Category: English

My department director, Linda, always said I was her favorite in the whole company. She praised my sharp mind and hard work, constantly boasting that I was her star pupil, hand-picked and trained by her. The other colleagues envied me, saying Linda favored me and that sticking with her guaranteed a bright future. Just because I casually mentioned having a sensitive stomach once, Linda started bringing me a stomach-soothing breakfast every single morning. She even spent her free time in the office researching and making different kinds of stomach-nourishing porridges and cakes, bringing me a new variety every day. She constantly reminded me not to skip breakfast and to take care of my health. However, her cooking skills were terrible. Either the multigrain porridge wasn’t cooked through and nearly chipped my teeth, or the cakes had too much baking soda. Our department manager held a concurrent position at the head office and was away year-round, leaving Linda practically in charge of everything in the team. Occasionally, I would vent to my colleagues about the breakfasts, but they would just tease me. “You’re complaining about a good thing! Linda manages the whole team yet still keeps your stomach in mind. Be grateful.” I could only swallow my grievances and keep my mouth shut. That is, until my third year at the company, when I landed a massive 150-million-dollar contract. The company specifically threw a victory banquet for me at a five-star hotel. The big boss even announced he would give me a special individual bonus to recognize my achievement. At the banquet, Linda personally brought over a thermos container, smiling as she said, “Chloe, your stomach is sensitive. You shouldn’t eat the heavy, spicy food from outside. I specially made you some clear noodle soup. Eat up.” Then, still smiling, she handed me a thick red envelope. I opened it to find a single coin. A shiny, one-dollar coin. Looking at the soggy, clumped-up noodles, I slammed the thermos right in front of her. “Keep your fake concern. I want my rightful bonus, every single cent of it, right now!” 1 Broth splashed everywhere. Yellowed vegetable leaves lay limply on top of the clumped, sticky noodles. It looked sloppy and half-hearted. All my colleagues froze, then someone whispered, “So ungrateful. Linda treats her so well, and she embarrasses her like this over a little bonus.” Manager Davis also looked angry, his face darkening: “Chloe, what kind of scene are you making? Director Linda made that stomach-soothing soup specifically for you, keeping your health in mind. The bonus is a gesture from the company. Is this any way to act?” Linda’s eyes instantly reddened. She pulled out a tissue and dabbed delicately at her eyes, her voice soft and fragile: “It’s all my fault. I didn’t plan it well. The noodles got soggy and made Chloe feel wronged.” “As for the bonus, it was decided by the top management. One dollar symbolizes a smooth and prosperous journey ahead. It represents the company’s high hopes for you.” “Chloe, I truly value talent. Salespeople easily ruin their stomachs. If the bonus is too large, I was afraid it would go to your head and you’d lose focus…” A wave of condemnation instantly washed over me. Some said I was spoiled and ungrateful, that I had forgotten Linda’s mentorship all for the sake of money. Looking at Linda’s aggrieved and “considerate” act, I let out a cold snort. I pulled a stack of documents from my bag, placed the one-dollar coin on top, and waved them at everyone. “Spoiled and ungrateful? Forgot my mentorship?” “In my first year, here are the files for twenty-eight contracts. The total bonuses amounted to 360,000 dollars, but every single time, they were credited to Linda, because she claimed the clients were ‘company resources.’” “Every time, she used the excuse that the sales department had high expenses, that we needed to buy gifts and give kickbacks to clients, and directly pocketed the money.” “For this 150-million-dollar mega-contract, I ground it out for four months, traveling to ten different cities to negotiate. You give me a one-dollar bonus and claim it’s for my own good? I want to know, whose pocket did the 150,000-dollar bonus from head office actually end up in?” Everyone was stunned. The color instantly drained from Linda’s face. Exposed, she still tried to maintain her composure, bending down to pick up the thermos, her voice choked with emotion. “Chloe, I’m truly doing this for your own good. Why can’t you understand?” “To be in sales, you need a healthy body. You’re young and like junk food. I’ve brought you breakfast for a whole year to protect your stomach. How many clean, healthy meals have I made for you?” “As for the bonus, you’re still young. You should look at the big picture, prioritize the company’s interests, and be humble. That’s how the bosses will value you, and you’ll get promoted faster.” A senior colleague, Sarah, quickly tried to smooth things over, pulling my arm. “Chloe, don’t be so stubborn. Linda is doing this for your future. At every sales meeting, she specifically mentions your name and praises you. We’ve all seen how she takes care of you.” Other colleagues chimed in. “Chloe, apologize to Linda quickly. She’s giving you major responsibilities and trying to groom you. How can you be so short-sighted and only care about immediate, petty profits?” Linda immediately played along, looking at me with a face full of “heartache.” “No need for an apology. We’re mentor and mentee, it’s what I should do.” “I just value talent and want to cultivate more capable and visionary elites for the company.” “Chloe, if the food isn’t good, you can tell me, and I’ll remake it. As for the bonus, if it really comes down to it, I can give you my share. Just don’t be angry.” She reached out to affectionately grab my hand. The smell of that bland noodle soup clinging to her, combined with her hypocritical posturing, made my stomach churn. I shook off her hand, my voice cold as ice. “Linda, I can take care of my own health. I don’t need you to go out of your way for me.” “As for the bonus, I earned it with my own ability. Why would I want your share? If head office wants to groom someone, they look at their capability, not someone who violates company policy, arbitrarily alters the bonus structure, and causes internal friction and drain among the staff.” Hearing this, my colleagues gossiped even louder, rolling their eyes and accusing me. “It’s just a bowl of noodles and a bonus. Is it worth throwing such a huge tantrum?” “Exactly. Linda remembered her sensitive stomach every single day for a year. Anyone else would be overflowing with gratitude. Instead, she publicly turns on her for a little money.” “Young people nowadays only care about profit. They’re so restless and materialistic, no sense of loyalty at all. Linda really nurtured an ungrateful snake.” 2 Manager Davis’s face was livid. He slammed his hand heavily on the table. “Chloe, shut your mouth! Director Linda ran herself ragged organizing this victory banquet and even prepared a gift specifically for you. What right do you have to slander her like this? You must apologize to Director Linda.” As soon as he finished speaking, Linda promptly had her assistant bring over a gift box and placed it in front of me, smiling. “Chloe, I know you work hard, constantly staying up late to finish proposals. This is a special gift for you: the newest lumbar support cushion. You sit for long periods, and your back suffers. This will make it more comfortable.” I opened the box to find a flimsy cloth cushion clearly bought from a cheap dollar store. The foam was completely flat, the edges were fraying, and the printed pattern was blurry. My accumulated anger finally exploded. I threw the cushion on the floor and stomped on it hard. “Who wants this garbage?! I brought in 150 million in sales, and the company can’t even give me a proper reward. You try to fool me with this? You dismiss me with one dollar? Do you think I’m a beggar?” The crowd looked at the cushion, then at the single coin in my hand. Their expressions grew complex, but some still sided with Linda. Sarah glared at me. “What’s wrong with the cushion? As long as it’s practical, that’s what matters. Linda remembered you have back problems from sitting too long. That kind of thoughtfulness is rare.” “Exactly. Back when we made sales, we didn’t even get a word of praise. The fact that Linda even thinks of you is good enough, yet you’re being so picky.” Linda quickly picked up the cushion from the floor, lovingly dusting it off. She grabbed Sarah’s arm, then looked at me helplessly, her eyes red. “Chloe, it’s all my fault. The company’s budget is tight lately, and the commission for the 150 million hasn’t come through yet. I don’t have much money on hand either. I went to several stores to buy this cushion. It’s my incompetence that made you feel wronged. Next time, when the commission comes in, I’ll definitely get you a better one, okay?” Watching her theatrical performance, I couldn’t help but sneer. The last time I secured a ten-million-dollar contract, the bonus was ten thousand dollars. She told me the exact same thing. I didn’t want to fight with her then, thinking it would be fine if it was distributed among the whole sales department. After all, I didn’t secure the contract entirely on my own. Jessica accompanied me to meet the client, and Michael ran around organizing the materials for me. But I later found out that the ten thousand dollars was never distributed to the sales department. She kept it, claiming it was used for the department’s “public relations expenses.” I didn’t expect her to become even more brazen, trying to pocket a bonus of over a hundred thousand dollars. I scoffed, my gaze piercing her. “Director Linda, you say the sales commission hasn’t come through. But what about the special individual bonus the company awarded? The boss personally promised it. How did it turn into one dollar when it reached you?” Linda’s eyes darted away, her face flushing red as she stammered, “The company has a lot of expenses. You don’t know the cost of running things until you’re the one in charge. As a director, I have to consider everything.” “As for the special bonus you mentioned, it’s still going through the approval process. Chloe, don’t be so impatient. Once it’s approved, I’ll give it to you immediately, okay?” Sarah immediately chimed in, “It’s just a bonus. What’s the big deal if it’s a few days late? Why have you become so mercenary, with only money in your eyes?” Other colleagues echoed her, accusing me of being too profit-driven and ungrateful. Linda wiped a tear and stopped the crowd. “Alright, everyone, stop talking. Chloe is still young. Maybe it’s just because the holidays are approaching, and she needs money. Don’t blame her. It’s all my fault for being an incompetent director. I always want everyone to share the benefits and bring more profit to the sales department. It’s all my fault.” Saying this, she pulled something out of her bag and shoved it at me, smiling. “I apologize, don’t be mad.” “You haven’t eaten anything yet, you must be hungry. I specially bought you these stomach-soothing soda crackers. Eat some to line your stomach, don’t let yourself starve. Whenever your stomach bothers you, don’t I always buy these for you?” Manager Davis and Sarah, hearing this, glared at me indignantly. “Look how good Linda is to you. Even after all this, she’s still thinking about your stomach.” I pinched the box of soda crackers. The box was crushed. I opened it to find the crackers were stale. I took a bite, and it crumbled into dry dust. The production date was from three months ago. I was so angry I laughed. I smashed the crackers hard onto the floor. “Who wants your cheap, fake kindness?! If you truly thought I worked hard, if you truly cared about my health, you would give me the bonus I earned! Stop trying to fool me with this garbage, and stop using your fake favoritism to play the good guy!” Manager Davis immediately lunged forward and slapped me hard across the face. “You little brat, you have no manners whatsoever! I’ll teach you a lesson on behalf of your elders.” “A teacher for a day is a parent for a lifetime. Director Linda cares so much about you. How can you be so ungrateful? How can you break her heart like this?” “Maybe I don’t have good manners, but at least I don’t steal other people’s bonuses! I worked my tail off for three months, and she tries to dismiss me with a bowl of soggy noodles and a single dollar?! Is this the benevolence and loyalty you all talk about?!” Linda cried even harder, leaning into Sarah’s embrace, looking like the victim of a massive injustice. Sarah comforted her while looking at me with deep disappointment. “Chloe, you’re becoming more and more out of line. Linda trained you from scratch. She’s taken care of you in every way for a year. If it weren’t for Linda, could you have signed so many big contracts?” “The resources are Linda’s. The clients sign because they trust the company’s strength. You just ran a few errands, and now you’re making a scene trying to monopolize the bonus.” 3 Manager Davis stood up, his face dark. “There’s no reasoning with her. I think she’s just been spoiled. Today I have to teach her a lesson, show her what it means to respect her mentors and be grateful.” With that, he raised his hand, ready to slap me again. Linda immediately threw herself forward to stop him, crying, “No, no, no, Manager! Chloe made a huge contribution today. Even if she made a mistake, you can’t blame her. It’s all my fault. I didn’t coordinate the department’s relationships well. It has nothing to do with Chloe.” Davis’s hand was held tightly by Linda. He was both angry and exasperated. “Look at the situation, and you’re still protecting her! This ungrateful snake, does she appreciate anything you’ve done?” The colleagues all shook their heads and sighed, murmuring about how I didn’t know how good I had it and was totally ungrateful. “Look how good Linda is to you. If it were anyone else, the manager would have chewed them out and probably kicked them out the door. Would they still protect you?” Linda wiped her tears, smiled with feigned magnanimity, and bent down to pick up the thermos and the soda crackers. “Alright, alright, everyone, let’s stop criticizing Chloe.” “I’ll go make Chloe another bowl of noodles, and buy a nicer gift. Today is Chloe’s victory banquet, we can’t ruin everyone’s mood.” Watching her take the act all the way to the end, I couldn’t bear it anymore. I rushed forward and shoved her hard in the chest, screaming, “Who wants your fake kindness?!” The room fell dead silent. No one expected me to actually lay a hand on Linda. Manager Davis was stunned for three seconds. When he recovered, he grabbed a set of tableware and hurled it at my head. “You ungrateful wretch! I have to cure you of this today. I’m telling you right now, get out of this company immediately. You’re fired.” A sharp pain shot through my forehead, and warm liquid slowly trickled down my cheek. Everyone looked at me in shock, and then the accusations started pouring in again. “Serves her right. So unappreciative.” Linda immediately threw herself at Manager Davis, hugging him and crying, “Manager, let’s talk this out, don’t hit her, don’t hit her, it’s all my fault.” As she looked up, I caught a fleeting glimpse of smugness hidden in her eyes. Seeing that smug expression, I finally laughed. I pulled out my phone, opened a voice recording, and played it. The clear conversation between Linda and Manager Davis filled the room. “I kept Chloe’s 150,000-dollar commission and transferred it to my card. I’ll just give her a dollar and say the company budget is tight. She’s just a greenhorn, she can’t do anything about it.” “Baby, you’re so smart. Doting on her every day, cooking for her, acting so concerned about her bad stomach—making it look like you treat her so well. How could she possibly have the face to demand money from you?” “They’re just new employees. If they dare disobey, I have you, right? We’ll just fire them and tell them to get lost.” … The moment the recording played, the room plunged into a deathly silence. Linda’s face turned pale as paper. Her lips trembled, unable to maintain her aggrieved act any longer. Gripping my phone, I walked toward her step by step. “Linda, your fake favoritism and your scheming end today.” Everyone stared dumbfounded at Linda and Manager Davis. Sarah was frozen in place, her hand, halfway extended to help Linda, suspended in mid-air. Her face was full of disbelief. “Director Linda, did… did you really embezzle our bonuses and commissions?” The other colleagues erupted, the whispers impossible to suppress. The accusations previously aimed at me instantly turned into suspicion toward Linda. “No wonder! When I first arrived, Linda doted on me too, bought me coffee every day, told me to drink green tea. But my bonuses were always inexplicably cut in half.” “Damn it, this is textbook exploitation of newbies! The new hires work themselves to the bone getting orders, she takes all the benefits, and plays the saint so we can’t complain.” “We should suggest the company legal department investigate and see exactly how much of our commission she’s embezzled.”

