Category: English

I died ninety-nine times on a luxury cruise ship. Every single time, the ship struck the rocks and sank at exactly midnight. And every single time, I failed to find the traitor responsible for the disaster. Ninety-nine loops. Trapped in a cycle with no way out, my body worn to nothing and my mind on the edge of breaking. When the hundredth loop began, I gave up. I stopped fighting. All I wanted was to spend my last few hours holding my brand-new wife in my arms. But the moment I pulled her close, my hands found something hidden beneath her elegant evening gown — something ice-cold, hard, and already inflated. A miniature life vest. Suffocation. My lungs felt like they were being stabbed by hundreds of red-hot needles all at once. The freezing seawater was alive — coiling through my nose and mouth, forcing its way down my throat like serpents. I thrashed wildly, arms and legs flailing in the pitch-black deep, grasping at nothing but empty water. My consciousness began to slip. The world around me dissolved into a vast, endless blue. Then — silence. Dead silence. … “Haah—!” I jolted upright in bed, gasping, my entire body soaked through with cold sweat. The soft velvet blanket slid off my shoulders. No salt, no brine — just the faint, calming scent of premium agarwood incense drifting through the air. No crashing waves — just the low, steady hum of the cruise ship’s engines. I wasn’t dead. I was back. I turned my head and stared at the priceless Patek Philippe custom clock sitting on the nightstand. The second hand ticked steadily. 8:00 PM. This was the hundredth time I had woken up at this exact hour, in this exact bed. “Eleanor, did you have a nightmare?” The bathroom door swung open softly. Victoria stepped out in a cloud of warm steam. She wore a silky wine-red robe, her damp hair falling loosely over her bare shoulders, her breathtaking face full of concern. Just the sight of her made my racing heart begin to slow. For the past ninety-nine loops, I’d run around this ship like a madman. I’d tried warning the captain. I’d tried forcing the ship off course. I’d even tried blowing up the engine room to stop it entirely. None of it worked. No matter what I did, the moment midnight hit, that deafening crack would tear through the hull. Water would rush in. The ship would capsize. And everyone would go down screaming. I was exhausted. Too tired to even lift a finger. If fate couldn’t be changed, then I wasn’t going to spend my last four hours fighting it. I just wanted to be with the woman I loved most — and go quietly. “It’s nothing. Just a bad dream.” I managed a tired smile, threw back the covers, and walked straight toward her. I opened my arms and pulled her close. Her body was soft, carrying the clean scent of her body wash — a smell I had never stopped loving. I wanted to bury my face in the curve of her neck and breathe in this last moment of warmth. But the second I tightened my arms around her, my hand caught on something at her back. Beneath the soft silk of her robe — something hard. Something that had no business being there. It was… After ninety-nine times fighting to survive in the water, I recognized the feel of it instantly. A compact, body-hugging, military-grade inflatable life vest！ And it was already partially inflated — primed and ready to deploy. It was 8:00 PM. Four full hours before the ship would hit the rocks. Outside, the sea was perfectly calm. The sky was full of stars. So why was my brand-new wife wearing a hidden life vest under her robe?

“Ow, Eleanor — you’re holding me too tight.” Victoria pulled back with a soft pout, trying to wriggle free from my arms. I forced down the icy dread spreading through my chest and slowly let go. “Sorry. The nightmare felt too real. I’m still not quite myself.” I stepped back half a pace and kept my voice easy, my eyes catching the brief flicker of unease in hers. Ninety-nine brushes with death had sharpened my instincts. She was nervous. “Let me pour you something to take the edge off.” She turned and walked quickly toward the bar in the corner of the room. Watching her go, my mind shifted into overdrive. The ship striking the reef. A situation with no way out. A wife who had already fastened her life jacket. None of this was a coincidence. Could it be — the one who caused this ship to go down wasn’t some stranger hiding in the shadows. It was the woman who shared my bed. How could that be possible?！ We’d been together three years. She stood by me through the darkest days of Vance Group. She was gentle, warm, and endlessly understanding — the only light in my life. But what I felt on her back when I held her was real. If you want to keep up the act, I’ll play along. I wanted to see what she was truly hiding underneath that soft, loving face. “Vicky, I want that bottle of ’82 Lafite. It’s at the bottom of my suitcase.” I sank onto the sofa, my voice lazy and unbothered. “Of course. I’ll go grab it.” She set down her glass and disappeared into the walk-in closet. The moment she crouched down and started digging through the suitcase, I shot to my feet and crossed the room to her vanity table. My eyes went straight to her Hermès makeup bag — the one that never left her side. I unzipped it. Lipstick, foundation, perfume… everything looked perfectly normal. But I didn’t stop. I pressed my fingers firmly along the bottom edge of the bag. Click. A faint, sharp snap. The bottom of the bag swung open, revealing a hidden compartment. Inside, lying completely still, was a black satellite phone. No brand markings. No logo. I drew a slow breath, picked it up, and pressed the power button. The screen lit up. No lock screen — it went straight to the home screen. One message. Received ten minutes ago. Sender: [Hound] “Bottom explosive device is armed. Timer set: 23:59. Target asset transfer protocol is active. Put your life jacket on and wait for extraction.” It hit me like a bomb going off inside my skull. Explosive device！ Asset transfer！ Target！ There was no reef. This ship was deliberately blown up. And I — I was the “target.” All ninety-nine times I nearly drowned. All ninety-nine times I clawed at the edge of madness and despair. Every single one of them had been a carefully planned murder. A savage rage at being betrayed by the person I loved most slammed into a bone-deep grief, and together they swallowed me whole. I gripped the satellite phone so hard my knuckles turned white. “Eleanor, I’ve got the wine—” Victoria stepped out of the closet, red wine in hand. Her words died in her throat. She saw what I was holding. The warmth drained from her face in an instant. Her pupils shrank to pinpoints. The air in the room dropped to absolute zero.

“What is this?” I held up the satellite phone, my voice so calm it even scared me. Victoria stood frozen, her body trembling slightly. But within two seconds, the panic on her face disappeared — replaced by a chilling composure I had never seen from her before. “Since you’ve already seen it, I won’t bother pretending.” She casually tossed the priceless bottle of wine onto the carpet. The red liquid spread across the fibers like blood. “Eleanor Vance, you’re a sharp businessman. But you’re too sentimental — and that is your fatal flaw.” She walked to the sofa and sat down, elegantly lighting a slim cigarette. “Who put you up to this?” I gritted my teeth and stepped toward her. “You don’t need to know that. All you need to know is that by the end of tonight, everything in Vance Group will change hands.” She blew a slow smoke ring, her eyes full of mockery. “You think you can kill me on this ship?” I laughed coldly. Over the course of ninety-nine loops, I had honed my skills to the level of a trained assassin. Taking down one woman? Three seconds, tops. “Kill you? No, no, no — why would I want to get my own hands dirty?” Victoria laughed so hard she nearly doubled over. “You’re going to ‘accidentally’ die in a shipwreck, right in front of the entire ship — the tragic CEO who never saw it coming.” Just then, the doorbell rang. Ding-dong. “Eleanor, it’s the Captain. Your dinner reservation is ready.” The voice from outside the door was deep and steady — the voice of this cruise ship’s captain. In previous loops, I had begged him for help countless times. He always brushed me off with the same dismissive, by-the-book indifference. I walked over and yanked the door open. The Captain stood outside in a crisp white uniform, wearing his professional smile. Behind him, two waiters pushed a service cart. “Eleanor, this is the French baked lobster you specially requested—” “Shut up.” I cut him off cold, my eyes fixed on his face like a blade. “Captain, I remember very clearly — at the welcome dinner on the first night of this voyage, you told me personally that you have a severe shellfish allergy. You said even the smell gives you hives.” I pointed at the enormous red lobster on the cart and said, word by word: “So tell me — why are you the one personally delivering this to my cabin?” The smile on the Captain’s face froze. Fine beads of cold sweat instantly broke out across his forehead. “I… I…” He stumbled over his words, his eyes darting uncontrollably toward Victoria on the sofa. “Because he’s not the real Captain!” I slammed my foot into the service cart and sent it crashing to the floor. Scalding broth splattered all over both waiters. “You’re all in on this together!” It finally made sense. Why no matter how many warnings I gave, the crew never reacted. Why the ship had drifted so far off course without a single person finding it strange. Because everyone on this ship — from the captain down to the waiters — was a player in this murder plot. Clap. Clap. Clap. Victoria sat on the sofa and applauded slowly. “Brilliant. Truly brilliant, Eleanor. You’re even sharper than I gave you credit for.” She stood up and stubbed her cigarette out in the ashtray. “But even now that you’ve figured it all out — what does it change? Do you really think you can escape?” Her words had barely left her lips when the two waiters — still grimacing from the scalding broth — suddenly reached inside their jackets and pulled out silenced pistols. The barrels pointed straight at my head.

“Kneel.” The fake captain tore off his mask of civility, his face twisting with rage as he screamed at me. I stared down the two dark gun barrels and didn’t move. My mind was running at full speed — calculating distances, angles. “I said, kneel!” He stepped forward and raised his radio, swinging it down toward my head. Now！ I ducked sharply, dodging the blow, and launched myself forward. I grabbed the wrist holding the radio and twisted hard. Crack. The sound of bone snapping was sharp and clean. “AHHH—!” The fake captain let out a blood-curdling shriek. I swung his massive body in front of me, using him as a human shield. Phff. Phff. Two muffled shots. Both bullets hit the fake captain square in the chest. Blood bloomed instantly across his white uniform. In the split second the two hitmen hesitated, I shoved his body aside, rolled into a tactical dive, and snatched a dinner knife off the floor. It left my hand like a flash of lightning. The blade buried itself in the left hitman’s throat. He clutched at his neck as blood poured between his fingers, then dropped straight down. The hitman on the right went pale. He barely started to swing his gun around before I was already on him — a vicious knee strike connecting hard with his jaw. Thud. He flew off his feet and slammed into the wall, out cold. Five seconds. Start to finish. This was muscle memory forged across ninety-nine deaths — beaten into me through countless beatings and killings. I was breathing hard. I picked up the handgun from the floor, turned around, and pointed it straight at Victoria. She stood completely still, staring at the blood and bodies scattered across the floor. Not a trace of fear on her face. Instead, she smiled — a strange, unsettling smile, like someone who already knew exactly how this would end. “Nice moves, Eleanor.” She even stepped forward, pressing her forehead directly against the barrel. “Go ahead. Shoot me. Kill me.” Her eyes were full of challenge. “You think I won’t?” I kept my finger on the trigger. Rage burned in my chest. “Oh, you would.” Victoria’s lips curved into a mocking smile. “But if you kill me, you won’t make it out either.” A mocking smirk tugged at the corner of Victoria’s mouth. “Eleanor — doesn’t it seem strange to you? Why do you always wake up again at eight o’clock every time you die?” My pupils snapped tight. She… how did she know about the loop? I had never told a single person. “Did you actually think this was God giving you a second chance?” Victoria laughed — loud, raw, and cruel. “Don’t be naive. There is no such thing as a time loop.” “Everything you’ve been experiencing — this ship, this ocean, me — all of it is fake！” She threw her arms wide, like she was unveiling a masterpiece. “Welcome to the Abyss System, Eleanor.” “It’s a virtual reality interrogation chamber hardwired directly into your brain.” “You’re not at sea at all. Right now, you’re lying in a stasis pod in Vance Group’s underground lab, with electrodes planted all over your skull.” The words hit me like a wrecking ball. Virtual reality？ Neural interrogation？ The room spun around me. “That’s… that’s not possible…” My voice came out barely above a whisper. The gun trembled in my hands. “Why not?” Victoria pressed closer. “You’re holding the highest-level master access codes for Vance Group. We’re talking about wealth large enough to buy a small country.” “But your willpower is too strong. Standard truth serums and physical interrogation don’t work on you.” “So they built this system.” “To put you through the most hopeless deaths imaginable, over and over, in a virtual world. Grinding down your mental defenses one loop at a time.” “Until you break completely — and hand over the codes.” She pointed to the clock on the wall. “The ship sinking at midnight is the system’s forced restart protocol. Every restart causes irreversible damage to your brain.” “Ninety-nine times, Eleanor. Your neural pathways are stretched to the breaking point — like a rubber band about to snap.” “This is the last loop. If you don’t hand over the codes, your brain will flatline at midnight tonight. And in the real world, you will be a vegetable. Forever.”

