Category: English

The day the two boxes of oranges my mom sent arrived at the office was the day I found my boyfriend’s closest friend, Victoria, tearing my desk apart. “A twenty-thousand-dollar Van Cleef & Arpels,” she said, her voice dripping with disdain for anyone who cared to listen. “Besides her, the charity case from the middle of nowhere, who else in this office would even be desperate enough to steal it?” I stood frozen at the entrance, clutching the box of oranges. Tired of rummaging, Victoria plopped down into my chair, casting a casual, playful glance at Lucas Knight. “Lucas, darling, Nina’s your girlfriend. Can’t you just ask her to give me back my bracelet?” They had grown up together, sharing a bond that was different, deeper than any other. Even I, his actual girlfriend, had to admit that the effortless intimacy between them sparked a sharp sting of jealousy. Whenever they started reminiscing about their childhood, their shared history, I was always the silent outsider, unable to find a single foothold in their conversation. But this time, Lucas didn’t play along. He didn’t even look at her. His voice was a calm, level sea. “What bracelet? I’ll just buy you a new one.” The office erupted in a wave of whispers. “What does the boss mean by that? Did Nina really steal it?” “Why are you surprised? Everyone knows she’s broke. And she was the only one who left the office during the all-hands meeting.” “But that’s Van Cleef & Arpels… that’s more than half a year of her salary.” “I heard her mom had a reputation back home for being… light-fingered.” 1 I remained at the doorway, feeling as though I’d been struck by lightning. A tremor ran through my entire body. I had no idea that the same people who smiled and greeted me every day were saying such things behind my back. Just then, someone’s voice cut through the buzz. “Nina’s back?” The atmosphere froze. Every eye in the room turned to me. In that instant, I felt like a criminal under a spotlight, awaiting my sentence. I lowered my head, biting my lip, and saw Lucas turn to look at me. Maybe it was a trick of the light, but in his eyes, I saw disappointment. 2 I didn’t want to explain. I knew no one would believe me. “You know what? Forget it,” Victoria said with a flick of her wrist. “It’s not like I’m hurting for one bracelet.” If she had just said she might have misplaced it, the whole thing would have blown over. But what was this half-accusation, this insinuation? I refused to be a suspect, the focal point of office gossip. As Victoria turned to leave, I grabbed her arm. “The company has security cameras. If you’re accusing me, we can go check the footage together.” A smirk played on her lips, her eyes filled with a mockery I couldn’t quite decipher. I expected her to refuse. I never imagined the one to shut it down would be Lucas. He wrapped an arm around me, his voice a soothing balm. “Nina, that’s enough. It’s okay.” He always used that tone to comfort me when I was down. And just like that, the dam of humiliation and hurt I’d been holding back broke. “I’m not okay,” I said, looking down at him, my voice already thick with tears. “My mom sent me something. I left the meeting to put the oranges she brought me in my drawer.” All I did was go back to my desk to put something away. Something my mother had taken two subway lines to bring to me, all the way from her own small garden. But Lucas didn’t seem to care why I’d gone back. He said it didn’t matter, that he would handle it, no matter what I’d done. But that’s the point, I wanted to scream. I didn’t do anything! My reputation was more important than any amount of money! I insisted on checking the security footage. A flicker of impatience crossed Lucas’s face, followed by a derisive laugh. “Nina, come on. This is as far as I can help you.” His voice dropped, laced with a cold logic that chilled me to the bone. “Weren’t you just saying your mom’s sick and the roof at home is leaking? That you needed money for a new house? You’re desperate for cash. You have a motive.” He leaned in closer. “And the security camera in the office just happened to break today. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you, Nina?” My head buzzed. Suddenly, something Victoria had once said to me echoed in my mind. You and Lucas are from two different worlds. I hadn’t understood it then, but in that moment, I finally did. It wasn’t a threat; it was just the truth. Lucas Knight, the golden boy who’d grown up coddled in wealth, looked down on the poor. It was etched into his very bones. Did he not understand how important a reputation was? No, he did. He just never believed me from the very beginning. Someone pulled open my drawer. The oranges my mom had brought me tumbled out, scattering across the floor. I watched, numb, as one or two were crushed under an careless foot. The last thread of my composure snapped. Lucas’s voice continued, oblivious. “Nina, I was already planning on buying you two a house. Why did you have to go and do something like this?” I couldn’t listen anymore. When I looked up, my eyes were burning. “Mr. Knight, my family may be poor,” I said, my voice shaking with rage, “but we are not thieves.” 3 The north wind cut right through me. I sat on the roof, silently eating the two oranges I’d managed to salvage. The rest had been trampled and ruined. When Lucas found me, his voice was tight with barely controlled anger. “What are you doing up here? Trying to threaten someone by jumping?” He gestured at the oranges in my hand. “And don’t eat those. They’ve been on the floor, for God’s sake.” I acted as if I hadn’t heard him. “Nina, are you listening to me?” he snapped. “It’s a bag of oranges. Is it really worth all this? I’ll have someone send two boxes to your desk.” Lucas rarely got angry with me. Normally, his tone would have sent me storming off. But right now, all I wanted was to quietly finish these last two pieces of fruit. He walked over and tried to drape his coat over my shoulders, but I shifted away. His voice was laced with disbelief. “Are you recoiling from me?” After a second of tense silence, he took a step back, his lips pressed into a thin line. He placed the coat on my lap instead and stood there, a silent statue against the wind. By the time I finished the last slice, the wind was howling. “About the bracelet,” Lucas began, “I’ll—” “Don’t bother,” I cut him off. “I’ll handle it myself.” His voice rose with impatience and confusion. “With what? Do you have any idea what your status is? How are you going to ‘handle’ it? Do you know how much that bracelet costs? You think you can pay for it with your meager salary?” I almost laughed. “Think whatever you want. It has nothing to do with you anymore.” I carefully gathered the orange peels from the ground, stood up, and started walking away. His voice, small and thin in the wind, called my name. I didn’t look back. 4 After that day, Lucas didn’t show up at the office for a long time. That was the last conversation we ever had. Victoria didn’t pursue the matter either, but the rumors didn’t stop. My department head started giving me strange looks, occasionally reminding me that the company would “investigate the matter thoroughly.” When I walked into the office, I’d see coworkers instinctively lock their designer watches, phones, and other luxury items away in their drawers. I would freeze in place, a heavy stone sinking in my stomach. I had worked for more than a decade to get into a top university, then landed a job at this multinational corporation, becoming a key player in my department. I never imagined I’d be treated like a common thief. I wanted to keep fighting, for all the years I had spent clawing my way up, but I didn’t know if there was any point in continuing this lonely, unsupported battle. 5 Soon, the final straw came. My mother suddenly fell ill. I had no choice but to take a leave of absence from the company, spending all my time at the hospital. While I was running around, taking care of her, I ran into Victoria in the main lobby. She knew my mom. The last time they’d met, she and Lucas had come to my mother’s small fruit stand. I remembered how she’d stood there, arms crossed, her eyes scanning the fruit with a critical gaze. “Are these even fresh?” she’d asked, her tone laced with doubt. “They’re covered in dust. You actually sell this to people?” Then, turning to Lucas, “You can eat it if you want, but maybe Lucas shouldn’t.” I saw Lucas take a bite, then his brow furrowed. He looked like he was about to be sick. My mother, flustered, pulled a few tissues from her pocket to offer him, but he just stared at them, motionless. It was Victoria who pulled out a pristine silk handkerchief and delicately wiped his mouth for him. Lucas and I had a huge fight that night. Snapping back to the present, I watched Victoria warily. She smiled. “Nina, it looks like you really are short on cash. Why didn’t you tell anyone your mom was sick? We’re all colleagues. If you had just asked, Lucas and I would have helped.” She held out a thick stack of cash. “What is this?” “Your mom’s treatment costs money, doesn’t it? You don’t have any projects right now. How are you going to pay for it on your salary alone?” She leaned in, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. “I know a great hospital that specializes in this kind of illness. I can help you get in. It’s far, though. I suggest you move there to be with her.” I stared at her, confused. “Do you know why Lucas hasn’t been around lately? He’s tired, Nina. Your family’s situation, and then that whole theft incident… Lucas has a lot of pride. How do you think all this makes him look?” Her voice was as smooth as silk, yet each word was a dagger. “But he’s too kind to be the one to say it’s over. So… I’m here. This was his idea, too.” Her words sent my heart plummeting into an even deeper, colder ocean, the pressure building until I felt like I couldn’t breathe. My body trembled. From my mom’s room, I could faintly hear the sound of her weary sighs. An invisible force was urging me to take the money, to agree. “Thank you,” I heard myself say. “I’ll resign as soon as possible to take care of my mother. I’ll pay this money back, too. It’ll just take some time. Can you give me an account number?” She raised an eyebrow, a mocking glint in her eyes. “I can give you the number, but don’t worry about paying it back. It doesn’t matter.” 6 I didn’t tell anyone I was resigning. I took my mother to that hospital in another city. Gradually, her condition improved. I found a simple job nearby. It didn’t pay much, but it allowed me to be there for her, and that gave me a sense of peace I hadn’t felt in a long time. Every month, I deposited a portion of my earnings into the account Victoria had given me. It took five years, but I finally paid back every last cent. Five years passed in a blur. I never thought I would see Lucas Knight again. It was at a colleague’s wedding. The guest list was a who’s who of the city’s elite. I didn’t want to go, but my friend had insisted. “I’m only getting married once! You vanished without a word five years ago, and now you won’t even come to my wedding? Is that all our friendship means to you?” she’d pleaded. “I know things ended badly with Lucas and Victoria, but what does that have to do with us?” She was the only person I’d kept in touch with. She could be blunt, but she had a good heart. I couldn’t refuse. Walking into the grand hotel ballroom, I was hit by a wave of opulence. This really wasn’t a place for people like me. But since I was here, I had to see it through. When I handed over my gift, my envelope was noticeably the thinnest. The person at the registration table was polite but couldn’t hide their surprise. “Are you sure about this amount? There’s no mistake?” I offered a faint smile. “No mistake.” As I took my seat, I immediately became the center of attention. “Isn’t that Nina?” “Why did she suddenly resign back then? We never heard a thing!” When Victoria saw me, her expression soured. “Speaking of Nina’s resignation, I’ve always been curious myself,” she announced, her voice carrying across the table. “I wonder if it had anything to do with that little bracelet incident? I hope it didn’t upset you too much, Nina. I’d already decided not to press charges. After all, everyone makes mistakes.” It was obvious she wanted to drive me out before Lucas arrived, each word more cutting than the last. I smiled. “Victoria, you seem even more on edge than you were five years ago.” I met her gaze directly. “Five years ago, I told you I didn’t take it. Today, my answer is the same. I, Nina, may be poor, but I am not a thief.” I took a step closer and lowered my voice to a whisper only she could hear. “And you can’t possibly think I don’t know what really happened to that bracelet, do you?”

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After his “Perfect Ghost” died, Nate Harrison spent ten years hating me. I spent those years trying to win him back, piece by piece, only to be met with his icy sneer. “If you really want to please me, Evie,” he’d say, his voice a serrated blade, “do the world a favor and stop breathing.” It was a phantom pain, a dull ache I’d learned to live with—until the night the world actually ended. When the burning rafters of our estate came crashing down, Nate didn’t run. He didn’t save himself. He threw his body over mine, absorbing the fire and the weight of the collapsing roof to keep me alive. As he lay dying in my arms, covered in ash and blood, he used the last of his strength to flinch away from my touch. “Evie,” he wheezed, his eyes glassy and distant. “If I could go back… if I could just un-know you… how much better would our lives have been?” At the funeral, Nate’s mother was a ghost of a woman, her voice dissolving into salt and grief. “Nate, my boy… it was my fault. I shouldn’t have forced you to marry her. If I’d just let you be with Serena Blackwell, maybe you’d still be standing here today.” Nate’s father didn’t even look at me. He just stared at the mahogany casket with a simmering rage. “He saved you three times, Evie. Three times he nearly died for a woman who brought him nothing but misery. Why was it him? Why couldn’t it have been you?” Everyone regretted Nate marrying me. Even me. In the end, I climbed to the top of the Sky Deck—the highest point in the city—and let the wind take me. I closed my eyes, praying for an end to the guilt. But instead of the cold embrace of death, I woke up ten years in the past. This time, I’m cutting the ties. I’m letting him go. I’m going to give everyone the happy ending they missed. 1 “You’re really something, aren’t you, Evie? Manipulating my parents until they’re threatening a hunger strike just to force this engagement. Do you actually think a ring on your finger will make me love you?” The voice was low, cold, and achingly familiar. I blinked, my vision blurring as I stared up at Nate Harrison. He was standing in front of me, twenty-two years old and radiating a restless, arrogant energy. He wore a slim-fit navy suit, his tie loosened, looking every bit the Ivy League rebel he was back then. This wasn’t the broken, haunted man who died in the fire. This was Nate at his peak. My heart hammered against my ribs, a painful, frantic rhythm. I was back. I was really back. I forced down the sob rising in my throat and stared at him, greedy for the sight of him alive and breathing. “You don’t want to marry me,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt, “because the person you actually want to spend your life with is Serena, right?” Nate let out a harsh, dry laugh. “So what if it is? You going to step aside? We both know you’re too selfish for that.” I looked him dead in the eye. “Actually, I am.” My parents had died in the line of duty, leaving behind a legacy that the city’s elite whispered about in hushed tones. They’d left me with a “Golden Ticket”—a legal trust and a social standing so high that the Mayor himself had offered me any favor within his power. I could have married anyone. I could have had anything. And ten years ago, I’d used that leverage to secure a marriage contract with the Harrisons. He froze, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “You’ve got the contract. You’ve got my parents in your pocket. It’s a done deal, Evie. Why the sudden act of martyrdom? How exactly are you going to ‘set me free’?” “I’m not playing games, Nate. Not anymore. Go wait for me by the East Gate. I’m going to fix this.” He leaned back against the marble pillar of the gala hall, his expression twisting into a look of pure disgust. The look stung like a physical blow. In my past life, I’d loved Nate Harrison with a desperation that bordered on insanity. He’d saved me from a kidnapping when we were teens, and again from a car wreck. I’d convinced myself his heroism was a sign of secret love. I’d walked into our marriage with a smile, only to find a prison of his making. It wasn’t until Serena died that I realized I wasn’t his partner. I was the person standing in the way of his soulmate. My ten years of devotion were ten years of psychological torture for him. Before I “returned,” an old woman at a roadside shrine had told me: “If you get a second chance, you must resolve his three greatest regrets within twenty-four hours. Once they are gone, you must leave. Only then will the cycle break, and he will live past thirty. But every miracle has a price.” I didn’t care about the price. I just wanted him to live. I went straight to the family lawyers and the city archives. I did what I should have done a decade ago: I tore up the marriage contract and drafted a new one—one that would unite the Harrison and Blackwell interests. I knew Nate’s three regrets by heart. He’d written them in a leather-bound journal I found after the fire: I regret marrying Evelyn Crawford. I regret letting my parents control my life. I regret not saving Serena. The first regret was about to be crossed off. I walked out of the hall and found him waiting by the gate. I handed him the revised document. He looked at the envelope with a sneer, ready to throw it back in my face. I pressed my hand over his, feeling the warmth of his skin—real, living skin. I offered him a soft, sad smile. “Don’t open it yet. Wait until tomorrow. Think of it as a parting gift.” Nate scoffed. “You’re being weird, Evie. What, did the idea of being Mrs. Harrison finally break your brain? You’re acting like we’re never going to see each other again.” I smiled, my heart breaking quietly. “I just realized you deserve to be happy, Nate. You’re a good man. Whoever ends up with you… she’ll be the luckiest woman in the world.” “Whatever. I’m going home,” he muttered, turning away. If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought he was flustered. As his car pulled away, I caught the sound of people talking on the sidewalk. “The meteor shower starts tonight at the Observatory! They say if you watch it with the person you love, you’ll stay together for seven lifetimes.” In my previous life, I’d begged Nate to take me there. He’d looked at me with such icy disdain. “Is one lifetime of you not enough, Evie? You want seven? It’s a cheap tourist trap. Go by yourself.” The memory made me shiver, even in the humid night air. I climbed into my own car and pulled the door shut. Suddenly, Nate’s car slowed down. He leaned out the window, his expression unreadable. “You want to go?” I blinked. “What?” “The Observatory. I’ll take you tonight. Consider it a… a pre-wedding tax. I’m busy the rest of the week, so this is it.” I stared at him, caught between shock and a familiar, dangerous hope. That was Nate’s problem. He was mean, but his heart was instinctively soft. He didn’t love me, but he’d still died for me. He’d saved me three times before the fire: once from those kidnappers (he took a knife to the hand, losing his chance at a professional piano career), once from a viral fever where he stayed by my bed for two weeks, and once from the fire that finally took him. Nate Harrison was perfect in every way. Except for the fact that he didn’t want me. I knew that after tonight, we were done. Even if we saw the stars together, there would be no “seven lifetimes.” But I couldn’t say no. “Okay,” I said, leaning into the light. “Let’s go see the stars.” 