark, take me home.” I spent the Thanksgiving holiday entirely alone. My parents and Mark wanted to stay with me, But I made up excuses to send them away. I didn’t want them to see me like this. I sent Grant a few texts over the next couple of days. Asked how Brianna was doing. Asked when he was coming back. No reply. On Thanksgiving night, looking out at the city lights in every window, I boiled a pot of frozen generic dumplings for one. The holiday specials on TV were loud and cheerful, But I couldn’t process any of it. Scrolling through my phone, I saw Brianna had posted again. A video this time. Grant was holding a bowl of steaming soup, feeding her spoonful by spoonful. Brianna looked pale, but her eyes were full of smiles. At the end of the video, she flashed a peace sign at the camera. [Grant cooked this soup himself. Better than anything in the world.] The comments were blowing up. “OMG, where do I find a guy like that!” “Brianna, is this your boyfriend? He’s hot!” Brianna replied to one of them. “Haha, no, he’s just the best ‘big brother’ ever.” Followed by a blushing emoji. I stared at that bowl of soup. I remembered telling Grant once That my mom made the best chicken noodle soup. He had said that once he learned how, he’d make it for me every winter. Turns out, he learned. It’s just that the first person to taste it wasn’t me. Chapter 2 I dumped the rest of the dumplings into the trash. My stomach started twisting again. When the holiday break ended, I went back to work at the hospital. Numbing surgery schedules, rounds, charting. Life seemed to be back on its sterile, organized track. Until I ran into Grant and Brianna in a hospital corridor. Grant was in civilian clothes, Carrying a thermos. Brianna was leaning heavily on his arm, smiling sweetly. She had been discharged and was back for a follow-up. When they saw me, Brianna’s smile faltered for a microsecond, Before she called out to me, sounding timid. “Hi, Dr. Vance.” Grant’s expression didn’t change. He just nodded. “Back at work, I see.” “Yeah.” I looked at him, waiting for an explanation. An apology. Something. But he gave none. He just turned to Brianna. “Wait here. I’m going to go pull your file for the check-up.” Then he walked right past me, As if I were an irrelevant stranger. Brianna walked up to me, her voice low. “Elara, please don’t be mad at Grant.” “Everything with the dinner was my fault.” “I was in so much pain that day. I really thought I was dying.” “I got scared and called him.” “I didn’t know that day was your…” Her eyes welled up with tears. “Well, you know now,” I cut her off. She froze, stunned. “Elara, I…” “Your attending physician is my mentor, Dr. Albright,” I said coldly. “He’s the head of general surgery. The best we have.” “An appendectomy is a routine, thirty-minute procedure for him.” “Your ‘fear’ wasted Grant’s time, consumed specialized hospital resources,” “And destroyed my engagement dinner.” Brianna’s face went gray. She bit her lip, and tears began to fall. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to.” Right then, Grant came back. Seeing Brianna in tears, his brow instantly furrowed into a deep scowl. He strode over, putting himself directly between Brianna and me. “Elara, what are you doing?” His voice was ice, demanding an answer. “Just stating facts.” “Facts? You terrified her into crying. That’s your idea of facts?” He looked at me, his eyes full of deep disappointment. “I thought you were above being this petty, Elara.” “Grant, you owe me an explanation,” I said, my voice trembling. “Explanation for what? I already told you, it was an emergency.” “Escorting a routine appendicitis patient is an emergency?” “She isn’t just a patient. She’s Leo’s sister!” He raised his voice, attracting attention. “I promised Leo before he bled out over there that I would treat her like my own flesh and blood!” “And what about me?” I looked at him. “Grant, what am I to you?” He went silent. Colleagues were passing by, whispering and staring at us. I felt like a side-show exhibit. Brianna tugged at his sleeve, sobbing quietly. “Grant, let’s just go. It’s all my fault.” “It has nothing to do with you,” Grant said, turning to her, his voice instantly softening. When he turned back to me, the ice was back. “Elara, Brianna isn’t fully recovered. Stop upsetting her.” “You need to apologize to her. Right now.” Apologize? Because I exposed her lie? I looked at Grant’s cold, indifferent face. He felt like a stranger. I smiled. A tight, dead thing. “Fine.” I stepped around him to face Brianna. She flinched back a little, acting terrified. I looked her dead in the eye, enunciating every word. “I am sorry.” “I should never have interrupted this touching family moment.” With that, I turned on my heel and walked away. Behind me, I heard Grant’s angry bark. “Elara! What is wrong with your attitude!” I didn’t look back. For the next week, Grant made no attempt to contact me. I didn’t reach out either. Rumors started flying around the hospital nurses’ station. Some said Grant Reed had fallen for his tragic little ward and was going to dump me. Others said I had a terrible temper and had nagged my hero fiancé right out the door. I heard it all, and I ignored it all. Chapter 3 Until one day, the nursing supervisor found me. She’s an old friend of my dad’s and has always looked out for me. She pulled me into her office and locked the door. “Elara, what is going on with you and Grant?” I shook my head. “Nothing.” “Don’t give me that,” she sighed. “I’ve heard the talk.” “Look, that Brianna Reed girl? She’s trouble. A manipulator.” “I heard from the surgical residents that Brianna didn’t even need that transfer.” “She threw a massive fit, claiming she was terrified of having a scar, and demanded Grant pull strings to get her to a private specialist in the city for minimally invasive surgery.” “And Grant actually did it. He used his military connections to twist arms and coordinate a bed that she didn’t medically require.” “Do you know how long a young soldier who actually needed emergency trauma care had to wait on a gurney in the hallway that night because we were short-staffed and coordinating her non-emergency transport?” Her words hit me like a sledgehammer. I had always told myself Grant was just blinded by Brianna’s helplessness. That he just had an overactive sense of duty because of Leo. I never imagined he would violate protocol, abuse his power, and risk lives for her whim. That was a soldier’s life. And in his eyes, it was less important than Brianna being scared of a tiny scar. “Elara,” the supervisor said gently, taking my hand. “Grant is a decorated officer, yes. But heroes are just people.” “People make mistakes. People get manipulated.” “Don’t let this ruin you.” I nodded numbly. “I understand, Auntie Sarah.” I walked out of her office and headed toward the inpatient wing. To Brianna’s room. The door wasn’t fully closed. It was cracked open an inch. I stood in the hall, ready to push it open, but stopped when I heard Brianna talking on the phone. Her voice wasn’t weak or timid at all. She sounded excited. Triumphant. “Yeah, Grant is completely wrapped around my finger!” “You should see Elara Vance. She’s such a uptight bitch, always nagging him.” “Grant’s been over her for ages, he was just too ‘honorable’ to break it off.” “The night of the dinner? Yeah, I totally faked the pain intensity.” “I called him crying, and he came running, ditched his own wedding rehearsal. It was too easy.” “Who do you think he really cares about?” “Money? Duh. I told him my mom back home needed money for ‘treatments,’ and he wired me five grand without blinking.” “He said I’m his sister now, that he’ll give me an allowance every month.” “The designer bag? Piece of cake.” “I just told him all the girls at school have one and I felt so poor and pathetic.” “He had it shipped to me the next day.” “He’s such an idiot. He believes everything I say.” “Once I officially lock him down, Elara Vance won’t even be a memory.” The afternoon sun was streaming through the hallway windows. But I felt absolutely no warmth. It felt like the blood in my veins had turned to shards of ice. It turned out, I was the idiot. Grant Reed, the man I had loved for three years, The man I thought I would grow old with. In his mind, I was just a burden he didn’t know how to drop. My faith, my love, my future. It all shattered into dust in that corridor. I didn’t go in. I just quietly turned around and walked away. I went back to my office, opened my laptop, And started typing my resignation letter and request for transfer. It took me the entire afternoon to process the paperwork. The Hospital Administrator called me in, asking why I was abruptly quitting the military track. He said I was the most talented young surgeon they had, That in a few years, I’d be running a department. I just told him, “Family matters.” He sighed, realizing my mind was made up, and didn’t push. After work, I went back to the condo Grant and I shared. My parents had bought this place for us. Every inch of the interior design was mine. Our engagement photos were still hanging on the wall. In them, he was in full dress uniform, looking commanding and honorable. I was in a white dress, smiling like a fool who had everything. I stared at that photo for a long time. Then, I started packing. Grant hadn’t given me many gifts. He was always deployed or busy; we rarely saw each other. But I had cherished every little thing he’d ever bought me. Finally, my eyes landed on the ring on my finger. It wasn’t store-bought. He had forged it himself from a piece of brass scrap from the base. He had promised that when we officially married, he’d replace it with a “real” diamond. I slipped the brass ring off my finger. I put it in a box along with the few other sentimental items I had. Finally, I wrote a note. [Grant: We’re done. I hope you and Leo’s sister have a lovely life together.] I put the note, the ring, and a legal document officially terminating our domestic partnership application into a FedEx envelope. I addressed it to his commanding officer at the base. By the time I was finished, it was dark. I dragged my suitcase to the door. I took one last look at the place I once thought would be my ‘forever.’ Then, I closed the door, locked it, and walked away without looking back. I didn’t tell anyone where I was going. Not even my parents or Mark. I just sent them a group text saying I needed to disappear for a while to clear my head, and not to worry. Then, I turned off my phone, pulled my SIM card, and boarded a plane to the border. I knew an international medical relief organization out there that was desperate for trauma surgeons. I figured they needed me out there. A hell of a lot more than Grant Reed did.