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1 In my past life, when my sister fled her wedding, Ernie Crawford didn’t flinch. He simply married me instead. Afterward, he was impeccably polite—the perfect gentleman. Then news came: my sister nearly died in childbirth overseas. Ernie locked himself in his study, smoking till dawn. The next day, endless boxes of premium vitamins, supplements, and rich foods arrived. I thought he cared about my future pregnancies. That warmth lasted until I nearly died delivering an oversized baby, forced by all that nutrition. When he heard I’d survived, his eyes were hollow. “She must have suffered so much,” he murmured. Later, my sister complained her baby pulled her hair. That night, Ernie hacked off mine with shears, calling it practical for newborn care. When she sprained her ankle, I fell down stairs, in a cast for three months. When she cut her finger chopping vegetables, he shattered a crystal glass into my palm. News broke: my sister died in a car crash abroad. Ernie dragged me to the city’s highest suspension bridge, plunging us into icy water. His last words: “You were only ever her shadow. If she’s dead, you have no right to breathe.” I woke back in the moment he came to finalize our engagement. Stella had already slipped away. He looked at me coldly. “It’ll have to be you.” A laugh escaped my lips. “Mr. Crawford, I already love someone else. Find your replacement elsewhere.” My words hung in the air. Ernie’s gaze swept over my face like I was completely invisible. He turned slightly and gave my father a stiff nod. “Then it is settled. The engagement gifts will be delivered tomorrow.” My parents were drowning in guilt over Stella’s escape. They nodded eagerly, practically bowing to him. I gripped my phone tight under the table. My fingers were trembling as I typed out a quick message to Roman Blackwood, the undisputed, ruthless king of the Manhattan elite. “Hello. Let us get married.” My heart was lodged in my throat. A second later, the screen lit up. “Done.” “Next Wednesday. It is a perfect day for a wedding.” I stood up and shoved the phone screen right in front of Ernie’s face. “Ernie, I told you I have someone.” He smacked my hand away without even blinking. The phone clattered onto the hardwood floor. He looked at my mother instead and said to make sure the wedding favors were from Maison Blanc. Stella always loved their macarons. My parents chimed in instantly. They said it was a beautiful way to include Stella in the ceremony. My chest heaved. I told them I was not marrying him. Ernie acted completely deaf. He stood up, adjusted his cuffs, and offered a polite nod. “Mr. and Mrs. Astor, I will take my leave.” I raised my voice, calling his full name. He finally looked at me. His eyes were like chipped ice. “My assistant will pick you up tomorrow for your dress fitting. Be on time.” A sickening wave of exhaustion washed over me. He was always exactly like this. He could remember every single reason Stella ever frowned. If her tone over the phone was slightly off, he would drive three hundred miles in the dead of night just to see her. But I was nothing more than a stray dog to him. When he was in a good mood, he might pat my head. When he was upset, I was less than dirt. In his eyes, I had no right to complain, no right to say no, and absolutely no right to exist as my own person. I stared at his retreating back and let my voice drop to a freezing whisper. “Ernie, you do not love me, and I do not love you. There is no need to force this.” His footsteps stopped. He turned around. His brow was heavy with dark annoyance, like he was tolerating a buzzing fly. “Wendy.” His tone was flat. “Playing hard to get is cute once or twice. Anything more than that, and you will drain my patience.” He checked his platinum watch. “Tomorrow. Be on time. Pick a dress in thirty minutes and do not waste my employee’s valuable time.” Our marriage was nothing but an administrative task to him. Something to be handled in thirty minutes. He walked out the door before I could even take a breath. The moment the lock clicked, my father’s face twisted in rage. He screamed at me, asking if I was out of my mind. He demanded to know what garbage I was spouting about having someone else. He said if I ruined this alliance after my sister ran away, the Astor family would be the laughingstock of high society. I stared back at him, my blood boiling. “Stella gets to run away. Why do I have to be the sacrificial lamb?” A sharp crack echoed through the room. The force of my father’s slap threw my head to the side. My cheek burned like fire. He pointed a shaking finger right between my eyes. “Do you really think you are on her level?” “Your sister is brilliant. She knows what she wants. If she wants to leave, I let her leave. But you? What have you ever done besides trail after Ernie like a pathetic puppy?” “He is willing to take you, and you actually have the nerve to put on airs.” My mother sighed heavily from the sofa. “Wendy, throwing a little tantrum is cute, but you need to read the room. No man will put up with a woman who does not know her place.” My father scoffed. He ordered me to go to the fitting tomorrow and apologize to Ernie. I pressed my hand to my stinging cheek and said absolutely nothing. It was a bitter pill to swallow. I was not just Stella’s replacement to Ernie. I was her replacement to my own parents, too. The next day at the bridal boutique, Ernie was a no-show. His executive assistant, Vanessa, escorted me inside while casually picking at her expensive manicure. “Miss Astor, please hurry. Mr. Crawford only authorized thirty minutes for this.” I pointed at the plainest white gown hanging in the corner. “That one. I am in a rush.” Roman was texting me, asking about our venue preferences. Vanessa did not move an inch. “Miss Astor, Mr. Crawford is not here. You can drop the act.” I frowned. She looked at me with a mocking smirk. “You chased him for years. You dreamed of this day. And now you are pretending to be aloof?” “You are just picking a cheap dress on purpose so I will call him, hoping he will feel guilty and rush over here to comfort you.” She laughed out loud. “Your pathetic little tricks are exactly what everyone said they were.” I did not know who “everyone” was, and I did not care. I ignored her, grabbed the heavy silk gown, and walked straight into the fitting room. I had just unzipped my skirt and stepped out of it when the thick velvet curtain was violently ripped open from the outside. My nearly naked body was exposed to the entire boutique floor. “Miss Astor!” Vanessa gasped, slapping a hand over her mouth. Her voice was loud enough to echo across the high ceilings. “Why would you throw the curtain open? Do you get off on exposing yourself? Is this how you usually seduce Mr. Crawford?” Dozens of judging eyes snapped toward me, burning into my skin. I snatched the dress up to cover my chest. Without a single second of hesitation, I swung my free hand and slapped her across the face with everything I had. The boutique fell dead silent. Vanessa shrieked. “How dare you hit me?” She whipped out her phone, her voice instantly trembling with fake tears. “Mr. Crawford, I am so sorry. I must have served her poorly. Miss Astor is furious…” Less than ten minutes later, Ernie’s private security detail stormed the floor. Before I could even speak, two massive men grabbed my arms, twisting them behind my back and forcing me to bend forward. A third bodyguard stepped up to Vanessa and bowed his head slightly. He told her Mr. Crawford sent his apologies for her distress. He cast a freezing look at me and muttered that some people needed to learn a lesson. Vanessa wiped her fake tears, a triumphant flush spreading across her cheeks. I was dragged out of the boutique, shoved into the back of a tinted SUV, and driven straight to a remote estate in the hills. They tossed me onto the living room floor like a bag of garbage. My knees slammed into the edge of a marble coffee table. The pain made me gasp for air. Footsteps echoed behind me. Ernie walked in, looking down at me from his towering height. “You are not even my wife yet, and you are already throwing your weight around?” His gaze was completely devoid of warmth. “Let me make something very clear. The women who scrub my floors have more status in my world than you do.” “You better learn to play nice with my staff, or your life after the wedding will be a living hell.” My fingernails dug into my palms. “Your assistant ripped the curtain open while I was changing. She exposed me on purpose.” “Enough.” He cut me off, a flicker of pure disgust crossing his face. “Have you ever considered that you are the problem? When your sister was by my side, my staff never acted like this.” He turned on his heel and barked an order at the guards by the door. “Cut the water and the power. Let her sit in the dark and think about what she has done for three days.” I lunged for the door, but the heavy oak slammed shut right in my face. The deadbolt clicked. Three full days. I grew so thirsty I drank the stale, murky water sitting in a crystal flower vase. I was so starved I ripped the bitter leaves off a decorative potted plant and chewed them until my jaw ached. I lost track of time. Eventually, the electronic keypad on the front door beeped. A tall figure stumbled inside, reeking of expensive scotch. It was Ernie. His glassy eyes locked onto me where I was curled up in the corner of the dark room. He suddenly dropped to his knees and crushed his burning lips against mine. My entire body froze into a block of ice. A second later, his lips brushed against mine as he whispered. “Stella.” That single name felt like a jagged blade twisting into my chest. I shoved him away with the last ounce of strength I had left in my starving body. My voice was trembling. “Look at me, Ernie. Look at exactly who I am.” He blinked, his eyes finally focusing on my face in the dim moonlight. He leaned in again, his mouth curving into a cruel sneer. “Congratulations. You finally have me exactly where you want me. You must be dying of excitement.” I pulled my knee up and drove it violently into his stomach. I snatched a silver fruit knife off the coffee table and gripped the handle tight. “Do not touch me.” Ernie’s face darkened instantly. He stared at me for several long seconds. Then, a cold laugh escaped his throat. “I have to admit, you play the tortured victim quite well.” My grip on the knife stiffened. “All this playing hard to get… you are just copying your sister’s personality to turn me on, aren’t you?” He lunged forward and gripped my jaw, his fingers digging into my skin. “Drop the pathetic act. You will never replace her.” “Take your clothes off. Do your job tonight, and I will give you the dignity of being my wife. Otherwise.” Before he could finish his threat, I swung my arm. The blade sliced across his forearm. Hot blood immediately soaked through the crisp white fabric of his dress shirt. I stared dead into his eyes. “I said, do not touch me.” Ernie looked down at his bleeding arm in absolute disbelief. When he looked back up at me, a terrifying rage was boiling in his eyes. “Fine, Wendy.” He laughed, a dark, venomous sound, and stood up. “Do not regret this.” He walked out, leaving the front door wide open. I stumbled out into the cold night air and somehow made it back to my family’s house. The moment I walked in, my father hurled his porcelain teacup at my feet. It shattered into a hundred pieces. “You stabbed Ernie?” His finger shook as he pointed it at my face. I tried to explain, my breathing ragged. “He locked me up for three days. No food, no water. He tried to force himself.” “It is a privilege that he even wants to touch you.” My mother cut me off, her face twisted in disappointment. “So what if he locked you up? You are about to be his wife. If he wants to lock you up for the rest of your life, you smile and take it.” My father stepped closer. “You are nothing compared to your sister. Why won’t you use your body to tie him down while you still have your youth? How did I raise such a useless idiot?” I looked back and forth between their furious faces. It felt like a giant hand had reached into my chest, squeezing my heart until every last drop of warmth was gone. My father slammed his hand on the dining table. “You will stay in your room until the wedding. Learn some manners so you do not embarrass us any further.” Three days later, on Wednesday, the wedding day arrived. My parents practically dragged me to the cathedral. Nine o’clock passed. Then ten. Then eleven. Ernie did not show up. The pews were packed with New York’s elite, and the whispers grew deafening. “I heard Ernie found a girl downtown who looks just like Stella.” “Yeah, apparently she threw a fit this morning and refused to walk. Ernie carried her into his corner office in front of the whole board. They are probably still in there.” “Wow. So what happens to the Astor girl?” My father stood behind me. He threw his glass of champagne onto the marble floor. “When Stella was around, Ernie never dared to pull a stunt like this.” He grabbed a handful of my veil and yanked my head back. “You useless piece of trash. You are making us look like fools.” My mother sat beside me, dabbing fake tears with a tissue. “I gave birth to both of you. How did you turn out so defective? You cannot even keep a man’s attention for one day.” I sat in the front pew, perfectly still. The heavy oak doors creaked open. Vanessa walked in, a smug smile plastered across her face. Behind her, a bodyguard was struggling to hold a massive, mud-covered hunting hound on a thick leather leash. He let the dog go, and it immediately shook itself, splattering wet mud all over my pure white gown. The smell of wet dog and swamp dirt filled the air. “Mr. Crawford was delayed by an urgent matter,” Vanessa announced, projecting her voice. “Miss Astor, you will have to walk down the aisle with Duke. Mr. Crawford will arrive later for the ring exchange.” My father shot out of his seat. “Walk down the aisle with a dog? Are you out of your mind?” Vanessa crossed her arms. “Mr. Crawford said she marries the dog, or the wedding is off. Your call.” My father’s protests died in his throat. He glared at me with pure venom, blaming me for every ounce of humiliation he was feeling. My mother shoved my shoulder. “Listen to Ernie.” A twisted sense of relief washed over her face. “Thank God it is you up there. If Stella had to go through this, it would break my heart.” I looked at her. I did not say a single word. I looked down at my phone, dropped a location pin to Roman, and locked the screen. I linked my arm through my father’s and walked down the long, agonizing aisle toward the muddy dog. He handed me off to the hound. Behind me, the sound of camera shutters and muffled laughter echoed through the vaulted ceilings. “She is so desperate for his money.” “She brought this on herself. She chased him for twenty years. She would probably marry a pig if it meant getting the Crawford last name.” Just as the priest cleared his throat to start the mockery of a ceremony, the deafening roar of a sports car engine rattled the stained glass windows. I stood up and turned toward the entrance. Ernie stepped out of a sleek black car. In his hand, he held a pair of sharp steel scissors. “Stella cut her hair into a bob today. She is vacationing in Monaco.” He walked up the aisle and held the scissors out to me. “Cut your hair. Take off the dress. Put on some jeans and a T-shirt.” I stood my ground. I did not move. My father shoved me hard from behind. “What are you waiting for? Do what he says.” I still did not move. My eyes drifted past the crowd, looking out the massive open doors toward the winding coastal highway below the church. Ernie let out a cold laugh. “You really never learn, do you?” “Wendy, save your cheap tricks. Do you honestly think acting stubborn is going to make me desire you?” He threw the scissors at my chest. They clattered to the stone floor. “Playing hard to get is only fun until you become a pathetic joke.” I kept my mouth shut. My ears caught a new sound. The deep, heavy rumble of motorcycles. Slowly, a flash of brilliant red appeared on the horizon. A custom Ducati tore up the mountain road, kicking up a storm of dust. And right behind it was an endless, terrifying convoy of over a hundred matte-black luxury SUVs. “Who is that?” “What is going on? Did someone else rent out the mountain today?” The guests erupted into a frenzy of panicked whispers. Ernie’s brow furrowed into a deep, angry V. I stepped over the scissors and walked straight toward the church doors. Ernie’s face went dark. “Wendy. Get back here right now. Do not test my temper.” I ignored him completely. The red motorcycle skidded to a halt right in front of the cathedral steps. In one fluid motion, the rider wrapped a strong arm around my waist and pulled me flush against him. Behind us, over a hundred black cars laid on their horns in perfect unison. The sky exploded. Daylight fireworks shot into the air, raining gold and crimson smoke over the entire estate.

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I always thought I was an ordinary high school student—until a third eye opened at the back of my head. This eye has no blind spots. It sees through people, and it caught my scumbag father cheat with my vicious tutor in the act. They didn’t just want to kill my dying mother—they wanted to stage an “accident” and sacrifice me, all to cash in a expensive insurance payout and buy a house for their bastard son. Cute. They really thought I was a pushover? So I flipped the script and started the hunt. But when I finally stood over their corpses, thinking I could reunite with my mom at last, I uncovered a truth that froze my blood. I’m not a human at all. “Clara Croft, are you hiding? Daddy’s coming to find you!” Walter Croft’s gentle voice drifted in from outside the bedroom door. I clamped a hand over my mouth, crammed into the huge closet in the master bedroom, not daring to breathe. Today was my fourteenth birthday. Dad had taken half a day off specially, saying he wanted to play my favorite game—hide and seek. Just as I waited, giddy, for him to pull the closet door open, a tearing, stabbing pain shot through the back of my skull. Then a strange new field of vision unfolded in my mind. I could see straight through the closet’s thick wooden door—clear as day, I saw everything outside. At the back of my head, a third eye had opened. Walter wasn’t looking for me at all. He yanked his tie loose, desperate, and pulled my young, pretty private math tutor, Evelyn Hayes, into his arms. The two of them tumbled straight onto the big bed where my mom slept. “You devil, your daughter’s still home!” Evelyn scolded coyly, giving him a push—but her eyes were pure seduction. “What’s there to worry about? That girl’s clueless. She’s probably crammed in some corner right now, holding her breath.” Walter sneered, his hand already sliding under Evelyn’s skirt. My whole body went cold. My stomach churned. My mom was lying in the ICU, hovering between life and death, and my so-called wonderful father—the one who normally preached morality and never even raised his voice at me—was rolling around in her bed with another woman. I bit down hard on my lip, forcing back the urge to burst out and claw those two hypocritical faces apart. The third eye recorded it all like an HD camera, no blind spots. When they were finished, Evelyn lay against Walter’s chest, tracing little circles with her finger. “When is your wife actually going to die? Didn’t the doctor say it’d be any day now? This baby in my belly can’t wait. You really want your son born as a bastard?” A flash of cruelty crossed Walter’s eyes. “Soon. I’ve already paid off the people at the hospital. Cutting her meds is a matter of days. As for that little dead weight, Clara…” He paused, and his tone turned so cold it sent ice through me. “I took out a high-value accidental death policy on her, I’m the beneficiary. Next week I’ll take her for a drive on the mountain roads. The brakes just have to ‘fail’ a little. We lose the burden, and the payout’s enough to buy our son a big downtown apartment in cash.” Evelyn’s eyes lit up. She smacked a kiss on him. “Babe, you’re so smart! Then we’ll send the mother and daughter off together. At least they’ll have company on the way down.” I crouched in the dark closet, shaking like a leaf. Not from fear. From excitement. A bloodthirsty kind of excitement. You want to kill me? Fine. Let’s see who dies first.

I pretended nothing had happened. By the time I climbed out of the closet, the two of them were dressed together. Walter patted my head, all tenderness. “Clara, you’re so good at this. Daddy looked forever and couldn’t find you. Come on, let’s go see Mom at the hospital.” I nodded obediently, pulling a sweet smile across my lips. “Thanks, Dad.” At the hospital, the room reeked of disinfectant. My mom, Diane Croft, was wasted to nothing, her eyes sunk deep in their sockets—like a withered yellow rose. When she saw us, a faint light flickered in her clouded eyes. Walter instantly put on a face of tender devotion, taking my mom’s hand, his eyes going red. “Diane, how are you feeling today? Clara came to see you.” I looked at his sickening expression and sneered inside. I walked to the bedside and took my mom’s other hand, thin as a stick. Her hand was cold, without a trace of warmth. “Mom, I’m fine, don’t worry,” I said softly. She looked at me, her eyes full of longing and reluctance. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but in the end only shook her head weakly. I couldn’t tell her about Walter and Evelyn’s plot. Her body couldn’t take a blow like that right now. When we left the hospital, Walter took a call. His face shifted, and he made an excuse about an urgent matter at the company and rushed off. I knew it. He was going to see Evelyn. I walked home alone, my mind racing. I was only fourteen. Call the police? With no evidence, who’d believe a fourteen-year-old girl? Tell them I’d grown an eye on the back of my head? They’d just lock me up as a psych case. If the law couldn’t punish them, then I’d do it myself. I got in touch with a seller on the dark web and paid a steep price for a few packets of high-dose rat poison. Back home, I dumped all of it into the single malt whiskey Walter loved. That done, I sat on the couch and quietly waited for my prey to come home. But for days, Walter didn’t touch that bottle. Evelyn was even more wary. Every time she came over, she wouldn’t drink so much as a glass of water. They seemed to have sensed something. And what I sensed was far more dangerous than that.

On the weekend, Walter suddenly suggested taking me hiking in the countryside. “Clara, school’s been stressful lately. Daddy wants to take you somewhere to relax.” He smiled, all warmth. I sneered inside. Here it comes. Mountain roads. Accident insurance. Brake failure. Only he didn’t know—this time, I was the one who’d set the trap. “Okay, thanks, Dad.” I slung my backpack on and climbed into the car, obedient. The car pulled out of the city. The roads grew emptier, the scenery on both sides more and more desolate. Walter drove faster and faster. At a sharp turn, he suddenly wrenched the wheel hard, sending the car straight toward the edge of the cliff. “Oh no! The brakes are out!” he shouted, faking panic. Just as the car was about to break through the guardrail, he shoved the driver’s door open and jumped out. My door, on the other side, had been locked from the start. Bang! The car slammed hard into a big tree at the cliff’s edge. Smoke billowed from the hood, and then flames leapt up. The fire spread fast. The temperature inside the car shot up. I beat at the window, putting on a show of terror, screaming my lungs out: “Dad! Help me! Dad!” Walter stood a few yards from the car, watching me coldly. There wasn’t a trace of pity in his eyes—only the giddy thrill of getting what he wanted. “Clara, don’t blame Daddy. Blame yourself for standing in your brother’s way. Get a better life next time around.” The fire swallowed the cabin completely. The smoke choked me until I couldn’t open my eyes. The heat seared my skin. Just as I thought I really was about to burn to death, a miracle happened. A faint blue glow rose over the surface of my body, sealing the flames and smoke out. I didn’t feel any pain. Even my breathing came easier. What was going on? Was I not made of flesh and blood after all? Before I could think it through, the car suddenly went up in a violent explosion. Everything went black, and I lost consciousness.

When I woke again, I was in a hospital bed. The harsh fluorescent light made my head spin. “A miracle! It’s nothing short of a miracle! A fire that size, and this child only has a few surface burns!” The doctor’s astonished voice rang in my ears. I slowly opened my eyes and saw Walter standing by the bed, his face white as paper. When he saw me wake, he looked like he’d seen a ghost and jerked back a step. A police officer came over with the routine questions. “Sweetheart, do you remember how the crash happened?” I looked at Walter, the corner of my mouth curling into a sneer too faint to catch. He swallowed nervously, his eyes full of pleading. “Officer, I… I can’t remember clearly. I only remember the car suddenly went out of control, and then it caught fire. My dad got hurt trying to save me.” I put on a weak, frail act, tears rolling down my cheeks. The officer comforted me a little, then turned to Walter. “Mr. Croft, you’re lucky your daughter survived. But we’ll be investigating the cause further, so please stay available to cooperate.” After the officer left, only Walter and I remained in the room. The air was dead silent. “What… what exactly do you want?” Walter’s voice trembled. The way he looked at me was the way you’d look at a monster. I put the tears away and fixed him with an icy stare. “Walter, did you really think your plan was airtight? When you jumped out of the car, I saw every bit of it.” His legs went weak; he nearly dropped to the floor. “Clara, Daddy was wrong! Daddy lost my mind for a moment! Won’t you forgive me?” He threw himself at the bedside, begging, a mess of snot and tears. “Forgive you? Sure.” I sneered. “I want you to change the beneficiary on that accident policy to my name. Right now. And I want a supplementary card with no limit. Otherwise, I tell the police exactly how you tried to murder your own daughter.” Walter nodded over and over like a man granted a pardon. “Yes! Yes! Daddy will do whatever you say!” The moment I had the money and the insurance, the first thing I did was go to a flower shop and buy a big bunch of the brightest yellow roses. Then I went to my mom’s hospital room. I pushed the door open and froze. The room was thick with the scent of roses. In the vase by my mom’s bed, there was already a fresh bunch of yellow roses. “Mom, did someone come to see you?” I asked, startled. When she saw me, panic flashed in her eyes. She struggled upright and grabbed my hand, her voice urgent. “Clara, listen to me. You’re in danger right now. Go! Get away from here!” I was completely lost. “Mom, what are you talking about? I’ve already got Walter under control. He wouldn’t dare hurt me.” She shook her head, tears spilling over. With trembling hands, she fished a silver fidget spinner out from under her pillow and pressed it into my palm. “Take this! Spin it counterclockwise three times and you can go back to the past. Spin it clockwise three times and you can go to the future. Remember—you only get three chances. Run! Run as far as you can!” I stared at the finely made spinner in my hand and was sure the illness had muddled her mind. “Mom, don’t scare me…” “Clara, happy birthday, my baby.” She suddenly cupped my face and pressed a cold kiss to my forehead. The next second, the heart monitor let out a piercing, drawn-out wail. A flat line. My mom was dead.