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Becoming a concert pianist wasn’t just a career choice; it was the rhythm my heart beat to. But on the night of my most critical performance—the showcase that would have cemented my place in the professional world—chaos erupted. A gang of thugs burst into the concert hall, shattering the sanctity of the music. I was nearing the crescendo, my fingers flying across the ivory, when they stormed the stage. They slammed the heavy Steinway lid down. Then, to make sure the damage was permanent, one of them jumped on top of it, stomping with brutal force. My fingers. My life. Crushed into a pulp of bone and blood. A scream tore from my throat, raw and primal. I tried to pull my hands free, but the weight was immovable. Desperate, through a haze of agony, I locked eyes with my wife, Victoria. She was standing near the VIP exit. I expected her to scream, to run to me, to command the security team to open fire if necessary. Instead, I watched, my vision blurring, as she threw her arms out to block the security guards and my friends who were rushing the stage. I found out later that the thugs weren’t there for me. They were looking for Oliver. They had come to break Oliver’s hands to settle a gambling debt. But my wife, the woman I had vowed to love forever, pointed at me and said: “You can’t touch Oliver’s hands. Take the piano player instead. Do whatever you want with him.” In that moment, something vital inside me flatlined. I decided then and there to divorce her. But she would regret it. She would regret it when she eventually broke her childhood sweetheart’s hands herself, weeping and begging for a forgiveness I no longer had to give. … The piano lid came down like a guillotine. The sound wasn’t musical; it was a dull, sickening thud of wood against bone. I shrieked, a sound I didn’t recognize as my own, frantically trying to yank my hands back. But the thug in the heavy boots leaped onto the polished black surface, stomping rhythmically, driving the lid deeper into my flesh. The nerves in my fingertips screamed, sending shockwaves of nausea through my body. Cold sweat drenched my tuxedo. “Stop! Please, God, stop!” I begged. “I don’t even know who you are! Why are you doing this?” The thug looked down at me from his perch on the Steinway, a sneer twisting his face. “Don’t know us? Oliver sent my brother to prison. I came to return the favor, but your wife stopped me. She said you were the payment. Trading a pair of hands for a pair of hands seems fair, doesn’t it, Maestro?” “No… that’s impossible.” I turned my head, fighting the black spots dancing in my vision. There she was. Victoria. She was directing her personal security detail to form a human shield around Oliver, whispering soothing words to him, stroking his back. My mentor, Madame Laurent, tried to rush the stage with the venue security, but Victoria stepped into their path. “Stand down,” she commanded, her voice icy. “This is a family matter. Do not interfere.” I was shaking, and not just from the pain. This was a nightmare. It had to be. Crack. The sound of my knuckles shattering was louder than the screams of the audience. Blood began to drip from the keyboard, pooling on the stage floor. Panic, cold and absolute, washed over me. I will never play again. Stripped of all dignity, I sobbed, screaming out to the woman I had loved for seven years. “Victoria! For the love of God, we’ve been married for three years! Help me! Please!” She glanced at me. Her eyes were empty, devoid of even a flicker of empathy. “It is precisely because you are my husband that I need you to do this for me,” she called out, her voice carrying over the commotion. “You’re disappointing me, Cameron. It’s just a few broken bones. Oliver has done so much for us; consider this you paying back a debt of gratitude.” Her lips, painted a perfect crimson, looked like a wound. The words that fell from them cut deeper than the crushed bones. I couldn’t tell what hurt more—my hands or my heart. Four years of dating. Three years of marriage. Did she not know who I was? Did she not understand that my hands were my soul? Seven years of devotion disintegrated in seconds. The thug on the piano wasn’t done. He started kicking me in the face, grinding his heel into my scalp, trying to jam the toe of his boot into my mouth to silence my whimpering. My hands were pinned; I was defenseless. And my wife stood ten feet away, blind to my torture, her focus entirely on Oliver, who was clutching his chest, feigning a heart attack. Madame Laurent was screaming now, her face purple with rage. “Victoria West! You are his wife! If you won’t save him, how dare you stop us? Look at him! Look at what they’re doing to Cameron! Do you have no conscience?” Victoria shot a look of pure annoyance at my teacher. “Stop being dramatic. It’s a beatdown, not a murder. And Cameron,” she shouted at me, “stop embarrassing me! Can you stop pretending? I bet you’re enjoying seeing your teacher yell at me, aren’t you? I never should have married such a petty, small-minded man.” I was so weak I could barely whisper. My lips trembled as I tried to form words. “I’m not… pretending. My fingers… they’re crushed.” Victoria couldn’t hear me, or chose not to. She frowned, checking her watch. “Man up, Cameron. It’s a piano lid, not a tank. How could that break your hands? Stop playing the victim. It’s pathetic.” My ten fingers were destroyed. A chaotic mess of flesh and splintered bone. And she called it playing the victim. Madame Laurent looked like she might have a stroke. She pointed a shaking finger at Victoria. “Are you insane? That is a concert grand! It weighs nearly a thousand pounds! The lid alone is heavy enough to crush brick, and you have a two-hundred-pound man jumping on it! If we don’t get him to surgery now, he loses his hands forever!” “He is a prodigy! A once-in-a-generation talent! And you are letting them butcher him!” Victoria paused. For a second, doubt flickered in her eyes. Then Oliver let out a theatrical, hacking cough. “I really envy Cameron,” Oliver wheezed, clutching Victoria’s arm. “Having a teacher who cares so much… Victoria, don’t worry about me. Let them kill me. Cameron is a high-and-mighty artist. His hands are precious gold. We can’t let him suffer for a nobody like me.” The hesitation vanished from Victoria’s face. She rubbed Oliver’s back soothingly, then glared at me and Madame Laurent with renewed disgust. “Get the hell out of here,” she hissed at my teacher. “My husband and I don’t need outsiders meddling.” She turned her cold gaze on me. “What ‘high-and-mighty artist’? He’s a trophy husband I keep around. Helping Oliver is the most useful thing he’s ever done. If his fingers are broken, fine. He can stay home and stop flirting with other women at these recitals.” Every word was a serrated blade, sawing through what was left of my heart. I had spent years deluding myself. I told myself her lingering attachment to Oliver was just nostalgia for their youth. I told myself that I was the one she came home to. I was the one she loved. I realized then, with a clarity that was more painful than the physical trauma, that she had never loved me. Her heart was a shrine to Oliver. I wasn’t her husband. I was a placeholder. A dog she fed and expected to heel. The grief hit me so hard I gagged, coughing up a spray of blood. The thug on the piano laughed, clearly entertained by the domestic drama. He gave one final, jubilant jump. Snap. That was the sound of the tendons finally severing. Something inside me went dark. As consciousness slipped away, the last thing I saw was Oliver whispering something into Victoria’s ear. She threw her head back and laughed—a bright, tinkling sound that belonged at a cocktail party, not a torture scene. I closed my eyes. A single tear tracked through the blood on my face. Victoria West. I wasted my life on you. If I could go back, I would pray I never met you. The darkness swirled into a dream. A long, vivid memory from seven years ago. I was at a university recital. I wasn’t as polished back then; I missed a note in the second movement. But when I stood to bow, shaking with adrenaline, I saw a girl in the front row, covering her mouth, tears streaming down her face. Victoria. I thought she understood the music. I thought she heard the soul I was pouring into the keys. She approached me afterward. We exchanged numbers. We fell into a rhythm. I learned she was trying to launch a tech startup, V&O Dynamics, but was hitting wall after wall. Silicon Valley was a boys’ club, and no one wanted to fund her. So, I called my father. We hadn’t spoken since the day my mother died in a car crash—a day he missed because of a board meeting. I had moved out, cut him off, and changed my name to pursue music without his shadow. Victoria didn’t know my father was Arthur St. James, the CEO of Horizon Capital. She was proud, almost brittle in her independence, so I never told her. I just asked my dad for a favor. He wired twenty million dollars to her company the next day, no questions asked, trying to buy back my affection. Victoria’s company skyrocketed. And in the glow of her success, she proposed to me. I remember standing by the piano in her loft. She held out a ring, her eyes shining. “Cameron, will you play Für Elise for me for the rest of our lives?” I was ecstatic. “Yes. A thousand times yes.” We married. I wanted to help with the business, to be a partner in every sense. But she shut me down. She told me my job was to play. To keep the music alive for her. I loved her even more for that. A wife who protected my dream? It felt like a miracle. Even when she worked eighty-hour weeks, she would make me play Für Elise once a week. She would lie with her head in my lap and weep silently. I thought it was release. I thought it was intimacy. Then Oliver Tate came back. He joined her company as General Counsel. Suddenly, everything shifted. She stopped asking for the piano. She stopped coming home. She took Oliver to galas, introducing him as the brilliant legal mind behind her success, the “co-founder in spirit.” My father sent me videos of them at these parties—whispering in corners, touching arms. He asked me what the hell was going on. I looked at the screen, at the soft, vulnerable expression on her face—a look she never gave me—and I made excuses. She’s just grateful, I told myself. He’s helping the company. So I practiced. I poured my loneliness into the keys. I thought if I reached the pinnacle, if I stood on the biggest stage, she would finally see me again. And she did come. She was there in the audience on the most important night of my life. But she didn’t come to watch me fly. She came to clip my wings. I woke up screaming. The silence of the hospital room swallowed the sound. I was alone. Pathetically, a small part of me had hoped to see Victoria in the chair beside the bed. Right, I thought, a bitter laugh bubbling up. I’m just the dog. I looked down. My arms were encased in heavy plaster casts from fingertips to elbows. They felt foreign. Dead. I buzzed for the nurse and demanded a forensic injury assessment. Then I asked her to call my father. He was in London closing a deal, but he sent his personal assistant and the sharkiest lawyer in the city, Harrison Ford (no relation, though just as dramatic). He promised to fly back immediately. I told him not to come yet. Just the lawyer. Harrison moved fast. Within hours, the police report was filed. He told me, his voice grim but confident, “We’ll bury the thug. Assault with intent to maim. And Oliver Tate? He solicited the violence. His law license is toast. And your wife… obstructing emergency services? She’s an accessory.” “Don’t touch my wife…” I started, out of habit. The door banged open. Victoria stormed in, Oliver trailing behind her like a lost puppy. “Cameron! Are you out of your mind?” She threw her purse onto the chair. “The police just called. You filed charges? Do you have any idea what kind of PR nightmare this is for the company? For Oliver?” She didn’t even look at my casts. Not a glance. I sighed, lifting my heavy, useless arms. I wanted to test her one last time. “Victoria,” I said, my voice cracking. “The doctors say I’ll never play again. I can’t play Für Elise for you anymore.” I admit it. I was weak. I wanted to see if there was a human being left inside the CEO. If she showed one ounce of regret, one spark of horror at what she had cost me… maybe I could forgive. I would give up the piano. I would be the husband she wanted. She rolled her eyes. “It’s just a pair of hands, Cameron. It’s not like you’re dying.” She crossed her arms. “Grow up. You’re a grown man, still obsessed with plinking away on a toy. And because of that stupid piano, you’re going to ruin Oliver’s career? You are vicious.” Oliver stepped forward, gazing at Victoria with wet, adoring eyes. “You remembered,” he whispered. “Our song. You remembered.” “Of course I remember,” Victoria said softy. ” I could never forget.” I froze. Our song. The pieces slammed together in my mind. The weekly requests. The tears in her lap. Für Elise wasn’t about me. It wasn’t our song. I was just the jukebox playing the soundtrack to her memories of him. I was a proxy. A ghost. “Liar,” I whispered. Then louder. “Liars.” Victoria looked annoyed. She smoothed her blazer, trying to cover her guilt with aggression. “Don’t look at me like that. I don’t owe you anything. Look, just because I don’t need you to play anymore doesn’t mean I’m kicking you out. I’ve supported you for years; I don’t mind keeping you on the payroll as a house husband.” “Drop the charges. Right now. And I’ll pretend this tantrum never happened.” I actually laughed. It hurt my ribs. “So I should thank you? Should I get on my knees and praise your generosity after you let them cripple me?” She missed the sarcasm entirely. “You don’t need to thank me. Thank Oliver. He’s the reason the company exists.” “Drop the lawsuit. Then apologize to Oliver for the stress you’ve caused him. Do that, and you can come home.” “Heh.” I gave her a smile that felt like a skull grinning. “I understand. You can go.” “You understand, but you’re not kneeling?” I stared at her, my eyes cold and dead. Sensing the shift in the atmosphere, Oliver stepped in, putting on his ‘nice guy’ mask. He tugged at Victoria’s sleeve. “Let it go, Victoria. Cameron is a big star. He has too much pride to apologize to someone like me.” He was pouring salt in the wound, and he knew it. “Pride?” Victoria scoffed. “What does he have to be proud of? He’s a parasite. A tick I let live on my back.” She turned on me. “Cameron St. James. Kneel. Apologize to Oliver. Or I divorce you. I will strip you of every asset. You will walk out of this marriage with nothing but the clothes on your back.” She looked triumphant. She was sure I would fold. I remembered the last time. She had brought Oliver over for dinner. I spent all day cooking. Oliver took one bite of the asparagus and feigned an allergic reaction—choking, gasping. Victoria destroyed the dining room. She smashed every plate. Then she dragged me to the ER and made me kneel by Oliver’s bed to beg for forgiveness. I saw Oliver smirk that day. A little wink that said, I win. I knelt that day because I loved her. Because I was desperate. But the man who knelt was gone. He died on the piano bench. I met her gaze. “Fine. Divorce. Tomorrow? No. Let’s do it right now.”

