Category: English

When I was four, I was finally found by my biological parents and brought to a hillside mansion that looked like a palace. It was my first time being escorted by bodyguards. The fake heiress, wearing an exquisite tutu dress and a hair clip worth thousands, walked up to me and asked, “Are you the daughter of Mrs. Davis, the cleaning lady?” She looked so innocent and pure. Based on the personality my adoptive parents had beaten into me, I should have been terrified and completely overwhelmed by the grand scene. But… sorry to disappoint. I’ve been reborn. 1 I opened my eyes. Outside the car window, the scenery blurred past. Aside from me, curled up tiny on the plush leather seat, there was only a bodyguard in a black suit and sunglasses in the driver’s seat. I stared blankly out the window. My eyes held no childlike innocence, only a hint of boredom. I couldn’t understand why a chance at rebirth was given to me, someone with absolutely zero desire to live. Let’s see… I tried to recall. In my past life, I think I committed… suicide? Yeah, I think so! The car sped along, following the exact trajectory of my past life, heading toward the place that had trapped me forever. The mansion oozed luxury from every corner; only those at the pinnacle of high society had the right to live here. Inside resided the happiest family of four: a father who was an immensely powerful CEO, a mother who was a beautiful and elegant socialite, a gentle and handsome brother who doted on his sister, and an innocent, obedient younger sister who was the apple of everyone’s eye. The family adored their youngest daughter so much that they couldn’t bear to send her to preschool until she was four. Ironically, it was during her admission health checkup that they discovered the shocking truth: the precious jewel they had loved with all their hearts for four years wasn’t biologically theirs! Their true biological daughter had been swapped at birth and had spent the last four years living in a backward, remote fishing village. Although it was hard to accept, the wealthy parents immediately brought their biological daughter back from the fishing village. What they couldn’t foresee was that later on, for the sake of the fake heiress, they would say to this returned daughter: “You are so vicious! I wish you had just died out there!” The brother, who was always warm and gentle to everything, would shield the fake heiress, glaring warily at his own biological sister, and warn her: “Learn to be forgiving.” The fiancé, arranged since childhood and whom she had barely met, would look at her with eyes full of disgust. From the moment she was found, everyone thought the fake heiress was better, more obedient, and more pitiful. The true heiress, who seemingly returned to a life of luxury, lived her entire life being compared, despised, and framed. Desperate for love, destroyed by it. I felt a warm, wet sensation on my cheeks. Tears. But I didn’t feel a shred of sadness. I tried to jumpstart my dull, numb brain. After a long moment, I could only curse this body for being so dramatic. I remembered a voice whispering in my ear right before I fell into darkness in my past life: “The protagonist’s halo cannot be fought…” Cannot be fought? If it can’t be fought, then why let me be reborn? Didn’t you get enough entertainment watching me act like a pathetic, trapped beast in my past life? Or did you think my past life wasn’t laughable enough? The car was completely silent. No one gave me an answer. 2 I was brought inside the mansion. Richard and Eleanor Sterling were already waiting on the sofa, with their nine-year-old son, Oliver, beside them. Perhaps they hadn’t anticipated it, but no one had changed me into clean clothes before bringing me here. I was still wearing the filthy, worn-out undergarments handed down from my adoptive parents’ older son. On my feet were a pair of dirty sandals with the soles peeling off. My dry, yellowish hair was matted into clumps. I didn’t miss the flash of surprise and complex emotion in their eyes. I didn’t know if they were disgusted by my clothes or by me. “Mommy~” From the spiral staircase, a girl wearing a tutu dress and sparkly hair clips in her slightly curled hair walked down step by step, closely followed by a nanny. Her dress was truly beautiful—bright colors with delicate embroidery of little bunnies and flowers. See! In an instant, she drew everyone’s attention. I have to admit, in my past life, I secretly envied Mia too. Even while I ridiculously tried to put on airs as the true heiress, I envied her. Her parents loved her, so much that they swapped me out to give her a better life. My parents loved her too; barely anyone knew she was fake until right before I died. My brother loved her and favored her constantly. Everyone who was supposed to be mine loved her… I was the only one who hated her. 3 My name is Chloe Sterling. Before my biological parents found me, my name was Chloe Fisher. Because I lived in a fishing village, they stuck “Fisher” in my name as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and I had no choice. Later, Richard Sterling changed my last name, giving me a name that meant “beautiful and intelligent.” I was so happy, like a dusty pearl finally wiped clean and plucked from the mud. Only later did I realize the meaning didn’t matter, only how it sounded. In their eyes, I was just an “extra”—superfluous no matter where I was. My lifelong nemesis was named Mia Sterling. The name meant “lotus rising from the water,” a beautiful wish and hope chosen by Richard and Eleanor together. Everything she had, before and even later, was originally mine. She was manipulative, but her disguises were clumsy, easily seen through with a single glance. Yet, I still couldn’t beat her. The ending was that I lost. I didn’t want to fight anymore. I was tired. I could no longer feel any joy from the tiny scraps of attention they occasionally threw my way. “Mia!” Eleanor instinctively stood up from the sofa and walked toward her. Then, remembering something, she stopped and cast a complex look at the nanny behind Mia. The nanny lowered her head awkwardly. Mia walked toward me. Like natural enemies, she noticed me immediately. Or maybe my attire was just too conspicuous among these wealthy people. I looked like a little beggar; even her nanny was dressed better than I was. She rubbed her slightly red eyes, as if she had just been crying, her tone somewhat innocent: “Who are you? Are you the daughter of Mrs. Davis, the cleaning lady?” The exact same words. Before Richard and the others could react, the people in the room watched us like an audience at a play. What did I do in my past life? Oh. In my past life, I was so terrified I plopped right down on the floor. Amidst my panic, I couldn’t help but think how soft the floor was. It was covered in a beautiful rug, softer than the sand after high tide. First impressions are crucial. Mia had a massive, inherent advantage. From our very first meeting in my past life, I lost spectacularly. She was pale, chubby, and adorable, while I was sallow, emaciated, petty, and annoying. Tears fell from my eyes, plop, plop. My voice was tiny and timid: “Did my mommy sell me here? She said if I wasn’t a good girl, she would sell me. “Chloe is a good girl.” I suppressed my sobs, trying my best to show the audience the image of a pitiful little girl who was scared but trying hard to be brave. Mia loved using this trick. It instantly aroused everyone’s sympathy, as if she were the most pitiful person in the whole world. I despised it in my past life, but now, I found it quite fun. She was never smart to begin with, and her tricks weren’t clever. Relying on that so-called “protagonist’s halo,” she received endless, mindless favoritism, causing me to suffer untold grievances. Now, I wanted her to taste that feeling for herself. Fighting fire with fire, isn’t that right? From the sofa, I heard Eleanor’s heartbroken sobs. I thought with self-loathing: Is she really that sad? Could she guess that one day she would become one of the straws that broke my back? Forcing me to watch as my belongings were slowly taken over by Mia. I looked at Mia in front of me; her focus seemed entirely on me. A hint of a smile flashed across her lips. My pitiful state gave her pleasure. Like a princess, she looked down at me, skinnier and smaller than her, and said condescendingly, “You’re so pitiful. I’ll talk to my mommy later, and you can be my little maid from now on.” I laughed inwardly at her clownish behavior, waiting for the real decision-maker to arrive. 4 “Nonsense!” A woman in her forties, looking regal and elegant, walked in through the doorway. An assistant carrying a briefcase stood beside her. The moment she spoke, the grand hall fell silent. Even my mother stopped sobbing. “Grandma~” With a sweet voice, Mia lifted her skirt and trotted over. It was obvious she was highly favored by her grandmother. But to her dismay, the elder she adored walked right past her and crouched down in front of the girl she considered a little beggar. Grandma stroked my dry, yellowish hair, her smile incredibly kind: “What’s your name?” I dropped my previous act, my gaze very calm. “My name is Chloe Fisher.” I pointed at Mia, who was standing a few steps ahead of me: “Did you bring me here to be her little maid?” I suddenly started crying as if I had suffered a massive grievance: “Can I refuse? I don’t want to be someone’s little maid.” “The money my mommy got for selling me… I’ll pay you back double when I grow up.” I choked back a sob. In my past life, she was the only person not bewitched by Mia’s protagonist halo. She was also the one who paid attention to my growth, saw my progress, and praised me. Of course! I wasn’t narcissistic enough to believe I could defeat Mia’s protagonist halo. It was just that Grandma prioritized family bloodlines and interests above all else. She would spoil you because you had Sterling blood, and she would abandon you if you didn’t. To firmly grasp this singular source of attention, I desperately tried to grow into the person she wanted me to be. Even so, I still couldn’t match the weight Mia held in everyone’s hearts, and I still fell into Mia’s clumsily constructed traps. I think, in the end, she must have been disappointed too… “Good child. Of course, Grandma wouldn’t let you be a little maid. Do you know? You are Grandma’s biological granddaughter. You are the little princess of our Sterling family!” she declared solemnly. She was saying this for me, but also for everyone else in the living room to hear. “Grandma! Waaah~ I am your granddaughter!” Mia ran over and threw her arms around her. The assistant instinctively pulled her away, and she struggled, crying even more hysterically. Eleanor covered her mouth, crying as if her heart was broken. Grandma stood up, took my hand, and led me to the sofa: “Chloe is a child of our Sterling family. The paternity test results show a 99% probability of biological relationship.” The assistant let go of Mia and took the paternity test report out of the briefcase. Mia seized the opportunity to run to Eleanor’s side, and Eleanor hugged her, crying sorrowfully. I felt absolutely nothing inside. In my past life, scenes like this played out frequently in the house. The result was always complaints directed at me, telling me to accommodate her, asking why I couldn’t be more generous since Mia was so pitiful. Actually, they were just resenting me for being the biological daughter, getting in the way of the deep mother-daughter bond between Eleanor and Mia. “Our Sterling family bloodline has been wandering outside for four years. The incident of the babies being swapped back then looks suspicious to me. If it was a mistake, we can’t pursue it. But if it was intentional, our family won’t be made fools of.” She glanced at Mia, who was shrinking back. “Furthermore, Chloe has suffered so much out there in Mia’s place. I don’t care about scandals. Pick a good date, announce this to the public, and let Chloe regain her rightful identity as soon as possible. “Richard, you are the father. You make the decision.” The man sitting on the sofa, who had been silent the whole time, nodded, his stern expression unwavering. He glanced at his wife: “I agree. I’ll have someone handle it in the next few days. During this time, let little… Chloe rest and recover at home. “As for Mia…” Grandma cut him off: “Even though our Sterling family can easily afford to raise another child, the situation between Chloe and Mia is awkward. Mia has also occupied Chloe’s place for so many years, enjoying everything that was meant for her. It’s best if she returns to where she belongs.” “Whether that Fisher couple did something despicable back then is still unclear. But regardless of what they did, the child is innocent. Our Sterling family isn’t heartless. We can provide Mia with some financial assistance, enough for her to live comfortably for the rest of her life.” She turned to look at me, her decision swift and resolute: “While the children are still young, it’s better to get things back on track early.” Mia, nestled in Eleanor’s arms, half-understood, but she knew they were going to send her away. She cried and screamed, begging her parents not to abandon her, not to send her away, promising she would be a good girl and eat all her food from now on. Oliver stood by her side, gently patting her back to comfort her. I stared at the filthy sandals on my feet, feeling absolutely no anticipation. I already knew the ending to this farce. Eleanor couldn’t bear Mia’s heart-wrenching cries and desperate attempts to please her. Richard was a deeply devoted husband, naturally inclined to accommodate his wife’s wishes. In the end, Mia stayed in the house. It wasn’t even difficult; we lived together under the guise of being fraternal twins. In status, one was the eldest daughter of the Sterling family, and the other was the second daughter. Eleanor looked at me guiltily, then looked down reluctantly at Mia in her arms. “Mom, how about… we keep Mia? She’s the daughter I painstakingly raised for four years. “These four years represent over a thousand days of mother-daughter bonding. I didn’t know Mia… wasn’t my daughter. I always believed she was mine. I gave her the very best… “This mistake shows that Mia and our family have a destiny together. It’s not like our family can’t afford to raise one more child. “Chloe… she needs time to adjust too. Wouldn’t it be better for her to have Mia as a companion?” I blinked, wanting to sneer. She’s the daughter you painstakingly raised for four years. But me, your biological daughter? Not only did I not receive your meticulous care, I suffered for four years in someone else’s place. And in the end, I’m expected to understand your ‘painstaking effort’ and generously accept you continuing to raise the thief who stole my life? Where in the world do you find such a good deal? I tugged at the hem of Grandma’s skirt beside me. She looked down at me, before she could reply to Eleanor. “I’m hot,” I said. Everyone looked at me. It was August or September, the weather was scorching. The mansion had central air conditioning set to a comfortable temperature, but I was wearing a tattered, fleece-lined inner shirt suitable for late autumn, with sleeves that were a section too long. It was safe to say that after Mia’s biological parents swapped us, they never bought me a single piece of clothing. Everything I wore were hand-me-downs from their relatives’ kids—regardless of size or gender, as long as it kept me from being naked. Hearing that I was hot, the assistant asked if he should take me to change into something else. Grandma nodded, but unexpectedly, I resisted violently. She was confused, but since there were more pressing matters at hand, she told the assistant to just roll up my sleeves a bit to help me cool off. Under everyone’s watchful eyes, the assistant rolled the sleeve up to my forearm, revealing bruises of all sizes. I don’t know who gasped. Eleanor pushed Mia away and rushed over to me, but Grandma was already in front of her, gripping my arm and interrogating me. “How did this happen? Chloe, tell Grandma, who did this?” Eleanor stood to the side, covering her mouth and crying, wanting to get closer but having no chance. 5 The Fisher couple loved abusing children. Their dissatisfaction with life made it a habit to vent their frustrations on their daughter. Sons were treasures; daughters were weeds. Especially a daughter who wasn’t even biologically theirs. They believed the baby swap would never be discovered, so they acted with impunity. “If you dare tell anyone, I’ll beat you to death.” The warning after every punishment was deeply etched into a four-year-old child’s heart. Even after being brought back by her biological parents, she didn’t dare complain. Only the maid who took care of her knew, and a snobbish maid wouldn’t cause trouble for an unfavored child. Marks on the body eventually fade. When I grew up, I regretted keeping the abuse I suffered at the Fishers’ a secret. Maybe it was fear, or maybe a tiny bit of foolish pride. At four years old, I only knew that being beaten was bad; it meant I must have done something wrong. I didn’t want my parents to see the “bad” parts of me. But now that I’ve been reborn, I refuse to suffer that grievance again. It’s time for revenge. What does a four-year-old child need pride for?! I’m not going to be the silent victim this time! I stared at those bruises: “When Chloe is bad, Mommy and Daddy punish Chloe.” A folder slammed heavily onto the marble coffee table. Richard stood up, his face flushed with anger. Mia was terrified by my injuries and burst into tears. Grandma glanced over, her brow furrowing with absolute fury: “This is a slap in the face to our Sterling family! We treated their child like a treasure, and this is how they treat Chloe, a child so young! “That settles it. I don’t want to hear another word. Send Mia back!” Send Mia back?! The pain on my body was something I had long since learned to tolerate, but the slight deviation from the plot of my past life actually made me feel a bit of satisfaction. I just wondered if Mia’s protagonist halo could still keep her here in the end. The servants moved quickly. Mia’s room was cleared out in no time. It was the second-best bedroom in the mansion, right across from Oliver’s. I pouted. Playing the pitiful victim really did work. I never got to live in that room in my past life~ Two months passed. I gained some weight, my skin became lighter and softer, and my facial features gradually emerged, inheriting the best traits of Richard and Eleanor. This was one thing I always had over Mia. But my past life taught me that beauty doesn’t guarantee favoritism. A few days after I was brought back, Grandma resolutely sent Mia back to the Fishers. Even though Eleanor hesitated, the abuse crossed Richard and Grandma’s absolute bottom line, rendering her halo ineffective. They also set about uncovering the truth of what happened years ago and sued the Fisher couple for child abuse. But I knew Mia’s departure was only temporary. Sooner or later, she would return… 6 During these two months, Eleanor treated me impeccably. After all, I was the flesh and blood she carried for ten months. She wanted to overcompensate and build a bond with me. I just went along with it, comfortably accepting everything. Even though she would sometimes accidentally call me Mia, and in quiet moments, I could see her missing the child she had raised for four years. It didn’t matter. After being reborn, I felt like a spectator watching a story unfold. I couldn’t feel the highs and lows, the joys and sorrows, too deeply. My brother, who was five years older than me, was somewhat distant. Even though he was smarter than other kids and knew how to be polite and courteous, he still couldn’t hide his emotions completely like an adult. When Eleanor brought me to him, hoping to foster a sibling bond, he would find a reasonable excuse to decline, leaving Eleanor with nothing to say. He didn’t put up a hypocritical front for me. He probably thought I was too young to understand. The resentment in his eyes made me feel like I was a bandit who had torn apart his happy family of four, the little beggar who had driven away his sister. Fine! In a way, I was. But I found pleasure in that thought. In mid-November of that year, the family threw me my very first birthday party. It was exceptionally grand, as if to make up for the birthdays I missed in previous years. It was also an occasion to publicly announce my identity. Held in Richard’s arms, I calmly accepted the blessings of various important figures. They wished me joy every year, a smooth path ahead, and a life free of worry. They praised me for being adorable and inheriting my parents’ best features. For those few short hours, I truly felt like a princess held in the palm of their hands. But… being a princess has an expiration date. I was a Cinderella whose halo would fade when the clock struck. Richard had to stay at the venue to socialize, while Eleanor suggested taking me and Oliver home early. Her eagerness gave me a hunch. It was 10:30 PM when the car arrived at the mansion. In the foyer, Eleanor let go of the hand she had been holding and hurried toward the living room. Oliver, following behind us, also dropped his usual composure. “Mia!” Mia was sitting on the sofa, wearing a white dress. She looked much more sensible. She cried timidly in Eleanor’s arms, saying how much she missed Mommy, Daddy, and her brother. “Mia, welcome home!” Hearing the joy in my brother’s voice—the brother who didn’t like me—I walked alone from the foyer to my room. Good kids go to bed early and wake up early. The next morning, Mia was already sitting obediently at the dining table. It seemed the two months of hunger at the Fishers’ had cured her of being a picky, spoiled brat. When Eleanor saw me come down, she gently picked me up and placed me on a dining chair, softly asking if I slept well last night. Oliver’s attitude had also improved; he moved the milk I couldn’t reach closer to me. Mia, sitting next to him, looked at me timidly, not a trace of her former arrogance visible. “Chloe, Mommy wants to discuss something with you. Your sister’s biological parents made a mistake and were taken to prison by the police. She has no one to take care of her and nowhere to live. Can we let her live with us?” I took a sip of the milk. I could never get used to the taste; it was too gamey to swallow. I listened quietly as Eleanor explained how pitiful Mia was. Richard had gone to the company early, and Grandma lived at the main estate. The three people at the table were eagerly waiting for my stance. I glanced at Mia’s exposed, fair arms and lowered my eyelashes: “Isn’t this something Daddy and Mommy decide?” I want to say no. I want to throw her out. I want her to be despised and looked down upon. I want her to be beaten black and blue like I was. I want her to suffer what I suffered. Would you grant my wish? Eleanor stroked my head and smiled with relief: “Chloe is so understanding. We’ll be a family of five from now on.” The Fisher couple was sent to prison by the Sterling family, and Mia was removed from the Sterling family registry. She would have no inheritance rights in the future. Grandma turned a blind eye, and Mia—no, Mia Fisher!—finally stayed as the adopted daughter of the Sterling family. I had to marvel at the power of the protagonist’s halo. I seemed to have changed a lot, yet it felt like nothing had changed at all. 7 Eleanor loved the illusion of sibling harmony and always tried to group her three children together, but I clearly couldn’t blend in. At first, Mia was well-behaved. Her biological instincts made her wary of me, so she could only subtly emphasize her presence in the house. But I still couldn’t stand her “green tea” (manipulative and innocent-acting) posturing. When acting spoiled with Eleanor, she would always sneak a glance at me, as if showing off a possession. She would chatter endlessly, deliberately mentioning where the family had traveled or what gifts her parents had given her before I came back. She was even worse with Oliver: “Brother~ Why are you only holding my hand? Sister is right here too. “Brother, you are the best brother in Mia’s heart! We’ll be siblings for life.” Listening to her made me want to throw up. I couldn’t be bothered dealing with Mia’s weak, manipulative attacks. Instead, I picked one of her many personas from my past life—the sickly, fragile “Lin Daiyu” type—and started acting it out. Medical exams obviously wouldn’t find anything wrong with me, but after suffering four years of abuse since birth, wasn’t it perfectly normal for me to be a bit frail? The constant, suffocating care followed. Grandma came from the main estate and scolded Richard and Eleanor. It scared Mia so much she hid in her room like a frightened quail, not daring to come out. After all, she had heard with her own ears when Grandma ordered her out of the house. Despite her age, Mia was already quite scheming. If nothing else, at least I didn’t have to constantly sit between them, watching Mia’s amateur manipulation and Oliver’s brainless devotion. This persona was incredibly effective. In my past life, whenever Mia wanted something or was unhappy, she would just lie in bed for a few days, and someone would eagerly deliver it to her. But this time, the one waiting for things to be delivered was me…