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My brother was only nineteen when he was sent to prison. He stole three pounds of beef from the local butcher shop because our mother had been starving in bed for three days. The butcher insisted on pressing charges and threw my brother to the cops. My mother dragged her sick body to the butcher’s doorstep, dropping to her knees to beg him to drop the case. The owner spat a thick wad of phlegm onto the dirt right next to her. “Stealing is stealing. Three pounds is still a crime.” My brother got a year behind bars. By the time he was released, our mother was already dead. He lost his mind. He was completely, irreversibly broken. Thirty years later, I am the CEO of my own company. One afternoon, a gray-haired old man was brought into my office. His son had embezzled fifty thousand dollars of company funds, and I had handed him straight to the police. The old man’s hands shook violently as he pulled a thick stack of medical records from his pocket. “Boss, I have kidney failure. He is my only son.” “Please, show some mercy. He knows he messed up.” I flipped through the medical files. I saw that painfully familiar name at the top of the page. I slowly raised my eyes. “A crime is a crime. Fifty thousand dollars is still a crime.” 1 “Brian, don’t you think that is a little too cold-blooded?” The office door was violently shoved open. My fiancé and the company’s Vice President, Tristan, marched into the room. His suit jacket was draped over his arm, his brows knitted together in deep disapproval. His leather shoes made no sound against the plush carpet, but his entire aura was aggressively overbearing. “It is only fifty grand. That is pocket change for this company. Do you really need to push a man to the brink of death?” Kneeling on the floor, Gary was shaking uncontrollably. The moment he saw Tristan, his eyes lit up like he had seen a savior. He scrambled across the floor, practically throwing himself at Tristan’s legs, his wails growing even louder. “Please, sir! You have to help me!” “My boy is a good kid! He only did something so stupid because he was trying to pay for my medical bills!” Sobbing, Gary pulled up his faded, yellowed shirt. He exposed a shriveled stomach covered in a dense cluster of needle marks. “Look at this! I have end-stage kidney failure. The dialysis alone costs a fortune every month.” “Derek just could not bear to see his old man suffer! I am the one dragging him down!” Tristan stared at those bruised needle marks. A flash of profound sympathy crossed his eyes. He bent down and gently pulled Gary to his feet. “Please stand up, sir. The floor is cold.” He turned his head, shooting me a blistering, judgmental glare. “Brian! Look at how sick this man is. Do you not have a single shred of empathy left?” “Derek has busted his ass for this company for three years. Even if he made a mistake, he has put in the work.” “He took that money to save his dying father. That is completely justifiable!” I watched their touching little master-and-servant performance. I tapped my index finger against the mahogany desk twice. “Justifiable? If everyone justified stealing like that, how exactly are we supposed to run a business?” “Section three of our corporate handbook is crystal clear. Any embezzlement over ten thousand dollars is immediately handed over to the authorities.” “Tristan, as the Vice President, did you somehow forget the absolute baseline of our company policies?” Tristan’s face darkened. “Rules are rigid. People are alive.” “We are at a critical stage right before our IPO.” “If we send a devoted son to prison over fifty grand when he was just trying to save his dad, how do you think the media will spin it?” “They will brand us as bloodsucking corporate vultures. They will say we drove an old man with kidney failure to his grave!” “Have you even calculated the catastrophic PR nightmare this will cause?” I stared right into Tristan’s self-righteous face. “A corporate image is built on following the law. Not on harboring criminals.” “He stole money from this company. That is a crime.” “Needing medical treatment does not give him a free pass to embezzle.” Gary stood off to the side, wiping his tears. His cloudy eyes secretly sized me up. “Ms. Brian, I know you are a big shot. You don’t need this kind of chump change.” “If you just drop the charges and let my son go, we will sell everything we own to pay you back!” “I will bow down to you!” He made a dramatic motion to drop to his knees again. Tristan grabbed his arm to stop him, whipping his head around to scream at me. “Brian, will you only be satisfied when you force this man into a coffin?!” “I know you are ruthless in the boardroom, but do you have to be this heartless to a dying old man?” The blinds in my office were not fully closed. Out in the bullpen, several employees were craning their necks, whispering and watching the spectacle. Tristan took a deep breath. He seemed to make a decision. He straightened his posture and adjusted his tie. “You are off this case.” “As the Vice President, I have the authority to handle crisis management.” “I will have the legal department drop the charges immediately. We will also issue a five-thousand-dollar donation to Gary as a humanitarian gesture from the company.” I looked at him. A dry laugh bubbled up in my throat. “You want to use my company’s money to buy yourself some good karma?” “What makes you think you can bypass me and issue that order?” Tristan shoved his hands into his pockets. Absolute arrogance dripped from his eyes. “Because I am your fiancé. And I am the second-in-command.” “Brian, women shouldn’t be so aggressively stubborn. You need to know when to back down.” “Listen to me on this. It is the best move for you and the company.” He turned back to Gary, his tone softening into something gentle. “Sir, you go home and get some rest. I personally guarantee Derek’s situation will be sorted out by this afternoon.” Gary trembled with intense excitement. He took two steps back, bowing repeatedly. “Thank you, Mr. Tristan! You are a living saint!” “God bless you!” Right before he walked out the door, he shot me one last look. There was no gratitude in his eyes. Only a smug, victorious provocation. The office door clicked shut. I kept my eyes on Tristan. “Tristan, are you absolutely sure you want to shield a criminal?” Tristan walked up to my desk, looking down at me from his high horse. “I am saving our company’s reputation. And I am teaching you how to be a decent human being.” 2 “Teaching me?” I leaned back in my leather chair, silently studying Tristan. His eyes were swollen with self-important superiority. He genuinely believed he was some compassionate savior descending from the heavens. Tristan ignored my sarcastic question. He turned around, walked over to my desk, and picked up the intercom phone. “Tell Lawson from Legal to come to my office immediately. Bring the corporate seals and draft a formal letter of forgiveness.” He hung up the receiver and looked back at me. “Brian, the decision is made. Stop throwing a tantrum.” “Once Derek is released, I will make him apologize to you in person. Then we can finally put this behind us.” I didn’t say a word. I simply opened my desk drawer and pulled out a sleek black lockbox. I punched in the code and popped the lid. Resting quietly on the velvet lining were the official corporate seals and my personal signature stamp. Tristan’s face dropped. “What are you doing?” I snapped the box shut and rested my hand flat on top of it. “I am making myself perfectly clear. Without my signature and my stamp, Legal cannot issue a single valid document.” “Derek’s case will not be dropped. I am never signing a letter of forgiveness.” Tristan slammed his hand against my desk. “Brian, you are being completely unreasonable!” “Do you have any idea how pathologically cold-blooded you look right now?” “I am starting to wonder if you even have a heart beating in your chest!” He pointed a finger right at my nose, his chest heaving with dramatic rage. “Let me make this clear. If you refuse to back down today, I will call a board meeting and have you removed from your position!” “Be my guest.” I turned to my laptop and pulled up my schedule for the day. “I have a meeting in ten minutes. The door is right behind you. Don’t let it hit you on the way out.” Tristan stormed out in a blind fury, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the glass panes. Silence finally returned to the room. But I knew it was just the quiet before the storm. Sure enough, less than two hours later, the situation spiraled completely out of control. My secretary, Sarah, burst into the office in a total panic. “Brian, it is bad! You need to look at this live stream right now!” I took the tablet from her shaking hands. On the screen, Gary was sitting cross-legged right in the middle of our company’s ground-floor lobby. He was wearing a massive cardboard sign around his neck. The black marker read: HEARTLESS FEMALE CEO DRIVES SICK OLD MAN TO DEATH. Standing right next to him was a young woman holding up a phone on a tripod. It was his daughter, Hailey. “Listen to me, guys! You need to expose this evil corporation!” Hailey cried into the camera, tears streaming down her face. “My dad has kidney failure. He needs dialysis every month. My brother was desperate to save our dad, so he made a stupid mistake and borrowed some money from work.” “We begged them! We promised to sell our house to pay it back! But the CEO, Brian, is demanding my brother be locked up in prison!” “She is trying to destroy our entire family!” Right on cue, Gary clutched his chest and broke into a violent, hacking cough, acting as if he were taking his dying breath. The viewer count in the live stream had already broken one hundred thousand. The chat was moving at warp speed. “What a bloodsucking vampire!” “Fifty grand for a human life? Capitalists have zero conscience!” “Dox her! Bankrupt her company!” “Boycott all their products!” My phone started vibrating violently against the desk. An endless stream of unknown numbers flooded the screen, hurling abusive messages. I just held down the power button and shut it off. The office door was kicked open again. Tristan charged in, completely unhinged. He snatched the tablet from Sarah’s hands and smashed it down onto my desk. The screen shattered instantly. “Look at what you have done!” Tristan pointed at my face, screaming at the top of his lungs. “Our stock just dropped three points in the last ten minutes! Millions of dollars in valuation just vanished into thin air!” “My phone is blowing up with furious investors!” “Is this what your precious principles get us?!” I glanced at the spiderweb cracks on the screen. “They are trespassing and causing a disturbance in our lobby. Why haven’t the security guards thrown them out?” “Throw them out?” Tristan barked out a harsh, manic laugh. “The lobby is swarming with clout-chasing vloggers and cameras right now! You touch them, and see what happens!” “The second a guard lays a finger on that old man, the media will brand us as a violent crime syndicate by tomorrow morning!” He leaned over the desk, glaring at me like a cornered animal. “Brian, as the Vice President of this company, I am ordering you to come downstairs with me right now!” “You are going to apologize to Gary in front of every single camera down there!” “And you are going to sign that letter of forgiveness right on the spot!” I looked up, meeting his frantic gaze head-on. “I didn’t do anything wrong. Why would I apologize?” Tristan froze. He genuinely could not comprehend how I was still standing my ground. “Are you insane?! Do you want to drag this entire company into the grave with you?!” “Brian, I usually let you have your stubborn little moments, but this is a matter of life and death for our business!” He took a massive breath. His tone dropped into a sinister, icy threat. “If you do not go down there and apologize, I will use the board of directors to suspend your authority as CEO.” “And another thing.” He paused, his eyes narrowing into a vicious glare. “If you don’t go down there right now, the wedding is off.” Sarah was backed into the corner of the room, too terrified to even breathe. I stared at the man I had been engaged to for two years. He was using our marriage as a bargaining chip to force me to bow down to a criminal. I stood up and smoothed out the hem of my blazer. “Fine. The wedding is off.” 3 “What did you just say?” Tristan stood frozen in place. The furious color instantly drained from his face. He probably thought my desperation for marriage was my ultimate weakness. He thought dropping the ultimate ultimatum would force me to surrender immediately. “I said, the wedding is off.” I repeated it slowly, keeping my voice perfectly flat. “As for my suspension, feel free to convene the board whenever you want. Assuming you can scrape together a majority vote.” Tristan’s face shifted from green to pale white. His finger trembled as he pointed at me. “Brian, do not regret this! You really think you can keep this empire running without me?!” “You are just bluffing to save face. Let me tell you right now, I am done tolerating your ego!” He spun on his heel and stormed out, slamming the door so hard the walls vibrated. I sank back into my chair and rubbed my throbbing temples. Suddenly, the landline on my desk rang. “Hello, is this the family of Jack?” An urgent, panicked female voice came through the speaker. “This is the West End Psychiatric Facility. Your brother was severely triggered a few minutes ago. He went into a manic episode and smashed his head against the wall.” “He needs stitches right now. You need to get here immediately!” “I am on my way!” I grabbed my car keys, sprinting out of the office. I blew through two red lights and screeched into the hospital parking lot. The second I stepped into the inpatient hallway, a shrill, hysterical voice echoed off the linoleum walls. “Don’t you dare block me! I am going to show everyone exactly how this psychopath beats people up!” “His sister is trying to murder my dad, and he is sitting here faking insanity to assault people!” I shoved my way through the crowd of nurses and patients. At the end of the hall, my brother Jack was pinned down on a bench by two large orderlies. Thick layers of gauze were wrapped around his forehead. Fresh, bright red blood was already seeping through, staining the white fabric. He was violently shaking, mumbling incoherently through chattering teeth. “I won’t steal anymore. I promise I won’t steal again. Please don’t hit my mom…” And right there, shoving her phone aggressively into my bleeding brother’s face, was Hailey. She was practically shouting into the lens. “Look at this, guys! This is the evil CEO’s actual brother!” “He is an absolute lunatic! He just tried to strangle me!” The blood rushed straight to my brain. I lunged forward, snatched the phone right out of Hailey’s grip, and smashed it mercilessly against the concrete floor. The screen exploded into a million shards. Hailey shrieked and jumped back. “What are you doing?! You have no right to break my phone!” She lunged at me like a feral cat, her manicured nails aiming straight for my eyes. I sidestepped her sloppy attack, raised my hand, and slapped her hard across the cheek. The crack echoed sharply down the corridor. Hailey stumbled, completely stunned. She clutched her red cheek, staring at me in pure disbelief. “You hit me. You actually hit me!” She threw herself onto the dirty floor and started thrashing around, kicking her legs. “Murder! The evil boss is trying to murder me!” Heavy, frantic footsteps echoed from the other end of the hall. “Stop it right now!” Tristan sprinted over, breathless. He didn’t even glance at my brother, whose head was still leaking blood. He went straight to Hailey, wrapping an arm around her shoulder to pull her up. “Hailey, are you okay?” Tristan’s voice was dripping with intense, protective concern. There was absolutely no way these two were just strangers or ’employee and family’. Hailey immediately collapsed against Tristan’s chest, sobbing into his shirt. “Tristan, she hit me! She smashed my phone into pieces and slapped me!” “I just came here to check on her brother. How was I supposed to know he was a dangerous psycho who attacks people unprovoked…” Tristan whipped his head around, his eyes burning with disgust. “Brian, have you completely lost your mind?! Why the hell did you break her phone?!” “She is just a naive young girl! Why are you bullying her?!” “Your brother is a certified lunatic. For all we know, he bashed his own head against the wall just to cause a scene!” I watched Tristan instinctively shield Hailey with his body. I looked at his absurd, self-righteous expression, and the absolute last shred of warmth I had for him turned to ice. “She intentionally triggered my brother. Smashing her phone is letting her off easy.” I pointed a rigid finger at Hailey. “She showed up at a psychiatric ward with a live stream, deliberately provoking a severely mentally ill patient.” “Tristan, are you legally blind?” Tristan shoved Hailey further behind him. “Brian, stop spewing venom! Hailey is innocent. She doesn’t understand how these things work!” “You are so consumed by hatred you have become completely unhinged!” He pointed dismissively at my brother. “Look at him. He is a pathetic ghost. All he does is drag you down and cause nightmares for everyone around him!” “Besides, he is literally insane. Who knows if he didn’t just snap and attack her?!” 4 Hailey peeked out from behind Tristan’s broad shoulders, a sickeningly smug smile pulling at the corner of her lips. The elevator doors chimed at the end of the hall. Gary slowly limped out, leaning heavily on a cane, supported by two people. His cloudy eyes locked onto Jack’s blood-soaked bandages. A flash of pure, venomous malice crossed his shriveled face. “Oh my, how on earth did that happen?” He let out a fake, dramatic sigh, hobbling closer to drop his voice into a sinister whisper. “Brian, look at your brother. That is what we call karma.” “You can’t be too ruthless in this life. You push people to the edge, and the heavens will strike you down.” I curled my hands into tight fists, my nails biting deeply into my palms. A nurse walked over holding a clipboard. “Family of Jack? The laceration is very deep. We need to suture it immediately.” “We also need an emergency CT scan to rule out internal bleeding.” “Please go down to the first-floor billing department right now. The total is eight thousand six hundred dollars.” I snatched the invoice from her and pulled out a joint debit card from my wallet. It was a dedicated medical account Tristan and I had set up specifically to cover Jack’s facility bills. I ran downstairs to the billing window and handed the card to the clerk. She swiped it once. Her brow furrowed. “Ma’am, this card has been frozen.” I froze. “That is impossible. There is over a hundred grand in that account.” The clerk slid the card back under the glass. “The system shows the primary account holder reported it lost and froze the assets thirty minutes ago.” The primary account holder was Tristan. I grabbed the card and spun around to face the lobby. Tristan was slowly walking down the grand staircase. He held a thin stack of papers in his right hand. Gary and Hailey were following closely behind him like loyal shadows. Tristan stopped right in front of me and held out the papers. It was the legal letter of forgiveness. “Brian. All you have to do is sign your name right here.” Tristan’s voice was eerily calm. He possessed the sickening confidence of a man who held all the winning cards. “The second you sign, I will make the call to unfreeze the account.” “And your brother can get his life-saving surgery.” I stared dead into his eyes. “You are using my brother’s medical emergency to blackmail me?” Tristan frowned, acting highly offended by my phrasing. “Don’t make it sound so ugly. I am looking out for the big picture here.” “Your brother’s life matters, but Gary’s life matters too.” “Sign the paper. Everyone wins.” Gary leaned heavily on his cane, shuffling forward until his rotting breath hit my ear. “You stupid little bitch. Did you really think becoming a CEO meant you could step on me?” “Thirty years ago, your mother smashed her forehead against the concrete outside my butcher shop, and I still didn’t bat an eye.” “Let’s see if you drop to your knees today.” He pulled his lips back, exposing a row of yellowed, decaying teeth. “If you don’t sign, your brother bleeds out. I have all the time in the world. Let’s see if your brother does.” The memories of thirty years ago violently crashed into my brain. The greasy cobblestones. My mother’s agonizing wails. The thick wad of spit Gary shot onto the dirt. The sheer terror in my brother’s eyes as the police shoved him into the cruiser. It all played out perfectly clear in my mind. I looked at Gary’s twisted face. I looked at Tristan’s arrogant, triumphant smirk. I reached into my pocket, pulled out my phone, and dialed a number.