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Because I made his “golden girl” take a cold shower, Gary locked me in a industrial deep freezer and turned the bolt. “Sasha caught a cold because of you. It’s only fair you feel a bit of her chills,” he said, his voice as cold as the frost already forming on the stainless steel. I clawed at the heavy lid, screaming until my throat was raw, but all I could see through the gap was Sasha’s face. She wasn’t shivering. She was smiling. Her lips moved, though I could barely hear her over the hum of the compressor. “Gary worries about me so much, Elena. I’d love to help you, but I just can’t go against his wishes. You’ll just have to tough this one out.” She reached down and dialed the temperature to its lowest setting. Then, she draped a heavy industrial dust cover over the unit, snuffing out the last sliver of light. When Gary finally returned from their “honeymoon,” he decided to be merciful. He came to the basement to let me out. “I’ll let you go this once,” he called out, his tone bored, as if he were scolding a pet. “Let’s see if you’ve learned your lesson about targeting Sasha.” I hadn’t learned a thing. I couldn’t. I was a solid block of ice, and the moment the air hit me, I didn’t breathe—I just shattered. … Twelve days after my heart stopped, Gary finally brought Sasha home. They had gone to Antarctica on a whim to see the Aurora Australis. He called it the ultimate romantic gesture. Sasha was wrapped in layers of cashmere, still shivering as if the polar wind had settled in her bones. Gary hovered over her, his face a mask of devotion. “You’ve always been fragile, Sasha. You shouldn’t have pushed yourself to go to the South Pole. It kills me to see you like this.” “Achoo!” Sasha let out a dainty, rehearsed sneeze and burrowed into his chest. “I’m fine, Gary. Really. I’m stronger than I look.” Gary pinched her nose playfully. “Stop lying. Have you forgotten the last time you took a cold shower? You ran a fever for days.” Half a month ago, I supposedly turned off the water heater while Sasha was bathing. She claimed she was forced to finish in ice-cold water, resulting in a 104-degree fever that nearly “killed” her. At the memory, Gary’s eyes darkened. The tenderness he held for Sasha curdled into a sharp, jagged annoyance for me. He turned to his assistant, who was busy hauling their designer luggage into the foyer. “Sasha is staying here tonight. Go find that woman and tell her to keep her mouth shut. I don’t want any of her pathetic drama tonight.” The assistant, who had been dragged along on the trip, paused. He looked confused, then pale. “Mr. Sterling… I mean, sir… the mistress… I think she’s still in the freezer where you left her.” Sasha jumped off the sofa, her hand flying to her mouth in a gasp that was far too theatrical. “It’s been that many days? Oh my god, Gary, she’s not… dead, is she?” For a fleeting second, a flicker of uncertainty crossed Gary’s face. But then he saw Sasha’s “worried” expression and he let out a harsh, dry laugh. “Elena? Dead? Please. She’s too manipulative for that. She probably picked the lock and went to a hotel the second we left, just so she could play the victim when I got back.” Is that right, Gary? I looked down at my translucent self, floating aimlessly in the foyer. I wanted to laugh, but ghosts don’t have breath. If he hadn’t used heavy-duty chains to seal that freezer, maybe I would have found a way. I wanted to live. I really did. But Gary had wanted to humiliate me. He had taken the entire household staff on the trip, leaving the mansion a silent tomb. “Elena,” he had whispered through the steel that night, “I want you to understand exactly where you rank. You are lower than the help. Stay in there and think about why you’ll never be Sasha.” It’s funny, really. Without a soul in the house to hear me, how was I supposed to get out? They forgot about the “incident” almost immediately, melting into each other on the velvet sofa. It wasn’t until the assistant ran back upstairs, his face ghost-white, that my name was mentioned again. “Sir… Elena… she’s gone. She’s not in her room. All her things are still here, but she’s nowhere to be found.” Gary waved a hand dismissively. “She’s waiting for me to go looking for her like a fool. Well, let her wait. If she doesn’t want to come home, she can stay on the streets. Give her room to Sasha. Throw Elena’s junk away.” Sasha pouted, tracing a circle on Gary’s chest. “I don’t want her old things, Gary. I want everything new.” Gary kissed her forehead. “Anything for you, baby. You’re the only thing that matters.” Sasha didn’t waste a beat. She sprinted into my bedroom and began smashing my perfume bottles against the wall. “I’ve hated this room for years! Trash it all! I want it stripped to the floorboards!” I followed them, though it was a struggle. My “body” felt heavy, as if the cold had seeped into my very essence. Every step felt like my joints were grinding into dust. At first, I panicked, trying to “pick up” the metaphorical pieces of myself I felt I was leaving behind. But then it hit me: I was already dead. I was just a lingering thought. What use did a ghost have for bones? “Gary,” Sasha called out from my bed, “if I ever ran away, would you come find me?” “In a heartbeat. But you aren’t Elena. She’s a liar, Sasha. You don’t have a deceptive bone in your body.” I leaned against the doorframe, watching them. Sasha reached into her pocket and pulled out a plastic stick with a triumphant flourish. “Since you love me so much… I have a surprise. I’m pregnant.” I straightened up, drifting closer. That pregnancy test looked hauntingly familiar. It was mine. The one I had taken the morning Gary locked me away. There was even a tiny, dried speck of blood on the edge of the plastic where I’d snagged my finger on the packaging. Sasha hadn’t even bothered to wipe it off. But Gary didn’t see the blood. He only saw a miracle. He let out a primal shout of joy and swept her into his arms. “A baby? You’re carrying my child? Sasha, you are the greatest thing that ever happened to me!” He laid her down on my bed as if she were made of fine porcelain. He tucked the duvet around her, his voice thick with emotion. “I shouldn’t have taken you to Antarctica. I could have hurt the baby. I’m so sorry.” “It’s okay, Gary. This baby is a fighter. Just like his father.” I couldn’t watch anymore. I turned away, drifting back toward the basement. I was just a pawn in a corporate marriage. He never loved me. I knew that. I had loved him for a decade, but his eyes were always wandering—from a revolving door of secretaries to his high school sweetheart, Sasha, who had finally come back to claim her throne. I was used to being invisible. But I had stayed. My grandmother was in the hospital, and Gary’s money was the only thing keeping her alive. At the thought of her, my non-existent heart ached. Does she know I’m gone? She’s so sick now; she forgets my name sometimes. Maybe it’s better if she doesn’t realize I’m never coming back. I drifted down into the darkness of the cellar. To the place where I had spent my final hours. The freezer was still there. The industrial plastic cover was stuck to the floor, fused by a dark, frozen liquid that had leaked out of the drainage valve. Gary had called in eight security guards to lift me like a piece of livestock and dump me into that box. He had shut the lid himself. My hands and feet had been zip-tied, a rag stuffed in my mouth. “Elena, you targeted Sasha out of pure spite. Are you ready to admit you were wrong?” I had shaken my head violently, my eyes red and pleading, slamming my elbows against the sides. Gary’s face had twisted in disgust. “Then stay here. Call me when you’re ready to apologize.” Sasha had stood behind him, her voice trembling with fake fear. “Gary, I’m scared she’ll try to hurt me again tonight. I don’t think I can sleep here.” Gary had looked at her with such tenderness it made me want to retch. He ordered the guards to bring in heavy chains. They wrapped them around the freezer four times, padlocking it as if they were containing a monster. “She won’t get out of there if she tries for a hundred years. You’re safe now, Sasha. I’ll let her out tomorrow after you leave for the airport.” That night, they threw a party upstairs. A “bon voyage” celebration. I could hear the muffled thumping of the bass, the laughter of people who didn’t know a woman was suffocating and freezing ten feet beneath their floor. In a final, desperate burst of adrenaline, I managed to throw my weight against the side, tipping the freezer over. It hit the concrete floor with a deafening thud. The music stopped. A minute later, Gary’s voice boomed over the basement intercom. “Elena, enough! You’re pathetic. Do you really think throwing a tantrum is going to make me pity you?” “You knew Sasha couldn’t handle the cold. Did you think of her when you shut off that heater?” “She has a fever of 104! Do you even have a soul? If anything happens to her, you’re a murderer!” “Reflect on that. You stay in there until her fever breaks.” He never came down. He never saw that the freezer had been accidentally (or intentionally) set to “Flash Freeze.” He didn’t see the scratches on the inside of the lid where my fingernails had snapped off. My hands and feet had gone numb hours ago. The blood from my torn nails had frozen instantly. I tried to make a sound, any sound. I’m sorry. I’ll do anything. Please. I don’t want to die. But Gary wasn’t listening. He had turned off the intercom and gone to bed to cuddle his “golden girl.” The next morning, Sasha’s fever “miraculously” broke. She insisted they leave for their trip early to celebrate. By then, I couldn’t move. I spent my last moments thinking of my grandmother, forcing my eyelids to stay open just one more second, one more second… No one noticed I was gone. They packed their bags and flew to the edge of the world. Before he left, Gary’s voice came over the intercom one last time. “We’re leaving for Antarctica. Enjoy the silence, Elena. You’ve earned it.” “Do you see now? You’re nothing to me. Don’t ever try to compete with Sasha again.” I don’t remember the exact moment I died. I just know I held on for a very, very long time. The blood on the plastic cover had attracted flies. The sound of their wings was the only thing I could hear. When the cleaning crew finally returned today, the smell in the basement made them gag. It wasn’t that bad, really. I was frozen solid. Only the blood had a scent. One of the cleaners tried to lift the plastic cover, but it was glued down by the dark sludge at the base. “This unit is definitely shot. Whatever meat was in here has gone rancid.” “Don’t bother with it. Mr. Sterling said he was replacing the whole basement setup anyway. Just haul the whole thing to the junkyard.” The cleaner called Gary to confirm. The intercom crackled to life again. “If it’s broken, trash it! Why are you calling me about a freezer? If the meat spoiled, it’s because you people are incompetent. You’re all fired. Don’t show up tomorrow.” Gary’s voice was jagged with irritation, followed by Sasha’s soft, cooing voice in the background. Gary… do you really not remember? Are you that far gone? As if answering me, Gary spoke again. “It was probably just Elena being spiteful again, leaving a mess for me to find. Just get it out of the house. Then make some bone broth for Sasha. She needs to keep her strength up for the baby.” He paused. “And tell the security team to look for Elena. She’s probably hiding out somewhere, waiting to cause more trouble. I’m sick of her games.” I stared at the intercom. For a second, I wanted to shatter it. Gary, if you’re not going to use your brain, you should donate it to science. How could you think I escaped? Or is it just that in your heart, my life—and my death—don’t even warrant a second thought? I continued to drift through the house, waiting for the moment they realized. Gary said I had to suffer like Sasha. Well, I’m dead, and she’s being treated like a queen. That doesn’t seem fair, does it? I’ll wait. I’ll wait until Sasha joins me. Poor, stupid Gary. He really thinks that child is his. He’s playing nursemaid, doting on a ghost of a pregnancy. Go ahead, Gary. Love her. The more it hurts now, the deeper the hole will be when you fall. I wonder… when you find out that pregnancy test was mine… will you still be this happy? Or will you just be relieved that I’m gone? A few hours later, I was sitting on the edge of their bed, watching them. Gary’s phone buzzed. It was my grandmother. She didn’t quite understand how to use the phone anymore. “Hello? Hello?” she chirped into the line. Gary groaned. “You old bat. If you’re looking for your granddaughter, find her yourself. Stop calling me.” Luckily, she didn’t seem to hear him. “Gary? Is that you? Where’s my Elena? She hasn’t visited in so long. Is she working?” My chest tightened. Nana… why do you have to remember me now? When I was alive, you barely knew who I was. Gary’s voice was like a whip. “Listen to me. Tell Elena that if she wants to be part of this family, she needs to come home and apologize to Sasha. Tell her to stop using you to play these pathetic games. I’m not a fool.” Nana’s voice sharpened with sudden, lucid panic. “Give her back! Give me my Elena! What have you done to her?!” Gary hung up and immediately blocked her number. I screamed, though no sound came out. How could he block her? Since the fire that destroyed our family, Nana had been lost in the fog of dementia. Gary and I were the only two numbers she knew by heart. Now, she couldn’t reach me, and she was blocked by him. She was all alone. And to think, when we were kids, Nana treated Gary like her own grandson. The phone rang again. A different number. Gary picked up, ready to scream. “I told you to stop—” “Is this Mr. Gary Sterling?” a man’s voice interrupted. He sounded official. Deep. “We’re calling regarding an industrial freezer unit disposed of earlier today. We found human remains inside. We need you to come down for questioning immediately.” Gary froze. “What?” “There is a body, sir. A female. It’s… it’s a horrific scene. Do you have any knowledge of this?” “The victim has been identified as Elena Sterling. Your wife.” Is it finally happening, Gary? I felt a surge of cold anticipation. Gary let out a sharp, jagged laugh. His eyes flashed with a familiar rage. “Elena, you’re really going all out, aren’t you? Faking a police call? This is a new low, even for a bankrupt socialite. This is your last warning—get home and apologize to Sasha, or I’m filing for divorce tomorrow!” He slammed the phone onto the floor and ground his heel into the screen until it was a web of shattered glass. Sasha let out a whimper. “Gary… oh, Gary… my stomach… it hurts…” I crossed my arms and sneered. She was using my test. I was the one who was pregnant. She’s just a liar with a good script. She knows I’m dead, and she’s just buying time to keep him from the truth. “Call Dr. Miller,” she gasped. “The baby… save the baby…” Dr. Miller? Oh, right. Sasha’s “old friend” she’d been seeing since she got back to town.