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The fifth year after my son’s birth, the stark truth finally hit me: my wife didn’t love me or our boy. To escape that miserable marriage, I decided to take our son and leave. Fate, however, had other plans. A car crash. I lost a kidney, and my son, an eye. In my despair, my usually aloof wife knelt before me, publicly begging for forgiveness, promising to be our rock for life. My son and I decided to give her a hundred-day trial. If she passed, we’d stay forever. But on the ninety-ninth day… My son and I stumbled upon my wife talking to the lead doctor. “Ms. Cliff, was it really worth it, deliberately causing that accident to save Mr. Vance’s child, and then taking organs from your husband and young master?” “It was worth it. As long as Steve is happy, I’d do anything.” “What if your husband and young master find out?” Ms. Cliff fell silent, her hand instinctively going to her wedding ring. Her voice, when it came, was chillingly calm. “Then they must never know. All they want is a home, don’t they? I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to them.” So, her supposed change of heart was just a meticulously crafted deception. The happiness my son and I thought we had found was a dream she’d spun to protect the one she truly cherished. Every gift, it turned out, came with a hidden price. 1 The office hummed with a sterile quiet as Clara Cliff meticulously reviewed the report the doctor handed her. A heavy weight lifted from her chest. “Sterling’s eye works wonderfully. Knowing Vance can be discharged now, I feel much better.” The doctor bristled, unable to hold back a reminder. “Ms. Cliff! Mr. Vance, as good a friend as he may be, is not your husband. You privately took an organ from your own son for him. If that were discovered, this entire hospital would be shut down. Is this truly worth it?” Clara’s gaze hardened. She slapped the report down on the desk. “Enough. It’s not your place to dictate what I do. Steve only has Sterling. How could I bear to just watch? It’s just an eye, after all. It doesn’t affect his life.” The doctor, enraged, challenged her directly. “Ms. Cliff, can you guarantee your husband and son will never know the truth? What will you do if they find out you almost killed them for Mr. Vance?” Clara fell silent. She pulled out her phone and gazed at the happy family photo on her wallpaper, her eyes clouded with an unreadable emotion. “They won’t know. I’ve hidden it well. And…” She extinguished the screen, her voice filled with a chilling certainty. “Julian and Caleb, they love me very much.” My hand, clutching my son’s, tightened. A bone-deep chill ran through me, shaking me uncontrollably. I still remember that day, my six-year-old son lying in the ICU bed, asking me with a blank stare, “Daddy, where’s my left eye? Why is it gone?” That day, I cried until my voice was hoarse, until my body convulsed, even wishing I could just die. I hated myself for taking my son away. Hated myself for not protecting him. Hated myself for being an unfit father. But it turned out, the one I should hate most was Clara Cliff. My son, too, clamped his hand over his mouth, unable to believe that the person who’d cost him his eye was his own mother. Clara closed the report, her voice bright with anticipation. “Since Steve and his boy are recovering well, they should be back soon. Arrange it. And remember, never let Julian find out.” Footsteps approached. My son and I scrambled to hide. But it was too late. Clara had seen us. “Julian? Caleb? What are you doing here?” 2 Clara’s voice was a frantic whisper, her breath catching in her throat with tension. My son and I exchanged a look, silently wiping away our tears. I took a deep breath, then turned, calm on the surface. “We came looking for you, figuring you’d been taking forever with that report. We got a bit lost, almost went the wrong way.” A sigh of relief escaped her, a smile almost touching her lips before my next words froze her. “What’s that in your hand? Is it my son’s and my medical report?” I stepped closer, reaching out to take it, my eyes fixed on her face. Clara’s gaze flickered, and she tucked the report behind her back. “We…we can look at it at home. No rush.” Watching her lips, now pale with anxiety, a flicker of sarcasm crossed my eyes. I withdrew my hand and, taking Caleb, turned to leave. Clara paused, then hurried to catch up, scooping Caleb into her arms. Just like she had for the past ninety-nine days, with tender affection. But Caleb didn’t wrap his arms around her neck as he usually did. His body was stiff, his eyes distant. Clara, oblivious, held him until we were in the car. It was only when she was checking his car seat that she spoke, seemingly casually. “Honey, do you remember Steve Vance? His boy was sick before, right? He’s all better now and preparing to come back to the country. He doesn’t have much family here. I was thinking, maybe he and his son could stay with us for a few days?” She watched my expression, adding, “Of course, it was just a thought. If you or Caleb object, then we won’t.” “I don’t mind. Bring them home.” Clara paused, then a smile quickly spread across her face. “Thank you, darling. You’re so kind. It’s my blessing to be married to you.” I didn’t smile. I just climbed into the back seat, pulling Caleb into my embrace. A tear flashed in my eye, unseen. Back home, Clara immediately found an excuse to leave. I knew she was rushing to arrange Steve Vance’s return. I used the opportunity to talk with Caleb. I wanted to take him away, as far from this sickening home as possible, never to see Clara again. Caleb didn’t object. He just silently tore up the diary on his desk. It chronicled every day since the accident, of Clara with us. Day 1 of the accident, my eye was gone. I asked Daddy where it fell, but Daddy just cried and didn’t say anything. Mommy cried too. She hugged me for the first time and said she would be my eyes from now on. Day 3 of the accident, Mommy came to take care of Daddy and me every day. She said she loved Daddy and me very, very much, and wanted to be our support for the rest of our lives. I told her I loved her very, very much too. Mommy cried again. Day 21 of the accident, I was discharged. Ethan found out my secret and all the kids at kindergarten started calling me ‘one-eyed freak.’ They said I was disgusting and wouldn’t play with me anymore. I cried in the storage room for a long time. But it’s okay, Daddy and Mommy love me very much. Day 25 of the accident, Dr. Sterling gave me a toy eye. Mommy said no one would make fun of me anymore. I showed the eye to Ethan and told him I wasn’t disgusting. But Ethan poked my eye with a pencil and said I was a monster, that my eye couldn’t hurt. … Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably. I hugged Caleb close, my heart breaking, and sobbed. “Caleb, Daddy will take you away, okay?” My son touched his cold, prosthetic eye, his eyes red, and nodded. “Okay.” 3 I set my phone to a twenty-four-hour countdown. Time to pack. Every moment we stayed was another wound to my son. Countdown: twenty-one hours. I took Caleb to kindergarten to complete the withdrawal process. At the principal’s office, I was about to knock when I heard a familiar voice from inside. “Is…is Sterling doing okay? Does his eye still bother him?” Steve Vance chuckled, his eyes sparkling. “The doctor said Sterling is recovering beautifully, and the eye feels very comfortable. Clara, I really owe you so much.” Clara curved her lips, her smile genuine. “As long as you’re happy, I’d do anything.” Steve glanced at her, then said meaningfully, “What about your husband? If he knew Sterling was using Caleb’s eye, wouldn’t he be upset? Clara, I don’t want to cause you any trouble.” His familiar tone made me want to vomit. Steve Vance had always been like this—taking all the benefits yet pretending to be utterly innocent, making people fall over themselves to please him. Five years ago, on my son’s first birthday, Steve, whose birthday wasn’t even that day, deliberately posted about celebrating alone on social media to steal Clara’s attention. She abandoned my son and me at the birthday party, running off to spend the entire night with him. Before she left, I begged her to wait, at least to finish the party with our son. But she, worried about Steve’s loneliness, simply handed Caleb to a waiter and told me not to cause a scene. My eyes welled up. I was about to leave when the tardy principal walked past me and pushed the door open. Seeing my son and me, a flicker of panic crossed Clara’s eyes. “When did you arrive? Why didn’t you knock?” Noticing my gaze on Steve Vance, she quickly explained. “Darling, don’t misunderstand. I only just found out Steve had already brought Sterling back. We just ran into each other, and I was just helping them register for kindergarten, you…” “I understand.” I cut her off, turning with my son. Steve Vance, however, called out to me with a confident, sunny smile. “Julian, long time no see.” He pulled the little boy next to him forward and introduced him to my son. “Caleb, this is your older brother, Sterling. Say hello. You two have a special connection.” The boy leaned in, staring curiously at my son’s eye. Then, with a look of distaste, he said, “Daddy, his eye is fake. It’s disgusting.” Caleb’s face instantly paled, and he shrank behind me, ashamed. My whole body trembled with fury. But Clara, perfectly timed, stepped in front of Steve Vance and said awkwardly, “Darling, don’t be angry. Sterling didn’t mean it. He’s just a child, he doesn’t understand anything. We adults don’t need to argue with a child, do we?” Her words were entirely in defense of Steve Vance’s son. Caleb stared at her blankly, disbelief in his eyes. Just yesterday, Clara had flown into a rage over a single mocking word directed at our son. Now, she was brazenly protecting the person who had mocked him. It seemed that with a different person, her attitude changed completely. At that thought, the light in my son’s eyes dimmed. I had no more patience. I took Caleb’s hand and left. Clara was left staring frantically at our retreating backs until Steve Vance called her name four or five times before she reluctantly came back to herself. Countdown: nineteen hours.

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So, I got divorced. Three years ago, my shallow, looks-obsessed self agreed to a business marriage, all for the sake of Alexander Croft’s face. We signed a contract, a three-year deal. The bastard signed the papers and then vanished. I’d see him maybe once a year. He wouldn’t answer my calls, wouldn’t return my texts. I couldn’t even touch his hand. It was like being a widow while he was still alive. Even the hottest fire would turn to ice. So, the second our time was up, I couldn’t wait to shove the divorce papers in his face. But you know what he did? He just stared at me for a long moment and said, “You’re right, but the speed of light is 299,792 kilometers per second, a single chip can have billions of transistors, and humans evolved from apes, which is why sharks can’t ride horses.” “…The what?” “So, after we’re divorced… can I ask you out?” “…?” 1. Today was the day. I was divorcing Alexander Croft. To celebrate this glorious occasion, I dragged myself out of bed at the crack of nine, wriggled to the edge of the mattress like a worm, and slithered off the bed. I crawled my way to the bathroom in the shadows to brush my teeth and give my face a quick power-wash, then slid down the banister with a triumphant whoosh. A perfect landing. Ten out of ten! My parents and I never saw eye to eye on anything, from the proper way to descend a staircase to what I should major in at college. They provided for me, but they never understood me. Alexander was the same. In three years of marriage, he’d avoided me like I was radioactive. No hand-holding, no arm around my waist. We were in a state of perpetual cold war, twenty-five hours a day. I usually just called him “that ghost.” Because he’d left me to be a living widow for three years. Though, to his credit, he’d provided me with a gorgeous villa and a wonderfully attentive housekeeper, Mrs. Gable. She knew my morning routine and always had breakfast waiting on the table: a spread of fresh pastries, bagels, a fruit parfait, and half a corn on the cob. I grabbed the corn and took a bite. Yep, perfect temperature. My favorite kind, sweet and crunchy. A shame I wouldn’t be eating her cooking anymore. She was Alexander’s employee, after all. He’d barely set foot in this villa in three years. We’d only seen each other a grand total of three times: our wedding, his grandfather’s birthday gala, and once when I ran into him on a business trip while I was on vacation. I married him for his looks, even forcing myself to act like some prim and proper debutante for weeks before the wedding, only to see him less than once a year. And the man had the audacity to be a stickler for the rules, adding a “no-cheating” clause to our contract. While all my single friends were out flirting with cute guys, I was stuck at home, cuddling my hamster. My mistake. I never should have let a pretty face sway me. Still, the villa was huge. I could sleep in the master bedroom, on the living room couch, or on the ceiling if I wanted. And he was never stingy with the allowance for me and my hamster. Over three years, we both got a little rounder. Especially the hamster. He went from a furry pancake to a furry little sphere. Munching on my corn, I fed my hamster a tiny piece of a scone from a delicate porcelain dish. I left the rest of the food for Mrs. Gable, plucked a decorative flower from the breakfast arrangement, and tucked it behind my ear. Damn, I’m gorgeous, I thought with a sigh. I checked the time. Still early. I pulled out my phone and called my best friend. “Nina, you hitting the club tonight? Count me in.” Her voice was a mix of surprise and pure joy. “For real, Sylvie? Are you finally free?!” “You bet!” I said, striking a proud pose with a hand on my hip. “I’m a free woman!” “The three-year sentence is up! All hail the returning queen!” I could hear a sound like happy seal-clapping from the other end. “Just you wait. I know a few new models… six-foot-two, abs for days. I’ll book ’em for you right now!” “Heh, you know me so well…” The thought of being surrounded by handsome men, free to touch and admire, sent a wave of pure bliss through me. I started doing a happy little wiggle dance right there on the floor. But then, Nina’s voice turned serious. “But! No more making the models do your calculus homework for you!” What? Who, me? I would never. “I know what you’re thinking,” she said. “And yes, you would.” “…” Fine. I just like seeing handsome guys look all helpless and confused! 2. After the call, I grabbed the divorce papers I’d prepared long ago and had the driver take me to the ghost’s corporate headquarters. His assistant, Mr. Davis, heard I was coming and quickly escorted me to a meeting room to wait. But the place was a total bore. The sunflower seeds and bottled water they offered weren’t up to my hamster’s standards. I restlessly paced around, flattening myself against the wall a few times before deciding to go check on the employees. My family’s company has business with the Croft Corporation, so it was perfectly reasonable for me to be inspecting the workforce. It was almost lunchtime, and that half-cob of corn was a distant memory. My stomach was growling, so I grabbed a bowl of sunflower seeds and strolled into the main office area, cracking them as I went. The employees were all working diligently. I was pleased. The ghost might be a ghost, but he had a good eye for talent. No wonder my dad had pushed for me to marry him instead of some other CEO’s son from the Williams or Peterson families. But for such a huge office, where were the trash cans? What was I supposed to do with all these shells… Just as I was pondering this, a sharp, confident-looking young woman came striding toward me, her heels clicking decisively on the polished floor. She looked familiar, but I couldn’t place her. Based on that rhythmic clicking, I’d bet a sunflower seed she’d studied percussion. She stopped right in front of me, looking annoyed. “This is work hours, and you’re just standing here eating sunflower seeds?” “Hm?” I tilted my head, thinking. Oh. She had a point. I shouldn’t be standing. So I sat down on the floor. I’m a guest, after all. A guest shouldn’t have to stand while eating sunflower seeds! Sitting is the proper etiquette! The woman froze, completely thrown off. For a moment, she was speechless. “You… you…” She finally sputtered, “What department are you in? Slacking off and wandering around during work hours!” Ah, she thought I was an employee. That explained it. She’d probably die of embarrassment if she knew who I was. Being the considerate person I am, I decided not to call her out directly. I just gave her a little hint. “What department are you a manager in? How can you not even recognize your own staff?” Get a clue, pretty lady. I’m just passing through! But my hint landed like a challenge. She stomped her foot, her voice tight with anger. “You’re the one Grandpa sent, aren’t you?! I knew they wouldn’t let me have a peaceful internship! It’s only been a few days, and you’re already here to make trouble for me!” “…” Whoa. All I did was a basic attack, and she used her ultimate ability. But her outburst jogged my memory. This naive firecracker was Alexander’s younger sister. I’d seen her at his grandfather’s birthday gala, but I’d forgotten her name. Back then, she was dressed to the nines, every smile and gesture radiating the innocent vivacity of a young girl raised in a bubble. A sheltered little princess. She was actually kind of cute. Just then, Mr. Davis rushed over. He looked at me sitting on the floor, then at his boss’s fuming sister, and was completely at a loss. With my ten years of novel-reading experience, I could tell he was already scripting a tragic romance in his head: I love him, he doesn’t love me, and his cruel sister is bullying me. Too bad. I’m just a certified nutcase. Alexander and I were never in love, and I sat on the floor all by myself. “Is Alexander free?” I asked the assistant. “Yes, the President just finished his meeting,” Davis replied. “Ma’am, are you…?” “Oh, just taking a seat.” I cracked another seed. “This floor is so clean. Am I not allowed to sit on it?” “…You are. Please, make yourself comfortable.” Davis was clearly a man of culture. I approved. But right now, the divorce was my top priority. Since the ghost was available, I didn’t want to waste any more time. 3. I handed Davis a napkin, placed my hamster and the pile of seed shells onto it, and then snatched up my divorce papers, happily skipping back to the meeting room. I left the assistant and the Croft princess staring at each other. The princess looked bewildered. “Mr. Davis, who is she?” Davis hesitated for a moment before replying, “A legend.” My hamster wriggled in his hand. He forced a tight smile, looking utterly confused. “Why did she give me the hamster? And why on a napkin?” “Because he poops,” I called out, poking my head back out of the room. “…” “If he does, just swap out the napkin. In the meantime, you can pet him all you want.” With that, I ducked back into the room, meeting Alexander’s complicated gaze. I had to admit, the man was distractingly handsome. But the moment I remembered he wouldn’t let me touch him—or anyone else—my heart grew colder than a fishmonger’s blade. I slapped the divorce papers down on the table. Alexander ignored them. “You said someone poops?” “Don’t you?” I retorted. “…” You know, the person who first questioned whether humans poop was a true genius. And I, for one, am a genius. Hehe. As I stood there with my hands on my hips, looking smug, Alexander’s expression soured, like he’d just eaten a chocolate bar filled with bitter melon. The bizarre look seriously detracted from his otherwise top-tier attractiveness. “…” Okay, maybe not hehe. But I was used to it. At least sixty percent of people I talk to end up with that same expression. So just sign the papers, ghost. We’re not on the same wavelength. We’ll never be happy! Under my expectant gaze, Alexander finally looked down at the papers. He was quiet for a moment, then asked, “Do we really have to get divorced?” “Even though it makes no difference whether we’re married or not,” I answered without a second thought, “for the sake of getting my hands on some handsome men, yes, we absolutely must.” “…” He looked up at me. “You’re right, but the speed of light is 299,792 kilometers per second, a single chip can have billions of transistors, and humans evolved from apes, which is why sharks can’t use smartphones.” My brain short-circuited. I had no idea what he was talking about. “What?” “So, after we’re divorced… can I ask you out?” “…” Hold on, buddy. We never met before the wedding, you wouldn’t let me touch you after, and now that we’re divorcing, you’re asking if you can date me? Have you lost your mind? And I said as much. To which Alexander replied, “Can’t I?” His question was so matter-of-fact. My silence was deafening. I couldn’t imagine that someone who looked at me like he’d just swallowed a weird concoction could ever occupy the same padded cell as me. And I was done being swayed by his face. Three years of widowhood had turned my heart into a block of ancient ice. I needed a new, fiery-hot pretty boy to thaw it out. Under my dead-eyed stare, Alexander silently signed the divorce papers. When he was done, he said again, “I was wrong to ignore you before. I hope you’ll give me a chance to pursue you.” “No,” I refused, righteously. “That would interfere with my quality time with male models.” And just like that, the silence buff was passed back to Alexander. “Male models?” “Yes. Male models.” Thinking about the pictures Nina had sent me—all those gorgeous men with perfect faces and sculpted bodies—I let out a creepy, delighted cackle. When I went back to retrieve my hamster, I found Mr. Davis frozen like a statue. The second he saw me, he quickly shut off his phone screen and resumed his petrified state. I took the hamster from his hand and gave him a little poke. What was wrong with this guy? My hamster hadn’t turned into Medusa, had he?