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It was April Fool’s Day. To entertain their precious adopted daughter, my fiancé and my brother dressed me up like a human toy. The adopted girl, Chloe, ripped my dress to shreds and used a red lipstick to write “WHORE” across my face. When I didn’t react, she kicked me straight into the backyard septic tank. By the time they hauled me out, a crowd had gathered, everyone holding up their phones, recording, their laughter piercing my ears. My brother stood a hundred feet away, pinching his nose in disgust, refusing to come near me. Chloe smiled with absolute innocence. “Happy April Fool’s, Claire!” My fiancé, Liam, stepped in front of her, protecting her, his voice dismissive. “It was just a joke, Claire. Don’t be so dramatic.” He signaled to the landscapers, who turned a high-pressure power washer on me to “clean me off.” The force blasted me onto the ground. I turned purple from the freezing water, but I didn’t beg for mercy. Not once. Overnight, the video of me, stripped bare and humiliated, spread through our entire social circle. My brother, furious that I had “tarnished Chloe’s reputation,” kicked me out of the house. Liam publicly broke off our engagement. “The Sterling family cannot accept a woman with this kind of stain on her character.” I nodded to everything they said. I didn’t argue. They thought I was just acting, playing dead inside. They didn’t know that my mission deadline was only three days away. Looking at them now, I felt sick just being in the same zip code. Chapter 1 In the courtyard, my father swung his heavy leather belt, raining blows down on my back. “Shameless! Disgusting!” I didn’t explain. I just gritted my teeth and took it. Arguing only ever earned me a worse beating. I had only been back with my biological family for a few days when Chloe framed me for stealing her diamond necklace. My parents tore my room apart. My brother stripped my clothes off in front of everyone to search me. They found nothing. I thought I might get an apology. Instead, my brother backhanded me so hard he knocked a tooth loose. “You must have sold Chloe’s necklace! Where’s the money?!” My room was barely the size of a closet, and I didn’t even have a bank account to my name. When I tried to explain, he hit me harder, calling me an unrepentant thief. I huddled in the corner, getting kicked until I spit up blood. Suddenly, Chloe gasped. “Oh, I found it.” The diamond necklace gleamed in the sunlight, but it just made my eyes ache. I looked at my brother. There was no guilt on his face. He just said indifferently, “A little misunderstanding. Don’t take it personally.” “I’m Chloe’s brother. I trust her unconditionally.” Nathan knew he was Chloe’s brother, but he seemed to have forgotten that I was his actual blood sister. In the courtyard, my father’s belt kept falling. I was covered in bloody welts. Nathan stood to the side, not saying a single word to stop him. Even though he was the one who let Chloe humiliate me, who let the video be taken, he hated me for dragging down Chloe’s social standing. He threw my meager pile of clothes out past the front gates. He told me to get out. I agreed. But my father roared, “You think you’re going anywhere?! Haven’t you embarrassed us enough!” He ordered the servants to bring the belt for “family discipline.” After beating me for two hours, my mother frowned and stopped him. “Enough. Make her bang her head on the ground ninety-nine times and write a confession letter, and we’ll drop it.” My father threw the belt down, annoyed. “You’re just spoiling her!” Spoiling? I found that hilarious. By “bang her head,” my mother meant my forehead had to hit the concrete hard enough to make a sound, or it didn’t count. The “confession letter” had to be written in my own blood. Under ten thousand words, and it wasn’t considered “sincere.” I’d have to start over. But I didn’t make a sound. I slammed my head against the floor until I passed out, then got doused with ice water to wake up and keep going. The blood confession ended up being twenty thousand words. Every single word was abject, dragging myself through the dirt. I thought it was finally enough. Chloe covered her nose, taking a step back. “Nathan, it’s not that I don’t want Claire inside, it’s just… she smells terrible.” My brother lovingly tousled her hair, then shot me a look of pure disdain. “You don’t deserve the servant’s quarters. Go sleep with Brutus.” Brutus was Chloe’s pet ten-foot Burmese python. I am deathly afraid of snakes. I remembered the day the police brought me home. Chloe had looked just as disgusted then. But back then, Nathan hadn’t sent me to the snake pit. He just kicked me into the dog crate. The Great Dane’s crate was bigger than the room I eventually got. As long as Chloe didn’t give the command, the dog wouldn’t bite me. I could almost sleep there. The snake pit? Absolutely not. I fell to my knees before my parents, begging frantically. “Mom, Dad, if I smell, I can leave. I’ll go live in the dog crate again, please, just don’t put me in the pit.” For a second, there was a flicker of hesitation on my father’s face. He started to open his mouth. Nathan violently grabbed me by the collar. “Claire, stop acting like a victim!” “If it wasn’t for you, this family wouldn’t be a laughingstock! You should be grateful you have a place to sleep at all!” He began dragging me toward the reptile enclosure. I looked back at my father. He looked away. The stench in the pit almost made me vomit. The snake’s tongue flicked against my face. Just as I closed my eyes in absolute despair, The cold, mechanical voice of the System rang in my head. [Host, two days remaining until the mission deadline.] Chapter 2 I suddenly calmed down. I focused on my breathing. Two more days. I couldn’t give up. Three years ago, Chloe finished dinner and suddenly had terrible stomach pains. Tears in her eyes, she accused me of poisoning her food with laxatives. Before I could even process what she was saying, Nathan pried my mouth open and forced an entire bottle of industrial laxatives down my throat. I was in so much pain I passed out on the bathroom floor. No one cared. The whole family rushed Chloe to the hospital. As I lay dying, a mechanical voice echoed in my brain. [Host life signs hitting zero. Force-binding Revenge System.] [Current Task: Survive for three years.] [Success Reward: Pain Reflection, $100 Million cash.] [Failure Penalty: Soul Obliteration.] I didn’t know what a “System” was back then. I thought it was a hallucination before death. But when I woke up in the bathroom, the pain in my stomach was gone. I believed it. The System gave me a second chance at life. I was eighteen that year. I started valuing my life, becoming silent and submissive. I thought back to those survival shows I’d seen on TV. Forcing my terror down, I remained perfectly still. The massive python slithered past me. It felt cold and terrifying. Outside the thick glass enclosure, Chloe was holding hands with Liam, smiling sweetly. “Liam, your fiancée smells, so they moved her to the snake pit.” “Do you feel bad for her?” Liam swept a casual glance over me. “Don’t talk nonsense. I don’t have a fiancée. The engagement was called off ages ago.” Even now, my heart twisted with a sharp pain. Liam was different from my family. He was my childhood sweetheart from the orphanage. When he first came to the orphanage, his leg was broken, and no one wanted to adopt him. I played the fool, actively staying behind at the orphanage to be with him. It was hard for him to move around, so I fought the other kids for his food. I stood up for him. One winter, some older kids stole his crutches to use for firewood. I jumped in to protect him. They tied me up and hung me upside down from a tree. They packed snowballs until they were hard as ice, using me for target practice. They broke my nose, and blood splashed everywhere in the snow. Liam held me, freezing, and cried all night. He said, Claire, when I grow up, I’ll protect you. I laughed dizzily, believing him. Later, when the police brought me back to my biological family, the first thing I did was help Liam find his own family. It turned out Liam was an illegitimate son, Intentionally abandoned by the powerful Sterling family. To help him get back into his family, I proposed a strategic alliance through marriage. My brother called me a slut, saying I was already obsessed with men the moment I returned. I knelt in the courtyard for seven days, without food or water, until the calluses on my knees bled, just to get that engagement contract. It wasn’t that the Sterlings were a bad match; my parents just wanted me to marry higher, to be a stepping stone for Chloe’s social climb. The day I went to the orphanage to pick Liam up, his eyes were red. He hugged me tight, swearing to the heavens, “Claire, once I have a solid footing in the Sterling family, I’m going to marry you!” But he didn’t marry me. He personally tore up our wedding contract. He threw me to Chloe to be humiliated. When did he change? Maybe it was the first time Chloe called him “Liam.” She was paler than me, cleaner than me, better at making people happy. She would hold Liam’s arm and say, “Liam, your engagement to Claire was forced, wasn’t it?” Liam never denied it. Maybe it was at some corporate dinner where I drank until my stomach bled, trying to protect him from predatory clients, collapsing on the floor, unable to get up. Liam frowned and said, “Claire, you look truly pathetic like this.” I brought up marriage. I brought up rings, a wedding. He was annoyed. He casually picked some wild grass from the roadside, wrapping a few loops around my finger. Then, he turned around and spent a fortune at an auction to buy a gemstone for Chloe, personally designing a custom ring for her. I asked him, “Liam, do you still remember the promise you made back at the orphanage?” He laughed. That laugh contained a mockery I had never seen before. “Claire, are you going to bring up the orphanage every single day? It’s annoying.” “Yes, you helped me. But you’ve used that debt to bind me for so many years. Enough is enough.” I was binding him? I knelt until my knees were ruined, went on a hunger strike, and fought with everything I had to secure his future. He said, “Claire, stop acting. You wanted this alliance because you’re the least loved daughter in this family.” “You couldn’t find a husband, so you had to cling to me?” “You’re that desperate for a man?” At that moment, I felt something inside me shatter completely. Chloe’s laughter pulled me from my memories. “Liam, don’t be so heartless. Claire was your fiancée for many years, after all.” Liam sneered, “Fiancée? A gold-digger who throws herself at men doesn’t deserve the title.” I took a deep breath and silently asked the System, “Does betrayal also get reflected as pain?” Chapter 3 [Naturally. Any pain inflicted upon the Host will be reflected back.] [The prerequisite is surviving until the final moment.] Chloe stood on her tiptoes, peering through the glass window at me, Looking slightly annoyed. “This is boring. She’s not moving at all, like a dead person.” “My Brutus doesn’t like dead things.” She pulled on Liam’s arm. “Liam, get her out of there. I want to see her cry.” A flicker of hesitation passed through Liam’s eyes, but he quickly agreed. He dragged me out. The sunlight was so bright it stung my eyes. “Chloe wants you to cry.” His voice came from above me, devoid of any warmth. I didn’t move. Chloe picked up a piece of sandpaper from somewhere and began roughly scrubbing it against my face, Smiling with a terrifying innocence. “Does it hurt, Claire? Will hurting you make you cry?” The sandpaper left bloody streaks on my face, but my tears had dried up long ago. I couldn’t shed a single drop. Liam lost his patience and kicked me hard in the shoulder. I fell backward, my head slamming against the concrete ground. My vision blurred. “Cry!” he commanded, looking down at me. When I didn’t react, he kicked me again, harder this time. The force was so great I started dry heaving. I didn’t want to die, but I couldn’t cry. Slowly, I crawled back up to my knees, groveling. Then, I banged my forehead against the floor. “I’m sorry.” Chloe was stunned for a second, then she laughed. “What is she doing? What is she apologizing for?” “Claire is just like that.” A voice came from the side. It was my brother, Nathan. I didn’t know when he had arrived. Standing a few feet away, his face wore that familiar look of utter disgust. “That’s how she survives in this family.” “Hit her, and she kneels. Scream at her, and she grovels. Like a dog.” Chloe tilted her head and sneered. “Really? Then make her bark like a dog.” Nathan looked at me, expressionless. “Did you hear him? Chloe wants you to bark.” I was kneeling on the ground. In the sunlight, the three of them looked like they were framed in gold, While I was in the shadows, smelling of filth. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. When Chloe’s smile faded, Nathan’s expression turned lethal. He grabbed a handful of my hair, ripping me upward. “Bark!” The pain in my scalp was searing. I had to stand on my tip-toes to keep my hair from being ripped out. I looked at him. He was my blood brother. Years ago, when the human trafficker grabbed him, I was the one who stood in front of him, hugging the trafficker’s leg, telling him to run. The trafficker, furious, had thrown me seven feet in the air, letting me slam against the ground. I lay in a ditch for two months, nearly dying. “Woof. Woof.” My voice was tiny, barely audible. Chloe wasn’t satisfied. “That sounds nothing like a dog. Obviously, it’s because she doesn’t have a tail.” She asked Liam to fetch her some rope. Nathan immediately understood. He tied one end around my waist and handed the other end to Chloe. “Crawl! Wherever Chloe wants you to crawl, you crawl.” I didn’t move. He kicked me in the knee, forcing me down flat on the ground. I pushed against the concrete with my hands and began to crawl. Small stones dug into my knees. Cold sweat beaded on my forehead from the pain. “Slower,” Liam said from behind. “Don’t let Chloe trip.” Chloe was laughing brightly, Pulling me as I crawled through mud puddles and up stone steps. Cold sweat slid down my face. My knees were shaking uncontrollably. As we created some distance between us and Liam and Nathan. Chloe suddenly leaned down, whispering in my ear. “Claire, I really hate you. I wish you were dead.” “Years ago, you escaped from my house and gave evidence to the police, which got my dad arrested and sentenced to life without parole.” My pupils violently contracted. That human trafficker had kept over twenty children locked in a basement. I personally witnessed him beat a young boy to death, simply because the boy wouldn’t stop crying at night. After beating him to death, he smiled at us and said, “Whoever cries next gets to go join him.” The day I escaped, he found me. He chased me with a knife for two blocks. I jumped into a river. He stood on the bank throwing rocks at me, cracking my head open. I barely survived. And my parents actually adopted his daughter. My brother treated her like royalty. My fiancé betrayed his vows for her. Chloe was still going. “I’m not afraid of you telling anyone. No one will believe you. I’m just saying this to mess with you.” Her laughter was arrogant and unhinged. I broke. I surged upward, Violently ripping the rope from her hand. I wrapped it around her neck, pulling tight. “Your father was a murderer!” My eyes burned with unshed tears. “That boy was only six years old!” Chloe just wanted to provoke me; she hadn’t expected me to fight back. Her face turned a bright, choking red. She clawed at the air frantically. “Claire!” A furious roar came from behind me. Before I could even turn around, I was violently tackled. I slammed against the ground. Liam stomped his boot directly onto my chest, Her force so strong it felt like my ribcage was about to crush. His eyes were cold and homicidal. “You’re insane!” “Her father is a human trafficker…” I opened my mouth to explain. SLAP! A hand slammed across my face. My head snapped to the side. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. Nathan looked at me with pure disdain. “Before we adopted Chloe, I personally checked her background. It was clean.” “If you’re going to make something up, at least make it sound plausible.” Clean? That’s impossible. If Chloe wasn’t truly the trafficker’s daughter, she wouldn’t know about my escape, and she certainly wouldn’t know about the police testimony. “It’s not made up,” I screamed, raw with desperation. “Go check. Six years ago, the trafficker named Jiang who was convicted…” “Claire,” Liam’s boot pressed down harder on my chest. “I used to just think you had no shame. Now I see you’re as stupid as you are malicious.” Chloe rubbed her slightly reddened neck, looking incredibly pitiful. “If you guys hadn’t arrived just in time, I would have been killed by Claire.” She cried large, dramatic tears as she spoke, Making Nathan’s heart ache for her even more. He snapped. He dragged me to a far corner of the backyard. There was a large wooden board there, completely covered in rusty nails. It was an old security measure before they installed an electric fence, discarded and forgotten. Thousands of rusty nails, packed tight. “Throw her on it.” Before I could even react, Nathan and Liam picked me up and threw me onto the nail board. The moment the rusty metal pierced my flesh, my body violently convulsed, and I screamed in pure agony. Blood leaked from thousands of small puncture wounds, quickly staining the wood beneath me. I struggled, but the barbs on the rusty nails hooked into my flesh, ripping me further. The pain was so white-hot I became dizzy. “Think about what you’ve done!” Nathan spat the words at me, then he and the others walked away. I didn’t dare move. One tiny movement, and the nails would push deeper, more blood would flow. I regretted it… but it was too late. The sun set. My eyelids grew heavier and heavier. My breathing grew shallower and shallower. The System’s voice sounded distant, like it was coming from another world. [Host life signs hitting critical zero…] [Final countdown beginning…] Chapter 4 Finally, at that sound: [Congratulations, Host. Three-year period completed. Mission reward is calculating…] I smiled and closed my eyes. Three days later. My body was discovered by a neighbor. He was out walking his dog in the early morning, and the dog squeezed through a hole in the backyard fence. The family was gone. The whole family had gone on an international vacation, completely forgetting about me. After a deafening scream, the neighbor called the police. Forensics arrived, and the scene was cordoned off. Given the prominent nature of the family, the media arrived almost instantly. Within hours, the news spread, and the estate was surrounded by a wall of cameras. The coroner peeled open my eyelid. “The victim appears to be between twenty and twenty-two years old. Time of death is approximately seventy-two hours ago.” “Livor mortis is fixed. Corneas are moderately cloudy…” He paused as he looked at the wooden board beneath me, the blood now dried and black. As he lifted me, he sucked in a sharp breath. The back of my body was fused to thousands of rusty nails. On the surface, it looked like I bled to death. But the coroner didn’t list a cause yet. He carefully unzipped the filthy, stiff old jacket I was wearing. The entire scene fell into a suffocating silence. Someone turned away, unable to look. Someone openly sobbed. On that body, there wasn’t a single patch of intact skin. Whip welts, burn scars, needle punctures… layered one on top of the other, old scars covering new wounds. Some scars were already white and faded, old injuries from years ago. Some were covered in dark red scabs, fresh from the last few days. And some were completely raw and open, pus and fluid leaking from pink, exposed flesh. The lead detective went pale, his eyes turning red. “What kind of deep-seated hatred is this?!” The coroner didn’t answer. He carefully examined my wrist. There was a very deep scar there, running from the inner wrist all the way up my forearm. It looked like an ugly, oversized centipede. “A suicide attempt. At least three years ago.” The detective stared at the scar, confused. When most people try to commit suicide, they cut across the wrist. He had never seen such a bizarre, deep, longitudinal slash. It looked… almost like it was done just to bleed me out. The crime scene investigators walked out of the mansion, their faces grim. There was only one servant in the house. She was shaking, barely coherent. “I only clean inside. I never go to the backyard. I don’t know anything.” The detective led her over to identify the body. She gasped, “Isn’t this the eldest daughter? She didn’t go on the vacation?” Then, as if remembering something, she hung her head. “Mrs. Miller said the eldest daughter grew up in an orphanage, that she had no manners, and told me to ignore her…” “I don’t know anything.” She pointed down the dark hallway. “The eldest daughter’s room is at the very end.” The investigators followed the detective to the end of the hall, to a tight, wooden door. Pushing it open, a stench of mold mixed with dried blood hit them. The room was maybe fifty square feet. No windows. It contained a bare mattress, a plastic bucket, and a ragged old duffel bag in the corner. In the corner of the wall, there were several lines of dried text. Written in blood. [I didn’t steal the necklace…] [I didn’t poison the food…] … [I’m not dirty…] … [I’m your real daughter…] The detective stood before that wall for a very long time, unmoving. An investigator stepped up behind him and said softly, [We took a sample of the dried blood. It matches the victim’s DNA.] The detective nodded. He saw the corner of the duffel bag and reached down to open it. Inside was a massive stack of papers. All shapes and sizes, torn from notebooks, scraps of construction paper, old receipts. Every single inch was covered in text, packed tight, written in red ink. Flipping through them, one by one. Three years. Forty-seven distinct letters of confession. The signature at the bottom of every single one was Claire. [Written in blood,] The investigator’s voice was dry. [Preliminary tests confirm positive for hemoglobin.] The detective didn’t say anything. He understood the meaning of the ugly centipede scar on my forearm now. The case exploded. A massive alert was put out at all ports of entry for the family, waiting for them to return. A week later, the detective saw the family at the airport. The middle-aged man wore a custom-tailored designer coat and a Patek Philippe watch. The woman beside him was impeccably made up, looking arrogant. The young woman was dressed in high-end streetwear, holding nothing, While all her luggage was loaded onto the back of the young man behind her. The detective walked up to them, flashing his badge. [Arthur Miller?] The middle-aged man turned, looking him up and down. [What is it?] [Your daughter, Claire, died ten days ago.] Arthur froze. [What did you say?] His wife reacted first, her voice shrill, [Who did you say died?] [Claire,] The detective repeated, Looking at them. [The body was discovered a week ago.] Nathan stepped forward, a cruel smile on his lips. [You think you can just show up and scare us? Pathetic.] [She got scratched by a few nails and now she’s dead?] [Get out of my way before I file a complaint for impersonating a police officer.] The detective fought back his fury. [Detective Sean Evans, badge number 098230. You can verify that with dispatch.] [A few nails? There were hundreds of nails on that board!] [They were all covered in rust! Have you never heard of tetanus?! Did you not realize it could kill someone!] [But Claire didn’t die from tetanus, or from bleeding out. The autopsy report says the cause of death was systemic multi-organ failure.] [She died from long-term, systematic abuse at your hands!] The family fell silent. A flicker of hesitation crossed Nathan’s eyes, but he still didn’t fully believe it. Until the detective spoke again. [The body is at the morgue. We need you to identify her.] The mother swayed, collapsing into Arthur’s arms, her hands and feet turning to ice. Nathan’s face went white for a split second, Only Chloe, hidden behind her sunglasses, had an expression that couldn’t be read.