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Liam Sterling had double standards. A hot, sexy beauty twisted her waist to hit on him. He didn’t even look up. “If you have an itch, go take a shower.” Three days without washing my hair, I ran into him downstairs. Before I could even open my mouth, Liam swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Seducing me again?” “I’m free tonight. Your place or mine?” 1 My best friend and college roommate, Mark Davis, invited me out for his birthday. I thought it was just going to be the two of us, but he took a call halfway through. “Oh, man, my childhood friends are throwing me a birthday party tonight too.” Mark came from a good background; he was a trust fund kid. His childhood friends were naturally all rich kids and socialites. They were from a different world than me. I felt a bit awkward. “I’ll just head out, then.” “Don’t be like that. We’re all bros, let’s hang out together. They’re good guys.” “And they’re not homophobic, don’t worry.” “Wait here for a sec, I’ll go meet them at the door. My buddy Liam Sterling is coming too.” “Alright.” I had to sit back down. Mark got up, in high spirits, but as he was walking out the door of the private room, he suddenly turned around with a teasing look on his face. “Oh right, I ordered a premium male model for you, my little gay friend, to feed you fruit. He’s got that aloof, god-tier vibe. Costs a thousand bucks a night.” “He’ll be here soon. You can enjoy yourself for a bit, hehe. Be bold.” “…” I’m a gay guy who just coasts through life. Mark was afraid I’d end up alone forever, so he’s actually introduced me to quite a few handsome guys. Unfortunately, none of them were a good fit. So I didn’t refuse his good intentions. A few minutes after Mark left, the door to the private room was suddenly pushed open. I looked up and froze. The guy who walked in was top-tier. Relaxed brows, broad shoulders, a strong back, tall with long legs. Paired with the mandatory black shirt for male models and a diamond-studded silver chain, he was devastatingly handsome. I sighed inwardly. A thousand bucks a night for a premium male model really is a feast for the eyes. 2 The male model looked down at me, casually asking in a flat voice: “Mark Davis’s room?” Mark Davis was the name of my college roommate. I nodded, “Yes.” “Hmm.” He gave a slight nod and headed to sit at the other end of the sofa. “Wait a minute.” I called out to the handsome male model. He lifted his eyelids. “What’s wrong?” I awkwardly patted the seat next to me. “You should sit next to me.” “?” The male model looked at me, seemingly puzzled. I explained gently: “There’s going to be a lot of people later. You’ll feel uncomfortable sitting over there.” Even though Mark said his childhood friends weren’t homophobic, it was probably just a polite pleasantry. Maybe they’d feel uncomfortable sitting next to a gay guy. It would be a sin if the handsome male model who worked so hard got complaints. “…” At this, the male model’s expression became unreadable. He looked me up and down, raising an eyebrow. “Alright.” After the guy sat down next to me, he didn’t initiate conversation. He just sat there, eating from the fruit platter and looking down at his phone. His profile was sharp, exuding a natural sense of detachment. I got it. This was the aloof, god-tier vibe. But Mark had already paid for it; he had to do his job. For example, instead of just eating by himself, he should feed me a few bites of fruit first. I carefully poked his arm. “Um, I want to eat some too.” The male model paused and pushed the fruit platter towards me. “Sorry.” “…” I didn’t move; I just stared at his hand. He narrowed his eyes: “What, you expect me to feed you?” I nodded sheepishly, “Yeah… can you?” At least let me experience this luxurious service while there weren’t many people around. I wouldn’t have the guts to ask once the room filled up. The male model’s look instantly became meaningful, as if looking at some clumsy pick-up tactic. Then, he let out a short breath that sounded like a laugh. “You’re definitely different from the other proactive ones. You’re Mark Davis’s friend?” “Yeah, his college roommate.” “What’s your name?” “Julian.” I was a bit confused. Do male models nowadays check their clients’ IDs? “Did he tell you who I am?” “He did.” “What did he say?” I answered seriously: “He said you’re—” Before I could say the four words “premium male model,” the door to the private room was noisily pushed open. Mark walked in with a group of people. Suddenly, Mark stared in my direction and said in surprise: “Liam, I was waiting for you outside! Why did you come into the room early?!” Then I heard the male model next to me say lazily: “It was noisy outside, so I came in first to have some fruit.” “Getting to know your friend early.” “He’s pretty interesting.” … I looked at Mark, then at the man, feeling like a total idiot. My brain felt like it had been kicked by a donkey. 3 The birthday party afterward was loud as hell. Only two people weren’t active. One was Liam Sterling. He didn’t seem interested in the drinking games, lazily leaning back on the sofa the whole time. And those rich kids seemed to implicitly defer to him. Even when joking around, they used a respectful tone. The second was me. I kept my head down the whole time, not saying a word. If there was a crack in the floor, I probably would have crawled into it. I completely didn’t dare to look to my left. Mark was even curious why I was acting so autistic, not even eating the fruit the premium male model fed me. He whispered to me: “What’s up, man? Intimidated by my buddy Liam’s aura? Or did he give you a hard time when he came in?” I shook my head, “No.” “Then what exactly happened?” “Sigh, it went like this…” I leaned into Mark’s ear and whispered the misunderstanding about confusing him for a male model. After hearing it, Mark wanted to laugh but couldn’t. Holding it in was very difficult. I gritted my teeth and said: “Stop laughing. Should I apologize right now?” “I don’t think you need to.” “Why?” “If you apologize, Liam will immediately know that you mistook him for a premium male model. He’s a straight guy; it might actually upset him.” “But if you don’t apologize and just gloss over it, he’ll just think you were trying to suck up to him.” “The first option will get you remembered, and he could easily take revenge and make your life miserable with the snap of his fingers. The second option just costs you a little face. Which do you choose?” I’m not stupid. I chose the second option without hesitation. Besides, as a gay guy, I shouldn’t provoke straight guys’ disgust. Mark patted my shoulder. “Don’t worry. He’s got a lot on his plate every day; he won’t remember small stuff like this.” “That’s good.” Mark’s words made me sigh in relief. I also felt in the mood to join the games, trying hard to ignore the man named Liam Sterling and lower my presence in front of him. But what you fear most is what happens. 4 After a few rounds of drinks, Mark proposed a new game for today’s birthday boy. Hidden tasks. Except for Liam, who wasn’t participating, everyone drew a hidden task. It had to be completed before the birthday party ended. Whoever failed had to foot the bill for the entire night. I glanced at the table full of expensive imported liquor that could probably equal my salary for years, then looked down at the hidden task card in my hand. A faint feeling of impending doom washed over me. Sigh. I’ve stumbled into the wrong crowd. [Get the WeChat of the person to your left.] My left. Was exactly Liam Sterling. Clutching my phone, I cautiously stole a glance to my left. Liam, who had been looking down at his phone, suddenly looked up, “What?” “N-nothing.” I guilty turned my head back. A seemingly peaceful coexistence. After a while, I stole another glance at Liam, hesitating to speak. He asked again: “Something on your mind?” “No.” I denied it again. Another peaceful coexistence. But Liam seemed to let out a scoff. My spine instantly stiffened like a bowstring. How could I ask for his WeChat in a way that seemed normal and wouldn’t draw too much attention? During the third stealthy glance, my face flushed due to nervousness and anxiety. Red and flushed. Unexpectedly, this stealthy glance met Liam’s gaze head-on. I don’t know when he started observing me. He glanced at my flickering eyes and flushed face, raising an eyebrow: “If you want to add me on WeChat, just say so.” ! Wow. He actually figured out my task. I quickly brought up my QR code, saying softly: “Um… is it okay?” “Sure, but next time you hit on me, you can be more direct.” ? I was a bit confused. Who was hitting on him? However, my hidden task was successfully completed, so I didn’t have to pay for the drinks. 5 After adding Liam on WeChat, I didn’t dare bother the rich kid, much less delete him. I let him lie dormant in my contacts list. The day after Mark’s birthday, I happened to have a day off from work. My niece, who was in elementary school, came over to play. As soon as the kid arrived, she wanted to play with my phone. After handing it to her, I went to the kitchen to cook. “Uncle Julian, I want to play Candy Crush.” “Okay, I have it on my phone. You can play it.” “Uncle Julian, why doesn’t your WeChat have auto-like? It’s not cool at all.” Thinking “auto-like” was some new game, I didn’t even look up, smiling as I said: “If you want it, just download it yourself.” “Okay~” My little niece happily went back to playing with the phone. After she left, I didn’t touch the mess of games she downloaded, so she could continue playing next time she came. A week passed, two weeks passed… One day, when Mark asked me out for dinner, he suddenly expressed concern: “Julian, do you have a lot of free time lately?” “No, I’m pretty busy.” “Then how come every time I post a Moment, you’re the first to like it? Even when I post in the middle of the night, you’re the first to like it. And you like it the second I post it, like you’re specifically staking out my Moments. Anyone who didn’t know better would think you had a crush on me.” “Huh?” I was confused. “No way. I’ve been so busy lately my feet haven’t touched the ground; I don’t even have time to look at Moments. Why would I like something in the middle of the night?” “That’s weird. Did you install one of those ‘auto-like’ plug-ins?” Auto-like? I remembered the thing my little niece mentioned a while ago. Oh. So it wasn’t a game. “Yeah, my niece was playing with my phone and accidentally turned it on. I’ll turn it off right now.” I quickly went into WeChat and turned off the auto-like mini-program. Now, it finally wouldn’t auto-like everyone’s Moments. But two days later, Liam, who had been quietly lying in my contacts list, suddenly sent me four very abstract words. [Playing hard to get?] ? I stared at my phone. Completely bewildered. 6 I didn’t reply. I purely thought the rich kid had messaged the wrong person. But when I met Mark for dinner after work that day, there was an unexpected guest at the table. Liam Sterling. He was dressed casually today. A black short-sleeve shirt and cargo pants, his bone structure sharp, handsome and flamboyant. Like a model stepping out of a poster. Except his face was a bit sour, as if someone had offended him. Even when I greeted him politely, he only responded with a very cold grunt. Mark whispered to me: “He called me and insisted on having dinner with me. You don’t know, even my dad has to sit below him, so I couldn’t refuse. Bro, just bear with it, I’ll treat you to a big meal tomorrow.” “It’s fine, I don’t mind.” Mark was relieved and invited me and Liam to eat. I glanced at the dishes on the table; they were all very expensive, but I was used to being poor and didn’t really like any of them. The only dish I liked, a flaky meat pie, was right in front of Liam. I was a bit hesitant to reach out and grab food right in front of his cold face. At that moment, a flash of inspiration hit me. While Liam was talking to Mark, I quietly stood up a bit and swapped the positions of two dishes. I put the meat pie in front of me and placed the pan-seared sole that was originally in front of me in front of Liam. Liam, who was talking to Mark, paused and glanced at me. His dark eyes were deep, and his straight mouth curved into a smile. Inexplicably, I felt that his long-gloomy expression finally cleared up. That handsome face faintly displayed a few words: [I knew it.] As he picked up a piece of sole, Mark suspiciously whispered in my ear: “Julian, how did you know Liam loves fish?” “I didn’t know. I just wanted to eat that meat pie.” Mark didn’t press further, and I didn’t think much of it either. But overall, Liam’s mood visibly improved. He ate well and even had a few drinks with Mark. I was also satisfied. Yep. We all had a wonderful evening. 7 After dinner, we prepared to go our separate ways. Except we encountered a tricky situation. Both Liam and Mark had been drinking, so naturally they couldn’t drive. Mark was picked up by his family’s driver, while Liam planted himself in the driver’s seat of his luxury car. I was shocked. Recently, there had been no shortage of social news about drunk drivers getting into accidents, and the friends who dined with them having to pay compensation. That wouldn’t do. My current financial situation absolutely couldn’t handle any compensation! Ignoring the difference between straight and gay, I hurriedly rushed over and grabbed his car door. “L-Liam, are you heading home?” “What is it?” “Let me drive you. I have a license and I can drive. It’s not safe for you to drive alone after drinking.” “…” Liam, who originally just wanted to sit and rest while waiting for his driver, stared at me. His eyes were full of emotions I couldn’t read, like teasing, and a bit of helpless indulgence. “Then I’ll give you a chance.” “?” Why did it sound like he was doing me a favor? I was clearly trying to save his life. I couldn’t understand the thought process of these rich kids. After helping him out of the driver’s seat, placing him in the back, and buckling his seatbelt, I returned to the driver’s seat. Liam was driving a G-Wagon today. It was my first time getting my hands on a seven-figure luxury car. Even with my usually mild personality, my inner poor kid couldn’t help but get a little excited. Ah! What man alive doesn’t want a G-Wagon! I tried to take deep breaths and stay calm. In the back seat, Liam, with his eyes half-closed, suddenly let out a very light chuckle, his voice a bit raspy. “Julian, you seem very excited.” “N-no.” “Really?” “Yeah. Um… Liam, what’s your home address?” “You don’t know?” I was bewildered. Was I supposed to know? “I don’t know.” Liam let out another inexplicable chuckle. “Forest View Mansion. I posted the location on my Moments.” I, a bumpkin, scratched my face in embarrassment. I see. The top-tier wealthy neighborhood in the city. He flexed it on his Moments. But unfortunately, I was too busy to look at Moments, so I didn’t get to experience his pride. My bad.