2 We were halfway there when his phone buzzed. It was Serena’s assistant. Serena had a migraine; she was “spiraling” and needed Nate. Nate’s face hardened instantly. He pulled the car over. “Serena’s sick. I have to go check on her. Take a cab home, okay? I’ll meet you at the Observatory later.” I nodded slowly. “Go. She needs you.” He paused, his hand on the door handle, looking genuinely confused. “Since when are you okay with me seeing her? Usually, you’d be throwing a fit by now.” I opened my mouth to explain, but he beat me to it with a cynical smirk. “Right. I forgot. We’re getting married in a month. I guess you figured she isn’t a threat anymore.” He hopped out and climbed into a waiting car, never seeing the devastating grief in my eyes. I didn’t go home. I went to the courthouse to finalize my exit papers, then I went to the Harrison estate. Diane Harrison had a full dinner waiting for us. She loved me like the daughter she never had. I took off my coat and draped it over her shoulders. “It’s chilly tonight, Diane. You need to stay warm.” She beamed at me, holding my hands. “Oh, Evie, you’re so thoughtful. Tell me, is the contract signed? I’ve waited so long to officially call you my daughter.” Arthur Harrison walked in, scowling when he saw I was alone. “Where’s that boy of mine? He should be with you. I’ll give him a piece of my mind when he gets back.” Their genuine love made my throat tight. After my parents died, the Harrisons were my world. They gave me a home, an education, and their name. I had always been the “perfect girl” for them. But tonight, I was going to disappoint them. “Diane, Arthur,” I said, my voice trembling. “I’m not marrying Nate.” The room went silent. “I’m leaving for the West Coast tomorrow. I’m starting over. I won’t be around to take care of you anymore, so please… take care of yourselves.” Diane grabbed my arm, her eyes wide with panic. “Evie, no. This is your home. Where will you go? Is this about that Blackwell girl? Did Nate say something?” “Honey, he loves you,” Arthur added, stepping forward. “He’s saved your life twice! He spends weeks picking out your birthday gifts. I know you love him, too. You’ve learned his favorite recipes, you help him with his hand exercises… you’re perfect together! Don’t let that other girl win.” In my last life, I’d listened to them. We all stayed, we all fought, and in the end, they lost a son and I lost a husband. I wiped a tear from Diane’s cheek. “You can’t force a heart to beat for someone it doesn’t want. Nate doesn’t want me. And I can’t keep pretending that’s okay.” “I had a dream last night,” I whispered, the pain nearly choking me. “I dreamt we got married. He spent every day working until he collapsed just so he wouldn’t have to come home to me. He wouldn’t eat the food I made. He told me I brought him nothing but pain. And then… then he died trying to save me from a fire I started by accident. He died at thirty, Diane. Because of me.” Diane looked stunned. “Evie… it was just a nightmare.” I forced a smile through the tears. “Dreams are warnings. I’d rather he live a hundred years without me than die a hero at thirty in my arms.” I knelt down on the plush carpet—a final gesture of respect to the people who raised me. “My papers are processed. I’m leaving. Thank you for everything.” Arthur sighed, his shoulders sagging, and helped me up. Diane began sobbing, pressing a stack of envelopes into my hand—traveler’s checks and cash. “If this is what you need, we won’t stop you. But remember, Evie: this house is always your home.” I hugged her tight, sobbing into her shoulder. One more regret to go, Nate. I’m almost done. I had twelve hours left to fulfill the third regret: Saving Serena. I went to the Observatory alone. The deck was crowded with couples, all whispering promises under the glowing sky. “Evelyn.” I spun around, my heart leaping, only to see Nate standing there, his face contorted with fury. He grabbed my wrist, his grip tight enough to bruise. “You really couldn’t help yourself, could you? I miss one dinner and you run to my parents to cry? They just called and tore Serena apart over the phone. She’s… she took a handful of pills, Evie. She’s in the ER. Are you happy now?” 3 My wrist felt like it was going to snap. I turned white, the air leaving my lungs. In my last life, Serena had waited until a month after our wedding to attempt suicide. Nate hadn’t been able to find a blood match for a rare complication she had, and he’d watched her die. He blamed me for her death until the moment he breathed his last. But this was happening now. Today. I hadn’t even married him yet, and she was already slipping away. I have to fix this. This is the third regret. I looked at him, ignored the pain in my arm. “You need a donor, don’t you? For the rare antibody treatment?” Nate froze, stunned that I knew. His voice turned lethal. “Don’t act like you care. You drove her to this. You owe her.” He dragged me to the private wing of the hospital. Serena was pale, hooked up to machines. The specialist looked at the labs, then at me. He ran a quick prick on my finger. “It’s a match,” the doctor said, surprised. “But the procedure… to get enough of the concentrated antibodies, we have to do a deep-marrow draw and a high-volume transfusion. It’s incredibly taxing on the donor. You’ll be weak for months. There’s a risk of cardiac stress.” “No,” Nate snapped, his brow furrowed. “She’s too fragile. Is there any other way?” The doctor shook his head. “Without this specific match, Miss Blackwell won’t make it through the night.” Nate looked at Serena, then at me. I saw the raw terror in his eyes—the fear of losing his “Perfect Ghost.” “I’ll do it,” I said. “Start the prep.” “Evie, wait—” Nate started, but I cut him off. “It’s okay. I’ll be fine. Just save her.” Nate stared at me, his emotions a chaotic wreck. Finally, he took his silk handkerchief and tied it around my eyes, a strange, protective gesture. “I owe you for this, Evie. I’ll make it up to you. I promise.” He left the room, and the needles went in. The pain was visceral—a deep, hollowing ache that felt like my very soul was being siphoned out. As the world faded, I thought of our history. I was eight when my parents died. The older kids at the prep school used to corner me, telling me I was an interloper, a charity case. Nate, only ten, had pushed them away and patted my head. “Don’t cry, Evie. I’ll look out for you.” He’d kept that promise, even when he hated me. He’d kept it until he died in the fire. I couldn’t help but love him. But I knew that to save him, I had to disappear. As I drifted into unconsciousness, I heard his voice from the future, echoing in the dark: “If I could just un-know you, Evie… how much better would our lives have been?” I whispered into the empty air of the hospital room, “I’m fixing it, Nate. You won’t have to know me anymore.” When I woke up, the sun was streaming through the hospital window. My chest felt like it had been crushed by a lead weight. I was alone in a small recovery room. I checked the clock. It was almost noon. I had to leave. Outside the door, I heard nurses whispering. “Did you see the meteor shower last night? It was incredible.” “I heard if you saw it with your soulmate, you’ll be together forever.” I closed my eyes. I missed it again. A moment later, the door pushed open. Nate walked in carrying a tray. On it was a bowl of the specific seafood chowder from the deli I used to love as a kid. I stared at it, breathless. He remembered. Nate sat by the bed, his voice softer than I’d heard it in years. “How are you feeling? The doctor said you need to stay for a few days. Serena… she’s stable. Because of you.” I nodded weakly. “That’s good.” He looked at my pale face, his jaw tight. “I was out of line yesterday. I shouldn’t have blamed you. Serena told me… she told me my parents came to her on their own. I’m sorry, Evie.” I didn’t argue. I didn’t tell him I’d already broken the engagement. I just smiled. “It’s okay. It doesn’t matter now.” Nate tucked the blanket around my legs. “Once you’re out of here, we’ll take that trip to the coast you wanted. I know you love the ocean. We can do the honeymoon early.” I looked at him, my heart breaking for the last time. “No, Nate. You don’t have to compensate me for this. I did it because I wanted to.” His eyes flickered with something like hurt. “I’ve already arranged the car for Friday. We’re going.” I didn’t answer. I just watched his hands. They were shaking—the old injury from the kidnapping. Whenever he was stressed or the weather turned, his nerves misfired. “Nate,” I whispered. “Do you ever regret it? Saving me back then? Losing the piano?” He looked at his hands, his expression neutral. “I don’t regret it. I’d do it for anyone.” For anyone. Not just for me. I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Thank you. For everything. For being my hero over and over again.” “I was a lonely kid, Nate. I just wanted a family so badly that I tried to force you into being mine. I’m sorry for the pressure I put on you.” He looked startled, like he wanted to say something, but a nurse knocked on the door. “Mr. Harrison? Miss Blackwell is awake. She’s asking for you.” Nate’s face lit up instantly. He stood up. “I’ll be right back. Stay put, okay? We need to talk.” “Nate,” I called out as he reached the door. I gave him the brightest, most genuine smile I had left. “I’m sorry. And… I hope you have a long, beautiful life. I hope you get everything you ever wanted.” He looked confused, an uneasy shadow crossing his face. “You’re acting like this is a goodbye. Just eat your soup. I’ll be back in ten minutes.” He left. I waited until his footsteps faded, then I forced myself out of bed. Every movement was agony, but I dressed and slipped out the side exit. I found the doctor on my way out. “Tell Mr. Harrison I’ve gone to the coast. Tell him… tell him to live well.” When Nate finally returned to the room, it was empty. The soup was cold. “Where is she?” he demanded of a passing orderly. “The girl in 402?” The doctor walked up, handing him a note. “She left, Mr. Harrison. She said she was heading out west. She asked me to tell you: ‘The debt is paid. Be happy.’” Nate felt a chill go down his spine. “She can’t be gone. She’s too weak to drive!” Just then, his head of security ran down the hall, face ashen. “Sir… there’s been an accident on the interstate. A pile-up involving a bus and several cars. We think… we think Miss Crawford’s Uber was in the zone.”

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After I was officially recognized as the biological heir to the Sterling family, my father insisted I perform the opening dance at the charity gala. It was supposed to be my “first show” to the elite circles of the city. But when I looked toward the three men I grew up with—the men who had promised to be my partners—they all looked right past me. Simultaneously, they reached out their hands to Chloe. Silas spoke first, his voice dripping with a practiced, condescending pity. “Look, you’ve just been brought back into the fold. You’re the ‘real’ daughter; your status is secure. But Chloe’s in a delicate spot right now. It would be too humiliating for her if no one chose her.” Julian gave a half-shrug, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. “Chloe’s an inch shorter than you, Tess. Makes for better photos. I’m skipping you this time.” Then there was Oliver. We had survived the same foster care system together before I was adopted. He looked at me, his eyes cold. “Don’t make a scene about this. Not tonight.” I stood there, paralyzed, as the room’s whispers began to swell. Then, Sebastian—my fiancé, the man I was supposed to marry to consolidate two empires—stepped toward me. For a fleeting second, I thought he was finally going to announce our engagement to the world. Instead, he brushed past my shoulder, his hand finding Chloe’s waist. “You’re the biological Sterling heir,” he murmured, loud enough for those nearby to hear. “You’re calculating, Tess. You have teeth. You don’t need me to protect you. Chloe isn’t like you.” The room tilted. Faces blurred into a sea of judgment. Facing their unanimous rejection, I simply nodded and forced a smile. “Fine,” I whispered to the empty space they left behind. “If you won’t dance with me, I’ll find someone else.” … This dance was everything. It was my face, my reputation. I had been lost to the world for twenty-two years, only rediscovered three years ago. This was the first major event hosted by the Sterling family where I was meant to take the lead—a public validation of my bloodline. Sebastian knew exactly how much this meant to me. He knew the stakes. And yet, he didn’t even look back as he led Chloe toward the center of the ballroom. The atmosphere turned toxic. I stood rooted to the spot, my throat tightening. Watching Sebastian take Chloe’s hand, the mockery from the crowd began to close in like a physical weight. “I heard the Vanguard and Sterling families were planning a merger through marriage,” a woman whispered nearby. “I guess we were wrong about which daughter was getting the ring…” “Looks like Sebastian is making a statement about who really holds his heart,” another chimed in. The music swelled—a sweeping, romantic orchestral piece. Sebastian leaned down, listening to Chloe whisper something in his ear. His expression was soft, a look of genuine tenderness that I had never seen directed at me. It’s funny how a man’s entire silhouette softens when he’s looking at someone he actually wants to protect. With me, he was always “The Executioner of Wall Street”—cold, hard, and unyielding. In his eyes, the daughter who crawled her way back into high society was too “shrewd” and “ambitious” to deserve a soft touch. To him, even my grief was a calculated performance. My aunt, holding a champagne flute, drifted toward me. Half the room followed her gaze. “Oh, look at our ‘rightful’ heiress, standing all alone,” she cooed, her voice laced with venom. “I’ve always said, some people just aren’t born with the right spark. You come back, and your grandfather tries to hand you the world, but Chloe? She has that natural grace. You can take her title, dear, but you can’t take her light.” Her words felt like a serrated blade across my skin. I gripped my glass until my knuckles turned white. Before the gala, Sebastian had warned me that his every move was a signal to the markets. He said he couldn’t publicly dance with me unless his parents gave their explicit blessing. I was anxious, but I told myself I understood. The balance of power between the Vanguard Group and the Sterlings was delicate. So, I had prepared backups. I had asked Silas, Julian, and Oliver. They had all promised, quite readily, to be there for me. I had predicted the beginning—that Sebastian might hesitate. I just hadn’t predicted the end—that they would all defect to Chloe at once. Sebastian wasn’t worried about “family signals.” He just didn’t care about my dignity. He was too busy ensuring someone else felt safe. The applause broke out as the first dance ended. Chloe was blushing, leaning into Sebastian’s shoulder. My three “childhood friends” were already surrounding them with champagne and praise. Sebastian finally broke away and walked toward me. He didn’t offer an apology. He just leaned in, his voice low. “Chloe’s had a hard time lately. You came back and stepped right into the line of succession. She lost everything just because of a DNA test. It’s just one dance, Tess. You’ve always been the bigger person—” “If word of this gets out,” I interrupted, my voice trembling with suppressed rage, “what will they say? That the Sterling heir is a joke who can’t even command respect in her own house?” He frowned. “You’re overthinking it. Who would dare laugh at a Sterling?” When I didn’t respond, his voice dropped an octave. “Tess, you’re strong. You can stand on your own two feet. Chloe can’t. If I didn’t choose her tonight, if I didn’t show the world she still matters to me, she’d be discarded by this family.” I looked down. He had no idea. The war for the Sterling succession had reached a breaking point. My father had made his terms clear: either I married into a family like the Vanguards—allowing my grandfather to gracefully push me out of the business—or he would “arrange” a marriage for me with some backwater tycoon to neutralize me forever. I wanted to stay on the board. I wanted my seat. But this one dance had shattered my leverage. Chloe hurried over, looking up at Sebastian with wide, watery eyes. “Sebastian, could you introduce me to the board members? I’m not as… capable as my sister.” She paused, biting her lip. “Tess has her little notebook. She tracks every executive’s influence, every scarce resource in the city… Oh! I didn’t mean she’s mercenary. She’s just… very thorough.” The smiles of the nearby socialites faltered. “Tracking everyone’s value? How charmingly cold,” one whispered. The blood in my veins turned to ice. That notebook was an assignment from my grandfather. He told me to study the players, to learn the strengths of our peers. Sebastian had even helped me with it. Yet, he didn’t say a word to defend me now. He let me become the villain of the ballroom. Chloe tugged at his sleeve. “Did I say something wrong again? I’m just so clumsy compared to her…” Sebastian patted her head. “It’s fine. Your sister has a ‘grand vision.’ She won’t be petty enough to get angry at you.” He led her away to mingle. “Sebastian—” I started, but the whispers drowned me out. “And here I was feeling sorry for her. She’s a shark.” I stood in the center of the hall, shivering despite the heat. I remembered the day I returned to the Sterling estate three years ago. It was pouring rain. My grandfather had left me standing outside the iron gates for hours—a test of my resolve. That was the day I met Sebastian. He had walked out with an umbrella, held it over my head, and said, “Welcome home, kid. I’ll look out for you.” Now, his umbrella was over someone else. I set my glass down and walked toward the terrace. The night air was freezing, and the composure I had spent years building began to crack. My grandfather was returning to the country in seven days. If tonight’s humiliation reached him, it would be a devastating strike against my standing. … I stood there for a long time before heading back in. Oliver suddenly intercepted me. “Tess, don’t go over there.” I followed his gaze. Sebastian and Chloe were still dancing. Oliver thought I was going to cause a scene to win him back. He was the only one who had known me before the Sterlings. We were in the trenches of the Southside Orphanage together. Back then, whenever they handed out apples, I’d fight to get the biggest, reddest one—just so I could give it to him. I was afraid he’d starve because he was too slow to fight for himself. Later, after I was adopted, I saved every penny of my allowance and begged my parents to help him. I paid for his tuition at the most prestigious arts academy. I lifted him up until he became the renowned appraiser he is today. But apparently, a weed from the mud can provide all the nutrients in the world, and it still won’t be as precious as a “Golden Girl” like Chloe. I tried to walk past him. He grabbed my wrist. “Listen to me. Sebastian made his choice. If you go up there now, you’ll only embarrass yourself more.” “Let go!” I tried to wrench my arm away, but he held on tighter. In the struggle, my heel caught on the marble, and I lost my balance. I fell backward, my back hitting a stone pillar before I landed hard on my knees. A sharp, white-hot pain exploded in my leg. Oliver froze. “Was that necessary? You’ve had everything these last three years. What does Chloe have left?” Julian and Silas walked over. “What now?” Julian asked, his eyes landing on my bruising knees. “Tess, self-harming for sympathy? That’s low, even for you.” Silas gave a bored yawn. “Is there anything our Great Heiress won’t do for attention? We’re probably all in that little notebook of hers, just rungs on her ladder.” Julian rubbed his temples. “Tess, you’ve already taken Chloe’s life. She’s finally happy tonight. Can’t you just stop being so dramatic? If you want the spotlight that badly,” he said flatly, “fine. I’ll give you one dance. Will that satisfy your ego?” I scrambled to my feet, leaning against the pillar. “Get out of my way.” “Tess!” Julian lost his patience and grabbed my arm. “If it weren’t for Silas and me protecting you when you first got here, you would have been eaten alive. Stop being ungrateful!” I jerked my arm back instinctively, but he twisted my wrist with more force than he realized— Snap. A sickening pop echoed in the quiet hallway. Agony flared from my wrist to my shoulder. I doubled over, gasping for air. Julian flinched, looking at his own hands. “God, Tess! Why did you pull away so hard? Just to go chase after a man who doesn’t want you?” I gritted my teeth, clutching my right wrist with my left hand. Cold sweat broke out on my forehead. Silas let out a cold laugh. “It’s not a big deal. Our dear Tess has survived worse. A little scratch like that? It’s nothing compared to the emotional trauma Chloe’s been through because of you.” The world was blurring, but I looked at him and laughed. “You’re right. It’s not painful enough yet.” I let go of my wrist. The joint was already swelling, glowing a bruised purple. My forearm hung at a grotesque, unnatural angle. Like a snapped branch. The smirk finally died on Silas’s face. He looked away, his stomach turning. Julian’s voice was tight. “Stay there. I’ll call a doctor.” “Don’t bother,” I croaked. “It would upset my grandfather if word got out.” “You’re insane!” Julian hissed. “You and your ‘dignity.’ You’re always calculating, always putting your ‘big picture’ over people’s feelings. Just like the time Chloe had that fever and you locked her in the attic because you had guests to entertain. You’re cold, Tess. You’re a machine.” He turned and stormed off. Silas shook his head. “Was it worth it, Tess? All this because no one wanted to dance with you? Or is this another bet to see who flinches first?” I didn’t answer. I walked toward the back corridor, leaning against the cold wall. I slid down until I was sitting on the floor. My left hand touched the swollen joint, and I screamed silently into my shoulder. But I didn’t let go. The pain was real. It was the only thing in this house that wasn’t a lie. … At 9:00 PM, I returned to the villa. My father was waiting in his study, a cigar in hand. “You saw what happened tonight,” he said, not looking up. “Sebastian has no intention of marrying you.” I remained silent. “Your grandfather is old. We need to settle your marriage immediately.” “I just went through a public breakup,” I said, my voice hollow. “I’m not in the right headspace for a wedding.” He looked up, his eyes sharp. “And what do you propose?” “Send me to the Chicago office,” I said. “Three years. After that, I’ll marry whoever you want.” “Seven days,” he countered. “Your grandfather returns in seven days. By then, I want to see you married to a ‘suitable’ partner.” The way he said “suitable” sent a chill down my spine. It didn’t mean someone powerful or kind. It meant someone who would ensure my grandfather lost all hope in me—someone who would prove I was willing to throw my future away on a whim. Either a top-tier family that could swallow the Sterlings whole, or someone so beneath me that it would be a scandal. But who would take Sebastian’s “reject” without his permission? … 10:30 PM. Outside the Sterling private hospital. I had just finished getting my wrist reset when two familiar cars pulled up. Sebastian was helping Chloe out of the first car. She had a tiny band-aid on her finger and was wincing with every step. Julian and Silas stepped out of the second car. “Tess?” Chloe blinked, her eyes landing on the heavy cast on my right arm. “What happened to you?” Sebastian looked up. When he saw the cast, his brow furrowed for a fraction of a second. Julian stood by Chloe, his face a mask of indifference. Silas leaned against his car, enjoying the show. “Dislocated wrist,” I said shortly, trying to walk past them. “Tess,” Chloe called out softly. “Dad said your wedding is set for seven days from now? Is that true?” The air went still. Sebastian’s face hardened. “Seven days?” His voice was ice. “Tess, what kind of game are you playing? I never agreed to a date.” I stood in the shadows. It had been barely an hour since I left my father’s study. Chloe already knew, and she had “accidentally” leaked it to exactly the right person. “Sebastian, I…” Chloe’s eyes welled with tears. “If you and Tess are really getting married… I’ll be happy for you. I just didn’t think it would be so soon…” Sebastian’s frustration boiled over. He turned to Julian and Silas. “Take Chloe inside. Make sure that scratch doesn’t get infected.” Julian nodded and stepped forward. Silas let out a slow, mocking whistle. “We’ll take care of Chloe. As for you, Sebastian…” He glanced at me. “Be careful. Someone who waits until after the party to go to the hospital for a broken bone is definitely plotting something.” Sebastian waited until they were inside before approaching me. He stared at my cast for two seconds, then spoke. “Don’t use these tactics, Tess. Your father wouldn’t leak a date unless he was sure. Stop playing games.” I looked down at my arm. The pain had been worth it. It showed the difference between us. Chloe gets a scratch, and three men mobilize. I break a bone, and it’s a “tactic.” “Does it matter to you?” I asked, looking him in the eye. “Does it matter?” He laughed, grabbing my chin and forcing me to look at him. “Everyone in this city knows you’re mine. Now you’re unilaterally announcing a wedding date? What do you think that makes me look like? Cancel it.” “And if it’s not a rumor?” His grip tightened. “Tess, don’t test me. I am not a pawn you can trap with a marriage license. If you don’t want to break up, stop being so difficult.” “Then let’s break up,” I said. The silence was deafening. He looked at me like I was a stranger. He knew me too well—or so he thought. He had taught me how to move in this world. He taught me when to hide my hand, when to endure, when to sacrifice pride for the win. He once told me, “In this circle, a soft heart is a sin.” I had learned well. Too well. “Tess, I taught you these methods so you could protect yourself. Not so you could become like the very people you hate.” I wanted to laugh. Like the people I hate? The difference was they knew they were sharks. I actually thought he was teaching me so I could stand beside him. The ache in my wrist was dull now. The last wave of emotion for him finally died. “Whatever I am now has nothing to do with you. Please, let go.” “Tess.” His voice was calm, certain. “You can walk away now. But when you come crawling back, remember what I taught you: the most beautiful way to bow is to press your own head into the dirt.” I didn’t stop. I got into my car and watched the hospital lights fade. My phone buzzed. It was a text from my father. Wedding announcement sent to the press. He was burning the bridges for me. I looked out the window toward the Sterling estate. I had already chosen a groom. And his name wasn’t Sebastian.