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When Liam accompanied me to set off fireworks at sea to celebrate my birthday, a phone call lured him away. He never returned that night. In the quiet, empty expanse of the night, my loneliness didn’t last long. Mia, a female artist under his agency, posted an explosive social media update. It was a photo of a man and a woman’s hands intertwined on a bed. The caption read: “Saw the most beautiful white fireworks tonight. Thank you to my boss.” I knew then that I never wanted to see fireworks again. The love story between Liam and me was finally reaching its end. 1. “Ms. Hastings, this is the fake death service plan we’ve customized for you. It includes practical scheduling and arrangements based on your proposed boat explosion scenario. Please review it and let us know if you’re satisfied.” I took the proposal, skimmed it, and signed my name with a flourish. Seeing my decisiveness, the staff member couldn’t hide his surprise: “Honestly, many people still hesitate a bit at this stage. There are a lot of factors to consider. You are truly bold.” “Especially the scenario you requested… that’s an incredibly expensive, luxury yacht.” “And because of the fame you and Mr. Sterling share, the coast where that yacht is moored has become a highly popular landmark for couples on dates and singles seeking romance.” “Are you sure you won’t regret blowing it up just like that?” I lowered my eyes, my expression darkening. Regret it? Maybe a little. That yacht was Liam’s eighteenth birthday gift to me, worth nearly forty million dollars. And Liam was only eighteen himself at the time. At such a young age, such a grand gesture immediately dominated the entertainment news headlines, causing a sensation across the city. I was both shocked and playfully scolding him: “How could you be so impulsive, spending so much money all at once…” Liam pressed his fingertips against my lips, then smoothed out my slightly furrowed brow: “Don’t mention money. No amount of gold can buy my happiness. You should give our boat a name.” Since his public declaration of love had shaken the whole city, my answer slipped out naturally: “Love of a Lifetime.” On that night, with the moon bright and the wind gentle, Liam and I sailed out to sea on the Love of a Lifetime to celebrate my coming of age. Brilliant fireworks bloomed against the night sky, loud and fiery. I hugged him tightly, my left ear pressed against his chest, feeling his heartbeat, which was more vigorous and passionate than the fireworks. In our youth, we stood at the bow of the ship. Mimicking the characters from the movie Titanic, we shouted: “I am the king of the world!” “I am the queen of the world!” “You jump!” “I jump!” That night, we lingered in each other’s arms on the boat until the horizon began to glow with the hazy light of dawn. I felt myself completely melt, becoming the dancing waves beneath him. Liam and I were childhood sweethearts, inseparable since we were kids, naturally falling into a teenage romance. But I still felt that the night on the yacht when we turned eighteen was the true beginning of our love. Because that was the first time we connected physically as adults, and we solemnly promised to love each other for a lifetime. So, what that ship carried, besides our most inextricably sweet and passionate memories, was also my most fervent and earnest longing for our future. But… Last night, during our annual celebration on the boat, he was called away by someone else. I watched the loud, grand fireworks all alone, but my heart was as dim and desolate as the dark night that followed. Liam never came back. In the quiet, empty expanse of the long night, my loneliness didn’t last long. Mia, a female artist under his agency, posted an explosive social media update. It was a photo of a man and a woman’s hands intertwined on a bed. I had known Liam for so many years; I had held his hand since we were kids. It was as familiar to me as my own. So, I immediately recognized the man’s hand in the photo as his. Moreover, Mia’s caption directly called him out: “Saw the most beautiful white fireworks tonight. Thank you to my boss.” 2. There was no wind or waves, yet I still felt myself swaying. The storm inside me grew more intense, threatening to smash this huge ship to pieces and swallow me whole. I felt dizzy and disoriented, but I fought back the nausea. I thought about my past with Liam, and I thought about his intimacy with someone else. After the yacht birthday party back then, the romance of our eighteen-year-old selves became known to everyone in Seattle. The public, in a clichéd yet fairy-tale-like way, dubbed us the Princess and Prince of Seattle. At eighteen, I had already been discovered by a talent scout and debuted as a singer, so I stayed in Seattle for college. And Liam, in order to accompany me, forcefully rejected his family’s plans for him to study abroad, stubbornly choosing the university I attended. No matter how much others, or even I, tried to persuade him, he refused to leave. At that time, he said to me: “Any time spent without you is a waste to me. I don’t want to waste my life, not even for a single day.” During college, we were seen together every day, drawing everyone’s attention wherever we went. After graduation, to boost my career, Liam founded an entertainment company. He essentially stepped half-foot into the entertainment industry to build a career with me. We were still inseparable. Our love truly became a fairy tale whispered in the streets and alleys of Seattle. But it turns out, there are no fairy tales in the real world. I never thought that the relationship between Liam and me would be tainted by the typical decay found in the entertainment industry. During our twenty-eighth year, my world tour kept Liam and me apart for half a year. And in that blank space of my absence, Liam found someone else to spice up his life. Just like he had once gifted me a yacht. When Mia first appeared before my eyes, I was so shocked I couldn’t recover for a long time. That was only a few days ago. I had traveled a long distance to return from abroad. But among the people cheering and welcoming me at the airport, Liam was noticeably missing. Without a moment’s rest, I rushed to find him. In Liam’s office at the company. Her hand was intimately hooked with his, the glimpse of cleavage from her deep-V dress almost pressing against his face. Seeing me enter, they both panicked for a moment and pulled apart. But an indescribable, ambiguous scent lingered in the air. I didn’t say a word, just pulled a long face and slammed the door as I left. And Liam didn’t chase after me. My fury unabated, I didn’t go home that day but stayed in a hotel. It grew completely dark, and Liam still hadn’t contacted me. Sitting in the dark, my mind was a chaotic mess. Who was that woman? What exactly was her relationship with Liam? And before I pushed that door open, what were the two of them doing in the office? In the hazy confusion of the darkness, I remembered the way Liam looked at her. I remembered their disheveled clothes, the sneaky atmosphere in the office… And Liam’s neglect and coldness toward me. I had just walked away. He ignored me, didn’t even make a single phone call. A bone-deep disappointment enveloped me. Just then, a crisp sound echoed, sounding almost like the breaking of my own heart. It was a knock on the door. Liam had finally come. I moved toward the dark doorway, hesitated, and didn’t open the door. He turned and left without much persistence, leaving me in further disbelief. I slumped weakly against the door to the floor. I didn’t understand what was happening to us. How could everything have changed just because I left him for half a year? But just as tears streaked my face, I received a message from him. It was an aerial video. The dazzling large screens all over the city were displaying my photos, along with slogans congratulating me on the perfect conclusion of my world tour and welcoming me home… Then, brilliant fireworks bloomed outside the window. I ran over to look, and suddenly saw Liam’s figure under the night sky. He stood beneath my window, looking up with a gaze of foolish devotion, his dark eyes shimmering with tears. So, he didn’t come to find me immediately because he was busy doing all this? But was this a temporary apology or a pre-planned surprise? My phone rang again. On the phone, Liam said: “Please stop being mad at me, okay? I know you’re tired, and my heart aches seeing you tortured by these emotions.” My heart felt a mix of sour, sweet, bitter, and spicy, an incredibly uncomfortable feeling. I couldn’t understand how he could flirt with someone else while being so attentive to me. With no answer and unable to speak, I simply hung up the phone. But the icon of the entertainment app on my phone suddenly showed countless red notification dots. I clicked it. Unsurprisingly, Liam celebrating my return to the city was trending. The internet was flooded with comments of praise and envy: “Mom, I made it! I’m witnessing the magical romance between the CEO and the female star again.” “Mr. Sterling and Chloe are so sweet together. I’m willing to believe in love again.” “The fireworks are too flashy, Mr. Sterling and Chloe are too sweet. It’s so beautiful it revived this exhausted corporate slave working overtime.” … Most of these comments came from the “shippers” of Liam and me. I was very familiar with the usernames and avatars of those top fans. They were all good friends who had accompanied Liam and me along the way. Even they were so emotionally invested in our love, so my heart softened again. I rushed downstairs and tightly hugged Liam’s cold body, sobbing uncontrollably in his arms. “You made me angry today.” Liam wrapped his arms around me, burying his head in the crook of my neck, taking a deep breath as if craving my warmth: “If I hold you like this, are you still mad?” I bit my lip, staying silent. He kissed me gently: “It was my fault for forgetting to pick you up at the airport today, but there really is nothing between Mia and me. We’ve been together for so many years, don’t you trust me?” I believed him. But for the next few days, Liam became extremely busy. He would stay with me for a short while before getting a phone call, then use an emergency at work as an excuse to leave. Meanwhile, I was busy preparing for the final concert of my tour in Seattle. As a result, we rarely had time to be intimate together. I was conflicted, and my suspicions about what Liam was doing resurfaced. Yet, I didn’t know if I should make a scene again, or if I was truly making a mountain out of a molehill. Until yesterday, my twenty-eighth birthday. He decorated our Love of a Lifetime yacht with great care, making it look exceptionally beautiful. It was adorned everywhere with pink and purple ribbons and balloons. A massive display of Floyd roses spelled out our names. Liam popped the champagne himself, his eyes radiant: “Let’s remember every important day in our lives. Happy birthday, Chloe.” I thought he had been busy planning this surprise for me the past few days, and all my suppressed unhappiness was swept away. But when the fireworks bloomed, he lied and left once again, rushing toward someone else. The bubbles in the champagne were still fizzing upwards, like sounds growing within the wine. But the next second, the sea breeze scrambled that sound. I tilted my head back and downed the champagne… It turns out that many things are just like the foam in this wine—they surge to life for a moment, and then vanish without a trace. Then, Mia posted that social media update… It was as if the Sword of Damocles, which had been hanging over my head, finally fell. Liam had truly betrayed me! My mind went blank, seemingly visualizing the “white fireworks” belonging to Liam that Mia had mentioned. I knew then that I never wanted to see fireworks again. I never wanted to step onto that boat again. The love story between Liam and me was finally reaching its end. 3. At the fake death agency, before I could answer the staff member’s question about whether I felt regret, I suddenly received a call from Liam. The voice on the other end was full of tension and concern: “Chloe, where did you go? Didn’t we agree to have dinner at my parents’ house today? Why aren’t you home yet?” I took a deep breath. How I wanted to scream at Liam that I wasn’t coming home because he hadn’t come home for the entire night! Even if he used a fire in the company practice room and people being trapped as an excuse, I still knew what he did all night. Because last night, I also received a call from the female protagonist of that “accident,” Mia—perhaps calling it a live broadcast of his infidelity would be more accurate. On the phone, Liam and Mia’s voices intertwined. Each sound formed a massive net that blotted out the sky and heavily ensnared my heart. Liam’s voice was coarse and obscene in a way I had never heard before: “You dared to set a fire just to seduce me? Are you really not afraid I’ll have you thrown in jail?!” Mia just laughed: “Right now, Mr. Sterling, it’s you who has ‘gone in’.” Liam began to exert more force: “You caused trouble to seduce me back here, so you must bear the consequences yourself!” “Weren’t you acting crazy and giving it your all just now? Why are you moaning so weakly now, as if I’m forcing you?” Mia’s voice sounded pitiful, a mix of laughter and crying: “Does Mr. Sterling like me like this?” “I love it. That’s why I couldn’t bear to stay away.” … Like a fish caught in a net, experiencing a suffocating dull pain, I struggled through listening to over an hour of betrayal. After a long groan from Liam, the sound of running water came from the bathroom. Then came Mia’s satiated, sharp, and venomous provocation: “How was it, Ms. Hastings? Did you enjoy listening?” “I’m just being kind. Mr. Sterling told me you are rigid and boring in bed, so I’m giving you a chance to learn.” My mind was already at the breaking point. I had no energy, nor did I want to argue with her. But her words were truly sickening, so I gritted my teeth and let out a cold sneer: “I also think Miss Mia has a real talent in this area. You’d definitely have a grand career as an adult actress. Why bother being a singer here?” Mia laughed too, deliberately making her words vague and suggestive: “You don’t need to mock me. It’s my skill that keeps Mr. Sterling fascinated by my body.” “That’s why he spent so much money to sign me to his company, keeping me by his side every moment… anytime, anywhere…” I felt all the blood in my body turn cold. It seemed all the seawater rushed into my veins at that moment, making my head swell and my teeth chatter from the chill: “You think that’s love?” Mia laughed wantonly: “Why wouldn’t it be love?” “People say you can’t exchange true feelings for true feelings, but effort definitely exchanges for sound.” “You heard how loud we were screaming. It’s been a long, long time since Mr. Sterling put this much effort into you, hasn’t it? He loves me far deeper than he loves you.” “Besides, Mr. Sterling gives me money, resources, and connections. He’s very dedicated to helping me climb up.” “You probably don’t know this, but as soon as he signed me, he gave me major productions. I’m already the most popular female singer in Seattle.” “Oh, and that yacht symbolizing your ‘love of a lifetime’—I have one too.” “During the half-year you left Seattle, Mr. Sterling and I were intimately entangled on the boat he bought for me.” “My new boat is bigger and more luxurious. Your boat is old now, and so are you.” “So, I will completely replace you very soon. In bed, in your career, in life… in every aspect.” Every word she spoke felt like concentrated sulfuric acid, splashing heavily onto my heart, burning my skin and flesh. I never imagined my Liam would fall in love with someone else. Even more unimaginable was that Liam and Mia had only known each other for half a year, yet he could devote himself so fully to her! So what were the past twenty years between Liam and me? What was his promise at eighteen? What was our grand ship, the Love of a Lifetime? Or did the tragedy begin when we mimicked Jack and Rose’s sweet words? It turns out there are sudden disasters in this world, sudden partings, and naturally, sudden losses of love. The Titanic sank, and so would our Love of a Lifetime. After a night of agonizing reflection. Perhaps Mia was right. My ship was old, and so was I. But the Liam she had used was old now too. Then let’s discard all the old things. Whether it was the old yacht or the unfaithful Liam, I didn’t want them anymore. And to achieve this goal as quickly as possible, I brought myself to the fake death agency. I was going to blow up that ship. It seemed I had to use such a tragic and grand method to make Liam understand exactly what he had lost. 4. The extreme desolation in my heart had truly made me forget about the dinner with Liam’s parents. Until Liam called me. Although his heart had strayed and I decided to cut all ties with him, Liam’s parents watched me grow up and were very close to me. So, I decided to suppress all the displeasure in my heart and go to this dinner properly. To say a proper goodbye. Thus, I swallowed the sarcasm that almost blurted out to Liam: “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen your parents. I’m preparing a gift. You don’t need to wait for me; I’ll head over there myself later.” “You’re always the most thoughtful and considerate.” Liam’s voice, which had just carried a hint of nervous tension, relaxed. I didn’t know why he was so nervous. Did he realize he couldn’t find me? Or was he feeling guilty about his absurd night with someone else? But that didn’t matter to me anymore. The story between us had already ended with his betrayal. Therefore, not wanting to waste any more time, I spoke decisively to the agency staff: “The yacht must be blown up. I don’t want people to continue flocking to a symbol of deteriorated and fake love. It’s best blown to pieces; there’s nothing to regret.” “Alright, the plan will be executed in three days. If there are no issues, please sign here.” “Okay.” Without any further hesitation, I signed my name with sharp, decisive strokes. From eighteen to twenty-eight, exactly ten years. Time has passed, and everything is so different now. The me of ten years ago absolutely never imagined that ten years later, Liam and I would fall apart so completely. And in such a resolute way. I buried my love for Liam in my heart. Let the sea also bury the ship that carried our most beautiful memories and our deep promises to each other. Let the story end exactly where it began. Turn the starting point into the breaking point.