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After I confessed my secret of being intersex to my online boyfriend, he got even more excited: “Baby, when we meet, can I kiss you?” My face flushed hot, and I gave him permission. But right before our meetup, he complained about how hard it was to get along with his new roommate. At that exact moment, my new roommate’s phone buzzed. 1 “Baby, your voice sounds so good.” “Why would I be disgusted by you? Knowing that makes me even more excited.” “Baby, I want to see you so badly. I want to hold you, kiss you.” “……” At night, I was re-listening to the voice messages Z had sent me. His deep, husky voice slid through my earbuds like a lover’s whisper, making my whole body run hot. Having this kind of body is really too much trouble. When I carefully confessed my intersex secret to my online boyfriend, Z, I was terrified he would find me disgusting. But Z seemed to sense my anxiety, coaxing me gently: “How could I? Baby, I like you even more now.” After that, he’d randomly send me sweet talk. Making me restless and terribly thirsty. Unfortunately, Z went off to college, and reportedly his new roommate was a real piece of work, so it wasn’t convenient for him to send voice memos lately. I could only listen to the stash I had saved up. Fighting the restless urges, I tossed and turned again. Suddenly, someone knocked on the edge of my bed frame, scaring me half to death. Lifting the bed curtain, a tall silhouette stood below, his tone dripping with annoyed impatience: “Liam, are you done tossing and turning? Do you have any idea how loud you are?” It was Julian again. Julian was a neat freak, a light sleeper, and had a venomous tongue. Just hearing his voice annoyed me, so I instinctively snapped back. “Mind your own business. If it’s too loud, wear earplugs.” “Our beds are connected. Are you stupid?” Meaning, earplugs wouldn’t block out the vibrations of my tossing. Fair point. But I was still annoyed and was just about to keep arguing with him. I didn’t expect Julian to literally climb up. With his knees separated by the blanket, he half-knelt between my legs. His tall frame pressed down, caging me in on both sides with an intense, oppressive presence. I instinctively shrank back: “What are you doing?” 2 He didn’t speak. Suddenly, he grabbed my wrists with a firm, strong grip. My heart skipped a beat. No way. I just tossed and turned a bit. Is he really going to climb into my bed and beat me up? I was just about to struggle when he yanked my earbuds out and tossed them to the head of the bed. My phone received the exact same treatment. He bundled me up tightly in the blanket, his large frame still pressing down on top of me. “Liam, I’m watching you. Go to sleep right now.” I tried to move but found I was completely immobilized. Psycho. I was absolutely furious: “I’ll sleep, okay?! You’re so annoying! Go back to your own bed!” But in the dark, he didn’t reply. He just kept staring at me. I had no options left. He didn’t go back until I finally closed my eyes. My heated mood felt like a bucket of cold water had been dumped on it. Julian completely ruined my good mood. Damn it. Back when I had this double dorm all to myself, I didn’t realize how much freedom I had. I could voice chat with Z whenever I wanted. If I got restless in the middle of the night, I could just go take a shower and change into dry pants. But now, Julian was here. All of that was gone. Julian insisted on lights out by 11:30 PM sharp, and he was a light sleeper. Any little noise I made, he’d scold me. He was also a massive neat freak. If I threw dirty white socks into my own laundry basket and left them for more than half a day, he’d complain. It was incredibly annoying. I’d thought about fighting him. But he was almost 6’2″, a full half-head taller than me. Plus, he religiously went for a morning run at 7:00 AM and hit the gym to lift weights every night. The other day, I barely threw a punch before Julian easily pinned me by the neck against the closet door, asking: “Do you submit?” I really couldn’t out-argue him, and I definitely couldn’t out-fight him. I just had to take the L. But the resentment in my chest refused to fade. The next day, when Julian’s 7:00 AM alarm woke me up yet again, I opened my eyes. Unable to take it anymore, I grabbed my phone to vent to Z: [I really can’t stand my neat-freak, venomous roommate anymore. How can such an annoying roommate exist in this world? [o(╥﹏╥)o] He replied almost instantly. With a cute hugging sticker. [Pat pat, baby] [I agree, how can such an annoying roommate exist in this world?] I sent a sticker back: [Burying my face in your chest (Ծ‸Ծ)] [Z, is your roommate really annoying too?] He replied instantly. [Yeah.] [He’s very loud, and he’s not very clean.] 3 We were practically trauma bonding! Chatting away, I excitedly sat up to type. I casually typed out a few-hundred-word essay complaining about Julian. After I hit send, I worried I might be too annoying. But Z’s reply showed zero impatience. Not only did he provide immense emotional support, he also transferred me $520. I expertly accepted it, even though I wasn’t short on money. Z was very wealthy. When we first met playing games, he was always gifting me rare skins and items. After we started dating, he’d just send me money all the time. At first, I wouldn’t accept it, but he’d send a pitiful voice memo: “Baby won’t even spend my money… Do you not love me anymore…?” My heart would melt hearing that, and I’d accept it immediately. Now, after being thoroughly comforted by Z, the frustration in my chest was greatly soothed. A smile finally returned to my face: [Love you, ლ(°◕‵ƹ′◕ლ).] Z replied quickly. [（づ￣3￣）づ╭❤～] Ending the chat, I casually looked up, and my eyes met Julian, who was just about to walk out the door. He dropped his smile, quickly looked away, his expression turning cold. The upward curve of my lips instantly vanished too. Tsk, that deadpan face again. Just looking at it annoyed me. Honestly, we weren’t at each other’s throats when we first met. I’m a sucker for good looks, and Julian is handsome. Deep-set eyes beneath thick brows, a high-bridged nose, and thin, slightly pursed lips. The first time he introduced himself as my new roommate with that face, I pathetically stared in a daze. Damn. He was exactly my type. But I quickly snapped out of it. After all, I only liked Z. But as we interacted, I realized Julian really only had that face going for him. His personality was venomous and overly particular. With that face, I’d never even seen him smile. Plus, there was that one time in the dining hall. I accidentally overheard him hanging out with his frat bros, discussing intersex people. The jokes they were making were very explicit. “Julian, what do you think? Would you be into that?” I quietly perked my ears up nearby. And I heard Julian’s icy tone: “Stop talking about something so disgusting.” 4 That word, “disgusting,” pierced right into my ears. Even though I’d been called a monster and disgusting by my parents since I was little, I should have been used to it. But hearing Julian say it just pissed me off. It wasn’t like I wanted to date him anyway, yet here he was, acting disgusted. The anger went straight to my head. As I walked past him carrying my lunch tray, I deliberately “lost my grip” and spilled it all over him. The soup dripped down his shoulder. For a neat freak, this was undoubtedly the best revenge. Julian looked up and glared at me, his eyes as cold as if he were looking at a dead man. I took my time flashing a wicked smile: “Oops, sorry about that, new roommate.” After that, our relationship completely deteriorated. Whatever. It wasn’t like I cared about having a good relationship with him anyway. Whenever Julian left the dorm, even the air felt fresher. I was a junior with a light class schedule. I had already applied for grad schools abroad, so I didn’t need to study for the GREs. Laying in the dorm feeling bored, I missed Z again. I tentatively sent him a sticker: [Miss you.] He replied instantly: [Baby, I’m here.] Normally, when interacting with people, I’m not much of a chatterbox. But with Z, I always had a million things to talk about. Z would reply to every single message with infinite patience. No matter what mood I was in, he always knew how to catch me. I sent him a sticker: [Shooting love biubiubiu~] Suddenly, a message popped up from him: [Baby, let’s meet up.] My heart skipped a beat, my grip slipped, and my phone dropped right off the bed. Snapping back, I was just about to climb down and pick it up. The dorm door opened. Julian, with an ice-cold expression, closed the door, locked it, looked down, and saw my lit-up phone screen. The screen was cracked in one corner, but it didn’t affect the clarity of the chat log at all. Me: ! Z’s profile picture was a faceless torso shot of him wearing a black tank top, his muscle definition incredible. Now, with the screen unlocked, Julian definitely saw all the sickeningly sweet messages between me and Z. Damn it. He found out I was e-dating a guy, and he’s definitely going to use this to mock me. But surprisingly, he didn’t make a sound. Julian stared down at the screen, looking like he had been paralyzed. Then he turned his head, his dark eyes staring intensely at me. 5 His stare gave me the creeps: “What the hell are you looking at?!” After climbing down to retrieve my phone, I looked heartbroken at the cracks on the screen, muttering: “So annoying. I just got this new phone. Nothing good ever happens when I see you.” Normally, Julian would definitely snap back. But this time, he didn’t make a peep. I shot him a suspicious look. I realized he was still frozen in place, who knows what he was thinking, but his breathing had grown heavy, and his ears were bright red. Hah, probably pissed off by me. Serves him right. I looked away and typed on my phone: “I dropped my phone just now and cracked the screen. And that psycho roommate just happened to bump into it o(╥﹏╥)o.” Normally, Z would immediately comfort me and join me in cursing Julian. But this time, he didn’t reply for a long time. Z’s request to meet was still hanging there. Was he thinking I didn’t want to meet? I hesitated, typing and deleting, and finally gritted my teeth: [Let’s meet! I want to see you too!] The moment I sent it, I regretted it a little. My heart rate was skyrocketing. Half expectant, half nervous. Even though Z hadn’t shown his face, he had sent quite a few photos over time. Not a single pec or ab was missing, and the occasional close-up of him in grey sweatpants was enough to let the imagination run wild. When Julian called me on voice, he always loved to tease me: “Baby’s so bashful, you can’t even handle this?” Every time I heard him say that sweet talk, I’d blush and run to the bathroom to change my pants. Honestly, my thoughts about him weren’t that pure. Just looking at a photo Z sent of his hand once, I… In the photo, his fingers were long, the knuckles thick and pronounced. They looked incredibly strong. If we actually met, what would happen? Would Z really hug me, kiss me, really use those hands… My face flushed hot, and I quickly shook my head. Suddenly, a message came from him. [If you really don’t want to meet, you don’t have to force yourself. We can just keep chatting online for now.] I stared at that sentence. Why did his tone suddenly feel so formal? Before I could figure out how to reply, Z suddenly sent another transfer—$520. That’s a good chunk of change. I sent a [!?] Z: [Just treat it as compensation for your phone screen.] But buying a screen replacement wouldn’t cost this much. And… why wasn’t he calling me baby anymore? I pursed my lips in annoyance. After that, Z was noticeably much colder. I was incredibly frustrated. Was it because he thought I didn’t want to meet up, so his attitude cooled off? 6 It had been days. Z only sent ‘good morning,’ ‘good afternoon,’ and ‘good night,’ plus a money transfer. When I tried to chat with him, he’d say he was busy, and then attach another transfer. I stared at a screen practically full of $520 transfers, feeling “money-sick” for the first time. Many times, I impulsively wanted to text Z: [Let’s just meet! Right now!] But I hesitated, wanting to send it but not daring to. I was still scared. Z said online that he didn’t mind my intersex body at all, but what if we actually met? Would he also find it disgusting and call me a monster? Just like my parents. Even my own biological parents couldn’t accept me, let alone an online boyfriend. I ultimately didn’t send it. My mood was terrible, plus Julian had been acting like a psycho recently. He was like a lingering ghost; he was everywhere I was. And he loved staring at me, like a dog. My mood got even worse. One day, I walked out of the dining hall, looked back, and realized he was following me again. Unable to take it anymore, I stormed up and grabbed him by the collar: “Why the hell have you been following me lately? You want to fight?” Normally, he’d