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Everyone in our family could see the glowing countdown timer hovering above my older sister’s head. They all knew she was destined to die on her sixteenth birthday. Because of this, my sister became the most precious, fragile thing in our house. The best snacks were hers. The prettiest dresses were hers. Even our parents’ bedtime stories belonged exclusively to her. I ached for her, but I also bitterly envied the absolute favoritism she received. Until the day I finally suffered through to her sixteenth birthday. Terrified that I would throw a tantrum and ruin her final day, my parents locked me in the dusty storage closet. I was burning up with a high fever. I banged weakly on the door, terrified. “Mom, let me out… I have a fever. My head hurts so much…” But Mom just gritted her teeth on the other side. “Enough! Your sister is going to die after today! Can’t you just hold it in for once?” “But it hurts…” Gradually, the footsteps outside faded away, and my consciousness began to blur… 1. My body suddenly felt incredibly light. I drifted right through the old, scratched wooden door and saw the warm, golden light of the living room. My parents were sitting tightly on either side of my sister on the sofa. Mom was gently rubbing her back, while Dad kept his head down, his shoulders shaking slightly. My sister, Stella, was wearing her brand-new dress—the only new piece of clothing bought this year. It was a pale blue, embroidered with tiny, delicate stars. Under the living room lights, her face looked exceptionally pale, her lips completely devoid of color. “Mom, Dad… is Chloe really okay?” Stella’s voice was soft, thick with a congested sniffle. “I heard her crying that her head hurt…” “Don’t worry about her.” Mom chimed in quickly, reaching out to cup Stella’s cheek with heartbreaking tenderness, gently brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead. “She doesn’t have a fever. She’s just faking it for attention. You only have one day left to…” Mom couldn’t finish the sentence. She choked on a sob, her eyes turning red. “Just focus on your birthday tomorrow. Don’t let her ruin your mood.” Stella pressed her lips together and didn’t say anything else, but the furrow in her brow deepened. I knew she always felt guilty when it came to me. For as long as I could remember, every ounce of love and preference in this house had been piled onto her. I had to watch from the sidelines just to get a warm bowl of soup, let alone new clothes or toys. But Stella would always sneak her snacks into my pockets. She would alter the new dresses our parents bought her so they would fit me. Whenever Mom and Dad scolded me, she was always the first one to stand in front of me and shield me. She always said, “Chloe, I’m so sorry. It’s because of me that you’re always getting the short end of the stick.” But our parents didn’t see it that way. Mom sighed, looking at Stella with overwhelming pity. “Stop defending her. Ever since she was old enough to understand, that girl has been jealous of you. She can’t stand to see you happy.” “Did you forget what happened on your fourteenth birthday?” Stella’s fourteenth birthday was the first time I truly comprehended that my sister was going to die. That day, my parents actually went out and bought a beautiful buttercream cake, placing fourteen thin candles on top. Mom carefully lit the candles, while Dad held up his battered old digital camera, desperate to capture one of the very few birthdays his eldest daughter had left. I hid behind the door frame, watching the candlelight flicker across Stella’s face. I watched her close her eyes to make a wish, and I watched the unshed tears gleaming in my parents’ eyes. Then, I charged out. I don’t know what I was thinking. Maybe it was jealousy. Maybe it was the absolute, crushing inability to accept that the sister who was always so gentle to me was going to leave forever. I shoved the table. The cake flipped over, splattering frosting all over the hardwood. The candles rolled into the corner and quickly extinguished. “I don’t want to see you celebrate her birthday!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, acting exactly like the obnoxious, hateful brat they always thought I was. I still remember the way my parents looked at me in that moment. When Dad’s heavy hand struck across my face, I didn’t dodge. One slap. Two. Three… Mom just stood to the side, sobbing, but she didn’t try to stop him. It was Stella who threw herself over me, using her frail, thin body to shield me from the blows. “Stop hitting her, Dad! Please stop!” Her voice was trembling violently, but she held me incredibly tight. “It’s my fault. It’s all my fault…” That night, Stella snuck into my room and pressed a half-eaten piece of candy into my palm. There was a stark red scratch on her wrist where she had hit the edge of a chair while protecting me. “Chloe, I’m sorry.” She whispered, her fingers feather-light against my swollen, bruised cheek. “I’m going away very soon. After I’m gone… nobody will fight you for anything ever again.” Back in the living room, Mom lovingly stroked Stella’s face. “Stella, just ignore her.” Mom’s voice was heavy with exhaustion. “That child has been jealous of you since the day she learned to walk. You know this.” I hovered in the air, stunned. It was true. I was jealous of my sister. I was jealous that she had all the love. I was jealous of her new dresses. I was jealous that when she got sick, Mom would stay awake by her bedside all night. I was jealous that even with only twenty-four hours left to live, she was still the absolute center of our parents’ universe. I drifted toward Stella, trying to grab her hand. I wanted to tell her that I really did have a fever. I wanted to tell her that my head hurt so badly it felt like it was splitting open. But my hand passed right through her arm, like sweeping through a cloud of morning mist. I froze in mid-air, staring blankly at my own translucent fingers. Slowly, I turned around and looked back at the heavy wooden door of the storage closet. A faint sliver of light was bleeding out from beneath the crack. I drifted over, phasing effortlessly through the solid wood. Inside, curled up in a tiny ball amidst piles of old cardboard boxes, was my body. I was already dead. Before my sister’s countdown timer could reach zero, my own expiration date had arrived first. 2. Memories flooded my mind like a rising tide, carrying the scent of old dust. When I was much younger, around five or six, there were times when I genuinely hated my sister. If there was only one piece of candy in the house, it was Stella’s. If there was only one apple, it would be cut in two. The large half went to Stella. The small sliver went to me. New clothes were always bought for Stella first. I wore her hand-me-downs, patched over and over again. Even the bedtime stories belonged to her. Mom’s voice was so incredibly soothing. she would read The Little Prince, or Hans Christian Andersen’s fairy tales—stories about stars, moons, and magical worlds. But she only ever read those stories to Stella. I would secretly crouch outside the cracked bedroom door, listening as Mom whispered, “Stella, what do you want to hear tonight?” “I want to hear The Little Mermaid,” Stella would say. And Mom would begin to read, her voice flowing like a gentle stream in the night. I would sit in the dark hallway, hugging my knees tight against my chest, listening to those beautiful sentences while my heart squeezed painfully. Why couldn’t she read them to me, too? During the summer I turned seven, a neighbor brought over a whole roasted chicken. Mom carved it up, placing the two golden, crispy drumsticks right on top of the serving platter. At the dinner table, Mom carefully picked up both drumsticks and placed them onto Stella’s plate. “Eat up, Stella. You need to build your strength.” I looked down at my own plate, which held nothing but plain white rice and some boiled green beans. The tears suddenly spilled over. “Why does she get both drumsticks?!” “I want some! I want a drumstick too!” Dad slammed his fork violently onto the table. “Chloe Harper! Why are you always so selfish?!” He shot up from his chair, his face dark with fury. “Do you not know your sister is sick?! Do you not know that she…” He couldn’t finish the sentence. I didn’t know. All I knew was that Stella was always very pale. Sometimes she coughed a lot, and Mom and Dad always looked at her with eyes full of unbearable grief. But I had no idea what it actually meant. “It’s not fair! Why does she get everything?!” I sobbed, jumping down from my chair and pointing a shaking finger at Stella across the table. “Why don’t you just die?! Give me my stuff back!” Stella’s tears instantly spilled over, huge, heavy drops splashing into her dinner bowl. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Mom abruptly stood up and delivered a stinging slap across my face. It was the hardest I had ever been hit. Stella lunged forward to protect me, but Mom held her back. “Let her learn her lesson! Let her learn what words she can and cannot say in this house!” The very next day, I was hiding near the kitchen when I overheard my parents whispering. “Only nine years left.” Mom’s voice was choked with sobs. “I know.” Dad’s voice was raw and hoarse. “Nine years… we only have nine years left with her…” That was the moment I finally understood. Stella was actually going to die. That invisible, floating string of numbers above her head—the ones no one else outside the family could see—was a countdown to the end of her life. Back in the living room, my parents, with red, swollen eyes, carefully escorted Stella back to her bedroom to rest. Watching them, my chest suddenly felt incredibly tight and sour. “Should we… maybe we should let Chloe out now.” Dad suggested softly. Mom was quiet for a long time. “Let her stay in there a little longer.” Mom finally spoke, her voice so utterly exhausted it sounded like she had been drained of her life force. “At least… at least let Stella have one perfect, peaceful birthday. Just for today. It’s her very last day.” I watched as Mom raised a hand to wipe her eyes. “Chloe will understand when she’s older.” She sounded like she was desperately trying to convince herself. “Once Stella is gone… we’ll make it up to her. I promise we will make it up to her.” Dad didn’t argue. He just walked into the kitchen, grabbed a small dinner roll from the pantry, and walked slowly toward the storage closet. 