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Chapter 1 On our eighteenth birthday, my sister received company shares, a luxury car, and a mansion. I received a DNA test confirming we weren’t biologically related. My mother smiled coldly. “Chloe, since you aren’t our biological daughter, you’ll need to repay the cost of raising you for the last seventeen years.” My father scoffed. “Starting today, you’re the family maid. We’ll credit you five hundred dollars a month toward your debt. Room and board are not included.” I didn’t ask how it was possible that my twin sister and I, who looked like carbon copies of each other, weren’t both their daughters. I just calmly nodded. Because the night before, standing outside their door, I had heard everything: My sister, Mia, had whined while holding our parents’ hands. “Mom, Dad, my only birthday wish is to be the sole heiress of the Vance family and get all your love to myself. Can we just make Chloe be a maid for a year? Please?” My father looked at her with pure indulgence. “Of course. Anything you want.” My mother laughed and agreed, “For this entire year, Mom and Dad belong only to our precious Mia.” After everyone had gone to bed, I stared at the leftover birthday cake, stuck a candle in it, and made a wish: I want to leave the Vance family. Not for a year, but for the rest of my life. … My sister, Mia, covered her mouth in an exaggerated gasp. “Oh my gosh, Chloe! No wonder you’re so ugly and don’t look like Mom or Dad. You really are a fake!” She shrieked loudly and dramatically. It was as if she had completely forgotten that we were twins and looked at least 80% alike. “Oh wait, you aren’t my sister at all. You’re just some stray mutt who crawled in from nowhere.” My mother’s face was distant and cold. “Chloe, now that the truth is out and you aren’t a Vance, this birthday party is exclusively for our precious daughter, Mia. You have no right to be here.” I looked up at Mia, who was gloating. She was wearing a custom-made princess gown and a tiara that cost as much as a house. Then I looked at myself, wearing a faded, washed-out button-down and jeans with frayed cuffs. I smiled bitterly. Right. I never had any “rights” in this house to begin with. So how could I lose them? My father raised his voice. “Starting today, move into the servant’s quarters. For the sake of the years we spent together, you can work here as a maid until you find your real parents. I’ll credit you five hundred dollars a month to pay off the seventeen years of expenses we wasted on you. Room and board are not included.” The guests whispered among themselves. Like a pathetic clown performing under a spotlight of mockery and disdain, I bent down and picked up my backpack. Mia suddenly rushed forward and violently yanked my bag. The broken zipper, held together only by a safety pin, burst open, spilling my belongings all over the floor. Mia shrieked, “Aha! I knew it! You’ve been stealing from us!” Laying among my scattered textbooks was a single, pink sanitary pad. My mother looked slightly embarrassed. “Mia, let it go. It’s just a sanitary pad.” Mia immediately threw a tantrum. “Mom! I’m the only daughter of the Vance family now! Who does she think she is?! She’s leeched off us for years, and now she’s stealing our stuff! If I say she doesn’t deserve it, she doesn’t deserve it!” Seeing her get angry, my mother quickly softened her tone to coax her. “Okay, okay, baby, don’t be mad. You’re right. You are Mommy’s only precious girl now. You can do whatever you want.” Satisfied, Mia stomped directly onto the sanitary pad, grinding her heel into it. “There. I don’t want it anymore. You can have it.” I stared at the sanitary pad covered in dirty footprints. My throat felt like it was stuffed with wet, heavy cotton. I couldn’t breathe. Chapter 2 In the end, I bent down and only picked up my books. After the party ended, our housekeeper, Mrs. Miller, led me to a storage closet. It was barely fifty square feet. The only things inside were a wooden board bed piled with junk and a rusted iron window. Mrs. Miller stood in the doorway, hesitating. “Miss… Chloe, Mr. and Mrs. Vance remember the good things about you. Once they cool down, you’ll be the Vance family’s eldest daughter again…” Before she could finish, two cockroaches scurried out from a dark corner and disappeared. I pretended not to see the awkward pity on her face. “Thank you. I understand.” Mrs. Miller shook her head and walked away, muttering softly to herself, “They look exactly alike, how could they not be related? Sigh…” I sat on the hard wooden board, staring blankly out the rusted window into the pitch-black night. It’s fine. Just one more year, and I can leave forever. That night, my cramps were agonizing. Having no sanitary pads, I had to fold up layers of toilet paper. When I stepped out of the bathroom, I heard my parents whispering in the hallway. “Honey, do you think Chloe will hate us for treating her like this? She is our biological daughter, after all.” My father scoffed. “It’s her fault for always bullying Mia. She’s the older sister; she should know how to yield to her younger sister. Letting her taste some hardship is for her own good.” “After Mia has her fun for a year, we’ll just make an excuse and say the DNA test was a mix-up. Once we restore her status as the eldest daughter, she’ll be too thrilled to hold a grudge.” My fingertips went ice cold. It was absurd. It was hilarious. Why on earth did they think they could trample me into the dirt, and I would just stand there waiting for them like an obedient dog? The next day, I went out to buy sanitary pads. But when I tried to pay, my card was declined for insufficient funds. I knew for a fact I had exactly two hundred dollars saved up. When I walked back into the mansion, the three of them were laughing around the dining table. There was a gift bag sitting on the table. My mother was lovingly caressing a silk scarf. “Our Mia is such a sweet, thoughtful girl. Knowing how to buy gifts for her mommy now! I’m so happy.” My father twirled a cheap plastic water bottle in his hands, grinning from ear to ear. “Dad loves his too! That’s my precious daughter.” Mia pouted, leaning her head on our mother’s shoulder. “But both of those only cost two hundred dollars combined. You guys aren’t mad I bought something so cheap, are you?” My mother immediately shook her head. “Of course not! As long as my baby bought it, even a two-dollar gift is a treasure to me.” My father didn’t miss the chance to put me down to lift her up. “Exactly. Unlike your sister, who only knows how to spend our money and has never bought us a single gift. She’s a heartless parasite. She could never compare to my Mia…” Noticing me standing in the doorway, they abruptly stopped talking. Mia tilted her head, looking at me with a sickeningly sweet, malicious smile. That two hundred dollars. That was two months’ worth of my living expenses. It was every single penny I had to my name. My whole body went cold. Something in my brain violently snapped. By the time I realized what I was doing, I had already grabbed Mia and raised my hand to slap her. But before my hand could fall, my father delivered a brutal kick to my stomach. I flew backward, my spine slamming agonizingly against the sharp corner of the glass coffee table. My vision went completely black from the pain. Mia held up her arm, showing off a tiny, faint red mark, and started wailing like the sky was falling. “Mom! Dad! It hurts so much! Is my arm broken?!” My mother panicked, screaming, “Call an ambulance!” My father quickly interrupted, “Don’t bother with an ambulance, it’ll take too long! I’ll drive Mia to the hospital myself.” Mia pointed a shaking finger at me as I lay gasping on the floor. “I don’t want to ride in the car! That stray mutt hurt me! I want her to carry me to the hospital on her back!” Chapter 3 The mansion was over twelve miles away from the nearest hospital in the city. My mother glared at me with eyes like ice. “You are a parentless stray. We fed and housed you for over a decade, and you dare lay a hand on my biological daughter? You will do exactly as Mia says.” Seeing me struggling to get up, my father grabbed me by the collar and hauled me to my feet. “Stop faking it. It was just a light tap. Hurry up and get Mia on your back. If you delay my daughter’s treatment, I swear I’ll throw you out on the street.” I believed him. But I couldn’t leave yet. I was broke. I had no choice but to let Mia climb onto my back and begin the agonizing trek toward the hospital. My father drove his luxury car slowly, trailing right behind me. He continuously yelled out the window, “Chloe, you better hold her steady! If you drop my precious daughter, I’ll skin you alive!” My mother complained from the passenger seat, “Walk faster! Did you not eat?! Don’t you dare delay my baby’s treatment!” Mia clung to my back, giggling viciously in my ear. “See? Nobody in this house loves you! You’re just an unwanted stray dog.” In the past, words like that would have easily pierced my heart. But now, perhaps due to an overdose of pain, I was completely numb. Seeing that I wasn’t reacting, Mia stopped talking. But just as we were finally approaching the hospital… She pulled a safety pin out of her pocket and jabbed it violently into my back. I stumbled in blinding pain, collapsing face-first onto the pavement. My parents immediately slammed on the brakes, bolted out of the car, scooped up Mia—who had fallen on top of me—and sprinted toward the emergency room. My mother glanced back at me, my face chalk-white on the concrete, and tossed a careless comment over her shoulder: “We’re at the hospital anyway. Go find a doctor yourself. We don’t have time to deal with you.” I never made it inside the hospital. Because I had no money. With zero energy left to walk back, I sat on the hospital steps until the sun went down, finally making my way back to the mansion long after dark. They were already home. Standing in the opulent living room were a filthy, cowering, middle-aged man and woman. “You’re back.” My father pointed at the couple. “These are your biological parents. Pack your things and leave with them right now.” The silence in the room was deafening. My mother walked over and grabbed my hand, though she couldn’t meet my eyes. “Chloe, we were mother and daughter for a long time, and this breaks my heart. But since your real parents have been found, there’s no reason for you to linger in the Vance household.” I thought I had run out of tears. But they spilled over my eyelashes and streamed down my face anyway. These were the parents I had cherished and loved more than anything for seventeen years. And they were entirely unwilling to let me stay, even in the darkest, smallest corner of their home. Seeing my tears, my mother looked guilty. She reached out to wipe them away, but Mia quickly latched onto her arm. “Chloe! Congratulations! You’re finally not a parentless stray anymore!” The middle-aged woman immediately grabbed my other arm. Her filthy, blackened fingernails dug painfully into my skin as she began a ridiculously exaggerated wail. “Oh, my sweet daughter! Mommy finally found you! Come home with Mommy!” The man claiming to be my biological father started dragging me toward the door. “Yeah, yeah, let’s go! You’ve bothered Mr. and Mrs. Vance long enough. Don’t be a shameless parasite!” “Wait,” Mia said, her eyes gleaming as she smiled wickedly. “Chloe, finding your real parents is a massive deal. It wouldn’t be right to leave without kneeling and kowtowing to them in gratitude. Or… are you disgusted because they’re poor? Do you look down on your own parents?” I froze, turning to look at my mother and father. “Do you also think I should kneel and kowtow to them?” Chapter 4 They instinctively avoided my gaze. Mia kept pushing. “Hurry up and kneel! We’re all waiting!” I smiled. Something inside my chest completely, irrevocably shattered. I dropped to my knees, but I didn’t face the strangers. I faced my mother and father, and bowed deeply, my forehead touching the floor. “Thank you for raising me. This ends my obligations to you as a daughter. From this moment on, I have absolutely no connection to the Vance family.” My parents exchanged a panicked look, a flicker of unease crossing both their faces. But I had already stood up and turned to leave with my “biological parents.” My mother chased after me, her voice shrill with fake bravado, “We aren’t even! Not until… not until you pay back every single penny we spent on you over the last seventeen years!” I stopped walking, but I didn’t turn around. I simply replied, “Okay.” They genuinely believed they had spent a fortune on me over the years. But they conveniently forgot that the daughter they extravagantly spoiled and threw money at was Mia. Meanwhile, I got an allowance of three hundred dollars a month. And even that was constantly extorted by Mia, whose allowance was thirty thousand. If I refused to give it to her, she would go home crying. She would claim I was turning our classmates against her and bullying her at school. As punishment, I would be locked in my room without food. There was even a night during a torrential downpour where Mia claimed I was bullying her so much she wanted to die. For that, I was locked outside in the freezing rain all night. I caught a fever of 104 degrees, and no one cared. From childhood until now, it had always been exactly like this. One word from Mia dictated whether I was right or wrong, happy or miserable, and even if I was allowed basic human dignity. My explanations, my tears, my grievances… in this house, they were utterly worthless. Just like me. Incredibly cheap. That night, I arrived at my “biological parents’” dingy, run-down apartment in the slums. Because there were no extra rooms or blankets, I spent the night curled up in a ball on the floor of the tiny, grimy bathroom. The freezing wind howled through the broken, newspaper-patched windows. By the next morning, I was delirious with a dangerously high fever. Fading in and out of consciousness, I heard the woman frantically speaking on the phone. “Mr. Vance, Mrs. Vance! The… the girl has a massive fever! She’s burning up, it’s 104 degrees!” “Well, what are you waiting for?! Take her to the hospital!” The phone was on speaker. Mia’s voice rang out, crystal clear. “Mom, Dad! She just left last night and she magically has a high fever today? That’s too much of a coincidence. It’s obviously a trick to see if you still care. If you fall for it, she wins!” After a long silence, my father’s icy voice replied, “Leave her be. She said it herself: she has no connection to us anymore. Let the ungrateful brat learn a hard lesson.” My mother sounded incredibly annoyed. “She’s your daughter now. Stop calling us over every little thing. We’re busy packing for our daughter’s round-the-world graduation trip. I’m hanging up.” No one cared if I lived or died. I was abandoned in that miserable slum apartment. Using the very last shred of my willpower, I clawed the front door open and dragged myself out into the hallway before passing out completely. When I opened my eyes again, a nurse was standing by my bed. “Sweetheart, you’re finally awake! 107 degrees! If a kind stranger hadn’t found you and brought you here… ten minutes later, and you wouldn’t have made it.” “Alright, hurry up and call your family to come. And you need to pay your admission fees.” I was silent for a long time. My voice was paper-thin. “I don’t have any money. And I don’t have a family.” The nurse was stunned. I stared blankly at the IV tube taped to the back of my hand and licked my cracked lips. “But… I have blood.” When school started again, I was officially a high school senior. I began running errands for my classmates—buying their lunches, delivering packages. One dollar per trip. I could save about twenty dollars a day. Chapter 5 One day, I had just finished buying someone’s lunch and was walking out of the cafeteria when I ran straight into Mia. She simply crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. Her lackeys immediately lunged forward, snatching the lunchbox from my hands and smashing it onto the ground. The food mixed with the mud and dirty puddles on the pavement. “Aww, sister. You look so hungry. Let me treat you to lunch,” Mia sneered. Her friends grabbed the back of my head and forcefully shoved my face toward the muddy, trampled food. Ms. Harris, my homeroom teacher, happened to be walking by and furiously reprimanded them. She pulled me up and helped me wipe the mud off my face. She had heard rumors about what happened at the birthday party and knew I was desperately poor. Without asking too many invasive questions, she helped me secure a weekend tutoring job for a middle schooler. The only condition was that I could only work half-days on weekends, ensuring it wouldn’t affect my grades. I thanked her profusely. But I never could have imagined that Ms. Harris’s singular act of kindness would result in her being anonymously reported for “accepting bribes from parents” and subsequently fired. And me? My face was plastered all over the school’s public bulletin board. Someone had taken a photo of the middle schooler’s father driving me home from a tutoring session. The caption labeled me a high school escort being funded by a sugar daddy. My “biological mother,” Brenda, rushed to the school. Without asking a single question, she slapped me across the face twice. She viciously grabbed my hair, yanking and pinching me. “You little slut! Barely a teenager and you’re already spreading your legs for men! You might not have any shame, but I do!” My head snapped to the side from the impact. Through my messy, disheveled hair, my eyes locked onto my real parents, standing with the school administrators, looking at me like I was radioactive trash. And standing right behind them was Mia, a massive, triumphant grin splitting her face. My hair fell forward, hiding my line of sight, and hiding the tears I couldn’t hold back. I lowered my head and said quietly, “I’m sorry. I know I was wrong.” That night, right after I stepped out of the shower in the slum apartment, a pair of massive hands violently dragged me into a bedroom. My “biological father,” Bob, was shirtless, his eyes bloodshot with pure lust as he lunged at me. “If you’re giving it away to men outside, you might as well give it to me!” I pulled a hidden box cutter from my sleeve and slashed wildly at his face. He stumbled back, panting heavily, looking like a starved animal. “I’m a minor! Unless you want to spend the rest of your life in prison, get the hell away from me!” Living in the slums, there was no way I wouldn’t be prepared for the worst. Bob spat on the floor, wiped the blood from his cheek, and flashed a sickening, yellow-toothed grin. “You just wait, you little bitch. Your real parents sold you to me. I’ll get what I want eventually.” The door slammed shut. I collapsed against it, sliding down to the floor, my entire body shaking violently. The tears flooded out. I bit down on the back of my hand so hard I drew blood, just to stop my sobbing from making a sound. My phone buzzed. A notification from the Vance Family group chat. My mother: “Chloe, you are a pathetic, depraved