sneer at me coldly: “Liam, are you a kindergartener? Why are you always trying to fight?” But today, he was unusually quiet. He let me grab his collar, and even shook his head submissively: “I wasn’t.” I’d have to be stupid to believe him. I leaned in closer, narrowing my eyes to see through his bad intentions. But I noticed his ears were red. He turned his head away to avoid my gaze, his Adam’s apple bobbing heavily. That face, usually a deadpan mask all day, showed a different expression for the first time. It looked like… shyness. Damn, what am I thinking. I shook my head, let him go, and warned: “Stay away from me!” 7 But it was like Julian was deliberately trying to do the exact opposite. He stopped his morning runs, and he stopped setting his early alarms. I had a rare chance to wake up naturally. The moment I opened my eyes, a pair of dark eyes was right above me. Julian was sitting cross-legged on my bed, staring at me. His lips curved up, his voice deep and magnetic: “Liam, morning.” That smile actually looked pretty good. I rubbed my eyes. I must be seeing things. My eye twitched, and I looked down, pretending I hadn’t heard him, acting very busy folding my blanket. Annoying people always end up together. For the only group project in my junior year. I somehow ended up in the same group as Julian. During the group discussion, normally he would have constantly contradicted me. But today went surprisingly smooth. No matter what I said, Julian nodded along incredibly supportively. Me: ? After the discussion ended, Julian suddenly offered to buy the whole group drinks. I thought with his personality, he’d probably show off and buy Starbucks or something. But he said he was buying boba. I couldn’t help but swallow, swallowing the words of refusal I was about to say. My favorite! When Julian handed me his phone, I took it, pretending to be aloof. Just as I was about to order a Cocoa Ballet, 70% sugar, double ice cream, sub A2 milk, I realized he had already added that exact order to the cart. It perfectly matched my taste. Julian glanced at me staring blankly at the order screen: “I like this flavor, what about you, Liam?” “I… same here.” Why did this feel wrong somehow? Could it really be such a coincidence? After getting back to the dorm, I finally remembered that the shorts I changed out of this morning were still unwashed, soaking in a basin. I figured Julian was going to complain about it again. But I found they had already been washed and hung up to dry. I was stunned. Above my head came Julian’s low voice: “Oh, the shorts. I washed them while I was at it. Hand-washed, they’re very clean, and… “They smell really good.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “392115”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

After the car crash, my adoptive brother thought I had amnesia. To get rid of me, he pointed at his best friend, Liam Sterling, and played a cruel joke. “This is your boyfriend.” In my past life, I immediately exposed my adoptive brother’s lie and continued to cling to him desperately. My reward? A miserable death in a secret, heavily guarded psychiatric facility where he locked me away. Three years after my death, a severely depressed Liam Sterling slit his wrists at my grave. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the car crash. This time, I walked straight past my brother, opened my arms to Liam, and said, “Husband, hug me.” My adoptive brother accidentally crushed the porcelain mug in his hand. And the man standing in front of me? His eyes instantly turned red as his hoarse voice wrapped around me, pulling me into a desperate embrace. “Okay.” 1 The sharp, sterile scent of bleach stung my nose in the hospital room. My adoptive brother, Caleb Foster, and his best friend, Liam Sterling, stood side by side in front of my bed. I shook my pounding head. For a moment, my mind went blank, the scene before me feeling entirely surreal. “Where am I? Who am I?” Caleb, assuming the crash had wiped my memory, eagerly seized the opportunity. He pointed at the man next to him, a mocking glint in his eyes. “You are my sister, Chloe Foster. And this is your boyfriend, Liam Sterling.” I looked at Liam in absolute shock. The man’s sharp, handsome features were cast downward, tinged with a deep, quiet loneliness. He deliberately avoided my gaze, yet his eyes kept darting back to me, lingering with a heavy, unspoken restraint. He looked exactly as he had in my previous life. 2 In my past life, I had harbored a bitter, one-sided obsession with my adoptive brother for years, clinging to him until he couldn’t stand it anymore. When the car crash happened, he thought I had amnesia. To finally shake me off, he lied and said Liam was my boyfriend. Truthfully, when I first woke up, my memory was a bit fuzzy. But it all came rushing back very quickly. Faced with Caleb’s cruel prank, I didn’t think much of it at the time. Instead, out of pure stubbornness, I immediately exposed his lie, desperate to prove my mind was perfectly intact. I had timidly tugged at Caleb’s designer shirt, my eyes welling with tears. “Caleb, I don’t have amnesia. I’m not lying.” Unable to deal with my crying, Caleb had stiffened but pulled me into a hug. Just like he had done every time I cried over the past five years. “I’m sorry, Chloe. I made a mistake.” Overjoyed, I tossed the whole incident to the back of my mind. I went right back to orbiting around Caleb like a desperate satellite. Ever since I was sixteen, I realized my feelings for my adoptive brother had crossed a line. Whenever he brought a new girlfriend home, I would deliberately sabotage the relationship. Psychology books call it toxic possessiveness. I didn’t care. Caleb tacitly allowed all my outrageous behavior. Many times, when I drove those girls away, he was the one secretly pulling the strings behind the scenes. He indulged my tantrums and allowed my relentless pursuit. Once, blackout drunk, I threw my arms around Caleb and kissed him. He didn’t push me away. Instead, his body went rigid, and he let me take whatever I wanted from his lips. Back then, I foolishly believed that meant Caleb loved me too. But I ignored the most critical detail: he never actually admitted to having feelings for me. I kissed him for what felt like an eternity, until he suddenly snapped out of it, violently shoving me away and ordering me to get the hell out. Caleb had touched his swollen lips, a twisted, mocking smile forming on his face. “Chloe, how could you be in love with your own brother? You’re a sick freak.” I snapped awake as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped over my head. My entire body went numb. “I’m not. I didn’t mean to…” My weak defense trailed off. His voice rose sharply, dripping with interrogation. “You don’t have feelings for me? Really?” The sheer disgust in his eyes carved my heart to pieces. I couldn’t answer. Deep down, I did love Caleb. I was an orphan adopted from the foster system. He was the only person in the entire world who treated me well. How could I not fall for him? As if peering right into my darkest secret, Caleb’s disgust deepened. “Sick freaks like you belong locked up in a psychiatric ward for some serious rehabilitation.” 3 My thoughts snapped back to the present. I stared in bewilderment at Caleb, who was currently smirking at me. He met my gaze, making no effort to hide the amusement in his eyes. In a split second, goosebumps erupted all over my arms. An uncontrollable shiver racked my spine. I dug my fingernails hard into my palms, using the sharp pain to keep my sanity tethered. I looked him dead in the eye and enunciated every word clearly. “I understand, Caleb.” In this life, I refused to have any ties with him ever again. Everything between us ended the moment I died a miserable death in my past life. My days in that private psychiatric facility had been a living hell. Caleb visited me exactly once every two weeks. Unable to endure the daily beatings and electroshock “therapies,” I begged him on my knees to let me out. I had screamed until my throat bled, “Caleb, I was wrong! I don’t love you anymore! I swear!” But every time, Caleb simply looked down at me with cold, indifferent eyes, his voice devoid of any human emotion. “Chloe, it seems your illness is acting up again.” The moment he left, the agonizing torture would resume. I tried to contact anyone I knew, praying they would rescue me. But Caleb was thorough. He wiped my existence from the map. Not a single message ever made it out. Within six months, the abuse finally killed me. But after I died, Caleb lost his mind. He clung to my lifeless body and refused to let go. He said he regretted it. He said he loved me. He cried hysterically, repeating over and over how terrified and conflicted he had been. Falling in love with his adopted sister meant the elite circles of high society would look at him with disgust. My soul had stood right beside him, watching the whole pathetic display with icy detachment. I only felt nauseous. Even now, looking at Caleb triggered a physiological need to vomit. So, I shifted my gaze to Liam Sterling. I opened my arms wide, fighting back my tears, and put on my sweetest, most fragile voice. “Husband, hug me.” 4 Crash! The sound of shattering porcelain echoed sharply in the quiet hospital room. I glanced over. Caleb’s palm was sliced open, blood mixing with the hot coffee from the mug he just crushed, dripping onto the pristine floor. Disgusting. He stood frozen, all the mocking amusement wiped from his face. Replacing it was a storm of pure, unadulterated fury. But I didn’t care about him right now. All my attention was focused on Liam. The moment the word “Husband” left my lips, Liam’s eyes flushed a deep, rimmed red. His entire body went rigid as he looked up at me in utter shock. Disbelief and overwhelming emotion warred in his eyes, eventually settling into a profound, trembling vulnerability. His lips parted, his voice incredibly hoarse. He closed the distance between us in two rapid strides and pulled me tightly into his chest, burying his face in my neck. “Okay.” Caleb clenched his bleeding fist, the blood flowing faster. He coughed pointedly and raised his injured left hand, shoving it right into my line of sight. The metallic smell of blood made me wrinkle my nose. Liam smoothly shifted his body, pulling me to the side and wrapping his long trench coat around my shoulders to shield me. I peeked out from his chest, only for a large, warm hand to gently cover my eyes. “Don’t look. It’s gross,” Liam murmured. With that, Liam stood firmly between me and Caleb, glaring at him with naked hostility. “You know she’s terrified of blood and pain. Are you doing this just to make her sick?” A strange, unfamiliar warmth bloomed in my chest. I gently pushed Liam’s hand away and looked up at his pale, striking face. His features were flawless, exactly as I remembered. But looking closely, there was a sharper, more dangerous edge to him now. In my memories, Liam had always been the quiet, brooding type who kept to himself. This was the first time I had ever seen him ruthlessly call someone out. Clearly, Caleb was just as shocked. “Mind your own damn business.” Caleb rolled his eyes and pushed his trembling, bloody hand toward me again. He was waiting for my usual reaction. “Chloe, I’m hurt.” In the past, I would have panicked, frantically searching for the first-aid kit, crying massive tears while carefully bandaging his wounds. But now? I shrank deeper into Liam’s embrace and cast a look of utter revulsion at Caleb’s filthy hand. “Caleb, there are doctors and nurses in the hallway. I don’t have a medical degree.” “You—?!” I cut him off irritably. “I’m tired. I want to go home.” Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Liam’s lips twitching upward into a smirk. He looked like a smug golden retriever wagging its tail. 5 My body was fine. The doctors said I just needed bed rest at home. Liam absolutely refused to let my feet touch the floor. He insisted on carrying me out of the hospital. Caleb’s face was a mask of dark fury. At that moment, he finally snapped. He grabbed my arm in a vice grip. “Chloe, didn’t you say you wanted to go home?” I peeled his fingers off my arm one by one, leaving angry red marks on my pale skin. “I am. I’m going to my boyfriend’s home. Is there a problem, Caleb?” “Chloe Foster, you are going to regret this.” Caleb let out a self-deprecating laugh, the words practically hissed through his teeth. Regret? My only regret was not realizing my true feelings sooner. My only regret was acting like a total idiot in my past life, letting Caleb play me like a fiddle. Liam placed me gently into the passenger seat of his car and carefully buckled my seatbelt. He started the engine, slammed on the gas, and sped away. For the entire drive, his right hand tightly enveloped my fist, refusing to let go. When we arrived at his penthouse, I felt sticky and exhausted. I told him I wanted a bath. Liam attentively started the hot water. He pulled an unopened bottle of essential oil from the cabinet. When he opened it, the scent of jasmine filled the air—my absolute favorite. Next, he walked into his massive walk-in closet and pulled out a set of loungewear still bearing the price tags. It fit me perfectly. I was a little confused. Liam scratched the back of his neck, a deep flush spreading all the way to his ears. “I saw it while I was out shopping. I thought it would look good on you, so I just grabbed it.” “Did you just ‘grab’ all of this, too?” I pointed past him. Taking up more than half of the massive closet was a full wardrobe of women’s clothing. All brand new. All from the designers I loved most. “Don’t get the wrong idea, I was just… I was…” I blinked at him playfully, waiting for his excuse. Liam let out a heavy sigh, dropping the act entirely. “Is it a crime to buy clothes for my own girlfriend?” Was this really the deeply insecure, overly sensitive Liam from my memories? The guy who used to blush if I so much as said two words to him? In my past life, up until the day I died in that asylum, I barely interacted with him. It wasn’t until I was a ghost that I finally understood the terrifying depth of Liam’s love for me. 6 In my past life, my soul was tethered to the apartment I lived in before I died. I had moved out of the Foster family mansion the moment I realized I had feelings for Caleb. When Liam found out I was dead, he went straight to Caleb demanding answers. But what answers could he get? Caleb released a public statement claiming I had contracted a severe illness and passed away. Liam had no legal right to demand the truth or an autopsy. One night, Liam easily hacked the digital lock on my old apartment. I watched in shock as he stumbled through the door and collapsed into my bedroom. When my ghost drifted over, I saw his tall, broad frame curled into a tight ball on my mattress. His shoulders shook violently, a massive wet patch spreading across my pillow. I wanted to comfort him. But I didn’t even know where to begin. So I just sat on the edge of the bed and quietly watched him. Eventually, I couldn’t hold back anymore. I reached out to stroke his soft, messy hair. But I was just a ghost. I couldn’t truly touch him. My palm phased right through his dark strands. I patted the air above his head, trying to coax him like a child. “Liam, please don’t cry anymore. If you keep crying, I won’t be able to resist kissing you.” The handsome face resting on my pillow trembled violently for a split second. Liam’s eyes snapped open, massive tears rolling down his cheeks. Then, he squeezed them shut in absolute despair. “Liar.” The room fell dead silent. The only sound was his low, shattered sobbing echoing through the dark apartment. 7 From that day on, Liam moved into my apartment, keeping my ghost company. People called him crazy. I thought he was crazy, too. Because Liam developed a habit of talking to himself. One moment he’d be speaking to thin air, sharing something good that happened; the next, he’d be venting about a terrible day. I just stood there, listening quietly. Watching his cold, handsome face constantly stained with tears. Liam withered away day by day. I knew he was sick. The dining table was covered in mountains of prescription pill bottles. I begged him to keep living. But it was useless. He couldn’t hear a word I said. We lived together in that apartment for three whole years. Like two hopelessly lonely souls separated by an impenetrable wall. I couldn’t touch him, I couldn’t feel him, and he couldn’t hear me. The longer I stayed in the mortal realm, the more transparent my spirit became. I knew it wouldn’t be long before I faded from this world completely. Liam continued leaving early and coming home late. I was trapped in the apartment, so I had no idea what he was doing out there. Until the third anniversary of my death. Before Liam left the apartment, he deliberately turned on the TV and switched it to the local news channel. As he walked out the door, he turned back and stared deeply at the exact spot I was standing. My heart pounded with a sense of impending dread. Soon, a breaking news bulletin flashed across the screen: Caleb Foster, CEO of Foster Enterprises, killed in a fatal car collision. Police suspect a targeted hit. The suspect has fled the scene and a massive manhunt is underway. It was Liam. He was such an idiot! Panic surged through me. My soul erupted with an unprecedented burst of energy, shattering the invisible barrier trapping me in the apartment. Guided by some unknown force, I materialized right in front of my own gravestone. Liam was slumped against the cold marble, hugging my headstone, crying like a broken child. “Chloe, I finally avenged you.” Scattered around his feet were empty prescription bottles and crushed beer cans. I hovered around him, panicking helplessly. The massive cemetery was completely empty. No one was around to stop him. “Liam Sterling, I order you, you are not allowed to die! Do you hear me?!” My hysterical, ear-piercing scream seemed to briefly pierce the veil. Liam looked up, staring right into my eyes. The corners of his lips curved up into a breathtaking, satisfied smile. “You came to pick me up, didn’t you?” The moment the words left his mouth, he took a hunting knife and slashed it brutally across his scarred wrist. “Chloe, if there is a next life, I promise I’ll be brave enough to hold your hand.” 8 Thank God, the universe gave me a second chance. Looking at the handsome face just inches away from mine, my cheeks flushed, and my eyes filled with tears. The memory of his dying smile carved a bloody hole in my chest. It hurt so much I gasped. A warm hand gently cupped my cheek, using a thumb to carefully wipe away the tears pooling at the corners of my eyes. “Does your head still hurt?” The car crash hadn’t been serious. I only suffered a few minor scrapes. Compared to the torture I endured in my past life, it was absolutely nothing. I hadn’t been in pain for a while. But I didn’t want Liam to know about my rebirth. I nodded, greedily leaning into the warmth of his palm. “It hurts. It hurts so much. I think I need a kiss to make it better.” “So spoiled.” Liam licked his lower lip, his dark eyes shining brilliantly. “Is a kiss going to be enough?” Before I could even process the words, a hand tangled into the hair at the back of my head. An all-consuming kiss crashed down on me, completely dominating my senses. It felt like he was trying to crush me into his very bones. I was kissed until I was completely out of breath. Suddenly, my phone started ringing. It was Caleb. I didn’t want to answer it. But the man kissing me seemed utterly tireless, showing zero signs of stopping. Annoyed, I reached out blindly to reject the call, but my finger accidentally swiped ‘Answer’. “Chloe, I thought about it. You need to come back to the estate. The maids can take proper care of you there.” “Mmph…” A muffled moan accidentally slipped from my lips. Caleb lost his mind on the other end of the line. “Chloe, what the hell are you doing?! Answer me!” “Don’t get distracted.” I didn’t have the breath to reply to Caleb. Someone grabbed my hand and hit the end call button. Half an hour later, I was still wrapped around Liam like a koala. Violent pounding on the front door, mixed with furious swearing, echoed from the entryway. “Liam Sterling, who gave you the right to touch her?!” 9 Caleb was being incredibly annoying. I wanted to ignore him. But it didn’t sound like he was going to leave anytime soon. Pouting, I reluctantly untangled myself from Liam. He chuckled, ruffling my messy hair, his eyes curving into sweet crescents. “Be a good girl. I’ll go get rid of him.” With his lips still flushed and swollen, Liam walked over and opened the door. He had barely cracked it open when Caleb barged in like a rabid dog. His dark, venomous gaze swept over my body. It finally landed on the blooming red marks scattered across my neck. “You dared to touch her? Liam, you actually touched her?!” Caleb roared, pulling his fist back with pure hatred, aiming a vicious punch straight at Liam’s face. “She has amnesia, you psycho! You’re taking advantage of her!” I screamed. But Liam just casually tilted his head, effortlessly dodging the incoming fist. Was this the Liam I knew? Since when was he this agile? His counterattacks were ruthless, every punch connecting with a sickening thud. In less than ten seconds, Caleb was completely subdued and forcefully shoved out the front door. “Get the hell out! If you ever harass her again, I’ll kill you.” Slam. The heavy oak door shut, leaving me staring at Liam’s broad, intimidating back. When he turned around, the terrifying aura vanished, replaced by his usual gentle warmth. “Did I scare you?” It was honestly a masterpiece. I was dumbfounded. Wait a minute. Something wasn’t right with Liam. “Are you hiding something from me?” Liam scratched the back of his head, nodding shyly. “Yeah. You said you liked them, so I secretly started working out.” “Liked what?” He pointed a long, elegant finger at his own torso. I like abs? When did I ever say that? Then it hit me. In my past life, when I was a ghost trapped in his apartment, I had spent hours staring at his perfectly sculpted eight-pack, whining about how I could look but couldn’t touch. Wait, no, how could he possibly know what my ghost said? I eyed the man in front of me with deep suspicion. I immediately crashed into a pair of eyes brimming with amusement. “I know ‘PancakeLover99’ is your burner account.” Well, wasn’t he observant. It was true. I used to use that burner account to leave extremely thirsty comments on TikTok fitness videos. But did he have to expose me like this?! Where was my dignity? How was I supposed to try out my wicked ideas on him now? Whatever. I threw my pride out the window and rubbed my hands together like a cartoon villain. I stared hungrily at his rock-hard abs. “Can I touch?” His handsome face immediately turned crimson. After a long pause, a response as quiet as a mosquito came from above me. “Yeah.” 10 The next morning, I pushed myself up off his perfectly toned stomach. There were faint red indentations on Liam’s skin from where I had been sleeping on him. He was a remarkably still sleeper. He barely moved the entire night. When I was a spirit, I had slept in the same bed as him for three years. But this was the first time I had ever shared a bed with him in the flesh. Once the initial adrenaline wore off, a massive wave of shyness crashed over me. Blushing furiously, I tried to escape, but his hand wrapped around my ankle, dragging me right back on top of him. His thin lips brushed against mine, teasing and affectionate. “Feeling shy? You certainly didn’t look this way last night when you asked me to call you ‘Master’.” Trembling, I pushed against his chest. “I’m hungry.” Liam’s eyes narrowed slightly, but his hands didn’t stop wandering. “Hmm?” I panicked and clarified. “My stomach is hungry.” Right on cue, my stomach let out a loud rumble. Liam looked deeply disappointed. He pulled his hands back, resting his chin on his hand as he looked at me playfully. “But this part of me is hungry, too.” “…” By the time we finally got dressed and walked out of the bedroom, his private chef had already prepared lunch and left. The entire table was covered in all my favorite dishes. As we ate, Liam asked me, “What do you want to do today?” “I have amnesia, remember? I don’t remember anything.” I decided to tease him. “Why don’t you tell me? What were our dates usually like?” Liam’s face turned pink, but he shook his head with a smug smile. “You just loved being with me. You never wanted to be apart.” “Okay, but where did we usually go?” I wasn’t sure if I imagined it, but Liam’s expression darkened for a split second, a flash of sorrow crossing his eyes. “We…” He fell into a deep silence, as if trying to recall something from a very distant past. “We liked staying at home.” Staying at home? Considering what happened this morning, my lower back was still aching. There was no way we were staying at home today. “Liam, let’s go to IKEA.” “Huh?” “This place is too cold and minimalist. I don’t like it.” Liam wasn’t a fan of lively spaces. His penthouse was practically empty. Everything was decorated in cold, sterile grays and blacks. It didn’t feel like a home at all. I wanted to paint this entire house with my colors. Not just by hanging a few dresses in the closet. I wanted to claim every inch of it. Because Liam was plagued by severe separation anxiety. If I stepped out of his sight for even a few seconds, he would panic and frantically search for me. Only when he saw I was safe would he let out a massive breath and pull me into a crushing hug. “Chloe, I was so scared I’d lost you again.” Tears would well in his eyes as he gasped for air. “When I can’t see you, it feels like a piece of me is missing.” So, I wanted to aggressively mark my territory, to fill that empty void in his heart with evidence of my existence.