3. “Chloe.” He spoke softly to the closed door. “Dad brought you some bread. Eat a little something. Don’t starve yourself.” I drifted over and crouched down to look at him. His eyes were bloodshot. The wrinkles around his eyes seemed so much deeper than they did last year, and there was a dusting of gray at his temples. He was only forty years old, but he looked like a man in his fifties. “Dad, I’m right here. I’m dead. Will you please open the door and look at me?” “Chloe?” He called out again. I reached out to touch his cheek, but my fingers phased right through him. “Sigh.” Dad let out a heavy breath and stood up, looking disappointed. “This kid… she’s still throwing a tantrum.” He nudged the dinner roll a little closer to the crack under the door. “Just stay in there and behave. Stop causing trouble. Once your sister is gone… Dad promises he will make everything up to you.” He never realized I was there. I watched his retreating back and whispered, “It’s okay, Dad. You don’t have to make it up to me anymore.” You will never have the chance to. After Dad left, the hallway fell back into heavy silence. A faint rustling came from the living room. Mom stepped out of Stella’s room, gently pulled the door shut behind her, and stood in the hallway, staring blankly into space. She looked at the door to the storage closet. Her lips were pressed tightly together, a clear look of internal struggle on her face. Finally, she walked over and crouched down in the exact spot Dad had just been. “Chloe.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “Please don’t be mad at Mom, okay?” “Mom knows it’s not fair to you.” She continued, her fingers absentmindedly picking at a splinter on the door frame. “But your sister only has one day left. Can’t you just let her have this? Let her leave us with a smile on her face, please?” I drifted right in front of her. I could see the moisture gathering in the corners of her eyes. She quickly wiped it away, moving fast, as if terrified someone might catch her crying for me. “Once your sister is gone, Mom will make your favorite pot roast. A massive plate, all just for you.” Her voice grew softer and softer, eventually turning into a frantic, desperate murmur. “I’ll buy you new dresses. The ones with the pretty lace ribbons you always stare at in the store windows. I’ll take you to the amusement park. We’ll ride the carousel, and the roller coasters… You told me all the kids in your class have been except you, right?” The tears finally spilled over, splashing onto the faded linoleum floor of the hallway, leaving tiny, dark stains. “Mom promises you. I promise you everything… So please, just for today. Just for this one day, stop fighting me, okay?” I reached out, desperately wanting to wipe her tears away. She waited in silence for a few minutes. From inside the closet, there was no sound. The sorrow on Mom’s face slowly began to curdle into irritation. She abruptly stood up, stumbling slightly because she moved too fast. “This child… she is just so incredibly selfish!” She muttered bitterly, though her voice still carried a thick trace of a sob. “She has absolutely no empathy for her parents! I wasted my life raising you!” She spun around and walked briskly away, her posture rigid with anger. Evening approached, and the sky began to darken. Mom walked out of the kitchen carrying a small basket filled with crepe paper, scissors, and a “Happy Birthday” banner. She was getting ready to decorate for Stella’s final celebration. Just as she reached the living room, the doorbell rang. It was Grandma Eleanor. Grandma stood on the porch holding a bulging canvas tote bag. When she saw Mom, she forced a strained, exhausted smile. “Mom, what are you doing here?” Mom looked surprised, quickly stepping aside to let her in. “I came to see Stella.” Grandma’s voice was hoarse. She set the heavy tote bag on the dining table and began pulling out fresh apples and bakery pastries. “Tomorrow is the child’s birthday. I… I had to come see her.” “Stella is resting in her room right now.” Mom said, taking the items from Grandma’s hands. “Please, sit down. I’ll go wake her up.” “No, no, let her sleep.” Grandma sat heavily on the sofa. Her sharp eyes swept across the living room, and her brow furrowed slightly. “Where’s Chloe? Why don’t I see Chloe?” 4. Mom’s face instantly went pale. “She… she’s in her room doing homework.” Mom avoided Grandma’s piercing gaze, looking down and nervously organizing the decorations in her basket. Grandma didn’t say a word. She just stared at her. “Homework?” “Let me go check on her.” “Mom!” Mom jumped up in a panic. “Chloe is… she’s throwing a tantrum. I put her in the storage closet for a time-out so she can reflect on her behavior.” Grandma froze completely. “What did you just say?” She asked, enunciating every single syllable. “You locked Chloe in the storage closet?!” “You know tomorrow is Stella’s…” Mom’s voice shrank until it was practically inaudible. The color drained from Grandma’s face, replaced by a dark, terrifying fury. She stood up so fast she swayed on her feet. Mom reached out to steady her, but Grandma violently shoved her hand away. “Sarah Harper!” Grandma’s voice shook with rage. “Chloe is your daughter too!” Mom opened her mouth to argue, but Grandma cut her off effortlessly. “Yes, I know Stella drew a tragic hand in life! I know she was born with that cursed countdown timer over her head! I know you both love her to death and want to give her the absolute best so she can pass away happy!” Grandma’s voice rose to a shout, tears pooling in her weathered eyes. “But what about Chloe?! Has her life not been tragic too?! From the day she was born, what has she ever actually received?! Stella’s discarded, worn-out clothes! Stella’s leftovers! Even her parents’ love had to be sacrificed so Stella could have it all!” “Mom, I didn’t…” Mom tried to defend herself, but her voice was weak and hollow. “Both of them are good girls. They are both such wonderful, sweet girls…” Grandma choked on a sob. “But you two? As parents? Do you not realize the massive, unforgivable debt you owe Chloe?! Does she not deserve even a fraction of your love?!” Mom collapsed into a dining chair, burying her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking violently. “And now, you won’t even let the two sisters see each other one last time?” Grandma’s voice was raw and hoarse. “Stella is going to… she’s going to leave us tomorrow. Chloe is her only sister! She is the little sister Stella spent her entire life trying to protect! How is Stella supposed to cross over peacefully?! Are you going to force her to die with regrets?!” “I… I didn’t…” Mom’s broken sobs leaked through her fingers. “I just wanted Stella to be happy for her last 24 hours. I didn’t want Chloe to throw a fit and ruin it for her…” The night grew deep. The door to Stella’s bedroom remained tightly shut. “Go to bed.” Grandma finally said, her voice exhausted and raspy. “Tomorrow… we have to be up early tomorrow.” Mom shifted in her chair, looking like she wanted to say something, but eventually just shook her head. “I can’t sleep.” Dad hadn’t moved from the armchair in the corner. Grandma sighed. She didn’t try to persuade them anymore. She stood up, walked over to the door of the storage closet, crouched down, and whispered gently into the crack beneath the door: “Chloe, Grandma is right here with you. Don’t be afraid.” My tears fell all over again. The minutes ticked by. The candles in the living room burned down to nothing, plunging the house into darkness. Outside the window, the sky slowly began to lighten, shifting from pitch black, to deep indigo, to a pale, misty gray. The very first ray of morning sunlight pierced the glass, landing on the scuffed hardwood floor, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. Grandma stood up and walked to Stella’s bedroom door. She raised her hand to knock, but her fist hovered in mid-air. She hesitated for a long time. Finally, she said softly: “Stella. It’s time to wake up.” A faint rustling sound came from inside the room. The door slowly creaked open. “Grandma, Mom, Dad,” Stella said softly, a faint, tired smile on her lips. Mom practically launched herself out of her chair, sprinting across the room and crushing Stella in a desperate, suffocating hug, as if trying to fuse their bodies together. Dad walked over, his hands trembling violently, and gently stroked the top of Stella’s head. “Stella…” Mom’s voice was completely shattered. “I’m okay, Mom.” Stella said gently, patting Mom’s back. “I’m really okay.” Grandma stood to the side, watching quietly. She looked at Stella for a long time. Then, realizing something, she whipped her head around to look at the storage closet. “Chloe!” Her voice cut sharply through the quiet morning air. “Quick! Let Chloe out!” My parents finally remembered me, locked away in the dark. They broke into relieved, tearful laughter, nodding frantically. “Yes, yes, of course! Let Chloe out! Chloe is still in the closet!” “Your sister survived! This is a miracle!” Mom grabbed Stella’s hand, and Dad led the way. The family of three rushed toward the storage closet, their faces glowing with absolute joy. But as Dad grabbed the handle and pushed the door open, the color instantly drained from his face. He violently yanked his hand back as if he had been burned, muttering in horror: “Something’s wrong. Something is wrong!”