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I’m a traditional girl with an amazing figure. When I had a fever, my boyfriend who came to take care of me said he wanted to come in and “feel it.” After I refused him, he sulked for three days. My best friend said sexual intimacy between adults is normal, and that I was being too much of a puritan. So today, when I saw him park his Tesla out the window, I gathered up my courage and put on a three-piece Victoria’s Secret lingerie set. The door opened, and I threw myself at him with my eyes closed. “Honey, you’re back~” My boyfriend reacted quickly, his burning heat making its presence known. I was just about to thrust my hips forward. When a low, hoarse voice—belonging to my best friend’s fiancé—came from above my head. “It’s me. You’ve got the wrong person.” 1 Hearing the voice, I was absolutely stunned. I scrambled out of his embrace in a panic, so embarrassed I didn’t know where to cover up. Large swathes of exposed skin burned with humiliation. I hurriedly grabbed a trench coat off the sofa and draped it over myself. “Mr. Sterling, why are you here?” Alexander looked away. His side profile was handsome, his aura cold and noble. Under the dim light of the sconce, the tips of his ears seemed flushed red. “It’s Valentine’s Day. I came to drop something off for Chloe.” He was indeed holding a beautifully wrapped box. A Patek Philippe watch. So expensive! I couldn’t help but sigh inwardly. But unfortunately, Chloe never wore watches. Chloe and I met in college. She was the queen of her sorority, and my best friend. Even after graduation, we rented apartments right across from each other in Brooklyn. Alexander Sterling was the fiancé she talked about every single day. And the aloof CEO of the Manhattan gaming company I worked for. Thinking of this, I panicked even more. But when I looked down, I saw the obvious bulge between his long legs, wrapped in his bespoke Savile Row suit. The sensation of being pressed against his lower abdomen suddenly came rushing back. My cheeks were burning. Alexander noticed my gaze and turned his back to me, his posture a bit stiff. “I was just dropping by to tell you, when I walked past your desk after work, it looked like your MacBook was unplugged.” “…It’s nothing, I’ll be leaving now.” As soon as the door closed, I let out a massive sigh of relief. Then his words finally registered in my brain. The sky was falling! If my laptop was off, what about the renders?! I quickly pulled out my iPhone to check the remote app. Only to find the rendering was proceeding normally. Did Alexander see it wrong? Whatever, it was a false alarm. At least I could relax now. I couldn’t help but cover my blushing face with my collar, wishing I could slap myself. How was I supposed to face him and Chloe after this? 2 I had just looked up when I realized my door wasn’t completely shut. Through the crack, I saw Chloe open her door for Alexander. She hooked her arm through his, pleasantly surprised, pouting flirtatiously. “Why are you here? Didn’t you say you were busy with work? So you were planning to surprise me!” “Is this a gift for me? Thank you!” Alexander let her pull him, lifting the item in his hand. “Sponsored by a Wall Street brand, I just brought one over since I was on the way.” He was always like this—an absolute, unapologetic workaholic straight man. That’s what Chloe told me. Chloe had known him since they were kids. They were childhood sweethearts from matched Upper East Side old money families. Chloe had chased him for two or three years. But they only got engaged three months ago. Their families had met and dined together at a Michelin-starred restaurant. Although he would have his assistant send gifts and flowers for every major holiday, he didn’t understand romance. He always claimed he was busy with work, repeatedly rejecting Chloe’s invitations for a date. Valentine’s Day was no exception. For him to personally deliver a gift this time… it really was just like Chloe said. Even the coldest ice would eventually melt. Therefore, even though Alexander’s delivery was stiff and he gave her something she didn’t even like, Chloe was still ecstatic. She blinked her bright eyes, blushing as she invited him inside. But after she took the box, he simply pulled his arm away. “No, I have a transnational conference call tonight.” Chloe instantly deflated, biting her lip and stepping closer. “We’re engaged. It’s Valentine’s night, and all you want to do is work?” “You weren’t like this before.” “In college, you didn’t even want to study in Europe because of me. You even coded an animated confession for me.” “But ever since you came back from Harvard Business School, you’ve been so cold.” Her voice was low and thin, her eyes a little red. “You won’t even kiss me now.” Their voices carried clearly through the crack in the door. I clenched my fists, feeling a bit angry on Chloe’s behalf. How could a fiancé be so cold! Alexander remained silent. I couldn’t see his expression, but he just flatly dropped a sentence: “It’s getting late. I’m leaving.” As he stepped into the elevator, he glanced towards my side, scaring me into quickly shutting the door tight. 3 After returning inside, I curled up on the sofa and continued waiting for my boyfriend. But I didn’t expect Chloe to come over first. The first time I saw her, I felt guilty and defensive. My parents divorced early on, and I was dumped in rural Ohio, fostered at my aunt’s house. They treated me well, but the sensitivity of living under someone else’s roof and the emotional lack never faded. In my freshman year, Aunt Mary sent me homemade beef jerky. My roommates thought it looked ugly and mocked me for being a hillbilly from a trailer park. Only Chloe stood up for me. “What, the steaks you eat aren’t raised by farmers? Stop acting so high and mighty.” She smelled the jerky and smiled at me warmly. “Smells great. Give me the ones they don’t want, I want to take them home to eat this weekend!” Chloe defended me like that, and opened her heart to me. Even though I dressed in a very country way, guys surprisingly hit on me quite often. She was afraid I’d get tricked, so she always strictly vetted them for me. Playboys, jerks, scum. Because of her, I avoided a lot of frat boys with bad intentions. Occasionally, when girls suddenly showed me goodwill, she’d tell me to be careful, saying she’d heard them talking trash about me. So for four years of college, we stuck together. One true friendship beats countless fake ones. I was never lonely. The more I thought about it, the more guilty and ashamed I felt. I was so sorry. I had to let today’s incident rot in my stomach and forget it completely! Chloe skipped inside, smiling as she raised the watch on her wrist. “Alexander personally delivered it. Designer, tens of thousands of dollars. Does it look good?” I nodded vigorously. “It looks beautiful.” She curled her lips into a smile. “Alexander and I are childhood sweethearts. No one understands him better than I do. He loves me to death. He acts distant on the outside, but he’s incredibly passionate in private.” “The reason he doesn’t want to live with me is out of respect.” This was Chloe’s usual narrative. She always told me how good Alexander was to her, how much he loved her. I had always believed it before. Maybe Alexander just wasn’t good at expressing his feelings. I hugged her arm and acted cute. “Yes, yes, yes. You two are a perfect match. When you get married, you’ll be Mrs. Sterling. You’ll give me a promotion at the company then, right?” Chloe poked my forehead. “Don’t worry, you’re my best bridesmaid. I won’t do you wrong.” Saying that, her sharp eyes caught the lingerie fabric peeking out from under my trench coat, and the large spread of food on the coffee table. She covered her mouth in surprise. “Oh my, I just made a casual suggestion, and you’re really going all out to keep Carter around.” My face flushed red, and I squeezed my hands awkwardly. 4 Carter Hayes was introduced to me by Chloe. She said he was different from the others, a really great guy. He pursued me passionately, and eventually, I softened. Three months ago, we got together. He was a gentleman, considerate—the model of a perfect boyfriend. Normally speaking, sexual intimacy between adults is perfectly fine. But on our first night, I was working late on a project and caught a fever. I asked him to help me get some medicine and a thermometer. Instead, he only brought back a box of condoms, leaning in to whisper ambiguously in my ear. “I heard that when your body temperature is high, it feels completely different. Should we try?” I pushed him away, gagging, and from then on, I heavily resisted getting intimate with him. Carter apologized with self-blame the next day. I accepted it. Recently, he said that accommodating my emotions was too tiring and he wanted to break up. I panicked. In my life, besides work, there was only him and Chloe. I didn’t want to lose either of them. So when I heard Chloe casually mention the ‘honey trap’ tactic that day, I took it seriously. “It’s really pretty. That kid Carter is so lucky. His girlfriend is a good cook and has great taste in the bedroom.” Chloe’s words interrupted my thoughts. “If you had done this earlier, he’d be clinging to you like glue. He wouldn’t bear to leave you out in the cold.” I pursed my lips shyly. “But my body isn’t that great, and I’m a little chubby.” A meaningful look flashed in Chloe’s eyes. She pushed me in front of the full-length mirror. It reflected me, and the dainty, exquisite her. “So what? Even if your body is average and your looks are ordinary, in the eyes of the person who loves you, you’re the best.” Chloe was always so understanding and comforting like this. “Alright, I won’t disturb your sweet time.” “Carter is a top-tier boyfriend. I’ve known him for years, I know him inside and out. Don’t worry, he loves you to death.” I embarrassedly replied with an “Mm.” 5 When the apartment quieted down, I suddenly remembered something. Carter’s car had pulled into the parking lot ages ago. Why wasn’t he up here yet? I called him. His voice sounded slightly frustrated. “The AC filter in the car is clogged with dust. I’m changing it out. Sorry for the wait, you can start eating first.” “It’s okay, I’ll wait for you.” Hanging up, I checked the dining table for anything missing. It seemed I forgot the contraceptives. I put on my clothes and headed down to the 7-Eleven on the corner. On my way back, to take a shortcut, I braved the dark and walked along the edge of the parking lot. Passing by a Tesla charging station, two figures kissing passionately caught my eye. Just as I was about to bite the bullet and walk past them, the left car door opened. Someone grabbed my wrist and pulled me into the car. My scream was muffled by his hand, blocked in my throat. It was Alexander! He still hadn’t left! He pulled me so suddenly that I fell sideways into his lap. The lighting was dim, making his features look even sharper. My heart was pounding, and I was just about to struggle. But his right hand suddenly gripped the back of my neck, pulling me forcefully toward him. Caught off guard, I put my hands on his chest to steady myself and looked up in a panic. He gently lowered his head, resting his chin on my left shoulder, his tone bewitching. “Don’t move. Look outside.”

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My fiancé missed our dinner plans because he had to drop me off at the emergency room. As a result, he was serving his twenty-eighth “penance” of the month. This time, the punishment Tinsley devised for him was simple: Harrison had to move out of our home—the home we shared as a betrothed couple—and live with her for thirty days. Without a second thought, he postponed the wedding that was supposed to happen in exactly one week. Then, he packed a bag and walked out the door. “You know Tinsley doesn’t have a mean bone in her body,” he said, pausing by the threshold. “She’s just… she has this rigid sense of justice. A deal is a deal to her.” I leaned against the doorframe, my voice gone. “It’s bad timing that you got sick,” he continued, adjusting his coat. “Leaving her alone that night really set her off. If I can just spend a month smoothing things over, it’ll be better than hearing about it for the rest of our lives. Don’t be difficult, Margot. The house isn’t going anywhere. I’ll be back to marry you before you know it.” I didn’t say a word. I just watched him go. He didn’t realize that I wasn’t going to “be difficult” anymore. Ten years into his cycle of endless penance, I decided it was time for this house to have a new master. 1 When Harrison left, he didn’t even take a suitcase. He just grabbed a slim leather briefcase, moving with a practiced, casual grace, as if he were merely heading out for a three-day business trip rather than abandoning his bride-to-be a week before the “I do’s.” As he reached the foyer, he stopped by the console table. Slowly, deliberately, he twisted the platinum band off his ring finger and set it atop the stack of wedding invitations we hadn’t mailed out yet. “It’s a bit distracting for work,” he muttered, not looking at me. “Keep it safe for me, okay?” I stared at the ring. It was a custom set we’d picked out in London six months ago. I remembered the way he’d wrapped his arms around my waist back then, whispering into my hair, “Once this is on, you’re mine. Don’t you ever take it off.” He was the first to take it off. That evening, Tinsley posted a photo dump on Instagram. Nine frames of Harrison. Harrison peeling shrimp for her. Harrison blowing on a spoonful of soup to cool it down. Harrison laughing at something she’d said. The caption was a single line: [Repentance looks good on him. And look at that—no ring to get in the way. Much better.] I turned off my screen. Then, I picked up the landline and began calling every vendor to retract the invitations I had sent out the day before. The next morning, Tinsley showed up at my door. She let herself in using the thumbprint Harrison had programmed into the smart lock for her months ago. She looked around with a bright, possessive smile, as if she were the lady of the manor and I was merely a lingering ghost. “Morning, Margot! Harrison asked me to grab a few changes of clothes for him.” She tilted her head, her eyes sparkling with a mock-sweetness. “He said you’d know exactly where his favorites are.” I didn’t argue. I turned and walked toward the walk-in closet. Harrison’s wardrobe was a monument to precision. Shirts organized by color gradient, suits categorized by occasion. For ten years, I had cared for him with the devotion of a mother and the precision of a curator. I had enabled his every obsession. Tinsley followed me in. Her eyes raved over the racks of bespoke tailoring. “This one’s nice,” she said, pulling out a charcoal silk robe. It was a limited-edition piece I’d spent weeks tracking down for his last birthday. She gave me a wicked little grin. “Maybe I’ll make him wear this for his next ‘sentence.’ He’d look delicious in it.” I remained silent. She stepped closer, taking the folded clothes from my hands. Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “You know, Margot… the day you got sick? We were actually supposed to be at his final tuxedo fitting. We had a whole celebratory lunch planned.” My hands stilled over a stack of sweaters. She laughed, a sound like tinkling glass. “To stand up a girl on a day like that? You have to admit, he deserves to be punished, doesn’t he?” She gathered the clothes into her arms. As she turned to leave, she threw one last remark over her shoulder. “Oh, and don’t be mad, but Harrison is strictly off-limits for the next thirty days. No calls, no texts. He needs to focus on making it up to me.” I just nodded. “Understood.” She looked almost disappointed by my lack of fire. Once she was gone, I retreated to the bedroom and locked the door. My phone buzzed. It was the real estate agent. [Miss Song, the buyer had a scheduling conflict. They’ll be coming to view the property the day after tomorrow instead.] For a second, I wavered. When we bought this place three years ago, Harrison’s firm had just cleared its biggest hurdle. It was the first time we actually had real money in the bank. We had spent an entire night huddled over floor plans in our cramped apartment, dreaming. He had pointed to the master balcony with glowing eyes. “Right here. Every morning, I’ll make the coffee, and you can sit here and work on your designs.” The renovation took eight months. Every weekend was spent at the construction site. We argued over tile grout and scoured markets for the perfect curtain linen. On the day we moved in, the house was empty, filled only with golden afternoon light. We sat on the hardwood floor, back-to-back, sharing a single beer. He had kissed the crown of my head, his voice thick with a satisfaction I’d never heard before. “We finally have a home, Margot.” Back then, his eyes held the reflection of the city skyline, the sunset, and me. A sharp, acidic ache rose in my throat. I gripped the phone until my knuckles turned white. Do I sell? If I sell, every hope, every drop of sweat, and every memory of laughter shared amidst the scent of fresh paint would be dismantled and traded away with these four walls. But if I don’t? Could I really stay in this gilded cage, watching the man I love serve “penance” to another woman over and over, only to be told “don’t be difficult” when I finally break? I closed my eyes, took a ragged breath, and put the phone down. I didn’t reply to the agent. Instead, I opened my chat with Harrison. Our history was cold and sparse. At the very top was my last message: [I’m not feeling well. Can you take me to the hospital?] He had dropped me at the curb of the ER, hadn’t even waited for a diagnosis, and sped off to meet Tinsley. He was thirty minutes late for her, so the “punishment” followed as surely as the tide. With cold fingers, I typed a message. It felt like a rebellion, or perhaps just the last gasp of a dying flame. [Harrison, the wedding is off.] His reply came almost instantly. [Margot, what are you throwing a tantrum for now?] I stared at the word tantrum. I felt a sudden, overwhelming exhaustion, followed by a strange, light buoyancy. A tantrum? No, Harrison. This time, I’m not throwing a tantrum. I’m throwing away the trash. 2 Harrison called three hours later. I was staring at the computer screen, looking at the wedding itinerary I’d spent months refining. Just a few days ago, Tinsley had called it “tacky and mid-century,” so Harrison had ordered me to redo the entire thing. I hadn’t touched a single word. Harrison had been “punished” by Tinsley again for my defiance. In front of all their friends at a lounge, she’d made him kneel and unlace her stilettos with his teeth. I picked up the phone but stayed silent. The background noise hit me first—the clink of expensive crystal, the raucous laughter of our “inner circle.” “What the hell did you send me?” Harrison asked. His tone was flat, bored. “Exactly what it said.” The line went quiet for a heartbeat. Then, he let out a low, condescending chuckle. It wasn’t anger; it was the smug certainty of a man who thought he held all the cards. “Look, stop being a child,” he said, his voice softening into that patronizing “husband” tone. “Postponing it by a month is actually a win. I checked the calendar—the 18th of next month is actually better for the weather anyway. It’s more—” A loud crash interrupted him. Tinsley’s voice cut in, playful and sharp. “Harrison! You’re distracted again! How dare you divide your attention when you’re supposed to be focused on me. That’s another penalty!” His voice immediately shifted, becoming indulgent and weary. “Princess, please… I’m just taking a call. You’ve already penalized me five times tonight. My hands are literally bruised from the ‘gripping’ exercises you made me do.” “I don’t care! This one has to be big!” Tinsley’s voice was slurred with expensive gin. “I want you to mix that ‘Midnight in Paris’ cocktail yourself, and then…” She dragged out the words. “You have to feed it to me. Mouth-to-mouth.” I heard Harrison’s breath hitch. “You little devil,” he rasped, his voice dropping an octave. “That’s not a punishment. That’s a reward.” “Shut up!” Tinsley giggled. “Do you accept the penance or not?” “Always,” he replied instantly. “Your rules are the only ones that matter, Tinsley. I’ll feed you whatever you want.” Whistles and catcalls erupted in the background. Harrison seemed to remember I was still on the line. His voice returned to its business-like chill. “You heard that? To make sure we actually get to the altar next month, I’m going through hell over here. Don’t say stupid things about canceling again. I’ve got to go.” 3 I held the phone to my ear long after the line went dead. He hadn’t even asked why. To him, the weight of “canceling the wedding” didn’t even register against the gravity of Tinsley’s latest game. I should have seen this coming. Memories began to play back like a grainy film reel. The first time Harrison was “punished” was our senior year trip to the Hamptons. Tinsley had arrived late, missed the ferry, and called him sobbing, claiming she was being “ostracized” by the group. Harrison abandoned everyone, drove three hours back to the city, and spent the night on her couch. When he returned the next morning, his eyes were bloodshot. His first words to me? “Tinsley made me carry every bag of trash out of her apartment building as penance. Thirty floors. The elevator was out.” Later, I learned the truth from a mutual friend. Harrison’s father had been the one behind the wheel during the car accident that killed Tinsley’s father. From that day on, “atonement” became the secret language they spoke. “Punishment” was simply how Tinsley collected her debt. Back then, I only saw his “responsibility” and his “guilt.” My heart bled for him. The second time was our first anniversary living together. I’d cooked a five-course meal and waited until 2:00 AM. He’d been at the pier with Tinsley because she’d had a bad breakup. He came home smelling of salt and cold air, hugging me and apologizing. “She said I didn’t find her fast enough. She made me jump into the harbor to retrieve a necklace she threw in. The water was freezing, Margot… Let’s just celebrate our anniversary next weekend, okay?” I looked at his blue lips and let my resentment melt into pity. Then came the engagement. Tinsley had a minor fender bender—a scratch on her bumper. Harrison got the call while I was in the middle of a lace fitting for my veil. He left me standing there in pins and needles. That night, he sent a photo. There was a jagged, red bite mark just below his collarbone. His voice note followed: “The kid has a temper. She said my getting engaged made her feel ‘unprotected.’ She ‘marked’ me as a penalty. Let’s push the engagement party back a week? Just until she calms down?” I looked at that bite mark and felt a chill that went straight to my bones. I cried. I screamed. I fought. On countless nights when he stood me up, or came home bruised, or exhausted because of her “games,” I asked him: “Who are you building a life with? Me or her?” He would always hold me, his voice gravelly with fatigue. “Margot, don’t. Tinsley is… she’s different. I owe her. I have to take care of her. Can’t you just be the bigger person? I love you. I’m marrying you. These ‘punishments’… they’re just my burden to bear.” At first, it was a burden. Then, it became a habit. The punishments evolved from carrying trash and jumping into cold water to more intimate humiliations—barking like a dog at parties, wearing her clothes, unlacing her shoes. It had turned into a sick, flirtatious game where they both knew the rules. And he was addicted to the play. I used to think that if I was patient enough, if I was “reasonable” enough, he would eventually pay off the debt. But it had been ten years. I went from the girl who cried to the woman who stayed silent. And now, I was the woman who had nothing left to give. I finally lowered my arm. The reflection in the window showed a woman with dry eyes. I couldn’t even conjure a tear. I had lost this war a long time ago. You can’t win when you’re playing for a heart that someone else has already mortgaged. Harrison had spent a decade happily placing himself on the altar of Tinsley’s whims. It was never about me. 4 When my mother called, I was almost finished packing. She didn’t start with her usual pleasantries. Her voice was a jagged edge of panic. “Margot! It’s your stepfather! The scaffolding collapsed at the site! I don’t know what to do…” I sat bolt upright. “Mom? Slow down. What happened?” “He’s in the ICU… the hospital needs a fifty-thousand-dollar deposit for the surgery. Right now.” Her voice broke into a sob against a backdrop of hospital intercoms. “Margot, please… I don’t have it. I have nothing left.” My heart hammered against my ribs. “Which hospital? I’m coming.” “St. Jude’s! Margot—the money!” I hung up and instinctively checked my banking app. Balance: $740.32. The number felt like a slap in the face. My savings had been drained years ago when my stepfather first became disabled. Then came my mother’s heart surgery—a bottomless pit of bills. My modest salary as a designer was swallowed whole by their prescriptions and follow-ups. The last time Harrison had given me “household funds” was two months ago. He’d failed to secure a limited-edition handbag for Tinsley, so she’d sentenced him to “experience the struggle.” As part of his penance, he decided we had to live on a strict budget for ninety days. Naturally, that meant he stopped contributing to our joint account entirely. My credit cards were maxed. My lines of credit were dry. Fifty thousand dollars. To me, it was an impossible mountain. To Harrison, it was a rounding error on a Tuesday. I hated asking him. I had made it a point of pride never to beg. But pride doesn’t pay for the ICU. I dialed his number. It rang several times before he picked up. “What is it, Margot? Missing me already?” He sounded light, almost jovial. I took a breath, my nails digging into my palms. “Harrison, my stepdad is in the ICU. A construction accident. I need fifty thousand for the hospital deposit. Can you—” “Your stepdad? Which one?” The warmth vanished. His voice went cold, professional. “My only stepdad, Harrison. Please.” My throat felt tight. “Oh,” he paused. “That’s sudden. Look, Tinsley’s in a state today. I just finally got her settled, and I’m still ‘on the clock’ for my penance. Can’t you ask someone else? Cousins? Friends?” “Harrison, I don’t have anyone else.” “The wedding is postponed anyway,” he countered. “What about that offshore account I set up for your ‘dowry’? There should be plenty in there.” In the background, I heard a man’s voice—one of Harrison’s frat-boy business partners—sneer. “Again with the money? Harrison, is your girl a fiancée or a collection agency? It’s always ‘withdraw, withdraw, withdraw’ with her.” “Remember when she hiked the engagement gift from twenty grand to a hundred grand?” another voice chimed in. “Said she needed it for her ‘biological’ father’s estate? You gave it without blinking, and her mother probably blew it on a cruise.” Laughter erupted. Harrison didn’t stop them. He just made a soft “shh” sound. “Listen, Margot,” he said, his voice steady and condescending. “You know I don’t care about the money. I put this house in your name, didn’t I? Did I ever complain?” “This is an emergency, Harrison.” “Figure it out yourself this time,” he said. “Don’t make this a thing. I really don’t want my wedding planning interrupted by a funeral. It’s bad luck. Okay?” The blood rushed to my ears, a dull roaring sound. That “hundred grand”… My mother had gone to Harrison behind my back, weeping about their debts, using my biological father’s “legacy” as a front to get money. Then, she’d turned around and given it all to my deadbeat brother for his gambling debts and a new condo. I hadn’t found out until the money was gone. When I confronted her, she’d knelt at my feet, wailing that she was dying and just wanted her children to be “settled.” What was I supposed to do? Let her starve? And now, that debt was being used as evidence of my greed. I wanted to give up. But I thought of my stepfather—the only man who had ever truly looked out for me. “Harrison, I explained that money to you. My mother lied to both of us—” “I know,” he interrupted, his voice dripping with boredom. “And I paid it. Where it went isn’t my problem. I’m done being the ATM for your family’s drama.” In the background, Tinsley’s voice floated over. “Harrison… I’m dizzy…” “Coming, baby,” he called out. Then, to me: “Margot, be a good girl. Don’t make me feel like the only reason you’re with me is for the checkbook.” Click. The dial tone hummed in the silent house. I looked at the dark screen, seeing my own pale, ghost-like reflection. Figure it out yourself. I closed my eyes. Fine, Harrison. As you wish. A week passed. Harrison’s phone was uncharacteristically quiet. No frantic texts from Margot, no tearful explanations. Even the “leeching” calls from her mother had ceased. “What’s the matter?” a friend asked Harrison over drinks. “Fiancée finally learn some manners?” “She’s just pouting,” Harrison said, though he felt a strange prickle of unease. “I’ll give her another week of the silent treatment. She’ll come crawling back once the bills hit.” But the unease grew. On a whim, he decided to cut his “penance” short by two days. “Don’t let Tinsley know you’re heading back early,” his friend warned. “She’ll lose her mind.” “I can handle Tinsley,” Harrison snapped. He drove to the house, his thumbprint hitting the scanner. He expected to find Margot in the dark, perhaps weeping over a glass of wine. The house was deathly silent. He walked toward the master suite. The door was ajar. Through the crack, he saw the silhouette of someone in our bed. His friend, who had tagged along for the “reunion,” chuckled nervously. “Whoa. Did we time this wrong?” Harrison’s vision tunneled. Rage, hot and blinding, surged through him. He stormed into the room and ripped the duvet back.

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I had traveled ten years into the future, and I was furious. I was ready to give my future self a piece of my mind. “Did he cheat on me, or did he get rich and forget his roots?” “I knew it. You can never trust the love of a poor boy.” “Where is he? If I don’t vent this anger, my name isn’t Fiona Sterling.” My 31-year-old self stared at me numbly, her eyes hollow and dead. She opened her mouth, her cracked lips splitting and bleeding, as she pulled a mocking, bitter smile. “Heh… Where is he? He’s dead.” She suddenly lunged at me. “Didn’t you know? He was in pain. He was sick. Why didn’t you know!?” 1 I was pinned down, choked, and interrogated by my 31-year-old self. My heart pounded violently, my throat was blocked, and I couldn’t catch my breath. But all of that physical agony paled in comparison to the shock of what she had just said. Caleb was dead? How was that possible?! It was even more absurd and laughable than the fact that I had inexplicably traveled ten years into the future. Caleb Hayes had crawled his way out of a dirt-poor rural town in the Appalachians. He had more vitality than wild weeds. He was hardworking and ambitious. Flash floods and near-starvation in the mountains hadn’t taken his life. How could he die in the prosperity of the city? I shook my head desperately, struggling against her. The 31-year-old Fiona was far too frail. She was no match for me. I shoved her off my body. Terrified she would lunge again, I backed away cautiously, my hand blindly grabbing a dust-covered vase from a nearby table. “Explain yourself! What do you mean he’s dead?” The horrifyingly emaciated woman slumped in the corner. Her body was paper-thin, her collarbones jutting out sharply, rising and falling with her weak breaths. Her gaze shifted. It landed on the vase in my hands. Her voice sounded like sandpaper scraping against the back of her throat. “Do you remember that vase?” I looked down, barely recognizing the object under its thick coat of dust. “This is… the Baccarat Louxor crystal vase Caleb gave me yesterday for my 21st birthday?” My 31-year-old self let out a bizarre, ironic laugh. “Heh. You only remember your birthday. Your birthday presents. Do you have any idea how many all-nighters he pulled for this stupid vase? Do you know how much he sweat through his clothes from stomach pains, swallowing handfuls of painkillers just to afford it?” “Do you know that he had already completely burned out his body, leaving him with less than a year to live?” She dragged herself up, advancing on me step by step. “You don’t know anything! You are reckless, arrogant, and oblivious. You recklessly squandered Caleb’s care and devotion without restraint.” “You are a parasite. To prove he was worthy of a rich heiress like you, he literally drained his own life away.” “And now, what are you doing holding that broken vase? Are you trying to smash my head in?” Before I could react, her skeletal fingers violently seized my hand and forced it upward. Smash! The five-figure crystal vase shattered against the head of the 31-year-old Fiona. Shards of glass rained down onto the floor, mixing with dark red blood. Panic-stricken, I caught my older self as her body slid downward. My fingers pressed uselessly against her wound. The blood welling up between my fingers wouldn’t stop, no matter how hard I pressed. “Hold on! I… I’ll call 911! You have to hold on!” Using her last ounce of strength, she snatched my phone away. “I should have died a long time ago.” Her eyes suddenly widened. “But you! You can’t die! You have to go back… go back and save him… please, save him.” As she spoke her final word. Her body suddenly felt incredibly heavy, and then incredibly light. Her breathing stopped completely. I never thought that one day, I would die in my own arms. My entire body trembled violently. I covered my ears and let out a soundless scream. The room spun, and I blacked out. 2 The sound of music grew from distant to near. I snapped my eyes open and sat up, looking around frantically. I was in my familiar, luxurious bedroom. The projector screen was playing my Spotify playlist. My gaze drifted to the crystal vase on the desk and locked onto it. It was clean and brilliant. I gasped for air. Was it all just a nightmare? There was no time travel. Caleb wasn’t going to die. And my 31-year-old self hadn’t violently ended her life in front of me. But my heart was slamming against my ribs so hard my chest ached. Those interrogations, the desperate pleas, the thick, warm blood, my own shattered future self… It was all too real. So real that my fingertips were still shaking. Without even changing out of my silk pajamas, I grabbed my car keys and bolted out the door. The streets at 3:00 AM were terrifyingly empty. My engine roared. I kept my eyes glued to the road ahead. In the thick darkness of the night, a single light shone from the far-left corner of the 12th floor of an office building. I stepped out of my car barefoot, stumbling as I sprinted into the elevator. The glowing red numbers ascending on the screen. They reminded me of the bloody gashes on my 31-year-old self’s head. Every second I waited felt like a torturous execution. The moment the elevator doors cracked open, I bolted down the hall. At the end of the corridor, I threw the heavy studio door open. The person hunched over the drafting desk froze, looking up in surprise at the noise. Caleb was, indeed, pulling an all-nighter for his architecture internship. The halo of the desk lamp outlined his exhausted silhouette. His eyes were entirely bloodshot. Seeing it was me, he quickly set his pen down. “Fiona, what are you…” Before he could finish, I was already sobbing and throwing myself into his arms. Caleb instinctively hugged me tight. His voice was laced with urgent concern: “What happened?” Seeing me in pajamas, barefoot, with my eyes red from crying had clearly terrified him. After repeatedly checking to ensure I was “intact,” Caleb scooped me up and set me on his desk. He tucked my freezing bare feet under the hem of his shirt, using the warmth of his stomach to warm them. Without drawing attention to it, his hand reached out to shut a half-open drawer. I saw it. And suddenly, I realized similar movements had happened countless times before. Except, in the past, I had been completely oblivious and never thought anything of it. This time, I reached out and stopped him. “Why do you close that drawer every time you see me?” I yanked it open forcefully. It was stuffed full of antacids, prescription stomach meds, and heavy painkillers. If, a second ago, I still harbored the faint hope that everything had just been a bizarre nightmare… Now, staring at these medications, I could no longer lie to myself. Tears spilled from my eyes all over again. “Caleb, where does it hurt? I’m taking you to the hospital. We’re going right now. We’ll make it in time!” Ignoring his protests, I jumped off the desk and stubbornly tried to drag him away. Caleb looked a bit embarrassed. He wasn’t used to being the one cared for or coddled by me. He tried to soothe me with a gentle voice: “I’m fine, it’s just a little stomach ache. Old issue. A couple of pills and I’m good. Look, I’m standing right here in front of you, aren’t I?” He tried to smile at me. But a sudden, violent stomach spasm froze the smile on his lips. He pressed his lips tightly together, forcing a tiny bit of color back into his face. “The AC is terrible in here. Let me take you home first, okay?” The moment he saw me, Caleb had draped his jacket over my shoulders. Now, underneath his thin dress shirt, his stomach was convulsing with waves of intensifying pain. Using the motion of crouching down to offer me a piggyback ride, Caleb pressed his right fist brutally into his stomach. He was using a sharper, exterior pain to numb the internal spasms. “Come on, Fiona. The floor is cold. I’ll carry you.” 3 Looking at this endlessly indulgent, gentle man in front of me. I suddenly felt that my 31-year-old self hadn’t cursed me out harshly enough. I shook my head violently. Tears flew from my face, landing on Caleb’s back. “No… I don’t want your jacket. I don’t want you to carry me. I don’t want you to take me home…” My voice was choked and broken. By the end, I was sobbing uncontrollably. I just want you. I want you to live. Caleb misunderstood my words. He turned his head, pulling a bleak smile filled with understanding and self-deprecation. Because of my repeated “no’s,” a layer of ashen despair clouded his eyes. His voice was dry. It sounded like he was finding an excuse for me, but more like he was brainwashing himself. “My jacket… is really old. It’s a knockoff. It might give you a rash. It makes sense you don’t want it.” “Riding on the back of my old bike is beneath you. Let me call your family’s driver to come pick you up, alright?” Caleb lowered his eyes, hiding a messy floor of deep-seated insecurities. “Fiona, you don’t want me to carry you. Is it… because you don’t like this broken body of mine either? Because I’m unworthy?” I froze for a second. And then I realized how Caleb had interpreted my words. I wanted to explain, but I felt there was nothing more pale and powerless than language right now. So I proved it with action. With an almost brutal force, I grabbed the back of his neck, pulled him down, stood on my tiptoes, and kissed him. I shoved all of his bleak, self-deprecating words back down his throat. Urgently, clumsily, and silently, I branded my true feelings directly into his soul. Caleb completely stiffened. This was our first kiss. Since we started dating, we had held so much caution, fantasy, and anticipation regarding our first kiss. For it to happen so abruptly— Caleb opened his eyes wide in shock. The soft touch on his lips and the agonizing spasms in his stomach were equally real. And then. Almost purely out of instinct, he responded to me, deepening it. He took the lead, escalating the kiss. It was no longer just passive acceptance; it was confirmation and demand. Filled with a desperate, burning passion of someone who had just regained something they thought was lost. All of our insecurities, fears, and misunderstandings burned to ash within that kiss. 4 At 4:00 AM, Caleb couldn’t win against my stubbornness, and I successfully dragged him to the hospital. On the way, wearing convenience store flip-flops, I made a phone call. The chief of medicine at the private hospital was an old friend of my dad’s. He had already arranged for a VIP reception. The moment Caleb walked in, he was whisked away for a barrage of tests. Though he thought I was making a mountain out of a molehill, he still indulgently let me boss him around. While waiting for the results, a nurse hooked Caleb up to an IV drip. He politely thanked her. The second the nurse left, he casually reached up and sped up the drip rate. Seeing me glare at him, he obediently dialed it back down. “Fiona, don’t be so tense. I’m going to be fine.” How could I not be tense? How could I not be terrified? I forced a smile, waiting in sheer agony. Because we rushed the labs, two hours later, Dr. Bennett walked into the IV room holding a stack of reports. His gaze lingered between Caleb and me for a moment. He folded the reports and spoke in a casual tone: “The results are in.” He paused, then looked at Caleb. “You still have two bags left on the IV. Family member, come with me for a second, I just need to go over some care instructions.” Dr. Bennett’s eyes met mine for a fraction of a second, glancing imperceptibly toward the hallway. My fingertips instantly turned to ice. But I had to pretend everything was fine. I turned to Caleb and softly instructed: “You stay here and be good. I’ll be right back. Don’t speed up the drip; I’m going to check.” Caleb looked up, seemingly oblivious, and smiled his usual warm, radiant smile. “Alright. Go ahead.” Inside the office. Dr. Bennett’s expression was incredibly grim. He snapped the CT scans onto the lightbox, pointing to an irregular, cloudy mass on the grayscale imaging of the stomach. “Fiona, look here.” “There’s significant thickening of the stomach wall, and the surrounding lymph nodes are enlarged. Combined with the abnormal blood panels and the elevated tumor markers…” He paused kindly, giving me a moment to brace myself. “It’s stomach cancer. And… from the looks of it, it’s highly likely it’s not in the early stages.” Buzz— The world suddenly lost its reality. The footsteps echoing in the hallway, the sound of the doctor’s voice right in front of me… it all faded far, far away. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. Instead, a dam of tears broke and flooded my face. An icy shudder crawled up my spine. In an instant, it froze the blood in my veins. Dr. Bennett quickly supported my arm. “Fiona, you have to be strong.” “I know how hard this is, but if you collapse right now, what happens to the patient out there getting his IV?” Thinking of Caleb. The sounds around me slowly came back into focus. Dr. Bennett was right. I had to be strong. I couldn’t let Caleb notice anything was wrong. He had nothing. This body of his was the only thing that had carried him from the rural mountains to the big city. From an impoverished kid to the university’s star valedictorian. If he knew that the only thing he truly owned was already… It was too cruel. I wiped my tears and forced myself to focus on discussing the preliminary treatment plan with Dr. Bennett. Once we established a general direction, I composed myself and pushed the office door open. I pushed the door open just a crack, and then I froze. Caleb was standing right outside. His right hand was holding up his mobile IV pole. He looked at me quietly. Those eyes that were usually smiling were currently as dark and deep as a bottomless abyss. 5 “Finished talking to the doctor?” Caleb’s voice sounded perfectly normal. But his white-knuckled grip on the IV pole betrayed just how violent of an emotional earthquake he had just endured. His left hand, the one with the IV needle, loosely held a bottle of warm milk. He handed it to me. “Passed by the vending machine on the way here. Got you some warm milk. You sit here and drink this. I’m going to go ask the doctor about the follow-up care, okay?” I instinctively blocked the door. But my boyfriend, who usually spoiled me rotten and agreed to everything I said, gently shook his head in disagreement for the very first time. Gently but firmly, he guided me away from the door and sat me in a nearby chair. He pressed his forehead against mine, like he was comforting a frightened child. He whispered: “Be good.” “Just give me a minute.” Then, he turned around, straightened his back, and pushed that office door open. I have no idea what Caleb said to Dr. Bennett in that room. When he came out, he was unnaturally calm. He had the nurse pull his IV, grabbed his prescriptions from the pharmacy, and called an Uber to take me home. He even remembered to lean over and buckle my seatbelt after we got in the car. I was on edge the entire ride. I wanted to speak, but I was terrified of shattering the rare warmth and peace of the night. The car pulled up to the gates of my family’s estate. Caleb paid through his app. He stepped out and opened my door for me. He was the absolute perfect, most considerate lover. The early morning breeze was a bit chilly. He pulled my pajama collar tighter around my neck. His voice was very soft, but it sliced through the silence like a dull knife. “I’ll just drop you off here.” “We… let’s just end it here. Okay?” 6 The pale glow of the approaching dawn fell on his pallid face. Those eyes that always looked at me brightly, overflowing with gentleness and love, reflected absolutely no light right now. They were like a dried-up well. I was stunned. It was like I couldn’t comprehend the meaning of the words he had just spoken. I just stared at Caleb blankly. My voice floated out, barely sounding like my own: “…What?” The very next second. I grabbed Caleb’s collar in a death grip. I was entirely submerged in pain and terror. It felt like if I let go, even for a second, he would completely vanish from the face of the earth. I practically screamed it. “NO!” My voice cracked and shattered. “Don’t even think about it… Caleb, what do you mean ‘end it here’? Don’t even fucking think about it!” Caleb didn’t respond to me. His gaze drifted past my trembling shoulders to the space behind me. It was the estate staff, coming out to check on the shouting. He nodded politely at the maids. Humble and perfectly composed. “Please take her inside.” “She caught a bit of a chill. Please make her a bowl of ginger tea, make sure it’s hot… Thank you.” His eyes returned to me. He smiled incredibly faintly. His voice was clear, but laced with a forced, deliberate distance. “I’m leaving.”