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I dated Arthur Sterling in secret for two years. He always refused to make our relationship public. That is, until I saw a photo hidden in his study. I realized then that he had a “first love” permanently residing in his heart. But infuriatingly, he was completely transparent about her. He told me about every single time they hung out alone. As time went on, I finally got tired of waiting. “Let’s break up.” He glanced at me and sighed. “You just want to go public, right? Stop playing these games. You know perfectly well I don’t fall for that.” I didn’t answer. I just handed in my resignation. Later, after I moved back to a neighboring city, I heard a rumor. Mr. Sterling, who had aggressively maintained his “single” persona for years, was suddenly wearing a wedding ring. He claimed he had lost the girl he loved. 1 On my birthday, Arthur, who was famously punctual, was late for the very first time. I looked at the cold food on the table and sighed internally. It’s fine. He’s busy with work. I need to be understanding. Just as I was debating whether to clear the table, I heard the lock turn. Arthur walked in, bringing a rush of cold air with him. I went to hug him, but he stopped me. “I’m cold. Let me change my clothes first.” While he was changing, I heated up the food. Once he sat down, the first thing he said was an apology. “I’m sorry I’m late today.” “Chloe had to fly back to North City today, so I drove her to the airport.” Hearing that familiar name, my hand holding the chopsticks paused. Arthur noticed. He leaned forward, looking tired but lazy, his tone teasing. “What? Are you jealous?” “It’s not like you don’t know her. I’ve told you about her.” “We grew up together. If something was going to happen between us, it would have happened a long time ago.” Suppressing a bizarre, uncomfortable feeling in my chest, I shook my head and lied to him for the first time. “I’m not jealous.” Then, I quietly finished my meal. When I started to clear the table, Arthur grabbed my hand. “The cleaner will take care of it tomorrow.” He pulled me over to the sofa and pulled me onto his lap. “Still trying to say you aren’t upset? What do I have to do to make you happy?” I froze for a moment. Then, taking advantage of the opening, I asked the question for the third time. “When can we go public?” Arthur smiled indulgently. Then, with a helpless sigh, he stroked my hair. “Going public wouldn’t be good for you.” This was the second time I had heard him say that. The first time was right after we started dating. He had said, “Let’s not go public. It wouldn’t be good for you.” Because he was the most famous, eligible billionaire bachelor in Kun City. And I was just a nameless, low-level employee at his company. Even the way we met was incredibly humiliating for me. My manager was furious because the client had rejected my proposal multiple times. In a fit of rage, he threw the file folder directly at me. Papers scattered all over the floor, and I didn’t dare make a sound. Just then, Arthur happened to walk by. He looked relaxed, almost bored. He just cast a fleeting, weightless glance our way, and my manager instantly panicked. “Mr. Sterling.” Arthur’s voice was completely flat. “Sometimes, you shouldn’t just blindly blame the employees.” “It’s not unheard of for a proposal to be rejected multiple times, only for the client to ultimately choose the very first draft.” “You are absolutely right, sir.” My manager agreed sycophantically, shooting me a pointed look. I crouched down, gathered the scattered papers, and walked out with my head bowed. That evening, just as I walked out of the office building, his car pulled up right in front of me. The window rolled down, and he invited me. “Won’t you treat me to dinner?” I didn’t decline. After all, thanks to his intervention today, my manager had stopped harassing me. I mentally calculated the balance in my bank account and gave him a rare, honest answer. “I’m afraid I can’t afford to treat Mr. Sterling.” “It’s fine. I’m very easy to feed.” That night, he and I went to a casual Sichuan restaurant and had a very simple meal. I thought that would be our first and only interaction. But right before we parted ways, he stared at me for a long time, then smiled. “I really enjoyed spending time with you. Thank you for dinner.” “See you next time.” I gave him a stiff wave goodbye. I thought to myself: Arthur’s eyes really do make everyone feel like he’s deeply in love with them. My thoughts snapped back to the present. Those same “deeply in love” eyes were studying my face intently. His tone was coaxing. “At Sterling Corp, you can do whatever you want.” “By my side, you can buy whatever you want.” “The only thing I can’t give you is going public.” I pretended to be angry, turning my head away and ignoring him. He gently turned my face back. “Stop being mad, okay?” “We’re together. That’s a fact, isn’t it?” Thinking about it, the manager who had made my life hell when we first started dating had been demoted. I had gone from an errand girl everyone ordered around to someone who could quietly do her own work without interference—all thanks to him. I quickly convinced myself it was fine, then leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Arthur.” 2 On the weekend, Arthur went into the office to work overtime. I was bored at home alone, so I decided to tidy up the apartment. Arthur had told me before that this place belonged to both of us. He said he had absolutely no secrets, and I was allowed to go anywhere. So, after cleaning the living room, I went into the study. While wiping down the desk, I noticed a book tucked away in the corner. It looked completely out of place among the business files. It looked like a college textbook. My curiosity piqued, I picked it up and flipped through it. A piece of paper fluttered out of the pages and landed on the floor. I instinctively picked it up and realized it was a photograph. I flipped it over. The photo showed Arthur with someone else. The two of them looked incredibly comfortable and relaxed in front of the camera. The way they smiled at each other spoke volumes of their deep, familiar connection. Beneath the photo, there was a single line of text written in elegant calligraphy. [There is a beautiful one, clear and graceful. A chance encounter, she perfectly suits my heart’s desire.] It was Arthur’s handwriting. In that exact moment, I suddenly understood why we couldn’t go public. It turned out that someone else had permanently taken residence in his heart—someone he could never forget. And that someone… was the person I had just heard him mention a few days ago. It was Chloe. The girl he claimed he “would have gotten with a long time ago if it was going to happen.” 3 That night. I was lying on the sofa, binge-watching a TV show. Arthur poured himself a glass of water and went into his study. A few minutes later, he hurried back out. Seeing my confused expression, he quickly regained his composure. “Did you clean the study today?” I didn’t bring up the photo. I just gave a soft “Hmm.” “Yeah, just a quick tidy-up.” Seeing me act completely normal, he retreated back into the study. Under the blanket, my fingers gripped the edge of my shirt tightly. I knew exactly what he was panicking about. Early the next morning, he left the house before I was even awake. I walked back into the study and flipped open that book. Just as I suspected, the photo was gone. My phone pinged with a transfer notification. I opened it and saw a message from Arthur attached. [I haven’t spent much time with you these past two days. Go out, walk around, and buy yourself something nice.] As usual, I ignored the massive transfer amount. And politely thanked him. I set the phone down, suddenly finding the whole situation incredibly funny. Making a gesture like this right now… Was it out of love, or guilt? What happened that evening gave me my answer. We had just finished dinner when Arthur’s phone rang. He didn’t try to hide it from me; he answered it right there. Chloe’s voice came through the speaker. “I’ll be there soon. Are you coming to pick me up, Arthur?” Arthur agreed in a gentle, warm tone. He hung up and looked at me. “I’m going to pick her up and take her home.” For the very first time, I didn’t just nod and agree. For the very first time, I bared my teeth at him. “Does she literally not know a single other person here besides you?” Arthur tapped his fingers lightly against the table. “I don’t like explaining things I’ve already explained twice.” “You understand me, right?” I stared at him for a long, long time. Just as he was starting to look impatient, I suddenly smiled. “Go ahead!” Seeing my smile, his brow relaxed. He walked over and kissed my forehead. “Wait for me to come back.” But as soon as he left the apartment, I changed my clothes and followed him out. Some things, you have to see with your own eyes before you can truly give up. 4 When I arrived at the airport, Chloe was just walking out of the terminal. Arthur habitually took her suitcase from her hand. And Chloe naturally hooked her arm through his. I wasn’t standing far away. I could clearly hear Chloe’s voice. “Arthur, thank you for coming to pick me up.” She paused, as if she had just remembered something. She started rummaging through her small purse. She pulled something out, resting it on her open palm and holding it up to Arthur. “I brought you some cufflinks. Thanks for always driving me around.” Arthur chuckled softly. “You really do treat me like your personal chauffeur, don’t you?” Chloe playfully stuck her tongue out, then proceeded to put the cufflinks on Arthur. “See? I told you I have great taste.” Just as I was about to leave, I caught a glimpse of Chloe standing on her tiptoes out of the corner of my eye, leaning in to kiss him. Arthur, seemingly sensing her intent, took a step back, and Chloe kissed empty air. Perhaps his reaction annoyed her. She stomped her foot. “Look how scared you are.” Arthur just smiled without saying a word. I turned around and walked away. It was probably in that exact moment. That I realized my relationship with Arthur was permanently fractured. When Arthur finally came home that night, I was already getting ready for bed. While he was changing his clothes, I intentionally asked: “When did you buy those cufflinks? I’ve never seen you wear them.” His movements stalled for a fraction of a second. “Chloe gave them to me.” Perhaps he genuinely believed that his transparency proved he had nothing to hide. But I had seen how intimately they interacted. And I knew about that carefully hidden photograph. Was it that he didn’t like her, or was it that he didn’t dare cross that line? I knew the answer, even if he didn’t realize it himself. And the reason he refused to go public, aggressively maintaining his “single” persona… Who was all of that really for? 5 The next day, Arthur didn’t go into the office; he worked from home. He told me he had a gathering with some old friends that evening. I nodded, indicating I understood. Then, I took the subway to the office alone. When I got home from work that night, the apartment was completely empty and pitch black. The only source of light was the dim glow of his laptop on the dining table. I walked over to shut the computer down. Suddenly, I saw a WeChat window flashing. He probably forgot to log out before he left. The open chat window seemed to be a group chat with his friends. Someone was actively instigating: [I heard Chloe is back for good this time?] [Hey Arthur, you two grew up together, and you’ve both been single forever. Why don’t you guys just get together?!] Chloe sent an “angry” reaction sticker. Arthur replied with two words. [Stop messing around. Chloe can’t handle jokes like that.] I used the mouse to close the application. Then I shut down the laptop. Around 9 PM, Arthur suddenly sent me a message. It was an address, accompanied by a single sentence: [Bring my jacket here.] I didn’t ask why. I obediently hailed a cab and delivered it. Just as I was about to knock on the private room door, I heard his friends bringing up that topic again. “Arthur, she’s devastated. Look how much Chloe has drank because you won’t make a move.” “You’re not getting any younger. Dating isn’t illegal, you know.” “You two already know each other so well.” Arthur looked up, smiled faintly, and didn’t deny it. I pushed the door open and walked in. “Mr. Sterling, your jacket.” The smile on Arthur’s face vanished instantly. He quickly recovered, taking the jacket from me with a stiff, professional demeanor, and carefully draped it over Chloe’s shoulders. Then he turned to me: “Sorry for making you run this errand. Expensing the cab fare to the company tomorrow.” I shook my head. “It’s fine. It wasn’t much.” As I turned to leave… I heard his friends asking. “That’s your employee?! She’s actually really pretty.” “You’re constantly surrounded by women. Have you seriously never been tempted?” Before Arthur could answer, I heard Chloe’s voice. “Arthur would never fall for a woman.” I hid in the shadows, catching a glimpse of the life Arthur deliberately excluded me from. When he stepped outside for a smoke, one of his friends followed him. “That girl who just dropped off your jacket… your relationship with her isn’t exactly professional, is it?” I lowered my head, thinking to myself: Was it really that obvious? When I looked up again, Arthur’s face was blurred by the swirling cigarette smoke. His voice was hoarse. “The very first time I saw her, I noticed her immediately.” “She looks exactly like Chloe did right after her teacher passed away.” “So obedient, so desperate to please… even the way she looks completely lost and helpless when things go wrong is exactly the same.” I couldn’t hear the rest of what he said. Unable to control my tears any longer, I simply turned and walked away. On the way home, I stared blankly at the passing scenery outside the window. I thought to myself: It’s time to break up. 6 That night, Arthur didn’t come home. He went back to the office, texting me that he reeked of alcohol and it was too late; he didn’t want to disturb my sleep. I didn’t reply to his message. The next day, he had a formal gown delivered to me. He said we were attending an auction gala together that evening. After thinking it over, I agreed. I planned to end things with him the moment the event was over. At the auction venue, I entered with my arm linked through his. It was my first time at an event like this, and I was too nervous to speak. He patted my hand gently to comfort me. “Don’t worry. I’m right here.” But right after we walked in, a clear, crisp voice rang out. “Arthur!” I recognized the voice instantly. It was Chloe. The next second, Arthur removed my hand from his arm. He escorted me to a quiet corner. “Wait for me here like a good girl. It’ll be over soon.” “If you want anything, just text me.” I sat there, restless and anxious. Watching him and Chloe sit together. She had a bright, innocent smile on her face. I watched the auction items being sold off one by one. Until they brought out a ring. For the very first time, I initiated contact with Arthur. [I want that.] In my line of sight, I saw him check his phone. Then Chloe grabbed his arm and whispered something to him. Then he replied. [Pick something else. Someone else wants that one.] I thought about it for a moment, suddenly unsure of what exactly I was fighting for. I decided to leave early. It was close to midnight when Arthur finally came home. I had already packed my bags. “Mr. Sterling, some things just aren’t meant to be, and I don’t want to fight for them anymore.” “Let’s end this here. Let’s break up!” Arthur sat down on the sofa, stretching his long legs out. He glanced at me and sighed. “You want to go public, right?” “Stop playing these games. You know perfectly well I don’t fall for that.” But what he didn’t know… Was that this time, I genuinely meant it. 7 “I know you don’t fall for it, and I’ve thought this through.” “Arthur, no one wants to stay hidden in the dark forever.” He didn’t say anything else. I rolled my suitcase out and quietly shut the door behind me. The next second, I heard the violent crash of something shattering inside the apartment. My hand hovered over the door handle, then dropped. Since I had decided to leave, I shouldn’t drag things out. I walked outside with my suitcase but couldn’t get a cab for a long time. Just as I was about to start walking, a car pulled up in front of me. Arthur’s driver stepped out and opened the door. “Ms. Harrison, Mr. Sterling asked me to drop you wherever you need to go.” I didn’t try to be polite. I turned and got into the car. Arthur was always like this. He took care of me in every conceivable way, and he was never stingy with anything he could buy. But the one thing I wanted most, he couldn’t give me. Being a hidden secret made me feel incredibly insecure. I know I should be able to provide my own sense of security. But I couldn’t stop myself from fixating on the fact that he and I would never have a real future. When I got to the hotel, the very first thing I did was write my resignation email and hit send. In that moment, I felt an unprecedented sense of relief. I booked my train ticket home. And completely blocked Arthur on absolutely everything. Lying in bed, memories of our time together suddenly flooded my mind. The hugs, the kisses… he had even looked me dead in the eye and told me he loved me. And I had believed his love was real. But now I knew. Even if I had never found that photo. Even if none of this had happened. He still wouldn’t have chosen me in the end. Alone in the room, I finally let myself break down and cry. I cried until I fell asleep. The next morning, looking at my swollen, red eyes in the mirror, I decided to dig my sunglasses out of my suitcase and wear them. When I arrived at the airport, I unexpectedly ran into the same man who had spoken to me so coldly the day before. Right now, he was pushing a luggage cart, his head lowered as he listened to the girl walking next to him. The moment we brushed past each other, he didn’t recognize me. But I heard Chloe asking him: “Where’s Mia? I’m surprised she’s not shadowing you.” “I always thought she had a huge crush on you! I was honestly a little jealous.” I slowed my pace slightly and heard his reply. “She resigned. We probably won’t be seeing each other again.”

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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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