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My boyfriend, Liam Sterling, was hailed by the media as the “God of the Ice.” As his assistant coach, I had been by his side from his days as an unknown rookie to his meteoric rise to superstardom. He once promised me that the moment he secured a Grand Slam, he would retire and we would finally get married. But five years passed. He remained one medal short, and our engagement was delayed over and over again. Until his very last race before retirement. I went to the locker room to swap out his skate blades, only to hear the unmistakable, heavy breathing of a couple hooking up in the bathroom stall. “Mia, you’re making my knees weak with just one kiss. You really are a little succubus.” “You threw away so many races for this little succubus, Liam. You better make sure you lose this one too. I’ll give you a real reward tonight.” Liam laughed, agreeing easily, his arms clearly wrapped tight around her waist. “We have time. Let’s go another round.” I stood outside the stall door. The razor-sharp edge of the spare ice blade sliced into my palm, drawing blood. Loving someone for five years, only to realize they are rotten to the core… so this is what it feels like. I turned around and walked out of the locker room. The exact moment Liam Sterling officially announced his retirement, I publicly, unequivocally blew the whistle on his five-year career of match-fixing. I stood outside the stadium, taking several deep breaths. The freezing wind rushed down my throat, finally calming the boiling rage in my chest. My phone rang. It was the bridal boutique. “Hi, Ms. Hayes! Just calling for a final confirmation—your wedding date is still the 8th of next month, correct? We’re ready to send the invitations to the printer.” A massive roar erupted from the stadium behind me. I turned my head and looked at the giant jumbotron displaying the final rankings for the Men’s Speed Skating Championship. Fourth place: Liam Sterling. He missed the bronze by exactly 0.1 seconds. Exactly as planned. I let out a bitter, cynical laugh, speaking directly into the phone: “The wedding is canceled. You don’t need to print them.” When I walked back into the stadium tunnels, Liam ran up to me, drenched in sweat. He pulled me into a crushing hug, his voice dripping with fake, manufactured guilt. “I’m so sorry, Evelyn. I swear I gave it everything I had. If I had just been a fraction of a second faster…” I forcefully shoved him away. Meeting his confused, slightly panicked eyes, I spoke with absolute, freezing calm. “It doesn’t matter.” “I’ve already canceled the wedding. We’re done.” He stared at me in pure shock, his voice spiking an octave in defensive anger. “I can’t control whether I win or lose! Do you think I’m not devastated right now?! You’re my fiancée! Instead of comforting me, you’re breaking up with me?! Evelyn, do you have no heart?!” I suddenly thought back to five years ago. Liam had absolutely crushed the competition at the Winter Olympics, taking home his first gold medal and becoming an overnight sensation. In front of a wall of flashing cameras, he wildly, ecstatically announced our relationship to the world, swearing that the moment he secured a Grand Slam, he would retire and marry me. Over the next three years, he shattered record after record, hailed as a once-in-a-century speed skating prodigy. Just as everyone assumed he was about to become the youngest Grand Slam champion in history, he hit a catastrophic, inexplicable slump. He lost race after race. That final gold medal… He dragged it out for two entire years, intentionally throwing eighteen separate competitions. Just last night, before we went to sleep, he was still enthusiastically looking at wedding floral arrangements with me, debating whether we should walk down the aisle to Ed Sheeran or John Legend. And like a complete idiot, I actually thought he had finally found his rhythm again. “Alright then. Let’s go to the courthouse right now and sign the papers. Do you have the guts?” Liam instinctively frowned, stepping back. “I told you I’m going to marry you! Why are you always pushing me?! You’ve waited five years, can’t you just wait a little longer?!” Before the words fully left his mouth, Mia Foster sauntered over and possessively linked her arm through his. “Evelyn, you are so incredibly unsupportive. Liam has sacrificed his entire youth for speed skating, and the second he retires, you’re trying to force him into a shotgun wedding?” I let out a cold, sharp laugh. “Did he sacrifice his youth for speed skating, or did he sacrifice it for you? Do I really need to spell it out?” Mia waved her hands in mock innocence, but her eyes were gleaming with toxic, triumphant vanity. “You can’t just make up lies like that! Liam and I are completely platonic! If he hadn’t sponsored my education, I never would have made it out of my hometown. I’ve always looked up to him as my savior!” “If you’re so insecure about me being near him, fine, I’ll leave! Don’t ruin your relationship over me! Or, if you need to vent, you can hit me! I promise I won’t fight back!” She grabbed my hand and forcefully dragged it toward her own face, trying to stage a slap. Just as my hand was inches from her cheek, Liam violently smacked me across the face. “Evelyn, that is ENOUGH! What right do you have to complain?!” “So what if I lost?! Who can guarantee they’ll win first place forever?! Just because I didn’t get the gold, you’re canceling the wedding?! You are a materialistic, gold-digging bitch!” Chapter 2 Right at that exact moment, the bronze medalist walked past us, his medal hanging heavily around his neck. He flashed Liam a respectful, albeit confused, salute and spoke in heavily accented English. “Man, you really are a god. Before the race, when you said you were going to ‘gift’ me the bronze, I thought you were just trash-talking! I didn’t expect you to actually yield an entire body length at the finish line!” The self-righteous fury on Liam’s face instantly shattered, freezing into sheer, suffocating panic. Meeting my dead, icy stare, he stammered, desperately trying to backtrack. “No, that’s not… I didn’t let him…” But I was entirely done listening to his garbage. I turned on my heel and walked away. Liam tried to chase after me, but Mia suddenly let out a dramatic, high-pitched gasp. “Liam! Look, the press is swarming! We just lost the race, let’s go out the back and lay low for a bit!” The second I got into a cab, my phone buzzed with a text from Liam. [Go home and wait for me. We need to talk.] I sat in our shared apartment for three agonizing hours. But he never showed up. Instead, I saw the #1 trending topic on Twitter that had dropped just seven minutes ago: [Ice God Liam Sterling Suffers Crushing Defeat, Seeks Comfort in the Arms of Mystery Beauty.] The attached paparazzi photos showed him and Mia with their fingers tightly interlocked, completely unbothered by the cameras, sharing a single boba tea with two straws. I turned off my phone, walked into the bedroom, and started packing my suitcases. While emptying the closet, I found the custom engagement contract his family had drafted for us. His father had commissioned a master jeweler to engrave our vows onto a solid sheet of 24-karat gold, symbolizing that our marriage would be unbreakable. But now? It was completely worthless. I placed the heavy, solid gold plaque back into its velvet-lined mahogany box. A gift this expensive needed to be returned in person. When I arrived at the front gates of the Sterling family estate, I suddenly heard the sound of shattering porcelain and Liam’s father roaring in apocalyptic fury. “THIS IS ABSOLUTE BULLSHIT!” “Evelyn is the only daughter-in-law this family will ever recognize! If you want to break off this engagement, you’ll have to wait until I’m dead!” His mother was frantic, her voice echoing into the courtyard. “Exactly, Liam! I told you years ago you were too arrogant, promising a Grand Slam on national television! Now that you’ve lost, Evelyn is obviously devastated. Just go buy her some flowers and coax her a bit, she’ll get over it. She gave up her own career to be your assistant coach for five years! What other woman would sacrifice that much for you?! Stop acting like a spoiled brat!” Listening to his parents desperately try to salvage the situation, I felt a complex, hollow numbness in my chest. Five years ago, I declined a highly coveted, six-figure head coaching position with the International Skating Union just to stay by Liam’s side as a low-level assistant. I waited five years for a promise he made to the cameras. We hadn’t signed the marriage license yet, but everyone in our social and professional circles already viewed us as husband and wife. But you can’t keep a man whose heart has already rotted. I was just about to walk through the front doors when I heard Liam’s voice slice through the tension. “Mia is pregnant.” “Mom, Dad. Mia is carrying my child. We already did the genetic testing. It’s a boy.” “So in this lifetime, she is the only woman I am going to marry!” The massive, opulent living room plunged into a suffocating, dead silence. His mother was the first to recover from the shock. Her tone completely, instantly shifted. “Evelyn doesn’t know about this yet, right? You absolutely must keep this a secret.” “Even if we have to cancel the engagement, we need to strategize. We have to spin the narrative so that the breakup looks like it was Evelyn’s fault, otherwise, this scandal will completely destroy your post-retirement branding.” Liam’s father, who had just been screaming that he would only recognize me as his daughter-in-law, was completely, hypocritally silent. I lowered my eyes, gently placing the mahogany box on the stone patio table in the courtyard. I was just about to leave quietly when I bumped directly into Mrs. Higgins, the next-door neighbor, who was coming over to borrow a lawn tool. “Oh, Evelyn! Visiting the in-laws again?” The heavy oak front doors violently swung open. Liam and his parents stood in the doorway, their faces masks of absolute, petrified horror. “Evelyn… how long have you been standing there?” Chapter 3 I tapped my fingers lightly against the mahogany box and spoke with eerie, absolute calm. “I came to return the engagement contract. Mr. and Mrs. Sterling, from this day forward, I have absolutely no relation to your family.” “Evelyn, I refuse to break up! If you dare walk away right now, you’ll regret it!” I didn’t hesitate for a single second. I turned and walked away. But as I reached the end of the affluent, tree-lined street, I ran straight into Mia. “Assistant Coach Hayes! Are you here to cry to Liam’s mommy and daddy? You’re a grown woman, and you’re still playing these pathetic, childish games?!” Without Liam around to play the victim for, she completely dropped the innocent act, revealing her true, venomous face. “It’s a tragic shame, really. I’m already carrying Liam’s son. Oh, by the way, do you want to know where we hooked up for the very first time?” “It was last year when you went out of town for that coaches’ conference. In your apartment. In your bed. I gave myself to him…” Before the words fully left her mouth, I delivered a brutal, full-force slap directly across her face. SMACK! Suddenly, a massive swarm of paparazzi holding heavy cameras and microphones poured out from behind the parked cars, completely surrounding us. Mia instantly dropped to the pavement, clutching her head and wailing hysterically. “Assistant Coach Hayes! I know Liam losing the race is devastating, but please, I’m begging you, don’t cancel the engagement! He’s already so depressed, please don’t treat him like a disposable ATM!” Without any warning, she dropped to her knees and started violently kowtowing to me on the concrete, sobbing like a martyr. “If you’re angry, take it out on me! I can help you make money! I’ll sell my blood, I’ll sell my kidney! Liam is my savior, and I will protect him with my life!” The paparazzi practically shoved their microphones into my mouth, firing off aggressive, accusatory questions. “Using your fiancé as a cash cow?! No wonder Liam’s performance has been absolute garbage for the last two years! People like you need to be exposed and blacklisted!” “You are a cancer to the sports industry!” Liam sprinted down the street. When he saw the scene, his face turned a terrifying, livid shade of purple. He aggressively shoved me backward. “EVELYN HAYES, ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MIND?! You intentionally called the press here to humiliate me, and now you’re physically assaulting Mia?! Have you no respect for the law?!” He was always like this. He never bothered to ask for the context; he just blindly, violently took Mia’s side. Last year, during the World Championships, he missed his starting heat