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Three years ago, for the sake of my fiancé Jason Grayson’s bright future, I willingly took the blame for a hit-and-run and went to prison. On the day I was sentenced, he sobbed uncontrollably through the iron bars, swearing that when I got out, he would give me the most magnificent wedding and lay everything he had at my feet. Three years later, I was released early for good behavior. I was overjoyed, wanting to surprise him—only to see on the city’s largest LED screen that he was hosting a live stream with millions of viewers. In the stream, he was tenderly pushing a wheelchair carrying my “sickly” younger sister, Amy Lowe, announcing their engagement to the whole world. I let out a cold laugh, hailed a taxi, and headed straight for that glittering live event. 0″Let’s give a round of applause to Mr. Jason Grayson and Ms. Amy Lowe! Mr. Grayson’s devotion to Ms. Lowe is truly a model of modern romance!” The host’s passionate voice traveled clearly through the heavy doors of the hotel ballroom. I stood outside, glancing down at my faded old clothes, then at the dazzling light spilling through the crack in the door. A bitter, ironic smile tugged at my lips. I pushed open the heavy doors. Before me was a scene of suffocating luxury. Streaming equipment from top influencers was set up all over the venue, with countless cameras aimed at the center of the stage. Jason Grayson stood there in a tailored suit, tall and handsome, wearing that gentle smile I once knew so well. He leaned slightly forward, his hands on the handles of a wheelchair. In it sat my sister Amy, dressed in a pure white gown, her delicate makeup designed to look fragile and ill. “Jason, thank you for taking care of me all these years,” Amy said, her eyes reddening, her voice so frail it seemed a gust of wind could knock her over. “If it weren’t for you, I might not have made it. My sister… if she knew how happy we are now, I’m sure she’d be happy for us too.” “Don’t mention her. Today is our day.” A flicker of barely concealed disgust passed through Jason’s eyes, then he gently slid a diamond ring the size of a pigeon egg onto Amy’s finger. “Amy, I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for all the suffering you’ve endured.” On the big screen, comments scrolled wildly. The whole internet was weeping over this perfect, fairy-tale romance. I took a deep breath and stepped forward, walking into that light that didn’t belong to me. The click of my heels echoed across the marble floor. At first, no one noticed this uninvited guest. Not until I reached the edge of the stage and, from a stunned crew member, took a spare microphone. Screech— A sharp feedback screech cut through the room, drowning out the soft background music. Dead silence. Every camera, every pair of eyes, locked onto me at once. Jason and Amy’s smiles froze on their faces, as if struck by lightning. The color drained from them, leaving them pale as paper. “Mr. Grayson, Ms. Lowe. Quite the performance.” I gripped the microphone, stepped up onto the stage, and walked right up to them, my eyes cutting into Jason’s hypocritical face like knives. “Anyone would think I’d died in there.” “Amanda?! How… how are you out?!” Jason was the first to react. He instinctively shielded Amy behind him, his handsome face twisting with fear and rage. “Security! Where the hell is security?! Get this crazy woman out of here! Cut the stream! Now!” I watched the panic in his eyes, and it felt incredibly satisfying. Crazy woman? Yeah, in their eyes, I went to prison for him, and seeing this, I was supposed to throw a tantrum like a hysterical mess. But I wouldn’t. I turned to the camera, flashing a brilliant smile, my voice steady and clear: “Hello, everyone watching online, and all the media friends here. My name is Amanda Lowe. I’m the former girlfriend of this deeply devoted Mr. Jason Grayson. And I’m also the ex-convict who took the blame for his hit-and-run three years ago—and was just released from prison.” The ballroom erupted like a bomb had gone off. “Oh my god! She took the blame?!” “What did she just say? Jason Grayson was the one who did the hit-and-run?!” “This is huge! Record it! Hurry!” The security guards froze, unsure what to do. “Sis…” Amy finally snapped out of it. She struggled to stand halfway from her wheelchair, then collapsed back into it weakly, tears streaming down her face like broken beads. “Sis, please don’t say that! I know you hate me for taking Jason, but… but you were the one driving that night! Don’t destroy everything Jason has built just because you’re jealous!” She looked so pitiful, sobbing like that, that it stirred a protective instinct in many of the onlookers. My mother, Karen Shaw, rushed out from somewhere, grabbing my arm with nails digging into my flesh. Through gritted teeth, she hissed at me: “You ungrateful child! You had to show up now of all times?! Your sister is sick—she can’t handle this stress! Are you trying to kill her? Get out of here right now!” I turned to look at my biological mother. Her eyes held only tenderness for her younger daughter—and disgust for her elder one. I yanked my arm free, so hard she stumbled back several steps. “Don’t touch me. You make me sick.” I looked at her coldly, then turned back to Jason, raising the mic to my lips, mimicking the tone he’d used with me three years ago in that visitation room: “Jason, what are you so nervous about? Three years ago, you said to me through that glass—’Amanda, trust me, wait for me.’ So now I’m waiting. And what do I find? You using the money from selling my freedom to marry my sister?” Jason’s body went rigid. Sweat beaded on his forehead. “Amanda, what the hell do you want?!” he hissed, voice low enough for only the three of us to hear. “Is it money? I’ll give it to you! Ten million—is that enough? Take it and get out of the country. Forever.” “Ten million?” I laughed, the sound carrying through the microphone. “Grayson, do you think three years of my life—and an innocent person’s life—is worth ten million?” I stepped back, facing the flashing cameras, and dropped the biggest bomb of the night: “Since my sister says I’m jealous, as her older sister, I should give her an engagement gift. Here it is—the original footage from the dashcam from that accident three years ago, the one you two tried so hard to destroy. Jason, guess what’s on it?” Jason’s pupils shrank. He looked like he’d been plunged into freezing water. The bomb had detonated. I didn’t give them a chance to respond. I tossed the microphone to the floor with a harsh thud. And with everyone’s shocked, curious, and frantic eyes on me, I straightened my back, walked out of the ballroom like a victorious queen, and never looked back. Behind me was utter chaos—and Jason’s furious roar. 0

The night air hit me as soon as I stepped out of the hotel. Only then did I realize my back was soaked through. The rush of revenge faded like the tide, replaced by a deep exhaustion and wariness. I knew that once my words spread online, Jason would come after me like a rabid dog. I had to disappear. Now. I hurried into a dead-end alley with no cameras and was about to pull out my SIM card when my phone screen lit up. A text from an unknown number. Just one line: “The dashcam footage you mentioned—is it the original copy?” My heart sank. My blood ran cold. The only people who knew about that dashcam, aside from me and Jason, were a few of his trusted people from back then. Jason wouldn’t text me like this—he’d just send men to grab me. So who was this? They were in the shadows. I was in the open. Not only did they know I had leverage, but they were even questioning whether I’d been bluffing on that live stream. The word “original” hit me right where it hurt. I didn’t reply. I shut off the phone, yanked out the SIM card, snapped it in half, and flushed it down a sewer grate. I couldn’t go home—that place belongs to Karen and Amy now. I didn’t reach out to any old friends either. I knew Jason’s methods too well. I couldn’t drag anyone else into this. With the little cash I had left, I found a small motel on the outskirts that didn’t require ID, then bought a cheap burner phone and an untraceable prepaid SIM from a used electronics shop. By the time I was done, it was late at night. The room was small and damp, smelling of mold. I sat on the stiff mattress and stared at the neon lights blinking outside the window, my eyes cold and empty. Less than half an hour after I turned on the new phone, it rang. I looked at the unknown number flashing on the screen, let out a cold laugh, and answered. “Amanda, where the hell are you hiding?!” Jason’s voice on the other end was hoarse and distorted with rage and fear. He had already tracked down my new number that fast. I clearly underestimated his reach in this city. “Mr. Grayson, in such a hurry to find me—are you inviting me to your wedding?” I leaned against the wall, my tone light as if we were talking about the weather. “Cut the crap!” Jason was breathing heavily. “Let’s talk. Name your price. How much do you want for the footage? Houses, cars, cash—just name it. But don’t make me do this the hard way. You know what I’m capable of.” “The hard way?” I scoffed. “Like what you did to my brakes three years ago?” Silence. Dead silence on the other end. “Listen to me, Jason.” I dropped the smile, my voice cold as a blade dipped in ice. “Three years ago, you tricked me into taking the fall, promising to take care of my mom and sister. Now, I want the penthouse downtown—the one worth eighty million. By noon tomorrow, I want to see the deed transferred to my name. One dollar short, one minute late, and you’ll be dealing with the police.” “Eighty million?! Amanda, you’re insane! That’s extortion!” Jason completely lost it. With his company’s current cash flow, pulling out eighty million in a single day would be like ripping out his spine.. That was exactly what I wanted—to make him hurt, to make him panic, to make him lose his cool. “Then don’t pay. We’ll see each other in court.” Without another word, I hung up and blocked the number. I could picture him smashing up his office in helpless rage. But this was far from over. I put down the phone. The mysterious text message came back to mind. Then my phone buzzed again. Same unknown number. This time, they were calling. I took a deep breath and answered. “Miss Amanda Lowe, hello.” A low, raspy male voice came through—weary, but sharp. “I’m Leo Meyers. My father was the truck driver killed in that accident three years ago. I think we need to meet.” My eyes went wide. Leo Meyers. The boy who’d stared at me in that courtroom with bloodshot eyes, wanting to tear me apart. 0

Leo’s words hit me like lightning, cutting through the fog. If it was him, it all made sense. He had every motive to investigate the truth, and every reason to hate Jason to the core. “When and where,” I asked with no hesitation. “Tomorrow, 8 a.m. The abandoned auto shop garage south of the city.” I couldn’t sleep all night after I hung up. The next morning, I arrived at that desolate, rusting garage on the south side. The air stank of oil and rust. Leo stepped out from behind a beat-up van. Three years had aged him—stubble, weary lines—but his eyes were as sharp as a hawk’s. He looked at me, his gaze complicated—hatred, yes, but also a trace of curiosity. “Ms. Lowe. Brave of you to come alone,” he said flatly. “You reached out to me. That means you’ve found something. My enemy’s enemy is my friend. Why wouldn’t I come?” I held his gaze without flinching. Leo paused, then pulled a thick stack of papers from his worn backpack and tossed them onto a rusted oil drum. “See for yourself.” I stepped forward and opened the files. After just a few pages, my hands began to tremble uncontrollably. Financial statements. Money trails. A few shady double contracts. “My dad wasn’t just a truck driver,” Leo’s voice echoed through the empty garage, heavy with suppressed rage. “He was an early logistics contractor for Jason’s company. He stumbled onto evidence that Jason was using shell companies to launder money—massive commercial fraud. My dad was an honest man. He was going to report it. And on his way to the police station—that ‘accident’ happened.” My mind went blank. Commercial fraud? Money laundering? Murder?! I stared at those documents. The cold numbers and signatures slithered like vipers. So that wasn’t just a hit-and-run. Jason wasn’t just afraid of jail—he was covering up a premeditated murder. And I, like a complete fool, had taken the fall and even felt grateful to him. A wave of nausea and dread shot up from my feet. “Jason cleaned up the scene well. Cameras were broken and no witnesses,” Leo continued, his voice cracking, eyes bloodshot. “You took the blame. He played the victim’s family and gave me a settlement check like he was being generous. Amanda, do you realize you helped a killer escape justice?” “I didn’t know…” I whispered, my nails digging into my palms so hard they drew blood. “I really didn’t know…” “Now you do.” Leo took a breath, steadying himself. “I’ve been digging for three years. These documents prove financial crimes, but they’re not enough for a murder conviction. But your dashcam footage can change that. If it proves he was driving, proves he hit my father on purpose—then he’s done for.” I looked at Leo, the same fire igniting in my eyes. “Okay. I’ll work with you.” I said each word deliberately. “We’ll make him pay.” After I left Leo, I didn’t go back to the motel. My prison-honed instincts told me I was being followed. I deliberately took a winding route through a residential area, and sure enough, spotted two shady men in black trailing me. Jason was faster than I’d expected. Using my knowledge of the area, I lost them and immediately contacted Leo. He picked me up and took me to a basement apartment he’d rented on the outskirts. “You’re safe here for now.” Leo handed me a bottle of water. “What’s your next move?” I turned on my phone. Online, the tide of public opinion had already flipped completely. Jason’s PR team had moved fast. They’d not only buried the buzz from my live stream, but they’d turned it against me. The top trending post was a video of Amy crying in a hospital bed. Pale and fragile, she said: “My sister was under a lot of stress in prison, her mental health has been unstable. She just loves Jason too much. I don’t blame her—I just hope she gets the help she needs…” Then came my mother Karen’s interview. She wept on camera: “My eldest daughter has always been extreme and violent. I failed to raise her right. I’m so sorry she did this to her sister and brother-in-law…” They’d painted me as a lovesick, mentally unstable lunatic. The comments poured in—thousands of people cursing me. Someone even doxxed me, vowing to take matters into their own hands. “Those animals!” Leo slammed the table. I stared at my mother’s hypocritical face on the screen, and felt nothing. Shockingly calm. When you’re past the point of caring, nothing hurts anymore. “Let them talk.” I turned off my phone, a cold smile curling at my lips. “The higher they climb, the harder they fall. Leo, I need a micro camera and a drone. Tomorrow, I’m sending Jason a special gift.” I used the burner number to text Jason: “Tomorrow 3 p.m. Abandoned chemical plant, west side. Bring five million in cash. Come alone. Otherwise, the dashcam footage goes to every police department in the city.” 0

The abandoned chemical plant on the west side was overgrown and crumbling. I arrived at 2 p.m. I hid the micro camera on a rusted iron shelf on the second floor, with a clear view of the entire open area below. Leo was parked in a car a few miles away, piloting the drone as it circled above the plant, monitoring every movement in the area in real time. So we have a Plan B stand by. At exactly 3 p.m., a black Maybach pulled up in a cloud of dust. The door opened and Jason Grayson stepped out, carrying a silver briefcase. He wore a black trench coat, his eyes dark and predatory. I stood in the shadows on the second floor, watching him coldly. “Amanda! I’m here! Get out here!” His voice echoed through the empty building. I walked down the rusted iron stairs, step by step. The clang of my heels on the metal was sharp and unnerving in the silence. “Mr. Grayson, punctual as always.” I stopped about fifteen feet away. Jason’s eyes were fixed on me, burning with murderous intent. He threw the briefcase on the ground—thud—and flipped it open. Stacks of cash. “Five million. Every dollar.” He ground out the words. “Now give me the footage. Take the money and disappear.” I stared at that suitcase of cash and suddenly started laughing, so hard tears nearly came. “Five million? Jason, are you tipping a waitress?” I stopped laughing, my eyes cutting like blades. “All that money you laundered through shell companies, the life you took to cover it up—that’s worth five million to you?” Jason’s face went pale, his pupils contracting. “What… what the hell are you talking about!” “Am I talking nonsense? Was Leo’s father’s death really an accident?” I stepped closer. “You were afraid he’d report you, so you ran him down on purpose. Then you used my feelings for you to make me take the blame. Jason, you’re a monster.” “Shut up!” Jason, cornered, finally dropped all pretense. He raised his hand and four burly men with iron pipes rushed in from outside, surrounding me. “Amanda, you had your chance! Did you really think I’d come alone?” Jason’s face twisted into a manic grin. “Since you know too much, go keep that dead truck driver company! Beat her—leave her breathing, and find that footage!” The four men closed in. Then, at that exact moment, the factory doors were shoved open again. “Stop! Jason, no!” Amy was in her wheelchair, pushed by my mother Karen, both of them rushing in with panic written all over their faces. “Amy? Mom? What are you two doing here?!” Jason froze. Amy threw herself at Jason, gripping his arm desperately: “Jason, you can’t kill anyone! My sister just made a mistake—please let her go!” Karen rushed forward too, jabbing her finger in my face. “You jinx! Are you really going to drag this whole family down with you?! Just give him what he wants and walk away! If you want to destroy yourself, don’t you dare take us with you!” I stared at the scene unfolding in front of me and felt nothing but a hollow, bitter amusement. How did they know to come here? The answer was obvious — either Amy had been following Jason, or Jason had brought them here on purpose. Amy was putting on a show. In front of Jason, she played the role of the gentle, caring angel. But underneath it all, she couldn’t wait to see me gone. And my mother — she had always been Amy’s most loyal accomplice. “Family?” I laughed coldly and stepped back. From my pocket, I pulled out a black USB drive and held it high. All eyes locked onto that tiny device. Jason’s eyes lit up with greed. “You want it?” I looked at them, a wild smile on my lips. “Amanda, don’t do anything stupid! Give it to me!” Jason lunged forward. “Stay back!” I shouted. Then, in front of all of them, I smashed that USB drive onto the ground. Crack! The USB drive exploded into pieces. I lifted my foot and ground every last fragment into dust with my stiletto heel. Dead silence fell over the room. Jason froze. Amy froze. Karen froze. A few seconds passed, Jason burst into manic laughter: “Hahaha! Amanda, you stupid bitch! You just destroyed your only evidence! Now what are you going to threaten me with?!” He raised his hand and barked at his men: “Grab her! I’ll make her wish she was dead!” I watched his smug, ugly face, completely calm. And then I gave him a look of pure pity. “Jason, do you really think three years in prison rotted my brain?” I smiled, speaking slowly and clearly: “Did you really think I’d carry the original on me? It was a throwaway drive with a couple of pop songs on it.” Jason’s laughter died in his throat. His face went rigid. “Ten minutes ago, the real dashcam footage—along with all the evidence of your financial crimes—was personally handed over to the detectives at the Economic Crimes Division and the Criminal Investigation Division by my partner.”