child. Thinking about the fact that I called a filthy, shameless girl like you my daughter for seventeen years makes me physically sick.” The next second, my father removed me from the group chat. Staring at the chat group that now only had three members, my mother felt a sudden, inexplicable pang of unease. “Honey, did we go too far? Didn’t the investigator say she was just tutoring that man’s kid?” My father huffed angrily. “If she hadn’t forced Mia to eat food off the dirty floor, Mia wouldn’t have cried until her eyes were swollen! All Mia asked for was to kick her out of the group chat. She got off easy.” He thought for a second, then softened his tone. “It’s only for a year anyway. I already transferred enough money to Bob so she won’t starve. When the year is up, we’ll go pick her up immediately.” One year later. The day of Mia’s and my nineteenth birthday. My parents left the house early in the morning. My father drove fast. “Did you bring the real DNA test results?” My mother nodded repeatedly. “I have them. We haven’t seen Chloe in a whole year. When we bring her home, we have to properly make it up to her.” Chapter 6 My father smiled. “Of course. I’ve already reorganized the company shares. Mia is too playful; she can’t handle the responsibility. After this year of hardship, Chloe has definitely matured and won’t bully her sister anymore. At the birthday banquet tonight, I’ll officially announce Chloe as the primary heir.” The two of them hurried out of the car, navigated the filthy, trash-filled stairwell of the slum apartment, and went straight to Bob’s door. But they knocked for ten minutes, and no one answered. Finally, an older woman poked her head out of the neighboring apartment. “Stop knocking. Bob got arrested and sent to prison a long time ago for raping that girl he brought home last year.” The hallway went dead silent. My parents’ faces froze, as if they had been struck by a sledgehammer. After a long time, my father, his face deathly pale, finally managed to find his trembling voice. “Did… did Bob bring several girls home last year?” The neighbor smacked her lips, completely shattering his delusion. “Several? No, just the one. He told everyone she was his long-lost daughter that he finally tracked down.” “Yes! She’s his daughter!” my mother interrupted, her voice shrill and panicked. “She’s his daughter! A father wouldn’t touch his own daughter! There must be a mistake!” My mother seemed to believe that if she yelled loud enough, she could bury the horrific truth staring her in the face. But the neighbor wasn’t buying it. She let out a harsh, mocking laugh. “What daughter? Everyone in this building knows Bob is shooting blanks. He’s got a medical condition; he can’t even have kids.” “He kept bragging that the girl was his long-lost kid. But look at Bob and Brenda—they’re both ugly as sin! There’s no way they could produce a girl that pretty. He obviously kidnapped or tricked her into coming here.” Seeing that my parents were well-dressed, the neighbor leaned in, her eyes shining with morbid, gossipy excitement, hoping to impress them. “Let me tell you, the walls in this building are paper-thin. The night Bob got arrested… that poor girl’s screaming and crying echoed through the entire building. It was horrific.” My mother stumbled backward, the world spinning around her, and grabbed the rusty staircase railing for support. Usually a severe germaphobe, she didn’t even notice the thick, black grime coating her hands. Her face was completely blank as she muttered lifelessly, “Impossible… It’s a lie. It has to be a lie.” The neighbor waved her hand defensively. “I’m not lying! Ask anyone in this building! He brought that poor girl here, and within a few days, he forced himself on her. The man is an absolute animal.” The neighbor described the events with vivid, terrifying detail, completely oblivious to my parents’ rapidly deteriorating complexions. My father, usually a ruthless, commanding presence in the corporate world, was trembling like a leaf in the wind. It took every ounce of his willpower just to keep his buckling legs from collapsing. “Where… where is the girl now…?” “Oh, don’t even ask.” The neighbor sighed heavily. “The second the cops hauled Bob away, the girl jumped off the roof. She looked like she was just a student. Such a sweet, pretty face, completely ruined by that monster. I don’t know who her real parents are, but if they ever found out, their hearts would shatter into a million pieces.” Having finished her story, the neighbor finally noticed my parents looked like they had just seen a ghost. A dawning realization hit her. “Wait a minute… you don’t think that girl was your daughter, do you?” “No! No, she wasn’t.” My father denied it frantically. “We were just passing through…” Looking like a man fleeing from hell itself, he grabbed my mother’s arm and practically dragged her out of the building. Running out of the stairwell, he nearly tripped over a pile of rotting garbage. They didn’t speak a single word until they were safely inside the luxury car. I don’t know how much time passed, but a suppressed, agonizing sob finally broke the silence. My mother covered her face, completely breaking down into hysterical wails. “My Chloe… my baby girl…”

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Because my boyfriend had a very high sex drive, we always had to try new things every time we made love. To make up for this, he coaxed me more than once, saying: “Once you graduate, we’ll get married.” I believed him. So, I worked my fingers to the bone, piling on credits to graduate early. At the same time, I secretly watched all kinds of adult content at night, studying new techniques, just to keep him physically satisfied. Until one day, I missed my dorm curfew because I was studying too late, so I ran to a bar to find him. By chance, I overheard him chatting with his friends. “Leo, is your girlfriend really that wild in bed?” “Of course she is. I trained her myself.” “What about Mia then?” Leo blew out a puff of smoke, his eyes turning soft and tender. “She’s different. She’s pure.” In that moment, the seed of hatred was planted. Returning to campus, I immediately called my professor. “That classified project you mentioned… I want to apply.” From this day forward, my life would be dedicated solely to my country. “Professor, that Project Spark you mentioned before… I’d like to join.” The professor paused, clearly surprised: “Are you sure? Once you join Project Spark, it will be at least five years before you can contact anyone on the outside.” “Didn’t you just turn me down last time, saying you were going to marry your boyfriend after graduation?” I stood in front of the mirror, trailing my fingers over the dense constellation of hickeys and bite marks covering my body. I smiled, a bleak and desolate expression. “I’m not getting married anymore. From now on, I only want to serve my country.” Seeing my firm resolve, the professor didn’t try to dissuade me. He simply reminded me: “The transport to the base leaves in three days. Take this time to say a proper goodbye to your boyfriend.” “After all, you two are engaged.” I hummed a soft agreement, looking down at the ring on my finger, my eyes slightly red. Yes, we were engaged. As I spaced out, my phone buzzed. It was a message from Leo. [Why haven’t you replied? Come out and keep me company.] The address he sent was the exact same bar from earlier. Without rushing to reply, I opened my laptop and reviewed my application form one last time. After confirming everything was perfect, I headed out to meet him. “What took you so long?” Leo was leaning lazily against the sofa, clearly displeased by my tardiness. “I couldn’t get a cab right away. Had to wait a bit.” I threw out a random excuse and moved to sit beside him, but his hand suddenly gripped my waist. His voice was teasing: “Get up. That’s not your seat.” Leo’s words acted like a switch, causing everyone in the room to burst into laughter. “Yeah, Sister-in-law, that’s not your seat,” Leo’s childhood friend chimed in, a playful smirk on his face. “How could you just sit on the sofa? Obviously, you’re supposed to sit on Leo’s lap.” The others joined in, their teasing laced with innuendo: “Yeah, exactly. Look, Sister-in-law, all our dates are sitting on our laps.” I looked around, and it was true. Almost all the men present had a scantily clad woman perched on their laps. Noticing my gaze, the men’s actions grew even bolder. The sound of heavy, uneven breathing filled the room. Leo’s childhood friend, while fondling the warm body in his arms, shot me a suggestive look: “Don’t just stand there watching, Sister-in-law. Take good care of our guy Leo.” I didn’t say a word, but my heart sank to the absolute bottom. I recognized those women. They were famous escorts at this bar, and I… I was Leo’s fiancée. Or at least, in name. I touched the engagement ring on my finger and turned my gaze to Leo, who hadn’t said a word. I was waiting for him to speak up. Leo didn’t look at me. He stared intently at his glass, acting as if he completely missed the mockery in their words. It wasn’t until the private room grew completely quiet that he reluctantly reached out a hand, offering a half-hearted comfort: “They’re just joking around. Don’t take it seriously.” Seeing that I still remained silent, he finally put on a show of caring, tossing a few weak reprimands at the others before pulling me down to sit. “Alright, don’t be mad. I’ll warn them next time.” The atmosphere in the room began to heat up again. I leaned against Leo’s chest, my mind racing with thoughts on how to break up with him. Suddenly, the door to the private room was pushed open. Mia walked in, dressed in a pristine white dress. “Leo?” Almost instantly, all the men shoved the women off their laps and scrambled to adjust their clothes. Including Leo. He pushed me aside, stood up, and walked over to Mia. He covered her eyes, his voice incredibly gentle: “Be a good girl, Mia. Give us a second to clean up.” Then he glared at the others, his eyes flashing with a warning: “Hurry up and get these women out of here! Don’t dirty Mia’s eyes.” The men scrambled—opening windows, shooing the escorts out. Someone even thoughtfully switched on the bright white overhead lights, illuminating the entire room. But it couldn’t illuminate the gloom settling over my heart. So, this is what it looks like when Leo genuinely cares about someone. This is what it looks like. I suddenly lost all desire to stay. I stood up and started walking toward the door. My movement startled the others, and someone quickly reminded Leo. “Leo, Sister-in-law is still here.” Leo frowned, blurting out instinctively: “So what if she is? It’s not like…” He seemed to catch himself, silently removing his hand from Mia’s eyes. He offered a flimsy excuse: “Mia is still young. She hasn’t been exposed to this kind of stuff. She’s not like you.” I smiled, though a trace of profound sorrow flashed through my eyes. He forgot that Mia was actually a year older than me. But because I had no place in his heart, he didn’t care about my feelings. I walked past them, ready to leave. But Mia suddenly blocked my path, her voice timid and delicate: “Sister-in-law, please don’t be mad. I actually came here to return something.” As she spoke, she opened a ring box, revealing the massive diamond inside. “Last time I saw the ring on your finger, I was so envious. I just casually mentioned I wanted one too.” “I never expected…” Mia cast a shy glance at Leo, her voice rising slightly, like a hook pulling at his attention. “I never expected Leo to actually remember. Just to make me happy, he gave me such an expensive diamond ring.” “I heard it’s the kind where you can only custom-order one in a lifetime. I felt too guilty to accept it, so I specifically came to give it back to you, Sister-in-law.” She said she was giving it back, but her grip on the box never loosened for a second. Looking down at the plain silver band on my own finger, I suddenly felt incredibly foolish. Two years of a relationship. Seven hundred and thirty days of companionship. Leo dismissed me with a plain silver ring that cost less than thirty bucks. Whether in bed or out of it, I had completely undervalued myself. I took two steps back. For the first time, I didn’t try to save face for Leo. I simply pushed the door open and left. The private room erupted in gasps. Someone scoffed, speaking loudly: “Who the hell does she think she is, throwing an attitude at Leo?” “Shut up!” Leo glared at the guy, his face dark as a storm cloud. It was already 3 AM by the time I left the bar. The streets were practically deserted. Only the occasional, restless cold wind blew past, sweeping me into memories. I met Leo two years ago during a part-time job. He said he had never met anyone as pure as me and wanted to have a relationship that would never end. I thought it was a joke and rejected him time and time again. Until New Year’s Eve that year, when my stepfather secretly picked the lock on my bedroom door. Terrified, I dialed Leo’s number. On that snowy night, he pulled me out of hell and promised to give me a home. I desperately wanted a home. During our two years together, he coaxed me into exploring every sexual boundary and promised me countless times that we would get married. But we had been engaged for six months, and only now did I realize the truth. Aside from this incredibly basic silver ring on my finger, I had never even met Leo’s family. Screw the engagement. Screw love. Screw… me. Tears blurred my vision. I pulled the engagement ring off and threw it into a trash can. Leo, I don’t want to marry you anymore. Two days left before I joined the classified project. The next morning, I woke up early to pack my bags. Leo, who hadn’t come home all night, walked in. He looked stunned for a moment, then immediately grabbed my hand. “Where are you going?” I didn’t look up, offering a simple explanation. “Finals are coming up. I’m moving back to the dorms.” Leo’s expression softened. He expertly wrapped his arms around my waist from behind, his tone suggestive: “For how many days? You know I can’t survive without you.” I used to enjoy this kind of sweet talk between lovers. Now, for some reason, it made me nauseous enough to throw up. I pulled out of his embrace and continued packing. With a casual glance, Leo noticed my bare finger. His eyes instantly turned cold. “Where’s your ring? Where did it go? Why aren’t you wearing it?” The rapid-fire questions caught me off guard. “It got dirty, so I took it off for now.” I don’t know if it was just my imagination, but Leo seemed to let out a sigh of relief. He smiled and casually promised: “If it’s dirty, just throw it away. It wasn’t worth much anyway. I’ll buy you a better one tomorrow.” Right, it wasn’t worth much anyway. Two years ago, when Leo proposed to me, it was in a hotel room. After a passionate session, I asked him with red eyes: “Leo, will you marry me?” Leo froze for two seconds, then pulled a completely unadorned silver ring from his pocket and slid it onto my finger. No flowers, no applause, and definitely no getting down on one knee. But I was foolish enough to believe he would bring me happiness. Thinking back on it now, my naivety is almost laughable. I zipped up my suitcase and went to the bathroom to wash my hands. My phone suddenly buzzed with a tag notification. A proposal video had been uploaded to Mia’s social media. In the shaky footage, Leo knelt on one knee amidst the cheers of the crowd, carefully sliding a diamond ring onto her finger. Under the lights, the massive diamond sparkled blindingly. It pierced my eyes. When I backed out and tried to click the video again, it was gone. All that was left was an apology message from Mia. “Sister-in-law, please don’t be mad. We were just messing around last night.” “I don’t know how I accidentally tagged you. We had originally agreed not to tell you.” “Sister-in-law, you aren’t angry, are you?” Mia’s provocative messages came one after another. Outside the bathroom door, Leo was knocking. “Chloe, what kind of ring do you like? I’ll take you to pick one out tomorrow, okay?” The massive dissonance felt like an invisible blade, repeatedly stabbing my already shredded heart. I sniffled and replied to Leo in a clear voice. “Okay.” That night, I don’t know what possessed Leo, but he insisted on dragging me to a corporate cocktail party. In our two years together, this was the first time he was willing to be seen with me at a public event. The party was going smoothly, and Leo was in a great mood. Until Mia barged in like a frightened little bunny and knocked a glass of red wine out of a wealthy businessman’s hand. The red wine splashed all over the man, and his face turned dark as a thundercloud. “What’s your problem? Watch where you’re going!” Mia’s eyes instantly welled up with tears. She looked at Leo pitifully, unable to speak a single word. Leo frowned and pulled Mia behind him, his tone stiff: “She’s just a young girl. Don’t make a big deal out of it, Mr. Chen.” His dry, unapologetic words made the businessman’s expression even darker. He pointed at Mia cowering behind Leo and sneered: “Fine. Have her pour me a drink and apologize, and I’ll let it go.” Mia tugged at Leo’s clothes like she was begging for her life, still refusing to speak. Leo patted her hand comfortingly, then suddenly turned his gaze to me. “Chloe, you pour Mr. Chen a drink and apologize on Mia’s behalf.” I froze for a moment, then immediately refused: “Why should I?” Leo frowned, looking at me like I was being completely unreasonable. “Mia is still young. She’s never had to deal with this kind of thing.” “You’re different. You’re used to it.” The surrounding area instantly fell silent. The guests looked at each other, their eyes gleaming with the anticipation of a good show. It wasn’t long before someone couldn’t hold back and winked at Leo. “I couldn’t tell. She’s so young, yet so experienced. Mr. Sterling is a lucky man.” “Yeah, absolutely. Mr. Sterling sure knows how to train them. Even the girl by his side is so ‘capable’.” “We all need to take notes from Mr. Sterling.” The malicious, suggestive comments drained the color from my face. Leo’s eyes sharpened, and just as he was about to speak, Mia dramatically fainted, as if she had been terrified out of her wits. Leo instantly panicked, scooping Mia up and rushing toward the exit. Leaving me alone to face the increasingly brazen and leering stares of the crowd. In the end, it was that wealthy businessman who stepped forward and escorted me out. When we parted ways, he draped his own jacket over my shoulders and said to me: “Little girl, you’re still young.” That one sentence shattered all my fabricated pride. When I got home, I stood in front of the closet for a long time. There was a lot of stuff inside, almost all of it gifts from Leo. I took them out one by one and laid them on the bed. A red lace slip dress—his gift for our 100-day anniversary. Black thigh-high garters—his gift for our one-year anniversary. Nude, pointed-toe stilettos—his gift for my 20th birthday. … Every single gift was custom-tailored by Leo for me. Every single item objectified me, reducing me to a tool to satisfy his desires. But I only just