because he was out hiking in the mountains with Mia. Afterward, Mia brushed it off with a sickeningly casual excuse: “What’s more important? Winning a stupid medal, or making sure you’re happy and relaxed?” To salvage his reputation and save his career, I flew across the country, begging the senior officials at the ISU to give him a second chance. And while I was burning my professional bridges to save his future… he was in my bed, fucking Mia! A suffocating, volcanic rage exploded in my chest. I let out a sharp, cold laugh. “The law?” “You are the one who has absolutely zero respect for the law!” Before I could finish my sentence, Liam stepped aggressively in front of the flashing cameras. “Since the press is here today, I am officially, publicly announcing the termination of my engagement to Evelyn Hayes.” “Because I will absolutely never, ever marry the daughter of a murderer!” Chapter 4 The entire street erupted into absolute, chaotic shock. Even I froze, my brain completely short-circuiting. “What did you just say?” Liam didn’t even look at me. He stared directly into the cameras. “It is a well-known fact that Evelyn’s father was a highly respected, elite rock-climbing coach. But years ago, while leading a team during a major competition, he became so obsessed with speed and breaking records that he illegally unclipped a climber’s safety harness, causing the athlete to plummet off a cliff to his death. And he covered it up, claiming it was a tragic accident.” “YOU’RE A LIAR!” I roared, lunging forward to tear his throat out, but Mia physically blocked me. “I can testify under oath that every single word Liam is saying is true! Because the athlete who died that day… was my biological brother.” “My brother fought so hard to make it out of our impoverished town. My entire family believed he was going to be a world champion. We never imagined his coach would murder him. After the ‘accident,’ Coach Hayes gave my family a massive payout as hush money, threatening to slaughter our entire family if I ever tried to leave my hometown.” “Assistant Coach Hayes, isn’t that the real reason you declined the offer from the International Skating Union? You were crippled by guilt! You didn’t dare show your face on the global stage, so you hid here as a pathetic, low-level assistant!” My brain felt like a grenade had just detonated inside it. She knew damn well that the only reason I stayed in the States was so Liam and I wouldn’t have to do long distance! And the climber who died that day… he died because he was a psychotic, hyper-competitive narcissist! Realizing he was about to lose the race, he intentionally unclipped his own safety harness so he could lunge across the rock face and sabotage the climber in first place! The resulting fall was entirely his own fault. My father pitied the boy because he came from severe poverty, so he secretly sent his family a stipend every single month. Even on his deathbed, my father made me promise to check in on Mia’s family from time to time! I was shaking with apocalyptic rage. I grabbed Mia by the throat. “YOU LYING, VENOMOUS BITCH! MY FATHER NEVER HURT ANYONE!” But my screams were instantly drowned out by the chaos of the press. The story detonated like a nuclear bomb, dominating the #1 trending spot on every single social media platform for three straight days. [No wonder Liam has been losing ever since he announced their relationship! Evelyn is a literal curse!] [The daughter of a murderer! The sociopathic gene is probably hardwired into her DNA! She should be locked in a federal prison for the rest of her life!] The athletic commission immediately issued a formal suspension notice. My career, my reputation, and my entire life were completely, catastrophically annihilated. Radical, deranged fans doxxed my home address. They ambushed my mother while she was walking to the grocery store, throwing dead rats and trash at her, screaming death threats. The sheer terror triggered a massive heart attack. She was rushed to the ER in an ambulance. Standing outside the ICU doors, people walking past were still pointing at me and whispering. “That’s the murderer’s daughter. Honestly, the hospital shouldn’t even treat her mother. The wife of a killer can’t be a good person anyway…” My fists were clenched so tight my nails drew blood from my palms. I was shaking uncontrollably. “MY DAD WAS NOT A MURDERER! I AM NOT THE DAUGHTER OF A KILLER!” But no one cared. No one listened. Liam called me right at that moment. “Evelyn, as long as you behave, come to my office, and publicly apologize to Mia on camera, I’ll hire a PR firm to scrub the black PR against you.” Mia’s voice immediately echoed in the background. “Honestly, I just wanted justice for my brother. Evelyn, if you come to my brother’s grave and kowtow to apologize, we can just let this whole thing go.” I laughed. A bitter, hollow, freezing laugh. “Why the fuck would I apologize? For you inverting reality? Or because you let him knock you up?!” Liam barked aggressively through the phone, “SHUT YOUR MOUTH!” “I’m offering you an out, and you’re spitting in my face! Fine! You just wait!” The call disconnected. Just then, the red light above the ICU doors turned off. My mother had temporarily stabilized, but she was still in critical condition. She lay exhausted and frail in the hospital bed, weakly gripping my hand. “Evelyn… your dad… he didn’t kill anyone… he didn’t…” I nodded forcefully, hot tears finally breaking through my lashes and soaking my face. “I know, Mom. I promise you, I will clear his name! I will get justice for Dad!” I didn’t know what sick, twisted move Liam was planning next, but I knew one thing for absolute certain. I was done playing the victim. I was done staying silent. Liam delusionally believed he could manipulate the media and control the narrative, but he forgot one crucial detail: his biggest, most catastrophic vulnerabilities were sitting right in my hands. I spent the entire night compiling the evidence. The very next morning, I walked flawlessly, confidently into the grand ballroom of Liam’s official Retirement Gala. In front of the blinding flashes of every major sports network and news outlet in the country, I plugged a flash drive into the main projector and displayed the security footage from the locker room. “Ladies and gentlemen. I am officially, publicly blowing the whistle on Liam Sterling. For five years of premeditated match-fixing, bribing medical staff to falsify pre-race drug tests, and engaging in illicit sexual relations with a fan, resulting in pregnancy…”

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The day I was born, the moment the nurse handed me to my parents, the joyful smiles on their faces instantly froze. Hovering just above my smooth, newborn head was a string of numbers that only they could see. 6,570 days. Exactly eighteen years. Not a day more, not a day less. The nurse assumed they were just nervous first-time parents. But my mom and dad knew the truth—that number was the countdown to my death. While the other families in the maternity ward were celebrating new beginnings, my parents were staring directly at my end. For the next eighteen years, I was the most cherished person in our household. No matter how tight money got, I got the fresh eggs, the new clothes, the best cuts of meat. My younger brother could only watch with hungry, envious eyes. My parents would always tell him, “Let your sister have it. She doesn’t have much time left.” I grew up understanding the assignment. I never threw tantrums, never caused trouble. I just quietly waited to die. On my eighteenth birthday, I blew out the candles and sincerely said my goodbyes to the world. The next morning, my parents and my brother walked into my bedroom, dressed in somber black, their eyes red and swollen from crying. I rubbed my eyes, sat up, and smiled at them. “Good morning.” The air in the room instantly solidified. The profound grief on their faces slowly morphed into shock. Then into a stiff, awkward stiffness. And finally, into a chilling coldness. … The silence dragged on for a full ten seconds. “How… how are you…” My brother hid behind my mom, his voice trembling like he was looking at a ghost. “I didn’t die,” I said. My dad’s face cycled through several expressions before he finally forced out a strained smile. “That’s good. That’s good you didn’t die…” He nudged my mom’s arm. “Go make breakfast.” My mom offered a delayed, wooden nod. She walked to the doorway, stopped, and looked back at me. The look in her eyes was so complex I couldn’t understand it. For the first time in eighteen years, I felt like something in my home was terribly wrong. Breakfast was just plain oatmeal and toast. My brother, out of habit, pushed the plate of scrambled eggs toward me. I reached out to take some. Smack! My mom slapped my hand away so hard it left a bright red mark. “You’re an adult now! Are you really going to fight your little brother for eggs? Grow up and be considerate for once.” I pulled my hand back and quietly finished my oatmeal. After breakfast, I immediately jumped up to wash the dishes. In the past, whenever I tried to do chores, my mom would rush over, stop me, and say with a doting smile, “Oh, sweetheart, you don’t need to do that. Let Mom handle it.” This time, she just shot me a cold, sideways glance and said nothing. After washing the dishes, I forgot to wring out the sponge and left it sitting wet on the edge of the sink. My mom walked into the kitchen, saw the sponge, and her expression instantly twisted in fury. “Are you blind?! You just leave a soaking wet sponge sitting there to grow mold?!” I was startled and quickly reached for the sponge. “I raised you for eighteen years!” she screamed, following right behind me, her voice shrill. “We gave you the best of everything! The eggs, the meat, the brand-new clothes! Has your brother ever worn anything that wasn’t a hand-me-down?! You’ve been living like a princess! And you can’t even wash a damn dish right…” “Mom, I washed them. It’s just the sponge…” “Don’t you dare talk back to me! Are you out of your mind?!” She snatched the sponge from my hand and violently hurled it onto the floor. “Look at you! Walking around with that miserable look on your face! You’ve been alive for eighteen years and you don’t even know how to wring out a sponge! What use are you?!” My dad walked into the kitchen at that moment. He looked at my mom, who was red in the face with rage, and then at me, standing there in utter shock. He waved his hand dismissively, like he was breaking up a pointless argument. “Enough yelling. Both of you, go find something useful to do.” I bit my lip hard, my voice barely above a whisper. “Mom, Dad… are you acting like this because I didn’t die?” Their bodies instantly went rigid. My dad took a deep breath, forced an awkward, hollow laugh, and said, “We’re just… we haven’t adjusted yet. We need… we need some time to process this…” I watched them walk away. Faintly, I heard my dad mutter under his breath, “Eighteen years, and she just doesn’t die. What kind of sick joke is this?” I couldn’t understand it. I was alive. Wasn’t that something to celebrate? I looked out the kitchen window. The sunlight looked exactly the same as it always did. But as it fell on my skin, it suddenly felt freezing cold. After that day, the atmosphere in the house changed completely. I was moved into the cramped storage room. My mom said my brother was a growing boy and needed the larger bedroom with better sunlight. My mom stopped asking what I wanted for dinner. Instead, when setting the table, she would set one plate short in silence, shoot me a resentful glare, and then reluctantly grab another set of silverware. My dad spoke even less. Sometimes, when he came home from work and saw me sitting on the porch, he would pause, then intentionally walk around the house to use the back door. Only my brother would occasionally linger near the storage room door, watching me. The look in his eyes was strange—like he was observing a freak of nature. Before, I was the precious treasure they had spent eighteen years desperately loving. Now, I was the scapegoat for every single thing that went wrong in the house. If a faucet wasn’t turned off all the way, my dad’s brow would furrow deeply. The gentle tone he used to use with me was completely gone. “Did you do that on purpose? Do you know how expensive the water bill is?! All you do is drain our resources!” “Dad, I swear I didn’t…” “Don’t call me Dad!” he roared, before turning and storming off. When my brother failed a math test by one point, my mom exploded. “It’s because you’re constantly hovering around the house, distracting him! We were supposed to finally be able to live a normal, peaceful life, and you ruined everything!” If the rice at dinner was slightly undercooked, my