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When I was 17, I was brought back to my wealthy biological family. My parents hesitated, exchanging awkward glances. “You have a twin brother and a younger sister, but they…” Looking at their expressions, I understood immediately. My biological siblings probably weren’t too thrilled to have me back. But the very next second, the grand double doors were thrown open. A flashy figure strode in, rocking a head of blindingly bright red hair. He announced loudly: “So this is my big sis, huh? I dyed my hair red specifically to celebrate you coming home. Is this festive enough or what?” Following close behind him was a teenage girl with side-swept bangs, clutching a bundle of burning sage, some amethyst crystals, and a vial of holy water. “Sis! I got these specially blessed by a psychic! Let me cleanse your aura and ward off the bad vibes!” “…” Every family has its problems. My family apparently had two. 1 The drive from the orphanage to the multi-million dollar luxury estate took just over an hour. My biological parents had red, teary eyes and couldn’t stop staring at me. As the heavy doors pushed open, a world of unimaginable luxury unfolded before me. My parents took my hand and gave me a tour of everything, including the bedroom and private study they had prepared for me, and the elite private prep school I was about to transfer into. However, their enthusiastic chatter suddenly ground to a halt, turning into awkward stammers. “Chloe, you also have a twin brother and a younger sister, but they…” From their tone, I could already guess my siblings’ attitude toward me. It made sense. Even with the ties of blood, to this family, I was a stranger. An abrupt intrusion. I opened my mouth, just about to say it was fine. The next second, the grand doors swung open. A flashy figure strode in, rocking a head of blindingly bright red hair. The teenage boy, who shared several facial features with me, looked me up and down before announcing loudly: “So this is my big sis, huh? I dyed my hair red specifically to celebrate you coming home. Is this festive enough or what?” And that wasn’t all. Following close behind him was a teenage girl with side-swept bangs, clutching a bundle of burning sage, amethyst crystals, and a vial of holy water. Her voice was loud and clear: “Sis! I got these specially blessed by a psychic! Let me cleanse your aura and ward off the bad vibes!” I fell silent for a moment. I turned my head and saw my biological parents looking like they wanted to crawl into a hole. “…” Before I was brought back, the director of the orphanage had earnestly advised me: “Chloe, every family has its problems. When you go back, try not to resent your parents or your siblings too much. You have a long life ahead of you; don’t live in the past.” The director probably never imagined that while every family has its problems, my family had two massive ones. Before I could even speak, my biological dad erupted. “Caleb Sterling! What kind of nonsense are you and your sister pulling now?! Didn’t I tell you Chloe was coming home today?!” The boy named Caleb—the twin who shared my exact birthdate—didn’t show an ounce of respect. “Yeah, and isn’t this me welcoming my sister home?” The girl beside him didn’t say a word. She just kept waving the burning sage around me, muttering some incomprehensible incantation under her breath. Like she was performing a ritual. Then, she devoutly shoved the amethyst crystals and holy water into my hands, her large eyes sparkling. “Sis, keep the crystals on you at all times, and put the holy water by your bed to repel evil spirits.” My dad grabbed a decorative broom from the corner, looking furious. “Repel evil spirits?! The only evil spirits she needs to repel are you two! Caleb, Maya, you get back here right now!” I was left looking at my biological mom, and she at me. She forced a stiff smile. “Chloe… our family is just on the lively side. Please don’t mind them.” The melancholy I originally felt was blown halfway to heaven by these two siblings. On my very first day back with my biological family, I witnessed my dad chasing his kids around with a broom. The teenage boy sprinted around the courtyard, occasionally turning back to wait for his middle-aged father to catch up, only to dart away again just as the broom was about to land. The sight of my panting, exhausted father was profoundly pathetic. “…” These two were absolute menaces. The afternoon ended with a roar echoing through the mansion: “Caleb Sterling, you are dyeing that red chicken-feather hair back to black tomorrow!” 2 After dinner, my blood-related brother and sister stared intently at me. Like they were trying to find a hidden treasure on my face. Maya spoke first: “Sis, you and Caleb look pretty similar, so why are you so much prettier than him?” “Maya, what’s that supposed to mean? I’m your brother!” The girl, two years our junior, rolled her eyes at him. “Just because you’re my brother doesn’t mean I can’t speak the truth.” The natural familiarity between these two was something I couldn’t insert myself into. Their bickering left no room for me to interject. However, they seemed deeply curious about my past. Maya asked: “Sis, you’re so pretty and healthy. How come no family wanted to adopt you all these years?” My memories drifted far away. After a moment, I said, “I was actually adopted by three different families.” The siblings before me simultaneously widened their nearly identical eyes. “But within two years of adopting me, each of those families ended up having biological children of their own.” It was a strange phenomenon. The couples who came to the orphanage to adopt were usually older or diagnosed with infertility. At first, they treated me wonderfully. But as soon as they had their own children, they felt I was taking up resources meant for their biological kids, and I was sent back under various excuses. As I grew older, families coming to adopt naturally preferred younger children. After hearing this, Caleb blurted out, “Holy crap, you’re a literal good luck charm for babies!” “…” Then my biological sister threw another question at me: “Sis, what’s your zodiac sign? Let me calculate your birth chart. How can anyone be as unlucky as you?” “Caleb is a Virgo, what are you?” “…” Facing her painfully sincere gaze, I gently reminded her, “I’m his twin.” “Right, he’s a Virgo. What about you?” Beside her, Caleb didn’t seem to think anything was wrong with that question either. The siblings’ eyes were identical pools of crystal-clear emptiness. “…” When I was brought back, my school records were transferred over as well. I was enrolled in the same elite private prep school as Caleb and Maya, which housed both a middle school and a high school division. On registration day, Caleb asked, “Sis, which class are you in?” He always called me “Sis” with a slight, unearned swagger. Even though he spoke normally otherwise. “If you run into any trouble at school, come find me. Your brother has quite a bit of pull around here.” Beside him, Maya was muttering to herself before leaving the house: “Today’s lucky color is green…” And then I watched her emerge wearing an entirely green outfit, a jade bracelet on her wrist, and even a green backpack. “…” Perfect. My two blood relatives. One was an edgy teen with a savior complex, and the other was an astrology girl living in her own magical reality. 3 Caleb didn’t know we were in the same class until we were standing right outside the classroom door. My transfer had been abrupt. To save time, my parents simply threw money at the problem to expedite the paperwork. This meant my grades from my previous public school didn’t matter. It was the middle of the second semester of junior year; it didn’t matter which class I was placed into. Caleb was thrilled. “Same class is great! I’ve got your back from now on.” “…” When the homeroom teacher led me to the podium, I finally got a good look at all the students in the room. Caleb’s red hair was glaringly obvious, even sitting in the very back corner. Yet, as soon as the teacher finished introducing me, he was the first to lead the applause: “Welcome to our new classmate!” The students below the podium began whispering: “So that’s Caleb’s long-lost sister. They do look alike.” “She looks so sweet. Honestly, seeing her makes me think Caleb would look pretty good in drag… hehe.” I had no idea what Caleb had been telling the class while we were separated earlier. But looking at them, it seemed like everyone already knew who I was. “Chloe, please take a seat.” The newly emptied desk in the back row was mine. Caleb was sitting just to my back-left. He gave me a subtle chin-nod, showing off his “network” in the class and proving he truly had the ability to “have my back.” “…” During the break, Caleb wasn’t the only one. A whole circle of people crowded around my desk. They stared at me like I was an endangered animal. “Caleb, no wonder your family managed to find her after over a decade. She’s definitely a Sterling, looks like she was printed from the same mold as you.” “Hey there, I’m Mason Clark, Caleb’s best bro.” “Hey, I’m Wyatt Brooks. We’re classmates now.” “I’m Zoe Miller! Our families live close by, come hang out when you have free time!” But as soon as they finished, Caleb elbowed them. “Hold up, who are you trying to take advantage of? She’s my twin. Born the exact same day, same month, same year, just a few minutes younger,” Caleb corrected them. “Call her ‘Big Sis’.” “…” The edgy junior with red hair loved playing the “Big Brother” role in his friend group. So his sister, born just minutes later, had to be treated as the “Big Sis.” On my first day of transfer, I truly felt the sheer aura of money radiating through the school. Most of the students were incredibly wealthy or influential. There were a few rare students who kept their heads down and studied hard, and they actually got along well with the rich kids. My desk mate, Harper Hayes, was one of them. She was a scholarship student recruited by the school in middle school. When she mentioned the hefty stipend the school paid to poach her, I went silent for a moment. Harper continued, “If I can just make it into the top five of the grade, I’ll get a higher tier of scholarship money. I know this money is nothing to you guys, but for my family, it’s already a lot…” I cut her off: “It is a lot. It’s a lot to me too.” Even though my parents had opened a new bank account for me and deposited a massive sum of money when I returned, I was used to being poor. Anyone who turned down free money was an idiot. Lost in the thought that I had been missing out on this money, I furiously completed two math worksheets out of pure spite during class. At lunch, Caleb took me to the cafeteria. He stared at me for a long time before suddenly speaking, “Sis.” “Yeah?” “Don’t you feel like you’re missing something?” “Like what?” “You’re missing the youthful, vibrant energy of your brother!” He looked at me earnestly. “How about you dye your hair red too? That way, everyone will instantly know you’re my sister.” “…” I politely declined Caleb’s suggestion. He condemned me for lacking any aesthetic taste. 4 A sudden commotion broke out nearby. I looked up and saw a group of students walking in. The teenage boy leading them was treated like royalty by the others. He was incredibly handsome, and judging by the entourage, he was clearly a wealthy heir. Many students who were eating stopped to look at him. Caleb glanced over and let out a cold snort: “Poser.” Seeing my gaze still lingering on the boy, Caleb physically grabbed my head and turned it to face forward. “Sis, you just got back, so you don’t know how things work around here. See that group that just walked by? Especially that dog in the middle? Stay far away from him. He’s an absolute, total poser.” “Anyone who poses harder than your own brother can’t be a good person.” “…” I was silent for a moment, momentarily unable to comprehend his unique art of insulting an enemy by insulting himself first. Seeing me not speaking, Caleb grew alert. He rarely used my full name: “Chloe Sterling, don’t tell me you’ve been bewitched by that pretty boy’s face?” “I haven’t.” I lowered my eyes. I was recalling the photo of the number one student on the school’s honor roll. What was his name again? Liam Vance. I had no interest in him personally, but I was highly interested in his number one spot. Caleb was still trash-talking him: “That guy is super shady. Girls like you are the easiest to get fooled by that face…” His resentment was palpable. I could tell these two had serious beef. I nodded in agreement. But Caleb paused. I looked up and met the scrutinizing gaze from those eyes that were so similar to mine. “You’re brushing me off!” he accused. In the few days since returning to my biological family, I had confirmed that my twin brother and I had polar opposite personalities. His emotional needs were way too high. Like a Beagle. I rubbed my temples, feeling a headache coming on. When we got home after the school day, our parents first checked in on how I was adapting. Everything was fine. Then it was Caleb and Maya chattering non-stop in my ears. By the end of dinner, I even knew the name of Maya’s classmate’s dog. Their need to vent was just as high. I looked over at my parents; they were as steady as mountains, occasionally giving a perfunctory nod. They were clearly used to it. Sitting between the siblings, I quickly adapted too. I just couldn’t figure out how such calm, steady parents raised two hyperactive Beagles. About a week later, I was fully acclimated to the new school. It was indeed vastly different. In the past, I was a boarding student. Seven or eight of us shared a tiny dorm, sleeping on small, cramped beds. It wasn’t overly harsh, but we had absolutely no money. Now, I was chauffeured to and from school. Lunch was monitored by Caleb; he seemed to have set a minimum spending limit for my meals, insisting I spend a certain amount. “You’re too skinny. Eat more while you can still grow, get some nutrition. From now on, order according to this standard.” Meanwhile, Maya specifically crossed half the campus to bring me a huge bag of snacks. “Sis, eat up!” She pulled out a snack in red packaging, speaking devoutly, “I did a reading for you. Your lucky color today is red!” “…” Just as she tried to slip away, Caleb grabbed her by the back of her collar near the window: “Maya Sterling, do you only have one sibling in this class? Where’s mine?” The girl with the high ponytail flipped her side bangs, speaking with absolute righteousness: “If you want to eat, buy it yourself.” Caleb laughed out of sheer annoyance: “I knew it! Ever since we were little, you only ever wanted a sister, not a brother!” According to the aggrieved party’s later complaints, when Maya was a toddler and couldn’t distinguish genders, she saw kindergarten classmates with older sisters and wanted one too. So, she went home and called Caleb “Sister” for a very long time. 5 Once Caleb confirmed I had adapted to my new school life, he resumed his carefree, skipping-class lifestyle. After third period, I glanced back and realized Caleb was already gone from his seat. Until school let out in the afternoon, I didn’t see him again. It wasn’t just him; the group of guys he usually hung out with were all missing too. The teacher who came in for the next class merely swept a glance over the empty desks and, completely unfazed, began the lesson. The rest of the class didn’t seem to care either. I finally asked my desk mate. Harper heard me and explained, “They probably ditched.” “Ditched?” Harper lowered her voice: “Yeah, you know our school is full of rich kids. Aside from a few teachers with solid backing who dare to discipline them, the others are afraid of offending the rich kids and losing their jobs. Your brother and his friends used to skip classes from time to time too. The school doesn’t care, and your parents… seem to have given up too.” I narrowed my eyes. Having played by the rules for over a decade, I truly never expected my twin to be a problem child. I originally thought that red hair was just him expressing his individuality. However, before I could figure out how to guide my biological brother back to the right path, the homeroom teacher came looking for me right before school ended. “Chloe, Caleb got into a fight off-campus and is at the police station. I can’t reach your parents. Are you able to contact them?” “…” And that wasn’t the end of it. Right after I finished speaking with the teacher, I turned and saw two little girls poking their heads out by the stairwell. I recognized them; they were Maya’s classmates. They were waving at me secretively. I walked over, only to hear them say: “Sis! Maya got caught in a teen romance drama and was taken to the police station! You have to save her!” My vision went dark. My parents had taken an afternoon flight abroad for a business deal. It was completely normal not to be able to reach them right now. I called my dad’s assistant, then rushed to the police station with the homeroom teacher. Also accompanying us were school administrators and the homeroom teacher of another class. Because the person Caleb had clashed with was the very same number one student I had seen not long ago, Liam Vance. The police station was bustling. When I arrived, I saw Caleb completely ignoring his own fighting situation. He stood with his hands on his hips in front of a younger boy, looking fierce: “Do the Vances have a blood feud with our family or something? The older one plays dirty tricks on me since we were kids, and the younger one dares to hit on my sister?!” The boy, looking defiant, shot back: “Who hit on your sister? She’s the one who’s been stalking me!” Caleb was furious and wanted to throw hands, but this was a police station, and he couldn’t act recklessly. A police officer shouted a warning at them. I saw Maya standing behind Caleb like a frightened quail, but gripping the hem of his shirt. Across from them, the Vance brothers’ faces were bruised and battered. Liam and Noah Vance. The police, teachers, and school admins were all present. Yet the Vance brothers were sporting injuries, while Caleb looked completely fine. It seemed glaringly obvious who was at fault. The school administrator said sternly: “Caleb Sterling, you again!” 6 In school, it seemed that not everyone bowed to the wealth of the young masters and misses. The administrator didn’t hold back in his criticism of Caleb. Just then, another person walked in. A tall, lean figure came into view—a young man in his twenties wearing jeans and a white T-shirt appeared abruptly. “Uncle,” the Vance brothers greeted the newcomer first. “Hello, I’m Ethan Thorne. The guardians of Liam and Noah Vance have entrusted me to handle this matter.” Shortly after Ethan entered, my dad’s assistant arrived, panting heavily. Noah was younger, and the moment he saw Ethan, he started complaining. I quickly pieced together the sequence of events. The situation was simple: Caleb, skipping class, accidentally spotted his middle-school sister hanging out with his mortal enemy’s younger brother. Blood rushing to his head, he charged over to “educate” the punk who was hitting on his sister. This scene was coincidentally witnessed by Liam, and the conflict ignited. Caleb fought one against two, and from the looks of it, he didn’t lose. “…” This happened off-campus. I had no idea how these people all managed to skip class during the exact same timeframe. Regarding that, Liam stated: “I took a sick day today.” The division of responsibility was actually quite clear. Caleb threw the first punch, and everyone could see the injuries on the brothers’ faces. He was in the wrong. Naturally, the school administrators and teachers hoped to settle it privately. To settle privately, a verbal apology and covering the medical bills were unavoidable. But Caleb let out a cold sneer: “I’ll pay the medical bills. Apologize? In your dreams!” My dad’s assistant wiped non-existent sweat from his forehead, clearly at a loss with Caleb too. Seeing the matter was close to being resolved, only for the main culprit to be uncooperative, the administrator frowned: “Caleb Sterling…” I spoke up at that moment: “Excuse me, may I ask the specific content of the argument that broke out? I’m a bit curious what kind of argument would escalate to physical violence.” My words silenced the room for a moment. The school administrator grew impatient: “Does that matter? Caleb Sterling hit someone.” I stared straight back at him, my tone calm: “There are visible cuts and bruises on Caleb’s arms and the back of his hands. This was clearly a mutual altercation, not a one-sided beating by him.” “Also, losing a two-on-one fight? Are you guys useless?” I glanced at the two brothers. “You!” Noah immediately reached out to say something but was stopped by his brother. The looks the school administrator and teachers gave us practically screamed that they thought the three of us Sterling siblings were absolute troublemakers. The next second, I poked Caleb’s waist without warning. Caught off guard, he yelped in pain. I reached out and lifted his shirt. On his side was a massive, glaring purple-and-blue bruise, surrounded by smaller ones. “Pretty dirty fighters, aren’t you,” I looked at the brothers, my expression blank. “I suspect my brother sustained internal injuries. We’re requesting to go to the hospital for a medical injury assessment. Let’s see whose injuries are more severe before we talk about compensation.” When I first walked in, I noticed Caleb occasionally frowning and pressing his hand against his side. Yet this idiot insisted on pretending to be a triumphant, majestic victor. Caleb’s injuries instantly turned the tide. I saw the young man who came to handle his nephews’ injuries also frown. “Liam, Noah, did you do this?” he asked. The brothers didn’t answer. 7 I looked at Maya: “Maya, tell me, what were they arguing about?” Tears welled up in the young girl’s eyes. After a moment, she choked out, “Caleb told Noah to stay away from me…” Maya’s words brought a turning point to the situation. Initially, it was just a young girl whose confession of love was rejected, witnessed by her brother who was skipping class. As luck would have it, the punk who made his sister experience her first crush was his mortal enemy’s younger brother. In a fit of rage, he stepped in to issue a few warnings. Noah’s words weren’t polite either: “She’s been stalking me, giving me love letters and gifts. I don’t even like her.” That sentence enraged Caleb: “My sister is pretty, smart, sharp, and kind! Who are you to say you don’t like her?!” Noah: “She got a 57 in math, how is she smart? You Sterlings are both idiots! Weren’t you two always at the bottom of your class since you were kids?” Teenagers speak without a filter. Growing up privileged, and influenced by his brother’s grudge against Caleb, Noah looked down on the Sterlings too. He only wanted to use words to attack the other side’s defenses, speaking without thinking, not realizing how vicious his words were. “Your parents are idiots too, so stupid they didn’t even know if their own daughter was dead or alive. What’s the point of finding her now? Living out there for so many years, she’s probably been raised into useless trash!” Before he even finished, Caleb’s fist landed on his face. No one can tolerate others using their family’s trauma as a casual joke, especially mocking it right to their face. Liam appeared just as his brother was getting hit. Not knowing the context, but seeing his brother being unilaterally suppressed, he naturally stepped in to help. When a tearful Maya recounted those words, the room fell into a heavy silence. I hadn’t expected this incident to have an underlying connection to me. My background was no secret. Back then, Caleb and I were both premature babies. Human traffickers lurking in the hospital swapped me with a dead infant. The young couple, suddenly struck by the grief of losing a daughter, never suspected foul play in her death. Many years later, when the trafficking ring was busted and this buried past was brought to light, they were shocked to realize their daughter might still be alive. That was how I was found. Recalling the past, the orphanage director said that when they found me, I was so weak I barely had a breath left. Probably due to my frail constitution from being premature, the traffickers realized I was dying before they could even sell me. In a rare moment of conscience, they abandoned me at the orphanage door. Regardless of what was said, those 17 years of displacement were a gap that couldn’t be easily bridged. It was a trauma for the family. It was not something to be joked about. “Noah,” Ethan’s voice rang out, sounding devoid of emotion. “Did you really say that?” The two brothers were clearly a bit intimidated by their uncle, who was only a few years older than them. Noah bit the bullet and retorted: “Who said that? Who can prove it? It can’t just be whatever someone says it is, right?” Ethan nodded: “True.” However, he turned to the police officer: “Officer, I heard the security cameras caught them. Can I request a copy? If it didn’t record audio, I’ll hire a lip-reader to see exactly what they said.” “Uncle!” The teenager, lacking composure, became angry out of embarrassment. “Whose uncle are you?!” The young man looked at his nephew and said: “Noah, apologize.”