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When I found out my online boyfriend was actually my stepbrother, I panicked and posted a frantic listing online. Giving away my online boyfriend for free. He’s clingy and talks constantly. We’ve never met in person. Is anyone willing to take him off my hands and meet up with him? Urgent, urgent, urgent! Just then, my stepbrother walked up, a teasing, dark smirk playing on his lips. “Didn’t you say you wanted to bury your face in my chest and kiss me raw the second we met? And now you’re just giving me away to someone else?” I trembled violently and bolted. Later, at a family dinner, in a dimly lit corner, my stepbrother slowly unbuttoned his cuffs and backed me against the wall. “Viv, breaking a promise isn’t a good habit. Come here.” 1 I had spent the last three months dating a guy who was six-foot-two, had an insane six-pack, and possessed the absolute sweetest, most nurturing golden-retriever energy. After three months of heavy flirting, he happened to be in my city on business, so we agreed to finally meet up over the weekend. As I rode the train over, even the breeze outside felt sweet. On a whim, I posted a quick update on a social media app to document the moment. Heading to meet my online boyfriend. If it goes well, I’ve hit the jackpot. If it doesn’t, I’m just a clown. Beneath the text, I attached a photo he’d sent of himself wearing an apron. His massive chest practically strained the fabric, throwing his ridiculously broad shoulders into sharp relief. The comments section instantly went wild. That V-taper is insane. You are eating so good, girl! I could never land a guy like this. Do us a favor and scream for the rest of us! Drop the tutorial, sis! I am literally on my knees! Right then, messages from my online boyfriend started flooding my screen. Where are you, Viv? Just thinking about seeing you today has completely ruined my concentration. I can’t even focus on my meetings. My head is entirely filled with you. I’m in my office right now, so nervous and excited. I’m pretty average-looking, though. Are you going to be disappointed when you see me? Maybe I should send you a photo first so you can prepare yourself? I texted back: Of course not, honey. It’s your heart I fell for. Looks don’t matter to me. In three months of dating, we had exchanged voice notes and teased each other with body shots, but we had never actually shared our faces. But honestly, with a physique like that, I would happily take him with my eyes closed. Then, he sent another photo. My jaw hit the floor. A massive man was sitting in an office chair, thighs spread wide, his suit trousers stretched tight enough to show the faint outlines of shirt-stays. His left arm was slightly bent, hand resting on his thigh, veins bulging across the back of his hand and up his forearm where his sleeve was rolled to the elbow. His other elbow rested on his knee, holding a prop gun I had teased him into buying. He gripped the barrel, pointing the stock toward the camera. He leaned forward slightly, his black vest hugging the prominent chest muscles beneath his white shirt. The sheer power radiating from the image was overwhelming. The posture was pure dominance, dripping with raw tension. I felt hot just looking at it. He was teasing me, plain and simple. Since the train was packed, I couldn’t do much, so I quickly typed: Are you going to use that gun stock to tap my backside? He sent a voice note immediately. I scrambled to plug in my earbuds. A smooth, deep voice rumbled in my ears. “One minute you want to bury your face in my chest, and the next you want a spanking. You’re getting greedy, sweetheart.” I typed: Please? Pretty please? He let out a low, breathless chuckle. “We’ll see how well you behave, Viv.” That laugh absolutely destroyed me. I wanted nothing more than to tear through the screen and throw myself at him. 2 Finally, the train pulled into the station. I grabbed my suitcase and practically sprinted out. He had told me he would be waiting near the exit. But the moment I stepped onto the platform near the street, I spotted a painfully familiar figure. Slicked-back hair, a perfectly tailored suit, looking utterly severe and strictly business. It was my incredibly intimidating stepbrother, Gideon. We were from a blended family. My mother had married his father, Robert, when we were younger. Although I called him my brother, we weren’t close at all. First, he was older than me, deeply traditional, and a man of exceptionally few words. By the time I was in school, he was already working at the family firm. We rarely saw each other, and when we did, it was nothing more than polite, brief pleasantries followed by heavy silence. Second, his features took after his father, only sharper and far more imposing. One look from those cold, dark eyes was enough to make my stomach drop. The only upside was that he occasionally acted as an ATM when I was short on cash. In fact, the money for this trip had come straight from his pocket. He had no idea I was traveling to meet an online lover, and I had absolutely no intention of telling him. So, I lowered my head, avoiding his line of sight, and blended into the crowd. He seemed to be waiting for someone, holding a bouquet of fresh flowers. Ooh, a girl, I thought, a mischievous grin tugging at my lips. If his father knew Gideon was dating, he would probably throw a party. I found a quiet corner far away from Gideon and sent a text to my guy. I’m here, babe. My phone rang almost instantly. “I’m right by the main exit,” his deep voice said, a trace of nervous anticipation bleeding through the speaker. “You should see me the moment you walk out.” I scanned the crowd, my brow furrowing. There was absolutely no one around who matched his description. “I don’t see you. I’m right outside the main gates.” The line went quiet for a second before he suggested, “Do you want to FaceTime?” “Sure, let’s do it.” We had to face each other eventually, and with a body like that, there was no way he could be hard on the eyes. As the call connected, I quickly patted down my hair, checked my makeup in the reflection, angled myself toward the best light, and hit accept. It took exactly one second. I slammed my hand over the camera lens. My smile froze instantly. “Viv?” That single word sent a violent shiver down my spine. I turned around slowly, my heart hammering against my ribs. Sure enough, not far away, Gideon was holding his phone up, staring intensely at the screen. “Viv, what’s wrong?” My mind raced as I came to a terrifying, impossible realization. My online boyfriend was Gideon. My online boyfriend was my own stepbrother. 3 It took me several agonizing moments to find my voice. “Um, so… what did you say your name was again?” Gideon’s deep voice drifted through the speaker. “Gideon. I told you before.” Refusing to accept reality, I stammered, “Right, but… how do you spell it? Is it G-I-D-E-O-N?” “Yes, Vivian. Gideon Cross. I’ve never lied to you about that.” I closed my eyes and took a deep, shaky breath. My entire world was collapsing. When we first started talking, we had exchanged names. He had sent me a brief, one-second voice note. I remembered feeling a brief flicker of familiarity back then, but the slight unease had been quickly swept away by the gorgeous fitness photos he posted on his feed. To flirt with him and bridge the gap between us, I had given him my nickname. Viv. It was a name my mother had given me when I was a child, though she rarely used it these days. I had never in a million years imagined that the man on the other end of the line was Gideon. Gideon was always so cold, so distant. My online boyfriend, on the other hand, was incredibly suggestive, clingy, and had an insane physique. Sure, the name Gideon wasn’t incredibly common, but I figured it was just a coincidence. But of all the people in the world, it had to be him. If only I had insisted on seeing his face while I was still on the train. Regret washed over me in suffocating waves. As I stood there utterly paralyzed, Gideon’s voice came through the phone again, sounding uncharacteristically vulnerable. “Viv? Did you change your mind after seeing my face? I told you I wasn’t much to look at. I’m sorry. I should have sent you a photo sooner.” The raw disappointment in his tone made my chest ache. “No, it’s not that. I was just… really surprised. You just look a little intimidating.” Gideon wasn’t unattractive by any means. He had sharp, striking features with a dangerous, dark edge. But those intense, heavy-lidded eyes could look incredibly fierce when he stared at you without expression, often sending a chill straight down your spine. The very first time my mother brought me to the family home, I had burst into tears out of sheer terror just looking at him. Hearing my response, Gideon softened his voice. “I’m sorry, Viv. I was afraid of scaring you off, which is why I waited so long to show you. Most people around me… they’re terrified of me. If you don’t like what you see, I won’t bother you. But could you give me a chance? Let’s just sit down, have a quiet dinner, and then I’ll make sure you get home safely. After that, you can decide whether you want to keep talking to me.” My heart melted a little at his gentleness. But… he was my stepbrother. “I need to use the restroom. Can you wait for me for a minute?” “Of course.” I ended the call, but the panic in my chest didn’t subside. I peered out from behind the corner to steal a glance at him. Gideon was looking down at his phone, his face unreadable, completely lost in thought. A dull ache settled deep in my chest. I had genuinely fallen for my online boyfriend. Why did it have to be Gideon? Ever since my mother married into his family, she had constantly pressured me to please both Gideon and his father. I had done my best to follow her instructions, but the pressure was agonizing. I crouched down, burying my face in my hands. Suddenly, my phone buzzed, reminding me of the post I had made earlier. In just two hours, the update had garnered over ten thousand likes, and the comments were blowing up with people begging for an update. I quietly changed my username to: Holy crap, he’s my stepbrother. Then I drafted a new post: Giving away my online boyfriend for free. He’s clingy and talks constantly. We’ve never met in person. Are there any girls near Riverport Central Station who want to take my place? Urgent, urgent, urgent! I’m sorry, Gideon, but I don’t see any other way out of this. Just as my thumb hovered over the publish button, a deep voice shattered the silence behind me. “Vivian?” I gasped, leaping to my feet. Gideon was standing right there, towering over me, his face carved from ice. “G-Gideon!” My tongue felt like lead as I frantically locked my screen. Gideon studied me, his sharp gaze scanning me from head to toe before he spoke. “What are you doing here?” His voice was cool and distant. Those piercing eyes pinned me to the spot, making it impossible to lie. “I… I came to meet someone I met online…” I swallowed hard, looking at the floor. “I’m sorry, Gideon, I…” The words caught in my throat. My palms were slick with sweat. Gideon adopted his usual authoritative stance. “An online boyfriend? Who is he? What’s his name? How long have you been together?” Every single question made me want to curl up and disappear. I looked away, forcing myself to spin a lie. “We broke up just now. He didn’t think I was good enough for him.” A ghost of a smirk played on Gideon’s lips, sending a shiver down my spine. His light voice drifted down over me. “What a coincidence. I was just dumped, too.” 4 My heart skipped a violent beat. A terrible suspicion crept into my mind that he already knew everything. But Gideon merely stared at me, keeping perfectly silent, his overwhelming presence wrapping around me like a tight coil. I clutched at the hem of my shirt, fighting back tears. “I’m… I’m sorry, Gideon. She must have been blind to let you go. You’re the best brother in the world.” The lie nearly choked me. Gideon didn’t look particularly pleased by the compliment, but he let out a noncommittal grunt and turned on his heel. I let out a silent breath of relief, only for him to stop and look back over his shoulder. “Aren’t you coming? Or are you planning to go search for that online boyfriend who didn’t think you were good enough?” He placed a heavy, deliberate emphasis on those last few words. Before my brain could process the situation, my hands had already grabbed the handle of my suitcase, and my feet were moving to keep pace with him. When we reached his car, I noticed the beautiful bouquet of flowers sitting sadly inside a trash bin. I bit my lower lip and quietly opened the passenger door. Gideon placed my suitcase in the trunk before sliding into the driver’s seat. Once the doors closed, a heavy, tense silence filled the cabin. Desperate for a distraction, I pulled out my phone. Ensuring Gideon was focused on the road, I quickly swiped away from the social media app. My finger accidentally swiped down the notification shade, revealing two unread alerts from our dating app. 12 minutes ago: Your partner has started sharing their location. 7 minutes ago: Your partner has stopped sharing their location. I froze entirely. He had been right there, but he had already turned it off several minutes ago. I was so dazed that I barely registered Gideon speaking to me. It wasn’t until his voice cut through the fog that I blinked. “Vivian.” I snapped out of it, my face pale as I turned to him. His brow furrowed. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. What’s wrong? Still missing that online guy?” I parted my lips but found nothing to say, swallowed by intense awkwardness. I couldn’t tell if he knew the truth. If he did, he shouldn’t be acting this calm. But if he didn’t, why would he say he had been dumped? Perhaps noticing how shaken and miserable I looked, Gideon sighed, his tone softening slightly. “I asked you what you wanted to eat. Let’s get some food, and then I’ll drop you off at a hotel so you can rest. I’ll drive you back home tomorrow.” The gentle cadence of his voice sounded remarkably like my online boyfriend now. If we hadn’t been so distant at home, I probably would have recognized his voice the moment we first spoke. I mumbled, “Whatever you think is best, Gideon. I don’t mind.” “Alright.” He spared me a brief glance before focusing on the road. The silence stretched all the way to the restaurant. My mind was a chaotic mess, and I could barely taste the food. Gideon remained as quiet and aloof as ever. As we neared the end of the meal, he spoke up again. “I don’t have any work left for today. Is there anywhere you’d like to visit?” He had told me online that he had cleared his entire schedule for the next few days just so we could spend uninterrupted time together during our meeting. Guilt and anxiety gnawed at my conscience. I shook my head slowly. Gideon’s expression didn’t change. “Then I’ll take you to your hotel.” “Okay.” 5 When we arrived at the hotel room, Gideon lingered at the doorway. “Stay safe. Call me if you need anything.” He paused, shifting his weight. “You’ve been messaging me on my work profile. It gets cluttered with business inquiries, so it’s not very practical. Let’s exchange personal accounts.” He retrieved his phone and brought up a QR code. Looking at the familiar profile picture, my stomach did a slow flip. I was currently logged into my secret dating profile on my messaging app, and there was no way I could switch accounts right in front of him. I scrambled for a terrible excuse. “Give me a second, Gideon. I really need to use the restroom. I can’t hold it.” I rushed inside, shut the door, and frantically switched back to my primary messaging profile. Over the past two years, my mother’s desire for control had become suffocating. She micromanaged everything from the clothes I wore to the posts I shared and the people I spoke with. Once I started college, she demanded daily updates on my schedule down to the smallest detail. She was obsessed with grooming me into a perfect, flawless, and utterly submissive socialite. The sheer pressure had driven me to create a secret account where I could let off steam and speak my mind. When I first added Gideon on his personal account, he had seen my erratic posts and probably thought I was losing my mind. Honestly, I probably was. Once the account was switched, I stepped back out and scanned his QR code. “There we go. Thanks, Gideon.” He looked as if he wanted to say more, but seeing my eager dismissal, he simply nodded and turned to leave. I watched him walk down the hallway, closed the door, and slumped against it, completely drained of energy. Crawling onto the bed, I reopened the social media app. The draft of my giveaway post was still sitting there. After a moment of hesitation, I deleted it. Since my username change, the post about meeting my online boyfriend had gained even more traction, and the comments were getting wilder. Oh my god, a forbidden stepbrother romance in real life? This is too wild! I demand a daily log of this! I need to know every single detail! Naturally, some accused me of baiting for engagement. People will really invent anything for clout these days. Totally fake. How do you not recognize your own brother’s body? A few users even sent nasty direct messages, accusing me of promoting something sick. Feeling incredibly hurt, I pinned a comment to clarify: We aren’t biologically related. We’re a blended family, and he’s five years older than me. We barely know each other and only see each other once a year during the holidays. I created a secret account to vent because of extreme personal stress, and by some insane stroke of luck, I ended up adding his private profile without realizing it. It’s not what you think. Please stop the hateful comments; I’m incredibly sensitive and this is really stressing me out. Shortly after pinning the comment, an anonymous user with a default avatar messaged me: Don’t cry, sweetheart. It’s not your fault at all. But I have to ask, do you actually have feelings for your online guy, or was he just a distraction for you? Assuming the user was a supportive girl, I replied: I genuinely fell for him. His voice, his look, his sweet personality, everything about him is absolutely perfect. I’m completely head over heels. But he’s my stepbrother. Even if we don’t share any blood, my family would absolutely destroy me if they found out, especially my mother. The moment I pressed send, a text from Gideon flashed across my screen: Open the door. 6 I frantically exited the app, setting my phone to Do Not Disturb to keep any incoming notifications hidden. When I opened the door, Gideon was standing in the hallway, holding the handle of my suitcase. A rare, gentle smile touched his lips. “You left your bag in my car,” he said. I had never seen him smile like that before, and it felt almost surreal. He walked past me into the room, the wheels of the suitcase clicking softly against the floor. I stood there, utterly bewildered. “Gideon?” “Yeah?” His phone was unlocked in his hand, hanging loosely at his side. I couldn’t see the text clearly, but I caught a glimpse of that familiar default avatar on his screen. An epiphany hit me like a physical blow. He knew. He had known the entire time. He had likely stumbled across my post, turned on his location sharing to confirm it, and tracked me down. Every single word he had said since then, every action, had been a deliberate test. And that anonymous user asking if I genuinely liked him? That was him. It made perfect sense why he was standing at my door the exact second I replied. Panic seized me. “Gideon, listen, I can explain…” Gideon sat down on the edge of the bed, watching me with a calm, intensely tender gaze that made my throat close up. “Take your time, Viv,” he said softly. The moment he called me by my nickname, all pretense evaporated. The fragile string keeping my composure together snapped completely. My knees buckled, and I nearly fell to the floor. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered, tears welling in my eyes. Gideon immediately stood up, looking alarmed. “I’m not angry with you, sweetheart. Please don’t be afraid.” He took a step toward me, but my instinct made me flinch back. His hand froze in midair, a look of profound regret crossing his face as he slowly lowered his arm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Those fierce eyes were suddenly filled with deep affection and sorrow. “When I first realized you were my online girl, I was completely stunned. I felt anxious, conflicted, and confused. But it took me only five minutes to make peace with it. I love you, Viv. No matter who you are, I love the real, unfiltered version of you that you shared with me.” His absolute certainty left me speechless. “But… I’m your stepsister.” He let out a soft chuckle. “I know. But it doesn’t change how I feel. If anything, it makes me understand why you were always so emotional when we talked, and why you would cling to me and say the wildest things. It just makes me ache for you even more.” His gaze was incredibly tender. “At home, you always walked on eggshells, hiding your true self. I never understood why you were so terrified of me. Every time I tried to reach out or show you kindness, you seemed to interpret it as… a threat?” He sighed deeply. “So, I stopped trying. I figured keeping my distance was the only way to make things easier for you.” I looked away, biting my lip as memories from years ago flooded my mind.

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My mother-in-law, Elizabeth, spent three years turning me into the perfect obedient trophy wife of a wealthy family. I thought she despised me — until she personally dragged me to a high-end restaurant to catch my husband in the act. She didn’t scream or make a scene like some unhinged woman on the street. Instead, right in front of the other woman, she made one phone call and cut off every card my husband had. She pulled me behind her, her eyes cold as a blade: “The heir I spent three years grooming with my own hands was not meant to be disrespected by trash like you.” I thought my mother-in-law was my salvation — my ally, the one who would pull me out of the quicksand of my marriage. But years later, when I held complete control of the entire corporation, the woman who had disappeared for so long called me out of nowhere — and revealed a truth that sent ice down my spine. “Evelyn, hold those tears back. Crying is the most useless thing in this world.” Outside the private dining room of an upscale French restaurant, Elizabeth shot me a cold glance. She wore a perfectly tailored dark gray couture suit, a flawless luxury watch on her wrist, and carried herself with an authority that was almost suffocating. I bit down hard on my lip, my whole body trembling. Just on the other side of that door, my husband William was having dinner with a young, beautiful girl. Her name was Daisy — a new intern at his company. Half an hour ago, Elizabeth had suddenly pulled me out of the house without a word of explanation and brought me straight here. Through the gap in the door, I watched with my own eyes as William cut a piece of steak and fed it into Daisy’s mouth, his gaze so tender it could melt. That tenderness. He hadn’t shown it to me in a very long time. “Mom…” My voice came out hoarse, my mind completely blank. Bang! Elizabeth ignored me and kicked the door open. The crash startled everyone inside. William spun around, and the moment he saw us, his knife and fork clattered onto his plate and the color drained from his face. “Mom? Evelyn? What are you two doing here…” Daisy looked just as stunned, shrinking into her chair like a frightened rabbit, her eyes going red almost instantly. Elizabeth didn’t shout. She didn’t lunge forward. She walked in on her heels, one deliberate step at a time, and stood over the table, looking down at William. “The Wellington here is excellent. Too bad you don’t deserve it.” Her tone was flat, but it carried a chill that cut to the bone. She took out her phone, dialed a number, and put it on speaker. “Alfred, cancel every supplementary card under William’s name and freeze his personal accounts. Also, notify Legal — pull his signing authority on the North District project. Effective immediately.” The voice on the other end confirmed without hesitation. William shot to his feet, panic breaking through. “Mom! What are you doing? If you have something to say, we can talk at home — don’t do this here—” “Home?” Elizabeth let out a short, cold laugh. Her gaze swept across Daisy’s face like a blade. “Do you still have a home? I spent three years personally grooming a daughter-in-law to help protect this family’s legacy — not so you could go out and embarrass me with something like this.” Daisy flinched as if she’d been struck, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Ma’am, you’ve got it wrong, Mr. Sterling and I are just—” “Shut up.” Elizabeth didn’t even look at her. “Who do you think you are, speaking to me like that? Go handle your resignation tomorrow and get out of the company. Otherwise, I’ll make sure you can’t find work in this city — not even waiting tables.” With that, Elizabeth turned and grabbed my wrist, her grip startlingly strong. “Did you see enough?” She held my gaze, each word deliberate. “That is the man you’ve devoted yourself to for three years. Let’s go.” I followed her out of the restaurant like a puppet on a string.