mom would slam her fork down. “It’s because you didn’t die! You bring bad luck to this house! Even the stove is fighting against me now!” I stood there, helpless, my eyes red and tears streaming down my face. I muttered brokenly, “I thought I was going to die, too.” The breaking point happened one evening when I flipped a light switch, the bulb flickered, and then blew out completely with a loud pop. My mom completely lost her mind. “You are a curse! Ever since you lived past eighteen, everything in this house breaks! You’re a jinx!” “Eighteen years! Six thousand days! Your father and I counted down every single day raising you! We gave you everything, and left your brother with nothing! We mentally prepared ourselves to say goodbye to you, over and over and over again… and you…” She didn’t finish the sentence, but I understood perfectly. Their eighteen years of sacrifice, the neglect they showed my brother, the agonizing countdown they had so carefully managed—it had all turned into a massive, humiliating joke. It wasn’t because I was alive. It was because they realized that all the money they had spent on me, all the things they had denied my brother—things that were supposed to be justified and resolved the moment I died—were now entirely meaningless. I thought that if I just worked myself to the bone, if I swallowed my pride and endured the abuse, if I somehow made up for my “mistake” of surviving, my parents’ hearts would soften. I thought they would remember how much they used to love me. I took over every single chore in the house. I did the laundry, cooked the meals, bought the groceries, mopped the floors. I worked harder than a paid housekeeper. I cooked elaborate, different meals every day. I kept the house spotless. But no matter how perfectly I did everything, it never earned me a single kind word or a smile from my parents. I grew thinner and thinner, my face gaunt and exhausted. The neighbors eventually noticed the shift in how I was being treated and began gossiping. One neighbor tried to reason with my parents. “Don’t be so hard on Mia. She’s still your daughter.” My mom, right in front of the neighbor, scrunched her face in absolute disgust. “As far as we’re concerned, we never had a daughter. She’s a freak. She’s a curse on our family’s luck! Keeping her around just brings us endless misery!” My dad chimed in right beside her. “We raised her for eighteen years! We’ve fulfilled our moral obligation! Now she’s just leeching off us, dragging this family down!” Those words were like daggers plunging directly into my heart. The pain was so suffocating I couldn’t breathe. Every minor inconvenience in the house became a weapon they used to attack me. But it was an incident with my brother that became the final straw. That day, it was just my brother and me at home. I needed to use the bathroom, but when I tried to open the storage room door, the handle wouldn’t turn. I panicked, pounding frantically on the wood. “Leo! Open the door!” No one opened the door. Instead, I heard a loud crash from the kitchen—the sound of things shattering—followed by a cry of pain and Leo screaming. When the door finally opened, it was my mom. The second the door swung wide, she slapped me across the face with everything she had. “You jinx! I knew leaving you home alone would end in disaster!” Her eyes were bloodshot; she looked like a rabid animal. She collapsed onto the floor, slapping her own thighs and wailing. “My life is a curse… raising a freak for a daughter! You ruined any chance this family had at a good life!” My dad came home right then. He saw Leo’s broken leg, he saw my mom acting like a lunatic, and the madness seemed to infect him instantly. He grabbed me by the collar of my shirt, hauled me up, and violently threw me back onto the small cot in the storage room. “Mia! You are a plague on this house! Just die already!” My voice was raw and hoarse from crying as I desperately tried to explain. “Mom, Dad, it wasn’t my fault! Leo was trying to steal the cookies from the top cabinet and he slipped…” They didn’t listen. They locked the door from the outside. No food. No water. I could hear everything happening outside. My mom cooking dinner in the kitchen. My dad’s heavy footsteps pacing the living room. Leo loudly complaining about his leg hurting. No one mentioned me. Not once. I curled into a tight ball on the freezing cot. My cheek was swollen and burning from the slap. My body was on fire with a high fever, yet I was shivering uncontrollably from the cold. My consciousness began to blur. I thought, This time, I’m really going to die. Good. Dying is better. Dying means I’m finally free. In my delirium, the eighteen years of my life flashed through my mind like a movie on fast-forward. As far back as my memory goes, I could feel the different way my parents looked at me. At first, I didn’t understand the meaning behind that gaze. It felt like they were looking at a fragile porcelain doll that could shatter at any moment. It was careful, but loaded with a complex emotion I couldn’t decipher. Later, I realized it was a mix of pity, helplessness, and profound sorrow. They never, ever talked about my future. Our family was always living on a countdown. The neighborhood moms would praise me for being so mature. They said I was always so quiet, never throwing fits or making a fuss. They didn’t know I wasn’t making a fuss because I just didn’t see the point. I grew up fast. I was mature because I had nothing to fight for. Kids in kindergarten would cry over a piece of candy or throw a tantrum because they didn’t get a gold star. I never did. The candy I was given was always the biggest piece. The gold star was always handed to me first. My teachers loved me. They said I was an “easy” child to manage. Only I knew that I wasn’t “easy.” I was just waiting. Waiting for the day that invisible number hit zero. When my brother was born, I could feel the guilt in my parents’ eyes even more intensely. When he was five, he snuck a piece of meat from my plate. My mom caught him and spanked him mercilessly. He cried and screamed, “Why does she get to eat it, but I can’t?!” My mom didn’t answer. She just kept spanking him. Afterward, she hid in the kitchen and cried for a long time. “Sis,” my brother had whispered to me later. “Are you really going to die?” “Mom says you’re going to die. Sis, I don’t want you to die. You can have all the meat from now on.” The memories of my mom and brother’s eyes from back then tangled with the look in their eyes now, making my head pound with agonizing pain. Did they love me? Yes. They did. But that love had an expiration date. It was entirely predicated on the countdown. It was a love built entirely around the concept of saying goodbye. Eighteen years. The countdown ended, and so did their love. I figured if I died now, maybe that love would be preserved in their memories. We would all remember each other at our absolute best. My mom, stroking my hair with a loving smile. “Mia is the most beautiful princess in this new dress.” My dad, lifting me high into the air, promising to show me the most beautiful sights in the world. My brother, secretly saving his favorite yogurt drinks just to give them to me. Those moments felt so incredibly close, yet impossibly far away. I forced my heavy eyelids open. I was still in the storage room. There was no light coming in. There was nothing. I twitched my fingers, trying to reach under my pillow for the letter. A letter I had written to my mom, my dad, and my brother. I had written it a long time ago. I pulled a weak, bitter smile. I just hadn’t managed to die on schedule. There was also a pink piggy bank. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to buy a small toy for Leo. I drifted off to sleep again. I thought that when they finally found me and saw those things, maybe they wouldn’t be so angry at me anymore. This time, my sleep was incredibly deep. Dreamless. I could hear my own heartbeat. Thump. Thump. Thump. And then, slowly, very slowly… it stopped. The storage room fell completely, utterly silent. No one knew. No one came to check. The little girl who had spent her entire life waiting to die… finally didn’t have to wait anymore. The moment I detached from my body, I felt incredibly, impossibly light. I floated in the air near the ceiling, looking down at my stiff, lifeless body on the cot. I marveled at the fact that souls actually existed after death. I phased right through the drywall and finally stepped out of that cramped, suffocating room. Lunch was set on the dining table. Three place settings. My mom had finished cooking. My dad was serving the rice. My brother was sitting at the table, waiting. I floated over and sat in my usual chair, waiting for one of them to ask, “Where’s Mia?” But no one did. After lunch, my brother limped toward the storage room. My eyes lit up. I screamed silently, Leo, open the door! I promise I’ll never be a burden to you guys again! But before his hand could even touch the doorknob, my mom’s voice lashed out from the kitchen. “Leo! What do you think you’re doing?! Get away from that door! Do you want your leg to hurt worse?!” Leo flinched, terrified, and quickly hobbled away. That afternoon, Mrs. Higgins from next door came over to borrow some salt. “Where’s Mia? I haven’t seen her around the last couple of days.” My mom’s expression went rigid for a second, but she quickly smoothed it over. “She’s not feeling well. She’s resting in her room.” “Is it serious? I have some medicine at my house if…” I offered a sad, bitter smile. Mrs. Higgins, no medicine in the world can save me now. “No, no, it’s fine!” my mom said, her voice a little too rushed. “It’s just… she’s fine. She just needs a couple days of rest.” Mrs. Higgins didn’t press the issue, and I lost my chance to be discovered. After she left, my mom glanced nervously toward the storage room door several times, but she never once walked over to check on me. When my dad got home from work that evening, I spread my arms wide and tried to block his path. Dad! Please, I’m begging you, just go look at me! I promise I won’t make you guys angry ever again! The countdown is really over this time! But my dad walked right through me. “She still locked in there?” he asked. My mom didn’t say anything. “Open the door,” my dad said. I was practically weeping with joy. Was I finally going to be discovered? Would my mom and dad be sad? Would they tell me I was a good girl? As my mom took a step toward the storage room, the house phone suddenly began ringing frantically. My dad picked it up. His face instantly drained of all color. He looked like he was about to collapse. My mom was startled. She ran over and grabbed his arm to steady him. I sighed. I was so close. So incredibly close to being found. “We have to go! We have to go back to my hometown right now! My brother just called… Grandma is dying!” They scrambled to grab their coats and rushed out the door with Leo. The storage room door remained locked. I was forgotten once again. Even though I was dead and had no heartbeat. Hearing the news about my grandmother still sent a phantom ache through my chest. Over the past eighteen years, Grandma loved me the most. Knowing I was only going to live to eighteen, she had spent countless nights awake, crying over me. I floated into their car and followed them back to our rural hometown, wanting to see Grandma one last time. Grandma was lying in her bed, looking as fragile as dry kindling. She gripped my dad’s hand tightly, forcing the words out with agonizing effort. “David… where is Mia? Why isn’t she here?” My dad looked away, his face etched with guilt. “She… she stayed home. She didn’t come…” Grandma’s eyes suddenly widened in horror. “You bastard. What did you do?” My dad panicked and immediately confessed the truth. “Mia just made a mistake, so I punished her by making her skip a few meals…” Hearing that, all the remaining strength seemed to leave Grandma’s body. She muttered something under her breath. “Mom? What did you say? I can’t hear you.” My dad leaned in desperately close to hear her fading voice. “What about Mia? What do you mean she wasn’t supposed to die?” He pressed his ear practically against her lips. I was floating too far away to hear what she said. But I watched my dad’s body instantly turn to stone, as if he had been struck by a massive bolt of lightning. The expression on his face twisted into absolute, horrifying disbelief. He even forgot to blink. “MIA!!” I jumped. My dad let out a scream of pure, unadulterated terror. His face was ghostly white. Ignoring my mom’s frantic, confused questions, he started sprinting out of the house like a madman, muttering over and over, “We got it wrong… we got it completely wrong…” What did they get wrong?

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