realized that this wasn’t love. My phone screen suddenly lit up. It was a message from Leo. [Mia is fine now. I’m coming back to pick you up.] [I bought you a new ring. I’ll give it to you when I get back.] [About tonight… I’m sorry.] A call suddenly came through. It was Professor Liu. “Chloe, there’s a change of plans. We need to leave a day early.” “The car to pick you up is already downstairs. Hurry up and pack your bags.” “Okay.” I wiped away my tears, grabbed my luggage, and left the place that had trapped me. Before boarding the plane, I sent Leo one final message. “Leo, I don’t love you anymore.” The next second, the long-silent chat log began to vibrate frantically. When Leo received my text, he was still at the hospital taking care of Mia, who was faking her fainting spell. During our time together, we rarely fought. Most of the time, he would be the one angry, and I would be the one groveling—whether with words or with my body. Even when we did argue, we rarely said anything harsh, let alone bring up breaking up. Leo, though shocked, assumed I was just angry that he had abandoned me at the party and left me with that businessman. He figured he just needed to buy me a gift and coax me a little once this was all over. I was always easy to coax; he had always done it this way. But when he realized my phone was completely unreachable, no matter how many times he called… He finally realized this time might be different. Panic set in. After learning that Mia was perfectly fine, Leo prepared to leave. As he was walking out, the woman grabbed his hand, begging him to stay: “Leo, stay with me, please? I’m scared to be alone.” Leo used to be completely powerless against her fragile act; as long as she asked, he would always agree. But today, for some unknown reason, he suddenly lost all patience with Mia. Even her delicate, gentle demeanor grated on his nerves. “I have things to do. Rest up.” With that, he turned and rushed back to the cocktail party. Mia watched his retreating back, her expression shifting from pitiful to incredibly venomous. She lowered her head, plotting who-knows-what. Leo drove back to the party. After searching the entire venue to no avail, he finally confirmed that I was truly gone. The party was full of all sorts of people. Worried I might be in danger, Leo frantically asked everyone if they had seen where I went. Memories from before we dated suddenly flooded his mind. He remembered my bloodshot eyes as I hid in a corner after being abused by my stepfather. A wave of crushing regret washed over him. Why did I choose another woman when she needed me the most?! Damn it! Leo’s frantic search caused a huge scene. Finally, someone who knew what had happened stepped forward to tell him the truth. I had been taken away by the wealthy businessman from earlier. Leo’s attitude toward me at the party had been terrible, his words full of cheap, degrading implications. Everyone there viewed me as nothing more than his plaything, and their speculations about my identity only grew more vulgar. After answering Leo, they began whispering amongst themselves, guessing where the businessman had taken me and what he was doing to me. When Leo gave all his gentleness and concern to Mia, he never anticipated the disaster his careless words would bring down upon me. Or perhaps he did anticipate it, but just didn’t care. His words: “Mia is still young… You’re used to it.” Were tantamount to shoving me off a cliff, making everyone believe I was a loose, cheap woman—an object that could be traded for money and lust at any moment. And with every possibility those people whispered, accompanied by sleazy chuckles… Leo finally exploded in rage. He seemed to believe their theories. After all, in his eyes, I was exactly that kind of shameless slut. Mia was the gentle, pure beauty. If I was willing to throw away my dignity to blindly please him, to endure insults from others and humiliation from him… Then I would surely please someone else just as eagerly. I would please that businessman. He pulled out his phone to call me, but I was already on a plane with my phone turned off. Unable to reach me only cemented my “illicit affair” with the businessman in his mind. He started sending me texts, using every degrading, insulting word he could think of: “Where did you go?” “Do you know I’m looking for you?” “Did you run off with someone richer? Or are you in some old man’s bed right now?” “Does he know your body as well as I do?” …

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1 Three years after my remarriage to Jaxson Mason, on Valentine’s Day, a reporter broke the news to me, his agent: a livestream of him “playing” with a popular young actress in a set restroom. After enduring the media onslaught, fighting back tears, I stormed over to the set, dragged him away from a table laden with food, and confronted him. “Jaxson Mason, if you couldn’t control yourself, why did you come crying and begging me to remarry you?!” “I was only twenty when I got with you! I even missed my mother’s last moments so I could support your acting career and help you win awards! And now, on Valentine’s Day, you’re openly causing a scandal with someone else? Do I mean nothing to you?!” A hickey was starkly visible on his collar. He exhaled a puff of smoke at me, a careless smirk on his lips. “Did I beg you to be with me at twenty? Did I tie your legs down so you couldn’t see your mother?” “Aria Taylor, you did it willingly.” I froze, my blood turning to ice. Only the person who loved you most knew exactly where to twist the knife. After a long silence, I choked back a sob and nodded. “You’re right.” But what he didn’t know was that if I could spend ten years making him a star, I could just as easily make someone else one. … The heating in the house was cranked high, yet my body was trembling. The dinner I’d spent three hours preparing on the table was already stone cold. Jaxson’s favorite dishes were placed closer to his seat, even though he hadn’t eaten a meal in this house in ages. Even though my workload was piled up for the next month, I’d still taken a few hours off because he’d mentioned wanting my cooking for Valentine’s Day. Now, he had driven the sharpest dagger straight into my heart. Tears streamed down my face, one after another, uncontrollably. I covered my face, sobbing. Jaxson impatiently pursed his lips, then reached out and wiped a tear from my cheek with his thumb. “Stop crying, it’s annoying.” “You’re not a twenty-year-old girl anymore. Tears don’t work on me.” I pushed his hand away, looking down to grab a tissue and harshly wipe my face. When was the last time I cried? It was at our wedding, when Jaxson couldn’t stop crying, saying he couldn’t live without me and would love everything about me. The man in front of me was still him, but how could his words have changed so much? After a long pause, a soft knock came at the door, and a head peeked in. “Boss, the big boss is on the phone…” It was Jaxson’s assistant. It seemed this mess was indeed quite big. I sniffled, took the phone, and said, my voice heavy, “Boss, I’ll consult with the other team before issuing a statement. They likely just had too much to drink…” Jaxson suddenly snatched the phone from me and yelled into it, “Remember to put all the blame on me in the announcement; Chloe Rivers has nothing to do with this.” His voice held a tender concern. “I couldn’t control myself… she’s still young, she can’t handle the media.” I shot my head up, my eyes wide with disbelief, my heart trembling violently. “Jaxson Mason, are you out of your mind?! That lurking reporter was called by Chloe Rivers herself! Don’t you know what she’s up to?!” He gave me a dismissive glance, nonchalant. “I know.” “I’m fine with it.” Those three words struck my heart with brutal force, making me sway precariously. He had said the same thing three months after our divorce when he came begging for reconciliation. Back then, he’d found my house, knelt at my doorstep for half the night, and almost set a hillside ablaze trying to light fireworks for a grand confession. When the media asked if he was okay, his eyes had sparkled, and he’d said the same thing. “As long as Aria’s happy, I’m fine with it.” I had softened then. But now, all my love and self-respect were being trampled underfoot. My thoughts snapped back to the present. Jaxson had already hung up the phone and was sitting at the table, looking at the spread of dishes. He picked up his chopsticks, grabbed a piece of his usual favorite spicy chicken, put it in his mouth, then quickly spat it out. “Disgusting. Next time, let’s just order takeout.” I picked up the dishes and dumped them all into the trash, shedding my last tear. “Alright.” Jaxson looked back at me, his gaze lingering, as if he wanted to say something but held back. An ill-timed ringtone broke the silence. He glanced at the caller ID, a smile touching his lips. “Chloe, yes, I’ll be right there.” I called out to him, my voice cold. “Jaxson Mason, if you walk out that door today, we’re getting a divorce.” He paused, his eyes briefly widening in surprise. “Aria Taylor, are you threatening me?” Then he let out a soft laugh. “You need to calm down first. Look at you, what a mess.” With that, he strode out without a backward glance. I looked at myself in the mirror: swollen, red eyes beneath disheveled hair, even the buttons on my shirt were mismatched. I looked like a lunatic. A bitter smile touched my lips. I changed my jacket, combed my hair, and headed to the office with my assistant to deal with work. There was no choice; life had to go on. As the car pulled into the parking lot, I spotted Jaxson, masked, chatting with someone. I intended to pretend I hadn’t seen him, but his words brought me to a dead halt. “What devotion? Back then, I just put on an act, going all out to reconcile with Aria, all for that resource she had that helped me win Best Actor.” My head exploded, and suddenly I couldn’t hear anything else. My memory flashed back to when I was twenty. After my graduation ceremony, I met Jaxson at the school gate. He took my hand and said he wanted to be an actor. “Aria, I know this path might be incredibly tough. But I want to try. Will you stay with me?” I looked into his fiery gaze and finally nodded. That path truly was incredibly tough. We had no connections, no resources. In the beginning, I acted as both his agent and assistant, running to sets in heavy snow, shamelessly asking directors if they needed anyone. It was too cold. We’d huddle together in our tiny rented apartment. He’d wrap the only down jacket around me, grinning foolishly. “Aria, I’m so glad you’re here.” Later, fate smiled upon him. He was finally discovered and became a huge star. The day he won Best Newcomer, Jaxson proposed to me, holding the trophy. That day, the top trending searches were filled with photos of him crying and embracing me. I thought our love had found its happy ending. So why did we divorce later? I couldn’t quite remember, only that Jaxson came home less and less, breaking away from the team to do his own thing, and the cold glare he’d sometimes cast my way. “I want to do what I love, not be a puppet under your arrangements. Aria, you just don’t understand me.” By then, I had become a prominent agent in the industry, yet I still only managed him. What I thought was good, he apparently didn’t appreciate. During our most intense argument, we went straight to the courthouse and divorced. Looking back now, in those three months after our divorce, Jaxson was indeed rarely active on screen. His subsequent rise to stable fame only came after he secured that resource I held. This remarriage was never pure to begin with. My heart was so cold it felt numb, beyond pain. Under my assistant’s bewildered gaze, I took several deep breaths and returned to the office. There was noise coming from the conference room; Jaxson and Chloe Rivers were livestreaming. “I hope everyone refrains from spreading those videos; it’s not good for Chloe. And I hope everyone can support our upcoming movie.” As Jaxson spoke, he saw me walk in, and his eyes flickered. “Ms. Taylor…” Chloe Rivers frantically jumped out of his embrace, so flustered she couldn’t even look at me. “What are you afraid of? They’ve handled the sneak shots; we’re just promoting the movie.” He forcefully pulled her back, giving me a nonchalant smile. “Ms. Aria Taylor, isn’t that right?” I watched with a blank face as he waved to the livestream, made playful remarks, flirted, and officially confirmed their relationship. After it ended, I let out a heavy sigh, suddenly wanting to clear things up. “Why her, of all people?” Jaxson was still staring at the woman’s lingering back. Hearing my question, his tongue pressed against his cheek. “Why ask so many questions?” He met my trembling gaze, a knowing, half-mocking smile on his lips. “It could be Chloe Rivers, or Claire Rivers, or Melanie Rivers. All of them are women I would actively choose.” “I told you, I only want to do what I love, not be forced by you, Ms. Aria Taylor, to film those commercials or go on those variety shows. What does any of that have to do with my acting career?!” Watching his increasingly agitated eyes, I suddenly laughed, a bitterly sarcastic sound. “Weren’t you ecstatic when you won Best Actor back then? What, did you forget that I also gave you that?” His eyes instantly turned cold, and he slammed his hand on the table. “Aria Taylor! Don’t you dare think you’re so incredible! It’s Jaxson Mason who got to where he is today, one step at a time!” “It’s my own hard work that has forged my current status. You, Aria Taylor, merely basked in my reflected glory. Anyone else could have done the same!” My nails dug deep into my palms. Suddenly, I understood. He resented me. He resented that his brilliant career was even partially attributed to me, resented the arrangements he had to accept even as he wished to break free. In an instant, all the bitterness and pain settled into a quiet calm. I looked at him for a long time, then nodded faintly. “If that’s how you feel, then that’s fine.” Then, I walked into the CEO’s office and handed over a document. “Mr. Thompson, I will no longer be managing Jaxson Mason. Additionally, this male artist’s profile looks promising. Please take a look.” I hadn’t expected Chloe Rivers to find me so quickly. Or to be so direct. “I’m pregnant. It’s Jaxson’s.” This wasn’t the first time I’d dealt with Jaxson’s rumored girlfriends. The previous girls were all quite green, constrained, and I’d sent them packing with a mix of veiled threats and encouragement. But Chloe Rivers was different. Her eyes gleamed with ambition. And why wouldn’t they? To enter the entertainment industry and land a lead role opposite Jaxson in just three months, she couldn’t possibly be that naive. I wasn’t in the mood to play games. “What do you want?” Her eyes flashed with a determined glint. “I want to be with him, to go public with our relationship. And I want your resources.” She was audacious enough to target me, the wronged party. I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. The woman mistook it for mockery, and her expression soured. “Ms. Aria Taylor, I have plenty of chat records with him. I wouldn’t mind telling the media. See you next Monday.” She then paused, seemingly remembering something, and let out a peculiar laugh. “Were you forced to have an abortion back then, so now you want me to have one too?” My blood froze at that moment, and my mind instantly went blank. She covered her mouth, stifling a giggle, her face full of mocking triumph at having hit a nerve. “You act so proud in front of me, but weren’t you on your knees, big with child, begging Jaxson back then? Aria Taylor, are you his dog?” “If it were me, I’d want to find a rope and hang myself.” My pupils suddenly dilated, and my breathing became rapid. Jaxson and I’s first child had come at the most inopportune time. He had just landed a supporting role and needed to join the set. I sent him off to the set, then went through the pregnancy alone, thinking it would be a surprise. Until I was five months along, that show, along with Jaxson, suddenly exploded in popularity. He was on trending topics for weeks, all the spotlights chasing him. When he returned home and saw me, pregnant, his smile froze on his face. “What… what is this…?” My heart plummeted, and I suddenly realized something was wrong. After smoking half a pack of cigarettes, he took my hand and said the baby couldn’t stay. “Aria, I finally got to this point. Opportunity waits for no one! If people found out I had a child out of wedlock, who knows how many rumors there would be!” “You know how long I waited for this chance. We’ll have more children. Please, alright?” I looked at his pleading eyes, but my tears wouldn’t stop. Finally, my emotions collapsed, and I knelt on the ground, begging him. He squatted down, holding me tightly, but still wouldn’t relent. After he accompanied me through the abortion, he canceled all work and stayed by my side day and night as I had nightmares, never leaving my side. I convinced myself to bury that painful memory. But… “How do you know?!” Chloe Rivers propped up her chin, a knowing smirk on her face. “It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it? Jaxson told me in bed.” A voice in my head told me not to get emotional, but my whole body started trembling uncontrollably. Memories collapsed before my eyes, shattering into pieces, impossible to put back together. “Chloe Rivers, shut your damn mouth!” Jaxson appeared out of nowhere, his face cold, and started dragging her away. The woman’s eyes widened suddenly, quickly welling up with tears. “Jaxson, how can you do this to me… I’m carrying your child!” His brow was furrowed deeply, too annoyed to even control his expression. “Things said in bed stay in bed, didn’t I tell you?” “Retire from the industry, and give birth to the child in peace. I’ll give you a sum of money. Chloe Rivers, I’ve given you more than enough.” He looked deeply at me, his hand resting on my shoulder, and said in a low voice, “That time, I drank too much… I didn’t mean what I said.” I abruptly pushed his hand away, a desolate smile on my face. “Jaxson Mason, let’s make a deal.” Fighting back the pain in my heart, I looked at the man I once loved so deeply and said, word for word, “The child can stay. We’re getting a divorce.” Jaxson’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Aria Taylor, what are you saying?!” Chloe Rivers quickly rolled her eyes, feigning an injured look. “To bear your child, I’m willing to retire from the industry, Jaxson. As long as I have a place in your heart…” She continued, “I know, you must be worried about me getting an abortion and harming my body.” After she spoke, she didn’t forget to give me a triumphant look. But Jaxson didn’t even see it. He was just staring intently at me. “Are you really going to be so heartless, Aria? All because of a child!” I smiled weakly, a smile that ultimately faded. “You’re the heartless one, Jaxson Mason.” “Yes, because you had a child with someone else, I want a divorce. You don’t agree?” He should have felt relieved. The man’s eyes trembled violently, and he glared at me fiercely. “I don’t agree!”