Back at the sprawling, hollow villa, I collapsed onto the couch, my mind flooded with images of William and Daisy together. William was a self-made star in the business world — he’d founded Sterling Group in his early thirties and built it into a billion-dollar empire. I, on the other hand, came from an ordinary family. When I married him, everyone said I’d won the lottery. After the wedding, Elizabeth ordered me to quit my job. “A Sterling wife has no business working outside or putting herself on display. Your job is to take care of Will and take care of this home.” From that point on, she scheduled every hour of my life. She had me up at six every morning to make breakfast and iron clothes. Mornings were for cleaning the house and accompanying her to the salon. Afternoons were filled with etiquette lessons and wine tastings, or playing hostess at her social gatherings. And every evening, I had to come up with new, elaborate nutritious meals. Elizabeth had severe OCD and mysophobia. Not a single hair could be on the carpet. Every cup handle had to face the exact same angle. One small mistake, and she’d tear me apart with her cold, cutting remarks. “You can’t even mop a floor properly. What’s the point of Will bringing you home?” “This soup tastes like plain water. Are you trying to starve us?” I swallowed my grievances every time. Whenever I poured my heart out to William, he’d hold me gently and speak to me in that soft, soothing voice of his. “Eve, my mom raised me on her own. It wasn’t easy. She’s got a difficult personality — just be patient with her. You’re the only one I care about.” “Baby, you work so hard at home. Once things settle down at work, I’ll take you to the Maldives.” His tenderness was the only comfort I had in that cold, hollow mansion. I believed we were in love. I believed that if I endured enough, I would eventually earn this family’s acceptance. But now I understood. William’s tenderness was a lie. So was his “busy schedule.” He was out there cutting steak for another woman, while I sat alone at home, drowning in endless loneliness. “Done crying?” Elizabeth had changed into a loungewear set at some point. She walked toward me, a glass of red wine in hand. I looked up. My eyes were so swollen they felt like they were about to burst. “Elizabeth, why did Will—” “Because men are dogs at their core.” Elizabeth cut me off, her voice flat and cold. “Feed them a five-star meal every day, and they’ll still go sniffing around for street food. You think waiting on him hand and foot would make him grateful? Wrong. It just makes him think it’s your job. Like you’re some soulless housekeeper with no life of your own.” Her words hit like a blade straight to the chest. “So what am I supposed to do? Get a divorce?” My voice was shaking. “Divorce?” Elizabeth let out a cold laugh and looked down at me. “You walk out with nothing, and that little home-wrecker moves right into your house, spends your husband’s money, and sleeps in your bed. Is that really what you want?” I clenched my fist so hard my nails dug into my palm. It stung. No. Absolutely not. I gave three years of my life to this marriage. Why should I be the one to step aside and make room for someone else? “Then get up!” Elizabeth snapped. “Tears won’t give a man a conscience. In this world, the only thing that can protect you is the leverage you hold in your own hands.” She walked to the liquor cabinet and pulled out a document, slapping it down on the coffee table. “This is a share transfer agreement for five percent of Sterling Group. Sign it, and starting tomorrow, you come to the company with me.” I stared at it, stunned. “Are you… what is this?” “I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this for the family’s interests.” Elizabeth’s gaze was sharp. “William has completely lost his mind. I’m not going to stand by and watch him let some woman destroy this company. I need you to pull him away from her — and then crush him under your heel.” I stared at the document, my heart pounding. Then, without warning, a violent wave of nausea surged up from my stomach. I clapped a hand over my mouth and bolted to the bathroom, retching over the sink. Elizabeth followed. She leaned against the doorframe, her eyes dropping to my stomach. “How many days late is your period?” My whole body went still. I counted the days. A week. I was a week late. “Go check.” She held out a pregnancy test. Five minutes later, I was sitting on the bathroom floor, staring at two bright red lines, sobbing so hard I could barely breathe. On the night my marriage fell apart, I found out I was pregnant. Elizabeth stepped in and looked at the test. Her face was unreadable. “Good,” she said simply. “Now you have the strongest leverage of all.”

From that day on, Elizabeth put me through what could only be described as boot camp. She stopped asking me to do any housework. Three housekeepers were hired to take care of the estate. My entire daily schedule was restructured. Six in the morning — morning runs with her. “Your body is your most important asset. You’re carrying two lives now. Take care of yourself.” In the mornings, she brought in a top-tier financial advisor and a business mentor to teach me how to read financial reports and analyze market trends. “You have to keep control of the money yourself. If you can’t even read a balance sheet, how are you going to hold your own against William?” Afternoons were packed with intensive courses — etiquette, negotiation tactics, and psychology. “Wipe that pitiful look off your face. Straighten your back, lift your chin. You are a co-ruler of this family, not William’s accessory.” In the evenings, she would personally walk me through Sterling Group’s recent operations, breaking down every decision William had made. I was like a dried-out sponge, soaking up everything desperately. I stopped crying, because Elizabeth was right — tears solved nothing. And William? After that night at the restaurant, he completely fell apart. His cards were frozen, his signing authority stripped, and at the company, Elizabeth had him boxed in at every turn. He came crawling to me for peace. He started coming home on time every day, buying me designer bags, jewelry, even dropping to his knees begging for forgiveness. “Eve, I was wrong. I swear, things with Daisy are completely over. That day, I only took her to dinner because I felt sorry for her…” I sat on the sofa, watching him sob and break down, and felt absolutely nothing. If this had been before, I would have caved immediately. But now, all I felt was a deep, nauseating disgust. “William, do you think that just because I’m pregnant, I can’t leave you?” I stared at him, my voice ice-cold. He froze for a moment, his eyes shifting away. “Eve, how can you say that? I genuinely love you. I love our baby…” “Save it.” I stood up and looked down at him. “Starting today, we sleep in separate rooms. You’d better pray you don’t make any mistakes at the company — because if your mother can freeze your cards, I can have you thrown out of Sterling Group entirely.” William stared up at me, like he was looking at a stranger. He probably never imagined it — that the wife who had once bent to his every wish could turn into someone like this. Elizabeth watched it all unfold, a faint, cold smile tugging at the corner of her lips. She began lifting me up in every public setting she could. She brought me to top-tier business dinners, introducing me to the heavyweights of the industry. “This is my daughter-in-law, Evelyn Woods. Going forward, she will be taking full charge of several of Sterling Group’s investment projects.” At first, the looks people gave me were dismissive — they assumed I was just some trophy wife who’d secured her position by getting pregnant. But after a few exchanges, they realized I could negotiate entirely in English without missing a beat, and I could pinpoint the weak spots in any deal with precision. My reputation began to spread through the circles. I was no longer Mrs. Sterling. I was Ms. Woods. The way William looked at me shifted — from guilt, to shock, and finally to a deep, uneasy mix of wariness and flattery. He was beginning to see it. The business empire he was so proud of was slowly being carved away, piece by piece, by me and Elizabeth. He started working overtime to prove himself, desperate to win me back. He took over every chore around the house, fussed over my every need, and if I so much as furrowed my brow, he’d spend the next half hour on edge. But I knew the truth. He wasn’t afraid of losing me. He was afraid of losing his position. “That’s how men are. The more you give in to them, the less they value you. Leave them out in the cold, and suddenly they’re begging.” Elizabeth said, cradling her coffee, watching William wash my car in the driveway, her tone laced with mockery. I looked at her, and something complicated stirred inside me. “Why are you helping me like this?” I couldn’t stop myself from asking. Elizabeth was quiet for a moment, her gaze drifting somewhere far away. “Because I don’t want you to end up walking the same road I did.” Her voice dropped. “William’s father was exactly the same. I built this company with him from nothing, side by side. And on the day it went public, he walked in with his mistress right in front of me.”

I stared at her, stunned. I had never known — that someone as formidable as Elizabeth had once carried a humiliation like that. “I didn’t cry. I didn’t make a scene. I spent five years methodically stripping him of every decision-making power he had, and in the end, I pushed him out of the company completely.” Elizabeth turned to look at me, her eyes sharp as a blade. “Eve, remember this — marriage is a game. There’s no such thing as both sides winning. Either you win, or you lose. Never put your faith in a man’s conscience.” Daisy hadn’t given up. A woman who had spent her life using men as shortcuts — how could she ever let go of a tree that had been feeding her so steadily? When William cut off her money, she found other ways to harass him. When he stopped answering her calls, she kept dialing from different numbers. And then, one Saturday afternoon, a call came through on the house landline. At the time, Elizabeth was in the living room having tea, and I was going over documents for an acquisition deal. William had just come downstairs. The butler answered the phone, then paused. “Ma’am, it’s a call for Mr. Sterling.” William’s expression shifted instantly. He crossed the room in a few quick strides, reaching for the phone to hang up. But I was faster. I walked over and hit the speakerphone button. “Will! Why are you ignoring me? I’m pregnant!” Daisy’s sharp, wailing voice echoed through the spacious living room like a bomb going off, sucking all the air out of the space in an instant. The color drained from William’s face. His knees buckled, and he nearly collapsed to the floor. “What the hell are you talking about?! We’ve been over for a long time!” he screamed at the phone, his voice shaking. “I’m not making this up! I’m two months along! Will, you can’t just abandon me — you told me you’d divorce that frump of yours and marry me…” I listened calmly. Strangely, I didn’t feel even a flicker of anger. Just a hollow kind of amusement. I glanced over at Elizabeth. She set down her teacup, rose slowly and deliberately, and walked over to William. Crack. A sharp, vicious slap landed across William’s face. He stumbled from the force of it, blood immediately trickling from the corner of his mouth. “You disgusting piece of trash.” Elizabeth’s eyes were ice cold. “You’ve dragged this family’s name through the mud.” “Mom, I didn’t know — I swear I didn’t know she was pregnant…” William pressed a hand to his face, his words tumbling out in a panicked mess. “You didn’t know?” Elizabeth let out a cold laugh. “You couldn’t keep yourself in check, so now you deal with the consequences. Call the lawyers. Now. I want the remaining thirty percent of Sterling Group transferred entirely into Eve’s name.” William’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with horror. “Mom! Are you out of your mind?! That’s the backbone of the company! If you give it all to her, what does that leave me?” “It leaves you nothing — because that’s what you are.” Elizabeth jabbed a finger at him. “Starting today, you’re just a salaried employee. Eve is Sterling Group’s majority shareholder. And if you don’t like it, get out of this house right now. Go find your little mistress and figure it out on your own.” William completely fell apart. He knew Elizabeth never made empty threats. He dropped to his knees in front of me with a thud, wrapping his arms around my legs and holding on for dear life. “Eve. Honey. Please. Talk to my mom for me. I can’t lose the company — I can’t. I will never acknowledge that child, I swear. I’ll make her get rid of it right now. The only child I’ll ever claim is the one you’re carrying.” Watching him grovel like that made my stomach turn. I shook him off with a firm kick and looked down at him. “William, you’re pathetic.” I turned toward the phone. “Did you hear that, Daisy? He wants you to terminate the pregnancy. If you want money, take him to court. Though I’ll warn you — there’s nothing left in his name.” Then I pulled the phone cord out of the wall. That afternoon, the lawyers arrived. William signed the share transfer agreement with red-rimmed eyes and trembling hands. From that moment on, I was the true power behind Sterling Group. And William became just another salaried employee working under me.