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The day before I was set to study abroad, I went to say goodbye to my aloof childhood best friend. His face remained entirely expressionless. He merely asked which university I was attending, then turned to leave. I pressed my lips together and eventually hid the confession gift I had prepared behind my back. Suddenly, lines of text began to float in the air right in front of me, like a live-stream comment section. [Female Lead, hurry up and confess! He’s absolutely crazy about you!] [He’s playing so hard to get. Pretending to be all cold and indifferent to her face, but secretly crying his eyes out at home all night.] [Wait, wasn’t it because the female lead was leaving him that the male lead snapped, followed her abroad, and then locked her up in a basement?] [OMG! Are we jumping straight from pure romance to forced confinement?!] 1 Startled by the floating text, I instinctively called out his name: “Ethan, wait a second.” The figure walking away stopped. He slowly turned around and asked, “Is there something else?” He looked completely indifferent. On the continuously scrolling text above him, the word [Confess] kept appearing, making me dizzy with a sudden burst of courage. I brought the gift hidden behind my back out to him. “Ethan, I like you. I have for a long time.” Ethan’s expression froze, and the scrolling text halted as well. “Your birthday was a few days ago, and I had this gift picked out ages ago, but…” My smile was tinged with bitterness. “If I don’t give it to you now, I might never get another chance.” Ethan’s face was hidden in the shadows, his expression unreadable. I lowered my head, staring at the ground, feeling a burning heat spread across my ears. On the ground, as if thawed, the comments started scrolling frantically again. [Wait, did my internet lag? Did I miss a crucial plot point? Why does the female lead suddenly have a mouth and know how to use it?!] [I’m just as confused. O_O] [Something’s wrong! Something’s very wrong! Based on how hard the male lead simps for her, shouldn’t he be thrilled she confessed? He should be announcing he’s buying out the whole airport today! But look at his face…] [To the person above, do you remember what happened on Ethan’s birthday? The female lead ran off early with the second male lead!] [Oh, I remember! The male lead wanted the female lead to blow out the candles with him, but he couldn’t find her. He got so mad his heart condition almost flared up!] His birthday! Reminded by the comments, the memory suddenly clicked into place. That day, I had stuck close to Ethan, chatting and trying to make him smile. But he seemed completely distracted, like something very important was weighing heavily on his mind. I got so mad that I deliberately dragged an upperclassman outside to get some fresh air. By the time I cooled down and went back inside, the private room was completely empty. So, he had gone looking for me later. [Actually, based on my years of reading web novels, Ethan was probably planning to confess that day, but the main character ran off with some random guy halfway through!] [The commenter above is right. I saw Ethan secretly blowing up heart-shaped balloons. He blew up twenty of them all by himself, and stuffed a ring inside every single one.] [Tsk, so pure and innocent!] Rings? I snapped my head up, looking at Ethan. He was staring at me expressionlessly. After a long time, he let out a mocking chuckle. “You like me? How do you plan to prove it? “Hmm? Chloe, how exactly do you plan to prove that you like me?” 2 All my previous soft-heartedness and affection vanished into thin air at his cold interrogation. I took a sharp breath and glared furiously at Ethan. He looked back at me with complete indifference, as if he were looking at a complete stranger who had nothing to do with him. [Oh no, our precious Chloe is going to run away angry again!] [Ethan! You have a perfectly good mouth, why can’t you just use it to talk properly?! Go home and cry about it later!] [Alright everyone, nothing to see here. The plot is returning to its original track—imprisonment and forced love!] Just as I was about to turn around in anger, seeing the comments predict my exact move actually made me feel too embarrassed to leave. My gaze returned to Ethan’s face. It was an incredibly pale and beautiful face. He had narrow, elegant eyes with an upward tilt at the corners, giving him a somewhat classical look. I don’t know if it was the comments influencing me, but I genuinely thought I saw a faint hint of red around the beautiful corners of his eyes. I sighed, took two steps forward, and tilted my head up. At this moment, the distance between us was incredibly close. So close I could almost feel his breath. He lowered his eyes, looking at me in confusion, his pure black pupils reflecting my figure. I cheered myself on frantically in my head, then suddenly leaned in and pressed my lips against his. Cool, soft, and slightly trembling. That was the immediate sensation Ethan’s lips gave me. To be honest, in all my years of life, I had absolutely zero kissing experience. I only knew to press my lips against his; I had no idea what came next. I froze against his lips, feeling the deafening heartbeat of the person in my arms. There was no sound of breathing. He had forgotten to breathe too. I don’t know how much time passed before he suddenly took a step back, staring at me with an unreadable expression. “What is the meaning of this?” His entire face was bright red. He was already very fair-skinned, so he flushed easier than most. Even the back of his neck, visible above his collar, held a faint pink hue. My mood instantly soared. I grinned at him and said, “Didn’t you want me to prove I like you? Is this enough?” “Or… how about this?” Deeply encouraged, I stepped forward again, cupped his face, and planted a loud, wet kiss right on his lips. “If you still don’t believe me, I’ll tear up my plane ticket right now, okay?” I wrapped my arms around Ethan’s neck and said softly, “I’ll just stay by your side. I’ll go wherever you go, until you believe me.” Before I even finished speaking, Ethan violently ripped my arms from his neck and glared at me furiously: “Chloe, are you done messing around?!” 3 He pushed me so hard I stumbled violently, barely managing to steady myself. I looked at him in absolute shock, not understanding why the mood had taken such a sudden, sharp nosedive. [Keep pushing it. Keep acting up, male lead. This is exactly how you lose your wife.] [Chloe finally gathered the courage to confess, and this is what he does?!] The comments echoed exactly what I was feeling. I gritted my teeth tightly, refusing to let the humiliating tears fall. He remained completely oblivious, his voice still icy as he said, “Chloe, do you really like Alex that much? Do you like him so much that you’d stoop to pretending with me just so you could stay here and be with him?” I looked up at him in utter bewilderment. The tears lost their battle for control and fell anyway. [Huh?] [Bro Ethan, that one sentence just completely derailed me.] [Wait, does he think Chloe is confessing to him so she can stay in the country and sneak around with the second male lead?!] “And then what?” Ethan demanded coldly. “You’d stay here, date me, and still be with Alex on the side? And later, are you planning to marry me while cheating on me with Alex?” “Chloe, do you have any basic moral compass at all?! You truly disappoint me!” The angrier he got, the more the ambiguous pink flush on his face faded without a trace. [What an advanced train of thought. I don’t even know how to judge this…] [Everyone, does anyone remember that after his birthday, Ethan secretly told Chloe’s parents that she was dating some random bad boy? That’s what caused her parents to urgently pack her off abroad to study. So, it makes sense he’s thinking this way.] […] [As expected of a psycho. So manipulative.] I scanned the words on the comments, finally realizing that my parents throwing me out of the country was actually Ethan’s doing! The fury of being tattled on behind my back mixed with the sting of being rejected. Old grudges and new anger merged into a sea of fire that rushed straight to my head, and I instantly lost all rationality. “Believe whatever you want! Who wants to like a despicable coward like you anyway?! You think I can’t live without you?!” I fiercely threw the un-gifted present onto the ground, turned around, and marched away. [Sigh. It’s over again.] [And so, the story will inevitably head toward the imprisonment arc we’ve all been anticipating…] [Wait! What is he doing?! What is Ethan doing?] [Chloe, turn around quickly!] [Daughter! Turn around!] 4 Of course, I didn’t turn around, nor did I pay attention to the scrolling comments, because my face was completely covered in tears at that moment. Liar! They’re all liars! Who said Ethan liked me? Would someone who liked me yell at me like that? Would he question me like that? I bet he doesn’t like me one bit. Getting my parents to send me abroad was probably just so he could get rid of me once and for all. I wiped the tears from my face aggressively and walked into the security checkpoint. [Why is Bro Ethan still crouching there?] [Did Chloe’s gift break when she threw it? It looked like it was made of glass.] Those comments wanted me to see… that he was picking up the gift I threw? I pondered this internally, still not turning around, dragging my coat toward the boarding gate. [Something’s wrong! Bro Ethan is having a heart attack!] I snapped my head back. Through the glass, I saw a black figure curled up in agony on the exact spot we had been standing. It was Ethan. His face was deathly pale. His hands still tightly gripped the gift I had given him—a watch. But the glass face of the watch had shattered completely. The broken shards had cut his hand, and blood was staining the floor tiles of the airport terminal. I screamed in panic and immediately sprinted back toward him, but a security worker at the checkpoint stopped me. Through that pane of glass, I watched helplessly as people swarmed him from all directions. Soon, someone brought a wheelchair and wheeled him away. From beginning to end, his hands tightly gripped that shattered watch that had cut him so deeply. Only after he was taken away did I finally snap back to reality. The security guard looked at me with sympathy and gently reminded me that if I wanted to return to the main terminal, I could take another passageway. “No, I won’t,” I muttered to myself, wiping the tears from my face. “It’s useless to go back. He doesn’t believe I like him anyway.” 5 During the eight-hour flight, I drifted in and out of sleep. The comments never stopped chatting. From their text, I gathered a lot of information. First, if Ethan’s and my story were a novel, then we were destined for a tragic ending. In this story, I was a proud heiress who liked Ethan but was constantly wounded by his icy demeanor. To save my pride, I always pretended to be close with an upperclassman named Alex. Reading this, I felt a pang of guilt. Before this, I truly had used Alex many times. Whenever Ethan gave me the cold shoulder, I would drag Alex right in front of him, trying to hint that plenty of other people loved me. Alex was more than happy to play along. To be honest, I always believed that liking someone meant treating them well—wanting to buy them things I liked, wanting to be the first to share anything fun I encountered. So, I always thought Ethan’s coldness toward me all these years meant he didn’t like me at all, perhaps even found me annoying. But the comments said Ethan loved me to the point of madness. Instead, it was Alex who didn’t like me at all. He was only willing to cater to me because being with me meant he could skip twenty years of hard work. The comments also said Alex had a childhood sweetheart, and they were the main characters of another book. Once Alex climbed his way to the top of high society, he would dump me—the woman he used—and fulfill his childhood promise to marry his sweetheart. I didn’t want to believe what the comments said, but I had to. Because based on all the facts, everything they said was true. My mind was racing, my thoughts a tangled mess. Looking out at the clouds through the window, I couldn’t help but let out a long sigh. [Sigh, my poor daughter is getting all emo.] [Don’t be sad, Chloe. The real hard days are still ahead. When Bro Ethan completely loses it and locks you up, that’s when you’ll really have no one to cry to.] [Stop talking about it, it makes me want to cry. Why can’t two people who love each other just be together properly?] [Heh, because Ethan has an inferiority complex! He always felt his poor health made him unworthy of Chloe. He wanted to avoid her but couldn’t help getting close, and then he’d have a massive breakdown whenever he saw her with other guys. Honestly…] [Actually, you can’t really blame Ethan for his twisted emotional expression. He was raised by his cold, unsympathetic grandfather. He has no idea what love is; he only knows what possession is. Then, subconsciously, because he likes Chloe, he can’t bear to truly possess her. He went back and forth, agonizing over it until he broke himself.] Seeing this comment, I suddenly remembered when Ethan was little. 6 Ethan’s grandfather built the family corporation from scratch, but tragedy struck in middle age when his son and daughter-in-law both died in a car accident. Only young Ethan survived, but he was left with a severe heart condition as a consequence. Left as the only heir, his grandfather naturally valued him immensely, raising him to take over the family empire. But terrified of anything triggering his heart condition, his grandfather was incredibly overprotective, strictly forbidding him from experiencing any intense emotional fluctuations. Because I was Ethan’s friend, his grandfather allowed me to play with him. Every time I visited, he would instruct me to take careful care of Ethan. Originally, I was full of complaints about this. After all, we were both kids. Why did I have to take care of him? Besides, he was the older brother, and I was the younger sister; shouldn’t it be the other way around? But all that resentment vanished shortly after I saw Ethan. For one thing, Ethan was just too beautiful. I was instantly captivated by his looks on the spot. Secondly, Ethan was incredibly good to me. If there was delicious food, he let me pick first. If there were new toys, he offered them to me first. If I casually mentioned wanting to play the newest video game, he’d have it delivered to my house the very next day. When did things change? It seemed to be after my high school entrance exams. I asked him to hang out, but he didn’t show up. I didn’t see him for a long time after that. When I finally saw him again, I threw myself at him crying, saying how much I missed him. But he had become cold and distant. I felt confused and angry. From then on, we started a cycle of constant, petty antagonism. Until Alex appeared, which made his temper even more unpredictable. Pondering this, I took out my phone and texted my grandfather: [Grandpa, around the time of my high school entrance exams, was Ethan sick?] The signal on the plane was surprisingly good. A moment later, my grandfather replied: [That’s right. He had to undergo heart surgery during that time. He wouldn’t let me tell you. I remember you threw a tantrum crying for a long time.] He added another message: [Little Ethan’s health was very poor those few years. Once, I caught him secretly crying. He said he was afraid he would die and make you sad. Sigh, you two were so close back then. Who would have thought you’d grow apart as you got older.] Understood. I understood everything now. Back then, Ethan became cold toward me because he was terrified I would be heartbroken if I lost him, so he deliberately distanced himself. Since that was the case, I couldn’t help but wonder what changed his mind. What made him become the person the comments described—someone who would imprison me just to be with me? To be honest, I was actually looking forward to it a little. [Is it just my imagination, or does our daughter seem to have regained her fighting spirit?] [News flash! Even though Chloe’s plane hasn’t landed yet, Bro Ethan is already in A-City buying a manor! Friendly reminder: it comes with a luxurious basement.] [What?! Shouldn’t Bro Ethan be in the hospital right now?!] [Wow, this is intense! The imprisonment countdown begins now!] 7 Seeing that comment, I immediately sat up straighter. If he could travel alone to a foreign country to buy a manor, it meant his health must be fine right now. A huge weight lifted from my heart. As for the “imprisonment” the comments mentioned, I thought it was highly unlikely. Because I simply couldn’t fathom how someone who had so sternly rejected me just moments ago would suddenly want to possess me completely. It wasn’t until I got off the plane and arrived at my new place that I received a call from a friend. My friend said that when Alex found out my parents had sent me abroad, he quickly went to them to declare his loyalty, swearing he would never give up on me. And unfortunately, my parents were visiting Ethan in the hospital at that exact moment. Ethan had just woken up, only to hear Alex proclaiming his devotion to my parents right in front of his hospital bed, declaring he would marry no one but me. He even used Ethan as an example, saying how fragile life is, that someone could fall ill or meet a tragic accident any day, so one must seize the person they love while they can. According to my friend, Ethan turned deathly pale with anger. Without saying a word, he ripped out his IV, went straight to the hospital roof helipad, and demanded to be flown to A-City. After hearing my friend’s account, I was utterly speechless. It was hard to say whether Ethan was provoked by Alex or actually took the “life is fragile” part to heart. Regardless, if all this made Ethan finally realize what he wanted and decide to be with me, then I was very happy. I wanted him to be happy, to follow his heart and fight for the person he liked. If that coincidentally aligned with my heart’s desire, then that would be perfect. Filled with anticipation, I stepped onto campus and attended my first class. Even though I had been hastily thrown out of the country, my university and major had been carefully selected—it was Jewelry Design, my absolute favorite. The first class with the professor was very pleasant. Instead of starting with a lecture, he immediately assigned a project: to design a piece of jewelry to the best of our abilities, without considering any practical constraints. For some reason, I thought of Ethan’s birthday. I thought of the twenty-something rings hidden inside balloons that I never got to see. I decided to design a ring. I rolled up my materials and walked out of the classroom. As I was walking down the steps, the comments, which had been chatting about random things, suddenly grew excited. [Here it comes!] [Oh ho! Bro Ethan! Fresh out of the hospital bed and you’re already here lurking in the corners?] [Crawled right out of his hospital bed, flew on a plane, bought a massive estate, and came straight to stalk Chloe without even sleeping! Bro Ethan, with this level of perseverance, you could succeed at literally anything.] Seeing the text on the comments, I started to worry about Ethan’s health again. I was just about to walk toward him. Right then, my phone rang. In that instant, I felt the expression of Ethan, hiding behind a tree, turn incredibly dark. I looked down. The caller ID read: [Alex].