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Three years after our divorce, I ran into Ethan again on the streets of America. I was a volunteer handing out cold medicine, and he was a homeless man who had fallen below the poverty line. Ironically, back then, we divorced over a box of cold medicine. “Two pills, twice a day.” I handed him the medicine, my tone as flat as if we were strangers. But Ethan’s eyes reddened. “Chloe, you still hate me.” I didn’t look up, continuing to hand out the medicine. “This medicine costs one dollar. It’s very cheap. But back then, it forced me to sell my blood.” “Ethan, how could I not hate you?” 1 I spoke of my hatred so casually. Behind me, Ethan froze, unable to utter another word. After a long while, I heard his footsteps fading away. I turned around and watched Ethan’s thin figure swallowed by Seattle’s gray, freezing rain. “Chloe, do you know that homeless guy?” Someone gently nudged my arm. It was Mia, my junior from college, basically from the same hometown. I withdrew my gaze and nodded. “Yeah, my ex-husband.” Mia gasped, unable to suppress the shock in her voice: “Ex… ex-husband?” “Chloe, how could you marry a homeless man?” I shook my head and finished handing out the last pack of cold medicine before explaining: “When I met him, he wasn’t like this.” “We’re almost done here. This rain is going to get heavier, let’s get back to the university.” Along the way, seeing Mia’s curious but hesitant expression, I smiled helplessly. I casually told her about my past with Ethan. It was a very unoriginal college romance story. After graduation, he became a software engineer in Silicon Valley, and I was an actuary at a securities firm. Our income was substantial. The apartment we rented was in a wealthy neighborhood with good security. According to my plan, we would own our own home in five years, get married, have a cute baby, and become just another lighted window among millions in the city. Listening to this, Mia frowned deeply. “That sounds like a very happy life. Why did you divorce?” “Did Ethan cheat?” I gently pressed down her clenched fist and explained: “No, he didn’t cheat, and neither did I.” “We divorced because of a pot.” Mia’s eyes widened, thinking I must be joking. Perhaps it was more than just a pot. Three years ago, on a rainy night just like this. I asked Ethan to stop by a department store after work to buy a new pot. The non-stick coating on our landlord’s old pot was almost completely worn off. I was in charge of buying groceries, planning to cook a special dinner for our anniversary. In my imagination—the pot would be bubbling, Ethan would sniff the air and say, “Smells amazing,” and then, starting over soup, we would talk about our future. We would talk about how maybe next year we could buy our own house, or maybe get a cat. But when the door opened, Ethan excitedly held up a new camera and waved me over frantically: “Babe, come check this out!” “I paid extra to snag it, it’s a limited edition!” I stared at the camera, stunned for a few seconds. The plastic grocery bags dug into my hands, leaving deep red marks and a numb, throbbing pain. I instinctively asked: “Where’s the pot?” Ethan seemed caught off guard by the question. But he quickly smiled, his face full of nonchalance: “It’s just a pot. The department store isn’t going anywhere, we can buy it anytime.” “But if I missed this, it would be gone forever! Isn’t a camera way more romantic than a pot?” “Oh, by the way, I saw we still had some money in our joint account, so I bought plane tickets. Hurry up and pack, we’re taking the new camera to Iceland to chase the Northern Lights right now!” I didn’t say anything else. I just set down the grocery bags. Silently, I took out my phone and opened our joint account. Balance: $0.41. Not even enough to pay this month’s water bill. Ethan’s excited voice kept chattering in my ear: “Babe, I’m telling you, this camera has incredible high ISO performance. Our Northern Lights photos won’t have any noise at all. When we get back from Iceland, we’ll print them out and stick them on the fridge…” A familiar sense of powerlessness washed over me. I felt so tired. For three years, Ethan had always been like this. He lived in the moment, getting whatever he wanted immediately, even if it meant racking up credit card debt. And what I wanted was a future that I could comfortably plan for, a future that could withstand risks. I looked up at him, still excitedly playing with his new camera. Suddenly, it became clear to me: Ethan and I were fundamentally not on the same path. “Let’s get a divorce.” 2 With a clack, the camera in Ethan’s hand slipped and hit the corner of the table. He looked at me blankly: “Divorce?” “Why? Because I didn’t buy the pot? Or because I bought tickets to Iceland without discussing it with you first? Chloe, over something this tiny?” They were all tiny things. But enough tiny things scattered on the floor can drive a person to the breaking point. “Ethan, I’ve told you so many times.” “I don’t want to live this kind of life. I don’t want to constantly see our account balance in the single digits. I don’t want to have to use a credit card for every single purchase. I don’t want us to keep bouncing around, renting apartments everywhere.” “Being with you is exhausting.” Ethan acted like he had heard the biggest joke in the world, his voice rising as he argued: “Being with me is exhausting? I work hard every day. I want to show you the most beautiful scenery, I want to record our lives with the best lens, and that makes you exhausted?” “Yes! That is exactly what makes me exhausted!” Three years of accumulated bitterness and resentment suddenly exploded. I couldn’t help but yell. I opened my phone’s notepad, scrolled to the very top, turned the screen to Ethan, and demanded: “Ethan, do you remember this?” It was a simple note: Goal: House Down Payment. Current Total: $47,218 Progress: 21.2% The last time it was updated was three years ago, the afternoon we first saw that little apartment. Ethan’s eyes flickered. “You were the one who said you wanted to give us a home.” “My overtime pay from working late nights, the money I saved from skipping every cup of coffee and milk tea, all my savings went into this. But do you remember where this money ended up?” I opened another screenshot of an expired travel booking. “In the first month of our marriage, you maxed out the credit cards prepaying for that ‘Arctic Photography Tour.’ When your salary was delayed and you couldn’t pay the credit card bill, we almost couldn’t even pay rent. We had to use this money.” I pulled up one electronic receipt after another. “And this one, that ‘High Altitude Skydiving Experience Camp’ you said you absolutely had to attend last year, that used our emergency risk fund. You even spent an extra five thousand buying a whole new set of gear.” “And two months ago, we finally managed to save a little money. And you changed cars again, switching to a financed performance car. You said experiencing new driving dynamics was fun.” “Ethan, have you ever thought about our future?” His lips moved, but no sound came out. He just silently lowered his head. “Every time we go grocery shopping, I compare prices and calculate the weight, while you just stand there scrolling on your phone, impatiently telling me to just grab whatever because it’s only a few dollars’ difference!” “I told you we should take a class to learn something new because the layoff wave is severe. You said it was a waste of money, and then turned around and bought a new lens.” “I budget carefully for months, and you swipe your credit card for in-game purchases without blinking an eye.” … Perhaps my line-by-line recollection provoked Ethan’s anger. He frustratedly ran a hand through his hair. “Chloe, can you please not be so materialistic!” “All you see are pots and pans, rent and utilities. If life is only about those things, what’s the difference between that and being a walking corpse? I just want to make our lives more meaningful.” Two tears rolled down my face in sheer exhaustion. “Meaningful?” “But your ‘meaning’ means we can’t even afford this month’s water bill.” Ethan turned pale with anger. “Money!” “It’s money again, you’re always talking about money!” “We can always earn more money, but some opportunities, if you miss them…” I cut Ethan off. I didn’t want to continue this exhausting argument. “It’s been three whole years! Every time I say I want to save for a down payment, you say, ‘Renting is better, it’s freedom.’ Every time I get anxious about the uncertainty of the future, you say, ‘Why think so much, just be happy now.’” “Ethan, I want a home, and you can’t give it to me.” He was nailed to the spot by my words, his chest heaving, but he couldn’t find the words to refute me. Only the sound of our heavy breathing filled the room. I looked at this man I had loved for three years. His carefree and unrestrained nature, which had once captivated me, now seemed like nothing more than a willful refusal to grow up. I turned my head and saw his packed suitcase in the corner. My intense emotions suddenly subsided, and I looked at Ethan: “Make a decision.” “Are you going to chase your Northern Lights, or face the utility bills at home with me?” 3 The door closed behind me. Ethan was gone. I stood there numbly for two seconds before finally coming to my senses. I found a lawyer’s number and dialed it. “Hello, I’d like to ask you to draft a divorce agreement for me as soon as possible.” “We have no joint assets, only some debts to divide. As soon as possible, thank you.” Hanging up, the rain outside seemed to fall heavier. Even my own breathing became hot and rapid. It might have been from getting rained on outside the supermarket earlier, or it might have been the physical reaction to the emotional rollercoaster. I dragged my heavy steps back to the bedroom. I took my temperature: 101.3 degrees Fahrenheit. I was running a fever. I rummaged around for a long time and only found one expired fever-reducing pill in the house. But I couldn’t care less; I swallowed it with cold water, praying the fever would be gone when I woke up. But the situation was much worse than I thought. In the middle of the night, I was awakened by the pain all over my body. It felt like a volcano was erupting inside me. I couldn’t go on like this. Yet, delirious with fever, my instinctive reaction was to reach out to Ethan for help. Beep. Beep. Beep. It wasn’t until the busy signal sounded for the third time that my foggy brain finally realized: Ethan should be on a plane to Iceland right now. How could he answer the phone? I let out a dry laugh, which made my throat hurt even more. Laughing at how fever-addled I must be to still rely on him. I thought of my colleagues instead. Even though I hated bothering others, in this situation, I had to swallow my pride. But the voice from the receiver was a cold, mechanical prompt: “Sorry, your service has been suspended due to unpaid bills. Please recharge as soon as possible to restore service.” Suspended? I wanted to recharge, so I clicked into the payment page. But where could the money be deducted from? Our account only had $0.41 left. I couldn’t even afford the cheapest mobile plan. Phone service and internet are tied together. If the phone is suspended, that means the internet is gone too. I couldn’t even send out a cry for help. I had to save myself. Fortunately, the offline map still worked. I squinted, searching painstakingly, and found the nearest 24-hour clinic was three miles away. If I drove, it wouldn’t be too far. I struggled to the garage and turned on the light. Empty. Only then did I sluggishly remember that Ethan had taken the car to be modded yesterday. At the time, I suggested renting a car just in case, since we lived in the suburbs and transportation was inconvenient. Ethan immediately shook his head: “The bus stop and subway are right outside, why waste the money? I’m just changing the exhaust pipe, they’re really fast, I’ll be able to drive it back tomorrow.” “What could possibly happen? Stop worrying about useless things.” But now there was no car. I stood there, freezing cold, unable to even stand steady. If my fever continued, I might just die at home. No. I had to go to the hospital. Using all my strength, I dug out the thickest down jacket from my closet, put on two pairs of pants, pulled my socks high, and haphazardly wrapped a scarf around my neck, mouth, and nose, trying to trap whatever little heat I had left. I couldn’t hold an umbrella, so I put on a raincoat. Pushing open the door, Seattle at 3:30 AM felt like a massive, damp, freezing refrigerator. The cold pierced to the bone, and every step I took felt like walking on clouds, my head spinning. I kept my head down and walked, not daring to stop. Suddenly, several pairs of dirty shoes stopped in front of me, blocking my path. I slowly raised my head. It was three men. They were soaked, radiating a strong, pungent stench of alcohol mixed with tobacco. They grinned at me lewdly, practically vibrating with excitement. I instantly knew something was wrong. I turned to run, but one of the men grabbed me and yanked the hood of my raincoat off. “Dressed so warmly… hiding something good under there?” I let out a hoarse scream. “No… get away!” But two of them were already dragging me, pulling me toward the darker woods nearby. 4 Freezing rainwater poured down the back of my neck, but I no longer cared about shivering. I struggled with everything I had, but my sick body was no match for the strength of three adult men. The raincoat was torn out of shape, and the foul, hot breath of the men enveloped me. “Help—!” In the end, I couldn’t help but scream shrilly in Chinese. I knew it was useless, but I was so terrified. They let out harsh, grating laughs, as if my fear was part of the entertainment. I was shoved, my back slamming against a cold, wet tree trunk, and a heavy body pressed against me. Breath reeking of alcohol sprayed on my face. One hand covered my mouth, while the other began tearing at my clothes haphazardly, reaching inside… The world narrowed down to the twisted faces before my eyes and the disgusting jeers in my ears. Bang! A gunshot rang out. Bang! Bang! Two more shots. My hand holding the gun was trembling. I am not Ethan; I loathe taking risks. That’s why I always had the habit of carrying a concealed handgun whenever I went out. Two shots missed, only grazing the oversized jacket of the man in front of me. The last shot hit a leg. “Get out!” “Or you all die right here!” The three men were terrified by my ruthlessness and scrambled away, disappearing deep into the woods. I leaned against the tree trunk, my eyes locked on the direction they vanished. Only when I was certain there were no more sounds did I struggle to pick up the clothes that had been torn off me from the ground. Ignoring how dirty they were, I forced them back onto my body, pulled on the raincoat, and kept walking. I don’t know how long it passed before I finally reached the hospital. I stumbled toward the front desk. “Help… me.” The nurse on duty looked as if she had seen many people like me. Expressionlessly, she handed me a form: “The initial fee for emergency assistance is $200. How will you be paying?” I instinctively reached for my wallet. It was gone. Probably snatched by those animals while I was struggling. I could only clench my fingers tightly and ask: “I just want a box of cold medicine, the kind that reduces fever.” The nurse looked at me, unmoving. Instead, she asked: “Basic fever reducer, $1. Cash or card?” $1? But I couldn’t even pull out $1. All I had to my name was the $0.41 Ethan had left behind. The nurse waited quietly for a few seconds, her gaze sweeping over my pathetic state. As if understanding something, she nodded toward a specific direction. “See that door with the blue light? Legal plasma donation center. Open 24 hours.” “Ma’am, you can sell some blood for money.” She paused, her gaze returning to my face. As if assessing me: “Not only enough to buy this medicine, but you might even be able to pay off a chunk of whatever credit card debt you have.” I didn’t want to sell my blood. But I wanted to live, so I had to. The needle pierced my skin, and I watched the blood flow quickly through the plastic tube into the collection bag. The first bag was full, and the machine beeped. I opened my mouth, uttering a weak sound: “Enough, stop. I’m only selling this much!” “I feel terrible!” No one answered me. The nurse forcefully pushed me back down and swapped in another empty bag. “Relax, ma’am. Your vitals are good, you can donate more.” “We will compensate you generously. A full $500!” The second bag of blood was also filling rapidly. The edges of my vision darkened, and the sounds around me grew distant. I felt like I was going to die right there. It wasn’t until the second bag was full that the nurse’s voice sounded like it was coming from far away: “Alright, the money has been deposited into your account.” With the money, I finally received treatment. The day I was discharged from the hospital and returned home, Ethan also concluded his trip to Iceland. He pushed the door open excitedly, holding a large paper bag from a department store. Inside was exactly the pot I had asked him to buy before. Ethan didn’t even notice my sickly state. He presented the pot to me like a precious treasure. “Babe, look! The pot you wanted!” “Let’s not fight anymore, okay? Strangely enough, when I got off the plane, I saw there were a few hundred extra dollars in my account. It must be my overtime pay coming in early.” “So I immediately thought of buying the pot for you, to make up for my mistake!” I looked at Ethan’s face, completely devoid of any gloom, even looking for praise. A wave of overwhelming nausea churned in my stomach. I raised my hand and threw the hospital receipts right in his face: “Ethan, do you know why there was a few hundred extra dollars?” “That’s because I sold my blood.”

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Someone on the street was begging for a dollar to buy food. I told my mom it was a scam. But she said, “Who would sell their dignity for a single dollar?” Frustration flared inside me. “But years ago, for just a dollar, you made me kneel for a whole day and night!” “Was my dignity not dignity?!” She snapped her head up to glare at me. “You? You think you even deserve to talk about dignity?!” 1 “Besides, you deserved every bit of it!” “You scored a 95 on a math test instead of a 100, and you actually had the nerve to ask me for a dollar?!” “You? You think you even deserve to talk about dignity?!” Even though it had been over a decade. Even though she had played the role of a loving mother in front of me for years. The moment it was brought up, her teeth ground with pure hatred. That bitter, mean face she had hidden for so long was instantly exposed. She said, “You’re lucky I didn’t strip you naked and make you kneel outside the front door! What right do you have to talk to me about dignity?!” “If you truly understood dignity, you wouldn’t have just gone to some mediocre college, found such a trash job, and brought home such a pathetic excuse for a salary every month! You’ve made it so I can’t even hold my head up in front of our relatives!” Her voice grew louder and louder, as if she wished everyone on the street would stop and watch me be humiliated. Yet, just moments before this, we had looked like the perfect picture of a loving mother and a filial daughter, holding hands and chatting happily while shopping. I had even secretly bought the gold bracelet she had been talking about for ages. I planned to surprise her with it on her birthday in a few days, to make her happy. The sudden shift happened simply because— She saw someone on the street begging on their knees for a dollar to buy food, and eagerly rushed over to give them money. And all I did was quietly whisper to her that it was a scam, telling her not to fall for it. She instantly swatted my hand away, frowned, and asked me, “Do you think I’m an idiot?” “They’re dressed cleanly! Who would sell their dignity for just a dollar?!” Hearing that, I don’t know what came over me. It just reminded me of the time, years ago, when she made me kneel for a day and a night over a single dollar! I can’t even remember why I needed that dollar, but I will never forget the humiliation for the rest of my life! She just sat on the sofa, humming a tune and holding a stick, staring at me. If I so much as moved a muscle, she would swing the stick at me. She made me kneel for a full 24 hours. No food, no water, and no bathroom breaks. And because I couldn’t hold it, I peed all over the floor… She then ordered me to take off my clothes and use them to wipe the floor clean. Even now, over a decade later, thinking about it still fills me with sorrow and burning shame. But she just had to add one more sentence. “You think everyone is like you? Willing to throw away all their shame for a few bucks?” Hearing that, I froze, my face burning as if slapped. I instinctively fired back: “So you do remember making me kneel for a day and a night over a dollar, and even beating me again after I couldn’t hold it and peed the floor.” “Did you think my dignity wasn’t dignity back then?” But who could have predicted that this one sentence would instantly enrage her. She blurted out, “You don’t have any damn dignity!” 2 That single sentence snapped me right back to my childhood. Even the hairs on my arms stood up. Yet, while she was cursing me, she pulled out a ten-dollar bill. In an instant, she switched back to the persona of a compassionate, loving mother. She crouched down and pressed it into the person’s hand. She said to that stranger the exact words I had desperately hoped to hear her say to me countless times when I was little. She said, “Here, child, take this! Go get yourself a good meal! I believe you’re not a scammer!” But when she looked back up at me, her eyes were bloodshot with rage. I was supposedly her closest family, yet her malice toward me was greater than toward anyone else. She knew exactly what words would cut me the deepest. She stared at me, enunciating every word: “Unlike you, you ungrateful wretch! If I had known, I would have listened to your grandmother and drowned you in the toilet the day you were born!” “What use is there in raising you? You selfish brat! You never think of me when you get anything good! I wish I could travel back in time and strangle you!” I trembled, my eyes suddenly stinging, feeling an overwhelming sense of injustice. How do I never think of her? I worked so hard to save up a few thousand dollars, and just because she kept complaining about how other people had gold bracelets and she didn’t, I bit the bullet and bought one for her! Even though I hadn’t given it to her yet, she was in my heart. I had just prepared a surprise for her, and she says she wishes she had strangled me! When I grew up, I did think about escaping my toxic family. But ever since I graduated and started working, it was like she suddenly became a different person. She put away that aggressive, demeaning demeanor that had to criticize and humiliate me at every turn. She started showing concern for me, started remembering what kinds of food I liked. In the past, she never gave me red envelopes for the Lunar New Year. Now, she would send me red envelopes for the New Year and my birthday. She would even buy me some of the things I desperately wanted when I was little. Even though I didn’t want those things anymore, she kept buying them and putting them in my room, one after another. Occasionally, when we talked about the past, she would cry bitterly, saying it was her first time being a mother, that she didn’t do a good job, and asking me to be understanding and forgiving. She would also talk about how my dad just walked out, leaving her alone to raise me, facing so many hardships and so many judging eyes. After slapping me countless times, she finally gave me a piece of candy once I started working. And unconsciously, swayed by her fake repentance and tears, I found myself forced into playing the role of the loving mother and dutiful daughter. Simply because I had never experienced these things before. So much so that when she gave me just a tiny taste of sweetness, I thought she was giving me all her love. Until today, when she humiliated me over a single dollar once again. I suddenly snapped out of this self-deceiving lie— She hadn’t changed at all. No matter how well she disguised it, she was still the person who didn’t respect me, who didn’t love me. No matter how sweet that candy was, it was laced with poison. The facade of a loving mother and filial daughter we had maintained for years felt like a complete joke in this moment. Seeing the crowd of onlookers growing larger, my first instinct was to leave. “I don’t want to fight with you here. Let’s talk about this when we get home!” Seeing me turn to leave, she grabbed me tight. “You’ve always been like this! Always trying to run away when things happen! Don’t even think about leaving today until you make this clear!” “Tell me! What does it matter to you if I give someone a dollar out of kindness?” “Don’t think I don’t know! While I was in the bathroom earlier, you spent thousands buying yourself a gold bracelet!” “I’ve lived for decades and still haven’t worn a gold bracelet. You’re so young, what right do you have to secretly buy one for yourself?!” “Besides, did I say anything about you spending thousands? I spend a single dollar, and you give me this kind of attitude?!” In a flash, it all made sense! I finally understood. So this was the root of it all! 3 It turned out she didn’t explode in anger because I warned her about a scam. It was because she saw me buy that gold bracelet. She saw me sneakily tuck it into my pocket and mistakenly assumed I was secretly buying it for myself. Suddenly, my desire to give her a birthday surprise felt utterly laughable. Because she was selfish, she naturally assumed I was just as selfish. Things she had never possessed, she would absolutely forbid me from possessing first. Even if I earned the money myself and bought it myself, she still felt I didn’t deserve it. Because she saw me hide it, she deliberately started picking a fight. Deliberately bringing up the humiliation that dollar caused me years ago. Deliberately baiting me into bringing up the past, only to pin all the blame on me. To force me to lower my head, offer up the gold bracelet with both hands, and apologize to her. The realization sent a chill down my spine. I had to admit the truth— My mother didn’t love me at all. In fact, she was full of jealousy and calculation toward me. But the more she wanted it, the more determined I was not to give it to her! I tugged at the corner of my mouth, done indulging her. “Who exactly is giving who attitude?” I said. “Haven’t you always been the one throwing attitude for no reason?” “If you want…” Before I could finish, she suddenly raised her hand. The sound of a slap made me instinctively turn my head. But the slap didn’t land on my face. Like a madwoman, she slapped herself twice, screaming with a tearful voice. “It’s me! It’s me, your old mother, giving you attitude, okay?!” “It’s my fault! I was wrong! I shouldn’t have spent a dollar to show some kindness, okay?!” “Chloe! I am your mother, and I’m apologizing to you, is that enough?!” Me: “…” I never in a million years expected her to pull this stunt. I stood there frozen, at a loss for what to do. Someone from the crowd stepped forward to persuade me: “Let it go, let it go. It’s just a dollar. Why force your mother into this state?” “Besides, you shouldn’t be so absolute. It’s just a few bucks. What if the person isn’t a scammer?” “Your mother is so kind-hearted. Aren’t you afraid of being struck by lightning for forcing her to slap herself?” “And another thing, do you know how hard it was for your mother to raise you? Forget the dollar, I think you should give that gold bracelet you bought to your mother!” Listening to these moral kidnappings, a hint of smugness flashed across my mother’s face. Everyone thought this was about a single dollar. Only I knew it wasn’t about the dollar at all. But I couldn’t defend myself. For the first time, I deeply understood the weight of the saying: “Don’t urge others to be forgiving when you haven’t suffered their pain.” I felt humiliated and furious. But my mother gripped me tightly. Those narrow eyes were filled with calculation. She raised an eyebrow and glared at me. “Chloe, don’t you think you’re being selfish?” “I raised you, and you treat me like a fool, right? You buy a bracelet behind my back, yet I have to endure your attitude over spending a single dollar! By what right?” “If you don’t give me an explanation today, I will spill all your dirty secrets right in front of all these people!” Hearing that threat, a cold shiver ran through my body. 4 I quickly ran through all my “so-called” dirty secrets in my mind. When I got my period for the first time and stained my pants, she made me stand downstairs with bare legs, shivering in the cold, drawing points and stares from a crowd. When I first started developing, because my chest was slightly noticeable, people at school called me a slut and a tramp. When she found out, not only did she refuse to buy me a training bra, she called me a troublemaker. I secretly cut up old clothes to make two small tank tops to wear. When she found out, she cursed me out, saying I was trying every trick in the book to seduce men at such a young age. … Things like this were too numerous to count. Even worse, at every family gathering, she would tell these “dirty secrets” as jokes to others. The more embarrassed and humiliated I felt, the more excited she became. When I hid away to cry, she would stand nearby, unconsciously humming a tune and laughing. After laughing, she would say, “Heh, you’re the one acting cheap, but you won’t let people talk about it?” She was bringing up the past today. When it came down to it, she just wanted the bracelet in my hand! And not only that, she wanted me to put it on her with immense gratitude, making a huge spectacle of thanking her for raising me. Otherwise, this wasn’t going to blow over! As my thoughts returned to the present, the crowd of onlookers had grown even larger. Only the scammer who had begged for a dollar quietly folded up his cardboard sign and slipped away. But no one cared if he was a scammer anymore. The onlookers didn’t care who was right or wrong. They just wanted a show, or to record a video and post it online, hoping it would go viral. And my mother only wanted the bracelet in my hand. She wanted it, but refused to just ask for it directly. She had to orchestrate this entire scene to force me to offer it up willingly. Seeing my long silence, a hint of threat and smugness touched the corners of her eyes. “Chloe, I am your mother! Do you think I can’t handle you?” “If you don’t show some proper attitude and apologize to me today, this isn’t over!” Right. In her eyes, I was just a marionette she could mold and manipulate however she pleased. She counted on my soft personality and fear of losing face. She was also certain I wouldn’t dare make a scene with her in front of so many people. Indeed, based on my past behavior. I would compromise. I would go along with her wishes to make the situation pass quickly. I would continue to maintain the illusion of a loving mother-daughter relationship in the eyes of others. But she overlooked something. I don’t know exactly when, but her back had slowly begun to stoop. While my spine grew straighter and straighter. All that “face” I used to care about was only because I still considered her my mother. Once I stopped caring… If you can give someone a dollar to show your kindness. I can give someone a gold bracelet to show my kindness. Who isn’t a good Samaritan?