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My system gave me one job: save the brooding male lead. He was a gorgeous wealthy heir, sent abroad young. But a car crash had left him paralyzed, turning him bitter, cynical, and desperately starved for affection. Luckily, I suffered from a severe savior complex. I spent three years giving him unconditional warmth, taking care of him so thoroughly I practically babied him back into the womb. But the moment I showed up with a bouquet to confess my feelings, he threw the flowers straight into the trash. His voice dripped with mockery. “Stop acting. I’ve been able to hear your conversations with your system this entire time.” “Did you really think I loved you? The only difference between you and those gold diggers is that you’re free.” Watching my stunned expression, he let out a cold, sharp laugh. “What? You’re allowed to play me, but I’m not allowed to play you?” I was quiet for a few seconds. Then, I gave him a soft, accepting smile. “It’s okay. If you felt even a single second of happiness over these past three years, then our meeting had meaning.” “It doesn’t matter if the mission failed. I’ll just find someone else to romance. Take care of yourself, Henry. Goodbye.” Ignoring his frozen expression, I logged out and left his world. 1 Six months later, I saw Henry again. The system informed me that I had to romance him a second time. He was sitting in his wheelchair, clutching a bottle of hard liquor, smelling like an absolute distillery. His strikingly handsome features were utterly ruined by exhaustion, his eyes bloodshot. Standing in front of him, I couldn’t help but sigh. People who have never been loved don’t know how to love others, and they certainly don’t know how to love themselves. I soaked a towel in warm water and walked over to his side. Taking the bottle from his grip, I gently wiped the grime and alcohol from his face and hands. He opened his eyes, glaring at me with a wild, feral hostility. “I told you all to get the hell…” His voice cut off instantly. He blinked, staring at me as if looking at a ghost. Tears spilled from his beautiful, hollow eyes, chasing each other down his cheeks. In the span of a heartbeat, his silent weeping broke into a violent, sobbing wail. He wrapped his arms tightly around my waist, burying his face in my stomach. “I thought you abandoned me,” he choked out between sobs. “Why did you come back?” I hesitated for a mere two seconds before his voice spiked, cracking with a desperate, ragged edge. “Why aren’t you saying anything? Paige, what is this supposed to mean?” “Talk to me! Say something! Please, say something!” He was completely wasted. If he were sober, his stubborn pride and tangled ego would never have allowed him to show me this kind of vulnerability. But there was no point trying to reason with a drunk. I reached out and stroked his hair, using the same endless patience I had shown him a thousand times before. “I didn’t abandon you.” “Whenever you need me, I’ll be here.” His body stiffened. Then, he clung to me even tighter, crying like a child. In my mind, the system whispered, Host, I know I usually call you a bleeding heart, but this is next-level martyrdom. He wasted three whole years of our lives. Have you already forgotten the horrible things he said to you last time? I kept running my fingers through Henry’s hair, replying to the system in my head. “I haven’t forgotten. But does it really matter?” “Once the mission is done, we won’t ever see each other again. Why waste energy holding a grudge against a temporary passenger in my life?” The system went quiet. I helped Henry into bed and cleaned up his messy bedroom. Only when I was finished did the system speak up again. Host, I honestly can’t tell if you’re a saint or just completely cold-blooded. This second run has two objectives. You need to max out both his affection meter and his regret meter. That means you don’t just have to make him fall madly in love with you, you also have to make him suffer through agonizing regret. Are you sure you can pull this off? 2 Henry was my first target. He came from a wealthy family, but his parents both had their own secret lovers and never gave him a shred of warmth. Before he could even speak English properly, he was shipped off to boarding school across the ocean. The only people around him were hired nannies, drivers, and bodyguards. Just as he survived a chaotic childhood, a car accident shattered his legs at the age of ten. During our three years together, I poured every ounce of my energy into him. Because he was deeply insecure, I made sure to reply to his messages instantly. Rain or shine, I always showed up right on time. Because he starved for care, I took over his cooking, cleaning, and daily life, constantly monitoring his physical and emotional health. I used to think the fleeting softness in his eyes meant he was being touched by my devotion. But I was wrong. He had known the truth from the very beginning. “Did you really think I loved you? The only difference between you and those gold diggers is that you’re free.” Yet, I didn’t hate him for those wasted years. When we parted last time, my words had been entirely genuine. “It’s okay. If you felt even a single second of happiness over these past three years, then our meeting had meaning.” I could still picture his stunned, pale face from that day. That was why I knew, without a doubt, that this second attempt would succeed. 3 I slept on the sofa in Henry’s living room that night. Even though it was just a couch, it was far more comfortable than most beds, and I managed a solid eight hours of sleep. In my dreams, the system kept rambling about how it had patched the audio bug so Henry could no longer hear our thoughts. It insisted we had to succeed this time. When I opened my eyes, I saw Henry sitting in his wheelchair, his eyes red and swollen, staring down at me blankly. I sat up, greeting him naturally. “Morning. What are you in the mood for? I can whip up some breakfast.” Henry’s voice was freezing. “What are you doing in my house?” I grabbed a bottle of cold water from the fridge to help soothe his puffy eyes. His body tensed when I pressed it to his face, but he didn’t pull away. “My system mentioned you weren’t doing too well. I thought you might need me, so I came back to check on you.” Henry gripped the armrests of his wheelchair, his gaze turning mocking. “Don’t flatter yourself. Me, need you? Who do you think you are?” “Just because you spent three years acting like a desperate lapdog doesn’t mean you’re actually my girlfriend.” My hands paused. I placed the cold bottle on his lap. Without a single word, I turned and walked toward the front door. Behind me, a heavy thud echoed. In his panic to stop me, he had forgotten he couldn’t walk and had tumbled out of his chair. I immediately turned back to help him up. His face was flushed with anger and embarrassment as he snarled, “Get off me! I don’t need your…” The system groaned in my head. Host, you really drew the short straw with this guy. He’s a nightmare. What kind of sweet talk are you going to use to pacify him this time? I hoisted Henry back into his wheelchair and answered the system. “No sweet talk. He told me to get lost, so I’m getting lost.” 4 I stood before Henry, looking down at him with a soft, gentle gaze. “Yesterday you blamed me for leaving you. I thought you really needed me, but I guess that was just the alcohol talking.” “I’m sorry, Henry. I lied to you for three years, and now I’m back here bothering you again.” I gently smoothed out his wrinkled collar, turned around, and walked toward the exit once more. But I had barely taken a step before I felt a heavy tug. Henry had grabbed the hem of my jacket, gripping it so hard the veins on the back of his hand bulged. I turned back, wearing a look of mild confusion. “Is something wrong?” Henry ground his teeth, struggling for a long moment before muttering, “Who said you could leave?” I gently pried his fingers off my jacket. “You did. Didn’t you just tell me to get lost?” He choked on his words, his face flushing a deep, embarrassed red. The silence stretched between us for another thirty seconds before I finally spoke. “If you want me to stay, you have to be honest with me.” “Tell me you missed me, that you need me, and ask me to stay.” Henry’s expression soured even further. To bow his head, to swallow his pride, and to utter such vulnerable words to a liar like me was agonizing for him. But as his eyes fell on my retreating figure, he finally forced the words out. “I… I missed you. And I need you.” “Please stay and keep me company. Are you happy now?” It was a simple plea, but to him, it seemed more humiliating than begging on his knees. He stared at me with bloodshot eyes, looking as if he would drag us both to the grave if I dared refuse. I held his gaze for a few seconds. Then, I reached out and gently ran my fingers through his hair. Leaning down, I wrapped my arms around him. His body went rigid, but then he greedily tightened his arms around my waist, burying his face in my neck and breathing me in. “I’m glad you told me the truth, Henry.” “You were drunk yesterday, so you probably forgot what I said.” “I told you, I didn’t abandon you. Whenever you need me, I’ll be here.” It was a beautifully crafted, utterly empty promise. Yet hearing it made Henry hold me even tighter. The system suddenly squealed in my head. Host! The progress bar moved! Finally! How is this possible? He knows you’re just playing a game! I gently stroked Henry’s cheek. His eyelashes fluttered as he bit his lip, subconsciously leaning his face into my palm. It was a familiar gesture. The stray dogs I used to feed back home would nuzzle my hand the exact same way. Feeling the warmth against my palm, I took a moment to reply to the system. “Maybe because, outside of me, nobody has ever given him this much affection and security.” “So what if he knows it’s fake?” The system went silent. And Henry, suddenly realizing how pathetic he must look, pulled back and fell silent too. 5 He pushed me away, though he didn’t dare utter another word about making me leave. “Paige, I know you only came back for your mission,” he said, his voice flat. “But since you’re here, you might as well play your part.” He pulled out his phone and quickly typed a message to someone. A moment lator, he looked up at me, his eyes full of deliberate provocation. “My girlfriend is coming over for dinner tonight. Get things ready.” I nodded smoothly. “Of course. Could you ask her what she likes to eat?” Henry was clearly annoyed by my calm reaction. He scowled and muttered, “Whatever.” I didn’t let his dismissive attitude stop me. I drove to the grocery store, bought a variety of fresh ingredients, and spent the afternoon preparing a lavish spread. Around twilight, there was a knock at the door. A beautiful girl stood on the threshold, holding a bouquet of red roses. I offered her a polite nod, hung up my apron, and walked out the door. The weather in this city was always lovely. I found a quiet outdoor café, ordered an iced Americano, and sat on the patio, watching the world go by. The warm afternoon sun gradually dipped below the horizon, and the air grew cool as darkness settled over the streets. My system, which had gone quiet for a while, suddenly chimed in and panicked. Host, what are you doing? Why aren’t you going back to keep an eye on them? They might be making out right now! Men are fickle creatures. If he moves on, we’re screwed! I shook my head. “I don’t think I’m the one who needs to worry.” I pulled out my phone and switched it on. Instantly, a barrage of notifications flooded my screen. They were all from Henry. [Are you seriously gone? You didn’t even bother to say goodbye?] [What is your problem? You’re throwing a tantrum just because my girlfriend came over? Who do you think you are?] [Why aren’t you replying? Stop acting so cold.] [????] [Answer me.] [Pick up the phone.] [I told you to pick up the phone!] […Did you turn your phone off?] The system was dumbfounded. What is wrong with him? “He’s always been like this,” I replied. The system argued, No way! He’s usually the ice king! I slipped my phone back into my pocket. “He only had the luxury of being the ice king because I used to reply to him within seconds.” My iced Americano had melted to room temperature. I finished the last sip and walked back to Henry’s apartment. Even though I expected a scene, I still winced slightly when I opened the door. The place was a disaster. The dining table was overturned, food splattered all over the floor. Every piece of glassware had been shattered to pieces. Henry sat in his wheelchair, his face pale with rage, gripping his phone. His right hand was bleeding heavily from a deep cut caused by a shard of glass. I set my bag down on the console table and walked over to him, frowning. “What happened here?” “I was only gone for a couple of hours. How did you manage to do this to yourself?” 6 Henry looked up at me, his entire frame trembling with rage. “Where…” he spat through clenched teeth, “where the hell did you go? Why was your phone off?” “I was just sitting at a café, having a drink,” I answered honestly. “As for my phone, it must have turned off by accident.” Henry suddenly hurled his phone against the floor, shattering it completely. “Who gave you permission to turn it off? Who said you could ignore my messages?” I let out a soft sigh and leaned down to look him in the eyes. “Why are you so worked up? Are you really that afraid of me ignoring you?” “If you are, you need to say it. I can’t read your mind.” Henry wasn’t stupid. He caught on immediately. He grabbed my arm, his grip tight and angry. “You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” I ignored his question. “I’ll say it again.” “If you’re afraid of me leaving, of me ignoring you, you have to tell me.” Henry glared at me, his eyes burning with something close to hatred. “Paige… you…” But as the silence stretched between us, his anger slowly dissolved, replaced by a raw, fragile panic. Finally, after nearly three minutes of quiet, his defenses crumbled. “Fine! Yes, I’m terrified of you leaving! I’m terrified of you ignoring me! Are you happy now? Is this what you wanted?” I retrieved the first-aid kit, sat on the sofa beside him, and began to clean and bandage his bleeding hand. Only when I felt his tense muscles start to relax did I speak. “I didn’t ignore you on purpose, Henry.” “But you have a girlfriend now. I have to respect her and keep a proper distance, don’t I?” Henry’s fingers tightened around mine. “No.” I looked at him, feigning confusion. “No what?” “She… she isn’t my girlfriend,” he muttered, looking away. “I paid her to come over just to make you jealous.” Perhaps because he had already thrown away his dignity, confessing this didn’t seem to bother him as much. I let out a gasp of surprise. “You really are something… Since when did you become so childish?” I reached out and softly patted his head. “How about this, Henry? From now on, whenever you text me, just tell me honestly that you miss me.” “If you do, I promise to reply instantly. I won’t make you wait even a second. Deal?” Having endured so many blows to his pride in a single day, Henry didn’t agree immediately. I didn’t press him. I called a cleaning service to sweep up the wreckage of the apartment. Later that night, after Henry had gone to bed, I slipped out of the apartment to take a walk in the courtyard downstairs. The system was buzzing excitedly in my head. Host! I am never calling you a saint again. You are absolutely devious! But the progress bar didn’t move today. Are you tossing and turning because of that? I smiled. “Don’t worry. The progress will come.” If you say so, the system mumbled. About twenty minutes later, my phone vibrated. I pulled it out. It was a message from Henry. [Where are you?] [It’s late. Where did you go?] I stared at the screen, intentionally leaving him on read. A minute later, another text popped up. [I miss you. Please text me back.] 7 I didn’t hesitate. I replied instantly: [I’m just getting some fresh air downstairs, sweetie. I’m on my way back up now.] The system was silent for several seconds before letting out a gasp as the progress bar ticked upward. I headed back upstairs. Henry was sitting anxiously on the edge of the bed. When he saw me walk through the door, his shoulders visibly dropped in relief. I walked over to him and gently cupped his face. “I was just taking a stroll. Don’t be scared.” “I’ll always be by your side.” Henry stared at me for a few seconds. Then, suddenly, he violently slapped my hand away. “Don’t you get sick of hearing yourself talk?” “You act like you’re completely devoted to me, like you actually care. But it’s all for your stupid mission!” “I know exactly what you’re doing. You’re training me like a dog, and you love seeing me like this, don’t you?” He glared at me, but beneath the anger, there was a flicker of desperate hope in his eyes. He was waiting for me to deny it. But as the silence dragged on, that hope slowly curdled into bitter resentment. “Stop looking at me with those fake, pitying eyes!” “Do you really think I’d die without you? Don’t think so highly of yourself!” He turned his back to me, burying himself under the covers. But right at that moment, the system chimed with a sudden sub-mission. Sub-mission triggered: Make the target say “I love you” within 24 hours. Failure will result in an electric shock penalty. Given the timing, I was convinced the main system was doing this purely to torment me.

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The moment I pushed the door open, coming home early from my business trip, my blood ran cold. Chloe, my precious wife whom I wouldn’t even let lift a finger around the house, was leaning cozily in the arms of Austin—the executive assistant I had personally promoted. She was running her fingers down his face, her voice sickeningly sweet. “Austin, babe, as soon as I transfer all of Ethan’s assets under my name, I’ll divorce him. Then we can finally be together in the open.” Austin, the guy I built up from nothing, had teary eyes. He squeezed her hand, looking the picture of guilt. “But Chloe, Ethan has been so good to me. He trusts me. How can I take his wife away from him?” Chloe let out a scoff, her voice dripping with sheer disdain. “What is he? He’s nothing but a glorified cash machine who only knows how to work.” I stood in the shadows of the foyer, watching this absurd, sickening scene. My hands clenched into tight fists. That young man wearing the limited-edition designer suit I bought, with his hair perfectly gelled, was Austin. A year ago, he was begging for an internship at the lobby of my company, clutching his resume, saying he didn’t even need a salary just for a learning opportunity. I appreciated his drive, broke the rules to hire him, and personally mentored him on major projects. And this was how he repaid me? Sleeping with my wife, living in my house, and scheming to swallow the inheritance my parents left me? Clap. Clap. Clap. I sneered and clapped my hands as I walked out of the shadows. “What a touching love story. Truly beautiful.” Hearing my voice, Chloe gasped, leaping off the sofa like she had been shocked. Austin turned pale instantly, frantically letting go of her hand. “Ethan… babe, why are you back early?” Chloe stammered, panic flashing through her eyes, though she quickly tried to play it cool. I walked toward them step by step, my gaze landing on the familiar diamond ring on her finger. That was a family heirloom. My mother gave it to me on her deathbed, wishing for me to put it on the finger of the future Mrs. Miller. “Chloe, you’re using my mother’s heirloom ring to profess your love to a boy toy. Who gave you the audacity?” I spat out every word through clenched teeth. Chloe froze, but instinctively stepped in front of Austin to shield him. “Ethan, don’t be so dramatic! What boy toy? Austin actually understands me way better than you ever did!” She lifted her chin, acting completely righteous. “Besides, you’re the only son of the Miller family, and yet we’ve been married for three years and I haven’t even gotten pregnant! What right do you have to blame me?” I laughed out of sheer anger at her shamelessness. “I didn’t get you pregnant?” I stared at her coldly. “Chloe, did you forget that I’m the one who picks up your medical reports every year? Do you really want me to describe your medical condition in front of a third party?” That was Chloe’s biggest insecurity. The truth hit her like a slap, and her face flushed crimson. “Ethan! Stop using that to control me! We are married. Your money is my money! My name is on the deed of this house too!” She pointed at Austin and yelled, “I’m telling you, I want to be with Austin! He doesn’t care if I can have kids. We care about real love! If you’re a real man, just let us go and sign the divorce!” Austin stepped forward too, looking me straight in the eye. “Ethan, Chloe is right. I don’t care about what society thinks. You’re so successful, you can find any woman you want. Why hold onto a woman who doesn’t love you?” Looking at his smug, righteous face, I lost all control of my anger. I grabbed a bottle of Romanee-Conti worth twenty thousand dollars from the bar cart and threw the wine right at their faces! Splash! The dark red liquid drenched them completely. Austin’s expensive, custom-tailored suit was instantly ruined. Chloe shrieked, taking several steps back in sheer humiliation. “Let you go?” I pointed directly at the front door and roared: “Take off that ring, pack your things, and get the hell out of my house with this parasite!”

“Ethan! Have you lost your mind!” Chloe wiped the wine from her face, screaming at me in a rage. She frantically grabbed some tissues to wipe Austin’s suit. Looking at his ruined clothes, her eyes welled with tears of anger. “Do you have any idea how much this suit cost? I bought this for Austin’s birthday! How dare you ruin it!” Austin patted her hand, his voice calm but laced with calculated hurt. “It’s fine, Chloe. Ethan is just angry. I understand.” Hearing this, Chloe’s fury reached a boiling point. She marched right up to me, shoving her finger in my face. “Ethan, you cold-blooded monster! What else do you know besides work? Have you ever actually cared about me? Have you ever given me romance? Austin is a hundred times the man you are!” I stared at her coldly, not backing down an inch. “So your idea of romance, Chloe, is using my money to treat another man to candlelight dinners?” Chloe choked on her words, unable to counter. She gritted her teeth, grabbed Austin’s hand, and headed for the door. “Let’s go, Austin! Don’t waste your breath on this lunatic! Tomorrow I’m getting a lawyer. I’m going to make him spit out half of his fortune!” Before slamming the door, she turned back to glare at me with venom. “Just you wait, Ethan! When you’re old, lonely, and miserable, you’ll regret this day!” The front door slammed shut with a deafening bang. Standing in the messy living room, I took a deep breath to suppress my boiling anger. I pulled out my phone and called my private banker. “Cancel all secondary credit cards under Chloe Miller’s name immediately. Freeze all our joint accounts. Starting right now, she doesn’t get a single penny without my authorization.” After hanging up, I called my company’s CFO. “Lock down every single expense report Chloe submitted over the past three years. First thing tomorrow morning, I want a third-party auditing team to do a full investigation.” After setting everything in motion, I sat on the sofa, closed my eyes, and massaged my temples. Chloe, did you really think my money was that easy to steal? Since you want to play dirty, don’t blame me for ruining you. The next morning, during a board meeting, my phone vibrated like crazy. It was Chloe. The moment I picked up, her screeching voice echoed through the speaker. “Ethan! You bastard! Why did you freeze my cards!” In the background, I could hear the polite but awkward voice of a luxury store sales associate: “Ma’am, do you still want these three limited-edition bags? If the cards aren’t going through, we have to release them to our other VIP customers…” I leaned back in my leather chair, casually spinning my pen. “What’s wrong? Can’t afford your bags anymore?” I sneered. “Chloe, did you forget that all those cards are linked to my account? When I’m happy to spoil you, you’re Mrs. Miller. When I’m not, you’re nothing but a broke nobody who can’t even afford a purse.” “You!” Chloe’s voice shook with rage. “Ethan, don’t push me! Do you really want to burn all our bridges!” “You burned them first.” My eyes turned cold. “Chloe, I’m giving you until the end of the day to return that ring. It belonged to my mother, and you don’t deserve to wear it.” With that, I hung up and immediately blocked her number.

In the afternoon, just as I pulled up to my villa, I saw a battered, rusty pickup truck parked right at my gate. The doors opened, and a burly, middle-aged man in a cheap floral shirt and a younger guy with bleached yellow hair and face piercings climbed down. They were hauling dirty duffel bags and looking around my property with greedy eyes. “Holy crap! So this is the mansion my girl lives in! Damn, it’s huge!” The older man shouted in a loud, boisterous voice, slapping his thigh in excitement. The yellow-haired kid’s eyes lit up too. Hanging a cigarette from his lip, he smirked, “Dad, Austin really scored a rich sugar mommy this time! We’re going to live like kings!” I frowned and walked up to them. “Who are you? What are you doing on my property?” The older man sized me up, rolling his eyes. “Who are you? This is my daughter-in-law Chloe’s house! My son Austin is her absolute favorite. He’s going to run this place now!” So, these were Austin’s trashy family members. I scoffed. “Chloe’s house? You’ve got it wrong. This house belongs to the Millers. And your freeloading son was kicked out yesterday.” “Bullshit!” The yellow-haired kid spat his cigarette onto my driveway, pointing his finger at my nose. “Chloe said half of this place is hers! Who the hell are you to kick my brother out?” Just then, Chloe’s car pulled up, with Austin in the passenger seat. Seeing me, Chloe looked slightly uncomfortable, but she quickly squared her shoulders and got out. “So what if you froze my cards, Ethan? I still own half of this house. I have every right to let Austin and his family move in!” She pointed at me and turned to Austin’s dad. “Gary, this is my useless husband. Ignore him. Just take your bags inside!” Gary instantly put his hands on his hips and spat on the ground near my shoes. “Ha! So you’re the pathetic loser who couldn’t even keep his woman! No wonder Chloe chose my Austin! Let me tell you, my son is the master of this house now. This place belongs to him!” With that, he gestured to the yellow-haired kid, Tyler, to push past me. I blocked the entrance, staring them down with a deadly gaze. “Take one step inside this house, and you will regret it.” My aura was so intense that Gary and Tyler froze, instinctively backing up a step. Chloe, feeling embarrassed in front of Austin’s family, flew into a rage. She rushed forward to shove me out of the way. “Get out of the way, Ethan! This is my house, and I’ll let whoever I want live here!” She pushed me hard, but I didn’t push back. I simply stepped aside, making her lose her balance and stumble. Austin took this chance to lead his father and brother past me, walking right into my house. “Woah! This couch is so soft! Look at the size of this TV!” The moment Tyler walked in, he dragged his mud-stained boots all over my expensive Persian rug and crashed onto my million-dollar Italian leather sofa. Gary looked around like a stray dog entering a palace. Finally, his eyes locked onto the master suite downstairs—the room where my late parents used to sleep. “Oh, this room is huge! It has the best view too! Austin, I’m taking this room. Once I’m settled, I can help you guys watch the kids!” He picked up his smelly, greasy duffel bag and marched toward the master suite. “Stop right there!” I roared, rushing over to block the door. “That was my parents’ room. Nobody goes in there.” Since my parents passed away, I had kept that room exactly the same. I cleaned it myself every day and never allowed anyone to desecrate it. Gary sneered at me, talking in a mockingly loud voice. “Dead people’s room? What a waste of space! It’s bad luck anyway. Let me sleep in there to clear out the bad vibes!” “I’m going to say this one last time. Get the hell out of my house.” My voice was like ice. Chloe walked over, pulling at my sleeve impatiently. “Ethan, stop being dramatic! It’s just a room for dead people. Gary came all this way to support us. What’s wrong with letting him have a nice room? Don’t be so cheap!” I violently ripped my arm away and slammed my fist into the drywall next to her, leaving a deep dent. Chloe shrieked and jumped back, terrified. “Chloe, take one more step, and I won’t be responsible for what happens to you.” I stared into her eyes, speaking slowly and deliberately. She was completely terrified by my dark expression, her lips trembling, not daring to say another word.