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My childhood best friend and I accidentally drank spiked drinks at a banquet. When I woke up, I stared blankly at the messy bedsheets. My hands were shaking so badly I couldn’t clasp my bra. He fastened it for me, his tone pleading: “Please don’t tell my girlfriend, okay? There was something wrong with the drinks. What happened between us was just an accident.” His girlfriend… is my best friend. 1 My best friend, Mia, a wealthy heiress, is celebrating her birthday today. She specifically told me to bring my childhood friend, Liam, along. “With the dreamy crystal chandeliers and the pink balloon bubbles at the party, the atmosphere will be perfect. Why don’t you confess your feelings to him again?” Everyone knows I confessed to Liam once. Mia, who has only known him for two weeks, knows it too. I lowered my eyes, quietly stirring the latte art in my coffee cup with a spoon. “Better not. He told me never to confess to him again, or we wouldn’t even be friends.” Even though that’s what I said out loud, another voice was clearly ringing in my head—Confess to him again. That evening, Liam drove to pick me up for the party. Sitting in his flashy red Maserati, he let out a low whistle. “Wow, Chloe, you look so beautiful today. If people didn’t know better, they’d think you were the birthday girl.” Wearing a cocktail dress, I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Do I really look good today?” “Yeah.” Receiving Liam’s affirmative answer filled me with joy. Liam stepped out of the car and opened the passenger door. One hand rested on my shoulder, while the other hovered protectively over my head. I was a bit surprised. Whenever I rode in his car before, he never got out to open the door for me. Let alone make any extra, protective gestures. Sitting in the passenger seat, I kept stealing glances at him while he drove. Sensing my gaze, he seemed a bit distracted himself. He even took a wrong turn. When we finally arrived at the party, the birthday girl, Mia, spotted us the moment we walked through the door. “Chloe, Liam, you’re finally here!” She skipped over to us. I had been holding onto Liam’s arm. But he suddenly pulled his arm away. My hand hung awkwardly in the air. For a second, I almost thought he pulled away specifically because Mia came over. But the very next second, he took my hand again and led me into the party. 2 Before the party officially started, a few close friends gathered to play a card-drawing game. The cards were all filled with questions and games related to love and relationships. Exactly what was weighing heavily on my mind. When it was Liam’s turn, the card he drew read: “Is the person you like present right now?” My fingertips trembled, and I held my breath waiting for his answer. If he said “yes,” I was going to muster a lifetime’s worth of courage and confess to him again tonight. “Yes.” His tone was very light. But the moment that magnetic voice reached my ears, it was as if the lock holding Pandora’s box shut clicked open. He said his type was here. He complimented my looks when he picked me up. He held my hand when we walked in. My palms started sweating, and I gripped the fabric of my dress tightly. Mia gently nudged my arm. I shot her a “stop messing around” look. When it was my turn, the card I drew read: [How long did your longest relationship last?] “I’ve never been in a relationship.” I smiled bitterly, a sharp pain in my chest. “But I’ve loved someone for seven years… no, even longer.” Sitting across from me, Liam looked up and stared at me intently. Everyone knows that my first—and only—confession to Liam was seven years ago. The people around us fell silent, their eyes darting back and forth between Liam and me. Someone bold enough couldn’t resist chiming in, “Is this person here right now?” A question to which they already knew the answer. I closed my eyes. When I opened them again, my gaze collided straight with Liam’s. “He’s here.” This was practically a complete confession. I had always listened to Liam. Back then, when he rejected me, he added, “If you ever confess again, we won’t even be friends.” I obeyed for seven years. I never breathed a word about my feelings. But I didn’t expect him to constantly bring it up as a joke. Maybe it was just his way of stopping me from confessing again. But I love him. So, through this winding, indirect method, I laid my heart bare to him once more. 3 A new round of drawing cards began. The card Liam drew read: [Pick a girl, give her a princess carry, and walk a lap around the room.] My heart pounded like a drum. The next second, Liam stood up and walked straight toward me. Fireworks exploded in my heart; I was thrilled. He’s coming toward me. He’s coming toward me. By the time I silently repeated that twice, Liam was only two steps away. I looked up, studying his sharp, defined features. I wanted to lean close to his ear and solemnly tell him again, “I love you.” That way, everything that just happened wouldn’t seem so frivolous. Liam’s figure was right in front of me. Having sat nervously for so long, my body was stiff, and my feet stood up on their own accord. And in that moment— Liam brushed right past me. And stopped in front of Mia, who was standing beside me. I stood there helplessly, feeling as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over my head. The silent gazes of the people around me were practically screaming about how pathetic my wishful thinking was just a moment ago. “I wonder if I have the honor of carrying our lovely birthday girl today?” I turned sideways, staring at Liam in disbelief. But his eyes weren’t on me at all. Mia looked hesitantly at me, standing right next to her. I forced an awkward smile. “I need to use the restroom.” Muttering a random excuse, I hurried out of the room. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Liam already bending down, scooping Mia up into his arms. I hid in a bathroom stall. I leaned my head against the wall and covered my eyes with my hands. It’s fine. It’s just another failed confession. It can’t possibly be worse than seven years ago. Good thing I didn’t say it out loud this time. When I finally snapped out of it, my palms were wet with tears. My phone suddenly buzzed with a message from Liam. [The party is about to start. Mia’s looking for you. Where did you go?] I wiped my cheeks and walked out of the stall. The reflection in the mirror had lost all its vibrant color, looking like a completely different person from the one who had carefully applied makeup that afternoon. The tears had ruined my eye makeup. I just used a tissue with warm water to wipe away all the eyeshadow and false lashes. Then I faced the mirror, forced a somewhat lively smile, and finally dared to open the door and go back out to celebrate my best friend’s birthday. 4 In the dazzling hall, a massive, multi-tiered cake stood right in the center. People were crowded around it, three layers deep. “They’re so perfect for each other. A match made in heaven.” “When he confessed just now, I think I was more excited than she was.” The people around me were clicking their tongues, marveling at the perfect couple. A sense of unease washed over me. Following their gaze, I saw Mia and Liam. Liam was holding Mia’s hand, cutting the cake layer by layer. “Confess? Who confessed?” I grabbed a stranger next to me, asking frantically. “The main couple tonight, obviously. Hey, who are you? Let go of me.” The person pushed me away in disgust. The crowd started chanting, “Kiss! Kiss!” Liam wrapped his arm around Mia’s shoulders, cradled the back of her head, and kissed her passionately. My mind went completely blank. Even though it was incredibly noisy around me. It felt like I was trapped in a vacuum, suffocating any chance I had to scream. Standing in the middle of the crowd, I stared blankly at the two people under the spotlight. Tears fell unconsciously down my freshly wiped cheeks. “Ah, Chloe’s finally here!” Mia, the center of attention, called out in surprise when she saw me. She walked toward me with a bright smile. Liam followed right behind her. “If it weren’t for Chloe, I never would have met Liam! You’re our Cupid.” She handed me the biggest piece of cake. “What Cupid? What are you talking about?” I didn’t believe it. I didn’t believe a single word that stranger or Mia said. “Chloe.” Liam suddenly spoke up. “I just confessed to Mia, and she said yes.” … A long, agonizing silence. “Liam… stop joking.” “After you introduced us, I’ve been pursuing Mia for two weeks.” Liam’s voice even trembled slightly with excitement. “She just accepted.” Tears, tasting faintly of blood, slid down my throat. A bitter, salty taste. “So for these past two weeks, when the three of us hung out… was I just the monkey you were both playing with?” I heard my own voice, harsh and strained. “We didn’t mean to hide it from you, we just didn’t know how to tell you…” “Listening to me share my feelings about liking Liam, and then sneaking around behind my back… treating me like a clown—is that fun for you?” I said, staring right at Mia. “Chloe, I…” Two weeks… I was played for a fool for two weeks by the two people I trusted most. So the arrow shot by Cupid… Only ended up making me bleed. 5 A group of friends we knew gathered around. They all knew I had confessed to Liam. Liam had told them himself. A few of them spoke up to break the awkward silence. “Chloe, today is Mia’s birthday, don’t make a scene.” “Liam rejected you seven years ago. You can’t expect him to never date anyone.” “Why don’t you give me a try? I’m single too.” The group chimed in one after another, their words cornering me. These people sucked up to the Sterling family’s power. Even their previous politeness toward me was entirely because of Liam. And there were definitely a few who were just waiting to watch the drama unfold. As long as we started fighting, everyone would think I was just a jealous, bitter woman who couldn’t handle rejection. I let out a self-deprecating laugh. I snatched a wine glass from someone next to me. The crowd gasped, thinking I was going to throw the wine or start pulling hair. Liam rushed forward and grabbed the glass from my hand. “What are you doing?” he demanded, his tone hostile. The wine in the glass spilled onto my dress in the struggle. I don’t know how I found my voice. But I managed to compose myself and speak. “Congratulations.” I took the glass back, downed the remaining dregs in one gulp, and tilted the empty glass toward him. “Wishing you a lifetime of happiness.” I turned around. And walked out of the hall. Leaving the glass by the door. From beginning to end, I never looked back inside once. I didn’t want this filthy friendship and relationship anymore. But then again, they were never mine to begin with. 6 I blocked Liam and Mia on everything. I stayed home and slept for days. Then I suddenly received an invitation from the Sterling Corporation. I had almost forgotten about this. My grandfather intended to gradually hand over the company’s management to me, and I was the one assigned to negotiate our bid for the Sterling Corporation’s new project. Which meant I had to see Liam again. After the Sterling Corporation’s bidding conference, my family’s company, Terry Machinery, successfully won the bid. While signing the letter of intent, Liam’s eyes kept lingering on me. As soon as I signed, I wanted to leave immediately. Liam held out his hand: “Congratulations on winning the bid.” I pressed my lips together, hesitated for a moment, but still reached out my hand. But the moment my hand touched his, I instinctively dropped it and turned to walk out the door. Liam blocked my path: “Are we just throwing away years of friendship like this?” “If there are no issues with the bidding proposal, I don’t think we have anything else to discuss.” I turned to leave again. “There are some issues.” Liam reached out to block my exit. “Stay for the business dinner after this; it’s the perfect time to go over the details of the contract.” “Can’t I go over the details with your secretary?” “Some things need to be made clear today.” This project was crucial, and there was no room for error. I had no choice but to stay and wait for Liam to finish his subsequent meetings. His secretary led me to the banquet hall downstairs. Mia and I saw each other almost simultaneously. I looked away, walked over to a sofa on the side, sat down, and turned my back. But Mia walked over to me, smiling brightly. “Chloe, about me and Liam… are you still mad?” “I should have smashed your birthday party that day, to save you from asking such delusional questions.” I lifted my eyelids and gave her a cold look. Mia’s expression shifted several times before she finally looked at me with a wronged expression. “Chloe, I apologize.” Mia picked up a glass of wine, downed it in one gulp, and handed another glass to me. “But there will be many opportunities for collaboration between the Vance family and the Sterling Corporation in the future. There’s no need to make things so hostile, right?” “Business collaboration” was the polite way of putting it. The ugly truth was that a single project thrown our way by the Sterling Corporation was enough to cover the Vance family’s revenue for half a year. I knew this perfectly well. “Are you threatening me?” I forced a tight, insincere smile, took the glass from Mia’s hand, and drank it. “What are you talking about? A glass of wine washes away all grudges,” Mia smiled, tapped her glass against my empty one, and was then called away by another group of people. 7 Back when Liam and I were close, I didn’t think much about the business implications. Now, it was time to carefully calculate them. But the more I thought about it, the tighter my chest felt. A waiter walked by, and I intercepted a glass of wine from his tray and placed it in front of me. Glass after glass, I forcefully drank until only one glass remained on the tray. I drank the last glass too fast, choking until the corners of my eyes turned red. Suddenly, a hand reached out from behind me and took my glass away. I turned around. It was Liam. “You’ve had too much.” “None of your business. Give it back.” I unsteadily held onto the sofa, trying to snatch the glass back from him. Liam dodged me and downed the remaining wine in the glass himself. Standing up too fast caused the alcohol to hit my brain, and my consciousness began to blur. Liam supported me. I instinctively felt annoyed and tried to shake off his hand. The commotion drew the attention of Mia and a group of people. “Should I find someone to take her home?” Mia offered. “No.” Liam pondered for a moment. “There are executive suites upstairs. I’ll just take her up to rest. We still have contract details to discuss.” Except, after Liam took me up to the room, he never came back down. Because the wine was tainted. It was spiked. My complete memory ends at the banquet hall. After that, I only remember fragmented, shattered pieces. When I woke up again, I looked at myself in the mirror. My body was covered in mottled red marks. Liam’s lean, muscular back bore several bright red scratches. There was skin under my fingernails. I looked at Liam, utterly lost. “How… how could we?” He fastened the clasp of my bra for me, bringing his hands together in a pleading gesture. “Please don’t tell Mia, okay? The wine we drank had something in it. What happened between us was an accident.” I stared at Liam blankly. Broken phrases floated vaguely in front of my eyes. But I distinctly remembered what he said when he pinned me to the bed: “When we were doing it… didn’t you say you broke up with her?” “I only said that so you wouldn’t feel guilty,” Liam scoffed, jumping off the bed. “I couldn’t just let you find some random guy to handle it. I should have recorded you, so you could see how incredibly wild you were acting.”

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