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “392032”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

It started with a birthday gift. I bought one for a female classmate, but not for my sister. My parents decided I was “abnormal.” They called it a deviation. To fix me, they sent me away to Serenity Ridge Academy, a therapeutic boarding school designed to cure “behavioral anomalies” and “difficult cases.” In the first year, I lost a pinky finger because I couldn’t tie my shoes fast enough. I had no one to tell. In the second year, my stomach swelled with a child that never came to be, and then went flat again. In the third year, when my mind finally shattered and I could no longer feel fear, pain, or hope… That was when Mom and Dad finally remembered to come pick me up. 1 My wrists were zip-tied to the metal frame of the bed when the heavy steel door creaked open. The sudden flood of light made me flinch, my body curling into a defensive ball before my brain could even process who was there. “I’m good. I won’t run. Please don’t hit me. Please.” Mr. Henderson, the program director, yanked me up from the floor. His face, usually a mask of indifference, twisted into a performative grin. “It’s your lucky day, Hollis. Your family finally remembered you exist.” He leaned in close, his breath smelling of stale coffee and mints. “You know the drill. You know what to say, and more importantly, what not to say. You know the consequences.” I nodded numbly, hiding my trembling hands behind my back. “I know. I’ll be… I’ll be good. I won’t say the bad things.” My voice was a ruin. A harsh, gravelly rasp. The result of the time they forced me to swallow industrial cleaner. Talking hurt, but silence hurt more. They hosed me down and shoved me into clean clothes. Then, the moment I had dreamed of a thousand times happened. The iron gates buzzed open. The sky was violently blue, so bright it made my eyes water. Mom and Dad were standing by the Range Rover. My older brother, Gary, and my twin sister, Piper, were there too. Seeing Piper—seeing the face that was identical to mine but unmarred by hell—made bile rise in my throat. For three years, I had been forced to look in a mirror and call myself filthy. Looking at her was like looking at a pristine version of my own ghost. I averted my gaze, digging my fingernails into my wrist to ground myself. I stepped forward, head bowed, shoulders slumped. “Mom. Dad. Gary.” Dad frowned, checking his watch. “Your sister came all this way to get you, too. Look at her, Hollis.” Piper crossed her arms, letting out a dramatic huff. “I knew she still hated me. I literally gave up my spot in the front seat for you, Hollis. What more do you want?” We were twins. Born on the same day. But because I emerged minutes earlier, I was the older sister. I was the one expected to yield, to sacrifice, to fade into the background so she could shine. Gary’s voice was stern, the voice of a man used to giving orders. “Three years, Hollis. Haven’t you learned how to behave yet?” My body went rigid. Muscle memory took over. “Present. I’m listening. I learned. I’m good now.” Serenity Ridge had strict rules. Year one: I was ten seconds late tying my laces. They took my finger with a cigar cutter. Year two: I tried to swallow pills to end it. They pumped my stomach with toilet bowl cleaner. That’s why I sound like this. Year three: I used a rusted piece of metal to open my veins. I bled all over the linoleum. My reward was solitary confinement. Hands bound behind my back. Darkness. Beatings. There was no escape from hell. Dad seemed satisfied with my submission. “Good. Looks like the program worked. The rehabilitation was a success.” He paused, a warning in his eyes. “No bullying your sister from now on.” I didn’t defend myself. “I’ll be good. I’ll listen.” Those were the only words that mattered inside. Mom looked at me, her eyes glistening with a performative kind of maternal warmth. “Okay, that’s enough. The counselors say Hollis has made great progress. We booked a table at Le Jardin to celebrate. Let’s go.” I tucked my left hand deeper into my sleeve to hide the missing digit and followed them into the car. The restaurant was elegant. The table was filled with delicate, expensive dishes I hadn’t seen in years. At the Ridge, we didn’t use utensils. Utensils were weapons. Most days, we ate with our hands. Sometimes, for punishment, we ate off the floor like dogs. “Hollis,” Mom said as the appetizers arrived. “It’s your birthday today. What do you want?” Was it? I had lost track of time. I squeezed my hands together under the table. “Will Dad… send me back?” Dad straightened his blazer, exuding the authority of the patriarch. “The director says you’ve improved, but we’re on a probation period. Piper is fragile, you know that. As long as you listen and put her first, I won’t send you back. For now.” The counselors did home visits. If the parents complained—if they said, this child is not fixed—the van would come back. I had seen girls return. The punishment for a “failed release” was worse than death. I forced the corners of my mouth up. It felt like stretching old leather. “Thank you, Dad.” “We drove all the way out here on your birthday,” Dad said, sounding proud of his benevolence. “I hope you understand that everything we did these past three years… it was for your own good. It was tough love.” “I know,” I whispered. “Alright, eat,” Mom said. Dad picked up his fork. I mimicked him. I reached for the heavy silver chopsticks—Le Jardin was fusion—trying to reclaim some shred of human dignity. But my fingers wouldn’t cooperate. The nerves were shot. My hand shook violently. Clatter. Clatter. The chopsticks hit the porcelain bowl. The sound was like a gunshot in the quiet restaurant. Dad tolerated it for ten seconds before slamming his own utensils down. “Are you doing this on purpose? Are you still resenting me?” 2 I shot up from my chair. “Report! No, sir.” “Then why aren’t you eating?” In a split second, the restaurant dissolved. I was back in the Mess Hall. The concrete floor. The smell of mildew. Mr. Henderson ordering me to eat the vomit I’d just expelled. I won’t. Then you kneel until you do. Hunger strikes meant beatings. Solitary meant three days without water. No one holds out forever. In the end, you kneel. You eat like a dog. Fear hijacked my brain. Survival instinct kicked in. I grabbed the food from my plate with my bare hands and shoved it into my mouth. The beautifully plated sea bass. The garnish. The rice. I didn’t taste any of it. It was ash. But I had to eat. I had to show them I was compliant. I crammed it in until my cheeks bulged, grease smearing my face. “Hollis, stop! You’re scaring people!” Mom hissed. Dad’s face turned purple. “Enough! You look like an animal. Sit down and use your utensils!” “Yes, sir.” I swallowed the lump in my throat and sat back down. I had consumed enough calories to function. In the Ridge, if you ate too slow, the others starved. I sat perfectly still, eyes fixed on the middle distance. Mom ladled some soup into a bowl for me. “Here. Have some broth. It’s good for you.” “I’m full,” I said mechanically. “Thank you, Mother.” Mom’s hand paused in mid-air. She looked at me, and for a second, a flicker of something unsettled crossed her eyes. I used to cry for her. I used to scream her name in my sleep. Now, I felt nothing. Looking at them was like looking at mannequins in a store window. They were talking, laughing, playing the perfect family. I felt like I was watching them through a pane of thick, dirty glass. I stopped trying to decode their conversation. I retreated into the safety of my own mind. I don’t remember the drive home. When I got to my old room, I laid on the bed. The mattress was too soft. It felt wrong. I felt exposed. I grabbed the duvet and dragged it into the corner of the room, wedging myself between the nightstand and the wall. The pressure against my back felt like safety. A knock at the door. I scrambled up. It was Mom. She looked guilty. “Hollis… I have a gift for you, too. Tell Mom, what do you want? Anything.” “Okay. Give everything to Piper.” She looked into my eyes. I knew what she saw. A dead thing. Hollow. “I’m asking what you want, sweetheart.” I thought about it. I wanted that jagged piece of metal again. I wanted to sink to the bottom of the bathtub and inhale the water. I wanted to know if a knife sliding between my ribs would finally make me feel something. I wanted to unmake myself. “Staying home,” I rasped. “Staying home is fine.” “Okay… sure. Whatever you want.” She looked disturbed. But I didn’t move. I stood at attention, waiting for the command to be at ease. Disobedience meant the Chair. “Hollis, you’re home now. You don’t have to be so… stiff.” “Yes, ma’am.” She left. I waited a full ten minutes before I silently closed the door. I went back to my corner, curled up in the duvet, and hugged my knees. I dreamed of my nineteenth birthday. A girl in my chemistry class had given me a sketchbook. It was handmade. Piper wanted it. I always gave Piper everything. But not that. That was mine. Piper ran to Mom and Dad. She twisted the story. She said I was obsessed with the girl. That I was writing love letters. The argument exploded. The box fell. A letter fell out—one the girl had written, confessing a crush I didn’t even know about. Mom and Dad didn’t listen. They saw “lesbian.” They saw “abnormal.” They saw a threat to the family image. We need to fix her before she humiliates us. They sent the goons that night. In the dream, I was back in the Reflection Room. They laughed at me while they strapped me down. “Thought you didn’t like men, huh?” “Let’s see if we can change that.” I woke up screaming, but no sound came out. The room was dark. I stood up and looked in the vanity mirror. My face shifted. It wasn’t me. It was the girl who died from the drain cleaner, her liver burned out. It was the boy whose arm they broke. Then it became Mr. Henderson. Then the other instructors. They were coming out of the glass. Smash. My fist went through the mirror before I realized I’d moved. The hallucination shattered. Blood dripped from my knuckles onto the vanity. The pain was sharp, electric. My heart hammered against my ribs. The shards of glass lay on the table like diamonds. A voice in my head—sweet, seductive—whispered: Do it. Pick it up. Open the vein. It ends tonight. I reached for a jagged shard. In the reflection of the broken glass, I saw a figure in the doorway. Gary. He flipped the light switch. “What the hell are you doing?” 3 I dropped the glass. I dropped to my knees, forehead touching the floor. “I didn’t mean to. The mirror… it broke itself. Please. Please don’t touch me.” The noise woke the house. Piper appeared in the doorway, yawning, wearing silk pajamas. “God, Hollis. It’s a reform school, not a gulag. You did online classes and calisthenics. Stop being so dramatic. You’ve been home for six hours and you’re already seeking attention.” She looked annoyed. Bored. I blinked, the adrenaline fading into confusion. “I… I didn’t mean to.” Mom gasped. “Oh my god, look at the blood. Should we call a doctor?” Dad scoffed from the hallway. “No. No doctors. We don’t need a scene.” He turned to Gary. “She’s just adjusting. Gary, deal with it.” “Go back to bed,” Gary said. “Sorry, Gary,” I whispered, hiding my bleeding hand behind my back. “Go sleep. I can… I can handle the cleanup.” Gary frowned. For the first time, his eyes didn’t look angry. They looked… unsettled. “Let me see it.” I kept my hand hidden. Exposure meant vulnerability. Vulnerability meant pain. “Hollis.” His voice had that command tone. I slid off the stool and curled into a ball on the floor. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I know I’m wrong.” “Why are you acting like this?” Gary asked, genuinely confused. I looked around. Plush carpet. heavy curtains. I was safe? Or would the broken mirror be the strike that sent me back? I didn’t dare stand up. Gary stepped forward and forcibly took my wrist, pulling my bleeding hand into the light. “Why?” he asked. “Mirror broke. I wanted to see. I fell.” “Why are you talking like that?” Gary asked. “Like a robot?” My brain was buzzing. Static noise. My fingers were trembling so hard I thought they might detach. Gary stared at me. “Does it hurt?” Hurt? Three years. This was the first time anyone had asked me that. Did it? I shook my head. “No pain. Please. Don’t tell Dad.” He sighed, sitting on the floor with me. He fetched the first aid kit and cleaned the shards out of my knuckles. “Next time something breaks, just call me,” he said, wrapping the gauze. “Don’t do it yourself.” Call him? I had called him. I had screamed for him. I had begged for him every night for a thousand nights. He never came. I nodded anyway. When he left, I crawled back into my corner behind the curtains. I stopped coming out. I didn’t feel hungry. My brain felt like it had been unplugged. I could sit by the window and watch the dust motes dance for twelve hours straight. Sometimes they sent food. Sometimes I forced myself to eat, only to vomit it back up. I was broken. Even eating was a skill I had lost. Then, she came back. I saw her standing by the bookshelf. 4 “Hollis! Get it together!” she snapped. “You said when you got out, you were going to finish college. You were going to be somebody.” “Are you really going to let Piper win?” I looked at the books on my shelf. I recognized the letters, but when I tried to read, the words swam away. I couldn’t focus. My brain was damaged. But I couldn’t admit that. Not to her. “Rory,” I whispered. “Did your parents come get you too?” The girl standing by the window rolled her eyes. She was chewing on a lollipop, looking like the tough, cool punk rocker she always was. “You forgot? My parents threw me away years ago.” “Can you… can you stay with me?” She shrugged, trying to look indifferent. “Yeah. Sure.” With Rory there, the house felt less like a tomb. “Are you hungry?” I asked her. She shook her head. Strange. Rory was always hungry. She used to steal bread crusts from the trash. She must be being polite. I went downstairs and asked the housekeeper for two sets of silverware. She looked at me like I was crazy. “Is… does Miss Hollis have a guest?” I nodded. Dinner was awkward. Dad and Gary were home early. Gary stared at the extra place setting I had arranged next to me. He ate the portion I had served for Rory. I opened my mouth to protest, but Rory whispered, “It’s fine. I’m really not hungry.” Good. I wasn’t either. I pushed my plate toward Dad. “Dad. When can I… go back to school?” Dad avoided my eyes. He cut his steak with surgical precision. “There are some paperwork issues. We need to wait.” “Next semester, maybe. It’s too late to enroll now.” They told everyone I was on medical leave. Paperwork took time. I believed him. That night, I woke up in a panic. Rory wasn’t in her spot on the floor. I crept out to the hallway. I heard voices from the study. “What happens if she finds out Piper took her acceptance letter?” Mom whispered. Dad sounded dismissive. “So what? The company is stabilizing under Gary. Worst case, we send Hollis to some community college or ship her overseas.” “Piper needed that start. Hollis is… damaged goods.” “How could she like women? Disgusting. Piper is our future now. We can’t have that kind of scandal.” My admission letter. They gave it to Piper? They erased me. They replaced me. I backed away into the shadows. Rory was there. She handed me a tissue. “Where did you go?” I choked out. “Don’t cry,” she said. She pulled me into a hug. She smelled like rain and ozone. The pain in my chest was unbearable. It felt like my heart was being carved out with a dull spoon. I gasped for air, wheezing like a broken accordion. “Rory… am I dying?” She rubbed my back. “Don’t be scared. I’m right here with you.” 5 I survived the night. When morning came, the pain was gone. In fact, everything felt light. My head was clear. My body felt weightless. I felt… happy. It felt like three years ago. Before the cage. I put on my favorite dress from before—it hung loose on my skeletal frame—and grabbed my purse. “Come on, Rory. Let’s go.” “You always said you wanted to see the ocean.” “The ocean is too far, but there’s the lake. It’s big enough.” I ran into Piper on the stairs. “Who are you talking to?” she asked, wrinkling her nose. I smiled at her. A genuine smile. “Rory.” She looked at me like I was hallucinating, but I didn’t care. Not today. I walked out the door. “Where are you going?” Piper called out. “To see the sea.” “Hollis, you’re insane. We live in Illinois.” I called an Uber to the city center. I bought two ice cream cones. I handed one to Rory. She fumbled it, and it splattered on the sidewalk. I laughed and bought another one. “Don’t drop it this time.” The vendor stared at me. I ate my ice cream. It tasted like vanilla and freedom. I went to a bakery and bought two slices of blueberry cake. Rory’s favorite. I went to the Italian place she always talked about. “I promised I’d treat you if we got out,” I told the empty chair across from me. “I keep my promises.” My bank account was low, so I ordered pasta instead of steak. But we had a feast. We walked past a candy store. I bought orange gummy bears. I bought a pink stuffed bunny from a gift shop. Rory acted tough, but she loved cute things. My arms were full of gifts. Rory couldn’t carry anything. Her hands were injured from that last time in the Reflection Room. I skipped down the street. “You’re twenty-one, Hollis,” Rory teased. “Act your age.” “You act like you’re thirty, Grandma,” I shot back. She laughed. She was a year younger than me. But she had always been the brave one. Sunset. The sky was bleeding crimson. I sat on the edge of the pier at the lake. The sound of the water drowned out the city traffic. I opened a can of soda for her. I laid out the postcard of her favorite band. The wind off the water smelled metallic. “I did it,” I whispered. “Everything I promised.” Rory looked at me. Her eyes were red. They were filled with a terrible, crushing pity. “You promised me you’d live, Hollis.” I took a sip of my soda. The bubbles fizzed on my tongue, but there was no sweetness. “I can’t go to college. Piper took it. There is no future.” My phone buzzed. It was a notification. Rory’s grandmother—the account I had secretly followed—had started a livestream. I opened it. An old woman with white hair was weeping into the camera. “My granddaughter died at Serenity Ridge Academy. Her body was covered in bruises. I am begging the authorities… please investigate.” “Her parents threw her away. But I never gave up on her.” “Her name was Rory Vance.” The soda can slipped from my fingers. Clatter. Fizz. The glare off the lake was blinding. I turned my head slowly to the left. The space beside me was empty. The pain returned. A spear through the lungs. A high-pitched ringing screamed in my ears. My phone rang. It was Piper. “Hollis? I Googled that name. Rory Vance? Hate to break it to you, but she’s dead. Like, months ago.” It was the first time she’d called me by my name without a sneer. “I know.” My voice was calm. I hung up. The dam broke. The memories flooded back. Rory was my only friend. We tried to run. They caught us at the fence. Rory shoved me behind her. The guard swung a piece of rebar. It went through her leg. Infection. Sepsis. They didn’t call a doctor. They threw her in solitary to “cool off.” She died in my arms on the concrete floor. Her last words were: Don’t forget me. My fingers convulsed, gripping the cold stone railing of the pier. I felt like I was breathing through wet cotton. I dug my nails into the stone until they broke. The pain was grounding. But it wasn’t enough. Nothing was enough to silence the screaming in my head. My body moved on its own. I stepped up onto the railing. The dark water churned below. Finally. Silence. I saw her again. Rory. Standing on the water. Pale. Cold. Sad. I leaned forward. A hand grabbed my wrist from behind. A pale hand with a scar shaped like a ruler—the scar she got taking a beating for me. “I’m sorry,” I sobbed, looking at the air behind me. “I failed you.” “Rory, it hurts too much.” “Let me go. Please.” The hand vanished. The grip released. Gravity took me. I fell into the lake like I was falling into her arms. The cold was absolute. The suffocation was a mercy. Hollis, don’t wake up this time.