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By the time my biological parents finally found me, I was already twenty eight years old. The fake daughter who had taken my place was living the dream as a high society socialite. Meanwhile, I was sitting in a cheap diner, getting rejected by a mediocre blind date who thought I was getting too old. It was only after I was brought back to the sprawling Sinclair estate that I learned the whole truth. Before I was even born, our families had arranged a marriage for me. But the fake daughter had married him instead. She and the heir to the wealthy Thorne fortune were madly in love. They had beautiful children together. They were the absolute golden couple of our city’s elite circle. When the truth of our switched identities came out, she was utterly consumed by guilt. She cried so hard she could barely breathe. Her husband’s heart broke for her. He pulled her into his arms, swearing in front of everyone that she was the only woman he would ever love. My biological mother rushed over to comfort her, stroking her hair and promising that she would always be her one and only precious baby girl. I stood completely alone in the center of the grand foyer. My fingernails dug so hard into my palms that the pain was blinding. Late that night, my biological mother sat on the edge of my bed and gently urged me to let it go. To make it up to me, she promised to start looking for a suitable husband for me immediately. I stared up at the dazzling, multi million dollar crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. But for some reason, all I could think about was the dusty, flickering little lightbulb in my cramped rental apartment. I looked at her and said quietly. “Mom, I want to go home. Please let me go home.” 01 The discovery of my true identity was a complete accident. Mrs. Sinclair had traveled out to a historic countryside parish in Oakhill for a memorial service. On her way down the mountain, a torrential rainstorm hit. She took shelter under a wooden pavilion, which happened to be the exact spot where I was standing, waiting for the rain to pass. She stared at me in absolute shock for a long time. I stared right back. The reason was obvious. I looked exactly like her. Suspicion took root in her mind instantly. She hired private investigators, and the dark truth was dragged into the light. Oakhill was Mrs. Sinclair’s hometown. Twenty eight years ago, she and her husband had a massive argument, so she drove out to the country to clear her head. She was heavily pregnant at the time. The stress triggered early labor. It was a medical emergency, and she had to be rushed to a tiny, rundown local clinic. That same night, another pregnant woman went into labor at the exact same clinic. The rural hospital was incredibly underfunded and chaotic. There were no private VIP suites. The nurses were overwhelmed and exhausted. Somewhere in the madness of that stormy night, the name tags were accidentally swapped. Two infant girls lived completely different lives because of a piece of paper. Mrs. Sinclair and I took a DNA test. The results were undeniable. We were biological mother and daughter. After twenty eight years, the nurse who made the mistake had already passed away from illness. Mrs. Sinclair had nowhere to direct her grief and fury. All she could do was grip my hands, her eyes brimming with tears. “Harper, come home with mom. I swear I will make everything up to you.” Standing in the cracked pavement of my rundown apartment complex, looking at the fleet of luxury black SUVs idling behind her, I felt entirely numb. Just a month ago, I had been laid off during corporate cuts. I was stressing over how to pay rent. I was being humiliated by blind dates set up by distant relatives. And in the blink of an eye, I was the true heiress of the Sinclair empire. I was lucky in one regard. Even though my life was stolen, the working class couple who raised me were wonderful people. They never knew the truth, and they loved me as their own. But they died in a horrific car crash when I was just fourteen. I packed my meager belongings and followed Mrs. Sinclair back to the estate. I did separate DNA tests with every member of the family. Every single piece of paper confirmed the same thing. I was a Sinclair. Mr. Sinclair sighed heavily, his eyes full of regret. My biological brother, Preston, looked at me with deep pity. But it was the fake daughter, Mona, who stepped forward. She gently took my hands, her voice trembling with perfectly executed sobs. “I am so, so sorry. I stole twenty eight years of your life.” My mind drifted. Her skin was flawless and glowing. She moved with effortless elegance. Her eyes held that pure, untainted innocence of a girl who had never known a single day of struggle or hunger. Looking into her pupils, I saw the reflection of my own face. A face weathered and exhausted by years of grinding poverty. A sudden, crushing wave of humiliation washed over me. I pulled my hands out of her grip. She froze. The tears spilled over her cheeks even faster. My mother instantly threw her arms around Mona, holding her tight. “Oh, Mona, sweetheart, this isn’t your fault. You are completely innocent in this.” My father nodded in agreement. “Your mother is right. It was that careless nurse’s fault. Mona, you are too kind for your own good. Stop blaming yourself.” Preston chimed in, offering her gentle words of comfort. But Mona’s tears just wouldn’t stop falling. My mother’s heart broke seeing her cry. She cupped Mona’s face and cooed softly. “Listen to me. No matter what the blood tests say, you will always be my one and only precious baby girl.” Finally, Mona offered a watery, relieved smile. I stood perfectly still in the center of the room. The awkwardness was suffocating. I suddenly felt like I didn’t belong here. I felt like an intruder. A villain who had walked in and ruined their perfect, happy family. Later that evening, Mona’s husband, Liam, arrived. Liam was one of the most famous young billionaires in the city. Handsome, ruthless, and wealthy. Before his wedding, he constantly topped the city’s most eligible bachelor lists. After his wedding, he was praised by the media as the ultimate devoted husband. His face was completely devoid of warmth as he walked in. He immediately pulled Mona behind him, shielding her from me. His voice was like ice. “I know our grandfathers made a promise on paper decades ago. But the woman I married is Mona. I respect her, I love her, and my family will always be her shield. If you can accept reality and move on, I’ll write you a check big enough to set you up for life. But if you try to cause trouble for my wife, I promise you will regret it.” With that, he wrapped his arm around Mona and escorted her back to their own mansion. My mother took my hand, her expression sympathetic. “Mona and Liam grew up together. You can’t force love, Harper. You just have to let it go.” “I’m not holding onto anything,” I replied quietly. “It’s the modern world. People marry whoever they want.” Who in their right mind would actually care about some verbal contract made before they were born? I had spent my entire life just trying to survive. I genuinely did not have the energy to care about high society drama. My mother looked relieved. She immediately started her campaign to compensate me. She dragged me to country club luncheons, introducing me to her wealthy friends. She took me through the luxury boutiques on Fifth Avenue. She casually swiped her card on a handbag that cost more than I used to make in six months of brutal labor. When she decided my complexion looked too dull, she flew me out to a private clinic in Switzerland for high end aesthetic treatments. She hired a private nutritionist to manage my meals, telling me that a woman’s face was her greatest asset and required elite maintenance. Everything at the Sinclair estate was flawless. It was so perfect that I couldn’t even complain. She was acting exactly like a good, wealthy mother should. And just like any traditional wealthy mother, she decided I was getting too old to be single. She took it upon herself to arrange a high status marriage for me. That night, she sat in my room, excitedly detailing the profile of the man she had picked out. I stared at the blinding crystal chandelier above us, and all I felt was an aching nostalgia for the dim, cheap lighting of my old life. “Mom,” I said softly. “I don’t want to get married. Please, just let me go back to my apartment.” 02 She flat out refused. Her face tightened with sudden anger. “Go back to what apartment? This is your home!” She looked at me, deeply offended. “Harper, your father, your brother, and I are doing everything we can to make this right. Have we treated you badly? Are we not giving you enough?” A lump formed in my throat, choking off my words. Of course they were giving me things. But when I politely asked a maid to boil me a simple bowl of noodles, she smiled to my face. Five minutes later, I heard her whispering in the kitchen. “Does she actually think she’s the lady of the house? Making me cook her noodles like a peasant. A high school dropout playing pretend in a mansion. It’s pathetic. She’s not worth a single hair on Mona’s head.” When my mother ordered my limited edition handbag, the sales associate asked if she wanted the rare crocodile skin version delivered as well. My mother replied without hesitation. “No. I’ve been on the waitlist for that crocodile bag for six months. Save that one specifically for Mona.” When the kitchen staff asked her about my daily supplements. “Ma’am, should we prepare the private reserve Swiss tonics for Miss Harper today?” Her answer was casual. “No, keep the Swiss reserves for Mona. She’s pregnant, her body needs the absolute best. Give Harper the domestic brand. The quality is a bit lower, but it’s fine for her.” Were they treating me badly? They were giving me everything a rich daughter was supposed to have. But they would always, without fail, give the very best to Mona. If I pointed any of this out, I would just sound greedy and ungrateful. I stayed silent for a long time. My mother sighed, looking at me like I was a massive disappointment. “Fine. Just don’t say things like that anymore. It breaks our hearts! The man I arranged for you is Liam’s younger brother. He’s brilliant, self made, and incredibly successful. Marrying him will secure your future forever.” 03 I met Liam’s younger brother, Declan. His business acumen was just as terrifying as his older brother’s. Naturally, he was viewed by everyone as the ultimate, flawless catch. In my past life, men like him existed in a completely different universe. But right now, this man was sitting across from someone he clearly viewed as trash. He despised me. It was written all over his face. His posture was rigid, his expression freezing cold. He didn’t bother with pleasantries. “I already have a woman I care about. The only reason I am agreeing to marry you is to permanently eliminate a headache for her.” I thought about the family dynamics for a second. “The woman you care about… is Mona, isn’t it?” His eyes narrowed dangerously, the temperature in the room dropping. That confirmed it. He leaned back in his chair. “I came here today to set the rules. I will marry you. I can guarantee I won’t sleep around or publicly embarrass you. I will give you the respect and status of being my wife in public. But do not ever expect me to fulfill any actual marital duties. And understand this clearly. My family has already overcompensated you. If you harbor even a shred of malice toward Mona, I will destroy you.” Every word out of his mouth dripped with absolute arrogance. A brilliant, wealthy CEO was willing to sacrifice his own marriage just to ensure his beloved sister in law lived a peaceful, untroubled life. Everyone in this elite circle bent over backward to protect Mona. They would happily throw their own lives away to guarantee her happiness. It was honestly hilarious. He thought he could just dictate his own marriage, and dictate mine along with it. But I already had someone in my heart. A year ago, he jumped into a freezing lake to pull three drowning children to safety. He managed to push them onto the ice, but his own strength gave out. He sank to the bottom of the lake. He was gone. A bitter ache squeezed my chest. I let out a dry, mocking laugh. “Declan, you really paint yourself as some kind of tragic hero. You think you’re making this massive, noble sacrifice. But what makes you think I have to accept whatever scraps you throw at me?” “What makes you think I even want you?” Declan froze, completely caught off guard. I stared him down. “I never planned on getting revenge on anyone. You’re willing to throw your life away for Mona, but I’m not playing your game. I reject your offer. If you really want to clear your conscience and settle debts, do me one favor. Look into your company records. You had an operations manager named Finn. See if he left any personal belongings in his desk before he died. If he did, send them to me.” 04 I made my stance explicitly clear. But Declan clearly didn’t believe me. He thought I was playing hard to get, which only deepened his disgust. I couldn’t care less. I went back to the Sinclair estate. The moment I walked through the doors, loud, cheerful laughter echoed from the living room. Mona had brought her fraternal twins over to visit her parents. The two beautifully dressed toddlers were giggling on my mother’s lap. My mother’s face was bright red with joy. When I walked in, Mona stiffened. But she quickly recovered, putting on a sweet smile and telling the kids to say hello to “Auntie Harper.” Mona gestured to a row of garment bags nearby. “Mom, those couture gowns you sent over are stunning. Your taste is flawless. I wore one to the gala last night, and everyone was asking about it. I know those designers have impossible waitlists.” My mother beamed with pride. “Of course, darling. The harder it is to get, the more my precious girl deserves it. Actually, your Aunt Victoria bought those in Paris. She sent them specifically as a welcome home gift for Harper. But to be honest, Harper doesn’t have the aura to pull them off yet. It would be a waste of good fabric. I knew they would look absolutely perfect on you.” Mona’s smile vanished instantly. The room fell into a dead silence. My mother suddenly realized what she had just confessed out loud. She turned to look at me, panic flashing in her eyes. Mona immediately started stammering apologies. She grabbed her kids and practically fled the house. When Preston came home later, he looked confused. “I just saw Mona pulling out of the driveway. Her eyes were completely red. Did someone say something to her?” He shot me a vicious glare. My mother awkwardly explained the situation with the dresses. Preston’s face relaxed, and he quickly jumped to defend my mother. “You made the right call, Mom. Mona is the only one who can do justice to those pieces. Giving them to Harper wouldn’t honor Aunt Victoria’s gift anyway.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Whatever. I’ll just have my assistant send over some regular seasonal clothes for Harper tonight.” Preston kept his word. A delivery arrived at my door that evening. But the timing was a disaster. At the exact same moment, a courier from the Thorne estate arrived. The courier handed me the pristine garment bags containing Aunt Victoria’s couture gowns. “Mrs. Thorne asked me to return these. She said she has already taken twenty eight years of your life, and she refuses to take a single thing more.” Before I could even reject the bags, the courier bowed and hurried away. I looked up and met Preston’s eyes. They were dark with absolute fury. That night, he completely lost his mind. He grabbed a pair of heavy fabric shears and violently shredded every single dress in the room. The ones he bought, and the ones Mona returned. He cut them all to ribbons. He pointed the scissors at me, his voice dripping with venom. “Do you have to fight her for every single thing?! A few pieces of fabric, and you have to make her feel guilty enough to return them? How can you be so incredibly selfish?!” I watched him throw his tantrum with dead eyes. A thirty year old man acting like a spoiled toddler. It was absurd. “I never asked for them,” I said flatly. “And I never accepted them.” “Stop lying!” he roared. “Mona is sensitive! If you hadn’t sat there looking pathetic and greedy, she never would have sent them back. You truly are just a classless, uneducated street rat!” He slammed the door so hard the walls shook. Downstairs, the maids quietly emerged to sweep up the shredded fabric. I stood alone in the center of my bedroom. I had survived twenty eight years of grinding poverty. I had swallowed hardships a million times worse than a rich boy’s temper tantrum. When my adoptive parents died, I spent countless nights crying in the dark because I couldn’t afford to finish high school. I didn’t have any tears left to cry. But looking down the long, empty hallway toward my parents’ master suite, a sharp needle of pain pierced my chest. Preston’s screaming had echoed through the entire house. They definitely heard him. But neither of them stepped out to stop him. Neither of them came to check on me. I looked out the window at the pale, cold moon. The night felt freezing. 05 The next morning, my mother felt a pang of guilt. She insisted on taking me to the luxury boutiques to buy me a whole new wardrobe. When we walked out of the store, chaos erupted. A sleek sports car suddenly lost control, blowing through a red light and hurtling straight toward a little boy crossing the street. Without a single thought, I dropped my bags, sprinted across the asphalt, tackled the kid, and rolled us both hard into the thick bushes of the median. The boy burst into terrified tears. Thankfully, he didn’t have a single scratch. My back, however, felt like it had been hit with a sledgehammer. I knew my spine was covered in massive, deep purple bruises. The panicked parents rushed over, thanking me profusely. I waved them off, wincing as I stood up. When I raised my head, I saw Declan stepping out of a black Bentley parked by the curb. His eyes were incredibly dark, flashing with genuine shock. He slowly walked over to me. His voice was entirely different from our first meeting. “That was incredibly brave.” I didn’t have the patience to deal with him. I turned to walk away, but his hand clamped down on my wrist. He stared at me for a long time. The sunlight hit his back, casting his face in shadow, but his eyes were burning with an intensity I hadn’t seen before. “You’re bleeding.” I looked down. My entire forearm was scraped raw and bleeding heavily. I violently ripped my arm out of his grip. “Mind your own business.” Despite my rejection, Declan showed up at the Sinclair estate that evening. He brought a highly sought after private orthopedic specialist to examine my injuries. My mother was absolutely thrilled. Her attitude toward me immediately softened. She sat on my bed and told me that Aunt Victoria was flying back from Europe next week. Aunt Victoria ran the family’s international branches, and the family was throwing a massive welcome banquet for her. Aunt Victoria was a terrifyingly successful businesswoman. She was actually more brilliant than my father. But my grandparents were old fashioned and believed the empire should be inherited by a male heir, so they left her with a much smaller percentage of shares. Thankfully, she and my father had a strong bond. For decades, the siblings had ruthlessly defended the company together. “Being a career woman is exhausting,” my mother sighed. “Mona used to want to join the board. She even went to London for her MBA. But after one year at the headquarters, she was so drained she quit. She decided focusing on her family and her marriage was better. And your brother… well, he’s the heir, so he has no choice. If he could, he’d probably prefer Mona’s lifestyle too.” I tuned out her voice. What was wrong with being a powerful woman like Aunt Victoria? Every time I saw female executives on the news, I felt a deep, burning admiration. But I also knew reality. Admiration didn’t magically grant you the skills or the power to sit in those boardrooms. I was a high school dropout. The realization hit me like a physical blow, leaving me drowning in shame. 06 The night of Aunt Victoria’s banquet, the entire New York elite showed up. When Aunt Victoria saw me, her sharp eyes immediately softened with tears. She had already been briefed on everything. She took both of my hands in hers and looked at me deeply. “You have survived so much pain.” Just hearing those words, my throat locked up. My eyes burned. She squeezed my hands. “You are incredibly strong.” Out in the main ballroom, Mona and Liam walked arm in arm. They were instantly surrounded by a crowd of admirers, looking like absolute royalty. My parents were busy showing off Mona’s twins to their wealthy friends. No one spared a single glance for me. It felt like I was genetically programmed to be shoved into the dark, invisible corners of every room. But Aunt Victoria saw me. She pulled me aside and talked to me for over an hour. Halfway through the night, my mother finally remembered I existed. She walked over, dragging the twins by the hands, and told me to play with them. She said we needed to bond as a family. I felt absolutely nothing for those kids. I awkwardly patted their heads, made an excuse, and walked out to the pool terrace to get some fresh air. After standing in the cool breeze for a while, I went inside to use the restroom. When I walked back out to the terrace, pure chaos had erupted. The little girl twin had fallen into the deep end of the pool. Fortunately, she was pulled out immediately. Right now, she was shivering and screaming in Mona’s arms. My mother was frantic. “What the hell happened?! Weren’t the maids watching them? How did she fall in?!” The adults’ panicked shouting terrified the little boy twin. He started sobbing uncontrollably. Then, he pointed a trembling finger right at me. “It was Auntie Harper! Auntie Harper pushed her into the water!” Before I could even open my mouth to defend myself, my mother’s hand cracked across my face.

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