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Right before New Year’s Eve, my husband and his childhood best friend went backcountry skiing in the Tetons. They were caught in an avalanche. I clawed my way to the emergency room, half-blind with panic, only to find him in the throes of severe hypothermia. Delirious and shivering violently, he mistook me for a triage nurse. He gripped my hand with a desperate, bruising strength, gasping out his dying wish, word by agonizing word. “If I don’t make it… everything in my name. The accounts, the house. All of it goes to Sadie… and her little girl.” In that freezing, sterile room, my heart turned entirely to ash. 1 I stood there, the blood draining from my face, staring at the man I had been married to for five years. I listened to him rewrite the ending of our life together in what he believed were his final, fleeting moments of consciousness. His first thought—his only thought as he stared down death—wasn’t of me. It wasn’t of our four-year-old son. It was of Sadie. The widow of his late best friend. The ER doctor’s voice cut through the ringing in my ears, sharp and confused. “Ma’am? Are you Garrett’s wife?” I nodded. A single, wooden movement. Having confirmed I wasn’t an apparition, the doctor’s tone shifted into rapid-fire clinical detachment. “His core temperature is critically low. We’re rushing him to the ICU to stabilize him. These were found in his jacket. Phone, GoPro. We need you to hold onto his valuables.” After Garrett was wheeled through the swinging double doors, leaving a wake of shouting nurses behind him, I sat in the hard plastic waiting room chair. I unzipped the waterproof case of his GoPro. My fingers were completely numb as I hit play. The screen flickered to life. It was footage from inside a snow cave. The space was claustrophobic, bathed in an eerie, glacial blue light. Garrett and Sadie were huddled together. He had his arms wrapped securely around her, shielding her with his own body, holding her like she was made of spun glass. Over the howling of the wind outside, I heard my husband’s voice. It was a raw, whispered prayer. “God, if this is it, take me. Let me trade my life for hers. Sadie has to live.” A jagged breath. “She has a daughter. Mia is so small. So sweet. She can’t grow up without a mother.” A tear broke free, hot and stinging against my cold cheek, splashing onto the screen. In the space between life and death, he didn’t spare a single thought for his own flesh and blood. He thought of someone else’s child. Our son is only five years old. The pain was visceral—a tightening in my chest so sharp it felt like my ribs were fracturing one by one. I couldn’t breathe. Ever since his best friend, Carter, passed away in a car accident and asked Garrett to “look out for them,” my husband had metamorphosed into a stranger. On our son Miles’s birthday, Garrett was at a theme park, holding Sadie’s purse while she and Mia rode the carousel. On our wedding anniversary, he was under Sadie’s sink, fixing a leaky pipe. Just last month, he attended a father-son field day at Miles’s preschool. The moment he saw Sadie and Mia looking “lost and overwhelmed” across the lawn, he abandoned his own child in the middle of a three-legged race. Miles was the laughingstock of the playground. For the sake of our son, I had swallowed the resentment. I had played the understanding wife. But this? Leaving every dime to a woman who wasn’t his wife? How dare he. Half of everything in our bank accounts was money I had bled for. I built that savings account with late nights and skipped lunches. What gave him the right to hand my livelihood over to another woman as a romantic parting gift? By the time the surgeon emerged from the ICU to tell me Garrett was stable, the foundation of my marriage had already crumbled. I was already planning the demolition. 2 The doctor said it was a miracle they were dug out in time. Garrett was out of the woods, but they needed to keep him under observation for a few days. I stood by his hospital bed and lightly brushed the back of my hand against his forehead. His eyes fluttered open. He blinked against the harsh fluorescent light, and then his gaze found mine. “Sadie?” he croaked, panic lacing his voice. “Is Sadie okay?” I stared down at him, my expression utterly blank. “She was wrapped in your coat, tucked against your chest. Her core temp barely dropped. She’s doing much better than you.” Maybe staring death in the face makes a man delusional, because despite the absolute frost in my voice, Garrett actually chuckled. “Brooke,” he sighed, offering a weak, patronizing smile. “Why do you always have to be so jealous over the smallest things? It was a crisis. I did what I had to do to keep her alive.” I didn’t say a word. I just looked at him. Looked into the eyes of the man I thought I knew. The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating, until Garrett’s smile faltered. A flicker of guilt finally crossed his face. He reached out and caught my hand, stroking my knuckles the way he used to when we were twenty-three and he was trying to coax me out of a bad mood. “Brooke, babe, please don’t overthink this. Sadie is Carter’s widow. I just feel incredibly sorry for them. They’re on their own. The only reason we even went up the mountain was to fulfill Carter’s dying wish—to scatter his ashes from the highest peak.” He squeezed my fingers. “I’m fine, really. I’m just worried about Sadie because…” Right on cue, the door creaked open. Sadie hobbled in, leaning heavily on a nurse. Her condition was, indeed, vastly superior to Garrett’s. Aside from a slight limp from a frostbitten toe, she looked perfectly fragile and devastatingly tragic. The moment she saw Garrett, she gasped, shook off the nurse’s arm, and practically threw herself onto his bed. I, the actual wife, was suddenly relegated to the role of an awkward spectator. “Garrett! Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” Sadie sobbed, burying her face in his hospital gown. “This is all my fault. I was so selfish, insisting we go all the way up for the ashes. I almost got us killed. Do you know what I was thinking when I woke up? I was thinking that if you died trying to save me, I would never, ever forgive myself. I wouldn’t want to live.” “Sades, hey, look at me. Calm down.” Garrett made a half-hearted attempt to gently push her back, but when she clung tighter, he surrendered, letting her weep against his chest. “We made it. We’re okay. Don’t talk like that,” he murmured softly. “Think about Mia. If something happened to you, what would happen to her?” “I know,” she sniffled, looking up at him with wide, tear-filled eyes. “We still have Mia. We have our little girl…” “Excuse me.” I stood up. The legs of my plastic chair scraped violently against the linoleum. “I hate to interrupt this touching cinematic moment, but did you just say our little girl? Are you confessing to sleeping with my husband while Carter was still alive, or did you guys just forget who you’re actually married to?” My voice was a razor blade. Sadie flinched as if I had struck her. She scrambled off Garrett’s chest, suddenly hyper-aware of my presence, and nervously tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Oh! Brooke… I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you standing there,” she stammered, her voice breathless and sweet. “Please don’t be mad. It’s just… ever since Carter passed, Garrett has treated Mia like his own flesh and blood. To Mia, he basically is her father. He fills that void for her.” As she pushed her hair back, my eyes locked onto her wrist. A heavy, unmistakable glint of yellow gold. A Cartier Love bracelet. When Garrett and I first got married, we were broke. We lived on boxed mac and cheese and shared a single beat-up Honda. In the quiet darkness of our first apartment, he used to hold me and promise, “When I make it, Brooke, I’m buying you a heavy gold bangle. Something you can flash in front of all your friends.” Last month, right before Valentine’s Day, I was doing laundry. I pulled that exact Cartier box out of his jacket pocket. I spent the next three days practically glowing, thinking he had finally remembered the promise he made to the twenty-three-year-old girl who married him with nothing. On Valentine’s night, I spent four hours cooking a ridiculously expensive tenderloin dinner. At 9:00 PM, I got a text. He wasn’t coming home. Sadie’s power had gone out, and she was “terrified” of being alone in the dark with Mia. We had a screaming match over the phone that night. I was so angry I never even brought up the bracelet. I assumed he had returned it in a fit of spite. And now, here it was. Resting delicately on Sadie’s wrist. The temperature in the room seemed to drop another ten degrees. 3 Garrett shot me a warning glare. “Brooke, enough. Do not speak to her like that. A woman’s reputation is everything. If you go around saying things like that, how is she supposed to show her face in our friend group?” Hearing him fiercely defend her honor over my legitimate anger was a betrayal so profound it knocked the breath out of me. But I refused to give them the satisfaction of a hysterical wife in a hospital room. Naturally, Sadie seized the opportunity to play the gracious peacemaker. “Garrett, don’t yell at her,” Sadie said, her voice dripping with sickly-sweet empathy. “I’m sure Brooke didn’t mean it. She just loves you so much, she’s feeling a little territorial. I’m a girl’s girl, Brooke. I totally get why you’d be jealous. It’s natural.” Garrett’s expression instantly softened as he looked at Sadie, but when he turned back to me, his eyes were hard with disappointment. I saw right through her. It was a masterful, subtle manipulation. By pretending to defend me, she painted me as the crazy, irrational, jealous wife, while she stood there looking like a saint. “Tell you what, Brooke,” Sadie offered, pulling out her phone. “Let’s exchange numbers. That way, if you ever can’t track Garrett down, you can just text me! He’s usually with us anyway.” He’s usually with us anyway. She delivered the line with the casual confidence of the primary partner. I was the mistress in my own marriage. I pulled out my phone. I didn’t flinch. I let her scan my code. But nothing could have prepared me for the quiet devastation of opening Sadie’s Instagram profile later that night. Her grid was a meticulously curated shrine to their emotional affair. Every post was a breadcrumb of the life they were living behind my back. Garrett had claimed he was just “helping a grieving widow get out of the house.” While I was drowning in the beautiful, exhausting trench of early motherhood, juggling potty training and ear infections, they were chasing the Northern Lights in Alaska. They were drinking hot cocoa in Banff. They were horseback riding through the vast, open plains of Wyoming. There were photos of them cave diving in Mexico. The captions never explicitly said “I love you,” but the way they looked at each other in the water—the absolute, tethered reliance in their eyes—screamed it. I walked back into the hospital room, holding my phone up so the glowing screen faced him. “It looks like you spend significantly more time playing the adventurous boyfriend to your dead best friend’s wife than you do actually being married to me,” I said, my voice dead calm. “Does this look appropriate to you, Garrett?” Garrett sighed, rubbing his temples like I was giving him a migraine. “You know how it is, Brooke. After Carter died, Sadie was completely isolated. She was slipping into a depression. I was just taking her to see the world. Trying to get her mind right.” I closed my eyes. A hollow, desolate wave washed over me. You can never wake a person who is pretending to be asleep. I turned on my heel and walked out of the room without another word. I sat in my car in the hospital parking garage, called my best friend, and asked for the number of the most vicious divorce attorney and private investigator she knew. If we were burning this down, I was making sure the ashes didn’t land in Sadie’s lap. I needed airtight evidence of his financial infidelity. Garrett was going to leave this marriage with the clothes on his back. 4 Garrett was discharged three days later. Miles and I went to pick him up. My five-year-old hadn’t seen his dad in a week, and he practically vibrated with excitement. He clung to Garrett’s leg like a little koala, chattering a mile a minute about kindergarten, dinosaurs, and Lego sets. That night, as Garrett tucked him in, Miles looked up with wide, anxious eyes. “Are you really going to sleep in our house tonight, Daddy? You won’t leave?” My heart broke into a thousand jagged pieces. I understood exactly where that anxiety came from. Half the time Garrett promised to do bedtime, his phone would ring with a “Sadie emergency,” and he would vanish into the night. My son was learning that his father’s love was conditional. Thankfully, Garrett stayed put that night. He stayed until Miles fell into a deep, peaceful sleep. The next morning, as Garrett helped him with his backpack, Miles beamed. “Daddy! Today is the Family Field Day at school. You and Mommy are coming this afternoon, right?” Garrett smiled, brushing a hand through Miles’s hair. “Of course, buddy. I wouldn’t miss it.” Miles jutted out his lower lip, a rare flash of defiance crossing his sweet face. “Promise? Because last time you promised, you went and played with Mia instead. The kids in my class said I don’t even have a real dad.” Garrett froze. The color drained from his face, replaced by a sudden, heavy guilt. He kneeled down so they were eye-to-eye. “Miles, I swear to you. I am going to be there for you today. Just you.” Appeased, Miles skipped out the door to the school bus. After dropping Miles off, Garrett seemed to undergo a miraculous, temporary reset. He was attentive. He did the dishes. He went out to run errands and came back with a box from the expensive bakery downtown—two slices of strawberry shortcake. For a split second, standing in our sunlit kitchen, it felt like we had time-traveled back to the early days of our marriage. Garrett wrapped his arms around my waist from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder. “I know strawberries are your favorite. Miles gets his sweet tooth from you.” He kissed my temple. “Brooke… I’m so sorry. I know I’ve been neglecting you and Miles lately. I want to fix this.” I almost leaned into him. Almost. Then, his phone buzzed violently on the granite countertop. Garrett let go of me to check the screen. His entire demeanor shifted. The warmth evaporated. “Brooke,” he said, avoiding my gaze. “Sadie says her leg is throbbing really badly. I… I should go check on her.” I looked down at the countertop. “Garrett. Did you secretly go to medical school while we were married?” “What?” He blinked, thrown off by the question. “Are you a doctor?” I asked, looking up at him with dead eyes. “Is looking at her leg going to magically cure it? We have to leave for the school in an hour.” “I’ll be quick.” “And if you don’t make it back in time?” Garrett stood there, paralyzed by his own pathetic indecision. He was actively weighing his son’s heart against Sadie’s phantom pains. Finally, he stepped forward and pressed a hurried kiss to my forehead. “I’ll be right back, Brooke. I swear. If I’m running a few minutes late, just tell Miles I’m on my way.” He grabbed his keys, threw on his jacket, and rushed out the door. I listened to the sound of his truck starting in the driveway. The heavy thud of the front door closing was the sound of the final lock snapping shut on my heart. Whatever lingering softness I had held onto was gone. Without a change in expression, I picked up the box of strawberry shortcake and dropped it straight into the garbage can. I checked my phone. My lawyer had emailed. The PI had struck gold—there was a mountain of financial evidence proving Garrett had been siphoning marital funds to pay for Sadie’s lifestyle. When the papers were filed, I would hold all the cards. I was just grabbing my purse to head to the kindergarten when my phone rang. It was the school. “Mrs. Davis,” the teacher said, her voice tight with panic. “You need to get here right now. Miles just assaulted another student.”

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